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PRIDE AND
PREJUDICE
BY
JANE AUSTEN
ILLUSTRATED
'■ I t^t r."!*w
EJAN 2 9 1991
LONDON
SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON & CO,
LIMITED
^
I
I
PEIDE AND PREJUDICE.
CHAPTER I.
? is a truth universally acknowledged,
that a single man in possession of a
good fortune must be in want of a
wife.
However little known the feelings or views of
such a man may be on his first entering a neigh-
borhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of
the surrounding families that he is considered as
the rightful property of some one or other of their
daughters.
"My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him
one day, "have you heard that Netherfield Park
is let at last? "
Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.
"But it is," returned she; "for Mrs. Long has
just been here, and she told me all about it."
Mr. Bennet made no answer.
6 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
" Do not you want to know who has taken it? "
cried his wife, impatiently.
" You want to tell me, and I have no objection
to hearing it."
This was invitation enough.
"Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long
says that Netherfield is taken by a young man of
large fortune from the north of England; that he
came down on Monday in a chaise and four to see
the place, and was so much delighted with it that
he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he
is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some
of his servants are to be in the house by the end of
next week."
"What is his name?"
"Bingley."
" Is he married or single? "
"Oh, single, my dear, to be sure! A single
man of large fortune ; four or five thousand a year.
What a fine thing for our girls! "
" How so? how can it affect them? "
"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "how
can you be so tiresome? You must know that I
am thinking of his marrying one of them."
" Is that his design in settling here? "
" Design? nonsense, how can you talk so! But
it is very likely that he may faHm love with one
of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon
as he comes."
^
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
" I see no occasion for that. You and the girls
may go, or you may send them by themselves,
which perhaps will be still better; for as you are
as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley might
like you the best of the party."
"My dear, you flatter me. I certainly have
had my share of beauty, but I do not pretend to be
anything extraordinary now. When a woman has
five grown-up daughters, she ought to give over
thinking of her own beauty."
"In such cases a woman has not often much
beauty to think of."
"But^ my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr.
Bingley when he comes into the neighborhood."
" It is more than I engage for, I assure you."
"But consider your daughters. Only think
what an establishment it would be for one of them !
Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to go,
merely on that account; for in general, you know,
they visit no new-comers. Indeed you must go;
for it will be impossible for us to visit him, if you
do not."
"You are over-scrupulous^ surely. I dare say
Mr. Bingley will be very glad to see you; and I
will send a few lines by you to assure him of my
hearty consent to his marrying whichever he
chooses of the girls; though I must throw in a
good word for my little Lizzy."
" I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is
8 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
not a bit better than the others ; and I am sure she
is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so good-
humored as Lydia. But you are always giving
her the preference.' '
"They have none of them much to recommend
them/' replied he: "they are all silly and igno-
rant, like other girls; but Lizzy has something
more of quickness than her sisters."
"Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own
children in such a way? You take delight in
vexing me. You have no compassion on my poor
nerves."
" You mistake me, my dear. I have a high re-
spect for your nerves. They are my old friends.
I have heard you mention them with consideration
these twenty years at least."
" Ah, you do not know what I suffer."
"But I hope you will get over it, and live to
see many young men of four thousand a year come
into the neighborhood."
" It will be no use to us, if twenty such should
come, since you will not visit them."
"Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are.
twenty, I will visit them all."
Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick park
sarcastic humor, reserve, and caprice, that th
experience of three-and-twenty years had bee?
insufficient to make his wife understand his char- |
acter. Her mind was less difficult to develop.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 9
She was a woman of mean understanding, little in-
formation, and uncertain temper. When she was
discontented, she fancied herself nervous. The
business of her life was to get her daughters mar-
riedj its solace was visiting and news.
CHAPTER n.
Mb. Bennet was among the earliest of those who
waited on Mr. Bingley. He had always intended
to visit him, though to the last always assuring
his wife that he should not go; and till the even-
ing after the visit was paid she had no knowledge
of it. It was then disclosed in the following
manner. Observing his second daughter employed
in trimming a hat, he suddenly addressed her
with, —
" I hope Mr. Bingley will like it, Lizzy."
" We are not in a way to know what Mr. Bing-
ley likes," said her mother, resentfully, " since
we are not to visit."
"But you forget, mamma," said Elizabeth,
"that we shall meet him at the assemblies, and
that Mrs. Long has promised to introduce him."
" I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such
' thing. She has two nieces of her own. She is a
selfish hypocritical woman, and I have no opinion
of her."
"No more have I," said Mr. Bennet j "and I
am glad to find that you do not depend on hei
serving you."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 11
Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any reply;
but unable to contain herself, began scolding one
of her daughters.
"Don't keep coughing so, Kitty, for heaven's |
sake! Have a little compassion on my nerves.
You tear them to pieces."
" Kitty has no discretion in her coughs," said
her father; " she times them ill."
"I do not cough for my own amusement," re-
plied Kitty, fretfully. " When is your next ball
to be, Lizzy? "
" To-morrow fortnight."
"Ay, so it is," cried her mother, "and Mrs.
Long does not come back till the day before; so it
will be impossible for her to introduce him, for
she will not know him herself."
"Then, my dear, you may have the advantage of
your friend, and introduce Mr. Bingley to her."
"Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, when I
am not acquainted with him myself; how can you
be so teasing? "
"I honor your circumspection. A fortnight's
acquaintance is certainly very little. One cannot
know what a man really is by the end of a fort-
night. But if we do not venture, somebody else
will; and after all, Mrs. Long and her nieces must
stand their chance; and therefore, as she will
think it an act of kindness, if you decline the
office, I will take it on myself."
12 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
The girls stared at their father. Mrs. Bennet
said only, " Nonsense, nonsense!"
"What can be the meaning of that emphatic
exclamation?" cried he. "Do you consider the
forms of introduction, and the stress that is laid
on them, as nonsense? I cannot quite agree with
you there. What say you, Mary? — for you are a
young lady of deep reflection, I know, and read
great books, and make extracts."
Mary wished to say something very sensible, but
knew not how.
"While Mary is adjusting her ideas," he con-
tinued, " let us return to Mr. Bingley."
" I am sick of Mr. Bingley," cried his wife.
" I am sorry to hear that; but why did not you
tell me so before? If I had known as much this
morning, I certainly would not have called on
him. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually
paid the visit, we cannot escape the acquaintance
now."
The astonishment of the ladies was just what he
wished, — that of Mrs. Bennet perhaps surpassing
the rest ; though when the first tumult of joy was
over, she began to declare that it was what she
had expected all the while.
"How good it was in you, my dear Mr. Bennet!
But I knew I should persuade you at last. I was
sure you loved your girls too well to neglect such
an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! and it
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 13
Is such a good joke, too, that you should have gone
this morning, and never said a word about it till
now."
"Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you
choose," said Mr. Bennet; and as he spoke, he
left the room, fatigued with the raptures of his
wife.
"What an excellent father you have, girls!"
said she, when the door was shut. "I do not
know how you will ever make him amends for his
kindness ; or me, either, for that matter. At our
time of life it is not so pleasant, I can tell you,
to be making new acquaintance every day ; but for
your sakes we would do anything. Lydia, my
love, though you are the youngest, I dare say Mr.
Bingley will dance with you at the next ball."
"Oh," said Lydia, stoutly, "I am not afraid;
for though I am the youngest, I 'm the tallest."
The rest of the evening was spent in conjectur-
ing how soon he would return Mr. Bennet's visit,
and determining when they should ask him to
dinner.
CHAPTER in.
Not all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the
assistance of her five daughters, could ask on the
subject, was sufficient to draw from her husband
any satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley.
They atfonlrfld frim in various wavs. — with bare-
faced questions, ingenious suppositions, and dis-
tant surmises ; but he eluded the skill of them all,
and they were at last obliged to accept the second-
hand intelligence of their neighbor, Lady Lucas.
Her report was highly favorable. Sir William
had been delighted with him. He was quite
young, wonderfully handsome, extremely agree-
able, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at
the next assembly with a large party. Nothing
could be more delightful! To be fond of dancing
was a certain step towards falling in love; and
very lively hopes of Mr. Bingley's heart were
entertained.
"If I can but see one of my daughters happily
settled at Netherfield," said Mrs. Bennet to her
husband, "and all the others equally well mar-
ried, I shall have nothing to wish for."
/
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 15
In a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Ben-
net's visit, and sat about ten minutes with him in
his library. He had entertained hopes of being
admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of whose
beauty he had heard much; but he saw only the
father. The ladies were somewhat more fortunate,
for they had the advantage of ascertaining, from
an upper window, that he wore a blue coat and
rode a black horse.
An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards
despatched; and already had Mrs. Bennet planned
the courses that were to do credit to her house-
keeping, when an answer arrived which deferred it
all. Mr. Bingley was obliged to be in town the
following day, and consequently unable to accept
the honor of their invitation, etc. Mrs. Bennet
was quite disconcerted. She could not imagine
what business he could have in town so soon after
his arrival in Hertfordshire; and she began to
fear that he might always be flying about from
one place to another, and never settled at Nether-
field as he ought to be. Lady Lucas quieted her
fears a little by starting the idea of his being gone
to London only to get a large party for the ball ;
and a report soon followed that Mr. Bingley was
to bring twelve ladies and seven gentlemen with
him to the assembly. The girls grieved over such
a number of ladies; but were comforted the day
before the ball by hearing that, instead of twelve,
16 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
he had brought only six with him from London,
his five sisters and a cousin. And when the party
entered the assembly-room, it consisted of only
five all together, — Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the
husband of the eldest, and another young man.
Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentleman-
like; he had a pleasant countenance, and easy,
unaffected manners. " His sisters were fine women,
with an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-
law, Mr. Hurst, merely looked the gentleman; but
his friend Mr. Darcy soon drew the attention of
the room by his fine, tall person, handsome feat-
ures, noble mien, and the report, which was in
general circulation within five minutes after his
entrance, of his having ten thousand a year. The
gentlemen pronounced him to be a fine figure of a
man, the ladies declared he was much handsomer
than Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at with great
admiration for about half the evening, till his
1 manners gave a disgust which turned the tide of
his popularity; for he was discovered to be proud,
to be above his company and above being pleased;
and not all his large estate in Derbyshire could
then save him from having a most forbidding, dis-
agreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be
compared with his friend.
Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted
with all the principal people in the room: he was
lively and unreserved, danced every dance, was
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 17
angry that the ball closed so early, and talked of
giving one himself at Netherfield. Such amiable
qualities must speak for themselves. What a con-
trast between him and his friend! Mr. Darcy
danced only once with Mrs. Hurst and once with
Miss Bingley, declined being introduced to any
other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in
walking about the room, speaking occasionally to
one of his own party. His character was decided.
He was the proudest, most disagreeable man in the
world, and everybody hoped that he would never
come there again. Amongst the most violent
against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of his
general behavior was sharpened into particular
resentment by his having slighted one of her
daughters.
Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the
scarcity of gentlemen, to sit down for two dances;
and during part of that time Mr. Darcy had been
standing near enough for her to overhear a conver-
sation between him and Mr. Bingley, who came
from the dance for a few minutes to press his friend
to join it.
"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you
dance. I hate to see you standing about by your-
self in this stupid manner. You had much better
dance."
" I certainly shall not. You know how I detest
it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my
VOL. i. — 2
18 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
partner. At such an assembly as this it would
be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and
there is not another woman in the room whom
it would not be a punishment to me to stand up
with."
"I would not be so fastidious as you are," cried
Bingley, "for a kingdom! Upon my honor, I
never met with so many pleasant girls in my life
as I have this evening; and there are several of
them, you see, uncommonly pretty."
"You are dancing with the only handsome girl
in the room," said Mr. Darcy, looking at the
eldest Miss Bennet.
"Oh, she is the most beautiful creature I ever
beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting
down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I
dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my part-
ner to introduce you."
"Which do you mean?" and turning round,
he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till, catching
her eye, he withdrew his own, and coldly said:
" She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to
tempt me; and I am in no humor at present to
give consequence to young ladies who are slighted
by other men. You had better return to your
partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting
your time with me."
Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy
walked off; and Elizabeth remained with no very
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 19
cordial feelings towards him. She told the story,
however, with great spirit among her friends ; fo"FA
she had a lively, playful disposition, which de- i
lighted in anything ridiculous.
The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to
the whole family. Mrs. Bennet had seen her
eldest daughter much admired hy the Netherfield
party. Mr. Bingley had danced with her twice,
and she had been distinguished by his sisters.
Jane was as much gratified by this as her mother
could be, though in a quieter way. Elizabeth felt
Jane's pleasure. Mary had heard herself men-
tioned to Miss Bingley as the most accomplished
girl in the neighborhood; and Catherine and
Lydia had been fortunate enough to be never
without partners, which was all that they had yet
learned to care for at a ball. They returned,
therefore, in good spirits to Longbourn, the village
where they lived, and of which they were the ♦
principal inhabitants. They found Mr. Bennet
still up. With a book, he was regardless of time;
and on the present occasion he had a good deal of
curiosity as to the event of an evening which had
raised such splendid expectations. He had rather
hoped that all his wife's views on the stranger
would be disappointed ; but he soon found that he
had a very different story to hear.
" Oh, my dear Mr. Bennet," as she entered the
room, " we have had a most delightful evening, a
20 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
most excellent ball. I wish you had been there.
Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it.
Everybody said how well she looked; and Mr.
Bingley thought her quite beautiful, and danced
with her twice. Only think of that, my dear: he
actually danced with her twice; and she was the
only creature in the room that he asked a second
time. First of all, he asked Miss Lucas. I was
so vexed to see him stand up with her; but, how-
ever, he did not admire her at all; indeed, nobody
can, you know; and he seemed quite struck with
Jane as she was going down the dance. So he
inquired who she was, and got introduced, and
asked her for the two next. Then the two third
he danced with Miss King, and the two fourth
with Maria Lucas, and the two fifth with Jane
again, and the two sixth with Lizzy, and the
Boulanger — "
"If he had had any compassion for me," cried
her husband, impatiently, "he would not have
danced half so much! For God's sake, say no
more of his partners. Oh that he had sprained
his ankle in the first dance! "
"Oh, my dear," continued Mrs. Bennet, "I
am quite delighted with him. He is so excessively
handsome! and his sisters are charming women.
I never in my life saw anything more elegant than
their dresses. I dare say the lace upon Mrs.
Hurst's gown — "
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 21
Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet
protested against any description of finery. She
was therefore obliged to seek another branch of
the subject, and related, with much bitterness of
spirit and some exaggeration, the shocking rude-
ness of Mr. Darcy.
"But I can assure you," she added, "that
Lizzy does not lose much by not suiting his fancy;
for he is a most disagreeable, horrid man, not at
all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited
that there was no enduring him ! He walked here,
and he walked there, fancying himself so very
great! Not handsome enough to dance with! I
wish you had been there, my dear, to have given
him one of your set-downs. I quite detest the
CHAPTER IV.
When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the for-
mer, who had been cautious in her praise of Mr.
Bingley before, expressed to her sister how very
much she admired him.
" He is just what a young man ought to be,"
said she, " sensible, good-humored, lively; and I
never saw such happy manners, — so much ease,
with such perfect good-breeding! "
"He is also handsome," replied Elizabeth,
"which a young man ought likewise to be
if he possibly can. His character is thereby
complete."
"I was very much nattered by his asking me
to dance a second time. I did not expect such a
compliment."
" Did not you? I did for you. But that is one
great difference between us. Compliments always
take you by surprise, and me never. What could
be more natural than his asking you again? He
could not help seeing that you were about five
times as pretty as every other woman in the room.
No thanks to his gallantry for that. Well, he
certainly is very agreeable, and I give you leave
/
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 23
to like him. You have liked many a stupider
person.' '
"Dear Lizzy! "
"Oh, you are a great deal too apt, you know, to
like people in general. You never see a fault in
anybody. All the world are good and agreeable
in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a
human being in my life."
" I would wish not to be hasty in censuring any
one; but I always speak what I think."
"I know you do; and it is that which makes
the wonder. With your good sense, to be so
honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of
others! Affectation of candor is common enough;
one meets with it everywhere. But to be candid
without ostentation or design — to take the good
of everybody's character and make it still better,
and say nothing of the bad — belongs to you
alone. And so you like this man's sisters, too,
do you? Their manners are not equal to his."
"Certainly not, at first; but they are very
pleasing women when you converse with them.
Miss Bingley is to live with her brother, and
keep his house; and I am much mistaken if
we shall not find a very charming neighbor in
her."
Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not con
vinced: their behavior at the assembly had not
been calculated to please in general; and with
24 PKIDE AND PREJUDICE.
more quickness of observation and less pliancy of
temper than her sister, and with a judgment, too,
unassailed by any attention to herself, she was
very little disposed to approve them. They were,
rin fact, very fine ladies; not deficient in good-
humor when they were pleased, nor in the power
of being agreeable where they chose it, but proud
and conceited. They were rather handsome ; had
been educated in one of the first private seminaries
in town; had a fortune of twenty thousand pounds;
were in the habit of spending more than they
ought, and of associating with people of rank ; and
were therefore in every respect entitled to think
well of themselves and meanly of others. They
were of a respectable family in the north of Eng-
land; a circumstance more deeply impressed on
their memories than that their brother's fortune
and their own had been acquired by trade.
Mr. Bingley inherited property to the amount
of nearly a hundred thousand pounds from his
father, who had intended to purchase an estate,
but did not live to do it. Mr. Bingley intended it
likewise, and sometimes made choice of his county;
but as he was now provided with a good house
and the liberty of a manor, it was doubtful to
many of those who best knew the easiness -»f his
temper, whether he might not spend the remainder
of his days at Netherfield, and leave the next
generation to purchase.
TEIDE AND PREJUDICE. 25
His sisters were very anxious for his having an
estate of his own; but though he was now es-
tablished only as a tenant, Miss Bingley was by
no means unwilling to preside at his table; nor
was Mrs. Hurst, who had married a man of
more fashion than fortune, less disposed to con-
sider his house as her home when it suited her.
Mr. Bingley had not been of age two years when
he was tempted, by an accidental recommendation,
to look at Netherfield house. He did look at it
and into it for half an hour; was pleased with
the situation and the principal rooms, satisfied
with what the owner said in its praise, and took
it immediately.
Between him and Darcy there was a very steady \
friendship, in spite of a great opposition of char-
acter. Bingley was endeared to Darcy by the
easiness, openness, and ductility of his temper,
though no disposition could offer a greater con-
trast to his own, and though with his own he
never appeared dissatisfied. On the strength of
Darcy's regard Bingley had the firmest reliance,
and of his judgment the highest opinion. In i
understanding, Darcy was the superior. Bingley j
was by no means deficient ; but Darcy was clever, j
He was at the same time haughty, reserved, and
fastidious; and his manners, though well bred,
were not inviting. In that respect his friend had
greatly the advantage. Bingley was sure of being
26 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
liked wherever lie appeared; Darcy was continually
giving offence. »
The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton
assembly was sufficiently characteristic. Bingley
had never met with pleasanter people or prettier
girls in his life; everybody had been most kind
and attentive to him ; there had been no formality,
no stiffness ; he had soon felt acquainted with all
the room j and as to Miss Bennet, he could not
conceive an angel more beautiful. Darcy, on the
contrary, had seen a collection of people in whom
there was little beauty and no fashion, for none of
whom he had felt the smallest interest, and from
none received either attention or pleasure. Miss
Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty; but she
smiled too much.
Mrs. Hurst and her sister allowed it to be so;
but still they admired her and liked her, and pro-
nounced her to be a sweet girl, and one whom
they should not object to know more of. Miss
Bennet was therefore established as a sweet girl ;
and their brother felt authorized by such commen-
dation to think of her as he chose.
CHAPTER V.
Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family
with whom the Bennets were particularly inti-
mate. Sir William Lucas had been formerly in
trade in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable
fortune, and risen to the honor of knighthood by
an address to the king during his mayoralty.
J?he distinction had, perhaps, been felt too
strongly. It had given him a disgust to his busi-
ness and to his residence in a small market town;
and quitting them both, he had removed with his
family to a house about a mile from Meryton,
denominated from that period Lucas Lodge ; where
he could think with pleasure of his own im-
portance, and unshackled by business, occupy
himself solely in being civil to all the world.
For though elated by his rank, it did not render
him supercilious; on the contrary, he was all
attention to everybody. By nature inoffensive,
friendly, and obliging, his presentation at St.
James's had made him courteous.
Lady Lucas was a very good kmcTof woman, not
too clever to be a valuable neighbor to Mrs. Ben-
net. They had several children. The eldest of
28 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
them — a sensible, intelligent young woman, about
twenty-seven — was Elizabeth's intimate friend.
That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets
should meet to talk over a ball was absolutely
necessary; and the morning after the assembly
brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to
communicate.
" You began the evening well, Charlotte,' ' said
Mrs. Bennet, with civil self-command, to Miss
Lucas. " You were Mr. Bingley's first choice."
u Yes; but he seemed to like his second better.' '
"Oh, you mean Jane, I suppose, because he
danced with her twice. To be sure, that did seem
as if he admired her, — indeed, I rather believe he
did, — I heard something about it, — but I hardly
know what, — something about Mr. Robinson."
" Perhaps you mean what I overheard between
him and Mr. Robinson: did not I mention it to
you? Mr. Robinson's asking him how he liked
our Meryton assemblies, and whether he did not
think there were a great many pretty women in
the room, and which he thought the prettiest;
and his answering immediately to the last ques-
tion, ' Oh, the eldest Miss Bennet, beyond a doubt ;
there cannot be two opinions on that point.' "
"Upon my word! Well, that was very de-
cided, indeed; that does seem as if — But, how-
ever, it may all come to nothing, you know."
"My overhearings were more to the purpose
\ /
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 29
than yours, Eliza," said Charlotte. " Mr. Darcy
is not so well worth listening to as his friend, is
he? Poor Eliza! to be only just tolerable."
"I beg you will not put it into Lizzy's head to
be vexed by his ill-treatment, for he is such a dis-
agreeable man that it would be quite a misfortune
to be liked by him. Mrs. Long told me last night
that he sat close to her for half an hour without
once opening his lips."
"Are you quite sure, ma'am? Is not there a
little mistake?" said Jane. "I certainly saw
Mr. Darcy speaking to her."
. "Ay, because she asked him at last how he liked
"Netherfield, and he could not help answering her;
but she said he seemed very angry at being spoke to. "
"Miss Bingley told me," said Jane, "that he
never speaks much unless among his intimate ac-
quaintance. With them he is remarkably agree-
able."
" I do not believe a word of it, my dear. If he
had been so very agreeable, he would have talked
to Mrs. Long. But I can guess how it was; every-
body says that he is eat up with pride, and I dare
say he had heard somehow that Mrs. Long does
not keep a carriage, and had to come to the ball
in a hack chaise."
" I do not mind his not talking to Mrs. Long,"
said Miss Lucas; "but I wish he had danced with
Eliza."
30 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
u Another time, Lizzy," said her mother, " 1
would not dance with him, if I were you."
"I helieve, ma'am, I may safely promise you
never to dance with him."
"His pride," said Miss Lucas, "does not of-
fend me so much as pride often does, because
there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder
that so very fine a young man, with family, fortune,
everything in his favor, should think highly of
himself. If I may so express it, he has a right to
be proud."
"That is very true," replied Elizabeth, "and
I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not
mortified mine."
"Pride," observed Mary, who piqued herself
upon the solidity of her reflections, "is a very
common failing, I believe. By all that I have
ever read, I am convinced that it is very common
indeed; that human nature is particularly prone
to it, and that there are very few of us who do not
cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score
of some quality or other, real or imaginary. Van-
ity and pride are different things, though the
words are often used synonymously. A person
may be proud without being vain. Pride relates
more to our opinion of ourselves; vanity to what
we would have others think of us."
"If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy," cried a
young Lucas, who came with his sisters, "I
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 31
should not care how proud I was. I would keep
a pack of foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine
every day."
"Then you would drink a great deal more than
you ought/' said Mrs. Bennet; "and if I were
to see you at it, I should take away your bottle
directly."
The boy protested that she should not; she
continued to declare that she would; and the ar-
gument ended only with the visit.
CHAPTEK VL
The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of
Netherfield. The visit was returned in due form.
Miss Bennet's pleasing manners grew on the
good-will of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and
though the mother was found to be intolerable,
and the younger sisters not worth speaking to, a
wish of being better acquainted with them was
expressed towards the two eldest. By Jane this
attention was received with the greatest pleasure;
but Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in theii
treatment of everybody, hardly excepting even
her sister, and could not like them; though thei*
kindness to Jane, such as it was, had a value, as
arising, in all probability, from the influence of
their brother's admiration. It was generally evi-
dent, whenever they met, that he did admire her;
and to her it was equally evident that Jane was
yielding to the preference which she had begun to
entertain for him from the first, and was in a way
to be very much in love; but she considered with
pleasure that it was not likely to be discovered
by the world in general, since Jane united with
great strength of feeling a composure of temper
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 33
and an uniform cheerfulness of manner, which
would guard her from the suspicions of the imper-
tinent. She mentioned this to her friend, Miss
Lucas.
"It may, perhaps, be pleasant," replied Char-
lotte, "to he able to impose on the public in such
a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be
so very guarded. If a woman conceals her affec-
tion with the same skill from the object of it,
she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and
it will then be but poor consolation to believe
the world equally in the dark. There is so much
of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment,
that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can
all begin freely, — a slight preference is natural
enough; but there are very few of us who have
heart enough to be really in love without encour-
agement. In nine cases out of ten, a woman had
better show more affection than she feels. Bingley
likes your sister undoubtedly; but he may never do
more than like her, if she does not help him on."
"But she does help him on, as much as her
nature will allow. If I can perceive her regard
for him, he must be a simpleton indeed not to
discover it too."
"Remember, Eliza, that he does not know
Jane's disposition as you do."
"But if a woman is partial to a man, and does
not endeavor to conceal ft. he must find it out."
VOL. i. — 3
34 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
¥ Perhaps he must if he sees enough of her.
But though Bingley and Jane meet tolerably
often, it is never for many hours together ; and as
they always see each other in large mixed parties,
it is impossible that every moment should be em-
ployed in conversing together. Jane should there-
fore make the most of every half-hour in which
she can command his attention. When she is
secure of him, there will be leisure for falling in
love as much as she chooses.' '
"Your plan is a good one," replied Elizabeth,
" where nothing is in question but the desire of
being well married; and if I were determined to
get a rich husband, or any husband, I dare say I
should adopt it. But these are not Jane's feel-
ings; she is not acting by design. As yet she
cannot even be certain of the degree of her own
regard, nor of its reasonableness. She has known
him only a fortnight. She danced four dauces
with him at Meryton; she saw him one morning
at his own house, and has since dined in company
with him four times. This is not quite enough
to make her understand his character.' '
"Not as you represent it. Had she merely
dined with him, she might only have discovered
whether he had a good appetite; but you must
remember that four evenings have been also spent
together — and four evenings may do a great
deal.,,
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 35
"Yes: these four evenings have enabled them
to ascertain that they both like Vingt-un better
than Commerce; but with respect to any other
leading characteristic, I do not imagine that much
has been unfolded.' '
"Well," said Charlotte, "I wish Jane success
with all my heart; and if she were married to him
to-morrow, I should think she had as good a
chance of happiness as if she were to be studying
his character for a twelvemonth. Happiness in
marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the
dispositions of the parties are ever so well known
to each other, or ever so similar beforehand, it
does not advance their felicity in the least. They
always continue to grow sufficiently unlike after-
wards to have their share of vexation; and it is
better to know as little as possible of the defects
of the person with whom you are to pass your life."
"You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not
sound. You know it is not sound, and that you
would never act in this way yourself."
Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions
to her sister, Elizabeth was far from suspecting
that she was herself becoming an object of some
interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. Darcy had /
at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty: he had
looked at her without admiration at the ball ; and
when they next met, he looked at her only to criti-
cise. But no sooner had he made it clear to himself
r
36 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
and his friends that she had hardly a good feature
in her face than he began to find it was rendered
uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression
of her dark eyes. To this discovery succeeded some
others equally mortifying. Though he had detected
with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect
symmetry in her form, he was forced to acknowl-
edge her figure to be light and pleasing; and in
spite of his asserting that her manners were not
those of the fashionable world, he was caught by
their easy playfulness. Of this she was perfectly
unaware: to her he was only the man who made
himself agreeable nowhere, and who had not
thought her handsome enough to dance with.
He began to wish to know more of her; and as
a step towards conversing with her himself, at-
tended to her conversation with others. His doing
so drew her notice. It was at Sir William Lucas's,
where a large party were assembled.
"What does Mr. Darcy mean," said she to
Charlotte, "by listening to my conversation with
Colonel Forster?"
"That is a question which Mr. Darcy only can
answer."
"But if he does it any more, I shall certainly
let him know that I see what he is about. He has
a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by be-
ing impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid
ii him."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 37
On his approaching them soon afterwards, though
without seeming to have any intention of speaking,
Miss Lucas defied her friend to mention such
a subject to him, which immediately provoking
Elizabeth to do it, she turned to him and said, —
"Did not you think, Mr. Darcy, that I ex-
pressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I
was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at
Meryton? "
"With great energy; but it is a subject which
always makes a lady energetic."
"You are severe on us."
"It will be her turn soon to be teased," said
Miss Lucas. "I am going to open the instru-
ment, Eliza, and you know what follows."
"You are a very strange creature by way of a
friend! — always wanting me to play and sing be-
fore anybody and everybody! If my vanity had
taken a musical turn, you would have been invalu-
able; but as it is, I would really rather not sit
down before those who must be in the habit of
hearing the very best performers." On ]V[Ass
Lucas's persevering, however, she added, "Very
well; if it must be so, it must." And gravely
glancing at Mr. Darcy, "There is a very fine
old saying, which everybody here is of course fa-
miliar with, — 'Keep your breath to cool your
porridge, ' — and I shall keep mine to swell my
song."
38 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
Her performance was pleasing, though by no
means capital. After a song or two, and before
she could reply to the entreaties of several that she
would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded at the
instrument by her sister Mary, who, having, in
consequence of being the only plain one in the
family, worked hard for knowledge and accom-
plishments, was always impatient for display.
r~ Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though
i vanity had given her application, it had given her
likewise a pedantic air and conceited manner,
which would have injured a higher degree of ex-
cellence than she had reached. Elizabeth, easy
and unaffected, had been listened to with much
more pleasure, though not playing half so well;
and Mary, at the end of a long concerto, was
glad to purchase praise and gratitude by Scotch
and Irish airs, at the request of her younger sis-
ters, who with some of the Lucases, and two or
three officers, joined eagerly in dancing at one
end of the room.
'Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indignation
at such a mode of passing the evening, to the ex-
clusion of all conversation, and was too much
engrossed by his own thoughts to perceive that Sir
William Lucas was his neighbor, till Sir William
thus began : —
" What a charming amusement for young peo-
ple this is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothing like
PBIDE AND PREJUDICE. 39
dancing, after all. I consider it as one of the first
refinements of polished societies."
" Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also
of heing in vogue amongst the less polished socie-
ties of the world : every savage can dance. ' '
Sir William only smiled. " Yonr friend per-
forms delightfully/' he continued, after a pause,
on seeing Bingley join the group; " and I doubt
not that you are an adept in the science yourself,
Mr. Darcy."
"You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe,
sir."
"Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable
pleasure from the sight. Do you often dance at
St. James's?"
"Never, sir."
" Do you not think it would be a proper compli-
ment to the place? "
"It is a compliment which I never pay to any
place if I can avoid it."
"You have a house in town, I conclude."
Mr. Darcy bowed.
"I had once some thoughts of fixing in town
myself, for I am fond of superior society; but I
did not feel quite certain that the air of London
Would agree with Lady Lucas."
He paused in hopes of an answer: but his com-
panion was not disposed to make any; and, Eliza-
beth at that instant moving towards them, he was
40 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
struck with the notion of doing a very gallant
thing, and called out to her, —
" My dear Miss Eliza, why are not you dancing?
Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this
young lady to you as a very desirable partner.
You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so
much beauty is before you." And taking her
hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy, who,
though extremely surprised, was not unwilling to
receive it, when she instantly drew back, and said
with some discomposure to Sir William, —
"Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of
dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I
moved this way in order to beg for a partner."
Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to
be allowed the honor of her hand, but in vain.
Elizabeth was determined; nor did Sir William at
all shake her purpose by his attempt at persuasion.
"You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza,
that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing
you; and though this gentleman dislikes the
amusement in general, he can have no objection,
I am sure, to oblige us for one half-hour.' '
"Mr. Darcy is all politeness," said Elizabeth,
smiling.
"He is, indeed; but considering the induce-
ment, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at
his complaisance; for who would object to such a
partner? "
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 41
Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away. Her
resistance had not injured her with the gentleman,
and he was thinking of her with some complacency,
when thus accosted by Miss Bingley,—
" I can guess the subject of your reverie."
" I should imagine not."
"You are considering how insupportable it
would be to pass many evenings in this manner,
— in such society; and, indeed, I am quite of
your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The
insipidity and yet the noise, the nothingness
and yet the self-importance, of all these people!
What would I give to hear your strictures on
them!"
" Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you.
My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have
been meditating on the very great pleasure which
a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman
can bestow."
Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his
face, and desired he would tell her what lady had
the credit of inspiring such reflections. Mr.
Darcy replied, with great intrepidity, —
" Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
" Miss Elizabeth Bennet! " repeated Miss Bing-
ley. "I am all astonishment. How long has
she been such a favorite? and pray when am I to
wish you joy?"
"That is exactly the question which I expected
42 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
you to ask. A lady's imagination is very rapid;
it jumps from admiration to love, from love to
matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be
wishing me joy."
"Nay, if you are so serious about it, I shall
consider the matter as absolutely settled. You
will have a charming mother-in-law, indeed, and
of course she will be always at Pemberley with
you."
He listened to her with perfect indifference,
while she chose to entertain herself in this manner;
and as his composure convinced her that all was
safe, her wit flowed along.
!
CHAPTER VII.
Mb. Bennet's property consisted almost entirely
in an estate of two thousand a year, which, un-
fortunately for his daughters, was entailed, in de-
fault of heirs male, on a distant relation ; and their
mother's fortune, though ample for her situation
in life, could but ill supply the deficiency of his.
Her father had been an attorney in Meryton, and
had left her four thousand pounds.
She had a sister married to a Mr. Philips, who
had been a clerk to their father, and succeeded him
in the business, and a brother settled in London in
a respectable line of trade.
The village of Longbourn was only one mile
from Meryton; a most convenient distance for the
young ladies, who were usually tempted thither
three or four times a week, to pay their duty to
their aunt, and to a milliner's shop just over the
way. The two youngest of the family, Catherine
and Lydia, were particularly frequent in these
attentions: their minds were more vacant than j|
their sisters', and when nothing better offered, |
walk to Meryton was necessary to amuse their
morning hours and furnish conversation for the
44 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
evening; and, however bare of news the country in
general might be, they always contrived to learn
some from their aunt. At present, indeed, they
were well supplied both with news and happiness
by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the
neighborhood; it was to remain the whole winter,
and Meryton was the head-quarters.
J( Their visits to Mfs. Philips were now produc-
' tive of the most interesting intelligence. Every
day added something to their knowledge of the
officers' names and connections. Their lodgings
were not long a secret, and at length they began
to know the officers themselves. Mr. Philips
visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a
source of felicity unknown before. They could
talk of nothing but officers; and Mr. Bingley's
large fortune, the mention of which gave anima-
tion to their mother, was worthless in their eyes
when opposed to the regimentals of an ensign.
After listening one morning to their effusions
on this subject, Mr. Bennet coolly observed, —
" From all that I can collect by your manner of
talking, you must be two of the silliest girls in
the country. I have suspected it some time, but
I am now convinced.' '
Catherine was disconcerted, and made no an-
swer; but Lydia, with perfect indifference, con-
tinued to express her admiration of Captain
Carter, and her hope of seeing him in the course
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 45
of the day, as he was going the next morning to
London.
"I am astonished, my dear," said Mrs. Bennet,
a that you should he so ready to think your own
children silly. If I wished to think slightingly
of anybody's children, it should not he of my own,
however."
"If my children are silly, I must hope to he
always sensible of it."
"Yes; but as it happens, they are all of them
very clever."
"This is the only point, I flatter myself, on
which we do not agree. I had hoped that our
sentiments coincided in every particular, but I
must so far differ from you as to think our two
youngest daughters uncommonly foolish."
" My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect
such girls to have the sense of their father and
mother. When they get to our age, I dare say
they will not think about officers any more than
we do. I remember the time when I liked a red
coat myself very well, — and, indeed, so I do still
at my heart ; and if a smart young colonel, with
five or six thousand a year, should want one of my
girls, I shall not say nay to him; and I thought
Colonel Forster looked very becoming the other
night at Sir William's in his regimentals."
"Mamma," cried Lydia, "my aunt says that
Colonel Forster and Captain Carter do not go so
46 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
often to Miss Watson's as they did when they first
came j she sees them now very often standing in
Clarke's library."
Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by the
entrance of the footman with a note for Miss
Bennet; it came from Netherfield, and the ser-
vant waited for an answer. Mrs. Bennet's eyes
sparkled with pleasure, and she was eagerly call-
ing out, while her daughter read, —
"Well, Jane, who is it from? What is it about?
What does he say? Well, Jane, make haste and
tell us j make haste, my love."
" It is from Miss Bingley," said Jane, and then
read it aloud : —
My dear Friend, — If you are not so compassion-
ate as to dine to-day with Louisa and me, we shall be in
danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives ; for
a whole day's tite-ii-tete between two women can never
end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can on the
receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to
dine with the officers.
Yours ever,
Caroline Bingley.
"With the officers! " cried Lydia; "I wonder
my aunt did not tell us of that."
" Dining out," said Mrs. Bennet; "that is
very unlucky."
" Can I have the carriage? " said Jane.
"No, my dear, you had better go on horseback,
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 47
because it seems likely to rain ; and then you must
stay all night."
"That would be a good scheme, " said Eliza-
beth, " if you were sure that they would not offer
to send her home."
" Oh, but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bing-
ley's chaise to go to Meryton; and the Hursts
have no horses to theirs."
" I had much rather go in the coach."
"But, my dear, your father cannot spare the
horses, I am sure. They are wanted in the farm,
Mr. Bennet, are not they? "
"They are wanted in the farm much oftener
than I can get them."
"But if you have got them to-day," said Eliza-
beth, "my mother's purpose will be answered."
She did at last extort from her father an ac-
knowledgment that the horses were engaged; Jane
was therefore obliged to go on horseback, and her
mother attended her to the door with many cheer-
ful prognostics of a bad day. Her hopes were
answered; Jane had not been gone long before it
rained hard. Her sisters were uneasy for her, but
her mother was delighted. The rain continued
the whole evening without intermission; Jane
certainly could not come back.
"This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed! " said
Mrs. Bennet, more than once, as if the credit of
making it rain were all her own. Till the next
48 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
morning, however, she was not aware of all the
felicity of her contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely
over when a servant from Netherfield brought the
following note for Elizabeth : —
My dearest Lizzy, — I find myself very unwell this
morning, which, I suppose, is to be imputed to my getting
wet through yesterday. My kind friends will not hear of
my returning home till I am better. They insist also on
my seeing Mr. Jones — therefore do not be alarmed if you
should hear of his having been to me — and, excepting a
sore throat and a headache, there is not much the matter
with me- Yours, etc.
"Well, my dear," said Mr. Bennet, when
Elizabeth had read the note aloud, "if your
daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness, —
if she should die, — it would be a comfort to know
that it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and
under your orders."
"Oh, I am not at all afraid of her dying.
People do not die of little trifling colds. She will
be taken good care of. As long as she stays there,
it is all very well. I would go and see her if I
could have the carriage."
Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, determined to
go to her, though the carriage was not to be had;
and as she was no horsewoman, walking was her
only alternative. She declared her resolution.
" How can you be so silly," cried her mother,
"as to think of such a thing, in all this dirt!
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 49
You will not be fit to be seen when you get
there. "
"I shall be very fit to see Jane, — which is all
I want."
"Is this a hint to me, Lizzy," said her father,
u to send for the horses? "
*' No, indeed. I do not wish to avoid the walk.
The distance is nothing, when one has a motive ;
only three miles. I shall be back by dinner."
"I admire the activity of your benevolence,"
observed Mary, "but every impulse of feeling
should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion,
exertion should always be in proportion to what is
required."
" We will go as far as Meryton with you," said
Catherine and Lydia. Elizabeth accepted their com-
pany, and the three young ladies set off together.
"If we make haste," said Lydia, as they
walked along, "perhaps we may see something of
Captain Carter, before he goes."
In Meryton they parted: the two youngest re-
paired to the lodgings of one of the officers' wives,
and Elizabeth continued her walk alone, crossing
field after field at a quick pace, jumping over
stiles and springing over puddles with impatient
activity, and finding herself at last within view of
the house, with weary ankles, dirty stockings, and
a face glowing with the warmth of exercise.
She was shown into the breakfast-parlor, where
VOL. I. — 4
50 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
all but Jane were assembled, and where her ap-
pearance created a great deal of surprise. That
she should have walked three miles so early in the
day in such dirty weather, and by herself, was al-
most incredible to Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley;
and Elizabeth was convinced that they held her in
contempt for it. She was received, however, very
politely by them; and in their brother's manners
there was something better than politeness, — there
was goo^-humor and kindness. Mr. Darcy said
very little, and Mr. Hurst nothing at all. The
former was divided between admiration of the bril-
liancy which exercise had given to her complexion
and doubt as to the occasion's justifying her com-
ing so far alone. The latter was thinking only of
his breakfast.
Her inquiries after her sister were not very fa-
vorably answered. Miss Bennet had slept ill, and
though up, was very feverish, and not well enough
to leave her room. Elizabeth was glad to be taken
to her immediately; and Jane, who had only been
withheld by the fear of giving alarm or incon-
venience, from expressirg in her note how much
she longed for such a visit, was delighted at her
entrance. She was not equaJ, however, to much
conversation: and when Miss Bingley left them
together, could attempt little beside expressions of
gratitude for the extraordinary kindness she was
treated with. Elizabeth silently attended her.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 51
When breakfast was over, they were joined by
the sisters; and Elizabeth began to like them her-
self, when she saw how much affection and solici-
tude they showed for Jane. The apothecary came;
and having examined his patient, said, as might
be supposed, that she had caught a violent cold,
and that they must endeavor to get the better of
it; advised her to return to bed, and promised her
some draughts. The advice was followed readily,
for the feverish symptoms increased, and her head
ached acutely. Elizabeth did not quit her room
for a moment, nor were the other ladies often
absent; the gentlemen being out, they had in fact
nothing to do elsewhere.
When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that
she must go, and very unwillingly said so. Miss
Bingley offered her the carriage, and she only
wanted a little pressing to accept it, when Jane
testified such concern at parting with her that
Miss Bingley was obliged to convert the offer of
the chaise into an invitation to remain at Nether-
field for the present. Elizabeth most thankfully
consented, and a servant was despatched to Long-
bourn, to acquaint tlio family with her stay, and
bring back a supply of clothes.
CHAPTER Vm.
At five o'clock the two ladies retired to dress, and
at half -past six Elizabeth was summoned to dinner.
To the civil inquiries which then poured in, and
amongst which she had the pleasure of distinguish-
ing the much superior solicitude of Mr. Bingley,
she could not make a very favorable answer. Jane
was by no means better. The sisters, on hearing
this, repeated three or four times how much they
were grieved, how shocking it was to have a bad
cold, and how excessively they disliked being ill
themselves; and then thought no more of the mat-
ter : and their indifference towards Jane, when not
immediately before them, restored Elizabeth to the
enjoyment of all her original dislike.
Their brother, indeed, was the only one of the
party whom she could regard with any compla-
cency. His anxiety for Jane was evident, and
his attentions to herself most pleasing; and they
prevented her feeling herself so much an intruder
as she believed she was considered by the others.
She had very little notice from any but him.
Miss Bingley was engrossed by Mr. Darcy, her
sister scarcely less so; and as for Mr. Hurst,
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 53
by whom Elizabeth sat, he was an indolent man,
who lived only to eat, drink, and play at cards,
who, when he found her prefer a plain dish to
a ragout, had nothing to say to her.
When dinner was over, she returned directly to
Jane, and Miss Bingley began abusing her as soon
as she was out of the room. Her manners were
pronounced to be very bad indeed, — a mixture of
pride and impertinence : she had no conversation,
no style, no taste, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst thought
the same, and added, —
" She has nothing, in short, to recommend her,
but being an excellent walker. I shall never
forget her appearance this morning. She really
looked almost wild."
" She did indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep
my countenance. Very nonsensical to come at all !
Why must she be scampering about the country,
because her sister had a cold? Her hair so untidy,
so blowzy! n
"Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her
petticoat, six incbes deep in mud, I am absolutely
certain, and the gown which had been let down to
hide it not doing its office."
"Your picture may be very exact, Louisa,"
said Bingley; "but this was all lost upon me. I
thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably
well when she came into the room this morning.
Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice."
54 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
" You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure," said
Miss Bingley; "and I am inclined to think that
you would not wish to see your sister make such
an exhibition."
" Certainly not."
"To walk three miles, or four miles, or five
miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt,
and alone, quite alone! what could she mean by
it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of
conceited independence, a most country-town in-
difference to decorum."
"It shows an affection for her sister that is
very pleasing," said Bingley.
"I am afraid, Mr. Darcy," observed Miss
Bingley, in a half whisper, "that this adven-
ture has rather affected your admiration of her
fine eyes."
"Not at all," he replied: "they were bright-
ened by the exercise." A short pause followed
this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again, —
" I have an excessive regard for Jane Bennet, —
she is really a very sweet girl, — and I wish with
all my heart she were well settled. But with such
a father and mother, and such low connections, I
am afraid there is no chance of it."
" I think I have heard you say that their uncle
is an attorney in Meryton? "
"Yes; and they have another who lives some-
where near Cheapside."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 55
"That is capital, " added her sister; and they
both laughed heartily.
" If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheap-
side," cried Bingley, "it would not make them
one jot less agreeable."
"But it must very materially lessen their
chance of marrying men of any consideration in
the world," replied Darcy.
To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his
sisters gave it their hearty assent, and indulged
their mirth for some time at the expense of their
dear friend's vulgar relations.
With a renewal of tenderness, however, they re-
paired to her room on leaving the dining-parlor,
and sat with her till summoned to coffee. She
was still very poorly, and Elizabeth would not
quit her at all, till late in the evening, when she
had the comfort of seeing her asleep, and when it
appeared to her rather right than pleasant that she
should go downstairs herself. On entering the
drawing-room, she found the whole party at loo,
and was immediately invited to join them; but
suspecting them to be playing high, she declined
it, and making her sister the excuse, said she
would amuse herself, for the short time she could
stay below, with a book. Mr. Hurst looked at her
with astonishment.
"Do you prefer reading to cards?" said he;
" that is rather singular."
■
56 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
" Miss Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, " de-
spises cards. She is a great reader, and has no
pleasure in anything else."
" I deserve neither such praise nor such cen-
sure," cried Elizabeth; "lam not a great reader,
and I have pleasure in many things."
"In nursing your sister I am sure you have
pleasure," said Bingley; " and I hope it will soon
be increased by seeing her quite well."
Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then
walked towards a table where a few books were
lying. He immediately offered to fetch her others ;
all that his library afforded.
" And I wish my collection were larger for your
benefit and my own credit; but I am an idle fel-
low; and though I have not many, I have more
than I ever looked into."
Elizabeth assured him that she could suit her-
self perfectly with those in the room.
"I am astonished," said Miss Bingley, "that
my father should have left so small a collection of
books. What a delightful library you have at
Pemberley, Mr. Darcy! "
"It ought to be good," he replied; "it has
been the work of many generations."
"And then you have added so much to it your-
self, — you are always buying books."
"I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family
library in such days as these."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 57
"Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that
can add to the beauties of that noble place.
Charles, when you build your house, I wish it may
be half as delightful as Pemberley."
"I wish it may."
"But I would really advise you to make your
purchase in that neighborhood, and take Pemberley
for a kind of model. There is not a finer county
in England than Derbyshire."
"With all my heart: I will buy Pemberley it-
self, if Darcy will sell it."
"I am talking of possibilities, Charles."
" Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it
more possible to get Pemberley by purchase than
by imitation."
Elizabeth was so much caught by what passed,
as to' leave her very little attention for her book;
and soon laying it wholly aside, she drew near the
card-table, and stationed herself between Mr. Bing-
ley and his eldest sister, to observe the game.
" Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring? "
said Miss Bingley; "will she be as tall as I am?"
" I think she will. She is now about Miss Eliz-
abeth Bennet's height, or rather taller."
"Howl long to see her again! I never met
with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a
countenance, such manners, and so extremely ac-
complished for her age. Her performance on the
pianoforte is exquisite."
58 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
"It is amazing to me," said Bingley, "how
young ladies can have patience to be so very ac-
complished as they all are."
"All young ladies accomplished! My dear
Charles, what do you mean? "
"Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint
tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely
know any one who cannot do all this; and I am
sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the
first time, without being informed that she was
very accomplished."
" Your list of the common extent of accomplish-
ments," said Darcy, "has too much truth. The
word is applied to many a woman who deserves it
no otherwise than by netting a purse or covering a
screen; but I am very far from agreeing with you
in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot
boast of knowing more than half a dozen in the
whole range of my acquaintance that are really
accomplished."
"Nor I, I am sure," said Miss Bingley.
"Then," observed Elizabeth, "you must com-
prehend a great deal in your idea of an accom-
plished woman."
"Yes; I do comprehend a great deal in it."
" Oh, certainly," cried his faithful assistant,
"no one can be really esteemed accomplished who
does not greatly surpass what is usually met with.
A woman must have a thorough knowledge of
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 59
music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern
languages, to deserve the word; and, besides all
this, she must possess a certain something in her
air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice,
her address and expressions, or the word will be
but half deserved."
" All this she must possess/ ' added Darcy;
"and to all she must yet add something more sub-
stantial in the improvement of her mind by exten~
sive reading.' '
"I am no longer surprised at your knowing
only six accomplished women. I rather wonder
now at your knowing any."
"Are you so severe upon your own sex as to
doubt the possibility of all this?"
" I never saw such a woman. I never saw such
capacity and taste and application and elegance
as you describe united."
Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out
against the injustice of her implied doubt, and
were both protesting that they knew many women
who answered this description, when Mr. Hurst
called them to order, with bitter complaints of
their inattention to what was going forward. As
all conversation was thereby at an end, Elizabeth
soon- afterwards left the room.
"Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, when the
door was closed on her, "is one of those young
ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the
60 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
other sex by undervaluing their own; and with
many men I dare say it succeeds; but, in my
opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art."
" Undoubtedly," replied Darcy, to whom this
remark was chiefly addressed, M there is meanness
in all the arts which ladies sometimes condescend
to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity
to cunning is despicable."
Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with
this reply as to continue the subject.
Elizabeth joined them again only to say that
her sister was worse, and that she could not leave
her. Bingley urged Mr. Jones's being sent for
immediately; while his sisters, convinced that no
country advice could be of any service, recom-
mended an express to town for one of the most
eminent physicians. This she would not hear of;
but she was not so unwilling to comply with their
brother's proposal; and it was settled that Mr.
Jones should be sent for early in the morning, if
Miss Bennet were not decidedly better. Bingley
was quite uncomfortable; his sisters declared that
they were miserable. They solaced their wretched-
ness, however, by duets after supper, while he
could find no better relief to his feelings than by
giving his housekeeper directions that every pos-
sible attention might be paid to the sick lady and
her sister.
CHAPTER IX.
Elizabeth passed the chief of the night in her
sister's room, and in the morning had the pleasure
of being able to send a tolerable answer to the in-
quiries which she very early received from Mr.
Bingley by a housemaid, and some time afterwards
from the two elegant ladies who waited on his
sisters. In spite of this amendment, however,
she requested to have a note sent to Longbourn,
desiring her mother to visit Jane, and form her
own judgment of her situation. The note was im-
mediately despatched, and its contents as quickly
complied with. Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by
her two youngest girls, reached Netherfield soon
after the family breakfast.
Had she found Jane in any apparent danger,
Mrs. Bennet would have been very miserable; but
being satisfied on seeing her that her illness was
not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering
immediately, as her restoration to health would
probably remove her from Netherfield. She would
not listen, therefore, to her daughter's proposal of
being carried home; neither did the apothecary,
who arrived about the same time, think it at all
•
62 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
advisable. After sitting a little while with Jane,
on Miss Bingley's appearance and invitation, the
mother and three daughters all attended her into
the breakfast-parlor. Bingley met them with
hopes that Mrs. Bennet had not found Miss
Bennet worse than she expected.
"Indeed I have, sir," was her answer. "She
is a great deal too ill to be moved. Mr. Jones
says we must not think of moving her. We must
trespass a little longer on your kindness."
"Removed!" cried Bingley. "It must not
be thought of. My sister, I am sure, will not
hear of her removal."
"You may depend upon it, madam," said Miss
Bingley, with cold civility, "that Miss Bennet
shall receive every possible attention while she
remains with us."
Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments.
"I am sure," she added, "if it was not for such
good friends, I do not know what would become of
her, for she is very ill indeed, and surfers a vast
deal, though with the greatest patience in the
world, which is always the way with her, for she
has, without exception, the sweetest temper I ever
met with. I often tell my other girls they are
nothing to her. You have a sweet room here, Mr.
Bingley, and a charming prospect over that gravel
walk. I do not know a place in the country that
is equal to Netherfield. You will not think of
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 63
quitting it in a hurry, I hope, though you have
but a short lease."
"Whatever I do is done in a hurry," replied
he; "and therefore if I should resolve to quit
Netherfield, I should probably be off in five min-
utes. At present, however, I consider myself as
quite fixed here."
"That is exactly what I should have supposed
of you," said Elizabeth.
"You begin to comprehend me, do you?" cried
he, turning towards her.
" Oh, yes; I understand you perfectly."
" I wish I might take this for a compliment; but
to be so easily seen through I am afraid is pitiful."
" That is as it happens. It does not necessarily
follow that a deep, intricate character is more or
less estimable than such a one as yours."
"Lizzy," cried her mother, "remember where
you are, and do not run on in the wild manner
that you are suffered to do at home."
"I did not know before," continued Bingley,
immediately, "that you were a studier of char-
acter. It must be an amusing study."
"Yes; but intricate characters are the most
amusing. They have at least that advantage."
"The country," said Darcy, "can in general
supply but few subjects for such a study. In a
country neighborhood you move in a very confined
and unvarying society."
64 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
"But people themselves alter so much that
there is something new to be observed in them
forever.' '
"Yes, indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by
his manner of mentioning a country neighborhood.
"I assure you there is quite as much of that going
on in the country as in town."
Everybody was* surprised; and Darcy, after
looking at her for a moment, turned silently away.
Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had gained a com-
plete victory over him, continued her triumph.
"I cannot see that London has any great ad-
vantage over the country, for my part, except the
shops and public places. The country is a vast
deal pleasanter, is not it, Mr. Bingley? "
"When I am in the country," he replied, "I
never wish to leave it; and when I am in town,
it is pretty much the same. They have each
their advantages, and I can be equally happy in
either."
"Ay, that is because you have the right dis
position. But that gentleman," looking at Darcy,
" seemed to think the country was nothing at all."
"Indeed, mamma, you are mistaken," said
Elizabeth, blushing for her mother. "You quite
mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there
was not such a variety of people to be met with in
the country as in town, which you must acknowl-
edge to be true."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 65
"Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were;
but as to not meeting with many people in this
neighborhood, I believe there are few neighbor
hoods larger. I know we dine with four-and-
twenty families."
Nothing but concern for Elizabeth could enable
Bingley to keep his countenance. His sister was
less delicate, and directed her eye towards Mr.
Darcy with a very expressive smile. Elizabeth,
for the sake of saying something that might turn
her mother's thoughts, now asked her if Charlotte
Lucas had been at Longbourn since her coming
away.
"Yes; she called yesterday with her father.
What an agreeable man Sir William is, Mr.
Bingley, — is not he? so much the man of fashion,
so genteel, and so easy ! He has always something
to say to everybody. That is my idea of good
breeding; and those persons who fancy themselves
very important and never open their mouths, quite
mistake the matter."
"Did Charlotte dine with you? "
"No; she would go home. I fancy she was
wanted about the mince-pies. For my part, Mr.
Bingley, I always keep servants that can do their
own work; my daughters are brought up differ-
ently. But everybody is to judge for themselves,
and the Lucases are a very good sort of girls, I
assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome!
vol. i. — 5
66 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
Not that I think Charlotte so very plain; but then
she is our particular friend."
"She seems a very pleasant young woman,"
said Bingley.
"Oh dear, yes; but you must own she is very
plain. Lady Lucas herself has often said so, and
envied me Jane's beauty. I do not like to boast
of my own child ^ but to be sure, Jane — one does
not often see anybody better looking. It is what
everybody says. I do not trust my own partiality.
When she was only fifteen there was a gentleman
at my brother Gardiner's in town so much in love
with her, that my sister-in-law was sure he would
make her an offer before we came away. But,
however, he did not. Perhaps he thought her too
young. However, he wrote some verses on her,
and very pretty they were."
"And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth,
impatiently. "There has been many a one, I
fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who
first ^s^vgrej^jyifi.. .efficacy of poetry in driving
'sway love! "
"I have been used to consider poetry as the
food of love," said Darcy.
"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Every-
thing nourishes what is strong already. But if it
be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am
convinced that one good sonnet will starve it
entirely away."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 67
Darcy only smiled; and the general pause which
ensued made Elizabeth tremble lest her mother
should be exposing herself again. She longed to
speak, but could think of nothing to say; and
after a short silence Mrs. Bennet began repeating
her thanks to Mr. Bingley for his kindness to
Jane, with an apology for troubling him also with
Lizzy. Mr. Bingley was unaffectedly civil in his
answer, and forced his younger sister to be civil
also, and say what the occasion required. She
performed her part, indeed, without much gra-
ciousness; but Mrs. Bennet was satisfied, and soon
afterwards ordered her carriage. Upon this signal
the youngest of her daughters put herself forward.
The two girls had been whispering to each other
during the whole visit; and the result of it was
that the youngest should tax Mr. Bingley with
having promised on his first coming into the
country to give a ball at Netherfield.
>£Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen,
with a fine complexion and good-humored coun-
tenance ; a favorite with her mother, whose affec-
tion had brought her into public at an early age.
She had high animal spirits, and a sort of natural
self-consequence, which the attentions of the offi-
cers, to whom her uncle's good dinners and her
own easy manners recommended her, had increased
into assurance. She was very equal, therefore, to
address Mr. Bingley on the subject of the ball,
68 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
and abruptly reminded him of his promise; add-
ing that it would be the most shameful thing in
the world if he did not keep it. His answer to
this sudden attack was delightful to her mother's
ear.
"I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep
my engagement; and when your sister is recov-
ered, you shall, i£ you please, name the very day
of the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing
while she is ill? "
Lydia declared herself satisfied. " Oh, yes, — it
would be much better to wait till Jane was well;
and by that time, most likely, Captain Carter
would be at Meryton again. And when you have
given your ball," she added, "I shall insist on
their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel Forster
it will be quite a shame if he does not."
Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed,
and Elizabeth returned instantly to Jane, leaving
her own and her relations ' behavior to the remarks
of the two ladies and Mr. Darcy; the latter of
whom, however, could not be prevailed on to join
in their censure of her, in spite of all Miss
Bingley's witticisms on fine eyes.
/
CHAPTER X.
The day passed much as the day before had done.
Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley had spent some
hours of the morning with the invalid, who con-
tinued, though slowly, to mend; and in the
evening Elizabeth joined their party in the draw-
ing-room. The loo table, however, did not ap-
pear. Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley,
seated near him, was watching the progress of his
letter, and repeatedly calling off his attention by
messages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bing-
ley were at piquet, and Mrs. Hurst was observing
their game.
Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was
sufficiently amused in attending to what passed
between Darcy and his companion. The perpetual
commendations of the lady either on his hand-
writing, or on the evenness of his lines, or on the
length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern
with which her praises were received, formed a
curious dialogue, and was exactly in unison with
her opinion of each.
"How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive
such a letter! "
W
70 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
He made no answer.
" You write uncommonly fast."
"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly."
"How many letters you must have occasion to
write in the course of a year ! Letters of business,
too! How odious I should think them! "
"It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot
instead of to yours."
"Pray tell your sister that I long to see her."
"I have already told her so once, by your
desire."
" I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me
mend it for you. I mend pens remarkably well."
" Thank you, — but I always mend my own."
" How can you contrive to write so even? "
He was silent.
"Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her
improvement on the harp, and pray let her know
that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful
little design for a table, and I think it infinitely
superior to Miss Grantley's."
"Will you give me leave to defer your raptures
till I write again? At present I have not room to
do them justice."
"Oh, it is of no consequence. I shall see her
in January. But do you always write such
charming long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?"
"They are generally long; but whether always
charming, it is not for me to determine.'?
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 71
"It is a rule with me. that a person who can
write a long letter with ease cannot write ilL"
"That will not do for a compliment to Darcy,
Caroline/ * cried her brother, "because he does not
write with ease. He studies too much for words
of four syllables. Do not you, Darcy? "
"My style of writing is very different from
yours."
"Oh," cried Miss Bingley, "Charles writes in
the most careless way imaginable. He leaves out
half his words, and blots the rest."
1 ' My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time
to express them ; by which means my letters some-
times convey no ideas at all to my correspondents."
"Your humility, Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth,
" must disarm reproof."
"Nothing is more deceitful," said Darcy,
"than the appearance of humility. It is often
only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an
indirect boast."
"And which of the two do you call my little
recent piece of modesty? "
"The indirect boast; for you are really proud of
your defects in writing, because you consider them
as proceeding from a rapidity of thought and care-
lessness of execution, which, if not estimable, you
think at least highly interesting. The power of
doing anything with quickness is always much
prized by the possessor, and often without a,ny
*m
*.-
72 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
attention to the imperfection of the performance.
When you told Mrs. Bennet this morning, that
if you ever resolved on quitting Netherfield you
should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be
a sort of panegyric, of compliment to yourself;
and yet what is there so very laudable in a pre-
cipitance which must leave very necessary busi-
ness undone, and can be of no real advantage to
yourself or any one else?"
"Nay," cried Bingley, "this is too much to
remember at night all the foolish things that were
said in the morning. And yet, upon my honor, I
believed what I said of myself to be true, and I
believe it at this moment. At least, therefore,
I did not assume the character of needless precipi-
tance merely to show off before the ladies."
"I dare say you believed it; but I am by no
means convinced that you would be gone with
such celerity. Your conduct would be quite as
dependent on chance as that of any man I know;
and if, as you were mounting your horse, a friend
were to say, 'Bingley, you had better stay till
next week, ' you would probably do it, — you
would probably not go, — and, at another word,
might stay a month."
"You have only proved by this," cried Eliza-
beth, "that Mr. Bingley did not do justice to his
own disposition. You have shown him off now
much more than he did himself."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 73
"I am exceedingly gratified/' said Bingley,
"by your converting what my friend says into
a compliment on the sweetness of my temper.
But I am afraid you are giving it a turn which
that gentleman did by no means intend; for he
would certainly think the better of me if under
such a circumstance I were to give a flat denial,
and ride off as fast as I could."
" Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness
of your original intention as atoned for by your
obstinacy in adhering to it?"
"Upon my word, I cannot exactly explain the
matter, — Darcy must speak for himself."
"You expect me to account for opinions which
you choose to call mine, but which I have never
acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, to
stand according to your representation, you must
remember, Miss Bennet, that the friend who is
supposed to desire his return to the house, and the
delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it
without offering one argument in favor of its
propriety."
"To yield readily — easily — to the persuasion
of a friend is no merit with you."
* To yield without conviction is no compliment
to the understanding of either."
"You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow noth-
ing for the influence of friendship and affection.
A regard for the requester would often make one
74 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
readily yield to a request, without waiting for ar-
guments to reason one into it. I am not particu-
larly speaking of such a case as you have supposed
about Mr. Bingley. We may as well wait, per-
haps, till the circumstance occurs, before we dis-
cuss the discretion of his behavior thereupon.
But in general and ordinary cases, between friend
and friend, where one of them is desired by the
other to change a resolution of no very great
moment, should you think ill of that person for
complying with the desire, without waiting to
be argued into it?"
" Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on
this subject, to arrange with rather more precision
the degree of importance which is to appertain to
this request, as well as the degree of intimacy
subsisting between the parties?"
" By all means," cried Bingley; "let us hear
all the particulars, not forgetting their compara-
tive height and size, for that will have more
weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you
may be aware of. I assure you that if Darcy were
not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with
myself, I should not pay him half so much defer-
ence. I declare I do not know a more awful
object than Darcy on particular occasions and in
particular places; at his own house especially,
and of a Sunday evening, when he has nothing
to do."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 75
Mr. Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thought she
could perceive that he was rather offended, and
therefore checked her laugh. Miss Bingley warmly
resented the indignity he had received, in an ex-
postulation with her brother for talking such
nonsense.
"I see your design, Bingley," said his friend.
"You dislike an argument, and want to silence
this."
"Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like
disputes. If you and Miss Bennet will defer
yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very
thankful; and then you may say whatever you
like of me."
"What you ask," said Elizabeth, "is no sacri-
fice on my side; and Mr. Darcy had much better
finish his letter."
Mr. Darcy took her advice, and did finish his
letter.
When that business was over, he applied to Miss
Bingley and Elizabeth for the indulgence of some
music. Miss Bingley moved with alacrity to the
pianoforte, and after a polite request that Eliza-
beth would lead the way, which the other as
politely and more earnestly negatived, she seated
herself.
Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister; and while
they were thus employed, Elizabeth could not help
observing, as she turned over some music-books
76 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
that lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr.
Darcy's eyes were fixed on her. She hardly knew
how to suppose that she could be an object of ad-
miration to so great a man, and yet that he should
look at her because he disliked her was still more
strange. She could only imagine, however, at
last, that she drew his notice because there was a
something about her more wrong and reprehensi-
ble, according to his ideas of right, than in any
other person present. The supposition did not
pain her. She liked him too little to care for
his approbation.
After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley
varied the charm by a lively Scotch air; and soon
afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing near Elizabeth,
said to her, —
" Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Ben-
net, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a
reel? "
She smiled, but made no answer. He repeated
the question, with some surprise at her silence.
"Oh," said she, "I heard you before; but 1
could not immediately determine what to say in
reply. You wanted me, I know, to say 'Yes,'
that you might have the pleasure of despising my
taste; but I always delight in overthrowing those
kind of schemes, and cheating a person of their
premeditated contempt. I have therefore made
up my mind to tell you that I do not want to
PEIDE AND PREJUDICE. 77
dance a reel at all; and now despise me if you
dare."
" Indeed I do not dare."
Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him,
was amazed at his gallantry; but there was a mix-
ture of sweetness and archness in her manner
which made it difficult for her to affront anybody,
and Darcy had never been so bewitched by any
woman as he was by her. He really believed that,
were it not for the inferiority of her connections,
he should be in some danger.
Miss Bingley saw or suspected enough to be
jealous; and her great anxiety for the recovery of
her dear friend Jane received some assistance from
her desire of getting rid of Elizabeth.
She often tried to provoke Darcy in dis-
liking her guest, by talking of their supposed
marriage, and planning his happiness in such an
alliance.
"I hope," said she, as they were walking to-
gether in the shrubbery the next day, "you will
give your mother-in-law a few hints, when this
desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of
holding her tongue; and if you can compass it, to
cure the younger girls of running after the officers.
And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, en-
deavor to check that little something, bordering
on conceit and impertinence, which your lady
78 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
"Have you anything else to propose for my
domestic felicity?"
" Oh, yes. Do let the portraits of your uncle
and aunt Philips be placed in the gallery at Pem-
berley. Put them next to your great-uncle the
judge. They are in the same profession, you
know, only in different lines. As for your Eliza-
beth's picture, you must not attempt to have it
taken, for what painter could do justice to those
beautiful eyes?"
"It would not be easy, indeed, to catch their
expression; but their color and shape, and the
eyelashes, so remarkably fine, might be copied."
At that moment they were met from another
walk by Mrs. Hurst and Elizabeth herself.
"I did not know that you intended to walk,"
said Miss Bingley, in some confusion, lest they
had been overheard.
"You used us abominably ill," answered Mrs.
Hurst, "running away without telling us that
you were coming out."
Then taking the disengaged arm of Mr. Darcy,
she left Elizabeth to walk by herself. The path
just admitted three. Mr. Darcy felt their rude-
ness, and immediately said, —
"This walk is not wide enough for our party.
We had better go into the avenue."
But Elizabeth, who had not the least inclination
to remain with them, laughingly answered, —
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
79
"No, no; stay where you are. You are charm-
ingly grouped, and appear to uncommon advantage.
The picturesque would be spoiled by admitting a
fourth. Good-by."
She then ran gayly off, rejoicing, as she rambled
about, in the hope of being at home again in a day
or two. Jane was already so much recovered as
to intend leaving her room for a couple of hoars
that evening.
/
CHAPTER XI.
When the ladies removed after dinner, Elizabeth
ran up to her sister, and seeing her well guarded
from cold, attended her into the drawing-room,
where she was welcomed by her two friends with
many professions of pleasure; and Elizabeth had
never seen them so agreeable as they were during
the hour which passed before the gentlemen ap-
peared. Their powers of conversation were consid-
erable. They could describe an entertainment
with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humor, and
laugh at their acquaintance with spirit.
But when the gentlemen entered, Jane was no
longer the first object; Miss Bingley's eyes were
instantly turned towards Darcy, and she had some-
thing to say to him before he had advanced many
steps. He addressed himself directly to Miss Ben-
net with a polite congratulation; Mr. Hurst also
made her a slight bow, and said he was "very
glad; " but diffuseness and warmth remained for
Bingley's salutation. He was full of joy and at-
tention. The first half-hour was spent in piling
up the fire, lest she should suffer from the change
of room; and she removed, at his desire, to the
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 81
other side of the fireplace, that she might be
farther from the door. He then sat down by her,
and talked scarcely to any one else. Elizabeth,
at work in the opposite corner, saw it all with
great delight.
When tea was over, Mr. Hurst reminded his
sister-in-law of the card-table, — but in vain. She
had obtained private intelligence that Mr. Darcy
did not wish for cards, and Mr. Hurst soon found
even his open petition rejected. She assured him
that no one intended to play, and the silence of
the whole party on the subject seemed to justify
her. Mr. Hurst had, therefore, nothing to do but
to stretch himself on one of the sofas and go to
sleep. Darcy took up a book. Miss Bingley did
the same; and Mrs. Hurst, principally occupied
in playing with her bracelets and rings, joined
now and then in her brother's conversation with
Miss Bennet.
Miss Bingley's attention was quite as much
engaged in watching Mr. Darcy's progress through
his book, as in reading, her own; and she was per-
petually either making some inquiry or looking
at his page. She could not win him, however, to
any conversation; he merely answered her ques-
tion and read on. At length, quite exhausted by
the attempt to be amused with her own book,
which she had only chosen because it was tha
second volume of his, she gave a great yawn and
VOL. i. — 6
82 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
said: "How pleasant it is to spend an evening in
this way! I declare, after all, there is no enjoy-
ment like reading! How much sooner one tires of
anything than of a book! When I have a house
of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an
excellent library."
No one made any reply. She then yawned again,
threw aside her Jbook, and cast her eyes round the
room in quest of some amusement; when, hearing
her brother mentioning a ball to Miss Bennet, she
turned suddenly towards him and said, —
" By the by, Charles, are you really serious in
meditating a dance at Netherfield? I would ad-
vise you, before you determine on it, to consult
the wishes of the present party; I am much
mistaken if there are not some among us to
whom a ball would be rather a punishment than
a pleasure."
" If you mean Darcy, " cried her brother, "he
may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins ; but
as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing, and as
soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough, I
shall send round my cards."
"T should like balls infinitely better," she re-
plied, "if they were carried on in a different man-
ner; but there is something insufferably tedious in
the usual process of such a meeting. It would
surely be much more rational if conversation in-
stead of dancing made the order of the day."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 83
u Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare
say; but it would not be near so much like a
ball.,,
Miss Bingley made no answer, and soon after-
wards got up and walked about the room. Her
figure was elegant, and she walked well; but
Darcy, at whom it was all aimed, was still inflexi-
bly studious. In the desperation of her feelings
she resolved on one effort more; and turning to
Elizabeth, said, —
"Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to
follow my example, and take a turn about the
room. I assure you it is very refreshing after
sitting so long in one attitude."
Elizabeth was surprised, but agreed to it imme-
diately. Miss Bingley succeeded no less in the
real object of her civility : Mr. Darcy looked up.
He was as much awake to the novelty of attention
in that quarter as Elizabeth herself could be, and
unconsciously closed his book. He was directly
invited to join their party; but he declined it, ob-
serving that he could imagine but two motives for
their choosing to walk up and down the room to-
gether, with either of which motives his joining
them would interfere. What could he mean?
She was dying to know what could be his mean-
ing, and asked Elizabeth whether she could at all
understand him.
"Not at all," was her answer; "but, depend
K
84 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
upon it, he means to be severe on us, and our
surest way of disappointing him will be to ask
nothing about it."
Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disap-
pointing Mr. Darcy in anything, and persevered,
therefore, in requiring an explanation of his two
motives.
"I have not. the smallest objection to explain-
ing them," said he, as soon as she allowed hini to
speak. " You either choose this method of pass-
ing the evening because you are in each other's
confidence and have secret affairs to discuss, or
because you are conscious that your figures appear
to the greatest advantage in walking: if the first,
I should be completely in your way; and if the
second, I can admire you much better as I sit by
the fire."
"Oh, shocking!" cried Miss Bingley. "I
never heard anything so abominable. How shall
we punish him for such a speech?"
" Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclina-
tion, " said Elizabeth. "We can all plague and
punish one another. Tease him, laugh at him.
Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to
be done."
"But upon my honor I do not. I do assure you
that my intimacy has not yet taught me that.
Tease calmness of temper and presence of mind!
No, no; I feel he may defy us there. And as to
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 85
laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you
please, by attempting to laugh without a subject.
Mr. Darcy may hug himself.' '
"Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!" cried
Elizabeth. "That is an uncommon advantage,
and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would
be a great loss to me to have many such acquaint-
ance. I dearly love a laugh."
u Miss Bingley," said he, u has given me credit
for more than can be. The wisest and best of men
— nay, the wisest and best of their actions — may
be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first
object in life is a joke."
u Certainly, " replied Elizabeth, "there are such*^
people, but I hope I am not one of them. I hope
I never ridicule what is wise or good. Eollies
and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, do divert
me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can.
But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are
without."
" Perhaps that is not possible for any one. But
it has been the study of my life to avoid those
weaknesses which often expose a strong under-
standing to ridicule."
"Such as vanity and pride."
" Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride
— where there is a real superiority of mind —
pride will be always under good regulation."
Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile.
86 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
" Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I pre-
sume," said Miss Bingley; " and pray what is the
result?"
"lam perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy
has no defect. He owns it himself without
disguise."
.. "No," said Darcy, "I have made no such pre-
f tension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I
hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not
vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding j
certainly too little for the convenience of the
world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of
others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against
myself. My feelings are not puffed about with
every attempt to move them. My temper would
perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion
once lost is lost forever."
"That is a failing, indeed! " cried Elizabeth.
"Implacable resentment is a shade in a character.
^ But you have chosen your fault well. I really
cannot laugh at it. You are safe from me."
"There is, I believe, in every disposition a ten-
dency to some particular evil, a natural defect,
which not even the best education can overcome."
"And your defect is a propensity to hate
everybody."
"And yours," he replied, with a smile, "is
wilfully to misunderstand them."
"Do let us have a little music," cried Miss
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 87
Biugley, tired of a conversation in which she had
no share. " Louisa, you will not mind my wak-
ing Mr. Hurst."
Her sister made not the smallest objection, and
the pianoforte was opened; and Darcy, after a few
moments' recollection, was not sorry for it. He
began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too
much attention.
CHAPTER XII.
In consequence of an agreement between the sis-
ters, Elizabeth wrote the next morning to her
mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent for
them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet,
who had calculated on her daughters remaining at
Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which
would exactly finish Jane's week, could not bring
herself to receive them with pleasure before. Her
answer, therefore, was not propitious, at least not
to Elizabeth's wishes, for she was impatient to get
home. Mrs. Bennet sent them word that they
could not possibly have the carriage before Tues-
day; and in her postscript it was added, that if
Mr. Bingley and his sister pressed them to stay
longer, she could spare them very well. Against
staying longer, however, Elizabeth was positively
resolved, — nor did she much expect it would be
asked; and fearful, on the contrary, of being con-
sidered as intruding themselves needlessly long,
she urged Jane to borrow Mr. Bingley's carriage
immediately, and at length it was settled that
their original design of leaving Netherfield that
morning should be mentioned, and the request
made.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 89
The communication excited many professions of
concern; and enough was said of wishing them to
stay at least till the following day to work on
Jane j and till the morrow their going was de-
ferred. Miss Bingley was then sorry that she had
proposed the delay; for her jealousy and dislike
of one sister much exceeded her affection for the
other.
The master of the house heard with real sorrow
that they were to go so soon, and repeatedly tried
to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be
safe for her, — that she was not enough recovered;
but Jane was firm where she felt herself to be
right.
To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence.
Elizabeth had been at Netherfield long enough.
She attracted him more than he liked; and Miss
Bingley was uncivil to her, and more teasing than
usual to himself. He wisely resolved to be par-
ticularly careful that no sign of admiration should
now escape him, — nothing that could elevate her
with the hope of influencing his felicity; sensible
that if such an idea had been suggested, his be-
havior during the last day must have material
weight in confirming or crushing it. Steady to
his purpose, he scarcely spoke ten words to her
through the whole of Saturday; and though they
were at one time left by themselves for haif an
90 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book,
and would not even look at her.
On Sunday, after morning service, the separa-
tion, so agreeable to almost all, took place. Miss
Bingley's civility to Elizabeth increased at last
very rapidly, as well as her affection for Jane ; and
when they parted, after assuring the latter of the
pleasure it would always give her to see her either
at Longbourn or Netherfield, and embracing her
most tenderly, she even shook hands with the
former. Elizabeth took leave of the whole party
in the liveliest spirits.
They were not welcomed home very cordially by
their mother. Mrs. Bennet wondered at their
coming, and thought them very wrong to give so
much trouble, and was sure Jane would have
caught cold again. But their father, though very
laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was really
glad to see them; he had felt their importance in
the family circle. The evening conversation,
when they were all assembled, had lost much of
its animation, and almost all its sense, by the
absence of Jane and Elizabeth.
They found Mary, as usual, deep in the study
of thorough bass and human nature ; and had some
new extracts to admire, and some new observations
of threadbare morality to listen to. Catherine
and Lydia had information for them of a different
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
91
sort. Much had been done and much had been
said in the regiment since the preceding Wednes-
day; several of the officers had dined lately with
their uncle; a private had been flogged, and it
had actually been hinted that Colonel Forster was
going to be married.
CHAPTER XIII.
"I hope, my dear;" said Mr. Bennet to his wife,
as they were at breakfast the next morning, "that
you have ordered a good dinner to-day, because I
have reason to expect an addition to our family
party."
"Who do you mean, my dear? I know of no-
body that is coming, I am sure, unless Charlotte
Lucas should happen to call in; and I hope my
dinners are good enough for her. I do not believe
she often sees such at home.,,
"The person of whom I speak is a gentleman
and a stranger."
Mrs. Bennet's eyes sparkled. "A gentleman
and a stranger! It is Mr. Bingley, I am sure.
Why, Jane, you never dropped a word of this, —
you sly thing! Well, I am sure I shall be ex-
tremely glad to see Mr. Bingley. But — good
Lord ! how unlucky ! there is not a bit of fish to
be got to-day. Lydia, my love, ring the bell.
I must speak to Hill this moment."
"It is not Mr. Bingley," said her husband;
"it is a person whom I never saw in the whole
course of my life."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 93
This roused a general astonishment; and he had
the pleasure of being eagerly questioned by his
wife and five daughters at once.
After amusing himself some time with their
curiosity, he thus explained: " About a month
ago I received this letter, and about a fortnight
ago I answered it ; for I thought it a case of some
delicacy, and requiring early attention. It is
from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who, when I am
dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon
as he pleases."
" Oh, my dear," cried his wife, " I cannot bear
to hear that mentioned. Pray do not talk of that
odious man. I do think it is the hardest thing in
the world, that your estate should be entailed
away from your own children ; and I am sure, if I
had been you, I should have tried long ago to do
something or other about it."
Jane and Elizabeth attempted to explain to her
the nature of an entail. They had often attempted
it before: but it was a subject on which Mrs.
Bennet was beyond the reach of reason; and she
continued to rail bitterly against the cruelty of
settling an estate away from a family of five
daughters, in favor of a man whom nobody cared
anything about.
"It certainly is a most iniquitous affair," said
M* Bennet; "and nothing can clear Mr. Collins
from the guilt of inheriting Longbourn. But if
94 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
you will listen to his letter, you may perhaps be
a little softened by his manner of expressing
himself. "
"No, that I am sure I shall not; and I think it
was very impertinent of him to write to you at all,
and very hypocritical. I hate such false friends.
Why could not he keep on quarrelling with you,
as his father did before him?"
"Why, indeed, he does seem to have had some
filial scruples on that head, as you will hear."
Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent, 15th October.
Dear Sir, — The disagreement subsisting between
yourself and my late honored father always gave me much
uneasiness ; and since I have had the misfortune to lose
him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach : but
for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fear-
ing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me
to be on good terms with any one with whom it had al-
ways pleased him to be at variance. [" There, Mrs.
Bennet 1 "] My mind, however, is now made up op the
subject; for, having received ordination at Easter, I
have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the
patronage of the Right Honorable Lady Catherine de
Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty
and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory
of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavor to
demean myself with grateful respect towards her Lady-
ship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and cere-
monies which are instituted by the Church of England.
As a clergyman, moreover, I feel it my duty to promote
and establish the blessing of peace in all families within
the reach of my influence ; and on these grounds I flatter
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 95
myself that my present overtures of good-will are highly
commendable, and that the circumstance of my being
next in the entail of Longbourn estate will be kindly over-
looked on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered
olive branch. I cannot be otherwise than concerned at
being the means of injuring your amiable daughters, and
beg leave to apologize for it, as well as to assure you of
my readiness to make them every possible amends ; but
of this hereafter. If you should have no objection to re-
ceive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfac-
tion of waiting on you and your family, Monday, Novem-
ber 18th, by four o'clock, and shall probably trespass on
your hospitality till the Saturday se'nnight following,
which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady
Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence
on a Sunday, provided that some other clergyman is
engaged to do the duty of the day. I remain, dear sir,
with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters,
your well-wisher and friend,
William Collins.
" At four o'clock, therefore, we may expect this
peace-making gentleman," said Mr. Bennet, as he
folded up the letter. " He seems to be a most
conscientious and polite young man, upon my
word; and I doubt not will prove a valuable ac-
quaintance, especially if Lady Catherine should be
so indulgent as to let him come to us again."
" There is some sense in what he says about the
girls, however; and if he is disposed to make
them any amends, I shall not be the person to
discourage him."
"Though it is difficult," said Jane, "to guess
96 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
in what way he can mean to make us the atone-
ment he thinks our due, the wish is certainly to
his credit."
Elizabeth was chiefly struck with his extraor-
dinary deference for Lady Catherine, and his kind
intention of christening, marrying, and burying
his parishioners whenever it were required.
"He must be "an oddity, I think," said she.
"I cannot make him out. There is something
very pompous in his style. And what can he
mean by apologizing for being next in the entail?
We cannot suppose he would help it, if he could.
Can he be a sensible man, sir? "
"No, my dear; I think not. I have great
hopes of finding him quite the reverse. There is
a mixture of servility and self-importance in his
letter which promises well. I am impatient to
see him."
"In point of composition," said Mary, "his
letter does not seem defective. The idea of the
olive branch perhaps is not wholly new, yet I
think it is well expressed."
To Catherine and Lydia neither the letter nor
its writer was in any degree interesting. It was
next to impossible that their cousin should come
in a scarlet coat, and it was now some weeks since
they had received pleasure from the society of a
man in any other color. As for their mother, Mr.
Collins's letter had done away much of her ill-will,
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 97
and she was preparing to see him with a degree
of composure which astonished her husband and
daughters.
Mr. Collins was punctual to his time, and was
received with great politeness by the whole family.
Mr. Bennet indeed said little; but the ladies were
ready enough to talk, and Mr. Collins seemed
neither in need of encouragement, nor inclined to
be silent himself. He was a tall, heavy-looking
young man of five-and-twenty. His air was grave
and stately, and his manners were very formal.
He had not been long seated before he compli-
mented Mrs. Bennet on having so fine a family of
daughters, said he had heard much of their beauty,
but that in this instance fame had fallen short of
the truth; and added that he did not doubt her
seeing them all in due time well disposed of in
marriage. This gallantry was not much to the
taste of some of his hearers; but Mrs. Bennet,
who quarrelled with no compliments, answered
most readily, —
"You are very kind, sir, I am sure; and I wish
with all my heart it may prove so; for else they
will be destitute enough. Things are settled so
oddly."
"You allude, perhaps, to the entail of this
estate. "
"Ah, sir, I do indeed. It is a grievous affair
to my poor girls, you must confess. Not that I
VOL. i. — 7
98 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
mean to find fault with you, for such things I
know are all chance in this world. There is no
knowing how estates will go when once they come
to be entailed."
"I am very sensible, madam, of the hardship
to my fair cousins, and could say much on the
subject, but that I am cautious of appearing for-
ward and precipitate. But I can assure the young
ladies that I come prepared to admire them. At
present I will not say more ; but perhaps, when we
are better acquainted — "
He was interrupted by a summons to dinner;
and the girls smiled on each other. They were
not the only objects of Mr. Collins's admiration.
The hall, the dining-room, and all its furniture
were examined and praised; and his commendation
of everything would have touched Mrs. Bennet's
heart, but for the mortifying supposition of his
viewing it all as his own future property. The
dinner too, in its turn, was highly admired; and
he begged to know to which of his fair cousins the
excellence of its cookery was owing. But here he
was set right by Mrs. Bennet, who assured him,
with some asperity, that they were very well able
to keep a good cook, and that her daughters had
nothing to do in the kitchen. He begged pardon
for having displeased her. In a softened tone she
declared herself not at all offended; but he con-
tinued to apologize for about a quarter of an hour.
CHAPTER XIV.
During dinner Mr. Bennet scarcely spoke at all;
but when the servants were withdrawn, he thought
it time to have some conversation with his guest,
and therefore started a subject in which he ex-
pected him to shine, by observing that he seemed
very fortunate in his patroness. Lady Catherine
de Bourgh's attention to his wishes and consider-
ation for his comfort appeared very remarkable.
Mr. Bennet could not have chosen better. Mr.
Collins was eloquent in her praise. The subject
elevated him to more than usual solemnity of
manner; and with a most important aspect he pro-
tested that "he had never in his life witnessed
such behavior in a person of rank, — such affability
and condescension, as he had himself experienced
from Lady Catherine. She had been graciously
pleased to approve of both the discourses which he
had already had the honor of preaching before her.
She had also asked him twice to dine at Rosings.
and had sent for him only the Saturday before, to
make up her pool of quadrille in the evening.
Lady Catherine was reckoned proud by many
people, he knew, but he had never seen anything
100 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
but affability in her. She had always spoken to
him as she would to any other gentleman; she
made not the smallest objection to his joining in
the society of the neighborhood, nor to his leaving
his parish occasionally for a week or two to visit
his relations. She had even condescended to
advise him to marry as soon as he could, provided
he chose with discretion; and had once paid him
a visit in his humble parsonage, where she had
perfectly approved all the alterations he had been
making, and had even vouchsafed to suggest some
herself, — some shelves in the closets upstairs."
"That is all very proper and civil, I am sure,"
said Mrs. Bennet, "and I dare say she is a very
agreeable woman. It is a pity that great ladies in
general are not more like her. Does she live near
you, sir? "
u The garden in which stands my humble abode
is separated only by a lane from Rosings Park, her
Ladyship's residence."
"I think you said she was a widow, sir? Has
she any family? "
"She has one only daughter, the heiress of
Rosings, and of very extensive property."
"Ah," cried Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head,
1 ' then she is better off than many girls. And what
sort of young lady is she? Is she handsome? "
" She is a most charming young lady, indeed.
Lady Catherine herself says that, in point of true
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 101
beauty, Miss de Bourgh is far superior to the
handsomest of her sex; because there is that in
her features which marks the young woman of
distinguished birth. She is unfortunately of a
sickly constitution, which has prevented her mak-
ing that progress in many accomplishments which
she could not otherwise have failed of, as I am
informed by the lady who superintended her educa-
tion, and who still resides with them. But she is
perfectly amiable, and often condescends to drive
by my humble abode in her little phaeton and
ponies."
"Has she been presented? I do not remember
her name among the ladies at court."
" Her indifferent state of health unhappily
prevents her being in town; and by that means,
as I told Lady Catherine myself one day, has de-
prived the British Court of its brightest orna-
ment. Her Ladyship seemed pleased with the
idea; and you may imagine that I am happy on
every occasion to offer those little delicate compli-
ments which are always acceptable to ladies. I
have more than once observed to Lady Catherine,
that her charming daughter seemed born to be a
duchess; and that the most elevated rank, instead
of giving her consequence, would be adorned by
her. These are the kind of little things which
please her Ladyship, and it is a sort of attention
102 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
which I conceive myself peculiarly bound to
pay."
"You judge very .properly," said Mr. Bennet;
"and it is happy for you that you possess the
talent of nattering with delicacy. May I ask
whether these pleasing attentions proceed from
the impulse of the moment, or are the result of
previous study? "
" They arise chiefly from what is passing at the
time ; and though I sometimes amuse myself with
suggesting and arranging such little elegant com-
pliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions,
I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as
possible.' '
Mr. Bennet's expectations were fully answered.
His cousin was as absurd as he had hoped; and he
listened to him with the keenest enjoyment, main-
taining at the same time the most resolute com-
posure of countenance, and, except in an occasional
glance at Elizabeth, requiring no partner in his
pleasure.
By tea-time, however, the dose had been enough,
and Mr. Bennet was glad to take his guest into
the drawing-room again, and when tea was over,
glad to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Mr.
Collins readily assented, and a book was produced;
but on beholding it (for everything announced it
to be from a circulating library) he started back,
t>RIDE AttD PREJUDICE. 103
and begging pardon, protested that he never read
novels. Kitty stared at him, and Lydia exclaimed.
Other books were produced, and after some delib-
eration he chose Fordyce's Sermons. Lydia gaped
as he opened the volume; and before he had with
very monotonous solemnity read three pages, she
interrupted him with, —
"Do you know, mamma, that my uncle Philips
talks of turning away Richard? and if he does,
Colonel Forster will hire him. My aunt told me
so herself on Saturday. I shall walk to Meryton
to-morrow to hear more about it, and to ask when
Mr. Denny comes back from town."
Lydia was bid by her two eldest sisters to hold
her tongue; but Mr. Collins, much offended, laid
aside his book, and said, —
" I have often observed how little young ladies
are interested by books of a serious stamp, though
written solely for their benefit. It amazes me, I
confess ; for certainly there can be nothing so ad-
vantageous to them as instruction. But I will no
longer importune my young cousin."
Then turning to Mr. Bennet, he offered himself
as his antagonist at backgammon. Mr. Bennet
accepted the challenge, observing that he acted
very wisely in leaving the girls to their own
trifling amusements. Mrs. Bennet and her daugh-
ters apologized most civilly for Lydia' s interrup*
/
104 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
tion, and promised that it should not occur again,
if he would resume his book; but Mr. Collins,
after assuring them that he bore his young cousin
no ill-will, and should never resent her behavior
as any affront, seated himself at another table with
Mr. Bennet, and prepared for backgammon.
CHAPTER XV.
Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, and the de-
ficiency of nature had been but little assisted by-
education or society, the greatest part of his life
having been spent under the guidance of an illiter-
ate and miserly father; and though he belonged
to one of the universities, he had merely kept the
necessary terms without forming at it any useful
acquaintance. The subjection in which his father
had brought him up had given him originally
great humility of manner; but it was now a good
deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak
head, living in retirement, and the consequential
feelings of early and unexpected prosperity. A
fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady
Catherine de Bourgh when the living of Hunsford
was vacant; and the respect which he felt for her
high rank, and his veneration for her as his pa-
troness, mingling with a very good opinion of
himself, of his authority as a clergyman, and his
right as a rector, made him altogether a mixture
of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and
humility.
Having now a good house and a very sufficient
income, he intended to marry; and in seeking a
106 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had
a wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the
daughters, if he found them as handsome and
amiable as they were represented by common re-
port. This was his plan of amends — of atone-
ment— for inheriting their father's estate; and
he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility
and suitableness, and excessively generous and dis-
interested on his own part.
His plan did not vary on seeing them. Miss
Bennet's lovely face confirmed his views, and es-
tablished all his strictest notions of what was due
to seniority; and for the first evening she was his
settled choice. The next morning, however, made
an alteration; for in a quarter of an hour's tete-a-tete
with Mrs. Bennet before breakfast, a conversation
beginning with his parsonage-house, and leading
naturally to the avowal at his hopes that a mis-
tress for it might be found at Longbourn, pro-
duced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and
general encouragement, a caution against the very
Jane he had fixed on.' "As to her younger
daughters, she coulcl not take upon her to say, —
she could not positivelj^answer, — but she did not
know of any prepossession; her eldest daughter
she must just 'mention — she felt it incumbent
on her to hint — was likely to be very soon
engaged."
Mr. Collins had only to change from Jan3 to
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 107
El izabeth ; and it was soon done, — done while
Mrs. Bennet was stirring the fire. Elizabeth>
equally next to Jane in birth and beauty, sue
ceeded her of course.
Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted
that she might soon have two daughters married;
and the man whom she could not bear to speak of
the day before was now high in her good graces.
Lydia's intention of walking to Meryton was not
forgotten. Every sister except Mary agreed to go
with her; and Mr. Collins was to attend them, at
the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most anxious
to get rid of him and have his library to himself;
for thither Mr. Collins had followed him after
breakfast, and there he would continue, nominally
engaged with one of the largest folios in the col-
lection, but really talking to Mr. Bennet, with
little cessation, of his house and garden at Huns-
ford. Such doings discomposed Mr. Bennet ex-
ceedingly../ In his library he had been always
sure of leisure and tranquillity; and though pre-
pared, as he told Elizabeth, to meet with folly
and conceit in every other room in the house, he
was used to be free from them there/ his civility,
therefore, was most prompt in inviting Mr. Collins
to join his daughters in their walk ; and Mr. Col-
lins, being in fact much better fitted for a walker
than a reader, was extremely well pleased to close
his large book and go.
,
108 PKIDE AND PREJUDICE.
In pompous nothings on his side, and civil as-
sents on that of his cousins, their time passed till
they entered Meryton. The attention of the
younger ones was then no longer to be gained bj'
him. Their eyes were immediately wandering up
in the street in quest of the officers ; and nothing
less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really
new muslin in a shop window could recall them.
But the attention of every lady was soon caught
by a young man, whom they had never seen before,
of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking with
an officer on the other side of the way. The officer
was the very Mr. Denny concerning whose return
from London Lydia came to inquire ; and he bowed
as they passed. All were struck with the stranger's
air, all wondered who he could be ; and Kitty and
Lydia, determined if possible to find out, led the
way across the street, under pretence of wanting
something in an opposite shop, and fortunately
had just gained the pavement, when the two gen-
tlemen, turning back, had reached the same spot.
Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated
permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham,
who had returned with him the day before from
town, and, he was happy to say, had accepted a
commission in their corps. This was exactly as
it should be ; for the young man wanted only regi-
mentals to make him completely charming. His
appearance was greatly in his favor: he had all
M
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 109
the best parts of beauty, a fine countenance, a good
figure, and very pleasing address. The introduc-
tion was followed up on his side by a happy readi-
ness of conversation, — a readiness at the same
time perfectly correct and unassuming; and the
whole party were still standing and talking to-
gether very agreeably, when the sound of horses
drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were
seen riding down the street. On distinguishing
the ladies of the group the two gentlemen came
directly towards them, and began the usual civili-
ties. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and
Miss Bennet the principal object. He was then,
he said, on his way to Longbourn on purpose to
inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with
a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix
his eyes on Elizabeth, when they were suddenly
arrested by the sight of the stranger; and Eliza-
beth, happening to see the countenance of both as
they looked at each other, was all astonishment at
the effect of the meeting. Both changed color; one
looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a
few moments, touched his hat, — a salutation which
Mr. Darcy just deigned to return. What could be
the meaning of it? It was impossible to imagine;
it was impossible not to long to know.
In another minute Mr. Bingley, but without
seeming to have noticed what passed, took leave
and rode on with his friend.
110 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the
young ladies to the door of Mr. Philips' s house,
and then made their bows, in spite of Miss
Lydia's pressing entreaties that they would come
in, and even in spite of Mrs. Philips's throwing
up the parlor window, and loudly seconding the
invitation .
Mrs. Philips was always glad to see her nieces;
and the two eldest, from their recent absence, were
particularly welcome; and she was eagerly ex-
pressing her surprise at their sudden return home,
which, as their own carriage had not fetched them,
she should have known nothing about, if she had
not happened to see Mr. Jones's shop-boy in the
street, who had told her that they were not to send
any more draughts to Netherfield, because the Miss
Bennets were come away, when her civility was
claimed towards Mr. Collins by Jane's introduc-
tion of him. She received him with her very best
politeness, which he returned with as much more,
apologizing for his intrusion without any previous
acquaintance with her, which he could not help
nattering himself, however, might be justified by
his relationship to the young ladies who intro-
duced him to her notice. Mrs. Philips was quite
awed by such an excess of good breeding; but her
contemplation of one stranger was soon put an end
to by exclamations and inquiries about the other,
of whom, however, she could only tell her nieces
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. Ill
what they already knew, that Mr. Denny had
brought him from London, and that he was to
have a lieutenant's commission in the shire.
She had been watching him the last hour, she said,
as he walked up and down the street, and had Mr.
Wickham appeared, Kitty and Lydia would cer-
tainly have continued the occupation; but un-
luckily no one passed the windows now except
a few of the officers, who, in comparison with the
stranger, were become ' ' stupid, disagreeable fel-
lows." Some of them were to dine with the
Philipses the next day, and their aunt promised
to make her husband call on Mr. Wickham, and
give him an invitation also, if the family from
Longbourn would come in the eveniug. This was
agreed to; and Mrs. Philips protested that they
would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lot-
tery tickets, and a little bit of hot supper after-
wards. The prospect of such delights was very
cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits.
Mr. Collins repeated his apologies in quitting the
room, and was assured, with unwearying civility,
that they were perfectly needless.
As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane
what she had seen pass between the two gentle-
men; but though Jane would have defended either
or both, had they appeared to be wrong, she could
no more explain such behavior than her sister.
Mr. Collins on his return highly gratified Mrs.
112 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
Eennet by admiring Mrs. Philips's manners and
politeness. He protested that, except Lady Cath-
erine and her daughter, he had never seen a more
elegant woman; for she had not only received him
with the utmost civility, hut had even pointedly
included him in her invitation for the next even-
ing, although utterly unknown to her before.
Something, he supposed, might be attributed to
his connection with them, but yet he had never
met with so much attention in the whole course of
his life.
/
CHAPTER XVI.
As no objection was made to the young people's
engagement with their aunt, and all Mr. Collins's
scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for a
single evening during his visit were most steadily
resisted, the coach conveyed him and his five
cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton; and the
girls had the pleasure of hearing, as they entered
the drawing-room, that Mr. Wickham had accepted
their uncle's invitation, and was then in the
house.
When this information was given, and they had
all taken their seats, Mr. Collins was at leisure to
look around him and admire ; and he was so much
struck with the size and furniture of the apart-
ment, that he declared he might almost have sup-
posed himself in the small summer breakfast-parlor
at Rosings, — a comparison that did not at first con-
vey much gratification: but when Mrs. Philips
understood from him what Rosings was, and who
was its proprietor; when she had listened to the
description of only one of Lady Catherine's draw-
ing-rooms, and found that the chimney-piece alone
had cost eight hundred pounds, — she felt all the
vol. i. — 8
114 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
force of the compliment, and would hardly have
resented a comparison with the housekeeper's
room.
In describing to her all the grandeur of Lady
Catherine and her mansion, with occasional digres-
sions in praise of his own humble abode, and the
improvements it was receiving, he was happily
employed until the gentlemen joined them; and
he found in Mrs. Philips a very attentive listener,
whose opinion of his consequence increased with
what she heard, and who was resolving to retail it
all among her neighbors as soon as she could. To
the girls, who could not listen to their cousin, and
who had nothing to do but to wish for an instru*
ment, and examine their own indifferent imita-
tions of china on the mantelpiece, the interval of
waiting appeared very long. It was over at last,
however. The gentlemen did approach ; and when
Mr. Wickham walked into the room, Elizabeth
felt that she had neither been seeing him before,
nor thinking of him since, with the smallest de-
gree of unreasonable admiration. The officers of
the shire were in general a very creditable,
gentlemanlike set, and the best of them were of
the present party j but Mr. Wickham was as far
beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and
walk, as they were superior to the broad-faced
stuffy uncle Philips, breathing port wine, who
followed them into the room.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 115
Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom
almost every female eye was turned, and Elizabeth
was the happy woman by whom he finally seated
himself; and the agreeable manner in which he
immediately fell in conversation, though it was
only on its being a wet night and on the probabil-
ity of a rainy season, made her feel that the com-
monest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be
rendered interesting by the skill of the speaker.
With such rivals for the notice of the fair as
Mr. Wickham and the officers, Mr. Collins seemed
to sink into insignificance ; to the young ladies he
certainly was nothing; but he had still at inter-
vals a kind listener in Mrs. Philips, and was by
her watchfulness most abundantly supplied with
coffee and muffin.
When the card-tables were placed, he had an
opportunity of obliging her, in return, by sitting
down to whist.
"I know little of the game at present,' ' said
he, N but I shall be glad to improve myself; for in
my situation of life — " Mrs. Philips was very
thankful for his compliance, but could not wait for
his reason.
Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and with
ready delight was he received at the other table
between Elizabeth and Lydia. At first there
seemed danger of Lydia's engrossing him entirely,
for she was a most determined talker; but being
116 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
likewise extremely fond of lottery tickets, she soon
grew too much interested in the game, too eager
in making bets and exclaiming after prizes, to
have attention for any one in particular. Allow-
ing for the common demands of the game, Mr.
Wickham was therefore at leisure to talk to Eliza-
beth ; and she was very willing to hear him, though
what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope
to be told, — the history of his acquaintance with
Mr. Darcy. She dared not even mention that
gentleman. Her curiosity, however, was unex-
pectedly relieved. Mr. Wickham began the sub-
ject himself. He inquired how far Netherfield
was from Meryton; and after receiving her an-
swer, asked in a hesitating manner how long Mr.
Darcy had been staying there.
" About a month,' l said Elizabeth; and then,
unwilling to let the subject drop, added, "He is
a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I
understand."
" Yes," replied Wickham; " his estate there is
a noble one. A clear ten thousand per annum.
You could not have met with a person more capa-
ble of giving you certain information on that head
than myself, — for I have been connected with his
family, in a particular manner, from my infancy."
Elizabeth could not but look surprised.
"You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at
each an assertion, after seeing, as you probably
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 117
might, the very cold manner of our meeting
yesterday. Are you much acquainted with Mr.
Darcy?"
"As much as I ever wish to be," cried Eliza-
beth, warmly. "I have spent four days in the
same house with him, and I think him very
disagreeable."
"I have no right to give my opinion," said
Wickham, "as to his being agreeable or otherwise.
I am not qualified to form one. I have known
him too long and too well to be a fair judge. It
is impossible for me to be impartial. But I be-
lieve your opinion of him would in general aston-
ish — and, perhaps, you would not express it quite
so strongly anywhere else. Here you are in your
own family."
" Upon my word I say no more here than I
might say in any house in the neighborhood,
except Netherfield. He is not at all liked in
Hertfordshire. Everybody is disgusted with his
pride. You will not find him more favorably
spoken of by any one."
"I cannot pretend to be sorry," said Wickham,
after a short interruption, "that he or that any
man should not be estimated beyond their deserts ;
but with him I believe it does not often happen.
The world is blinded by his fortune and conse-
quence, or frightened by his high and imposing
manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be
118 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
" I should take him, even on my slight acquaint-
ance, to be an ill-tempered man." Wickham only
shook his head.
"I wonder," said he, at the next opportunity
of speaking, i ' whether he is likely to be in this
country much longer.' *
"I do not at all know; but I heard nothing of
his going away when I was at Netherfield. I
hope your plans in favor of the shire will
not be affected by his being in the neighbor-
hood.",/
" Oh, no, — it is not for me to be driven away by
Mr. Darcy. If he wishes to avoid seeing me, he
must go. We are not on friendly terms, and it
always gives me pain to meet him; but I have no
reason for avoiding him but what I might pro-
claim to all the world, — a sense of very great ill
usage, and most painful regrets at his being what
he is. His father, Miss Bennet, the . late Mr.
Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed,
and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never
be in company with this Mr. Darcy without being
grieved to the soul by a thousand tender recollec-
tions. His behavior to myself has been scanda-
lous; but I verily believe I could forgive him
anything and everything, rather than his disap-
pointing the hopes and disgracing the memory
of his father."
Elizabeth found the interest of the subject in-
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 119
crease, and listened with all her heart; but the
delicacy of it prevented further inquiry.
Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general
topics, — Meryton, the neighborhood, the society,
— appearing highly pleased with all that he had
yet seen, and speaking of the latter, especially,
with gentle but very intelligible gallantry.
"It was the prospect of constant society, and
good society," he added, "which was my chief
inducement to enter the shire. I know it
to be a most respectable, agreeable corps ; and my
friend Denny tempted me further by his account
of their present quarters, and the very great atten-
tions and excellent acquaintance Meryton had pro-
cured them. Society, I own, is necessary to me.
I have been a disappointed man, and my spirits
will not bear solitude. I must have employment
and society. A military life is not what I was
intended for, but circumstances have now made it
eligible. The church ought to have been my pro-
fession, — I was brought up for the church ; and I
should at this time have been in possession of a
most valuable living, had it pleased the gentle-
man we were speaking of just now."
"Indeed!"
" Yes, — the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the
next presentation of the best living in his gift.
He was my godfather, and excessively attached to
me. I cannot do justice to his kindness. He
120 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
meant to provide for me amply, and thought he
had done it; but when the living fell, it was given
elsewhere.' }
" Good heavens!" cried Elizabeth; "but how
could that be? How could his will be disre-
garded? Why did not you seek legal redress? "
"There was just such an informality in the
terms of the bequest as to give me no hope from
law. A man of honor could not have doubted the
intention ; but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it, or to
treat it as a merely conditional recommendation,
and to assert that I had forfeited all claim to it
by extravagance, imprudence, in short, anything
or nothing. Certain it is that the living became
vacant two years ago, exactly as I was of an age
to hold it, and that it was given to another man;
and no less certain is it, that I cannot accuse my-
self of having really done anything to deserve to
lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I
may perhaps have sometimes spoken my opinion of
him and to him too freely. I can recall nothing
worse. But the fact is, that we are very different
sort of men, and that he hates me."
"This is quite shocking ! He deserves to be
publicly disgraced."
"Some time or other he will be; but it shall
not be by me. Till I can forget his father, I can
never defy or expose him."
Elizabeth honored him for such feelings, and
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 121
th'ught him handsomer than ever as he expressed
thim.
1 But what," said she, after a pause, "can
ha^e been his motive? what can have induced him
to bhave so cruelly? "
"A. thorough, determined dislike of me, — a dis-
like-vhich I cannot but attribute in some measure
to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me
less, 'his son might have borne with me better;
but Jib father's uncommon attachment to me irri-
tated im, I believe, very early in life. He had
not a emper to bear the sort of competition in
wh'Vi we stood, — the sort of preference which
was often given me."
"J had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this, —
though I have never liked him, I had not thought '
so very ill of him, — I had supposed him to be
despising his fellow-creatures in general, but did
not suspect him of descending to such malicious
revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as
this!"
After a few minutes' reflection, however, she
continued: "I do remember his boasting one day,
at Netherfield, of the implacability of his resent-
ments, of his having an unforgiving temper. His
disposition must be dreadful."
"I will not trust myself on the subject," re-
plied Wickham; "I can hardly be just to him."
Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after
122 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
a time exclaimed: "To treat in such a manneivhe
godson, the friend, the favorite of his fathe ! "
She could have added: "A young man, too, ike
you, whose very countenance may vouch for our
being amiable. " But she contented herself vith:
"And one, too, who had probably been his own
companion from childhood, connected togeth r, as
I think you said, in the closest manner."
"We were born in the same parish, with n the
same park; the greatest part of our youth, was
passed together : inmates of the same hous,*, shar-
ing the same amusements, objects of t\e same
parental care. My father began life in 01$ pro-
fession which your uncle, Mr. Philips, appear.\o
do so much credit to; but he gave up everything to
be of use to the late Mr. Darcy, and devoted all
his time to the care of the Pemberley property.
He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a
most intimate, confidential friend. Mr. Darcy
often acknowledged himself to be under the
greatest obligations to my father's active super-
intendence; and when, immediately before my
father's death, Mr. Darcy gave him a voluntary
promise of providing for me, I am convinced that
he felt it to be as much a debt of gratitude to him
as of affection to myself."
"How strange!" cried Elizabeth. ''How
abominable! I wonder that the very pride of this
Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you. If from
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 123
no better motive, that he should not have been
too proud to be dishonest, — for dishonesty I must
call it."
" It is wonderful," replied Wickham; " for al-
most all his actions may be traced to pride ; and
pride has often been his best friend. It has con-
nected him nearer with virtue than any other feel-
ing. But we are none of us consistent; and in his
behavior to me there were stronger impulses even
than pride."
"Can such abominable pride as his have ever
done him good? "
"Yes; it has often led him to be liberal and
generous; to give his money freely, to display
hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the
poor. Family pride and filial pride, for he is
very proud of what his father was, have done this.
Not to appear to disgrace his family, to degenerate
from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of
the Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. He
has also brotherly pride, which, with some
brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and
careful guardian of his sister; and you will hear
him generally cried up as the most attentive and
best of brothers."
" What sort of a r irl is Miss Darcy? "
He shook his head. " I wish I could call her
amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of a
Darcy; but she is too much like her brother, —
124 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
very, very proud. As a child, she was affectionate
and pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I
have devoted hours and hours to her amusement.
But she is nothing to me now. She is a handsome
girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and, I understand,
highly accomplished. Since her father's death
her home has been London, where a lady lives
with her, and superintends her education."
After many pauses and many trials of other
subjects, Elizabeth could not help reverting once
more to the first, and saying, —
"I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr.
Bingley. How can Mr. Bingley, who seems good-
humor itself, and is, I really believe, truly ami-
able, be in friendship with such a man? How can
they suit each other? Do you know Mr. Bingley? "
"Not at all."
"He is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charming
man. He cannot know what Mr. Darcy is."
"Probably not; but Mr. Darcy can please
where he chooses. He does not want abilities.
He can be a conversable companion if he thinks it
worth his while. Among those who are at all his
equals in consequence, he is a very different man
from what he is to the less prosperous. His pride
never deserts him; but with the rich he is liberal-
minded, just, sincere, rational, honorable, and,
perhaps, agreeable, — allowing something for for-
tune and figure."
PBIDE AND PREJUDICE. 125
The whist-party soon afterwards breaking up,
the players gathered round the other table, and
Mr. Collins took his station between his cousin
Elizabeth and Mrs. Philips. The usual inquiries
as to his success were made by the latter. It had
not been very great; he had lost every point: but
when Mrs. Philips began to express her concern
thereupon, he assured her, with much earnest
gravity, that it was not of the least importance;
that he considered the money as a mere trifle, and
begged she would not make herself uneasy.
"I know very well, madam," said he, "that
when persons sit down to a card-table they must
take their chance of these things, — and happily I
am not in such circumstances as to make five shil-
lings any object. There are, undoubtedly, many
who could not say the same; but, thanks to Lady
Catherine de Bourgh, I am removed far beyond
the necessity of regarding little matters."
Mr. Wickham's attention was caught; and after
observing Mr. Collins for a few moments, he asked
Elizabeth in a low voice whether her relations
were very intimately acquainted with the family
of De Bourgh.
"Lady Catherine de Bourgh," she replied,
"has very lately given him a living. I hardly
know how Mr. Collins was first introduced to her
notice, but he certainly has not known her long."
"You know of course that Lady Catherine de
126 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy were sisters; con-
sequently that she is aunt to the present Mr.
Darcy."
"No, indeed, I did not. I knew nothing at all
of Lady Catherine's connections. I never heard
of her existence till the day before yesterday."
"Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a
very large fortune, and it is believed that she and
her cousin will unite the two estates."
This information made Elizabeth smile, as she
thought of poor Miss Bingley. Vain indeed must
be all her attentions, vain and useless her affection
for his sister and her praise of himself, if he were
already self-destined to another.
"Mr. Collins," said she, ."speaks highly both
of Lady Catherine and her daughter; but, from
some particulars that he has related of her Lady-
ship, I suspect his gratitude misleads him, and
that, in spite of her being his patroness, she is an
i aj^ogant, conceited woman."
"I believe her to be both in a great degree,"
replied Wickham. " I have not seen her for many
years; but I very well remember that I never
liked her, and that her manners were dictatorial
and insolent. She has the reputation of being
remarkably sensible and clever; but I rather be-
lieve she derives part of her abilities from her
rank and fortune, part from her authoritative man-
ner, and the rest from the pride of her nephew,
V,
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 127
who chooses that every one connected with him
should have an understanding of the first class."
Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very na-
tional account of it, and they continued talking
together with mutual satisfaction till supper put
an end to cards, and gave the rest of the ladies
their share of Mr. Wickham's attentions. There
could he no conversation in the noise of Mrs.
Philips's supper-party, but his manners recom-
mended him to everybody. Whatever he said,
was said well ; and whatever he did, done grace-
fully. Elizabeth went away with her head full of
him. She could think of nothing but of Mr.
Wickham, and of what he had told her, all the
way home ; but there was not time for her even to
mention his name as they went, for neither Lydia
nor Mr. Collins was once silent. Lydia talked
incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had
lost and the fish she had won ; and Mr. Collins, in
describing the civility of Mr. and Mrs. Philips,
protesting that he did not in the least regard his
losses at whist, enumerating all the dishes at sup-
per, and repeatedly fearing that he crowded his
cousins, had more to say than he could well man-
age before the carriage stopped at Longbourn
House.
CHAPTER XVII.
Elizabeth related to Jane, the next day, what
had passed between Mr. Wickham and herself.
Jane listened with astonishment and concern : she
knew not how to believe that Mr. Darcy could be
so unworthy of Mr. Bingley's regard; and yet it
was not in her nature to question the veracity of a
young man of such amiable appearance as Wickham.
The possibility of his having really ensured such
unkindness was enough to interest all her tender
feelings; and nothing therefore remained to be
done but to think well of them both, to defend the
conduct of each, and throw into the account of
accident or mistake whatever could not be other-
wise explained.
"They have both," said she, "been deceived,
I dare say, in some way or other, of which we can
form no idea. Interested people have perhaps
misrepresented each to the other. It is, in short,
impossible for us to conjecture the causes or cir-
cumstances which may have alienated them, with-
out actual blame on either side."
"Very true, indeed; and now, nry dear Jane,
what have you got to say in behalf of the in
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 129
terested people who have probably been concerned
in the business? Do clear them, too, or we shall
be obliged to think ill of somebody."
"Laugh as much as you choose, but you will
not laugh me out of my opinion. My dearest
Lizzy, do but consider in what a disgraceful light
it places Mr. Darcy, to be treating- his father's
favorite in such a manner, — one whom his father
had promised to provide for. It is impossible.
No man of common humanity, no man who had
any value for his character, could be capable of it.
Can his most intimate friends be so excessively
deceived in him? Oh, no! "
" I can much more easily believe Mr. Bingley's
being imposed on than that Mr. Wickham should
invent such a history of himself as he gave me
last night; names, facts, everything mentioned
without ceremony. If it be not so, let Mr. Darcy
contradict it. Besides, there was truth in his
looks."
" It is difficult, indeed, — it is distressing. One
does not know what to think."
"I beg your pardon; one knows exactly what
to think."
But Jane could think with certainty on only
one point, — that Mr. Bingley, if he had been im-
posed on, would have much to suffer when the
affair became public.
The two young ladies were summoned from the
VOL. i. — 9
130 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
shrubbery, where this conversation passed, by the
arrival of some of the very persons of whom they
had been speaking; Mr. Bingley and his sisters
came to give their personal invitation for the long
expected ball at Netherfield, which was fixed for
the following Tuesday. The two ladies were de-
lighted to see their dear friend again, called it an
age since they had met, and repeatedly asked what
she had been doing with herself since their separa-
tion. To the rest of the family they paid little
attention; avoiding Mrs. Bennet as much as pos-
sible, saying not much to Elizabeth, and nothing
at all to the others. They were soon gone again,
rising from their seats with an activity which took
their brother by surprise, and hurrying off as if
eager to escape from Mrs. Bennet's civilities.
The prospect of the Netherfield ball was ex-
tremely agreeable to every female of the family.
Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as given in com-
pliment to her eldest daughter, and was particu-
larly flattered by receiving the invitation from
Mr. Bingley himself, instead of a ceremonious
card. Jane pictured to herself a happy evening
in the society of her two friends, and the atten-
tions of their brother; and Elizabeth thought with
pleasure of dancing a great deal with Mr. Wick-
ham, and of seeing a confirmation of everything ic
Mr. Darcy's look and behavior. The happiness
anticipated by Catherine and Lydia depended lest
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 131
:m any single event or any particular person; for
though they each, like Elizabeth meant to dance
half the evening with Mr. Wickham, he was by
no means the only partner who could satisfy them,
and a ball was, at any rate, a ball. And even
Mary could assure her family that she had no
disinclination for it.
" While I can have my mornings to myself,"
said she, "it is enough. I think it is no sacrifice
to join occasionally in evening engagements. So-
ciety has claims on us all; and I profess myself
one of those who consider intervals of recreation
and amusement as desirable for everybody."
Elizabeth's spirits were so high on the occasion,
that though she did not often speak unnecessarily
to Mr. Collins, she could not help asking him
whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley's invi-
tation, and if he did, whether he would think it
proper to join in the evening's amusement; and
she was rather surprised to find that he entertained
no scruple whatever on that head, and was very far
from dreading a rebuke, either from the Arch-
bishop or Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by venturing
to dance.
"I am by no means of opinion, I assure you,"
said he, "that a ball of this kind, given by a
young man of character to respectable people, can
have any evil tendency; and I am so far from ob-
jecting to dancing myself, that I shall hope to be
132 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
honored with the hands of all my fair cousins in
the course of the evening; and I take this oppor-
tunity of soliciting yours, Miss Elizabeth, for the
two first dances especially, — a preference which I
trust my cousin Jane will attribute to the right
cause, and not to any disrespect for her."
Elizabeth felt herself completely taken in. She
had fully proposed being engaged by Wickham for
those very dances; and to have Mr. Collins in-
stead!— her liveliness had been never worse
timed. There was no help for it, however. Mr.
Wickham's happiness and her own were perforce
delayed a little longer, and Mr. Collins's proposal
accepted with as good a grace as she could. She
was not the better pleased with his gallantry, from
the idea it suggested of something more. It now
first struck her that she was selected from among
i her sisters as worthy of being the mistress of
; Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a
"quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more
eligible visitors. The idea soon reached to con-
viction, as she observed his increasing civilities
towards herself, and heard his frequent attempt at
a compliment on her wit and vivacity; and though
more astonished than gratified herself by this ef-
fect of her charms, it was not long before her
mother gave her to understand that the probability
of their marriage was exceedingly agreeable to her.
Elizabeth, however, did not choose to take the
I
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 133
hint, being well aware that a serious dispute must
be the consequence of any reply. Mr. Collins
might never make the offer, and, till he did, it
was useless to quarrel about him.
If there had not been a Netherfield ball to pre-
pare for and talk of, the younger Miss Bennets
would have been in a pitiable state at this time;
for from the day of the invitation to the day of the
ball there was such a succession of rain as pre-
vented their walking to Meryton once. No aunt,
no officers, no news could be sought after; the very
shoe-roses for Netherfield were got by proxy.
Even Elizabeth might have found some trial of
her patience in weather which totally suspended
the improvement of her acquaintance with Mr.
Wickham; and nothing less than a dance on Tues-
day could have made such a Friday, Saturday,
Sunday, and Monday endurable to Kitty and
Lydia.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Till Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Neth-
erneld, and looked in vain for Mr. Wickham
among the cluster of red coats there assembled, a
doubt of his being present had never occurred to
her. The certainty of meeting him had not been
checked by any of those recollections that might
not unreasonably have alarmed her. She had
dressed with more than usual care, and prepared
in the highest spirits for the conquest of all that
remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it
was not more than might be won in the course of
the evening. But in an instant arose the dreadful
suspicion of his being purposely omitted, for Mr.
Darcy's pleasure, in the Bingleys' invitation to
the officers; and though this was not exactly the
case, the absolute fact of his absence was pro-
nounced by his friend Mr. Denny, to whom Lydia
eagerly applied, and who told them that Wickham
had been obliged to go to town on business the day
before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a
significant smile, —
"I do not imagine his business would have
called him away just now, if he had not wished
to avoid a certain gentleman here."
PKIDE AND PREJUDICE. 135
This part of his intelligence, though unheard
6y Lydia, was caught by Elizabeth ; and as it as-
sured her that Darcy was not less answerable for
Wickham's absence than if her first surmise had
been just, every feeling of displeasure against the
former was so sharpened by immediate disappoint-
ment, that she could hardly reply with tolerable
civility to the polite inquiries which he directly
afterwards approached to make. Attention, for-
bearance, patience with Darcy, were injury to
Wickham. She was resolved against any sort of
conversation with him, and turned away with a
degree of ill-humor which she could not wholly
surmount even in speaking to Mr.'Bingley, whose
blind partiality provoked her.
But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humor j
and though every prospect of her own was de-
stroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long
on her spirits; and having told all her griefs to
Charlotte Lucas, whom she had not seen for a
week, she was soon able to make a voluntary
transition to the oddities of her cousin, and to
point him out to her particular notice. The two
first dances, however, brought a return of distress :
they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins,
awkward and solemn, apologizing instead of at-
tending, and often moving wrong without being
aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery
which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances
136 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
can give. The moment of her release from him
was ecstasy.
She danced next with an officer, and had the re-
freshment of talking of Wickham, and of hearing
that he was universally liked. When those dances
were over, she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and
was in conversation with her, when she found her-
self suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy, who took
her so much by surprise in his application for her
hand, that, without knowing what she did, she ac-
cepted him. He walked away again immediately,
and she was left to fret over her own want of pres-
ence of mind. Charlotte tried to console her.
"I dare say you will find him very agreeable.' '
" Heaven forbid! That would be the greatest
misfortune of all ! To find a man agreeable whom
one is determined to hate ! Do not wish me such
an evil."
When the dancing recommenced, however, and
Darcy approached to claim her hand, Charlotte
could not help cautioning her, in a whisper, not to
be a simpleton, and allow her fancy for Wickham
to make her appear unpleasant in the eyes of a
man of ten times his consequence. Elizabeth
made no answer, and took her place in the set,
amazed at the dignity to which she was arrived in
being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and
reading in her neighbors' looks their equal amaze-
ment in beholding it. They stood for some time
PRIDE AND PREJJDICE. 137
without speaking a word; and she began to ima-
gine that their silence was to list through the two
dances, and at first was resolved not to break it;
till suddenly fancying that it would be the greater
punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk,
she made some slight observation on the dance.
He replied, and was again silent. After a pause
of some minutes, she addressed him a second time,
with, -
"It is your turn to say something now, Mr.
Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought
to make some kind of remark on the size of the
room or the number of couples."
He smiled, and assured her that whatever she
wished him to say should be said.
"Very well; that reply will do for the present.
Perhaps, by and by, I may observe that private
balls are much pleasanter than public ones; but
now we may be silent."
" Do you talk by rule, then, while you are
dancing? "
" Sometimes. One must speak a little, you
know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for
half an hour together; and yet, for the advantage
of some, conversation ought to be so arranged as
that they may have the trouble of saying as little
as possible."
"Are you consulting your own feelings in the
present case, or do you imagine that you are grati-
fying mine?"
138 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
"Both," replied Elizabeth, archly; " for I have
always seen a great' similarity in the turn of our
minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn
disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect
to say something that will amaze the whole room,
and be handed down to posterity with all the
eclat of a proverb."
" This is no* very striking resemblance of your
own character, I am sure," said he. " How near
it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. You
think it a faithful portrait, undoubtedly."
" I must not decide on my own performance."
He made no answer, and they were again silent
till they had gone down the dance, when he asked
her if she and her sisters did not very often walk
to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative ; and
unable to resist the temptation, added, "When
you met us there the other day, we had just been
forming a new acquaintance."
The effect was immediate. A deeper shade
of hauteur overspread his features, but he said
not a word; and Elizabeth, though blaming her-
self for her own weakness, could not go on. At
length Darcy spoke, and in_a constrained manner
said, —
"Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy man-
ners as may insure his making friends; whether
he may be equally capable of retaining them, is
less certain."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 139
"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friend-
ship," replied Elizabeth with emphasis, "and in
a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his
life." »
Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of
changing the subject. At that moment Sir Wil-
liam Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to
pass through the set to the other side of the room;
but on perceiving Mr. Darcy, he stopped, with a
bow of superior courtesy, to compliment him on
his dancing and his partner.
"I have been most highly gratified, indeed, my
dear sir; such very superior dancing is not often
seen. It is evident that you belong to the first
circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair
partner does not disgrace you; and that I must
hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially
when a certain desirable event, my dear Miss
Eliza " (glancing at her sister and Bingley),
1 ' shall take place. What congratulations will then
flow in ! I appeal to Mr. Darcy ; — but let me
not interrupt you, sir. You will not thank me for
detaining you from the bewitching converse of that
young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding
me."
The latter part of this address was scarcely
heard by Darcy; but Sir William's allusion to his
friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and his eyes
were directed, with a very serious expression,
140 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
towards Bingley and Jane, who were dancing to-
gether. Recovering himself, however, shortly, he
turned to his partner, and said, —
" Sir William's interruption has made me forget
what we were talking of."
"I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir
William could not have interrupted any two people
in the room who had less to say for themselves.
We have tried two or three subjects already with-
out success, and what we are to talk of next I can-
not imagine.7 '
u What think you of books? M said he, smiling.
" Books, oh, no! I am sure we never read the
same, or not with the same feelings."
"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the
case, there can at least be no want of subject. We
may compare our different opinions."
"No, I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my
head is always full of something else."
"The present always occupies you in such
scenes, does it? " said he, with a look of doubt.
"Yes, always," she replied, without knowing
what she said ; for her thoughts had wandered far
from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared by
her suddenly exclaiming: "I remember hearing
you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever
forgave; that your resentment, once created, was
unappeasable. You are very cautious, I sup-
pose, as to its being created?"
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 141
"I am," said he, with a firm voice.
"And never allow yourself to be blinded by
prejudice?"
"I hope not."
"It is particularly incumbent on those who
never change their opinion, to be secure of judging
properly at first."
"May I ask to what these questions tend? "
" Merely to the illustration of your character,"
said she, endeavoring to shake off her gravity.
"I am trying to make it out."
" And what is your success? "
She shook her head. " I do not get on at all. I
hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me
exceedingly."
"I can readily believe," answered he, gravely,
"that reports may vary greatly with respect to
me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you
were not to sketch my character at the present
moment, as there is reason to fear that the per-
formance would reflect no credit on either."
"But if I do not take your likeness now, I
may never have another opportunity."
"I would by no means suspend any pleasure
of yours," he coldly replied. She said no more,
and they went down the other dance and parted
in silence; on each side dissatisfied, though not
to an equal degree: for in Darcy's breast there
was a tolerably powerful feeling towards her,
142 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
which soon procured her pardon, and directed all
his anger against another.
They had not long separated when Miss Bing-
ley came towards her, and, with an expression of
civil disdain, thus accosted her, —
"So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite de-
lighted with George Wickham? Your sister has
been talking to* me about him, and asking me a
thousand questions; and 1 find that the young
man forgot to tell you, among his other commu-
nications, that he was the son of old Wickham,
the late Mr. Darcy's steward. Let me recom-
mend you, however, as a friend, not to give im-
plicit confidence to all his assertions; for, as to
Mr. Darcy's using him ill, it is perfectly false:
for, on the contrary, he has been always remark-
ably kind to him, though George Wickham has
treated Mr. Darcy in a most infamous manner. I
do not know the particulars, but I know very
well that Mr. Darcy is not in the least to blame;
that he cannot bear to hear George Wickham
mentioned; and that though my brother thought
he could not well avoid including him in his in-
vitation to the officers, he was excessively glad
to find that he had taken himself out of the way.
His coming into the country at all is a most in-
solent thing, indeed, and I wonder how he could
presume to do it. I pity you, Miss Eliza, for
this discovery of your favorite's guilt; but really,
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 143
considering his descent, one could not expect
much better."
"His guilt and his descent appear, by your
account, to be the same," said Elizabeth, angrily;
"for I have heard you accuse him of nothing
worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's stew-
ard, and of that, I can assure you, he informed
me himself."
"I beg your pardon," replied Miss Bingley,
fcurning away with a sneer. "Excuse my inter-
ference; it was kindly meant."
"Insolent girl!" said Elizabeth to herself.
"You are much mistaken if you expect to in-
fluence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see
nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and
the malice of Mr. Darcy." She then sought her
eldest sister, who had undertaken to make in-
quiries on the same subject of Bingley. Jane
met her with a smile of such sweet complacency,
a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently
marked how well she was satisfied with the occur-
rences of the evening. Elizabeth instantly read
her feelings; and at that moment solicitude for
Wickham, resentment against his enemies, and
everything else gave way before the hope of
Jane's being in the fairest way for happiness.
"I want to know," said she, with a counte-
nance no less smiling than her sister's, "what
you have learned about Mr. Wickham. But per-
144 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
haps you have been too pleasantly engaged to
think of any third person, in which case you
may be sure of my pardon.' '
"No," replied Jane, "I have not forgotten
him ; but I have nothing satisfactory to tell you.
Mr. Binglej^ does not know the whole of his his-
tory, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances
which have principally offended Mr. Darcy; but
he will vouch for the good conduct, the probity
and honor, of his friend, and is perfectly con-
vinced that Mr. Wickham has deserved much less
attention from Mr. Darcy than he has received;
and I am sorry to say that by his account, as well
as his sister's, Mr. Wickham is by no means a
respectable young man. I am afraid he has been
very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr.
Darcy's regard."
"Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham
himself."
"No; he never saw him till the other morning
at Meryton."
"This account then is what he has received
from Mr. Darcy. I am perfectly satisfied. But
what does he say of the living?"
"He does not exactly recollect the circum-
stances, though he has heard them from Mr. Darcy
more than once, but he believes that it was left to
him conditionally only."
" I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity, "
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 145
said Elizabeth, warmly, "but you must excuse my
not being convinced by assurances only. Mr.
Bingley's defence of his friend was a very able
one, I dare say ; but since he is unacquainted with
several parts of the story, and has learned the rest
from that friend himself, I shall venture still to
think of both gentlemen as I did before."
She then changed the discourse to one more
gratifying to each, and on which there could be no
difference of sentiment. Elizabeth listened with
delight to the happy though modest hopes which
Jane entertained of Bingley's regard, and said all
in her power to heighten her confidence in it. On
their being joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Eliza-
beth withdrew to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry
after the pleasantness of her last partner she had
scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins came up to
them, and told her, with great exultation, that he
had just been so fortunate as to make a most
important discovery.
"I have found out," said he, "by a singular
accident, that there is now in the room a near
relation to my patroness. I happened to overhear
the gentleman himself mentioning to the young
lady who does the honors of this house the names
of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother
Lady Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of
things occur! Who would have thought of my
meeting with — perhaps — a nephew of Lady Cath<
vol. i. — 10
146 TRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
erine de Bourgh in this assembly! I am most
thankful that the discovery is made in time for
me to pay my respects to him, which I am now
going to do, and trust he will excuse my not
having done it before. My total ignorance of the
connection must plead my apology."
11 You are not going to introduce yourself to
Mr. Darcy?" -
" Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for
not having done it earlier. I believe him to be
Lady Catherine's nephew. It will be in my power
to assure him that her Ladyship was quite well
yesterday se'nnight."
Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such
a scheme; assuring him that Mr. Darcy would
consider his addressing him without introduc-
tion as an impertinent freedom, rather than a
compliment to his aunt; that it was not in the
least necessary there should be any notice on
either side, and that if it were, it must belong to
Mr. Darcy, the superior in consequence, to begin
the acquaintance. Mr. Collins listened to her
with the determined air of following his own
inclination, and when she ceased speaking, replied
thus, —
"My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest
opinion in the world of your excellent judgment
in all matters within the scope of your understand-
ing, but permit me to say that there must be r
V
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 147
wide difference between the established forms of
ceremony amongst the laity and those which regu-
late the clergy; for give me leave to observe that
I consider the clerical office as equal in point of
dignity with the highest rank in the kingdom, —
provided that a proper humility of behavior is at
the same time maintained. You must therefore
allow me to follow the dictates of my conscience
on this occasion, which leads me to perform what
I look on as a point of duty. Pardon me for
neglecting to profit by your advice, which on every
other subject shall be my constant guide, though
in the case before us I consider myself more fitted
by education and habitual study to decide on what
is right than a young lady like yourself; M and
with a low bow he left her to attack Mr. Darcy,
whose reception of his advances she eagerly
watched, and whose astonishment at being so ad-
dressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced
his speech with a solemn bow, and though she
could not hear a word of it, she felt as if hearing
it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the words
" apology," "Hunsford," and " Lady Catherine
de Bourgh." It vexed her to see him expose him-
self to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eying him
with unrestrained wonder; and when at last Mr.
Collins allowed him to speak, replied with an air
of distant civility. Mr. Collins, however, was
not discouraged from speaking again, and Mr.
148 PEIDE AND PREJUDICE.
Darcy's contempt seemed abundantly increasing
with the length of his second speech; and at the
end of it he only made him a slight bow, and
moved another way. Mr. Collins then returned
to Elizabeth.
" I have no reason, I assure you," said he, " to
be dissatisfied with my reception. Mr. Darcy
seemed much pleased with the attention. He
answered me with the utmost civility, and even
paid me the compliment of saying that he was so
well convinced of Lady Catherine's discernment as
to be certain she could never bestow a favor un-
worthily. It was really a very handsome thought.
Upon the whole, I am much pleased with him."
As Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her
own to pursue, she turned her attention almost
entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley; and the
train of agreeable reflections which her observa-
tions gave birth to made her perhaps almost as
happy as Jane. She saw her in idea settled in
that very house, in all the felicity which a mar-
riage of true affection could bestow; and she felt
capable, under such circumstances, of endeavoring
even to like Bingley's two sisters. Her mother's
thoughts she plainly saw were bent the same way,
and she determined not to venture near her, lest
she might hear too much. When they sat down
to supper, therefore, she considered it a most un-
lucky perverseness which placed them within one of
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 149
each other; and deeply was she vexed to find that
her mother was talking to that one person (Lady
Lucas) freely, openly, and of nothing else but of
her expectation that Jane would be soon married
to Mr. Bingley. It was an animating subject,
and Mrs. Bennet seemed incapable of fatigue while
enumerating the advantages of the match. His
being such a charming young man, and so rich,
and living but three miles from them, were the
first points of self-gratulation ; and then it was such
a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of
Jane, and to be certain that they must desire the
connection as much as she could do. It was,
moreover, such a promising thing for her younger
daughters, as Jane's marrying so greatly must
throw them in the way of other rich men; and,
lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be
able to consign her single daughters to the care of
their sister, that she might not be obliged to go into
company more than she liked. It was necessary
to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure,
because on such occasions it is the etiquette; but
no one was less likely than Mrs. Bennet to find
comfort in staying at home at any period of her
life. She concluded with many good wishes that
Lady Lucas might soon be equally fortunate,
though evidently and triumphantly believing there
was no chance of it.
In vain did Elizabeth endeavor to check the
150 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
rapidity of her mother's words, or persuade her to
describe her felicity in a less audible whisper; for
to her inexpressible vexation she could perceive
that the chief of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy,
who sat opposite to them. Her mother only
scolded her for being nonsensical.
" What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should
be afraid of him? I am sure we owe him no such
particular civility as to be obliged to say nothing
he may not like to hear."
" For heaven's sake, madam, speak lower.
What advantage can it be to you to offend Mr.
Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to
his friend by so doing."
Nothing that she could say, however, had any
influence. Her mother would talk of her views in
the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed
and blushed again with shame and vexation. She
could not help frequently glancing her eye at Mr.
Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what
she dreaded ;v for though he was not always look-
ing at her mother, she was convinced that his
attention was invariably fixed by her. The ex-
pression of his face changed gradually from indig-
nant contempt to a composed and steady gravity.
At length, however, Mrs. Bennet had no more
to say; and Lady Lucas, who had been long
yawning at the repetition of delights which she
saw no likelihood of sharing, was left to the
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 151
comforts of cold ham and chicken. Elizabeth now
began to revive. But not long was the interval of
tranquillity; for when supper was over, singing
was talked of, and she had the mortification of
seeing Mary, after very little entreaty, preparing
to oblige the company. By many significant looks
and silent entreaties did she endeavor to prevent
such a proof of complaisance, but in vain : Mary
would not understand them; such an opportunity
of exhibiting was delightful to her, and she be-
gan her song. Elizabeth's eyes were fixed on her
with most painful sensations, and she watched her
progress through the several stanzas with an im-
patience which was very ill rewarded at their
close; for Mary, on receiving amongst the thanks
of the table the hint of a hope that she might be
prevailed on to favor them again, after the pause
of half a minute, began another. Mary's powers
were by no means fitted for such a display; her
voice was weak, and her manner affected. Eliza-
beth was in agonies. She looked at Jane to see
how she bore it; but Jane was very composedly
talking to Bingley. She looked at his two sisters,
and saw them making signs of derision at each
other; and at Darcy, who continued, however,
impenetrably grave. She looked at her father to
entreat his interference, lest Mary should be sing-
ing all night. He took the hint, and when Mary
had finished her second song, said aloud, ■ —
152 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
"That will do extremely well, child. You
have delighted us long enough. Let the other
young ladies have time to exhibit."
Mary, though pretending not to hear, was some-
what disconcerted; and Elizabeth, sorry for her
and sorry for her father's speech, was afraid her
anxiety had done* no good. Others of the party
were now applied to.
"If I," said Mr. Collins, "were so fortunate
as to be able to sing, I should have great pleasure,
I am sure, in obliging the company with an air;
for I consider music as a very innocent diversion,
and perfectly compatible with the profession of a
clergyman. I do not mean, however, to assert
that we can be justified in devoting too much of
our time to music, for there are certainly other
things to be attended to. The rector of a parish
has much to do. In the first place, he must make
such an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial
to himself and not offensive to his patron. He
must write his own sermons; and the time that
remains will not be too much for his parish duties,
and the care and improvement of his dwelling,
which he cannot be excused from making as com-
fortable as possible. And I do not think it of
light importance that he should have attentive and
conciliatory manners towards everybody, especially
towards those to whom he owes his preferment. 1
cannot acquit him of that duty; nor could I think
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 153
well of the man who should omit an occasion of
testifying his respect towards anybody connected
with the family." And with a bow to Mr. Darcy,
he concluded his speech, which had been spoken
so loud as to be heard by half the room. Many
stared, many smiled; but no one looked more
amused than Mr. Bennet himself, while his wife
seriously commended Mr. Collins for having spoken
so sensibly, and observed, in a half-whisper to
Lady Lucas, that he was a remarkably clever,
good kind of young man.
To Elizabeth it appeared that had her family
made an agreement to expose themselves as much
as they could during the evening, it would have
been impossible for them to play their parts with
more spirit or finer success; and happy did she
think it for Bingley and her sister that some of
the exhibition had escaped his notice, and that his
feelings were not of a sort to be much distressed
by the folly which he must have witnessed. That
his two sisters and Mr. Darcy, however, should
have such an opportunity of ridiculing her rela-
tions was bad enough; and she could not deter-
mine whether the silent contempt of the gentleman
or the insolent smiles of the ladies were more
intolerable.
The rest of the evening brought her little
amusement. She was teased by Mr. Collins, who
continued most perseveringly by her side; and
154 fa PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
though he could not prevail with her to dance
with him again, put it out of her power to dance
with others. In vain did she entreat him to stand
up with somebody else, and offered to introduce
him to any young lady in the room. He assured
her that, as to dancing, he was perfectly indiffer-
ent to it; that his chief object was, by delicate
attentions, to recommend himself to her; and that
he should therefore make a point of remaining
close to her the whole evening. There was no
arguing upon such a project. She owed her great-
est relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who often
joined them, and good-naturedly engaged Mr.
Collins's conversation to herself.
She was at least free from the offence of Mr.
Darcy's further notice; though often standing
within a very short distance of her, quite disen-
gaged, he never came near enough to speak. She
felt it to be the probable consequence of her allu-
sions to Mr. Wickham, and rejoiced in it.
The Longbourn party were the last of all the
company to depart; and by a manoeuvre of Mrs.
Bennet had to wait for their carriage a quarter of
an hour after everybody else was gone, which gave
them time to see how heartily they were wished
away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst and her
sister scarcely opened their mouths except to com-
plain of fatigue, and were evidently impatient to
have the house to themselves. They repulsed
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.' 155
every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation,
and, by so doing, threw a languor over the whole
party, which was very little relieved by the long
speeches of Mr. Collins, who was complimenting
Mr. Bingley and his sisters on the elegance of their
entertainment, and the hospitality and politeness
which had marked their behavior to their guests.
Darcy said nothing at all. Mr. Bennet, in equal
silence, was enjoying the scene. Mr. Bingley and
Jane were standing together a little detached from
the rest, and talked only to each other. Elizabeth
preserved as steady a silence as either Mrs. Hurst
or Miss Bingley; and even Lydia was too much
fatigued to utter more than the occasional excla-
mation of "Lord, how tired I am! " accompanied
by a violent yawn.
When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs.
Bennet was most pressingly civil in her hope of
seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn; and
addressed herself particularly to Mr. Bingley, to
assure him how happy he would make them by eat-
ing a family dinner with them at any time without
the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was
all grateful pleasure; and he readily engaged for
taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on her,
after his return from London, whither he was
obliged to go the next day for a short time.
Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied; and quitted
the house under the delightful persuasion that,
156 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
allowing for the necessary preparations of settle-
ments, new carriages, and wedding-clothes, she
should undoubtedly see her daughter settled at
Netherfield in the course of three or four months.
Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins
she thought with equal certainty, and with consid-
rerable, though not* equal pleasure. Elizabeth was
the least dear to her of all her children; and
though the man and the match were quite good
enough for her, the worth of each was eclipsed by
Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.
CHAPTER XIX.
The next day opened a new scene at Longbourn.
Mr. Collins made his declaration in form. Hav-
ing resolved to do it without loss of time, as his
leave of absence extended only to the following
Saturday, and having no feelings of diffidence to
make it distressing to himself even at the moment,
he set about it in a very orderly manner, with all
the observances which he supposed a regular part
of the business. On finding Mrs. Bennet, Eliza-
beth, and one of the younger girls together, soon
after breakfast, he addressed the mother in these
words, —
"May I hope, madam, for your interest with
your fair daughter Elizabeth, when I solicit for
the honor of a private audience with her in the
course of this morning? "
Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a
blush of surprise, Mrs. Bennet instantly answered :
"Oh dear! Yes, certainly. I am sure Lizzy
will be very happy, — I am sure she can have no
objection. Come, Kitty, I want you upstairs."
And gathering her work together, she was hasten-
ing away, when Elizabeth called out, —
158 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
u Dear ma'am, do not go. I beg you will not
go. Mr. Collins must excuse me. He can have
nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear.
I am going away myself."
"No, no, nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you will
stay where you are." And upon Elizabeth's
seeming really, with vexed and embarrassed looks,
about to escape, she added: " Lizzy, I insist upon
your staying and hearing Mr. Collins."
Elizabeth would not oppose such an injunction;
and a moment's consideration making her also sen-
sible that it would be wisest to get it over as soon
and as quietly as possible, she sat down again, and
tried to conceal by incessant employment the feel-
ings which were divided between distress and di-
version. Mrs. Bennet and Kitty walked off; and
as soon as they were gone, Mr. Collins began : —
" Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that
your modesty, so far from doing you any dis-
service, rather adds to your other perfections.
You would have been less amiable in my eyes had
there not been this little unwillingness; but allow
me to assure you that I have your respected
mother's permission for this address. You can
hardly doubt the purport of my discourse, however
your natural delicacy may lead you to dissemble ;
my attentions have been too marked to be mis-
taken. Almost as soon as I entered the house I
singled you out as the companion of my future
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
life. But before I am run away with by my feel-
ings on this subject, perhaps it will be advisable
for me to state my reasons for marrying — and,
moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the
design of selecting a wife, as I certainly did."
The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn
composure, being run away with by his feelings,
made Elizabeth so near laughing that she could
not use the short pause he allowed in any attempt
to stop him further; and he continued, —
" My reasons for marrying are, first, that I
think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy
circumstances (like myself) to set the example of
matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am con-
vinced it will add very greatly to my happiness;
and thirdly, which perhaps I ought to have men-
tioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and
recommendation of the very noble lady whom I
have the honor of calling patroness. Twice has
si.:? condescended to give me her opinion (unasked
too!) on this subject; and it was but the very Sat-
urday night before I left Hunsford — between our
pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was ar-
ranging Miss de Bourgh's footstool — that she
said, ' Mr. Collins, you must marry. A clergyman
like you must marry. Choose properly, — choose a
gentlewoman, for my sake and for your own; let
her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought
up high, but able to make a small income go a
160 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
good way. This is my advice. Find such a
woman as soon as you can, bring her to Hunsford,
and I will visit her.' Allow me, by the way, to
observe, my fair cousin, that I do not reckon the
notice and kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh
as among the least of the advantages in my power
to offer. You will- find her manners beyond any-
thing I can describe ; and • your wit and vivacity
I think must be acceptable to her, especially
when tempered with the silence and respect which
her rank will inevitably excite. Thus much for
my general intention in favor of matrimony; it re-
mains to be told why my views were directed to
Longbourn instead of my own neighborhood, where
I assure you there are many amiable young women.
But the fact is that, being, as I am, to inherit this
estate after the death of your honored father (who,
however, may live many years longer), I could not
satisfy myself without resolving to choose a wife
from among his daughters, that the loss to them
might be as little as possible when the melancholy
event takes place, which, however, as I have already
said, may not be for several years. This has been
my motive, my fair cousin, and I flatter myself it
will not sink me in your esteem. And now noth-
ing remains for me but to assure you in the most
animated language of the violence of my affection.
To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and shall
make no demand of that nature on your father,
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 16l
since I am well aware that it could not be com-
plied with; and that one thousand pounds in the
four per cents, which will not be yours till after
your mother's decease, is all that you may ever be
entitled to. On that head, therefore, I shall be
uniformly silent ; and you may assure yourself that
no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips
when we are married."
It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now.
"You are too hasty, sir," she cried. "You
forget that I have made no answer. Let me do it
without further loss of time. Accept my thanks
for the compliment you are paying me. I am very
sensible of the honor of your proposals, but it is im-
possible for me to do otherwise than decline them."
"I am not now to learn," replied Mr. Collins,
with a formal wave of the hand, " that it is usual
with young ladies to reject the addresses of the
man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he
first applies for their favor; and that sometimes
the refusal is repeated a second or even a third
time. I am, therefore, by no means discouraged
by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead
you to the altar erelong."
"Upon my word, sir," cried Elizabeth, "your
hope is rather an extraordinary one after my dec-
laration. I do assure you that I am not one of
those young ladies (if such young ladies there are)
who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the
vol. i. — 11
162 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
chance of being asked a second time. I am per-
fectly serious in my refusal. You could not make
me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last
woman in the world who would make you so.
Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to knew
me, I am persuaded she would find me in every re-
spect ill qualified for the situation."
" Were it certain that Lady Catherine would
think so," said Mr. Collins, very gravely, — "but
I cannot imagine that her Ladyship would at all
disapprove of you. And you may be certain that
when I have the honor of seeing her again I shall
speak in the highest terms of your modesty,
economy, and other amiable qualifications."
"Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be
unnecessary. You must give me leave to judge
for myself, and pay me the compliment of believing
what I say. I wish you very happy and very rich,
and by refusing your hand, do all in my power to
prevent your being otherwise. In making me the
offer, you must have satisfied the delicacy of your
feelings with regard to my family, and may take
possession of Longbourn estate whenever it falls,
without any self-reproach. This matter may be
considered, therefore, as finally settled." And
rising as she thus spoke, she would have quitted
the room, had not Mr. Collins thus addressed her:
"When I do myself the honor of speaking to
you next on the subject, I shall hope to receive a
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 163
more favorable answer than you have now given
me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty
at present, because I know it to be the established
custom of your sex to reject a man on the first ap-
plication, and perhaps you have even now said as
much to encourage my suit as would be consistent
with the true delicacy of the female character.' '
"Really, Mr. Collins, " cried Elizabeth, with
some warmth, "you puzzle me exceedingly. If
what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the
form of encouragement, I know not how to express
my refusal in such a way as may convince you of
its being one."
"You must give me leave to flatter myself, my
dear cousin, that your refusal of my addresses are
merely words of course. My reasons for believing
it are briefly these: It does not appear to me
that my hand is unworthy your acceptance, or that
the establishment I can offer would be any other
than highly desirable. My situation in life, my
connections with the family of De Bourgh, and
my relationship to your own are circumstances
highly in my favor; and you should take it into
further consideration, that, in spite of your mani-
fold attractions, it is by no means certain that an-
other offer of marriage may ever be made you.
Your portion is unhappily so small that it will in
all likelihood undo the effects of your loveliness
and amiable qualifications. As I must therefore
164 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
conclude that you are not serious in your rejection
of me, I shall choose to attribute it to your wish of
increasing my love by suspense, according to the
usual practice of elegant females. "
"I do assure you, sir, that I have no preten-
sions whatever to that kind of elegance which con-
sists in tormenting a respectable man. I would
rather be paid the compliment of being believed
sincere. I thank you again and again for the
honor you have done me in your proposals, but to
accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings
in every respect forbid it. Can I speak plainer?
Do not consider me now as an elegant female in-
tending to plague you, but as a rational creature
speaking the truth from her heart.' *
"You are uniformly charming! n cried he, with
an air of awkward gallantry; "and I am persuaded
that, when sanctioned by the express authority of
both your excellent parents, my proposals will not
fail of being acceptable.' '
To such perseverance in wilful self-deception
Elizabeth would make no reply, and immediately
and in silence withdrew; determined that if he
persisted in considering her repeated refusals as
flattering encouragement, to apply to her father,
whose negative might be uttered in such a manner
as must be decisive, and whose behavior at least
could not be mistaken for the affectation and
coquetry of an elegant female.
CHAPTER XX.
Mr. Collins was not left long to the silent con'
templation of his successful love ; for Mrs. Bennet,
having dawdled about in the vestibule to watch
for the end of the conference, no sooner saw Eliza-
beth open the door and with quick step pass her
towards the staircase, than she entered the break-
fast-room, and congratulated both him and herself
in warm terms on the happy prospect of their
nearer connection. Mr. Collins received and re-
turned these felicitations with equal pleasure, and
then proceeded to relate the particulars of their in-
terview, with the result of which he trusted he
had every reason to be satisfied, since the refusal
which his cousin had steadfastly given him would
naturally flow from her bashful modesty and the
genuine delicacy of her character.
This information, however, startled Mrs. Ben-
net : she would have been glad to be equally satis-
fied that her daughter had meant to encourage him
by protesting against his proposals; but she dared
not to believe it, and could not help saying so.
"But depend upon it, Mr. Collins,' ' she added,
"that Lizzy shall be brought to reason. I will
166 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
speak to her about it myself directly. She is a very
headstrong, foolish girl, and does not know her
own interest; but I will make her know it."
" Pardon me for interrupting you, madam,"
cried Mr. Collins; "but if she is really headstrong
and foolish, I know not whether she would alto-
gether be a very desirable wife to a man in my sit-
uation, who naturally looks for happiness in the
marriage state. If therefore she actually persists
in rejecting my s-uit, perhaps it were better not to
force her into accepting me, because, if liable to
such defects of temper, she could not contribute
much to my felicity."
"Sir, you quite misunderstand me," said Mrs.
Bennet, alarmed. "Lizzy is only headstrong in
such matters as these. In everything else she is
as good-natured a girl as ever lived. I will go
directly to Mr. Bennet, and we shall very soon
settle it with her, I am sure."
She would not give him time to reply, but
hurrying instantly to her husband, called out, as
she entered the library, —
"Oh, Mr. Bennet, you are wanted immediately;
we are all in an uproar. You must come and
make Lizzy marry Mr. Collins, for she vows she
will not have him; and if you do not make haste,
he will change his mind and not have her."
Mr. Bennet raised his eyes from his book as she
entered, and fixed them on her face with a calm
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 167
unconcern which was not in the least altered by
her communication.
"I have not the pleasure of understanding
you," said he, when she had finished her speech.
"Of what are you talking?"
" Of Mr. Collins and Lizzy, Lizzy declares
she will not have Mr. Collins, and Mr. Collins
begins to say that he will not have Lizzy."
"And what am I to do on the occasion? It
seems a hopeless business."
"Speak to Lizzy about it yourself. Tell her
that you insist upon her marrying him."
"Let her be called down. She shall hear my
opinion."
Mrs. Bennet rang the bell, and Miss Elizabeth
was summoned to the library.
"Come here, child," cried her father, as she
appeared. "I have sent for you on an affair of»
importance. I understand that Mr. Collins has
made you an offer of marriage. Is it true? "
Elizabeth replied that it was. "Very well, —
and this offer of marriage you have refused?"
" I have, sir."
"Very well. We now come to the point.
Your mother insists upon your accepting it. Is
it not so, Mrs. Bennet? "
"Yes, or I will never see her again."
"An unhappy alternative is before you, Eliza-
beth. From this day you must be a stranger to
168 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
one of your parents. Your mother will never see
you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I
will never see you again if you do."
Elizabeth could not but smile at such a con-
clusion of such a beginning; but Mrs. Bennet,
who had persuaded herself that her husband re-
garded the affair "as she wished, was excessively
disappointed.
" What do you mean, Mr. Bennet, by talking in
this way? You promised me to insist upon her
marrying him."
"My dear," replied her husband, "I have two
small favors to request: First, that you will
allow me the free use of my understanding on
the present occasion; and, secondly, of my room.
I shall be glad to have the library to myself as
soon as may be."
Not yet, however, in spite of her disappoint-
ment in her husband, did Mrs. Bennet give up the
point. She talked to Elizabeth again and again;
coaxed and threatened her by turns. She endeav-
ored to secure Jane in her interest; but Jane,
with all possible mildness, declined interfering;
and Elizabeth sometimes with real earnestness and
sometimes with playful gayety, replied to her at-
tacks. Though her manner varied, however, her
determination never did.
Mr. Collins, meanwhile, was meditating in soli-
tude on what had passed. He thought too well of
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 169
himself to comprehend on what motive his cousin
could refuse him; and though his pride was hurt,
he suffered in no other way. His regard for her
was quite imaginary; and the possibility of her
deserving her mother's reproach prevented his
feeling any regret.
While the family were in this confusion, Char-
lotte Lucas came to spend the day with them.
She was met in the vestibule by Lydia, who, flying
to her, cried in a half- whisper : "I am glad you
are come, for there is such fun here! What do
you think has happened this morning? Mr. Col-
lins has made an offer to Lizzy, and she will not
have him."
Charlotte had hardly time to answer before they
were joined by Kitty, who came to tell the same
news; and no sooner had they entered the break-
fast-room, where Mrs. Bennet was alone, than she
likewise began on the subject, calling on Miss
Lucas for her compassion, and entreating her to
persuade her friend Lizzy to comply with the
wishes of all her family. "Pray do, my dear
Miss Lucas," she added, in a melancholy tone;
"for nobody is on my side, nobody takes part with
me. I am cruelly used; nobody feels for my poor
nerves."
Charlotte's reply was spared by the entrance oi
Jane and Elizabeth.
"Ay, there she comes," continued Mrs. Bennet,
170 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
"looking as unconcerned as may be, and caring
no more for us than if we were at York, provided
she can have her own way. But I tell you what,
Miss Lizzy, if you take it into your head to go on
refusing every offer of marriage in this way, you
will never get a husband at all, — and I am sure I
do not know who is to maintain you when your
father is dead. I shall not be able to keep you, —
and so I warn you. I have done with you from
this very day. I told you in the library, you
know, that I should never speak to you again, and
you will find me as good as my word. I have no
pleasure in talking to undutiful children. Not
that I have much pleasure, indeed, in talking to
anybody. People who suffer as I do from nervous
complaints can have no great inclination for talk-
ing. Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it is
always so. Those who do not complain are never
pitied.' '
Her daughters listened in silence to this effu-
sion, sensible that any attempt to reason with or
soothe her would only increase the irritation. She
talked on, therefore, without interruption from
any of them till they were joined by Mr. Collins,
who entered with an air more stately than usual,
and on perceiving whom, she said to the girls, —
"Now I do insist upon it that you, all of you,
hold your tongues, and let Mr. Collins and me
have a little conversation together."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 171
Elizabeth passed quietly out of the room, Jane
and Kitty followed, but Lydia stood her ground,
determined to hear all she could; and Charlotte,
detained first by the civility of Mr. Collins, whose
inquiries after herself and all her family were very
minute, and then by a little curiosity, satisfied
herself with walking to the window and pretend-
ing not to hear. In a doleful voice Mrs. Bennet
thus began the projected conversation : —
"Oh, Mr. Collins."
"My dear madam," replied he, "let us be for-
ever silent on this point. Far be it from me," he
presently continued, in a voice that marked his
displeasure, "to resent the behavior of your
daughter. Resignation td iaeivitable evils is the
duty of us all, — the peculiar duty of a young man
who has been so fortunate as I have been, in early
preferment; and I trust I am resigned. Perhaps
not the less so from feeling a doubt of my positive
happiness had my fair cousin honored me with her
hand; for I have often observed that resignation
is never so perfect as when the blessing denied
begins to lose somewhat of its value in our estima-
tion. You will not, I hope, consider me as show-
ing am disrespect to your family, my dear madam,
by thus withdrawing my pretensions to your daugh-
ter's favor, without having paid yourself and Mr.
Bennet the compliment of requesting you to inter-
pose your authority in my behalf. My conduct
172
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
may, I fear, be objectionable in having accepted
my dismission from your daughter's lips instead of
your own ; but we are all liable to error. I have
certainly meant well through the whole affair.
My object has been to secure an amiable com-
panion for myself, with due consideration for the
advantage of all your family; and if my manner
has been at all reprehensible, I here beg leave to
apologize." Hb
CHAPTER XXI.
The discussion of Mr. Collins's offer was now
nearly at an end, and Elizabeth had only to suffer
from the uncomfortable feelings necessarily attend-
ing it, and occasionally from some peevish allusion
of her mother. As for the gentleman himself, his
feelings were chiefly expressed, not by embarrass-
ment or dejection, or by trying to avoid her, but
by stiffness of manner, and resentful silence. He
scarcely ever spoke to her; and the assiduous at-
tentions which he had been so sensible of himself
were transferred for the rest of the day to Miss
Lucas, whose civility in listening to him was a
seasonable relief to them all, and especially to
her friend.
The morrow produced no abatement of Mrs.
Bennet's ill humor or ill health. Mr. Collins
was also in the same state of angry pride. Eliza-
beth had hoped that his resentment might shorten
his visit, but his plan did not appear in the least
affected by it. He was always to have gone on
Saturday, and to Saturday he still meant to stay.
After breakfast the girls walked to Meryton, to
inquire if Mr. Wickham were returned, and to la-
174 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
ment over his absence from the Netherfield ball.
He joined them on their entering the town, and
attended them to their aunt's, where his regret
and vexation and the concern of everybody were
well talked over. To Elizabeth, however, he vol-
untarily acknowledged that the necessity of his
absence had been' self-imposed.
"I found, " said he, "as the time drew near,
that I had better not meet Mr. Darcy; that to
be in the same room, the same party with him for
so many hours together, might be more than I
could bear, and that scenes might arise unpleasant
to more than myself.' '
She highly approved his forbearance; and they
had leisure for a full discussion of it, and for all
the commendations which they civilly bestowed on
each other, as Wickham and another officer walked
back with them to Longbourn ; and during the walk
he particularly attended to her. His accompany-
ing them was a double advantage : she felt all the
compliment it offered to herself; and it was most
acceptable as an occasion of introducing him to
her father and mother.
Soon after their return a letter was delivered to
Miss Bennet: it came from Netherfield, and was
opened immediately. The envelope contained a
sheet of elegant, little, hot-pressed paper, well
covered with a lady's fair, flowing hand; and
Elizabeth saw her sister's countenance change as
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 175
she read it, and saw her dwelling intently on some
particular passages. Jane recollected herself soon,
and putting the letter away, tried to join with her
usual cheerfulness in the general conversation;
but Elizabeth felt an anxiety on the subject which
drew off her attention even from Wickham; and
no sooner had he and his companion taken leave,
than a glance from Jane invited her to follow her
upstairs. When they had gained their own room,
Jane, taking out her letter, said: " This is from
Caroline Bingley; what it contains has surprised
nie a good deal. The whole party have left Neth-
erfield by this time, and are on their way to town,
and without any intention of coming back again.
You shall hear what she says."
She then read the first sentence aloud, which
comprised the information of their having just re-
solved to follow their brother to town directly, and
of their meaning to dine that day in Grosvenor
Street, where Mr. Hurst had a house. The next
was in these words : —
" I do not pretend to regret anything I shall leave in
Hertfordshire except your society, my dearest friend;
but we will hope at some future period to enjoy many re-
turns of that delightful intercourse we have known, and
in the mean while may lessen the pain of separation by a
very frequent and most unreserved correspondence. I
depend on you for that."
To these high-flown expressions Elizabeth lis-
tened with all the insensibility of distrust; and
176 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
though the suddenness of their removal surprised
her, she saw nothing in it really to lament: it was
not to he supposed that their ahsence from Nether
field would prevent Mr. Bingley's heing there; and
as to the loss of their society, she was persuaded
that Jane must soon cease to regard it in the en-
joyment of his.
"It is unlucky," said she, after a short pause,
"that you should not be able to see your friends
before they leave the country. But may we not
hope that the period of future happiness to which
Miss Bingley looks forward may arrive earlier
than she is aware, and that the delightful inter-
course you have known as friends will be renewed
with yet greater satisfaction as sisters? Mr. Bing-
ley will not be detained in London by them."
"Caroline decidedly says that none of the party
will return into Hertfordshire this winter. I will
read it to you."
" When my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that
the business which took him to London might be con-
cluded in three or four days; but as we are certain it
cannot be so, and at the same time convinced that when
Charles gets to town he will be in no hurry to leave it
again, we have determined on following him thither, that
he may not be obliged to spend his vacant hours in a
comfortless hotel. Many of my acquaintance are already
there for the winter : I wish I could hear that you, my
dearest friend, had any intention of making one in the
crowd; but of that I despair. I sincerely hope your
Christmas in Hertfordshire may abound in the gayeties
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 177
which that season generally brings, and that your beaux
will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of
the three of whom we shall deprive you."
"It is evident by this," added Jane, "that he
comes back no more this winter."
" It is only evident that Miss Bingley does not
mean he should."
"Why will you think so? It must be his own
doing; he is his own master. But you do not
know all. I will read you the passage which par-
ticularly hurts me. I will have no reserves from
you."
" Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister ; and to con-
fess the truth, we are scarcely less eager to meet her
again. I really do not think Georgiana Darcy has her
equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and
the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself is height-
ened into something still more interesting from the hope
we dare to entertain of her being hereafter our sister. I
do not know whether I ever before mentioned to you my
feelings on this subject, but I will not leave the country
without confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem
them unreasonable. My brother admires her greatly al-
ready ; he will have frequent opportunity now of seeing
her on the most intimate footing ; her relations all wish
the connection as much as his own ; and a sister's par-
tiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles
most capable of engaging any woman's heart. With all
these circumstances to favor an attachment, and nothing
to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest Jane, in indulging
the hope of an event which will secure the happiness of
so many?"
VOL. I. — 12
178 PRIDE A^D PREJUDICE.
"What think you of this sentence, my dear
Lizzy? " said Jane, as she finished it. "Is it
not clear enough? Does it not expressly declare
that Caroline neither expects nor wishes me to be
her sister; that she is perfectly convinced of her
brother's indifference; and that if she suspects the
nature of my feelings for him, she means (most
kindly!) to put me on my guard. Can there be
any other opinion on the subject? "
"Yes, there can; for mine is totally different.
Will you hear it? "
"Most willingly."
" You shall have it in a few words. Miss Bingley
sees that her brother is in love with you, and
wants him to marry Miss Darcy. She follows him
to town in the hope of keeping him there, and
tries to persuade you that he does not care about
you."
Jane shook her head.
" Indeed, Jane, you ought to believe me. No
one who has ever seen you together can doubt his
affection; Miss Bingley, I am sure, cannot: she
is not such a simpleton. Could she have seen
half as much love in Mr. Darcy for herself, she
would have ordered her wedding-clothes. But the
case is this: we are not rich enough or grand
enough for them; and she is the more anxious to
get Miss Darcy for her brother, from the notion
that when there has been one intermarriage, she
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 179
may have less trouble in achieving a second; in
which there is certainly some ingenuity, iand I
dare say it would succeed if Miss de Bourgh were
out of the way. But, my dearest Jane, you can-
not seriously imagine that because Miss Bingley
tells you her brother greatly admires Miss Darcy,
he is in the smallest degree less sensible of your
merit than when he took leave of you on Tuesday ;
or that it will be in her power to persuade him
that instead of being in love with you, he is very
much in love with her friend."
" If we thought alike of Miss Bingley," replied
Jane, "your representation of all this might make
me quite easy. But I know the foundation is
unjust. Caroline is incapable of wilfully deceiv-
ing any one ; and all that I can hope in this case
is that she is deceived herself."
"That is right. You could not have started a
more happy idea, since you will not take comfort
in mine : believe her to be deceived, by all means.
You have now done your duty by her, and must
fret no longer."
"But, my dear sister, can I be happy, even
supposing the best, in accepting a man whose
sisters and friends are all wishing him to marry
elsewhere?"
"You must decide for yourself," said Elizabeth;
"and if upon mature deliberation you find that
the misery of disobliging his two sisters is more
180 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
than equivalent to the happiness of being his
wife, I advise you by all means to refuse him."
"How can you talk so?" said Jane, faintly
smiling; "you must know that though I should
be exceedingly grieved at their disapprobation, I
could not hesitate."
"I did not think you would; and that being
the case, I cannot consider your situation with
much compassion."
"But if he returns no more this winter, my
choice will never be required. A thousand things
may arise in six months."
The idea of his returning no more Elizabeth
treated with the utmost contempt. It appeared to
her merely the suggestion of Caroline's interested
wishes; and she could not for a moment suppose
that those wishes, however openly or artfully
spoken, could influence a young man so totally
independent of every one.
She represented to her sister, as forcibly as pos-
sible, what she felt on the subject, and had soon
the pleasure of seeing its happy effect. Jane's
temper was not desponding; and she was gradually
led to hope, though the diffidence of affection
sometimes overcame the hope, that Bingley would
return to Netherfield, and answer every wish of
her heart.
They agreed that Mrs. Bennet should only hear
of the departure of the family, without being
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 181
alarmed on the score of the gentleman's conduct;
but even this partial communication gave her a
great deal of concern, and she bewailed it as ex-
ceedingly unlucky that the ladies should happen
to go away just as they were all getting so inti-
mate together. After lamenting it, however, at
some length, she had the consolation of thinking
that Mr. Bingley would be soon down again, and
soon dining at Longbourn; and the conclusion of
all was the comfortable declaration that though
he had been invited only to a family dinner, she
would take care to have two full courses.
CHAPTER XXII.
The Bennets were engaged to dine with the
Lucases; and again, during the chief of the day,
was Miss Lucas so kind as to listen to Mr. Collins.
Elizabeth took an opportunity of thanking her.
" It keeps him in good humor/' said she, M and I
am more obliged to you than I can express."
Charlotte assured her friend of her satisfaction in
being useful, and that it amply repaid her for the
little sacrifice of her time. This was very ami-
able; but Charlotte's kindness extended farther
than Elizabeth had any conception of: its object
was nothing less than to secure her from any
return of Mr. Collins's addresses, by engaging
them towards herself. Such was Miss Lucas's
scheme; and appearances were so favorable that
when they parted at night, she would have felt
almost sure of success if he had not been to leave
Hertfordshire so very soon. But here she did
injustice to the fire and independence of his char-
acter; for it led him to escape out of Longbourn
House the next morning with admirable slyness,
and hasten to Lucas Lodge to throw himself at
her feet. He was anxious to avoid the notice of
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 183
his cousins, from a conviction that if they saw
him depart, they could not fail to conjecture his
design, and he was not willing to have the attempt
known till its success could be known likewise;
for though feeling almost secure, and with reason,
for Charlotte had been tolerably encouraging, he
was comparatively diffident since the adventure of
Wednesday. His reception, however, was of the
most flattering kind. Miss Lucas perceived him
from an upper window as he walked towards the
house, and instantly set out to meet him acci-
dentally in the lane. But little had she dared to
hope that so much love and eloquence awaited her
there.
In as short a time as Mr. Collinses long speeches
would allow, everything was settled between them
to the satisfaction of both; and as they entered
the house, he earnestly entreated her to name the
day that was to make him the happiest of men;
and though such a solicitation must be waived
for the present, the lady felt no inclination to
trifle with his happiness. The stupidity with
which he was favored by nature must guard his
courtship from any charm that could make a woman
wish for its continuance ; and Miss Lucas, who ac-
cepted him solely from the pure and disinterested
desire of an establishment, cared not how soon that
establishment were gained.
Sir William and Lady Lucas were speedily ap-
184 PRIDE AtfD PREJUDICE.
plied to for their consent; and it was bestowed
with a most joyful alacrity. Mr. Collins's present
circumstances made it a most eligible match for
their daughter, to whom they could give little for-
tune; and his prospects of future wealth were
exceedingly fair. Lady Lucas began directly to
calculate, with more interest than the matter had
ever excited before, how many years longer Mr.
Bennet was likely to live ; and Sir William gave it
as his decided opinion, that whenever Mr. Collins
should be in possession of the Longbourn estate, it
would be highly expedient that both he and his
wife should make their appearance at St. James's.
The whole family, in short, were properly overjoyed
on the occasion. The younger girls formed hopes
of coming out a year or two sooner than they might
otherwise have done; and the boys were relieved
from their apprehension of Charlotte's dying an
old maid. Charlotte herself was tolerably com-
posed. She had gained her point, and had time
to consider of it. Her reflections were in general
satisfactory. Mr. Collins, to be sure, was neither
sensible nor agreeable; his society was irksome,
and his attachment to her must be imaginary.
But still he would be her husband. Without
thinking highly either of men or of matrimony,
marriage had always been her object: it was
the only honorable provision for well-educated
young women of small fortune, and, however
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 185
uncertain of giving happiness, must be their pleas-
antest preservative from want. This preserva-
tive she had now obtained; and at the age of
twenty-seven, without having ever been handsome,
she felt all the good luck of it. The least agree-
able circumstance in the business was the surprise
it must occasion to Elizabeth Bennet, whose
friendship she valued beyond that of any other
person. Elizabeth would wonder, and probably
would blame her; and though her resolution was
not to be shaken, her feelings must be hurt by
such a disapprobation. She resolved to give her
the information herself; and therefore charged Mr.
Collins, when he returned to Longbourn to dinner,
to drop no hint of what had passed before any of
the family. A promise of secrecy was of course
very dutifully given, but it could not be kept
without difficulty; for the curiosity excited by his
long absence burst forth in such very direct ques-
tions on his return as required some ingenuity to
evade, and he was at the same time exercising
great self-denial, for he was longing to publish his
prosperous love.
As he was to begin his journey too early on the
morrow to see any of the family, the ceremony of
leave-taking was performed when the ladies moved
for the night; and Mrs. Bennet, with great polite-
ness and cordiality, said how happy they should
be to see him at Longbourn again, whenever
186 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
his other engagements might allow him to visit
them.
"My dear madam," he replied, " this invitation
is particularly gratifying, because it is what I
have been hoping to receive ; and you may be very
certain that I shall avail myself of it as soon as
possible."
They were all astonished; and Mr. Bennet, who
could by no means wish for so speedy a return,
immediately said, —
"But is there not danger of Lady Catherine's
disapprobation here, my good sir? You had better
neglect your relations than run the risk of offend-
ing your patroness."
"My dear sir," replied Mr. Collins, "I am
particularly obliged to you for this friendly cau-
tion, and you may depend upon my not tak-
ing so material a step without her Ladyship's
concurrence."
"You cannot be too much on your guard. Bisk
anything rather than her displeasure; and if you
find it likely to be raised by your coming to us
again, which I should think exceedingly probable,
stay quietly at home, and be satisfied that we
shall take no offence."
"Believe me, my dear sir, my gratitude is
warmly excited by such affectionate attention;
and, depend upon it, you will speedily receive
from me a letter of thanks for this as well as for
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
187
every other mark of your regard during my stay in
Hertfordshire. As for my fair cousins, though
my absence may not be long enough to render it
necessary, I shall now take the liberty of wishing
them health and happiness, not excepting my
cousin Elizabeth."
With proper civilities, the ladies then withdrew;
all of them equally surprised to find that he medi-
tated a quick return. Mrs. Bennet wished to un-
derstand by it that he thought of paying his ad-
dresses to one of her younger girls, and Mary
might have been prevailed on to accept him. She
rated his abilities much higher than any of the
others: there was a solidity in his reflections
which often struck her; and though by no means
so clever as herself, she thought that if encour-
aged to read and improve himself by such an ex-
ample as hers, he might become a very agreeable
companion. But on the following morning every
hope of this kind was done away. Miss Lucas
called soon after breakfast, and in a private con-
ference with Elizabeth related the event of the
day before.
The possibility of Mr. Collins's fancying himself
in love with her friend had once occurred to Eliza-
beth within the last day or two; but that Charlotte
could encourage him seemed almost as far from
possibility as that she could encourage him herself;
and her astonishment was consequently so great as
.
188 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
to overcome at first the bounds of decorum, and
she could not help crying out, —
"Engaged to Mr. Collins! my dear Charlotte,
impossible!"
The steady countenance which Miss Lucas had
commanded in telling her story gave way to a
momentary confusion here on receiving so direct
a reproach; though, as it was no more than she
expected, she soon regained her composure, and
calmly replied, —
"Why should you be surprised, my dear Eliza?
Do you think it incredible that Mr. Collins should
be able to procure any woman's good opinion, be-
cause he was not so happy as to succeed with
you?"
But Elizabeth had now recollected herself; and
making a strong effort for it, was able to assure
her, with tolerable firmness, that the prospect of
their relationship was highly grateful to her, and
that she wished her all imaginable happiness.
"I see what you are feeling," replied Charlotte:
"you must be surprised, very much surprised, so
lately as Mr. Collins was wishing to marry you.
But when you have had time to think it all over, I
hope you will be satisfied with what I have done.
I am not romantic, you know; I never was. I
ask only a comfortable home; and considering Mr.
Collins's character, connections, and situation in
life, I am convinced that my chance of happiness
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 189
with liiin is as fair as most people can boast on
entering the marriage state. "
Elizabeth quietly answered, " Undoubtedly ; "
and after an awkward pause they returned to the
rest of the family. Charlotte did not stay much
longer; and Elizabeth was then left to reflect on
what she had heard. It was a long time before
she became at all reconciled to the idea of so un-
suitable a match. The strangeness of Mr. Colli ns's
making two offers of marriage within three days
was nothing in comparison of his being now ac«
cepted. She had always felt that Charlotte's opin-
ion of matrimony was not exactly like her own;
but she could not have supposed it possible that
when called into action, she would have sacrificed
every better feeling to worldly advantage. Char-
lotte the wife of Mr. Collins was a most hu-
miliating picture! And to the pang of a friend
disgracing herself and sunk in her esteem, was
added the distressing conviction that it was im-
possible for that friend to be tolerably happy in
the lot she had chosen.
.#
CHAPTER XXIII.
Elizabeth was sitting with her mother and
sisters, reflecting on what she had heard, and
doubting whether she was authorized to mention
it, when Sir William Lucas himself appeared, sent
by his daughter to announce her engagement to
the family. With many compliments to them,
and much self-gratulation on the prospect of a
connection between the houses, he unfolded the
matter, — to an audience not merely wondering,
but incredulous : for Mrs. Bennet, with more perse-
verance than politeness, protested he must be en-
tirely mistaken; and Lydia, always unguarded and
often uncivil, boisterously exclaimed, —
" Good Lord! Sir William, how can you tell
such a story? Do not you know that Mr. Collins
wants to marry Lizzy?"
Nothing less than the complaisance of a courtier
could have borne without anger such treatment:
but Sir William's good-breeding carried him
through it all; and though he begged leave to be
positive as to the truth of his information, he
listened to all their impertinence with the most
forbearing courtesy.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 191
Elizabeth, feeling it incumbent on her to relieve
him from so unpleasant a situation, now put her-
self forward to confirm his account, by mentioning
her prior knowledge of it from Charlotte herself ;
and endeavored to put a stop to the exclamations
of her mother and sisters, by the earnestness of
her congratulations to Sir William, in which she
was readily joined by J^'.ae, and by making a
variety of remarks on the happiness that might be
expected from the match, the excellent character
of Mr. Collins, . and the convenient distance of
Hunsford from London.
Mrs. Bennet was, in fact, too much overpowered
to say a great deal while Sir William remained;
but no sooner had be left them than her feelings
found a rapid vent. In the first place, she per-
sisted in disbelieving the whole of the matter;
secondly, she was very sure that Mr. Collins had
been taken in; thirdly, she trusted that they
would never be happy together; and, fourthly,
that the match might be broken off. Two infer-
ences, however, were plainly deduced from the
whole, — one, that Elizabeth was the real cause of
all the mischief; and the other, that she herself
had been barbarously used by them all, — and on
these two points she principally dwelt during the
rest of the day. Nothing could console and noth-
ing appease her. Nor did that day wear out her
resentment. A week elapsed before she could see
192 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
Elizabeth without scolding her; a month passed
away before she could speak to Sir William or
Lady Lucas without being rude; and many months
were gone before she could at all forgive their
daughter. Ifc,
Mr. Bennet's emotions were much more tran-
quil on the occasion, and such as he did expe-
rience he pronounced lm be of a most agreeable
sort; for it gratified him, he said, to discover that
Charlotte Lucas, whom he had been used to think
tolerably sensible, was as foolish as his wife,
and more foolish than his daughter!
Jane confessed herself a little smnrised at the
match: but she said less of her astonishment
than of her earnest desire for their happiness;
nor could Elizabeth persuade her to consider it
as improbable. Kitty and Lydia were far from
envying Miss Lucas, for Mr. Collins was only a
clergyman; and it affected them in no othei
than as a piece of news to spread at Merytoi^H|
Lady Lucas could not be insensible of triumph
on being able to retort on Mrs. Bennet the com-
fort of having a daughter well married; and she
called at Longbourn rather oftener than usual to
say how happy she was, though Mrs. Bennet' s
sour looks and ill-natured remarks might have?
been enough to drive happiness away.
Between Elizabeth and Charlotte there was a
restraint which kept them mutually silent on the
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 193
subject; and Elizabeth felt persuaded that no real
confidence could ever subsist between them again.
Her disappointment in Charlotte made her turn
with fonder regard to her sister, of whose rectitude
and delicacy she was sure her opinion could never
be shaken, and for whose happiness she grew
daily more anxious, as Bingley had now been gone
a week, and nothing was heard of his return.
Jane had sent Caroline an early answer to her
letter, and was counting the days till she might
reasonably hope to hear again. The promised
letter of thanks from Mr. Collins arrived on
Tuesday, addressed to their father, and written
with all the solemnity of gratitude which a twelve-
month's abode in the family might have prompted.
After discharging his conscience on that head, he
proceeded to inform them, with many rapturous
expressions, of his happiness in having obtained
the affection of their amiable neighbor, Miss
Lucas, and then explained that it was merely with
the view of enjoying her society that he had been
so ready to close with their kind wish of seeing him
again at Longbourn, whither he hoped to be able
to return on Monday fortnight ; for Lady Catherine,
he added, so heartily approved his marriage that
she wished it to take place as soon as possible,
which he trusted would be an unanswerable argu-
ment with his amiable Charlotte to name an early
day for making him the happiest of men .
Vol. i. — 13
194 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
Mr. Collins's return into Hertfordshire was no
longer a matter of pleasure to Mrs. Bennet. On
the contrary, she was as much disposed to com-
plain of it as her husband. It was very strange
that he should come to Longbourn instead of to
Lucas Lodge ; it was also very inconvenient and
exceedingly troublesome. She hated having vis-
itors in the house while her health was so indiffer-
ent, and lovers were of all people the most disa-
greeable. Such were the gentle murmurs of Mrs.
Bennet, and they gave way only to the greater
distress of Mr. Bingley's continued absence.
Neither Jane nor Elizabeth was comfortable
on this subject. Day after day passed away with-
out bringing any other tidings of him than the
report which shortly prevailed in Meryton of his
coming no more to Netherfield the whole winter, —
a report which highly incensed Mrs. Bennet, and
which she never failed to contradict as a most
scandalous falsehood.
Even Elizabeth began to fear, not that Bing-
ley was indifferent, but that his sisters would be
successful in keeping him away. Unwilling as
she was to admit an idea so destructive of Jane's
happiness, and so dishonorable to the stability of
her lover, she could not prevent its frequently
recurring. The united efforts of his two unfeeling
sisters and of his overpowering friend, assisted by
the attractions of Miss Darcy and the amusements
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 195
of London, might be too much, she feared, for the
strength of his attachment.
As for Jane, her anxiety under this suspense
was, of course, more painful than Elizabeth's;
but whatever she felt she was desirous of conceal-
ing, and between herself and Elizabeth, therefore,
the subject was never alluded to. But as no such
delicacy restrained her mother, an hour seldom
passed in which she did not talk of Bingley, ex-
press her impatience for his arrival, or even re-
quire Jane to confess that if he did not come back
she should think herself very ill used. It needed
all Jane's steady mildness to bear these attacks
with tolerable tranquillity.
Mr. Collins returned most punctually on the
Monday fortnight ; but his reception at Longbourn
was not quite so gracious as it had been on. his
first introduction. He was too happy, however,
to need much attention; and, luckily for the
others, the business of love-making relieved them
from a great deal of his company. The chief of
every day was spent by him at Lucas Lodge, and
he sometimes returned to Longbourn only in time
to make an apology for his absence before the
family went to bed.
Mrs. Bennet was really in a most pitiable state.
The very mention of anything concerning the
match threw her into an agony of ill-humor, and
wherever she went she was sure of hearing it
m
196 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
talked of. The sight of Miss Lucas was odious to
her. As her successor in that house, she regarded
her with jealous abhorrence. Whenever Charlotte
came to see them, she concluded her to be an-
ticipating the hour of possession; and whenever
she spoke in a low voice to Mr. Collins, was con-
vinced that they were talking of the Longbourn
estate, and resolving to turn herself and her daugh-
ters out of the house as soon as Mr. Bennet was
dead. She complained bitterly of all this to her
husband.
" Indeed, Mr. Bennet/ ' said she, "it is very
hard to think that Charlotte Lucas should ever be
mistress of this house, that I should be forced to
make way for her, and live to see her take my
place in it."
"My dear, do not give way to such gloomy
thoughts. Let us hope for better things. Let us
flatter ourselves that I may be the survivor."
This was not very consoling to Mrs. Bennet;
and therefore, instead of making any answer, she
went on as before.
" I cannot bear to think that they should have
all this estate. If it was not for the entail, I
should not mind it."
"What should not you mind? "
" I should not mind anything at all."
" Let us be thankful that you are preserved from
a state of such insensibility."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 197
" I never can be thankful, Mr. Bennet, for any-
thing about the entail. How any one could have
the conscience to entail away an estate from one's
own daughters I cannot understand; and all for
the sake of Mr. Collins too! Why should he
have it more than anybody else?"
"I leave it to yourself to determine/' said Mr,
Bennet.
-
i
CHAPTER XXIV.
Miss Bingley's letter arrived, and put an end to
doubt. The very first sentence conveyed the as-
surance of their being all settled in London for the
winter, and concluded with her brother's regret
at not having had time to pay his respects to
his friends in Hertfordshire before he left the
country.
Hope was over, entirely over; and when Jane
could attend to the rest of the letter, she found
little, except the professed affection of the writer,
that could give her any comfort. Miss Darcy's
praise occupied the chief of it. Her many attrac-
tions were again dwelt on; and Caroline boasted
joyfully of their increasing intimacy, and ventured
to predict the accomplishment of the wishes which
had been unfolded in her former letter. She wrote
also with great pleasure of her brother's being an
inmate of Mr. Darcy's house, and mentioned with
raptures some plans of the latter with regard to
new furniture.
Elizabeth, to whom Jane very soon communi-
cated the chief of all this, heard it in silent indig-
nation. Her heart was divided between concern
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 199
r
for her sister and resentment against all others.
To Caroline's assertion of her brother's being par-
tial to Miss Darcy, she paid no credit. That he
was really fond of Jane, she doubted no more than
she had ever done; and much as she had always
been disposed to like him, she could not think
without anger, hardly without contempt, on that
easiness of temper, that want of proper resolution,
which now made him the slave of his designing
friends, and led him to sacrifice his own happiness
to the caprice of their inclinations. Had his own
happiness, however, been the only sacrifice, he
might have been allowed to sport with it in what-
ever manner he thought best; but her sister's was
involved in it, as she thought he must be sensible
himself. It was a subject, in short, on which
reflection would be long indulged, and must be
unavailing. She could think of nothing else; and
yet, whether Bingley's regard had really died
away, or were suppressed by his friend's interfer-
ence; whether he had been aware of Jane's attach-
ment, or whether it had escaped his observation;
whatever were the case, though her opinion of him
must be materially affected by the difference, her
sister's situation remained the same, her peace
equally wounded.
A day or two passed before Jane had courage to
speak of her feelings to Elizabeth; but at last, on
Mrs. Bennet's leaving them together, after a longer
r
200 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
irritation than usual about Netherfield and its
master, she could not help saying, —
" Oh that my dear mother had more command
over herself; she can have no idea of the pain she
gives me by her continual reflections on him. But
I will not repine. It cannot last long. He will
be forgot, and we shall all be as we were before.' '
Elizabeth looked at her sister with incredulous
solicitude, but said nothing.
"You doubt me," cried Jane, slightly coloring;
" indeed you have no reason. He may live in my
memory as the most amiable man of my acquaint-
ance, but that is all. I have nothing either
to hope or fear, and nothing to reproach him
with. Thank God, I have not that pain. A little
time, therefore — I shall certainly try to get the
better — "
With a stronger voice she soon added: "I have
this comfort immediately, that it has not been
more than an error of fancy on my side, and that
it has done no harm to any one but myself."
"My dear Jane," exclaimed Elizabeth, "you
are too good. Your sweetness and disinterested-
ness are really angelic; I do not know what to say
to you. I feel as if I had never done you justice,
or loved you as you deserve."
Miss Bennet eagerly disclaimed all extraor-
dinary merit, and threw back the praise on her
sister's warm affection.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 201
"Nay," said Elizabeth, "this is not fair.
You wish to think all the world respectable, and
are hurt if I speak ill of anybody. I only want to
think you perfect, and you set yourself against it.
Do not be afraid of my running into any excess,
of my encroaching on your privilege of universal
good-will. You need not. There are few people 1
whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I '
think well. The more I see of the world the more
am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms
my belief of the inconsistency of all human char-
acters, and of the little dependence that can be
placed on the appearance of either merit or sense.
I have met with two instances lately: one I
will not mention; the other is Charlotte's mar-
riage. It is unaccountable, — in every view it is
unaccountable! "
"My dear Lizzie, do not give way to such feel-
ings as these. They will ruin your happiness.
You do not make allowance enough for difference
of situation and temper. Consider Mr. Collins's
respectability, and Charlotte's prudent, steady
character. Remember that she is one of a large
family; that as to fortune it is a most eligible
match; and be ready to believe, for everybody's
sake, that she may feel something like regard and
esteem for our cousin.' '
"To oblige you, I would try to believe almost
anything, but no one else could be benefited by
202 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
such a belief as this; for were I persuaded that
Charlotte had any regard for him, I should only
think worse of her understanding than I now do
of her heart. My dear Jane, Mr. Collins is a
conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man;
you know he is, as well as I do; and you must
feel, as well as I do, that the woman who marries
him cannot have a proper way of thinking. You
shall not defend her, though it is Charlotte Lucas.
You shall not, for the sake of one individual
change the meaning of principle and integrity,
nor endeavor to persuade yourself or me, that
selfishness is prudence, and insensibility of dan-
ger security for happiness."
"I must think your language too strong in
speaking of both,,, replied Jane; "and I hope
you will be convinced of it, by seeing them happy
together. But enough of this. You alluded to
something else. You mentioned two instances.
I cannot misunderstand you, but I entreat you,
dear Lizzie, not to pain me by thinking that per-
son to blame, and saying your opinion of him is
sunk. We must not be so ready to fancy ourselves
intentionally injured. We must not expect a
lively young man to be always so guarded and
circumspect. It is very often nothing but our
own vanity that deceives us. Women fancy
admiration means more than it does."
"And men take care that they should."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 203
"If it is designedly done, they cannot be justi-
fied; but I have no idea of there being so much
design in the world as some persons imagine."
"I am far from attributing any part of Mr.
Bingley's conduct to design," said Elizabeth;
"but without scheming to do wrong or to make
others unhappy, there may be error and there may
be misery. Thoughtlessness, want of attention to
other people's feelings, and want of resolution will
do the business."
"And do you impute it to either of those?"
"Yes; to the last. But if I go on I shall dis-
please you by saying what I think of persons you
esteem. Stop me whilst you can."
"You persist, then, in supposing his sisters
influence him."
"Yes, in conjunction with his friend."
"I cannot believe it. Why should they try to
influence him? They can only wish his happiness ;
and if he is attached to me, no other woman can
secure it."
"Your first position is false. They may wish
many things besides his happiness : they may wish
his increase of wealth and consequence; they may
wish him to marry a girl who has all the impor-
tance of money, great connections, and pride."
"Beyond a doubt they do wish him to choose
Miss Darcy," replied Jane; "but this may be
from better feelings than you are supposing. They
204 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
have known her much longer than they have known
me ; no wonder if they love her better. But whatever
may be their own wishes, it is very unlikely they
should have opposed their brother's. What sister
would think herself at liberty to do it, unless there
were something very objectionable? If they be-
lieved him attached to me, they would not try to
part us ; if he were so, they could not succeed. By
supposing such an affection, you make everybody
acting unnaturally and wrong, and me most un-
happy. Do not distress me by the idea. I am
not ashamed of having been mistaken — or, at
least, it is slight, it is nothing in comparison of
what I should feel in thinking ill of him or his
sisters. Let me take it in the best light, in the
light in which it may be understood. "
Elizabeth could not oppose such a wish; and
from this time Mr. Bingley's name was scarcely
ever mentioned between them.
Mrs. Bennet still continued to wonder and re-
pine at his returning no more ; and though a day
seldom passed in which Elizabeth did not account
for it clearly, there seemed little chance of her
ever considering it with less perplexity. Her
daughter endeavored to convince her of what she
did not believe herself, that his attentions to Jane
had been merely the effect of a common and tran-
sient liking, which ceased when he saw her no
more j but though the probability of the statement
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 205
was admitted at the time, she had the same story
to repeat every day. Mrs. Bennet' s best comfort
was that Mr. Bingley must be down again in the
summer.
Mr. Bennet treated the matter differently. " So,
Lizzy," said he, one day, "your sister is crossed
in love, I find. I congratulate her. Next to be-
ing married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a
little now and then. It is something to think of,
and gives her a sort of distinction among her com-
panions. When is your turn to come? You will
hardly bear to be long outdone by Jane. Now is --
your time. Here are officers enough at Meryton J
to disappoint all the young ladies in the country.
Let Wickham be your man. He is a pleasant ,
fellow, and would jilt you creditably."
"Thank you, sir, but a less agreeable man
would satisfy me. We must not all expect Jane's
good fortune."
"True," said Mr. Bennet; "but it is a comfort
to think that, whatever of that kind may befall
you, you have an affectionate mother who will
always make the most of it."
Mr. Wickham's society was of material service
in dispelling the gloom which the late perverse
occurrences had thrown on many of the Longbourn
family. They saw him often, and to his other
recommendations was now added that of general
unreserve. The whole of what Elizabeth had al-
206 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
ready heard, his claims on Mr. Darcy, and all that
he had suffered from him was now openly acknowl-
edged and publicly canvassed; and everybody was
pleased to think how much they had always dis-
liked Mr. Darcy before they had known anything
of the matter.
Miss Bennet was the only creature who could
suppose there might be any extenuating circum-
stances in the case unknown to the society of
Hertfordshire : her mild and steady candor always
pleaded for allowances, and urged the possibility
of mistakes ; but by everybody else Mr. Darcy was
condemned as the worst of men.
CHAPTEE XXV.
After a week spent in professions of love and
schemes of felicity, Mr. Collins was called from
his amiable Charlotte by the arrival of Saturday.
The pain of separation, however, might be allevi-
ated on his side by preparations for the recep-
tion of his bride, as he had reason to hope that
shortly after his next return into Hertfordshire
the day would be fixed that was to make him the
happiest of men. He took leave of his relations
at Longbourn with as much solemnity as before;
wished his fair cousins health and happiness
again, and promised their father another letter of
thanks.
On the following Monday Mrs. Bennet had the
pleasure of receiving her brother and his wife, who
came, as usual, to spend the Christmas at Long-
bourn. Mr. Gardiner was a sensible, gentleman-
like man, greatly superior to his sister, as well by
nature as education. The Netherfield ladies would
have had difficulty in believing that a man who
lived by trade, and within view of his own ware-
houses, could have been so well bred and agreeable.
Mrs. Gardiner, who was several years younger
208 PRIDE AND PP^JUDxCE.
than Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips, was an amia-
ble, intelligent, elegant woman, and a great fa-
vorite with her Longbourn nieces. Between the
two eldest and herself especially, there subsisted a
very particular regard. They had frequently been
staying with her in town.
The first part of Mrs. Gardiner's business, on
her arrival, was to. distribute her presents and
describe the newest fashions. When this was
done, she had a less active part to play. It be-
came her turn to listen. Mrs. Bennet had many
grievances to relate, and much to complain of.
They had all been very ill-used since she last
saw her sister. Two of her girls had been on the
point of marriage, and after all there was nothing
•in it.
"I do not blame Jane," she continued, "for
Jane would have got Mr. Bingley if she could.
But, Lizzy! Oh, sister! it is very hard to think
that she might have been Mr. Collins's wife by
this time, had not it been for her own perverse-
ness. He made her an offer in this very room,
and she refused him. The consequence of it is
that Lady Lucas will have a daughter married before
I have, and that Longbourn estate is just as much
entailed as ever. The Lucases are very artful
people, indeed, sister. They are all for what they
can get. I am sorry to say it of them, but so it
is. It makes me very nervous and poorly, to be
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 209
thwarted so in my own family, and to have neigh-
bors who think of themselves before anybody else.
However, your coming just at this time is the
greatest of comforts, and I am very glad to hear
what you tell us of long sleeves."
Mrs. Gardiner, to whom the chief of this news
had been given before, in the course of Jane and
Elizabeth's correspondence with her, made her
sister a slight answer, and, in compassion to her
nieces, turned the conversation.
When alone with Elizabeth afterwards, she
spoke more on the subject. "It seems likely to
have been a desirable match for Jane," said she.
" I am sorry it went off. But these things hap-
pen so often ! A young man, such as you describe
Mr. Bingley, so easily falls in love with a pretty
girl for a few weeks, and, when accident separates
them, so easily forgets her, that these sort of in-
constancies are very frequent."
"An excellent consolation in its way," said
Elizabeth; " but it will not do for us. We do not
suffer by accident. It does not often happen that
the interference of friends will persuade a young
man of independent fortune to think no more of a
girl whom he was violently in love with only a
few days before."
"But that expression of ( violently in love ' is
so hackneyed, so doubtful, so indefinite, that it
gives me very little idea. It is as often applied
vol. i. — 14
210 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
to feelings which arise only from a half hour's ac-
quaintance as to a real, strong attachment. Pray,
how violent was Mr. Bingley's love? "
" I never saw a more promising inclination; he
was growing quite inattentive to other people, and
wholly engrossed hy her. Every time they met, it
was more decided and remarkable. At his own
ball he offended two or three young ladies hy not
asking them to dance; and I spoke to him twice
myself without receiving an answer. Could there
be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the
very essence of love? "
" Oh, yes! of that kind of love which I suppose
him to have felt. Poor Jane ! I am sorry for her,
because, with her disposition, she may not get
over it immediately. It had better have happened
to you, Lizzy; you would have laughed yourself
out of it sooner. But do you think she would be
prevailed on to go back with us? Change of scene
might be of service, and perhaps a little relief
from home may be as useful as any thing.' '
Elizabeth was exceedingly pleased with this
proposal, and felt persuaded of her sister's ready
acquiescence.
" I hope," added Mrs. Gardiner, "that no con-
sideration with regard to this young man will in-
fluence her. We live in so different a part of
town, all our connections are so different, and, as
you well know, we go out so little, that it is very
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 211
improbable they should meet at all, unless he
really comes to see her."
" And that is quite impossible; for he is now in
the custody of his friend, and Mr. Darcy would no
more suffer him to call on Jane in such a part of
London ! My dear aunt, how could you think of
it? Mr. Darcy may perhaps have heard of such
a place as Gracechurch Street, but he would hardly
think a month's ablution enough to cleanse him
from its impurities, were he once to enter it; and
depend upon it, Mr. Bingley never stirs without
him."
"So much the better. I hope they will not
meet at all. But does not Jane correspond with
his sister? She will not be able to help calling."
u She will drop the acquaintance entirely.' '
But, in spite of the certainty in which Elizabeth
affected to place this point, as well as the still
more interesting one of Bingley's being withheld
from seeing Jane, she felt a solicitude on the sub-
ject which convinced her, on examination, that she
did not consider it entirely hopeless. It was pos-
sible, and sometimes she thought it probable, that
his affection might be re-animated, and the influ-
ence of his friends successfully combated by the
more natural influence of Jane's attractions.
Miss Bennet accepted her aunt's invitation with
pleasure; and the Bingleys were no otherwise in
her thoughts at the same time than as she hoped,
212 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
by Caroline's not living in the same house with
her brother, she might occasionally spend a morn-
ing with her, without any danger of seeing him.
The Gardiners stayed a week at Longbourn ; and
what with the Philipses, the Lucases, and the offi*
cers, there was not a day without its engagement.
Mrs. Bennet had so carefully provided for the en-
tertainment of her brother and sister, that they
did not once sit down to a family dinner. When
the engagement was for home, some of the officers
always made part of it, of which officers Mr. Wick-
ham was sure to be one; and on these occasions
Mrs. Gardiner, rendered suspicious by Elizabeth's
warm commendation of him, narrowly observed
them both. Without supposing them, from what
she saw, to be very seriously in love, their prefer-
ence of each other was plain enough to make her a
little uneasy; and she resolved to speak to Eliza-
beth on the subject before she left Hertfordshire,
and represent to her the imprudence of encourag-
ing such an attachment.
To Mrs. Gardiner, Wickham had one means of
affording pleasure, unconnected with his general
powers. About ten or a dozen years ago, before
her marriage, she had spent a considerable time in
that very part of Derbyshire to which he belonged.
They had therefore many acquaintance in com-
mon; and though Wickham had been little there
since the death of Darcy's father, five years before,
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 213
it was yet in his power to give her fresher intelli-
gence of her former friends than she had been in
the way of procuring.
Mrs. Gardiner had seen Pemberley, and known
the late Mr. Darcy by character perfectly well.
Here, consequently, was an inexhaustible subject
of discourse. In comparing her recollection of
Pemberley with the minute description which
Wickham could give, and in bestowing her tribute
of praise on the character of its late possessor, she
was delighting both him and herself. On being
made acquainted with the present Mr. Darcy's
treatment of him, she tried to remember some-
thing of that gentleman's reputed disposition,
when quite a lad, which might agree with it; and
was confident, at last, that she recollected having
heard Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy formerly spoken of
as a very proud, ill-natured boy.
CHAPTER XXVI.
Mrs. Gardiner's caution to Elizabeth was punc-
tually and kindly given on the first favorable op-
portunity of speaking to her alone. After honestly
telling her what she thought, she thus went on :
"You are too sensible a girl, Lizzy, to fall in
love merely because you are warned against it;
and therefore I am not afraid of speaking openly.
Seriously, I would have you ue on your guard.
Do not involve yourself, or endeavor to involve
him, in an affection which the want of fortune
would make so very imprudent. I have nothing
to say against him : he is a most interesting young
man ; and if he had the fortune he ought to have,
I should think you could not do better. But as it
is — you must not let your fancy run away with
you. You have sense, and we all expect you to
use it. Your father would depend on your resolu-
tion and good conduct, I am sure. You must not
disappoint your father."
"My dear aunt, this is being serious indeed."
"Yes, and I hope to engage you to be serious
likewise."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 215
" Well, then, you need not be under any alarm.
I will take care of myself, and of Mr. Wickham
too. He shall not be in love with me, if I can
prevent it."
"Elizabeth, you are not serious now."
"I beg your pardon. I will try again. At
present I am not in love with Mr. Wickham ; no,
I certainly am not. But he is, beyond all com-
parison, the most agreeable man I ever saw; and
if he becomes really attached to me — I believe it
will be better that he should not. I see the im-
prudence of it. Oh, that abominable Mr. Darcy!
My father's opinion of me does me the greatest
honor, and I should be miserable to forfeit it.
My father, however, is partial to Mr. Wickham.
In short, my dear aunt, I should be very sorry
to be the means of making any of you unhappy;
but since we see, every day, that where there is
affection young people are seldom withheld, by
immediate want of fortune, from entering into
engagements with each other, how can I promise
to be wiser than so many of my fellow-creatures,
if I am tempted, or how am I even to know that it
would be wisdom to resist? All that I can promise
you, therefore, is not to be in a hurry. I will not
be in a hurry to believe myself his first object.
When I am in company with him, I will not be
wishing. In short, I will do my best."
" Perhaps it will be as well if you discourage
216 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
his coming here so very often. At least you
should not remind your mother of inviting him."
" As I did the other day/' said Elizabeth, with
a conscious smile; "very true, it will be wise in
me to refrain from that. But do not imagine that
he is always here so often. It is on your account
that he has been so frequently invited this week.
You know iriy mother's ideas as to the necessity of
constant company for her friends. But really, and
upon my honor, I will try to do what I think to be
wisest; and now I hope you are satisfied/ '
Her aunt assured her that she was; and Eliza-
beth, having thanked her for the kindness of her
hints, they parted, — a wonderful instance of ad-
vice being given on such a point without being
resented.
Mr. Collins returned into Hertfordshire soon
after it had been quitted by the Gardiners and
Jane; but as he took up his abode with the Lu-
cases, his arrival was no great inconvenience to
Mrs. Bennet. His marriage was now fast ap-
proaching; and she was at length so far resigned
as to think it inevitable, and even repeatedly to
say, in an ill-natured tone, that she "wished they
might be happy." Thursday was to be the wed-
ding-day, and on Wednesday Miss Lucas paid her
farewell visit; and when she rose to take leave,
Elizabeth, ashamed of her mother's ungracious and
reluctant good wishes, and sincerely affected her-
HIIDE AND PREJUDICE. 217
self, accompanied her out of the room. As they
went downstairs together, Charlotte said, —
"I shall depend on hearing from you very often,
Eliza."
" That you certainly shall."
"And I have another favor to ask. Will you
come and see me?"
" We shall often meet, I hope, in Hertfordshire."
"I am not likely to leave Kent for some time.
Promise me, therefore, to come to Hunsford."
Elizabeth could not refuse, though she foresaw
little pleasure in the visit.
"My father and Maria are to come to me in
March," added Charlotte, "and I hope you will
consent to be of the party. Indeed, Eliza, you will
be as welcome to me as either of them."
The wedding took place: the bride and bride-
groom set off for Kent from the church door, and
everybody had as much to say or to hear on the sub-
ject as usual. Elizabeth soon heard from her
friend, and their correspondence was as regular
and frequent as it ever had been; that it should
be equally unreserved was impossible. Elizabeth
could never address her without feeling that all
the comfort of intimacy was over; and though de-
termined not to slacken as a correspondent, it was
for the sake of what had been rather than what
was. Charlotte's first letters were received with a
good deal of eagerness: there could not but be
218 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
curiosity to know how she would speak of her new
home, how she would like Lady Catherine, and
how happy she would dare pronounce herself to be ;
though, when the letters were read, Elizabeth felt
that Charlotte expressed herself on every point
exactly as she might have foreseen. She wrote
cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts, and
mentioned nothing which she could not praise.
The house, furniture, neighborhood, and roads
were all to her taste, and Lady Catherine's be-
havior was most friendly and obliging. It was
Mr. Collins's picture of Hunsford and E-osings
rationally softened; and Elizabeth perceived that
she must wait for her own visit there, to know
the rest.
Jane had already written a few lines to her
sister, to announce their safe arrival in London;
and when she wrote again, Elizabeth hoped it
would be in her power to say something of the
Bingleys. Her impatience for this second letter
was as well rewarded as impatience generally is.
Jane had been a week in town without either seeing
or hearing from Caroline. She accounted for it,
however, by supposing that her last letter to her
friend from Longbourn had by some accident been
lost.
" My aunt," she continued, " is going to-morrow into
that part of the town, and I shall take the opportunity of
calling in Grosvenor Street."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 219
She wrote again when the visit was paid, and
she had seen Miss Bingley.
" I did not think Caroline in spirits," were her words ;
" but she was very glad to see me, and reproached me for
giving her no notice of my coming to London. I was
right, therefore ; my last letter had never reached her.
I inquired after their brother, of course. He was well,
but so much engaged with Mr. Darcy that they scarcely
ever saw him. I found that Miss Darcy was expected to
dinner : I wish I could see her. My visit was not long,
as Caroline and Mrs. Hurst were going out. I dare say
I shall soon see them here."
Elizabeth shook her head over this letter. It
convinced her that accident only conld discover to
Mr. Bingley her sister's being in town.
Four weeks passed away, and Jane saw nothing
of him. She endeavored to persuade herself that
she did not regret it; but she could no longer be
blind to Miss Bingley's inattention. After wait-
ing at home every morning for a fortnight, and in-
venting every evening a fresh excuse for her, the
visitor did at last appear ; but the shortness of her
stay, and yet more the alteration of her manner
would allow Jane to deceive herself no longer.
The letter which she wrote on this occasion to her
sister will prove what she felt: —
My dearest Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of tri-
umphing in her better judgment, at my expense, when I
confess myself to have been entirely deceived in Miss
Bingley's regard for me. But, my dear sister, though
the event has proved you right, do not think me obstinate
220 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
if I still assert that, considering what her behavior was,
my confidence was as natural as your suspicion. I do not
at all comprehend her reason for wishing to be intimate
with me ; but if the same circumstances were to happen
again, I am sure I should be deceived again. Caroline
did not return my visit till yesterday ; and not a note,
not a line, did I receive in the mean time. When she did
come, it was very evident that she had no pleasure in it ;
she made a slight, formal apology for not calling before,
said not a word of wishing to see me again, and was in
every respect so altered a creature that when she went
away I was perfectly resolved to continue the acquaint-
ance no longer. I pity, though I cannot help blaming
her. She was very wrong in singling me out as she did ;
I can safely say that every advance to intimacy began on
her side. But I pity her, because she must feel that she
has been acting wrong, and because I am very sure that
anxiety for her brother is the cause of it. I need not
explain myself further ; and though we know this anxiety
to be quite needless, yet if she feels it, it will easily ac-
count for her behavior to me ; and so deservedly dear as
he is to his sister, whatever anxiety she may feel on his
behalf is natural and amiable. I cannot but wonder,
however, at her having any such fears now, because if he
had at all cared about me, we must have met long, long
ago. He knows of my being in town, I am certain, from
something she said herself ; and yet it would seem, by
her manner of talking, as if she wanted to persuade her-
self that he is really partial to Miss Darcy. I cannot
understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I
should be almost tempted to say that there is a strong
appearance of duplicity in all this. But I will endeavor
to banish every painful thought, and think only of what
will make me happy, your affection, and the invariable
kindness of my dear uncle and aunt. Let me hear from
you very soon. Miss Bingley said something of his never
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 221
returning to Netherfield again, of giving up the house,
but not with any certainty. We had better not mention
it. I am extremely glad that you have such pleasant ac-
counts from our friends at Hunsford. Pray go to see
them, with Sir William and Maria. I am sure you will
be very comfortable there.
Yours, etc.
This letter gave Elizabeth some pain; but her
spirits returned, as she considered that Jane would
no longer be duped, by the sister at least. All ex-
pectation from the brother was now absolutely over.
She would not even wish for any renewal of his at-
tentions. His character sunk on every review of
it ; and, as a punishment for him, as well as a pos-
sible advantage to Jane, she seriously hoped he
might really soon marry Mr. Darcy's sister, as, by
Wickham's account, she would make him abun-
dantly regret what he had thrown away.
Mrs. Gardiner about this time reminded Eliza-
beth of her promise concerning that gentleman,
and required information ; and Elizabeth had such
to send as might rather give contentment to her
aunt than to herself. His apparent partiality had
subsided, his attentions were over, he was the ad-
mirer of some one else. Elizabeth was watchful
enough to see it all, but she could see it and write
of it without material pain. Her heart had been
but slightly touched, and her vanity was satisfied
with believing that she would have been his only
choice, had fortune permitted it. The sudden
222 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
acquisition of ten thousand pounds was the most
remarkable charm of the young lady to whom he
was now rendering himself agreeable; but Eliza-
beth, less clear-sighted perhaps in this case than
in Charlotte's, did not quarrel with him for his
wish of independence. Nothing, on the contrary,
could be more natural ; and while able to suppose
that it cost him a few struggles to relinquish her,
she was ready to allow it a wise and desirable
measure for both, and could very sincerely wish
him happy.
All this was acknowledged to Mrs. Gardiner;
and after relating the circumstances, she thus
went on: —
" I am now convinced, my dear aunt, that I have never
been much in love; for had I really experienced that
pure and elevating passion, I should at present detest his
very name, and wish him all manner of evil. But my
feelings are not only cordial towards him, they are even
impartial towards Miss King. I cannot find out that I
hate her at all, or that I am in the least unwilling to
think her a very good sort of girl. There can be no
love in all this. My watchfulness has been effectual;
and though I should certainly be a more interesting ob-
ject to all my acquaintance, were I distractedly in love
with him, I cannot say that I regret my comparative in-
significance. Importance may sometimes be purchased
too dearly. Kitty and Lydia take his defection much
more to heart than I do. They are young in the ways
of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying convic-
tion that handsome young men must have something to
live on, as well as the plain."
CHAPTER XXVII.
With no greater events than these in the Long-
bourn family, and otherwise diversified by little
beyond the walks to Meryton, sometimes dirty and
sometimes cold, did January and February pass
away. March was to take Elizabeth to Hunsford.
She had not at first thought very seriously of going
thither; but Charlotte, she soon found, was de-
pending on the plan, and she gradually learned to
consider it herself with greater pleasure as well as
greater certainty. Absence had increased her de-
sire of seeing Charlotte again, and weakened her
disgust of Mr. Collins. There was novelty in the
scheme; and as with such a mother and such un-
companionable sisters home could not be faultless,
a little change was not unwelcome for its own sake.
The journey would, moreover, give her a peep at
Jane ; and in short, as the time drew near, she would
have been very sorry for any delay. Everything,
however, went on smoothly, and was finally settled
according to Charlotte's first sketch. She was to
accompany Sir William and his second daughter.
The improvement of spending a night in London
was added in time, and the plan became perfect as
plan could be.
224 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
The only pain was in leaving her father, who
would certainly miss her, and who, when it came
to the point, so little liked her going that he told
her to write to him, and almost promised to answer
her letter.
The farewell between herself and Mr. Wickham
was perfectly friendly; on his side even more.
His present pursuit could not make him forget
that Elizabeth had been the first to excite and to
deserve his attention, the first to listen and to
pity, the first to be admired; and in his manner
of bidding her adieu, wishing her every enjoy-
ment, reminding her of what she was to expect in
Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and trusting their
opinion of her — their opinion of everybody — would
always coincide, there was a solicitude, an interest,
which she felt must ever attach her to him with a
most sincere regard; and she parted from him
convinced that whether married or single, he
must always be her model of the amiable and
pleasing.
Her fellow-travellers the next day were not of a
kind to make her think him less agreeable. Sir
William Lucas and his daughter Maria, a good-
humored girl, but as empty-headed as himself, had
nothing to say that could be worth hearing, and
were listened to with about as much delight as the
rattle of the chaise. Elizabeth loved absurdities,
but she had known Sir William's too long. He
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 225
could tell her nothing new of the wonders of his
presentation and knighthood; and his civilities
were worn out like his information.
It was a journey of only twenty-four miles, and
they began it so early as to be in Gracechurch
Street by noon. As they drove to Mr. Gardiner's
door, Jane was at a drawing-room window watch-
ing their arrival : when they entered the passage,
she was there to welcome them; and Elizabeth,
looking earnestly in her face, was pleased to see it
healthful and lovely as ever. On the stairs were a
troop of little boys and girls, whose eagerness for
their cousin's appearance would not allow them to
wait in the drawing-room, and whose shyness, as
they had not seen her for a twelvemonth, pre-
vented their coming lower. All was joy and kind-
ness. The day passed most pleasantly away, — the
morning in bustle and shopping, and the evening
at one of the theatres.
Elizabeth then contrived to sit by her aunt.
Their first subject was her sister; and she was
more grieved than astonished to hear, in reply to her
minute inquiries, that though Jane always struggled
to support her spirits, there were periods of dejec-
tion. It was reasonable, however, to hope that
they would not continue long. Mrs. Gardiner
gave her the particulars also of Miss Bingley's
visit in Gracechurch Street, and repeated conversa-
tions occurring at different times between Jane
vol. i. — 15
226 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
and herself, which proved that the former had,
from her heart, given up the acquaintance.
Mrs. Gardiner then rallied her niece on Wick-
ham's desertion, and complimented her on bearing
it so well.
"But, my dear Elizabeth/' she added, "what
sort of girl is Miss King? I should be sorry to
think our friend mercenary."
"Pray, my dear aunt, what is the difference, in
matrimonial affairs, between the mercenary and
the prudent motive? Where does discretion end,
and avarice begin? Last Christmas you were
afraid of his marrying me, because it would be
imprudent; and now, because he is trying to get
a girl with only ten thousand pounds, you want to
find out that he is mercenary."
"If you will only tell me what sort of girl Miss
King is, I shall know what to think."
" She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I
know no harm of her."
"But he paid her not the smallest attention till
her grandfather's death made her mistress of this
fortune?"
"No; why should he? If it were not allow
able for him to gain my affections because I had
no money, what occasion could there be for making
love to a girl whom he did not care about, and who
was equally poor? "
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 227
"But there seems indelicacy in directing his
attentions towards her so soon after this event."
"A man in distressed circumstances has not
time for all those elegant decorums which other
people may observe. If she does not object to it,
why should we?"
"Her not objecting does not justify him. It
only shows her being deficient in something her-
self, — sense or feeling."
"Well," cried Elizabeth, "have it as you
choose. He shall be mercenary, and she shall be
foolish."
"No, Lizzy, that is what I do not choose. I I
should be sorry, you know, to think ill of a young
man who has lived so long in Derbyshire."
"Oh, if that is all, I have a very poor opinion
of young men who live in Derbyshire; and their
intimate friends who live in Hertfordshire are not
much better. I am sick of them all. Thank
Heaven! I am going to-morrow where I shall find
a man who has not one agreeable quality, who has
neither manner nor sense to recommend him.
Stupid men are the only ones worth knowing, \
after all." ->
"Take care, Lizzy; that speech savors strongly
of disappointment."
Before they were separated by the conclusion of
the play, she had the unexpected happiness of an
invitation to accompany her uncle and aunt in a
228 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
tour of pleasure which they proposed taking in the
summer.
"We have not quite determined how far it shall
carry us," said Mrs. Gardiner, "but perhaps to
the Lakes."
No scheme could have been more agreeable to
Elizabeth, and her acceptance of the invitation was
most ready and grateful. "My dear, dear aunt,"
she rapturously cried, "what delight, what feli-
city! You give me fresh life and vigor. Adieu
to disappointment and spleen. What are men to
rocks and mountains? Oh, what hours of trans-
port we shall spend! And when we do return, it
shall not be like ether travellers, without being
able to give one accurate idea of anything. We
will know where we have gone, — we will recollect
what we have seen. Lakes, mountains, and rivers
shall not be jumbled together in our imaginations ;
nor, when we attempt to describe any particular
scene, will we begin quarrelling about its relative
situation. Let our first effusions be less insupport-
able than those of the generality of travellers."
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Every object in the next day's journey was new
and interesting to Elizabeth, and her spirits were
in a state of enjoyment; for she had seen her sister
looking so well as to banish all fear for her health,
and the prospect of her northern tour was a con-
stant source of delight.
When they left the high-road for the lane to
Hunsford, every eye was in search of the Parson-
age, and every turning expected to bring it in view.
The paling of Rosings park was their boundary on
one side. Elizabeth smiled at the recollection of
all that she had heard of its inhabitants.
At length the Parsonage was discernible. The
garden sloping to the road, the house standing in
it, the green pales, and the laurel hedge, — every-
thing declared they were arriving. Mr. Collins and
Charlotte appeared at the door; and the carriage
stopped at the small gate, which led by a short
gravel walk to the house, amidst the nods and
smiles of the whole party. In a moment they
were all out of the chaise, rejoicing at the sight
of each other. Mrs. Collins welcomed her friend
with the liveliest pleasure; and Elizabeth was
230 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
more and more satisfied with coming, when she
found herself so affectionately received. She saw
instantly that her cousin's manners were not
altered by his marriage: his formal civility was
just what it had been; and he detained her some
minutes at the gate to hear and satisfy his inqui-
ries after all her family. They were then, with no
other delay than his pointing out the neatness of
the entrance, taken into the house ; and as soon as
they were in the parlor, he welcomed them a second
time, with ostentatious formality, to his humble
abode, and punctually repeated all his wife's offers
of refreshment.
Elizabeth was prepared to see him in his glory;
and she could not help fancying that in displaying
the good proportion of the room, its aspect, and its
furniture, he addressed himself particularly to her,
as if wishing to make her feel what she had lost in
refusing him. But though everything seemed
neat and comfortable, she was not able to gratify
him by any sigh of repentance, and rather looked
with wonder at her friend, that she could have so
cheerful an air with such a companion. When Mr.
Collins said anything of which his wife might
reasonably be ashamed, which certainly was not
seldom, she involuntarily turned her eye on Char-
lotte. Onco or twice she could discern a faint
blush; but in general Charlotte wisely did not
hear. After sitting long enough to admire every
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 231
article of furniture in the room, from the sideboard
to the fender, to give an account of their journey,
and of all that had happened in London, Mr.
Collins invited them to take a stroll in the garden,
which was large and well laid out, and to the culti-
vation of which he attended himself. To work in
his garden was one of his most respectable pleas-
ures; and Elizabeth admired the command of
countenance with which Charlotte talked of the
healthfulness of the exercise, and owned she en-
couraged it as much as possible. Here, leading
the way through every walk and cross walk, and
scarcely allowing them an interval to utter the
praises he asked for, every view was pointed out
with a minuteness which left beauty entirely be-
hind. He could number the fields in every direc-
tion, and could tell how many trees there were in
the most distant clump. But of all the views
which his garden or which the country or the
kingdom could boast, none were to be compared
with the prospect of Rosin gs, afforded by an open-
ing in the trees that bordered the park nearly oppo-
site the front of his house. It was a handsome
modern building, well situated on rising ground.
From his garden, Mr. Collins would have led
them round his two meadows; but the ladies, not
having shoes to encounter the remains of a white
frost, turned back ; and while Sir William accom-
panied him, Charlotte took her sister and friend
232 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
over the house, extremely well pleased, probably,
to have the opportunity of showing it without hei
husband's help. It was rather small, but well
built and convenient j and everything was fitted
up and arranged with a neatness and consistency
of which Elizabeth gave Charlotte all the credit.
When Mr. Collins could be forgotten, there was
really a great air of comfort throughout; and by
Charlotte's evident enjoyment of it, Elizabeth
supposed he must be often forgotten.
She had already learned that Lady Catherine
was still in the country. It was spoken of again
while they were at dinner, when Mr. Collins, join-
ing in, observed, —
"Yes, Miss Elizabeth, you will have the honor
of seeing Lady Catherine de Bourgh on the ensu-
ing Sunday at church, and I need not say you will
be delighted with her. She is all affability and
condescension, and I doubt not but you will be
honored with some portion of her notice when
service is over. I have scarcely any hesitation in
saying that she will include you and my sister
Maria in every invitation with which she honors
us during your stay here. Her behavior to my
dear Charlotte is charming. We dine at Rosings
twice every week, and are never allowed to walk
home. Her Ladyship's carriage is regularly or-
dered for us. I should say, one of her Ladyship's
carriages, for she has several."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 233
"Lady Catherine is a very respectable, sensible
woman, indeed," added Charlotte, "and a most
attentive neighbor."
"Very true, my dear; that is exactly what I
say. She is the sort of woman whom one cannot
regard with too much deference."
The evening was spent chiefly in talking over
Hertfordshire news, and telling again what had
been already written; and when it closed, Eliza-
beth, in the solitude of her chamber, had to medi-
tate upon Charlotte's degree of contentment, to
understand her address in guiding, and composure
in bearing with her husband, and to acknowledge
that it was all done very well. She had also to
anticipate how her visit would pass, — the quiet
tenor of their usual employments, the vexatious
interruptions of Mr. Collins, and the gayeties of
their intercourse with Rosings. A lively imagina-
tion soon settled it all.
About the middle of the next day, as she was in
her room getting ready for a walk, a sudden noise
below seemed to speak the whole house in confu-
sion; and after listening a moment, she heard
somebody running upstairs in a violent hurry, and
calling loudly after her. She opened the door and
met Maria in the landing-place, who, breathless
with agitation, cried out, —
"Oh, my dear Eliza! pray make haste and come
into the dining-room, for there is such a sight to
r
234 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
be seen! I will not tell you what it is. Make
haste, and come down this moment."
Elizabeth asked questions in vain ; Maria would
tell her nothing more ; and down they ran into the
dining-room, which fronted the lane, in quest of
this wonder: it was two ladies, stopping in a low
phaeton at the garden gate.
"And is this all?" cried Elizabeth. "I ex-
pected at least that the pigs were got into the
garden; and here is nothing but Lady Catherine
and her daughter!"
"La! my dear," said Maria, quite shocked at
the mistake, "it is not Lady Catherine. The old
lady is Mrs. Jenkinson, who lives with them.
The other is Miss de Bourgh. Only look at her.
She is quite a little creature. Who would have
thought she could be so thin and small!"
"She is abominably rude to keep Charlotte out
of doors in all this wind. Why does she not
come in?"
"Oh, Charlotte says she hardly ever does. It
is the greatest of favors when Miss de Bourgh
comes in."
"I like her appearance," said Elizabeth, struck
with other ideas. "She looks sickly and cross.
Yes, she will do for him very well. She will
make him a very proper wife."
Mr. Collins and Charlotte were both standing at
the gate in conversation with the ladies j and Sir
PittDE AND PREJUDICE. 235
William, to Elizabeth's high diversion, was sta-
tioned in the coorway, in earnest contemplation of
the greatness before him, and constantly bowing
whenever Miss de Bourgh looked that way.
At length there was nothing more to be said;
the ladies drove on, and the others returned into
the house. Mr. Collins no sooner saw the two
girls than he began to congratulate them on their
good fortune, which Charlotte explained by letting
them know that the whole party was asked to dine
at Rosings the next day.
CHAPTER XXIX.
Mr. Collinses triumph, in consequence of this
invitation, was complete. The power of display-
ing the grandeur of his patroness to his wonder-
ing visitors, and of letting them see her civility
towards himself and his wife, was exactly what he
had wished for ; and that an opportunity of doing
it should be given so soon was such an instance
of Lady Catherine's condescension as he knew not
how to admire enough.
"I confess," said he, "that I should not have
been at all surprised by her Ladyship's asking us
on Sunday to drink tea and spend the evening at
Rosings. I rather expected, from my knowledge
of her affability, that it would happen. But who
could have foreseen such an attention as this?
Who could have imagined that we should receive
an invitation to dine there (an invitation, more-
over, including the whole party) so immediately
after your arrival ?" "I am the less surprised
at what has happened," replied Sir William,
"from that knowledge of what the manners of the
great really are, which my situation in life has al-
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 237
lowed me to acquire. About the court such in-
stances of elegant breeding are not uncommon."
Scarcely anything was talked of the whole day
or next morning but their visit to Rosings. Mr.
Collins was carefully instructing them in what
they were to expect, that the sight of such rooms,
so many servants, and so splendid a dinner might
not wholly overpower them.
When the ladies were separating for the toilette,
he said to Elizabeth, —
" Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin,
about your apparel. Lady Catherine is far from
requiring that elegance of dress in us which be-
comes herself and daughter. I would advise you
merely to put on whatever of your clothes is supe-
rior to the rest; there is no occasion for anything
more. Lady Catherine will not think the worse
of you for being simply dressed. She likes to I
have the distinction of rank preserved."
While they were dressing, he came two or three
times to their different doors, to recommend their
being quick, as Lady Catherine very much ob-
jected to be kept waiting for her dinner. Such
formidable accounts of her Ladyship and her man-
ner of living quite frightened Maria Lucas, who
had been little used to company; and she looked
forward to her introduction at Kosings with as
much apprehension as her father had done to hia
presentation at St. James's.
238 PRIDE AKD PREJUDICE.
As the weather was fine, they had a pleasant
walk of about half a mile across the park. Every
park has its beauty and its prospects ; and Eliza-
beth saw much to be pleased with, though she
could not be in such raptures as Mr. Collins ex-
pected the scene to inspire, and was but slightly
affected by his enumeration of the windows in
front of the house, and his relation of what the
glazing altogether had originally cost Sir Lewis
de Bourgh.
When they ascended the steps to the hall,
Maria's alarm was every moment increasing, i and
even Sir William did not look perfectly calm.
Elizabeth's courage did not fail her. She had
heard nothing of Lady Catherine that spoke her
awful from any extraordinary talents or miracu-
lous virtue, and the mere stateliness of money
and rank she thought she could witness without
trepidation.
From the entrance hall, of which Mr. Collins
pointed out, with a rapturous air, the fine propor-
tion and finished ornaments, they followed the ser-
vants through an antechamber to the room where
Lady Catherine, her daughter, and Mrs. Jenkinson
were sitting. Her Ladyship, with great conde-
scension, arose to receive them; and as Mrs. Col-
lins had settled it with her husband that the
office of introduction should be hers, it was per-
formed in a proper manner, without any of those
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 239
apologies and thanks which he would have thought
necessary.
In spite of having been at St. James's, Sir Wil-
liam was so completely awed by the grandeur sur-
rounding him, that he had but just courage enough
to make a very low bow, and take his seat without
saying a word; and his daughter, frightened al-
most out of her senses, sat on the edge of her
chair, not knowing which way to look. Elizabeth
found herself quite equal to the scene, and could
observe the three ladies before her composedly.
Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman, with
strongly marked features, which might once have
been handsome. Her air was not conciliating,
nor was her manner of receiving them such as to
make her visitors forget their inferior rank. She
was not rendered formidable by silence; but what-
ever she said was spoken in so authoritative a tone
as marked her self-importance, and brought Mr.
Wickham immediately to Elizabeth's mind; and,
from the observation of the day altogether, she
believed Lady Catherine to be exactly what he
had represented.
When, after examining the mother, in whose
countenance and deportment she soon found some
resemblance of Mr. Darcy, she turned^her eyes on
the daughter, she could almost have joined in
Maria's astonishment at her being so thin and
so small. There was neither in figure nor face
240 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
any likeness between the ladies. Miss de Bourgh
was pale and sickly; her features, though not
plain, were insignificant; and she spoke very
little, except in a low voice, to Mrs. Jenkinson,
in whose appearance there was nothing remark-
able, and who was entirely engaged in listening
to what she said, and placing a screen in the
proper direction before her eyes.
After sitting a few minutes, they were all sent
to one of the windows to admire the view, Mr.
Collins attending them to point out its beauties,
and Lady Catherine kindly informing them that it
was much better worth looking at in the summer.
The dinner was exceedingly handsome, and there
were all the servants, and all the articles of plate
which Mr. Collins had promised; and as he had
likewise foretold, he took his seat at the bottom of
the table, by her Ladyship's desire, and looked as
if he felt that life could furnish nothing greater.
He carved and ate and praised with delighted
alacrity; and every dish was commended first by
him, and then by Sir William, who was now
enough recovered to echo whatever his son-in-law
said, in a manner which Elizabeth wondered Lady
Catherine could bear. But Lady Catherine seemed
gratified by their excessive admiration, and gave
most gracious smiles, especially when any dish on
the table proved a novelty to them. The party
did not supply much conversation. Elizabeth was
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 241
ready to speak whenever there was an opening;
but she was seated between Charlotte and Miss de
Bourgh — the former of whom was engaged in
listening to Lady Catherine, and the latter said
not a word to her all dinner-time. Mrs. Jen-
kinson was chiefly employed in watching how
little Miss de Bourgh ate, pressing her to try
some other dish, and fearing she was indisposed.
Maria thought speaking out of the question, and
the gentlemen did nothing but eat and admire.
When the ladies returned to the drawing-room,
there was little to be done but to hear Lady Cath-
erine talk, which she did without any intermission
till coffee came in, delivering her opinion on every
subject in so decisive a manner as proved that she
was not used to have her judgment controverted.
She inquired into Charlotte's domestic concerns
familiarly and minutely, and gave her a great deal
of advice as to the management of them all; told
her how everything ought to be regulated in so
small a family as hers, and instructed her as to
the care of her cows and her poultry. Elizabeth
found that nothing was beneath this great lady's
attention which could furnish her with an occasion
for dictating to others. In the intervals of her
discourse with Mrs. Collins, she addressed a va-
riety of questions to Maria and Elizabeth, but es-
pecially to the latter, of whose connections she
knew the least, and who, she observed to Mrs.
vol. i. — 16
J
242 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
Collins, was a very genteel, pretty kind of girl.
She asked her at different times how many sisters
she had, whether they were older or younger than
herself, whether any of them were likely to be
married, whether they were handsome, where they
had been educated, what carriage her father kept,
and what had been her mother's maiden name?
Elizabeth felt all the impertinence of her ques-
tions, but answered them very composedly. Lady
Catherine then observed, —
" Your father's estate is entailed on Mr. Collins,
I think? For your sake," turning to Charlotte,
"I am glad of it; but otherwise I see no occasion
for entailing estates from the female line. It was
not thought necessary in Sir Lewis de Bourgh's
family. Do you play and sing, Miss Bennet? "
" A little."
"Oh, then — some time or other we shall be
happy to hear you. Our instrument is a capital
one, probably superior to — You shall try it some
day. Do your sisters play and sing?"
" One of them does."
"Why did not you all learn? You ought all
to have learned. The Miss Webbs all play, and
their father has not so good an income as yours.
Do you draw? "
"No, not at all."
" What, none of you? "
one.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 243
"That is very strange. But I suppose you had
no opportunity. Your mother should have taken you
to town every spring for the benefit of masters."
" My mother would have no objection, but my
father hates London."
"Has your governess left you?"
"We never had any governess."
"No governess! How was that possible? Five
daughters brought up at home without a governess !
I never heard of such a thing. Your mother
must have been quite a slave to your education."
Elizabeth could hardly help smiling, as She as-
sured her that had not been the case.
"Then who taught you, who attended to
you? Without a governess you must have been
neglected."
"Compared with some families, I believe we
were; but such of us as wished to learn never
wanted the means. We were always encouraged
to read, and had all the masters that were ne-
cessary. Those who chose to be idle certainly
.might."
"Ay, no doubt: but that is what a governess
will prevent ; and if I had known your mother, I
should have advised her most strenuously to en-
gage one. I always say that nothing is to be done
in education without steady and regular instruc-
tion, and nobody but a governess can give it. It
is wonderful how many families I have been the
244 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
means of supplying in that way. I am always
glad to get a young person well placed out. Four
nieces of Mrs. Jenkinson are most delightfully
situated through my means; and it was but the
other day that I recommended another young per-
son, who was merely accidentally mentioned to
me, and the family are quite delighted with her.
Mrs. Collins, did I tell you of Lady Metcalfe's
calling yesterday to thank me? She finds Miss
Pope a treasure. 'Lady Catherine, ' said she,
'you have given me a treasure. ' Are any of
your yo?;nger sisters out, Miss Bennet?"
"Yes, ma'am, all."
"All! What, all five out at once? Very odd!
And you only the second ! The younger ones out
before the elder are married! Your younger sisters
must be very young? "
"Yes, my youngest is not sixteen. Perhaps
she is full young to be much in company. But
really, ma'am, I think it would be very hard upon
younger sisters that they should not have their
share of society and amusement, because the elder
may not have the means or inclination to marry
early. The last born has as good a right to the
pleasures of youth as the first. And to be kept j
back on such a motive ! I think it would not be
very likely to promote sisterly affection or delicacy
of mind."
" Upon my word," said her Ladyship, " you give
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 245
your opinion very decidedly for so young a person.
Pray, what is your age?"
" With three younger sisters grown up," replied
Elizabeth, smiling, "your Ladyship can hardly
expect me to own it."
Lady Catherine seemed quite astonished at not
receiving a direct answer ; and Elizabeth suspected
herself to be the first creature who had ever dared
to trifle with so much dignified impertinence.
"You cannot be more than twenty, I am sure;
therefore you need not conceal your age."
"I am not one-and-twenty."
When the gentlemen had joined them, and
tea was over, the card-tables were placed. Lady
Catherine, Sir William, and Mr. and Mrs. Collins
sat down to quadrille; and as Miss de Bourgh
chose to play at casino, the two girls had the
honor of assisting Mrs. Jenkinson to make up
her party. Their table was superlatively stupid.
Scarcely a syllable was uttered that did not relate
to the game, except when Mrs. Jenkinson ex-
pressed her fears of Miss de Bourgh's being too
hot or too cold, or having too much or too little
light. A great deal more passed at the other table.
Lady Catherine was generally speaking, — stating
the mistakes of the three others, or relating some
anecdote of herself. Mr. Collins was employed in
agreeing to everything her Ladyship said, thank-
ing her for every fish he won, and apologizing if
246 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
he thought he won too many. Sir William did
not say much. He was storing his memory with
anecdotes and noble names.
When Lady Catherine and her daughter had
played as long as they chose, the tables were
broken up, the carriage was offered to Mrs. Col-
lins, gratefully accepted, and immediately ordered.
The party then gathered round the fire to hear
Lady Catherine determine what weather they were
to have on the morrow. From these instructions
they were summoned by the arrival of the coach;
and with many speeches of thankfulness on Mr.
Collins's side, and as many bows on Sir William's,
they departed. As soon as they had driven from
the door, Elizabeth was called on by her cousin
to give her opinion of all that she had seen at
Rosings, which, for Charlotte's sake, she made
more favorable than it really was. But her commen-
dation, though costing her some trouble, could by
no means satisfy Mr. Collins; and he was very
eoon obliged to take her Ladyship's praise into
his own hands.
CHAPTEE XXX.
Sir William stayed only a week at Hunsford;
but his visit was long enough to convince him
of his daughter's being most comfortably settled,
and of her possessing such a husband and such a
neighbor as were not often met with. While Sir
William was with them, Mr. Collins devoted his
mornings to driving him out in his gig and show-
ing him the country; but when he went away, the
whole family returned to their usual employments,
and Elizabeth was thankful to find that they did
not see more of her cousin by the alteration; for
the chief of the time between breakfast and dinner
was now passed by him either at work in the gar-
den, or in reading and writing, and looking out of
window in his own book-room, which fronted the
road. The room in which the ladies sat was back-
wards. Elizabeth at first had rather wondered
that Charlotte should not prefer the dining-parlor
for common use; it was a better-sized room, and
had a pleasanter aspect : but she soon saw that her
friend had an excellent reason for what she did,
for Mr. Collins would undoubtedly have been much
less in his own apartment had they sat in one
248 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
equally lively; and she gave Charlotte credit for
the arrangement.
From the drawing-room they could distinguish
nothing in the lane, and were indebted to Mr.
Collins for the knowledge of what carriages went
along, and how often especially Miss de Bourgh
drove by in her phaeton, which he never failed
coming to inform them of, though it happened
almost every day. She not unfrequently stopped
at the Parsonage, and had a few minutes' conver-
sation with Charlotte, but was scarcely ever pre-
vailed on to get out.
Very few days passed in which Mr. Collins did
not walk to Rosings, and not many in which his
wife did not think it necessary to go likewise; and
till Elizabeth recollected that there might be other
family livings to be disposed of, she could not un-
derstand the sacrifice of so many hours. Now and
then they were honored with a call from her Lady-
ship, and nothing escaped her observation that was
passing in the room during these visits. She ex-
amined into their employments, looked at their
work, and advised them to do it differently; found
fault with the arrangement of the furniture, or
detected the housemaid in negligence; and if she
accepted any refreshment, seemed to do it only for
the sake of finding out that Mrs. Collins's joints of
meat were too large for her family.
Elizabeth soon perceived that though this great
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: 249
lady was not in the commission of the peace for
the county, she was a most active magistrate in
her own parish, the minutest concerns of which
were carried to her by Mr. Collins ; and whenever
any of the cottagers were disposed to be quarrel-
some, discontented, or too poor, she sallied forth
into the village to settle their differences, silence
their complaints, and scold them into harmony
and plenty.
The entertainment of dining at Rosings was
repeated about twice a week; and allowing for
the loss of Sir William, and there being only one
card-table in the evening, every such entertain-
ment was the counterpart of the first. Their other
engagements were few; as the style of living of
the neighborhood in general was beyond the Col-
linses' reach. This, however, was no evil to
Elizabeth, and upon the whole she spent her time
comfortably enough: there were half hours of
pleasant conversation with Charlotte, and the
weather was so fine for the time of year that she
had often great enjoyment out of doors. Her
favorite walk, and where she frequently went
while the others were calling on Lady Catherine,
was along the open grove which edged that side of
the park where there was a nice sheltered path,
which no one seemed to value but herself, and
where she felt beyond the reach of Lady Catherine's
curiosity.
250 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
In this quiet way the first fortnight of her visit
soon passed away. Easter was approaching, and
the week preceding it was to bring an addition to
the family at Rosings, which in so small a circle
must be important. Elizabeth had heard, soon
after her arrival, that Mr. Darcy was expected
there in the course of a few weeks ; and though
there were not many of her acquaintance whom
she did not prefer, his coming would furnish one
comparatively new to look at in their Rosings
parties, and she might be amused in seeing how
hopeless Miss Bingley's designs on him were, by
his behavior to his cousin, for whom he was evi-
dently destined by Lady Catherine; who talked of
his coming with the greatest satisfaction, spoke
of him in terms of the highest admiration, and
seemed almost angry to find that he had already
been frequently seen by Miss Lucas and herself.
His arrival was soon known at the Parsonage;
for Mr. Collins was walking the whole morning
within view of the lodges opening into Hunsford
Lane, in order to have the earliest assurance of it;
and after making his bow as the carriage turned
into the park, hurried home with the great intel-
ligence. On the following morning he hastened
to E-osings to pay his respects. There were two
nephews of Lady Catherine to require them, for
Mr. Darcy had brought with him a Colonel Fitz-
william, the younger son of his uncle, Lord ;
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 251
and, to the great surprise of all the party, when
Mr. Collins returned, the gentlemen accompanied
him. Charlotte had seen them from her husband's
room, crossing the road, and immediately running
into the other, told the girls what an honor they
might expect, adding, —
"I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of
civility. Mr. Darcy would never have come so
soon to wait upon me."
Elizabeth had scarcely time to disclaim all right
to the compliment, before their approach was an-
nounced by the door-bell, and shortly afterwards
the three gentlemen entered the room. Colonel
Fitzwilliam, who led the way, was about thirty;
not handsome, but in person and address most
truly the gentleman. Mr. Darcy looked just as
he had been used to look in Hertfordshire; paid
his compliments, with his usual reserve, to Mrs.
Collins; and whatever might be his feelings to-
wards her friend, met her with every appearance
of composure. Elizabeth merely courtesied to him,
without saying a word.
Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversation
directly, with the readiness and ease of a well-bred
man, and talked very pleasantly; but his cousin,
after having addressed a slight observation on the
house and garden to Mrs. Collins, sat for some
time without speaking to anybody. At length,
however, his civility was so far awakened as to
252 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
inquire of Elizabeth after the health of her family.
She answered him in the usual way ; and after a
moment's pause added, —
" My eldest sister has been in town these three
months. Have you never happened to see her
there?" \
She was perfectly sensible that he never had,
but she wished to see whether he would betray
any consciousness of what had passed between the
Bingleys and Jane ; and she thought he looked a
little confused as he answered that he had never
been so fortunate as to meet Miss Bennet. The
subject was pursued no further, and the gentlemen
soon afterwards went away.
CHAPTER XXXI.
Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners were very much
admired at the Parsonage, and the ladies all
felt that he must add considerably to the pleasure
of their engagements at Rosings. It was some
days, however, before they received any invitation
thither, for while there were visitors in the house
they could not be necessary; and it was not till
Easter-day, almost a week after the gentlemen's
arrival, that they were honored by such an atten-
tion, and then they were merely asked on leaving
church to come there in the evening. For the
last week they had seen very little of either Lady
Catherine or her daughter. Colonel Fitzwilliam
had called at the Parsonage more than once dur-
ing the time, but Mr. Darcy they had only seen
at church.
The invitation was accepted, of course, and at
a proper hour they joined the party in Lady
Catherine's drawing-room. Her Ladyship received
them civilly, but it was plain that their company
was by no means so acceptable as when she could
get nobody else; and she was, in fact, almost en-
grossed by her nephews, speaking to them, espe-
254 PRIDE AftD PREJUDICE.
cially to Darcy, much more than to any other
person in the room.
Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed really glad to see
them: anything was a welcome relief to him at
Rosings; and Mrs. Collins's pretty friend had,
moreover, caught his fancy very much. He now
seated himself hy her, and talked so agreeably of
Kent and Hertfordshire, of travelling and staying
at home, of new hooks and music, that Elizabeth
had never been half so well entertained in that
room before; and they conversed with so much
spirit and flow as to draw the attention of Lady
Catherine herself, as well as of Mr. Darcy. His
eyes had been soon and repeatedly turned towards
them with a look of curiosity ; and that her Lady-
ship after a while shared the feeling, was more
openly acknowledged, for she did not scruple to
call out, —
"What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam?
What is it you are talking of?. What are you
telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is."
"We are speaking of music, madam," said he,
when no longer able to avoid a reply.
"Of music! Then pray speak aloud. It is, of
all subjects, my delight. I must have my share in
the conversation, if you are speaking of music.
There are few people in England, I suppose, who
have more true enjoyment of music than myself,
or a better natural taste. If I had ever learned,
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 255
I should have heen a great proficient. And so
would Anne, if her health had allowed her to
apply. I am confident that she would have per-
formed delightfully. How does Georgiana get
on, Darcy?"
Mr. Darcy spoke with affectionate praise of his
sister's proficiency.
" I am very glad to hear such a good account of
her," said Lady Catherine; "and pray tell her
from me, that she cannot expect to excel, if she
does not practise a great deal."
"I assure you, madam," he replied, "that she
does not need such advice. She practises very
constantly."
"So much the better. It cannot be done too
much; and when I next write to her, I shall
charge her not to neglect it on any account. I
often tell young ladies that no excellence in music
is to be acquired without constant practice. I
have told Miss Bennet several times that she will
never play really well unless she practises more;
and though Mrs. Collins has no instrument, she is
very welcome, as I have often told her, to come
to Eosings every day, and play on the pianoforte
in Mrs. Jenkinson's room. She would be in
nobody's way, you know, in that part of the
house."
Mr. Darcy looked a little ashamed of his aunt's
ill-breeding, and made no answer.
)
0r £ t>^
256 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
When coffee was over, Colonel Fitzwilliam re-
minded Elizabeth of having promised to play to
him; and she sat down directly to the instrument.
He drew a chair near her. Lady Catherine lis-
tened to half a song, and then talked as before to
her other nephew; till the latter walked away
from her, and moving with his usual deliberation
towards the pianoforte, stationed himself so as to
command a full view of the fair performer's coun-
tenance. Elizabeth saw what he was doing, and
at the first convenient pause turned to him with
an arch smile, and said, —
" You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by com-
ing in all this state to hear me. But I will not
be alarmed, though your sister does play so well.
There is a stubbornness about me that never can
bear to be frightened at the will of others. My
(courage always rises with every attempt to intimi-
date me."
"I shall not say that you are mistaken," he
replied, " because you could not really believe me
to entertain any design of alarming you; and I
have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long
enough to know that you find great enjoyment in
occasionally professing opinions which, in fact, are
not your own."
Elizabeth laughed heartily at this picture of
herself, and said to Colonel Fitzwilliam: "Your
cousin will give you a very pretty notion of me,
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 257
and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am
particularly unlucky in meeting with a person so
well able to expose my real character, in a part of
the world where I had hoped to pass myself off
with some degree of credit. Indeed, Mr. Darcy,
it is very ungenerous in you to mention all that
you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire, —
and, give me leave to say, very impolitic too, — for
it is provoking me to retaliate, and such things
may come out as will shock your relations to
hear."
"I am not afraid of you," said he, smilingly.
" Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him
of," cried Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I should like
to know how he behaves among strangers."
"You shall hear, then — but prepare for some-
thing very dreadful. The first time of my ever
seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know, was
at a ball, — and at this ball what do you think
he did? He danced only four dances! I am sorry
to pain you, but so it was. He danced only four
dances, though gentlemen were scarce ; and, to my
certain knowledge, more than one young lady was
sitting down in want of a partner. Mr. Darcy,
you cannot deny the fact."
"I had not at that time the honor of know-
ing any lady in the assembly beyond my own
party. "
"True; and nobody can ever be introduced in
vol. i. — 17
258
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
V*
/>
v
a ball-room. Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam, what do
I play next? My fingers wait your orders."
" Perhaps," said Darcy, "I should have jadged
better had I sought an introduction, but I am ill-
qualified to recommend myself to strangers.''
" Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?"
said Elizabeth, still addressing Colonel Fitz-
william. " Shall we ask him why a man of sense
and education, and who has lived in the world, is
^iU-qualified to recommend himself to strangers?"
n^ V I can answer your question," said Fitzwilliam,
t-jf^" without applying to him. It is because he will
^ not give himself the trouble."
"I certainly have not the talent which some
people possess," said Darcy, "of conversing easily
with those I have never seen before. I cannot
catch their tone of conversation, or appear inter-
ested in their concerns, as I often see done."
" My fingers," said Elizabeth, " do not move over
this instrument in the masterly manner which I
see so many women's do. They have not the same
force or rapidity, and do not produce the same ex-
pression. But then I have always supposed it to
be my own fault, — because I would not take the
trouble of practising. It is not that I do not
believe my fingers as capable as any other woman's
of superior execution."
Darcy smiled and said: "You are perfectly
right. You have employed your time much better.
.-!■■
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 259
No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you
can think anything wanting. We neither of us
perform to strangers."
Here they were interrupted by Lady Catherine,
who called out to know what they were talking
of. Elizabeth immediately began playing again.
Lady Catherine approached, and after listening
for a few minutes, said to Darcy, —
"Miss Bennet would not play at all amiss if
she practised more, and could have the advantage
of a London master. She has a very good notion
of fingering, though her taste is not equal to
Anne's. Anne would have been a delightful per-
former, had her health allowed her to learn."
Elizabeth looked at Darcy to see how cordially
he assented to his cousin's praise : but neither at
that moment nor at any other could she discern
any symptom of love; and from the whole of his
behavior to Miss de Bourgh she derived this com-
fort for Miss Bingley, that he might have been
just as likely to marry her, had she been his
relation.
Lady Catherine continued her remarks on Eliza-
beth's performance, mixing with them many in-
structions on execution and taste. Elizabeth
received them with all the forbearance of civility;
and at the request of the gentlemen remained at
the instrument till her Ladyship's carriage was
ready to take them all home.
CHAPTER XXXII.
Elizabeth was sitting by herself the next morn-
ing, and writing to Jane, while Mrs. Collins and
Maria were gone on business into the village, when
she was startled by a ring at the door, the certain
signal of a visitor. As she had heard no carriage,
she thought it not unlikely to be Lady Catherine ;
and under that apprehension was putting away
her half-finished letter, that she might escape all
impertinent questions, when the door opened, and
to her very great surprise Mr. Darcy, and Mr.
Darcy only, entered the room.
He seemed astonished too on finding her alone,
and apologized for his intrusion by letting her
know that he had understood all the ladies to be
within.
They then sat down, and when her inquiries
after Rosings were made, seemed in danger of
sinking into total silence. It was absolutely
necessary, therefore, to think of something; and
in this emergency recollecting when she had seen
him last in Hertfordshire, and feeling curious to
know what he would say on the subject of their
hasty departure, she observed, —
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 261
"How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield
last November, Mr. Darcy! It must have been a
most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see you
all after him so soon; for if I recollect right, he
went but the day before. He and his sisters were
well, I hope, when you left London? "
"Perfectly so, I thank you."
She found that she was to receive no other an
swer; and after a short pause, added, —
"I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley
has not much idea of ever returning to Netherfield
again?"
"I have never heard him say so; but it is
probable that he may spend very little of his time
there in future. He has many friends, and he is
at a time of life when friends and engagements are
continually increasing."
"If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it
would be better for the neighborhood that he
should give up the place entirely, for then we
might possibly get a settled family there. But,
perhaps, Mr. Bingley did not take the house so
much for the convenience of the neighborhood as
for his own, and we must expect him to keep or
quit it on the same principle."
"I should not be surprised," said Darcy, "if
he were to give it up as soon as any eligible pur-
chase offers."
Elizabeth made no answer. She was afraid of
262 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
talking longer of his friend; and having nothing
else to say, was now determined to leave the
trouble of finding a subject to him.
He took the hint and soon began with: "This
seems a very comfortable house. Lady Catherine,
I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins
first came to Hunsford."
"I believe she did, — and I am sure she could
not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful
object."
"Mr. Collins appears very fortunate in his
choice of a wife."
"Yes, indeed; his friends may well rejoice in
his having met with one of the very few sensible
women who would have accepted him, or have
made him happy if they had. My friend has an
excellent understanding, — though I am not cer-
tain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as
the wisest thing she ever did. She seems per-
fectly happy, however; and in a prudential light
it is certainly a very good match for her."
"It must be very agreeable to her to be settled
within so easy a distance of her own family and
friends.,,
"An easy distance do you call it? It is nearly
fifty miles."
"And what is fifty miles of good road? Little
more than half a day's journey. Yes, I call it a
very easy distance."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 263
" I should never have considered the distance as
one of the advantages of the match," cried Eliza-
beth. "I should never have said Mrs. Collins
was settled near her family."
"It is a proof of your own attachment to Hert-
fordshire. Anything beyond the very neighbor-
hood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear
far."
As he spoke, there was a sort of smile, which
Elizabeth fancied she understood; he must be sup-
posing her to be thinking of Jane and Netherfield,
and she blushed as she answered, —
" I do not mean to say that a woman may not be
settled too near her family. The far and the near
must be relative, and depend on many varying
circumstances. Where there is fortune to make
the expense of travelling unimportant, distance
becomes no evil. But that is not the case here.
Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income,
but not such a one as will allow of frequent jour-
neys; and I am persuaded my friend would not
call herself near her family under less than half
the present distance."
Mr. Darcy drew his chair a little towards her,
and said: "You cannot have a right to such very
strong local attachment. You cannot have been
always at Longbourn."
Elizabeth looked surprised. The gentleman ex-
perienced some change of feeling; he drew back
264 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and
glancing over it, said in a colder voice, —
"Are you pleased with Kent?"
A short dialogue on the subject of the country
ensued, on either side calm and concise, and
§eon put an end to by the entrance of Charlotte
and her sister, just returned from their walk.
The tete-a-tete surprised them. Mr. Darcy related
the mistake which had occasioned his intruding
on Miss Bennet, and after sitting a few minutes
longer without saying much to anybody, went
away.
"What can be the meaning of this?" said
Charlotte, as soon as he was gone. "My dear
j Eliza, he must be in love with you, or he would
/never have called on us in this familiar way."
But when Elizabeth told of his silence, it did
not seem very likely, even to Charlotte's wishes,
to be the case; and after various conjectures, they
could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from
the difficulty of finding anything to do, which was
the more probable from the time of year. All
field sports were over. Within doors there was
Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard-table, but
' gentlemen cannot be always within doors ; and in
the nearness of the Parsonage, or the pleasantness
of the walk to it, or of the people who lived in it,
the two cousins found a temptation from this
period of walking thither almost every day. They
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 265
called at various times of the morning, sometimes
separately, sometimes together, and now and then
accompanied by their aunt. It was plain to them
all that Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he had
pleasure in their society, — a persuasion which
of course recommended him still more ; and Eliza-
beth was reminded by her own satisfaction in
being with him, as well as by his evident admi-
ration, of her former favorite, George Wickham;
and though in comparing them she saw there was
less captivating softness in Colonel Fitzwilliam's
manners, she believed he might have the best
informed mind.
But why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Par-
sonage it was more difficult to understand. It
could not be for society, as he frequently sat there
ten minutes together without opening his lips;
and when he did speak, it seemed the effect of
necessity rather than of choice, — a sacrifice to
propriety, not a pleasure to himself. He seldom
appeared really animated. Mrs. Collins knew not
what to make of him. Colonel Eitzwilliam's occa-
sionally laughing at his stupidity proved that he was,
generally different, which her own knowledge of
him could not have told her; and as she would
have liked to believe this change the effect of love,
and the object of that love her friend Eliza, she
set herself seriously to work to find it out: she
watched him whenever they were at E-osings and
266 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
whenever lie came to Hunsford, but without much
success. He certainly looked at her friend a great
deal, but the expression of that look was dis-
putable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze; but
she often doubted whether there were much admi-
ration in it, and sometimes it seemed nothing but
absence of mind.
She had once or twice suggested to Elizabeth
the possibility of his being partial to her, but Eliz-
abeth always laughed at the idea; and Mrs. Col-
lins did not think it right to press the subject,
from the danger of raising expectations which
might only end in disappointment; for in her
opinion it admitted not of a doubt that all her
friend's dislike would vanish if she could suppose
him to be in her power.
In her kind schemes for Elizabeth, she some-
times planned her marrying Colonel Fitzwilliam.
He was, beyond comparison, the pleasantest man :
he certainly admired her, and his situation in life
was most eligible; but, to counterbalance these
advantages, Mr. Darcy had considerable patronage
in the church, and his cousin could have none
at all.
/
CHAPTER XXXIII.
More than once did Elizabeth, in her ramble
within the park, unexpectedly meet Mr. Darcy.
She felt all the perverseness of the mischance that
should bring him where no one else was brought;
And, to prevent its ever happening again, took
jare to inform him, at first, that it was a favorite
haunt of hers. How it could occur a second time,
therefore, *was very odd! Yet it did, and even a
third. It seemed like wilful ill-nature or a volun-
tary penance; for on these occasions it was not
merely a few formal inquiries and an awkward
pause and then away, but he actually thought it
necessary to turn back and walk with her. He
never said a great deal, nor did she give herself
the trouble of talking or of listening much ; but it
struck her in the course of their third rencounter
that he was asking some odd unconnected ques-
tions, — about her pleasure in being at Hunsford,
her love of solitary walks, and her opinion of Mr.
and Mrs. Collins's happiness; and that in speak-
ing of Rosings, and her not perfectly understand-
ing the house, he seemed to expect that whenever
she came into Kent again, she would be staying
268 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
there too. His words seemed to imply it. Could
he have Colonel Fitzwilliam in his thoughts?
She supposed, if he meant anything, he must
mean an allusion to what might arise in that quar-
ter. It distressed her a little, and she was quite
glad to find herself at the gate in the pales
opposite the Parsonage.
She was engaged one day, as she walked, in re-
perusing Jane's last letter, and dwelling on some
passages which proved that Jane had not written
in spirits, when, instead of being again surprised
by Mr. Darcy, she saw, on looking up, that
Colonel Fitzwilliam was meeting her. Putting
away the letter immediately, and forcing a smile,
she said, —
"I did not know before that you ever walked
this way."
"I have been making the tour of the park," he
replied, "as I generally do every year, and in-
tended to close it with a call at the Parsonage.
Are you going much farther?"
"No; I should have turned in a moment."
And accordingly she did turn, and they walked
towards the Parsonage together.
"Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?"
said she.
"Yes, — if Darcy does not put it off again.
But I am at his disposal. He arranges the busi-
ness just as he pleases."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 269
"And if not able to please himself in the ar-
rangement, he has at least great pleasure in the
power oi choice. I do not know anybody who
seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he
likes than Mr. Darcy."
"He likes to have his own way very well,"
replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. "But so we all do.
It is only that he has better means of having it
than many others, because he is rich, and many
others are poor. I speak feelingly. A younger
son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and
dependence."
" In my opinion, the younger son of an earl
can know very little of either. Now, seriously,
what have you ever known of self-denial and de-
pendence? When have you been prevented by
want of money from going wherever you chose, or
procuring anything you had a fancy for?"
"These are home questions, — and perhaps I
cannot say that I have experienced many hardships
of that nature. But in matters of greater weight
I may suffer from the want of money. Younger
sons cannot marry where they like."
"Unless where they like women of fortune,
which I think they very often do."
"Our habits of expense make us too dependent,
and there are not many in my rank of life who
can afford to marry without some attention to
money."
270' PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
" Is this, " thought Elizabeth, " meant for me? "
and she colored at the idea; but recovering her-
self, said in a lively tone: " And pray, what is
the usual price of an earl's younger son? Unless
the elder brother is very sickly, I suppose you
would not ask above fifty thousand pounds."
He answered her in the same style, and the
subject dropped. To interrupt a silence which
might make him fancy her affected with what
had passed, she soon afterwards said, —
"I imagine your cousin brought you down with
him chiefly for the sake of having somebody at
his disposal. I wonder he does not marry, to
secure a lasting convenience of that kind. But,
perhaps, his sister does as well for the present;
and as she is under his sole care, he may do what
he likes with her."
"No," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, "that is an
advantage which he must divide with me. I am
joined with him in the guardianship of Miss Darcy."
"Are you, indeed? And pray, what sort of a
guardian do you make ? Does your charge give
you much trouble ? Young ladies of her age are
sometimes a little difficult to manage; and if she
has the true Darcy spirit, she may like to have
her own way."
As she spoke, she observed him looking at her
earnestly; and the manner in which he immedi-
ately asked her why she supposed Miss Darcy
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 271
likely to give them any uneasiness, convinced her
that she had somehow or other got pretty near the
truth. She directly replied, —
"You need not be frightened- I never heard
any harm of her; and I dare say she is one of
the most tractable creatures in the world. She
is a very great favorite with some ladies of my
acquaintance, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley. I
think I have heard you say that you know them."
"I know them a little. Their brother is a
pleasant, gentlemanlike man, — he is a great friend
of Darcy's."
"Oh, yes," said Elizabeth, dryly; "Mr. Darcy
is uncommonly kind to Mr. Bingley, and takes a
prodigious deal of care of him."
"Care of him! Yes, I really believe Darcy
does take care of him in those points where he
most wants care. From something that he told
me in our journey hither, I have reason to think
Bingley very much indebted to him. But I ought
to beg his pardon, for I have no right to suppose
that Bingley was the person meant. It was all
conjecture."
"What is it you mean?"
"It is a circumstance which Darcy of course
could not wish to be generally known, because if
it were to get round to the lady's family, it would
be an unpleasant thing."
"You may depend upon my not mentioning it."
272 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
"And remember that I have not much reason
for supposing it to be Bingley. What he told me
was merely this: that he congratulated himself
on having lately saved a friend from the incon-
veniences of a most imprudent marriage, but with-
out mentioning names or any other particulars;
and I only suspected it to be Bingley, from be-
lieving him the kind of young man to get into
a scrape of that sort, and from knowing them to
have been together the whole of last summer."
"Did Mr. Darcy give you his reasons for this
interference? "
"I understood that there were some very strong
objections against the lady?"
"And what arts did he use to separate them? M
"He did not talk to me of his own arts," said
Fitzwilliam, smiling. "He only told me what I
have now told you."
Elizabeth made no answer, and walked on, her
heart swelling with indignation. After watching
her a little, Fitzwilliam asked her why she was
so thoughtful.
"I am thinking of what you have been telling
me," said she. "Your cousin's conduct does not
suit my feelings. Why was he to be the judge? "
"You are rather disposed to call his interfer-
ence officious?"
"I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to de-
cide on the propriety of his friend's inclination}
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 273
or why, upon his own judgment alone, he was to
determine and direct in what manner that friend
was to be happy. But," she continued, recollect-
ing herself, "as we know none of the particulars,
it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be sup-
posed that there was much affection in the case."
"That is not an unnatural surmise," said Fitz-
william; "but it is lessening the honor of my
cousin's triumph very sadly."
This was spoken jestingly, but it appeared to
her so just a picture of Mr. Darcy that she would
not trust herself wifch an answer; and therefore,
abruptly changing the conversation, talked on in-
different matters till they reached the Parsonage.
There, shut into her own room, as soon as their
visitor left them, she could think without inter-
ruption of all that she had heard. It was not to
be supposed that any other people could be meant
than those with whom she was connected. There
could not exist in the world two men over whom
Mr. Darcy could have such boundless influence.
That he had been concerned in the measures taken
to separate Mr. Bingley and Jane, she had never
doubted; but she had always attributed to Miss
Bingley the principal design and arrangement
of them. If his own vanity, however, did not
mislead him, he was the cause — his pride and
caprice were the cause — of all that Jane had
suffered, and still continued to suffer. He had
vol. i. — 18
274 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
ruined for a while every hope of happiness for the
most affectionate, generous heart in the world;
and no one could say how lasting an evil he might
have inflicted.
"There were some very strong objections against
the lady," were Colonel Fitzwilliam's words; and
these strong objections probably were, her hav-
ing one uncle who was a country attorney, and
another who was in business in London.
"To Jane herself," she exclaimed, "there
could be no possibility of objection, — all loveli-
ness and goodness as she is! Her understanding
excellent, her mind improved, and her manners
captivating. Neither could anything be urged
against my father, who, though with some pecu-
liarities, has abilities which Mr. Darcy himself
need not disdain, and respectability which he will
probably never reach." When she thought of her
mother, indeed, her confidence gave way a little ;
but she would not allow that any objections there
had material weight with Mr. Darcy, whose pride,
she was convinced, would receive a deeper wound
from the want of importance in his friend's con-
nections than from their want of sense; and she
was quite decided, at last, that he had been partly
governed by this worst kind of pride, and partly
by the wish of retaining Mr. Bingley for his
sister.
The agitation and tears which the subject occa
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 275
sioned brought on a headache; and it grew so
much worse towards evening that, added to her
unwillingness to see Mr. Darcy, it determined
her not to attend her cousins to Rosings, where
they were engaged to drink tea. Mrs. Collins,
seeing that she was really unwell, did not press
her to go, and as much as possible prevented her
husband from pressing her; but Mr. Collins could
not conceal his apprehension of Lady Catherine's
being rather displeased by her staying at home.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE
PART SECOND
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PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
CHAPTER I.
HEN they were gone, Elizabeth, as if
intending to exasperate herself as much
as possible against Mr. Darcy, chose
for her employment the examination of
all the letters which Jane had written to her since
her being in Kent. They contained no actual
complaint, nor was there any revival of past occur-
rences, or any communication of present suffering.
But in all, and in almost every line of each, there
was a want of that cheerfulness which had been
used to characterize her style, and which, proceed-
ing from the serenity of a mind at ease with itself,
a ad kindly disposed towards every one, had been
scarcely ever clouded. Elizabeth noticed every
sentence conveying the idea of uneasiness, with an
attention which it had hardly received on the first
perusal. Mr. Darcy's shameful boast of what
6 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
misery he had been able to inflict gave her a
keener sense of her sister's sufferings. It was
some consolation to think that his visit to Rosings
was to end on the day after the next, and a still
greater that in less than a fortnight she should
herself be with Jane again, and enabled to con-
tribute to the recovery of her spirits, by all that
affection could do.
She could not think of Darcy's leaving Kent
without remembering that his cousin was to go
with him; but Colonel Fitzwilliam had made it
clear that he had no intentions at all, and, agree-
able as he was, she did not mean to be unhappy
about him.
While settling this point, she was suddenly
roused by the sound of the door-bell; and her
spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its
being Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who had once
before called late in the evening, and might now
come to inquire particularly after her. But this
idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very
differently affected, when, to her utter amazement,
she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the room. In a hur-
ried manner he immediately began an inquiry after
her health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing
that she were better. She answered him with cold
civility. He sat down for a few moments, and
then getting up walked about the room. Eliza-
beth was surprised, but said not a word. After a
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 7
silence of several minutes, he came towards her in
an agitated manner, and thus began : —
"In vain have I struggled. It will not do.
My feelings will not be repressed. You must
allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and
love you."
Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression.
She stared, colored, doubted, and was silent.
This he considered sufficient encouragement, and
the avowal of all that he felt and had long felt for
her immediately followed. He spoke well; but
there were feelings besides those of the heart to
be detailed, and he was not more eloquent on the
subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of
her inferiority, of its being a degradation, of the
family obstacles which judgment had always op-
posed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth
which seemed due to the consequence he was
wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend
his suit.
In spite of her deeply rooted dislike, she could
not be insensible to the compliment of such a
man's affection; and though her intentions did not
vary for an instant, she was at first sorry for the
pain he was to receive, till, roused to resentment
by his subsequent language, she lost all compas-
sion in anger. She tried, however, to compose
herself to answer him with patience, when he
should have done. He concluded with represent-
8 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
ing to her the strength of that attachment which
in spite of all his endeavors he had found impos-
sible to conquer, and with expressing his hope
that it would now be rewarded by her acceptance
of his hand. As he said this, she could easily see
that he had no doubt of a favorable answer. He
spoke of apprehension and anxiety, but his counte-
nance expressed real security. Such a circum-
stance could only exasperate further ; and when he
ceased, the color rose into her cheeks, and she
said, —
"In such cases as this it is, I believe, the
established mode to express a sense of obligation
for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they
may be returned. It is natural that obligation
should be felt; and if I could feel gratitude, I
would now thank you. But I cannot, — I have
never desired your good opinion, and you have
certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am
sorry to have occasioned pain to any one. It has
been most unconsciously done, however, and I
hope will be of short duration. The feelings which
you tell me have long prevented the acknowledg-
ment of your regard can have little difficulty in
overcoming it after this explanation.' '
Mr. Darcy, who was leaning against the mantel-
piece with his eyes fixed on her face, seemed to
catch her words with no less resentment than sur-
prise. His complexion became pale with anger.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 9
and the disturbance of his mind was visible in
every feature. He was struggling for the appear-
ance of composure, and would not open his lips
till he believed himself to have attained it. The
pause was to Elizabeth's feelings dreadful. At
length, in a voice of forced calmness, he said, —
"And this is all the reply which I am to have
the honor of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish
to be informed why, with so little endeavor at
civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small
importance."
"I might as well inquire," replied she, "why,
with so evident a design of offending and insulting
me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against
your will, against your reason, and even against
your character? Was not this some excuse for in-
civility, if I was uncivil? But I have other provo-
cations. You know I have. Had not my own
feelings decided against you, had they been indif-
ferent, or had they even been favorable, do you
think that any consideration would tempt me to
accept the man who has been the means of ruining,
perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved
sister?"
As she pronounced these words, Mr. Darcy
changed color; but the emotion was short, and he
listened without attempting to interrupt her while
she continued, —
"I have every reason in the world to think ill
10 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
of you. No motive can excuse the unjust and un-
generous part you acted there. You dare not,
you cannot deny that you have been the principal,
if not the only means of dividing them from each
other, — of exposing one to the censure of the world
for caprice and instability, the other to its derision
for disappointed hopes, and involving them both
in misery of the acutest kind."
She paused, and saw with no slight indignation
that he was listening with an air which proved
him wholly unmoved by any feeling of remorse.
He even looked at her with a smile of affected
incredulity.
"Can you deny that you have done it?" she
repeated.
With assumed tranquillity he then replied: "I
have no wish of denying that I did everything in
my power to separate my friend from your sister,
or that I rejoice in my success. Towards him I
have been kinder than towards myself."
Elizabeth disdained the appearance of noticing
this civil reflection; but its meaning did not es-
cape, nor was it likely to conciliate her.
"But it is not merely this affair," she con-
tinued, "on which my dislike is founded. Long
before it had taken place, my opinion of you was
decided. Your character was unfolded in the re-
cital which I received many months ago from Mr.
Wickham. On this subject, what can you have to
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 11
say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you
here defend yourself, or under what misrepresen-
tation can you here impose upon others?"
" You take an eager interest in that gentleman's
concerns,' ' said Darcy, in a less tranquil tone and
with a heightened color.
"Who that knows what his misfortunes have
been can help feeling an interest in him?"
"His misfortunes! " repeated Darcy, contempt-
uously,— "yes, his misfortunes have been great
indeed." — I
"And of your infliction," cried Elizabeth, with /
energy. "You have reduced him to his present
state of poverty, — comparative poverty. You have
withheld the advantages which you must know to
have been designed for him. You have deprived
the best years of his life of that independence
which was no less his due than his desert. You
have done all this ; and yet you can treat the mention
of his misfortunes with contempt and ridicule."
"And this," cried Darcy, as he walked with
quick steps across the room, " is your opinion of
me! This is the estimation in which you hold
me ! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My
faults according to this calculation are heavy in-
deed! \But, perhaps," added he, stopping in his
walk, and turning towards her, "these offences
might have been overlooked, had not your pride
been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples
12 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
that had long prevented my forming any serious
design^ These bitter accusations might have been
suppressed, had I, with greater policy, concealed
my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of
my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed incli-
nation; by reason, by reflection, by everything.
But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor
am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They
were natural and just. Could you expect me to re-
joice in the inferiority of your connections, — to
congratulate myself on the hope of relations whose
condition in life is so decidedly beneath my
own?"
Elizabeth felt herself growing more angry every
moment; yet she tried to the utmost to speak with
composure when she said, —
" You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose
that the mode of your declaration affected me in
any other way than as it spared me the concern
which I might have felt in refusing you, had you
behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner. "
She saw him start at this; but he said nothing,
and she continued, —
" You could not have made me the offer of your
hand in any possible way that would have tempted
me to accept it."
Again his astonishment was obvious; and he
looked at her with an expression of mingled in
credulity and mortification. She went on, —
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 13
"From the very beginning, from the first mo-
ment, I may almost say, of my acquaintance
with you, your manners, impressing me with the
fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and
your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were
such as to form that groundwork of disapprobation
on which succeeding events have built so immova-
ble a dislike; and I had not known you a month
before I felt that you were the last man in the
world whom I could ever be prevailed on to
marry.' '
" You have said quite enough, madam. I per-
fectly comprehend your feelings, and have now
only to be ashamed of what my own have been.
Forgive me for having taken up so much of your
time, and accept my best wishes for your health
and happiness.' '
And with these words he hastily left the room,
and Elizabeth heard him the next moment open
the front door and quit the house. The tumult of
her mind was now painfully great. She knew not
how to support herself, and, from actual weakness,
sat down and cried for half an hour. Her aston-
ishment, as she reflected on what had passed, was
increased by every review of it. That she should
receive an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy; that
he should have been in love with her for so many
months, — so much in love as to wish to marry her
in spite of all the objections which had made him
14 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
prevent his friend's marrying her sister, and which
must appear at least with equal force in his own
case, — was almost incredible ! It was gratifying to
have inspired unconsciously so strong an affection.
But his pride, his abominable pride, his shameless
avowal of what he had done with respect to Jane;
his unpardonable assurance in acknowledging,
though he could not justify it, and the unfeeling
manner in which he had mentioned Mr. Wickham,
his cruelty towards whom he had not attempted to
deny, soon overcame the pity which the considera-
tion of his attachment had for a moment excited.
She continued in very agitating reflections till
the sound of Lady Catherine's carriage made her
feel how unequal she was to encounter Charlotte's
observation, and hurried her away to her room.
CHAPTER II.
Elizabeth awoke the next morning to the same
thoughts and meditations which had at length
closed her eyes. She could not yet recover from
the surprise of what had happened: it was im-
possible to think of anything else; and, totally
indisposed for employment, she resolved soon after
breakfast to indulge herself in air and exercise.
She was proceeding directly to her favorite walk,
when the recollection of Mr. Darcy's sometimes
coming there stopped her, and instead of entering
the park, she turned up the lane which led her
farther from the turnpike road. The park paling
was still the boundary on one side, and she soon
passed one of the gates into the ground.
After walking two or three times along that
part of the lane, she was tempted, by the pleasant
ness of the morning, to stop at the gates and look
into the park. The five weeks which she had now
passed in Kent had made a great difference in the
country, and every day was adding to the verdure
of the early trees. She was on the point of con-
tinuing her walk, when she caught a glimpse of a
gentleman within the sort of grove which edged
16 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
the park: he was moving that way; and fearful
of its being Mr. Darcy, she was directly retreat-
ing. But the person who advanced was now near
enough to see her, and stepping forward with
eagernftw^ ^onounced her name. She had turned
away; but on hearing herself called, though in a
voice which proved it to be Mr. Darcy, she moved
again towards the gate. He had by that time
reached it also; and holding out a letter, which
she instinctively took, said with a look of haughty
composure: UI have been walking in the grove
some time, in the hope of meeting you. Will you
do me the honor of reading that letter? P and then,
with a slight bow, turned again into the planta-
tion, and was soon out of sight.
With no expectation of pleasure, but with the
strongest curiosity, Elizabeth opened the letter,
and to her still increasing wonder, perceived an
envelope containing two sheets of letter paper,
written quite through, in a very close hand. The
envelope itself was likewise full. Pursuing her
way along the lane, she then began it. It was
dated from Rosings, at eight o'clock in the morn-
ing, and was as follows : —
Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by
the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those
sentiments, or renewal of those offers, which were last
night so disgusting to you. I write without any inten-
tion of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling o»
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 17
wishes which for the happiness of both cannot be too
soon forgotten ; and the effort which the formation and
the perusal of this letter must occasion should have been
spared, had not my character required it to be written
and read. You must therefore pardon the freedom
with which I demand your attention ; your feelings, I
know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I demand it of your
justice.
Two offences of a very different nature, and by no
means of equal magnitude, you last night laid to my
charge. The first mentioned was that, regardless of the
sentiments of either, I had detached Mr. Bingley from
your sister ; and the other, that I had, in defiance of
various claims, in defiance of honor and humanity, ruined
the immediate prosperity and blasted the prospects of
Mr. Wickham. Wilfully and wantonly to have thrown
off the companion of my youth, the acknowledged fa-
vorite of my father, a young man who had scarcely any
other dependence than on our patronage, and who had
been brought up to expect its exertion, would be a de-
pravity to which the separation of two young persons
whose affection could be the growth of only a few weeks
could bear no comparison. But from the severity of that
blame which was last night so liberally bestowed, respect-
ing each circumstance, I shall hope to be in future se-
cured, when the following account of my actions and
their motives has been read. If in the explanation of
them which is due to myself I am under the necessity of
relating feelings which may be offensive to yours, I can
only say that I am sorry. The necessity must be obeyed,
and further apology would be absurd.
I had not been long in Hertfordshire before I saw, in
common with others, that Bingley preferred your elder
sister to any other young woman in the country. But it
was not till the evening of the dance at Netherfield
VOL. II. — 2
18 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
that I had any apprehension of his feeling a serious at-
tachment. I had often seen him in love before. At that
ball, while I had the honor of dancing with you, I was
first made acquainted, by Sir William Lucas's accidental
information, that Bingley's attentions to your sister had
given rise to a general expectation of their marriage.
He spoke of it as a certain event, of which the time alone
could be undecided. From that moment I observed my
friend's behavior attentively ; and I could then perceive
that his partiality for Miss Bennet was beyond what I
had ever witnessed in him. Your sister I also watched.
Her look and manners were open, cheerful, and engaging
as ever, but without any symptom of peculiar regard ;
and I remained convinced, from the evening's scrutiny,
that though she received his attentions with pleasure,
she did not invite them by any participation of senti-
ment. If you have not been mistaken here, I must
have been in an error. Your superior knowledge of
your sister must make the latter probable. If it be so,
if I have been misled by such error to inflict pain on
her, your resentment has not been unreasonable. But
I shall not scruple to assert that the serenity of your
sister's countenance and air was such as might have given
the most acute observer a conviction that, however amia-
ble her temper, her heart was not likely to be easily
touched. That I was desirous of believing her indifferent
is certain ; but I will venture to say that my investiga-
tions and decisions are not usually influenced by my
hopes or fears. I did not believe her to be indifferent
because I wished it; I believed it on impartial convic-
tion, as truly as I wished it in reason.
My objections to the marriage were not merely those
which I last night acknowledged to have required the
utmost force of passion to put aside in my own case ; the
want of connection could not be so great an evil to my
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 19
friend as to me. But there were other causes of repug-
nance, — causes which, though still existing, and existing
to an equal degree in both instances, I had myself en-
deavored to forget, because they were not immediately
before me. These causes must be stated, though briefly.
The situation of your mother's family, though objectiona-
ble, was nothing in comparison of that total want of pro-
priety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by
herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally
even by your father, — pardon me, it pains me to offend
you. But amidst your concern for the defects of your near-
est relations, and your displeasure at this representation of
them, let it give you consolation to consider that to have
conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like
censure is praise no less generally bestowed on you and
your eldest sister than it is honorable to the sense and dis-
position of both. I will only say, further, that from what
passed that evening my opinion of all parties was con-
firmed, and every inducement heightened, which could
have led me before to preserve my iriend from what I
esteemed a most unhappy connection. He left Nether-
field for London on the day following, as you, I am cer-
tain, remember, with the design of soon returning.
The part which I acted is now to be explained. His
sisters' uneasiness had been equally excited with my own :
our coincidence of feeling was soon discovered ; and, alike
sensible that no time was to be lost in detaching their
brother, we shortly resolved on joining him directly in
London. We accordingly went ; and there I readily
engaged in the office of pointing out to my friend the
certain evils of such a choice. I described and enforced
them earnestly. But however this remonstrance might
have staggered or delayed his determination, I do not
suppose that it would ultimately have prevented the mar-
riage, had it not been seconded by the assurance, which
20 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
I hesitated not in giving, of your sister's io4iff££ence/ He
had before believed her to return his affection with sin-
cere, if not with equal regard. But Bingley has great
natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my
judgment than on his own. To convince him, therefore,
that he had deceived himself was no very difficult point.
To persuade him against returning into Hertfordshire,
when that conviction had been given, was scarcely the
work of a moment. I cannot blame myself for having
done thus much. There is but one part of my conduct,
in the whole affair, on which I do not reflect with satis-
faction; it is that I condescended to adopt the measures
of art so far as to conceal from him your sister's being in
town. I knew it myself, as it was known to Miss Bing-
ley; but her brother is even yet ignorant of it. That
they might have met without ill consequence is, perhaps,
probable; but his regard did not appear to me enough
extinguished for him to see her without some danger.
Perhaps this concealment, this disguise, was beneath me.
It is done, however, and it was done for the best. On thig
subject I have nothing more to say, no other apology to
offer. If I have wounded your sister's feelings, it was
unknowingly done; and though the motives which gov-
erned me may to you very naturally appear insufficient,
I have not yet learned to condemn them.
With respect to that other, more weighty accusation,
of having injured Mr. Wickham, I can only refute it by
laying before you the whole of his connection with my
family. Of what he has particularly accused me I am
ignorant; but of the truth of what I shall relate I can
summon more than one witness of undoubted veracity.
Mr. Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, who
had for many years the management of all the Pemberley
estates, and whose good conduct in the discharge of his
trust naturally inclined my father to be of service to him ;
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 21
and on George Wickham, who was his godson, his kind-
ness was therefore liberally bestowed. My father sup-
ported him at school, and afterwards at Cambridge ; most
important assistance, as his own father, always poor from
the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to
give him a gentleman's education. My father was not
only fond of this young man's society, whose manners
were always engaging, he had also the highest opinion of
him, and hoping the church would be his profession, in-
tended to provide for him in it. As for myself, it is
many, many years since I first began to think of him in
a very different manner. The vicious propensities, the
want of principle, which he was careful to guard from
the knowledge of his best friend, could not escape the
observation of a young man of nearly the same age with
himself, and who had opportunities of seeing him in
unguarded moments, which Mr. Darcy could not have.
Here again I shall give you pain, — to what degree you
only can tell. But whatever may be the sentiments which
Mr. Wickham has created, a suspicion of their nature
shall not prevent me from unfolding his real character.
It adds even another motive. My excellent father died
about five years ago ; and his attachment to Mr. Wick-
ham was to the last so steady that in his will he particu-
larly recommended it to me to promote his advancement
in the best manner that his profession might allow, and
if he took orders, desired that a valuable family living
might be his as soon as it became vacant. There was
also a legacy of one thousand pounds. His own father
did not long survive mine ; and within half a year from
these events Mr. Wickham wrote to inform me that, hav-
ing finally resolved against taking orders, he hoped I
should not think it unreasonable for him to expect some
more immediate pecuniary advantage, in lieu of the pre-
ferment, by which he could not be benefited. He had
22 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
some intention, he added, of studying the law, and I must
be aware that the interest of one thousand pounds would
be a very insufficient support therein. I rather wished
than believed him to be sincere ; but, at any rate, was
perfectly ready to accede to his proposal. I knew that
Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman. The busi-
ness was therefore soon settled. He resigned all claim
to assistance in the church, were it possible that he could
ever be in a situation to receive it, and accepted in re-
turn three thousand pounds. All connection between us
seemed now dissolved. I thought too ill of him to invite
him to Pemberley, or admit his society in town. In town,
I believe, he chiefly lived, but his studying the law was a
mere pretence ; and being now free from all restraint, his
life was a life of idleness and dissipation. For about
three years I heard little of him ; but on the decease of
the incumbent of the living which had been designed for
him, he applied to me again by letter for the presenta-
tion. His circumstances, he assured me, and I had no
difficulty in believing it, were exceedingly bad. He had
found the law a most unprofitable study, and was now
absolutely resolved on being ordained, if I would present
him to the living in question, — of which he trusted there
could be little doubt, as he was well assured that I had
no other person to provide for, and I could not have for-
gotten my revered father's intentions. You will hardly
blame me for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or
for resisting every repetition of it. His resentment was
in proportion to the distress of his circumstances, — and
he was doubtless as violent in his abuse of me to others
as in nis reproaches to myself. After this period every
appearance of acquaintance was dropped. How he lived,
I know not. But last summer he was again most pain-
fully obtruded on my notice.
I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 23
to forget myself, and which no obligation less than the
present should induce me to unfold to any human being.
Having said thus much, I feel no doubt of your secrecy.
My sister, who is more than ten years my junior, was left
to the guardianship of my mother's nephew, Colonel Fitz-
william, and myself. About a year ago, she was taken
from school, and an establishment formed for her in Lon-
don ; and last summer she went with the lady who pre-
sided over it to Ramsgate ; and thither also went Mr.
Wickham, undoubtedly by design ; for there proved to
have been a prior acquaintance between him and Mrs.
Younge, in whose character we were most unhappily de-
ceived ; and by her connivance and aid he so far recom-
mended himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart
retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a
child, that she was persuaded to believe herself in love
and to consent to an elopement. She was then but fif-
teen, which must be her excuse ; and after stating her
imprudence, I am happy to add that I owed the knowl-
edge of it to herself. I joined them unexpectedly a day
or two before the intended elopement ; and then Georgi-
ana, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending
a brother whom she almost looked up to as a father, ac-
knowledged the whole to me. You may imagine what I
felt and how I acted. Regard for my sister's credit and
feelings prevented any public exposure; but I wrote to
Mr. Wickham, who left the place immediately, and Mrs.
Younge was of course removed from her charge. Mr.
Wickham's chief object was unquestionably my sister's
fortune, which is thirty thousand pounds ; but I cannot
help supposing that the hope of revenging himself on me
was a strong inducement. His revenge would have been
complete indeed.
This, madam, is a faithful narrative of every event in
which we have been concerned together; and if you do
24 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
not absolutely reject it as false, you will, I hope, acquit
me henceforth of cruelty towards Mr. Wickham. 1 know
not in what manner, under what form of falsehood, he
has imposed on you ; but his success is not perhaps to be
wondered at, ignorant as you previously were of every-
thing concerning either. Detection could not be in your
power, and suspicion certainly not in your inclination.
Tou may possibly wonder why all this was not told you
ast night. But I was not then master enough of myself
to know what could or ought to be revealed. For the
truth of everything here related, I can appeal more par-
ticularly to the testimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who,
from our near relationship and constant intimacy, and
still more as one of the executors of my father's will, has
been unavoidably acquainted with every particular of
these transactions. If your abhorrence of me should
make my assertions valueless, you cannot be prevented
by the same cause from confiding in my cousin ; and that
there may be the possibility of consulting him, I shall en-
deavor to find some opportunity of putting this letter in
your hands in the course of the morning. I will only
add, God bless you.
Fitzwilliam Darcy.
CHAPTER III.
If Elizabeth, when Mr. Darcy gave her the letter,
did not expect it to contain a renewal of his offers,
she had formed no expectation at all of its con-
tents. But such as they were, it may be well sup-
posed how eagerly she went through them, and
what a contrariety of emotion they excited. Her
feelings as she read were scarcely to be denned.
With amazement did she first understand that he
believed any apology to be in his power; and
steadfastly was she persuaded that he could have
no explanation to give which a just sense of shame
would not conceal. With a strong prejudice
against everything he might say, she began his
account of what had happened at Netherfield. She
read with an eagerness which hardly left her power
of comprehension; and from impatience of know-
ing what the next sentence might bring, was in-
capable of attending to the sense of the one before
her eyes. His belief of her sister's insensibility
she instantly resolved to be false ; and his account
of the real, the worst objections to the match
made her too angry to have any wish of doing him
justice. He expressed no regret for what he had
26 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
done which satisfied her; his style was not peni-
tent, but haughty. It was all pride and insolence.
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, apprehen-
sion, 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.
In this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts
that could rest on nothing, she walked on; but it
would not do : in half a minute the letter was un-
folded again; and collecting herself as well as she
could, she again began the mortifying perusal of
all that related to Wickham, and commanded her-
self so far as to examine the meaning of every
sentence. The account of his connection with the
Pemberley family was exactly what he had related
himself; and the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy,
though she had not before known its extent,
PKIDE AND PREJUDICE. 27
agreed equally well with his own words. So far
each recital confirmed the other; but when she
came to the will, the difference was great. What
Wickham had said of the living was fresh in her
memory; and as she recalled his very words, it
was impossible not to feel that there was gross
duplicity on one side or the other, and for a few
moments she flattered herself that her wishes did
not err. But when she read and re-read, with the
closest attention, the particulars immediately fol-
lowing of Wickham's resigning all pretensions to
the living, of his receiving in lieu so considerable
a sum as three thousand pounds, again was she
forced to hesitate. She put down the letter,
weighed every circumstance with what she meant
to be impartiality, deliberated on the probability
of each statement, but with little success. On
both sides it was only assertion. Again she read
on. But every line proved more clearly that the
affair, which she had believed it impossible that
any contrivance could so represent as to render
Mr. Darcy's conduct in it less than infamous, was
capable of a turn which must make him entirely
blameless throughout the whole.
The extravagance and general profligacy which
he scrupled not to lay to 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
28 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
militia, in which he had engaged at the persuasion
of the young man who, on meeting him accident-
ally in town, had there renewed a slight acquaint-
ance. 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
her power, she had never felt a wish of inquiring.
His countenance, voice, and manner had estab-
lished him at once in the possession of every
virtue. She tried to recollect some instance of
goodness, some distinguished trait of integrity or
benevolence, that might rescue him from the at-
tacks of Mr. Darcy ; or at least, by the predominance
of virtue, atone for those casual errors under which
she would endeavor to class what Mr. Darcy had
described as the idleness and vice of many years'
continuance. But no such recollection befriended
her. She could see him instantly before her, in
every charm of air and address ; but she could re-
member no more substantial good than the general
approbation of the neighborhood, and the regard
which his social powers had gained him in the
mess. After pausing on this point a considerable
while, she once more continued to read. But,
alas! the story which followed, of his designs on
Miss Darcy, received some confirmation from what
had passed between Colonel Fitzwilliam and her-
self only the morning before; and at last she was
referred for the truth of every particular to Colonel
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 29
Fitzwilliam himself, — from whom she had previ-
ously received the information of his near concern
in all his cousin's affairs, and whose character she
had no reason to question. At one time she had
almost resolved on applying to him; but the idea
was checked by the awkwardness of the applica-
tion, and at length wholly banished by the con-
viction that Mr. Darcy would never have hazarded
such a proposal, if he had not been well assured
of his cousin's corroboration.
She perfectly remembered everything that had
passed in conversation between Wickham and her-
self in their first evening at Mr. Philips's. Many
of his expressions were still fresh in her memory.
She was now struck with the impropriety of such
communications to a stranger, and wondered it
had escaped her before. She saw the indelicacy of
putting himself forward as he had done, and the
inconsistency of his professions with his conduct.
She remembered that he had boasted of having no
fear of seeing Mr. Darcy, — that Mr. Darcy might
leave the country, but that he should stand his
ground; yet he had avoided the Netherfield ball
the very next week. She remembered, also, that
till the Netherfield family had quitted the coun-
try, he had told his story to no one but herself,
but that after their removal it had been every-
where discussed; that he had then no reserves, no
scruples in sinking Mr. Darcy's character, though
m
30 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
he had assured her that respect for the father
would always prevent his exposing the son.
[How differently did everything now appear in
hich he was concerned! His attentions to Miss
King were now the consequence of views solely
and hatefully mercenary; and the mediocrity of
her fortune proved no longer the moderation of his
wishes, but his eagerness to grasp at anything.
His behavior to herself could now have had no
tolerable motive : he had either been deceived with
regard to her fortune, or had been gratifying his
vanity by encouraging the preference which she
believed she had most incautiously shown. Every
lingering struggle in his favor grew fainter and
fainter; and in further justification of Mr. Darcy,
she could not but allow that Mr. Bingley, when
questioned by Jane, had long ago asserted his
blamelessness in the affair; that, proud and re-
pulsive as were his manners, she had never, in
the whole course of their acquaintance, — an ac-
quaintance which had latterly brought them much
together, and given her a sort of intimacy with
his ways, — seen anything that betrayed him to
be unprincipled or unjust, anything that spoke
him of irreligious or immoral habits; that among
his own connections he was esteemed and valued,
—5 that even Wickham had allowed him merit as a
brother, and that she had often heard him speak
so affectionately of his sister as to prove^him capa-
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 31
ble of some amiable feeling; that had his actions
been what Wickham represented them, so gross a
violation of everything right could hardly have
been concealed from the world; and that friend-
ship between a person capable of it and such an
amiable man as Mr. Bingley was incomprehensible.
She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of
neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think,
without feeling that she had been blind, partial,
prejudiced, absurd.
"How despicably have I acted! " she cried, —
"I, who have prided myself on my discernment, —
I, who have valued myself on my abilities, who
have often disdained the generous candor of my
sister, and gratified my vanity in useless or blame-
less distrust ! How humiliating is this discovery !
Yet how just a humiliation ! Had I been in love,
I could not have been more wretchedly blind.
But vanity, not love, has been my folly. Pleased
with the preference of one, and offended by the
neglect of the other, on the very beginning of' our
acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and
ignorance, and driven reason away where either
was concerned. Till this moment I never knew
myself."
From herself to Jane, from Jane to Bingley, her
thoughts were in a line which soon brought to her
recollection that Mr. Darcy's explanation there
had appeared very insufficient; and she read it
32 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
again. Widely different was the effect of a second
perusal. How could she deny that credit to his
assertions, in one instance, which she had heen
obliged to give in the other? He declared himself
to have been totally unsuspicious of her sister's
attachment; and she could not help remembering
what Charlotte's opinion had always been. Neither
could she deny the justice of his description of
Jane. She felt that Jane's feelings, though fer-
vent, were little displayed, and that there was a
constant complacency in her air and manner, not
often united with great sensibility.
When she came to that part of the letter in
which her family were mentioned in terms of
euch mortifying yet merited reproach, her sense
of shame was severe. The justice of the charge
struck her too forcibly for denial ; and the circum-
stances to which he particularly alluded, as having
passed at the Netherfield ball, and as confirming
all his first disapprobation, could not have made a
stronger impression on his mind than on hers.
The compliment to herself and her sister was
not unfelt. It soothed, but it could not console
her for the contempt which had been thus self-
attracted by the rest of her family, and as she
considered that Jane's disappointment had, in
fact, been the work of her nearest relations, and
reflected how materially the credit of both must
be hurt by such impropriety of conduct, she felt
PRIDE ANT PREJUDICE. 33
depressed beyond anything she had ever known
before.
After wandering along the lane for two hours,
giving way to every variety of thought, reconsider-
ing events, determining probabilities, and recon-
ciling herself, as well as she could, to a change so
sudden and so important, fatigue, and a recollec-
tion of her long absence, made her at length return
home ; and she entered the house with the wish of
appearing cheerful as usual, and the resolution of
repressing such reflections as must make her unfit
for conversation.
She was immediately told that the two gentle-
men from Rosings had each called during her
absence, — Mr. Darcy, only for a few minutes, to
take leave ; but that Colonel Fitzwilliam had been
sitting with them at least an hour, hoping for her
return, and almost resolving to walk after her till
she could be found. Elizabeth could but just
affect concern in missing him; she really rejoiced
at it. Colonel Fitzwilliam was no longer an ob-
ject. She could think only of her letter.
vol. n. — 3
CHAPTER IV.
The two gentlemen left Rosings the next morn-
ing; and Mr. Collins having been in waiting near
the lodges, to make them his parting obeisance,
was able to bring home the pleasing intelligence
of their appearing in very good health, and in
as tolerable spirits as could be expected after
the melancholy scene so lately gone through at
Rosings. To Rosings he then hastened to console
Lady Catherine and her daughter; and on his re-
turn brought back, with great satisfaction, a mes-
sage from her Ladyship, importing that she felt
herself so dull as to make her very desirous of
having them all to dine with her.
Elizabeth could not see Lady Catherine without
recollecting that, had she chosen it, she might by
this time have been presented to her as her future
niece; nor could she think, without a smile, of
what her Ladyship's indignation would have been.
"What would she have said? How would she
have behaved? " were questions with which she
amused herself.
Their first subject was the diminution of the
Rosings' party. "I assure you, I feel it exceed-
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 35
ingly, " said Lady Catherine. "I believe nobody
feels the loss of friends so much as I do. But I
am particularly attached to these young men, and
know them to be so much attached to me ! They
were excessively sorry to go ! But so they always
are. The dear Colonel rallied his spirits tolerably
till just at last; but Darcy seemed to feel it most
acutely, — more, I think, than last year. His at-
tachment to Rosings certainly increases."
Mr. Collins had a compliment and an allusion
to throw in here, which were kindly smiled on by
the mother and daughter.
Lady Catherine observed, after dinner, that
Miss Bennet seemed out of spirits; and immedi-
ately accounting for it herself, by supposing that
she did not like to go home again so soon, she
added, —
" But if that is the case, you must write to your
mother to beg that you may stay a little longer.
Mrs. Collins will be very glad of your company, I
am sure."
" I am much obliged to your Ladyship for your
kind invitation," replied Elizabeth; "but it is
not in my power to accept it. I must be in town
next Saturday."
"Why, at that rate, you will have been here
only six weeks. I expected you to stay two
months. I told Mrs. Collins so before you came.
There can be no occasion for your going so soon.
36 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
Mrs. Bennet could certainly spare you for .Miother
fortnight."
"But my father cannot. He wrote last week to
hurry my return.' '
" Oh, your father, of course, may spare you, if
your mother can. Daughters are never of so much
consequence to a father. And if you will stay
another month complete, it will be in my power
to take one of you as far as London, for I am
going there early in June, for a week; and as
Dawson does not object to the barouche-box, there
will be very good room for one of you — and, in-
deed, if the weather should happen to be cool, I
should not object to taking you both, as you are
neither of you large."
"You are all kindness, madam; but I believe
we must abide by our original plan."
Lady Catherine seemed resigned. "Mrs. Col-
lins, you must send a servant with them. You
know I always speak my mind, and I cannot bear
the idea of two young women travelling post by
themselves. It is highly improper. You must
contrive to send somebody. I have the greatest
dislike in the world to that sort of thing. Young
women should always be properly guarded and at-
tended, according to their situation in life. When
my niece Georgiana went to Ramsgate last sum-
mer, I made a point of her having two men-ser-
vants go with her. Miss Darcy, the daughter of
i
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 37
Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, and Lady Anne, could
not have appeared with propriety in a different
manner. I am excessively attentive to all those
things. You must send John with the young
ladies, Mrs. Collins. I am glad it occurred to me
to mention it; for it would really be discreditable
to you to let them go alone.' '
"My uncle is to send a servant for us."
"Oh! Your uncle! He keeps a man-servant,
does he? I am very glad you have somebody who
thinks of those things. Where shall you change
horses? Oh, Bromley, of course. If you mention
my name at the Bell, you will be attended to."
Lady Catherine had many other questions to
ask respecting their journey; and as she did not
answer them all herself, attention was necessary,
which Elizabeth believed to be lucky for her, or,
with a mind so occupied, she might have forgotten
where she was. Reflection must be reserved for
solitary hours: whenever she was alone, she gave
way to it as the greatest relief; and not a day
went by without a solitary walk, in which she
might indulge in all the delight of unpleasant
recollections.
Mr. Darcy' s letter she was in a fair way of soon
knowing by heart. She studied every sentence;
and her feelings towards its writer were at times
widely different. When she remembered the style
of his address, she was still full of indignation:
38 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
but when she considered how unjustly she had
condemned and upbraided him, her anger was
turned against herself; and his disappointed feel-
ings became the object of compassion. His at-
tachment excited gratitude, his general character
respect : but she could not approve him ; nor could
she for a moment repent her refusal, or feel the
slightest inclination ever to see him again. In
her own past behavior there was a constant source
of vexation and regret ; and in the unhappy defects
of her family, a subject of yet heavier chagrin.
They were hopeless of remedy. Her father, con-
tented with laughing at them, would never exert
himself to restrain the wild giddiness of his young-
est daughters; and her mother, with manners so
far from right herself, was entirely insensible of
the evil. Elizabeth had frequently united with
Jane in an endeavor to check the imprudence of
Catherine and Lydia; but while they were sup-
ported by their mother's indulgence, what chance
could there be of improvement? Catherine, weak-
spirited, irritable, and completely under Lydia' s
guidance, had been always affronted by their ad-
vice; and Lydia, self-willed and careless, would
scarcely give them a hearing. They were ignorant,
idle, and vain. While there was a» officer in
Meryton, they would flirt with him; and while
Meryton was within a walk of Longbourn, ibey
would be going there forever.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 39
Anxiety on Jane's behalf was another prevail-
ing concern; and Mr. Darcy's explanation, by
restoring Bingley to all her former good opinion,
heightened the sense of what Jane had lost. His
affection was proved to have been sincere, and his
conduct cleared of all blame, unless any could
attach to the implicitness of his confidence in his
friend. How grievous then was the thought that, of
a situation so desirable in every respect, so replete
with advantage, so promising for happiness, Jane
had been deprived by the folly and indecorum of
her own family!
When to these recollections was added the
development of Wickham's character, it may be
easily believed that the happy spirits which had
seldom been depressed before were now so much
affected as to make it almost impossible for her
to appear tolerably cheerful.
Their engagements at E-osings were as frequent
during the last week of her stay as they had been
at first. The very last evening was spent there;
and her Ladyship again inquired minutely into
the particulars of their journey, gave them direc-
tions as to the Best method of packing, and was so
urgent on the necessity of placing gowns in the
only right way, that Maria thought herself obliged,
on her return, to undo all the work of the morning,
and pack her trunk afresh.
40 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
When they parted, Lady Catherine, with great
condescension, wished them a good journey, and
invited them to come to Hunsford again next year;
and Miss de Bourgh exerted herself so far as to
courtesy and hold out her hand to both.
CHAPTER V.
On Saturday morning Elizabeth and Mr. Collins
met for breakfast a few minutes before the others
appeared; and he took the opportunity of paying
the parting civilities which he deemed indispensa-
bly necessary.
" I know not, Miss Elizabeth, " said he, " whether
Mrs. Collins has yet expressed her sense of your
kindness in coming to us; but I am very certain
you will not leave the house without receiving her
thanks for it. The favor of your company has
been much felt, I assure you. We know how
little there is to tempt any one to our humble
abode. Our plain manner of living, our small
rooms, and few domestics, and the little we see of
the world, must make Hunsford extremely dull to
a young lady like yourself; but I hope you will
believe us grateful for the condescension, and that
we have done everything in our power to prevent
your spending your time unpleasantly.' '
Elizabeth was eager with her thanks and assur-
ances of happiness. She had spent six weeks with
great enjoyment; and the pleasure of being with
Charlotte, and the kind attentions she had received,
42 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
must make her feel the obliged. Mr. Collins was
gratified; and with a more smiling solemnity-
replied, —
"It gives me the greatest pleasure to hear that
you have passed your time not disagreeably. We
have certainly done our best ; and most fortunately
having it in our power to introduce you to very
superior society, and from our connection with
Rosings, the frequent means of varying the humble
home scene, I think we may flatter ourselves that
your Hunsford visit cannot have been entirely irk-
some. Our situation with regard to Lady Cathe-
rine's family is, indeed, the sort of extraordinary
advantage and blessing which few can boast. You
see on what a footing we are. You see how con-
tinually we are engaged there. In truth, I must
acknowledge that with all the disadvantages of
this humble parsonage, I should not think any
one abiding in it an object of compassion, while
they are sharers of our intimacy at Rosings."
Words were insufficient for the elevation of his
feelings; and he was obliged to walk about the
room, while Elizabeth tried to unite civility and
truth in a few short sentences.
" You may, in fact, carry a very favorable report
of us into Hertfordshire, my dear cousin. I flatter
myself, at least, that you will be able to do so.
Lady Catherine's great attentions to Mrs. Collins
you have been a daily witness of; and altogether
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 43
I trust it does not appear that your friend has
drawn an unfortunate — But on this point it will
be as well to be silent. Only let me assure you,
my dear Miss Elizabeth, that I can from my heart
most cordially wish you equal felicity in marriage.
My dear Charlotte and I have but one mind and
one way of thinking. There is in everything a
most remarkable resemblance of character and ideas
between us. We seem to have been designed for
each other. "
Elizabeth could safely say that it was a great
happiness where that was the case, and with equal
sincerity could add that she firmly believed and
rejoiced in his domestic comforts. She was not
sorry, however, to have the recital of them inter-
rupted by the entrance of the lady from whom they
sprang. Poor Charlotte! it was melancholy to
leave her to such society ! But she had chosen it
with her eyes open ; and though evidently regret-
ting that her visitors were to go, she did not seem
to ask for compassion. Her home and her house-
keeping, her parish and her poultry, and all
their dependent concerns had not yet lost their
charms.
At length the chaise arrived, the trunks were
fastened on, the parcels placed within, and it was
pronounced to be ready. After an affectionate
parting between the friends, Elizabeth was at-
tended to the carriage by Mr. Collins ; and as they
4A PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
walked down the garden, lie was commissioning
her with his best respects to all her family, not
forgetting his thanks for the kindness he had
received at Longbourn in the winter, and his com-
pliments to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, though un-
known. He then handed her in, Maria followed,
and the door was on the point of being closed,
when he suddenly reminded them, with some con-
sternation, that they had hitherto forgotten to
leave any message for the ladies of Rosings.
"But," he added, "you will of course wish to
have your humble respects delivered to them, with
your grateful thanks for their kindness to you
while you have been here."
Elizabeth made no objection : the door was then
allowed to be shut, and the carriage drove off.
"Good gracious!" cried Maria, after a few
minutes' silence; "it seems but a day or two since
we first came, and yet how many things have
happened! "
"A great many, indeed," said her companion,
with a sigh.
"We have dined nine times at Rosings, besides
drinking tea there twice ! How much I shall have
to tell!"
Elizabeth privately added, "And how much I
shall have to conceal."
Their journey was performed without much con-
versation or any alarm ; and within four hours of
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 45
their leaving Hunsford they reached Mr. Gardi-
ner's house, where they were to remain a few
days.
Jane looked well, and Elizabeth had little op-
portunity of studying her spirits, amidst the vari-
ous engagements which the kindness of her aunt
had reserved for them. But Jane was to go home
with her, and at Longbourn there would be leisure
enough for observation.
It was not without an effort, meanwhile, that
she could wait even for Longbourn, before she told
her sister of Mr. Darcy's proposals. To know that
she had the power of revealing what would so
exceedingly astonish Jane, and must at the same
time so highly gratify whatever of her own vanity
she had not }^et been able to reason away, was such
a temptation to openness as nothing could have
conquered but the state of indecision in which
she remained as to the extent of what she should
communicate, and her fear, if she once entered on
the subject, of being hurried into repeating some-
thing of Bingley, which might only grieve her
sister further.
CHAPTER VI.
It was the second week in May in which the
three young ladies set out together from Grace-
church Street for the town of , in Hertford-
shire; and as they drew near the appointed inn
where Mr. Bennet's carriage was to meet them,
they quickly perceived, in token of the coachman's
punctuality, both Kitty and Lydia looking out of a
dining-room upstairs. These two girls had been
above an hour in the place, happily employed in
visiting an opposite milliner, watching the sentinel
on guard, and dressing a salad and cucumber.
After welcoming their sisters, they triumphantly
displayed a table set out with such cold meat as
an inn larder usually affords, exclaiming, "Is not
this nice? Is not this an agreeable surprise?"
"And we mean to treat you all," added Lydia;
"but you must lend us the money, for we have
just spent ours at the shop out there." Then
showing her purchases : "Look here, I have bought
this bonnet. I do not think it is very pretty ; but
I thought I might as well buy it as not. I shall
pull it to pieces as soon as I get home, and see
if I can make it up any better."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 47
And when her sisters abused it as ugly, she
added, with perfect unconcern: "Oh, but there
were two or three much uglier in the shop; and
when I have bought some prettier-colored satin
to trim it with fresh, I think it will be very
tolerable. Besides, it will not much signify
what one wears this summer, after the shire
have left Meryton; and they are going in a
fortnight.' '
"Are they, indeed?" cried Elizabeth, with the
greatest satisfaction.
"They are going to be encamped near Brighton;
and I do so want papa to take us all there for the
summer! It would be such a delicious scheme,
and I dare say would hardly cost anything at all.
Mamma would like to go, too, of all things ! Only
think what a miserable summer else we shall
have ! "
"Yes," thought Elizabeth; "that would be a
delightful scheme, indeed, and completely do for us
at once. Good Heaven! Brighton and a whole
campful of soldiers, to us, who have been overset
already by one poor regiment of militia, and the
monthly balls of Meryton! "
"Now I have got some news for you," said
Lydia, as they sat down to table. " What do you
think? It is excellent news, capital news, and
about a certain person that we all like."
Jane and Elizabeth looked at each other, and
48 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
the waiter was told that he need not stay. Lydia
laughed, and said, —
"Ay, that is just like your formality and dis-
cretion. You thought the waiter must not hear.
As if he cared! I dare say he often hears worse
things said than I am going to say. But he is an
ugly fellow! I am glad he is gone. I never saw
such a long chin in my life. Well, but now for
my news : it is about dear Wickham ; too good for
the waiter, is not it? There is no danger of
Wickham' s marrying Mary King, — there 's for
you! She is gone down to her uncle at Liver-
pool,— gone to stay. Wickham is safe."
"And Mary King is safe," added Elizabeth, —
"safe from a connection imprudent as to fortune."
"She is a great fool for going away, if she
liked him."
"But I hope there is no strong attachment on
either side," said Jane.
"I am sure there is not on his. I will answer
for it, he never cared three straws about her. Who
could about such a nasty little freckled thing? "
Elizabeth was shocked to think that, however in-
capable of such coarseness of expression herself,
the coarseness of the sentiment was little other
than her own breast had formerly harbored and
fancied liberal!
As soon as all had ate, and the elder ones paid,
the carriage was ordered; and after some contriv-
PKIDE AND PREJUDICE. 49
ance the whole party, with all their boxes, work-
bags, and parcels, and the unwelcome addition of
Kitty's and Lydia's purchases, were seated in it.
" How nicely we are crammed in! " cried Lydia.
"1 am glad I brought my bonnet, if it is only for the
fun of having another bandbox ! Well, now let us
be quite comfortable and snug, and talk and laugh
all the way home. And in the first place, let us
hear what has happened to you all since you went
away. Have you seen any pleasant men? Have
you had any flirting? I was in great hopes that one
of you would have got a husband before you came
back. Jane will be quite an old maid soon, I de-
clare. She is almost three-and-twenty ! Lord!
how ashamed I should be of not being married
before three-and-twenty! My aunt Philips wants
you so to get husbands, you can't think. She
says Lizzy had better have taken Mr. Collins; but
I do not think there would have been any fun in
it. Lord! how I should like to be married before
any of you ! and then I would chaperon you about
to all the balls. Dear me! we had such a good
piece of fun the other day at Colonel Forster's!
Kitty and me were to spend the day there, and
Mrs. Forster promised to have a little dance in
the evening (by the by, Mrs. Forster and me are
such friends !) ; and so she asked the two Harring-
tons to come. But Harriet was ill, and so Pen was
forced to come by herself; and then, what do you
VOL. II. — 4
50 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
think we did? We dressed up Chamberlayne in
woman's clothes, on purpose to pass for a lady, —
only think what fun ! Not a soul knew of it, but
Colonel and Mrs. Eorster, and Kitty and me, ex-
cept my aunt, for we were forced to borrow one of
her gowns; and you cannot imagine how well he
looked! When Denny and Wickham and Pratt
and two or three more of the men came in, they
did not know him in the least. Lord! how I
laughed! and so did Mrs. Forster. I thought I
should have died. And that made the men sus-
pect something, and then they soon found out what
was the matter.' '
With such kind of histories of their parties and
good jokes did Lj'dia, assisted by Kitty's hints
and additions, endeavor to amuse her companions
all the way to Longbourn. Elizabeth listened as
little as she could, but there was no escaping the
frequent mention of Wickham's name.
Their reception at home was most kind. Mrs.
Bennet rejoiced to see Jane in undiminished beauty ;
and more than once during dinner did Mr. Bennet
say voluntarily to Elizabeth, —
"I am glad you are come back, Lizzy."
Their party in the dining-room was large, for
almost all the Lucases came to meet Maria and
hear the news; and various were the subjects
which occupied them: Lady Lucas was inquiring
of Maria, across the table, after the welfare and
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 51
poultry of her eldest daughter; Mrs. Bennet was
doubly engaged, on one hand collecting an account
of the present fashions from Jane, who sat some
way below her, and on the other, retailing them
all to the younger Miss Lucases ; and Lydia, in a
voice rather louder than any other person's, was
enumerating the various pleasures of the morning
to anybody who would hear her.
"Oh, Mary," said she, "I wish you had gone
with us, for we had such fun ! As we went along,
Kitty and me drew up all the blinds, and pre-
tended there was nobody in the coach; and I
should have gone so all the way, if Kitty had not
been sick; and when we got to the George, I do
think we behaved very handsomely, for we treated
the other three with the nicest cold luncheon in
the world, and if you would have gone, we would
have treated you too. And then when we came
away it was such fun! I thought we never should
have got into the coach. I was ready to die of
laughter. And then we were so merry all the way
home! We talked and laughed so loud that any-
body might have heard us ten miles off! "
To this, Mary very gravely replied: " Far be it
from me, my dear sister, to depreciate such pleas-
ures. They would doubtless be congenial with
the generality of female minds. But I confess
they would have no charms for me. I should
infinitely prefer a book."
52 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
But of this answer Lydia heard not a word.
She seldom listened to anybody for more than half
a minute, and never attended to Mary at all.
In the afternoon Lydia was urgent with the
rest of the girls to walk to Meryton and see how
everybody went on; but Elizabeth steadily op-
posed the scheme. It should not be said that the
Miss Bennets could not be at home half a day be-
fore they were in pursuit of the officers. There
was another reason, too, for her opposition. She
dreaded seeing Wickham again, and was resolved
to avoid it as long as possible. The comfort to
her of the regiment's approaching removal was
indeed beyond expression. In a fortnight they
were to go; and once gone, she hoped there could
be nothing more to plague her on his account.
She had not been many hours at home, before
she found that the Brighton scheme, of which
Lydia had given them a hint at the inn, was
under frequent discussion between her parents.
Elizabeth saw directly that her father had not the
smallest intention of yielding; but his answers
were at the same time so vague and equivocal 'that
her mother, though often disheartened, had never
yet despaired of succeeding at last
CHAPTER
Elizabeth's impatience to acquaint Jane with
what had happened could no longer be overcome;
and at length resolving to suppress every particu-
lar in which her sister was concerned, and pre-
paring her to be surprised, she related to her the
next morning the chief of the scene between Mr.
Darcy and herself.
Miss Bennetts astonishment was soon lessened
by the strong sisterly partiality which made any
admiration of Elizabeth appear perfectly natural;
and all surprise was shortly lost in other feelings.
She was sorry that Mr. Darcy should have deliv-
ered his sentiments in a manner so little suited to
recommend them; but still more was she grieved
for the unhappiness which her sister's refusal must
have given him.
"His being so sure of succeeding was wrong/'
said she, "and certainly ought not to have ap-
peared; but consider how much it must increase
his disappointment."
"Indeed," replied Elizabeth, "I am heartily-
sorry for him ; but he has other feelings which will
54 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
probably soon drive away his regard for me. You
do not blame me, however, for refusing him? "
" Blame you! Oh, no."
" But you blame me for having spoken so warmly
of Wickham?"
"No, — I do not know that you were wrong in
saying what you did."
"But you will know it, when I have told you
what happened the very next day."
She then spoke of the letter, repeating the
whole of its contents as far as they concerned
George Wickham. What a stroke was this for
poor Jane, who would willingly have gone through
the world without believing that so much wicked-
ness existed in the whole race of mankind as was
here collected in one individual! Nor was Darcy's
vindication, though grateful to her feelings, capa-
ble of consoling her for such discovery. Most ear-
nestly did she labor to prove the probability of error,
and seek to clear one without involving the other.
"This will not do," said Elizabeth; "you never
will be able to make both of them good for any-
thing. Take your choice, but you must be satis-
fied with only one. There is but such a quantity
of merit between them, — just enough to make one
good sort of man; and of late it has been shifting
about pretty much. For my part, I am inclined
to believe it all Mr. Darcy's; but you shall do as
you choose."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 55
It was some time, however, before a smile could
be extorted from Jane.
"I do not know when I have been more
shocked,' ' said she. "Wickham so very bad!
It is almost past belief. And poor Mr. Darcy!
Dear Lizzy, only consider what he must have suf-
fered. Such a disappointment! and with the
knowledge of your ill opinion too! and having to
relate such a thing of his sister ! It is really too
distressing; I am sure you must feel it so."
"Oh, no, my regret and compassion are all done
away by seeing you so full of both. I know you
will do him such ample justice that I am growing
every moment more unconcerned and indifferent.
Your profusion makes me saving; and if you
lament over him much longer, my heart will be
as light as a feather."
"Poor Wickham! there is such an expression
of goodness in his countenance, such an openness
and gentleness in his manner."
"There certainly was some great mismanage-
ment in the education of those two young men.
One has got all the goodness, and the other all the
appearance of it."
"I never thought Mr. Darcy so deficient in the
appearance of it as you used to do."
" And yet I meant to be uncommonly clever in
taking so decided a dislike to him, without any
reason. It is such a spur to one's genius, such an
56 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
opening for wit, to have a dislike of that kind.
One may be continually abusive without saying
anything just; but one cannot be always laugh-
ing at a man without now and then stumbling
on something witty.' '
" Lizzy, when you first read that letter, I am
sure you could not treat the matter as you do
now."
"Indeed, I could not. I was uncomfortable
enough, I was very uncomfortable, — I may say
unhappy. And with no one to speak to of what I
felt, no Jane to comfort me, and say that I had
not been so very weak and vain and nonsensical
as I knew I had ! Oh, how I wanted you ! "
"How unfortunate that you should have used
such very strong expressions in speaking of Wick-
ham to Mr. Darcy, for now they do appear wholly
r undeserved."
"Certainly. But the misfortune of speaking
/ with bitterness is a most natural consequence of
the prejudices I had j>een encouraging. There is
one point on which I want yourarlvice. I want
to be told whether I ought, or ought not, to make
our acquaintance in general understand Wickham's
character."
Miss Bennet paused a little, and then replied:
" Surely there can be no occasion for exposing him
so dreadfully. What is your own opinion? "
"That it ought not to be attempted. Mr.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 57
Darcy has not authorized me to make his commu-
nication public. On the contrary, every particular
relative to his sister was meant to be kept as much
as possible to myself; and if I endeavor to unde-
ceive people as to the rest of his conduct, who will
believe me? The general prejudice against Mr.
Darcy is so violent that it would be the death of
half the good people in Meryton, to attempt to
place him in an amiable light. I am not equal to
it. Wickham will soon be gone; and therefore
it will not signify to anybody here what he really
is. Some time hence it will be all found out, and
then we may laugh at their stupidity in not know-
ing it before. At present I will say nothing
about it."
" You are quite right. To have his errors made
public might ruin him forever. He is now, per-
haps, sorry for what he has done, and anxious to
re-establish a character. We must not make him
desperate."
The tumult of Elizabeth's mind was allayed by
this conversation. She had got rid of two of the
secrets which had weighed on her for a fortnight,
and was certain of a willing listener in Jane,
whenever she might wish to talk again of either.
But there was still something lurking behind, of
which prudence forbade the disclosure. She dared
not relate the other half of Mr. Darcy's letter, nor
explain to her sister how sincerely she had been
58 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
valued by his friend. Here was knowledge in
which no one could partake; and she was sensible
that nothing less than a perfect understanding be-
tween the parties could justify her in throwing off
this last encumbrance of mystery. " And then,"
said she, " if that very improbable event should
ever take place, I shall merely be able to tell what
Bingley may tell in a much more agreeable manner
himself. The liberty of communication cannot be
mine till it has lost all its value! "
She was now, on being settled at home, at leisure
to observe the real state of her sister's spirits.
Jane was not happy. She still cherished a very
tender affection for Bingley. Having never even
fancied herself in love before, her regard had all
the warmth of first attachment, and from her age
and disposition, greater steadiness than first at-
tachments often boast; and so fervently did she
value his remembrance, and prefer him to every
other man, that all her good sense and all her
attention to the feelings of her friends were requi-
site to check the indulgence of those regrets which
must have been injurious to her own health and
their tranquillity.
"Well, Lizzy," said Mrs. Bennet, one day,
"what is your opinion now of this sad business
of Jane's? For my part, I am determined never
to speak of it again to anybody. I told my sister
Philips so the other day. But I cannot find out
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 59
that Jane saw anything of him in London. Well,
he is a very undeserving young man, — and I do not
suppose there is the least chance in the world of
her ever getting him now. There is no talk of his
coming to Netherfield again in the summer; and I
have inquired of everybody, too, who is likely to
know."
" I do not believe that he will ever live at
Netherfield any more."
"Oh, well! it is just as he chooses. Nobody
wants him to come; though I shall always say
that he used my daughter extremely ill; and if I
was her, I would not have put up with it. Well,
my comfort is, I am sure Jane will die of a broken
heart, and then he will be sorry for what he has
done."
But as Elizabeth could not receive comfort from
any such expectation, she made no answer.
"Well, Lizzy," continued her mother, soon
afterwards, u and so the Collinses live very com-
fortable, do they? Well, well, I only hope it
will last. And what sort of table do they keep?
Charlotte is an excellent manager, I dare say. If
she is half as sharp as her mother, she is saving
enough. There is nothing extravagant in their
housekeeping, I dare say."
"No, nothing at all."
"A great deal of good management, depend up-
on it. Yes, yes. They will take care not to out'
60 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
run their income. They will never be distressed
for money. Well, much good may it do them J
And so, I suppose, they often talk of having
Longbourn when your father is dead. They look
upon it quite as their own, I dare say, whenever
that happens."
"It was a subject which they could not mention
before me."
"No; it would have been strange if they had.
But I make no doubt they often talk of it between
themselves. Well, if they can be easy with an
estate that is not lawfully their own, so much the
better. I should be ashamed of having one that
was only entailed on me."
CHAPTER VIII.
The first week of their return was soon gone.
The second began. It was the last of the regi-
ment's stay in Meryton, and all the young ladies
in the neighborhood were drooping apace. The
dejection was almost universal. The elder Miss
Bennets alone were still able to eat, drink, and
sleep, and pursue the usual course of their employ-
ments. Very frequently were they reproached for
this insensibility by Kitty and Lydia, whose own
misery was extreme, and who could not compre-
hend such hard-heartedness in any of the family.
"Good Heaven! What is to become of us?
What are we to do?" would they often exclaim
in the bitterness of woe. "How can you be smil-
ing so, Lizzy? "
Their affectionate mother shared all their grief;
she remembered what she had herself endured on
a similar occasion five-and-twenty years ago.
"I am sure," said she, "I cried for two days to-
gether when Colonel Millar's regiment went away.
I thought I should have broke my heart. "
"I am sure I shall break mine," said Lydia.
"If one could but go to Brighton!" observed
Mrs. Bennet.
r
62 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
"Oh, yes! — if one could but go to Brighton!
But papa is so disagreeable."
"A little sea-bathing would set me up forever. n
"And my aunt Philips is sure it would do me a
great deal of good," added Kitty.
Such were the kind of lamentations resounding
perpetually through Longbourn House. Elizabeth
tried to be diverted by them; but all sense of
pleasure was lost in shame. She felt anew the
justice of Mr. Darcy's objections; and never had
she before been so much disposed to pardon his
interference in the views of his friend.
But the gloom of Lydia's prospect was shortly
cleared away; for she received an invitation from
Mrs. Forster, the wife of the colonel of the regi-
ment, to accompany her to Brighton. This inval-
uable friend was a very young woman, and very
lately married. A resemblance in good-humor
and good spirits had recommended her and Lydia
to each other, and out of their three months' ac-
quaintance they had been intimate two.
The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, her adora-
tion of Mrs. Forster, the delight of Mrs. Bennet,
and the mortification of Kitty are scarcely to be
described. Wholly inattentive to her sister's
feelings, Lydia flew about the house in restless
ecstasy, calling for every one's congratulations,
and laughing and talking wth more violence than
ever; whilst the luckless Kitty continued in the
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 63
parlor repining at her fate in terms as unreason-
able as her accent was peevish.
"I cannot see why Mrs. Forster should not ask
me as well as Lydia," said she, " though I am not
her particular friend. I have just as much right
to be asked as she has, and more too, for I am two
years older."
In vain did Elizabeth attempt to make her
reasonable, and Jane to make her resigned. As
for Elizabeth herself, this invitation was so far
from exciting in her the same feelings as in her
mother and Lydia, that she considered it as the
death-warrant of all possibility of common-sense
for the latter; and detestable as such a step must
make her, were it known, she could not help secret-
ly advising her father not to let her go. She rep-
resented to him all the improprieties of Lydia's
general behavior, the little advantage she could
derive from the friendship of such a woman as
Mrs. Forster, and the probability of her being
yet more imprudent with such a companion at
Brighton, where the temptations must be greater
than at home. He heard her attentively, and then
said, —
" Lydia will never be easy till she has exposed
herself in some public place or other, and we can
never expect her to do it with so little expense or
inconvenience to her family as under the present
circumstances."
64 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
"If you were aware,' J said Elizabeth, "of the
very great disadvantage to us all, which must
arise from the public notice of Lydia's unguarded
and imprudent manner, nay, which has already
arisen from it, I am sure you would judge differ-
ently in the affair."
"Already arisen! " repeated Mr. Bennet.
"What! has she frightened away some of your
lovers? Poor little Lizzy! But do not be cast
down. Such squeamish youths as cannot bear to
be connected with a little absurdity are not worth
a regret. Come, let me see the list of the pitiful
fellows who have been kept aloof by Lydia's folly."
"Indeed, you are mistaken. I have no such
injuries to resent. It is not of peculiar, but of
general evils, which I am now complaining. Our
importance, our respectability, in the world must
be affected by the wild volatility, the assurance,
and disdain of all restraint which mark Lydia's
character. Excuse me, — for I must speak
plainly. If you, my dear father, will not take
the trouble of checking her exuberant spirits, and
of teaching her that her present pursuits are not
to be the business of her life, she will soon be be-
yond the reach of amendment. Her character will
be fixed; and she will, at sixteen, be the most de-
termined flirt that ever made herself and her
family ridiculous. A flirt, too, in the worst and
meanest degree of flirtation; without any attrac-
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 65
tion beyond youth and a tolerable person; and,
from the ignorance and emptiness of her mind,
wholly unable to ward off any portion of that uni-
versal contempt which her rage for admiration
will excite. In this danger Kitty is also compre-
hended. She will follow wherever Lydia leads.
Vain, ignorant, idle, and absolutely uncontrolled!
Oh, my dear father, can you suppose it possible
that they will not be censured and despised wher-
ever they are known, and that their sisters will
not be often involved in the disgrace? "
Mr. Bennet saw that her whole heart was in the
subject; and affectionately taking her hand, said
in reply, —
"Do not make yourself uneasy, my love.
Wherever you and Jane are known, you must be
respected and valued; and you will not appear to
less advantage for having a couple of — or I may
say, three — very silly sisters. We shall have
no peace at Longbourn if Lydia does not go to
Brighton. Let her go, then. Colonel Forster is
a sensible man, and will keep her out of any real
mischief; and she is luckily too poor to be an ob-
ject of prey to anybody. At Brighton she will be
of less importance even as a common flirt than she
has been here. The officers will find women better
worth their notice. Let us hope, therefore, that
her being there may teach her her own insigni-
ficance. At any rate, she cannot grow many
66 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
degrees worse, without authorizing us to lock her
up for the rest of her life.''
With this answer Elizabeth was forced to be
content; but her own opinion continued the same,
and she left him disappointed and sorry. It was
not in her nature, however, to increase her vexa-
tions by dwelling on them. She was confident of
having performed her duty; and to fret over un-
avoidable evils, or augment them by anxiety, was
no part of her disposition.
Had Lydia and her mother known the substance
of her conference with her father, their indigna-
tion would hardly have found expression in their
united volubility. In Lydia's imagination, a
visit to Brighton comprised every possibility of
earthly happiness. She saw, with the creative
eye of fancy, the streets of that gay bathing-place
covered with officers. She saw herself the object
of attention to tens and to scores of them at present
unknown. She saw all the glories of the camp :
its tents stretched forth in beauteous uniformity
of lines, crowded with the young and the gay, and
dazzling with scarlet; and, to complete the view,
she saw herself seated beneath a tent, tenderly
flirting with at least six officers at once.
Had she known that her sister sought to tear
her from such prospects and such realities as these,
what would have been her sensations? They could
have been understood only by her mother, who
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 67
might have felt nearly the same. Lydia's going
to Brighton was all that consoled her for the meL
ancholy conviction of her husband's never intend-
ing to go there himself.
But they were entirely ignorant of what had
passed; and their raptures continued, with little
intermission, to the very day of Lydia's leaving
home.
Elizabeth was now to see Mr. Wickham for the
last time. Having been frequently in company
with him since her return, agitation was pretty
well over j the agitations of former partiality en-
tirely so. She had even learned to detect, in the
very gentleness which had first delighted her, an
affectation and a sameness to disgust and weary.
In his present behavior to herself, moreover, she
had a fresh source of displeasure; for the inclina-
tion he soon testified of renewing those attentions
which had marked the early part of their acquaint-
ance could only serve, after what had since passed,
to provoke her. She lost all concern for him in
finding herself thus selected as the object of such
idle and frivolous gallantry ; and while she steadily
repressed it, could not but feel the reproof con-
tained in his believing that however long and for
whatever cause his attentions had been withdrawn,
her vanity would be gratified, and her preference
secured at any time, by their renewal.
On the very last day of the regiment's remain-
/
68 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
ing in Meryton, lie dined, with others of the offi-
cers, at Longbourn; and so little was Elizabeth
disposed to part from him in good-humor, that on
his making some inquiry as to the manner in
which her time had passed at Hunsford, she men-
tioned Colonel Fitzwilliam's and Mr. Darcy's hav-
ing both spent three weeks at Rosings, and asked
him if he were acquainted with the former.
He looked surprised, displeased, alarmed; but
with a moment's recollection and a returning
smile, replied that he had formerly seen him
often, and after observing that he was a very
gentlemanlike man, asked her how she had liked
him. Her answer was warmly in his favor. With
an air of indifference he soon afterwards added,
" How long did you say that he was at Rosings?"
" Nearly three weeks.' '
" And you saw him frequently? "
"Yes, almost every day."
"His manners are very different from his
cousin's."
"Yes, very different; but I think Mr. Darcy
improves on acquaintance."
"Indeed! " cried Wickham, with a look which
did not escape her. "And pray may I ask — "
But checking himself, he added in a gayer tone:
"Is it in address that he improves? Has he
deigned to add aught of civility to his ordinary
style? For I dare not hope," he continued, in a
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 69
lower and more serious tone, " that he is improved
in essentials."
"Oh, no!" said Elizabeth. "In essentials I
believe he is very much what he ever was."
While she spoke, Wickham looked as if scarcely-
knowing whether to rejoice over her words or to
distrust their meaning. There was a something
in her countenance which made him listen with
an apprehensive and anxious attention, while she
added, —
"When I said that he improved on acquaint-
ance, I did not mean that either his mind or man-
ners were in a state of improvement; but that
from knowing him better, his disposition was
better understood."
Wickham's alarm now appeared in a heightened
complexion and agitated look; for a few minutes
he was silent, till, shaking off his embarrassment,
he turned to her again, and said in the gentlest of
accents, —
"You, who so well know my feelings towards
Mr. Darcy, will readily comprehend how sincerely
I must rejoice that he is wise enough to assume
even the appearance of what is right. His pride
in that direction may be of service, if not to him-
self, to many others, for it must deter him from
such foul misconduct as I have suffered by. I
only fear that the sort of cautiousness to which
70 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
you, I imagine, have been alluding, is merely
adopted on his visits to his aunt, of whose good
opinion and judgment he stands much in awe.
His fear of her has always operated, I know, when
they were together; and a good deal is to be im-
puted to his wish of forwarding the match with
Miss de Bourgh, which I am certain he has very
much at heart.' '
Elizabeth could not repress a smile at this, but
she answered only by a slight inclination of the
head. She saw that he wanted to engage her on
the old subject of his grievances, and she was in
no humor to indulge him. The rest of the even-
ing passed with the appearance, on his side, of
usual cheerfulness, but with no further attempt to
distinguish Elizabeth ; and they parted at last with
mutual civility, and possibly a mutual desire of
never meeting again.
When the party broke up, Lydia returned with
Mrs. Forster to Meryton, from whence they were
to set out early the next morning. The separation
between her and her family was rather noisy than
pathetic. Kitty was the only one who shed tears;
but she did weep from vexation and envy. Mrs.
Bennet was diffuse in her good wishes for the
felicity of her daughter, and impressive in her
injunctions that she would not miss the opportunity
of enjoying herself as much as possible, — advice
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 71
which there was every reason to believe would be
attended to; and in the clamorous happiness of
Lydia herself in bidding farewell, the more gentle
adieus of her sisters were uttered without being
heard.
t
CHAPTER IX.
Had Elizabeth's opinion been all drawn from her
own family, she could not have formed a very
pleasing picture of conjugal felicity or domestic
comfort. Her father, captivated by youth and
beauty, and that appearance of good-humor which
youth and beauty generally give, had married a
woman whose weak understanding and illiberal
mind had very early in their marriage put an end
to all real affection for her. Respect, esteem, and
confidence had vanished forever; and all his views
of domestic happiness were overthrown. But Mr.
Bennet was not of a disposition to seek comfort
for the disappointment which his own imprudence
had brought on in any of those pleasures which
too often console the unfortunate for their folly or
their vice. He was fond of the country and of
books; and from these tastes had arisen his prin-
cipal enjoyments. To his wife he was very little
otherwise indebted than as her ignorance and folly
had contributed to his amusement. This is not
the sort of happiness which a man would in gen-
eral wish to owe to his wife; but where other
powers of entertainment are wanting, the true
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 73
philosopher will derive benefit from such as are
given.
Elizabeth, however, had never been blind to
the impropriety of her father's behavior as a hus-
band. She had always seen it with pain; but
respecting his abilities, and grateful for his affec-
tionate treatment of herself, she endeavored to for-
get what she could not overlook, and to banish
from her thoughts that continual breach of con-
jugal obligation and decorum which, in exposing
his wife to the contempt of her own children, was
so highly reprehensible. But she had never felt
so strongly as now the disadvantages which must
attend the children of so unsuitable a marriage,
nor ever been so fully aware of the evils arising
from so ill-judged a direction of talents, — talents
which, rightly used, might at least have preserved
the respectability of his daughters, even if inca-
pable of enlarging the mind of his wife.
When Elizabeth had rejoiced over Wickham's
departure, she found little other cause for satisfac-
tion in the loss of the regiment. Their parties
abroad were less varied than before ; and at home
she had a mother and sister whose constant re-
pinings at the dulness of everything around them
threw a real gloom over their domestic circle; and
though Kitty might in time regain her natural
degree of sense, since the disturbers of her brain
were removed, her other sister, from whose dispo-
74 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
sition greater evil might be apprehended, was
likely to he hardened in all her folly and assur-
ance, by a situation of such double danger as a
watering-place and a camp. Upon the whole,
therefore, she found, what has been sometimes
found before, that an event to which she had
looked forward with impatient desire did not, in
taking place, bring all the satisfaction she had
promised herself. It was consequently necessary
to name some other period for the commencement
of actual felicity; to have some other point on
which her wishes and hopes might be fixed, and
by again enjoying the pleasure of anticipation,
console herself for the present, and prepare for
another disappointment. Her tour to the Lakes
was now the object of her happiest thoughts: it
was her best consolation for all the uncomfortable
hours which the discontentedness of her mother
and Kitty made inevitable; and could she have
included Jane in the scheme, every part of it
would have been perfect.
"But it is fortunate,' ' thought she, "that I
have something to wish for. Were the whole
arrangement complete, my disappointment would
be certain. But here, by carrying with me one
ceaseless source of regret in my sister's absence, I
may reasonably hope to have all my expectations of
pleasure realized. A scheme of which every part
promises delight can never be successful; and gen-
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 75
eral disappointment is only warded off by the
defence of some little peculiar vexation.' '
When Lydia went away she promised to write
very often and very minutely to her mother and
Kitty; but her letters were always long expected
and always very short. Those to her mother con-
tained little else than that they were just returned
from the library, where such and such officers had
attended them, and where she had seen such beau-
tiful ornaments as made her quite wild; that she
had a new gown or a new parasol, which she
would have described more fully, but was obliged
to leave off in a violent hurry, as Mrs. Forster
called her, and they were going to the camp; and
from her correspondence with her sister there was
still less to be learned, for her letters to Kitty,
though rather longer, were much too full of lines
under the words to be made public.
After the first fortnight or three weeks of her
absence, health, good-humor, and cheerfulness
began to reappear at Longbourn. Everything
wore a happier aspect. The families who had
been in town for the winter came back again, and
summer finery and summer engagements arose.
Mrs. Bennet was restored to her usual querulous
serenity; and by the middle of June Kitty was
so much recovered as to be able to enter Meryton
without tears, — an event of such happy promise
as to make Elizabeth hope that by the following
76 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
Christmas she might be so tolerably reasonable as
not to mention an officer above once a day, unless,
by some cruel and malicious arrangement at the
War Office, another regiment should be quartered
in Meryton.
The time fixed for the beginning of their north-
ern tour was now fast approaching; and a fort-
night only was wanting of it, when a letter arrived
from Mrs. Gardiner, which at once delayed its
commencement and curtailed its extent. Mr.
Gardiner would be prevented by business from
setting out till a fortnight later in July, and must
be in London again within a month ; and as that
left too short a period for them to go so far, and
see so much as they had proposed, or at least to see
it with the leisure and comfort they had built on,
they were obliged to give up the Lakes, and sub-
stitute a more contracted tour; and according to
the present plan, were to gu no farther northward
than Derbyshire. In that county there was
enough to be seen to occupy the chief of their
three weeks; and to Mrs. Gardiner it had a pecu-
liarly strong attraction. The town where she had
formerly passed some years of her life, and where
they were now to spend a few days, was probably
as great an object of her curiosity as all the cele-
brated beauties of Matlock, Chats worth, Dovedale,
or the Peak.
Elizabeth was excessively iisappointed ; she had
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 77
set her heart on seeing the Lakes, and still thought
there might have been time enough. But it was
her business to be satisfied, and certainly her tem-
per to be happy; and all was soon right again.
With the mention of Derbyshire, there were
many ideas connected. It was impossible for her
to see the word without thinking of Pemberley
and its owner. "But surely," said she, "I may
enter his county with impunity, and rob it of a
few petrified spars without his perceiving me."
The period of expectation was now doubled.
Four weeks were to pass away before her uncle and
aunt's arrival. But they did pass away, and Mr.
and Mrs. Gardiner, with their four children, did
at length appear at Longbourn. The children —
two girls of six and eight years old, and two
younger boys — were to be left under the particular
care of their cousin Jane, who was the general
favorite, and whose steady sense and sweetness of
temper exactly adapted her for attending to them
in every way, — teaching them, playing with
them, and loving them.
The Gardiners stayed only one night at Long-
bourn, and set off the next morning with Eliza-
beth in pursuit of novelty and amusement. One
enjoyment was certain, — that of suitableness as
companions, — a suitableness which comprehended
health and temper to bear inconveniences, cheer-
fulness to enhance every pleasure, and affec-
&3H
78 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
tion and intelligence, which might supply it
among themselves if there were disappointments
abroad.
It is not the object of this work to give a de-
scription of Derbyshire, nor of any of the remark-
able places through which their route thither lay, —
Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Kenilworth, Bir-
mingham, etc., are sufficiently known. A small
part of Derbyshire is all the present concern. To
the little town of Lambton, the scene of Mrs.
Gardiner's former residence, and where she had
lately learned that some acquaintance still re-
mained, they bent their steps, after having seen
all the principal wonders of the country; and
within five miles of Lambton, Elizabeth found,
from her aunt, that Pemberley was situated. It
was not in their direct road, nor more than a mile
or two out of it. In talking over their route the
evening before, Mrs. Gardiner expressed an incli-
nation to see the place again. Mr. Gardiner de-
clared his willingness, and Elizabeth was applied
to for her approbation. B
"My love, should not you like to see a place of
which you have heard so much," said her aunt, —
"a place, too, with which so many of your ac-
quaintance are connected? Wickham passed all
his youth there, you know."
Elizabeth was distressed. She felt that she had
no business at Pemberley, and was obliged to as-
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 79
sume a disinclination for seeing it. " She must
own that she was tired of great houses; after g;o-
ing over so many, she really had no pleasure in
fine carpets or satin curtains."
Mrs. Gardiner abused her stupidity. "If it
were merely a fine house richly furnished/ ' said
she, "I should not care about it myself; but the
grounds are delightful. They have some of the
finest woods in the country.' '
Elizabeth said no more; but her mind could not
acquiesce. The possibility of meeting Mr. Darcy,
while viewing the place, instantly occurred. It
would be dreadful ! She blushed at the very idea,
and thought it would be better to speak openly to
her aunt than to run such a risk. But against
this there were objections; and she finally resolved
that it could be the last resource, if her private
inquiries as to the absence of the family were
unfavorably answered.
Accordingly, when she retired at night, she
asked the chambermaid whether Pemberley were
not a very fine place, what was the name of its
proprietor, and, with no little alarm, whether the
family were down for the summer? A most wel-
come negative followed the last question; and her
alarms being now removed, she was at leisure to
feel a great deal of curiosity to see the house her-
self; and when the subject was revived the next
80 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
morning, and she was again applied to, could
readily answer, and with a proper air of indif-
ference, that she had not really any dislike to the
scheme.
To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go.
\*
CHAPTER X.
Elizabeth, as they drove along, watched for the
first appearance of Pemberley Woods with some
perturbation; and when at length they turned in
at the lodge, her spirits were in a high flutter.
The park was very large, and contained great
variety of ground. They entered it in one of its
lowest points, and drove for some time through a
beautiful wood stretching over a wide extent.
Elizabeth's mind was too full for conversation,
tait she saw and admired every remarkable spot
and point of view. They gradually ascended for
half a mile, and then found themselves at the top
of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased,
and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley
House, situated on the opposite side of the valley,
into which the road with some abruptness wound.
It was a large, handsome stone building, standing
well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of
high woody hills; and in front a stream of some
natural importance was swelled into greater, but
without any artificial appearance. Its banks were
neither formal nor falsely adorned. Elizabeth was
delighted. She had never seen a place for which
VOL. II. — 6
82 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
Nature had done more, or where natural beauty had
been so little counteracted by an awkward taste.
They were all of them warm in their admiration ;
and at that moment she felt that to be mistress of
Pemberley might be something!
They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and
drove to the door; and while examining the
nearer aspect of the house, all her apprehension of
meeting its owner returned. She dreaded lest the
chambermaid had been mistaken. On applying to
see the place, they were admitted into the hall;
and Elizabeth, as they waited for the housekeeper,
had leisure to wonder at her being where she was.
The housekeeper came; a respectable-looking
elderly woman, much less fine and more civil
than she had any notion of finding her. They fol-
lowed her into the dining-parlor. It was a large,
well-proportioned room, handsomely fitted up.
Elizabeth, after slightly surveying it, went to a
window to enjoy its prospect. The hill, crowned
with wood, from which they had descended, re-
ceiving increased abruptness from the distance,
was a beautiful object. Every disposition of the
ground was good; and she looked on the whole
scene, the river, the trees scattered on its banks,
and the winding of the valley, as far as she could
trace it, with delight. As they passed into other
rooms, these objects were taking different posi-
tions; but from every window there were beauties
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 83
to be seen. The rooms were lofty and handsome,
and their furniture suitable to the fortune of their
proprietor; but Elizabeth saw, with admiration of
his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly
fine, — with less of splendor, and more real ele-
gance, than the furniture of Rosings.
"And of this place," thought she, "I might
have been mistress! With these rooms I might
have now been familiarly acquainted! Instead of
viewing them as a stranger, I might have rejoiced
in them as my own, and welcomed to them as visi-
tors my uncle and aunt. But no," recollecting
herself, "that could never be; my uncle and aunt
would have been lost to me; I should not have
been allowed to invite them."
This was a lucky recollection, — it saved her
from something like regret.
She longed to inquire of the housekeeper whether
her master were really absent, but had not courage
for it. At length, however, the question was asked
by her uncle; and she turned away with alarm,
while Mrs. Reynolds replied that he was ; adding,
"But we expect him to-morrow, with a large
party of friends." How rejoiced was Elizabeth
that their own journey had not by any circum-
stance been delayed a day!
Her aunt now called her to look at a picture.
She approached, and saw the likeness of Mr.
Wickham, suspended, amongst several other minia-
84 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
tures, over the mantelpiece. Her aunt asked her
smilingly how she liked it. The housekeeper
came forward, and told them it was the picture of
a young gentleman, the son of her late master's
steward, who had heen brought up by him at his
own expense. " He is now gone into the army,"
she added; "but I am afraid he has turned out
very wild."
Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece with a smile,
but Elizabeth could not return it.
"And that," said Mrs. Reynolds, pointing to
another of the miniatures, i ' is my master, — and
very like him. It was drawn at the same time
as the other, — about eight years ago."
"I have heard much of your master's fine per-
son," said Mrs. Gardiner, looking at the picture;
"it is a handsome face. But, Lizzy, you can tell
us whether it is like or not."
Mrs. Reynolds's respect for Elizabeth seemed to
increase on this intimation of her knowing her
master.
" Does that young lady know Mr. Darcy? "
Elizabeth colored, and said, "A little."
" And do not you think him a very handsome
gentleman, ma'am?"
" Yes, very handsome."
"lam sure I know none so handsome; but in
the gallery upstairs you will see a finer, larger
picture of him than this. This room was my late
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 85
master's favorite room, and these miniatures are
just as they used to be then. He was very fond
of them."
This accounted to Elizabeth for Mr. Wickham's
being among them.
Mrs. Keynolds then directed their attention to
one of Miss Darcy, drawn when she was only eight
years old.
"And is Miss Darcy as handsome as her
brother? " said Mr. Gardiner.
" Oh, yes, — the handsomest young lady that
ever was seen; and so accomplished! She plays
and sings all day long. In the next room is a new
instrument just come down for her, — a present from
my master: she comes here to-morrow with him."
Mr. Gardiner, whose manners were easy and
pleasant, encouraged her communicativeness by
his questions and remarks: Mrs. Reynolds, either
from pride or attachment, had evidently great
pleasure in talking of her master and his sister.
"Is your master much at Pemberley in the
course of the year? "
"Not so much as I could wish, sir; but I dare
say he may spend half his time here, and Miss
Darcy is always down for the summer months."
"Except," thought Elizabeth, "when she goes
to E-amsgate."
" If your master would marry, you might see
more of him."
86 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
"Yes, sir; but I do not know when that will
be. I do not know who is good enough for him."
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner smiled. Elizabeth could
not help saying, "It is very much to his credit, I
am sure, that you should think so."
" I say no more than the truth, and what every-
body will say that knows him," replied the other.
Elizabeth thought this was going pretty far; and
she listened with increasing astonishment as the
housekeeper added, "I have never had a cross
word from him in my life, and I have known him
ever since he was four years old."
This was praise of all others most extraordinary,
most opposite to her ideas. That he was not a
good-tempered man had been her firmest opinion.
Her keenest attention was awakened; she longed
to hear more, and was grateful to her uncle for
saying, —
" There are very few people of whom so much
can be said. You are lucky in having such a
master."
"Yes, sir, I know I am. If I were to go
through the world, I could not meet with a better.
But I have always observed that they who are good-
natured when children are good-natured when they
grow up ; and he was always the sweetest-tempered,
most generous-hearted boy in the world."
Elizabeth almost stared at her. "Can this be
Mr. Darcy? " thought she.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 87
"His father was an excellent man," said Mrs.
Gardiner.
" Yes, ma'am, that he was indeed; and his son
will be just like him, — just as affable to the
poor."
Elizabeth listened, wondered, doubted, and was
impatient for more. Mrs. Reynolds could interest
her on no other point. She related the subjects of
the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the
price of the furniture in vain. Mr. Gardiner,
highly amused by the kind of family prejudice to
which he attributed her excessive commendation of
her master, soon led again to the subject; and she
dwelt with energy on his many merits, as they
proceeded together up the great staircase.
"He is the best landlord and the best master,"
said she, "that ever lived. Not like the wild
young men nowadays, who think of nothing but
themselves. There is not one of his tenants or
servants but what will give him a good name.
Some people call him proud; but I am sure I
never saw anything of it. To my fancy, it is only
because he does not rattle away like other young
men."
" In what an amiable light does this place
him! " thought Elizabeth.
" This fine account of him," whispered her aunt
as they walked, " is not quite consistent with his
behavior to our poor friend."
88 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
" Perhaps we might be deceived."
" That is not very likely; our authority was too
good."
On reaching the spacious lobby above, they were
shown into a very pretty sitting-room, lately fitted
up with greater elegance and lightness than the
apartments below ; and were informed that it was
but just done to give pleasure to Miss Darcy, who
had taken a liking to the room when last at
Pemberley.
"He is certainly a good brother," said Eliza-
beth, as she walked towards one of the windows.
Mrs. Reynolds anticipated Miss Darcy's de-
light when she should enter the room. "And
this is always the way with him," she added.
"Whatever can give his sister any pleasure is
sure to be done in a moment. There is nothing
he would not do for her."
The picture-gallery and two or three of the
principal bedrooms were all that remained to be
shown. In the former were many good paintings :
but Elizabeth knew nothing of the art; and from
such as had been already visible below, she had
willingly turned to look at some drawings of Miss
Darcy's, in crayons, whose subjects were usually
more interesting and also more intelligible.
In the gallery there were many family portraits,
but they could have little to fix the attention of
a stranger. Elizabeth walked on in quest of the
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 89
only face whose features would be known to her.
At last it arrested her; and she beheld a striking
resemblance of Mr. Darcy, with such a smile over
the face as she remembered to have sometimes seen
when he looked at her. She stood several minutes
before the picture in earnest contemplation, and
returned to it again before they quitted the gal-
lery. Mrs. Reynolds informed them that it had
been taken in his father's lifetime.
There was certainly at this moment in Eliza-
beth's mind a more gentle sensation towards the
original than she had ever felt in the height of
their acquaintance. The commendation bestowed
on him by Mrs. Reynolds was of no trifling nature.
What praise is more valuable than the praise of an
intelligent servant? As a brother, a landlord, a
master, she considered how many people's happi-
ness were in his guardianship! How much of
pleasure or pain it was in his power to bestow!
How much of good or evil must be done by him!
Every idea that had been brought forward by the
housekeeper was favorable to his character; and
as she stood before the canvas on which he was
represented, and fixed his eyes upon herself, she
thought of his regard with a deeper sentiment of
gratitude than it had ever raised before: she re-
membered its warmth, and softened its impropriety
of expression.
When all of the house that was open to general
90 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
inspection had been seen, they returned down-
stairs; and taking leave of the housekeeper, were
consigned over to the gardener, who met them at
the hall door.
As they walked across the lawn towards the
river, Elizabeth turned back to look again. Her
uncle and aunt stopped also; and while the former
was conjecturing as to the date of the building, the
owner of it himself suddenly came forward from
the road which led behind it to the stables.
They were within twenty yards of each other,
and so abrupt was his appearance that it was im-
possible to avoid his sight. Their eyes instantly
met, and the cheeks of each were overspread with
the deepest blush. He absolutely started, and for
a moment seemed immovable from surprise; but
shortly recovering himself, advanced towards the
party, and spoke to Elizabeth, if not in terms of
perfect composure, at least of perfect civility.
She had instinctively turned away; but stopping
on his approach, received his compliments with an
embarrassment impossible to be overcome. Had
his first appearance, or his resemblance to the pic-
ture they had just been examining, been insuffi-
cient to assure the other two that they now saw
Mr. Darcy, the gardener's expression of surprise
on beholding his master must immediately have
told it. They stood a little aloof while he was
talking to their niece, who, astonished and con-
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 91
fused, scarcely dared lift her eyes to his face, and
knew not what answer she returned to his civil in-
quiries after her family. Amazed at the altera-
tion of his manner since they last parted, every
sentence that he uttered was increasing her em-
barrassment; and every idea of the impropriety of
her being found there recurring to her mind, the
few minutes in which they continued together were
some of the most uncomfortable of her life. Nor
did he seem much more at ease: when he spoke,
his accent had none of its usual sedateness ; and he
repeated his inquiries as to the time of her having
left Longbourn and of her stay in Derbyshire so
often and in so hurried a way as plainly spoke
the distraction of his thoughts.
At length every idea seemed to fail him; and
after standing a few moments without saying a
word, he suddenly recollected himself, and took
leave.
The others then joined her, and expressed their
admiration of his figure; but Elizabeth heard not
a word, and, wholly engrossed by her own feelings,
followed them in silence. She was overpowered
by shame and vexation. Her coming there was
the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in
the world! How strange must it appear to him!
In what a disgraceful light might it not strike so
vain a man! It might seem as if she had pur-
posely thrown herself in his way again! Oh!
92 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
why did she come? or why did he thus come a day
hefore he was expected? Had they been only ten
minutes sooner, they should have been beyond the
reach of his discrimination; for it was plain that
he was that moment arrived, that moment alighted
from his horse or his carriage. She blushed again
and again over the perverseness of the meeting.
And his behavior, so strikingly altered, — what
could it mean? That he should even speak to her
) was amazing ! — but to speak with such civility,
I to inquire after her family ! Never in her life had
she seen his manners so little dignified, never had
he spoken with such gentleness as on this unex-
pected meeting. What a contrast did it offer to
his last address in Rosings Park, when he put his
letter into her hand! She knew not what to think,
or how to account for it.
They had now entered a beautiful walk by the
side of the water, and every step was bringing for-
ward a nobler fall of ground, or a finer reach of the
woods to which they were approaching: but it was
some time before Elizabeth was sensible of any of
it; and though she answered mechanically to the
repeated appeals of her uncle and aunt, and seemed
to direct her eyes to such objects as they pointed
out, she distinguished no part of the scene. Her
thoughts were all fixed on that one spot of Pem-
berley House, whichever it might be, where Mr.
Darcy then was. She longed to know what at that
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 93
moment was passing in his mind; in what manner
he thought of her, and whether, in defiance of
everything, she was still dear to him. Perhaps
he had been civil only because he felt himself at
ease; yet there had been that in his voice which
was not like ease. Whether he had felt more of
pain or of pleasure in seeing her, she could not
tell; but he certainly had not seen her with
composure.
At length, however, the remarks of her compan
ions on her absence of mind roused her, and she
felt the necessity of appearing more like herself.
They entered the woods and bidding adieu to
the river for a while, ascended some of the higher
grounds; whence, in spots where the opening of
the trees gave the eye power to wander, were many
charming views of the valley, the opposite hills,
with the long range of woods overspreading many,
and occasionally part of the stream. Mr. Gardiner
expressed a wish of going round the whole park,
but feared it might be beyond a walk. With a
triumphant smile, they were told that it was ten
miles round. It settled the matter; and they pur-
sued the accustomed circuit, which brought them
again, after some time, in a descent among hang-
ing woods, to the edge of the water, and one of its
narrowest parts. They crossed it by a simple
bridge, in character with the general air of the
scene . it was a spot less adorned than any they
94 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
had yet visited; and the valley, here contracted
into a glen, allowed room only for the stream, and
a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-wood
which bordered it. Elizabeth longed to explore
its windings; but when they had crossed the
bridge, and perceived their distance from the
house, Mrs. Gardiner, who was not a great walker,
could go no farther, and thought only of returning
to the carriage as quickly as possible. Her niece
was therefore obliged to submit, and they took
their way towards the house on the opposite side
of the river, in the nearest direction; but their
progress was slow, for Mr. Gardiner, though sel-
dom able to indulge the taste, was very fond of fish-
ing, and was so much engaged in watching the
occasional appearance of some trout in the water,
and talking to the man about them, that he ad-
vanced but little. Whilst wandering on in this
slow manner, they were again surprised, and Eliza-
beth's astonishment was quite equal to what it had
been at first, by the sight of Mr. Darcy approach-
ing them, and at no great distance. The walk
being here less sheltered than on the other side,
allowed them to see him before they met. Eliza-
beth, however astonished, was at least more pre-
pared for an interview than before, and resolved to
appear and to speak with calmness, if he really in-
tended to meet them. For a few moments, indeed,
she felt that he would probably strike into some
PKIDE AND PREJUDICE. 95
other path. The idea lasted while a turning in
the walk concealed him from their view; the turn-
ing past, he was immediately before them. With
a glance she saw that he had lost none of his recent
civility; and to imitate his politeness, she began,
as they met, to admire the beauty of the place ; but
she had not got beyond the words " delightful "
and " charming/ ' when some unlucky recollections
obtruded, and she fancied that praise of Pemberley
from her might be mischievously construed. Her
color changed, and she said no more.
Mrs. Gardiner was standing a little behind; and
on her pausing, he asked her if she would do him
the honor of introducing him to her friends. This
was a stroke of civility for which she was quite un-
prepared; and she could hardly suppress a smile at
his being now seeking the acquaintance of some
of those very people against whom his pride
had revolted, in his offer to herself. " What will
be his surprise, " thought she, "when he knows
who they are ! He takes them now for people of
fashion."
The introduction, however, was immediately
made ; and as she named their relationship to her-
self, she stole a sly look at him, to see how he bore
it, and was not without the expectation of his de-
camping as fast as he could from such disgraceful
companions. That he was surprised by the con-
nection was evident; he sustained it, however,
96 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
with fortitude, and so far from going away,
turned back with them, and entered into conver-
sation with Mr. Gardiner. Elizabeth could not
but be pleased, could not but triumph. ^/it was
consoling that he should know she had some rela-
tions for whom there was no need to blush. She
listened most attentively to all that passed between
them, and gloried in every expression, every sen-
tence of her uncle, which marked his intelligence,
his taste, or his good manners.^'
The conversation soon turned upon fishing; and
she heard Mr. Darcy invite him, with the greatest
civility, to fish there as often as he chose, while
he continued in the neighborhood, offering at the
same time to supply him with fishing-tackle, and
pointing out those parts of the stream where there
was usually most sport. Mrs. Gardiner, who was
walking arm in arm with Elizabeth, gave her a
look expressive of her wonder. Elizabeth said
nothing, but it gratified her exceedingly; the com-
pliment must be all for herself. Her astonish-
ment, however, was extreme ; and continually was
she repeating, "Why is he so altered? From
what can it proceed? It cannot be for me, it can-
not be for my sake that his manners are thus soft-
ened. My reproofs at Hunsford could not work
such a change as this. It is impossible that he
should still love me."
After walking some time in this way, the two
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 97
ladies in front, the two gentlemen behind, on re-
suming their places, after descending to the brink
of the river for the better inspection of some curi-
ous water-plant, there chanced to be a little al-
teration. It originated in Mrs. Gardiner, who,
fatigued by the exercise of the morning, found
Elizabeth's arm. inadequate to her support, and
consequently preferred her husband's. Mr. Darcy
took her place by her niece, and they walked on
together. After a short silence the lady first
spoke. She wished him to know that she had been
assured of his absence before she came to the place,
and accordingly began by observing that his ar-
rival had been very unexpected, — " for your house-
keeper/ ' she added, " informed us that you would
certainly not be here till to-morrow; and indeed,
before we left Bakewell, we understood that you
were not immediately expected in the country."
He acknowledged the truth of it all, and said that
business with his steward had occasioned his com-
ing forward a few hours before the rest of the party
with whom he had been travelling. "They will
join me early to-morrow," he continued; "and
among them are some who will claim an acquaint-
ance with you, — Mr. Bingley and his sisters."
Elizabeth answered only by a slight bow. Her
thoughts were instantly driven back to the time
when Mr. Bingley's name had been last men-
tioned between them; and if she might judge
s
98 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
from his complexion, his mind was not very dif-
ferently engaged.
" There is also one other person in the party,"
he continued after a pause, "who more particu-
larly wishes to be known to you. Will you allow
me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to
your acquaintance during your stay at Lambton? "
The surprise of such an application was great
indeed; it was too great for her to know in what
manner she acceded to it. She immediately felt
that whatever desire Miss Darcy might have of
being acquainted with her must be the work of
her brother, and without looking further, it was
satisfactory; it was gratifying to know that his re-
sentment had not made him think really ill of her.
They now walked on in silence; each of them
deep in thought. Elizabeth was not comfortable,
— that was impossible; but she was nattered and
pleased. His wish of introducing his sister to
her was a compliment of the highest kind. They
soon outstripped the others; and when they had
reached the carriage, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were
half a quarter of a mile behind.
He then asked her to walk into the house; but
she declared herself not tired, and they stood to-
gether on the lawn. At such a time much might
have been said, and silence was very awkward.
She wanted to talk, but there seemed an embargo
on every subject. At last she recollected that she
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 90
had been travelling, and they talked of Matlock
and Dovedale with great perseverance. Yet time
and her aunt moved slowly, and her patience
and her ideas were nearly worn out before the
tete-a-tete was over.
On Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's coming up they
were all pressed to go into the house and take
some refreshment ; but this was declined, and they
parted on each side with the utmost politeness.
Mr. Darcy handed the ladies into the carriage;
and when it drove off, Elizabeth saw him walking
slowly towards the house.
The observations of her uncle and aunt now be-
gan; and each of them pronounced him to be
infinitely superior to anything they had expected.
"He is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unas-
suming/ ' said her uncle.
" There is something a little stately in him, to
be sure," replied her aunt; "but it is confined to
his air, and is not unbecoming. I can now say
with the housekeeper, that though some people.
may call him proud*. I havp. .seen nothing oi_ it."
"I was never more surprised than by his be-
havior to us. It was more than civil; it was
really attentive; and there was no necessity for
such attention. His acquaintance with Elizabeth
was very trifling."
"To be sure, Lizzy," said her aunt, "he is not
so handsome as Wickham; or rather he has not
100 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
Wickham's countenance, for his features are per-
fectly good. But how came you to tell us that he
was so disagreeable? "
Elizabeth excused herself as well as she could, —
said that she had liked him better when they met
in Kent than before, and that she had never seen
him so pleasant as this morning.
"But perhaps he may be a little whimsical in
his civilities,' ' replied her uncle. "Your great
men often are ; and therefore I shall not take him
at his word about fishing, as he might change his
mind another day, and warn me off his grounds."
Elizabeth felt that they had entirely mistaken
his character, but said nothing.
"From what we have seen of him," continued
Mrs. Gardiner, " I really should not have thought
that he could have behaved in so cruel a way by
anybody as he has done by poor Wickham. He
has not an ill-natured look. On the contrary,
there is something pleasing about his mouth when
he speaks; and there is something of dignity in
his countenance, that would not give one an un-
favorable idea of his heart. But, to be sure, the
good lady who showed us the house did give him
a most flaming character! I could hardly help
laughing aloud sometimes. But he is a liberal
master, I suppose; and that, in the eye of a ser-
vant, comprehends every virtue."
Elizabeth here felt herself called on to say some-
PlilDE AND PREJUDICE. 101
thing in vindication of his behavior to Wickham;
and therefore gave them to understand, in as
guarded a manner as she could, that by what she
had heard from his relations in Kent, his actions
were capable of a very different construction, and
that his character was by no means so faulty, nor
Wickham' s so amiable, as they had been consid-
ered in Hertfordshire. In confirmation of this,
she related the particulars of all the pecuniary
transactions in which they had been connected,
without actually naming her authority, but stating
it to be such as might be relied on.
Mrs. Gardiner was surprised and concerned ; but
as they were now approaching the scene of her
former pleasures, every idea gave way to the
charm of recollection, and she was too much en-
gaged in pointing out to her husband all the inter-
esting spots in its environs to think of anything
else. Fatigued as she had been by the morning's
walk, they had no sooner dined than she set off
again in quest of her former acquaintance, and the
evening was spent in the satisfactions of an inter-
course renewed after many years' discontinuance.
The occurrences of the day were too full of in-
terest to leave Elizabeth much attention for any of
these new friends ; and she could do nothing but
think, and think with wonder, of Mr. Darcy's
civility, and above all, of his wishing her to be
acquainted with his sister.
CHAPTER XI.
Elizabeth had settled it that Mr. Darcy would
bring his sister to visit her the very day after her
reaching Pemberley, and was, consequently, re-
solved not to be out of sight of the inn the whole
of that morning. But her conclusion was false;
for on the very morning after their own arrival at
Lambton, these visitors came. They had been
walking about the place with some of their new
friends, and were just returned to the inn to dress
themselves for dining with the same family, when
the sound of a carriage drew them to a window,
and they saw a gentleman and lady in a curricle
driving up the street. Elizabeth, immediately
recognizing the livery, guessed what it meant, and
imparted no small degree of surprise to her rela-
tions by acquainting them with the honor which
she expected. Her uncle and aunt were all amaze-
ment ; and the embarrassment of her manner as she
spoke, joined to the circumstance itself, and many
of the circumstances of the preceding day, opened
to them a new idea on the business. Nothing had
ever suggested it before, but they now felt that
there was no other way of accounting for such at-
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 103
tentions from such a quarter than hy supposing a
partiality for their niece. While these newly born
notions were passing in their heads, the pertur-
bation of Elizabeth's feelings was every moment
increasing. She was quite amazed at her own
discomposure; but amongst other causes of dis-
quiet, she dreaded lest the partiality of the brother
should have said too much in her favor; and more
than commonly anxious to please, she naturally
suspected that every power of pleasing would fail
her.
She retreated from the window, fearful of being
seen; and as she walked up and down the room,
endeavoring to compose herself, saw such looks of
inquiring surprise in her uncle and aunt as made
everything worse.
Miss Darcy and her brother appeared, and this
formidable introduction took place. With aston-
ishment did Elizabeth see that her new acquaint-
ance was at least as much embarrassed as herself.
Since her being at Lambton, she had heard that
Miss Darcy was exceedingly proud; but the obser-
vation of a very few minutes convinced her that
she was only exceedingly shy. She found it diffi-
cult to obtain even a word from her beyond a
monosyllable.
Miss Darcy was tall, and on a larger scale than
Elizabeth; and though little more than sixteen,
her figure was formed, and her appearance womanly
104 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
and graceful. She was less handsome than her
brother, but there was sense and good-humor in
her face, and her manners were perfectly unassum-
ing and gentle. Elizabeth, who had expected to
find in her as acute and unembarrassed an observer
as ever Mr. Darcy had been, was much relieved by
discerning such different feelings.
They had not been long together before Darcy
told her that Bingley was also coming to wait on
her; and she had barely time to express her satis-
faction, and prepare for such a visitor, when Bing-
ley's quick step was heard on the stairs, and in a
moment he entered the room. All Elizabeth's
anger against him had been long done away; but
had she still felt any, it could hardly have stood
its ground against the unaffected cordiality with
which he expressed himself on seeing her again.
He inquired, in a friendly though general way,
after her family, and looked and spoke with the
same good-humored ease that he had ever done.
To Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner he was scarcely a
less interesting personage than to herself. They
had long wished to see him. The whole party
before them, indeed, excited a lively attention.
The suspicions which had just arisen of Mr. Darcy
and their niece directed their observation towards
each with an earnest though guarded inquiry;
and they soon drew from those inquiries the full
conviction that one of them at least knew what it
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 105
was to love. Of the lady's sensations they re-
mained a little in doubt, but that the gentleman
was overflowing with admiration was evident
enough.
Elizabeth, on her side, had much to do. She
wanted to ascertain the feelings of each of her visi-
tors, she wanted to compose her own, and to make
herself agreeable to all; and in the latter object,
where she feared most to fail, she was most sure
of success, for those to whom she endeavored to
give pleasure were prepossessed in her favor.
Bingley was ready, Georgiana was eager, and
Darcy determined, to be pleased.
In seeing Bingley, her thoughts naturally flew
to her sister; and oh! how ardently did she long
to know whether any of his were directed in a like
manner ! Sometimes she could fancy that he talked
less than on former occasions, and once or twice
pleased herself with the notion that as he looked
at her, he was trying to trace a resemblance. But
though this might be imaginary, she could not be
deceived as to his behavior to Miss Darcy, who had
been set up as a rival to Jane. No look appeared
on either side that spoke particular regard. Noth-
ing occurred between them that could justify the
hopes of his sister. On this point she was soon
satisfied; and two or three little circumstances
occurred ere they parted, which in her anxious
interpretation denoted a recollection of Jane not
106 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
untinctured by tenderness, and a wish of saying
more that might lead to the mention of her, had
he dared. He observed to her, at a moment when
the others were talking together, and in a tone
which had something of real regret, that it was
a very long time since he had had the pleasure
of seeing her; and before she could reply, he
added: " It is above eight months. We have not
met since the 26th of November, when we were all
dancing together at Netherfield. ' '
Elizabeth was pleased to find his memory so ex-
act; and he afterwards took occasion to ask her,
when unattended to by any of the rest, whether all
her sisters were at Longbourn. There was not
much in the question, nor in the preceding re-
mark; but there was a look and a manner which
gave them meaning.
It was not often that she could turn her eyes on
Mr. Darcy himself; but whenever she did catch a
glimpse she saw an expression of general complai-
sance, and in all that he said she heard an accent
so far removed from hauteur or disdain of his com-
panions, as convinced her that the improvement of
manners which she had yesterday witnessed, how-
ever temporary its existence might prove, had at
least outlived one day. When she saw him thus
seeking the acquaintance and courting the good
opinion of people with whom any intercourse a few
months ago would have been a disgrace; when she
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 107
saw him thus civil, not only to herself, but to the
very relations whom he had openly disdained, and
recollected their last lively scene in Hunsford Par-
sonage, the difference, the change was so great,
and struck so forcibly on her mind, that she could
hardly restrain her astonishment from being visi-
ble. Never, even in the company of his dear
friends at Netherfield or his dignified relations at
Kosings, had she seen him so desirous to please,
so free from self-consequence or unbending reserve,
as now, when no importance could result from the
success of his endeavors, and when even the ac-
quaintance of those to whom his attentions were
addressed, would draw down the ridicule and
censure of the ladies both of Netherfield and
Rosings.
Their visitors stayed with them above half an
hour; and when they arose to depart, Mr. Darcy
called on his sister to join him in expressing their
wish of seeing Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, and Miss
Bennet, to dinner at Pemberley, before they left
the country. Miss Darcy, though with a diffidence
which marked her little in the habit of giving in-
vitations, readily obeyed. Mrs. Gardiner looked
at her niece, desirous of knowing how she, whom
the invitation most concerned, felt disposed as to
its acceptance; but Elizabeth had turned away her
head. Presuming, however, that this studied
avoidance spoke rather a momentary embarrass-
108 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
ment than any dislike of the proposal, and seeing
in her husband, who was fond of society, a perfect
willingness to accept it, she ventured to engage
for her attendance, and the day after the next was
fixed on.
Bingley expressed great pleasure in the cer-
tainty of seeing Elizabeth again, having still a
great deal to say to her, and many inquiries to
make after all their Hertfordshire friends. Eliza-
beth, construing all this into a wish of hearing
her speak of her sister, was pleased; and on this
account, as well as some others, found herself,
when their visitors left them, capable of consider-
ing the last half -hour with some satisfaction,
though while it was passing the enjoyment of it
had been little. Eager to be alone, and fearful
of inquiries or hints from her uncle and aunt, she
stayed with them only long enough to hear their
favorable opinion of Bingley, and then hurried
away to dress.
But she had no reason to fear Mr. and Mrs.
Gardiner's curiosity; it was not their wish to force
her communication. It was evident that she was
much better acquainted with Mr. Darcy than they
had before any idea of; it was evident that he was
very much in love with her. They saw much to
interest, but nothing to justify inquiry.
Of Mr. Darcy it was now a matter of anxiety
to think well; and as far as their acquaintance
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 109
reached, there was no fault to find. They could
not be untouched by his politeness; and had they
drawn his character from their own feelings and
his servant's report, without any reference to any
other account, the circle in Hertfordshire to which
he was known would not have recognized it for
Mr. Darcy. There was now an interest, however,
in believing the housekeeper; and they soon be-
came sensible that the authority of a servant who
had known him since he was four years old, and
whose own manners indicated respectability, was
not to be hastily rejected. Neither had anything
occurred in the intelligence of their Lambton
friends that could materially lessen its weight.
They had nothing to accuse him of but pride;
pride he probably had, and if not, it would cer-
tainly be imputed by the inhabitants of a small
market town where the family did not visit. It
was acknowledged, however, that he was a liberal
man, and did much good among the poor.
With respect to Wickham, the travellers soon
found that he was not held there in much estima-
tion ; for though the chief of his concerns with the
son of his patron were imperfectly understood, it
was yet a well-known fact that on his quitting
Derbyshire, he had left many debts behind him,
which Mr. Darcy afterwards discharged.
As for Elizabeth, her thoughts were at Pember-
ley this evening more than the last ; and the even*
110 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE-
ing, though as it passed it seemed long, was not
long enough to determine her feelings towards one
in that mansion; and she lay awake two whole
hours, endeavoring to make them out. She cer-
tainly did not hate him. No ; hatred had vanished
long ago, and she had almost as long been ashamed
of ever feeling a dislike against him that could be
so called. The respect created by the conviction
of his valuable qualities, though at first unwill-
• ingly admitted, had for some time ceased to be
repugnant to her feelings ; and it was now height-
ened into somewhat of a friendlier nature by the
testimony so highly in his favor, and bringing for-
/ ward his disposition in so amiable a light, which
yesterday had produced. But above all, above re-
spect and esteem, there was a motive within her of
good-will which could not be overlooked. It was
gratitude, — gratitude, not merely for having
once loved her, but for loving her still well
enough to forgive all the petulance and acrimony
of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust
accusations accompanying her rejection. He who
she had been persuaded would avoid her as his
greatest enemy, seemed, on this accidental meet-
ing, most eager to preserve the acquaintance, and
without any indelicate display of regard, or any
peculiarity of manner, where their two selves only
were concerned, was soliciting the good opinion of
her friends, and bent on making her known to his
A
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. Ill
>,
sister. Such a change in a man of so much pride
excited not only astonishment hut gratitude, — for
to love, ardent love, it must be attributed; and as
such, its impression on her was of a sort to be en-
couraged, as by no means unpleasing, though it
could not be exactly denned. She respected, she
esteemed, she was grateful to him, she felt a real
interest in his welfare; and she only wanted to
know how far she wished that welfare to depend
upon herself, and how far it would be for the hap-
piness of both that she should employ the power,
which her fancy told her she still possessed, of
bringing on the renewal of his addresses.
It had been settled in the evening, between the
aunt and niece, that such a striking civility as
Miss Darcy's, in coming to them on the very day
of her arrival at Pemberley, for she had reached
it only to a late breakfast, ought to be imitated,
though it could not be equalled, by some exertion
of politeness on their side, and consequently
that it would he highly expedient to wait on her
at Pemberley the following morning. They were,
therefore, to go. Elizaheth was pleased; though
when she asked herself the reason, she had very
little to say in reply. x
Mr. Gardiner left them soon after breakfast. The
fishing scheme had been renewed the day before,
and a positive engagement made of his meeting
some of the gentlemen at Pemberley by noon.
I
\
CHAPTER XII.
Convinced as Elizabeth now was that Miss
Bingley's dislike of her had originated in jeal-
ousy, she could not help feeling how very unwel-
come her appearance at Pemberley must be to her,
and was curious to know with how much civility
on that lady's side the acquaintance would now
be renewed.
On reaching the house, they were shown through
the hall into the saloon, whose northern aspect
rendered it delightful for summer. Its windows,
opening to the ground, admitted a most refresh-
ing view of the high woody hills behind the house,
and of the beautiful oaks and Spanish chestnuts
which were scattered over the intermediate lawn.
In this room they were received by Miss Darcy,
who was sitting there with Mrs. Hurst and Miss
Bingley, and the lady with whom she lived in Lon-
don. G-eorgiana's reception of them was very civil,
but attended with all that embarrassment which,
though proceeding from shyness and the fear of do-
ing wrong, would easily give to those who felt them-
selves inferior the belief of her being proud and
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 113
reserved. Mrs. Gardiner and her niece, however,
did her justice, and pitied her.
By Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley they were
noticed only by a courtesy; and on their being
seated, a pause, awkward as such pauses must
always be, succeeded for a few moments. It was
first broken by Mrs. Annesley, a genteel, agree-
able-looking woman, whose endeavor to introduce
some kind of discourse proved her to be more
truly well-bred than either of the others; and
between her and Mrs. Gardiner, with occasional
help from Elizabeth, the conversation was carried
on. Miss Darcy looked as if she wished for cour-
age enough to join in it; and sometimes did
venture a short sentence, when there was least
danger of its being heard.
Elizabeth soon saw that she was herself closely
watched by Miss Bingley, and that she could
not speak a word, especially to Miss Darcy, with-
out calling her attention. This observation would
not have prevented her from trying to talk to
the latter, had they not been seated at an incon-
venient distance; but she was not sorry to be
spared the necessity of saying much: her own
thoughts were employing her. She expected every
moment that some of the gentlemen would enter
the room: she wished, she feared, that the master
of the house might be amongst them ; and whether
she wished or feared it most, she could scarcely
VOL. II. — 8
114 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
determine. After sitting in this manner a quar-
ter of an hour without hearing Miss Bingley's
voice, Elizabeth was roused by receiving from her
a cold inquiry after the health of her family.
She answered with equal indifference and brevity,
and the other said no more.
The next variation which their visit afforded
was produced by the entrance of servants with
cold meat, cake, and a variety of all the finest
fruits in season; but this did not take place till
after many a significant look and smile from
Mrs. Annesley to Miss Darcy had been given,
to remind her of her post. There was now em-
ployment for the whole party; for though they
could not all talk, they could all eat; and the
beautiful pyramids of grapes, nectarines, and
peaches soon collected them round the table.
While thus engaged, Elizabeth had a fair op-
portunity of deciding whether she most feared
or wished for the appearance of Mr. Darcy, by
the feelings which prevailed on his entering the
room; and then, though but a moment before
she had believed her wishes to predominate, she
began to regret that he came.
He had been some time with Mr. Gardiner,
who with two or three other gentlemen from the
house was engaged by the river, and had left
him only on learning that the ladies of the family
intended a visit to Georgiana that morning. No
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 115
sooner did he appear, than Elizabeth wisely re-
solved to be perfectly easy and unembarrassed, —
a resolution the more necessary to be made, but
perhaps not the more easily kept, because she
saw that the suspicions of the whole party were
awakened against them, and that there was scarcely
an eye which did not watch his behavior when
he first came into the room. In no countenance
was attentive curiosity so strongly marked as in
Miss Bingley's, in spite of the smiles which over-
spread her face whenever she spoke to one of ita
objects; for jealousy had not yet made her desper-
ate, and her attentions to Mr. Darcy were by no
means over. Miss Darcy, on her brother's en-
trance, exerted herself much more to talk; and
Elizabeth saw that he was anxious for his sister
and herself to get acquainted, and forwarded, as
much as possible, every attempt at conversation on
either side. Miss Bingley saw all this likewise;
and in the imprudence of anger, took the first
opportunity of saying, with sneering civility, —
"Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the shire mili-
tia removed from Meryton? They must be a great
loss to your family.''
In Darcy's presence she dared not mention
Wickham's name; but Elizabeth instantly com-
prehended that he was uppermost in her thoughts,
and the various recollections connected with him
gave her a moment's distress; but exerting her-
116 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
self vigorously to repel the ill-natured attack,
she presently answered the question in a tolerably
disengaged tone. While she spoke, an involun-
tary glance showed her Darcy with a heightened
complexion earnestly looking at her, and his
sister overcome with confusion, and unable to
lift up her eyes. Had Miss Bingley known what
pain she was then giving her beloved friend, she
undoubtedly would have refrained from the hint;
but she had merely intended to discompose Eliza-
beth, by bringing forward the idea of a man to
whom she believed her partial, to make her betray
a sensibility which might injure her in Darcy's
opinion, and perhaps to remind the latter of all
the follies and absurdities by which some part
of her family were connected with that corps.
Not a syllable had ever reached her of Miss
Darcy's meditated elopement. To no creature had
it been revealed, where secrecy was possible, ex-
cept to Elizabeth; and from all Bingley's con-
nections her brother was particularly anxious to
conceal it, from that very wish which Elizabeth
had long ago attributed to him, of their becoming
hereafter her own. He had certainly formed such
a plan; and without meaning that it should affect
his endeavor to separate him from Miss Bennet,
it is probable that it might add something to his
lively concern for the welfare of his friend.
Elizabeth's collected behavior, however, soon
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 117
quieted his emotion; and as Miss Bingley, vexed
and disappointed, dared not approach nearer to
Wickham, Georgiana also recovered in time,
though not enough to be able to speak any more.
Her brother, whose eye she feared to meet, scarcely
recollected her interest in the affair; and the very
circumstance which had been designed to turn his
thoughts from Elizabeth seemed to have fixed
them on her more and more cheerfully.
Their visit did not continue long after the ques-
tion and answer above mentioned; and while Mr.
Darcy was attending them to their carriage, Miss
Bingley was venting her feelings in criticisms
on Elizabeth's person, behavior, and dress. But
Georgiana would not join her. Her brother's
recommendation was enough to insure her favor:
his judgment could not err; and he had spoken in
such terms of Elizabeth as to leave Georgiana
without the power of finding her otherwise than
lovely and amiable. When Darcy returned to the
saloon, Miss Bingley could not help repeating to
him some part of what she had been saying to his
sister.
"How very ill Eliza Bennet looks this morn-
ing, Mr. Darcy! " she cried. "I never in my life
saw any one so much altered as she is since the
winter. She is grown so brown and coarse!
Louisa and I were agreeing that we should not
have known her again.' '
118 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
However little Mr. Darcy might have liked such
an address, he contented himself with coolly re-
plying that he perceived no other alteration than
her heing rather tanned, — no miraculous conse-
quence of travelling in the summer.
"For my own part," she rejoined, "I must
confess that I never could see any heauty in her.
Her face is too thin ; her complexion has no bril-
liancy, and her features are not at all handsome.
Her nose wants character ; there is nothing marked
in its lines. Her teeth are tolerable, but not out
of the common way; and as for her eyes, which
have sometimes been called so fine, I never could
perceive anything extraordinary in them. They
have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do not like
at all; and in her air altogether there is a self-
sufficiency without fashion, which is intolerable."
Persuaded as Miss Bingley was that Darcy ad-
mired Elizabeth, this was not the best method of
recommending herself; but angry people are not
always wise ; and in seeing him at last look some-
what nettled, she had all the success she expected.
He was resolutely silent, however; and from a de-
termination of making him speak, she continued, —
"I remember, when we first knew her in Hert-
fordshire, how amazed we all were to find that she
was a reputed beauty ; and I particularly recollect
your saying one night, after they had been dining
at Netherfield, ' She a beauty ! I should as soon
\!
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 119
call her mother a wit. ' But afterwards she seemed
to improve on you, and I believe you thought her
rather pretty at one time."
"Yes," replied Darcy, who could contain him-
self no longer, "but that was only when I first
knew her; for it is many months since I have con-
sidered her as one of the handsomest women of my
acquaintance."
He then went away, and Miss Bingley was left
to all the satisfaction of having forced him to say
what gave no one any pain but herself.
Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth talked of all that
had occurred during their visit as they returned,
except what had particularly interested them both.
The looks and behavior of everybody they had
seen were discussed, except of the person who had
mostly engaged their attention. They talked of
his sister, his friends, his house, his fruit, of
everything but himself; yet Elizabeth was long-
ing to know what Mrs. Gardiner thought of him,
and Mrs. Gardiner would have been highly grati-
fied by her niece's beginning the subject.
/
CHAPTER XIII.
Elizabeth had been a good deal disappointed in
not finding a letter from Jane on their first arrival
at Lambton, and this disappointment had been
renewed on each of the mornings that had now
been spent there; but on the third her repining
was over, and her sister justified, by the receipt of
two letters from her at once, on one of which
was marked that it had been missent elsewhere.
Elizabeth was not surprised at it, as Jane had
written the direction remarkably ill.
They had just been preparing to walk as the
letters came in; and her uncle and aunt, leaving
her to enjoy them in quiet, set off by themselves.
The one missent must be first attended to; it had
been written five days ago. The beginning con-
tained an account of all their little parties and
engagements, with such news as the country
afforded; but the latter half, which was dated a
day later, and written in evident agitation, gave
more important intelligence. It was to this
effect : —
" Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has
occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature ; but
I am afraid of alarming you, — be assured that we are
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 121
all well. What I have to say relates to poor Lydia. An
express came at twelve last night, just as we were all
gone to bed, from Colonel Forster, to inform us that she
was gone off to Scotland with one of his officers ; to own
the truth, with Wickham ! Imagine our surprise. To
Kitty, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected.
I am very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both
sides 1 But I am willing to hope the best, and that his
character has been misunderstood. Thoughtless and in-
discreet I can easily believe him, but this step (and let
us rejoice over it) marks nothing bad at heart. His
choice is disinterested at least, for he must know my
father can give her nothing. Our poor mother is sadly
grieved. My father bears it better. How thankful am
I that we never let them know what has been said against
him ; we must forget it ourselves. They were off Satur-
day night about twelve, as is conjectured, but were not
missed till yesterday morning at eight. The express was
sent off directly. My dear Lizzy, they must have passed
within ten miles of us. Colonel Forster gives us reason
to expect him here soon. Lydia left a few lines for his
wife, informing her of their intention. I must conclude,
for I cannot be long from my poor mother. I am afraid
you will not be able to make it out, but I hardly know
what I have written."
Without allowing herself time for consideration,
and scarcely knowing what she felt, Elizabeth, on
finishing this letter, instantly seized the other,
and opening it with the utmost impatience, read
as follows : it had been written a day later than
the conclusion of the first.
" By this time, my dearest sister, you have received my
hurried letter ; I wish this may be more intelligible, but
122 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
though not confined for time, my head is so bewildered
that I cannot answer for being coherent. Dearest Lizzy,
I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news
for you, and it cannot be delayed. Imprudent as a mar-
riage between Mr. Wickham and our poor Lydia would
be, we are now anxious to be assured it has taken place,
for there is but too much reason to fear they are not gone
to Scotland. Colonel Forster came yesterday, having
left Brighton the day before, not many hours after the
express. Though Lydia's short letter to Mrs. F. gave
them to understand that they were going to Gretna
Green, something was dropped by Denny expressing his
belief that W. never intended to go there, or to marry
Lydia at all, which was repeated to Colonel F., who, in-
stantly taking the alarm, set off from B., intending to
trace their route. He did trace them easily to Clapham,
but no farther ; for on entering that place, they removed
;nto a hackney-coach, and dismissed the chaise that
brought them from Epsom. All that is known after this
is that they were seen to continue the London road. I
know not what to think. After making every possible
inquiry on that side London, Colonel F. came on into
Hertfordshire, anxiously renewing them at all the turn-
pikes, and at the inns in Barnet and Hatfield, but with-
out any success, — no such people had been seen to pass
through. With the kindest concern he came on to Long-
bourn, and broke his apprehensions to us in a manner
most creditable to his heart. I am sincerely grieved for
him and Mrs. F. ; but no one can throw any blame on
them. Our distress, my dear Lizzy, is very great. My
father and mother believe the worst, but I cannot think
so ill of him. Many circumstances might make it more
eligible for them to be married privately in town than to
pursue their first plan ; and even if he could form such a
design against a young woman of Lydia's connections,
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 123
which is not likely, can I suppose her so lost to every-
thing ? Impossible 1 I grieve to find, however, that
Colonel F. is not disposed to depend upon their mar-
riage ; he shook his head when I expressed my hopes,
and said he feared W. was not a man to be trusted. My
poor mother is really ill, and keeps her room. Could she
exert herself, it would be better, but this is not to be ex-
pected ; and as to my father, I never in my life saw him
so affected. Poor Kitty has anger for having concealed
their attachment ; but as it was a matter of confidence,
one cannot wonder. I am truly glad, dearest Lizzy,
that you have been spared something of these distressing
scenes ; but now, as the first shock is over, shall I own
that I long for your return? I am not so selfish, how-
ever, as to press for it, if inconvenient. Adieu ! I take
up my pen again to do what I have just told you I would
not ; but circumstances are such that I cannot help ear-
nestly begging you all to come here as soon as possible.
I know my dear uncle and aunt so well that I am not
afraid of requesting it, though I have still something
more to ask of the former. My father is going to Lon-
don with Colonel Forster instantly, to try to discover
her. What he means to do, I am sure I know not ; but
his excessive distress will not allow him to pursue any
measure in the best and safest way, and Colonel Forster
is obliged to be at Brighton again to-morrow evening. In
such an exigence my uncle's advice and assistance would
be everything in the world ; he will immediately compre-
hend what I must feel, and I rely upon his goodness."
"Oh! where, where is my uncle? " cried Eliza-
beth, darting from her seat as she finished the
letter, in eagerness to follow him, without losing
a moment of the time so precious; but as she
124 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
reached the door, it was opened by a servant, and
Mr. Darcy appeared. Her pale face and impetu-
ous manner made him start, and before he could
recover himself enough to speak, she, in whose
mind every idea was superseded by Lydia's situa-
tion, hastily exclaimed: "I beg your pardon, but
I must leave you. I must find Mr. Gardiner this
moment on business that cannot be delayed; I
have not an instant to lose."
"Good God! what is the matter?" cried he,
with more feeling than politeness ; then recollect-
ing himself, "I will not detain you a minute;
but let me, or let the servant, go after Mr. and
Mrs. Gardiner. You are not well enough; you
cannot go yourself."
Elizabeth hesitated; but her knees trembled
under her, and she felt how little would be gained
by her attempting to pursue them. Calling back
the servant, therefore, she commissioned him,
though in so breathless an accent as made her
almost unintelligible, to fetch his master and
mistress home instantly.
On his quitting the room, she sat down, unable to
support herself, and looking so miserably ill that
it was impossible for Darcy to leave her, or to
refrain from saying, in a tone of gentleness and
commiseration: "Let me call your maid. Is
there nothing you could take to give you present
relief? A glass of wine; shall T get you one?
You are very ill."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 125
"No, I thank you," she replied, endeavoring
to recover herself. " There is nothing the matter
with me. I am quite well, I am only distressed
by some dreadful news which I have just received
from Longbourn."
She burst into tears as she alluded to it, and
for a few minutes could not speak another word.
Darcy, in wretched suspense, could only say some-
thing indistinctly of his concern, and observe her
in compassionate silence. At length she spoke
again: "I have just had a letter from Jane, with
such dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from
any one. My youngest sister has left all her
friends, — has eloped; has thrown herself into the
power of — of Mr. Wickham. They are gone off
together from Brighton. You know him too well
to doubt the rest. She has no money, no connec-
tions, nothing that can tempt him to — She is
lost forever."
Darcy was fixed in astonishment. "When I
consider," she added in a yet more agitated voice,
"that I might have prevented it! I, who knew
what he was, — had I but explained some part of
it only, some part of what I learned, to my own
family ! Had his character been known, this
could not have happened. But it is all, all too
late now."
"I am grieved, indeed," cried Darcy; "grieved,
shocked. But is it certain, absolutely certain?"
126 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
"Oh, yes! They left Brighton together on
Sunday night, and were traced almost to London,
but not beyond j they are certainly not gone to
Scotland.' '
"And what has been done, what has been at-
tempted, to recover her?"
' t My father has gone to London, and Jane has
written to beg my uncle's immediate assistance,
and we shall be off, I hope, in half an hour.
But nothing can be done; I know very well that
nothing can be done. How is such a man to be
worked on? How are they even to be discovered?
I have not the smallest hope. It is every way
horrible! "
Darcy shook his head in silent acquiescence.
" When my eyes were open to his real character.
Oh! had I known what I ought, what I dared to
do! But I knew not, — I was afraid of doing too
much. 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 in-
stantly understood it. Her power was sinking;
everything must sink under such a proof of family
weakness, such an assurance of the deepest dis-
grace. She could neither wonder nor condemn;
but the belief of his self-conquest brought nothing
consolatory to her bosom, afforded no palliation
6v
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 127
of her distress. It was, on the contrary, exactly-
calculated to make her understand her own wishes ;
and never had she so honestly felt that she could
have loved him, as now, when all love must be
vain.
But self, though it would intrude, could not
engross her. Lydia — the humiliation, the mis-
ery she was bringing on them all — soon swal-
lowed up every private care; and covering her
face with her handkerchief, Elizabeth was soon
lost to everything else; and after a pause of sev-
eral minutes, was only recalled to a sense of her
situation by the voice of her companion, who in
a manner which, though it spoke compassion,
spoke likewise restraint, said: "I am afraid you
have been long desiring my absence, nor have I
anything to plead in excuse of my stay, but real
though unavailing concern. Would to Heaven
that anything could be either said or done on my
part that might offer consolation to such distress.
But I will not torment you with vain wishes,
which may seem purposely to ask for your thanks.
This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my
sister's having the pleasure of seeing you at Pem-
berley to-day.' '
"Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologize for us to
Miss Darcy. Say that urgent business calls us
home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as
long as it is possible. I know it cannot be long."
128 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
He readily assured her of his secrecy, again
expressed his sorrow for her distress, wished it a
happier conclusion than there was at present rea-
son to hope, and leaving his compliments for her
relations, with only one serious parting look, went
away.
As he quitted the room, Elizabeth felt how im-
probable it was that they should ever see each
other again on such terms of cordiality as had
marked their several meetings in Derbyshire; and
as she threw a retrospective glance over the whole
of their acquaintance, so full of contradictions and
varieties, sighed at the perverseness of those feel-
ings which would now have promoted its contin-
uance, and would formerly have rejoiced in its
termination.
If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of
affection, Elizabeth's change of sentiment will be
neither improbable nor faulty. But if otherwise,
if the regard springing from such sources is unrea-
sonable or unnatural, in comparison of what is so
often described as arising on a first interview with
its object, and even before two words have been
exchanged, nothing can be said in her defence,
except that she had given somewhat of a trial to
the latter method, in her partiality for Wickham,
and that its ill success might, perhaps, authorize
her to seek the other less interesting mode of
attachment. Be that as it may, she saw him go
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 129
with regret; and in this early example of what
Lydia's infamy must produce, found additional
anguish as she reflected on that wretched business.
Never since reading Jane's second letter had she
entertained a hope of Wickham's meaning to
marry her. No one but Jane, she thought, could
flatter herself with such an expectation. Surprise
was the least of all her feelings on this develop-
ment. While the contents of the first letter re-
mained on her mind, she was all surprise, all
astonishment, that Wickham should marry a girl
whom it was impossible he could marry for money;
and how Lydia could ever have attached him had
appeared incomprehensible. But now it was all
too natural. For such an attachment as this, she
might have sufficient charms; and though she did
not suppose Lydia to be deliberately engaging in
an elopement, without the intention of marriage,
she had no difficulty in believing that neither her
virtue nor her understanding would preserve her
from falling an easy prey.
She had never perceived, while the regiment
was in Hertfordshire, that Lydia had any par-
tiality for him; but she was convinced that Lydia
had wanted only encouragement to attach herself
to anybody. Sometimes one officer, sometimes an-
other, had been her favorite, as their attentions
raised them in her opinion. Her affections had
been continually fluctuating, but never without an
130 PKIDE AND PREJUDICE.
object. The mischief of neglect and mistaken in-
dulgence towards such a girl, — oh, how acutely
did she now feel it!
She was wild to be at home, — to hear, to see, to
be upon the spot to share with Jane in the cares
that must now fall wholly upon her, in a family so
deranged; a father absent, a mother incapable of
exertion, and requiring constant attendance; and
though almost persuaded that nothing could be
done for Lydia, her uncle's interference seemed of
the utmost importance, and till he entered the
room the misery of her impatience was severe.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had hurried back in alarm,
supposing, by the servant's account, that their
niece was taken suddenly ill; but satisfying them
instantly on that head, she eagerly communicated
the cause of their summons, reading the two letters
aloud, and dwelling on the postscript of the last
with trembling energy, though Lydia had never
been a favorite with them. Mr. and Mrs. Gardi-
ner could not but be deeply afflicted. Not Lydia
only, but all were concerned in it; and after the
first exclamations of surprise and horror, Mr.
Gardiner readily promised every assistance in
his power. Elizabeth, though expecting no less,
thanked him with tears of gratitude; and all three
being actuated by one spirit, everything relating
to their journey was speedily settled. They were
to be off as soon as possible. "But what is to be
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 131
done about Pemberley?" cried Mrs. Gardiner.
" John told us Mr. Darcy was here when you sent
for us; was it so?"
"Yes j and I told him we should not be able to
keep our engagement. That is all settled."
"What is all settled?" repeated the other, as
she ran into her room to prepare. " And are they
upon such terms as for her to disclose the real
truth? Oh that I knew how it was! "
But wishes were vain, or at best could serve
only to amuse her in the hurry and confusion of
the following hour. Had Elizabeth been at leisure
to be idle, she would have remained certain that
all employment was impossible to one so wretched
as herself; but she had her share of business as
well as her aunt, and amongst the rest there were
notes td be written to all their friends at Lambton
with false excuses for their sudden departure. An
hour, however, saw the whole completed; and Mr.
Gardiner meanwhile having settled his account
at the inn, nothing remained to be done but to go;
and Elizabeth, after all the misery of the morning,
found herself, in a shorter space of time than she
could have supposed, seated in the carriage, and
on the road to Longbourn.
CHAPTER XIV.
" I have been thinking it over again, Elizabeth,"
said her uncle, as they drove from the townj "and
really, upon serious consideration, I am much more
inclined than I was to judge as your eldest sister
does of the matter. It appears to me so very un-
likely that any young man should form such a
design against a girl who is by no means unpro-
tected or friendless, and who was actually staying
in his Colonel's family, that I am strongly in-
clined to hope the best. Could he expect that her
friends would not step forward? Could he expect
to be noticed again by the regiment, after such an
affront to Colonel Forster? His temptation is not
adequate to the risk."
"Do you really think so?" cried Elizabeth,
brightening up for a moment.
"Upon my word," said Mrs. Gardiner, "I
begin to be of your uncle's opinion. It is really
too great a violation of decency, honor, and in-
terest, for him to be guilty of it. I cannot think
so very ill of Wickham. Can you yourself, Lizzy,
so wholly give him up as to believe him capable
of it? "
FHIDE AND PREJUDICE 133
"Not perhaps of neglecting his own interest;
but of every other neglect I can believe him ca-
pable. If, indeed, it should be so! But I dare
not hope it. Why should they not go on to Scot-
land, if that had been the case? "
"In the first place/ ? replied Mr. Gardiner,
" there is no absolute proof that they are not gone
to Scotland.""
" Oh, but their removing from the chaise into a
hackney coach is such a presumption! And, be-
sides, no traces of them were to be found on the
Barnet road."
"Well, then, supposing them to be in Lon-
don, they may be there, though for the purpose of
concealment, for no more exceptionable purpose.
It is not likely that money should be very abun-
dant on either side ; and it might strike them that
they could be more economically though less expedi-
tiously married in London than in Scotland."
"But why all this secrecy? Why any fear of
detection? Why must their marriage be private?
Oh, no, no, this is not likely. His most particular
friend, you see by Jane's account, was persuaded
of his never intending to marry her. Wickham
will never marry a woman without some money.
He cannot afford it. And what claims has Lydia,
what attractions has she beyond youth, health, and
good-humor, that could make him for her sake
forego every chance of benefiting himself by marry-
134 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
ing well ! As to what restraint the apprehensions
of disgrace in the corps might throw on a dishonor-
able elopement with her, I am not able to judge;
for I know nothing of the effects that such a step
might produce. But as to your other objection, I
am afraid it will hardly hold good. Lydia has no
brothers to step forward; and he might imagine,
from my father's behavior, from his indolence and
the little attention he has ever seemed to give to
what was going forward in his family, that he
would do as little and think as little about it, as
any father could do, in such a matter."
"But can you think that Lydia is so lost to
everything but love of him, as to consent to live
with him on any other terms than marriage?"
"It does seem, and it is most shocking, in-
deed," replied Elizabeth, with tears in her eyes,
"that a sister's sense of decency and virtue in
such a point should admit of doubt. But, really,
I know not what to say. Perhaps I am not doing
her justice. But she is very young: she has never
been taught to think on serious subjects; and for
the last half year, nay, for a twelvemonth, she has
been given up to nothing but amusement and
vanity. She has been allowed to dispose of her
time in the most idle and frivolous manner, and to
adopt any opinions that came in her way. Since
the shire were first quartered in Meryton,
nothing but love, flirtation, and officers has been
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 135
in her head. She has been doing everything in her
power, by thinking and talking on the subject, to
give greater — what shall I call it? — susceptibility
to her feelings, which are naturally lively enough ;
and we all know that Wickham has every charm
of person and address that can captivate a woman."
"But you see that Jane," said her aunt, "does
not think so ill of Wickham as to believe him
capable of the attempt."
" Of whom does Jane ever think ill? And who
is there, whatever might be their former conduct,
that she would believe capable of such an attempt,
till it were proved against them? But Jane knows,
as well as I do, what Wickham really is. We
both know that he has been profligate in every
sense of the word; that he has neither integrity
nor honor ; that he is as false and deceitful as he
is insinuating."
" And do you really know all this? " cried Mrs.
Gardiner, whose curiosity as to the mode of her
intelligence was all alive.
"I dc, indeed," replied Elizabeth, coloring.
"I tola you the other day of his infamous be-
havior to Mr. Darcy; and you yourself, when last
at Longbourn, heard in what manner he spoke of
the man who had behaved with such forbearance
and liberality towards him. And there are other
circumstances which I am not at liberty — which
it is not worth while to relate j but his lies about
136 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
the whole Pemberley family are endless. From
what he said of Miss Darcy, I was thoroughly pre-
pared to see a proud, reserved, disagreeable girl.
Yet he knew to the contrary himself. He must
know that she was as amiable and unpretending as
we have found her."
"But does Lydia know nothing of this; can she
be ignorant of what you and Jane seem so well to
understand? M
" Oh, yes! that— -that is the worst of all. Till
I was in Kent, and saw so much both of Mr. Darcy
and his relation Colonel Fitzwilliam, I was igno-
rant of the truth myself. And when I returned
home the shire was to leave Meryton in a
week or fortnight's time. As that was the case,
neither Jane, to whom I related the whole, nor I
thought it necessary to make our knowledge pub-
lic ; for of what use could it apparently be to any
one, that the good opinion which all the neighbor-
hood had of him should then be overthrown? And
even when it was settled that Lydia should go
with Mrs. Forster, the necessity of opening her
eyes to his character never occurred to me. That
she could be in any danger from the deception
never entered my head. That such a consequence
as this should ensue, you may easily believe was
far enough from my thoughts/ '
"When they all removed to Brighton, therefore,
you had no reason, I suppose, to believe them fond
of each other? "
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 137
"Not the slightest. I can remember no symp-
tom of affection on either side ; and had anything
of the kind been perceptible, you must be aware
that ours is not a family on which it could be
thrown away. When first he entered the corps,
she was ready enough to admire him; but so we all
were. Every girl in or near Meryton was out of
her senses about him for the first two months : but
he never distinguished her by any particular atten-
tion; and consequently, after a moderate period of
extravagant and wild admiration, her. fancy for
him gave way, and others of the regiment, who
treated her with more distinction, again became
her favorites.' '
It may be easily believed that however little of
novelty could be added to their fears, hopes, and
conjectures on this interesting subject by its re-
peated discussion, no other could detain them from
it long, during the whole of the journey. From
Elizabeth's thoughts it was never absent. Fixed
there by the keenest of all anguish, self-reproach,
she could find no interval of ease or forgetfulness.
They travelled as expeditiously as possible; and
sleeping one night on the road, reached Longbourn
by dinner-time the next day. It was a comfort to
Elizabeth to consider that Jane could not have
been wearied by long expectations.
The little Gardiners, attracted by the sight of a
chaise, were standing on the steps of the house, as
*
138 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
they entered the paddock; and when the carriage
drove up to the door, the joyful surprise that
lighted up their faces and displayed itself over
their whole bodies, in a variety of capers and
frisks, was the first pleasing earnest of their
welcome.
Elizabeth jumped out; and after giving each of
them a hasty kiss, hurried into the vestibule,
where Jane, who came running downstairs from
her mother's apartment, immediately met her.
Elizabeth, as she affectionately embraced her,
whilst tears filled the eyes of both, lost not a
moment in asking whether anything had been
heard of the fugitives.
"Not yet," replied Jane. "But now that my
dear uncle is come, I hope everything will be
well."
" Is my father in town? "
"Yes; he went on Tuesday, as I wrote you
word."
" And have you heard from him often? "
" We have heard only once. He wrote me a few
lines on Wednesday, to say that he had arrived in
safety, and to give me his directions, which I par-
ticularly begged him to do. He merely added
that he should not write again till he had some-
thing of importance to mention."
" And my mother, — how is she? How are you
all?"
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 139
"My mother is tolerably well, I trust, though
her spirits are greatly shaken. She is upstairs, and
will have great satisfaction in seeing you all. She
does not yet leave her dressing-room. Mary and
Kitty, thank Heaven! are quite well."
"But you — how are you?" cried Elizabeth.
" You look pale. How much you must have gone
through! "
Her sister, however, assured her of her being
perfectly well; and their conversation, which had
been passing while Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were
engaged with their children, was now put an end
to by the approach of the whole party. Jane ran
to her uncle and aunt, and welcomed and thanked
them both, with alternate smiles and tears.
When they were all in the drawing-room, the
questions which Elizabeth had already asked were
of course repeated by the others, and they soon
found that Jane had no intelligence to give. The
sanguine hope of good, however, which the benevo-
lence of her heart suggested, had not yet deserted
her; she still expected that it would all end well,
and that every morning would bring some letter,
either from Lydia or her father, to explain their
proceedings, and perhaps announce the marriage.
Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all re-
paired, after a few minutes' conversation together,
received them exactly as might be expected, — with
tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against
140 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
the villanous conduct of Wickham, and complaints
of her own sufferings and ill-usage; blaming
everybody but the person to whose ill-judging
indulgence the errors of her daughter must be
principally owing.
"If I had been able," said she, "to carry my
point in going to Brighton with all my family,
this would not have happened; but poor dear Lydia
had nobody to take care of her. Why did the
Forsters ever let her go out of their sight? I am
sure there was some great neglect or other on their
side, for she is not the kind of girl to do such a
thing, if she had been well looked after. I always
thought they were very unfit to have the charge of
her; but I was overruled, as I always am. Poor,
dear child! And now here 's Mr. Bennet gone
away, and I know he will fight Wickham, wher-
ever he meets him, and then he will be killed, and
what is to become of us all? The Collinses will
turn us out, before he is cold in his grave; and if
you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know
what we shall do."
They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas;
and Mr. Gardiner, after general assurances of his
affection for her and all her family, told her that
he meant to be in London the very next day, and
would assist Mr. Bennet in every endeavor for
recovering Lydia.
"Do not give way to useless alarm," added he;
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 141
"though it is right to be prepared for the worst,
there is no occasion to look on it as certain. It is
not quite a week since they left Brighton. In a
few days more we may gain some news of them;
and till we know that they are not married, and
have no design of marrying, do not let us give the
matter over as lost. As soon as I get to town, I
shall go to my brother, and make him come home
with me to Gracechurch Street, and then we may
consult together as to what is to be done."
"Oh, my dear brother,' ' replied Mrs. Bennet,
" that is exactly what I could most wish for. And
now do, when you get to town, find them out,
wherever they may be ; and if they are not married
already, make them marry. And as for wedding-
clothes, do not let them wait for that, but tell
Lydia she shall have as much money as she chooses
to buy them, after they are married. And, above
all things, keep Mr. Bennet from fighting. Tell
him what a dreadful state I am in, — that I am
frightened out of my wits, and have such trem-
blings, such flutterings, all over me, such spasms
in my side and pains in my head, and such beat-
ings at heart, that I can get no rest by night nor
by day. And tell my dear Lydia not to give any
directions about her clothes till she has seen me,
for she does not know which are the best ware-
houses. Oh, brother, how kind you are ! I know
you will contrive it all."
142 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again
of his earnest endeavors in the cause, could not
avoid recommending moderation to her, as well in
her hopes as her fears ; and after talking with her
in this manner till dinner was on table, they left
her to vent all her feelings on the housekeeper,
who attended in the absence of her daughters.
Though her brother and sister were persuaded
that there was ho real occasion for such a seclusion
from the family, they did not attempt to oppose
it, for they knew that she had not prudence enough
to hold her tongue before the servants, while they
waited at table, and judged it better that one only
of the household, and the one whom they could
most trust, should comprehend all her fears and
solicitude on the subject.
In the dining-room they were soon joined by
Mary and Kitty, who had been too busily engaged
in their separate apartments to make their appear-
ance before. One came from her books, and the
other from her toilette. The faces of both, however,
were tolerably calm; and no change was visible in
either, except that the loss of her favorite sister,
or the anger which she had herself incurred in the
business, had given something more of fretfulness
than usual to the accents of Kitty. As for Mary,
she was mistress enough of herself to whisper to
Elizabeth, with a countenance of grave reflection,
soon after they were seated at table, —
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 143
"This is a most unfortunate affair, and will
probably be much talked of; but we must stem the
tide of malice, and pour into the wounded bosoms
of each other the balm of sisterly consolation."
Then perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of
replying, she added: "Unhappy as the event must
be for Lydia, we may draw from it this useful les-
son, — that loss of virtue in a female is irretriev-
able, that one false step involves her in endless
ruin, that her reputation is no less brittle than it
is beautiful, and that she cannot be too much
guarded in her behavior towards the undeserving
of the other sex."
Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but
was too much oppressed to make any reply. Mary,
however, continued to console herself with such
kind of moral extractions from the evil before
them.
Ihl the afternoon the two elder Miss Bennets
were able to be for half an hour by themselves;
and Elizabeth instantly availed herself of the op-
portunity of making any inquiries which Jane was
equally eager to satisfy. After joining in gen-
eral lamentations over the dreadful sequel of this
event, which Elizabeth considered as all but cer-
tain, and Miss Bennet could not assert to be
wholly impossible, the former continued the sub-
ject, by saying, "But tell me all and everything
about it which I have not already heard. Give
144 PEIDE AND PREJUDICE.
me further particulars. What did Colonel Fors-
ter say? Had they no apprehension of anything
before the elopement took place? They must have
seen them together forever.* '
"Colonel Forster did own that he had often sus-
pected some partiality, especially on Lydia's side,
but nothing to give him any alarm. I am so
grieved for him. His behavior was attentive and
kind to the utmost. He was coming to us, in
order to assure us of his concern, before he had
any idea of their not being gone to Scotland; when
that apprehension first got abroad, it hastened his
journey.' '
"And was Denny convinced that Wickham
would not marry? Did he know of their intend-
ing to go off? Had Colonel Forster seen Denny
himself? "
"Yes; but when questioned by him Denny de-
nied knowing anything of their plan, and would
not give his real opinion about it. He did not
repeat his persuasion of their not marrying, and
from that I am inclined to hope he might have
been misunderstood before."
"And till Colonel Forster came himself, not
one of you entertained a doubt, I suppose, of their
being really married? "
"How was it possible that such an idea should
enter our brains? I felt a little uneasy, a little
fearful of my sister's happiness with him in mar
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 145
riage, because I knew that his conduct had not
been always quite right. My father and mother
knew nothing of that, they only felt how im-
prudent a match it must be. Kitty then owned,
with a very natural triumph on knowing more
than the rest of us, that in Lydia's last letter she
had prepared her for such a step. She had known,
it seems, of their being in love with each other
many weeks.' '
"But not before they went to Brighton? "
"No, I believe not."
"And did Colonel Forster appear to think ill
of Wickham himself? Does he know his real
character?"
"I must confess that he did not speak so well
of Wickham as he formerly did. He believed him
to be imprudent and extravagant; and since this
sad affair has taken place, it is said that he left
Meryton greatly in debt : but I hope this may be
false."
"Oh, Jane, had we been less secret, had we
told what we knew of him, this could not have
happened! "
"Perhaps it would have been better," replied
her sister.
"But to expose the former faults of any person
without knowing what their present feelings were,
seemed unjustifiable."
"We acted with the best intentions."
VOL. II. — 10
146 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
" Could Colonel Forster repeat the particulars
of Lydia's note to his wife?"
" He brought it with him for us to see."
Jane then took it from her pocket-book, and
gave it to Elizabeth. These were the contents :
My dear Harriet, — You will laugh when you
know where I am gone, and I cannot help laughing
myself at your surprise to-morrow morning, as soon as I
am missed. I am going to Gretna Green; and if you
cannot guess with who, I shall think you a simpleton, for
there is but one man in the world I love, and he is an
angel. I should never be happy without him, so think it
no harm to be off. You need not send them word at
Longbourn of my going, if you do not like it, for it will
make the surprise the greater when I write to them, and
sign my name Lydia Wickham. What a good joke it
will be ! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make
my excuses to Pratt for not keeping my engagement, and
dancing with him to-night. Tell him I hope he will
excuse me when he knows all, and tell him I will dance
with him at the next ball we meet with great pleasure.
I shall send for my clothes when I get to Longbourn ;
but I wish you would tell Sally to mend a great slit in
my worked muslin gown before they are packed up.
Good-by. Give my love to Colonel Forster. I hope
you will drink to our good journey.
Your affectionate friend,
Lydia Bennet.
"Oh, thoughtless, thoughtless Lydia! " cried
Elizabeth, when she had finished it. " What a
letter is this, to be written at such a moment!
But at least it shows that she was serious in the
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 147
object of her journey. Whatever he might after
wards persuade her to, it was not on her side a
scheme of infamy. My poor father! how he must
have felt it!"
"I never saw any one so shocked. He could
not speak a word for full ten minutes. My mother
was taken ill immediately, and the whole house in
such confusion! "
"Oh, Jane," cried Elizabeth, "was there a
servant belonging to it who did not know the
whole story before the end of the day?"
"I do not know; I hope there was: but to be
guarded at such a time is very difficult. My
mother was in hysterics; and though I endeav-
ored to give her every assistance in my power, I
am afraid I did not do so much as I might have
done; but the horror of what might possibly
happen almost took from me my faculties."
' ' Your attendance upon her has been too much
for you. You do not look well. Oh that I had
been with you! You have had every care and
anxiety upon yourself alone."
"Mary and Kitty have been very kind, and would
have shared in every fatigue, I am sure, but I did
not think it right for either of them. Kitty is
slight and delicate, and Mary studies so much
that her hours of repose should not be broken in
on. My aunt Philips came to Longbourn on
Tuesday, after my father went away, and was so
148 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
good as to stay till Thursday with me. She was
of great use and comfort to us all, and Lady Lucas
has been very kind : she walked here on Wednes-
day morning to condole with us, and offered her
services or any of her daughters, if they could be
of use to us."
"She had better have stayed at home," cried
Elizabeth; " perhaps she meant well, but under
such a misfortune as this, one cannot see too little
of one's neighbors. Assistance is impossible; con-
dolence, insufferable. Let them triumph over us
at a distance, and be satisfied.,,
She then proceeded to inquire into the measures
which her father had intended to pursue, while in
town, for the recovery of his daughter.
"He meant, I believe, " replied Jane, "to go
to Epsom, the place where they last changed
horses, see the postilions, and try if anything
could be made out from them. His principal
object must be to discover the number of the hack-
ney coach which took them from Clapham. It
had come with a fare from London; and as he
thought the circumstance of a gentleman and lady's
removing from one carriage into another might be
remarked, he meant to make inquiries at Clapham.
If he could anyhow discover at what house the
coachman had before set down his fare, he deter-
mined to make inquiries there, and hoped it might
not be impossible to find out the stand and num-
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 149
ber of the coach. I do not know of any other
designs that he had formed; but he was in such a
hurry to be gone, and his spirits so greatly dis-
composed, that I had difficulty in finding out even
so much as this '
CHAPTER XV.
The whole party were in hopes of a letter from
Mr. Bennet the next morning, but the post came
in without bringing a single line from him. His
family knew him to be, on all common occasions, a
most negligent and dilatory correspondent; but at
such a time they had hoped for exertion. They
were forced to conclude that he had no pleasing
intelligence to send, but even of that they would
have been glad to be certain. Mr. Gardiner had
waited only for the letters before he set off.
When he was gone, they were certain at least
of receiving constant information of what was go-
ing on; and their uncle promised, at parting, to
prevail on Mr. Bennet to return to Longbourn as
soon as he could, to the great consolation of his
sister, who considered it as the only security for
her husband's not being killed in a duel.
Mrs. Gardiner and the children were to remain
in Hertfordshire a few days longer, as the former
thought her presence might be serviceable to her
nieces. She shared in their attendance on Mrs.
Bennet, and was a great comfort to them in their
hours of freedom. Their other aunt also visited
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 151
them frequently, and always, as she said, with the
design of cheering and heartening them up, though,
as she never came without reporting some fresh
instance of Wickham's extravagance or irregu-
larity, she seldom went away without leaving them
more dispirited than she found them.
All Meryton seemed striving to blacken the man
who, but three months before, had been almost an*
angel of light. He was declared to be in debt to
every tradesman in the place; and his intrigues,
all honored with the title of seduction, had been
extended into every tradesman's family. Every-
body declared that he was the wickedest young
man in the world; and everybody began to find
out that they had always distrusted the appear-
ance of his goodness. Elizabeth, though she did
not credit above half of what was said, believed
enough to make her former assurance of her sis-
ter's ruin still more certain; and even Jane, who
believed still less of it, became almost hopeless,
more especially as the time was now come when,
if they had gone to Scotland, which she had never
before entirely despaired of, they must in all prob-
ability have gained some news of them.
Mr. Gardiner left Longbourn on Sunday; on
Tuesday his wife received a letter from him: it
told them that on his arrival he had immediately
found out his brother, and persuaded him to come
to Gracechurch Street; that Mr. Bennet had
152 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
been to Epsom and Clapham before his arrival,
but without gaining any satisfactory information;
and that he was now determined to inquire at all
the principal hotels in town, as Mr. Bennet
thought it possible they might have gone to one
of them, on their first coming to London, before
they procured lodgings. Mr. Gardiner himself
did not expect any success from this measure ; but
as his brother was eager in it, he meant to assist
him in pursuing it. He added that Mr. Bennet
seemed wholly disinclined at present to leave
London, and promised to write again very soon.
There was also a postscript to this effect: —
"I have written to Colonel Forster to desire him to
find out, if possible, from some of the young man's inti-
mates in the regiment, whether Wickham has any rela-
tions or connections who would be likely to know in what
part of the town he has now concealed himself. If there
were any one that one could apply to, with a probability
of gaining such a clew as that, it might be of essential
consequence. At present we have nothing to guide us.
Colonel Forster will, I dare say, do everything in his
power to satisfy us on this head. But, on second thoughts,
perhaps Lizzy could tell us what relations he has now
living better than any other person.'
>»
Elizabeth was at no loss to understand from
whence this deference for her authority proceeded;
but it was not in her power to give any information
of so satisfactory a nature as the compliment
deserved.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 153
She had never heard of his having had any
relations, except a father and mother, both of
whom had been dead many years. It was possi-
ble, however, that some of his companions in the
shire might be able to give more information;
and though she was not very sanguine in expect-
ing it, the application was a something to look
forward to.
Every day at Longbourn was now a day of anxi-
ety; but the most anxious part of each was when
the post was expected. The arrival of letters was
the first grand object of every morning's impa-
tience. Through letters whatever of good or bad
was to be told would be communicated, and every
succeeding day was expected to bring some news
of importance.
But before they heard again from Mr. Gar-
diner, a letter arrived for their father from a
different quarter, from Mr. Collins; which, as
Jane had received directions to open all that came
for him in his absence, she accordingly read; and
Elizabeth, who knew what curiosities his letters
always were, looked over her, and read it likewise.
It was as follows : —
My dear Sir, — I feel myself called upon, by our re-
lationship and my situation in life, to condole with you on
the grievous affliction you are now suffering under, of
which we were yesterday informed by a letter from
Hertfordshire. Be assured, my dear sir, that Mrs. Col-
lins and myself sincerely sympathize with you, and alJ
154 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
your respectable family, in your present distress, which
must be of the bitterest kind, because proceeding from a
cause which no time can remove. No arguments shall
be wanting on my part, that can alleviate so severe a
misfortune ; or that may comfort you, under a circum-
stance that must be, of all others, most afflicting to a
parent's mind. The death of your daughter would have
been a blessing in comparison of this. And it is the
more to be lamented, because there is reason to suppose,
as my dear Charlotte informs me, that this licentiousness
of behavior in your daughter has proceeded from a faulty
degree of indulgence ; though, at the same time, for the
consolation of yourself and Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined
to think that her own disposition must be naturally bad,
or she could not be guilty of such an enormity at so
early an age. Howsoever that may be, you are griev-
ously to be pitied, in which opinion I am not only joined
by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by Lady Catherine and her
daughter, to whom I have related/ the affair. They agree
, with me in apprehending thaj/this false step in one
V daughter will be injurious to the fortunes of all the
^ others ; for who, as Lady Catherine herself condescend-
ingly says, will connect themselves with such a family?^
And this consideration leads me, moreover, to reflect,
with augmented satisfaction, on a certain event of last
November ; for had it been otherwise, I must have been
involved in all your sorrow and disgrace. Let me advise
you, then, my dear sir, to console yourself as much as
possible, to throw off your unworthy child from your
affection forever, and leave her to reap the fruits of her
own heinous offence.
I am, dear sir, etc., etc.
Mr. Gardiner did not write again till he had
received an answer from Colonel Forsterj and
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 155
then lie had nothing of a pleasant nature to send.
It was not known that Wickham had a single
relation with whom he kept up any connection,
and it was certain that he had no near one living.
His former acquaintance had been numerous; but
since he had been in the militia, it did not appear
that he was on terms of particular friendship with
any of them. There was no one, therefore, who
could be pointed out as likely to give any news of
him. And in the wretched state of his own
finances there was a very powerful motive for
secrecy, in addition to his fear of discovery by
Lydia's relations; for it had just transpired that
he had left gaming debts behind him to a very
considerable amount. Colonel Forster believed
that more than a thousand pounds would be neces-
sary to clear his expenses at Brighton. He owed
a good deal in the town, but his debts of honor
were still more formidable. Mr. Gardiner did
not attempt to conceal these particulars from tho
Longbourn family. Jane heard them with horror.
"A gamester!" she cried. " This is wholly
unexpected; I had not an idea of it."
Mr. Gardiner added, in his letter, that they
might expect to see their father at home on the
following day, which was Saturday. Rendered
spiritless by the ill success of all their endeavors, he
had yielded to his brother-in-law's entreaty that
he would return to his family and leave it to him
156 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
to do whatever occasion might suggest to be
advisable for continuing their pursuit. When
Mrs. Bennet was told of this, she did not express
so much satisfaction as her children expected, con-
sidering what her anxiety for his life had been
before.
"What! is he coming home, and without poor
Lydia?" she cried. "Sure he will not leave
London before he has found them. Who is to
fight Wickham, and make him marry her, if he
comes away? "
As Mrs. Gardiner began to wish to be at home,
it was settled that she and her children should go
to London at the same time that Mr. Bennet came
from it. The coach therefore took them the
first stage of their journey, and brought its master
back to Longbourn.
Mrs. Gardiner went away in all the perplexity
about Elizabeth and her Derbyshire friend that
had attended her from that part of the world.
His name had never been voluntarily mentioned
before them by her niece; and the kind of half-
expectation which Mrs. Gardiner had formed, of
their being followed by a letter from him, had
ended in nothing. Elizabeth had received none
since her return, that could come from Pemberley,
The present unhappy state of the family rendered
any other excuse for the lowness of her spirits un-
necessary; nothing therefore could be fairly con-
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 157
jectured from that, though Elizaheth, who was by
this time tolerably well acquainted with her own
feelings, was perfectly aware that had she known
nothing of Darcy, she could have borne the dread
of Lydia's infamy somewhat better. It would
have spared her, she thought, one sleepless night
out of two.
When Mr. Bennet arrived, he had all the ap-
pearance of bis usual philosophic composure. He
said as little as he had ever been in the habit of
saying, made no mention of the business that had
taken him away, and it was some time before his
daughters had courage to speak of it.
It was not till the afternoon, when he joined
them at tea, that Elizabeth ventured to introduce
the subject; and then, on her briefly expressing
her sorrow for what he must have endured, he re-
plied: "Say nothing of that. Who should suffer
but myself? It has been my own doing, and I
ought to feel it."
"You must not be too severe upon yourself,"
replied Elizabeth.
"You may well warn me against such an evil.
Human nature is so prone to fall into it! No,
Lizzy, let me once in my life feel how much I have
been to blame. I am not afraid of being over-
powered by the impression. It will pass away
soon enough."
" Do you suppose them to be in London? "
158 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
u Yes ; where else can they be so well concealed? 9
"And Lydia used to want to go to London/'
added Kitty.
"She is happy, then," said her father, dryly;
" and her residence there will probably be of some
duration."
Then, after a short silence, he continued:
" Lizzy, I bear you no ill-will for being justified
in your advice to me last May, which, considering
the event, shows some greatness of mind."
They were interrupted by Miss Bennet, who
came to fetch her mother's tea.
"This is a parade," cried he, " which does one
good; it gives such an elegance to misfortune!
Another day I will do the same; I will sit in
my library, in my nightcap and powdering-gown,
and give as much trouble as I can, — or perhaps I
may defer it till Kitty runs away."
"I am not going to run away, papa," said
Kitty, fretfully. " If I should ever go to Brigh-
ton, I would behave better than Lydia."
" You go to Brighton! I would not trust you
so near it as East Bourne for fifty pounds! No,
Kitty, I have at least learned to be cautious, and
you will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever
to enter my house again, nor even to pass through
the village. Balls will be absolutely prohibited,
unless you stand up with one of your sisters. And
you are never to stir out of doors till you «jac
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 159
prove that you have spent ten minutes of every
day in a rational manner.' '
Kitty who took all these threats in a serious
light, began to cry.
"Well, well," said he, "do not make yourself
unhappy. If you are a good girl for the next ten
years, I will take you to a review at the end of
them."
CHAPTER XVI.
Two days after Mr. Bennet's return, as Jane and
Elizabeth were walking together in the shrubbery
behind the house, they saw the housekeeper coming
towards them, and concluding that she came to call
them to their mother, went forward to meet her;
but instead of the expected summons, when they
approached her, she said to Miss Bennet, "I beg
your pardon, madam, for interrupting you, but
I was in hopes you might have got some good
news from town, so I took the liberty of coming to
ask."
"What do you mean, Hill? We have heard
nothing from town."
"Dear madam," cried Mrs. Hill, in great as-
tonishment, "don't you know there is an express
come for master from Mr. Gardiner? He has
been here this half-hour, and master has had a
letter."
Away ran the girls, too eager to get in to have
time for speech. They ran through the vesti-
bule into the breakfast-room; from thence to the
library. Their father was in neither; and they
were on the point of seeking him upstairs with
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 161
their mother, when they were met by the butler,
who said, —
"If you are looking for my master, ma'am, he
is walking towards the little copse."
Upon this information, they instantly passed
through the hall once more, and ran across the
lawn after their father, who was deliberately pur-
suing his way towards a small wood on one side
of the paddock.
Jane, who was not so light nor so much in the
habit of running as Elizabeth, soon lagged behind;
while her sister, panting for breath, came up with
him, and eagerly cried out, —
" Oh, papa, what news, what news? Have you
heard from my uncle?"
"Yes, I have had a letter from him by express."
"Well, and what news does it bring, — good or
bad? "
"What is there of good to be expected?" said
he, taking the letter from his pocket; "but per-
haps you would like to read it."
Elizabeth impatiently caught it from his hand.
Jane now came up.
"Read it aloud," said their father, "for I
hardly know myself what it is about."
Gracechdrch Street, Monday, August 2.
My dear Brother, — At last I am able to send you
some tidings of my niece, and such as, upon the whole, I
hope will give you satisfaction. Soon after you left me
VOL. II. — 11
162 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
on Saturday, I was fortunate enough to find out in what
part of London they were. The particulars I reserve till
we meet. It is enough to know they are discovered:
I have seen them both —
"Then it is as I always hoped," cried Jane:
"they are married ! n
Elizabeth read on : —
I have seen them both. They are not married, nor
can I find there was any intention of being so ; but if
you are willing to perform the engagements which I have
ventured to make on your side, I hope it will not be long
before they are. All that is required of you is to assure
to your daughter, by settlement, her equal share of the five
thousand pounds secured among your children after the
decease of yourself and my sister ; and moreover to enter
into an engagement of allowing her, during your life,
one hundred pounds per annum. These are conditions
which, considering everything, I had no hesitation in
complying with, as far as I thought myself privileged, for
you. I shall send this by express, that no time may be
lost in bringing me your answer. You will easily com-
prehend, from these particulars, that Mr. Wickham's
circumstances are not so hopeless as they are generally
believed to be. The world has been deceived in that re-
spect ; and I am happy to say there will be some little
money, even when all his debts are discharged, to settle
on my niece, in addition to her own fortune. If, as I
conclude will be the case, you send me full powers to act
in your name throughout the whole of this business, I
will immediately give directions to Haggerston for pre*
paring a proper settlement. There will not be the small-
est occasion for your coming to town again ; therefore
stay quietly at Longbourn, and depend on my diligence
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 163
and care. Send back your answer as soon as you can,
and be careful to write explicitly. We have judged it
best that my niece should be married from this house,
of which I hope you will approve. She comes to us
to-day. I shall write again as soon as anything more is
determined on.
Yours, etc.
Edw. Gardiner.
"Is it possible?" cried Elizabeth, when she
had finished. "Can it be possible that he will
marry her?"
"Wickham is not so undeserving, then, as we
have thought him," said her sister. "My dear
father, I congratulate you."
"And have you answered the letter?" said
Elizabeth.
"No; but it must be done soon."
Most earnestly did she then entreat him to lose
no more time before he wrote.
"Oh, my dear father," she cried, "come back
and write immediately. Consider how important
every moment is in such a case."
"Let me write for you," said Jane, "if you
dislike the trouble yourself."
"I dislike it very much," he replied; "but it
must be done."
And so saying, he turned back with them, and
walked towards the house.
"And may I ask?" said Elizabeth; "but the
terms, I suppose, must be complied with."
164 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
" Complied with! I am only ashamed of his
asking so little."
"And they must marry! Yet he is such a
man."
"Yes, yes, they must marry. There is noth-
ing else to be done. But there are two things
that I want very much to know, — one is, how
much money your uncle has laid down to bring
it about} and the other, how I am ever to pay
him."
"Money! my uncle!" cried Jane; "what do
you mean, sir?"
"I mean that no man in his senses would marry
Lydia on so slight a temptation as one hundred a
year during my life, and fifty after I am gone."
"That is very true," said Elizabeth; "though
it had not occurred to me before. His debts to be
discharged, and something still to remain! Oh,
it must be my uncle's doings! Generous, good
man, I am afraid he has distressed himself. A
small sum could not do all this."
"No," said her father. " Wickham 's a fool if
he takes her with a farthing less than ten thou-
sand pounds : I should be sorry to think so ill of
him, in the very beginning of our relationship."
" Ten thousand pounds! Heaven forbid! How
is half such a sum to be repaid? "
Mr. Bennet made no answer; and each of them,
deep in thought, continued silent till they reached
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 165
the house. Their father then went to the library
to write, and the girls walked into the breakfast-
room.
"And they are really to be married I " cried
Elizabeth, as soon as they were by themselves.
"How strange this is! and for this we are to be
thankful. That they should marry, small as is
their chance of happiness, and wretched as is his
character, we are forced to rejoice! Oh, Lydia ! "
"I comfort myself with thinking/ ' replied
Jane, "that he certainly would not marry Lydia
if he had not a real regard for her. Though our
kind uncle has done something towards clearing
him, I cannot believe that ten thousand pounds,
or anything like it, has been advanced. He has
children of his own, and may have more. How
could he spare half ten thousand pounds?"
"If we are ever able to learn what Wickham's
debts have been," said Elizabeth, "and how much
is settled on his side on our sister, we shall ex-
actly know what Mr. Gardiner has done for them,
because Wickham has not sixpence of his own.
The kindness of my uncle and aunt can never be
requited. Their taking her home, and affording
her their personal protection and countenance, is
such a sacrifice to her advantage as years of grati-
tude cannot enough acknowledge. By this time
she is actually with them ! If such goodness does
not make her miserable now, she will never de«
<
I i
166 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
serve to be happy ! What a meeting for her, when
she first sees my aunt! "
"We must endeavor to forget all that has
passed on either side," said Jane. " I hope and
trust they will yet be happy. His consenting to
marry her is a proof, I will believe, that he is
come to a right way of thinking. Their mutual
affection will steady them; and I flatter myself
they will settle so quietly, and live in so rational
a manner, as may in time make their past impru-
dence forgotten."
" Their conduct has been such," replied Eliza-
beth, "as neither you nor I nor anybody can
ever forget. It is useless to talk of it."
It now occurred to the girls that their mother
was in all likelihood perfectly ignorant of what
had happened. They went to the library, there-
fore, and asked their father whether he would not
wish them to make it known to her. He was
writing, and without raising his head, coolly
replied, —
"Just as you please."
"May we take my uncle's letter to read to
her? "
"Take whatever you like, and get away."
Elizabeth took the letter from his writing-table,
and they went upstairs together. Mary and
Kitty were both with Mrs. Bennet: one com-
munication would therefore do for all. After
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 167
a slight preparation for good news, the letter was
read aloud. Mrs. Bennet could hardly contain
herself. As soon as Jane had read Mr. Gardiner's
hope of Lydia's being soon married, her joy burst
forth, and every following sentence added to its
exuberance. She was now in an irritation as
violent from delight as she had ever been fidgety
from alarm and vexation. To know that her
daughter would be married was enough. She
was disturbed by no fear for her felicity, nor
humbled by any remembrance of her misconduct.
"My dear, dear Lydia! " she cried; "this is
delightful indeed! She will be married! I shall
see her again! She will be married at sixteen!
My good, kind brother! I knew how it would
be, — I knew he would manage everything. How
I long to see her, and to see dear Wickham too !
But the clothes, the wedding-clothes! I will
write to my sister Gardiner about them directly.
Lizzy, my dear, run down to your father, and ask
him how much he will give her. Stay, stay, I
will go myself. Ring the bell, Kitty, for Hill.
I will put on my things in a moment. My dear,
dear Lydia! How merry we shall be together
when we meet ! }>
Her eldest daughter endeavored to give some
relief to the violence of these transports, by lead
ing her thoughts to the obligations which Mr.
Gardiner's behavior laid them all under.
168 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
"For we must attribute this happy conclusion,"
she added, "in a great measure to his kindness.
We are persuaded that he has pledged himself to
assist Mr. Wickham with money. "
"Well," cried her mother, "it is all very
right; who should do it but her own uncle? If
he had not had a family of his own, I and my
children must have had all his money, you know ;
and it is the first time we have ever had anything
from him except a few presents. Well! I am so
happy. In a short time I shall have a daughter
married. Mrs. Wickham! How well it sounds!
And she was only sixteen last June. My dear
Jane, I am in such a flutter that I am sure I
can't write; so I will dictate, and you write for
me. We will settle with your father about the
money afterwards; but the things should be
ordered immediately. "
She was then proceeding to all the particulars
of calico, muslin, and cambric, and would shortly
have dictated some very plentiful orders, had not
Jane, though with some difficulty, persuaded her
to wait till her father was at leisure to be con-
sulted. One day's delay, she observed, would be
of small importance; and her mother was too
happy to be quite so obstinate as usual. Other
schemes, too, came into her head.
"I will go to Meryton," said she, "as soon as
I am dressed, and tell the good, good news to my
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 169
sister Philips. And as I come back, I can call
on Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long. Kitty, run down
and order the carriage. An airing would do me
a great deal of good, I am sure. Girls, can I do
anything for you in Meryton? Oh! here comes
Hill. My dear Hill, have you heard the good
news? Miss Lydia is going to be married; and
you shall all have a bowl of punch to make merry
at her wedding."
Mrs. Hill began instantly to express her joy.
Elizabeth received her congratulations amongst
the rest, and then, sick of this folly, took refuge
in her own room, that she might think with free-
dom. Poor Lydia's situation must, at best, be
bad enough; but that it was no worse, she had
need to be thankful. She felt it so; and though,
in looking forward, neither rational happiness nor
worldly prosperity could be justly expected for
her sister, in looking back to what they had
feared only two hours ago, she felt all the ad-
vantages of what they had gained.
CHAPTER XVII.
Mr. Bennet had very often wished, before this
period of his life, that instead of spending his
whole income he had laid by an annual sum,
for the better provision of his children, and of
his wife, if she survived him. He now wished
it more than ever. Had he done his duty in
that respect, Lydia need not have been indebted
to her uncle for whatever of honor or credit could
now be purchased for her. The satisfaction of
prevailing on one of the most worthless young
men in Great Britain to be her husband might
then have rested in its proper place.
He was seriously concerned that a cause of so
little advantage to any one should be forwarded
at the sole expense of his brother-in-law; and
he was determined, if possible, to find out the
extent of his assistance, and to discharge the
obligation as soon as he could.
When first Mr. Bennet had married, economy
was held to be perfectly useless; for, of course,
they were to have a son. This son was to join
in cutting off the entail, as soon as he should
be of age; and the widow and younger children
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 171
would by that means be provided for. Five
daughters successively entered the world, but yet
the son was to come; and Mrs. Bennet, for many
years after Lydia's birth, had been certain that
he would. This event had at last been despaired
of; but it was then too late to be saving. Mrs.
Bennet had no turn for economy; and her hus-
band's love of independence had alone prevented
their exceeding their income.
Five thousand pounds was settled by marriage
articles on Mrs. Bennet and the children. But
in what proportions it should be divided amongst
the latter depended on the will of the parents.
This was one point, with regard to Lydia at
least, which was now to be settled; and Mr.
Bennet could have no hesitation in acceding to
the proposal before him. In terms of grateful
acknowledgment for the kindness of his brother,
though expressed most concisely, he then de-
livered on paper his perfect approbation of all
that was done, and his willingness to fulfil the
engagements that had been made for him. He
had never before supposed that, could Wickham
be prevailed on to marry his daughter, it would
be done with so little inconvenience to himself as
by the present arrangement. He would scarcely
be ten pounds a year the loser, by the hundred
that was to be paid them; for, what with her
board and pocket allowance, and the continual
172 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
presents in money which passed to her through
her mother's hands, Lydia's expenses had been
very little within that sum.
That it would be done with such trifling ex-
ertion on his side, too, was another very welcome
surprise; for his chief wish at present was to
have as little trouble in the business as possible.
When the first transports of rage which had pro-
duced his activity in seeking her were over, he
naturally returned to all his former indolence.
His letter was soon despatched; for though dila-
tory in undertaking business, he was quick in its
execution. He begged to know further particulars
of what he was indebted to his brother, but was too
angry with Lydia to send any message to her.
The good news quickly spread through the
house, and with proportionate speed through the
neighborhood. It was borne in the latter with
decent philosophy. To be sure, it would have
been more for the advantage of conversation, had
Miss Lydia Bennet come upon the town, or, as
the happiest alternative, been secluded from the
world, in some distant farm-house. But there
was much to be talked of, in marrying her; and
the good-natured wishes for her well-doing, which
had proceeded before from all the spiteful old
ladies in Meryton, lost but little of their spirit
in this change of circumstances, because with such
a husband her misery was considered certain.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 173
It was a fortnight since Mrs. Bennet had been
downstairs, but on this happy day she again took
her seat at the head of her table, and in spirits
oppressively high. No sentiment of shame gave a
damp to her triumph. The marriage of a daughter,
which had been the first object of her wishes since
Jane was sixteen, was now on the point of accom-
plishment; and her thoughts and her words ran
wholly on those attendants of elegant nuptials,
fine muslins, new carriages, and servants. She
was busily searching through the neighborhood for
a proper situation for her daughter; and without
knowing or considering what their income might be,
rejected many as deficient in size and importance.
"Have Park might do," said she, "if the
Gouldings would quit it, or the great house at
Stoke, if the drawing-room were larger; but Ash-
worth is too far off. I could not bear to have her
ten miles from me; and as for Purvis Lodge, the
attics are dreadful."
Her husband allowed her to talk on without in-
terruption while the servants remained. But when
they had withdrawn, he said to her: "Mrs. Ben-
net, before you take any or all of these houses for
your son and daughter, let us come to a right un-
derstanding. Into one house in this neighborhood
they shall never have admittance. I will not en-
courage the imprudence of either, by receiving them
at Longbourn."
174 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
A long dispute followed this declaration; but
Mr. Bennet was firm. It soon led to another; and
Mrs. Bennet found, with amazement and horror,
that her husband would not advance a guinea to
buy clothes for his daughter. He protested that
she should receive from him no mark of affection
whatever on the occasion. Mrs. Bennet could
hardly comprehend it. That his anger could be
carried to such a point of inconceivable resentment
as to refuse his daughter a privilege without
which her marriage would scarcely seem valid, ex-
ceeded all that she could believe possible. She was
more alive to the disgrace which her want of new
clothes must reflect on her daughter's nuptials,
than to any sense of shame at her eloping and liv-
ing with Wickham a fortnight before they took
place.
Elizabeth was now most heartily sorry that she
had, from the distress of the moment, been led to
make Mr. Darcy acquainted with their fears for
her sister; for since her marriage would so shortly
give the proper termination to the elopement, they
might hope to conceal its unfavorable beginning
from all those who were, not immediately on the
spot.
She had no fear of its spreading farther through
his means. There were few people on whose se-
crecy she would have more confidently depended;
but at the same time there was no one whose
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 175
knowledge of a sister's frailty would have mortified
her so much. Not, however, from any fear of dis-
advantage from it individually to herself; for at
any rate there seemed a gulf impassable between
them. Had Lydia's marriage been concluded on
the most honorable terms, it was not to be sup-
posed that Mr. Darcy would connect himself with
a family where to every other objection would
now be added an alliance and relationship of the
nearest kind with the man whom he so justly
scorned.
From such a connection she could not wonder
that he should shrink. The wish of procuring her
regard, which she had assured herself of his feel-
ing in Derbyshire, could not in rational expec-
tation survive such a blow as this. She was
humbled, she was grieved; she repented, though
she hardly knew of what. She became jealous of
his esteem, when she could no longer hope to be
"benefited by it. She wanted to hear of him, when
there seemed the least chance of gaining intelli-
gence. She was convinced that she could have
been happy with him, when it was no longer
likely they should meet.
What a triumph for him, as she often thought,
could he know that the proposals which she had
proudly spurned only four months ago would now
have been gladly and gratefully received! He was
as generous, she doubted not, as the most generous
J
176 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
of his sex. But while he was mortal, there must
be a triumph.
She began now to comprehend that he was
exactly the man who in disposition and talents
would most suit her. His understanding and tem-
per, though unlike her own, would have answered
all her wishes. It was an union that must have
been to the advantage of both: by her ease and
liveliness his mind might have been softened, his
manners improved j and from his judgment, infor-
mation, and knowledge of the world she must
have received benefit of greater importance.
But no such happy marriage could now teach the
admiring multitude what connubial felicity really
was. An union of a different tendency, and pre-
cluding the possibility of the other, was soon to be
formed in their family.
How Wickham and Lydia were to be supported
in tolerable independence she could not imagine.
But how little of permanent happiness could be-
long to a couple who were only brought together
because their passions were stronger than their
virtue, she could easily conjecture.
Mr. Gardiner soon wrote again to his brother.
To Mr. Bennet's acknowledgments he briefly re-
plied, with assurances of his eagerness to promote
the welfare of any of his family; and concluded
with entreaties that the subject might never be
mentioned to him again. The principal purport
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 177
of his letter was to inform them that Mr.
Wickham had resolved on quitting the militia.
w It was greatly my wish that he should do so," he
added, "as soon as his marriage was fixed on. And I
think you will agree with me, in considering a removal
from that corps as highly advisable, both on his account
and my niece's. It is Mr. Wickham's intention to go into
the Regulars ; and among his former friends there are
still some who are able and willing to assist him in the
army. He has the promise of an ensigncy in General
's regiment, now quartered in the north. It is an
advantage to have it so far from this part of the kingdom.
He promises fairly ; and I hope among different people,
where they may each have a character to preserve, they
will both be more prudent. I have written to Colonel
Forster to inform him of our present arrangements, and
to request that he will satisfy the various creditors of Mr.
Wickham in and near Brighton with assurances of speedy
payment, for which I have pledged myself. And will you
give yourself the trouble of carrying similar assurances to
his creditors in Meryton, of whom I shall subjoin a list,
according to his information. He has given in all his
debts ; I hope at least he has not deceived us. Hagger-
ston has our directions, and all will be completed in a
week. They will then join his regiment, unless they are
first invited to Longbourn ; and I understand from Mrs.
Gardiner that my niece is very desirous of seeing you all
before she leaves the south. She is well, and begs to be
dutifully remembered to you and her mother.
" Yours, etc.,
" E. Gardiner."
Mr. Bennet and his daughters saw all the advan-
tages of Wickham's removal from the — — shire,
VOL. II. — 12
178 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
as clearly as Mr. Gardiner could do. But Mrs.
Bennet was not so well pleased with it. Lydia's
being settled in the north, just when she had
expected most pleasure and pride in her com-
pany, for she had by no means given up her plan
of their residing in Hertfordshire, was a severe
disappointment; and, besides, it was such a pity
that Lydia should be taken from a regiment where
she was acquainted with everybody, and had so
many favorites.
" She is so fond of Mrs. Forster," said she, " it
will be quite shocking to send her away! And
there are several of the young men, too, that she
likes very much. The officers may not be so
pleasant in General 's regiment."
His daughter's request, for such it might be
considered, of being admitted into her family
again, before she set off for the north, received at
first an absolute negative. But Jane and Eliza-
beth, who agreed in wishing, for the sake of their
sister's feelings and consequence, that she should
be noticed on her marriage by her parents, urged
him so earnestly, yet so rationally and so mildly,
to receive her and her husband at Longbourn as
soon as they were married, that he was prevailed
on to think as they thought, and act as they
wished. And their mother had the satisfaction o*
knowing that she should be able to show her
married daughter in the neighborhood, before she
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
179
was banished to the north. When Mr. Bennet
wrote again to his brother, therefore, he sent his
permission for them to come; and it was settled
that as soon as the ceremony was over, they
should proceed to Longbourn. Elizabeth was sur-
prised, however, that Wickham should consent to
such a scheme; and had she consulted only her
own inclination, any meeting with him would
have been the last object of her wishes.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Their sister's wedding-day arrived; and Jane and
Elizabeth felt for her probably more than she felt
for herself. The carriage was sent to meet them
at , and they were to return in it b}' dinner-
time. Their arrival was dreaded by the elder Miss
Bennets; and Jane more especially, who gave
Lydia the feelings which would have attended her-
self, had she been the culprit, and was wretched
in the thought of what her sister must endure.
They came. The family were assembled in the
breakfast-room to receive them. Smiles decked
the face of Mrs. Bennet, as the carriage drove up
to the door; her husband looked impenetrably
grave; her daughters, alarmed, anxious, uneasy.
Lydia's voice was heard in the vestibule; the
door was thrown open, and she ran into the room.
Her mother stepped forwards, embraced her, and
welcomed her with rapture; gave her hand with
an affectionate smile to Wickham, who followed
his lady, and wished them both joy, with an alac-
rity which showed no doubt of their happiness.
Their reception from Mr. Bennet, to whom
they then turned, was not quite so cordial. His
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 181
countenance rather gained in austerity, and he
scarcely opened his lips. The easy assurance of
the young couple, indeed, was enough to provoke
him. Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Miss
Bennet was shocked. Lydia was Lydia still ; un-
tamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, and fearless. She
turned from sister to sister, demanding their con-
gratulations; and when at length they all sat
down, looked eagerly round the room, took notice
of some little alteration in it, and observed, with
a laugh, that it was a great while since she had
been there.
Wickham was not at all more distressed than
herself; but his manners were always so pleasing
that had his character and his marriage been ex-
actly what they ought, his smiles and his easy
address, while he claimed their relationship, would
have delighted them all. Elizabeth had not before
believed him quite equal to such assurance; but
she sat down, resolving within herself to draw no
limits in future to the impudence of an impudent
man. She blushed, and Jane blushed; but the
cheeks of the two who caused their confusion suf-
fered no variation of color.
There was no want of discourse. The bride and
her mother could neither of them talk fast enough;
and Wickham, who happened to sit near Elizabeth,
began inquiring after his acquaintance in that
neighborhood with a good-humored ease which
182 PRIDE AHD PREJUDICE.
she felt very unable to equal in her replies. They
seemed each of them to have the happiest memories
in the world. Nothing of the past was recollected
with pain j and Lydia led voluntarily to subjects
which her sisters would not have alluded to for
the world.
"Only think of its being three months," she
cried, "since I went away: it seems but a fort-
night, I declare ; and yet there have been things
enough happened in the time. Good gracious!
when I went away, I am sure I had no more
idea of being married till I came back again!
though I thought it would be very good fun if I
was."
Her father lifted up his eyes, Jane was dis-
tressed, Elizabeth looked expressively at Lydia;
but she, who never heard nor saw anything of
which she chose to be insensible, gayly continued :
" Oh, mamma, do the people hereabouts know I
am married to-day? I was afraid they might not;
and we overtook William Goulding in his curricle,
so I was determined he should know it, and so I
let down the side glass next to him, and took off
my glove, and let my hand just rest upon the win-
dow-frame, so that he might see the ring, and then
I bowed and smiled like anything."
Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She got up
and ran out of the room; and returned no more
till she heard them passing through the hall to the
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 183
dining-parlor. She then joined them soon enough
to see Lydia, with anxious parade, walk up to her
mother's right hand, and hear her say to her
eldest sister, "Ah, Jane, I take your place now,
and you must go lower, hecause I am a married
woman."
It was not to he supposed that time would give
Lydia that emharrassment from which she had
been so wholly free at first. Her ease and good
spirits increased. She longed to see Mrs. Philips,
the Lucases, and all their other neighbors, and to
hear herself called "Mrs. Wickham " by each of
them j and in the mean time she went after dinner
to show her ring and boast of being married to
Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids.
"Well, mamma," said she, when they were all
returned to the breakfast-room, "and what do you
think of my husband? Is not he a charming man?
I am sure my sisters must all envy me. I only
hope they may have half my good luck. They
must all go to Brighton. That is the place to get
husbands. What a pity it is, mamma, we did not
all go!"
"Very true; and if I had my will, we should.
But, my dear Lydia, I don't at all like your going
such a way off. Must it be so?''
"Oh, Lord! yes; there is nothing in that. I
shall like it of all things. You and papa and my
sisters must come down and see us. We shall bo
184 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
at Newcastle all the winter, and I dare say there
will be some balls, and I will take care to get good
partners for them all."
"I should like it beyond anything! " said her
mother.
"And then when you go away, you may leave
one or two of my sisters behind you; and I dare
say I shall get husbands for them before the winter
is over."
"I thank you for my share of the favor," said
Elizabeth; "but I do not particularly like your
way of getting husbands."
Their visitors were not to remain above ten days
with them. Mr. Wickham had received his com-
mission before he left London, and he was to join
his regiment at the end of a fortnight.
No one but Mrs. Bennet regretted that their
stay would be so short; and she made the most of
the time by visiting about with her daughter, and
having very frequent parties at home. These
parties were acceptable to all; to avoid a family
circle was even more desirable to such as did think
than such as did not.
Wickham's affection for Lydia was just what
Elizabeth had expected to find it, — not equal to
Lydia's for him. She had scarcely needed her
present observation to be satisfied, from the reason
of things, that their elopement had been brought
on by the strength of her love rather than by his;
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 185
and she would have wondered why, without vio-
lently caring for her, he chose to elope with her
at all, had she not felt certain that his flight was
rendered necessary by distress of circumstances;
and if that were the case, he was not the
young man to resist an opportunity of having a
companion.
Lydia was exceedingly fond of him. He was
her dear Wickham on every occasion; no one was
to he put in competition with him. He did every-
thing best in the world; and she was sure he
would kill more birds on the first of September
than anybody else in the country.
One morning, soon after their arrival, as she
was sitting with her two elder sisters, she said to
Elizabeth, —
" Lizzy, I never gave you an account of my
wedding, I believe. You were not by, when I
told mamma and the others all about it. Are
not you curious to hear how it was managed? "
"JSTo, really," replied Elizabeth; "I think
there cannot be too little said on the subject."
"La! You are so strange! But I must tell you
how it went off. We were married, you know, at
St. Clement's, because Wickham's lodgings were
in that parish. And it was settled that we should
all be there by eleven o'clock. My uncle and
aunt and I were to go together; and the others
were to meet us at the church. Well, Monday
186 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
morning came, and I was in such a fuss! I was
so afraid, you know, that something would happen
to put it off, and then I should have gone quite
distracted. And there was my aunt, all the time
I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as
if she was reading a sermon. However, I did not
hear ahove one word in ten, for I was thinking,
you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. I longed
to know whether he would be married in his blue
coat.
"Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual:
I thought it would never be over; for by the by
you are to understand that my uncle and aunt
were horrid unpleasant all the time I was with
them. If you '11 believe me, I did not once put
my foot out of doors, though I was there a fort-
night. Not one party or scheme, or anything.
To be sure, London was rather thin; but, however,
the Little Theatre was open. Well, and so just
as the carriage came to the door, my uncle was
called away upon business to that horrid man Mr.
Stone. And then, you know, when once they get
together, there is no end of it. Well, I was so
frightened I did riot know what to do, for my
uncle was to give me away; and if we were beyond
the hour we could not be married all day. But,
luckily, he came back again in ten minutes' time,
and then we all set out. However, I recollected
afterwards, that if he had been prevented going,
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 187
the wedding need not be put off, for Mr. Darcy
might have done as well."
"Mr. Darcy!" repeated Elizabeth, in utter
amazement.
"Oh, yes! he was to come there with Wickham,
you know. But, gracious me ! I quite forgot ! I
ought not to have said a word about it. I prom-
ised them so faithfully! What will Wickham
say? It was to be such a secret! "
"If it was to be a secret," said Jane, " say not
another word on the subject. You may depend
upon my seeking no further."
"Oh, certainly," said Elizabeth, though burning
with curiosity; "we will ask you no questions."
"Thank you," said Lydia; "for if you did, I
should certainly tell you all, and then Wickham
would be so angry."
On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was
forced to put it out of her power, by running
away.
But to live in ignorance on such a point was im-
possible; or at least it was impossible not to try
for information. Mr. Darcy had been at her sis-
ter's wedding. It was exactly a scene, and ex-
actly among people, where he had apparently least
to do, and least temptation to go. Conjectures as
to the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried into
her brain, but she was satisfied with none. Those
that best pleased her, as placing his conduct in
188 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
the noblest light, seemed most improbable. She
could not bear such suspense; and hastily seizing
a sheet of paper, wrote a short letter to her aunt,
to request an explanation of what Lydia had
dropped, if it were compatible with the secrecy
which had been intended.
" You may readily comprehend," she added, " what
my curiosity must be to know how a person unconnected
with any of us, and, comparatively speaking, a stranger
to our family, should have been amongst you at such a
time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it, —
unless it is, for very cogent reasons, to remain in the
secrecy which Lydia seems to think necessary ; and then
I must endeavor to be satisfied with ignorance."
"Not that I shall, though/' she added to her-
self, as she finished the letter; "and, my dear
aunt, if you do not tell me in an honorable man-
ner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and
stratagems to find it out."
Jane's delicate sense of honor would not allow
her to speak to Elizabeth privately of what Lydia
had let fall. Elizabeth was glad of it; till
it appeared whether her inquiries would receive
any satisfaction, she had rather be without a
confidante.
CHAPTER XIX.
Elizabeth had the satisfaction of receiving an
answer to her letter as soon as she possibly could.
She was no sooner in possession of it, than hurry-
ing into the little copse, where she was least likely
to be interrupted, she sat down on one of the
benches, and prepared to be happy ; for the length
of the letter convinced her that it did not contain
a denial.
Gracechurch Street, Sept. 6.
My dear Niece, — I have just received your let-
ter, and shall devote this whole morning to answering it,
as I foresee that a little writing will not comprise what I
have to tell you. I must confess myself surprised by
your application ; I did not expect it from you. Don't
think me angry, however, for I only mean to let you
know that I had not imagined such inquiries to be neces-
sary on your side. If you do not choose to understand
me, forgive my impertinence. Your uncle is as much
surprised as I am; and nothing but the belief of your
being a party concerned would have allowed him to act
as he has done. But if you are really innocent and igno-
rant, I must be more explicit. On the very day of my
coming home from Longbourn, your uncle had a most un-
expected visitor. Mr. Darcy called, and was shut up
with him several hours. It was all over before I ar-
rived ; so my curiosity was not so dreadfully racked as
190 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
yours seems to have been. He came to tell Mr. Gar-
diner that he had found out where your sister and Mr.
Wickham were, and that he had seen and talked with
them both, — Wickham repeatedly, Lydia once. From
what I can collect, he left Derbyshire only one day after
ourselves, and came to town with the resolution of hunt-
ing for them. The motive professed was his conviction
of its being owing to himself that Wickham's worthless-
ness had not been so well known as to make it impossible
for any young woman of character to love or confide in
him. He generously imputed the whole to his mistaken
pride, and confessed that he had before thought it be-
neath him to lay his private actions open to the world.
His character was to speak for itself. He called it,
therefore, his duty to step forward, and endeavor to rem-
edy an evil which had been brought on by himself. If he
had another motive, I am sure it would never disgrace
him. He had been some days in town before he was
able to discover them; but he had something to direct
his search, which was more than we had ; and the con-
sciousness of this was another reason for his resolving to
follow us. There is a lady, it seems, a Mrs. Younge, who
was some time ago governess to Miss Darcy, and was
dismissed from her charge on some cause of disapproba-
tion, though he did not say what. She then took a large
house in Edward Street, and has since maintained herself
by letting lodgings. This Mrs. Younge was, he knew,
intimately acquainted with Wickham ; and he went to
her for intelligence of him, as soon as he got to town.
But it was two or three days before he could get from
her what he wanted. She would not betray her trust, I
suppose, without bribery and corruption, for she really
did know where her friend was to be found. Wickham,
indeed, had gone to her on their first arrival in London,
and had she been able to receive them into her house,
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 191
they would have taken up their abode with her. At
length, however, our kind friend procured the wished-for
direction. They were in Street. He saw Wick-
ham, and afterwards insisted on seeing Lydia. His first
object with her, he acknowledged, had been to persuade
her to quit her present disgraceful situation, and return
to her friends as soon as they could be prevailed on to
receive her, offering his assistance as far as it would go.
But he found Lydia absolutely resolved on remaining
where she was. She cared for none of her friends ; she
wanted no help of his ; she would not hear of leaving
Wickham. She was sure they should be married some
time or other, and it did not much signify when. Since
such were her feelings, it only remained, he thought, to
secure and expedite a marriage, which, in his very first
conversation with Wickham, he easily learned had never
been his design. He confessed himself obliged to leave
the regiment on account of some debts of honor which
were very pressing ; and scrupled not to lay all the ill
consequences of Lydia's flight on her own folly alone.
He meant to resign his commission immediately ; and as
to his future situation, he could conjecture very little
about it. He must go somewhere, but he did not know
where, and he knew he should have nothing to live on.
Mr. Darcy asked why he did not marry your sister at
once. Though Mr. Bennet was not imagined to be very
rich, he would have been able to do something for him,
and his situation must have been benefited by marriage.
But he found, in reply to this question, that Wickham
still cherished the hope of more effectually making his
fortune by marriage in some other country. Under such
circumstances, however, he was not likely to be proof
against the temptation of immediate relief. They met
several times, for there was much to be discussed. Wick-
ham, of course, wanted more than he could get, but at
192 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
length was reduced to be reasonable. Everything being
settled between them, Mr. Darcy's next step was to
make your uncle acquainted with it, and he first called
in Gracechurch Street the evening before I came home.
But Mr. Gardiner could not be seen; and Mr, Darcy
found, on further inquiry, that your father was still with
him, but would quit town the next morning. He did not
judge your father to be a person whom he could so prop-
erly consult as your uncle, and therefore readily post-
poned seeing him till after the departure of the former.
He did not leave his name, and till the next day it was
only known that a gentleman had called on business.
On Saturday he came again. Your father was gone,
your uncle at home, and, as I said before, they had a
great deal of talk together. They met again on Sunday,
and then I saw him too. It was not all settled before
Monday ; as soon as it was, the express was sent off to
Longbourn. But our visitor was very obstinate. I
fancy, Lizzy, that obstinacy is the real defect of his char-
acter, after all. He has been accused of many faults at
different times ; but this is the true one. Nothing was
to be done that he did not do himself ; though I am sure
(and I do not speak it to be thanked, therefore say noth-
ing about it) your uncle would most readily have settled
the whole. They battled it together for a long time,
which was more than either the gentleman or lady con-
cerned in it deserved. But at last your uncle was forced
to yield, and instead of being allowed to be of use to his
niece, was forced to put up with only having the probable
credit of it, which went sorely against the grain ; and I
really believe your letter this morning gave him great
pleasure, because it required an explanation that would
rob him of his borrowed feathers, and give the praise
where it was due. But, Lizzy, this must go no further
than yourself, or Jane at most. You know pretty well, I
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 193
suppose, what has been done for the young people. His
debts are to be paid, amounting, I believe, to considerably
more than a thousand pounds, another thousand in addi-
tion to her own settled upon her, and his commission
purchased. The reason why all this was to be done by
him alone was such as I have given above. It was
owing to him, to his reserve and want of proper consid-
eration, that Wickham's character had been so misunder-
stood, and consequently that he had been received and
noticed as he was. Perhaps there was some truth in
this ; though I doubt whether his reserve or anybody's
reserve can be answerable for the event. But in spite of
all this fine talking, my dear Lizzy, you may rest per-
fectly assured that your uncle would never have yielded,
if we had not given him credit for another interest in the
affair. When all this was resolved on, he returned again
to his friends, who were still staying at Pemberley ; but
it was agreed that he should be in London once more
when the wedding took place, and all money matters were
then to receive the last finish. I believe I have now told
you everything. It is a relation which you tell me is to
give you great surprise ; I hope at least it will not afford
you any displeasure. Lydia came to us, and Wickham
had constant admission to the house. He was exactly
what he had been when I knew him in Hertfordshire ;
but I would not tell you how little I was satisfied with
her behavior while she stayed with us, if I had not per-
ceived, by Jane's letter last Wednesday, that her conduct
on coming home was exactly of a piece with it, and there-
fore what I now tell you can give you no fresh pain. I
talked to her repeatedly in the most serious manner, rep-
resenting to her the wickedness of what she had done,
and all the unhappiness she had brought on her family.
If she heard me, it was by good luck, for I am sure she
did not listen. I was sometimes quite provoked; but
VOL. II. — 13
194 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
then I recollected my dear Elizabeth and Jane, and for
their sakes had patience with her. Mr. Darcy was
punctual in his return, and, as Lydia informed you, at-
tended the wedding. He dined with us the next day,
and was to leave town again on Wednesday or Thursday.
. Will you be very angry with me, my dear Lizzy, if I take
1 this opportunity of saying (what I was never bold enough
to say before) how much I like him ? His behavior to us
has in every respect been as pleasing as when we were
in Derbyshire. His understanding and opinions all
please me : he wants nothing but a little more liveliness ;
and that, if he marry prudently, his wife may teach him.
I thought him very sly ; he hardly ever mentioned your
name. But slyness seems the fashion. Pray forgive me,
if I have been very presuming, or at least do not punish
me so far as to exclude me from P. I shall never be
quite happy till I have been all round the park. A low
phaeton with a nice little pair of ponies would be the
very thing. But I must write no more. The children
have been wanting me this half hour.
Yours, very sincerely,
M. Gardiner.
The contents of this letter threw Elizabeth into
a flutter of spirits, in which it was difficult to
determine whether pleasure or pain bore the great-
est share. The vague and unsettled suspicions
which uncertainty had produced of what Mr.
Darcy might have been doing to forward her
sister's match which she had feared to encourage,
as an exertion of goodness too great to be prob-
able, and at the same time dreaded to be just,
from the pain of obligation, were proved beyond
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 195
their greatest extent to be true ! He had followed
them purposely to town, he had taken on himself
all the trouble and mortification attendant on
such a research; in which supplication had been
necessary to a woman whom he must abominate
and despise, and where he was reduced to meet,
frequently meet, reason with, persuade, and fi-
nally bribe the man whom he always most wished
to avoid, and whose very name it was punishment
to him to pronounce. He had done all this for
a girl whom he could neither regard nor esteem.
Her heart did whisper that he had done it for
her. But it was a hope shortly checked by other
considerations; and she soon felt that even her
vanity was insufficient, when required to depend
on his affection for her, for a woman who had
already refused him, as able to overcome a senti-
ment so natural as abhorrence against relation-
ship with Wickham. Brother-in-law of Wickham !
Every kind of pride must revolt from the connec-
tion. He had, to be sure, done much, — she was
ashamed to think how much; but he had given
a reason for his interference, which asked no ex-
traordinary stretch of belief. It was reasonable
that he should feel he had been wrong; he had
liberality, and he had the means of exercising
it; and though she would not place herself as his
principal inducement, she could perhaps believe
that remaining partiality for her might assist his
196 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
endeavors in a cause where her peace of mind
must be materially concerned. It was painful,
exceedingly painful, to know that they were under
obligations to a person who could never receive
a return. They owed the restoration of Lydia,
her character, everything to him.' Oh, how heart-
ily did she grieve over every ungracious sensation
she had ever encouraged, every saucy speech she
had ever directed towards him! For herself she
was humbled ; but she was proud of him, — proud
that in a cause of compassion and honor he had
been able to get the better of himself. She read
over her aunt's commendation of him again and
again. It was hardly enough; but it pleased her.
She was even sensible of some pleasure, though
mixed with regret, on finding how steadfastly
both she and her uncle had been persuaded that
affection and confidence subsisted between Mr.
Darcy and herself.
She was roused from her seat and her reflec-
tions by some one's approach; and before she
could strike into another path, she was overtaken
by Wickham.
"I am afraid I interrupt your solitary ramble,
my dear sister?" said he, as he joined her.
"You certainly do," she replied with a smile;
"but it does not follow that the interruption
must be unwelcome."
"I should be sorry, indeed, if it were. We
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 197
were always good friends, and now we are
better."
"True. Are the others coming out?"
"I do not know. Mrs. Bennet and Lydia are
going in the carriage to Meryton. And so, my
dear sister, I find, from our uncle and aunt, that
you have actually seen Pemberley."
She replied in the affirmative.
"I almost envy you the pleasure, and yet I
believe it would be too much for me, or else I
could take it in my way to Newcastle. And you
saw the old housekeeper, I suppose? Poor Rey-
nolds, she was always very fond of me. But of
course she did not mention my name to you."
"Yes, she did."
"And what did she say?"
"That you were gone into the army, and she
was afraid had — not turned out well. At such
a distance as that, you know, things are strangely
misrepresented. "
" Certainly," he replied, biting his lips. Eliza-
beth hoped she had silenced himj but he soon
afterwards said, —
"I was surprised to see Darcy in town last
month. We passed each other several times. I
wonder what he can be doing there."
"Perhaps preparing for his marriage with Miss
de Bourgh," said Elizabeth. "It must be some-
thing particular to take him there at this time
of year."
mmmmmmm
198 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE
"Undoubtedly. Did you see him while you
were at Lambton? I thought I understood from
the Gardiners that you had."
"Yes; he introduced us to his sister."
M And do you like her? "
"Very much."
" I have heard, indeed, that she is uncommonly
improved within this year or two. When I last
saw her, she was not very promising. I am very
glad you liked her. I hope she will turn out
well."
"I dare say she will; she has got over the most
trying age."
" Did you go by the village of Kympton? "
"I do not recollect that we did."
" I mention it because it is the living which 1
ought to have had. A most delightful place!
Excellent parsonage house I It would have suited
me in every respect."
" How should you have liked making sermons? "
"Exceedingly well. I should have considered
it as part of my duty, and the exertion would soon
have been nothing. One ought not to repine ; but,
to be sure, it would have been such a thing for
me ! The quiet, the retirement of such a life would
have answered all my ideas of happiness! But it
was not to be. Did you ever hear Darcy mention
the circumstance when you were in Kent? "
" I have heard from authority, which I thought
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 199
as good, that it was left you conditionally only,
and at the will of the present patron."
" You have! Yes, there was something in that;
I told you so from the first, you may remember."
(i I did hear, too, that there was a time when
sermon-making was not so palatable to you as it
seems to be at present; that you actually declared
your resolution of never taking orders, and that
the business had been compromised accordingly."
" You did! and it was not wholly without foun-
dation. You may remember what I told you on
that point, when first we talked of it. "
They were now almost at the door of the house,
for she had walked fast to get rid of him ; and un,
willing, for her sister's sake, to provoke him, she
only said in reply, with a good-humored smile, —
"Come, Mr. Wickham, we are brother and sis-
ter, you know. Do not let us quarrel about the
past. In future, I hope, we shall be always of one
mind."
She held out her hand : he kissed it with affec-
tionate gallantry, though he hardly knew how to
look; and they entered the house.
CHAPTEK XX.
Mr. Wickham was so perfectly satisfied with this
conversation that he never again distressed him-
self, or provoked his dear sister Elizabeth, by in-
troducing the subject of it; and she was pleased
to find that she had said enough to keep him
quiet.
The day of his and Lydia's departure soon came,
and Mrs. Bennet was forced to submit to a separa-
tion, which, as her husband by no means entered
into her scheme of their all going to Newcastle,
was likely to continue at least a twelvemonth.
"Oh, my dear Lydia," she cried, "when shall
we meet again? "
"Oh, Lord! I don't know. Not these two or
three years, perhaps."
"Write to me very often, my dear."
"As often as I can. But you know married
women have never much time for writing. My
sisters may write to me. They will have nothing
else to do."
Mr. Wickham's adieus were much more affec-
tionate than his wife's. He smiled, looked hand-
some, and said many pretty things.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 201
"He is as fine a fellow,' ' said Mr. Bennet, as |
soon as they were out of the house, " as ever I saw.
He simpers, and smirks, and makes love to us all.
I am prodigiously proud of him. I defy even Sir
William Lucas himself to produce a more valuable
son-in-law."
The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very
dull for several days.
"I often think, " said she, "that there is noth-
ing so had as parting with one's friends. One
seems so forlorn without them."
"This is the consequence you see, madam, of
marrying a daughter," said Elizabeth. "It must
make you better satisfied that your other four are
single."
" It is no such thing. Lydia does not leave me
because she is married, but only because her hus-
band's regiment happens to be so far off. If that
had been nearer, she would not have gone so soon. "
But the spiritless condition which this event
threw her into was shortly relieved, and her mind
opened again to the agitation of hope, by an article
of news which then began to be in circulation.
The housekeeper at Netherfield had received, orders
to prepare for the arrival of her master, who was
coming down in a day or two, to shoot there for
several weeks. Mrs. Bennet was quite in the
fidgets. She looked at Jane, and smiled, and
shook her head, by turns.
202 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
" Well, well, and so Mr. Bingley is coming
down, sister/' for Mrs. Philips first brought her
the news. "Well, so much the better. Not that
I care about it, though. He is nothing to us, you
know, and I am sure I never want to see him again.
But, however, he is very welcome to come to
Netherfield, if he likes it. And who knows what
may happen? But that is nothing to us. You
know, sister, we agreed long ago never to mention
a word about it. And so it is quite certain he is
coming? "
"You may depend on it," replied the other,
"for Mrs. Nichols was in Meryton last night: I
saw her passing by, and went out myself on pur-
pose to know the truth of it; and she told me that
it was certainly true. He comes down on Thurs-
day, at the latest ; very likely on Wednesday. She
was going to the butcher's, she told me, on pur-
pose to order in some meat on Wednesday, and
she has got three couple of ducks just fit to be
killed."
Miss Bennet had not been able to hear of his
coming without changing color. It was many
months since she had mentioned his name to Eliza-
beth ; but now, as soon as they were alone together,
she said, —
"I saw you look at me to-day, Lizzy, when my
aunt told us of the present report, and I know I
appeared distressed; but don't imagine it was from
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 203
any silly cause. I was only confused for the mo-
ment, because I felt that I should be looked at. I
do assure you that the news does not affect me
either with pleasure or pain. I am glad of one
thing, that he comes alone; because we shall see
the less of him. Not that I am afraid of myself,
but I dread other people's remarks. "
Elizabeth did not know what to make of it. Had
she not seen him in Derbyshire, she might have
supposed him capable of coming there with no
other view than what was acknowledged; but she
still thought him partial to Jane, and she wavered
as to the greater probability of his coming there
with his friend's permission, or being bold enough
to come without it.
" Yet it is hard," she sometimes thought, " that
this poor man cannot come to a house which he
has legally hired, without raising all this specula-
tion! I will leave him to himself."
In spite of what her sister declared and really
believed to be her feelings in the expectation of
his arrival, Elizabeth could easily perceive that
her spirits were affected by it. They were more
disturbed, more unequal, than she had often seen
them.
The subject which had been so warmly canvassed
between their parents about a twelvemonth ago
was now brought forward again.
"As soon as ever Mr. Bingley comes, my
204 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
dear," said Mrs. Bennet, "you will wait on him
of course/ '
" No, no. You forced me into visiting him last
year, and promised, if I went to see him, he should
marry one of my daughters; hut it ended in
nothing, and I will not he sent on a fool's errand
again."
His wife represented to him how ahsolutely
necessary such an attention would he from all
the neighboring gentlemen, on his returning to
Netherfield.
"'Tis an etiquette I despise," said he. "If
he wants our society, let him seek it. He knows
where we live. I will not spend my hours in run-
ning after my neighbors every time they go away
and come back again."
"Well, all I know is that it will be abominably
rude if you do not wait on him. But, however,
that sha'n't prevent my asking him to dine here, I
am determined. We must have Mrs. Long and
the Gouldings soon. That will make thirteen
with ourselves; so there will be just room at table
for him."
Consoled by this resolution, she was the better
able to bear her husband's incivility ; though it was
ver}T mortifying to know that her neighbors might
all see Mr. Bingley in consequence of it before they
did. As the day of his arrival drew near, —
"I begin to be sorry that he comes at all," said
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 205
Jane to her sister. "It would be nothing; I
could see him with perfect indifference, but I can
hardly bear to hear it thus perpetually talked of.
My mother means well; but she does not know,
no one can know, how much I suffer from what
she says. Happy shall I be when his stay at
Netherfield is over!"
"I wish I could say anything to comfort you,"
replied Elizabeth; "but it is wholly out of my
power. You must feel it ; and the usual satisfac-
tion of preaching patience to a sufferer is denied
me, because you have always so much."
Mr. Bingley arrived. Mrs. Bennet, through
the assistance of servants, contrived to have the
earliest tidings of it, that the period of anxiety
and fretfulness on her side might be as long as it
could. She counted the days that must intervene
before their invitation could be sent; hopeless of
seeing him before. But on the third morning
after his arrival in Hertfordshire she saw him
from her dressing-room window enter the paddock,
and ride towards the house.
Her daughters were eagerly called to partake of
her joy. Jane resolutely kept her place at the
table; but Elizabeth, to satisfy her mother, went
to the window, — she looked, — she saw Mr. Darcy
with him, and sat down again by her sister.
"There is a gentleman with him, mamma,"
said Kitty; "who can it be?"
I
206 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
"Some acquaintance or other, my dear, I sup-
pose; I am sure I do not know."
"La!" replied Kitty, "it looks just like that
man that used to be with him before. Mr. what 's
his name, — that tall, proud man."
"Good gracious! Mr. Darcy! — and so it does,
I vow. Well, any friend of Mr. Bingley's will
always be welcome here, to be sure; but else I
must say that I hate the very sight of him."
Jane looked at Elizabeth with surprise and con-
cern. She knew but little of their meeting in
Derbyshire, and therefore felt for the awkwardness
which must attend her sister in seeing him al-
most for the first time after receiving his ex-
planatory letter. Both sisters were uncomfortable
enough. Each felt for the other, and of course
for themselves ; and their mother talked on of her
dislike of Mr. Darcy, and her resolution to be
civil to him only as Mr. Bingley's friend, without
being heard by either of them. But Elizabeth
had sources of uneasiness which could not be sus-
pected by Jane, to whom, she had never yet had
courage to show Mrs. Gardiner's letter, or to re-
late her own change of sentiment towards him.
To Jane he could be only a man whose proposals
she had refused, and whose merits she had under-
valued; but to her own more extensive informa-
tion he was the person to whom the whole family
were indebted for the first of benefits, and whom
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 207
she regarded herself with an interest, if not quite
so tender, at least as reasonable and just as what
Jane felt for Bingley. Her astonishment at his
coming — at his coming to Netherfield, to Long-
bourn, and voluntarily seeking her again — was
almost equal to what she had known on first
witnessing his altered behavior in Derbyshire.
The color which had been driven from her face
returned for half a minute with an additional
glow, and a smile of delight added lustre to her
eyes, as she thought for that space of time that his
affection and wishes must still be unshaken; but
she would not be secure.
"Let me first see how he behaves,' f said she;
"it will then be early enough for expectation.' '
She sat intently at work, striving to be com-
posed, and without daring to lift up her eyes, till
anxious curiosity carried them to the face of her
sister as the servant was approaching the door.
Jane looked a little paler than usual, but more
sedate than Elizabeth had expected. On the gen-
tlemen's appearing, her color increased; yet she
received them with tolerable ease, and with a pro-
priety of behavior equally free from any symptom
of resentment or any unnecessary complaisance.
Elizabeth said as little to either as civility
would allow, and sat down again to her work,
with an eagerness which it did not often com-
mand. She had ventured only one glance at
208 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
Darcy. He looked serious as usual, and, she
thought, more as he had been used to look ic
Hertfordshire than as she had seen him at Pem-
berley. But, perhaps, he could not in her
mother's presence be what he was before her
uncle and aunt. It was a painful but not an
improbable conjecture.
Bingley she had likewise seen for an instant,
and in that short period saw him looking both
pleased and embarrassed. He was received by
Mrs. Bennet with a degree of civility which made
her two daughters ashamed, especially when con-
trasted with the cold and ceremonious politeness
of her courtesy and address of his friend.
Elizabeth particularly, who knew that her
mother owed to the latter the preservation of her
favorite daughter from irremediable infamy, was
hurt and distressed to a most painful degree by a
distinction so ill applied.
Darcy, after inquiring of her how Mr. and
Mrs. Gardiner did, — a question which she could
not answer without confusion, — said scarcely any-
thing. He was not seated by her: perhaps that
was the reason of his silence; but it had not been
so in Derbyshire. There he had talked to her
friends when he could not to herself. But now
several minutes elapsed, without bringing the
sound of his voice ; and when occasionally, unable
to resist the impulse of curiosity, she raised her
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 209
eyes to his face, she as often found him looking at
Jane as at herself, and frequently on no object but
the ground. More thoughtf ulness and less anxiety
to please than when they last met were plainly ex-
pressed. She was disappointed, and angry with
herself for being so.
"Could I expect it to be otherwise? " said she.
" Yet why did he come? w
She was in no humor for conversation with
any one but himself; and to him she had hardly
courage to speak.
She inquired after his sister, but could do no
more.
"It is a long time, Mr. Bingley, since you
went away," said Mrs. Bennet.
He readily agreed to it.
"I began to be afraid you would never come
back again. People did say you meant to quit the
place entirely at Michaelmas; but, however, I
hope it is not true. A great many changes have
happened in the neighborhood since you went
away. Miss Lucas is married and settled; and
one of my own daughters. I suppose you have
heard of it ; indeed, you must have seen . it in the
papers. It was in the Times and the Courier,
I know; though it was not put in as it ought to
be. It was only said, ' Lately, George Wickham,
Esq., to Miss Lydia Bennet/ without there being
a syllable said of her father, or the place where
VOL. II. — 14
M
210 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
she lived, or anything. It was my brother Gar-
diner's drawing up, too, and I wonder how he
came to make such an awkward business of it.
Did you see it?"
NBingley replied that he did, and made his con-
gratulations. Elizabeth dared not lift up her
eyes. How Mr. Darcy looked, therefore, she
could not tell.
" It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a
daughter well married," continued her mother;
"but at the same time, Mr. Bingley, it is very
hard to have her taken away from me. They are
gone down to Newcastle, a place quite northward,
it seems; and there they are to stay, I do not
know how long. His regiment is there ; for I sup-
pose you have heard of his leaving the shire,
and of his being gone into the Regulars. Thank
Heaven! he has some friends, though, perhaps,
not so many as he deserves."
Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr.
Darcy, was in such misery of shame that she
could hardly keep her seat. It drew from her,
however, the exertion of speaking, which noth-
ing else had so effectually done before; and she
asked Bingley whether he meant to make any
stay in the country at present. A few weeks, he
believed.
"When you have killed all your own birds,
Mr. Bingley," said her mother, "I beg you will
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 211
come here and shoot as many as you please on Mr.
Bennet's manor. I am sure he will be vastly
happy to oblige you, and will save all the best of
the coveys for you."
Elizabeth's misery increased at such unnecessary,
such officious attention ! Were the same fair pros-
pect to arise at present as had flattered them a
year ago, everything, she was persuaded, would be
hastening to the same vexatious conclusion. At
that instant she felt that years of happiness could
not make Jane or herself amends for moments of
such painful confusion.
"The first wish of my heart," said she to her-
self, "is nevermore to be in company with either
of them. Their society can afford no pleasure that
will atone for such wretchedness as this! Let me
never see either one or the other again! "
Yet the misery, for which years of happiness
were to offer no compensation, received soon after-
wards material relief, from observing how much
the beauty of her sister rekindled the admiration
of her former lover. When first he came in, he
had spoken to her but little; but every five min-
utes seemed to be giving her more of his attention.
He found her as handsome as she had been last
year; as good-natured and as unaffected, though
not quite so chatty. Jane was anxious that no
difference should be perceived in her at all, and
was really persuaded that she talked as much as
212 PRTDE AND PREJUDICE.
ever; but her mind was so busily engaged that
she did not always know when she was silent.
When the gentlemen rose to go away, Mrs.
Bennet was mindful of her intended civility, and
they were invited and engaged to dine at Long-
bourn in a few days' time.
" You are quite a visit in my debt, Mr. Bing-
ley," she added; "for when you went to town
last winter, you promised to take a family dinner
with us as soon as you returned. I have not for-
got, you see; and I assure you I wasr very much
disappointed that you did not come back and keep
your engagement."
Bingley looked a little silly at this reflection,
and said something of his concern at having been
prevented by business. They then went away.
Mrs. Bennet had been strongly inclined to ask
them to stay and dine there that day; but though
she always kept a very good table, she did not
think anj'thing less than two courses could be good
enough for a man on whom she had such anxious
designs, or satisfy the appetite and pride of one
who had ten thousand a year.
CHAPTER XXI.
As soon as they were gone, Elizabeth walked out
to recover her spirits, or, in other words, to dwell
without interruption on those subjects that must
deaden them more. Mr. Darcy's behavior aston-
ished and vexed her.
"Why, if he came only to be silent, grave, and
indifferent/ * said she, " did he come at all? "
She could settle it in no way that gave her
pleasure.
" He could be still amiable, still pleasing to my
uncle and aunt, when he was in town; and why
not to me? If he fears me, why come hither? If
he no longer cares for me, why silent? Teas-
ing, teasing man! I will think no more about
him."
Her resolution was for a short time involuntarily
kept by the approach of her sister, who joined her
with a cheerful look which showed her better satis-
fied with their visitors than Elizabeth.
"Now," said she, "that this first meeting is
over, I feel perfectly easy. I know my own
strength, and I shall never be embarrassed again
by his coming. I am glad he dines here on Tues-
214 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
day. It will then be publicly seen that on both
sides we meet only as common and indifferent
acquaintance."
" Yes, very indifferent indeed," said Elizabeth,
laughingly. "Oh, Jane, take care!"
" My dear Lizzy, you cannot think me so weak
as to be in danger now."
" I think you are in very great danger of making
him as much in love with you as ever."
They did not see the gentlemen again till Tues-
day; and Mrs. Bennet in the mean while was
giving way to all the happy schemes which the
good-humor and common politeness of Bingley in
half an hour's visit had revived.
On Tuesday there was a large party assembled
at Longbourn; and the two who were most anx-
iously expected, to the credit of their punctuality
as sportsmen, were in very good time. When
they repaired to the dining-room, Elizabeth eagerly
watched to see whether Bingley would take the
place which in all their former parties had be-
longed to him, by her sister. Her prudent mother,
occupied by the same ideas, forbore to invite him
to sit by herself. On entering the room he seemed
to hesitate; but Jane happened to look round, and
happened to smile: it was decided. He placed
himself by her.
Elizabeth, with a triumphant sensation, looked
towards his friend. He bore it with noble in-
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
215
difference; and she would have imagined that
Bingley had received his sanction to be happy,
had she not seen his eyes likewise turned towards
Mr. Darcy, with an expression of half-laughing
alarm.
His behavior to her sister was such during
dinner-time as showed an admiration of her which,
though more guarded than formerly, persuaded
Elizabeth that if left wholly to himself, Jane's
happiness and his own would be speedily secured.
Though she dared not depend upon the conse-
quence, she yet received pleasure from observing
his behavior. It gave her all the animation that
her spirits could boast; for she was in no cheerful
humor. Mr. Darcy was almost as far from her as
the table could divide them. He was on one side
of her mother. She knew how little such a situa-
tion would give pleasure to either, or make either
appear to advantage. She was not near enough to
hear any of their discourse; but she could see how
seldom they spoke to each other, and how formal
and cold was their manner whenever they did.
Her mother's ungraciousness made the sense of
what they owed him more painful to Elizabeth's
mind; and she would at times have given any-
thing to be privileged to tell him that his kind-
ness was neither unknown nor unfelt by the whole
of the family.
She was in hopes that the evening would afford
|
ij
j>*4
K
■r*
f\(A'
216 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
some opportunity of bringing them together; that
the whole of the visit would not pass away without
enabling them to enter into something more of
conversation than the mere ceremonious salutation
attending his entrance. Anxious and uneasy, the
period which passed in the drawing-room before
the gentlemen came was wearisome and dull to a
degree that almost made her uncivil. She looked
forward to their entrance as the point on which
all her chance of pleasure for the evening must
depend.
" If he does not come to me then," said she, " I
shall give him up forever."
The gentlemen came ; and she thought he looked
as if he would have answered her hopes : but, alas !
the ladies had crowded round the table where Miss
Bennet was making tea, and Elizabeth pouring out
the coffee, in so close a confederacy that there was
not a single vacancy near her which would admit
of a chair. And on the gentlemen's approaching,
one of the girls moved closer to her than ever,
and said in a whisper —
" The men sha'n't come and part us, I am deter-
mined. We want none of them; do we? "
Darcy had walked away to another part of the
room. She followed him with her eyes, envied
every one to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience
enough to help anybody to coffee, and then was
enraged against herself for being so silly!
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 217
"A man who has or je been refused! How
could I ever be foolish enough to expect a renewal
of his love? Is there one among the sex who
would not protest against such a weakness as a
second proposal to the same woman? There is
no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings."
She was a little revived, however, by his bring-
ing back his coffee-cup himself; and she seized the
opportunity of saying, —
"Is your sister at Pemberley still? "
"Yes; she will remain there till Christmas."
"And quite alone? Have all her friends left
her?"
"Mrs. Annesley is with her. The others have
been gone on to Scarborough these three weeks.' '
She could think of nothing more to say; but if
he wished to converse with her, he might have
better success. He stood by her, however, for
some minutes in silence; and at last, on the young
lady's whispering to Elizabeth again, he walked
away.
When the tea-things were removed, and the
card-tables placed, the ladies all rose, and Eliza-
beth was then hoping to be soon joined by him,
when all her views were overthrown by seeing
him fall a victim to her mother's rapacity for whist-
players, and in a few moments after seated with
the rest of the party. She now lost every expec-
tation of pleasure. They were confined for the
218 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
evening at different tablt^, and she had nothing t<?
hope, but that his eyes were so often turned to-
wards her side of the room as to make him play as
unsuccessfully as herself.
Mrs. Bennet had designed to keep the two
Netherfield gentlemen to supper; but their car-
riage was, unluckily, ordered before any of the
others, and she had no opportunity of detaining
them.
"Well, girls," said she, as soon as they were
left to themselves, " what say you to the day? I
think everything has passed off uncommonly well,
I assure you. The dinner was as well dressed as
any I ever saw. The venison was roasted to a
turn, — and everybody said they never saw so fat
a haunch. The soup was fifty times better than
what we had at the Lucases last week ; and even
Mr. Darcy acknowledged that the partridges were
remarkably well done; and I suppose he has two
or three French cooks at least. And, my dear
Jane, I never saw you look in greater beauty.
Mrs. Long said so too, for I asked her whether
you did not. And what do you think she said
besides? 'Ah! Mrs. Bennet, we shall have her
at Netherfield at last! 9 She did, indeed. I do
think Mrs. Long is as good a creature as ever
lived, and her nieces are very pretty behaved
girls, and not at all handsome; I like them
prodigiously."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 219
Mrs. Bennet, in short, was in very great spirits :
she had seen enough of Bingley's behavior to Jane
to be convinced that she would get him at last;
and her expectations of advantage to her family,
when in a happy humor, were so far beyond reason
that she was quite disappointed at not seeing him
there again the next day to make his proposals.
"It has been a very agreeable day," said Miss
Bennet to Elizabeth. " The party seemed so well
selected, so suitable one with the other. I hope
we may often meet again."
Elizabeth smiled.
" Lizzy, you must not do so. You must not sus-
pect me. It mortifies sme. I assure you that I
have now learned to enjoy his conversation as an
agreeable and sensible young man without having
a wish beyond it. I am perfectly satisfied, from
what his manners now are, that he never had any
design of engaging my affection. It is only that
he is blessed with greater sweetness of address,
and a stronger desire of generally pleasing, than
any other man."
"You are very cruel/ ' said her sister; "you
will not let me smile, and are provoking me to it
every moment."
"How hard it is in some cases to be believed,
and how impossible in others! But why should
you wish to persuade me that I feel more than I
acknowledge?"
220 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
"That is a question which I hardly know how
to answer. We all love to instruct, though we
can teach only what is not worth knowing. For-
give me ; and if you persist in indifference, do not
make me your confidante."
mm
CHAPTER XXII.
A few days after this visit, Mr. Bingley called
again, and alone. His friend had left him that
morning for London, but was to return home in
ten days' time. He sat with them above an hour,
and was in remarkably good spirits. Mrs. Bennet
invited him to dine with them ; but with many ex-
pressions of concern, he confessed himself engaged
elsewhere.
"Next time you call,,, said she, "I hope we
shall be more lucky."
He should be particularly happy at any time,
etc. ; and if she would give him leave, would take
an early opportunity of waiting on them.
" Can you come to-morrow? ff
Yes, he had no engagement at all for to-morrow;
and her invitation was accepted with alacrity.
He came, and in such very good time that the
ladies were none of them dressed. In ran Mrs.
Bennet to her daughter's room, in her dressing-
gown, and with her hair half finished, crying
out, —
"My dear Jane, make haste and hurry down.*
He is come, — Mr. Bingley is come; he is, in-
222 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
deed. Make haste, make haste. Here, Sarah, come
to Miss Bennet this moment, and help her on with
her gown. Never mind Miss Lizzy's hair."
"We will he down as soon as we can," said
Jane; "but I dare say Kitty is forwarder than
either of us, for she went upstairs half an hour
ago."
"Oh! hang Kitty! what has she to do with it?
Come, he quick, he quick! Where is your sash,
my dear? "
But when her mother was gone, Jane would not
be prevailed on to go down without one of her
sisters.
The same anxiety to get them by themselves was
visible again in the evening. After tea Mr. Ben-
net retired to the library, as was his custom, and
Mary went upstairs to her instrument. Two
obstacles of the five being thus removed, Mrs. Ben-
net sat looking and winking at Elizabeth and
Catherine for a considerable time, without making
any impression on them. Elizabeth would not
observe her; and when at last Kitty did, she very
innocently said, "What is the matter, mamma?
What do you keep winking at me for? What am
I to do? "
"Nothing, child, nothing. I did not wink at
you." She then sat still five minutes longer; but
unable to waste such a precious occasion, she
suddenly got up, and saying to Kitty, —
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 223
"Come here, my love, I want to speak to you,"
took her out of the room. Jane instantly gave a
look at Elizabeth which spoke her distress at such
premeditation, and her entreaty that she would not
give in to it. In a few minutes Mrs. Bennet
half opened the door and called out, —
" Lizzy, my dear, I want to speak with you."
Elizabeth was forced to go.
"We may as well leave them by themselves,
you know," said her mother, as soon as she was in
the hall. "Kitty and I are going upstairs to sit
in my dressing-room."
Elizabeth made no attempt to reason with her
mother, but remained quietly in the hall till she
and Kitty were out of sight, then returned into
the drawing-room.
Mrs. Bennet's schemes for this day were inef-
fectual. Bingley was everything that was charm-
ing, except the professed lover of her daughter.
His ease and cheerfulness rendered him a most
agreeable addition to their evening party ; and he
bore with the ill-judged officiousness of the mother,
and heard all her silly remarks with a forbearance
and command of countenance particularly grateful
to the daughter.
He scarcely needed an invitation to stay supper;
and before he went away an engagement was
formed, chiefly through his own and Mrs. Bennet's
means, for his coming next morning to shoot with
her husband.
224 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
After this day Jane said no more of her indif-
ference. Not a word passed between the sisters
concerning Bingley; but Elizabeth went to bed in
the happy belief that all must speedily be con-
cluded, unless Mr. Darcy returned within the
stated time. Seriously, however, she felt toler-
ably persuaded that all this must have taken place
with that gentleman's concurrence.
Bingley was punctual to his appointment; and
he and Mr. Bennet spent the morning together, as
had been agreed on. The latter was much more
agreeable than his companion expected. There
was nothing of presumption or folly in Bingley
that could provoke his ridicule, or disgust him
into silence ; and he was more communicative and
less eccentric than the other had ever seen him.
Bingley of course returned with him to dinner;
and in the evening Mrs. Bennet's invention was
again at work to get everybody away from him and
her daughter. Elizabeth, who had a letter to
write, went into the breakfast-room for that pur-
pose soon after tea; for as the others were all going
to sit down to cards, she could not be wanted to
counteract her mother's schemes.
But on her returning to the drawing-room, when
her letter was finished, she saw, to her infinite
surprise, there was reason to fear that her mother
had been too ingenious for her. On opening the
door, she perceived her sister and Bingley standing
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 225
together over the hearth, as if engaged in earnest
conversation ; and had this led to no suspicion, the
faces of both, as they hastily turned Bound and
moved away from each other, would have told it
all. Their situation was awkward enough; but
hers she thought was still worse. Not a syllable
was uttered by either; and Elizabeth was on the
point of going away again, when Bingley, who as
well as the other had sat down, suddenly rose, and
whispering a few words to her sister, ran out of
the room.
Jarie could have no reserves from Elizabeth,
where confidence would give pleasure; and in-
stantly embracing her, acknowledged, with the
liveliest emotion, that she was the happiest creat-
ure in the world.
" 'T is too much, " she added, " by far too much !
I do not deserve it. Oh, why is not everybody
as happy?"
Elizabeth's congratulations were given with a
sincerity, a warmth, a delight, which words could
but poorly express. Every sentence of kindness
was a fresh source of happiness to Jane. But she
would not allow herself to stay with her sister,
or say half that remained to be said, for the
present.
"I must go instantly to my mother," she cried.
"I would not on any account trifle with her af-
fectionate solicitude, or allow her to hear it from
VOL. II. — 15
226 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
any one but myself. He is gone to my father
already. Oh, Lizzy, to know that what I have
to relate will give such pleasure to all my dear
family! How shall I bear so much happiness? "
She then hastened away to her mother, who
had purposely broken up the card-party, and was
sitting upstairs with Kitty.
Elizabeth, who was left by herself, now smiled
at the rapidity and ease with which an affair was
finally settled that had given them so many pre-
vious months of surprise and vexation.
"And this," said she, "is the end of all his
friend's anxious circumspection, of all his sister's
falsehood and contrivance, the happiest, wisest,
and most reasonable end!,,
In a few minutes she was joined by Bingley,
whose conference with her father had been short
and to the purpose.
"Where is your sister?" said he, hastily, as
he opened the door.
"With my mother upstairs. She will be down
in a moment, I dare say."
He then shut the door, and coming up to her,
claimed the good wishes and affection of a sister.
Elizabeth honestly and heartily expressed her de-
light in the prospect of their relationship. They
shook hands with great cordiality; and then, till
her sister came down, she had to listen to all he
had to say of his own happiness and of Jane's
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 227
perfections; and in spite of his being a lover,
Elizabeth really believed all his expectations oi
felicity to be rationally founded, because they had
for basis the excellent understanding and super-
excellent disposition of Jane, and a general
similarity of feeling and taste between her and
himself.
It was an evening of no common delight to
them all. The satisfaction of Miss Bennet's mind
gave such a glow of sweet animation to her face
as made her look handsomer than ever. Kitty
simpered and smiled, and hoped her turn was
coming soon. Mrs. Bennet could not give her
consent or speak her approbation in terms warm
enough to satisfy her feelings, though she talked
to Bingley of nothing else for half an hour; and
when Mr. Bennet joined them at supper, his
voice and manner plainly showed how really
happy he was.
Not a word, however, passed his lips in allu-
sion to it, till their visitor took his leave for the
night; but as soon as he was gone, he turned to
his daughter and said, —
"Jane, I congratulate you. You will be a
very happy woman."
Jane went to him instantly, kissed him, and
thanked him for his goodness.
"You are a good girl," he replied, "and I
have great pleasure in thinking you will be so
228 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
/!
happily settled. I have not a doubt of your do-
ing very well together. Your tempers are by no
means unlike. You are each of you so comply-
ing that nothing will ever be resolved on, so
easy that every servant will cheat you, and
so generous that you will always exceed your
income."
"I hope not so. Imprudence or thoughtlessness
in money matters would be unpardonable in me."
" Exceed their income! My dear Mr. Bennet,"
cried his wife, " what are you talking of? Why,
he has four or five thousand a year, and very likely
more." Then addressing her daughter, "Oh, my
dear, dear Jane, I am so happy! I am sure I
sha'n't get a wink of sleep all night. I knew
how it would be. I always said it must be so, at
last. I was sure you could not be so beautiful for
nothing! I remember, as soon as ever I saw him,
when he first came into Hertfordshire last year, I
thought how likely it was that you should come to-
gether. Oh, he is the handsomest young man that
ever was seen! "
Wickham, Lydia, were all forgotten. Jane was
beyond competition her favorite child. At that
moment she cared for no other. Her younger sis-
ters soon began to make interest with her for ob-
jects of happiness which she might in future be
able to dispense.
Mary petitioned for the use of the library at
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 229
Netherfield ; and Kitty begged very hard for a few
balls there every winter.
Bingley, from this time, was of course a daily
visitor at Longbourn: coming frequently before
breakfast, and always remaining till after supper;
unless when some barbarous neighbor, who could
not be enough detested, had given him an invita-
tion to dinner which he thought himself obliged
to accept.
Elizabeth had now but little time for conversa-
tion with her sister; for while he was "present Jane
had no attention to bestow on any one else : but
she found herself considerably useful to both of
them, in those hours of separation that must some-
times occur. In the absence of Jane, he always
attached himself to Elizabeth, for the pleasure of
talking of her; and when Bingley was gone, Jane
constantly sought the same means of relief.
"He has made me so happy/ ' said she, one
evening, "by telling me that he was totally igno-
rant of my being in town last spring! I had not
believed it possible.''
"I suspected as much," replied Elizabeth.
"But how did he account for it?"
"It must have been his sisters' doing. They
were certainly no friends to his acquaintance with
me, which I cannot wonder at, since he might
have chosen so much more advantageously in many
respects. But when they see, as I trust they will,
230 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
that their brother is happy with me, they will
learn to be contented, and we shall be on good
terms again; though we can never be what we
once were to each other.' '
"That is the most unforgiving speech,' ' said
Elizabeth, "that I ever heard you utter. Good
girl ! It would vex me, indeed, to see you again
the dupe of Miss Bingley's pretended regard.''
"Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he
went to town last November he really loved me,
/ and nothing but a persuasion of my being indif-
f ferent would have prevented his coming down
again? "
" He made a little mistake, to be sure; but it is
to the credit of his modesty.,,
This naturally introduced a panegyric from Jane
on his diffidence, and the little value he put on his
own good qualities.
Elizabeth was pleased to find that he had not
betrayed the interference of his friend ; for though
Jane had the most generous and forgiving heart in
the world, she knew it was a circumstance which
must prejudice her against him.
" I am certainly the most fortunate creature that
ever existed! " cried Jane. " Oh, Lizzy, why am
I thus singled from my family, and blessed above
them all? If I could but see you as happy! If
there were but such another man for you! "
" If you were to give me forty such men, I never
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
231
could be so happy as you. Till I have your dispo-
sition, your goodness, I never can have your hap-
piness. No, no, let me shift for myself ; and
perhaps, if I have very good luck, I may meet
with another Mr. Collins in time."
The situation of affairs in the Longbourn family
could not be long a secret. Mrs. Bennet was privi-
leged to whisper it to Mrs. Philips ; and she ven-
tured, without any permission, to do the same by
all her neighbors in Meryton.
The Bennets were speedily pronounced to be the
luckiest family in the world; though only a few
weeks before, when Lydia had first run away, they
had been generally proved to be marked out for
misfortune.
CHAPTER XXIII.
One morning, about a week after Bingley's en-
gagement with Jane had been formed, as he and
the females of the family were sitting together in
the dining-room, their attention was suddenly
drawn to the window by the sound of a carriage ;
and they perceived a chaise and four driving up
the lawn. It was too early in the morning for
visitors, and besides, the equipage did not answer
to that of any of their neighbors : the horses were
post; and neither the carriage, nor the livery of
the servant who preceded it, was familiar to them.
As it was certain, however, that somebody war
coming, Bingley instantly prevailed on Miss Ben-
net to avoid the confinement of such an intrusion,
and walk away with him into the shrubbery.
They both set off; an<T the conjectures of the re-
maining three continued, though with little satis-
faction, till the door was thrown open, and their
visitor entered. It was Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
They were of course all intending to be sur-
prised: but their astonishment was beyond their
expectation; and on the part of Mrs. Bennet and
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 233
Kitty, though she was perfectly unknown to them,
even inferior to what Elizabeth felt.
She entered the room with an air more than
usually ungracious, made no other reply to Eliza-
beth's salutation than a slight inclination of the
head, and sat down without saying a word. Eliza-
beth had mentioned her name to her mother on her
Ladyship's entrance, though no request of intro-
duction had been made.
Mrs. Bennet, all amazement, though flattered by
having a guest of such high importance, received
her with the utmost politeness. After sitting for
a moment in silence, she said very stiffly to
Elizabeth, —
"I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. That lady,
I suppose, is your mother? "
Elizabeth replied very concisely that she was.
" And that, I suppose, is one of your sisters? "
"Yes, madam," said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to
speak to a Lady Catherine. " She is my youngest
girl but one. My youngest of all is lately married,
*nd my eldest is somewhere about the ground,
walking with a young man who, I believe, will
soon become a part of the family."
"You have a very small park here," returned
Lady Catherine, after a short silence.
"It is nothing in comparison of Rosings, my
Lady, I dare say; but I assure you it is much
larger than Sir William Lucas's."
234 PKIDE AND PREJUDICE.
" This must be a most inconvenient sitting-room
for the evening in summer; the windows are full
west."
Mrs. Bennet assured her that they never sat
there after dinner; and then added, —
" May I take the liberty of asking your Lady-
ship whether you left Mr. and Mrs. Collins
well?"
" Yes, very well. I saw them the night before
last."
Elizabeth now expected that she would produce
a letter for her from Charlotte, as it seemed the
only probable motive for her calling. But no
letter appeared, and she was completely puzzled.
Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, begged her
Ladyship to take some refreshment; but Lady
Catherine very resolutely and not very politely
declined eating anything; and then, rising up,
said to Elizabeth, —
"Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish
kind of a little wilderness on one side of your
lawn. I should be glad to take a turn in it, if you
will favor me with your company."
"Go, my dear," cried her mother, "and show
her Ladyship about the different walks. I think
she will be pleased with the hermitage."
Elizabeth obeyed; and running into her own
room for her parasol, attended her noble guest
downstairs. As they passed through the hall,
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 235
Lady Catherine opened the doors into the dining-
parlor and drawing-room, and pronouncing them,
after a short survey, to be decent-looking rooms,
walked on.
Her carriage remained at the door, and Eliza-
beth saw that her waiting-woman was in it. They
proceeded in silence along the gravel walk that led
to the copse ; Elizabeth was determined to make no
effort for conversation with a woman who was now
more than usually insolent and disagreeable.
" How could I ever think her like her nephew?"
said she, as she looked in her face.
As soon as they entered the copse, Lady Cath-
erine began in the following manner : —
" You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to under-
stand the reason of my journey hither. Your
own heart, your own conscience, must tell you
why I come."
Elizabeth looked with unaffected astonishment.
" Indeed you are mistaken, madam; I have not
been at all able to account for the honor of seeing
you here."
"Miss Bennet," replied her Ladyship, in an
angry tone, "you ought to know that I am not to
be trifled with. But however insincere you may
choose to be, you shall not find me so. My char-
acter has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and
frankness ; and in a cause of such moment as this,
I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a
236 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
most alarming nature reached me two days ago. I
was told that not oi^y your sister was on the point
of being most advantageously married, but that
you, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet would in all
likelihood be soon afterwards united to my
nephew, my own nephew, Mr. Darcy. Though I
know it must be a scandalous falsehood, though I
would not injure him so much as to suppose the
truth of it possible, I instantly resolved on setting
off for this place, that I might make my sentiments
known to you."
"If you believed it impossible to be true," said
Elizabeth, coloring with astonishment and disdain,
"I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far.
What could your Ladyship propose by it?"
"At once to insist upon having such a report
universally contradicted."
"Your coming to Longboum to see me and my
family," said Elizabeth, coolly, "will be rather a
confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a report is in
existence."
"If! Do you then pretend to be ignorant of it?
Has it not been industriously circulated by your-
selves? Do you not know that such a report is
spread abroad?"
" I never heard that it was."
"And can you likewise declare that there is no
foundation for it?"
"I do not pretend to possess equal frankness
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 237
with your Ladyship. You may ask questions which
I shall not choose to answer."
"This is not to be borne. Miss Bennet, I in-
sist on being satisfied. Has he, has my nephew,
made you an offer of marriage?"
"Your Ladyship has declared it to be impos-
sible."
"It ought to be so; it must be so, while he
retains the use of his reason. But your arts and
allurements may, in a moment of infatuation, have
made him forget what he owes to himself and to
all his family. You may have drawn him in."
"If I have, I shall be the .last person to con-
fess it."
"Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I
have not been accustomed to such language as
this. I am almost the nearest relation he has in
the world, and am entitled to know all his dearest
j
<
"But you are not entitled to know mine; nor h
will such behavior as this ever induce me to be \l V
explicit." fy\ {/
"Let me be rightly understood. This match, to \a
which you have the presumption to aspire, can \j* \
never take place; no, never. Mr. Darcy is en-
gaged to my daughter. Now what have you to
say?"
"Only this, — that if he is so, you can have no
reason to suppose he will make an offer to me."
238 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment, and
then replied, —
"The engagement between them is of a peculiar
kind. From their infancy, they have been in-
tended for each other. It was the favorite wish of
, his mother, as well as of hers. While in their
j cradles we planned the union; and now, at the
I moment when the wishes of both sisters would be
! accomplished in their marriage, to be prevented by
a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance
in the world, and wholly unallied to the family!
Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends,
to his tacit engagement with Miss de Bourgh?
Are you lost to every feeling of propriety and
delicacy? Have you not heard me say that from
his earliest hours he was destined for his cousin? "
"Yes; and I had heard it before. But what is
that to me? If there is no other objection to my
marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be
kept from it by knowing that his mother and aunt
wished him to marry Miss de Bourgh. You both
did as much as you could in planning the mar-
riage. Its completion depended on others. If
Mr. Darcy is neither by honor nor inclination con-
fined to his cousin, why is not he to make another
choice? And if I am that choice, why may not I
accept him? "
"Because honor, decorum, prudence, nay in-
terest, forbid it. Yes, Miss Bennet, interest for
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 239
do not expect to be noticed by his family or friends
if you wilfully act against the inclinations of all.
You will be censured, slighted, and despised by
every one connected with him. Your alliance will
be a disgrace ; your name will never even be men-
tioned by any of us."
"These are heavy misfortunes/' replied Eliza-
beth. "But the wife of Mr. Darcy must have
such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily
attached to her situation, that she could, upon the
whole, have no cause to repine."
"Obstinate, headstrong girl! lam ashamed of
you! Is this your gratitude for my attentions to
you last spring? Is nothing due to me on that
score? Let us sit down. You are to understand,
Miss Bennet, that I came here with the deter-
mined resolution of carrying my purpose ; nor will
I be dissuaded from it. I have not been used to
submit to any person's whims. I have not been
in the habit of brooking disappointment. "
"That will make your Ladyship's situation at
present more pitiable; but it will have no effect
on me."
"I will not be interrupted! Hear me in si-
lence. My daughter and my nephew are formed
for each other. They are descended, on the ma-
ternal side, from the same noble line ; and on the
father's, from respectable, honorable, and ancient,
though untitled families. Their fortune on both
240 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
sides is splendid. They are destined for each
other by the voice of every member of their re-
spective houses; and what is to divide them? —
the upstart pretensions of a young woman without
family, connections, or fortune! Is this to be
endured? But it must not, shall not be! If you
were sensible of your own good, you would not
wish to quit the sphere in which you have been
brought up."
"In marrying your nephew, I should not con-
sider myself as quitting that sphere. He is a
gentleman; I am a gentleman's daughter: so far
we are equal.' •
"True. You are a gentleman's daughter. But
what was your mother? Who are your uncles and
aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their
condition."
"Whatever my connections may be," said Eliz-
abeth, "if your nephew does not object to thenr
they can be nothing to you."
" Tell me, once for all, are you engaged to him? "
Though Elizabeth would not, for the mere pur-
pose of obliging Lady Catherine, have answered
this question, she could not but say, after a mo-
ment's deliberation, —
"I am not."
Lady Catherine seemed pleased.
"And will you promise me never to enter into
such an engagement?"
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 241
"I will make no promise of the kind."
u Miss Bennet, I am shocked and astonished.
I expected to find a more reasonable young woman.
But do not deceive yourself into a belief that I will
ever recede. I shall not go away till you have
given me the assurance I require."
" And I certainly never shall give it. I am not
to be intimidated into anything so wholly unrea-
sonable. Your Ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to
marry your daughter; but would my giving you
the wished-for promise make their marriage at all
more probable? Supposing him to be attached to
me, would my refusing to accept his hand make
him wish to bestow it on his cousin? Allow me
to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with
which you have supported this extraordinary appli-
cation have been as frivolous as the application
was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my
character, if you think I can be worked on by such
persuasions as these. How far your nephew might
approve of your interference in his affairs, I cannot
tell; but you have certainly no right to concern
yourself in mine. I must beg, therefore, to be
importuned no further on the subject."
"Not so hasty, if you please. I have by no
means done. To all the objections I have already
urged I have still another to add. I am no
stranger to the particulars of your youngest sis-
ter's infamous elopement. I know it all; that the
VOL. II. — 16
242
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
V.
young man's marrying her was a patched-up busi*
ness, at the expense of your father and uncle.
And is such a girl to be my nephew's sister? Is
her husband, who is the son of his late father's
steward, to be his brother? Heaven and earth!
of what are you thinking? Are the shades of
Pemberley to be thus polluted?"
"You can now have nothing further to say,"
she resentfully answered. " You have insulted
me in every possible method. I must beg to
return to the house."
And she rose as she spoke. Lady Catherine
rose also, and they turned back. Her Ladyship
was highly incensed.
"You have no regard, then, for the honor and
credit of my nephew! Unfeeling, selfish girl!
Do you not consider that a connection with you
must disgrace him in the eyes of everybody? "
"Lady Catherine, I have nothing further to
say. You know my sentiments."
"You are then resolved to have him?"
"I have said no such thing. I am only re-
solved to act in that manner which will, in my
own opinion, constitute my happiness, without
reference to you, or to any person so wholly un-
connected with me."
"It is well. You refuse, then, to oblige me.
You refuse to obey the claims of duty, honor, and
gratitude. You are determined to ruin him in the
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 243
opinion of all his friends, and make him the con-
tempt of the world."
" Neither duty nor honor nor gratitude," re-
plied Elizabeth, "has any possible claim on me
in the present instance. No principle of either
would be violated by my marriage with Mr. Darcy.
And with regard to the resentment of his family,
or the indignation of the world, if the former were
excited by his marrying me, it would not give
me one moment's concern, — and the world in
general would have too much sense to join in the
scorn."
"And this is your real opinion! This is your
final resolve ! Very well. I shall now know how
to act. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that your
ambition will ever be gratified. I came to try you.
I hoped to find you reasonable j but depend upon
it, I will carry my point."
In this manner Lady Catherine talked on till
they were at the door of the carriage, when, turn-
ing hastily round, she added, —
"I take no leave of you, Miss Bennet. I send
no compliments to your mother. You deserve no
such attention. I am most seriously displeased."
Elizabeth made no answer; and without attempt-
ing to persuade her Ladyship to return into the
house, walked quietly into it herself. She heard
the carriage drive away as she proceeded upstairs.
Her mother impatiently met her at the door of her
24:4: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
dressing-room, to ask why Lady Catherine would
not come in again and rest herself.
"She did not choose it," said her daughter;
"she would go."
"She is a very fine-looking woman, and her
calling here was prodigiously civil! for she only
came, I suppose, to tell us the Collinses were well.
She is on her road somewhere, I dare say; and so,
passing through Meryton, thought she might as
well call on you. I suppose she had nothing par-
ticular to say to you, Lizzy?"
Elizabeth was forced to give in to a little false-
hood here; for to acknowledge the substance of
their conversation was impossible.
CHAPTEE XXIV.
The discomposure of spirits which this extraordi
nary visit threw Elizabeth into could not be easily
overcome, nor could she for many hours learn to
think of it less than incessantly. Lady Catherine,
it appeared , had actually taken the trouble of this
journey from Rosings for the sole purpose of break-
ing off her supposed engagement with Mr. Darcy.
It was a rational scheme, to be sure j but from what
the report of their engagement could originate,
Elizabeth was at a loss to imagine, till she recol-
lected that his being the intimate friend of Bing-
ley, and her being the sister of Jane, was enough,
at a time when the expectation of one wedding
made everybody eager for another, to supply the
idea. She had not herself forgotten to feel that
the marriage of her sister must bring them more
frequently together. And her neighbors at Lucas
Lodge, therefore (for through their communica-
tion with the Collinses the report, she concluded,
had reached Lady Catherine), had only set that
down as almost certain and immediate which she
had looked forward to as possible at some future
time.
246 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
In revolving Lady Catherine's expressions, how«
ever, she could not help feeling some uneasiness
as to the possible consequence of her persisting in
this interference. From what she had said of her
resolution to prevent the marriage, it occurred to
Elizabeth that she must meditate an application
to her nephew; and how he might take a similar
representation of the e*vils attached to a connection
with her she dared not pronounce. She knew not
the exact degree of his affection for his aunt, or
his dependence on her judgment, but it was nat-
ural to suppose that he thought much higher of
her Ladyship than ohe could do; and it was cer-
tain that in enumerating the miseries of a mar-
riage with one whose immediate connections were
so unequal to his own, his aunt would address him
on his weakest side. With his notions of dignity,
he would prohably feel that the arguments which
to Elizabeth had appeared weak and ridiculous
contained much good sense and solid reasoning.
If he had been wavering before as to what he
should do, which had often seemed likely, the
advice and entreaty of so near a relation might
settle every doubt, and determine him at once to
be as happy as dignity unblemished could make
him. In that case he would return no more.
Lady Catherine might see him in her way through
town; and his engagement to Bingley of coming
again to Netherfield must give way.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 247
"If, therefore, an excuse for not keeping his
promise should come to his friend within a few
days," she added, "I shall know how to under-
stand it. I shall then give over every expectation,
every wish of his constancy. If he is satisfied
with only regretting me, when he might have ob-
tained my affections and hand, I shall soon cease
to regret him at all."
The surprise of the rest of the family, on hear-
ing who their visitor had been, was very great;
but they obligingly satisfied it with the same kind
of supposition which had appeased Mrs. Bennet's
curiosity, and Elizabeth was spared from much
teasing on the subject.
The next morning, as she was going down-
stairs, she was met by her father, who came out
of his library with a letter in his hand.
"Lizzy," said he, "I was going to look for
you: come into my room."
She followed him thither; and her curiosity to
know what he had to tell her was heightened by
the supposition of its being in some manner con-
nected with the letter he held. It suddenly struck
her that it might be from Lady Catherine, and
she anticipated with dismay all the consequent
explanations.
She followed her father to the fireplace, and
they both sat down. He then said, —
"I have received a letter this morning that has
248 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
astonished me exceedingly. As it principally
concerns yourself, you ought to know its contents.
I did not know before that I had two daughters
on the brink of matrimony. Let me congratulate
you on a very important conquest."
The color now rushed into Elizabeth's cheeks in
the instantaneous conviction of its being a letter
from the nephew, instead of the aunt; and she
was undetermined whether most to be pleased
that he explained himself at all, or offended that
his letter was not rather addressed to herself,
when her father continued, —
"You look conscious. Young ladies have great
penetration in such matters as these; but I think
I may defy even your sagacity to discover the
name of your admirer. This letter is from Mr.
Collins."
"From Mr. Collins! and what can he have to
say?"
" Something very much to the purpose, of course.
He begins with congratulations on the approach-
ing nuptials of my eldest daughter, of which it
seems he has been told by some of the good-
natured, gossiping Lucases. I shall not sport
with your impatience by reading what he says
on that point. What relates to yourself is as
follows : —
' Having thus offered you the sincere congratulations
of Mrs. Collins and myself on this happy event, let me
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 249
now add a short hint on the subject of another, of which
we have been advertised by the same authority. Your
daughter Elizabeth, it is presumed, will not long bear
the name of Bennet, after her eldest sister has resigned
it ; and the chosen partner of her fate may be reasonably
looked up to as one of the most illustrious personages in
this land.'
"Can you possibly guess, Lizzy, who is meant
by this?
* This young gentleman is blessed, in a peculiar way,
with everything the heart of mortal can most desire, —
splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive patron-
age. Yet, in spite of all these temptations, let me warn
my cousin Elizabeth and yourself of what evils you may
incur by a precipitate closure with this gentleman's pro-
posals, which, of course, you will be inclined to take
immediate advantage of.'
"Have you any idea, Lizzy, who this gentleman
is? But now it comes out.
1 My motive for cautioning you is as follows : we have
reason to imagine that his aunt, Lady Catherine de
Bourgh, does not look on the match with a friendly eye.'
"Mr. Darcy, you see, is the man! Now, Lizzy,
I think I have surprised you. Could he or the
Lucases have pitched on any man within the
circle of our acquaintance whose name would have
given the lie more effectually to what they related?
Mr. Darcy, who never looks at any woman but to
see a blemish, and who probably never looked at
you in his life! It is admirable!"
250 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
Elizabeth tried to join in her father's pleas-
antry, but could only force one most reluctant
smile. Never had his wit been directed in a
manner so little agreeable to her.
"Are you not diverted?"
"Oh, yes. Pray read on."
" ' After mentioning the likelihood of this marriage to
her Ladyship last night, she immediately, with her usual
condescension, expressed what she felt on the occasion ;
when it became apparent that on the score of some
family objections on the part of my cousin she would
never give her consent to what she termed so disgraceful
a match. I thought it my duty to give the speediest in-
telligence of this to my cousin, that she and her noble
admirer may be aware of what they are about, and not
run hastily into a marriage which has not been properly
sanctioned.'
"Mr. Collins, moreover, adds, —
' I am truly rejoiced that my cousin Lydia's sad busi-
ness has been so well hushed up, and am only concerned
that their living together before the marriage took place
should be so generally known. I must not, however,
neglect the duties of my station, or refrain from declar-
ing my amazement, at hearing that you received the
young couple into your house as soon as they were
married. It was an encouragement of vice ; and had I
been the rector of Longbourn, I should very strenuously
have opposed it. You ought certainly to forgive them as
a Christian, but never to admit them in your sight, or
allow their names to be mentioned in your hearing/
"That is his notion of Christian forgiveness!
The rest of his letter is only about his dear Char-
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 251
lotte's situation, and his expectation of a young
olive-branch. But, Lizzy, you look as if you
did not enjoy it. You are not going to be
missish, I hope, and pretend to be affronted at
an idle report. For what do we live, but to make
sport for our neighbors, and laugh at them in
our turn?"
"Oh," cried Elizabeth, "I am exceedingly
diverted. But it is so strange! "
"Yes; that is what makes it amusing. Had
they fixed on any other man, it would have been
nothing; but his perfect indifference and your
pointed dislike make it so delightfully absurd!
Much as I abominate writing, I would not give up
Mr. Collinses correspondence for any consideration.
Nay, when I read a letter of his, I cannot help
giving him the preference even over Wickham,
much as I value the impudence and hypocrisy of
my son-in-law. And pray, Lizzy, what said Lady
Catherine about this report? Did she call to
refuse her consent?"
To this question his daughter replied only with
a laugh; and as it had been asked without the
least suspicion, she was not distressed by his re-
peating it. Elizabeth had never been more at a
loss to make her feelings appear what they were
not. It was necessary to laugh when she would
rather have cried. Her father had most cruelly
252 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
mortified her by what he said of Mr. Darcy's in-
difference ; and she could do nothing but wonder
at such a want of penetration, or fear that per-
haps, instead of his seeing too little, she might
have fancied too much.
CHAPTER XXV.
Instead of receiving any such letter of excuse
from his friend, as Elizabeth half expected Mr.
Bingley to do, he was able to bring Darcy with
him to Longbourn before many days had passed
after Lady Catherine's visit. The gentlemen ar-
rived early; and before Mrs. Bennet had time to
tell him of their having seen his aunt, of which
her daughter sat in momentary dread, Bingley,
who wanted to be alone with Jane, proposed their
all walking out. It was agreed to. Mrs. Bennet
was not in the habit of walking, Mary could never
spare time, but the remaining five set off together.
Bingley and Jane, however, soon allowed the
others to outstrip them. They lagged behind;
while Elizabeth, Kitty, and Darcy were to enter-
tain each other. Very little was said by either:
Kitty was too much afraid of him to talk; Eliza-
beth was secretly forming a desperate resolution;
and, perhaps, he might be doing the same.
They walked towards the Lucases, because Kitty
wished to call upon Maria; and as Elizabeth saw
no occasion for making it a general concern, when
Kitty left them, she went boldly on with him
254 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
alone. Now was the moment for her resolution to
be executed; and while her courage was high, she
immediately said, —
"Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature, and
for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings
care not how much I may be wounding yours. I
can no longer help thanking you for your unex-
ampled kindness to my poor sister. Ever since I
have known it I have been most anxious to acknowl-
edge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it
known to the rest of my family, I should not have
merely my own gratitude to express."
"I am sorry, exceedingly sorry," replied Darcy,
in a tone of surprise and emotion, "that you have
ever been informed of what may, in a mistaken
light, have given you uneasiness. I did not think
Mrs. Gardiner was so little to be trusted."
"You must not blame my aunt. Lydia's
thoughtlessness first betrayed to me that you had
been concerned in the matter; and, of course, I
could not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me
thank you again and again, in the name of all my
family, for that generous compassion which induced
you to take so much trouble and bear so many
mortifications for the sake of discovering them."
"If you will thank me," he replied, "let it be
for yourself alone. That the wish of giving hap-
piness to you might add force to the other induce-
ments which led me on, I shall not attempt to
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 255
deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much
as I respect them, I believe I thought only of
you."
Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a
word. After a short pause her companion added ;
" You are too generous to trifle with me. If your
feelings are still what they were last April, tell
me so at once. My affections and wishes are un-
changed; but one word from you will silence me
on this subject forever."
Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common
awkwardness and anxiety for his situation, now
forced herself to speak; and immediately, though
not very fluently, gave him to understand that
her sentiments had undergone so material a change
since the period to which he alluded as to make
her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present
assurances. The happiness which this reply pro-
duced was such as he had probably never felt
before; and he expressed himself on the occasion
as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in
love can be supposed to do. Had Elizabeth been
able to encounter his eyes, she might have seen
how well the expression of heartfelt delight, dif-
fused over his face, became him: but though she
could not look, she could listen; and he told her of
feelings which, in proving of what importance she
was to him, made his affection every moment more
valuable.
256 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
They walked on without knowing in what di-
rection. There was too much to be thought and
felt and said, for attention to any other objects.
She soon learned that they were indebted for their
present good understanding to the efforts of his
aunt, who did call on him in her return through
London, and there relate her journey to Long-
bourn, its motive, and the substance of her con-
versation with Elizabeth; dwelling emphatically
on every expression of the latter which in her
Ladyship's apprehension peculiarly denoted her
perverseness and assurance in the belief that such
a relation must assist her endeavors to obtain that
promise from her nephew which she had refused to
give. But unluckily for her Ladyship, its effect
had been exactly contrariwise.
"It taught me to hope," said he, "as I had
scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. I
\' r \ knew enough of your disposition to be certain
/ ^f ! that had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided
yf\ yj° against me, you would have acknowledged it to
•sT | Lady Catherine frankly and openly."
Elizabeth colored and laughed as she replied:
"Yes, you know enough of my frankness to believe
me capable of that. After abusing you so abomina-
bly to your face, I could have no scruple in abus-
ing you to all your relations."
"What did you say of me that I did not
deserve? For though your accusations were ill-
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 257
founded, formed on mistaken premises, my be-
havior to you at the time had merited the severest
reproof. It was unpardonable. I cannot think o
it without abhorrence. "
"We will not quarrel for the greater share of
blame annexed to that evening, " said Elizabeth.
"The conduct of neither, if strictly examined,
will be irreproachable; but since then we have
both, I hope, improved in civility."
"I cannot be so easily reconciled to myself.
The recollection of what I then said, of my con-
duct, my manners, my expressions during the
whole of it, is now, and has been many months,
inexpressibly painful to me. Your reproof, so
well applied, I shall never forget: 'Had you be-
haved in a more gentlemanlike manner.' Those
were your words. You know not, you can scarcely
conceive, how they have tortured me; though it
was some time, I confess, before I was reasonable
enough to allow their justice."
"I was certainly very far from expecting them to
make so strong an impression. I had not the small-
est idea of their being ever felt in such a way."
"I can easily believe it. You thought me then
devoid of every proper feeling, I am sure you did.
The turn of your countenance I shall never forget,
as you said that I could not have addressed you in
any possible way that would induce you to accept
me."
VOL. II. — 17
258 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
"Oh, do not repeat what I then said. These
recollections will not do at all. I assure you that
I have long been most heartily ashamed of it."
Darcy mentioned his letter. " Did it," said he,
— "did it soon make you think better of me?
Did you, on reading it, give any credit to its
contents? "
She explained what its effects on her had been,
and how gradually all her former prejudices had
been removed.
"I knew," said he, "that what I wrote must
give you pain, but it was necessary. I hope you
have destroyed the letter. There was one part,
especially the opening of it, which I should dread
your having the power of reading again. I can
remember some expressions which might justly
make you hate me."
" The letter shall certainly be burned, if you be-
lieve it essential to the preservation of my regard;
but though we have both reason to think my opin-
ions not entirely unalterable, they are not, I hope,
quite so easily changed as that implies."
"When I wrote that letter," replied Darcy, "I
believed myself perfectly calm and cool; but I am
since convinced that it was written in a dreadful
bitterness of spirit."
"The letter, perhaps, began in bitterness, but
it did not end so. The adieu is charity itself.
But think no more of the letter. The feelings of
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 259
the person who wrote and the person who received J
it are now so widely different from what they were i
then, that every unpleasant circumstance attending
it ought to be forgotten. You must learn some of
my philosophy. Think only of the past as its re-
membrance gives you pleasure."
"I cannot give you credit for any philosophy of
the kind. Your retrospections must be so totally
void of reproach, that the contentment arising
from them is not of philosophy, but, what is much
better, of ignorance. But with me it is not so.
Painful recollections will intrude, which cannot,
which ought not to be repelled. I have been a
selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in
principle. As a child I was taught what was
right, but I was not taught to correct my temper.
I was given good principles, but left to follow them
in pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son
(for many years an only child), I was spoiled by
my parents, who, though good themselves (my
father, particularly, aH that was benevolent and
amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me
to be selfish and overbearing, to care for none be-
yond my own family circle, to think meanly of all
the rest of the world, to wish at least to think
meanly of their sense and worth compared with my
own. Such I was, from eight to eight-and-twenty;
and such I might still have been but for you, dear-
est, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you!
260 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but
most advantageous. By you I was properly hum-
bled. I came to you without a doubt of my re-
ception. You showed me how insufficient were all
my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being
pleased."
"Had you then persuaded yourself that I
should? "
"Indeed I had. What will you think of my
vanity? I believed you to be wishing, expecting
my addresses."
' i My manners must have been in fault, but not
intentionally, I assure you. I never meant to de-
ceive you, but my spirits might often lead me
wrong. How you must have hated me after that
evening! "
" Hate you! I was angry, perhaps, at first, but
my anger soon began to take a proper direction. M
" I am almost afraid of asking what you thought
of me when we met at Pemberley. You blamed
me for coming? "
"No, indeed; I felt nothing but surprise."
"Your surprise could not be greater than mine
in being noticed by you. My conscience told me
that I deserved no extraordinary politeness, and I
confess that I did not expect to receive more than
my due."
" My object then," replied Darcy, "was to show
you, by every civility in my power, that I was not
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 261
so mean as to resent the past; and I hoped to ob-
tain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill-opinion, by
letting you see that your reproofs had been at-
tended to. How soon any other wishes introduced
themselves, I can hardly tell, but I believe in
about half an hour after I had seen you."
He then told her of Georgiana's delight in her
acquaintance, and of her disappointment at its sud-
den interruption; which naturally leading to the
cause of that interruption, she soon learned that
his resolution of following her from Derbyshire in
quest of her sister had been formed before he
quitted the inn, and that his gravity and thought-
fulness there had arisen from no other struggles
than what such a purpose must comprehend.
She expressed her gratitude again, but it was
too painful a subject to each to be dwelt on
further.
After walking several miles in a leisurely man-
ner, and too busy to know anything about it, they
found at last, on examining their watches, that it
was time to be at home.
" What could have become of Mr. Bingley and
Jane ! " was a wonder which introduced the discus-
sion of their affairs. Darcy was delighted with their
engagement; his friend had given him the earliest
information of it.
"I must ask whether you were surprised? " said
Elizabeth.
262 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
"Not at all. When I went away, I felt that it
would soon happen."
"That is to say, you had given your permission.
I guessed as much." And though he exclaimed
at the term, she found that it had been pretty
much the case.
" On the evening before my going to London,' '
said he, "I made a confession to him, which I be-
lieve I ought to have made long ago. I told him
of all that had occurred to make my former inter-
ference in his affairs absurd and impertinent. His
surprise was great. He had never had the slight-
est suspicion. I told him, moreover, that I be-
lieved myself mistaken in supposing, as I had
done, that your sister was indifferent to him; and
as I could easily perceive that his attachment to
her was unabated, I felt no doubt of their happiness
together."
Elizabeth could not help smiling at his easy
manner of directing his friend.
"Did you speak from your own observation,"
said she, "when you told him that my sister
loved him, or merely from my information last
spring? "
"From the former. I had narrowly observed
her, during the two visits which T had lately made
her here; and I was convinced of ner affection."
"And your assurance of it, I suppose, carried
immediate conviction to him."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 263
" It did. Bingley is most unaffectedly modest.
His diffidence had prevented his depending on his
own judgment in so anxious a case, but his re-
liance on mine made everything easy. I was
obliged to confess one thing, which for a time, and
not unjustly, offended him. I could not allow my-
self to conceal that your sister had been in town
three months last winter, that I had known it, and
purposely kept it from him. He was angry. But
his anger, I am persuaded, lasted no longer than he
remained in any doubt of your sister's sentiments.
He has heartily forgiven me now."
Elizabeth longed to observe that Mr. Bingley
had been a most delightful friend, so easily guided
that his worth was invaluable; but she checked
herself. She remembered that he had yet to learn
to be laughed at, and it was rather too early to
begin. In anticipating the happiness of Bingley,
which of course was to be inferior only to his own,
he continued the conversation till they reached the
house. In the hall they parted.
CHAPTER XXVI.
" My dear Lizzy, where can you have been walk-
ing to? " was a question which Elizabeth received
from Jane as soon as she entered the room, and
from all the others when they sat down to table.
She had only to say, in reply, that they had wan-
dered about till she was beyond her own knowl-
edge. She colored as she spoke; but neither that
nor anything else awakened a suspicion of the
truth.
The evening passed quietly, unmarked by any-
thing extraordinary. The acknowledged lovers
talked and laughed; the unacknowledged were
silent. Darcy was not of a disposition in which
happiness overflows in mirth; and Elizabeth, agi-
tated and confused, rather knew that she was happy
than felt herself to be so ; for, besides the immedi-
ate embarrassment, there were other evils before
her. She anticipated what would be felt in the
family when her situation became known : she was
aware that no one liked him but Jane; and even
feared that with the others it was a dislike which
not all his fortune and consequence might do
away.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 265
At night she opened her heart to Jane. Though
suspicion was very far from Miss Bennet's general
habits, she was absolutely incredulous here.
"You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be! En-
gaged to Mr. Darcy ! No, no, you shall not deceive
me: I know it to be impossible."
"This is a wretched beginning, indeed! My
sole dependence was on you; and I am sure nobody
else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed,
I am in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth.
He still loves me, and we are engaged.' '
Jane looked at her doubtingly. " Oh, Lizzy,
it cannot be. I know how much you dislike
him."
" You know nothing of the matter. That is all
to be forgot. Perhaps I did not always love him
so well as I do now; but in such cases as these, a
good memory is unpardonable. This is the last
time I shall ever remember it myself."
Miss Bennet still looked all amazement. Eliza-
beth again, and more seriously, assured her of its
truth.
" Good Heaven! can it be really so? Yet now I
must believe you,' J cried Jane. "My dear, dear
Lizzy, I would, I do congratulate you ; but are you
certain — forgive the question — are you quite
certain that you can be happy with him? "
"There can be no doubt of that. It is settled
between us already that we are to be the happiest
266 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
couple in the world. But are you pleased, Jane?
Shall you like to have such a brother? "
"Very, very much. Nothing could give either
Bingley or myself more delight. But we consid-
ered it, we talked of it as impossible. And do you
really love him quite well enough? Oh, Lizzy,
do anything rather than marry without affection.
Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought
to do?"
" Oh, yes! You will only think I feel more
than I ought to do when I tell you all."
" What do you mean? "
" Why, I must confess that I love him better than
I do Bingley. I am afraid you will be angry."
" My dearest sister, now be, be serious. I want
to talk very seriously. Let me know everything
that I am to know without delay. Will you tell
me how long you have loved him? "
"It has been coming on so gradually that I
hardly know when it began; but I believe I must
date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds
at Pemberley."
Another entreaty that she would be serious,
however, produced the desired effect ; and she soon
satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances of attach-
ment. When convinced on that article, Miss
Bennet had nothing further to wish.
"Now lam quite happy," said she, "for you
tfill be as happy as myself. I always had a value
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 267
for him. Were it for nothing but his love of you,
I must always have esteemed him; but now, as
Bingley's friend and your husband, there can be
only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. But,
Lizzy, you have been very sly, very reserved with
me. How little did you tell me of what passed at
Pemberley and Lambton! I owe all that I know
of it to another, not to you."
Elizabeth told her the motives of her secrecy.
She had been unwilling to mention Bingley; and
the unsettled state of her own feelings had made
her equally avoid the name of his friend : but now
she would no longer conceal from her his share in
Lydia's marriage. All was acknowledged, and
half the night spent in conversation.
" Good gracious! M cried Mrs. Bennet, as she
stood at a window the next morning, " if that dis-
agreeable Mr. Darcy is not coming here again with
our dear Bingley! What can he mean by being
so tiresome as to be always coming here? I had
no notion but he would go a-shooting, or something
or other, and not disturb us with his company.
What shall we do with him? Lizzy, you must
walk out with him again, that he may not be in
Bingley's way."
Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at so con-
venient a proposal, yet was really vexed that her
mother should be always giving him such an
epithet.
268 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at her
so expressively, and shook hands with such warmth,
as left no doubt of his good information; and he
soon afterwards said aloud, "Mrs. Bennet, have
you no more lanes hereabouts in which Lizzy may
lose her way again to-day? "
"I advise Mr. Darcy and Lizzy and Kitty,' '
said Mrs. Bennet, "to walk to Oakham Mount
this morning. It is a nice long walk, and Mr.
Darcy has never seen the view."
"It may do very well for the others," replied
Mr. Bingley; "but I am sure it will be too much
for Kitty. Won't it, Kitty? "
Kitty owned that she had rather stay at home.
Darcy professed a great curiosity to see the view
from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently consented.
As she went upstairs to get ready, Mrs. Bennet
followed her, saying, —
"I am quite sorry, Lizzy, that you should be
forced to have that disagreeable man all to your-
self; but I hope you will not mind it. It is all
for Jane's sake, you know; and there is no occa-
sion for talking to him except just now and then,
so do not put yourself to inconvenience."
During their walk it was resolved that Mr.
Bennet's consent should be asked in the course
of the evening. Elizabeth reserved to herself the
application for her mother's. She could not de-
termine how her mother would take it: some-
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 269 „ v/v
times doubting whether all his wealth and gran-
deur would be enough to overcome her abhorrence
of the man; but whether she were violently set
against the match, or violently delighted with
it, it was certain that her manner would be
equally ill adapted to do credit to her sense; and
she could no more bear that Mr. Darcy should
hear the first raptures of her joy than the first
vehemence of her disapprobation.
In the evening, soon after Mr. Bennet with-
drew to the library, she saw Mr. Darcy rise also
and follow him, and her agitation on seeing it
was extreme. She did not fear her father's op-
position, but he was going to be made unhappy;
and that it should be through her means — that
she, his favorite child, should be distressing him
by her choice, should be filling him with fears
and regrets in disposing of her — was a wretched
reflection, and she sat in misery till Mr. Darcy
appeared again, when, looking at him, she was
a little relieved by his smile. In a few minutes
he approached the table where she was sitting
with Kitty; and while pretending to admire her
work, said in a whisper, "Go to your father;
he wants you in the library." She was gone
directly.
Her father was walking about the room, look-
ing grave and anxious. "Lizzy," said he, " what
are you doing? Are you out of your senses to
270 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
be accepting this man? Have not you always
hated him?"
How earnestly did she then wish that her for-
mer opinions had been more reasonable, her ex-
pressions more moderate! It would have spared
her from explanations and professions which it
was exceedingly awkward to give; but they were
now necessary, and she assured him, with some
confusion, of her attachment to Mr. Darcy.
"Or, in other words, you are determined to
have him. He is rich, to be sure, and you may
have more fine clothes and fine carriages than
Jane. But will they make you happy? "
"Have you any other objection," said Eliza-
beth, "than your belief of my indifference?"
"None at all. We all know him to be a proud,
unpleasant sort of man; but this would be noth-
ing if you really liked him."
"I do, I do like him," she replied, with tears
in her eyes; "I love him. Indeed he has no im-
proper pride. He is perfectly amiable. You do
not know what he really is; then pray do not
pain me by speaking of him in such terms."
"Lizzy," said her father, "I have given him
my consent. He is the kind of man, indeed, to
whom I should never dare refuse anything which
he condescended to ask. I now give it to you,
if you are resolved on having him. But let me
advise you to think better of it. I know your
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 271
disposition, Lizzy. I know that you could be
neither happy nor respectable unless you truly
esteemed your husband, unless you looked up to
him as a superior. Your lively talents would
place you in the greatest danger in an unequal
marriage. You could scarcely escape discredit
and misery. My child, let me not have the grief
of seeing you unable to respect your partner in
life. You know not what you are about.' '
Elizabeth, still more affected, was earnest and
solemn in her reply; and at length, by repeated
assurances that Mr. Darcy was really the object
of her choice, by explaining the gradual change
which her estimation of him had undergone, re-
lating her absolute certainty that his affection
was not the work of a day, but had stood the test
of many months' suspense, and enumerating with
energy all his good qualities, she did conquer
her father's incredulity, and reconcile him to the
match.
"Well, my dear," said he, when she ceased
speaking, "I have no more to say. If this be
the case, he deserves you. I could not have
parted with you, my Lizzy, to any one less
worthy. "
To complete the favorable impression, she then
told him what Mr. Darcy had voluntarily done
for Lydia. He heard her with astonishment.
"This is an evening of wonders, indeed! And
272 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
so Darcy did everything ; made up the match, gave
the money, paid the fellow's debts, and got him
his commission! So much the better. It will
save me a world of trouble and economy. Had it
been your uncle's doing, I must and would have
paid him; but these violent young lovers carry
everything their own way. I shall offer to pay
him to-morrow; he will rant and storm about his
love for you, and there will be an end of the
matter."
He then recollected her embarrassment a fe^\
days before on his reading Mr. Collins's letter;
and after laughing at her some time, allowed hex
at last to go, saying, as she quitted the room, " If
any young men come for Mary or Kitty, send them
in, for I am quite at leisure. "
Elizabeth's mind was now relieved from a very
heavy weight; and after half an hour's quiet re-
flection in her own room, she was able to join the
others with tolerable composure. Everything was
too recent for gayety, but the evening passed tran-
quilly away; there was no longer anything mate-
rial to be dreaded, and the comfort of ease and
familiarity would come in time.
When her mother went up to her dressing-room
at night, she followed her, and made the important
communication. Its effect was most extraordinary ;
for on first hearing it, Mrs. Bennet sat quite still,
and unable to utter a syllable. Nor was it under
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 273
many, many minutes that she could comprehend
what she heard, though not in general backward
to credit what was for the advantage of her family,
or that came in the shape of a lover to any of them.
She began at length to recover, to fidget about in
her chair, get up, sit down again, wonder, and
bless herself.
1 ( Good gracious ! Lord bless me ! Only think !
Dear me ! Mr. Darcy ! Who would have thought
it? And is it really true? Oh, my sweetest
Lizzy! how rich and how great you will be!
What pin-money, what jewels, what carriages you
will have! Jane's is nothing to it, — nothing at
all. [ am so pleased, so happy. Such a charm-
ing man! so handsome, so tall! Oh, my dear
Lizzy ! pray apologize for my having disliked him
so much before. I hope he will overlook it. Dear,
dear Lizzy ! A house in town ! Everything that
is charming! Three daughters married! Ten
thousand a year ! Oh, Lord ! what will become of
me? I shall go distracted."
This was enough to prove that her approbation
need not be doubted; and Elizabeth, rejoicing that
such an effusion was heard only by herself, soon
went away. But before she had been three min-
utes in her own room, her mother followed her.
"My dearest child," she cried, "I can think of
nothing else. Ten thousand a year, and very
likely more. ?Tis as good as a lord! And a
VOL. II. — 18
J
274 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
special license — you must and shall be married by
a special license. But, my dearest love, tell me
what dish Mr. Darcy is particularly fond of, that I
may have it to-morrow."
This was a sad omen of what her mother's be-
havior to the gentleman himself might be; and
Elizabeth found that though in the certain pos-
session of his warmest affection, and secure of her
relations'' consent, there was still something to be
wished for. But the morrow passed off much
better than she expected; for Mrs. Bennet luckily
stood in such awe of her intended son-in-law that
she ventured not to speak to him, unless it was in
her power to offer him any attention, or mark her
deference for his opinion.
Elizabeth had the satisfaction of seeing her
father taking pains to get acquainted with him;
, ^ and Mr. Bennet soon assured her that he was ris-
A<*> ing every hour in his esteem.
"I admire ril my three sons-in-law highly,"
! said he. "Wickham, perhaps, is my favorite;
but J think I shall like your husband quite as
.*
.c;' \ft> ■ well as Jane's."
£4,
CHAPTER XXVII.
Elizabeth's spirits soon rising to playfulness
again, she wanted Mr. Darcy to account for his
having ever fallen in love with her. M How could
you hegin? " said she. " I can comprehend your
going on charmingly, when you had once made a
beginning; but what could set you off in the first
place? "
"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the
look, or the words which laid the foundation. It
is too long ago. I was in the middle before I
knew that I had begun."
"My beauty you had early withstood; and as
for my manners, — my behavior to you was at least
always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke
to you without rather wishing to give you pain
than not. Now be sincere; did you admire me
for my impertinence? "
u For the liveliness of your mind I did."
" You may as well call it impertinence at once.
It was very little less. The fact is that you were
sick of civility, of deference, of officious attention.
You were disgusted with the women who were
276 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
always speaking and looking and thinking for
your approbation alone. I roused and interested
you, because I was so unlike them. Had you not
been really amiable, you would have hated me for
it; but in spite of the pains you took to disguise
yourself, your feelings were always noble and just,
and in your heart you thoroughly despised the
persons who so assiduously courted you. There —
I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it;
and really, all things considered, I begin to think
it perfectly reasonable. To be sure, you know no
actual good of me, — but nobody thinks of that
when they fall in love."
" Was there no good in your affectionate beha-
vior to Jane, while she was ill at Netherfield? "
" Dearest Jane! who could have done less for
her? But make a virtue of it, by all means. My
good qualities are under your protection, and you
are to exaggerate them as much as possible; and,
in return, it belongs to me to find occasions for
teasing and quarrelling with you as often as may
be; and I shall begin directly, by asking you what
made you so unwilling to come to the point at
last? What made you so shy of me, when you
first called, and afterwards dined here? Why, es-
pecially, when you called did you look as if you
did not care about me?"
" Because you were grave and silent, and gave
me no encouragement."
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 277
"But I was embarrassed."
"And so was I."
"You might have talked to me more when you
came to dinner."
"A man who had felt less might."
" How unlucky that you should have a reason-
able answer to give, and that I should be so rea-
sonable as to admit it! But I wonder how long
you would have gone on, if you had been left to
yourself. I wonder when you would have spoken
if I had not asked you ! My resolution of thank-
ing you for your kindness to Lydia had certainly
great effect. Too much I am afraid; for what be-
comes of the moral, if our comfort springs from a
breach of promise, for I ought not to have men-
tioned the subject? This will never do."
"You need not distress yourself. The moral
will be perfectly fair. Lady Catherine's unjustifi-
able endeavors to separate us were the means of
removing all my doubts. I am not indebted for
my present happiness to your eager desire of ex-
pressing your gratitude. I was not in a humor to
wait for an opening of yours. My aunt's intelli-
gence had given me hope, and I was determined at
once to know everything."
" Lady Catherine has been of infinite use, which
ought to make her happy, for she loves to be of
use. But tell me, what did you come down tc
Netherfield for? Was it merely to ride to Long-
278 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
bourn and be embarrassed, or had you intended
any more serious consequences ?"
"My real purpose was to see you, and to judge,
if I could, whether I might ever hope to make you
love me. My avowed one, or what I avowed to
myself, was to see whether your sister was still
partial to Bingley, and if she were, to make the
confession to him which I have since made."
" Shall you ever have courage to announce to
Lady Catherine what is to befall her? "
"I am more likely to want time than courage,
Elizabeth. But it ought to be done ; and if you
will give me a sheet of paper it shall be done
directly."
" And if I had not a letter to write myself, I
might sit by you, and admire the evenness of your
writing, as another young lady once did. But
I have an aunt, too, who must not be longer
neglected."
From an unwillingness to confess how much her
intimacy with Mr. Darcy had been overrated,
Elizabeth had never yet answered Mrs. Gardiner's
long letter; but now, having that to communicate
which she knew would be most welcome, she was
almost ashamed to find that her uncle and aunt
had already lost three days of happiness, and im*
mediately wrote as follows : —
I would have thanked you before, my dear aunt, as I
ought to have done, for your long, kind, satisfactory de-
PRD3E AND PREJUDICE. 279
tail of particulars ; but to say the truth, I was too cross
to write. You supposed more than really existed. But
now suppose as much as you choose ; give a loose to your
fancy, indulge your imagination in every possible flight
which the subject will afford, and unless you believe me
actually married, you cannot greatly err. You must
write again very soon, and praise him a great deal more
than you did in your last. I thank you again and again
for not going to the Lakes. How could I be so silly as
to wish it ? Your idea of the ponies is delightful. We
will go round the park every day. I am the happiest
creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so
before, but no one with such justice. I am happier even
than Jane ; she only smiles, I laugh. Mr. Darcy sends
you all the love in the world that can be spared from
me. You are all to come to Pemberley at Christmas.
Yours, etc.
Mr. Darcy's letter to Lady Catherine was in a
different style j and still different from either was
what Mr. Bennet sent to Mr. Collins, in return
for his last.
Dear Sir, — I must trouble you once more for con
gratulations. Elizabeth will soon be the wife of Mr.
Darcy. Console Lady Catherine as well as you can.
But if I were you, I would stand by the nephew. He
has more to give.
Yours sincerely, etc.
Miss Bingley's congratulations to her brother
on his approaching marriage were all that was
affectionate and insincere. She wrote even to
Jane on the occasion, to express her delight, and
280 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
repeat all her former professions of regard. Jane
was not deceived, but she was affected; and
though feeling no reliance on her, could not help
writing her a much kinder answer than she knew
was deserved.
The joy which Miss Darcy expressed on receiv-
ing similar information was as sincere as her
brother's in sending it. Four sides of paper were
insufficient to contain all her delight, and all her
earnest desire of being loved by her sister.
Before any answer could arrive from Mr. Collins,
or any congratulations to Elizabeth from his wife,
the Longbourn family heard that the Collinses
were come themselves to Lucas Lodge. The rea-
son of this sudden removal was soon evident.
Lady Catherine had been rendered so exceedingly
angry by the contents of her nephew's letter, that
Charlotte, really rejoicing in the match, was anx-
ious to get away till the storm was blown over.
At such a moment the arrival of her friend was a
sincere pleasure to Elizabeth, though in the course
of their meetings she must sometimes think the
pleasure dearly bought, when she saw Mr. Darcy
exposed to all the parading and obsequious civility
of her husband. He bore it, however, with ad-
mirable calmness. He could even listen to Sir
William Lucas, when he complimented him on
carrying away the brightest jewel of the coun-
try, and expressed his hopes of their all meeting
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 281
frequently at St. James's, with very d¢ com-
posure. If he did shrug his shoulders, it was not
till Sir William was out of sight.
Mrs. Philips's vulgarity was another, and per-
haps a greater tax on his forbearance j and though
Mrs. Philips, as well as her sister, stood in too
much awe of him to speak with the familiarity
which Bingley's good-humor encouraged, yet
whenever she did speak, she must be vulgar. Uor
was her respect for him, though it made her more
quiet, at all likely to make her more elegant.
Elizabeth did all she could to shield him from the
frequent notice of either, and was ever anxious to
keep him to herself, and to those of her family
with whom he might converse without mortifica-
tion ; and though the uncomfortable feelings aris-
ing from all this took from the season of courtship
much of its pleasure, it added to the hope of the
future ; and she looked forward with delight to the
time when they should be removed from society so
little pleasing to either, to all the comfort and
elegance of their family party at Pemberley.
O
CHAPTER XXV11L
Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day
on which Mrs. Bennet got rid of her two most
deserving daughters. With what delighted pride
she afterwards visited Mrs. Bingley, and talked of
Mrs. Darcy, may be guessed. I wish I could say,
for the sake of her family, that the accomplishment
of her earnest desire in the establishment of so
many of her children produced so happy an effect
as to make her a sensible, amiable, well-informed
woman for the rest of her life ; though, perhaps, it
was lucky for her husband, who might not have
relished domestic felicity in so unusual a form,
that she still was occasionally nervous and inva-
riably silly.
Mr. Bennet missed his second daughter exceed-
ingly; his affection for her drew him oftener from
home than anything else could do. He delighted
in going to Pemberley, especially when he was least
expected.
Mr. Bingley and Jane remained at Netherfield
only a twelvemonth. So near a vicinity to her
mother and Meryton relations was not desirable
even to his easy temper or her affectionate heart.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 283
The darling wish of his sisters was then gratified :
he hought an estate in a neighboring county to
Derbyshire; and Jane and Elizabeth, in addition
to every other source of happiness, were within
thirty miles of each other.
Kitty, to her very material advantage, spent the
chief of her time with her two elder sisters. In
society so superior to what she had generally
known, her improvement was great. She was not
of so ungovernable a temper as Lydia; and removed
from the influence of Lydia's example, she became,
by proper attention and management, less irritable,
less ignorant, and less insipid. Erom the further
disadvantage of Lydia's society she was of course
carefully kept; and though Mrs. Wickham fre-
quently invited her to come and stay with her,
with the promise of balls and young men, her
father would never consent to her going.
Mary was the only daughter who remained at
home;\ and she was necessarily drawn from the
pursuit of accomplishments by Mrs. Bennet's being
quite unable to sit alone. Mary was obliged to
mix more with the world, but she could still mor-
alize over every morning visit; and as she was no
longer mortified by comparisons between her sis-
ters' beauty and her own, it was suspected by her
father that she submitted to the change without
much reluctance.
As for Wickham and Lydia, their characters
284 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
suffered no revolution from the marriage of her
sisters. He hore with philosophy the conviction
that Elizabeth must now become acquainted with
whatever of his ingratitude and falsehood had he-
fore been unknown to her; and in spite of every-
thing, was not wholly without hope that Darcy
might yet be prevailed on to make his fortune.
The congratulatory letter which Elizabeth received
from Lydia on her marriage explained to her that,
by his wife at least, if not by himself, such a hope
was cherished. The letter was to this effect: —
My dear Lizzy, — I wish you joy. If you love Mr.
Darcy half so well as I do my dear Wickham, you must
be very happy. It is a great comfort to have you so
rich ; and when you have nothing else to do, I hope you
will think of us. I am sure Wickham would like a place
at court very much ; and I do not think we shall have
quite money enough to live upon without some help.
Any place would do of about three or four hundred a
year ; but, however, do not speak to Mr. Darcy about it,
if you had rather not.
Yours, etc.
As it happened that Elizabeth had much rather
not, she endeavored in her answer to put an end to
every entreaty and expectation of the kind. Such
relief, however, as it was in her power to afford by
the practice of what might be called economy in
her own private expenses, she frequently sent
them. It had always been evident to her that
such an income as theirs, under the direction of
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 285
two persons so extravagant in their wants and
heedless of the future, must be very insufficient to
their support; and whenever they changed their
quarters, either Jane or herself was sure of being
applied to for some little assistance towards dis-
charging their bills. Their manner of living,
even when the restoration of peace dismissed them
to a home, was unsettled in the extreme. They
were always moving from place to place in quest of
a cheap situation, and always spending more than
they ought. His affection for her soon sunk into in-
difference: hers lasted a little longer; and in spite
of her youth and her manners, she retained all the
claims to reputation which her marriage had given
her.
Though Darcy could never receive him at Pem-
berley, yet, for Elizabeth's sake, he assisted him
further in his profession. Lydia was occasionally
a visitor there, when her husband was gone to
enjoy himself in London or Bath; and with the
Bingleys they both of them frequently stayed so
long that even Bingley's good-humor was over-
come, and he proceeded so far as to talk of giving
them a hint to be gone.
Miss Bingley was very deeply mortified by
Darcy's marriage; but as she thought it advisable
to retain the right of visiting at Pemberley, she
dropped all her resentment ; was fonder than ever of
Georgiana, almost as attentive to Darcy as here-
286 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
tofore, and paid off every arrear of civility to
Elizabeth.
Pemberley was now Georgiana's home; and the
attachment of the sisters was exactly what Darcy
had hoped to see. They were able to love each
other, even as well as they intended. Georgiana
had the highest opinion in the world of Elizabeth ;
though at first she often listened with an astonish-
ment bordering on alarm at her lively, sportive
manner of talking to her brother. He, who had
always inspired in herself a respect which almost
overcame her affection, she now saw the object of
open pleasantry. Her mind received knowledge
which had never before fallen in her way. By
Elizabeth's instructions she began , to comprehend
that a woman may take liberties with her husband
which a brother will not always allow in a sister
more than ten years younger than himself.
Lady Catherine was extremely indignant on the
marriage of her nephew; and as she gave way to
all the genuine frankness of her character, in her
reply to the letter which announced its arrange-
ment, she sent him language so very abusive,
especially of Elizabeth, that for some time all in-
tercourse was at an end. But at length, by Eliza-
beth's persuasion, he was prevailed on to overlook
the offence and seek a reconciliation ; and after a
little further resistance on the part of his aunt,
her resentment gave way, either to her affection
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 287
for him, or her curiosity to see how his wife
conducted herself ;> and she condescended to wait
on them at Pemberley, in spite of that pollution
which its woods had received, not merely from the
presence of such a mistress, but "the visits of her
uncle and aunt from the city.
With the Gardiners they were always on the
most intimate terms. Darcy, as well as Elizabeth,
really loved them; and they were both ever sensi-
ble of the warmest gratitude towards the persons
who, by bringing her into Derbyshire, had been
the means of uniting them.
THE END.
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