part in his behaviour to your sister all this time? Do you suppose him

really indifferent to her?”

“No, I cannot think that. He must and does love her I am sure.”

“But with a strange kind of tenderness, if he can leave her with such

indifference, such carelessness of the future, as you attribute to

him.”

“You must remember, my dear mother, that I have never considered this

matter as certain. I have had my doubts, I confess; but they are

fainter than they were, and they may soon be entirely done away. If we

find they correspond, every fear of mine will be removed.”

“A mighty concession indeed! If you were to see them at the altar, you

would suppose they were going to be married. Ungracious girl! But _I_

require no such proof. Nothing in my opinion has ever passed to justify

doubt; no secrecy has been attempted; all has been uniformly open and

unreserved. You cannot doubt your sister’s wishes. It must be

Willoughby therefore whom you suspect. But why? Is he not a man of

honour and feeling? Has there been any inconsistency on his side to

create alarm? can he be deceitful?”

“I hope not, I believe not,” cried Elinor. “I love Willoughby,

sincerely love him; and suspicion of his integrity cannot be more

painful to yourself than to me. It has been involuntary, and I will not

encourage it. I was startled, I confess, by the alteration in his

manners this morning;—he did not speak like himself, and did not return

your kindness with any cordiality. But all this may be explained by

such a situation of his affairs as you have supposed. He had just

parted from my sister, had seen her leave him in the greatest

affliction; and if he felt obliged, from a fear of offending Mrs.

Smith, to resist the temptation of returning here soon, and yet aware

that by declining your invitation, by saying that he was going away for

some time, he should seem to act an ungenerous, a suspicious part by

our family, he might well be embarrassed and disturbed. In such a case,

a plain and open avowal of his difficulties would have been more to his

honour I think, as well as more consistent with his general

character;—but I will not raise objections against any one’s conduct on

so illiberal a foundation, as a difference in judgment from myself, or

a deviation from what I may think right and consistent.”

“You speak very properly. Willoughby certainly does not deserve to be

suspected. Though _we_ have not known him long, he is no stranger in

this part of the world; and who has ever spoken to his disadvantage?

Had he been in a situation to act independently and marry immediately,

it might have been odd that he should leave us without acknowledging

everything to me at once: but this is not the case. It is an engagement

in some respects not prosperously begun, for their marriage must be at

a very uncertain distance; and even secrecy, as far as it can be

observed, may now be very advisable.”

They were interrupted by the entrance of Margaret; and Elinor was then

at liberty to think over the representations of her mother, to

acknowledge the probability of many, and hope for the justice of all.

They saw nothing of Marianne till dinner time, when she entered the

room and took her place at the table without saying a word. Her eyes

were red and swollen; and it seemed as if her tears were even then

restrained with difficulty. She avoided the looks of them all, could

neither eat nor speak, and after some time, on her mother’s silently

pressing her hand with tender compassion, her small degree of fortitude

was quite overcome, she burst into tears and left the room.

This violent oppression of spirits continued the whole evening. She was

without any power, because she was without any desire of command over

herself. The slightest mention of anything relative to Willoughby

overpowered her in an instant; and though her family were most

anxiously attentive to her comfort, it was impossible for them, if they

spoke at all, to keep clear of every subject which her feelings

connected with him.