Her mother too， in whose mind not one speculative thought of their marriage had been raised， by his prospect of riches， was led before the end of a week to hope and expect it； and secretly to congratulate herself on having gained two such sons-in-law as Edward and Willoughby.
Colonel Brandon’s partiality for Marianne， which had so early been discovered by his friends， now first became perceptible to Elinor， when it ceased to be noticed by them. Their attention and wit were drawn off to his more fortunate rival； and the raillery which the other had incurred before any partiality arose， was removed when his feelings began really to call for the ridicule so justly annexed to sensibility. Elinor was obliged， though unwillingly， to believe that the sentiments which Mrs. Jennings had assigned him for her own satisfaction， were now actually excited by her sister； and that however a general resemblance of disposition between the parties might forward the affection of Mr. Willoughby， an equally striking opposition of character was no hindrance to the regard of Colonel Brandon. She saw it with concern； for what could a silent man of five and thirty hope， when opposed to a very lively one of five and twenty？ and as she could not even wish him successful， she heartily wished him indifferent. She liked him—in spite of his gravity and reserve， she beheld in him an object of interest. His manners， though serious， were mild；and his reserve appeared rather the result of some oppression of spirits than of any natural gloominess of temper. Sir John had dropped hints of past injuries and disappointments， which justified her belief of his being an unfortunate man， and she regarded him with respect and compassion.
Perhaps she pitied and esteemed him the more because he was slighted by Willoughby and Marianne， who， prejudiced against him for being neither lively nor young， seemed resolved to undervalue his merits.
“Brandon is just the kind of man，” said Willoughby one day， when they were talking of him together， “whom every body speaks well of， and nobody cares about； whom all are delighted to see， and nobody remembers to talk to.”
“That is exactly what I think of him，” cried Marianne.
“Do not boast of it， however，” said Elinor， “for it is injustice in both of you. He is highly esteemed by all the family at the park， and I never see him myself without taking pains to converse with him.”
“That he is patronised by you，” replied Willoughby， “is certainly in his favour； but as for the esteem of the others， it is a reproach in itself. Who would submit to the indignity of being approved by such a woman as Lady Middleton and Mrs. Jennings， that could command the indifference of any body else？”
“But perhaps the abuse of such people as yourself and Marianne will make amends for the regard of Lady Middleton and her mother. If their praise is censure， your censure may be praise， for they are not more undiscerning， than you are prejudiced and unjust.”
“In defence of your protegé you can even be saucy.”
“My protegé， as you call him， is a sensible man； and sense will always have attractions for me. Yes， Marianne， even in a man between thirty and forty. He has seen a great deal of the world；has been abroad， has read， and has a thinking mind. I have found him capable of giving me much information on various subjects， and he has always answered my inquiries with readiness of good-breeding and good nature.”
“That is to say，” cried Marianne contemptuously， “he has told you that in the East Indies the climate is hot， and the mosquitoes are troublesome.”
“He would have told me so， I doubt not， had I made any such inquiries， but they happened to be points on which I had been previously informed.”
“Perhaps，” said Willoughby， “his observations may have extended to the existence of nabobs， gold mohrs， and palanquins.”“I may venture to say that his observations have stretched much further than your candour. But why should you dislike him？”
“I do not dislike him. I consider him， on the contrary， as a very respectable man， who has every body’s good word， and nobody’s notice； who has more money than he can spend， more time than he knows how to employ， and two new coats every year.”
“Add to which，” cried Marianne， “that he has neither genius， taste， nor spirit. That his understanding has no brilliancy， his feelings no ardour， and his voice no expression.”
“You decide on his imperfections so much in the mass，” replied Elinor， “and so much on the strength of your own imagination， that the commendation I am able to give of him is comparatively cold and insipid. I can only pronounce him to be a sensible man， well-bred， well-informed， of gentle address， and， I believe， possessing an amiable heart.”
“Miss Dashwood，” cried Willoughby， “you are now using me unkindly. You are endeavouring to disarm me by reason， and to convince me against my will. But it will not do. You shall find me as stubborn as you can be artful. I have three unanswerable reasons for disliking Colonel Brandon： he threatened me with rain when I wanted it to be fine； he has found fault with the hanging of my curricle， and I cannot persuade him to buy my brown mare. If it will be any satisfaction to you， however， to be told， that I believe his character to be in other respects irreproachable， I am ready to confess it. And in return for an acknowledgment， which must give me some pain， you cannot deny me the privilege of disliking him as much as ever.”
CHAPTER XI
