Elizabeth could not repress a smile at this, but she answered only by a slight inclination of the head.She saw that he wanted to engage her on the old subject of his grievances,and she was in no humour to indulge him.The rest of the evening passed with the appearance, on his side, of usual cheerfulness, but with no further attempt to distinguish Elizabeth;and they parted at last with mutual civility,and possibly a mutual desire of never meeting again.
While she spoke, Wickham looked as if scarcely knowing whether to rejoice over her words,or to distrust their meaning. There was a something in her countenance which made him listen with an apprehensive and anxious attention,while she added:
“When I said that he improved on acquaintance,I did not mean that his mind or his manners were in a state of improvement, but that, from knowing him better, his disposition was better understood.”
“And you saw him frequently?”
“Nearly three weeks.”
“His manners are very different from his cousin's.”
Wickham's alarm now appeared in a heightened complexion and agitated look;for a few minutes he was silent,till,shaking off his embarrassment,he turned to her again,and said in the gentlest of accents:
“Yes,almost every day.”
“How long did you say he was at Rosings?”
“Oh, no!”said Elizabeth.“In essentials, I believe, he is very much what he ever was.”