CHAPTER 36

     Within a few days after this meeting, the newspapers

announced to the world, that the lady of Thomas Palmer,

Esq. was safely delivered of a son and heir; a very

interesting and satisfactory paragraph, at least to all

those intimate connections who knew it before.
 
 

     This event, highly important to Mrs. Jennings's happiness,

produced a temporary alteration in the disposal of her time,

and influenced, in a like degree, the engagements

of her young friends; for as she wished to be as much

as possible with Charlotte, she went thither every morning

as soon as she was dressed, and did not return till late

in the evening; and the Miss Dashwoods, at the particular

request of the Middletons, spent the whole of every day,

in every day in Conduit Street.  For their own comfort

they would much rather have remained, at least all

the morning, in Mrs. Jennings's house; but it was not

a thing to be urged against the wishes of everybody.

Their hours were therefore made over to Lady Middleton

and the two Miss Steeles, by whom their company, in fact

was as little valued, as it was professedly sought.
 
 

     They had too much sense to be desirable companions

to the former; and by the latter they were considered with

a jealous eye, as intruding on THEIR ground, and sharing

the kindness which they wanted to monopolize.  Though nothing

could be more polite than Lady Middleton's behaviour to

Elinor and Marianne, she did not really like them at all.

Because they neither flattered herself nor her children,

she could not believe them good-natured; and because they

were fond of reading, she fancied them satirical: perhaps

without exactly knowing what it was to be satirical;

but THAT did not signify.  It was censure in common use,

and easily given.
 
 

     Their presence was a restraint both on her and on Lucy.

It checked the idleness of one, and the business of the other.

Lady Middleton was ashamed of doing nothing before them,

and the flattery which Lucy was proud to think of

and administer at other times, she feared they would despise

her for offering.  Miss Steele was the least discomposed

of the three, by their presence; and it was in their power

to reconcile her to it entirely.  Would either of them

only have given her a full and minute account of the whole

affair between Marianne and Mr. Willoughby, she would

have thought herself amply rewarded for the sacrifice

of the best place by the fire after dinner, which their

arrival occasioned.  But this conciliation was not granted;

for though she often threw out expressions of pity for her

sister to Elinor, and more than once dropt a reflection

on the inconstancy of beaux before Marianne, no effect

was produced, but a look of indifference from the former,

or of disgust in the latter.  An effort even yet lighter

might have made her their friend.  Would they only have

laughed at her about the Doctor!  But so little were they,

anymore than the others, inclined to oblige her,

that if Sir John dined from home, she might spend a whole

day without hearing any other raillery on the subject,

than what she was kind enough to bestow on herself.
 
 

     All these jealousies and discontents, however, were so

totally unsuspected by Mrs. Jennings, that she thought

it a delightful thing for the girls to be together;

and generally congratulated her young friends every night,

on having escaped the company of a stupid old woman so long.

She joined them sometimes at Sir John's, sometimes

at her own house; but wherever it was, she always came

in excellent spirits, full of delight and importance,

attributing Charlotte's well doing to her own care, and ready

to give so exact, so minute a detail of her situation,

as only Miss Steele had curiosity enough to desire.

One thing DID disturb her; and of that she made her

daily complaint.  Mr. Palmer maintained the common,

but unfatherly opinion among his sex, of all infants being alike;

and though she could plainly perceive, at different times,

the most striking resemblance between this baby and every

one of his relations on both sides, there was no convincing

his father of it; no persuading him to believe that it

was not exactly like every other baby of the same age;

nor could he even be brought to acknowledge the simple

proposition of its being the finest child in the world.
 
 

     I come now to the relation of a misfortune,

which about this time befell Mrs. John Dashwood.

It so happened that while her two sisters with

Mrs. Jennings were first calling on her in Harley Street,

another of her acquaintance had dropt in--a circumstance

in itself not apparently likely to produce evil to her.

But while the imaginations of other people will carry

them away to form wrong judgments of our conduct,

and to decide on it by slight appearances, one's happiness

must in some measure be always at the mercy of chance.

In the present instance, this last-arrived lady allowed

her fancy to so far outrun truth and probability,

that on merely hearing the name of the Miss Dashwoods,

and understanding them to be Mr. Dashwood's sisters,

she immediately concluded them to be staying in Harley Street;

and this misconstruction produced within a day

or two afterwards, cards of invitation for them

as well as for their brother and sister, to a small

musical party at her house.  The consequence of which was,

that Mrs. John Dashwood was obliged to submit not only

to the exceedingly great inconvenience of sending her

carriage for the Miss Dashwoods, but, what was still worse,

must be subject to all the unpleasantness of appearing

to treat them with attention: and who could tell that they

might not expect to go out with her a second time?  The power

of disappointing them, it was true, must always be her's.

But that was not enough; for when people are determined

on a mode of conduct which they know to be wrong, they feel

injured by the expectation of any thing better from them.
 
 

     Marianne had now been brought by degrees, so much

into the habit of going out every day, that it was become

a matter of indifference to her, whether she went or not:

and she prepared quietly and mechanically for every

evening's engagement, though without expecting the smallest

amusement from any, and very often without knowing,

till the last moment, where it was to take her.
 
 

     To her dress and appearance she was grown so perfectly

indifferent, as not to bestow half the consideration on it,

during the whole of her toilet, which it received from

Miss Steele in the first five minutes of their being

together, when it was finished.  Nothing escaped HER minute

observation and general curiosity; she saw every thing,

and asked every thing; was never easy till she knew the price

of every part of Marianne's dress; could have guessed the

number of her gowns altogether with better judgment than

Marianne herself, and was not without hopes of finding out

before they parted, how much her washing cost per week,

and how much she had every year to spend upon herself.

The impertinence of these kind of scrutinies, moreover,

was generally concluded with a compliment, which

though meant as its douceur, was considered by Marianne

as the greatest impertinence of all; for after undergoing

an examination into the value and make of her gown,

the colour of her shoes, and the arrangement of her hair,

she was almost sure of being told that upon "her word

she looked vastly smart, and she dared to say she would

make a great many conquests."
 
 

     With such encouragement as this, was she dismissed

on the present occasion, to her brother's carriage;

which they were ready to enter five minutes after it

stopped at the door, a punctuality not very agreeable

to their sister-in-law, who had preceded them to the house

of her acquaintance, and was there hoping for some delay

on their part that might inconvenience either herself

or her coachman.
 
 

     The events of this evening were not very remarkable.

The party, like other musical parties, comprehended a

great many people who had real taste for the performance,

and a great many more who had none at all; and the performers

themselves were, as usual, in their own estimation,

and that of their immediate friends, the first private

performers in England.
 
 

     As Elinor was neither musical, nor affecting to be so,

she made no scruple of turning her eyes from the grand

pianoforte, whenever it suited her, and unrestrained even

by the presence of a harp, and violoncello, would fix

them at pleasure on any other object in the room.  In one

of these excursive glances she perceived among a group

of young men, the very he, who had given them a lecture

on toothpick-cases at Gray's.  She perceived him soon

afterwards looking at herself, and speaking familiarly

to her brother; and had just determined to find out his

name from the latter, when they both came towards her,

and Mr. Dashwood introduced him to her as Mr. Robert Ferrars.
 
 

     He addressed her with easy civility, and twisted

his head into a bow which assured her as plainly as

words could have done, that he was exactly the coxcomb

she had heard him described to be by Lucy.  Happy had

it been for her, if her regard for Edward had depended

less on his own merit, than on the merit of his nearest

relations!  For then his brother's bow must have given

the finishing stroke to what the ill-humour of his mother

and sister would have begun.  But while she wondered

at the difference of the two young men, she did not find

that the emptiness of conceit of the one, put her out

of all charity with the modesty and worth of the other.

Why they WERE different, Robert exclaimed to her himself

in the course of a quarter of an hour's conversation;

for, talking of his brother, and lamenting the extreme

GAUCHERIE which he really believed kept him from mixing

in proper society, he candidly and generously attributed it

much less to any natural deficiency, than to the misfortune

of a private education; while he himself, though probably

without any particular, any material superiority

by nature, merely from the advantage of a public school,

was as well fitted to mix in the world as any other man.
 
 

     "Upon my soul," he added, "I believe it is nothing more;

and so I often tell my mother, when she is grieving

about it.  'My dear Madam,' I always say to her, 'you must

make yourself easy.  The evil is now irremediable,

and it has been entirely your own doing.  Why would

you be persuaded by my uncle, Sir Robert, against your

own judgment, to place Edward under private tuition,

at the most critical time of his life?  If you had only sent

him to Westminster as well as myself, instead of sending

him to Mr. Pratt's, all this would have been prevented.'

This is the way in which I always consider the matter,

and my mother is perfectly convinced of her error."
 
 

     Elinor would not oppose his opinion, because,

whatever might be her general estimation of the advantage

of a public school, she could not think of Edward's

abode in Mr. Pratt's family, with any satisfaction.
 
 

     "You reside in Devonshire, I think,"--was his

next observation, "in a cottage near Dawlish."
 
 

     Elinor set him right as to its situation;

and it seemed rather surprising to him that anybody

could live in Devonshire, without living near Dawlish.

He bestowed his hearty approbation however on their

species of house.
 
 

     "For my own part," said he, "I am excessively fond

of a cottage; there is always so much comfort, so much

elegance about them.  And I protest, if I had any money

to spare, I should buy a little land and build one myself,

within a short distance of London, where I might drive

myself down at any time, and collect a few friends

about me, and be happy.  I advise every body who is going

to build, to build a cottage.  My friend Lord Courtland

came to me the other day on purpose to ask my advice,

and laid before me three different plans of Bonomi's.

I was to decide on the best of them.  'My dear Courtland,'

said I, immediately throwing them all into the fire, 'do not

adopt either of them, but by all means build a cottage.'

And that I fancy, will be the end of it.
 
 

     "Some people imagine that there can be no accommodations,

no space in a cottage; but this is all a mistake.

I was last month at my friend Elliott's, near Dartford.

Lady Elliott wished to give a dance.  'But how can it

be done?' said she; 'my dear Ferrars, do tell me how it

is to be managed.  There is not a room in this cottage

that will hold ten couple, and where can the supper be?'

I immediately saw that there could be no difficulty in it,

so I said, 'My dear Lady Elliott, do not be uneasy.

The dining parlour will admit eighteen couple with ease;

card-tables may be placed in the drawing-room; the library

may be open for tea and other refreshments; and let the

supper be set out in the saloon.'  Lady Elliott was delighted

with the thought.  We measured the dining-room, and found

it would hold exactly eighteen couple, and the affair

was arranged precisely after my plan.  So that, in fact,

you see, if people do but know how to set about it,

every comfort may be as well enjoyed in a cottage

as in the most spacious dwelling."
 
 

     Elinor agreed to it all, for she did not think

he deserved the compliment of rational opposition.
 
 

     As John Dashwood had no more pleasure in music than his

eldest sister, his mind was equally at liberty to fix on

any thing else; and a thought struck him during the evening,

which he communicated to his wife, for her approbation,

when they got home.  The consideration of Mrs. Dennison's mistake,

in supposing his sisters their guests, had suggested the

propriety of their being really invited to become such,

while Mrs. Jenning's engagements kept her from home.

The expense would be nothing, the inconvenience not more;

and it was altogether an attention which the delicacy

of his conscience pointed out to be requisite to its

complete enfranchisement from his promise to his father.

Fanny was startled at the proposal.
 
 

     "I do not see how it can be done," said she,

"without affronting Lady Middleton, for they spend every day

with her; otherwise I should be exceedingly glad to do it.

You know I am always ready to pay them any attention

in my power, as my taking them out this evening shews.

But they are Lady Middleton's visitors.  How can I ask them

away from her?"
 
 

     Her husband, but with great humility, did not see

the force of her objection.  "They had already spent a week

in this manner in Conduit Street, and Lady Middleton

could not be displeased at their giving the same number

of days to such near relations."
 
 

     Fanny paused a moment, and then, with fresh vigor, said,
 
 

     "My love I would ask them with all my heart, if it

was in my power.  But I had just settled within myself

to ask the Miss Steeles to spend a few days with us.

They are very well behaved, good kind of girls; and I think

the attention is due to them, as their uncle did so very

well by Edward.  We can ask your sisters some other year,

you know; but the Miss Steeles may not be in town any more.

I am sure you will like them; indeed, you DO like them,

you know, very much already, and so does my mother; and they

are such favourites with Harry!"
 
 

     Mr. Dashwood was convinced.  He saw the necessity

of inviting the Miss Steeles immediately, and his conscience

was pacified by the resolution of inviting his sisters

another year; at the same time, however, slyly suspecting

that another year would make the invitation needless,

by bringing Elinor to town as Colonel Brandon's wife,

and Marianne as THEIR visitor.
 
 

     Fanny, rejoicing in her escape, and proud of the ready

wit that had procured it, wrote the next morning to Lucy,

to request her company and her sister's, for some days,

in Harley Street, as soon as Lady Middleton could spare them.

This was enough to make Lucy really and reasonably happy.

Mrs. Dashwood seemed actually working for her, herself;

cherishing all her hopes, and promoting all her views!

Such an opportunity of being with Edward and his family was,

above all things, the most material to her interest,

and such an invitation the most gratifying to her

feelings!  It was an advantage that could not be too

gratefully acknowledged, nor too speedily made use of;

and the visit to Lady Middleton, which had not before had

any precise limits, was instantly discovered to have been

always meant to end in two days' time.
 
 

     When the note was shown to Elinor, as it was within ten

minutes after its arrival, it gave her, for the first time,

some share in the expectations of Lucy; for such a mark

of uncommon kindness, vouchsafed on so short an acquaintance,

seemed to declare that the good-will towards her arose

from something more than merely malice against herself;

and might be brought, by time and address, to do

every thing that Lucy wished.  Her flattery had already

subdued the pride of Lady Middleton, and made an entry

into the close heart of Mrs. John Dashwood; and these

were effects that laid open the probability of greater.
 
 

     The Miss Steeles removed to Harley Street, and all

that reached Elinor of their influence there, strengthened

her expectation of the event.  Sir John, who called on

them more than once, brought home such accounts of the

favour they were in, as must be universally striking.

Mrs. Dashwood had never been so much pleased with any

young women in her life, as she was with them; had given

each of them a needle book made by some emigrant;

called Lucy by her Christian name; and did not know

whether she should ever be able to part with them.