 previous indisposition which
Marianne's disappointment had brought on. Elinor felt all the reasonableness of
the idea, and it gave fresh misery to her reflections.
    About noon, however, she began - but with a caution - a dread of
disappointment, which for some time kept her silent, even to her friend - to
fancy, to hope she could perceive a slight amendment in her sister's pulse; -
she waited, watched, and examined it again and again; - and at last, with an
agitation more difficult to bury under exterior calmness, than all her foregoing
distress, ventured to communicate her hopes. Mrs. Jennings, though forced, on
examination, to acknowledge a temporary revival, tried to keep her young friend
from indulging a thought of its continuance; - and Elinor, conning over every
injunction of distrust, told herself likewise not to hope. But it was too late.
Hope had already entered; and feeling all its anxious flutter, she bent over her
sister to watch - she hardly knew for what. Half an hour passed away, and the
favourable symptom yet blessed her. Others even arose to confirm it. Her breath,
her skin, her lips, all flattered Elinor with signs of amendment, and Marianne
fixed her eyes on her with a rational, though languid, gaze. Anxiety and hope
now oppressed her in equal degrees, and left her no moment of tranquillity till
the arrival of Mr. Harris at four o'clock; - when his assurances, his
felicitations on a recovery in her sister even surpassing his expectation, gave
her confidence, comfort, and tears of joy.
    Marianne was in every respect materially better, and he declared her
entirely out of danger. Mrs. Jennings, perhaps satisfied with the partial
justification of her forebodings which had been found in their late alarm,
allowed herself to trust in his judgment, and admitted with unfeigned joy, and
soon with unequivocal cheerfulness, the probability of an entire recovery.
    Elinor could not be cheerful. Her joy was of a different kind, and led to
anything rather than to gaiety. Marianne restored to life, health, friends, and
to her doating mother, was an idea to fill her heart with sensations of
exquisite comfort, and expand it in fervent gratitude; - but it led to no
outward demonstrations of joy, no words, no smiles. All within Elinor's breast
was satisfaction, silent and strong.
    She continued by the side of her sister with little intermission the whole
afternoon, calming every fear, satisfying every inquiry of her enfeebled
spirits, supplying every succour, and watching almost
