Upon the wall hangs a portrait representing a young and beautiful woman, not unlike Mrs.Bennet; but the beauty of the face is flashing and passionate, not thoughtful and mild like that of Gabriel's mother.

But although every thing is very plain, it is perfectly cheerful.

There is nothing forlorn in the aspect of the room.

Roses in a glass upon the table, and the voice and manner of the mother and daughter, tell every thing.
Presently they go in to tea, and Mr.Bennet joins them.

His face is pale, and of gentle expression, and he stoops a little in his walk.