Sense and Sensibility

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"What 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 perfectly cordial, 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 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 the

dependent situation which forbade 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 aggrandizement. 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 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 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.