trifling colds. She will be taken good care of. As long as she stays

there, it is all very well. I would go and see her if I could have the

carriage.”
Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, determined to go to her, though the

carriage was not to be had: and as she was no horsewoman, walking was

her only alternative. She declared her resolution.
“How can you be so silly,” cried her mother, “as to think of such a

thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when you get

there.”
“I shall be very fit to see Jane—which is all I want.”
“Is this a hint to me, Lizzy,” said her father, “to send for the

horses?”
“No, indeed. I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is nothing,

when one has a motive; only three miles. I shall be back by dinner.”
“I admire the activity of your benevolence,” observed Mary, “but every

impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion,

exertion should always be in proportion to what is required.”
“We will go as far as Meryton with you,” said Catherine and Lydia.

Elizabeth accepted their company, and the three young ladies set off

together.
“If we make haste,” said Lydia, as they walked along, “perhaps we may

see something of Captain Carter, before he goes.”
In Meryton they parted: the two youngest repaired to the lodgings of one

of the officers’ wives, and Elizabeth continued her walk alone, crossing

field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing

over puddles, with impatient activity, and finding herself at last

within view of the house, with weary ancles, dirty stockings, and a face

glowing with the warmth of exercise.{43}
She was shown into the breakfast parlour, where all but Jane were

assembled, and where her appearance created a great deal of surprise.

That she should have walked three miles so early in the day in such

dirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to Mrs. Hurst and

Miss Bingley; and Elizabeth was convinced that they held her in contempt