Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen Part 1

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter one of Sense and Sensibility. This is a LibriVox recording.
All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more
information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Recording
by Karen Savage. Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. Chapter one.
The family of Dashwood had long been settled in Sussex.

(00:23):
Their estate was large, and their residence was at Norland Park,
in the center of their property, where for many generations
they had lived in so respectable a manner as to
engage the general good opinion of their surrounding acquaintance. The
late owner of this estate was a single man who
lived to a very advanced age, and who for many
years of his life had a constant companion and housekeeper

(00:47):
in his sister. But her death, which happened ten years
before his own, produced a great alteration in his home.
For to supply her loss, he invited and received into
his house the family of his nephew, mister Henry Dashwood,
the legal inheritor of the Norland estate, and the person
to whom he intended to bequeath it in the society

(01:08):
of his nephew and niece and their children. The old
gentleman's days were comfortably spent. His attachment to them all increased.
The constant attention of mister and missus Henry Dashwood to
his wishes, which proceeded not merely from interest but from
goodness of heart, gave him every degree of solid comfort
which his age could receive, and the cheerfulness of the

(01:29):
children added a relish to his existence. By a former marriage,
mister Henry Dashwood had one son by his present lady
three daughters. The son, a steady, respectable young man, was
amply provided for by the fortune of his mother, which
had been large, and half of which devolved on him
on his coming of age. By his own marriage. Likewise,

(01:52):
which happened soon afterwards, he added to his wealth to him. Therefore,
the succession to the Norland estate was not so really
important as to his sisters, for their fortune, independent of
what might arise to them from their father's inheriting that property,
could be but small. Their mother had nothing, and their
father only seven thousand pounds in his own disposal for

(02:14):
the remaining moiety of his first wife's fortune was also
secured to her child, and he had only a life
interest in it. The old gentleman died. His will was read, and,
like almost every other will, gave as much disappointment as pleasure.
He was neither so unjust nor so ungrateful as to
leave his estate from his nephew, but he left it

(02:37):
to him on such terms as destroyed half the value
of the bequest. Mister Dashwood had wished for it more
for the sake of his wife and daughters than for
himself or his son. But to his son, and his
son's son, a child of four years old. It was
secured in such a way as to leave himself no
power of providing for those who were most dear to him,

(02:59):
and whom most needed a provision, by any charge on
the estate, or by any sale of its valuable woods.
The whole was tied up for the benefit of this child, who,
in occasional visits with his father and mother at Norland,
had so far gained on the affections of his uncle
by such attractions as are by no means unusual in
children of two or three years old, an imperfect articulation,

(03:21):
an earnest desire of having his own way, many cunning tricks,
and a great deal of noise as to outweigh all
the value of all the attention which for years he
had received from his niece and her daughters. He meant
not to be unkind, however, and as a mark of
his affection for the three girls, he left them a
thousand pounds apiece. Mister Dashwood's disappointment was at first severe,

(03:45):
but his temper was cheerful and sanguine, and he might
reasonably hope to live many years, and by living economically,
lay by a considerable sum from the produce of an
estate already large and capable of almost immediate improvement. But
the fortune, which had been so tardy and coming, was
his only one twelvemonth. He survived, his uncle no longer,

(04:07):
and ten thousand pounds, including the late legacies, was all
that remained for his widow and daughters. His son was
sent for as soon as his danger was known, and
to him mister Dashwood recommended, with all the strength and
urgency which illness could command, the interest of his mother
in law and sisters. Mister John Dashwood had not the

(04:28):
strong feelings of the rest of the family, but he
was affected by a recommendation of such a nature at
such a time, and he promised to do everything in
his power to make them comfortable. His father was rendered
easy by such an assurance, and mister John Dashwood had
then leisure to consider how much there might prudently be
in his power to do for them. He was not

(04:50):
an ill disposed young man, unless to be rather cold
hearted and rather selfish as to be ill disposed. But
he was in general well respected, for he conducted himself
with propriety in the discharge of his ordinary duties. Had
he married a more amiable woman, he might have been
made still more respectable than he was. He might even

(05:10):
have been made amiable himself, for he was very young
when he married, and very fond of his wife. But
missus John Dashwood was a strong caricature of himself, more
narrow minded and selfish. When he gave his promise to
his father, he meditated within himself to increase the fortunes
of his sisters by the present of a thousand pounds apiece.

(05:30):
He then really thought himself equal to it. The prospect
of four thousand a year in addition to his present income,
besides the remaining half of his own mother's fortune, warmed
his heart and made him feel comfortable of generosity. Yes,
he would give them three thousand pounds. It would be
liberal and handsome. It would be enough to make them
completely easy. Three thousand pounds he could spare so considerable

(05:52):
a sum with little inconvenience. He thought of it all
day long, and for many days successively, and he did
not repent. No sooner was his father's funeral over than
Missus John Dashwood, without sending any notice of her intention
to her mother in law, arrived with her child and
their attendants. No one could dispute her right to come.

(06:12):
The house was her husband's from the moment of his
father's decease, But the indelicacy of her conduct was so
much the greater, And to a woman in Missus Dashwood's
situation with only common feelings must have been highly unpleasing.
But in her mind there was a sense of honor
so keen, a generosity so romantic, that any offense of
the kind by whomsoever given or received, was to her

(06:35):
a source of immovable disgust. Missus John Dashwood had never
been a favorite with any of her husband's family, but
she had had no opportunity till the present of showing
them with how little attention to the comfort of other
people she could act when occasion required it. So acutely
did missus Dashwood feel this ungracious behavior, and so earnestly
did she despise her daughter in law for it, that,

(06:58):
on the arrival of the latter, she would have quitted
the house forever, had not the entreaty of her eldest
girl induced her first to reflect on the propriety of going,
and her own tender love for all three children determined
her afterwards to stay and for their sakes avoid a
breach with their brother Eleanor. This eldest daughter, whose advice

(07:18):
was so effectual, possessed a strength of understanding and coolness
of judgment, which qualified her, though only nineteen, to be
the counselor of her mother, and enabled her frequently to
counteract to the advantage of them. All that eagerness of
mind in Missus Dashwood which must generally have led to imprudence.
She had an excellent heart. Her disposition was affectionate, and

(07:40):
her feelings were strong, But she knew how to govern them.
It was a knowledge which her mother had yet to learn,
and which one of her sisters had resolved never to
be taught. Mary Anne's abilities were in many respects quite
equal to Eleanor's. She was sensible and clever, but eager
in everything her sorrows, her joys could have no moderation.

(08:01):
She was generous, amiable, interesting, She was everything but prudent.
The resemblance between her and her mother was strikingly great.
Eleanor saw with concern the excess of her sister's sensibility,
but by Missus Dashwood it was valued and cherished. They
encouraged each other now in the violence of their affliction.

(08:22):
The agony of grief, which overpowered them at first, was
voluntarily renewed, was soughtful, was created again and again. They
gave themselves up wholly to their sorrow, seeking increase of
wretchedness in every reflection that could afford it, and resolved
against ever admitting consolation in future. Eleanor too was deeply afflicted,

(08:43):
but still she could struggle. She could exert herself, She
could consult with her brother, could receive her sister in
law on her arrival and treat her with proper attention,
and could strive to rouse her mother to similar exertion
and encourage her to similar forbearance. Margaret, the other sister,
was a good humored, well disposed girl. But as she

(09:03):
had already imbibed a good deal of mary Anne's romance
without having much of her sense, she did not, at
thirteen bid fair equal to her sisters at a more
advanced period of life. End of chapter one, Chapter two
of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. This LibriVox recording

(09:26):
is in the public domain recording by Karen Savage. Chapter two.
Missus John Dashwood now installed her self mistress of Norland,
and her mother and sisters in law were degraded to
the condition of visitors. As such, however, they were treated
by her with quiet civility, and by her husband with
as much kindness as he could feel towards anybody beyond himself,

(09:50):
his wife and their child. He really pressed them with
some earnestness to consider Norland as their home. And, as
no plan appeared so eligible to Missus Dae Ashwood as
remaining there till she could accommodate herself with the house
in the neighborhood, his invitation was accepted. A continuance in
a place where everything reminded her of former delight was

(10:11):
exactly what suited her mind. In seasons of cheerfulness, no
temper could be more cheerful than hers, or possess in
a greater degree that sanguine expectation of happiness, which is
happiness itself. But in sorrow she must be equally carried
away by her fancy, and as far beyond consolation as
in pleasure, she was beyond alloy. Missus John Dashwood did

(10:34):
not at all approve of what her husband intended to
do for his sisters. To take three thousand pounds from
the fortune of their dear little boy would be impoverishing
him to the most dreadful degree. She begged him to
think again on the subject. How could he answer it
to himself to rob his child, and his only child too,
of so large a sum? And what possible claim could

(10:56):
the miss Dashwoods, who were related to him only by
half blood, which she considered as no relationship at all,
have on his generosity to so large an amount. It
was very well known that no affection was ever supposed
to exist between the children of any man by different marriages.
And why was he to ruin himself and their poor
little harry by giving away all his money to his

(11:18):
half sisters. It was my father's last request to me,
replied her husband, that I should assist his widow and daughters.
He did not know what he was talking of. I
dare say ten to one, but he was light headed
at the time. Had he been in his right senses,
he could not have thought of such a thing as
begging you to give away half your fortune from your

(11:38):
own child. He did not stipulate for any particular sum, my,
dear Fanny. He only requested me, in general terms, to
assist them and make their situation more comfortable than it
was in his power to do. Perhaps it would have
been as well if he had left it wholly to myself.
He could hardly suppose I should neglect them. But as
he required the promise, I could not do less than it,

(12:00):
at least I thought so at the time. The promise
therefore was given and must be performed. Something must be
done for them. Whenever they leave Norland and settle in
a new home. Well, then let something be done for them.
But that something need not be three thousand pounds. Consider
she added that when the money is once parted with,

(12:21):
it never can return. Your sisters will marry and it
will be gone forever. If indeed it could be restored
to our poor little boy, Why to be sure, said
her husband, very gravely. That would make great difference. The
time may come when Harry will regret that so large
a sum was parted with. If he should have a
numerous family, for instance, it would be a very convenient addition,

(12:45):
to be sure, it would. Perhaps then it would be
better for all parties if the sum were diminished one
half five hundred pounds would be a prodigious increase to
their fortunes. Oh, beyond anything great. What brother on earth
would do half so much for his sisters, even if
really his sisters, And as it is only half blood,

(13:06):
But you have such a generous spirit. I would not
wish to do anything mean, he replied. One had rather,
on such occasions do too much than too little. No
one at least can think I have not done enough
for them, even themselves. They can hardly expect more. There
is no knowing what they may expect, said the lady.
But we are not to think of their expectations. The

(13:29):
question is what you can afford to do, certainly, and
I think I may afford to give them five hundred
pounds apiece. As it is, without any addition of mine,
they will each have about three thousand pounds on their
mother's death a very comfortable fortune for any young woman,
to be sure, it is, And indeed it strikes me
that they can want no addition at all. They will

(13:51):
have ten thousand pounds divided amongst them. If they marry,
they will be sure of doing well, and if they
do not, they may all live very comfortably together on
the interest of ten thousand pounds. That is very true.
And therefore I do not know whether, upon the whole
it would not be more advisable to do something for
their mother while she lives, rather than for them something

(14:13):
of the annuity kind. I mean, my sisters would feel
the good effects of it, as well as herself. A
hundred a year would make them all perfectly comfortable. His
wife hesitated a little, however, in giving her consent to
this plan, to be sure, said she, it is better
than parting with fifteen hundred pounds at once. But then
if missus Dashwood should live fifteen years, we shall be

(14:36):
completely taken. In fifteen years, my dear Fanny, her life
cannot be worth half that purchase, certainly not. But if
you observe, people always live for ever when there is
an annuity to be paid them, and she is very
stout and healthy, and hardly forty. An annuity is a
very serious business. It comes over and over every year,

(14:57):
and there is no getting rid of it. You are
not aware of what you are doing. I have known
a great deal of the trouble of annuities, for my
mother was clogged with the payment of three to old
superannuated servants by my father's will, and it is amazing
how disagreeable she found it. Twice every year these annuities
were to be paid, and then there was the trouble
of getting it to them, and then one of them

(15:18):
was said to have died, and afterwards it turned out
to be no such thing.

Speaker 2 (15:22):
My mother was quite sick of it.

Speaker 1 (15:24):
Her income was not her own, she said, with such
perpetual claims on it. And it was the more unkind
in my father, because otherwise the money would have been
entirely at my mother's disposal without any restriction whatever. It
has given me such an abhorrence of annuities that I
am sure I would not pin myself down to the
payment of one. For all the world. It is certainly

(15:44):
an unpleasant thing, replied mister Dashwood. To have those kind
of yearly drains on one's income, one's fortune, as your
mother justly says, is not one's own. To be tied
down to the regular payment of such a sum or
every rent day is by no means desirable. It takes
away one's independence, undoubtedly, and after all you have no

(16:05):
thanks for it. They think themselves secure. You do no
more than what is expected, and it raises no gratitude
at all.

Speaker 2 (16:12):
If I were you, whatever.

Speaker 1 (16:14):
I did should be done at my own discretion entirely.
I would not bind myself to allow them anything yearly.
It may be very inconvenient some years to spare a
hundred or even fifty pounds from our own expenses. I
believe you are right, my love, it will be better
that there should be no annuity. In the case. Whatever
I may give them occasionally will be of far greater

(16:35):
assistance than a yearly allowance, because they would only enlarge
their style of living if they felt sure of a
larger income, and would not be sixpence the writer for
it to the end of the year. It will certainly
be much the best way. A present of fifty pounds
now and then will prevent their ever being distressed for money,
and will, I think be amply discharging my promise to
my father. To be sure it will. Indeed, to say

(16:59):
the truth, I am convinced within myself that your father
had no idea of your giving them any money at all.
The assistance he thought of, I dare say, miss, only
such as might be reasonably expected of you, for instance,
such as looking out for a comfortable small house for them,
helping them to move their things, and sending them presents
of fish and game, and so forth whenever they are

(17:20):
in season. I lay my life that he meant nothing. Further, indeed,
it would be very strange and unreasonable if he did do.
But consider, my dear mister Dashwood, how excessively comfortable your
mother in law and her daughters may live on the
interest of seven thousand pounds besides the thousand pounds belonging
to each of the girls, which brings them in fifty

(17:41):
pounds a year apiece. And of course they will pay
their mother for their board out of it, although they
will have five hundred a year amongst them. And what
on earth can four women want for more than that?
They will live so cheap, their housekeeping will be nothing
at all. They will have no carriage, no horses, and
hardly any servant. They will keep no company, and can

(18:02):
have no expenses of any kind. Only conceive how comfortable
they will be five hundred a year. I am sure
I cannot imagine how they will spend half of it,
And as to your giving them more, it is quite
absurd to think of it. They will be much more
able to give you something. Upon my word, said mister Dashwood,
I believe you are perfectly right. My father certainly could

(18:24):
mean nothing more by his request to me than what
you say. I clearly understand it now, and I will
strictly fulfill my engagement by such acts of assistance and
kindness to them as you have described. When my mother
removes into another house, my services shall be readily given
to accommodate her as far as I can. Some little
present of furniture too, may be acceptable, then certainly returned

(18:46):
missus Dashwood. But however, one thing must be considered. When
your father and mother moved to Norland. Though the furniture
of Stanhill was sold, all the china, plate and linen
was saved, and is now left to your mother. Her
house will therefore be almost completely fitted up as soon
as she takes it. That is a material consideration, undoubtedly

(19:07):
a valuable legacy indeed, and yet some of the plate
would have been a very pleasant addition to our own
stock here. Yes, and the set of breakfast China is
twice as handsome as what belongs to this house, a
great deal too handsome in my opinion, for any place
they can ever afford to live in. But however, so
it is your father thought only of them, and I

(19:28):
must say this that you owe no particular gratitude to him,
nor attention to his wishes, for we very well know
that if he could, he would have left almost everything
in the world to them. This argument was irresistible. It
gave to his intentions whatever of decision was wanting before,
and he finally resolved that it would be absolutely unnecessary,

(19:49):
if not highly indecorous, to do more for the widow
and children of his father than such kind of neighborly acts,
as his own wife pointed out end of chapter chapter
three of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. This LibriVox

(20:10):
recording is in the public domain recording by Karen Savage,
Chapter three. Missus Dashwood remained at Norland several months, not
from any disinclination to move when the sight of every
well known spot ceased to raise the violent emotion which
it produced for a while. For when her spirits began
to revive and her mind became capable of some other

(20:32):
exertion than that of heightening its affliction by melancholy remembrances,
she was impatient to be gone, and indefatigable in her
inquiries for a suitable dwelling in the neighborhood of Norland,
For to remove far from that beloved spot was impossible.
But she could hear of no situation that at once
answered her notions of comfort and ease, and suited the
prudence of her eldest daughter, whose steadier judgment rejected several

(20:55):
houses as too large for their income, which her mother
would have approved. Missus Dashwood had been informed by her
husband of the solemn promise on the part of his
son in their favor, which gave comfort to his last
earthly reflections. She doubted the sincerity of this assurance no
more than he had doubted it himself, and she thought
of it for her daughter's sake with satisfaction. Though as

(21:16):
for herself, she was persuaded that a much smaller provision
than seven thousand pounds would support her in affluence. For
their brother's sake too, for the sake of his own heart,
she rejoiced, and she reproached herself for being unjust to
his merit before, in believing him incapable of generosity. His
attentive behavior to herself and his sisters convinced her that

(21:38):
their welfare was dear to him, and for a long
time she firmly relied on the liberality of his intentions.
The contempt which she had very early in their acquaintance
felt for her daughter in law, was very much increased
by the further knowledge of her character, which half a
year's residence in her family afforded. And perhaps in spite
of every consideration of politeness or maternal affection on the

(21:59):
sne the former, the two ladies might have found it
impossible to have lived together so long had not a
particular circumstance occurred to give still greater eligibility, according to
the opinions of Missus Dashwood, to her daughter's continuance at Norland.
This circumstance was a growing attachment between her eldest girl
and the brother of Missus John Dashwood, a gentlemanlike and

(22:22):
pleasing young man, who was introduced to their acquaintance soon
after his sister's establishment at Norland, and who had since
spent the greatest part of his time there. Some mothers
might have encouraged the intimacy from motives of interest, For
Edward Ferrars was the eldest son of a man who
had died very rich, and some might have repressed it
from motives of prudence, for except a trifling sum, the

(22:44):
whole of his fortune depended on the will of his mother.
But Missus Dashwood was alike uninfluenced by either consideration. It
was enough for her that he appeared to be amiable,
that he loved her daughter, and that Eleanor returned the partiality.
It was contrary to every doctrine of her that difference
of fortune should keep any couple asunder who were attracted
by resemblance of disposition, and that Eleanor's merit should not

(23:08):
be acknowledged by every one who knew her was, to
her comprehension impossible. Edward Ferris was not recommended, to their
good opinion by any peculiar graces of person or address.
He was not handsome, and his manners required intimacy. To
make them pleasing. He was too diffident to do justice
to himself. But when his natural shyness was overcome, his

(23:28):
behavior gave every indication of an open, affectionate heart. His
understanding was good, and his education had given it solid improvement.
But he was neither fitted by abilities nor disposition to
answer the wishes of his mother and sister, who longed
to see him distinguished, as they hardly knew what. They
wanted him to make a fine figure in the world

(23:48):
in some manner or other. His mother wished to interest
him in political concerns, to get him into parliament, or
to see him connected with some of the great men
of the day. Missus John Dashwood wished it likewise, but
in the meanwhile, till one of these superior blessings could
be attained, it would have quieted her ambition to see
him driving a barouche. But Edward had no turn for

(24:09):
great men or barouches. All his wishes centered in domestic
comfort and the quiet of private life. Fortunately, he had
a younger brother who was more promising. Edward had been
staying several weeks in the house before he engaged much
of Missus Dashwood's attention, for she was at that time
in such affliction as rendered her careless of surrounding objects.

(24:31):
She only saw that he was quiet and unobtrusive, and
she liked him for it. He did not disturb the
wretchedness of her mind by ill timed conversation. She was
first called to observe and approve him father, by a
reflection which Eleanor chanced one day to make on the
difference between him and his sister. It was a contrast
which recommended him most forcibly to her mother. It is enough,

(24:54):
said she, to say that he is unlike Fanny. Is enough.
It implies everything amiable. I love him already. I think
you will like him, said Eleanor, when you know more
of him. Like him, replied her mother, with a smile.
I feel no sentiment of approbation inferior to love. You
may esteem him. I have never yet known what it
was to separate esteem and love. Missus Dashwood now took

(25:16):
pains to get acquainted with him. Her manners were attaching,
and soon banished his reserve. She speedily comprehended all his merits.
The persuasion of his regard for Eleanor perhaps assisted her penetration,
but she really felt assured of his worth, and even
that quietness of manner, which militated against all her established
ideas of what a young man's address ought to be,

(25:37):
was no longer uninteresting when she knew his heart to
be warm and his temper affectionate. No sooner did she
perceive any symptom of love in his behavior to Eleanor
than she considered their serious attachment as certain, and looked
forward to their marriage as rapidly approaching in a few months.
My dear mary Anne, said she. Eleanor will, in all
probability be settled for life. We shall her, but she

(26:00):
will be happy. Oh Mamma, how shall we do without her?
My love? It will scarcely be a separation. We shall
live within a few miles of each other, and shall
meet every day of our lives. You will gain a brother,
a real affectionate brother. I have the highest opinion in
the world of Edward's heart.

Speaker 2 (26:18):
But you look grave, mary Anne.

Speaker 1 (26:20):
Do you disapprove your sister's choice? Perhaps, said Mary Anne,
I may consider it with some surprise. Edward is very amiable,
and I love him tenderly. But yet he is not
the kind of young man. There is something wanting his
figure is not striking. It has none of that grace
which I should expect in the man who could seriously

(26:42):
attach my sister. His eyes want all that spirit, that fire,
which at once announced virtue and intelligence. And besides all this,
I am afraid, mamma, he has no real taste. Music
seems scarcely to attract him. And though he admires Eleanor's
drawings very much, it is not the admiration of a
person who can understand their worth. It is evident in

(27:04):
spite of his frequent attention to her while she draws,
that in fact he knows nothing of the matter. He
admires as a lover, not as a connoisseur. To satisfy me,
those characters must be united. I could not be happy
with a man whose taste did not, in every point
coincide with my own. He must enter into all my feelings.

(27:24):
The same books, the same music, must charm us both. Oh, mamma,
how spiritless, how tame was Edward's manner in reading to
us last night. I felt for my sister most severely.
Yet she bore it with so much composure she seemed
scarcely to notice it. I could hardly keep my seat
to hear those beautiful lines, which have frequently almost driven

(27:45):
me wild, pronounced with such impenetrable calmness, such dreadful indifference.
He would certainly have done more justice to simple and
elegant prose. I thought so at the time. But you
would give him cowper. Nay, mamma, if he is not
to be animated by cowper. But we must allow for
difference of taste. Eleanor has not my feelings, and therefore

(28:07):
she may overlook it and be happy with him. But
it would have broken my heart had I loved him,
to hear him read with so little sensibility. Mamma. The
more I know of the world, the more I am
convinced that I shall never see a man whom I
can really love. I require so much. He must have
all Edward's virtues, and his person and manners, must ornament

(28:27):
his goodness with every possible charm. Remember, my love, that
you are not seventeen. It is yet too early in
life to despair of such a happiness. Why should you
be less fortunate than your mother in one circumstance, only,
my Mary Anne, may your destiny be different from hers.
End of Chapter three, Chapter four of Sense and Sensibility

(28:56):
by Jane Austen. This LibriVox recording is in the public
recording by Karen Savage. Chapter four. What a pity it is, Eleanor,
said mary Anne, that Edward should have no taste for drawing.
No taste for drawing, replied Eleanor, Why should you think so?
He does not draw himself, indeed, but he has great

(29:17):
pleasure in seeing the performances of other people. And I
assure you he is by no means deficient in natural taste,
though he has not had opportunities of improving it. Had
he ever been in the way of learning, I think
he would have drawn very well. He distrusts his own
judgment in such matters so much that he is always
unwilling to give his opinion on any picture. But he

(29:38):
has an innate propriety and simplicity of taste, which in
general direct him perfectly right. Mary Anne was afraid of offending,
and said no more on the subject. But the kind
of approbation which Eleanor described as excited in him by
the drawings of other people was very far from that
rapturous delight, which, in her opinion, could alone be called taste. Yet,

(30:00):
though smiling within herself at the mistake. She honored her
sister for that blind partiality to Edward which produced it.
I hope, mary Anne, continued Eleanor, you do not consider
him as deficient in general taste. I think I may
say that you cannot, for your behavior to him is
perfectly cordial, And if that were your opinion, I am
sure you could never be civil to him. Mary Anne

(30:22):
hardly knew what to say. She would not wound the
feelings of her sister on any account, and yet to
say what she did not believe was impossible. At length,
she replied, do not be offended, Eleanor, if my praise
of him is not in everything equal to your sense
of his merits. I have not had so many opportunities
of estimating the minuter propensities of his mind, his inclinations,

(30:44):
and his tastes as you have. But I have the
highest opinion in the world of his goodness and sense.
I think him everything that is worthy and amiable. I
am sure, replied Eleanor, with a smile, that his dearest
friends could not be dissatisfied with such common day as that.
I do not perceive how you could express yourself more warmly.

(31:05):
Mary Anne was rejoiced to find her sister so easily
pleased of his sense and goodness, continued Eleanor. No one
can I think be in doubt who has seen him
often enough to engage him in unreserved conversation. The excellence
of his understanding and his principles can be concealed only
by that shyness which too often keeps him silent. You

(31:26):
know enough of him to do justice to his solid worth,
But of his minuter propensities, as you call them, you have,
from peculiar circumstances, been kept more ignorant than myself. He
and I have been at times thrown a good deal together,
while you have been wholly engrossed on the most affectionate
principle by my mother. I have seen a great deal

(31:46):
of him, have studied his sentiments, and heard his opinion
on subjects of literature and taste, And upon the whole
I venture to pronounce that his mind is well informed,
enjoyment of books exceedingly great, his imagination life, his observation
just and correct, and his taste delicate and pure. His
abilities in every respect improve as much upon acquaintance as

(32:08):
his manners and person at first sight, his address is
certainly not striking, and his person can hardly be called
handsome till the expression of his eyes, which are uncommonly good,
and the general sweetness of his countenance is perceived. At present,
I know him so well that I think him really handsome,
or at least almost so. What say you, mary Anne,

(32:32):
I shall very soon think him handsome, Eleanor, If I
do not now, when you tell me to love him
as a brother, I shall no more see imperfection in
his face than I now do in his heart. Eleanor
started at this declaration and was sorry for the want
she had been betrayed into In speaking of him. She
felt that Edward stood very high in her opinion. She

(32:52):
believed the regard to be mutual, but she required greater
certainty of it to make mary Anne's conviction of their
attachment agreeable to her. She knew that what mary Anne
and her mother conjectured one moment, they believed the next
that with them, to wish was to hope, and to
hope was to expect. She tried to explain the real
state of the case to her sister. I do not

(33:13):
attempt to deny, said she, that I think very highly
of him, that I greatly esteem that I like him.
Mary Anne here burst forth with indignation, esteem him like
him cold hearted, Eleanor, oh worse than cold hearted, ashamed
of being otherwise. Use those words again, and I will

(33:34):
leave the.

Speaker 2 (33:34):
Room this moment. Eleanor could not help laughing.

Speaker 1 (33:38):
Excuse me, said she, And be assured that I meant
no offense to you by speaking in so quiet a
way of my own feelings. Believe them to be stronger
than I have declared. Believe them, in short, to be
such as his merit and the suspicion the hope of
his affection for me may warrant without imprudence or folly.
But farther than this, you must not believe I am,

(34:00):
by no means assured of his regard for me. There
are moments when the extent of it seems doubtful, And
till his sentiments are fully known, you cannot wonder at
my wishing to avoid any encouragement of my own partiality
by believing or calling it more than it is in
my heart. I feel little, scarcely any doubt of his preference.

(34:21):
But there are other points to be considered besides his inclination.
He is very far from being independent. What his mother
really is we cannot know, but from Fanny's occasional mention
of her conduct and opinions, we have never been disposed
to think her amiable. And I am very much mistaken
if Edward is not himself aware that there would be
many difficulties in his way if he were to wish

(34:43):
to marry a woman who had not either a great
fortune or a high rank. Mary Anne was astonished to
find how much the imagination of her mother and herself
had outstripped the truth. And you really are not engaged
to him, said she. Yet it certainly soon will happen.
But to advantages will proceed from this delay. I shall
not lose you so soon, and Edward will have greater

(35:05):
opportunity of improving that natural taste for your favorite pursuit,
which must be so indispensably necessary to your future felicity. Oh,
if he should be so fast stimulated by your genius
as to learn to draw himself, how delightful it would be.
Eleanor had given her real opinion to her sister. She
could not consider her partiality for Edward in so prosperous

(35:26):
a state as mary Anne had believed it. There was
at times a want of spirits about him, which, if
it did not denote indifference, spoke of something almost as unpromising,
a doubt of her regard. Supposing him to feel it
need not give him more than inquietude. It would not
be likely to produce that dejection of mind which frequently
attended him. A more reasonable cause might be found in

(35:49):
the dependent situation which forbade the indulgence of his affection.
She knew that his mother neither behaved to himsel as
to make his home comfortable at presents, nor to give
him any assurance that he might form a home for
himself without strictly attending to her views for his aggrandizement.
With such a knowledge as this, it was impossible for
Eleanor to feel easy on the subject. She was far

(36:11):
from depending on that result of his preference of her,
which her mother and sister still considered as certain. Nay,
the longer they were together, the more doubtful seemed the
nature of his regard, and sometimes for a few painful
minutes she believed it to be no more than friendship.
But whatever might really be its limits, it was enough,

(36:32):
when perceived by his sister to make her uneasy, and
at the same time, which was still more common, to
make her uncivil. She took the first opportunity of affronting
her mother in law on the occasion, talking to her
so expressively of her brother's great expectations, of Missus Ferrers's
resolution that both her sons should marry well, and of
the danger attending any young woman who attempted to draw

(36:53):
him in that Missus Dashwood could neither pretend to be
unconscious nor endeavor to be calm. She gave her an
answer which marked her contempt, and instantly left the room,
resolving that whatever might be the inconvenience or expense of
so sudden a removal, her beloved Eleanor should not be
exposed another week to such insinuations. In this state of

(37:15):
her spirits, a letter was delivered to her from the
post which contained a proposal particularly well timed. It was
the offer of a small house on very easy terms,
belonging to a relation of her own, a gentleman of
consequence and property in Devonshire. The letter was from this
gentleman himself, and written in the true spirit of friendly accommodation.

(37:36):
He understood that she was in need of a dwelling,
and though the house he now offered her was merely
a cottage, he assured her that everything should be done
to it which she might think necessary if the situation
pleased her. He earnestly pressed her, after giving the particulars
of the house and garden, to come with her daughters
to Barton Park, the place of his own residence, from
whence she might judge herself where the Barton Cottage, for

(37:58):
the houses were in the same parish, could by any alteration,
be made comfortable to her. He seemed really anxious to
accommodate them, and the whole of his letter was written
in so friendly a style as could not fail of
giving pleasure to his cousin. More especially at a moment
when she was suffering under the cold and unfeeling behavior
of her nearer connections, She needed no time for deliberation

(38:20):
or inquiry. Her resolution was formed as she read the
situation of Barton in a county so far distant from
Sussex as Devonshire, which but a few hours before would
have been a sufficient objection to outweigh every possible advantage
belonging to the place, was now its first recommendation to quit.
The neighborhood of Norland was no longer an evil, It

(38:41):
was an object of desire. It was a blessing in
comparison of the misery of continuing her daughter in law's guest,
And to remove forever from that beloved place would be
less painful than to inhabit or visit it while such
a woman was its mistress. She instantly wrote Sir John
Middleton her acknowledgment of his kindness and her accept of
his proposal, and then hastened to show both letters to

(39:03):
her daughters that she might be secure of their approbation.
Before her answer was sent. Eleanor had always thought it
would be more prudent for them to settle at some
distance from Norland than immediately amongst their present acquaintance. On
that head, therefore, it was not for her to oppose
her mother's intention of removing into Devonshire. The house, too,
as described by Sir John, was on so simple a scale,

(39:26):
and the rent so uncommonly moderate, as to leave her
no right of objection on either point. And therefore, though
it was not a plan which brought any charm to
her fancy, though it was a removal from the vicinity
of Norland beyond her wishes. She made no attempt to
dissuade her mother from sending a letter of acquiescence end
of chapter four, Chapter five of Sense and Sensibility by

(39:55):
Jane Austen. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain
recording by Karen Savage, Chapter five. No sooner was her
answer despatched than Missus Dashwould indulged herself in the pleasure
of announcing to her son in law and his wife
that she was provided with a house and should incommode
them no longer than till everything were ready for her

(40:17):
inhabiting it. They heard her with surprise. Missus John Dashwood
said nothing, but her husband civilly hoped that she would
not be settled far from Norland. She had great satisfaction
in replying that she was going into Devonshire. Edward turned
hastily towards her on hearing this, and, in a voice
of surprise and concern which required no explanation to her, repeated, Devonshire,

(40:39):
are you indeed going there? So far from hence? And
to what part of it? She explained the situation. It
was within four miles northward of Exeter. It is but
a cottage she continued, but I hope to see many
of my friends in it. A room or two can
easily be added. And if my friends find no difficulty
in traveling so far to see me, I am sure

(41:01):
I will find none in accommodating them. She concluded with
a very kind invitation to mister and missus John Dashwood
to visit her at Barton, and to Edward she gave
one with still greater affection. Though her late conversation with
her daughter in law had made her resolve on remaining
at Norland no longer than was unavoidable, it had not
produced the smallest effect on her in that point to

(41:22):
which it principally tended to separate. Edward and Eleanor was
as far from being her object as ever, and she
wished to show Missus John Dashwood by this pointed invitation
to her brother how totally she disregarded her disapprobation of
the match. Mister John Dashwood told his mother again and
again how exceedingly sorry he was that she had taken

(41:42):
a house at such a distance from Norland as to
prevent his being of any service to her in removing
her furniture. He really felt conscientiously vexed on the occasion
for the very exertion to which he had limited The
performance of his promise to his father was by this
arrangement rendered impracticable. The furniture was all sent around by water.

(42:03):
It chiefly consisted of household linen, plate, china, and books,
with a handsome piano forty of mary Anne's. Missus John
Dashwood saw the packages depart with a sigh. She could
not help feeling it hard that, as Missus Dashwood's income
would be so trifling in comparison with their own, she
should have any handsome article of furniture. Missus Dashwood took

(42:24):
the house for a twelvemonth. It was ready furnished, and
she might have immediate possession. No difficulty arose on either
side in the agreement, and she waited only for the
disposal of her effects at Norland and to determine her
future household before she set off for the West. And this,
as she was exceedingly rapid in the performance of everything
that interested her, was soon done. The horses which were

(42:47):
left her by her husband had been sold soon after
his death, and an opportunity now offering of disposing of
her carriage, she agreed to sell that likewise at the
earnest advice of her eldest daughter for the comfort of
her children. Had she consulted only her own wishes, she
would have kept it. But the discretion of Eleanor prevailed
her wisdom too. Limited the number of their servants to three,

(43:10):
two maids and a man, with whom they were speedily
provided from amongst those who had formed their establishment at Norland.
The man and one of the maids were sent off
immediately into Devonshire to prepare the house for their mistress's arrival.
For as Lady Middleton was entirely unknown to missus Dashwood,
she preferred going directly to the cottage to being a

(43:31):
visitor at Barton Park, and she relied so undoubtingly on
Sir John's description of the house as to feel no
curiosity to examine it herself till she entered it as
her own. Her eagerness to be gone from Norland was
preserved from diminution by the evident satisfaction of her daughter
in law in the prospect of her removal, a satisfaction

(43:51):
which was but feebly attempted to be concealed under a
cold invitation to her to defer her departure. Now was
the time when her son in law's as to his
father might, with particular propriety be fulfilled, since he had
neglected to do it on first coming to the estate.
Their quitting his house might be looked on as the
most suitable period for its accomplishment. But Missus Dashwood began

(44:13):
shortly to give over every hope of the kind, and
to be convinced from the general drift of his discourse
that his assistance extended no farther than their maintenance for
six months at Norland. He so frequently talked of the
increasing expenses of housekeeping, and of the perpetual demands upon
his purse, which a man of any consequence in the
world was beyond calculation exposed to that he seemed rather

(44:36):
to stand in need of more money himself than to
have any design of giving money away. In a very
few weeks from the day which brought Sir John Middleton's
first letter to Norland, everything was so far settled in
their future abode as to enable Missus Dashwood and her
daughters to begin their journey. Many were the tears shed
by them in their last adieus to a place so

(44:57):
much beloved dear, dear Orland, said Mary Anne, as she
wandered alone before the house on the last evening of
their being there. When shall I cease to regret you?
When learn to feel a home elsewhere? Oh happy house?
Could you know what I suffer in now viewing you
from this spot? From whence? Perhaps I may view you
no more? And you ye well known trees, But you

(45:21):
will continue the same. No leaf will decay because we
are removed, nor any branch become motionless, although we can
observe you no longer. No, you will continue the same,
unconscious of the pleasure or the regret you occasion, and
insensible of any change in those who walk under your shade,
but who will remain to enjoy you? End of chapter five,

(45:50):
Chapter six of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. This
LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Karen Savage.
Chapter six. The first part of their journey was performed
in too melancholy a disposition to be otherwise than tedious
and unpleasant. But as they drew towards the end of it,

(46:10):
their interest in the appearance of a country which they
were to inhabit overcame their dejection, and a view of
Barton Valley as they entered it gave them cheerfulness. It
was a pleasant, fertile spot, well wooded and rich in pasture.
After winding along it for more than a mile, they
reached their own house. A small green court was the

(46:31):
whole of its domain in front, and a neat wicket
gate admitted them into it as a house. Barton Cottage,
though small, was comfortable and compact, but as a cottage
it was defective, for the building was regular, the roof
was tiled, the window shutters were not painted green, nor
were the walls covered with honeysuckles. A narrow passage led

(46:54):
directly through the house into the garden behind. On each
side of the entrance was a sitting room about sixteen
feet square, and beyond them were the offices and the stairs.
Four bedrooms and two garrets formed the rest of the house.
It had not been built many years and was in
good repair. In comparison of Norland. It was poor and small, indeed,

(47:16):
but the tears which recollection called forth as they entered
the house were soon dried away. They were cheered by
the joy of the servants on their arrival, and each
for the sake of the others, resolved to appear happy.
It was very early in September, the season was fine,
and from first seeing the place under the advantage of
good weather, they received an impression in its favor, which

(47:37):
was of material service in recommending it to their lasting approbation.
The situation of the house was good. High hills rose
immediately behind and at no great distance on each side,
some of which were open downs, the others cultivated and woody.
The village of Barton was chiefly on one of these hills,
and formed a pleasant view from the cottage windows. The

(48:00):
spect in front was more extensive. It commanded the whole
of the valley and reached into the country beyond the
hills which surrounded the cottage. Terminated the valley in that
direction under another name, and in another course it branched
out again between two of the steepest of them. With
the size and furniture of the house, Missus Dashwood was

(48:20):
upon the whole well satisfied, for though her former style
of life rendered many additions to the latter indispensable, yet
to add and improve was a delight to her, and
she had at this time ready money enough to supply
all that was wanted of greater elegance to the apartments.
As for the house itself, to be sure, said she,
it is too small for our family, but we will

(48:42):
make ourselves tolerably comfortable for the present, as it is
too late in the year for improvements. Perhaps in the spring,
if I have plenty of money, as I dare say
I shall, we may think of building. These parlors are
both too small for such parties of our friends, as
I hope to see often collected here, and I have
some thoughts of throwing the passage into one of them,
with perhaps a part of the other, and so leave

(49:04):
the remainder of that other for an entrance. This with
a new drawing room, which may be easily added, and
a bed chamber and garret above, will make it a
very snug little cottage. I could wish the stairs were handsome,
but one must not expect everything, though I suppose it
would be no difficult matter to widen them. I shall
see how much I am beforehand with the world in
the spring, and we will plan our improvements accordingly. In

(49:28):
the meantime till all these alterations could be made from
the savings of an income of five hundred a year
by a woman who never saved in her life. They
were wise enough to be contented with the house as
it was, and each of them was busy in arranging
their particular concerns, and endeavoring by placing around them books
and other possessions to form themselves a home. Mary Anne's

(49:49):
pianoforte was unpacked and properly disposed of, and Eleanor's drawings
were affixed to the walls of their sitting room. In
such employments as these, they were interrupted soon after breakfast
the next time day by the entrance of their landlord,
who called to welcome them to Barton, and to offer
them every accommodation from his own house and garden in
which theirs might at present be deficient. Sir John Middleton

(50:12):
was a good looking man, about forty. He had formerly
visited at Stanhill, but it was too long for his
young cousins to remember him. His countenance was thoroughly good humored,
and his manners were as friendly as the style of
his letter. Their arrival seemed to afford him real satisfaction,
and their comfort to be an object of real solicitude
to him. He said, much of his earnest desire of

(50:33):
their living in the most sociable terms with his family,
and pressed them so cordially to dine at Barton Park
every day till they were better settled at home, that
though his entreaties were carried to a point of perseverance
beyond civility, they could not give offense. His kindness was
not confined to words, for within an hour after he
left them, a large basket full of garden stuff and

(50:54):
fruit arrived from the park, which was followed before the
end of the day by a present of game. He
insisted moreover on conveying all their letters to and from
the post for them, and would not be denied the
satisfaction of sending them his newspaper every day. Lady Middleton
had sent a very civil message by him, denoting her
intention of waiting on missus Dashwood as soon as she

(51:16):
could be assured that her visit would be no inconvenience,
And as this message was answered by an invitation equally polite,
her ladyship was introduced to them the next day. They were,
of course very anxious to see a person on whom
so much of their comfort at Martin must depend, and
the elegance of her appearance was favorable to their wishes.
Lady Middleton was not more than six or seven and twenty.

(51:39):
Her face was handsome, her figure tall and striking, and
her address graceful. Her manners had all the elegance which
her husbands wanted, but they would have been improved by
some share of his frankness and warmth, and her visit
was long enough to detract something from their first admiration
by showing that, though perfectly well bred, she was reserved cold,

(52:00):
and had nothing to say for herself beyond the most
commonplace inquiry or remark. Conversation, however, was not wanted, for
Sir John was very chatty, and Lady Middleton had taken
the wise precaution of bringing with her their eldest child,
a fine little boy about six years old, by which
means there was one subject always to be recurred to
by the ladies in case of extremity, for they had

(52:22):
to inquire his name and aige, admire his beauty, and
ask him questions, which his mother answered for him while
he hung about her and held down his head, to
the great surprise of her ladyship, who wondered at his
being so shy before company as he could make noise
enough at home. On every formal visit, a child ought
to be of the party by way of provision for discourse.

(52:43):
In the present case, it took up to ten minutes
to determine whether the boy were most like his father
or mother, and in what particular he resembled either, For
of course everybody differed, and everybody was astonished at the
opinion of the others. An opportunity was soon to be
given to the Dashwards of debating on the rest of
the children, as Sir John would not leave the house
without securing their promise of dining at the park the

(53:05):
next day. End of chapter six, chapter seven of Sense
and Sensibility by Jane Austen. This LibriVox recording is in
the public domain recording by Karen Savage. Chapter seven. Barton

(53:26):
Park was about half a mile from the cottage. The
ladies had passed near it in their way along the valley,
but it was screened from their view at home by
the projection of a hill. The house was large and handsome,
and the Middletons lived in a style of equal hospitality
and elegance. The former was for Sir John's gratification, the
latter for that of his lady. They were scarcely, ever,

(53:49):
without some friends staying with them in the house, and
they kept more company of every kind than any other
family in the neighborhood. It was necessary to the happiness
of both, for, however dissimilar in temper and outward behavior,
they strongly resembled each other in that total want of
talent and taste which confined their employments. Unconnected with such

(54:09):
a society produced within a very narrow compass. Sir John
was a sportsman, Lady Middleton a mother. He hunted and shot,
and she humored her children, and these were their only resources.
Lady Middleton had the advantage of being able to spoil
her children all the year round, while Sir John's independent
employments were in existence only half the time. Continual engagements

(54:34):
at home and abroad, however, supplied all the deficiencies of
nature and education, supported the good spirits of Sir John,
and gave exercise to the good breeding of his wife.
Lady Middleton piqued herself upon the elegance of her table
and of all her domestic arrangements, and from this kind
of vanity was her greatest enjoyment in any of their parties.

(54:55):
But Sir John's satisfaction in society was much more real.
Delighted in collecting about him more young people than his
house would hold, and the noisier they were, the better
he was pleased. He was a blessing to all the
juvenile part of the neighborhood, for in summer he was
forever forming parties to eat cold ham and chicken out
of doors, and in winter his private balls were numerous

(55:18):
enough for any young lady who was not suffering under
the insatiable appetite of fifteen. The arrival of a new
family in the country was always a matter of joy
to him, and in every point of view, he was
charmed with the inhabitants he had now procured for his
cottage at Barton. The miss Dashwoods were young, pretty and unaffected.

(55:38):
It was enough to secure his good opinion, for to
be unaffected was all that a pretty girl could want,
to make her mind as captivating as her person. The
friendliness of his disposition made him happy in accommodating those
whose situation might be considered in comparison with the past,
as unfortunate, in showing kindness to his cousins. Therefore, he

(55:59):
had the real satisfaction of a good heart, and in
settling a family of females only in his cottage, he
had all the satisfaction of a sportsman for a sportsman,
though he esteems only those of his sex who are sportsmen. Likewise,
is not often desirous of encouraging their taste by admitting
them to a residence within his own manner. Missus Dashwood

(56:20):
and her daughters were met at the door of the
house by Sir John, who welcomed them to Barton Park
with unaffected sincerity, and as he attended them to the
drawing room, repeated to the young ladies the concern which
the same subject had drawn from him the day before
at being unable to get any smart young men to
meet them. They would see, he said, only one gentleman
there besides himself, a particular friend who was staying at

(56:43):
the park, but who was neither very young nor very gay.
He hoped they would all excuse the smallness of the party,
and could assure them it should never happen. So again.
He had been to several families that morning in hopes
of procuring some addition to their number, but it was
moonlight and everybody was full of engagements. Luckily, Lady Middleton's

(57:04):
mother had arrived at Barton within the last hour, and
as she was a very cheerful, agreeable woman, he hoped
the young ladies would not find it so very dull
as they might imagine. The young ladies, as well as
their mother, were perfectly satisfied with having two entire strangers
of the party, and wished for no more. Missus Jennings,
Lady Middleton's mother, was a good humored, merry, fat elderly

(57:27):
woman who talked a great deal, seemed very happy and
rather vulgar. She was full of jokes and laughter, and
before dinner was over, had said many witty things on
the subject of lovers and husbands, hoped they had not
left their hearts behind them in Sussex, and pretended to
see them blush whether they did or not. Mary Anne
was vexed at it for her sister's sake, and turned

(57:50):
her eyes toward Eleanor to see how she bore these
attacks with an earnestness, which gave Eleanor far more pain
than could arise from such commonplace raillery as Missus Jennings's.
Colonel Brandon, the friend of Sir John, seemed no more
adapted by resemblance of Manner to be his friend, than
Lady Middleton was to be his wife, or Missus Jennings

(58:10):
to be Lady Middleton's mother. He was silent and grave.
His appearance, however, was not unpleasing, in spite of his being,
in the opinion of mary Anne and Margaret, an absolute
old bachelor, for he was on the wrong side of
five and thirty. But though his face was not handsome,
his countenance was sensible, and his address was particularly gentlemanlike.

(58:31):
There was nothing in any of the party which could
recommend them as companions to the Dashwoods. But the cold
insipidity of Lady Middleton was so particularly repulsive that in
comparison of it, the gravity of Colonel Brandon, and even
the boisterous mirth of Sir John and his mother in
law was interesting. Lady Middleton seemed to be roused to
enjoyment only by the entrance of her four noisy children

(58:54):
after dinner, who pulled her about, tore her clothes, and
put an end to every kind of discourse except what
related to themselves. In the evening, as mary Anne was
discovered to be musical, she was invited to play the
instrument was unlocked, everybody prepared to be charmed, and mary Anne,
who sang very well at their request, went through the

(59:15):
chief of the songs which Lady Middleton had brought into
the family on her marriage, and which perhaps had lain
ever since in the same position on the pianoforte, for
her ladyship had celebrated that event by giving up music,
although by her mother's account she had played extremely well
and by her own was very fond of it. Mary
Anne's performance was highly applauded. Sir John was loud in

(59:36):
his admiration at the end of every song, and as
loud in his conversation with the others while every song lasted.
Lady Middleton frequently called him to order, wondered how any
one's attention could be diverted from music for a moment,
and asked mary Anne to sing a particular song which
mary Anne had just finished. Colonel Brandon, alone of all
the party, heard her without being in raptures. He paid

(01:00:00):
her only the compliment of attention, and she felt a
respect for him on the occasion which the others had
reasonably forfeited by their shameless want of taste his pleasures
in music, though it amounted not to that ecstatic delight,
which alone could sympathize with her own, was estimable when
contrasted against the horrible insensibility of the others. And she

(01:00:21):
was reasonable enough to allow that a man of five
and thirty might well have outlived all acuteness of feeling
and every exquisite power of enjoyment. She was perfectly disposed
to make every allowance for the Colonel's advanced state of
life which humanity required. End of chapter seven, Chapter eight

(01:00:45):
of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. This LibriVox recording
is in the public domain recording by Karen Savage. Chapter eight.
Missus Jennings was a widow with an ample jointure. She
had only two doors daughters, both of whom she had
lived to see respectably married, and she had now therefore
nothing to do but to marry all the rest of

(01:01:07):
the world in the promotion of this object, she was
zealously active as far as her ability reached, and missed
no opportunity of projecting weddings among all the young people
of her acquaintance. She was remarkably quick in the discovery
of attachments, and had enjoyed the advantage of raising the
blushes and the vanity of many a young lady by

(01:01:28):
insinuations of her power over such a young man, and
this kind of discernment enabled her, soon after her arrival
at Barton, decisively to pronounce that Colonel Brandon was very
much in love with mary Anne Dashwood. She rather suspected
it to be so on the very first evening of
their being together, from his listening so attentively while she
sang to them, and when the visit was returned by

(01:01:50):
the Middletons dining at the cottage, the fact was ascertained
by his listening to her again. It must be so.
She was perfectly convinced of it. It would be an
excellent match, for he was rich and she was handsome.
Missus Jennings had been anxious to see Colonel Brandon well
married ever since her connection with Sir John first brought
him to her knowledge, and she was always anxious to

(01:02:12):
get a good husband for every pretty girl. The immediate
advantage to herself was by no means inconsiderable, for it
supplied her with endless jokes against them both at the
park she laughed at the.

Speaker 2 (01:02:23):
Colonel and in the cottage at mary.

Speaker 1 (01:02:25):
Anne to the former her raillery was probably as far
as it regarded only himself, perfectly indifferent. But to the
latter it was at first incomprehensible, and when its object
was understood, she hardly knew whether most to laugh at
his absurdity or censure its impertinence, for she considered it
as an unfeeling reflection on the colonel's advanced years and

(01:02:46):
on his forlorn condition as an old bachelor. Missus Dashwood,
who could not think a man five years younger than
herself so exceedingly ancient as he appeared, to the youthful
fancy of her daughter, ventured to clear Missus Jennings from
the proper ability of wishing to throw ridicule on his age.
But at least, Mamma, you cannot deny the absurdity of
the accusation, though you may not think it intentionally ill natured.

(01:03:10):
Colonel Brandon is certainly younger than Missus Jennings, but he
is old enough to be my father, and if he
were ever animated enough to be in love, must have
long outlived every sensation of the kind. It is too ridiculous.
When is a man to be safe from such wit?
If age and infirmity will not protect him. Infirmity, said Eleanor.
Do you call Colonel Brandon infirm? I can easily suppose

(01:03:33):
that his age may appear much greater to you than
to my mother. But you can hardly deceive yourself as
to his having the use of his limbs? Did you
not hear him complain of the rheumatism? And is not
that the commonest infirmity of declining life, my dearest child,
said her mother, laughing. At this rate, you must be
in continual terror of my decay, and it must seem

(01:03:54):
to you a miracle that my life has been extended
to the advanced age of forty. Mamma, you are not
doing me justice. I know very well that Colonel Brandon
is not old enough to make his friends, yet apprehensive
of losing him in the course of nature, he may
live twenty years longer. But thirty five has nothing to
do with matrimony, perhaps, said Eleanor. Thirty five and seventeen

(01:04:16):
had better not have anything to do with matrimony together.
But if there should, by any chance happen to be
a woman who is single at seven and twenty, but
I should not think Colonel Brandon's being thirty five, any
objection to his marrying her. A woman of seven and twenty,
said Mary Anne, after pausing a moment, can never hope
to feel or inspire affection again. And if her home

(01:04:36):
be uncomfortable or her fortune small, I can suppose that
she might bring herself to submit to the offices of
a nurse for the sake of the provision and security
of a wife. In his marrying such a woman, therefore,
there would be nothing unsuitable. It would be a compact
of convenience, and the world would be satisfied. In my eyes,
it would be no marriage at all, But that would

(01:04:57):
be nothing to me. It would seem only a commercial
exchange in which each wished to be benefited at the
expense of the other. It would be impossible, I know,
replied Eleanor to convince you that a woman of seven
and twenty could feel for a man of thirty five
anything near enough to love, to make him a desirable
companion to her. But I must object to your dooming
Colonel Brandon and his wife to the constant confinement of

(01:05:20):
a sick chamber, merely because he chanced to complain yesterday,
a very cold, damp day of a slight rheumatic feel
in one of his shoulders. But he talked to flannel waistcoats,
said mary Anne, and with me. A flannel waistcoat is
invariably connected with aches, cramps, rheumatisms, and every species of
ailment that can afflict the old and the feeble. Had

(01:05:42):
he been only in a violent fever, you would not
have despised him half so much. Confess, mary Anne, is
there not something interesting to you in the flushed cheek,
hollow eye, and quick pulse of a fever. Soon after this,
upon Eleanor's leaving the room, Mamma said mary Anne, I
have an alarm on the subject of illness, which I
cannot conceal from you. I am sure Edward Ferrars is

(01:06:05):
not well. We have now been here almost a fortnight,
and yet he does not come. Nothing but real indisposition
could occasion this extraordinary delay. What else can detain him
at Norland? Had you any idea of his coming so soon?
Said missus Dashwood. I had none. On the contrary. If
I have felt any anxiety at all on the subject,
it has been in recollecting that he sometimes showed a

(01:06:27):
want of pleasure and readiness in accepting my invitation. When
I talked of his coming to Barton, does Eleanor expect
him already? I have never mentioned it to her, but
of course she must. I rather think you are mistaken,
for when I was talking to her yesterday of getting
a new grate for the spare bed chamber, she observed
that there was no immediate hurry for it, as it
was not likely that the room would be wanted for

(01:06:49):
some time. How strange this is, what can be the
meaning of it? But the whole of their behavior to
each other has been unaccountable. How cold, how composed were
their lasted years, how languid their conversation. The last evening
of their being together in Edward's farewell, there was no
distinction between Eleanor and me. It was the good wishes

(01:07:10):
of an affectionate brother to both. Twice did I leave
them purposely together in the course of the last morning,
And each time did he most unaccountably follow me out
of the room. And Eleanor, in quitting Norland and Edward,
cried not as I did. Even now her self. Command
is invariable. When is she dejected or melancholy? When does
she try to avoid society or appear restless and dissatisfied

(01:07:32):
in it end of chapter eight, chapter nine of Sense
and Sensibility by Jane Austen. This LibriVox recording is in
the public domain recording by Karen Savage. Chapter nine. The
Dashwoods were now settled at Marton, with tolerable comfort to themselves.

(01:07:56):
The house and the garden, with all the objects surrounding them,
were now become familiar, and the ordinary pursuits which had
given to Norland half its charms, were engaged in again,
with far greater enjoyment than Norland had been able to
afford since the loss of their father. Sir John Middleton,
who called on them every day for the first fortnight
and was not in the habit of seeing much occupation

(01:08:17):
at home, could not conceal his amazement on finding them
always employed. Their visitors, except those from Barton Park, were
not many, for in spite of Sir John's urgent entreaties
that they would mix more in the neighborhood and repeated
assurances of his carriage being always at their service, the
independence of Missus Dashwood's spirit overcame the wish of society

(01:08:38):
for her children, and she was resolute in declining to
visit any family beyond the distance of a walk. There
were but few who could be so classed, and it
was not all of them that were attainable. About a
mile and a half from the cottage, along the narrow,
winding valley of Allenham, which issued from that of Barton,
as formerly described, the girls had, in one of their

(01:08:59):
earliest war discovered an ancient, respectable looking mansion, which, by
reminding them a little of Norland, interested their imagination and
made them wish to be better acquainted with it. But
they learned on inquiry that its possessor, an elderly lady
of very good character, was unfortunately too infirm to mix
with the world, and never stirred from home. The whole

(01:09:22):
country about them abounded in beautiful walks, the high downs,
which invited them from almost every window of the cottage
to seek the exquisite enjoyment of air on their summits,
were a happy alternative when the dirt of the valleys
beneath shut up their superior beauties. And towards one of
these hills did Mary Anne and Margaret one memorable morning
direct their steps, attracted by the partial sunshine of a

(01:09:44):
showery day, and unable longer to bear the confinement which
the settled reign of the two preceding days had occasioned.
The weather was not tempting enough to draw the two
others from their pencil and their book, in spite of
mary Anne's declaration that the day would be lastingly fair
and that every threatening cloud would be drawn off from
their hills, and the two girls set off together. They

(01:10:05):
gaily ascended the downs, rejoicing in their own penetration at
every glimpse of blue sky, and when they caught in
their faces the animating gales of a high southwesterly wind,
they pitied the fears which had prevented their mother and
Eleanor from sharing such delightful sensations. Is there a felicity
in the world, said mary Anne, superior to this, Margaret,

(01:10:27):
We will walk here at least two hours. Margaret agreed,
and they pursued their way against the wind, resisting it
with laughing delight for about twenty minutes longer, when suddenly
the clouds united over their heads and a driving rain
set full in their face. Chagrined and surprised, they were obliged,
though unwillingly, to turn back, for no shelter was nearer

(01:10:48):
than their own house. One consolation, however, remained to them,
to which the exigence of the moment gave more than
usual propriety. It was that of running with all possible
speed down the seat deep side of the hill which
led immediately to their garden gate. They set off. Mary
Anne had at first the advantage, but a false step
brought her suddenly to the ground, and Margaret, unable to

(01:11:11):
stop herself to assist her, was involuntarily hurried along and
reached the bottom in safety. A gentleman carrying a gun
with two pointers playing round him, was passing up the
hill and within a few yards of mary Anne when
her accident happened. He put down his gun and ran
to her assistance. She had raised herself from the ground,
but her foot had been twisted in her fall, and

(01:11:32):
she was scarcely able to stand. The gentleman offered his services, and,
perceiving that her modesty declined what her situation rendered necessary,
took her up in his arms without further delay, and
carried her down the hill. Then, passing through the garden,
the gate of which had been left open by Margaret,
he bore her directly into the house whither Margaret was
just arrived, and quitted not his hold till he had

(01:11:55):
seated her in a chair in the parlor. Eleanor and
her mother rose up in amazement at their entrance, and
while the eyes of both were fixed on him with
an evident wonder and a secret admiration which equally sprung
from his appearance, he apologized for his intrusion by relating
its cause in a manner so frank and so graceful
that his person, which was uncommonly handsome, received additional charms

(01:12:18):
from his voice and expression. Had he been even old, ugly,
and vulgar, the gratitude and kindness of Missus Dashwood would
have been secured by any act of attention to her child.
But the influence of youth, beauty, and elegance gave an
interest to the action which came home to her feelings.
She thanked him again and again, and with a sweetness

(01:12:38):
of address which always attended her, invited him to be seated,
But this he declined, as he was dirty and wet.
Missus Dashwood then begged to know to whom she was obliged.
His name, he replied, was Willoughby, and his present home
was at allanum, from whence he hoped she would allow
him the honor of calling to morrow to inquire after
Miss Dashwood. The honor was readily granted, and he then

(01:13:00):
departed to make himself still more interesting in the midst
of a heavy rain. His manly beauty and more than
common gracefulness were instantly the theme of general admiration, and
the laugh which his gallantry raised against mary Anne received
particular spirit from his exterior attractions. Mari Anne herself had
seen less of his person than the rest, for the

(01:13:22):
confusion which crimsoned over her face on his lifting her
up had robbed her of the power of regarding him
after their entering the house. But she had seen enough
of him to join in all the admiration of the others,
and with an energy which always adorned her praise. His
person and heir were equal to what her fancy had
ever drawn for the hero of a favorite story, And
in his carrying her into the house with so little

(01:13:44):
previous formality, there was a rapidity of thought which particularly
recommended the action to her. Every circumstance belonging to him
was interesting, His name was good, his residence was in
their favorite village, and she soon found out that of
all manly dresses, a shooting jacket was the most becoming.
Her imagination was busy, her reflections were pleasant, and the

(01:14:06):
pain of a sprained ankle was disregarded. Sir John called
on them as soon as the next interval of fair
weather that morning allowed him to get out of doors,
and mary Anne's accident being related to him, he was
eagerly asked whether he knew any gentleman of the name
of Willoughby at Allenham Willoughby, cried Sir John. What is
he in the country? That is good news? However, I

(01:14:27):
will ride over to morrow and ask him to dinner
on Thursday. You know him, then, said missus Dashwood know him,
to be sure? I do? Why he is down here
every year? And what sort of a young man is he?
As good a kind of fellow as ever lived? I
assure you a very decent shot, and there is not
a bolder rider in England. And is that all you
can say for him? Cried mary Anne indignantly. But what

(01:14:49):
are his manners on more intimate acquaintance? What his pursuits?
His talents and genius? Sir John was rather puzzled pon
my soul, said he, I do not know much about
him as to all that, but he is a pleasant,
good humored fellow, and has got the nicest little black
bitch of a pointer I ever saw. Was she out
with him to day? But mary Anne could no more
satisfy him as to the color of mister Willoughby's pointer

(01:15:11):
than he could ascribe to her the shades of his mind.
But who is he, said eleanor where does he come from?
Has he a house at Allenham? On this point, Sir
John could give more certain intelligence, and he told them
that mister Willoughby had no property of his own in
the country, that he resided there only while he was
visiting the old lady at Allenham Court, to whom he
was related, and whose possessions he was to inherit, adding, yes, yes,

(01:15:35):
he is.

Speaker 2 (01:15:36):
Very well worth catching.

Speaker 1 (01:15:37):
I can tell you, Miss Dashwood, he has a pretty
little estate of his own in Somersetshire. Besides, and if
I were you, I would not give him up to
my younger sister. In spite of all this tumbling down hills,
Miss mary Anne must not expect to have all the
men to herself. Brandon will be jealous if she does
not take care. I do not believe, said missus Dashwood,
with a good humored smile, that mister Willoughby will be

(01:15:58):
incommoded by the attempts of ice of my daughters towards
what you call catching him. It is not an employment
to which they have been brought up. Men are very
safe with us, let them be ever so rich. I
am glad to find, however, from what you say, that
he is a respectable young man, and one whose acquaintance
will not be ineligible. He is as good a sort
of fellow I believe as ever lived, repeated Sir John.

(01:16:20):
I remember last Christmas at a little hop in the park.
He danced from eight o'clock until.

Speaker 2 (01:16:25):
Four without once sitting down.

Speaker 1 (01:16:27):
Did he indeed? Cried Mary Anne with sparkling eyes and
with elegance with spirit. Yes, and he was up again
a date to write to Covet. That is what I like.
That is what a young man ought to be. Whatever
his pursuits, his eagerness in them should show no moderation
and leave him no sense of fatigue. Aye aye, I
see how it will be, said Sir John. I see

(01:16:49):
how it will be. You will be setting your cap
at him now, and never think of poor Brandon. That
is an expression, Sir John, said mary Anne warmly, which
I particularly dislike. I abhor every commonplace phrase by which
wit is intended, and setting one's cap at a man
or making a conquest are the most odious of all.
Their tendency is gross and illiberal, and if their construction

(01:17:11):
could ever be deemed clever, time has long ago destroyed
all its ingenuity. Sir John did not much understand this reproof,
but he laughed as heartily as if he did, and
then replied, Ah, you will make conquests enough, I dare say,
one way or another. Poor Brandon. He is quite smitten already,
and he is very well worth setting your cap at,
I can tell you in spite of all this tumbling

(01:17:32):
about and spraining of ankles. End of chapter nine, Chapter
ten of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. This LibriVox
recording is in the public domain recording by Karen Savage.
Chapter ten, Mary Anne's preserver as Margaret with more elegance

(01:17:55):
than precision styled Willoughby called at the cottage early the
next morning to make his personal enquiries. He was received
by Missus Dashwood with more than politeness, with a kindness
which Sir John's account of him and her own gratitude prompted,
and everything that passed during the visit tended to assure
him of the sense elegance, mutual affection, and domestic comfort

(01:18:16):
of the family to whom accident had now introduced him
of their personal charms. He had not required a second
interview to be convinced. Miss Dashwood had a delicate complexion,
regular features, and a remarkably pretty figure. Mary Anne was
still handsomer. Her form, though not so correct as her sisters,
in having the advantage of height, was more striking, and

(01:18:37):
her face was so lovely that when in the common
count of praise she was called a beautiful girl, truth
was less violently outraged than usually happens. Her skin was
very brown, but from its transparency, her complexion was uncommonly brilliant.
Her features were all good, her smile was sweet and attractive,
and in her eyes, which were very dark, there was

(01:18:59):
a life, a spirit, an eagerness which could hardly be
seen without delight from Willoughby. Their expression was at first
held back by the embarrassment which the remembrance of his
assistants created. But when this passed away, when her spirits
became collected, when she saw that to the perfect good
breeding of the gentleman, he united frankness and vivacity, and

(01:19:19):
above all, when she heard him declare that of music
and dancing he was passionately fond. She gave him such
a look of approbation as secured the largest share of
his discourse to herself. For the rest of his day.
It was only necessary to mention any favorite amusement to
engage her to talk. She could not be silent when
such points were introduced, and she had neither shyness nor reserve.

(01:19:40):
In their discussion, they speedily discovered that their enjoyment of
dancing and music was mutual, and that it arose from
a general conformity of judgment in all that related to either.
Encouraged by this to a further examination of his opinions,
she proceeded to question him on the subject of books.
Her favorite authors were brought forward and dwell upon with
so rapturous a delight that any young man of five

(01:20:03):
and twenty must have been insensible, indeed not to become
an immediate convert to the excellence of such works. However,
disregarded before their taste was strikingly alike. The same books,
the same passages, were idolized by each. Or if any
difference appeared, any objection arose, it lasted no longer than
till the force of her arguments and the brightness of

(01:20:24):
her eyes could be displayed. He acquiesced in all her decisions,
caught all her enthusiasm, and long before his visit concluded,
they conversed with the familiarity of a long established acquaintance. Well, Mary, Anne,
said Eleanor, as soon as he had left them for
one morning, I think you have done pretty well. You
have already ascertained mister Willoughby's opinion in almost every matter

(01:20:46):
of importance. You know what he thinks of Cowper and Scott.
You are certain of his estimating their beauties as he ought,
and you have received every assurance of his admiring Pope
no more than his proper. But how was your acquaintance
to be long supported under such extraordinary despatch? Of every
subject for discourse? You will soon have exhausted each favorite topic.
Another meeting will suffice to explain his sentiments on picturesque beauty,

(01:21:10):
on second marriages, And then you can have nothing further
to ask Eleanor, cried mary Anne. Is this fair? Is
this just? Are my ideas so scanty? But I see
what you mean. I have been too much at my ease,
too happy, too frank. I have erred against every commonplace
notion of decorum. I have been open and sincere where

(01:21:31):
I ought to have been reserved, spiritless, dull and deceitful.
Had I talked only of the weather in the roads,
and had I spoken only once in ten minutes, this
reproach would have been spared. My love, said her mother.
You must not be offended with Eleanor. She was only
in jest. I should scold him myself if she were
capable of wishing to check the delight of your conversation

(01:21:51):
with our new friend. Mary Anne was softened in a moment. Willoughby,
on his side, gave every proof of his pleasure in
their acquaintance, which evident wish of improving it could offer.
He came to them every day to inquire after mary
Anne was at first his excuse, But the encouragement of
his reception, to which every day gave greater kindness, made
such an excuse unnecessary. Before it had ceased to be

(01:22:14):
possible by mary Anne's perfect recovery. She was confined for
some days to the house, but never had any confinement
been less irksome. Willoughby was a young man of good abilities,
quick imagination, lively spirits, and open affectionate manners. He was
exactly formed to engage mary Anne's heart, for with all
this he joined not only a captivating person, but a

(01:22:37):
natural ardor of mind, which was now roused and increased
by the example of her own, and which recommended him
to her affection beyond everything else. His society became gradually
her most exquisite enjoyment. They read, they talked, they sang together.
His musical talents were considerable, and he read with all
the sensibility and spirit which Edward had unfortunately wanted. In

(01:23:00):
Missus Dashwood's estimation, he was as thoughtless as in mary Anne's,
and Eleanor saw nothing to censure in him but a
propensity in which he strongly resembled and peculiarly delighted her
sister of saying too much what he thought on every occasion,
without attention to persons or circumstances, in hastily forming and
giving his opinion of other people. In sacrificing general politeness

(01:23:22):
to the enjoyment of undivided attention where his heart was engaged,
and in slighting too easily the forms of worldly propriety,
he displayed a want of caution which Eleanor could not approve,
in spite of all that he and mary Anne could
say in its support. Mary Anne began now to perceive
that the desperation which had seized her at sixteen and
a half of ever seeing a man who could satisfy

(01:23:44):
her ideas of perfection had been rash and unjustifiable. Willoughby
was all that her fancy had delineated in that unhappy hour,
and in every brighter period, as capable of attaching her,
and his behavior declared his wishes to be in that
respect as earnest as his abolies were strong. Her mother, too,
in whose mind not one speculative thought of their marriage

(01:24:05):
had been raised by his prospect of riches, was led
before the end of a week to hope and expect it,
and secretly to congratulate herself on having gained two such
sons in law as Edward and Willoughby. Colonel Brandon's partiality
for mary Anne, which had so early been discovered by
his friends. Now first became perceptible to Eleanor. When it

(01:24:25):
ceased to be noticed by them, their attention and wit
were drawn off to his more fortunate rival, and the
raillery which the other had incurred before any partiality arose
was removed when his feelings began really to call for
the ridicule so justly annexed to sensibility. Eleanor was obliged,
though unwillingly, to believe that the sentiments which Missus Jennings

(01:24:46):
had assigned him for her own satisfaction, were now actually
excited by her sister, and that, however a general resemblance
of disposition between the parties, might forward the affection of
mister Willoughby. An equally striking opposition of character was no
hindrance to the regard of Colonel Brandon. She saw it
with concern, for what could a silent man of five

(01:25:07):
and thirty hope when opposed to a very lively one
of five and twenty, And as she could not even
wish him successful, she heartily wished him indifferent. She liked
him in spite of his gravity and reserve. She beheld
in him an object of interest. His manners, though serious,
were mild, and his reserve appeared rather the result of
some oppression of spirits than of any natural gloominess of temper.

(01:25:31):
Sir John had dropped hints of past injuries and disappointments,
which justified her belief of his being an unfortunate man,
and she regarded him with respect and compassion. Perhaps she
pitied and esteemed him the more because he was slighted
by Willoughby and Mary Anne, who prejudiced against him for
being neither lively nor young, seemed resolved to undervalue his merits.

(01:25:53):
Brandon is just the kind of man, said Willoughby one day,
when they were talking of him together, whom everybody speaks
well of and nobody cares about, whom all are delighted
to see, and nobody remembers to talk to. That is
exactly what I think of him, cried Mary Anne. Do
not boast of it, however, said Eleanor, for it is
injustice in both of you. He is highly esteemed by

(01:26:14):
all the family at the park, and I never see
him myself without taking pains to converse with him. That
he is patronized by you, replied Willoughby is certainly in
his favor. But as for the esteem of the others.
It is a reproach in itself. Who would submit to
the indignity of being approved by such a woman as
Lady Middleton and missus Jennings that could command the indifference

(01:26:35):
of anybody else. But perhaps the abuse of such people
as yourself and Mary Anne, will make amends for the
regard of Lady Middleton and her mother. If their praise
is censure, your censure may be praise, for they are
not more undiscerning than you are, prejudiced and unjust. In
defense of your protege, you can even be saucy. My protegee,

(01:26:57):
as you call him, is a sensible man, and sense
will always have attractions for me, Yes, Mary Anne, even
in a man between thirty and forty, he has seen
a great deal of the world, has been abroad, has read,
and has a thinking mind. I have found him capable
of giving me much information on various subjects, and he
has always answered my inquiries with readiness of good breeding

(01:27:18):
and good nature. That is to say, cried Mary Anne contemptuously.
He has told you that in the East Indies the
climate is hot and the mosquitoes are troublesome. He would
have told me so I doubt not had I made
any such inquiries, But there happened to be points on
which I had been previously informed. Perhaps, said Willoughby, his
observations may have extended to the existence of nabobs, gold

(01:27:41):
moors and palanquins. I may venture to say that his
observations have stretched much further than your candor. But why
should you dislike him? I do not dislike him. I
consider him, on the contrary, as a very respectable man,
who has everybody's good word and nobody's notice, who has
more money than he can spend, more time than he

(01:28:02):
knows how to employ, and two new coats every year.
Add to which, cried Mary Anne, he has neither genius,
taste nor spirit. That his understanding has no brilliancy, his
feelings no ardor, and his voice no expression. You decide
on his imperfection so much in the mass, replied Eleanor,
and so much on the strength of your own imagination,

(01:28:24):
that the commendation I am able to give of him
is comparatively cold and insipid. I can only pronounce him
to be a sensible man, well bred, well informed, of
gentle address, and I believe possessing an amiable heart. Miss Dashwood,
cried Willoughby. You are now using me unkindly. You are
endeavoring to disarm me by reason and to convince me

(01:28:44):
against my will.

Speaker 2 (01:28:45):
But it will not do.

Speaker 1 (01:28:47):
You shall find me as stubborn as you can be artful.
I have three unanswerable reasons for disliking Colonel Brandon. He
threatened me with rain when I wanted it to be fine.
He has found fault with the hanging of my curricle,
and I cannot persuade him to by my brown mare.
If it will be any satisfaction to you, however, to
be told that I believe his character to be in
other respects irreproachable, I am ready to confess it, and

(01:29:09):
in return for an acknowledgment which must give me some pain,
you cannot deny me the privilege of disliking him as
much as ever. End of chapter ten. Chapter eleven of
Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. This LibriVox recording is
in the public domain recording by Karen Savage. Chapter eleven.

(01:29:34):
Little had Missus Dashwood or her daughters imagined when they
first came into Devonshire that so many engagements would arise
to occupy their time as shortly presented themselves, or that
they should have such frequent invitations and such constant visitors
as to leave them little leisure for serious employment. Yet
such was the case when mary Anne was recovered. The

(01:29:56):
schemes of amusement at home and abroad, which Sir John
had been previous forming, were put into execution. The private
balls at the park then began, and parties on the
water were made and accomplished as often as a showery
October would allow. In every meeting of the kind, Willoughby
was included, and the ease and familiarity which naturally attended

(01:30:16):
these parties were exactly calculated to give increasing intimacy to
his acquaintance with the Dashwoods, to afford him opportunity of
witnessing the excellencies of Mary Anne, of marking his animated
admiration of her, and of receiving in her behavior to
himself the most pointed assurance of her affection. Eleanor could
not be surprised at their attachment. She only wished that

(01:30:38):
it were less openly shown, and once or twice did
venture to suggest the propriety of some self command to
mary Anne. But mary Anne abhorred all concealment, where no
real disgrace could attend, unreserve, and to aim at the
restraint of sentiments which were not in themselves illaudable, appeared
to her not merely an unnecessary effort, but a disgraceful

(01:30:58):
subjection of reason to commonplace and mistaken notions. Willoughby thought
the same, and their behavior at all times was an
illustration of their opinions. When he was present, she had
no eyes for any one else. Everything he did was right,
everything he said was clever. If their evenings at the
park were concluded with cards, he cheated himself and all

(01:31:20):
the rest of the party to get her a good hand.
If dancing formed the amusement of the night, they were
partners for half the time, and when obliged to separate
for a couple of dances, were careful to stand together,
and scarcely spoke a word to anybody else. Such conduct
made them, of course, most exceedingly laughed at, but ridicule
could not shame, and seemed hardly to provoke them. Missus

(01:31:43):
Dashwood entered into all their feelings with a warmth which
left her no inclination for checking. The successive display of
them to her it was but the natural consequence of
a strong affection in a young and ardent mind. This
was the season of happiness to mary Anne. Her heart
was devoted to Willoughby, and the fond attachment to Norland
which she brought with her from Sussex was more likely

(01:32:05):
to be softened than she had thought it possible before
by the charms which his society bestowed on her present home.
Eleanor's happiness was not so great, her heart was not
so much at ease, nor her satisfaction in their amusements
so pure. They afforded her no companion that could make
amends for what she had left behind, nor that could
teach her to think of Norland with less regret than ever.

(01:32:28):
Neither Lady Middleton nor Missus Jennings could supply to her
the conversation she missed, although the latter was an everlasting talker,
and from the first had regarded her with a kindness
which ensured her a large share of her discourse. She
had already repeated her own history to Eleanor three or
four times, and had Eleanor's memory been equal to her
means of improvement, she might have known very early in

(01:32:50):
their acquaintance all the particulars of mister Jennings's last illness
and what he said to his wife a few minutes
before he died. Lady Middleton was more agreeable than her
mother only in being more silent. Eleanor needed little observation
to perceive that her reserve was a mere calmness of
manner with which sense had nothing to do. Towards her

(01:33:10):
husband and mother, she was the same as to them,
and intimacy was therefore neither to be looked for nor desired.
She had nothing to say one day that she had
not said the day before. Her incipidity was invariable, for
even her spirits were always the same, and though she
did not oppose the parties arranged by her husband, provided
everything were conducted in style and her two eldest children

(01:33:32):
attended her, she never appeared to receive more enjoyment from
them than she might have experienced in sitting at home.
And so little did her presence add to the pleasure
of the others by any share in their conversation, that
they were sometimes only reminded of her being amongst them
by her solicitude about her troublesome boys. In Colonel Brandon
alone of all her new acquaintance. Did Eleanor find a

(01:33:54):
person who could in any degree claim the respect of abilities,
excite the interest of frenchhiphip, or give pleasure as a companion?
Willoughby was out of the question. Her admiration and regard
even her sisterly regard was all his own. But he
was a lover. His attentions were holy mary Anne's, and
a far less agreeable man might have been more generally pleasing.

(01:34:16):
Colonel Brandon, unfortunately for himself, had no such encouragement to
think only of mary Anne, and in conversing with Eleanor
he found the greatest consolation for the indifference of her sister.
Eleanor's compassion for him increased, as she had reason to
suspect that the misery of disappointed love had already been
known to him. This suspicion was given by some words

(01:34:38):
which accidentally dropped from him one evening at the park,
when they were sitting down together by mutual consent, while
the others were dancing. His eyes were fixed on mary Anne,
and after a silence of some minutes, he said, with
a faint smile, your sister, I understand, does not approve
of second attachments. No, replied Eleanor. Her opinions are all romantic,

(01:35:00):
or rather, as I believe, she considers them impossible to exist.
I believe she does, but how she contrives it without
reflecting on the character of her own father, who had
himself two wives. I know not a few years, however,
will settle her opinions on the reasonable basis of common
sense and observation, and then they may be more easy

(01:35:20):
to define and to justify than they now are by
anybody but herself. This will probably be the case, he replied.
And yet there is something so amiable in the prejudices
of a young mind that one is sorry to see
them give way to the reception of more general opinions.
I cannot agree with you, there, said Eleanor. There are
inconveniences attending such feelings as Mary Anne's which all the

(01:35:44):
charms of enthusiasm and ignorance of the world cannot atone.
For her systems have all the unfortunate tendency of setting
propriety at naught, And a better acquaintance with the world
is what I look forward to as her greatest possible advantage.
After a short he resumed the conversation by saying, does
your sister make no distinction in her objections against a

(01:36:06):
second attachment? Or is it equally criminal? In everybody? Are
those who have been disappointed in their first choice, whether
from the inconsistency of its object or the perverseness of circumstances,
to be equally indifferent during the rest of their lives?
Upon my word, I am not acquainted with the magnutia
of her principles. I only know that I have never

(01:36:26):
yet heard her admit any instance of a second attachment's
being pardonable. This said, he cannot hold but a change,
a total change of sentiments. No, no, do not desire it.
For when the romantic refinements of a young mind are
obliged to give way, how frequently are they succeeded by
such opinions as are but too common and too dangerous.

(01:36:48):
I speak from experience. I once knew a lady who,
in temper and mind greatly resembled your sister, who thought
and judged like her, but who, from an enforced change
from a series of unfortunate circumstances here he stopped, suddenly
appeared to think that he had said too much, and
by his countenance gave rise to conjectures which might not

(01:37:10):
otherwise have entered Eleanor's head. The lady would probably have
passed without suspicion had he not convinced Miss Dashwood that
what concerned her ought not to escape his lips. As
it was, it required but a slight effort of fancy
to connect his emotion with the tender recollection of past regard.
Eleanor attempted no more, but mary Anne, in her place,

(01:37:32):
would not have done so little. The whole story would
have been speedily formed under her active imagination, and everything
established in the most melancholy order of disastrous love. End
Chapter eleven, Chapter twelve of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen.

(01:37:54):
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by
Karen Savage, Chapter twelve. As Eleanor and mary Anne were
walking together the next morning, the latter communicated a piece
of news to her sister, which, in spite of all
that she knew before of mary Anne's imprudence and want
of thought, surprised her by its extravagant testimony of both.

(01:38:17):
Mary Anne told her with the greatest delight that Willoughby
had given her a horse, one that he had bred
himself on his estate in Somersetshire, and which was exactly
calculated to carry a woman, without considering that it was
not in her mother's plan to keep any horse, that
if she were to alter her resolution in favor of
this gift, she must buy another for the servant, and

(01:38:37):
keep a servant to ride it, and after all build
a stable to receive them. She had accepted the present
without hesitation, and told her sister of it in raptures.
He intends to send his groom into Somersetshire immediately for it,
she added, and when it arrives, we will ride every day.
You shall share its use with me. Imagine to yourself,
my dear eleanor the delight of a gallop on some

(01:38:59):
of the us. Most unwilling was she to awaken from
such a dream of felicity to comprehend all the unhappy
truths which attended the affair, and for some time she
refused to submit to them. As to an additional servant,
the expense would be a trifle, Mamma, she was sure,
would never object to it, and any horse would do
for him. He might always get one at the park.

(01:39:22):
As to a stable, the merest shd would be sufficient.
Eleanor then ventured to doubt the propriety of her receiving
such a present from a man so little, or at
least so lately known to her. This was too much.
You are mistaken, Eleanor, she said warmly, in supposing I
know very little of Willoughby. I have not known him long, indeed,

(01:39:43):
but I am much better acquainted with him than I
am with any other creature in the world, except yourself
and Mamma. It is not time or opportunity that is
to determine intimacy. It is disposition alone. Seven years would
be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other,
and days are more than enough for others. I should
hold myself guilty of greater impropriety in accepting a horse

(01:40:06):
from my brother than from Willoughby. Of John I know
very little, though we have lived together for years. But
of Willoughby my judgment has long been formed. Eleanor thought
it wisest to touch that point no more. She knew
her sister's temper opposition on so tender a subject would
only attach her the more to her own opinion, but
by an appeal to her affection for her mother, by

(01:40:28):
representing the inconveniences which that indulgent mother must draw on herself, if,
as would probably be the case, she consented to this
increase of establishment. Mary Anne was shortly subdued, and she
promised not to tempt her mother to such imprudent kindness
by mentioning the offer, and to tell Willoughby when she
saw him next that it must be declined. She was

(01:40:49):
faithful to her word, and when Willoughby called the cottage
the same day, Eleanor heard her express her disappointment to
him in a low voice, on being obliged to forego
the acceptance of his present. The reasons for this alteration
were at the same time related, and they were such
as to make further entreaty on his side impossible. His concern, however,
was very apparent, and after expressing it with earnestness, he

(01:41:12):
added in the same low voice, But mary Anne, the
horse is still yours, though you cannot use it now.
I shall keep it only till you can claim it
when you leave Barton to form your own establishment in
a more lasting home. Queen mab shall receive you. This
was all overheard by Miss Dashwood, and in the whole
of the sentence in his manner of pronouncing it, and

(01:41:34):
in his addressing her sister by her Christian name alone,
she instantly saw an intimacy, so decided a meaning so
direct as marked a perfect agreement between them. From that
moment she doubted not of their being engaged to each other,
and the belief of it created no other surprise than
that she or any of their friends should be left
by tempers so frank to discover it by accident. Margaret

(01:41:58):
related something to her the next day which placed this
matter in a still clearer light. Willoughby had spent the
preceding evening with them, and Margaret By being left some
time in the parlor with only him and mary Anne
had had opportunity for observations, which with a most important
face she communicated to her eldest sister when they were
next by themselves. Oh, Eleanor, she cried, I have such

(01:42:21):
a secret to tell you about mary Anne. I am
sure she will be married to mister Willoughby very soon.
You have said so, replied Eleanor, almost every day since
they first met on High Church Down, and they had
not known each other a week, I believe before you
were certain that mary Anne wore his picture round her neck.
But it turned out to be only the miniature of
our great uncle. But indeed, this is quite another thing.

(01:42:46):
I am sure they will be married very soon, for
he has got a lock of her hair.

Speaker 2 (01:42:51):
Take care, Margaret.

Speaker 1 (01:42:52):
It may be only the hair of some great uncle
of his, but indeed, Eleanor, it is mary Anne's. I
am almost sure it is, for I saw him cut
it off last night after tea, when you and Mamma
went out of the room. They were whispering and talking
together as fast as could be, and he seemed to
be begging something of her. And presently he took up
her scissors and cut off a long lock of her hair,

(01:43:14):
for it was all tumbled down her back, and he
kissed it, and folded it up in a piece of
white paper and put it into his pocket book. For
such particulars stated on such authority, Eleanor could not withhold
her credit, nor was she disposed to it, for the
circumstance was in perfect unison with what she had heard
and seen herself. Margaret's sagacity was not always displayed in

(01:43:36):
a way so satisfactory to her sister. When missus Jennings
attacked her one evening, at the park to give the
name of the young man who was Eleanor's particular favorite,
which had been long a matter of great curiosity to her.
Margaret answered by looking at her sister and saying, I
must not tell, may I Eleanor. This of course made
everybody laugh, and Eleanor tried to laugh too, but the

(01:43:59):
effort was pained. She was convinced that Margaret had fixed
on a person whose name she could not bear with
composure to become a standing joke with missus Jennings. Mary
Anne felt for her most sincerely, but she did more
harm than good to the cause by turning very red
and saying, in an angry manner, to Margaret, remember that
whatever your conjectures may be, you have no right to

(01:44:20):
repeat them. I never had any conjectures about it, replied Margaret.
It was you who told me of it yourself. This
increased the mirth of the company, and Margaret was eagerly
pressed to say something more. Oh pray, miss Margaret, let
us know all about it, said missus Jennings, what is
the gentleman's name? I must not tell, ma'am, but I

(01:44:41):
know very well what it is, and I know where
he is too. Yes, yes, we can guess where he
is at his own house at Norland. To be sure
he is the curate of the parish, I daresay no
that he is not. He is of no profession at all, Margaret,
said mary Anne with great warmth. You know that all

(01:45:01):
this is an invention of your own, and that there
is no such person in existence. Well, then he is
lately dead, mary Anne, for I am sure there was
such a man once, and his name begins with an F.
Most grateful did Eleanor feel to Lady Middleton for observing
at this moment that it rained very hard, though she
believed the interruption to proceed less from any attention to

(01:45:24):
her than from her ladyship's great dislike of all such
inelegant subjects of raillery, as delighted her husband and mother.
The idea, however, started by her, was immediately pursued by
Colonel Brandon, who was on every occasion mindful of the
feelings of others, and much was said on the subject
of rain by both of them. Willoughby opened the Pianoforte

(01:45:44):
and asked mary Anne to sit down to it, and thus,
amidst the various endeavors of different people, to quit the topic.
It fell to the ground, but not so easily did
Eleanor recover from the alarm into which it had thrown her.
A party was formed this evening for going on the
following day to see a very fine place about twelve
miles from Barton, belonging to a brother in law of

(01:46:06):
Colonel Brandon, without whose interest it could not be seen,
as the proprietor, who was then abroad, had left strict
orders on that head. The grounds were declared to be
highly beautiful, and Sir John, who was particularly warm in
their praise, might be allowed to be a tolerable judge,
for he had formed parties to visit them at least
twice every summer for the last ten years. They contained

(01:46:28):
a noble piece of water, a sail on, which was
to form a great part of the morning's amusement. Cold
provisions were to be taken, open carriages only to be employed,
and everything conducted in the usual style of a complete
party of pleasure. To some view of the company, it
appeared rather a bold undertaking, considering the time of year,
and that it had rained every day for the last fortnight,

(01:46:50):
and Missus Dashwood, who had already a cold was persuaded
by Eleanor to stay at home. End of chapter twelve,
Chapter thirteen of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. This
LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Karen Savage,

(01:47:13):
Chapter thirteen. Their intended excursion to Whitwell turned out very
different from what Eleanor had expected. She was prepared to
be wet through, fatigued, and frightened. But the event was
still more unfortunate, for they did not go at all.
By ten o'clock the whole party was assembled at the
park where they were to breakfast. The morning was rather favorable,

(01:47:35):
though it had rained all night, as the clouds were
then dispersing across the sky and the sun frequently appeared.
They were all in high spirits and good humor, eager
to be happy, and determined to submit to the greatest
inconveniences and hardships rather than be otherwise. While they were
at breakfast, the letters were brought in among the rest.
There was one for Colonel Brandon. He took it, looked

(01:47:58):
at the direction changed, and immediately left the room. What
is the matter with Brandon, said Sir John. Nobody could tell.
I hope he has had no bad news, said Lady Middleton.
It must be something extraordinary that could make Colonel Brandon
leave my breakfast table. So suddenly, in about five minutes

(01:48:18):
he returned. No bad news, Colonel, I hope, said Missus
Jennings as soon as he entered the room. None at all, ma'am.
I thank you. Was it from Avignon? I hope it
is not to say that your sister is worse, No, ma'am.
It came from town and is merely a letter of business.
But how came the hand to discompose you so much?
If it was only a letter of business? Come, come

(01:48:39):
this vote, do colonel sir? Let us hear the truth
of it, My dear madam, said Lady Middleton. Recollect what
you are saying. Perhaps it is to tell you that
your cousin Fanny is married, said Missus Jennings, without attending
to her daughter's reproof. No, indeed, it is not well.
Then I know who it is from, colonel, and I
hope she is well. Whom do you mean, ma'am, said he,

(01:49:02):
coloring a little. Oh, you know who I mean. I
am particularly sorry, ma'am, said he, addressing Lady Middleton, that
I should receive this letter to day, for it is
on business which requires my immediate attendance in town. In town,
cried missus Jennings. What can you have to do in
town in this time of year? My own loss is great,

(01:49:23):
he continued, in being obliged to leave so agreeable a party.
But I am the more concerned, as I fear my
presence is necessary to gain your admittance at Whitwell. What
a blow upon them all was this? But if you
write a note to the housekeeper, mister Brandon, said Mary
Anne eagerly, will it not be sufficient? He shook his head.
We must go, said sir John. It shall not be

(01:49:45):
put off when we are so near it. You cannot
go to town till to morrow, Brandon. That is all
I wish it could be so easily settled. But it
is not in my power to delay my journey for
one day. If you would but let us know what
your business is, said Missus T. Jennings, we might see
whether it could be put off or not. You would
not be six hours later, said Willoughby, if you were

(01:50:07):
to defer your journey till our return, I cannot afford
to lose one hour eleanor then heard Willoughby say in
a low voice to Mary Anne, there are some people
who cannot bear a party of pleasure. Brandon is one
of them. He was afraid of catching cold, I daresay,
and invented this trick for getting out of it. I
would lay fifty guineas the letter was of his own writing.

(01:50:29):
I have no doubt of it, replied Mary Anne. There
is no persuading you to change your mind, Brandon, I
know of old, said sir John, when once you are
determined on anything, But however, I hope you will think
better of it. Consider here are the two miscarreys come
over from Newton. The three miss Dashwoods walked up from
the cottage, and mister Willoughby got up two hours before

(01:50:49):
his usual time on purpose to go to Whitwell. Colonel
Brandon again repeated his sorrow at being the cause of
disappointing the party, but at the same time declared it
to be unavoidable.

Speaker 2 (01:51:01):
Well, then, when will.

Speaker 1 (01:51:02):
You come back again? I hope we shall see you
at Barton, added her ladyship, as soon as you can
conveniently leave town, and we must put off the party
to Whitwell till you return. You are very obliging. But
it is so uncertain when I may have it in
my power to return, that I dare not engage for
it at all. Oh he must and shall come back,

(01:51:22):
cried Sir John. If he is not here by the
end of the week, I shall go after him. I
do so, said John, cried missus Jennings. And then perhaps
you may find out what his business is. I do
not want to pry into other men's concerns. I suppose
it is something he is ashamed of. Colonel Brandon's horses
were announced. You do not go to town on horseback,

(01:51:43):
do you, added Sir John. No, only to Hunnerton. I
shall then go post well, as you are resolved to go.
I wish you a good journey, but you had better
change your mind. I assure you it is not in
my power. He then took leave of the whole party.
Is there no chance of my seeing you and your
sisters in townless winter, Miss Dashwood, I am afraid none

(01:52:05):
at all. Then I must bid you farewell for a
longer time than I should wish to do. To Mary Anne,
he merely bowed and said nothing. Come Colonel, said Missus Jennings.
Before you go, do let us know what you are
going about. He wished her a good morning, and, attended
by Sir John, left the room. The complaints and lamentations

(01:52:25):
which politeness had hitherto restrained, now burst forth universally, and
they all agreed again and again. How provoking it was
to be so disappointed. I can guess what his business is, however,
said missus Jennings, exulting me, can you, ma'am? Said almost everybody, Yes,
it is about miss Williams.

Speaker 2 (01:52:43):
I am sure.

Speaker 1 (01:52:44):
And who is Miss Williams? Asked Mary Anne. What do
not you know who Miss Williams is. I am sure
you must have heard of her before. She is a
relation of the colonels, my dear, A very near relation.
We will not say how near, for fear of shocking
the young ladyes. Then, lowering her voice a little, she
said to Eleanor she is his natural daughter. Indeed, oh yes,

(01:53:08):
and as like him as she can stare, I dare
say the Colonel will leave her all his fortune. When
Sir John returned, he joined most heartily in the general
regret on so unfortunate an event, concluding, however, by observing
that as they were all got together, they must do
something by way of being happy, and after some consultation,
it was agreed that although happiness could only be enjoyed

(01:53:30):
at Whitwell, they might procure a tolerable composure of mind
by driving about the country. The carriages were then ordered.
Willoughby's was first, and mari Anne never looked happier than
when she got into it. He drove through the park
very fast, and they were soon out of sight, and
nothing more of them was seen till their return, which
did not happen till after the return of all the rest.

(01:53:52):
They both seemed delighted with their drive, but said only
in general terms that they had kept in the lanes
while the others went on the downs. It was settled
that there should be a dance in the evening, and
that everybody should be extremely merry all day long. Some
more of the Careys came to dinner, and they had
the pleasure of sitting down nearly twenty to table, which

(01:54:13):
Sir John observed with great contentment. Willoughby took his usual
place between the two world Miss Dashwood's Missus Jennings sat
on Eleanor's right hand, and they had not been long
seated before she leant behind her and Willoughby, and said
to Mary Anne loud enough for them both to hear.
I have found you out, in spite of all your tricks.
I know where you spent the morning. Mary Anne colored

(01:54:34):
and replied very hastily where pray? Did not you know?
Said Willoughby, that we had been out in my curricle. Yes, yes,
mister impudence, I know that very well, and I was
determined to find out where you had been to. I
hope you like your house, miss mary Anne. It is
a very large one, I know, and when I come
to see you, I hope you will have new furnished it,

(01:54:55):
for it wanted it very much when I was there
six years ago. Mary Anne turned away in great confusion.
Missus Jennings laughed heartily, and Eleanor found that, in a
resolution to know where they had been, she had actually
made her own woman inquire of mister Willoughby's groom, and
that she had, by that method been informed that they
had gone to Allenham and spent a considerable time there,

(01:55:16):
in walking about the garden and going all over the house.
Eleanor could hardly believe this to be true, as it
seemed very unlikely that Willoughby should propose, or mary Anne
consent to enter the house while Missus Smith was in it,
with whom mary Anne had not the smallest acquaintance. As
soon as they had left the dining room, Eleanor inquired
of her about it, and great was her surprise when

(01:55:37):
she found that every circumstance related by Missus Jennings was
perfectly true. Mary Anne was quite angry with her for
doubting it. Why should you imagine, Eleanor, that we did
not go there, or that we did not see the house?
Is it not what you have often wished to do yourself? Yes,
Mary Anne, but I would not go while Missus Smith
was there, and with no other companion than mister Willoughby.

(01:55:59):
Miss mister Willoughby, however, is the only person who can
have a right to show that house, And as he
went in an open carriage, it was impossible to have
any other companion. I never spent a pleasanter morning in
my life. I am afraid, replied Eleanor, that the pleasantness
of an employment does not always evince its propriety. On
the contrary, nothing can be a stronger proof of it, Eleanor.

(01:56:22):
For if there had been any real impropriety in what
I did. I should have been sensible of it at
the time, for we always know when we are acting wrong,
and with such a conviction I could have had no pleasure.
But my dear Mary Anne, as it has already exposed
you to some very impertinent remarks, do you not now
begin to doubt the discretion of your own conduct? If

(01:56:44):
the impertinent remarks of Missus Jennings are to be the
proof of impropriety and conduct, we are all offending every
moment of our lives. I value not her censure any
more than I should do her commendation. I am not
sensible of having done anything wrong in walking over missus
Smith's grounds or in seeing her hand. They will one
day be mister Willoughby's, and if they were one day

(01:57:04):
to be your own, merry, and you would not be
justified in what you have done. She blushed at this hint,
but it was even visibly gratifying to her, and after
a ten minutes interval of earnest thought, she came to
her sister again and said, with great good humor, perhaps
Eleanor it was rather ill judged in me to go
to Allenham, But mister Willoughby wanted particularly to show me

(01:57:25):
the place, and it is a charming house, I assure you.
There is one remarkably pretty sitting room upstairs, of a
nice comfortable size for constant use, and with modern furniture
it would be delightful. It is a corner room and
has windows on two sides. On one side you look
across the bowling green behind the house to a beautiful
hanging wood, and on the other you have a view

(01:57:47):
of the church and village, and beyond them of those fine,
bold hills that we have so often admired. I did
not see it to advantage, for nothing could be more
forlorn than the furniture. But if it were newly fitted up,
a couple of hundred pounds, Willoughby SAIDs would make it
one of the pleasantest summer rooms in England. Could Eleanor
have listened to her without interruption from the others, she

(01:58:09):
would have described every room in the house with equal delight.
End of chapter thirteen, Chapter fourteen of Sense and Sensibility
by Jane Austen. This LibriVox recording is in the public
domain recording by Karen Savage, Chapter fourteen, The sudden Termination

(01:58:32):
of Colonel Brandon's visit at the park, with his steadiness
in concealing its cause, filled the mind and raised the
wonder of missus Jennings for two or three days. She
was a great wanderer, as every one must be who
takes a very lively interest in all the comings and
goings of all their acquaintance. She wondered with little intermission,
what could be the reason of it? Was sure there

(01:58:54):
must be some bad news, and thought over every kind
of distress that could have befallen him, with a fixed
determination that he should not escape them all. Something very
melancholy must be the matter, I am sure, said she.
I could see it in his face, poor man. I
am afraid his circumstances may be bad. The estate in
Delaford was never reckoned more than two thousand a year,

(01:59:15):
and his brother left everything sadly involved. I do think
he must have been sent for about money matters. For
what else can it be? I wonder whether it is
so I could give anything to know the truth of it.
Perhaps it is about miss Williams, And by the bye,
I dare say it is because he looked so conscious
when I mentioned her. Maybe she is ill in town.

(01:59:37):
Nothing in the world more lightly, for I have a
notion she is always rather sickly. I would lay any
wager it is about Miss Williams. It is not so
very likely he should be distressed in his circumstances now,
for he is a very prudent man, and to be sure,
must have cleared the estate by this time. I wonder
what it can be. Maybe his sister is worse at
Avignon and has sent for him over his setting off

(01:59:59):
in such a hurry seems very like it. While I
wish him out of all his trouble with all my heart,
and a good wife into the bargain. So wondered, So
talked Missus Jennings, her opinion varying with every fresh conjecture,
and all seeming equally probable as they arose. Eleanor, though
she felt really interested in the welfare of Colonel Brandon,

(02:00:19):
could not bestow all the wonder on his going so
suddenly away, which Missus Jennings was desirous of her feeling,
for besides that the circumstance did not, in her opinion,
justify such lasting amazement or variety of speculation, Her wonder
was otherwise disposed of. It was engrossed by the extraordinary
silence of her sister and Willoughby on the subject which

(02:00:40):
they must know to be peculiarly interesting to them all.
As this silence continued every day made it appear more
strange and more incompatible with the disposition of both why
they should not openly acknowledge to her mother and herself
what their constant behavior to each other declared to have
taken place. Eleanor could not imagine. She could easily conceived

(02:01:00):
that marriage might not be immediately in their power, For
though Willoughby was independent, there was no reason to believe
him rich. His estate had been rated by Sir John
at about six or seven hundred a year, but he
lived at an expense to which that income could hardly
be equal, and he had himself often complained of his poverty.
But for this strange kind of secrecy maintained by them

(02:01:21):
relative to their engagement, which in fact concealed nothing at all,
she could not account. And it was so wholly contradictory
to their general opinions and practice that a doubt sometimes
entered her mind of their being really engaged. And this
doubt was enough to prevent her making any inquiry of
mary Anne. Nothing could be more expressive of attachment to

(02:01:42):
them all than Willoughby's behavior to mary Anne. It had
all the distinguishing tenderness which a lover's heart could give.
And to the rest of the family it was the
affectionate attention of a son and a brother. The cottage
seemed to be considered and loved by him as his home.
Many more of his hours were spent there than at allanum,
and if no general engagement collected them at the park,

(02:02:03):
the exercise which called him out in the morning was
almost certain of ending there where. The rest of the
day was spent by himself at the sight of mary
Anne and by his favorite pointer at her feet. One evening,
in particular, about a week after Colonel Brandon left the country,
his heart seemed more than usually open to every feeling
of attachment to the objects around him, and on Missus

(02:02:24):
Dashwood's happening to mention her design of improving the cottage
in the spring, he warmly opposed every alteration of a
place which affection had established as perfect with him. What
he exclaimed, improve this dear cottage, No that I will
never consent to. Not a stone must be added to
its walls not an inch to its size. If my
feelings are regarded, do not be alarmed, said miss Dashwood.

(02:02:47):
Nothing of the kind will be done, for my mother
will never have money enough to attempt it. I am
heartily glad of it, he cried. May she always be
poor if she can employ her riches no better?

Speaker 2 (02:02:58):
Thank you, Billyby.

Speaker 1 (02:02:59):
But if you may be assured that I would not
sacrifice one sentiment of local attachment, of yours or of
any one whom I loved, For all the improvements in
the world depend upon it that whatever unemployed some may
remain when I make up my accounts in the spring,
I would even rather lay it uselessly by than dispose
of it in a manner so painful to you. But
are you really so attached to this place as to

(02:03:21):
see no defect in it? I am, said he to me.
It is faultless. Nay more, I consider it as the
only form of building in which happiness is attainable. And
were I rich enough, I would instantly pull Coomb down
and build it up again in the exact plan of
this cottage, with dark, narrow stairs and a kitchen that smokes,
I suppose, said Eleanor Yes, cried he, in the same

(02:03:43):
eager tone, With all and everything belonging to it, in
no one convenience or inconvenience about it. Should the least
variation be perceptible, then, and then only under such a roof,
I might perhaps be as happy at Coombe as I
have been at Barton. I flatter myself, replied Eleanor, that
even under the disadvantage of better rooms and a broader staircase,

(02:04:05):
you will hereafter find your own house as faultless as
you now do this. There certainly are circumstances, said Willoughby,
which might greatly endear it to me, But this place
will always have one claim on my affection which no
other can possibly share. Missus Dashwood looked with pleasure at
Mary Anne, whose fine eyes were fixed so expressively on Willoughby,

(02:04:26):
as plainly denoted how well she understood him. How often
did I wish, added he, when I was at Allanham
this time twelvemonth that Barton Cottage were inhabited. I never
passed within view of it without admiring its situation and
grieving that no one should live in it. How little
did I then think that the very first news I
should hear from missus Smith when I next came into

(02:04:47):
the country, would be that Barton Cottage was taken, and
I felt an immediate satisfaction and interest in the event,
which nothing but a kind of prescience of what happiness
I should experience from it can account for. Must it
not have been so? Mary Anne? Speaking to her in
a lowered voice, then continuing in his former tone, he said,
And yet this house you would spoil, Missus Dashwood, You

(02:05:09):
would rob it of its simplicity by imaginary improvement. And
this dear parlor in which our acquaintance first began, and
in which so many happy hours have been since spent
by us together, you would degrade to the condition of
a common entrance, and every body would be eager to
pass through the room, which has hitherto contained within itself
more real accommodation and comfort than any other apartment of

(02:05:30):
the handsomest dimensions in the world could possibly afford. Missus
Dashwood again assured him that no alteration of the kind
should be attempted. You are a good woman, he warmly replied.
Your promise makes me easy. Extend it a little farther
and it will make me happy. Tell me that not
only your house will remain the same, but that I
shall ever find you and yours as unchanged as your dwelling,

(02:05:54):
and that you will always consider me with the kindness
which has made everything belonging to you so dear to me.
The promise was readily given, and Willoughby's behavior during the
whole of the evening declared at once his affection and happiness.
Shall we see you to morrow to dinner, said Missus
Dashwood when he was leaving them, I do not ask
you to come in the morning, for we must walk

(02:06:14):
to the park to call on Lady Middleton. He engaged
to be with them by four o'clock end of chapter fourteen,
Chapter fifteen of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. This
LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Karen Savage,

(02:06:35):
Chapter fifteen. Missus Dashwood's visit to Lady Middleton took place
the next day, and two of her daughters went with her,
but Mary Anne excused herself from being of the party
under some trifling pretext of employment, and her mother, who
concluded that a promise had been made by Willoughby the
night before of calling on her while they were absent,

(02:06:55):
was perfectly satisfied with her remaining at home. On their
return from the park, they found Willoughby's curricle and servant
in waiting at the cottage, and Missus Dashwood was convinced
that her conjecture had been just so far it was
all as she had foreseen. But on entering the house
she beheld what no foresight had taught her to expect.

(02:07:16):
They were no sooner in the passage than mary Anne
came hastily out of the parlor, apparently in violent affliction,
with her handkerchief at her eyes, and without noticing them,
ran upstairs. Surprised and alarmed, they proceeded directly into the
room she had just quitted, where they found only Willoughby,
who was leaning against the mantelpiece with his back towards them.
He turned round on their coming in, and his countenance

(02:07:39):
showed that he strongly partook of the emotion which overpowered
mary Anne. Is anything the matter with her? Cried Missus
Dashwood as she entered. Is she ill? I hope not,
he replied, trying to look cheerful, and with a forced smile,
presently added it is I who may rather expect to
be ill, for I am now suffering under a very
heavy disappointment. Yes, for I am unable to keep my

(02:08:03):
engagement with you. Missus Smith has this morning exercised the
privilege of riches upon a poor dependent cousin by sending
me on business to London. I have just received my
despatches and taken my farewell of Ellinam, and by way
of exhilaration, I am now come to take my farewell
of you to London? And are you going this morning?
Almost this moment? This is very unfortunate, but Missus Smith

(02:08:27):
must be obliged and her business will not detain you
from us long, I hope, he colored as he replied,
you are very kind, but I have no idea of
returning to Devonshire immediately. My visits to Missus Smith are
never repeated within the twelvemonth. And is Missus Smith your
only friend? Is Allanum the only house in the neighborhood
to which you would be welcome for shame Willoughby, can

(02:08:49):
you want for an invitation here? His color increased, and
with his eyes fixed on the ground, he only replied,
you are too good. Missus Dashwood looked at Eleanor with surprise.
Eleanor felt equal amazement. For a few moments, every one
was silent. Missus Dashwood first spoke, I have only to add,
my dear Willoughby, that at Barton Cottage you will always

(02:09:11):
be welcome, for I will not press you to return
here immediately, because you only can judge how far that
might be pleasing to Missus Smith. And on this head
I shall be no more disposed to question your judgment
than to doubt your inclination. My engagements at present, replied Willoughby, confusedly,
are of such a nature that I dare not flatter myself.

(02:09:32):
He stopped. Missus Dashwood was too much astonished to speak,
and another pause succeeded. This was broken by Willoughby, who said,
with a faint smile, it is folly to linger in
this manner. I will not torment myself any longer by
remaining among friends whose society it is impossible for me
now to enjoy. He then hastily took leave of them
all and left the room. They saw him step into

(02:09:55):
his carriage, and in a minute it was out of sight.
Missus Dashwood felt too much for speech, and instantly quitted
the parlor to give way in solitude to the concern
and alarm which this sudden departure occasioned. Eleanor's uneasiness was
at least equal to her mother's. She thought of what
had just passed with anxiety and distrust, Willoughby's behavior in

(02:10:17):
taking leave of them, his embarrassment and affectation of cheerfulness,
and above all, his willingness to accept her mother's invitation.
A backwardness so unlike a lover, so unlike himself, greatly
disturbed her. One moment she feared that no serious design
had ever been formed on his side, and the next
that some unfortunate quarrel had taken place between him and

(02:10:37):
her sister. The distress in which mary Anne had quitted
the room was such as a serious quarrel could most
reasonably account for, though when she considered what mary Anne's
love for him was, a quarrel seemed almost impossible. But
whatever might be the particulars of their separation, her sister's
affliction was indubitable, and she thought with the tenderest compassion

(02:10:57):
of that violent sorrow which mary Anne was, in all
probability not merely giving way to us a relief, but
feeling and encouraging as a duty. In about half an
hour her mother returned, and though her eyes were red,
her countenance was not uncheerful. Our dear Willoughby is now
some miles from Barton, Eleanor, said she, as she sat

(02:11:17):
down to work. And with how heavy her heart does
he travel? It is all very strange, so suddenly to
be gone, it seems but the work of a moment.
And last night he was with us, so happy, so cheerful,
so affectionate, And now after only ten minutes notice gone too,
without intending to return. Something more than what he owned

(02:11:39):
to us must have happened. He did not speak, he
did not behave like himself. You must have seen the
difference as well as I. What can it be? Can
they have quarreled? Why else should he have shown such
unwillingness to accept your invitation here? It was not that
inclination that he wanted, Eleanor. I could plainly see that
he had not the power of accepting it. I have

(02:12:01):
thought it all over, I assure you, and I can
perfectly account for everything that at first seems strange to
me as well as to you, can you? Indeed, yes,
I have explained it to myself in the most satisfactory way.
But you, Eleanor, who loved to doubt where you can.
It will not satisfy you, I know, but you shall
not talk me out of my trust in it. I

(02:12:22):
am persuaded that missus Smith suspects his regard for mary Anne,
disapproves of it, perhaps because she has other views for him,
and on that account, is eager to get him away,
And that the business which he sends him off to
transact is invented as an excuse to dismiss him. This
is what I believe to have happened. He is, moreover
aware that she does disapprove the connection. He dares not, therefore,

(02:12:44):
at present confess to her his engagement with mary Anne,
and he feels himself obliged from his dependent situation to
give in to her schemes and absent himself from Devonshire
for a while. You will tell me, I know that
this may or may not have happened, but I will
listen to no cavil unless you can point out any
other method of understanding the affair as satisfactory as this.

(02:13:04):
And now, Eleanor, what have you to say? Nothing? For
you have anticipated my answer, then you would have told
me that it might or might not have happened, oh
Eleanor how incomprehensible are your feelings? You would rather take
evil upon credit than good. You had rather look out
for misery for Maryanne and guilt for poor Willoughby, than
an apology for the latter. You are resolved to think

(02:13:27):
him blameable because he took leave of us with less
affection than his usual behavior is shown, And is no
allowance to be made for inadvertence, or for spirits depressed
by recent disappointment? Are no probabilities to be accepted merely
because they are not certainties? Is nothing due to the
man whom we have all such reason to love, and
no reason in the world to think ill of, to

(02:13:47):
the possibility of motives unanswerable in themselves, though unavoidably secret
for a while. And after all, what is it you
suspect him of? I can hardly tell myself, But suspicion
of something unpla is the inevitable consequence of such an
alteration as we just witnessed in him. There is great truth, however,
and what you have now urged of the allowances which

(02:14:09):
ought to be made for him? And it is my
wish to be candid in my judgment of everybody. Willoughby
may undoubtedly have very sufficient reasons for his conduct, and
I will hope that he has, But it would have
been more like Willoughby to acknowledge them at once. Secrecy
may be advisable, but still I cannot help wondering its
being practiced by him. Do not blame him, however, for

(02:14:31):
departing from his character where the deviation is necessary. But
you really do admit the justice of what I have
said in this defense, I am happy, and he is acquitted,
not entirely. It may be proper to conceal their engagement
if they are engaged from missus Smith, and if that
is the case, it must be highly expedient for Willoughby
to be but little and Devonshire at present. But this

(02:14:54):
is no excuse for their concealing it from us. Concealing
it from us, My dear child, whose Willoughby and Mary
Anne of concealment. This is strange, indeed, when your eyes
have been reproaching them every day for incestuousness. I want
no proof of their affection, said Eleanor, But of their
engagement I do. I am perfectly satisfied of both. Yet

(02:15:16):
not a syllable has been said to you on the
subject by either of them. I have not wanted syllables
where actions have spoken so plainly. Has not his behavior
to Marianne and to all of us, for at least
the last fortnight, declared that he loved and considered her
as his future wife, and that he felt for us
the attachment of nearest relation. Have we not perfectly understood

(02:15:36):
each other? Has not my consent been daily asked by
his looks, his manner, his attentive and affectionate respect, my Eleanor,
is it possible to doubt their engagement? How could such
a thought occur to you? How is it to be
supposed that Willoughby, persuaded as he must be, of your
sister's love, should leave her, and leave her, perhaps for months,

(02:15:57):
without telling her of his affection, that they should part
without a mutual exchange of confidence. I confess, replied Eleanor,
that every circumstance except one is in favor of their engagement.
But that one is the total silence of both on
the subject, and with me it almost outweighs every other.

(02:16:17):
How strange this is, you must think wretchedly indeed of Willoughby, If,
after all that has openly passed between them. You can
doubt the nature of the terms on which they are together.
Has he been acting a part in his behavior to
your sister all this time? Do you suppose him really
indifferent to her? No? I cannot think that he must
and does love her, I am sure, but with a

(02:16:39):
strange kind of tenderness. If he can leave her with
such indifference, such carelessness of the future, as you attribute
to him, you must remember, my dear mother, that I
have never considered this matter as certain. I have had
my doubts, I confess, But they are fainter than they were,
and they may soon be entirely done away. If we
find they correspond, every fear of mine will be removed

(02:17:02):
a mighty concession. Indeed, if you were to see them
at the altar, you would suppose they were going to
be married, ungracious girl. But I require no such proof. Nothing,
in my opinion, has ever passed a justify doubt. No
secrecy has been attempted. All has been uniformly open and unreserved.
You cannot doubt your sister's wishes. It must be Willoughby, therefore,

(02:17:23):
whom you suspect. But why is he not a man
of honor and feeling. Has there been any inconsistency on
his side to create alarm? Can he be deceitful? I
hope not. I believe not cried elinor. I love Willoughby,
sincerely love him, And suspicion of his integrity cannot be
more painful to yourself than to me. It has been involuntary,

(02:17:46):
and I will not encourage it. I was startled, I confess,
by the alteration in his manners this morning. He did
not speak like himself, and did not return your kindness
with any cordiality. But all this may be explained by
such a situation of his affairs, as you have supposed.
He had just parted from my sister, had seen her
leave him in the greatest affliction, and if he felt obliged,

(02:18:08):
from a fear of offending Missus Smith, to resist the
temptation of returning here soon, And yet aware that by
declining your invitation, by saying that he was going away
for some time, he should seem to act an ungenerous
a suspicious part by our family. He might well be
embarrassed and disturbed. In such a case, a plain and
open avowal of his difficulties would have been more to

(02:18:30):
his honor, I think, as well as more consistent with
his general character. But I will not raise objections against
any one's conduct on so a liberal a foundation as
a difference in judgment from myself, or a deviation from
what I may think right and consistent. You speak very properly.
Willoughby certainly does not deserve to be suspected. Though we

(02:18:51):
have not known him long. He is no stranger in
this part of the world, and who has ever spoken
to his disadvantage. Had he been in a situation to
act independently and Mary immediately, it might have been odd
that he should leave us without acknowledging everything to me
at once. But this is not the case. It is
an engagement in some respects not prosperously begun, for their
marriage must be at a very uncertain distance, and even secrecy,

(02:19:15):
as far as it can be observed, may now be
very advisable. They were interrupted by the entrance of Margaret
and Eleanor was then at liberty to think over the
representations of her mother, to acknowledge the probability of many,
and hope for the justice of all. They saw nothing
of Mary Anne till dinner time, when she entered the
room and took her place at the table without saying

(02:19:36):
a word. Her eyes were red and swollen, and it
seemed as if her tears were even then restrained with difficulty.
She avoided the looks of them all, could neither eat
nor speak, and after some time, on her mother's silently
pressing her hand with tender compassion, her small degree of
fortitude was quite overcome. She burst into tears and left

(02:19:56):
the room. This violent oppression of spirit continued the whole evening.
She was without any power because she was without any
desire of command over herself. The slightest mention of anything
relative to Willoughby overpowered her in an instant, and though
her family were most anxiously attentive to her comfort, it
was impossible for them, if they spoke at all, to

(02:20:17):
keep clear of every subject which her feelings connected with him.
End of chapter fifteen. Chapter sixteen of Sense and Sensibility
by Jane Austen. This LibriVox recording is in the public
domain recording by Karen Savage, Chapter sixteen. Mary Anne would

(02:20:40):
have thought herself very inexcusable had she been able to
sleep at all the first night after parting from Willoughby.
She would have been ashamed to look her family in
the face the next morning, had she not risen from
her bed in more need of repose than when she
lay down in it. But the feelings which made such
composure a disgrace left her in no danger of incurring it.
She was awake the whole night, and she wept the

(02:21:02):
greatest part of it. She got up with a headache,
was unable to talk, and unwilling to take any nourishment,
giving pain every moment to her mother and sisters, and
forbidding all attempt at consolation from either. Her sensibility was
potent enough. When breakfast was over, she walked out by
herself and wandered about the village of Allanham, indulging the

(02:21:23):
recollection of past enjoyment and crying over the present reverse
for the chief of the morning. The evening passed off
in the equal indulgence of feeling. She played over every
favorite song that she had been used to play to Willoughby,
every air in which their voices had been oftenest joined,
and sat at the instrument, gazing on every line of
music that he had ridden out for her, till her

(02:21:45):
heart was so heavy that no further sadness could be gained,
and this nourishment of grief was every day applied. She
spent whole hours at the pianoforte, alternately singing and crying,
her voice often totally suspended by her tears. In books, too,
as well as in music, she courted the misery which
a contrast between the past and present was certain of giving.

(02:22:08):
She read nothing but what they had been used to
read together. Such violence of affliction, indeed, could not be
supported forever. It sunk within a few days into a
calmer melancholy. But these employments to which she daily recurred,
her solitary walks and silent meditations, still produced occasional effusions
of sorrow as lively as ever. No letter from Willoughby came,

(02:22:31):
and none seemed expected by Mary Anne. Her mother was surprised,
and Eleanor again became uneasy. But Missus Dashwood could find
explanations whenever she wanted them, which at least satisfied herself. Remember,
Eleanor said she, how very often Sir John fetches our
letters himself from the post and carries them to it.

(02:22:51):
We have already agreed that secrecy may be necessary, and
we must acknowledge that it could not be maintained if
their correspondence were to pass through Sir John's hands. Eleanor
could not deny the truth of this, and she tried
to find in it a motive sufficient for their silence.
But there was one method, so direct, so simple, and
in her opinion, so eligible of knowing the real state

(02:23:13):
of the affair, and of instantly removing all mystery, that
she could not help suggesting it to her mother. Why
do you not ask mary Anne? At once? Said she
whether she is or she is not engaged to Willoughby
from you, her mother, and so kind, so indulgent to mother,
the question could not give offense. It would be the
natural result of your affection for her, she used to

(02:23:35):
be all unreserve, and to you more especially, I would
not think to ask such a question for the world,
supposing it possible that they are not engaged? What distress
would not such an inquiry inflict? At any rate? It
would be most ungenerous. I should never deserve her confidence
again after forcing from her a confession of what is
meant at present to be unacknowledged to any one. I

(02:23:57):
know mary Anne's heart, I know that she dearly loves me,
and that I shall not be the last to whom
the affair is made known, when circumstances make the revealment
of it eligible. I would not attempt to force the
confidence of any one of a child, much less because
a sense of duty would prevent the denial which her
wishes might direct. Eleanor thought this generosity overstrained, considering her

(02:24:19):
sister's youth, and urged the matter father. But in vain,
common sense, common care, common prudence were all sunk in
Missus Dashwood's romantic delicacy. It was several days before Willoughby's
name was mentioned before Mary Anne by any of her family.
Sir John and Missus Jennings, indeed were not so nice.
Their witticisms added pain to many a painful hour. But

(02:24:42):
one evening, Missus Dashwood, accidentally taking up a volume of Shakespeare, exclaimed,
we have never finished Hamlet, Mary Anne, Our dear Willoughby
went away before we could get through it. We will
put it by that when he comes again, but it
may be months, perhaps before that happens. Months, cried Mary Anne,
with strong supp eyes, No nor many weeks. Missus Dashwood

(02:25:03):
was sorry for what she had said, but it gave
Eleanor pleasure as it produced a reply from mary Anne
so expressive of confidence in Willoughby and knowledge of his intentions.
One morning, about a week after his leaving the country,
mary Anne was prevailed on to join her sisters in
their usual walk, instead of wandering away by herself. Hitherto,
she had carefully avoided every companion in her rambles. If

(02:25:27):
her sisters intended to walk on the downs, she directly
stole away towards the lanes. If they talked of the valley,
she was as speedy in climbing the hills and could
never be found when the other set off. But at
length she was secured by the exertions of Eleanor, who
greatly disapproved such continual seclusion. They walked along the road
through the valley, and chiefly in silence, for mary Anne's

(02:25:49):
mind could not be controlled, and Eleanor, satisfied with gaining
one point, would not then attempt more beyond the entrance
of the valley, where the country, though still rich, was
less wild and more open. A long stretch of the
road which they had traveled on first coming to Barton,
lay before them, and on reaching that point they stopped
to look around them and examine a prospect which formed

(02:26:12):
the distance of their view from the cottage, from a
spot which they had never happened to reach in any
of their walks before. Amongst the objects in the scene,
they soon discovered an animated one. It was a man
on horseback, riding towards them. In a few minutes they
could distinguish him to be a gentleman, and in a
moment afterwards, mary Anne rapturously exclaimed, it is he. It

(02:26:33):
is Indeed, I know it is, and was hastening to
meet him, when Eleanor cried out, indeed, mary Anne, I
think you are mistaken. It is not Willoughby. The person
is not tall enough for him, and has not his
air he has he has, cried mary Anne. I am
sure he has his air, his coat, his horse. I
knew how soon he would come. She walked eagerly on

(02:26:53):
as she spoke, and Eleanor to scream mary Anne from particularity,
as she felt almost certain of its not being Willoughby,
quickened her pace and kept up with her. They were
soon within thirty yards of the gentleman. Mary Anne looked again,
her heart sunk within her, and abruptly turning around. She
was hurrying back when the voices of both her sisters

(02:27:13):
were raised to detain her. A third, almost as well
known as Willoughby's, joined them in begging her to stop,
and she turned round with surprise to see and welcome
Edward Ferris. He was the only person in the world
who could, at that moment be forgiven for not being Willoughby,
the only one who could have gained a smile from her.
But she dispersed her tears to smile on him, and

(02:27:36):
in her sister's happiness, forgot for a time her own disappointment.
He dismounted, and, giving his horse to his servant, walked
back with them to Marton, whither he was purposely coming
to visit them. He was welcomed by them all with
great cordiality, but especially by mary Anne, who showed more
warmth of regard in her reception of him than even
eleanor herself. To mary Anne, indeed, the meeting between Seen

(02:28:00):
Edward and her sister was but a continuation of that
unaccountable coldness which she had often observed at Norland in
their mutual behavior. On Edward's side, more particularly, there was
a deficiency of all that a lover ought to look
and say on such an occasion. He was confused, seemed
scarcely sensible of pleasure in seeing them, looked neither rapturous

(02:28:21):
nor gay, said little but what was forced from him
by questions, and distinguished Eleanor by no mark of affection.
Mary Anne saw and listened with increasing surprise. She began
almost to feel a dislike of Edward, and it ended,
as every feeling must end, with her, by carrying back
her thoughts to Willoughby, whose manners formed a contrast sufficiently

(02:28:43):
striking to those of his brother elect. After a short
silence which succeeded the first surprise and inquiries of meeting,
mary Anne asked Edward if he came directly from London. No,
he had been in Devonshire a fortnight. A fortnight, she repeated,
surprised at his being so long in the same county
with Eleanor without seeing her before. He looked rather distressed

(02:29:05):
as he added that he had been staying with some
friends near Plymouth. Have you been lately in Sussex, said Eleanor.
I was at Norland about a month ago. And how
does dear dear Norland look, cried mary Anne dear dear Norland,
said Eleanor. Probably looks much as it always does at
this time of year, the woods and walks thickly covered

(02:29:27):
with dead leaves, Oh, cried mary Anne, with what transporting
sensation have I formerly seen them fall? How have I
delighted as I walk to see them driven in showers
about me by the wind? What feelings have they the season?
The air? Altogether inspired? Now there is no one to
regard them. They are seen only as a nuisance, swept

(02:29:48):
hastily off and driven as much as possible from the sight.
It is not every one, said Eleanor, who has your
passion for dead leaves. No, my feelings are not often shared,
not often under stood, but sometimes they are. As she
said this, she sunk into a reverie for a few moments,
but rousing herself again. Now, Edward said she, calling his

(02:30:10):
attention to the prospect. Here is Barton Valley. Look up
to it and be tranquil. If you can look at
those hills, did you ever see their equals? To the
left is Barton Park. Amongst those woods and plantations. You
may see the end of the house. And there beneath
that farthest hill which rises with such grandeur is our cottage.

(02:30:31):
It is a beautiful country, he replied. But these bottoms
must be dirty in winter. How can you think of
dirt with such objects before you, because, replied he, smiling.
Among the rest of the objects before me, I see
a very dirty lane. How strange, said mary Anne to
herself as she walked on. Have you an agreeable neighborhood?

(02:30:51):
Here are the Middleton's pleasant people? No, not at all,
answered mary Anne. We could not be more unfortunately situated,
mary Anne, Anne cried her sister. How can you say so?
How can you be so unjust? They are a very
respectable family, mister Ferris, and towards us have behaved in
the friendliest manner. Have you forgot, mary Anne, how many

(02:31:11):
pleasant days we have owed to them? No, said Mary
Anne in a low voice, Nor how many painful moments.
Eleanor took no notice of this, and, directing her attention
to their visitor, endeavored to support something like discourse with
him by talking of their present residence, its conveniences, et cetera,
extorting from him occasional questions and remarks. His coldness and

(02:31:34):
reserve mortified her severely. She was vexed and half angry,
but resolving to regulate her behavior to him by the
past rather than the present. She avoided every appearance of
resentment or displeasure, and treated him as she thought he
ought to be treated. From the family connection end of
chapter sixteen, Chapter seventeen of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen.

(02:32:01):
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by
Karen Savage, Chapter seventeen. Missus Dashwood was surprised only for
a moment at seeing him, for his coming to Barton was,
in her opinion, of all things, the most natural. Her
joy and expression of regard long outlived her wonder. He
received the kindest welcome from her, and shyness, coldness, reserve

(02:32:24):
could not stand against such a reception. They had begun
to fail him before he entered the house, and they
were quite overcome by the captivating manners of Missus Dashwood. Indeed,
a man could not very well be in love with
either of her daughters without extending the passion to her.
And Eleanor had the satisfaction of seeing him soon become
more like himself. His affections seemed to reanimate towards them all,

(02:32:47):
and his interest in their welfare again became perceptible. He
was not in spirits. However, he praised their house, admired
its prospect, was attentive and kind, but still he was
not in spirits. The whole fact perceived it, and Missus Dashwood,
attributing it to some want of liberality in his mother,
sat down to table, indignant against all selfish parents. What

(02:33:10):
are Missus Ferris's views for you at present? Edward, said she,
when dinner was over and they had drawn round the fire.
Are you still to be a great orator in spite
of yourself? No? I hope my mother is now convinced
that I have no more talents than inclination for a
public life. But how is your fame to be established?
For famous? You must be to satisfy all your family,

(02:33:30):
and with no inclination for expense, no affection for strangers,
no profession, and no assurance, you may find it a
difficult matter. I shall not attempt it. I have no
wish to be distinguished, and have every reason to hope
I never shall thank heaven. I cannot be forced into
genius and eloquence. You have no ambition. I well know
your wishes are all moderate, as moderate as those of

(02:33:52):
the rest of the world. I believe I wish, as
well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy, But like
everybody else, it must be in my own way. Greatness
will not make me so strange that it would, cried
Mary Anne. What have wealth or grandeur to do with happiness?
Grandeur has but.

Speaker 2 (02:34:09):
Little, said Eleanor.

Speaker 1 (02:34:11):
But wealth has much to do with it, Eleanor. For shame,
said Mary Anne. Money can only give happiness where there
is nothing else to give it. Beyond a competence, it
can afford no real satisfaction as far as mere self
is concerned. Perhaps, said Eleanor, smiling, we may come to
the same point. Your competence and my wealth are very

(02:34:31):
much alike, I dare say, and without them, as the
world goes now, we shall both agree that every kind
of external comfort must be wanting. Your ideas are only
more noble than mine. Come, what is your competence about
eighteen hundred or two thousand a year? Not more than that,
Eleanor laughed. Two thousand a year one is my wealth.

(02:34:53):
I guessed how it would end. And yet two thousand
a year is a very moderate income, said Mary Anne.
A family can not well be maintained on as smaller.
I am sure I am not extravagant in my demands.
A proper establishment of servants, a carriage perhaps two, and
hunters cannot be supported on less. Eleanor smiled again to
hear her sister describing so accurately their future expenses at

(02:35:16):
Coombe Magna hunters, repeated Edward. But why must you have hunters?
Everybody does not hunt, Mary Anne colored as she replied,
but most people do. I wish, said Margaret, striking out
a novel thought that somebody would give us all a
large fortune apiece. Oh that they would, cried Mary Anne,
her eyes sparkling with animation and her cheeks glowing with

(02:35:39):
the delight of such imaginary happiness. We are all unanimous
in that wish, I suppose, said Eleanor. In spite of
the insufficiency of wealth. Oh, dear, cried Margaret, How happy
I should be. I wonder what I should do with it.
Mary Anne looked as if she had no doubt on
that point. I should be puzzled to spend so large
a fortune myself, said missus Dashwood. If my children were

(02:36:00):
all to be rich without my help, you must begin
your improvements on this house, observed Eleanor, and your difficulties
will soon vanish. What magnificent orders would travel from this
family to London, said Edward. In such an event, what
a happy day for booksellers, music sellers and print shops. You,
miss Dashwood, would give a general commission for every new

(02:36:21):
print of merit to be sent you. And as for
mary Anne, I know her greatness of soul. There would
not be music enough in London to content her. And
books Thomson, Cowper Scott, she would buy them all over
and over again. She would buy up every copy, I believe,
to prevent their falling into unworthy hands. And she would
have every book that tells her how to admire an

(02:36:42):
old twisted tree? Should you not, Mary Anne? Forgive me
if I am very saucy, but I was willing to
show you that I had not forgot our old disputes.
I love to be reminded of the past, Edward, whether
it be melancholy or gay, I love to recall it.
And you will never offend me by talking of former times.
You are very right in suppose how my money would
be spent. Some of it, at least my loose cash

(02:37:03):
would certainly be employed in improving my collection of music
and books, and the bulk of your fortune would be
laid out in annuities on the authors or their heirs. No, Edward,
I should have something else to do with it. Perhaps
then you would bestow it as a reward on that
person who wrote the ablest defense of your favorite maxim
that no one can ever be in love more than
once in their life. Your opinion on that point is unchanged.

(02:37:26):
I presume undoubtedly at my time of life, opinions are
tolerably fixed. It is not likely that I should now
see or hear anything to change them. Mary Anne is
as steadfast as ever you see, said Eleanor. She is
not at all altered. She has only grown a little
more grave than she was. Nay, Edward, said mary Anne,

(02:37:46):
you need not reproach me. You are not very gay yourself.
Why should you think so, replied he with a sigh.
But gayety never was part of my character, nor do
I think it a part of mary Anne's, said Eleanor.
I should hardly call her a lively girl. She is
very earnest, very eager in all she does, sometimes talks
a great deal, and always with animation. But she is

(02:38:08):
not often really merry. I believe you are right, he replied,
and yet I have always set her down as a
lively girl. I have frequently detected myself in such kind
of mistakes, said Eleanor, in a total misapprehension of character
in some point or other, fancying people so much more
gay or grave, or ingenious or stupid than they really are.

(02:38:29):
And I can hardly tell why or immot the deception originated.
Sometimes one is guided by what they say of themselves,
and very frequently by what other people say of them,
without giving oneself time to deliberate and judge. But I
thought it was right, Eleanor, said Mary Anne, to be
guided wholly by the opinion of other people. I thought
our judgments were given us merely to be subservient to

(02:38:51):
those of neighbors. This has always been your doctrine, I
am sure, no, Mary Anne, never my doctrine has never
aimed at the subjection of the understanding. All I have
ever attempted to influence has been the behavior you must
not confound my meaning. I am guilty. I confess of
having often wished you to treat our acquaintance in general

(02:39:12):
with greater attention. But when have I advised you to
adopt their sentiments or to conform to their judgment in
serious matters. You have not been able to bring your
sister over to your plan of general civility, said Edward
to Eleanor. Do you gain no ground. Quite the contrary,
replied Eleanor, looking expressively at mary Anne. My judgment, he returned,

(02:39:34):
is all on your side of the question. But I
am afraid my practice is much more on your sisters.
I never wish to offend, but I am so foolishly
shy that I often seem negligent when I am only
kept back by my natural awkwardness. I have frequently thought
that I must have been intended by nature to be
fond of low company. I am so little at my
ease among strangers of gentility. Mary Anne has not shyness

(02:39:58):
to excuse any inattention of hers, said Eleanor. She knows
her own worth too well for false shame, replied Edward.
Shyness is only the effect of a sense of inferiority
in some way or other. If I could persuade myself
that my manners were perfectly easy and graceful, I should
not be shy. But you would still be reserved, said
mary Anne, and that is worse. Edward started, reserved. Am

(02:40:22):
I reserved? Mary Anne? Yes, very I do not understand you,
replied he, coloring reserved. How in what manner? What am
I to tell you? What can you suppose? Eleanor looked,
surprised at his emotion, but trying to laugh off the subject,
She said to him, do not you know my sister
well enough to understand what she means? Do not you

(02:40:43):
know she calls every one reserved who does not talk
as fast and admire what she admires as rapturously as herself.
Edward made no answer. His gravity and thoughtfulness returned on
him in their fullest extent, and he sat for some time,
silent and dull. End of chapter seve seventeen. Chapter eighteen

(02:41:07):
of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. This LibriVox recording
is in the public domain. Recording by Karen Savage. Chapter eighteen.
Eleanor saw with great uneasiness the low spirits of her friend.
His visit afforded her but a very partial satisfaction, while
his own enjoyment in it appeared so imperfect it was

(02:41:27):
evident that he was unhappy. She wished it were equally
evident that he still distinguished her by the same affection
which once she had felt no doubt of inspiring. But
hitherto the continuance of his preference seemed very uncertain, and
the reservedness of his manner towards her contradicted one moment
what a more animated look had intimated the preceding one.

(02:41:47):
He joined her and mary Anne in the breakfast room
the next morning before the others were down, and mary Anne,
who was always eager to promote their happiness as far
as she could, soon left them to themselves. But before
she was half way up the stairs, she heard the
parlor door open, and, turning round, was astonished to see
Edward himself come out. I am going into the village

(02:42:08):
to see my horses, said he, As you are not
yet ready for breakfast, I shall be back again presently,
Edward returned to them with fresh admiration of the surrounding country.
In his walk to the village, he had seen many
parts of the valley to advantage, and the village itself,
in a much higher situation than the cottage, afforded a
general view of the whole which had exceedingly pleased him.

(02:42:30):
This was a subject which ensured Mary Anne's attention, and
she was beginning to describe her own admiration of these
scenes and to question him more minutely on the objects
that had particularly struck him, when Edward interrupted her by saying,
you must not inquire too far, Mary Anne. Remember I
have no knowledge in the picturesque, and I shall offend
you by my ignorance and want of taste if we
come to particulars. I shall call hills steep which ought

(02:42:52):
to be bold, surfaces strange and uncouth, which ought to
be irregular and rugged, and distant objects out of sight
which ought to be only indistinct through the soft medium
of a hazy atmosphere. You must be satisfied with such
admiration as I can honestly give. I call it a
very fine country. The hills are steep, the woods seem
full of fine timber, and the valley looks comfortable in

(02:43:14):
snug with rich meadows and several neat farm houses scattered
here and there. It exactly answers my idea of a
fine country, because it unites beauty with utility. And I
dare say it is a picturesque one too, because you
admire it. I can easily believe it to be full
of rocks and promontories, gray moss and brushwood, But these
are all lost on me. I know nothing of the picturesque.

(02:43:36):
I am afraid it is, but too true, said mary Anne.
But why should you boast of it? I suspect, said Eleanor,
that to avoid one kind of affectation, Edward here falls
into another, because he believes many people pretend to more
admiration of the beauties of nature than they really feel,
and is disgusted with such pretensions. He affects greater indifference

(02:43:57):
and less discrimination in viewing them himself than he possesses.
He is fastidious and will have an affectation of his own.
It is very true, said Marianne, that admiration of landscape
scenery has become a mere jargon. Everybody pretends to feel
and tries to describe with the taste and elegance of
him who first defined what picturesque beauty was. I detest

(02:44:18):
jargon of every kind, and sometimes I have kept my
feelings to myself because I could find no language to
describe them in. But what was worn and hackneyed out
of all sense and meaning. I am convinced, said Edward
that you really feel all the delight in a fine prospect,
which you profess to feel. But in return, your sister
must allow me to feel no more than I profess.

(02:44:40):
I like a fine prospect, but not on picturesque principles.
I do not like crooked, twisted, blasted trees. I admire
them much more if they are tall, straight, and flourishing.
I do not like ruined, tattered cottages. I am not
fond of nettles or thistles or heath blossoms. I have
more pleasure in a snug farmhouse than a watch tower,

(02:45:00):
and a troop of tidy, happy villages pleased me better
than the finest banditti in the world. Mary Anne looked
with amazement at Edward with compassion at her sister. Eleanor
only laughed. The subject was continued no further, and mary
Anne remained thoughtfully silent till a new object suddenly engaged
her attention. She was sitting by Edward, and in taking

(02:45:21):
his tea from Missus Dashwood, his hand passed so directly
before her as to make a ring with a plait
of hair in the center, very conspicuous on one of
his fingers. I never saw you wear a ring before. Edward,
she cried, is that Fanny's hair? I remember her promising
to give you some, but I should have thought her
hair had been darker. Mary Anne spoken considerately what she

(02:45:42):
really felt, but when she saw how much she had
pained Edward, her own vexation at her want of thought
could not be surpassed by his. He colored very deeply, and,
giving a momentary glance at Eleanor, replied, yes, it is
my sister's hair. The setting always cast a different shade
on it, you know. Eleanor had met his eye and
looked conscious otherwise that the hair was her own. She

(02:46:06):
instantaneously felt as well satisfied as mary Anne. The only
difference in their conclusions was that what mary Anne considered
as a free gift from her sister, Eleanor was conscious,
must have been procured by some theft or contrivance unknown
to herself.

Speaker 2 (02:46:20):
She was not in a humor, however, to regard it.

Speaker 1 (02:46:22):
As an affront and affecting to take no notice of
what passed by instantly talking of something else. She internally resolved,
henceforward to catch every opportunity of eyeing the hair, and
of satisfying herself beyond all doubt that it was exactly
the shade of her own. Edward's embarrassment lasted some time,
and it ended in an absence of mind still more settled.

(02:46:44):
He was particularly grave the whole morning. Mary Anne severely
censured herself for what she had said, but her own
forgiveness might have been more speedy had she known how
little offense it had given her sister. Before the middle
of the day they were visited by Sir John and
Missus Jennings, who, having heard of the arrival of a
gentleman at the cottage, came to take a survey of
the guest. With the assistance of his mother in law.

(02:47:07):
Sir John was not long in discovering that the name
of Ferrars began with an F, and this prepared a
future mine of raillery against the devoted Eleanor, which nothing
but the newness of their acquaintance with Edward could have
prevented from being immediately sprung. But as it was, she
only learned from some very significant looks how far their
penetration founded Our Margaret's instructions extended. Sir John never came

(02:47:31):
to the Dashwards without either inviting them to dine at
the park the next day, or to drink tea with
them that evening on the present occasion, for the better
entertainment of their visitor. Towards whose amusement he felt himself
bound to contribute, he wished to engage them for both.
You must drink tea with us to night, said he,
for we shall be quite alone. And to morrow you
must absolutely dine with us, for we shall be a

(02:47:53):
large party. Missus Jennings enforced the necessity. And who knows?
But you may raise a dance, said she, And that
will tempt you, Miss mary Anne. A dance, cried Mary Anne. Impossible?
Who is to dance? Who? Why yourselves? And the Carreys
and Whittkeers to be sure what you thought? Nobody could dance?
Because a certain person that shall be nameless is gone.

(02:48:15):
I wish with all my soul, cried Sir John, that
Willoughby were among us again. This and Mary Anne's blushing
gave new suspicions to Edward. And who is Willoughby? Said
he in a low voice to Miss Dashwood by, whom
he was sitting. She gave him a brief reply. Mary
Anne's countenance was more communicative Edward sure enough to comprehend
not only the meaning of others, but such of mary

(02:48:38):
Anne's expressions as had puzzled him before. And when their
visitors left them, he went immediately round her and said,
in a whisper, I have been guessing. Shall I tell
you my guess? What do you mean? Shall I tell you? Certainly? Well?
Then I guess that mister Willoughby hunts. Mary Anne was
surprised and confused, yet she could not help smiling at

(02:48:59):
the quiet artness of his manner, and after a moment's silence, said, oh, Edward,
how can you But the time will come. I hope.
I am sure you will like him. I do not
doubt it, replied he, rather astonished at her earnestness and warmth,
For had he not imagined it to be a joke
for the good of her acquaintance in general, founded only
on a something or a nothing between mister Willoughby and herself,

(02:49:21):
he would not have ventured to mention it. End of
chapter eighteen, Chapter nineteen of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by
Karen Savage. Chapter nineteen Edward remained a week at the cottage.

(02:49:43):
He was earnestly pressed by Missus Dashwood to stay longer,
but as if he were bent only on self mortification,
he seemed resolved to be gone. When his enjoyment among
his friends was at the height. His spirits during the
last two or three days, though still very unequal, were
greatly improved. He grew more and more partial to the
house and environs. Never spoke of going away without a sigh,

(02:50:05):
declared his time to be wholly disengaged, even doubted to
what place he should go when he left them, But
still go he must. Never had any week passed so
quickly he could hardly believe it to be gone. He
said so repeatedly. Other things he said, too, which marked
the turn of his feelings and gave the lie to
his actions. He had no pleasure at Norland, he detested

(02:50:27):
being in town, but either to Norland or London he
must go. He valued their kindness beyond anything, and his
greatest happiness was in being with them. Yet he must
leave them at the end of a week, in spite
of their wishes and his own, and without any restraint
on his time. Eleanor placed all that was astonishing in
this way of acting to his mother's account, and it

(02:50:49):
was happy for her that he had a mother whose
character was so imperfectly known to her as to be
the general excuse for everything strange on the part of
her son. Disappointed, however, and vexed she was, and sometimes
displeased with his uncertain behavior to herself. She was very
well disposed on the whole to regard his actions with
all the candid allowances and generous qualifications which had been

(02:51:11):
rather more painfully extorted from her for Willoughby's service by
her mother. His want of spirits, of openness, and of
consistency were most usually attributed to his want of independence
and his better knowledge of Missus Ferrars's disposition and designs.
The shortness of his visit, the steadiness of his purpose
in leaving them, originated in some fettered inclination, the same

(02:51:33):
inevitable necessity of temporizing with his mother. The old, well
established grievance of duty against will, parent against child was
the cause of all. She would have been glad to
know when these difficulties were to cease. This opposition was
to yield, when Missus ferrers would be reformed and her
son be at liberty to be happy. But from such
vaign wishes she was forced to turn for comfort to

(02:51:55):
the renewal of her confidence in Edward's affection, to the
remembrance of every mark of the life Guard, in look
or word, which fell from him while at Barton, and
above all to that flattering proof of it which he
constantly wore around his finger. I think, Edward, said missus Statwood,
as they were at breakfast the last morning, you would
be a happier man if you had any profession to

(02:52:16):
engage your time and give an interest to your plans
and actions. Some inconvenience to your friends, indeed might result
from it. You would not be able to give them
so much of your time, but with a smile, you
would be materially benefited. In one particular. At least you
would know where to go when you left them, I
do assure you, He replied, that I have long thought

(02:52:37):
on this point, as you think now. It has been,
and is, and probably will always be a heavy misfortune
to me that I have had no necessary business to
engage me, no profession to give me employment or afford
me anything like independence. But unfortunately my own nicety and
the nicety of my friends have made me what I am,
an idle, helpless being. We never could agree in our

(02:53:00):
choice of a profession. I always preferred the church, as
I still do, but that was not smart enough for
my family. They recommended the army. That was a great
deal too smart for me. The law was allowed to
be genteel enough. Many young men who had chambers in
the temple made a very good appearance in the first circles,
and drove about town in very knowing gigs. But I
had no inclination for the law, even in this less

(02:53:23):
abstruse study of it, which my family approved. As for
the navy, it had fashion on its side, But I
was too old when the subject was first started to
enter it, and at length, as there was no necessity
for my having any profession at all, as I might
be as dashing and expensive without a red coat on
my back, as with one. Idleness was pronounced on the
whole to be most advantageous and honorable, And a young

(02:53:45):
man of eighteen is not, in general so earnestly bent
on being busy as to resist the solicitations of his
friends to do nothing. I was therefore entered at Oxford,
and have been properly idle ever since the consequence of
which I suppose will be said missus Dashwood, since leisure
has not promoted your own happiness, That your sons will
be brought up to as many pursuits, employments, professions, and

(02:54:08):
trades as columellas they will be brought up, said he,
in a serious accent. To be as unlike myself as
is possible, in feeling, in action, in condition, in everything.
Come Come, This is all an effusion of immediate want
of spirits. Edward, you are in a melancholy humor and
fancy that any one unlike yourself must be happy. But

(02:54:30):
remember that the pain of parting from friends will be
felt by everybody at times, whatever be their education or state.
Know your own happiness. You want nothing but patience, Or
give it a more fascinating name, call it hope. Your
mother will secure to you in time that independence you
are so anxious for. It is her duty, and it
will it must ere long become her happiness to prevent

(02:54:54):
your whole youth from being wasted in discontent. How much
may not a few months do I think, replied Edward,
that I may defy many months to produce any good
to me this desponding turn of mind, though it could
not be communicated to missus Dashwood, gave additional pain to
them all in the parting which shortly took place, and

(02:55:15):
left an uncomfortable impression on Eleanor's feelings, especially which required
some trouble and time to subdue. But as it was
her determination to subdue it, and to prevent herself from
appearing to suffer more than what all her family suffered
on his going away, she did not adopt the methods
so judiciously employed by Mary Anne on a similar occasion
to augment and fix her sorrow by seeking silence, solitude,

(02:55:37):
and idleness. Their means were as different as their objects,
and equally suited to the advancement of each. Eleanor sat
down to her drawing table as soon as he was
out of the house, busily employed herself the whole day,
neither sought nor avoided the mention of his name, appeared
to interest herself almost as much as ever in the
general concerns of the family, and if by this conduct

(02:55:59):
she did not lessen her own grief, it was at
least prevented from unnecessary increase, and her mother and sisters
were spared much solicitude on her account. Such behavior as
this so exactly the reverse of her own, appeared no
more meritorious to Mary Anne than her own had seemed
faulty to her. The business of self command she settled

(02:56:20):
very easily with strong affections. It was impossible with calm ones.
It could have no merit that her sister's affections were calm.
She dared not deny, though she blushed to acknowledge it,
and of the strength of her own she gave a
very striking proof by still loving and respecting that sister
in spite of this mortifying conviction. Without shutting herself up

(02:56:42):
from her family or leaving the house in determined solitude
to avoid them, or lying awake the whole night to
indulge meditation, Eleanor found every day afforded her leisure enough
to think of Edward and of Edward's behavior in every
possible variety which the different state of her spirits at
different times could produce. Tenderness, pity, approbation, censure, and doubt.

(02:57:04):
There were moments in abundance when, if not by the
absence of her mother and sisters, at least by the
nature of their employments. Conversation was forbidden among them, and
every effect of solitude was produced. Her mind was inevitably
at liberty. Her thoughts could not be chained elsewhere, and
the past and the future on a subject so interesting,
must be before her, must force her attention and engross

(02:57:27):
her memory, her reflection, and her fancy from a reverie
of this kind. As she sat at her drawing table,
she was roused one morning, soon after Edward's leaving them,
by the arrival of company. She happened to be quite alone.
The closing of the little gate at the entrance of
the green court in front of the house drew her
eyes to the window, and she saw a large party

(02:57:48):
walking up to the door. Amongst them were Sir John
and Lady Middleton, and Missus Jennings, but there were two others,
a gentleman and lady who were quite unknown to her.
She was sitting near the window, and as soon as
he John perceived her, he left the rest of the
party to the ceremony of knocking at the door and
stepping across the turf, obliged her to open the casement

(02:58:08):
to speak to him, Though the space was so short
between the door and the window, as to make it
hardly possible to speak at one without being heard at
the other. Well said he. We have brought you some strangers.
How do you like them? Hush, they will hear you.
Never mind if they do, it is only the Palmers.
Charlotte is very pretty. I can tell you may see
her if you look this way. As Elinor was certain

(02:58:31):
of seeing her in a couple of minutes. Without taking
that liberty, she begged to be excused, where is Mary Anne?
Has she run away? Because we are come. I see
her instrument is open, she is walking. I believe they
were now joined by Missus Jennings, who had not patience
enough to wait till the door was opened before she
told her story.

Speaker 2 (02:58:48):
She came hallooing to the window.

Speaker 1 (02:58:50):
How do you do, my dear? How does missus Dashwood do?
And where are your sisters? What? All alone? You will
be glad of a little company to sit with you.
I have brought my other side and daughter to see you.
Only think of their coming. So suddenly I thought I
heard a carriage last night while we were drinking our tea.
But it never entered my head that it could be them.
I thought of nothing but whether it might not be

(02:59:11):
Colonel Brandon come back again, So I said to Sir John,
I do think I hear a carriage. Perhaps it is
Colonel Brandon come back again. Eleanor was obliged to turn
from her in the middle of her story to receive
the rest of the party. Lady Middleton introduced the two strangers.
Missus Dashwood and Margaret came downstairs at the same time,
and they all sat down to look at one another,

(02:59:32):
while Missus Jennings continued her story as she walked through
the passage into the parlor attended by Sir John. Missus
Palmer was several years younger than Lady Middleton and totally
unlike her in every respect. She was short and plump,
had a very pretty face and the finest expression of
good humor in it that could possibly be. Her manners
were by no means so elegant as her sisters, but

(02:59:54):
they were much more prepossessing. She came in with a smile,
smiled all the time of her visit, except when she
laughed and smiled when she went away. Her husband was
a grave looking young man of five or six and twenty,
with an air of more fashion and sense than his wife,
but of less willingness to please or be pleased. He
entered the room with a look of self consequence, slightly

(03:00:15):
bowed to the ladies without speaking a word, and, after
briefly surveying them and their apartments, took up a newspaper
from the table and continued to read it as long
as he stayed. Missus Palmer, on the contrary, who was
strongly endowed by nature with a turn for being uniformly
civil and happy, was hardly seated before her admiration of
the parlor and everything in it burst forth. Well, what

(03:00:37):
a delightful room this is. I never saw anything so charming.
Only think, mamma, how it is improved since I was
here last. I always thought it such a sweet place, ma'am,
turning to missus Dashwood. But you have made it so charming.
Only look, sister, how delightful everything is. How I should
like such a house for myself, should not you, mister Palmer.

(03:00:57):
Mister Palmer made her no answer and did not even
raise his eyes from the newspaper. Mister Palmer does not
hear me, said she, laughing. He never does. Sometimes it
is so ridiculous. This was quite a new idea to
missus Dashwood. She had never been used to find wit
in the inattention of any one, and could not help
looking with surprise at them both. Missus Jennings, in the meantime,

(03:01:19):
talked on as loud as she could, and continued her
account of their surprise the evening before on seeing their friends,
without ceasing till everything was told. Missus Palmer laughed heartily
at the recollection of their astonishment, and everybody agreed two
or three times over that it had been quite an
agreeable surprise. You may believe how glad we all were
to see them, added Missus Jennings, leaning forward towards Eleanor

(03:01:41):
and speaking in a low voice, as if she meant
to be heard by no one else, though they were
seated on different sides of the room. But however, I
can't help wishing they had not traveled quite so fast,
nor made such a long journey of it, for they
came all round by London upon account of some business.
For you know, nodding significantly pointing to her daughter, it
was wrong in her situation. I wanted her to stay

(03:02:04):
at home and rest this morning, but she would come
with us. She longed so much to see you all
Missus Palmer laughed and said it would not do her
any harm. She expects to be confined in February, continued
Missus Jennings. Lady Middleton could no longer endure such a conversation,
and therefore exerted herself to ask mister Palmer if there
was any news in the paper. No, none at all,

(03:02:26):
he replied, and read on here comes Mary Anne, cried
sir John. Now Palmer, you shall see a monstrous pretty girl.
He immediately went into the passage, opened the front door,
and ushered her in himself. Missus Jennings asked as soon
as she appeared if she had not been to Allenham,
and Missus Palmer laughed so heartily at the question as

(03:02:47):
to show she understood it. Mister Palmer looked up on
her entering the room, stared at her some minutes, and
then returned to his newspaper. Missus Palmer's eye was now
caught by the drawings which hung round the room. She
got up to examine them. Oh, dear, how beautiful these are? Well,
how delightful? Do but look, mamma, how sweet I declare
they are quite charming. I could look at them for ever,

(03:03:10):
And then sitting down again, She very soon forgot that
there were any such things in the room. When Lady
Middleton rose to go away, mister Palmer Rose also laid
down the newspaper, stretched himself and looked at them all round.
My love, have you been asleep? Said his wife, laughing.
He made her no answer, and only observed, after again
examining the room, that it was very low pitched, and

(03:03:32):
that the ceiling was crooked. He then made his bow
and departed with the rest. Sir John had been very
urgent with them all to spend the next day at
the park. Missus Dashwood, who did not choose to dine
with them oftener than they dined at the cottage, absolutely
refused on her own account. Her daughters might do as
they pleased, but they had no curiosity to see how
mister and Missus Palmer ate their dinner, and no expectation

(03:03:56):
of pleasure from them in any other way. They attempted, therefore,
likewise to excuse themselves. The weather was uncertain and not
likely to be good, but Sir John would not be satisfied.
The carriage should be sent for them, and they must come.
Lady Middleton too, though she did not press their mother
pressed them. Missus Jennings and Missus Palmer joined their entreaties.

(03:04:16):
All seemed equally anxious to avoid a family party, and
the young ladies were obliged to yield. Why should they
ask us, said Mary Anne, as soon as they were gone.
The rent of this cottage is said to be low,
but we have it on very hard terms. If we
are to dine at the park whenever any one is staying,
either with them or with us, they mean no less
to be civil and kind to us, now, said Eleanor

(03:04:39):
by these frequent invitations than by those which we received
from them a few weeks ago, the alteration is not
in them. If their parties are grown tedious and dull,
we must look for the change elsewhere. End of chapter nineteen,
Chapter twenty of Cents Sensibility by Jane Austen. This LibriVox

(03:05:02):
recording is in the public domain recording by Karen Savage,
Chapter twenty. As the miss Dashwoods entered the drawing room
of the park the next day, at one door, Missus
Palmer came running in at the other, looking as good
humored and merry as before. She took them all most
affectionately by the hand and expressed great delight in seeing
them again. I am so glad to see you, said she,

(03:05:25):
seating herself between Eleanor and Mary Anne. For it is
so bad a day. I was afraid you might not come,
which would be a shocking thing. As we go away
again to morrow. We must go for the Westons come
to us next week. You know. It was quite a
sudden thing our coming at all, and I knew nothing
of it till the carriage was coming to the door.
And then mister Palmer asked me if I would go
with him to Barton. He is so droll, he never

(03:05:45):
tells me anything. I am so sorry we cannot stay longer. However,
we shall meet again in town very soon. I hope
they were obliged to put an end to such an expectation.
Not go to town, cried Missus Palmer with a laugh. I
shall be quite disappointed if you do not. I could
get the nicest house in the world for you next
door two hours in Hannover Square. You must come, indeed,

(03:06:06):
I am sure I shall be very happy to chaperon
you at any time till I am confined. If Missus
Dashwood should not like to go into public, they thanked her,
but were obliged to resist all her entreaties. Oh, my love,
cried missus Palmer to her husband, who just then entered
the room. You must help me to persuade the miss
Dashwoods to go to town this winter. Her love made
no answer, and, after slightly bowing to the ladies, began

(03:06:29):
complaining of the weather. How horrid all this is, said he.
Such weather makes everything and everybody disgusting. Dulness is as
much produced within doors as without by rain. It makes
one detest all one's acquaintance. What the devil does Sir
John mean by not having a billiard room in his house?
How few people know what comfort is? Sir John is
as stupid as the weather. The rest of the company

(03:06:51):
soon dropped in. I am afraid, Miss Marianne, said, Sir John,
you have not been able to take your usual walk
to allenum to day. Mary Anne looked very grave and
said nothing. Oh, don't be so sly before us, said
missus Palmer, for we know all about it, I assure you,
and I admire your taste very much, for I think
he is extremely handsome. We do not live a great

(03:07:12):
way from him in the country. You know, not above
ten miles, I dare say much nearer thirty, said our husband. Ah, well,
there is not much difference. I never was at his house,
but they say it is a sweet, pretty place, as
vile as spot as I ever saw in my life,
said mister Palmer. Mary Anne remained perfectly silent, though her
countenance betrayed her interest in what was said. Is it

(03:07:34):
very ugly, continued missus Palmer. Then it must be some
other place that is so pretty, I suppose. When they
were seated in the dining room, Sir John observed with
regret that they were only eight altogether. My dear, said
he to his lady. It is very provoking that we
should be so few. Why did not you ask the
Gilberts to come to us to day? Did not I
tell you, Sir John, when you spoke to me about

(03:07:54):
it before, that it could not be done. They dined
with us last, you and I, Sir John said, Missus
Jennings should not stand upon such ceremony. Then you would
be very ill bred, cried mister Palmer. My love, you
contradict everybody, said his wife, with her usual laugh. Do
you know that you are quite rude? I did not know.
I contradicted anybody in calling your mother ill bred. Aye,

(03:08:17):
you may abuse me as you please, said the good
natured old lady. You have taken Charlotte off my hands
and cannot give her back again. So there I have
the whip hand of you. Charlotte laughed heartily to think
that her husband could not get rid of her, and
exultingly said she did not care how cross he was
to her, as they must live together. It was impossible
for any one to be more thoroughly good natured or

(03:08:38):
more determined to be happy than missus Palmer. The studied indifference, insolence,
and discontent of her husband gave her no pain, and
when he scolded or abused her, she was highly diverted.
Mister Palmer is so droll, said she in a whisper
to Eleanor. He is always out of humor. Eleanor was
not inclined, after a little observation, to give him at

(03:09:00):
it for being so genuinely and unaffectedly ill natured or
ill bred, as he wished to appear. His temper might
perhaps be a little soured by finding, like many others
of his sex, that, through some unaccountable bias in favor
of beauty, he was the husband of a very silly woman.
But she knew that this kind of blunder was too
common for any sensible man to be lastingly hurt by it.

(03:09:21):
It was rather a wish of distinction, she believed, which
produced his contemptuous treatment of everybody, and his general abuse
of everything before him. It was the desire of appearing
superior to other people. The motive was too common to
be wondered at. But the means, however they might succeed
by establishing his superiority in ill breeding, were not likely
to attach any one to him except his wife. Oh,

(03:09:44):
my dear miss Dashwood, said missus Palmer soon afterwards. I
have got such a favor to ask of you and
your sister. Will you come and spend some time at
Cleveland this Christmas? Now? Pray do and come while the
Westerns are with us. You cannot think how happy I
shall be. It will be quite delightful, my love, applying
to her husband, don't you long to have the miss
Dashwoods come to Cleveland? Certainly? He replied with a sneer.

(03:10:07):
I came into Devonshire with no other view there now,
said his lady. You see, mister Palmer expects you so
you cannot refuse to come. They both eagerly and resolutely
declined her invitation. But indeed you must and shall come.
I am sure you will like it. Of all things,
the Westons will be with us, and it will be
quite delightful. You cannot think what a sweet place Cleveland is.

(03:10:30):
And we are so gay now, for mister Palmer is
always going about the country canvassing against the election, and
so many people come to dine with us that I
never saw before. It is quite charming. But poor fellow,
it is very fatiguing for him, for he is forced
to make everybody like him. Eleanor could hardly keep her
countenance as she assented to the hardship of such an obligation.

(03:10:51):
How charming it will be, said Charlotte, when he is
in parliament, won't it? How I shall laugh. It will
be so ridiculous to see all his letters directed to
him with an MP. But you know, he says he
will never frank for me. He declares, he won't, don't you,
mister Palmer. Mister Palmer took no notice of her. He
cannot bear writing, you know, she continued. He says it

(03:11:12):
is quite shocking. No, said he, I never said anything
so irrational. Don't palm all your abuses of languages upon me. There.
Now you see how droll he is. This is always
the way with him. Sometimes you won't speak to me
for half a day together, and then he comes out
with something so droll, all about anything in the world.
She surprised Eleanor very much as they returned into the

(03:11:33):
drawing room by asking her whether she did not like
mister Palmer excessively certainly, said Eleanor. He seems very agreeable. Well,
I am so glad you do. I thought you would.
He is so pleasant, and mister Palmer is excessively pleased
with you and your sisters, I can tell you. And
you can't think how disappointed he will be if you
don't come to Cleveland. I can't imagine why you should

(03:11:53):
object to it. Eleanor was again obliged to decline her invitation,
and by changing the subject put us stopped to her entreaties.
She thought it probable that, as they lived in the
same county, Missus Palmer might be able to give some
more particular account of Willoughby's general character than could be
gathered from the Middleton's partial acquaintance with him, and she
was eager to gain from any one such a confirmation

(03:12:15):
of his merits as might remove the possibility of fear
from Mary Anne. She began by inquiring if they saw
much of mister Willoughby at Cleveland, and whether they were
intimately acquainted with him. Oh, dear, yes, I know him
extremely well, replied missus Palmer. Not that I ever spoke
to him, indeed, but I have seen him for ever
in town somehow or other. I never happened to be

(03:12:36):
staying at Barton while he was at Allenham. Mamma saw
him here once before, but I was with my uncle
at Weymouth. However, I dare say we should have seen
a great deal of him at Somersetshire if it had
not happened very unluckily that we should never have been
in the country together. He is very little and cool,
I believe. But if he were ever so much there,
I do not think mister Palmer would visit him, for
he is in the opposition, you know, And besides it

(03:12:58):
is such a way off. I know why you inquire
about him very well. Your sister is to marry him.
I am monstrous glad of it, for then I shall
have her for a neighbor. You know upon my word,
replied Eleanor you know much more of the matter than
I do. If you have any reason to expect such
a match, don't pretend to deny it, because you know
it is what everybody talks of. I assure you I

(03:13:20):
heard of it in my way through town, my dear
missus Palmer, upon my honor, I did. I met Colonel
Brandon Monday morning in Bond Street, just before we left town,
and he told me of it directly. You surprise me
very much, Colonel Brandon, tell you of it? Surely you
must be mistaken. To give such intelligence to a person
who could not be interested in it, even if it

(03:13:40):
were true. Is not what I should expect Colonel Brandon
to do. But I do assure you it was so
for all that, and I will tell you how it happened.
When we met him, he turned back and walked with us,
and so we began talking of my brother and sister,
and one thing and another, and I said to him, so, Colonel,
there is a new family come to Bartoncottage. I hear,

(03:14:00):
and Mamma sends me word that they are very pretty,
and that one of them is going to be married
to mister Willoughby of Combe Magna. Is it true? Pray?
For of course you must know, as you have been
in Devonshire so lately. And what did the colonel say? Oh?
He did not say very much, but he looked as
if he knew it to be true. So from that
moment I set it down as certain it will be
quite delightful. I declare, when is it to take place?

(03:14:23):
Mister Brandon was very well, I hope, Oh, yes, quite well,
and so full of your praises. He did nothing but
say fine things of you. I am flattered by his commendation.
He seems an excellent man, and I think him uncommonly pleasing,
So do I. He is such a charming man that
it is quite a pity he should be so grave
and so dull. Mamma says he was in love with

(03:14:44):
your sister too. I assure you it was a great
compliment if he was, for he hardly ever falls in
love with anybody. Is mister Willoughby much known in your
part of Somersetshire? Said Eleanor, Oh, yes, extremely well, that is.
I do not believe many people are acquainted with him,
because Coombe Magna is so far off, but they all
think him extremely agreeable. I assure you nobody is more

(03:15:06):
liked than mister Willoughby wherever he goes. And so you
may tell your sister she is a monstrous lucky girl
to get him, upon my honor, not but that he
is much more lucky in getting her, because she is
so very handsome and agreeable that nothing can be good
enough for her. However, I don't think her hardly at
all handsomer than you, I assure you, for I think
you both excessively pretty, and so does mister Palmer too.

(03:15:27):
I am sure, though we could not get him to
own it last night, missus Palmer's information respecting Willoughby was
not very material, but any testimony in his favor, however small,
was pleasing to her. I am so glad we are
got acquainted at last, continued Charlotte. And now I hope
we shall always be great friends. You can't think how
much I long to see you. It is so delightful

(03:15:48):
that you should live at the cottage. Nothing can be
like it, to be sure, and I am so glad
your sister is going to be well married. I hope
you will be a great deal at Coombe magna, it
is a sweet place. By all accounts, you have been
long acquainted with Colonel Brandon, have you not, yes, a
great while ever since my sister married. He was a
particular friend of Sir John's, I believe, she added, in

(03:16:09):
a low voice, he would have been very glad to
have had me if he could. Sir John and Lady
Middleton wished it very much, but Mamma did not think
the match good enough for me. Otherwise Sir John would
have mentioned it to the Colonel and we should have
been married immediately. Did not Colonel Brandon know of Sir
John's proposal to your mother before it was made? Had
he never owned his affection to yourself? Oh? No, But

(03:16:31):
if Mamma had not objected to it, I dare say
he would have liked it. Of all things, he had
not seen me then above twice, for it was before
I left school. However, I am much happier as I am.
Mister Palmer is the kind of man I like. End
of chapter twenty Chapter twenty one of Sense and Sensibility

(03:16:54):
by Jane Austen. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
Recording by Karen Savage. Chapter twenty one The Palmers returned
to Cleveland the next day, and the two families at
Barton were again left to entertain each other. But this
did not last long. Eleanor had hardly got their last
visitors out of her head, had hardly done wondering at

(03:17:17):
Charlotte's being so happy without a cause, at mister Palmer's
acting so simply with good abilities, and at the strange
unsuitableness which often existed between husband and wife before Sir
John's and Missus Jennings's active zeal in the cause of
society procured her some other new acquaintance to see and observe.
In a morning's excursion to Exeter, they had met with

(03:17:39):
two young ladies whom Missus Jennings had the satisfaction of
discovering to be her relations, and this was enough for
Sir John to invite them directly to the park as
soon as their present engagements at Exeter were over. Their
engagements at Exeter instantly gave way before such an invitation,
and Lady Middleton was thrown into no little alarm on
the return of Sir John by hearing that she was

(03:18:01):
very soon to receive a visit from two girls whom
she had never seen in her life, and of whose elegance,
whose tolerable gentility, even she could have no proof, for
the assurances of her husband and mother on that subject
went for nothing at all. Their being her relations, too,
made it so much the worse, and Missus jennings attempts
at consolation were therefore unfortunately founded when she advised her

(03:18:25):
daughter not to care about their being so fashionable, because
they were all cousins and must put up with one another.
As it was impossible, however, now to prevent their coming,
Lady Middleton resigned herself to the idea of it, with
all the philosophy of a well bred woman, contenting herself
with merely giving her husband a gentle reprimand on the
subject five or six times every day the young ladies arrived.

(03:18:48):
Their appearance was by no means ungenteel or unfashionable. Their
dress was very smart, their manners very civil. They were
delighted with the house and in raptures with the furniture,
and they happened to be so dotingly fond of children
that Lady Middleton's good opinion was engaged in their favor.
Before they had been an hour at the park, she
declared them to be very agreeable girls, indeed, which for

(03:19:11):
her ladyship was enthusiastic admiration. Sir John's confidence in his
own judgment rose with this animated praise, and he set
off directly for the cottage to tell the Miss Dashwoods
of the Miss Steele's arrival and to assure them of
their being the sweetest girls in the world. From such
commendation as this, however, there was not much to be learned.

(03:19:31):
Eleanor Well knew that the sweetest girls in the world
were to be met with in every part of England
under every possible variation of form, face, temper and understanding.
Sir John wanted the whole family to walk to the
part directly and look at his guests. Benevolent, philanthropic man,
it was painful to him even to keep a third
cousin to himself. Do come now, said he pray, Come,

(03:19:54):
you must come. I declare you shall come. You can't
think how you will like them. Lucy is monstrous, pretty,
and so good humored and agreeable. The children are all
hanging about her already as if she was an old acquaintance,
and they both longed to see you, of all things,
for they have heard at Exeter that you are the
most beautiful creatures in the world, And I have told
them it is all very true, and a great deal more.

(03:20:17):
You will be delighted with them. I am sure. They
have brought the whole coachful of playthings for the children.
How can you be so cross as not to come?
Why they are your cousins, you know, after a fashion,
you are my cousins, and they are my wife's, so
you must be related. But Sir John could not prevail.
He could only obtain a promise of their calling at
the park within a day or two, and then left

(03:20:39):
them in amazement at their indifference to walk home and
boast anew of their attractions to the Miss Steeles, as
he had been already boasting of the Miss Steeles to them.
When their promised visit to the park and consequent introduction
to these young ladies took place, they found in the
appearance of the eldest, who was nearly thirty, with a
very plain and not a sensible face, nothing to admire.

(03:21:01):
But in the other, who was not more than two
or three and twenty, they acknowledged considerable beauty. Her features
were pretty, and she had a sharp, quick eye, and
a smartness of air, which, though it did not give
actual elegance or grace, gave distinction to her person. Their
manners were particularly civil, and Elinor soon allowed them credit

(03:21:22):
for some kind of sense, when she saw with what
constant and judicious attention they were making themselves agreeable to
Lady Middleton. With her children, they were in continual raptures,
extolling their beauty, courting their notice, and humoring their whims,
and such of their time as could be spared from
the importunate demands which this politeness made on it was

(03:21:42):
spent in admiration of whatever her ladyship was doing, if
she happened to be doing anything, or in taking patterns
of some elegant new dress in which her appearance the
day before had thrown them into unceasing delight. Fortunately for
those who pay their court through such foibles. A fond mother,
though in pursuit of praise for her children the most
rapacious of human beings, is likewise the most credulous. Her

(03:22:06):
demands are exorbitant, but she will swallow anything, And the
excessive affection and endurance of the Miss Steeles towards her
offspring were viewed therefore by Lady Middleton, without the smallest
surprise or distrust. She saw with maternal complacency all the
impertinent encroachments and mischievous tricks to which her cousins submitted.
She saw their sashes untied, their hair pulled about their ears,

(03:22:29):
their work bags searched, and their knives and scissors stolen away,
and felt no doubt of its being a reciprocal enjoyment.
It suggested no other surprise than that Eleanor and Mary
Anne should sit so composedly by without claiming a share
in what was passing. John is in such spirits to day,
said she, on his taking Miss Steele's pocket handkerchief and

(03:22:50):
throwing it out of window. He is full of monkey tricks.
And soon afterwards, on the second boys violently pinching one
of the same lady's fingers, she fondly observed how playful
William is. And here is my sweet little Anna Maria,
she added, tenderly, caressing a little girl of three years old,
who had not made a noise for the last two minutes.

(03:23:11):
And she is always so gentle and quiet. Never was
there such a quiet little thing. But unfortunately, in bestowing
these embraces a pin in her ladyship's head dress, slightly
scratched the child's neck. Produced from this pattern of gentleness
such violent screams as could hardly be outdone by any
creature professedly noisy. The mother's consternation was excessive, but it

(03:23:34):
could not surpass the alarm of the miss Steels, and
everything was done by all three in so critical an
emergency which affection could suggest as likely to assuage the
agonies of the little sufferer. She was seated in her
mother's lap, covered with kisses, her wound bathed with lavender
water by one of the miss Steeles, who was on
her knees to attend her, and her mouth stuffed with

(03:23:55):
sugar plums by the other. With such a reward for
her tears, the child was too wise to cease crying.
She still screamed and sobbed lustily kicked her two brothers
for offering to touch her, and all their united soothings
were ineffectual. Till Lady Middleton, luckily remembering that in a
scene of similar distress last week, some apricot marmalade had

(03:24:16):
been successfully applied for a bruised temple. The same remedy
was eagerly proposed for this unfortunate scratch, and a slight
intermission of screams in the young lady on hearing it,
gave them reason to hope that it would not be rejected.
She was carried out of the room, therefore in her
mother's arms, in quest of this medicine. And as the
two boys chose to follow, though earnestly entreated by their

(03:24:38):
mother to stay behind, the four young ladies were left
in a quietness which the room had not known for
many hours. Poor little creatures, said Miss Steele, as soon
as they were gone. It might have been a very
sad accident. Yet I hardly know how, cried Mary Anne,
unless it had been under totally different circumstances. But this
is the usual way of heightening alarm where there is

(03:25:00):
nothing to be alarmed at in reality. What a sweet
woman Lady Middleton is, said Lucy Steele. Mary Anne was silent.
It was impossible for her to say what she did
not feel. However trivial the occasion, and upon eleanor therefore
the whole task of telling lies when politeness required it
always fell. She did her best when thus called on,

(03:25:22):
by speaking of Lady Middleton with more warmth than she felt,
though with far less than Miss Lucy and Sir John too,
cried the elder sister. What a charming man he is
here too, Miss Dashwood's commendation, being only simple and just
came in without any a claw, she merely observed that
he was perfectly good humored and friendly. And what a

(03:25:45):
charming little family they have. I never saw such fine
children in my life, I declare, I quite dote upon
them already, and indeed I am always distractedly fond of children.
I should guess, so said Eleanor with a smile. From
what I have witnessed this morning. I have a notion,
said Lucy, you think the little Middleton's rather too much indulged.

(03:26:06):
Perhaps they may be the outside of enough, but it
is so natural in Lady Middleton. And for my part,
I love to see children full of life and spirits.
I cannot bear them if they are tame and quiet,
I confess, replied Eleanor that while I am at Barton Park,
I never think of tame and quiet children with any abhorrence.

(03:26:26):
A short pause succeeded this speech, which was first broken
by Miss Steele, who seemed very much disposed for conversation,
and who now said, rather abruptly, and how do you
like Devonshire, Missdatwood, I suppose you were very sorry to
leave Sussex. In some surprise at the familiarity of this question,
or at least of the manner in which it was spoken,
Eleanor replied that she was. Norland is a prodigious, beautiful place,

(03:26:50):
is not it, added Miss Steele. We have heard Sir
John admire it excessively, said Lucy, who seemed to think
some apology necessary for the freedom of her sister. I
think every one must admire it, replied Eleanor, whoever saw
the place, though it is not to be supposed that
any one can estimate its beauties as we do. And
you had a great many smart bows there, I suppose

(03:27:13):
you have not so many in this part of the world.
For my part, I think they are a vast addition always.
But why should you think, said Lucy, looking ashamed of
her sister, that there are not as many genteel young
men in Devonshire as Sussex. Nay, my dear, I am sure.
I don't pretend to say that there aren't. I am
sure there's a vast many smart bows in Exeter. But

(03:27:34):
you know, how could I tell what smart bows there
might be about Norland? And I was only afraid the
miss Dashwoods might find it dull at Barton if they
had not so many as they used to have. But
perhaps you young ladies may not care about the bows,
and had as leaf be without them as with them.
For my part, I think they are vastly agreeable, provided
they dress smart and behave civil But I can't bear

(03:27:55):
to see them dirty and nasty. Now there's mister Rose
at Exeter, a predition, a smart young man, quite a
beau clerk to mister Simpson, you know, and yet if
you do but meet him of a morning, he is
not fit to be seen. I suppose your brother was
quite a bow as Dashwood before he married, as he
was so rich upon my word, replied Eleanor I cannot
tell you, for I do not perfectly comprehend the meaning

(03:28:18):
of the word. But this I can say that if
he ever was a beau before he married, he is
one still, for there is not the smallest alteration in him.
Oh dear, one never thinks of married men's being beaus.
They have something else to do. Lord Anne, cried her sister.
You can talk of nothing but beaus, you will make
Miss Dashwood believe you think of nothing else. And then

(03:28:41):
to turn the discourse, she began admiring the house and
the furniture. This specimen of the Miss Steeles was enough.
The vulgar freedom and folly of the eldest sister left
her no recommendation, and as Elinor was not blinded by
the beauty or the shrewd look of the youngest to
her want of real elegance and artlessness, she left the
house without any wish of knowing them better. Not so

(03:29:04):
the miss Steeles. They came from Exeter well provided with
admiration for the use of Sir John Middleton, his family
and all his relations, and no niggardly proportion was now
dealt out to his fair cousins, whom they declared to
be the most beautiful, elegant, accomplished and agreeable girls they
had ever beheld, and with whom they were particularly anxious
to be better acquainted. And to be better acquainted. Therefore,

(03:29:27):
Eleanor soon found was their inevitable lot, for as Sir
John was entirely on the side of the Miss Steeles,
their party would be too strong for opposition and that
kind of intimacy must be submitted to, which consists of
sitting an hour or two together in the same room
almost every day. Sir John could do no more, but
he did not know that any more was required to

(03:29:48):
be together, was in his opinion to be intimate. And
while his continual schemes for their meeting were effectual, he
had not a doubt of their being established friends. To
do him justice. He did everything in his power to
promote their unreserve by making the miss Steeles acquainted with
whatever he knew or supposed of his cousin's situations in
the most delicate particulars And Eleanor had not seen them

(03:30:10):
more than twice before. The eldest of them wished her
joy on her sister's having been so lucky as to
make a conquest of a very smart beau. Since she
came to Barton, twill be a fine thing to have
her married so young, to be sure, said she, and
I hear he is quite a beau and prodigious handsome,
and I hope you may have as good luck yourself soon.
But perhaps you may have a friend in the corner already.

(03:30:33):
Eleanor could not suppose that Sir John would be more
nice in proclaiming his suspicions of a regard for Edward
than he had been with respect to Mary Anne. Indeed,
it was rather his favorite joke of the two, as
being somewhat newer and more conjectural. And since Edward's visit
they had never dined together without his drinking to her
best affections, with so much significancy and so many nods

(03:30:54):
and winks as to excite general attention. The letter F
had been likewise variably brought forward and found productive of
such countless jokes, that its character as the wittiest letter
in the alphabet had been long established with Eleanor. The
Miss Steeles, as she expected, had now all the benefit
of these jokes, and in the eldest of them, they

(03:31:16):
raised a curiosity to know the name of the gentleman
alluded to, which, though often impertinently expressed, was perfectly of
a piece with her general inquisitiveness into the concerns of
their family. But Sir John did not sport long with
the curiosity which he delighted to raise, for he had
at least as much pleasure in telling the name as
Miss Steele had in hearing it His name is Ferris,

(03:31:38):
said he in a very audible whisper. But pray do
not tell it, for it's a great secret. Ferris, repeated
Miss Steele. Mister Ferris is the happy man? Is he? What?
Your sister in law's brother, Miss Dashwood? A very agreeable
young man? To be sure, I know him very well?
How can you say so, Anne, cried Lucy, who generally

(03:31:58):
made an amendment to all her sister's assertions. Though we
have seen him once or twice at my uncle's, it
is rather too much to pretend to know him very well.
Eleanor heard all this with attention and surprise. And who
was this uncle? Where did he live? How came they acquainted?
She wished very much to have the subject continued, though

(03:32:19):
she did not choose to join in it herself. But
nothing more of it was said, and for the first
time in her life she thought missus Jennings deficient, either
in curiosity after petty information or in a disposition to
communicate it. The manner in which Miss Steele had spoken
of Edward increased her curiosity, for it struck her as
being rather ill natured, and suggested the suspicion of that

(03:32:40):
lady's knowing or fancying herself to know something to his disadvantage,
but her curiosity was unavailing. For no farther notice was
taken of mister Ferrer's name by Miss Steele when alluded
to or even openly mentioned by Sir John end of
chapter twenty one, Chapter twenty two of Sense and Sensibility

(03:33:05):
by Jane Austen. This LibriVox recording is in the public
domain recording by Karen Savage, Chapter twenty two. Mary Anne,
who had never much toleration for anything like impertinence, vulgarity,
inferiority of parts, or even difference of taste from herself,
was at this time particularly ill disposed from the state

(03:33:25):
of her spirits to be pleased with the miss Steeles
or to encourage their advances, and to the invariable coldness
of her behavior towards them, which checked every endeavorate intimacy
on their side. Eleanor 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

(03:33:45):
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, Eleanor frequently found
her agreeable. But her powers had received no aid from education.
She was ignorant and illiterate, and her deficiency of all

(03:34:08):
mental improvement, her want of information in the most common particulars,
could not be concealed from Miss Dashwood. In spite of
her constant endeavor to appear to advantage, Eleanor 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

(03:34:30):
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 show of attention and deference toward herself perfectly valueless.

(03:34:54):
You will think my question an odd one, I d
Essay said, Lucy to her one day, as they were
walking together from the part the cottage, But pray, are
you personally acquainted with your sister in law's mother, missus Ferris.
Eleanor did think the question a very odd one, and
her countenance expressed it as she answered that she had
never seen Missus Ferris. Indeed, replied Lucy, I wonder at that,

(03:35:18):
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 Eleanor, 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 inquiring

(03:35:39):
about her in such a way, said Lucy, eyeing Eleanor
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. Eleanor made her a civil reply,
and they walked on for a few minutes in silence.
It was broken by Lucy, who renewed subject again by saying,

(03:36:01):
with some hesitation, I cannot bear to have you think
me impertinently curious. I am sure I would rather do
anything 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,

(03:36:22):
as I am. But however, there is no occasion to
trouble you. I am sorry you do not happen to
know Missus Ferris. I am sorry I do not, said
Eleanor 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.

(03:36:45):
I daresay 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.
Missus Ferris is certainly nothing to me at present, but
the time may come. How soon will come must depend
upon herself. When we may be very intimately connected. She

(03:37:05):
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 Eleanor, what do you mean?
Are you acquainted with mister Robert Ferris? Can you be?
And she did not feel much delighted with the idea
of such a sister in law. No, replied Lucy, Not

(03:37:26):
to mister Robert Ferris, I never saw him in my life,
but fixing her eyes upon Eleanor to his eldest brother.
What felt Eleanor at that moment astonishment that would have
been as painful as it was strong, had not an
immediate disbelief at the assertion attended it? She turned towards
Lucy in silent amazement, unable to divine the reason or

(03:37:49):
object of such a declaration, And though her complexion varied,
she stood firm in incredulity and felt in no danger
of a 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

(03:38:10):
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 should never have mentioned it to you if
I had not felt the greatest dependence in the world
upon your secrecy. And I really thought my behavior in
asking so many questions about missus Ferris must seem odd
that it ought to be explained. And I do not

(03:38:31):
think mister Ferris 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,

(03:38:54):
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, Eleanor, though
greatly shocked, still felt unable to believe it. I did

(03:39:15):
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, mister Pratt. Did you never hear
him talk of mister Pratt? I think I have replied

(03:39:35):
Eleanor with an exertion of spirits, which increased with her
increase of emotion. He was four years with my uncle,
who lives at Lunstable, 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.

(03:39:57):
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

(03:40:19):
she said, But after a moment's reflection, she added, with
revived security of Edward's honor and love and her companion's falsehood,
engaged to mister Edward Ferris. 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, mister Ferris.

(03:40:40):
We can mean no other, cried Lucy, smiling. Mister Edward Ferris.
The eldest son of Missus Ferris of Park Street, and
brother of your sister in law, Missus 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 whom all my happiness depends. It is strange,
replied Eleanor, in a most painful perplexity, that I should

(03:41:02):
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 anything.

(03:41:23):
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

(03:41:45):
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 drueful. I have had it above
these three years. She put it into her hands as
she spoke, And when Eleanor saw the painting, whatever other doubts,
her fear of a too hasty decision, or her wish

(03:42:07):
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

(03:42:31):
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,

(03:42:52):
and I fancy she is an exceeding proud woman. I
certainly did not seek your confidence, said Eleanor. But you
do mean 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.

(03:43:14):
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

(03:43:37):
you and all your family by description a great while,
and as soon as I saw you, I felt almost
as if I 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

(03:43:57):
person that knows of it, and she has no judgment. 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 to 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

(03:44:18):
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. Everything 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 Eleanor did not feel very compassionate, sometimes,

(03:44:41):
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,

(03:45:03):
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 Eleanor,
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.

(03:45:24):
On both sides. His mother must provide for him some
time 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 Longstable 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,

(03:45:45):
he had been staying a fortnight with us. Did you
think he came directly from town? No, replied Eleanor most
feelingly sensible of every fresh circumstance in favor 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

(03:46:05):
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

(03:46:27):
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 Eleanor. 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

(03:46:48):
he had just filled the sheet to me as full
as possible. Eleanor 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

(03:47:09):
be authorized 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,

(03:47:31):
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 longstable last, And that was some comfort to him,
he said, but not equal to a picture. Perhaps you

(03:47:52):
might notice the ring when you saw him, I did,
said Eleanor, with a composure of voice, under which was
concealed in emotion and distress beyond anything 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 further. After sitting with them a few minutes,

(03:48:14):
the miss Steeles returned to the park, and Eleanor was
then at liberty to think and be wretched. End of
chapter twenty two, Chapter twenty three of Sense and Sensibility
by Jane Austen. This LibriVox recording is in the public
domain recording by Karen Savage, Chapter twenty three. However small

(03:48:39):
Eleanor's general dependence on Lucy's veracity might be, it was
impossible for her, on serious reflection to suspect it in
the present case, where no temptation could be answerable to
the folly of inventing a falsehood of such a description.
What Lucia had asserted to be true. Therefore Eleanor could
not dared not longer doubt supported, as it was too

(03:49:01):
on every side by such probabilities and proofs, and contradicted
by nothing but her own wishes. Their opportunity of acquaintance
in the house of mister Pratt was a foundation for
the rest, at once indisputable and alarming, and Edward's visit
near Plymouth, his melancholy state of mind, his dissatisfaction at
his own prospects, his uncertain behavior towards herself, the intimate

(03:49:24):
knowledge of the miss Steeles as to Norland and their
family connections, which had often surprised her, The picture, the letter,
the ring formed altogether such a body of evidence as
overcame every fear of condemning him unfairly, and established as
a fact which no partiality could set aside his ill
treatment of herself, Her resentment of such behavior, her indignation

(03:49:46):
at having been its dupe for a short time, made
her feel only for herself, but other ideas. Other considerations
soon arose. Had Edward been intentionally deceiving her, had he
feigned a regard for her which he did not feel,
was his engagement to Lucy, an engagement of the heart. No,
whatever it might once have been, she could not believe

(03:50:08):
it such. At present his affection was all her own.
She could not be deceived in that her mother, sisters
Fanny all had been conscious of his regard for her
at Norland. It was not an illusion of her own vanity.
He certainly loved her. What a softener of the heart
was this persuasion? How much could it not tempt her
to forgive? He had been blameable, highly blameable, in remaining

(03:50:31):
at Norland after he first felt her influence over him
to be more than it ought to be, in that
he could not be defended. But if he had injured her,
how much more had he injured himself? If her case
were pitiable, his was hopeless. His imprudence had made her
miserable for a while, but it seemed to have deprived
himself of all chance of ever being Otherwise, she might

(03:50:55):
in time regain tranquility. But he what had he to
look forward to? Could he ever be tolerably happy with
Lucy Steele? Could he were his affection for herself out
of the question, With his integrity, his delicacy, and well
informed mind be satisfied with a wife like her illiterate, artful,
and selfish. The youthful infatuation of nineteen would naturally blind

(03:51:18):
him to everything but her beauty and good nature. But
the four succeeding years, years which, if rationally spent, give
such improvement to the understanding, must have opened his eyes
to her defects of education, while the same period of
time spent on her side in inferior society and more
frivolous pursuits, had perhaps robbed her of that simplicity which

(03:51:39):
might once have given an interesting character to her beauty.
If in the supposition of his seeking to marry herself,
his difficulties from his mother had seemed great, how much
greater were they now likely to be, when the object
of his engagement was undoubtedly inferior in connections and probably
inferior in fortune to herself. These its difficulties, indeed, with

(03:52:01):
her heart so alienated from Lucy, might not press very
hard upon his patients. But melancholy was the state of
the person by whom the expectation of family, opposition and
unkindness could be felt as a relief. As these considerations
occurred to her in painful succession, she wept for him
more than for herself, supported by the conviction of having

(03:52:23):
done nothing to merit her present unhappiness, and consoled by
the belief that Edward had done nothing to forfeit her esteem.
She thought she could, even now, under the first smart
of the heavy blow, command herself enough to guard every
suspicion of the truth from her mother and sisters. And
so well was she able to answer her own expectations
that when she joined them at dinner, only two hours

(03:52:44):
after she had first suffered the extinction of all her
dearest hopes, no one would have supposed from the appearance
of the sisters that Eleanor was mourning in secret over
obstacles which must divide her forever from the object of
her love, and that mary Anne was internally dwelling on
the perfection of a man of whose whole heart she
felt thoroughly possessed, and whom she expected to see in

(03:53:05):
every carriage which drove near their house. The necessity of
concealing from her mother and mary Anne what had been
entrusted in confidence to herself, though it obliged her to
unceasing exertion, was no aggravation of Eleanor's distress. On the contrary,
it was a relief to her to be spared the
communication of what would give such affliction to them, and

(03:53:25):
to be saved likewise from hearing that condemnation of Edward,
which would probably flow from the excess of their partial
affection for herself, and which was more than she felt
equal to support from their counsel or their conversation. She
knew she could receive no assistance. Their tenderness and sorrow
must add to her distress, while her self command would
neither receive encouragement from their example nor from their praise.

(03:53:49):
She was stronger alone, and her own good sense so
well supported her that her firmness was as unshaken, her
appearance of cheerfulness as invariable, as with regrets so poignant
and so fresh, it was possible for them to be
much as she had suffered from her first conversation with
Lucy on the subject. She soon felt an earnest wish
of renewing it, and this for more reasons than one.

(03:54:12):
She wanted to hear many particulars of their engagement repeated again.
She wanted more clearly to understand what Lucy really felt
for Edward, whether there were any sincerity in her declaration
of tender regard for him, and she particularly wanted to
convince Lucy, by her readiness to enter on the matter
again and her calmness in conversing on it, that she
was no otherwise interested in it than as a friend,

(03:54:35):
which she very much feared. Her involuntary agitation in their
mourning discourse must have left at least doubtful that Lucy
was disposed to be jealous of her appeared very probable.
It was plain that Edward had always spoken highly in
her praise, not merely from Lucy's assertion, but from her
venturing to trust her on so short a personal acquaintance
with a secret so confessedly and evidently important, and even

(03:54:59):
Sir John's joke king intelligence must have had some weight.
But indeed, while Eleanor remained so well assured within herself
of being really beloved by Edward, it required no other
consideration of probabilities to make it natural that Lucy should
be jealous, and that she was so her very confidence
was a proof. What other reason for the disclosure of
the affair could there be but that Eleanor might be

(03:55:20):
informed by it of Lucy's superior claims on Edward, and
be taught to avoid him in future. She had little
difficulty in understanding thus much of her rival's intentions, And
while she was firmly resolved to act by her as
every principle of honor and honesty directed to combat her
own affection for Edward and to see him as little
as possible, she could not deny herself the comfort of

(03:55:41):
endeavoring to convince Lucy that her heart was unwounded. And
as she could now have nothing more painful to hear
on the subject than had already been told, she did
not mistrust her own ability of going through a repetition
of particulars with composure. But it was not immediately that
an opportunity of doing so could be commanded, though Lucy
was as well disposed as herself to take advantage of

(03:56:02):
any that occurred. For the weather was not often fine
enough to allow of their joining in a walk where
they might most easily separate themselves from the others, And
though they met at least every other evening, either at
the park or cottage, and chiefly at the former, they
could not be supposed to meet for the sake of conversation.
Such a thought would never enter either Sir John or
Lady Middleton's head, and therefore very little leisure was ever

(03:56:25):
given for a general chat, and none at all for
particular discourse. They met for the sake of eating, drinking,
and laughing together, playing at cards or consequences, or any
other game that was sufficiently noisy. One or two meetings
of this kind had taken place without affording Eleanor any
chance of engaging Lucy in private. When Sir John called
at the cottage one morning to beg in the name

(03:56:47):
of charity, that they would all dine with Lady Middleton
that day, as he was obliged to attend the club
at Exeter, and she would otherwise be quite alone except
her mother and the two miss Steeles. Eleanor, who foresaw
a fairer opening for the point she had in view
in such a party, as this was likely to be
more at liberty among themselves under the tranquil and well
bred direction of Lady Middleton than when her husband united

(03:57:09):
them together in one noisy purpose, immediately accepted the invitation. Margaret,
with her mother's permission, was equally compliant, and Mary Anne,
though always unwilling to join any of their parties, was
persuaded by her mother, who could not bear to have
her seclude herself from any chance of amusement to go. Likewise,
the young ladies went, and Lady Middleton was happily preserved

(03:57:31):
from the frightful solitude which had threatened her. The incipidity
of the meeting was exactly such as Elena had expected.
It produced not one novelty of thought or expression, and
nothing could be less interesting than the whole of their discourse,
both in the dining parlor and drawing room. To the
latter the children accompanied them, and while they remained there,
she was too well convinced of the impossibility of engaging

(03:57:53):
Lucy's attention to attempt it. They quitted it only with
the removal of the tea things. The card table was
then placed, and Eleanor began to wonder at herself for
ever having entertained a hope of finding time for conversation.
At the park, they all rose up in preparation for
a round game. I am glad, said Lady Middleton to Lucy.
You are not going to finish poor little Anna Maria's

(03:58:15):
basket this evening, for I am sure it must hurt
your eyes to work filigree by candle light. And we
will make the dear little love summ amends for her
disappointment to morrow, and then I hope she will not
much mind it. The hint was enough. Lucy recollected herself
instantly and replied, indeed, you are very much mistaken, Lady Middleton.
I am only waiting to know whether you can make

(03:58:36):
your party without me, or I should have been at
my filigree already. I would not disappoint the little angel
for all the world. And if you want me at
the card table now, I am resolved to finish the
basket after supper. You are very good. I hope it
won't hurt your eyes. Will you ring the bell for
some working candles? My poor little girl would be sadly disappointed,
I know if the basket was not finished to morrow,

(03:58:58):
for though I told her it certainly would not. I
am sure she depends upon having it done. Lucy directly
drew her work table near her and re seated herself
with an alacrity and cheerfulness which seemed to infer that
she could taste no greater delight than in making a
filigree basket for a spoiled child. Lady Middleton proposed a
rubber of cassino to the others. No one made any objection,

(03:59:20):
but Mary Anne, who with her usual inattention to the
forms of general civility, exclaimed, your ladyship will have the
goodness to excuse me. You know I detest cards. I
shall go to the pianoforte. I have not touched it
since it was tuned. And without further ceremony, she turned
away and walked to the instrument. Lady Middleton looked as
if she thanked Heaven that she had never made so

(03:59:42):
rude a speech. Mary Anne can never keep long from
that instrument, you know, ma'am, said Eleanor, endeavoring to smooth
away the offense. I do not much wonder at it,
for it is the very best toned pianoforte I ever heard.
The remaining five were now to draw their cards. Perhaps
kneed Eleanor, if I should happen to cut out, I

(04:00:02):
may be of some use to Miss Lucy Steele in
rolling her papers for her. And there is so much
still to be done to the basket that it must
be impossible, I think, for her labor singly to finish
it this evening. I should like the work exceedingly. If
she would allow me a share in it. Indeed, I
shall be very much obliged to you for your help,
cried Lucy, for I find there is more to be
done to it than I thought there was, and it

(04:00:24):
would be a shocking thing to disappoint dear Anna Maria
after all, Oh, that would be terrible, indeed, said miss Steele.
Dear little soul, how I do love her. You are
very kind, said Lady Middleton to Eleanor, And as you
really like the work, perhaps you will be as well
pleased not to cut in till another rubber or will
you take your chance now? Eleanor, joyfully profited by the

(04:00:46):
first of these proposals, and thus by a little of
that address, which mary Anne could never condescend to practice,
gained her own end and pleased Lady Middleton. At the
same time, Lucy made room for her with ready attention,
and the two fair rivals thus seated side by side
at the same table, and with the utmost harmony, engaged
in forwarding the same work, the Pianoforte, at which mary Anne,

(04:01:09):
wrapped up in her own music and her own thoughts,
had by this time forgotten that anybody was in the
room beside herself, was luckily so near them that Miss
Dashwood now judged she might safely, under the shelter of
its noise, introduce the interesting subject without any risk of
being heard at the card table end of chapter twenty three.

(04:01:33):
Chapter twenty four of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by
Karen Savage, Chapter twenty four. In a firm, though cautious tone,
Eleanor thus began, I should be undeserving of the confidence
you have honored me with if I felt no desire
for its continuance, or no further curiosity on its subject,

(04:01:57):
I will not apologize therefore for bringing it forward again.
Thank you, cried lucy warmly, for breaking the ice. You
have set my heart at ease by it. For I was,
somehow or other afraid I had offended you by what
I had told you that Monday offended me? How could
you suppose so believe me? And Elinor spoke it with
the truest sincerity. Nothing could be farther from my intention

(04:02:20):
than to give you such an idea. Could you have
a motive for the trust that was not honorable and
flattering to me? And yet I do assure, you replied Lucy,
her little sharp eyes full of meaning, there seemed to
me to be a coldness and displeasure in your manner
that made me quite uncomfortable. I felt sure that you
was angry with me, and have been quarreling with myself

(04:02:40):
ever since for having took such a liberty as to
trouble you with my affairs. But I am very glad
to find it was only my own fancy, and that
you really do not blame me. If you knew what
a consolation it was to me to relieve my heart
speaking to you of what I am always thinking of
every moment of my life. Your compassion would make you
overlook everything else. I am sure, indeed, I can easily

(04:03:00):
believe that it was a very great relief to you
to acknowledge your situation to me and be assured that
you shall never have reason to repent it. Your case
is a very unfortunate one. You seem to me to
be surrounded with difficulties, and you will have need of
all your mutual affection to support you under them. Mister Ferrars,
I believe is entirely dependent on his mother. He has

(04:03:21):
only two thousand pounds of his own it would be
madness to marry upon that, though for my own part
I could give up every prospect of more without a sigh.
I have always been used to a very small income
and could struggle with any poverty for him. But I
love him too well to be the selfish means of
robbing him, perhaps of all that his mother might give
him if he married to please her. We must wait.

(04:03:44):
It may be for many years. With almost every other
man in the world, it would be an alarming prospect.
But Edward's affection and constancy nothing can deprive me of
I know that conviction must be everything to you, and
he is undoubtedly supported by the same trust in yours.
If the strength of your reciprocal attachment had failed, as

(04:04:04):
between many people and under many circumstances, it naturally would
during a four years engagement, your situation would have been pitiable. Indeed,
Lucy here looked up, but Eleanor was careful in guarding
her countenance from every expression that could give her words
a suspicious tendency. Edward's love for me, said Lucy, has
been pretty well put to the test by our long,

(04:04:26):
very long absence since we were first engaged, and it
has stood the trial so well that I should be
unpardonable to doubt it. Now I can safely say that
he has never gave me one moment's alarm. On that account.
From the first, Eleanor hardly knew whether to smile or
sigh at this assertion. Lucy went on, I am rather

(04:04:48):
of a jealous temper too, by nature, and from our
different situations in life, from his being so much more
in the world than me, and our continual separation. I
was enough inclined for suspicion to have found out the
truth in an instant. If there had been the slightest
alteration in his behavior to me when we met, or
any lowness of spirits that I could not account for,

(04:05:08):
or if he had talked more of one lady than another,
or seemed in any respect less happy at Longstable than
he used to be. I do not mean to say
that I am particularly observant or quick sighted in general,
but in such a case, I am sure I could
not be deceived. All this thought, Eleanor is very pretty,
but it can impose upon neither of us. But what

(04:05:31):
said she after a short silence, are your views or
have you none but that of waiting for Missus Ferrers's death,
which is a melancholy and shocking extremity. Is her son
determined to submit to this and to all the tediousness
of the many years of suspense in which it may
involve you, rather than run the risk of her displeasure
for a while by owning the truth. If we could

(04:05:52):
be certain that it would be only for a while.
But Missus Ferris is a very headstrong, proud woman, and
in her first fit of anger upon hearing it would
very likely secure everything to Robert, and the idea of
that for Edward's sake frightens away all my inclination for
hasty measures, and for your own sake too. Or are

(04:06:13):
you carrying your disinterestedness beyond reason? Lucy looked at Eleanor
again and was silent. Do you know mister Robert Ferris,
asked Eleanor, not at all. I never saw him, but
I fancy he is very unlike his brother, silly, and
a great coxcomb. A great Coxcomb, repeated Miss Steele, whose
ear had caught those words by a sudden pause in

(04:06:35):
Mary Anne's music. Oh they are talking of their favorite baws.
I dare say no, sister, cried Lucy. You are mistaken there.
Our favorite bows are not great Coxcombs. I can answer
for it that Miss Dashwood's is not, said missus Jennings,
laughing heartily, for he is one of the modestest, prettiest
behave young men I ever saw. But as for Lucy,

(04:06:56):
she is such a sly little creature there is no
finding out who she likes. Oh, cried Miss Steele, looking
significantly round at them. I dare say Lucy's beau is
quite as modest and pretty behaved as Miss Dashwood's Eleanor
blushed in spite of herself. Lucy bit her lip and
looked angrily at her sister. A mutual silence took place

(04:07:17):
for some time. Lucy first put an end to it
by saying, in a lower tone, though Mary Anne was
then giving them the powerful protection of a very magnificent concerto.
I will honestly tell you of one scheme which has
lately come into my head for bringing matters to bear. Indeed,
I am bound to let you into the secret, for
you are a party concerned. I dare say you have

(04:07:39):
seen enough of Edward to know that he would prefer
the church to every other profession. Now my plan is
that he should take orders as soon as he can,
and then through your interest, which I am sure you
would be kind enough to use out of friendship for him,
and I hope out of some regard to me, your
brother might be persuaded to give him norland living, which

(04:07:59):
I understand is a very good one, and the present
incumbent not likely to live a great while. That would
be enough for us to marry upon, and we might
trust a time and chance for the rest. I should
always be happy, replied eleanor to show any mark of
esteem and friendship for mister Ferris. But do you not
perceive that my interest on such an occasion would be

(04:08:20):
perfectly unnecessary. He is brother to missus John Dashwood. That
must be recommendation enough to her husband. But Missus John
Dashwood would not much approve of Edward's going into orders.
Then I rather suspect that my interest would do very little.
They were again silent for many minutes. At length, Lucy

(04:08:40):
exclaimed with a deep sigh. I believe it would be
the wisest way to put an end to the business
at once by dissolving the engagement. We seem so beset
with difficulties on every side, that though it would make
us miserable for a time, we should be happier perhaps
in the end. But you will not give me your advice,
Miss Dashwood, No, answered Eleanor, with a smile which concealed

(04:09:03):
very agitated feelings on such a subject. I certainly will not.
You know very well that my opinion would have no
weight with you unless it were on the side of
your wishes. Indeed, you wrong me, replied Lucy, with great solemnity.
I know nobody of whose judgment I think so highly
as I do of yours, And I do really believe

(04:09:24):
that if you was to say to me, I advise
you by all means to put an end to your
engagement with Edward Ferris, it will be more for the
happiness of both of you. I should resolve upon doing
it immediately. Eleanor blushed for the insincerity of Edward's future wife,
and replied, this compliment would effectually frighten me from giving
any opinion on the subject had I formed one. It

(04:09:45):
raises my influence much too high. The power of dividing
two people so tenderly attached is too much for an
indifferent person. Tis because you are an indifferent person, said
Lucy with some pique, and laying a particular stress on
those words, that your judgment might justly have such weight
with me. If you could be supposed to be biased

(04:10:05):
in any respect by our own feelings, your opinion would
not be worth having. Eleanor thought it wisest to make
no answer to this, lest they might provoke each other
to an unsuitable increase of ease and unreserve, and was
even partly determined never to mention the subject again. Another pause, therefore,
of many minutes duration succeeded this speech, and Lucy was

(04:10:27):
still the first to end it. Shall you be in
town this winter? Miss Dashwood, said she, with all her
accustomary complacency, certainly not. I am sorry for that, returned
the other, while her eyes brightened at the information. It
would have gave me such pleasure to meet you there.
But I dare say you will go for all that.
To be sure, your brother and sister will ask you

(04:10:47):
to come with them. It will not be in my
power to accept their invitation if they do. How unlucky
that is. I had quite depended upon meeting you there.
Anne and me are to go the latter end of
January to some relations who have been wanting us to
visit them these several years. But I only go for
the sake of seeing Edward. He will be there in February.
Otherwise London would have no chance for me. I have

(04:11:10):
not spirits for it. Eleanor was soon called to the
card table by the conclusion of the first rubber, and
the confidential discourse of the two ladies was therefore at
an end, to which both of them submitted without any reluctance,
for nothing had been said on either side to make
them dislike each other less than they had done before.
And Eleanor sat down to the card table with the
melancholy persuasion that Edward was not only without affection for

(04:11:33):
the person who was to be his wife, but that
he had not even the chance of being tolerably happy
in marriage, which sincere affection on her side would have given,
for self interest alone could induce a woman to keep
a man to an engagement of which she seemed so
thoroughly aware that he was weary. From this time, the
subject was never revived by Eleanor, and when entered on

(04:11:54):
by Lucy, who seldom missed an opportunity of introducing it,
and was particularly careful to inform her confidant of her happiness.
Whenever she received a letter from Edward, it was treated
by the former with calmness and caution, and dismissed as
soon as civility would allow, for she felt such conversations
to be an indulgence which Lucy did not deserve, and
which were dangerous to herself. The visit of the miss

(04:12:16):
Steeles at Barton Park was lengthened far beyond what the
first invitation implied. Their favor increased, they could not be spared.
Sir John would not hear of their going, and, in
spite of their numerous and long arranged engagements and exeter
in spite of the absolute necessity of returning to fulfill
them immediately, which was in full force at the end
of every week, they were prevailed on to stay nearly

(04:12:37):
two months at the park and to assist in the
due celebration of that festival which requires a more than
ordinary share of private balls and large dinners to proclaim
its importance. End of chapter twenty four Chapter twenty five
of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. This LibriVox according

(04:13:00):
is in the public domain. Recording by Karen Savage, chapter
twenty five. Though Missus Jennings was in the habit of
spending a large portion of the year at the houses
of her children and friends, she was not without a
settled habitation of her own. Since the death of her husband,
who had traded with success in a less elegant part
of the town, she had resided every winter in a

(04:13:22):
house in one of the streets near Portmant Square. Towards
this home she began, on the approach of January to
turn her thoughts, and thither she one day, abruptly and
very unexpectedly by them, asked the elder Missus Dashwood to
accompany her eleanor, without observing the varying complexion of her
sister and the animated look, which spoke no indifference to

(04:13:42):
the plan, immediately gave a grateful but absolute denial for both,
in which she believed herself to be speaking their united inclinations.
The reason alleged was their determined resolution of not leaving
their mother at that time of the year. Missus Jennings
received the refusal with some surprise, and repeated her invitation immediately.

(04:14:03):
Oh Lord, I am sure your mother can spare you
very well, and I do beg you will favor me
with your company, for I have quite set my heart
upon it. Don't fancy that you will be any inconvenience
to me, for I shan't put myself at all out
of my way for you. It will only be sending
Betty by the coat. And I hope I can afford
that we three shall be able to go very well
in my chaise. And when we are in town, if

(04:14:25):
you do not like to go wherever I do well
and good, you may always go with one of my daughters.
I am sure your mother will not object to it,
for I have had such good luck in getting my
own children off my hands that she will think me
a very fit person to have the charge of you.
And if I don't get one of you at least
well married before I have done with you, it shall
not be my fault. I shall speak a good word

(04:14:47):
for you to all the young men. You may depend
upon it. I have a notion, said Sir John, that
Miss Maryanne would not object to such a scheme if
her older sister would come into it. It is very hard, indeed,
that she should not have a little play, because Miss
Dashwood does not wish it. So I would advise you
too to set off for town when you are tired
of Barton without saying a word to Miss Dashwood about it. Nay,

(04:15:11):
cried missus Jennings. I am sure I shall be monstrous
glad of Miss mary Anne's company, whether Miss Dashwood will
go or not. Only the more the merrier, say I.
And I thought it would be more comfortable for them
to be together, because if they got tired of me,
they might talk to one another and laugh at my
old ways behind my back. But one or the other,
if not both of them, I must have, Lord bless me.

(04:15:32):
How do you think I can live poking by myself,
I who have always been used till this winter to
have Charlotte with me. Come, Miss mary Anne, let us
strike hands upon the bargain. And if Miss Dashwood will
change her mind by and by, why so much the better.
Thank you, ma'am, sincerely, thank you, said Mary Anne with warmth.
Your invitation has assured my gratitude forever, and it would

(04:15:55):
give me such happiness, Yes, almost the greatest happiness I
am capable of to be able to accept it. But
my mother, my dearest kindest mother, I feel the justice
of what Eleanor has urged, and if she were to
be made less happy, less comfortable by our absence, Oh no,
nothing should tempt me to leave her. It should not

(04:16:15):
must not be a struggle. Missus Jennings repeated her assurance
that Missus Dashwood could spare them perfectly well. And Eleanor,
who now understood her sister and saw to what indifference
to almost everything else she was carried by her eagerness
to be with Willoughby, again made no further direct opposition
to the plan, and merely referred it to her mother's decision,
from whom, however, she scarcely expected to receive any support

(04:16:38):
in her endeavor to prevent a visit which she could
not approve of from mary Anne, and which on her
own account, she had particular reasons to avoid. Whatever mary
Anne was desirous of her mother would be eager to promote,
she could not expect to influence the latter to cautiousness
of conduct in an affair respecting which she had never
been able to inspire her with distrust, and she dared

(04:17:00):
not explain the motive of her own disinclination for going
to London that mary Anne, fastidious as she was, thoroughly
acquainted with Missus Jennings's manners and invariably disgusted by them,
should overlook every inconvenience of that kind, should disregard whatever
must be most wounding to her irritable feelings in her
pursuit of one object. Was such a proof, so strong,

(04:17:21):
so full of the importance of that object to her,
as Eleanor in spite of all that had passed, was
not prepared to witness. On being informed of the invitation,
Missus Dashwood persuaded that such an excursion would be productive
of much amusement to both her daughters, and, perceiving through
all her affectionate attention to herself, how much the heart
of Mary Anne was in it, would not hear of

(04:17:43):
their declining the offer, upon her account, insisted on there
both accepting it directly, and then began to foresee, with
her usual cheerfulness, a variety of advantages that would accrue
to them all from this separation. I am delighted with
the plan, she cried. It is exactly what I could wish, Margret,
and I shall be as much benefited by it as yourselves.
When you and the Middletons are gone, we shall go

(04:18:05):
on so quietly and happily, together with our books and
our music. You will find Margaret so improved when you
come back again. I have a little plan of alteration
for your bedrooms too, which may now be performed without
any inconvenience to any one. It is very right that
you should go to town. I would have every young
woman of your condition in life acquainted with the manners
and amusements of London. You will be under the care

(04:18:27):
of a motherly, good sort of woman, of whose kindness
to you I can have no doubt, And in all
probability you will see your brother, and whatever may be
his faults or the faults of his wife. When I
consider whose sonny is, I cannot bear to have you
so wholly estranged from each other. Though with your usual
anxiety for our happiness, said Eleanor, you have been obviating

(04:18:48):
every impediment to the present scheme which occur to you,
there is still one objection which, in my opinion, cannot
be so easily removed. Mary Anne's countenance sunk. And what,
said missus Dashwood, is my dear prudent Eleanor going to
suggest what formidable obstacle is she now to bring forward?
Do let me hear a word about the expense of it.

(04:19:10):
My objection is this, though I think very well of
Missus Jennings's heart, she is not a woman whose society
can afford us pleasure or whose protection will give us consequence.
That is very true, replied her mother. But of her
society separately from that of other people, you will scarcely
have anything at all, and you will almost always appear

(04:19:30):
in public with Lady Middleton. If Eleanor is frightened away
by her dislike of Missus Jennings, said mary Anne, at
least it need not prevent my accepting her invitation. I
have no such scruples, and I am sure I could
put up with every unpleasantness of that kind with very
little effort. Eleanor could not help smiling at this display
of indifference towards the manner of a person to whom

(04:19:52):
she had often had difficulty in persuading mary Anne to
behave with tolerable politeness, and resolved within herself that if
her sister persisted in going, she would go likewise, as
she did not think it proper that mary Anne should
be left to the sole guidance of her own judgment,
or that Missus Jennings should be abandoned to the mercy
of mary Anne for all the comfort of her domestic hours.

(04:20:12):
To this determination, she was the more easily reconciled by
recollecting that Edward Ferris, by Lucy's account, was not to
be in town before February, and that their visit, without
any unreasonable abridgment, might be previously finished. I will have
you both go, said Missus Dashwood. These objections are unsensical.
You will have much pleasure in being in London, and

(04:20:34):
especially in being together. And if Eleanor would ever condescend
to anticipate enjoyment, she would foresee it there from a
variety of sources. She would perhaps expect some from improving
her acquaintance with her sister in law's family. Elinor had
often wished for an opportunity of attempting to weaken her
mother's dependence on the attachment of Edward and herself, that

(04:20:55):
the shock might be less when the whole truth were revealed,
And now on this attack, though almost hopeless of success,
she forced herself to begin her design by saying, as
calmly as she could, I like Edward Ferris very much
and shall always be glad to see him. But as
to the rest of the family, it is a matter
of perfect indifference to me whether I am ever known
to them or not. Missus Dashwood smiled and said nothing.

(04:21:18):
Mary Anne lifted up her eyes in astonishment, and Eleanor
conjectured that she might as well have held her tongue.
After very little further discourse, it was finally settled that
the invitation should be fully accepted. Missus Jennings received the
information with a great deal of joy and many assurances
of kindness and care. Nor was it a matter of
pleasure merely to her. Sir John was delighted, For to

(04:21:41):
a man whose prevailing anxiety was the dread of being alone,
the acquisition of two to the number of inhabitants in
London was something Even Lady Middleton took the trouble of
being delighted, which was putting herself rather out of the way.
And as for the miss Steeles, especially Lucy, they had
never been so happy in their lives as this in
intelligence made them. Eleanor submitted to the arrangement, which counteracted

(04:22:04):
her wishes, with less reluctance than she had expected to feel.
With regard to herself. It was now a matter of
unconcern whether she went to town or not. And when she
saw her mother so thoroughly pleased with the plan, and
her sister exhilarated by it in look, voice and manner,
restored to all her usual animation, and elevated to more
than her usual gaiety, she could not be dissatisfied with

(04:22:26):
the cause, and would hardly allow herself to distrust the consequence.
Mary Anne's joy was almost a degree beyond happiness, So
great was the perturbation of her spirits and her impatience
to be gone. Her unwillingness to quit her mother was
her only restorative to calmness, and at the moment of parting,
her grief on that score was excessive. Her mother's affliction

(04:22:47):
was hardly less, and Eleanor was the only one of
the three who seemed to consider the separation as anything
short of eternal. Their departure took place in the first
week of January. The Middletons were to follow in about
a week. Miss Steeles kept their station at the park
and were to quit it only with the rest of
the family. End of Chapter twenty five,