The curricle is waiting, and so is a farewell nobody foresaw. Marianne stays home from the visit to Lady Middleton, under a trifling pretext. Her mother is satisfied. She concludes Willoughby promised to call while they were out. They return to the curricle and the servant, and so far the conjecture holds. In the passage Marianne comes out of the parlour in violent affliction, handkerchief at her eyes, and runs upstairs without noticing them. Willoughby is leaning against the mantelpiece with his back towards them. He turns, tries to look cheerful, and says it is he who may expect to be ill. He cannot keep his engagement. Mrs. Smith has used the privilege of being rich, and sent a poor dependent cousin to London on business. By way of exhilaration he is come to take his farewell. Almost this moment. His visits to Mrs. Smith are never repeated within the year.
Mrs. Dashwood says he need not wait for an invitation here. His colour rises. His eyes stay on the ground. You are too good. She tells him Barton will always welcome him, and she will not press a return that only he can judge. He begins, confused, that his engagements are of such a nature that he dare not flatter himself, and he stops. Then he says it is folly to linger among friends whose society it is impossible for him now to enjoy. He steps into the carriage. In a minute it is out of sight. Elinor fears, in one moment, that no serious design was ever formed on his side, and in the next that a quarrel could account for the distress in which Marianne left the room. Marianne's love makes a quarrel seem almost impossible. The affliction itself is certain. Elinor thinks of a sorrow her sister is not merely giving way to as a relief, but feeding and encouraging as a duty.
Half an hour later Mrs. Dashwood returns, eyes red and countenance not uncheerful. She has a satisfactory account, and Elinor shall not talk her out of it. Mrs. Smith suspects the regard, disapproves, perhaps has other views, and invented the business to send him away. He dares not confess the engagement, so he must absent himself. Elinor's answer was already expected. It might or might not have happened. Her mother calls this taking evil upon credit, and declares him acquitted. Not entirely, Elinor says. Concealment from Mrs. Smith may be proper, if they are engaged. It is no excuse for concealing it from the family. She wants no proof of their affection. Of their engagement she does. Not a syllable has been said by either of them. Her mother has not wanted syllables where actions have spoken so plainly. Elinor confesses that every circumstance except one favours the engagement, and that one, the total silence of both, almost outweighs every other. If they correspond, her fears will be removed. At dinner Marianne cannot eat or speak. Her mother presses her hand, and she bursts into tears and leaves the room. The evening cannot keep clear of his name. If a letter comes, will it outweigh the silence, or will the silence still be the one fact?
Coming Up in Chapter 16
Marianne has not slept on the first night after parting from Willoughby. On the road she turns, surprised, to welcome Edward Ferrars. He is the only person in the world who could, at that moment, be forgiven for not being Willoughby.
