{{prxprp248.jpg}} || 248 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE ||

a dreadful state I am in -- that I am frighted out of my wits; and

have such tremblings, such flutterings, all over me, such spasms

in my side, and pains in my head, and such beatings at heart, that

I can get no rest by night nor by day. And tell my dear Lydia,

not to give any directions about her clothes, till she has seen me,

for she does not know which are the best warehouses. Oh!

brother, how kind you are! I know you will contrive it all.'

But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again of his earnest

endeavours in the cause, could not avoid recommending modera^

tion to her, as well in her hopes as her fears; and after talking with

her in this manner till dinner was on table, they left her to vent

all her feelings on the housekeeper, who attended, in the absence

of her daughters.

Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was no

real occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did not

attempt to oppose it, for they knew that she had not prudence

enough to hold her tongue before the servants, while they waited

at table, and judged it better that one only of the household, and

the one whom they could most trust, should comprehend all her

fears and solicitude on the subject.

In the dining-room they were soon joined by Mary and Kitty,

who had been too busily engaged in their separate apartments, to

make their appearance before. One came from her books, and

the other from her toilette. The faces of both, however, were

tolerably calm; and no change was visible in either, except that

the loss of her favourite sister, or the anger which she had herself

incurred in the business, had given something more of fretfulness

than usual to the accents of Kitty. As for Mary, she was mistress

enough of herself to whisper to Elizabeth, with countenance of

grave reflection, soon after they were seated at table --

'This is a most unfortunate affair; and will probably be much

talked of. But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into

the wounded bosoms of each other the balm of sisterly consolation.'

Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, she

added, 'Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw

from it this useful lesson: that loss of virtue in a female is irretriev

able -- that one false step involves her in endless ruin -- that her

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