anne's altered looks, and express
his fear of her not finding London agree with her.

"Oh, don't think of me!" she replied with spirited earnestness, though
her eyes were filled with tears as she spoke, "don't think of MY
health. Elinor is well, you see. That must be enough for us both."

This remark was not calculated to make Edward or Elinor more easy, nor
to conciliate the good will of Lucy, who looked up at Marianne with no
very benignant expression.

"Do you like London?" said Edward, willing to say any thing that might
introduce another subject.

"Not at all. I expected much pleasure in it, but I have found none.
The sight of you, Edward, is the only comfort it has afforded; and
thank Heaven! you are what you always were!"

She paused--no one spoke.

"I think, Elinor," she presently added, "we must employ Edward to take
care of us in our return to Barton. In a week or two, I suppose, we
shall be going; and, I trust, Edward will not be very unwilling to
accept the charge."

Poor Edward muttered something, but what it was, nobody knew, not even
himself. But Marianne, who saw his agitation, and could easily trace
it to whatever cause best pleased herself, was perfectly satisfied, and
soon talked of something else.

"We spent such a day, Edward, in Harley Street yesterday! So dull, so
wretchedly dull!--But I have much to say to you on that head, which
cannot be said now."

And with this admirable discretion did she defer the assurance of her
finding their mutual relatives more disagreeable than ever, and of her
being particularly disgusted with his mother, till they were more in
private.

"But why were you not there, Edward?--Why did you not come?"

"I was engaged elsewhere."

"Engaged! But what was that, when such friends were to be met?"

"Perhaps, Miss Marianne," cried Lucy, eager to take some revenge on
her, "you think young men never stand upon engagements, if they have no
mind to keep them, little as well as great."

Elinor was very angry, but Marianne seemed entirely insensible of the
sting; for she calmly replied,

"Not so, indeed; for, seriously speaking, I am very sure that
conscience only kept Edward from Harley Street. And I really believe
he HAS the most delicate conscience in the world; the most scrupulous
in performing every engagement, however minute, and however it may make
against his interest or pleasure. He is the most fearful of giving
pain, of wounding expectation, an