When Lydia went away she promised to write very often and very minutely to her mother and Kitty; but her letters were always long expected,and always very short.Those to her mother contained little else than that they were just returned from the library, where such and such officers had attended them, and where she had seen such beautiful ornaments as made her quite wild;that she had a new gown,or a new parasol,which she would have described more fully,but was obliged to leave off in a violent hurry,as Mrs.Forster called her,and they were going to the camp;and from her correspondence with her sister,there was still less to be learnt―for her letters to Kitty,though rather longer,were much too full of lines under the words to be made public.
Had Elizabeth's opinion been all drawn from her own family,she could not have formed a very pleasing picture of conjugal felicity or domestic comfort.Her father,captivated by youth and beauty, and that appearance of good humour which youth and beauty generally give,had married a woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind had very early in their marriage put an end to all real affection for her. Respect, esteem, and confidence had vanished for ever; and all his views of domestic happiness were