When she came to that part of the letter in which her family were mentioned in terms of such mortifying, yet merited reproach,her sense of shame was severe.The justice of the charge struck her too forcibly for denial,and the circumstances to which he particularly alluded as having passed at the Netherfield ball, and as confirming all his first disapprobation, could not have made a stronger impression on his mind than on hers.
She was immediately told that the two gentlemen from Rosings had each called during her absence;Mr.Darcy,only for a few minutes, to take leave―but that Colonel Fitzwilliam had been sitting with them at least an hour, hoping for her return, and almost resolving to walk after her till she could be found. Elizabeth could but just affect concern in missing him;she really rejoiced at it. Colonel Fitzwilliam was no longer an object; she could think only of her letter.
“How despicably I have acted!”she cried;“I,who have prided myself on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities!who have often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified my vanity in useless or blameable mistrust! How humiliating is this discovery!Yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love,I could not have been more wretchedly blind! But vanity,not love,has been my folly.Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance,I have courted prepossession and ignorance,and driven reason away,where either were concerned. Till this moment I never knew myself.”