Within a few days after this meeting, the newspapers announced to the
world, that the lady of Thomas Palmer, Esq. was safely delivered of a
son and heir; a very interesting and satisfactory paragraph, at least
to all those intimate connections who knew it before.

This event, highly important to Mrs. Jennings's happiness, produced a
temporary alteration in the disposal of her time, and influenced, in a
like degree, the engagements of her young friends; for as she wished to
be as much as possible with Charlotte, she went thither every morning as
soon as she was dressed, and did not return till late in the evening;
and the Miss Dashwoods, at the particular request of the Middletons,
spent the whole of every day in Conduit Street. For their own comfort
they would much rather have remained, at least all the morning, in Mrs.
Jennings's house; but it was not a thing to be urged against the wishes
of everybody. Their hours were therefore made over to Lady Middleton and
the two Miss Steeles, by whom their company, in fact was as little
valued, as it was professedly sought.

They had too much sense to be desirable companions to the former; and
by the latter they were considered with a jealous eye, as intruding on
THEIR ground, and sharing the kindness which they wanted to monopolize.
Though nothing could be more polite than Lady Middleton's behaviour to
Elinor and Marianne, she did not really like them at all.  Because they
neither flattered herself nor her children, she could not believe them
good-natured; and because they were fond of reading, she fancied them
satirical: perhaps without exactly knowing what it was to be satirical;
but THAT did not signify.  It was censure in common use, and easily
given.

Their presence was a restraint both on her and on Lucy.  It checked the
idleness of one, and the business of the other.  Lady Middleton was
ashamed of doing nothing before them, and the flattery which Lucy was
proud to think of and administer at other times, she feared they would
despise her for offering.  Miss Steele was the least discomposed of the
three, by their presence; and it was in their power to reconcile her to
it entirely.  Would either of them only have given her a full and
minute account of the whole affair between Marianne and Mr. Willoughby,
she would have thought herself amply rewarded for the sacrifice of the
best place by the fire after dinner, which their arrival occasioned.
But this conciliation was not granted; for though she often threw out
expressions of pity for her sister to Elinor, and more than once dropt
a reflection on the inconstancy of beaux before Marianne, no effect was
produced, but a look of indifference from the former, or of disgust in
the latter.  An effort even yet lighter might have made her their
friend.  Would they only have laughed at her about the Doctor!  But so
little were they, anymore than the others, inclined to oblige her, that
if Sir John dined from home, she might spend a whole day without
hearing any other raillery on the subject, than what she was kind
enough to bestow on herself.

All these jealousies and discontents, however, were so totally
unsuspected by Mrs. Jennings, that she thought it a delightful thing
for the girls to be together; and generally congratulated her young
friends every night, on having escaped the company of a stupid old
woman so long.  She joined them sometimes at Sir John's, sometimes at
her own house; but wherever it was, she always came in excellent
spirits, full of delight and importance, attributing Charlotte's well
doing to her own care, and ready to give so exact, so minute a detail
of her situation, as only Miss Steele had curiosity enough to desire.
One thing DID disturb her; and of that she made her daily complaint.
Mr. Palmer maintained the common, but unfatherly opinion among his sex,
of all infants being alike; and though she could plainly perceive, at
different times, the most striking resemblance between this baby and
every one of his relations on both sides, there was no convincing his
father of it; no persuading him to believe that it was not exactly like
every other baby of the same age; nor could he even be brought to
acknowledge the simple proposition of its being the finest child in the
world.

I come now to the relation of a misfortune, which about this time
befell Mrs. John Dashwood.  It so happened that while her two sisters
with Mrs. Jennings were first calling on her in Harley Street, another
of her acquaintance had dropt in--a circumstance in itself not
apparently likely to produce evil to her.  But while the imaginations
of other people will carry them away to form wrong judgments of our
conduct, and to decide on it by slight appearances, one's happiness
must in some measure be always at the mercy of chance.  In the present
instance, this last-arrived lady allowed her fancy to so far outrun
truth and probability, that on merely hearing the name of the Miss
Dashwoods, and understanding them to be Mr. Dashwood's sisters, she
immediately concluded them to be staying in Harley Street; and this
misconstruction produced within a day or two afterwards, cards of
invitation for them as well as for their brother and sister, to a small
musical party at her house.  The consequence of which was, that Mrs.
John Dashwood was obliged to submit not only to the exceedingly great
inconvenience of sending her carriage for the Miss Dashwoods, but, what
was still worse, must be subject to all the unpleasantness of appearing
to treat them with attention: and who could tell that they might not
expect to go out with her a second time?  The power of disappointing
them, it was true, must always be hers.  But that was not enough; for
when people are determined on a mode of conduct which they know to be
wrong, they feel injured by the expectation of any thing better from
them.

Marianne had now been brought by degrees, so much into the habit of
going out every day, that it was become a matter of indifference to
her, whether she went or not: and she prepared quietly and mechanically
for every evening's engagement, though without expecting the smallest
amusement from any, and very often without knowing, till the last
moment, where it was to take her.

To her dress and appearance she was grown so perfectly indifferent, as
not to bestow half the consideration on it, during the whole of her
toilet, which it received from Miss Steele in the first five minutes of
their being together, when it was finished.  Nothing escaped HER minute
observation and general curiosity; she saw every thing, and asked every
thing; was never easy till she knew the price of every part of
Marianne's dress; could have guessed the number of her gowns altogether
with better judgment than Marianne herself, and was not without hopes
of finding out before they parted, how much her washing cost per week,
and how much she had every year to spend upon herself.  The
impertinence of these kind of scrutinies, moreover, was generally
concluded with a compliment, which though meant as its douceur, was
considered by Marianne as the greatest impertinence of all; for after
undergoing an examination into the value and make of her gown, the
colour of her shoes, and the arrangement of her hair, she was almost
sure of being told that upon "her word she looked vastly smart, and she
dared to say she would make a great many conquests."

With such encouragement as this, was she dismissed on the present
occasion, to her brother's carriage; which they were ready to enter
five minutes after it stopped at the door, a punctuality not very
agreeable to their sister-in-law, who had preceded them to the house of
her acquaintance, and was there hoping for some delay on their part
that might inconvenience either herself or her coachman.

The events of this evening were not very remarkable.  The party, like
other musical parties, comprehended a great many people who had real
taste for the performance, and a great many more who had none at all;
and the performers themselves were, as usual, in their own estimation,
and that of their immediate friends, the first private performers in
England.

As Elinor was neither musical, nor affecting to be so, she made no
scruple of turning her eyes from the grand pianoforte, whenever it
suited her, and unrestrained even by the presence of a harp, and
violoncello, would fix them at pleasure on any other object in the
room.  In one of these excursive glances she perceived among a group of
young men, the very he, who had given them a lecture on toothpick-cases
at Gray's.  She perceived him soon afterwards looking at herself, and
speaking familiarly to her brother; and had just determined to find out
his name from the latter, when they both came towards her, and Mr.
Dashwood introduced him to her as Mr. Robert Ferrars.

He addressed her with easy civility, and twisted his head into a bow
which assured her as plainly as words could have done, that he was
exactly the coxcomb she had heard him described to be by Lucy.  Happy
had it been for her, if her regard for Edward had depended less on his
own merit, than on the merit of his nearest relations!  For then his
brother's bow must have given the finishing stroke to what the
ill-humour of his mother and sister would have begun.  But while she
wondered at the difference of the two young men, she did not find that
the emptiness of conceit of the one, put her out of all charity with
the modesty and worth of the other.  Why they WERE different, Robert
exclaimed to her himself in the course of a quarter of an hour's
conversation; for, talking of his brother, and lamenting the extreme
GAUCHERIE which he really believed kept him from mixing in proper
society, he candidly and generously attributed it much less to any
natural deficiency, than to the misfortune of a private education;
while he himself, though probably without any particular, any material
superiority by nature, merely from the advantage of a public school,
was as well fitted to mix in the world as any other man.

"Upon my soul," he added, "I believe it is nothing more; and so I often
tell my mother, when she is grieving about it.  'My dear Madam,' I
always say to her, 'you must make yourself easy.  The evil is now
irremediable, and it has been entirely your own doing.  Why would you
be persuaded by my uncle, Sir Robert, against your own judgment, to
place Edward under private tuition, at the most critical time of his
life?  If you had only sent him to Westminster as well as myself,
instead of sending him to Mr. Pratt's, all this would have been
prevented.' This is the way in which I always consider the matter, and
my mother is perfectly convinced of her error."

Elinor would not oppose his opinion, because, whatever might be her
general estimation of the advantage of a public school, she could not
think of Edward's abode in Mr. Pratt's family, with any satisfaction.

"You reside in Devonshire, I think,"--was his next observation, "in a
cottage near Dawlish."

Elinor set him right as to its situation; and it seemed rather
surprising to him that anybody could live in Devonshire, without living
near Dawlish.  He bestowed his hearty approbation however on their
species of house.

"For my own part," said he, "I am excessively fond of a cottage; there
is always so much comfort, so much elegance about them.  And I protest,
if I had any money to spare, I should buy a little land and build one
myself, within a short distance of London, where I might drive myself
down at any time, and collect a few friends about me, and be happy.  I
advise every body who is going to build, to build a cottage.  My friend
Lord Courtland came to me the other day on purpose to ask my advice,
and laid before me three different plans of Bonomi's.  I was to decide
on the best of them.  'My dear Courtland,' said I, immediately throwing
them all into the fire, 'do not adopt either of them, but by all means
build a cottage.' And that I fancy, will be the end of it.

"Some people imagine that there can be no accommodations, no space in a
cottage; but this is all a mistake.  I was last month at my friend
Elliott's, near Dartford.  Lady Elliott wished to give a dance.  'But
how can it be done?' said she; 'my dear Ferrars, do tell me how it is
to be managed.  There is not a room in this cottage that will hold ten
couple, and where can the supper be?' I immediately saw that there
could be no difficulty in it, so I said, 'My dear Lady Elliott, do not
be uneasy.  The dining parlour will admit eighteen couple with ease;
card-tables may be placed in the drawing-room; the library may be open
for tea and other refreshments; and let the supper be set out in the
saloon.'  Lady Elliott was delighted with the thought.  We measured the
dining-room, and found it would hold exactly eighteen couple, and the
affair was arranged precisely after my plan.  So that, in fact, you
see, if people do but know how to set about it, every comfort may be as
well enjoyed in a cottage as in the most spacious dwelling."

Elinor agreed to it all, for she did not think he deserved the
compliment of rational opposition.

As John Dashwood had no more pleasure in music than his eldest sister,
his mind was equally at liberty to fix on any thing else; and a thought
struck him during the evening, which he communicated to his wife, for
her approbation, when they got home.  The consideration of Mrs.
Dennison's mistake, in supposing his sisters their guests, had
suggested the propriety of their being really invited to become such,
while Mrs. Jennings's engagements kept her from home.  The expense would
be nothing, the inconvenience not more; and it was altogether an
attention which the delicacy of his conscience pointed out to be
requisite to its complete enfranchisement from his promise to his
father.  Fanny was startled at the proposal.

"I do not see how it can be done," said she, "without affronting Lady
Middleton, for they spend every day with her; otherwise I should be
exceedingly glad to do it.  You know I am always ready to pay them any
attention in my power, as my taking them out this evening shews.  But
they are Lady Middleton's visitors.  How can I ask them away from her?"

Her husband, but with great humility, did not see the force of her
objection.  "They had already spent a week in this manner in Conduit
Street, and Lady Middleton could not be displeased at their giving the
same number of days to such near relations."

Fanny paused a moment, and then, with fresh vigor, said,

"My love I would ask them with all my heart, if it was in my power.
But I had just settled within myself to ask the Miss Steeles to spend a
few days with us.  They are very well behaved, good kind of girls; and
I think the attention is due to them, as their uncle did so very well
by Edward.  We can ask your sisters some other year, you know; but the
Miss Steeles may not be in town any more.  I am sure you will like
them; indeed, you DO like them, you know, very much already, and so
does my mother; and they are such favourites with Harry!"

Mr. Dashwood was convinced.  He saw the necessity of inviting the Miss
Steeles immediately, and his conscience was pacified by the resolution
of inviting his sisters another year; at the same time, however, slyly
suspecting that another year would make the invitation needless, by
bringing Elinor to town as Colonel Brandon's wife, and Marianne as
THEIR visitor.

Fanny, rejoicing in her escape, and proud of the ready wit that had
procured it, wrote the next morning to Lucy, to request her company and
her sister's, for some days, in Harley Street, as soon as Lady
Middleton could spare them.  This was enough to make Lucy really and
reasonably happy.  Mrs. Dashwood seemed actually working for her,
herself; cherishing all her hopes, and promoting all her views!  Such
an opportunity of being with Edward and his family was, above all
things, the most material to her interest, and such an invitation the
most gratifying to her feelings!  It was an advantage that could not be
too gratefully acknowledged, nor too speedily made use of; and the
visit to Lady Middleton, which had not before had any precise limits,
was instantly discovered to have been always meant to end in two days'
time.

When the note was shown to Elinor, as it was within ten minutes after
its arrival, it gave her, for the first time, some share in the
expectations of Lucy; for such a mark of uncommon kindness, vouchsafed
on so short an acquaintance, seemed to declare that the good-will
towards her arose from something more than merely malice against
herself; and might be brought, by time and address, to do every thing
that Lucy wished.  Her flattery had already subdued the pride of Lady
Middleton, and made an entry into the close heart of Mrs. John
Dashwood; and these were effects that laid open the probability of
greater.

The Miss Steeles removed to Harley Street, and all that reached Elinor
of their influence there, strengthened her expectation of the event.
Sir John, who called on them more than once, brought home such accounts
of the favour they were in, as must be universally striking.  Mrs.
Dashwood had never been so much pleased with any young women in her
life, as she was with them; had given each of them a needle book made
by some emigrant; called Lucy by her Christian name; and did not know
whether she should ever be able to part with them.

[At this point in the first and second editions, Volume II ended.]

Mrs. Palmer, Mrs. Jennings' daughter, has a son; Mrs. Jennings is with her daughter most days, which means Elinor and Marianne are obliged to spend their days at the Middletons'. Lady Middleton does not care for them because they do not flatter her or the children, and the Miss Steeles are too jealous of the Dashwood girls to like them. The Dashwood girls are invited to a party, although the invitation is mistakenly sent to their brother's house; Marianne, who is much recovered, goes, although she gets little pleasure from any company in town. Robert Ferrars, Edward's brother, is there; he is arrogant and a fool, like the whole of his family, excepting poor, modest Edward. John wishes to invite the Miss Dashwoods to stay with them; but, as usual, Fanny talks him out of it in favor of inviting the Miss Steeles. Elinor worries that Lucy might be able to gain the favor of the Ferrars family, and marry Edward after all.

How dear, sweet Edward could have sprung from such a miserable, poor-spirited family is a complete mystery; the juxtaposition of Edward with his relations makes him seem even more of a good-hearted, rare sort of man. Robert is as condescending toward her as John is, though he makes far more of an effort to speak to the Dashwood girls than his sister Fanny ever attempts. Austen serves up more of her understated wit to mock Robert; her comment Elinor deems him unworthy of "the compliment of rational opposition" perfectly displays how Austen infuses proper diction with irony, to achieve a unique brand of social criticism

A few days later, a big announcement shows up in the papers - Mrs. Palmer has finally delivered her baby! Mrs. Jennings is immensely pleased, and is busy with her new grandchild. This leaves the Dashwoods on their own; they'd rather stay home, but everyone insists that they go hang out with Lady Middleton, Lucy, and the elder Miss Steele all day, every day. Lady Middleton, it turns out, doesn't actually like the Dashwood girls, and even Miss Steele, who's actually quite easy to please, isn't such a fan - after all, they never want to gossip about guys with her. Mrs. Jennings, however, thinks it's nice for all of her young friends to get to spend time together, and she thinks they're all having a great time. She herself is really enjoying her time with her daughter Charlotte Palmer and the new grandchild, despite the fact that Mr. Palmer insists that all babies look the same to him, even his own. Around this time, another unhappy social situation arises: a friend of Fanny's invites Elinor and Marianne to a musical party, thinking that it'll be nice for Fanny. Little does this well-meaning friend know that Fanny doesn't like her sisters-in-law, and doesn't want them involved in her social circle. Marianne's used to going out during the day and evening by now, and she gets ready for the party with the willing help of Miss Steele. She and Elinor are picked up by Fanny and John's carriage, and the Dashwoods all go to the party together. Elinor isn't that interested in the party, since she's not musical. She passes the time by looking at her fellow partygoers - which happen to include the unpleasant young man from the jeweler's, who had stared so rudely at Elinor and Marianne as he ordered his idiotic toothpick case. The offensive young man comes over with John, and is introduced as the mysterious third Ferrars sibling, Robert. Elinor observes mentally that he's just as arrogant as Lucy made him out to be. Robert takes it upon himself to explain to Elinor why he is so much better than his brother, Edward . He then goes on to ask her about her family's cottage in Devonshire, exclaiming that he just loves cottages. He turns out to be a pompous name dropper. John, observing his sisters, meekly asks Fanny if they might have Elinor and Marianne come and stay with them, since Mrs. Jennings is so busy. As usual, Fanny shoots him down immediately, claiming that they can't take the girls away from Lady Middleton. John responds that this is hardly a good reason, and in desperation, Fanny says that she's decided that she'd like to invite the Miss Steeles to stay instead. John is convinced, and gives up his case. He hopes that next year Elinor will be married to Colonel Brandon, and that Marianne will be their guest. The next morning, Fanny invites Lucy and Anne Steele to stay with them at their home in Harley Street for a few days. Lucy is perfectly happy, and is certain that this bodes well for her marriage to Edward. She shows Fanny's note to Elinor , who begins to think that this might actually work. Fanny becomes devoted to her new friends, and doesn't know what she'll do without them when they leave.


Mrs. Palmer was so well at the end of a fortnight, that her mother felt
it no longer necessary to give up the whole of her time to her; and,
contenting herself with visiting her once or twice a day, returned from
that period to her own home, and her own habits, in which she found the
Miss Dashwoods very ready to resume their former share.

About the third or fourth morning after their being thus resettled in
Berkeley Street, Mrs. Jennings, on returning from her ordinary visit to
Mrs. Palmer, entered the drawing-room, where Elinor was sitting by
herself, with an air of such hurrying importance as prepared her to
hear something wonderful; and giving her time only to form that idea,
began directly to justify it, by saying,

"Lord! my dear Miss Dashwood! have you heard the news?"

"No, ma'am.  What is it?"

"Something so strange!  But you shall hear it all.-- When I got to Mr.
Palmer's, I found Charlotte quite in a fuss about the child.  She was
sure it was very ill--it cried, and fretted, and was all over pimples.
So I looked at it directly, and, 'Lord! my dear,' says I, 'it is
nothing in the world, but the red gum--' and nurse said just the same.
But Charlotte, she would not be satisfied, so Mr. Donavan was sent for;
and luckily he happened to just come in from Harley Street, so he
stepped over directly, and as soon as ever Mama, he said
just as we did, that it was nothing in the world but the red gum, and
then Charlotte was easy.  And so, just as he was going away again, it
came into my head, I am sure I do not know how I happened to think of
it, but it came into my head to ask him if there was any news.  So upon
that, he smirked, and simpered, and looked grave, and seemed to know
something or other, and at last he said in a whisper, 'For fear any
unpleasant report should reach the young ladies under your care as to
their sister's indisposition, I think it advisable to say, that I
believe there is no great reason for alarm; I hope Mrs. Dashwood will
do very well.'"

"What! is Fanny ill?"

"That is exactly what I said, my dear.  'Lord!' says I, 'is Mrs.
Dashwood ill?' So then it all came out; and the long and the short of
the matter, by all I can learn, seems to be this.  Mr. Edward Ferrars,
the very young man I used to joke with you about (but however, as it
turns out, I am monstrous glad there was never any thing in it), Mr.
Edward Ferrars, it seems, has been engaged above this twelvemonth to my
cousin Lucy!--There's for you, my dear!--And not a creature knowing a
syllable of the matter, except Nancy!--Could you have believed such a
thing possible?-- There is no great wonder in their liking one another;
but that matters should be brought so forward between them, and nobody
suspect it!--THAT is strange!--I never happened to see them together,
or I am sure I should have found it out directly.  Well, and so this
was kept a great secret, for fear of Mrs. Ferrars, and neither she nor
your brother or sister suspected a word of the matter;--till this very
morning, poor Nancy, who, you know, is a well-meaning creature, but no
conjurer, popt it all out.  'Lord!' thinks she to herself, 'they are
all so fond of Lucy, to be sure they will make no difficulty about it;'
and so, away she went to your sister, who was sitting all alone at her
carpet-work, little suspecting what was to come--for she had just been
saying to your brother, only five minutes before, that she thought to
make a match between Edward and some Lord's daughter or other, I forget
who.  So you may think what a blow it was to all her vanity and pride.
She fell into violent hysterics immediately, with such screams as
reached your brother's ears, as he was sitting in his own dressing-room
down stairs, thinking about writing a letter to his steward in the
country.  So up he flew directly, and a terrible scene took place, for
Lucy was come to them by that time, little dreaming what was going on.
Poor soul!  I pity HER.  And I must say, I think she was used very
hardly; for your sister scolded like any fury, and soon drove her into
a fainting fit.  Nancy, she fell upon her knees, and cried bitterly;
and your brother, he walked about the room, and said he did not know
what to do.  Mrs. Dashwood declared they should not stay a minute
longer in the house, and your brother was forced to go down upon HIS
knees too, to persuade her to let them stay till they had packed up
their clothes.  THEN she fell into hysterics again, and he was so
frightened that he would send for Mr. Donavan, and Mr. Donavan found
the house in all this uproar.  The carriage was at the door ready to
take my poor cousins away, and they were just stepping in as he came
off; poor Lucy in such a condition, he says, she could hardly walk; and
Nancy, she was almost as bad.  I declare, I have no patience with your
sister; and I hope, with all my heart, it will be a match in spite of
her.  Lord! what a taking poor Mr. Edward will be in when he hears of
it!  To have his love used so scornfully! for they say he is monstrous
fond of her, as well he may.  I should not wonder, if he was to be in
the greatest passion!--and Mr. Donavan thinks just the same.  He and I
had a great deal of talk about it; and the best of all is, that he is
gone back again to Harley Street, that he may be within call when Mrs.
Ferrars is told of it, for she was sent for as soon as ever my cousins
left the house, for your sister was sure SHE would be in hysterics too;
and so she may, for what I care.  I have no pity for either of them.  I
have no notion of people's making such a to-do about money and
greatness.  There is no reason on earth why Mr. Edward and Lucy should
not marry; for I am sure Mrs. Ferrars may afford to do very well by her
son, and though Lucy has next to nothing herself, she knows better than
any body how to make the most of every thing; I dare say, if Mrs.
Ferrars would only allow him five hundred a-year, she would make as
good an appearance with it as any body else would with eight.  Lord!
how snug they might live in such another cottage as yours--or a little
bigger--with two maids, and two men; and I believe I could help them to
a housemaid, for my Betty has a sister out of place, that would fit
them exactly."

Here Mrs. Jennings ceased, and as Elinor had had time enough to collect
her thoughts, she was able to give such an answer, and make such
observations, as the subject might naturally be supposed to produce.
Happy to find that she was not suspected of any extraordinary interest
in it; that Mrs. Jennings (as she had of late often hoped might be the
case) had ceased to imagine her at all attached to Edward; and happy
above all the rest, in the absence of Marianne, she felt very well able
to speak of the affair without embarrassment, and to give her judgment,
as she believed, with impartiality on the conduct of every one
concerned in it.

She could hardly determine what her own expectation of its event really
was; though she earnestly tried to drive away the notion of its being
possible to end otherwise at last, than in the marriage of Edward and
Lucy.  What Mrs. Ferrars would say and do, though there could not be a
doubt of its nature, she was anxious to hear; and still more anxious to
know how Edward would conduct himself.  For HIM she felt much
compassion;--for Lucy very little--and it cost her some pains to
procure that little;--for the rest of the party none at all.

As Mrs. Jennings could talk on no other subject, Elinor soon saw the
necessity of preparing Marianne for its discussion.  No time was to be
lost in undeceiving her, in making her acquainted with the real truth,
and in endeavouring to bring her to hear it talked of by others,
without betraying that she felt any uneasiness for her sister, or any
resentment against Edward.

Elinor's office was a painful one.--She was going to remove what she
really believed to be her sister's chief consolation,--to give such
particulars of Edward as she feared would ruin him for ever in her good
opinion,-and to make Marianne, by a resemblance in their situations,
which to HER fancy would seem strong, feel all her own disappointment
over again.  But unwelcome as such a task must be, it was necessary to
be done, and Elinor therefore hastened to perform it.

She was very far from wishing to dwell on her own feelings, or to
represent herself as suffering much, any otherwise than as the
self-command she had practised since her first knowledge of Edward's
engagement, might suggest a hint of what was practicable to Marianne.
Her narration was clear and simple; and though it could not be given
without emotion, it was not accompanied by violent agitation, nor
impetuous grief.--THAT belonged rather to the hearer, for Marianne
listened with horror, and cried excessively.  Elinor was to be the
comforter of others in her own distresses, no less than in theirs; and
all the comfort that could be given by assurances of her own composure
of mind, and a very earnest vindication of Edward from every charge but
of imprudence, was readily offered.

But Marianne for some time would give credit to neither.  Edward seemed
a second Willoughby; and acknowledging as Elinor did, that she HAD
loved him most sincerely, could she feel less than herself!  As for
Lucy Steele, she considered her so totally unamiable, so absolutely
incapable of attaching a sensible man, that she could not be persuaded
at first to believe, and afterwards to pardon, any former affection of
Edward for her.  She would not even admit it to have been natural; and
Elinor left her to be convinced that it was so, by that which only
could convince her, a better knowledge of mankind.

Her first communication had reached no farther than to state the fact
of the engagement, and the length of time it had existed.--Marianne's
feelings had then broken in, and put an end to all regularity of
detail; and for some time all that could be done was to soothe her
distress, lessen her alarms, and combat her resentment.  The first
question on her side, which led to farther particulars, was,--

"How long has this been known to you, Elinor? has he written to you?"

"I have known it these four months.  When Lucy first came to Barton
Park last November, she told me in confidence of her engagement."

At these words, Marianne's eyes expressed the astonishment which her
lips could not utter.  After a pause of wonder, she exclaimed--

"Four months!--Have you known of this four months?"

Elinor confirmed it.

"What!--while attending me in all my misery, has this been on your
heart?--And I have reproached you for being happy!"--

"It was not fit that you should then know how much I was the reverse!"

"Four months!"--cried Marianne again.--"So calm!--so cheerful!--how
have you been supported?"--

"By feeling that I was doing my duty.--My promise to Lucy, obliged me
to be secret.  I owed it to her, therefore, to avoid giving any hint of
the truth; and I owed it to my family and friends, not to create in
them a solicitude about me, which it could not be in my power to
satisfy."

Marianne seemed much struck.

"I have very often wished to undeceive yourself and my mother," added
Elinor; "and once or twice I have attempted it;--but without betraying
my trust, I never could have convinced you."

"Four months!--and yet you loved him!"--

"Yes. But I did not love only him;--and while the comfort of others was
dear to me, I was glad to spare them from knowing how much I felt.
Now, I can think and speak of it with little emotion.  I would not have
you suffer on my account; for I assure you I no longer suffer
materially myself.  I have many things to support me.  I am not
conscious of having provoked the disappointment by any imprudence of my
own, I have borne it as much as possible without spreading it farther.
I acquit Edward of essential misconduct.  I wish him very happy; and I
am so sure of his always doing his duty, that though now he may harbour
some regret, in the end he must become so.  Lucy does not want sense,
and that is the foundation on which every thing good may be built.--And
after all, Marianne, after all that is bewitching in the idea of a
single and constant attachment, and all that can be said of one's
happiness depending entirely on any particular person, it is not
meant--it is not fit--it is not possible that it should be so.-- Edward
will marry Lucy; he will marry a woman superior in person and
understanding to half her sex; and time and habit will teach him to
forget that he ever thought another superior to HER."--

"If such is your way of thinking," said Marianne, "if the loss of what
is most valued is so easily to be made up by something else, your
resolution, your self-command, are, perhaps, a little less to be
wondered at.--They are brought more within my comprehension."

"I understand you.--You do not suppose that I have ever felt much.--For
four months, Marianne, I have had all this hanging on my mind, without
being at liberty to speak of it to a single creature; knowing that it
would make you and my mother most unhappy whenever it were explained to
you, yet unable to prepare you for it in the least.-- It was told
me,--it was in a manner forced on me by the very person herself, whose
prior engagement ruined all my prospects; and told me, as I thought,
with triumph.-- This person's suspicions, therefore, I have had to
oppose, by endeavouring to appear indifferent where I have been most
deeply interested;--and it has not been only once;--I have had her
hopes and exultation to listen to again and again.-- I have known
myself to be divided from Edward for ever, without hearing one
circumstance that could make me less desire the connection.--Nothing
has proved him unworthy; nor has anything declared him indifferent to
me.-- I have had to contend against the unkindness of his sister, and
the insolence of his mother; and have suffered the punishment of an
attachment, without enjoying its advantages.-- And all this has been
going on at a time, when, as you know too well, it has not been my only
unhappiness.-- If you can think me capable of ever feeling--surely you
may suppose that I have suffered NOW.  The composure of mind with which
I have brought myself at present to consider the matter, the
consolation that I have been willing to admit, have been the effect of
constant and painful exertion;--they did not spring up of
themselves;--they did not occur to relieve my spirits at first.-- No,
Marianne.--THEN, if I had not been bound to silence, perhaps nothing
could have kept me entirely--not even what I owed to my dearest
friends--from openly shewing that I was VERY unhappy."--

Marianne was quite subdued.--

"Oh! Elinor," she cried, "you have made me hate myself for ever.--How
barbarous have I been to you!--you, who have been my only comfort, who
have borne with me in all my misery, who have seemed to be only
suffering for me!--Is this my gratitude?--Is this the only return I can
make you?--Because your merit cries out upon myself, I have been trying
to do it away."

The tenderest caresses followed this confession.  In such a frame of
mind as she was now in, Elinor had no difficulty in obtaining from her
whatever promise she required; and at her request, Marianne engaged
never to speak of the affair to any one with the least appearance of
bitterness;--to meet Lucy without betraying the smallest increase of
dislike to her;--and even to see Edward himself, if chance should bring
them together, without any diminution of her usual cordiality.-- These
were great concessions;--but where Marianne felt that she had injured,
no reparation could be too much for her to make.

She performed her promise of being discreet, to admiration.--She
attended to all that Mrs. Jennings had to say upon the subject, with an
unchanging complexion, dissented from her in nothing, and was heard
three times to say, "Yes, ma'am."--She listened to her praise of Lucy
with only moving from one chair to another, and when Mrs. Jennings
talked of Edward's affection, it cost her only a spasm in her
throat.--Such advances towards heroism in her sister, made Elinor feel
equal to any thing herself.

The next morning brought a farther trial of it, in a visit from their
brother, who came with a most serious aspect to talk over the dreadful
affair, and bring them news of his wife.

"You have heard, I suppose," said he with great solemnity, as soon as
he was seated, "of the very shocking discovery that took place under
our roof yesterday."

They all looked their assent; it seemed too awful a moment for speech.

"Your sister," he continued, "has suffered dreadfully.  Mrs. Ferrars
too--in short it has been a scene of such complicated distress--but I
will hope that the storm may be weathered without our being any of us
quite overcome.  Poor Fanny! she was in hysterics all yesterday.  But I
would not alarm you too much.  Donavan says there is nothing materially
to be apprehended; her constitution is a good one, and her resolution
equal to any thing.  She has borne it all, with the fortitude of an
angel!  She says she never shall think well of anybody again; and one
cannot wonder at it, after being so deceived!--meeting with such
ingratitude, where so much kindness had been shewn, so much confidence
had been placed!  It was quite out of the benevolence of her heart,
that she had asked these young women to her house; merely because she
thought they deserved some attention, were harmless, well-behaved
girls, and would be pleasant companions; for otherwise we both wished
very much to have invited you and Marianne to be with us, while your
kind friend there, was attending her daughter.  And now to be so
rewarded!  'I wish, with all my heart,' says poor Fanny in her
affectionate way, 'that we had asked your sisters instead of them.'"

Here he stopped to be thanked; which being done, he went on.

"What poor Mrs. Ferrars suffered, when first Fanny broke it to her, is
not to be described.  While she with the truest affection had been
planning a most eligible connection for him, was it to be supposed that
he could be all the time secretly engaged to another person!--such a
suspicion could never have entered her head!  If she suspected ANY
prepossession elsewhere, it could not be in THAT quarter.  'THERE, to
be sure,' said she, 'I might have thought myself safe.' She was quite
in an agony.  We consulted together, however, as to what should be
done, and at last she determined to send for Edward.  He came.  But I
am sorry to relate what ensued.  All that Mrs. Ferrars could say to
make him put an end to the engagement, assisted too as you may well
suppose by my arguments, and Fanny's entreaties, was of no avail.
Duty, affection, every thing was disregarded.  I never thought Edward
so stubborn, so unfeeling before.  His mother explained to him her
liberal designs, in case of his marrying Miss Morton; told him she
would settle on him the Norfolk estate, which, clear of land-tax,
brings in a good thousand a-year; offered even, when matters grew
desperate, to make it twelve hundred; and in opposition to this, if he
still persisted in this low connection, represented to him the certain
penury that must attend the match.  His own two thousand pounds she
protested should be his all; she would never see him again; and so far
would she be from affording him the smallest assistance, that if he
were to enter into any profession with a view of better support, she
would do all in her power to prevent him advancing in it."

Here Marianne, in an ecstasy of indignation, clapped her hands
together, and cried, "Gracious God!  can this be possible!"

"Well may you wonder, Marianne," replied her brother, "at the obstinacy
which could resist such arguments as these.  Your exclamation is very
natural."

Marianne was going to retort, but she remembered her promises, and
forbore.

"All this, however," he continued, "was urged in vain.  Edward said
very little; but what he did say, was in the most determined manner.
Nothing should prevail on him to give up his engagement.  He would
stand to it, cost him what it might."

"Then," cried Mrs. Jennings with blunt sincerity, no longer able to be
silent, "he has acted like an honest man! I beg your pardon, Mr.
Dashwood, but if he had done otherwise, I should have thought him a
rascal.  I have some little concern in the business, as well as
yourself, for Lucy Steele is my cousin, and I believe there is not a
better kind of girl in the world, nor one who more deserves a good
husband."

John Dashwood was greatly astonished; but his nature was calm, not open
to provocation, and he never wished to offend anybody, especially
anybody of good fortune.  He therefore replied, without any resentment,

"I would by no means speak disrespectfully of any relation of yours,
madam.  Miss Lucy Steele is, I dare say, a very deserving young woman,
but in the present case you know, the connection must be impossible.
And to have entered into a secret engagement with a young man under her
uncle's care, the son of a woman especially of such very large fortune
as Mrs. Ferrars, is perhaps, altogether a little extraordinary. In
short, I do not mean to reflect upon the behaviour of any person whom
you have a regard for, Mrs. Jennings.  We all wish her extremely happy;
and Mrs. Ferrars's conduct throughout the whole, has been such as every
conscientious, good mother, in like circumstances, would adopt.  It has
been dignified and liberal.  Edward has drawn his own lot, and I fear
it will be a bad one."

Marianne sighed out her similar apprehension; and Elinor's heart wrung
for the feelings of Edward, while braving his mother's threats, for a
woman who could not reward him.

"Well, sir," said Mrs. Jennings, "and how did it end?"

"I am sorry to say, ma'am, in a most unhappy rupture:-- Edward is
dismissed for ever from his mother's notice.  He left her house
yesterday, but where he is gone, or whether he is still in town, I do
not know; for WE of course can make no inquiry."

"Poor young man!--and what is to become of him?"

"What, indeed, ma'am!  It is a melancholy consideration.  Born to the
prospect of such affluence!  I cannot conceive a situation more
deplorable.  The interest of two thousand pounds--how can a man live on
it?--and when to that is added the recollection, that he might, but for
his own folly, within three months have been in the receipt of two
thousand, five hundred a-year (for Miss Morton has thirty thousand
pounds,) I cannot picture to myself a more wretched condition.  We must
all feel for him; and the more so, because it is totally out of our
power to assist him."

"Poor young man!" cried Mrs. Jennings, "I am sure he should be very
welcome to bed and board at my house; and so I would tell him if I
could see him.  It is not fit that he should be living about at his own
charge now, at lodgings and taverns."

Elinor's heart thanked her for such kindness towards Edward, though she
could not forbear smiling at the form of it.

"If he would only have done as well by himself," said John Dashwood,
"as all his friends were disposed to do by him, he might now have been
in his proper situation, and would have wanted for nothing.  But as it
is, it must be out of anybody's power to assist him.  And there is one
thing more preparing against him, which must be worse than all--his
mother has determined, with a very natural kind of spirit, to settle
THAT estate upon Robert immediately, which might have been Edward's, on
proper conditions.  I left her this morning with her lawyer, talking
over the business."

"Well!" said Mrs. Jennings, "that is HER revenge.  Everybody has a way
of their own.  But I don't think mine would be, to make one son
independent, because another had plagued me."

Marianne got up and walked about the room.

"Can anything be more galling to the spirit of a man," continued John,
"than to see his younger brother in possession of an estate which might
have been his own?  Poor Edward!  I feel for him sincerely."

A few minutes more spent in the same kind of effusion, concluded his
visit; and with repeated assurances to his sisters that he really
believed there was no material danger in Fanny's indisposition, and
that they need not therefore be very uneasy about it, he went away;
leaving the three ladies unanimous in their sentiments on the present
occasion, as far at least as it regarded Mrs. Ferrars's conduct, the
Dashwoods', and Edward's.

Marianne's indignation burst forth as soon as he quitted the room; and
as her vehemence made reserve impossible in Elinor, and unnecessary in
Mrs. Jennings, they all joined in a very spirited critique upon the
party.

Mrs. Jennings returns home one day, to inform Elinor that Miss Steele told Fanny of Lucy and Edward's engagement. The Ferrars family are in an uproar, and Fanny in particular, who went into hysterics at the news, and forced the two girls from the house. Elinor is concerned about how this whole uproar will effect Edward, and tells her sister of it; Marianne is much grieved to hear of it, and cannot believe that Elinor has also kept her knowledge of it a secret for so long. John Dashwood visits, and tells them that Edward is to be disinherited if he chooses to marry Lucy; John laments that Edward has given up an estate and his fortune for this match, although Elinor and Marianne are even more grieved that Edward will have to marry a woman he no longer loves.

Fanny and her mother's goodwill toward the Miss Steeles proves as short-lived as it was ill-founded; this incident displays Fanny's true ugliness, and shows her hypocrisy in accepting someone as a friend and guest whom she would despise as a sister-in-law. Indeed, hypocrisy seems to be a theme of this entire section of the novel, as there is a great divide between what people say and what they think, and since friendships can be so quickly cast aside as Fanny demonstrates. Elinor, however, is a paragon of the opposite of hypocrisy, which is civility; although she does not speak her mind, she does not profess to feelings which are not hers, nor does she flatter as indiscriminately as the Miss Steeles. Marianne's reaction upon hearing of Edward's engagement once again shows progress for her; she forgets about her own troubles and wishes to console Elinor, and show her thankfulness at being taken care of by Elinor during the past weeks. Marianne again loses part of her selfishness, as she sees that her sister has suffered a disappointment equal to her own. Marianne also makes progress toward being as discreet as her sister, in concealing her feelings about the whole affair from anyone besides Elinor. In this situation, Marianne seems to express all the grief that Elinor has concealed; Marianne seems like a kind of surrogate for her sister, in allowing herself to show emotion while Elinor tries to suppress all her feelings

Charlotte Palmer is rapidly on the mend after the arrival of the baby, so after two weeks of attending her, Mrs. Jennings has a little more free time on her hands. She comes back home to Berkeley Street, and resumes her old habits. One day, Mrs. Jennings busts in on Elinor with a number of news items to tell. First of all, the baby is sick with some non-dangerous ailment called "red-gum" ; the doctor stopped by to check it out, and as he left, Mrs. Jennings asked him if there was any news. The gossip-mongering doctor smirked and said that Mrs. Dashwood isn't seriously ill, and nobody should be alarmed. Elinor, of course, is alarmed - is Fanny sick? Apparently, Fanny's illness is emotional, rather than physical. It turns out that Lucy and Edward's secret engagement has emerged into the light of day. Miss Steele is to blame - she thought innocently that since Fanny and Mrs. Ferrars liked Lucy so much, they wouldn't mind the marriage, so she told Fanny all about it. Wow, was Miss Steele wrong. Fanny totally freaked out, and made a huge scene. The Steeles were kicked out of the Dashwoods' house, and now everything's in a state of chaos. Mrs. Jennings thinks there's nothing wrong with Edward marrying Lucy, and thinks that they can manage, even if Mrs. Ferrars diminishes her financial support. Elinor tries to gather her thoughts - but it's not use. There's too much to process. It's now Elinor's task to spring all of this on Marianne without upsetting her too much. She tries not to dwell on her own feelings, and figure out to make Marianne deal with it in a calm manner. Elinor relates the convoluted tale to her sister, who is incredibly upset by the whole thing. She thinks Edward is a horrible deceiver, as well as Lucy Steele. Marianne then wants to know Elinor's part in this - how long has she known about it? Upon being told that Elinor knew for the last four months, Marianne seriously cannot believe it - after all, how could Elinor possibly have kept all of this bottled up for so long? Elinor tries to explain herself; though she'd wanted to tell others, she couldn't without breaking her promise to Lucy. Yes, she'd loved Edward all along, but she wants him to be happy, even if that means that he must marry Lucy. She then tries to explain to her passionate sister the process of grief and attempted consolation she's gone through - it hasn't been easy! Marianne is shocked and dismayed that she's been so cruel and ungrateful to her sister; the two comfort each other for their heartbreaks. Marianne swears that she'll never forgive anyone involved in this debacle. She also promises to be discreet, and she always has Elinor's back with regards to Mrs. Jennings's gossip. For the first time, Marianne actually holds her tongue, and her behavior makes Elinor feel stronger. The next day, a grim John comes to visit. He tells them that Fanny is doing fairly well, all things considered, but that Mrs. Ferrars is having a really rough time of it. She feels totally betrayed - after all, she was trying to make a good match for Edward, and he has the nerve to be secretly engaged! Mrs. Ferrars sent for Edward, and upon his arrival, informed him that he had a choice - he could either be wealthy and on good terms with his family, or he could marry Lucy and be basically disowned . Furthermore, if he chose the latter path, his mother would do her best to prevent him from succeeding in his chosen profession as a clergyman. That seems way harsh to us. It also seems way harsh to Marianne, who exclaims her indignation. John proceeds with his story. Apparently, Edward was not to be bought off; he did the right thing and said he would marry Lucy. Mrs. Jennings thinks he's done the right thing - after all, he's kept his promise. John is shocked by this response, since he can't imagine doing such a thing. Anyway, in the end, Edward was sent away from his mother's home, never to return. Nobody knows where he's gone, or what he'll do now. All of the money that was supposed to go to him will now to go his younger brother, the undeserving Robert. John expresses his sympathy for Edward, then leaves. The ladies all approve of Edward's honorable actions, despite their personal stakes in the matter.

While visiting her daughter Charlotte, Mrs. Jennings learned from Doctor Donovan that he had just left Mrs. John Dashwood, who was suffering from hysterics. Anne Steele had innocently revealed the news of Lucy Steele's engagement to Edward, and Fanny, aghast, had ordered Lucy out of her house. Elinor realized that she must tell Marianne about the whole affair before Marianne heard it from Mrs. Jennings. Her sister was heartbroken." What!" she said. "While attending me in all my misery, has this been on your heart?" Elinor, taking advantage of her sister's recriminations, made Marianne promise to show discretion when hearing or talking about the affair. On the following day, the sisters again heard the story, this time from John Dashwood. He told them that Fanny had told her mother about the engagement, and Mrs. Ferrars had sent for Edward, who refused to break it. He left the house in spite of his mother's declaration that she would disinherit him. Mrs. Ferrars' latest plan was to give Edward's inheritance to his brother Robert, immediately.

Mrs. Jennings continues to reveal herself as the kindly and sensible creature she is. Her tactless curiosity and gossip began by offending Elinor and Marianne, but the sisters have by now learned that she has a big heart, which is what really matters. She energetically sides with Lucy against the wealth and family connections of the Dashwoods and the Ferrarses. "I declare I have no patience with your sister," she says, indignant because Fanny Dashwood has thrown Lucy out of her house, "and I hope, with all my heart, it will be a match in spite of her. . . . I have no notion of people's making such a to-do about money and greatness." Ironically, her simple heart can see no contrivance in the devious Lucy.

Elinor has met Mrs. Ferrars and finds nothing to commend her. She is happy that she will no longer have to associate with her. Lucy is impressed by both Mrs. Ferrars and Fanny Dashwood. She is delighted to earn their favor and hopes that she will be accepted as the new daughter of their house. Just as the two girls are exchanging views about Mrs. Ferrars, Edward enters the room. Both Edward and Elinor feel awkward. Lucy does nothing to ease the situation. Elinor plays the part of a good hostess by exchanging polite remarks with him. She also calls Marianne so that she can speak with Edward. Marianne is overly effusive and asks him to spend some more time with them. Edward, however, takes his leave.

Notes Jane Austen creates an uncomfortable situation, in which both Elinor and Lucy are present before the man they love. Edward feels awkward, and Lucy worsens the condition with her silence. It is Elinor who saves the moment through her presence of mind. She welcomes Edward and encourages him to participate in their conversation. She is magnanimous enough to allow Edward to spend a few minutes alone with Lucy. She shows no bitterness towards Edward. Lucy poses a complete contrast to Elinor. She is cold and indifferent to his feelings. She also mocks him. She feels insecure in the presence of Elinor. Instead of taking leave of them, she shamelessly remains on the scene, much to the discomfort of Edward, Elinor and Marianne. It is interesting that with the exception of Edward, all the other people that Lucy likes, Elinor dislikes. Elinor feels disgusted at the snobbish and rude behavior of both Mrs. Ferrars and Fanny Dashwood, while Lucy finds the mother and daughter delightful company. Elinor is relieved to be spared their company in the future, while Lucy looks forward to a life-long relationship with them. CHAPTER 36 Summary Mrs. Jennings decides to spend more time with her daughter, Charlotte, who has had a baby. Elinor and Marianne are thrown in the compadny of Lady Middleton and the Steele sisters as a result of this. One day they receive an invitation to a musical party. At the party Elinor gets acquainted with Robert Ferrars. She identifies him as the same man who had taken a long time to choose a tooth-pick case at Gray's. She thinks he is a foolish, shallow and conceited man. The Steeles are invited to spend a few days with John Dashwood and his wife. The girls are delighted and inform the Dashwood sisters of the invitation. Shortly afterwards, John Dashwood visits his sisters. He talks about the Misses Steele and how impressed Fanny is with them. Notes This chapter also sparkles with Jane Austen's humor. Speaking of Lady Middleton, Austen writes: "Though nothing could be more polite than Lady Middleton's behavior to Elinor and Marianne, she did not really like them at all. Because they neither flattered herself nor her children, she could not believe them good- natured; and because they were fond of reading, she fancied them satirical: perhaps without exactly knowing what it was to be satirical; but that did not signify. It was censure in common use, and easily given." Such passages not only showcase Austen's skill as a satirist, but also delineate the ways in which the heroines stand apart from the other characters. One of the most amusing scenes in the chapter is the one in which Fanny Dashwood convinces her husband that it is pointless to invite his sisters to visit them at their house. The scene resembles an earlier one in which Fanny convinces her husband against providing financial help to his sisters. In each case, Fanny tries to make it seem as though logic and propriety, instead of pettiness and malice, influence her decisions. One more character is introduced in the chapter. He is Robert Ferrars. Unlike his brother, he is shallow and conceited and tries to impress young ladies with his limited knowledge. Elinor patiently listens to his prattle. She "agreed to it all, for she did not think he deserved the compliment of rational opposition." CHAPTER 37 Summary Mrs. Jennings informs Elinor of Lucy's engagement to Edward. She also recounts how Fanny reacted when she heard this news. Fanny became hysterical and drove the Steeles out of her house. Later, Mrs. Ferrars summoned Edward and asked him to terminate the engagement. However, Edward stood his ground, and the old lady disinherited him. Elinor relates this information to her sister. Marianne is shocked to hear the news. She condemns both Lucy and Edward for their decision. Notes Two humorous characters describe the scene that occurred in Fanny Dashwood's house when the news of Lucy's engagement to Edward was announced. Mrs. Jennings conveys the gossip of the day with exclamations and imaginary conversations. Talking about Fanny's reaction to the news, she remarks, "She fell into violent hysterics immediately, with such screams as reached your brother's ears, as he was sitting in his own dressing room downstairs. . . So up he flew directly, and a terrible scene took place, for Lucy was come to them by that time, little dreaming what was going on. Poor Soul!. . . for your sister scolded like any fury, and soon drove her into a fainting fit." John Dashwood, however, describes the scene through the eyes of a devoted husband and presents his wife as the offended party. "Poor Fanny! She was in hysterics all yesterday. . . . She has borne it all with the fortitude of an angel." He confounds his wife's devilish rage with an angel's strength. Elinor at last reveals Lucy's secret to Marianne. She controls her own emotions and relates the events cautiously, so as not to shock her sister with the news. She discloses the information without damaging Edward's character. She is generous in excusing his juvenile blunder and wishes him well. Marianne admires her sister's will power and tolerance.


Mrs. Jennings was very warm in her praise of Edward's conduct, but only
Elinor and Marianne understood its true merit.  THEY only knew how
little he had had to tempt him to be disobedient, and how small was the
consolation, beyond the consciousness of doing right, that could remain
to him in the loss of friends and fortune.  Elinor gloried in his
integrity; and Marianne forgave all his offences in compassion for his
punishment.  But though confidence between them was, by this public
discovery, restored to its proper state, it was not a subject on which
either of them were fond of dwelling when alone.  Elinor avoided it
upon principle, as tending to fix still more upon her thoughts, by the
too warm, too positive assurances of Marianne, that belief of Edward's
continued affection for herself which she rather wished to do away; and
Marianne's courage soon failed her, in trying to converse upon a topic
which always left her more dissatisfied with herself than ever, by the
comparison it necessarily produced between Elinor's conduct and her own.

She felt all the force of that comparison; but not as her sister had
hoped, to urge her to exertion now; she felt it with all the pain of
continual self-reproach, regretted most bitterly that she had never
exerted herself before; but it brought only the torture of penitence,
without the hope of amendment.  Her mind was so much weakened that she
still fancied present exertion impossible, and therefore it only
dispirited her more.

Nothing new was heard by them, for a day or two afterwards, of affairs
in Harley Street, or Bartlett's Buildings.  But though so much of the
matter was known to them already, that Mrs. Jennings might have had
enough to do in spreading that knowledge farther, without seeking after
more, she had resolved from the first to pay a visit of comfort and
inquiry to her cousins as soon as she could; and nothing but the
hindrance of more visitors than usual, had prevented her going to them
within that time.

The third day succeeding their knowledge of the particulars, was so
fine, so beautiful a Sunday as to draw many to Kensington Gardens,
though it was only the second week in March.  Mrs. Jennings and Elinor
were of the number; but Marianne, who knew that the Willoughbys were
again in town, and had a constant dread of meeting them, chose rather
to stay at home, than venture into so public a place.

An intimate acquaintance of Mrs. Jennings joined them soon after they
entered the Gardens, and Elinor was not sorry that by her continuing
with them, and engaging all Mrs. Jennings's conversation, she was
herself left to quiet reflection.  She saw nothing of the Willoughbys,
nothing of Edward, and for some time nothing of anybody who could by
any chance whether grave or gay, be interesting to her.  But at last
she found herself with some surprise, accosted by Miss Steele, who,
though looking rather shy, expressed great satisfaction in meeting
them, and on receiving encouragement from the particular kindness of
Mrs. Jennings, left her own party for a short time, to join their's.
Mrs. Jennings immediately whispered to Elinor,

"Get it all out of her, my dear.  She will tell you any thing if you
ask.  You see I cannot leave Mrs. Clarke."

It was lucky, however, for Mrs. Jennings's curiosity and Elinor's too,
that she would tell any thing WITHOUT being asked; for nothing would
otherwise have been learnt.

"I am so glad to meet you;" said Miss Steele, taking her familiarly by
the arm--"for I wanted to see you of all things in the world."  And
then lowering her voice, "I suppose Mrs. Jennings has heard all about
it.  Is she angry?"

"Not at all, I believe, with you."

"That is a good thing.  And Lady Middleton, is SHE angry?"

"I cannot suppose it possible that she should be."

"I am monstrous glad of it.  Good gracious!  I have had such a time of
it!  I never saw Lucy in such a rage in my life.  She vowed at first
she would never trim me up a new bonnet, nor do any thing else for me
again, so long as she lived; but now she is quite come to, and we are
as good friends as ever.  Look, she made me this bow to my hat, and put
in the feather last night.  There now, YOU are going to laugh at me
too.  But why should not I wear pink ribbons?  I do not care if it IS
the Doctor's favourite colour.  I am sure, for my part, I should never
have known he DID like it better than any other colour, if he had not
happened to say so.  My cousins have been so plaguing me!  I declare
sometimes I do not know which way to look before them."

She had wandered away to a subject on which Elinor had nothing to say,
and therefore soon judged it expedient to find her way back again to
the first.

"Well, but Miss Dashwood," speaking triumphantly, "people may say what
they chuse about Mr. Ferrars's declaring he would not have Lucy, for it
is no such thing I can tell you; and it is quite a shame for such
ill-natured reports to be spread abroad.  Whatever Lucy might think
about it herself, you know, it was no business of other people to set
it down for certain."

"I never heard any thing of the kind hinted at before, I assure you,"
said Elinor.

"Oh, did not you?  But it WAS said, I know, very well, and by more than
one; for Miss Godby told Miss Sparks, that nobody in their senses could
expect Mr. Ferrars to give up a woman like Miss Morton, with thirty
thousand pounds to her fortune, for Lucy Steele that had nothing at
all; and I had it from Miss Sparks myself.  And besides that, my cousin
Richard said himself, that when it came to the point he was afraid Mr.
Ferrars would be off; and when Edward did not come near us for three
days, I could not tell what to think myself; and I believe in my heart
Lucy gave it up all for lost; for we came away from your brother's
Wednesday, and we saw nothing of him not all Thursday, Friday, and
Saturday, and did not know what was become of him.  Once Lucy thought
to write to him, but then her spirits rose against that.  However this
morning he came just as we came home from church; and then it all came
out, how he had been sent for Wednesday to Harley Street, and been
talked to by his mother and all of them, and how he had declared before
them all that he loved nobody but Lucy, and nobody but Lucy would he
have.  And how he had been so worried by what passed, that as soon as
he had went away from his mother's house, he had got upon his horse,
and rid into the country, some where or other; and how he had stayed
about at an inn all Thursday and Friday, on purpose to get the better
of it.  And after thinking it all over and over again, he said, it
seemed to him as if, now he had no fortune, and no nothing at all, it
would be quite unkind to keep her on to the engagement, because it must
be for her loss, for he had nothing but two thousand pounds, and no
hope of any thing else; and if he was to go into orders, as he had some
thoughts, he could get nothing but a curacy, and how was they to live
upon that?--He could not bear to think of her doing no better, and so
he begged, if she had the least mind for it, to put an end to the
matter directly, and leave him shift for himself.  I heard him say all
this as plain as could possibly be.  And it was entirely for HER sake,
and upon HER account, that he said a word about being off, and not upon
his own.  I will take my oath he never dropt a syllable of being tired
of her, or of wishing to marry Miss Morton, or any thing like it.  But,
to be sure, Lucy would not give ear to such kind of talking; so she
told him directly (with a great deal about sweet and love, you know,
and all that--Oh, la! one can't repeat such kind of things you
know)--she told him directly, she had not the least mind in the world
to be off, for she could live with him upon a trifle, and how little so
ever he might have, she should be very glad to have it all, you know,
or something of the kind.  So then he was monstrous happy, and talked
on some time about what they should do, and they agreed he should take
orders directly, and they must wait to be married till he got a living.
And just then I could not hear any more, for my cousin called from
below to tell me Mrs. Richardson was come in her coach, and would take
one of us to Kensington Gardens; so I was forced to go into the room
and interrupt them, to ask Lucy if she would like to go, but she did
not care to leave Edward; so I just run up stairs and put on a pair of
silk stockings and came off with the Richardsons."

"I do not understand what you mean by interrupting them," said Elinor;
"you were all in the same room together, were not you?"

"No, indeed, not us.  La! Miss Dashwood, do you think people make love
when any body else is by?  Oh, for shame!--To be sure you must know
better than that.  (Laughing affectedly.)--No, no; they were shut up in
the drawing-room together, and all I heard was only by listening at the
door."

"How!" cried Elinor; "have you been repeating to me what you only
learnt yourself by listening at the door?  I am sorry I did not know it
before; for I certainly would not have suffered you to give me
particulars of a conversation which you ought not to have known
yourself.  How could you behave so unfairly by your sister?"

"Oh, la! there is nothing in THAT.  I only stood at the door, and heard
what I could.  And I am sure Lucy would have done just the same by me;
for a year or two back, when Martha Sharpe and I had so many secrets
together, she never made any bones of hiding in a closet, or behind a
chimney-board, on purpose to hear what we said."

Elinor tried to talk of something else; but Miss Steele could not be
kept beyond a couple of minutes, from what was uppermost in her mind.

"Edward talks of going to Oxford soon," said she; "but now he is
lodging at No. --, Pall Mall.  What an ill-natured woman his mother is,
an't she? And your brother and sister were not very kind! However, I
shan't say anything against them to YOU; and to be sure they did send
us home in their own chariot, which was more than I looked for.  And
for my part, I was all in a fright for fear your sister should ask us
for the huswifes she had gave us a day or two before; but, however,
nothing was said about them, and I took care to keep mine out of sight.
Edward have got some business at Oxford, he says; so he must go there
for a time; and after THAT, as soon as he can light upon a Bishop, he
will be ordained.  I wonder what curacy he will get!--Good gracious!
(giggling as she spoke) I'd lay my life I know what my cousins will
say, when they hear of it.  They will tell me I should write to the
Doctor, to get Edward the curacy of his new living.  I know they will;
but I am sure I would not do such a thing for all the world.-- 'La!' I
shall say directly, 'I wonder how you could think of such a thing?  I
write to the Doctor, indeed!'"

"Well," said Elinor, "it is a comfort to be prepared against the worst.
You have got your answer ready."

Miss Steele was going to reply on the same subject, but the approach of
her own party made another more necessary.

"Oh, la! here come the Richardsons.  I had a vast deal more to say to
you, but I must not stay away from them not any longer.  I assure you
they are very genteel people.  He makes a monstrous deal of money, and
they keep their own coach.  I have not time to speak to Mrs. Jennings
about it myself, but pray tell her I am quite happy to hear she is not
in anger against us, and Lady Middleton the same; and if anything
should happen to take you and your sister away, and Mrs. Jennings
should want company, I am sure we should be very glad to come and stay
with her for as long a time as she likes.  I suppose Lady Middleton
won't ask us any more this bout.  Good-by; I am sorry Miss Marianne was
not here.  Remember me kindly to her.  La! if you have not got your
spotted muslin on!--I wonder you was not afraid of its being torn."

Such was her parting concern; for after this, she had time only to pay
her farewell compliments to Mrs. Jennings, before her company was
claimed by Mrs. Richardson; and Elinor was left in possession of
knowledge which might feed her powers of reflection some time, though
she had learnt very little more than what had been already foreseen and
foreplanned in her own mind.  Edward's marriage with Lucy was as firmly
determined on, and the time of its taking place remained as absolutely
uncertain, as she had concluded it would be;--every thing depended,
exactly after her expectation, on his getting that preferment, of
which, at present, there seemed not the smallest chance.

As soon as they returned to the carriage, Mrs. Jennings was eager for
information; but as Elinor wished to spread as little as possible
intelligence that had in the first place been so unfairly obtained, she
confined herself to the brief repetition of such simple particulars, as
she felt assured that Lucy, for the sake of her own consequence, would
choose to have known.  The continuance of their engagement, and the
means that were able to be taken for promoting its end, was all her
communication; and this produced from Mrs. Jennings the following
natural remark.

"Wait for his having a living!--ay, we all know how THAT will
end:--they will wait a twelvemonth, and finding no good comes of it,
will set down upon a curacy of fifty pounds a-year, with the interest
of his two thousand pounds, and what little matter Mr. Steele and Mr.
Pratt can give her.--Then they will have a child every year! and Lord
help 'em! how poor they will be!--I must see what I can give them
towards furnishing their house.  Two maids and two men, indeed!--as I
talked of t'other day.--No, no, they must get a stout girl of all
works.-- Betty's sister would never do for them NOW."

The next morning brought Elinor a letter by the two-penny post from
Lucy herself.  It was as follows:

                    "Bartlett's Building, March.

     "I hope my dear Miss Dashwood will excuse the
     liberty I take of writing to her; but I know your
     friendship for me will make you pleased to hear such
     a good account of myself and my dear Edward, after
     all the troubles we have went through lately,
     therefore will make no more apologies, but proceed
     to say that, thank God! though we have suffered
     dreadfully, we are both quite well now, and as happy
     as we must always be in one another's love.  We have
     had great trials, and great persecutions, but
     however, at the same time, gratefully acknowledge
     many friends, yourself not the least among them,
     whose great kindness I shall always thankfully
     remember, as will Edward too, who I have told of
     it.  I am sure you will be glad to hear, as likewise
     dear Mrs. Jennings, I spent two happy hours with
     him yesterday afternoon, he would not hear of our
     parting, though earnestly did I, as I thought my
     duty required, urge him to it for prudence sake,
     and would have parted for ever on the spot, would
     he consent to it; but he said it should never be,
     he did not regard his mother's anger, while he could
     have my affections; our prospects are not very
     bright, to be sure, but we must wait, and hope for
     the best; he will be ordained shortly; and should
     it ever be in your power to recommend him to any
     body that has a living to bestow, am very sure you
     will not forget us, and dear Mrs. Jennings too,
     trust she will speak a good word for us to Sir John,
     or Mr. Palmer, or any friend that may be able to
     assist us.--Poor Anne was much to blame for what
     she did, but she did it for the best, so I say
     nothing; hope Mrs. Jennings won't think it too much
     trouble to give us a call, should she come this way
     any morning, 'twould be a great kindness, and my
     cousins would be proud to know her.--My paper reminds
     me to conclude; and begging to be most gratefully
     and respectfully remembered to her, and to Sir John,
     and Lady Middleton, and the dear children, when you
     chance to see them, and love to Miss Marianne,

                                      "I am, &c."

As soon as Elinor had finished it, she performed what she concluded to
be its writer's real design, by placing it in the hands of Mrs.
Jennings, who read it aloud with many comments of satisfaction and
praise.

"Very well indeed!--how prettily she writes!--aye, that was quite
proper to let him be off if he would.  That was just like Lucy.--Poor
soul! I wish I COULD get him a living, with all my heart.--She calls me
dear Mrs. Jennings, you see.  She is a good-hearted girl as ever
lived.--Very well upon my word.  That sentence is very prettily turned.
Yes, yes, I will go and see her, sure enough.  How attentive she is, to
think of every body!--Thank you, my dear, for shewing it me.  It is as
pretty a letter as ever I saw, and does Lucy's head and heart great
credit."

Elinor and Marianne think that Edward's resolve to marry Lucy is honorable, all the more since he probably knows he will not be happy marrying her. Elinor has the bad luck of meeting Miss Steele on a walk in Kensington Gardens, and she offers up all the latest news of her sister and Edward that Elinor so desperately wishes to avoid. Elinor does gain the information that the date of Edward and Lucy's marriage is altogether uncertain, since he must find a position within the church and save a good deal of money, which could take a good deal of time; this could be seen as a hopeful thing, as much could happen in that indefinitely long stretch of time. Lucy writes Elinor a letter, saying that she and Edward are happy, but need assistance so that they can marry. Elinor hands the information over to Mrs. Jennings, who thinks the letter does Lucy "great credit," and makes Mrs. Jennings more resolved to help her.

For almost the first time, Marianne is enduring feelings of "self-reproach"; she is examining her behavior and its merits, and correcting herself for not being as strong as Elinor about her disappointments. Self-reproach and self-correction are Marianne's only hope if she is to get over Willoughby and learn how to shield herself from gossip and impertinence in the future. Miss Steele's presence in the chapter again shows the low manners of herself and her sister, and how unworthy they are of a connection with a fine man like Edward. Lucy is emboldened by Edward sticking to their engagement, and her letter to Elinor reeks of pure self-interest and selfishness; she seems to be trying to abuse Elinor's patience and good nature for her own possible gain. That Lucy also uses this letter to Elinor as an obvious ploy to attain Mrs. Jennings' help again shows her selfish, unrefined nature

As we just mentioned, Mrs. Jennings, Elinor, and Marianne all think that Edward did the right thing in sticking by his fiancee, Lucy Steele. The two girls are both proud of his integrity, despite their own sadness. It's Elinor's turn for heartache, and Marianne's turn to be the strong sister. She tries her best to exert her power of will in helping out her sister. No word arrives from Lucy or Edward - what's going on? A beautiful day arrives, and Elinor and Mrs. Jennings go to enjoy the weather in Kensington Gardens . Elinor, left on her own after Mrs. Jennings finds a friend of hers, doesn't see anyone - not Edward, not the Willoughbys. She does, however, run into Miss Steele, and is encouraged by Mrs. Jennings to "get it all out of her." Miss Steele wants to know first and foremost if anyone is angry at her. Apparently, Lucy pitched a fit when Miss Steele broke the news to Fanny. Now, though, she's gotten over it. Apparently, many people have been shocked, as John was, by the fact that Edward chose Lucy over Miss Morton and her thirty thousand pounds; however, after a few days, he came to visit them to clear up matters - everything seems like it's fine between the lovers, and they plan to be married. Miss Steele admits that she learned all of this by eavesdropping, and Elinor is embarrassed for her sake. Right now, Edward is in London for the time being, but plans to go to Oxford to do some business soon. The Richardsons, with whom the Steeles are staying now, come by, and Miss Steele rushes off to join them, after sending her regards to Marianne along with Elinor. Elinor tries to figure out what she should think: the facts is, Edward is definitely going to marry Lucy, whenever he gets a job as a curate somewhere. Mrs. Jennings tries to pry as much information as possible out of Elinor on their way back home, but she doesn't get much for her efforts. Mrs. Jennings has a rather pessimistic view of how poor Edward and Lucy will be, and wonders if she might be able to help them out. The next morning, Elinor receives a letter from Lucy, basically thanking her for her discretion and for all of her guidance. It's a gloat-ful letter, assuring Elinor of how happy she and Edward are, despite their troubles. She also wants Elinor to pass her regards on to everyone else. Elinor passes the letter on to Mrs. Jennings, as Lucy apparently intended her to. Mrs. Jennings reads it happily, praising Lucy left and right.

Marianne continued to grieve over her dear sister's pain and over her own lack of control in the face of Elinor's fortitude. For several days, nothing more was heard about Edward and Lucy. The third day was "so fine, so beautiful a Sunday as to draw many to Kensington Gardens." There Elinor met Anne Steele, who by eavesdropping on their conversation was able to tell her that Edward finally came to see Lucy and offered to release her from their engagement: "But, to be sure, Lucy would not give ear to such kind of talking." Edward had decided to enter the Church and could not marry until he found a living. Elinor related this to Mrs. Jennings, who said, "Wait for a living! Aye, we all know how that will end; they will wait for a twelvemonth, and finding no good comes of it, will set down upon a curacy of fifty pounds a year." Later, Elinor received a letter from Lucy confirming this information and hinting that she would appreciate any assistance people would give her.

This chapter affords an excellent example of the author's skill in depicting character and personality through dialogue. All of Anne Steele's vulgarity, lack of education, and weakness of character are revealed in her lengthy monologue. She is coy about "the doctor's" preference for her, which seems to exist wholly in her mind. She is completely mercenary in her constant talk of money and Edward's lack of it. She is wholly without reticence, even explaining how she listened at the door when Edward and Lucy were talking together in the drawing room. In complete contrast, Elinor, in her brief and discreet replies, shows her good breeding. She is naturally curious to know what has gone on between Edward and Lucy, but she does not ply Anne with questions, and she is genuinely horrified at hearing of Anne's eavesdropping: "I certainly would not have suffered you to give me particulars of a conversation which you ought not to have known yourself."

Three days after the incident at John Dashwood's house, Mrs. Jennings and Elinor go out for a walk to Kensington gardens. After separating from Mrs. Jennings, Elinor meets Anne Steele, and the two talk about Lucy and the unhappy incident. Miss Steele also tells Elinor about Edward's visit that morning and how she had overheard an intimate conversation between him and Lucy. Elinor is disgusted at her behavior. After reaching home, she relates the incident to Mrs. Jennings. Later, she receives a letter from Lucy by the two-penny post informing her of their current circumstances. She seeks the help of the Middletons or Palmers to offer a position to Edward. Elinor shows the letter to Mrs. Jennings. The old lady is impressed by the letter.

Notes The chapter reveals the somewhat crass behavior of the Steele sisters. Miss Steele reveals to Elinor that she had purposely stood outside the door of the locked room in which Lucy and Edward were conversing. She does not feel guilty about her behavior; her justification is that even Lucy had eavesdropped earlier. Lucy's letter also exposes her selfishness and base nature. Lucy asks Elinor to recommend her case to anyone who will be willing to provide a position to Edward. She looks forward to the help of Mrs. Jennings, the Middletons and the Palmers. Lucy is not ashamed to ask favors of others. CHAPTER 39 Summary Elinor and Marianne are invited by the Palmers to Cleveland. At the insistence of Mrs. Jennings, they decide to accept the invitation. One day Colonel Brandon visits them and asks Elinor to inform Edward that he is prepared to give a position at Delaford to him. Edward could lead a comfortable life on an income of two thousand pounds, but he would not be able to afford a wife. Mrs. Jennings, who observes Elinor and Colonel Brandon talking animatedly, concludes that they must be talking about a wedding. Notes In answer to Marianne's wish that they go home, the sisters are invited to accompany Mrs. Jennings to Cleveland. Since it will be easy for them to reach Barton from Cleveland, they accept the invitation. Mrs. Jennings, who is always engaged in matchmaking, starts imagining the Colonel to be in love with Elinor. Thus, when she hears the phrase, "I am afraid it cannot take place very soon," she is angry with the Colonel for postponing their wedding. Misunderstanding causes much humor in the scene. Colonel Brandon can be rightly identified as a generous man who willingly offers a living to Edward in Delaford. His love for Marianne and respect for Elinor makes him extend help to their friends. It is ironic that he chooses Elinor to convey this information to Edward. CHAPTER 40 Summary Mrs. Jennings approaches Elinor soon after the Colonel's exit. She congratulates her and asks her many questions, which gradually reveal her mistaken assumption that there is an engagement between Elinor and the Colonel. Elinor mentions Brandon's generosity and his request to her to convey the information to Edward. Mrs. Jennings is puzzled, and as she is in a hurry to leave, she decides to speak further with Elinor upon her return. When Edward arrives, Elinor tells him the good news. He is pleasantly surprised. He promises to meet the Colonel and thank him for his generosity. Mrs. Jennings returns to the house and asks Elinor if Edward is prepared to get ordained to perform her marriage to the Colonel. Elinor is shocked to hear Mrs. Jennings' words. She corrects the misunderstanding by informing the old lady of the Colonel's offer to Edward. Notes This chapter demonstrates the misunderstandings that arise when a character like Mrs. Jennings gives her interpretation of the events that she witnesses. The conversation between Elinor and Mrs. Jennings is amusing as each misinterprets the other's words. Elinor is unaware of Mrs. Jennings' suspicions, and hence she talks about informing Edward of the Colonel's offer. Mrs. Jennings is then unable to understand why Edward should be informed of the Colonel's proposal. She surmises that Elinor and the Colonel might have decided to get married only after Edward has been ordained and is ready to perform their wedding. Much humor results from this confused conversation. Edward Ferrars is obviously surprised when Elinor informs him of the Colonel's generous offer at Delaford: in this time of crisis, assistance from such an unexpected quarter is astonishing. Like Mrs. Jennings, he believes the Colonel to be in love with Elinor. He feels that Brandon has offered him help only to please Elinor. Thus he thanks Elinor for helping him.