Austen Said:

"You are very much mistaken. I do assure you that you owe it entirely, at least almost entirely, to your own merit, and Colonel Brandon's discernment of it. I have had no hand in it. I did not even know, till I understood his design, that the living was vacant; nor had it ever occurred to me that he might have had such a living in his gift. As a friend of mine, of my family, he may, perhaps — indeed I know he HAS, still greater pleasure in bestowing it; but, upon my word, you owe nothing to my solicitation."

"Indeed,"

"I believe that you will find him, on farther acquaintance, all that you have heard him to be, and as you will be such very near neighbours (for I understand the parsonage is almost close to the mansion-house,) it is particularly important that he SHOULD be all this."

"When I see him again,"

"I shall see him the husband of Lucy."

"No, ma'am; THAT was not very likely."

"Really,"

"I know so little of these kind of forms, that I can hardly even conjecture as to the time, or the preparation necessary; but I suppose two or three months will complete his ordination."

"My dear ma'am,"

"what can you be thinking of? — Why, Colonel Brandon's only object is to be of use to Mr. Ferrars."

"But Colonel Brandon does not seem to have any idea of the living's being enough to allow them to marry."

"It is perfectly true. — Colonel Brandon has given the living of Delaford to Edward."

"About two hundred a year."

"A very simple one — to be of use to Mr. Ferrars."

"But why should such precaution be used? — Though it is not to be supposed that Mrs. Ferrars can have the smallest satisfaction in knowing that her son has money enough to live upon, — for THAT must be quite out of the question; yet why, upon her late behaviour, is she supposed to feel at all? — She has done with her son, she cast him off for ever, and has made all those over whom she had any influence, cast him off likewise. Surely, after doing so, she cannot be imagined liable to any impression of sorrow or of joy on his account — she cannot be interested in any thing that befalls him. — She would not be so weak as to throw away the comfort of a child, and yet retain the anxiety of a parent!"

"You surprise me; I should think it must nearly have escaped her memory by THIS time."

"The lady, I suppose, has no choice in the affair."

"I only mean that I suppose, from your manner of speaking, it must be the same to Miss Morton whether she marry Edward or Robert."

"Have you ever seen the lady?"

"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."

"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."

"With me!" —

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

"Pray be quick, sir," —

"I have no time to spare."

"We hope she is."

"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."

"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?"—

"Is this the real reason of your coming?"

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

"It is hardly worth while, Mr. Willoughby, for you to relate, or for me to listen any longer. Such a beginning as this cannot be followed by any thing. — Do not let me be pained by hearing any thing more on the subject."

"You did then,"

"believe yourself at one time attached to her?"

"I have,"

"I have heard it all. And how you will explain away any part of your guilt in that dreadful business, I confess is beyond my comprehension."

"Your indifference, however, towards that unfortunate girl — I must say it, unpleasant to me as the discussion of such a subject may well be — your indifference is no apology for your cruel neglect of her. Do not think yourself excused by any weakness, any natural defect of understanding on her side, in the wanton cruelty so evident on yours. You must have known, that while you were enjoying yourself in Devonshire pursuing fresh schemes, always gay, always happy, she was reduced to the extremest indigence."

"Well, sir, and what said Mrs. Smith?"

"Why did you call, Mr. Willoughby?"

"a note would have answered every purpose. — Why was it necessary to call?"

"Did you tell her that you should soon return?"

"Well, sir,"

"and this is all?"

"Yes, I saw every note that passed."

"This is not right, Mr. Willoughby. — Remember that you are married. Relate only what in your conscience you think necessary for me to hear."