Wretched, wretched mistake!" Darcy made no answer.

He seemed scarcely to hear her, and was walking up and down the room in earnest meditation, his brow contracted, his air gloomy.

Elizabeth soon observed, and instantly understood it.

Her power was sinking; everything _must_ sink under such a proof of family weakness, such an assurance of the deepest disgrace.

She could neither wonder nor condemn, but the belief of his self-conquest brought nothing consolatory to her bosom, afforded no palliation of her distress.