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could not be deceived as to his behaviour to Miss Darcy, who had been set up as a rival to Jane.
No look appeared on either side that spoke particular regard. Nothing occurred between them
that could justify the hopes of his sister. On this point she was soon satisfied; and two or three
little circumstances occurred ere they parted, which, in her anxious interpretation, denoted a
recollection of Jane not untinctured by tenderness, and a wish of saying more that might lead to
the mention of her, had he dared. He observed to her, at a moment when the others were talking
together, and in a tone which had something of real regret, that it "was a very long time since he
had had the pleasure of seeing her;" and, before she could reply, he added, "It is above eight
months. We have not met since the 26th of November, when we were all dancing together at
Netherfield."
Elizabeth was pleased to find his memory so exact; and he afterwards took occasion to ask her,
when unattended to by any of the rest, whether ALL her sisters were at Longbourn. There was
not much in the question, nor in the preceding remark; but there was a look and a manner which
gave them meaning.
It was not often that she could turn her eyes on Mr. Darcy himself; but, whenever she did catch a
glimpse, she saw an expression of general complaisance, and in all that he said she heard an
accent so removed from hauteur or disdain of his companions, as convinced her that the
improvement of manners which she had yesterday witnessed however temporary its existence
might prove, had at least outlived one day. When she saw him thus seeking the acquaintance and
courting the good opinion of people with whom any intercourse a few months ago would have
been a disgrace—when she saw him thus civil, not only to herself, but to the very relations
whom he had openly disdained, and recollected their last lively scene in Hunsford Parsonage—
the difference, the change was so great, and struck so forcibly on her mind, that she could hardly
restrain her astonishment from being visible. Never, even in the company of his dear friends at
Netherfield, or his dignified relations at Rosings, had she seen him so desirous to please, so free
from self-consequence or unbending reserve, as now, when no importance could result from the
success of his endeavours, and when even the acquaintance of those to whom his attentions were
addressed would draw down the ridicule and censure of the ladies both of Netherfield as
Rosings.
Their visitors stayed with them above half-an-hour; and when they arose to depart, Mr. Darcy
called on his sister to join him in expressing their wish of seeing Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, and
Miss Bennet, to dinner at Pemberley, before they left the country. Miss Darcy, though with a
diffidence which marked her little in the habit of giving invitations, readily obeyed. Mrs.
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Gardiner looked at her niece, desirous of knowing how SHE, whom the invitation most
concerned, felt disposed as to its acceptance, but Elizabeth had turned away her head. Presuming
however, that this studied avoidance spoke rather a momentary embarrassment than any dislike
of the proposal, and seeing in her husband, who was fond of society, a perfect willingness to
accept it, she ventured to engage for her attendance, and the day after the next was fixed on.
Bingley expressed great pleasure in the certainty of seeing Elizabeth again, having still a great
deal to say to her, and many inquiries to make after all their Hertfordshire friends. Elizabeth,
construing all this into a wish of hearing her speak of her sister, was pleased, and on this account,
as well as some others, found herself, when their visitors left them, capable of considering the
last half-hour with some satisfaction, though while it was passing, the enjoyment of it had been
little. Eager to be alone, and fearful of inquiries or hints from her uncle and aunt, she stayed with
them only long enough to hear their favourable opinion of Bingley, and then hurried away to
dress.
But she had no reason to fear Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's curiosity; it was not their wish to force her
communication. It was evident that she was much better acquainted with Mr. Darcy than they
had before any idea of; it was evident that he was very much in love with her. They saw much to
interest, but nothing to justify inquiry.
Of Mr. Darcy it was now a matter of anxiety to think well; and, as far as their acquaintance
reached, there was no fault to find. They could not be untouched by his politeness; and had they
drawn his character from their own feelings and his servant's report, without any reference to any
other account, the circle in Hertfordshire to which he was known would not have recognized it
for Mr. Darcy. There was now an interest, however, in believing the housekeeper; and they soon
became sensible that the authority of a servant who had known him since he was four years old,
and whose own manners indicated respectability, was not to be hastily rejected. Neither had
anything occurred in the intelligence of their Lambton friends that could materially lessen its
weight. They had nothing to accuse him of but pride; pride he probably had, and if not, it would
certainly be imputed by the inhabitants of a small market-town where the family did not visit. It
was acknowledged, however, that he was a liberal man, and did much good among the poor.
With respect to Wickham, the travellers soon found that he was not held there in much
estimation; for though the chief of his concerns with the son of his patron were imperfectly
understood, it was yet a well-known fact that, on his quitting Derbyshire, he had left many debts
behind him, which Mr. Darcy afterwards discharged.
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As for Elizabeth, her thoughts were at Pemberley this evening more than the last; and the
evening, though as it passed it seemed long, was not long enough to determine her feelings
towards ONE in that mansion; and she lay awake two whole hours endeavouring to make them
out. She certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she had almost as
long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him, that could be so called. The respect
created by the conviction of his valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for
some time ceased to be repugnant to her feeling; and it was now heightened into somewhat of a
friendlier nature, by the testimony so highly in his favour, and bringing forward his disposition in
so amiable a light, which yesterday had produced. But above all, above respect and esteem, there
was a motive within her of goodwill which could not be overlooked. It was gratitude; gratitude,
not merely for having once loved her, but for loving her still well enough to forgive all the
petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations
accompanying her rejection. He who, she had been persuaded, would avoid her as his greatest
enemy, seemed, on this accidental meeting, most eager to preserve the acquaintance, and without