Austen Said:

"As to that,"

"I must rub through the world as well as I can. Domestic happiness is out of the question. If, however, I am allowed to think that you and yours feel an interest in my fate and actions, it may be the means — it may put me on my guard — at least, it may be something to live for. Marianne to be sure is lost to me for ever. Were I even by any blessed chance at liberty again — "

"Well," —

"once more good bye. I shall now go away and live in dread of one event."

"Your sister's marriage."

"But she will be gained by some one else. And if that some one should be the very he whom, of all others, I could least bear — but I will not stay to rob myself of all your compassionate goodwill, by shewing that where I have most injured I can least forgive. Good bye, — God bless you!"

"We know nothing of our unfortunate Edward, and can make no enquiries on so prohibited a subject, but conclude him to be still at Oxford;"

"I suppose you know, ma'am, that Mr. Ferrars is married."

"I see Mr. Ferrars myself, ma'am, this morning in Exeter, and his lady too, Miss Steele as was. They was stopping in a chaise at the door of the New London Inn, as I went there with a message from Sally at the Park to her brother, who is one of the post-boys. I happened to look up as I went by the chaise, and so I see directly it was the youngest Miss Steele; so I took off my hat, and she knew me and called to me, and inquired after you, ma'am, and the young ladies, especially Miss Marianne, and

bid me

"Yes, ma'am. She smiled, and

said

She was always a very affable and free-spoken young lady, and very civil behaved. So, I made free to wish her joy."

"Yes, ma'am, I just see him leaning back in it, but he did not look up; — he never was a gentleman much for talking."

"No, ma'am, only they two."

as Miss Lucy — Mrs. Ferrars told me."

"Yes, ma'am — but not to bide long. They will soon be back again, and then they'd be sure and call here."

"No, ma'am — the horses were just coming out, but I could not bide any longer; I was afraid of being late."

"Yes, ma'am,

she said how

and to my mind she was always a very handsome young lady — and she seemed vastly contented."

"He comes from Mr. Pratt's purposely to see us. I WILL be calm; I WILL be mistress of myself."

"At Longstaple!"

"No, my mother is in town."

"Perhaps you mean — my brother — you mean Mrs. — Mrs. ROBERT Ferrars."

"Perhaps you do not know — you may not have heard that my brother is lately married to — to the youngest — to Miss Lucy Steele."

"Yes,"

"they were married last week, and are now at Dawlish."

"It was a foolish, idle inclination on my side,"

"the consequence of ignorance of the world — and want of employment. Had my brother given me some active profession when I was removed at eighteen from the care of Mr. Pratt, I think — nay, I am sure, it would never have happened; for though I left Longstaple with what I thought, at the time, a most unconquerable preference for his niece, yet had I then had any pursuit, any object to engage my time and keep me at a distance from her for a few months, I should very soon have outgrown the fancied attachment, especially by mixing more with the world, as in such case I must have done. But instead of having any thing to do, instead of having any profession chosen for me, or being allowed to chuse any myself, I returned home to be completely idle; and for the first twelvemonth afterwards I had not even the nominal employment, which belonging to the university would have given me; for I was not entered at Oxford till I was nineteen. I had therefore nothing in the world to do, but to fancy myself in love; and as my mother did not make my home in every respect comfortable, as I had no friend, no companion in my brother, and disliked new acquaintance, it was not unnatural for me to be very often at Longstaple, where I always felt myself at home, and was always sure of a welcome; and accordingly I spent the greatest part of my time there from eighteen to nineteen: Lucy appeared everything that was amiable and obliging. She was pretty too — at least I thought so THEN; and I had seen so little of other women, that I could make no comparisons, and see no defects. Considering everything, therefore, I hope, foolish as our engagement was, foolish as it has since in every way been proved, it was not at the time an unnatural or an inexcusable piece of folly."

perhaps, at first accidentally meeting, the vanity of the one had been so worked on by the flattery of the other, as to lead by degrees to all the rest.

"THAT was exactly like Robert," —

"And THAT,"

"might perhaps be in HIS head when the acquaintance between them first began. And Lucy perhaps at first might think only of procuring his good offices in my favour. Other designs might afterward arise."

"I will not ask your opinion of it as a composition,"

"For worlds would not I have had a letter of hers seen by YOU in former days. — In a sister it is bad enough, but in a wife! — how I have blushed over the pages of her writing! — and I believe I may say that since the first half year of our foolish — business — this is the only letter I ever received from her, of which the substance made me any amends for the defect of the style."

"She will be more hurt by it, for Robert always was her favourite. — She will be more hurt by it, and on the same principle will forgive him much sooner."

a well-disposed, good-hearted girl, and thoroughly attached to himself.

"I thought it my duty,"

"independent of my feelings, to give her the option of continuing the engagement or not, when I was renounced by my mother, and stood to all appearance without a friend in the world to assist me. In such a situation as that, where there seemed nothing to tempt the avarice or the vanity of any living creature, how could I suppose, when she so earnestly, so warmly insisted on sharing my fate, whatever it might be, that any thing but the most disinterested affection was her inducement? And even now, I cannot comprehend on what motive she acted, or what fancied advantage it could be to her, to be fettered to a man for whom she had not the smallest regard, and who had only two thousand pounds in the world. She could not foresee that Colonel Brandon would give me a living."

"I was simple enough to think, that because my FAITH was plighted to another, there could be no danger in my being with you; and that the consciousness of my engagement was to keep my heart as safe and sacred as my honour. I felt that I admired you, but I told myself it was only friendship; and till I began to make comparisons between yourself and Lucy, I did not know how far I was got. After that, I suppose, I WAS wrong in remaining so much in Sussex, and the arguments with which I reconciled myself to the expediency of it, were no better than these: — The danger is my own; I am doing no injury to anybody but myself."

not only to be better acquainted with him, but to have an opportunity of convincing him that he no longer resented his giving him the living of Delaford —

"Which, at present,"

"after thanks so ungraciously delivered as mine were on the occasion, he must think I have never forgiven him for offering."

Mrs. Ferrars was the most unfortunate of women — poor Fanny had suffered agonies of sensibility —

Robert's offence was unpardonable, but Lucy's was infinitely worse. Neither of them were ever again to be mentioned to Mrs. Ferrars; and even, if she might hereafter be induced to forgive her son, his wife should never be acknowledged as her daughter, nor be permitted to appear in her presence. The secrecy with which everything had been carried on between them, was rationally treated as enormously heightening the crime, because, had any suspicion of it occurred to the others, proper measures would have been taken to prevent the marriage;

join with him in regretting that Lucy's engagement with Edward had not rather been fulfilled, than that she should thus be the means of spreading misery farther in the family. —

"Mrs. Ferrars has never yet mentioned Edward's name, which does not surprise us; but, to our great astonishment, not a line has been received from him on the occasion. Perhaps, however, he is kept silent by his fear of offending, and I shall, therefore, give him a hint, by a line to Oxford, that his sister and I both think a letter of proper submission from him, addressed perhaps to Fanny, and by her shewn to her mother, might not be taken amiss; for we all know the tenderness of Mrs. Ferrars's heart, and that she wishes for nothing so much as to be on good terms with her children."

"A letter of proper submission!"

"would they have me beg my mother's pardon for Robert's ingratitude to HER, and breach of honour to ME? — I can make no submission — I am grown neither humble nor penitent by what has passed. — I am grown very happy; but that would not interest. — I know of no submission that IS proper for me to make."