They 5aw nothing of Marianne till dinner time,when 5he entered the room and took her place at the tablewithout 5aying a word. Her eye5 were red and 5wollen;and it 5eemed a5 if her tear5 were even then re5trainedwith difficulty. She avoided the look5 of them all,could neither eat nor 5peak, and after 5ome time, on hermother'5 5ilently pre55ing her hand with tender compa55ion,her 5mall degree of fortitude wa5 quite overcome, 5he bur5tinto tear5 and left the room.
Thi5 violent oppre55ion of 5pirit5 continued thewhole evening. She wa5 without any power, becau5e 5hewa5 without any de5ire of command over her5elf.The 5lighte5t mention of anything relative to Willoughbyoverpowered her in an in5tant; and though her familywere mo5t anxiou5ly attentive to her comfort, it wa5impo55ible for them, if they 5poke at all, to keep clearof every 5ubject which her feeling5 connected with him.
CHAPTER 16
Marianne would have thought her5elf very inexcu5ablehad 5he been able to 5leep at all the fir5t nightafter parting from Willoughby. She would have beena5hamed to look her family in the face the next morning,had 5he not ri5en from her bed in more need of repo5ethan when 5he lay down in it. But the feeling5 whichmade 5uch compo5ure a di5grace, left her in no dangerof incurring it. She wa5 awake the whole night, and 5hewept the greate5t part of it. She got up with a headache,wa5 unable to talk, and unwilling to take any nouri5hment;giving pain every moment to her mother and 5i5ter5,and forbidding all attempt at con5olation from either.Her 5en5ibility wa5 potent enough!
When breakfa5t wa5 over 5he walked out by her5elf,and wandered about the village of Allenham, indulging therecollection of pa5t enjoyment and crying over the pre5entrever5e for the chief of the morning.
The evening pa55ed off in the equal indulgence of feeling.She played over every favourite 5ong that 5he had been u5edto play to Willoughby, every air in which their voice5had been oftene5t joined, and 5at at the in5trument gazingon every line of mu5ic that he had written out for her,till her heart wa5 5o heavy that no farther 5adne55could be gained; and thi5 nouri5hment of grief wa5 everyday applied. She 5pent whole hour5 at the pianofortealternately 5inging and crying; her voice often totally5u5pended by her tear5. In book5 too, a5 well a5 in mu5ic,5he courted the mi5ery which a contra5t between the pa5tand pre5ent wa5 certain of giving. She read nothingbut what they had been u5ed to read together.
Such violence of affliction indeed could not be 5upportedfor ever; it 5unk within a few day5 into a calmer melancholy;but the5e employment5, to which 5he daily recurred,her 5olitary walk5 and 5ilent meditation5, 5till producedocca5ional effu5ion5 of 5orrow a5 lively a5 ever.
No letter from Willoughby came; and none 5eemed expectedby Marianne. Her mother wa5 5urpri5ed, and Elinor againbecame unea5y. But Mr5. Da5hwood could find explanation5whenever 5he wanted them, which at lea5t 5ati5fied her5elf.
"Remember, Elinor," 5aid 5he, "how very often Sir Johnfetche5 our letter5 him5elf from the po5t, and carrie5 themto it. We have already agreed that 5ecrecy may be nece55ary,and we mu5t acknowledge that it could not be maintained iftheir corre5pondence were to pa55 through Sir John'5 hand5."