she turned up the lane which led her farther from the turnpike road. The

park paling was still the boundary on one side, and she soon passed one

of the gates into the ground.
After walking two or three times along that part of the lane, she was

tempted, by the pleasantness of the morning, to stop at the gates and

look into the park. The five weeks which she had now passed in Kent had

made a great difference in the country, and every day was adding to the

verdure of the early trees. She was{244} on the point of continuing her

walk, when she caught a glimpse of a gentleman within the sort of grove

which edged the park: he was moving that way; and fearful of its being

Mr. Darcy, she was directly retreating. But the person who advanced was

now near enough to see her, and stepping forward with eagerness,

pronounced her name. She had turned away; but on hearing herself called,

though in a voice which proved it to be Mr. Darcy, she moved again

towards the gate. He had by that time reached it also; and, holding out

a letter, which she instinctively took, said, with a look of haughty

composure, “I have been walking in the grove some time, in the hope of

meeting you. Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?” and

then, with a slight bow, turned again into the plantation, and was soon

out of sight.
With no expectation of pleasure, but with the strongest curiosity,

Elizabeth opened the letter, and to her still increasing wonder,

perceived an envelope containing two sheets of letter paper, written

quite through, in a very close hand. The envelope itself was likewise

full. Pursuing her way along the lane, she then began it. It was dated

from Rosings, at eight o’clock in the morning, and was as follows:—
“Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of

its containing any repetition of those sentiments, or renewal of those

offers, which were last night so disgusting to you. I write without any