quarter, from Mr. Collins; which, as Jane had received directions to open all that came for him in
his absence, she accordingly read; and Elizabeth, who knew what curiosities his letters always
were, looked over her, and read it likewise. It was as follows:
"MY DEAR SIR,
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"I feel myself called upon, by our relationship, and my situation in life, to condole with you on
the grievous affliction you are now suffering under, of which we were yesterday informed by a
letter from Hertfordshire. Be assured, my dear sir, that Mrs. Collins and myself sincerely
sympathise with you and all your respectable family, in your present distress, which must be of
the bitterest kind, because proceeding from a cause which no time can remove. No arguments
shall be wanting on my part that can alleviate so severe a misfortune—or that may comfort you,
under a circumstance that must be of all others the most afflicting to a parent's mind. The death
of your daughter would have been a blessing in comparison of this. And it is the more to be
lamented, because there is reason to suppose as my dear Charlotte informs me, that this
licentiousness of behaviour in your daughter has proceeded from a faulty degree of indulgence;
though, at the same time, for the consolation of yourself and Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined to think
that her own disposition must be naturally bad, or she could not be guilty of such an enormity, at
so early an age. Howsoever that may be, you are grievously to be pitied; in which opinion I am
not only joined by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by Lady Catherine and her daughter, to whom I
have related the affair. They agree with me in apprehending that this false step in one daughter
will be injurious to the fortunes of all the others; for who, as Lady Catherine herself
condescendingly says, will connect themselves with such a family? And this consideration leads
me moreover to reflect, with augmented satisfaction, on a certain event of last November; for
had it been otherwise, I must have been involved in all your sorrow and disgrace. Let me then
advise you, dear sir, to console yourself as much as possible, to throw off your unworthy child
from your affection for ever, and leave her to reap the fruits of her own heinous offense.
"I am, dear sir, etc., etc."
Mr. Gardiner did not write again till he had received an answer from Colonel Forster; and then
he had nothing of a pleasant nature to send. It was not known that Wickham had a single
relationship with whom he kept up any connection, and it was certain that he had no near one
living. His former acquaintances had been numerous; but since he had been in the militia, it did
not appear that he was on terms of particular friendship with any of them. There was no one,
therefore, who could be pointed out as likely to give any news of him. And in the wretched state
of his own finances, there was a very powerful motive for secrecy, in addition to his fear of
discovery by Lydia's relations, for it had just transpired that he had left gaming debts behind him
to a very considerable amount. Colonel Forster believed that more than a thousand pounds would
be necessary to clear his expenses at Brighton. He owed a good deal in town, but his debts of
honour were still more formidable. Mr. Gardiner did not attempt to conceal these particulars
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from the Longbourn family. Jane heard them with horror. "A gamester!" she cried. "This is
wholly unexpected. I had not an idea of it."
Mr. Gardiner added in his letter, that they might expect to see their father at home on the
following day, which was Saturday. Rendered spiritless by the ill-success of all their endeavours,
he had yielded to his brother-in-law's entreaty that he would return to his family, and leave it to
him to do whatever occasion might suggest to be advisable for continuing their pursuit. When
Mrs. Bennet was told of this, she did not express so much satisfaction as her children expected,
considering what her anxiety for his life had been before.
"What, is he coming home, and without poor Lydia?" she cried. "Sure he will not leave London
before he has found them. Who is to fight Wickham, and make him marry her, if he comes
away?"
As Mrs. Gardiner began to wish to be at home, it was settled that she and the children should go
to London, at the same time that Mr. Bennet came from it. The coach, therefore, took them the
first stage of their journey, and brought its master back to Longbourn.
Mrs. Gardiner went away in all the perplexity about Elizabeth and her Derbyshire friend that had
attended her from that part of the world. His name had never been voluntarily mentioned before
them by her niece; and the kind of half-expectation which Mrs. Gardiner had formed, of their
being followed by a letter from him, had ended in nothing. Elizabeth had received none since her
return that could come from Pemberley.
The present unhappy state of the family rendered any other excuse for the lowness of her spirits
unnecessary; nothing, therefore, could be fairly conjectured from THAT, though Elizabeth, who
was by this time tolerably well acquainted with her own feelings, was perfectly aware that, had
she known nothing of Darcy, she could have borne the dread of Lydia's infamy somewhat better.
It would have spared her, she thought, one sleepless night out of two.
When Mr. Bennet arrived, he had all the appearance of his usual philosophic composure. He said
as little as he had ever been in the habit of saying; made no mention of the business that had
taken him away, and it was some time before his daughters had courage to speak of it.
It was not till the afternoon, when he had joined them at tea, that Elizabeth ventured to introduce
the subject; and then, on her briefly expressing her sorrow for what he must have endured, he
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replied, "Say nothing of that. Who should suffer but myself? It has been my own doing, and I
ought to feel it."
"You must not be too severe upon yourself," replied Elizabeth.
"You may well warn me against such an evil. Human nature is so prone to fall into it! No, Lizzy,
let me once in my life feel how much I have been to blame. I am not afraid of being overpowered
by the impression. It will pass away soon enough."
"Do you suppose them to be in London?"
"Yes; where else can they be so well concealed?"
"And Lydia used to want to go to London," added Kitty.
"She is happy then," said her father drily; "and her residence there will probably be of some
duration."
Then after a short silence he continued:
"Lizzy, I bear you no ill-will for being justified in your advice to me last May, which,
considering the event, shows some greatness of mind."
They were interrupted by Miss Bennet, who came to fetch her mother's tea.
"This is a parade," he cried, "which does one good; it gives such an elegance to misfortune!
Another day I will do the same; I will sit in my library, in my nightcap and powdering gown, and