Of the numerous domestic circles of her father's kin, that with which
she was the least familiar, because it was the poorest, had sprung from
the marriage of one of her father's sisters with a Wiltshire gentleman
named Hardy McQuinch, who had a small patrimony, a habit of farming, and
a love of hunting. In the estimation of the peasantry, who would not
associate lands, horses, and a carriage, with want of money, he was a
rich man; but Mrs. McQuinch found it hard to live like a lady on their
income, and had worn many lines into her face by constantly and vainly
wishing that she could afford to give a ball every season, to get a new
carriage, and to appear at church with her daughters in new dresses
oftener than twice a year. Her two eldest girls were plump and pleasant,
good riders and hearty eaters; and she had reasonable hopes of marrying
them to prosperous country gentlemen.

Elinor, her third and only other child, was one of her troubles. At an
early age it was her practice, once a week or thereabouts, to disappear
in the forenoon; be searched anxiously for all day; and return with a
torn frock and dirty face at about six o'clock in the afternoon. She was
stubborn, rebellious, and passionate under reproof or chastisement:
governesses had left the house because of her; and from one school she
had run away, from another eloped with a choir boy who wrote verses. Him
she deserted in a fit of jealousy, quarter of an hour after her escape
from school. The only one of her tastes that conduced to the peace of
the house was for reading; and even this made her mother uneasy; for the
books she liked best were fit, in Mrs. McQuinch's opinion, for the
bookcase only. Elinor read openly what she could obtain by asking, such
as Lamb's Tales from Shakespear, and The Pilgrim's Progress. The Arabian
Nights Entertainments were sternly refused her; so she read them by
stealth; and from that day there was always a collection of books,
borrowed from friends, or filched from the upper shelf in the library,