CHAPTER 8.
The two Ladies continued walking together [till] rejoined by the others, who as they issued from the Library were followed by a young Whitby running off with 5 vols. under his arm to Sir Edward’s Gig—and Sir Edw: approaching Charlotte, said “You may perceive what [has been our Occupation]. My Sister wanted my Counsel in the selection of some books.—We have many leisure hours, & read a great deal.—I am no indiscriminate Novel-Reader. The mere Trash of the common Circulating Library, I hold in the highest contempt. You will never hear me advocating those puerile Emanations which detail nothing but discordant Principles incapable of Amalgamation, or those vapid tissues of ordinary Occurrences from which no useful Deductions can be drawn.—In vain may we put them into a literary Alembic;—we distil nothing which can add to Science.—You understand me I am sure?” “I am not quite certain that I do.—[But] if you will describe the sort of Novels which you do approve, [I dare say it will] give me a clearer idea.” “Most willingly, Fair Questioner.—The Novels which I approve are such as display Human Nature with Grandeur—such as shew her in the Sublimities of intense Feeling—such as exhibit the progress of strong Passion from the first Germ of [incipient] Susceptibility to the utmost Energies of Reason half-dethroned,—where we see the strong spark of Woman’s Captivations elicit such Fire in the Soul of Man as leads him—(though at the risk of some [Aberration] from the strict line of Primitive Obligations)—to hazard all, dare all, [atcheive] all, to obtain her.—Such are the Works which I peruse with [delight], & I hope I may say, with amelioration. They hold forth the most splendid Portraitures of high Conceptions, Unbounded Veiws, illimitable Ardour, [indomptible] Decision—and even when the Event is mainly anti-prosperous to the [high-toned Machinations of the] prime Character, the potent, pervading Hero of the Story, it leaves us full of Generous Emotions for him;—our Hearts are paralized—. T’were Pseudo-Philosophy to assert that we do not feel more enwraped by the brilliancy of his Career, than by the tranquil & morbid Virtues of [any opposing Character]. Our approbation of the Latter is [but Eleemosynary].—These are the Novels which enlarge the primitive Capabilities of the Heart, & which it cannot impugn the Sense or be any Dereliction of the character, of the most [anti-puerile] Man, to be conversant with.”—“If I understand you aright—said Charlotte—our taste in Novels is not at all the same.” And here they were obliged to part—Miss D. being too much tired of them all, to stay any longer.—The truth was that Sir Edw: [whom circumstances had confined very much to one spot] had read more sentimental Novels than agreed with him. His fancy had been early caught by all the impassioned, & most exceptionable parts of Richardsons; & such Authors as have [since appeared] to tread in Richardson’s steps, so far as Man’s determined pursuit of Woman in defiance of every [opposition of feeling & convenience] is concerned, had since occupied the greater part of his literary hours, & formed his Character.—With a perversity of Judgement, which must be attributed to his not having by Nature a very strong head, the Graces, the Spirit, the Sagacity, & the Perseverance, [of the] [Villain] of the Story outweighed all his absurdities & all his Atrocities with Sir Edward. With him, such Conduct was Genius, Fire & Feeling.—It interested & inflamed him; & he [was always more anxious for its] [Success] & mourned over its Discomfitures with more Tenderness than cd ever have been contemplated by the Authors.—Though he owed many of his ideas to this sort of reading, it were unjust to say that he [read nothing] else, or that his Language [were] not formed on a more general Knowledge of modern Literature.—He read all the Essays, Letters, Tours & Criticisms of the day—& with the same ill-luck which made him derive only false Principles from Lessons of Morality, & incentives to Vice from the History of it’s Overthrow, he gathered only hard words & involved sentences from the style of [our] most approved Writers.—
Sir Edw:’s great object in life was to be seductive.—With such personal advantages as he knew himself to possess, & such Talents as he did also give himself credit for, he regarded it as his Duty.—[He felt that he] was formed to be a dangerous Man—quite in the line of the Lovelaces.—[The very name of Sir Edward he thought, carried some degree of fascination with it].—To be generally gallant & assiduous about the fair, to make fine speeches to every pretty Girl, was but the inferior part of the Character he had to play.—Miss Heywood, or any other young Woman with [any] pretensions to Beauty, he was entitled (according to his own [veiws] of Society) to approach with high Compliment & Rhapsody on the slightest acquaintance; but it was [Clara alone] on whom he had serious designs; it was Clara whom he meant to seduce.—Her seduction was quite determined on. Her Situation in every way called for it. She was his rival in Lady D.’s favour, she was young, lovely & dependant.—He had very early seen the necessity of the case, & had now been long trying with cautious assiduity to make an impression on her heart, and to undermine her Principles.—Clara saw through him, & had not the least intention of being seduced—but she bore with him patiently enough to confirm the sort of attachment which her personal Charms had raised.—A greater degree of discouragement indeed would not have affected Sir Edw:—. He was armed against the highest pitch of Disdain or Aversion.—If she could not be won by affection, he must carry her off. He knew his Business.—Already had he had many Musings on the Subject. If he were constrained so to act, he must naturally wish to strike out something new, to exceed those who had gone before him—and he [felt] curiosity to [ascertain] whether the Neighbourhood of Tombuctoo might not afford some [solitary] House adapted for Clara’s reception;—but the Expence alas! of Measures in that masterly style was ill-suited to his Purse, & Prudence obliged him to prefer the quietest [sort] of ruin & disgrace for the object of his Affections, to the more renowned.—
CHAPTER 9.
One day, soon after Charlotte’s arrival at Sanditon, she had the pleasure of seeing just as she ascended from the Sands to the Terrace, a Gentleman’s Carriage with Post Horses standing at the door of the Hotel, as very lately arrived, & by the quantity of Luggage taking off, bringing it might be hoped, some respectable family determined on a long residence.—Delighted to have such good news for Mr & Mrs P., who had both gone home some time before, she proceeded for Trafalgar House with as much alacrity as could remain, after [having been] contending for the last 2 hours with a very fine wind blowing directly on shore; but she had not reached the little Lawn, when she saw a Lady walking nimbly behind her at no great distance; and convinced that it [could be] no acquaintance of her own, she resolved to hurry on & get into the House [if possible before her]. But the Stranger’s pace [did not allow] this to be accomplished;—Charlotte was on the steps & had rung, but the door was not opened, [when] the other crossed the Lawn;—and when the Servant appeared, they were just equally ready for entering the House.—The ease of the Lady, her “How do you do Morgan?—” & Morgan’s Looks on seeing her, were —but another moment brought Mr P. into the Hall to welcome the Sister he had seen from the Drawg room, and she was soon introduced to Miss Diana Parker. There was surprise [but still more] pleasure in seeing her.—[Nothing cd be kinder than her reception from both Husband and Wife]. “[How] did she come? & with whom?—And they were so glad to find her equal to the Journey!—And [that she was] to belong to them, was a thing of course.” Miss Diana P. was about 4 & 30, of [middling] height & slender;—[delicate looking rather than sickly]; [with an agreable face], & a very animated eye;—[her manners resembling] her Brother’s in their ease & frankness, though [with more decision] & less mildness in her Tone. She began an account of herself [without delay].—Thanking them for their Invitation, but “that was quite out of the question, for they were all three come, & meant to get into Lodgings & make some stay.”—“All three come!—What!—Susan & Arthur!—Susan able to come too!—This was [better & better].” “Yes—we are actually all [come]. Quite unavoidable.—[Nothing else to be done].—You shall hear all about it.—But my dear Mary, send for the Children;—I long to see them.”—“And how has Susan born the Journey?—& how is Arthur?—& why do not we see him here with you?”—“Susan has born it wonderfully. She had not a wink of sleep either the night before we set out, or last [night] at Chichester, [and as] this is not [so common] with her [as] with me, I have had a thousand fears for her—but she has kept up [wonderfully].—[had no Hysterics] of consequence till we came [within sight of] poor old Sanditon—and [the attack was not very violent—nearly over] by the time we reached your Hotel—so that we got her out of the Carriage extremely well, with only [Mr Woodcock’s assistance]—& when I left her she was directing [the Disposal of the Luggage], & helping old [Sam] [uncord] the Trunks.—She desired her best Love, [with a thousand regrets] at [being so poor] a Creature that she cd not come with me. And as for poor Arthur, he wd not have been [unwilling] himself, but there is so much Wind that I did not think he cd safely venture,—for I am sure there is Lumbago hanging [about] him—and [so I] helped him on with his great Coat & sent him off to [the Terrace, to] take us Lodgings.—Miss Heywood must have seen our Carriage standing at the [Hotel].—I knew Miss Heywood the moment I saw her before me [on the Down].—My dear Tom I am glad to see you walk so well. Let me feel your Ancle.—That’s right; all right & clean. The play of your Sinews a very little [affected]:—barely perceptible.—Well—now for the explanation of my being here.—I told you in my Letter, of the two considerable Families, I was hoping to secure for you—the West Indians, & the Seminary.—” Here Mr P. drew his Chair still nearer to his Sister, & took her hand again most affectionately as he answered “Yes, Yes;—How active & how kind you have been!”—“The Westindians, she continued, whom I look upon as the most desirable of the two—as the Best of [the Good]—prove to be a Mrs Griffiths & her family. I [know them only] through others.—[You must] have heard me mention Miss Capper, the particular friend of my very particular friend Fanny Noyce;—now, Miss Capper is extremely intimate with a Mrs Darling, who is on terms of constant correspondence with Mrs Griffiths herself.—[Only] a short chain, you see, between us, & not a Link wanting. Mrs G. meant to go to the Sea, for her Young People’s benefit—had fixed on the coast of Sussex, but was undecided as to the [where], wanted something Private, & wrote to ask the opinion of her friend Mrs Darling.—Miss Capper happened to be staying with Mrs D. when Mrs G.’s Letter arrived, & was consulted [on the question]; she wrote the same day to Fanny Noyce and mentioned it to her—& Fanny all alive for us, instantly took up her pen & forwarded the circumstance to me—except as to [Names]—which have but lately transpired.—[There] was but one thing for me to do.—I answered Fanny’s Letter by the same Post & pressed for the recommendation of Sanditon. Fanny had feared your having no house large enough [to receive] such a Family.—But I seem to be spinning out my story to an endless length.—You see how it was all managed. I had the pleasure of hearing soon afterwards by the same [simple link of connection] that Sanditon had been recommended by Mrs Darling, & that the Westindians were very much disposed to go thither.—This was the state of the [case] when I wrote to you;—[but two days] ago;—yes, the day before yesterday—I heard again from Fanny Noyce, saying that she had heard from Miss Capper, who by a Letter from Mrs Darling understood that Mrs G.— has expressed herself in a letter to Mrs D. more doubtingly on the subject of Sanditon.—Am I clear?—I would be anything rather than not clear.”—“Oh! perfectly, perfectly. Well?”—“The reason of this hesitation, was her having no connections in the place, & no means of ascertaining that she should have good accomodations on [arriving there];—and she was particularly careful & scrupulous on all those matters more on account of a certain Miss Lambe a young Lady (probably a Neice) under her care, than on her own [account] or her Daughters.—Miss Lambe has an immense fortune—richer than all the rest—& very delicate health.—One sees clearly enough by [all this], the sort of Woman Mrs G. must be—as helpless & indolent, as Wealth & a Hot Climate are apt [to make us]. But we are not all born to equal Energy.—What was to be done?—I had a few moments indecision;—[Whether] to offer to write to you,—[or to Mrs] Whitby [to] secure them a House?—but neither pleased me.—I hate to employ others, when I [am equal] to act myself—and my conscience told me that this was an occasion which called for [me]. Here was a family of helpless Invalides whom I might essentially serve.—I sounded Susan—the same Thought had occurred to her.—Arthur made no difficulties—our plan was arranged immediately, we were off yesterday morng at 6—, [left Chichester] at the same hour today—& here we are.—” “Excellent!—Excellent!—cried Mr Parker.—Diana, you are unequal’d in serving your friends [& doing Good to all the World].—I know nobody like you.—Mary, my Love, is not she a wonderful Creature?—Well—and now, what House do you design to engage for them?—What is the size of their family?—” “I do not at all know—replied his Sister—have not the least idea;—never heard any particulars;—but I am very sure that the largest house at Sanditon cannot be too large. They are more likely to want a second.—I shall take only one however, & that, but for a week certain.—Miss Heywood, I astonish you.—You hardly know what to make of me.—I see by your Looks, that you are not used to such [quick] [measures].”—[The words] “Unaccountable Officiousness!—Activity run mad!”—[had just passed through Charlotte’s mind]—but answer was easy. “I dare say I [do] look surprised, said she—because these are very great exertions, & I know [what Invalides both you & your Sister are].” “Invalides indeed.—I trust there are not three People in England who have so sad a right to that [appellation]!—But my dear Miss Heywood, we are sent into this World to be as extensively useful as possible, & where some degree of Strength of Mind is given, it is not a feeble body which will excuse us—or [incline] us to excuse ourselves.—[The World] is pretty much divided between the Weak of Mind & the Strong—between those who can act & those who can [not], & it is the bounden Duty of the Capable to let [no opportunity of being useful escape them].—My Sister’s Complaints & mine are happily not often of a Nature, to threaten Existence immediately—& as long as we can exert ourselves to be [of use of] others, I am convinced that the Body is the better, for the refreshment the Mind receives in doing it’s Duty.—While I have been travelling, with this object in veiw, I have been perfectly well.”—The entrance of the Children ended this little panegyric on her own Disposition—& after having noticed & caressed them all,—she prepared to go.—“Cannot you dine with us?—Is not it possible to prevail on you to dine with us?” was then the cry; and that being absolutely negatived, it was “And when shall we see you again? and how can we be of use to you?”—and Mr P. [warmly offered his assistance] in taking the house for Mrs G.—“I will come to you the moment I have dined, said he, & we will go about together.”—But this was immediately declined.—“No, my dear Tom, upon no account in the World, shall you stir a step on any business [of mine].—Your Ancle wants rest. I see by the position of your foot, that you have used it too much already.—No, I shall go about my House-taking directly. Our Dinner is not ordered till six—& by that time I hope to have completed it. It is now only ½ past 4.—As to seeing me again [today]—I cannot answer for it; the others will be at the Hotel all the Eveng, & delighted to see you at any time, but as soon as I get back I shall hear what Arthur has done about our own Lodgings, & probably the moment Dinner is over, shall be out again on business relative to them, for we hope to get into [some Lodgings or other] & be settled after breakfast tomorrow.—I have not much confidence in poor Arthur’s skill for Lodging-taking, but he seemed to like [the commission].—” “I think you are doing too much, said Mr P. You will knock yourself up. You shd not move again after Dinner.” “[No, indeed you should not. cried his wife, for Dinner is such a mere name] with you all, that it can do you no good.—I know what your appetites are.—” “My appetite is very much mended I assure you lately. I have been taking some Bitters of my own decocting, which have done wonders. Susan never eats [I grant you]—& just at present I shall want nothing; I never eat for about a week after a Journey—but as for Arthur, he [is only too much disposed for Food. We are often] obliged to check him.”—“But you have not told me any thing of the other Family coming to Sanditon, said Mr P. as he walked with her to the door of the House—the Camberwell Seminary; have we a good chance of them?” “Oh! Certain—quite certain.—I had forgotten them for the moment, but I had a letter 3 days ago from my friend Mrs Charles Dupuis which assured me of Camberwell. Camberwell will be here to a certainty, & very soon.—That good Woman (I do not know her name) not being so wealthy & [independant] as Mrs G.— can travel & chuse for herself.—I will tell you how I got at her. Mrs Charles Dupuis lives almost next door to a Lady, who has a relation lately settled at Clapham, [who actually attends the Seminary and gives lessons on Eloquence and] Belles Lettres to some of the Girls.—I got that Man a Hare from one of Sidney’s friends—and he recommended Sanditon;—Without my [appearing however]—Mrs Charles Dupuis managed it all.—”
CHAPTER 10.
It was not a week, [since] Miss Diana Parker had been told by her feelings, that the Sea Air wd probably in her present state, be the death of her, and now she was at Sanditon, intending to make some Stay, & without appearing to have the slightest recollection of having written or felt any such thing.—It was impossible for Charlotte not to suspect a good deal of fancy in such an extraordinary state of health.—Disorders & Recoveries so very much out of the common way, seemed more like the amusement of eager Minds in want of employment than of actual afflictions & releif. The Parkers, were no doubt a family of Imagination & quick feelings—and while the eldest Brother found vent for his superfluity of [sensation] as a Projector, the Sisters were perhaps driven to dissipate theirs in the invention of odd [complaints].—The whole of their mental vivacity was evidently not so employed; Part was laid out in being useful.—It should seem that they must either be very busy for the Good [of others], or else extremely ill themselves. Some natural delicacy of Constitution in fact, with an unfortunate turn for Medecine, especially quack Medecine, had given them [an early] tendency [at] various times, to various Disorders;—the rest of [their sufferings] was from Fancy, the love of Distinction & the love of the Wonderful.—They had [Charitable] hearts & many amiable feelings—but , & the glory of doing more than anybody else, had their share in every exertion of [Benevolence]—and there was Vanity in all they did, as well as in all they endured.—Mr & Mrs P. spent a great part of the Eveng at the Hotel; but Charlotte had only two or three veiws of Miss Diana posting over the Down after a House for this Lady whom she had never seen, & [who had never] employed her. She was not made acquainted with the others till the following day, when, being removed into Lodgings & all the party continuing quite well, their Brother & Sister & herself were entreated to drink tea with them.—They were in one of the Terrace Houses—& [she found them] arranged for the Eveng in a small neat Drawing room, with a beautiful veiw of the Sea if they had chosen it,—but though [it had been] a very fair English Summer-day,—not only was there no open window, but the Sopha & [the Table], & the Establishment in general was all at the other end of the room by a brisk fire.—Miss P— whom, remembering the three Teeth drawn in one day, Charlotte approached with of respectful Compassion, was not very unlike her Sister in person or manner—tho’ more thin & worn by Illness & Medecine, more relaxed in air, & more subdued in voice. She talked however, the whole Evening as incessantly as Diana—& [excepting] that she sat with salts in her hand, took Drops two or three times from one, out of [the several] Phials already [at home] on the Mantlepeice,—& made a great many odd faces & contortions, Charlotte could perceive no [symptoms] of illness which she, in the boldness of her own good health, wd not have undertaken to cure, by putting out the fire, opening the Window, & disposing of the Drops & [the salts] by means of one or the other. She had had [considerable] curiosity to see Mr Arthur Parker; & having [fancied him] a very puny, delicate-looking young Man, the smallest very materially of not a robust Family, was astonished to find him quite as tall as his Brother & a great deal Stouter—Broad made & Lusty—and [with] no other look of an Invalide, than a sodden complexion.—Diana was evidently the cheif of the family; principal Mover & Actor;—she had been on her Feet the whole Morning, on Mrs G.’s business or their own, & was still the most alert of the three.—Susan had only superintended their final removal from the Hotel, bringing two heavy Boxes herself, & Arthur had found the air so cold that he had merely walked from one House to the other as nimbly as he could,—& boasted [much] of sitting by the fire till he had cooked up a very good one.—Diana, whose exercise had been too domestic to admit of calculation, but who, by her own account, had not once sat down [during] the space of seven hours, confessed herself a little tired. She had been too successful however for much fatigue; for not only had she by walking & talking down a thousand difficulties at last secured a proper House at 8g pr week for Mrs G.—; she had [also opened] so many Treaties with Cooks, Housemaids, Washerwomen & Bathing Women, that Mrs G. would have little more to do on her arrival, than to wave her hand & collect them around her for choice.—Her concluding effort in the cause, had been a few polite lines of Information to Mrs G. herself—time not allowing for the circuitous train of intelligence which had [been hitherto] kept up,—and she was now regaling in the delight of [opening] the first Trenches of an acquaintance with such a powerful discharge of unexpected Obligation. Mr & Mrs P.— & Charlotte had seen two Post chaises crossing the Down to the Hotel as they were setting off,—a joyful sight—& full of speculation.—The Miss Ps— & Arthur had also [seen something];—they could [distinguish from their window] that there was an arrival at the Hotel, but not [its amount]. Their Visitors answered for two Hack-Chaises.—Could it be the Camberwell Seminary?—No—No.—Had there been a 3d carriage, perhaps it might; but it was very generally agreed that two Hack chaises could never contain a Seminary.—Mr P. was confident of another new Family.—When they were all finally seated, after [some removals to look] at the Sea & the Hotel, Charlotte’s place was by Arthur, who was sitting [next] to the Fire with a degree of Enjoyment which gave a good deal of merit to his [civility in wishing her to take his] Chair.—There was nothing dubious in her manner of declining it, and he sat down again with [much] satisfaction. She drew back her Chair to have all the advantage of [his Person as] a screen, & was very thankful for every inch of Back & Shoulders beyond her pre-conceived idea. [Arthur was heavy in Eye as well as figure, but by no means] indisposed to talk;—and while the other 4 were [cheifly] engaged together, [he evidently] felt it no penance to have next to him, requiring in common Politeness some attention—as his [Br], who felt the [decided] want of some motive for action, [some] [Powerful object] of animation for [him], observed with [considerable] pleasure.—Such was the influence of Youth & Bloom that he [began even to make] a sort of apology for having a Fire. “We shd not have one at home, said he, but the Sea air is always damp. I am not afraid of any thing so much as Damp.—” “I am so fortunate, said C. as never to know whether the air is damp or dry. It has always some property that is wholesome [& invigorating to] me.—” “I like the Air too, as [well as any body] can; replied Arthur, I am very fond of standing at an open Window when there is no Wind—but unluckily a Damp air does not like me.—It gives me the Rheumatism.—You are not rheumatic I suppose?—” “Not at all.” “That’s a great blessing.—But perhaps you are nervous.” “No—I beleive not. I have no idea that I am.”—“I am very nervous.—[To say the truth] Nerves are the worst part of my Complaints [in my opinion].—My Sisters think me Bilious, but I doubt it.—” “You are quite in the right, to doubt it as long as you possibly can, I am sure.—” “If I were Bilious, he continued, you know Wine wd disagree with me, but it always does me good.—The more Wine I drink (in Moderation) the better I am.—I am always best of an Eveng.—If you had seen me today before Dinner, you wd have [thought] me a very poor Creature.—” Charlotte could beleive it—. She kept her countenance however, & said—“As far as I can understand what nervous complaints are, I have a great idea of the efficacy of air & exercise for them:—daily, regular Exercise;—and I should recommend rather more of it to you than I suspect you are in the habit of taking.”—“Oh! I am very fond of exercise myself—he replied—& mean to [walk] a great deal while I am here, if the Weather is temperate. I shall be out every morning before breakfast—& take several turns upon the Terrace, & you will often see me at Trafalgar House.”—“But you do not call a walk to Traf: H. much exercise?—” “Not, [as to] mere distance, but [the Hill is so steep]!—Walking up that Hill, in the middle of the day, would throw me into such a Perspiration!—You would see me all in a Bath by the time I got there!—I am very subject to [Perspiration], and there cannot be a surer sign of Nervousness.—” They were now advancing so deep in Physics, that Charlotte [veiwed] the entrance of the Servant with the Tea things, as a very fortunate Interruption.—It produced a great & immediate change. The young Man’s attentions were instantly lost. He took his own [Cocoa] from the Tray,—which seemed provided with almost as many Teapots &c as there were persons in company, Miss P. drinking one sort of Herb-Tea & Miss Diana another, & turning completely to the Fire, sat coddling & cooking it to his own satisfaction & toasting some Slices of Bread, [brought up] ready-prepared in the Toast rack—and till it was all done, she heard nothing of his voice but [the murmuring of a few broken sentences of self-approbation & success].—When his Toils were over however, he moved back his Chair [into as gallant a Line as ever], & proved that he had not been working only for himself, by his earnest invitation to her to take both Cocoa & Toast.—She was already helped to Tea—which surprised him—so totally self-engrossed had he been.—“I thought I should have been in time, said he, but cocoa takes a great deal of Boiling.”—“I am much obliged to you, replied Charlotte—but I prefer Tea.” “Then I will help myself, said he.—A large [Dish of rather] weak Cocoa every evening, agrees with me better than any thing.”—It struck her however, as he poured out this rather weak Cocoa, that it came forth in a [very fine], dark coloured stream—and at the same moment, his Sisters both crying out—“Oh! Arthur, you get your Cocoa stronger & stronger every Eveng”—, with Arthur’s somewhat conscious reply of “Tis rather stronger than it should be tonight”—convinced her that Arthur was [by no means] so fond of being starved as they could desire, or as he felt proper himself.—He was [certainly] very happy to turn the conversation on dry Toast, & hear no more [of his sisters].—“I hope you will eat some of this Toast, said he, I reckon myself a very good Toaster; I never burn my Toasts—I never put them too near the Fire at first—& yet, you see, there is not a Corner but what is well browned.—I hope you like dry Toast.”—“With a reasonable quantity of Butter spread over it, very much—said Charlotte—but not otherwise.—” “No more do I—said he [exceedingly pleased]—We think quite alike [there].—So far from dry Toast being wholesome, I think it for the Stomach. Without a little butter to soften it, it hurts the Coats of the Stomach. I am sure it does.—I will have the pleasure of spreading some for you directly—& afterwards I will spread some for myself.—Very bad indeed for the Coats of the Stomach—but there is no convincing some people.—It irritates & acts like a [nutmeg grater].—” He could not get the command of the [Butter] however, without a struggle; His Sisters [accusing] him of eating a great deal too much, & [declaring] he was not to be [trusted;—and] he [maintaining] that he only eat enough to secure the Coats of his Stomach;—& besides, he only wanted it now for Miss Heywood.—Such a plea must prevail, he got the butter & spread away for her with an accuracy of Judgement which at least delighted himself; but when [her Toast] was done, & he took his [own] in hand, Charlotte cd hardly contain [herself] as she saw him watching his sisters, while he scrupulously [scraped off almost] as much butter as he put on, & then seize an odd moment for adding a great dab just before it went into his Mouth.—Certainly, Mr Arthur P.’s enjoyments in Invalidism were very different from his sisters—by no means so spiritualized.—A good deal of [Earthy Dross] hung about him. [Charlotte could not but suspect him of adopting] that line of Life, [principally] for the indulgence of an indolent Temper—& to be determined on having no Disorders but such as called for warm rooms & good Nourishment.—In one particular however, she soon found that he had caught something from them.—“What! said he—Do you venture upon two dishes of strong Green Tea in one Eveng?—What Nerves you must have!—How I envy you.—Now, if I were to swallow only one such dish—what do you think it’s effect would be upon me?—” “Keep you awake perhaps all night”—replied Charlotte, meaning to overthrow his attempts at Surprise, by the Grandeur of her own Conceptions.—“Oh! if that were all!—he exclaimed.—No—it [acts on me like Poison and] wd entirely take away the use of my right side, before I had swallowed it 5 minutes.—It [sounds almost incredible]—but it has happened to me [so often that I cannot doubt it].—The use of my right Side is entirely taken away for several hours!” “It sounds rather odd to be sure—answered Charlotte coolly—but I dare say it would be proved to be the simplest thing in the World, by those who have studied right sides & Green Tea scientifically & thoroughly understand all the possibilities of their action on each other.”—[Soon] after Tea, a Letter was brought to Miss D. P— from the Hotel.—“From Mrs Charles Dupuis—said she.—some private hand.”—And having read a few lines, exclaimed aloud “Well, this is very extraordinary! very extraordinary indeed!—That both should have the same name.—Two Mrs Griffiths!—This is a Letter of recommendation & introduction to me, of the Lady from Camberwell—& her name happens to be Griffiths too.—” A few lines more however, [and the colour rushed] into her Cheeks, & with [much] Perturbation she added—“The oddest thing that ever was!—a Miss Lambe too!—a young Westindian of large Fortune.—But it cannot be the same.—Impossible that it should be the same.”—She read the Letter aloud for comfort.—It was merely to “introduce the Bearer, Mrs G.— from Camberwell, & the three young Ladies under her care, to Miss D. P.’s notice.—Mrs G.— being a stranger at Sanditon, was anxious for a respectable Introduction—& Mrs C. Dupuis therefore, at the instance of the intermediate friend, provided her with this Letter, knowing that she cd not do her dear Diana a greater kindness than by giving her the means of being useful.—Mrs G.’s cheif solicitude wd be for the accomodation & comfort of one of the young Ladies under her care, a Miss Lambe, a young W. Indian of large Fortune, in delicate health.”—“It was very strange!—very remarkable!—very extraordinary” but they were all agreed in [determ[in]ing] it to be impossible that there should not be two [Families]; such a totally distinct set of people as were concerned in the reports of [each] made that matter quite certain. There must be two Families.—Impossible to be otherwise. “Impossible” & “Impossible”, was repeated over & over again with great fervour.—An accidental resemblance of Names & circumstances, however striking at first, involved nothing really incredible—and so it was settled.—Miss Diana herself derived an immediate [advantage] to counterbalance her Perplexity. She must put her shawl over her shoulders, & be running about again. Tired as she was, she must instantly repair to the Hotel, to investigate the truth & offer her services.—