Austen Said:

"Nor I,"

"our situations then are alike. We have neither of us any thing to tell; you, because you do not communicate, and I, because I conceal nothing."

"Did you?"

"I do not know."

"Invited!"

to write the next morning to her mother, and hoped by awakening her fears for the health of Marianne, to procure those inquiries which had been so long delayed;

could not suppose it to be to any other person.

what he meant?

"It cannot be generally known,"

"for her own family do not know it."

"How can that be? By whom can you have heard it mentioned?"

The real state of things between Willoughby and her sister was so little known to herself, that in endeavouring to explain it, she might be as liable to say too much as too little.

Marianne's affection for Willoughby, could leave no hope of Colonel Brandon's success, whatever the event of that affection might be,

though she had never been informed by themselves of the terms on which they stood with each other, of their mutual affection she had no doubt, and of their correspondence she was not astonished to hear.

"Good heavens!"

"he is there — he is there — Oh! why does he not look at me? why cannot I speak to him?"

"Pray, pray be composed,"

"and do not betray what you feel to every body present. Perhaps he has not observed you yet."

"Good God! Willoughby, what is the meaning of this? Have you not received my letters? Will you not shake hands with me?"

"But have you not received my notes?"

"Here is some mistake I am sure — some dreadful mistake. What can be the meaning of it? Tell me, Willoughby; for heaven's sake tell me, what is the matter?"

"Go to him, Elinor,"

"and force him to come to me. Tell him I must see him again — must speak to him instantly. — I cannot rest — I shall not have a moment's peace till this is explained — some dreadful misapprehension or other. — Oh go to him this moment."

"How can that be done? No, my dearest Marianne, you must wait. This is not the place for explanations. Wait only till tomorrow."

he was gone,

would entreat Lady Middleton to take them home, as she was too miserable to stay a minute longer.

some kind of engagement had subsisted between Willoughby and Marianne

Willoughby was weary of it,

for however Marianne might still feed her own wishes, SHE could not attribute such behaviour to mistake or misapprehension of any kind. Nothing but a thorough change of sentiment could account for it.

Absence might have weakened his regard, and convenience might have determined him to overcome it, but that such a regard had formerly existed she could not bring herself to doubt.

while she could

ESTEEM

Edward as much as ever, however they might be divided in future, her mind might be always supported. But every circumstance that could embitter such an evil seemed uniting to heighten the misery of Marianne in a final separation from Willoughby — in an immediate and irreconcilable rupture with him.

"Marianne, may I ask-?"

"No, Elinor,"

"ask nothing; you will soon know all."

not to speak to her for the world.

it must come from Willoughby,

"And have you really, Ma'am, talked yourself into a persuasion of my sister's being engaged to Mr. Willoughby? I thought it had been only a joke, but so serious a question seems to imply more; and I must beg, therefore, that you will not deceive yourself any longer. I do assure you that nothing would surprise me more than to hear of their being going to be married."

"Indeed, Ma'am,"

"you are mistaken. Indeed, you are doing a very unkind thing in spreading the report, and you will find that you have though you will not believe me now."

Willoughby capable of departing so far from the appearance of every honourable and delicate feeling — so far from the common decorum of a gentleman, as to send a letter so impudently cruel: a letter which, instead of bringing with his desire of a release any professions of regret, acknowledged no breach of faith, denied all peculiar affection whatever — a letter of which every line was an insult, and which proclaimed its writer to be deep in hardened villainy.

"Poor Elinor! how unhappy I make you!"

"I only wish,"

"there were any thing I COULD do, which might be of comfort to you."

"Oh! Elinor, I am miserable, indeed,"

"Exert yourself, dear Marianne,"

"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,"

"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."