The Complete Works of Jane Austen - Part 2

0059

0059f

The Complete Works of Jane Austen - Part 2

    Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 4    Part 5    Part 6    Part 7

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE 

(First Published 1813) 



PRIDE AND PREJUDICE 

Chapter i 

IT is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession 
of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. 

However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on 
his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds 
of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property 
of someone or other of their daughters. 

"My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have you heard 
that Netherfield Park is let at last?" 

Mr. Bennet replied that he had not. 

"But it is," returned she; "for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she 
told me all about it." 

Mr. Bennet made no answer. 

"Do not you want to know who has taken it?" cried his wife impa- 
tiently. 

"You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it." 

This was invitation enough. 

"Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is 
taken by a young man of large fortune from the north of England ; that 
he came down on Monday in a chaise and four to see the place, and was 
so much delighted with it, that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; 
that he is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants 
are to be in the house by the end of next week." 

"What is his name?" 

"Bingley." 

"Is he married or single?" 

"Oh! single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or 
five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!" 

"How so? How can it affect them?" 

"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "how can you be so tiresome! 
You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them." 

"Is that his design in settling here?" 

"Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he 
may 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." 

231 



232 T H E W O R K S F J A N E A U S T E N 

"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- 
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 of 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 make his wife understand his character. Her mind 
was less difficult to develop. 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. 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 233 

Chapter 2 

MR. BENNET was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. 
Bingley. He had always intended to visit him, though to the last always 
assuring his wife that he should not go ; and till the evening after the 
visit was paid she had no knowledge of it. It was then disclosed in the 
following manner: Observing his second daughter employed in trim- 
ming 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." 

"But you forget, mamma," said Elizabeth, "that we shall meet him at 
the assemblies, and that Mrs. Long has promised to introduce him." 

"I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such thing. She has two nieces 
of her own. She is a selfish, hypocritical woman, and I have no opinion 
of her." 

"No more have I," said Mr. Bennet; "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 com- 
passion 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." 

"Aye, so it is," cried her mother, "and Mrs. Long does not come back 
till the day before ; so it will be impossible for her to introduce him, for 
she will not know him herself." 

"Then, my dear, you may have the advantage of your friend, and 
introduce Mr. Bingley to her" 

"Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, when I am not acquainted with 
him myself; how can you be so teasing?" 

"I honour your circumspection. A fortnight's acquaintance is certainly 
very little. One cannot know what a man really is by the end of a fort- 
night. But if we do not venture somebody else will ; and after all, Mrs. 
Long and her nieces must stand their chance ; and, therefore, as she will 
think it an act of kindness, if you decline the office, I will take it on my- 
self." 

The girls stared at their father. Mrs. Bennet said only, "Nonsense, 
nonsense!" 

"What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation?" cried he. 
"Do you consider the forms of introduction, and the stress that is laid on 
them, as nonsense? I cannot quite agree with you there. What say you, 



234 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

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, "let us return to 
Mr. Bingley." 

"I am sick of Mr. Bingley," cried his wife. 

"I am sorry to hear that; but why did not you tell me so before? If I 
had known as much this morning I certainly would not have called on 
him. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually paid the visit, we cannot 
escape the acquaintance now." 

The astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished ; that of Mrs. 
Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest ; though, when the first tumult of joy 
was over, she began to declare that it was what she had expected all the 
while. 

"How good it was in you, my dear Mr. Bennet! But I knew I should 
persuade you at last. I was sure you loved your girls too well to neglect 
such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! and it is such a good joke, 
too, that you should have gone this morning and never said a word about 
it till now." 

"Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you choose," said Mr. Bennet; 
and, as he spoke, he left the room, fatigued with the raptures of his wife. 

"What an excellent father you have, girls!" said she, when the door 
was shut. "I do not know how you will ever make him amends for his 
kindness; or me either, for that matter. At our time of life it is not so 
pleasant, I can tell you, to be making new 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. 

Chapter 3 

NOT all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her five 
daughters, could ask on the subject, was sufficient to draw from her 
husband any satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley. They 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 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 agree- 
able, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next assembly with 
a large party. Nothing could be more delightful ! To be fond of dancing 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 235 

was a certain step towards falling in love ; and very lively hopes of Mr. 
Bingley's heart were entertained. 

"If I can but see one of my daughters happily settled at Netherfield," 
said Mrs. Bennet to her husband, "and all the others equally well mar- 
ried, I shall have nothing to wish for." 

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 fortu- 
nate, for they had the advantage of ascertaining from an upper window 
that he wore a blue coat, and rode a black horse. 

An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards dispatched; and already 
had Mrs. Bennet planned the courses that were to do credit to her house- 
keeping, when an answer arrived which deferred it all. Mr. Bingley was 
obliged to be in town the following day, and, consequently, unable to 
accept the honour of their invitation, etc. Mrs. Bennet was quite discon- 
certed. 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 
be always 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 being gone to London only to get a large party 
for the ball; and a report soon followed, that Mr. Bingley was to bring 
twelve ladies and seven gentlemen with him to the assembly. The girls 
grieved over such a number of ladies, but were comforted the day before 
the ball by hearing, that instead of twelve 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 only of 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 hand- 
somer than Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at with great admiration for 
about half the evening, 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 Derby- 
shire could then 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, 



236 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

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 any 
other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in walking about the room, 
speaking occasionally to one of his own party. His character was decided. 
He was the proudest, most disagreeable man in the world, and everybody 
hoped that he would never come there again. Amongst the most violent 
against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of his general 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 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 in- 
supportable. 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 king- 
dom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my 
life as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see un- 
commonly pretty." 

"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," said Mr. 
Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet. 

"Oh! she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one 
of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare 
say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you." 

"Which do you mean?" and turning round he looked for a moment at 
Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said: 
"She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no 
humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted 
by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, 
for you are wasting your time with me." 

Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth 
remained with no very cordial feelings towards him. She told the story, 
however, with great spirit among her friends ; for she had a lively, playful 
disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous. 

The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole family. Mrs. 
Bennet had seen her eldest daughter much admired by the Netherfield 
party. Mr. Bingley had danced with her twice, and she had been dis- 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 237 

tinguished by his sisters. Jane was as much gratified by this as her mother 
could be, though in a quieter way. Elizabeth felt Jane's pleasure. Mary 
had heard herself mentioned to Miss Bingley as the most accomplished 
girl in the neighbourhood ; and Catherine and Lydia had been fortunate 
enough to be never without partners, which was all that they had yet 
learnt to care for at a ball. They returned, therefore, in good spirits to 
Longbourn, the village where they lived, and of which they were the 
principal inhabitants. They found Mr. Bennet still up. With a book he 
was regardless of time ; and on the present occasion he had a good deal 
of curiosity as to the event of an evening which had raised such splendid 
expectations. He had rather hoped that all his wife's views on the stranger 
would be disappointed; but he soon found that he had a very different 
story to hear. 

"Oh! my dear Mr. Bennet," as she entered the room, "we have had a 
most delightful evening, a most excellent ball. I wish you had been there. 
Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it. Everybody said how well 
she looked ; and Mr. Bingley thought her quite beautiful, and danced with 
her twice ! Only think of that, my dear ; he actually danced with her twice ! 
and she was the only creature in the room that he asked a second time. 
First of all, he asked Miss Lucas. I was so vexed to see him stand up with 
her! But, however, he did not admire her at all; indeed, nobody. can, you 
know ; and he seemed quite struck with Jane as she was going down the 
dance. So he inquired who she was, and got introduced, and asked her 
for the two next. Then the two third he danced with Miss King, and the 
two fourth with Maria Lucas, and the two fifth with Jane again, and the 
two sixth with Lizzy, and the Boulanger " 

"If he had had any compassion for me" cried her husband impatiently 
"he would not have danced half so much! For God's sake, say no more of 
his partners. O that he had sprained his ankle in the first place! " 

"Oh! my dear," continued Mrs. Bennet, "I am quite delighted with 
him. He is so excessively handsome! And his sisters are charming women. 
I never in my life saw anything more elegant than their dresses. I dare 
say the lace upon Mrs. Hurst's gown 

Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against any 
description of finery. She was therefore obliged to seek another branch of 
the subject, and related, with much bitterness of spirit and some exag- 
geration, the shocking rudeness of Mr. Darcy. 

"But I can assure you," she added, "that Lizzy does not lose much 
by not suiting his fancy; for he is a most disagreeable, horrid man, not at 
all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited that there was no enduring 
him ! He walked here, and he walked there, fancying himself so very great ! 
Not handsome enough to dance with! I wish you had been there, my dear, 
to have given him one of your set-downs. I quite detest the man." 



238 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

Chapter 4 

WHEN Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cau- 
tious in her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister how 
very much she admired him. 

"He is just what a young man ought to be," said she, "sensible, good- 
humoured, lively; and I never saw such happy manners! so much ease, 
with such perfect good breeding!" 

"He is also handsome," replied Elizabeth; "which a young man ought 
likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete." 

"I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. 
I did not expect such a compliment." 

"Did not you? / did for you. But that is one great difference between 
us. Compliments always take you by surprise, and me never. What could 
be more natural than his asking you again? He could not help seeing that 
you were about five times as pretty as every other woman in the room. 
No thanks to his gallantry for that. Well, he certainly is very agreeable, 
and I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider person." 

"Dear Lizzy!" 

"Oh! you are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in general. 
You never see a fault in anybody. All the world are good and agreeable 
in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a human being in my life." 

"I would wish not to be hasty in censuring anyone ; but I always speak 
what I think." 

"I know you do; and it is that which makes the wonder. With your good 
sense, to be so honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of others ! Affecta- 
tion of candour is common enough one meets it everywhere. But to be 
candid without ostentation or design to take the good of everybody's 
character and make it still better, and say nothing of the bad belongs 
to you alone. And so you like this man's sisters, too, do you? Their man- 
ners are not equal to his." 

"Certainly not at first. But they are very pleasing women when you 
converse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother, and keep his 
house; and I am much mistaken if we shall not find a very charming 
neighbour in her." 

Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced ; their behaviour at 
the assembly had not been calculated to please in general ; and with more 
quickness of observation and less pliancy of temper than her sister, and 
with a judgment too unassailed by any attention to herself, she was very 
little disposed to approve them. They were in fact very fine ladies ; not 
deficient in good humour when they were pleased, nor in the power of 
being agreeable when they chose it, but proud and conceited. They were 
rather handsome, had been educated in one of the first private seminaries 
in town, had a fortune of twenty thousand pounds, were in the habit of 
spending more than they ought, and of associating with people of rank, 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 239 

and were therefore in every respect entitled to think well of themselves, 
and meanly of others. They were of a respectable family in the north of 
England; a circumstance more deeply impressed on their memories than 
that their brother's fortune and their own had been acquired by trade. 

Mr. Bingley inherited property to the amount of nearly a hundred 
thousand pounds from his father, who had intended to purchase an estate, 
but did not live to do it. Mr. Bingley intended it likewise, and sometimes 
made choice of his county ; but as he was now provided with a good house 
and the liberty of a manor, it was doubtful to many of those who best 
knew the easiness of his temper, whether he might not spend the re- 
mainder of his days at Netherfield, and leave the next generation to 
purchase. 

His sisters were very anxious for his having an estate of his own ; but, 
though he was now established only as a tenant, Miss Bingley was by no 
means unwilling to preside at his table nor was Mrs. Hurst, who had 
married a man of more fashion than fortune, less disposed to consider his 
house as her home when it suited her. Mr. Bingley had not been of age 
two years, when he was tempted by an accidental recommendation to 
look at Netherfield House. He did look at it, and into it for half-an-hour 
was pleased with the situation and the principal rooms, satisfied with what 
the owner said in its praise, and took it immediately. 

Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in spite of 
great opposition of character. Bingley was endeared to Darcy by the 
easiness, openness, and ductility of his temper, though no disposition 
could offer a greater contrast to his own, and though with his own he 
never appeared dissatisfied. On the strength of Darcy's regard, Bingley 
had the firmest reliance, and of his judgment the highest opinion. In 
understanding, Darcy was the superior. Bingley was by no means defi- 
cient, but Darcy was clever. He was at the same time haughty, reserved, 
and fastidious, and his manners, though well-bred, were not inviting. In 
that respect his friend had greatly the advantage. Bingley was sure of 
being liked wherever he appeared, Darcy was continually giving offence. 

The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was suffi- 
ciently characteristic. Bingley had never met with more pleasant people 
or prettier girls in his life ; everybody had been most kind and attentive to 
him ; there had been no formality, no stiffness ; he had soon felt acquainted 
with all the room ; and as to Miss Bennet, he could not conceive an angel 
more beautiful. Darcy, on the contrary, had seen a collection of people in 
whom there was little beauty and no fashion, for none of whom he had 
felt the smallest interest, and from none received either attention or 
pleasure. Miss Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty, but she smiled too 
much. 

Mrs. Hurst and her sister allowed it to be so but still they admired 
her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one whom 
they should not object to know more of. Miss Bennet was therefore estab- 



840 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

lished as a sweet girl, and their brother felt authorised by such com- 
mendation to think of her as he chose. 



Chapter 5 

WITHIN a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the 
Bennets were particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas had been formerly 
in trade in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune, and risen 
to the honour of knighthood by an address to the king, during his mayor- 
alty. The distinction had perhaps been felt too strongly. It had given 
him a disgust to his business, and to his residence in a small market 
town; and, quitting them both, he had removed with his family to a house 
about a mile from Meryton, denominated from that period Lucas Lodge, 
where he could think with pleasure of his own importance, and, un- 
shackled by business, occupy himself solely in being civil to all the world. 
For, though elated by his rank, it did not render him supercilious ; on the 
contrary, he was all attention to everybody. By nature inoffensive, 
friendly, and obliging, his presentation at St. James's had made him 
courteous. 

Lady Lucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a 
valuable neighbour to Mrs. Bennet. They had several children. The eldest 
of them, a sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty-seven, was 
Elizabeth's intimate friend. 

That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over 
a ball was absolutely necessary; and the morning after the assembly 
brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate. 

"You began the evening well, Charlotte," said Mrs. Bennet -with civil 
self-command to Miss Lucas. "You were Mr. Bingley's first choice." 

"Yes; but he seemed to like his second better." 

"Oh ! you mean Jane, I suppose, because he danced with her twice. To 
be sure that did seem as if he admired her indeed I rather believe he 
did I heard something about it but I hardly know what something 
about Mr. Robinson." 

"Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr. Robinson; 
did not I mention it to you? Mr. Robinson's asking him how he liked our 
Meryton assemblies, and whether he did not think there were a great 
many pretty women in the room, and which he thought the prettiest? 
and his answering immediately to the last question: 'Oh! the eldest Miss 
Bennet, beyond a doubt; there cannot be two opinions on that point.' " 

"Upon my word! Well, that was very decided indeed that does seem 
as if but, however, it may all come to nothing, you know." 

"My overhearings were more to the purpose than yours, Eliza," said 
Charlotte. "Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening to as his friend, is he? 
poor Eliza! to be only just tolerable" 

"J beg you would not put it into Lizzy's head to be vexed by his ill- 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 241 

ireatment, for he is such a disagreeable man, that it would be quiie & 
misfortune to be liked by him. Mrs. Long told me last night that he sal 
:lose to her for half-an-hour without once opening his lips." 

"Are you quite sure, ma'am? is not there a little mistake?" said Jane, 
"I certainly saw Mr. Darcy speaking to her." 

"Aye because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and he 
could not help answering her ; but she said he seemed very angry at being 
spoke to." 

"Miss Bingley told me," said Jane, "that he never speaks much, unless 
among his intimate acquaintances. With them he is remarkably agree- 
able." 

"I do not beileve 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 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 thai 
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 the 
other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the 
words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being 
vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we 
would have others think of us." 

"If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy," cried a young Lucas, who came with 
his sisters, "I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack oi 
foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine every day." 

"Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought," said Mrs. 
Bennet; "and if I were to see you at it, I should take away your bottle 
directly." 

The boy protested that she should not ; she continued to declare that 
she would, and the argument ended only with the visit. 



* 4 2 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

Chapter 6 

THE ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. The 
visit was soon returned in due form. Miss Bennet's pleasing manners 
grew on the goodwill of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley ; and though the 
mother was found to be intolerable, and the younger sisters not worth 
speaking to, a wish of being better acquainted with them was expressed 
towards the two eldest. By Jane, this attention was received with the 
greatest pleasure ; but Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in their treat- 
ment 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 way to be very 
much in love ; but she considered with pleasure that it was not likely to be 
discovered by the world in general, since Jane united, with great strength 
of feeling, a composure of temper and a uniform cheerfulness of manner 
which would guard 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 7 can 
perceive her regard for him, he must be a simpleton, indeed, not to dis- 
cover 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 there- 
fore make the most of every half-hour in which she can command his 
attention. When she is secure of him, there will be leisure for falling in 
love as much as she chooses." 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 243 

"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 
evenings 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 characteristic, I do not imagine that much has been unfolded." 

"Well," said Charlotte, "I wish Jane success with all my heart; and if 
she were married to him to-morrow, I should think she had as good a 
chance of happiness as if she were to be studying his character for a 
twelvemonth. Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the 
dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other or ever 
so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They 
always continue to grow sufficiently unlike 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." 

"You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound. You know it is not 
sound, and that you would never act in this way yourself." 

Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions to her sister, Elizabeth 
was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some 
interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely allowed 
her to be pretty ; he had looked at her without admiration at the ball ; and 
when they next met, he looked at her only to 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 expression of her dark eyes. To this discovery 
succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had detected with 
a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry in her form, he 
was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and pleasing; and in spite 
of his asserting that her manners were not those of the fashionable world, 
he was caught by their easy playfulness. Of this was she perfectly un- 
aware; 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. 



244 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

"What does Mr. Darcy mean," said she to Charlotte, "by listening to 
my conversation with Colonel Forster?" 

"That is a question which Mr. Darcy only can answer." 

"But if he does it any more I shall certainly let him know that I see 
what he is about. He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by 
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 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 lady 
energetic." 

"You are severe on us." 

"It will be her turn soon to be teased," said Miss Lucas. "I am going 
to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows." 

"You are a very strange creature by way of a friend! always wanting 
me to play and sing before anybody and everybody! 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 fine old saying, which everybody 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 man- 
ner, 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 playing half so well ; and Mary, at the end of 
a long concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude by Scotch and 
Irish airs, at the request of her younger sisters, who, with some of the 
Lucases, and two or three officers, joined eagerly in dancing at one end 
of the room. 

Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at such a mode of 
passing the evening, to the exclusion of all conversation, and was too 
much engrossed by his thoughts to perceive that Sir William Lucas was 
his neighbour, till Sir William thus began: 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 245 

"What a charming amusement for young people this 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. Every savage can dance." 

Sir William only smiled. "Your friend performs delightfully," he con- 
tinued after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group; "and I doubt not 
that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy." 

"You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, sir." 

"Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. 
Do you often dance at St. James's?" 

"Never, sir." 

"Do you not think it would be a proper 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. Darcy bowed. 

"I had once some thoughts of fixing in town myself for I am fond of 
superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that the air of London 
would agree with Lady Lucas." 

He paused in hopes of an answer ; but his companion was not disposed 
to make any ; and Elizabeth at that instant moving towards them, he was 
struck with the action of doing a very gallant thing, and called out to her : 

"My dear Miss Eliza, why are not you dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must 
allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. 
You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before 
you." And, taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy who, 
though extremely surprised, was not unwilling to, receive it, when she 
instantly drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William: 

"Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you 
not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner." 

Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the 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." 



*46 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

"You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many 
evenings in this manner in such society ; and indeed I am quite of your 
opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity, and yet the noise 
the nothingness, and yet the self-importance of all those people! What 
would I give to hear your strictures on them!" 

"Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more 
agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure 
which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow." 

Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he 
would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections. Mr, 
Darcy replied with great intrepidity: 

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet." 

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet!" repeated Miss Bingley. "I am all astonish- 
ment. 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 serious about it, I shall consider the matter is abso- 
lutely settled. You will have a charming mother-in-law, indeed; and, of 
course, she will be always at Pemberley with you." 

He listened to her with perfect indifference while she chose to entertain 
herself in this manner ; and as his composure convinced her that all was 
safe, her wit flowed long. 



Chapter 7 

MR. BENNET 's property consisted almost entirely in an estate of two 
thousand a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, was entailed, 
in default of heirs male, on a distant relation; and their mother's fortune, 
though ample for her situation in life, could but ill supply the deficiency 
of his. Her father had been an attorney in Meryton, and had left her 
four thousand pounds. 

She had a sister married to a Mr. Philips, who had been a clerk to their 
father and succeeded him in the business, and a brother settled in London 
in a respectable line of trade. 

The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton ; a most con- 
venient 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 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 247 

their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both with news 
and happiness by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the neighbour- 
hood; 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 something to their knowledge of the officers' 
names and connections. Their lodgings were not long a secret, and at 
] ength 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. 

After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Mr. Bennet 
coolly observed: 

"From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be 
two of the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it some time, but 
I am now convinced." 

Catherine was disconcerted, and made no 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 
ready 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 silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it." 

"Yes but as it happens, they are all of them very clever." 

"This is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not agree. 1 
had hoped that our sentiments coincided in every particular, but I must 
so far differ from you as to think our two youngest daughters uncom- 
monly foolish." 

"My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect such girls to have the sense 
of their father and mother. When they get to our age, I dare say they will 
not think about officers any more than we do. I remember the time when 
I liked a red coat myself very well and, indeed, so I do still at my heart ; 
and if a smart young colonel, with five or six thousand a year, should want 
one of my girls I shall not say nay to him ; and I thought Colonel Forster 
looked very becoming the other night at Sir William's in his regimentals." 

"Mamma," cried Lydia, "my aunt says that Colonel Forster and 
Captain Carter do not go so 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: 



248 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

"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 tete-a-tete between two women can never end without a 
quarrel. Come as soon as you can on 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." 

"Oh! but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley 's chaise to go to Mery- 
ton; and the Hursts have no horses to theirs." 

"I had much rather go in the coach." 

"But, my dear, your father cannot soare 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." 

She did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment 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 de- 
lighted. 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 Netherfield brought the 
following note for Elizabeth: 

"MY DEAREST LIZZY, 

"I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be 
imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will not 
hear of my returning home till I am better. They insist also on my seeing 
Mr. Jones therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 249 

been to me and, excepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much 
the matter with me. Yours, etc." 

"Well, my dear," said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note 
aloud, "if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness if she 
should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of 
Mr. Bingley, and under your orders." 

"Oh! I am not at all afraid of her dying. People do not die of little 
trifling colds. She will be taken good care of. As long as she stays there, it 
is all very well. I would go and see her if I could have the carriage." 

Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was 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, exer- 
tion 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 ankles, dirty stockings, and a face glowing with 
the warmth of exercise. 

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 



250 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish, and not well enough 
to leave her room. Elizabeth was glad to be taken to her immediately ; and 
Jane, who had only been withheld by the fear of giving alarm or incon- 
venience from expressing in her note how much she longed for such a 
visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was not equal, however, to much 
conversation, and when Miss Bingley left them together, could attempt 
little besides 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 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. Eliza- 
beth did not quit her room for a moment ; nor were the other ladies often 
absent; the gentlemen being out, they had, in fact, nothing to do 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 in 
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 consented, and a servant was dispatched to 
Longbourn to acquaint the family with her stay and bring back a supply 
of clothes. 

Chapter 8 

Ax five o'clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half -past six 
Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. To the civil inquiries which then 
poured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of distinguishing the 
much superior solicitude of Mr. Bingley's, she could not make a very 
favourable answer. Jane was by no means better. The sisters, on hearing 
this, repeated three or four times how much they were grieved, how 
shocking it was to have a bad cold, and how excessively they disliked 
being ill themselves; and then thought no more of the matter: and their 
indifference towards Jane when not immediately before them restored 
Elizabeth to the enjoyment of all her original dislike. 

Their brother, indeed, was the only one of the party whom she could 
regard with any 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 
Elizabeth sat, he was an indolent man. who lived onlv to eat, drink, and 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 251 

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 coun- 
try, because her sister had a cold? Her hair, so untidy, so blowsy ! " 

"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 ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean 
by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited inde- 
pendence, 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." 

"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 



252 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of 
their dear friend's vulgar relations. 

With a renewal of tenderness, however, they 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 m 
the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her sleep, and when it 
appeared to her rather right than pleasant that she should go downstairs 
herself. On entering the drawing-room she found the whole party at loo, 
and was immediately invited to join them; but suspecting them to be 
playing high, she declined it, and making her sister the excuse, said she 
would amuse herself, for the short time she could stay below, with a book. 
Mr. Hurst looked at her with astonishment. 

"Do you prefer reading to cards?" said he; "that is rather singular." 

"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 Elizabeth; "I 
am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things." 

"In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure," said Bingley; 
"and I hope it will soon be increased by seeing her quite well." 

Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards a table 
where a few books were lying. He immediately offered to fetch her others 
all that his library afforded. 

"And I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own 
credit; but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have more 
than I ever look 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 work 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 may." 

"But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that neigh- 
bourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a finer 
county in England than Derbyshire." 

"W'ith all my heart ; I will buy Pemberley itself if Darcy will sell it." 

ft l am talking of possibilities, Charles." 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 253 

"Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get 
Pemberley by purchase than by imitation." 

Elizabeth was so much caught by what passed, as to leave her very 
little attention for her book ; and soon laying it wholly aside, she drew 
near the card-table, and stationed herself between Mr. 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 anybody who delighted 
me so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accom- 
plished 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 anyone 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 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 comprehend 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 this 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 any" 

"Are you so severe upon your own sex as to doubt the possibility of all 
this?" 

"/ never saw such a woman. / never saw such capacity, arjd taste, and 
application, and elegance, as you describe united." 



254 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the injustice of her 
implied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many women 
who answered this description, when Mr. Hurst called them to order, with 
bitter complaints of their inattention to what was going forward. As all 
conversation was thereby at an end, Elizabeth soon afterwards left the 
room. 

"Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on her, 
"is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the 
other sex by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I dare say, it 
succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry devfce, a very mean art." 

"Undoubtedly," replied Darcy, to whom this remark was chiefly ad- 
dressed, "there is meanness in all the arts which ladies sometimes conde- 
scend 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 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 un- 
willing 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 every possible attention might 
be paid to the sick lady and her sister. 



Chapter 9 

ELIZABETH passed the chief of the night in her sister's room, and in 
the morning had the pleasure of being able to send a tolerable answer 
to ihe inquiries which she very early received from Mr. Bingley by a 
housemaid, and some time afterwards from the two elegant ladies who 
waited on his sisters. In spite of this amendment, however, she requested 
to have a note sent to Longbourn, desiring her mother to visit Jane, and 
form her own judgment of her situation. The note was immediately dis- 
patched, and its contents as quickly complied with. Mrs. Bennet, accom- 
panied by her two youngest girls, reached Netherfield soon after the 
family breakfast. 

Had she found Jane in any apparent danger, Mrs. Bennet would have 
been very miserable ; but being satisfied on seeing her that her illness was 
not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately, as her 
restoration to health would orobably remove her from Netherfield. She 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 255 

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 Bingley's 
appearance and invitation, the mother and three daughters all attended 
her into the breakfast parlour. Bingley met them with hopes that Mrs. 
Bennet had not found Miss Bennet worse than she expected. 

"Indeed I have, sir," was her answer. "She is a great deal too ill to be 
moved. Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass 
a little longer on your kindness." 

"Removed!" cried Bingley. "It must not be thought of. My sister, I 
am sure, will not hear of her removal." 

"You may depend upon it, madam," said Miss Bingley, with cold 
civility, "that Miss Bennet shall receive every possible attention while she 
remains with us." 

Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments. 

"I am sure," she added, "if it was not for such good friends I do not 
know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers a 
vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which is always 
the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest temper 1 
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 the 
gravel walk. I do not know a place in the country that is equal to Nether- 
field. 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, intri- 
cate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours." 

"Lizzy," cried her mother, * remember where you are, and do not run 
on in the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home." 

"I did not know before," continued Bingley immediately, "that you 
were a studier of 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 a few sub- 
jects for such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very 
confined and unvarying society." 

"But people themselves alter so much, that there is something nev/ to 
be observed in them for ever." 

"Yes, indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner of men- 



256 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

tioning a country neighbourhood. "I assure you there is quite as much 
of that -going on in the country as in town." 

Everybody was surprised, and Darcy, after looking at her for a mo- 
ment, 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 over the country, 
for my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal 
pleasanter, is not it, Mr. Bingley?" 

"When I am in the country," he replied, "I never wish to leave it; and 
when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their ad- 
vantages, and I can be equally happy in either." 

"Aye that is because you have the right disposition. But that gentle- 
man," 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 acknowledge 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 neighbour- 
hoods larger. I know we dine with four-and-twenty families." 

Nothing but concern for Elizabeth could enable Bingley to keep his 
countenance. His sister was less delicate, and directed her eyes towards 
Mr. Darcy with a very expressive smile. Elizabeth, for the sake of saying 
something that might turn her mother's thoughts, now asked her if 
Charlotte Lucas had been at Longbourn since her coming away. 

"Yes, she called yesterday with her father. What an agreeable man Sir 
William is, Mr. Bingley is not he? So much the man of fashion! So 
genteel and so easy! He had always something to say to everybody. That 
is my idea of good breeding ; and those persons who fancy themselves very 
important, and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter." 

"Did Charlotte dine with you?" 

"No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince-pies. 
For my part, Mr. Bingley, / always keep servants that can do their own 
work; my daughters are brought up differently. But everybody is to judge 
for themselves, and the Lucases are a very good sort of girls, I assure you. 
It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that 7 think Charlotte so very 
plain but then she is our particular friend." 

"She seems a very pleasant young woman," said Bingley. 

"Oh! dear, yes; but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself 
has often said so, and envied me Jane's beauty. I do not like to boast of 
my own child, but to be sure, Jane one does not often see anybody better 
looking. It is what everybody says. I do not trust my own partiality. 
When she was only fifteen, there was a gentleman at my brother Gar- 
diner's in town so much in love with her that my sister-in-law was sure 
he would make her an offer before we came away. But, however, he did 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 257 

not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he wrote some verses on 
her, and very pretty they were." 

"And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently. "There has 
been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first 
discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love! " 

"I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love," said Darcy. 

"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is 
strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I air? 
convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away." 

Darcy only smiled ; and the general pause which ensued made Elizabeth 
tremble lest her mother should be exposing herself again. She longed to 
speak, but could think of nothing to say ; and after a short silence Mrs. 
Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr. Bingley for his kindness to 
Jane, with an apology for troubling him also with Lizzy. Mr. Bingley was 
unaffectedly civil in his answer, and forced his younger sister to be civil 
also, and say what the occasion required. She performed her part indeed 
without much graciousness, but Mrs. Bennet was satisfied, and soon after- 
wards ordered her carriage. Upon this signal, the youngest of her daugh- 
ters put herself forward. The two girls had been whispering to each other 
during the whole visit, and the result of it was, that the youngest should 
tax Mr. Bingley with having promised on his first coming into the country 
to give a ball at Netherfield. 

Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen, with a fine complexion and 
good-humoured countenance; a favourite with her mother, whose affec- 
tion had brought her into public at an early age. She had high animal 
spirits, and a sort of natural self -consequence, which the attention of the 
officers, to whom her uncle's good dinners and her own easy manners 
recommended her, had increased into assurance. She was very equal, 
therefore, to address Mr. Bingley on the subject of the ball, and abruptly 
reminded him of his promise ; adding, that it would be the most shameful 
thing in the world if he did not keep it. His answer to this sudden attack 
was delightful to her mother's ^ar: 

"I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement; and when 
your sister is recovered, you shall, if you please, name the very day of the 
ball. But you would not wish to be dancing while she is ill." 

Lydia declared herself satisfied. "Oh! yes it would be much better to 
wait till jane #as well, and by that time most likely Captain Carter would 
be at Meryton again. And when you have given your ball," she added, "I 
shall insist on their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel Forster it will be 
quite a shame if he does not." 

Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Elizabeth returned 
instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her relations' behaviour to the 
remarks of the two ladies and Mr. Darcy; the latter of whom, however, 
could not be prevailed on to join in their censure of her, in spite of all 
Miss Bingley 's witticisms on fine eyes. 



*58 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

Chapter 10 

THE day passed much as the day before had done. Mrs. Hurst and 
Miss Bingley had spent some hours of the morning with the invalid, who 
continued, though slowly, to mend; and in the evening Elizabeth joined 
their party in the drawing-room. The loo-table, however, did not appear. 
Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching 
the progress of his letter and repeatedly calling off his attention by mes- 
sages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and Mrs. 
Hurst was observing their game. 

Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused in 
attending to what passed between Darcy and his companion. The per- 
petual commendations of the lady, either on his handwriting, or on the 
evenness of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect uncon- 
cern with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and 
was exactly in unison with her opinion of each. 

"How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter! " 

He made no answer. 

"You write uncommonly fast." 

"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly." 

"How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of a 
year! Letters of business, too! How odious I should think them!" 

"It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of to yours." 

"Pray tell your sister that I long to see her." 

"I have already told her so- once, by your desire.' 7 

"I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend 
pens remarkably well." 

"Thank you but I always mend my own." 

"How can you contrive to write so even?" 

He was silent, 

"Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the 
harp ; and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful 
little design for a table, and I think it infinitely superior to Miss Grant- 
ley's." 

"Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again? At 
present I have not room to do them justice." 

"Oh! It is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do you 
always write such charming long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?" 

"They are generally long; but whether always charming it is not for 
me to determine." 

"It is a rule with me, that a person who 
economy, and other amiable qualifications." 

"Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must 
give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of believ- 
ing what I say. I wish you very happy and very rich, and by refusing your 
hand, do all in my power to prevent your being otherwise. In making 
me the offer, you must have satisfied the delicacy of your feelings with 
regard to my family, and may take possession of Longbourn estate when- 
ever it falls, without any self-reproach. This matter may be considered, 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 297 

therefore, as finally settled." And rising as she thus spoke, she would have 
quitted the room, had not Mr. Collins thus addressed her: 

"When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on the subject, 
I shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given 
me ; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I 
know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the 
first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much to en- 
courage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the female 
character." 

"Really, Mr. Collins," cried Elizabeth with some warmth, "you puzzle 
me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the 
form of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a 
way as may convince you of its being one." 

"You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your 
refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for believ- 
ing it are briefly these : It does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy 
your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would be any other 
than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections with the family 
of de Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are circumstances highly 
in my favour; and you should take it into further consideration, that in 
spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that another 
offer of marriage may ever be made you. Your portion is unhappily so 
small that it will in all likelihood undo the effects of your loveliness and 
amiable qualifications. As I must therefore conclude that you are not 
serious in your rejection of me, I shall choose to attribute it to your wish 
of increasing my love by suspense, according to the usual practice of 
elegant females." 

"I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretensions whatever to that kind 
of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would rather 
be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you again and 
again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but to accept 
them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect forbid it. Can 
I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant female, intending 
to plague you, but as a rational creature, speaking the truth from her 
heart." 

"You are uniformly charming!" cried he, with an air of awkward 
gallantry; "and I am persuaded that when sanctioned by the express 
authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of 
being acceptable." 

To such perseverance in wilful self-deception Elizabeth would make no 
reply, and immediately and in silence withdrew; determined, that if he 
persisted in considering her repeated refusals as flattering encouragement, 
to apply to her father, whose negative might be uttered in such a manner 
as must be decisive, and whose behaviour at least could not be mistaken 
for the affectation and coquetry of an elegant female. 



298 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

Chapter 20 

MR. COLLINS was not left long to the silent contemplation of his suc- 
cessful love; for Mrs. Bennet, having dawdled about in the vestibule to 
watch for the end of the conference, no sooner saw Elizabeth open the 
door and with quick step pass her towards the staircase, than she entered 
the breakfast-room, and congratulated both him and herself in warm 
terms on the happy prospect of their nearer connection. Mr. Collins re- 
ceived and returned these felicitations with equal pleasure, and then pro- 
ceeded to relate the particulars of their interview, with the result of which 
he trusted he had every reason to be satisfied, since the refusal which his 
cousin had steadfastly given him would naturally flow from her bashful 
modesty and the genuine delicacy of her character. 

This information, however, startled Mrs. Bennet; she would have been 
glad to be equally satisfied that her daughter had meant to encourage him 
by protesting against his proposals, but she dared not believe it, and 
could not help saying so. 

"But, depend upon it, Mr. Collins," she added, "that Lizzy shall be 
brought to reason. I will speak to her about it myself directly. She is a 
very headstrong, foolish girl, and does not know her own interest; but I 
will make her know it." 

"Pardon me for interrupting you, madam," cried Mr. Collins; "but if 
she is really headstrong and foolish, I know not whether she would alto- 
gether be a very desirable wife to a man in my situation, who naturally 
looks for happiness in the marriage state. If therefore she actually per- 
sists in rejecting my suit, perhaps it were better not to force her into ac- 
cepting me, because if liable to such defects of temper, she could not 
contribute much to my felicity." 

"Sir, you quite misunderstand me," said Mrs. Bennet, alarmed. "Lizzy 
is only headstrong in such matters as these. In everything else she is as 
good-natured a girl as ever lived. I will go directly to Mr. Bennet, and we 
shall very soon settle it with her, I am sure." 

She would not give him time to reply, but hurrying instantly to her 
husband, called out as she entered the library, "Oh ! Mr. Bennet, you are 
wanted immediately; we are all in an uproar. You must come and make 
Lizzy marry Mr. Collins, for she vows she will not have him, and if you 
do not make haste he will change his mind and not have her" 

Mr. Bennet raised his eyes from his book as she entered, and fixed them 
on her face with a calm unconcern which was not in the least altered by 
her communication. 

"I have not the pleasure of understanding you," said he, when she had 
finished her speech. "Of what are you talking?" 

"Of Mr. Collins and Lizzy. Lizzy declares she will not have Mr. Collins, 
and Mr. Collins begins to say that he will not have Lizzy." 

"And what am I to do on the occasion? It seems an hopeless business." 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 299 

"Speak to Lizzy about it yourself. Tell her that you insist upon her 
marrying him." 

"Let her be called down. She shall hear my opinion." 

Mrs. Bennet rang the bell, and Miss Elizabeth was summoned to the 
library. 

"Come here, child," cried her father as she appeared. "I have sent for 
you on an affair of importance. I understand that Mr. Collins has made 
you an offer of marriage. Is it true?" Elizabeth replied that it was. "Very 
well and this offer of marriage you have refused?" 

"I have, sir." 

"Very well. We now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your 
accepting it. Is it not so, Mrs. Bennet?" 

"Yes, or I will never see her again.'" 

"An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you 
must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you 
again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if 
you do." 

Elizabeth could not but smile at such a conclusion of such a beginning ; 
but Mrs. Bennet, who had persuaded herself that her husband regarded 
the affair as she wished, was excessively disappointed. 

"What do you mean, Mr. Bennet, by talking in this way? You promised 
me to insist upon her marrying him." 

"My dear," replied her husband, "I have two small favours to request. 
First, that you will allow me the free use of my understanding on the 
present occasion ; and secondly, of my room. I shall be glad to have the 
library to myself as soon as may be." 

Not yet, however, in spite of her disappointment in her husband, did 
Mrs. Bennet give up the point. She talked to Elizabeth again and again; 
coaxed and threatened her by turns. She endeavoured to secure Jane in 
her interest; but Jane, with all possible mildness, declined interfering; 
and Elizabeth, sometimes with real earnestness, and sometimes with play- 
ful gaiety, replied to her attacks. Though her manner varied, however, her 
determination never did. 

Mr. Collins, meanwhile, was meditating in solitude on what had passed. 
He thought too well of himself to comprehend on what motive his cousin 
could refuse him ; and though his pride was hurt, he suffered in no other 
way. His regard for her was quite imaginary; and the possibility of her 
deserving her mother's reproach prevented his feeling any regret. 

While the family were in this confusion, Charlotte Lucas came to spend 
the day with them. She was met in the vestibule by Lydia, who, flying to 
her, cried in a half whisper, "I am glad you are come, for there is such 
fun here! What do you think has happened this morning? Mr. Collins has 
made an offer to Lizzy, and she will not have him." 

Charlotte had hardly time to answer, before they were joined by Kitty, 
who came to tell the same news; and no sooner had they entered the 
breakfast-room, where Mrs. Bennet was alone, than she likewise began 



300 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

on the subject, calling on Miss Lucas for her compassion, and entreating 
her to persuade her friend Lizzy to comply with the wishes of all her 
family. "Pray do, my dear Miss Lucas," she added in a melancholy tone, 
"for nobody is on my side, nobody takes part with me. I am cruelly used, 
nobody feels for my poor nerves." 

Charlotte's reply was spared by the entrance of Jane and Elizabeth. 

"Aye, there she comes," continued Mrs. Bennet, "looking as uncon- 
cerned 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. 7 shall not be 
able to keep you and so I warn you. I have done with you from this very 
day. I told you in the library, you know, that I should never speak to you 
again, and you will find me as good as my word. I have no pleasure in 
talking to undutiful children. Not that I have much pleasure, indeed, in 
talking to anybody. People who suffer as I do from nervous complaints 
can have no great inclination for talking. Nobody can tell what I suffer! 
But it is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied." 

Her daughters listened in silence to this effusion, sensible that any at- 
tempt to reason with or soothe her would only increase the irritation. She 
talked on, therefore, without interruption from any of them, till they were 
joined by Mr. Collins, who entered with an air more stately than usual, 
and on perceiving whom, she said to the girls, "Now, I do insist upon it, 
that you, all of you hold your tongues, and let Mr. Collins and me have 
a little conversation together." 

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, satis- 
fied 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 vvill not, I 
hope, consider 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 request- 
ing you to interpose your authority in my behalf. My conduct may, I fear, 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 301 

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 advantage 
of all your family, and if my manner has been at all reprehensible, I here 
beg leave to apologise." 



Chapter 21 

THE discussion of Mr. Collins's offer was now nearly at an end, and 
Elizabeth had only to suffer from the uncomfortable feelings necessarily 
attending it, and occasionally from some peevish allusion of her mother. 
As for the gentleman himself, his feelings were chiefly expressed, not by 
embarrassment or dejection, or by trying to avoid her, but by stiffness of 
manner and resentful silence. He scarcely ever spoke to her, and the as- 
siduous attentions which he had been so sensible of himself were trans- 
ferred 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 his resentment might shorten his visit, but his plan did 
not appear in the least affected by it. He was always to have gone on 
Saturday, and to Saturday he still meant to stay. 

After breakfast, the girls walked to Mery ton to inquire if Mr. Wickham 
were returned, and to lament over his absence from the Netherfield ball. 
He joined them on their entering the town, and attended them to their 
aunt's, where his regret and vexation, and the concern of everybody, was 
well talked over. To Elizabeth, however, he voluntarily acknowledged 
that the necessity of his absence had been self-imposed. 

"I found," said he, "as the time drew near that I had better not meet 
Mr. Darcy ; that to be in the same room, the same party with him for so 
many hours together, might be more than I could bear, and that scenes 
night 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 commendation 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 advantage ; she felt all the compliment 
it offered to herself, and it was most acceptable as an occasion of intro- 
ducing him to her father and mother. 

Soon after their return, a letter was delivered to Miss Bennet ; it came 
from Netherfield, and was opened immediately. The envelope contained 
a sheet of elegant, little, hot-pressed paper, well covered with a lady's fair, 
flowing hand; and Elizabeth saw her sister's countenance change as she 
read it, and saw her dwelling intently on some particular passages. Jane 



302 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

recollected herself soon, and putting the letter away, tried to join with 
her usual cheerfulness in the general conversation ; but Elizabeth felt an 
anxiety, on the subject which drew off her attention even from Wickham; 
and no sooner had he and his companion taken leave, than a glance from 
Jane invited her to follow her upstairs. When they had gained their own 
room, Jane, taking out her letter, said, "This is from Caroline Bingley ; 
what it contains has surprised me a good deal. The whole party have left 
Netherfield by this time, and are on their way to town and without any 
intention of coming back again. You shall hear what she says." 

She then read the first sentence aloud, which comprised the information 
of their having just resolved to follow their brother to town directly, and 
of their meaning to dine that day in Grosvenor Street, where Mr. Hurst 
had a house. The next was in these words: "I do not pretend to regret 
anything I shall leave in Hertfordshire, except your society, my dearest 
friend ; but we will hope, at some future period, to enjoy many returns of 
that delightful intercourse we have known, and in the meanwhile may 
lessen the pain of separation by a very frequent and most unreserved 
correspondence. I depend on you for that." To these highflown expres- 
sions 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 Netherfield 
would prevent Mr. Bingley's being there; and as to the loss of their so- 
ciety, she was persuaded that Jane must cease to regard it, in the enjoy- 
ment of his. 

"It is unlucky," said she, after a short pause, "that you should not be 
able to see your friends before they leave the country. But may we not 
hope that the period of future happiness to which Miss Bingley looks 
forward may arrive earlier than she is aware, and that the delightful in- 
tercourse you have known as friends will be renewed with yet greater sat- 
isfaction as sisters? Mr. Bingley will not be detained in London by them." 

"Caroline decidedly says that none of the party will return into Hert- 
fordshire this winter. I will read it to you : 

" 'When my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that the business 
which took him to Ldndon 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 acquaintances 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." 



PRIDE AND PREJUDICE 303 

"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 more interesting, from the hope we dare to entertain of her being 
hereafter our sister. I do not know whether I ever before mentioned to 
you my feelings on this subject ; but I will not leave the country without 
confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them unreasonable. My 
brother admires her greatly 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 
anished 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 per- 
fectly convinced of her brother's indifference; and that if she suspects the 
nature of my feelings for him, she means (most kindly! ) to put me on my 
guard? Can there be any other opinion on the subject?" 

"Yes, there can; for mine is totally different. Will you hear it?" 

"Most willingly." 

"You shall have it in a few words. Miss Bingley sees that her brother 
is in love with you, and wants him to marry Miss Darcy. She follows him 
to town in the hope of keeping him there, and tries to persuade you that 
he does not care about you." 

Jane shook her head. 

"Indeed, Jane, you ought to believe me. No one who has ever seen you 
together can doubt his affection. Miss Bingley, I am sure, cannot. She is 
not such a simpleton. Could she have seen half as much love in Mr. Darcy 
for herself, she would have ordered her wedding clothes. But the case is 
this: We are not rich enough or grand enough for them; and she is the 
more anxious to get Miss Darcy for her brother, from the notion that 
when there has been one intermarriage, she 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 04 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

"If we thought alike of Miss Bingley," replied Jane, "your representa- 
tion 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." 

"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 inter- 
ested 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 desponding, and she was gradually led to hope, though the diffi- 
dence of affection sometimes overcame the hope, that Bingley would re- 
turn 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 intimate together. After lamenting 
it, however, at some length, she had the consolation of thinking that Mr. 
Bingley would be soon down again and soon dining at Longbourn, and 
the conclusion of all was the comfortable declaration, that though he had 
been invited only to a family dinner, she would take care to have two full 
courses. 

Chapter 22 

THE Bennets were engaged to dine with the Lucases and again during 
the chief of the day was Miss Lucas so kind as to listen to Mr. Collins. 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 305 

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 else 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 almost sure of success if he had 
not been to leave Hertfordshire so very soon. But here she did injustice 
to the fire and independence of his character, for it led him to escape out 
of Longbourn House the next morning with admirable slyness, and hasten 
to Lucas Lodge to throw himself at her feet. He was anxious to avoid the 
notice of 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 encour- 
aging, he was comparatively diffident since the adventure of Wednesday. 
His reception, however, was of the most flattering kind. Miss Lucas per- 
ceived 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, every- 
thing was settled between them to the satisfaction of both; and as they 
entered the house he earnestly entreated her to name the day that was to 
make him the happiest of men; and though such a solicitation must be 
waived for the present, the lady felt no inclination to trifle with his hap- 
piness. 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 estab- 
lishment were gained. 

Sir William and Lady Lucas were speedily applied to for their consent; 
and it was bestowed with a most joyful alacrity. Mr. Collins's present 
circumstances made it a most eligible match for their daughter, to whom 
they could give little fortune; and his prospects of future wealth were ex- 
ceedingly fair. Lady Lucas began directly to calculate, with more interest 
than the matter had ever excited before, how many years longer Mr. Ben- 
net was likely to live ; and Sir William gave it as his decided opinion, that 
whenever Mr. Collins should be in possession of the Longbourn estate, it 
would be highly expedient that both he and his wife should make their 
appearance at St. James's. The whole family, in short, were properly 
overjoyed on the occasion. The younger girls formed hopes of coming out 
a year or two sooner than they might otherwise have done; and the boys 
were relieved from their apprehension of Charlotte's dying an old maid. 
Charlotte herself was tolerably composed. She had gained her point, and 



5 o6 TH WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

had time to consider of it. Her reflections were in general satisfactory. 
Mr. Collins, to be sure, was neither sensible nor agreeable ; his society was 
irksome, and his attachment to her must be imaginary. But still he would 
be her husband. Without thinking highly either of men or of matrimony, 
marriage had always been her object; it was the only honourable pro- 
vision for well-educated young women of small fortune, and however un- 
certain 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 business was the surprise it must 
occasion to Elizabeth Bennet, whose friendship she valued beyond that 
of any other person. Elizabeth would wonder, and probably would blame 
her; and though her resolution was not to be shaken, her feelings must be 
hurt by such a disapprobation. She resolved to give her the information 
herself, and therefore charged Mr. Collins, when he returned to Long- 
bourn 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 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 cor- 
diality, 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 particularly gratify- 
ing, because it is what I have been hoping to receive ; and you may be 
very certain that I shall avail myself of it as soon as possible." 

They were all astonished; and Mr. Bennet, who could by no means 
wish for so speedy a return, immediately said : 

"But is there not danger of Lady Catherine's disapprobation here, my 
good sir? You had better neglect your relations than run the risk of offend- 
ing your patroness." 

"My dear sir," replied Mr. Collins, "I am particularly obliged to you 
for this friendly caution, and you may depend upon my not taking so 
material a step without her ladyship's concurrence." 

"You cannot be too much on your guard. Risk anything rather than 
her displeasure ; and if you find it likely to be raised by your coming to us 
again, which I should think exceedingly probable, stay quietly at home, 
and be satisfied that we shall take no offence." 

"Believe me, my dear sir, my gratitude is warmly excited, by such 
affectionate attention; and depend upon it, you will speedily receive from 
me a letter of thanks for this, as for every other mark of your regard 
during my stay in Hertfordshire. As for my fair cousins, though my ab- 
sence may not be long enough to render it necessary, I shall now take the 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 30^ 

liberty of wishing them health and happiness, not excepting my cousin 
Elizabeth." 

With proper civilities the ladies then withdrew; all of them equally sur- 
prised 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 any of the others; there was a 
solidity in his reflections which often struck her, and though by no means 
so clever as herself, she thought that if encouraged to read and improve 
himself by such an example as hers, he might become a very agreeable 
companion. But on the following morning, every hope of this kind was 
done away. Miss Lucas called soon after breakfast, and in a private con- 
ference with Elizabeth related the event of the day before. 

The possibility of Mr. Collins's fancying himself in love with her friend 
had once occurred to Elizabeth within the last day or two; but that 
Charlotte could encourage him seemed almost as far from possibility as 
she could encourage him herself, and her astonishment was consequently 
so great as to overcome at first the bounds of decorum, and she could not 
help crying out: 

"Engaged to Mr. Collins! My dear Charlotte impossible!" 

The steady countenance which Miss Lucas had commanded in telling 
her story, gave way to a momentary confusion here on receiving so direct 
a reproach ; though, as it was no more than she expected, she soon regained 
her composure, and calmly replied: 

''Why should you be surprised, my dear Eliza? Do you think it in- 
credible that Mr. Collins should be able to procure any woman's good 
opinion, because he was not so happy as to succeed with you?" 

But Elizabeth had now recollected herself, and making a strong effort 
for it, was able to assure her with tolerable firmness that the prospect 
of their relationship was highly grateful to her, and that she wished her 
all imaginable happiness. 

"I see what you are feeling," replied Charlotte. "You must be surprised, 
very much surprised so lately as Mr. Collins was wishing to marry you. 
But when you have had time to think it all over, I hope you will be satis- 
fied with what I have done. I am not romantic, you know; I never was. I 
ask only a comfortable home; and considering Mr. Collins's character, 
connections, and situation in life, I am convinced that my chance of hap- 
piness 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 long 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 wa< 



3 o8 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

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 humiliat- 
ing 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. 



Chapter 23 

ELIZABETH was sitting with her mother and sisters, reflecting on what 
she had heard, and doubting whether she was authorised to mention it, 
when Sir William Luca's himself appeared, sent by his daughter, to an- 
nounce her engagement to the family. With many compliments to them, 
and much self-gratulation on the prospect of a connection between the 
houses, he unfolded the matter to an audience not merely wondering, 
but incredulous ; for Mrs. Bennet, with more perseverance than politeness, 
protested he must be entirely mistaken; and Lydia, always unguarded 
and often uncivil, boisterously exclaimed: 

"Good Lord! Sir William, how can you tell such a story? Do not you 
know that Mr. Collins wants to marry Lizzy?" 

Nothing less than the complaisance of a courtier could have borne 
without anger such treatment; but Sir William's good breeding carried 
him through it all ; and though he begged leave to be positive as to the 
truth of his information, he listened to all their impertinence with the 
most forbearing courtesy. 

Elizabeth, feeling it incumbent on her to relieve him from so unpleasant 
a situation, now put herself forward to confirm his account, by mention- 
ing her prior knowledge of it from Charlotte herself ; and endeavoured to 
put a stop to the exclamations of her mother and sisters by the earnest- 
ness 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 expected from the match, the excellent character of Mr. Collins, and 
the convenient distance of Hunsford from London. 

Mrs. Bennet was in fact too much overpowered to say a great deal while 
Sir William remained ; but no sooner had 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 to- 
gether; and fourthly, that the match might be broken off. Two inferences, 
however, were plainly deduced from the whole: one, that Elizabeth was 
the real cause of all the mischief ; and the other that she herself had been 
barbarously used by them all: and on these two points she principally 
dwelt during the rest of the day. Nothing could console and 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 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 309 

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 pronounced 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 ever subsist between them again. Her disappointment in 
Charlotte made her turn with fonder regard to her sister, of whose recti- 
tude and delicacy she was sure her opinion could never be shaken, and for 
whose happiness she grew daily more anxious, as Bingley had now been 
gone a week and nothing was heard of his return. 

Jane had sent Caroline an early answer to her letter, and was counting 
the days till she might reasonably hope to hear again. The promised letter 
of thanks from Mr. Collins arrived on Tuesday, addressed to their father, 
and written with all the solemnity of gratitude which a twelvemonth's 
abode in the family might have prompted. After discharging his conscience 
on that head, he proceeded to inform them, with many rapturous expres- 
sions, 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 matter of 
pleasure to Mrs. Bennet. On the contrary, she was as much disposed to 
complain of it as her husband. It was very strange that he should come 
to Longbourn instead of to Lucas Lodge; it was also very inconvenient 
and exceedingly troublesome. She hated having visitors in the house while 
her health was so indifferent, and lovers were of all people the most dis- 



3io THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

agreeable. Such were the gentle murmurs of Mrs. Bennet, and they gave 
way only to the greater distress of Mr. Bingley's continued absence. 

Neither Jane nor Elizabeth were comfortable on this subject. Day after 
day passed away without bringing any other tidings of him than the re- 
port 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 of Jane's happiness, and so dishonour- 
able to the stability of her lover, she could not prevent its frequently 
occurring. The united efforts of his two unfeeling sisters and of his over- 
powering friend, assisted by the attractions of Miss Darcy and the amuse- 
ments of London might be too much, she feared, for the strength of his 
attachment. 

As for Jane, her anxiety under this suspense was, of course, more pain- 
ful than Elizabeth's; but whatever she felt she was desirous of conceal- 
ing, and between herself and Elizabeth, therefore, the subject was never 
alluded to. But as no such delicacy restrained her mother, an hour seldom 
passed in which she did not talk of Bingley, express 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, luckily for the others, the business of love-making relieved them 
from a great deal of his company. The chief of every day was spent by 
him at Lucas Lodge, and he sometimes returned to Longbourn only in 
time to make an apology for his absence before the family went to bed. 

Mrs. Bennet was really in a most pitiable state. The very mention of 
anything concerning the match threw her into an agony of ill-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 regarded 
her with jealous abhorrence. Whenever Charlotte came to see them, she 
concluded her to be anticipating 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 were dead. She com- 
plained 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." 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 311 

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 in- 
sensibility." 

"I never can be thankful, Mr. Bennet, for anything about the entail, 
flow anyone could have the conscience to entail away an estate from one's 
own daughters, I cannot understand ; and all for the sake of Mr. Collins 
too! Why should he have it more than anybody else?" 

"I leave it to yourself to determine," said Mr. Bennet. 



Chapter 24 

Miss BINGLEY'S letter arrived, and put an end to doubt. The very first 
sentence conveyed the assurance of their being all settled in London for 
the winter, and concluded with her brother's regret at not having had 
time to pay his respects to his friends in Hertfordshire before he left the 
country. 

Hope was over, entirely over ; and when Jane could attend to the rest 
of the letter, she found little, except the professed affection of the writer, 
that could give her any comfort. Miss Darcy's praise occupied the chief 
of it. Her many attractions were again dwelt on, and Caroline boasted 
joyfully of their increasing intimacy, and ventured to predict the accom- 
plishment of the wishes which had been unfolded in her former letter. 
She wrote also with great pleasure of her brother's being an inmate of Mr. 
Darcy's house, and mentioned with raptures some plans of the latter with 
regard to new furniture. 

Elizabeth, to whom Jane very soon 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 without contempt, on that easiness of temper, that 
want of proper resolution, which now made him the slave of his designing 
Hends, and led him to sacrifice his own happiness to the caprice of their 
inclinations. Had his own happ-'ness, 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 subject, in short, on which reflection would be long 
indulged, and must be unavailing. Sh* could think of nothing else; and 



$12 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

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 ; whatever were the case, though 
her opinion of him must be materially affected by the difference, her 
sister's situation remained the same, her peace equally wounded. 

A day or two passed before Jane had courage to speak of her feelings 
to Elizabeth; but at last, on Mrs. Bennet's leaving them together, after a 
longer irritation than usual about Nether field and its master, she could 
not help saying: 

"Oh, that my dear mother had more command over herself! She can 
have no idea of the pain she gives me by her continual reflections on him. 
But I will not repine. It cannot last long. He will be forgot, and we shall 
all be as we were before." 

Elizabeth looked at her sister with incredulous solicitude, but said 
nothing. 

"You doubt me," cried Jane, slightly colouring; "indeed you have no 
reason. He may live in my 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 have not that pain. A little 
time therefore I shall certainly try to get the better." 

With a stronger voice she soon added, "I have this comfort immediately, 
that it has not been more than an error of fancy on my side, and that it 
has done no harm to anyone but myself." 

"My dear Jane!" exclaimed Elizabeth, "you are too good. Your sweet- 
ness and disinterestedness are really angelic; I do not know what to say to 
you. I feel as if I had never done you justice, or loved you as you deserve." 

Miss Bennet eagerly disclaimed all extraordinary merit, and threw back 
the praise on her sister's warm affection. 

"Nay," said Elizabeth, "this is not fair. You wish to think all the world 
respectable, and are hurt if I speak ill of anybody. / only want to think 
you perfect, and you set yourself against it. Do not be afraid of my run- 
ning into any excess, of my encroaching on your privilege of universal 
good-will. You need not. There are few people whom I really love, and 
still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more 
am I dissatisfied with it ; and every day confirms my belief of the incon- 
sistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be 
placed on the appearance of either merit or sense. I have met with two 
instances lately, one I will not mention; the other is Charlotte's 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." 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 313 

"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 under- 
standing than I now do of her heart. My dear Jane, Mr. Collins is a con- 
ceited, 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 your- 
self or me, that selfishness 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 men- 
tioned two instances. I cannot misunderstand you, but I entreat you, dear 
Lizzy, not to pain me by thinking that person to blame, and saying your 
opinion of him is sunk. We must not be so ready to fancy ourselves inten- 
tionally 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 scheming to do wrong, or to make others 
unhappy, there may be error, and there may be misery. Thoughtlessness, 
want of attention to other people's feelings, and want of resolution, will 
do the business." 

"And do you impute it to either of those?" 

"Yes ; to the last. But if I go on, I shall displease you by saying \ hat I 
think of persons you esteem. Stop me whilst you can." 

"You persist, then, in supposing his sisters influence him?" 

" Ves, in conjunction with his friend." 

"'l 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 
connections, and pride." 

"Beyond a doubt, they do wish him to choose Miss Darcy," replied 
Jane; "but this may be from better feelings than you are supposing. They 
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 



3 i4 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

think herself at liberty to do it, unless there were something very objec- 
tionable? 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 light, 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 transient 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 be crossed in love a little now and then. It is some- 
thing to think of, and gives her a sort of distinction among her com- 
panions. When is your turn to come? You will hardly bear to be long 
outdone by Jane. Now is your time. Here are officers enough at Meryton 
to disappoint all the young ladies in the country. Let Wickham be your 
man. He is a pleasant fellow, and would jilt you creditably." 

"Thank you, sir, but a less agreeable man would satisfy me. We must 
not all expect Jane's good fortune." 

"True," said Mr. Bennet, "but it is a comfort to think that whatever 
of that kind may befall you, you have an affectionate mother who will 
always make the most of it." 

Mr. Wickham's society was of material service in dispelling the gloom 
which the late perverse occurrences had thrown on many of the Longbourn 
family. They saw him often, and to his other recommendations was now 
added that of general unreserve. The whole of what Elizabeth had 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 allow- 
ances, and urged the possibility of mistakes but by everybody else Mr. 
Darcy was condemned as the worst of men. 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 3 iS 

Chapter 25 

AFTER a week spent in professions of love and schemes of felicity, Mr. 
Collins was called from his amiable Charlotte by the arrival of Saturday. 
The pain of separation, however, might be 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 warehouses, 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, elegant woman, 
and a great favourite with all her Longbourn nieces. Between the two 
eldest and herself especially, there subsisted a very particular regard. 
They had frequently been staying with her in town. 

The first part of Mrs. Gardiner's business on her arrival was to dis<. 
tribute her presents and describe the newest fashions. When this wa3 
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 correspondence with her, made her 
sister a slight answer, and, in compassion to her nieces, turned the con- 
versation. 

When alone with Elizabeth afterwards, she spoke more on the subject. 



316 THZ WORKS OF JANE AUSTEiN 

"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 girl for 
a few weeks, and when accident separates them, so easily forgets her, that 
these sort of inconsistencies are very frequent." 

"An excellent consolation in its way," said Elizabeth, "but it will not 
do for us. We do not suffer by accident. It does not often happen that the 
interference of friends will persuade a young man of independent fortune 
to think no more of a girl whom he was violently in love with only a few 
days before." 

"But that expression of Violently in love' is so hackneyed, so doubtful, 
so indefinite, that it gives me very little idea. It is as often applied to 
feelings which arise from an half-hour's acquaintance, as to a real, strong 
attachment. Pray, how violent was Mr. Bingley's love?" 

"I never saw a more promising inclination; he was growing quite in- 
attentive to other people, and wholly engrossed by her. Every time they 
met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball he offended two 
or three young ladies, by not asking them to dance ; and I spoke to him 
twice myself, without receiving an answer. Could there be finer symp- 
toms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?" 

"Oh, yes! of that kind of love which I suppose him to have felt. Poor 
Jane! I am sorry for her, because, with her disposition, she may not get 
over it immediately. It had better have happened to you, Lizzy; you 
would have laughed yourself out of it sooner. But do you think she would 
be prevailed on to go back with us? Change of scene might be of service 
and perhaps a little relief from home may be as useful as anything. 3 ' 

Elizabeth was exceedingly pleased with this proposal, and felt per- 
suaded of her sister's ready acquiescence. 

"I hope," added Mrs. Gardiner, "that no consideration with regard to 
this young man will influence her. We live in so different a part of town, 
all our connections are so different, and, as you well know, we go out so 
little, that it is very improbable that they should meet at a.11, unless he 
really comes to see her." 

"And that is quite impossible ; for he is now in the custody of his friend, 
and Mr. Darcy would no more suffer him to call on Jane in such a part of 
London! My dear aunt, how could you think of it? Mr. Darcy may per- 
haps have heard of such a place as Gracechurch Street, but he would 
hardly think a month's ablution enough to cleanse him from its impuri- 
ties, were he once to enter it ; and depend upon it, Mr. Bingley never stirs 
without him." 

"So much the better. I hope they will not meet at all. But does not Jane 
correspond with his sister? She will not be able to help calling." 

"She will drop the acquaintance entirely." 

But in spite of the certainty in which Elizabeth affected to place this 
point, as well as the still more interesting one of Bingley's being withheld 
from seeing Jane, she felt a solicitude on the subject which convinced her. 



PRIDE AND PREJUDICE 317 

on examination, that she did not consider it entirely hopeless. It was 
possible, and sometimes she thought it probable, that his affection might 
be reanimated, and the influence of his friends successfully combated by 
the more natural influence of Jane's attractions. 

Miss Bennet accepted her aunt's invitation with pleasure; and the 
Bingleys were no otherwise in her thoughts at the same time, than as she 
hoped by Caroline's not living in the same house with her brother, she 
might occasionally spend a morning with her, without any danger of 
seeing him. 

The Gardiners stayed a week at Longbourn; and what with the 
Philipses, the Lucases, and the officers, there was not a day without its 
engagement. Mrs. Bennet had so carefully provided for the entertainment 
of her brother and sister, that they did not once sit down to a family 
dinner. When the engagement was for home, some of the officers always 
made part of it of which officers Mr. Wicknam was sure to be one ; and 
on these occasions, Mrs. Gardiner, rendered suspicious by Elizabeth's 
warm commendation of him, narrowly observed them both. Without sup- 
posing them, from what she saw, to be very seriously in love, their prefer- 
ence of each other was plain enough to make her a little uneasy ; and she 
resolved to speak to Elizabeth on the subject before she left Hertford- 
shire, and represent to her the imprudence of encouraging such an attach- 
ment. 

To Mrs. Gardiner, Wickham had one means of affording pleasure, 
unconnected with his general powers. About ten or a dozen years ago, 
before her marriage, she had spent a considerable time in that very part 
of Derbyshire to which he belonged. They had, therefore, many acquaint- 
ance 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 consequently was an inexhaustible subject 
of discourse. In comparing her recollection of Pemberley with the minute 
description which Wickham could give, and in bestowing her tribute of 
praise on the character of its late possessor, she was delighting both him 
and herself. On being made acquainted with the present Mr. Darcy's 
treatment of him, she tried to remember something of that gentleman's 
reputed disposition when quite a lad which might agree with it, and was 
confident at last that she recollected having heard Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy 
formerly spoken of as a very proud, ill-natured boy. 

Chapter 26 

MRS. GARDINER'S caution to Elizabeth 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: 



318 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

"You are too sensible a girl, Lizzy, to fall in love merely because you are 
warned against it; and, therefore, I am not afraid of speaking openly. 
Seriously, I would have you be on your guard. Do not involve yourself 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 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." 

"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! that abominable Mr. Darcy! My father's opinion of me does me 
the greatest honour, and I should be miserable to forfeit it. My father, 
however, is partial to Mr. Wickham. In short, my dear aunt, I should be 
very sorry to be the means of making any of you unhappy ; but since we 
see every day that where there is affection, young people are seldom 
withheld by immediate want of fortune from entering into engagements 
with each other, how can I promise to be wiser than so many of my fellow- 
creatures if I am tempted, or how am I even to know that it would be 
wisdom to resist? All that I can promise you, therefore, is not to be in a 
hurry. I will not be in a hurry to believe myself his first object. When I 
am in company with him, I will not be wishing. In short, I will do my 
best." 

"Perhaps it will be as well if you discourage his coming here so very 
often. At least, you should not remind your mother of inviting him." 

"As I did the other day," said Elizabeth with a conscious smile: "very 
true, it will be wise in me to refrain from that. But do not imagine that 
he is always here so often. It is on your account that he has been so 
frequently invited this week. You know 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 the 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 after it had been quitted 



PRIDE AND PREJUDICE 319 

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 sincerely affected herself, accompanied her out of the 
room. As they went downstairs together, Charlotte said : 

"I shall depend on hearing from you very often, Eliza." 

"That you certainly shall." 

"And I have another 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. 

"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 
correspondence was as regular and frequent as it had ever been; that it 
should be equally unreserved was impossible. Elizabeth could never ad- 
dress 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. Charlotte'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 pronounce herself to be; 
though, when the letters were read, Elizabeth felt that Charlotte expressed 
herself on every point exactly as she might have foreseen. She wrote 
cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts, and mentioned nothing 
which she could not praise. The house, furniture, 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 Elizabeth perceived that she must wait 
for her own visit there to know the rest. 

Jane had already written a few lines to her sister to announce their 
safe arrival in London; and when she wrote again, Elizabeth hoped it 
would be in her power to say something of the Bingleys. 

Her impatience for this second letter was as well rewarded as im- 
patience generally is. Jane had been a week in town without either seeing 
or hearing from Caroline. She accounted for it, however, by supposing that 



320 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

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 was paid, and she had seen Miss Bingley. 
"I did not think Caroline in spirits," were her words, "but she was very 
glad to see me, and reproached me for giving her no notice of my coming 
to London. I was right, therefore, my last letter had never reached her. I 
inquired after their brother, of course. He was well, but so much engaged 
with Mr. Darcy that they scarcely ever saw him. I found that Miss Darcy 
was expected to dinner. I wish I could see her. My visit was not long, as 
Caroline and Mrs. Hurst were going out. I dare say I shall soon see them 
here." 

Elizabeth shook her head over this letter. It convinced her that accident 
only could discover to Mr. Bingley her sister's being in town. 

Four weeks 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. 

"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 pity, though I cannot help blaming 
her. She was very wrong in singling me out as she did ; I can safely say 
that every advance to intimacy began on her side. But I pity her, because 
she must feel that she has been acting wrong, and because I am very sure 
that anxiety for her brother is the cause of it. I need not explain myself 
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 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 321 

such fears now, because, if he had at all cared about me, we must have 
met long, long ago. He knows of my being in town, I am certain, from 
something she said herself; and yet it would seem, by her manner of 
talking, as if she wanted to persuade 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 appear- 
ance of duplicity in all this. But 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 character 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 Wickham'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 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 Eliza- 
beth, less clear-sighted perhaps in this case than in Charlotte's, did not 
quarrel with him for his wish of independence. Nothing, on the contrary, 
could be more natural ; and while able to suppose that it cost him a few 
struggles to relinquish her, she was ready to allow it a wise and desirable 
measure for both, and could very sincerely wish him happy. 

All this was acknowledged to Mrs. Gardiner; and after relating the 
circumstances, she thus went on: "I am now convinced, my dear aunt, 
that I have never been much in love; for had I really experienced that 
pure and elevating passion, I should at present detest his very name, and 
wish him all manner of evil. But my feelings are not only cordial towards 
him; they are even impartial towards Miss King. I cannot find out that I 
hate her at all, or that I am in the least unwilling to think her a very good 



322 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

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 acquaintances 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 27 

WITH no greater events than these in the Longbourn family, and 
otherwise diversified by little beyond the walks to Meryton, sometimes 
dirty and sometimes cold, did January and February pass away. March 
was to take Elizabeth to Hunsford. She had not at first thought very 
seriously of going thither; but Charlotte, she soon found, was depending 
on the plan, and she gradually learned to consider it herself with 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 journey would moreover give her a 
peep at Jane ; and, in short, as the time drew near, she would have been 
very sorry for any delay. Everything, however, went on smoothly, and 
was finally settled according to Charlotte's first sketch. She was to ac- 
company Sir William and his second daughter. The improvement of 
spending a night in London was added in time, and the plan became 
perfect as plan could be. 

The only pain was in leaving her father, who would certainly miss her, 
and who, when it came to the point, so little liked her going, that he told 
her to write to him, and almost promised to answer her letter. 

The farewell between herself and Mr. Wickham was perfectly friendly; 
on his side even more. His present pursuit could not make him forget that 
Elizabeth had been the first to excite and to deserve his attention, the 
first to listen and to pity, the first to be admired ; and in his manner of 
bidding her adieu, wishing her every enjoyment, reminding her of what 
she was to expect in Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and trusting their opinion 
of her their opinion of everybody would always coincide, there was a 
solicitude, an interest which she felt must ever attach her to him with a 
most sincere regard; and she parted from him convinced that, whether 
married or single, he must always be her model of the amiable and- 
pleasing. 

Her fellow-travellers the next day were not of a kind to make her think 
him less agreeable. Sir William Lucas, and his daughter Maria, a good- 
humoured girl, but as empty-headed as himself, had nothing to say that 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 323 

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, however, to hope that 
they would not continue long. Mrs. Gardiner gave her the particulars 
also of Miss Bingley's visit in Gracechurch Street, and repeated conversa- 
tions occurring at different times between Jane and herself, 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 matrimonial affairs, 
between the mercenary and the prudent motive? Where does discretion 
end, and avarice begin? Last Christmas you were afraid of his marrying 
me, because it would be imprudent ; and now, because he is trying to get 
a girl with only ten thousand pounds, you want to find out that he is 
mercenary." 

"If you will only tell me what sort of girl Miss King is, I shall know 
what to think." 

"She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I know no harm of her." 

"But he paid her not the smallest attention till her grandfather's death 
made her mistress of this fortune." 

Nb 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 attention towards her so 
soon after this event." 

"A man in distressed circumstances has not time for all those elegant 



324 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

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." 

"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 manner 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 rocks and 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 will know where we have 
gone we will recollect what we have seen. Lakes, mountains, and rivers 
shall not be jumbled together in our imaginations; nor when we attempt 
to describe any particular scene, will we begin quarrelling about its 
relative situation. Let our first effusions be less insupportable than those 
of the generality of travellers." 



Chapter 28 

EVERY object in the next day's journey was new and interesting to 
Elizabeth; and her spirits were in a state of enjoyment; for she had 
seen her sister looking so well as to banish all fear for her health, and 
the prospect of her northern tour was a 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. Eliza- 
beth smiled at the recollection of all that she had heard of its inhabitants. 

At length the Parsonage was discernible. The garden sloping to the 
road, the house standing in it, the green pales, and the laurel hedge, 



PRIDEANDPREJUDlCE 325 

everything declared they were arriving. Mr. Collins and Charlotte ap- 
peared 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 reasonably be ashamed, which 
certainly was not unseldom, she involuntarily turned her eye on Charlotte. 
Once or twice she could discern a faint blush; but in general Charlotte 
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 himself. To work in his 
garden was one of his most respectable 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 every walk and cross walk, and scarcely 
allowing them an interval to utter the praises he asked for, every view 
was pointed out with a minuteness which left beauty entirely 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 



326 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

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 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 Cath- 
erine 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 hesitation in saying that she will in- 
clude you and my sister Maria in every invitation with which she honours 
us during your stay here. Her behaviour to my dear Charlotte is charm- 
ing. 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 neighbour." 

"Very true, my dear, that is exactly what I say. She is the sort of woman 
whom one cannot regard with too much deference." 

The evening was spent chiefly in talking over Hertfordshire news, and 
telling again what had been already written ; and when it closed, Eliza- 
beth, in the solitude of her chamber, had to meditate upon Charlotte's 
degree of contentment, to understand her address in guiding, and com- 
posure in bearing with, her husband, and to acknowledge that it was all 
done very well. She had also to anticipate how her visit would pass, the 
quiet tenor of their usual employments, the vexatious interruptions of 
Mr. Collins, and the 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 con- 
fusion ; and, after listening a moment, she heard somebody running up- 
stairs in a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her. She opened the door 
and met Maria in the landing place, who, breathless with agitation, cried 
out 

"Oh, my dear Eliza! pray make haste and come into the dining-room, 
for there is such a sight to be seen! I will not tell you what it is. Make 
haste, and come down this moment." 

Elizabeth asked questions in vain ; Maria would tell her nothing more, 
and down they ran into the dining-room, which fronted the lane, in quest 
of this wonder ! It was two ladies stopping in a low phaeton at the garden 
gate. 

"And is this all?" cried Elizabeth. "I expected at least that the pigs 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 327 

were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady Catherine and her 
daughter!" 

"La! my dear," said Maria, quite shocked at the mistake, "it is not 
Lady Catherine. The old lady is Mrs. Jenkinson, who lives with them; the 
other is Miss de Bourgh. Only look at her. She is quite a little creature. 
Who would have thought she could be so thin and small!" 

"She is abominably rude to keep Charlotte out of doors in all this wind. 
Why does she not come in?" 

"Oh, Charlotte says she hardly ever does. It is the greatest of favours 
when Miss de Bourgh comes in." 

"I like her appearance," said Elizabeth, struck with other ideas. "She 
looks sickly and cross. Yes, she will do for him very well. She will make 
him a very proper wife." 

Mr. Collins and Charlotte were both standing at the gate in conversa- 
tion with the ladies ; and Sir William, to Elizabeth's high diversion, was 
stationed in the doorway, in earnest contemplation of the greatness 
before him, and constantly bowing whenever Miss de Bourgh looked that 
way. 

At length there was nothing more to be said ; the ladies drove on, and 
the others returned into the house. Mr. Collins no sooner saw the two girls 
than he began to congratulate them on their good fortune, which Char- 
lotte explained by letting them know that the whole party was asked to 
dine at Rosings the next day. 



Chapter 29 

MR. COLLINS 's triumph, in consequence of this invitation, was com- 
plete. The power of displaying the grandeur of his patroness to his won- 
dering visitors, and of letting them see her civility towards himself and 
his wife, was exactly what he had wished for; and that an opportunity 
of doing it should be given so soon, was such an instance of Lady Cath- 
erine's condescension, as he knew not how to admire enough. 

"I confess," said he, "that I should not have been at all surprised by her 
ladyship's asking us on Sunday to drink tea and spend the evening at 
Rosings. I rather expected, from my knowledge of her affability, that it 
would happen. But who could have foreseen such an attention as this? 
Who could have imagined that we should receive an invitation to dine 
there (an invitation, moreover, including the whole party) so immediately 
after your arrival!" 

"I am the less surprised at what has happened," replied Sir William, 
"from that knowledge of what the manners of the great really are, which 
my situation in life has allowed me to acquire. About the court, such in- 
stances of elegant breeding are not uncommon." 

Scarcely anything was talked of the whole day or next morning but 
their visit to Rosings. Mr. Collins was carefully instructing them in what 



328 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

they were to expect, that the sight of such rooms, so many servants, and 
so splendid a dinner, might not wholly overpower them. 

When the ladies were separating for the toilette, he said to Elizabeth 

"Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your apparel. 
Lady Catherine is far from requiring that elegance of dress in us which 
becomes herself and daughter. I would advise you merely to put on what- 
ever of your clothes is superior to the rest there is no occasion for any- 
thing more. Lady Catherine will not think the worse of you for being 
simply dressed. She likes to have the distinction of rank preserved." 

While they were dressing, he came two or three times to their different 
doors, to recommend their being quick, as Lady Catherine very much 
objected to be kept waiting for her dinner. Such formidable accounts of 
her ladyship, and her manner of living, quite frightened Maria Lucas, 
who had been little used to company, and she looked forward to her in- 
troduction at Rosings with as much apprehension as her father had done 
to his presentation at St. James's. 

As the weather was fine, they had a pleasant walk of about half a mile 
across the park. Every park has its beauty and its prospects; and Eliza- 
beth saw much to be pleased with, though she could not be in such rap- 
tures as Mr. Collins expected the scene to inspire, and was but slightly 
affected by his enumeration of the windows in front of the house, and his 
relation of what the glazing altogether had originally cost Sir Lewis de 
Bourgh. 

When they ascended the steps to the hall, Maria's alarm was every mo- 
ment increasing, and even Sir William did not look perfectly calm. Eliza- 
beth's courage did not fail her. She had heard nothing of Lady Catherine 
that spoke her awful from any extraordinary talents or miraculous virtue, 
and the mere stateliness of money and rank she thought she could witness 
without trepidation. 

From the entrance-hall, of which Mr. Collins pointed out, with a rap- 
turous air, the fine proportion and finished ornaments, they followed the 
servants through an ante-chamber, to the room where Lady Catherine, 
her daughter, and Mrs. Jenkinson were sitting. Her ladyship', with great 
condescension, arose to receive them; and as Mrs. Collins had settled it 
with her husband that the office of introduction should be hers, it was per- 
formed in a proper manner, without any of those apologies and thanks 
which he would have thought necessary. 

In spite of having been at St. James's Sir William was so completely 
awed by the grandeur surrounding him, that he had but just courage 
enough to make a very low bow, and take his seat without saying a word ; 
and his daughter, frightened almost out of her senses, sat on the edge of 
her chair, not knowing which way to look. Elizabeth found herself quite 
equal to the scene, and could observe the three ladies before her com- 
posedly. Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman, with strongly-marked 
features, which might once have been handsome. Her air was not con- 
ciliating ; nor was her manner of receiving them such as to make her 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 329 

visitors forget their inferior rank. She was not rendered formidable by 
silence ; but whatever she said was spoken in so authoritative a tone, as 
marked her self-importance, and brought Mr. Wickham immediately 
to Elizabeth's mind; and from the observation of the day altogether, she 
believed Lady Catherine to be exactly what he had represented. 

When, after examining the mother, in whose countenance and deport- 
ment she soon found some resemblance of Mr. Darcy, she turned her eyes 
on the daughter, she could almost have joined in Maria's astonishment at 
her being so thin and so small. There was neither in figure nor face any 
likeness between the ladies. Miss de Bourgh was pale and sickly; her 
features, though not plain, were insignificant; and she spoke very little, 
except in a low voice, to Mrs. Jenkinson, in whose appearance there was 
nothing remarkable, and who was entirely engaged in listening to what she 
said, and placing a screen in the proper direction before her eyes. 

After sitting a few minutes, they were all sent to one of the windows to 
admire the view, Mr. Collins attending them to point out its beauties, and 
Lady Catherine kindly informing them that it was much better worth 
looking at in the summer. 

The dinner was exceedingly handsome, and there were all the servants 
and all the articles of plate which Mr. Collins had promised ; and, as he 
had likewise foretold, he took his seat at the bottom of the table, by her 
ladyship's desire, and looked as if he felt that life could furnish nothing 
greater. He carved, and ate, and praised with delighted alacrity; and 
every dish was commended, first by him and then by Sir William, who was 
now enough recovered to echo whatever his son-in-law said, in a manner 
which Elizabeth wondered Lady Catherine could bear. But Lady Cath- 
erine seemed gratified by their excessive admiration, and gave most gra- 
cious smiles, especially when any dish on the table proved a novelty to 
them. The party did not supply much conversation. Elizabeth was ready 
to speak whenever there was an opening, but she was seated between 
Charlotte and Miss de Bourgh the former of whom was engaged in 
listening to Lady Catherine, and the latter said not a word to her all 
dinner-time. Mrs. Jenkinson was chiefly employed in watching how little 
Miss de Bourgh ate, pressing her to try some other dish, and fearing she 
was indisposed. Maria thought speaking out of the question, and the 
gentlemen did nothing but eat and admire. 

When the ladies returned to the drawing-room, there was little to be 
done but to hear Lady Catherine talk, which she did without any inter- 
mission till coffee came in, delivering her opinion on every subject in so 
decisive a manner, as proved that she was not used to have her judgment 
controverted. She inquired into Charlotte's domestic concerns familiarly 
and minutely, and gave her a great deal of advice as to the management 
of them all; told her how everything ought to be regulated in so small 
a family as hers, and instructed her as to the care of her cows and her 
poultry. Elizabeth found that nothing was beneath this great lady's at- 
tention, which could furnish her with an occasion of dictating to others. In 



330 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

the intervals of her discourse with Mrs. Collins, she addressed a variety 
of questions to Maria and Elizabeth, but especially to the latter, of 
whose connections she knew the least, and who she observed to Mrs. 
Collins was a very genteel, pretty kind of girl. She asked her, at different 
times, how many sisters she had, whether they were older or younger 
than herself, whether any of them were likely to be married, whether 
they were handsome, where they had been educated, what carriage her 
father kept, and what had been her mother's maiden name? Elizabeth 
felt all the impertinence of her questions but answered them very com- 
posedly. Lady Catherine then observed, 

"Your father's estate is entailed on Mr. Collins, I think. For your 
sake," turning to Charlotte, "I am glad of it; but otherwise I see no oc- 
casion for entailing estates from the female line. It was not thought neces- 
sary in Sir Lewis de Bourgh's family. Do you play and sing, Miss 
Bennet?" 

"A little." 

"Oh! then some time or other we shall be happy to hear you. Our 

instrument is a capital one, probably superior tc You shall try it 

some day. Do your sisters play and sing?" 

"One of them does." 

"Why did not you all learn? You ought all to have learned. The Miss 
Webbs all play, and their father has not so good an income as yours. Do 
you draw?" 

"No, not at all." 

"What, none of you?" 

"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 had no objection, but my father hates 
London." 

"Has your governess left you?" 

"We never had any governess." 

"No governess! How was that possible? Five daughters brought up at 
home without a governess! I never heard of such a thing. Your mother 
must have been quite a slave to your education." 

Elizabeth could hardly help smiling as she 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." 

"Aye, 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 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 331 

one. I always say that nothing is to be done in education without steady 
and regular instruction, and nobody but a governess can give it. It is 
wonderful how many families 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 merely accidentally mentioned to me, and the family are quite de- 
lighted with her. Mrs. Collins, did I tell you of Lady Metcalf 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 
at the first. And to be kept back on such a motive! I think it would not be 
very likely to promote sisterly affection or delicacy of mind." 

"Upon my word," said her ladyship, "you give your opinion very de- 
cidedly for so young a person. Pray, what is your age?" 

"With three younger sisters grown up," replied Elizabeth, smiling, 
"your ladyship can hardly expect me to own it." 

Lady Catherine seemed quite astonished at not receiving a direct an- 
swer ; and Elizabeth suspected herself to be the first creature who had ever 
dared to trifle with so much dignified impertinence. 

"You cannot be more than twenty, I am sure, therefore you need not 
conceal your age." 

"I am not one-and-twenty." 

When the gentlemen had joined them, and tea was over, the card- 
tables were placed. Lady Catherine, Sir William, and Mr. and Mrs. 
Collins sat down to quadrille; and as Miss de Bourgh chose to play at 
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 ex- 
pressed her fears of Miss de Bourgh's being too hot or too cold, or having 
too much or too little light. A great deal more passed at the other table. 
Lady Catherine was generally speaking stating the mistakes of the 
three others, or relating some anecdote of herself. Mr. Collins was em- 
ployed in agreeing to everything her ladyship said, thanking her for every 
fish he won, and apologising if he thought he won too many. Sir William 
did not say much. He was storing his memory with anecdotes and noble 
names. 



332 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

When Lady Catherine and her daughter had played as long as they 
chose, the tables were broken up, the carriage was offered to Mrs. Collins, 
gratefully accepted and immediately ordered. The party then gathered 
round the fire to hear Lady Catherine determine what weather they were 
to have on the morrow. From these instructions they were summoned by 
the arrival of the coach ; and with many speeches of thankfulness on Mr. 
Collins's side and as many bows on Sir William's, they departed. As soon 
as they had driven from the door, Elizabeth was called on by her cousin to 
give her opinion of all that she had seen at Rosings, which, for Charlotte's 
sake, she made more favourable than it really was. But her commenda- 
tion, 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 30 

SIR WILLIAM stayed only a week at Hunsford, but his visit was long 
enough to convince him of his daughter's being most comfortably settled, 
and of her possessing such a husband and such a neighbour as were not 
often met with. While Sir William was with them, Mr. Collins devoted 
his morning to driving him out in his gig, and showing him the country ; 
but when he went away, the whole family returned to their usual employ- 
ments, 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 the window in his own book-room, 
which fronted the road. 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 
more pleasant 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 lane, and 
were indebted to Mr. Collins for the knowledge of what carriages went 
-along, and how often especially Miss de Bourgh drove by in her phaeton, 
which he never failed coming to inform them of, though it happened al- 
most every day. She not unfrequently stopped at the Parsonage, and had 
a few minutes' conversation with Charlotte, but was scarcely ever pre- 
vailed on to get out. 

Very few days passed in which Mr. Collins did not walk to Rosings, and 
not many in which his wife did not think it necessary to go likewise ; and 
till Elizabeth recollected that there might be other family livings to be 
disposed of, she could not understand the sacrifice of so many hours. Now 
and then they were honoured with a call from her ladyship, and nothing 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 333 

escaped her observation 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 furni- 
ture; or detected the housemaid in negligence; and if she accepted any 
refreshment, seemed to do it only for the sake of finding out that Mrs. 
Collins's joints of meat were too large for her family. 

Elizabeth soon perceived, that though this great lady was not in the 
commission of the peace of the county, she was a most active magistrate 
in her own parish, the minutest concerns of which were carried to her by 
Mr. Collins ; and whenever any of the cottagers were disposed to be quar- 
relsome, discontented, or too poor, she sallied forth into the village to 
settle their differences, silence their complaints, and scold them into har- 
mony and plenty. 

The entertainment of dining at Rosings was repeated about twice a 
week ; and, allowing for the loss of Sir William, and there being only one 
card-table in the evening, every such 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 Collins's reach. This, however, 
was no evil to Elizabeth, and upon the whole she spent her time comfort- 
ably enough ; there were half -hours of pleasant conversation with Char- 
lotte, 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 fre- 
quently 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 addi- 
tion 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 acquaintances 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 Lady 
Catherine, who talked of his coming with the greatest satisfaction, spoke 
of him in terms of the highest admiration, and seemed almost angry to 
find that he had already been frequently seen by Miss Lucas and herself. 

His arrival was soon known at the Parsonage ; for Mr. Collins was walk- 
ing the whole morning within view of the lodges opening into Hunsford 
Lane, in order to have the earliest assurance of it, and after making his 
bow as the carriage turned into the Park, hurried home with the great in- 
telligence. On the following morning he hastened to Rosings to pay his 
respects. There were two nephews of Lady Catherine to require them, for 
Mr. Darcy had brought with him a Colonel Fitzwilliam, the younger son 
of his uncle Lord , and, to the great surprise of all the party, when 



334 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

Mr. Collins returned, the gentlemen accompanied him. Charlotte had 
seen them from her husband's room, crossing the road, and immediately 
running into the other, told the girls what an honour they might expect, 
adding: 

"I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy would 
never have come so soon to wait upon me." 

Elizabeth had scarcely time to disclaim all right to the compliment, 
before their approach was announced by the door-bell, and shortly after- 
wards the three gentlemen entered the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who 
led the way, was about thirty, not handsome, but in person and address 
most truly the gentleman. Mr. Darcy looked just as he had been used to 
look in Hertfordshire paid his compliments, with his usual reserve, to 
Mrs. Collins, and whatever might be his feelings towards her friend, met 
her with every appearance of composure. Elizabeth merely curtseyed to 
him without saying a word. 

Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversation directly with the readi- 
ness and ease of a well-bred man, and talked very pleasantly; but his 
cousin, after having addressed a slight observation on the house and gar- 
den to Mrs. Collins, sat for some time without speaking to anybody. At 
length, however, his civility was so far awakened as to inquire of Elizabeth 
after the health of her family. She answered him in the usual way, and 
after a moment's pause, added : 

"My eldest sister has been in town these three months. Have you never 
happened to see her there?" 

She was perfectly sensible that he never had; but she wished to see 
whether he would betray any consciousness of what had passed between 
the Bingleys and Jane, and she thought he looked a little confused as he 
answered that he had never been so fortunate as to meet Miss Bennet. The 
subject was pursued no farther, and the gentlemen soon afterwards went 
away. 

Chapter 31 

COLONEL FITZ WILLIAM'S manners were very much admired at the 
Parsonage, and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the 
pleasure of their engagements at Rosings. It was some days, however, 
before they received any invitation thither for while there were visitors 
in the house, they could not be necessary ; and it was not till Easter-day, 
almost a week after the gentlemen's arrival, that they were honoured by 
such an attention, and then they were merely asked on leaving church to 
come there in the evening. For the last week they had seen very little 
t)f either Lady Catherine or her daughter. Colonel Fitzwilliam had called 
at the Parsonage more than once during the time, but Mr. Darcy they 
had only seen at church. 

The invitation was accepted of course, and at a proper hour they joined 
the party in Lady Catherine's drawing-room. Her ladyship received them 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 335 

civilly, but it was plain that their company was by no means so acceptable 
as when she could get nobody else ; and she was, in fact, almost engrossed 
by her nephews, speaking to them, especially to Darcy, much more than 
to any other person in the room. 

Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed really glad to see them; anything was a 
welcome relief to him at Rosings; and Mrs. Collins's pretty friend had 
moreover caught his fancy very much. He now seated himself by her, and 
talked so agreeably of Kent and Hertfordshire, of travelling and staying 
at home, of new books and music, that Elizabeth had never been half so 
well entertained in that room before; and they conversed with so much 
spirit and flow, as to draw the attention of Lady Catherine herself, as well 
as of Mr. Darcy. His eyes had been soon and repeatedly turned towards 
them with a look of curiosity; and that her ladyship, after a while, shared 
the feeling, was more openly acknowledged, for she did not scruple to call 
out: 

"What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking 
of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is." 

"We are speaking of music, madam," said he, when no longer able to 
avoid a reply. 

"Of music! Then pray speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I 
must have my share in the conversation if you are speaking of music. 
There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoy- 
ment of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, 
I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health 
had allowed her to apply. I am confident that she would have performed 
delightfully. How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?" 

Mr. Darcy spoke with affectionate praise of his sister's proficiency. 

"I am very glad to hear such a good account of her," said Lady Cather- 
ine ; "and pray tell her from me, that she cannot expect to excel if she 
does not practise a great deal." 

"I assure you, madam," he replied, "that she does not need such advice. 
She practises very constantly." 

"So much the better. It cannot be done too much; and when I next 
write to her, I shall charge her not to neglect it on any account. I often 
tell young ladies that no excellence in music is to be acquired without 
constant practice. I have told Miss Bennet several times, that she will 
never play really well unless she practises more ; and though Mrs. Collins 
has no instrument, she is very welcome, as I have often told her, to come 
to Rosings every day, and play on the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson's 
room. She would be in nobody's way, you know, in that part of the house." 

Mr. Darcy looked a little ashamed of his aunt's ill-breeding, and made 
no answer. 

When coffee was over, Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded Elizabeth of hav- 
ing promised to play to him ; and she sat down directly to the instrument. 
He drew a chair near her. Lady Catherine listened to half a song, and 
then talked, as before, to her other nephew; till the latter walked away 



336 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

from her, and making with his usual deliberation towards the pianoforte^ 
stationed himself sc as to command a full view of the fair performer's 
countenance. Elizabeth saw what he was doing, and at the first convenient 
pause, turned to him with an arch smile, and said : 

"You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to 
hear me? But I will not be alarmed though your sister does play so well. 
There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at 
the will of others. My courage always rises with every attempt to intimi- 
date me." 

"I shall not say that you are mistaken," he replied, "because you could 
not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you ; and I have 
had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you find 
great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not 
your own." 

Elizabeth laughed heartily at this picture of herself, and said to Colonel 
Fitzwilliam, "Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of me, and 
teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky in meet- 
ing with a person so well able to expose my real character, in a part of 
the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of credit. 
Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous in you to mention all that you 
knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire and, give me leave to say, 
very impolitic too for it is provoking me to retaliate, and such things 
may come out as will shock your relations to hear." 

"I am not afraid of you," said he, smilingly. 

"Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of," cried Colonel Fitz- 
william. "I should like to know how he behaves among strangers." 

"You shall hear then but prepare yourself for something very dread- 
ful. The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know, 
was at a ball and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced only 
four dances! I am sorry to pain you but so it was. He danced only four 
dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain knowledge, 
more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner. Mr. 
Darcy, you cannot deny the fact." 

"I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly 
beyond my own party." 

"True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball-room. Well, Colonel 
Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders." 

"Perhaps," said Darcy, "I should have judged better, had I sought an 
introduction; but I am ill qualified to recommend myself to strangers." 

"Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?" said Elizabeth, still 
addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Shall we ask him why a man of sense 
and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill qualified to recom- 
mend himself to strangers?" 

"I can answer your question," said Fitzwilliam, "without applying to 
him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble." 

"I certainly have not the talent which some people possess," said 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 337 

Darcy, "of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot 
catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as 
I often see done." 

"My fingers," said Elizabeth, "do not move over this instrument in the 
masterly manner which I see so many women's do. They have not the 
same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then 
I have always supposed it to be my own fault because I would not take 
the trouble of practising. It is not that I do not believe my fingers as 
capable as any other woman's of superior execution." 

Darcy smiled and said, "You are perfectly right. You have employed 
your time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you 
can think anything wanting. We neither of us perform to strangers." 

Here they were interrupted by Lady Catherine, who called out to know 
what they were talking of. Elizabeth immediately began playing again. 
Lady Catherine approached, and, after listening for a few minutes, said to 
Darcy: 

"Miss Bennet would not play at all amiss if she practised more, and 
could have the advantage of a London Master. She has a very good notion 
of fingering, though her taste is not equal to Anne's. Anne would have 
been a delightful performer, had her health allowed her to learn." 

Elizabeth looked at Darcy to see how cordially he assented to his 
cousin's praise; but neither at that moment nor at any other could she 
discern any symptom of love ; and from the whole of his behaviour to Miss 
de Bourgh she derived this comfort for Miss Bingley, that he might have 
been just as likely to marry her, had she been his relation. 

Lady Catherine continued her remarks on Elizabeth's performance, 
mixing with them many instructions on execution and taste. Elizabeth 
received them with all the forbearance of civility, and, at the request of the 
gentlemen, remained at the instrument till her ladyship's carriage was 
ready to take them all home. 



Chapter 32 

ELIZABETH was sitting by herself the next morning, and writing to Jane, 
while Mrs. Collins and Maria were gone on business into the village, when 
she was startled by a ring at the door, the certain signal of a visitor. As 
she had heard no carriage, she thought it not unlikely to be Lady Cath- 
erine, and under that apprehension was putting away her half-finished 
letter that she might escape all impertinent questions, when the door 
opened, and, to her very great surprise, Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Darcy only, 
entered the room. 

He seemed astonished too on finding her alone, and apologised for his 
intrusion by letting her know that he had understood all the ladies to be 
within. 

They then sat down, and when her inquiries after Rosings were made. 



S 3 8 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. It was absolutely necessary, 
therefore, to think of something, and in this emergence recollecting when 
she had seen him last in Hertfordshire, and feeling curious to know what 
he would say on the subject of their hasty departure, she observed: 

"How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr. 
Darcy! It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see 
you all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but the day 
before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London?" 

" Perfectly so, I thank you." 

She found that she was to receive no other answer, and, after a short 
pause, added: 

"I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever 
returning to Netherfield again?" 

"I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spend 
very little of his time there in future. He has many friends, and he is at a 
time of life when friends and engagements are continually increasing." 

"If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the 
neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we 
might possibly get a settled family there. But, perhaps, Mr. Bingley did 
not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as 
for his own, and we must expect him to keep or quit it on the same 
principle." 

"I should not be surprised," said Darcy, "if he were to give it up as soon 
as any eligible purchase offers." 

Elizabeth made no answer. She was afraid of talking longer of his 
friend ; and, having nothing else to say, was now determined to leave the 
trouble of finding a subject to him. 

He took the hint, and soon began with, "This seems a very comfortable 
house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins 
first came to Hunsford." 

"I believe she did and I am sure she could not have bestowed her 
kindness on a more grateful object." 

"Mr. Collins appears very fortunate in his choice of a wife." 

"Yes, indeed, his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of 
the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have 
made him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding 
though I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the 
wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a 
prudential light it is certainly a very good match for her." 

"It must be very agreeable to her to be settled within so easy a distance 
of her own family and friends." 

"An easy distance, do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles." 

"And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day's 
journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance." 

"I should never have considered the distance as one of the advantages 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 337 

of the match," cried Elizabeth. "I should never have said Mrs. Collins was 1 
settled near her family." 

"It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything be- 
yond the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far.' J 

As he spoke there was a sort of smile which Elizabeth fancied she under- 
stood ; he must be supposing her to be thinking of Jane and Netherfield, 
and she blushed as she answered : 

"I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her 
family. The far and the near must be relative, and depend on many vary- 
ing circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expenses of trav- 
elling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the case here. 
Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not such a one as 
will allow of frequent journeys and I am persuaded my friend would not 
call herself near her family under less than half the present distance." 

Mr. Darcy drew his chair a little towards her, and said, "You cannot 
have a right to such very strong local attachment. You cannot have been 
always at Longbourn." 

Elizabeth looked surprised. The gentleman experienced some change of 
feeling; he drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and, 
glancing over it, said, in a colder voice: 

"Are you pleased with Kent?" 

A short dialogue on the subject of the county ensued, on either side 
calm and concise and soon put an end to by the entrance of Charlotte 
and her sister, just returned from their walk. The tete-a-tete surprised 
them. Mr. Darcy related the mistake which had occasioned his intruding 
on Miss Bennet, and after sitting a few minutes longer without saying 
much to anybody, went away. 

"What can be the meaning of this?" said Charlotte, as soon as he was 
gone. "My dear Eliza, he must be in love with you, or he would never 
have called on us in this familiar way." 

But when Elizabeth told of his silence, it did not seem very likely, even 
to Charlotte's wishes, to be the case; and after various conjectures, they 
could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from the difficulty of finding 
anything to do, which was the more probable from the time of year. All 
field sports were over. Within doors there was Lady Catherine, books, and 
a billiard-table, but gentlemen cannot be always within doors ; and in the 
nearness of the Parsonage, or the pleasantness of the walk to it, or of the 
people who lived in it, the two cousins found a temptation from this 
period of walking thither almost every day. They called at various times 
of the morning, sometimes separately, sometimes together, and now and 
then accompanied by their aunt. It was plain to them all that Colonel 
Fitzwilliam came because he had pleasure in their society, a persuasion 
which of course recommended him still more ; and Elizabeth was reminded 
by her own satisfaction in being with him, as well as by his evident ad- 
miration of her, of her former favourite George Wickham; and though, 
in comparing them, she saw there was less captivating softness in Colonel 



340 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

Fitzwilliam's manners, she believed he might have the best informed mind. 

But why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage, it was more diffi- 
cult to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there 
ten minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak, 
it seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice a sacrifice to 
propriety, not a pleasure to himself. He seldom appeared really animated. 
Mrs. Collins knew not what to make of him. Colonel Fitzwilliam's occa- 
sionally laughing at his stupidity, proved that he was generally different, 
which her own knowledge of him could not have told her; and as she 
would have liked to believe this change the effect of love, and the object 
of that love her friend Eliza, she set herself seriously to work to find it out. 
She watched him whenever they were at Rosings, and whenever he came 
to Hunsford ; but without much success. He certainly looked at her friend 
a great deal, but the expression of that look was disputable. It was an 
earnest, steadfast gaze, but she often doubted whether there were much 
admiration in it, and sometimes it seemed nothing but absence of mind. 

She had once or twice suggested to Elizabeth the possibility of his being 
partial to her, but Elizabeth always laughed at the idea ; and Mrs. Collins 
did not think it right to press the subject, from the danger of raising ex- 
pectations which might only end in disappointment; for in her opinion 
it admitted not of a doubt, that all her friend's dislike would vanish, if she 
could suppose him to be in her power. 

In her kind schemes for Elizabeth, she sometimes planned her marrying 
Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was beyond comparison the most pleasant man ; 
he certainly admired her, and his situation in life was most eligible ; but, 
to counterbalance these advantages, Mr. Darcy had considerable patron- 
age in the church, and his cousin could have none at all. 



Chapter 33 

MORE than once did Elizabeth, in her ramble within the park, unex- 
pectedly meet Mr. Darcy. She felt all the perverseness of the mischance 
that should bring him ohere no one else was brought, and, to prevent 
its ever happening again, took care to inform him at first that it was a 
favourite haunt of hers. How it could occur a second time, therefore, was 
very odd! Yet it did, and even the third. It seemed like wilful ill-nature, 
or a voluntary penance, for on these occasions it was not merely a few 
formal inquiries and an awkward pause and then away, but he actually 
thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her. He never said a 
great deal, nor did she give herself the trouble of talking or of listening 
much ; but it struck her in the course of their third rencontre that he was 
asking some old unconnected questions about her pleasure in being at 
Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her opinion of Mr. and Mrs. 
Collins 's happiness; and that in speaking of Rosings and her not perfectly 
understanding the house, he seemed to expect that whenever she came 



PRIDE AND PREJUDICE 341 

into Kent again she would be staying there too. His words seemed to im- 
ply it. Could he have Colonel Fitzwilliam in his thoughts? She supposed, 
if he meant anything, he must mean an allusion to what might arise in 
that quarter. It distressed her a little, and she was quite glad to find her- 
self at the gate in the pales opposite the Parsonage. 

She was engaged one day as she walked in reperusing Jane's last letter, 
and dwelling on some passage which proved that Jane had not written in 
spirits, when, instead of being again surprised by Mr. Darcy, she saw on 
looking up that Colonel Fitzwilliam was meeting her. Putting away the 
letter immediately and forcing a smile, she said: 

"I did not know before that you ever walked this way." 
"I have been making the tour of the park," he replied, "as I generally 
do every year, and intend to close it with a call at the Parsonage. Are you 
going much farther?" 

"No, I should have turned in a moment." 

And accordingly she did turn, and they walked towards the Parsonage 
together. 

"Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?" said she. 
"Yes if Darcy does not put it off again. But I am at his disposal. He 
arranges the business just as he pleases." 

"And if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least 
great pleasure in the power of choice. I do not know anybody who seems 
more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy." 

"He likes to have his own way very well," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. 
"But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it than 
many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak feel- 
ingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and de- 
pendence." 

"In my opinion, the younger son of an earl can know very little of 
either. Now, seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and de- 
pendence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going 
wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?" 

"These are home questions and perhaps I cannot say that I have 
experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater 
weight, I may suffer from the want of money. Younger sons cannot marry 
where they like." 

"Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very 
often do." 

"Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are not many 
in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to 
money." 

"Is this," thought Elizabeth, "meant for me?" and she coloured at the 

idea; but, recovering herself, said in a lively tone, "And pray, what is the 

usual price of an earl's younger son? Unless the elder brother is very 

sickly, I suppose you would not ask above fifty thousand pounds." 

He answered her in the same style, and the subject dropped. To inter- 



342 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

rupt a silence which might make him fancy her affected with what had 
passed, she soon afterwards said: 

"I imagine your cousin brought you down with him chiefly for the sake 
of having somebody at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry, to secure 
a lasting convenience of that kind. But, perhaps, his sister does as well 
for the present, and, as she is under his sole care, he may do what he likes 
with her." 

"No," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, "that is an advantage which he must 
divide with me. I am joined with him in the guardianship of Miss Darcy." 

"Are you indeed? And pray what sort of guardians do you make? Does 
your charge give you much trouble? Young ladies of her age are some- 
times a little difficult to manage, and if she has the true Darcy spirit, she 
may like to have her own way." 

As she spoke she observed him looking at her earnestly; and the man- 
ner RIDE AND PREJUDICE 369 

objections; and never had she before been so much disposed to pardon 
his interference in the views of his friend. 

But the gloom of Lydia's prospect was shortly cleared away; for she 
received an invitation from Mrs. Forster, the wife of the colonel of the 
regiment, to accompany her to Brighton. This invaluable friend was a 
very young woman, and very lately married. A resemblance in good 
humour and good spirits had recommended her and Lydia to each other, 
and out of their three months' acquaintance they had been intimate two. 
The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, her adoration of Mrs. Forster, 
the delight of Mrs. Bennet, and the mortification of Kitty, are scarcely 
to be described. Wholly inattentive to her sister's feelings, Lydia flew 
about the house in restless ecstasy, calling for every one's congratulations, 
and laughing and talking with more violence than ever; whilst the luck- 
less Kitty continued in the parlour repining at her fate in terms as un- 
reasonable as her accent was peevish. 

"I cannot see why Mrs. Forster should not ask me as well as Lydia," 
said she, "though I am not her particular friend. I have just as much 
right to be asked as she has, and more too, for I am two years older." 

In vain did Elizabeth attempt to make her reasonable, and Jane to 
make her resigned. As for Elizabeth herself, this invitation was so far 
from exciting in her the same feelings as in her mother and Lydia, that she 
considered it as the death warrant of all possibility of common sense for 
the latter ; and detestable as such a step must make her were it known, she 
could not help secretly advising her father not to let her go. She repre- 
sented to him all the improprieties of Lydia's general behaviour, the little 
advantage she could derive from the friendship of such a woman as Mrs. 
Forster, and the probability of her being yet more imprudent with such 
a companion at Brighton, where the temptations must be greater than at 
home. He heard her attentively, and then said: 

"Lydia will never be easy till she has exposed herself in some public 
place or other, and we can never expect her to do it with so little expense 
or inconvenience to her family as under the present circumstances." 

"If you were aware," said Elizabeth, "of the very great disadvantage to 
us all which must arise from the public notice of Lydia's unguarded and 
imprudent manner nay, which has already arisen from it, I am sure you 
would judge differently in the affair." 

"Already arisen?" repeated Mr. Bennet. "What, has she frightened 
away some of your lovers? Poor little Lizzy I But do not be cast down. 
Such squeamish youths as cannot bear to be connected with a little 
absurdity are not worth a regret. Come, let me see the list of pitiful fel- 
lows who have been kept aloof by Lydia's folly." 

"Indeed you are mistaken. I have no such injuries to resent. It is not of 
peculiar, but of general evils, which I am now complaining. Our impor- 
tance, our respectability in the world must be affected by the wild 
volatility, the assurance and disdain of all restraint which mark Lydia's 
character. Excuse me, for I must speak plainly. If you, my dear father, 



370 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

will not take the trouble of checking her exuberant spirits, and of teaching 
her that her present pursuits are not to be the business of her life, she 
will soon be beyond the reach of amendment. Her character will be fixed, 
and she will, at sixteen, be the most determined flirt that ever made herself 
and her family ridiculous; a flirt too, in the worst and meanest degree of 
flirtation; without any attraction beyond youth and a tolerable person; 
and, from the ignorance and emptiness of her mind, wholly unable to 
ward off any portion of that universal contempt which her rage for 
admiration will excite. In this danger Kitty is also comprehended. She 
will follow wherever Lydia leads. Vain, ignorant, idle, and absolutely un- 
controlled! Oh! my dear father, can you suppose it possible that they 
will not be censured and despised wherever they are known, and that their 
sisters will not be often involved in the disgrace?" 

Mr. Bennet saw that her whole heart was in the subject, and affection- 
ately taking her hand said in reply: 

"Do not make yourself uneasy, my love. Wherever you and Jane are 
known you must be respected and valued ; and you will not appear to less 
advantage for having a couple of or I may say, three very silly sisters. 
We shall have no peace at Longbourn if Lydia does not go to Brighton. 
Let her go, then. Colonel Forster is a sensible man, and will keep her out 
of any real mischief; and she is luckily too poor to be an object of prey to 
anybody. At Brighton she will be of less importance even as a common 
flirt than she has been here. The officers will find women better worth 
their notice. Let us hope, therefore, that her being there may teach her her 
own insignificance. At any rate, she cannot grow many degrees worse, 
without authorising us to lock her up for the rest of her life." 

With this answer Elizabeth was forced to be content; but her own 
opinion continued the same, and she left him disappointed and sorry. It 
was not in her nature, however, to increase her vexations by dwelling on 
them. She was confident of having performed her duty, and to fret over 
unavoidable evils, or augment them by anxiety, was no part of her dis- 
position. 

Had Lydia and her mother known the substance of her conference with 
her father, their indignation would hardly have found expression in their 
united volubility. In Lydia's imagination, a visit to Brighton comprised 
every possibility of earthly happiness. She saw, with the creative eye of 
fancy, the streets of that gay bathing-place covered with officers. She saw 
herself the object of attention to tens and to scores of them at present 
unknown. She saw all the glories of the camp its tents stretched forth 
in beauteous uniformity of lines, crowded with the young and the gay, and 
dazzling with scarlet; and, to complete the view, she saw herself seated 
beneath a tent, tenderly flirting with at least six officers at once. 

Had she known that her sister sought to tear her from such prospects 
and such realities as these, what would have been her sensations? They 
could have been understood only by her mother, who might have felt 
nearly the same. Lydia's going to Brighton was all that consoled her for 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 371 

her melancholy conviction of her husband's never intending to go there 
himself. 

But they were entirely ignorant of what had passed ; and their raptures 
continued, with little intermission, to the very day of Lydia's leaving 
home. 

Elizabeth was now to see Mr. Wickham for the last time. Having been 
frequently in company with him since her return, agitation was pretty 
well over; the agitations of former partiality entirely so. She had even 
learnt to detect, in the very gentleness which had first delighted her, an 
affectation and a sameness to disgust and weary. In his present behaviour 
to herself, moreover, she had a fresh source of displeasure, for the in- 
clination he soon testified of renewing those attentions which had marked 
the early part of their acquaintance could only serve, after what had since 
passed, to provoke her. She lost all concern for him in finding herself thus 
selected as the object of such idle and frivolous gallantry; and while she 
steadily repressed it, could not but feel the reproof contained in his believ- 
ing, that however long, and for whatever cause, his attentions had been 
withdrawn, her vanity would be gratified, and her preference secured at 
any time by their renewal. 

On the very last day of the regiment's remaining at Meryton, he dined, 
with other of the officers, at Longbourn ; and so little was Elizabeth dis- 
posed to part from him in good humour, that on his making some inquiry 
as to the manner in which her time had passed at Hunsford, she men- 
tioned Colonel Fitzwilliam's and Mr. Darcy's having both spent three 
weeks at Rosings, and asked him if he was acquainted with the former. 

He looked surprised, displeased, alarmed ; but with a moment's recol- 
lection and a returning smile, replied that he had formerly seen him often ; 
and, after observing that he was a very gentlemanlike man, asked her how 
she had liked him. Her answer was warmly in his favour. With an air of 
indifference he soon afterwards added : 

"How long did you say that he was at Rosings?" 

"Nearly three weeks." 

"And you saw him frequently?" 

"Yes, almost every day." 

"His manners are very different from his cousin's." 

"Yes, very different. But I think Mr. Darcy improves on acquaintance." 

"Indeed! " cried Wickham, with a look which did not escape her. "And 

pray, may I ask? " But checking himself, he added, in a gayer tone, 

"Is it in address that he improves? Has he designed to add aught of civil- 
ity to his ordinary style? for I dare not hope," he continued in a lower 
and more serious tone, "that he is improved in essentials." 

"Oh, no!" said Elizabeth. "In essentials, I believe, he is very much 
what he ever was." 

While she spoke, Wickham looked as if scarcely knowing whether to 
rejoice over her words, or to distrust their meaning. There was a something 



372 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

in her countenance which made him listen with an apprehensive and anx- 
ious attention, while she added : 

"When I said that he improved on acquaintance, I did not mean that 
either his mind or manners were in a state of improvement, but that, from 
knowing him better, his disposition was better understood." 

Wickham's alarm now appeared in a heightened complexion and agi- 
tated look; for a few minutes he was silent, till, shaking off his embarrass- 
ment, he turned to her again, and said in the gentlest of accents : 

"You, who so well know my feelings towards Mr. Darcy, will readily 
comprehend how sincerely I must rejoice that he is wise enough to assume 
even the appearance of what is right. His pride, in that direction, may be 
of service, if not to himself, to many others, for it must deter him from 
such foul misconduct as I have suffered by. I only fear that the sort of 
cautiousness to which you, I imagine, have been alluding, is merely 
adopted on his visits to his aunt, of whose good opinion and judgment he 
stands much in awe. His fear of her has always operated, I know, when 
they were together ; and a good deal is to be imputed to his wish of for- 
warding the match with Miss de Bourgh, which I am certain he has very 
much at heart." 

Elizabeth could not repress a smile at this, but she answered only by a 
slight inclination of the head. She saw that he wanted to engage her on the 
old subject of his grievances, and she was in no humour to indulge him. 
The rest of the evening passed with the appearance, on his side, of usual 
cheerfulness, but with no further attempt to distinguish Elizabeth ; and 
they parted at last with mutual civility, and possibly a mutual desire of 
never meeting again. 

When the party broke up, Lydia returned with Mrs. Forster to Mery- 
ton, from whence they were to set out early the next morning. The separa- 
tion between her and her family was rather noisy than pathetic. Kitty 
was the only one who shed tears; but she did weep from vexation and 
envy. Mrs. Bennet was diffuse in her good wishes for the felicity of her 
daughter, and impressive in her injunctions that she would not miss the 
opportunity of enjoying herself as much as possible advice which there 
was every reason to believe would be attended to ; and in the clamorous 
happiness of Lydia herself in bidding farewell, the more gentle adieux of 
her sisters were uttered without being heard. 



Chapter 42 

H^D Elizabeth's opinion been all drawn from her own family, she could 
not have formed a very pleasing picture of conjugal felicity or domestic 
comfort. Her father, captivated by youth and beauty, and that appearance 
of good humour which youth and beauty generally give, had married a 
woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind had very early in 
their marriage put an end to all real affection for her. Respect, esteem, 



PRIDE AND PREJUDICE 373 

and confidence had vanished for ever ; and all his views of domestic happi- 
ness were overthrown. But Mr. Bennet was not of a disposition to seek 
comfort for the disappointment which his own imprudence had brought 
on, in any of those pleasures which too often console the unfortunate for 
their folly or their vice. He was fond of the country and of brooks; and 
from these tastes had arisen his principal enjoyments. To his wife he was 
very little otherwise indebted, than as her ignorance and folly had con- 
tributed to his amusement. This is not the sort of happiness which a man 
would in general wish to owe to his wife ; but where other powers of enter- 
tainment are wanting, the true philosopher will derive benefit from such 
as are given. 

Elizabeth, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of her 
father's behaviour as a husband. She had always seen it with pain; but 
respecting his abilities, and grateful for his affectionate treatment of her- 
self, she endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook, and to banish 
from her thoughts that continual breach of conjugal obligation and de- 
corum which, in exposing his wife to the contempt of her own children , 
was so highly reprehensible. But she had never felt so strongly as now the 
disadvantages which must attend the children of so unsuitable a marriage, 
nor ever been so fully aware of the evils arising from so ill-judged a direc- 
tion of talents ; talents which, rightly used, might at least have preserved 
the respectability of his daughters, even if incapable of enlarging the mind 
of his wife. 

When Elizabeth had rejoiced over Wickham's departure she found little 
other cause for satisfaction in the loss of the regiment. Their parties 
abroad were less varied than before, and at home she had a mother and 
sister whose constant repinings at the dullness of everything ardund them 
threw a real gloom over their domestic circle; and, though Kitty might in 
time regain her natural degree of sense, since the disturbers of her brain 
were removed, her other sister, from whose disposition greater evil might 
be apprehended, was likely to be hardened in all her folly and assurance 
by a situation of such double danger as a watering-place and a camp. 
Upon the whole, therefore, she found, what has been sometimes found 
before, that an event to which she had looked forward with impatient 
desire did not, in taking place, bring all the satisfaction she had promised 
herself. It was consequently necessary to name some other period for the 
commencement of actual felicity to have some other point on which her 
wishes and hopes might be fixed, and by again enjoying the pleasure of 
anticipation, console herself for the present, and prepare for another dis- 
appointment. Her tour to the Lakes was now the object of her happiest 
thoughts; it was her best consolation for all the uncomfortable hours 
which the discontentedness of her mother and Kitty made inevitable; 
and could she have included Jane in the scheme, every part of it would 
have been perfect. 

"But it is fortunate," thought she, "that I have something to wish for, 
Were the whole arrangement complete, my disappointment would be 



374 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

certain. But here, by carrying with me one ceaseless source of regret in 
my sister's absence, I may reasonably hope to have all my expectations 
of pleasure realised. A scheme of which every part promises delight can 
never be successful ; and general disappointment is only warded off by the 
defence of some little peculiar vexation." 

When Lydia went away she promised to write very often and very 
minutely to her mother and Kitty; but her letters were always long 
expected, and always very short. Those to her mother contained little 
else than that they were just returned from the library, where such and 
such officers had attended them, and where she had seen such beautiful 
ornaments as made her quite wild; that she had a new gown, or a new 
parasol, which she would have described more fully, but was obliged to 
leave off in a violent hurry, as Mrs. Forster called her, and they were going 
to the camp ; and from her correspondence with her sister there was still 
less to be learnt for her letters to Kitty, though rather longer, were 
much too full of lines under the words to be made public. 

After the first fortnight or three weeks of her absence, health, good 
humour, and cheerfulness began to reappear at Longbourn. Everything 
wore a happier aspect. The families who had been in town for the winter 
came back again, and summer finery and summer engagements arose. 
Mrs. Bennet was restored to her usual querulous serenity; and, by the 
middle of June, Kitty was so much recovered as to be able to enter Mery- 
ton without tears ; an event of such happy promise as to make Elizabeth 
hope that by the following Christmas she might be so tolerably reason- 
able as not to mention an officer above once a day, unless, by some cruel 
and malicious arrangement at the War Office, another regiment should 
be quartered in Meryton. 

The time fixed for the beginning of their northern tour was now fast 
approaching, and a fortnight only was wanting of it, when a letter arrived 
from Mrs. Gardiner, which at once delayed its commencement and cur- 
tailed its extent. Mr. Gardiner would be prevented by business from set- 
ting out till a fortnight later in July, and must be in London again within 
a month ; and as that left too short a period for them to go so far, and see 
so much as they had proposed, or at least to see it with the leisure and 
comfort they had built on, they were obliged to give up the Lakes, and 
substitute a more contracted tour, and, according to the present plan, 
were to go no farther northwards than Derbyshire. In that county there 
was enough to be seen to occupy the chief of their three weeks; and to 
Mrs. Gardiner it had a peculiarly strong attraction. The town where she 
had formerly passed some years of her life, and where they were now 
to spend a few days, was probably as great an object of her curiosity as 
all the celebrated beauties of Matlock, Chatsworth, Dovedale, or the Peak. 

Elizabeth was excessively disappointed ; she had set her heart on seeing 
the Lakes, and still thought there might have been time enough. But it 
was her business to be satisfied and certainly her temper to be happy; 
and all was soon right again. 



PR1DEANDPREJUDICE 37^ 

With the mention of Derbyshire there were many ideas connected. It 
was impossible for her to see the word without thinking of Pemberley and 
its owner. "But surely," said she, "I may enter his county with impunity, 
and rob it of a few petrified spars without his perceiving me." 

The period of expectation was now doubled. Four weeks were to pass 
away before her uncle and aunt's arrival. But they did pass away, and 
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, with their four children, did at length appear at 
Longbourn. The children, two girls of six and eight years old, and two 
younger boys, were to be left under the particular care of their cousin 
Jane, who was the general favourite, and whose steady sense and sweet- 
ness of temper exactly adapted her for attending to them in every way 
teaching them, playing with them, and loving them. 

The Gardiners stayed only one night at Longbourn, and set off the next 
morning with Elizabeth in pursuit of novelty and amusement. One enjoy- 
ment was certain that of suitableness as companions; a suitableness 
which comprehended health and temper to bear inconveniences cheer- 
fulness to enhance every pleasure and affection and intelligence, which 
might supply it among themselves if there were disappointments abroad. 

It is not the object of this work to give a description of Derbyshire, nor 
of any of the remarkable places through which their route thither lay; 
Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Kenilworth, Birmingham, etc., are suffi- 
ciently known. A small part of Derbyshire is all the present concern. To 
the little town of Lambton, the scene of Mrs. Gardiner's former residence, 
and where she had lately learned that some acquaintances still remained, 
they bent their steps, after having seen all the principal wonders of the 
country; and within five miles of Lambton, Elizabeth found from her 
aunt that Pemberley was situated , It was not in their direct road, nor 
more than a mile or two out of it. In talking over their route the evening 
before, Mrs. Gardiner expressed an inclination to see the place again. 
Mr. Gardiner declared his willingness, and Elizabeth was applied to for 
her approbation. 

"My love, should not you like to see a place of which you have heard 
so much?" said her aunt; "a place, too, with which so many of your 
acquaintances are connected. Wickham passed all his youth there, you 
know." 

Elizabeth was distressed. She felt that she had no business at Pember- 
ley, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it. She must own 
that she was tired of great houses; after going over so many, she really 
had no pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains. 

Mrs. Gardiner abused her stupidity. "If it were merely a fine house 
richly furnished," said she, "I should not care about it myself; but the 
grounds are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the 
country." 

Elizabeth said no more but her mind could not acquiesce. The possi- 
bility of meeting Mr. Darcy, while viewing the place, instantly occurred. 
It would be dreadful ! She blushed at the very idea, and thought it would 



376 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

be better to speak openly to her aunt than to run such a risk. But against 
this there were objections; and she finally resolved that it could be the 
last resource, if her private inquiries as to the absence of the family were 
unfavourably answered. 

Accordingly, when she retired at night, she asked the chambermaid 
whether Pemberley were not a very fine place? what was the name of its 
proprietor? and, with no little alarm, whether the family were down for 
the summer? A most welcome negative followed the last question and 
her alarms being now removed, she was at leisure to feel a great deal of 
curiosity to see the house herself; and when the subject was revived the 
next morning, and she was again applied to, could readily answer, and 
with a proper air of indifference, that she had not really any dislike to 
the scheme. To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go. 



Chapter 43 

ELIZABETH, as they drove along, watched for the first appearance of 
Pemberley Woods with some perturbation; and when at length they 
turned in at the lodge, her spirits were in a high flutter. 

The park was very large, and contained great variety of ground. They 
entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through a 
beautiful wood stretching over a wide extent. 

Elizabeth's mind was too full for conversation, out she saw and admired 
svery remarkable spot and point of view. Tney gradually ascended for 
balf-a-mile, and then found themselves a> the top of a considerable emi- 
nence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pem- 
berley House, situated on the opposite side oi a valley, into which the 
road with some abruptness wound. It was a large, handsome stone build- 
ing, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody 
hills ; and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into 
greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither 
formal nor falsely adorned. Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen 
a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been 
so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They were all of them warm 
in their admiration; and at that moment she felt that to be mistress of 
Pemberley might be something! 

They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door; 
ind, while examining the nearer aspect of the house, all her apprehension 
i)f meeting its owner returned. She dreaded lest the chambermaid had been 
Mistaken. On applying to see the place, they were admitted into the hall; 
and Elizabeth, as they waited for the housekeeper, had leisure to wonder 
at her being where she was. 

The housekeeper came ; a respectable-looking elderly woman, much less 
fine, and more civil, than she had any notion of finding her. They followed 
her into the dining-pariour. It was a large, well proportioned room, hand- 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 377 

somely fitted up. Elizabeth, after slightly surveying it, went to a window 
*o enjoy its prospect. The hill, crowned with wood, which which they had 
descended, receiving increased abruptness from the distance, was a beau- 
tiful object. Every disposition of the ground was good; and she looked on 
the whole scene, the river, the trees scattered on its banks and the winding 
of the valley, as far as she could trace it, with delight. As they passed into 
other rooms these objects were taking different positions ; but from every 
window there were beauties to be seen. The rooms were lofty and hand- 
some, and their furniture suitable to the fortune of their proprietor ; but 
Elizabeth saw, with admiration of his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor 
uselessly fine; with less of splendour, ana more real elegance, than the 
furniture of Rosings. 

"And of this place/' thought she, "1 might have been mistress! With 
these rooms I might now have been familiarly acquainted! Instead of 
viewing them as a stranger, I might have rejoiced in them as my own, 
and welcomed to them as visitors my uncle and aunt. But no" recollect- 
ing herself "that could never be; my uncle and aunt would have been 
lost to me; I should not have been allowed to invite them." 

This was a lucky recollection it saved her from something like regret. 

She longed to inquire of the housekeeper whether her master was really 
absent, but had not courage for it. At length, however, the question was 
asked by her uncle ; and she turned away with alarm, while Mrs. Reynolds 
replied that he was, adding, "But we expect him to-morrow, with a large 
party of friends." How rejoiced was Elizabeth that their own journey had 
not by any circumstance been delayed a day! 

Her aunt now called her to look at a picture. She approached and saw 
the likeness of Mr. Wickham suspended, amongst several other minia- 
tures, over the mantelpiece. Her aunt asked her, smilingly, how she liked 
it. The housekeeper came forward, and told them it was the picture of a 
young gentleman, the son of her late master's steward, who had been 
brought up by him at his own expense. "He is now gone into the army," 
she added ; "but I am afraid he has turned out very wild." 

Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece with a smile, but Elizabeth could 
not return it. 

"And that," said Mrs. Reynolds, pointing to another of the miniatures, 
"is my master and very like him. It was drawn at the same time as the 
other about eight years ago." 

"I have heard much of your master's fine person," said Mrs. Gardiner, 
looking at the picture; "it is a handsome face. But, Lizzy, you can tell us 
whether it is like or not." 

Mrs. Reynolds's respect for Elizabeth seemed to increase on this inti- 
mation of her knowing her master. 

"Does that young lady know Mr. Darcy?" 

Elizabeth coloured, and said: "A little." 

"And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, ma'am?' 5 

'Yes, very handsome." 



>7 8 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

"I am sure I know none so handsome; but in the gallery upstairs you 
will see a finer, larger picture of him than this. This room was my late 
master's favourite room, and these miniatures are just as they used to be 
then. He was very fond of them." 

This accounted to Elizabeth for Mr. Wickham's being among them. 

Mrs. Reynolds then directed their attention to one of Miss Darcy, 
drawn when she was only eight years old. 

"And is Miss Darcy as handsome as her brother?" said Mr. Gardiner. 

"Oh! yes the handsomest young lady that ever was seen; and so 
accomplished! She plays and sings all day long. In the next room is a new 
instrument just come down for her a present from my master ; she comes 
here to-morrow with him." 

Mr. Gardiner, whose manners were easy and pleasant, encouraged her 
communicativeness by his questions and remarks: Mrs. Reynolds, either 
from pride or attachment, had evidently great pleasure in talking of her 
master and his sister. 

"Is your master much at Pemberley in the course of the year?" 

"Not so much as I could wish, sir ; but I dare say he may spend half his 
time here; and Miss Darcy is always down for the summer months." 

"Except," thought Elizabeth, "when she goes to Ramsgate." 

"If your master would marry, you might see more of him." 

"Yes, sir ; but I do not know when that will be. I do not know who is 
good enough for him." 

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner smiled. Elizabeth could not help saying, "It is 
very much to his credit, I am sure, that you should think so." 

"I say no more than the truth, and what everybody will say that knows 
him," replied the other. Elizabeth thought this was going pretty far; and 
she listened with increasing astonishment as the housekeeper added, "I 
have never had a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him 
ever since he was four years old." 

This was praise, of all others most extraordinary, most opposite to her 
ideas. That he was not a good-tempered man had been her firmest opinion. 
Her keenest attention was awakened ; she longed to hear more, and was 
grateful to her uncle for saying: 

"There are very few people of whom so much can be said. You are 
lucky in having such a master." 

"Yes, sir, I know I am. If I were to go through the world, I could not 
meet with a better. But I have always observed, that they who are good- 
natured when children, are good-natured when they grow up ; and he was 
always the sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted boy in the world." 

Elizabeth almost stared at her. "Can this be Mr. Darcy?" thought she. 

"His father was an excellent man," said Mrs. Gardiner. 

"Yes, ma'am, that he was indeed; and his son will be just like him 
just as affable to the poor." 

Elizabeth listened, wondered, doubted, and was impatient for more. 
Mrs. Reynolds could interest her on no other point. She related the sub- 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 379 

jects of the oictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the 
furniture, in vain. Mr. Gardiner, highly amused by the kind of family 
prejudice to which he attributed her excessive commendation of her 
master, soon led again to the subject; and she dwelt with energy on his 
many merits as they proceeded together up the great staircase. 

"He is the best landlord, and the best master," said she, "that ever 
lived ; not like the wild young men nowadays, who think of nothing but 
themselves. There is not one of .his tenants or servants but what will give 
him a good name. Some people call him proud ; but I am sure I never saw 
anything of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away 
like other young men." 

"In what an amiable light does this place him! " thought Elizabeth. 

"This fine account of him," whispered her aunt as they walked, "is not 
quite consistent with his behaviour to our poor friend." 

"Perhaps we might be deceived." 

"That is not very likely; our authority was too good." 

On reaching the spacious lobby above they were shown into a very 
pretty sitting-room, lately fitted up with greater elegance and lightness 
than the apartments below ; and were informed that it was but just done 
to give pleasure to Miss Darcy, who had taken a liking to the room when 
last at Pemberley. 

"He is certainly a good brother," said Elizabeth, as she walked towards 
one of the windows. 

Mrs. Reynolds anticipated Miss Darcy's delight, when she should enter 
the room. "And this is always the way with him," she added. "Whatever 
can give his sister any pleasure is sure to be done in a moment. There is 
nothing he would not do for her." 

The picture-gallery, and two or three of the principal bedrooms, were 
all that remained to be shown. In the former were many good paintings; 
but Elizabeth knew nothing of the art; and from such as had been already 
visible below, she had willingly turned to look at some drawings of Miss 
Darcy's, in crayons, whose subjects were usually more interesting, and 
also more intelligible. 

In the gallery there were many family portraits, but they could have 
little to fix the attention of a stranger. Elizabeth walked on in quest of 
the only face whose features would be known to her. At last it arrested 
her and she beheld a striking resemblance to Mr. Darcy, with such a 
smile over the face as she remembered to have sometimes seen when he 
looked at her. She stood several minutes before the picture, in earnest 
contemplation, and returned to it again before they quitted the gallery. 
Mrs. Reynolds informed them that it had been taken in his father's 
lifetime. 

There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth's mind, a more gentle 
sensation towards the original than she had ever felt in the height of their 
acquaintance. The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Reynolds was 
of no trifling nature. What praise is more valuable than the praise of an 



j8o THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

intelligent servant? As a brother, a landlord, a master, she considered how 
many people's happiness were in his guardianship! how much of pleas- 
ure or pain it was in his power to bestow! how much of good or evil must 
be done by him ! Every idea that had been brought forward by the house- 
keeper was favourable to his character, and as she stood before the canvas 
on which he was represented, and fixed his eyes upon herself, she thought 
of his regard with a deeper sentiment of gratitude than it had ever raised 
before; she remembered its warmth, and softened its impropriety of 
expression. 

When all of the house that was open to general inspection had been 
seen, they returned downstairs, and, taking leave of the housekeeper, were 
consigned over to the gardener, who met them at the hall-door. 

As they walked across the lawn towards the river, Elizabeth turned 
back to look again; her uncle and aunt stopped also, and while the former 
was conjecturing as to the date of the building, the owner of it himself 
suddenly came forward from the road, which led behind it to the stables. 

They were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt was his 
appearance that it was impossible to avoid his sight. Their eyes instantly 
met, and the cheeks of each were overspread with the deepest blush. He 
absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immovable from surprise ; 
but shortly recovering himself, advanced towards the party, and spoke to 
Elizabeth, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least of perfect civility. 

She had instinctively turned away; but stopping on his approach, 
received his compliments with an embarrassment impossible to be over- 
come. Had his first appearance, or his resemblance to the picture they had 
just been examining, been insufficient to assure the other two that they 
now saw Mr. Darcy, the gardener's expression of surprise, on beholding 
his master, must immediately have told it. They stood a little aloof while 
he was talking to their niece, who, astonished and confused, scarcely dared 
lift her eyes to his face, and knew not what answer she returned to his 
civil inquiries after her family. Amazed at the alteration of his manner 
since they last parted, every sentence that he uttered was increasing her 
embarrassment; and every idea of the impropriety of her being found 
there recurring to her mind, the few minutes in which they continued 
together were some of the most uncomfortable of her life. Nor did he 
seem much more at ease: when he spoke, his accent had none of its usual 
sedateness ; and he repeated his inquiries as to the time of her having left 
Longbourn, and of her stay in Derbyshire, so often, and in so hurried a 
way, as plainly spoke the distraction of his thoughts. 

At length every idea seemed to fail him; and, after standing a few 
moments without saying a word, he suddenly recollected himself, and 
took leave. 

The others then joined her, and expressed their admiration of his figure; 
but Elizabeth heard not a word, and, wholly engrossed by her own feel- 
ings, followed them in silence. She was overpowered by shame and vexa- 
tion. Her coming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 381 

thing in the world! How strange must it appear to him! In what a dis- 
graceful light might it not strike so vain a man! It might seem as if she 
had purposely thrown herself in his way again! Oh! why did she come? 
Or, why did he thus come a day before he was expected? Had they been 
only ten minutes sooner, they should have been beyond the reach of his 
discrimination ; for it was plain that he was that moment arrived that 
moment alighted from his horse or his carriage. She blushed again and 
again over the perverseness of the meeting. And his behaviour, so strik- 
ingly altered what could it mean? That he should even speak to her was 
amazing! but to speak with such civility, to inquire after her family! 
Never in her life had she seen his manners so little dignified, never had 
he spoken with such gentleness as on this unexpected meeting. What a 
contrast did it offer to his last address in Rosings Park, when he put his 
letter into her hand! She knew not what to think, or how to account for it. 

They had now entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water, and 
every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or a finer reach 
of the woods to which they were approaching ; but it was some time before 
Elizabeth was sensible of any of it ; and, though she answered mechani- 
cally to the repeated appeals of her uncle and aunt, and seemed to direct 
her eyes to such objects as they pointed out, she distinguished no part of 
the scene. Her thoughts were all fixed on that one spot of Pemberley 
House, whichever it might be, where Mr. Darcy then was. She longed to 
know what at that moment was passing in his mind in what manner he 
thought of her, and whether, in defiance of everything, she was still dear 
to him. Perhaps he had been civil only because he felt himself at ease ; yet 
there had been that in his voice which was not like ease. Whether he had 
felt more of pain or of pleasure in seeing her she could not tell, but he cer- 
tainly had not seen her with composure. 

At length, however, the remarks of her companions on her absence of 
mind aroused her, and she felt the necessity of appearing more like herself, 

They entered the woods, and bidding adieu to the river for a while 
ascended some of the higher grounds ; when, in spots where the opening 
of the trees gave the eye power to wander, were many charming views of 
the valley, the opposite hills, with the long range of woods overspreading 
many, and occasionally part of the stream. Mr. Gardiner expressed a wish 
of going round the whole park, but feared it might be beyond a walk. 
With a triumphant smile, they were told that it was ten miles round. It 
settled the matter; and they pursued the accustomed circuit; which 
brought them again, after some time, in a descent among hanging woods, 
to the edge of the water, and one of its narrowest parts. They crossed it 
by a. simple bridge, in character with the general air of the scene ; it was 
a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited; and the valley, here 
contracted into a glen, allowed room only for the stream, and a narrow 
walk amidst the rough coppice-wood which bordered it. Elizabeth longed 
to explore its windings ; but when they had crossed the bridge, and per- 
ceived their distance from the house, Mrs. Gardiner, who was not a great 



382 THE WORKS OF JANE- AUSTEN 

walker, could go no farther, and thought only of returning to the car- 
riage as quickly as possible. Her niece was, therefore, obliged to submit, 
and they took their way towards the house on the opposite side of the 
river, in the nearest direction ; but their progress was slow, for Mr. Gardi- 
ner, though seldom able to indulge the taste, was very fond of fishing, 
and was so much engaged in watching the occasional appearance of some 
trout in the water, and talking to the man about them, that he advanced 
but little. Whilst wandering on in this slow manner, they were again sur- 
prised, and Elizabeth's astonishment was quite equal to what it had been 
at first, by the sight of Mr. Darcy approaching them, and at no great dis- 
tance. The walk being here less sheltered than on the other side, allowed 
them to see him before they met. Elizabeth, however astonished, was at 
least more prepared for an interview than before, and resolved to appear 
and to speak with calmness, if he really intended to meet them. For a few 
moments, indeed, she felt that he would probably strike into some other 
path. The idea lasted while a turning in the walk concealed him from 
their view; the turning past, he was immediately before them. With a 
glance, she saw that he had lost none of his recent civility; and, to imi- 
tate his politeness, she began as they met to admire the beauty of the 
place; but she had not got beyond the words "delightful," and "charm- 
ing," when some unlucky recollections obtruded, and she fancied that 
praise of Pemberley from her might be mischievously construed. Her 
colour changed, and she said no more. 

Mrs. Gardiner was standing a little behind; and on her pausing, he 
asked her if she would do him the honour of introducing him to her friends. 
This was a stroke of civility for which she was quite unprepared ; and she 
could hardly suppress a smile at his being now seeking the acquaintance 
of some of those very people against whom his pride had revolted in his 
offer to herself. "What will be his surprise," thought she, "when he knows 
who they are? He takes them now for people of fashion." 

The introduction, however, was immediately made; and as she named 
their relationship to herself, she stole a sly look at him, to see how he bore 
it, and was not without the expectation of his decamping as fast as he 
could from such disgraceful companions. That he was surprised by the 
connection was evident ; he sustained it, however, with fortitude, and, so 
far from going away, turned back with them, and entered into conversa- 
tion with Mr. Gardiner. Elizabeth could not but be pleased, could not but 
triumph. It was consoling that he should know she had some relations for 
whom there was no need to blush. She listened most attentively to all that 
passed between them, and gloried in every expression, every sentence of 
her uncle, which marked his intelligence, his taste, or his good manners. 

The conversation soon turned upon fishing ; and she heard Mr. Darcy 
invite him, with the greatest civility, to fish there as often as he chose 
while he continued in the neighbourhood, offering at the same time to 
supply him with fishing tackle, and pointing out those parts of the stream 
theie was usually most sport. Mrs. Gardiner, who was walking arm- 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 33 

and-arm with Elizabeth, gave her a look expressive of her wonder. Eliza- 
beth said nothing, but it gratified her exceedingly ; the compliment must 
be all for herself. Her astonishment, however, was extreme, and continu- 
ally was she repeating, "Why is he so altered? From what can it proceed? 
It cannot be for me it cannot be for my sake that his manners are thus 
softened. My reproofs at Hunsford could not work such a change as this. 
It is impossible that he should still love me." 

After walking some time in this way, the two ladies in front, the two 
gentlemen behind, on resuming their places, after descending to the brink 
of the river for the better inspection of some curious water-plant, there 
chanced to be a little alteration. It originated in Mrs. Gardiner, who, 
fatigued by the exercise of the morning, found Elizabeth's arm inadequate 
to her support, and consequently preferred her husband's. Mr. Darcy took 
her place by her niece, and they walked on together. After a short silence, 
the lady first spoke. She wished him to know that she had been assured of 
his absence before she came to the place, and accordingly began by ob- 
serving, that his arrival had been very unexpected "for your house- 
keeper," she added, "informed us that you would certainly not be here 
till to-morrow; and indeed, before we left Bakewell, we understood that 
you were not immediately expected in the country." He acknowledged 
the truth of it all, and said that business with his steward had occasioned 
his coming forward a few hours before the rest of the party with whom 
he had been travelling. "They will join me early to-morrow," he con- 
tinued, "and among them are some who will claim an acquaintance with 
you Mr. Bingley and his sisters." 

Elizabeth answered only by a slight bow. Her thoughts were instantly 
driven back to the time when Mr. Bingley's name had been last men- 
tioned between them ; and, if she might judge from his complexion, his 
mind was not very differently engaged. 

"There is also one other person in the party," he continued after a 
pause, "who more particularly wishes to be known to you. Will you allow 
me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance 
during your stay at Lambton?" 

The surprise of such an application was great indeed ; it was too great 
for her to know in what manner she acceded to it. She immediately felt 
that whatever desire Miss Darcy might have of being acquainted with her 
must be the work of her brother, and, without looking farther, it was 
satisfactory; it was gratifying to know that his resentment had not made 
him think really ill of her. 

They now walked on in silence, each of them deep in thought. Elizabeth 
was not comfortable; that was impossible; but she was flattered and 
pleased. His wish of introducing his sister to her was a compliment of the 
highest kind. They soon outstripped the others, and when they had 
reached the carriage, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were half a quarter of a mile 
behind. 

He then asked her to walk into the house but she declared herself not 



384 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

t'red, and they stood together on the lawn. At such a time much might 
have been said, and silence was very awkward. She wanted to talk, but 
there seemed an embargo on every subject. At last she recollected that 
she had been travelling, and they talked of Matlock and Dovedale with 
great perseverance. Yet time and her aunt moved slowly and her pa- 
tience and her ideas were nearly worn out before the tete-a-tete was over 
On Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's coming up they were all pressed to go into 
the house and take some refreshment; but this was declined, and they 
parted on each side with the utmost politeness. Mr. Darcy handed the 
ladies into the carriage ; and when it drove off, Elizabeth saw him walking 
slowly towards the house. 

The observations of her uncle and aunt now began ; and each of them 
pronounced him to be infinitely superior to anything they had expected. 
"He is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming," said her uncle. 

"There is something a little stately in him, to be sure," replied her aunt ; 
"but it is confined to his air, and is not unbecoming. I can now say with 
the housekeeper, that though some people may call him proud, / have 
seen nothing of it." 

"I was never more surprised than by his behaviour to us. It was more 
than civil; it was really attentive; and there was no necessity for such 
attention. His acquaintance with Elizabeth was very trifling." 

"To be sure, Lizzy," said her aunt, "he is not so handsome as Wickham ; 
or, rather, he has not Wickham's countenance, for his features are per- 
fectly good. But how came you to tell me that he was so disagreeable?" 

Elizabeth excused herself as well as she could ; said that she had liked 
him better when they met in Kent than before, and that she had never 
seen him so pleasant as this morning. 

"But perhaps he may be a little whimsical in his civilities," replied her 
uncle. "Your great men often are; and therefore I shall not take him at 
his word about fishing, as he might change his mind another day, and 
warn me off his grounds." 

Elizabeth felt that they had entirely mistaken his character, but said 
nothing. 

"From what we have seen of him," continued Mrs. Gardiner, "I really 
should not have thought that he could have behaved in so cruel a way by 
anybody as he has done by poor Wickham. He has not an ill-natured look. 
On the contrary, there is something pleasing about his mouth when he 
speaks. And there is something of dignity in his countenance, that would 
not give one an unfavourable idea of his heart. But, to be sure, the good 
lady who showed us the house did give him a most flaming character ! I 
could hardly help laughing aloud sometimes. But he is a liberal master, I 
suppose, and that in the eye of a servant comprehends every virtue." 

Elizabeth here felt herself called on to say something in vindication of 
his behaviour to Wickham ; and therefore gave them to understand, in as 
guarded a manner as she could, that by what she had heard from his 
relations in Kent, his actions were capable of a very different construe- 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 38S 

tion ; and that his character was by no means so faulty, nor Wickham's so 
amiable, as they had been considered in Hertfordshire. In confirmation 
of this, she related the particulars of all the pecuniary transactions in 
which they had been connected, without actually naming her authority, 
but stating it to be such as might be relied on. 

Mrs. Gardiner was surprised and concerned; but as they were now 
approaching the scene of her former pleasures, every idea gave way to 
the charm of recollection ; and she was too much engaged in pointing out 
to her husband all the interesting spots in its environs to think of anything 
else. Fatigued as she had been by the morning's walk, they had no sooner 
dined than she set off again in quest of her former acquaintance, and the 
evening was spent in the satisfactions of an intercourse renewed after 
many years' discontinuance. 

The occurrences of the day were too full of interest to leave Elizabeth 
much attention for any of these new friends; and she could do nothing 
but think, and think with wonder, of Mr. Darcy's civility, and, above all, 
of his wishing her to be acquainted with his sister. 



Chapter 44 

ELIZABETH had settled it that Mr. Darcy would bring his sister to visit 
her the very day after her reaching Pemberley; and was consequently 
resolved not to be out of sight of the inn the whole of that morning. But 
her conclusion was false ; for on the very morning after their own arrival 
at Lambton, these visitors came. They had been walking about the place 
with some of their new friends, and were just returning to the inn to dress 
themselves for dining with the same family, when the sound of a carriage 
drew them to a window, and they saw a gentleman and lady in a curricle 
driving up the street. Elizabeth immediately recognising the livery, 
guessed what it meant, and imparted no small degree of surprise to her 
relations by acquainting them with the honour which she expected. Her 
uncle and aunt were all amazement; and the embarrassment of her 
manner as she spoke, joined to the circumstance itself, and many of the 
circumstances of the preceding day, opened to them a new idea on the 
business. Nothing had ever suggested it before, but they now felt that 
there was no other way of accounting for such attentions from such a 
quarter than by supposing a partiality for their niece. While these newly- 
born notions were passing in their heads, the perturbation of Elizabeth's 
feelings was every moment increasing. She was quite amazed at her own 
discomposure ; but amongst other causes of disquiet, she dreaded lest the 
partiality of the brother should have said too much in her favour; and, 
more than commonly anxious to please, she naturally suspected that every 
power of pleasing would fail her. 

She retreated from the window, fearful of being seen ; and as she walked 



3 86 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

up and down the room, endeavouring to compose herself, saw such looks 
of inquiring surprise in her uncle and aunt as made everything worse, 

Miss Darcy and her brother appeared, and this formidable introduction 
took place. With astonishment did Elizabeth see that her new acquaint- 
ance was at least as much embarrassed as herself. Since her being at 
Lambton, she had heard that Miss Darcy was exceedingly proud; but the 
observation of a very few minutes convinced her that she was only exceed- 
ingly shy. She found it difficult to obtain even a word from her beyond a 
monosyllable. 

Miss Darcy was tall, and on a larger scale than Elizabeth ; and, though 
little more than sixteen, her figure was formed, and her appearance 
womanly and graceful. She was less handsome than her brother ; but there 
was sense and good humour in her face, and her manners were perfectly 
unassuming and gentle. Elizabeth, who had expected to find in her as acute 
and unembarrassed an observer as ever Mr. Darcy had been, was much 
relieved by discerning such different feelings. 

They had not been long together before Darcy told her that Bingley 
was also coming to wait on her ; and she had barely time to express her 
satisfaction, and prepare for such a visitor, when Bingley's quick step was 
heard on the stairs, and in a moment he entered the room. All Elizabeth's 
anger against him had been long done away ; but had she still felt any, it 
could hardly have stood its ground against the unaffected cordiality with 
which he expressed himself on seeing her again. He inquired in a friendly, 
though general way, after her family, and looked and spoke with the same 
good-humoured ease that he had ever done. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner he was scarcely a less interesting personage 
than to herself. They had long wished to see him. The whole party before 
them, indeed, excited a lively attention. The suspicions which had just 
arisen of Mr. Darcy and their niece directed their observation towards 
each with an earnest though guarded inquiry; and they soon drew from 
those inquiries the full conviction that one of them at least knew what it 
was to love. Of the lady 's sensations they remained a little in doubt ; but 
that the gentleman was overflowing with admiration was evident enough. 

Elizabeth, on her side, had much to do. She wanted to ascertain the 
feelings of each of her visitors; she wanted to compose her own, and to 
make herself agreeable to all ; and in the latter object, where she feared 
most to fail, she was most sure of success, for those to whom she en- 
deavoured to give pleasure were prepossessed in her favour. Bingley was 
ready, Georgiana was eager, and Darcy determined, to be pleased. 

In seeing Bingley, her thoughts naturally flew to her sister; and oh! 
how ardently did she long to know whether any of his were directed in a 
like manner. Sometimes she could fancy that he talked less than on former 
occasions, and once or twice pleased herself with the notion that, as he 
looked at her, he was trying to trace a resemblance. But, though this 
might be imaginary, she could not be deceived as to his behaviour to Miss 
Darcy, who had been set up as a rival to Jane. No look appeared on either 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 387 

side that spoke particular regard. Nothing occurred between them that 
could justify the hopes of his sister. On this point she was soon satisfied; 
and two or three little circumstances occurred ere they parted, which, in 
!.er anxious interpretation, denoted a recollection of Jane not untinctured 
!.:y tenderness, and a wish of saying more that might lead to the mention 
of her, had he dared. He observed to her, at a moment when the others 
\vere talking together, and in a tone which had something of real regret, 
that it "was a very long time since he had had the pleasure of seeing her" ; 
and, before she could reply, he added, "It is above eight months. We have 
not met since the 26th of November, when we were all dancing together at 
Netherfield." 

Elizabeth was pleased to find his memory so exact ; and he afterwards 
took occasion to ask her, when unattended to by any of the rest, whether 
all her sisters were at Longbourn. There was not much in the question, 
nor in the preceding remark; but there was a look and a manner which 
gave them meaning. 

It was not often that she could turn her eyes on Mr. Darcy himself; 
but, whenever she did catch a glimpse, she saw an expression of general 
complaisance, and in all that he said she heard an accent so far removed 
from hauteur or disdain of his companions, as convinced her that the 
improvement of manners which she had yesterday witnessed however 
temporary its existence might prove, had at least outlived one day. When 
she saw him thus seeking the acquaintance and courting the good opinion 
of people with whom any intercourse a few months ago would have been 
a disgrace when she saw him thus civil, not only to herself, but to the 
very relations whom he had openly disdained, and recollected their last 
lively scene in Hunsford Parsonage the difference, the change was so 
great, and struck so forcibly on her mind, that she could hardly restrain 
her astonishment from being visible. Never, even in the company of his 
dear friends at Netherfield, or his dignified relations at Rosings, had she 
seen him so desirous to please, so free from self -consequence or unbending 
reserve, as now, when no importance could result from the success of his 
endeavours, and when even the acquaintance of those to whom his at- 
tentions were addressed would draw down the ridicule and censure of the 
ladies both of Netherfield and Rosings. 

Their visitors stayed with them above half-an-hour ; and when they 
arose to depart, Mr. Darcy called on his sister to join him in expressing 
their wish of seeing Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, and Miss Bennet, to dinner at 
Pemberley, before they left the country. Miss Darcy, though with a 
diffidence which marked her little in the habit of giving invitations, 
readily obeyed. Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece, desirous of knowing 
how she, whom the invitation most concerned, felt disposed as to its ac- 
ceptance, but Elizabeth had turned away her head. Presuming however, 
that this studied avoidance spoke rather a momentary embarrassment 
than any dislike of the proposal, and seeing in her husband, who was fond 



388 THE WO RKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

of society, a perfect willingness to accept it, she ventured to engage for 
her attendance, and the day after the next was fixed on. 

Bingley expressed great pleasure in the certainty of seeing Elizabeth 
again, having still a great deal to say to her, and many inquiries to make 
after all their Hertfordshire friends. Elizabeth, construing all this into a 
wish of hearing her speak of her sister, was pleased, and on this account, as 
well as some others, found herself, when their visitors left them, capable 
of considering the last half-hour with some satisfaction, though while it 
was passing, the enjoyment of it had been little. Eager to be alone, and 
fearful of inquiries or hints from her uncle and aunt, she stayed with them 
only long enough to hear their favourable opinion of Bingley, and then 
hurried away to dress. 

But she had no reason to fear Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's curiosity; it was 
not their wish to force her communication. It was evident that she was 
much better acquainted with Mr. Darcy than they had before any idea of; 
it was evident that he was very much in love with her. They saw much to 
interest, but nothing to justify inquiry. 

Of Mr. Darcy it was now a matter of anxiety to think well ; and, as far 
as their acquaintance reached, there was no fault to find. They could not 
be untouched by his politeness ; and had they drawn his character from 
their own feelings and his servant's report, without any reference to any 
other account, the circle in Hertfordshire to which he was known would 
not have recognised it for Mr. Darcy. There was now an interest, how- 
ever, in believing the housekeeper ; and they soon became sensible that the 
authority of a servant who had known him since he was four years old, and 
whose own manners indicated respectability, was not to be hastily re- 
jected. Neither had anything occurred in the intelligence of their Lamb- 
ton friends that could materially lessen its weight. They had nothing to 
accuse him of but pride ; pride he probably had, and if not, it would cer- 
tainly be imputed by the inhabitants of a small market-town where the 
family did not visit. It was acknowledged, however, that he was a liberal 
man, and did much good among the poor. 

With respect to Wickham, the travellers soon found that he was not 
held there in much estimation; for though the chief of his concerns with 
the son of his patron were imperfectly understood, it was yet a well- 
known fact that, on his quitting Derbyshire, he had left many debts be^ 
hind him, which Mr. Darcy afterwards discharged. 

As for Elizabeth, her thoughts were at Pemberley this evening more 
than the last ; and the evening, though as it passed it seemed long, was not 
long enough to determine her feelings towards one in that mansion ; and 
she lay awake two whole hours endeavouring to make them out. She cer- 
tainly did not hate him. No ; hatred had vanished long ago, and she had 
almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him, that 
could be so called. The respect created by the conviction of his valuable 
qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for some time ceased 
to be repugnant to her feeling ; and it was now heightened into somewhat 



PRIDE AND PREJUDICE 389 

of a friendlier nature, by the testimony so highly in his favour, and bring- 
ing forward his disposition in so amiable a light, which yesterday had pro- 
duced. But above all, above respect and esteem, there was a motive within 
her of goodwill which could not be overlooked. It was gratitude; grati- 
tude, not merely for having once loved her, but for loving her still well 
enough to forgive all the petulance and acrimony of her manner in reject- 
ing him, and all the unjust accusations accompanying her rejection. He 
who, she had been persuaded, would avoid her as his greatest enemy, 
seemed, on this accidental meeting, most eager to preserve the acquaint- 
ance, and without any indelicate display of regard, or any peculiarity of 
manner, where their two selves only were concerned, was soliciting the 
good opinion of her friends, and bent on making her known to his sister. 
Such a change in a man of so much pride excited not only astonishment 
but gratitude for to love, ardent love, it must be attributed ; and as such 
its impression on her was of a sort to be encouraged, as by no means un- 
pleasing, though it could not be exactly defined. She respected, she es- 
teemed, she was grateful to him, she felt a real interest in his welfare ; and 
she only wanted to know how far she wished that welfare to depend upon 
herself, and how far it would be for the happiness of both that she should 
employ the power, which her fancy told her she still possessed, of bringing 
on the renewal of his addresses. 

It had been settled in the evening between the aunt and niece, that such 
a striking civility as Miss Darcy's in coming to them on the very day of 
her arrival at Pemberley, for she had reached it only to a late breakfast, 
ought to be imitated, though it could not be equalled, by some exertion of 
politeness on their side ; and, consequently, that it would be highly expe- 
dient to wait on her at Pemberley the following morning. They were, there- 
fore, to go. Elizabeth was pleased; though when she asked herself the 
reason, she had very little to say in reply. 

Mr. Gardiner left them soon after breakfast. The fishing scheme had 
been renewed the day before, and a positive engagement made of his 
meeting some of the gentlemen at Pemberley by noon. 



Chapter 45 

CONVINCED as Elizabeth now was that Miss Bingley's dislike of her 
had originated in jealousy, she could not help feeling how very unwelcome 
her appearance at Pemberley must be to her, and was curious to know 
with how much civility on that lady's side the acquaintance would now 
be renewed. 

On reaching the house, they were shown through the hall into the 
saloon, whose northern aspect rendered it delightful for summer. Its win- 
dows opening to the ground, admitted a most refreshing view of the high 
woody hills behind the house, and of the beautiful oaks and Spanish chest- 
nuts which were scattered over the intermediate lawn. 



390 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

In this room they were received by Miss Darcy, who was sitting there 
with Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and the lady with whom she lived in 
London. Georgiana's reception of them was very civil, but attended with 
all that embarrassment which, though proceeding from shyness and the 
fear of doing wrong, would easily give to those who felt themselves in- 
ferior the belief of her being proud and reserved. Mrs. Gardiner and her 
niece, however, did her justice, and pitied her. 

By Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley they were noticed only by a curtsey; 
and, on their being seated, a pause, awkward as such pauses must always 
be, succeeded for a few moments. It was first broken by Mrs. Annesley, a 
genteel, agreeable-looking woman, whose endeavour to introduce some 
kind of discourse proved her to be more truly well-bred than either of the 
others; and between her and Mrs. Gardiner, with occasional help from 
Elizabeth, the conversation was carried on. Miss Darcy looked as if she 
wished for courage enough to join in it ; and sometimes did venture a short 
sentence when there was least danger of its being heard. 

Elizabeth soon saw that she was herself closely watched by Miss Bing- 
ley, and that she could not speak a word, especially to Miss Darcy, with- 
out calling her attention. This observation would not have prevented her 
from trying to talk to the latter, had they not been seated at an incon- 
venient distance ; but she was not sorry to be spared the necessity of say- 
ing much. Her own thoughts were employing her. She expected every 
moment that some of the gentlemen would enter the room. She wished, 
she feared that the master of the house might be amongst them; and 
whether she wished or feared it most, she could scarcely determine. After 
sitting in this manner a quarter of an hour without hearing Miss Bingley's 
voice, Elizabeth was roused by receiving from her a cold inquiry after 
the health of her family. She answered with equal indifference and brev- 
ity, and the others said no more. 

The next variation which their visit afforded was produced by the 
entrance of servants with cold meat, cake, and a variety of all the finest 
fruits in season ; but this did not take place till after many a significant 
look and smile from Mrs. Annesley to Miss Darcy had been given, to 
remind her of her post. There was now employment for the whole party 
for though they could not all talk, they could all eat; and the beau- 
tiful pyramids of grapes, nectarines, and peaches soon collected them 
round the table. 

While thus engaged, Elizabeth had a fair opportunity of deciding 
whether she most feared or wished for the appearance of Mr. Darcy, by 
the feelings which prevailed on his entering the room ; and then, though 
but a moment before she had believed her wishes to predominate, she 
began to regret that he came. 

He had been some time with Mr. Gardiner, who, with two or three other 
gentlemen from the house, was engaged by the river, and had left him 
only on learning that the ladies of the family intended a visit to Georgiana 
that morning. No sooner did he appear than Elizabeth wisely resolved to 



PRIDE AND PREJUDICE 391' 

be perfectly easy and unembarrassed ; a resolution the more necessary to 
be made, but perhaps not the more easily kept, because she saw that the 
suspicions of the whole party were awakened against them, and that there 
was scarcely an eye which did not watch his behaviour when he first came 
into the room. In no countenance was attentive curiosity so strongly 
marked as in Miss Bingley's, in spite of the smiles which overspread her 
face whenever she spoke to one of its objects; for jealousy had not yet 
made her desperate, and her attentions to Mr. Darcy were by no means 
over. Miss Darcy, on her brother's entrance, exerted herself much more 
to talk, and Elizabeth saw that he was anxious for his sister and herself 
to get acquainted, and forwarded as much as possible, every attempt at 
conversation on either side. Miss Bingley saw all this likewise; and, in 
the imprudence of anger, took the first opportunity of saying, with sneer- 
ing civility: 

"Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the shire Militia removed from Mery- 

ton ? They must be a great loss to your family." 

In Darcy's presence she dared not mention Wickham's name; but 
Elizabeth instantly comprehended that he was uppermost in her thoughts; 
and the various recollections connected with him gave her a moment's 
distress; but exerting herself vigorously to repel the ill-natured attack, 
she presently answered the question in a tolerably disengaged tone. While 
she spoke, an involuntary glance showed her Darcy, with a heightened 
complexion, earnestly looking at her, and his sister overcome with con- 
fusion, and unable to lift up her eyes. Had Miss Bingley known what pain 
she was then giving her beloved friend, she undoubtedly would have 
refrained from the hint; but she had merely intended to discompose 
Elizabeth by bringing forward the idea of a man to whom she believed 
her partial, to make her betray a sensibility which might injure her in 
Darcy's opinion, and, perhaps, to remind the latter of all the follies and 
absurdities by which some part of her family were connected with that 
corps. Not a syllable had ever reached her of Miss Darcy's meditated 
elopement. To no creature had it been revealed, where secrecy was possible, 
except to Elizabeth ; and from all Bingley's connections her brother was 
particularly anxious to conceal it, from that very wish which Elizabeth 
had long ago attributed to him, of their becoming hereafter her own. He 
had certainly formed such a plan, and without meaning that it should 
effect his endeavour to separate him from Miss Bennet, it is probable that 
it might add something to his lively concern for the welfare of his friend. 

Elizabeth's collected behaviour, however, soon quieted his emotion; 
and as Miss Bingley, vexed and disappointed, dared not approach nearer 
to Wickham, Georgiana also recovered in time, though not enough to be 
able to speak any more. Her brother, whose eye she feared to meet, 
scarcely recollected her interest in the affair, and the very circumstance 
which had been designed to turn his thoughts from Elizabeth seemed to 
have fixed them on her more and more cheerfully. 

Their visit did not continue long after the question and answer above 



392 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

mentioned; and while Mr. Darcy was attending them to their carriage 
Miss Bingley was venting her feelings in criticisms on Elizabeth's person, 
behaviour, and dress. But Georgiana would not join her. Her brother's 
recommendation was enough to ensure her favour ; his judgment could not 
err, and he had spoken in such terms of Elizabeth as to leave Georgiana 
without the power of rinding her otherwise than lovely and amiable. When 
Darcy returned to the saloon, Miss Bingley could not help repeating to 
him some part of what she had been saying to his sister. 

"How very ill Eliza Bennet looks this morning, Mr. Darcy," she cried; 
"I never in my life saw any one so much altered as she is since the winter. 
She is grown so brown and coarse! Louisa and I were agreeing that we 
should not have known her again." 

However little Mr. Darcy might have liked such an address, he con- 
tented himself with coolly replying that he perceived no other alteration 
than her being rather tanned, no miraculous consequence of travelling 
in the summer. 

"For my own part," she rejoined, "I must confess that I never could 
see any beauty in her. Her face is too thin ; her complexion has no bril- 
liancy ; and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose wants charac- 
ter there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are tolerable, but not 
out of the common way ; and as for her eyes, which have sometimes been 
called so fine, I never could perceive anything extraordinary in them. 
They have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do not like at all ; and in her 
air altogether there is a self-sufficiency without fashion, which is in- 
tolerable." 

Persuaded as Miss Bingley was that Darcy admired Elizabeth, this was 
not the best method of recommending herself ; but angry people are not 
always wise ; and in seeing him at last look somewhat nettled, she had all 
the success she expected. He was resolutely silent, however, and, from 
a determination of making him speak, she continued: 

"I remember, when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed 
we all were to find that she was a reputed beauty ; and I particularly rec- 
ollect your saying one night, after they had been dining at Netherfield, 
'She a beauty! I should as soon call her mother a wit.' But afterwards she 
seemed to improve on you, an.d I believe you thought her rather pretty 
at one time." 

"Yes," replied Darcy, who could contain himself no longer, "but that 
was only when I first knew her, for it is many months since I have con- 
sidered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintances." 

He then went away, and Miss Bingley was left to all the satisfaction 
of having forced him to say what gave no one any pain but herself. 

Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth talked of all that had occurred during their 
visit, as they returned, except what had particularly interested them both. 
The look and behaviour of everybody they had seen were discussed, ex- 
cept of the person who had mostly engaged their attention. They talked 
of his sister, his friends, his house, his fruit of everything but himself; 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 393 

yet Elizabeth was longing to know what Mrs. Gardiner thought of him, 
and Mrs. Gardiner would have been highly gratified by her niece's begin- 
ning the subject. 

Chapter 46 

ELIZABETH had been a good deal disappointed in not finding a letter 
from Jane on their first arrival at Lambton ; and this disappointment had 
been renewed on each of the mornings that had now been spent there ; but 
on the third her repining was over, and her sister justified, by the receipt 
of two letters from her at once, on one of which was marked that it had 
been missent elsewhere. Elizabeth was not surprised at it, as Jane had 
written the direction remarkably ill. 

They had just been preparing to walk as the letters came in; and her 
uncle and aunt, leaving her to enjoy them in quiet, set off by themselves. 
The one missent must be first attended to ; it had been written five days 
ago. The beginning contained an account of all their little parties and 
engagements, with such news as the country afforded; but the latter half, 
which was dated a day later, and written in evident agitation, gave more 
important intelligence. It was to this effect: 

"Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurred of a 
most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you 
be assured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to poor Lydia. 
An express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed, from 
Colonel Forster, to inform us that she was gone off to Scotland with one 
of his officers; to own the truth, with Wickham! Imagine our surprise. 
To Kitty, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected. I am very, 
very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides ! But I am willing to hope 
the best, and that his character has been misunderstood. Thoughtless 
and indiscreet I can easily believe him, but this step (and let us rejoice 
over it) marks nothing bad at heart. His choice is disinterested at least, 
for he must know my father can give her nothing. Our poor mother is 
sadly grieved. My father bears it better. How thankful am I that we never 
let them know what has been said against him! we must forget it our- 
selves. They were off Saturday night about twelve, as is conjectured, but 
were not missed till yesterday morning at eight. The express was sent off 
directly. My dear Lizzy, they must have passed within ten miles of us. 
Colonel Forster gives us reason to expect him here soon. Lydia left a few 
lines for his wife, informing her of their intention. I must conclude, for I 
cannot be long from my poor mother. I am afraid you will not be able to 
make it out, but I hardly know what I have written." 

Without allowing herself time for consideration, and scarcely knowing 
what she felt, Elizabeth on finishing this letter instantly seized the other, 
and opening it with the utmost impatience, read as follows: it had been 
written a day later than the conclusion of the first. 

"By this time, by dearest sister, vou have received my hurried letter; 



394 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

I wish this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, 
my head is so bewildered that I cannot answer for being coherent. Dear- 
est Lizzy, I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news for you, 
and it cannot be delayed. Imprudent as a marriage between Mr. Wickham 
and our poor Lydia would be, we are now anxious to be assured it has 
taken place, for there is but too much reason to fear they are not gone 
to Scotland. Colonel Forster came yesterday, having left Brighton the 
day before, not many hours after the express. Though Lydia's short letter 
to Mrs. F. gave them to understand that they were going to Gretna Green, 
something was dropped by Denny expressing his belief that W. never 
intended to go there, or to marry Lydia at all, which was repeated to 
Colonel F., who, instantly, taking the alarm, set off from B., intending to 
trace their route. He did trace them easily to Clapham, but no further; 
for on entering that place, they removed into a hackney coach, and dis- 
missed the chaise that brought them from Epsom. All that is known after 
this is, that they were seen to continue the London road. I know not what 
to think. After making every possible inquiry on that side London, Colonel 
F. came on into Hertfordshire, anxiously renewing them at all the turn- 
pikes, and at the inns in Barnet and Hatfield, but without any success 
no such people had been seen to pass through. With the kindest concern 
he came on to Longbourn, and broke his apprehensions to us in a man- 
ner most creditable to his heart. I am sincerely grieved for him and Mrs. 
F., but no one can throw any blame on them. Our distress, my dear Lizzy, 
is very great. My father and mother believe the worst, but I cannot think 
so ill of him. Many circumstances might make it more eligible for them 
to be married privately in town than to pursue their first plan ; and even 
if he could form such a design against a young woman of Lydia's connec- 
tions, which is not likely, can I suppose her so lost to everything? Impos- 
sible! I grieve to find, however, that Colonel F. is not disposed to depend 
upon their marriage ; he shook his head when I expressed my hopes, and 
said he feared W. was not a man to be trusted. My poor mother is really 
ill, and keeps her room. Could she exert herself, it would be better ; but 
this is not to be expected. And as to my father, I never in my life saw him 
so affected. Poor Kitty has anger for having concealed their attachment ; 
but as it was a matter of confidence, one cannot wonder. I am truly glad, 
dearest Lizzy, that you have been spared something of these distressing 
scenes ; but now, as the first shock is over, shall I own that I long for your 
return? I am not so selfish, however, as to press for it, if inconvenient. 
Adieu! I take up my pen again to do what I have just told you I would 
not ; but circumstances are such that I cannot help earnestly begging you 
all to come here as soon as possible. I know my dear uncle and aunt so 
well, that I am not afraid of requesting it, though I have still something 
more to ask of the former. My father is going to London with Colonel 
Forster instantly, to try to discover her. What he means to do I am sure 
I know not ; but his excessive distress will not allow him to pursue any 
measure in the best and safest way, and Colonel Forster is obliged to be 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 395 

at Brighton again to-morrow evening. In such an exigence, my uncle's 
advice and assistance would be everything in the world ; he will immedi- 
ately comprehend what I must feel, and I rely upon his goodness." 

"Oh! where, where is my uncle?" cried Elizabeth, darting from her seat 
as she finished the letter, in eagerness to follow him, without losing a 
moment of the time so precious ; but as she reached the door it was opened 
by a servant, and Mr. Darcy appeared. Her pale face and impetuous 
manner made him start, and before he could recover himself to speak, 
she, in whose mind every idea was superseded by Lydia's situation, hastily 
exclaimed, "I beg your pardon, but I must leave you. I must find Mr. 
Gardiner this moment, on business that cannot be delayed ; I have not an 
instant to lose." 

"Good God! what is the matter?" cried he, with more feeling than 
politeness; then recollecting himself, "I will not detain you a minute; but 
let me, or let the servant go after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. You are not 
well enough; you cannot go yourself." 

Elizabeth hesitated, but her knees trembled under her and she felt how 
little would be gained by her attempting to pursue them. Calling back the 
servant, therefore, she commissioned him, though in so breathless an ac- 
cent as made her almost unintelligible, to fetch his master and mistress 
home instantly. 

On his quitting the room she sat down, unable to support herself, and 
looking so miserably ill, that it was impossible for Darcy to leave her, or 
to refrain from saying, in a tone of gentleness and commiseration, "Let 
me call your maid. Is there nothing you could take to give you present 
relief? A glass of wine; shall I get you one? You are very ill." 

"No, I thank you," she replied, endeavouring to recover herself. "There 
is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well; I am only distressed by 
some dreadful news which I have just received from Longbourn." 

She burst into tears as she alluded to it, and for a few minutes could not 
speak another word. Darcy, in wretched suspense, could only say some- 
thing indistinctly of his concern, and observe her in compassionate silence. 
At length she spoke again. "I have just had a letter from Jane, with such 
dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from any one. My younger sister 
has left all her friends has eloped ; has thrown herself into the power of 
of Mr. Wickham. They are gone off together from Brighton. You know 
him too well to doubt the rest. She has no money, no connections, nothing 
that can tempt him to she is lost for ever." 

Darcy was fixed in astonishment. "When I consider," she added in a yet 
more agitated voice, "that 7 might have prevented it! /, who knew what 
he was. Had I but explained some part of it only some part of what I 
learnt, to my own family! Had his character been known, this could not 
have happened. But it is all all too late now." 

"I am grieved indeed," cried Darcy; "grieved shocked. But is it cer- 
tain absolutely certain?" 

"Oh yes! They left Brighton together on Sunday night, and were traced 



396 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

almost to London, but not beyond: they are certainly not gone to Scot- 
land." 

"And what has been done, what has been attempted, to recover her?" 

"My father is gone to London, and Jane has written to beg my uncle's 
immediate assistance; and we shall be off, I hope, in half-an-hour. But 
nothing can be done I know very well that nothing can be done. How is 
such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have 
not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible!" 

Darcy shook his head in silent acquiescence. 

"When my eyes were opened to his real character Oh ! had I known 
what I ought, what I dared to do ! But I knew not I was afraid of doing 
too much. Wretched, wretched mistake! " 

Darcy made no answer. He seemed scarcely to hear her, and was walk- 
ing up and down the room in earnest meditation, his brow contracted, his 
air gloomy. Elizabeth soon observed, and instantly understood it. Her 
power was sinking; everything must sink under such a proof of family 
weakness, such an assurance of the deepest disgrace. She could neither 
wonder nor condemn, but the belief of his self-conquest brought nothing 
consolatory to her bosom, afforded no palliation of her distress. It was, on 
the contrary, exactly calculated to make her understand her own wishes ; 
and never had she so honestly felt that she could have loved him, as now, 
when all love must be vain. 

But self, though it would intrude, could not engross her. Lydia the 
humiliation, the misery she was bringing on them all, soon swallowed up 
every private care ; and covering her face with her handkerchief, Elizabeth 
was soon lost to everything else; and, after a pause of several minutes, 
was only recalled to a sense of her situation by the voice of her companion, 
who, in a manner which, though it spoke compassion, spoke likewise re- 
straint, said, "I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor 
have I anything to plead in excuse of my stay, but real, though unavail- 
ing, concern. Would to Heaven that anything could be either said or done 
on my part that might offer consolation to such distress! But I will not 
torment you with vain wishes, which may seem purposely to ask for your 
thanks. This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister's having the 
pleasure of seeing you at Pemberley to-day." 

"Oh yes. Be so kind as to apologise for us to Miss Darcy. Say that ur- 
gent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as 
long as it is possible, I know it cannot be long." 

He readily assured her of his secrecy ; again expressed his sorrow for her 
distress, wished it a happier conclusion than there was at present reason to 
hope, and leaving his compliments for her relations, with only one serious, 
parting look, went away. 

As he quitted the room, Elizabeth felt how improbable it was that they 
should ever see each other again on such terms of cordiality as had marked 
their several meetings in Derbyshire; and as she threw a retrospective 
glance over the whole of their acquaintance, so full of contradictions and 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 397 

varieties, sighed at the perverseness of those feelings which would now 
have promoted its continuance, and would formerly have rejoiced in its 
termination. 

If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection, Elizabeth's 
change of sentiment will be neither improbable nor faulty. But if other- 
wise if the regard springing from such sources is unreasonable or un- 
natural, in comparison of what is so often described as arising on a first 
interview with its object, and even before two words have been exchanged, 
nothing can be said in her defence, except that she had given somewhat 
of a trial to the latter method in her partiality for Wickham, and that its 
ill success might, perhaps, authorise her to seek the other less interesting 
mode of attachment. Be that as it may, she saw him go with regret ; and in 
this early example of what Lydia's infamy must produce, found additional 
anguish as she reflected on that wretched business. Never, since reading 
Jane's second letter, had she entertained a hope of Wickham's meaning to 
marry her. No one but Jane, she thought, could flatter herself with such 
an expectation. Surprise was the least of her feelings on this development. 
While the contents of the first letter remained on her mind, she was all 
surprise all astonishment that Wickham should marry a girl whom it 
was impossible he could marry for money ; and how Lydia could ever have 
attached him had appeared incomprehensible. But now it was all too 
natural. For such an attachment as this she might have sufficient charm ; 
and though she did not suppose Lydia to be deliberately engaging in an 
elopement without the intention of marriage, she had no difficulty in be- 
lieving that neither her virtue nor her understanding would preserve her 
from falling an easy prey. 

She had never perceived, while the regiment was in Hertfordshire, that 
Lydia had any partiality for him ; but she was convinced that Lydia had 
wanted only encouragement to attach herself to anybody. Sometimes one 
officer, sometimes another, had been her favourite, as their attentions 
raised them in her opinion. Her affections had been continually fluctuating 
but never without an object. The mischief of neglect and mistaken in- 
dulgence towards such a girl oh! how acutely did she now feel it! 

She was wild to be at home to hear, to see, to be upon the spot to 
share with Jane in the cares that must now fall wholly upon her, in a 
family so deranged, a father absent, a mother incapable of exertion, and 
requiring constant attendance ; and though almost persuaded that nothing 
could be done for Lydia, her uncle's interference seemed of the utmost 
importance, and till he entered the room the misery of her impatience was 
severe. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had hurried back in alarm, supposing by the 
servant's account that their niece was taken suddenly ill ; but satisfying 
them instantly on that head, she eagerly communicated the cause of their 
summons, reading the two letters aloud, and dwelling on the postscript of 
the last with trembling energy, though Lydia had never been a favourite 
with them. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner could not but be deeply afflicted. Not 
Lydia only, but all were concerned in it ; and after the first exclamations 



J98 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

of surprise and horror, Mr. Gardiner readily promised every assistance in 
his power. Elizabeth, though expecting no less, thanked him with tears of 
gratitude ; and all three being actuated by one spirit, everything relating 
to their journey was speedily settled. They were to be off as soon as 
possible. "But what is to be done about Pemberley?" cried Mrs. Gardiner. 
"John told us Mr. Darcy was here when you sent for us; was it so?" 

"Yes; and I told him we should not be able to keep our engagement. 
That is all settled." 

"What is all settled?" repeated the other, as she ran into her room to 
prepare. "And are they upon such terms as for her to disclose the real 
truth? Oh, that I knew how it was!" 

But wishes were vain, or at least could serve only to amuse her in the 
hurry and confusion of the following hour. Had Elizabeth been at leisure 
to be idle, she would have remained certain that all employment was 
impossible to one so wretched as herself ; but she had her share of business 
as well as her aunt, and amongst the rest there were notes to be written to 
all their friends at Lambton, with false excuses for their sudden departure. 
An hour, however, saw the whole completed ; and Mr. Gardiner meanwhile 
having settled his account at the inn, nothing remained to be done but to 
go ; and Elizabeth, after all the misery of the morning, found herself, in a 
shorter space of time than she could have supposed, seated in the carriage, 
and on the road to Longbourn. 



Chapter 47 

"I HAVE been thinking it over again, Elizabeth," said her u/icle, as they 
drove from the town; "and really, upon serious consideration, I am much 
more inclined than I was to judge as your eldest sister does on the matter. 
It appears to me so very unlikely that any young man should form such a 
design against a girl who is by no means unprotected or friendless, and 
who was actually staying in his colonel's family, that I am strongly in- 
clined to hope the best. Could he expect that her friends would not step 
forward? Could be expect to be noticed again by the regiment, after such 
an affront to Colonel Forster? His temptation is not adequate to the 
risk!" 

"Do you really think so?" cried Elizabeth, brightening up for a mo- 
ment. 

"Upon my word," said Mrs. Gardiner, "I begin to be of your uncle's 
opinion. It is really too great a violation of decency, honour, and interest, 
for him to be guilty of it. I cannot think so very \\\ of Wickham. Can you 
yourself, Lizzy, so wholly give him up, as to believe him capable of it?" 

"Not, perhaps, of neglecting his own interest; but of every other neglect 
I can believe him capable. If, indeed, it should be so! But I dare not hope 
it. Why should they not go on to Scotland if that had been the case?" 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 399 

"In the first place," replied Mr. Gardiner, "there is no absolute proof 
that they are not gone to Scotland." 

'Oh! but their removing from the chaise into a hackney coach is such 
a presumption! And, besides, no traces of them were to be found on the 
Barnet road." 

"Well, then supposing them to be in London. They may be there, 
though for the purpose of concealment, for no more exceptional purpose. 
It is not likely that money should be very abundant on either side ; and it 
might strike them that they could be more economically, though less 
expeditiously, married in London than in Scotland." 

"But why all this secrecy? Why any fear of detection? Why must their 
marriage be private? Oh, no, no this is not likely. His most particular 
friend, you see by Jane's account, was persuaded of his never intending 
to marry her. Wickham will never marry a woman without some money. 
He cannot afford it. And what claims has Lydia what attraction has she 
beyond youth, health, and good humour that could make him, for her 
sake, forego every chance of benefiting himself by marrying well? As to 
what restraint the apprehensions of disgrace in the corps might throw on a 
dishonourable elopement with her, I am not able to judge; for I know 
nothing of the effects that such a step might produce. But as to your othei 
objection, I am afraid it will hardly hold good. Lydia has no brothers to 
step forward; and he might imagine, from my father's behaviour, from 
his indolence and the little attention he has ever seemed to give to what 
was going forward in his family, that he would do as little, and think as 
little about it, as any father could do, in such a matter." 

"But can you think that Lydia is so lost to everything but love of him 
as to consent to live with him on any other terms than marriage?" 

"It does seem, and it is most shocking indeed," replied Elizabeth, with 
tears in her eyes, "that a sister's sense of decency and virtue in such a 
point should admit of doubt. But, really, I know not what to say. Perhaps 
I am not doing her justice. But she is very young; she has never beer 
taught to think on serious subjects; and for the last half-year, nay, for a 
twelvemonth she has been given up to nothing but amusement and 
vanity. She has been allowed to dispose of her time in the most idle and 
frivolous manner, and to adopt any opinions that came in her way. Since 

the shire were first quartered in Meryton, nothing but love, flirtation, 

and officers have been in her head. She has been doing everything in her 
power by thinking and talking on the subject, to give greater what shall 
I call it? susceptibility to her feelings; which are naturally lively enough. 
And we all know that Wickham has every charm of person and address 
that can captivate a woman." 

"But you see that Jane," said her aunt, "does not think so ill of Wick- 
ham as to believe him capable of the attempt." 

"Of whom does Jane ever think ill? And who is there, whatever might 
be their former conduct, that she would believe capable of such an attempt, 
till it were proved against them? But Jane knows, as well as I do, what 



400 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

Wickham really is. We both know that he has been profligate in every 
sense of the word ; that he has neither integrity nor honour ; that he is as 
false and deceitful as he is insinuating." 

"And do you really know all this?" cried Mrs. Gardiner, whose curi- 
osity as to the mode of her intelligence was all alive. 

"I do indeed," replied Elizabeth, colouring. "I told you, the other day, 
of his infamous behaviour to Mr. Darcy ; and you yourself, when last at 
Longbourn, heard in what manner he spoke of the man who had behaved 
with such forbearance and liberality towards him. And there are other 
circumstances which I am not at liberty which it is not worth while to 
relate; but his lies about the whole Pemberley family are endless. From 
what he said of Miss Darcy I was thoroughly prepared to see a proud, 
reserved, disagreeable girl. Yet he knew to the contrary himself. He must 
know that she was as amiable and unpretending as we have found her." 

"But does Lydia know nothing of this? can she be ignorant of what 
you and Jane seem so well to understand?" 

"Oh yes! that, that is the worst of all. Till I was in Kent, and saw so 
much both of Mr. Darcy and his relation Colonel Fitzwilliam, I was 

ignorant of the truth myself. And when I returned home, the shire 

was to leave Meryton in a week or fortnight's time. As that was the case, 
neither Jane, to whom I related the whole, nor I, thought it necessary to 
make our knowledge public ; for of what use could it apparently be to any 
one, that the good opinion which all the neighbourhood had of him should 
then be overthrown? And even when it was settled that Lydia should go 
with Mrs. Forster, the necessity of opening her eyes to his character never 
occurred to me. That she could be in any danger from the deception never 
entered my head. That such a consequence as this should ensue, you may 
easily believe, was far enough from my thoughts." 

"When they all removed to Brighton, therefore, you had no reason, I 
suppose, to believe them fond of each other?" 

"Not the slightest. I can remember no symptom of affection on either 
side ; and had anything of the kind been perceptible, you must be aware 
that ours is not a family on which it could be thrown away. When first he 
entered the corps, she was ready enough to admire him ; but so we all were. 
Every girl in or near Meryton was out of her senses about him for the first 
two months ; but he never distinguished her by any particular attention ; 
and, consequently, after a moderate period of extravagant and wild 
admiration, her fancy for him gave way, and others of the regiment, who 
treated her with more distinction, again became her favourites." 

It may be easily believed, that however little of novelty could be added 
to their fears, hopes, and conjectures, on this interesting subject, by its 
repeated discussion, no other could detain them from it long, during the 
whole of the journey. From Elizabeth's thoughts it was never absent. 
Fixed there by the keenest of all anguish, self-reproach, she could find no 
interval of ease or forgetfulness. 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 401 

They travelled as expeditiously as possible, and, sleeping one night on 
the road, reached Longbourn by dinner time the next day. It was a com- 
fort to Elizabeth to consider that Jane could not have been wearied by 
long expectations. 

The little Gardiners, attracted by the sight of a chaise, were standing on 
the steps of the house as they entered the paddock ; and, when the carriage 
drove up to the door, the joyful surprise that lighted up their faces, and 
displayed itself over their whole bodies, in a variety of capers and frisks, 
was the first pleasing earnest of their welcome. 

Elizabeth jumped out; and, after giving each of them a hasty kiss, 
hurried into the vestibule, where Jane, who came running downstairs from 
her mother's apartment, immediately met her. 

Elizabeth, as she affectionately embraced her, whilst tears filled the 
eyes of both, lost not a moment in asking whether anything had been 
heard of the fugitives. 

"Not yet," replied Jane. "But now that my dear uncle is come, I hope 
everything will be well." 

"Is my father in town?" 

"Yes, he went on Tuesday, as I wrote you word." 

"And have you heard from him often?" 

"We have heard only once. He wrote me a few lines on Wednesday, to 
say that he had arrived in safety, and to give me his directions, which I 
particularly begged him to do. He merely added that he should not write 
again till he had something of importance to mention." 

"And my mother how is she? How are you all?" 

"My mother is tolerably well, I trust; though her spirits are greatly 
shaken. She is upstairs, and will have great satisfaction in seeing you all. 
She does not yet leave her dressing-room. Mary and Kitty, thank Heaven, 
are quite well." 

"But you how are you?" cried Elizabeth. "You look pale. How much 
you must have gone through! " 

Her sister, however, assured her of her being perfectly well ; and their 
conversation, which had been passing while Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were 
engaged with their children, was now put an end to by the approach of the 
whole party. Jane ran to her uncle and aunt, and welcomed and thanked 
them both, with alternate smiles and tears. 

W T hen they were all in the drawing-room, the questions which Elizabeth 
had already asked were of course repeated by the others, and they soon 
found that Jane had no intelligence to give. The sanguine hope of good, 
however, which the benevolence of her heart suggested had not yet 
deserted her; she still expected that it would all end well, and that every 
morning would bring some letter, either from Lydia or her father, to 
explain their proceedings, and, perhaps, announce the marriage. 

Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few minutes' 
conversation together, received them exactly as might be expected ; with 
tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villainous conduct 



^02 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

of Wickham, and complaints of her own sufferings and ill-usage; blaming 
everybody but the person to whose ill-judging indulgence the errors of 
her daughter must be principally owing. 

"If I had been able," said she, "to carry my point in going to Brighton, 
with all my family, this would not have happened: but poor dear Lydia 
had nobody to take care of her. Why did the Forsters ever let her go out 
of their sight? I am sure there was some great neglect or other on their 
side, for she ib not the kind of girl to do such a thing if she had been well 
looked after. ' Always thought they were very unfit to have the charge of 
her ; but I was overruled, as I always am. Poor dear child ! And now here's 
Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will fight Wickham, wherever he 
meets him and then he will be killed, and what is to become of us all? 
The Collinses will turn us out before he is cold in his grave, and if you 
are not kind to us, brother, I do not know what we shall do." 

They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas ; and Mr. Gardiner, after 
general assurances of his affection for her and all her family, told her that 
ne meant to be in London the very next day, and would assist Mr. Bennet 
in every endeavour for recovering Lydia. 

'Do not give way to useless alarm," added he; "though it is right to be 
prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain. It is 
not quite a week since they left Brighton. In a few days more we may 
gain some news of them; and till we know that they are not married, and 
have no design of marrying, do not let us give the matter over as lost. As 
soon as I get to town I shall go to my brother, and make him come home 
with me to Gracechurch Street ; and then we may consult together as to 
what is to be done." 

"Oh! my dear brother," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that is exactly what I 
could most wish for. And now do, when you get to town, find them out, 
wherever they may be ; and if they are not married already, make them 
marry. And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, but tell 
Lydia she shall have as much money as she chooses to buy them, after they 
are married. And, above all things, keep Mr. Bennet from fighting. Tell 
him what a dreadful state I am in, that I am frighted out of my wits 
and have such tremblings, such flutterings, all over me such spasms in 
my side and pains in my head, and such beatings at heart, that I can get 
no rest by night nor by day. And tell my dear Lydia not to give any 
directions about her clothes till she has seen me, for she does not know 
which are the best warehouses. Oh, brother, how 'kind you are! I know you 
will contrive it all." 

But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again of his earnest endeavours 
in the cause, could not avoid recommending moderation to her, as well in 
her hopes as her fears ; and after talking with her in this manner till dinner 
was on table, they left her to vent all her feelings on the housekeeper, who 
attended in the absence of her daughters. 

Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was no real 
occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did not attempt to 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 403 

oppose it, for they knew that she had not prudence enough to hold her 
tongue before the servants, while they waited at table, and judged it 
better that one only of the household, and the one whom they could 
most trust should comprehend all her fears and solicitude on the subject. 

In the dining-room they were soon joined by Mary and Kitty, who had 
been too busily engaged in their separate apartments to make their 
appearance before. One came from her books, and the other from her 
toilette. The faces of both, however, were tolerably calm ; and no change 
was visible in either, except that the loss of her favourite sister, or the 
anger which she had herself incurred in the business, had given something 
more of fretfulness than usual to the accents of Kitty. As for Mary, she 
was mistress enough of herself to .whisper to Elizabeth, with a countenance 
of grave reflection, soon after they were seated at table: 

"This is a most unfortunate affair, and will probably be much talked 
of. But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into the wounded 
bosoms of each other the balm of sisterly consolation." 

Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, she added, 
"Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw from it this 
useful lesson : that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable ; that one false 
step involves her in endless ruin; that her reputation is no less brittle 
than it is beautiful; and that she cannot be too much guarded in her 
behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex." 

Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much oppressed 
to make any reply. Mary, however, continued to console herself with such 
kind of moral extractions from the evil before them. 

In the afternoon, the two elder Miss Bennets were able to be for half-an- 
hour by themselves; and Elizabeth instantly availed herself of the oppor- 
tunity of making any inquiries, which Jane was equally eager to satisfy. 
After joining in general lamentations over the dreadful sequel of this 
event, which Elizabeth considered as all but certain, and Miss Bennet 
could not assert to be wholly impossible, the former continued the subject, 
by saying, "But tell me all and everything about it which I have not 
already heard. Give me further particulars. What did Colonel Forster say? 
Had they no apprehension of anything before the elopement took place? 
They must have seen them together for ever." 

"Colonel Forster did own that he had often suspected some partiality, 
especially on Lydia 's side, but nothing to give him any alarm. I am so 
grieved for him! His behaviour was attentive and kind to the utmost. He 
was coming to us, in order to assure us of his concern, before he had any 
idea of their not being gone to Scotland: when that apprehension first got 
abroad, it hastened his journey." 

"And was Denny convinced that Wickham would not marry? Did he 
know of their intending to go off? Had Colonel Forster seen Denny 
himself?" 

"Yes ; but, when questioned by him, Denny denied knowing anything 



404 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

of their plan, and would not give his real opinion about it. He did not 
repeat his persuasion of their not marrying and from that, I am inclined 
to hope, he might have been misunderstood before." 

"And till Colonel Forster came himself, not one of you entertained a 
doubt, I suppose, of their being really married?" 

"How was it possible that such an idea should enter our brains? I felt a 
little uneasy a little fearful of my sister's happiness with him in mar- 
riage, because I knew that his conduct had not been always quite right. 
My father and mother knew nothing of that; they only felt how im- 
prudent a match it must be. Kitty then owned, with a very natural triumph 
on knowing more than the rest of us, that in Lydia's last letter she had 
prepared her for such a step. She had known, it seems, of their being in 
love with each other, many weeks." 

"But not before they went to Brighton?" 

"No, I believe not." 

"And did Colonel Forster appear to think ill of Wickham himself? 
Does he know his real character?" 

"I must confess that he did not speak so well of Wickham as he for- 
merly did. He believed him to be imprudent and extravagant. And since 
this sad affair has taken place, it is said that he left Meryton greatly in 
debt; but I hope this may be false." 

"Oh, Jane, had we been less secret, had we told what we knew of him, 
this could not have happened ! " 

"Perhaps it would have been better," replied her sister. "But to expose 
the former faults of any person without knowing what their present feel- 
ings were, seemed unjustifiable. We acted with the best intentions." 

"Could Colonel Forster repeat the particulars of Lydia's note to his 
wife?" 

"He brought it with him for us to see." 

Jane then took it from her pocket-book, and gave it to Elizabeth. These 
were the contents: 

"Mv DEAR HARRIET, 

"You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help 
laughing myself at your surprise to-morrow morning, as soon as I am 
missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with who, I 
shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I love, 
and he is an angel. I should never be happy without him, so think it no 
harm to be off. You need not send them word at Longbourn of my going, 
if you do not like it, for it will make the surprise the greater, when I write 
to them and sign my name 'Lydia Wickham/ What a good joke it will be! 
I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make my excuses to Pratt for not 
keeping my engagement, and dancing with him to-night. Tell him I hope 
he will excuse me when he knows all ; and tell him I will dance with him 
at the next ball we meet, with great pleasure. I shall send for my clothes 
when I get to Longbourn; but I wish you would tell Sally to mend a great 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 405 

slit in my worked muslin gown before they are packed up. Good-bye. Give 
my love to Colonel Forster. I hope you will drink to our good journey. 
Your affectionate friend, 

"LYDIA BENNET." 

"Oh! thoughtless, thoughtless Lydia!" cried Elizabeth when she had 
finished it. "What a letter is this, to be written at such a moment! But at 
least it shows that she was serious in the object of her journey. Whatever 
he might afterwards persuade her to, it was not on her side a scheme of 
infamy. My poor father! how he must have felt it!" 

"I never saw any one so shocked. He could not speak a word for full ten 
minutes. My mother was taken ill immediately, and the whole house in 
such confusion!" 

"Oh! Jane," cried Elizabeth, "was there a servant belonging to it who 
did not know the whole story before the end of the day?" 

"I do not know. I hope there was. But to be guarded at such a time is 
very difficult. My mother was in hysterics, and though I endeavoured to 
give her every assistance in my power, I am afraid I did not do so much 
as I might have done! But the horror of what might possibly happen 
almost took from me my faculties." 

"Your attendance upon her has been too much for you. You do not 
look well. Oh that I had been with you! you have had every care and 
anxiety upon yourself alone." 

"Mary and Kitty have been very kind, and would have shared in every 
fatigue, I am sure, but I did not think it right for either of them. Kitty is 
slight and delicate; and Mary studies so much, that her hours of repose 
should not be broken in on. My aunt Philips came to Longbourn on 
Tuesday, after my father went away; and was so good as to stay till 
Thursday with me. She was of great use and comfort to us all. And Lady 
Lucas has been very kind; she walked here on Wednesday morning to 
condole with us, and offered her services, or any of her daughters', if they 
could be of use to us." 

"She had better have stayed at home," cried Elizabeth; "perhaps she 
meant well, but, under such a misfortune as this, one cannot see too little 
of one's neighbours. Assistance is impossible; condolence insufferable. 
Let them triumph over us at a distance, and be satisfied." 

She then proceeded to inquire into the measures which her father had 
intended to pursue, while in town, for the recovery of his daughter. 

"He meant I believe," replied Jane, "to go to Epsom, the place where 
they last changed horses, see the postilions and try if anything could be 
made out from them. His principal object must be to discover the number 
of the hackney coach which took them from Clapham. It had come with a 
fare from London; and as he thought the circumstance of a gentleman 
and lady's removing from one carriage into another might be remarked 
he meant to make inquiries at Clapham. If he could anyhow discover at 
what house the coachman had before set down his fare, he determined to 



406 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

make inquiries there, and hoped it might not be impossible to find out the 
stand and number of the coach. I do not know of any other designs that 
he had formed ; but he was in such a hurry to be gone, and his spirits so 
greatly discomposed, that I had difficulty in finding out even so much 
as this." 



Chapter 48 

THE whole party were in hopes of a letter from Mr. Bennet the next 
morning, but the post came in without bringing a single line from him. 
His family knew him to be, on all common occasions, a most negligent and 
dilatory correspondent; but at such a time they had hoped for exertion. 
They were forced to conclude that he had no pleasing intelligence to send ; 
but even of that they would have been glad to be certain. Mr. Gardiner 
had waited only for the letters before he set off. 

When he was gone, they were certain at least of receiving constant 
information of what was going on, and their uncle promised, at parting, to 
prevail on Mr. Bennet to return to Longbourn, as soon as he could, to the 
great consolation of his sister, who considered it as the only security for 
her husband's not being killed in a duel. 

Mrs. Gardiner and the children were to remain in Hertfordshire a few 
days longer, as the former thought her presence might be serviceable to her 
nieces. She shared in their attendance on Mrs. Bennet, and was a great 
comfort to them in their hours of freedom. Their other aunt also visited 
them frequently, and always, as she said, with the design of cheering and 
heartening them up though, as she never came without reporting som^ 
fresh instance of Wickham's extravagance or irregularity, she seldom 
went away without leaving them more dispirited than she found them. 

All Meryton seemed striving to blacken the man who, but three months 
before, had been almost an angel of light. He was declared to be in debt 
to every tradesman in the place, and his intrigues all honoured with the 
title of seduction, had been extended into every tradesman's family. 
Everybody declared that he was the wickedest young man in the world ; 
and everybody began to find out that they had always distrusted the 
appearance of his goodness. Elizabeth, though she did not credit above 
half of what was said, believed enough to make her former assurance of 
her sister's ruin still more certain ; and even Jane, who believed still less 
of it, became almost hopeless, more especially as the time was now come 
when, if they had gone to Scotland, which she had never before entirely 
despaired of, they must in all probability have gained some news of them. 

Mr. Gardiner left Longbourn on Sunday ; on Tuesday, his wife received 
a letter from him; it told them that, on his arrival, he had immediately 
found out his brother, and persuaded him to come to Gracechurch Street ; 
that Mr. Bennet had been to Epsom and Clapham, before his arrival, but 
without gaining any satisfactory information ; and that he was now deter- 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 4/ 

mined to inquire at all the principal hotels in town, as Mr. Bennet thought 
it possible they might have gone to one of them, on their first coming to 
London, before they procured lodgings. Mr. Gardiner himself did not 
expect any success from this measure, but as his brother was eager in it, 
he meant to assist him in pursuing it. He added that Mr. Bennet seemed 
wholly disinclined at present to leave London and promised to write again 
very soon. There was also a postscript to this effect: 

"I have written to Colonel Forster to desire him to find out, if possible, 
from some of the young man's intimates in the regiment, whether Wick- 
ham has any relations or connections who would be likely to know in 
what part of the town he has now concealed himself. If there were any one 
that one could apply to with a probability of gaining such a clue as that, 
it might be of essential consequence. At present we have nothing to guide 
us. Colonel Forster will, I dare say, do everything in his power to satisfy 
us on this head. But, on second thoughts, perhaps, Lizzy could tell us 
what relations he has now living, better than any other person." 

Elizabeth was at no loss to understand from whence this deference for 
her authority proceeded ; but it was not in her power to give any infor- 
mation of so satisfactory a nature as the compliment deserved. She had 
never heard of his having had any relations, except a father and mother, 
both of whom had been dead many years. It was possible, however, that 

some of his companions in the shire might be able to give more 

information; and though she was not very sanguine in expecting it, the 
application was a something to look forward to. 

Every day at Longbourn was now a day of anxiety; but the most 
anxious part of each was when the post was expected. The arrival of 
letters was the first grand object of every morning's impatience. Through 
letters, whatever of good or bad was to be told would be communicated, 
and every succeeding day was expected to bring some news of importance. 

But before they heard again from Mr. Gardiner, a letter arrived for 
their father, from a different quarter, from Mr. Collins; which, as Jane 
had received directions to open all that came for him in his absence, she 
accordingly read; and Elizabeth, who knew what curiosities his letters 
always were, looked over her, and read it likewise. It was as follows: 

"Mv DEAR SIR, 

U I feel myself called upon, by our relationship, and my situation in 
life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are now suffering 
under, of which we were yesterday informed by a letter from Hertford- 
shire. Be assured, my dear sir, that Mrs. Collins and myself sincerely 
sympathise with you and all your respectable family, in your present 
distress, which must be of the bitterest kind, because proceeding from a 
cause which no time can remove. No arguments shall be wanting on my 
part that can alleviate so severe a misfortune or that may comfort you, 
under a circumstance that must be of all others most afflicting to a 
parent's mind. The death of your daughter would have been a blessing in 



4 o8 THEWORKSOFJANEAUS T E N 

comparison of this. And it is the more to be lamented, because there is 
reason to suppose as my dear Charlotte informs me, that this licentious- 
ness of behaviour in your daughter has proceeded from a faulty degree of 
indulgence; though, at the same time, for the consolation of yourself and 
Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined to think that her own disposition must be 
naturally bad, or she could not be guilty of such an enormity, at so early 
an age. Howsoever that may be, you are grievously to be pitied ; in which 
opinion I am not only joined by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by Lady 
Catherine and her daughter, to whom I have related the affair. They 
agree with me in apprehending that this false step in one daughter will be 
injurious to the fortunes of all the others; for who, as Lady Catherine 
herself condescendingly says, will connect themselves with such a family? 
And this consideration leads me moreover to reflect, with augmented 
satisfaction, on a certain event of last November ; for had it been other- 
wise, I must have been involved in all your sorrow and disgrace. Let me 
advise you then, my dear sir, to console yourself as much as possible, to 
throw off your unworthy child from your affection for ever, and leave her 
to reap the fruits of her own heinous offence. I am. dear sir, etc., etc." 

Mr. Gardiner did not write again till he had received an answer from 
Colonel Forster ; and then he had nothing of a pleasant nature to send. It 
was not known that Wickham had a single relation with whom he kept 
up any connection, and it was certain that he had no near one living. His 
former acquaintances had been numerous; but since he had been in the 
militia, it did not appear that he was on terms of particular friendship 
with any of them. There was no one, therefore, who could be pointed out 
as likely to give any news of him. And in the wretched state of his own 
finances, there was a very powerful motive for secrecy, in addition to his 
fear of discovery by Lydia's relations, for it had just transpired that he 
had left gaming debts behind him to a very considerable amount. Colonel 
Forster believed that more than a thousand pounds would be necessary to 
clear his expenses at Brighton. He owed a good deal in the town, but his 
debts of honour were still more formidable. Mr. Gardiner did not attempt 
to conceal these particulars from the Longbourn family. Jane heard them 
with horror. "A gamester!" she cried. "This is wholly unexpected. I had 
not an idea of it." 

Mr. Gardiner added in his letter, that they might expect to see their 
father at home on the following day, which was Saturday. Rendered 
spiritless by the ill-success of all their endeavours, he had yielded to his 
brother-in-law's entreaty that he would return to his family, and leave 
it to him to do whatever occasion might suggest to be advisable for 
continuing their pursuit. When Mrs. Bennet was told of this, she did not 
express so much satisfaction as her children expected, considering what 
her anxiety for his life had been before. 

"What, is he coming home, and without poor Lydia?" she cried. "Sure 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 409 

he will not leave London before he has found them. Who is to fight 
Wickham, and make him marry her, if he comes away?" 

As Mrs. Gardiner began to wish to be at home, it was settled that she 
and her children should go to London, at the same time that Mr. Bennet 
came from it. The coach, therefore, took them the first stage of their 
journey, and brought its master back to Longbourn. 

Mrs. Gardiner went away in all the perplexity about Elizabeth and her 
Derbyshire friend that had attended her from that part of the world. His 
name had never been voluntarily mentioned before them by her niece; 
and the kind of half-expectation which Mrs. Gardiner had formed, of their 
being followed by a letter from him, had ended in nothing. Elizabeth had 
received none since her return that could come from Pemberley. 

The present unhappy state of the family rendered any other excuse for 
the lowness of her spirits unnecessary; nothing, therefore, could be fairly 
conjectured from that, though Elizabeth, who was by this time tolerably 
well acquainted with her own feelings, was perfectly aware that, had she 
known nothing of Darcy, she could have borne the dread of Lydia's 
infamy somewhat better. It would have spared her, she thought, one 
sleepless night out of two. 

When Mr. Bennet arrived, he had all the appearance of his usual philo- 
sophic composure. He said as little as he had ever been in the habit of 
saying ; made no mention of the business that had taken him away, and 
it was some time before his daughters had courage to speak of it. 

It was not till the afternoon, when he joined them at tea, that Elizabeth 
ventured to introduce the subject ; and then, on her briefly expressing her 
sorrow for what he must have endured, he replied, "Say nothing of that. 
Who should suffer but myself? It has been my own doing, and I ought 
to feel it." 

"You must not be too severe upon yourself," replied Elizabeth. 

"You may well warn me against such an evil. Human nature is so prone 
to fall into it! No, Lizzy, let me once in my life feel how much I have 
been to blame. I am not afraid of being overpowered by the impression. 
It will pass away soon enough." 

"Do you suppose them to be in London?" 

"Yes; where else can they be so well concealed?" 

"And Lydia used to want to go to London," added Kitty. 

"She is happy then," said her father drily; "and her residence there 
will probably be of some duration." 

Then, after a short silence, he continued: 

"Lizzy, I bear you no ill-will for being justified in your advice to me 
last May, which, considering the event, shows some greatness of mind." 

They were interrupted by Miss Bennet, who came to fetch her mother's 
tea. 

"This is a parade," cried he, "which does one good; it gives such an 
elegance to misfortune ! Another day I will do the same ; I will sit in my 



4 io THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

library, in my nightcap and powdering gown, and give as much trouble 
as I can; or, perhaps, I may defer it till Kitty runs away." 

"I am not going to run away, papa," said Kitty fretfully. "If 7 should 
ever go to Brighton, I would behave better than Lydia." 

"You go to Brighton. I would not trust you so near it as Eastbourne 
L,r fifty pounds ! No, Kitty, I have at last learnt to be cautious, and you 
will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever to enter my house again, nor 
even to pass through the village. Balls will be absolutely prohibited, unless 
you stand up with one of your sisters. And you are never to stir out of 
doors till you can prove that you have spent ten minutes of every day 
in a rational manner." 

Kitty, who took all these threats in a serious light, began to cry. 

"Well, well," said he, "do not make yourself unhappy. If you are a 
good girl for the next ten years, I will take you to a review at the end of 
them." 



Chapter 49 

Two days after Mr. Bennet's return, as Jane and Elizabeth were walk- 
ing together in the shrubbery behind the house, they saw the housekeeper 
coming towards them, and, concluding that she came to call them to 
their mother, went forward to meet her; but, instead of the expected 
summons, when they approached her, she said to Miss Bennet, "I beg 
your pardon, madam, for interrupting you, but I was in hopes you might 
have got some good news from town, so I took the liberty of coming to 
ask." 

"What do you mean, Hill? We have heard nothing from town." 

"Dear madam," cried Mrs. Hill, in great astonishment, "don't you 
know there is an express come for master from Mr. Gardiner? He has been 
here this half-hour, and master has had a letter." 

Away ran the girls, too eager to get in to have time for speech. They 
ran through the vestibule into the breakfast-room; from thence to the 
library ; their father was in neither ; and they were on the point of seeking 
him upstairs with their mother, when they were met by the butler, who 
said: 

"If you are looking for my master, ma'am, he is walking towards the 
little copse." 

Upon this information, they instantly passed through the hall once 
more, and ran across the lawn after their father, who was deliberately 
pursuing his way towards a small wood on one side of the paddock. 

Jane, who was not so light nor so much in the habit of running as 
Elizabeth, soon lagged behind, while her sister, panting for breath, came 
up with him, and eagerly cried out: 

"Oh, papa, what news what news? Have you heard from my uncle?" 

"Yes I have had a letter from him by express." 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 411 

"Well, and what news does it bring good or bad?" 

"What is there of good to be expected?" said he, taking the letter from 
his pocket. "But perhaps you would like to read it." 

Elizabeth impatiently caught it from his hand. Jane now came up. 

"Read it aloud," said their father, "for I hardly know myself what it 
is about." 

"Gracechurch Street, Monday, 

"August 2. 
"Mv DEAR BROTHER, 

"At last I am able to send you some tidings of my niece, and such as, 
upon the whole, I hope will give you satisfaction. Soon after you left me 
on Saturday, I was fortunate enough to find out in what part of London 
they were. The particulars I reserve till we meet: it is enough to know 
they are discovered. I have seen them both " 

"Then it is as I always hoped," cried Jane; "they are married!" 

Elizabeth read on: 

"I have seen them both. They are not married, nor can I find there was 
any intention of being so ; but if you are willing to perform the engage- 
ments which I have ventured to make on your side, I hope it will not be 
long before they are. All that is required of you is, to assure to your 
daughter, by settlement, her equal share of the five thousand pounds 
secured among your children after the decease of yourself and my sister ; 
and, moreover, to enter into an engagement of allowing her, during your 
life, one hundred pounds per annum. These are conditions which, con- 
sidering everything, I had no hesitation in complying with, as far as I 
thought myself privileged, for you. I shall send this by express, that no 
time may be lost in bringing me your answer. You will easily comprehend, 
from these particulars, that Mr. Wickham's circumstances are not so 
hopeless as they are generally believed to be. The world has been deceived 
in that respect; and I am happy to say there will be some little money, 
even when all his debts are discharged, to settle on my niece, in addition 
to her own fortune. If, as I conclude will be the case, you send me full 
powers to act in your name throughout the whole of this business, I will 
immediately give directions to Haggerston for preparing a proper settle- 
ment. There will not be the smallest occasion for your coming to town 
again ; therefore stay quietly at Longbourn, and depend on my diligence 
and care. Send back your answer as soon as you can, and be careful to 
write explicitly. We have judged it best that my niece should be married 
from this house, of which I hope you will approve. She comes to us to-day. 
I shall write again as soon as anything more is determined on. Yours, etc., 

"EDW. GARDINER." 

"Is it possible?" cried Elizabeth, when she had finished. "Can it be 
possible that he will marry her?" 



412 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

"Wickham is not so undeserving, then, as we have thought him," said 
her sister. "My dear father, I congratulate you." 

"And have you answered the letter?" said Elizabeth. 

"No ; but it must be done soon." 

Most earnestly did she then entreat him to lose no more time before he 
wrote. 

"Oh! my dear father," she cried, "come back and write immediately. 
Consider how important every moment is in such a case." 

"Let me write for you," said Jane, "if you dislike the trouble yourself." 

"I dislike it very much," he replied; "but it must be done." 

And so saying, he turned back with them, and walked towards the 
house. 

"And may I ask " said Elizabeth; "but the terms, I suppose, must 

be complied with." 

"Complied with! I am only ashamed of his asking so little." 

"And they must marry! Yet he is such a man!" 

"Yes, yes, they must marry. There is nothing else to be done. But there 
are two things that I want very much to know: one is, how much money 
your uncle has laid down to bring it about ; and the other, how I am ever 
to pay him." 

"Money! My uncle!" cried Jane, "what do you mean, sir?" 

"I mean, that no man in his senses would marry Lydia on so slight 
a temptation as one hundred a year during my life, and fifty after I am 
gone." 

"That is very true," said Elizabeth; "though it had not occurred to me 
before. His debts to be discharged, and something still to remain! Oh! 
it must be my uncle's doings! Generous, good man, I am afraid he has 
distressed himself. A small sum could not do all this." 

"No," said her father; "Wickham's a fool if he takes her with a 
farthing less than ten thousand pounds. I should be sorry to think so ill 
of him, in the very beginning of our relationship." 

"Ten thousand pounds! Heaven forbid! How is half such a sum to be 
repaid?" 

Mr. Bennet made no answer, and each of them, deep in thought, con- 
tinued silent till they reached the house. Their father then went to the 
library to write, and the girls walked into the breakfast-room. 

"And they are really to be married!" cried Elizabeth, as soon as they 
were by themselves. "How strange this is! And for this we are to be 
thankful. That they should marry, small as is their chance of happiness, 
and wretched as is his character, we are forced to rejoice. Oh, Lydia!" 

"I comfort myself with thinking," replied Jane, "that he certainly 
would not marry Lydia if he had not a real regard for her. Though our 
kind uncle has done something towards clearing him, I cannot believe 
that ten thousand pounds, or anything like it, has been advanced. He has 
children of his own, and may have more. How could he spare half ten 
thousand pounds?" 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 413 

"If we were ever able to learn what Wickham's debts have been," said 
Elizabeth, "and how much is settled on his side on our sister, we shall 
exactly know what Mr. Gardiner has done for them, because Wickham 
has not sixpence of his own. The kindness of my uncle and aunt can never 
be requited. Their taking her home, and affording her their personal pro- 
tection and countenance, is such a sacrifice to her advantage as years of 
gratitude cannot enough acknowledge. By this time she is actually with 
them! If such goodness does not make her miserable now, she will never 
deserve to be happy! What a meeting for her, when she first sees my 
aunt!" 

"We must endeavour to forget all that has passed on either side," said 
Jane: "I hope and trust they will yet be happy. His consenting to marry 
her is a proof, I will believe, that he is come to a right way of thinking. 
Their mutual affection will steady them; and I flatter myself they will 
settle so quietly, and live in so rational a manner, as may in time make 
their pac' imprudence forgotten." 

"Their conduct has been such," replied Elizabeth, "as neither you, nor 
I, nor anybody can ever forget. It is useless to talk of it." 

It now occurred to the girls that their mother was in all likelihood per- 
fectly ignorant of what had happened. They went to the library, there- 
fore, and asked their father whether he would not wish them to make it 
known to her. He was writing and, without raising his head, coolly replied: 

"Just as you please." 

"May we take my uncle's letter to read to her?" 

"Take whatever you like, and get away." 

Elizabeth took the letter from his writing-table, and they went upstairs 
together. Mary and Kitty were both with Mrs. Bennet : one communica- 
tion would, therefore, do for all. After a slight preparation for good news, 
the letter was read aloud. Mrs. Bennet could hardly contain herself. As 
soon as Jane had read Mr. Gardiner's hope of Lydia's being soon married, 
her joy burst forth, and every following sentence added to its exuberance. 
She was now in an irritation as violent from delight, as she had ever been 
fidgety from alarm and vexation. To know that her daughter would be 
married was enough. She was disturbed by no fear for her felicity, nor 
humbled by any remembrance of her misconduct. 

"My dear, dear Lydia!" she cried. "This is delightful indeed! She will 
be married! I shall see her again! She will be married at sixteen! My 
good, kind brother! I knew how it would be. I knew he would manage 
everything! How I long to see her! and to see dear Wickham too! But the 
clothes, the wedding clothes! I will write to my sister Gardiner about them 
directly. Lizzy, my dear, run down to your father, and ask him how much 
he will give her. Stay, stay, I will go myself. Ring the bell, Kitty, for Hill. 
I will put on my things in a moment. My dear, dear Lydia! How merry 
we shall be together when we meet! " 

Her eldest daughter endeavoured to give some relief to the violence of 



414 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

these transports, by leading her thoughts to the obligations which Mr. 
Gardiner's behaviour laid them all under. 

"For we must attribute this happy conclusion," she added, "in a great 
measure to his kindness. We are persuaded that he has pledged himself 
to assist Mr. Wickham with money." 

"Well,' 7 cried her mother, "it is all very right; who should do it but her 
own uncle? If he had not had a family of his own, I and my children must 
have had all his money, you know ; and it is the first time we have ever 
had anything from him, excepc a few presents. Well! I am so happy! In 
a short time I shall have a daughter married. Mrs. Wickham! How well 
it sounds! And she was only sixteen last June. My dear Jane, I am in 
such a flutter, that I am sure I can't write ; so I will dictate, and you write 
for me. We will settle with your father about the money afterwards ; but 
the things should be ordered immediately.' 7 

She was then proceeding to all the particulars of calico, muslin, and 
cambric, and would shortly have dictated some very plentiful orders, had 
not Jane, though with some difficulty, persuaded her to wait till her father 
was at leisure to be consulted. One day's delay, she observed, would be of 
small importance ; and her mother was too happy to be quite so obstinate 
as usual. Other schemes, too, came into her head. 

"I will go to Meryton," said she, "as soon as I am dressed, and tell the 
good, good news to my sister Philips. And as I come back, I can call on 
Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long. Kitty, run down and order the carriage. An 
airing would do me a great deal of good, I am sure. Girls, can I do any- 
thing for you in Meryton? Oh! here comes Hill! My dear Hill, have you 
heard the good news? Miss Lydia is going to be married; and you shall 
all have a bowl of punch to make merry at her wedding." 

Mrs. Hill began instantly to express her joy. Elizabeth received her 
congratulations amongst the rest, and then, sick of this folly, took refuge 
in her own room, that she might think with freedom. 

Poor Lydia's situation must, at best, be bad enough; but that it was 
no worse, she had need to be thankful. She felt it so ; and though, in look- 
ing forward, neither rational happiness nor worldly prosperity could be 
justly expected for her sister, in looking back to what they had feared, 
only two hours ago, she felt all the advantages of what they had gained. 



Chapter 50 

MR. BENNET had very often wished before this period of his life that, 
instead of spending his whole income, he had laid by an annual sum for 
the better provision of his children, and of his wife, if she survived him. 
He now wished it more than ever. Had he done his duty in that respect, 
Lydia need not have been indebted to her uncle for whatever of honour 
or credit could now be purchased for her. The satisfaction of prevailing 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 415 

on one of the most worthless young men in Great Brtiain to be her hus- 
band might then have rested in its proper place. 

He was seriously concerned that a cause of so little advantage to anyone 
should be forwarded at the sole expense of his brother-in-law, and he was 
determined, if possible, to find out the extent of his assistance, and to 
discharge the obligation as soon as he could. 

When first Mr. Bennet had married, economy was held to be perfectly 
useless ; for, of course, they were to have a son. This son was to join in 
cutting off the entail, as soon as he should be of age, and the widow and 
younger children would by that means be provided for. Five daughters 
successively entered the world, but yet the son was to come; and Mrs. 
Bennet, for many years after Lydia's birth, had been certain that he 
would. This event had at last been despaired of, but it was then too late 
to be saving. Mrs. Bennet had no turn for economy, and her husband's 
love of independence had alone prevented their exceeding their income. 

Five thousand pounds was settled by marriage articles on Mrs. Bennet 
and the children. But in what proportions it should be divided amongst 
the latter depended on the will of the parents. This was one point, with 
regard to Lydia, at least, which was now to be settled, and Mr. Bennet 
could have no hesitation in acceding to the proposal before him. In terms 
of grateful acknowledgment for the kindness of his brother, though ex- 
pressed most concisely, he then delivered on paper his perfect approbation 
of all that was done, and his willingness to fulfil the engagements that had 
been made for him. He had never before supposed that, could Wickham 
be prevailed on to marry his daughter, it would be done with so little 
inconvenience to himself as by the present arrangement. He would 
scarcely be ten pounds a year the loser by the hundred that was to be 
paid them; for, what with her board and pocket allowance, and the con- 
tinual presents in money which passed to her through her mother's hands, 
Lydia's expenses had been very little within that sum. 

That it would be done with such trifling exertion on his side, too, was 
another very welcome surprise; for his wish at present was to have as 
little trouble in the business as possible. When the first transports of rage 
which had produced his activity in seeking her were over, he naturally 
returned to all his former indolence. His letter was soon dispatched ; for, 
though dilatory in undertaking business, he was quick in its execution. 
He begged to know further particulars of what he was indebted to his 
brother, but was too angry with Lydia to send any message to her. 

The good news quickly spread through the house, and with propor- 
tionate speed through the neighbourhood. It was borne in the latter with 
decent philosophy. To be sure, it would have been more for the advantage 
of conversation had Miss Lydia Bennet come upon the town ; or, as the 
happiest alternative, been secluded from the world, in some distant farm- 
house. But there was much to be talked of in marrying her; and the good- 
natured wishes for her well-doing which had proceeded before from all 
the spiteful old ladies in Meryton lost but a little of their spirit in this 



416 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

change of circumstances, because with such an husband her misery was 
considered certain. 

It was a fortnight since Mrs. Bennet had been downstairs; but on this 
happy day she again took her seat at the head of her table, and in spirits 
oppressively high. No sentiment of shame gave a damp to her triumph. 
The marriage of a daughter, which had been the first object of her wishes 
since Jane was sixteen, was now on the point of accomplishment, and her 
thoughts and her words ran wholly on those attendants of elegant nup- 
tials, fine muslins, new carriages, and servants. She was busily searching 
through the neighbourhood for a proper situation for her daughter, and, 
without knowing or considering what their income might be, rejected 
many as deficient in size and importance. 

"Haye Park might do," said she, "if the Gouldings could quit it or 
the great house at Stoke, if the drawing-room were larger ; but Ashworth 
is too far off! I could not bear to have her ten miles from me; and as for 
Pulvis Lodge, the attics are dreadful." 

Her husband allowed her to talk on without interruption while the 
servants remained. But when they had withdrawn, he said to her: "Mrs. 
Bennet, before you take any or all of these houses for your son and 
daughter, let us come to a right understanding. Into one house in this 
neighbourhood they shall never have admittance. I will not encourage the 
imprudence of either, by receiving them at Longbourn." 

A long dispute followed this declaration; but Mr. Bennet was firm. It 
soon led to another; and Mrs. Bennet found, with amazement and horror, 
that her husband would not advance a guinea to buy clothes for his 
daughter. He protested that she should receive from him no mark of 
affection whatever on the occasion. Mrs. Bennet could hardly comprehend 
it. That his anger could be carried to such a point of inconceivable resent- 
ment as to refuse his daughter a privilege without which her marriage 
would scarcely seem valid, exceeded all that she could believe possible. 
She was more alive to the disgrace which her want of new clothes must 
reflect on her daughter's nuptials, than to any sense of shame at her 
eloping and living with Wickham a fortnight before they took place. 

Elizabeth was now most heartily sorry that she had, from the distress 
of the moment, been led to make Mr. Darcy acquainted with their fears 
for her sister; for since her marriage would so shortly give the proper 
termination to the elopement, they might hope to conceal its unfavourable 
beginning from all those who were not immediately on the spot. 

She had no, fear of its spreading farther through his means. There were 
few people on whose secrecy she would have more confidently depended ; 
but, at the same time, there was no one whose knowledge of a sister's 
frailty would have mortified her so much not, however, from any fear 
of disadvantage from it individually to herself, for, at any rate, there 
seemed a gulf impassable between them. Had Lydia's marriage been 
concluded on the most honourable terms, it was not to be supposed that 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 415 

Mr. Darcy would connect himself with a family where, to every other 
objection, would now be added an alliance and relationship of the nearest 
kind with the man whom he so justly scorned. 

From such a connection she could not wonder that he should shrink. 
The wish of procuring her regard, which she had assured herself of his 
feeling in Derbyshire, could not in rational expectation survive such a 
blow as this. She was humbled, she was grieved ; she repented, though she 
hardly knew of what. She became jealous of his esteem, when she could 
no longer hope to be benefited by it. She wanted to hear of him, when 
there seemed the least chance of gaining intelligence. She was convinced 
that she could have been happy with him, when it was no longer likely 
they should meet. 

What a triumph for him, as she often thought, could he know that the 
proposals which she had proudly spurned only four months ago, would 
now have been gladly and gratefully received! He was as generous, she 
doubted not, as the most generous of his sex; but while he was mortal, 
there must be a triumph. 

She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in 
disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and 
temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It 
was an union that must have been to the advantage of both : by her ease 
and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved ; 
and from his judgment, information, and knowledge of the world, she 
must have received benefit of greater importance. 

But no such happy marriage could now teach the admiring multitude 
what connubial felicity really was. An union of a different tendency, and 
precluding the possibility of the other, was soon to be formed in their 
family. 

How Wickham and Lydia were to be supported in tolerable inde- 
pendence, she could not imagine. But how little of permanent happiness 
could belong to a couple who were only brought together because their 
passions were stronger than their virtue, she could easily conjecture. 

Mr. Gardiner soon wrote again to his brother. To Mr. Bennet's acknowl- 
edgments he briefly replied, with assurances of his eagerness to promote 
the welfare of any of his family; and concluded with entreaties that the 
subject might never be mentioned to him again. The principal purport of 
his letter was to inform them that Mr. Wickham had resolved on quitting 
the militia. 

"It was greatly my wish that he should do so," he added, "as soon as 
his marriage was fixed on. And I think you will agree with me, in con- 
sidering the removal from that corps as highly advisable, both on his 
account and my niece's. It is Mr. Wickham's intention to go into the regu- 
lars; and among his former friends, there are still some who are able and 
willing to assist him in the army. He has the promise of an ensigncy in 



4 i8 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

General 's regiment, now quartered in the North. It is an advantage 

to have it so far from this part of the kingdom. He promises fairly ; and 
I hope among different people, where they may each have a character 
to preserve, they will both be more prudent. I have written to Colonel 
Forster, to inform him of our present arrangements, and to request that he 
will satisfy the various creditors of Mr. Wickham in and near Brighton, 
with assurances of speedy payment, for which I have pledged myself. And 
will you give yourself the trouble of carrying similar assurances to his 
creditors in Meryton, of whom I shall subjoin a list according to his 
information? He has given in all his debts; I hope at least he has not 
deceived us. Haggerston has our directions, and all will be completed in a 
week. They will then join his regiment, unless they are first invited to 
Longbourn ; and I understand from Mrs. Gardiner, that my niece is very 
desirous of seeing you all before she leaves the South. She is well, and 
begs to be dutifully remembered to you and her mother. Yours, etc., 

"E. GARDINER." 

Mr. Bennet and his daughters saw all the advantages of Wickham's 

removal from the shire as clearly as Mr. Gardiner could do. But Mrs. 

Bennet was not so well pleased with it. Lydia's being settled in the North, 
just when she had expected most pleasure and pride in her company, for 
she had by no means given up her plan of their residing in Hertfordshire, 
was a severe disappointment ; and, besides, it was such a pity that Lydia 
should be taken from a regiment where she was acquainted with every- 
body, and had so many favourites. 

"She is so fond of Mrs. Forster," said she, "it will be quite shocking 
to send her away! And there are several of the young men, too, that she 

likes very much. The officers may not be so pleasant in General 's 

regiment." 

His daughter's request, for such it might be considered, of being ad- 
mitted into her family again before she set off for the North, received at 
first an absolute negative. But Jane and Elizabeth, who agreed in wishing, 
for the sake of their sister's feelings and consequence, that she should be 
noticed on her marriage by her parents, urged him so earnestly yet so 
rationally and so mildly, to receive her and her husband at Longbourn, 
as soon as they were married, that he was prevailed on to think as they 
thought, and act as they wished. And their mother had the satisfaction 
of knowing that she should be able to show her married daughter in the 
neighbourhood before she was banished to the North. When Mr. Bennet 
wrote again to his brother, therefore, he sent his permission for them to 
come; and it was settled, that as soon as the ceremony was over, they 
should proceed to Longbourn. Elizabeth was surprised, however, that 
Wickham should consent to such a scheme, and had she consulted only 
her own inclination, any meeting with him would have been the last 
object of her wishes. 



PRIDE AND PREJUDICE 419 

Chapter 57 

THEIR sister's wedding-day arrived ; and Jane and Elizabeth felt for 
her, probably more than she felt for herself. The carriage was sent to meet 

them at , and they were to return in it by dinner-time. Their arrival 

was dreaded by the elder Miss Bennets, and Jane more especially, who 
gave Lydia the feelings which would have attended herself, had she been 
the culprit, and was wretched in the thought of what her sister must endure. 

They came. The family were assembled in the breakfast-room to receive 
them. Smiles decked the face of Mrs. Bennet as the carriage drove up to 
the door; her husband looked impenetrably grave; her daughters, 
alarmed, anxious, uneasy. 

Lydia's voice was heard in the vestibule ; the door was thrown open, and 
she ran into the room. Her mother stepped forward, embraced her, and 
welcomed her with rapture ; gave her hand with an affectionate smile to 
Wickham, who followed his lady, and wished them both joy, with an 
alacrity which showed no doubt of their happiness. 

Their reception from Mr. Bennet, to whom they then turned, was not 
quite so cordial. His countenance rather gained an austerity, and he 
scarcely opened his lips. The easy assurance of the young couple, indeed, 
was enough to provoke him. Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Miss Ben- 
net was shocked. Lydia was Lydia still untamed, unabashed, wild, 
noisy, and fearless. She turned from sister to sister, demanding their 
congratulations; and when at length they all sat down, looked eagerly 
round the room, took notice of some little alteration in it, and observed, 
with a laugh, that it was a great while since she had been there. 

Wickham was not at all more distressed than herself ; but his manners 
were always so pleasing, that had his character and his marriage been 
exactly what they ought, his smiles and his easy address, while he claimed 
their relationship, would have delighted them all. Elizabeth had not before 
believed him quite equal to such assurance; but she sat down, resolving 
within herself to draw no limits in future to the impudence of an inpudent 
man. She blushed, and Jane blushed; but the cheeks of the two who 
caused their confusion suffered no variation of colour. 

There was no want of discourse. The bride and her mother could 
neither of them talk fast enough ; and Wickham, who happened to sit near 
Elizabeth, began inquiring after his acquaintances in that neighbourhood 
with a good-humoured ease which she felt very unable to equal in her 
replies. They seemed each of them to have the happiest memories in the 
world. Nothing of the past was recollected with pain; and Lydia led 
voluntarily to subjects which her sisters would not have alluded to for the 
world. 

"Only think of its being three months," she cried, "since I went away! 
It seems but a fortnight, I declare; and yet there have been things enough 
happened in the time. Good gracious! When I went away, I am sure I 



420 THE WORKS OF J\NE AUSTEN 

had no more idea of being married till I came back again though I 
thought it would be very good fun if I was." 

Her father lifted up his eyes, Jane was distressed, Elizabeth looked 
expressively at Lydia ; but she, who never heard nor saw anything of which 
she chose to be insensible, gaily continued: "Oh! mamma, do the people 
hereabouts know I am married to-day ! I was afraid they might not ; and 
we overtook William Goulding in his curricle, so I was determined he 
should know it, and so I let down the side glass next to him, and took off 
my glove and let my hand just rest upon the window-frame, so that he 
might see the ring; and then I bowed and smiled like anything." 

Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She got up and ran out of the room, 
and returned no more till she heard them passing through the hall to the 
dining-parlour. She then joined them soon enough to see Lydia, with 
anxious parade, walk up to her mother's right hand, and hear her say to 
her eldest sister: "Ah, Jane, I take your place now, and you must go lower, 
because I am a married woman! " 

It was not to be supposed that time would give Lydia that embarrass- 
ment from which she had been so wholly free at first. Her ease and good 
spirits increased. She longed to see Mrs. Philips, the Lucases, and all their 
other neighbours, and to hear herself called "Mrs. Wickham" by each of 
them ; and, in the meantime, she went after dinner to show her ring, and 
boast of being married, to Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids. 

"Well, mamma," said she, when they were all returned to the breakfast 
room, "and what do you think of my husband? Is not he a charming man? 
I am sure my sisters must all envy me. I only hope they may have half 
my good luck. They must all go to Brighton. That is the place to get 
husbands. What a pity it is, mamma, we did not all go!" 

"Very true; and if I had my wilj, we should. But, my dear Lydia, I 
don't at all like your going such a way off. Must it be so?" 

"Oh, Lord! yes, there is nothing in that. I shall like it of all things. 
You and papa, and my sisters, must come down and see us. We shall be 
at Newcastle all the winter, and I dare say there will be some balls, and 
I will take care to get good partners for them all." 

"I should like it beyond anything!" said her mother. 

"And then, when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sisters 
behind you ; and I dare say I shall get husbands for them before the winter 
is over." 

"I thank you for my share of the favour," said Elizabeth ; "but I do 
not particularly like your way of getting husbands." 

Their visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Mr. Wick- 
ham had received his commission before he left London, and he was to join 
his regiment at the end of a fortnight. 

No one but Mrs. Bennet regretted that their stay would be so short; 
and she made the most of the time, by visiting about with her daughter, 
and having very frequent parties at home. These parties were acceptable 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 421 

t*) all: to avoid a family circle was even more desirable to such as did 
think, than such as did not. 

Wickham's affection for Lydia was just what Elizabeth had expected 
to find it not equal to Lydia's for him. She had scarcely needed her 
present observation to be satisfied, from the reason of things, that their 
elopement had been brought on by the strength of her love rather than 
by his ; and she would have wondered why, without violently caring for 
her, he chose to elope with her at all, had she not felt certain that his 
flight was rendered necessary by distress or circumstances; and if that 
were the case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunity of having 
a companion. 

Lydia was exceedingly fond of him. He was her dear Wickham on every 
occasion ; no one was to be put in competition with him. He did everything 
best in the world ; and she was sure he would kill more birds on the first of 
September than anybody else in the country. 

One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her two 
elder sisters, she said to Elizabeth: 

"Lizzy, 1 never gave you an account of my wedding, I believe. You 
were not by when I told mamma and the others all about it. Are not you 
curious to hear how it was managed?" 

"No, really," replied Elizabeth; "I think there cannot be too little said 
on the subject." 

"La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off. We were 
married, you know, at St. Clement's, because Wickham's lodgings were 
in that parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleven 
o'clock. My uncle and aunt, and I, were to go together ; and the others were 
to meet us at the church. Well, Monday morning came, and I was in such 
a fuss! I was so afraid, you know, that something would happen to put 
it off, and then I should have gone quite distracted. And there was my 
aunt, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as if 
she was reading a sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in 
ten, for I was thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. I longed 
to know whether he would be married in his blue coat. 

"Well, and so we breakfasted at ten, as usual. I thought it would never 
be over ; for, by the bye, you are to understand that my uncle and aunt 
were horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you'll believe me, 
I did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there a fortnight. 
Not one party, or scheme, or anything! To be sure, London was rather 
thin ; but, however, the Little Theatre was open. Well, and so, just as the 
carriage came to the door, my uncle was called away upon business to 
that horrid man, Mr. Stone. And then, you know, when once they get 
together, there is no end of it. Well, I was so frightened, I did not know 
what to do ; for my uncle was to give me away; and if we were beyond the 
hour we could not be married all day. But, luckily, he came back again in 
ten minutes' time, and then we all set out. However, I recollected after- 



422 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

wards, that if he had been prevented going the wedding need not be put 
off, for Mr. Darcy might have done as well." 

"Mr. Darcy!" repeated Elizabeth, in utter amazement. 

"Oh, yes! he was to come there with Wickham, you know. But, gra- 
cious me! I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I 
promised them so faithfully! What will Wickham say? It was to be such 
a secret!" 

"If it was to be a secret," said Jane, "say not another word on the 
subject. You may depend upon my seeking no further." 

"Oh! certainly," said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity; "we 
will ask you no questions." 

"Thank you," said Lydia ; "for, if you did, I should certainly tell you 
all, and then Wickham would be angry." 

On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was forced to put it out of 
her power, by running away. 

But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or, at least, it 
was impossible not to try for information. Mr. Darcy had been at her 
sister's wedding. It was exactly a scene, and exactly among people, where 
he had apparently least to do, and least temptation to go. Conjectures as 
to the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried into her brain ; but she was 
satisfied with none. Those that best pleased her, as placing his conduct 
in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. She could not bear such 
suspense ; and hastily seizing a sheet of paper, wrote a short letter to her 
aunt, to request an explanation of what Lydia had dropped, if it were 
compatible with the secrecy which had been intended. 

"You may readily comprehend," she added, "what my curiosity must 
be to know how a person unconnected with any of us, and (comparatively 
speaking) a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at such 
a time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it unless it is, for 
very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Lydia seems to think 
necessary; and then I must endeavour to be satisfied with ignorance." 

"Not that I shall, though," she added to herself, and she finished the 
letter: "and, my dear aunt, if you do not tell me in an honourable manner, 
I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find it out." 

Jane's delicate sense of honour would not allow her to speak to Elizabeth 
privately of what Lydia had let fall: Elizabeth was glad of it; till it ap- 
peared whether her inquiries would receive any satisfaction, she had rather 
be without a confidante. 



Chapter 52 

ELIZABETH had the satisfaction of receiving an answer to her letter 
as soon as she possibly could. She was no sooner in possession of it than, 
hurrying into the little copse, where she was least likely to be interrupted, 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 423 

she sat down on one of the benches, and prepared to be happy; for the 
iength of the letter convinced her that it did not contain a denial. 

"Gracechurch Street, Sept. 6. 
u Mv DEAR NIECE, 

"I have just received your letter, and shall devote this whole morning 
to answering it, as I foresee that a little writing will not comprise what I 
have to tell you. I must confess myself surprised by your application ; I 
did not expect it from you. Don't think me angry, however, for I only 
mean to let you know that I had not imagined such inquiries to be neces- 
sary on your side. If you do not choose to understand me, forgive my 
impertinence. Your uncle is as much surprised as I am, and nothing but 
the belief of your being a party concerned would have allowed him to 
act as he has done. But if you are really innocent and ignorant, I must be 
more explicit. 

"On the very day of my coming home from Longbourn, your uncle had 
a most unexpected visitor. Mr. Darcy called, and was shut up with him 
several hours. It was all over before I arrived ; so my curiosity was not so 
dreadfully racked as yours seems to have been. He came to tell Mr. 
Gardiner that he had found out where your sister and Mr. Wickham were, 
and that he had seen and talked with them both Wickham repeatedly, 
Lydia once. From what I can collect, he left Derbyshire only one day after 
ourselves, and came to town with the resolution of hunting for them. The 
motive professed was his conviction of its being owing to himself that 
Wickham 's worthlessness had not been so 'well known as to make it 
impossible for any young woman of character to love or confide in him. 
He generously imputed the whole to his mistaken pride, and confessed 
that he had before thought it beneath him to lay his private actions open 
to the world. His character was to speak for itself. He called it, therefore, 
his duty to step forward, and endeavour to remedy an evil which had been 
brought on by himself. If he had another motive, I am sure it would never 
disgrace him. He had been some days in town before he was able to dis- 
cover them; but he had something to direct his search, which was more 
than we had; and the consciousness of this was another reason for his 
resolving to follow us. 

"There is a lady, it seems, a Mrs. Younge, who was some time ago 
governess to Miss Darcy, and was dismissed from her charge on some 
cause of disapprobation, though he did not say what. She then took a large 
house in Edward Street, and has since maintained herself by letting lodg- 
ings. This Mrs. Younge was, he knew, intimately acquainted with Wick- 
ham ; and he went to her for intelligence of him, as soon as he got to town. 
But it was two or three days before he could get from her what he wanted. 
She would not betray her trust, I suppose, without bribery and corrup- 
tion, for she really did know where her friend was to be found. Wick- 
ham, indeed, had gone to her on their first arrival in London, and had she 
been able to receive them into her house, they would have taker up their 



424 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

abode with her. At length, however, our kind friend procured the wished- 

for direction. They were in Street. He saw Wickham, and afterwards 

insisted on seeing Lydia. His first object with her, he acknowledged, had 
been to persuade her to quit her present disgraceful situation, and return 
to her friends as soon as they could be prevailed on to receive her, offering 
his assistance as far it would go. But he found Lydia absolutely resolved 
on remaining where she was. She cared for none of her friends ; she wanted 
no help of his ; she would not hear of leaving Wickham ; she was sure they 
should be married some time or other, and it did not much signify when. 
Since such were her feelings, it only remained, he thought, to secure and 
expedite a marriage, which, in his very first conversation with Wickham, 
he easily learnt had never been his design. He confessed himself obliged 
to leave the regiment on account of some debts of honour which were very 
pressing, and scrupled not to lay all the ill consequences of Lydia's flight 
on her own folly alone. He meant to resign his commission immediately; 
and as to his future situation, he could conjecture very little about it. 
He must go somewhere, but he did not know where, and he knew he should 
have nothing to live on. 

"Mr. Darcy asked him why he had not married your sister at once? 
Though Mr. Bennet was not imagined to be very rich, he would have been 
able to do something for him, and his situation must have been benefited 
by marriage. But he found, in reply to this question, that Wickham still 
cherished the hope of more effectually making his fortune by marriage 
in some other country. Under such circumstances, however, he was not 
likely to be proof against the* temptation of immediate relief. 

"They met several times, for there was much to be discussed. Wickham, 
of course, wanted more than he could get, but at length was reduced to 
be reasonable. 

"Everything being settled between them, Mr. Darcy's next step was to 
make your uncle acquainted with it, and he first called in Gracechurch 
Street the evening before I came home. But Mr. Gardiner could not be 
seen, and Mr. Darcy found, on further inquiry, that your father was still 
with him, but would quit town the next morning. He did not judge your 
father to be a person whom he could so properly consult as your uncle, 
and therefore readily postponed seeing him till after the departure of the 
former. He did not leave his name, and till the next day it was only known 
that a gentleman had called on business. 

"On Saturday he came again. Your father was gone, your uncle at 
home, and, as I said before, they had a great deal of talk together. 

"They met again on Sunday, and then 7 saw him too. It was not all 
settled before Monday ; as soon as it was, the express was sent off to Long- 
bourn. But our visitor was very obstinate. I fancy, Lizzy, that obstinacy 
is the real defect of his character after all. He has been accused of many 
faults at different times, but this is the true one. Nothing was to be done 
that he did not do himself; though I am sure (and I do not speak it to bu 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 425 

thanked, therefore say nothing about it) your uncle would most readily 
have settled the whole. 

"They battled it together for a long time, which was more than either 
the gentleman or lady concerned in it deserved. But at last your uncle 
was forced to yield, and instead of being allowed to be of use to his niece, 
was forced to put up with only having the probable credit of it, which 
went sorely against the grain ; and I really believe your letter this morning 
gave him great pleasure, because it required an explanation that would 
rob him of his borrowed feathers, and give the praise where it was due. 
But, Lizzy, this must go no farther than yourself, or Jane at most. 

"You know pretty well, I suppopse, what has been done for the young 
people. His debts are to be\paid, amounting, I believe, to considerably 
more than a thousand pounds, another thousand in addition to her own 
settled upon her and his commission purchased. The reason why all this 
was to be done by him alone was such as I have given above. It was owing 
to him, to his reserve and want of proper consideration, that Wickham's 
character had been so misunderstood, and, consequently, that he had been 
received and noticed, as he was. Perhaps there was some truth in this; 
though I doubt whether his reserve, or anybody's reserve, can be answer- 
able for the event. But in spite of all this fine talking, my dear Lizzy, you 
may rest perfectly assured that your uncle would never have yielded, if 
we had not given him credit for another interest in the affair. 

"When all this was resolved on, he returned again to his friends, who 
were still staying at Pemberley; but it was agreed that he should be in 
London once more when the wedding took place, and all money matters 
were then to receive the last finish. 

"I believe I have now told you everything. It is a relation which you 
tell me is to give you great surprise ; I hope at least it will not afford you 
any displeasure. Lydia came to us ; and Wickham had constant admission 
to the house. He was exactly what he had been when I knew him in 
Hertfordshire ; but I would not tell you how little I was satisfied with her 
behaviour while she stayed with us, if I had not perceived, by Jane's 
letter last Wednesday, that her conduct on coming home was exactly of 
a piece with it, and therefore what I now tell you can give you no fresh 
pain. I talked to her repeatedly in the most serious manner, representing 
to her the wickedness of what she had done and all the unhappiness she 
had brought on her family. If she heard me, it was by good luck, for I 
am sure she did not listen. I was sometimes quite provoked, but then I 
recollected my dear Elizabeth and Jane, and for their sakes had patience 
with .her. 

"Mr. Darcy was punctual in his return, and, as Lydia informed you, 
attended the wedding. He dined with us the next day, and was to leave 
town again on Wednesday or Thursday. Will you be very angry with me, 
my dear Lizzy, if I take this opportunity of saying (what I was never bold 
enough to say before) how much I like him? His behaviour to us has, 
in every respect, been as pleasing as when we were in Derbyshire. His 



426 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

understanding and opinions all please me ; he wants nothing but a little 
more liveliness, and that, if he marry prudently, his wife may teach him. 
I thought him very sly; he hardly ever mentioned your name. But slyness 
seems the fashion. 

"Pray forgive me if I have been very presuming; or at least do not 
punish me so far as to exclude me from P. I shall never be quite happy 
till I have been all round the park. A low phaeton, with a nice little pair 
of ponies, would be the very thing. 

"But I must write no more. The children have been wanting me this 
half-hour. 

"Yours, very sincerely, 

"M. GARDINER." 

The contents of this letter threw Elizabeth into a flutter of spirits, in 
which it was difficult to determine whether pleasure or pain bore the 
greatest share. The vague and unsettled suspicions which uncertainty had 
produced of what Mr. Darcy might have been doing to forward her sister's 
match, which she had feared to encourage as an exertion of goodness too 
great to be probable, and at the same time dreaded to be just, from the 
pain of obligation, were proved beyond their greatest extent to be true! 
He had followed them purposely to town, he had taken on himself all 
the trouble and mortification attendant on such a research ; in which sup- 
plication had been necessary to a woman whom he must abominate and 
despise, and where he was reduced to meet frequently meet, reason with, 
persuade, and finally bribe the man whom he always most wished to 
avoid, and whose very name it was punishment to him to pronounce. He 
had done all this for a girl whom he could neither regard nor esteem. Her 
heart did whisper that he had done it for her. But it was a hope shortly 
checked by other considerations, and she soon felt that even her vanity 
was insufficient, when required to depend on his affection for her, for a 
woman who had already refused him, as able to overcome a sentiment 
so natural as abhorrence against relationship with Wickham. Brother-in- 
law of Wickham! Every kind of pride must revolt from the connection. 
He had, to be sure, done much she was ashamed to think how much. 
But he had given a reason for this interference, which asked no extraor- 
dinary stretch of belief. It was reasonable that he should feel he had 
been wrong ; he had liberality, and he had the means of exercising it ; ana 
though she would not place herself as his principal inducement, she could, 
perhaps, believe that remaining partiality for her might assist his en- 
deavours in a cause where her peace of mind must be materially concerned. 
It was painful, exceedingly painful, to know that they were under obliga- 
tions to a person who could never receive a return. They owed the restora- 
tion of Lydia, her character, everything to him. Oh! how heartily did she 
grieve over every ungracious sensation she had ever encouraged, every 
saucy speech she had ever directed towards him. For herself, she was 
humbled ; but she was proud of him. Proud that in a cause of compassion 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 427 

and honour he had been able to get the better of himself. She read over 
her aunt's commendation of him again and again. It was hardly enough ; 
but it pleased her. She was even sensible of some pleasure, though mixed 
with regref, on finding how steadfastly both she and her uncle had been 
persuaded that'affection and confidence subsisted between Mr. Darcy and 
herself. 

She was roused from her seat and her reflections by someone's ap- 
proach ; and before she could strike into another path she was overtaken 
by Wickham. 

"I am afraid I interrupt your solitary ramble, my dear sister," said he, 
as he joined her. 

"You certainly do," she replied with a smile; "but it does not follow 
that the interruption must be unwelcome." 

"I should be sorry indeed if it were. We were always good friends ; and 
now we are better." 

"True. Are the others coming out?" 

"I do not know. Mrs. Bennet and Lydia are going in the carriage to 
Meryton. And so, my dear sister, I find from our uncle and aunt that you 
have actually seen Pemberley." 

She replied in the affirmative. 

"I almost envy you the pleasure, and yet I believe it would be too much 
for me, or else I could take it in my way to Newcastle. And you saw the 
old housekeeper, I suppose? Poor Reynolds, she was always very fond of 
me. But of course she did not mention my name to you." 

"Yes, she did." 

"And what did she say?" 

"That you were gone into the army, and, she was afraid, had not 
turned out well. At such a distance as that, you know, things are strangely 
misrepresented." 

"Certainly," he replied, biting his lips. 

Elizabeth hoped she had silenced him; but he soon afterwards said: 

"I was surprised to see Darcy in town last month. We passed each other 
several times. I wonder what he can be doing there?" 

"Perhaps preparing for his marriage with Miss de Bourgh," said Eliza- 
beth. "It must be something particular to take him there at this time of 
year." 

"Undoubtedly. Did you see him while you were at Lambton? I thought 
I understood from the Gardiners that you had." 

"Yes ; he introduced us to his sister." 

"And do you like her?" 

"Very much." 

"I have heard, indeed, that she is uncommonly improved within this 
year or two. When I last saw her she was not very promising. I am very 
glad you liked her. I hope she will turn out well." 

"I dare say she will; she has got over the most trying age." 



428 THEWORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

"Did you go by the village of Kympton?" 

"I do not recollect that we did." 

"I mention it because it is the living which I ought to have had. A most 
delightful place! Excellent parsonage house! It would have suited me in 
every respect." 

"How should you have liked making sermons?" 

"Exceedingly well. I should have considered it as part of my duty, and 
the exertion would soon have been nothing. One ought not to repine; but, 
to be sure, it would have been such a thing for me ! The quiet, the retire- 
ment of such a life, would have answered all my ideas of happiness! But 
it was not to be. Did you ever hear Darcy mention the circumstance when 
you were in Kent?" 

"I have heard, from authority which I thought as good, that it was left 
you conditionally only, and at the will of the present patron." 

"You have! Yes, there was something in that; I told you so from the 
first, you may remember." 

"I did hear, too, that there was a time when sermon-making was not 
so palatable to you as it seems to be at present that you actually declared 
your resolution of never taking orders, and that the business had been 
compromised accordingly." 

"You did! And it was not wholly without foundation. You may 
remember what I told you on that point, when first we talked of it." 

They were now almost at the door of the house, for she had walked fast 
to get rid of him, and, unwilling for her sister's sake, to provoke him, she 
only said in reply, with a good-humoured smile: 

"Come, Mr. Wickham, we are brother and sister, you know. Do not 
let us quarrel about the past. In future, I hope we shall be always of one 
mind." 

She held out her hand ; he kissed it with affectionate gallantry, though 
he hardly knew how to look, and they entered the house. 



Chapter 53 

MR. WICKHAM was so perfectly satisfied with this conversation, that 
he never again distressed himself or provoked his dear sister Elizabeth 
by introducing the subject of it; and she was pleased to find that she had 
said enough to keep him quiet. 

The day of his and Lydia's departure soon came, and Mrs. Bennet was 
forced to submit to a separation which, as her husband by no means 
entered into her scheme of their all going to Newcastle, was likely to 
continue at least a twelvemonth. 

"Oh! my dear Lydia," she cried, "when shall we meet again?" 

"Oh, Lord! I don't know. Not these two or three years, perhaps." 

"Write to me very often, my dear." 

"As often as I can. But you know married women have never much 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 429 

time for writing. My sisters may write to me. They will have nothing else 
to do." 

Mr. Wickham's adieux were much more affectionate than his wife's. 
He smiled, looked handsome, and said many pretty things. 

"He is as fine a fellow," said Mr. Bennet, as soon as they were out of 
the house, "as ever I saw. He simpers, and smirks, and makes love to us 
all. I am prodigiously proud of him. I defy even Sir William Lucas himself 
to produce a more valuable son-in-law." 

The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very dull for several days. 

"I often think," said she, "that there is nothing so bad as parting with 
one's friends. One seems so forlorn without them." 

"This is the consequence, you see, madam, of marrying a daughter," 
said Elizabeth. "It must make you better satisfied that your other four 
are single." 

"It is no such thing. Lydia does not leave me because she is married, 
but only because her husband's regiment happen to be so far off. If that 
had been nearer, she would not have gone so soon." 

But the spiritless condition which this event threw her into was shortly 
relieved, and her mind opened again to the agitation of hope, by an 
article of news which then began to be in circulation. The housekeeper at 
Netherfield had received orders to prepare for the arrival of her master, 
who was coming down in a day or two, to shoot there for several weeks. 
Mrs. Bennet was quite in the fidgets. She looked at Jane, and smiled, and 
shook her head by turns. 

"Well, well and so Mr. Bingley is coming down, sister" (for Mrs. Philips 
first brought the news). "Well, so much the better. Not that I care about 
it, though. He is nothing to us, you know, and I am sure I never want to 
see him again. But, however, he is very welcome to come to Netherfield, 
if he likes it. And who knows what may happen? But that is nothing to us. 
You know, sister, we agreed long ago never to mention a word about it. 
And so, is it quite certain he is coming?" 

"You may depend on it," replied the other, "for Mrs. Nicholls was in 
Meryton last night : I saw her passing by, and went out myself on purpose 
to know the truth of it; and she told me that it was certainly true. He 
comes down on Thursday at the latest, very likely on Wednesday. She 
was going to the butcher's, she told me, on purpose to order in some meat 
on Wednesday, and she has got three couple of ducks just fit to be killed." 

Miss Bennet had not been able to hear of his coming without changing 
colour. It was many months since she had mentioned his name to Eliza- 
be*h, but now, as soon as they were alone together, she said: 

"I saw you look at me to-day, Lizzy, when my aunt told us of the 
present report; and I know I appeared distressed; but don't imagine it 
was from .any silly cause. I was only confused for the moment, because I 
felt that I should be looked at. I do assure you that the news does not 
affect me either with pleasure or pain. I am glad of one thine that he 



430 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

comes alone ; because we shall see the less of him. Not that I am afraid 
of myself, but I dread other people's remarks." 

Elizabeth did not know what to make of it. Had she not seen him in 
Derbyshire, she might have supposed him capable of coming there with 
no other view than what was acknowledged; but she still thought him 
partial to Jane, and she wavered as to the greater probability of his 
coming there with his friend's permission, or being bold enough to come 
without it. 

"Yet it is hard," she sometimes thought, "that this poor man cannot 
come to a house which he has legally hired without raising all this specu- 
lation! I will leave him to himself." 

In spite of what her sister declared, and really believed to be her 
feelings, in the expectation of his arrival, Elizabeth could easily perceive 
that her spirits were affected by it. They were more disturbed, more 
unequal, than she had often seen them. 

The subject which had been so warmly canvassed between their parents 
about a twelvemonth ago was now brought forward again. 

"As soon as ever Mr. Bingley comes, my dear," said Mrs. Bennet, "you 
will wait on him, of course." 

"No, no. You forced me into visiting him last year, and promised, if 
I went to see him, he should marry one of my daughters. But it ended in 
nothing, and I will not be sent on a fool's errand again." 

His wife represented to him how absolutely necessary such an attention 
would be from all the neighbouring gentlemen, on his returning to 
Netherfield. 

" 'Tis an etiquette I despise," said he. "If he wants our society, let him 
seek it. He knows where we live. I will not spend my hours in running after 
my neighbours every time they go away and come back again." 

"Well, all I know is, that it will be abominably rude if you do not wait 
on him. But, however, that shan't prevent my asking him to dine here, 
I am determined. We must have Mrs. Long and the Gouldings soon. That 
will make thirteen with ourselves, so there will be just room at table for 
him." 

Consoled by this resolution, she was the better able to bear her hus- 
band's incivility; though it was very mortifying to know that her neigh- 
bours might all see Mr. Bingley, in consequence of it, before they did. As 
the day of his arrival drew near: 

"I begin to be sorry that he comes at all," said Jane to her sister. "It 
would be nothing ; I could see him with perfect indifference ; but I can 
hardly bear to hear it thus perpetually talked of. My mother means well ; 
but she does not know no one can know how much I suffer from what 
she says. Happy shall I be when his stay at Netherfield is over! " 

"I wish I could say anything to comfort you," replied Elizabeth; "but 
it is wholly out of my power. You must feel it; and the usual satisfaction 
of preaching patience to a sufferer is denied me, because you have always 
so much." 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 431 

Mr. Bingley arrived. Mrs. Bennet, through the assistance of servants, 
contrived to have the earliest tidings of it, that the period of anxiety and 
fretfulness on her side might be as long as it could. She counted the days 
that must intervene before their invitation could be sent hopeless of 
seeing him before. But, on the third morning after his arrival in Hertford- 
shire, she saw him from her dressing-room window enter the paddock and 
ride towards the house. 

Her daughters were eagerly called to partake of her joy. Jane resolutely 
kept her place at the table ; but Elizabeth, to satisfy her mother, went to 
the window she looked she saw Mr. Darcy with him, and sat down 
again by her sister. 

"There is a gentleman with him, mamma," said Kitty; "who can it be?" 

"Some acquaintance or other, my dear, I suppose; I am sure I do not 
know." 

"La! " replied Kitty, "it looks just like that man that used to be with 
him before Mr. what's his name. That tall, proud man." 

"Good gracious! Mr. Darcy! And so it does, I vow. Well, any friend of 
Mr. Bingley's will always be welcome here, to be sure; but else I must say 
that I hate the very sight of him." 

Jane looked at Elizabeth with surprise and concern. She knew but little 
)f their meeting in Derbyshire, and therefore felt for the awkwardness 
vhich must attend her sister, in seeing him almost for the first time after 
receiving his explanatory letter. Both sisters were uncomfortable enough. 
Each felt for the other, and of course for themselves; and their mother 
talked on, of her dislike of Mr. Darcy, and her resolution to be civil to 
him only as Mr. Bingley's friend, without being heard by either of them. 
But Elizabeth had sources of uneasiness which could not be suspected 
by Jane, to whom she had never yet had courage to show Mrs. Gardiner's 
letter, or to relate her own change of sentiment towards him. To Jane, he 
could be only a man whose proposals she had refused, and whose merit 
she had undervalued ; but to her own more extensive information, he was 
the person to whom the whole family were indebted for the first of bene- 
fits, and whom she regarded herself with an interest, if not quite so tender, 
at least as reasonable and just as what Jane felt for Bingley. Her astonish- 
ment at his coming at his coming to Netherfield, to Longbourn, and 
voluntarily seeking her again, was almost equal to what she had knowr- 
on first witnessing his altered behaviour in Derbyshire. 

The colour which had been driven from her face, returned for half a 
minute with an additional glow, and a smile of delight added lustre to 
her eyes, as she thought for that space of time, that his affection and 
wishes must still be unshaken. But she would not be secure. 

"Let me first see how he behaves," said she; "it will then be early 
enough for expectations." 

She sat intently at work striving to be composed, and without daring 
to lift up her eyes, till anxious curiosity carried them to the face of her 
sister, as the servant was approaching the door. Jane looked a little paler 



432 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

than usual, but more sedate than Elizabeth had expected. On the gentle- 
men's appearing, her colour increased; yet she received them with toler- 
able ease, and with a propriety of behaviour equally free from any symp- 
tom of resentment, or any unnecessary complaisance. 

Elizabeth said as little to either as civility would allow, and sat down 
again to her work, with an eagerness which it did not often command. 
She had ventured only one glance at Darcy. He looked serious as usual, 
and, she thought, more as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire than 
as she had seen him at Pemberley. But, perhaps, he could not in her 
mother's presence be what he was before her uncle and aunt. It was a 
painful, but not an improbable, conjecture. 

Bingley she had likewise seen for an instant, and in that short period 
saw him looking both pleased and embarrassed. He was received by Mrs. 
Bennet with a degree of civility which made her two daughters ashamed, 
especially when contrasted with the cold and ceremonious politeness of 
her curtsey and address of his friend. 

Elizabeth particularly, who knew that her mother owed to the latter 
the preservation of her favourite daughter from irremediable infamy, was 
hurt and distressed to a most painful degree by a distinction so ill-applied. 

Darcy, after inquiring of her how Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner did a ques- 
tion which she could not answer without confusion said scarcely any- 
thing. He was not seated by her; perhaps that was the reason of his 
silence; but it had not been so in Derbyshire. There he had talked to her 
friends, when he could not to herself. But now several minutes elapsed, 
without bringing the sound of his voice; and when occasionally, unable 
to resist the impulse of curiosity, she raised her eyes to his face, she as 
often found him looking at Jane as at herself, and frequently on no object 
but the ground. More thoughtfulness, and less anxiety to please than 
when they last met, were plainly expressed. She was disappointed, and 
angry with herself for being so. 

"Could I expect it to be otherwise! " said she. "Yet why did he come?" 

She was in no humour for conversation with anyone but himself ; and 
to him she had hardly courage to speak. 

She inquired after his sister, but could do no more. 

"It is a long time, Mr. Bingley, since you went away," said Mrs. Bennet. 

He readily agreed to it. "I began to be afraid you would never come 
back again. People did say, you meant to quit the place entirely at 
Michaelmas; but, however, I hope it is not true. A great many changes 
have happened in the neighbourhood since you went away. Miss Lucas 
is married and settled. And one of my own daughters. I suppose you have 
heard of it; indeed, you must have seen it in the papers. It was in The 
Times and the Courier, I know; though it was not put in as it ought to be. 
It was only said, 'Lately, George Wickham, Esq., to Miss Lydia Bennet,' 
without there being a syllable said of her father, or the place where she 
lived, or anything. It was my brother Gardiner's drawing up too, and I 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 433 

wonder how he came to make such an awkward business of it. Did you 
see it?" 

Bingley replied that he did, and made his congratulations. Elizabeth 
dared not lift up her eyes. How Mr. Darcy looked, therefore, she could 
not tell. 

"It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter well married," 
continued her mother; "but, at the same time, Mr. Bingley, it is very hard 
to have her taken away from me. They are gone down to Newcastle, a 
place quite northward, it seems, and there they are to stay I do not know 
how long. His regiment is there; for I suppose you have heard of his 

leaving the shire, and of his being gone into the regulars. Thank 

Heaven; he has some friends, though, perhaps, not so many as he de- 
serves." 

Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy, was in such 
misery of shame that she could hardly keep her seat. It drew from her, 
however, the exertion of speaking, which nothing else had so effectually 
done before ; and she asked Bingley whether he meant to make any stay 
in the country at present. A few weeks, he believed. 

"When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley," said her 
mother, "I beg you will come here, and shoot as many as you please, on 
Mr. Bennet's manor. I am sure he will be vastly happy to oblige you, and 
will save all the best of the covies for you." 

Elizabeth's misery increased at such unnecessary, such officious atten- 
tion ! Were the same fair prospect to arise at present as had flattered them 
a year ago, everything, she was persuaded, would be hastening to the same 
vexatious conclusions. At that instant she felt that years of happiness 
could not make Jane or herself amends for moments of such painful con- 
fusion. 

"The first wish of my heart," said she to herself, "is never more to be 
in company with either of them. Their society can afford no pleasure that 
will atone for such wretchedness as this! Let me never see either one or 
the other again!" 

Yet the misery, for which years of happiness were to offer no com- 
pensation, received soon afterwards material relief from observing how 
much the beauty of her sister rekindled the admiration of her former 
lover. When first he came in, he had spoken to her but little, but every 
five minutes seemed to be giving her more of his attention. He found her 
as handsome as she had been last year as good-natured and as un- 
affected, though not quite so chatty. Jane was anxious that no difference 
should be perceived in her at all, and was really persuaded that she talked 
as much as ever. But her mind was so busily engaged that she did not 
always know when she was silent. 

When the gentlemen rose to go away, Mrs. Bennet was mindful of her 
intended civility, and they were invited and engaged to dine at Long- 
bourn in a few days' time. 

"You are quite a visit in my debt, Mr. Bingley," she added; "for when 



434 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

you went to town last winter you promised to take a family dinner with 
us as soon as you returned. I have not forgot, you see; and I assure you 
I was very much disappointed that you did not come back and keep your 
engagement." 

Bingley looked a little silly at this reflection, and said something of his 
r.oncern at having been prevented by business. They then went away. 

Mrs. Bennet had been strongly inclined to ask them to stay and dine 
,'here that day; but, though she always kept a very good table, she did 
not think anything less than two courses could be good enough for a man 
sn whom she had such anxious designs, or satisfy the appetite and pride of 
one who had ten thousand a-year. 



Chapter 54 

As soon as they were gone Elizabeth walked out to recover her spirits, 
or, in other words, to dwell without interruption on those subjects that 
must deaden them more. Mr. Darcy 's behaviour astonished and vexed her. 

"Why, if he came only to be silent, grave, and indifferent," said she, 
"did he come at all?" 

She could settle it in no way that gave her pleasure. 

"He could be still amiable, still pleasing to my uncle and aunt, when he 
was in town ; and why not to me? If he fears me, why come hither? If he no 
longer cares for me, why silent? Teasing, teasing man! I will think no 
more about him." 

Her resolution was for a short time involuntarily kept by the approach 
of her sister, who joined her with a cheerful look, which showed her better 
satisfied with their visitors than Elizabeth. 

"Now," said she, "that this first meeting is over, I feel perfectly easy. 
I know my own strength, and I shall never be embarrassed again by his 
coming. I am glad he dines here on Tuesday: it will then be publicly seen 
that on both sides we met only as common and indifferent acquaintances." 

"Yes, very indifferent indeed," said Elizabeth, laughingly. "Oh, Jane! 
take care." 

"My dear Lizzy, you cannot think me so weak as to be in danger now." 

"I think you are in very great danger of making him as much in love 
with you as ever." 

They did not see the gentlemen again till Tuesday; and Mrs. Bennet, in 
the meanwhile, was giving way to all the happy schemes which the good 
humour and common politeness of Bingley, in half-an-hour's visit, had 
revived. 

On Tuesday there was a large-party assembled at Longbourn ; and the 
two, who were most anxiously expected, to the credit of their punctuality 
as sportsmen, were in very good time. When they repaired to the dining- 
room, Elizabeth eagerly watched to see whether Bingley would take the 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 43S 

place which, in all their former parties, had belonged to him, by her sister. 
Hei prudent mother, occupied by the same ideas, forbore to invite him to 
sit by herself. On entering the room, he seemed to hesitate; but Jane 
happened to look round, and happened to smile; it was decided he 
placed himself by her. 

Elizabeth, with a triumphant sensation, looked towards his friend. He 
bore it with noble indifference, and she would have imagined that Bingley 
had received his sanction to be happy, had she not seen his eyes likewise 
turned towards Mr. Darcy, with an expression of half-laughing alarm. 

His behaviour to her sister was such, during dinnertime, as showed an 
admiration of her which, though more guarded than formerly, persuaded 
Elizabeth, that if left wholly to himself, Jane's happiness, and his own, 
would be speedily secured. Though she dared not depend upon the conse- 
quence, she yet received pleasure from observing his behaviour. It gave 
her all the animation that her spirits could boast; for she was in no 
cheerful humour. Mr. Darcy was almost as far from her as the table could 
divide them. He was on one side of her mother. She knew how little such 
a situation would give pleasure to either, or make either appear to ad- 
vantage. She was not near enough to hear any of their discourse ; but she 
could see how seldom they spoke to each other, and how formal and cold 
was their manner whenever they did. Her mother's ungraciousness made 
the sense of what they owed him more painful to Elizabeth's mind ; and 
she would, at times, have given anything to be privileged to tell him that 
his kindness was neither unknown nor unfelt by the whole of the family. 

She was in hopes that the evening would afford some opportunity of 
bringing them together ; that the whole of the visit would not pass away 
without enabling them to enter into something more of conversation, than 
the mere ceremonious salutation attending his entrance. Anxious and 
uneasy, the period which passed in the drawing-room, before the gentle- 
men came, was wearisome and dull to a degree that almost made her 
uncivil. She looked forward to their entrance as the point on which all her 
chance of pleasure for the evening must depend. 

"If he does not come to me then" said she, "I shall give him up for 
ever." 

The gentlemen came; and she thought he looked as if he would have 
answered her hopes; but, alas! the ladies had crowded round the table, 
where Miss Bennet was making tea, and Elizabeth pouring out the coffee, 
in so close a confederacy, that there was not a single vacancy near her 
which would admit of a chair. And on the gentlemen's approaching, one 
of the girls moved closer to her than ever, and said, in a whisper: 

"The men shan't come and part us, I am determined. We want none of 
them; do we?" 

Darcy had walked away to another part of the room. She followed him 
with her eyes, envied every one to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience 
enough to help anybody to coffee, and then was enraged against herself 
for being so silly! 



436 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

"A man who has once been refused! How could I ever be foolish enough 
to expect a renewal of his love? Is there one among the sex who would not 
protest against such a weakness as a second proposal to the same woman? 
There is no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings!" 

She was a little revived, however, by his bringing back his coffee-cup 
himself; and she seized the opportunity of saying, "Is your sister at 
Pemberley still?" 

"Yes, she will remain there till Christmas." 

"And quite alone? Have all her friends left her?" 

"Mrs. Annesley is with her. The others have been gone on to Scar- 
borough these three weeks." 

She could think of nothing more to say ; but if he wished to converse 
with her, he might have better success. He stood by her, however, for 
some minutes, in silence ; and, at last, on the young ladies whispering to 
Elizabeth again, he walked away. 

When the tea-things were removed, and the card-tables placed, the 
ladies all rose, and Elizabeth was then hoping to be soon joined by him, 
when all her views were overthrown by seeing him fall a victim to her 
mother's rapacity for whist-players, and in a few moments after seated 
with the rest of the party. She now lost every expectation of pleasure. 
They were confined for the evening at different tables, and she had nothing 
to hope, but that his eyes were so often turned towards her side of the 
room, as to make him play as unsuccessfully as herself. 

Mrs. Bennet had designed to keep the two Netherfield gentlemen to 
supper; but their carriage was unluckily ordered before any of the others, 
and she had no opportunity of detaining them. 

"Well, girls," said she, as soon as they were left to themselves, "'what 
say you to the day? I think everything has passed off uncommonly well, 
I assure you. The dinner was as well dressed as any I ever saw. The 
venison was roasted to a turn and everybody said, they never saw so fat 
a haunch. The soup was fifty times better than what we had at the Lucases' 
last week; and even Mr. Darcy acknowledged that the partridges were 
remarkably well done ; and I suppose he has two or three French cooks at 
least. And, my dear Jane, I never saw you look in greater beauty. Mrs. 
Long said so too, for I asked her whether you did not. And what do you 
think she said besides? 'Ah! Mrs. Bennet, we shall have her at Netherfield 
at last.' She did indeed. I do think Mrs. Long is as good a creature as ever 
lived and her nieces are very pretty behaved girls, and not at all hand- 
some: I like them prodigiously." 

Mrs. Bennet, in short, was in very great spirits. She had seen enough of 
Bingley's behaviour to Jane, to be convinced that she would get him at 
last; and her expectations of advantage to her family, when in a happy 
humour, were so far beyond reason, that she was quite disappointed at 
not seeing him there again the next day to make his proposals. 

"It has been a very agreeable day/' said Miss Bennet to Elizabeth. 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 437 

The party seemed so well selected, so suitable one with the other. I hope 
we may often meet again." 

Elizabeth smiled. 

"Lizzy, you must not do so. You must not suspect me. It mortifies me. 
I assure you that I have now learnt to enjoy his conversation as an agree- 
able and sensible young man, without having a wish beyond it. I am 
perfectly satisfied from what his manners now are, that he never had any 
design of engaging my affection. It is only that he is blessed with greater 
sweetness of address, and a stronger desire of generally pleasing, than any 
other man." 

"You are very cruel," said her sister; "you will not let me smile, and are 
provoking me to it every moment." 

"How hard it is in some cases to be believed!" 

"And how impossible in others!" 

"But why should you wish to persuade me that I feel more than I 
acknowledge?" 

"That is a question which I hardly know how to answer. We all love to 
instruct, though we can teach only what is not worth knowing. Forgive 
me ; and if you persist in indifference, do not make me your confidante ." 



Chapter 55 

A FEW days after this visit, Mr. Bingley called again, and alone. His 
friend had left him that morning for London, but was to return home 
in ten days' time. He sat with them above an hour, and was in remarkably 
good spirits. Mrs. Bennet invited him to dine with them; but, with many 
expressions of concern, he confessed himself engaged elsewhere. 

"Next time you call," said she, "I hope we shall be more lucky." 

He should be particularly happy at any time, etc., etc., and if she would 
give him leave, would take an early opportunity of waiting on them. 

"Can you come to-morrow?" 

Yes, he had no engagement at all for to-morrow; and her invitation was 
accepted with alacrity. 

He came, and in such very good time, that the ladies were none of them 
dressed. In ran Mrs. Bennet to her daughters' room, in her dressing gown, 
and with her hair half finished, crying out, "My dear Jane, make haste 
and hurry down. He is come Mr. Bingley is come. He is indeed. Make 
haste, make haste. Here, Sarah, come to Miss Bennet this moment, and 
help her on with her gown. Never mind Miss Lizzy's hair." 

"We will be down as soon as we can," said Jane; "but I dare say Kitty 
is forwarder than either of us, for she went upstairs half an hour ago." 

"Oh! hang Kitty! what has she to do with it! Come, be quick, be quick! 
where is your sash, my dear?" 

But when her mother was gone, Jane would not be prevailed on to go 
down without one of her sisters. 



438 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

The same anxiety to get them by themselves, was visible again in the 
evening. After tea, Mr. Bennet retired to the library, as was his custom, 
and Mary went upstairs to her instrument. Two obstacles of the five being 
thus removed, Mrs. Bennet sat looking and winking at Elizabeth and 
Catherine for a considerable time, without making any impression on 
them. Elizabeth would not observe her; and when at last Kitty did, she 
very innocently said, "What is the matter, mamma? What do you keep 
winking at me for? What am I to do?" 

"Nothing, child, nothing. I did not wink at you." 

She then sat still five minutes longer; but, unable to waste such a 
precious occasion, she suddenly got up, and saying to Kitty, "Come here, 
my love, I want to speak to you," took her out of the room. Jane instantly 
gave a look at Elizabeth, which spoke her distress at such premeditation, 
and her entreaty that she would not give in to it. 

In a few minutes, Mrs. Bennet half opened the door, and called out, 
"Lizzy, my dear, I want to speak with you." 

Elizabeth was forced to go. "We may as well leave them by themselves, 
you know," said her mother as soon as she was in the hall. "Kitty and I 
are going upstairs to sit in my dressing-room." 

Elizabeth made no attempt to reason with her mother, but remained 
quietly in the hall till she and Kitty were out of sight, then returned into 
the drawing-room. 

Mrs. Bennet's schemes for this day were ineffectual. Bingley was every- 
thing that was charming, except the professed lover of her daughter. His 
ease and cheerfulness rendered him a most agreeable addition to their 
evening party; and he bore with the ill-judged officiousness of the mother, 
and heard all her silly remarks with a forbearance and command of 
countenance particularly grateful to the daughter. 

He scarcely needed an invitation to stay to supper ; and before he went 
away, an engagement was formed, chiefly through his own and Mrs. 
Bennet's means, for his coming next morning to shoot with her husband. 

After this day, Jane said no more of her indifference. Not a word passed 
between the sisters concerning Bingley; but Elizabeth went to bed in the 
happy belief that all must speedily be concluded, unless Mr. Darcy 
returned within the stated time. Seriously, however, she felt tolerably 
persuaded that all this must have taken place with that gentleman's 
concurrence. 

Bingley was punctual to his appointment ; and he and Mr. Bennet spent 
the morning together, as had been agreed on. The latter was much more 
agreeable than his companion expected. There was nothing of presumption 
or folly in Bingley, that could provoke his ridicule, or disgust him into 
silence ; and he was more communicative and less eccentric than the other 
had ever seen him. Bingley, of course, returned with him to dinner ; and in 
the evening Mrs. Bennet's invention was again at work to get everybody 
away from him and fier daughter. Elizabeth, who had a letter to write, 
went into the breakfast room for that purpose soon after tea ; for as the 






PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 439 

others were all going to sit down to cards, she could not be wanted to 
counteract her mother's schemes. 

But on returning to the drawing-room when her letter was finished, she 
saw, to her infinite surprise, there was reason to fear that her mother had 
been too ingenious for her. On opening the door, she perceived her sister 
and Bingley standing together over the hearth as if engaged in earnest con* 
versation; and had this led to no suspicion, the faces of both, as they 
hastily turned round and moved away from each other, would have told it 
all. Their situation was awkward enough ; but hers, she thought, was still 
worse. Not a syllable was uttered by either ; and Elizabeth was on the point 
of going away again, when Bingley, who as well as the other had sat down, 
suddenly rose, and whispering a few words to her sister, ran out of the 
room. 

Jane could have no reserves from Elizabeth, where confidence would 
give pleasure; and instantly embracing her, acknowledged with the live- 
liest emotion, that she was the happiest creature in the world. 

" Tis too much," she added, "by far too much. I do not deserve it. Oh! 
why is not everybody as happy! " 

Elizabeth's congratulations were given with a sincerity, a warmth, a 
delight, which words could but poorly express. Every sentence of kindness 
was a fresh source of happiness to Jane. But she would not allow herself to 
stay with her sister, or say half that remained to be said, for the present. 

"I must go instantly to my mother," she cried; "I would not on any 
account trifle with her affectionate solicitude, or allow her to hear it from 
any one but myself. He is gone to my father already. Oh! Lizzy, to know 
that what I have to relate will give such pleasure to all my dear family ! 
how shall I bear so much happiness! " 

She then hastened away to her mother, who had purposely broken up 
the card party, and was sitting upstairs with Kitty. 

Elizabeth, who was left by herself, now smiled at the rapidity and ease 
with which an affair was finally settled that had given them so many pre- 
vious months of suspense and vexation. 

"And this," said she, "is the end of all his friend's anxious circum- 
spection ! of all his sister's falsehood and contrivance! the happiest, wisest, 
and most reasonable end! " 

In a few minutes she was joined by Bingley, whose conference with her 
father had been short and to the purpose. 

"Where is your sister?" said he hastily, as he opened the door. 

"With my mother upstairs. She will be down in a moment, I dare say." 

He then shut the door, and coming up to her, claimed the good wishes 
and affection of a sister. Elizabeth honestly and heartily expressed her 
delight in the prospect of their relationship. They shook hands with great 
cordiality ; and then till her sister came down, she had to listen to all lie 
had to say of his own happiness, and of Jane's perfections ; and in spite 
of his being a lover, Elizabeth really believed all his expectations oi 
felicity to be rationally founded, because they had for basis the excellent 



440 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

understanding and super-excellent disposition of Jane, and a general 
similarity of feeling and taste between her and himself. 

It was an evening of no common delight to them all. The satisfaction of 
Miss Bennet's mind gave such a glow of sweet animation to her face, as 
made her look handsomer than ever. Kitty simpered and smiled, and 
hoped her turn was coming soon. Mrs. Bennet could not give her consent or 
speak her approbation in terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings, 
though she talked to Bingley of nothing else for half-an-hour, and when 
Mr. Bennet joined them at supper, his voice and manner plainly showed 
how really happy he was. 

Not a word, however, passed his lips in allusion to it, till their visitor 
took his leave for the night ; but as soon as he was gone, he turned to his 
daughter and said: 

"Jane, I congratulate you. You will be ? very happy woman." 

Jane went to him instantly, kissed him, and thanked him for his 
goodness. 

"You are a good girl," he replied, "and I have great pleasure in thinking 
you will be so happily settled. I have not a doubt of your doing very well 
together. Your tempers are by no means unlike. You are each of you so 
complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so easy, that every 
servant will cheat you ; and so generous, that you will always exceed your 
income." 

"I hope not so. Imprudence or thoughtlessness in money matters would 
oe unpardonable in me" 

"Exceed their income! My dear Mr. Bennet," cried his wife, "what are 
you talking of? Why, he has four or five thousand a-year, and very likely 
more." Then addressing her daughter, "Oh! my dear, dear Jane, I am so 
happy, I am sure I shan't get a wink of sleep all night. I knew how it 
would be. I always said it must be so, at last. I was sure you could not be 
so beautiful for nothing ! I remember, as soon as ever I saw him, when he 
first came into Hertfordshire last year, I thought how likely it was that 
you should come together. Oh! he is the handsomest young man that ever 
was seen!" 

Wickham, Lydia, were all forgotten. Jane was beyond competition her 
favourite child. At that moment she cared for no other. Her younger 
sisters soon began to make interest with her for objects of happiness 
jyhich she might in future be able to dispense. 

Mary petitioned for the use of the library at Netherfield; and Kitty 
begged very hard for a few balls there every winter. 

Bingley, from this time, was of course a daily visitor at Longbourn, 
coming frequently before breakfast, and always remaining till after sup- 
per, unless when some barbarous neighbour, who could not be enough 
detested, had given him an invitation to dinner, which he thought himself 
obliged to accept. 

Elizabeth had now but little time for conversation with her sister; for 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 441 

while he was present, Jane had no attention to bestow on any one else ; but 
she found herself considerably useful to both of them, in those hours of 
separation that must sometimes occur. Ii the absence of Jane, he always 
attached himself to Elizabeth for the pleasure of talking to her ; and when 
Bingley was gone, Jane constantly sought the same means of relief. 

"He has made me so happy," said she, one evening, "by telling me, that 
he was totally ignorant of my being in town last spring! I had not believed 
it possible." 

"I suspected as much," replied Elizabeth. "But how did he account 
for it?" 

"It must have been his sisters' doing. They were certainly no friends to 
his acquaintance with me, which I cannot wonder at, since he might have 
chosen so much more advantageously in many respects. But when they 
see, as I trust they will, that their brother is happy with me, they will 
learn to be contented, and we shall be on good terms again ; though we can 
never be what we once were to each other." 

"That is the most unforgiving speech," said Elizabeth, "that I ever , 
heard you utter. Good girl! It would vex me, indeed, to see you again the 
dupe of Miss Bingley 's pretended regard!" 

"Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he went to town last November, 
he really loved me, and nothing but a persuasion of my being indifferent 
would have prevented his coming down again!" 

"He made a little mistake, to be sure; but it is to the credit of his 
modesty." 

This naturally introduced a panegyric from Jane on his diffidence, and 
the little value he put on his own good qualities. 

Elizabeth was pleased to find that he had not betrayed the interference 
of his friend ; for, though Jane had the most generous and forgiving heart 
in the world, she knew it was a circumstance which must prejudice her 
against him. 

"I am qertainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!" criea 
Jane. "Oh! Lizzy, why am I thus singled from my family, and blessed 
above them all! If I could but see you as happy! If there were but such 
another man for you ! " 

"If you were to give me forty such men, I never could be so happy as 
you. Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your 
happiness. No, no, let me shift for myself; and perhaps, if I have very 
good luck, I may meet with another Mr. Collins in time." 

The situation of affairs in the Longbourn family could not be long a 
secret. Mrs. Bennet was privileged to whisper it to Mrs. Philips, and she 
ventured, without any permission, to do the same by all her neighbours in 
Meryton. 

The Bennets were speedily pronounced to be the luckiest family in the 
world, though only a few weeks before, when Lydia had first run away, 
they had been generally proved to be marked out for misfortune. 



<4 2 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

Chapter 56 

ONE morning, about a week after Bingley's engagement with Jane had 
6een formed, as he and the females of the family were sitting together in 
the breakfast-room, their attention was suddenly drawn to the window, 
by the sound of a carriage ; and they perceived a chaise-and-f our driving 
up the lawn. It was too early in the morning for visitors, and besides, the 
equipage did not answer to that of any of their neighbours. The horses 
were post ; and neither the carriage nor the livery of the servant who pre- 
ceded it, were familiar to them. As it was certain, however, that somebody 
was coming, Bingley instantly prevailed on Miss Bennet to avoid the 
confinement of such an intrusion, and walk away with him into the shrub- 
bery. They both set off, and the conjecture of the remaining three con- 
tinued, though with little satisfaction, till the door was thrown open, and 
their visitor entered. It was Lady Catherine de Bourgh. 
They were of course all intending to be surprised ; but their astonish- 
ment was beyond their expectation; and on the part of Mrs. Bennet and 
Kitty, though she was perfectly unknown to them, even inferior to what 
Elizabeth felt. 

She entered the room with an air more than usually ungracious, made 
no other reply to Elizabeth's salutation than a slight inclination of the 
head, and sat down without saying a word. Elizabeth had mentioned her 
name to her mother on her ladyship's entrance, though no request of 
introduction had been made. 

Mrs. Bennet, all amazement, though flattered by having a guest of 
such high importance, received her with the utmost politeness. After sit- 
ting for a moment in silence, she said very stiffly to Elizabeth: 

"I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. That lady, I suppose, is your 
mother?" 

Elizabeth replied very concisely that she was. , 

"And that, I suppose, is one of your sisters?" 

"Yes, madam," said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak to a Lady Cather- 
ine. "She is my youngest girl but one, my youngest of all is lately married, 
and my eldest is somewhere about the ground, walking with a young man, 
who, I believe, will soon become a part of the family." 

"You have a very small park here," returned Lady Catherine, after a 
short silence. 

"It is nothing in comparison of Rosings, my lady, I dare say; but, I 
assure you, it is much larger than Sir William Lucas's." 

"This must be a most inconvenient sitting-room for the evening in 
summer: the windows are full west." 

Mrs. Bennet assured her that they never sat there after dinner, and 
then added: 

"May I take the liberty of asking your ladyship whether you left Mr. 
and Mrs. Collins well?" 



FRiDEANDPREJUDICE 443 

"Yes, very well. I saw them the night before last." 

Elizabeth now expected that she would produce a letter for hei from 
Charlotte, as it seemed the only probable motive for her calling. But no 
letter appeared, and she was completely puzzled. 

Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, begged her ladyship to take some 
refreshment; but Lady Catherine very resolutely and not very politely, 
declined eating anything; and then rising up, said to Elizabeth: 

"Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of a little wilderness 
on one side of your lawn. I should be glad to take a turn in it, if you will 
favour me with your company." 

"Go, my dear," cried her mother, "and show her ladyship about the 
different walks. I think she will be pleased with the hermitage." 

Elizabeth obeyed, and, running into her own room for her parasol, 
attended her noble guest downstairs. As they passed through the hall, 
Lady Catherine opened the doors into the dining-parlour and drawing- 
room, and pronouncing them, after a short survey, to be decent-looking 
rooms, walked on. 

Her carriage remained at the door, and Elizabeth saw that, her waiting- 
woman was in it. They proceeded in silence along the gravel- walk that led 
to the copse; Elizabeth was determined to make no effort for conversation 
with a woman who was now more than usually insolent and disagreeable. 

"How could I ever think her like her nephew?" said she, as she looked 
in her face. 

As soon as they entered the copse, Lady Catherine began in the follow- 
ing manner: 

"You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my 
journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why 
I come." 

Elizabeth looked with unaffected astonishment. 

"Indeed, you are mistaken, madam. I have net been at all able to 
account for the honour of seeing you here." 

"Miss Bennet," replied her ladyship, in an angry tone, "you ought to 
know that I am not to be trifled with. But, however insincere you may 
choose to be, you shall not find me so. My character has ever been cele- 
brated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a ^ause of such moment a*, 
this I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a most alarming 
nature reached me two days ago. I was told that not only your sister 
was on the point of being most advantageously married, but that you, 
that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would, in all likelihood, be soon afterwards 
united to my nephew my own nephew Mr. Darcy. Though I know it 
must be a scandalous falsehood though I would not injure him so much 
as to suppose the truth of it possible, I instantly resolved on setting off 
for this place, that I might make my sentiments known to you." 

'it you believed it impossible to be true," said Elizabeth, colouring 
with astonishment and disdain, "I wondf r you took the trouble of coming 
so far. What could your ladyship propose by it?" 



444 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

"At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted." 

"Your coming to Longbourn, to see me and my family," said Elizabeth 
coolly, "will be rather a confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a report is in 
existence." 

"If! do you, then, pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been indus- 
triously circulated by yourselves? Do you not know that such a report is 
spread abroad?" 

"I never heard that it was/' 

"And can you likewise declare, that there is no foundation for it?" 

"I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. You 
may ask questions, which / shall not choose to answer." 

"This is not to be borne! Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied. Has 
he, has my nephew, made you an offer of marriage?" 

"Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible." 

"It ought to be so ; it must be so, while he retains the use of his reason. 
But your arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation, have 
made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. You may 
have drawn him in." 

"If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it." 

"Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I have not been accustomed to 
such language as this. I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world, 
and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns." 

"But you are not entitled to know mine; nor will such behaviour as this 
ever induce me to be explicit." 

"Let me be rightly understood. This match, to which you have the pre- 
sumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Mr. Darcy is engaged 
to my daughter. Now, what have you to say?" 

"Only this : that if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he will 
make an offer to me." 

Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment, and then replied: 

"The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their 
infancy, they have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish 
of his mother, as well as of hers. While in their cradles, we planned the 
union : and now, at the moment when the wishes of both sisters would be 
accomplished in their marriage, to be prevented by a young woman of 
inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to the 
family! Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends to his tacit 
engagement with Miss de Bourgh? Are you lost to every feeling of pro- 
priety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say that from his earliest 
hours he was destined for his cousin?" 

"Yes, and I had heard it before. But what is that to me? If there is no 
other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be kept 
from it by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to marry Miss 
de Bourgh. You both did as much as you could, in planning the marriage; 
its completion depended on others. If Mr. Darcy is neither by honour nor 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 445 

inclination confined to his cousin, why is not he to make another choice? 
and if I am that choice, why may I not accept him?" 

"Because honour, decorum, prudence nay, interest, forbid it. Yes, 
Miss Bennet, interest; for do not expect to be noticed by his family or 
friends if you wilfully act against the inclinations of all. You will be 
censured, slighted, and despised by every one connected with him. Your 
alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned by 
any of us." 

"These are heavy misfortunes," replied Elizabeth. "But the wife of Mr. 
Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily 
attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause 
to repine." 

"Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you! Is this your grati- 
tude for my attentions to you last spring? Is nothing due to me on that 
score? Let us sit down. You are to understand, Miss Bennet, that I came 
here with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will I be 
dissuaded from it. I have not been used to submit to any person's whims. 
I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment." 

"That will make your ladyship's situation at present more pitiable: 
but it will have no effect on me." 

"I will not be interrupted! Hear me in silence. My daughter and my 
nephew are formed for each other. They are descended, on the maternal 
side, from the same noble line; and, on the fathers', from respectable, 
honourable, and ancient, though untitled families. Their fortune on both 
sides is splended. They are destined for each other by the voice of every 
member of their respective houses; and what is to divide them? The 
upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, or 
fortune. Is this to be endured? But it must not, shall not be! If you were 
sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which 
you have been brought up." 

"In marrying your nephew I should not consider myself as quitting that 
sphere. He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman's daughter: so far we are 
equal." 

"True. You are a gentleman's daughter. But who was your mother? 
Who are your uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their 
condition." 

"Whatever my connections may be," said Elizabeth, "if your nephew 
does not object to them, they can be nothing to you" 

"Tell me, once for all, are you engaged to him?" 

Though Elizabeth would not, for the mere purpose of obliging Lady 
Catherine, have answered this question, she could not but say, after a 
moment's delberation, "I am not." 

Lady Catherine seemed pleased. 

"And will you promise me never to enter into such an engagement?" 

''I will make no promise of the kind." 

"Miss Bennet, I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find a more 



446 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

reasonable young woman. But do not deceive yourself into a belief that 
I will ever recede. I shall not go away till you have given me the assurance 
I require." 

"And I certainly never shall give it. I am not to be intimidated into 
anything so wholly unreasonable. Your ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to 
marry your daughter ; but would my giving you the wished-f or promise 
make their marriage at all more probable? Supposing him to be attached 
to me, would my refusing to accept his hand make him wish to bestow it 
on his cousin? Allow me to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with 
which you have supported this extraordinary application have been as 
frivolous as the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my 
character, if you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these. 
How far your nephew might approve of your interference in his affairs I 
cannot tell ; but you have certainly no right to concern yourself in mine. 
I must beg, therefore, to be importuned no farther on the subject." 

"Not so hasty, if you please. I have by no means done. To all the 
objections I have already urged, I have still another to add. I am no 
stranger to the particulars of your youngest sister's infamous elopement. 
I know it all ; that the young man's marrying her was a patched-up busi- 
ness, at the expense of your father and uncle. And is such a girl to be my 
nephew's sister? Is her husband, who is the son of his late father's steward, 
to be his brother? Heaven and earth of what are you thinking? Are the 
shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?" 

"You can now have nothing further to say," Elizabeth resentfully 
answered. "You have insulted me in every possible method. I must beg 
to return to the house." 

And she rose as she spoke. Lady Catherine rose also, and they turned 
back. Her ladyship was highly incensed. 

"You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of my nephew! 
Unfeeling, selfish girl! Do you not consider that a connection with you 
must disgrace him in the eye of everybody?" 

"Lady Catherine, I have nothing further to say. You know my senti- 
ments." 

"You are, then, resolved to have him?" 

"I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner 
which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference 
to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me." 

"It is well. You refuse, then, to oblige me. You refuse to obey the claims 
of duty, honour, and gratitude. You are determined to ruin him in the 
opinion of all his friends, and make him the contempt of the world." 

"Neither duty, nor honour, nor gratitude," replied Elizabeth, "has any 
possible claim on me in the present instance. No principle of either would 
be violated by my marriage with Mr. Darcy. And with regard to the re- 
sentment of his family or the indignation of the world, if the former were 
excited by his marrying me, it would not give me one moment's concern 
and the world in general would have too much sense to join in the scorn." 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 447 

"And this is your real opinion! This is your final resolve! Very well. I 
shall now know how to act. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that your 
ambition will ever be gratified. I came to try you. I hoped to find you 
reasonable; but, depend upon it, I will carry my point." 

In this manner Lady Catherine talked on, till they were at the door of 
the carriage, when, turning hastily round, she added : 

"I take no leave of you, Miss Bennet. I send no compliments to your 
mother. You deserve no such attention. I am seriously displeased." 

Elizabeth made no answer, and, without attempting to persuade her 
ladyship to return into the house, walked quietly into it herself. She heard 
the carriage drive away as she proceeded upstairs. Her mother impatiently 
met her at the door of the dressing-room, to ask why Lady Catherine 
would not come in again and rest herself. 

"She did not choose it," said her daughter; "she would go." 

"She is a very fine-looking woman! and her calling here was pn> 
digiously civil ! for she only came, I suppose, to tell us the Collinses were 
well. She is on her road somewhere, I dare say, and so, passing through 
Meryton, thought she might as well call on you. I suppose she had nothing 
particular to say to you, Lizzy?" 

Elizabeth was forced to give in to a little falsehood here ; for to acknowl- 
edge the substance of their conversation was impossible. 



Chapter 57 

THE discomposure of spirts which this extraordinary visit threw Eliza- 
beth into could not be easily overcome, nor could she for many hours learn 
to think of it less than incessantly. Lady Catherine^ it appeared, had 
actually taken the trouble of this journey from Rosings for the sole pur- 
pose of breaking off her supposed engagement with Mr. Darcy. It was a 
rational scheme, to be sure; but from what the report of their engage- 
ment could originate, Elizabeth was at a loss to imagine; till she recol- 
lected that his being the intimate friend of Bingley, and her being the 
sister of Jane, was enough, at a time when the expectation of one wedding 
made everybody eager for another, to supply the idea. She had not her- 
self forgotten to feel that the marriage of her sister must bring them more 
frequently together. And her neighbours at Lucas Lodge, therefore (for 
through their communication with the Collinses the report, she concluded, 
had reached Lady Catherine), had only set that down as almost certain 
and immediate, which she had looked forward to as possible, at some 
future time. 

In revolving Lady Catherine's expressions, however, she could not help 
feeling some uneasiness as to the possible consequence of her persisting in 
this interference. From what she had said of her resolution to prevent 
their marriage, it occurred to Elizabeth that she must meditate an applica- 
tion to her nephew ; and how he might take a similar representation of the 



448 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

evils attached to a connection with her, she dared not pronounce. She knew 
not the exact degree of his affection for his aunt, or his dependence on her 
judgment, but it was natural to suppose that lie thought much higher of 
her ladyship than she could do ; and it was certain that, in enumerating 
the miseries of a marriage with one whose immediate connections were so 
unequal to his own, his aunt would address him on his weakest side. With 
his notions of dignity, he would probably feel that the arguments which 
to Elizabeth had appeared weak and ridiculous, contained much good 
sense and solid reasoning. 

If he had been wavering before as to what he should do, which had often 
seemed likely, the advice and entreaty of so near a relation might settle 
every doubt, and determine him at once to be as happy as dignity unblem- 
ished could make him. In that case, he would return no more. Lady Cath- 
erine might see him in her way through town, and his engagement to 
Bingley of coming again to Netherfield must give way. 

. "If, therefore, an excuse for not keeping his promise should come to his 
friend within a few days," she added, "I shall know how to understand it. 
I shall then give over every expectation, every wish of his constancy. If he 
is satisfied with only regretting me, when he might have obtained my 
affections and hand, I shall soon cease to regret him at all." 

The surprise of the rest of the family, on hearing who their visitor had 
been, was very great ; but they obligingly satisfied it with the same kind 
of supposition which had appeased Mrs. Bennet's curiosity; and Eliza- 
beth was spared from much teasing on the subject. 

The next morning, as she was going downstairs, she was met by her 
father, who came out of his library with a letter in his hand. 

"Lizzy," said he, "I was going to look for you; come into my room." 

She followed him thither; and her curiosity to know what he had to 
tell her was heightened by the supposition of its being in some manner 
connected with the letter he held. It suddenly struck her that it might be 
from Lady Catherine ; and she anticipated with dismay all the consequent 
explanations. 

She followed her father to the fireplace, and they both sat down. He 
then said : 

"I have received a letter this morning that has astonished me exceed- 
ingly. As it principally concerns yourself, you ought to know its contents. 
I did not know before that I had two daughters on the brink of matri- 
mony. Let me congratulate you on a very important conquest." 

The colour now rushed into Elizabeth's cheeks in the instantaneous 
conviction of its being a letter from the nephew, instead of the aunt ; and 
she was undetermined whether most to be pleased that he explained him- 
self at all or offended that his letter was not rather addressed to herself; 
when her father continued: 

"You look conscious. Young ladies have great penetration in such 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 449 

matters as these! but I think I may defy even your sagacity to discover 
the name of your admirer. This letter is from Mr. Collins." 

"From Mr. Collins! and what can he have to say?" 

"Something very much to the purpose, of course. He begins with con- 
gratulations on the approaching nuptials of my eldest daughter, of which 
it seems he has been told, by some of the good-natured, gossiping Lucases. 
I shall not sport with your impatience by reading what he says on that 
point. What relates to yourself is as follows: 'Having thus offered you 
the sincere congratulations of Mrs. Collins and myself on this happy 
event, let me now add a short hint on the subject of another; for which we 
have been advertised by the same authority. Your daughter Elizabeth, it 
is presumed, will not long bear the name of Bennet, after her elder sister 
has resigned it, and the chosen partner of her fate may be reasonably 
looked up to as one of the most illustrious personages in this land.' 

"Can you possibly guess, Lizzy, who is meant by this? ' This young 
gentleman is blessed, in a peculiar way, with everything the heart of 
mortal can most desire, splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive 
patronage. Yet, in spite of all these temptations, let me warn my cousin 
Elizabeth, and yourself, of what evils you may incur by a precipitate 
closure with this gentleman's proposals, which, of course, you will be 
inclined to take immediate advantage of.' 

"Have you any idea, Lizzy, who this gentleman is? But now it comes 
out: 

" 'My motive for cautioning you is as follows: we have reason to 
imagine that his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, does not look on the 
match with a friendly eye.' 

"Mr. Darcy, you see, is the man ! Now, Lizzy, I think I have surprised 
you. Could he or the Lucases have pitched on any man, within the circle 
of our acquaintances, whose name would have given the lie more effectu- 
ally to what they related? Mr. Darcy, who never looks at any woman but 
to see a blemish, and who probably never looked at you in his life? It is 
admirable!" 

Elizabeth tried to join in her father's pleasantry, but could only force 
one most reluctant smile. Never had his wit been directed in a manner 
so little agreeable to her. 

"Are you not diverted?" 

"Oh! yes. Pray read on." 

" 'After mentioning the likelihood of this marriage to her ladyship last 
night, she immediately, with her usual condescension, expressed what she 
felt on the occasion ; when it became apparent, that on the score of some 
family objections on the part of my cousin, she would never give her 
consent to what she termed so disgraceful a match. I thought it my duty 
to give the speediest intelligence of this to my cousin, that she and her 
noble admirer may be aware of what they are about, and not run hastily 
into a marriage which has not been properly sanctioned.' Mr. Collins, 
moreover adds, 'I am truly rejoiced that my cousin Lydia's sad business 



450 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

has been so well hushed up, and am only concerned that their living 
together before the marriage took place should be so generally known. 
I must not, however, neglect the duties of my station, or refrain from 
declaring my amazement, at hearing that you received the young couple 
into your house as soon as they were married. It was an encouragement 
of vice; and had I been the rector of Longbourn, I should very strenuously 
have opposed it. You ought certainly to forgive them, as a Christian, but 
never to admit them in your sight, or allow their names to be mentioned 
in your hearing.' That is his notion of Christian forgiveness! The rest of 
his letter is only about his dear Charlotte's situation, and his expectation 
of a young olive-branch. But, Lizzy, you look as if you did not enjoy it. 
You are not going to be missish, I hope, and pretend to be affronted at an 
idle report. For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and 
laugh at them in our turn?" 

"Oh! " cried Elizabeth, "I am excessively diverted. But it is so strange! " 
"Yes that is what makes it amusing. Had they fixed on any other man, 
it would have been nothing; but his perfect indifference, and your pointed 
dislike, make it so delightfully absurd! Much as I abominate writing, 
I would not give up Mr. Collins's correspondence for any consideration. 
Nay, when I read a letter of his, I cannot help giving him the preference 
even over Wickham, much as I value the impudence and hypocrisy of 
my son-in-law. And pray, Lizzy, what said Lady Catherine about this 
report? Did she call to refuse her consent?" 

To this question his daughter replied only with a laugh ; and as it had 
been asked without the least suspicion, she was not distressed by his 
repeating it. Elizabeth had never been more at a loss to make her feelings 
appear what they were not. It was necessary to laugh, when she would 
rather have cried. Her father had most cruelly mortified her by what he 
said of Mr. Darcy's indifference, and she could do nothing but wonder 
at such a want of penetration, or fear that, perhaps, instead, of his seeing 
too little, she might have fancied too much. 



Chapter 58 

INSTEAD of receiving any such letter of excuse from his friend, as 
Elizabeth half expected Mr. Bingley to do, he was able to bring Darcy 
with him to Longbourn before many days had passed after Lady Cath- 
erine's visit. The gentlemen arrived early; and before Mrs. Bennet had 
time to tell him of their having seen his aunt, of which her daughter sat 
in momentary dread, Bingley, who wanted to be alone with Jane, proposed 
their all walking out. It was agreed to. Mrs. Bennet was not in the habit 
of walking. Mary could never spare time, but the remaining five set off 
together. Bingley and Jane, however, soon allowed the others to outstrip 
t^hem. They lagged behind, while Elizabeth, Kitty, and Darcy were to 
entertain each other. Very little was said by either: Kitty was too much 



PRIDE AND PREJUDICE 451 

afraid of him to talk ; Elizabeth was secretly forming a desperate resolu- 
tion ; and, perhaps he might be doing the same. 

They walked towards the Lucases, because Kitty wished to call upon 
Maria ; and as Elizabeth saw no occasion for making it a general concern, 
when Kitty left them she went boldly on with him alone. Now was the 
moment for her resolution to be executed; and, while her courage was 
high, she immediately said: 

"Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and for the sake of giving 
relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours. 
I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my 
poor sister. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to 
acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest 
of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express." 

"I am sorry, exceedingly sorry," replied Darcy, in a tone of surprise 
and emotion, "that you have ever been informed of what may, in a mis- 
taken light, have given you uneasiness, I did not think Mrs. Gardiner was 
so little to be trusted." 

"You must not blame my aunt. Lydia's thoughtlessness first betrayed 
to me that you had been concerned in the matter ; and, of course, I could 
not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again, in 
the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced 
you to take so much trouble and bear so many mortifications, for the sake 
of discovering them." 

"If you will thank me," he replied, "let it be for yourself alone. That 
the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other induce- 
ments which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe 
me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you." 

Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, 
her companion added, "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your 
feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections 
and wishes are unchanged ; but one word from you will silence me on this 
subject for ever." 

Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety 
of his situation, now forced herself to speak ; and immediately, though not 
very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone 
so material a change since the period to which he alluded, as to make her 
receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances. The happiness 
which this reply produced was such as he had probably never felt before, 
and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a 
man violently in love can be supposed to do. Had Elizabeth been able to 
encounter his eyes, she might have seen how well the expression of heart- 
felt delight diffused over his face became him ; but, though she could not 
look, she could listen, and he told her of feelings which, in proving of what 
importance she was to him, made his affection every moment more 
valuable. 

They walked on, without knowing in what direction. There was too 



452 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

much to be thought, and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects 
She soon learnt that they were indebted for their present good under- 
standing to the efforts of his aunt, who did call on him in her return 
through London, and there relate her journey to Longbourn, its motive, 
and the substance of her conversation with Elizabeth ; dwelling emphati- 
cally on every expression of the latter which, in her ladyship's apprehen- 
sion, peculiarly denoted her perverseness and assurance, in the belief 
that such a relation must assist her endeavours to obtain that promise 
from her nephew which she had refused to give. But unluckily for her 
ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrarywise. 

"It taught me to hope," said he, "as I had scarcely ever allowed myself 
to hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain, that had 
you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have 
acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly." 

Elizabeth coloured and laughed as she replied, "Yes, you know enough 
of my frankness to believe me capable of that. After abusing you so abom- 
inably to your face, I could have no scruple in abusing you to all your 
relations." 

"What did you say of me that I did not deserve? For, though your 
accusations were ill-founded, formed on mistaken premises, my behaviour 
to you at the time had merited the severest reproof. It was unpardonable. 
I cannot think of it without abhorrence." 

"We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that 
evening," said Elizabeth; "the conduct of neither, if strictly examined, 
will be irreproachable. But since then we have both, I hope, improved 
in civility." 

"I cannot be so easily reconciled to myself. The recollection of what I 
then said of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole 
of it is now, and has been many months, inexpressibly painful to me. 
Your reproof, so well applied, I shall never forget: 'Had you behaved in a 
more gentlemanlike manner.' Those were your words. You know not, you 
can scarcely conceive, how they have tortured me; though it was some 
time, I confess, before I was reasonable enough to allow their justice." 

"I was certainly very far from expecting them to make so strong an im- 
pression. I had not the smallest idea of their being ever felt in such a way." 

"I can easily believe it. You thought me then devoid of every proper 
feeling; I am sure you did. The turn of your countenance I shall never 
forget, as you said that I could not have addressed you in any possible 
way that would induce you to accept me." 

"Oh! do not repeat what I then said. These recollections will not do at 
all. I assurt you, that I have long been most heartily ashamed of it." 

Darcy mentioned his letter. "Did it," said he, "did it soon make you 
think better of me? Did you. on reading it, give any credit to its con- 
tents?" 

She explained what its effect on her had been, and how gradually all 
her former prejudices had been removed. 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 45i 

"I knew," said he, "that what I wrote must give you pain ; but it was 
necessary. I hope you have destroyed the letter. There was one part, 
especially the opening of it, which I should dread your having the power 
of reading again. I can remember some expressions which might justly 
make you hate me." 

"The letter shall certainly be burnt, if you believe it essential to the 
preservation of my regard ; but, though we have both reason to think my 
opinions not entirely unalterable, they are not, I hope, quite so easily 
changed as that implies." 

"When I wrote that letter," replied Darcy, " I believed myself perfectly 
calm and cool ; but I am since convinced that it was written in a dreadful 
bitterness of spirit." 

"The letter, perhaps, began in bitterness; but it did not end so. The 
adieu is charity itself. But think no more of the letter. The feelings of the 
person who wrote and the person who received it are now so widely dif- 
ferent from what they were then, that every unpleasant circumstance 
attending it ought to be forgotten. You must learn some of my philosophy. 
Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure." 

"I cannot give you credit for any philosophy of the kind. Your retro- 
spections must be so totally void of reproach, that the contentment arising 
from them is not of philosophy, but, what is much better, of ignorance. 
But with me it is not so. Painful recollections will intrude, which cannot, 
which ought not, to be repelled. I have been a selfish being all my life, in 
practice, though not in principle. As a child, I was taught what was right; 
but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, 
but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately, an only son 
(for many years an only child) , I was spoiled by my parents, who, though 
good themselves (my father particularly, all that was benevolent and 
amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and over- 
bearing tocare for none beyond my own family circle, to think meanly 
of all the rest of the world, to wish at least to think meanly of their sense 
and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight-and- 
twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest 
Elizabeth! What do I not owe you? You taught me a lesson, hard indeed 
at first, but most advantageous. By you I was properly humbled. I came 
to you without a doubt of my reception. You snowed me how insufficient 
were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased." 

"Had you then persuaded yourself that I should?" 

"Indeed I had. What will you think of my vanity? I believed you to be 
wishing, expecting my addresses." 

"My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally, I assure 
you. I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me 
wrong. How you must have hated me after that evening! " 

"Hate you! I was angry, perhaps, at first, but my anger soon began to 
take a proper direction." 



454 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

"I am almost afraid of asking what you thought of me when we met at 
Pemberley. You blamed me for coming?" 

"No, indeed, I felt nothing but surprise." 

"Your surprise could not be greater than mine in being noticed by you. 
My conscience told me that I deserved no extraordinary politeness, and 
I confess that I did not expect to receive more than my due." 

"My object then" replied Darcy, "was to show you, by every civility 
in my power, that I hoped to obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill- 
opinion by letting you see that your reproofs had been attended to. How 
soon any other wishes introduced themselves I can hardly tell, but I 
believe in about half-an-hour after I had seen you." 

He then told her of Georgiana's delight in her acquaintance, and of her 
disappointment at its sudden interruption ; which naturally leading to the 
cause of that interruption, she soon learnt that his resolution of following 
her from Derbyshire in quest of her sister had been formed before he 
quitted the inn, and that his gravity and thoughtfulness there had arisen 
from no other struggles than what such a purpose must comprehend. 

She expressed her gratitude again ; but it was too painful a subject to 
each to be dwelt on farther. 

After walking several miles in a leisurely manner, and too busy to 
know anything about it, they found at last, on examining their watches, 
that it was time to be at home. 

"What could have become of Mr. Bingley and Jane!" was a wonder 
which introduced the discussion of their affairs. Darcy was delighted with 
their engagement; his friend had given him the earliest information of it. 

"I must ask whether you were surprised?" said Elizabeth. 

"Not at all. When I went away, I felt that it would soon happen." 

"That is to say, you had given your permission. I guessed as much." 

And though he exclaimed at the term, she found that it had been pretty 
nuch the case. 

"On the evening before my going to London," said he, "I made a con- 
to him which I believe I ought to have made long ago. I told 
him of all that had occurred to make my former interference in his affairs 
absurd and impertinent. His surprise was great. He had never had the 
slightest suspicion. I told him, moreover, that I believed myself mistaken 
in supposing as I had done, that your sister was indifferent to him; and as 
I could easily perceive that his attachment to her was unabated, I felt no 
doubt of their happiness together." 

Elizabeth could not help smiling at his easy manner of directing his 
friend. 

"Did you speak from your own observation," said she, "when you told 
him that my sister loved him or merely from my information last spring?" 

"From the former. I had narrowly observed her during the two visits 
which I had lately made her here, and I was convinced of her affection." 

"And your assurance of it, I suppose, carried immediate conviction 
to him." 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 455 

"It did. Bingley is most unaffectedly modest. His diffidence had pre- 
vented his depending on his own judgment in so anxious a case, but his 
reliance on mine made everything easy. I was obliged to confess one thing 
which for a time, and not unjustly, offended him. I could not allow myself 
to conceal that your sister had been in town three months last winter 
that I had known it, and purposely kept it from him. He was angry. But 
his anger, I am persuaded, lasted no longer than he remained in any doubt 
of your sister's sentiments. He has heartily forgiven me now." 

Elizabeth longed to observe that Mr. Bingley had been a most delight- 
ful friend so easily guided, that his worth was invaluable; but she 
checked herself. She remembered that he had yet to learn to be laughed at, 
and it was rather too early to begin. In anticipating the happiness of 
Bingley, which of course was to be inferior only to his own, he continued 
the conversation till they reached the house. In the hall they parted. 



Chapter 59 

"MY dear Lizzy, where can you have been walking to?" was a question 
which Elizabeth received from Jane as soon as she entered the room, and 
from all the others when they sat down to table. She had only to say in 
reply, that they had wandered about till she was beyond her own knowl- 
edge. She coloured as she spoke; but neither that, nor anything else, 
awakened a suspicion of the truth. 

The evening passed quietly, unmarked by anything extraordinary. The 
acknowledged lovers talked and laughed; the unacknowledged were silent. 
Darcy was not of a disposition in which happiness overflows in mirth ; and 
Elizabeth, agitated and confused, rather knew that she was happy, than 
felt herselt to be so ; for, besides the immediate embarrassment, there were 
other evils before her. She anticipated what would be felt in the family 
when her situation became known ; she was aware that no one liked him 
but Jane, and even feared that with the others it was a dislike which not 
all his fortune and consequence might do away. 

At night she opened her heart to Jane. Though suspicion was very far 
from Miss Bennet's general habits, she was absolutely incredulous here. 

"You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be! engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, 
no, you shall not deceive me. I know it to be impossible." 

"This is a wretched beginning indeed ! My sole dependence was on you ; 
and I am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I 
am in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we 
are engaged." , 

Jane looked at her doubtingly. "Oh, Lizzy! it cannot be. I know how 
much you dislike him." 

"You know nothing of the matter. That is all to be forgot. Perhaps I 
did not always love him so well as I do now. But in such cases as these a 



4S 6 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever remember 
it myself." 

Miss Bennet still looked all amazement. Elizabeth again, and more 
seriously, assured her of its truth. 

"Good Heaven! can it be really so? Yet now I must believe you," cried 
Jane. "My dear, dear Lizzy, I would I do congratulate you but are you 
certain forgive the question are you quite certain that you can be 
happy with him?" 

"There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already that we 
are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased, Jane? 
Shall you like to have such a brother?" 

"Very, very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more 
delight. But we considered it, we talked of it as impossible. And do you 
really love him quite well enough? Oh, Lizzy! do anything rather than 
marry without affection. Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought 
to do?" 

"Oh, yes! You will only think I feel more than I ought to do, when I 
tell you all." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Why, I must confess that I love him better than I do Bingley. I am 
afraid you will be angry." 

"My dearest sister, now be, be serious. I want to talk very seriously. Let 
me know everything that I am to know, without delay. Will you tell me 
how long you have loved him?" 

"It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began. 
But I believe I must date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds at 
Pemberley." 

Another entreaty that she would be serious, however, produced the 
desired effect, and she soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances of 
attachment. When convinced on that article, Miss Bennet had nothing 
further to wish. 

"Now I am quite happy," said she, "for you will be as happy as myself. 
I always had a value for him. \Vere it for nothing but his love of you, 
must always have esteemed him; but now, as Bingley's friend and your 
husband, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. But, 
Lizzy, you have been very sly, very reserved with me. How little did you 
tell me of what passed at Pemberley and Lambton! I owe all that I know 
of it to another, not to you." 

Elizabeth told her the motives of her secrecy. She had been unwilling to 
mention Bingley; and the unsettled state of her own feelings had made 
her equally avoid the name of his friend. But now she would no longer COB 
ceal from her his share in Lydia's marriage. All was acknowledged, and 
half the night spent in conversation. 

"Good gracious! " cried Mrs. Bennet, as she stood at a window the next 
morning, "if that disagreeable Mr. Darcy is not coming here again with 



PRIDE AND PREJUDICE 457 

our dear Bingley! What can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always 
coming here? I had no notion but he would go a-shooting, or something or 
other, and not disturb us with his company. What shall we do with him? 
Lizzy, you must walk out with him again, that he may not be in Bingley's 
way." 

Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at so convenient a proposal, yet 
was really vexed that her mother should be always giving him such an 
epithet. 

As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at her so expressively, and 
shook hands with such warmth, as left no doubt of his good information ; 
and he soon afterwards said aloud, "Mrs. Bennet, have you no more lanes 
hereabouts in which|Lizzy may lose her away again to-day?" 

"I advise Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty," said Mrs. Bennet, "to 
walk to Oakham Mount this morning. It is a :.ice long walk, and Mr. 
Darcy has never seen the view." 

"It may do very well for the others," replied Mr. Bingley; "but I am 
sure it will be too much for Kitty. Won't it, Kitty?" 

Kitty owned that she had rather stay at home. Darcy professed a great 
curiosity to see the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently con- 
sented. As she went upstairs to get ready, Mrs. Bennet followed her. 
saying: 

"I am quite sorry, Lizzy, that you should be forced to have that dis- 
agreeable man all to yourself. But I hope you will not mind: it is all for 
Jane's sake, you know; and there is no occasion for talking to him, except 
just now and then. So do not put yourself to inconvenience." 

During their walk, it was resolved that Mr. Bennet's consent should be 
asked in the course of the evening. Elizabeth reserved to herself the appli- 
cation for her mother's. She could not determine how her mother would 
take it ; sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeur would be 
enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man. But whether she were 
violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it, it was cer- 
tain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit to her 
sense ; and she could no more bear that Mr. Darcy should hear the first 
raptures of her joy than the first vehemence of her disapprobation. 

In the evening, soon after Mr. Bennet withdrew to the library, she saw 
Mr. Darcy rise also and follow him, and her agitation on seeing it was 
extreme. She did not fear her father's opposition, but he was going to be 
made unhappy, and that it should be through her means that she, his 
favourite child, should be distressing him by her choice, should be filling 
him with fears and regrets in disposing of her, was a wretched reflection, 
and she sat in misery till Mr. Darcy appeared again, when, looking at him^ 
she was a little relieved by his smile. In a few minutes he approached the 
table where she was sitting with Kitty, and, while pretending to admire 
her work, said in a whisper, "Go to your father; he wants you in the 
library." She was gone directly. 



458 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

Her father was walking about the room, looking grave and anxious. 
"Lizzy," said he, "what are you doing? Are you out of your senses, to be 
accepting this man? Have not you always hated him?" 

How earnestly did she then wish that her former opinions had been 
more reasonable, her expressions more moderate! It would have spared 
her from explanations and professions which it was exceedingly awkward 
to give; but they were now necessary, and she assured him, with some 
confusion, of her attachment to Mr. Darcy. 

"Or, in other words, you are determined to have him. He is rich, to be 
sure, and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than Jane, 
But will they make you happy?" 

"Have you any other objection/' said Elizabeth, "than your belief of 
my indifference?" 

"None at all. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; 
but this would be nothing, if you really liked him." 

"I do, I do like him," she replied, with tears in her eyes; "I love him. 
Indeed, he has no improper pride. He is perfectly amiable. You do not 
know what he really is ; then pray do not pain me by speaking o f him in 
such terms." 

"Lizzy," said her father, "I have given him my consent. He is the kind 
of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse anything which he 
condescended to ask. I now give it to you, if you are resolved on having 
him. But let me advise you to think better of it. I know your disposition, 
Lizzy. I know that you could be neither happy nor respectable unless you 
truly esteemed your husband unless you looked up to him as a superior. 
Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger in an unequal 
marriage. You could scarcely escape discredit and misery. My child, let 
me not have the grief of seeing you, unable to respect your partner in life. 
You know not what you are about." 

Elizabeth, still more affected, was earnest and solemn in her reply ; and 
at length, by repeated assurances that Mr. Darcy was really the object 
of her choice, by explaining the gradual change which her estimation of 
him had undergone, relating her absolute certainty that his affection was 
not the work of a day, but had stood the test of many months' suspense, 
and enumerating with energy all his good qualities, she did conquer her 
father's incredulity, and reconcile him to the match. 

"Well, my dear," said he, when she ceased speaking, "I have no more 
to say. If this be the case, he deserves you. I could not have parted with 
you, my Lizzy, to any one less worthy." To complete the favourable im- 
pression, she then told him what Mr. Darcy had voluntarily done for 
Lydia. He heard her with astonishment. 

"This is an evening of wonders, indeed! And so, Darcy did everything 
made up the match, gave the money, paid the fellow's debts, and got 
him his commission ! So much the better. It will save me^a world of trouble 
and economy. Had it been your uncle's doing, Lmust and would have paid 
him; but these violent young lovers carry everything their own way. I 



PRIDE AND PREJUDICE 459 

shall offer to pay him to-morrow: he will rant and storm about his love 
for you, and there will be an end of the matter." He then recollected her 
embarrassment a few days before, on his reading Mr. Collins's letter ; and 
after laughing at her some time, allowed her at last to go, saying, as she 
quitted the room, "If any young men come for Mary or Kitty, send them 
in, for I am quite at leisure." 

Elizabeth's mind was now relieved from a very heavy weight, and, after 
half-an-hour's quiet reflection in her own room, she was able to join the 
others with tolerable composure. Everything was too recent for gaiety, 
but the evening passed tranquilly away; there was no longer anything 
material to be dreaded, and the comfort of ease and familiarity would 
come in time. 

When her mother went up to her dressing-room at night she followed 
her, and made the important communication. Its effect was most extraor- 
dinary; for, on first hearing it, Mrs. Bennet sat quite still, and unable to 
utter a syllable. Nor was it under many, many minutes, that she could 
comprehend what she heard, though not in general backward to credit 
what was for the advantage of her family, or that came in the shape of 
a lover to any of them. She began at length to recover, to fidget about in 
her chair, get up, sit down again, wonder, and bless herself. 

"Good gracious! Lord bless me! Only think! Dear me! Mr. Darcy! 
Who would have thought it? And is it really true? Oh, my sweetest Lizzy \ 
How rich and how great you will be ! What pin-money, what jewels, what 
carriages you will have! Janes's is nothing to it nothing at all. I am so 
pleased so happy! Such a charming man! So handsome! So tall! Oh, 
my dear Lizzy ! Pray apologise for my having disliked him so much before. 
I hope he will overlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy I A house in town ! Everything 
that is charming! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh, 
Lord! what will become of me? I shall go distracted." 

This was enough to prove that her approbation need not be doubted ; 
and Elizabeth, rejoicing that such an effusion was heard only by herself, 
soon went away. But before she had been three minutes in her own room, 
her mother followed her. 

"My dearest child," she cried, "I can think of nothing else! Ten thou- 
sand a year, and very likely more ! 'Tis as good as a lord ! And a special 
license! You must and shall be married by a special license! But, my 
dearest love, tell me what dish Mr. Darcy is particularly fond of, that I 
may have it to-morrow." 

This was a sad omen of what her mother's behaviour to the gentleman 
himself might be ; and Elizabeth found, that though in the certain posses- 
sion of his warmest affection, and secure of her relations' consent, there 
was still something to be wished for. But the morrow passed off much 
better than she expected; for Mrs. Bennet luckily stood in such awe of 
her intended son-in-law that she ventured not to speak to him, unless it 
was in her power to offer him any attention, to mark her deference for 
his opinion. 



460 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

Elizabeth had the satisfaction of seeing her father taking pains to get 
acquainted with him ; and Mr. Bennet soon assured her that he was rising 
every hour in his esteem. 

"I admire all my sons-in-law highly," said he. "Wickham, perhaps, is 
my favourite; but I think I shall like your husband quite as well as 
Jane's." 

Chapter 60 

ELIZABETH'S spirits soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr. 
Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. "How could 
you begin?" said she. "I can comprehend your going on charmingly, 
when you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in "the 
first place?" 

"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the ^7ords, which 
laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew 
that I had begun." 

"My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners my 
behaviour to you was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never 
spoke to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now, be 
sincere; did you admire me for my impertinence?" 

"For the liveliness of your mind, I did." 

"You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less. 
The fact is, that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious atten- 
tion. You were disgusted with the women who were always speaking and 
looking and thinking for your approbation alone. I roused and interested 
you, because I was so unlike them. Had you not been really amiable, you 
would have hated me for it ; but, in spite of the pains you took to disguise 
yourself, your feelings were always noble and just; and, in your heart, 
you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously courted you. 
There I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it ; and really, all 
things considered, I begin to think it perfectly reasonable. To be sure, 
you know no actual good of me but nobody thinks of that when they 
fall in love." 

"Was there no good in your affectionate behaviour to Jane, while she 
was ill at Netherfield?" 

"Dearest Jane! Who could have done less for her? But make a virtue 
of it by all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you 
are to exaggerate them as much as possible ; and, in return, it belongs to 
me to find occasions for teasing and quarrelling with you as often as may 
be ; and I shall begin directly, by asking you what made you so unwilling 
to come to the point at last? What made you so shy of me when you first 
called, and afterwards dined here? Why, especially, when you called, did 
you look as if you did not care about me?" 

"Because you were grave and silent, and gave me no encouragement." 

"But I was embarrassed." 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 461 

"And so was I."' 

"You might have talked to me more when you came to dinner." 

"A man who had felt less, might/' 

"How unlucky that you should have a reasonable answer to give, and 
that I should be so reasonable as to admit. But I wonder how long you 
would have gone on if you had been left to yourself ! I wonder when you 
would have spoken, if I had not asked you! My resolution of thanking 
you for your kindness to Lydia had certainly great effect too much, I am 
afraid; for what becomes of the moral, if our comfort springs from a 
breach of promise? For I ought not to have mentioned the subject. This 
will never do." 

"You need not distress yourself. The moral will be perfectly fair. Lady 
Catherine's unjustifiable endeavours to separate us were the means of 
removing all my doubts. I am not indebted for my present happiness to 
your eager desire of expressing your gratitude. I was not in a humour to 
wait for an opening of yours. My aunt's intelligence had given me hope, 
and I was determined at once to know everything." 

"Lady Catherine has been of infinite use which ought to make her 
happy, for she loves to be of use. But tell me, what did you come down 
to Netherfield for? Was it merely to ride to Longbourn, and be embar- 
rassed or had you intended any more serious consequences?" 

"My real purpose was to see you, and to judge, if I could, whether I 
might ever hope to make you love me. My avowed one, or what I avowed 
to myself, was to see whether your sister was still partial to Bingley, and, 
if she were, to make the confession to him which I have since made." 

"Shall you ever have courage to announce to Lady Catherine what is 
to befall her?" 

"I am more likely to want time than courage, Elizabeth. But it ought 
to be done; and if you will give me a sheet of paper, it shall be done 
directly. " 

"And if I had not a letter to write myself, I might sit by you, and 
admire the evenness of your writing, as another young lady once did, 
But I have an aunt, too, who must not be longer neglected." 

From an unwillingness to confess how much her intimacy with Mr. 
Darcy had been overrated, Elizabeth had never yet answered Mrs. 
Gardiner's long letter, but now, having that to communicate which she 
knew would be most welcome, she was almost ashamed to find that her 
uncle and aunt had already lost three days of happiness, and immediately 
wrote as follows: 

"I would have thanked you before, my dear aunt, as I ought to have 
done, for your long, kind, satisfactory detail of particulars; but, to say 
the truth, I was too cross to write. You supposed more than really existed. 
But now suppose as much as you choose; give a loose rein to your fancy, 
indulge your imagination in every possible flight which the subject will 
afford, and unless you believe me actually married, you cannot greatly 



462 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

err. You must write again very soon, and praise him a great deal more 
than you did in your last. I thank you, again and again, for not going to 
the Lakes. How could I be so silly as to wish it ! Your idea of the ponies is 
delightful. We will go round the Park every day. I am the happiest crea- 
ture in the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but no one 
with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles. I laugh. 
Mr. Darcy sends you all the love in the world that can be spared from 
me. You are all to come to Pemberley at Christmas. Yours, etc." 

Mr. Darcy's letter to Lady Catherine was in a different style, and still 
different from either was what Mr. Bennet sent to Mr. Collins, in reply 
to his last. 

'DEAR SIR, 

"I must trouble you once more for congratulations. Elizabeth will soon 
be the wife of Mr. Darcy. Console Lady Catherine as well as you can. 
But, if I were you, I would stand by the nephew; he has more to give. 
Yours sincerely, etc." 

Miss Bingley's congratulations to her brother on his approaching mar- 
riage were all that was affectionate and insincere. She wrote even to Jane 
on the occasion, to express her delight, and repeat all her former pro- 
fessions of regard. Jane was not deceived, but she was affected, and, 
though feeling no reliance on her, could not help writing her a much 
kinder answer than she knew was deserved. 

The joy which Miss Darcy expressed on receiving similar information 
was as sincere as her brother's in sending it. Four sides of paper were 
insufficient to contain all her delight, and all her earnest desire of being 
loved by her sister. 

Before any answer could arrive from Mr. Collins, or any congratula- 
tions to Elizabeth, from his wife, the Longbourn family heard that the 
Collinses were come themselves to Lucas Lodge. The reason of this sudden 
removal was soon evident. Lady Catherine had been rendered so exceed- 
ingly angry by the contents of her nephew's letter, that Charlotte, really 
rejoicing in the match, was anxious to get away till the storm was blown 
over. At such a moment the arrival of her friend was a sincere pleasure to 
Elizabeth, though in the course of their meetings she must sometimes 
think the pleasure dearly bought, when she saw Mr. Darcy exposed to all 
the parading and obsequious civility of her husband. He bore it, however, 
with admirable calmness. He could even listen to Sir William Lucas, when 
he complimented him on carrying away the brightest jewel of the country, 
and expressed his hopes of their all meeting frequently at St. James's with 
very decent composure. If he did shrug his shoulders, it was not till Sir 
William was out of sight. 

Mrs. Philips's vulgarity was another, and, perhaps, a greater tax on his 
forbearance; and though Mrs. Philips, as well as her sister, stood in too 



PRIDEANDPREJUDICE 463 

much awe of him to speak with the familiarity which Bingley's good 
humour encouraged, yet, whenever she did speak, she must be vulgar. 
Nor was her respect for him, though it made her more quiet, at all likely 
to make her more elegant. Elizabeth did all she could to shield him from 
the frequent notice of either, and was ever anxious to keep him to herself, 
and to those of her family with whom he might converse without morti- 
fication ; and though the uncomfortable feelings arising from all this took 
from the season of courtship much of its pleasure, it added to the hope of 
the future; and she looked forward with delight to the time when they 
should be removed from society so little pleasing to either, to all the com- 
fort and elegance of their family party at Pemberley. 



Chapter 61 

HAPPY for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet 
got rid of her two most deserving daughters. With what delighted pride 
she afterwards visited Mrs. Bingley, and talked of Mrs. Darcy, may be 
guessed. I wish I could say, for the sake of her family, that the accom- 
plishment of her earnest desire in the establishment of so many of her 
children produced so happy an effect as to make her a sensible, amiable, 
well-informed woman for the rest of her life; though, perhaps, it was 
lucky for her husband, who might not have relished domestic felicity in 
so unusual a form, that she still was occasionally nervous, and invariably 
silly. 

Mr. Bennet missed his second daughter exceedingly; his affection for 
her drew him of tener from home than anything else could do. He delighted 
in going to Pemberley, especially when he was least expected. 

Mr. Bingley and Jane remained at Netherfield only a twelvemonth. So 
near a vicinity to her mother and Meryton relations was not desirable 
even to his easy temper, or her affectionate heart. The darling wish of his 
sisters was then gratified ; he bought an estate in a neighbouring county to 
Derbyshire; and Jane and Elizabeth, in addition to every other source 
of happiness, were within thirty miles of each other. 

Kitty, to her very material advantage, spent the chief of her time with 
her two elder sisters. In society so superior to what she had generally 
known, her improvement was great. She was not of so ungovernable a 
temper as Lydia ; and, removed from the influence of Lydia's example, she 
became, by proper attention and management, less irritable, less ignorant, 
and less insipid. From the further disadvantage of Lydia's society she was 
of course carefully kept ; and though Mrs. Wickham frequently invited 
her to come and stay with her, with the promise of balls and young men, 
her father would never consent to her going. 

Mary was the only daughter who remained at home ; and she was neces- 
sarily drawn from the pursuit of accomplishments by Mrs. Bennet's being 
quite unable to sit alone. Mary was obliged co mix more with the world, 



464 THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN 

but she could still moralise over every morning visit ; and as she was no 
longer mortified by comparisons between her sisters' beauty and her own, 
it was suspected by her father that she submitted to the change without 
much reluctance. 

As for Wickham and Lydia, their characters suffered no revolution from 
the marriage of her sisters. He bore with philosophy the conviction that 
Elizabeth must now become acquainted with whatever of his ingratitude 
and falsehood had before been unknown to her, and, in spite of everything, 
was not wholly without hope that Darcy might yet be prevailed on to 
make his fortune. The congratulatory letter which Elizabeth received from 
Lydia on her marriage explained to her that, by his wife at least, if not by 
himself, such a hope was cherished. The letter was to this effect: 



DEAR LIZZY, 

"I wish you joy. If you love Mr. Darcy half so well as I do my dear 
Wickham, you must be very happy. It is a great comfort to have you so 
rich, and when you have nothing else to do, I hope you will think of us. 
I am sure Wickham would like a place at court very much, and I do not 
think we shall have quite enough money to live upon without some help. 
Any place would do, of about three or four hundred a year; but, however, 
do not speak to Mr. Darcy about it, if you had rather not. Yours, etc." 

As it happened that Elizabeth had much rather not, she endeavoured in 
her answer to put an end to every entreaty and expectation of the kind. 
Such relief, however, as it was in her power to afford, by the practice of 
what might be called economy in her own private expenses, she frequently 
sent them. It had always been evident to her that such an income as theirs, 
under the direction of two persons so extravagant in their wants, and 
heedless of the future, must be very insufficient to their support; and 
whenever they changed their quarters, either Jane or herself were sure of 
being applied to, for some little assistance towards discharging their bills. 
Their manner of living, even when the restoration of peace dismissed them 
to a home, was unsettled in the extreme. They were always moving from 
place to place in quest of a cheap situation, and always spending more 
than they ought. His affection for her soon sunk into indifference; hers 
lasted a little longer ; and in spite of her youth and her manners, she re- 
tained all the claims to reputation which her marriage had given her. 

Though Darcy could never receive him at Pemberley, yet, for Eliza- 
beth's sake, he assisted him further in his profession. Lydia was occasion- 
ally a visitor there, when her husband was gone to enjoy himself in 
Lcndon or Bath; and with the Bingleys they both of them frequently 
stayed so long, that even Bingley's good humour was overcome, and he 
proceeded so far as to talk of giving them a hint to be gone. 

Miss Bingley was very deeply mortified by Darcy's marriage; but as 
she thought it advisable to retain the right of visiting at Pemberley, she 
dropped all her resentment; was fonder than ever of Georgiana, almost 



PRIDE AND PREJUDICE 465 

as attentive to Darcy as heretofore, and paid off every arrear of civility 
to Elizabeth. 

Pemberley was now Georgiana's home; and the attachment of the 
sisters was exactly what Darcy had hoped to see. They were able to love 
each other, even as well as they intended. Georgiana had the highest 
opinion in the world of Elizabeth ; though at first she often listened with 
an astonishment bordering on alarm at her lively, sportive manner of 
talking to her brother. He, who had always inspired in herself a respect 
which almost overcame her affection, she now saw the object of open 
pleasantry. Her mind received knowledge which had never before fallen 
in her way. By Elizabeth's instructions she began to comprehend that a 
woman may take liberties with her husband, which a brother will not 
allow in a sister more than ten years younger than himself. 

Lady Catherine was extremely indignant on the marriage of hei 
nephew ; and as she gave way to all the genuine frankness of her character, 
in her reply to the letter which announced its arrangement, she sent him 
language so very abusive, especially of Elizabeth, that for some time all 
intercourse was at an end. But at length, by Elizabeth's persuasion, he 
was prevailed on to overlook the offence, and seek a reconciliation ; and, 
after a little further resistance on the part of his aunt, her resentment 
gave way, either to her affection for him, or her curiosity to see how his 
wife conducted herself: and she condescended to wait on them at Pem- 
berley, in spite of that pollution which its woods had received, not merely 
from the presence of such a mistress, but the visits of her uncle and aunt 
from the city. 

With the Gardiners they were always on the most intimate terms. 
Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, really loved them; and they were both ever 
sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringing 
her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them. 



FINIS