You do not blame me, however, for refusing him?”
“Blame you! Oh, no.”
“But you blame me for having spoken so warmly of Wickham?”
“No—I do not know that you were wrong in saying what you did.”
“But you will know it, when I have told you what happened the very

next day.”
She then spoke of the letter, repeating the whole of its contents as far

as they concerned George Wickham. What a stroke was this for poor Jane,

who would willingly have gone through the world without believing that

so much wickedness existed in the whole race of mankind as was here

collected in one individual! Nor was Darcy’s vindication, though

grateful to her feelings, capable of consoling her for such discovery.

Most earnestly did she labour to prove the probability of error, and

seek to clear one, without involving the other.
“This will not do,” said Elizabeth; “you never will be able to make both

of them good for anything. Take your choice, but you must be satisfied

with only one. There is but such a quantity of merit between them; just

enough to make one good sort of man; and of late it has been shifting

about pretty much. For my part, I am inclined to believe it all Mr.

Darcy’s, but you shall do as you choose.”
It was some time, however, before a smile could be extorted from Jane.
“I do not know when I have been more shocked,” said she. “Wickham so

very bad! It is almost past belief.{280} And poor Mr. Darcy! dear Lizzy,

only consider what he must have suffered. Such a disappointment! and

with the knowledge of your ill opinion too! and having to relate such a

thing of his sister! It is really too distressing, I am sure you must

feel it so.”
“Oh no, my regret and compassion are all done away by seeing you so full

of both. I know you will do him such ample justice, that I am growing

every moment more unconcerned and indifferent. Your profusion makes me

saving; and if you lament over him much longer, my heart will be as

light as a feather.”