His errand at Barton, in fact, was a simple one.
It was only to ask Elinor to marry him;--and considering
that he was not altogether inexperienced in such a question,
it might be strange that he should feel so uncomfortable
in the present case as he really did, so much in need of
encouragement and fresh air.
How soon he had walked himself into the proper
resolution, however, how soon an opportunity of exercising
it occurred, in what manner he expressed himself,
and how he was received, need not be particularly told.
This only need be said;--that when they all sat down to
table at four o'clock, about three hours after his arrival,
he had secured his lady, engaged her mother's consent,
and was not only in the rapturous profession of
the lover, but, in the reality of reason and truth,
one of the happiest of men. His situation indeed was
more than commonly joyful. He had more than the ordinary
triumph of accepted love to swell his heart, and raise
his spirits. He was released without any reproach
to himself, from an entanglement which had long formed
his misery, from a woman whom he had long ceased to love;--
and elevated at once to that security with another,
which he must have thought of almost with despair,
as soon as he had learnt to consider it with desire.
He was brought, not from doubt or suspense, but from
misery to happiness;--and the change was openly spoken
in such a genuine, flowing, grateful cheerfulness,
as his friends had never witnessed in him before.
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