happy villages please me better than the finest banditti

in the world."

Marianne looked with amazement at Edward,

with compassion at her sister. Elinor only laughed.

The subject was continued no farther; and Marianne

remained thoughtfully silent, till a new object suddenly

engaged her attention. She was sitting by Edward, and

in taking his tea from Mrs. Dashwood, his hand passed

so directly before her, as to make a ring, with a plait

of hair in the centre, very conspicuous on one of his fingers.

"I never saw you wear a ring before, Edward," she cried.

"Is that Fanny's hair? I remember her promising to give

you some. But I should have thought her hair had been darker."

Marianne spoke inconsiderately what she really felt--

but when she saw how much she had pained Edward, her own

vexation at her want of thought could not be surpassed

by his. He coloured very deeply, and giving a momentary

glance at Elinor, replied, "Yes; it is my sister's hair.

The setting always casts a different shade on it,

you know."

Elinor had met his eye, and looked conscious likewise.

That the hair was her own, she instantaneously felt as

well satisfied as Marianne; the only difference in their

conclusions was, that what Marianne considered as a free

gift from her sister, Elinor was conscious must have been

procured by some theft or contrivance unknown to herself.

She was not in a humour, however, to regard it as an affront,

and affecting to take no notice of what passed,

by instantly talking of something else, she internally

resolved henceforward to catch every opportunity of eyeing

the hair and of satisfying herself, beyond all doubt,

that it was exactly the shade of her own.

Edward's embarrassment lasted some time, and it

ended in an absence of mind still more settled.

He was particularly grave the whole morning.

Marianne severely censured herself for what she had said;

but her own forgiveness might have been more speedy,

had she known how little offence it had given her sister.