feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/gradesaver/Sense and Sensibility/section_1_part_8.txt
feat_book_id: Sense and Sensibility.chapter 18
feat_summary_id: chapter 18
feat_summary: {"name": "Chapter 18", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210419170735/https://www.gradesaver.com/sense-and-sensibility/study-guide/summary-chapters-11-20", "summary": "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.", "analysis": "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"}
text: 
  
  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.
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Chapter 18
target: 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.
feat_summary_analysis: 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