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married。 Relate only what in your conscience you think necessary
for me to hear。”
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Jane Austen： Sense and Sensibility 364
“Marianne’s note； by assuring me that I was still as dear to her
as in former days； that in spite of the many； many weeks we had
been separated； she was as constant in her own feelings； and as
full of faith in the constancy of mine as ever； awakened all my
remorse。 I say awakened； because time and London； business and
dissipation； had in some measure quieted it； and I had been
growing a fine hardened villain； fancying myself indifferent to her；
and chusing to fancy that she too must have become indifferent to
me； talking to myself of our past attachment as a mere idle； trifling
business； shrugging up my shoulders in proof of its being so； and
silencing every reproach； overcoming every scruple； by secretly
saying now and then； ‘I shall be heartily glad to hear she is well
married。’—But this note made me know myself better。 I felt that
she was infinitely dearer to me than any other woman in the
world； and that I was using her infamously。 But every thing was
then just settled between Miss Grey and me。 To retreat was
impossible。 All that I had to do； was to avoid you both。 I sent no
answer to Marianne； intending by that to preserve myself from her
farther notice； and for some time I was even determined not to call
in Berkeley…street；—but at last； judging it wiser to affect the air of
a cool； common acquaintance than anything else； I watched you all
safely out of the house one morning； and left my name。”
“Watched us out of the house！”
“Even so。 You would be surprised to hear how often I watched
you； how often I was on the point of falling in with you。 I have
entered many a shop to avoid your sight； as the carriage drove by。
Lodging as I did in Bond…street； there was hardly a day in which I
did not catch a glimpse of one or other of you； and nothing but the
most constant watchfulness on my side； a most invariably
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prevailing desire to keep out of your sight； could have separated us
so long。 I avoided the Middletons as much as possible； as well as
everybody else who was likely to prove an acquaintance in
common。 Not aware of their being in town； however； I blundered
on Sir John； I believe； the first day of his coming； and the day after
I had called at Mrs。 Jennings’s。 He asked me to a party； a dance at
his house in the evening。—Had he not told me as an inducement
that you and your sister were to be there； I should have felt it too
certain a thing； to trust myself near him。 The next morning
brought another short note from Marianne—still affectionate；
open； artless； confiding—everything that could make my conduct
most hateful。 I could not answer it。 I tried—but could not frame a
sentence。 But I thought of her； I believe； every moment of the day。
If you can pity me； Miss Dashwood； pity my situation as it was
then。 With my head and heart full of your sister； I was forced to
play the happy lover to another woman！—Those three or four
weeks were worse than all。 Well； at last； as I need not tell you； you
were forced on me； and what a sweet figure I cut！—what an
evening of agony it was！—Marianne； beautiful as an angel on one
side； calling me Willoughby in such a tone！—Oh； God！—holding
out her hand to me； asking me for an explanation； with those
bewitching eyes fixed in such speaking solicitude on my face！—
and Sophia； jealous as the devil on the other hand； looking all that
was—Well； it does not signify； it is over now。— Such an evening！—
I ran away from you all as soon as I could； but not before I had
seen Marianne’s sweet face as white as death。—That was the last；
last look I ever had of her；—the last manner in which she
appeared to me。 It was a horrid sight！—yet when I thought of her
to…day as really dying； it was a kind of comfort to me to imagine
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that I knew exactly how she would appear to those； who saw her
last in this world。 She was before me； constantly before me； as I
travelled； in the same look and hue。”
A short pause of mutual thoughtfulness succeeded。 Willoughby
first rousing himself； broke it thus：
“Well； let me make haste and be gone。 Your sister is certainly
better； certainly out of danger？”
“We are assured of it。”
“Your poor mother； too！—doting on Marianne。”
“But the letter； Mr。 Willoughby； your own letter； have you any
thing to say about that？”
“Yes； yes； that in particular。 Your sister wrote to me again； you
know； the very next morning。 You saw what she said。 I was
breakfasting at the Ellisons；—and her letter； with some others；
was brought to me there from my lodgings。 It happened to catch
Sophia’s eye before it caught mine—and its size； the elegance of
the paper； the hand…writing altogether； immediately gave her a
suspicion。 Some vague report had reached her before of my
attachment to some young lady in Devonshire； and what had
passed within her observation the preceding evening had marked
who the young lady was； and made her more jealous than ever。
Affecting that air of playfulness； therefore； which is delightful in a
woman one loves； she opened the letter directly； and read its
contents。 She was well paid for her impudence。 She read what
made her wretched。 Her wretchedness I could have borne； but her
passion—her malice—At all events it must be appeased。 And； in
short—what do you think of my wife’s style of letter…writing？—
delicate—tender—truly feminine—was it not？”
“Your wife！—The letter was in your own hand…writing。”
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“Yes； but I had only the credit of servilely copying such
sentences as I was ashamed to put my name to。 The original was
all her own—her own happy thoughts and gentle diction。 But what
could I do！—we were engaged； every thing in preparation； the day
almost fixed—But I am talking like a fool。 Preparation！—day！—In
honest words； her money was necessary to me； and in a situation
like mine； any thing was to be done to prevent a rupture。 And after
all； what did it signify to my character in the opinion of Marianne
and her friends； in what language my answer was couched？—It
must have been only to one end。 My business was to declare
myself a scoundrel； and whether I did it with a bow or a bluster
was of little importance。—‘I am ruined for ever in their opinion—’
said I to myself—‘I am shut out for ever from their society； they
already think me an unprincipled fellow； this letter will only make
them think me a blackguard one。’ Such were my reasonings； as； in
a sort of desperate carelessness； I copied my wife’s words； and
parted with the last relics of Marianne。 Her three notes—unluckily
they were all in my pocketbook； or I should have denied their
existence； and hoarded them for ever—I was forced to put them
up； and could not even kiss them。 And the lock of hair—that too I
had always carried about me in the same pocket…book； which was
now searched by Madam with the most ingratiating virulence；—
the dear lock—all； every memento was torn from me。”
“You are very wrong； Mr。 Willoughby； ver