"Oh, yes, yes," exclaimed Mary, rising and walking restlessly about the room; "he is so good and generous that if he still cares, he would overlook all, he would pardon the errors and foolishness that have led to this misunderstanding—but the past, Mrs. Darcy, does he know and forgive that? I wish I could tell. Seeing Mr. Bertram brings it all back again—my brother, his sister—the divorce—what Lady Catherine heard, the world believes, you know—and just when one repents it all most, it comes back just like a spectre to haunt one."
Elizabeth replied very earnestly: "At such a time as this, it would be cruel to mislead you, and I only say what I sincerely believe, that Colonel Fitzwilliam knows everything to which you refer, and it makes not the smallest difference to him. It would not, you should be aware, to any man whose love was worthy of the name. That should not weigh with you for a moment. The only thing that signifies in the least is whether you can return that love: the only barrier between you is being unable to return it. I would not urge you against your will, or take advantage of a moment of strong emotion; you alone know whether it would make you happier to send a word of hope to him."
"Happier? Ah, I do not know," said Mary sorrowfully. "I do not seem able to think of happiness. And yet, I should be glad for him to know, since you think he still cares to know, and it is all I can now do for him. You need not be afraid of my not trusting my feelings, Mrs. Darcy. This has shown me all too late what they really are, though my folly and obstinacy have blinded me all these months."
"We will not say too late, dear Miss Crawford," said Elizabeth, going up to where Miss Crawford was standing by the mantelshelf, leaning her head on her arm. "We do not know that it is too late, and I believe that it will be an immense comfort to you to take this one step. Explanations can come after. I am not afraid of Colonel Fitzwilliam being unable to clear away all doubts and fears when he is able to speak for himself again."
There was a moment's pause, and Elizabeth continued: "I must not stay now. Mr. Darcy is so impatient to be off, but I will be back to you. Will you tell me what I may say? so little will suffice; or would you rather write it?"
Mary shook her head, still keeping her face hidden, and said in a barely audible voice: "Ask Mr. Darcy, if he will be so kind—explain things to him how you like—but say I send Colonel Fitzwilliam my—my love; that I beg his forgiveness; and that I hope—he will soon—be able to come home—to me."
Elizabeth just caught the last words, waited to assure herself there was no more, and pressing Mary's hand, went quietly out of the room. Though much moved by their interview, the exigencies of the moment demanded that she should quickly recover her composure, and brace herself for the parting with her husband. There would be time—all too much time—for thought when the moment of action was over; there would be hours of suspense to be borne and another sufferer to console. As she came out upon the gallery, she heard persons talking and moving in the hall below, and distinguished her husband's voice saying: "I ought to be with him soon after one o'clock," words which revived her courage, and she descended to find Darcy, Georgiana and Mr. Bertram standing by the hearth, Darcy completely equipped for his journey, and the servants waiting by the front door.
Georgiana, who had been enduring keen anxiety during Elizabeth's absence, and had been exerting herself to keep the gentlemen occupied in eating and talking, so that Elizabeth might not be interrupted too soon by Darcy's haste to depart, gave her a nervous glance, which was tempered by relief when she saw her sister draw Darcy into the library for a few parting words. She could scarcely attend to Mr. Bertram's amiable chatter, or reply to his inquiries for Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, and the other friends he had met on his previous visit, for picturing in her mind what was going on in the library and trying to decide whether Elizabeth had been successful in her mission.
At last the door opened; they reappeared; Darcy was grave, but Georgiana thought his brow had somewhat lightened since he went in, and Elizabeth gave her a bright and reassuring look. There was no time for more, and the carriage was already waiting; the farewells were quickly spoken, and in another moment Darcy had passed out and was gone.