Почуття та чутливість

Chapter XLIV

           Myjourneytotown—travellingwithmyownhorses,andthereforesotediously—nocreaturetospeakto—myownreflectionssocheerful—whenIlookedforwardeverythingsoinviting!—whenIlookedbackatBarton,thepicturesosoothing!—oh,itwasablessedjourney!"

           Hestopped.

           "Well,sir,"saidElinor,who,thoughpityinghim,grewimpatientforhisdeparture,"andthisisall?"

           "Ah!—no,—haveyouforgotwhatpassedintown?—Thatinfamousletter—Didsheshewityou?"

           "Yes,Isaweverynotethatpassed."

           "Whenthefirstofhersreachedme(asitimmediatelydid,forIwasintownthewholetime,)whatIfeltis—inthecommonphrase,nottobeexpressed;inamoresimpleone—perhapstoosimpletoraiseanyemotion—myfeelingswerevery,verypainful.—Everyline,everywordwas—inthehackneyedmetaphorwhichtheirdearwriter,wereshehere,wouldforbid—adaggertomyheart.ToknowthatMariannewasintownwas—inthesamelanguage—athunderbolt.—Thunderboltsanddaggers!—whatareproofwouldshehavegivenme!—hertaste,heropinions—Ibelievetheyarebetterknowntomethanmyown,—andIamsuretheyaredearer."

           Elinor’sheart,whichhadundergonemanychangesinthecourseofthisextraordinaryconversation,wasnowsoftenedagain;—yetshefeltitherdutytochecksuchideasinhercompanionasthelast.

           "Thisisnotright,Mr.Willoughby.—Rememberthatyouaremarried.Relateonlywhatinyourconscienceyouthinknecessaryformetohear.

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