myself, was to see whether your sister was still partial to Bingley, and

if she were, to make the confession to him which I have since made.”
“Shall you ever have courage to announce to Lady Catherine what is to

befall her?”
“I am more likely to want time than courage, Elizabeth. But it ought to

be done; and if you will give me a sheet of paper it shall be done

directly.”
“And if I had not a letter to write myself, I might sit by you, and

admire the evenness of your writing, as another young lady once did. But

I have an aunt, too, who must not be longer neglected.”
From an unwillingness to confess how much her intimacy with Mr. Darcy

had been overrated, Elizabeth had never yet answered Mrs. Gardiner’s

long letter; but now, having that to communicate which she knew would

be most welcome, she was almost ashamed to find that her uncle and aunt

had already lost three days of happiness, and immediately wrote as

follows:—
“I would have thanked you before, my dear aunt, as I ought to have done,

for your long, kind, satisfactory detail of particulars; but, to say the

truth, I was too cross to write. You supposed more than really existed.

But now suppose as much as you choose; give a loose to your fancy,

indulge your imagination in every possible flight which the subject will

afford, and unless you believe me actually married, you cannot greatly

err. You must write again very soon, and praise him a great deal more

than you did in your last. I thank you again and again, for not going to

the Lakes. How could I be so{470} silly as to wish it! Your idea of the

ponies is delightful. We will go round the park every day. I am the

happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so

before, but no one with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she

only smiles, I laugh. Mr. Darcy sends you all the love in the world that

can be spared from me. You are all to come to Pemberley at Christmas.

Yours,” etc.