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at Netherfield.
    Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen, with a fine complexion and good-humoured countenance. She had every bit of Lizzy’s deadly nature, though little of her sense, and had vanquished her first unmentionable at the remarkable age of seven-and-one-half years. She was very equal, therefore, to address Mr. Bingley on the subject of the ball, and abruptly reminded him of his promise; adding, that it would be the most shameful thing in the world if he did not keep it. His answer to this sudden attack was delightful to their mother’s ear.
    “I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement; and when your sister is recovered, you shall, if you please, name the very day of the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing when she is ill.”
    Lydia declared herself satisfied. “Oh! Yes—it would be much better to wait till Jane was well, and by that time most likely Captain Carter would be at Meryton again. And when you have given your ball,” she added, “I shall insist on their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel Forster it will be quite a shame if he does not.”
    Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Elizabeth returned instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her relations’ behaviour to the remarks of the two ladies and Mr. Darcy; the latter of whom, however, could not be prevailed on to join in their censure of her , in spite of all Miss Bingley’s witticisms on fine eyes .

CHAPTER 10
     
    THE DAY PASSED much as the day before had done. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley had spent some hours of the morning with the invalid, who continued, though slowly, to mend; and in the evening Elizabeth joined their party in the drawing-room. The card table, however, did not appear. Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching the progress of his letter and repeatedly calling off his attention by messages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and Mrs. Hurst was observing their game.
    Elizabeth took up the oiling of her musket stock, and was sufficiently amused in attending to what passed between Darcy and his companion.
    “How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!”
    He made no answer.
    “You write uncommonly fast.”
    “And you prattle uncommonly much.”
    “How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of a year! Letters of business, too! How odious I should think them!”
    “And how odious indeed that I should so often suffer to write them in your company.”
    “Pray tell your sister that I long to see her.”
    “I have already told her so once, by your desire.”
    “How can you contrive to write so even?”
    He was silent.
    “Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp; and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful little design for a table.”
    “Miss Bingley, the groans of a hundred unmentionables would be more pleasing to my ears than one more word from your mouth. Were you not otherwise agreeable, I should be forced to remove your tongue with my saber.”
    “Oh! It is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do you always write such charming long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?”
    “They are generally long; but whether always charming it is not for me to determine.”
    “It is a rule with me that a person who can write a long letter with ease, cannot write ill.”
    “That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline,” cried her brother, “because he does not write with ease. He studies too much for words of four syllables. Do not you, Darcy?”
    Mr. Darcy continued to work on his letter in silence, though Elizabeth perceived him to be a great deal annoyed with his friends.
    When that business was over, Mr. Darcy applied to Miss Bingley and Elizabeth for an indulgence of some music. Miss Bingley moved with some alacrity to the pianoforte; and, after a polite request that Elizabeth would lead the way, she seated herself.
    Mrs. Hurst