Chapter 28

by Jane Austen

　　Nothing occurred during the next three or four days,to make Elinor regret what she had done, in applyingto her mother; for Willoughby neither came nor wrote.They were engaged about the end of that time to attendLady Middleton to a party, from which Mrs. Jennings waskept away by the indisposition of her youngest daughter;and for this party, Marianne, wholly dispirited,careless of her appearance, and seeming equally indifferentwhether she went or staid, prepared, without one lookof hope or one expression of pleasure. She sat by thedrawing-room fire after tea, till the moment of LadyMiddleton'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 atlast they were told that Lady Middleton waited for themat the door, she started as if she had forgotten thatany one was expected.They arrived in due time at the place of destination,and as soon as the string of carriages before themwould allow, alighted, ascended the stairs, heard theirnames announced from one landing-place to another in anaudible voice, and entered a room splendidly lit up,quite full of company, and insufferably hot. When they hadpaid their tribute of politeness by curtsying to the ladyof the house, they were permitted to mingle in the crowd,and take their share of the heat and inconvenience, towhich their arrival must necessarily add. After some timespent in saying little or doing less, Lady Middleton satdown to Cassino, and as Marianne was not in spirits formoving 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 Elinorperceived Willoughby, standing within a few yardsof them, in earnest conversation with a very fashionablelooking young woman. She soon caught his eye, and heimmediately 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 whetherit could be unobserved by her. At that moment she firstperceived him, and her whole countenance glowing withsudden delight, she would have moved towards him instantly,had not her sister caught hold of her."Good heavens!" she exclaimed, "he is there--heis there--Oh! why does he not look at me? why cannotI speak to him?""Pray, pray be composed," cried Elinor, "and donot 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 beyondthe reach of Marianne, it was beyond her wish. She satin 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 toneof 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 toobserve her attitude, inquired in a hurried manner afterMrs. 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 sisterwere 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 shakehands with me?"He could not then avoid it, but her touch seemedpainful 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 expressionbecoming more tranquil. After a moment's pause, he spokewith calmness."I did myself the honour of calling in BerkeleyStreet last Tuesday, and very much regretted that I wasnot fortunate enough to find yourselves and Mrs. Jenningsat home. My card was not lost, I hope.""But have you not received my notes?" cried Mariannein the wildest anxiety. "Here is some mistake I amsure--some dreadful mistake. What can be the meaningof it? Tell me, Willoughby; for heaven's sake tell me,what is the matter?"He made no reply; his complexion changed and all hisembarrassment returned; but as if, on catching the eyeof the young lady with whom he had been previously talking,he felt the necessity of instant exertion, he recoveredhimself again, and after saying, "Yes, I had the pleasureof receiving the information of your arrival in town,which you were so good as to send me," turned hastily awaywith a slight bow and joined his friend.Marianne, now looking dreadfully white, and unableto stand, sunk into her chair, and Elinor, expecting everymoment to see her faint, tried to screen her from theobservation of others, while reviving her with lavender water."Go to him, Elinor," she cried, as soon as shecould speak, "and force him to come to me. Tell himI must see him again--must speak to him instantly.--I cannot rest--I shall not have a moment's peace till thisis 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 herfrom following him herself; and to persuade her to checkher agitation, to wait, at least, with the appearanceof composure, till she might speak to him with more privacyand more effect, was impossible; for Marianne continuedincessantly to give way in a low voice to the miseryof her feelings, by exclamations of wretchedness.In a short time Elinor saw Willoughby quit the room by thedoor towards the staircase, and telling Marianne that hewas gone, urged the impossibility of speaking to him againthat evening, as a fresh argument for her to be calm.She instantly begged her sister would entreat LadyMiddleton to take them home, as she was too miserableto stay a minute longer.Lady Middleton, though in the middle of a rubber,on being informed that Marianne was unwell, was toopolite to object for a moment to her wish of going away,and making over her cards to a friend, they departedas soon the carriage could be found. Scarcely a wordwas spoken during their return to Berkeley Street.Marianne was in a silent agony, too much oppressed evenfor tears; but as Mrs. Jennings was luckily not come home,they could go directly to their own room, where hartshornrestored her a little to herself. She was soon undressedand in bed, and as she seemed desirous of being alone,her sister then left her, and while she waited the returnof Mrs. Jennings, had leisure enough for thinking overthe past.That some kind of engagement had subsistedbetween 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 mistakeor misapprehension of any kind. Nothing but a thoroughchange of sentiment could account for it. Her indignationwould have been still stronger than it was, had shenot witnessed that embarrassment which seemed to speaka consciousness of his own misconduct, and preventedher from believing him so unprincipled as to have beensporting with the affections of her sister from the first,without any design that would bear investigation.Absence might have weakened his regard, and conveniencemight have determined him to overcome it, but that sucha regard had formerly existed she could not bring herselfto doubt.As for Marianne, on the pangs which so unhappy a meetingmust already have given her, and on those still moresevere 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 shecould esteem Edward as much as ever, however they might bedivided in future, her mind might be always supported.But every circumstance that could embitter such an evilseemed uniting to heighten the misery of Mariannein a final separation from Willoughby--in an immediateand irreconcilable rupture with him.