“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, Edward will not be very unwilling to accept the charge.”

Poor Edward muttered something, but what it was, nobody knew, not even himself. But Marianne, who saw his