val, was astounded by a
visit from Willoughby, who, having met Sir John Middleton in the lobby
of Drury Lane Theatre the previous night, and thus heard of Marianne's
serious illness, had set forth post-haste to make inquiries, and was now
delighted to find her out of danger. Attempting an exculpation of
himself, he confessed that at first meeting Marianne he had tried to
engage her regard without a thought of returning it; that afterwards he
grew sincerely fond of her, but put off from day to day paying her his
formal addresses and that just at the moment when he was going to make a
regular proposal to her, Mrs. Smith's discovery of his liaison with Miss
Williams, and his refusal to right matters by marrying the young lady,
dismissed him from his relative's house and favour, prevented him from
declaring his love to Marianne, and, in the embarrassed state of his
finances, seemed to render marriage with a wealthy woman his only chance
of salvation. He repudiated the charge of having deserted Miss Williams,
declaring that he did not know the straits to which she had been
reduced. He also alluded to the violence of her passion, and the
weakness of her understanding, as some excuses for the apparent
heartlessness of his own conduct.

He then went on to explain his treatment of Marianne's letters; how he
had already--previous to the arrival of the Dashwoods in town--become
engaged to Miss Sophia Grey; how, with his head and heart full of
Marianne, he was forced to play the happy lover to Sophia; and how
Sophia, in her jealousy, had opened Marianne's third letter and dictated
the reply.

"What do you think of my wife's style of letter-writing? Delicate,
tender, fully feminine, was it not?" said he.

"You are very wrong, Mr. Willoughby," said Elinor. "You ought not to
speak in this way either of Mrs. Willoughby or my sister. You have made
your own choice. It was not forced on you. Your wife has a claim to your
politeness--to your respect, at least." She must be attached to you, or
she would not have married you."

"Do not talk to me of my wife," said he, with a heavy sigh. "She does
not deserve your compassion. She knew I had no regard for her when we
married. And now, do you pity me, Miss Dashwood? Have I explained away
any part of my guilt?"

"Yes. You have certainly removed something--a little," said Elinor. "You
have proved yourself, on the whole, less faulty than I had believed
you."

When Mrs. Dashwood arrived at