I assure you I have. I feel a strong persuasion, this morning, that I shall soon be abroad. I ought to travel. I am tired of doing nothing. I want a change. I am serious, Miss Woodhouse, whatever your penetrating eyes may fancy-I am sick of England-and would leave it to-morrow, if I could."
"You are sick of prosperity and indulgence. Cannot you invent a few hardships for yourself, and be contented to stay?"
"I sick of prosperity and indulgence! You are quite mistaken.
I do not look upon myself as either prosperous or indulged. I am thwarted in every thing material. I do not consider myself at all a fortunate person."
"You are not quite so miserable, though, as when you first came.
Go and eat and drink a little more, and you will do very well.
Another slice of cold meat, another draught of Madeira and water, will make you nearly on a par with the rest of us."
"No-I shall not stir. I shall sit by you. You are my best cure."
"We are going to Box Hill to-morrow;-you will join us.
It is not Swisserland, but it will be something for a young man so much in want of a change. You will stay, and go with us?"