conduct, who will believe me? The general prejudice against Mr. Darcy is

so violent, that it would be the death of half the good people in

Meryton, to attempt to place him in an amiable light. I am not equal to

it. Wickham will soon be gone; and, therefore, it will not signify to

anybody here what he really is. Some time hence it will be all found

out, and then we may laugh at their stupidity in not knowing it before.

At present I will say nothing about it.”
“You are quite right. To have his errors made public might ruin him for

ever. He is now, perhaps, sorry for what he has done, and anxious to

re-establish a character. We must not make him desperate.”
The tumult of Elizabeth’s mind was allayed by this{282} conversation. She

had got rid of two of the secrets which had weighed on her for a

fortnight, and was certain of a willing listener in Jane, whenever she

might wish to talk again of either. But there was still something

lurking behind, of which prudence forbade the disclosure. She dared not

relate the other half of Mr. Darcy’s letter, nor explain to her sister

how sincerely she had been valued by his friend. Here was knowledge in

which no one could partake; and she was sensible that nothing less than

a perfect understanding between the parties could justify her in

throwing off this last encumbrance of mystery. “And then,” said she, “if

that very improbable event should ever take place, I shall merely be

able to tell what Bingley may tell in a much more agreeable manner

himself. The liberty of communication cannot be mine till it has lost

all its value!”
She was now, on being settled at home, at leisure to observe the real

state of her sister’s spirits. Jane was not happy. She still cherished a

very tender affection for Bingley. Having never even fancied herself in

love before, her regard had all the warmth of first attachment, and from

her age and disposition, greater steadiness than first attachments often