But self, though it would intrude, could not engross her. Lydia―the humiliation,the misery she was bringing on them all, soon swallowed up every private care;and covering her face with her handkerchief,Elizabeth was soon lost to everything else;and, after a pause of several minutes,was only recalled to a sense of her situation by the voice of her companion,who,in a manner which, though it spoke compassion,spoke likewise restraint,said,
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.
“I am grieved indeed,”cried Darcy;“grieved―shocked.But is it certain―absolutely certain?”
Darcy shook his head in silent acquiescence.
“Oh, yes!They left Brighton together on Sunday night, and were traced almost to London,but not beyond;they are certainly not gone to Scotland.”