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was hastening to meet him, when Elinor cried out,

      “Indeed, Marianne, I think you are mistaken. It is not Willoughby. The person is not tall enough.”

      “It is he,” cried Marianne, “I am sure he has. His coat, his horse. I know that!”

      They walked and were soon within thirty yards of the gentleman. Marianne looked again, and welcomed Edward Ferrars.

      He dismounted, and giving his horse to his servant, walked back with them to Barton.

      He was welcomed by them all with great cordiality, but especially by Marianne, who showed more warmth than even Elinor herself. After a short silence which succeeded the first surprise and enquiries of meeting, Marianne asked Edward if he came directly from London. No, he had been in Devonshire a fortnight.

      “A fortnight!” she repeated, surprised.

      He looked rather distressed as he added, that he was staying with some friends near Plymouth.

      Elinor talked of their present residence, its conveniences and so on. His coldness and reserve mortified her severely; she was vexed and half angry.

      Chapter XVII

      Mrs. Dashwood was surprised only for a moment. Edward’s arrival was, in her opinion, of all things the most natural.

      “What are Mrs. Ferrars’s views for you at present, Edward?” said she, when dinner was over; “are you still going to be a great orator?”

      “No. I hope my mother is now convinced that I have no talents for a public life!”

      “But how will your fame be established? How will you become famous? You may find it a difficult matter.”

      “I shall not attempt it. I have no wish to be distinguished; and have every reason to hope I never shall. Thank Heaven!”

      “You have no ambition, I know. Your wishes are all moderate.”

      “As moderate as those of the rest of the world, I believe. I wish as well as everybody else to be happy; but, like everybody else it must be in my own way. Greatness will not make me so.”

      “Yes!” cried Marianne. “What have wealth or grandeur to do with happiness?”

      “Grandeur has nothing,” said Elinor, “but wealth has much to do with it.”

      “Elinor!” said Marianne, “money can only give happiness where there is nothing else to give it.”

      “Marianne has no shyness at all,” said Elinor.

      “Shyness is only the effect of a sense of inferiority,” replied Edward.

      “And you are reserved,” said Marianne, “and that is worse.”

      “Reserved! Am I reserved, Marianne?” Edward asked.

      “Yes, very.”

      “I do not understand you,” replied he. “Reserved! How, in what manner? What must I tell you? What can you suppose?”

      Elinor looked surprised at his emotion; but trying to laugh, she said to him,

      “Do not you know my sister well enough to understand what she means? Do not you know she calls everyone reserved who does not talk as fast, and admire what she admires as rapturously as herself?”

      Edward made no answer. His gravity and thoughtfulness returned on him, and he sat for some time silent and dull.

      Chapter XVIII

      Elinor saw, with great uneasiness the low spirits of her friend. It was evident that he was unhappy.

      He joined her and Marianne in the breakfast-room the next morning before the others were down. Marianne soon left them to themselves. But after few steps she heard the parlour door open, and, turning round, was astonished to see Edward himself come out.

      “I am going into the village to see my horses,” said he, “as you are not yet ready for breakfast; I shall be back again presently.”

      Edward returned to them with fresh admiration of the surrounding country; in his walk to the village, he had seen many parts of the valley. Marianne began to describe her own admiration of these parts, and to question him, when Edward interrupted her,

      “You must not enquire, Marianne. I shall offend you by my ignorance. I shall call hills steep, not bold; surfaces strange and uncouth, not irregular and rugged. I know nothing of the picturesque.”

      “I am afraid it is true,” said Marianne; “but why do you boast of it?”

      “I suspect,” said Elinor, “that to avoid one kind of affectation, Edward here falls into another.”

      “I am convinced,” said Edward, “that you really feel all the delight. But your sister must allow me to feel no more than I profess. I do not like crooked, twisted, blasted trees. I admire them much more if they are tall, straight, and flourishing. I do not like ruined, tattered cottages. I am not fond of nettles or thistles, or heath blossoms. I have more pleasure in a snug farm-house than a watch-tower. Happy villagers please me better than the finest banditti in the world.”

      Marianne looked with amazement at Edward, with compassion at her sister. Elinor only laughed.

      Marianne remained thoughtfully silent, till a new object suddenly engaged her attention. She was sitting by Edward, and his hand passed so directly before her. She saw a ring, with a plait of hair in the centre.

      “I never saw you wear a ring before, Edward,” she cried. “Is that Fanny’s hair? But I think her hair is darker.”

      Edward coloured very deeply, and giving a momentary glance at Elinor, replied,

      “Yes; it is my sister’s hair.”

      Elinor met his eye, and thought that the hair was her own. But where and how did he get it?

      Edward’s embarrassment lasted some time. He was particularly grave the whole morning.

      Before the middle of the day, Sir John and Mrs. Jennings visited them. With the assistance of his mother-in-law, Sir John was not long in discovering that the name of Ferrars began with an F, preparing ground for future jokes.

      Sir John never came to the Dashwoods without either inviting them to dine at the park the next day, or to drink tea with them that evening.

      “You must drink tea with us tonight,” said he, “we shall be quite alone – and tomorrow you must absolutely dine with us, we shall be a large party.”

      “And after that – a dance,” said Mrs. Jennings. “And that will tempt you, Miss Marianne.”

      “A dance!” cried Marianne. “Impossible! Who will dance?”

      “Who! Yourselves, and the Careys, and Whitakers.”

      Chapter XIX

      Edward remained a week at the cottage. His spirits, during the last two or three days, were greatly improved. He valued their kindness beyond anything, and his greatest happiness was there. He had no pleasure at Norland; he detested towns; but either to Norland or London, he must go. Yet, he must leave them at the end of a week, in spite of their wishes and his own. Elinor was disappointed, however, and vexed, and sometimes displeased with his uncertain behaviour to herself.

      “I think, Edward,” said Mrs. Dashwood, as they were at breakfast the last morning, “you will be a happier man if you have any profession to engage your time and give an interest to your plans and actions.”

      “I assure you,” he replied, “that I have long thought on this point, as you think now. It has been, and is, and probably will always be a heavy misfortune to me, that I have had no necessary business to engage me, no profession to give me employment. We never agreed in our choice of a profession. I always preferred the church, as I still do. But that was not smart enough for my family. They recommended the army. I have been idle since my Oxford studies.”

      Elinor sat down to her drawing-table as soon as he was out of the house, busily employed herself the whole day. Elinor

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