fond of each other?"
"Not the slightest. I can remember no symptom of affection on either side; and had anything of
the kind been perceptible, you must be aware that ours is not a family on which it could be
thrown away. When first he entered the corps, she was ready enough to admire him; but so we
all were. Every girl in or near Meryton was out of her senses about him for the first two months;
but he never distinguished HER by any particular attention; and, consequently, after a moderate
period of extravagant and wild admiration, her fancy for him gave way, and others of the
regiment, who treated her with more distinction, again became her favourites."
* * * * *
It may be easily believed, that however little of novelty could be added to their fears, hopes, and
conjectures, on this interesting subject, by its repeated discussion, no other could detain them
from it long, during the whole of the journey. From Elizabeth's thoughts it was never absent.
Fixed there by the keenest of all anguish, self-reproach, she could find no interval of ease or
forgetfulness.
They travelled as expeditiously as possible, and, sleeping one night on the road, reached
Longbourn by dinner time the next day. It was a comfort to Elizabeth to consider that Jane could
not have been wearied by long expectations.
The little Gardiners, attracted by the sight of a chaise, were standing on the steps of the house as
they entered the paddock; and, when the carriage drove up to the door, the joyful surprise that
lighted up their faces, and displayed itself over their whole bodies, in a variety of capers and
frisks, was the first pleasing earnest of their welcome.
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Elizabeth jumped out; and, after giving each of them a hasty kiss, hurried into the vestibule,
where Jane, who came running down from her mother's apartment, immediately met her.
Elizabeth, as she affectionately embraced her, whilst tears filled the eyes of both, lost not a
moment in asking whether anything had been heard of the fugitives.
"Not yet," replied Jane. "But now that my dear uncle is come, I hope everything will be well."
"Is my father in town?"
"Yes, he went on Tuesday, as I wrote you word."
"And have you heard from him often?"
"We have heard only twice. He wrote me a few lines on Wednesday to say that he had arrived in
safety, and to give me his directions, which I particularly begged him to do. He merely added
that he should not write again till he had something of importance to mention."
"And my mother—how is she? How are you all?"
"My mother is tolerably well, I trust; though her spirits are greatly shaken. She is upstairs and
will have great satisfaction in seeing you all. She does not yet leave her dressing-room. Mary and
Kitty are, thank Heaven, are quite well."
"But you—how are you?" cried Elizabeth. "You look pale. How much you must have gone
through!"
Her sister, however, assured her of her being perfectly well; and their conversation, which had
been passing while Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were engaged with their children, was now put an end
to by the approach of the whole party. Jane ran to her uncle and aunt, and welcomed and thanked
them both, with alternate smiles and tears.
When they were all in the drawing-room, the questions which Elizabeth had already asked were
of course repeated by the others, and they soon found that Jane had no intelligence to give. The
sanguine hope of good, however, which the benevolence of her heart suggested had not yet
deserted her; she still expected that it would all end well, and that every morning would bring
some letter, either from Lydia or her father, to explain their proceedings, and, perhaps, announce
their marriage.
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Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few minutes' conversation together,
received them exactly as might be expected; with tears and lamentations of regret, invectives
against the villainous conduct of Wickham, and complaints of her own sufferings and ill-usage;
blaming everybody but the person to whose ill-judging indulgence the errors of her daughter
must principally be owing.
"If I had been able," said she, "to carry my point in going to Brighton, with all my family, THIS
would not have happened; but poor dear Lydia had nobody to take care of her. Why did the
Forsters ever let her go out of their sight? I am sure there was some great neglect or other on
their side, for she is not the kind of girl to do such a thing if she had been well looked after. I
always thought they were very unfit to have the charge of her; but I was overruled, as I always
am. Poor dear child! And now here's Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will fight Wickham,
wherever he meets him and then he will be killed, and what is to become of us all? The Collinses
will turn us out before he is cold in his grave, and if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not
know what we shall do."
They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas; and Mr. Gardiner, after general assurances of his
affection for her and all her family, told her that he meant to be in London the very next day, and
would assist Mr. Bennet in every endeavour for recovering Lydia.
"Do not give way to useless alarm," added he; "though it is right to be prepared for the worst,
there is no occasion to look on it as certain. It is not quite a week since they left Brighton. In a
few days more we may gain some news of them; and till we know that they are not married, and
have no design of marrying, do not let us give the matter over as lost. As soon as I get to town I
shall go to my brother, and make him come home with me to Gracechurch Street; and then we
may consult together as to what is to be done."
"Oh! my dear brother," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that is exactly what I could most wish for. And
now do, when you get to town, find them out, wherever they may be; and if they are not married
already, MAKE them marry. And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, but tell
Lydia she shall have as much money as she chooses to buy them, after they are married. And,
above all, keep Mr. Bennet from fighting. Tell him what 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
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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 moderation to her, as well in her hopes as her fear; and after talking with
her in this manner till dinner was on the table, they all left her to vent all her feelings on the