Chapter 23

However small Eleanor's general dependence on Lucy's veracity might be, it was impossible

for her on serious reflection to suspect it in the present case where no temptation could

be answered both to the folly of inventing a falsehood of such a description.

What Lucy had asserted to be true, therefore Eleanor could not, dared not, longer doubt,

supported as it was to on every side by such probabilities and proofs, and contradicted

by nothing but her own wishes.

Their opportunity of acquaintance in the House of Mr. Pratt was a foundation for the rest,

at once indisputable and alarming.

An Edward's visit near Plymouth, his melancholy state of mind, his dissatisfaction at his

own prospects, his uncertain behavior towards herself, the intimate knowledge of the mistyles

as to Norland and their family connections, which had often surprised her.

The picture, the letter, the ring, formed altogether such a body of evidence as overcame

every fear of condemning him unfairly, and established as a fact which no partiality

could set aside his ill-treatment of herself.

Her resentment of such behavior, her indignation at having been its dupe, for a short time

made her feel only for herself, but other ideas, other considerations, soon arose.

Head Edward been intentionally deceiving her, had he feigned a regard for her which she

did not feel, was his engagement to Lucy an engagement of the heart.

No, whatever it might once have been, she could not believe it such a present, his affection

was all her own, she could not be deceived in that.

Her mother, sisters, Fanny, all had been conscious of his regard for her at Norland.

...