The dinner was a grand one,the servants were numerous,and everything bespoke the mistress's inclination for show,and the master's ability to support it.In spite of the improvements and additions which were making to the Norland estate,and in spite of its owner having once been within some thousand pounds of being obliged to sell out at a loss,nothing gave any symptom of that indigence which he had tried to infer from it;no poverty of any kind,except of conversation,appeared-but there the deficiency was considerable.John Dashwood had not much to say for himself that was worth hearing,and his wife had still less.But there was no peculiar disgrace in this,for it was very much the case with the chief of their visitors,who almost all laboured under one or other of these disqualifications for being agreeable-want of sense,either natural or improved,want of elegance,want of spirits,or want of temper.
When the ladies withdrew to the drawing-room after dinner,this poverty was particularly evident,for the gentlemen had supplied the discourse with some variety-the variety of politics,enclosing land,and breaking horses-but then it was all over,and one subject only engaged the ladies till coffee came in,which was the comparative heights of Harry Dashwood,and Lady Middleton's second son William,who were nearly of the same age.
Had both the children been there,the affair might have been determined too easily by measuring them at once;but as Harry only was present,it was all conjectural assertion on both sides,and everybody had a right to be equally positive in their opinion,and to repeat it over and over again as often as they liked.
The parties stood thus:
The two mothers,though each really convinced that her own son was the tallest,politely decided in favour of the other.
The two grandmothers,with not less partiality,but more sincerity,were equally earnest in support of their own descendant.
Lucy,who was hardly less anxious to please one parent than the other,thought the boys were both remarkably tall for their age,and could not conceive that there could be the smallest difference in the world between them;and Miss Steele,with yet greater address,gave it,as fast as she could,in favour of each.
Elinor,having once delivered her opinion on William's side,by which she offended Mrs Ferrars,and Fanny still more,did not see the necessity for enforcing it by any farther assertion;and Marianne,when called on for hers,offended them all by declaring that she had no opinion to give,as she had never thought about it.
Before her removing from Norland,Elinor had painted a very pretty pair of screens for her sister-in-law,which being now just mounted and brought home,ornamented her present drawing-room;and these screens catching the eye of John Dashwood on his following the other gentlemen into the room,were officiously handed by him to Colonel Brandon for his admiration.
‘These are done by my eldest sister,’said he;‘and you,as a man of taste,will,I dare say,be pleased with them.I do not know whether you ever happened to see any of her performances before,but she is in general reckoned to draw extremely well.’
The Colonel,though disclaiming all pretensions to connoisseurship,warmly admired the screens,as he would have done anything painted by Miss Dashwood;and the curiosity of the others being of course excited,they were handed round for general inspection.Mrs Ferrars,not aware of their being Elinor's work,particularly requested to look at them;and after they had received the gratifying testimony of Lady Middleton's approbation,Fanny presented them to her mother,considerately informing her at the same time that they were done by Miss Dashwood.
‘Hum’-said Mrs Ferrars-‘very pretty,’-and without regarding them at all,returned them to her daughter.
Perhaps Fanny thought for a moment that her mother had been quite rude enough,-for,colouring a little,she immediately said,
‘They are very pretty,ma'am-an't they?’But then again,the dread of having been too civil,too encouraging herself,probably came over her,for she presently added,
‘Do you not think they are something in Miss Morton's style of painting,ma'am?She does paint most delightfully.How beautifully her last landscape is done!’
‘Beautifully indeed.But she does everything well.’
Marianne could not bear this.She was already greatly displeased with Mrs Ferrars;and such ill-timed praise of another,at Elinor's expense,though she had not any notion of what was principally meant by it,provoked her immediately to say with warmth,
‘This is admiration of a very particular kind!What is Miss Morton to us?Who knows or who cares for her?It is Elinor of whom we think and speak.’
And so saying,she took the screens out of her sister-in-law's hand to admire them herself as they ought to be admired.
Mrs Ferrars looked exceedingly angry,and drawing herself up more stiffly than ever,pronounced in retort this bitter philippic:‘Miss Morton is Lord Morton's daughter.’
Fanny looked very angry too,and her husband was all in a fright at his sister's audacity.Elinor was much more hurt by Marianne's warmth,than she had been by what produced it;but Colonel Brandon's eyes,as they were fixed on Marianne,declared that he noticed only what was amiable in it;the affectionate heart which could not bear to see a sister slighted in the smallest point.
Marianne's feelings did not stop here.The cold insolence of Mrs Ferrars's general behaviour to her sister,seemed,to her,to foretell such difficulties and distresses to Elinor,as her own wounded heart taught her to think of with horror;and urged by a strong impulse of affectionate sensibility,she moved,after a moment,to her sister's chair,and putting one arm round her neck,and one cheek close to hers,said in a low,but eager voice:
‘Dear,dear Elinor,don't mind them.Don't let them make you unhappy.’
