Wickham's alarm now appeared in a heightened complexion and agitated look;for a few minutes he was silent,till,shaking off his embarrassment,he turned to her again,and said in the gentlest of accents:
“Indeed!”cried Mr.Wickham with a look which did not escape her.“And pray,may I ask?―”But checking himself,he added,in a gayer tone,“Is it in address that he improves?Has he deigned to add aught of civility to his ordinary style?―for I dare not hope,”he continued in a lower and more serious tone,“that he is improved in essentials.”
“Yes,almost every day.”
Elizabeth could not repress a smile at this, but she answered only by a slight inclination of the head.She saw that he wanted to engage her on the old subject of his grievances,and she was in no humour to indulge him.The rest of the evening passed with the appearance, on his side, of usual cheerfulness, but with no further attempt to distinguish Elizabeth;and they parted at last with mutual civility,and possibly a mutual desire of never meeting again.
He looked surprised,displeased,alarmed;but with a moment's recollection and a returning smile,replied,that he had formerly seen him often;and,after observing that he was a very gentlemanlike man,asked her how she had liked him.Her answer was warmly in his favour.With an air of indifference,he soon afterwards added: