or two all were silent; while Marianne was looking with the
most speaking tenderness, sometimes at Edward and sometimes
at Elinor, regretting only that their delight in each
other should be checked by Lucy's unwelcome presence.
Edward was the first to speak, and it was to notice
Marianne's altered looks, and express his fear of her
not finding London agree with her.

"Oh, don't think of me!" she replied with spirited
earnestness, though her eyes were filled with tears
as she spoke, "don't think of MY health. Elinor is well,
you see. That must be enough for us both."

This remark was not calculated to make Edward or
Elinor more easy, nor to conciliate the good will of Lucy,
who looked up at Marianne with no very benignant expression.

"Do you like London?" said Edward, willing to say
any thing that might introduce another subject.

"Not at all. I expected much pleasure in it,
but I have found none. The sight of you, Edward, is the
only comfort it has afforded; and thank Heaven! you
are what you always were!"

She paused--no one spoke.

"I think, Elinor," she presently added, "we must
employ Edward to take care of us in our return to Barton.
In a week or two, I suppose, we shall be going; and, I trust,