l
me, I know, that this may or may _not_ have happened; but I will
listen to no cavil, unless you can point out any other method of
understanding the affair as satisfactory at this. And now, Elinor,
what have you to say?"

"Nothing, for you have anticipated my answer."

"Then you would have told me, that it might or might not have
happened. Oh, Elinor, how incomprehensible are your feelings! You had
rather take evil upon credit than good. You had rather look out for
misery for Marianne, and guilt for poor Willoughby, than an apology
for the latter. You are resolved to think him blamable, because he
took leave of us with less affection than his usual behaviour has
shown. And is no allowance to be made for inadvertence, or for spirits
depressed by recent disappointment? Are no probabilities to be
accepted, merely because they are not certainties? Is nothing due to
the man whom we have all such reason to love, and no reason in the
world to think ill of?--to the possibility of motives unanswerable in
themselves, though unavoidably secret for a while? And, after all,
what is it you suspect him of?"

"I can hardly tell myself. But suspicion of something unpleasant is
the inevitable consequence of such an alteration as we just witnessed
in him. There is great truth, however, in what you have now urged of
the allowances which ought to be made for him, and it is my wish to be
candid in my judgment of every body. Willoughby may undoubtedly have
very sufficient reasons for his conduct, and I will hope that he has.
But it would have been more like Willoughby to acknowledge them at
once. Secrecy may be advisable; but still I cannot help wondering at
its being practiced by him."

"Do not blame him, however, for departing from his character, where
the deviation is necessary. But you really do admit the justice of
what I have said in his defence?--I am happy--and he is acquitted."

"Not entirely. It may be proper to conceal their engagement (if they
_are_ engaged) from Mrs. Smith; and if that is the case, it must be
highly expedient for Willoughby to be but little in Devonshire at
present. But this is no excuse for their concealing it from us."

"Concealing it from us! my dear child, do you accuse Willoughby and
Marianne of concealment? This is strange indeed, when your eyes have
been reproaching them every day for incautiousness."

"I want no proof of their affection," said Elinor; "but of their
engagement I do."

"I am per