nothing. To me it would seem only a commercial exchange, in which each wished to be benefited at the expense of the other.'"
It is obvious that a young lady of seventeen with these views will make a great goose of herself some day, and the occasion is not far off. A new character appears at Barton Park, one John Willoughby, who is young, handsome, and well-born. He is evidently much attracted by Marianne's beauty and animation, and as she finds in him a congenial spirit, holding all her views, and agreeing with all her sentiments, she is soon as thoroughly in love with him as he appears to be with her. Elinor cannot wonder at their attachment, but she does wish they would make it a little less conspicuous. "When he was present she had no eyes for anyone else. Everything he did was right. Everything he said was clever. If their evenings at the Park were concluded with cards, he cheated himself and all the rest of the party to get her a good hand. If dancing formed the amusement of the night, they were partners for half the time; and when obliged to separate for a couple of dances, were careful to stand together, and scarcely spoke a word to anyone else. Such conduct made them, of course, most exceedingly laughed at; but ridicule could not shame, and seemed hardly to provoke them."
This blissful condition of "spooning," to which Elinor objects, and which Mrs. Dashwood thinks quite natural, comes to an end through Willoughby being called to London by a wealthy relation, whose orders he must obey. He departs with every appearance of affliction, but gives no pledge as to his return; and Marianne, though absolutely certain of his constancy, abandons herself to an ecstasy of grief and
