curiosity so strongly marked as in Miss Bingley’s, in spite of the

smiles which overspread her face whenever she spoke to one of its

objects; for jealousy had not yet made her desperate, and her attentions

to Mr. Darcy were by no means over. Miss Darcy, on her brother’s

entrance, exerted herself much more to talk; and Elizabeth saw that he

was anxious for his sister and herself to get acquainted, and forwarded,

as much as possible, every attempt at conversation on either side. Miss

Bingley saw all this likewise; and, in the imprudence of anger, took the

first opportunity of saying, with sneering civility,—
“Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the ——shire militia removed from Meryton?

They must be a great loss to your family.”
In Darcy’s presence she dared not mention Wickham’s name: but Elizabeth

instantly comprehended that he was uppermost in her thoughts; and the

various recollections connected with him gave her a moment’s distress;

but, exerting herself vigorously to repel the ill-natured attack, she

presently answered the question in a tolerably disengaged tone. While

she spoke, an involuntary glance showed her Darcy with a heightened

complexion, earnestly looking at her, and his sister overcome with

confusion, and unable to lift up her eyes.{331} Had Miss Bingley known what

pain she was then giving her beloved friend, she undoubtedly would have

refrained from the hint; but she had merely intended to discompose

Elizabeth, by bringing forward the idea of a man to whom she believed

her partial, to make her betray a sensibility which might injure her in

Darcy’s opinion, and, perhaps, to remind the latter of all the follies

and absurdities by which some part of her family were connected with

that corps. Not a syllable had ever reached her of Miss Darcy’s

meditated elopement. To no creature had it been revealed, where secrecy

was possible, except to Elizabeth; and from all Bingley’s connections