fanny wishes to know where the key for the silver cabinet is kept.
i can only presume she wants to count it. what are you doing?
fortunate girl. at least she can escape fanny, which is more than any of us is able.
i have! i have said 'yes' and 'no'.
good morning, fanny.
how did you find the silver? is it all genuine?
intolerable woman!
how do you like your view, mr ferrars?
this one, then?
no, edward! listen.
can you not feel his despair? try again.
mamma, look. this has just arrived.
even elinor must approve the rent.
no i will fetch her.
why?
by no means. edward is very amiable.
but there is something wanting. he is too sedate his reading last night.
can he love her? can the ardour of the soul really be satisfied with such polite, concealed affections? to love is to burn to be on fire, all made of passion, of adoration, of sacrifice! like juliet, or guinevere or heloise.
pathetic! to die for love? how can you say so? what could be more glorious?
the more i know of the world, the more i am convinced that i shall never see a man whom i can truly love.
i do not! i require only what any young woman of taste should a man who sings well, dances admirably, rides bravely, reads with passion and whose tastes agree in every point with my own.
is love a fancy, or a feeling? no it is immortal as immaculate truth 'tis not a blossom shed as soon as youth drops from the stem of life for it will grow in barren regions, where no waters flow nor ray of promise cheats the pensive gloom--
what a pity it is that edward has no passion for reading.
me?
i think him everything that is amiable and worthy.
but he shall have my unanswering devotion when you tell me he is to be my brother.
how shall i do without you?
i am sure you will be very happy. but you must promise not to live too far away.
do you love him?
esteem him! like him! use those insipid words again and i shall leave the room this instant!
'is love a fancy or a feeling?' or a ferrars?
'i do not attempt to deny that i think highly of him greatly esteem him! like him!'
did he? well, i will wager he will do so in less than a fortnight!
margaret, you know perfectly well there is no such person.
sir john, might i play your pianoforte?
as for you, you have no right, no right at all, to parade your ignorant assumptions--
i told you nothing--
that is not the point. you do not speak of such things before strangers--
mrs jennings is not everyone.
i do not know any duets. forgive me, colonel.
oh! are we never to have a moment's peace? the rent here may be low but i think we have it on very hard terms.
it is too ridiculous! when is a man to be safe from such wit if age and infirmity do not protect him?
did you not hear him complain of a rheumatism in his shoulder?
i am taking you for a walk.
you need another.
it is not going to rain.
is there any felicity in the world superior to this?
look! there is some blue sky! let us chase it!
help me!
margaret, run home and fetch help.
only my ankle.
do not be alarmed, mamma.
his name! his name!
mr john willoughby of allenham!
he lifted me as if i weighed no more than a dried leaf!
and spirit and wit and feeling.
and he is to come tomorrow!
what care i for colds when there is such a man?
you are right. help me, elinor.
but what do you know of mr willoughby, sir john?
but what is he like?
what are his tastes? his passions? his pursuits?
thank you so much, colonel.
i have no intention of 'setting my cap' at anyone, sir john!
goodbye, colonel. thank you for the flowers.
you have found out my name!
how beautiful. these are not from the hothouse.
but i have always preferred wild flowers!
without a doubt, mine is 116.
'0, no! it is an ever-fixed mark.'
goodbye! thank you!
i suppose i have erred against decorum. i should have been dull and spiritless and talked only of the weather, or the state of the roads.
why should he doubt it? why should i hide my regard?
but time alone does not determine intimacy. seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other and seven days are more than enough for others.
i feel i know mr willoughby well already. if i had weaker, more shallow feelings perhaps i could conceal them, as you do--
i am sorry, elinor, i did not mean
i do not understand her, mamma. why does she never mention edward? i have never even seen her cry about him, or about norland.
if there was any true impropriety in my behaviour, i should be sensible of it, elinor--
if the impertinent remarks of such as mrs jennings are proof of impropriety, then we are all offending every moment of our lives--
i should be delighted to join you, colonel!
the colonel has invited us to delaford, willoughby!
a broadwood grand! then i shall really be able to play for you!
there are some people who cannot bear a party of pleasure. i think he wrote the letter himself as a trick for getting out of it.
exactly!
willoughby, we are always alone!
of course. i shall ask mamma if i may stay behind from church.
nothing! please do not ask me questions!
please let me be!
how like a winter hath my absence been from thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! what freezings have i felt, what dark days seen! what old december's bareness everywhere!
london!
i was never so grateful in all my life as i am to mrs jennings. what a kind woman she is! i like her more than i can say. oh, elinor! i shall see willoughby. think how surprised he will be! and you will see edward!
are you asleep?
i do not believe you feel as calm as you look, not even you, elinor. i will never sleep tonight! oh, what were you and miss steele whispering about so long?
yes, you are right.
oh, elinor! it is willoughby, indeed it is!
oh! excuse me, colonel--
where is dear edward, john? we expect to see him daily.
are there any messages, pigeon?
no message at all? no cards?
nothing at all. go back to sleep.
of course! i had not thought of-- thank you, mrs jennings!
willoughby!
good god, willoughby! will you nor shake hands with me?
willoughby, what is the matter? why have you not come to see me? were you not in london? have you nor received my letters?
for heaven's sake, willoughby, tell me what is wrong!
willoughby!
go to him, elinor--force him to come to me.
do not ask me questions!
this reproach from you! you, who confide in no one.
nor i. we have neither of us anything to tell. i because i conceal nothing and you because you communicate nothing.
'my dear madam--i am quite at a loss to discover in what point i could be so unfortunate as to offend you. my esteem for your family is very sincere but if i have given rise to a belief of more than i felt or meant to express, i shall reproach myself for not having been more guarded. my affections have long been engaged elsewhere and it is with great regret that i return your letters and the lock of hair which you so obligingly bestowed upon me. i am etc. john willoughby.'
we are not engaged.
no--he is not so unworthy as you think him.
yes. no--never absolutely. it was every day implied, but never declared. sometimes i thought it had been, but it never was. he has broken no vow.
he did! he did--he loved me as i loved him.
i cannot believe his nature capable of such cruelty!
but it cannot be his heart! oh, mamma! i want mamma! elinor, please take me home! cannot we go tomorrow?
cannot we hire a carriage?
all she wants is gossip and she only likes me because i supply it! oh, god! i cannot endure to stay.
of course.
but not enough. not enough.
edward! i heard your voice! at last you have found us!
oh, don't think of me--elinor is well, you see, that must be enough for both of us!
not at all. the sight of you is all the pleasure it has afforded, is that not so, elinor?
why have you taken so long to come and see us?
engaged elsewhere! but what was that when there were such friends to be met?
no, indeed--for edward is the most fearful of giving pain and the most incapable of being selfish of anyone i ever saw.
edward, will you not sit? elinor, help me to persuade him.
but you are only just arrived!
why did you not urge him to stay?
his reason was no doubt your coldness. if i were edward i would assume you did not care for me at all.
how long have you known?
why did you not tell me?
but edward loves you.
he cannot marry her.
no--but nor would i have him marry where he does not love.
always resignation and acceptance! always prudence and honour and duty! elinor, where is your heart?
oh, elinor!
there was no other way you said so yourself.
i am stiff from sitting so long. will you tell charlotte that i am going for a stroll? elinor glances at the sky in concern.
no, no, it will not rain.
i will keep to the garden, near the house.
love is not love which alters when it alteration finds or bends with the remover to remove: 0, no! it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.
willoughby.  willoughby.
who is that?
look, look, elinor.
it is papa. papa has come.
dearest papa!
elinor?
where is elinor?
colonel brandon.
thank you.
shall we continue tomorrow?
away? where?
but you will not stay away long?
there.
there i fell, and there i first saw willoughby.
but does it follow that, had he chosen me, he would have been content?
he would have had a wife he loved but no money--and might soon have learned to rank the demands of his pocket-book far above the demands of his heart.
if his present regrets are half as painful as mine, he will suffer enough.
no. i compare it with what it ought to have been. i compare it with yours.
my illness has made me consider the past. i saw in my own behaviour nothing but imprudence--and worse. i was insolent and unjust to everyone--
--but you--you i wronged above all. only i knew your heart and its sorrows but even then i was never a grain more compassionate. i brought my illness upon myself--i wanted to destroy myself. and had i succeeded, what misery should i have caused you?
i shall mend my ways! i shall no longer worry others nor torture myself. i am determined to enter on a course of serious study---colonel brandon has promised me the run of his library and i shall read at least six hours a day. by the end of the year i expect to have improved my learning a very great deal.
did mrs ferrars seem well?
it is not just for me! it is for all of us.
thank you, edward, we are all very well.
i hope you have left mrs ferrars well?
what's happening now?