Austen Said:

she was better,

the necessity of her immediate removal with her infant;

her resolution of not stirring from Cleveland as long as Marianne remained ill, and of endeavouring, by her own attentive care, to supply to her the place of the mother she had taken her from;

to send the Colonel away while his love was in so much uneasiness on her sister's account, would be to deprive them both,

of every comfort;

his stay at Cleveland was necessary to herself, that she should want him to play at piquet of an evening, while Miss Dashwood was above with her sister,

Marianne would never get over it,

he should see Marianne no more.

his patient materially better. Her pulse was much stronger, and every symptom more favourable than on the preceding visit.

It was lower and quicker than ever!

The comfort of such a friend at that moment as Colonel Brandon — or such a companion for her mother, —

a companion whose judgment would guide, whose attendance must relieve, and whose friendship might soothe her! — as far as the shock of such a summons COULD be lessened to her, his presence, his manners, his assistance, would lessen it.

all relief might soon be in vain, that every thing had been delayed too long,

Marianne might probably be to HER what Charlotte was to herself,

entirely out of danger.

At ten o'clock,

or at least not much later her mother would be relieved from the dreadful suspense in which she must now be travelling towards them. The Colonel, too! — perhaps scarcely less an object of pity! — Oh! — how slow was the progress of time which yet kept them in ignorance!

he must be in liquor;

she has forgiven me already.

Marianne Dashwood was dying of a putrid fever at Cleveland — a letter that morning received from Mrs. Jennings declared her danger most imminent — the Palmers are all gone off in a fright,

an old promise about a pointer puppy.

on the irreparable injury which too early an independence and its consequent habits of idleness, dissipation, and luxury, had made in the mind, the character, the happiness, of a man who, to every advantage of person and talents, united a disposition naturally open and honest, and a feeling, affectionate temper. The world had made him extravagant and vain — Extravagance and vanity had made him cold-hearted and selfish. Vanity, while seeking its own guilty triumph at the expense of another, had involved him in a real attachment, which extravagance, or at least its offspring, necessity, had required to be sacrificed. Each faulty propensity in leading him to evil, had led him likewise to punishment. The attachment, from which against honour, against feeling, against every better interest he had outwardly torn himself, now, when no longer allowable, governed every thought; and the connection, for the sake of which he had, with little scruple, left her sister to misery, was likely to prove a source of unhappiness to himself of a far more incurable nature.

she did; — that she forgave, pitied, wished him well — was even interested in his happiness —

Willoughby, he, whom only half an hour ago she had abhorred as the most worthless of men, Willoughby, in spite of all his faults, excited a degree of commiseration for the sufferings produced by them,

now separated for ever from her family, with a tenderness, a regret, rather in proportion,

— to his wishes than to his merits.

his influence over her mind was heightened by circumstances which ought not in reason to have weight; by that person of uncommon attraction, that open, affectionate, and lively manner which it was no merit to possess; and by that still ardent love for Marianne, which it was not even innocent to indulge.

it was so, long, long before she could feel his influence less.

"poor Willoughby,"

to HIS sufferings and his constancy far more than to his rival's, the reward of her sister was due,

one of the happiest women in the world.

whether her mother ever recollected Edward.

Marianne was restored to her from a danger in which,

her own mistaken judgment in encouraging the unfortunate attachment to Willoughby, had contributed to place her;

satisfied that none founded on an impartial consideration of their age, characters, or feelings, could be given; — but her mother must always be carried away by her imagination on any interesting subject,

was such, as,

must arise from something more than his affection for Marianne, or the consciousness of its being known to others;

something more than gratitude already dawned.

an apparent composure of mind, which, in being the result as she trusted of serious reflection, must eventually lead her to contentment and cheerfulness.

That would not do. —

she should in future practice much.

the same eager fancy which had been leading her to the extreme of languid indolence and selfish repining, now at work in introducing excess into a scheme of such rational employment and virtuous self-control.

promise to Willoughby was yet unfulfilled, and feared she had that to communicate which might again unsettle the mind of Marianne, and ruin at least for a time this fair prospect of busy tranquillity.

she was sorry for him; — she wished him happy.

I should give her compliments and Mr. Ferrars's, their best compliments and service, and how sorry they was they had not time to come on and see you, but they was in a great hurry to go forwards, for they was going further down for a little while, but howsever, when they come back, they'd make sure to come and see you."

how she had changed her name since she was in these parts.

"They come straight from town,

Edward would never come near them.

they were probably going down to Mr. Pratt's, near Plymouth.

she was very well;