At length the small stone wall of the western edge of the Longbourne Estate came into Lydia's vision, and her pace quickened to a rather unbecoming run despite the rather vital injury to her own knee, which she looked upon in disdain. Surely Mr. Wickham would forgive her for her rash and rather crude appearance at the moment as soon as she revealed to him the recent turn of events, and as she thought about the gentlemana smile came upon her countenance.
Ah, Mr. Wickham! Truly a handsomer or more pleasant being had not yet lived on God's Earth! He was as dear to the Miss Lydia Bennet as a prize lop-eared hunting dog was to a fine country gentleman, and his overall loyalty to every fibre of Lydia's person would sweep away in his eyes indefinitelyher present rude appearance and strange, troublesome condition in which she should see him again. It was this image of Mr. Wickham that drove the poor girl forward in her quest, but at the very moment she approached the wall that skirted the estate she faltered in her step, recalling Mr. Collins' warning of eminent detonation to all who should entreat upon escaping their cruel fate at the hands of this terrible game.
"If my sisters and good friends were tobe thrown into the maw of oblivion because of my rash action of escape," she thought at that moment, "would they perhaps forgive me were we to meet again in the elysium fields of the otherworld above?"
"Wherefore not?" she asked aloud. "God and my peers would most definitely give me their pardon if I were to mention the reason for my flight. They have all agreed with me on the veritable smartness of the match that dear Mr. Wickham and I make, and, in addition,wherefore not forgive one who is caught in a star-crossed state against the willsof her own nature?" As soon as her own conscience and thought were justified, she stepped over the wall and into the adjoining meadow in the most unladylike fashion, but at that moment Lyidia was not concerned with making a proper appearance.
Upon reaching the other side of the wall, Lydia herself did not explode as she had expected. Thoroughly relieved with this newly learned fact, she thought again of her dear Mr. Wickham and continued on her sojourn to the military establishment in which he resided. However, it was in that moment the brooch pinned to her shoulder began a chirp of the most perilous persuasion, and Lydia's whole being began to quake as if she herself had been approached by the Heavenly Beings of the Apolcalypse. She then trod along through the moor at a pace as fast as her injuries would allow, and thought only of Mr. Wickham and the comfort of his abode shoudl she arrive there, but as she walked further and further from the estate of Longbourne the chirping of her brooch of the most hideous nature increased in tempo. "Dear Mr. Wickham!"the poor girl cried. "Should I ever have the chance to see your person once more, I would give up my place in Heaven to arrive in safety!"
It was at that moment the brooch ceased with its noisemaking and prompty exploded, and Lydia's left shoulder shattered into a thousand peices, and her left limb as well fell to the ground in a most terrible manner, utterly unattached to her person. Ignoring her condition of the most horrifying persuasion,Lydia quickly analyzed her situation and found herself to inorexably alive for the most part. "By the grace of a merciful God!" Lydia cried, and thought again of Mr. Wickham.She quickly concluded that despite her extreme injuries her dear Mr. Wickham would still take her into the bosom of his heart, and she staggered on in the most pathetic of manners, her own love for the gentleman and her last strength urging her on further toward her destination.
However, at that moment a sudden blast of a pistol fire was heard coming from the outskirts of the estate at Longbourne, and a multitude of birds flew upwards from the grass of the meadow in fear. Lydia herself turn toward the source of the blast for a moment, but at the next moment reminded herself of the urgent nature of her quest of seek out Mr. Wickham, and turned away, increasing her pace as much as her own spirit would allow. There was another blast from a pistol from the same location, and at last Lydia fell to the ground, her body unmoving, the back of her skull peirced by a bullet launched by the mysterious wielder of that terrible pistol.
The final thoughts of the poor girl Miss Lydia were that never again would she perceive the contenance of Mr. Wickham, and never again should she dine with him together on tea and dishes of a tomatoe nature.