her brother was particularly anxious to conceal it, from that very wish

which Elizabeth had long ago attributed to him, of their becoming

hereafter her own. He had certainly formed such a plan; and without

meaning that it should affect his endeavour to separate him from Miss

Bennet, it is probable that it might add something to his lively concern

for the welfare of his friend.
Elizabeth’s collected behaviour, however, soon quieted his emotion; and

as Miss Bingley, vexed and disappointed, dared not approach nearer to

Wickham, Georgiana also recovered in time, though not enough to be able

to speak any more. Her brother, whose eye she feared to meet, scarcely

recollected her interest in the affair; and the very circumstance which

had been designed to turn his thoughts from Elizabeth, seemed to have

fixed them on her more and more cheerfully.
Their visit did not continue long after the question and answer above

mentioned; and while Mr. Darcy was attending them to their carriage,

Miss Bingley was venting her feelings in criticisms on Elizabet{332}h’s

person, behaviour, and dress. But Georgiana would not join her. Her

brother’s recommendation was enough to insure her favour: his judgment

could not err; and he had spoken in such terms of Elizabeth, as to leave

Georgiana without the power of finding her otherwise than lovely and

amiable. When Darcy returned to the saloon, Miss Bingley could not help

repeating to him some part of what she had been saying to his sister.
“How very ill Eliza Bennet looks this morning, Mr. Darcy,” she cried: “I

never in my life saw anyone so much altered as she is since the winter.

She is grown so brown and coarse! Louisa and I were agreeing that we

should not have known her again.”
However little Mr. Darcy might have liked such an address, he contented

himself with coolly replying, that he perceived no other alteration than

her being rather tanned,—no miraculous consequence of travelling in the

summer.