glancing her eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what

she dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother, she was

convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression

of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and

steady gravity.
At length, however, Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and Lady Lucas, who

had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw no

likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and chicken.

Elizabeth now began to revive. But not long was the interval of

tranquillity; for when supper was over, singing was talked of, and she

had the mortification of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty,

preparing to oblige the company. By many significant looks and silent

entreaties did she endeavour to prevent such a proof of

complaisance,—but in vain; Mary would not understand them; such an

opportunity of exhibiting was delightful to her, and she began her song.

Elizabeth’s eyes were fixed on her, with most painful sensations; and

she watched her progress through the several stanzas with an impatience

which was very ill rewarded at their close; for Mary, on receiving

amongst the thanks of the table the hint of a hope that she might be

prevailed on to favour them again, after the pause of half a minute

began another. Mary’s powers were by no means fitted for such a display;

her voice was weak, and her manner affected. Elizabeth was in agonies.

She looked at Jane to see how she bore it; but Jane was very composedly{128}

talking to Bingley. She looked at his two sisters, and saw them making

signs of derision at each other, and at Darcy, who continued, however,

impenetrably grave. She looked at her father to entreat his

interference, lest Mary should be singing all night. He took the hint,

and, when Mary had finished her second song, said aloud,—
“That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough.