Austen Said:

"Remember, Elinor,"

"how very often Sir John fetches our letters himself from the post, and carries them to it. We have already agreed that secrecy may be necessary, and we must acknowledge that it could not be maintained if their correspondence were to pass through Sir John's hands."

"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."

"I would not ask such a question for the world. Supposing it possible that they are not engaged, what distress would not such an enquiry inflict! At any rate it would be most ungenerous. I should never deserve her confidence again, after forcing from her a confession of what is meant at present to be unacknowledged to any one. I know Marianne's heart: I know that she dearly loves me, and that I shall not be the last to whom the affair is made known, when circumstances make the revealment of it eligible. I would not attempt to force the confidence of any one; of a child much less; because a sense of duty would prevent the denial which her wishes might direct."

"We have never finished Hamlet, Marianne; our dear Willoughby went away before we could get through it. We will put it by, that when he comes again...But it may be months, perhaps, before THAT happens."

"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."

"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."

"What are Mrs. Ferrars's views for you at present, Edward?"

"are you still to be a great orator in spite of yourself?"

"But how is your fame to be established? for famous you must be to satisfy all your family; and with no inclination for expense, no affection for strangers, no profession, and no assurance, you may find it a difficult matter."

"You have no ambition, I well know. Your wishes are all moderate."

"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,"