She inquired after his sister,but could do no more.
She was in no humour for conversation with anyone but himself;and to him she had hardly courage to speak.
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.
Mrs. Bennet had been strongly inclined to ask them to stay and dine there that day;but,though she always kept a very good table,she did not think anything less than two courses could be good enough for a man on whom she had such anxious designs,or satisfy the appetite and pride of one who had ten thousand a year.
“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.”
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.