that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be

in company with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by a

thousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been

scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him anything and

everything, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the

memory of his father.{101}”
Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and listened with

all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented further inquiry.
Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the

neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that he

had yet seen, and speaking of the latter, especially, with gentle but

very intelligible gallantry.
“It was the prospect of constant society, and good society,” he added,

“which was my chief inducement to enter the ——shire. I know it to be a

most respectable, agreeable corps; and my friend Denny tempted me

further by his account of their present quarters, and the very great

attentions and excellent acquaintance Meryton had procured them.

Society, I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and

my spirits will not bear solitude. I must have employment and society.

A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have

now made it eligible. The church ought to have been my profession—I

was brought up for the church; and I should at this time have been in

possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we

were speaking of just now.”
“Indeed!”
“Yes—the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best

living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me.

I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply,

and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was given

elsewhere.”
“Good heavens!” cried Elizabeth; “but how could that be? How could his