She could not refuse to give him hers;--he pressed it with affection.
"And you DO think something better of me than you did ?"--said he, letting it fall, and leaning against the mantel-piece as if forgetting he was to go.
Elinor assured him that she did;--that she forgave, pitied, wished him well--was even interested in his happiness--and added some gentle counsel as to the behaviour most likely to promote it.

His answer was not very encouraging.
"As to that," said he, "I must rub through the world as well as I can.
Domestic happiness is out of the question.

If, however, I am allowed to think that you and yours feel an interest in my fate and actions, it may be the means--it may put me on my guard--at least, it may be something to live for.

Marianne to be sure is lost to me for ever.
Were I even by any blessed chance at liberty again--" Elinor stopped him with a reproof.
"Well,"-- he replied--"once more good bye.

I shall now go away and live in dread of one event." "What do you mean ?" "Your sister's marriage." "You are very wrong.