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Chapter LIII

Mr. Wickham was so perfectly satisfied with this

conversation, that he never again distressed him-

self, or provoked his dear sister Elizabeth, by intro-

ducing the subject of it; and she was pleased to find that

she had said enough to keep him quiet.

The day of his and Lydia's departure soon came, and

Mrs. Bennet was forced to submit to a separation, which,

as her husband by no means entered into her scheme of

their all going to Newcastle, was likely to continue at least

a twelvemonth.

'Oh, my dear Lydia,' she cried, 'when shall we meet

again?'

'O Lord! I don't know. Not these two or three years,

perhaps.'

'Write to me very often, my dear.'

'As often as I can. But you know married women have

never much time for writing. My sisters may write to _me._

They will have nothing else to do.'

Mr. Wickham's adieus were much more affectionate than

his wife's. He smiled, looked handsome, and said many

pretty things.

'He is as fine a fellow,' said Mr. Bennet, as soon as they

were out of the house, 'as ever I saw. He simpers, and

smirks, and makes love to us all. I am prodigiously proud

of him. I defy even Sir William Lucas himself to produce a

more valuable son-in-law.'

The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very dull for

several days.

'I often think,' said she, 'that there is nothing so bad as

parting with one's friends. One seems so forlorn without

them.'

'This is the consequence, you see, madam, of marrying

a daughter,' said Elizabeth. 'It must make you better satis-

fied that your other four are single.'

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