The farewell between herself and Mr. Wickham was perfectly friendly; on

his side even more. His present pursuit could not make him forget that

Elizabeth had been the first to excite and to deserve his attention, the

first to listen and to pity, the first to be admired; and in his manner

of bidding her adieu, wishing her every enjoyment, reminding her of what

she was to expect in Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and trusting their

opinion of her—their opinion of everybody—would always coincide, there

was a solicitude, an interest, which she felt must ever attach her to

him with a most sincere regard; and she parted from him convinced, that,

whether married or single, he must always be her model of the amiable

and pleasing.{191}
Her fellow-travellers the next day were not of a kind to make her think

him less agreeable. Sir William Lucas, and his daughter Maria, a

good-humoured girl, but as empty-headed as himself, had nothing to say

that could be worth hearing, and were listened to with about as much

delight as the rattle of the chaise. Elizabeth loved absurdities, but

she had known Sir William’s too long. He could tell her nothing new of

the wonders of his presentation and knighthood; and his civilities were

worn out, like his information.
It was a journey of only twenty-four miles, and they began it so early

as to be in Gracechurch Street by noon. As they drove to Mr. Gardiner’s

door, Jane was at a drawing-room window watching their arrival: when

they entered the passage, she was there to welcome them, and Elizabeth,

looking earnestly in her face, was pleased to see it healthful and

lovely as ever. On the stairs were a troop of little boys and girls,

whose eagerness for their cousin’s appearance would not allow them to

wait in the drawing-room, and whose shyness, as they had not seen her

for a twelvemonth, prevented their coming lower. All was joy and

kindness. The day passed most pleasantly away; the morning in bustle and