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CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Posted on 2014-04-28

Mr. Darcy had promised Mr. Bennet to draw no attention to his courtship of Elizabeth in London, and he was a man of his word. He sought no opportunity to see the lady beyond his previous habits. They rode together every morning, for though she could not determine whether it were simple curiosity or the beginnings of an actual inclination, Elizabeth found she wished to see him, and rode more constantly than before. Elizabeth met Mrs. Gardiner by appointment in Hyde Park on Sunday, and found Mr. Darcy there, but he devoted as much of his time to the rest of the party as to herself, and though he called with Mr. Bingley on Tuesday, he stayed only the usual quarter of an hour before taking his leave.

"I am a most unreasonable woman, Jane," said Elizabeth on Wednesday night, as she dressed for the Gardiners' dinner. "I cannot think that I love him; at most I am beginning to like him. And yet I am unreasonably cross with him for not paying me particular attentions, when I particularly desired and still desire him not to do so."

Jane laughed. "It is very natural, Lizzy. Nature is not always reasonable, you know."

"It is very trying of it not to be," sighed Elizabeth.

"Nay, you must not think of it so much. Do you like him better now than you did a week ago?"

"I do. He is more amiable, both towards myself and towards others. I believe his intimacy with the Gardiners dates not only to before my proposal, but to before I scolded him for his pride--insufferable of me! I begin to see, Jane, that there is much that is truly amiable in him. But I cannot say that I love him, or that I am beginning to do so."

"Lizzy, it is not in your nature to fret so. Do not trouble yourself about it. Time will make you certain of your own feelings, and time you have in abundance."

"Dear sister, you always bring me back to reason. You are in the right, I am sure. I shall not trouble myself about it. There. How do I look?"

"If he were not in love with you before tonight, he would be soon."

"Jane! You are grown quite bold. Yet I must confess, I half intend him to be! Oh! vexing man, whether he love me or no! There, I will think of him no more. You are as beautiful as an angel, Jane."

"I believe I am as happy as one. Oh, Lizzy, if I could only see you so happy!"

"I shall never have your happiness, till I have your goodness. I hope you will be very happy tonight, in any event. If you have not Mr. Bingley's conversation almost entirely to yourself, I shall answer for it!"

Neither Elizabeth nor Jane was much disappointed in the evening. It was a well-suited party, consisting of the Gardiners, Mr. Bingley, the Bennets, the Ellisons, the Hartwicks, and the Darcys. In consequence of his engagement, Mr. Reynolds was added to their number. Mrs. Gardiner had prevailed upon Mr. Darcy to allow his sister to attend, insisting that it was very nearly a family party. Indeed, the Bennet girls would be there as well, for Lady Hartwick could not spare Kitty, and it would have been too unkind to leave Lydia entirely alone. The presence of Lydia could not be much of a recommendation to Mr. Darcy to allow his sister's attendance, but he was determined not to show himself proud, eager that Georgiana should know more of Elizabeth, and willing to entrust his sister to Mrs. Gardiner's skillful hosting.

The dinner guests were soon comfortably arranged, Mrs. Gardiner being deft enough to seat Mrs. Bennet and Lydia close to herself, and ensure that the Darcys were at the opposite end of the table. Elizabeth, between Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy, found herself very comfortable. Mr. Darcy exerted himself to be pleasing; he talked of new books and music, of lectures and monographs, in a manner that showed him a man of very good information, and very willing to speak on whatever topic would be most agreeable. This exertion was extended not only to herself, but to Mrs. Ellison, who was seated on the other side of him. He was as determined not to be particular as he was to be pleasing, and succeeded on both scores.

Mrs. Bennet could not help but be sometimes vulgar, but Mrs. Gardiner was able to engage most of her conversation, and her exclamations of pleasure as to the wealth of Mr. Bingley carried down to Elizabeth's end of the table only two or three times. All Mr. Darcy's attentions pleased Elizabeth less than his failing to hear all of her mother's remarks.

While Mr. Darcy was engaged with Mrs. Ellison, Elizabeth had an opportunity of speaking to Miss Darcy, and was as taken with her as before. She soon found that the young lady was extraordinarily fond of music, and they talked of Mozart and Haydn for some time.

When the ladies moved after dinner, Elizabeth found her attention caught by a conversation Mrs. Ellison was having with the other married women.

"I must say, I have never seen anything like it!" cried the former. "He was quite an altered creature. He has always been civil to me, of course, though he can be very cool, and sometimes brusque--you have seen his demeanor at balls sometimes, particularly if some young lady has set her cap at him--but I declare he was quite an altered creature! I have never seen him take so much trouble with everybody about him. My dear, either you give dinner parties of a miraculous nature, or he has fallen in love. I can think of nothing else that could work such a change. Mr. Darcy civil I could believe, but Mr. Darcy affable! My dear, I am more surprised than I can say."

Mrs. Gardiner would only smile, but as her interlocutor was perfectly willing to continue on in the same vein for another five minutes, her replies might be very brief without causing any offense.

"It must be a very unusual young lady indeed, to cause such an alteration. I cannot think what else would make him so civil. He has never had much to say to Lady Hartwick before, and you saw him tonight! Most extraordinary, my dear, most extraordinary."

"Upon my word, Mrs. Ellison, I am sure you are correct," said Mrs. Bennet, when she could get a word in. "He has always been very proud and disagreeable, when I have seen him. He must certainly have fallen in love. I suppose it must be with Miss Caroline Bingley. She is a very handsome woman, to be sure, though her fortune is no better than my girls'."

To the choice of his object the ladies could not quite consent, but Mrs. Bennet was too much of a gossip to be entrusted with their suspicions, and the conversation was soon turned to Jane's wedding.

Elizabeth seated herself quietly by the fire to consider it all. Mr. Darcy was certainly taking great pains--and every indication was, that they were for her. How long his exertions might last was another matter. Her reflections were interrupted by Miss Darcy's coming to sit by her, and they had a pleasant quarter of an hour's chat before they were joined by Lydia.

"That is a very fine gown you are wearing, Miss Darcy. Wherever did you get the lace?" asked Lydia, bouncing into a chair. Upon hearing the answer, she demanded to know what was paid for it.

"Lydia, do not be impertinent," scolded Lizzy.

"Oh! I only wanted to know. I am sure I have nearly as much money as Miss Darcy, but I have never had any lace half so fine. I shall speak to Papa about it."

Miss Darcy was now very uncomfortable.

"How do you like your school, Miss Darcy?" continued Lydia, in a careless manner.

"Very well," murmured she.

"I should love to go to school above all things. Think of having all those girls to talk with, while I am shut up at home with only my sisters and Miss Grey. I am sure you have all sorts of pleasant things to do and see. It must be lovely to live in London all the time. Do you go to the play every night?"

Elizabeth sighed in frustration. "Lydia, they are not taken to entertainments every night. I do not imagine the school takes them at all."

"My brother does sometimes take me to the play," volunteered Miss Darcy quietly, anxious to prevent any aspersions from being cast on his guardianship.

"La! I am sure if I lived in London, I should find some way to go out very often. I should have dozens of secret beaux, I imagine."

"Lydia! You could not possibly go out with a man in secret."

"Only to the play, Lizzy. What prudes you all are." Lydia now took herself off in a huff, and Jane, observing Miss Darcy's discomfiture, came to sit with them. Between their efforts, they succeeded in making her comfortable again well before the gentlemen joined them.

When Mr. Darcy entered the room, he looked for his sister, and finding her in Elizabeth's company, was able to satisfy propriety and desire at once, by joining them. That Jane and Mr. Bingley should soon situate themselves a little apart was a matter of course, and so Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy soon found themselves in a comfortable little group, talking pleasantly. To herself he was attentive, though he was careful not to be noticeably so, but to his sister his behavior could only be described as gentle. Elizabeth could not help but feel that the woman who put herself in his hands would be very safe there.

"Mrs. Gardiner, I have had an idea," said Mrs. Ellison quietly to her friend. "Mr. Darcy pays a great deal of attention to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I wonder if she is the lady who has wrought this wondrous change."

"You see his manner towards her is very calm."

"It is not much like a lover, I agree. And yet he does always seem to be with her. I see them riding the Ladies' Mile together most mornings."

"When I have seen them, she is with her sister and he with his friend--and his friend's sister, more often than not."

"It is difficult to tell, I will warrant you," conceded Mrs. Ellison. "And yet there is a something in his look--I am sure he is in love, and I can think of no other lady with whom he has been connected. It cannot be Miss Caroline. That would be a very bad match--not as to fortune or connection so much as to temper."

"Stranger things have happened--but I agree with you; I cannot think that Mr. Darcy has such bad taste as that."

"I only hope Miss Caroline does not set her cap at my George. Very unpleasant that would be; can you imagine such a woman about the house? It would be beyond all bearing. And yet I should have to bear it, whether it suited me or no. We have been very fortunate in our daughter's marriage. Sir John is very nearly a son to me; I declare we are more alike than Lady Hartwick and I are! He is a very pleasant man, and I am always glad to have him by. I hope your own children do as well by you, Mrs. Gardiner."

"We have a great deal of time yet," observed that lady, smiling.

When the party had drunk their tea, music was called for, and the ladies all performed in turn. Mr. Darcy was very attentive to Elizabeth, and as she sat playing she could feel his eyes upon her. She found that she did not dislike it. He was as attentive to her sisters as to herself, and gentlest of all with Miss Darcy.

"He is quite the swain, you see?" she heard Mrs. Ellison whisper, "but he is very cautious; he will not betray who it is all intended for! I think it can only be Miss Elizabeth, however."

Lizzy looked up and found Mr. Darcy watching her. She colored and looked away, hoping that Mrs. Ellison had been overheard only by herself. "I hope," she thought, "that the time will pass quickly until we can be in Hertfordshire again. I will own that his attentions give me pleasure, though I wish I knew if it were only from vanity, or from a return of affection, but there is almost too much of agitation to call it pleasure! I shall be very glad when we are in Hertfordshire, and out of the way of London society. I hope it may be a little better there."

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Elizabeth's agitations were not over for the evening, however, for Mrs. Bennet thought a great deal of Mrs. Ellison's supposition, and was very ready to talk of it.

"Well, my dear," said she to Mr. Bennet when they were in the coach, "Mrs. Ellison says that Mr. Darcy must be in love. I am sure she is right, for he is quite an altered creature. Love will do that to a man as well as a woman, you know. I have never seen him so amiable!"

"I think you are mistaken, my dear, for he seemed very civil to me when he dined with us last week."

"That is just what I am talking of; when before that he hardly said more than two words to either of us!"

"I cannot agree with you, Mrs. Bennet; he was perfectly agreeable all the while we were at Longbourn."

"Very well, Mr. Bennet, before that!" cried his lady, her patience wearing thin. "Do not vex me; you know perfectly well what I am speaking of."

"I will agree with you, that his behavior is more civil now than it was when we first met him, though I am not sure that our increasing acquaintance has not more to do with it than an affair of the heart."

"Well, Mr. Bennet, I believe him in love, whatever you may say."

"Just as you choose, my dear."

"I have a supposition of my own as to who the lady can be," said she temptingly.

Mr. Bennet took no notice of her, but her younger daughters were obligingly curious.

"You must have noticed, my dears, that he spends a great deal of time with Miss Caroline Bingley. Why, they ride out together every morning! And then he is a great deal with her brother. I am sure she is quite in love with him; she is always very attentive to him, and defers to his opinion upon every point. She is rather proud for my taste, but then so is he, and as she is very fashionable and accomplished, they will make a good match, and do very well together, and so I shall tell Lady Hartwick, when Kitty and I call upon her tomorrow."

"Mama, I must beg you will do no such thing," cried Elizabeth, alarmed. "You would not wish to gain a reputation as a gossip, I am sure. They are certainly a great deal together, but there is nothing in that; and while his manner is very altered, we have no real knowledge of the reason."

"Nonsense, my dear; I am sure he is in love, and his object can be none other than Miss Caroline. Their riding out together every morning is a great point in her favor."

"Mama, she rides with her brother, and he with his friend! Indeed," she added, growing desperate, "if you choose so to consider it, you must say also that he rides out with me every morning, and I am sure you do not believe him my suitor!"

"Mr. Darcy in love with you! No indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, laughing. "For he is so et up with pride I am sure he would never consent to marry the daughter of a country squire, whose estate is worth only two thousand a year, and who keeps no house in London! Nor would I wish him on you, for he is a disagreeable man in general. No, Miss Caroline must be the woman."

Against such determined misinformation Elizabeth was powerless, and she soon gave it up in despair, resorting to entreaties that her mother would keep her suppositions to herself. Though Mrs. Bennet's acquaintance were no more fashionable or highly placed than herself, she was sure to retail it to Miss Reynolds. That lady usually accompanied her brother to Mary's lessons, and if she did not come, Mrs. Bennet and Lydia were sure to call upon her. Through Mr. Reynolds' agency his sister had acquaintance, if not precisely friends, in fashionable circles, and as she was fond both of hearing and of telling gossip, Elizabeth was sure that a rumor thus spread by her mother would very soon reach the ears of both Mr. Darcy and Miss Caroline Bingley.

Mrs. Bennet, however, was resistant to all of Elizabeth's pleas for silence and discretion, and the young lady therefore formed a resolution which she put into action, as soon as they had arrived at home. Following her father into his study, she began directly on the matter.

"Papa, can not you do something to prevent Mama spreading the rumor of Mr. Darcy being in love with Miss Caroline Bingley?"

"My dear, I can no more turn back the tide than stop your mother's tongue," said Mr. Bennet, chuckling wryly as he settled into his favorite chair.

"Is there no way that she can be prevented?"

"I cannot see that a great deal of harm will come of it. There must be rumors enough flying about London."

Elizabeth struggled with herself and spoke again, avoiding her father's eye. "Yes, Papa, but this one will have weight to it. Mr. Darcy has been out riding with Mr. Bingley every morning. I have ridden out with them almost every day, as you know, and so has Miss Caroline. They are a great deal together."

"Aye, and I have no doubt Miss Caroline would be happy to catch him, if she could."

"Papa, such a rumor must involve us in embarrassment at least," she cried, gazing at him appealingly.

"Nay, Lizzy, I cannot stop your mother from gaining a reputation as a gossip; it is too well deserved. And as there is nothing scandalous about the rumor, I cannot see why it distresses you," said Mr. Bennet with a frown. "We know his heart to be engaged elsewhere, but how can it hurt London society to be wrong yet again?"

Elizabeth sighed in desperation. "Papa, do not you see that the news, coming from Mama, must have greater weight? I am the only other lady with them; Mama speaking of it will confirm in the minds of many both that I cannot be his object, and that I must have observed some particular sympathy between them. It is not the rumor but its source that distresses me."

"Well, well, it may add a little weight to it, but I cannot see what harm it will do. I really believe you must be growing fond of the fellow, or you would not mind. It certainly cannot hurt Miss Bingley in her object. Well, well, my dear Lizzy, if you are afraid of frightening him off, you need not be. It requires more scandal than a rumor--even a weighty one--to force a marriage. And if he is so squeamish as to be frightened off by your mother's gossiping, he may as well be off now," he added with a serious smile.

Elizabeth turned away in frustration, and her father, perceiving her distress, leaned back in his chair, watching her closely.

"Ah! I see. You are beginning to care for him, then. Very well, for your sake, I will spare you both what distress I may. I will speak to your mother. She is not in the habit of listening to me, Lizzy, so I warn you fairly. But I will speak to her. There, my dear, off to bed with you. You must be up early, you know, to go riding with your Mr. Darcy. Goodnight, my dear, goodnight."

Elizabeth lay awake for an hour that night, cross-questioning her conscience. She was inclined to believe her father--she thought that she was beginning to care for Mr. Darcy. He was not gallant, and he did not talk pretty nonsense, but he was serious and sensible, and she believed his principles to be good. She wished him well, and she wished him to think well of her--therein lay half her embarrassment at her mother's projected schemes--and now she only wanted to know how far her future happiness depended upon him. She could not settle this question with herself, however, and when sleep at last closed her lids, it remained unanswered.

CHAPTER FORTY

Whatever Mr. Bennet said to his lady was entirely ineffectual. The story was all over town two days later. Elizabeth had been correct that Mrs. Bennet's artless spreading of the gossip was taken as confirmation of the tale's accuracy. The subject of such gossip is always the last to hear, but so confirmed did the matter appear to be that even the gentleman in question had heard of it by the Saturday. Miss Caroline Bingley was therefore selected by all London for him as a bride suiting in temperament, fortune, and connections, and Mr. Darcy felt the full force of the rebuke. He could only redouble his efforts at humility and general amiability.

His walking out in Hyde Park on Sunday, for he could not deny himself the opportunity of seeing Elizabeth again, was taken by the masses as confirmation, and when he rode out on Monday, the thing was considered settled, and all London knew that Mr. Darcy and Miss Caroline Bingley were soon to be married. Miss Caroline, either unwilling or unable to doubt the wisdom of good society, was in a perpetual triumph and a glow of good spirits, and expected the formal declaration at any moment. Her manner towards himself was intolerably affectionate and familiar, and he began to avoid Brook Street and see Mr. Bingley only by appointment at their club, though he would not give up his morning ride.

Despite his efforts, he grew morose and taciturn, for worry was growing upon his mind, and Elizabeth could not but see it, though she did not wonder, attributing his silence and withdrawal to his embarrassment at being coupled with the wrong lady. By the following Wednesday he did not ride, for Miss Bingley's effusively triumphant manner distressed him too deeply, and her attentions to him were so persistent that he could hardly speak a word to Elizabeth. That lady guessed correctly at the reasons for his absence, and could not wonder at it, and yet she was a little piqued.

"He might not write to me--certainly. But might he not have made some excuse, which his friend could have relayed?" She checked herself there, however; she was sensible enough to make allowances for the embarrassment of a man accustomed to dignified reserve, and far too sensible to fret over his inattention, or to suspect his affections of alteration. She was annoyed at his withdrawal; she could not help feeling that this was not treating her as a friend, and that it was a symptom of his old pride. "If he would only come to the house and speak to me, I am sure I might laugh him out of it, and comfort him a little," said she to Jane, when they were taking a turn in the little garden behind the house.

"He is a private man, Lizzy. Give him a little time."

"I shall--but if he does not speak to me of it soon, I shall really be obliged to think ill of him."

Jane, alarmed by this terrible threat, attempted to dissuade her. "You do not make sufficient allowances for habit and temper. He is not accustomed to speaking confidentially to you, nor is your understanding good enough yet to require it."

"Nor should I expect a confidence. But this report is all over London! Why must he keep away?"

"I do not think he is trying to avoid you, Lizzy; he is avoiding Miss Caroline, for she rides with us in the morning, and frequently calls on us afterwards."

Elizabeth sighed. "You are too rational for me, Jane; you will talk me out of all my ill temper."

"I hope so," Jane smiled. "You would not wish to be cross with him when you do see him?"

"Naturally not. But I should not be cross with him then in any event; I am only out of temper with him because I want to speak to him. Nay, Jane, do not laugh! Not all irrationalities of human nature are due to love."

Lydia burst through the door just then and seized Jane's other arm convivially. "I have got such a piece of news!"

"Lydia, do not gossip," said Elizabeth sharply.

"You are a little young to be spreading tales, Lydia," Jane concurred more gently.

"I may be young, but Miss Reynolds is older than you--older than Lizzy, in any event, and she knows all about it."

"I daresay she does," murmured Elizabeth, sighing.

"It is all about a certain lady of our acquaintance, who is very soon to be married to a very handsome gentleman!" cried Lydia in triumph, certain that this tantalizing information would elicit a desire to hear more.

"Have you finished your lessons, Lydia?" inquired Jane gently, taking no notice of this outburst.

"Oh! very well then," said Lydia scornfully, withdrawing her arm from Jane's. "If you two care nothing for what is going on in the world, I shall leave you quite in the dark. But do not scold me when the news is all over London, and you are the last to hear it!"

Lydia swept into the house with her chin in the air, and Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief.

"I could not have stood to hear that horrid rumor from one more person!" she cried, shaking her head.

Jane pressed her hand comfortingly. "All will be well, Lizzy, you will see. Think of Saturday; you will doubtless have all the opportunity you desire to speak to Mr. Darcy then. Much may be resolved in two dances!"

The time for their departure from London was now near at hand. Jane's wedding-clothes had been ordered, the carriage and bays selected, and the drapes and paper for Netherfield's rooms determined upon, and all that was left to wait for was Mr. Darcy's dance, to be given the Saturday of that very week, and after which they would conclude their preparations for departure before Easter; they were to travel on the Tuesday, and be at Longbourn by dinner-time.

"Miss Eliza, my master wants you in his study," said Sedgwick upon the Saturday morning, and Elizabeth repairing thither found her father with the Morning Chronicle.

"There is an item here which may be of some interest to you, my dear. I hardly know if it is good news or bad, or even if there is any truth in it. There--you may read it for yourself."

Elizabeth took up the paper and read as follows:

It has come to our attention that there will soon be a marriage between two of the fashionable families of the gentry. Mr. D-- is believed to be on the point of offering for Miss B--, and all will doubtless be happy to congratulate the pair. The lady being a pillar of very good society, as well as the possessor of beauty and accomplishment, and the gentleman being the owner of an estate widely considered one of the most beautiful and prosperous in England, the alliance may be said to be a good one, if not quite equal as to consequence, and we make free to wish them both joy.

Elizabeth paled and sank into a chair.

"Ah. Bad news, then," said Mr. Bennet drily, fetching her a glass of wine. "Here, my dear, drink this; it will do you good."

"This is dreadful, Papa! How can it have happened? And when yesterday all London was certain he was to marry Miss Bingley!"

"I believe, my dear, that a careful perusal of the paragraph will indicate that they still are."

Elizabeth took up the paper again eagerly, and colored. "You are quite right. The fashionable and titled acquaintance--Miss Caroline is the lady meant."

"You have more of a right to that description this year than last, my dear, but I think the preponderance of evidence is in her favor."

"Mr. Darcy will be miserable when he sees this," she fretted, rising to pace the room restlessly.

"I should imagine so. You are certain it is not correct, then?"

"Papa! How could it be?" she cried, attending to her father almost for the first time. "He was paying his attentions to me not four days ago!"

"Very true, very true, my dear, but then parents are always the last to know when lovers have quarreled. Do not be cross with me."

"I am sorry, Papa," she said with an apologetic smile, "though I do not think poorly enough of him to believe he could have altered his affections so rapidly, under the worst quarrel imaginable."

"To be sure." Mr. Bennet sighed and resumed his chair. "Well, it is a matter for him to sort out, but I thought perhaps you had better have seen it before tonight."

"Tonight! Oh, and his dance tonight," cried Elizabeth, all her agitation returning. "Oh, Papa, what he must be feeling!"

"I have no doubt he is very uncomfortable, poor fellow," observed Mr. Bennet calmly. "Love often has that effect."

"Papa, how can you be so unfeeling!"

"I am not in love with him, my dear. It is for you to share his distress, if you are, and there is not much I can do for such second-hand agitation, I am afraid. You had better walk out with Nan; I have no doubt that will soothe your spirits."

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

As the time for the dance was so soon approaching, Elizabeth determined to keep her secret to herself. To Jane she just intimated her worries, and her sister, though very sensible of her agitation, was willing enough to attribute it to the rumor their mother had spread, and seek no other cause. The Chronicle was always taken directly to Mr. Bennet, and rarely seen by anybody else in the house, so that Elizabeth had, at least, no fear of Mrs. Bennet's reaction, whatever it might be. She dressed for the dance that night with very little anticipation of pleasure.

The short trip to Darcy House began the evening unpropitiously, for Mary was full of lamentations. She had received a note from Mr. Reynolds that he would not be able to attend; a workman had nearly spoilt a commission which must be delivered upon the morrow, and he would be forced to spend the night in feverish work upon it. The claims of Art she might have yielded to with grace, but the stupidity of an inferior painter might be abused, to give her some comfort for the loss of that very great dignity, a prior engagement for the first two dances.

Upon their arrival, they were shown into the entrance chamber, where a press of people were being greeted by Mr. Darcy. There was just time for a brief salutation; Elizabeth was quite as conscious as the gentleman, and could not command a syllable. Her eyes were trained upon the floor, and she lifted them only once, to see that Mr. Darcy wore a haughtier and more forbidding countenance than she had ever seen upon him. By his sister she was more warmly, if as briefly, greeted, for Miss Darcy had been allowed to dress for the occasion and welcome the guests, although she was too young to dance. Another party had followed them in immediately, and the Bennets were swept along with the crowd into the ballroom. This had been built by the present Mr. Darcy's father, in compliment to his wife and her noble connections, and was handsomely decorated, with large windows now open to let in a soft spring breeze upon the crowd within, and prevent the heat becoming uncomfortable. Though Mr. Darcy would not host a crush, the ballroom was of such a size as to have appeared desolate with five or ten couple within it, and so twenty had been invited, with their attendant mamas and papas, aunts and uncles, so that there were now some sixty people in the ballroom, with more entering every moment, and at least half that number in the great drawing room, which had been furnished with tables for cards.

Elizabeth looked round the room and found more faces than she had expected to recognize, as well as many she did not. The Ellisons and the Hartwicks were present; Mr. Bingley had joined the Bennets' party within a moment of their entrance, and the Miss Bingleys were at the opposite end of the room, talking to a group of people with aristocratic features. Mrs. Gardiner saw the Bennets enter and soon joined them. After proper greetings, she came to stand beside Elizabeth, and they surveyed the room together.

"Well, my dear, how do you like it? It is a very pretty compliment, is it not?"

"I am sure I cannot imagine what you mean, my dear aunt," said Elizabeth, coloring.

"I? Why, I mean nothing at all, only that it is very singular that the great Mr. Darcy should not only dine with a certain gentleman who is in trade in Gracechurch Street, but even invite him, with his lady, to a dance in his own house, and force their company upon his noble relatives!"

"My dear aunt, nobody can find your company unwelcome," laughed Elizabeth, though it suddenly occurred to her, with more agitation than pleasure, that it was possible that Mr. Darcy's grandfather, the earl, might attend. "I am sure he asks you only in compliment to yourself; you have seen how he values you and your husband."

"My dear Lizzy," said Mrs. Gardiner seriously, "Mrs. Ellison values my company, and accordingly asks me to dine; but she does not ask me to meet anybody whom she does not know will not object. She would do anything for me herself, I am sure, for she is a very good woman, but she would not presume upon her acquaintance. No, Elizabeth, there is a reason for Mr. Darcy to invite his Fitzwilliam cousins and your Gardiner relatives to the same dance. For myself, I fancy that someone dear to him may once have scolded him for pride. If so, I think he has mustered an adequate defense--or perhaps apology?"

Elizabeth would make no answer to this, but her cheeks were glowing with the supposition. When Mr. Darcy entered the room a few moments later, he found her in just such a condition, and her smile, equal parts agitation and welcome, quickened his pulse. He set his jaw, hardened his heart, and joined her.

"Miss Elizabeth," he began, after greeting her family, "I wonder if I might prevail upon you for the honor of the second two?"

She accepted with a little surprise, for she had settled it with herself that he would ask for the first set, but the idea instantly occurring, that he must open the ball with a lady of rank, she colored, and looked away. They spoke for a few moments on indifferent matters before the musicians gave signs of beginning to play in earnest, and Mr. Darcy departed to collect his cousin. The two Bennet daughters were soon dancing, for Mr. George Ellison asked herself, and Jane's first two had been promised to Mr. Bingley as a matter of course from the time the ball was announced.

"What do you think of this cravat, Miss Bennet?" inquired Mr. George, when they were on the floor. "I am anxious for your opinion, for I am not sure that my man has tied it correctly. I am very particular about my cravats, you know. I am nearly sure he has not used enough starch."

Elizabeth did her best to reassure Mr. Ellison on the subject of his cravat, and when he had heard enough in its praise to be tolerably comfortable, he became communicative. "I am almost surprised, Miss Bennet, not to see Mr. Darcy open the ball with Miss Caroline Bingley. You must have seen the paragraph this morning in the Chronicle. It is, perhaps, not strictly correct to slight Lady Anne, but it seems to me that if he is giving the ball in honor of their engagement, he might without censure have opened it with Miss Caroline."

Elizabeth was in great confusion, and could only manage to say that she supposed he might have.

"Ah, well, you know the family. The Darcys are infernally correct, and the Fitzwilliams only slightly less so. They may venture a little more, you know; their title protects them, while the Darcys must rely upon the ancient respectability of the family for their standing."

Elizabeth assented politely, and the conversation soon turned. Mr. Darcy joined her almost as soon as she had been returned to her mother, to claim her hand for the next dance, which Elizabeth was very willing to grant. When they had reached the safety of the crowd of dancers, she expected him every moment to begin upon the point which must be troubling him, but he was grave and silent. Several times she thought he was about to speak, but the entirety of the first dance reached its completion, without him once opening his lips. Elizabeth scarcely knew what to think. She had been prepared to be flattered, to be consoling, and to be kind, but with so cold a reception knew not how to act. At last, as the second dance began, she determined that they must not pass it all in silence, and made some remark upon the pleasantness of the company.

"My friends have honored me greatly," he said impassively.

Elizabeth began to grow angry. Why should he give such a dance, why invite her at all, if only to be silent and grave? If this was the way he thought to show his humility, and win her favor, he was gravely in error. The man who wished to win her heart must give her his confidence; she would not be satisfied with such public consequence as could be bestowed by inviting her uncle to an evening's entertainment.

At last Mr. Darcy broke the silence. "Miss Elizabeth, I must beg your pardon for my solemnity. I am neglecting you sadly."

"I am fully capable of entertaining myself, sir," said she coolly.

"That cannot discharge my responsibility. But I have matters weighing on my mind."

Elizabeth sighed. He certainly might have spoken sooner, but she was willing to forgive him now. She could make allowances for situation and temper.

"Miss Elizabeth, I fear I will not be able to join you in Hertfordshire."

She glanced quickly at his face, surprised. "I am sorry to hear it, sir; we had anticipated the pleasure of your company."

"Had you?" he asked eagerly, but then sighed heavily. "At present I am afraid it is impossible. I have had a communication--an old friend--there is some distress--I fear I must be gone almost at once."

Elizabeth was all astonishment. His countenance was flushed and embarrassed, and though dishonesty seemed inimical to his character, she could not help but believe him guilty of some form of deception now. Every feature spoke it.

"An old friend?" she repeated, hardly knowing what she said.

"A friend of my youth," he said hastily, appearing, if possible, more distressed. "It may take me some time to clear the matter up. It is impossible to say when I shall be at liberty again."

Elizabeth was more astonished still. She sought in vain for an explanation, either good or bad. That he should invent so poor an excuse, rather than simply owning his embarrassment at the newspaper's paragraph, seemed incredible, but she could think of no other. She mechanically repeated her family's disappointment, but could think of nothing else to say. He seemed anxiously watching her, and she composed herself tolerably enough to make a few indifferent remarks before the music stopped. She prepared to be returned to her own party, but he led her into a different part of the room, saying, "I wonder, Miss Bennet, if you will allow me the honor of introducing my Fitzwilliam cousins."

She had just time to prepare a smiling countenance, when they reached their object, and Mr. Darcy made the introductions between herself and four young people, naming them as Lord Fitzwilliam, Lady Anne Fitzwilliam, Lady Catherine Fitzwilliam, and Col. Fitzwilliam. The usual pleasantries were exchanged before the exigencies of the music called away two of the gentlemen and one of the ladies, leaving her in the care of Col. Fitzwilliam and Lady Anne.

The necessity of suppressing her agitation under such circumstances made her tolerably calm, and she soon found herself, in spite of her unease, taking pleasure from their conversation. They were sensible, well-informed people, capable of talking well on many subjects, and she found herself very well entertained. When the music began for the next set, Colonel Fitzwilliam scolded himself as very remiss.

"My cousin has particularly recommended you to my care, and instead I am keeping you from dancing. I shall make you amends in the only way I know how, which is to tread upon your dress, and move wrong without being aware of it. If you will give me the honor?"

Lady Anne laughed. "Do not believe him for a moment, Miss Bennet; he is a capital dancer. Go; there is a place opened, and you must take it before it closes."

"Well, Miss Bennet," said the colonel, when they had taken their places, "and what do you think of my cousin, Mr. Darcy?"

"He is a very perplexing man," said she, frowning involuntarily.

"I have never seen him so perplexing," owned the other frankly.

Elizabeth looked at him in surprise, but he only laughed. "I suppose I must explain myself. I have rarely known him to give a dance, Miss Bennet, and I have never known him so to exert himself at one--or to such ill effect! He is as grave as a judge! He will offend everybody."

Elizabeth could only think that it was a substantial probability. "He is usually more cheerful, then?"

"Almost always. He can be very serious when he is displeased with his company, however. It is his revenge upon silly minds, to be as sober as possible, and join in none of their humor. Ordinarily he is pleasant enough. In this case, however, as he has selected the guests himself, he can only have himself to blame if he has invited someone not to his liking."

"That is very true--but it is poor consolation for the rest of us."

"Fortunately for myself, my pleasure at a dance does not depend upon my cousin," returned Colonel Fitzwilliam, smiling gallantly.

Elizabeth smiled in return, and though she would not venture an answer upon that subject, soon made a remark in another vein, and the conversation depending from it, carried them pleasantly through the rest of their set, and returned her to her party, where, after making himself agreeable for a few moments, he owned an engagement and departed.

Elizabeth now had leisure to be perplexed. She discovered, to her relief, that she had no partner for the next dance, and seated herself behind several older ladies, who were observing the dancing complacently. She turned it all over in her mind, but she could understand none of it. Miss Caroline Bingley's voice came to her from the crowd, good-humoredly triumphant.

"That? My dear Lady Maria, you know better than to believe anything the papers print these days! There is no understanding between us. He has been with us a good deal to be sure, and we ride together most mornings, but there is nothing in that. He is fond of my brother."

"Your brother? I thought Mr. Bingley was entirely taken up with Miss Bennet," came a knowing voice.

"So he is, but then Mr. Darcy is a creature of habit. It does not mean he rides out to see me," said Miss Caroline, laughing.

"Very well, I know what to think of that," said the second voice. "If he goes with your brother into Hertfordshire, we shall know what to think then. Even if he had not a fondness for you at present, two months in a country house together will make any two young people in love."

"My dear Lady Maria, I would no more go to Netherfield than you would to the moon. I have heard enough from my brother to be sure that the house is just tolerable, and the town wretchedly backward, though of course he does not think so. No, I shall be spared all that. Louisa has asked me to come on her wedding trip of course, and we are for the Lake District."

"And may perhaps call at Pemberley? I understand; I comprehend you perfectly."

The dancers moved then, and Elizabeth heard no more, but it was enough to illumine all her confusion. Mr. Darcy had doubtless likewise assumed that Miss Caroline would accompany her brother into Hertfordshire, and felt himself honor bound not to give additional weight to the report in circulation by visiting a country house of which she was the mistress, however temporarily.

Elizabeth felt a weight lift from her. She could only wish that she had realized his error sooner, for she might have corrected it. However, he would doubtless hear from another source that Miss Caroline was not to be in Hertfordshire, and then he would come down to the country himself. She could only wonder at his inventing such a fable, but she must put it down to his delicacy. Her good humor with herself and her suitor restored, she returned to her mother, and made herself pleasant to her successive partners. Mr. Darcy they saw again only at parting, when a last glimpse of his serious eyes, and a warm pressure of the hand, were her final remembrances of an evening which had brought her as much of pain as of pleasure.

All this she related to Jane that night, and entreated her to lay the matter before Mr. Bingley as soon as might be, "for Mr. Darcy leaves town on the Monday morning, and I wish his error to be corrected as soon as possible."

"Do you? I am happy to hear it," said Jane, smiling knowingly.

"Indeed, Jane, I think I am growing attached to him," said Elizabeth seriously, "though perhaps I am only vain. What girl in her right mind would not wish to receive his attentions? He is certainly very handsome--but there, I am talking like a woman in love; my own reasoning will defeat me. I am not sure--I am still not sure, Jane, but," she added, growing playful, "I am almost certain than two months at home, and a visit at Pemberley, will make up my mind for me."

"I am very content," said Jane with a happy sigh. "To have you married to so intimate a friend of Mr. Bingley's would certainly answer the last dear wish of my heart. But, Lizzy, do you think it explains the mystery adequately? I cannot think that Mr. Darcy would be so mistaken. Surely he would at least inquire of Mr. Bingley?"

"I do not know. It is certainly very odd--and yet I can think of no other explanation, good or bad."

"Lizzy, has it occurred to you yet that there is more than one lady by the name of Miss B--?"

"You cannot mean, Jane, that you think he wishes to avoid you!" teased Elizabeth, to conceal her own confusion.

"Lizzy, be serious. Perhaps he is attempting to protect your reputation."

"It cannot be very likely. And then what is his reason for so transparent an excuse as an old friend?"

"It must be the same as the other, I suppose; he is certainly a man of great delicacy."

"Well, it shall not keep me awake tonight. I am worn out with dancing! And there will be enough to do tomorrow and the next day. I shall not have leisure to think of it again until we are at home, no doubt, and by that time Mr. Darcy will certainly have discovered his mistake. I think I may safely hope that he will join us a few days after our own arrival."

And with this sensible speech, the girls retired to bed.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

On Sunday afternoon the Bennets walked in the park with the Gardiners, as was now their usual custom, and were joined by Mr. Bingley and his sister, but Mr. Darcy did not appear. Mr. Bingley returned to Sloane Street to dine and spend the evening with them, and Jane made known to him Elizabeth's concern. When the girls went to bed that night, she apprised Elizabeth of their conversation.

"Charles is as bewildered as myself. He cannot imagine that Mr. Darcy did not know of Caroline's being to accompany Louisa on their wedding tour."

"But how strange! I suppose, then, it must be myself that deters him. That is very unsatisfactory. All London is quite convinced that he is to marry Miss Bingley; the report is what gave rise to that dreadful paragraph," she added, for she had that morning shown the newspaper to her sister. "Their being known to be in entirely different counties could surely only serve his purpose."

"Such things operate strangely, Lizzy. Gossip might easily have fixed upon you instead, if he came into Hertfordshire. The three of you were often together."

"Together! Yes, and none of us very well pleased by the arrangement."

"I am sure that if Mr. Darcy's only concern is for your reputation, he will join us in Hertfordshire when the London gossip has died down."

"Doubtless you are right. He may even feel honor-bound to propose again," Elizabeth said wryly.

"Lizzy, is there any possibility that he was speaking the truth when he made his excuse? The only other explanations seem very weak indeed."

"Jane, if you had seen his countenance, you would not ask. Consciousness was written as plainly upon it as that paragraph upon the paper."

Jane sighed. "We must trust to the event, I suppose. Poor Lizzy. You may rely upon seeing him during our wedding tour, at any rate. But two months would be a long time to wait."

The Monday passed in all the flurry and bustle that usually attends the day before a departure. Elizabeth thought of Mr. Darcy whenever she had leisure. She was dressed early that morning, for she had half a hope that he would call in before he quitted town, though his intimacy with the family was insufficient to give him any pretext for doing so. They did not see him, however, nor had Mr. Bingley any word to bring of him, for he had not seen his friend since the dance on Saturday. He promised Jane to write to Darcy at their club.

Mr. Bingley saw Louisa married on the Monday morning, and after hosting the wedding breakfast with more than usual geniality and giving Caroline into the custody of Mrs. Hurst, he might attend to his own affairs without reproach. He was to travel with the Bennets, and if a curricle had been determined an acceptable mode of travel in March, it may be readily believed that it was employed again in April. It was a delightful day for Jane and Mr. Bingley. To Elizabeth, riding in Mr. Gardiner's coach with her father and a great part of their luggage, it was less pleasant. She was still in some distress as to what to tell Mr. Bennet. For several hours she avoided the subject entirely, but at last, when he had made some remark about an outing to Oakham Mount as the likely successor of their drives in the environs of London, she felt herself compelled to speak.

"I think we must postpone our plans there, Papa. I should so like for Mr. Darcy to be of the party."

"Mr. Darcy! Is he not to follow us into Hertfordshire?"

"I hardly know, Papa. He informed me at the dance that he had business which called him away. He could not say when he would be able to return."

Mr. Bennet absorbed this in silence for some time.

"Did he say what business?" he asked at last.

"An old friend, he said; an old friend in some distress."

"And what do you make of it, my dear?"

Elizabeth bit her lip and looked out of the window.

"I see. Have you quarreled with him?"

"No. We have not quarreled."

"But you did not part warmly."

"Not so warmly as I would have expected," she acknowledged reluctantly.

"That infernal newspaper," said he at last. "My apologies for the language, my dear--but it was certainly a cowardly piece of knavery, to print such a thing."

"Then you think, sir, that his excuse is invented?"

"My dear, I have known you since you were too young to deceive me. You certainly think so."

"His manner was very strange, Papa--but it may only have been concern for his friend, or agitation at disappointing myself."

"And are you disappointed?"

"I am a little," she owned. "I hardly know why yet. Papa, I think I am in a way to be in love. I like him; I respect his abilities, and his affection is very prepossessing. But my heart is not deeply touched. Do not be uneasy about me."

This speech restored Mr. Bennet to much of his equanimity, and making her a suitable reply, he soon turned the conversation. He did think of what she had said, however, and two weeks later Mr. Gardiner was surprised to find a letter from his brother-in-law, requesting any information he might be able to procure upon the subject of Mr. Darcy, and especially of his current activities.

When the unpacking and settling in was gotten through, the next few weeks passed slowly for Elizabeth. Mr. Bingley called every morning before breakfast, and he and Jane took a great deal of long drives and walks, usually accompanied by Lizzy. When they were not out wandering the lanes together, they were often at Netherfield Park, for there were many directions to give about the hanging of paper and curtains, and the arrangement of the furniture. Mrs. Bennet had taken charge of introducing her daughter's suitor to the neighborhood, and there was a busy round of assembly balls, dinners, and evening parties to attend and to give.

If Mary envied Jane the presence of her lover, she concealed it very well. She herself was very occupied with her paints, pastels, and pencils, and both wrote and received so many letters as to improve her health, for her missives were too precious to be entrusted to the servants, and she walked into Meryton at least once each day in order to deposit them at the post office.

Mrs. Wilks proved an extremely valuable companion for Mrs. Bennet. She was, indeed, just suited to the task, for she was silly enough not to weary of her employer's gossip and prosings, while discrete enough to check a little those attitudes and sensibilities that must be most offensive to a lady of good breeding. Mrs. Bennet called on her neighbors, and gossiped with them, as much as ever, but when at home she was a little more rational. The most material gain, however, must be to Lydia and Kitty, who studied their lessons undisturbed, and were less spoilt in the case of the one, and less often passed over in the case of the other, than previously. Mary made no appearance in the schoolroom, for having acquired that most important of all feminine accomplishments, a husband, her mother could not think it necessary any longer, and she was herself too occupied by her paints and her correspondence to wish it.

As the days passed, Elizabeth found herself increasingly dissatisfied. She had not heard anything from or about Mr. Darcy. That he should write to her was of course impossible. They were not engaged to be married. He might, however, have easily written to Mr. Bingley or even to Mr. Bennet, and this he had not done. Mr. Bingley, indeed, had fulfilled his promise of writing to Mr. Darcy at his club, but the letter had not been answered.

Her dissatisfaction did at least make her better acquainted with her own heart, for in his absence she found that she missed him. Their daily rides, particularly when Miss Bingley chanced to be otherwise occupied, had been the source of much pleasant and intelligent conversation. His principles were good, his information excellent, and his reading extensive. In her quiet country life she had met no one excepting her own father who could equal her wit or inform her mind; she had now met her match, and whatever her affections might be, she missed him sincerely as a friend and companion.

As the days went by, the mystery became fixed in her mind. She was certain of his untruthfulness, and yet she could imagine no other explanation than the one he had given. She could not believe that his affections had suddenly altered, but his silence spoke more than delicacy or concern for her reputation. She could not like it. Mr. Bennet watched her with anxious silence, and if Jane had been less occupied with Mr. Bingley, she would have been half distracted with worry.

One day in early June, as the wedding was fast approaching, she received a letter from her Aunt Gardiner, and hurried out to the little copse, in the hopes that it might contain some information which would relieve her curiosity.

Thursday, Gracechurch Street

My Dear Lizzy:

I write with a heavy heart, for I know that which I have to convey can only bring you sorrow. How much sorrow must be known only to yourself, and I cannot choose but begin by hoping that your affections are not too deeply engaged.

Elizabeth felt her heart sink within her, and seating herself upon a bench read on.

We, and indeed half of London, have had some news recently, which I think it is only right that you should hear. You probably know already, from Mary's correspondence with Mr. Reynolds, that Miss Reynolds left her brother's home without his protection the last week before you left town. Thus much is known to the chattering classes. If that were all, my dear Lizzy, the matter would be troubling enough, but I have more, and more certain, information.

We have it on the very good authority of a trustworthy acquaintance of your uncle's, that Miss Reynolds has been established by Mr. Darcy in Cambridge. Mr. Johnson paying a visit to his aunt, Miss Elderwood, who resides in Cambridge, had the whole story from herself, to wit, that Mr. Darcy had just recently brought Miss Reynolds to the house where Miss Elderwood lodges, and engaged two rooms for the young lady, where I am sorry to say he visits her frequently. I hope this does not give you great pain. I will own that for some time past I had thought that Mr. Darcy was paying his attentions to you, but perhaps I was mistaken.

This more particular report is not widely known, and you may believe that your uncle and I will neither spread it, nor add to the more widely known rumor those details of which we are aware; and I can speak for Mr. Johnson, that he is not a gossip. I believe he meant to warn us about our new acquaintance, and see that we came to no harm.

Mr. Gardiner goes to Cambridge on business tomorrow, and will make discreet inquiries while he is there. He will discover what he can, and advise your father of the matter. If it were found out, the world might acquit Mr. Darcy as for a venial sin, since he cannot be her first seducer, but I hope, Elizabeth, that you will not.

You could never be happy with a man of uncertain character, even if he repented of his faults. As for Mary, I am very sorry for her distress, though I cannot think her heart much affected. She has never had much intimacy with the sister, though I am sure she suffers for the brother's sake.

I must close, for the children are wanting me. My dear Lizzy! I wish I could be certain that you were not too deeply wounded. Believe that you are always in my thoughts, and that I shall always remain,

Affectionately Yours, Margaret Gardiner.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Posted on 2014-05-01

Mr. Charles Bingley, bachelor, and Miss Jane Bennet, spinster, of Meryton parish, were to be married on the 20th of June, in the Year of our Lord 18--. That day being a Tuesday, they would pass the night at Netherfield, and then commence their journey north. They were to take Cambridge in their way, and admire the architecture; then to visit the Ellisons at their ancestral home; and thence to the Peak District, and Pemberley, before passing on to Leeds, in the neighborhood of which such relations as Mr. Bingley possessed chiefly resided.

The thought of visiting at Pemberley gave Elizabeth a great deal of agitation, and she had at first endeavored earnestly, although in vain, to find a way of conveying herself from Ellingham to Leeds without it. To Jane she had said nothing of Mrs. Gardiner's letter. Her own emotions upon reading it had of course been very severe; she had been shocked, angry, disbelieving, and grieved by turns. It had taken her nearly all of the intervening six weeks to prepare to meet Mr. Darcy with composure, and that effort would not have been aided by any of her family's having knowledge of the affair. Mr. Bennet, she trusted, would be informed of anything material by Mr. Gardiner; she had had enough to do in composing herself. She was sorry--exceedingly sorry, for she was certain that Mr. Darcy's principles were good. His loss as a friend and as a lover she regretted very much, for when it became necessary to give him up altogether, she discovered that her attachment to him was rather stronger than she had suspected. It was immaterial now, however. She could not avoid him without causing or spreading scandal, and she was unwilling to injure his reputation, though after an interval of two and a half months she could hardly dare to hope for an acquittal of his guilt.

A close and careful observation of Mary's complacent humor had convinced Elizabeth that her sister was entirely ignorant of the matter. Mary's sensitive conscience must have imparted the information to Mr. Bennet, at least, and she would have been grieved exceedingly by the loss of reputation to her betrothed, if by nothing else. Elizabeth could not be very pleased by Mr. Reynolds' concealment, but she could not be very surprised at his wishing it. If Mrs. Gardiner had not promised that her husband would soon write to Mr. Bennet, the unpleasant duty of informing her father must have fallen to Elizabeth. She was grateful that she might be silent.

Mr. Darcy had written at last to Mr. Bingley, with some apology as to the delay in answering his letter explained away by his having been upon uncertain business, and having left no forwarding address at his club. Though Elizabeth would not enjoin any secrecy from her future husband upon Jane, and was consequently convinced that her former partiality must be known to that gentleman, he conveyed his friend's cheerful greetings in a very general manner. Mr. Darcy had been exceedingly occupied, and hoped all were well in Hertfordshire; was sorry that he could not join them until just before the wedding, and promised himself the pleasure of their company then, etc. etc. Elizabeth understood it perfectly; he must know that she had heard of the affair, and was too ashamed to see her.

This last thought in particular had fortified her in her determination not to mention anything of the matter to Jane or Bingley. She was convinced that some excuse would arise from the master of Pemberley at the last moment; there would be some trifling but urgent matter of business, and he would be regretfully but entirely unable to host them. Pemberley itself might even be placed at their disposal, but its master, she was certain, would not appear.

Jane was not entirely ignorant of her sister's unhappiness, and had she not been so entirely absorbed in her own courtship she must have been sensible of a great deal more. To Mr. Darcy's continued and perplexing absence she ascribed all of Elizabeth's apparent want of spirits, and was very glad that he would soon be arriving for the wedding, and hopeful of then seeing her sister happy again.

That arrival was the one thing Elizabeth remained in dread of. At the wedding she and Mr. Darcy must see each other; they must stand opposite to each other in the church, and sit at the same table at the wedding breakfast. When that was over and done with, however, she would have only to wish that she might never see him again. She was not naturally of a desponding temper, and she was sure that within a year she would be cheerful again. By the next London season, she reflected, she would doubtless be lively enough to be shepherded about the town by Jane, and enjoy the company and the pleasures of such cheerful and elegant acquaintance as the future Mr. and Mrs. Bingley would naturally gather about themselves. Jane would soon comprehend that no understanding between herself and Mr. Darcy was forthcoming, and would be at pains not to bring them together--the future thus settled, she had only one more pain to endure, before she could look forward with a settled, if not a cheerful, anticipation of what the next year might bring.

Mr. Gardiner's promised letter had duly arrived, but could give very little new information, beyond the fact that Mr. Darcy was still often in Cambridge, and that he was still seen frequently in company with Miss Reynolds; Mr. Gardiner had seen them together himself. Mr. Bennet had been shocked and angry when he showed Elizabeth the letter, and she therefore added to her troubles the necessity of appearing tolerably cheerful in his company, so as not to distress him further by betraying the degree to which her heart was touched.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

A great number of people were now in readiness for the wedding. Jane had wished to be married very quietly, but neither Mrs. Bennet's nor Miss Bingley's sense of consequence could be so easily or elegantly satisfied. Mrs. Bennet would have invited half the village if she could, and complained for a week that the Gardiners would not come from London.

"My dear, it is not a royal wedding; Jane marries a very amiable fellow, but he is not the Prince of Wales. Pray calm yourself," was all Mr. Bennet's answer, but he was not attended to any more than was usual with his lady.

Mr. and Mrs. Hurst had come to Netherfield with Miss Bingley some two weeks previously, and it was speculated that they intended to remain in the house while the master and mistress were on their tour. The Lucases and Phillipses were to attend Jane to the church, and several of the principal families round about had been invited to attend likewise. The wedding breakfast was to be an absurdly grand affair, but when Elizabeth had complained to her father about it, he had sighed and shaken his head.

"Do not complain to me about it, Lizzy; there will be no peace in the house if she does not have her way. To be sure, she is making laughing-stocks of us with her fine pretensions, but what else do we live for, but to make sport for our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn?"

By the Monday morning, all the preparations for the wedding had long been made, but Mrs. Bennet's nervous energy compelled her to do something, and lacking an object, she was employing herself in finding fault with the trousseau, and worrying that the wedding breakfast would be insufficiently showy. "It is very well, very well--but have we strawberries enough? Strawberries are very fashionable this year, to be sure, and I have told cook a thousand times that she must see to it that every strawberry is plucked from the kitchen-garden, but she says there are no more to be got. Oh! my poor nerves; you girls never think what I suffer for your sakes, indeed you do not."

Elizabeth had found herself at her wits' end, and finding a moment's opportunity, had escaped from the house, and made at once for Oakham Mount. Fresh air and freedom did much to restore her temper, and being naturally of a cheerful disposition, she was soon reasonably composed. Mr. Darcy was expected that evening, and she would doubtless have need of all her composure then. She was hopeful, however, that she might keep out of his way tolerably well until the morrow, as he would not arrive until after dinner.

As she neared Oakham Mount, she was surprised to see the figure of a man walking up it. A moment's glance convinced her that it was Mr. Darcy, and she turned back instantly, in a great agitation of spirits. How perverse of him to come so early! She hoped he had not seen her, and resolutely would not look behind her. She had some hundred yards yet to travel before a bend in the road would shield her from his observation. When she gained the shelter of the trees, however, she did stop to look back, and perceived him hurrying across the ground towards her. Her flight had evidently been in vain. As he was taller than she, he covered the ground more quickly than she could do, and she could not hope to avoid him entirely. She determined to continue her walk towards Longbourn, being sensible that only upon her arrival could she hope to get rid of him.

When he came within calling distance, she heard her name, and a decent show of propriety obliged her to slow down until he had caught up with her.

"Good morning, Miss Bennet," he greeted her, a little out of breath, as he reached her side. His voice was cheerful, but she would not look at him.

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy," she said coldly.

They walked on in silence for some few moments, each feeling too much to speak, before he broke it again by saying, "I hope all your family is well."

"We are all in very good health, thank you." She paused, but decency demanded an inquiry after Georgiana, which she soon made.

"She is very well, and eager to see you again at Pemberley."

Elizabeth was surprised to find that Georgiana would be in residence there instead of at school, but she would make no inquiry, and was silent. Mr. Darcy now began to notice Elizabeth's altered manner, and to wonder at its cause.

"Are you indeed perfectly well, Miss Bennet?" he inquired at last, watching her anxiously.

"Perfectly," answered she, arching her brows. She was, in fact, furious that he would presume to accost her in this manner after his behavior of the past two and a half months, but if he would not take her hint, she would be more brazen. "I am perfectly well, Mr. Darcy; my native air always agrees with me. I hear, however, that the atmosphere of a college is more advantageous to your constitution."

It was sufficient. Mr. Darcy changed color and fell silent. They walked on wordlessly for some few minutes again before he spoke. "It is true; I have been in Cambridge. But I did not go for my own pleasure, Miss Bennet. Do not upbraid me for my absence. Only the most pressing business could have kept me away."

"So I imagine," she said coldly.

"Can you believe that I stayed away willingly?"

"I cannot believe that a man of your resolute temper, so entirely independent of any other person, could be long restrained by any outside agency."

Mr. Darcy's expression grew distant again, and they walked on in silence for some time. As the house came into view, he spoke once more. "If you will not believe my assurances, Miss Bennet, then I have no alternative but to endeavor to convince you of the steadiness of my affections."

"Under the present circumstances, Mr. Darcy, I can think of nothing that could accomplish that," said she, and swept into the house, leaving him standing on the lawn. She went directly to her room, where she paced about and attempted to calm her spirits, which were much agitated. The effrontery of the man! To declare that his affections were steady, when they had been given to another woman, and within the last few weeks! His cool immorality disturbed her more than she had expected. But she would be calm. She would avoid him as much as possible, and keep her room. This resolution, however, was not very long-lived, for her mother soon sent for her, and given the alternative between declaring herself ill or descending to the drawing-room, she chose the latter. She was unwilling to make a disturbance on the eve of Jane's wedding, and for herself she preferred to keep the whole affair as quiet as possible.

When she entered the drawing room, Mr. Darcy was sitting at the work-table with her mother. He looked up at her with a hesitant smile. Mr. Bennet had plainly been warned of Mr. Darcy's presence and her imminent arrival, for he was sitting in one corner with a book, but he set it down upon her entrance.

"Lizzy, my dear, come and sit down by me. I want your opinion upon something," he said, and she went at once to his side with a grateful look.

"Well, my dear," he said in a lower voice, "Mr. Darcy has come in upon us rather early, as you see. I do not know whether he traveled early this morning or upon the Sunday, but we cannot easily get rid of him, so you will have to do your best."

"I shall do nothing to give Mary any pain, Papa. She knows nothing about the matter."

"Well, my dear, perhaps we had better keep it that way. He will doubtless return to London once they are gone, and Miss Reynolds' ruin had better be broken to her by her betrothed. I cannot say I am in much charity with him for keeping it from her thus far."

"I cannot help wondering, Papa, if Mr. Darcy ought not to be exposed."

"He will not be here long enough for it to matter, my dear, and half of London society would only wink, as he cannot have been Miss Reynolds' first seducer."

"Oh, Papa, it is too dreadful! But there, I will be composed. We will be rid of him soon enough."

Elizabeth sat by her father all the remainder of the morning, unless sent on some particular errand by her mother. Mr. Darcy remained at Longbourn, and could not be got rid of without incivility. He was plainly still endeavoring to recommend himself to her family, and won Mrs. Bennet's favor by admiring some arrangements of hers, and Mary's by admiring her paintings, but Elizabeth and her father watched him with a cold and suspicious eye. Mrs. Bennet was very happy to invite him to dinner, where Elizabeth succeeded in avoiding him, but when they were all assembled in the drawing room, though she had so maneuvered as to prevent him sitting by her, yet he sat close by and began conversing with Kitty.

"I quite agree with you, Miss Catherine, as to first attachments," he said, loudly enough for her to hear. "They are always the strongest and most romantic, though not always the best. Still, I must always be prejudiced towards them, as my own parents' very happy marriage was founded upon one."

Kitty made some reply which Elizabeth did not hear, and he answered her, "Doubtless, your heroine was greatly wronged. But do not you think it a little exacting? Gentlemen are not infrequently kept away. We have not always leisure to act as we would choose."

Kitty's impassioned voice now rose above the general conversation, and Elizabeth heard her answer.

"To be sure, Mr. Darcy, but I cannot think it would be a very happy, or a very romantic, union, which was founded upon an attachment so weak, that the gentleman might be kept away merely by business! So much may be transacted by letter, and then the postal service is so good! No, Mr. Darcy, if the modern gentleman wish to be thought passionate and lover-like, he must not be always off to London to see his solicitor, or to his estate to see his steward. Courtship is not a very long period, and if he is so slack then, what can be expected later? I could not countenance it in any lover of mine."

"It is fortunate, then, that such endurance falls to other lots," said Mary calmly. "I could not love any man, who did not love his ideals more than myself. A man who is devoted to his principles may require some patience from the object of his affections, but she will always find herself amply repaid."

"That is very well put, Miss Mary," said Mr. Darcy. "Gentlemen of principle must cause some inconvenience to others as well as to themselves, from time to time, in discharging their obligations. Surely it is always better for a lady that she be the object of a principled man, however; there must be some period in every marriage where attachment will falter or even fail, and the only sure safety must lie in the principles of both partners."

"I quite agree," answered Elizabeth warmly. "A gentleman who is unprincipled can never be a welcome lover, however much devotion he may display. Any woman of sense could bear an absence with equanimity, if she believed it to be well employed."

Mr. Darcy frowned. "And if she have no knowledge of what has passed in the intervening period?"

"Oh! I make no general rules for such a situation. If the gentleman find his lady displeased, he had best make a clean breast of his activities," said she lightly. "But if he cannot do so, if he will not do so, she may not unreasonably conclude that his time has not been very well, or perhaps even very faithfully, spent."

Mr. Darcy look thoughtful, and then started--suddenly gazed at her with a very piercing look, then round the room. His eyes fixed upon Mr. Bennet, who was also watching him. "Good God!" he cried, half rising from his chair, and then, though seeming about to speak at any moment, was silent. The entire room had fallen silent likewise, for his ejaculation had been loud enough to be plain to all those there gathered, and although the dinner had been a family party, they had been joined in the evening by the Lucases and Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, so that there was now something of a crowd, who stared at him in amazement.

Mr. Darcy turned white, and an expression of dismay and consternation gave way to his old, haughty look as he rose. "I have just recollected some business which I must attend to on the instant. I bid you good night," he said formally, and, with a last, accusatory glance at Elizabeth, bowed and left the room.

Elizabeth hardly knew how to look or to feel. Her first emotion must be relief at his departure, but it soon gave way to an extreme perplexity. His exclamation, his sudden consternation, had made it plain that he had believed her to be in ignorance until that evening. His confusion, his evident displeasure, when his error had been removed, were very natural. She could not triumph in his fall, but she was surprised that there had been so much of anger, and so little of shame, in his countenance. Could he be so utterly lost to all good principles as to think her unreasonable for censuring his conduct? A trifling affair with a fallen woman was not uncommon, she believed, in certain circles, but could he have so mistaken her as to believe her to share such bad principles, even if she had no more personal attachment in the case? And how could she so have so entirely mistaken his morals, if they were so very bad? Her head was spinning, and she soon retired for the evening on the very truthful pretext of a headache.

She was miserable. She wished only for the next twenty-four hours to be over and done with, and fell asleep at last with very little other consolation than the reflection that, whether she wished it or not, they certainly would be at the appointed time.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

In the end, she might have troubled herself less. The wedding ceremony was conducted without any other difficulty than that attending upon the presence of a large number of guests, who seemed perfectly unconscious of their superfluity. The bride was beautiful, the groom handsome, and everybody very happy, save the two principal attendants. The wedding breakfast likewise was passed in cheerful conviviality, and when the happy couple departed for Netherfield, Mrs. Bennet believed herself the most satisfied woman in the world. Jane was now married, and married well; Elizabeth must soon begin the business of finding a husband, to be sure, but a great deal of that effort would fall to Jane, and she herself might pause to draw breath, and to glory in her triumph. She retired to her dressing room, therefore, with a novel, which she neglected in favor of talking incessantly to Mrs. Wilks of her exhaustion and her victory.

The wedding guests having departed after the breakfast and Mrs. Bennet being thus occupied, Longbourn was left comparatively silent, and Lizzy might walk in peace, though she confined herself to the grounds near the house, in case she should meet Mr. Darcy again. The man himself, however, did not appear, and the day passed in comparative tranquility. She spent the evening in packing her trunk.

On the morrow, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley pulled up before Longbourn in a smart new chaise with a handsome pair of bays, and Elizabeth was quickly added to their number. The trip was to be one of pleasure, almost entirely unfettered by business, and they were to travel in easy stages and enjoy the beauties of the countryside, the views, and the good company, rather than to make the best possible time. They went to Cambridge, admired the town, and thence to Ellingham, where they were to make a stay of about two weeks.

Ellingham Hall was an old-fashioned country seat; the original hall, which had given its name to the house, dated back several centuries and, with new furnishings and attractive paint, now served as a very substantial ball room, which saw frequent use. A modern wing had been built onto the house by the present Mr. Ellison's father, and there the rooms in everyday use were situated; these were light, airy, and comfortable. The house stood sheltered by a tall hill, but the views from three sides were very attractive, and that the park was full of beauties Elizabeth could see even through the gathering dusk. She noted the principal paths and eagerly anticipated a solitary ramble on the morrow.

By the Ellisons they were welcomed warmly, and Miss Bingley, who had cadged an invitation, made a very pretty show of pleasure at the arrival of her relatives. Sir John and Lady Hartwick were also present, having come for the evening to welcome the travelers, and when the dust and dirt of the road were washed off, they made a very pretty party around the fire. The elegant dullness of playing cards was not in fashion at Ellingham, and the time was given to conversation.

"Now, Miss Bennet, what do you think of the country? Are you pleased with it?" asked Mrs. Ellison.

"It is very beautiful, ma'am," replied Elizabeth. "The terrain is so very different from anything I have seen before! And Ellingham is a lovely spot. I saw much to admire in our approach to the house, and if you will give me leave I have hope to see a great many more of its beauties tomorrow."

"That is very well--that will certainly do," said Mrs. Ellison, laughing. "I do not expect raptures, you know; it is an old house, and uncomfortable in places, but we have had it tolerably well fitted up."

Elizabeth protested that her admiration was genuine, but it was plain that Mrs. Ellison was sufficiently pleased, and only wanted to be talking. "Old Mr. Ellison, my husband's father, you know, had a great deal done to the place. I should not have much liked living in the old building, you know; parts of it were positively gloomy. But he had new windows put in, and everything made light and bright, as well as the new wing built, and my Mr. Ellison had done a great deal to make the house modern and attractive before we married."

"I was assisted in that task by Mr. Reynolds," said Mr. Ellison gravely. "He has such superior artistic sensibilities! I will show you the ballroom tomorrow, Miss Bennet, if you like. It was all his own design, and of course the principal landscapes throughout the house are his."

"It is a very handsome house indeed," said Miss Bingley. "I like a house better for having a little antiquity to it. If it can be charming and picturesque from the outside, and comfortable and modern upon the interior, surely that is the best of both worlds."

"Not everyone thinks as you do, Miss Bingley," said Mr. George Ellison. "For myself, I think the best must be when the exterior and interior are of a piece and of a period, and yet neither ugly. These old Jacobean places are often quite squat, simply dreadful to look at--we got off very easy, and so I often tell my father, eh, Pater? But there is a class of country houses which are old enough to be antique, and modern enough to be comfortable. I think my friend Darcy has the best of it there, for Pemberley is quite the handsomest place I ever saw."

"Oh! Pemberley is certainly very beautiful, but then it has no flavor of the truly antique," urged Miss Bingley. "It has no ruins or even follies, as I see you have here."

Elizabeth wondered at this remark, but was too discomposed at the mention of Mr. Darcy to venture any questions upon the relative excellences of gravel paths. Mrs. Ellison, however, was soon talking again.

"The park at Pemberley is quite beautiful, my dears, and very large; larger even than ours, and I think perhaps a little handsomer. It is so very natural, and then it has the benefit of the Northern ground. Nothing can match the romance of an uneven landscape! Here we are very cozy, but Pemberley is certainly very fine. How long do you stay there, my dears?"

"We are to stay with them three weeks," answered Mrs. Bingley.

"Them? Then is Georgiana to be there as well?" inquired Mrs. Ellison.

"She has been brought from London to meet us," said Jane, glancing at her sister's countenance.

"I see! I understand. I comprehend you perfectly. It is to be quite the family party, eh?" chuckled Mrs. Ellison. "Well, well, I have no doubt you young people will have it sorted out before long. That will certainly be a very pleasant party, and I make no doubt you may stay a little longer than you planned. Things arise sometimes--indeed they do. And are all of you to go on to Leeds?"

"I am sure Mr. Darcy will not," replied Miss Bingley, who had been listening to these insinuations and intimations with rather ill-concealed jealousy. "He is always so very determined to be in the country at this time of year in order to supervise the farming. He is very attentive to these things."

"Certainly," said Mr. Bingley good-naturedly. "Indeed, I am not convinced he has forgiven me yet for leaving Netherfield during haymaking, and if I had left for anything less important than a wedding tour, I am sure I should never hear the end of it."

"It must be very pleasant to you, to have so good a guide in establishing your estate," remarked Sir John comfortably. "I was fortunate that my own father trained me very carefully in the managing of mine--I know plenty of fellows whose fathers did not, and they had a deal to sort out when they inherited, I can tell you."

"I imagine Mr. Bennet must be a great assistance to Mr. Bingley as well, as he knows all the country roundabout Netherfield," remarked Mr. Ellison. "I had heard, however, that you intended to purchase an estate. Will you stay at Netherfield, do you think, or will you carry out that intention?"

"I cannot say at present," replied Mr. Bingley as cheerfully as before, though he, too, looked at Elizabeth. "We are comfortably settled for the year, and may remain much longer. I fancy Mrs. Bingley might prefer to see where her sisters settle before we make so serious a determination. You know we young married men will do anything for the happiness of our wives," he added, laughing, and looking very well pleased with himself.

"Oh, certainly," said Mrs. Ellison, with a knowing look. "That is very wise, for if her sisters should marry gentlemen from the north, Hertfordshire could not be very convenient. Well, well, Mr. Ellison knows all the properties hereabouts, and will be happy to tell you if anything offers for purchase. Do you remember, my dear, the great Abbey at Holden? But perhaps you would not like anything so old-fashioned."

"May we not have a little music, Mrs. Ellison?" Miss Bingley interrupted, tried beyond all endurance. "Perhaps Lady Hartwick would oblige us."

Lady Hartwick had no objections, and the remainder of the evening was spent musically.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

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Elizabeth rose early the next morning and made for the outdoors, but finding that the grass was still wet with dew, she was returning to her room for sturdier shoes, when she encountered the butler in the passage.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am, but I believe this is your letter," he remarked impassively, handing her a thick packet. "I must apologize for its not being given you last night. I gave it to the maid to place in your apartment, but it seems that she omitted to do so. I shall speak to her severely, ma'am."

"I beg you will not trouble her," replied Elizabeth kindly. "My evening was so occupied I should hardly have had opportunity to read it. Thank you."

As the butler bowed and passed on to his duties, she gave a cursory examination to the missive. She saw by the direction that it was from her father, and by the thickness that it contained at least three sheets. Nothing could have surprised her more, as she knew her father to be both dilatory and brief in his correspondence, but she checked her curiosity until she could find some privacy in which to peruse the letter, and went hastily out of doors. A steep hill across the valley seemed the likeliest possessor of a dry place to sit and read, and she made for it at once, reveling in the softness of the morning air. When she had settled herself, she eagerly broke the seal and began to read.

Longbourn, Thursday

My Dear Lizzy,

The enclosed came this morning, and I thought you had better have a look at it, so I have sent it on at once. As I cannot be with you in the trials that must result, I shall only assure you that I am

Ever your loving father,

Thomas Bennett

Elizabeth smiled at her father's laconic style, though the import must alarm her somewhat. She turned then to the enclosure, which was a long letter in a hand she did not know. Opening it, she perceived by the signature that it was from Mr. Reynolds, and by the date that it had been written at his lodgings in London upon the Wednesday. It read as follows:

My Dear Mr. Bennet,

I fear that I have unpleasant news to tell you, and that which must reflect poorly upon my family. I consider, however, that as I am engaged to marry your daughter, you have a relative's right of information, and of obtaining that information from myself, rather than from any unconnected party, in the form of a scurrilous report.

The shocking truth is that Miss Reynolds has run away from home, and eloped with a penniless young scoundrel, who was reading law in Lincoln's Chambers. She was missed upon the Wednesday around noon, having retired early on Tuesday evening on the pretext of a headache, and instructed the maid not to call her the next morning, in order that she might recover completely. At the time no more than that was known, for she had left no note or letter behind, and the companion I had engaged for her had disappeared likewise. All this occurred during the first week of April, and I hope that you will not reproach me with having kept the news from you for so long. I was in some hopes at first that she might be found and recovered, and I am sure you will believe that I was not eager for the news to spread, particularly until some resolution could be effected. As fashionable society was then exiting London, I had hopes of hushing the matter up entirely.

About two weeks after the elopement, I received a most insolent letter from the villain, whose name I now learnt to be Wickham. He had taken Miss Reynolds with him to Cambridge, fleeing his creditors, as I later discovered. I shall not trouble you with the sordid details, but suffice it to say that he demanded a preposterous sum of money in order to marry Augusta, and indeed made very free with insinuations as to what I might do for him with Miss Mary's fortune! It is needless to say that I refused him out of hand, and set out for Cambridge at once with the determination of discovering them and recovering my sister.

Upon my arrival I instituted inquiries, and found at once that I was not the only gentleman who was seeking the pair. It seems that Mr. Darcy, of Pemberley, whom you may recollect as a friend of the Ellisons, had long known of the dangerous character of Mr. Wickham, and upon receiving intelligence from some friends at Cambridge that the fellow had appeared there with a young gentlewoman, to whom he did not appear to be married, had set off at once to find them. Mr. Wickham had many friends in that town from his carousing days, I believe, for he was very well hidden. When a fortnight had passed the demands of my workshop became exigent, and Mr. Darcy insisting that I leave the matter in his hands, I returned to London.

There is very little left to tell. I cannot think that Mr. Wickham had ever intended to marry Miss Reynolds, though even now I cannot believe her so lost to all decency as to believe that she did not anticipate a marriage. I believe his real motive in leaving town was to escape his creditors, and that Miss Reynolds--for I cannot bring myself to call her sister any longer--was merely a pleasant companion. His letter to me was doubtless a wild attempt at obtaining ready money. It cost him little enough to try. After some while at Cambridge, finding the pursuit too hot upon his heels, he deserted the maiden he had corrupted, and fled.

Once the scoundrel was gone Mr. Darcy had little further difficulty in discovering the lady. He wrote to me informing me of the fact, but my hot fury had been replaced by then with a cold one, and though desirous of placing her in safety, I had no desire to see her personally. Wickham's behavior is scandalous, but hers almost equally infamous, and while the blame must lie principally with him, I can never forgive her. The damage done to her reputation, and to my own, is irreparable.

Mr. Darcy obliged me exceedingly by handling the matter entirely. His explanation for his involvement was that he felt some responsibility for Mr. Wickham's ill conduct, since he had sponsored his education earlier in life. Mr. Darcy remained in Cambridge some few days settling Miss Reynolds into respectable lodgings, and then came up to town, where we met with my solicitor to settle the four thousand pounds which I had intended as her marriage portion upon her. Mr. Darcy being fortunately aware of a respectable country residence, where she could live out her days in penitence and quietude, he was kind enough to return to Cambridge and thence convey her to the spot. She will be safe enough there, and I pray may live out her days in virtue, and atone for her past misdeeds.

I hope this account of the affair will satisfy you as to events. I can scarcely hope to place an entirely respectable character upon the matter, but I am giving out that Miss Reynolds has gone to the north of England for further education and accomplishment. It is true enough. The matter must always be a painful one to me, but I shall naturally be willing to answer any question you may have. I hope that the tragedy will not affect your judgment of my character, or of my suitability to wed your daughter. I will confess that I have founded all my hopes of domestic happiness upon my forthcoming union with Miss Mary, and as I believe her to be as firmly attached to myself as I am to her, I must hope that her happiness will weigh more heavily with you than her prospective husband's present shame. I am arranging my affairs at present and hope to be able to join you in Hertfordshire late in the fall. Until then, please believe me to be,

Yours very sincerely,

Reginald Reynolds

Elizabeth was all astonishment. She had, of course, heard that Miss Reynolds had been established under Mr. Darcy's protection, and the space of time between her departure from London and her settling in Oxford had been sufficient persuasion that she had not left home under the protection of Mr. Darcy. And yet the letter brought the matter before her in a light she had not yet considered.

It was very strange that a young lady just beginning in life, with a loving brother and fair prospects before her, should throw everything away in order to run away with a law student. It was certainly true that she had been desperate for consequence, and yet to run away with a penniless man, forsaking the brother who must have been the couple's only means of support, was an act of foolishness almost beyond desperation. Elizabeth could only imagine that the gentleman's admiration had entirely turned the lady's head. From being the undisputed queen of her schoolroom, she had suddenly become nobody of consequence, and had spent all her time in frivolous gossip, and given herself absurd airs. To find herself of importance in a gentleman's affections must have been more than her reason or conscience could withstand.

What could have been the gentleman's motives she could not grasp. She glanced again at the letter. "Fleeing his creditors." There must lie the explanation for his departure from London, but why he should take Miss Reynolds with him she could not imagine. And then Cambridge--and Mr. Darcy! The strangeness of Miss Reynolds' conduct had put him almost out of her head for the moment. He had been seen in Cambridge with Miss Reynolds--doubtless when he had discovered her. Elizabeth's heart sank within her. Mr. Darcy had been entirely innocent! Acting, in fact, in an extremely charitable fashion, and on the authority of the brother. But what of Mr. Gardiner's testimony? He had seen Mr. Darcy actually putting Miss Reynolds into his own barouche. She seized the letter before her again. "He was kind enough to return to Cambridge and thence to convey her."

She pressed her palm to her temple in an effort to keep the world from spinning about her. Mr. Darcy innocent--a stranger guilty--Mr. Darcy, in fact, virtuous! Caught in the act of assisting the defenseless, Mr. Darcy had been credited with the crime. It was monstrous! She thought of her own accusation, and the blood suffused her cheeks till she thought she would burn with it. She rose and began walking rapidly, paying no attention to her direction, but keeping to the path.

Of Mr. Reynolds's conduct she could scarcely think without anger. To keep so dreadful a secret from his betrothed was bad enough, but to continue to do so when concealment must be injurious to the reputation of a man who was so disinterestedly aiding him was almost incomprehensible. Mr. Darcy's silence was now perfectly clear. He had doubtless believed that she was in possession of the pertinent facts, informed of them by Mary--as she ought to have been. Mr. Darcy's delicacy would doubtless have revolted at writing a letter to Mr. Bennet to explain the details of his generosity when he believed the reason for his absence to be known already. Her cold reception of Mr. Darcy at Oakham Mount must have been his first inkling that she was in ignorance or indeed possessed of misinformation.

If Elizabeth had believed herself miserable before, she was truly so now. Her assertion that he could never convince her of the steadiness of his affections, and the puzzlement of his manner upon hearing it, loomed before her in all its horror. Her accusation of unfaithfulness--she was certain that he had understood her then. What must he not think of her! He had endeavored to rescue a lost soul, and been branded a villain for his pains--and by herself, who had been loved by him! That all love must now be over, must be sunk in anger and disgust, she was almost certain. No man could love a woman who so distrusted him, who flung even his virtues as crimes in his face.

Why had she believed him capable of such villainy? She believed it must be traced to that fateful dance--to the coldness and distance of his manner, and to that lie about his letter. And yet she perceived now, with a sudden shock, that the letter had been real, and his agitation due to its contents. Could the missive have been anything but the information that Mr. Wickham and Miss Reynolds were in Cambridge? He had been eager to be off, hopeful to discover them, fearful for the lady. And yet his manner had been so conscious! There was more there than she could understand. It was too likely that she would never have the opportunity of learning the truth, for she could not bear to ask it of Mr. Darcy!

And yet she would have the opportunity. She was to see him, and that very soon. Two scant weeks were to take her to Pemberley. It was not to be borne that she, his accuser, should have the effrontery to face him in his own home--and equally not to be borne that she should drive him away from his own house, merely because she was to stay there. Could she go to Jane and reveal enough of the truth to excuse herself from that stage of the journey? Would it at least be possible? And yet she was loathe to reveal the matter to her sister, and grateful that she had not shared her suspicions.

There was some comfort in that. She had believed every evil of Mr. Darcy--but she had spoken none save to his face. She herself had done no harm to his reputation. Her father, to be sure, had believed some wrong of him, as had the Gardiners, but it had not been due to her agency. Unable to confide in Jane, and unwilling to confide in anybody else, she had at least kept the dreadful, erring secret.

Out of the welter of vexed and vexing considerations, however, one thought soon emerged with perfect clarity: Mrs. Gardiner must be undeceived, and at once. The real explanation for those facts which were before her, and from which she had reasonably concluded Mr. Darcy's guilt, must be shown her at once. Elizabeth would not blame her aunt. She had feared for her niece's happiness, and she had cautioned her accordingly. Mrs. Gardiner had made no accusations--had forgone no attempts at reconciliation--had publicly shamed no man! She had suspected, she had feared, and she had divulged her suspicions only to protect her niece.

Elizabeth turned her steps immediately towards the house.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

When she had gained her room, she collected her writing desk and went at once to the library, where she had no difficulty in possessing herself of a table. She had some little trouble, however, in determining what she should place upon the paper. Mrs. Gardiner knew already of Miss Reynolds' folly, and nothing could be there concealed, nor did Elizabeth feel any misplaced concern for the reputation of Mr. Wickham. She hardly knew, however, how to relate the whole without some account of her quarrel with Mr. Darcy, which she was very reluctant to give. She sat down at last and wrote, rather hesitantly.

Ellingham Hall, Tuesday

My Dear Aunt,

I find that I have a story to tell, which must paint me in an unpleasant light, and therefore I am reluctant to tell it!--but it will not do. The good character of another person demands that it be made known.

The evening before Mr. Bingley and my sister were married, Mr. Darcy and I had a disagreement which I may as well call a quarrel. I insinuated my disapprobation of the affair with Miss Reynolds, and he made no reply but a horrified exclamation, and a very cold departure. I reproach myself now for it endlessly--had I not sufficient knowledge of his character to inquire if there were not some other explanation? Did not our friendship merit that much confidence? But the truth is that I was offended by the coolness of his manner in leaving town, and almost happy to believe any evil of him.

A letter from Mr. Reynolds followed shortly upon Mr. Darcy's departure from Netherfield. I think Mr. Darcy must have been to see him in London and impressed upon him the necessity of explaining the situation, for he did so quite thoroughly. It is all more or less as we believed--save that Mr. Darcy was not the blameworthy party, but a man called Wickham, who had long been known to Mr. Darcy as a scoundrel. Mr. Wickham was her first and her only seducer. Mr. Darcy, in light of his knowledge of Mr. Wickham and some childhood connection with him, interfered, sought and found Miss Reynolds, placed her in safety, and acted as intermediary with her brother, before finally removing her to a respectable retreat. That Mr. Reynolds and not Mr. Darcy has placed these facts before my father must put them beyond questioning.

I fear you will reproach yourself, my dear aunt, for your warning to me, but indeed you have done nothing blameworthy. You ought, in truth, to have censured yourself if you had failed to raise the alarm as to Mr. Darcy's character, on such strong evidence. Indeed, I scarcely blame myself for suspecting him--but for condemning him untried, I do and must.

I shall close now, for I do not wish to arouse suspicion by a failure to appear at breakfast. Pray give my love to Mr. Gardiner and the children and believe me to be ever faithfully yours,

Elizabeth Bennet

When this letter and a very short reply to her father had been written, and entrusted to the servant, there was nothing to be done but to join the others at breakfast, and to do her best to appear cheerful. In any other gathering her manner must have been noticed, for she was entirely unlike her usual self, but Mrs. Ellison was so talkative, and Mr. and Mrs. Bingley so happy, that by the simple expedient of agreeing to everything that the former said, and smiling now and then at the latter, she was enabled to pass the meal without making herself conspicuous.

Afterwards, saying that she felt a little restless from the travel, and that fresh air and exercise would assist her, she made good her escape, and walked about the park unhindered. It was quite as pretty as her praises had claimed for it the previous evening, and she found herself a little soothed by its beauties. No amount of fresh air could still her conscience, but the effect of exercise and the freedom of solitude upon her spirits was marked. A three hours' ramble brought her as much of peace with herself as she was likely to have upon the first day of such an awakening.

She was tormented by the thought of Mr. Darcy. His character was now confirmed as superior to what she had thought it even when she had developed an attachment to him, and she must now acknowledge that her heart was touched, just when she must acknowledge likewise that he was forever beyond her reach. Her suspicion must be odious to him. She endeavored to pretend to herself that she did not regret him, and that her anxiety was all for the propriety of the situation, but it was in vain. She acknowledged that she loved him yet, and she must reproach herself for her foolishness.

When she returned to the house, though more composed, she was no more decided as to her course of action. That she must not intrude upon Mr. Darcy was certain; that she must not drive him away equally clear; and that she could not spoil Jane's wedding trip, very plain. The rest of the morning could bring her no better counsel, however, and when she joined the family for dinner, it was with no decided plan.

"There you are, Miss Bennet, I declare you have been gone all the morning!" cried Mrs. Ellison jovially as Elizabeth joined the group in the drawing room. "You must have been all over the park by that time, my dear, for it is not so very large. Perhaps you ought to sit down with my husband's steward, and tell him what fences are to be mended!" She laughed a little at her own joke, and Elizabeth assured her politely that she had found everything very well cared for indeed.

"And how did you find the scenery?" asked Miss Bingley, sweeping Elizabeth's costume with a quick glance, and somewhat disappointed at finding no damage to her hair or complexion. "Was it quite as picturesque as you hoped?"

"Oh! indeed," replied Elizabeth, looking a little conscious, for she had been so occupied with her own thoughts that she had only noticed the views upon occasion. "The park is very handsome, and there are several fine prospects."

"I am sure that there are. In truth, I wonder if we might all see them. Perhaps Mr. George Ellison would be kind enough to give us a tour?"

Mr. George was too gallant not to rise to this bait, and replied that he would be very happy to direct them on a riding tour of the park and some of the other grounds on the morrow, if they wished. Miss Bingley was all delight at having gained her point, and the other young people accepted with pleasure, though Mrs. Reynolds would only laugh and say that she was too old for such excursions, and would have a handsome dinner waiting for their good appetites when they returned. When the arrangements as to time had been concluded, they all went in to dinner.

"I am sorry, Miss Bennet, that I have not sufficient gentlemen for the young ladies," whispered Mrs. Ellison to her guest as Mr. George perforce took both the unmarried women in. "It is very shocking, but Mr. Reynolds was entirely unable to join us this year."

"I believe Mr. Reynolds had other matters to occupy him," said Mr. George knowingly as they entered the dining room.

"But he is not gone into Hertfordshire, that is the shocking part of it!" cried Mrs. Ellison. "I cannot think what he can be about, to desert his young lady so."

"I think you will find, my dear, that not all gentlemen are entirely at their own disposal," said Mr. Ellison calmly. "Mr. Reynolds has affairs of business to retain him in town. Do not forget that he is preparing to expand his workshop."

"Yes, I suppose he must oversee all that himself," replied his lady with a sigh. "He is an honest, hard-working young fellow, to be sure. He has always come to Ellingham with us before at this time of year, you know, Miss Bennet, for there is scarcely any of his acquaintance left in town."

Sir John smiled genially at his mother in law. "I believe you may comfort yourself, ma'am," he observed, "for this year he is not entirely alone. He has now his sister to keep house for him, and you must know what a difference it makes to a man to have a woman to look after him. I am sure she is a great comfort."

Elizabeth considered rapidly. Ought she to mention the fact of Miss Reynolds having departed the city? She did not wish to spread the story--and yet if she pretended ignorance now, it might appear suspicious later.

"I am sure that she would be, Sir John, but I believe that Mr. Reynolds has sent her to an establishment in the north."

"Indeed!"

Elizabeth had now the notice of all the company assembled, and even Miss Bingley, who had been talking to Mr. George and cared nothing for Miss Reynolds, was compelled to attend to the general conversation.

"When did he do that, my dear?" asked Mrs. Ellison, though with less of eagerness in her tone than her attentive manner indicated.

"I must confess to ignorance on that point, I am afraid. It is second or third-hand information. I had a letter from my father this morning. He had to tell a number of incidents and bits of news from home, and among them he related something which Mary had heard through her correspondence with Mr. Reynolds, about Miss Reynolds having gone to an establishment in the north. My father is not always very attentive to details," she added, hoping that Mrs. Ellison would make some joke about the nature of men, and the subject might be turned. Jane was looking at her with a surprise and inquisitiveness that came as near to suspicion as Jane would ever come, and Mrs. Ellison gave Elizabeth a swift appraising glance. She wondered if she had erred in mentioning it at all. Fortunately most of the gentlemen did not seem very interested.

"I cannot think why he should have done so," replied Miss Bingley maliciously. "All the most fashionable schools for ladies are in London."

"I could not say. I have heard only the plain fact, I am afraid, with no explanation attached," said Elizabeth calmly. "Indeed, as it is rather far removed from the source, it may even be mistaken."

"It is a very odd thing," observed Mr. George with a frown. "I cannot remember Reynolds saying anything about it. A very sudden scheme."

"Oh, well, you men never do know what you are about until you have done it, you know; I make no doubt the lady had been wanting to go for some time, and got her way at last," said Mrs. Ellison cheerfully. "It is very considerate of your father, Miss Bennet, to provide you with all the news from home. I was always indebted to my mother for chatty letters, but then I do not suppose Mrs. Bennet writes a great deal. With five daughters she must have a great deal to do, and there is doubtless not much time for writing. I was one of only two children, and yet I remember my mother was often worn nearly to the bone, especially during the Season." Mrs. Ellison here digressed into cheerful reminiscences of society ladies she had known, and the conversation turned easily enough.

When the ladies moved to the drawing room, Miss Bingley at once secured the attention of Mrs. Ellison, by praising some drawings of Lady Hartwick's, and that lady being herself occupied in turning over some new music upon the pianoforte, Elizabeth availed herself of the opportunity to speak to Jane.

"Is Papa quite well, Lizzy?" her older sister began anxiously.

Elizabeth stifled a laugh. "He is quite well, Jane. It is a little out of character for him to write newsy letters, is it not? I am afraid I was compelled to tell a little story. You must come to my room after we have gone up to bed tonight, for I have something to tell you. But say no more of Miss Reynolds today."

Jane was so incapable of imagining any evil that, though puzzled, she would suspect nothing that had not actually been proved to her. She would be greatly distressed at the news, too distressed to be told in a drawing room--and yet it must be told her. Elizabeth must have a confidante, and those of the Bennet family who could be trusted must keep the secret together. Their agreeing accounts would do much to cover Miss Reynolds's flight. With a promise to come that night to Elizabeth's room, therefore, the sisters parted, and the five ladies passed the time congenially until the gentlemen joined them.

Elizabeth had not been long in her room that night before a tap at the door announced the arrival of Jane. The sisters were soon comfortably settled upon the bed, and Jane began at once.

"Now, Lizzy, you must tell me all about it."

Elizabeth could not repress a smile. "It is just like old times, is it not? But I am afraid this is more serious than a stolen apple tart. Jane, Miss Reynolds has eloped with a Mr. Wickham. It happened the very week before we left London, and has been suppressed by her brother."

"Eloped! I cannot believe it of her!"

Again Elizabeth smiled. "I scarcely believed you would. But I have incontrovertible proofs." She gave the letter to her older sister, and watched while she read. Jane interrupted her reading occasionally to give little exclamations of surprise and dismay. When she had done she did not return it to Elizabeth, but sat staring before her.

"Oh, Lizzy, it is all so strange. Miss Reynolds eloped! It must be true, I suppose, for her brother would not have said it else."

"No, he would not have said it else. And what do you think of his letter? A very pretty piece of family affection, is it not?"

Jane sighed. "He does seem a little cool towards her. But you must make allowances for the shock of the situation, and his natural anger at his sister's abandoning his fraternal protection."

"I should like him better if he thought more of his sister and less of his position, either with the public or with our father. He is a selfish man, Jane, and I believe a little cold-hearted. I shall keep his letter, and I mean to show it to Mary. If anything can alter her affection for him, that missive will."

"You do not mean that you wish to separate them?" asked Jane slowly.

"Not for reasons of public disgrace. I think, in truth, that Mr. Reynolds will succeed in hushing up the scandal tolerably well, despite his being in the public eye. Oh, there will be gossip for a few months, perhaps, but he is fortunate in the timing. All his great acquaintance being from town, the rumor will be old before it has really spread."

"But you are fearful of his character?"

Elizabeth sighed. "That he was a little mercenary, I had suspected before. But I had not thought him quite so unforgiving or so cold, even to those nearest him. That he should reintroduce his sister to society is neither possible nor desirable--but I cannot think it a mark of an affectionate heart that he dispatches her to a distant country without a farewell or an apparent regret. I can approve his behavior, Jane, without liking his sentiments."

"But then we do not know what may have been the lady's words or messages to him," Jane pleaded. "Her tone may have been insufficiently penitent--though I am sure she is very sorry now."

Elizabeth smiled at her sister's quandary, but only shook her head.

"And it is true," continued Jane, "that I have not seen between Mary and Mr. Reynolds that strong attachment which I should like to see, but then they have not known each other very long. My father is quite right in insisting on a long engagement there. And perhaps the sister is no very good model of the gentleman's affections. They did not grow up together--she was in school almost all her life, and they had only lately been living together."

Elizabeth thought of Mr. Darcy and his sister, and shook her head again. "Well, Jane, I do not say they ought not to marry. Only that I shall be easy with my conscience, that my sister is warned so far as I can make her. I shall not represent to her the impropriety of his behavior, or say anything that could be argued with; I shall not provoke her to stubbornness. Mary is very correct, and she may even approve her lover's actions. But she shall know them, together with his reasons, as he has set them forth."

"And if she should find them objectionable?" inquired Jane anxiously.

"I think she may be excused for jilting him under the circumstances," said Elizabeth grimly. "The engagement has not been made very public in London, and all our acquaintance in Meryton would be sure to side with the lady."

Jane sighed but, disinclined to argue the matter further, fell to perusing the letter in her hand again. "The whole affair is certainly very strange. Miss Reynolds eloped...but it is stranger yet that Mr. Darcy should be her rescuer! That is why he has not come into Hertfordshire, then. I am glad of that at least. I had feared some quarrel between you."

Elizabeth colored and looked very conscious, and Jane's quick eye perceived it. "Oh! Then you had quarreled."

"We had. I am ashamed to own it, but...oh, Jane, what shall I tell you? I had heard of this before, but only a partial account, and had placed a very different construction upon the affair." A tolerably thorough summary of her relationship with Mr. Darcy, as brief as she might possibly make it, was then laid before her sister, who was most sympathetically sorrowful, shocked, and embarrassed by turns.

"Really, Jane, it does me good to hear you speak. You are so very sorry for my conduct, I almost feel I need not be."

"Lizzy, you blame yourself too harshly. It was a dreadful thing to think, certainly--but then the circumstances were so very much against him. And he certainly erred in supposing that his presence in Cambridge, and his keeping company with a compromised lady, could not come to light. Indeed, he saw Mr. Gardiner and spoke to him! Surely he ought to have considered appearances."

"He was certainly incautious--although I cannot think him unreasonable in supposing, as he must certainly have done, that our family had been apprised of the situation by Mr. Reynolds. But as for my conduct, I do not blame myself for wondering--doubting--even for being tolerably certain. I blame myself for having reproached him for it, so coldly and so publicly, without having given him some opportunity of private explanation."

"You were reasonably sure, my dear."

"And unreasonably wrong! I might at least have had the courtesy to accuse him plainly to his face, instead of making cutting remarks in a room full of people. And I know my judgment was affected by my resentment of his behavior at his dance," she added unhappily.

Jane looked at her very searchingly. "Did confidence between you then exist in such a degree?"

Elizabeth colored and was silent for a moment. "No, Jane, you are right. It did not--not then. It might have, in London--but his inexplicable behavior at the ball! I see now what was the cause of it. Oh, Jane! I half think I am well rid of him, indeed, if he can repose so little confidence in me--no explanation, hardly even an allusion to his business! There, you see what a pitiable state I am in. Now I blame myself, and now him. But in any event, though I may have to see him from time to time, I cannot, I will not, go to Pemberley, either to discomfit him there, or to drive him from his home."

But of this Jane would not hear. "Lizzy, be reasonable! Whatever discomfiture you may both be subject to in such a visit, consider how much greater it would be were you to absent yourself! It must be noticed, must be remarked upon. We would have to return to Ellingham Hall for you before going on to Leeds, and that could not escape notice; indeed, my dear, it would be obvious to all our circle that you were attempting to avoid him. It really would be quite improper."

Elizabeth protested, but in vain. The steady sense of Jane's replies, her rational appeals to propriety and to the benefits of concealment, slowly wore away her sister's opposition, and when Jane represented to her what the state of mind of Mr. Darcy must be if Elizabeth did not appear--that he might, indeed, wonder if she still believed him guilty, or if she were angry with him for some other reason--Lizzy yielded with a sigh.

"Jane, you are always the better angel of my nature," she said, shaking her head. "Very well--you have conquered. I shall accompany you--but in return you must promise to assist me in avoiding Mr. Darcy's company as much as possible, and especially you must do your best to rescue me from a tete-a-tete!"

But Jane only smiled and shook her head. "If you do that, my dear, he will not believe that you are confident of his innocence. Come, Lizzy, be of good courage. You must face him bravely, and then it will be easier. If he wishes to speak to you, I think you owe him that. Do not you?"

Elizabeth, swallowing hard, could only admit that she did.

"Very well. And if he does not, then we will go on our way, and every meeting after will be easier. I am sure it is the right thing."

"You are very exacting, Jane. These angels are rather difficult sometimes, I suppose," she said with a sigh. "Then I can only reserve one condition."

"And what is that?"

"You must not expect me to be very cheerful about it," she said ruefully, but Jane only laughed.

The next morning Elizabeth succeeded in escaping from the riding party by means of a convenient though very real headache. She was only just able to convince her hostess that fresh air would be the best possible medicine, but as she did succeed in convincing her she was allowed as much of it as she chose, and did not return until it was time to dress for dinner. Three days passed in this manner, and Elizabeth's low spirits must be remarked upon, for she spent nearly all her time in walking, and though she exerted herself to be cheerful in the dinner parties Mrs. Ellison provided liberally for their amusement, and the evenings which followed, the results were very uncertain.

"My dear," said Mrs. Ellison to her one morning when they were alone, "I am sure something is troubling you. I am not your mother or Mrs. Gardiner, but if you need advice on any point I should always be willing to give it. I cannot but be sensible that I have a reputation for talking a great deal, but I assure you I am not a gossip. If there is ever anything that I can do for you, therefore, I must beg you will inform me."

The sincerity and kindness of her tone could not but bring tears to Elizabeth's eyes; she composed herself however, and was able to answer in a reasonably calm manner that she was indeed a little distressed, but hoped she should be herself again very soon; she "had received a letter shortly after their arrival, which had brought some distressing news to herself, but she would soon conquer her emotion."

Mrs. Ellison looked thoughtful for a moment. "I suppose it was about Miss Reynolds's elopement."

Elizabeth gazed at her in unconcealed astonishment, but the other lady only laughed.

"Come, come, my dear, I am not so foolish as I seem; only because I am often talking, does not mean I have no eyes, whatever it may do to my ears. I have lived too many years in the world, and too many seasons in London, not to know what it means when a young lady is suddenly placed in an unnamed establishment far from fashionable society. Is that what is troubling you? I am sure you need not let it. Half of society will guess at the matter, of course, but Miss Reynolds had neither friends nor enemies enough for the scandal to last long, and it will not materially injure her brother, though as he is of a sensitive nature it may embarrass him for some time. Happily he will have other matters to give his mind to. Your father does not mean to withdraw Miss Mary from the engagement as a result of the elopement, I hope?"

"I have no reason to believe so."

"Then you must not trouble yourself about it, for I am sure that nobody will take any material injury from the matter save Miss Reynolds, and as she is safely established in as much respectability as is possible, no more can be done for her. Indeed, my dear, it is best that you told me, for as Mr. Ellison and I are closely connected with the family, our knowing all about Miss Reynolds' departure will make the story seem much more natural to London society."

Elizabeth thanked her sincerely for her comfort and did her best to appear more cheerful, but Mrs. Ellison, watching her earnestly, was soon convinced that the elopement was not the source of her distress. The older lady would not attempt to force a confidence and, beyond assuring herself that all Elizabeth's family, and all their friends in London, were well, said no more. She did not forget the conversation, however, for she was attentive despite her volubility, and with a longer acquaintance with Mr. Darcy's character than Elizabeth's, she had noted his attentiveness to her almost as soon as it began. Now, seeing Elizabeth distressed, and remembering Mr. Darcy's being so just before leaving London, she was sure that something had occurred to disturb the course of true love.