and so little did her presence add to the pleasure

of the others, by any share in their conversation,

that they were sometimes only reminded of her being

amongst them by her solicitude about her troublesome boys.

In Colonel Brandon alone, of all her new acquaintance,

did Elinor find a person who could in any degree claim the

respect of abilities, excite the interest of friendship,

or give pleasure as a companion. Willoughby was out

of the question. Her admiration and regard, even her

sisterly regard, was all his own; but he was a lover;

his attentions were wholly Marianne's, and a far less

agreeable man might have been more generally pleasing.

Colonel Brandon, unfortunately for himself, had no such

encouragement to think only of Marianne, and in conversing

with Elinor he found the greatest consolation for the

indifference of her sister.

Elinor's compassion for him increased, as she had reason

to suspect that the misery of disappointed love had already

been known to him. This suspicion was given by some words

which accidently dropped from him one evening at the park,

when they were sitting down together by mutual consent,

while the others were dancing. His eyes were fixed

on Marianne, and, after a silence of some minutes,

he said, with a faint smile, "Your sister, I understand,

does not approve of second attachments."

"No," replied Elinor, "her opinions are all romantic."

"Or rather, as I believe, she considers them

impossible to exist."

"I believe she does. But how she contrives it

without reflecting on the character of her own father,

who had himself two wives, I know not. A few years

however will settle her opinions on the reasonable basis

of common sense and observation; and then they may be

more easy to define and to justify than they now are,

by any body but herself."

"This will probably be the case," he replied;

"and yet there is something so amiable in the prejudices

of a young mind, that one is sorry to see them give way