“In what an amiable light does this place him!”thought Elizabeth.
“This fine account of him,”whispered her aunt as they walked,“is not quite consistent with his behaviour to our poor friend.”
“Perhaps we might be deceived.”
“That is not very likelyour authority was too good.”
On reaching the spacious lobby above they were shown into a very pretty sitting-room,lately fitted up with greater elegance and lightness than the apartments belowand were informed that it was but just done to give pleasure to Miss Darcy,who had taken a liking to the room when last at Pemberley.
“He is certainly a good brother,”said Elizabeth,as she walked towards one of the windows.
Mrs. Reynolds anticipated Miss Darcy's delight, when she should enter the room.“And this is always the way with him,”she added.“Whatever can give his sister any pleasure is sure to be done in a moment.There is nothing he would not do for her.”
The picture-gallery,and two or three of the principal bedrooms, were all that remained to be shown. In the former were many good paintingsbut Elizabeth knew nothing of the artand 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.
In the gallery there were many family portraits,but they could have little to fix the attention of a stranger.Elizabeth walked in quest of the only face whose features would be known to her.At last it arrested her—and she beheld a striking resemblance to Mr. Darcy,with such a smile over the face as she remembered to have sometimes seen when he looked at her.She stood several minutes before the picture,in earnest contemplation,and returned to it again before they quitted the gallery. Mrs. Reynolds informed them that it had been taken in his father's lifetime.
There was certainly at this moment,in Elizabeth's mind,a more gentle sensation towards the original than she had ever fe 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 beforeshe remembered its warmth, and softened its impropriety of expression.
When all of the house that was open to general inspection had been seen, they returned downstairs, and, taking leave of the housekeeper,were consigned over to the gardener,who met them at the hall-door.
As they walked across the lawn towards the river, Elizabeth turned back to look againher uncle and aunt stopped also,and while the former was conjecturing as to the date of the building, the owner of it himself suddenly came forward from the road, which led behind it to the stables.
They were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt was his appearance, that it was impossible to avoid his sight. Their eyes instantly met,and the cheeks of both were overspread with the deepest blush.He absolutely started,and for a moment seemed immovable from surprisebut shortly recovering himself, advanced towards the party, and spoke to Elizabeth, if not in terms of perfect composure,at least of perfect civility.