Mrs. Dashwood was surprised only for a moment at seeing him; for his
coming to Barton was, in her opinion, of all things the most natural.
Her joy and expression of regard long outlived her wonder.  He received
the kindest welcome from her; and shyness, coldness, reserve could not
stand against such a reception.  They had begun to fail him before he
entered the house, and they were quite overcome by the captivating
manners of Mrs. Dashwood.  Indeed a man could not very well be in love
with either of her daughters, without extending the passion to her; and
Elinor had the satisfaction of seeing him soon become more like
himself.  His affections seemed to reanimate towards them all, and his
interest in their welfare again became perceptible.  He was not in
spirits, however; he praised their house, admired its prospect, was
attentive, and kind; but still he was not in spirits.  The whole family
perceived it, and Mrs. Dashwood, attributing it to some want of
liberality in his mother, sat down to table indignant against all
selfish parents.

"What are Mrs. Ferrars's views for you at present, Edward?" said she,
when dinner was over and they had drawn round the fire; "are you still
to be a great orator in spite of yourself?"

"No. I hope my mother is now convinced that I have no more talents than
inclination for a public life!"

"But how is your fame to be established? for famous you must be to
satisfy all your family; and with no inclination for expense, no
affection for strangers, no profession, and no assurance, you may find
it a difficult matter."

"I shall not attempt it.  I have no wish to be distinguished; and have
every reason to hope I never shall.  Thank Heaven! I cannot be forced
into genius and eloquence."

"You have no ambition, I well know.  Your wishes are all moderate."

"As moderate as those of the rest of the world, I believe.  I wish as
well as every body else to be perfectly happy; but, like every body
else it must be in my own way.  Greatness will not make me so."

"Strange that it would!" cried Marianne.  "What have wealth or grandeur
to do with happiness?"

"Grandeur has but little," said Elinor, "but wealth has much to do with
it."

"Elinor, for shame!" said Marianne, "money can only give happiness
where there is nothing else to give it.  Beyond a competence, it can
afford no real satisfaction, as far as mere self is concerned."

"Perhaps," said Elinor, smiling, "we may come to the same point.  YOUR
competence and MY wealth are very much alike, I dare say; and without
them, as the world goes now, we shall both agree that every kind of
external comfort must be wanting.  Your ideas are only more noble than
mine.  Come, what is your competence?"

"About eighteen hundred or two thousand a year; not more than THAT."

Elinor laughed.  "TWO thousand a year! ONE is my wealth! I guessed how
it would end."

"And yet two thousand a-year is a very moderate income," said Marianne.
"A family cannot well be maintained on a smaller.  I am sure I am not
extravagant in my demands.  A proper establishment of servants, a
carriage, perhaps two, and hunters, cannot be supported on less."

Elinor smiled again, to hear her sister describing so accurately their
future expenses at Combe Magna.

"Hunters!" repeated Edward--"but why must you have hunters?  Every body
does not hunt."

Marianne coloured as she replied, "But most people do."

"I wish," said Margaret, striking out a novel thought, "that somebody
would give us all a large fortune apiece!"

"Oh that they would!" cried Marianne, her eyes sparkling with
animation, and her cheeks glowing with the delight of such imaginary
happiness.

"We are all unanimous in that wish, I suppose," said Elinor, "in spite
of the insufficiency of wealth."

"Oh dear!" cried Margaret, "how happy I should be!  I wonder what I
should do with it!"

Marianne looked as if she had no doubt on that point.

"I should be puzzled to spend so large a fortune myself," said Mrs.
Dashwood, "if my children were all to be rich without my help."

"You must begin your improvements on this house," observed Elinor, "and
your difficulties will soon vanish."

"What magnificent orders would travel from this family to London," said
Edward, "in such an event!  What a happy day for booksellers,
music-sellers, and print-shops!  You, Miss Dashwood, would give a
general commission for every new print of merit to be sent you--and as
for Marianne, I know her greatness of soul, there would not be music
enough in London to content her.  And books!--Thomson, Cowper,
Scott--she would buy them all over and over again: she would buy up
every copy, I believe, to prevent their falling into unworthy hands;
and she would have every book that tells her how to admire an old
twisted tree.  Should not you, Marianne?  Forgive me, if I am very
saucy.  But I was willing to shew you that I had not forgot our old
disputes."

"I love to be reminded of the past, Edward--whether it be melancholy or
gay, I love to recall it--and you will never offend me by talking of
former times.  You are very right in supposing how my money would be
spent--some of it, at least--my loose cash would certainly be employed
in improving my collection of music and books."

"And the bulk of your fortune would be laid out in annuities on the
authors or their heirs."

"No, Edward, I should have something else to do with it."

"Perhaps, then, you would bestow it as a reward on that person who
wrote the ablest defence of your favourite maxim, that no one can ever
be in love more than once in their life--your opinion on that point is
unchanged, I presume?"

"Undoubtedly. At my time of life opinions are tolerably fixed.  It is
not likely that I should now see or hear any thing to change them."

"Marianne is as steadfast as ever, you see," said Elinor, "she is not
at all altered."

"She is only grown a little more grave than she was."

"Nay, Edward," said Marianne, "you need not reproach me.  You are not
very gay yourself."

"Why should you think so!" replied he, with a sigh.  "But gaiety never
was a part of MY character."

"Nor do I think it a part of Marianne's," said Elinor; "I should hardly
call her a lively girl--she is very earnest, very eager in all she
does--sometimes talks a great deal and always with animation--but she
is not often really merry."

"I believe you are right," he replied, "and yet I have always set her
down as a lively girl."

"I have frequently detected myself in such kind of mistakes," said
Elinor, "in a total misapprehension of character in some point or
other: fancying people so much more gay or grave, or ingenious or
stupid than they really are, and I can hardly tell why or in what the
deception originated.  Sometimes one is guided by what they say of
themselves, and very frequently by what other people say of them,
without giving oneself time to deliberate and judge."

"But I thought it was right, Elinor," said Marianne, "to be guided
wholly by the opinion of other people.  I thought our judgments were
given us merely to be subservient to those of neighbours.  This has
always been your doctrine, I am sure."

"No, Marianne, never.  My doctrine has never aimed at the subjection of
the understanding.  All I have ever attempted to influence has been the
behaviour.  You must not confound my meaning.  I am guilty, I confess,
of having often wished you to treat our acquaintance in general with
greater attention; but when have I advised you to adopt their
sentiments or to conform to their judgment in serious matters?"

"You have not been able to bring your sister over to your plan of
general civility," said Edward to Elinor.  "Do you gain no ground?"

"Quite the contrary," replied Elinor, looking expressively at Marianne.

"My judgment," he returned, "is all on your side of the question; but I
am afraid my practice is much more on your sister's.  I never wish to
offend, but I am so foolishly shy, that I often seem negligent, when I
am only kept back by my natural awkwardness.  I have frequently thought
that I must have been intended by nature to be fond of low company, I
am so little at my ease among strangers of gentility!"

"Marianne has not shyness to excuse any inattention of hers," said
Elinor.

"She knows her own worth too well for false shame," replied Edward.
"Shyness is only the effect of a sense of inferiority in some way or
other.  If I could persuade myself that my manners were perfectly easy
and graceful, I should not be shy."

"But you would still be reserved," said Marianne, "and that is worse."

Edward started--"Reserved! Am I reserved, Marianne?"

"Yes, very."

"I do not understand you," replied he, colouring.  "Reserved!--how, in
what manner?  What am I to tell you?  What can you suppose?"

Elinor looked surprised at his emotion; but trying to laugh off the
subject, she said to him, "Do not you know my sister well enough to
understand what she means?  Do not you know she calls every one
reserved who does not talk as fast, and admire what she admires as
rapturously as herself?"

Edward made no answer.  His gravity and thoughtfulness returned on him
in their fullest extent--and he sat for some time silent and dull.

Mrs. Dashwood is happy to see that Edward has come, and welcomes him very warmly as their guest. He becomes more easy and less reserved around them, though it is obvious to them that he is in poor spirits for some reason. Mrs. Dashwood believes this is because his mother has put pressure on him to take up a profession and distinguish himself; Edward says he has no desire to live anything but a quiet, private life, though his mother will not accept this. Small talk follows, about money and character and judging people; then, Marianne remarks that Edward is reserved, and this brings back the dejection they noticed in him earlier in the day.

Again, the theme of money is shown to be of importance to the Dashwood girls; they cannot sustain themselves on their very small fortunes, and this limits their choices. Gender is also a theme in this discussion with Edward; although Edward can choose a profession and make his own money, all that the Dashwood girls can do is rely on inheritances or marriage to sustain them. Elinor also brings up the theme of judgment, and how a person learns to judge other people; she notes how it can be easy to misjudge a person by what people say about them or what they say about themselves, and to not understand who they really are

Mrs. Dashwood is pleasantly surprised by Edward's appearance - but not too surprised, since she takes it for granted that he's in love with Elinor. Under her affectionate gaze, he can't help but become more like his previous self, and Elinor is relieved that he's back to normal. Mrs. Dashwood asks a rather sensitive question - what are Mrs. Ferrars's plans for her eldest son? Are her expectations still too high? Edward tells them that he still doesn't have any ambition, except to live moderately and happily. Elinor and Marianne have another spat, this time about how much money one requires to live well - Elinor's estimated sum is about half of what her sister requires. Marianne describes her reasons for needing two thousand pounds a year, including horses for hunting - and they match up exactly with what she and Willoughby would require at his home, Combe Magna. Margaret comes up with a great solution - someone should come along and give them all a huge fortune each. Margaret and Mrs. Dashwood wonder what they would spend all the money on. Marianne looks as though she already knows. Edward guesses that Elinor would spend all of hers on fine art, and Marianne would buy tons of music and books. He teases the sisters easily, and Marianne seems to cheer up a bit. Elinor and Edward affectionately analyze Marianne's character . Marianne steps in to criticize how much stock Elinor puts in other people's opinions. Edward admits that he himself is perhaps a little too shy - Marianne comes out and says that he's too reserved. He's thrown off and is embarrassed by this claim.

Edward's presence cheers the atmosphere of Barton cottage. Mrs. Dashwood is happy to see him and inquires about his family. Edward is overwhelmed by her hospitality and kindness. Although he does not display high spirits, he feels comfortable in their company. The girls draw him into an animated conversation, and he participates with enthusiasm. He teases Marianne, but when she calls him reserved, he is offended.

Notes The Dashwoods present themselves as a happy and harmonious family. They are delighted to entertain special guests like Edward. Edward's arrival at Barton Cottage subdues the gloom caused by Willoughby's departure. Mrs. Dashwood and the girls do their best to make Edward feel at home. They talk to him like good friends and jest with him. The conversation between Edward and the girls exposes the attitude of each participant. Marianne reveals her idealism when she mocks wealth and grandeur. She is frank and blunt in expressing her views. Elinor's remarks emphasize her pragmatism and common sense. She is cautious but firm in expressing her thoughts. Margaret represents the bubbly teenager with stars in her eyes and fancy wishes in her heart. Edward is frank in his views but is sensitive to others' remarks about him. CHAPTER 18 Summary Elinor is disturbed to see Edward looking forlorn. She begins to doubt his affection for her. During lunch, Marianne notices a lock of hair in Edward's ring and comments on it. Edward puts forward an unconvincing reply. John Middleton pays them a visit and gets acquainted with Edward. He also realizes that Edward is the same man Margaret had mentioned as her elder sister's love. He invites all of them to tea followed by dinner at the Park. At the party John Middleton refers to Willoughby, much to Marianne's delight. Edward is able to guess the extent of the relationship between Marianne and Willoughby. Notes Elinor is observant. She notices the change in Edward's behavior. His forced reserve and aloof manner arouse her suspicions. She is no longer sure of Edward's feelings for herself. She is disturbed but hides her emotions cleverly and behaves normally with Edward. Edward's disturbed mind affects his speech and manner. He is cautious in his behavior towards the family, and he sounds bitter during their conversations. He is critical about himself and confesses his inability to appreciate the beauty of the countryside or to express it in words. His statements shock Marianne, but Elinor looks amused. Marianne is blunt and indiscreet. She inquires about the lock of hair on Edward's ring, much to his and Elinor's embarrassment. The situation is saved by Edward's diplomacy and Elinor's cool manner. CHAPTER 19 Summary Edward spends a pleasant week with the Dashwood family. During one of their conversations, Mrs. Dashwood suggests that Edward to pursue a profession of his choice to keep himself occupied. Edward expresses his helplessness in the matter. When he takes their leave, he looks depressed. Elinor feels disturbed but is discreet enough not to reveal her emotions to others. She keeps herself busy doing household work. One day the Middletons bring two new guests to the cottage. They are Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, the daughter and son-in-law of Mrs. Jennings. Mr. Palmer keeps himself aloof from others. As they leave, Sir John extends an invitation to the Dashwoods to spend the next day at the Park. Notes Jane Austen keeps introducing new guests at Barton. Willoughby, Edward and the Palmers arrive one after the other. Also, each party makes an appearance only after the previous one has left the scene. This device enables the author to direct the reader's attention in a controlled fashion. Edward displays sadness while expressing his thoughts to the Dashwoods and appears dejected before leaving the cottage. He does not appear his normal self; he is inhibited in his behavior. Elinor, unlike Marianne, keeps her sorrow well concealed from the others. Edward's departure from Barton does affect her emotionally, but she does not brood over it, like her sister would. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, she keeps her mind occupied by performing household duties. In contrast to Edward's cautious reserve is Mrs. Palmer's uninhibited manner. She is delighted to meet the Dashwood girls and appreciates the decor of the cottage. She is overexcited, shows enthusiasm and looks cheerful. Mr. Palmer is exactly her opposite in temperament. He is sober and reserved, keeping his thoughts to himself. They make an interesting couple and amuse the readers with their idiosyncrasies. Sir John takes pleasure in entertaining guests and introducing them to the Dashwoods. He is proud of his cultured tenants and is overjoyed at having invited them to the Park. Elinor understands his nature and accepts his hospitality with good- humor, but Marianne is evidently irked by his frequent invitations.


Elinor saw, with great uneasiness the low spirits of her friend.  His
visit afforded her but a very partial satisfaction, while his own
enjoyment in it appeared so imperfect.  It was evident that he was
unhappy; she wished it were equally evident that he still distinguished
her by the same affection which once she had felt no doubt of
inspiring; but hitherto the continuance of his preference seemed very
uncertain; and the reservedness of his manner towards her contradicted
one moment what a more animated look had intimated the preceding one.

He joined her and Marianne in the breakfast-room the next morning
before the others were down; and Marianne, who was always eager to
promote their happiness as far as she could, soon left them to
themselves.  But before she was half way upstairs she heard the parlour
door open, and, turning round, was astonished to see Edward himself
come out.

"I am going into the village to see my horses," said he, "as you are
not yet ready for breakfast; I shall be back again presently."

                    ***

Edward returned to them with fresh admiration of the surrounding
country; in his walk to the village, he had seen many parts of the
valley to advantage; and the village itself, in a much higher situation
than the cottage, afforded a general view of the whole, which had
exceedingly pleased him.  This was a subject which ensured Marianne's
attention, and she was beginning to describe her own admiration of
these scenes, and to question him more minutely on the objects that had
particularly struck him, when Edward interrupted her by saying, "You
must not enquire too far, Marianne--remember I have no knowledge in the
picturesque, and I shall offend you by my ignorance and want of taste
if we come to particulars.  I shall call hills steep, which ought to be
bold; surfaces strange and uncouth, which ought to be irregular and
rugged; and distant objects out of sight, which ought only to be
indistinct through the soft medium of a hazy atmosphere.  You must be
satisfied with such admiration as I can honestly give.  I call it a
very fine country--the hills are steep, the woods seem full of fine
timber, and the valley looks comfortable and snug--with rich meadows
and several neat farm houses scattered here and there.  It exactly
answers my idea of a fine country, because it unites beauty with
utility--and I dare say it is a picturesque one too, because you admire
it; I can easily believe it to be full of rocks and promontories, grey
moss and brush wood, but these are all lost on me.  I know nothing of
the picturesque."

"I am afraid it is but too true," said Marianne; "but why should you
boast of it?"

"I suspect," said Elinor, "that to avoid one kind of affectation,
Edward here falls into another.  Because he believes many people
pretend to more admiration of the beauties of nature than they really
feel, and is disgusted with such pretensions, he affects greater
indifference and less discrimination in viewing them himself than he
possesses.  He is fastidious and will have an affectation of his own."

"It is very true," said Marianne, "that admiration of landscape scenery
is become a mere jargon.  Every body pretends to feel and tries to
describe with the taste and elegance of him who first defined what
picturesque beauty was.  I detest jargon of every kind, and sometimes I
have kept my feelings to myself, because I could find no language to
describe them in but what was worn and hackneyed out of all sense and
meaning."

"I am convinced," said Edward, "that you really feel all the delight in
a fine prospect which you profess to feel.  But, in return, your sister
must allow me to feel no more than I profess.  I like a fine prospect,
but not on picturesque principles.  I do not like crooked, twisted,
blasted trees.  I admire them much more if they are tall, straight, and
flourishing.  I do not like ruined, tattered cottages.  I am not fond
of nettles or thistles, or heath blossoms.  I have more pleasure in a
snug farm-house than a watch-tower--and a troop of tidy, happy villages
please me better than the finest banditti in the world."

Marianne looked with amazement at Edward, with compassion at her
sister.  Elinor only laughed.

The subject was continued no farther; and Marianne remained
thoughtfully silent, till a new object suddenly engaged her attention.
She was sitting by Edward, and in taking his tea from Mrs. Dashwood,
his hand passed so directly before her, as to make a ring, with a plait
of hair in the centre, very conspicuous on one of his fingers.

"I never saw you wear a ring before, Edward," she cried.  "Is that
Fanny's hair? I remember her promising to give you some.  But I should
have thought her hair had been darker."

Marianne spoke inconsiderately what she really felt--but when she saw
how much she had pained Edward, her own vexation at her want of thought
could not be surpassed by his.  He coloured very deeply, and giving a
momentary glance at Elinor, replied, "Yes; it is my sister's hair.  The
setting always casts a different shade on it, you know."

Elinor had met his eye, and looked conscious likewise.  That the hair
was her own, she instantaneously felt as well satisfied as Marianne;
the only difference in their conclusions was, that what Marianne
considered as a free gift from her sister, Elinor was conscious must
have been procured by some theft or contrivance unknown to herself.
She was not in a humour, however, to regard it as an affront, and
affecting to take no notice of what passed, by instantly talking of
something else, she internally resolved henceforward to catch every
opportunity of eyeing the hair and of satisfying herself, beyond all
doubt, that it was exactly the shade of her own.

Edward's embarrassment lasted some time, and it ended in an absence of
mind still more settled.  He was particularly grave the whole morning.
Marianne severely censured herself for what she had said; but her own
forgiveness might have been more speedy, had she known how little
offence it had given her sister.

Before the middle of the day, they were visited by Sir John and Mrs.
Jennings, who, having heard of the arrival of a gentleman at the
cottage, came to take a survey of the guest.  With the assistance of
his mother-in-law, Sir John was not long in discovering that the name
of Ferrars began with an F. and this prepared a future mine of raillery
against the devoted Elinor, which nothing but the newness of their
acquaintance with Edward could have prevented from being immediately
sprung.  But, as it was, she only learned, from some very significant
looks, how far their penetration, founded on Margaret's instructions,
extended.

Sir John never came to the Dashwoods without either inviting them to
dine at the park the next day, or to drink tea with them that evening.
On the present occasion, for the better entertainment of their visitor,
towards whose amusement he felt himself bound to contribute, he wished
to engage them for both.

"You MUST drink tea with us to night," said he, "for we shall be quite
alone--and tomorrow you must absolutely dine with us, for we shall be a
large party."

Mrs. Jennings enforced the necessity.  "And who knows but you may raise
a dance," said she.  "And that will tempt YOU, Miss Marianne."

"A dance!" cried Marianne.  "Impossible! Who is to dance?"

"Who! why yourselves, and the Careys, and Whitakers to be sure.--What!
you thought nobody could dance because a certain person that shall be
nameless is gone!"

"I wish with all my soul," cried Sir John, "that Willoughby were among
us again."

This, and Marianne's blushing, gave new suspicions to Edward.  "And who
is Willoughby?" said he, in a low voice, to Miss Dashwood, by whom he
was sitting.

She gave him a brief reply.  Marianne's countenance was more
communicative.  Edward saw enough to comprehend, not only the meaning
of others, but such of Marianne's expressions as had puzzled him
before; and when their visitors left them, he went immediately round
her, and said, in a whisper, "I have been guessing.  Shall I tell you
my guess?"

"What do you mean?"

"Shall I tell you."

"Certainly."

"Well then; I guess that Mr. Willoughby hunts."

Marianne was surprised and confused, yet she could not help smiling at
the quiet archness of his manner, and after a moment's silence, said,

"Oh, Edward! How can you?--But the time will come I hope...I am sure
you will like him."

"I do not doubt it," replied he, rather astonished at her earnestness
and warmth; for had he not imagined it to be a joke for the good of her
acquaintance in general, founded only on a something or a nothing
between Mr. Willoughby and herself, he would not have ventured to
mention it.

It is painful to Elinor that Edward is so obviously unhappy, and doesn't show the same affection for her he once did; she is confused by his mixed signals and alternation of happy and dejected spirits. They discuss the countryside, which Edward admires, but cannot appreciate as Marianne does, with such romantic conviction. Then, Marianne notices a ring Edward is wearing, with a lock of hair in it; she asks if it is the hair of Edward's sister, making him blush. Marianne and Elinor see that the hair looks exactly like Elinor's, but Elinor is puzzled since she never gave him any of her hair. Mrs. Jennings and Sir John come by to meet Edward, and decide that he must be the Mr. F. that Margaret hinted about. They are invited for tea and dinner at Barton Park, and of course accept the invitations. Sir John mentions Willoughby, and Edward manages to find out that Marianne likes him, although there is little discussion of him.

The lock of hair is a clue about the reasons for Edward's dejection; that Edward seems embarrassed at its notice, just as he was embarrassed by saying he stayed at Plymouth with friends, foreshadows that a secret about Edward is soon to be revealed. Edward's ring is a symbolic representation of this secret, and how closely he guards it. Elinor's situation is somewhat parallel to what Marianne's was, in that she is perceived to be more closely tied to a gentleman than she actually is; even Elinor's discretion cannot stop Mrs. Jennings from imagining that Edward and Elinor are engaged, when this is an overstatement of their relationship

Elinor notices that Edward is feeling kind of down; she can't enjoy his visit if he can't. She wishes she knew what his deal is. Edward, Marianne, and Elinor find themselves at breakfast together the next day. Marianne, trying to push things along in her sister's relationship, makes a big show of leaving them together, but Edward just responds by leaving to look at his horses . Edward returns from his quality time with the horses seeming somewhat refreshed; he praises the beautiful countryside. Marianne, who's also an admirer of nature, presses him for details on his walk, and he responds somewhat oddly, saying that he has no talent for describing the picturesque. Marianne doesn't really get him, but Elinor does - of course. She explains to her sister that Edward avoids flowery descriptions that have very little meaning, but goes to the opposite extreme of not describing at all. Edward himself steps in to say that he, unlike so many admirers of the romantic landscape, prefers things that are wholesomely beautiful to those that are dramatic - Marianne is shocked, but Elinor understands. Later on, Marianne notices that Edward's wearing a new ring, that's set with a braid of hair. Yes, you read right - human hair. This seems freaky to us, but making jewelry that incorporated a loved one's hair was common practice in Austen's time. Anyway, Edward's got a new ring, and Marianne asks about it. Edward claims that the hair is his sister Fanny's , even though it looks like it's not quite the right color. Who could it belong to? Both Elinor and Marianne assume that the hair is actually Elinor's. Marianne assumes that her sister gave Edward the lock of hair as a gift, while Elinor herself thinks that he must have somehow stolen it. However, she's not offended at all - in fact, she wants to get a better look at it herself to make sure it's hers. Can this mean that Edward is really in love with her? Edward is terribly embarrassed by this whole incident. Marianne feels bad about it, but our knowing narrator tells us that she wouldn't have felt so bad had she known that the conversation about the ring was actually quite welcome to Elinor. Sir John and Mrs. Jennings stop by for a visit, having heard that the cottage has a mysterious gentleman visiting. They are delighted to find that Edward's last name, Ferrars, begins with an "F" - if you recall, Margaret let slip earlier on the fact that Elinor's suitor's name begins with that letter. They assume - correctly - that he's the man in question. Fortunately, they don't bring up the subject with Edward himself. Sir John and Mrs. Jennings invite the Dashwoods and their guest over for tea and dinner the next day, and attempt to lure their young friends over with the prospect of a dance. Marianne scoffs at this idea, and asks who will dance; Mrs. Jennings and Sir John rather tactlessly refer to Willoughby's notable absence. Edward unknowingly inquires about Willoughby, and notices Marianne's reactions. Once the visitors have left, he teases Marianne about this new friend, implying that he's the source of Marianne's thoughts about her future household . Marianne smiles, and replies only that she hopes that he and Willoughby will get along . Edward is surprised by her revealing response.

Edward's reticence became more noticeable as his visit continued. On one occasion Marianne attempted to leave the couple alone together and met with the speedy withdrawal of Edward from the room where she had left them. One day when the sisters and Edward were having breakfast, Marianne noticed "a ring, with a plait of hair in the centre," on one of Edward's fingers. She asked him if it was Fanny's, and Edward answered in the affirmative. Elinor and Marianne, however, believed it was Elinor's, although while Marianne thought it was freely given, Elinor was "conscious it must have been procured by some theft or contrivance unknown to herself." At noon, Sir John and Mrs. Jennings arrived, curious about the guest at the cottage. Realizing that he was the mysterious man with a name beginning with "F," Sir John insisted that they must "drink tea" at Barton Park that night and dine there the following day.

Notice Edward's raillery of Marianne's sentimental view of the landscape. While he admires it for its utility and beauty, he is aware that Marianne's appreciation of it is for its romantic attributes. He is warmly sarcastic in his delineation of the differences between their points of view. He says, "I shall call hills steep, which ought to be bold; surfaces strange and uncouth, which ought to be irregular and rugged. . . . I know nothing of the picturesque."


Edward remained a week at the cottage; he was earnestly pressed by Mrs.
Dashwood to stay longer; but, as if he were bent only on
self-mortification, he seemed resolved to be gone when his enjoyment
among his friends was at the height.  His spirits, during the last two
or three days, though still very unequal, were greatly improved--he
grew more and more partial to the house and environs--never spoke of
going away without a sigh--declared his time to be wholly
disengaged--even doubted to what place he should go when he left
them--but still, go he must.  Never had any week passed so quickly--he
could hardly believe it to be gone.  He said so repeatedly; other
things he said too, which marked the turn of his feelings and gave the
lie to his actions.  He had no pleasure at Norland; he detested being
in town; but either to Norland or London, he must go.  He valued their
kindness beyond any thing, and his greatest happiness was in being with
them.  Yet, he must leave them at the end of a week, in spite of their
wishes and his own, and without any restraint on his time.

Elinor placed all that was astonishing in this way of acting to his
mother's account; and it was happy for her that he had a mother whose
character was so imperfectly known to her, as to be the general excuse
for every thing strange on the part of her son.  Disappointed, however,
and vexed as she was, and sometimes displeased with his uncertain
behaviour to herself, she was very well disposed on the whole to regard
his actions with all the candid allowances and generous qualifications,
which had been rather more painfully extorted from her, for
Willoughby's service, by her mother.  His want of spirits, of openness,
and of consistency, were most usually attributed to his want of
independence, and his better knowledge of Mrs. Ferrars's disposition
and designs.  The shortness of his visit, the steadiness of his purpose
in leaving them, originated in the same fettered inclination, the same
inevitable necessity of temporizing with his mother.  The old
well-established grievance of duty against will, parent against child,
was the cause of all.  She would have been glad to know when these
difficulties were to cease, this opposition was to yield,--when Mrs.
Ferrars would be reformed, and her son be at liberty to be happy.  But
from such vain wishes she was forced to turn for comfort to the renewal
of her confidence in Edward's affection, to the remembrance of every
mark of regard in look or word which fell from him while at Barton, and
above all to that flattering proof of it which he constantly wore round
his finger.

"I think, Edward," said Mrs. Dashwood, as they were at breakfast the
last morning, "you would be a happier man if you had any profession to
engage your time and give an interest to your plans and actions.  Some
inconvenience to your friends, indeed, might result from it--you would
not be able to give them so much of your time.  But (with a smile) you
would be materially benefited in one particular at least--you would
know where to go when you left them."

"I do assure you," he replied, "that I have long thought on this point,
as you think now.  It has been, and is, and probably will always be a
heavy misfortune to me, that I have had no necessary business to engage
me, no profession to give me employment, or afford me any thing like
independence.  But unfortunately my own nicety, and the nicety of my
friends, have made me what I am, an idle, helpless being.  We never
could agree in our choice of a profession.  I always preferred the
church, as I still do.  But that was not smart enough for my family.
They recommended the army.  That was a great deal too smart for me.
The law was allowed to be genteel enough; many young men, who had
chambers in the Temple, made a very good appearance in the first
circles, and drove about town in very knowing gigs.  But I had no
inclination for the law, even in this less abstruse study of it, which
my family approved.  As for the navy, it had fashion on its side, but I
was too old when the subject was first started to enter it--and, at
length, as there was no necessity for my having any profession at all,
as I might be as dashing and expensive without a red coat on my back as
with one, idleness was pronounced on the whole to be most advantageous
and honourable, and a young man of eighteen is not in general so
earnestly bent on being busy as to resist the solicitations of his
friends to do nothing.  I was therefore entered at Oxford and have been
properly idle ever since."

"The consequence of which, I suppose, will be," said Mrs. Dashwood,
"since leisure has not promoted your own happiness, that your sons will
be brought up to as many pursuits, employments, professions, and trades
as Columella's."

"They will be brought up," said he, in a serious accent, "to be as
unlike myself as is possible.  In feeling, in action, in condition, in
every thing."

"Come, come; this is all an effusion of immediate want of spirits,
Edward.  You are in a melancholy humour, and fancy that any one unlike
yourself must be happy.  But remember that the pain of parting from
friends will be felt by every body at times, whatever be their
education or state.  Know your own happiness.  You want nothing but
patience--or give it a more fascinating name, call it hope.  Your
mother will secure to you, in time, that independence you are so
anxious for; it is her duty, and it will, it must ere long become her
happiness to prevent your whole youth from being wasted in discontent.
How much may not a few months do?"

"I think," replied Edward, "that I may defy many months to produce any
good to me."

This desponding turn of mind, though it could not be communicated to
Mrs. Dashwood, gave additional pain to them all in the parting, which
shortly took place, and left an uncomfortable impression on Elinor's
feelings especially, which required some trouble and time to subdue.
But as it was her determination to subdue it, and to prevent herself
from appearing to suffer more than what all her family suffered on his
going away, she did not adopt the method so judiciously employed by
Marianne, on a similar occasion, to augment and fix her sorrow, by
seeking silence, solitude and idleness.  Their means were as different
as their objects, and equally suited to the advancement of each.

Elinor sat down to her drawing-table as soon as he was out of the
house, busily employed herself the whole day, neither sought nor
avoided the mention of his name, appeared to interest herself almost as
much as ever in the general concerns of the family, and if, by this
conduct, she did not lessen her own grief, it was at least prevented
from unnecessary increase, and her mother and sisters were spared much
solicitude on her account.

Such behaviour as this, so exactly the reverse of her own, appeared no
more meritorious to Marianne, than her own had seemed faulty to her.
The business of self-command she settled very easily;--with strong
affections it was impossible, with calm ones it could have no merit.
That her sister's affections WERE calm, she dared not deny, though she
blushed to acknowledge it; and of the strength of her own, she gave a
very striking proof, by still loving and respecting that sister, in
spite of this mortifying conviction.

Without shutting herself up from her family, or leaving the house in
determined solitude to avoid them, or lying awake the whole night to
indulge meditation, Elinor found every day afforded her leisure enough
to think of Edward, and of Edward's behaviour, in every possible
variety which the different state of her spirits at different times
could produce,--with tenderness, pity, approbation, censure, and doubt.
There were moments in abundance, when, if not by the absence of her
mother and sisters, at least by the nature of their employments,
conversation was forbidden among them, and every effect of solitude was
produced.  Her mind was inevitably at liberty; her thoughts could not
be chained elsewhere; and the past and the future, on a subject so
interesting, must be before her, must force her attention, and engross
her memory, her reflection, and her fancy.

From a reverie of this kind, as she sat at her drawing-table, she was
roused one morning, soon after Edward's leaving them, by the arrival of
company.  She happened to be quite alone.  The closing of the little
gate, at the entrance of the green court in front of the house, drew
her eyes to the window, and she saw a large party walking up to the
door.  Amongst them were Sir John and Lady Middleton and Mrs. Jennings,
but there were two others, a gentleman and lady, who were quite unknown
to her.  She was sitting near the window, and as soon as Sir John
perceived her, he left the rest of the party to the ceremony of
knocking at the door, and stepping across the turf, obliged her to open
the casement to speak to him, though the space was so short between the
door and the window, as to make it hardly possible to speak at one
without being heard at the other.

"Well," said he, "we have brought you some strangers.  How do you like
them?"

"Hush! they will hear you."

"Never mind if they do.  It is only the Palmers.  Charlotte is very
pretty, I can tell you.  You may see her if you look this way."

As Elinor was certain of seeing her in a couple of minutes, without
taking that liberty, she begged to be excused.

"Where is Marianne? Has she run away because we are come? I see her
instrument is open."

"She is walking, I believe."

They were now joined by Mrs. Jennings, who had not patience enough to
wait till the door was opened before she told HER story.  She came
hallooing to the window, "How do you do, my dear?  How does Mrs.
Dashwood do?  And where are your sisters?  What! all alone! you will be
glad of a little company to sit with you.  I have brought my other son
and daughter to see you.  Only think of their coming so suddenly!  I
thought I heard a carriage last night, while we were drinking our tea,
but it never entered my head that it could be them.  I thought of
nothing but whether it might not be Colonel Brandon come back again; so
I said to Sir John, I do think I hear a carriage; perhaps it is Colonel
Brandon come back again"--

Elinor was obliged to turn from her, in the middle of her story, to
receive the rest of the party; Lady Middleton introduced the two
strangers; Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret came down stairs at the same
time, and they all sat down to look at one another, while Mrs. Jennings
continued her story as she walked through the passage into the parlour,
attended by Sir John.

Mrs. Palmer was several years younger than Lady Middleton, and totally
unlike her in every respect.  She was short and plump, had a very
pretty face, and the finest expression of good humour in it that could
possibly be.  Her manners were by no means so elegant as her sister's,
but they were much more prepossessing.  She came in with a smile,
smiled all the time of her visit, except when she laughed, and smiled
when she went away.  Her husband was a grave looking young man of five
or six and twenty, with an air of more fashion and sense than his wife,
but of less willingness to please or be pleased.  He entered the room
with a look of self-consequence, slightly bowed to the ladies, without
speaking a word, and, after briefly surveying them and their
apartments, took up a newspaper from the table, and continued to read
it as long as he staid.

Mrs. Palmer, on the contrary, who was strongly endowed by nature with a
turn for being uniformly civil and happy, was hardly seated before her
admiration of the parlour and every thing in it burst forth.

"Well! what a delightful room this is! I never saw anything so
charming!  Only think, Mama, how it is improved since I was here last!
I always thought it such a sweet place, ma'am! (turning to Mrs.
Dashwood) but you have made it so charming!  Only look, sister, how
delightful every thing is! How I should like such a house for myself!
Should not you, Mr. Palmer?"

Mr. Palmer made her no answer, and did not even raise his eyes from the
newspaper.

"Mr. Palmer does not hear me," said she, laughing; "he never does
sometimes.  It is so ridiculous!"

This was quite a new idea to Mrs. Dashwood; she had never been used to
find wit in the inattention of any one, and could not help looking with
surprise at them both.

Mrs. Jennings, in the meantime, talked on as loud as she could, and
continued her account of their surprise, the evening before, on seeing
their friends, without ceasing till every thing was told.  Mrs. Palmer
laughed heartily at the recollection of their astonishment, and every
body agreed, two or three times over, that it had been quite an
agreeable surprise.

"You may believe how glad we all were to see them," added Mrs.
Jennings, leaning forward towards Elinor, and speaking in a low voice
as if she meant to be heard by no one else, though they were seated on
different sides of the room; "but, however, I can't help wishing they
had not travelled quite so fast, nor made such a long journey of it,
for they came all round by London upon account of some business, for
you know (nodding significantly and pointing to her daughter) it was
wrong in her situation.  I wanted her to stay at home and rest this
morning, but she would come with us; she longed so much to see you all!"

Mrs. Palmer laughed, and said it would not do her any harm.

"She expects to be confined in February," continued Mrs. Jennings.

Lady Middleton could no longer endure such a conversation, and
therefore exerted herself to ask Mr. Palmer if there was any news in
the paper.

"No, none at all," he replied, and read on.

"Here comes Marianne," cried Sir John.  "Now, Palmer, you shall see a
monstrous pretty girl."

He immediately went into the passage, opened the front door, and
ushered her in himself.  Mrs. Jennings asked her, as soon as she
appeared, if she had not been to Allenham; and Mrs. Palmer laughed so
heartily at the question, as to show she understood it.  Mr. Palmer
looked up on her entering the room, stared at her some minutes, and
then returned to his newspaper.  Mrs. Palmer's eye was now caught by
the drawings which hung round the room.  She got up to examine them.

"Oh! dear, how beautiful these are!  Well! how delightful!  Do but
look, mama, how sweet! I declare they are quite charming; I could look
at them for ever." And then sitting down again, she very soon forgot
that there were any such things in the room.

When Lady Middleton rose to go away, Mr. Palmer rose also, laid down
the newspaper, stretched himself and looked at them all around.

"My love, have you been asleep?" said his wife, laughing.

He made her no answer; and only observed, after again examining the
room, that it was very low pitched, and that the ceiling was crooked.
He then made his bow, and departed with the rest.

Sir John had been very urgent with them all to spend the next day at
the park.  Mrs. Dashwood, who did not chuse to dine with them oftener
than they dined at the cottage, absolutely refused on her own account;
her daughters might do as they pleased.  But they had no curiosity to
see how Mr. and Mrs. Palmer ate their dinner, and no expectation of
pleasure from them in any other way.  They attempted, therefore,
likewise, to excuse themselves; the weather was uncertain, and not
likely to be good.  But Sir John would not be satisfied--the carriage
should be sent for them and they must come.  Lady Middleton too, though
she did not press their mother, pressed them.  Mrs. Jennings and Mrs.
Palmer joined their entreaties, all seemed equally anxious to avoid a
family party; and the young ladies were obliged to yield.

"Why should they ask us?" said Marianne, as soon as they were gone.
"The rent of this cottage is said to be low; but we have it on very
hard terms, if we are to dine at the park whenever any one is staying
either with them, or with us."

"They mean no less to be civil and kind to us now," said Elinor, "by
these frequent invitations, than by those which we received from them a
few weeks ago.  The alteration is not in them, if their parties are
grown tedious and dull.  We must look for the change elsewhere."

Edward stays with them for a week, and has a much better time there than at Norland or in London; still, he rejects Mrs. Dashwood's invitation to stay longer, since he feels he must leave. Edward laments that he has no occupation to take up his time, and again shows that he is unhappy in his current state. He takes his leave shortly after, and his unhappiness pains Elinor; she wishes he could be helped out of it, but is also hurt that his old affection seems to have been shaken. Elinor does not wallow in her grief at this, but busies herself about the house and tries not to appear disturbed. Sir John and Mrs. Jennings come to the cottage to introduce Mrs. Jennings' other daughter, Mrs. Palmer, and her husband to the family. Mrs. Palmer is much like her mother, very merry and chatty, whereas her husband is completely silent and not sociable at all. The girls are invited up to the house to dine with the party, though they expect no great joy in the company of Mr. and Mrs. Palmer; still, they have to accept, as Sir John is a gracious host and they can't possibly refuse him.

Marianne and Elinor are again shown to be foils in their responses to misfortune in their love lives; Elinor does the opposite of Marianne, keeping herself from feeling too much grief, and distracts herself by taking up other activities. However, Elinor's good sense and discipline does not mean that she feels any less than Marianne does, just that she expresses and conducts herself differently. This chapter shows a certain confrontation between the gossipy mirth of Mrs. Jennings and her daughter, and the propriety, and perhaps even unsociability, shown by Lady Middleton and Mr. Palmer. Manners throughout the party vary, and this makes the society that they form somewhat uneasy, and a little unpleasant, for Elinor and Marianne. Still, the girls are powerless to defy the rules of hospitality, as their indebtedness to the graciousness of Sir John means that they are obliged to accept his invitations, whether they wish to or not

Edward stays with the Dashwoods for a week, then leaves, despite the fact that he's obviously having a great time. Mrs. Dashwood asks him to stay longer, but he resists, against his own wishes. Elinor is surprised by Edward's rather odd actions, but assumes that he has to leave because his mother needs him - and, after all, he's financially dependent upon his family. She's still really disappointed by his departure, but cheers herself up with what she sees as sure proofs of his affection . On the last morning of Edward's stay, Mrs. Dashwood gently advises Edward to find some kind of career, so that he might have something to occupy his time. Edward himself says that he's often thought about this novel idea, but that he and his mother can never agree on a suitable career for him. He wants to settle down and be a clergyman, but she only wants him to be important, and doesn't think the church is impressive enough. His family has suggested that he look into the army, navy, or the law, but he's not into any of these options. Since Edward didn't want to go into any of the career paths chosen by his domineering mother, she decided that he would become an educated, idle gentleman . Edward's so not down with this plan - and he says that his own kids will be raised to be totally different from him. Aww, poor guy. Mrs. Dashwood tries to cheer him up, to no avail. Edward leaves Barton Cottage, much to everyone's dismay. Elinor is particularly sad, but unlike Marianne, she doesn't make a big show of her feelings. Instead, she keeps herself busy with her artwork. Marianne can't see that this is simply a coping mechanism. She just doesn't get Elinor, but she loves her seemingly unemotional sister all the same. Though Elinor is busy, she still can't help but think about Edward. One day, as she sits alone, drawing, Elinor receives a visit from Sir John, Lady Middleton, and Mrs. Jennings. Sir John announces that they've brought some visitors to meet the Dashwoods. Mrs. Jennings comes up, and explains that her other daughter, Charlotte Palmer, is there with her husband on a surprise visit. Next, the rest of the party shows up. Lady Middleton introduces her sister and brother-in-law, and Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret come downstairs to meet everyone. Mrs. Palmer is nothing like her older sister - she's good-natured, unfashionably friendly, beautiful, and bubbly. Her husband, on the other hand, is sensible, serious, and reserved . He submits to introductions, but goes off to read the newspaper instead of socializing. Mrs. Palmer, on the other hand, talks her hosts' ears off. She's full of praise for the cottage; her husband, obviously used to her gushing, ignores her. Their relationship is clearly rather odd. Mrs. Jennings and Mrs. Palmer relate the circumstances of the visit again... and again... and again. It turns out that Mrs. Palmer is pregnant, but despite the fact that her mother thought she needed rest after her voyage, she wanted desperately to meet the new neighbors. Like mother, like daughter. Lady Middleton obviously is not like her mother or sister. Bored, she asks Mr. Palmer if the newspaper has any news - to which he dryly replies that it doesn't. Marianne finally shows up, and is subjected to a round of questioning by the guests. It becomes clear that Mrs. Jennings has told her daughter all about Marianne and Willoughby. Mrs. Palmer is fortunately distracted by Elinor's drawings, which are displayed around the room. Finally, Lady Middleton prepares to leave, and Mr. Palmer, after observing sourly that the room's flaws , also departs, followed by everyone else. Sir John insists that his tenants join the family for dinner then next day. Though all of the Dashwoods desperately try to turn him down, he and Lady Middleton pressure the girls into saying yes . After the guests leave, Marianne moans and groans about their dinner date the next evening, saying that the cottage's low rent is more than made up for by the burden of hanging out with their talkative landlords. Elinor chastises her sister for the uncharitable comment, saying that it's not the Middletons who have grown more boring or unpleasant - rather, something else must have changed .

Edward began to enjoy his stay but insisted he had to leave at the end of the week, although it was evident he had no special place to go. Mrs. Dashwood tried to cheer him by assuring him that, in time, his mother would make him independent. But Edward only replied, "I think that I may defy many months to produce any good to me." After his departure, Elinor was bewildered and upset but "busily employed herself the whole day," for she didn't want to disturb her family or increase her own grief. Marianne could not understand her sister's calmness; she believed that if Elinor really cared for Edward, she could not be so controlled. Under her cool exterior, however, Elinor thought about Edward a lot. One morning she was roused from her thoughts by Sir John's knock at the window. He brought his wife, Mrs. Jennings, and the latter's youngest daughter and husband. Mrs. Palmer, "several years younger than Lady Middleton and totally unlike her in every respect," chattered and laughed incessantly while her husband ignored her and read the newspaper. Sir John insisted that Elinor and Marianne spend the next day at Barton Park, and for fear of being rude they were forced to accept. After his departure, Marianne complained about having to see so much of the Middletons, but Elinor reminded her that a few weeks ago she felt differently: "The alteration is not in them, if their parties are grown tedious and dull. We must look for the change elsewhere."

In this chapter, there is considerable emphasis on the dullness and banality of social visits. Marianne resents being invited so often to Barton Park. "The rent of this cottage is said to be low," she says, "but we have it on very hard terms, if we are to dine at the Park whenever any one is staying either with them or with us." The contrast between the two sisters can be markedly noticed in their respective reactions to two similar situations -- the enigmatic departures of their suitors. While Marianne cares little for the feelings of her family and wishes only to indulge her own romantic sensibilities, Elinor, not wishing to cause pain to those around her, affects a calm demeanor. However, she is affected greatly by Edward's strange behavior, and one of the only consolations to his departure is the ring he wears, which she believes contains a lock of her hair.


As the Miss Dashwoods entered the drawing-room of the park the next
day, at one door, Mrs. Palmer came running in at the other, looking as
good humoured and merry as before.  She took them all most
affectionately by the hand, and expressed great delight in seeing them
again.

"I am so glad to see you!" said she, seating herself between Elinor and
Marianne, "for it is so bad a day I was afraid you might not come,
which would be a shocking thing, as we go away again tomorrow. We must
go, for the Westons come to us next week you know.  It was quite a
sudden thing our coming at all, and I knew nothing of it till the
carriage was coming to the door, and then Mr. Palmer asked me if I
would go with him to Barton.  He is so droll! He never tells me any
thing! I am so sorry we cannot stay longer; however we shall meet again
in town very soon, I hope."

They were obliged to put an end to such an expectation.

"Not go to town!" cried Mrs. Palmer, with a laugh, "I shall be quite
disappointed if you do not.  I could get the nicest house in the world for
you, next door to ours, in Hanover-square.  You must come, indeed.  I
am sure I shall be very happy to chaperon you at any time till I am
confined, if Mrs. Dashwood should not like to go into public."

They thanked her; but were obliged to resist all her entreaties.

"Oh, my love," cried Mrs. Palmer to her husband, who just then entered
the room--"you must help me to persuade the Miss Dashwoods to go to
town this winter."

Her love made no answer; and after slightly bowing to the ladies, began
complaining of the weather.

"How horrid all this is!" said he.  "Such weather makes every thing and
every body disgusting.  Dullness is as much produced within doors as
without, by rain.  It makes one detest all one's acquaintance.  What
the devil does Sir John mean by not having a billiard room in his
house?  How few people know what comfort is!  Sir John is as stupid as
the weather."

The rest of the company soon dropt in.

"I am afraid, Miss Marianne," said Sir John, "you have not been able to
take your usual walk to Allenham today."

Marianne looked very grave and said nothing.

"Oh, don't be so sly before us," said Mrs. Palmer; "for we know all
about it, I assure you; and I admire your taste very much, for I think
he is extremely handsome.  We do not live a great way from him in the
country, you know.  Not above ten miles, I dare say."

"Much nearer thirty," said her husband.

"Ah, well! there is not much difference.  I never was at his house; but
they say it is a sweet pretty place."

"As vile a spot as I ever saw in my life," said Mr. Palmer.

Marianne remained perfectly silent, though her countenance betrayed her
interest in what was said.

"Is it very ugly?" continued Mrs. Palmer--"then it must be some other
place that is so pretty I suppose."

When they were seated in the dining room, Sir John observed with regret
that they were only eight all together.

"My dear," said he to his lady, "it is very provoking that we should be
so few.  Why did not you ask the Gilberts to come to us today?"

"Did not I tell you, Sir John, when you spoke to me about it before,
that it could not be done?  They dined with us last."

"You and I, Sir John," said Mrs. Jennings, "should not stand upon such
ceremony."

"Then you would be very ill-bred," cried Mr. Palmer.

"My love you contradict every body," said his wife with her usual
laugh.  "Do you know that you are quite rude?"

"I did not know I contradicted any body in calling your mother
ill-bred."

"Ay, you may abuse me as you please," said the good-natured old lady,
"you have taken Charlotte off my hands, and cannot give her back again.
So there I have the whip hand of you."

Charlotte laughed heartily to think that her husband could not get rid
of her; and exultingly said, she did not care how cross he was to her,
as they must live together.  It was impossible for any one to be more
thoroughly good-natured, or more determined to be happy than Mrs.
Palmer.  The studied indifference, insolence, and discontent of her
husband gave her no pain; and when he scolded or abused her, she was
highly diverted.

"Mr. Palmer is so droll!" said she, in a whisper, to Elinor.  "He is
always out of humour."

Elinor was not inclined, after a little observation, to give him credit
for being so genuinely and unaffectedly ill-natured or ill-bred as he
wished to appear.  His temper might perhaps be a little soured by
finding, like many others of his sex, that through some unaccountable
bias in favour of beauty, he was the husband of a very silly
woman,--but she knew that this kind of blunder was too common for any
sensible man to be lastingly hurt by it.-- It was rather a wish of
distinction, she believed, which produced his contemptuous treatment of
every body, and his general abuse of every thing before him.  It was
the desire of appearing superior to other people.  The motive was too
common to be wondered at; but the means, however they might succeed by
establishing his superiority in ill-breeding, were not likely to attach
any one to him except his wife.

"Oh, my dear Miss Dashwood," said Mrs. Palmer soon afterwards, "I have
got such a favour to ask of you and your sister.  Will you come and
spend some time at Cleveland this Christmas?  Now, pray do,--and come
while the Westons are with us.  You cannot think how happy I shall be!
It will be quite delightful!--My love," applying to her husband, "don't
you long to have the Miss Dashwoods come to Cleveland?"

"Certainly," he replied, with a sneer--"I came into Devonshire with no
other view."

"There now,"--said his lady, "you see Mr. Palmer expects you; so you
cannot refuse to come."

They both eagerly and resolutely declined her invitation.

"But indeed you must and shall come.  I am sure you will like it of all
things.  The Westons will be with us, and it will be quite delightful.
You cannot think what a sweet place Cleveland is; and we are so gay
now, for Mr. Palmer is always going about the country canvassing
against the election; and so many people came to dine with us that I
never saw before, it is quite charming!  But, poor fellow! it is very
fatiguing to him! for he is forced to make every body like him."

Elinor could hardly keep her countenance as she assented to the
hardship of such an obligation.

"How charming it will be," said Charlotte, "when he is in
Parliament!--won't it? How I shall laugh!  It will be so ridiculous to
see all his letters directed to him with an M.P.--But do you know, he
says, he will never frank for me?  He declares he won't.  Don't you,
Mr. Palmer?"

Mr. Palmer took no notice of her.

"He cannot bear writing, you know," she continued--"he says it is quite
shocking."

"No," said he, "I never said any thing so irrational.  Don't palm all
your abuses of languages upon me."

"There now; you see how droll he is.  This is always the way with him!
Sometimes he won't speak to me for half a day together, and then he
comes out with something so droll--all about any thing in the world."

She surprised Elinor very much as they returned into the drawing-room,
by asking her whether she did not like Mr. Palmer excessively.

"Certainly," said Elinor; "he seems very agreeable."

"Well--I am so glad you do.  I thought you would, he is so pleasant;
and Mr. Palmer is excessively pleased with you and your sisters I can
tell you, and you can't think how disappointed he will be if you don't
come to Cleveland.--I can't imagine why you should object to it."

Elinor was again obliged to decline her invitation; and by changing the
subject, put a stop to her entreaties.  She thought it probable that as
they lived in the same county, Mrs. Palmer might be able to give some
more particular account of Willoughby's general character, than could
be gathered from the Middletons' partial acquaintance with him; and she
was eager to gain from any one, such a confirmation of his merits as
might remove the possibility of fear from Marianne.  She began by
inquiring if they saw much of Mr. Willoughby at Cleveland, and whether
they were intimately acquainted with him.

"Oh dear, yes; I know him extremely well," replied Mrs. Palmer;--"Not
that I ever spoke to him, indeed; but I have seen him for ever in town.
Somehow or other I never happened to be staying at Barton while he was
at Allenham.  Mama saw him here once before;--but I was with my uncle
at Weymouth.  However, I dare say we should have seen a great deal of
him in Somersetshire, if it had not happened very unluckily that we
should never have been in the country together.  He is very little at
Combe, I believe; but if he were ever so much there, I do not think Mr.
Palmer would visit him, for he is in the opposition, you know, and
besides it is such a way off.  I know why you inquire about him, very
well; your sister is to marry him.  I am monstrous glad of it, for then
I shall have her for a neighbour you know."

"Upon my word," replied Elinor, "you know much more of the matter than
I do, if you have any reason to expect such a match."

"Don't pretend to deny it, because you know it is what every body talks
of.  I assure you I heard of it in my way through town."

"My dear Mrs. Palmer!"

"Upon my honour I did.--I met Colonel Brandon Monday morning in
Bond-street, just before we left town, and he told me of it directly."

"You surprise me very much.  Colonel Brandon tell you of it!  Surely
you must be mistaken.  To give such intelligence to a person who could
not be interested in it, even if it were true, is not what I should
expect Colonel Brandon to do."

"But I do assure you it was so, for all that, and I will tell you how
it happened.  When we met him, he turned back and walked with us; and
so we began talking of my brother and sister, and one thing and
another, and I said to him, 'So, Colonel, there is a new family come to
Barton cottage, I hear, and mama sends me word they are very pretty,
and that one of them is going to be married to Mr. Willoughby of Combe
Magna.  Is it true, pray? for of course you must know, as you have been
in Devonshire so lately.'"

"And what did the Colonel say?"

"Oh--he did not say much; but he looked as if he knew it to be true, so
from that moment I set it down as certain.  It will be quite
delightful, I declare!  When is it to take place?"

"Mr. Brandon was very well I hope?"

"Oh! yes, quite well; and so full of your praises, he did nothing but
say fine things of you."

"I am flattered by his commendation.  He seems an excellent man; and I
think him uncommonly pleasing."

"So do I.--He is such a charming man, that it is quite a pity he should
be so grave and so dull.  Mama says HE was in love with your sister
too.-- I assure you it was a great compliment if he was, for he hardly
ever falls in love with any body."

"Is Mr. Willoughby much known in your part of Somersetshire?" said
Elinor.

"Oh! yes, extremely well; that is, I do not believe many people are
acquainted with him, because Combe Magna is so far off; but they all
think him extremely agreeable I assure you.  Nobody is more liked than
Mr. Willoughby wherever he goes, and so you may tell your sister.  She
is a monstrous lucky girl to get him, upon my honour; not but that he
is much more lucky in getting her, because she is so very handsome and
agreeable, that nothing can be good enough for her.  However, I don't
think her hardly at all handsomer than you, I assure you; for I think
you both excessively pretty, and so does Mr. Palmer too I am sure,
though we could not get him to own it last night."

Mrs. Palmer's information respecting Willoughby was not very material;
but any testimony in his favour, however small, was pleasing to her.

"I am so glad we are got acquainted at last," continued
Charlotte.--"And now I hope we shall always be great friends.  You
can't think how much I longed to see you!  It is so delightful that you
should live at the cottage!  Nothing can be like it, to be sure!  And I
am so glad your sister is going to be well married!  I hope you will be
a great deal at Combe Magna.  It is a sweet place, by all accounts."

"You have been long acquainted with Colonel Brandon, have not you?"

"Yes, a great while; ever since my sister married.-- He was a
particular friend of Sir John's. I believe," she added in a low voice,
"he would have been very glad to have had me, if he could.  Sir John
and Lady Middleton wished it very much.  But mama did not think the
match good enough for me, otherwise Sir John would have mentioned it to
the Colonel, and we should have been married immediately."

"Did not Colonel Brandon know of Sir John's proposal to your mother
before it was made?  Had he never owned his affection to yourself?"

"Oh, no; but if mama had not objected to it, I dare say he would have
liked it of all things.  He had not seen me then above twice, for it
was before I left school.  However, I am much happier as I am.  Mr.
Palmer is the kind of man I like."

Mrs. Palmer and Mrs. Jennings begin to encourage Marianne and Elinor to go to town for the winter, and the Dashwood girls politely decline the invitation; and it turns out that the Palmers live near Willoughby's estate at Combe Magna. Mr. Palmer shows his talent at making droll comments at the expense of his wife, Sir John, and Mrs. Jennings; Elinor is taken aback, but sees it as a misguided attempt to gain superiority in situations through ill-bred behavior. She inquires about Willoughby, and Mrs. Palmer says she is glad to hear that Marianne and Willoughby will be married. Mrs. Palmer says that people in town are talking about the match and that even Colonel Brandon thinks them engaged, which baffles Elinor since she does not know as much. But, Elinor is glad that Mrs. Palmer has a good opinion of Mr. Willoughby, which eases her mind on the subject of his character.

It is ironic that Elinor confessed to often being misled by people's opinions and statements about other people, and here puts some faith in Mrs. Palmer's vague but good opinion of Willoughby. It is in Elinor's best interests to think the best of him, but for all her caution, she is certainly not a perfect judge of character. Mr. and Mrs. Palmer are almost so ridiculous as characters as to have been designed as comic relief; there is much humor in Mrs. Palmer pretending that her husband is good-natured, when all he does is make rude comments to her and others. But, this behavior is also sad and cruel; it shows that Mrs. Palmer is too silly to admit her husband's disdain, and Mr. Palmer abuses her good nature and drives others away in the process

The Dashwood sisters show up dutifully at the Middletons' house, and Mrs. Palmer rushes over to greet them. Mrs. Palmer announces that she and her husband have to leave tomorrow, so she's glad that the girls came. Apparently their visit was a surprise to everyone, including herself. She hopes that they will meet again soon in town . The Dashwoods say that they won't be going to London - Mrs. Palmer is very disappointed, and invites them to come anytime, saying that she'll basically figure out all of the plans for their visit. Mrs. Palmer tries to get her husband in on convincing the girls, but he's uninterested, and instead starts complaining about the weather, and about the fact that Sir John doesn't have a billiard room at Barton. Everyone else shows up, and Sir John teases Marianne about how often she walks around Allenham, Willoughby's ancestral home. Marianne looks serious and doesn't respond. Mrs. Palmer tells her not to worry - she's familiar with Willoughby, since they're live in the same part of the countryside, and she thinks he's a very handsome man. Mr. Palmer, not to be outdone, says that Willoughby's other house is hideous. When everyone's at dinner together, the Dashwoods witness some rather awkward family dynamics between Mr. Palmer and his in-laws. He's a prickly customer, to put it mildly. Mrs. Palmer genuinely laughs off her husband's bad behavior - she loves him despite his rudeness. Elinor muses on Mr. Palmer's character; she ponders the fact that he, like many other men, has married a beautiful woman despite her silliness, and that he's never recovered it. However, that's not the cause of his irritability - that's just his personality. Mrs. Palmer asks the Dashwood girls to come and stay at Cleveland, her home in the country. She and Mr. Palmer bicker a little more - apparently he's running for Parliament, and has been going around trying to get people to like him . Later, Mrs. Palmer assures Elinor that Mr. Palmer likes her and her sister very much. Elinor asks about Willoughby - what do people think of him where the Palmers live? Mrs. Palmer, who claims to know Willoughby very well, despite the fact that they've never spoken, says that she can understand why Elinor is curious, since Marianne is supposedly going to marry him. Elinor is taken aback, and wants to know how Mrs. Palmer heard such a rumor. Of course, there's a ridiculous story attached - Mrs. Palmer ran into Colonel Brandon one day in London, and basically asked him to confirm the rumor that Marianne was to marry Willoughby. Colonel Brandon didn't say anything, but Mrs. Palmer assumed that this was a sign of agreement. The pair briefly discusses Colonel Brandon, whom Mrs. Palmer dismisses as nice but dull. Finally, Mrs. Palmer gets back to the original topic - Willoughby. Apparently, he has a good reputation in Somerset , and everyone likes him. Mrs. Palmer compliments both Elinor and Marianne, saying that they're both equally beautiful. Elinor and Charlotte go back to the subject of Colonel Brandon; Charlotte claims that he wanted to marry her back in the day, but it obviously didn't happen. She's happy with Mr. Palmer, anyway - he's apparently exactly what she wants.

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.