™ Mi m '% I 1 'SB*' - omfon Austen E310127 Pride and prejudice NY PUBLIC LIBRARY THE BRANCH LBRARIES n?J jStferS. a ncf erne -t-f> CD F £ (joctn a J re/ace by ancT o7(T(jislra 'icons bu London. THE NEW YORK PUBli: .IBRARY ASTOR LEf.'DX TILDEN O CH1MV1CK I'KESS :— CHARLliS WIUTT1NGUA.M A\D CO. TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON. A / (J^r ^ * e > o J • . -'--•- r / , . ' v » •x , . . , . . . •«»* 4 , •• • * f~*-" -• „ ., --^'Xl. ).•.!• lG>.S-> \ 1 j^ £7 '' . ' ^f« . ,- - " _ — - WALT WHITMAN has somewhere a fine and just distinc- tion between "loving by allowance" and ." loving wit It personal love!' This distinction applies to books as well as to men and women ; and in the case of tJie not very numerous authors wJio are the objects of the personal affection, it brings a curious consequence with it. There is much more difference as to their best work than in the case of those others who are loved " by allowance" by conven- tion, and because it is felt to be the right and proper thing to love them. And in the sect — -fairly large and yet unusually choice — of Austenians or fanites, there would probably be found partisans of the claim to primacy of almost every one of the novels. To some tJie delightful freshness and humour of Northanger Abbey, its com- pleteness, finish, and entrain, obscure tJie undoubted critical facts that its scale is small, and its scheme, after all, that of burlesque or parody, a kind in which the first rank is reached with difficulty. Persuasion, relatively faint in tone, and not enthralling in interest, has devotees who exalt above all the otJiers its exquisite delicacy and keeping. TJie catastrophe of Mansfield Park is admittedly theatrical, the hero and heroine are insipid, and the author has almost X PREFACE. wiekedly destroyed all romantic in f crest bv express! Y admit- ting tJiat Edmund only took Fanny because Mary sJiocked him, and tJiat Fanny migJit very likely Jiave taken Crawford if he had been a little more assiduous; yet t/ie matchless rehearsal-scenes and tJic characters of JIj-s. Morris and others hare secured, I believe, a considerable party for it. Sense and Sensibility has perhaps the fewest out-and-out admirers ; but it does not want them. I suppose, however, that the majority of at least competent votes would, all things considered, be divided between Emma and the present book ; and perhaps t/ie vulgar verdict (if indeed a fondness for Miss A listen be not of itself a patent of exemption from any possible charge of vulgarity} would go for Emma. // is the larger, the more varied, the more popular ; the author had by the time of its composition seen rather more of the world, and had improved her general, though not her most peculiar and characteristic dialogue ; such figures as Miss Bates, as the Eltons, cannot but unite the suffrages of everybody. On the. other /land, I, for my part, declare for Pride and Prejudice unhesitatingly. It seems to me the most perfect, the jnost characteristic, the most eminently quintessential of its authors works; and for this contention in such narrow space as is pen/lifted to me, I propose here to show cause. In t lie first place, the book (it may be barely necessary to remind the reader] was in its Jirst shape written very early, somewhere about 1796, when Miss Austen was barely twentv- one ; though it was revised and finished at Chawton some fifteen years later, and was not published till 1813, only four years before her death. I do not know whether, in PREFACE. xi this combination of tJie fresJi and vigorous projection of youth) and tJie critical revision of middle life, there may be traced the distinct superiority in point of construction, wJiicJi, as it seems to me, it possesses over all tJie otliers. The plot, though not elaborate, is almost regular enough for Fielding ; hardly a character, hardly an incident could be retrenched without loss to the story. The elopement of Lydia and WickJiam is not, like that of Crawford and Mrs. Rushworth, a coup de theatre ; it connects itself in^ the strictest way with the course of the story earlier, and brings about the denouement with complete propriety. All the minor passages — the loves of Jane and Bingley, the advent of Mr. Collins, the visit to Hunsford, tJie Derby- shire tour— Jit in after the same unostentatious, but masterly fashion. There is no attempt at the hide-and-seek, in-and- out business, which in the transactions between Frank Churchill and Jane Fair-fax contributes no doubt a good deal to the intrigue of Emma, but contributes it in a fashion which I do not think the best feature of that otherwise admirable book. Although Miss Austen always liked something of the misunderstanding kind, wJiiclt afforded her opportunities for the display of the peculiar and incom- parable talent to be noticed presently, she has been satisfied here with the perfectly natural occasions provided by the false account of Darcy's conduct given by WickJiam, and by the awkwardness (arising with equal naturalness] from the gradual transformation of Elizabeths own feelings from positive aversion to actual love. I do not know whether the all-grasping Jiand of tJie playwright has ever been laid upon Pride and Prejudice ; and I dare say that, xii PREFACE. if it were, :'v situations :csuld / ve not startling garish enough for the footlights, the cha: -sc/ieme too :lc ami delicate for pit . \ * I gi :.'lcry. But if the attempt -... . :./t\ it n'oiila7 certainly not be liampe ed by any " those .' ." lesses of construction, u . retimes disga;\ the com :n fences of ichich the : :!ist can a-rail hi ins. tyear it .v on the sta^ I think, h. :. : . ", though t/ie : '. %Jti u ill doubtless seem ' to me : -tan one sclwol of critics > that construction 9 the highest merit, t'.:.'. icest gift, rf tJie * i-elist. It '-' '..v :tJier gifts and graces me si advantageously to the ' eye ; and tlie -n'ant of it i~cill sometimes mar t». 5 :iabh\ though not quite consciously — to eyes no means ultra-critical. But a :. badly-built •celled in patJietic or Jtumorous character, or I'cJiicJi • :immate command of dialogue — -pcrluips the rarest of all faculties — '.could infinitely better thing than a faultless plot acted and told by puppets with pebbles in their months. And despite the ability \~cJiicJi Miss Austen has shoii'n in -icorking out the story, I for one should put Pride and Prejudice far tower if it did not contain n'/uit •n to me the rery masterpieces of Miss Aiisteris humour and of her faculty of character . . ::ion — masterpieces u '. :v indeed admit John Thorpe, the Eltons, Mrs. Xor and one or tn'o others to tJteir company, but li'ho, in one instance certainly, and pcr/iaps in others, are still superior to them. The characteristics of Miss Austen's humour are so subtle and delicate that they are, perhaps, at all times easier to apprehend than to express, and at any particular PREFACE. xiii time likely to be differently apprehended by different persons. To me this humour seems to possess a greater affinity, on the whole, to tJiat of Addison than to any otJier of the numerous species of this great BritisJi genus. The differences of scheme, of time, of subject, of literary convention, are, of course, obvious enough ; the difference of sex does not, perhaps, count for much, for there was a distinctly feminine element in "Mr. Spectator" and in Jane Austens genius tJiere was, though nothing mannisJi, much that was mascu- line. But the likeness of quality consists in a great num- ber of common subdivisions of quality — demureness, extreme minuteness of touch, avoidance of loud tones and glaring effects. Also there is in both a certain not in Jut man or 21 n amiable cruelty. It is the custom with those who judge grossly to contrast the good nature of Addison with the savagery of Swift, the mildness of Miss Austen with the boisterousness of Fielding and Smollett, even with the ferocious practical jokes that her immediate predecessor, Miss Burney, allowed without very much protest. Yet, both in Mr. Addison and in Miss Austen there is, though a re- strained and well-mannered^ an insatiable and ruthless delight in roasting and cutting up a fool. A man in the early eighteenth century, of course, could pusli t/iis taste further than a lady in the early nineteenth ; and no doubt Miss Austen's principles, as well as her heart, would have shrunk from such things as the letter from the unfortunate husband in the Spectator, who describes, with all the gusto and all the innocence in the world, how his wife and his friend induce him to play at blind-man s-buff. But another Spectator letter — that of the damsel of fourteen who xiv PREFACE. wishes to marry Mr. Shapely, and assures Jicr selected Mentor that " he admires your Spectators mightily " — might have been written by a rather more ladylike and intelligent Lydia Bennet in the days of Lydids great- grandmother ; while, on the other hand, some (I think unreasonably) have found " cynicism ' in toucJies of Miss Austens own, such as her satire of Mrs. Musgroves self- deceiving regrets over Jier son. But this word " cynical ''' is one of the most misused in the English language, especially vvJien, by a glaring and gratuitous falsification of its original sense, it is applied, not to rough and snarl- ing invective, but to gentle and oblique satire. If cynicism means the perception of " the other side," the sense of " the accepted hells beneath" the consciousness that motives are nearly always mixed, and that to seem is not identical wit Ji to be — if this be cynicism, then every man and woman who is not a fool, who does not care to live in a fool's paradise, who has knowledge of nature and the world and life, is a cynic. And in that sense Miss Austen certainly was one. She may even have been one in the further sense that, like her own Mr. Bennet, she took an epicurean delight in dis- secting, in displaying, in setting at work her fools and her mean persons. I think she did take this delight, and I do not think at all the worse of her for it as a woman, while she was immensely the better for it as an artist. In respect of her art generally, Mr. Goldwin Smith has truly observed that " metaphor has been exhausted in de- picting the perfection of it, combined with the narrowness of her field ; " and lie has justly added that we need not go beyond her own comparison to the art of a miniature PREFACE. XV painter. To make this latter observation quite exact we must not use tJie term miniature in its restricted sense, and must think rather of Memling at one end of the history of painting and Meissonier at the other, than ofCosway or any of his kind. A nd I am not so certain that I should myself use the word " narrow " in connection with her. If her world is a microcosm, the cosmic quality of it is at least as eminent as the littleness. She does not touch what she did not feel herself called to paint ; I am not so sure that she could not have painted what she did not feel herself called to touch. It is at least remarkable that in two very sJiort periods of writing — one of about tJiree years, and another of not much more than five — she executed six capital works, and has not left a single failure. It is possible that the romantic paste in her composition zvas defective : we must always remember that hardly anybody born in her decode- that of the eighteenth-century seventies — independently ex- hibited the full romantic quality. Even Scott required hill and mountain and ballad, even Coleridge metaphysics and German to enable them to chip the classical shell. Miss Austen was an English girl, brought up in a country retirement, at the time when ladies went back into t/ie house if there was a white frost which might pierce their kid shoes, when a sudden cold was the subject of the gravest fears, when their studies, their ways, tJieir conduct were subject to all those fantastic limits and restrictions against which Mary Wollstonecraft protested with better general sense than particular taste or judgment. Miss Austen, too, drew back when the white frost touched her shoes ; but I think she would have made a pretty good journey even in a black one. xvi PREFACE. For if her knowledge was not very extended, she knew two tilings which only genius knows. The one was Jiumamty, and the ot/ier was art. On the first head she could not make a mistake ; her men, tJiougJi limited, are true, and Jier women are, in the old sense, " absolute'' As to art, if she has never tried idealism, Jier realism is real to a degree which makes the false realism of our own day look merely dead-alive. Take almost any Frenchman, except the late M. de Maupassant, and watch him laboriously piling up strokes in the hope of giving a complete impression. You get none; you are lucky if, discarding two-thirds of what he gives, you can shape a real impression out of the rest. But with Miss Austen the myriad, trivial, unforced strokes build up the picture like magic. NotJiing is false ; nothing is super- fluous. When (to take the present book only} Mr. Collins changed his mind from Jane to Elizabeth " while Mrs. Bennet was stirring the fire " (and we know how Mrs. Bennet would have stirred the fire], when Mr. Darcy " brought his coffee-cup back himself," the touch in each case is like that of Swift — " taller by the breadth of my nail" -which impressed the half-reluctant Thackeray with just and outspoken admiration. Indeed, fantastic as it may seem, I should put Miss Austen as near to Swift in some ways, as I have put her to Addison in others. This Swiftian quality appears in the present novel as it appears nowhere else in the character of the immortal, the ineffable J\Ir. Collins. Mr. Collins is really great ; far greater than anything Addison ever did, almost great enough for Fielding or for Swift himself. It has been said that no one ever was like him. But in the first PREFACE. xvii place, he was like him ; Jie is tJiere — alive, imperishable, more real than hundreds of prime ministers and archbishops, of " metals, semi-metals, and distinguished philosophers? In the second place, it is rash, I tJtink, to conclude that an actual Mr. Collins was impossible or non-existent at the end of the eighteenth century. It is very interesting that we possess, in this same gallery, what may be called a spoiled first draught, or an unsuccessful study of him, in JoJm DasJiwood. The formality, the under-breeding, the meanness, are there ; but the portrait is only half alive, and is felt to be even a little unnatural. Mr. Collins is perfectly natural, and perfectly alive. In fact, for all the "miniature" tJiere is something gigantic in the way in which a certain side, and more than one, of Jmmanity, and especially eighteenth-century humanity, its Philistinism, its well-meaning but hide-bound morality, its formal pettiness, its grovelling respect for rank, its materialism, its selfishness, receives exhibition. I will not admit that one speech or one action of this inestimable man is incapable of being reconciled with reality, and I sJwuld not wonder if many of these words and actions are historically true. But the greatness of Mr. Collins could not have been so satisfactorily exhibited if his creatress had not adjusted so artfully to him the figures of Mr. Bennet and of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. The latter, like Mr. Collins him- self, has been charged with exaggeration. There is,perJiaps, a very faint shade of colour for the charge ; but it seems to me very faint indeed. Even now I do not think that it would be impossible to find persons, especially female persons, not necessarily of noble birth, as overbearing, as b xviii PREFACE. self-centred, as neglectful of good manners, as Lady Cathe- rine. A hundred years ago, an earl's daughter, the Lady Powerful (if not exactly Bountiful) of an out-of-the-way country parish, rich, long out of marital authority, and so forth, had opportunities of developing these agreeable characteristics which seldom present themselves now. As for Mr. Ben net, Miss Austen, and Mr. Darcy, and even Miss Elizabeth herself, were, I am inclined to think, rather hard on him for the " impropriety " of his conduct. His wife was evidently, and must always have been, a quite irreclaimable fool ; and unless he had shot her or himself there was no way out of it for a man of sense and spirit but the ironic. From no other point of view is he open to any reproach, except for an ex- cusable and not unnatural helplessness at the crisis of the elopement, and Ids utterances are the most acutely delightful in the consciously humorous kind — in the kind that we laugh with, not at — that even Miss Austen has put into the mouth of any of her characters. It is difficult to know whether he is most agreeable when talking to his wife, or when putting Mr. Collins through his paces ; but the general sense of the world has probably been right in preferring to the first rank his consolation to the former when she maunders over the entail, "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 sur- vivor ; " and Ids inquiry to his colossal cousin as to the compliments which Mr. Collins has just related as made by himself to Lady Catherine, " May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, PREFACE xix or are the result of previous study ? " These are the things which give Miss Austen's readers the pleasant shocks, the delightful thrills, which are felt by the readers of Swift, of Fielding, and we may here add, of Thackeray, as they are felt by the readers of no other English author of fiction outside of these four. The goodness of the minor characters in Pride and Prejudice has been already alluded to, and it makes a detailed dwelling on their beauties difficult in any space, and impossible in this. Mrs. Bennet we have glanced at, and it is not easy to say whether she is more exquisitely amusing or more horribly true. Much the same may be said of Kitty and Lydia ; but it is not every author, even of genius, who would have differentiated with such unerring skill the effects of folly and vulgarity of intellect and disposition working upon the common weaknesses of woman at such different ages. With Mary, Miss Austen has taken rather less pains, though she has been even more unkind to her; not merely in the text, but, as we learn from those interesting traditional appendices which Mr. Austen Leigh has given us, in dooming her privately to marry " one of Mr. Philips s clerks" The habits of first • copying and then retailing moral sentiments, of playing and singing too long in public, are, no doubt, grievous and criminal ; but perhaps poor Mary zvas rather the scapegoat of the sins of blue stockings in that Fordyce-belectured generation. It is at any rate difficult not to extend to Jier a share of the respect and affection (affection and respect of a peculiar kind; doubtless], with which one regards Mr. Collins, when she draws the moral of Lydia' s fall. I XX PREFACE. sometimes wish tJiat the exigencies of the story had permitted Miss Austen to unite these personages, and ttms at once achieve a notable mating" and soothe poor Mrs. Bennefs anguish over the entail. The Binglcys and the Gardiner s and the Lucases, Miss Darcy and Miss de Bourgli, Jane, WickJiam, and the rest, must pass without special comment, further than the remark that Charlotte Lucas (her egregious papa, though delightful, is just a little on the thither side of the line between comedy and farce] is a wonderfully clever study in drab of one kind, and that WickJiam (though something of Miss Austen's hesitation of touch in dealing with young men appears] is a not nmcJi less notable sketch in drab of another. Only genius could have made Charlotte what she is, yet not disagreeable ; WickJiam what he is, without investing him either with a cheap Don fuanish attractive- ness or a disgusting rascality. But the hero and the heroine are not tints to be dismissed. Darcy lias always seemed to me by far the best and most interesting of Miss Austen's heroes ; the only possible com- petitor being Henry Tilney, whose part is so slight and simple that it hardly enters into comparison. It has sometimes, I believe, been urged that his pride is unnatural at first in its expression and later in its yielding, while his falling in love at all is not extremely probable. Here again I cannot go with the objectors. Darcy 's own account of the way in which his pride had been pampered, is perfectly rational and sufficient ; and nothing could be, psychologically speaking, a causa verier for its sudden restoration to healthy conditions than the shock of Elizabeth's scornful refusal acting on a nature PREFACE. xxi ex hypothesi generous. Nothing in even our author is finer and more delicately toucJied than the change of his de- meanour at the sudden meeting in the grounds of P ember ley. Had he been a bad prig or a bad coxcomb, Jie migJit have been still smarting under his rejection, or suspicious that the girl had come husband-hunting. His being neither is exactly consistent with the probable feelings of a man spoilt in the common sense, but not really injured in disposition, and thoroughly in love. As for his being in love, Elisabeth has given as just an exposition of the causes of that phenomenon as Darcy lias of the conditions of his imregenerate state, only she has of course not counted in what was diie to her own personal charm. The secret of that charm many men and not a few women, from Miss Austen herself downwards, Jiave felt, and like most charms it is a thing rather to be felt than to be explained. ElizabetJi of course belongs to the allegro or allegra division of the army of Venus. Miss Austen was always provokingly chary of description in regard to her beauties ; and except the fine eyes, and a hint or two that she had at any rate sometimes a bright complexion, and was not very tall, we hear nothing about her looks. But her chief difference from other heroines of the lively type seems to lie first in Jier being distinctly clever — almost strong- minded, in the better sense of that objectionable word — and secondly in Jier being entirely destitute of ill-nature for all her propensity to tease and the sharpness of her tongue. ElizabetJi can give at least as good as she gets when sJie is attacked ; but she never "scratches" and she never attacks first. Some of the merest obsoletenesses of phrase and XXll PREFACE. manner give one or two of her early speeches a sligJii pert ness, but that is notliing, and when she comes to serious business, as in tlie great proposal scene with Dairy (which is, as it should be, the climax of the interest of the book), and in the final ladies' battle witJi Lady Catherine, she is unexceptionable. Then too she is a perfectly natural girl. She does not disguise from herself or anybody that she resents Darcys first ill-mannered personality with as per- sonal a feeling. (By the -way, the reproach that the ill- manners of this speech are overdone is certainly unjust ; for things of the same kind, expressed no doubt less stiltedly but more coarsely, might have been heard in more than one ball-room during this very year from persons w/io ought to have been no worse bred than Darcy^} And she lets the injury done to Jane and the contempt shown to the rest of her family aggravate this resentment in the healthiest war in the world. Still, all this does not explain her charm, wJiicJi, taking beauty as a common form of all heroines^ may perhaps consist in the addition to her playfulness, Jierwit, lie r affectionate and natural disposition, of a certain fearlessness very uncommon in heroines of her type and age. Nearly all of them would have been in speechless awe of the magnificent Darcy ; nearly all of them would have palpitated and fluttered at the idea of proposals, even naughty ones, from the fascinat- ing WickJiam. Elizabeth, witJi nothing offensive, nothing viraginous, nothing of the "New Woman" about her, has by nature what the best modern (not " new ") women have by education and experience, a perfect freedom from the idea that all men may bully her if they choose, and that most will PREFACE. XX111 away with Jier if tJiey can. Though not in the least 41 impudent and mannish grown" she lias no mere sensi- bility, no nasty niceness about her. The form of passion common and likely to seem natural in Miss Austen's day was so invariably connected with the display of one or the other, or both of these qualities, that she has not made Elisa- beth outwardly passionate. But I, at least, have not the slightest do2ibt that she would have married Darcy just as willingly without Pemberley as with it, and anybody who can read between lines will not find the lovers' conversations in the final chapters so frigid as they might have looked to the Delia Cruscans of their own day, and perhaps do look to the Delia Cruscans of this. A nd, after all, what is the good of seeking for the reason of charm ? — it is there. There were better sense in the sad mechanic exercise of determining the reason of its absence where it is not. In the novels of the last hundred years tJiere are vast numbers of young ladies with whom it migJit be a pleasure to fall in love ; there are at least five with whom, as it seems to me, no man of taste and spirit can help doing so. Their names are, in chronological order, Elizabeth Bennet, Diana Vernon, Argemone Lavington, Beatrix Esmond, and Barbara Grant. I shoidd have been most in love with Beatrix and Argemone ; I should, I think, for mere occasional companionship, have preferred Diana and Barbara. But to live with and to marry, I do not know that any one of the four can come into competition with ElizabetJi. GEORGE SAINTSBUKY. &**• lustration^. Frontispiece . Title-page . Dedication . Heading to Preface Heading to List of Illustrations Heading to Chapter I. . " He came down to see the place " Mr. and Mrs. Bennet . " I hope Mr. Bingley will like it" . "I'm the tallest" . . . . . . . "He rode a black horse" " When the party entered " . " She is tolerable " Heading to Chapter IV. Heading to Chapter V. . " Without once opening his lips " . Tailpiece to Chapter V. Heading to Chapter VI. " The entreaties of several " . " A note for Miss Bennet " . " Cheerful prognostics " " The apothecary came " " Covering a screen " PAGE iv v vii ix xxv I 2 5 6 9 10 12 15 18 22 24 26 27 31 36 40 43 45 XXVI LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. ' ' Mrs. Bennet and her two youngest girls " . Heading to Chapter X. . " No, no ; stay where you are :' . . " Piling up the fire" ........ Heading to Chapter XII. ....... Heading to Chapter XIII. ....... Heading to Chapter XIV. ....... ' ' Protested that he never read novels " . Heading to Chapter XV. ...... Heading to Chapter XVI. ....... " The officers of the shire5' ...... " Delighted to see their dear friend again " . Heading to Chapter XVIII " Such very superior dancing is not often seen "... " To assure you in the most animated language " . Heading to Chapter XX. . . ... " They entered the breakfast-room "..... Heading to Chapter XXI. ...... " Walked back with them " Heading to Chapter XXII. ....... ' ' So much love and eloquence "...... " Protested he must be entirely mistaken " ' ' Whenever she spoke in a low voice " . Heading to Chapter XXIV. . Heading to Chapter XXV. ....... " Offended two or three young ladies " . " Will you come and see me ?" ...... ' ' On the stairs " "At the door" " In conversation with the ladies " . " Lady Catherine," said she, " you have given me a treasure " Heading to Chapter XXX. ....... " He never failed to inform them " ..... " The gentlemen accompanied him " . Heading to Chapter XXXI Heading to Chapter XXXII. "Accompanied by their aunt " ...... " On looking up ". ........ Heading to Chapter XXXIV " Hearing herself called " ....... Heading to Chapter XXXVI " Meeting accidentally in town "...... " His parting obeisance " ....... PAGE 53 60 67 69 75 78 84 87 89 95 97 1 08 "3 118 132 139 146 148 154 156 161 1 66 1 68 175 177 181 189 194 198 200 209 211 213 215 221 225 228 235 243 253 256 26l LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. xxvii PAGE "Dawson" ... . . 263 " The elevation of his feelings ;' . ..... 267 " They had forgotten to leave any message :: ..... 270 " How nicely we are crammed in !" ...... 272 Heading to Chapter XL. ... .... 278 " I am determined never to speak of it again " 283 " When Colonel Miller's regiment went away '' .... 285 " Tenderly flirting " ..... ... 290 The arrival of the Gardiners ........ 294 " Conjecturing as to the date " ..... 301 Heading to Chapter XLIV . 318 " To make herself agreeable to all " . . 321 " Engaged by the river " ........ 327 Heading to Chapter XLVI. ..... . 334 " I have not an instant to lose" .... . . 339 " The first pleasing earnest of their welcome " .... 345 The Post 359 "To whom I have related the affair" ...... 363 Heading to Chapter XLIX . . 368 " But perhaps you would like to read it " . . . . . 370 " The spiteful old ladies " . 377 " With an affectionate smile " .... . 385 ' ' I am sure she did not listen " . . . . . . 393 " Mr. Darcy with him " ........ 404 " Jane happened to look round " ... . . 415 "Mrs. Long and her nieces " ....... 420 " Lizzy, my dear, I want to speak to you "..... 422 Heading to Chapter LVI . .431 "After a short survey " . 434 " But now it comes out ;' . . . . . . . . 442 " The efforts of his aunt " .... . - 44§ " Unable to utter a syllable " ...*... 457 " The obsequious civility " ........ 466 Heading to Chapter LXI 472 The End ........... 476 L • mi > i ; :P '* III : is a truth uni- versal Iv acknow- j ledged, 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 enter- ing a neighbourhood, this ^j ^j 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, l% have you heard that Xetherfield Park is let at last?" B PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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. " 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." 3& Came dowr> *fo Jep TV}? />/ace [Copyright 1894 by George Allen.'] This was invitation enough. o " 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." PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 3 " 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 fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as he comes." " 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 neighbourhood." " 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 4 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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 not a bit better than the others : and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so good-humoured 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 ignorant 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 respect 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 neighbourhood." " 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 parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 5 make his wife understand his character. Her mind was less difficult to develope. She was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented, she fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her daughters married : its solace was visiting and news. - — I {Copyright 1891 by George Allen.] Jf Acre JW £<-n#rey cuifT fi£e \Copyright 1894 by George Allen.\ CHAPTER II. . BENNET was among the ear- liest 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 evening after the visit was paid she had no know- ledge 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. Bingley likes," said her mother, resentfully, " since we are not to visit." PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 7 " 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, hypo- critical woman, and I have no opinion of her." "No more have I," said Mr. Bennet ; "and I am glad to find that you do not depend on her serving you." 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," replied 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 impos- sible 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 lier" " Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, when I am not acquainted with him myself; how can you be so teasing ? " " I honour your circumspection. A fortnight's acquaint- ance is certainly very little. One cannot know what a man really is by the end of a fortnight. But if we do not venture, somebody else will ; and after all, Mrs. Long and her nieces must stand their chance ; and, therefore, 8 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. as she will think it an act of kindness, if you decline the office, I will take it on myself." The girls stared at their father. Mrs. Bennet said only, " Nonsense, nonsense ! " " What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclama- tion ? " cried he. " Do you consider the forms of intro- duction, 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 continued, t( let us return to Mr. Bingley." " I am sick of Mr. Bingley," cried his wife. " I am sorry to hear that; but why did you not 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 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. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 9 " 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 acquaintances 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 conjecturing how soon he would return Mr. Bennet's visit, and determining when they should ask him to dinner. ' ;< V? ^ / . '•& YC& a 6(a.ik ficrje' CHAPTER III. OT all that Mrs. Bennet, how- ever, 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 attacked him in various ways, with barefaced questions, ingenious suppositions, and distant surmises ; but he eluded the skill of them all ; and they were at PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. II last obliged to accept the second-hand intelligence of their neighbour, Lady Lucas. Her report was highly favourable. Sir William had been delighted with him. He was quite young, wonderfully handsome, extremely agreeable, 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 wras a cer- tain 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 married, I shall have nothing to wish for." In a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Bennet'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 ascertain- ing, 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 housekeeping, 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 honour 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 Netherfield as he ought to be. Lady Lucas quieted her fears a little by starting the idea of his 12 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. being gone to London only to get a large party for the ball ; and a report soon followed that Mr. Bingley was [Copyright 1894. by George AU to bring twelve ladies and seven gentlemen with him to the assembly. The girls grieved over such a number of PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 13 ladies ; but were comforted the day before the ball by hearing that, instead of twelve, 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 altogether : Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the eldest, and another young man. Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike : 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 features, 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 even- ing, till his 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 save him from having a most forbidding, disagreeable 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 angry that the ball closed so early, and talked of giving one himself at Netherfield. Such amiable qualities must speak for themselves. What a contrast between him and his friend ! Mr. Darcy danced only once with Mrs. Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being introduced to 14 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. an}' other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in walk- ing 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 every- body hoped that he would never come there again. Amongst the most violent against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of his general behaviour 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 conversation between him and Mr. Bingley. who came from the dance for a few minutes to o J ' press his friend to join it. " Come, Darcy," said he, " I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself 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 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 honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this even- ing ; 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 ! PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. I 5 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 partner to introduce you." " Which do you mean ? " and turning round, he looked "JXe i.\ "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 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 25 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 acquaintance. With tJiem he is remarkably agreeable." " 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 ; everybody 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." " Another time, Lizzy," said her mother, " I would not dance with him, if I were you." " I believe, ma'am, I may safely promise you never to dance with him." " His pride," said Miss Lucas, " does not offend 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 favour, 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. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often 26 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of our- selves ; 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 should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine everv day." * * " Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought," said Airs. 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 argument ended only with the visit. CHAPTER VI. HE ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. The visit was re- turned 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 tlieui was expressed towards the two eldest. By Jane this attention was received with the greatest pleasure ; but Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in their treatment of everybody, hardly excepting even her sister, and could not like them ; though their 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 evident, 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 wav to be verv 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 and an uniform cheerfulness of manner, which would guard 28 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. her from the suspicions of the impertinent. She men- tioned this to her friend, Miss Lucas. " It may, perhaps, be pleasant," replied Charlotte, " to be 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 affection 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 encouragement. 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 /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 endeavour to conceal it, he must find it out." " 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 employed in conversing together. Jane should therefore 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." PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 29 " 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 feelings ; 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 dances 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 even- ings may do a great deal." " 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 charac- teristic, 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 th^ least They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards 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." 3O PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. " 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 attention 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 admira- tion at the ball ; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no sooner had he made it clear to himself 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 ex- pression 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 acknowledge her figure to be light and pleasing ; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those of the fashion- able 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, attended 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 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 31 satirical eye, and if I do not begin by being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of him." 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 e tvf r«--''f t j of SQVera\ " \.^*>pjriglit < i,i\i>\^e Allen. him, which immediately provoking Elizabeth to do it, she turned to him and said,- ' Did not you think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed 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 ladv energetic." -• * * — always wanting me to play and sing before anybody and every bod\* ! If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have been invaluable ; 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 Miss 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 even-body here is of course familiar with — ' Keep your breath to cool your porridge,'- -and I shall keep mine to swell my song." 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 accomplishments, was always impatient for display. Mary had neither genius nor taste ; and though vanity had given her application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she had reached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected, had been listened to with much more pleasure, though not piaying half so well ; and Mar}-, 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 sisters, who with some of the Lucases, and two or three officers, joined eagerly in dancing at one end of the room. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 33 Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at such a mode of passing the evening, to the exclusion of all convers ation, and was too much engrossed by his own thoughts to perceive that Sir William Lucas was hi;> neighbour, till Sir William thus began : — " What a charming amusement for young people thi> is, Mr. Darcy ! There is nothing like dancing, after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished societies." " Certainly, sir ; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world : even* savage can dance." Sir William" only smiled. " Your friend performs 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 Mervton. I believe, sir." J '' 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 compliment 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. Darcv bowed. j '• 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 companion was not disposed to make any; and Elizabeth at that instant moving towards them, he was struck with the D 34 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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 un- willing 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 honour 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 inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance ; for who would object to such a partner ? " 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 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 35 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 medi- tating 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 Bingley. " I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite ? and pray when am I to wish you joy ? " " That is exactly the question which I expected 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 charm- ing 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. I \ v^: • ft - " mm ifjSe m . & • -. \ [Cofyright i&i. CHAPTER VII. R. BEXXET'S propert\* con- sisted almost entirely in an j estate of two thousand a year, which, unfortunately 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 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 37 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 their sisters', and when nothing better offered, a walk to Meryton was necessary to amuse their morning hours and furnish conversation for the 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 neighbourhood ; it was to remain the whole winter, and Meryton was the head-quarters. Their visits to Mrs. Philips were now productive of the most interesting intelligence. Every day added some- thing 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 animation to their mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of an ensign. 38 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Mr. Bennet coolly observed, — " From all that I can collect by your manner of talk- ing, 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 answer ; but Lydia, with perfect indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Carter, and her hope of seeing him in the course of the day, as he was going the next morning to London. " I am astonished, my dear," said Mrs. Bennet, " that you should be so read}- to think your own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly of anybody's children, it should not be of my own, however." ''If my children are sill};, I must hope to be always sensible of it." " Yes ; but as it happens, the}' 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. \Yhen the}- get to our age, I dare say they will not think about officers an}- 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." PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 39 " Mamma," cried Lydia, " my aunt says that Colonel Forster and Captain Carter do not go so often to Miss Watson's as they did when they first came ; 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 servant waited for an answer. Mrs. Bennet's eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she was eagerly calling 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 ; make haste, my love." " It is from Miss Bingley," said Jane, and then read it aloud. " My dear friend, " If you are not so compassionate 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 tcte-a-tcte 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, because it seems likely to rain ; and then you must stay all night." " That would be a good scheme," said Elizabeth, " if you were sure that they would not offer to send her home." 40 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. " Oh, but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley'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 Elizabeth, " my mother's purpose will be answered." PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 41 She did at last extort from her father an acknowledg- ment that the horses were engaged ; Jane was therefore obliged to go on horseback, and her mother attended her to the door with many cheerful 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 morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from Nether- field brought the following note for Elizabeth :— " My dearest 'Lizzie, " I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I sup- pose, is to be imputed to my getting wet through yester- day. 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." 44 Oh. I am not at all afraid of her dying. People do 42 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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 ! 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, " 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 company, 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 repaired 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 ancles, dirty stockings, and a face glowing with the warmth of exercise. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 43 She was shown into the breakfast parlour, where all but Jane were assembled, and where her appearance 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 almost 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 good- humour and kindness. Mr. Darcy said very little, and Mr. Hurst nothing at all. The former was divided between admiration of the brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion and doubt as to the occasion's justifying her coming so far alone. The latter was thinking only of his breakfast. Her inquiries after her sister were not very favourably 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 inconvenience, from expressing in her note how much she longed for such a visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was not equal, however, to much conver- sation ; 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. When breakfast was over, they were joined by the sisters ; and Elizabeth began to like them herself, when she saw how much affection and solicitude 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 endeavour to 44 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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 gentle- men being out, they had in fact nothing to do else- where. 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 Netherfield for the present. Elizabeth most thankfully con- sented, and a servant was despatched to Longbourn, to acquaint the family with her stay, and bring back a supply of clothes. 'couerin9 a. screen' CHAPTER VIII. T five o'clock the two ladies re- tired 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 distinguishing the much superior solicitude of Mr. Bingley, she could not make a very favourable answer. 46 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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 matter : and their indiffe- rence 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 complacency. 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, by whom Eliza- beth 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 ! " PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 47 " Yes, and her petticoat ; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches 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." " 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 ancles 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 indifference 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 adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes." " Not at all," he replied : " they were brightened 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 ? 48 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. " Yes ; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside." " That is capital," added her sister ; and they both laughed heartily. " If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside," 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. \Yith a renewal of tenderness, however, they repaired to her room on leaving the dining-parlour, 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 down stairs herself. On entering the draw- ing-room, she found the whole party at loo, and was imme- diately 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." " Miss Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, " despises cards. She is a great reader, and has no pleasure in anything else." " I deserve neither such praise nor such censure," cried PKi'DE AXD PREJUDICE. 49 Elizabeth ; " I am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in man)T 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 Ivinsf. He j o 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 fellow; and though I have not man}*, I have more than I ever looked into." Elizabeth assured him that she could suit herself 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 \vork of many generations." " And then you have added so much to it yourself — you are always buying books." " I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these." " 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 mav." j " But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that neighbourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a finer county in England than 'Derbyshire." E 5O PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. "With all my heart: I will buy Pemberley itself, 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 imita- tion." 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. Bingley 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 Elizabeth Bennet's height, or rather taller." " How I long to see her again ! I never met with any- body who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners, and so extremely accomplished for her age ! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite." " It is amazing to me," said Bingley, " how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished 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 accomplishments," 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" PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 51 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 compre- hend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished 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 music, singing, draw- ing, 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 substantial in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading." " I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing a)iy" " Are you so severe upon your own sex as to doubt the possibility of all this ? " " / never saw such a woman. / never saw such capa- city, and taste, and application, and elegance, as you describe, united." Mrs. I hirst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the injustice of her implied doubt, and were both pro- testing that the\- knew man}' women who answered this "description, when Mr. Hurst called them to order, with 52 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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 other sex by undervaluing their own ; and with many men, I daresay, 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, " 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, recommended 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 wretchedness, however, by duets after supper ; while he could find no better relief to his feelings than by giving his housekeeper directions that even- possible attention might be paid to the sick ladv and her sister. [Copyright 1894 by George Allen.} CHAPTER IX. 'LIZABETH 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 inquiries which she very early received from Mr. Bingley by a housemaid, and some time after- ^ wards from the two elegant ladies who waited on his sisters. In spite of this amendment, : [ FRIPE AND rRETUPICE. however, she requested to have a note sent to Long- bourn, desiring her mother to visit Jane, and form her own judgment of her situation. The note was immedi- ately despatched, and i;s c ^.itents as quickly complied with. Mrs. Bonnet, accompanied by her two youngest girls, reached Netherfield soon after the family breakfast. Had she found Jane in any apparent danger. Mrs. Bonnet would have been very miserable; but be:"_ satisfied on seeing her that her illness was not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately, as her res; ration 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 advisable. After sitting a little while with Jane, on Miss Bingiey's appearance and invitation, the mother and three daughters all attended her into the breakfast .lour. Binglcy met them with hopes that Mrs. Bonnet had not found Miss Bonnet 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. \Ye must trespass a little longer n votir kindness." m 11 Removed ! " cried Binqlev. " It must not be thought *z» - *j 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 even- possible attention while she remains with us." Mrs. Bonnet was profuse in her acknowledgments. " I am sure." she added. 'v if it was not for such good friends. I do not know what would become of her. for she is very ill indeed, and sutlers a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which is always PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 55 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 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 minutes. 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, immedi- ately, " that you were a studier of character. 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 neigh- bourhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society." :•; PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. " But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever." o " Ye?, indeed." cried Mrs. Bennet. offended by his manner of mentioning a count:-.- neighbourhood. %- I - - — are you there is quite as much of tJiat going on in the countrv as in town." d Even-body was surprised : and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment, turned silently away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had gained a complete victory over him, continued her triumph, — • I cannot see that London has any great advantage :r the country, for my part, except the shops and : places. The country is a vast deal pleasanter, is not it, Mr. Bingley?" " When I am in the country," he replied, " I never . -h 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 disposition. 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 a : knowledge to be true.'' Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were : but as to not meeting with many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few neighbourhoods larger. I know o o we dine with four-and-twenty famil: Xothir.j but concern for Elizabeth could enable B::t;;'ey t keep his countenance. His sister was I delicate, and directed her eye towards Mr. Darcy with a PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 57 very expressive smile. Elizabeth, for the sake of saying something that mi^ht turn her mothers thoughts, now o o o 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 alwavs something to sav to evervbodv. 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 ? " " Xo, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince-pies. For my part, Mr. Bingley, / always keep sen-ants that can do their own work : my daughters are brought up differently. But even-body 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! Xot that /think Charlotte so :. _ 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 beaut}-. I do not like to boast of my own chi. I but to be sure. Jane — one does not often see anybody better looking. It is what evervbodv savs. I do not J 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 X'etherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked ; and Miss Bingley was uncivil to hci\ and more teasing than usual to himself. He wisely re- solved to be particularly careful that no sign of admira- tion should noi'c escape him — nothing that could elevate her with the hope of influencing his felicity ; sensible that, if such an idea had been suggested, his behaviour during the last dav must have material weight in con- O » O firming 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 half an hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 77 On Sunday, after morning service, the separation, 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 Xetherfield, 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 O " 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 thread- bare morality to listen to. Catherine and Lydia had information for them of a different sort. Much had been done, and much had been said in the regiment since the preceding Wednesday ; 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. M& CHAPTER XIII HOPE, my dear," said Mr. Bennet to his wife, as they were at break- fast 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 nobody 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 extremely 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." This roused a general astonishment ; and he had the PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 79 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 favour of a man whom nobody cared anything about. " It certainly is a most iniquitous affair," said Mr. Bennet ; " and nothing can clear Mr. Collins from the o guilt of inheriting Longbourn. But if 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 hypo- critical. 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." SO PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. " Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent, 15/7^ October. " Dear Sir, " The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father always gave me much uneasi- ness ; 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, fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with anyone with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance."- — There, Mrs. Bennet.' — " My mind, however, is now made up on the subject ; for, having received ordination at Easter, I have been so for- tunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable 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 endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards her Ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies 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 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 overlooked 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 here- after. If you should have no objection to receive me into PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 8 1 your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday, November iSth, by four o'clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospi- tality till the Saturday se'n-night 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 com- pliments 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 acquaintance, 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 in what way he can mean to make us the atonement he thinks our due, the wish is certainly to his credit." Elizabeth was chiefly struck with his extraordinary 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 G 82 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. finding him quite the reverse. There is a mixture of ser- vility 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 were 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 colour. As for their mother, Mr. Collins's letter had done away much of her ill-will, 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 en- couragement, 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 com- plimented 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 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 83 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 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 forward 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 pro- perty. 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 continued to apologize for about a quarter of an hour. CHA¥ ER-XIV IURING 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 expected him to shine, by observing that he seemed very fortunate in his patroness. Lady Catherine de Bourgh's attention to his wishes, and consideration 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 protested that he had never in his life witnessed such behaviour in a person of rank — such affability and condescension, as he had himself expe- rienced from Lady Catherine. She had been graciously pleased to approve of both the discourses which he had already had the honour 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 any- thing 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 neighbourhood, nor to his leaving his parish occasionally PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 85 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 ? " " The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane from Rosings Park, her Lady- ship'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, " 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 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 making that progress in many accomplishments which she could not otherwise have failed of, as I am informed by the lady who superintended her education, 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." 86 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. " 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 deprived the British Court of its brightest ornament. Her Ladyship seemed pleased with the idea ; and you may imagine that I am happy on every occasion to offer those little delicate compliments 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 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 flattering with delicacy. May I ask whether these pleasing atten- tions 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 compliments 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, maintaining at the same time the most resolute composure 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 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. Mr. Bennet was glad to take his guest into the drawing- room again, and when tea was over, glad to invite him r\?r\ever reacC 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) PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. he started back, and, begging pardon, protested that he never read novels. Kitty stared at him, and Lydia exclaimed. Other books were produced, and after some deliberation 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 advantageous 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 daughters apologized most civilly for Lydia's interruption, 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 behaviour as any affront, seated himself at another table with Mr. Bennet, and prepared for backgammon. CHAPTER XV. . COLLINS was not a sensible man, and the deficiency 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 illiterate and miserly father ; and though he belonged to one of the uni- versities, 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 patroness, 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 . reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had a wife in view, as he 90 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. meant to choose one of the daughters, if he found them as handsome and amiable as they were represented by common report. This was his plan of amends — of atonement — for inheriting their father's estate ; and he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility and suitable- ness, and excessively generous and disinterested on his own part. His plan did not vary on seeing them. Miss Bennet's lovely face confirmed his views, and established 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 of his hopes, that a mistress for it might be found at Longbourn, produced 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 could not take upon her to say — she could not positively answer — but she did not knoiv 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 Jane to Elizabeth -and it was soon done — done while Mrs. Bennet was stirring the fire. Elizabeth, equally next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded 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 for- PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 9 1 gotten : 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 collection, but really talking to Mr. Bennet, with little cessation, of his house and garden at Huns- ford. Such doings discomposed Mr. Bennet exceedingly In his library he had been always sure of leisure and tranquillity ; and though prepared, 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. Collins, being in fact much better fitted for a walker than a reader, was extremely well pleased to close his large book, and go. In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents 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 by him. Their eyes were imme- diately wandering up 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 92 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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 gentlemen, 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 regimentals to make him completely charm- ing. His appearance was greatly in his favour : he had all the best parts of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation — a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming ; and the whole party were still standing and talking together 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 civilities. 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 Elizabeth happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed colour, 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 ? PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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. 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 parlour 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 expressing 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 introduction 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 flattering himself, however, might be justified by his relationship to the young ladies who introduced 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 what they already knew, that Mr. Denny had brought him from London, and that he was to have a lieutenant's com- 94 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. mission 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 certainly have continued the occupation ; but unluckily no one passed the windows now except a few of the officers, who, in comparison with the stranger, were become " stupid, disagreeable fellows." 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 evening. This was agreed to ; and Mrs. Philips protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards. 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 gentlemen ; but though Jane would have defended either or both, had they ap- peared to be wrong, she could no more explain such behaviour than her sister. Mr. Collins on his return highly gratified Mrs. Bennet by admiring Mrs. Philips's manners and politeness. He protested that, except Lady Catherine and her daughter, he had never seen a more elegant woman ; for she had not only received him with the utmost civility, but had even pointedly included him in her invitation for the next evening, 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. 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 con- veyed 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 96 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. accepted their uncle's invitation, and was then in the house. When this information was given, and they had all I ..:en their seats. Air. Collins was at leisure to look around him and admire, and he was so much struck with the size and furniture of the apartment, that he declared he might almost have supposed hiir.-v.r~ in the small summer bre:. :: .~t parlour at Rosings ; a comparison that did not at first convey 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 onlv one of Ladv Catherine's drawing-rooms, and found . » that the chimney-piece alone had cost eight hundred pounds, she felt all the force of the compliment, and would hardly have resented a comparison with the . :>usekeepers room. In describing to her all the grandeur of Ladv Catherine J and her mansion, with occasional digressions 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 atten- tive listener, whose opinion of his consequence increased :h what she heard, and who was resolving to retail it . among her neighbours 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 instrument, and examine their own indifferent imitations of china on the mantel- piece, 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 :-.-. that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thir. '.-:::-. :~ of him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. The officers of the shire PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 97 were in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike set and the best of them were of the present party ; but Mr, Wickham was as far beyond them all in person, counte- nance, air, and walk, as tJicy were superior to the broad- . -- V".] faced stuffs- uncle Philips, breathing port wine, who followed them into the room. Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost ever\- female eye was turned, and Elizabeth was n 98 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. the happy woman by whom he finally seated himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, and on the probability of a rainy season, made her feel that the commonest, 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 intervals 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 oppor- tunity of obliging her, in return, by sitting down to wrhist. " I know little of the game at present," said he, " 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 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 anyone in particular. Allowing for the common demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was therefore at leisure to talk to Elizabeth, 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, how- PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 99 ever, was unexpectedly relieved. Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton ; and, after receiving her answer, asked in a hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there. " About a month," 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 capable 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 such an assertion, after seeing, as you probably 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 Elizabeth, 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 believe your opinion of him would in general astonish — 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 neighbourhood, except Netherfield. He is not at all liked in Hertfordshire. Everybody is IOO PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. disgusted with his pride. You will not find him more favourably spoken of by anyone." " 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 ///;;/ I believe it does not often happen. The world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen." " I should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be an ill-tempered man." Wickham only shook his head. " I wonder," said he, at the next opportunity of speaking, " whether he is likely to be in this country much longer." " I do not at all know ; but I Jieard nothing of his going away when I was at Netherfield. I hope your plans in favour of the shire will not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood." " 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 liiui but what I might proclaim 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 recollections. His behaviour to myself has been scandalous ; but I verily believe I could for- give him anything and everything, rather than his dis- appointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his father." PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. IOI Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, 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 neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that he had yet seen, and speak- ing of the latter, especially, with gentle but very intelli- gible 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 respect- able, agreeable corps ; and my friend Denny tempted me further by his account of their present quarters, and the very great attentions and excellent acquaintance Meryton had procured 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 circum- stances have now made it eligible. The church ought to have been my profession — I was brought up for the church; and I should at this time have been in posses- sion 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 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 disregarded ? Why did not you seek legal redress ? " IO2 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. " There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope from law. A man of honour 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 myself of having really done anything to deserve to lose it. I have a warm unguarded temper, and I may perhaps have some- times 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 /«';//." Elizabeth honoured him for such feelings, and thought him handsomer than ever as he expressed them. " But what," said she, after a pause, " can have been his motive? what can have induced him to behave so cruelly ? " " A thorough, determined dislike of me — a dislike which 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 his father's uncommon attach- ment to me irritated him, I believe, very early in life. He had not a temper to bear the sort of competition in which we stood — the sort of preference which was often given me." PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 103 " I 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 descend- ing to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such in- humanity as this ! " After a few minutes' reflection, however, she continued, " I do remember his boasting one day, at Netherfield, of the implacability of his resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. His disposition must be dreadful." " I will not trust myself on the subject," replied Wick- ham ; " / can hardly be just to him." Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, " To treat in such a manner the godson, the friend, the favourite of his father ! ' She could have added, " A young man, too, like you, whose very coun- tenance may vouch for your being amiable." But she contented herself with — " And one, too, who had pro- bably been his own companion from childhood, connected together, as I think you said, in the closest manner." " We were born in the same parish, within the same park ; the greatest part of our youth was passed together: inmates of the same house, sharing the same amusements, objects of the same parental care. My father began life in the profession which your uncle, Mr. Philips, appears to 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 superintendence ; and when, immediately before my father's death, Mr. Darcy gave him a voluntary promise 104 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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 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 almost all his actions may be traced to pride ; and pride has often been his best friend. It has connected him nearer with virtue than any other feeling. But we are none of us consistent ; and in his behaviour to me there were stronger impulses even than pride." " Can such abominable pride as his have ever done him good ? ' u 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 brother/}' 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 girl 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, — 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 amuse- PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 105 ment. But she is nothing to me now. She is a hand- some 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 super- intends 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-humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable, 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 con- versible 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, honourable, and, perhaps, agreeable, — allowing something for fortune and figure." 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 106 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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 shillings 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 observ- ing 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 Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy were sisters ; consequently 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 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. IO/ that he has related of her Ladyship, I suspect his grati- tude misleads him; and that, in spite of her being his patroness, she is an arrogant, 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 believe she derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune, part from her authoritative manner, and the rest from the pride of her nephew, who chooses that everyone connected with him should have an understanding of the first class." Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very rational 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 be 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, clone gracefully. 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 were once silent. Lydia talked inces- santly 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 supper, and repeatedly fearing that he crowded his cousins, had more to say than he could well manage before the carriage stopped at Longbourn House. /f n't I v j w - To /ee Tneiv C/PQ>- jriencfaoai'-n' CHAPTER XVII. LIZABETH 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 endured 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 otherwise explained. TRIBE AND PREJUDICE. " 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 circumstances which may have alienated them, without actual blame on either side." "Very true, indeed; and now, my dear Jane, what have you got to say in behalf of the interested 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 favourite 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 imposed on, I 10 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. would have much to suffer when the affair became public. The two young ladies were summoned from the 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 Nether- field, which was fixed for the following Tuesday. The two ladies were delighted 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 possible, 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 extremely agreeable to every female of the family. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as given in compliment to her eldest daughter, and was particularly flattered by re- ceiving 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. Wickham, and of seeing a confirmation of everything in Mr. Darcy's look and behaviour. The happiness anticipated by Catherine and Lydia depended less on any single event, or any particular person ; for though they each, like Elizabeth, meant to dance half the evening with Mr. YVickham, he was by no means the only partner who PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. Ill 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 occasion- ally in evening engagements. Society has claims on us all ; and I profess myself one of those who consider in- tervals 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 invitation, 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 Archbishop 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 objecting to dancing myself, that I shall hope to be honoured with the hands of all my fair cousins in the course of the evening; and I take this opportunity 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 instead ! — her liveliness had been never worse timed. There was no 112 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. help for it, however. Mr. Wickham's happiness and her own was 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 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 conviction, 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 effect 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 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 prepare 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 succes- sion of rain as prevented 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 Tuesday could have made such a Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday endurable to Kitty and Lydia. «x) CO -Lr,' ^- rniii^lr3; ; & .' - v\ •" \~w CHAPTER XVIII. ILL Elizabeth entered the drawing- room at Netherfield, 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 un- subdued of his heart, trusting that it was not more than might be won in the course of the evening. But in an I 114 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. instant arose the dreadful suspicion of his being purposely omitted, for Mr. Darcy's pleasure, in the Bingleys' invita- tion to the officers ; and though this was not exactly the case, the absolute fact of his absence was pronounced 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." This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught by Elizabeth ; and, as it assured 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 disappointment, 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, was injury to Wickham. She was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned away with a degree of ill-humour which she could not wholly surmount even in speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind partiality provoked her. But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour ; and though every prospect of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long on her spirits ; and, hav- ing told all her griefs to Charlotte Lucas, whom she had not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a volun- tary 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, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 115 apologizing instead of attending, 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 can give. The moment of her release from him was ecstasy. She danced next with an officer, and had the refresh- ment 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 herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy, who took her so much by surprise in his applica- tion for her hand, that, without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence 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 un- pleasant in the eyes of a man often 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 neighbours' looks their equal amazement in beholding it. They stood for some time without speaking a word ; and she began to imagine that their silence was to last 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, Il6 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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. / 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 gratifying mine ? " " 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 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. I I/ 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 herself for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy spoke, and in a con- strained manner said,- " Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may insure his making- friends ; whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain." " He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," 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 chang- ing the subject. At that moment Sir William 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), shall take place. What congratulations \vill 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." 11$ PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy ; but Sir William's allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forciblv, and his eves were directed, with a - r r ~f ~ ~r » f Juc.% very JV0frioT" airnrrng IS n often seen." i^"/;/ icject, calling on Miss Lucas for her compassion, and entreating her to persuade her friend Lizzy to comply wi h the wishes of her family. " Pray do, my dear Miss 144 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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 of Jane and Elizabeth. " Ay, there she comes," continued Mrs. Bennet, " look- ing 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. / shall not be able to keep you- and so I warn you. I have done with you from this very da}-. 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. Xot 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 talking. Xobody 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 effusion, sensible that any attempt to reason with or soothe her would only increase the irritation. She talked on, there- fore, 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. 145 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 pretending 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 behaviour of your daughter. Resignation to inevitable 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 honoured 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 estimation. You will not, I hope, con- sider me as showing any disrespect to your family, my dear madam, by thus withdrawing my pretensions to your daughter's favour, without having paid yourself and Mr. Bennet the compliment of requesting you to interpose your authority in my behalf. My conduct 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 companion for myself, with due consideration for the ad- vantage of all your family ; and if my manner has been at all reprehensible, I here beg leave to apologize." L •.•^ "& ' '*$* fes CHAPTER XXI. discussion of Mr. Collins's offer was now nearly at an end, and r Elizabeth had only to suffer from ^ the uncomfortable feelings neces- sarily attending it, and occasionally from some peeyish allusion of her mother. As for the gentleman himself, Jiis feelings were chiefly expressed, not by embarrassment or dejection, or I'KIDK AM) 1'KKJUDICE. 147 by trying to avoid her, but by stiffness of manner and resentful silence. He scarcely ever spoke to her ; and the assiduous attentions 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 humour or ill health. Mr. Collins was also in the same state of angry pride. Elizabeth had hoped that lu's 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 lament over his absence from the Netherficld ball. He joined them on their entering the to\vn, and attended them to their aunt's, where his regret and vexation and the concern of every- body were well talked over. To Elizabeth, however, he voluntarily acknowledged that the necessity of his absence Jiad 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 commen- dations 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 accompanying them was a double advan- tage : she felt all the compliment it offered to herself; 148 PRII>K AM; PRKJUI'I and it was most acceptable as an occa of introducing him to her father and mother. Soon after their return, a letter was delivered to Mi.s.s Bennet ; it came from Xetherfield, 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 com* \Cofyright 1854 by Georgt Allen.} nance change as 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 dr 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. \Vhen they had gained their own room, Jane, taking out her letter, said, "This is from Caroline Bingley: what it PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 149 contains has surprised me a good deal. The whole part\- have left Xetherfield by this time, and are on their wav to town ; and without any intention of coming back - f d> again. You shall hear what she says." She then read the first sentence aloud, which comprised the information of their having just resolved to follow •^ • their brother to town direct!}', 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 returns 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 tor that.' To these high-flown expressions Elizabeth listened with all the insensibility of distrust ; and though the suddenness of their removal surprised her, she saw nothing in it really to lament : it was not to be supposed that their absence from Xetherfield would prevent Mr. Binglev's being there ; and as to the loss of their societv, *• ' — V_* » she was persuaded that Jane must soon cease to regard it in the enjoyment of his. "It is unlucky." said she, after a short pause, "that vou should not be able to see vour friends before thev * * * leave the country. But may we not hope that the period of future happiness, to which Miss Bingley looks forward, max* arrive earlier than she is aware, and that the delightful intercourse you have known as friends will be renewed with vet greater satisfaction as sisters? Mr. V* Bingley will not be detained in London by them." " Caroline decidedly says that none of the party will return into 1 lertfordshire this winter. I will read it to vou. 150 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. " ' When my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that the business which took him to London might be concluded 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 gaieties 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 particularly hurts me. I will have no reserves from you. ' Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister ; and to confess 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 heightened into something still J O O 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 con- fiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 151 unreasonable. My brother admires her greatly already ; 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 partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most capable of engaging any woman's heart. With all these circumstances to favour 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 ? ' 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 152 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. the more anxious to get Miss Darcy for her brother, from the notion that when there has been one inter- marriage, she may have less trouble in achieving a second ; in which there is certainly some ingenuity, and I dare say it would succeed if Miss de Bourgh were out of the way. But, my dearest Jane, you cannot 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.'3 " 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 deceiving anyone ; 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 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." PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 153 " 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 everyone. She represented to her sister, as forcibly as possible, what she felt on the subject, and had soon the pleasure of seeing its happy effect. Jane's temper was not de- sponding ; and she was gradually led to hope, though the diffidence of affection sometimes overcame the hope, that Bingley wrould 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 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 exceedingly 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 comfort- able declaration, that, though he had been invited only to a family dinner, she would take care to have two full courses. CHAPTER XXII. 'HE 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 humour," said she, " 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 amiable; 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 favourable, that when they parted at night, she would have felt al- most sure of success if he had not been to leave Hert- fordshire so very soon. But here she did injustice to the fire and independence of his character ; for it led him to escape out of Longbourn House the next morning with PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 155 admirable slyness, and hasten to Lucas Lodge to throw himself at her feet. He was anxious to avoid the notice of 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 accidentally 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. Collins's long speeches would allow, everything was settled between them to the satis- faction 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 favoured by nature must guard his courtship from any charm that could make a woman wish for its con- tinuance ; and Miss Lucas, who accepted 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 applied to for their consent ; and it was bestowed with a most joy- ful alacrity. Mr. Collins's present circumstances made it a most eligible match for their daughter, to whom they could give little fortune ; and his prospects of future wealth were exceedingly fair. Lady Lucas began directly to calculate, with more interest than the matter had ever 156 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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 posses- [Copyriglit 1894 by George Allen.} sion 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 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 157 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 composed. 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 thinking1 o highly either of men or of matrimony, marriage had always been her object : it was the only honourable provision for well-educated young women of small fortune, and, however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their pleasantest preservative from want. This preservative 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 agreeable circumstance in the busi- ness 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 disappro- bation. 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 questions 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 158 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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 politeness and cordiality, said how happy they should be to see him at Longbourn again, whenever his other engagements might allow him to visit them. " My dear madam," he replied, " this invitation is par- ticularly 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 disappro- bation here, my good sir ? You had better neglect your relations than run the risk of offending your patroness." " My dear sir," replied Mr. Collins, " I am particularly obliged to you for this friendly caution, and you may depend upon my not taking so material a step without her Ladyship's concurrence." i; You cannot be too much on your guard. Risk any- thing 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 up it, you will speedily receive from me a letter of thanks for this as well as for 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." PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 159 With proper civilities, the ladies then withdrew ; all of them equally surprised to find that he meditated a quick return. Mrs. Bennet wished to understand by it that he thought of paying his addresses to one of her younger girls, and Mary might have been prevailed on to accept him. She rated his abilities much higher than anv of o » 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 encouraged to read and im- prove himself by such an example as hers, he might become a very agreeable companion. But on the follow- ing morning every hope of this kind was done away. Miss Lucas called soon after breakfast, and in a private conference with Elizabeth related the event of the dav 4 before. The possibility of Mr. Collins's fancying himself in love with her friend had once occurred to Elizabeth 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 con- sequently so great as to overcome at first the bounds of decorum, and she could not help crying out, — 14 En^a^ed to Mr. Collins ! mv dear Charlotte, im- **-* *- * possible ! " The steadv countenance which Miss Lucas had com- u manded in telling her storv q;ave wav to a momentarv V1 * O - * confusion here on receiving so direct a reproach ; ihou_ 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, because he was not -o happy as to succeed with you ? " l6o PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. But Elizabeth had now recollected herself; and, mak- ing 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, con- sidering Mr. Collins's character, connections, and situation in life, I am convinced that my chance of happiness with him 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 lonq; o time before she became at all reconciled to the idea of so unsuitable a match. The strangeness of Mr. Collins's making two offers of marriage within three days was nothing in comparison of his being now accepted. She had always felt that Charlotte's opinion 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. Charlotte, the wife of Mr. Collins, was a most humiliating picture ! And to the pang of a friend disgracing herself, and sunk in her esteem, was added the distressing conviction that it was impossible for that friend to be tolerably happy in the lot she had chosen. . fmttSilfa n? mujv PI? entirely Tn.iJTak.fn {Copyright 1894 £y George Allen.] CHAPTER XXIII. was sitting with her mother and sisters, reflecting on what she had heard, and doubting whether she was authorized to men- tion it, when Sir William Lucas himself appeared, sent by his daugh- ter to announce her engagement to the family. With many compli- ments to them, and much self-gratulation on the prospect of a connection between the houses, he unfolded the M 1 62 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. matter, — to an audience not merely wondering, but incredulous ; for Mrs. Bennet, with more perseverance than politeness, protested he must be entirely mistaken ; and Lydia, always unguarded and often uncivil, bois- terously 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. Elizabeth, feeling it incumbent on her to relieve him from so unpleasant a situation, now put herself forward to- confirm his account, by mentioning her prior know- ledge of it from Charlotte herself; and endeavoured 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 Jane, and by making a variety of remarks on the happiness that might be ex- pected 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 he left them than her feelings found a rapid vent. In the first place, she persisted 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 inferences, however, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 163 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 nothing appease her. Nor did that day wear out her resentment. A week elapsed before she could see 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. Mr. Bennet's emotions were much more tranquil on the occasion, and such as he did experience he pro- nounced to 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 surprised 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 other way than as a piece of news to spread at Meryton. Lady Lucas could not be insensible of triumph on being able to retort on Mrs. Bennet the comfort 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 subject ; and Elizabeth felt persuaded that no real confidence could 164 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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 dailv more anxious, as Binfflev had now been ^j j «j ^ 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- * o 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 neighbour, 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 argument with his amiable Charlotte to name an early day for making him the happiest of men. Mr. Collins's return into Hertfordshire was no longer a o matter of pleasure to Mrs. Bennet. On the contrary, she was as much disposed to complain of it as her husband. It was verv strange that he should come to Longbourn * o o instead of to Lucas Lodge ; it was also very inconvenient and exceedingly troublesome. She hated having visitors in the house while her health was so indifferent, and lovers were of all people the most disagreeable. Such were the gentle murmurs of Mrs. Bennet, and they gave way PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 165 only to the greater distress of Mr. Bingley's continued absence. Neither Jane nor Elizabeth were comfortable on this subject. Day after day passed away without bringing any other tidings of him than the report which shortly prevailed in Meryton of his coming no more to Nether- field 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 Bingley was indifferent — but that his sisters would be successful in keeping him away. Unwilling as she was to admit an idea so destructive to Jane's happiness, and so dishonour- able to the stability of her lover, she could not prevent its frequently recurring. The united efforts of his two un- feeling sisters, and of his overpowering friend, assisted by the attractions of Miss Darcy and the amusements of London, might be too much, she feared, for the strength of his attachment. As for Jane, Jier anxiety under this suspense was, of course, more painful than Elizabeth's : but whatever she felt she was desirous of concealing ; 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 require 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, 1 66 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. luckily for the others, the business of love-making re- lieved 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 sne spcfce in a four voice 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-humour, and wherever she went she was sure of hearing it talked of. The sight of Miss Lucas was odious to her. As her successor in that house, she PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. l6/ regarded her with jealous abhorrence. Whenever Char- lotte came to see them, she concluded her to be anticipat- ing the hour of possession ; and whenever she spoke in a low voice to Mr. Collins, was convinced that they were talking of the Longbourn estate, and resolving to turn herself and her daughters 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 / 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 / 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." " I never can be thankful, Mr. Bennet, for anything about the entail. How anyone could have the con- science 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. CHAPTER XXIV. ISS BINGLEY'S letter arrived, and put an end to doubt The very first sentence conveyed the assu- rance of their being all settled in London for the winter, and con- cluded with her brother's regret at not having had time to pay his respects to his friends in Hert- fordshire 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 attractions 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. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 169 Elizabeth, to whom Jane very soon communicated the chief of all this, heard it in silent indignation. Her heart was divided between concern for her sister and resentment against all others. To Caroline's assertion of her brother's being partial 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 with- out 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 happi- ness 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 whatever manner he thought best ; but her sister's was involved in it, as she thought he must be sensible himself. It was a sub- ject, 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 friends' interference ; whether he had been aware of Jane's attachment, or whether it had escaped his observation ; whichever 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 irritation than usual about Netherfield and its master, she could not help saying, — " O 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 I/O PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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 solici- tude, but said nothing. " You doubt me," cried Jane, slightly colouring " indeed, you have no reason. He may live in m> memory as the most amiable man of my acquaintance but that is all. I have nothing either to hope or fear and nothing to reproach him with. Thank God I hav( not that pain. A little time, therefore — I shall certainl) try to get the better- With a stronger voice she soon added, " I have thi: comfort immediately, that it has not been more than ai error of fancy on my side, and that it has done no harn to anyone but myself." " My dear Jane," exclaimed Elizabeth, " you are toe good. Your sweetness and disinterestedness are reall) angelic ; I do not know what to say to you. I feel as i I had never done you justice, or loved you as yoi deserve." Miss Bennet eagerly disclaimed all extraordinary merit and threw back the praise on her sister's warm affection. " Nay," said Elizabeth, " this is not fair. You wish tc think all the world respectable, and are hurt if I speak il of anybody. / only want to think you perfect, and yoi set yourself against it. Do not be afraid of my running into any excess, of my encroaching on your privilege o universal good-will. You need not. There are fev people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom think well. The more I see of the world the more am ] dissatisfied with it ; and every day confirms my belief o the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. \J\ of either merit or sense. I have met with two instances lately : one I will not mention, the other is Charlotte's marriage. It is unaccountable ! in every view it is unaccountable ! ' " My dear Lizzy, do not give way to such feelings 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 Char- lotte'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 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 endeavour to persuade yourself or me, that selfish- ness is prudence, and insensibility of danger 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 Lizzy, not to pain me by thinking that person 1/2 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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." " If it is designedly done, they cannot be justified ; 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 schem- ing 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 displease 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 importance of money, great con- nections, and pride." " Beyond a doubt they do wish him to choose Miss Darcy," replied Jane ; " but this may be from better PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 173 feelings than you are supposing. They 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 believed 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 unhappy. 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 repine 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 endeavoured 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 ; but though the probability of the statement 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 being married, a girl likes to PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. be crossed in love a little now and then. It is something to think of, and gives her a sort of distinction among her companions. 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 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 dis- pelling 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 already heard, his claims on Mr. Darcy, and all that he had suffered from him, was now openly acknowledged and publicly canvassed ; and everybody was pleased to think how much they had always disliked Mr. Darcy before they had known anything of the matter. Miss Bennet was the only creature who could suppose there might be any extenuating circumstances in the case unknown to the society of Hertfordshire : her mild and steady candour always pleaded for allowances, and urged the possibility of mistakes ; but by everybody else Mr. Darcy was condemned as the \vorst of men. CHAPTER XXV. FTER 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 alleviated on his side by preparations for the reception 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 Longbourn. Mr. Gardiner was a sensible, gentlemanlike 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 than Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips, was an amiable, intelligent, i;6 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. elegant woman, and a great favourite with her Long- bourn 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 became 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 perverseness. 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 thwarted so in my own family, and to have neighbours 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 cor- respondence 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 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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 happen so often ! A young man, such as you describe Mr. Bingley, so easily falls in love with a pretty OJfendfk 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 common ; and, though Wickham had been little there since the death of Darcy's father, five years before, it was yet in his power to give her fresher intelligence 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, con- sequently, 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 something of that gentleman's re- puted 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. .; ,, /!?•' ' /yCf"~il-.-i-i ' CHAPTER XXVI. RS. GARDINER'S caution to Eliza- beth was punctually and kindly given on the first favourable opportunity 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, there- fore, I am not afraid of speaking openly. Seriously, I would have you be on your guard. Do not involve your- self, or endeavour 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 1 82 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. have sense, and we all expect you to use it. Your father would depend on your resolution 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." " 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." 7 j =* " 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 comparison, 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 imprudence of it. Oh, tJiat abominable Mr. Darcy ! My father's opinion of me does me the greatest honour ; and I should be miserable to forfeit it. My father, how- ever, 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 engage- ments 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 wiser to resist ? AIT 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 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 con- PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 183 scious 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 fre- quently invited this week. You know my mother's ideas as to the necessity of constant company for her friends. But really, and upon my honour, 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 Elizabeth, having thanked her for the kindness of her hints, they parted, — a wonderful instance of advice being given on such a point without being resented. Mr. Collins returned into Hertfordshire soon alter it had been quitted by the Gardiners and Jane ; but, as he took up his abode with the Lucases, his arrival was no great inconvenience to Mrs. Bennet. His marriage was now fast approaching ; 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 wedding-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 sin- cerely affected herself, accompanied her out of the room. As they went down stairs together, Charlotte said, — " I shall depend on hearing from you very often, Eliza." " TJiat you certainly shall." " And I have another favour 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. 1 84 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. " 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 bridegroom set off for Kent from the church door, and everybody had as much to say or to hear on the subject as usual. Elizabeth soon heard from her friend, and their corre- spondence 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 determined not to slacken as a correspondent, it was for the sake of what had been rather than what was. Char- lotte's first letters were received with a good deal of eagerness : there could not but be curiosity to know how she would speak of her new home, how she would like Lady Catherine, and how happy she would dare pro- nounce 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, neighbourhood, and roads, were all to her taste, and Lady Catherine's behaviour was most friendly and obliging. It was Mr. Collins's picture of Hunsford and Rosings rationally softened ; and Eliza- beth 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 an- nounce their safe arrival in London ; and when she wrote again, Elizabeth hoped it would be in her power to say something of the Bingleys. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 185 Her impatience for this second letter was as well re- warded 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." She wrote again when the visit \vas 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 \vas well, but so much engaged with Mr. Darcy that they scarcely ever sa\v 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 con- vinced her that "accident only could discover to Mr. Bingley her sister's being in town. Four \veeks passed away, and Jane saw nothing of him. She endeavoured to persuade herself that she did not regret it ; but she could no longer be blind to Miss Bingley's inattention. After waiting at home every morning for a fortnight, and inventing 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 : — 1 86 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. '• My dearest 'Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing 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 if I still assert that, considering what her behaviour 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 meantime. 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 acquaintance no longer. I pit}*, 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 farther ; and though we know this anxiety to be quite needless, yet if she feels it, it will easily account for her behaviour 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 her- self; and yet it would seem, by her manner of talking, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. as if she wanted to persuade herself 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. I will endeavour 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 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 accounts 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 expectation from the brother was now absolutely over. She would not even wish for any renewal of his attentions. His cha- racter sunk on every review of it ; and, as a punishment for him, as well as a possible advantage to Jane, she seriously hoped he might really soon marry Mr. Darcy's sister, as, by \Vickham's account, she would make him abundantly regret what he had thrown away. Mrs. Gardiner about this time reminded Elizabeth 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 admirer of some one else. Elizabeth was 1 88 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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 acquisition of ten thousand pounds was the most remarkable charm of the young lady to whom he was now rendering himself agreeable ; but Elizabeth, 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 : — u 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 /iitti, 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 object to all my acquaintance, were I distractedly in love with him, I cannot say that I regret my comparative insignificance. 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 conviction that handsome young men must have something to live on as well as the plain." CHAPTER XXVII. ITH no greater events than these in the Longbourn family, and otherwise diver- sified 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 depending on the plan, 190 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. and she ^raduallv learned to consider it herself with v f greater pleasure as well as greater certainty. Absence had increased her desire 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 o journey would, moreover, give her a peep at Jane ; and, in short, as the time drew near, she would have been verv sorrv for anv delav. Evervthing, however, went on J •+ • • » *-> smoothly, and was finally settled according to Charlotte's first sketch. She was to accompany Sir William and his sc :ond daughter. The improvement of spending a night in London was added in time, and the plan became as perfect as plan could be. The only pain was in leaving her father, who would certainly miss her, and who, when it came to the point, s 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. YVickham 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 even- en- joyment, reminding her of what she was to expect in Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and trusting their opinion of her — their opinion of even-body — 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 alwavs be her model of the amiable and • pleasing. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 191 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-humoured 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 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 watching 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, prevented their coming lower. All was joy and kindness. 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 dejection. It was reasonable, how- ever, 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 conversations occurring at different times between Jane and herself, 192 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. which proved that the former had, from her heart, given up the acquaintance. Mrs. Gardiner then rallied her niece on Wickham'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 matri- monial 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 allowable 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? " " 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 herself — sense or feeling." PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 193 " 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 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 manners nor sense to recommend him. Stupid men are the only ones worth knowing, after all." " Take care, Lizzy ; that speech savours 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 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 felicity ! You give me fresh life and vigour. Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What are men to rocksand mountains ? Oh, what hours of transport we shall spend ! And when we do return, it shall not be like other travellers, without being able to give one accurate idea of anything. We ze>///know where we have gone — wew ///recol- lect what we have seen. Lakes, mountains, and rivers, shall not be j umbled together in our imaginations ; nor, when we at- tempt todescribeany particular scene, will we beginquarrel- lingaboutitsrelativesituation. Let our first effusions be less insupportable than those of the generality of travellers." O CHAPTER XXVIII. 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 constant source of delight. When they left the high road for the lane to Hunsford, every eye was in search of the Parsonage, 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 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 195 sloping to the road, the house standing in it, the green pales and the laurel hedge, everything 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 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 inquiries 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 parlour, 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 reason- ably be ashamed, which certainly was not seldom, she involuntarily turned her eye on Charlotte. Once or twice she could discern a faint blush ; but in general Charlotte 196 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. wisely did not hear. After sitting long enough to admire every 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 cultivation of which he attended him- self. To work in his garden was one of his most respect- able pleasures ; and Elizabeth admired the command of countenance with which Charlotte talked of the health- fulness of the exercise, and owned she encouraged it as much as possible. Here, leading the way through eyery 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 behind. He could number the fields in every direction, 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 Rosings, afforded by an opening in the trees that bordered the park nearly opposite 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 accompanied him, Charlotte took her sister and friend over the house, extremely well pleased, probably, to have the opportunity of showing it without her husband's help. It was rather small, but well built and convenient ; 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 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 1 97 throughout, and by Charlotte's evident enjoyment of it, Elizabeth supposed he must be often forgotten. She had already learnt that Lady Catherine was still in the country. It was spoken of again while they were at dinner, when Mr. Collins joining in, observed,- "Yes, Miss Elizabeth, you will have the honour of seeing Lady Catherine de Bourgh on the ensuing 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 honoured with some portion of her notice when service is over. I have scarcely any hesita- tion in saying that she will include you and my sister Maria in every invitation with which she honours us during your stay here. Her behaviour to my dear Char- lotte is charming. We dine at Rosings twice every week, and are never allowed to walk home. Her Ladyship's carriage is regularly ordered for us. I should say, one of her Ladyship's carriages, for she has several." " Lady Catherine is a very respectable, sensible woman, indeed," added Charlotte, " and a most attentive neigh- bour." " 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 Hert- fordshire news, and telling again what had been already written ; and when it closed, Elizabeth, in the solitude of her chamber, had to meditate upon Charlotte's degree of contentment, to understand her address in guiding, and composure in bearing with, her husband, and to acknow- ledge that it was all done very well. She had also to anticipate how her visit would pass, the quiet tenour of their usual employments, the vexatious interruptions of 198 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. Mr. Collins, and the gaieties of their intercourse with Rosings. A lively imagination 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 confusion ; and, after listening a moment, she heard somebody running up- ff ^. Sn Conversation witfi Tfie (act(eJ 206 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. "What, none of you?"' " Not one." " 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." u 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 assured 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 necessary. 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 engage one. I always say that nothing is to be done in education without steady and regular instruction, and nobody but a governess can snve it. It is wonderful how many families o o *> I have been the 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 person, who was PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 2O7 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 younger 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 back on sucJi 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 your opinion very decidedly for so young a person. Pray, what is your age ? " " With three younger sisters grown up," replied Eliza- beth, smiling, " your Ladyship can hardly expect me to own it." Lady Catherine seemed quite astonished at not re- ceiving 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, — there- fore you need not conceal your age." " I am not one-and-twenty." 208 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 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 cassino, the two girls had the honour 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 expressed 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 agree- ing to everything her Ladyship said, thanking her for every fish he won, and apologizing if 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 the}7 chose, the tables were broken up, the carnage was offered to Mrs. Collins, gratefully accepted, and immediately ordered. The party then gathered round the fire to hear Lad}- 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 favourable than it really was. But her commendation, though costing her some trouble, could by no means satisfy Mr. Collins, and he was very soon obliged to take her Ladyship's praise into his own hands. CHAPTER XXX. 'IR WILLIAM stayed only a week at Hunsford ; but his visit was long enough to convince him of his daugh- ter's being most comfortably settled, and of her possessing such a husband and such a neighbour as were not often met with. While Sir W7illiam was with them, Mr. Collins devoted his mornings to driving him out in his gig, and showing 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 garden, or in reading and writing, and looking out of window in his own book room, which fronted the road. P 210 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. The room in which the ladies sat was backwards. Elizabeth at first had rather wondered that Charlotte should not prefer the dining parlour 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 equally lively; and she gave Charlotte credit for the arrangement. From the drawing-room they could distinguish nothing in the lan'e, 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' conversation with Charlotte, but was scarcely ever prevailed 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 understand the sacrifice of so many hours. Now and then they were honoured with a call from her Ladyship, and nothing escaped her observa- tion that was passing in the room during these visits. She examined 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. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 211 Elizabeth soon perceived, that though this great 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 Air. Collins ; and whenever any of the cottagers were disposed • .. . • to be quarrelsome, 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 212 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. evening, every such entertainment was the counterpart of the first Their other engagements were few, as the style of living of the neighbourhood in general was beyond the Collinses' 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 favourite 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. 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 behaviour to his cousin, for whom he was evidently destined by

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