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 he owned to us must
have happened.
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