feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/sparknotes/Sense and Sensibility/section_7_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: Sense and Sensibility.chapters 33-36
feat_summary_id: chapters 33-36
feat_summary: {"name": "Chapters 33-36", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210123003206/https://www.sparknotes.com/lit/sensibility/section8/", "summary": "Elinor and Marianne go on an errand to Gray's, the jeweler in town. They are annoyed by the presence of an impertinent coxcomb who stands before them in line and orders an elaborate toothpick case. As Elinor at last conducts her business, her brother enters the shop. John Dashwood confesses that he has been in town for two days but has not had time to visit his sisters. The next day, John pays a visit to his sisters at Mrs. Jennings's home. He takes a long walk with Elinor, during which he informs her that he would be very glad if she married Colonel Brandon. Elinor assures him that she has no intentions of doing so, but John insists on the desirability of the match. He also comments that Mrs. Ferrars expects her son, Edward, to marry the wealthy daughter of Miss Morton. Finally, Edward notes that Marianne's appearance has declined considerably in her time of misery, and thus she will no longer be able to find quite so wealthy a husband. Fanny Dashwood is initially reluctant to visit the Dashwoods because she is unsure if Mrs. Jennings is sophisticated enough for her, but she consents upon hearing her husband's favorable report. Fanny enjoys the company of Mrs. Jennings, and especially enjoys the company of Lady Middleton. She decides to host a dinner party at her home on Harley Street. She invites the Dashwood sisters, Mrs. Jennings, the Middletons, Colonel Brandon, and Mrs. Ferrars. Elinor is very worried about meeting Edward at the dinner party, and is relieved to learn that he is unable to attend. She strongly dislikes Mrs. Ferrars, a sour and sallow woman who seems to care only about seeing her son Edward marry rich. After dinner, the ladies withdraw into the drawing room. Much to Elinor's dismay, the subject of conversation is Harry Dashwood and Lady Middleton's second son, William, and whether one is taller than the other. When the gentlemen guests enter the room, John Dashwood shows off to Colonel Brandon a pair of screens that Elinor painted as a gift for her brother's family. Mrs. Ferrars insults Elinor's artwork and Marianne, furious at Mrs. Ferrars's rudeness, rushes to her sister's public defense. Colonel Brandon admires the \"affectionate heart\" of this girl, who cannot bear to witness her sister slighted. Mrs. Jennings is called away urgently by her daughter Mrs. Charlotte Palmer, who is expecting the birth of a child. Meanwhile, Lucy Steele visits the Dashwoods to tell  Elinor how pleasantly surprised she was by Mrs. Ferrars's favorable behavior toward her  at the party. In the middle of their conversation, the servant suddenly announces the arrival of Mr. Ferrars, and Edward walks into the room. He looks immediately uncomfortable upon realizing that both Lucy and Elinor are in attendance. Marianne, who does not know anything about Lucy's claims of an attachment to Edward, expresses her tremendous joy at his arrival. Marianne is surprised when Edward leaves so soon after, and remarks to Elinor that she cannot understand why Lucy calls so frequently . Elinor, bound by her pledge of secrecy to Lucy, cannot offer a single word of explanation. Mrs. Palmer gives birth to a son and heir, to the great pride and joy of Mrs. Jennings. Mr. Palmer, however, seems unaffected by the birth of his son and insists that the baby looks like all the other babies he has ever seen. Fanny's friend, Mrs. Dennison, invites her and John to a musical party and extends the invitation to the Dashwood girls, under the mistaken assumption that the girls are living with their half-brother's family. There, Elinor is introduced to Mr. Robert Ferrars and discovers that he is the very same coxcomb who stood before her in line at the jewelers. At the party, it occurs to John to invite his sisters to stay at his house in London, but Fanny objects on the grounds that she had just been planning to invite Anne and Lucy Steele to visit. Elinor worries that perhaps this invitation is a sign that Fanny has decided to support Lucy's engagement to her brother, Edward.", "analysis": "Commentary Austen's biting wit is quite evident here: as the omniscient narrator, she makes direct comments about her characters, and, within the story, she has some of her characters commment on other, less favorable figures. The first, more direct display of her wit is exemplified by her comments about the dinner party, hosted by Mr. and Mrs. John Dashwood: John Dashwood had not much to say for himself that was worth hearing, and his wife still less. But there was no peculiar disgrace in this, for it was very much the case with the chief of their visitors, who almost all laboured under one or other of these disqualifications for being agreeable: want of sense, either natural or improved; want of elegance, want of spirits, or want of temper. She passes judgment on her characters by pretending to cast their most negative attributes in a positive light: John Dashwood has nothing to say for himself, but there is \"no particular disgrace\" in this because his company is just as insipid as he. Usually, these acerbic observations are presented through Elinor's eyes, but here Austen, at her cruelest, satirizes her characters directly. The more indirect display of Austen's wit is exemplified by the personality and behavior of Mr. Palmer. Just after the lengthy and elaborate debate between doting mothers about the relative heights of their children, Austen informs her readers that Mr. Palmer, the father of a newborn son, did not find his child to be different from any other newborn infant, \"nor could he  even be brought to acknowledge the simple proposition of its being the finest child in the world.\" Rather than informing her readers directly that Fanny Dashwood and Lady Middleton are irrational in their motherly affections, she accomplishes this through the character of Mr. Palmer, whose objectivity and indifference enable her to indirectly mock the mothers' excessive sentimentality. From Fanny's dinner party to Mrs. Dennison's musical party, these chapters underscore the extent to which a seemingly endless series of invitations governs the lives of the women in Austen's novel. The Dashwood women travel to Barton at the invitation of Sir John; Elinor and Marianne travel to London at the invitation of Mrs. Jennings; Marianne visits Willoughby's estate at Allenham at his invitation. Indeed, formal invitations to others' homes structure the social lives of all of Austen's heroines, and thus, although they travel frequently and widely, the wills of others circumscribe their mobility. In contrast, the men of the novel have agency in addition to mobility. They can come and go as they wish regardless of the invitations and expectations of others: Willoughby proclaims unexpectedly that he must go to Devonshire on business; Colonel Brandon suddenly interrupts the outing to Whitwell because he has urgent business in London; Edward comes and goes in no particular pattern. While the plot of the entire novel is structured around the physical movement of characters, only the male characters fully control their travels."}
text: 
  
  After some opposition, Marianne yielded to her sister's entreaties, and
  consented to go out with her and Mrs. Jennings one morning for half an
  hour. She expressly conditioned, however, for paying no visits, and
  would do no more than accompany them to Gray's in Sackville Street,
  where Elinor was carrying on a negotiation for the exchange of a few
  old-fashioned jewels of her mother.
  
  When they stopped at the door, Mrs. Jennings recollected that there was
  a lady at the other end of the street on whom she ought to call; and as
  she had no business at Gray's, it was resolved, that while her young
  friends transacted their's, she should pay her visit and return for
  them.
  
  On ascending the stairs, the Miss Dashwoods found so many people before
  them in the room, that there was not a person at liberty to tend to
  their orders; and they were obliged to wait.  All that could be done
  was, to sit down at that end of the counter which seemed to promise the
  quickest succession; one gentleman only was standing there, and it is
  probable that Elinor was not without hope of exciting his politeness to
  a quicker despatch.  But the correctness of his eye, and the delicacy
  of his taste, proved to be beyond his politeness.  He was giving orders
  for a toothpick-case for himself, and till its size, shape, and
  ornaments were determined, all of which, after examining and debating
  for a quarter of an hour over every toothpick-case in the shop, were
  finally arranged by his own inventive fancy, he had no leisure to
  bestow any other attention on the two ladies, than what was comprised
  in three or four very broad stares; a kind of notice which served to
  imprint on Elinor the remembrance of a person and face, of strong,
  natural, sterling insignificance, though adorned in the first style of
  fashion.
  
  Marianne was spared from the troublesome feelings of contempt and
  resentment, on this impertinent examination of their features, and on
  the puppyism of his manner in deciding on all the different horrors of
  the different toothpick-cases presented to his inspection, by remaining
  unconscious of it all; for she was as well able to collect her thoughts
  within herself, and be as ignorant of what was passing around her, in
  Mr. Gray's shop, as in her own bedroom.
  
  At last the affair was decided.  The ivory, the gold, and the pearls,
  all received their appointment, and the gentleman having named the last
  day on which his existence could be continued without the possession of
  the toothpick-case, drew on his gloves with leisurely care, and
  bestowing another glance on the Miss Dashwoods, but such a one as
  seemed rather to demand than express admiration, walked off with a
  happy air of real conceit and affected indifference.
  
  Elinor lost no time in bringing her business forward, was on the point
  of concluding it, when another gentleman presented himself at her side.
  She turned her eyes towards his face, and found him with some surprise
  to be her brother.
  
  Their affection and pleasure in meeting was just enough to make a very
  creditable appearance in Mr. Gray's shop.  John Dashwood was really far
  from being sorry to see his sisters again; it rather gave them
  satisfaction; and his inquiries after their mother were respectful and
  attentive.
  
  Elinor found that he and Fanny had been in town two days.
  
  "I wished very much to call upon you yesterday," said he, "but it was
  impossible, for we were obliged to take Harry to see the wild beasts at
  Exeter Exchange; and we spent the rest of the day with Mrs. Ferrars.
  Harry was vastly pleased.  THIS morning I had fully intended to call on
  you, if I could possibly find a spare half hour, but one has always so
  much to do on first coming to town.  I am come here to bespeak Fanny a
  seal.  But tomorrow I think I shall certainly be able to call in
  Berkeley Street, and be introduced to your friend Mrs. Jennings.  I
  understand she is a woman of very good fortune.  And the Middletons
  too, you must introduce me to THEM.  As my mother-in-law's relations, I
  shall be happy to show them every respect.  They are excellent
  neighbours to you in the country, I understand."
  
  "Excellent indeed.  Their attention to our comfort, their friendliness
  in every particular, is more than I can express."
  
  "I am extremely glad to hear it, upon my word; extremely glad indeed.
  But so it ought to be; they are people of large fortune, they are
  related to you, and every civility and accommodation that can serve to
  make your situation pleasant might be reasonably expected.  And so you
  are most comfortably settled in your little cottage and want for
  nothing!  Edward brought us a most charming account of the place: the
  most complete thing of its kind, he said, that ever was, and you all
  seemed to enjoy it beyond any thing.  It was a great satisfaction to us
  to hear it, I assure you."
  
  Elinor did feel a little ashamed of her brother; and was not sorry to
  be spared the necessity of answering him, by the arrival of Mrs.
  Jennings's servant, who came to tell her that his mistress waited for
  them at the door.
  
  Mr. Dashwood attended them down stairs, was introduced to Mrs. Jennings
  at the door of her carriage, and repeating his hope of being able to
  call on them the next day, took leave.
  
  His visit was duly paid.  He came with a pretence at an apology from
  their sister-in-law, for not coming too; "but she was so much engaged
  with her mother, that really she had no leisure for going any where."
  Mrs. Jennings, however, assured him directly, that she should not stand
  upon ceremony, for they were all cousins, or something like it, and she
  should certainly wait on Mrs. John Dashwood very soon, and bring her
  sisters to see her.  His manners to THEM, though calm, were perfectly
  kind; to Mrs. Jennings, most attentively civil; and on Colonel
  Brandon's coming in soon after himself, he eyed him with a curiosity
  which seemed to say, that he only wanted to know him to be rich, to be
  equally civil to HIM.
  
  After staying with them half an hour, he asked Elinor to walk with him
  to Conduit Street, and introduce him to Sir John and Lady Middleton.
  The weather was remarkably fine, and she readily consented.  As soon as
  they were out of the house, his enquiries began.
  
  "Who is Colonel Brandon?  Is he a man of fortune?"
  
  "Yes; he has very good property in Dorsetshire."
  
  "I am glad of it.  He seems a most gentlemanlike man; and I think,
  Elinor, I may congratulate you on the prospect of a very respectable
  establishment in life."
  
  "Me, brother! what do you mean?"
  
  "He likes you.  I observed him narrowly, and am convinced of it.  What
  is the amount of his fortune?"
  
  "I believe about two thousand a year."
  
  "Two thousand a-year;" and then working himself up to a pitch of
  enthusiastic generosity, he added, "Elinor, I wish with all my heart it
  were TWICE as much, for your sake."
  
  "Indeed I believe you," replied Elinor; "but I am very sure that
  Colonel Brandon has not the smallest wish of marrying ME."
  
  "You are mistaken, Elinor; you are very much mistaken.  A very little
  trouble on your side secures him.  Perhaps just at present he may be
  undecided; the smallness of your fortune may make him hang back; his
  friends may all advise him against it.  But some of those little
  attentions and encouragements which ladies can so easily give will fix
  him, in spite of himself.  And there can be no reason why you should
  not try for him.  It is not to be supposed that any prior attachment on
  your side--in short, you know as to an attachment of that kind, it is
  quite out of the question, the objections are insurmountable--you have
  too much sense not to see all that.  Colonel Brandon must be the man;
  and no civility shall be wanting on my part to make him pleased with
  you and your family.  It is a match that must give universal
  satisfaction.  In short, it is a kind of thing that"--lowering his
  voice to an important whisper--"will be exceedingly welcome to ALL
  PARTIES." Recollecting himself, however, he added, "That is, I mean to
  say--your friends are all truly anxious to see you well settled; Fanny
  particularly, for she has your interest very much at heart, I assure
  you.  And her mother too, Mrs. Ferrars, a very good-natured woman, I am
  sure it would give her great pleasure; she said as much the other day."
  
  Elinor would not vouchsafe any answer.
  
  "It would be something remarkable, now," he continued, "something
  droll, if Fanny should have a brother and I a sister settling at the
  same time.  And yet it is not very unlikely."
  
  "Is Mr. Edward Ferrars," said Elinor, with resolution, "going to be
  married?"
  
  "It is not actually settled, but there is such a thing in agitation.
  He has a most excellent mother.  Mrs. Ferrars, with the utmost
  liberality, will come forward, and settle on him a thousand a year, if
  the match takes place.  The lady is the Hon. Miss Morton, only daughter
  of the late Lord Morton, with thirty thousand pounds.  A very desirable
  connection on both sides, and I have not a doubt of its taking place in
  time.  A thousand a-year is a great deal for a mother to give away, to
  make over for ever; but Mrs. Ferrars has a noble spirit.  To give you
  another instance of her liberality:--The other day, as soon as we came
  to town, aware that money could not be very plenty with us just now,
  she put bank-notes into Fanny's hands to the amount of two hundred
  pounds.  And extremely acceptable it is, for we must live at a great
  expense while we are here."
  
  He paused for her assent and compassion; and she forced herself to say,
  
  "Your expenses both in town and country must certainly be considerable;
  but your income is a large one."
  
  "Not so large, I dare say, as many people suppose.  I do not mean to
  complain, however; it is undoubtedly a comfortable one, and I hope will
  in time be better.  The enclosure of Norland Common, now carrying on,
  is a most serious drain.  And then I have made a little purchase within
  this half year; East Kingham Farm, you must remember the place, where
  old Gibson used to live.  The land was so very desirable for me in
  every respect, so immediately adjoining my own property, that I felt it
  my duty to buy it.  I could not have answered it to my conscience to
  let it fall into any other hands.  A man must pay for his convenience;
  and it HAS cost me a vast deal of money."
  
  "More than you think it really and intrinsically worth."
  
  "Why, I hope not that.  I might have sold it again, the next day, for
  more than I gave: but, with regard to the purchase-money, I might have
  been very unfortunate indeed; for the stocks were at that time so low,
  that if I had not happened to have the necessary sum in my banker's
  hands, I must have sold out to very great loss."
  
  Elinor could only smile.
  
  "Other great and inevitable expenses too we have had on first coming to
  Norland.  Our respected father, as you well know, bequeathed all the
  Stanhill effects that remained at Norland (and very valuable they were)
  to your mother.  Far be it from me to repine at his doing so; he had an
  undoubted right to dispose of his own property as he chose, but, in
  consequence of it, we have been obliged to make large purchases of
  linen, china, &c. to supply the place of what was taken away.  You may
  guess, after all these expenses, how very far we must be from being
  rich, and how acceptable Mrs. Ferrars's kindness is."
  
  "Certainly," said Elinor; "and assisted by her liberality, I hope you
  may yet live to be in easy circumstances."
  
  "Another year or two may do much towards it," he gravely replied; "but
  however there is still a great deal to be done.  There is not a stone
  laid of Fanny's green-house, and nothing but the plan of the
  flower-garden marked out."
  
  "Where is the green-house to be?"
  
  "Upon the knoll behind the house.  The old walnut trees are all come
  down to make room for it.  It will be a very fine object from many
  parts of the park, and the flower-garden will slope down just before
  it, and be exceedingly pretty.  We have cleared away all the old thorns
  that grew in patches over the brow."
  
  Elinor kept her concern and her censure to herself; and was very
  thankful that Marianne was not present, to share the provocation.
  
  Having now said enough to make his poverty clear, and to do away the
  necessity of buying a pair of ear-rings for each of his sisters, in his
  next visit at Gray's his thoughts took a cheerfuller turn, and he began
  to congratulate Elinor on having such a friend as Mrs. Jennings.
  
  "She seems a most valuable woman indeed--Her house, her style of
  living, all bespeak an exceeding good income; and it is an acquaintance
  that has not only been of great use to you hitherto, but in the end may
  prove materially advantageous.--Her inviting you to town is certainly a
  vast thing in your favour; and indeed, it speaks altogether so great a
  regard for you, that in all probability when she dies you will not be
  forgotten.-- She must have a great deal to leave."
  
  "Nothing at all, I should rather suppose; for she has only her
  jointure, which will descend to her children."
  
  "But it is not to be imagined that she lives up to her income.  Few
  people of common prudence will do THAT; and whatever she saves, she
  will be able to dispose of."
  
  "And do you not think it more likely that she should leave it to her
  daughters, than to us?"
  
  "Her daughters are both exceedingly well married, and therefore I
  cannot perceive the necessity of her remembering them farther.
  Whereas, in my opinion, by her taking so much notice of you, and
  treating you in this kind of way, she has given you a sort of claim on
  her future consideration, which a conscientious woman would not
  disregard.  Nothing can be kinder than her behaviour; and she can
  hardly do all this, without being aware of the expectation it raises."
  
  "But she raises none in those most concerned.  Indeed, brother, your
  anxiety for our welfare and prosperity carries you too far."
  
  "Why, to be sure," said he, seeming to recollect himself, "people have
  little, have very little in their power.  But, my dear Elinor, what is
  the matter with Marianne?-- she looks very unwell, has lost her colour,
  and is grown quite thin.  Is she ill?"
  
  "She is not well, she has had a nervous complaint on her for several
  weeks."
  
  "I am sorry for that.  At her time of life, any thing of an illness
  destroys the bloom for ever!  Hers has been a very short one!  She was
  as handsome a girl last September, as I ever saw; and as likely to
  attract the man.  There was something in her style of beauty, to please
  them particularly.  I remember Fanny used to say that she would marry
  sooner and better than you did; not but what she is exceedingly fond of
  YOU, but so it happened to strike her.  She will be mistaken, however.
  I question whether Marianne NOW, will marry a man worth more than five
  or six hundred a-year, at the utmost, and I am very much deceived if
  YOU do not do better.  Dorsetshire!  I know very little of Dorsetshire;
  but, my dear Elinor, I shall be exceedingly glad to know more of it;
  and I think I can answer for your having Fanny and myself among the
  earliest and best pleased of your visitors."
  
  Elinor tried very seriously to convince him that there was no
  likelihood of her marrying Colonel Brandon; but it was an expectation
  of too much pleasure to himself to be relinquished, and he was really
  resolved on seeking an intimacy with that gentleman, and promoting the
  marriage by every possible attention.  He had just compunction enough
  for having done nothing for his sisters himself, to be exceedingly
  anxious that everybody else should do a great deal; and an offer from
  Colonel Brandon, or a legacy from Mrs. Jennings, was the easiest means
  of atoning for his own neglect.
  
  They were lucky enough to find Lady Middleton at home, and Sir John
  came in before their visit ended.  Abundance of civilities passed on
  all sides.  Sir John was ready to like anybody, and though Mr. Dashwood
  did not seem to know much about horses, he soon set him down as a very
  good-natured fellow: while Lady Middleton saw enough of fashion in his
  appearance to think his acquaintance worth having; and Mr. Dashwood
  went away delighted with both.
  
  "I shall have a charming account to carry to Fanny," said he, as he
  walked back with his sister.  "Lady Middleton is really a most elegant
  woman!  Such a woman as I am sure Fanny will be glad to know.  And Mrs.
  Jennings too, an exceedingly well-behaved woman, though not so elegant
  as her daughter.  Your sister need not have any scruple even of
  visiting HER, which, to say the truth, has been a little the case, and
  very naturally; for we only knew that Mrs. Jennings was the widow of a
  man who had got all his money in a low way; and Fanny and Mrs. Ferrars
  were both strongly prepossessed, that neither she nor her daughters
  were such kind of women as Fanny would like to associate with.  But now
  I can carry her a most satisfactory account of both."
  
  
  
  
  Mrs. John Dashwood had so much confidence in her husband's judgment,
  that she waited the very next day both on Mrs. Jennings and her
  daughter; and her confidence was rewarded by finding even the former,
  even the woman with whom her sisters were staying, by no means unworthy
  her notice; and as for Lady Middleton, she found her one of the most
  charming women in the world!
  
  Lady Middleton was equally pleased with Mrs. Dashwood.  There was a
  kind of cold hearted selfishness on both sides, which mutually
  attracted them; and they sympathised with each other in an insipid
  propriety of demeanor, and a general want of understanding.
  
  The same manners, however, which recommended Mrs. John Dashwood to the
  good opinion of Lady Middleton did not suit the fancy of Mrs. Jennings,
  and to HER she appeared nothing more than a little proud-looking woman
  of uncordial address, who met her husband's sisters without any
  affection, and almost without having anything to say to them; for of
  the quarter of an hour bestowed on Berkeley Street, she sat at least
  seven minutes and a half in silence.
  
  Elinor wanted very much to know, though she did not chuse to ask,
  whether Edward was then in town; but nothing would have induced Fanny
  voluntarily to mention his name before her, till able to tell her that
  his marriage with Miss Morton was resolved on, or till her husband's
  expectations on Colonel Brandon were answered; because she believed
  them still so very much attached to each other, that they could not be
  too sedulously divided in word and deed on every occasion.  The
  intelligence however, which SHE would not give, soon flowed from
  another quarter.  Lucy came very shortly to claim Elinor's compassion
  on being unable to see Edward, though he had arrived in town with Mr.
  and Mrs. Dashwood.  He dared not come to Bartlett's Buildings for fear
  of detection, and though their mutual impatience to meet, was not to be
  told, they could do nothing at present but write.
  
  Edward assured them himself of his being in town, within a very short
  time, by twice calling in Berkeley Street.  Twice was his card found on
  the table, when they returned from their morning's engagements.  Elinor
  was pleased that he had called; and still more pleased that she had
  missed him.
  
  The Dashwoods were so prodigiously delighted with the Middletons, that,
  though not much in the habit of giving anything, they determined to
  give them--a dinner; and soon after their acquaintance began, invited
  them to dine in Harley Street, where they had taken a very good house
  for three months.  Their sisters and Mrs. Jennings were invited
  likewise, and John Dashwood was careful to secure Colonel Brandon, who,
  always glad to be where the Miss Dashwoods were, received his eager
  civilities with some surprise, but much more pleasure.  They were to
  meet Mrs. Ferrars; but Elinor could not learn whether her sons were to
  be of the party.  The expectation of seeing HER, however, was enough to
  make her interested in the engagement; for though she could now meet
  Edward's mother without that strong anxiety which had once promised to
  attend such an introduction, though she could now see her with perfect
  indifference as to her opinion of herself, her desire of being in
  company with Mrs. Ferrars, her curiosity to know what she was like, was
  as lively as ever.
  
  The interest with which she thus anticipated the party, was soon
  afterwards increased, more powerfully than pleasantly, by her hearing
  that the Miss Steeles were also to be at it.
  
  So well had they recommended themselves to Lady Middleton, so agreeable
  had their assiduities made them to her, that though Lucy was certainly
  not so elegant, and her sister not even genteel, she was as ready as
  Sir John to ask them to spend a week or two in Conduit Street; and it
  happened to be particularly convenient to the Miss Steeles, as soon as
  the Dashwoods' invitation was known, that their visit should begin a
  few days before the party took place.
  
  Their claims to the notice of Mrs. John Dashwood, as the nieces of the
  gentleman who for many years had had the care of her brother, might not
  have done much, however, towards procuring them seats at her table; but
  as Lady Middleton's guests they must be welcome; and Lucy, who had long
  wanted to be personally known to the family, to have a nearer view of
  their characters and her own difficulties, and to have an opportunity
  of endeavouring to please them, had seldom been happier in her life,
  than she was on receiving Mrs. John Dashwood's card.
  
  On Elinor its effect was very different.  She began immediately to
  determine, that Edward who lived with his mother, must be asked as his
  mother was, to a party given by his sister; and to see him for the
  first time, after all that passed, in the company of Lucy!--she hardly
  knew how she could bear it!
  
  These apprehensions, perhaps, were not founded entirely on reason, and
  certainly not at all on truth.  They were relieved however, not by her
  own recollection, but by the good will of Lucy, who believed herself to
  be inflicting a severe disappointment when she told her that Edward
  certainly would not be in Harley Street on Tuesday, and even hoped to
  be carrying the pain still farther by persuading her that he was kept
  away by the extreme affection for herself, which he could not conceal
  when they were together.
  
  The important Tuesday came that was to introduce the two young ladies
  to this formidable mother-in-law.
  
  "Pity me, dear Miss Dashwood!" said Lucy, as they walked up the stairs
  together--for the Middletons arrived so directly after Mrs. Jennings,
  that they all followed the servant at the same time--"There is nobody
  here but you, that can feel for me.--I declare I can hardly stand.
  Good gracious!--In a moment I shall see the person that all my
  happiness depends on--that is to be my mother!"--
  
  Elinor could have given her immediate relief by suggesting the
  possibility of its being Miss Morton's mother, rather than her own,
  whom they were about to behold; but instead of doing that, she assured
  her, and with great sincerity, that she did pity her--to the utter
  amazement of Lucy, who, though really uncomfortable herself, hoped at
  least to be an object of irrepressible envy to Elinor.
  
  Mrs. Ferrars was a little, thin woman, upright, even to formality, in
  her figure, and serious, even to sourness, in her aspect.  Her
  complexion was sallow; and her features small, without beauty, and
  naturally without expression; but a lucky contraction of the brow had
  rescued her countenance from the disgrace of insipidity, by giving it
  the strong characters of pride and ill nature.  She was not a woman of
  many words; for, unlike people in general, she proportioned them to the
  number of her ideas; and of the few syllables that did escape her, not
  one fell to the share of Miss Dashwood, whom she eyed with the spirited
  determination of disliking her at all events.
  
  Elinor could not NOW be made unhappy by this behaviour.-- A few months
  ago it would have hurt her exceedingly; but it was not in Mrs. Ferrars'
  power to distress her by it now;--and the difference of her manners to
  the Miss Steeles, a difference which seemed purposely made to humble
  her more, only amused her.  She could not but smile to see the
  graciousness of both mother and daughter towards the very person-- for
  Lucy was particularly distinguished--whom of all others, had they known
  as much as she did, they would have been most anxious to mortify; while
  she herself, who had comparatively no power to wound them, sat
  pointedly slighted by both.  But while she smiled at a graciousness so
  misapplied, she could not reflect on the mean-spirited folly from which
  it sprung, nor observe the studied attentions with which the Miss
  Steeles courted its continuance, without thoroughly despising them all
  four.
  
  Lucy was all exultation on being so honorably distinguished; and Miss
  Steele wanted only to be teazed about Dr. Davies to be perfectly happy.
  
  The dinner was a grand one, the servants were numerous, and every thing
  bespoke the Mistress's inclination for show, and the Master's ability
  to support it.  In spite of the improvements and additions which were
  making to the Norland estate, and in spite of its owner having once
  been within some thousand pounds of being obliged to sell out at a
  loss, nothing gave any symptom of that indigence which he had tried to
  infer from it;--no poverty of any kind, except of conversation,
  appeared--but there, the deficiency was considerable.  John Dashwood
  had not much to say for himself that was worth hearing, and his wife
  had still less.  But there was no peculiar disgrace in this; for it was
  very much the case with the chief of their visitors, who almost all
  laboured under one or other of these disqualifications for being
  agreeable--Want of sense, either natural or improved--want of
  elegance--want of spirits--or want of temper.
  
  When the ladies withdrew to the drawing-room after dinner, this poverty
  was particularly evident, for the gentlemen HAD supplied the discourse
  with some variety--the variety of politics, inclosing land, and
  breaking horses--but then it was all over; and one subject only engaged
  the ladies till coffee came in, which was the comparative heights of
  Harry Dashwood, and Lady Middleton's second son William, who were
  nearly of the same age.
  
  Had both the children been there, the affair might have been determined
  too easily by measuring them at once; but as Harry only was present, it
  was all conjectural assertion on both sides; and every body had a right
  to be equally positive in their opinion, and to repeat it over and over
  again as often as they liked.
  
  The parties stood thus:
  
  The two mothers, though each really convinced that her own son was the
  tallest, politely decided in favour of the other.
  
  The two grandmothers, with not less partiality, but more sincerity,
  were equally earnest in support of their own descendant.
  
  Lucy, who was hardly less anxious to please one parent than the other,
  thought the boys were both remarkably tall for their age, and could not
  conceive that there could be the smallest difference in the world
  between them; and Miss Steele, with yet greater address gave it, as
  fast as she could, in favour of each.
  
  Elinor, having once delivered her opinion on William's side, by which
  she offended Mrs. Ferrars and Fanny still more, did not see the
  necessity of enforcing it by any farther assertion; and Marianne, when
  called on for hers, offended them all, by declaring that she had no
  opinion to give, as she had never thought about it.
  
  Before her removing from Norland, Elinor had painted a very pretty pair
  of screens for her sister-in-law, which being now just mounted and
  brought home, ornamented her present drawing room; and these screens,
  catching the eye of John Dashwood on his following the other gentlemen
  into the room, were officiously handed by him to Colonel Brandon for
  his admiration.
  
  "These are done by my eldest sister," said he; "and you, as a man of
  taste, will, I dare say, be pleased with them.  I do not know whether
  you have ever happened to see any of her performances before, but she
  is in general reckoned to draw extremely well."
  
  The Colonel, though disclaiming all pretensions to connoisseurship,
  warmly admired the screens, as he would have done any thing painted by
  Miss Dashwood; and on the curiosity of the others being of course
  excited, they were handed round for general inspection.  Mrs. Ferrars,
  not aware of their being Elinor's work, particularly requested to look
  at them; and after they had received gratifying testimony of Lady
  Middletons's approbation, Fanny presented them to her mother,
  considerately informing her, at the same time, that they were done by
  Miss Dashwood.
  
  "Hum"--said Mrs. Ferrars--"very pretty,"--and without regarding them at
  all, returned them to her daughter.
  
  Perhaps Fanny thought for a moment that her mother had been quite rude
  enough,--for, colouring a little, she immediately said,
  
  "They are very pretty, ma'am--an't they?" But then again, the dread of
  having been too civil, too encouraging herself, probably came over her,
  for she presently added,
  
  "Do you not think they are something in Miss Morton's style of
  painting, Ma'am?--She DOES paint most delightfully!--How beautifully
  her last landscape is done!"
  
  "Beautifully indeed!  But SHE does every thing well."
  
  Marianne could not bear this.--She was already greatly displeased with
  Mrs. Ferrars; and such ill-timed praise of another, at Elinor's
  expense, though she had not any notion of what was principally meant by
  it, provoked her immediately to say with warmth,
  
  "This is admiration of a very particular kind!--what is Miss Morton to
  us?--who knows, or who cares, for her?--it is Elinor of whom WE think
  and speak."
  
  And so saying, she took the screens out of her sister-in-law's hands,
  to admire them herself as they ought to be admired.
  
  Mrs. Ferrars looked exceedingly angry, and drawing herself up more
  stiffly than ever, pronounced in retort this bitter philippic, "Miss
  Morton is Lord Morton's daughter."
  
  Fanny looked very angry too, and her husband was all in a fright at his
  sister's audacity.  Elinor was much more hurt by Marianne's warmth than
  she had been by what produced it; but Colonel Brandon's eyes, as they
  were fixed on Marianne, declared that he noticed only what was amiable
  in it, the affectionate heart which could not bear to see a sister
  slighted in the smallest point.
  
  Marianne's feelings did not stop here.  The cold insolence of Mrs.
  Ferrars's general behaviour to her sister, seemed, to her, to foretell
  such difficulties and distresses to Elinor, as her own wounded heart
  taught her to think of with horror; and urged by a strong impulse of
  affectionate sensibility, she moved after a moment, to her sister's
  chair, and putting one arm round her neck, and one cheek close to hers,
  said in a low, but eager, voice,
  
  "Dear, dear Elinor, don't mind them.  Don't let them make YOU unhappy."
  
  She could say no more; her spirits were quite overcome, and hiding her
  face on Elinor's shoulder, she burst into tears.  Every body's
  attention was called, and almost every body was concerned.--Colonel
  Brandon rose up and went to them without knowing what he did.--Mrs.
  Jennings, with a very intelligent "Ah! poor dear," immediately gave her
  her salts; and Sir John felt so desperately enraged against the author
  of this nervous distress, that he instantly changed his seat to one
  close by Lucy Steele, and gave her, in a whisper, a brief account of
  the whole shocking affair.
  
  In a few minutes, however, Marianne was recovered enough to put an end
  to the bustle, and sit down among the rest; though her spirits retained
  the impression of what had passed, the whole evening.
  
  "Poor Marianne!" said her brother to Colonel Brandon, in a low voice,
  as soon as he could secure his attention,-- "She has not such good
  health as her sister,--she is very nervous,--she has not Elinor's
  constitution;--and one must allow that there is something very trying
  to a young woman who HAS BEEN a beauty in the loss of her personal
  attractions.  You would not think it perhaps, but Marianne WAS
  remarkably handsome a few months ago; quite as handsome as Elinor.--
  Now you see it is all gone."
  
  
  
  
  Elinor's curiosity to see Mrs. Ferrars was satisfied.-- She had found
  in her every thing that could tend to make a farther connection between
  the families undesirable.-- She had seen enough of her pride, her
  meanness, and her determined prejudice against herself, to comprehend
  all the difficulties that must have perplexed the engagement, and
  retarded the marriage, of Edward and herself, had he been otherwise
  free;--and she had seen almost enough to be thankful for her OWN sake,
  that one greater obstacle preserved her from suffering under any other
  of Mrs. Ferrars's creation, preserved her from all dependence upon her
  caprice, or any solicitude for her good opinion.  Or at least, if she
  did not bring herself quite to rejoice in Edward's being fettered to
  Lucy, she determined, that had Lucy been more amiable, she OUGHT to
  have rejoiced.
  
  She wondered that Lucy's spirits could be so very much elevated by the
  civility of Mrs. Ferrars;--that her interest and her vanity should so
  very much blind her as to make the attention which seemed only paid her
  because she was NOT ELINOR, appear a compliment to herself--or to allow
  her to derive encouragement from a preference only given her, because
  her real situation was unknown.  But that it was so, had not only been
  declared by Lucy's eyes at the time, but was declared over again the
  next morning more openly, for at her particular desire, Lady Middleton
  set her down in Berkeley Street on the chance of seeing Elinor alone,
  to tell her how happy she was.
  
  The chance proved a lucky one, for a message from Mrs. Palmer soon
  after she arrived, carried Mrs. Jennings away.
  
  "My dear friend," cried Lucy, as soon as they were by themselves, "I
  come to talk to you of my happiness.  Could anything be so flattering
  as Mrs. Ferrars's way of treating me yesterday?  So exceeding affable
  as she was!--You know how I dreaded the thoughts of seeing her;--but
  the very moment I was introduced, there was such an affability in her
  behaviour as really should seem to say, she had quite took a fancy to
  me.  Now was not it so?-- You saw it all; and was not you quite struck
  with it?"
  
  "She was certainly very civil to you."
  
  "Civil!--Did you see nothing but only civility?-- I saw a vast deal
  more.  Such kindness as fell to the share of nobody but me!--No pride,
  no hauteur, and your sister just the same--all sweetness and
  affability!"
  
  Elinor wished to talk of something else, but Lucy still pressed her to
  own that she had reason for her happiness; and Elinor was obliged to go
  on.--
  
  "Undoubtedly, if they had known your engagement," said she, "nothing
  could be more flattering than their treatment of you;--but as that was
  not the case"--
  
  "I guessed you would say so,"--replied Lucy quickly--"but there was no
  reason in the world why Mrs. Ferrars should seem to like me, if she did
  not, and her liking me is every thing.  You shan't talk me out of my
  satisfaction.  I am sure it will all end well, and there will be no
  difficulties at all, to what I used to think.  Mrs. Ferrars is a
  charming woman, and so is your sister.  They are both delightful women,
  indeed!--I wonder I should never hear you say how agreeable Mrs.
  Dashwood was!"
  
  To this Elinor had no answer to make, and did not attempt any.
  
  "Are you ill, Miss Dashwood?--you seem low--you don't speak;--sure you
  an't well."
  
  "I never was in better health."
  
  "I am glad of it with all my heart; but really you did not look it.  I
  should be sorry to have YOU ill; you, that have been the greatest
  comfort to me in the world!--Heaven knows what I should have done
  without your friendship."--
  
  Elinor tried to make a civil answer, though doubting her own success.
  But it seemed to satisfy Lucy, for she directly replied,
  
  "Indeed I am perfectly convinced of your regard for me, and next to
  Edward's love, it is the greatest comfort I have.--Poor Edward!--But
  now there is one good thing, we shall be able to meet, and meet pretty
  often, for Lady Middleton's delighted with Mrs. Dashwood, so we shall
  be a good deal in Harley Street, I dare say, and Edward spends half his
  time with his sister--besides, Lady Middleton and Mrs. Ferrars will
  visit now;--and Mrs. Ferrars and your sister were both so good to say
  more than once, they should always be glad to see me.-- They are such
  charming women!--I am sure if ever you tell your sister what I think of
  her, you cannot speak too high."
  
  But Elinor would not give her any encouragement to hope that she SHOULD
  tell her sister.  Lucy continued.
  
  "I am sure I should have seen it in a moment, if Mrs. Ferrars had took
  a dislike to me.  If she had only made me a formal courtesy, for
  instance, without saying a word, and never after had took any notice of
  me, and never looked at me in a pleasant way--you know what I mean--if
  I had been treated in that forbidding sort of way, I should have gave
  it all up in despair.  I could not have stood it.  For where she DOES
  dislike, I know it is most violent."
  
  Elinor was prevented from making any reply to this civil triumph, by
  the door's being thrown open, the servant's announcing Mr. Ferrars, and
  Edward's immediately walking in.
  
  It was a very awkward moment; and the countenance of each shewed that
  it was so.  They all looked exceedingly foolish; and Edward seemed to
  have as great an inclination to walk out of the room again, as to
  advance farther into it.  The very circumstance, in its unpleasantest
  form, which they would each have been most anxious to avoid, had fallen
  on them.--They were not only all three together, but were together
  without the relief of any other person.  The ladies recovered
  themselves first.  It was not Lucy's business to put herself forward,
  and the appearance of secrecy must still be kept up.  She could
  therefore only LOOK her tenderness, and after slightly addressing him,
  said no more.
  
  But Elinor had more to do; and so anxious was she, for his sake and her
  own, to do it well, that she forced herself, after a moment's
  recollection, to welcome him, with a look and manner that were almost
  easy, and almost open; and another struggle, another effort still
  improved them.  She would not allow the presence of Lucy, nor the
  consciousness of some injustice towards herself, to deter her from
  saying that she was happy to see him, and that she had very much
  regretted being from home, when he called before in Berkeley Street.
  She would not be frightened from paying him those attentions which, as
  a friend and almost a relation, were his due, by the observant eyes of
  Lucy, though she soon perceived them to be narrowly watching her.
  
  Her manners gave some re-assurance to Edward, and he had courage enough
  to sit down; but his embarrassment still exceeded that of the ladies in
  a proportion, which the case rendered reasonable, though his sex might
  make it rare; for his heart had not the indifference of Lucy's, nor
  could his conscience have quite the ease of Elinor's.
  
  Lucy, with a demure and settled air, seemed determined to make no
  contribution to the comfort of the others, and would not say a word;
  and almost every thing that WAS said, proceeded from Elinor, who was
  obliged to volunteer all the information about her mother's health,
  their coming to town, &c. which Edward ought to have inquired about,
  but never did.
  
  Her exertions did not stop here; for she soon afterwards felt herself
  so heroically disposed as to determine, under pretence of fetching
  Marianne, to leave the others by themselves; and she really did it, and
  THAT in the handsomest manner, for she loitered away several minutes on
  the landing-place, with the most high-minded fortitude, before she went
  to her sister.  When that was once done, however, it was time for the
  raptures of Edward to cease; for Marianne's joy hurried her into the
  drawing-room immediately.  Her pleasure in seeing him was like every
  other of her feelings, strong in itself, and strongly spoken.  She met
  him with a hand that would be taken, and a voice that expressed the
  affection of a sister.
  
  "Dear Edward!" she cried, "this is a moment of great happiness!--This
  would almost make amends for every thing!"
  
  Edward tried to return her kindness as it deserved, but before such
  witnesses he dared not say half what he really felt.  Again they all
  sat down, and for a moment or two all were silent; while Marianne was
  looking with the most speaking tenderness, sometimes at Edward and
  sometimes at Elinor, regretting only that their delight in each other
  should be checked by Lucy's unwelcome presence.  Edward was the first
  to speak, and it was to notice Marianne's altered looks, and express
  his fear of her not finding London agree with her.
  
  "Oh, don't think of me!" she replied with spirited earnestness, though
  her eyes were filled with tears as she spoke, "don't think of MY
  health.  Elinor is well, you see.  That must be enough for us both."
  
  This remark was not calculated to make Edward or Elinor more easy, nor
  to conciliate the good will of Lucy, who looked up at Marianne with no
  very benignant expression.
  
  "Do you like London?" said Edward, willing to say any thing that might
  introduce another subject.
  
  "Not at all.  I expected much pleasure in it, but I have found none.
  The sight of you, Edward, is the only comfort it has afforded; and
  thank Heaven! you are what you always were!"
  
  She paused--no one spoke.
  
  "I think, Elinor," she presently added, "we must employ Edward to take
  care of us in our return to Barton.  In a week or two, I suppose, we
  shall be going; and, I trust, Edward will not be very unwilling to
  accept the charge."
  
  Poor Edward muttered something, but what it was, nobody knew, not even
  himself.  But Marianne, who saw his agitation, and could easily trace
  it to whatever cause best pleased herself, was perfectly satisfied, and
  soon talked of something else.
  
  "We spent such a day, Edward, in Harley Street yesterday!  So dull, so
  wretchedly dull!--But I have much to say to you on that head, which
  cannot be said now."
  
  And with this admirable discretion did she defer the assurance of her
  finding their mutual relatives more disagreeable than ever, and of her
  being particularly disgusted with his mother, till they were more in
  private.
  
  "But why were you not there, Edward?--Why did you not come?"
  
  "I was engaged elsewhere."
  
  "Engaged!  But what was that, when such friends were to be met?"
  
  "Perhaps, Miss Marianne," cried Lucy, eager to take some revenge on
  her, "you think young men never stand upon engagements, if they have no
  mind to keep them, little as well as great."
  
  Elinor was very angry, but Marianne seemed entirely insensible of the
  sting; for she calmly replied,
  
  "Not so, indeed; for, seriously speaking, I am very sure that
  conscience only kept Edward from Harley Street.  And I really believe
  he HAS the most delicate conscience in the world; the most scrupulous
  in performing every engagement, however minute, and however it may make
  against his interest or pleasure.  He is the most fearful of giving
  pain, of wounding expectation, and the most incapable of being selfish,
  of any body I ever saw.  Edward, it is so, and I will say it.  What!
  are you never to hear yourself praised!--Then you must be no friend of
  mine; for those who will accept of my love and esteem, must submit to
  my open commendation."
  
  The nature of her commendation, in the present case, however, happened
  to be particularly ill-suited to the feelings of two thirds of her
  auditors, and was so very unexhilarating to Edward, that he very soon
  got up to go away.
  
  "Going so soon!" said Marianne; "my dear Edward, this must not be."
  
  And drawing him a little aside, she whispered her persuasion that Lucy
  could not stay much longer.  But even this encouragement failed, for he
  would go; and Lucy, who would have outstaid him, had his visit lasted
  two hours, soon afterwards went away.
  
  "What can bring her here so often?" said Marianne, on her leaving them.
  "Could not she see that we wanted her gone!--how teazing to Edward!"
  
  "Why so?--we were all his friends, and Lucy has been the longest known
  to him of any.  It is but natural that he should like to see her as
  well as ourselves."
  
  Marianne looked at her steadily, and said, "You know, Elinor, that this
  is a kind of talking which I cannot bear.  If you only hope to have
  your assertion contradicted, as I must suppose to be the case, you
  ought to recollect that I am the last person in the world to do it.  I
  cannot descend to be tricked out of assurances, that are not really
  wanted."
  
  She then left the room; and Elinor dared not follow her to say more,
  for bound as she was by her promise of secrecy to Lucy, she could give
  no information that would convince Marianne; and painful as the
  consequences of her still continuing in an error might be, she was
  obliged to submit to it.  All that she could hope, was that Edward
  would not often expose her or himself to the distress of hearing
  Marianne's mistaken warmth, nor to the repetition of any other part of
  the pain that had attended their recent meeting--and this she had every
  reason to expect.
  
  
  
  
  Within a few days after this meeting, the newspapers announced to the
  world, that the lady of Thomas Palmer, Esq. was safely delivered of a
  son and heir; a very interesting and satisfactory paragraph, at least
  to all those intimate connections who knew it before.
  
  This event, highly important to Mrs. Jennings's happiness, produced a
  temporary alteration in the disposal of her time, and influenced, in a
  like degree, the engagements of her young friends; for as she wished to
  be as much as possible with Charlotte, she went thither every morning as
  soon as she was dressed, and did not return till late in the evening;
  and the Miss Dashwoods, at the particular request of the Middletons,
  spent the whole of every day in Conduit Street. For their own comfort
  they would much rather have remained, at least all the morning, in Mrs.
  Jennings's house; but it was not a thing to be urged against the wishes
  of everybody. Their hours were therefore made over to Lady Middleton and
  the two Miss Steeles, by whom their company, in fact was as little
  valued, as it was professedly sought.
  
  They had too much sense to be desirable companions to the former; and
  by the latter they were considered with a jealous eye, as intruding on
  THEIR ground, and sharing the kindness which they wanted to monopolize.
  Though nothing could be more polite than Lady Middleton's behaviour to
  Elinor and Marianne, she did not really like them at all.  Because they
  neither flattered herself nor her children, she could not believe them
  good-natured; and because they were fond of reading, she fancied them
  satirical: perhaps without exactly knowing what it was to be satirical;
  but THAT did not signify.  It was censure in common use, and easily
  given.
  
  Their presence was a restraint both on her and on Lucy.  It checked the
  idleness of one, and the business of the other.  Lady Middleton was
  ashamed of doing nothing before them, and the flattery which Lucy was
  proud to think of and administer at other times, she feared they would
  despise her for offering.  Miss Steele was the least discomposed of the
  three, by their presence; and it was in their power to reconcile her to
  it entirely.  Would either of them only have given her a full and
  minute account of the whole affair between Marianne and Mr. Willoughby,
  she would have thought herself amply rewarded for the sacrifice of the
  best place by the fire after dinner, which their arrival occasioned.
  But this conciliation was not granted; for though she often threw out
  expressions of pity for her sister to Elinor, and more than once dropt
  a reflection on the inconstancy of beaux before Marianne, no effect was
  produced, but a look of indifference from the former, or of disgust in
  the latter.  An effort even yet lighter might have made her their
  friend.  Would they only have laughed at her about the Doctor!  But so
  little were they, anymore than the others, inclined to oblige her, that
  if Sir John dined from home, she might spend a whole day without
  hearing any other raillery on the subject, than what she was kind
  enough to bestow on herself.
  
  All these jealousies and discontents, however, were so totally
  unsuspected by Mrs. Jennings, that she thought it a delightful thing
  for the girls to be together; and generally congratulated her young
  friends every night, on having escaped the company of a stupid old
  woman so long.  She joined them sometimes at Sir John's, sometimes at
  her own house; but wherever it was, she always came in excellent
  spirits, full of delight and importance, attributing Charlotte's well
  doing to her own care, and ready to give so exact, so minute a detail
  of her situation, as only Miss Steele had curiosity enough to desire.
  One thing DID disturb her; and of that she made her daily complaint.
  Mr. Palmer maintained the common, but unfatherly opinion among his sex,
  of all infants being alike; and though she could plainly perceive, at
  different times, the most striking resemblance between this baby and
  every one of his relations on both sides, there was no convincing his
  father of it; no persuading him to believe that it was not exactly like
  every other baby of the same age; nor could he even be brought to
  acknowledge the simple proposition of its being the finest child in the
  world.
  
  I come now to the relation of a misfortune, which about this time
  befell Mrs. John Dashwood.  It so happened that while her two sisters
  with Mrs. Jennings were first calling on her in Harley Street, another
  of her acquaintance had dropt in--a circumstance in itself not
  apparently likely to produce evil to her.  But while the imaginations
  of other people will carry them away to form wrong judgments of our
  conduct, and to decide on it by slight appearances, one's happiness
  must in some measure be always at the mercy of chance.  In the present
  instance, this last-arrived lady allowed her fancy to so far outrun
  truth and probability, that on merely hearing the name of the Miss
  Dashwoods, and understanding them to be Mr. Dashwood's sisters, she
  immediately concluded them to be staying in Harley Street; and this
  misconstruction produced within a day or two afterwards, cards of
  invitation for them as well as for their brother and sister, to a small
  musical party at her house.  The consequence of which was, that Mrs.
  John Dashwood was obliged to submit not only to the exceedingly great
  inconvenience of sending her carriage for the Miss Dashwoods, but, what
  was still worse, must be subject to all the unpleasantness of appearing
  to treat them with attention: and who could tell that they might not
  expect to go out with her a second time?  The power of disappointing
  them, it was true, must always be hers.  But that was not enough; for
  when people are determined on a mode of conduct which they know to be
  wrong, they feel injured by the expectation of any thing better from
  them.
  
  Marianne had now been brought by degrees, so much into the habit of
  going out every day, that it was become a matter of indifference to
  her, whether she went or not: and she prepared quietly and mechanically
  for every evening's engagement, though without expecting the smallest
  amusement from any, and very often without knowing, till the last
  moment, where it was to take her.
  
  To her dress and appearance she was grown so perfectly indifferent, as
  not to bestow half the consideration on it, during the whole of her
  toilet, which it received from Miss Steele in the first five minutes of
  their being together, when it was finished.  Nothing escaped HER minute
  observation and general curiosity; she saw every thing, and asked every
  thing; was never easy till she knew the price of every part of
  Marianne's dress; could have guessed the number of her gowns altogether
  with better judgment than Marianne herself, and was not without hopes
  of finding out before they parted, how much her washing cost per week,
  and how much she had every year to spend upon herself.  The
  impertinence of these kind of scrutinies, moreover, was generally
  concluded with a compliment, which though meant as its douceur, was
  considered by Marianne as the greatest impertinence of all; for after
  undergoing an examination into the value and make of her gown, the
  colour of her shoes, and the arrangement of her hair, she was almost
  sure of being told that upon "her word she looked vastly smart, and she
  dared to say she would make a great many conquests."
  
  With such encouragement as this, was she dismissed on the present
  occasion, to her brother's carriage; which they were ready to enter
  five minutes after it stopped at the door, a punctuality not very
  agreeable to their sister-in-law, who had preceded them to the house of
  her acquaintance, and was there hoping for some delay on their part
  that might inconvenience either herself or her coachman.
  
  The events of this evening were not very remarkable.  The party, like
  other musical parties, comprehended a great many people who had real
  taste for the performance, and a great many more who had none at all;
  and the performers themselves were, as usual, in their own estimation,
  and that of their immediate friends, the first private performers in
  England.
  
  As Elinor was neither musical, nor affecting to be so, she made no
  scruple of turning her eyes from the grand pianoforte, whenever it
  suited her, and unrestrained even by the presence of a harp, and
  violoncello, would fix them at pleasure on any other object in the
  room.  In one of these excursive glances she perceived among a group of
  young men, the very he, who had given them a lecture on toothpick-cases
  at Gray's.  She perceived him soon afterwards looking at herself, and
  speaking familiarly to her brother; and had just determined to find out
  his name from the latter, when they both came towards her, and Mr.
  Dashwood introduced him to her as Mr. Robert Ferrars.
  
  He addressed her with easy civility, and twisted his head into a bow
  which assured her as plainly as words could have done, that he was
  exactly the coxcomb she had heard him described to be by Lucy.  Happy
  had it been for her, if her regard for Edward had depended less on his
  own merit, than on the merit of his nearest relations!  For then his
  brother's bow must have given the finishing stroke to what the
  ill-humour of his mother and sister would have begun.  But while she
  wondered at the difference of the two young men, she did not find that
  the emptiness of conceit of the one, put her out of all charity with
  the modesty and worth of the other.  Why they WERE different, Robert
  exclaimed to her himself in the course of a quarter of an hour's
  conversation; for, talking of his brother, and lamenting the extreme
  GAUCHERIE which he really believed kept him from mixing in proper
  society, he candidly and generously attributed it much less to any
  natural deficiency, than to the misfortune of a private education;
  while he himself, though probably without any particular, any material
  superiority by nature, merely from the advantage of a public school,
  was as well fitted to mix in the world as any other man.
  
  "Upon my soul," he added, "I believe it is nothing more; and so I often
  tell my mother, when she is grieving about it.  'My dear Madam,' I
  always say to her, 'you must make yourself easy.  The evil is now
  irremediable, and it has been entirely your own doing.  Why would you
  be persuaded by my uncle, Sir Robert, against your own judgment, to
  place Edward under private tuition, at the most critical time of his
  life?  If you had only sent him to Westminster as well as myself,
  instead of sending him to Mr. Pratt's, all this would have been
  prevented.' This is the way in which I always consider the matter, and
  my mother is perfectly convinced of her error."
  
  Elinor would not oppose his opinion, because, whatever might be her
  general estimation of the advantage of a public school, she could not
  think of Edward's abode in Mr. Pratt's family, with any satisfaction.
  
  "You reside in Devonshire, I think,"--was his next observation, "in a
  cottage near Dawlish."
  
  Elinor set him right as to its situation; and it seemed rather
  surprising to him that anybody could live in Devonshire, without living
  near Dawlish.  He bestowed his hearty approbation however on their
  species of house.
  
  "For my own part," said he, "I am excessively fond of a cottage; there
  is always so much comfort, so much elegance about them.  And I protest,
  if I had any money to spare, I should buy a little land and build one
  myself, within a short distance of London, where I might drive myself
  down at any time, and collect a few friends about me, and be happy.  I
  advise every body who is going to build, to build a cottage.  My friend
  Lord Courtland came to me the other day on purpose to ask my advice,
  and laid before me three different plans of Bonomi's.  I was to decide
  on the best of them.  'My dear Courtland,' said I, immediately throwing
  them all into the fire, 'do not adopt either of them, but by all means
  build a cottage.' And that I fancy, will be the end of it.
  
  "Some people imagine that there can be no accommodations, no space in a
  cottage; but this is all a mistake.  I was last month at my friend
  Elliott's, near Dartford.  Lady Elliott wished to give a dance.  'But
  how can it be done?' said she; 'my dear Ferrars, do tell me how it is
  to be managed.  There is not a room in this cottage that will hold ten
  couple, and where can the supper be?' I immediately saw that there
  could be no difficulty in it, so I said, 'My dear Lady Elliott, do not
  be uneasy.  The dining parlour will admit eighteen couple with ease;
  card-tables may be placed in the drawing-room; the library may be open
  for tea and other refreshments; and let the supper be set out in the
  saloon.'  Lady Elliott was delighted with the thought.  We measured the
  dining-room, and found it would hold exactly eighteen couple, and the
  affair was arranged precisely after my plan.  So that, in fact, you
  see, if people do but know how to set about it, every comfort may be as
  well enjoyed in a cottage as in the most spacious dwelling."
  
  Elinor agreed to it all, for she did not think he deserved the
  compliment of rational opposition.
  
  As John Dashwood had no more pleasure in music than his eldest sister,
  his mind was equally at liberty to fix on any thing else; and a thought
  struck him during the evening, which he communicated to his wife, for
  her approbation, when they got home.  The consideration of Mrs.
  Dennison's mistake, in supposing his sisters their guests, had
  suggested the propriety of their being really invited to become such,
  while Mrs. Jennings's engagements kept her from home.  The expense would
  be nothing, the inconvenience not more; and it was altogether an
  attention which the delicacy of his conscience pointed out to be
  requisite to its complete enfranchisement from his promise to his
  father.  Fanny was startled at the proposal.
  
  "I do not see how it can be done," said she, "without affronting Lady
  Middleton, for they spend every day with her; otherwise I should be
  exceedingly glad to do it.  You know I am always ready to pay them any
  attention in my power, as my taking them out this evening shews.  But
  they are Lady Middleton's visitors.  How can I ask them away from her?"
  
  Her husband, but with great humility, did not see the force of her
  objection.  "They had already spent a week in this manner in Conduit
  Street, and Lady Middleton could not be displeased at their giving the
  same number of days to such near relations."
  
  Fanny paused a moment, and then, with fresh vigor, said,
  
  "My love I would ask them with all my heart, if it was in my power.
  But I had just settled within myself to ask the Miss Steeles to spend a
  few days with us.  They are very well behaved, good kind of girls; and
  I think the attention is due to them, as their uncle did so very well
  by Edward.  We can ask your sisters some other year, you know; but the
  Miss Steeles may not be in town any more.  I am sure you will like
  them; indeed, you DO like them, you know, very much already, and so
  does my mother; and they are such favourites with Harry!"
  
  Mr. Dashwood was convinced.  He saw the necessity of inviting the Miss
  Steeles immediately, and his conscience was pacified by the resolution
  of inviting his sisters another year; at the same time, however, slyly
  suspecting that another year would make the invitation needless, by
  bringing Elinor to town as Colonel Brandon's wife, and Marianne as
  THEIR visitor.
  
  Fanny, rejoicing in her escape, and proud of the ready wit that had
  procured it, wrote the next morning to Lucy, to request her company and
  her sister's, for some days, in Harley Street, as soon as Lady
  Middleton could spare them.  This was enough to make Lucy really and
  reasonably happy.  Mrs. Dashwood seemed actually working for her,
  herself; cherishing all her hopes, and promoting all her views!  Such
  an opportunity of being with Edward and his family was, above all
  things, the most material to her interest, and such an invitation the
  most gratifying to her feelings!  It was an advantage that could not be
  too gratefully acknowledged, nor too speedily made use of; and the
  visit to Lady Middleton, which had not before had any precise limits,
  was instantly discovered to have been always meant to end in two days'
  time.
  
  When the note was shown to Elinor, as it was within ten minutes after
  its arrival, it gave her, for the first time, some share in the
  expectations of Lucy; for such a mark of uncommon kindness, vouchsafed
  on so short an acquaintance, seemed to declare that the good-will
  towards her arose from something more than merely malice against
  herself; and might be brought, by time and address, to do every thing
  that Lucy wished.  Her flattery had already subdued the pride of Lady
  Middleton, and made an entry into the close heart of Mrs. John
  Dashwood; and these were effects that laid open the probability of
  greater.
  
  The Miss Steeles removed to Harley Street, and all that reached Elinor
  of their influence there, strengthened her expectation of the event.
  Sir John, who called on them more than once, brought home such accounts
  of the favour they were in, as must be universally striking.  Mrs.
  Dashwood had never been so much pleased with any young women in her
  life, as she was with them; had given each of them a needle book made
  by some emigrant; called Lucy by her Christian name; and did not know
  whether she should ever be able to part with them.
  
  
  
  
  
  [At this point in the first and second editions, Volume II ended.]
  
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Chapters 33-36
target: Elinor and Marianne go on an errand to Gray's, the jeweler in town. They are annoyed by the presence of an impertinent coxcomb who stands before them in line and orders an elaborate toothpick case. As Elinor at last conducts her business, her brother enters the shop. John Dashwood confesses that he has been in town for two days but has not had time to visit his sisters. The next day, John pays a visit to his sisters at Mrs. Jennings's home. He takes a long walk with Elinor, during which he informs her that he would be very glad if she married Colonel Brandon. Elinor assures him that she has no intentions of doing so, but John insists on the desirability of the match. He also comments that Mrs. Ferrars expects her son, Edward, to marry the wealthy daughter of Miss Morton. Finally, Edward notes that Marianne's appearance has declined considerably in her time of misery, and thus she will no longer be able to find quite so wealthy a husband. Fanny Dashwood is initially reluctant to visit the Dashwoods because she is unsure if Mrs. Jennings is sophisticated enough for her, but she consents upon hearing her husband's favorable report. Fanny enjoys the company of Mrs. Jennings, and especially enjoys the company of Lady Middleton. She decides to host a dinner party at her home on Harley Street. She invites the Dashwood sisters, Mrs. Jennings, the Middletons, Colonel Brandon, and Mrs. Ferrars. Elinor is very worried about meeting Edward at the dinner party, and is relieved to learn that he is unable to attend. She strongly dislikes Mrs. Ferrars, a sour and sallow woman who seems to care only about seeing her son Edward marry rich. After dinner, the ladies withdraw into the drawing room. Much to Elinor's dismay, the subject of conversation is Harry Dashwood and Lady Middleton's second son, William, and whether one is taller than the other. When the gentlemen guests enter the room, John Dashwood shows off to Colonel Brandon a pair of screens that Elinor painted as a gift for her brother's family. Mrs. Ferrars insults Elinor's artwork and Marianne, furious at Mrs. Ferrars's rudeness, rushes to her sister's public defense. Colonel Brandon admires the "affectionate heart" of this girl, who cannot bear to witness her sister slighted. Mrs. Jennings is called away urgently by her daughter Mrs. Charlotte Palmer, who is expecting the birth of a child. Meanwhile, Lucy Steele visits the Dashwoods to tell  Elinor how pleasantly surprised she was by Mrs. Ferrars's favorable behavior toward her  at the party. In the middle of their conversation, the servant suddenly announces the arrival of Mr. Ferrars, and Edward walks into the room. He looks immediately uncomfortable upon realizing that both Lucy and Elinor are in attendance. Marianne, who does not know anything about Lucy's claims of an attachment to Edward, expresses her tremendous joy at his arrival. Marianne is surprised when Edward leaves so soon after, and remarks to Elinor that she cannot understand why Lucy calls so frequently . Elinor, bound by her pledge of secrecy to Lucy, cannot offer a single word of explanation. Mrs. Palmer gives birth to a son and heir, to the great pride and joy of Mrs. Jennings. Mr. Palmer, however, seems unaffected by the birth of his son and insists that the baby looks like all the other babies he has ever seen. Fanny's friend, Mrs. Dennison, invites her and John to a musical party and extends the invitation to the Dashwood girls, under the mistaken assumption that the girls are living with their half-brother's family. There, Elinor is introduced to Mr. Robert Ferrars and discovers that he is the very same coxcomb who stood before her in line at the jewelers. At the party, it occurs to John to invite his sisters to stay at his house in London, but Fanny objects on the grounds that she had just been planning to invite Anne and Lucy Steele to visit. Elinor worries that perhaps this invitation is a sign that Fanny has decided to support Lucy's engagement to her brother, Edward.
feat_summary_analysis: Commentary Austen's biting wit is quite evident here: as the omniscient narrator, she makes direct comments about her characters, and, within the story, she has some of her characters commment on other, less favorable figures. The first, more direct display of her wit is exemplified by her comments about the dinner party, hosted by Mr. and Mrs. John Dashwood: John Dashwood had not much to say for himself that was worth hearing, and his wife still less. But there was no peculiar disgrace in this, for it was very much the case with the chief of their visitors, who almost all laboured under one or other of these disqualifications for being agreeable: want of sense, either natural or improved; want of elegance, want of spirits, or want of temper. She passes judgment on her characters by pretending to cast their most negative attributes in a positive light: John Dashwood has nothing to say for himself, but there is "no particular disgrace" in this because his company is just as insipid as he. Usually, these acerbic observations are presented through Elinor's eyes, but here Austen, at her cruelest, satirizes her characters directly. The more indirect display of Austen's wit is exemplified by the personality and behavior of Mr. Palmer. Just after the lengthy and elaborate debate between doting mothers about the relative heights of their children, Austen informs her readers that Mr. Palmer, the father of a newborn son, did not find his child to be different from any other newborn infant, "nor could he  even be brought to acknowledge the simple proposition of its being the finest child in the world." Rather than informing her readers directly that Fanny Dashwood and Lady Middleton are irrational in their motherly affections, she accomplishes this through the character of Mr. Palmer, whose objectivity and indifference enable her to indirectly mock the mothers' excessive sentimentality. From Fanny's dinner party to Mrs. Dennison's musical party, these chapters underscore the extent to which a seemingly endless series of invitations governs the lives of the women in Austen's novel. The Dashwood women travel to Barton at the invitation of Sir John; Elinor and Marianne travel to London at the invitation of Mrs. Jennings; Marianne visits Willoughby's estate at Allenham at his invitation. Indeed, formal invitations to others' homes structure the social lives of all of Austen's heroines, and thus, although they travel frequently and widely, the wills of others circumscribe their mobility. In contrast, the men of the novel have agency in addition to mobility. They can come and go as they wish regardless of the invitations and expectations of others: Willoughby proclaims unexpectedly that he must go to Devonshire on business; Colonel Brandon suddenly interrupts the outing to Whitwell because he has urgent business in London; Edward comes and goes in no particular pattern. While the plot of the entire novel is structured around the physical movement of characters, only the male characters fully control their travels.