to Colonel F., who, instantly taking the alarm, set off from B.,

intending to trace their route. He did trace them easily to Clapham, but

no farther; for on entering that place, they removed into a

hackney-coach, and dismissed the chaise that brought them from Epsom.

All that is known after this is, that they were seen to continue the

London road. I know not what to think. After making every possible

inquiry on that side London, Colonel F. came on into Hertfordshire,

anxiously renewing them at all the turnpikes, and at the inns in Barnet

and Hatfield, but without any success,—no such people had been seen to

pass through. With the kindest concern he came on to Longbourn, and

broke his apprehensions to us in a manner most creditable to his heart.

I am sincerely grieved for him and Mrs. F.; but no one can throw any

blame on them. Our distress, my dear Lizzy, is very great. My father and

mother believe the worst, but I cannot think so ill of him. Many

circumstances might make it more eligible for them to be married

privately in town than to pursue their first plan; and even if he

could form such a design against a young woman of Lydi{337}a’s connections,

which is not likely, can I suppose her so lost to everything?

Impossible! I grieve to find, however, that Colonel F. is not disposed

to depend upon their marriage: he shook his head when I expressed my

hopes, and said he feared W. was not a man to be trusted. My poor mother

is really ill, and keeps her room. Could she exert herself, it would be

better, but this is not to be expected; and as to my father, I never in

my life saw him so affected. Poor Kitty has anger for having concealed

their attachment; but as it was a matter of confidence, one cannot

wonder. I am truly glad, dearest Lizzy, that you have been spared

something of these distressing scenes; but now, as the first shock is

over, shall I own that I long for your return? I am not so selfish,