ttached to himself. Nothing but
such a persuasion could have prevented his putting an end to an
engagement, which, long before the discovery of it laid him open to
his mother's anger, had been a continual source of disquiet and regret
to him.
"I thought it my duty," said he, "independent of my feelings, to give
her the option of continuing the engagement or not, when I was
renounced by my mother, and stood to all appearance without a friend
in the world to assist me. In such a situation as that, where there
seemed nothing to tempt the avarice or the vanity of any living
creature, how could I suppose, when she so earnestly, so warmly
insisted on sharing my fate, whatever it might be, that any thing but
the most disinterested affection was her inducement? And even now, I
cannot comprehend on what motive she acted, or what fancied advantage
it could be to her, to be fettered to a man for whom she had not the
smallest regard, and who had only two thousand pounds in the world.
She could not foresee that Colonel Brandon would give me a living."
"No; but she might suppose that something would occur in your favour;
that your own family might in time relent. And at any rate, she lost
nothing by continuing the engagement, for she has proved that it
fettered neither her inclination nor her actions. The connection was
certainly a respectable one, and probably gained her consideration
among her friends; and, if nothing more advantageous occurred, it
would be better for her to marry _you_ than be single."
Edward was, of course, immediately convinced that nothing could have
been more natural than Lucy's conduct, nor more self-evident than the
motive of it.
Elinor scolded him, harshly as ladies always scold the imprudence
which compliments themselves, for having spent so much time with them
at Norland, when he must have felt his own inconstancy.
"Your behaviour was certainly very wrong," said she; "because--to say
nothing of my own conviction, our relations were all led away by it to
fancy and expect _what_, as you were _then_ situated, could never be."
He could only plead an ignorance of his own heart, and a mistaken
confidence in the force of his engagement.
"I was simple enough to think, that because my _faith_ was plighted to
another, there could be no danger in my being with you; and that the
consciousness of my engagement was to keep my heart as safe and sacred
as my honour. I felt that I admired you, but I told my
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