CHAPTER IV

hat a pity it is, Elinor," said Marianne, "that

Edward should have no taste for drawing."

"No taste for drawing!" replied Elinor, "why

should you think so? He does not draw himself, indeed, but he has

great 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 has an

innate propriety and simplicity of taste, which in general direct

him perfectly right."

Marianne was afraid of offending, and said no more on the

subject; but the kind of approbation which Elinor 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, though smiling within herself at the mistake, she

honoured her sister for that blind partiality to Edward which

produced it.

"I hope, Marianne," continued Elinor, "you do not consider him

as deficient in general taste. Indeed, I think I may say that you

cannot, for your behaviour to him is perfectlycordial, and if that

were your opinion, I am sure you could never be civil to him."

Marianne 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, Elinor, if my praise of him is not in every

thing equal to your sense of his merits. I have not had so many

opportunities of estimating the minuter propensities of his mind,

his inclinations and tastes, as you have; but I have the highest

opinion in the world of his goodness and sense. I think him every

thing that is worthy and amiable."

"I am sure," replied Elinor, with a smile, "that his dearest

friends could not be dissatisfied with such commendation as that. I

do not perceive how you could express yourself more warmly."

Marianne was rejoiced to find her sister so easily pleased.

"Of his sense and his goodness," continued Elinor, "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 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 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 lively, his observation just and

correct, and his taste delicate and pure. His abilities in every

respect improve as much upon acquaintance as 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,

Marianne?"

"I shall very soon think him handsome, Elinor, 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."

Elinor started at this declaration, and was sorry for the warmth

she had been betrayed into, in speaking of him. She felt that

Edward stood very high in her opinion. She believed the regard to

be mutual; but she required greater certainty of it to make

Marianne's conviction of their attachment agreeable to her. She

knew that what Marianne 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 attempt to deny," said she, "that I think very highly of

him―that I greatly esteem, that I like him."

Marianne here burst forth with indignation―

"Esteem him! Like him! Cold-hearted Elinor! Oh! worse than

cold-hearted! Ashamed of being otherwise. Use those words again,

and I will leave the room this moment."

Elinor could not help laughing. "Excuse me," said she, "and be

assured that I meant no offence 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 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. 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 to marry a woman who had not

either a great fortune or high rank."

Marianne 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 two advantages will proceed from

this delay. I shall not lose you so soon, and Edward will have

greater opportunity of improving that natural taste for your

favourite pursuit which must be so indispensably necessary to

your future felicity. Oh! if he should be so far stimulated by your

genius as to learn to draw himself, how delightful it would be!"

Elinor had given her real opinion to her sister. She could not

consider her partiality for Edward in so prosperous a state as

Marianne had believed it. There was, at times, a want of spirits

about him which, if it did not denoteindifference, spoke a

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 the dependent situation which forbad the indulgence of his

affection. She knew that his mother neither behaved to him so as

to make his home comfortable at present, nor to give him any

assurance that he might form a home for himself, without strictly

attending to her views for his aggrandisement. With such a

knowledge as this, it was impossible for Elinor to feel easy on the

subject. She was far 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, 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 Mrs. Ferrars's resolution that both her sons should marry well,

and of the danger attending any young woman who attempted to

draw him in; that Mrs. Dashwood could neither pretend to be

unconscious, nor endeavour 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 Elinor should not be exposed

another week to such insinuations.

In this state of 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. 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, whether Barton Cottage, for 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

behaviour of her nearer connections. She needed no time for

deliberation 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 neighbourhood of Norland was no longer an evil; it 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 for ever

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

acceptance of his proposal; and then hastened to shew both letters

to her daughters, that she might be secure of their approbation

before her answer were sent.

Elinor 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, 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.
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