you with vain wishes, which may seem purposely to ask for your thanks.

This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister’s having the

pleasure of seeing you at Pemberley to-day.”
“Oh, yes! Be so kind as to apologize for us to Miss Darcy. Say that

urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as

long as it is possible. I know it cannot be long.”
He readily assured her of his secrecy, again expressed{342} his sorrow for

her distress, wished it a happier conclusion than there was at present

reason to hope, and, leaving his compliments for her relations, with

only one serious parting look, went away.
As he quitted the room, Elizabeth felt how improbable it was that they

should ever see each other again on such terms of cordiality as had

marked their several meetings in Derbyshire; and as she threw a

retrospective glance over the whole of their acquaintance, so full of

contradictions and varieties, sighed at the perverseness of those

feelings which would now have promoted its continuance, and would

formerly have rejoiced in its termination.
If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection, Elizabeth’s

change of sentiment will be neither improbable nor faulty. But if

otherwise, if the regard springing from such sources is unreasonable or

unnatural, in comparison of what is so often described as arising on a

first interview with its object, and even before two words have been

exchanged, nothing can be said in her defence, except that she had given

somewhat of a trial to the latter method, in her partiality for Wickham,

and that its ill success might, perhaps, authorize her to seek the other

less interesting mode of attachment. Be that as it may, she saw him go

with regret; and in this early example of what Lydia’s infamy must

produce, found additional anguish as she reflected on that wretched

business. Never since reading Jane’s second letter had she entertained a