“What is there of good to be expected?”said he, taking the letter from his pocket.“But perhaps you would like to read it.”

“Let me write for you,”said Jane,“if you dislike the trouble yourself.”

“I mean,that no man in his proper senses would marry Lydia on so slight a temptation as one hundred a year during my life,and fifty after I am gone.”

“Oh, papa, what news―what news? Have you heard from my uncle?”

“Complied with!I am only ashamed of his asking so little.”

“No,”said her father;“Wickham's a fool if he takes her with a farthing less than ten thousand pounds.I should be sorry to think so ill of him,in the very beginning of our relationship.”

“What do you mean,Hill?We have heard nothing from town.”

“And have you answered the letter?”cried Elizabeth.

“No;but it must be done soon.”

“Well,and what news does it bring―good or bad?”

“Wickham is not so undeserving,then,as we thought him,”said her sister.“My dear father,I congratulate you.”

“Then it is as I always hoped,”cried Jane;“they are married!”

“And they must marry!Yet he is such a man!”

“Money!My uncle!”cried Jane,“what do you mean,sir?”

Most earnestly did she then entreaty him to lose no more time before he wrote.