"And now do you pity me, Miss Dashwood? Or have I said all this to no purpose? Am I – be it only one degree – am I less guilty in your opinion than I was before?"

Elinor remained silent as she thought carefully over all Willoughby had just said:

"To have resisted such attractions, to have withstood such tenderness! Is there a man on earth who could have done it? Yes, I found myself, by insensible degrees, sincerely fond of her; and the happiest hours of my life were what I spent with her..."

"… I had determined, as soon as I could engage her alone, to justify the attentions I had so invariably paid her, and openly assure her of an affection which I had already taken such pains to display."

"Her taste, her opinions – I believe they are better known to me than my own – and I am sure they are dearer."

"I felt that she was infinitely dearer to me than any other woman in the world..."

If Elinor assumed he was telling the truth, Willoughby had once, indeed, truly loved her sister. He had not deceived Marianne about his affection and attachment towards her or wantonly sported with her feelings for his own amusement like men who belonged to that race of dishonourable rakes. He had not been after a conquest to satisfy his own vanity and give himself a smug sense of power but had been legitimately attached to her, valued her, and desired her more than any other woman to be his wife. Marianne had, evidently, been correct when she asserted, "He did feel the same way!" He had loved her, and his love had been genuine...

Yet, he had hurt her more than anyone had ever hurt her in her life:

"To avoid a comparative poverty, which her affection and her society would have deprived of all its horrors, I have, by raising myself to affluence, lost everything that could make it a blessing."

"My affection for Marianne, my thorough conviction of her attachment to me – it was all insufficient to outweigh that dread of poverty, or get the better of those false ideas of the necessity of riches..."

"Well, I went, left all that I loved, and went to those to whom, at best, I was only indifferent."

"I felt that she was infinitely dearer to me than any other woman in the world, and that I was using her infamously."

He had loved her, yet he had used her infamously, in complete knowledge, complete freedom, and complete control of his actions. He had broken her heart and abandoned her even as he loved her. His motive behind such conduct was neither pride, vanity, nor lust – the motives of a rake – but greed. He had knowingly and willingly sacrificed the woman he loved to his own greed and selfishness. Did his sincere affection for Marianne lessen his guilt by some degrees?

"No."

Willoughby started at the word that passed so firmly and coldly from his audience's lips. It matched the reproach and disgust in Elinor's eyes as she explained: "You are acquitted of the sin of callously sporting with a woman's affections and honour for your own amusement. This, however, is because you sincerely loved the woman you were courting and showed her nothing but what you truly felt. The attentions you paid her at Barton were not an act; your affection for Marianne was as strong as it appeared."

"Indeed, so why..."

"This makes your treatment of her even more reprehensible." Elinor gave him a pause to recover, which it was plain he needed, before going on: "To mistreat one who means nothing to you, as you did Miss Williams, to sacrifice an innocent to your passions and desires, is inexcusably wrong enough. But it takes a special kind of evil to sacrifice someone you love. Your treatment of Marianne, your conduct to her in London, was abominable... and, you claim, that is not how you treat your enemies or even those to whom you are indifferent, but those you love... Mr. Willoughby, if I am to believe what you tell me about your love for my sister, then I am to believe that you knowingly and willingly caused pain to one you love and cherish deeply for your own material gain, that you were able to sacrifice her happiness, peace of mind, hopes, and dreams, and risk her honour and reputation, for your own selfish desires. Marianne, the woman you claim to love, was a price you were willing to pay for wealth. Your conduct has been viciously wrong; if you loved the object of it, the one whom it hurt the most, the one who suffered the most as a result, that increases the evil of the action. The ability to treat one you love so abhorrently disgusts me far more than had you acted so towards a woman you hated or cared nothing for. You have sacrificed the woman you say you value above all others for a woman who means nothing to you, not out of pride or careless amusement, but out of greed. I can find no light in which this makes you appear less guilty, Mr. Willoughby."

He began to mumble, "But I..." and similar phrases but soon gave it all up with a sigh. "I see your heart is as coldly rational as your sister always said."

"Rational, I should hope so, Mr. Willoughby, but do not project the coldness of your own heart onto mine. I have no compassion for the man who could use my sister so, and I do not expect you would find any older sister in the whole of the civilized world who would."

"You can have no sympathy for the torture I suffer?"

"I wish with all my heart that you had not taken the steps to cause it, but I am confused that you expected to feel otherwise. Were you not prepared to suffer? Did you expect to be happy in your life of affluence, despite knowing how Marianne would suffer? Is the torture endured by those you love of so little concern to you, that you did not anticipate torture as a natural side-effect of the outcome of your scheme?" When it became obvious that Willoughby had no reply, Elinor sighed and shook her head. "If your purpose in coming here was to acquit yourself of being a common reprobate with a reprobate's common goal, you have done so, Mr. Willoughby... but your guilt in intentionally harming someone you loved and valued for your own personal gain is far worse."