Original subtitles

(Clattering)

(Servants grunt)

No, no, I cannot stand it.

Don't look, Mama. Turn your head away.

To be reduced to being mere visitors on sufferance in one's own house!

No, indeed, I cannot endure it.

Oh, poor beloved Norland!

- (Clattering) - Look at them!

Like the hordes of an invading army!

But you must remember the house is now theirs by right.

Oh, don't talk to me of rights!

What are they compared with feelings and the concerns of the human heart?

Oh, believe me, I do understand your attitude.

But alas, strong feelings alone are of no great value in a court of law.

- Oh! - Now come, Mama.

How they can be so insensitive

as to force their way in and dispossess us with the ink scarcely dry upon the will,

I do not know.

Well, one thing is certain. I cannot bring myself to be civil to that young woman.

- No, nor I. - But, Mother!

I'm sure it is all her doing.

Oh, well.

My mind is quite made up.

I shall seek some other place for us to live.

I cannot remain here on sufferance.

What, and leave Norland?

I... I think I should die!

Fanny, my love, I have been thinking.

I feel it as an obligation

that we should make some additional provision for the girls and their mother.

After all, Norland has been their home all their lives.

Remember, John dear, they are only your half sisters,

and their mother, excellent woman though no doubt she may be,

is no blood relation at all.

Oh, yes, quite.

But it was my father's last request to me that I should assist his widow and daughters.

So you say, dear. But ten to one he was light-headed at the time.

He must have been, to persuade you to give half your fortune away from your own child.

- I... - But do exactly as you wish, of course.

The money is yours.

In that case we will settle the matter immediately.

(Fanny) Very well, John dear.

But it was not my intention to give away half this legacy, my love,

although I suppose it could be said that we were already reasonably provided for ourselves.

No, I was thinking in terms of an annuity of some sort.

An annuity?

Oh, John dear, is that wise?

I have not seen Mrs. Dashwood closely

but if you observe, people always seem to live forever

once an annuity has been settled upon them.

No, I cannot agree to that.

But the decision is entirely yours, of course.

Please ask Mrs. Dashwood and the Miss Dashwoods

if they would be kind enough to join us.

No, you are probably quite right, my love.

On second thoughts, it would be wiser, possibly, to make it a fixed amount.

And no doubt they would greatly prefer it that way.

What sum had you in mind?

Well, would you think a thousand pounds to be an adequate amount?

A thousand pounds?

I should think they would consider it a prodigious increase to their fortunes.

What brother on earth would do half as much for his sisters, I'd like to know,

even if they were his real sisters?

- You think it is too much, then? - Oh, no, indeed. Not in the least.

If that is the sum you are settled upon.

I was merely thinking that three women alone with no man to guide them,

one wouldn't like to feel they might become the prey of fortune hunters.

Oh, that is true. That is very true.

A smaller sum prudently invested

would not prove a temptation to the unscrupulous,

while in addition to what they already have,

should secure their independence if they are careful.

To be sure it would.

Indeed, I am certain your father had no thought of anything near so generous in his mind.

You are probably quite right, my love.

Goodness!

Three women alone, with no carriage and scarcely any servants?

Their housekeeping will be nothing at all.

Indeed, you can depend upon it.

They will be far better off than we are in this great house

with 20 servants and so much entertaining to be done.

As to your giving them more, it's quite absurd.

If you ask me, they will be much more able to give you something.

- (Knock at door) - Ah, here they are.

Come in.

Well, now, there is no need to extend to you a welcome to what is...

Oh.

My mother and Marianne ask me to apologize but they're very busy sewing at the moment.

They hope to be down shortly.

Indeed.

I trust that you're quite comfortably settled, Fanny?

I always think moving house is so fatiguing.

Thank you. We are getting straight by degrees.

Good, I'm so glad.

Well, now, we wish to make it quite clear -

do we not, my love? -

that though by the terms of my father's bequest

Norland has now passed into my possession,

we naturally wish to extend a very sincere welcome...

- Yes, what is it? - Oh, I beg your pardon. I... I was not aware.

- Oh, do please come in. - Ah, Edward.

May I present my wife's brother, Mr. Edward Ferrars. Miss Dashwood.

- How do you do, Mr. Ferrars? - How do you do... ma'am?

Fanny and Edward's dear mother has a very fine place not far from Tunbridge Wells.

- Is that so? - Yes, a very fine place indeed.

- (Fanny) Edward, please be seated! - Please do sit down.

I do beg your pardon.

Yes, as I was saying,

the, er... the timber alone

is considered to be some of the most valuable in the south of England.

You say he's handsome, but has he what I call an expressive face?

Oh, yes, I think so.

One can hardly credit such a thing, somehow, in one of that family.

At least he bears no resemblance at all to Fanny.

Oh, then that is enough for me. It implies everything that is amiable.

I'm sure you will both like him when you get to know him.

Like him? I almost love him already.

Oh, dearest Mama. You are incorrigible.

Oh, Elinor, my love.

I do apologize for my outburst just now and for my childish refusal to meet her.

From henceforth, I promise you I will mend my ways.

Oh, what should we do without our wise, our prudent Elinor?

But what are his interests, Elinor, and his powers of conversation?

Rather limited, I fear. As I say, he scarcely spoke a word.

Yet you liked him, eh? For you did like him a little, my love, I think, did you not?

What I was permitted to see and hear

while brother John was holding forth

about the great wealth and perfection of the Ferrars family in general,

I liked well enough, certainly.

Ah, Miss Dashwood.

Oh, am I the first down?

I was just admiring this view of the house. Were you the artist?

I was, yes.

I don't profess to be a great judge of these... matters, but it seems most excellent to me.

From where exactly did you take it? The viewpoint is most novel.

Ah, well, I am afraid my sister must take the credit for that, Mr. Ferrars.

She has a great eye for the picturesque.

I merely record what is before me as best I can.

- I'm sure you underestimate yourself. - (Marianne) Elinor!

Here she is so you can ask her yourself.

For heaven's sake, save me from brother John and that awful...

Oh!

I beg your pardon.

- Mr. Edward Ferrars, my sister Marianne. - How do you do, Miss... Marianne.

How do you do?

Mr. Ferrars was intrigued to know from which point the sketch was taken.

I was about to tell him that we could show him many others equally fine, could we not?

- You could, but I'm afraid I could not. - Marianne!

Mr. Ferrars, wise and discerning man, has paid you the compliment of admiring your work.

Please don't embarrass him by dragging me into it.

Mm. But I thought I heard the gong.

- In that case, perhaps... - Oh, no, I might well have been mistaken.

Please excuse me.

There are several other sketches of my sister's, which I'm sure you'd like to see, on that wall.

Over here?

I'm sorry, Mr. Ferrars, but you cannot possibly wish to see them.

But I do.

(Dinner gong)

Ah, good. Then we may all go in for dinner.

My fugitive years are all hasting away, And I... must ere long lie as lowly as they

With a turf on my breast and a stone at my head,

Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.

(Clears throat)

'Tis a sight to engage... me, if any thing can,

To... muse on the perishing pleasures of man;

Though his life be a dream, his enjoyments, I see,

Have a being less... durable even than he.

Bravo, bravo!

You chose well, Edward.

It's a particular favorite of Marianne's. Isn't it, my love?

Yes, Mama.

Well, now, who else will entertain us?

Elinor, may we be permitted the pleasure of hearing you sing?

Oh, I doubt very much whether you could account it a pleasure, brother, if I did.

No, Marianne is the musician in the family. She is an accomplished singer.

- Ah. Marianne? - I'm sorry, I'm afraid I have a sore throat.

Dearest, you never told me.

Well, then, perhaps the young people would like a hand at cards.

- John dear? - Yes, dear.

And what is your opinion of the novels of Mrs. Radcliffe, cousin Edward?

Well, if it's just an opinion you want, cousin, I will give it readily.

But I have to admit, in all honesty, that I haven't read them.

Do you mean you actually haven't read The Castle Of Otranto?

- (Edward) I have to confess it. I have not. - Oh!

There, now I suppose you will never speak to me again.

Oh, Marianne! One cannot possibly expect gentlemen to read such things.

- Why not, pray? - Elinor dear.

- They are intended for our sex only. - John is trying to attract your attention.

Oh, nonsense!

The differentiation of sex has nothing whatever to do with it.

Yes, Mama?

Well, now, who would care for a game of whist? Elinor?

If you wish it, Cousin Fanny, but I'm quite happy as I am.

- Marianne? - I will not play, thank you.

I always find cards rather a poor substitute for intelligent conversation.

- Edward? - Oh, I'm no good at intelligent conversation.

I'm for cards every time.

Good! Splendid.

Well, now, perhaps Edward and Elinor would be content to play two-handed, eh?

Elinor dear?

If Mr. Ferrars would not find that too tedious, yes, of course, Mama.

Tedious? Indeed no.

I should like it of all things.

Now, shall we play whist or shall we play something else?

Well, then, we shall leave them to their game, shall we?

John dear, be so good as to ring for a lamp.

Yes.

How dark it is getting in the evenings, is it not?

We shall have to have a fire very soon, no doubt.

(Marianne) I see he's quite made you his confidante, sister.

I do not attempt to deny that I have come to think very highly of him,

that I like and, indeed, greatly esteem him.

Like? Esteem him?

Oh, cold-hearted Elinor!

Nay, worse than cold-hearted! Ashamed of being otherwise!

Use such language again, and I shall leave the room immediately.

Dear Marianne.

I meant no offense to you in speaking so quietly of my feelings.

Well, believe me, they are stronger than I have stated.

But I feel at this stage that it would be premature, even a little immodest,

to disclose them too fully even to myself.

Well, if you're not already engaged, I'm pretty certain you soon will be.

Dear Marianne! I really must ask you to curb that eager imagination of yours.

Oh, fie, Elinor! He's at least as partial to you as you are to him.

Go on, Elinor, admit it.

Well, sometimes I think so, yes.

Then at others there's a kind of coolness.

No, not a coolness. A reserve.

A... a want of candor, almost, that disturbs me a little.

It is not like him.

No, perhaps I do him an injustice. It is my imagination, no doubt.

But how can you bear the thought of leaving Norland now?

I almost hope Mama's letter remains unanswered.

Why? The situation is unaltered.

Oh, Elinor! How can you pretend such a thing?

What I mean is that if Edward's feelings will not survive my mere removal to another district,

then the sooner that I am acquainted with the fact, the better.

A cottage, you say? And where is it situated?

Near Exeter on the estate of a kinsman of mine, Sir John Middleton.

Sir John Middleton! Now, he is a man of considerable substance, I believe.

So I believe.

I was not aware that he was a kinsman of yours.

You would do well to place yourself under his protection, I would say, very well indeed.

But Devonshire is a great way off. Must you really go so far?

- (Mrs. Dashwood) I'm afraid so. - Oh, dear.

If you are thinking of the expense of the removal, my love,

I'm sure a man in Sir John Middleton's position would be prepared to assist.

We have no spare transport or labor here, as I expect you realize.

(Mrs. Dashwood) Of course. I wouldn't hear of such a thing.

But I hope once we're properly settled at Barton,

we could persuade you to pay us a visit.

Oh, that's very civil of you, I'm sure,

though I am afraid we shall not be in a position

to make such long and costly journeys ourselves for a considerable time to come.

Yes, we shall have to measure our expenses very carefully. Very carefully indeed.

Edward, then.

I'm sure that the girls will be quite heartbroken if you are not our very first guest.

Thank you, Mrs. Dashwood.

I'm only sorry that you're going so far. However I shall be very glad...

Edward, I am afraid, is not free, ma'am. He has his career to think of.

Indeed.

This is news.

I was not aware that I had one.

Mother and Fanny are obsessed with the notion that I should enter Parliament, Mrs. Dashwood,

regardless of the fact that I am quite incapable of...

making a speech, to save my life.

They would make me a man of consequence.

Or at least have me drive around London in a barouche with the appearance of one.

I hope, Edward, your poor mother never gets to hear of such a statement.

She will not, Fanny dear, unless someone repeats it to her.

Well, then, it only remains for me to say once again

that we shall expect you at Barton in the very near future, Edward.

And to thank you, my dears, for putting up with us at Norland for so long.

When he comes, I shall leave you.

Why? He will want to say goodbye to you as well as to me.

- (Door opens) - (Footsteps)

Oh, just these two, please, Charles. We'll have them inside, I think, if there's room.

Ah, here you are. Good. Now I can say my farewells to you both.

Adieu, dear Edward. I shall not say farewell.

- Oh, don't run away. - No, please. I'm sorry. There's something...

I think perhaps we should all go. Edward and I will come with you.

It's time we were in the carriage if we're to reach Midhurst by midday.

Then I shall follow you in a moment.

Will you not come too?

Please, Edward.

Can you not see that I wish to be alone?

Dear Norland.

Farewell.

Sweet garden.

Goodbye, curtains.

Oh, happy, happy house!

(Mrs. Dashwood) Marianne! The horses are getting restive.

Marianne!

Oh.

Welcome to Barton Cottage, ma'am, and young ladies.

Thank you. Mary, isn't it?

That's right, ma'am.

Oh, what a beautiful fire!

Oh, goodness, what a welcome sight! I'm quite frozen.

Well, now.

There's nothing like a good fire. That's what I always say.

But there, you'd like some nice tea, I expect.

Oh, thank you. Thank you.

And I've taken the liberty of making you one of my lardy cakes.

Indeed? How kind.

Sir John, he always says, "Mary," he says,

"there isn't anyone could make a lardy what like you can."

That's what he says. Look.

Well, now. You'd like to take your things off, I expect.

Thank you.

Thank you, Mary.

Thank you.

Oh.

(Door shuts)

Well, what in heaven's name is a lardy cake?

Marianne, you're very silent.

Poor dear, the motion of traveling never did agree with you.

Never mind, a hot cup of tea'll soon settle you, no doubt.

It's all right, Mama, I'm not distressed in body, merely in spirit.

Marianne, you shouldn't think so much of what we've left behind as what lies ahead.

Elinor, how can you say that when we've left all that is most dear?

If I do not weep, it is merely for the good reason that weeping will not help our case.

Besides, we have much to be thankful for, Mama, have we not?

Oh, yes, indeed, my love.

A new life, new surroundings, new acquaintances.

New acquaintances? In Devonshire?

Why not?

Devonshire is peopled surely much in the same manner as Sussex.

And the Middletons have been most cordial in their letters.

Well, they've lived here for generations.

I am sure they are quite a numerous circle.

- (Sir John) Well, Mary, my dear! - Oh, I think I hear Sir John. Quick.

Oh, no.

- In the sitting room? - That's right.

Well, well! Cousin Dashwood, eh?

Welcome to Devonshire, my dears!

Well, now, do I get a kiss? Mm!

John dear, Mrs. Dashwood is probably fatigued after her long journey.

Oh, nonsense! You ain't fatigued, are you, my dear? Ooh, I should have introduced you.

- This is my wife, Lady Middleton. - How do you do?

- John dear, what has become of little William? - Oh, that boy. He's a regular rascal.

He'll be all right, I expect, my dear. These are the two young ladies, eh?

Yes, may I introduce Miss Dashwood. Miss Marianne.

Er... Lady Middleton. Sir John.

Oh, how do you do, my dears? How do you do?

Well, gracious me!

I was hardly expecting to see two such fine young creatures. No, indeed not.

I can see all the gentlemen are going to be set by the ears now, my love, eh?

(Chickens clucking)

Just one moment.

I thought I heard something.

- (Chickens clucking) - There, I knew it.

He's in the yard. He will get his feet wet.

Leave the boy alone, my dear. He'll come to no harm.

John, how can you say that when you know how delicate the boy is?

Well, we must conclude our business briefly and be off home.

Now, our object in greeting you, cousins,

was to extend a most hearty welcome

to come and dine with us at the hall every day until you're well settled in.

- There, how's that, then? - Sir John, you are too generous.

Oh, nonsense, nonsense! We won't take no for an answer. Will we, dear?

Well, now, that's all arranged. The carriage will call for you at 3:30.

Oh! You will excuse the smallness of the company at such short notice.

Merely my old friend Colonel Brandon and my wife's mother.

No young gallants, I'm afraid, my dears,

but we old 'uns will do our best to give you a jolly evening in our own style.

- Are we leaving? - Yeah, well, come on, my dear.

Mustn't keep these good people about any longer.

I think you fret about that boy a little too much, my dear.

- Bye-bye, ladies, then. - (Door shuts)

Oh, lovely!

Simply lovely!

- (Plays solemn chord) - Shh!

Brandon, another glass of claret.

- Come on, Colonel, you've only had the one. - (Marianne singing)

What? Oh, is it?

Oh, right you are, then.

Righty-ho.

Sorry.

Mrs. Dashwood. May I come and sit down here?

Oh, Mrs. Jennings.

(Chuckles) You certainly have some fine girls, Mrs. Dashwood.

Ain't you proud, eh?

That's very kind of you, Mrs. Jennings.

Mama, shh.

Two lovely girls, and I should know, because I have two fine girls myself.

There's Mary here,

and another, younger but also married, thank goodness.

(Chuckles) Ooh, the relief!

And they both have done remarkably well for themselves, I do assure you.

Oh, the anxiety we poor mothers have to undergo, eh, Mrs. Dashwood?

- Bravo! Thank you, Miss Dashwood. - Lovely.

Oh, bravo, my dear! Encore, encore, encore!

Now, may we have the one about the fellow with the harp?

You know, what a lovely piece!

- You know the one I mean, a lovely song. - That's what I've just sung, Sir John.

Is it, my dear? Well, sing him again, then. Sing him again.

- That was beautifully sung. - Look, Colonel Brandon.

(Gasps) I declare, he's quite taken a fancy to your Miss Marianne already.

Oh, I always know. You ask either of my girls. You can't deceive me.

And I can assure you, Mrs. Dashwood, you'd do very well to get the Colonel as a son-in-law.

- Oh, really, Mrs. Jennings. - He's a very fine, honorable man.

A shade too solemn for my taste, of course,

and hardly what you could call a young man these days.

But there's property there, Mrs. Dashwood. Oh, there's property there all right.

- Please, Mama. - Very well, dear.

- If you would excuse us, Lady Middleton. - (Sir John) Oh, but you're not going?

- What a disappointment! - We cannot allow this, Brandon!

- We're having such a wonderful time. - We're rather fatigued.

- Oh, very well, if you must. - They must be exhausted.

Now, tomorrow night, I think I can promise you some real young company.

Oh, tomorrow night we'll have a right old to-do with all the neighborhood, eh?

- Your singing was lovely, dear. - Goodbye, Mrs. Jennings.

Good night, my dear. A little bird tells me that someone's left her heart in Sussex.

Is that not so, eh? (Laughs)

I think I see someone coloring up a little, do I not?

- Do you, Mrs. Jennings? - I think not, madam.

Blushing is not one of my sister's many accomplishments.

Oh, there, now! That's me thoroughly put in my place, is it not?

Well said, my dear.

Oh, well, I suppose we must let 'em go.

Till tomorrow, then. And come early, mind.

(Mrs. Jennings chuckles) Lovely girls.

Simply wonderful to have young people in the house.

- Darling, are you going out? - Yes, soon as the rain eases a little.

You know, do you not, my love,

that Sir John spoke of walking down later with Colonel Brandon?

Yes, I do, and that, to be quite honest, is one of the reasons for my walk.

Oh, Marianne, how unkind you sometimes are in your judgments.

I know Sir John may be a little overpowering but even you must admit he has a kind heart.

Oh, Mama!

Well, if that's not damning with faint praise...

Well, Colonel Brandon, then. He seems a genuine sort of man.

And serious enough even for you, my love.

Mrs. Jennings likes to laugh at him.

Now, that's what I call really unkind, to make sport of a man of his age.

- He can't help his years, poor fellow. - My dear girl.

You speak of him as though he were an old man.

Well, so he is.

Oh, my dearest girl, he cannot be more than 35 or 36 at the most.

Oh, I'm not so concerned with mere years.

But did you not notice that he spoke of nothing but rheumatism and flannel lined waistcoats?

Well, I mean, that to me is old age.

Oh, but let us not speak of the Colonel.

It's Edward's strange behavior that fills me so with apprehension.

Still no letter this morning.

It's not so very long since we were at Norland.

Not long? You call two whole weeks not long?

Really, much as I like Edward, there's a dreadful want of ardor about him

that would not suit me at all, I'm afraid.

Poor Elinor.

She puts a brave face on it but I can see that underneath it she suffers.

Come, Marianne, if we are to go walking then I think we should do so before it rains again.

Yes, let us, by all means!

Oh, Elinor!

What a subject for your pencil!

Elinor?

Oh, I think I felt a spot of rain.

If only there was something picturesque here in the foreground.

An ivy-clad ruin or something.

There. Do you not see it in your mind's eye?

I felt another. It is, it's raining.

Oh, pooh. It's nothing. It'll pass.

Yes, and in the meantime this dress will be ruined.

All right. Let's shelter for a moment under that tree.

Come on.

Oh, Marianne!

Oh, is there a sensation more splendid? Come on!

- Marianne, be careful! - Ow!

What have you done? Are you all right?

My ankle.

- I've twisted my ankle. - Keep still. Let me take your shoe.

- Is she much hurt? - Sir!

I saw you running down the hill then I heard a cry.

No, really, I'm quite all right, thank you.

- It's no good, you cannot... - That won't do at all. Come along now.

- Oh, please! - Allow me, please.

Oh, sir, can you? Is she not too heavy?

Heavy? No, she's as light as a feather.

- Oh, your gun. - Leave that. It'll come to no harm.

But won't it get rusty?

In here on the sofa, if you please.

- Here? - Yes.

- There. - Ow.

- I'm sorry. - It's all right.

- There we are, then, safe at last. - Oh, poor soul.

She might have dashed her brains out.

Some water, please, Mary, and some strips of rag for a cold compress.

Very well, ma'am.

- Sir, I don't know how to thank you enough. - Oh, yes, thank you.

And a thousand apologies for my foolishness.

No apologies required, I can assure you.

But, please, no more running down hills unless you're certain that I am in attendance.

(Chuckles)

Oh, but you cannot go like this, sir, without our having thanked you properly.

Well, I must. Besides, I'm in no fit state to be amongst ladies.

Oh, thank you.

- His name, Mama. - Yes, dear.

At least, sir, perhaps you will tell us to whom we are so much indebted?

Oh, of course. I'm sorry. My name is Willoughby, ma'am.

And you may find me, for the next few weeks at least, down at Allenham House

which is a mile or so along the road.

But I hope you will permit me to call again tomorrow

to make my inquiries after the invalid.

You will always be more than welcome here, sir, I can assure you.

Thank you.

- Mr. Willoughby. - Good day.

I came merely to make my inquiries after the invalid.

The invalid, as you see, is an invalid no longer.

No, no, no, please, not too rapid a recovery, I beg of you.

I've made it my intention to ride by every day, with your permission.

So long as your health is a matter of anxiety, permit me a few aches and pains, please.

Oh, well, as you wish.

If you will excuse me, there are several things I've promised to do for my mother.

Elinor, don't go, just when Mr. Willoughby has come.

Oh, your sister will have many opportunities to see me again, I'm afraid.

(Willoughby) Never fear.

Willoughby! Oh, yeah, to be sure I know him!

So he's at Allenham, is he? Oh, this is capital news!

I must ride over and ask him to join our picnic.

What sort of a young man is he?

Oh, as good a fellow as ever lived, I can assure you, ma'am.

He's a very decent shot and you won't find a bolder rider in England.

But what are his pursuits, his talents, his genius?

Well, upon my soul, I don't know about his genius, as you call it.

I only know he has the nicest little pointer bitch as ever lived.

But who is he and where does he come from?

Ah, now, as to that, I can soon tell you.

Allenham is not his, but he will inherit when the present owner dies, so they say.

And he already has a pretty little estate up Somerset way, I'm told.

So I can assure you young ladies he's quite a catch.

Mr. Willoughby need have no fears of my girls, cousin.

Catching young men, as you call it, be they never so rich,

is not an employment to which they have been brought up.

- Thank you, Mama. - Oh!

But they couldn't do better than catch young Willoughby, ma'am.

Why, he's one of the best fellows alive, I can assure you!

Well, last Christmas, at a little hop we had at the Park,

he danced from eight o'clock till four in the morning without once sitting down.

Did he? And with spirit, with elegance?

Oh, yeah, and then eight next morning he was up again and in the saddle.

So that'll show you the sort of fellow he is, ma'am.

That is how a man should be.

Whatever his occupation, he should pursue it to the uttermost, without thought of fatigue.

Oh! So that's how it is, eh? That's how it is.

Poor old Brandon. His nose is quite out of joint already, eh?

I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Sir John.

Isn't Miss Elinor here going to be allowed a chance

whilst you set your cap at all the men, eh?

That is an expression I particularly dislike, Sir John.

If its use could ever have been deemed at all witty, that time has long since passed.

- Marianne dear! - (Sir John) Oh, so that's it, is it?

Touched thee raw a little, have I, my dear?

(Willoughby) Miss Marianne!

Oh, I didn't know you'd come.

I've come as usual to make my inquiries.

Well, you can see for yourself how greatly improved I am.

See, I no longer need support.

- I see nothing of the sort. - (Sighs)

But... but, please, let your walking stick be me.

Thank you. Thank you indeed.

It seems I... I was a little too sanguine in my hopes.

That is a very excellent fault.

Colonel Brandon!

You've come to inquire after my sister, no doubt. How kind.

I have, but I gather that I am forestalled.

Er... she has another visitor, yes. But let me go and tell her that you're here.

No, no, please, do not disturb her.

- But after you've walked here especially... - That is no great matter.

Besides, I have a second purpose in calling,

to know if you and your sister would care to join the excursion Sir John and I have arranged

to my brother-in-law's house, Whitwell, on Friday.

I'm sure we would both be delighted, Colonel Brandon.

I'm afraid I can't promise you much young and lively society, Miss Dashwood.

However, if you or your sister would care to extend the invitation to Willoughby,

please feel free to do so.

- To Willoughby? You know him, then? - Yes, I know him.

In that case, why not ask him yourself?

No, I should prefer that either your sister or yourself should do so.

Very well, Colonel Brandon, if that is your feeling.

- Thank you. I'm greatly obliged to you. - Not at all.

Well, I...

If you will not join my sister in the garden, will you not sit here for a moment?

That's very kind, but I mustn't detain you.

However, I must confess that I did hope for the opportunity to speak to you, Miss Dashwood.

To me?

Er... your sister is a person of very strong and fixed ideas, I think.

Oh, dear. What has she been saying now?

She doesn't approve of such things as second attachments, I believe?

No, her opinions are all romantic.

So in her eyes all such attachments are equally false.

She makes no distinction for those unfortunate people

who may have been disappointed in their first choice.

It isn't so much that she doesn't approve of such attachments.

She doesn't admit that they can exist.

Well, to her, love is something which comes only once in a lifetime.

If you will instruct me in the art of horsemanship,

then I will return the compliment, if I may, by educating you in your taste for literature.

Well, Miss Marianne,

I am an open book.

Write upon it what you will.

You must not take too much notice of her, Colonel Brandon.

Her ideas are extremely romantic and she is, of course, very young.

There is something very affecting about the prejudices of a young mind, I always think.

My sister's enthusiasms are indeed rather strong.

I fear they sometimes have the unfortunate appearance of setting propriety at naught.

But a better acquaintance with the world at large

will, I hope, bring about some modification.

One can only hope and pray that they do not receive too sudden and too cruel a setback.

Indeed.

For when the romantic refinements of a young mind at last are obliged to give way,

then is the danger.

No, no, no, I insist.

Nobody who is unfamiliar with the poems of Cowper

can possibly claim to have a properly educated mind.

Come, come, Miss Marianne. You're very hard on a fellow.

I have his complete works.

I shall lend them to you volume by volume

and insist that you read them, every line, from cover to cover.

Well, it'll be a labor of love, I can assure you.

Pray don't move.

I came merely to tell you that Colonel Brandon has invited us all to a picnic

at Whitwell on Friday.

- Is it not kind of him? - Brandon? Has he been here?

Invited us all? Does that include Willoughby?

Oh, he particularly mentioned Mr. Willoughby, yes, if he would care to come.

Oh, you will come, won't you?

Well, since you ask me, Miss Marianne, indeed I will.

I think it extremely civil of the Colonel.

He inquired particularly after you, Marianne.

- Hm. - (Elinor) He's a good-hearted man.

"Poor old Brandon." That's what everyone says of him.

He has everybody's good word and nobody's notice.

He's the kind of man whom everybody's delighted to see

- and nobody remembers to talk to. - That is exactly what I think.

On the contrary, I particularly enjoy talking to him.

He's seen much of the world and he has a thinking mind.

- That must always be an attraction to me. - Well...

Yes, Marianne, even in a man of between 30 and 40.

Miss Marianne, I see your sister is in a saucy mood and spoiling for a fight.

So I shall retire while I yet may.

Well, goodbye, then, ladies, until Friday.

Goodbye.

(Elinor) Goodbye, Mr. Willoughby.

Well, Marianne, you've tried him on Pope, Cowper and Sir Walter Scott.

I think for one morning you've done pretty well.

You must admit that he has great enthusiasm.

Oh, yes, and that he's very handsome.

Oh, Elinor, he's promised to give me a horse so that we may ride together.

A horse? You didn't say you would accept it, I hope?

Well, why not? Oh, the added expense of a groom will be a mere trifle.

Oh, Elinor, think of it. Galloping over those splendid downs.

- You shall share it with me. - Thank you.

But I must say, I seriously question the propriety of such a present

from a man you hardly know.

You're mistaken, Elinor dear, in thinking I know little of Willoughby.

Our acquaintance has not been long, I grant you,

but days and hours have nothing to do with it.

Oh, Elinor, if only you could hear a word of Edward,

my cup of happiness would indeed be full.

Are we all ready, then? The horses'll be around in a moment.

- Where is little William? - How are we getting on?

Husband, have you seen him?

I expect he'll be all right, my dear. Now, then, who's coming with us, eh?

Oh, dear. I only hope that girl didn't give him too rich a breakfast.

A long carriage journey always makes him so unwell, poor lamb.

Miss Dashwood, you will come in with us, I hope?

Wouldn't you rather have one of your own family, madam?

- Certainly not. We'd be delighted. - My dears!

Mr. Willoughby has been most adroit, I see.

He's brought along his phaeton with room for one passenger only.

I think we need not ask who that will be, hey?

Come along!

- Here come the horses! Come along! - One moment, please.

Oh, come along, Brandon. I didn't see you over there. Come along.

I'm sorry. I'm afraid our excursion will have to be canceled.

- Canceled? - I have to return to London immediately.

- What, today? - Yes, today, I'm afraid. Excuse me.

Oh, my dear! I'll never survive the disappointment.

That is typical of the man.

There are some people who cannot bear the prospect of a day's pleasure.

No doubt he's fearful of catching cold or something.

But this is infuriating.

Shh. He won't spoil our day together.

I've got a plan of my own.

Come on.

- I know what the Colonel's business is. - Mrs. Jennings, I...

It concerns a certain young lady in London, a very near relative.

- I... - They do say she's his natural daughter.

- Mrs. Jennings... - Hello! What's this, then, eh?

Our young friends have gone off without waiting for the starter's gun.

- That's capital! That's the spirit I like to see. - I knew there was romance in the air.

Yoiks! Yoiks!

Tally-ho! Tally-ho!