assure you, he informed me himself.”
“I beg your pardon,” replied Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer.

“Excuse my interference; it was kindly meant.”
“Insolent girl!” said Elizabeth to herself. “You are much mistaken if

you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see

nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and the malice of Mr.

Darcy.” She then sought her eldest sister, who had undertaken to make

inquiries on the same subject of Bingley. Jane met her with a smile of

such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently

marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening.

Elizabeth instantly read her feelings; and, at that moment, solicitude

for Wickham, resentment against his enemies, and everything else, gave

way before the hope of Jane’s being in the fairest way for happiness.
“I want to know,” said she, with a countenance no less smiling than her

sister’s, “what you have learnt{122} about Mr. Wickham. But perhaps you have

been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person, in which case

you may be sure of my pardon.”
“No,” replied Jane, “I have not forgotten him; but I have nothing

satisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of his

history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have

principally offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good conduct,

the probity and honour, of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that

Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has

received; and I am sorry to say that by his account, as well as his

sister’s, Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am

afraid he has been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy’s

regard.”
“Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself.”
“No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton.”
“This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. I am

perfectly satisfied. But what does he say of the living?”