APDL Eductation Resources/APDL Eductation Resources.iso/text/authors/austen/pride_prej/P_P_VOL1

Text File | 1994-08-31 | 228.8 KB | 4,426 lines

                 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                       vol. 1

                     chapter 1

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 some one or other of
their daughters.
"My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have
you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?"
Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.
"But it is," returned she; "for Mrs. Long has just been here,
and she told me all about it."
Mr. Bennet made no answer.
"Do not you want to know who has taken it?" cried his wife
impatiently.
" You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it."
This was invitation enough.
"Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that
Netherfield is taken by a young man of large fortune from
the north of England; that he came down on Monday in a
chaise and four to see the place, and was so much delighted
with it that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he
is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his
servants are to be in the house by the end of next week."
"What is his name?"
"Bingley."
"Is he married or single?"
"Oh!  single, my dear, to be sure!  A single man of large
fortune; four or five thousand a year.  What a fine thing for
our girls!
"How so?  how can it affect them?"
"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "how can you be so
tiresome!  You must know that I am thinking of his marrying
one of them."
"Is that his design in settling here?"
"Design!  nonsense, how can you talk so!  But it is very
likely that he may fall in love with one of them, and therefore
you must visit him as soon as he comes."
"I see no occasion for that.  You and the girls may go, or
you may send them by themselves, which perhaps will be still
better, for as you are as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley
might like you the best of the party."
"My dear, you flatter me.  I certainly have had my share of
beauty, but I do not pretend to be any thing 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 establish-
ment 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 which
ever he chuses 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
way?  You take delight in vexing me.  You have no com-
passion on my poor nerves."
"You mistake me, my dear.  I have a high respect for your
nerves.  They are my old friends.  I have heard you mention
them with consideration these twenty years at least."
"Ah!  you do not know what I suffer."
"But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young
men of four thousand a year come into the neighbourhood."
"It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come since
you will not visit them."
"Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty I
will visit them all."
Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts sarcastic
humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three
and twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife under-
stand his character.  Her mind was less difficult to develope.
he was a woman of mean understanding, little information,
and uncertain temper.  When she was discontented she fancied
herself nervous.  The business ofher life was to get her daugh-
ters married; its solace was visiting and news.




                  PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                       vol.1

                     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 trimming a hat, he suddenly
addressed her with,
"I hope Mr. Bingley will like it Lizzy."
"We are not in a way to know what Mr. Bingley likes," said
her mother resentfully, "since we are not to visit."
"But you forget, mama," said Elizabeth, 'that we shall meet
him at the assemblies, and that Mrs. Long has promised to
introduce him "
"I do not believc Mrs. Long will do any such thing.  She
has two neices ofher 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 compassion on my nerves.  You tear them to pieces."
"Kitty has no discretion in her coughs," said her father;
"she times them ill."
"I do not cough for my own amusement," replied Kitty
fretfully.
"When is your next ball to be, Lizzy?""
"To-morrow fortnight."
"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 teazing?"
"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 fortnight.  But if we do not venture, somebody
else will; and after all, Mrs. Long and her neices must stand
their chance; and therefore, as she will think it an act of kind-
ness, if you declinc the office, I will take it on myself."
The girls stared at their father.  Mrs. Bennet said only,
"Nonsense, nonsense!"
"What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation?"
cried he.  "Do you consider the forms of introduction, and the
stress that is laid on them, as nonsense?  I cannot quite agree
with you there.  What say you, Mary?  for you are a young lady
of deep reflection I know, and read great books, and make
extracts."
Mary wished to say something very sensible, but knew
not how.
"While Mary is adjusting her ideas," he 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 acquain-
tance 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
our 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 chuse," said
Mr. Bennet; and, as he spoke, he left the room, fatigued with
the raptures of his wife.
"What an excellent father you have, girls," said she, when
the door was shut.  "I do not know how you will ever make
him amends for his kindness; or me either, for that matter.
At our time of life, it is not so pleasant I can tell you, to be
making new acquaintance every day; but for your sakes, we
would do any thing.  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.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                          vol.1

                       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 oftheir neighbour Lady
Lucas.  Her report was highly favourable.  Sir William had
been delighted with him.  He was quite young, wonderfully
handsome, extremely agreeable, and to crown the whole, he
meant to be at the next assembly with a large party.  Nothing
could be more delightful!  To be fond of dancing 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 married, I shall have nothing to wish for."
In a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Bennet's visit, and
sat about ten minutes with him in his library.  He had enter-
tained hopes of being admitted to a sight of the young ladies,
of whose beauty he had heard much; but he saw only the
father.  The ladies were somewhat more fortunate, for they
had the advantage of ascertaining from an upper window, that
he wore a blue coat and rode a black horse.
An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards dispatched;
and already had Mrs. Bennet planned the courses that were
to do credit to her housekeeping, when an answer arrived
which deferred it all.  Mr. Bingley was obliged to be in town
the following day, and consequently unable to accept the
honour of their invitation, &c.  Mrs. Bennet was quite dis-
concerted.  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 ball
assembly.  The girls grieved over such a large 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 of only five altogether;
Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the oldest, and
another young man.
 Mr. Bingley was good looking and gentlmanlike; he had
a pleasant countenance, and easy, unaffected manners.  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
after his entrance, of his having ten thousand a year.  The
gentleman pronounced him to be a fine figure of a man, the
ladies declared he was much handsomer than Mr. Bingley,
and he was looked at with great admiration for about half the
evening, till his manners gave a disgust which turned the tide
of his popularity; for he was discovered to be proud, to be
above his company, and above being pleased; and not all his
large estate in Derbyshire could then save him from having a
most forbidding, disagreeable countenance, and being un-
worthy to be compared with his friend.
Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the
principal people in the room; he was lively and unreserved,
danced every dance, was angry that the ball closed so early,
and talked of giving one himself at Netherfield.  Such amiable
qualities must speak for themselves.  What a contrast between
him and his friend!  Mr. Darcy danced only once with Mrs.
Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being intro-
duced 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 every body hoped
that he would never come there again.  Amongst the most
violent against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of his
general behaviour, was sharpened into particular resentment,
by his having slighted one of her daughters.
Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of
gentlemen, to sit down for two dances; and during part of
that time, Mr. Darcy had been standing near enough for her
to overhear a conversation between him and Mr. Bingley, who
came from the dance for a few minutes, to press his friend to
join it.
"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance.  I hate to
see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner.  You
had much better dance."
"I certainly shall not.  You know how I detest it, unless I am
particularly acquainted with my partner.  At such an assembly
as this, it would be insupportable.  Your sisters are engaged,
 and there is not another woman in the room, whom it would
not be a punishment to me to stand up with."
"I would not be so fastidious as you are," cried Bingley, "for
a kingdom!  Upon my honour I never met with so many
pleasant girls in my life, as I have this evening; and there are
several of them you see uncommonly pretty."
" You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,"
said Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.
"Oh!  she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld!  But
there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who
is very pretty, and I dare say, very agreeable.  Do let me ask
my 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; and 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 any thing 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 distinguished by his sisters.
Jane was as much gratified by this, as her mother could be,
though in a quieter way.  Elizabeth felt Jane's pleasure.  Mary
had heard herself 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.  Every body 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 enquired who she was, and got introduced,
and asked her for the two next.  Then, the two third he danced
with Miss King, and the two fourth with Maria Lucas, and
the two fifth with Jane again, and the two sixth with Lizzy,
and the Boulanger -- -- "
"If he had had any compassion for me," cried her husband
impatiently, "he would not have danced half so much!  For
God's sake, say no more of his partners.  Oh!  that he had
sprained his ancle in the first dance!"
"Oh!  my dear," continued Mrs. Bennet, "I am quite
delighted with him.  He is so excessively handsome!  and his
sisters are charming women.  I never in my life saw any
thing 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 exaggeration, the shocking rude-
ness of Mr. Darcy.
"But I can assure you," she added, "that Lizzy does not
 lose much by not suiting his fancy; for he is a most dis-
agreeable, 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."



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                      vol.1

                     chapter 4



WHEN Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had
been cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed
to her sister how very much she admired him.
"He is just what a young man ought to be," said she, "sensible,
good 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
an 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?  I did for you.  But that is one great difference
between us.  Compliments always take you by surprise, and
me never.  What could be more natural than his asking you
again?  He could not help seeing that you were about five
times as pretty as every other women 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 any body.  All the world are
good and agreeable in your eyes.  I never heard you speak ill
of a human being in my life."
 "I would wish not to be hasty in censuring any one; but I
always speak what I think."
 "I know you do; and it is that which makes the wonder.
With your good sense, to be honestly blind to the follies
and nonsense of others!  Affectation of candour is common
enough; -- one meets it every where.  But to be candid with-
out ostentation or design -- to take the good of every body's
character and make it still better, and say nothing of the
bad -- belongs to you alone.  And so, you like this man's sisters
too, do you?  Their manners are not equal to his."
"Certainly not; at first.  But they are very pleasing women
when you converse with them.  Miss Bingley is to live with her
 brother and keep his house; and I am much mistaken if we
 shall not find a very charming 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 dis-
 posed 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 where they chose it; but proud
and conceited.  They were rather handsome, had been
educated in one of the first private seminaries in town, had a
fortune of twenty thousand pounds, were in the habit of
spending more than they ought, and of associating with people
 of rank; and were therefore in every respect entitled to think
well of themselves, and meanly of others.  They were of a
 respectable family in the north of 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 an
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 remainder 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 recom-
mendation to look at Netherfield House.  He did look at it and
into it for half an hour, was pleased with the situation and the
principal rooms, satisfied with what the owner said in its
praise, and took it immediately.
Between him and Darcy there was a very, steady, friendship
in spite of a great opposition of character. -- Bingley was
endeared to Darcy by the easiness, openness, ductility of his
temper, though no disposition could offer a greater contrast
to his own, and though with his own he never appeared dis-
satisfied.  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 deficient, 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 sufficiently characteristic.  Bingley had never met with
pleasanter people or prettier girls in his life; every body 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 col-
lection 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 established as a
sweet girl, and their brother felt authorised by such com-
mendation to think of her as he chose.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                       vol.1

                     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 knight-
hood by an address to the King, during his mayoralty.  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 unshackled by business,
occupy himselfsolely 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 every body.  By nature in-
offensive, 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 morn-
ing 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 twicc.  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 listen-
ing to as his friend, is he? -- Poor Eliza! -- to be only just
toterable,"
"I beg you would not put it into Lizzy's head to be vexed
by his ill-treatment; for he is such a disagreeable man that it
would be quite a misfortune to be liked by him.  Mrs. Long
told me last night that he sat close to her for half an hour with-
out 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 Nether-
field, and he could not help answering her; -- but she said he
seemed very angry at being spoke to."
"Miss Bingley told me," said Jane, "that he never speaks
much unless among his intimate acquaintance.  With them he
is remarkably agreeable."
"I do not believe a word of it, my dear.  If he had been
so very agreeable he would have talked to Mrs. Long.  But
I can guess how it was; every body says that he is ate 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 can-
not wonder that so very fine a young man, with family,
fortune, every thing in his favour, should think highly of him-
self.  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 ofus who do not cherish a feel-
ing of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other,
real or imaginary.  Vanity and pride' are different things,
though the words are often used synonimously.  A person may
be proud without being vain.  Pride relates more to our opinion
ofourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us."
"If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy," cried a young Lucas who
came with his sisters, "I should not care how proud I was.
I would keep a pack of foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine
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.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                     vol. 1

                     chapter 6


THE ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Nether-
field.  The visit was returned in due form.  Miss Bennet's
pleasing manners grew on the good will of Mrs. Hurst and
Miss Bingley; and though the mother was found to be intoler-
able 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 treatment of every body, 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 pre-
ference which she had begun to entertain for him from the
first, and was in a way to be very much in love; but she con-
sidered 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 mentioned 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 some-
times 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 shew more affection than
she feels.  Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly; but he
may never do more than like her, if she does not help
him on.
"But she does help him on, as much as her nature will allow.
If I can perceive her regard for him, he must be a simpleton
indeed not to discover it too."
"Remember, Eliza, that he does not know Jane's disposition
as you do."
"But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavour
to conceal it, he must find it out."
"Perhaps he must, if he sees enough of her.  But though
Bingley and Jane meet tolerably often, it is never for many
hours together; and as they always see each other in large
mixed parties, it is impossible that every moment should be
employed in conversing together.  Jane should therefore make
the most of every half hour in which she can command his
attention.  When she is secure of him, there will be leisure for
falling in love as much as she chuses."
"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 diued 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 twelve-month.  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 before-hand, it does not advance their felicity in the
least.  They always contrive to grow sufficiently unlike after-
wards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know
as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom
you are to pass your life."
"You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound.  You
know it is not sound, and that you would never act in this way
yourself."
 Occupied in obsevering Mr. Bingleys'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
endered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression
of her dark eyes.  To this discovery succeeded some others
qually 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 playful-
ess.  Of this she was perfectly unaware; -- to her he was only
the man who made himself agreeable no where, and who had
not thought her handsome enough to dance with.
He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards
conversing with her himself, attended to her conversation
with others, His doing so drew her notice.  It was at Sir
William Lucas's, where a large party were assembled.
"What does Mr. Darcy mean," said she to Charlotte, "by
listening to my conversation with Colonel Forster?"
"That is a question which Mr. Darcy only can answer."
but if he does it any more I shall certainly let him know
that I see what he is about.  He has a very 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 immedi-
ately 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 teazing 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 teazed," 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 any body and every
body! -- 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, how-
ever, she added, "Very well; if it must be so, it must."  And
"ravely glancing at Mr. Darcy, "There is a fine old saying,
which every body here is of course familiar with -- ""Keep
your breath to cool your porridge,"' -- and I shall keep mine
to swell my song."
Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital.
After a song or two, and before she could reply to the entreaties
of several that she would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded
at the instrument by her sister Mary, who having, in conse-
quence of being the only plain one in the family, worked hard
for knowledge and accomplishments, was always impatient
for display.
Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had
given her application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air
and conceited manner, which would have injured a higher
degree of excellence than she had reached.  Elizabeth, easy
and unaffected, had been listened to with much more pleasure
though not 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 conversa-
tion, and was too much engrossed by his own thoughts to
perceive that Sir William Lucas was his neighbour, till Sir
William thus began.
"What a charming amusement for young people this is,
Mr. Darcy! -- There is nothing like dancing after all. -- I con-
sider 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 delight-
fully;' he continued after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the
group; -- "and I doubt not that you are an adept in the science
yourself, Mr. Darcy."
"You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, Sir."
"Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from
the sight.  Do you often dance at St.  James's?"
"Never, sir."
"Do you not think it would be a proper 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
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 notion of doing a very
 gallant thing, and called out to her,
"My dear Miss Eliza, why are not you dancing? -- Mr,
Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you
as a very desirable partner. -- You cannot refuse to dance, I
 am sure, when so much beauty is before you."  And taking her
hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy, who, though
extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she
instantly drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir
William,
"Indeed, Sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. --
I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to
beg for a partner."
Mr. Darcy with grave propriety requested to be allowed
the honour of her hand; but in vain.  Elizabeth was deter-
nined; nor did Sir William at all shake her purpose by his
attempt at persuasion.
"You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel
to deny me the happiness of seeing you; and though this
gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no
objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half hour."
"Mr. Darcy is all politeness," said Elizabeth, smiling.
"He is indeed -- but considering the inducement, my dear
Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance; for who
would object to such a partner?"
 Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away.  Her resistance had
not injured her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her
 with some complacency, when thus accosted by Miss Bingley,
"I can guess the subject of your reverie."
"I should imagine not."
"You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass
many evenings in this manner -- in such society; and indeed
 I am quite of your opinion.  I was never more annoyed!  The
insipidity and yet the noise; the nothingness and yet the self-
importance of all these people! -- What would I give to hear
your strictures on them!"
"Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you.  My mind
was more agreeably engaged.  I have been meditating on the
very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a
pretty woman can bestow."
Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and
desired he would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring
such reflfiections.  Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepidity,
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet!" repeated Miss Bingley.  "I am all
astonishment.  How long has she been such a favourite? -- and
pray when am I to wish you joy?"
"That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask.
A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration
to love, from love to matrimony in a moment, I knew you
would be wishing me joy."
"Nay, if you are so serious about it, I shall consider the
matter as absolutely settled.  You will have a 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 con-
vinced her that all was safe, her wit flowed long.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                     vol. 1

                     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. Phillips, who had been a
lerk to their father, and succeeded him in the business, and a
brother settled in London in a respectable line of trade.
 The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton;
a most convenient distance for the young ladies, who were
usually tempted thither three or four times a week, to pay their
duty to their aunt and to a milliner's shop just over the way.
The two youngest of the family, Catherine and Lydia, were
particularly frequent in these attentions; their minds were
more vacant than their sisters', and when nothing better
offered, a walk to Meryton was necessary to amuse their morn-
ing hours and furnish conversation for the evening; and how-
ever bare of news the country in general might be, they always
contrived to learn some from their aunt.  At present, indeed,
they were well supplied both with news and happiness by the
recent arrival of a militia regiment in the neighbourhood; it
was to remain the whole winter, and Meryton was the head
quarters.
 Their visits to Mrs. Philips were now productive of the most
interesting intelligence.  Every day added something to their
knowledge of the officers' names and connections.  Their
lodgings were not long a secret, and at length they began to
know the officers themselves.  Mr. Philips visited them all,
and this opened to his nieces a source of felicity unknown
before.  They could talk of nothing but officers; and Mr.
Bingley's large fortune, the mention of which gave anima-
tion to their mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed
to the regimentals of an ensign.
After listening one morning to their effusions on this sub-
ject, 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 any body'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.  I had hoped that our sentiments coincided in every
particular, but I must so far differ from you as to think our
two youngest daughters uncommonly foolish "
"My' dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect such girls to
have the sense of their father and mother. -- When they get to
our age I dare say they will not think about officers any more
than we do.  I remember the time when I liked a red coat
myself very well -- and indeed so I do still at my heart; and if
a smart young colonel, with five or six thousand a year should
want one of my girls, I shall not say nay to him; and I thought
.. <colonel Forster looked very becoming the other night at Sir
William's in his regimentals."
"Mama," 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 Nether-
field, and the servant waited for an answer.  Mrs. Bennet's eyes
sparkled with pleasure, and she was eagerly calling out, while
her daughter read,
"Well, Jane, who is it from?  what is it about?  what does he
say?  Well, Jane, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love."
"It is from Miss Bingley," said Jane, and then read it
aloud.
"My dear Friend,
"If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with
Louisa and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other
for the rest of our lives, for a whole day's tete-a-tete between
two women can never end without a quarrel.  Come as
soon as you can on the receipt of this.  My brother and
the gentlemen are to dine with the officers.  Yours ever,
"CAROLINE BINGLEY."
"With the officers!" cried Lydia.  "I wonder my aunt did
not tell us of that."
"Dining out," said Mrs. Bennet, "that is very unlucky."
"Can I have the carriage?" said Jane.
"No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, 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 Meryton; and the Hursts have no horses to theirs."
"I had much rather go in the coach."
"But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, I am
sure.  They are wanted in the farm, Mr. Bennet, are not -
they?"
"They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get
them."
"But if you have got them to day," said Elizabeth, "my
mother's purpose will be answered."
She did at last extort from her father an acknowledg-
ment that the horses were engaged.  Jane was therefore
obliged to go on horseback, and her mother attended her
to the door with many cheerful prognostics of a bad day.
Her hopes were answered; Jane had not been gone long
 before it rained hard.  Her sisters were uneasy for her, but
her mother was delighted.  The rain continued the whole
evening without intermission; Jane certainly could not
come back.
"This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!" said Mrs. Bennet,
more than once, as if the credit of making it rain were all
her own.  Till the next morning, however, she was not aware
of all the felicity of her contrivance.  Breakfast was scarcely
over when a servant from Netherfield brought the following
note for Elizabeth:
"My dearest Lizzy,
"I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose,
is to be imputed to my getting wet through yesterday.  My
kind friends will not hear of my returning home till I am
better.  They insist also on my seeing Mr. Jones -- therefore
do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having been to
me -- and excepting a sore-throat and head-ache there is not
much the matter with me.
"Yours, &c."
"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
is 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
horse-woman, walking was her only alternative.  She declared
her resolution.
"How can you be so silly," cried her mother, "as to think of
such a thing, in all this dirt!  You will not be fit to be seen
when you get there."
"I shall be very fit to see Jane -- which is all I want."
"Is this a hint to me, Lizzy," said her father, "to send for
the horses?"
"No, indeed.  I do not wish to avoid the walk.  The distance
is nothing, when one has a motive; only three miles.  I shall
be back by dinner."
"I admire the activity of your benevolence," observed Mary,
"but every impulse of feeling should be guided by reason;
and, in my opinion, exertion should always be in proportion
to what is required."
"We will go as far as Meryton with you," said Catherine and
Lydia. -- Elizabeth accepted their company, and the three
young ladies set off together.
"If we make haste," said Lydia, as they walked along,
"perhaps we may see something of Captain Carter before
he goes."
In Meryton they parted; the two youngest repaired to the
lodgings of one of the officers' wives, and Elizabeth continued
her walk alone, crossing field after field at a quick pace, jump-
ing over stiles and springing over puddles with impatient
activity, and finding herself at last within view of the house,
with weary ancles, dirty stockings, and a face glowing with
the warmth of exercise.
She was shewn 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 her-
self, 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 enquiries after her sister were not very favourably
answered.  Miss Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very
feverish and not well enough to leave her room.  Elizabeth was
glad to be taken to her immediately; and Jane, who had only
been withheld by the fear of giving alarm or inconvenience,
from expressing in her note how much she longed for such a
visit, was delighted at her entrance.  She was not equal, how-
ever, to much conversation, and when Miss Bingley left them
together, could attempt little beside expressions of gratitude
for the extraordinary kindness she was treated with.  Elizabeth
silently attended her.
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 shewed 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.  Elizabeth did not quit her room
for a moment, nor were the other ladies often absent; the
gentlemen being out, they had in fact nothing to do 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 dis-
patched to Longbourn to acquaint the family with her stay,
and bring back a supply of clothes.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                     vol. 1

                     chapter 8


AT five o'clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half past
six Elizabeth was summoned to dinner.  To the civil enquiries
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 only
 to eat, drink, and play at cards, who when he found her prefer
a plain dish to a ragout, had nothing to say to her.
 When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and
Miss Bingley began abusing her as soon as she was out of the
room.  Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed,
a mixture of pride and impertinence; she had no conversa-
 tion, no stile, 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 couin-
tenance.  Very nonsensical to come at all!  Why must she be
scampering about the country, because her sister had a cold?
" Her hair so untidy, so 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 what-
ever it is, above her ancles in dirt, and alone, quite alone!
what could she mean by it?  It seems to me to shew an abomin-
able sort of conceited independence a most country town
indifference to decorum."
"It shews 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 admira-
tion 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 reaIly
at very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well
settled.  But with such a father and mother, and such low con-
nections, 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 marry-
ing men of any consideration in the world," replied Darcy.
To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisiers
gave it their hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some
time at the expense of their dear friend's vulgar relations.
With a renewal of tenderness, however, they repaired to
her room on leaving the dining-parlour, and sat with her till
su moned to coffee.  She was still very poorly, and Elizabeth
would not quit her at all, till late in the evening, when she
had the comfort of seeing her asleep, and when it appeared
to her rather right than pleasant that she should go down
stairs herself.  On entering the 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 imme-
diately 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 neighbourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model.
There is not a finer county in England than Derbyshire."
"With all my heart; I will buy Pemberley itself if Darcy
will sell it."
"I am talking of possibilities, Charles."
"Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible
to get Pemberley by purchase than by 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 her-
self 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 man-
ners.  and so extremely accomplished for her age!  Her per-
formance on the piano-forte 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
skreens and net purses.  I scarcely know any one who cannot
do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken
of for the first time, without being informed that she was very
accomplished."
"Your list of the common extent of accomplishments," said
Darcy, "has too much truth.  The word is applied to many a
woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse,
or covering a skreen.  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 women."
"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
knowledgc of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the
modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this,
she must possess a certain something in her air and manner
of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions,
or the word will be but half deserved."
"All this she must possess," added Darcy, "and to all this
she must yet add something more substantial, in the improve-
ment of her mind by extensive reading."
 "I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six
accomplished women.  I rather wonder now at your know-
ing any."
"Are you so severe upon your own sex, as to doubt the
possibility of all this?"
"I never saw such a woman, I never saw such capacity, and
taste, and application, and elegance, as you describe, united."
Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the
injustice of her implied doubt, and were both protesting that
they knew many women who answered this description, when
Mr. Hurst called them to order, with bitter complaints of their
inattention to what was going forward.  As all conversation was
thereby at an end, Elizabeth soon afterwards left the room.
"Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, when the door was
closed on her, "is one of those young ladies who seek to recom-
mend 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 device, a very mean art."
"Undoubtedly," replied Darcy, to whom this remark was
chiefly addressed, "there is meanness in all the arts which
ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation.  What-
ever bears affinity to cunning is despicable."
Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as
to continue the subject.
Elizabeth joined them again only to say that her sister was
worse, and that she could not leave her.  Bingley urged Mr.
Jones's being sent for immediately; while his sisters con-
vinced that no country advice could be ofany service, recom-
mended an express to town for one of the most eminent
physicians.  This, she would not hear of; but she was not so
unwilling to comply with thiers brothers 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
They solaced their wretchedness, however, by duets after
supper, while he could find no better reliefto his feelings than
by giving his housekeeper directions that every possible atten-
tion might be paid to the sick lady and her sister.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                     vol. 1

                     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 the enquiries 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 dispatched, and its contents as quickly com-
lied with.  Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by her two youngest
girls, reached Netherfield soon after the family breakfast.
Had she found Jane in any apparent danger, Mrs. Bennet
would have been very miserable; but being satisfied on seeing
her that her illness was not alarming, she had no wish of her
recovering immediately, as her restoration to health would
probably remove her from Netherfield.  She would not listen
therefore to her daughter's proposal of being carried home;
either 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 pos-
sible 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 I ever met
with.  I often tell my other girls they are nothing to her.  You
have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and a charming prospect
over that gravel walk.  I do not know a place in the country
that is equal to Netherfield.  You will not think of quitting it
in a hurry I hope, though you have but a short lease."
"Whatever I do is done in a hurry," replied he; "and there-
fore if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably
be off in five minutes.  At present, however, I consider myself
as quite fixed here."
"That is exactly what I should have supposed of you," said
Elizabeth.
"You begin to comprehend me, do you?" cried he, turning
towards her.
"Oh!  yes -- I understand you perfectly.".
"I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so
easily seen through I am afraid is pitiful."
"That is as it happens.  It does not necessarily follow that
a deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than such
a one as yours."
"Lizzy," cried her mother, "remember where you are and
do not run on in the wild manner that you are suffered to do
at home."
"I did not know before," continued Bingley 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 few
subjects 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 some-
thing new to be observed in them for ever."
"Yes, indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner
of mentioning a country neighbourhood.  "I assure you there
is quite as much of that going on in the country as in town."
Every body was surprised; and Darcy, after looking at her
for a moment, turned silently away.  Mrs. Bennet, who fancied
she had gained a complete victory over him, continued her
triumph.
"I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the
country for my part, except the shops and public places.  The
country is a vast deal pleasanter, is not it, Mr. Bingley?"
"When I am in the country," he replied, "I never wish to
leave it; and when I am in town it is pretty much the same.
They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy
in either."
"Aye -- that is because you have the right disposition.  But
that gentleman," looking at Darcy, "seemed to think the
country was nothing at all."
"Indeed, Mama, you are mistaken," said Elizabeth, blush-
ing for her mother.  "You quite mistook Mr. Darcy.  He only
meant that there were 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 neighbourhoods larger.  I know we dine
with four and twenty families."
Nothing but concern for Elizabeth could enable Bingley
to keep his countenance.  His sister was less delicate, and
directed her eye towards Mr. Darcy with a very expressive
smile.  Elizabeth, for the sake of saying something that might
turn her mother's thoughts, now asked her if Charlotte Lucas
had been at Longbourn since her coming away.
"Yes, she called yesterday with her father.  What an agree-
able man Sir William is, Mr. Bingley -- is not he?  so much the
man of fashion!  so genteel and so easy! -- He has always some-
thing to say to every body. -- That is my idea of good breed-
ing; and those persons who fancy themselves very important
and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter."
 "Did Charlotte dine with you?"
"No, she would go home.  I fancy she was wanted about the
mince pies.  For my part, Mr. Bingley, I always keep servants
that can do their own work; my daughters are brought up
 differently.  But every body is to judge for themselves, and the
Lucases are very good sort of girls, I assure you.  It is a pity
 they are not handsome!  Not that I think Charlotte so very
plain -- but then she is our particular friend."
 "She seems a very pleasant young woman," said Bingley.
"Oh!  dear, yes; -- but you must own she is very plain.  Lady
Lucas herself has often said so, and envied me Jane's beauty.
I do not like to boast of my own child, but to be sure, Jane --
 one does not often see any body better looking.  It is what every
body says.  I do not trust my own partiality.  When she was only
 fifteen, there was a gentleman at my brother Gardiner's in
town, so much in love with her, that my sister-in-law was sure
he would make her an offer before we came away.  But however
he did not.  Perhaps he thought her too young.  However, he
wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were."
"And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently.
 "There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same
way.  I wonder who first 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.  Every thing nourishes
what is strong already.  But if it be only a slight, thin sort of
inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve
it entirely away."
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 per-
formed her part indeed without much graciousness, but Mrs.
Bennet was satisfied, and soon afterwards ordered her car-
riage.  Upon this signal, the youngest of her daughters put
herself forward.  The two girls had been whispering to each
other during the whole visit, and the result ofit 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
omplexion and good-humoured countenance; a favourite
with hcr mother, whose affection had brought her into public
at an early age.  She had high animal spirits, and a sort of
natural self-consequence, which the attentions of the 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
all, 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 their
mother's ear.
"I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engage-
ment, 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 was well, and by that time most
likely Captain Carter would be at Meryton again.  And when
you have given your ball," she added, "I shall insist on their
giving one also.  I shall tell Colonel Forster it will be quite a
shame if he does not."
Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Eliza-
beth returned instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her rela-
tions' 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.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                     vol. 1

                     chapter 10


THE day passed much as the day before had done.  Mrs.
Hurst and Miss Bingley had spent some hours of the morn-
ing 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 atten-
tion by messages to his sister.  Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley
were at piquet, and Mrs. Hurst was obsevering their game.
Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently
amused in attending to what passed between Darcy and his
companion.  The perpetual commendations of the lady either
on his hand-writing, or on the evenness of his lines, or on the
length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern with which her
praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and was
exactly in unison with her opinion of each.
"How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!"
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 the year!  Letters of business too!  How odious I
should think them!"
"It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of
to yours."
"Pray tell your sister that I long to see her."
"I have already told her so once, by your desire."
"I am afraid you do not like your pen.  Let me mend it for
you.  I mend pens remarkably well."
"Thank you -- but I always mend my own."
"How can you contrive to write so even?"
He was silent.
"Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement
on the harp, and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures
with her beautiful little design for a table, and I think it
infinitely superior to Miss Grantley's."
"Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write
again? -- At present I have not room to do them justice."
"Oh!  it is of no consequence.  I shall see her in January.
But do you always write such charming long letters to her,
Mr. Darcy?"
"They are generally long; but whether always charming,
it is not for me to determine."
"It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long
letter, with ease, cannot write ill."
"That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline," cried
her brother -- "because he does not write with ease.  He studies
too much for words of four syllables. -- Do not you, Darcy?"
"My stile of writing is very different from yours."
"Oh!" cried Miss Bingley, "Charles writes in the most care-
ess way imaginable.  He leaves out half his words, and blots
the rest."
"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express
them -- by which means my letters sometimes convey no
ideas at all to my correspondents."
"Your humility, Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth, "must disarm
reproof."
"Nothing is more deceitful," said Darcy, "than the appear-
ance of humility.  It is often only carelessness of opinion, and
sometimes an indirect boast.""
"And which of the two do you call my little recent piece of
modesty?"
"The indirect boast; -- for you are really proud of your
defects in writing, because you consider them as proceeding
from a rapidity of thought and carelessness of execution, which
if not estimable, you think at least highly interesting.  The
power of doing any thing with quickness is always much
prized by the possessor, and often without any attention to the
imperfection of the performance.  When you told Mrs. Bennet
this morning that if you ever resolved on quitting Netherfield
you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort
of panegyric, of compliment to yourself -- and yet what is
there so very laudable in a precipitance which must leave very
necessary business undone, and can be of no real advantage
to yourself or any one else?"
"Nay," cried Bingley, "this is too much, to remember at
night all the foolish things that were said in the morning.  And
yet, upon my honour, I believed what I said of myself to be
true, and I believe it at this moment.  At least, therefore, I did
not assume the character of needless precipitance merely to
shew off before the ladies."
"I dare say you believed it; but I am by no means con-
vinced that you would be gone with such celerity.  Your con --
duct would be quite as dependant on chance as that of any
man I know; and if, as you were mounting your horse, a friend
were to say, ""Bingley, you had better stay till next week,""
you would probably do it, you would probably not go -- and,
at another word, might stay a month."
"You have only proved by this," cried Elizabeth, "that Mr-
Bingley did not do justice to his own disposition.  You have
shewn him off now much more than he did himself."
"I am exceedingly gratified," said Bingley, "by your convert-
ing what my friend says into a compliment on the sweetness
of my temper, But I am afraid you are giving it a turn which
that gentleman did by no means intend; for he would certainly
think the better of me, if under such a circumstance I were to
give a flat denial, and ride offas fast as I could "
"Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness of your
original intention as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering
to it?"
 "Upon my word I cannot exactly explain the matter, Darcy
must speak for himself."
"You expect me to account for opinions which you chuse
to call mine, but which I have never acknowledged Allowing
the case, however, to stand according to your representation,
you must remember, Miss Bennet, that the friend who is su -
posed to desire his return to the house, and the delay of his
plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering one argu-
ment in favour of its propriety."
"To yield readily -- easily -- to the persuasion of a friend is no
merit with you."
"To yield without conviction is no comliment to the under-
standing of either."
"You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the
influence of friendship and affection.  A regard for the requester
would often make one readily yield to a request without wait-
ing for arguments to reason one into it.  I am not particularly
speaking of such a case as you have su osed about Mr
Bingley.  We may as well wait, perhaps, till the circumstance
occurs, before we discuss the discretion of his behaviour there-
upon, But in general and ordinary cases between friend and
friend, where one of them is desired by the other to change a
resolution of no very great moment, should you think ill of
that person for complying with the desire, without waiting to
be argued into it?"
"Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject,
to arrange with rather more precision the degree of importance
which is to appertain to this request, as well as the degree of
intimacy subsisting between the parties?"
 "By all means," cried Bingley; "Let us hear all the particulars,
not forgetting thier comparitive height and size; fo that will
have more weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you
may be aware of.  I assure you that if Darcy were not such a
great tall fellow, in comparison with myself, I should not pay
him half so much deference.  I declare I do not know a more
aweful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in
particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday
evening when he has nothing to do."
Mr. Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thought she could per-
ceive that he was rather offended; and therefore checked he
laugh.  Miss Bingley warmly resented the indignity he had
received, in an expostulation with her broth r for talking suc
nonsense.
 "I see your design, Bingley," said his friend. -- "You dislike
an argument, and want to silence this."
 "Perhaps I do.  Arguments are too much like disputes.  I
you and Miss Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the
room, I shall be very thankful; and then you may say whateve
you like of me."
"What you ask," said Elizabeth, "is no sacrifice on my side
and Mr. Darcy had much better finish his letter,"
Mr. Darcy took her advice, and did finish his letter.
When that business was over, he applied to Miss Bingley
and Elizabeth for the indulgence of some music.  Miss Bingle
moved with alacrity to the piano-forte, and after a polite
request that Elizabeth would lead the way, which the other a
politely and more earnestly negatived, she seated herself,
Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and while they were thus
employed Elizabeth could not help observing as she turned over
some music books that lay on the instrument, how frequently
Mr. Darcy's eyes were fixed on her.  She hardly knew how to
suppose that she could be an object of admiration to so great
man; and yet that he should look at her because he disliked her,
was still more strange.  She could only imagine however at last
that she drew his notice because there was a something about
her more wrong and reprehensible, according to his ideas of
right, than in any other person present.  The supposition did not
aain her.  She liked him too little to care for his approbation
After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the
charm by a lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy,
drawing near Elizabeth, said to her --
"Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize
such an opportunity of dancing a reel?"
She smiled, but made no answer.  He repeated the question,
with some surprise at her silence
"Oh!" said she, "I heard you before; but I could not immedi-
ately determine what to say in reply.  You wanted me, I know,
to say ""Yes,"' that you might have the pleasure of despising
my taste; but I always delight in overthrowing those kind of
schemes, and cheating a person of their premeditated con-
tempt.  I have therefore made up my mind to tell you, that
I do not want to dance a reel at all -- and now despise me if
you dare."
"Indeed I do not dare."
Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was
amazed at his gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness
and archness in her manner which made it difficult for her to
affront anybody; and Darcy had never been so bewitched by
any woman as he was by her.  He really believed, that were it
not for the inferiority of her connections, he should be in
some danger.
Miss Bingley saw or suspected enough to bejealous.  and her
great anxiety for the recovery of her dear friend Jane, recel-ved
some assistance from her desire of getting rid of Elizabeth.
She often tried to provoke Darcy into disliking her guest,
by talking of their supposed marriage, and planning his
happiness in such an alliance.
"I hope," said she, as they were walking together in the
shrubbery the next day, "you will give your mother-in-law a
few hints, when this desirable event takes place, as to the
advantage of holding her tongue; and if you can compass it,
do cure the younger girls of running after the officers. -- And,
if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavour to check that
little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence,
which your lady possesses."
 "Have you any thing else to propose for my domestic
felicity?"
 "Oh!  yes. -- Do let the portraits of your uncle and aunt
.. <philips be placed in the gallery at Pemberley.  Put them next
to your great uncle the judge.  They are in the same pro-
fession, you know; only in different lines.  As for your Eliza-
beth's picture, you must not attempt to have it taken, for
what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?"
"It would not be easy, indeed, to catch their expression, but
their colour and shape, and the eye-lashes, so remarkably
fine, might be copied."
At that moment they were met from another walk, by Mrs.
Hurst and Elizabeth herself.
"I did not know that you intended to walk," said Miss
Bingley, in some confusion, lest they had been overheard.
"You used us abominably ill," answered Mrs. Hurst, "in
running away without telling us that you were coming out."
Then taking the disengaged arm of Mr. Darcy, she left
Elizabeth to walk by herself.  The path just admitted three.
Mr. Darcy felt their rudeness and immediately said, --
 "This walk is not wide enough for our party.  We had better
go into the avenue."
But Elizabeth, who had not the least inclination to remain
with them, laughingly answered,
 "No, no; stay where you are. -- You are charmingly group'd,
and appear to uncommon advantage.  The picturesque would
be spoilt by admitting a fourth.  Good bye."
She then ran gaily off, rejoicing as she rambled about, in the
hope of being at home again in a day or two.  Jane was already
so much recovered as to intend leaving her room for a couple
of hours that evening.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                       vol. 1

                     chapter 11


WHEN the ladies removed after dinner, Elizabeth ran up to
her sister, and seeing her well guarded from cold, attended her
into the drawing-room; where she was welcomed by her two
friends with many professions of pleasure; and Elizabeth had
never seen them so agreeable as they were during the hour
which passed before the gentlemen appeared.  Their powers
of conversation were considerable.  They could describe an
entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour,
and laugh at their acquaintance with spirit.
But when the gentlemen entered, Jane was no longer the
first object.  Miss Bingley's eyes were instantly turned towards
Darcy, and she had something to say to him before he had
advanced many steps.  He addressed himself directly to Miss
Bennet, with a polite congratulation; Mr. Hurst also made
her a slight bow, and said he was "very glad;' but diffuseness
and warmth remained for Bingley's salutation.  He was full
of joy and attention.  The first half hour was spent in piling
up the fire, lest she should suffer from the change of room;
and she removed at his desire to the other side of the fire-
place, that she might be farther from the door.  He then sat
down by her, and talked scarcely to any one else.  Elizabeth,
at work in the opposite corner, saw it all with great delight.
When tea was over, Mr. Hurst reminded his sister-in-law
of the card-table -- but in vain.  She had obtained private intel-
ligence that Mr. Darcy did not wish for cards; and Mr. Hurst
soon found even his open petition rejected.  She assured him
that no one intended to play, and the silence of the whole
party on the subject, seemed to justify her.  Mr. Hurst had
therefore nothing to do, but to stretch himself on one of the
sophas and go to sleep.  Darcy took up a book; Miss Bingley
did the same; and Mrs. Hurst, principally occupied in play-
ing with her bracelets and rings, joined now and then in her
brother's conversation with Miss Bennet.
Miss Bingley's attention was quite as much engaged in
watching Mr. Darcy's progress through his book, as in read-
ing her own; and she was perpetually either making some
inquiry, or looking at his page.  She could not win him, how-
ever, to any conversation; he merely answered her question,
 and read on.  At length, quite exhausted by the attempt to be
amused with her own book, which she had only chosen
because it was the second volume of his, she gave a great yawn
and said, "How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way!
I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading!  How
much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book! -- When I
have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an
excellent library."
No one made any reply.  She then yawned again, threw
aside her book, and cast her eyes round the room in quest of
some amusement; when hearing her brother mentioning a
ball to Miss Bennet, she turned suddenly towards him and
 said,
"By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a
dance at Netherfield? -- I would advise you, before you deter-
mine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party; I am
much mistaken if there are not some among us to whom a ball
would be rather a punishment than a pleasure."
"If you mean Darcy," cried her brother, "he may go to bed,
if he chuses, before it begins -- but as for the ball, it is quite a
settled thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup
enough I shall send round my cards."
 "I should like balls infinitely better," she replied, "if they
were carried on in a different manner- but there is something
insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a meeting.
It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead
 of dancing made the order of the day."
"Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say but it
 would not be near so much like a ball."
Miss Bingley made no answer; and soon afterwards got
up and walked about the room.  Her figure was elegant,
and she walked well; -- but Darcy, at whom it was all
aimed, was still inflexibly studious.  In the desperation of
her feelings she resolved on one effort more- and turning to
Elizabeth, said,
"Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my
example, and take a turn about the room. -- I assure you it is
very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude."
Elizabeth was surprised, but agreed to it immediately.  Miss
Bingley succeeded no less in the real object of her civility;
Mr. Darcy looked up.  He was as much awake to the novelty
of attention in that quarter as Elizabeth herself could be, and
unconsciously closed his book.  He was directly invited to joln
their party, but he declined it, observing, that he could
imagine but two motives for their chusing to walk up and
down the room together, with either of which motives his
joining them would interfere.  "What could he mean?  she was
dying to know what could be his meaning' -- and asked Eliza-
beth whether she could at all understand him?
"Not at all," was her answer; "but depend upon it, he means
to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him,
will be to ask nothing about it."
Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disappointing
Mr. Darcy in any thing, and persevered therefore in requiring
an explanation of his two motives.
"I have not the smallest objection to explaining them," said
he, as soon as she allowed him to speak.  "You either chuse this
method of passing the evening because you are in each other's
confidence and have secret affairs to discuss, or because you
are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage
in walking; -- if the first, I should be completely in your way;
 -- and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by
the fire."
"Oh!  shocking!" cried Miss Bingley.  "I never heard any
thing so abominable.  How shall we punish him for such a
speech?  "
"Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination," said
Elizabeth.  "We can all plague and punish one another.  Teaze
him -- laugh at him. -- Intimate as you are, you must know how
it is to be done."
"But upon my honour I do not.  I do assure you that my
intimacy has not yet taught me that.  Teaze calmness of temper
and presence of mind!  No, no -- I feel he may defy us there.
And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please,
by attempting to laugh without a subject.  Mr. Darcy may hug
himself."
"Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!" cried Elizabeth.  "That
is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will
continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such
acquaintance.  I dearly love a laugh."
"Miss Bingley," said he, "has given me credit for more than
can be.  The wisest and the best of men, nay, the wisest and
best of their actions, may be rendered ridiculous by a person
whose first object in life is a joke."
"Certainly," replied Elizabeth -- "there are such people, but
I hope I am not one of them.  I hope I never ridicule what is
wise or good.  Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies
do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. --
But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without."
"Perhaps that is not possible for any one.  But it has been
the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often
expose a strong understanding to ridicule."
"Such as vanity and pride."
"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed.  But pride -- where there
is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good
regulation."
Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile.
"Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume," said
Miss Bingley; -- "and pray what is the result?"
"I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect.
He owns it himself without disguise."
"No' -- said Darcy, "I have made no such pretension.  I have
faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding.
My temper I dare not vouch for. -- It is I believe too little
yielding -- certainly too little for the convenience of the world.
I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I
ought, nor their offences against myself.  My feelings are not
puffed about with every attempt to move them.  My temper
would perhaps be called resentful. -- My good opinion once
lost is lost for ever."
"That is a failing indeed!" -- cried Elizabeth.  "Implacable
resentment is a shade in a character.  But you have chosen your
fault well. -- I really cannot laugh at it you are safe from
me."
"There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some
particular evil, a natural defect, which not even the best
education can overcome."
"And your defect is a propensity to hate every body."
"And yours," he replied with a smile, "is wilfully to mis-
understand them."
"Do let us have a little music," -- cried Miss Bingley, tired
of a conversation in which she had no share. -- "Louisa, you
will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst."
Her sister made not the smallest objection, and the piano
forte was opened, and Darcy, after a few moments recol-
lection, was not sorry for it.  He began to feel the danger of
paying Elizabeth too much attention.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                      vol. 1

                     chapter 12


IN consequence of an agreement between the sisters, Eliza-
beth wrote the next morning to her mother, to beg that the
carriage might be sent for them in the course of the day.  But
Mrs. Bennet, who had calculated on her daughters remaining
at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which would
exactly finish Jane's week, could not bring herself to receive
hem with pleasure before.  Her answer, therefore, was not
propitious, at least not to Elizabeth's wishes, for she was
impatient to get home.  Mrs. Bennet sent them word that they
could not possibly have the carriage before Tuesday; and in
her postscript it was added, that if Mr. Bingley and his sister
pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them very well. --
Against staying longer, however, Elizabeth was positively
resolved -- nor did she much expect it would be asked; and
fearful, on the contrary, as being considered as intruding
themselves needlessly long, she urged Jane to borrow Mr.
Bingley's carriage immediately, and at length it was settled
that their original design of leaving Netherfield that morning
should be mentioned, and the request made.
The communication excited many professions of concern;
and enough was said of wishing them to stay at least till the
following day to work on Jane; and till the morrow, their
going was deferred.  Miss Bingley was then sorry that she had
proposed the delay, for her jealousy and dislike of one sister
much exceeded her affection for the other.
The master of the house heard with real sorrow that they
were to go so soon, and repeatedly tried to persuade Miss
Bennet that it would not be safe for her -- that she was not
enough recovered; but Jane was firm where she felt herself
to be right.
To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence -- Elizabeth had
been at Netherfield long enough.  She attracted him more than
he liked -- and Miss Bingley was uncivil to her, and more
teazing than usual to himself.  He wisely resolved to be parti-
cularly careful that no sign of admiration should now escape
him, nothing that could elevate her with the hope of influenc-
ing his felicity; sensible that if such an idea had been sug-
gested, his behaviour during the last day must have material
weight in confirming or crushing it.  Steady to his purpose, he
scarcely spoke ten words to her through the whole of Saturday,
and though they were at one time left by themselves for half
an hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book, and
would not even look at her.
On Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agree-
able to almost all, took place.  Miss Bingley's civility to Eliza-
beth increased at last very rapidly, as well as her affection for
Jane; and when they parted, after assuring the latter of the
pleasure it would always give her to see her either at Long-
bourn or Netherfield, and embracing her most tenderly, she
even shook hands with the former. -- Elizabeth took leave of
the whole party in the liveliest spirits.
They were not welcomed home very cordially by their
mother.  Mrs. Bennet wondered at their coming, and thought
them very wrong to give so much trouble, and was sure Jane
would have caught cold again. -- But their father, though very
laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was really glad to see
them; he had felt their importance in the family circle.  The
evening conversation, when they were all assembled, had lost
much of its animation, and almost all its sense, by the absence
of Jane and Elizabeth.
They found Mary, as usual, deep in the study of thorough
bass and human nature; and had some new extracts to admire,
and some new observations of thread-bare morality to listen
to.  Catherine and Lydia had information for them of a dif-
ferent sort.  Much had been done, and much had been said in
the regiment since the preceding Wednesday; several of the
officers had dined lately with their uncle, a private had been
flogged, and it had actually been hinted that Colonel Forster
was going to be married.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                       vol. 1

                     chapter 13


"I HOPE my dear ' said Mr. Bennet to his wife as they were
at breakfast the next morning, "that you have ordered a good
dinner to-day, because I have reason to expect an addition to
our family party."
"Who do you mean, my dear?  I know of nobody that is
coming I am sure, unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to
call in, and I hope my dinners are good enough for her.  I do
not believe she often sees such at home."
"The person of whom I speak, is a gentleman and a stranger."
Mrs. Bennet's eyes sparkled. -- "A gentleman and a stranger!
It is Mr. Bingley I am sure.  Why Jane -- you never dropt a
word of this; you sly thing!  Well, I am sure I shall be extremely
glad to see Mr. Bingley. -- But -- good lord!  how unlucky!
there is not a bit of fish to be got to-day.  Lydia, my love, ring
the bell.  I must speak to Hill, this moment."
"It is not Mr. Bingley," said her husband; "it is a person
whom I never saw in the whole course of my life."
This roused a general astonishment; and he had the pleasure
of being eagerly questioned by his wife and five daughters
at once.
After amusing himself some time with their curiosity, he
thus explained.  "About a month ago I received this letter, and
about a fortnight ago I answered it, for I thought it a case of
some delicacy, and requiring early attention.  It is from my
cousin, Mr. Collins, who, when I am dead, may turn you all
out of this house as soon as he pleases."
"Oh!  my dear," cried his wife, "I cannot bear to hear that
mentioned.  Pray do not talk of that odious man.  I do think it
is the hardest thing in the world, that your estate should be
entailed away from your own children; and I am sure if I had
been you, I should have tried long ago to do something or
other about it."
Jane and Elizabeth attempted to explain to her the nature
of an entail.  They had often attempted it before, but it was a
subject on which Mrs. Bennet was beyond the reach of reason;
and she continued to rail bitterly against the cruelty of settling
an estate away from a family of five daughters, in favour of a
man whom nobody cared anything about.
"It certainly is a most iniquitous affair," said Mr. Bennet,
"and nothing can clear Mr. Collins from the guilt ofinherit-
ing Longbourn.  But if you will listen to his letter, you
may perhaps be a little softened by his manner of expressing
himself."
"No, that I am sure I shall not; and I think it was very
impertinent of him to write to you at all, and very hypocritical.
I hate such false friends.  Why could not he keep on quarrelling
with you, as his father did before him?"
"Why, indeed, he does seem to have had some filial scruples
on that head, as you will hear."
Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,
I5th October.
DEAR SIR,
THE disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late
honoured father, always gave me much uneasiness, and since
I have had the misfortune to lose him I have frequently
wished to heal the breach; but for some time I was kept back
his memory for me to be on good terms with any one, with
whom it had always pleased him to be at variance. -- "There,
Mrs. Bennet." -- My mind however is now made up on the
subject, for having received ordination at Easter, I have been
so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the
Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir
Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has pre-
ferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall
be my earnest endeavour to demean myself with grateful
respect towards her Ladyship, and be ever ready to perform
those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church
of England.  As a clergyman, moreover, I feel it my duty to
promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families
within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds I flatter
myself that my present overtures of good-will are highly
commendable, and that the circumstance of my being next
in the entail of Longbourn estate, will be kindly overlooked
on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive
branch.  I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the
means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to
pologise for it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to
make them every possible amends, -- but of this hereafter.
if you should have no objection to receive me into your
house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you
and your family, Monday, November i{8th, by four o'clock,
and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the
Saturday se'night following, which I can do without any
inconvenience, as Lady Catherine is far from objecting to
my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided that some
other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day.  I
remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady
and daughters, your well-wisher and friend,
WILLIAM COLLINS.
"At four o'clock, therefore, we may expect this peace-
making gentleman," said Mr. Bennet, as he folded up the
letter.  "He seems to be a most conscientious and polite young
man, upon my word; and I doubt not will prove a valuable
acquaintance, especially if Lady Catherine should be so
indulgent as to let him come to us again."
"There is some sense in what he says about the girls how-
ever; and if he is disposed to make them any amends, I shall
not be the person to discourage him."
"Though it is difficult," said Jane, "to guess in what way
he can mean to make us the atonement he thinks our due, the
wish is certainly to his credit."
Elizabeth was chiefly struck with his extraordinary defer-
ence for Lady Catherine, and his kind intention of christen-
ing, marrying, and burying his parishioners whenever it were
required.
"He must be an oddity, I think," said she.  "I cannot make
him out. -- There is something very pompous in his stile. --
And what can he mean by apologizing for being next in the
entail? -- We cannot suppose he would help it, if he could. --
.. <can he be a sensible man, sir?"
"No, my dear; I think not.  I have great hopes of finding
him quite the reverse.  There is a mixture of servility and self-
importance in his letter, which promises well.  I am impatient
to see him."
"In point of composition," said Mary, "his letter does not
seem defective.  The idea of the olive branch perhaps is not
wholly new, yet I think it is well expressed."
To Catherine and Lydia, neither the letter nor its writer
were in any degree interesting.  It was next to impossible that
their cousin should come in a scarlet coat, and it was now some
weeks since they had received pleasure from the society of a
man in any other colour.  As for their mother, Mr. Collins's
letter had done away much of her ill-will, and she was re-
paring to see him with a degree ofcomposure, which astonished
her husband a daughters.
Mr. Collins was punctual to his time, and was received with
great politeness by the whole family.  Mr. Bennet indeed said
little; but the ladies were ready enough to talk and Mr.
.. <collins seemed neither in need of encouragement, nor
inclined to be silent himself.  He was a tall, heavy looking young
man of five and twenty.  His air was grave and stately, and his
manners were very formal.  He had not been long seated
before he complimented Mrs. Bennet on having so fine a
family of daughters, said he had heard much of their beauty,
but that, in this instance, fame had fallen short of the truth;
and added, that he did not doubt her seeing them all in due
time well disposed of in marriage.  This gallantry was not
much to the taste of some of his hearers, but Mrs. Bennet
who quarrelled with no compliments, answered most readily,
"You are very kind, sir, I am sure; and I wish with all my
heart it may prove so; for else they will be destitute enough.
things are settled so oddly."
"You allude perhaps to the entail of this estate."
"Ah!  sir, I do indeed.  It is a grievous affair to my poor girls
you must confess.  Not that I mean to find fault with you, for
much things I know are all chance in this world.  There is no
knowing how estates will go when once they come to be
entailed."
"I am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to my fair
cousins, -- and could say much on the subject, but that I am
cautious of appearing forward and precipitate.  But I can
assure the young ladies that I come prepared to admire them.
At present I will not say more, but perhaps when we are
better acquainted -- "
He was interrupted by a summons to dinner; and the girls
smiled on each other.  They were not the only objects of Mr.
collins's admiration.  The hall, the dining-room, and all its
furniture were examined and praised; and his commendation
of every thing would have touched Mrs. Bennet's heart, but
for the mortifying supposition of his viewing it all as his own
future property.  The dinner too in its tum was highly
admired; and he begged to know to which of his fair cousins,
the excellence ofits cookery was owing.  But here he was set
right by Mrs. Bennet, who assured him with some asperity
that they were very well able to keep a good cook, and that
her daughters had nothing to do in the kitchen.  He begged
pardon for having displeased her.  In a softened tone she
declared herself not at all offended; but he continued to
apologise for about a quarter of an hour.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                     vol. 1

                     chapter 14



DURING dinner, Mr. Bennet scarcely spoke at all; but when
the servants were withdrawn, he thought it time to have some
conversation with his guest, and therefore started a subject in
which he expected him to shine, by observing that he seemed
very fortunate in his patroness.  Lady Catherine de Bourgh's
attention to his wishes, and consideration for his comfort,
appeared very remarkable.  Mr. Bennet could not have chosen
better.  Mr. Collins was eloquent in her praise.  The subject
elevated him to more than usual solemnity of manner, and
with a most important aspect he protested that he had never
in his life witnessed such behaviour in a person of rank -- such
affability and condescension, as he had himself experienced
from Lady Catherine.  She had been graciously pleased to
approve of both the discourses, which he had already had the
honour of preaching before her.  She had also asked him twice
to dine at Rosings, and had sent for him only the Saturday
before, to make up her pool of quadrille in the evening.  Lady
.. <catherine was reckoned proud by many people he knew, but
he had never seen any thing but affability in her.  She had
always spoken to him as she would to any other gentleman;
she made not the smallest objection to his joining in the
society of the neighbourhood, nor to his leaving his parish
occasionally for a week or two, to visit his relations.  She had
even condescended to advise him to marry as soon as he could,
provided he chose with discretion; and had once payed him a
visit in his humble parsonage; where she had perfectly
vouchsafed to suggest some herself, -- some shelves in the
closets up stairs."
"That is all very proper and civil I am sure ' said Mrs
Bennet, "and I dare say she is a very agreeable woman.  It is
a pity that great ladies in general are not more like her.  Does
she live near you, sir?"
"The garden in which stands my humble abode, is separated
only by a lane from Rosings Park, her ladyship's residence."
"I think you said she was a widow, sir?  has she any family?"
"She has one only daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of
very extensive property."
"Ah!" cried Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head, "then she is
better off than many girls.  And what sort of young lady is she?
is she handsome?"
"She is a most charming young lady indeed.  Lady Catherine
herself says that in point of true beauty, Miss De Bourgh is
far superior to the handsomest of her sex; because there is
that in her features which marks the young woman of dis-
tinguished birth.  She is unfortunately of a sickly constitution,
which has prevented her making that progress in many
accomplishments, which she could not otherwise have failed
of; as I am informed by the lady who superintended her
education, and who still resides with them.  But she is per-
ectly amiable, and often condescends to drive by my humble
abode in her little phaeton and ponies."
"Has she been presented?  I do not remember her name
among the ladies at court."
"Her indifferent state of health unhappily prevents her
being in town; and by that means, as I told Lady Catherine
myself one day, has deprived the British court of its brightest
ornament.  Her ladyship seemed pleased with the idea, and
you may imagine that I am happy on every occasion to offer
those little delicate compliments which are always acceptable
to ladies.  I have more than once observed to Lady Catherine,
that her charming daughter seemed born to be a duchess, and
that the most elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence,
would be adorned by her. -- These are the kind of little things
which please her ladyship, and it is a sort ofattention which I
conceive myself peculiarly bound to pay."
"You judge very properly," said Mr. Bennet, "and it is happy
for you that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy.
May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the
impulse of the moment, or are the result of previous study?"
"They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and
though I sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and
arranging such little elegant compliments as may be adapted
to ordinary occasions, I always wish to give them as unstudied
an air as possible."
Mr. Bennet's expectations were fully answered.  His cousin
was as absurd as he had hoped, and he listened to him with the
keenest enjoyment, maintaining at the same time the most
resolute composure of countenance, and except in an occa-
sional glance at Elizabeth, requiring no partner in his pleasure.
By tea-time however the dose had been enough, and Mr.
Bennet was glad to take his guest into the drawing-room
again, and when tea was over, glad to invite him to read aloud
to the ladies.  Mr. Collins readily assented, and a book was
produced; but on beholding it, (for every thing announced it
to be from a circulating library,) he started back, and begging
pardon, protested that he never read novels. -- Kitty stared
at him, and Lydia exclaimed. -- Other books were produced,
and after some deliberation he chose Fordyce's Sermons.
Lydia gaped as he opened the volume, and before he had, with
very monotonous solemnity, read three pages, she interrupted
him with,
"Do you know, mama, that my uncle Philips talks of turn-
ing away Richard, and if he does, Colonel Forster will hire
him.  My aunt told me so herself on Saturday.  I shall walk
to Meryton to-morrow to hear more about it, and to ask when
Mr. Denny comes back from town."
Lydia was bid by her two eldest sisters to hold her tongue;
but Mr. Collins, much offended, laid aside his book, and said,
"I have often observed how little young ladies are interested
by books of a serious stamp, though written solely for their
benefit.  It amazes me, I confess; -- for certainly, there can be
nothing so advantageous to them as instruction.  But I will no
longer importune my young cousin."
Then turning to Mr. Bennet, he offered himself as his
antagonist at backgammon.  Mr. Bennet accepted the chal-
lenge, observing that he acted very wisely in leaving the girls
to their own trifling amusements.  Mrs. Bennet and her daugh-
ters apologised most civilly for Lydia's interruption, and
promised that it should not occur again, if he would resume
his book; but Mr. Collins, after assuring them that he bore
his young cousin no ill will, and should never resent her
behaviour as any affront, seated himself at another table with
Mr. Bennet, and prepared for backgammon.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                        vol. 1

                       chapter 15


MR.  COLLINs was not a sensible man, and the deficiency
of nature had been but little assisted by education or society;
he greatest part of his life having been spent under the
guidance of an illiterate and miserly father; and though he
belonged to one of the universities, he had merely kept the
necessary terms, without forming at it any useful acquaintance.
he subjection in which his father had brought him up, had
given him originally great humility of manner, but it was now
good deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head,
living in retirement, and the consequential feelings of early
and unexpected prosperity.  A fortunate chance had recom-
mended him to Lady Catherine de Bourgh when the living of
Hunsford was vacant; and the respect which he felt for her
high rank and his veneration for her as his patroness, mingling
with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a clergy-
man, and his rights as a rector, made him altogether a mixture
of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility.
Having now a good house and very sufficient income, he
intended to marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the
Longbourn family he had a wife in view, as he meant to chuse
one of the daughters, if he found them as handsome and
amiable as they were represented by common report.  This
was his plan of amends -- of atonement -- for inheriting their
father's estate; and he thought it an excellent one, full of
eligibility and suitableness, and excessively generous and dis-
interested on his own part.
His plan did not vary on seeing them. -- Miss Bennet's
lovely face confirmed his views, and established all his strictest
notions of what was due to seniority; and for the first evening
she was his settled choice.  The next morning, however, made
an alteration; for in a quarter of an hour's tete-a-tete with Mrs.
Bennet before breakfast, a conversation beginning with his
parsonage-house, and leading naturally to the avowal of his
hopes, that a mistress for it might be found at Longbourn,
produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general
encouragement, a caution against the very Jane he had fixed
on. -- "As to her younger daughters she could not take upon her
to say -- she could not positively answer -- but she did not know
of any prepossession; -- her eldest daughter, she must just
mention -- she felt it incumbent on her to hint, was likely to
be very soon engaged."
Mr. Collins had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth --
and it was soon done -- done while Mrs. Bennet was stirring
the fire.  Elizabeth, equally next to Jane in birth and beauty,
succeeded her of course.
Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted that she
might soon have two daughters married; and the man whom
she could not bear to speak of the day before, was now high in
her good graces.
Lydia's intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten;
every sister except Mary agreed to go with her; and Mr.
.. <collins was to attend them, at the request of Mr. Bennet, who
was most anxious to get rid of him, and have his library to him-
self; for thither Mr. Collins had followed him after breakfast
and there he would continue, nominally engaged with one of
the largest folios in the collection, but really talking to Mr.
Bennet, with little cessation, of his house and garden at
Hunsford.  Such doings discomposed Mr. Bennet exceed-
ingly.  In his library he had been always sure of leisure and
tranquillity; and though prepared, as he told Elizabeth, to
meet with folly and conceit in every other room in the house,
he was used to be free from them there; his civility, therefore
was most prompt in inviting Mr. Collins to join his daughters
in their walk; and Mr. Collins, being in fact much better fitted
for a walker than a reader, was extremely well pleased to close
his large book, and go.
In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that
of his cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton.
The attention of the younger ones was then no longer to be
gained by him.  Their eyes were immediately wandering up in
the street in quest of the officers, and nothing less than a very
smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin in a shop window,
could recal them.
But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young
man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike
appearance, walking with an officer on the other side of the
way.  The officer was the very Mr. Denny, concerning whose
return from London Lydia came to inquire, and he bowed as
they passed.  All were struck with the stranger's air, all
wondered who he could be, and Kitty and Lydia, determined
if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under
pretence of wanting something in an opposite shop, and
fortunately had just gained the pavement when the two gentle-
men turning back had reached the same spot.  Mr. Denny
addressed them directly, and entreated permission to intro-
uce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him
the day before from town, and he was happy to say had accepted
a commission in their corps.  This was exactly as it should be;
for the young man wanted only regimentals to make him com-
pletely charming.  His appearance was greatly in his favour;
he had all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good
figure, and very pleasing address.  The introduction was
followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation --
a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming;
and the whole party were still standing and talking together
very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice,
and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street.  On
distinguishing the ladies of the group, the two gentlemen
came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities.
Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the
principal object.  He was then, he said, on his way to Long-
bourn on purpose to inquire after her.  Mr. Darcy corro-
borated it with a bow, and was beginning to determine not
to fix his eyes on Elizabeth, when they were suddenly arrested
by the sight of the stranger, and Elizabeth happening to see
the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all
astonishment at the effect of the meeting.  Both changed
colour, one looked white, the other red.  Mr. Wickham, after
a few moments, touched his hat -- a salutation which Mr.
Darcy just deigned to return.  What could be the meaning of
it? -- It was impossible to imagine; it was impossible not to
long to know.
In another minute Mr. Bingley, but without seeming to
have noticed what passed, took leave and rode on with his
friend.
Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young ladies
to the door of Mr. Philips's house, and then made their bows,
in spite of Miss Lydia's pressing entreaties that they would
come in, and even in spite of Mrs. Philips' throwing up the
parlour window, and loudly seconding the invitation.
Mrs. Philips was always glad to see her nieces, and the two
eldest, from their recent absence, were particularly welcome,
and she was eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden
retum home, which, as their own carriage had not fetched
them, she should have known nothing about, if she had not
happened to see Mr. Jones's shop boy in the street, who had
told her that they were not to send any more draughts to
Netherfield because the Miss Bennets were come away, when
her civility was claimed towards Mr. Collins by Jane's intro-
duction of him.  She received him with her very best polite-
ness, which he returned with as much more, apologising for
his intrusion, without any previous acquaintance with her,
which he could not help flattering himself however might be
justified by his relationship to the young ladies who intro-
duced him to her notice.  Mrs. Philips was quite awed by such
an excess of good breeding; but her contemplation of one
stranger was soon put an end to by exclamations and inquiries
about the other, of whom, however, she could only tell her
nieces what they already knew, that Mr. Denny had brought
him from London, and that he was to have a lieutenant's com-
mission in the -- shire.  She had been watching him the last
hour, she said, as he walked up and down the street, and had
Mr. Wickham appeared Kitty and Lydia would certainly have
continued the occupation, but unluckily no one passed the
windows now except a few of the officers, who in comparison
with the stranger, were become "stupid, disagreeable fellows."
Some of them were to dine with the Philipses the next day,
and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr.
Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from
Longbourn would come in the evening.  This was agreed to,
and Mrs. Philips protested that they would have a nice com-
fortable noisy game of lottery tickets, and a little bit of hot
supper afterwards.  The prospect of such delights was very
cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits.  Mr. Collins
repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was assured
with unwearying civility that they were perfectly needless.
As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she
had seen pass between the two gentlemen; but though Jane
would have defended either or both, had they appeared to
be wrong, she could no more explain such behaviour than
her sister.
Mr. Collins on his return highly gratified Mrs. Bennet by
admiring Mrs. Philips's manners and politeness.  He protested
that except Lady Catherine and her daughter, he had never
seen a more elegant woman; for she had not only received him
with the utmost civility, but had even pointedly included him
in her invitation for the next evening, although utterly un-
known to her before.  Something he supposed might be
attributed to his connection with them, but yet he had never
met with so much attention in the whole course of his life.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                        vol. 1

                       chapter 16


As no objection was made to the young people's engagement
with their aunt, and all Mr. Collins's scruples of leaving Mr.
and Mrs. Bennet for a single evening during his visit were most
steadily resisted, the coach conveyed him and his five cousins
at a suitable hour to Meryton; and the girls had the pleasure
of hearing, as they entered the drawing-room, that Mr.
Wickham had accepted their uncle's invitation, and was then
in the house.
When this information was given, and they had all taken
their seats, Mr. Collins was at leisure to look around him and
admire, and he was so much struck with the size and furniture
of the apartment, that he declared he might almost have sup-
posed himself in the small summer breakfast parlour at
Rosings; a comparison that did not at first convey much
gratification; but when Mrs. Philips understood from him
what Rosings was, and who was its proprietor, when she had
listened to the description of only one of Lady Catherine's
drawing-rooms, and found that the chimney-piece alone had
cost eight hundred pounds, she felt all the force of the com-
pliment, and would hardly have resented a comparison with
the housekeeper's room.
In describing to her all the grandeur of Lady Catherine
and her mansion, with occasional digressions in praise of his
own humble abode, and the improvements it was receivin
he was happily employed until the gentlemen joined them;
and he found in Mrs. Philips a very attentive listener, whose
opinion of his consequence increased with what she heard,
and who was resolving to retail it all among her neighbours as
soon as she could.  To the girls, who could not listen to their
cousin, and who had nothing to do but to wish for an instru-
ment, and examine their own indifferent imitations of china
on the mantlepiece, the interval of waiting appeared very long.
It was over at last however.  The gentlemen did approach;
and when Mr. Wickham walked into the room, Elizabeth felt
that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thinking of
him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admira-
tion.  The officers of the -shire were in general a very
creditable, gentlemanlike set, and the best of them were of the
present party; but Mr. Wickham was as far beyond them all
in person, countenance, air, and walk, as they were superior
to the broad-faced stuffy uncle Philips, breathing port wine,
who followed them into the room.
Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost
every female eye was turned, and Elizabeth was the happy
woman by whom he finally seated himself; and the agreeable
manner in which he immediately fell into conversation,
though it was only on its being a wet night, and on the prob-
ability of a rainy season, made her feel that the commonest,
dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting
by the skill of the speaker.
With such rivals for the notice of the fair, as Mr. Wickham
and the officers, Mr. Collins seemed likely to sink into insigni-
ficance; to the young ladies he certainly was nothing; but he
had still at intervals a kind listener in Mrs. Philips, and was,
by her watchfulness, most abundantly supplied with coffee
and muffin.
When the card tables were placed, he had an opportunity
of obliging her in return, by sitting down to whist.
"I know little of the game, at present," said he, "but I shall
be glad to improve myself, for in my sltuation of life -- -"
Mrs. Philips was very thankful for his compliance, but could
not wait for his reason.
Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and with ready delight
was he received at the other table between Elizabeth and
Lydia.  At first there seemed danger of Lydia's engrossing him
entirely for she was a most determined talker; but being like-
wise extremely fond of lottery tickets, she soon grew too much
interested in the game, too eager in making bets and exclaim-
ing after prizes, to have attention for any one in particular.
Allowing for the common demands of the game, Mr. Wick-
ham was therefore at leisure to talk to Elizabeth, and she was
very willing to hear him, though what she chiefly wished to
hear she could not hope to be told, the history of his acquaint-
ance with Mr. Darcy.  She dared not even mention that
gentleman.  Her curiosity however was unexpectedly relieved.
Mr. Wickham began the subject himself.  He inquired how
far Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her
answer, asked in an hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy
had been staying there.
"About a month," said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let
the subject drop, added, "He is a man of very large property
in Derbyshire, I understand."
"Yes," replied Wickham; -- "his estate there is a noble one.
A clear ten thousand per annum.  You could not have met with
a person more capable of giving you certain information on
that head than myself -- for I have been connected with his
family in a particular manner from my infancy."
Elizabeth could not but look surprised.
"You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an asser-
tion, after seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner
of our meeting yesterday. -- Are you much acquainted with
Mr. Darcy?"
"As much as I ever wish to be," cried Elizabeth warmly, --
"I have spent four days in the same house with him, and I
think him very disagreeable."
 "I have no right to give my opinion," said Wickham, "as to
his being agreeable or otherwise.  I am not qualified to form
one.  I have known him too long and to well to be a fair judge.
It is impossible for me to be impartial.  But I believe your
opinion of him would in general astonish -- and perhaps you
would not express it quite so strongly anywhere else. -- Here
you are in your own family."
"Upon my word I say no more here than I might say in any
house in the neighbourhood, except Netherfield.  He is not
at all liked in Hertfordshire.  Every body is disgusted with his
pride.  You will not find him more favourably spoken of by
any one."
"I cannot pretend to be sorry," said Wickham, after a short
interruption, "that he or that any man should not be estimated
beyond their deserts; but with him I believe it does not often
happen.  The world is blinded by his fortune and consequence,
or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and sees him
only as he chuses to be seen."
"I should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be
an ill-tempered man."  Wickham only shook his head.
"I wonder," said he, at the next opportunity of speaking,
"whether he is likely to be in this country much longer."
"I do not at all know; but I heard nothing of his going away
when I was at Netherfield.  I hope your plans in favour of the
 -- shire will not be affected by his being in the neighbour-
hood."
"Oh!  no -- it is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy.
If he wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go.  We are not on
friendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but
I have no reason for avoiding him but what I might proclaim
to all the world; a sense of very great ill usage, and most pain-
ful regrets at his being what he is.  His father, Miss Bennet, the
late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed,
and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be in com-
pany with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul
by a thousand tender recollections.  His behaviour to myself
has been scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him
any thing and every thing, rather than his disappointing the
hopes and disgracing the memory of his father."
Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and
listened with all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented
farther inquiry.
Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics,
Meryton, the neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly
pleased with all that he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter
especially, with gentle but very intelligible gallantry.
"It was the prospect of constant society, and good society,"
he added, "which was my chief inducement to enter the
 -- shire.  I knew it to be a most respectable, agreeable corps,
and my friend Denny tempted me farther by his account of
their present quarters, and the very great attentions and
excellent acquaintance Meryton had procured them.  Society,
I own, is necessary to me.  I have been a disappointed man, and
my spirits will not bear solitude.  I must have employment and
society.  A military life is not what I was intended for, but
circumstances have now made it eligible.  The church ought
to have been my profession -- I was brought up for the church,
and I should at this time have been in possession of a most
valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we were speak-
ing ofjust now."
"Indeed!"
"Yes -- the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presenta-
tion of the best living in his gift.  He was my godfather, and
excessively attached to me.  I cannot do justice to his kindness.
He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done
it; but when the living fell, it was given elsewhere."
"Good heavens!" cried Elizabeth; "but how could that be?
 -- How could his will be disregarded? -- Why did not you seek
legal redress?"
"There was just such an informality in the terms of the
bequest as to give me no hope from law.  A man of honour
could not have doubted the intention, but Mr. Darcy chose
to doubt it -- or to treat it as a merely conditional recommenda-
tion, and to assert that I had forfeited all claim to it by extra-
vagance, imprudence, in short any thing or nothing.  Certal-n
it is, that the living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I
was of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another man;
and no less certain is it, that I cannot accuse myself of having
really done any thing to deserve to lose it.  I have a warm,
unguarded temper, and I may perhaps have sometimes
spoken my opinion of him, and to him, too freely.  I can recal
nothing worse.  But the fact is, that we are very different sort
of men, and that he hates me."
"This is quite shocking! -- He deserves to be publicly dis-
graced."
"Some time or other he will be -- but it shall not be by me.
Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him."
Elizabeth honoured him for such feelings, and thought him
handsomer than ever as he expressed them.
"But what," said she after a pause "can have been his
motive? -- what can have induced him to behave so cruelly?"
"A thorough, determined dislike of me -- a dislike which I
cannot but attribute in some measure to jealousy.  Had the late
Mr. Darcy liked me less, his son might have borne with me
better; but his father's uncommon attachment to me, irritated
him I believe very early in life.  He had not a temper to bear
the sort of competition in which we stood -- the sort of pre-
ference which was often given me."
"I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this -- though I
have never liked him, I had not thought so very ill of him --
I had supposed him to be despising his fellow-creatures in
general, but did not suspect him of descending to such
malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as this!"
After a few minutes reflection, however, she continued,
"I do remember his boasting one day, at Netherfield, of the
implacability of his resentments, of his having an unforgiving
temper.  His disposition must be dreadful."
"I will not trust myself on the subject," replied Wickham,
"I can hardly be just to him."
Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time
exclaimed, "To treat in such a manner, the godson, the friend,
the favourite of his father!" -- She could have added, "A young
man too, like you, whose very countenance may vouch for
your being amiable' -- but she contented herself with "And
one, too, who had probably been his own companion from
childhood, connected together, as I think you said, in the
closest manner!"
"We were born in the same parish, within the same park,
the greatest part of our youth was passed together; inmates
of the same house, sharing the same amusements, objects of
the same parental care.  My father began life in the profession
which your uncle, Mr. Philips, appears to do so much credit
to -- but he gave up every thing to be of use to the late Mr.
Darcy, and devoted all his time to the care of the Pemberley
property.  He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most
intimate, confidential friend.  Mr. Darcy often acknowledged.
himself to be under the greatest obligations to my father's
active superintendance, and when immediately before my
father's death, Mr. Darcy gave him a voluntary promise of
providing for me, I am convinced that he felt it to be as much
a debt of gratitude to him, as of affection to myself."
"How strange!" cried Elizabeth.  "How abominable! -- I
wonder that the very pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him
just to you! -- If from no better motive, that he should not have
been too proud to be dishonest, -- for dishonesty I must
call it."
"It is wonderful," -- replied Wickham, -- "for almost all his
actions may be traced to pride; -- and pride has often been
his best friend.  It has connected him nearer with virtue than
any other feeling.  But we are none ofus consistent; and in his
behaviour to me, there were stronger impulses even than
pride."
"Can such abominable pride as his, have ever done him
good?"
"Yes.  It has often led him to be liberal and generous, -- to
give his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his
tenants, and relieve the poor.  Family pride, and filial pride,
for he is very proud of what his father was, have done this.
Not to appear to disgrace his family, to degenerate from the
popular qualities, or lose the influence of the Pemberley
House, is a powerful motive.  He has also brotherly pride,
which with some brotherly affection, makes him a very kind
and careful guardian of his sister; and you will hear him
generally cried up as the most attentive and best of brothers."
"What sort of a girl is Miss Darcy,?"
He shook his head. -- "I wish I could call her amiable.  It
gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy.  But she is too much like
her brother, -- very, very proud. -- As a child, she was affec-
tionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I have
devoted hours and hours to her amusement.  But she is
nothing to me now.  She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or
sixteen, and I understand highly accomplished.  Since her
father's death, her home has been London, where a lady lives
with her, and superintends her education."
After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Eliza-
beth could not help reverting once more to the first, and
saying,
"I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley!  How
can Mr. Bingley, who seems good humour itself, and is, I
really believe, truly amiable, be in friendship with such a
man?  How can they suit each other? -- Do you know Mr.
Bingley?"
"Not at all."
"He is a sweet tempered, amiable, charming man.  He can-
not know what Mr. Darcy is."
"Probably not; -- but Mr. Darcy can please where he chuses.
he does not want abilities.  He can be a conversible companion
if he thinks it worth his while.  Among those who are at all his
equals in consequence, he is a very different man from what
he is to the less prosperous.  His pride never deserts him; but
with the rich, he is liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational,
honourable, and perhaps agreeable, -- allowing something for
fortune and figure."
The whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players
athered round the other table, and Mr. Collins took his
station between his cousin Elizabeth and Mrs. Philips. -- The
usual inquiries as to his success were made by the latter.  It
had not been very great; he had lost every point; but when
Mrs. Philips began to express her concern thereupon, he
assured her with much earnest gravity that it was not of the
least importance, that he considered the money as a mere
trifle, and begged she would not make herself uneasy.
"I know very well, madam," said he, "that when persons sit
down to a card table, they must take their chance of these
things, -- and happily I am not in such circumstances as to
make five shillings any object.  There are undoubtedly many
who could not say the same, but thanks to Lady Catherine de
Bourgh, I am removed far beyond the necessity of regarding
little matters."
Mr. Wickham's attention was caught; and after observing
Mr. Collins for a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low
voice whether her relation were very intimately acquainted
with the family of de Bourgh.
"Lady Catherine de Bourgh," she replied, "has very lately
given him a living.  I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first
introduced to her notice, but he certainly has not known
her long."
"You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and
Lady Anne Darcy were sisters; consequently that she is aunt
to the present Mr. Darcy."
"No, indeed, I did not. -- I knew nothing at all of Lady
.. <catherine"s connections.  I never heard of her existence till
the day before yesterday."
"Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large
fortune, and it is believed that she and her cousin will unite
the two estates."
This information made Elizabeth smile, as she thought
of poor Miss Bingley.  Vain indeed must be all her
attentions, vain and useless her affection for his sister and
her praise of himself, if he were already self-destined to
another.
"Mr. Collins," said she, "speaks highly both of Lady
.. <catherine and her daughter; but from some particulars that
he has related of her ladyship, I suspect his gratitude misleads
him, and that in spite of her being his patroness, she is an
arrogant conceited woman."
"I believe her to be both in a great degree," replied Wickham;
"I have not seen her for many years, but I very well remember
that I never liked her, and that her manners were dictatorial
and insolent.  She has the reputation of being remarkably
sensible and clever: but I rather believe she derives part of
her abilities from her rank and fortune, part from her autho-
ritative manner, and the rest from the pride of her nephew,
who chuses that every one connected with him should have
an understanding of the first class."
Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very rational account
of it, and they continued talking together with mutual satis --
faction till supper put an end to cards; and gave the rest of
the ladies their share of Mr. Wickham's attentions.  There
could be no conversation in the noise of Mrs. Philips's supper
party, but his manners recommended him to every body.
Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done
gracefully.  Elizabeth went away with her head full of him.
She could think of nothing but of Mr. Wickham, and of what
he had told her, all the way home; but there was not time for
her even to mention his name as they went, for neither Lydia
nor Mr. Collins were once silent.  Lydia talked incessantly of
lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and the fish she had
won, and Mr. Collins, in describing the civility of Mr. and
Mrs. Philips, protesting that he did not in the least regard his
losses at whist, enumerating all the dishes at supper, and
repeatedly fearing that he crouded his cousins, had more to
say than he could well manage before the carriage stopped at
Longbourn House.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                        vol. 1

                       chapter 17


ELIZABETH related to Jane the next day, what had passed
between Mr. Wickham and herself.  Jane listened with astonish-
ment and concern; -- she knew not how to believe that Mr.
Darcy could be so unworthy of Mr. Bingley's regard; and yet,
it was not in her nature to question the veracity of a young
man of such amiable appearance as Wickham. -- The possi-
bility of his having really endured such unkindness, was
enough to interest all her tender feelings; and nothing there-
fore remained to be done, but to think well of them both,
to defend the conduct of each, and throw into the account
of accident or mistake, whatever could not be otherwise
explained.
"They have both," said she, "been deceived, I dare say, in
some way or other, of which we can form no idea.  Interested
people have perhaps misrepresented each to the other, It is,
in short, impossible for us to conjecture the causes or circum-
stances which may have alienated them, without actual blame
on either side."
"Very true, indeed; -- and now, my dear Jane, what have
you got to say in behalf of the interested people who have
probably been concerned in the business? -- Do clear them
too, or we shall be obliged to think ill of somebody."
"Laugh as much as you chuse, but you will not laugh me
out of my opinion.  My dearest Lizzy, do but consider in what
a disgraceful light it places Mr. Darcy, to be treating his
father's favourite in such a manner, -- one, whom his father
had promised to provide for. -- It is impossible.  No man of
common humanity, no man who had any value for his charac-
ter, could be capable of it.  Can his most intimate friends be so
excessively deceived in him?  oh!  no."
"I can much more easily believe Mr. Bingley's being
imposed on, than that Mr. Wickham should invent such a
history of himself as he gave me last night; names, facts,
every thing mentioned without ceremony. -- If it be not so,
let Mr. Darcy contradict it.  Besides, there was truth in his
looks."
"It is difficult indeed -- it is distressing. -- One does not know
what to think."
"I beg your pardon; -- one knows exactly what to think."
But Jane could think with certainty on only one point, --
that Mr. Bingley, if he had been imposed on, would have
much to suffer when the affair became public.
The two young ladies were summoned from the shrubbery
where this conversation passed, by the arrival of some of the
very persons of whom they had been speaking; Mr. Bingley
and his sisters came to give their personal invitation for the
long expected ball at Netherfield, which was fixed for the
following Tuesday.  The two ladies were delighted to see their
dear friend again, called it an age since they had met, and
repeatedly asked what she had been doing with herself since
their separation.  To the rest of the family they paid little
attention; avoiding Mrs. Bennet as much as possible, saying
not much to Elizabeth, and nothing at all to the others.  They
were soon gone again, rising from their seats with an activity
which took their brother by surprise, and hurrying off as if
eager to escape from Mrs. Bennet's civilities.
The prospect ofthe Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable
to every female of the family.  Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it
as given in compliment to her eldest daughter, and was parti-
cularly flattered by receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley
himself, instead of a ceremonious card, Jane pictured to herself
a happy evening in the society of her two friends, and the atten-
tion of their brother; and Elizabeth thought with pleasure of
dancing a great deal with Mr. Wickham, and of seeing a con-
fimation of every thing in Mr. Darcy's looks and behaviour.
The happiness anticipated by Catherine and Lydia, depended
less on any single event, or any particular person, for though
they each, like Elizabeth, meant to dance half the evening with
Mr. Wickham, he was by no means the only partner who could
satisfy them, and a ball was at any rate, a ball.  And even Mary
could assure her family that she had no disinclination for it.
"While I can have my mornings to myself," said she, "it is
enough. -- I think it no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening
engagements.  Society has claims on us all; and I profess my-
self one of those who consider intervals of recreation and
amusement as desirable for every body."
Elizabeth's spirits were so high on the occasion, that though
she did not often speak unnecessarily to Mr. Collins, she could
not help asking him whether he intended to accept Mr,
Bingley's invitation, and if he did, whether he would think
it proper to join in the evening's amusement; and she was
rather surprised to find that he entertained no scruple what-
ever on that head, and was very far from dreading a rebuke
either from the Archbishop, or Lady Catherine de Bourgh,
by venturing to dance.
"I am by no means of opinion, I assure you," said he, "that
a ball of this kind, given by a young man of character, to
respectable people, can have any evil tendency; and I am so
far from objecting to dancing myself that I shall hope to be
honoured with the hands of all my fair cousins in the course
of the evening, and I take this opportunity of soliciting yours,
Miss Elizabeth, for the two first dances especially, -- a pre-
ference which I trust my cousin Jane will attribute to the right
cause, and not to any disrespect for her."
Elizabeth felt herself completely taken in.  She had fully
proposed being engaged by Wickham for those very dances:
 -- and to have Mr. Collins instead!  her liveliness had been
never worse timed.  There was no help for it however.  Mr.
Wickham's happiness and her own was per force delayed a
little longer, and Mr. Collins's proposal accepted with as good
a grace as she could.  She was not the better pleased with his
gallantry, from the idea it suggested of something more. -- It
now first struck her, that she was selected from among her
sisters as worthy of being the mistress of Hunsford Parsonage,
and of assisting to form a quadrille table at Rosings, in the
absence of more eligible visitors.  The idea soon reached to
conviction, as she observed his increasing civilities toward
herself, and heard his frequent attempt at a compliment on
her wit and vivacity; and though more astonished than
gratified herself, by this effect of her charms, it was not long
before her mother gave her to understand that the probability
of their marriage was exceedingly agreeable to her.  Elizabeth
however did not chuse to take the hint, being well aware that
a serious dispute must be the consequence of any reply.  Mr.
.. <collins might never make the offer, and till he did, it was use-
less to quarrel about him.
If there had not been a Netherfield ball to prepare for and
talk of, the younger Miss Bennets would have been in a
pitiable state at this time, for from the day of the invitation,
to the day of the ball, there was such a succession of rain as
prevented their walking to Meryton once.  No aunt, no
officers, no news could be sought after; -- the very shoe-roses
for Netherfield were got by proxy.  Even Elizabeth might have
found some trial of her patience in weather, which totally
suspended the improvement of her acquaintance with Mr,
Wickham; and nothing less than a dance on Tuesday, could
have made such a Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday,
endurable to Kitty and Lydia.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                       vol. 1

                      chapter 18


TILL Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield
and looked in vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of
red coats there assembled, a doubt of his being present had
never occurred to her.  The certainty of meeting him had not
been checked by any of those recollections that might not un-
reasonably have alarmed her.  She had dressed with more than
usual care, and prepared in the highest spirits for the conquest
of all that remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it
was not more than might be won in the course of the evening.
But in an instant arose the dreadful suspicion of his being
purposely omitted for Mr. Darcy's pleasure in the Bingleys"
invitation to the officers; and though this was not exactly the
case the absolute fact of his absence was pronounced by his
friend Mr. Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied, and who
told them that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on
business the day before, and was not yet returned; adding,
with a significant smile,
"I do not imagine his business would have called him away
just now, if he had not wished to avoid a certain gentle-
man here."
This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was
caught by Elizabeth, and as it assured her that Darcy was not
less answerable for Wickham's absence than if her first sur-
mise had been just, every feeling of displeasure against the
former was so sharpened by immediate disappointment, that
she could hardly reply with tolerable civility to the polite
inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make.
 -- Attention, forbearance, patience with Darcy, was injury to
Wickham.  She was resolved against any sort of conversation
with him, and turned away with a degree of ill humour, which
she could not wholly surmount even in speaking to Mr.
Bingley, whose blind partiality provoked her.
But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour; and though
every prospect of her own was destroyed for the evening, it
could not dwell long on her spirits; and having told all her
griefs to Charlotte Lucas, whom she had not seen for a week,
she was soon able to make a voluntary transition to the oddities
of her cousin, and to point him out to her particular notice
The two first dances, however, brought a return of distress;
they were dances of mortification.  Mr. Collins, awkward and
solemn, apologising instead of attending, and often moving
wrong without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and
misery which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances
can give.  The moment of her release from him was exstacy.
She danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment
of talking of Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally
liked.  When those dances were over she returned to Charlotte
Lucas, and was in conversation with her, when she found her-
self suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy, who took her so much
by surprise in his application for her hand, that, without
knowing what she did, she accepted him.  He walked away
again immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want
of presence of mind; Charlotte tried to console her.
"I dare say you will find him very agreeable."
"Heaven forbid! -- That would be the greatest misfortune
of all! -- To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to
hate! -- Do not wish me such an evil."
When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy
approached to claim her hand, Charlotte could not help
cautioning her in a whisper not to be a simpleton and allow
her fancy for Wickham to make her appear unpleasant in the
eyes of a man of ten times his consequence.  Elizabeth made
no answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity
to which she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite
to Mr. Darcy, and reading in her neighbours' looks their
equal amazement in beholding it.  They stood for some time
without speaking a word; and she began to imagine that their
silence was to last through the two dances, and at first was
resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would
be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to
talk, she made some slight observation on the dance.  He
replied, and was again silent.  After a pause of some minutes
second time with
"It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. -- I talked
about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark
on the size of the room, or the number of couples."
He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him
to say should be said.
"Very well. -- That reply will do for the present. --
.. <perhaps by and bye I may observe that private balls are
much pleasanter than public ones. -- But now we may be
silent."
"Do you talk by rule then, while you are dancing?"
"Sometimes.  One must speak a little, you know.  It would
look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together, and
yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so
arranged as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as
as posslble.
 "Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case,
or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?"
"Both," replied Elizabeth archly; "for I have always seen a
great similarity in the tum of our minds. -- We are each of an
unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we
expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and
be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb."
"This is no very striking resemblance of your own charac-
ter, I am sure," said he.  "How near it may be to mine, I cannot
pretend to say. -- You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly."
"I must not decide on my own performance."
He made no answer, and they were again silent till they
had gone down the dance, when he asked her if she and her
sisters did not very often walk to Meryton.  She answered in
the affirmative, and, unable to resist the temptation, added,
"When you met us there the other day, we had just been form-
ing a new acquaintance."
The effect was immediate.  A deeper shade of hauteur over-
spread his features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth,
though blaming herself for her own weakness, could not go on.
At length Darcy spoke, and in a constrained manner said,
"Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may
ensure his making friends -- whether he may be equally capable
of retaining them, is less certain."
"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," replied
Elizabeth with emphasis, "and in a manner which he is likely
to suffer from all his life."
Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing
the subject.  At that moment Sir William Lucas appeared close
to them, meaning to pass through the set to the other side of
the room; but on perceiving Mr. Darcy he stopt with a bow of
superior courtesy to compliment him on his dancing and his
partner.
"I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear Sir.  Such
very superior dancing is not often seen.  It is evident that you
belong to the first circles.  Allow me to say, however, that your
fair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to
have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain
desirable event, my dear Miss Eliza, (glancing at her sister
and Bingley,) shall take place.  What congratulations will then
flow in!  I appeal to Mr. Darcy: -- but let me not interrupt you,
Sir. -- You will not thank me for detaining you from the
bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes
are also upbraiding me."
The latter part of this address was scarcely, heard by Darcy;
but Sir William's allusion to his friend seemed to strike him
forcibly, and his eyes were directed with a very serious expres-
sion towards Bingley and Jane, who were dancing together.
Recovering himself, however, shortly, he turned to his partner,
and said,
"Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we
were talking of."
"I do not think we were speaking at all.  Sir William could
not have interrupted any two people in the room who had less
to say for themselves. -- We have tried two or three subjects
already without success, and what we are to talk of next I can-
not imagine."
"What think you of books?" said he, smiling.
"Books -- Oh!  no. -- I am sure we never read the same, or
not with the same feelings."
"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can
at least be no want of subject. -- We may compare our different
opinions."
"No -- I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is
always full of something else."
"The present always occupies you in such scenes -- does it?"
said he, with a look of doubt.
"Yes, always," she replied, without knowing what she
said, for her thoughts had wandered far from the subject,
as soon afterwards appeared by her suddenly exclaiming,
"I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you
hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was
unappeasable.  You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its
being created."
"I am ' said he, with a firm voice.
"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"
"I hope not."
"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change
their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first."
"May I ask to what these questions tend?"
"Merely to the illustration of your character," said she,
endeavouring to shake off her gravity.  "I am trying to make
it out."
"And what is your success?"
She shook her head.  "I do not get on at all.  I hear such dif-
ferent accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."
"I can readily believe," answered he gravely, "that report
may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss
Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present
moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would
reflect no credit on either."
"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have
another opportunity."
"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours," he
coldly replied.  She said no more, and they went down the
other dance and parted in silence; on each side dissatisfied,
though not to an equal degree, for in Darcy's breast there was
a tolerable powerful feeling towards her, which soon procured
her pardon, and directed all his anger against another.
They had not long separated when Miss Bingley came
towards her, and with an expression of civil disdain thus
accosted her,
"So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with George
Wickham! -- Your sister has been talking to me about him,
and asking me a thousand questions; and I find that the young
man forgot to tell you, among his other communications, that
he was the son of old Wickham, the late Mr. Darcy's steward.
Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, not to give
implicit confidence to all his assertions; for as to Mr. Darcy's
using him ill, it is perfectly false; for, on the contrary, he has
been always remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham
has treated Mr. Darcy, in a most infamous manner.  I do not
know the particulars, but I know very well that Mr. Darcy
is not in the least to blame, that he cannot bear to hear George
Wickham mentioned, and that though my brother thought he
could not well avoid including him in his invitation to the
officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had taken him-
self out of the way.  His coming into the country at all, is a
most insolent thing indeed, and I wonder how he could pre-
sume to do it.  I pity you, Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your
not expect much better."
"His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the
same," said Elizabeth angrily; "for I have heard you accuse
him of nothing worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's
steward, and of that, I can assure you, he informed me himself."
"I beg your pardon," replied Miss Bingley, turning away
with a sneer.  "Excuse my interference. -- It was kindly meant."
"Insolent girl!" said Elizabeth to herself. -- "You are much
mistaken if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack
as this.  I see nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and
the malice of Mr. Darcy."  She then sought her eldest sister,
who had undertaken to make inquiries on the same subject of
Blngley.  Jane met her with a smile of such sweet complacency,
a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently marked how
well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evenin --
Elizabeth instantly read her feelings, and at that moment
solicitude for Wickham, resentment against his enemies and
every thing else gave way before the hope of Jane's being in
the fairest way for happiness.
"I want to know," said she, with a countenance no less
smiling than her sister's, "what you have learnt about Mr.
Wickham.  But perhaps you have been too pleasantly engaged
my pardon.
"No," replied Jane, "I have not forgotten him; but I have
notjing satisfactory to tell you.  Mr. Bingley does not know
the whole of his history, and is quite ignorant of the circum-
stances which have principally offended Mr. Darcy; but he
will vouch for the good conduct, the probity and honour of
his friend, and is perfectly convinced that Mr. Wickham has
deserved much less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has
received; and I am sorry to say that by his account as well as
his sister's, Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young
man.  I am afraid he has been very imprudent, and has deserved
to lose Mr. Darcy's regard."
"Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?"
"No; he never saw him fill the other morning at Meryton."
"This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy.
I am perfectly satisfied.  But what does he say of the living?"
"He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though
he has heard them from Mr. Darcy more than once, but he
believes that it was left to him conditionally only."
"I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity," said Eliza-
beth warmly; "but you must excuse my not being convinced
by assurances only.  Mr. Bingley's defence of his friend-was a
very able one I dare say, but since he is unacquainted with
several parts of the story, and has learnt the rest from that
friend himself, I shall venture still to think of both gentlemen
as I did before."
She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to
each, and on which there could be no difference of sentiment.
Elizabeth listened with delight to the happy, though modest
hopes which Jane entertained of Bingley's regard, and said all
in her power to heighten her confidence in it.  On their being
joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew to Miss
Lucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her last
partner she had scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins came up
to them and told her with great exultation that he had just
been so fortunate as to make a most important discovery.
"I have found out," said he, "by a singular accident, that
there is now in the room a near relation of my patroness.  I
happened to overhear the gentleman himself mentioning to
the young lady who does the honours of this house the names
of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother Lady
.. <catherine.  How wonderfully these sort of things occur!  Who
would have thought of my meeting with -- perhaps -- a nephew
of Lady Catherine de Bourgh in this assembly! -- I am most
thankful that the discovery is made in time for me to pay my
respects to him, which I am now going to do, and trust he will
excuse my not having done it before.  My total ignorance of the
connection must plead my apology."
"You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy?"
"Indeed I am.  I shall intreat his pardon for not having done
it earlier.  I believe him to be Lady Catherine's nephew.  It will
be in my power to assure him that her ladyship was quite well
yesterday se'nnight."
Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme;
assuring him that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing
him without introduction as an impertinent freedom, rather
than a compliment to his aunt; that it was not in the least
necessary there should be any notice on either side, and that if
it were, it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior in conse-
quence, to begin the acquaintance. -- Mr. Collins listened to
her with the determined air of following his own inclination
and when she ceased speaking, replied thus,
"My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the
world of your excellent judgment in all matters within the
scope of your understanding, but permit me to say that there
must be a wide difference between the established forms of
ceremony amongst the laity, and those which regulate the
clergy; for give me leave to observe that I consider the clerical
office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank in the
kingdom -- provided that a proper humility of behaviour is at
the same time maintained.  You must therefore allow me to
follow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which
leads me to perform what I look on as a point of duty.  Pardon
me for neglecting to profit by your advice, which on every other
subject shall be my constant guide, though in the case before
us I consider myself more fitted by education and habitual
study to decide on what is right than a young lady like your-
self."  And with a low bow he left her to attack Mr. Darcy,
whose reception of his advances she eagerly watched, and
whose astonishment at being so addressed was very evident.
Her cousin prefaced his speech with a solemn bow, and though
she could not hear a word of it, she felt as if hearing it all, and
saw in the motion of his lips the words 'apology," 'Hunsford,"
and 'Lady Catherine de Bourgh." -- It vexed her to see him
expose himself to such a man.  Mr. Darcy was eyeing him with
unrestrained wonder, and when at last Mr. Collins allowed
him time to speak, replied with an air of distant civility.  Mr.
.. <collins, however, was not discouraged from speaking again,
and Mr. Darcy's contempt seemed abundantly increasing with
the length of his second speech, and at the end of it he only
made him a slight bow, and moved another way.  Mr. Collins
then returned to Elizabeth.
"I have no reason, I assure you," said he, "to be dissatisfied
with my reception.  Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with the
attention.  He answered me with the utmost civility, and even
paid me the compliment of saying, that he was so well con-
vinced of Lady Catherine's discernment as to be certain she
could never bestow a favour unworthily.  It was really a very
handsome thought.  Upon the whole, I am much pleased
with him."
As Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her own to
pursue, she turned her attention almost entirely on her sister
and Mr. Bingley, and the train of agreeable reflections which
her observations gave birth to, made her perhaps almost as
happy as Jane.  She saw her in idea settled in that very house
in all the felicity which a marriage of true affection could
bestow; and she felt capable under such circumstances, of
endeavouring even to like Bingley's two sisters.  Her mother's
thoughts she plainly saw were bent the same way, and she
determined not to venture near her, lest she might hear too
much.  When they sat down to supper, therefore, she con -- "
sidered it a most unlucky perverseness which placed them
within one of each other; and deeply was she vexed to find
that her mother was talking to that one person (Lady Lucas)
freely, openly, and of nothing else but of her expectation that
Jane would be soon married to Mr. Bingley. -- It was an
animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet seemed incapable of
fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match.  His
being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living
but three miles from them, were the first points of self-
gratulation; and then it was such a comfort to think how fond
the two sisters were of Jane, and to be certain that they must
desire the connection as much as she could do.  It was, more-
over, such a promising thing for her younger daughters, as
Jane's marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of
other rich men; and lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life
to be able to consign her single daughters to the care of their
sister, that she might not be obliged to go into company more
than she liked.  It was necessary to make this circumstance a
matter of pleasure, because on such occasions it is the etiquette -
but no one was less likely than Mrs. Bennet to find comfort in
staying at home at any period of her life.  She concluded with
many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally
fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there
was no chance of it.
In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her
mother's words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a
less audible whisper; for to her inexpressible vexation she
could perceive that the chief of it was overheard by Mr.
Darcy, who sat opposite to them.  Her mother only scolded her
for being nonsensical.
"What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of
him?  I am sure we owe him no such particular civility as to
be obliged to say nothing he may not like to hear."
"For heaven's sake, madam, speak lower. -- What advantage
can it be to you to offend Mr. Darcy? -- You will never recom-
mend yourself to his friend by so doing."
Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence.
Her mother would talk of her views in the same intelligible
tone.  Elizabeth blushed and blushed again with shame and
vexation.  She could not help frequently glancing her eye at
Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what she
dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother,
she was convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by
her.  The expression of his face changed gradually from
indignant contempt to a composed and steady gravity.
At length however Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and
Lady Lucas, who had been long yawning at the repetition of
delights which she saw no likelihood of sharing, was left to
the comforts of cold ham and chicken.  Elizabeth now began
to revive.  But not long was the interval of tranquillity; for
when supper was over, singing was talked of, and she had the
mortification of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty, pre-
paring to oblige the company.  By many significant looks and
silent entreaties, did she endeavour to prevent such a proof
of complaisance, -- but in vain; Mary would not understand
them; such an opportunity of exhibiting was delightful to her,
and she began her song.  Elizabeth's eyes were fixed on her
with most painful sensations; and she watched her progress
through the several stanzas with an impatience which was very
ill rewarded at their close; for Mary, on receiving amongst the
thanks of the table, the hint of a hope that she might be pre-
vailed on to favour them again, after the pause of half a
minute began another.  Mary's powers were by no means
fitted for such a display; her voice was weak, and her manner
affected. -- Elizabeth was in agonies.  She looked at Jane, to
see how she bore it; but Jane was very composedly talking to
Bingley.  She looked at his two sisters, and saw them making
signs of derision at each other, and at Darcy, who continued
however impenetrably grave.  She looked at her father to
entreat his interference, lest Mary should be singing all night.
He took the hint, and when Mary had finished her second
song, said aloud,
"That will do extremely well, child.  You have delighted
us long enough.  Let the other young ladies have time to
exhibit."
Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat
disconcerted; and Elizabeth sorry for her, and sorry for her
father's speech, was afraid her anxiety had done no good. --
Others of the party were now applied to.
"If I," said Mr. Collins, "were so fortunate as to be able to
sing, I should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the
company with an air; for I consider music as a very innocent
diversion, and perfectly compatible with the profession of a
clergyman. -- I do not mean however to assert that we can
be justified in devoting too much of our time to
there are certainly other things to be attended to.  The rector
of a parish has much to do. -- In the first place, he must make
such a agreement for tythes as may be beneficial to himself
and not offensive to his patron.  He must write his own ser-
mons; and the time that remains will not be too much for his
parish duties, and the care and improvement of his dwelling,
which he cannot be excused from making as comfortable as
possible.  And I do not think it of light importance that he
should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards every
body, especially towards those to whom he owes his prefer-
ment.  I cannot acquit him of that duty; nor could I think well
of the man who should omit an occasion of testifying his
respect towards any body connected with the family."  And
with a bow to Mr. Darcy, he concluded his speech, which had
been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room. -- Many
stared. -- Many smiled; but no one looked more amused than
Mr. Bennet himself, while his wife seriously commended
Mr. Collins for having spoken so sensibly, and observed in a
half-whisper to Lady Lucas, that he was a remarkably clever,
good kind of young man.
To Elizabeth it appeared, that had her family made an
agreement to expose themselves as much as they could during
the evening, it would have been impossible for them to play
their parts with more spirit, or finer success; and happy did
she think it for Bingley and her sister that some of the exhibi-
tion had escaped his notice, and that his feelings were not of
a sort to be much distressed by the folly which he must have
witnessed.  That his two sisters and Mr. Darcy, however,
should have such an opportunity of ridiculing her relations
was bad enough, and she could not determine whether the
silent contempt of the gentleman, or the insolent smiles of
the ladies, were more intolerable.
The rest of the evening brought her little amusement.  She
was teazed by Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly
by her side, and though he could not prevail with her to dance
with him again, put it out of her power to dance with others,
In vain did she entreat him to stand up with somebody else,
and offer to introduce him to any young lady in the room.  He
assured her that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent to
it; that his chief object was by delicate attentions to recom-
mend himselfto her, and that he should therefore make a point
of remaining close to her the whole evening.  There was no
arguing upon such a project.  She owed her greatest relief to
her friend Miss Lucas, who often joined them, and good-
naturedly engaged Mr. Collins's conversation to herself.
She was at least free from the offence of Mr. Darcy's farther
notice; though often standing within a very short distance of
her, quite disengaged, he never came near enough to speak,
She felt it to be the probable consequence of her allusions to
Mr. Wickham, and rejoiced in it.
 The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to
depart; and by a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet had to wait for
their carriages a quarter of an hour after every body else was
gone, which gave them time to see how heartily they were
wished away by some of the family.  Mrs. Hurst and her sister
scarcely opened their mouths except to complain of fatigue,
and were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves.
They repulsed every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation,
and by so doing, threw a languor over the whole party, which
was very little relieved by the long speeches of Mr. Collins,
who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and his sisters on the
elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and polite-
ness which had marked their behaviour to their guests.  Darcy
said nothing at all.  Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying
the scene.  Mr. Bingley and Jane were standing together, a
little detached from the rest, and talked only to each other.
Elizabeth preserved as steady a silence as either Mrs. Hurst
or Miss Bingley; and even lydia was to much fatigued to
utter more than the occasional exclaimation of "Lord how tired
I am!" accompanied by a violent yawn.
When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was
most pressingly civil in her hope of seeing the whole family
soon at Longbourn; and addressed herself particularly to
Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy he would make them,
by eating a family dinner with them at any time, without the
ceremony of a formal invitation.  Bingley was all grateful
pleasure, and he readily engaged for taking the earliest
opportunity of waiting on her, after his return from London,
whither he was obliged to go the next day for a short time.
Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied; and quitted the house
under the delightful persuasion that, allowing for the neces-
sary preparations of settlements, new carriages and wedding
clothes, she should undoubtedly see her daughter settled at
Netherfield, in the course of three or four months.  Of having
another daughter married to Mr. Collins, she thought with
equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal,
pleasure.  Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children;
and though the man and the match were quite good enough for
her, the worth of each was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and
Netherfield.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                       vol. 1

                      chapter 19


THE next day opened a new scene at Longbourn.  Mr. Colllns
made his declaration in form.  Having resolved to do it without
loss of time, as his leave of absence extended only to the
following Saturday, and having no feelings of diffidence to
make it distressing to himself even at the moment, he set
about it in a very orderly manner, with all the observances
which he supposed a regular part of the business.  On finding
Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and one of the younger girls together
soon after breakfast, he addressed the mother in these words,
"May I hope, Madam, for your interest with your fair
daughter Elizabeth, when I solicit for the honour of a private
audience with her in the course of this morning?"
Before Elizabeth had time for any thing but a blush of sur-
prise, Mrs. Bennet instantly answered,
"Oh dear! -- Yes -- certainly. -- I am sure Lizzy will be very
happy -- I am sure she can have no objection. -- Come, Kitty,
I want you up stairs."  And gathering her work together, she
was hastening away, when Elizabeth called out,
"Dear Ma'am, do not go. -- I beg you will not go. -- Mr.
.. <collins must excuse me. -- He can have nothing to say to me
that any body need not hear.  I am going away myself."
"No, no, nonsense, Lizzy. -- I desire you will stay where
you are." -- And upon Elizabeth's seeming really, with vexed
and embarrassed looks, about to escape, she added, "Lizzy,
I insist upon your staying and hearing Mr. Collins."
Elizabeth would not oppose such an injunction -- and a
moment's consideration making her also sensible that it would
be wisest to get it over as soon and as quietly as possible, she
sat down again, and tried to conceal by incessant employment
the feelings which were divided between distress and diver-
sion.  Mrs. Bennet and Kitty walked off, and as soon as they
were gone Mr. Collins began.
"Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty,
so far from doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other
perfections.  You would have been less amiable in my eyes had
there not been this little unwillingness; but allow me to assure
you that I have your respected mother's permission for this
address.  You can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse,
however your natural delicacy may lead you to dissemble;
my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken.  Almost
as soon as I entered the house I singled you out as the com-
panion of my future life.  But before I am run away with by my
feelings on this subject, perhaps it will be advisable for me to
state my reasons for marrying -- and moreover for coming
into Hertfordshire with the design of selecting a wife, as I
certainly did."
The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure,
being run away with by his feelings, made Elizabeth so near
laughing that she could not use the short pause he allowed in
any attempt to stop him farther, and he continued:
"My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right
thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself)
to set the example of matrimony in his parish.  Secondly, that
I am convinced it will add very greatly to my happiness; and
thirdly -- which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier,
that it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very
noble lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness.
Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion (unasked
too!) on this subject; and it was but the very Saturday night
before I left Hunsford -- between our pools at quadrille, while
Mrs. Jenkinson was arranging Miss de Bourgh's foot-stool,
that she said, ""Mr. Collins, you must marry.  A clergyman
like you must marry. -- Chuse properly, chuse a gentlewoman
for my sake; and for your own, let her be an active, useful sort
of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small
income go a good way.  This is my advice.  Find such a woman
as soon as you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her.""
Allow me, by the way, to observe, my fair cousin, that I do
not reckon the notice and kindness of Lady Catherine de
Bourgh as among the least of the advantages in my power to
offer.  You will find her manners beyond any thing I can
describe; and your wit and vivacity I think must be acceptable
to her, especially when tempered with the silence and respect
which her rank will inevitably excite.  Thus much for my
general intention in favour of matrimony; it remains to be
told why my views were directed to Longbourn instead of my
own neighbourhood, where I assure you there are many
amiable young women.  But the fact is, that being, as I am, to
inherit this estate after the death of your honoured father,
(who, however, may live many years longer,) I could not
satisfy myself without resolving to chuse a wife from among
his daughters, that the loss to them might be as little as pos-
sible, when the melancholy event takes place -- which, how-
ever, as I have already said, may not be for several years.  This
has been my motive, my fair cousin, and I flatter myself it will
not sink me in your esteem.  And now nothing remains-for me
but to assure you in the most animated language of the
violence of my affection.  To fortune I am perfectly indifferent,
and shall make no demand of that nature on your father, since
I am well aware that it could not be complied with; and that
one thousand pounds in the 4 per cents.  which will not be
yours till after your mother's decease, is all that you may ever
be entitled to.  On that head, therefore, I shall be uniformly
silent; and you may assure yourself that no ungenerous
reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married."
It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now.
"You are too hasty, Sir," she cried.  "You forget that I have
made no answer.  Let me do it without farther loss of time.
Accept my thanks for the compliment you are paying me,
I am very sensible of the honour of your proposals, but it is
impossible for me to do otherwise than decline them."
"I am not now to learn," replied Mr. Collins, with a formal
wave of the hand, "that it is usual with young ladies to reject
the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept,
when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the
refusal is repeated a second or even a third time.  I am there-
fore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and
shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long."
"Upon my word, Sir," cried Elizabeth, "your hope is rather
an extraordinary one after my declaration.  I do assure you that
I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there
are) who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance
of being asked a second time.  I am perfectly serious in my
refusal. -- You could not make me happy, and I am convinced
that I am the last woman in the world who would make you so,
 -- Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I am
persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for
the situation."
"Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so ' said
Mr. Collins very gravely -- "but I cannot imagine that her lady-
ship would at all disapprove of you.  And you may be certain
that when I have the honour of seeing her again I shall speak
in the highest terms of your modesty, economy, and other
amiable qualifications."
"Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary.
You must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the
compliment of believing what I say.  I wish you very happy
and very rich, and by refusing your hand, do all in my power
to prevent your being otherwise.  In making me the offer, you
must have satisfied the delicacy of your feelings with regard
to my family, and may take possession of Longbourn estate
whenever it falls, without any self-reproach.  This matter may
be considered, therefore, as finally settled."  And rising as she
thus spoke, she would have quitted the room, had not Mr.
.. <collins thus addressed her,
"When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on
this 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 estab-
lished custom of your sex to reject a man on the first applica-
tion, and perhaps you have even now said as much to encourage
my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the
female character."
"Really, Mr. Collins," cried Elizabeth with some warmth,
"you puzzle me exceedingly.  If what I have hitherto said can
appear to you in the form of encouragement, I know not how
to express my refusal in such a way as may convince you of its
being one."
"You must give me leave to flatter myself my dear cousin
that your refusal of my addresses is merely words of course.
My reasons for believing it are briefly these: -- It does not
appear to me that my hand is unworthy your acceptance, or
that the establishment I can offer would be any other than
highly desirable.  My situation in life, my connections with
the family of De Bourgh, and my relationship to your own,
it into farther 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 chuse to attribute it to your wish ofi ncreasing my
love by suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant
females."
"I do assure you, Sir, that I have no pretension whatever
to that kind of elegance which consists in tormenting a respect-
able 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 with-
drew; 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.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                       vol. 1

                      chapter 20


MR.  COLLINS was not left long to the silent contemplation
of his successful 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
received and returned these felicitations with equal pleasure,
and then proceeded 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 stedfastly
given him would naturally flow from her bashful modest"
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 ro-
posals, but she dared not to believe it, and could not help
saying so.
"But depend upon it, Mr. Collins," she added, "that Lizzy
shall be brought to reason.  I will 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 altogether be a very desirable wife to
a man in my situation, who naturally looks for happiness in the
marriage state.  If therefore she actually persists in rejecting
my suit, perhaps it were better not to force her into accept-
ing 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 every thing 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 hope-
less business."
"Speak to Lizzy about it yourself.  Tell her that you insist
upon her marrying him."
"Let her be called down.  She shall hear my opinion."
Mrs. Bennet rang the bell, and Miss Elizabeth was sum-
moned to the library.
"Come here, child," cried her father as she appeared.  "I have
sent for you on an affair ofimportance.  I understand that Mr.
.. <collins has made you an offer of marriage.  Is it true?"  Eliza-
beth 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 not it 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 playful 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 com-
prehend 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 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 unconcerned as may be, and caring no more for us than if
we were at York, provided she can have her own way. -- But
I tell you what, Miss Lizzy, if you take it into your head to go
on refusing every offer of marriage in this way, you will never
get a husband at all -- and I am sure I do not know who is to
maintain you when your father is dead. -- I shall not be able
to keep you -- and so I warn you. -- I have done with you from
this very day. -- I told you in the library, you know, that I
should never speak to you again, and you will find me as good
as my word.  I have no pleasure in talking to undutiful children,
 -- Not that I have much pleasure indeed in talking to any
body.  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 attempt to reason with or sooth her would only
increase the irritation.  She talked on, therefore, without inter-
ruption from any of them till they were joined by Mr, Collins,
who entered with an air more stately than usual, and on per-
ceiving 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 her-
self and all her family were very minute, and then by a
little curiosity, satisfied herself with walking to the window
and pretending not to hear.  In a doleful voice Mrs.
Bennet thus began the projected conversation. -- "Oh!  Mr.
.. <collins!" --
"My dear Madam," replied he, "let us be for ever silent on
this point.  Far be it from me," he presently continued in a
voice that marked his displeasure, "to resent the behaviour of
your daughter.  Resignation to inevitable evils is the duty of
us all; the peculiar duty of a young man who has been so
fortunate as I have been in early preferment; and I trust I am
resigned.  Perhaps not the less so from feeling a doubt of my
positive happiness had my fair cousin honoured me with her
hand; for I have often observed that resignation is never so
perfect as when the blessing denied begins to lose somewhat of
its value in our estimation.  You will not, I hope, consider me
as shewing any disrespect to your family, my dear Madam,
by thus withdrawing my pretensions to your daughter's
favour, without having paid yourself and Mr. Bennet the
compliment of requesting you to interpose your authority in
my behalf.  My conduct may I fear be objectionable in having
accepted my dismission from your daughter's lips instead of
your own.  But we are all liable to error.  I have certainly meant
well through the whole affair.  My object has been to secure an
amiable companion for myself, with due consideration for the
advantage of all your family, and if my manner has been at all
reprehensible, I here beg leave to apologise."



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                       vol. 1

                     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
assiduous attentions which he had been so sensible of himself,
were transferred for the rest of the day to Miss Lucas, whose
civility in listening to him, was a seasonable relief to them all,
and especially to her friend.
The morrow produced no abatement of Mrs. Bennet's ill
humour or ill health.  Mr. Collins was also in the same state
of angry pride.  Elizabeth had hoped that his resentment might
shorten his visit, but his plan did not appear in the least
affected by it.  He was always to have gone on Saturday, and to
Saturday he still meant to stay.
After breakfast, the girls walked to Meryton to inquire if
Mr. Wickham were returned, and to 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 every body 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 might arise unpleasant to more
than myself."
She highly approved his forbearance, and they had leisure
for a full discussion of it, and for all the 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 imme-
diately.  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 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 up stairs.  When they had gained their own
room, Jane taking out the letter, said,
"This is from Caroline Bingley; what it contains, has sur-
prised 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 any thing
I shall leave in Hertfordshire, except your society, my dearest
friend; but we will hope at some future period, to enjoy many
returns of the delightful intercourse we have known, and in
the mean while may lessen the pain of separation by a very
frequent and most unreserved correspondence.  I depend on
you for that."  To these high flown expressions, Elizabeth
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 society, she was persuaded
that Jane must soon cease to regard it, in the enjoyment
of his.
"It is unlucky," said she, after a short pause, "that you should
not be able to see your friends before they leave the country.
But may we not hope that the period of future hapiness to
which Miss Bingley looks forward, may arrive earlier than she
is aware, and that the delightful intercourse you have known
as friends, will be renewed with yet greater satisfaction as
sisters? -- Mr. Bingley will not be detained in London by
them."
"Caroline decidedly says that none of the party will return
into Hertfordshire this winter.  I will read it to you --
 "When my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that the
business which took Him to London, might be 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 ofmy acquaintance
are already there for the winter; I wish I could hear that you,
my dearest friend, had any intention of making one in the
croud, but of that I despair.  I sincerely hope your Christmas
in Hertfordshire may abound in the gaieties which that season
generally brings, and that your beaux will be so numerous as
to prevent your feeling the loss of the three, of whom we shall
deprive you."
"It is evident by this," added Jane, "that he comes back no
more this winter."
"It is only evident that Miss Bingley does not mean he
should."
"Why will you think so?  It must be his own doing. -- He is
his own master.  But you do not know all.  I will read you the
passage which particularly hurts me.  I will have no reserves
from you." "Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister, and to
confess the truth, we are scarcely less eager to meet her again.
I really do not think Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty,
elegance, and accomplishments; and the affection she inspires
in Louisa and myself, is heightened into something still 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 see-
ing her on the most intimate footing, her relations all wish the
connection as much as his own, and a sister's partiality is
not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most capable
of engaging any woman's heart.  With all these circumstances
to favour an attachment and nothing to prevent it, am I
wrong, my dearest Jane, in indulging the hope of an event
which will secure the happiness of so many?"
"What think you of this sentence, my dear Lizzy?" -- said
Jane as she finished it.  "Is it not clear enough? -- Does it not
expressly declare that Caroline neither expects nor wishes me
to be her sister; that she is perfectly convinced ofher 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 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 per-
suade him that instead of being in love with you, he is very
much in love with her friend."
"If we thought alike of Miss Bingley," replied Jane, "your
representation of all this, might make me quite easy.  But I
know the foundation is unjust.  Caroline is incapable of wilfully
deceiving any one; and all that I can hope in this case is, that
she is deceived herself."
"That is right. -- You could not have started a more happy
idea, since you will not take comfort in mine.  Believe her to
be deceived by all means.  You have now done your duty by
her, and must fret no longer."
"But, my dear sister, can I be happy, even supposing the
best, in accepting a man whose sisters and friends are all wish-
ing 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 can-
not consider your situation with much compassion."
"But if he returns no more this winter, my choice will never
be required.  A thousand things may arise in six months!"
The idea of his returning no more Elizabeth treated with
the utmost contempt.  It appeared to her merely the suggestion
of Caroline's interested wishes, and she could not for a
moment suppose that those wishes, however openly or art-
fully spoken, could influence a young man so totally indepen-
dent of every one.
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 diffidence of affection some-
times overcame the hope, that Bingley would return to Nether-
field 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 communica-
tion 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.



                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                       vol. 1

                     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.  Elizabeth took an opportunity of
thanking her.  "It keeps him in good humour," said she, "and
I am more obliged to you than I can express."  Charlotte
assured her friend of her satisfaction in being useful, and that
it amply repaid her for the little sacrifice of her time.  This was
very amiable, but Charlotte's kindness extended farther than
Elizabeth had any conception of; -- its object was nothing less,
than to secure her from any return of Mr. Collins's addresses,
by engaging them towards herself.  Such was Miss Lucas's
scheme; and appearances were so favourable that when they
parted at night, she would have felt 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 encouraging, he was
comparatively diffident since the adventure of Wednesday.
His reception however was of the most flattering kind.  Miss
Lucas perceived him from an upper window as he walked
towards the house, and instantly set out to meet him acci-
dentally in the lane.  But little had she dared to hope that so
much love and eloquence awaited her there.
In as short a time as Mr. Collins's long speeches would
allow, every thing was settled between them to the satis-
faction of both; and as they entered the house, he earnestly
entreated her to name the day that was to make him the
happiest of men; and though such a solicitation must be waved
for the present, the lady felt no inclination to trifle with his
happiness.  The stupidity with which he was favoured by
nature, must guard his courtship from any charm that could
make a woman wish for its continuance; and Miss Lucas,
who accepted him solely from the pure and disinterested
desire of an establishment, cared not how soon that establish-
ment 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 exceedingly
fair.  Lady Lucas began directly to calculate with more
interest than the matter had ever excited before, how many
years longer Mr. Bennet was likely to live; and Sir William
gave it as his decided opinion, that whenever Mr. Collins
should be in possession of the Longbourn estate, it would be
highly expedient that both he and his wife should make their
appearance at St.  James's.  The whole family in short were
properly overjoyed on the occasion.  The younger girls formed
hopes of coming out a year or two sooner than they might
otherwise have done; and the boys were relieved from their
apprehension of Charlotte's dying an old maid.  Charlotte her-
self was tolerably composed.  She had gained her point, and
had time to consider of it.  Her reflections were in general
satisfactory.  Mr. Collins to be sure was neither sensible nor
agreeable; his society was irksome, and his attachment to her
must be imaginary.  But still he would be her husband. --
Without thinking highly either of men or of matrimony,
marriage had always been her object; it was the only honour-
able provision for well-educated young women of small
fortune, and however uncertain of giving happiness, must be
their pleasantest preservative from want.  This preservative
she had now obtained; and at the age of twenty-seven, with-
out 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 friend-
ship 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 disapprobation.  She resolved to give her the informa-
tion herself, and therefore charged Mr. Collins when he
returned to Longbourn to dinner, to drop no hint of what had
passed before any of the family.  A promise of secrecy was of
course very dutifully given, but it could not be kept without
difficulty; for the curiosity excited by his long absence, burst
forth in such very direct questions on his return, as required
some ingenuity to evade, and he was at the same time exer-
cising 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 per-
formed when the ladies moved for the night; and Mrs. Bennet
with great politeness and cordiality said how happy they
should be to see him at Longbourn again, whenever his other
engagements might allow him to visit them.
"My dear Madam," he replied, "this invitation is parti-
cularly gratifying, because it is what I have been hoping to
receive; and you may be very certain that I shall avail myself
of it as soon as possible."
They were all astonished; and Mr. Bennet, who could by
no means wish for so speedy a return, immediately said,
"But is there not danger of Lady Catherine's disapproba-
tion here, my good sir? -- You had better neglect your rela-
tions, than run the risk of offending your patroness."
"My dear sir, " replied Mr. Collins, "I am particularly obliged
to you for this friendly caution, and you may depend upon
my not taking so material a step without her ladyship's con-
currence."
"You cannot be too much on your guard.  Risk any thing
rather than her displeasure; and if you find it likely to be
raised by your coming to us again, which I should think
exceedingly probable, stay quietly at home, and be satisfied
that we shall take no offence."
"'Believe me, my dear sir, my gratitude-is warmly excited
by such affectionate attention; and depend upon it, you will
speedily receive from me a letter of thanks for this, as well as
for every other mark of your regard during my stay in Hertford-
shire.  As for my fair cousins, though my absence may not be
long enough to render it necessary, I shall now take the liberty
of wishing them health and happiness, not excepting my
cousin Elizabeth."
With proper civilities the ladies then withdrew; all of them
equally surprised to find that he 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 her's, he
might become a very agreeable companion.  But on the follow-
ing morning, every hope of this kind was done away.  Miss
Lucas called soon after breakfast, and in a private conference
with Elizabeth related the event of the 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 that she could encour-
age 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 com-
manded in telling her story, gave way to a momentary con-
fusion here on receiving so direct a reproach; though, as it
was no more than she expected, she soon regained her com-
posure, and calmly replied,
"Why should you be surprised, my dear Eliza? -- Do you
think it incredible that Mr. Collins should be able to procure
any woman's good opinion, because he was not 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 firm-
ness that the prospect of their relationship was highly grateful
to her, and that she wished her all imaginable happiness.
"I see what you are feeling," replied Charlotte, -- "you
must be surprised, very much surprised, -- so lately as Mr.
.. <collins was wishing to marry you.  But when you have
had time to think it all over, I hope you will be satisfied
with what I have done.  I am not romantic you know.  I
never was, I ask only a comfortable home; and consider-
ing Mr. Collins's character, connections, and situation in
life, I am convinced that my chance of happiness with him
is as fair, as most people can boast on entering the marriage
state."
Elizabeth quietly answered "Undoubtedly;' -- and after
an awkward pause, they returned to the rest of the family.
.. <charlotte did not stay much longer, and Elizabeth was then
left to reflect on what she had heard.  It was a long time
before she became at all reconciled to the idea of so unsuit-
able a match.  The strangeness of Mr. Collins's making two
offers of marriage within three days, was nothing in com-
parison of his being now accepted.  She had always felt that
.. <charlotte's opinion of matrimony was not exactly like her
own, but she could not have supposed it possible that when
called into action, she would have sacrificed every better
feeling to worldly advantage.  Charlotte the wife of Mr. Collins,
was amost humiliating picture! -- And to the pang of a
friend disgracing herself and sunk in her esteem, was added
the distressing conviction that it was impossible for that
friend to be tolerably happy in the lot she had chosen.
ELIZABETH was sitting with her mother and sisters, reflect-
ing on what she had heard, and doubting whether she were
authorised to mention it, when Sir William Lucas himself
appeared, sent by his daughter to announce her engagement
to the family.  With many compliments to them, and much
self-gratulation on the prospect of a connection between the
houses, he unfolded the matter, -- to an audience not merely
wondering, but incredulous; for Mrs. Bennet, with more
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 mentioning her prior knowledge of it from Charlotte
herself; and endeavoured to put a stop to the exclamations of
her mother and sisters, by the earnestness of her congratula-
tions 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
together; 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 mis-
chief; 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 resent-
ment.  A week elapsed before she could see Elizabeth without
scolding her, a month passed away before she could speak to
Sir William or Lady Lucas without being rude and many
months were gone before she could at all forgive their
daughter.
Mr. Bennet's emotions were much more tranquil on the
occasion, and such as he did experience he pronounced to be
of a most agreeable sort; for it gratified him, he said, to dis-
cover 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 con-
sider it as improbable.  Kitty and Lydia were ar rom envying
Miss Lucas, for Mr. Collins was only a clergyman; and it
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 daugh-
ter 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 Eliza-
beth felt persuaded that no real confidence could ever subsist
between them again.  Her disappointment in Charlotte made
her turn with fonder regard to her sister, of whose rectitude
and delicacy she was sure her opinion could never be shaken,
and for whose happiness she grew daily morte 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 con-
science on that head, he proceeded to inform them, with many
rapturous expressions, of his happiness in having obtained
the affection of their amiable neighbour, Miss Lucas, and then
explained that it was merely with the view of enjoying her
society that he had been so ready to close with their kind wish
of seeing him again at Longbourn, whither he hoped to be
able to return on Monday fortnight; for Lady Catherine, he
added, so heartily approved his marriage, that she wished it
to take pla e 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 disagreeable.  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 report which shortly prevailed in Meryton of
his coming no more to Netherfield the whole winter; a report
which highly incensed Mrs. Bennet, and which she never
failed to contradict as a most scandalous falsehood.
Even Elizabeth began to fear -- not that Bingley was in-
different -- but that his sisters would be successful in keeping
him away.  Unwilling as she was to admit an idea so destruc-
tive of Jane's happiness, and so dishonourable to the stability
of her lover, she could not prevent its frequently recurring.
The united efforts of his two unfeeling sisters and of his over-
powering friend, assisted by the attractions of Miss Darcy and
the amusements of London, might be too much, she feared,
for the strength of his attachment.
As for Jane, her anxiety under this suspence was, of course,
more painful than Elizabeth's; but whatever she felt she was
desirous of concealing, and between herself and Elizabeth,
therefore, the subject was never alluded to.  But as no such
delicacy restrained her mother, an hour seldom passed in
which she did not talk of Bingley, 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 fort-
night, 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 Long-
bourn 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 any thing 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 complained bitterly of
all this to her husband.
"Indeed, Mr. Bennet," said she, "it is very hard to think that
.. <charlotte Lucas should ever be mistress of this house, that I
should be forced to make way for her, and live to see her take
my place in it!"
"My dear, do not give way to such gloomy thoughts.  Let us
hope for better things.  Let us flatter ourselves that I may be
the survivor."
This was not very consoling to Mrs. Bennet, and, therefore,
instead of making any answer, she went on as before,
"I cannot bear to think that they should have all this estate,
If it was not for the entail I should not mind it."
"What should not you mind?"
"I should not mind any thing at all."
"Let us be thankful that you are preserved from a state of
such insensibility."
"I never can be thankful, Mr. Bennet, for any thing about
the entail.  How any one could have the conscience to entail
away an estate from one's own daughters I cannot under-
stand; 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.