“When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley,”said her mother,“I beg you will come here,and shoot as many as you please on Mr.Bennet's manor.I am sure he will be vastly happy to oblige you,and will save all the best of the coveys for you.”
Elizabeth's misery increased,at such unnecessary,such officious attention!Were the same fair prospect to arise at present as had flattered them a year ago,every thing,she was persuaded,would be hastening to the same vexatious conclusion.At that instant, she felt that years of happiness could not make Jane or herself amends for moments of such painful confusion.
Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy, was in such misery of shame,that she could hardly keep her seat.It drew from her,however,the exertion of speaking,which nothing else had so effectually done before;and she asked Bingley whether he meant to make any stay in the country at present.A few weeks,he believed.
Yet the misery, for which years of happiness were to offer no compensation, received soon afterwards material relief, from observing how much the beauty of her sister re-kindled the admiration of her former lover.When first he came in, he had spoken to her but little; but every five minutes seemed to be giving her more of his attention. He found her as handsome as she had been last year;as good natured,and as unaffected,though not quite so chatty.Jane was anxious that no difference should be perceived in her at all,and was really persuaded that she talked as much as ever.But her mind was so busily engaged,that she did not always know when she was silent.