 unmoved the vindication of her former favourite. She
rejoiced in his being cleared from some part of his imputed guilt; - she was
sorry for him; - she wished him happy. But the feelings of the past could not be
recalled. - Nothing could restore him with a faith unbroken - a character
unblemished, to Marianne. Nothing could do away the knowledge of what the latter
had suffered through his means, nor remove the guilt of his conduct towards
Eliza. Nothing could replace him, therefore, in her former esteem, nor injure
the interests of Colonel Brandon.
    Had Mrs. Dashwood, like her daughter, heard Willoughby's story from himself
- had she witnessed his distress, and been under the influence of his
countenance and his manner, it is probable that her compassion would have been
greater. But it was neither in Elinor's power, nor in her wish, to rouse such
feelings in another, by her retailed explanation, as had at first been called
forth in herself. Reflection had given calmness to her judgment, and sobered her
own opinion of Willoughby's deserts; - she wished, therefore, to declare only
the simple truth, and lay open such facts as were really due to his character,
without any embellishment of tenderness to lead the fancy astray.
    In the evening, when they were all three together, Marianne began
voluntarily to speak of him again; - but that it was not without an effort, the
restless, unquiet thoughtfulness in which she had been for some time previously
sitting - her rising colour, as she spoke - and her unsteady voice, plainly
shewed.
    »I wish to assure you both,« said she, »that I see every, thing - as you can
desire me to do.«
    Mrs. Dashwood would have interrupted her instantly with soothing tenderness,
had not Elinor, who really wished to hear her sister's unbiassed opinion, by an
eager sign, engaged her silence. Marianne slowly continued -
    »It is a great relief to me - what Elinor told me this morning - I have now
heard exactly what I wished to hear.« - For some moments her voice was lost; but
recovering herself, she added, and with greater calmness than before - »I am now
perfectly satisfied, I wish for no change. I never could have been happy with
him, after knowing, as sooner or later I must have known, all this. - I should
have had no confidence, no esteem. Nothing could have done it away to my
feelings.«
    »I know it - I know it,«
