“How long did you say he was at Rosings?”
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:
“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.
“Oh, no!”said Elizabeth.“In essentials, I believe, he is very much what he ever was.”
“His manners are very different from his cousin's.”
“Yes, very different. But I think Mr. Darcy improves upon acquaintance.”
When the party broke up, Lydia returned with Mrs. Forster to Meryton, from whence they were to set out early the next morning.The separation between her and her family was rather noisy than pathetic.Kitty was the only one who shed tears;but she did weep from vexation and envy.Mrs.Bennet was diffuse in her good wishes for the felicity of her daughter,and impressive in her injunctions that she should not miss the opportunity of enjoying herself as much as possible―advice which there was every reason to believe would be attended to; and in the clamorous happiness of Lydia herself in bidding farewell, the more gentle adieus of her sisters were uttered without being heard.