She paused over it for some time with indignant astonishment;then read it again and again;but every perusal only served to increase her abhorrence of the man,and so bitter were her feelings against him,that she dared not trust herself to speak,lest she might wound Marianne still deeper by treating their disengagement,not as a loss to her of any possible good,but as an escape from the worst and most irremediable of evils,a connection,for life,with an unprincipled man,as a deliverance the most real,a blessing the most important.
In her earnest meditations on the contents of the letter,on the depravity of that mind which could dictate it,and,probably,on the very different mind of a very different person,who had no other connection whatever with the affair than what her heart gave him with everything that passed,Elinor forgot the immediate distress of her sister,forgot that she had three letters on her lap yet unread,and so entirely forgot how long she had been in the room,that when,on hearing a carriage drive up to the door,she went to the window to see who could be coming so unreasonably early,she was all astonishment to perceive Mrs Jennings's chariot,which she knew had not been ordered till one.Determined not to quit Marianne,though hopeless of contributing,at present,to her ease,she hurried away to excuse herself from attending Mrs Jennings,on account of her sister being indisposed.Mrs Jennings,with a thoroughly good-humoured concern for its cause,admitted the excuse most readily,and Elinor,after seeing her safe off,returned to Marianne,whom she found attempting to rise from the bed,and whom she reached just in time to prevent her from falling on the floor,faint and giddy from a long want of proper rest and food;for it was many days since she had any appetite,and many nights since she had really slept;and now,when her mind was no longer supported by the fever of suspense,the consequence of all this was felt in an aching head,a weakened stomach,and general nervous faintness.A glass of wine,which Elinor procured for her directly,made her more comfortable,and she was at last able to express some sense of her kindness,by saying-
‘Poor Elinor!How unhappy I make you!’
‘I only wish,’replied her sister,‘there were anything I could do which might be of comfort to you.’
This,as everything else would have been,was too much for Marianne,who could only exclaim,in the anguish of her heart,‘O Elinor,I am miserable indeed,’before her voice was entirely lost in sobs.
Elinor could no longer witness this torrent of unresisted grief in silence.
‘Exert yourself,dear Marianne,’she cried,‘if you would not kill yourself and all who love you.Think of your mother;think of her misery while you suffer;for her sake you must exert yourself.’
‘I cannot,I cannot,’cried Marianne;‘leave me,leave me,if I distress you;leave me,hate me,forget me;but do not torture me so.Oh!how easy for those who have no sorrow of their own to talk of exertion!Happy,happy Elinor,you cannot have an idea of what I suffer.’
‘Do you call me happy,Marianne!Ah;if you knew!And can you believe me to be so while I see you so wretched!’
‘Forgive me,forgive me,’throwing her arms round her sister's neck;‘I know you feel for me;I know what a heart you have;but yet you are-you must be happy;Edward loves you-what,oh!what can do away such happiness as that!’
‘Many,many circumstances,’said Elinor solemnly.
‘No,no,no,’cried Marianne wildly;‘he loves you,and only you.You can have no grief.’
‘I can have no pleasure while I see you in this state.’
‘And you will never see me otherwise.Mine is a misery which nothing can do away.’
‘You must not talk so,Marianne.Have you no comforts?no friends?Is your loss such as leaves no opening for consolation?Much as you suffer now,think of what you would have suffered if the discovery of his character had been delayed to a later period-if your engagement had been carried on for months and months,as it might have been,before he chose to put an end to it.Every additional day of unhappy confidence,on your side,would have made the blow more dreadful.’
‘Engagement!’cried Marianne,‘there has been no engagement.’
‘No engagement!’
‘No,he is not so unworthy as you believe him.He has broken no faith with me.’
‘But he told you that he loved you?’
‘Yes-no-never-absolutely.It was every day implied,but never professedly declared.Sometimes I thought it had been-but it never was.’
‘Yet you wrote to him?’
‘Yes-could that be wrong after all that had passed?But I cannot talk.’
Elinor said no more,and turning again to the three letters which now raised a much stronger curiosity than before,directly ran over the contents of all.The first,which was what her sister had sent him on their arrival in town,was to this effect:
Berkeley Street,January.
How surprised you will be,Willoughby,on receiving this!and I think you will feel something more than surprise,when you know I am in town.An opportunity of coming hither,though with Mrs Jennings,was a temptation we could not resist.I wish you may receive this in time to come here tonight,but I will not depend on it.At any rate I shall expect you tomorrow.For the present,adieu.
Her second note,which had been written on the morning after the dance at the Middletons',was in these words:
