But when this subject was succeeded by his account of Mr. Wickham―when she read with somewhat clearer attention a relation of events which,if true,must overthrow every cherished opinion of his worth,and which bore so alarming an affinity to his own history of himself―her feelings were yet more acutely painful and more difficult of definition.Astonishment,apprehension,and even horror, oppressed her. She wished to discredit it entirely, repeatedly exclaiming,“This must be false! This cannot be! This must be the grossest falsehood!”―and when she had gone through the whole letter, though scarcely knowing anything of the last page or two,put it hastily away,protesting that she would not regard it,that she would never look in it again.

The extravagance and general profligacy which he scrupled not to lay at Mr.Wickham's charge, exceedingly shocked her;the more so,as she could bring no proof of its injustice.She had never heard of him before his entrance into the―shire Militia, in which he had engaged at the persuasion of the young man who,on meeting him accidentally in town,had there renewed a slight acquaintance.Of his former way of life nothing had been known in Hertfordshire but what he told himself.As to his real character,had information been in

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