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> as Lydia informed you, attended the wedding. He dined with us

> the next day, and was to leave town again on Wednesday or Thurs-

> day. Will you be very angry with me, my dear Lizzy, if I take this

> opportunity of saying (what I was never bold enough to say before)

> how much I like him? His behaviour to us has, in every respect,

> been as pleasing as when we were in Derbyshire. His understanding

> and opinions all please me; he wants nothing but a little more

> liveliness, and _that,_ if he marry _prudently,_ his wife may teach him.

> I thought him very sly; he hardly ever mentioned your name. But

> slyness seems the fashion. Pray forgive me, if I have been very

> presuming, or at least do not punish me so far as to exclude me

> from P. I shall never be quite happy till I have been all round the

> park. A low phaeton with a nice little pair of ponies would be the

> very thing. But I must write no more. The children have been

> wanting me this half-hour. -- Yours very sincerely,'

>

> M. Gardiner

The contents of this letter threw Elizabeth into a flutter

of spirits, in which it was difficult to determine whether

pleasure or pain bore the greatest share. The vague and

unsettled suspicions which uncertainty had produced of what

Mr. Darcy might have been doing to forward her sister's

match, which she had feared to encourage, as an exertion

of goodness too great to be probable, and at the same time

dreaded to be just, from the pain of obligation, were proved

beyond their greatest extent to be true! He had followed

them purposely to town, he had taken on himself all the

trouble and mortification attendant on such a research; in

which supplication had been necessary to a woman whom

he must abominate and despise, and where he was reduced

to meet, frequently meet, reason with, persuade, and finally

bribe, the man whom he always most wished to avoid, and

whose very name it was punishment to him to pronounce.

He had done all this for a girl whom he could neither

regard nor esteem. Her heart did whisper that he had

done it for her. But it was a hope shortly checked by

other considerations; and she soon felt that even her vanity

was insufficient, when required to depend on his affection

for her, for a woman who had already refused him, as

able to overcome a sentiment so natural as abhorrence

against relationship with Wickham. Brother-in-law of

Wickham! Every kind of pride must revolt from the con-

nection. He had, to be sure, done much. She was ashamed

to think how much. But he had given a reason for his

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