what her anxiety for his life had been before.
“What! is he coming home, and without poor Lydia?” she cried. “Sure he

will not leave London before he has found them. Who is to fight Wickham,

and make him marry her, if he comes away?”
As Mrs. Gardiner began to wish to be at home, it was settled that she

and her children should go to London at the same time that Mr. Bennet

came from it. The coach, therefore, took them the first stage of their

journey, and brought its master back to Longbourn.
Mrs. Gardiner went away in all the perplexity about Elizabeth and her

Derbyshire friend, that had attended her from that part of the world.

His name had never been voluntarily mentioned before them by her niece;

and the kind of half-expectation which Mrs. Gardiner had formed, of

their being followed by a letter from him, had ended in nothing.

Elizabeth had received none since her return, that could come from

Pemberley.
The present unhappy state of the family rendered any{366} other excuse for

the lowness of her spirits unnecessary; nothing, therefore, could be

fairly conjectured from that,—though Elizabeth, who was by this time

tolerably well acquainted with her own feelings, was perfectly aware

that, had she known nothing of Darcy, she could have borne the dread of

Lydia’s infamy somewhat better. It would have spared her, she thought,

one sleepless night out of two.
When Mr. Bennet arrived, he had all the appearance of his usual

philosophic composure. He said as little as he had ever been in the

habit of saying; made no mention of the business that had taken him

away; and it was some time before his daughters had courage to speak of

it.
It was not till the afternoon, when he joined them at tea, that

Elizabeth ventured to introduce the subject; and then, on her briefly

expressing her sorrow for what he must have endured, he replied, “Say

nothing of that. Who should suffer but myself? It has been my own doing,

and I ought to feel it.”