. The novels and letters of Jane Austen. own, and she judged of their motives bythe immediate effect of their actions on a circumstance occurred, while the sisterswere together in their own room after breakfast,which sunk the heart of Mrs Jennings still lowerin her estimation; because, through her own weak-ness, it chanced to prove a source of fresh painto herself, though Mrs Jennings was governed init by an impulse of the utmost good-will. With a letter in her outstretched hand, andcountenance gaily smiling, from the persuasionof bringing comfort, she entered their room, say-ing—
. The novels and letters of Jane Austen. own, and she judged of their motives bythe immediate effect of their actions on a circumstance occurred, while the sisterswere together in their own room after breakfast,which sunk the heart of Mrs Jennings still lowerin her estimation; because, through her own weak-ness, it chanced to prove a source of fresh painto herself, though Mrs Jennings was governed init by an impulse of the utmost good-will. With a letter in her outstretched hand, andcountenance gaily smiling, from the persuasionof bringing comfort, she entered their room, say-ing— Now, my dear, I bring you something that Iam sure will do you good. Marianne heard enough. In one moment herimagination placed before her a letter from Wil-loughby, full of tenderness and contrition, ex-planatory of all that had passed, satisfactory,convincing; and instantly followed by Wil-loughby himself, rushing eagerly into the roomto inforce, at her feet, by the eloquence of hiseyes, the assurances of his letter. The work of[50]. SENSE AND SENSIBILITY one moment was destroyed by the next. Thehandwriting of her mother, never till then unwel-come, was before her; and, in the acuteness of thedisappointment which followed such an extasy ofmore than hope, she felt as if, till that instant, shehad never suiFered. The cruelty of Mrs Jennings no language,within her reach in her moments of happiest elo-quence, could have expressed; and now she couldreproach her only by the tears which streamedfrom her eyes with passionate violence—areproach, however, so entirely lost on its object,that after many expressions of pity, she with-drew, still referring her to the letter for the letter, when she was calm enough to readit, brought little comfort. Willoughby filledevery page. Her mother, still confident of herengagement, and relying as warmly as ever onhis constancy, had only been roused by Elinorsapplication, to intreat from Marianne greateropenness towards them both, and
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