her is a proof, I will believe, that he is come to a right way of

thinking. Their mutual affection will steady them; and I flatter myself

they will settle so quietly, and live in so rational a manner, as may in

time make their past imprudence forgotten.”
“Their conduct has been such,” replied Elizabeth, “as neither you, nor

I, nor anybody, can ever forget. It is useless to talk of it.”
It now occurred to the girls that their mother was in all likelihood

perfectly ignorant of what had happened. They went to the library,

therefore, and asked their father whether he would not wish them to make

it known to her. He was writing, and, without raising his head, coolly

replied,—
“Just as you please.”
“May we take my uncle’s letter to read to her?”
“Take whatever you like, and get away.”
Elizabeth took the letter from his writing-table, and they went upstairs

together. Mary and Kitty were both with Mrs. Bennet: one communication

would, therefore, do for all. After a slight preparation for good news,

the letter was read aloud. Mrs. Bennet could hardly contain herself. As

soon as Jane had read Mr. Gardiner’s hope of Lydia’s being soon married,

her joy burst forth, and every following sentence added to its

exuberance. She{375} was now in an irritation as violent from delight as she

had ever been fidgety from alarm and vexation. To know that her daughter

would be married was enough. She was disturbed by no fear for her

felicity, nor humbled by any remembrance of her misconduct.
“My dear, dear Lydia!” she cried: “this is delightful indeed! She will

be married! I shall see her again! She will be married at sixteen! My

good, kind brother! I knew how it would be—I knew he would manage

everything. How I long to see her! and to see dear Wickham too! But the

clothes, the wedding clothes! I will write to my sister Gardiner about

them directly. Lizzy, my dear, run down to your father, and ask him how