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very one to make your sister happy. And his person, his manners too, are all in his favour. My partiality does not blind me; he certainly is not so handsome as Willoughby,—but at the same time, there is something much more pleasing in his countenance.—There was always a something,—if you remember,—in Willoughby’s eyes at times, which I did not like.”
Elinor could not remember it;—but her mother, without waiting for her assent, continued,
“And his manners, the Colonel’s manners are not only more pleasing to me than Willoughby’s ever were, but they are of a kind I well know to be more solidly attaching to Marianne. Their gentleness, their genuine attention to other people, and their manly unstudied simplicity is much more accordant with her real disposition, than the liveliness—often artificial,
