LITMIR.BIZ

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window of the cottage to seek the exquisite enjoyment of air on their summits, were a happy alternative. Towards one of these hills Marianne and Margaret one memorable morning directed their steps, attracted by the partial sunshine of a showery sky.

      They gaily ascended the downs; and when they caught in their faces the gales of a high south-westerly wind, they pitied the fears which had prevented their mother and Elinor from sharing such delightful sensations.

      “Is there a felicity in the world,” said Marianne, “superior to this? – Margaret, we will walk here at least two hours.”

      Margaret agreed, and they pursued their way against the wind, when suddenly the clouds united over their heads, and a driving rain set full in their face. Dissapointed and surprised, they were obliged to turn back, for no shelter was nearer than their own house.

      They began to run. A false step brought Marianne suddenly to the ground; and Margaret, unable to stop herself to assist her, reached the bottom in safety.

      A gentleman carrying a gun, with two pointers playing round him, was passing up the hill and within a few yards of Marianne, when her accident happened. He put down his gun and ran to her assistance. She had raised herself from the ground, but she was scarcely able to stand. The gentleman offered his services; and took her up in his arms without farther delay, and carried her down the hill. Then he bore her directly into the house, and seated her in a chair in the parlour. Elinor and her mother rose up in amazement at their entrance. While the eyes of both were fixed on him with an evident wonder and a secret admiration, he apologized for his intrusion, in a manner so frank and so graceful that his person received additional charms from his voice and expression. The influence of youth, beauty, and elegance gave an interest to the action which Mrs. Dashwood saw.

      She thanked him again and again; and invited him to be seated. But this he declined, as he was dirty and wet. Mrs. Dashwood then begged to know to whom she was obliged. His name, he replied, was Willoughby, and his present home was at Allenham. He hopes she will allow him to visit Miss Dashwood tomorrow. The honour was readily granted, and he then departed, to make himself still more interesting, in the midst of a heavy rain.

      His manly beauty and gracefulness were instantly the theme of general admiration. He was a real hero in Marianne’s eyes. His name was good, his residence was in their favourite village, and she soon found out that of all manly dresses a shooting-jacket was the most becoming.

      Sir John called on them[6] soon. Marianne’s accident was related to him, and he was asked whether he knew any gentleman of the name of Willoughby at Allenham.

      “Willoughby!” cried Sir John; “That is good news; I will ride over tomorrow, and ask him to dinner on Thursday.”

      “You know him then,” said Mrs. Dashwood.

      “Know him! to be sure I do. He domes here every year.”

      “And what sort of a young man is he?”

      “A very good fellow, I assure you. An excellent hunter, and the best rider in England.”

      “And is that all you can say?” cried Marianne, indignantly. “What are his manners? What are his pursuits, his talents, and genius?”

      Sir John was rather puzzled.

      “You know,” said he, “I do not know much about him. But he is a pleasant, good-humoured fellow, and has got the nicest pointer I ever saw. Was it with him?”

      But Marianne could no tell about Mr. Willoughby’s pointer.

      “But who is he?” said Elinor. “Where does he come from? Has he a house at Allenham?”

      Sir John told them that Mr. Willoughby had no property of his own in the country. He resided there only while he was visiting the old lady at Allenham Court, to whom he was related, and whose possessions he was to inherit; adding,

      “Yes, yes, he is very well worth catching[7] I can tell you, Miss Dashwood. He has a pretty little estate of his own in Somersetshire besides. Miss Marianne must not expect to have all the men to herself. Brandon will be jealous, if she does not take care[8].”

      “I do not believe,” said Mrs. Dashwood, with a smile, “that my daughters will try to catch Mr. Willoughby. Men are very safe with us, let them be ever so rich. I am glad to find, however, from what you say, that he is a respectable young man, and one whose acquaintance will not be ineligible.”

      “He is a good fellow, I believe,” repeated Sir John. “I remember last Christmas he danced from eight o’clock till four.”

      “Did he indeed?” cried Marianne with sparkling eyes, “and with elegance, with spirit?”

      “Yes; and he was up again at eight to go hunting.”

      “That is what I like; that is what a young man ought to be!”

      “I see,” said Sir John, “You are interested in him now, and you will never think of poor Brandon.”

      “That is an expression, Sir John,” said Marianne, warmly, “which I particularly dislike. It is gross and illiberal.”

      Sir John laughed heartily, and then replied,

      “Poor Brandon! He is in love already, and he is very well worth catching, too, I can tell you.”

      Chapter X

      Marianne’s preserver, as Margaret named Willoughby, called at the cottage early the next morning to make his personal enquiries. He was received by Mrs. Dashwood with politeness. Everything during the visit tended to assure him of the sense, elegance, mutual affection, and domestic comfort of the family to whom accident had now introduced him.

      Miss Dashwood had a delicate complexion, regular features, and a remarkably pretty figure. Marianne was still handsomer. Her form was more striking; and her face was lovely. Her skin was very brown, but her complexion was uncommonly brilliant. Her features were all good; her smile was sweet and attractive; and in her eyes, which were very dark, there was a life, a spirit, an eagerness.

      It was only necessary to mention any favourite amusement to engage her to talk. She could not be silent, and she had neither shyness nor reserve. They speedily discovered that their enjoyment of dancing and music was mutual. She proceeded to question him on the subject of books. Their taste was strikingly alike. The same books, the same passages were idolized by each.

      “Well, Marianne,” said Elinor, as soon as he had left them, “for one morning I think you have done pretty well. You have already ascertained Mr. Willoughby’s opinion in almost everything. You know what he thinks of Cowper and Scott. But you will soon have exhausted each favourite topic. Another meeting will suffice to explain his sentiments, and then you can have nothing farther to ask.”

      “Elinor,” cried Marianne, “are my ideas so scanty? But I see what you mean. I have been too happy, too frank. I have been open and sincere where I ought to be reserved, spiritless, dull, and deceitful.”

      “My love,” said her mother, “you must not be offended with Elinor – she was only in jest[9].”

      Marianne was softened in a moment.

      Willoughby, on his side, came to them every day. To enquire after Marianne was at first his excuse, but the encouragement of his reception made such an excuse unnecessary. Willoughby was a young man of good abilities, quick imagination, lively spirits, and open, affectionate manners. He was exactly formed to engage Marianne’s heart.

      His society became gradually her most exquisite enjoyment. They read, they talked, they sang together; his musical talents were considerable; and he read with the sensibility and spirit.

      In Mrs. Dashwood’s estimation he was as faultless as in Marianne’s; and Elinor saw nothing to censure in him.

      Her mother expected their marriage; and secretly congratulated herself on two such sons-in-law as Edward and Willoughby.

      Colonel

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