“And what has been done,what has been attempted,to recover her?”
Darcy shook his head in silent acquiescence.
“My father has gone to London,and Jane has written to beg my uncle's immediate assistance;and we shall be off,I hope,in half-an-hour.But nothing can be done―I know very well that nothing can be done.How is such a man to be worked on?How are they even to be discovered?I have not the smallest hope.It is every way horrible!”
“I am grieved indeed,”cried Darcy;“grieved―shocked.But is it certain―absolutely certain?”
“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.”
“When I consider,”she added in a yet more agitated voice,“that I might have prevented it!I,who knew what he was.Had I but explained some part of it only―some part of what I learnt,to my own family!Had his character been known,this could not have happened.But it is all―all too late now.”
“When my eyes were opened to his real character―Oh!had I known what I ought,what I dared to do!But I knew not―I was afraid of doing too much.Wretched,wretched mistake!”
He readily assured her of his secrecy;again expressed his sorrow for her distress, wished it a happier conclusion than there was at present reason to hope, and leaving his compliments for her relations,with only one serious,parting look,went away.