"No, indeed," responded Georgiana, speaking with more animation. "Could you imagine a greater contrast? One can see at a glance how different their lives and professions have been, and how different their characters must be."
"I should be interested to hear," said Elinor in a low tone, and with a smile, "what you take to be the chief points of unlikeness in their characters, if you were not sitting too near to one of them to tell me."
Georgiana smiled and shook her head. "I could not very well, and I am sure you can read faces as well as anybody."
"I understand," said Elinor, "that the one we mentioned first is heir to a title and a large estate."
"I believe so," replied Georgiana, "but the other is fortunate in needing neither titles nor large estates to recommend him."
Elinor needed nothing further to convince her that Mrs. Jennings's suspicions, as far as Georgiana was concerned, were perfectly groundless; what the Bingleys might be desiring of her, or Mr. Bertram aiming at, was another matter. Certainly an onlooker could hardly help thinking of the probabilities of the match, with a handsome and wealthy young man on the one side, and a girl of Georgiana's beauty, accomplishments and high birth on the other.
[Chapter XVIII]
All went well; the dinner came to an end; the actors retired to dress, and the six members of the audience disposed themselves in armchairs in front of the curtain, and prepared to be mystified. The performance commenced after no longer delay than is usual on occasions of this kind, and opened with a duel scene, in which Bingley and Tom Bertram aimed pistols at one another in a most realistic manner, but failed to kill each other, owing to one weapon missing fire, and the ball of the other not penetrating a vital part. Two of the ladies rushed in and made demonstrations of relief at finding the wounded hero able to walk off the field. The next scene represented a card-room, with a party of players, and Bingley as the inveterate gambler staking higher and higher, until all was lost on turning up of a fatal four of hearts. Next was seen William Price as Richard I, in prison, aroused from despair at the sound of Blondel's harp, and the vision at the barred window of the minstrel, impersonated by Miss Bingley, cloaked and hooded and playing on a zither. The whole word gave a fine opportunity to Tom Bertram to exhibit his comedy powers in the part of a gentleman whose pocket is picked of a purse of money, his lamentations to his family, his efforts to recover it, and the final restoration of the purse, by then totally empty.
Much laughter and applause followed this conclusion, and though the word "misfortune" was presently discovered by the audience without any further help, they were delighted with the spirited and vigorous quality of the acting, which had conveyed so much to them in dumb show, not a word being spoken on the stage. Darcy's only adverse criticism was that so far there had not been enough for the ladies to do; but this defect was remedied in the next word, which consisted of only three scenes. In the first, Miss Bingley made a very tolerable Lady Macbeth, striving to cleanse her hands of blood while she walks in her sleep, and is observed by her gentlewoman and doctor; the second showed Joan of Arc, in the person of Kitty, led to the stake, while the others grouped themselves round and endeavoured to look as numerous as possible, in the parts of the judges, soldiers and executioners. Poor Kitty's slight figure, and insignificant presence, made it difficult for the character to be well realized in her; and Mr. Bertram's frown as he looked at her was not an assumed one, for he had originally cast Miss Darcy for the part, and had expostulated vehemently when she had insisted on yielding to the broadly-hinted-at wishes of her friend. Finally, Mrs. Bingley, as Cleopatra, looked exceedingly handsome in a robe as Egyptian as it could be made on short notice, and received the asp from a basket held by Georgiana, while Miss Bingley represented her other "handmaid."