and we must acknowledge that it could not be maintained if
their correspondence were to pass through Sir John's hands."

Elinor could not deny the truth of this, and she tried
to find in it a motive sufficient for their silence.
But there was one method so direct, so simple, and in
her opinion so eligible of knowing the real state
of the affair, and of instantly removing all mystery,
that she could not help suggesting it to her mother.

"Why do you not ask Marianne at once," said she,
"whether she is or she is not engaged to Willoughby? From you,
her mother, and so kind, so indulgent a mother, the question
could not give offence. It would be the natural result
of your affection for her. She used to be all unreserve,
and to you more especially."

"I would not ask such a question for the world.
Supposing it possible that they are not engaged,
what distress would not such an enquiry inflict! At any
rate it would be most ungenerous. I should never deserve
her confidence again, after forcing from her a confession
of what is meant at present to be unacknowledged to any one.
I know Marianne's heart: I know that she dearly loves me,
and that I shall not be the last to whom the affair is made
known,
when circumstances make the revealment of it eligible.
I would not attempt to force the confidence of any one;
of a child much less; because a sense of duty would prevent
the denial which her wishes might direct."

Elinor thought this generosity overstrained,
considering her sister's youth, and urged the matter farther,
but in vain; common sense, common care, common prudence,
were all sunk in Mrs. Dashwood's romantic delicacy.

It was several days before Willoughby's name
was mentioned before Marianne by any of her family;
Sir John and Mrs. Jennings, indeed, were not so nice;
their witticisms added pain to many a painful hour;--
but one evening, Mrs. Dashwood, accidentally taking up a
volume of Shakespeare, exclaimed,

"We have never finished Hamlet, Marianne; our dear
Willoughby went away before we could get through it.
We will put it by, that when he comes again...But it may
be months, perhaps, before THAT happens."

"Months!" cried Marianne, with strong surprise.
"No--nor many weeks."

Mrs. Dashwood was sorry for what she had said;
but it gave Elinor pleasure, as it produced a reply
from Marianne so expressive of confidence in Willoughby
and knowledge of his intentions.

One morning, about a week after his leaving the country,
Marianne was prevailed on to join her sisters in their
usual walk, instead of wandering away by herself.
Hitherto she had carefully avoided every companion in
her rambles. If her sisters intended to walk on the downs,
she directly stole away towards the lanes; if they talked
of the valley, she was as speedy in climbing the hills,
and could never be found when the others set off.
But at length she was secured by the exertions of Elinor,
who greatly disapproved such continual seclusion. They walked
along the road through the valley, and chiefly in silence,
for Marianne's MIND could not be controlled, and Elinor,
satisfied with gaining one point, would not then attempt more.
Beyond the entrance of the valley, where the country,
though still rich, was less wild and more open, a long
stretch of the road which they had travelled on first coming
to Barton, lay before them; and on reaching that point,
they stopped to look around them, and examine a prospect
which formed the distance of their view from the cottage,
from a spot which they had never happened to reach in any
of their walks before.

Amongst the objects in the scene, they soon discovered
an animated one; it was a man on horseback riding towards them.
In a few minutes they could distinguish him to be a gentleman;
and in a moment afterwards Marianne rapturously exclaimed,

"It is he; it is indeed;--I know it is!"--and was
hastening to meet him, when Elinor cried out,

"Indeed, Marianne, I think you are mistaken. It is
not Willoughby. The person is not tall enough for him,
and has not his air."

"He has, he has," cried Marianne, "I am sure he has.
His air, his coat, his horse. I knew how soon he would come."

She walked eagerly on as she spoke; and Elinor,
to screen Marianne from particularity, as she felt almost
certain of its not being Willoughby, quickened her
pace and kept up with her. They were soon within
thirty yards of the gentleman. Marianne looked again;
her heart sunk within her; and abruptly turning round,
she was hurrying back, when the voices of both her sisters


<< previous page | next page >>

Jump to page: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 | 66 | 67 | 68 | 69 | 70 | 71 | 72 | 73 | 74 | 75 | 76 | 77 | 78 | 79 | 80 | 81 | 82 | 83 | 84 | 85 | 86 | 87 | 88 | 89 | 90 | 91 | 92 | 93 | 94 | 95 | 96 | 97 | 98 | 99 | 100 | 101 | 102 | 103 | 104 | 105 | 106 | 107 | 108 | 109 | 110 | 111 | 112 | 113 | 114 | 115 | 116 | 117 | 118 | 119 | 120 | 121 | 122 | 123 | 124 | 125 | 126 | 127 | 128 | 129 | 130 | 131 | 132 | 133 | 134 | 135 | 136 | 137 | 138 | 139 | 140 | 141 | 142 | 143 | 144 | 145 | 146 | 147 | 148 | 149 |