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Chapter LII

Elizabeth had the satisfaction of receiving an an-

swer to her letter as soon as she possibly could. She

was no sooner in possession of it, than hurrying

into the little copse, where she was least likely to be inter-

rupted, she sat down on one of the benches, and prepared

to be happy; for the length of the letter convinced her that

it did not contain a denial.

> Gracechurch Street, Sept. 6.

>

> 'My Dear Niece -- I have just received your letter, and shall devote

> this whole morning to answering it, as I foresee that a _little_ writing

> will not comprise what I have to tell you. I must confess myself

> surprised by your application; I did not expect it from _you._ Don't

> think me angry, however, for I only mean to let you know that I had

> not imagined such inquiries to be necessary on _your_ side. If you

> do not choose to understand me, forgive my impertinence. Your

> uncle is as much surprised as I am; and nothing but the belief of

> your being a party concerned would have allowed him to act as he

> has done. But if you are really innocent and ignorant, I must be

> more explicit. On the very day of my coming home from Longbourn,

> your uncle had a most unexpected visitor. Mr. Darcy called, and

> was shut up with him several hours. It was all over before I

> arrived; so my curiosity was not so dreadfully racked as _yours_ seems

> to have been. He came to tell Mr. Gardiner that he had found out

> where your sister and Mr. Wickham were, and that he had seen

> and talked with them both -- Wickham repeatedly, Lydia once. From

> what I can collect, he left Derbyshire only one day after ourselves,

> and came to town with the resolution of hunting for them. The

> motive professed was his conviction of its being owing to himself

> that Wickham's worthlessness had not been so well known as to

> make it impossible for any young woman of character to love or

> confide in him. He generously imputed the whole to his mistaken

> pride, and confessed that he had before thought it beneath him to

> lay his private actions open to the world. His character was to

> speak for itself. He called it, therefore, his duty to step forward,

> and endeavour to remedy an evil which had been brought on by

> himself. If he _had_ _another_ motive, I am sure it would never disgrace

> him. He had been some days in town before he was able to discover

> them; but he had something to direct his search, which was more

> than _we_ had; and the consciousness of this was another reason for

> his resolving to follow us. There is a lady, it seems, a Mrs. Younge,

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