feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/cliffnotes/Sense and Sensibility/section_24_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: Sense and Sensibility.chapters 35-36
feat_summary_id: chapters 35-36
feat_summary: {"name": "Chapters 35-36", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20201101060302/https://www.cliffsnotes.com/literature/s/sense-and-sensibility/summary-and-analysis/chapters-3536", "summary": "The following morning, Lucy Steele called to see Elinor and asked her, \"Could anything be so flattering as Mrs. Ferrars' way of treating me yesterday?\" When Elinor suggested that Lucy's anticipation of favor should wait until Mrs. Ferrars' awareness of the nature of Lucy's connection to Edward, Lucy insinuated that Elinor was jealous and said that shouldn't change things at all. An awkward situation arose when a servant suddenly announced the arrival of Edward Ferrars. Everybody felt very foolish, but Elinor welcomed him so kindly that \"he had courage enough to sit down.\" On pretext of finding Marianne, Elinor left Edward and Lucy together. When the sisters came back, Marianne greeted Edward with profuse affection. Not knowing of the secret engagement, she behaved as if Edward were in love with Elinor, much to everyone's discomfort. Edward left very soon, \"and Lucy, who would have outstayed him had his visit lasted two hours, soon afterwards went away. A few days later, Charlotte Palmer's baby was born. As Mrs. Jennings spent much time with her daughter, Elinor and Marianne were invited daily to Lady Middleton's. They were also invited to parties by people who believed them to be staying with their sister-in-law. At one musical parry, Elinor noticed the young man whom they had seen in Mr. Gray's jewelry shop. John Dashwood introduced him as Mr. Robert Ferrars, and Elinor found him \"exactly the coxcomb she had heard him described to be by Lucy.\" John Dashwood suggested to his wife that he might invite his sisters to stay with them, but Fanny persuaded him that they could do that another year. Instead, she invited the Misses Steele, leading Lucy to believe that Mrs. Dashwood approved of a possible marriage between herself and Edward.", "analysis": "When dealing with characters who are not sensible, Austen almost invariably uses direct speech, and the characters reveal themselves the more clearly because of it. We learn a lot about Robert Ferrars when he talks so insincerely to Elinor about the advantages of living in a cottage. Lucy Steele's speech is equally self-revealing. Not only her lack of education but her innate vulgarity is exposed. She makes such mistakes in grammar as \"She had quite took a fancy to me.\" Her short, simple sentences seem to reflect her emptiness of mind. Robert Ferrars seems the opposite of his brother. Robert attributes his own superiority to an education in the \"public\" schools , which reinforced all his natural tendency towards snobbery."}
text: 
  
  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 35-36
target: The following morning, Lucy Steele called to see Elinor and asked her, "Could anything be so flattering as Mrs. Ferrars' way of treating me yesterday?" When Elinor suggested that Lucy's anticipation of favor should wait until Mrs. Ferrars' awareness of the nature of Lucy's connection to Edward, Lucy insinuated that Elinor was jealous and said that shouldn't change things at all. An awkward situation arose when a servant suddenly announced the arrival of Edward Ferrars. Everybody felt very foolish, but Elinor welcomed him so kindly that "he had courage enough to sit down." On pretext of finding Marianne, Elinor left Edward and Lucy together. When the sisters came back, Marianne greeted Edward with profuse affection. Not knowing of the secret engagement, she behaved as if Edward were in love with Elinor, much to everyone's discomfort. Edward left very soon, "and Lucy, who would have outstayed him had his visit lasted two hours, soon afterwards went away. A few days later, Charlotte Palmer's baby was born. As Mrs. Jennings spent much time with her daughter, Elinor and Marianne were invited daily to Lady Middleton's. They were also invited to parties by people who believed them to be staying with their sister-in-law. At one musical parry, Elinor noticed the young man whom they had seen in Mr. Gray's jewelry shop. John Dashwood introduced him as Mr. Robert Ferrars, and Elinor found him "exactly the coxcomb she had heard him described to be by Lucy." John Dashwood suggested to his wife that he might invite his sisters to stay with them, but Fanny persuaded him that they could do that another year. Instead, she invited the Misses Steele, leading Lucy to believe that Mrs. Dashwood approved of a possible marriage between herself and Edward.
feat_summary_analysis: When dealing with characters who are not sensible, Austen almost invariably uses direct speech, and the characters reveal themselves the more clearly because of it. We learn a lot about Robert Ferrars when he talks so insincerely to Elinor about the advantages of living in a cottage. Lucy Steele's speech is equally self-revealing. Not only her lack of education but her innate vulgarity is exposed. She makes such mistakes in grammar as "She had quite took a fancy to me." Her short, simple sentences seem to reflect her emptiness of mind. Robert Ferrars seems the opposite of his brother. Robert attributes his own superiority to an education in the "public" schools , which reinforced all his natural tendency towards snobbery.