Sense and Sensibility | Page 9

meet every day of our lives. You will
gain a brother, a real, affectionate brother. I have the highest opinion in
the world of Edward's heart. But you look grave, Marianne; do you
disapprove your sister's choice?"
"Perhaps," said Marianne, "I may consider it with some surprise.
Edward is very amiable, and I love him tenderly. But yet--he is not the
kind of young man--there is something wanting--his figure is not
striking; it has none of that grace which I should expect in the man who
could seriously attach my sister. His eyes want all that spirit, that fire,
which at once announce virtue and intelligence. And besides all this, I
am afraid, Mamma, he has no real taste. Music seems scarcely to attract
him, and though he admires Elinor's drawings very much, it is not the
admiration of a person who can understand their worth. It is evident, in
spite of his frequent attention to her while she draws, that in fact he
knows nothing of the matter. He admires as a lover, not as a

connoisseur. To satisfy me, those characters must be united. I could not
be happy with a man whose taste did not in every point coincide with
my own. He must enter into all my feelings; the same books, the same
music must charm us both. Oh! mama, how spiritless, how tame was
Edward's manner in reading to us last night! I felt for my sister most
severely. Yet she bore it with so much composure, she seemed scarcely
to notice it. I could hardly keep my seat. To hear those beautiful lines
which have frequently almost driven me wild, pronounced with such
impenetrable calmness, such dreadful indifference!"--
"He would certainly have done more justice to simple and elegant prose.
I thought so at the time; but you WOULD give him Cowper."
"Nay, Mamma, if he is not to be animated by Cowper!-- but we must
allow for difference of taste. Elinor has not my feelings, and therefore
she may overlook it, and be happy with him. But it would have broke
MY heart, had I loved him, to hear him read with so little sensibility.
Mama, the more I know of the world, the more am I convinced that I
shall never see a man whom I can really love. I require so much! He
must have all Edward's virtues, and his person and manners must
ornament his goodness with every possible charm."
"Remember, my love, that you are not seventeen. It is yet too early in
life to despair of such a happiness. Why should you be less fortunate
than your mother? In one circumstance only, my Marianne, may your
destiny be different from her's!"

CHAPTER 4
"What a pity it is, Elinor," said Marianne, "that Edward should have no
taste for drawing."
"No taste for drawing!" replied Elinor, "why should you think so? He
does not draw himself, indeed, but he has great pleasure in seeing the
performances of other people, and I assure you he is by no means
deficient in natural taste, though he has not had opportunities of
improving it. Had he ever been in the way of learning, I think he would
have drawn very well. He distrusts his own judgment in such matters so
much, that he is always unwilling to give his opinion on any picture;
but he has an innate propriety and simplicity of taste, which in general
direct him perfectly right."
Marianne was afraid of offending, and said no more on the subject; but
the kind of approbation which Elinor described as excited in him by the
drawings of other people, was very far from that rapturous delight,
which, in her opinion, could alone be called taste. Yet, though smiling
within herself at the mistake, she honoured her sister for that blind
partiality to Edward which produced it.
"I hope, Marianne," continued Elinor, "you do not consider him as
deficient in general taste. Indeed, I think I may say that you cannot, for
your behaviour to him is perfectly cordial, and if THAT were your
opinion, I am sure you could never be civil to him."
Marianne hardly knew what to say. She would not wound the feelings
of her sister on any account, and yet to say what she did not believe
was impossible. At length she replied:
"Do not be offended, Elinor, if my praise of him is not in every thing
equal to your sense of his merits. I have not had so many opportunities
of estimating the minuter propensities of his mind, his inclinations and
tastes, as you have; but I have the highest opinion in the world of his
goodness and sense. I think him every thing that is worthy and
amiable."

"I am sure," replied Elinor, with a smile, "that