he not to have suspended his
belief? ought he not to have told me of it, to have given me the power
of clearing myself? 'The lock of hair, (repeating it from the letter,)
which you so obligingly bestowed on me'--that is unpardonable.
Willoughby, where was your heart when you wrote those words? Oh,
barbarously insolent!--Elinor, can he be justified?"

"No, Marianne, in no possible way."

"And yet this woman--who knows what her art may have been?--how long
it may have been premeditated, and how deeply contrived by her!--Who
is she?--Who can she be?--Whom did I ever hear him talk of as young
and attractive among his female acquaintance?--Oh! no one, no one:--he
talked to me only of myself."

Another pause ensued; Marianne was greatly agitated, and it ended
thus:--

"Elinor, I must go home. I must go and comfort mama. Can not we be
gone to-morrow?"

"To-morrow, Marianne!"

"Yes, why should I stay here? I came only for Willoughby's sake--and
now who cares for me? Who regards me?"

"It would be impossible to go to-morrow. We owe Mrs. Jennings much
more than civility; and civility of the commonest kind must prevent
such a hasty removal as that."

"Well then, another day or two, perhaps; but I cannot stay here long,
I cannot stay to endure the questions and remarks of all these people.
The Middletons and Palmers--how am I to bear their pity? The pity of
such a woman as Lady Middleton! Oh, what would _he_ say to that!"

Elinor advised her to lie down again, and for a moment she did so; but
no attitude could give her ease; and in restless pain of mind and body
she moved from one posture to another, till growing more and more
hysterical, her sister could with difficulty keep her on the bed at
all, and for some time was fearful of being constrained to call for
assistance. Some lavender drops, however, which she was at length
persuaded to take, were of use; and from that time till Mrs. Jennings
returned, she continued on the bed quiet and motionless.

CHAPTER XXX

Mrs. Jennings came immediately to their room on her return, and
without waiting to have her request of admittance answered, opened the
door and walked in with a look of real concern.

"How do you do my dear?" said she in a voice of great compassion to
Marianne, who turned away her face without attempting to answer.

"How is she, Miss Dashwood? Poor thing! she looks very bad. No
wonder. Ay, it is but too true. He is to be married very soon--a
good-