CHAPTER VI

othing occurred during the next three or four days, to

make Elinor regret what she had done, in applying to

her mother; for Willoughby neither came nor wrote.

They were engaged about the end of that time to attend Lady

Middleton to a party, from which Mrs. Jennings was kept away by

the indisposition of her youngest daughter; and for this party,

Marianne, wholly dispirited, careless of her appearance, and

seeming equally indifferent whether she went or staid, prepared,

without one look of hope or one expression of pleasure. She sat by

the drawing-room fire after tea, till the moment of Lady

Middleton's arrival, without once stirring from her seat, or altering

her attitude, lost in her own thoughts, and insensible of her sister's

presence; and when at last they were told that Lady Middleton

waited for them at the door, she started as if she had forgotten that

any one was expected.

They arrived in due time at the place of destination, and as

soon as the string of carriages before them would allow, alighted,

ascended the stairs, heard their names announced from one

landing-place to another in an audible voice, and entered a room

splendidly lit up, quite full of company, and insufferably hot. When

they had paid their tribute of politeness by curtsying to the lady of

the house, they were permitted to mingle in the crowd, and take

their share of the heat and convenience" title="n.不方便；打扰">inconvenience, to which their arrival

must necessarily add. After some time spent in saying little or

doing less, Lady Middleton sat down to Casino, and as Marianne

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Classics in Literature: Jane Austen ElecBook

199

was not in spirits for moving about, she and Elinor luckily

succeeding to chairs, placed themselves at no great distance from

the table.

They had not remained in this manner long, before Elinor

perceived Willoughby, standing within a few yards of them, in

earnest conversation with a very fashionable looking young

woman. She soon caught his eye, and he immediately bowed, but

without attempting to speak to her, or to approach Marianne,

though he could not but see her; and then continued his discourse

with the same lady. Elinor turned involuntarily to Marianne, to see

whether it could be unobserved by her. At that moment she first

perceived him, and her whole countenance glowing with sudden

delight, she would have moved towards him instantly, had not her

sister caught hold of her.

"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, "he is there―he is there―Oh!

why does he not look at me? why cannot I speak to him?"

"Pray, pray be composed," cried Elinor, "and do not betray

what you feel to every body present. Perhaps he has not observed

you yet."

This however was more than she could believe herself; and to

be composed at such a moment was not only beyond the reach of

Marianne, it was beyond her wish. She sat in an agony of

impatience which affected every feature.

At last he turned round again, and regarded them both; she

started up, and pronouncing his name in a tone of affection, held

out her hand to him. He approached, and addressing himself

rather to Elinor than Marianne, as if wishing to avoid her eye, and

determined not to observe her attitude, inquired in a hurried

manner after Mrs. Dashwood, and asked how long they had been

in town. Elinor was robbed of all presence of mind by such an

address, and was unable to say a word. But the feelings of her

sister were instantly expressed. Her face was crimsoned over, and

she exclaimed, in a voice of the greatest emotion, "Good God!

Willoughby, what is the meaning of this? Have you not received

my letters? Will you not shake hands with me?"

He could not then avoid it, but her touch seemed painful to him,

and he held her hand only for a moment. During all this time he

was evidently struggling for composure. Elinor watched his

countenance and saw its expression becoming more tranquil.

After a moment's pause, he spoke with calmness.

"I did myself the honour of calling in Berkeley-street last

Tuesday, and very much regretted that I was not fortunate enough

to find yourselves and Mrs. Jennings at home. My card was not

lost, I hope."

"But have you not received my notes?" cried Marianne in the

wildest anxiety. "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?"

He made no reply; his complexion changed and all his

embarrassment returned; but as if, on catching the eye of the

young lady with whom he had been previously talking, he felt the

necessity of instant exertion, he recovered himself again, and after

saying, "Yes, I had the pleasure of receiving the information of

your arrival in town, which you were so good as to send me,"

turned hastily away with a slight bow and joined his friend.

Marianne, now looking dreadfully white, and unable to stand,

sunk into her chair, and Elinor, expecting every moment to see

her faint, tried to screen her from the observation of others, while

reviving her with lavender water.

"Go to him, Elinor," she cried, as soon as she could speak, "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."

With difficulty however could she prevent her from following

him herself; and to persuade her to check her agitation, to wait, at

least, with the appearance of composure, till she might speak to

him with more privacy and more effect, was impossible; for

Marianne continued incessantly to give way in a low voice to the

misery of her feelings, by exclamations of wretchedness. In a short

time Elinor saw Willoughby quit the room by the door towards the

staircase, and telling Marianne that he was gone, urged the

impossibility of speaking to him again that evening, as a fresh

argument for her to be calm. She instantly begged her sister would

entreat Lady Middleton to take them home, as she was too

miserable to stay a minute longer.

Lady Middleton, though in the middle of a rubber, on being

informed that Marianne was unwell, was too polite to object for a

moment to her wish of going away, and making over her cards to a

friend, they departed as soon the carriage could be found. Scarcely

a word was spoken during their return to Berkeley-street.

Marianne was in a silent agony, too much oppressed even for

tears; but as Mrs. Jennings was luckily not come home, they could

go directly to their own room, where hartshorn restored her a little

to herself. She was soon undressed and in bed, and as she seemed

desirous of being alone, her sister then left her, and while she

waited the return of Mrs. Jennings, had leisure enough for

thinking over the past.

That some kind of engagement had subsisted between

Willoughby and Marianne she could not doubt, and that

Willoughby was weary of it, seemed equally clear; 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.

Her indignation would have been still stronger than it was, had

she not witnessed that embarrassment which seemed to speak a

consciousness of his own misconduct, and prevented her from

believing him so unprincipled as to have been sporting with the

affections of her sister from the first, without any design that

would bear investigation. 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.

As for Marianne, on the pangs which so unhappy a meeting

must already have given her, and on those still more severe which

might await her in its probable consequence, she could not reflect

without the deepest concern. Her own situation gained in the

comparison; for 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.
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