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her that they contained nothing but what any one would have
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written in the same situation。
“I felt myself；” she added； “to be as solemnly engaged to him； as
if the strictest legal covenant had bound us to each other。”
“I can believe it；” said Elinor； “but unfortunately he did not feel
the same。”
“He did feel the same； Elinor—for weeks and weeks he felt it。 I
know he did。 Whatever may have changed him now； （and nothing
but the blackest art employed against me can have done it）； I was
once as dear to him as my own soul could wish。 This lock of hair；
which now he can so readily give up； was begged of me with the
most earnest supplication。 Had you seen his look； his manner； had
you heard his voice at that moment！ Have you forgot the last
evening of our being together at Barton？ The morning that we
parted too！ When he told me that it might be many weeks before
we met again—his distress—can I ever forget his distress？” For a
moment or two she could say no more； but when this emotion had
passed away； she added； in a firmer tone；
“Elinor； I have been cruelly used； but not by Willoughby。”
“Dearest Marianne； who but himself？ By whom can he have
been instigated？”
“By all the world； rather than by his own heart。 I could rather
believe every creature of my acquaintance leagued together to
ruin me in his opinion； than believe his nature capable of such
cruelty。 This woman of whom he writes—whoever she be—or any
one； in short； but your own dear self； mama； and Edward； may
have been so barbarous to bely me。 Beyond you three； is there a
creature in the world whom I would not rather suspect of evil than
Willoughby； whose heart I know so well？”
Elinor would not contend； and only replied； “Whoever may
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have been so detestably your enemy； let them be cheated of their
malignant triumph； my dear sister； by seeing how nobly the
consciousness of your own innocence and good intentions
supports your spirits。 It is a reasonable and laudable pride which
resists such malevolence。”
“No； no；” cried Marianne； “misery such as mine has no pride。 I
care not who knows that I am wretched。 The triumph of seeing me
so may be open to all the world。 Elinor； Elinor； they who suffer
little may be proud and independent as they like—may resist
insult； or return mortification—but I cannot。 I must feel—I must
be wretched—and they are welcome to enjoy the consciousness of
it that can。”
“But for my mother’s sake and mine—”
“I would do more than for my own。 But to appear happy when I
am so miserable—Oh！ who can require it？”
Again they were both silent。 Elinor was employed in walking
thoughtfully from the fire to the window； from the window to the
fire； without knowing that she received warmth from one； or
discerning objects through the other； and Marianne； seated at the
foot of the bed； with her head leaning against one of its posts；
again took up Willoughby’s letter； and； after shuddering over
every sentence； exclaimed—
“It is too much！ Oh； Willoughby； Willoughby； could this be
yours！ Cruel； cruel—nothing can acquit you。 Elinor； nothing can。
Whatever he might have heard against me—ought he not to have
suspended his belief？ ought he not to have told me of it； to have
given me the power of clearing myself？ ‘The lock of hair；
（repeating it from the letter；） which you so obligingly bestowed on
me’—That is unpardonable。 Willoughby； where was your heart
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when you wrote those words？ Oh； barbarously insolent！—Elinor；
can he be justified？”
“No； Marianne； in no possible way。”
“And yet this woman—who knows what her art may have
been？—how long it may have been premeditated； and how deeply
contrived by her！—Who is she？—Who can she be？—Whom did I
ever hear him talk of as young and attractive among his female
acquaintance？—Oh！ no one； no one—he talked to me only of
myself。”
Another pause ensued； Marianne was greatly agitated； and it
ended thus。
“Elinor； I must go home。 I must go and comfort mama。 Can not
we be gone to…morrow？”
“To…morrow； Marianne！”
“Yes； why should I stay here？ I came only for Willoughby’s
sake—and now who cares for me？ Who regards me？”
“It would be impossible to go to…morrow。 We owe Mrs。 Jennings
much more than civility； and civility of the commonest kind must
prevent such a hasty removal as that。”
“Well then； another day or two； perhaps； but I cannot stay here
long； I cannot stay to endure the questions and remarks of all
these people。 The Middletons and Palmers—how am I to bear
their pity？ The pity of such a woman as Lady Middleton！ Oh； what
would he say to that！”
Elinor advised her to lie down again； and for a moment she did
so； but no attitude could give her ease； and in restless pain of mind
and body she moved from one posture to another； till growing
more and more hysterical； her sister could with difficulty keep her
on the bed at all； and for some time was fearful of being
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constrained to call for assistance。 Some lavender drops； however；
which she was at length persuaded to take； were of use； and from
that time till Mrs。 Jennings returned； she continued on the bed
quiet and motionless。
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CHAPTER VIII
rs。 Jennings came immediately to their room on her
return； and without waiting to have her request of
M
admittance answered； opened the door and walked in
with a look of real concern。
“How do you do my dear？”—said she in a voice of great
compassion to Marianne； who turned away her face without
attempting to answer。
“How is she； Miss Dashwood？—Poor thing！ she looks very
bad。—No wonder。 Ay； it is but too true。 He is to be married very
soon—a good…for…nothing fellow！ I have no patience with him。 Mrs。
Taylor told me of it half an hour ago； and she was told it by a
particular friend of Miss Grey herself； else I am sure I should not
have believed it； and I was almost ready to sink as it was。 Well；
said I； all I can say is； that if this be true； he has used a young lady
of my acquaintance abominably ill； and I wish with all my soul his
wife may plague his heart out。 And so I shall always say； my dear；
you may depend on it。 I have no notion of men’s going on in this
way； and if ever I meet him again； I will give him such a dressing
as he has not had this many a day。 But there is one comfort； my
dear Miss Marianne； he is not the only young man in the world
worth having； and with your pretty face you will never want
admirers。 Well； poor thing！ I won’t disturb her any longer； for she
had better have her cry out at once and have done with。 The
Parrys and Sandersons luckily are coming tonight you know； and
that will amuse her。”
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