To Elizabeth and Georgiana, the events of the evening seemed like a dreadful dream. Less than an hour ago they had been sitting at their occupations, as tranquil and secure as if disaster did not exist; and now the bolt had fallen, scattering them and bringing to each its message of terror and dismay. Georgiana felt as if it would be the hardest matter in the world to settle to any pretence of the ordinary life again, until news reached them from her brother; she longed to be able to be alone, to think it all over quietly, or to go to Elizabeth, to hear the result of her appeal to Miss Crawford, and instead she was obliged to establish herself in the drawing-room with Mr. Bertram, who showed no sign of wishing to go to bed, but was evidently prepared to sit up talking and drinking tea until midnight. Georgiana took out her embroidery frame, and prepared to be as agreeable a listener as she could, for she expected Elizabeth, who had gone to Miss Crawford, would come back at any minute, and she really felt more than a common measure of gratitude to Mr. Bertram for the service he had rendered them. This gratitude she again endeavoured to express, when Mr. Bertram began discussing the heavy state of the roads, and the consequent delays to which Darcy might be subjected. "Pray do not name it, Miss Darcy; as I said, I am only too glad to have been of the slightest assistance. It was a mere chance that I was there, for I should have returned home this week, but the open weather tempted me to stay on for a day or two longer." "It was indeed fortunate for us, for we should have had no information until to-morrow, if we had had to wait for a letter."