Had Lydia and her mother known the substance of her conference with her father,their indignation would hardly have found expression in their united volubility.In Lydia's imagination, a visit to Brighton comprised every possibility of earthly happiness. She saw, with the creative eye of fancy, the streets of that gay bathing-place covered with officers. She saw herself the object of attention,to tens and to scores of them at present unknown.She saw all the glories of the camp―its tents stretched forth in beauteous uniformity of lines,crowded with the young and the gay,and dazzling with scarlet;and,to complete the view, she saw herself seated beneath a tent, tenderly flirting with at least six officers at once.
Elizabeth was now to see Mr. Wickham for the last time. Having been frequently in company with him since her return, agitation was pretty well over;the agitations of formal partiality entirely so.She had even learnt to detect,in the very gentleness which had first delighted her, an affectation and a sameness to disgust and weary.In his present behaviour to herself,moreover, she had a fresh source of displeasure,for the inclination he soon testified of renewing those attentions which had marked the early part of their acquaintance could only serve,after what had since passed, to provoke her. She lost all concern for him in finding herself thus selected as the object of such idle and frivolous gallantry;and while she steadily repressed it,could not but feel the reproof contained in his believing,that however long,and for whatever cause, his attentions had been withdrawn, her vanity would be gratified, and her preference secured at any time by their renewal.