MINERVA

en talk of having Longbourn when your father is dead. They look upon it quite as their own, I dare say, whenever that happens.” “It was a subject which they could not mention before me.” “No; it would have been strange if they had. But I make no doubt they often talk of it between themselves. Well, if they can be easy with an estate that is not lawfully their own, so much the better. _I_ should be ashamed of having one that was only entailed on me.” [Illustration: “When Colonel Miller’s regiment went away” [_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]] CHAPTER XLI. [Illustration] The first week of their return was soon gone. The second began. It was the last of the regiment’s stay in Meryton, and all the young ladies in the neighbourhood were drooping apace. The dejection was almost universal. The elder Miss Bennets alone were still able to eat, drink, and sleep, and pursue the usual course of their employments. Very frequently were they reproached for this insensibility by Kitty and Lydia, whose own misery was extreme, and who could not comprehend such hard-heartedness in any of the family. “Good Heaven! What is to become of us? What are we to do?” would they often exclaim in the bitterness of woe. “How can you be smiling so, Lizzy?” Their affectionate mother shared all their grief; she remembered what she had herself endured on a similar occasion five-and-twenty years ago. “I am sure,” said she, “I cried for two days together when Colonel Miller’s regiment went away. I thought I should have broke my heart.” “I am sure I shall break _mine_,” said Lydia. “If one could but go to Brighton!” observed Mrs. Bennet. “Oh yes!--if one could but go to Brighton! But papa is so disagreeable.” “A little sea-bathing would set me up for ever.” “And my aunt Philips is sure it would do _me_ a great deal of good,” added Kitty. Such were the kind of lamentations resounding perpetually through Longbourn House. Elizabeth tried to be diverted by them; but all sense of pleasure was lost in shame. She felt anew the justice of Mr. Darcy’s objections; and never had she before been so much disposed to pardon his interference in the views of his friend. But the gloom of Lydia’s prospect was shortly cleared away; for she received an invitation from Mrs. Forster, the wife of the colonel of the regiment, to accompany her to Brighton. This invaluable friend was a very young woman, and very lately married. A resemblance in good-humour and good spirits had recommended her and Lydia to each other, and out of their _three_ months’ acquaintance they had been intimate _two_. The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, her adoration of Mrs. Forster, the delight of Mrs. Bennet, and the mortification of Kitty, are scarcely to be described. Wholly inattentive to her sister’s feelings, Lydia flew about the house in restless ecstasy, calling for everyone’s congratulations, and laughing and talking with more violence than ever; whilst the luckless Kitty continued in the parlour repining at her fate in terms as unreasonable as her accent was peevish. “I cannot see why Mrs. Forster should not ask _me_ as well as Lydia,” said she, “though I am _not_ her particular friend. I have just as much right to be asked as she has, and more too, for I am two years older.” In vain did Elizabeth attempt to make her reasonable, and Jane to make her resigned. As for Elizabeth herself, this invitation w