“I say no more than the truth, and everybody will say that knows him,”replied the other.Elizabeth thought this was going pretty far;and she listened with increasing astonishment as the housekeeper added,“I have never known a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him ever since he was four years old.”
“Perhaps we might be deceived.”
The picture-gallery,and two or three of the principal bedrooms, were all that remained to be shown. In the former were many good paintings;but Elizabeth knew nothing of the art;and from such as had been already visible below,she had willingly turned to look at some drawings of Miss Darcy's,in crayons,whose subjects were usually more interesting,and also more intelligible.
There was certainly at this moment,in Elizabeth's mind,a more gentle sensation towards the original than she had ever felt at the height of their acquaintance.The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs.Reynolds was of no trifling nature.What praise is more valuable than the praise of an intelligent servant?As a brother,a landlord,a master,she considered how many people's happiness were in his guardianship!―how much of pleasure or pain was it in his power to bestow!―how much of good or evil must be done by him! Every idea that had been brought forward by the housekeeper was favourable to his character,and as she stood before the canvas on which he was represented, and fixed his eyes upon herself, she thought of his regard with a deeper sentiment of gratitude than it had ever raised before;she remembered its warmth, and softened its impropriety of expression.