Pride and Prejudice

This book is...

not written by me
not read by me
supposedly a great novel

I just found out how to use HTML to make paragraphs so now this will be a lot better than before.

this is the first 16 chapters of Pride and Prejudice it was written by the Gutenburg team I DID NOT COPY IT OR WRITE IT. but I felt like putting it on my website so here it is

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Pride and Prejudice

by Jane Austen

June, 1998 [Etext #1342]

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Pride and Prejudice

by Jane Austen

Chapter 1

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in
possession of a large 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 the rightful property of someone or other of their
daughters.

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

Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.

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

Mr. Bennet made no answer.

"Do you not 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
may like you the best of the party."

"My dear, you flatter me. I certainly HAVE had my share of
beauty, but I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now.
When a woman has five grown-up daughters, she ought to give
over thinking of her own beauty."

"In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think
of."

"But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when
he comes into the neighbourhood."

"It is more than I engage for, I assure you."

"But consider your daughters. Only think what an
establishment it would be for one of them. Sir William and
Lady Lucas are determined to go, merely on that account, for
in general, you know, they visit no newcomers. Indeed you
must go, for it will be impossible for US to visit him if you do
not."

"You are over-scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will
be very glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to
assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying whichever he
chooses of the girls; though I must throw in a good word for
my little Lizzy."

"I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better
than the others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as
Jane, nor half so good-humoured as Lydia. But you are always
giving HER the preference."

"They have none of them much to recommend them," replied
he; "they are all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has
something more of quickness than her sisters."

"Mr. Bennet, how CAN you abuse your own children in such a
way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion
for 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 last twenty years at least."

Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic
humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-
twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand
his character. HER mind was less difficult to develop. She was
a woman of mean understanding, little information, and
uncertain temper. When she was discontented, she fancied
herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her
daughters married; its solace was visiting and news.

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

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

"No more have I," said Mr. Bennet; "and I am glad to find that
you do not depend on her serving you."

Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any reply, but, unable to
contain herself, began scolding one of her daughters.

"Don't keep coughing so, Kitty, for Heaven's sake! Have a little
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

Bookmark
introduce Mr. Bingley to HER."

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

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

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 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 that
before? If I had known as much this morning I certainly would
not have called on him. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually
paid the visit; we cannot escape the acquaintance now."

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

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

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

What an excellent father you have, girls!" said she, when the
door was shut. "I do not know how you will ever make him
amends for his kindness; or me, either, for that matter. At our
time of life it is not so pleasant, I can tell you, to be making new
acquaintances every day; but for your sakes, we would do
anything. Lydia, my love, though you ARE the youngest, I dare
say Mr. Bingley will dance with you at the next ball."

"Oh!" said Lydia stoutly, "I am not afraid; for though I AM the
youngest, I'm the tallest."

The rest of the evening was spent in conjecturing how soon he
would return Mr. Bennet's visit, and determining when they
should ask him to dinner.

Chapter 3

Not all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her
five daughters, could ask on the subject, was sufficient to draw
from her husband any satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley.
They attacked him in various way-- with barefaced questions,
ingenious suppositions, and distant surmises; but he eluded the
skill of them all, and they were at last obliged to accept the
second-hand intelligence of their neighbour, Lady Lucas. Her
report was highly favourable. Sir William had been delighted
with him. He was quite young, wonderfully handsome,
extremely 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 entertained
hopes of being admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of
whose beauty he had heard much; but he saw only the father.
The ladies were somewhat more fortunate, for they had the
advantage of ascertaining from an upper window that he wore
a blue coat, and rode a black horse.

An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards 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, etc. Mrs. Bennet was quite disconcerted.
She could not imagine what business he could have in town so
soon after his arrival in Hertfordshire; and she began to fear
that he might be always flying about from one place to another,
and never settled at Netherfield as he ought to be. Lady Lucas
quieted her fears a little by starting the idea of his being gone
to London only to get a large party for the ball; and a report
soon followed, that Mr. Bingley was to bring twelve ladies and
seven gentlemen with him to the assembly. The girls grieved
over such a number of ladies, but were comforted the day
before the ball by hearing, that instead of twelve he brought
only six with him from London-- his five sisters and a cousin.
And when the party entered the assembly room it consisted of
only five altogether-- Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband
of the eldest, and another young man.

Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a
pleasant countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His
sisters were fine women, with an air of decided fashion. His
brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely looked the gentleman; but
his friend Mr. Darcy soon drew the attention of the room by
his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien, and the
report which was in general circulation within five minutes
after his entrance, of his having ten thousand a year. The
gentlemen pronounced him to be a fine figure of a man, the
ladies declared he was much handsomer than Mr. Bingley, and
he was looked at with great admiration for about half the
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 unworthy to
be compared with his friend.

Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the
principal people in the room; he was lively and unreserved,
danced every dance, was angry that the ball closed so early,
and talked of giving one himself at Netherfield. Such amiable
qualities must speak for themselves. What a contrast between
him and his friend! Mr. Darcy danced only once with Mrs.
Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being introduced
to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in walking
about the room, speaking occasionally to one of his own party.
His character was decided. He was the proudest, most
disagreeable man in the world, and everybody hoped that he
would never come there again. Amongst the most violent
against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of his general
behaviour was sharpened into particular resentment by his
having slighted one of her daughters.

Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of
gentlemen, to sit down for two dances; and during part of that
time, Mr. Darcy had been standing near enough for her to hear
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 Mr. 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; 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 toward him.
She told the story, however, with great spirit among her
friends; for she had a lively, playful disposition, which delighted
in anything ridiculous.

The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole
family. Mrs. Bennet had seen her eldest daughter much
admired by the Netherfield party. Mr. Bingley had danced with
her twice, and she had been 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 never to be 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 events of an evening which had raised such
splendid expectations. He had rather hoped that his wife's
views on the stranger would be disappointed; but he soon
found out that he had a different story to hear.

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

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

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

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

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

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 just how very much she admired him.

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

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

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

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

"Dear Lizzy!"

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

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

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

"Certainly not-- at first. But they are very pleasing women when
you converse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her
brother, and keep his house; and I am much mistaken if we shall
not find a very charming 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 judgement too unassailed by
any attention to herself, she was very little disposed to approve
them. They were in fact very fine ladies; not deficient in good
humour when they were pleased, nor in the power of making
themselves agreeable when they chose it, but proud and
conceited. They were rather handsome, had been educated in
one of the first private seminaries in town, had a fortune of
twenty thousand pounds, were in the habit of spending more
than they ought, and of associating with people of rank, and
were therefore in every respect entitled to think well of
themselves, and meanly of others. They were of a respectable
family in the north of England; a circumstance more deeply
impressed on their memories than that their brother's fortune
and their own had been acquired by trade.

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

His sisters were anxious for his having an estate of his own; but,
though he was now only established 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 or age two years, when he was tempted
by an accidental recommendation to look at Netherfield House.
He did look at it, and into it for half-an-hour-- was pleased with
the situation and the principal rooms, satisfied with what the
owner said in its praise, and took it immediately.

Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in
spite of great opposition of character. Bingley was endeared to
Darcy by the easiness, openness, and ductility of his temper,
though no disposition could offer a greater contrast to his own,
and though with his own he never appeared dissatisfied. On the
strength of Darcy's regard, Bingley had the firmest reliance, and
of his judgement 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 offense.

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

Mrs. Hurst and her sister allowed it to be so-- but still they
admired her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet
girl, and one whom they would not object to know more of.
Miss Bennet was therefore established as a sweet girl, and their
brother felt authorized by such commendation to think of her as
he chose.

Chapter 5

Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom
the Bennets were particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas had
been formerly in trade in Meryton, where he had made a
tolerable fortune, and risen to the honour of knighthood by an
address to the king during his 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,
in 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 himself
solely in being civil to all the world. For, though elated by his
rank, it did not render him supercilious; on the contrary, he was
all attention to everybody. By nature inoffensive, friendly, and
obliging, his presentation at St. James's had made him
courteous.

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

That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to
talk over a ball was absolutely necessary; and the morning after
the assembly brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to
communicate. "YOU began the evening well, Charlotte," said
Mrs. Bennet with civil self-command to Miss Lucas. "YOU
were Mr. Bingley's first choice."

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

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

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

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

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

"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
without once opening his lips."

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

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

"Miss Bingley told me," said Jane, "that he never speaks much,
unless among his intimate acquaintances. With THEM he is
remarkably agreeable."

"I do not believe a word of it, my dear. If he had been so very
agreeable, he would have talked to Mrs. Long. But I can guess
how it was; everybody says that he is eat up with pride, and I
dare say he had heard somehow that Mrs. Long does not keep
a carriage, and had come to the ball in a hack chaise."

"I do not mind his not talking to Mrs. Long," said Miss Lucas,
"but I wish he had danced with Eliza."

"Another time, Lizzy," said her mother, "I would not dance
with HIM, if I were you."

"I believe, ma'am, I may safely promise you NEVER to dance
with him."

"His pride," said Miss Lucas, "does not offend ME so much as
pride often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot
wonder that so very fine a young man, with family, fortune,
everything in his favour, should think highly of himself. If I
may so express it, he has a RIGHT to be proud."

"That is very true," replied Elizabeth, "and I could easily
forgive HIS pride, if he had not mortified MINE."

"Pride," observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity
of her reflections, "is a very common failing, I believe. By all
that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common
indeed; that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that
there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of
self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or
imaginary. Vanity a pride are different things, though the
words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud
without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of
ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us."

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

Chapter 6

The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield.
The visit was soon returned in due form. Miss Bennet's
pleasing manners grew on the goodwill of Mrs. Hurst and Miss
Bingley; and though the mother was found to be intolerable,
and the younger sisters not worth speaking to, a wish of
being better acquainted with THEM was expressed towards
the two eldest. By Jane, this attention was received with the
greatest pleasure, but Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in
their treatment of everybody, hardly excepting even her sister,
and could not like them; though their kindness to Jane, such as it
was, had a value as arising in all probability from the influence
of their brother's admiration. It was generally evident
whenever they met, that he DID admire her and to HER it was
equally evident that Jane was yielding to the preference which
she had begun to entertain for him from the first, and was in a
way to be very much in love; but she considered with pleasure
that it was not likely to be discovered by the world in general,
since Jane united, with great strength of feeling, a composure
of temper and a uniform cheerfulness of manner which would
guard her from the suspicions of the impertinent. She
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 sometimes a
disadvantage to be so very guarded. If a woman conceals her
affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose
the opportunity of fixing him; and it will then be but poor
consolation to believe the world equally in the dark. There is
so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that
it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all BEGIN freely-- a
slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us
who have heart enough to be really in love without
encouragement. In nine cases out of ten a women had better
show MORE affection than she feels. Bingley, likes your
sister, undoubtedly; but he may never do more than like her, if
she does not help him on."

"But she does help him on, as much as her nature will allow. If
I can perceive her regard for him, he must be a simpleton,
indeed, not to discover it too."

"Remember, Eliza, that he does not know Jane's disposition as
you do."

"But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not 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 more leisure
for falling in love as much as she chooses."

"Your plan is a good one," replied Elizabeth, "where nothing is
in question but the desire of being well married, and if I were
determined to get a rich husband, or any husband, I dare say I
should adopt it. But these are not Jane's 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 with him in company four times. This is not
quite enough to make her understand his character."

"Not as you represent it. Had she merely DINED with him, she
might only have discovered whether he had a good appetite; but
you must remember that four evenings have also been spent
together-- and four evenings may do a great deal."

"Yes; these four evenings have enabled them to ascertain that
they both like Vingt-un better than Commerce; but with respect
to any other leading characteristic, I do not imagine that much
has been unfolded."

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

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

Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions to her sister,
Elizabeth was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming
an object of some interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. Darcy
had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at
her without admiration at the ball; and when they next met, he
looked at her only to criticise. But no sooner had he made it
clear to himself and his friends that she hardly had a good feature
in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly
intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To this
discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he
had detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect
symmetry in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure
to be light and pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her
manners were not those of the fashionable world, he was caught
by their easy playfulness. Of this she was perfectly unaware; to
her he was only the man who made himself agreeable nowhere,
and who had not thought her handsome enough to dance with.

He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards
conversing with her himself, attended to her conversation with
others. His doing so drew her notice. It was at Sir William
Lucas's, where a large party were assembled.

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

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

"But if he does it any more I shall certainly let him know that I
see what he is about. He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not
begin by being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of
him."

On his approaching them soon afterwards, though without
seeming to have any intention of speaking, Miss Lucas defied
her friend to mention such a subject to him; which immediately
provoking Elizabeth to do it, she turned to him and said:

"Did you not think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself
uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster
to give us a ball at Meryton?"

"With great energy; but it is always a subject which makes a lady
energetic."

"You are severe on us."

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

"You are a very strange creature by way of a friend!-- always
wanting me to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If
my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have been
invaluable; but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before
those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best
performers." On Miss Lucas's persevering, however, she added,
"Very well, if it must be so, it must." And gravely glancing at Mr.
Darcy, "There is a fine old saying, which everybody here is of
course familiar with: 'Keep your breath to cool your porridge';
and I shall keep mine to swell my song."

Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital.
After a song or two, and before she could reply to the entreaties
of several that she would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded
at the instrument by her sister Mary, who having, in consequence
of being the only plain one in the family, worked hard for
knowledge and accomplishments, was always impatient for
display.

Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given
her application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and
conceited 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 conversation, and
was too much engrossed by his 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 consider it as
one of the first refinements of polished society."

"Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue
amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage
can dance."

Sir William only smiled. "Your friend performs delightfully," he
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 had some thought of fixing in town myself-- for I am
fond of superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that the
air of London would agree with Lady Lucas."

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

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

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

Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the
honour of her hand, but in vain. Elizabeth was determined; nor
did Sir William at all shake her purpose by his attempt at
persuasion.

"You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to
deny me the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman
dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I
am sure, to oblige us for one half-hour."

"Mr. Darcy is all politeness," said Elizabeth, smiling.

"He is, indeed; but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss
Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance-- for who would
object to such a partner?"

Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away. Her resistance had
not injured her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her
with some complacency, when thus accosted by Miss Bingley:

"I can guess the subject of your reverie."

"I should imagine not."

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

"You 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, a desired he
would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such
reflections. Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepidity:

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet!" repeated Miss Bingley. "I am all
astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite?-- and
pray, when am I to wish you joy?"

"That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A
lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to
love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would
be wishing me joy."

"Nay, if you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter is
absolutely settled. You will be having a charming
mother-in-law, indeed; and, of course, she will always be at
Pemberley with you."

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

Chapter 7

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

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

The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a
most convenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually
tempted thither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to
their aunt and to a milliner's shop just over the way. The two
youngest of the family, Catherine and Lydia, were particularly
frequent in these attentions; their minds were more vacant than
their sisters', and when nothing better offered, a walk to
Meryton was necessary to amuse their morning hours and
furnish conversation for the evening; and however bare of news
the country in general might be, they always contrived to learn
some from their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well
supplied both with news and happiness by the recent arrival of
a militia regiment in the neighbourhood; it was to remain the
whole winter, and Meryton was the headquarters.

Their visits to Mrs. Phillips 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. Phillips visited them all, and
this opened to his nieces a store of felicity unknown before.
They could talk of nothing but officers; and Mr. Bingley's large
fortune, the mention of which gave animation to their mother,
was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of
an ensign.

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

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

Catherine was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Lydia,
with perfect indifference, continued to express her admiration of
Captain Carter, and her hope of seeing him in the course of the
day, as he was going the next morning to London.

"I am astonished, my dear," said Mrs. Bennet, "that you should
be so ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think
slightingly of anybody's children, it should not be of my own,
however."

"If my children are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it."

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

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

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

"Mamma," cried Lydia, "my aunt says that Colonel Forster and
Captain Carter do not go so often to Miss Watson's as they did
when they first came; she sees them now very often standing in
Clarke's library."

Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by the entrance of the
footman with a note for Miss Bennet; it came from Netherfield,
and the servant waited for an answer. Mrs. Bennet's eyes
sparkled with pleasure, and she was eagerly calling out, while
her daughter read:

"Well, Jane, who is it from? What is it about? What does he
say? Well, Jane, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love."

"It is from Miss Bingley," said Jane, and then read it aloud.

"MY DEAR FRIEND,--
"If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with
Louisa and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for
the rest of our lives, for a whole day's tete-a-tete between two
women can never end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you
can on receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine
with the officers.-- Yours ever,
"CAROLINE BINGLEY"

"With the officers!" cried Lydia. "I wonder my aunt did not tell
us of THAT."

"Dining out," said Mrs. Bennet, "that is very unlucky."

"Can I have the carriage?" said Jane.

"No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems
likely to rain; and then you must stay all night."

"That would be a good scheme," said Elizabeth, "if you were
sure that they would not offer to send her home."

"Oh! but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley's chaise to go to
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 they not?

"They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get them."

"But if you have got them to-day," said Elizabeth, "my mother's
purpose will be answered."

She did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment that
the horses were engaged; Jane was therefore obliged to go on
horseback, and her mother attended her to the door with many
cheerful prognostics of a bad day. Her hopes were answered;
Jane had not been gone long before it rained hard. Her sisters
were uneasy for her, but her mother was delighted. The rain
continued the whole evening without intermission; Jane certainly
could not some 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 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 headache, there is not much the
matter with me.-- Yours, etc."

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

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

Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her,
though the carriage was not to be had; and as she was no
horsewoman, walking was her only alternative. She declared her
resolution.

"How can you be so silly," cried her mother, "as to think of such
a thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when you
get there."

"I shall be very fit to see Jane-- which is all I want."

"Is this a hint to me, Lizzy," said her father, "to send for the horses?"

"No, indeed, I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is
nothing when one has a motive; only three miles. I shall be back
by dinner."

"I admire the activity of your benevolence," observed Mary, "but
every impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my
opinion, exertion should always be in proportion to what is
required."

"We will go as far as Meryton with you," said Catherine and
Lydia. Elizabeth accepted their company, and the three young
ladies set off together.

"If we make haste," said Lydia, as they walked along, "perhaps
we may see something of Captain Carter before he goes."

"In Meryton they parted; the two youngest repaired to the
lodgings of one of the officers' wives, and Elizabeth continued
her walk alone, crossing field after field at a quick pace, jumping
over stiles and springing over puddles with impatient activity,
and finding herself at last within view of the house, with weary
ankles, dirty stockings, and a face glowing with the warmth of
exercise.

She was shown into the breakfast-parlour, where all but Jane
were assembled, and where her appearance created a great deal
of surprise. That she should have walked three miles so early in
the day, in such dirty weather, and by herself, was almost
incredible to Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and Elizabeth was
convinced that they held her in contempt for it. She was
received, however, very politely by them; and in their brother's
manners there was something better than politeness; there was
good humour and kindness. Mr. Darcy said very little, and Mr.
Hurst nothing at all. The former was divided between
admiration of the brilliancy which exercise had given to her
complexion, and doubt as to the occasion's justifying her coming
so far alone. The latter was thinking only of his breakfast.

Her inquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered.
Miss Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish, and
not well enough to leave her room. Elizabeth was glad to be
taken to her immediately; and Jane, who had only been withheld
by the fear of giving alarm or inconvenience from expressing in
her note how much she longed for such a visit, was delighted at
her entrance. She was not equal, however, to much
conversation, and when Miss Bingley left them together, could
attempt little besides expressions of gratitude for the
extraordinary kindness she was treated with. Elizabeth silently
attended her.

When breakfast was over they were joined by the sisters; and
Elizabeth began to like them herself, when she saw how much
affection and solicitude they showed for Jane. The apothecary
came, and having examined his patient, said, as might be
supposed, that she had caught a violent cold, and that they must
endeavour to get the better of it; advised her to return to bed,
and promised her some draughts. The advice was followed
readily, for the feverish symptoms increased, and her head ached
acutely. Elizabeth did not quit her room for a moment; nor were
the other ladies often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had,
in fact, nothing to do elsewhere.

When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that she must go, and
very unwillingly said so. Miss Bingley offered her the carriage,
and she only wanted a little pressing to accept it, when Jane
testified such concern in parting with her, that Miss Bingley was
obliged to convert the offer of the chaise to an invitation to
remain at Netherfield for the present. Elizabeth most thankfully
consented, and a servant was dispatched to Longbourn to
acquaint the family with her stay and bring back a supply of
clothes.

Chapter 8

At five o'clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half-past
six Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. To the civil inquiries
which then poured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure
of 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 former 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 to prefer a
plain dish to a ragout, had nothing to say to her.

When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss
Bingley began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room.
Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture
of pride and impertinence; she had no conversation, no style, no
beauty. Mrs. Hurst thought the same, and added:

"She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an
excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this
morning. She really looked almost wild."

"She did, indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance.
Very nonsensical to come at all! Why must SHE be scampering
about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair, so
untidy, so blowsy!"

"Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches
deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had
been let down to hide it not doing its office."

"Your picture may be very exact, Louisa," said Bingley; "but
this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet
looked remarkably well when she came into the room this
morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice."

"YOU observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure," said Miss Bingley;
"and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see
YOUR sister make such an exhibition."

"Certainly not."

"To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it
is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could
she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of
conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to
decorum."

"It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing," said
Bingley.

"I am afraid, Mr. Darcy," observed Miss Bingley in a half
whisper, "that this adventure has rather affected your
admiration of her fine eyes."

"Not at all," he replied; "they were brightened by the exercise."
A short pause followed this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again:

"I have a excessive regard for Miss Jane Bennet, she is really a
very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well
settled. But with such a father and mother, and such low
connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it."

"I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney on
Meryton."

"Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near
Cheapside."

"That is capital," added her sister, and they both laughed
heartily.

"If they had uncles enough to fill ALL Cheapside," cried
Bingley, "it would not make them one jot less agreeable."

"But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men
of any consideration in the world," replied Darcy.

To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisters gave it
their 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 returned to her
room on leaving the dining-parlour, and sat with her till
summoned to coffee. She was still very poorly, and Elizabeth
would not quit her at all, till late in the evening, when she had
the comfort of seeing her sleep, and when it seemed to her rather
right than pleasant that she should go downstairs herself. On
entering the drawing-room she found the whole party at loo, and
was immediately invited to join them; but suspecting them to be
playing high, she declined it, 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 be soon increased by seeing her quite
well."

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

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

Elizabeth assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with
those in the room.

"I am astonished," said Miss Bingley, "that my father should
have left so small a collection of books. What a delightful library
you have at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!"

"It ought to be good," he replied, "it has been the 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 with what passed, as to leave her
very little attention for her book; and soon laying it wholly aside,
she drew near the card-table, and stationed herself between Mr.
Bingley and his eldest sister, to observe the game."

"Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?" said Miss
Bingley; "will she be as tall as I am?"

"I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet's
height, or rather taller."

"How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who
delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And
so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the
pianoforte is exquisite."

"It is amazing to me," said Bingley, "how young ladies can have
patience to be so very accomplished as they all are."

"All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you
mean?"

"Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens,
and net purses. I scarcely know anyone who cannot do all this,
and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first
time, without being informed that she was very accomplished."

"Your list of the common extent of accomplishments," said
Darcy, "has too much truth. The word is applied to many a
woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse or
covering a screen. But I am very far from agreeing with you in
your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing
more than half-a-dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance,
that are really accomplished."

"Nor I, I am sure," said Miss Bingley.

"Then," observed Elizabeth, "you must comprehend a great deal
in your idea of an accomplished woman."

"Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it."

"Oh! certainly," cried his faithful assistant, "no one can be really
esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is
usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of
music, singing, 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 improvement of
her mind by extensive reading."

"I am no longer surprised at your knowing ONLY six
accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing
ANY."

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

"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.

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

"Undoubtedly," replied Darcy, to whom this remark was chiefly
addressed, "there is a meanness in ALL the arts which ladies
sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Whatever
bears affinity to cunning is despicable."

Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as to
continue the subject.

Elizabeth joined them again only to say that her sister was
worse, and that she could not leave her. Bingley urged Mr.
Jones being sent for immediately; while his sisters, convinced
that no country advice could be of any service, recommended an
express to town for one of the most eminent physicians. This
she would not hear of; but she was not so unwilling to comply
with their brother's proposal; and it was settled that Mr. Jones
should be sent for early in the morning, if Miss Bennet were not
decidedly better. Bingley was quite uncomfortable; his sisters
declared that they were miserable: They solaced their
wretchedness, however, by duets after supper, while he could
find no better relief to his feelings than by giving his housekeeper
directions that every attention might be paid to the sick lady and
her sister.

Chapter 9

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

Had she found Jane in any apparent danger, Mrs. Bennet would
have been very miserable; but being satisfied on seeing her that
her illness was not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering
immediately, as her restoration to health would probably remove
her from Netherfield. She would not listen, therefore, to her
daughter's proposal of being carried home; neither did the
apothecary, who arrived about the same time, think it at all
advisable. After sitting a little while with Jane, on Miss
Bingley's appearance and invitation, the mother and three
daughter 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 will receive every possible attention
while she remains with us."

Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgements.

"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 have ever met with. I often tell
my other girls they are nothing to HER. You have a sweet room
here, Mr. Bingley, and a charming prospect over the gravel
walk. I do not know a place in the country that is equal to
Netherfield. You will not think of quitting it in a hurry, I hope,
though you have but a short lease."

"Whatever I do is done in a hurry," replied he; "and therefore if I
should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in
five minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite
fixed here."

"That is exactly what I should have supposed of you," said
Elizabeth.

"You begin to comprehend me, do you?" cried he, turning
towards her.

"Oh! yes-- I understand you perfectly."

"I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily
seen through I am afraid is pitiful."

"That is as it happens. It does not 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
your were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study."

"Yes, but intricate characters are the MOST amusing. They
have at least that advantage."

"The country," said Darcy, "can in general supply but a few
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 something
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."

Everybody 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 it not, 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, mamma, you are mistaken," said Elizabeth, blushing for
her mother. "You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that
there was not such a variety of people to be met with in the
country as in the 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
eyes towards Mr. Darcy with a very expressive smile. Elizabeth,
for the sake of saying something that might turn her mother's
thoughts, now asked her if Charlotte Lucas had been at
Longbourn since HER coming away.

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

"Did Charlotte dine with you?"

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

"She seems a very pleasant young woman."

"Oh! dear, yes; but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas
herself has often said so, and envied me Jane's beauty. I do not
like to boast of my own child, but to be sure, Jane-- one does
not often see anybody better looking. It is what everybody says.
I do not trust my own partiality. When she was only fifteen,
there was a man 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. Everything 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 performed her part
indeed without much graciousness, but Mrs. Bennet was
satisfied, and soon afterwards ordered her carriage. Upon this
signal, the youngest of her daughters put herself forward. The
two girls had been whispering to each other during the whole
visit, and the result of it was, that the youngest should tax Mr.
Bingley with having promised on his first coming into the
country to give a ball at Netherfield.

Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen, with a fine
complexion and good-humoured countenance; a favourite with
her 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 attention of the officers, to whom
her uncle's good dinners, and her own easy manners recommended
her, had increased into assurance. She was very equal,
therefore, to address Mr. Bingley on the subject of the ball, and
abruptly reminded him that it would be the most shameful thing
in the world if he did not keep it. His answer to this sudden
attack was delightful to her mother's ear:

"I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement; and
when your sister is recovered, you shall, if you please, name the
very day of the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing
when 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 daughter then departed, and Elizabeth
returned instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her relations'
behaviour to the remarks of the two ladies and Mr. Darcy; the
latter of whom, however, could not be prevailed on to join in
their censure of HER, in spite of all Miss Bingley's witticisms on
FINE EYES.

Chapter 10

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

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

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

He made no answer.

"You write uncommonly fast."

"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly."

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

"It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of 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 style of writing is very different from yours."

"Oh!" cried Miss Bingley, "Charles writes in the most careless
way imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the
rest."

"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 appearance of
humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes
an indirect boast."

"And which of the two do you call MY little recent piece of
modesty?"

"The indirect boast; for you are really proud of your defects in
writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a
rapidity of thought and carelessness of execution, which, if not
estimable, you think at least highly interesting. The power of
doing anything with quickness is always prized much 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 upon 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 anyone
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 believe 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 show off before
the ladies."

"I dare say you believed it; but I am by no means convinced that
you would be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be
quite as dependent on chance as that of any man I know; and if,
as you were mounting your horse, a friend were to say, 'Bingley,
you had better stay till next week,' you would probably do it,
you would probably not go-- and at another word, might stay a
month."

"You have only proved by this," cried Elizabeth, "that Mr.
Bingley did not do justice to his own disposition. You have
shown him off now much more than he did himself."

"I am exceedingly gratified," said Bingley, "by your converting
what my friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my
temper. But I am afraid you are giving it a turn which that
gentleman did by no means intend; for he would certainly think
better of me, if under such a circumstance I were to give a flat
denial, and ride off as fast as I could."

"Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness of your original
intentions as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?"

"Upon my word, I cannot exactly explain the matter; Darcy must
speak for himself."

"You expect me to account for opinions which you choose to
call mine, but which I have never acknowledged. Allowing the
case, however, to stand according to your representation, you
must remember, Miss Bennet, that the friend who is supposed to
desire his return to the house, and the delay of his plan, has
merely desired it, asked it without offering one argument in
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 compliment to the
understanding 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 waiting
for arguments to reason one into it. I am not particularly
speaking of such a case as you have supposed about Mr.
Bingley. We may as well wait, perhaps, till the circumstance
occurs before we discuss the discretion of his behaviour
thereupon. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and
friend, where one of them is desired by the other to change a
resolution of no very great moment, should you think ill of that
person for complying with the desire, without waiting to be
argued into it?"

"Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to
arrange with rather more precision the degree of importance
which is to appertain to this request, as well as the degree of
intimacy subsisting between the parties?"

"By all means," cried Bingley; "let us hear all the particulars, not
forgetting their comparative height and size; for that will have
more weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be
aware of. I assure you, that if Darcy were not such a great tall
fellow, in comparison with myself, that I should not pay him half
so much deference. I declare I do not know a more awful object
than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in particular places; at
his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening, when he has
nothing to do."

Mr. Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thought she could perceive that
he was rather offended, and therefore checked her laugh. Miss
Bingley warmly resented the indignity he had received, in an
expostulation with her brother for talking such nonsense.

"I see your design, Bingley," said his friend. "You dislike an
argument, and want to silence this."

"Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you
and Miss Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall
be very thankful; and then you may say whatever you like of
me."

"What you ask," said Elizabeth, "is no 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 an indulgence of some music. Miss Bingley moved
with some alacrity to the pianoforte; and, after a polite request
that Elizabeth would lead the way which the other as politely
and more earnestly negatived, she seated herself.

Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and while they were thus
employed, Elizabeth could not help observing, as she turned
over some music-books 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 a man; and yet that he should look at her because he
disliked her, was still more strange. She could only imagine,
however, at last that she drew his notice because there was
something more wrong and reprehensible, according to his ideas
of right, than in any other person present. The supposition did
not pain her. She liked him too little to care for his approbation.

After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm
by a lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing
near Elizabeth, said to her:

"Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss 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 immediately
determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say
'Yes,' that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste;
but I always delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and
cheating a person of their meditated contempt. 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 be jealous; and her
great anxiety for the recovery of her dear friend Jane received
some assistance from her desire of getting rid of Elizabeth.

She often tried to provoke Darcy 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 sure the
younger girls of running after 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 anything else to propose for my domestic felicity?"

"Oh! yes. Do let the portraits of your uncle and aunt Phillips get
placed in the gallery at Pemberley. Put them next to your
great-uncle the judge. They are in the same profession, you
know, only in different lines. As for your Elizabeth's picture, you
must not 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 eyelashes, so remarkably fine, might
be copied."

At that moment they were met from another walk by Mrs. Hurst
and Elizabeth herself.

"I did not know that you intended to walk," said Miss Bingley,
in some confusion, lest they had been overheard.

"You used us abominably ill, "answered Mrs. Hurst, "running
away without telling us that you were coming out."

Then taking the disengaged arm of Mr. Darcy, she left Elizabeth
to walk by herself. The path just admitted three. Mr. Darcy felt
their 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 grouped, 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.

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 toward Darcy,
and she had something to say to him before he had advanced
many steps. He addressed himself 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 fireplace, that she might be further from the
door. He then sat down by her, and talked scarcely to anyone
else. Elizabeth, at work in the opposite corner, saw it all with
great delight.

When tea was over, Mr. Hurst reminded his sister-in-law of the
card-table-- but in vain. She had obtained private intelligence
that Mr. Darcy did not wish for cards; and Mr. Hurst soon found
even his open petition rejected. She assured him that no one
intended to play, and the silence of the whole party on the
subject seemed to justify her. Mr. Hurst had therefore nothing to
do, but to stretch himself on one of the sofas and go to sleep.
Darcy took up a book; Miss Bingley did the same; and Mrs.
Hurst, principally occupied in playing with her bracelets and
rings, joined now and then in her brother's conversation with
Miss Bennet.

Miss Bingley's attention was quite as much engaged in watching
Mr. Darcy's progress through HIS book, as in reading her own;
and she was perpetually either making some inquiry, or looking
at his page. She could not win him, however, 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 anything
than of a book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be
miserable if I have not an excellent library."

No one made any reply. She then yawned again, threw aside her
book, and cast her eyes round the room in quest for 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 determine on it,
to consult the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if
there are not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a
punishment than a pleasure."

"If you mean Darcy," cried her brother, "he may go to bed, if he
chooses, before it begins-- but as for the ball, it is quite a settled
thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough, I
shall send round my cards."

"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 were 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 she 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 join
their party, but he declined it, observing that he could imagine
but two motives for their choosing 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 Elizabeth 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 anything, 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 choose 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 would be completely in your way, and if
the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire."

"Oh! shocking!" cried Miss Bingley. "I never heard anything so
abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?"

"Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination," said Elizabeth.
"We can all plague and punish one another. Tease him-- laugh
at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be
done."

"But upon my honour, I do NOT. I do assure you that my
intimacy has not yet taught me THAT. Tease calmness of
manner and presence of mind! No, no-- 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
acquaintances. I dearly love a laugh."

"Miss Bingley," said he, "has given me more credit 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 and 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 anyone. 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 other so soon as I ought, nor their
offenses against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with
every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be
called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever."

"THAT is a failing indeed!" cried Elizabeth. "Implacable
resentment IS a shade in a character. But you have chosen your
fault well. I really cannot LAUGH at it. You are safe from me."

"There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some
particular evil-- a natural defect, which not even the best
education can overcome."

"And YOUR defect is to hate everybody."

"And yours, "he replied with a smile, "is willfully to
misunderstand 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 had not the smallest objection, and the pianoforte was
opened; and Darcy, after a few moments' recollection, was not
sorry for it. He began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too
much attention.

Chapter 12

In consequence of an agreement between the sisters, Elizabeth
wrote the next morning to their mother, to beg that the carriage
might be sent for them in the course of the day. But Mrs.
Bennet, who had calculated on her daughters remaining at
Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which would exactly
finish Jane's week, could not bring herself to receive them with
pleasure before. Her answer, therefore, was not propitious, at
least not to Elizabeth's wishes, for she was impatient to get
home. Mrs. Bennet sent them word that they could not possibly
have the carriage before 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 teasing
than usual to himself. He wisely resolved to be particularly
careful that no sign of admiration should NOW escape him,
nothing that could elevate her with the hope of influencing his
felicity; sensible that if such an idea had been suggested, his
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 agreeable
to almost all, took place. Miss Bingley's civility to Elizabeth
increased at last very rapidly, as well as her affection for Jane;
and when they parted, after assuring the latter of the pleasure it
would always give her to see her either at Longbourn or
Netherfield, and embracing her most tenderly, she even shook
hands with the former. Elizabeth took leave of the whole party
in the liveliest of 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 extracts to admire, and some
new observations of threadbare morality to listen to. Catherine
and Lydia had information for them of a different sort. Much
had been done and much had been said in the regiment since the
preceding Wednesday; several of the officers had dined lately
with their uncle, a private had been flogged, and it had actually
been hinted that colonel Foster was going to be married.

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! 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 his 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 tried to explain to her the nature of an entail.
They had often attempted to do 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 and 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 of inheriting
Longbourn. But if you will listen to his letter, you may perhaps
be a little softened by his manner of expressing himself."

"No, that I am sure I shall not; and I think it is very impertinent
of him to write to you at all, and very hypocritical. I hate such
false friends. Why could he not keep on quarreling with you, as
his father did before him?"

"Why, indeed; he does seem to have had some filial scruples on
that head, as you will hear."

"Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,
"15th October.
"Dear Sir,--
"The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late
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 by my own
doubts, fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for
me to be on good terms with anyone with whom it had always
pleased him to be at variance,-- 'There, Mrs. Bennet.'-- My
mind, however, is now made up on the subject, for having
received ordination at Easter, I have been so 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 preferred me to the valuable rectory
of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavour to demean
myself with grateful respect towards her Ladyship, and be ever
ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are instituted
by the Church of England. As a clergyman, moreover, I feel it
my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all
families within in the reach of my influence; and on these
grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures 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 otherwise than be concerned at being the means of
injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologise 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 18th, by four o'clock, and shall probably trespass on
your hospitality till the Saturday se'ennight 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, however,
and if he is disposed to make them any amends, I shall not be the
person to discourage him."

"Though it is difficult," said Jane, "to guess in what way he can
mean to make us the atonement he thinks our due, the wish is
certainly to his credit."

Elizabeth was chiefly struck by his extraordinary deference for
Lady Catherine, and his kind intention of christening, marrying,
and burying his parishioners whenever it were required.

"He must be an oddity, I think," said she. "I cannot make him
out. There is something very pompous in his style. And what
can he mean by apologising for being next in the entail? We
cannot suppose he would help it if he could. Could he be a
sensible man, sir?"

"No, my dear, I think not. I have great hopes of finding him
quite the reverse. Thee 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, "the letter does not seem
defective. The idea of the olive-branch perhaps is not wholly
new, yet I think it is well expressed."

To Catherine and Lydia, neither the letter nor its writer were in
any degree interesting. It was next to impossible that their
cousin should come in a scarlet coat, and it was now some
weeks since they had received pleasure from the society of a
man in any other colour. As for their mother, Mr. Collins's letter
had done away much of her ill-will, and she was preparing to see
him with a degree of composure which astonished her husband
and daughters.

Mr. Collins was punctual to his time, and was received with
great politeness by the whole family. Mr. Bennet indeed said
little; but the ladies were ready enough to talk, and Mr. Collins
seemed neither in need of 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 disposed of in
marriage. This gallantry was not much to the taste of some of
his hearers; but Mrs. Bennet, who quarreled with no
compliments, answered most readily.

"You are very kind, 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 such
things I know are all chance in this world. There is no knowing
how estates will go when once they come to be entailed."

"I am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to my fair cousins,
and could say much on the subject, but that I am cautious of
appearing forward and precipitate. But I can assure the young
ladies that I come prepared to admire them. At present I will
not say more; but, perhaps, when we are better acquainted-- "

He was interrupted by a summons to dinner; and the girls smiled
on each other. They were not the only objects of Mr. Collin's
admiration. The hall, the dining-room, and all its furniture, were
examined and praised; and his commendation of everything
would have touched Mrs. Bennet's heart, but for the mortifying
supposition of his viewing it all as his own future property. The
dinner too in its turn was highly admired; and he begged to
know to which of his fair cousins the excellency of its cooking
was owing. But he was set right there 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.

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
of 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 anything 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 the parish occasionally for a
week or two, to visit his relations. She had even condescended
to advise him to marry as soon as he could, provided he chose
with discretion; and had once paid him a visit in his humble
parsonage, where she had perfectly approved all the alterations
he had been making, and had even vouchsafed to suggest some
herself-- some shelves in the closet upstairs."

"That is all very proper and civil, I am sure," said Mrs. Bennet,
"and I dare say she is a very agreeable woman. It is a pity that
great ladies in general are not more like her. Does she live near
you, sir?"

"The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only
by a lane from Rosings Park, her ladyship's residence."

"I think you said she was a widow, sir? Has she any family?"

"She has only one daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of very
extensive property."

"Ah!" said 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 lady of distinguished birth.
She is unfortunately of a sickly constitution, which has prevented
her from making that progress in many accomplishments which
she could not have otherwise failed of, as I am informed by the
lady who superintended her education, and who still resides with
them. But she is perfectly amiable, and often condescends to
drive by my humble abode in her little phaeton and ponies."

"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 one day, has
deprived the British court of its brightest ornaments. Her
ladyship seemed pleased with the idea; and you may imagine that
I am happy on every occasion to offer those little delicate
compliments which are always acceptable to ladies. I have more
than once observed to Lady Catherine, that her charming
daughter seemed born to be a duchess, and that the most
elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence, would be
adorned by her. These are the kind of little things which please
her ladyship, and it is a sort of attention which I conceive myself
peculiarly bound to pay."

"You judge very properly," said Mr. Bennet, "and it is happy for
you that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I
ask whether these pleasing 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 occasional
glance at Elizabeth, requiring no partner in his pleasure.

By tea-time, however, the dose had been enough, and Mr.
Bennet was glad to take his guest into the drawing-room again,
and, when tea was over, glad to invite him to read aloud to the
ladies. Mr. Collins readily assented, and a book was produced;
but, on beholding it (for everything announced it to be from a
circulating library), he started back, and begging pardon,
protested that he never read novels. Kitty stared at him, and
Lydia exclaimed. Other books were produced, and after some
deliberation he chose Fordyce's Sermons. Lydia gaped as he
opened the volume, and before he had, with very monotonous
solemnity, read three pages, she interrupted him with:

"Do you know, mamma, that my uncle Phillips talks of turning
away Richard; and if he does, Colonel Forster will hire him. My
aunt told me so herself on Saturday. I shall walk to Meryton
to-morrow to hear more about it, and to ask when Mr. Denny
comes back from town."

Lydia was bid by her two eldest sisters to hold her tongue; but
Mr. Collins, much offended, laid aside his book, and said:

"I have often observed how little young ladies are interested by
books of a serious stamp, though written solely for their benefit.
It amazes me, I confess; for, certainly, there can be nothing so
advantageous to them as instruction. But I will no longer
importune my young cousin."

Then turning to Mr. Bennet, he offered himself as his antagonist
at backgammon. Mr. Bennet accepted the challenge, observing
that he acted very wisely in leaving the girls to their own trifling
amusements. Mrs. Bennet and her daughters 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.

Chapter 15

Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature
had been but little assisted by education or society; the greatest
part of his life having been spent under the guidance of an
illiterate and miserly father; and though he belonged to one of
the universities, he had merely kept the necessary terms, without
forming at it any useful acquaintance. The subjection in which
his father had brought him up had given him originally great
humility of manner; but it was now a good deal counteracted by
the self-conceit of a weak head, living in retirement, and the
consequential feelings of early and unexpected prosperity. A
fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de
Bourgh when the living of Hunsford was vacant; and the respect
which he felt for her high rank, and his veneration for her as his
patroness, mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his
authority as a clergyman, and his right as a rector, made him
altogether a mixture of pride and obsequiousness,
self-importance and humility.

Having now a good house and a very sufficient income, he
intended to marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the
Longbourn family he had a wife in view, as he meant to choose
one of the daughters, if he found them as handsome and amiable
as they were represented by common report. This was his plan
off 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 disinterested on his
own part.

His plan did not vary on seeing them. Miss Bennet's lovely face
confirmed his views, and established all his strictest notions of
what was due to seniority; and for the first evening SHE was his
settled choice. The next morning, however, made an alteration;
for in a quarter of an hour's tete-a-tete with Mrs. Bennet before
breakfast, a conversation beginning with his parsonage-house,
and leading naturally to the avowal of his hopes, that a mistress
might be found for it 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 himself; for
thither Mr. Collins had followed him after breakfast; and there he
would continue, nominally engaged with one of the largest folios
in the collection, but really talking to Mr. Bennet, with little
cessation, of his house and garden at Hunsford. Such doings
discomposed Mr. Bennet exceedingly. In his library he had been
always sure of leisure and tranquillity; and though prepared, as
he told Elizabeth, to meet with folly and conceit in every other
room of 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
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 recall
them.

But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man,
whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike
appearance, walking with another 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 pretense
of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately had
just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back,
had reached the same spot. Mr. Denny addressed them directly,
and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham,
who had returned with him the day before from town, and he
was happy to say had accepted a commission in their corps.
This was exactly as it should be; for the young man wanted only
regimentals to make him completely 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 Longbourn
on purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with
a bow, an 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. Phillip's house, and then made their bows, in
spite of Miss Lydia's pressing entreaties that they should come
in, and even in spite of Mrs. Phillips throwing up the parlour
window and loudly seconding the invitation.

Mrs. Phillips was always glad to see her nieces; and the two
eldest, from their recent absence, were particularly welcome, and
she was eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden return
home, which, as their own carriage had not fetched them, she
should have known nothing about, if she had not happened to
see Mr. Jones's shop-boy in the street, who had told her that
they were not to send any more draughts to Netherfield because
the Miss Bennets were come away, when her civility was
claimed towards Mr. Collins by Jane's introduction of him. She
received him with her very best politeness, which he returned
with as much more, 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 introduced him to her notice. Mrs.
Phillips was quite awed by such an excess of good breeding; but
her contemplation of one stranger was soon put to an end 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 commission in the ----shire. She had been watching
him the last hour, she said, as he walked up and down the street,
and had Mr. Wickham appeared, Kitty and Lydia would certainly
have continued the occupation, but unluckily no one passed
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 Phillipses 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.
Phillips protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy
game of lottery tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards.
The prospect of such delights was very cheering, and they parted
in mutual good spirits. Mr. Collins repeated his apologies in
quitting the room, and was assured with unwearying civility that
they were perfectly needless.

As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she had
seen pass between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would
have defended either or both, had they appeared to be in the
wrong, she could no more explain such behaviour than her sister.

Mr. Collins on his return highly gratified Mrs. Bennet by
admiring Mrs. Phillips'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 even pointedly included him in her
invitation for the next evening, although utterly unknown to her
before. Something, he supposed, might be attributed to his
connection with them, but yet he had never met with so much
attention in the whole course of his life.

Chapter 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 supposed
himself in the small summer breakfast parlour at Rosings; a
comparison that did not at first convey much gratification; but
when Mrs. Phillips 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 compliment, and would hardly have resented
a comparison with the housekeeper's room.

In describing to her all the grandeur of Lady Catherine and her
mansion, with occasional digressions in praise of his own humble
abode, and the improvements it was receiving, he was happily
employed until the gentlemen joined them; and he found in Mrs.
Phillips 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 instrument, and
examine their own indifferent imitations of china on the
mantelpiece, the interval of waiting appeared very long. It was
over at last, however. The gentlemen did approach, and when
Mr. Wickham walked into the room, Elizabeth felt that she had
neither been seeing him before, nor thinking of him since, with
the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. The officers of
the ----shire were in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike set,
and the best of them were of the present party; 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 Phillips, 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, made her feel that the commonest,
dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting by
the skill of the speaker.

With such rivals for the notice of the fair as Mr. Wickham and
the officers, Mr. Collins seemed to sink into insignificance; to
the young ladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still at
intervals a kind listener in Mrs. Phillips, and was by her
watchfulness, most abundantly supplied with coffee and muffin.
When the card-tables were placed, he had the opportunity of
obliging her in turn, 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 situation in life--" Mrs. Phillips
was very glad 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 talked; but being likewise extremely fond
of lottery tickets, she soon grew too much interested in the
game, too eager in making bets and exclaiming after prizes to
have attention for anyone in particular. Allowing for the
common demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was therefore at
leisure to talk to Elizabeth, and she was very willing to hear him,
though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be
told-- the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared
not even mention that gentleman. Her curiosity, 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 a hesitating manner how long Mr.
Darcy had been staying there.

"About a month," said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the
subject drop, added, "he is a man of very large property in
Derbyshire, I understand."

"Yes," replied Mr. Wickham; "his estate there is a noble one. A
clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a
person more capable of giving you certain information on that
head than myself, for I have been connected with his family in a
particular manner from my infancy."

Elizabeth could not but look surprised.

"You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion,
after seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our
meeting yesterday. Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?"

"As much as I ever wish to be," cried Elizabeth very warmly. "I
have spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him
very disagreeable."

"I have no right to give MY opinion," said Wickham, "as to his
being agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I
have known him too long and too well to be a fair judge. It is
impossible for ME to be impartial. But I believe your opinion of
him would in general astonish-- and perhaps you would not
express it quite so strongly anywhere else. Here you are in your
own family."

"Upon my word, I say no more HERE than I might say in any
house in the neighbourhood, except Netherfield. He is not at all
liked in Hertfordshire. Everybody is 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 chooses to be seen."

I should take him, even on MY slight acquaintance, to be an
ill-tempered man." Wickham 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 neighbourhood."

"Oh! no-- it is not for ME to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If
HE wishes to avoid seeing ME, he must go. We are not on
friendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I
have no reason for avoiding HIM but what I might proclaim
before all the world, a sense of very great ill-usage, and most
painful regrets at his being what he is. His father, Miss Bennet,
the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed,
and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be in company
with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by a
thousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been
scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him anything and
everything, 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 further inquiry.

Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton,
the neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all
that he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter 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 further by his account of their present
quarters, and the very great attentions and excellent
acquaintances 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 speaking of just now."

"Indeed!"

"Yes-- the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation
of the best living in his gift. He was my godfather, and
excessively attached to me. I cannot do justice to his kindness.
He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done it;
but when the living fell, it was given elsewhere."

"Good heavens!" cried Elizabeth; "but how could THAT be?
How could his will be disregarded? Why did you not 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 recommendation, and to assert
that I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence--
in short anything or nothing. Certain it is, that the living became
vacant two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it, and
that it was given to another man; and no less certain is it, that I
cannot accuse myself of having really done anything to deserve
to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may have
spoken my opinion OF him, and TO him, too freely. I can recall
nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sort of
men, and that he hates me."

"This is quite shocking! He deserves to be publicly disgraced."

"Some time or other he WILL be-- but it shall not be by ME.
Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose HIM."

Elizabeth 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 preference 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 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. Phillips, appears to do so much credit to-- but he
gave up everything to be of use to the late Mr. Darcy and
devoted all his time to the care of the Pemberley property. He
was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most intimate,
confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged himself to be
under the greatest obligations to my father's active
superintendence, and when, immediately before my father's
death, Mr. Darcy gave him a voluntary promise of providing for
me, I am convinced that he felt it to be as much a debt of
gratitude to HIM, as of his 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 had often been his best friend.
It has connected him nearer with virtue than with any other
feeling. But we are none of us consistent, and in his behaviour
to me there were stronger impulses even than pride."

"Can such abominable pride as his have ever done him good?"

"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 girl is Miss Darcy?"

He shook his head. "I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me
pain to speak ill of a Darcy. But she is too much like her
brother-- very, very proud. As a child, she was affectionate and
pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I have devoted hours
and hours to her amusement. But she is nothing to me now.
She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and, I
understand, highly accomplished. Since her father's death, her
home has been London, where a lady lives with her, and
superintends her education."

After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth
could not help reverting once more to the first, and saying:

"I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley! How can Mr.
Bingley, who seems good humour itself, and is, I really believe,
truly amiable, be in friendship with such a man? How can they
suit each other? Do you know Mr. Bingley?"

"Not at all."

"He is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot
know what Mr. Darcy is."

"Probably not; but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. He
does not want abilities. He can be a 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
gathered round the other table and Mr. Collins took his station
between his cousin Elizabeth and Mrs. Phillips. The usual
inquiries as to his success was made by the latter. It had not
been very great; he had lost every point; but when Mrs. Phillips
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 that 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 chances 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 was 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 for 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 authoritative manner,
and the rest from the pride for her nephew, who chooses 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 satisfaction till
supper put an end to cards, and gave the rest of the ladies their
share of Mr. Wickham's attentions. There could be no
conversation in the noise of Mrs. Phillips' supper party, but his
manners recommended him to everybody. 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. Phillips, protesting that he did not in the
least regard his losses at whist, enumerating all the dishes at
supper, and repeatedly fearing that he crowded his cousins, had
more to say than he could well manage before the carriage
stopped at Longbourn House.