CHAPTER VIII

linor, starting back with a look of horror at the sight of

him, obeyed the first impulse of her heart in turning

instantly to quit the room, and her hand was already on

the lock, when its action was suspended by his hastily advancing,

and saying, in a voice rather of command than supplication,

"Miss Dashwood, for half an hour―for ten minutes―I entreat

you to stay."

"No, sir," she replied with firmness, "I shall not stay. Your

business cannot be with me. The servants, I suppose, forgot to tell

you that Mr. Palmer was not in the house."

"Had they told me," he cried with vehemence, "that Mr. Palmer

and all his relations were at the devil, it would not have turned me

from the door. My business is with you, and only you."

"With me!"―in the utmost amazement―"well, sir―be quick―

and if you can―less violent."

"Sit down, and I will be both."

She hesitated; she knew not what to do. The possibility of

Colonel Brandon's arriving and finding her there, came across

her. But she had promised to hear him, and her curiosity no less

than her honour was engaged. After a moment's recollection" title="n.回忆；追想；记忆力">recollection,

therefore, concluding that prudence required dispatch, and that

her acquiescence would best promote it, she walked silently

towards the table, and sat down. He took the opposite chair, and

for half a minute not a word was said by either.

"Pray be quick, sir"―said Elinor, impatiently" title="ad.不耐烦地，急躁地">impatiently―"I have no time

to spare."

He was sitting in an attitude of deep meditation, and seemed

not to hear her.

"Your sister," said he, with abruptness, a moment afterwards―

"is out of danger. I heard it from the servant. God be praised!―

But is it true? is it really true?"

Elinor would not speak. He repeated the inquiry with yet

greater eagerness.

"For God's sake tell me, is she out of danger, or is she not?"

"We hope she is."

He rose up, and walked across the room.

"Had I known as much half an hour ago―But since I am

here"―speaking with a forced vivacity as he returned to his seat―

"what does it signify?―For once, Miss Dashwood―it will be the

last time, perhaps―let us be cheerful together.―I am in a fine

mood for gaiety.―Tell me honestly"―a deeper glow

overspreading his cheeks―"do you think me most a knave or a

fool?"

Elinor looked at him with greater astonishment than ever. She

began to think that he must be in liquor;―the strangeness of such

a visit, and of such manners, seemed no otherwise intelligible; and

with this impression she immediately rose, saying,

"Mr. Willoughby, I advise you at present to return to Combe.―I

am not at leisure to remain with you longer.―Whatever your

business may be with me, it will be better recollected and

explained to-morrow."

"I understand you," he replied, with an expressive smile, and a

voice perfectly calm, "yes, I am very drunk.―A pint of porter with

my cold beef at Marlborough was enough to over-set me."

"At Marlborough!"―cried Elinor, more and more at a loss to

understand what he would be at.

"Yes―I left London this morning at eight o'clock, and the only

ten minutes I have spent out of my chaise since that time procured

me a luncheon at Marlborough."

The steadiness of his manner, and the intelligence of his eye as

he spoke, convincing Elinor, that whatever other unpardonable

folly might bring him to Cleveland, he was not brought there by

intoxication, she said, after a moment's recollection" title="n.回忆；追想；记忆力">recollection,

"Mr. Willoughby, you ought to feel, and I certainly do―that after

what has passed―your coming here in this manner, and forcing

yourself upon my notice, requires a very particular excuse.―What

is it, that you mean by it?"―

"I mean"―said he, with serious energy―"if I can, to make you

hate me one degree less than you do now. I mean to offer some

kind of explanation, some kind of apology, for the past; to open my

whole heart to you, and by convincing you, that though I have

been always a blockhead, I have not been always a rascal, to

obtain something like forgiveness" title="n.原谅，饶恕；宽仁">forgiveness from Ma―from your sister."

"Is this the real reason of your coming?"

"Upon my soul it is,"―was his answer, with a warmth which

brought all the former Willoughby to her remembrance, and in

spite of herself made her think him sincere.

"If that is all, you may be satisfied already,―for Marianne

does―she has long forgiven you."

"Has she!"―he cried, in the same eager tone.―"Then she has

forgiven me before she ought to have done it. But she shall forgive

me again, and on more reasonable grounds.―Now will you listen

to me?"

Elinor bowed her assent.

"I do not know," said he, after a pause of expectation on her

side, and thoughtfulness on his own,―"how you may have

accounted for my behaviour to your sister, or what diabolical

motive you may have imputed to me.―Perhaps you will hardly

think the better of me,―it is worth the trial however, and you shall

hear every thing. When I first became intimate in your family, I

had no other intention, no other view in the acquaintance than to

pass my time pleasantly while I was obliged to remain in

Devonshire, more pleasantly than I had ever done before. Your

sister's lovely person and interesting manners could not but please

me; and her behaviour to me almost from the first, was of a kind―

It is astonishing, when I reflect on what it was, and what she was,

that my heart should have been so insensible! But at first I must

confess, my vanity only was elevated by it. Careless of her

happiness, thinking only of my own amusement, giving way to

feelings which I had always been too much in the habit of

indulging, I endeavoured, by every means in my power, to make

myself pleasing to her, without any design of returning her

affection."

Miss Dashwood, at this point, turning her eyes on him with the

most angry contempt, stopped him, by saying,

"It is hardly worth while, Mr. Willoughby, for you to relate, or

for me to listen any longer. Such a beginning as this cannot be

followed by any thing.―Do not let me be pained by hearing any

thing more on the subject."

"I insist on you hearing the whole of it," he replied. "My fortune

was never large, and I had always been expensive, always in the

habit of associating with people of better income than myself.

Every year since my coming of age, or even before, I believe, had

added to my debts; and though the death of my old cousin, Mrs.

Smith, was to set me free; yet that event being uncertain, and

possibly far distant, it had been for some time my intention to re-

establish my circumstances by marrying a woman of fortune. To

attach myself to your sister, therefore, was not a thing to be

thought of;―and with a meanness, selfishness, cruelty―which no

indignant, no contemptuous look, even of yours, Miss Dashwood,

can ever reprobate too much―I was acting in this manner, trying

to engage her regard, without a thought of returning it.―But one

thing may be said for me, even in that horrid state of selfish vanity,

I did not know the extent of the injury I meditated, because I did

not then know what it was to love. But have I ever known it?―Well

may it be doubted; for, had I really loved, could I have sacrificed

my feelings to vanity, to avarice?―or, what is more, could I have

sacrificed hers?―But I have done it. To avoid a comparative

poverty, which her affection and her society would have deprived

of all its horrors, I have, by raising myself to affluence, lost every

thing that could make it a blessing."

"You did then," said Elinor, a little softened, "believe yourself

at one time attached to her?"

"To have resisted such attractions, to have withstood such

tenderness!―Is there a man on earth who could have done it?―

Yes, I found myself, by insensible degrees, sincerely fond of her;

and the happiest hours of my life were what I spent with her when

I felt my intentions were strictly honourable, and my feelings

blameless. Even then, however, when fully determined on paying

my addresses to her, I allowed myself most improperly to put off,

from day to day, the moment of doing it, from an unwillingness to

enter into an engagement while my circumstances were so greatly

embarrassed. I will not reason here―nor will I stop for you to

expatiate on the absurdity, and the worse than absurdity, of

scrupling to engage my faith where my honour was already bound.

The event has proved, that I was a cunning fool, providing with

great circumspection for a possible opportunity of making myself

contemptible and wretched for ever. At last, however, my

resolution was taken, and I had determined, as soon as I could

engage her alone, to justify the attentions I had so invariably paid

her, and openly assure her of an affection which I had already

taken such pains to display. But in the interim―in the interim of

the very few hours that were to pass, before I could have an

opportunity of speaking with her in private―a circumstance

occurred―an unlucky circumstance, to ruin all my resolution, and

with it all my comfort. A discovery took place,"―here he hesitated

and looked down.―"Mrs. Smith had somehow or other been

informed, I imagine by some distant relation, whose interest it was

to deprive me of her favour, of an affair, a connection―but I need

not explain myself farther," he added, looking at her with an

heightened colour and an inquiring eye―"your particular

intimacy―you have probably heard the whole story long ago."

"I have," returned Elinor, colouring likewise, and hardening

her heart anew against any compassion for him, "I have heard it

all. And how you will explain away any part of your guilt in that

dreadful business, I confess is beyond my comprehension."

"Remember," cried Willoughby, "from whom you received the

account. Could it be an impartial one? I acknowledge that her

situation and her character ought to have been respected by me. I

do not mean to justify myself, but at the same time cannot leave

you to suppose that I have nothing to urge―that because she was

injured she was irreproachable, and because I was a libertine, she

must be a saint. If the violence of her passions, the weakness of

her understanding―I do not mean, however, to defend myself.

Her affection for me deserved better treatment, and I often, with

great self-reproach, recall the tenderness which, for a very short

time, had the power of creating any return. I wish―I heartily wish

it had never been. But I have injured more than herself; and I

have injured one, whose affection for me―(may I say it?) was

scarcely less warm than hers; and whose mind―Oh! how infinitely

superior!"―

"Your indifference, however, towards that unfortunate girl―I

must say it, unpleasant to me as the discussion of such a subject

may well be―your indifference is no apology for your cruel

neglect of her. Do not think yourself excused by any weakness, any

natural defect of understanding on her side, in the wantoncruelty

so evident on yours. You must have known, that while you were

enjoying yourself in Devonshire pursuing fresh schemes, always

gay, always happy, she was reduced to the extremest indigence."

"But, upon my soul, I did not know it," he warmly replied; "I

did not recollect that I had omitted to give her my direction; and

common sense might have told her how to find it out."

"Well, sir, and what said Mrs. Smith?"

"She taxed me with the offence at once, and my confusion may

be guessed. The purity of her life, the formality of her notions, her

ignorance of the world―every thing was against me. The matter

itself I could not deny, and vain was every endeavour to soften it.

She was previously disposed, I believe, to doubt the morality of my

conduct in general, and was moreover discontented with the very

little attention, the very little portion of my time that I had

bestowed on her, in my present visit. In short, it ended in a total

breach. By one measure I might have saved myself. In the height

of her morality, good woman! she offered to forgive the past, if I

would marry Eliza. That could not be―and I was formally

dismissed from her favour and her house. The night following this

affair―I was to go the next morning―was spent by me in

deliberating on what my future conduct should be. The struggle

was great―but it ended too soon. My affection for Marianne, my

thorough conviction of her attachment to me―it was all

insufficient to outweigh that dread of poverty, or get the better of

those false ideas of the necessity of riches, which I was naturally

inclined to feel, and expensive society had increased. I had reason

to believe myself secure of my present wife, if I chose to address

her, and I persuaded myself to think that nothing else in common

prudence remained for me to do. A heavy scene however awaited

me, before I could leave Devonshire;―I was engaged to dine with

you on that very day; some apology was therefore necessary for

my breaking this engagement. But whether I should write this

apology, or deliver it in person, was a point of long debate. To see

Marianne, I felt, would be dreadful, and I even doubted whether I

could see her again, and keep to my resolution. In that point,

however, I undervalued my own magnanimity, as the event

declared; for I went, I saw her, and saw her miserable, and left her

miserable―and left her hoping never to see her again."

"Why did you call, Mr. Willoughby?" said Elinor, reproachfully;

"a note would have answered every purpose.―Why was it

necessary to call?"

"It was necessary to my own pride. I could not bear to leave the

country in a manner that might lead you, or the rest of the

neighbourhood, to suspect any part of what had really passed

between Mrs. Smith and myself―and I resolved therefore on

calling at the cottage, in my way to Honiton. The sight of your dear

sister, however, was really dreadful; and, to heighten the matter, I

found her alone. You were all gone I do not know where. I had left

her only the evening before, so fully, so firmly resolved within my

self on doing right! A few hours were to have engaged her to me

for ever; and I remember how happy, how gay were my spirits, as I

walked from the cottage to Allenham, satisfied with myself,

delighted with every body! But in this, our last interview of

friendship, I approached her with a sense of guilt that almost took

from me the power of dissembling. Her sorrow, her

disappointment, her deep regret, when I told her that I was

obliged to leave Devonshire so immediately―I never shall forget

it―united too with such reliance, such confidence in me!―Oh,

God!―what a hard-hearted rascal I was!"

They were both silent for a few moments. Elinor first spoke.

"Did you tell her that you should soon return?"

"I do not know what I told her," he replied, impatiently" title="ad.不耐烦地，急躁地">impatiently; "less

than was due to the past, beyond a doubt, and in all likelihood

much more than was justified by the future. I cannot think of it.―

It won't do.―Then came your dear mother to torture me farther,

with all her kindness and confidence. Thank Heaven! it did torture

me. I was miserable. Miss Dashwood, you cannot have an idea of

the comfort it gives me to look back on my own misery. I owe such

a grudge to myself for the stupid, rascally folly of my own heart,

that all my past sufferings under it are only triumph and

exultation to me now. Well, I went, left all that I loved, and went to

those to whom, at best, I was only indifferent. My journey to

town―travelling with my own horses, and therefore so tediously―

no creature to speak to―my own reflections so cheerful―when I

looked forward every thing so inviting!―when I looked back at

Barton, the picture so soothing!―oh, it was a blessed journey!"

He stopped.

"Well, sir," said Elinor, who, though pitying him, grew

impatient for his departure, "and this is all?"

"Ah!―no,―have you forgot what passed in town?―That

infamous letter―Did she shew it you?"

"Yes, I saw every note that passed."

"When the first of hers reached me (as it immediately did, for I

was in town the whole time,) what I felt is―in the common phrase,

not to be expressed; in a more simple one―perhaps too simple to

raise any emotion―my feelings were very, very painful.―Every