Austen Said:

conceive nothing more ridiculous.

"We may treat it as a joke,"

"but, upon my soul, it is a most serious business. Poor Edward! he is ruined for ever. I am extremely sorry for it — for I know him to be a very good-hearted creature; as well-meaning a fellow perhaps, as any in the world. You must not judge of him, Miss Dashwood, from YOUR slight acquaintance. — Poor Edward! — His manners are certainly not the happiest in nature. — But we are not all born, you know, with the same powers, — the same address. — Poor fellow! — to see him in a circle of strangers! — to be sure it was pitiable enough! — but upon my soul, I believe he has as good a heart as any in the kingdom; and I declare and protest to you I never was so shocked in my life, as when it all burst forth. I could not believe it. — My mother was the first person who told me of it; and I, feeling myself called on to act with resolution, immediately said to her, 'My dear madam, I do not know what you may intend to do on the occasion, but as for myself, I must say, that if Edward does marry this young woman, I never will see him again.' That was what I said immediately. — I was most uncommonly shocked, indeed! — Poor Edward! — he has done for himself completely — shut himself out for ever from all decent society! — but, as I directly said to my mother, I am not in the least surprised at it; from his style of education, it was always to be expected. My poor mother was half frantic."

"Have you ever seen the lady?"

"Yes; once, while she was staying in this house, I happened to drop in for ten minutes; and I saw quite enough of her. The merest awkward country girl, without style, or elegance, and almost without beauty. — I remember her perfectly. Just the kind of girl I should suppose likely to captivate poor Edward. I offered immediately, as soon as my mother related the affair to me, to talk to him myself, and dissuade him from the match; but it was too late THEN, I found, to do any thing, for unluckily, I was not in the way at first, and knew nothing of it till after the breach had taken place, when it was not for me, you know, to interfere. But had I been informed of it a few hours earlier — I think it is most probable — that something might have been hit on. I certainly should have represented it to Edward in a very strong light. 'My dear fellow,' I should have said, 'consider what you are doing. You are making a most disgraceful connection, and such a one as your family are unanimous in disapproving.' I cannot help thinking, in short, that means might have been found. But now it is all too late. He must be starved, you know; — that is certain; absolutely starved."

all her friends seemed determined to send her to Delaford; — a place, in which, of all others, she would now least chuse to visit, or wish to reside;

from their summits Combe Magna might be seen.

perfectly the gentleman in his behaviour to all his visitors, and only occasionally rude to his wife and her mother; she found him very capable of being a pleasant companion, and only prevented from being so always, by too great an aptitude to fancy himself as much superior to people in general, as he must feel himself to be to Mrs. Jennings and Charlotte. For the rest of his character and habits, they were marked, as far as Elinor could perceive, with no traits at all unusual in his sex and time of life. He was nice in his eating, uncertain in his hours; fond of his child, though affecting to slight it; and idled away the mornings at billiards, which ought to have been devoted to business. She liked him, however, upon the whole, much better than she had expected, and in her heart was not sorry that she could like him no more; — not sorry to be driven by the observation of his Epicurism, his selfishness, and his conceit, to rest with complacency on the remembrance of Edward's generous temper, simple taste, and diffident feelings.

she was better,

he should see Marianne no more.

"Is mama coming? — "

"Not yet,"

"but she will be here, I hope, before it is long. It is a great way, you know, from hence to Barton."

"But she must not go round by London,"

"I shall never see her, if she goes by London."

It was lower and quicker than ever!

The comfort of such a friend at that moment as Colonel Brandon — or such a companion for her mother, —

a companion whose judgment would guide, whose attendance must relieve, and whose friendship might soothe her! — as far as the shock of such a summons COULD be lessened to her, his presence, his manners, his assistance, would lessen it.

all relief might soon be in vain, that every thing had been delayed too long,

At ten o'clock,

or at least not much later her mother would be relieved from the dreadful suspense in which she must now be travelling towards them. The Colonel, too! — perhaps scarcely less an object of pity! — Oh! — how slow was the progress of time which yet kept them in ignorance!

"Miss Dashwood, for half an hour — for ten minutes — I entreat you to stay."

"No, sir,"

"I shall NOT stay. Your business cannot be with ME. The servants, I suppose, forgot to tell you that Mr. Palmer was not in the house."

"Had they told me,"

"that Mr. Palmer and all his relations were at the devil, it would not have turned me from the door. My business is with you, and only you."

"With me!" —

"well, sir, — be quick — and if you can — less violent."

"Sit down, and I will be both."

"Pray be quick, sir," —

"I have no time to spare."

"Your sister,"

"is out of danger. I heard it from the servant. God be praised! — But is it true? is it really true?"

"For God's sake tell me, is she out of danger, or is she not?"

"We hope she is."

"Had I known as much half an hour ago — But since I AM here," —

"what does it signify? — For once, Miss Dashwood — it will be the last time, perhaps — let us be cheerful together. — I am in a fine mood for gaiety. — Tell me honestly" —

"do you think me most a knave or a fool?"

he must be in liquor;

"Mr. Willoughby, I advise you at present to return to Combe — I am not at leisure to remain with you longer. — Whatever your business may be with me, will it be better recollected and explained to-morrow."

"I understand you,"

"yes, I am very drunk. — A pint of porter with my cold beef at Marlborough was enough to over-set me."

"At Marlborough!" —

"Yes, — I left London this morning at eight o'clock, and the only ten minutes I have spent out of my chaise since that time procured me a nuncheon at Marlborough."

"Mr. Willoughby, you OUGHT to feel, and I certainly DO — that after what has passed — your coming here in this manner, and forcing yourself upon my notice, requires a very particular excuse. — What is it, that you mean by it?"—

"I mean,"—

"if I can, to make you hate me one degree less than you do NOW. I mean to offer some kind of explanation, some kind of apology, for the past; to open my whole heart to you, and by convincing you, that though I have been always a blockhead, I have not been always a rascal, to obtain something like forgiveness from Ma — from your sister."

"Is this the real reason of your coming?"

"Upon my soul it is," —

"If that is all, you may be satisfied already, — for Marianne DOES — she has LONG forgiven you."