of the party which could recommend them as
companions to the Dashwoods; but the cold insipidity of Lady Middleton
was so particularly repulsive, that in comparison of it the gravity
of Colonel Brandon, and even the boisterous mirth of Sir John and his
mother-in-law was interesting. Lady Middleton seemed to be roused to
enjoyment only by the entrance of her four noisy children after
dinner, who pulled her about, tore her clothes, and put an end to
every kind of discourse except what related to themselves.

In the evening, as Marianne was discovered to be musical, she was
invited to play. The instrument was unlocked, every body prepared to
be charmed, and Marianne, who sang very well, at their request went
through the chief of the songs which Lady Middleton had brought into
the family on her marriage, and which perhaps had lain ever since in
the same position on the pianoforte, for her ladyship had celebrated
that event by giving up music, although by her mother's account, she
had played extremely well, and by her own was very fond of it.

Marianne's performance was highly applauded. Sir John was loud in his
admiration at the end of every song, and as loud in his conversation
with the others while every song lasted. Lady Middleton frequently
called him to order, wondered how any one's attention could be
diverted from music for a moment, and asked Marianne to sing a
particular song which Marianne had just finished. Colonel Brandon
alone, of all the party, heard her without being in raptures. He paid
her only the compliment of attention; and she felt a respect for him
on the occasion, which the others had reasonably forfeited by their
shameless want of taste. His pleasure in music, though it amounted not
to that ecstatic delight which alone could sympathize with her own,
was estimable when contrasted against the horrible insensibility of
the others; and she was reasonable enough to allow that a man of five
and thirty might well have outlived all acuteness of feeling and every
exquisite power of enjoyment. She was perfectly disposed to make every
allowance for the colonel's advanced state of life which humanity
required.

CHAPTER VIII

Mrs. Jennings was a widow with an ample jointure. She had only two
daughters, both of whom she had lived to see respectably married, and
she had now therefore nothing to do but to marry all the rest of the
world. In the promotion of this object she was zealously active, as
far as