She saw herself the object of attention to tens and to scores of them at

present unknown. She saw all the glories of the camp: its{290} tents

stretched forth in beauteous uniformity of lines, crowded with the young

and the gay, and dazzling with scarlet; and, to complete the view, she

saw herself seated beneath a tent, tenderly flirting with at least six

officers at once.

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“Tenderly flirting”

[Copyright 1894 by George Allen.]

Had she known that her sister sought to tear her from such prospects and

such realities as these, what would have been her sensations? They could

have been understood only by her mother, who might have felt nearly the

same. Lydia’s going to Brighton was all that consoled her for the

melancholy conviction of her husband’s never intending to go there

himself.
But they were entirely ignorant of what had passed;{291} and their raptures

continued, with little intermission, to the very day of Lydia’s leaving

home.
Elizabeth was now to see Mr. Wickham for the last time. Having been

frequently in company with him since her return, agitation was pretty

well over; the agitations of former partiality entirely so. She had even

learnt to detect, in the very gentleness which had first delighted her,

an affectation and a sameness to disgust and weary. In his present

behaviour to herself, moreover, she had a fresh source of displeasure;

for the inclination he soon testified of renewing those attentions which

had marked the early part of their acquaintance could only serve, after

what had since passed, to provoke her. She lost all concern for him in

finding herself thus selected as the object of such idle and frivolous

gallantry; and while she steadily repressed it, could not but feel the

reproof contained in his believing, that however long, and for whatever

cause, his attentions had been withdrawn, her vanity would be gratified,

and her preference secured, at any time, by their renewal.