ttitude 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?"

[Illustration: "_I entreat you to stay._"]

"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, will it 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
nuncheon 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--

"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 con