"No, it does not mean taking our own way," she cried, "and if you do not understand any better than that, why should I---- But you do understand better, John," she said, her countenance again softening: "you know I want, above everything in the world, that you should approve of me and see that I am right. That is what I want! I will do what I think right; but, oh, if I could only have you with me in doing it, and know that you saw with me that it was the best, the only thing to do! Happiness lies in that, not in having one's own way."
"My dear Elinor," he said, "isn't that asking a great deal? To prevent you from doing what you think right is in nobody's power. You are of age, and I am sure my aunt will force nothing; but how can we change our opinions, our convictions, our entire points of view? There is nobody in the world I would do so much for as you, Elinor: but I cannot do that, even for you."
The hot tears were dried from her cheeks, the passion was over. She looked at him, her efforts to gain him at an end, on the equal footing of an independent individual agreeing to differ, and as strong in her own view as he could be.
"There is one thing you can do for me," she said. "Mamma knows nothing about--fashionable gossip. She is not acquainted with the wicked things that are said. If she disapproves it is only because---- Oh, I suppose because one's mother always disapproves a thing that is done without her, that she has no hand in, what she calls pledging one's self to a stranger, and not knowing his antecedents, his circumstances, and so forth! But she hasn't any definite ground for it as you--think you have, judging in the uncharitable way of the world--not remembering that if we love one another the more there is against him the more need he has of me! But all I have to ask of you, John, is not to prejudice my mother. I know you can do it if you please--a hint would be enough, an uncertain word, even hesitating when you answer a question--that would be quite enough! John, if you put things into her head----"
"You ask most extraordinary things of me," said John, turning to bay. "To tell her lies about a man whom everybody knows--to pretend I think one thing when I think quite another. Not to say that my duty is to inform her exactly what things are said, so that she may judge for herself, not let her go forth in ignorance--that is my plain duty, Elinor."