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> engaging as ever, but without any symptom of peculiar regard; and

> I remained convinced, from the evening's scrutiny, that though she

> received his attentions with pleasure, she did not invite them by

> any participation of sentiment. If _you_ have not been mistaken here.

> I must have been in an error. Your superior knowledge of your

> sister must make the latter probable. If it be so, if I have been

> misled by such error to inflict pain on her, your resentment has not

> been unreasonable. But I shall not scruple to assert that the serenity

> of your sister's countenance and air was such as might have given

> the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable her

> temper, her heart was not likely to be easily touched. That I was

> desirous of believing her indifferent is certain; but I will venture

> to say that my investigations and decisions are not usually influenced

> by my hopes or fears. I did not believe her to be indifferent because

> I wished it; I believed it on impartial conviction, as truly as I wished

> it in reason. My objections to the marriage were not merely those

> which I last night acknowledged to have required the utmost force

> of passion to put aside in my own case; the want of connection

> could not be so great an evil to my friend as to me. But there were

> other causes of repugnance; causes which, though still existing, and

> existing to an equal degree in both instances, I had myself endeav-

> oured to forget, because they were not immediately before me. These

> causes must be stated, though briefly. The situation of your mother's

> family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison of that total

> want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by

> herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your

> father: -- pardon me, -- it pains me to offend you. But amidst your

> concern for the defects of your nearest relations, and your displeasure

> at this representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider

> that to have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the

> like censure is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your

> elder sister than it is honourable to the sense and disposition of

> both. I will only say, farther, that from what passed that evening

> my opinion of all parties was confirmed, and every inducement

> heightened, which could have led me before to preserve my friend

> from what I esteemed a most unhappy connection. He left Nether-

> field for London on the day following, as you, I am certain, re-

> member, with the design of soon returning. The part which I acted

> is now to be explained. His sisters' uneasiness had been equally

> excited with my own: our coincidence of feeling was soon discovered;

> and, alike sensible that no time was to be lost in detaching their

> brother, we shortly resolved on joining him directly in London. We

> accordingly went -- and there I readily engaged in the office of

> pointing out to my friend the certain evils of such a choice. I

> described and enforced them earnestly. But however this remon-

> strance might have staggered or delayed his determination, I do

> not suppose that it would ultimately have prevented the marriage, had

> it not been seconded by the assurance, which I hesitated not in

> giving, of your sister's indifference. He had before believed her to

> return his affection with sincere, if not with equal, regard. But

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