me 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, Mama, 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, Mama, 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 hers!"

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