Page 16 of Hard Home

"To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ancles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! what could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country town indifference to decorum."

"It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing," said Bingley.

"I am afraid, Mr. Darcy," observed Miss Bingley in a half whisper, "that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes."

"Not at all," he replied; "they were brightened by the exercise."

A short pause followed this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again.

"And there is another thing in it that nobody has said, and I shall say it, for it is not unkindness but simple fact. No woman of any line at all would have crossed Barrett's fields on foot this month. She would not have needed telling. She would have got to the second stile and her own blood would have turned her round." Mrs. Hurst spread her hands. "That is what we mean, Charles, when we sayno old family. It is not the mud."

"And what," said Mr. Darcy, "is in Barrett's fields?"

Mrs. Hurst was somewhat at a loss. "I am sure I do not know. Nothing. I speak generally."

"You spoke very particularly. You named the field." He was turning the stem of his glass and did not look up. "I walked it at eleven this morning. I should be glad to know what it was that you expected her blood to have told her, since mine toldme nothing whatever, and I have been given to understand that mine is tolerably old."

Mrs. Hurst laughed, and said something about his being too droll, and the subject was got away from with the skill of a woman who has been getting away from subjects for twenty years.

Miss Bingley returned to the charge with the Cheapside uncle, and was more successful, everyone being glad of it.

"I have an excessive regard for Jane Bennet, she is really a very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it."

"I think I have heard you say, that their uncle is an attorney in Meryton."

"Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside."

"That is capital," added her sister, and they both laughed heartily.

"If they had uncles enough to fillallCheapside," cried Bingley, "it would not make them one jot less agreeable."

"But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world," replied Darcy.

To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisters gave it their hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of their dear friend's vulgar relations.

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With a renewal of tenderness, however, they returned to her room on leaving the dining parlor, and sat with her till summoned to coffee.

Elizabeth let them in because there was no possible way to keep them out, and stood by the window with her hands behind her back and counted the minutes, and when they had gone at last she shut the door and came and knelt by the bed.

Jane's hands were cold. That was the thing nobody else would have thought to notice, in a room with a fire in it and a fever in the bed: her hands were cold as stones out of a stream, and had been cold since morning, and grew colder when there was anybody in the room and warmed a little when there was not.

"You must not let them sit with me," said Jane, without opening her eyes.

"I know it."

"I do not mind it. It is only that it goes on rather, and I cannot—"

"I know. Be quiet."

"Miss Bingley is very unhappy," said Jane, in a small clear voice, "under all of it. Did you know? She is the unhappiest person in this house by a long way, and she has been unhappy so long that it has got into the bones of her, and she came and sat by me for one hour and I am sotired, Lizzy—"

"Yes."

"—and she is kind to me. That is what I cannot make anybody understand. She is quite kind to me and she does not know she is doing anything at all."

Elizabeth put her sister's hands between her own and held them there.