, above everything in the world, that you should approve of me and
see that I am right. That is what I want! I will do what I think right;
but, oh, if I could only have you with me in doing it, and know that you
saw with me that it was the best, the only thing to do! Happiness lies
in that, not in having one's own way."

"My dear Elinor," he said, "isn't that asking a great deal? To prevent
you from doing what you think right is in nobody's power. You are of
age, and I am sure my aunt will force nothing; but how can we change our
opinions, our convictions, our entire points of view? There is nobody in
the world I would do so much for as you, Elinor: but I cannot do that,
even for you."

The hot tears were dried from her cheeks, the passion was over. She
looked at him, her efforts to gain him at an end, on the equal footing
of an independent individual agreeing to differ, and as strong in her
own view as he could be.

"There is one thing you can do for me," she said. "Mamma knows nothing
about--fashionable gossip. She is not acquainted with the wicked things
that are said. If she disapproves it is only because---- Oh, I suppose
because one's mother always disapproves a thing that is done without
her, that she has no hand in, what she calls pledging one's self to a
stranger, and not knowing his antecedents, his circumstances, and so
forth! But she hasn't any definite ground for it as you--think you have,
judging in the uncharitable way of the world--not remembering that if we
love one another the more there is against him the more need he has of
me! But all I have to ask of you, John, is not to prejudice my mother. I
know you can do it if you please--a hint would be enough, an uncertain
word, even hesitating when you answer a question--that would be quite
enough! John, if you put things into her head----"

"You ask most extraordinary things of me," said John, turning to bay.
"To tell her lies about a man whom everybody knows--to pretend I think
one thing when I think quite another. Not to say that my duty is to
inform her exactly what things are said, so that she may judge for
herself, not let her go forth in ignorance--that is my plain duty,
Elinor."

"But you won't do it; oh, you won't do it!" she said. "Oh, John, for
the sake of all the time that you have been so good to Nelly--your own
little Nelly, nobody else's! Remember that I and everybody who loves
him know these stories to be lies--and don't, don't put thin