feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/gradesaver/Sense and Sensibility/section_2_part_2.txt
feat_book_id: Sense and Sensibility.chapter 22
feat_summary_id: chapter 22
feat_summary: {"name": "Chapter 22", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210419170735/https://www.gradesaver.com/sense-and-sensibility/study-guide/summary-chapters-21-30", "summary": "Marianne cannot stand the Miss Steeles and is cold toward them out of ill-spirits and dislike, so Elinor becomes the preferred companion of Lucy. Elinor thinks Lucy decent company, though she lacks education and refinement, has an insincere tendency to flatter people. Lucy inquires of Mrs. Ferrars, which strikes Elinor as odd; Elinor asks of her acquaintance with the Ferrars family, and Lucy reveals that she is engaged to Edward. The engagement, though, is a secret to all but Lucy's sister and now Elinor; Elinor questions Lucy to try and prove that this is not true, but it turns out that it was Lucy that Edward had visited in Plymouth before his arrival at Barton, and Lucy says she gave him a ring with a lock of hair, which Elinor and Marianne had noticed him wearing. Elinor is overcome by grief at this discovery, but she must keep this knowledge a secret, and hide her great disappointment as best she can.", "analysis": "Disappointment hits Elinor just as hard as it had with Marianne; her expectations, once again a theme in the story, are immediately dashed. The secret symbolized by Edward's ring is finally revealed, though Elinor, unlike Marianne, has not the luxury of expressing her grief on this occasion. Elinor's complete oppression of her feelings here shows her to be as opposite to Marianne as she can be; the juxtaposition between Marianne's indulgent grief and Elinor's complete restraint shows that both feel disappointment keenly, but are driven to react in very different ways. Austen's diction upon conveying Elinor's disappointment is as keen and sharp as Elinor's own feelings; she is \"mortified, shocked, confounded\" by Lucy's confession, and is so affected that she \"can hardly stand"}
text: 
  
  Marianne, who had never much toleration for any thing like
  impertinence, vulgarity, inferiority of parts, or even difference of
  taste from herself, was at this time particularly ill-disposed, from
  the state of her spirits, to be pleased with the Miss Steeles, or to
  encourage their advances; and to the invariable coldness of her
  behaviour towards them, which checked every endeavour at intimacy on
  their side, Elinor principally attributed that preference of herself
  which soon became evident in the manners of both, but especially of
  Lucy, who missed no opportunity of engaging her in conversation, or of
  striving to improve their acquaintance by an easy and frank
  communication of her sentiments.
  
  Lucy was naturally clever; her remarks were often just and amusing; and
  as a companion for half an hour Elinor frequently found her agreeable;
  but her powers had received no aid from education: she was ignorant and
  illiterate; and her deficiency of all mental improvement, her want of
  information in the most common particulars, could not be concealed from
  Miss Dashwood, in spite of her constant endeavour to appear to
  advantage.  Elinor saw, and pitied her for, the neglect of abilities
  which education might have rendered so respectable; but she saw, with
  less tenderness of feeling, the thorough want of delicacy, of
  rectitude, and integrity of mind, which her attentions, her
  assiduities, her flatteries at the Park betrayed; and she could have no
  lasting satisfaction in the company of a person who joined insincerity
  with ignorance; whose want of instruction prevented their meeting in
  conversation on terms of equality, and whose conduct toward others made
  every shew of attention and deference towards herself perfectly
  valueless.
  
  "You will think my question an odd one, I dare say," said Lucy to her
  one day, as they were walking together from the park to the
  cottage--"but pray, are you personally acquainted with your
  sister-in-law's mother, Mrs. Ferrars?"
  
  Elinor DID think the question a very odd one, and her countenance
  expressed it, as she answered that she had never seen Mrs. Ferrars.
  
  "Indeed!" replied Lucy; "I wonder at that, for I thought you must have
  seen her at Norland sometimes.  Then, perhaps, you cannot tell me what
  sort of a woman she is?"
  
  "No," returned Elinor, cautious of giving her real opinion of Edward's
  mother, and not very desirous of satisfying what seemed impertinent
  curiosity-- "I know nothing of her."
  
  "I am sure you think me very strange, for enquiring about her in such a
  way," said Lucy, eyeing Elinor attentively as she spoke; "but perhaps
  there may be reasons--I wish I might venture; but however I hope you
  will do me the justice of believing that I do not mean to be
  impertinent."
  
  Elinor made her a civil reply, and they walked on for a few minutes in
  silence.  It was broken by Lucy, who renewed the subject again by
  saying, with some hesitation,
  
  "I cannot bear to have you think me impertinently curious.  I am sure I
  would rather do any thing in the world than be thought so by a person
  whose good opinion is so well worth having as yours.  And I am sure I
  should not have the smallest fear of trusting YOU; indeed, I should be
  very glad of your advice how to manage in such an uncomfortable
  situation as I am; but, however, there is no occasion to trouble YOU.
  I am sorry you do not happen to know Mrs. Ferrars."
  
  "I am sorry I do NOT," said Elinor, in great astonishment, "if it could
  be of any use to YOU to know my opinion of her.  But really I never
  understood that you were at all connected with that family, and
  therefore I am a little surprised, I confess, at so serious an inquiry
  into her character."
  
  "I dare say you are, and I am sure I do not at all wonder at it.  But
  if I dared tell you all, you would not be so much surprised.  Mrs.
  Ferrars is certainly nothing to me at present--but the time MAY
  come--how soon it will come must depend upon herself--when we may be
  very intimately connected."
  
  She looked down as she said this, amiably bashful, with only one side
  glance at her companion to observe its effect on her.
  
  "Good heavens!" cried Elinor, "what do you mean?  Are you acquainted
  with Mr. Robert Ferrars?  Can you be?" And she did not feel much
  delighted with the idea of such a sister-in-law.
  
  "No," replied Lucy, "not to Mr. ROBERT Ferrars--I never saw him in my
  life; but," fixing her eyes upon Elinor, "to his eldest brother."
  
  What felt Elinor at that moment? Astonishment, that would have been as
  painful as it was strong, had not an immediate disbelief of the
  assertion attended it.  She turned towards Lucy in silent amazement,
  unable to divine the reason or object of such a declaration; and though
  her complexion varied, she stood firm in incredulity, and felt in no
  danger of an hysterical fit, or a swoon.
  
  "You may well be surprised," continued Lucy; "for to be sure you could
  have had no idea of it before; for I dare say he never dropped the
  smallest hint of it to you or any of your family; because it was always
  meant to be a great secret, and I am sure has been faithfully kept so
  by me to this hour.  Not a soul of all my relations know of it but
  Anne, and I never should have mentioned it to you, if I had not felt
  the greatest dependence in the world upon your secrecy; and I really
  thought my behaviour in asking so many questions about Mrs. Ferrars
  must seem so odd, that it ought to be explained.  And I do not think
  Mr. Ferrars can be displeased, when he knows I have trusted you,
  because I know he has the highest opinion in the world of all your
  family, and looks upon yourself and the other Miss Dashwoods quite as
  his own sisters."--She paused.
  
  Elinor for a few moments remained silent.  Her astonishment at what she
  heard was at first too great for words; but at length forcing herself
  to speak, and to speak cautiously, she said, with calmness of manner,
  which tolerably well concealed her surprise and solicitude-- "May I ask
  if your engagement is of long standing?"
  
  "We have been engaged these four years."
  
  "Four years!"
  
  "Yes."
  
  Elinor, though greatly shocked, still felt unable to believe it.
  
  "I did not know," said she, "that you were even acquainted till the
  other day."
  
  "Our acquaintance, however, is of many years date.  He was under my
  uncle's care, you know, a considerable while."
  
  "Your uncle!"
  
  "Yes; Mr. Pratt.  Did you never hear him talk of Mr. Pratt?"
  
  "I think I have," replied Elinor, with an exertion of spirits, which
  increased with her increase of emotion.
  
  "He was four years with my uncle, who lives at Longstaple, near
  Plymouth.  It was there our acquaintance begun, for my sister and me
  was often staying with my uncle, and it was there our engagement was
  formed, though not till a year after he had quitted as a pupil; but he
  was almost always with us afterwards.  I was very unwilling to enter
  into it, as you may imagine, without the knowledge and approbation of
  his mother; but I was too young, and loved him too well, to be so
  prudent as I ought to have been.-- Though you do not know him so well
  as me, Miss Dashwood, you must have seen enough of him to be sensible
  he is very capable of making a woman sincerely attached to him."
  
  "Certainly," answered Elinor, without knowing what she said; but after
  a moment's reflection, she added, with revived security of Edward's
  honour and love, and her companion's falsehood--"Engaged to Mr. Edward
  Ferrars!--I confess myself so totally surprised at what you tell me,
  that really--I beg your pardon; but surely there must be some mistake
  of person or name.  We cannot mean the same Mr. Ferrars."
  
  "We can mean no other," cried Lucy, smiling.  "Mr. Edward Ferrars, the
  eldest son of Mrs. Ferrars, of Park Street, and brother of your
  sister-in-law, Mrs. John Dashwood, is the person I mean; you must allow
  that I am not likely to be deceived as to the name of the man on who
  all my happiness depends."
  
  "It is strange," replied Elinor, in a most painful perplexity, "that I
  should never have heard him even mention your name."
  
  "No; considering our situation, it was not strange.  Our first care has
  been to keep the matter secret.-- You knew nothing of me, or my family,
  and, therefore, there could be no OCCASION for ever mentioning my name
  to you; and, as he was always particularly afraid of his sister's
  suspecting any thing, THAT was reason enough for his not mentioning it."
  
  She was silent.--Elinor's security sunk; but her self-command did not
  sink with it.
  
  "Four years you have been engaged," said she with a firm voice.
  
  "Yes; and heaven knows how much longer we may have to wait.  Poor
  Edward!  It puts him quite out of heart." Then taking a small miniature
  from her pocket, she added, "To prevent the possibility of mistake, be
  so good as to look at this face.  It does not do him justice, to be
  sure, but yet I think you cannot be deceived as to the person it was
  drew for.--I have had it above these three years."
  
  She put it into her hands as she spoke; and when Elinor saw the
  painting, whatever other doubts her fear of a too hasty decision, or
  her wish of detecting falsehood might suffer to linger in her mind, she
  could have none of its being Edward's face.  She returned it almost
  instantly, acknowledging the likeness.
  
  "I have never been able," continued Lucy, "to give him my picture in
  return, which I am very much vexed at, for he has been always so
  anxious to get it!  But I am determined to set for it the very first
  opportunity."
  
  "You are quite in the right," replied Elinor calmly.  They then
  proceeded a few paces in silence.  Lucy spoke first.
  
  "I am sure," said she, "I have no doubt in the world of your faithfully
  keeping this secret, because you must know of what importance it is to
  us, not to have it reach his mother; for she would never approve of it,
  I dare say.  I shall have no fortune, and I fancy she is an exceeding
  proud woman."
  
  "I certainly did not seek your confidence," said Elinor; "but you do me
  no more than justice in imagining that I may be depended on.  Your
  secret is safe with me; but pardon me if I express some surprise at so
  unnecessary a communication.  You must at least have felt that my being
  acquainted with it could not add to its safety."
  
  As she said this, she looked earnestly at Lucy, hoping to discover
  something in her countenance; perhaps the falsehood of the greatest
  part of what she had been saying; but Lucy's countenance suffered no
  change.
  
  "I was afraid you would think I was taking a great liberty with you,"
  said she, "in telling you all this.  I have not known you long to be
  sure, personally at least, but I have known you and all your family by
  description a great while; and as soon as I saw you, I felt almost as
  if you was an old acquaintance.  Besides in the present case, I really
  thought some explanation was due to you after my making such particular
  inquiries about Edward's mother; and I am so unfortunate, that I have
  not a creature whose advice I can ask.  Anne is the only person that
  knows of it, and she has no judgment at all; indeed, she does me a
  great deal more harm than good, for I am in constant fear of her
  betraying me.  She does not know how to hold her tongue, as you must
  perceive, and I am sure I was in the greatest fright in the world
  t'other day, when Edward's name was mentioned by Sir John, lest she
  should out with it all.  You can't think how much I go through in my
  mind from it altogether.  I only wonder that I am alive after what I
  have suffered for Edward's sake these last four years.  Every thing in
  such suspense and uncertainty; and seeing him so seldom--we can hardly
  meet above twice a-year.  I am sure I wonder my heart is not quite
  broke."
  
  Here she took out her handkerchief; but Elinor did not feel very
  compassionate.
  
  "Sometimes." continued Lucy, after wiping her eyes, "I think whether it
  would not be better for us both to break off the matter entirely."  As
  she said this, she looked directly at her companion.  "But then at
  other times I have not resolution enough for it.-- I cannot bear the
  thoughts of making him so miserable, as I know the very mention of such
  a thing would do.  And on my own account too--so dear as he is to me--I
  don't think I could be equal to it.  What would you advise me to do in
  such a case, Miss Dashwood?  What would you do yourself?"
  
  "Pardon me," replied Elinor, startled by the question; "but I can give
  you no advice under such circumstances.  Your own judgment must direct
  you."
  
  "To be sure," continued Lucy, after a few minutes silence on both
  sides, "his mother must provide for him sometime or other; but poor
  Edward is so cast down by it!  Did you not think him dreadful
  low-spirited when he was at Barton?  He was so miserable when he left
  us at Longstaple, to go to you, that I was afraid you would think him
  quite ill."
  
  "Did he come from your uncle's, then, when he visited us?"
  
  "Oh, yes; he had been staying a fortnight with us.  Did you think he
  came directly from town?"
  
  "No," replied Elinor, most feelingly sensible of every fresh
  circumstance in favour of Lucy's veracity; "I remember he told us, that
  he had been staying a fortnight with some friends near Plymouth." She
  remembered too, her own surprise at the time, at his mentioning nothing
  farther of those friends, at his total silence with respect even to
  their names.
  
  "Did not you think him sadly out of spirits?" repeated Lucy.
  
  "We did, indeed, particularly so when he first arrived."
  
  "I begged him to exert himself for fear you should suspect what was the
  matter; but it made him so melancholy, not being able to stay more than
  a fortnight with us, and seeing me so much affected.-- Poor fellow!--I
  am afraid it is just the same with him now; for he writes in wretched
  spirits.  I heard from him just before I left Exeter;" taking a letter
  from her pocket and carelessly showing the direction to Elinor.  "You
  know his hand, I dare say, a charming one it is; but that is not
  written so well as usual.--He was tired, I dare say, for he had just
  filled the sheet to me as full as possible."
  
  Elinor saw that it WAS his hand, and she could doubt no longer.  This
  picture, she had allowed herself to believe, might have been
  accidentally obtained; it might not have been Edward's gift; but a
  correspondence between them by letter, could subsist only under a
  positive engagement, could be authorised by nothing else; for a few
  moments, she was almost overcome--her heart sunk within her, and she
  could hardly stand; but exertion was indispensably necessary; and she
  struggled so resolutely against the oppression of her feelings, that
  her success was speedy, and for the time complete.
  
  "Writing to each other," said Lucy, returning the letter into her
  pocket, "is the only comfort we have in such long separations.  Yes, I
  have one other comfort in his picture, but poor Edward has not even
  THAT.  If he had but my picture, he says he should be easy.  I gave him
  a lock of my hair set in a ring when he was at Longstaple last, and
  that was some comfort to him, he said, but not equal to a picture.
  Perhaps you might notice the ring when you saw him?"
  
  "I did," said Elinor, with a composure of voice, under which was
  concealed an emotion and distress beyond any thing she had ever felt
  before.  She was mortified, shocked, confounded.
  
  Fortunately for her, they had now reached the cottage, and the
  conversation could be continued no farther.  After sitting with them a
  few minutes, the Miss Steeles returned to the Park, and Elinor was then
  at liberty to think and be wretched.
  
  
  
  
  
  [At this point in the first and second editions, Volume 1 ends.]
  
  
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Chapter 22
target: Marianne cannot stand the Miss Steeles and is cold toward them out of ill-spirits and dislike, so Elinor becomes the preferred companion of Lucy. Elinor thinks Lucy decent company, though she lacks education and refinement, has an insincere tendency to flatter people. Lucy inquires of Mrs. Ferrars, which strikes Elinor as odd; Elinor asks of her acquaintance with the Ferrars family, and Lucy reveals that she is engaged to Edward. The engagement, though, is a secret to all but Lucy's sister and now Elinor; Elinor questions Lucy to try and prove that this is not true, but it turns out that it was Lucy that Edward had visited in Plymouth before his arrival at Barton, and Lucy says she gave him a ring with a lock of hair, which Elinor and Marianne had noticed him wearing. Elinor is overcome by grief at this discovery, but she must keep this knowledge a secret, and hide her great disappointment as best she can.
feat_summary_analysis: Disappointment hits Elinor just as hard as it had with Marianne; her expectations, once again a theme in the story, are immediately dashed. The secret symbolized by Edward's ring is finally revealed, though Elinor, unlike Marianne, has not the luxury of expressing her grief on this occasion. Elinor's complete oppression of her feelings here shows her to be as opposite to Marianne as she can be; the juxtaposition between Marianne's indulgent grief and Elinor's complete restraint shows that both feel disappointment keenly, but are driven to react in very different ways. Austen's diction upon conveying Elinor's disappointment is as keen and sharp as Elinor's own feelings; she is "mortified, shocked, confounded" by Lucy's confession, and is so affected that she "can hardly stand