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.