Mrs.Dashwood's visit to Lady Middleton took place the next day, and two of her daughters went with her;but Marianne excused herself from being of the party, under some trifling pretext of employment; and her mother, who concluded that a promise had been made by Willoughby the night before of calling on her while they were absent, was perfectly satisfied with her remaining at home.
On their return from the park they found Willoughby's curricle and servant in waiting at the cottage, and Mrs.Dashwood was convinced that her conjecture had been just.So far it was all as she had foreseen;but on entering the house she beheld what no foresight had taught her to expect.They were no sooner in the passage than Marianne came hastily out of the parlour apparently in violent affliction, with her handkerchief at her eyes; and without noticing them ran up stairs.
Surprised and alarmed they proceeded directly into the room she had just quitted, where they found only Willoughby, who was leaning against the mantel-piece with his back towards them.He turned round on their coming in, and his countenance shewed that he strongly partook of the emotion which over-powered Marianne.
"Is anything the matter with her?" cried Mrs.
Dashwood as she entered--"is she ill?"
"I hope not," he replied, trying to look cheerful;and with a forced smile presently added, "It is I who may rather expect to be ill--for I am now suffering under a very heavy disappointment!""Disappointment?"
"Yes, for I am unable to keep my engagement with you.
Mrs.Smith has this morning exercised the privilege of riches upon a poor dependent cousin, by sending me on business to London.I have just received my dispatches, and taken my farewell of Allenham; and by way of exhilaration I am now come to take my farewell of you.""To London!--and are you going this morning?""Almost this moment."
"This is very unfortunate.But Mrs.Smith must be obliged;--and her business will not detain you from us long I hope."He coloured as he replied, "You are very kind, but Ihave no idea of returning into Devonshire immediately.
My visits to Mrs.Smith are never repeated within the twelvemonth.""And is Mrs.Smith your only friend?
Is Allenham the only house in the neighbourhood to which you will be welcome?
For shame, Willoughby, can you wait for an invitation here?"His colour increased; and with his eyes fixed on the ground he only replied, "You are too good."Mrs.Dashwood looked at Elinor with surprise.
Elinor felt equal amazement.For a few moments every one was silent.Mrs.Dashwood first spoke.
"I have only to add, my dear Willoughby, that at Barton cottage you will always be welcome; for I will not press you to return here immediately, because you only can judge how far THAT might be pleasing to Mrs.Smith;and on this head I shall be no more disposed to question your judgment than to doubt your inclination.""My engagements at present," replied Willoughby, confusedly, "are of such a nature--that--I dare not flatter myself"--He stopt.Mrs.Dashwood was too much astonished to speak, and another pause succeeded.This was broken by Willoughby, who said with a faint smile, "It is folly to linger in this manner.I will not torment myself any longer by remaining among friends whose society it is impossible for me now to enjoy."He then hastily took leave of them all and left the room.They saw him step into his carriage, and in a minute it was out of sight.
Mrs.Dashwood felt too much for speech, and instantly quitted the parlour to give way in solitude to the concern and alarm which this sudden departure occasioned.
Elinor's uneasiness was at least equal to her mother's.
She thought of what had just passed with anxiety and distrust.
Willoughby's behaviour in taking leave of them, his embarrassment, and affectation of cheerfulness, and, above all, his unwillingness to accept her mother's invitation, a backwardness so unlike a lover, so unlike himself, greatly disturbed her.One moment she feared that no serious design had ever been formed on his side; and the next that some unfortunate quarrel had taken place between him and her sister;--the distress in which Marianne had quitted the room was such as a serious quarrel could most reasonably account for, though when she considered what Marianne's love for him was, a quarrel seemed almost impossible.
But whatever might be the particulars of their separation, her sister's affliction was indubitable; and she thought with the tenderest compassion of that violent sorrow which Marianne was in all probability not merely giving way to as a relief, but feeding and encouraging as a duty.
In about half an hour her mother returned, and though her eyes were red, her countenance was not uncheerful.
"Our dear Willoughby is now some miles from Barton, Elinor,"said she, as she sat down to work, "and with how heavy a heart does he travel?""It is all very strange.So suddenly to be gone! It seems but the work of a moment.And last night he was with us so happy, so cheerful, so affectionate? And now, after only ten minutes notice--Gone too without intending to return!--Something more than what be owned to us must have happened.He did not speak, he did not behave like himself.YOU must have seen the difference as well as I.
What can it be? Can they have quarrelled? Why else should he have shewn such unwillingness to accept your invitation here?"--"It was not inclination that he wanted, Elinor;I could plainly see THAT.He had not the power of accepting it.
I have thought it all over I assure you, and I can perfectly account for every thing that at first seemed strange to me as well as to you.""Can you, indeed!"
