soothe her
distress, lessen her alarms, and combat her resentment. The first
question on her side, which led to farther particulars, was,--
"How long has this been known to you, Elinor? has he written to you?"
"I have known it these four months. When Lucy first came to Barton
Park last November, she told me in confidence of her engagement."
At these words, Marianne's eyes expressed the astonishment which her
lips could not utter. After a pause of wonder, she exclaimed--
"Four months!--Have you known of this four months?"
Elinor confirmed it.
"What!--while attending me in all my misery, has this been on your
heart?--And I have reproached you for being happy!"--
"It was not fit that you should then know how much I was the reverse!"
"Four months!"--cried Marianne again.--"So calm!--so cheerful!--how
have you been supported?"--
"By feeling that I was doing my duty.--My promise to Lucy, obliged me
to be secret. I owed it to her, therefore, to avoid giving any hint of
the truth; and I owed it to my family and friends, not to create in
them a solicitude about me, which it could not be in my power to
satisfy."
Marianne seemed much struck.
"I have very often wished to undeceive yourself and my mother," added
Elinor; "and once or twice I have attempted it;--but without betraying
my trust, I never could have convinced you."
"Four months!--and yet you loved him!"--
"Yes. But I did not love only him;--and while the comfort of others was
dear to me, I was glad to spare them from knowing how much I felt.
Now, I can think and speak of it with little emotion. I would not have
you suffer on my account; for I assure you I no longer suffer
materially myself. I have many things to support me. I am not
conscious of having provoked the disappointment by any imprudence of my
own, I have borne it as much as possible without spreading it farther.
I acquit Edward of essential misconduct. I wish him very happy; and I
am so sure of his always doing his duty, that though now he may harbour
some regret, in the end he must become so. Lucy does not want sense,
and that is the foundation on which every thing good may be built.--And
after all, Marianne, after all that is bewitching in the idea of a
single and constant attachment, and all that can be said of one's
happiness depending entirely on any particular person, it is not
meant--it is not fit--it is not possible that it should be so.-- Edward
will marry Lucy; h
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