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
choose 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."

The change which a few hours had wrought in the minds and the
happiness of the Dashwoods, was such--so great--as promised them all,
the satisfaction of a sleepless night. Mrs. Dashwood, too happy to be
comfortable, knew not how to love Edward, nor praise Elinor enough,
how to be enough thankful for his release without wounding his
delicacy, nor how at once to give them leisure for unrestrained
conversation together, and yet enjoy, as she wished, the sight and
society of both.

Marianne could speak _her_ happiness only by tears. Comparisons would
occur--regrets would arise;--and her joy, though sincere as her love
for her sister, was of a kind to give her neither spirits nor
language.

But Elinor--how are _her_ feelings to be described? From the moment of
learning that Lucy was married to another, that Edward was free, to
the moment of his justifying the hopes which had so instantly
followed, she was every thing by turns but tranquil. But when the
second momen