The Palmers returned to Cleveland the next day, and the two families at
Barton were again left to entertain each other.  But this did not last
long; Elinor had hardly got their last visitors out of her head, had
hardly done wondering at Charlotte's being so happy without a cause, at
Mr. Palmer's acting so simply, with good abilities, and at the strange
unsuitableness which often existed between husband and wife, before Sir
John's and Mrs. Jennings's active zeal in the cause of society,
procured her some other new acquaintance to see and observe.

In a morning's excursion to Exeter, they had met with two young ladies,
whom Mrs. Jennings had the satisfaction of discovering to be her
relations, and this was enough for Sir John to invite them directly to
the park, as soon as their present engagements at Exeter were over.
Their engagements at Exeter instantly gave way before such an
invitation, and Lady Middleton was thrown into no little alarm on the
return of Sir John, by hearing that she was very soon to receive a
visit from two girls whom she had never seen in her life, and of whose
elegance,--whose tolerable gentility even, she could have no proof; for
the assurances of her husband and mother on that subject went for
nothing at all.  Their being her relations too made it so much the
worse; and Mrs. Jennings's attempts at consolation were therefore
unfortunately founded, when she advised her daughter not to care about
their being so fashionable; because they were all cousins and must put
up with one another.  As it was impossible, however, now to prevent
their coming, Lady Middleton resigned herself to the idea of it, with
all the philosophy of a well-bred woman, contenting herself with merely
giving her husband a gentle reprimand on the subject five or six times
every day.

The young ladies arrived: their appearance was by no means ungenteel or
unfashionable.  Their dress was very smart, their manners very civil,
they were delighted with the house, and in raptures with the furniture,
and they happened to be so doatingly fond of children that Lady
Middleton's good opinion was engaged in their favour before they had
been an hour at the Park.  She declared them to be very agreeable girls
indeed, which for her ladyship was enthusiastic admiration.  Sir John's
confidence in his own judgment rose with this animated praise, and he
set off directly for the cottage to tell the Miss Dashwoods of the Miss
Steeles' arrival, and to assure them of their being the sweetest girls
in the world.  From such commendation as this, however, there was not
much to be learned; Elinor well knew that the sweetest girls in the
world were to be met with in every part of England, under every
possible variation of form, face, temper and understanding.  Sir John
wanted the whole family to walk to the Park directly and look at his
guests.  Benevolent, philanthropic man!  It was painful to him even to
keep a third cousin to himself.

"Do come now," said he--"pray come--you must come--I declare you shall
come--You can't think how you will like them.  Lucy is monstrous
pretty, and so good humoured and agreeable!  The children are all
hanging about her already, as if she was an old acquaintance.  And they
both long to see you of all things, for they have heard at Exeter that
you are the most beautiful creatures in the world; and I have told them
it is all very true, and a great deal more.  You will be delighted with
them I am sure.  They have brought the whole coach full of playthings
for the children.  How can you be so cross as not to come?  Why they
are your cousins, you know, after a fashion.  YOU are my cousins, and
they are my wife's, so you must be related."

But Sir John could not prevail.  He could only obtain a promise of
their calling at the Park within a day or two, and then left them in
amazement at their indifference, to walk home and boast anew of their
attractions to the Miss Steeles, as he had been already boasting of the
Miss Steeles to them.

When their promised visit to the Park and consequent introduction to
these young ladies took place, they found in the appearance of the
eldest, who was nearly thirty, with a very plain and not a sensible
face, nothing to admire; but in the other, who was not more than two or
three and twenty, they acknowledged considerable beauty; her features
were pretty, and she had a sharp quick eye, and a smartness of air,
which though it did not give actual elegance or grace, gave distinction
to her person.-- Their manners were particularly civil, and Elinor soon
allowed them credit for some kind of sense, when she saw with what
constant and judicious attention they were making themselves agreeable
to Lady Middleton.  With her children they were in continual raptures,
extolling their beauty, courting their notice, and humouring their
whims; and such of their time as could be spared from the importunate
demands which this politeness made on it, was spent in admiration of
whatever her ladyship was doing, if she happened to be doing any thing,
or in taking patterns of some elegant new dress, in which her
appearance the day before had thrown them into unceasing delight.
Fortunately for those who pay their court through such foibles, a fond
mother, though, in pursuit of praise for her children, the most
rapacious of human beings, is likewise the most credulous; her demands
are exorbitant; but she will swallow any thing; and the excessive
affection and endurance of the Miss Steeles towards her offspring were
viewed therefore by Lady Middleton without the smallest surprise or
distrust.  She saw with maternal complacency all the impertinent
encroachments and mischievous tricks to which her cousins submitted.
She saw their sashes untied, their hair pulled about their ears, their
work-bags searched, and their knives and scissors stolen away, and felt
no doubt of its being a reciprocal enjoyment.  It suggested no other
surprise than that Elinor and Marianne should sit so composedly by,
without claiming a share in what was passing.

"John is in such spirits today!" said she, on his taking Miss Steeles's
pocket handkerchief, and throwing it out of window--"He is full of
monkey tricks."

And soon afterwards, on the second boy's violently pinching one of the
same lady's fingers, she fondly observed, "How playful William is!"

"And here is my sweet little Annamaria," she added, tenderly caressing
a little girl of three years old, who had not made a noise for the last
two minutes; "And she is always so gentle and quiet--Never was there
such a quiet little thing!"

But unfortunately in bestowing these embraces, a pin in her ladyship's
head dress slightly scratching the child's neck, produced from this
pattern of gentleness such violent screams, as could hardly be outdone
by any creature professedly noisy.  The mother's consternation was
excessive; but it could not surpass the alarm of the Miss Steeles, and
every thing was done by all three, in so critical an emergency, which
affection could suggest as likely to assuage the agonies of the little
sufferer.  She was seated in her mother's lap, covered with kisses, her
wound bathed with lavender-water, by one of the Miss Steeles, who was
on her knees to attend her, and her mouth stuffed with sugar plums by
the other.  With such a reward for her tears, the child was too wise to
cease crying.  She still screamed and sobbed lustily, kicked her two
brothers for offering to touch her, and all their united soothings were
ineffectual till Lady Middleton luckily remembering that in a scene of
similar distress last week, some apricot marmalade had been
successfully applied for a bruised temple, the same remedy was eagerly
proposed for this unfortunate scratch, and a slight intermission of
screams in the young lady on hearing it, gave them reason to hope that
it would not be rejected.-- She was carried out of the room therefore
in her mother's arms, in quest of this medicine, and as the two boys
chose to follow, though earnestly entreated by their mother to stay
behind, the four young ladies were left in a quietness which the room
had not known for many hours.

"Poor little creatures!" said Miss Steele, as soon as they were gone.
"It might have been a very sad accident."

"Yet I hardly know how," cried Marianne, "unless it had been under
totally different circumstances.  But this is the usual way of
heightening alarm, where there is nothing to be alarmed at in reality."

"What a sweet woman Lady Middleton is!" said Lucy Steele.

Marianne was silent; it was impossible for her to say what she did not
feel, however trivial the occasion; and upon Elinor therefore the whole
task of telling lies when politeness required it, always fell.  She did
her best when thus called on, by speaking of Lady Middleton with more
warmth than she felt, though with far less than Miss Lucy.

"And Sir John too," cried the elder sister, "what a charming man he is!"

Here too, Miss Dashwood's commendation, being only simple and just,
came in without any eclat.  She merely observed that he was perfectly
good humoured and friendly.

"And what a charming little family they have!  I never saw such fine
children in my life.--I declare I quite doat upon them already, and
indeed I am always distractedly fond of children."

"I should guess so," said Elinor, with a smile, "from what I have
witnessed this morning."

"I have a notion," said Lucy, "you think the little Middletons rather
too much indulged; perhaps they may be the outside of enough; but it is
so natural in Lady Middleton; and for my part, I love to see children
full of life and spirits; I cannot bear them if they are tame and
quiet."

"I confess," replied Elinor, "that while I am at Barton Park, I never
think of tame and quiet children with any abhorrence."

A short pause succeeded this speech, which was first broken by Miss
Steele, who seemed very much disposed for conversation, and who now
said rather abruptly, "And how do you like Devonshire, Miss Dashwood?
I suppose you were very sorry to leave Sussex."

In some surprise at the familiarity of this question, or at least of
the manner in which it was spoken, Elinor replied that she was.

"Norland is a prodigious beautiful place, is not it?" added Miss Steele.

"We have heard Sir John admire it excessively," said Lucy, who seemed
to think some apology necessary for the freedom of her sister.

"I think every one MUST admire it," replied Elinor, "who ever saw the
place; though it is not to be supposed that any one can estimate its
beauties as we do."

"And had you a great many smart beaux there?  I suppose you have not so
many in this part of the world; for my part, I think they are a vast
addition always."

"But why should you think," said Lucy, looking ashamed of her sister,
"that there are not as many genteel young men in Devonshire as Sussex?"

"Nay, my dear, I'm sure I don't pretend to say that there an't.  I'm
sure there's a vast many smart beaux in Exeter; but you know, how could
I tell what smart beaux there might be about Norland; and I was only
afraid the Miss Dashwoods might find it dull at Barton, if they had not
so many as they used to have.  But perhaps you young ladies may not
care about the beaux, and had as lief be without them as with them.
For my part, I think they are vastly agreeable, provided they dress
smart and behave civil.  But I can't bear to see them dirty and nasty.
Now there's Mr. Rose at Exeter, a prodigious smart young man, quite a
beau, clerk to Mr. Simpson, you know, and yet if you do but meet him of
a morning, he is not fit to be seen.-- I suppose your brother was quite
a beau, Miss Dashwood, before he married, as he was so rich?"

"Upon my word," replied Elinor, "I cannot tell you, for I do not
perfectly comprehend the meaning of the word.  But this I can say, that
if he ever was a beau before he married, he is one still for there is
not the smallest alteration in him."

"Oh! dear! one never thinks of married men's being beaux--they have
something else to do."

"Lord! Anne," cried her sister, "you can talk of nothing but
beaux;--you will make Miss Dashwood believe you think of nothing else."
And then to turn the discourse, she began admiring the house and the
furniture.

This specimen of the Miss Steeles was enough.  The vulgar freedom and
folly of the eldest left her no recommendation, and as Elinor was not
blinded by the beauty, or the shrewd look of the youngest, to her want
of real elegance and artlessness, she left the house without any wish
of knowing them better.

Not so the Miss Steeles.--They came from Exeter, well provided with
admiration for the use of Sir John Middleton, his family, and all his
relations, and no niggardly proportion was now dealt out to his fair
cousins, whom they declared to be the most beautiful, elegant,
accomplished, and agreeable girls they had ever beheld, and with whom
they were particularly anxious to be better acquainted.-- And to be
better acquainted therefore, Elinor soon found was their inevitable
lot, for as Sir John was entirely on the side of the Miss Steeles,
their party would be too strong for opposition, and that kind of
intimacy must be submitted to, which consists of sitting an hour or two
together in the same room almost every day.  Sir John could do no more;
but he did not know that any more was required: to be together was, in
his opinion, to be intimate, and while his continual schemes for their
meeting were effectual, he had not a doubt of their being established
friends.

To do him justice, he did every thing in his power to promote their
unreserve, by making the Miss Steeles acquainted with whatever he knew
or supposed of his cousins' situations in the most delicate
particulars,--and Elinor had not seen them more than twice, before the
eldest of them wished her joy on her sister's having been so lucky as
to make a conquest of a very smart beau since she came to Barton.

"'Twill be a fine thing to have her married so young to be sure," said
she, "and I hear he is quite a beau, and prodigious handsome.  And I
hope you may have as good luck yourself soon,--but perhaps you may have
a friend in the corner already."

Elinor could not suppose that Sir John would be more nice in
proclaiming his suspicions of her regard for Edward, than he had been
with respect to Marianne; indeed it was rather his favourite joke of
the two, as being somewhat newer and more conjectural; and since
Edward's visit, they had never dined together without his drinking to
her best affections with so much significancy and so many nods and
winks, as to excite general attention.  The letter F--had been likewise
invariably brought forward, and found productive of such countless
jokes, that its character as the wittiest letter in the alphabet had
been long established with Elinor.

The Miss Steeles, as she expected, had now all the benefit of these
jokes, and in the eldest of them they raised a curiosity to know the
name of the gentleman alluded to, which, though often impertinently
expressed, was perfectly of a piece with her general inquisitiveness
into the concerns of their family.  But Sir John did not sport long
with the curiosity which he delighted to raise, for he had at least as
much pleasure in telling the name, as Miss Steele had in hearing it.

"His name is Ferrars," said he, in a very audible whisper; "but pray do
not tell it, for it's a great secret."

"Ferrars!" repeated Miss Steele; "Mr. Ferrars is the happy man, is he?
What! your sister-in-law's brother, Miss Dashwood? a very agreeable
young man to be sure; I know him very well."

"How can you say so, Anne?" cried Lucy, who generally made an amendment
to all her sister's assertions.  "Though we have seen him once or twice
at my uncle's, it is rather too much to pretend to know him very well."

Elinor heard all this with attention and surprise.  "And who was this
uncle?  Where did he live?  How came they acquainted?"  She wished very
much to have the subject continued, though she did not chuse to join in
it herself; but nothing more of it was said, and for the first time in
her life, she thought Mrs. Jennings deficient either in curiosity after
petty information, or in a disposition to communicate it.  The manner
in which Miss Steele had spoken of Edward, increased her curiosity; for
it struck her as being rather ill-natured, and suggested the suspicion
of that lady's knowing, or fancying herself to know something to his
disadvantage.--But her curiosity was unavailing, for no farther notice
was taken of Mr. Ferrars's name by Miss Steele when alluded to, or even
openly mentioned by Sir John.

The Palmers leave, but Sir John and Mrs. Jennings manage to find new guests right away. They happen to be cousins of Lady Middleton, though she is displeased to learn that she is to entertain unfamiliar company. The Dashwoods are also invited, though they are in no rush to meet with more of the Middleton's company right away; they find the elder sister, Miss Steele, to be nothing remarkable, while Lucy is very pretty but not much better company. They instantly gain Lady Middleton's admiration by paying endless attention to her obnoxious children, which Elinor and Marianne are too sensible to do. Although Marianne and Elinor do not wish to know the girls better, Sir John sees that they spend a good deal of time together. The Steeles seem to have been acquainted on all the particulars of Elinor and Marianne's lives by Mrs. Jennings, as they know about Willoughby too. It appears they also know Edward Ferrars, though Miss Steele's remarks leave Elinor believing that Miss Steele knows more about Edward than she would announce.

In this chapter, Austen writes a gentle satire on the manners of the upper class. Lady Middleton acts as a "well-bred wife" does, resigning herself to having the Steeles as company, but this gracious resignation also means she will "reprimand five or six times a day" on the subject. Sir John's tendency toward overstatement and overly generous praise is also poked fun of by Sir John's claims that the Steeles are the "sweetest girls in the world," and Elinor's contrary observation that the "sweetest girls in the world" can be met all over England, and often aren't very sweet at all. Lady Middleton's vanity is also shown to be ridiculous, since she is vulnerable to even the most obsequious flattery, and accepts the Miss Steeles immediately because of it. Lady Middleton's ceaseless delight in her children's misbehavior also shows her to be a far too doting mother, to an almost absurd degree. Even Sir John's good-natured tendency to wish everyone friends does not escape, as he pushes the Dashwood girls into an undesired acquaintance with the Miss Steeles

The Palmers return to their home at Cleveland the next day, but there are more visitors in store for Barton Park. Mrs. Jennings has discovered some distant relatives on a brief trip to Exeter, and invited them to come stay. Lady Middleton is shaken by this rather odd invitation, but comes around. When the young cousins arrive, they don't disappoint - they're quite polite and fashionable. They simply love everything about Barton, and go out of their way to flatter Lady Middleton, who decides that she likes them after all. Sir John rushes over to fetch Marianne and Elinor, wanting them to meet the new arrivals. He's sure they'll all get along. Sir John can't believe that the Dashwoods aren't stumbling over themselves to get there - instead, they promise him that they'll come and visit within the next couple of days. He goes back to brag about them to the new arrivals, the two Miss Steeles. Elinor and Marianne finally go to see the visitors a couple of days later. The elder Miss Steele is nothing to write home about - she's almost thirty , and not very pretty. The younger sister, Lucy, is a different story, though. She's about 22, and is very pretty - she's very sharp and put-together, though not exactly elegant. Elinor admits to herself that the two sisters do have some common sense; they've figured out that the way into Lady Middleton's heart is by praising her children. Everyone sits and admires the children, even though one of them, Annamaria, has a screaming fit. The Miss Steeles pamper her wholeheartedly. Lady Middleton carries the screaming child away, leaving her four guests alone. They make small talk about Lady Middleton and Sir John; Marianne can't bear to participate in such niceties, so Elinor bears the brunt of the small talk. Miss Steele asks if they've been enjoying their new home in Devonshire, and comments that they must have been sad to leave Norland. Whoa - this is kind of a personal question for someone who's practically a stranger! Elinor is a little taken aback, and responds rather cautiously that she was. There's some small talk about Norland's beauties, in which Lucy seems a little apologetic for her rude older sister. Miss Steele then pushes forward, asking if the Dashwoods had many handsome beaux there - that is, did they have a lot of boyfriends? Lucy's embarrassed again by her sister's forthrightness. Miss Steele goes on and on about "beaux" - what men should be like to be a good beau. She's totally ridiculous, and it's obvious that this is all she ever thinks about. Everyone else is kind of mortified by the turn of conversation. Lucy changes the subject, but the damage is done - the Dashwoods leave, certain that they don't want to hang out with the Steeles anymore. Elinor can't stand the older one, and even pretty Lucy kind of turned her off with her obvious shrewdness. Unfortunately, the Steeles don't feel the same way - they simply loved the Dashwoods, and think they're going to be BFFs. Sir John joins the side of the Miss Steeles, and insist that the young ladies all hang out together. The Miss Steeles join in the Middleton family pastime of teasing Elinor and Marianne about their suitors. It's not a welcome addition. Sir John lets slip the name of Elinor's supposed "beau" - Ferrars. It turns out Lucy and Anne know him through their uncle. She wonders what exactly they know about him.


Marianne, who had never much toleration for any thing like
impertinence, vulgarity, inferiority of parts, or even difference of
taste from herself, was at this time particularly ill-disposed, from
the state of her spirits, to be pleased with the Miss Steeles, or to
encourage their advances; and to the invariable coldness of her
behaviour towards them, which checked every endeavour at intimacy on
their side, Elinor principally attributed that preference of herself
which soon became evident in the manners of both, but especially of
Lucy, who missed no opportunity of engaging her in conversation, or of
striving to improve their acquaintance by an easy and frank
communication of her sentiments.

Lucy was naturally clever; her remarks were often just and amusing; and
as a companion for half an hour Elinor frequently found her agreeable;
but her powers had received no aid from education: she was ignorant and
illiterate; and her deficiency of all mental improvement, her want of
information in the most common particulars, could not be concealed from
Miss Dashwood, in spite of her constant endeavour to appear to
advantage.  Elinor saw, and pitied her for, the neglect of abilities
which education might have rendered so respectable; but she saw, with
less tenderness of feeling, the thorough want of delicacy, of
rectitude, and integrity of mind, which her attentions, her
assiduities, her flatteries at the Park betrayed; and she could have no
lasting satisfaction in the company of a person who joined insincerity
with ignorance; whose want of instruction prevented their meeting in
conversation on terms of equality, and whose conduct toward others made
every shew of attention and deference towards herself perfectly
valueless.

"You will think my question an odd one, I dare say," said Lucy to her
one day, as they were walking together from the park to the
cottage--"but pray, are you personally acquainted with your
sister-in-law's mother, Mrs. Ferrars?"

Elinor DID think the question a very odd one, and her countenance
expressed it, as she answered that she had never seen Mrs. Ferrars.

"Indeed!" replied Lucy; "I wonder at that, for I thought you must have
seen her at Norland sometimes.  Then, perhaps, you cannot tell me what
sort of a woman she is?"

"No," returned Elinor, cautious of giving her real opinion of Edward's
mother, and not very desirous of satisfying what seemed impertinent
curiosity-- "I know nothing of her."

"I am sure you think me very strange, for enquiring about her in such a
way," said Lucy, eyeing Elinor attentively as she spoke; "but perhaps
there may be reasons--I wish I might venture; but however I hope you
will do me the justice of believing that I do not mean to be
impertinent."

Elinor made her a civil reply, and they walked on for a few minutes in
silence.  It was broken by Lucy, who renewed the subject again by
saying, with some hesitation,

"I cannot bear to have you think me impertinently curious.  I am sure I
would rather do any thing in the world than be thought so by a person
whose good opinion is so well worth having as yours.  And I am sure I
should not have the smallest fear of trusting YOU; indeed, I should be
very glad of your advice how to manage in such an uncomfortable
situation as I am; but, however, there is no occasion to trouble YOU.
I am sorry you do not happen to know Mrs. Ferrars."

"I am sorry I do NOT," said Elinor, in great astonishment, "if it could
be of any use to YOU to know my opinion of her.  But really I never
understood that you were at all connected with that family, and
therefore I am a little surprised, I confess, at so serious an inquiry
into her character."

"I dare say you are, and I am sure I do not at all wonder at it.  But
if I dared tell you all, you would not be so much surprised.  Mrs.
Ferrars is certainly nothing to me at present--but the time MAY
come--how soon it will come must depend upon herself--when we may be
very intimately connected."

She looked down as she said this, amiably bashful, with only one side
glance at her companion to observe its effect on her.

"Good heavens!" cried Elinor, "what do you mean?  Are you acquainted
with Mr. Robert Ferrars?  Can you be?" And she did not feel much
delighted with the idea of such a sister-in-law.

"No," replied Lucy, "not to Mr. ROBERT Ferrars--I never saw him in my
life; but," fixing her eyes upon Elinor, "to his eldest brother."

What felt Elinor at that moment? Astonishment, that would have been as
painful as it was strong, had not an immediate disbelief of the
assertion attended it.  She turned towards Lucy in silent amazement,
unable to divine the reason or object of such a declaration; and though
her complexion varied, she stood firm in incredulity, and felt in no
danger of an hysterical fit, or a swoon.

"You may well be surprised," continued Lucy; "for to be sure you could
have had no idea of it before; for I dare say he never dropped the
smallest hint of it to you or any of your family; because it was always
meant to be a great secret, and I am sure has been faithfully kept so
by me to this hour.  Not a soul of all my relations know of it but
Anne, and I never should have mentioned it to you, if I had not felt
the greatest dependence in the world upon your secrecy; and I really
thought my behaviour in asking so many questions about Mrs. Ferrars
must seem so odd, that it ought to be explained.  And I do not think
Mr. Ferrars can be displeased, when he knows I have trusted you,
because I know he has the highest opinion in the world of all your
family, and looks upon yourself and the other Miss Dashwoods quite as
his own sisters."--She paused.

Elinor for a few moments remained silent.  Her astonishment at what she
heard was at first too great for words; but at length forcing herself
to speak, and to speak cautiously, she said, with calmness of manner,
which tolerably well concealed her surprise and solicitude-- "May I ask
if your engagement is of long standing?"

"We have been engaged these four years."

"Four years!"

"Yes."

Elinor, though greatly shocked, still felt unable to believe it.

"I did not know," said she, "that you were even acquainted till the
other day."

"Our acquaintance, however, is of many years date.  He was under my
uncle's care, you know, a considerable while."

"Your uncle!"

"Yes; Mr. Pratt.  Did you never hear him talk of Mr. Pratt?"

"I think I have," replied Elinor, with an exertion of spirits, which
increased with her increase of emotion.

"He was four years with my uncle, who lives at Longstaple, near
Plymouth.  It was there our acquaintance begun, for my sister and me
was often staying with my uncle, and it was there our engagement was
formed, though not till a year after he had quitted as a pupil; but he
was almost always with us afterwards.  I was very unwilling to enter
into it, as you may imagine, without the knowledge and approbation of
his mother; but I was too young, and loved him too well, to be so
prudent as I ought to have been.-- Though you do not know him so well
as me, Miss Dashwood, you must have seen enough of him to be sensible
he is very capable of making a woman sincerely attached to him."

"Certainly," answered Elinor, without knowing what she said; but after
a moment's reflection, she added, with revived security of Edward's
honour and love, and her companion's falsehood--"Engaged to Mr. Edward
Ferrars!--I confess myself so totally surprised at what you tell me,
that really--I beg your pardon; but surely there must be some mistake
of person or name.  We cannot mean the same Mr. Ferrars."

"We can mean no other," cried Lucy, smiling.  "Mr. Edward Ferrars, the
eldest son of Mrs. Ferrars, of Park Street, and brother of your
sister-in-law, Mrs. John Dashwood, is the person I mean; you must allow
that I am not likely to be deceived as to the name of the man on who
all my happiness depends."

"It is strange," replied Elinor, in a most painful perplexity, "that I
should never have heard him even mention your name."

"No; considering our situation, it was not strange.  Our first care has
been to keep the matter secret.-- You knew nothing of me, or my family,
and, therefore, there could be no OCCASION for ever mentioning my name
to you; and, as he was always particularly afraid of his sister's
suspecting any thing, THAT was reason enough for his not mentioning it."

She was silent.--Elinor's security sunk; but her self-command did not
sink with it.

"Four years you have been engaged," said she with a firm voice.

"Yes; and heaven knows how much longer we may have to wait.  Poor
Edward!  It puts him quite out of heart." Then taking a small miniature
from her pocket, she added, "To prevent the possibility of mistake, be
so good as to look at this face.  It does not do him justice, to be
sure, but yet I think you cannot be deceived as to the person it was
drew for.--I have had it above these three years."

She put it into her hands as she spoke; and when Elinor saw the
painting, whatever other doubts her fear of a too hasty decision, or
her wish of detecting falsehood might suffer to linger in her mind, she
could have none of its being Edward's face.  She returned it almost
instantly, acknowledging the likeness.

"I have never been able," continued Lucy, "to give him my picture in
return, which I am very much vexed at, for he has been always so
anxious to get it!  But I am determined to set for it the very first
opportunity."

"You are quite in the right," replied Elinor calmly.  They then
proceeded a few paces in silence.  Lucy spoke first.

"I am sure," said she, "I have no doubt in the world of your faithfully
keeping this secret, because you must know of what importance it is to
us, not to have it reach his mother; for she would never approve of it,
I dare say.  I shall have no fortune, and I fancy she is an exceeding
proud woman."

"I certainly did not seek your confidence," said Elinor; "but you do me
no more than justice in imagining that I may be depended on.  Your
secret is safe with me; but pardon me if I express some surprise at so
unnecessary a communication.  You must at least have felt that my being
acquainted with it could not add to its safety."

As she said this, she looked earnestly at Lucy, hoping to discover
something in her countenance; perhaps the falsehood of the greatest
part of what she had been saying; but Lucy's countenance suffered no
change.

"I was afraid you would think I was taking a great liberty with you,"
said she, "in telling you all this.  I have not known you long to be
sure, personally at least, but I have known you and all your family by
description a great while; and as soon as I saw you, I felt almost as
if you was an old acquaintance.  Besides in the present case, I really
thought some explanation was due to you after my making such particular
inquiries about Edward's mother; and I am so unfortunate, that I have
not a creature whose advice I can ask.  Anne is the only person that
knows of it, and she has no judgment at all; indeed, she does me a
great deal more harm than good, for I am in constant fear of her
betraying me.  She does not know how to hold her tongue, as you must
perceive, and I am sure I was in the greatest fright in the world
t'other day, when Edward's name was mentioned by Sir John, lest she
should out with it all.  You can't think how much I go through in my
mind from it altogether.  I only wonder that I am alive after what I
have suffered for Edward's sake these last four years.  Every thing in
such suspense and uncertainty; and seeing him so seldom--we can hardly
meet above twice a-year.  I am sure I wonder my heart is not quite
broke."

Here she took out her handkerchief; but Elinor did not feel very
compassionate.

"Sometimes." continued Lucy, after wiping her eyes, "I think whether it
would not be better for us both to break off the matter entirely."  As
she said this, she looked directly at her companion.  "But then at
other times I have not resolution enough for it.-- I cannot bear the
thoughts of making him so miserable, as I know the very mention of such
a thing would do.  And on my own account too--so dear as he is to me--I
don't think I could be equal to it.  What would you advise me to do in
such a case, Miss Dashwood?  What would you do yourself?"

"Pardon me," replied Elinor, startled by the question; "but I can give
you no advice under such circumstances.  Your own judgment must direct
you."

"To be sure," continued Lucy, after a few minutes silence on both
sides, "his mother must provide for him sometime or other; but poor
Edward is so cast down by it!  Did you not think him dreadful
low-spirited when he was at Barton?  He was so miserable when he left
us at Longstaple, to go to you, that I was afraid you would think him
quite ill."

"Did he come from your uncle's, then, when he visited us?"

"Oh, yes; he had been staying a fortnight with us.  Did you think he
came directly from town?"

"No," replied Elinor, most feelingly sensible of every fresh
circumstance in favour of Lucy's veracity; "I remember he told us, that
he had been staying a fortnight with some friends near Plymouth." She
remembered too, her own surprise at the time, at his mentioning nothing
farther of those friends, at his total silence with respect even to
their names.

"Did not you think him sadly out of spirits?" repeated Lucy.

"We did, indeed, particularly so when he first arrived."

"I begged him to exert himself for fear you should suspect what was the
matter; but it made him so melancholy, not being able to stay more than
a fortnight with us, and seeing me so much affected.-- Poor fellow!--I
am afraid it is just the same with him now; for he writes in wretched
spirits.  I heard from him just before I left Exeter;" taking a letter
from her pocket and carelessly showing the direction to Elinor.  "You
know his hand, I dare say, a charming one it is; but that is not
written so well as usual.--He was tired, I dare say, for he had just
filled the sheet to me as full as possible."

Elinor saw that it WAS his hand, and she could doubt no longer.  This
picture, she had allowed herself to believe, might have been
accidentally obtained; it might not have been Edward's gift; but a
correspondence between them by letter, could subsist only under a
positive engagement, could be authorised by nothing else; for a few
moments, she was almost overcome--her heart sunk within her, and she
could hardly stand; but exertion was indispensably necessary; and she
struggled so resolutely against the oppression of her feelings, that
her success was speedy, and for the time complete.

"Writing to each other," said Lucy, returning the letter into her
pocket, "is the only comfort we have in such long separations.  Yes, I
have one other comfort in his picture, but poor Edward has not even
THAT.  If he had but my picture, he says he should be easy.  I gave him
a lock of my hair set in a ring when he was at Longstaple last, and
that was some comfort to him, he said, but not equal to a picture.
Perhaps you might notice the ring when you saw him?"

"I did," said Elinor, with a composure of voice, under which was
concealed an emotion and distress beyond any thing she had ever felt
before.  She was mortified, shocked, confounded.

Fortunately for her, they had now reached the cottage, and the
conversation could be continued no farther.  After sitting with them a
few minutes, the Miss Steeles returned to the Park, and Elinor was then
at liberty to think and be wretched.

[At this point in the first and second editions, Volume 1 ends.]

Marianne cannot stand the Miss Steeles and is cold toward them out of ill-spirits and dislike, so Elinor becomes the preferred companion of Lucy. Elinor thinks Lucy decent company, though she lacks education and refinement, has an insincere tendency to flatter people. Lucy inquires of Mrs. Ferrars, which strikes Elinor as odd; Elinor asks of her acquaintance with the Ferrars family, and Lucy reveals that she is engaged to Edward. The engagement, though, is a secret to all but Lucy's sister and now Elinor; Elinor questions Lucy to try and prove that this is not true, but it turns out that it was Lucy that Edward had visited in Plymouth before his arrival at Barton, and Lucy says she gave him a ring with a lock of hair, which Elinor and Marianne had noticed him wearing. Elinor is overcome by grief at this discovery, but she must keep this knowledge a secret, and hide her great disappointment as best she can.

Disappointment hits Elinor just as hard as it had with Marianne; her expectations, once again a theme in the story, are immediately dashed. The secret symbolized by Edward's ring is finally revealed, though Elinor, unlike Marianne, has not the luxury of expressing her grief on this occasion. Elinor's complete oppression of her feelings here shows her to be as opposite to Marianne as she can be; the juxtaposition between Marianne's indulgent grief and Elinor's complete restraint shows that both feel disappointment keenly, but are driven to react in very different ways. Austen's diction upon conveying Elinor's disappointment is as keen and sharp as Elinor's own feelings; she is "mortified, shocked, confounded" by Lucy's confession, and is so affected that she "can hardly stand

Marianne has had it with the busybody Miss Steeles, so it's up to Elinor to keep them entertained. Lucy is naturally pretty gifted - along with being very pretty, she's also smart and witty. However, she's not very educated or well-read, and Elinor finds her something of a boring companion. One day, as Elinor and Lucy walk from the park to Barton Cottage, Lucy asks about Mrs. Ferrars, Fanny and Edward's mother. Elinor is a little weirded out by this question, understandably. Lucy presses the issue - she says she doesn't want to be impertinent, but she's really, really curious about Mrs. Ferrars, for some odd reason. Elinor is taken aback, and says so. Lucy hints that someday she and Mrs. Ferrars might be intimately related, and that she's curious because of this prospect. Elinor is totally shocked now. She asks if perhaps Lucy is engaged to Robert Ferrars, the youngest brother - and worries that someday the two of them might be related . Lucy admits that she's not engaged to Robert Ferrars - but is instead engaged to his older brother! What the what? Lucy engaged to Edward? What kind of merciless alternate universe have we stumbled into? Lucy goes on placidly, seemingly unaware of her companion's utter shock and horror. First of all, she rather insultingly says that Edward looks upon Elinor and Marianne as his own sisters . Secondly, she demurely admits that they've been secretly engaged for four years. We're appalled. So is Elinor. Apparently, Lucy and Edward met when he was living and studying with Mr. Pratt, Lucy and Anne's uncle. They met when they were young and impressionable, fell in love , and now are engaged. Elinor feebly protests that this can't be the same Edward Ferrars - perhaps Lucy is mistaken? Nope, it's definitely him. Definitely, definitely, definitely the Edward of Elinor's secret desires. Lucy even goes so far as to show Elinor a little portrait of Edward that she carries around, proving once and for all that this is the same guy. Elinor responds rather coldly to Lucy's revelation , saying that their secret is safe with her, but she can't understand why she was the recipient of it in the first place. Lucy angelically claims that she trusts Elinor instinctively, and that she feels like they've known each other for a long time. Apparently, the only other person who knows is Anne, Lucy's sister. Lucy weeps a little, whining that she and Edward only get to see each other once or twice a year. Elinor is not sympathetic. Lucy wonders if she should stick with Edward, or if she should just call the whole thing off. She looks pointedly at Elinor as she muses upon this - how much does Lucy know about Edward and Elinor's relationship, really? How shrewd is she, exactly?! Lucy asks Elinor what she should do - and obviously, Elinor doesn't have a reply. Lucy goes on, asking if Edward was down in the dumps when he was visiting the Dashwoods at Barton . Elinor admits that he was a little sad in the beginning of his visit. As if we haven't had enough proof of Edward's situation yet, Lucy shows Elinor a letter from him, which is undoubtedly in his handwriting. Lucy puts the final nail in the coffin of Elinor's hopes, saying that the ring Edward wears is set with a lock of her hair - not, as Elinor and Marianne believed, with Elinor's. Ouch. Fortunately, the girls arrive back at the cottage, and end their conversation. The Steeles go back home, and Elinor is left alone with her miserable thoughts.

As Marianne refused any intimacy with the Misses Steele, they turned to Elinor. Lucy, especially, sought her out, and Elinor frequently found her clever and agreeable, but she also found her "ignorant and illiterate" through lack of education, and wanting in "delicacy, . . . rectitude, and integrity of mind." One day while walking with Elinor, Lucy persisted in asking her opinion of Mrs. Ferrars, Edward's mother. She hinted that she would soon be "very intimately connected" with the family, and to Elinor's amazement, she confided that she had been secretly engaged to Edward for four years: "He was four years with my uncle, who lives at Longstaple, near Plymouth. It was there our acquaintance begun." She showed Elinor a miniature of Edward which she carried in her pocket and spoke of the sufferings she had endured on his behalf: "Everything in such suspense and uncertainty, and seeing him so seldom." Elinor desperately hoped that Lucy was lying, but all hope vanished when Lucy showed her a letter from Edward and told her that she had given him a lock of her hair, set in a ring.

Ironically, the vulgar Lucy becomes Elinor's rival. She is forced to listen to Lucy's confidences about him and is abashed to realize that the lock of hair in Edward's ring, which she fondly believed to be her own, is in reality Lucy's. Note how often Austen uses letters to give a turn to the plot. In an earlier chapter, Colonel Brandon "changes colour" and leaves mysteriously when he receives a letter. In this chapter, Lucy shows Elinor a letter which convinces her that Lucy is speaking the truth about her engagement to Edward.

The Dashwood girls visit the Middletons at the Park. Mrs. Palmer comes forward to welcome them and regretfully informs them about their early departure. She invites Elinor and Marianne to Cleveland. She dominates the conversation by imparting information about Willoughby and Colonel Brandon. She also talks about her husband and his profession.

Notes The chapter is devoted to the Palmers. Mrs. and Mr. Palmer make interesting cases for a character study. Mrs. Palmer enjoys indulging in gossip and gives exaggerated accounts about people. She tries her best to please her friends. Mr. Palmer is frank, factual and down-to-earth. He often cautions his wife when she makes inconsiderate remarks or rash statements. Mrs. Palmer is frivolous and lacks insight. Since her husband is intelligent and shrewd, he is intolerant of her views. Mr. Palmer appears rude, but Elinor considers him rather agreeable. CHAPTER 21 Summary One more pair of guests arrives after the departure of the Palmers. On their trip to Exeter, John Middleton and Mrs. Jennings meet the Steele sisters and invite them to Barton Park. The Misses Steele  eventually arrive at the Park. Sir John invites the Dashwoods to the Park to get acquainted with the Steele sisters. The Misses Dashwood meet the Steele sisters and are unimpressed. The girls are pleasant looking and smart, but they lack refinement. However, they please Lady Middleton because they pay attention to her children. During the course of their conversation with the Dashwoods, the Steele sisters mention their acquaintance with Edward Ferrars. This piece of information stirs Elinor's curiosity. Notes This chapter illustrates Jane Austen's subtle use of satire. Sir John Middleton is an amusing character, as shown by his talk and behavior. As soon as he meets the Steele sisters at Exeter, he invites them to Barton Park to spend a few days. However, Lady Middleton shows apprehension at having the Steele girls as their guests. But she is unable to stop the girls from coming to Barton, as they have already accepted the invitation of Sir John. Hence she contents herself "with merely giving her husband a gentle reprimand on the subject five or six times everyday." This sentence illustrates Austen's ability to use understatement to her advantage. Another humorous instance occurs when John Middleton persuades the Dashwood sisters to accompany him to the Park in order to meet the Steeles. It is reported in this manner: "Sir John wanted the whole family to walk to the Park directly and look at the guests. Benevolent, philanthropic man! It was painful to him even to keep a third cousin to himself." The passage adequately demonstrates Austen's ironic humor. The manner in which Sir John persuades the Dashwood sisters to come to the Park is hilarious. His logic is amusing, "'Do come, now,' said he--'pray come--you must come--I declare you shall come.--You can't think how you will like them. Lucy is monstrous pretty, and so good-humored and agreeable!---They have brought the whole coach full of playthings for the children. How can you be so cross as not to come! Why, they are your cousins, you know, after a fashion. You are my cousins, and they are my wife's, so you must be related." Through repetition and exaggerated remarks, he finally persuades the sisters to visit the Park to meet his guests. The Steele sisters are a perfect foil to Elinor and Marianne. They are crude, vulgar and frivolous. Elinor and Marianne find it tedious to converse with them. They have no wish to renew their acquaintance with them. CHAPTER 22 Summary One day while walking from the Park to the cottage, Lucy confides in Elinor about her secret engagement with Edward Ferrars. Edward had stayed with her uncle four years ago, and it was at that time that the two had become intimate. To prove her point, Lucy displays Edward's picture in her locket and a letter he wrote to her. She also informs Elinor that Edward had spent some time with them before proceeding to Barton. Lucy's revelations naturally come as an absolute shock to Elinor. Notes Chapter 22 reveals something important about Edward Ferrars' past. Before Edward had met Elinor, he had been friendly with Lucy Steele and had become engaged to her. It is Lucy's hair that he wears in his ring. Elinor is distressed on hearing Lucy's secret. She is fond of Edward and had believed that he returned her affection. However, she did see a look of concern in his eyes during his recent trip to Barton. At that time he was moody and out of spirits. Lucy's revelation reveals the cause behind Edward's melancholy. It is ironic that Lucy should choose to tell her secret to Elinor, the girl who loves Edward. It makes the reader wonder if Lucy has knowledge of Edward's affection for Elinor. Lucy not only reveals her relationship with Edward to her confidante, but she also asks her for her advice to tackle this precarious situation. Elinor is stunned to hear the news. She fails to comprehend how Edward could have loved a girl who is so lacking in taste and refinement.


However small Elinor's general dependence on Lucy's veracity might be,
it was impossible for her on serious reflection to suspect it in the
present case, where no temptation could be answerable to the folly of
inventing a falsehood of such a description.  What Lucy had asserted to
be true, therefore, Elinor could not, dared not longer doubt; supported
as it was too on every side by such probabilities and proofs, and
contradicted by nothing but her own wishes.  Their opportunity of
acquaintance in the house of Mr. Pratt was a foundation for the rest,
at once indisputable and alarming; and Edward's visit near Plymouth,
his melancholy state of mind, his dissatisfaction at his own prospects,
his uncertain behaviour towards herself, the intimate knowledge of the
Miss Steeles as to Norland and their family connections, which had
often surprised her, the picture, the letter, the ring, formed
altogether such a body of evidence, as overcame every fear of
condemning him unfairly, and established as a fact, which no partiality
could set aside, his ill-treatment of herself.--Her resentment of such
behaviour, her indignation at having been its dupe, for a short time
made her feel only for herself; but other ideas, other considerations,
soon arose.  Had Edward been intentionally deceiving her?  Had he
feigned a regard for her which he did not feel?  Was his engagement to
Lucy an engagement of the heart?  No; whatever it might once have been,
she could not believe it such at present.  His affection was all her
own.  She could not be deceived in that.  Her mother, sisters, Fanny,
all had been conscious of his regard for her at Norland; it was not an
illusion of her own vanity.  He certainly loved her.  What a softener
of the heart was this persuasion!  How much could it not tempt her to
forgive!  He had been blamable, highly blamable, in remaining at
Norland after he first felt her influence over him to be more than it
ought to be.  In that, he could not be defended; but if he had injured
her, how much more had he injured himself; if her case were pitiable,
his was hopeless.  His imprudence had made her miserable for a while;
but it seemed to have deprived himself of all chance of ever being
otherwise.  She might in time regain tranquillity; but HE, what had he
to look forward to?  Could he ever be tolerably happy with Lucy Steele;
could he, were his affection for herself out of the question, with his
integrity, his delicacy, and well-informed mind, be satisfied with a
wife like her--illiterate, artful, and selfish?

The youthful infatuation of nineteen would naturally blind him to every
thing but her beauty and good nature; but the four succeeding
years--years, which if rationally spent, give such improvement to the
understanding, must have opened his eyes to her defects of education,
while the same period of time, spent on her side in inferior society
and more frivolous pursuits, had perhaps robbed her of that simplicity
which might once have given an interesting character to her beauty.

If in the supposition of his seeking to marry herself, his difficulties
from his mother had seemed great, how much greater were they now likely
to be, when the object of his engagement was undoubtedly inferior in
connections, and probably inferior in fortune to herself.  These
difficulties, indeed, with a heart so alienated from Lucy, might not
press very hard upon his patience; but melancholy was the state of the
person by whom the expectation of family opposition and unkindness,
could be felt as a relief!

As these considerations occurred to her in painful succession, she wept
for him, more than for herself.  Supported by the conviction of having
done nothing to merit her present unhappiness, and consoled by the
belief that Edward had done nothing to forfeit her esteem, she thought
she could even now, under the first smart of the heavy blow, command
herself enough to guard every suspicion of the truth from her mother
and sisters.  And so well was she able to answer her own expectations,
that when she joined them at dinner only two hours after she had first
suffered the extinction of all her dearest hopes, no one would have
supposed from the appearance of the sisters, that Elinor was mourning
in secret over obstacles which must divide her for ever from the object
of her love, and that Marianne was internally dwelling on the
perfections of a man, of whose whole heart she felt thoroughly
possessed, and whom she expected to see in every carriage which drove
near their house.

The necessity of concealing from her mother and Marianne, what had been
entrusted in confidence to herself, though it obliged her to unceasing
exertion, was no aggravation of Elinor's distress.  On the contrary it
was a relief to her, to be spared the communication of what would give
such affliction to them, and to be saved likewise from hearing that
condemnation of Edward, which would probably flow from the excess of
their partial affection for herself, and which was more than she felt
equal to support.

From their counsel, or their conversation, she knew she could receive
no assistance, their tenderness and sorrow must add to her distress,
while her self-command would neither receive encouragement from their
example nor from their praise.  She was stronger alone, and her own
good sense so well supported her, that her firmness was as unshaken,
her appearance of cheerfulness as invariable, as with regrets so
poignant and so fresh, it was possible for them to be.

Much as she had suffered from her first conversation with Lucy on the
subject, she soon felt an earnest wish of renewing it; and this for
more reasons than one.  She wanted to hear many particulars of their
engagement repeated again, she wanted more clearly to understand what
Lucy really felt for Edward, whether there were any sincerity in her
declaration of tender regard for him, and she particularly wanted to
convince Lucy, by her readiness to enter on the matter again, and her
calmness in conversing on it, that she was no otherwise interested in
it than as a friend, which she very much feared her involuntary
agitation, in their morning discourse, must have left at least
doubtful.  That Lucy was disposed to be jealous of her appeared very
probable: it was plain that Edward had always spoken highly in her
praise, not merely from Lucy's assertion, but from her venturing to
trust her on so short a personal acquaintance, with a secret so
confessedly and evidently important.  And even Sir John's joking
intelligence must have had some weight.  But indeed, while Elinor
remained so well assured within herself of being really beloved by
Edward, it required no other consideration of probabilities to make it
natural that Lucy should be jealous; and that she was so, her very
confidence was a proof.  What other reason for the disclosure of the
affair could there be, but that Elinor might be informed by it of
Lucy's superior claims on Edward, and be taught to avoid him in future?
She had little difficulty in understanding thus much of her rival's
intentions, and while she was firmly resolved to act by her as every
principle of honour and honesty directed, to combat her own affection
for Edward and to see him as little as possible; she could not deny
herself the comfort of endeavouring to convince Lucy that her heart was
unwounded.  And as she could now have nothing more painful to hear on
the subject than had already been told, she did not mistrust her own
ability of going through a repetition of particulars with composure.

But it was not immediately that an opportunity of doing so could be
commanded, though Lucy was as well disposed as herself to take
advantage of any that occurred; for the weather was not often fine
enough to allow of their joining in a walk, where they might most
easily separate themselves from the others; and though they met at
least every other evening either at the park or cottage, and chiefly at
the former, they could not be supposed to meet for the sake of
conversation.  Such a thought would never enter either Sir John or Lady
Middleton's head; and therefore very little leisure was ever given for
a general chat, and none at all for particular discourse.  They met for
the sake of eating, drinking, and laughing together, playing at cards,
or consequences, or any other game that was sufficiently noisy.

One or two meetings of this kind had taken place, without affording
Elinor any chance of engaging Lucy in private, when Sir John called at
the cottage one morning, to beg, in the name of charity, that they
would all dine with Lady Middleton that day, as he was obliged to
attend the club at Exeter, and she would otherwise be quite alone,
except her mother and the two Miss Steeles.  Elinor, who foresaw a
fairer opening for the point she had in view, in such a party as this
was likely to be, more at liberty among themselves under the tranquil
and well-bred direction of Lady Middleton than when her husband united
them together in one noisy purpose, immediately accepted the
invitation; Margaret, with her mother's permission, was equally
compliant, and Marianne, though always unwilling to join any of their
parties, was persuaded by her mother, who could not bear to have her
seclude herself from any chance of amusement, to go likewise.

The young ladies went, and Lady Middleton was happily preserved from
the frightful solitude which had threatened her.  The insipidity of the
meeting was exactly such as Elinor had expected; it produced not one
novelty of thought or expression, and nothing could be less interesting
than the whole of their discourse both in the dining parlour and
drawing room: to the latter, the children accompanied them, and while
they remained there, she was too well convinced of the impossibility of
engaging Lucy's attention to attempt it.  They quitted it only with the
removal of the tea-things.  The card-table was then placed, and Elinor
began to wonder at herself for having ever entertained a hope of
finding time for conversation at the park.  They all rose up in
preparation for a round game.

"I am glad," said Lady Middleton to Lucy, "you are not going to finish
poor little Annamaria's basket this evening; for I am sure it must hurt
your eyes to work filigree by candlelight.  And we will make the dear
little love some amends for her disappointment to-morrow, and then I
hope she will not much mind it."

This hint was enough, Lucy recollected herself instantly and replied,
"Indeed you are very much mistaken, Lady Middleton; I am only waiting
to know whether you can make your party without me, or I should have
been at my filigree already.  I would not disappoint the little angel
for all the world: and if you want me at the card-table now, I am
resolved to finish the basket after supper."

"You are very good, I hope it won't hurt your eyes--will you ring the
bell for some working candles?  My poor little girl would be sadly
disappointed, I know, if the basket was not finished tomorrow, for
though I told her it certainly would not, I am sure she depends upon
having it done."

Lucy directly drew her work table near her and reseated herself with an
alacrity and cheerfulness which seemed to infer that she could taste no
greater delight than in making a filigree basket for a spoilt child.

Lady Middleton proposed a rubber of Casino to the others.  No one made
any objection but Marianne, who with her usual inattention to the forms
of general civility, exclaimed, "Your Ladyship will have the goodness
to excuse ME--you know I detest cards.  I shall go to the piano-forte;
I have not touched it since it was tuned."  And without farther
ceremony, she turned away and walked to the instrument.

Lady Middleton looked as if she thanked heaven that SHE had never made
so rude a speech.

"Marianne can never keep long from that instrument you know, ma'am,"
said Elinor, endeavouring to smooth away the offence; "and I do not
much wonder at it; for it is the very best toned piano-forte I ever
heard."

The remaining five were now to draw their cards.

"Perhaps," continued Elinor, "if I should happen to cut out, I may be
of some use to Miss Lucy Steele, in rolling her papers for her; and
there is so much still to be done to the basket, that it must be
impossible I think for her labour singly, to finish it this evening.  I
should like the work exceedingly, if she would allow me a share in it."

"Indeed I shall be very much obliged to you for your help," cried Lucy,
"for I find there is more to be done to it than I thought there was;
and it would be a shocking thing to disappoint dear Annamaria after
all."

"Oh! that would be terrible, indeed," said Miss Steele-- "Dear little
soul, how I do love her!"

"You are very kind," said Lady Middleton to Elinor; "and as you really
like the work, perhaps you will be as well pleased not to cut in till
another rubber, or will you take your chance now?"

Elinor joyfully profited by the first of these proposals, and thus by a
little of that address which Marianne could never condescend to
practise, gained her own end, and pleased Lady Middleton at the same
time.  Lucy made room for her with ready attention, and the two fair
rivals were thus seated side by side at the same table, and, with the
utmost harmony, engaged in forwarding the same work.  The pianoforte at
which Marianne, wrapped up in her own music and her own thoughts, had
by this time forgotten that any body was in the room besides herself,
was luckily so near them that Miss Dashwood now judged she might
safely, under the shelter of its noise, introduce the interesting
subject, without any risk of being heard at the card-table.

Elinor does not have the luxury of doubting the truth of Lucy's confession; yet, she is convinced that Edward loves her, and not Lucy. She feels at first that he wronged her by not being forthright about his engagement; but any anger she feels is softened by her considering his situation. Although she is only temporarily disappointed, he will have to marry Lucy; and any affection he once had for her has probably been quenched by the four-year engagement, and Lucy being selfish, unpolished, and uneducated. Elinor does not doubt that her defects have probably become painfully obvious to him, and that he will have even more trouble with his family in marrying Lucy than he would have had in marrying Elinor. Elinor decides to speak to Lucy again, to find if her affection is genuine and to assure her that Elinor has no interest in this matter than as a friend. She gets the opportunity at Barton Park, when they are invited to supper while Sir John is away. She helps Lucy work on a basket for one of Lady Middleton's children, while Marianne's piano playing assures that they will not be overheard.

Again, Elinor is shown to be the rational foil of Marianne; instead of dwelling on her own miseries, she immediately considers what Edward's might be, and is sorry for him. Elinor is very mature in her lack of selfishness, and her ability to understand what the predicaments of others might be; it is this great understanding which helps Elinor to deal more fairly with others than her mother or sisters are able to. But, Marianne too seems to have gained more sense through her disappointments; Austen remarks that she, like Elinor, does not appear to be forlorn, as she too has begun to internalize rather than externalize her feelings. Jealousy becomes apparent as a theme, and as a motive of Lucy's behavior; indeed, Elinor's discovery that Lucy must have confided in her in order to assert her claims to Edward does not reflect well on Lucy. However, any rivalry that might exist between them is dampened by Elinor's unfailing civility, and her successful attempts to reassure Lucy that she and Edward are merely friends

Elinor, sadly, has no grounds for doubt left...it's definitely Edward that Lucy Steele is engaged to. Her feelings are all over the place - has Edward deceived her? Does he really care for Lucy at all? After all, everyone else is also sure that Edward loves Elinor - so what's going on, anyway? Elinor also feels bad for Edward; after all, he's the one who going to be stuck with uneducated, shrewd Lucy Steele. Even if he was infatuated with her as a teenager, what must he think now? Furthermore, what's going to happen when they've been married for years and years? Also, there's the problem of Edward's snobby mom, who'll surely have a conniption fit when she finds out that he's engaged to Lucy, who's inferior to Elinor in social station. All things considered, Elinor feels worse for Edward than for herself. She resolves to keep her troubles from Marianne and Mrs. Dashwood, figuring that they can't possibly help her with any of this. Elinor resolves to talk more to Lucy about this whole thing. She wants to see how much Lucy actually cares for Edward. Elinor also has a sneaking suspicion that Lucy might be jealous of her, given how much Edward praises her, as well as Sir John's jokes about how she and Edward are in love. Unfortunately, there are very few chances to talk privately with Lucy, since Sir John and Lady Middleton keep everyone busy with dinners, games, and group activities. One day, though, Lady Middleton invites all of the young ladies over to keep her company at dinner while Sir John hangs out with his guy friends. It turns out to be quite a dull gathering, but Elinor hopes to find a chance to talk to Lucy alone. Lucy, taking a hint from Lady Middleton, says she's going to work on a basket she's making for Annamaria, while everyone else plays cards. Elinor takes this opportunity to also opt out of the card game, saying that she'll go help Lucy with her task. Lucy and Elinor settle down to work near the piano, so nobody else will hear their conversation.

Elinor is troubled by Lucy's confession. Although she is inclined to believe the truth of Lucy's statements, she is not sure about Edward's feelings in the matter. So she decides to talk to Lucy again on the subject. She gets the opportunity to do so when she visits the Park on the invitation of John Middleton. While Lady Middleton sits down to play Casino with the others and Marianne plays the piano, Elinor helps Lucy to make a basket for Annamaria.

Notes Elinor is as composed as she is sensible. After hearing about the engagement of Lucy and Edward, she neither breaks down nor indulges in brooding. She ponders over the truth of Lucy's statements and tries to analyze Edward's emotions towards Lucy. She does not condemn Edward for his actions. She tries to connect the sequence of events leading to their engagement. She tries to remember Edward's state of mind when she met him at Norland. She decides to talk to Lucy again before passing judgment. At home, Elinor behaves normally. She is in admirable control of her emotions. She thus spares her mother and sisters from the anxiety that would naturally result from such a disclosure. She realizes the futility of seeking advice or conversing with them on the subject. She feels that "she was stronger alone, and her own good sense so well supported her, that her firmness was as unshaken, her appearance of cheerfulness as invariable, as with regrets so poignant and so fresh, it was possible for them to be." Indisputably, then, she is a paragon of endurance. CHAPTER 24 Summary At the first opportunity, Elinor brings up the topic of Lucy and Edward. Lucy readily gives information about Edward's insufficient income, which might not be enough for them to settle down. However, she expresses confidence in Edward's love for her. She also voices her desire to have Edward take orders in the Church. To realize her wish, she seeks the help of Elinor to persuade her brother to give the Norland parish to them. She further reveals a plan to visit London later on, in order to meet Edward. Notes Elinor elicits information from Lucy with commendable tact and persuasion. She encourages Lucy to talk about Edward and observes her in order to gauge her actual feelings for Edward. Lucy is pragmatic enough to want Edward to be well-settled before their marriage. She takes the first opportunity to ask Elinor to speak to John Dashwood and recommend a position at Norland for them. Shamelessly, she even hopes for Mrs. Ferrars' demise, so that Edward can get his share of the property. Elinor and Lucy love the same man, but the manner of their love differs greatly. Elinor is selfless in her love for Edward. She blames neither him nor Lucy for the turn of events. She is highly in control of her emotions. Lucy is selfish and insecure about her hold over Edward. She is crude in her manner of expression and displays her emotions openly. Of the two, Elinor undoubtedly deserves Edward. CHAPTER 25 Summary Mrs. Jennings decides to go back to town to occupy her house at Portman Square. She invites the Dashwood sisters to accompany her to London. The sisters decline the invitation at first, as they are reluctant to part with their mother. But when Mrs. Dashwood gives her consent readily, they have no excuse to offer. In fact, Marianne looks forward to the trip, as it will afford her an opportunity to meet Willoughby. Elinor is happy for her sister although she herself is not very enthusiastic about visiting the city. Notes Jane Austen creates the appropriate setting for the heroines to meet with their lover interests. The fate of both Elinor and Marianne will be decided in London. Austen evokes curiosity in the reader's mind about the future of her protagonists. The reaction of the two sisters to Mrs. Jennings' invitation is different. Marianne is too eager to go to London, and hence shows impatience, while Elinor hesitates to make a decision. Marianne is even prepared to tolerate Mrs. Jennings' company in London, as long as she has the opportunity to meet Willoughby. Her reason for going to London is entirely selfish. Elinor characteristically weighs the pros and cons before making a decision. She hesitates to leave for London because she has to part with her mother. Also, she is apprehensive about staying in London with Mrs. Jennings, whose constant company might prove irksome. Left to herself, she neither desires nor dislikes going to London. However, when she becomes aware of Marianne's enthusiasm, she decides to accompany her sister to the city.


In a firm, though cautious tone, Elinor thus began.

"I should be undeserving of the confidence you have honoured me with,
if I felt no desire for its continuance, or no farther curiosity on its
subject.  I will not apologize therefore for bringing it forward again."

"Thank you," cried Lucy warmly, "for breaking the ice; you have set my
heart at ease by it; for I was somehow or other afraid I had offended
you by what I told you that Monday."

"Offended me! How could you suppose so? Believe me," and Elinor spoke
it with the truest sincerity, "nothing could be farther from my
intention than to give you such an idea.  Could you have a motive for
the trust, that was not honourable and flattering to me?"

"And yet I do assure you," replied Lucy, her little sharp eyes full of
meaning, "there seemed to me to be a coldness and displeasure in your
manner that made me quite uncomfortable.  I felt sure that you was
angry with me; and have been quarrelling with myself ever since, for
having took such a liberty as to trouble you with my affairs.  But I am
very glad to find it was only my own fancy, and that you really do not
blame me.  If you knew what a consolation it was to me to relieve my
heart speaking to you of what I am always thinking of every moment of
my life, your compassion would make you overlook every thing else I am
sure."

"Indeed, I can easily believe that it was a very great relief to you,
to acknowledge your situation to me, and be assured that you shall
never have reason to repent it.  Your case is a very unfortunate one;
you seem to me to be surrounded with difficulties, and you will have
need of all your mutual affection to support you under them.  Mr.
Ferrars, I believe, is entirely dependent on his mother."

"He has only two thousand pounds of his own; it would be madness to
marry upon that, though for my own part, I could give up every prospect
of more without a sigh.  I have been always used to a very small
income, and could struggle with any poverty for him; but I love him too
well to be the selfish means of robbing him, perhaps, of all that his
mother might give him if he married to please her.  We must wait, it
may be for many years.  With almost every other man in the world, it
would be an alarming prospect; but Edward's affection and constancy
nothing can deprive me of I know."

"That conviction must be every thing to you; and he is undoubtedly
supported by the same trust in your's.  If the strength of your
reciprocal attachment had failed, as between many people, and under
many circumstances it naturally would during a four years' engagement,
your situation would have been pitiable, indeed."

Lucy here looked up; but Elinor was careful in guarding her countenance
from every expression that could give her words a suspicious tendency.

"Edward's love for me," said Lucy, "has been pretty well put to the
test, by our long, very long absence since we were first engaged, and
it has stood the trial so well, that I should be unpardonable to doubt
it now.  I can safely say that he has never gave me one moment's alarm
on that account from the first."

Elinor hardly knew whether to smile or sigh at this assertion.

Lucy went on.  "I am rather of a jealous temper too by nature, and from
our different situations in life, from his being so much more in the
world than me, and our continual separation, I was enough inclined for
suspicion, to have found out the truth in an instant, if there had been
the slightest alteration in his behaviour to me when we met, or any
lowness of spirits that I could not account for, or if he had talked
more of one lady than another, or seemed in any respect less happy at
Longstaple than he used to be.  I do not mean to say that I am
particularly observant or quick-sighted in general, but in such a case
I am sure I could not be deceived."

"All this," thought Elinor, "is very pretty; but it can impose upon
neither of us."

"But what," said she after a short silence, "are your views? or have
you none but that of waiting for Mrs. Ferrars's death, which is a
melancholy and shocking extremity?--Is her son determined to submit to
this, and to all the tediousness of the many years of suspense in which
it may involve you, rather than run the risk of her displeasure for a
while by owning the truth?"

"If we could be certain that it would be only for a while!  But Mrs.
Ferrars is a very headstrong proud woman, and in her first fit of anger
upon hearing it, would very likely secure every thing to Robert, and
the idea of that, for Edward's sake, frightens away all my inclination
for hasty measures."

"And for your own sake too, or you are carrying your disinterestedness
beyond reason."

Lucy looked at Elinor again, and was silent.

"Do you know Mr. Robert Ferrars?" asked Elinor.

"Not at all--I never saw him; but I fancy he is very unlike his
brother--silly and a great coxcomb."

"A great coxcomb!" repeated Miss Steele, whose ear had caught those
words by a sudden pause in Marianne's music.-- "Oh, they are talking of
their favourite beaux, I dare say."

"No sister," cried Lucy, "you are mistaken there, our favourite beaux
are NOT great coxcombs."

"I can answer for it that Miss Dashwood's is not," said Mrs. Jennings,
laughing heartily; "for he is one of the modestest, prettiest behaved
young men I ever saw; but as for Lucy, she is such a sly little
creature, there is no finding out who SHE likes."

"Oh," cried Miss Steele, looking significantly round at them, "I dare
say Lucy's beau is quite as modest and pretty behaved as Miss
Dashwood's."

Elinor blushed in spite of herself.  Lucy bit her lip, and looked
angrily at her sister.  A mutual silence took place for some time.
Lucy first put an end to it by saying in a lower tone, though Marianne
was then giving them the powerful protection of a very magnificent
concerto--

"I will honestly tell you of one scheme which has lately come into my
head, for bringing matters to bear; indeed I am bound to let you into
the secret, for you are a party concerned.  I dare say you have seen
enough of Edward to know that he would prefer the church to every other
profession; now my plan is that he should take orders as soon as he
can, and then through your interest, which I am sure you would be kind
enough to use out of friendship for him, and I hope out of some regard
to me, your brother might be persuaded to give him Norland living;
which I understand is a very good one, and the present incumbent not
likely to live a great while.  That would be enough for us to marry
upon, and we might trust to time and chance for the rest."

"I should always be happy," replied Elinor, "to show any mark of my
esteem and friendship for Mr. Ferrars; but do you not perceive that my
interest on such an occasion would be perfectly unnecessary?  He is
brother to Mrs. John Dashwood--THAT must be recommendation enough to
her husband."

"But Mrs. John Dashwood would not much approve of Edward's going into
orders."

"Then I rather suspect that my interest would do very little."

They were again silent for many minutes.  At length Lucy exclaimed with
a deep sigh,

"I believe it would be the wisest way to put an end to the business at
once by dissolving the engagement.  We seem so beset with difficulties
on every side, that though it would make us miserable for a time, we
should be happier perhaps in the end.  But you will not give me your
advice, Miss Dashwood?"

"No," answered Elinor, with a smile, which concealed very agitated
feelings, "on such a subject I certainly will not.  You know very well
that my opinion would have no weight with you, unless it were on the
side of your wishes."

"Indeed you wrong me," replied Lucy, with great solemnity; "I know
nobody of whose judgment I think so highly as I do of yours; and I do
really believe, that if you was to say to me, 'I advise you by all
means to put an end to your engagement with Edward Ferrars, it will be
more for the happiness of both of you,' I should resolve upon doing it
immediately."

Elinor blushed for the insincerity of Edward's future wife, and
replied, "This compliment would effectually frighten me from giving any
opinion on the subject had I formed one.  It raises my influence much
too high; the power of dividing two people so tenderly attached is too
much for an indifferent person."

"'Tis because you are an indifferent person," said Lucy, with some
pique, and laying a particular stress on those words, "that your
judgment might justly have such weight with me.  If you could be
supposed to be biased in any respect by your own feelings, your opinion
would not be worth having."

Elinor thought it wisest to make no answer to this, lest they might
provoke each other to an unsuitable increase of ease and unreserve; and
was even partly determined never to mention the subject again.  Another
pause therefore of many minutes' duration, succeeded this speech, and
Lucy was still the first to end it.

"Shall you be in town this winter, Miss Dashwood?" said she with all
her accustomary complacency.

"Certainly not."

"I am sorry for that," returned the other, while her eyes brightened at
the information, "it would have gave me such pleasure to meet you
there!  But I dare say you will go for all that.  To be sure, your
brother and sister will ask you to come to them."

"It will not be in my power to accept their invitation if they do."

"How unlucky that is! I had quite depended upon meeting you there.
Anne and me are to go the latter end of January to some relations who
have been wanting us to visit them these several years!  But I only go
for the sake of seeing Edward.  He will be there in February, otherwise
London would have no charms for me; I have not spirits for it."

Elinor was soon called to the card-table by the conclusion of the first
rubber, and the confidential discourse of the two ladies was therefore
at an end, to which both of them submitted without any reluctance, for
nothing had been said on either side to make them dislike each other
less than they had done before; and Elinor sat down to the card table
with the melancholy persuasion that Edward was not only without
affection for the person who was to be his wife; but that he had not
even the chance of being tolerably happy in marriage, which sincere
affection on HER side would have given, for self-interest alone could
induce a woman to keep a man to an engagement, of which she seemed so
thoroughly aware that he was weary.

From this time the subject was never revived by Elinor, and when
entered on by Lucy, who seldom missed an opportunity of introducing it,
and was particularly careful to inform her confidante, of her happiness
whenever she received a letter from Edward, it was treated by the
former with calmness and caution, and dismissed as soon as civility
would allow; for she felt such conversations to be an indulgence which
Lucy did not deserve, and which were dangerous to herself.

The visit of the Miss Steeles at Barton Park was lengthened far beyond
what the first invitation implied.  Their favour increased; they could
not be spared; Sir John would not hear of their going; and in spite of
their numerous and long arranged engagements in Exeter, in spite of the
absolute necessity of returning to fulfill them immediately, which was
in full force at the end of every week, they were prevailed on to stay
nearly two months at the park, and to assist in the due celebration of
that festival which requires a more than ordinary share of private
balls and large dinners to proclaim its importance.

Elinor broaches the subject of Lucy's engagement, on the pretense of wanting to be of more help to Lucy; Lucy admits that she is of a jealous nature, and Elinor does all that she can to get Lucy to believe that she has no designs on Edward. Elinor advises Lucy that to reveal the engagement to Edward's family might lead to his disinheritance in favor of his brother, who is rather foolish, and that to encourage Edward into the church so that they might marry would also prove unsuccessful. Lucy, frustrated, says that maybe she should call off the engagement because there are too many difficulties; Elinor says she should not advise this, though Lucy flatters Elinor as if she were a close advisor, and says whatever Elinor says she will do. Their conversation comes to an uneasy end, and though Elinor has made a good attempt to try and prove that she is not interested in Edward, it is not certain whether this has worked. The Miss Steeles end up staying at Barton Park for two months, because of Lady Middleton's favor of them. Elinor tries to avoid speaking of Edward with Lucy, since she is fully aware of Lucy's jealousy and thinks Lucy's confidences self-indulgent.

Lucy's insincerity disturbs Elinor, although Elinor is lucky that she senses Lucy's traps and avoids them. Lucy proves to be jealous, just as Elinor suspected, and acting with what seems like pure self-interest on her own part in holding Edward to such a long engagement. It is unfortunate for Edward that decorum will not permit him to break off the engagement himself, and that he also is bound to a woman who seems to think mostly of her own satisfaction rather than his. The delicacy required of such social interaction is revealed by Austen; one needs keen powers of perception, like Elinor's, the ability to convincingly state convictions that one does not feel, and a diplomatic ability to resolve situations adequately. In order to be successful, a person must have as much sense and caution as Elinor; for an incorrect statement or look in her conversation with Lucy would reveal Elinor's true feelings to her rival, and be disastrous. Austen's tendency toward understatement of these perils, and her calm, appraising tone in discussing them obscures somewhat the perils of such polite society, and its complex codes and requirements

Elinor starts right in, saying that she'd like to serve as Lucy's confidante. Lucy is relieved, since she was worried that Elinor was offended by the secret. Elinor assures her that it's not true. Lucy notes that Elinor was clearly made uncomfortable and unhappy by the fact that she and Edward are engaged, and says that she was sure that Elinor was angry with her. She's glad this isn't the case. The pair dive right in to a practical conversation about money matters - after all, Edward is dependent on his mother for income, and Lucy's resigned to waiting for a while longer for him to have enough money to support him. It's clear that he'd get more money out of his mom if he married "well" - that is to say, upwards. Elinor broaches a sensitive topic - isn't Lucy worried that Edward's affection will run out after all this waiting? Lucy denies that this is an issue. As for the problem of Mrs. Ferrars, Lucy doesn't want to be too hasty; she thinks that Mrs. Ferrars might be so angered by news of the engagement that she'd give all her money to the younger son, Robert. Elinor asks if Lucy knows Robert at all - she doesn't, but rumor has it he's foolish and vain, unlike Edward. Miss Steele unfortunately overhears this last comment and loudly observes that the two girls must be talking about "beaux." There's a rather awkward moment where Mrs. Jennings refers jokingly to Elinor's beau , and Miss Steele, who knows about the secret engagement, says that Lucy's beau is just as nice as Elinor's. That is, we know, because he's the same guy. Seriously awkward. Marianne fortunately intervenes musically, with a particularly loud movement of the piano piece she's playing. Under cover of the music, Lucy exposes her new cunning plan, which is to get John and Fanny to give the Norland "living" to Edward . Of course, since John is Elinor's brother, Lucy wants Elinor's help in managing this plan. Elinor basically shoots this down - since Fanny wouldn't be satisfied with Edward becoming a pastor, surely her intervention wouldn't help at all. Lucy tries to pull the pity card, saying that the easiest thing would probably just to end the engagement. She asks for Elinor's advice on the matter. Hmm...what's poor Elinor supposed to say? Of course, this would be the best thing for her... Elinor smiles to disguise her emotional turmoil, saying that surely her opinion wouldn't make a difference to Lucy. Lucy denies it - she really wants to hear Elinor's advice, and even claims that it's within Elinor's powers to make her break off the engagement. Elinor again dodges the question; Lucy pushes her further. Several awkward moments of silence pass. Lucy gives up, and changes the subject - will the Dashwoods be in London in the winter? Elinor says that they absolutely won't. Lucy says she's sorry to hear it, but certainly doesn't look sorry. She says that she'd hoped to see them there, but otherwise, she's only going to see Edward. Finally, Elinor is called back to the card table; she goes back to the group, disgruntled and full of dislike for Lucy. The feeling appears to be mutual. From then on, Elinor doesn't bring up the engagement, though Lucy reminds her of it constantly. Lucy and Anne's stay is drawn out for longer than expected, and eventually, they end up staying almost two months. Two months too long, as far as we're concerned.