believed her to return his affection with sincere, if not with equal,

regard. But Bingley has great natural modesty, with a stronger

dependence on my judgment than on his own. To convince him, therefore,

that he had deceived himself was no very difficult point. To persuade

him against returning into Hertfordshire, when that conviction had been

given, was scarcely the work of a moment. I cannot blame myself for

having done thus much. There is but one part of my conduct, in the whole

affair, on which I do not reflect with satisfaction; it is that I

condescended to adopt the measures of art so far as to conceal from him

your sister’s being in town. I knew it myself, as it was known to Miss

Bingley; but her brother is even yet ignorant of it. That they might

have met without ill consequence is, perhaps, probable; but his regard

did not appear to me enough extinguished for him to see her without some

danger. Perhaps this concealment, this disguise, was beneath me. It is

done, however, and it was done for the best. On this subject I have

nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your

sister’s feelings, it was unknowingly done; and though the motives which

governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not

yet learnt to condemn them.—With respect to that other, more weighty

accusation, of having injured Mr. Wickham, I can only refute it by

laying before you the whole of his connection with my family. Of what he

has particularly accused me I am ignorant; but of the truth of what I

shall relate I can summon more than one witness of undoubted veracity.{249}

Mr. Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, who had for many years

the management of all the Pemberley estates, and whose good conduct in

the discharge of his trust naturally inclined my father to be of service

to him; and on George Wickham, who was his godson, his kindness was