Elizabeth almost stared at her.“Can this be Mr. Darcy?”thought she.

Elizabeth listened,wondered,doubted,and was impatient for more. Mrs. Reynolds could interest her on no other point. She related the subjects of the pictures,the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the furniture, in vain. Mr. Gardiner, highly amused by the kind of family prejudice to which he attributed her excessive commendation of her master,soon led again to the subject; and she dwelt with energy on his many merits as they proceeded together up the great staircase.

“He is certainly a good brother,”said Elizabeth,as she walked towards one of the windows.

The picture-gallery,and two or three of the principal bedrooms, were all that remained to be shown. In the former were many good paintings;but Elizabeth knew nothing of the art;and 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 what an amiable light does this place him!”thought Elizabeth.

“He is the best landlord,and the best master,”said she,“that ever lived; not like the wild young men nowadays, who think of nothing but themselves.There is not one of his tenants or servants but what will give him a good name. Some people call him proud;but I am sure I never saw anything of it.To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away like other young men.”