general complaisance or particular gratitude which
you had hitherto been left to discharge alone? No; not less when I knew
you to be unhappy, than when I had believed you at ease, did I turn away
from every exertion of duty or friendship; scarcely allowing sorrow to
exist but with me, regretting only _that_ heart which had deserted and
wronged me, and leaving you, for I professed an unbounded affection, to
be miserable for my sake."

Here ceased the rapid flow of her self-reproving spirit; and Elinor,
impatient to soothe, though too honest to flatter, gave her instantly
that praise and support which her frankness and her contrition so well
deserved. Marianne pressed her hand and replied--

"You are very good. The future must be my proof. I have laid down my
plan, and if I am capable of adhering to it--my feelings shall be
governed and my temper improved. They shall no longer worry others,
nor torture myself. I shall now live solely for my family. You, my
mother, and Margaret, must henceforth be all the world to me; you will
share my affections entirely between you. From you, from my home, I
shall never again have the smallest incitement to move; and if I do
mix in other society, it will be only to show that my spirit is
humbled, my heart amended, and that I can practise the civilities, the
lesser duties of life, with gentleness and forbearance. As for
Willoughby--to say that I shall soon or that I shall ever forget him,
would be idle. His remembrance can be overcome by no change of
circumstances or opinions. But it shall be regulated, it shall be
checked by religion, by reason, by constant employment."

She paused--and added in a low voice, "If I could but know _his_
heart, everything would become easy."

Elinor, who had now been for some time reflecting on the propriety or
impropriety of speedily hazarding her narration, without feeling at
all nearer decision than at first, heard this; and perceiving that as
reflection did nothing, resolution must do all, soon found herself
leading to the fact.

She managed the recital, as she hoped, with address; prepared her
anxious listener with caution; related simply and honestly the chief
points on which Willoughby grounded his apology; did justice to his
repentance, and softened only his protestations of present regard.
Marianne said not a word. She trembled, her eyes were fixed on the
ground, and her lips became whiter than even sickness had left them. A
thousand inquiri