“I am grieved indeed,”cried Darcy;“grieved―shocked.But is it certain―absolutely certain?”
Darcy made no answer.He seemed scarcely to hear her,and was walking up and down the room in earnest meditation,his brow contracted,his air gloomy.Elizabeth soon observed,and instantly understood it.Her power was sinking;everything must sink under such a proof of family weakness,such an assurance of the deepest disgrace.She could neither wonder nor condemn,but the belief of his self-conquest brought nothing consolatory to her bosom, afforded no palliation of her distress. It was, on the contrary, exactly calculated to make her understand her own wishes; and never had she so honestly felt that she could have loved him,as now,when all love must be vain.
“When my eyes were opened to his real character―Oh!had I known what I ought,what I dared to do!But I knew not―I was afraid of doing too much.Wretched,wretched mistake!”