for the first time these two months--he
spoke to me. That he had cut me ever since my marriage, I had seen
without surprise or resentment. Now, however, his good-natured,
honest, stupid soul, full of indignation against me, and concern for
your sister, could not resist the temptation of telling me what he
knew ought to, though probably he did not think it _would_, vex me
horridly. As bluntly as he could speak it, therefore, he told me that
Marianne Dashwood was dying of a putrid fever at Cleveland--a letter
that morning received from Mrs. Jennings declared her danger most
imminent--the Palmers are all gone off in a fright, &c. I was too much
shocked to be able to pass myself off as insensible even to the
undiscerning Sir John. His heart was softened in seeing mine suffer;
and so much of his ill-will was done away, that when we parted, he
almost shook me by the hand while he reminded me of an old promise
about a pointer puppy. What I felt on hearing that your sister was
dying, and dying too, believing me the greatest villain upon earth,
scorning, hating me in her latest moments--for how could I tell what
horrid projects might not have been imputed? _One_ person I was sure
would represent me as capable of any thing. What I felt was dreadful!
My resolution was soon made, and at eight o'clock this morning I was
in my carriage. Now you know all."

Elinor made no answer. Her thoughts were silently fixed on the
irreparable injury which too early an independence and its consequent
habits of idleness, dissipation, and luxury, had made in the mind, the
character, the happiness, of a man who, to every advantage of person
and talents, united a disposition naturally open and honest, and a
feeling, affectionate temper. The world had made him extravagant and
vain--Extravagance and vanity had made him cold-hearted and selfish.
Vanity, while seeking its own guilty triumph at the expense of
another, had involved him in a real attachment, which extravagance, or
at least its offspring, necessity, had required to be sacrificed. Each
faulty propensity in leading him to evil, had led him likewise to
punishment. The attachment, from which against honour, against
feeling, against every better interest he had outwardly torn himself,
now, when no longer allowable, governed every thought; and the
connection, for the sake of which he had, with little scruple, left
her sister to misery, was likely to prove a source of unhappiness to
himself of a f