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my own daughters. I suppose you have heard of it; indeed, you

must have seen it in the papers. It was in the Times and the

Courier, I know; though it was not put in as it ought to be. It

was only said: "Lately, George Wickham, Esq. to Miss Lydia

Bennet," without there being a syllable said of her father, or the

place where she lived, or any thing. It was my brother Gardiner's

drawing up too, and I wonder how he came to make such an

awkward business of it. Did you see it?'

Bingley replied that he did, and made his congratulations.

Elizabeth dared not lift up her eyes. How Mr. Darcy looked,

therefore, she could not tell.

'It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter well

married,' continued her mother; 'but at the same time, Mr. Bing-

ley, it is very hard to have her taken away from me. They are

gone down to Newcastle, a place quite northward, it seems, and

there they are to stay, I do not know how long. His regiment is

there; for I suppose you have heard of his leaving the shire,

and of his being gone into the Regulars. Thank Heaven! he has

some friends, though, perhaps, not so many as he deserves.'

Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy, was in

such misery of shame, that she could hardly keep her seat. It

drew from her, however, the exertion of speaking, which nothing

else had so effectually done before; and she asked Bingley, whether

he meant to make any stay in the country at present. A few

weeks, he believed.

'When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley,' said

her mother, 'I beg you will come here, and shoot as many as you

please, on Mr. Bennet's manor. I am sure he will be vastly

happy to oblige you, and will save all the best of the covies

for you.'

Elizabeth's misery increased at such unnecessary, such officious

attention! Were the same fair prospect to arise at present, as had

flattered them a year ago, every thing, she was persuaded, would be

hastening to the same vexatious conclusion. At that instant she

felt, that years of happiness could not make Jane or herself amends,

for moments of such painful confusion.

'The first wish of my heart,' said she to herself, 'is never more

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