for-nothing fellow! I have no patience with him. Mrs. Taylor told
me of it half an hour ago, and she was told it by a particular friend
of Miss Grey herself, else I am sure I should not have believed it;
and I was almost ready to sink as it was. Well, said I, all I can say
is, that if this be true, he has used a young lady of my acquaintance
abominably ill, and I wish with all my soul his wife may plague his
heart out. And so I shall always say, my dear, you may depend on it. I
have no notion of men's going on in this way; and if ever I meet him
again, I will give him such a dressing as he has not had this many a
day. But there is one comfort, my dear Miss Marianne--he is not the
only young man in the world worth having; and with your pretty face
you will never want admirers. Well, poor thing! I won't disturb her
any longer, for she had better have her cry out at once and have done
with. The Parrys and Sandersons luckily are coming tonight you know,
and that will amuse her."

She then went away, walking on tiptoe out of the room, as if she
supposed her young friend's affliction could be increased by noise.

Marianne, to the surprise of her sister, determined on dining with
them. Elinor even advised her against it. But "no, she would go down;
she could bear it very well, and the bustle about her would be less."
Elinor, pleased to have her governed for a moment by such a motive,
though believing it hardly possible that she could sit out the dinner,
said no more; and adjusting her dress for her as well as she could,
while Marianne still remained on the bed, was ready to assist her into
the dining room as soon as they were summoned to it.

When there, though looking most wretchedly, she ate more and was
calmer than her sister had expected. Had she tried to speak, or had
she been conscious of half Mrs. Jennings's well-meant but ill-judged
attentions to her, this calmness could not have been maintained; but
not a syllable escaped her lips; and the abstraction of her thoughts
preserved her in ignorance of every thing that was passing before her.

Elinor, who did justice to Mrs. Jennings's kindness, though its
effusions were often distressing, and sometimes almost ridiculous,
made her those acknowledgments, and returned her those civilities,
which her sister could not make or return for herself. Their good
friend saw that Marianne was unhappy, and felt that every thing was
due to her which might make her at all less so. She