Austen Said:

"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."

"I hope not, I believe not,"

"I love Willoughby, sincerely love him; and suspicion of his integrity cannot be more painful to yourself than to me. It has been involuntary, 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, from a fear of offending Mrs. 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 his honour I think, as well as more consistent with his general character; — but I will not raise objections against any one's conduct on so illiberal a foundation, as a difference in judgment from myself, or a deviation from what I may think right and consistent."

"Why do you not ask Marianne at once,"

"whether she is or she is not engaged to Willoughby? From you, her mother, and so kind, so indulgent a mother, the question could not give offence. It would be the natural result of your affection for her. She used to be all unreserve, and to you more especially."

"Months!"

"No — nor many weeks."

"It is he; it is indeed; — I know it is!"—

"Indeed, Marianne, 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,"

"I am sure he has. His air, his coat, his horse. I knew how soon he would come."

if he came directly from London.

"A fortnight!"

"Have you been lately in Sussex?"

"And how does dear, dear Norland look?"

"Dear, dear Norland,"

"probably looks much as it always does at this time of the year. The woods and walks thickly covered with dead leaves."

"Oh,"

"with what transporting sensation have I formerly seen them fall! How have I delighted, as I walked, 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 hastily off, and driven as much as possible from the sight."

"It is not every one,"

"who has your passion for dead leaves."

"No; my feelings are not often shared, not often understood. But SOMETIMES they are."

"Now, Edward,"

"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."

"How can you think of dirt, with such objects before you?"

"How strange!"

"No, not all,"

"we could not be more unfortunately situated."

"Marianne,"

"how can you say so? How can you be so unjust? They are a very respectable family, Mr. Ferrars; and towards us have behaved in the friendliest manner. Have you forgot, Marianne, how many pleasant days we have owed to them?"

"No,"

"nor how many painful moments."

"Strange that it would!"

"What have wealth or grandeur to do with happiness?"

"Grandeur has but little,"

"but wealth has much to do with it."

"Elinor, for shame!"

"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,"

"we may come to the same point. YOUR competence and MY wealth are very 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."

"TWO thousand a year! ONE is my wealth! I guessed how it would end."

"And yet two thousand a-year is a very moderate income,"

"A family cannot well be maintained on a 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."

"But most people do."

"I wish,"

"that somebody would give us all a large fortune apiece!"

"Oh that they would!"

"We are all unanimous in that wish, I suppose,"

"in spite of the insufficiency of wealth."