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upon hearing it, would very likely secure every thing to Robert, and the idea of that, for Edward’s sake, frightens away all my inclination for hasty measures.”
“And for your own sake too, or you are carrying your disinterestedness beyond reason.”
Lucy looked at Elinor again, and was silent.
“Do you know Mr. Robert Ferrars?” asked Elinor.
“Not at all—I never saw him; but I fancy he is very unlike his brother—silly and a great coxcomb.”
“A great coxcomb!” repeated Miss Steele, whose ear had caught those words by a sudden pause in Marianne’s music.—“Oh, they are talking of their favourite beaux, I dare say.”
“No sister,” cried Lucy, “you are mistaken there, our favourite beaux are not great coxcombs.”
VOL. II.
C
“I can
