An Invitation to Dinner

7/24/2019 An Invitation to Dinner

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An invitationAn invitation to dinner was soon afterwards dispatched; and alreadyhad Mrs. Bennet planned the courses that were to do credit to herhousekeeping, when an answer arrived which deferred it all. Mr. Bingleywas obliged to be in town the following day, and, consequently, unableto accept the honour of their invitation, etc. Mrs. Bennet was quitedisconcerted. She could not imagine what business he could have in townso soon after his arrival in ertfordshire; and she began to fear thathe might be always flying about from one place to another, and neversettled at !etherfield as he ought to be. "ady "ucas quieted her fearsa little by starting the idea of his being gone to "ondon only to geta large party for the ball; and a report soon followed that Mr. Bingleywas to bring twelve ladies and seven gentlemen with him to the assembly.#he girls grieved over such a number of ladies, but were comforted theday before the ball by hearing, that instead of twelve he brought onlysi$ with him from "ondon%%his five sisters and a cousin. And whenthe party entered the assembly room it consisted of only fivealtogether%%Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the eldest, andanother young man.

Mr. Bingley was good%looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasantcountenance, and easy, unaffected manners. is sisters were fine women,with an air of decided fashion. is brother%in%law, Mr. urst, merelylooked the gentleman; but his friend Mr. &arcy soon drew the attentionof the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien, andthe report which was in general circulation within five minutesafter his entrance, of his having ten thousand a year. #he gentlemenpronounced him to be a fine figure of a man, the ladies declared hewas much handsomer than Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at with greatadmiration for about half the evening, till his manners gave a disgustwhich turned the tide of his popularity; for he was discovered to beproud; to be above his company, and above being pleased; and not allhis large estate in &erbyshire could then save him from having a mostforbidding, disagreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be comparedwith his friend.

Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the principalpeople in the room; he was lively and unreserved, danced every dance,was angry that the ball closed so early, and talked of givingone himself at !etherfield. Such amiable qualities must speak forthemselves. 'hat a contrast between him and his friend( Mr. &arcy dancedonly once with Mrs. urst and once with Miss Bingley, declined beingintroduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening inwalking about the room, speaking occasionally to one of his own party.is character was decided. e was the proudest, most disagreeable manin the world, and everybody hoped that he would never come there again.

Amongst the most violent against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike ofhis general behaviour was sharpened into particular resentment by hishaving slighted one of her daughters.

)li*abeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen, to sitdown for two dances; and during part of that time, Mr. &arcy had beenstanding 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 friendto +oin it.



-ome, &arcy, said he, must have you dance. hate to see youstanding about by yourself in this stupid manner. /ou had much betterdance.

certainly shall not. /ou know how detest it, unless amparticularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as thisit would be insupportable. /our sisters are engaged, and there is notanother woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me tostand up with.

would not be so fastidious as you are, cried Mr. Bingley, for akingdom( 0pon my honour, never met with so many pleasant girls inmy life as have this evening; and there are several of them you seeuncommonly pretty.

1/ou1 are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room, said Mr.&arcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.

2h( She is the most beautiful creature ever beheld( But there is oneof her sisters sitting down +ust behind you, who is very pretty, and

dare say very agreeable. &o let me ask my partner to introduce you.

'hich do you mean3 and turning round he looked for a moment at)li*abeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said4She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt 1me1; am in nohumour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slightedby other men. /ou had better return to your partner and en+oy hersmiles, for you are wasting your time with me.

Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. &arcy walked off; and )li*abethremained 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.

#he evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole family. Mrs.Bennet had seen her eldest daughter much admired by the !etherfieldparty. Mr. Bingley had danced with her twice, and she had beendistinguished by his sisters. 5ane was as much gratified by this asher mother could be, though in a quieter way. )li*abeth felt 5ane6spleasure. Mary had heard herself mentioned to Miss Bingley as the mostaccomplished girl in the neighbourhood; and -atherine and "ydia had beenfortunate enough never to be without partners, which was all that theyhad yet learnt to care for at a ball. #hey returned, therefore, in goodspirits to "ongbourn, the village where they lived, and of which theywere the principal inhabitants. #hey found Mr. Bennet still up. 'itha book he was regardless of time; and on the present occasion he had agood deal of curiosity as to the event of an evening which had raised

such splendid e$pectations. e had rather hoped that his wife6s views onthe stranger would be disappointed; but he soon found out that he had adifferent story to hear.

2h( my dear Mr. Bennet, as she entered the room, we have had a mostdelightful evening, a most e$cellent ball. wish you had been there.5ane was so admired, nothing could be like it. )verybody said how wellshe looked; and Mr. Bingley thought her quite beautiful, and danced withher twice( 2nly think of 1that1, my dear; he actually danced with hertwice( and she was the only creature in the room that he asked a second



time. 7irst of all, he asked Miss "ucas. was so ve$ed to see him standup with her( But, however, he did not admire her at all; indeed, nobodycan, you know; and he seemed quite struck with 5ane as she was goingdown the dance. So he inquired who she was, and got introduced, andasked her for the two ne$t. #hen the two third he danced with Miss 8ing,and the two fourth with Maria "ucas, and the two fifth with 5ane again,and the two si$th with "i**y, and the 1Boulanger1%%

f he had had any compassion for 1me1, cried her husband impatiently,he would not have danced half so much( 7or 9od6s sake, say no more ofhis partners. 2h that he had sprained his ankle in the first dance(

2h( my dear, am quite delighted with him. e is so e$cessivelyhandsome( And his sisters are charming women. never in my life sawanything more elegant than their dresses. dare say the lace upon Mrs.urst6s gown%%

ere she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against anydescription of finery. She was therefore obliged to seek another branchof the sub+ect, and related, with much bitterness of spirit and some

e$aggeration, the shocking rudeness of Mr. &arcy.

But can assure you, she added, that "i**y does not lose much by notsuiting 1his1 fancy; for he is a most disagreeable, horrid man, not atall worth pleasing. So high and so conceited that there was no enduringhim( e walked here, and he walked there, fancying himself so verygreat( !ot handsome enough to dance with( wish you had been there, mydear, to have given him one of your set%downs. quite detest the man.

-hapter :

'hen 5ane and )li*abeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious inher praise of Mr. Bingley before, e$pressed to her sister +ust how verymuch she admired him.

e is +ust what a young man ought to be, said she, sensible,good%humoured, lively; and never saw such happy manners(%%so muchease, with such perfect good breeding(

e is also handsome, replied )li*abeth, which a young man oughtlikewise to be, if he possibly can. is character is thereby complete.

was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. did not e$pect such a compliment.

&id not you3 did for you. But that is one great difference betweenus. -ompliments always take 1you1 by surprise, and 1me1 never. 'hatcould be more natural than his asking you again3 e could not helpseeing that you were about five times as pretty as every other womanin the room. !o thanks to his gallantry for that. 'ell, he certainly isvery agreeable, and give you leave to like him. /ou have liked many astupider person.

&ear "i**y(



2h( you are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in general./ou never see a fault in anybody. All the world are good and agreeablein your eyes. never heard you speak ill of a human being in yourlife.

would not wish to be hasty in censuring anyone; but always speakwhat think.

know you do; and it is 1that1 which makes the wonder. 'ith 1your1good sense, to be so honestly blind to the follies and nonsense ofothers( Affectation of candour is common enough%%one meets with iteverywhere. But to be candid without ostentation or design%%to take thegood of everybody6s character and make it still better, and say nothingof the bad%%belongs to you alone. And so you like this man6s sisters,too, do you3 #heir manners are not equal to his.

-ertainly not%%at first. But they are very pleasing women when youconverse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother, and keephis house; and am much mistaken if we shall not find a very charming

neighbour in her.

)li*abeth listened in silence, but was not convinced; their behaviour atthe assembly had not been calculated to please in general; and with morequickness of observation and less pliancy of temper than her sister,and with a +udgement too unassailed by any attention to herself, shewas very little disposed to approve them. #hey were in fact very fineladies; not deficient in good humour when they were pleased, nor in thepower of making themselves agreeable when they chose it, but proud andconceited. #hey were rather handsome, had been educated in one of thefirst private seminaries in town, had a fortune of twenty thousandpounds, were in the habit of spending more than they ought, and ofassociating with people of rank, and were therefore in every respectentitled to think well of themselves, and meanly of others. #hey were ofa respectable family in the north of )ngland; a circumstance more deeplyimpressed on their memories than that their brother6s fortune and theirown had been acquired by trade.

Mr. Bingley inherited property to the amount of nearly a hundredthousand pounds from his father, who had intended to purchase anestate, but did not live to do it. Mr. Bingley intended it likewise, andsometimes made choice of his county; but as he was now provided with agood house and the liberty of a manor, it was doubtful to many of thosewho best knew the easiness of his temper, whether he might not spend theremainder of his days at !etherfield, and leave the ne$t generation topurchase.

is sisters were an$ious for his having an estate of his own; but,though he was now only established as a tenant, Miss Bingley was by nomeans unwilling to preside at his table%%nor was Mrs. urst, who hadmarried a man of more fashion than fortune, less disposed to considerhis house as her home when it suited her. Mr. Bingley had not been ofage two years, when he was tempted by an accidental recommendationto look at !etherfield ouse. e did look at it, and into it forhalf%an%hour%%was pleased with the situation and the principalrooms, satisfied with what the owner said in its praise, and took itimmediately.



Between him and &arcy there was a very steady friendship, in spite ofgreat opposition of character. Bingley was endeared to &arcy by theeasiness, openness, and ductility of his temper, though no dispositioncould offer a greater contrast to his own, and though with his own henever appeared dissatisfied. 2n the strength of &arcy6s regard, Bingleyhad the firmest reliance, and of his +udgement the highest opinion.n understanding, &arcy was the superior. Bingley was by no meansdeficient, but &arcy was clever. e was at the same time haughty,reserved, and fastidious, and his manners, though well%bred, were notinviting. n that respect his friend had greatly the advantage. Bingleywas sure of being liked wherever he appeared, &arcy was continuallygiving offense.

#he manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was sufficientlycharacteristic. Bingley had never met with more pleasant people orprettier girls in his life; everybody had been most kind and attentiveto him; there had been no formality, no stiffness; he had soon feltacquainted with all the room; and, as to Miss Bennet, he could notconceive an angel more beautiful. &arcy, on the contrary, had seen a

collection of people in whom there was little beauty and no fashion, fornone of whom he had felt the smallest interest, and from none receivedeither attention or pleasure. Miss Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty,but she smiled too much.

Mrs. urst and her sister allowed it to be so%%but still they admiredher and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and onewhom they would not ob+ect to know more of. Miss Bennet was thereforeestablished as a sweet girl, and their brother felt authori*ed by suchcommendation to think of her as he chose.

-hapter

'ithin a short walk of "ongbourn lived a family with whom the Bennetswere particularly intimate. Sir 'illiam "ucas had been formerly in tradein Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune, and risen to thehonour of knighthood by an address to the king during his mayoralty.#he distinction had perhaps been felt too strongly. t had given him adisgust 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 houseabout a mile from Meryton, denominated from that period "ucas "odge,where he could think with pleasure of his own importance, and,unshackled by business, occupy himself solely in being civil to allthe world. 7or, though elated by his rank, it did not render him

supercilious; on the contrary, he was all attention to everybody. Bynature inoffensive, friendly, and obliging, his presentation at St.5ames6s had made him courteous.

"ady "ucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be avaluable neighbour to Mrs. Bennet. #hey had several children. #he eldestof them, a sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty%seven, was)li*abeth6s intimate friend.

#hat the Miss "ucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over



a ball was absolutely necessary; and the morning after the assemblybrought the former to "ongbourn to hear and to communicate.

1/ou1 began the evening well, -harlotte, said Mrs. Bennet with civilself%command to Miss "ucas. 1/ou1 were Mr. Bingley6s first choice.

/es; but he seemed to like his second better.

2h( you mean 5ane, suppose, because he danced with her twice. #o besure that 1did1 seem as if he admired her%%indeed rather believe he1did1%% heard something about it%%but hardly know what%%somethingabout Mr. <obinson.

=erhaps you mean what overheard between him and Mr. <obinson; did not mention it to you3 Mr. <obinson6s asking him how he liked our Merytonassemblies, and whether he did not think there were a great manypretty women in the room, and 1which1 he thought the prettiest3 and hisanswering immediately to the last question4 62h( the eldest Miss Bennet,beyond a doubt; there cannot be two opinions on that point.6

0pon my word( 'ell, that is very decided indeed%%that does seem asif%%but, however, it may all come to nothing, you know.

1My1 overhearings were more to the purpose than 1yours1, )li*a, said-harlotte. Mr. &arcy is not so well worth listening to as his friend,is he3%%poor )li*a(%%to be only +ust 1tolerable1.

beg you would not put it into "i**y6s head to be ve$ed by hisill%treatment, for he is such a disagreeable man, that it would be quitea misfortune to be liked by him. Mrs. "ong told me last night that hesat close to her for half%an%hour without once opening his lips.

Are you quite sure, ma6am3%%is not there a little mistake3 said 5ane. certainly saw Mr. &arcy speaking to her.

Aye%%because she asked him at last how he liked !etherfield, and hecould not help answering her; but she said he seemed quite angry atbeing spoke to.

Miss Bingley told me, said 5ane, that he never speaks much,unless among his intimate acquaintances. 'ith 1them1 he is remarkablyagreeable.

do not believe a word of it, my dear. f he had been so veryagreeable, he would have talked to Mrs. "ong. But can guess how itwas; everybody says that he is eat up with pride, and dare say he hadheard somehow that Mrs. "ong does not keep a carriage, and had come to

the ball in a hack chaise.

do not mind his not talking to Mrs. "ong, said Miss "ucas, but wish he had danced with )li*a.

Another time, "i**y, said her mother, would not dance with 1him1,if were you.

believe, ma6am, may safely promise you 1never1 to dance with him.



is pride, said Miss "ucas, does not offend 1me1 so much as prideoften does, because there is an e$cuse for it. 2ne cannot wonder that sovery fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favour,should think highly of himself. f may so e$press it, he has a 1right1to be proud.

#hat is very true, replied )li*abeth, and could easily forgive1his1 pride, if he had not mortified 1mine1.

=ride, observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of herreflections, is a very common failing, believe. By all that haveever read, am convinced that it is very common indeed; that humannature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of uswho do not cherish a feeling of self%complacency on the score of somequality or other, real or imaginary. >anity and pride are differentthings, though the words are often used synonymously. A person maybe proud without being vain. =ride relates more to our opinion ofourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.

f were as rich as Mr. &arcy, cried a young "ucas, who came with

his sisters, should not care how proud was. would keep a pack offo$hounds, and drink a bottle of wine a day.

#hen you would drink a great deal more than you ought, said Mrs.Bennet; and if were to see you at it, should take away your bottledirectly.

#he boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that shewould, and the argument ended only with the visit.

-hapter ?

#he ladies of "ongbourn soon waited on those of !etherfield. #he visitwas soon returned in due form. Miss Bennet6s pleasing manners grew onthe goodwill of Mrs. urst and Miss Bingley; and though the mother wasfound to be intolerable, and the younger sisters not worth speaking to,a wish of being better acquainted with 1them1 was e$pressed towardsthe two eldest. By 5ane, this attention was received with the greatestpleasure, but )li*abeth still saw superciliousness in their treatmentof everybody, hardly e$cepting even her sister, and could not like them;though their kindness to 5ane, such as it was, had a value as arising inall probability from the influence of their brother6s admiration. twas generally evident whenever they met, that he 1did1 admire her andto 1her1 it was equally evident that 5ane was yielding to the preference

which she had begun to entertain for him from the first, and was in away to be very much in love; but she considered with pleasure that itwas not likely to be discovered by the world in general, since 5aneunited, with great strength of feeling, a composure of temper and auniform cheerfulness of manner which would guard her from the suspicionsof the impertinent. She mentioned this to her friend Miss "ucas.

t may perhaps be pleasant, replied -harlotte, to be able to imposeon the public in such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to beso very guarded. f a woman conceals her affection with the same skill



from the ob+ect of it, she may lose the opportunity of fi$ing him; andit will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally inthe dark. #here is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost everyattachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. 'e can all1begin1 freely%%a slight preference is natural enough; but there arevery few of us who have heart enough to be really in love withoutencouragement. n nine cases out of ten a women had better show 1more1affection than she feels. Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly; but hemay 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. f canperceive her regard for him, he must be a simpleton, indeed, not todiscover it too.

<emember, )li*a, that he does not know 5ane6s disposition as you do.

But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavour to concealit, he must find it out.

=erhaps he must, if he sees enough of her. But, though Bingley and 5ane

meet tolerably often, it is never for many hours together; and, as theyalways see each other in large mi$ed parties, it is impossible thatevery moment should be employed in conversing together. 5ane shouldtherefore make the most of every half%hour in which she can command hisattention. 'hen she is secure of him, there will be more leisure forfalling in love as much as she chooses.

/our plan is a good one, replied )li*abeth, where nothing is inquestion but the desire of being well married, and if were determinedto get a rich husband, or any husband, dare say should adopt it. Butthese are not 5ane6s feelings; she is not acting by design. As yet,she cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard nor of itsreasonableness. She has known him only a fortnight. She danced fourdances with him at Meryton; she saw him one morning at his own house,and has since dined with him in company four times. #his is not quiteenough to make her understand his character.

!ot as you represent it. ad she merely 1dined1 with him, she mightonly have discovered whether he had a good appetite; but you mustremember that four evenings have also been spent together%%and fourevenings may do a great deal.

/es; these four evenings have enabled them to ascertain that theyboth like >ingt%un better than -ommerce; but with respect to any otherleading characteristic, do not imagine that much has been unfolded.

'ell, said -harlotte, wish 5ane success with all my heart; and

if she were married to him to%morrow, should think she had as good achance of happiness as if she were to be studying his character for atwelvemonth. appiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. fthe dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other orever so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in theleast. #hey always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards tohave their share of ve$ation; and it is better to know as little aspossible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass yourlife.



/ou make me laugh, -harlotte; but it is not sound. /ou know it is notsound, and that you would never act in this way yourself.

2ccupied in observing Mr. Bingley6s attentions to her sister, )li*abethwas far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an ob+ect of someinterest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. &arcy had at first scarcelyallowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her without admiration at theball; and when they ne$t met, he looked at her only to criticise. But nosooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she hardlyhad a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendereduncommonly intelligent by the beautiful e$pression of her dark eyes. #othis discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. #hough he haddetected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetryin her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light andpleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not thoseof the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness. 2fthis she was perfectly unaware; to her he was only the man who madehimself agreeable nowhere, and who had not thought her handsome enoughto dance with.

e began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards conversingwith her himself, attended to her conversation with others. is doing sodrew her notice. t was at Sir 'illiam "ucas6s, where a large party wereassembled.

'hat does Mr. &arcy mean, said she to -harlotte, by listening to myconversation with -olonel 7orster3

#hat is a question which Mr. &arcy only can answer.

But if he does it any more shall certainly let him know that seewhat he is about. e has a very satirical eye, and if do not begin bybeing impertinent myself, shall soon grow afraid of him.

2n his approaching them soon afterwards, though without seeming to haveany intention of speaking, Miss "ucas defied her friend to mention sucha sub+ect to him; which immediately provoking )li*abeth to do it, sheturned to him and said4

&id you not think, Mr. &arcy, that e$pressed myself uncommonlywell +ust now, when was teasing -olonel 7orster to give us a ball atMeryton3

'ith great energy; but it is always a sub+ect which makes a ladyenergetic.

/ou are severe on us.

t will be 1her1 turn soon to be teased, said Miss "ucas. am goingto open the instrument, )li*a, and you know what follows.

/ou are a very strange creature by way of a friend(%%always wanting meto play and sing before anybody and everybody( f my vanity had takena musical turn, you would have been invaluable; but as it is, wouldreally rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit ofhearing the very best performers. 2n Miss "ucas6s persevering, however,she added, >ery well, if it must be so, it must. And gravely glancing



at Mr. &arcy, #here is a fine old saying, which everybody here is ofcourse familiar with4 68eep your breath to cool your porridge6; and shall keep mine to swell my song.

er performance was pleasing, though by no means capital. After a songor two, and before she could reply to the entreaties of several thatshe would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded at the instrument by hersister Mary, who having, in consequence of being the only plain one inthe family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was alwaysimpatient for display.

Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given herapplication, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceitedmanner, which would have in+ured a higher degree of e$cellence than shehad reached. )li*abeth, easy and unaffected, had been listened to withmuch more pleasure, though not playing half so well; and Mary, at theend of a long concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude byScotch and rish airs, at the request of her younger sisters, who,with some of the "ucases, and two or three officers, +oined eagerly indancing at one end of the room.

Mr. &arcy stood near them in silent indignation at such a mode ofpassing the evening, to the e$clusion of all conversation, and was toomuch engrossed by his thoughts to perceive that Sir 'illiam "ucas washis neighbour, till Sir 'illiam thus began4

'hat a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. &arcy( #hereis nothing like dancing after all. consider it as one of the firstrefinements of polished society.

-ertainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongstthe less polished societies of the world. )very savage can dance.

Sir 'illiam only smiled. /our friend performs delightfully, hecontinued after a pause, on seeing Bingley +oin the group; and doubtnot that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. &arcy.

/ou saw me dance at Meryton, believe, sir.

/es, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. &oyou often dance at St. 5ames6s3

!ever, sir.

&o you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place3

t is a compliment which never pay to any place if can avoid it.

/ou have a house in town, conclude3

Mr. &arcy bowed.

had once had some thought of fi$ing in town myself%%for am fondof superior society; but did not feel quite certain that the air of"ondon would agree with "ady "ucas.

e paused in hopes of an answer; but his companion was not disposed



to make any; and )li*abeth at that instant moving towards them, he wasstruck with the action of doing a very gallant thing, and called out toher4

My dear Miss )li*a, why are you not dancing3 Mr. &arcy, you must allowme to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. /oucannot refuse to dance, am sure when so much beauty is before you.And, taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr. &arcy who, thoughe$tremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantlydrew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir 'illiam4

ndeed, sir, have not the least intention of dancing. entreat younot to suppose that moved this way in order to beg for a partner.

Mr. &arcy, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the honour ofher hand, but in vain. )li*abeth was determined; nor did Sir 'illiam atall shake her purpose by his attempt at persuasion.

/ou e$cel so much in the dance, Miss )li*a, that it is cruel to denyme the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the

amusement in general, he can have no ob+ection, am sure, to oblige usfor one half%hour.

Mr. &arcy is all politeness, said )li*abeth, smiling.

e is, indeed; but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss )li*a,we cannot wonder at his complaisance%%for who would ob+ect to such apartner3

)li*abeth looked archly, and turned away. er resistance had notin+ured her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her with somecomplacency, when thus accosted by Miss Bingley4

can guess the sub+ect of your reverie.

should imagine not.

/ou are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many eveningsin this manner%%in such society; and indeed am quite of your opinion. was never more annoyed( #he insipidity, and yet the noise%%thenothingness, and yet the self%importance of all those people( 'hat would give to hear your strictures on them(

/our con+ecture is totally wrong, assure you. My mind was moreagreeably engaged. have been meditating on the very great pleasurewhich a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.

Miss Bingley immediately fi$ed her eyes on his face, and desired hewould tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections.Mr. &arcy replied with great intrepidity4

Miss )li*abeth Bennet.

Miss )li*abeth Bennet( repeated Miss Bingley. am all astonishment.ow long has she been such a favourite3%%and pray, when am to wish you+oy3



#hat is e$actly the question which e$pected you to ask. A lady6simagination is very rapid; it +umps from admiration to love, from loveto matrimony, in a moment. knew you would be wishing me +oy.

!ay, if you are serious about it, shall consider the matter isabsolutely settled. /ou will be having a charming mother%in%law, indeed;and, of course, she will always be at =emberley with you.

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

-hapter @

Mr. Bennet6s property consisted almost entirely in an estate of twothousand a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, was entailed,in default of heirs male, on a distant relation; and their mother6s

fortune, though ample for her situation in life, could but ill supplythe deficiency of his. er father had been an attorney in Meryton, andhad left her four thousand pounds.

She had a sister married to a Mr. =hillips, who had been a clerk totheir father and succeeded him in the business, and a brother settled in"ondon in a respectable line of trade.

#he village of "ongbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a mostconvenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually temptedthither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to their aunt andto a milliner6s shop +ust over the way. #he two youngest of the family,-atherine and "ydia, were particularly frequent in these attentions;their minds were more vacant than their sisters6, and when nothingbetter offered, a walk to Meryton was necessary to amuse their morninghours and furnish conversation for the evening; and however bare of newsthe country in general might be, they always contrived to learn somefrom their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both withnews and happiness by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in theneighbourhood; it was to remain the whole winter, and Meryton was theheadquarters.

#heir visits to Mrs. =hillips were now productive of the mostinteresting intelligence. )very day added something to their knowledgeof the officers6 names and connections. #heir lodgings were not long asecret, and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Mr.=hillips visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a store of

felicity unknown before. #hey could talk of nothing but officers; andMr. Bingley6s large fortune, the mention of which gave animationto their mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to theregimentals of an ensign.

After listening one morning to their effusions on this sub+ect, Mr.Bennet coolly observed4

7rom all that can collect by your manner of talking, you must be twoof the silliest girls in the country. have suspected it some time, but



am now convinced.

-atherine was disconcerted, and made no answer; but "ydia, with perfectindifference, continued to e$press her admiration of -aptain -arter,and her hope of seeing him in the course of the day, as he was going thene$t morning to "ondon.

am astonished, my dear, said Mrs. Bennet, that you should be soready to think your own children silly. f wished to think slightinglyof anybody6s children, it should not be of my own, however.

f my children are silly, must hope to be always sensible of it.

/es%%but as it happens, they are all of them very clever.

#his is the only point, flatter myself, on which we do not agree. had hoped that our sentiments coincided in every particular, but mustso far differ from you as to think our two youngest daughters uncommonlyfoolish.

My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not e$pect such girls to have the sense oftheir father and mother. 'hen they get to our age, dare say they willnot think about officers any more than we do. remember the time when liked a red coat myself very well%%and, indeed, so do still at myheart; and if a smart young colonel, with five or si$ thousand a year,should want one of my girls shall not say nay to him; and thought-olonel 7orster looked very becoming the other night at Sir 'illiam6s inhis regimentals.

Mamma, cried "ydia, my aunt says that -olonel 7orster and -aptain-arter do not go so often to Miss 'atson6s as they did when they firstcame; she sees them now very often standing in -larke6s library.

Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by the entrance of the footman witha note for Miss Bennet; it came from !etherfield, and the servant waitedfor an answer. Mrs. Bennet6s eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she waseagerly calling out, while her daughter read,

'ell, 5ane, who is it from3 'hat is it about3 'hat does he say3 'ell,5ane, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love.

t is from Miss Bingley, said 5ane, and then read it aloud.

M/ &)A< 7<)!&,%%

f you are not so compassionate as to dine to%day with "ouisa and me,we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives,

for a whole day6s tete%a%tete between two women can never end without aquarrel. -ome as soon as you can on receipt of this. My brother and thegentlemen are to dine with the officers.%%/ours ever,

-A<2"!) B!9")/

'ith the officers( cried "ydia. wonder my aunt did not tell us of1that1.

&ining out, said Mrs. Bennet, that is very unlucky.



-an have the carriage3 said 5ane.

!o, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems likely torain; and then you must stay all night.

#hat would be a good scheme, said )li*abeth, if you were sure thatthey would not offer to send her home.

2h( but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley6s chaise to go to Meryton,and the ursts have no horses to theirs.

had much rather go in the coach.

But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, am sure. #hey arewanted in the farm, Mr. Bennet, are they not3

#hey are wanted in the farm much oftener than can get them.

But if you have got them to%day, said )li*abeth, my mother6s purpose

will be answered.

She did at last e$tort from her father an acknowledgment that the horseswere engaged. 5ane was therefore obliged to go on horseback, and hermother attended her to the door with many cheerful prognostics of abad day. er hopes were answered; 5ane had not been gone long beforeit rained hard. er sisters were uneasy for her, but her mother wasdelighted. #he rain continued the whole evening without intermission;5ane certainly could not come back.

#his was a lucky idea of mine, indeed( said Mrs. Bennet more thanonce, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own. #ill thene$t morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of hercontrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from !etherfieldbrought the following note for )li*abeth4

M/ &)A<)S# "/,%%

find myself very unwell this morning, which, suppose, is to beimputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will nothear of my returning till am better. #hey insist also on my seeing Mr.5ones%%therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having beento me%%and, e$cepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much thematter with me.%%/ours, etc.

'ell, my dear, said Mr. Bennet, when )li*abeth had read the notealoud, 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 ofMr. Bingley, and under your orders.

2h( am not afraid of her dying. =eople do not die of little triflingcolds. She will be taken good care of. As long as she stays there, it isall very well. would go and see her if could have the carriage.

)li*abeth, feeling really an$ious, was determined to go to her, thoughthe carriage was not to be had; and as she was no horsewoman, walkingwas her only alternative. She declared her resolution.



ow can you be so silly, cried her mother, as to think of such athing, in all this dirt( /ou will not be fit to be seen when you getthere.

shall be very fit to see 5ane%%which is all want.

s this a hint to me, "i**y, said her father, to send for thehorses3

!o, indeed, do not wish to avoid the walk. #he distance is nothingwhen one has a motive; only three miles. shall be back by dinner.

admire the activity of your benevolence, observed Mary, but everyimpulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion,e$ertion should always be in proportion to what is required.

'e will go as far as Meryton with you, said -atherine and "ydia.)li*abeth accepted their company, and the three young ladies set offtogether.

f we make haste, said "ydia, as they walked along, perhaps we maysee something of -aptain -arter before he goes.

n Meryton they parted; the two youngest repaired to the lodgings of oneof the officers6 wives, and )li*abeth continued her walk alone, crossingfield after field at a quick pace, +umping over stiles and springingover puddles with impatient activity, and finding herself at lastwithin view of the house, with weary ankles, dirty stockings, and a faceglowing with the warmth of e$ercise.

She was shown into the breakfast%parlour, where all but 5ane wereassembled, and where her appearance created a great deal of surprise.#hat she should have walked three miles so early in the day, in suchdirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to Mrs. urst andMiss Bingley; and )li*abeth was convinced that they held her in contemptfor it. She was received, however, very politely by them; and in theirbrother6s manners there was something better than politeness; therewas good humour and kindness. Mr. &arcy said very little, and Mr.urst nothing at all. #he former was divided between admiration of thebrilliancy which e$ercise had given to her comple$ion, and doubt asto the occasion6s +ustifying her coming so far alone. #he latter wasthinking only of his breakfast.

er inquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered. MissBennet had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish, and notwell enough to leave her room. )li*abeth was glad to be taken to her

immediately; and 5ane, who had only been withheld by the fear of givingalarm or inconvenience from e$pressing in her note how much she longedfor such a visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was not equal,however, to much conversation, and when Miss Bingley left themtogether, could attempt little besides e$pressions of gratitude for thee$traordinary kindness she was treated with. )li*abeth silently attendedher.

'hen breakfast was over they were +oined by the sisters; and )li*abethbegan to like them herself, when she saw how much affection and



solicitude they showed for 5ane. #he apothecary came, and havinge$amined his patient, said, as might be supposed, that she had caughta violent cold, and that they must endeavour to get the better of it;advised her to return to bed, and promised her some draughts. #he advicewas followed readily, for the feverish symptoms increased, and her headached acutely. )li*abeth did not quit her room for a moment; nor werethe other ladies often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had, infact, nothing to do elsewhere.

'hen the clock struck three, )li*abeth felt that she must go, and veryunwillingly said so. Miss Bingley offered her the carriage, and she onlywanted a little pressing to accept it, when 5ane testified such concernin parting with her, that Miss Bingley was obliged to convert the offerof the chaise to an invitation to remain at !etherfield for the present.)li*abeth most thankfully consented, and a servant was dispatched to"ongbourn to acquaint the family with her stay and bring back a supplyof clothes.

-hapter

At five o6clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half%past si$)li*abeth was summoned to dinner. #o the civil inquiries which thenpoured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of distinguishing themuch superior solicitude of Mr. Bingley6s, she could not make a veryfavourable answer. 5ane was by no means better. #he sisters, on hearingthis, repeated three or four times how much they were grieved, howshocking it was to have a bad cold, and how e$cessively they dislikedbeing ill themselves; and then thought no more of the matter4 and theirindifference towards 5ane when not immediately before them restored)li*abeth to the en+oyment of all her former dislike.

#heir brother, indeed, was the only one of the party whom she couldregard with any complacency. is an$iety for 5ane was evident, and hisattentions to herself most pleasing, and they prevented her feelingherself so much an intruder as she believed she was considered by theothers. She had very little notice from any but him. Miss Bingley wasengrossed by Mr. &arcy, her sister scarcely less so; and as for Mr.urst, by whom )li*abeth sat, he was an indolent man, who lived only toeat, drink, and play at cards; who, when he found her to prefer a plaindish to a ragout, had nothing to say to her.

'hen dinner was over, she returned directly to 5ane, and Miss Bingleybegan abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. er manners werepronounced to be very bad indeed, a mi$ture of pride and impertinence;

she had no conversation, no style, no beauty. Mrs. urst thought thesame, and added4

She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an e$cellentwalker. shall never forget her appearance this morning. She reallylooked almost wild.

She did, indeed, "ouisa. could hardly keep my countenance. >erynonsensical to come at all( 'hy must 1she1 be scampering about thecountry, because her sister had a cold3 er hair, so untidy, so blowsy(



/es, and her petticoat; hope you saw her petticoat, si$ inches deepin mud, am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down tohide it not doing its office.

/our picture may be very e$act, "ouisa, said Bingley; but this wasall lost upon me. thought Miss )li*abeth Bennet looked remarkablywell when she came into the room this morning. er dirty petticoat quiteescaped my notice.

1/ou1 observed it, Mr. &arcy, am sure, said Miss Bingley; and aminclined to think that you would not wish to see 1your1 sister make suchan e$hibition.

-ertainly not.

#o walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is,above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone( 'hat could she mean byit3 t seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence,a most country%town indifference to decorum.

t shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing, saidBingley.

am afraid, Mr. &arcy, observed Miss Bingley in a half whisper, thatthis adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes.

!ot at all, he replied; they were brightened by the e$ercise. Ashort pause followed this speech, and Mrs. urst began again4

have an e$cessive regard for Miss 5ane Bennet, she is really a verysweet girl, and wish with all my heart she were well settled. But withsuch a father and mother, and such low connections, am afraid there isno chance of it.

think have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney inMeryton.

/es; and they have another, who lives somewhere near -heapside.

#hat is capital, added her sister, and they both laughed heartily.

f they had uncles enough to fill 1all1 -heapside, cried Bingley, itwould not make them one +ot less agreeable.

But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of anyconsideration in the world, replied &arcy.

#o this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisters gave it theirhearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the e$pense oftheir dear friend6s vulgar relations.

'ith a renewal of tenderness, however, they returned to her room onleaving the dining%parlour, and sat with her till summoned to coffee.She was still very poorly, and )li*abeth would not quit her at all, tilllate in the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her sleep, andwhen it seemed to her rather right than pleasant that she should go



downstairs herself. 2n entering the drawing%room she found the wholeparty at loo, and was immediately invited to +oin them; but suspectingthem to be playing high she declined it, and making her sister thee$cuse, said she would amuse herself for the short time she could staybelow, with a book. Mr. urst looked at her with astonishment.

&o you prefer reading to cards3 said he; that is rather singular.

Miss )li*a Bennet, said Miss Bingley, despises cards. She is a greatreader, and has no pleasure in anything else.

deserve neither such praise nor such censure, cried )li*abeth; am1not1 a great reader, and have pleasure in many things.

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

)li*abeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards thetable where a few books were lying. e immediately offered to fetch herothers%%all that his library afforded.

And wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my owncredit; but am an idle fellow, and though have not many, have morethan ever looked into.

)li*abeth assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with thosein the room.

am astonished, said Miss Bingley, that my father should have leftso small a collection of books. 'hat a delightful library you have at=emberley, Mr. &arcy(

t ought to be good, he replied, it has been the work of manygenerations.

And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buyingbooks.

cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days asthese.

!eglect( am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties ofthat noble place. -harles, when you build 1your1 house, wish it may behalf as delightful as =emberley.

wish it may.

But would really advise you to make your purchase in thatneighbourhood, and take =emberley for a kind of model. #here is not afiner county in )ngland than &erbyshire.

'ith all my heart; will buy =emberley itself if &arcy will sell it.

am talking of possibilities, -harles.

0pon my word, -aroline, should think it more possible to get=emberley by purchase than by imitation.



)li*abeth was so much caught with what passed, as to leave her verylittle attention for her book; and soon laying it wholly aside, she drewnear the card%table, and stationed herself between Mr. Bingley and hiseldest sister, to observe the game.

s Miss &arcy much grown since the spring3 said Miss Bingley; willshe be as tall as am3

think she will. She is now about Miss )li*abeth Bennet6s height, orrather taller.

ow long to see her again( never met with anybody who delighted meso much. Such a countenance, such manners( And so e$tremely accomplishedfor her age( er performance on the pianoforte is e$quisite.

t is ama*ing to me, said Bingley, how young ladies can have patienceto be so very accomplished as they all are.

All young ladies accomplished( My dear -harles, what do you mean3

/es, all of them, think. #hey all paint tables, cover screens, andnet purses. scarcely know anyone who cannot do all this, and am sure never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without beinginformed that she was very accomplished.

/our list of the common e$tent of accomplishments, said &arcy, hastoo much truth. #he word is applied to many a woman who deserves it nootherwise than by netting a purse or covering a screen. But am veryfar from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. cannot boast of knowing more than half%a%do*en, in the whole range of myacquaintance, that are really accomplished.

!or , am sure, said Miss Bingley.

#hen, observed )li*abeth, you must comprehend a great deal in youridea of an accomplished woman.

/es, do comprehend a great deal in it.

2h( certainly, cried his faithful assistant, no one can be reallyesteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually metwith. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing,dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besidesall this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner ofwalking, the tone of her voice, her address and e$pressions, or the wordwill be but half%deserved.

All this she must possess, added &arcy, and to all this she mustyet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind bye$tensive reading.

am no longer surprised at your knowing 1only1 si$ accomplished women. rather wonder now at your knowing 1any1.

Are you so severe upon your own se$ as to doubt the possibility of allthis3



never saw such a woman. never saw such capacity, and taste, andapplication, and elegance, as you describe united.

Mrs. urst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the in+ustice of herimplied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many women whoanswered this description, when Mr. urst called them to order, withbitter complaints of their inattention to what was going forward. As allconversation was thereby at an end, )li*abeth soon afterwards left theroom.

)li*abeth Bennet, said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on her,is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to theother se$ by undervaluing their own; and with many men, dare say, itsucceeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art.

0ndoubtedly, replied &arcy, to whom this remark was chiefly addressed,there is a meanness in 1all1 the arts which ladies sometimes condescendto employ for captivation. 'hatever bears affinity to cunning isdespicable.

Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as tocontinue the sub+ect.

)li*abeth +oined them again only to say that her sister was worse, andthat she could not leave her. Bingley urged Mr. 5ones being sent forimmediately; while his sisters, convinced that no country advice couldbe of any service, recommended an e$press to town for one of the mosteminent physicians. #his she would not hear of; but she was not sounwilling to comply with their brother6s proposal; and it was settledthat Mr. 5ones should be sent for early in the morning, if Miss Bennetwere not decidedly better. Bingley was quite uncomfortable; his sistersdeclared that they were miserable. #hey solaced their wretchedness,however, by duets after supper, while he could find no better reliefto his feelings than by giving his housekeeper directions that everyattention might be paid to the sick lady and her sister.

-hapter C

)li*abeth passed the chief of the night in her sister6s room, and in themorning had the pleasure of being able to send a tolerable answer to theinquiries which she very early received from Mr. Bingley by a housemaid,and some time afterwards from the two elegant ladies who waited on hissisters. n spite of this amendment, however, she requested to have a

note sent to "ongbourn, desiring her mother to visit 5ane, and form herown +udgement of her situation. #he note was immediately dispatched, andits contents as quickly complied with. Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by hertwo youngest girls, reached !etherfield soon after the family breakfast.

ad she found 5ane in any apparent danger, Mrs. Bennet would have beenvery miserable; but being satisfied on seeing her that her illness wasnot alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately, as herrestoration to health would probably remove her from !etherfield. Shewould not listen, therefore, to her daughter6s proposal of being carried



home; neither did the apothecary, who arrived about the same time, thinkit at all advisable. After sitting a little while with 5ane, on MissBingley6s appearance and invitation, the mother and three daughters allattended her into the breakfast parlour. Bingley met them with hopesthat Mrs. Bennet had not found Miss Bennet worse than she e$pected.

ndeed have, sir, was her answer. She is a great deal too ill to bemoved. Mr. 5ones says we must not think of moving her. 'e must trespassa little longer on your kindness.

<emoved( cried Bingley. t must not be thought of. My sister, amsure, will not hear of her removal.

/ou may depend upon it, Madam, said Miss Bingley, with cold civility,that Miss Bennet will receive every possible attention while sheremains with us.

Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments.

am sure, she added, if it was not for such good friends do not

know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffersa vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which isalways the way with her, for she has, without e$ception, the sweetesttemper have ever met with. often tell my other girls they arenothing to 1her1. /ou have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and acharming prospect over the gravel walk. do not know a place in thecountry that is equal to !etherfield. /ou will not think of quitting itin a hurry, hope, though you have but a short lease.

'hatever do is done in a hurry, replied he; and therefore if should resolve to quit !etherfield, should probably be off in fiveminutes. At present, however, consider myself as quite fi$ed here.

#hat is e$actly what should have supposed of you, said )li*abeth.

/ou begin to comprehend me, do you3 cried he, turning towards her.

2h( yes%% understand you perfectly.

wish might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seenthrough am afraid is pitiful.

#hat is as it happens. t does not follow that a deep, intricatecharacter is more or less estimable than such a one as yours.

"i**y, cried her mother, remember where you are, and do not run on inthe wild manner that you are suffered to do at home.

did not know before, continued Bingley immediately, that you were astudier of character. t must be an amusing study.

/es, but intricate characters are the 1most1 amusing. #hey have atleast that advantage.

#he country, said &arcy, can in general supply but a few sub+ects forsuch a study. n a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined andunvarying society.



But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to beobserved in them for ever.

/es, indeed, cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner of mentioninga country neighbourhood. assure you there is quite as much of 1that1going on in the country as in town.

)verybody was surprised, and &arcy, after looking at her for a moment,turned silently away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had gained a completevictory over him, continued her triumph.

cannot see that "ondon has any great advantage over the country, formy part, e$cept the shops and public places. #he country is a vast dealpleasanter, is it not, Mr. Bingley3

'hen am in the country, he replied, never wish to leave it;and when am in town it is pretty much the same. #hey have each theiradvantages, and can be equally happy in either.

Aye%%that is because you have the right disposition. But thatgentleman, looking at &arcy, seemed to think the country was nothingat all.

ndeed, Mamma, you are mistaken, said )li*abeth, blushing for hermother. /ou quite mistook Mr. &arcy. e only meant that there was notsuch a variety of people to be met with in the country as in the town,which you must acknowledge to be true.

-ertainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not meetingwith many people in this neighbourhood, believe there are fewneighbourhoods larger. know we dine with four%and%twenty families.

!othing but concern for )li*abeth could enable Bingley to keep hiscountenance. is sister was less delicate, and directed her eyes towardsMr. &arcy with a very e$pressive smile. )li*abeth, for the sake ofsaying something that might turn her mother6s thoughts, now asked her if-harlotte "ucas had been at "ongbourn since 1her1 coming away.

/es, she called yesterday with her father. 'hat an agreeable man Sir'illiam is, Mr. Bingley, is not he3 So much the man of fashion( Sogenteel and easy( e has always something to say to everybody. 1#hat1is my idea of good breeding; and those persons who fancy themselves veryimportant, and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter.

&id -harlotte dine with you3

!o, she would go home. fancy she was wanted about the mince%pies. 7ormy part, Mr. Bingley, always keep servants that can do their own work;1my1 daughters are brought up very differently. But everybody is to+udge for themselves, and the "ucases are a very good sort of girls, assure you. t is a pity they are not handsome( !ot that think-harlotte so 1very1 plain%%but then she is our particular friend.

She seems a very pleasant young woman.

2h( dear, yes; but you must own she is very plain. "ady "ucas herself



has often said so, and envied me 5ane6s beauty. do not like to boastof my own child, but to be sure, 5ane%%one does not often see anybodybetter looking. t is what everybody says. do not trust my ownpartiality. 'hen she was only fifteen, there was a man at my brother9ardiner6s in town so much in love with her that my sister%in%law wassure he would make her an offer before we came away. But, however, hedid not. =erhaps he thought her too young. owever, he wrote some verseson her, and very pretty they were.

And so ended his affection, said )li*abeth impatiently. #here hasbeen many a one, fancy, overcome in the same way. wonder who firstdiscovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love(

have been used to consider poetry as the 1food1 of love, said &arcy.

2f a fine, stout, healthy love it may. )verything nourishes what isstrong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.

&arcy only smiled; and the general pause which ensued made )li*abeth

tremble lest her mother should be e$posing herself again. She longed tospeak, but could think of nothing to say; and after a short silence Mrs.Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr. Bingley for his kindness to5ane, with an apology for troubling him also with "i**y. Mr. Bingley wasunaffectedly civil in his answer, and forced his younger sister to becivil also, and say what the occasion required. She performed her partindeed without much graciousness, but Mrs. Bennet was satisfied, andsoon afterwards ordered her carriage. 0pon this signal, the youngest ofher daughters put herself forward. #he two girls had been whispering toeach other during the whole visit, and the result of it was, that theyoungest should ta$ Mr. Bingley with having promised on his first cominginto the country to give a ball at !etherfield.

"ydia was a stout, well%grown girl of fifteen, with a fine comple$ionand good%humoured countenance; a favourite with her mother, whoseaffection had brought her into public at an early age. She had highanimal spirits, and a sort of natural self%consequence, which theattention of the officers, to whom her uncle6s good dinners, and her owneasy manners recommended her, had increased into assurance. She was veryequal, therefore, to address Mr. Bingley on the sub+ect of the ball, andabruptly reminded him of his promise; adding, that it would be the mostshameful thing in the world if he did not keep it. is answer to thissudden attack was delightful to their mother6s ear4

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

"ydia declared herself satisfied. 2h( yes%%it would be much better towait till 5ane was well, and by that time most likely -aptain -arterwould be at Meryton again. And when you have given 1your1 ball, sheadded, shall insist on their giving one also. shall tell -olonel7orster it will be quite a shame if he does not.

Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and )li*abeth returnedinstantly to 5ane, leaving her own and her relations6 behaviour to theremarks of the two ladies and Mr. &arcy; the latter of whom, however,



could not be prevailed on to +oin in their censure of 1her1, in spite ofall Miss Bingley6s witticisms on 1fine eyes1.

-hapter DE

#he day passed much as the day before had done. Mrs. urst and MissBingley had spent some hours of the morning with the invalid, whocontinued, though slowly, to mend; and in the evening )li*abeth +oinedtheir party in the drawing%room. #he loo%table, however, did not appear.Mr. &arcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watchingthe progress of his letter and repeatedly calling off his attention bymessages to his sister. Mr. urst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, andMrs. urst was observing their game.

)li*abeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused inattending to what passed between &arcy and his companion. #he perpetualcommendations of the lady, either on his handwriting, or on the evenness

of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcernwith which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and wase$actly in union with her opinion of each.

ow delighted Miss &arcy will be to receive such a letter(

e made no answer.

/ou write uncommonly fast.

/ou are mistaken. write rather slowly.

ow many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of ayear( "etters of business, too( ow odious should think them(

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

=ray tell your sister that long to see her.

have already told her so once, by your desire.

am afraid you do not like your pen. "et me mend it for you. mendpens remarkably well.

#hank you%%but always mend my own.

ow can you contrive to write so even3

e was silent.

#ell your sister am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp;and pray let her know that am quite in raptures with her beautifullittle design for a table, and think it infinitely superior to Miss9rantley6s.

'ill you give me leave to defer your raptures till write again3 Atpresent have not room to do them +ustice.



2h( it is of no consequence. shall see her in 5anuary. But do youalways write such charming long letters to her, Mr. &arcy3

#hey are generally long; but whether always charming it is not for meto determine.

t is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter withease, cannot write ill.

#hat will not do for a compliment to &arcy, -aroline, cried herbrother, because he does 1not1 write with ease. e studies too much forwords of four syllables. &o not you, &arcy3

My style of writing is very different from yours.

2h( cried Miss Bingley, -harles writes in the most careless wayimaginable. e leaves out half his words, and blots the rest.

My ideas flow so rapidly that have not time to e$press them%%by which

means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents.

/our humility, Mr. Bingley, said )li*abeth, must disarm reproof.

!othing is more deceitful, said &arcy, than the appearance ofhumility. t is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes anindirect boast.

And which of the two do you call 1my1 little recent piece of modesty3

#he indirect boast; for you are really proud of your defects inwriting, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity ofthought and carelessness of e$ecution, which, if not estimable, youthink at least highly interesting. #he power of doing anything withquickness is always pri*ed much by the possessor, and often without anyattention to the imperfection of the performance. 'hen you told Mrs.Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved upon quitting !etherfieldyou should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort ofpanegyric, of compliment to yourself%%and yet what is there so verylaudable in a precipitance which must leave very necessary businessundone, and can be of no real advantage to yourself or anyone else3

!ay, cried Bingley, this is too much, to remember at night all thefoolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour, believe what said of myself to be true, and believe it at thismoment. At least, therefore, did not assume the character of needlessprecipitance merely to show off before the ladies.

dare say you believed it; but am by no means convinced thatyou would be gone with such celerity. /our conduct would be quite asdependent on chance as that of any man know; and if, as you weremounting your horse, a friend were to say, 6Bingley, you had betterstay till ne$t week,6 you would probably do it, you would probably notgo%%and at another word, might stay a month.

/ou have only proved by this, cried )li*abeth, that Mr. Bingley didnot do +ustice to his own disposition. /ou have shown him off now much



more than he did himself.

am e$ceedingly gratified, said Bingley, by your converting what myfriend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But amafraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no meansintend; for he would certainly think better of me, if under such acircumstance were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as could.

'ould Mr. &arcy then consider the rashness of your original intentionsas atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it3

0pon my word, cannot e$actly e$plain the matter; &arcy must speak forhimself.

/ou e$pect me to account for opinions which you choose to call mine,but which have never acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, tostand according to your representation, you must remember, Miss Bennet,that the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, andthe delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering

one argument in favour of its propriety.

#o yield readily%%easily%%to the 1persuasion1 of a friend is no meritwith you.

#o yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding ofeither.

/ou appear to me, Mr. &arcy, to allow nothing for the influence offriendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often makeone readily yield to a request, without waiting for arguments to reasonone into it. am not particularly speaking of such a case as you havesupposed about Mr. Bingley. 'e may as well wait, perhaps, till thecircumstance occurs before we discuss the discretion of his behaviourthereupon. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and friend,where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of novery great moment, should you think ill of that person for complyingwith the desire, without waiting to be argued into it3

'ill it not be advisable, before we proceed on this sub+ect, toarrange with rather more precision the degree of importance which is toappertain to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsistingbetween the parties3

By all means, cried Bingley; let us hear all the particulars, notforgetting their comparative height and si*e; for that will have moreweight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. assure

you, that if &arcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison withmyself, should not pay him half so much deference. declare do notknow a more awful ob+ect than &arcy, on particular occasions, and inparticular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening,when he has nothing to do.

Mr. &arcy smiled; but )li*abeth thought she could perceive that he wasrather offended, and therefore checked her laugh. Miss Bingley warmlyresented the indignity he had received, in an e$postulation with herbrother for talking such nonsense.



see your design, Bingley, said his friend. /ou dislike an argument,and want to silence this.

=erhaps do. Arguments are too much like disputes. f you and MissBennet will defer yours till am out of the room, shall be verythankful; and then you may say whatever you like of me.

'hat you ask, said )li*abeth, is no sacrifice on my side; and Mr.&arcy had much better finish his letter.

Mr. &arcy took her advice, and did finish his letter.

'hen that business was over, he applied to Miss Bingley and )li*abethfor an indulgence of some music. Miss Bingley moved with some alacrityto the pianoforte; and, after a polite request that )li*abeth would leadthe way which the other as politely and more earnestly negatived, sheseated herself.

Mrs. urst sang with her sister, and while they were thus employed,

)li*abeth could not help observing, as she turned over some music%booksthat lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr. &arcy6s eyes were fi$edon her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an ob+ect ofadmiration to so great a man; and yet that he should look at herbecause he disliked her, was still more strange. She could only imagine,however, at last that she drew his notice because there was somethingmore wrong and reprehensible, according to his ideas of right, than inany other person present. #he supposition did not pain her. She likedhim too little to care for his approbation.

After playing some talian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm bya lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. &arcy, drawing near)li*abeth, said to her4

&o not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to sei*e such anopportunity of dancing a reel3

She smiled, but made no answer. e repeated the question, with somesurprise at her silence.

2h( said she, heard you before, but could not immediatelydetermine what to say in reply. /ou wanted me, know, to say 6/es,6that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but alwaysdelight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person oftheir premeditated contempt. have, therefore, made up my mind to tellyou, that do not want to dance a reel at all%%and now despise me ifyou dare.

ndeed do not dare.

)li*abeth, having rather e$pected to affront him, was ama*ed at hisgallantry; but there was a mi$ture of sweetness and archness in hermanner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody; and &arcyhad never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. e reallybelieved, that were it not for the inferiority of her connections, heshould be in some danger.



Miss Bingley saw, or suspected enough to be +ealous; and her greatan$iety for the recovery of her dear friend 5ane received someassistance from her desire of getting rid of )li*abeth.

She often tried to provoke &arcy into disliking her guest, by talking oftheir supposed marriage, and planning his happiness in such an alliance.

hope, said she, as they were walking together in the shrubberythe ne$t day, you will give your mother%in%law a few hints, when thisdesirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue;and if you can compass it, do cure the younger girls of running afterofficers. And, if may mention so delicate a sub+ect, endeavour tocheck that little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence,which your lady possesses.

ave you anything else to propose for my domestic felicity3

2h( yes. &o let the portraits of your uncle and aunt =hillips be placedin the gallery at =emberley. =ut them ne$t to your great%uncle the+udge. #hey are in the same profession, you know, only in different

lines. As for your )li*abeth6s picture, you must not have it taken, forwhat painter could do +ustice to those beautiful eyes3

t would not be easy, indeed, to catch their e$pression, but theircolour and shape, and the eyelashes, so remarkably fine, might becopied.

At that moment they were met from another walk by Mrs. urst and)li*abeth herself.

did not know that you intended to walk, said Miss Bingley, in someconfusion, lest they had been overheard.

/ou used us abominably ill, answered Mrs. urst, running away withouttelling us that you were coming out.

#hen taking the disengaged arm of Mr. &arcy, she left )li*abeth to walkby herself. #he path +ust admitted three. Mr. &arcy felt their rudeness,and immediately said4

#his walk is not wide enough for our party. 'e had better go into theavenue.

But )li*abeth, who had not the least inclination to remain with them,laughingly answered4

!o, no; stay where you are. /ou are charmingly grouped, and appear

to uncommon advantage. #he picturesque would be spoilt by admitting afourth. 9ood%bye.

She then ran gaily off, re+oicing as she rambled about, in the hope ofbeing at home again in a day or two. 5ane was already so much recoveredas to intend leaving her room for a couple of hours that evening.

-hapter DD



'hen the ladies removed after dinner, )li*abeth ran up to hersister, and seeing her well guarded from cold, attended her into thedrawing%room, where she was welcomed by her two friends with manyprofessions of pleasure; and )li*abeth had never seen them so agreeableas they were during the hour which passed before the gentlemen appeared.#heir powers of conversation were considerable. #hey could describe anentertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laughat their acquaintance with spirit.

But when the gentlemen entered, 5ane was no longer the first ob+ect;Miss Bingley6s eyes were instantly turned toward &arcy, and she hadsomething to say to him before he had advanced many steps. e addressedhimself to Miss Bennet, with a polite congratulation; Mr. urst alsomade her a slight bow, and said he was very glad; but diffusenessand warmth remained for Bingley6s salutation. e was full of +oy andattention. #he first half%hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest sheshould suffer from the change of room; and she removed at his desireto the other side of the fireplace, that she might be further from

the door. e then sat down by her, and talked scarcely to anyoneelse. )li*abeth, at work in the opposite corner, saw it all with greatdelight.

'hen tea was over, Mr. urst reminded his sister%in%law of thecard%table%%but in vain. She had obtained private intelligence that Mr.&arcy did not wish for cards; and Mr. urst soon found even his openpetition re+ected. She assured him that no one intended to play, andthe silence of the whole party on the sub+ect seemed to +ustify her. Mr.urst had therefore nothing to do, but to stretch himself on one of thesofas and go to sleep. &arcy took up a book; Miss Bingley did the same;and Mrs. urst, principally occupied in playing with her braceletsand rings, +oined now and then in her brother6s conversation with MissBennet.

Miss Bingley6s attention was quite as much engaged in watching Mr.&arcy6s progress through 1his1 book, as in reading her own; and shewas perpetually either making some inquiry, or looking at his page. Shecould not win him, however, to any conversation; he merely answered herquestion, and read on. At length, quite e$hausted by the attempt to beamused with her own book, which she had only chosen because it was thesecond volume of his, she gave a great yawn and said, ow pleasantit is to spend an evening in this way( declare after all there is noen+oyment like reading( ow much sooner one tires of anything than of abook( 'hen have a house of my own, shall be miserable if have notan e$cellent library.

!o one made any reply. She then yawned again, threw aside her book, andcast her eyes round the room in quest for some amusement; when hearingher brother mentioning a ball to Miss Bennet, she turned suddenlytowards him and said4

By the bye, -harles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at!etherfield3 would advise you, before you determine on it, to consultthe wishes of the present party; am much mistaken if there arenot some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than apleasure.



f you mean &arcy, cried her brother, he may go to bed, if hechooses, before it begins%%but as for the ball, it is quite a settledthing; and as soon as !icholls has made white soup enough, shall sendround my cards.

should like balls infinitely better, she replied, if they werecarried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferablytedious in the usual process of such a meeting. t would surely be muchmore rational if conversation instead of dancing were made the order ofthe day.

Much more rational, my dear -aroline, dare say, but it would not benear so much like a ball.

Miss Bingley made no answer, and soon afterwards she got up and walkedabout the room. er figure was elegant, and she walked well; but&arcy, at whom it was all aimed, was still infle$ibly studious. nthe desperation of her feelings, she resolved on one effort more, and,turning to )li*abeth, said4

Miss )li*a Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my e$ample, and take aturn about the room. assure you it is very refreshing after sitting solong in one attitude.

)li*abeth was surprised, but agreed to it immediately. Miss Bingleysucceeded no less in the real ob+ect of her civility; Mr. &arcy lookedup. e was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as)li*abeth herself could be, and unconsciously closed his book. e wasdirectly invited to +oin their party, but he declined it, observing thathe could imagine but two motives for their choosing to walk up and downthe room together, with either of which motives his +oining them wouldinterfere. 'hat could he mean3 She was dying to know what could be hismeaning3%%and asked )li*abeth whether she could at all understand him3

!ot at all, was her answer; but depend upon it, he means to be severeon us, and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothingabout it.

Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disappointing Mr. &arcy inanything, and persevered therefore in requiring an e$planation of histwo motives.

have not the smallest ob+ection to e$plaining them, said he, as soonas she allowed him to speak. /ou either choose this method of passingthe evening because you are in each other6s confidence, and have secretaffairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures

appear to the greatest advantage in walking; if the first, would becompletely in your way, and if the second, can admire you much betteras sit by the fire.

2h( shocking( cried Miss Bingley. never heard anything soabominable. ow shall we punish him for such a speech3

!othing so easy, if you have but the inclination, said )li*abeth. 'ecan all plague and punish one another. #ease him%%laugh at him. ntimateas you are, you must know how it is to be done.



But upon my honour, do 1not1. do assure you that my intimacy hasnot yet taught me 1that1. #ease calmness of manner and presence ofmind( !o, no; feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we willnot e$pose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without asub+ect. Mr. &arcy may hug himself.

Mr. &arcy is not to be laughed at( cried )li*abeth. #hat is anuncommon advantage, and uncommon hope it will continue, for it wouldbe a great loss to 1me1 to have many such acquaintances. dearly love alaugh.

Miss Bingley, said he, has given me more credit than can be.#he wisest and the best of men%%nay, the wisest and best of theiractions%%may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first ob+ect inlife is a +oke.

-ertainly, replied )li*abeth%%there are such people, but hope am not one of 1them1. hope never ridicule what is wise and good.7ollies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, 1do1 divert me, own,

and laugh at them whenever can. But these, suppose, are preciselywhat you are without.

=erhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the studyof my life to avoid those weaknesses which often e$pose a strongunderstanding to ridicule.

Such as vanity and pride.

/es, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride%%where there is a realsuperiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation.

)li*abeth turned away to hide a smile.

/our e$amination of Mr. &arcy is over, presume, said Miss Bingley;and pray what is the result3

am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. &arcy has no defect. e owns ithimself without disguise.

!o, said &arcy, have made no such pretension. have faults enough,but they are not, hope, of understanding. My temper dare not vouchfor. t is, believe, too little yielding%%certainly too little for theconvenience of the world. cannot forget the follies and vices of othersso soon as ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelingsare not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temperwould perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost

forever.

1#hat1 is a failing indeed( cried )li*abeth. mplacable resentment1is1 a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. really cannot 1laugh1 at it. /ou are safe from me.

#here is, believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particularevil%%a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.

And 1your1 defect is to hate everybody.



And yours, he replied with a smile, is willfully to misunderstandthem.

&o let us have a little music, cried Miss Bingley, tired of aconversation in which she had no share. "ouisa, you will not mind mywaking Mr. urst3

er sister had not the smallest ob+ection, and the pianoforte wasopened; and &arcy, after a few moments6 recollection, was not sorry forit. e began to feel the danger of paying )li*abeth too much attention.

-hapter DF

n consequence of an agreement between the sisters, )li*abeth wrote thene$t morning to their mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent forthem in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet, who had calculated on

her daughters remaining at !etherfield till the following #uesday, whichwould e$actly finish 5ane6s week, could not bring herself to receivethem with pleasure before. er answer, therefore, was not propitious, atleast not to )li*abeth6s wishes, for she was impatient to get home. Mrs.Bennet sent them word that they could not possibly have the carriagebefore #uesday; and in her postscript it was added, that if Mr. Bingleyand his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare themvery well. Against staying longer, however, )li*abeth was positivelyresolved%%nor did she much e$pect it would be asked; and fearful, on thecontrary, as being considered as intruding themselves needlessly long,she urged 5ane to borrow Mr. Bingley6s carriage immediately, and atlength it was settled that their original design of leaving !etherfieldthat morning should be mentioned, and the request made.

#he communication e$cited many professions of concern; and enough wassaid of wishing them to stay at least till the following day to workon 5ane; and till the morrow their going was deferred. Miss Bingley wasthen sorry that she had proposed the delay, for her +ealousy and dislikeof one sister much e$ceeded her affection for the other.

#he master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were to go sosoon, and repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not besafe for her%%that she was not enough recovered; but 5ane was firm whereshe felt herself to be right.

#o Mr. &arcy it was welcome intelligence%%)li*abeth had been at!etherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked%%and Miss

Bingley was uncivil to 1her1, and more teasing than usual to himself.e wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admirationshould 1now1 escape him, nothing that could elevate her with the hopeof influencing his felicity; sensible that if such an idea had beensuggested, his behaviour during the last day must have material weightin confirming or crushing it. Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoketen words to her through the whole of Saturday, and though they wereat one time left by themselves for half%an%hour, he adhered mostconscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her.



2n Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to almostall, took place. Miss Bingley6s civility to )li*abeth increased at lastvery rapidly, as well as her affection for 5ane; and when they parted,after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give herto see her either at "ongbourn or !etherfield, and embracing her mosttenderly, she even shook hands with the former. )li*abeth took leave ofthe whole party in the liveliest of spirits.

#hey were not welcomed home very cordially by their mother. Mrs. Bennetwondered at their coming, and thought them very wrong to give so muchtrouble, and was sure 5ane would have caught cold again. But theirfather, though very laconic in his e$pressions of pleasure, was reallyglad to see them; he had felt their importance in the family circle. #heevening conversation, when they were all assembled, had lost much ofits animation, and almost all its sense by the absence of 5ane and)li*abeth.

#hey found Mary, as usual, deep in the study of thorough%bass and humannature; and had some e$tracts to admire, and some new observations ofthreadbare morality to listen to. -atherine and "ydia had information

for them of a different sort. Much had been done and much had been saidin the regiment since the preceding 'ednesday; several of the officershad dined lately with their uncle, a private had been flogged, and ithad actually been hinted that -olonel 7orster was going to be married.

-hapter DG

hope, my dear, said Mr. Bennet to his wife, as they were atbreakfast the ne$t morning, that you have ordered a good dinner to%day,because have reason to e$pect an addition to our family party.

'ho do you mean, my dear3 know of nobody that is coming, am sure,unless -harlotte "ucas should happen to call in%%and hope 1my1 dinnersare good enough for her. do not believe she often sees such at home.

#he person of whom speak is a gentleman, and a stranger.

Mrs. Bennet6s eyes sparkled. A gentleman and a stranger( t is Mr.Bingley, am sure( 'ell, am sure shall be e$tremely glad to see Mr.Bingley. But%%good "ord( how unlucky( #here is not a bit of fish to begot to%day. "ydia, my love, ring the bell%% must speak to ill thismoment.

t is 1not1 Mr. Bingley, said her husband; it is a person whom

never saw in the whole course of my life.

#his roused a general astonishment; and he had the pleasure of beingeagerly questioned by his wife and his five daughters at once.

After amusing himself some time with their curiosity, he thus e$plained4

About a month ago received this letter; and about a fortnight ago answered it, for thought it a case of some delicacy, and requiringearly attention. t is from my cousin, Mr. -ollins, who, when am dead,



may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases.

2h( my dear, cried his wife, cannot bear to hear that mentioned.=ray do not talk of that odious man. do think it is the hardest thingin the world, that your estate should be entailed away from your ownchildren; and am sure, if had been you, should have tried long agoto do something or other about it.

5ane and )li*abeth tried to e$plain to her the nature of an entail. #heyhad often attempted to do it before, but it was a sub+ect on whichMrs. Bennet was beyond the reach of reason, and she continued to railbitterly against the cruelty of settling an estate away from a family offive daughters, in favour of a man whom nobody cared anything about.

t certainly is a most iniquitous affair, said Mr. Bennet, andnothing can clear Mr. -ollins from the guilt of inheriting "ongbourn.But if you will listen to his letter, you may perhaps be a littlesoftened by his manner of e$pressing himself.

!o, that am sure shall not; and think it is very impertinent of

him to write to you at all, and very hypocritical. hate such falsefriends. 'hy could he not keep on quarreling with you, as his father didbefore him3

'hy, indeed; he does seem to have had some filial scruples on thathead, as you will hear.

unsford, near 'esterham, 8ent, Dth 2ctober.

&ear Sir,%%

#he disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honouredfather always gave me much uneasiness, and since have had themisfortune to lose him, have frequently wished to heal the breach; butfor some time was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it mightseem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with anyonewith whom it had always pleased him to be at variance.%%6#here, Mrs.Bennet.6%%My mind, however, is now made up on the sub+ect, for havingreceived ordination at )aster, have been so fortunate as to bedistinguished by the patronage of the <ight onourable "ady -atherine deBourgh, widow of Sir "ewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence haspreferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall bemy earnest endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards herladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies whichare instituted by the -hurch of )ngland. As a clergyman, moreover, feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace inall families within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds

flatter myself that my present overtures are highly commendable, andthat the circumstance of my being ne$t in the entail of "ongbourn estatewill be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to re+ect theoffered olive%branch. cannot be otherwise than concerned at being themeans of in+uring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologise forit, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possibleamends%%but of this hereafter. f you should have no ob+ection toreceive me into your house, propose myself the satisfaction of waitingon you and your family, Monday, !ovember Dth, by four o6clock, andshall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se6ennight



following, which can do without any inconvenience, as "ady -atherineis far from ob+ecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, providedthat some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day.%%remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady anddaughters, your well%wisher and friend,

'""AM -2""!S

At four o6clock, therefore, we may e$pect this peace%making gentleman,said Mr. Bennet, as he folded up the letter. e seems to be a mostconscientious and polite young man, upon my word, and doubt not willprove a valuable acquaintance, especially if "ady -atherine should be soindulgent as to let him come to us again.

#here is some sense in what he says about the girls, however, and ifhe is disposed to make them any amends, shall not be the person todiscourage him.

#hough it is difficult, said 5ane, to guess in what way he can meanto make us the atonement he thinks our due, the wish is certainly to his

credit.

)li*abeth was chiefly struck by his e$traordinary deference for "ady-atherine, and his kind intention of christening, marrying, and buryinghis parishioners whenever it were required.

e must be an oddity, think, said she. cannot make himout.%%#here is something very pompous in his style.%%And what can hemean by apologising for being ne$t in the entail3%%'e cannot suppose hewould help it if he could.%%-ould he be a sensible man, sir3

!o, my dear, think not. have great hopes of finding him quite thereverse. #here is a mi$ture of servility and self%importance in hisletter, which promises well. am impatient to see him.

n point of composition, said Mary, the letter does not seemdefective. #he idea of the olive%branch perhaps is not wholly new, yet think it is well e$pressed.

#o -atherine and "ydia, neither the letter nor its writer were in anydegree interesting. t was ne$t to impossible that their cousin shouldcome in a scarlet coat, and it was now some weeks since they hadreceived pleasure from the society of a man in any other colour. As fortheir mother, Mr. -ollins6s letter had done away much of her ill%will,and she was preparing to see him with a degree of composure whichastonished her husband and daughters.

Mr. -ollins was punctual to his time, and was received with greatpoliteness by the whole family. Mr. Bennet indeed said little; but theladies were ready enough to talk, and Mr. -ollins seemed neither inneed of encouragement, nor inclined to be silent himself. e was atall, heavy%looking young man of five%and%twenty. is air was grave andstately, and his manners were very formal. e had not been long seatedbefore he complimented Mrs. Bennet on having so fine a family ofdaughters; said he had heard much of their beauty, but that in thisinstance fame had fallen short of the truth; and added, that he didnot doubt her seeing them all in due time disposed of in marriage. #his



gallantry was not much to the taste of some of his hearers; but Mrs.Bennet, who quarreled with no compliments, answered most readily.

/ou are very kind, am sure; and wish with all my heart it mayprove so, for else they will be destitute enough. #hings are settled sooddly.

/ou allude, perhaps, to the entail of this estate.

Ah( sir, do indeed. t is a grievous affair to my poor girls, youmust confess. !ot that mean to find fault with 1you1, for such things know are all chance in this world. #here is no knowing how estateswill go when once they come to be entailed.

am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to my fair cousins, andcould say much on the sub+ect, but that am cautious of appearingforward and precipitate. But can assure the young ladies that comeprepared to admire them. At present will not say more; but, perhaps,when we are better acquainted%%

e was interrupted by a summons to dinner; and the girls smiled on eachother. #hey were not the only ob+ects of Mr. -ollins6s admiration. #hehall, the dining%room, and all its furniture, were e$amined and praised;and his commendation of everything would have touched Mrs. Bennet6sheart, but for the mortifying supposition of his viewing it all as hisown future property. #he dinner too in its turn was highly admired; andhe begged to know to which of his fair cousins the e$cellency of itscooking was owing. But he was set right there by Mrs. Bennet, whoassured him with some asperity that they were very well able to keep agood cook, and that her daughters had nothing to do in the kitchen. ebegged pardon for having displeased her. n a softened tone she declaredherself not at all offended; but he continued to apologise for about aquarter of an hour.

-hapter D:

&uring dinner, Mr. Bennet scarcely spoke at all; but when the servantswere withdrawn, he thought it time to have some conversation with hisguest, and therefore started a sub+ect in which he e$pected him toshine, by observing that he seemed very fortunate in his patroness. "ady-atherine de Bourgh6s attention to his wishes, and consideration forhis comfort, appeared very remarkable. Mr. Bennet could not have chosenbetter. Mr. -ollins was eloquent in her praise. #he sub+ect elevated himto more than usual solemnity of manner, and with a most important aspect

he protested that he had never in his life witnessed such behaviour ina person of rank%%such affability and condescension, as he had himselfe$perienced from "ady -atherine. She had been graciously pleased toapprove of both of the discourses which he had already had the honour ofpreaching before her. She had also asked him twice to dine at <osings,and had sent for him only the Saturday before, to make up her pool ofquadrille in the evening. "ady -atherine was reckoned proud by manypeople he knew, but 1he1 had never seen anything but affability in her.She had always spoken to him as she would to any other gentleman; shemade not the smallest ob+ection to his +oining in the society of the



neighbourhood nor to his leaving the parish occasionally for a week ortwo, to visit his relations. She had even condescended to advise him tomarry as soon as he could, provided he chose with discretion; and hadonce paid him a visit in his humble parsonage, where she had perfectlyapproved all the alterations he had been making, and had even vouchsafedto suggest some herself%%some shelves in the closet up stairs.

#hat is all very proper and civil, am sure, said Mrs. Bennet, and dare say she is a very agreeable woman. t is a pity that great ladiesin general are not more like her. &oes she live near you, sir3

#he garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lanefrom <osings =ark, her ladyship6s residence.

think you said she was a widow, sir3 as she any family3

She has only one daughter, the heiress of <osings, and of verye$tensive property.

Ah( said Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head, then she is better off than

many girls. And what sort of young lady is she3 s she handsome3

She is a most charming young lady indeed. "ady -atherine herself saysthat, in point of true beauty, Miss de Bourgh is far superior to thehandsomest of her se$, because there is that in her features which marksthe young lady of distinguished birth. She is unfortunately of a sicklyconstitution, which has prevented her from making that progress in manyaccomplishments which she could not have otherwise failed of, as aminformed by the lady who superintended her education, and who stillresides with them. But she is perfectly amiable, and often condescendsto drive by my humble abode in her little phaeton and ponies.

as she been presented3 do not remember her name among the ladies atcourt.

er indifferent state of health unhappily prevents her being in town;and by that means, as told "ady -atherine one day, has deprived theBritish court of its brightest ornament. er ladyship seemed pleasedwith the idea; and you may imagine that am happy on every occasion tooffer those little delicate compliments which are always acceptableto ladies. have more than once observed to "ady -atherine, thather charming daughter seemed born to be a duchess, and that the mostelevated rank, instead of giving her consequence, would be adorned byher. #hese are the kind of little things which please her ladyship, andit is a sort of attention which conceive myself peculiarly bound topay.

/ou +udge very properly, said Mr. Bennet, and it is happy for youthat you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May askwhether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of themoment, or are the result of previous study3

#hey arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegantcompliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, always wish togive them as unstudied an air as possible.



Mr. Bennet6s e$pectations were fully answered. is cousin was as absurdas he had hoped, and he listened to him with the keenest en+oyment,maintaining at the same time the most resolute composure of countenance,and, e$cept in an occasional glance at )li*abeth, requiring no partnerin his pleasure.

By tea%time, however, the dose had been enough, and Mr. Bennet was gladto take his guest into the drawing%room again, and, when tea was over,glad to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Mr. -ollins readilyassented, and a book was produced; but, on beholding it Hfor everythingannounced it to be from a circulating libraryI, he started back, andbegging pardon, protested that he never read novels. 8itty stared athim, and "ydia e$claimed. 2ther books were produced, and after somedeliberation he chose 7ordyce6s Sermons. "ydia gaped as he opened thevolume, and before he had, with very monotonous solemnity, read threepages, she interrupted him with4

&o you know, mamma, that my uncle =hillips talks of turning away<ichard; and if he does, -olonel 7orster will hire him. My aunt told meso herself on Saturday. shall walk to Meryton to%morrow to hear more

about it, and to ask when Mr. &enny comes back from town.

"ydia was bid by her two eldest sisters to hold her tongue; but Mr.-ollins, much offended, laid aside his book, and said4

have often observed how little young ladies are interested by booksof a serious stamp, though written solely for their benefit. t ama*esme, confess; for, certainly, there can be nothing so advantageous tothem as instruction. But will no longer importune my young cousin.

#hen turning to Mr. Bennet, he offered himself as his antagonist atbackgammon. Mr. Bennet accepted the challenge, observing that he actedvery wisely in leaving the girls to their own trifling amusements.Mrs. Bennet and her daughters apologised most civilly for "ydia6sinterruption, and promised that it should not occur again, if he wouldresume his book; but Mr. -ollins, after assuring them that he bore hisyoung cousin no ill%will, and should never resent her behaviour as anyaffront, seated himself at another table with Mr. Bennet, and preparedfor backgammon.

-hapter D

Mr. -ollins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature hadbeen but little assisted by education or society; the greatest part

of his life having been spent under the guidance of an illiterate andmiserly father; and though he belonged to one of the universities, hehad merely kept the necessary terms, without forming at it any usefulacquaintance. #he sub+ection in which his father had brought him up hadgiven him originally great humility of manner; but it was now agood deal counteracted by the self%conceit of a weak head, living inretirement, and the consequential feelings of early and une$pectedprosperity. A fortunate chance had recommended him to "ady -atherine deBourgh when the living of unsford was vacant; and the respect whichhe 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 aclergyman, and his right as a rector, made him altogether a mi$ture ofpride and obsequiousness, self%importance and humility.

aving now a good house and a very sufficient income, he intended tomarry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the "ongbourn family he hada wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the daughters, if he foundthem as handsome and amiable as they were represented by common report.#his was his plan of amends%%of atonement%%for inheriting their father6sestate; and he thought it an e$cellent one, full of eligibility andsuitableness, and e$cessively generous and disinterested on his ownpart.

is plan did not vary on seeing them. Miss Bennet6s lovely faceconfirmed his views, and established all his strictest notions of whatwas due to seniority; and for the first evening 1she1 was his settledchoice. #he ne$t morning, however, made an alteration; for in aquarter of an hour6s tete%a%tete with Mrs. Bennet before breakfast, aconversation beginning with his parsonage%house, and leading naturallyto the avowal of his hopes, that a mistress might be found for it at

"ongbourn, produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and generalencouragement, a caution against the very 5ane he had fi$ed on. As toher 1younger1 daughters, she could not take upon her to say%%she couldnot positively answer%%but she did not 1know1 of any prepossession; her1eldest1 daughter, she must +ust mention%%she felt it incumbent on herto hint, was likely to be very soon engaged.

Mr. -ollins had only to change from 5ane to )li*abeth%%and it was soondone%%done while Mrs. Bennet was stirring the fire. )li*abeth, equallyne$t to 5ane in birth and beauty, succeeded her of course.

Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted that she might soon havetwo daughters married; and the man whom she could not bear to speak ofthe day before was now high in her good graces.

"ydia6s intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten; every sistere$cept Mary agreed to go with her; and Mr. -ollins was to attend them,at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most an$ious to get rid of him,and have his library to himself; for thither Mr. -ollins had followedhim after breakfast; and there he would continue, nominally engaged withone of the largest folios in the collection, but really talking to Mr.Bennet, with little cessation, of his house and garden at unsford. Suchdoings discomposed Mr. Bennet e$ceedingly. n his library he had beenalways sure of leisure and tranquillity; and though prepared, as he told)li*abeth, to meet with folly and conceit in every other room of thehouse, he was used to be free from them there; his civility, therefore,was most prompt in inviting Mr. -ollins to +oin his daughters in their

walk; and Mr. -ollins, being in fact much better fitted for a walkerthan a reader, was e$tremely pleased to close his large book, and go.

n pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of hiscousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton. #he attention ofthe younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him. #heir eyes wereimmediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers, andnothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin ina shop window, could recall them.



But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whomthey had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walkingwith another officer on the other side of the way. #he officer wasthe very Mr. &enny concerning whose return from "ondon "ydia cameto inquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with thestranger6s air, all wondered who he could be; and 8itty and "ydia,determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, underpretense of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunatelyhad +ust gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back, hadreached the same spot. Mr. &enny addressed them directly, and entreatedpermission to introduce his friend, Mr. 'ickham, who had returned withhim the day before from town, and he was happy to say had accepted acommission in their corps. #his was e$actly as it should be; for theyoung man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming.is appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part ofbeauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address.#he introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readinessof conversation%%a readiness at the same time perfectly correct andunassuming; and the whole party were still standing and talking togethervery agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and &arcy

and Bingley were seen riding down the street. 2n distinguishing theladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, andbegan the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, andMiss Bennet the principal ob+ect. e was then, he said, on his way to"ongbourn on purpose to inquire after her. Mr. &arcy corroboratedit with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fi$ his eyeson )li*abeth, when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of thestranger, and )li*abeth happening to see the countenance of both as theylooked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting.Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr. 'ickham,after a few moments, touched his hat%%a salutation which Mr. &arcy +ustdeigned to return. 'hat could be the meaning of it3 t was impossible toimagine; it was impossible not to long to know.

n another minute, Mr. Bingley, but without seeming to have noticed whatpassed, took leave and rode on with his friend.

Mr. &enny and Mr. 'ickham walked with the young ladies to the door ofMr. =hillip6s house, and then made their bows, in spite of Miss "ydia6spressing entreaties that they should come in, and even in spite ofMrs. =hillips6s throwing up the parlour window and loudly seconding theinvitation.

Mrs. =hillips was always glad to see her nieces; and the two eldest,from their recent absence, were particularly welcome, and she waseagerly e$pressing her surprise at their sudden return home, which, astheir own carriage had not fetched them, she should have known nothing

about, if she had not happened to see Mr. 5ones6s shop%boy in thestreet, who had told her that they were not to send any more draughts to!etherfield because the Miss Bennets were come away, when her civilitywas claimed towards Mr. -ollins by 5ane6s introduction of him. Shereceived him with her very best politeness, which he returned withas much more, apologising for his intrusion, without any previousacquaintance with her, which he could not help flattering himself,however, might be +ustified by his relationship to the young ladies whointroduced him to her notice. Mrs. =hillips was quite awed by such ane$cess of good breeding; but her contemplation of one stranger was soon



put to an end by e$clamations and inquiries about the other; of whom,however, she could only tell her nieces what they already knew, thatMr. &enny had brought him from "ondon, and that he was to have alieutenant6s commission in the %%%%shire. She had been watching him thelast hour, she said, as he walked up and down the street, and had Mr.'ickham appeared, 8itty and "ydia would certainly have continued theoccupation, but unluckily no one passed windows now e$cept a few of theofficers, who, in comparison with the stranger, were become stupid,disagreeable fellows. Some of them were to dine with the =hillipsesthe ne$t day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr.'ickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from "ongbournwould come in the evening. #his was agreed to, and Mrs. =hillipsprotested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lotterytickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards. #he prospect of suchdelights was very cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits. Mr.-ollins repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was assuredwith unwearying civility that they were perfectly needless.

As they walked home, )li*abeth related to 5ane what she had seen passbetween the two gentlemen; but though 5ane would have defended either

or both, had they appeared to be in the wrong, she could no more e$plainsuch behaviour than her sister.

Mr. -ollins on his return highly gratified Mrs. Bennet by admiringMrs. =hillips6s manners and politeness. e protested that, e$cept "ady-atherine and her daughter, he had never seen a more elegant woman;for she had not only received him with the utmost civility, but evenpointedly included him in her invitation for the ne$t evening, althoughutterly unknown to her before. Something, he supposed, might beattributed to his connection with them, but yet he had never met with somuch attention in the whole course of his life.

-hapter D?

As no ob+ection was made to the young people6s engagement with theiraunt, and all Mr. -ollins6s scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet fora single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted, the coachconveyed him and his five cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton; andthe girls had the pleasure of hearing, as they entered the drawing%room,that Mr. 'ickham had accepted their uncle6s invitation, and was then inthe house.

'hen this information was given, and they had all taken their seats, Mr.-ollins was at leisure to look around him and admire, and he was so much

struck with the si*e and furniture of the apartment, that he declared hemight almost have supposed himself in the small summer breakfastparlour at <osings; a comparison that did not at first convey muchgratification; but when Mrs. =hillips understood from him what<osings was, and who was its proprietor%%when she had listened to thedescription of only one of "ady -atherine6s drawing%rooms, and foundthat the chimney%piece alone had cost eight hundred pounds, she felt allthe force of the compliment, and would hardly have resented a comparisonwith the housekeeper6s room.



n describing to her all the grandeur of "ady -atherine and her mansion,with occasional digressions in praise of his own humble abode, andthe improvements it was receiving, he was happily employed until thegentlemen +oined them; and he found in Mrs. =hillips a very attentivelistener, whose opinion of his consequence increased with what sheheard, and who was resolving to retail it all among her neighbours assoon as she could. #o the girls, who could not listen to their cousin,and who had nothing to do but to wish for an instrument, and e$aminetheir own indifferent imitations of china on the mantelpiece, theinterval of waiting appeared very long. t was over at last, however.#he gentlemen did approach, and when Mr. 'ickham walked into the room,)li*abeth felt that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thinkingof him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration.#he officers of the %%%%shire were in general a very creditable,gentlemanlike set, and the best of them were of the present party; butMr. 'ickham was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, andwalk, as 1they1 were superior to the broad%faced, stuffy uncle =hillips,breathing port wine, who followed them into the room.

Mr. 'ickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was

turned, and )li*abeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seatedhimself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell intoconversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, made her feelthat the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be renderedinteresting by the skill of the speaker.

'ith such rivals for the notice of the fair as Mr. 'ickham and theofficers, Mr. -ollins seemed to sink into insignificance; to the youngladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals a kindlistener in Mrs. =hillips, and was by her watchfulness, most abundantlysupplied with coffee and muffin. 'hen the card%tables were placed, hehad the opportunity of obliging her in turn, by sitting down to whist.

know little of the game at present, said he, but shall be gladto improve myself, for in my situation in life%% Mrs. =hillips was veryglad for his compliance, but could not wait for his reason.

Mr. 'ickham did not play at whist, and with ready delight was hereceived at the other table between )li*abeth and "ydia. At first thereseemed danger of "ydia6s engrossing him entirely, for she was a mostdetermined talker; but being likewise e$tremely fond of lottery tickets,she soon grew too much interested in the game, too eager in making betsand e$claiming after pri*es to have attention for anyone in particular.Allowing for the common demands of the game, Mr. 'ickham was thereforeat leisure to talk to )li*abeth, and she was very willing to hearhim, though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to betold%%the history of his acquaintance with Mr. &arcy. She dared not

even mention that gentleman. er curiosity, however, was une$pectedlyrelieved. Mr. 'ickham began the sub+ect himself. e inquired how far!etherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked ina hesitating manner how long Mr. &arcy had been staying there.

About a month, said )li*abeth; and then, unwilling to let the sub+ectdrop, added, e is a man of very large property in &erbyshire, understand.

/es, replied Mr. 'ickham; his estate there is a noble one. A clear



ten thousand per annum. /ou could not have met with a person morecapable of giving you certain information on that head than myself, for have been connected with his family in a particular manner from myinfancy.

)li*abeth could not but look surprised.

/ou may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, afterseeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meetingyesterday. Are you much acquainted with Mr. &arcy3

As much as ever wish to be, cried )li*abeth very warmly. havespent four days in the same house with him, and think him verydisagreeable.

have no right to give 1my1 opinion, said 'ickham, as to his beingagreeable or otherwise. am not qualified to form one. have known himtoo long and too well to be a fair +udge. t is impossible for 1me1to be impartial. But believe your opinion of him would in generalastonish%%and perhaps you would not e$press it quite so strongly

anywhere else. ere you are in your own family.

0pon my word, say no more 1here1 than might say in any house inthe neighbourhood, e$cept !etherfield. e is not at all liked inertfordshire. )verybody is disgusted with his pride. /ou will not findhim more favourably spoken of by anyone.

cannot pretend to be sorry, said 'ickham, after a shortinterruption, that he or that any man should not be estimated beyondtheir deserts; but with 1him1 believe it does not often happen. #heworld is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by hishigh and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen.

should take him, even on 1my1 slight acquaintance, to be anill%tempered man. 'ickham only shook his head.

wonder, said he, at the ne$t opportunity of speaking, whether he islikely to be in this country much longer.

do not at all know; but 1heard1 nothing of his going away when was at !etherfield. hope your plans in favour of the %%%%shire willnot be affected by his being in the neighbourhood.

2h( no%%it is not for 1me1 to be driven away by Mr. &arcy. f 1he1wishes to avoid seeing 1me1, he must go. 'e are not on friendly terms,and it always gives me pain to meet him, but have no reason foravoiding 1him1 but what might proclaim before all the world, a sense

of very great ill%usage, and most painful regrets at his being what heis. is father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr. &arcy, was one of the best menthat ever breathed, and the truest friend ever had; and can neverbe in company with this Mr. &arcy without being grieved to the soul bya thousand tender recollections. is behaviour to myself has beenscandalous; but verily believe could forgive him anything andeverything, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing thememory of his father.

)li*abeth found the interest of the sub+ect increase, and listened with



less, his son might have borne with me better; but his father6s uncommonattachment to me irritated him, believe, very early in life. e hadnot a temper to bear the sort of competition in which we stood%%the sortof preference which was often given me.

had not thought Mr. &arcy so bad as this%%though have never likedhim. had not thought so very ill of him. had supposed him to bedespising his fellow%creatures in general, but did not suspect him ofdescending to such malicious revenge, such in+ustice, such inhumanity asthis.

After a few minutes6 reflection, however, she continued, 1do1remember his boasting one day, at !etherfield, of the implacability ofhis resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. is dispositionmust be dreadful.

will not trust myself on the sub+ect, replied 'ickham; can hardlybe +ust to him.

)li*abeth was again deep in thought, and after a time e$claimed, #o

treat in such a manner the godson, the friend, the favourite of hisfather( She could have added, A young man, too, like 1you1, whose verycountenance may vouch for your being amiable%%but she contented herselfwith, and one, too, who had probably been his companion from childhood,connected together, as think you said, in the closest manner(

'e were born in the same parish, within the same park; the greatestpart of our youth was passed together; inmates of the same house,sharing the same amusements, ob+ects of the same parental care. 1My1father began life in the profession which your uncle, Mr. =hillips,appears to do so much credit to%%but he gave up everything to be ofuse to the late Mr. &arcy and devoted all his time to the care of the=emberley property. e was most highly esteemed by Mr. &arcy, a mostintimate, confidential friend. Mr. &arcy often acknowledged himself tobe under the greatest obligations to my father6s active superintendence,and when, immediately before my father6s death, Mr. &arcy gave him avoluntary promise of providing for me, am convinced that he felt it tobe as much a debt of gratitude to 1him1, as of his affection to myself.

ow strange( cried )li*abeth. ow abominable( wonder that the verypride of this Mr. &arcy has not made him +ust to you( f from no bettermotive, that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest%%fordishonesty must call it.

t 1is1 wonderful, replied 'ickham, for almost all his actions maybe traced to pride; and pride had often been his best friend. t hasconnected him nearer with virtue than with any other feeling. But we are

none of us consistent, and in his behaviour to me there were strongerimpulses even than pride.

-an such abominable pride as his have ever done him good3

/es. t has often led him to be liberal and generous, to give his moneyfreely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve thepoor. 7amily pride, and 1filial1 pride%%for he is very proud of whathis father was%%have done this. !ot to appear to disgrace his family,to degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the



=emberley ouse, is a powerful motive. e has also 1brotherly1 pride,which, with 1some1 brotherly affection, makes him a very kind andcareful guardian of his sister, and you will hear him generally cried upas the most attentive and best of brothers.

'hat sort of girl is Miss &arcy3

e shook his head. wish could call her amiable. t gives me pain tospeak ill of a &arcy. But she is too much like her brother%%very, veryproud. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and e$tremely fondof me; and have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she isnothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or si$teen,and, understand, highly accomplished. Since her father6s death, herhome has been "ondon, where a lady lives with her, and superintends hereducation.

After many pauses and many trials of other sub+ects, )li*abeth could nothelp reverting once more to the first, and saying4

am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley( ow can Mr. Bingley,

who seems good humour itself, and is, really believe, truly amiable,be in friendship with such a man3 ow can they suit each other3 &o youknow Mr. Bingley3

!ot at all.

e is a sweet%tempered, amiable, charming man. e cannot know what Mr.&arcy is.

=robably not; but Mr. &arcy can please where he chooses. e does notwant abilities. e can be a conversible companion if he thinks it worthhis while. Among those who are at all his equals in consequence, he isa very different man from what he is to the less prosperous. ispride never deserts him; but with the rich he is liberal%minded, +ust,sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps agreeable%%allowing somethingfor fortune and figure.

#he whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players gathered roundthe other table and Mr. -ollins took his station between his cousin)li*abeth and Mrs. =hillips. #he usual inquiries as to his success weremade by the latter. t had not been very great; he had lost everypoint; but when Mrs. =hillips began to e$press her concern thereupon,he assured her with much earnest gravity that it was not of the leastimportance, that he considered the money as a mere trifle, and beggedthat she would not make herself uneasy.

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 am not in such circumstances as to make five shillings any ob+ect. #hereare undoubtedly many who could not say the same, but thanks to "ady-atherine de Bourgh, am removed far beyond the necessity of regardinglittle matters.

Mr. 'ickham6s attention was caught; and after observing Mr. -ollins fora few moments, he asked )li*abeth in a low voice whether her relationwas very intimately acquainted with the family of de Bourgh.



"ady -atherine de Bourgh, she replied, has very lately given hima living. hardly know how Mr. -ollins was first introduced to hernotice, but he certainly has not known her long.

/ou know of course that "ady -atherine de Bourgh and "ady Anne &arcywere sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr. &arcy.

!o, indeed, did not. knew nothing at all of "ady -atherine6sconnections. never heard of her e$istence till the day beforeyesterday.

er daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune, and it isbelieved that she and her cousin will unite the two estates.

#his information made )li*abeth smile, as she thought of poor MissBingley. >ain indeed must be all her attentions, vain and useless heraffection for his sister and her praise of himself, if he were alreadyself%destined for another.

Mr. -ollins, said she, speaks highly both of "ady -atherine and her

daughter; but from some particulars that he has related of her ladyship, suspect his gratitude misleads him, and that in spite of her being hispatroness, she is an arrogant, conceited woman.

believe her to be both in a great degree, replied 'ickham; havenot seen her for many years, but very well remember that never likedher, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent. She has thereputation of being remarkably sensible and clever; but rather believeshe derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune, part fromher authoritative manner, and the rest from the pride for hernephew, who chooses that everyone connected with him should have anunderstanding of the first class.

)li*abeth allowed that he had given a very rational account of it, andthey continued talking together, with mutual satisfaction till supperput an end to cards, and gave the rest of the ladies their share of Mr.'ickham6s attentions. #here could be no conversation in the noiseof Mrs. =hillips6s supper party, but his manners recommended him toeverybody. 'hatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, donegracefully. )li*abeth went away with her head full of him. She couldthink of nothing but of Mr. 'ickham, and of what he had told her, allthe way home; but there was not time for her even to mention his nameas they went, for neither "ydia nor Mr. -ollins were once silent. "ydiatalked incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and thefish she had won; and Mr. -ollins in describing the civility of Mr. andMrs. =hillips, protesting that he did not in the least regard his lossesat whist, enumerating all the dishes at supper, and repeatedly fearing

that he crowded his cousins, had more to say than he could well managebefore the carriage stopped at "ongbourn ouse.

-hapter D@

)li*abeth related to 5ane the ne$t day what had passed between Mr.'ickham and herself. 5ane listened with astonishment and concern; she



knew not how to believe that Mr. &arcy could be so unworthy of Mr.Bingley6s regard; and yet, it was not in her nature to question theveracity of a young man of such amiable appearance as 'ickham. #hepossibility of his having endured such unkindness, was enough tointerest all her tender feelings; and nothing remained therefore to bedone, but to think well of them both, to defend the conduct of each,and throw into the account of accident or mistake whatever could not beotherwise e$plained.

#hey have both, said she, been deceived, dare say, in some wayor other, of which we can form no idea. nterested people have perhapsmisrepresented each to the other. t is, in short, impossible for us tocon+ecture the causes or circumstances which may have alienated them,without actual blame on either side.

>ery true, indeed; and now, my dear 5ane, what have you got to say onbehalf of the interested people who have probably been concerned in thebusiness3 &o clear 1them1 too, or we shall be obliged to think ill ofsomebody.

"augh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of myopinion. My dearest "i**y, do but consider in what a disgraceful lightit places Mr. &arcy, to be treating his father6s favourite in sucha manner, one whom his father had promised to provide for. t isimpossible. !o man of common humanity, no man who had any value for hischaracter, could be capable of it. -an his most intimate friends be soe$cessively deceived in him3 2h( no.

can much more easily believe Mr. Bingley6s being imposed on, thanthat Mr. 'ickham should invent such a history of himself as he gave melast night; names, facts, everything mentioned without ceremony. f itbe not so, let Mr. &arcy contradict it. Besides, there was truth in hislooks.

t is difficult indeed%%it is distressing. 2ne does not know what tothink.

beg your pardon; one knows e$actly what to think.

But 5ane could think with certainty on only one point%%that Mr. Bingley,if he 1had1 been imposed on, would have much to suffer when the affairbecame public.

#he two young ladies were summoned from the shrubbery, where thisconversation passed, by the arrival of the very persons of whom they hadbeen speaking; Mr. Bingley and his sisters came to give their personalinvitation for the long%e$pected ball at !etherfield, which was fi$ed

for the following #uesday. #he two ladies were delighted to see theirdear friend again, called it an age since they had met, and repeatedlyasked what she had been doing with herself since their separation. #othe rest of the family they paid little attention; avoiding Mrs. Bennetas much as possible, saying not much to )li*abeth, and nothing at all tothe others. #hey were soon gone again, rising from their seats with anactivity which took their brother by surprise, and hurrying off as ifeager to escape from Mrs. Bennet6s civilities.

#he prospect of the !etherfield ball was e$tremely agreeable to every



female of the family. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as given incompliment to her eldest daughter, and was particularly flatteredby receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley himself, instead of aceremonious card. 5ane pictured to herself a happy evening in thesociety of her two friends, and the attentions of their brother; and)li*abeth thought with pleasure of dancing a great deal with Mr.'ickham, and of seeing a confirmation of everything in Mr. &arcy6s lookand behaviour. #he happiness anticipated by -atherine and "ydia dependedless on any single event, or any particular person, for though theyeach, like )li*abeth, meant to dance half the evening with Mr. 'ickham,he was by no means the only partner who could satisfy them, and a ballwas, at any rate, a ball. And even Mary could assure her family that shehad no disinclination for it.

'hile can have my mornings to myself, said she, it is enough%%think it is no sacrifice to +oin occasionally in evening engagements.Society has claims on us all; and profess myself one of thosewho consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable foreverybody.

)li*abeth6s spirits were so high on this occasion, that though she didnot often speak unnecessarily to Mr. -ollins, she could not help askinghim whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley6s invitation, and ifhe did, whether he would think it proper to +oin in the evening6samusement; and she was rather surprised to find that he entertained noscruple whatever on that head, and was very far from dreading a rebukeeither from the Archbishop, or "ady -atherine de Bourgh, by venturing todance.

am by no means of the opinion, assure you, said he, that a ballof this kind, given by a young man of character, to respectable people,can have any evil tendency; and am so far from ob+ecting to dancingmyself, that shall hope to be honoured with the hands of all my faircousins in the course of the evening; and take this opportunity ofsoliciting yours, Miss )li*abeth, for the two first dances especially,a preference which trust my cousin 5ane will attribute to the rightcause, and not to any disrespect for her.

)li*abeth felt herself completely taken in. She had fully proposed beingengaged by Mr. 'ickham for those very dances; and to have Mr. -ollinsinstead( her liveliness had never been worse timed. #here was no helpfor it, however. Mr. 'ickham6s happiness and her own were perforcedelayed a little longer, and Mr. -ollins6s proposal accepted with asgood a grace as she could. She was not the better pleased with hisgallantry from the idea it suggested of something more. t now firststruck her, that 1she1 was selected from among her sisters as worthyof being mistress of unsford =arsonage, and of assisting to form a

quadrille table at <osings, in the absence of more eligible visitors.#he idea soon reached to conviction, as she observed his increasingcivilities toward herself, and heard his frequent attempt at acompliment on her wit and vivacity; and though more astonished thangratified herself by this effect of her charms, it was not long beforeher mother gave her to understand that the probability of their marriagewas e$tremely agreeable to 1her1. )li*abeth, however, did not chooseto take the hint, being well aware that a serious dispute must be theconsequence of any reply. Mr. -ollins might never make the offer, andtill he did, it was useless to quarrel about him.



f there had not been a !etherfield ball to prepare for and talk of, theyounger Miss Bennets would have been in a very pitiable state at thistime, for from the day of the invitation, to the day of the ball, therewas such a succession of rain as prevented their walking to Merytononce. !o aunt, no officers, no news could be sought after%%the veryshoe%roses for !etherfield were got by pro$y. )ven )li*abeth might havefound some trial of her patience in weather which totally suspended theimprovement of her acquaintance with Mr. 'ickham; and nothing less thana dance on #uesday, could have made such a 7riday, Saturday, Sunday, andMonday endurable to 8itty and "ydia.

-hapter D

#ill )li*abeth entered the drawing%room at !etherfield, and looked invain for Mr. 'ickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled, adoubt of his being present had never occurred to her. #he certainty

of meeting him had not been checked by any of those recollections thatmight not unreasonably have alarmed her. She had dressed with more thanusual care, and prepared in the highest spirits for the conquest of allthat remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it was not more thanmight be won in the course of the evening. But in an instant arosethe dreadful suspicion of his being purposely omitted for Mr. &arcy6spleasure in the Bingleys6 invitation to the officers; and thoughthis was not e$actly the case, the absolute fact of his absence waspronounced by his friend &enny, to whom "ydia eagerly applied, and whotold them that 'ickham had been obliged to go to town on business theday before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile, do not imagine his business would have called him away +ust now, ifhe had not wanted to avoid a certain gentleman here.

#his part of his intelligence, though unheard by "ydia, was caught by)li*abeth, and, as it assured her that &arcy was not less answerable for'ickham6s absence than if her first surmise had been +ust, everyfeeling of displeasure against the former was so sharpened by immediatedisappointment, that she could hardly reply with tolerable civility tothe polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make.Attendance, forbearance, patience with &arcy, was in+ury to 'ickham. Shewas resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned awaywith a degree of ill%humour which she could not wholly surmount even inspeaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind partiality provoked her.

But )li*abeth was not formed for ill%humour; and though every prospectof her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long on her

spirits; and having told all her griefs to -harlotte "ucas, whom she hadnot seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary transitionto the oddities of her cousin, and to point him out to her particularnotice. #he first two dances, however, brought a return of distress;they were dances of mortification. Mr. -ollins, awkward and solemn,apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong without beingaware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeablepartner for a couple of dances can give. #he moment of her release fromhim was ecstasy.



She danced ne$t with an officer, and had the refreshment of talking of'ickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked. 'hen those danceswere over, she returned to -harlotte "ucas, and was in conversation withher, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. &arcy who tookher so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that,without knowing what she did, she accepted him. e walked away againimmediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence ofmind; -harlotte tried to console her4

dare say you will find him very agreeable.

eaven forbid( 1#hat1 would be the greatest misfortune of all( #o finda man agreeable whom one is determined to hate( &o not wish me such anevil.

'hen the dancing recommenced, however, and &arcy approached to claim herhand, -harlotte could not help cautioning her in a whisper, not to be asimpleton, and allow her fancy for 'ickham to make her appear unpleasantin the eyes of a man ten times his consequence. )li*abeth made noanswer, and took her place in the set, ama*ed at the dignity to which

she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. &arcy, andreading in her neighbours6 looks, their equal ama*ement in beholdingit. #hey stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began toimagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and atfirst was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it wouldbe the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she madesome slight observation on the dance. e replied, and was againsilent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second timewith4%%t is 1your1 turn to say something now, Mr. &arcy. talkedabout the dance, and 1you1 ought to make some sort of remark on the si*eof the room, or the number of couples.

e smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should besaid.

>ery well. #hat reply will do for the present. =erhaps by and by mayobserve that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But1now1 we may be silent.

&o you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing3

Sometimes. 2ne must speak a little, you know. t would look odd to beentirely silent for half an hour together; and yet for the advantage of1some1, conversation ought to be so arranged, as that they may have thetrouble of saying as little as possible.

Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you

imagine that you are gratifying mine3

Both, replied )li*abeth archly; for have always seen a greatsimilarity in the turn of our minds. 'e are each of an unsocial,taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we e$pect to saysomething that will ama*e the whole room, and be handed down toposterity with all the eclat of a proverb.

#his is no very striking resemblance of your own character, am sure,said he. ow near it may be to 1mine1, cannot pretend to say. 1/ou1



!o%% cannot talk of books in a ball%room; my head is always full ofsomething else.

#he 1present1 always occupies you in such scenes%%does it3 said he,with a look of doubt.

/es, always, she replied, without knowing what she said, for herthoughts had wandered far from the sub+ect, as soon afterwards appearedby her suddenly e$claiming, remember hearing you once say, Mr. &arcy,that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created wasunappeasable. /ou are very cautious, suppose, as to its 1beingcreated1.

am, said he, with a firm voice.

And never allow yourself to be blinded by pre+udice3

hope not.

t is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion,

to be secure of +udging properly at first.

May ask to what these questions tend3

Merely to the illustration of 1your1 character, said she, endeavouringto shake off her gravity. am trying to make it out.

And what is your success3

She shook her head. do not get on at all. hear such differentaccounts of you as pu**le me e$ceedingly.

can readily believe, answered he gravely, that reports may varygreatly with respect to me; and could wish, Miss Bennet, that you werenot to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason tofear that the performance would reflect no credit on either.

But if do not take your likeness now, may never have anotheropportunity.

would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours, he coldly replied.She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted insilence; and on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree,for in &arcy6s breast there was a tolerably powerful feeling towardsher, which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger againstanother.

#hey had not long separated, when Miss Bingley came towards her, andwith an e$pression of civil disdain accosted her4

So, Miss )li*a, hear you are quite delighted with 9eorge 'ickham(/our sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a thousandquestions; and find that the young man quite forgot to tell you, amonghis other communication, that he was the son of old 'ickham, the lateMr. &arcy6s steward. "et me recommend you, however, as a friend, not togive implicit confidence to all his assertions; for as to Mr. &arcy6susing him ill, it is perfectly false; for, on the contrary, he has



always been remarkably kind to him, though 9eorge 'ickham has treatedMr. &arcy in a most infamous manner. do not know the particulars, but know very well that Mr. &arcy is not in the least to blame, that hecannot bear to hear 9eorge 'ickham mentioned, and that though my brotherthought that he could not well avoid including him in his invitation tothe officers, he was e$cessively glad to find that he had taken himselfout of the way. is coming into the country at all is a most insolentthing, indeed, and wonder how he could presume to do it. pity you,Miss )li*a, for this discovery of your favourite6s guilt; but really,considering his descent, one could not e$pect much better.

is guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same, said)li*abeth angrily; for have heard you accuse him of nothing worsethan of being the son of Mr. &arcy6s steward, and of 1that1, canassure you, he informed me himself.

beg your pardon, replied Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer.)$cuse my interference%%it was kindly meant.

nsolent girl( said )li*abeth to herself. /ou are much mistaken

if you e$pect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. seenothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and the malice of Mr.&arcy. She then sought her eldest sister, who had undertaken to makeinquiries on the same sub+ect of Bingley. 5ane met her with a smile ofsuch sweet complacency, a glow of such happy e$pression, as sufficientlymarked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening.)li*abeth instantly read her feelings, and at that moment solicitude for'ickham, resentment against his enemies, and everything else, gave waybefore the hope of 5ane6s being in the fairest way for happiness.

want to know, said she, with a countenance no less smiling than hersister6s, what you have learnt about Mr. 'ickham. But perhaps you havebeen too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person; in which caseyou may be sure of my pardon.

!o, replied 5ane, have not forgotten him; but have nothingsatisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole ofhis history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which haveprincipally offended Mr. &arcy; but he will vouch for the good conduct,the probity, and honour of his friend, and is perfectly convinced thatMr. 'ickham has deserved much less attention from Mr. &arcy than he hasreceived; and am sorry to say by his account as well as his sister6s,Mr. 'ickham is by no means a respectable young man. am afraid he hasbeen very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr. &arcy6s regard.

Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. 'ickham himself3

!o; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton.

#his account then is what he has received from Mr. &arcy. amsatisfied. But what does he say of the living3

e does not e$actly recollect the circumstances, though he has heardthem from Mr. &arcy more than once, but he believes that it was left tohim 1conditionally1 only.

have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley6s sincerity, said )li*abeth warmly;



but you must e$cuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Mr.Bingley6s defense of his friend was a very able one, dare say; butsince he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learntthe rest from that friend himself, shall venture to still think ofboth gentlemen as did before.

She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and onwhich there could be no difference of sentiment. )li*abeth listened withdelight to the happy, though modest hopes which 5ane entertained of Mr.Bingley6s regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidencein it. 2n their being +oined by Mr. Bingley himself, )li*abeth withdrewto Miss "ucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her lastpartner she had scarcely replied, before Mr. -ollins came up to them,and told her with great e$ultation that he had +ust been so fortunate asto make a most important discovery.

have found out, said he, by a singular accident, that there is nowin the room a near relation of my patroness. happened to overhear thegentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the honours ofthe house the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother "ady

-atherine. ow wonderfully these sort of things occur( 'ho would havethought of my meeting with, perhaps, a nephew of "ady -atherine deBourgh in this assembly( am most thankful that the discovery is madein time for me to pay my respects to him, which am now going todo, and trust he will e$cuse my not having done it before. My totalignorance of the connection must plead my apology.

/ou are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. &arcy(

ndeed am. shall entreat his pardon for not having done it earlier. believe him to be "ady -atherine6s 1nephew1. t will be in my power toassure him that her ladyship was quite well yesterday se6nnight.

)li*abeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme, assuring himthat Mr. &arcy would consider his addressing him without introductionas an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt; thatit was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on eitherside; and that if it were, it must belong to Mr. &arcy, the superior inconsequence, to begin the acquaintance. Mr. -ollins listened to herwith the determined air of following his own inclination, and, when sheceased speaking, replied thus4

My dear Miss )li*abeth, have the highest opinion in the world inyour e$cellent +udgement in all matters within the scope of yourunderstanding; but permit me to say, that there must be a widedifference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity,and those which regulate the clergy; for, give me leave to observe that

consider the clerical office as equal in point of dignity withthe highest rank in the kingdom%%provided that a proper humility ofbehaviour is at the same time maintained. /ou must therefore allow me tofollow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me toperform what look on as a point of duty. =ardon me for neglecting toprofit by your advice, which on every other sub+ect shall be my constantguide, though in the case before us consider myself more fitted byeducation and habitual study to decide on what is right than a younglady like yourself. And with a low bow he left her to attack Mr.&arcy, whose reception of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose



astonishment at being so addressed was very evident. er cousin prefacedhis speech with a solemn bow and though she could not hear a word ofit, she felt as if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips thewords apology, unsford, and "ady -atherine de Bourgh. t ve$edher to see him e$pose himself to such a man. Mr. &arcy was eyeing himwith unrestrained wonder, and when at last Mr. -ollins allowed him timeto speak, replied with an air of distant civility. Mr. -ollins, however,was not discouraged from speaking again, and Mr. &arcy6s contempt seemedabundantly increasing with the length of his second speech, and at theend of it he only made him a slight bow, and moved another way. Mr.-ollins then returned to )li*abeth.

have no reason, assure you, said he, to be dissatisfied with myreception. Mr. &arcy seemed much pleased with the attention. e answeredme with the utmost civility, and even paid me the compliment of sayingthat he was so well convinced of "ady -atherine6s discernment as to becertain she could never bestow a favour unworthily. t was really a veryhandsome thought. 0pon the whole, am much pleased with him.

As )li*abeth had no longer any interest of her own to pursue, she turned

her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley; and thetrain of agreeable reflections which her observations gave birth to,made her perhaps almost as happy as 5ane. She saw her in idea settled inthat very house, in all the felicity which a marriage of true affectioncould bestow; and she felt capable, under such circumstances, ofendeavouring even to like Bingley6s two sisters. er mother6s thoughtsshe plainly saw were bent the same way, and she determined not toventure near her, lest she might hear too much. 'hen they sat down tosupper, therefore, she considered it a most unlucky perverseness whichplaced them within one of each other; and deeply was she ve$ed to findthat her mother was talking to that one person H"ady "ucasI freely,openly, and of nothing else but her e$pectation that 5ane would soonbe married to Mr. Bingley. t was an animating sub+ect, and Mrs. Bennetseemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of thematch. is being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living butthree miles from them, were the first points of self%gratulation; andthen it was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of5ane, and to be certain that they must desire the connection as much asshe could do. t was, moreover, such a promising thing for her youngerdaughters, as 5ane6s marrying so greatly must throw them in the way ofother rich men; and lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to beable to consign her single daughters to the care of their sister, thatshe might not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. t wasnecessary to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure, because onsuch occasions it is the etiquette; but no one was less likely than Mrs.Bennet to find comfort in staying home at any period of her life. Sheconcluded with many good wishes that "ady "ucas might soon be equally

fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there was nochance of it.

n vain did )li*abeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother6swords, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audiblewhisper; for, to her ine$pressible ve$ation, she could perceive that thechief of it was overheard by Mr. &arcy, who sat opposite to them. ermother only scolded her for being nonsensical.

'hat is Mr. &arcy to me, pray, that should be afraid of him3 am



sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to saynothing 1he1 may not like to hear.

7or heaven6s sake, madam, speak lower. 'hat advantage can it be for youto offend Mr. &arcy3 /ou will never recommend yourself to his friend byso doing(

!othing that she could say, however, had any influence. er mother wouldtalk of her views in the same intelligible tone. )li*abeth blushed andblushed again with shame and ve$ation. She could not help frequentlyglancing her eye at Mr. &arcy, though every glance convinced her of whatshe dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother, she wasconvinced that his attention was invariably fi$ed by her. #he e$pressionof his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed andsteady gravity.

At length, however, Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and "ady "ucas, whohad been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw nolikelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham andchicken. )li*abeth now began to revive. But not long was the interval of

tranquillity; for, when supper was over, singing was talked of, andshe had the mortification of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty,preparing to oblige the company. By many significant looks and silententreaties, did she endeavour to prevent such a proof of complaisance,but in vain; Mary would not understand them; such an opportunity ofe$hibiting was delightful to her, and she began her song. )li*abeth6seyes were fi$ed on her with most painful sensations, and she watched herprogress through the several stan*as with an impatience which was veryill rewarded at their close; for Mary, on receiving, amongst the thanksof the table, the hint of a hope that she might be prevailed on tofavour them again, after the pause of half a minute began another.Mary6s powers were by no means fitted for such a display; her voice wasweak, and her manner affected. )li*abeth was in agonies. She looked at5ane, to see how she bore it; but 5ane was very composedly talking toBingley. She looked at his two sisters, and saw them making signsof derision at each other, and at &arcy, who continued, however,imperturbably grave. She looked at her father to entreat hisinterference, lest Mary should be singing all night. e took the hint,and when Mary had finished her second song, said aloud, #hat will doe$tremely well, child. /ou have delighted us long enough. "et the otheryoung ladies have time to e$hibit.

Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat disconcerted; and)li*abeth, sorry for her, and sorry for her father6s speech, was afraidher an$iety had done no good. 2thers of the party were now applied to.

f , said Mr. -ollins, were so fortunate as to be able to sing,

should have great pleasure, am sure, in obliging the company with anair; for consider music as a very innocent diversion, and perfectlycompatible with the profession of a clergyman. do not mean, however,to assert that we can be +ustified in devoting too much of our timeto music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. #herector of a parish has much to do. n the first place, he must makesuch an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial to himself and notoffensive to his patron. e must write his own sermons; and the timethat remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the careand improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be e$cused from making



as comfortable as possible. And do not think it of light importancethat he should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards everybody,especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. cannot acquithim of that duty; nor could think well of the man who should omit anoccasion of testifying his respect towards anybody connected with thefamily. And with a bow to Mr. &arcy, he concluded his speech, which hadbeen spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room. Many stared%%manysmiled; but no one looked more amused than Mr. Bennet himself, while hiswife seriously commended Mr. -ollins for having spoken so sensibly,and observed in a half%whisper to "ady "ucas, that he was a remarkablyclever, good kind of young man.

#o )li*abeth it appeared that, had her family made an agreement toe$pose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it wouldhave been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit orfiner success; and happy did she think it for Bingley and her sisterthat some of the e$hibition had escaped his notice, and that hisfeelings were not of a sort to be much distressed by the folly which hemust have witnessed. #hat his two sisters and Mr. &arcy, however, shouldhave such an opportunity of ridiculing her relations, was bad enough,

and she could not determine whether the silent contempt of thegentleman, or the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable.

#he rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teased byMr. -ollins, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and thoughhe could not prevail on her to dance with him again, put it out of herpower to dance with others. n vain did she entreat him to stand up withsomebody else, and offer to introduce him to any young lady in the room.e assured her, that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent to it;that his chief ob+ect was by delicate attentions to recommend himself toher and that he should therefore make a point of remaining close to herthe whole evening. #here was no arguing upon such a pro+ect. She owedher greatest relief to her friend Miss "ucas, who often +oined them, andgood%naturedly engaged Mr. -ollins6s conversation to herself.

She was at least free from the offense of Mr. &arcy6s further notice;though often standing within a very short distance of her, quitedisengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She felt it to be theprobable consequence of her allusions to Mr. 'ickham, and re+oiced init.

#he "ongbourn party were the last of all the company to depart, and, bya manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriage a quarter ofan hour after everybody else was gone, which gave them time to see howheartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. urst and hersister scarcely opened their mouths, e$cept to complain of fatigue, andwere evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. #hey repulsed

every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and by so doing threw alanguor over the whole party, which was very little relieved by thelong speeches of Mr. -ollins, who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and hissisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality andpoliteness which had marked their behaviour to their guests. &arcy saidnothing at all. Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was en+oying the scene.Mr. Bingley and 5ane were standing together, a little detached from therest, and talked only to each other. )li*abeth preserved as steady asilence as either Mrs. urst or Miss Bingley; and even "ydia was toomuch fatigued to utter more than the occasional e$clamation of "ord,



how tired am( accompanied by a violent yawn.

'hen at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressinglycivil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at "ongbourn, andaddressed herself especially to Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy hewould make them by eating a family dinner with them at any time, withoutthe ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful pleasure,and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting onher, after his return from "ondon, whither he was obliged to go the ne$tday for a short time.

Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied, and quitted the house under thedelightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations ofsettlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes, she should undoubtedlysee her daughter settled at !etherfield in the course of three or fourmonths. 2f having another daughter married to Mr. -ollins, she thoughtwith equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure.)li*abeth was the least dear to her of all her children; and though theman and the match were quite good enough for 1her1, the worth of eachwas eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and !etherfield.

-hapter DC

#he ne$t day opened a new scene at "ongbourn. Mr. -ollins made hisdeclaration in form. aving resolved to do it without loss of time, ashis leave of absence e$tended only to the following Saturday, and havingno feelings of diffidence to make it distressing to himself even atthe moment, he set about it in a very orderly manner, with all theobservances, which he supposed a regular part of the business. 2nfinding Mrs. Bennet, )li*abeth, and one of the younger girls together,soon after breakfast, he addressed the mother in these words4

May hope, madam, for your interest with your fair daughter )li*abeth,when solicit for the honour of a private audience with her in thecourse of this morning3

Before )li*abeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, Mrs.Bennet answered instantly, 2h dear(%%yes%%certainly. am sure "i**ywill be very happy%% am sure she can have no ob+ection. -ome, 8itty, want you up stairs. And, gathering her work together, she was hasteningaway, when )li*abeth called out4

&ear madam, do not go. beg you will not go. Mr. -ollins must e$cuseme. e can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear. am

going away myself.

!o, no, nonsense, "i**y. desire you to stay where you are. And upon)li*abeth6s seeming really, with ve$ed and embarrassed looks, about toescape, she added4 "i**y, 1insist1 upon your staying and hearing Mr.-ollins.

)li*abeth would not oppose such an in+unction%%and a moment6sconsideration making her also sensible that it would be wisest to get itover as soon and as quietly as possible, she sat down again and tried to



conceal, by incessant employment the feelings which were divided betweendistress and diversion. Mrs. Bennet and 8itty walked off, and as soon asthey were gone, Mr. -ollins began.

Believe me, my dear Miss )li*abeth, that your modesty, so far fromdoing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. /ouwould have been less amiable in my eyes had there 1not1 been this littleunwillingness; but allow me to assure you, that have your respectedmother6s permission for this address. /ou can hardly doubt thepurport of my discourse, however your natural delicacy may lead you todissemble; my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost assoon as entered the house, singled you out as the companion ofmy future life. But before am run away with by my feelings on thissub+ect, perhaps it would be advisable for me to state my reasons formarrying%%and, moreover, for coming into ertfordshire with the designof selecting a wife, as certainly did.

#he idea of Mr. -ollins, with all his solemn composure, being run awaywith by his feelings, made )li*abeth so near laughing, that she couldnot use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop him further,

and he continued4

My reasons for marrying are, first, that think it a right thing forevery clergyman in easy circumstances Hlike myselfI to set the e$ampleof matrimony in his parish; secondly, that am convinced that it willadd very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly%%which perhaps oughtto have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice andrecommendation of the very noble lady whom have the honour of callingpatroness. #wice has she condescended to give me her opinion Hunaskedtoo(I on this sub+ect; and it was but the very Saturday night before left unsford%%between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. 5enkinson wasarranging Miss de Bourgh6s footstool, that she said, 6Mr. -ollins, youmust marry. A clergyman like you must marry. -hoose properly, choosea gentlewoman for 1my1 sake; and for your 1own1, let her be an active,useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a smallincome go a good way. #his is my advice. 7ind such a woman as soon asyou can, bring her to unsford, and will visit her.6 Allow me, by theway, to observe, my fair cousin, that do not reckon the noticeand kindness of "ady -atherine de Bourgh as among the least of theadvantages in my power to offer. /ou will find her manners beyondanything can describe; and your wit and vivacity, think, must beacceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence andrespect which her rank will inevitably e$cite. #hus much for my generalintention in favour of matrimony; it remains to be told why my viewswere directed towards "ongbourn instead of my own neighbourhood, where can assure you there are many amiable young women. But the fact is, thatbeing, as am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honoured

father Hwho, however, may live many years longerI, could not satisfymyself without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters, thatthe loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholyevent takes place%%which, however, as have already said, may notbe for several years. #his has been my motive, my fair cousin, and flatter myself it will not sink me in your esteem. And now nothingremains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of theviolence of my affection. #o fortune am perfectly indifferent, andshall make no demand of that nature on your father, since am wellaware that it could not be complied with; and that one thousand pounds



in the four per cents, which will not be yours till after your mother6sdecease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. 2n that head,therefore, shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself thatno ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married.

t was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now.

/ou are too hasty, sir, she cried. /ou forget that have made noanswer. "et me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks forthe compliment you are paying me. am very sensible of the honour ofyour proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than todecline them.

am not now to learn, replied Mr. -ollins, with a formal wave of thehand, that it is usual with young ladies to re+ect the addresses of theman whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for theirfavour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second, or even athird time. am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have +ustsaid, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.

0pon my word, sir, cried )li*abeth, your hope is a rathere$traordinary one after my declaration. do assure you that am notone of those young ladies Hif such young ladies there areI who are sodaring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a secondtime. am perfectly serious in my refusal. /ou could not make 1me1happy, and am convinced that am the last woman in the world whocould make you so. !ay, were your friend "ady -atherine to know me, am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for thesituation.

'ere it certain that "ady -atherine would think so, said Mr. -ollinsvery gravely%%but cannot imagine that her ladyship would at alldisapprove of you. And you may be certain when have the honour ofseeing her again, shall speak in the very highest terms of yourmodesty, economy, and other amiable qualification.

ndeed, Mr. -ollins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. /oumust give me leave to +udge for myself, and pay me the complimentof believing what say. wish you very happy and very rich, and byrefusing your hand, do all in my power to prevent your being otherwise.n making me the offer, you must have satisfied the delicacy of yourfeelings with regard to my family, and may take possession of "ongbournestate whenever it falls, without any self%reproach. #his matter maybe considered, therefore, as finally settled. And rising as shethus spoke, she would have quitted the room, had Mr. -ollins not thusaddressed her4

'hen do myself the honour of speaking to you ne$t on the sub+ect, shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now givenme; though am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because know it to be the established custom of your se$ to re+ect a man onthe first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much toencourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of thefemale character.

<eally, Mr. -ollins, cried )li*abeth with some warmth, you pu**le mee$ceedingly. f what have hitherto said can appear to you in the form



of encouragement, know not how to e$press my refusal in such a way asto convince you of its being one.

/ou must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that yourrefusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons forbelieving it are briefly these4 t does not appear to me that my hand isunworthy of your acceptance, or that the establishment can offer wouldbe any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connectionswith the family of de Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, arecircumstances highly in my favour; and you should take it into furtherconsideration, that in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by nomeans certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you. /ourportion is unhappily so small that it will in all likelihood undothe effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As musttherefore conclude that you are not serious in your re+ection of me, shall choose to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love bysuspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females.

do assure you, sir, that have no pretensions whatever to that kindof elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. would

rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. thank youagain and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, butto accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respectforbid it. -an speak plainer3 &o not consider me now as an elegantfemale, intending to plague you, but as a rational creature, speakingthe truth from her heart.

/ou are uniformly charming( cried he, with an air of awkwardgallantry; and am persuaded that when sanctioned by the e$pressauthority of both your e$cellent parents, my proposals will not fail ofbeing acceptable.

#o such perseverance in wilful self%deception )li*abeth would makeno reply, and immediately and in silence withdrew; determined, ifhe persisted in considering her repeated refusals as flatteringencouragement, to apply to her father, whose negative might be utteredin such a manner as to be decisive, and whose behaviour at least couldnot be mistaken for the affectation and coquetry of an elegant female.

-hapter FE

Mr. -ollins was not left long to the silent contemplation of hissuccessful love; for Mrs. Bennet, having dawdled about in the vestibuleto watch for the end of the conference, no sooner saw )li*abeth open

the door and with quick step pass her towards the staircase, than sheentered the breakfast%room, and congratulated both him and herself inwarm terms on the happy prospect of their nearer connection. Mr. -ollinsreceived and returned these felicitations with equal pleasure, and thenproceeded to relate the particulars of their interview, with the resultof which he trusted he had every reason to be satisfied, since therefusal which his cousin had steadfastly given him would naturally flowfrom her bashful modesty and the genuine delicacy of her character.

#his information, however, startled Mrs. Bennet; she would have been



glad to be equally satisfied that her daughter had meant to encouragehim by protesting against his proposals, but she dared not believe it,and could not help saying so.

But, depend upon it, Mr. -ollins, she added, that "i**y shall bebrought to reason. will speak to her about it directly. She is a veryheadstrong, foolish girl, and does not know her own interest but will1make1 her know it.

=ardon me for interrupting you, madam, cried Mr. -ollins; but ifshe is really headstrong and foolish, know not whether she wouldaltogether be a very desirable wife to a man in my situation, whonaturally looks for happiness in the marriage state. f therefore sheactually persists in re+ecting my suit, perhaps it were better notto force her into accepting me, because if liable to such defects oftemper, she could not contribute much to my felicity.

Sir, you quite misunderstand me, said Mrs. Bennet, alarmed. "i**y isonly headstrong in such matters as these. n everything else she is asgood%natured a girl as ever lived. will go directly to Mr. Bennet, and

we shall very soon settle it with her, am sure.

She would not give him time to reply, but hurrying instantly to herhusband, called out as she entered the library, 2h( Mr. Bennet, youare wanted immediately; we are all in an uproar. /ou must come and make"i**y marry Mr. -ollins, for she vows she will not have him, and if youdo not make haste he will change his mind and not have 1her1.

Mr. Bennet raised his eyes from his book as she entered, and fi$ed themon her face with a calm unconcern which was not in the least altered byher communication.

have not the pleasure of understanding you, said he, when she hadfinished her speech. 2f what are you talking3

2f Mr. -ollins and "i**y. "i**y declares she will not have Mr. -ollins,and Mr. -ollins begins to say that he will not have "i**y.

And what am to do on the occasion3 t seems an hopeless business.

Speak to "i**y about it yourself. #ell her that you insist upon hermarrying him.

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

Mrs. Bennet rang the bell, and Miss )li*abeth was summoned to thelibrary.

-ome here, child, cried her father as she appeared. have sent foryou on an affair of importance. understand that Mr. -ollins has madeyou an offer of marriage. s it true3 )li*abeth replied that it was.>ery well%%and this offer of marriage you have refused3

have, sir.

>ery well. 'e now come to the point. /our mother insists upon youraccepting it. s it not so, Mrs. Bennet3



/es, or will never see her again.

An unhappy alternative is before you, )li*abeth. 7rom this day you mustbe a stranger to one of your parents. /our mother will never see youagain if you do 1not1 marry Mr. -ollins, and will never see you againif you 1do1.

)li*abeth could not but smile at such a conclusion of such a beginning,but Mrs. Bennet, who had persuaded herself that her husband regarded theaffair as she wished, was e$cessively disappointed.

'hat do you mean, Mr. Bennet, in talking this way3 /ou promised me to1insist1 upon her marrying him.

My dear, replied her husband, have two small favours to request.7irst, that you will allow me the free use of my understanding on thepresent occasion; and secondly, of my room. shall be glad to have thelibrary to myself as soon as may be.

!ot yet, however, in spite of her disappointment in her husband, didMrs. Bennet give up the point. She talked to )li*abeth again and again;coa$ed and threatened her by turns. She endeavoured to secure 5anein her interest; but 5ane, with all possible mildness, declinedinterfering; and )li*abeth, sometimes with real earnestness, andsometimes with playful gaiety, replied to her attacks. #hough her mannervaried, however, her determination never did.

Mr. -ollins, meanwhile, was meditating in solitude on what had passed.e thought too well of himself to comprehend on what motives his cousincould refuse him; and though his pride was hurt, he suffered in no otherway. is regard for her was quite imaginary; and the possibility of herdeserving her mother6s reproach prevented his feeling any regret.

'hile the family were in this confusion, -harlotte "ucas came to spendthe day with them. She was met in the vestibule by "ydia, who, flying toher, cried in a half whisper, am glad you are come, for there is suchfun here( 'hat do you think has happened this morning3 Mr. -ollins hasmade an offer to "i**y, and she will not have him.

-harlotte hardly had time to answer, before they were +oined by 8itty,who came to tell the same news; and no sooner had they entered thebreakfast%room, where Mrs. Bennet was alone, than she likewise began onthe sub+ect, calling on Miss "ucas for her compassion, and entreatingher to persuade her friend "i**y to comply with the wishes of all herfamily. =ray do, my dear Miss "ucas, she added in a melancholy tone,for nobody is on my side, nobody takes part with me. am cruelly used,

nobody feels for my poor nerves.

-harlotte6s reply was spared by the entrance of 5ane and )li*abeth.

Aye, there she comes, continued Mrs. Bennet, looking as unconcernedas may be, and caring no more for us than if we were at /ork, providedshe can have her own way. But tell you, Miss "i**y%%if you take itinto your head to go on refusing every offer of marriage in this way,you will never get a husband at all%%and am sure do not know who isto maintain you when your father is dead. shall not be able to keep



you%%and so warn you. have done with you from this very day. toldyou in the library, you know, that should never speak to you again,and you will find me as good as my word. have no pleasure in talkingto undutiful children. !ot that have much pleasure, indeed, in talkingto anybody. =eople who suffer as do from nervous complaints can haveno great inclination for talking. !obody can tell what suffer( But itis always so. #hose who do not complain are never pitied.

er daughters listened in silence to this effusion, sensible thatany attempt to reason with her or soothe her would only increase theirritation. She talked on, therefore, without interruption from any ofthem, till they were +oined by Mr. -ollins, who entered the room withan air more stately than usual, and on perceiving whom, she said tothe girls, !ow, do insist upon it, that you, all of you, holdyour tongues, and let me and Mr. -ollins have a little conversationtogether.

)li*abeth passed quietly out of the room, 5ane and 8itty followed, but"ydia stood her ground, determined to hear all she could; and -harlotte,detained first by the civility of Mr. -ollins, whose inquiries after

herself and all her family were very minute, and then by a littlecuriosity, satisfied herself with walking to the window and pretendingnot to hear. n a doleful voice Mrs. Bennet began the pro+ectedconversation4 2h( Mr. -ollins(

My dear madam, replied he, let us be for ever silent on this point.7ar be it from me, he presently continued, in a voice that marked hisdispleasure, to resent the behaviour of your daughter. <esignationto inevitable evils is the duty of us all; the peculiar duty of ayoung man who has been so fortunate as have been in early preferment;and trust am resigned. =erhaps not the less so from feeling a doubtof my positive happiness had my fair cousin honoured me with her hand;for have often observed that resignation is never so perfect aswhen the blessing denied begins to lose somewhat of its value in ourestimation. /ou will not, hope, consider me as showing any disrespectto your family, my dear madam, by thus withdrawing my pretensions toyour daughter6s favour, without having paid yourself and Mr. Bennet thecompliment of requesting you to interpose your authority in mybehalf. My conduct may, fear, be ob+ectionable in having accepted mydismission from your daughter6s lips instead of your own. But we are allliable to error. have certainly meant well through the whole affair.My ob+ect has been to secure an amiable companion for myself, with dueconsideration for the advantage of all your family, and if my 1manner1has been at all reprehensible, here beg leave to apologise.

-hapter FD

#he discussion of Mr. -ollins6s offer was now nearly at an end, and)li*abeth had only to suffer from the uncomfortable feelings necessarilyattending it, and occasionally from some peevish allusions of hermother. As for the gentleman himself, 1his1 feelings were chieflye$pressed, not by embarrassment or de+ection, or by trying to avoid her,but by stiffness of manner and resentful silence. e scarcely ever spoketo her, and the assiduous attentions which he had been so sensible of



himself were transferred for the rest of the day to Miss "ucas, whosecivility in listening to him was a seasonable relief to them all, andespecially to her friend.

#he morrow produced no abatement of Mrs. Bennet6s ill%humour or illhealth. Mr. -ollins was also in the same state of angry pride. )li*abethhad hoped that his resentment might shorten his visit, but his plan didnot appear in the least affected by it. e was always to have gone onSaturday, and to Saturday he meant to stay.

After breakfast, the girls walked to Meryton to inquire if Mr. 'ickhamwere returned, and to lament over his absence from the !etherfield ball.e +oined them on their entering the town, and attended them to theiraunt6s where his regret and ve$ation, and the concern of everybody, waswell talked over. #o )li*abeth, however, he voluntarily acknowledgedthat the necessity of his absence 1had1 been self%imposed.

found, said he, as the time drew near that had better not meetMr. &arcy; that to be in the same room, the same party with him for somany hours together, might be more than could bear, and that scenes

might arise unpleasant to more than myself.

She highly approved his forbearance, and they had leisure for a fulldiscussion of it, and for all the commendation which they civillybestowed on each other, as 'ickham and another officer walked back withthem to "ongbourn, and during the walk he particularly attended toher. is accompanying them was a double advantage; she felt all thecompliment it offered to herself, and it was most acceptable as anoccasion of introducing him to her father and mother.

Soon after their return, a letter was delivered to Miss Bennet; it camefrom !etherfield. #he envelope contained a sheet of elegant, little,hot%pressed paper, well covered with a lady6s fair, flowing hand; and)li*abeth saw her sister6s countenance change as she read it, and sawher dwelling intently on some particular passages. 5ane recollectedherself soon, and putting the letter away, tried to +oin with her usualcheerfulness in the general conversation; but )li*abeth felt an an$ietyon the sub+ect which drew off her attention even from 'ickham; and nosooner had he and his companion taken leave, than a glance from 5aneinvited her to follow her up stairs. 'hen they had gained their own room,5ane, taking out the letter, said4

#his is from -aroline Bingley; what it contains has surprised me a gooddeal. #he whole party have left !etherfield by this time, and are ontheir way to town%%and without any intention of coming back again. /oushall hear what she says.

She then read the first sentence aloud, which comprised the informationof their having +ust resolved to follow their brother to town directly,and of their meaning to dine in 9rosvenor Street, where Mr. urst had ahouse. #he ne$t was in these words4 do not pretend to regret anything shall leave in ertfordshire, e$cept your society, my dearest friend;but we will hope, at some future period, to en+oy many returns of thatdelightful intercourse we have known, and in the meanwhile maylessen the pain of separation by a very frequent and most unreservedcorrespondence. depend on you for that. #o these highflowne$pressions )li*abeth listened with all the insensibility of distrust;



and though the suddenness of their removal surprised her, she sawnothing in it really to lament; it was not to be supposed that theirabsence from !etherfield would prevent Mr. Bingley6s being there; and asto the loss of their society, she was persuaded that 5ane must cease toregard it, in the en+oyment of his.

t is unlucky, said she, after a short pause, that you should not beable to see your friends before they leave the country. But may we nothope that the period of future happiness to which Miss Bingley looksforward may arrive earlier than she is aware, and that the delightfulintercourse you have known as friends will be renewed with yet greatersatisfaction as sisters3 Mr. Bingley will not be detained in "ondon bythem.

-aroline decidedly says that none of the party will return intoertfordshire this winter. will read it to you4

'hen my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that the business whichtook him to "ondon might be concluded in three or four days; but as weare certain it cannot be so, and at the same time convinced that when

-harles gets to town he will be in no hurry to leave it again, we havedetermined on following him thither, that he may not be obliged to spendhis vacant hours in a comfortless hotel. Many of my acquaintances arealready there for the winter; wish that could hear that you, mydearest friend, had any intention of making one of the crowd%%but ofthat despair. sincerely hope your -hristmas in ertfordshire mayabound in the gaieties which that season generally brings, and that yourbeau$ will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of thethree of whom we shall deprive you.

t is evident by this, added 5ane, that he comes back no more thiswinter.

t is only evident that Miss Bingley does not mean that he 1should1.

'hy will you think so3 t must be his own doing. e is his ownmaster. But you do not know 1all1. 1will1 read you the passage whichparticularly hurts me. will have no reserves from 1you1.

Mr. &arcy is impatient to see his sister; and, to confess the truth,1we1 are scarcely less eager to meet her again. really do not think9eorgiana &arcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments;and the affection she inspires in "ouisa and myself is heightened intosomething still more interesting, from the hope we dare entertain ofher being hereafter our sister. do not know whether ever beforementioned to you my feelings on this sub+ect; but will not leave thecountry without confiding them, and trust you will not esteem them

unreasonable. My brother admires her greatly already; he will havefrequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing;her relations all wish the connection as much as his own; and a sister6spartiality is not misleading me, think, when call -harles mostcapable of engaging any woman6s heart. 'ith all these circumstances tofavour an attachment, and nothing to prevent it, am wrong, my dearest5ane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happinessof so many3

'hat do you think of 1this1 sentence, my dear "i**y3 said 5ane as she



finished it. s it not clear enough3 &oes it not e$pressly declare that-aroline neither e$pects nor wishes me to be her sister; that she isperfectly convinced of her brother6s indifference; and that if shesuspects the nature of my feelings for him, she means Hmost kindly(I toput me on my guard3 -an there be any other opinion on the sub+ect3

/es, there can; for mine is totally different. 'ill you hear it3

Most willingly.

/ou shall have it in a few words. Miss Bingley sees that her brother isin love with you, and wants him to marry Miss &arcy. She follows himto town in hope of keeping him there, and tries to persuade you that hedoes not care about you.

5ane shook her head.

ndeed, 5ane, you ought to believe me. !o one who has ever seen youtogether can doubt his affection. Miss Bingley, am sure, cannot. Sheis not such a simpleton. -ould she have seen half as much love in Mr.

&arcy for herself, she would have ordered her wedding clothes. But thecase is this4 'e are not rich enough or grand enough for them; and sheis the more an$ious to get Miss &arcy for her brother, from the notionthat when there has been 1one1 intermarriage, she may have less troublein achieving a second; in which there is certainly some ingenuity, and dare say it would succeed, if Miss de Bourgh were out of the way. But,my dearest 5ane, you cannot seriously imagine that because Miss Bingleytells you her brother greatly admires Miss &arcy, he is in the smallestdegree less sensible of 1your1 merit than when he took leave of you on#uesday, or that it will be in her power to persuade him that, insteadof being in love with you, he is very much in love with her friend.

f we thought alike of Miss Bingley, replied 5ane, yourrepresentation of all this might make me quite easy. But know thefoundation is un+ust. -aroline is incapable of wilfully deceivinganyone; and all that can hope in this case is that she is deceivingherself.

#hat is right. /ou could not have started a more happy idea, since youwill not take comfort in mine. Believe her to be deceived, by all means./ou have now done your duty by her, and must fret no longer.

But, my dear sister, can be happy, even supposing the best, inaccepting a man whose sisters and friends are all wishing him to marryelsewhere3

/ou must decide for yourself, said )li*abeth; and if, upon mature

deliberation, you find that the misery of disobliging his two sisters ismore than equivalent to the happiness of being his wife, advise you byall means to refuse him.

ow can you talk so3 said 5ane, faintly smiling. /ou must know thatthough should be e$ceedingly grieved at their disapprobation, couldnot hesitate.

did not think you would; and that being the case, cannot consideryour situation with much compassion.



But if he returns no more this winter, my choice will never berequired. A thousand things may arise in si$ months(

#he idea of his returning no more )li*abeth treated with the utmostcontempt. t appeared to her merely the suggestion of -aroline6sinterested wishes, and she could not for a moment suppose that thosewishes, however openly or artfully spoken, could influence a young manso totally independent of everyone.

She represented to her sister as forcibly as possible what she felton the sub+ect, and had soon the pleasure of seeing its happy effect.5ane6s temper was not desponding, and she was gradually led to hope,though the diffidence of affection sometimes overcame the hope, thatBingley would return to !etherfield and answer every wish of her heart.

#hey agreed that Mrs. Bennet should only hear of the departure of thefamily, without being alarmed on the score of the gentleman6s conduct;but even this partial communication gave her a great deal of concern,and she bewailed it as e$ceedingly unlucky that the ladies should happen

to go away +ust as they were all getting so intimate together. Afterlamenting it, however, at some length, she had the consolation that Mr.Bingley would be soon down again and soon dining at "ongbourn, and theconclusion of all was the comfortable declaration, that though he hadbeen invited only to a family dinner, she would take care to have twofull courses.

-hapter FF

#he Bennets were engaged to dine with the "ucases and again during thechief of the day was Miss "ucas so kind as to listen to Mr. -ollins.)li*abeth took an opportunity of thanking her. t keeps him in goodhumour, said she, and am more obliged to you than can e$press.-harlotte assured her friend of her satisfaction in being useful, andthat it amply repaid her for the little sacrifice of her time. #his wasvery amiable, but -harlotte6s kindness e$tended farther than )li*abethhad any conception of; its ob+ect was nothing else than to secure herfrom any return of Mr. -ollins6s addresses, by engaging them towardsherself. Such was Miss "ucas6s scheme; and appearances were sofavourable, that when they parted at night, she would have felt almostsecure of success if he had not been to leave ertfordshire so verysoon. But here she did in+ustice to the fire and independence of hischaracter, for it led him to escape out of "ongbourn ouse the ne$tmorning with admirable slyness, and hasten to "ucas "odge to throw

himself at her feet. e was an$ious to avoid the notice of his cousins,from a conviction that if they saw him depart, they could not fail tocon+ecture his design, and he was not willing to have the attempt knowntill its success might be known likewise; for though feeling almostsecure, and with reason, for -harlotte had been tolerably encouraging,he was comparatively diffident since the adventure of 'ednesday.is reception, however, was of the most flattering kind. Miss "ucasperceived him from an upper window as he walked towards the house, andinstantly set out to meet him accidentally in the lane. But little hadshe dared to hope that so much love and eloquence awaited her there.



n as short a time as Mr. -ollins6s long speeches would allow,everything was settled between them to the satisfaction of both; and asthey entered the house he earnestly entreated her to name the day thatwas to make him the happiest of men; and though such a solicitation mustbe waived for the present, the lady felt no inclination to trifle withhis happiness. #he stupidity with which he was favoured by nature mustguard his courtship from any charm that could make a woman wish for itscontinuance; and Miss "ucas, who accepted him solely from the pureand disinterested desire of an establishment, cared not how soon thatestablishment were gained.

Sir 'illiam and "ady "ucas were speedily applied to for their consent;and it was bestowed with a most +oyful alacrity. Mr. -ollins6s presentcircumstances made it a most eligible match for their daughter, to whomthey could give little fortune; and his prospects of future wealth weree$ceedingly fair. "ady "ucas began directly to calculate, with moreinterest than the matter had ever e$cited before, how many years longerMr. Bennet was likely to live; and Sir 'illiam gave it as his decidedopinion, that whenever Mr. -ollins should be in possession of the

"ongbourn estate, it would be highly e$pedient that both he and his wifeshould make their appearance at St. 5ames6s. #he whole family, in short,were properly over+oyed on the occasion. #he younger girls formed hopesof 1coming out1 a year or two sooner than they might otherwise havedone; and the boys were relieved from their apprehension of -harlotte6sdying an old maid. -harlotte herself was tolerably composed. She hadgained her point, and had time to consider of it. er reflections werein general satisfactory. Mr. -ollins, to be sure, was neither sensiblenor agreeable; his society was irksome, and his attachment to her mustbe imaginary. But still he would be her husband. 'ithout thinking highlyeither of men or matrimony, marriage had always been her ob+ect; it wasthe only provision for well%educated young women of small fortune,and however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their pleasantestpreservative from want. #his preservative she had now obtained; and atthe age of twenty%seven, without having ever been handsome, she felt allthe good luck of it. #he least agreeable circumstance in the businesswas the surprise it must occasion to )li*abeth Bennet, whose friendshipshe valued beyond that of any other person. )li*abeth would wonder,and probably would blame her; and though her resolution was not to beshaken, her feelings must be hurt by such a disapprobation. She resolvedto give her the information herself, and therefore charged Mr. -ollins,when he returned to "ongbourn to dinner, to drop no hint of what hadpassed before any of the family. A promise of secrecy was of course verydutifully given, but it could not be kept without difficulty; for thecuriosity e$cited by his long absence burst forth in such very directquestions on his return as required some ingenuity to evade, and he wasat the same time e$ercising great self%denial, for he was longing to

publish his prosperous love.

As he was to begin his +ourney too early on the morrow to see any of thefamily, the ceremony of leave%taking was performed when the ladies movedfor the night; and Mrs. Bennet, with great politeness and cordiality,said how happy they should be to see him at "ongbourn again, wheneverhis engagements might allow him to visit them.

My dear madam, he replied, this invitation is particularlygratifying, because it is what have been hoping to receive; and



you may be very certain that shall avail myself of it as soon aspossible.

#hey were all astonished; and Mr. Bennet, who could by no means wish forso speedy a return, immediately said4

But is there not danger of "ady -atherine6s disapprobation here, mygood sir3 /ou had better neglect your relations than run the risk ofoffending your patroness.

My dear sir, replied Mr. -ollins, am particularly obliged to youfor this friendly caution, and you may depend upon my not taking somaterial a step without her ladyship6s concurrence.

/ou cannot be too much upon your guard. <isk anything rather than herdispleasure; and if you find it likely to be raised by your coming to usagain, which should think e$ceedingly probable, stay quietly at home,and be satisfied that 1we1 shall take no offence.

Believe me, my dear sir, my gratitude is warmly e$cited by such

affectionate attention; and depend upon it, you will speedily receivefrom me a letter of thanks for this, and for every other mark of yourregard during my stay in ertfordshire. As for my fair cousins, thoughmy absence may not be long enough to render it necessary, shall nowtake the liberty of wishing them health and happiness, not e$cepting mycousin )li*abeth.

'ith proper civilities the ladies then withdrew; all of them equallysurprised that he meditated a quick return. Mrs. Bennet wished tounderstand by it that he thought of paying his addresses to one of heryounger girls, and Mary might have been prevailed on to accept him.She rated his abilities much higher than any of the others; there wasa solidity in his reflections which often struck her, and though by nomeans so clever as herself, she thought that if encouraged to readand improve himself by such an e$ample as hers, he might become a veryagreeable companion. But on the following morning, every hope of thiskind was done away. Miss "ucas called soon after breakfast, and in aprivate conference with )li*abeth related the event of the day before.

#he possibility of Mr. -ollins6s fancying himself in love with herfriend had once occurred to )li*abeth within the last day or two; butthat -harlotte could encourage him seemed almost as far frompossibility as she could encourage him herself, and her astonishment wasconsequently so great as to overcome at first the bounds of decorum, andshe could not help crying out4

)ngaged to Mr. -ollins( My dear -harlotte%%impossible(

#he steady countenance which Miss "ucas had commanded in telling herstory, gave way to a momentary confusion here on receiving so direct areproach; though, as it was no more than she e$pected, she soon regainedher composure, and calmly replied4

'hy should you be surprised, my dear )li*a3 &o you think it incrediblethat Mr. -ollins should be able to procure any woman6s good opinion,because he was not so happy as to succeed with you3



But )li*abeth had now recollected herself, and making a strong effortfor it, was able to assure with tolerable firmness that the prospect oftheir relationship was highly grateful to her, and that she wished herall imaginable happiness.

see what you are feeling, replied -harlotte. /ou must be surprised,very much surprised%%so lately as Mr. -ollins was wishing to marryyou. But when you have had time to think it over, hope you will besatisfied with what have done. am not romantic, you know; neverwas. ask only a comfortable home; and considering Mr. -ollins6scharacter, connection, and situation in life, am convinced that mychance of happiness with him is as fair as most people can boast onentering the marriage state.

)li*abeth quietly answered 0ndoubtedly; and after an awkward pause,they returned to the rest of the family. -harlotte did not stay muchlonger, and )li*abeth was then left to reflect on what she had heard.t was a long time before she became at all reconciled to the idea of sounsuitable a match. #he strangeness of Mr. -ollins6s making two offersof marriage within three days was nothing in comparison of his being now

accepted. She had always felt that -harlotte6s opinion of matrimony wasnot e$actly like her own, but she had not supposed it to be possiblethat, when called into action, she would have sacrificed every betterfeeling to worldly advantage. -harlotte the wife of Mr. -ollins was amost humiliating picture( And to the pang of a friend disgracing herselfand sunk in her esteem, was added the distressing conviction that itwas impossible for that friend to be tolerably happy in the lot she hadchosen.

-hapter FG

)li*abeth was sitting with her mother and sisters, reflecting on whatshe had heard, and doubting whether she was authorised to mentionit, when Sir 'illiam "ucas himself appeared, sent by his daughter, toannounce her engagement to the family. 'ith many compliments to them,and much self%gratulation on the prospect of a connection between thehouses, he unfolded the matter%%to an audience not merely wondering, butincredulous; for Mrs. Bennet, with more perseverance than politeness,protested he must be entirely mistaken; and "ydia, always unguarded andoften uncivil, boisterously e$claimed4

9ood "ord( Sir 'illiam, how can you tell such a story3 &o not you knowthat Mr. -ollins wants to marry "i**y3

!othing less than the complaisance of a courtier could have bornewithout anger such treatment; but Sir 'illiam6s good breeding carriedhim through it all; and though he begged leave to be positive as to thetruth of his information, he listened to all their impertinence with themost forbearing courtesy.

)li*abeth, feeling it incumbent on her to relieve him from so unpleasanta situation, now put herself forward to confirm his account, bymentioning her prior knowledge of it from -harlotte herself; andendeavoured to put a stop to the e$clamations of her mother and sisters



by the earnestness of her congratulations to Sir 'illiam, in which shewas readily +oined by 5ane, and by making a variety of remarks on thehappiness that might be e$pected from the match, the e$cellent characterof Mr. -ollins, and the convenient distance of unsford from "ondon.

Mrs. Bennet was in fact too much overpowered to say a great deal whileSir 'illiam remained; but no sooner had he left them than her feelingsfound a rapid vent. n the first place, she persisted in disbelievingthe whole of the matter; secondly, she was very sure that Mr. -ollinshad been taken in; thirdly, she trusted that they would never behappy together; and fourthly, that the match might be broken off. #woinferences, however, were plainly deduced from the whole4 one, that)li*abeth was the real cause of the mischief; and the other that sheherself had been barbarously misused by them all; and on these twopoints she principally dwelt during the rest of the day. !othing couldconsole and nothing could appease her. !or did that day wear out herresentment. A week elapsed before she could see )li*abeth withoutscolding her, a month passed away before she could speak to Sir 'illiamor "ady "ucas without being rude, and many months were gone before shecould at all forgive their daughter.

Mr. Bennet6s emotions were much more tranquil on the occasion, and suchas he did e$perience he pronounced to be of a most agreeable sort; forit gratified him, he said, to discover that -harlotte "ucas, whom he hadbeen used to think tolerably sensible, was as foolish as his wife, andmore foolish than his daughter(

5ane confessed herself a little surprised at the match; but she saidless of her astonishment than of her earnest desire for their happiness;nor could )li*abeth persuade her to consider it as improbable. 8ittyand "ydia were far from envying Miss "ucas, for Mr. -ollins was only aclergyman; and it affected them in no other way than as a piece of newsto spread at Meryton.

"ady "ucas could not be insensible of triumph on being able to retorton Mrs. Bennet the comfort of having a daughter well married; and shecalled at "ongbourn rather oftener than usual to say how happy she was,though Mrs. Bennet6s sour looks and ill%natured remarks might have beenenough to drive happiness away.

Between )li*abeth and -harlotte there was a restraint which kept themmutually silent on the sub+ect; and )li*abeth felt persuaded thatno real confidence could ever subsist between them again. erdisappointment in -harlotte made her turn with fonder regard to hersister, of whose rectitude and delicacy she was sure her opinion couldnever be shaken, and for whose happiness she grew daily more an$ious,as Bingley had now been gone a week and nothing more was heard of his

return.

5ane had sent -aroline an early answer to her letter, and was countingthe days till she might reasonably hope to hear again. #he promisedletter of thanks from Mr. -ollins arrived on #uesday, addressed totheir father, and written with all the solemnity of gratitude which atwelvemonth6s abode in the family might have prompted. After discharginghis conscience on that head, he proceeded to inform them, with manyrapturous e$pressions, of his happiness in having obtained the affectionof their amiable neighbour, Miss "ucas, and then e$plained that it was



merely with the view of en+oying her society that he had been so readyto close with their kind wish of seeing him again at "ongbourn, whitherhe hoped to be able to return on Monday fortnight; for "ady -atherine,he added, so heartily approved his marriage, that she wished it to takeplace as soon as possible, which he trusted would be an unanswerableargument with his amiable -harlotte to name an early day for making himthe happiest of men.

Mr. -ollins6s return into ertfordshire was no longer a matter ofpleasure to Mrs. Bennet. 2n the contrary, she was as much disposed tocomplain of it as her husband. t was very strange that he should cometo "ongbourn instead of to "ucas "odge; it was also very inconvenientand e$ceedingly troublesome. She hated having visitors in the housewhile her health was so indifferent, and lovers were of all people themost disagreeable. Such were the gentle murmurs of Mrs. Bennet, andthey gave way only to the greater distress of Mr. Bingley6s continuedabsence.

!either 5ane nor )li*abeth were comfortable on this sub+ect. &ay afterday passed away without bringing any other tidings of him than the

report which shortly prevailed in Meryton of his coming no more to!etherfield the whole winter; a report which highly incensed Mrs.Bennet, and which she never failed to contradict as a most scandalousfalsehood.

)ven )li*abeth began to fear%%not that Bingley was indifferent%%but thathis sisters would be successful in keeping him away. 0nwilling asshe was to admit an idea so destructive of 5ane6s happiness, and sodishonorable to the stability of her lover, she could not prevent itsfrequently occurring. #he united efforts of his two unfeeling sistersand of his overpowering friend, assisted by the attractions of Miss&arcy and the amusements of "ondon might be too much, she feared, forthe strength of his attachment.

As for 5ane, 1her1 an$iety under this suspense was, of course, morepainful than )li*abeth6s, but whatever she felt she was desirous ofconcealing, and between herself and )li*abeth, therefore, the sub+ectwas never alluded to. But as no such delicacy restrained her mother,an hour seldom passed in which she did not talk of Bingley, e$press herimpatience for his arrival, or even require 5ane to confess that if hedid not come back she would think herself very ill used. t neededall 5ane6s steady mildness to bear these attacks with tolerabletranquillity.

Mr. -ollins returned most punctually on Monday fortnight, but hisreception at "ongbourn was not quite so gracious as it had been on hisfirst introduction. e was too happy, however, to need much attention;

and luckily for the others, the business of love%making relieved themfrom a great deal of his company. #he chief of every day was spent byhim at "ucas "odge, and he sometimes returned to "ongbourn only in timeto make an apology for his absence before the family went to bed.

Mrs. Bennet was really in a most pitiable state. #he very mention ofanything concerning the match threw her into an agony of ill%humour,and wherever she went she was sure of hearing it talked of. #he sightof Miss "ucas was odious to her. As her successor in that house, sheregarded her with +ealous abhorrence. 'henever -harlotte came to see



them, she concluded her to be anticipating the hour of possession; andwhenever she spoke in a low voice to Mr. -ollins, was convinced thatthey were talking of the "ongbourn estate, and resolving to turn herselfand her daughters out of the house, as soon as Mr. Bennet were dead. Shecomplained bitterly of all this to her husband.

ndeed, Mr. Bennet, said she, it is very hard to think that -harlotte"ucas should ever be mistress of this house, that should be forced tomake way for 1her1, and live to see her take her place in it(

My dear, do not give way to such gloomy thoughts. "et us hope forbetter things. "et us flatter ourselves that may be the survivor.

#his was not very consoling to Mrs. Bennet, and therefore, instead ofmaking any answer, she went on as before.

cannot bear to think that they should have all this estate. f it wasnot for the entail, should not mind it.

'hat should not you mind3

should not mind anything at all.

"et us be thankful that you are preserved from a state of suchinsensibility.

never can be thankful, Mr. Bennet, for anything about the entail. owanyone could have the conscience to entail away an estate from one6s owndaughters, cannot understand; and all for the sake of Mr. -ollins too('hy should 1he1 have it more than anybody else3

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

-hapter F:

Miss Bingley6s letter arrived, and put an end to doubt. #he very firstsentence conveyed the assurance of their being all settled in "ondon forthe winter, and concluded with her brother6s regret at not having hadtime to pay his respects to his friends in ertfordshire before he leftthe country.

ope was over, entirely over; and when 5ane could attend to the restof the letter, she found little, e$cept the professed affection of thewriter, that could give her any comfort. Miss &arcy6s praise occupied

the chief of it. er many attractions were again dwelt on, and -arolineboasted +oyfully of their increasing intimacy, and ventured to predictthe accomplishment of the wishes which had been unfolded in her formerletter. She wrote also with great pleasure of her brother6s being aninmate of Mr. &arcy6s house, and mentioned with raptures some plans ofthe latter with regard to new furniture.

)li*abeth, to whom 5ane very soon communicated the chief of all this,heard it in silent indignation. er heart was divided between concernfor her sister, and resentment against all others. #o -aroline6s



assertion of her brother6s being partial to Miss &arcy she paid nocredit. #hat he was really fond of 5ane, she doubted no more than shehad ever done; and much as she had always been disposed to like him, shecould not think without anger, hardly without contempt, on that easinessof temper, that want of proper resolution, which now made him the slaveof his designing friends, and led him to sacrifice of his own happinessto the caprice of their inclination. ad his own happiness, however,been the only sacrifice, he might have been allowed to sport with it inwhatever manner he thought best, but her sister6s was involved in it, asshe thought he must be sensible himself. t was a sub+ect, in short,on which reflection would be long indulged, and must be unavailing. Shecould think of nothing else; and yet whether Bingley6s regard had reallydied away, or were suppressed by his friends6 interference; whetherhe had been aware of 5ane6s attachment, or whether it had escaped hisobservation; whatever were the case, though her opinion of him must bematerially affected by the difference, her sister6s situation remainedthe same, her peace equally wounded.

A day or two passed before 5ane had courage to speak of her feelings to)li*abeth; but at last, on Mrs. Bennet6s leaving them together, after a

longer irritation than usual about !etherfield and its master, she couldnot help saying4

2h, that my dear mother had more command over herself( She can have noidea of the pain she gives me by her continual reflections on him. But will not repine. t cannot last long. e will be forgot, and we shallall be as we were before.

)li*abeth looked at her sister with incredulous solicitude, but saidnothing.

/ou doubt me, cried 5ane, slightly colouring; indeed, you haveno reason. e may live in my memory as the most amiable man of myacquaintance, but that is all. have nothing either to hope or fear,and nothing to reproach him with. #hank 9od( have not 1that1 pain. Alittle time, therefore%% shall certainly try to get the better.

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

My dear 5ane( e$claimed )li*abeth, you are too good. /our sweetnessand disinterestedness are really angelic; do not know what to sayto you. feel as if had never done you +ustice, or loved you as youdeserve.

Miss Bennet eagerly disclaimed all e$traordinary merit, and threw back

the praise on her sister6s warm affection.

!ay, said )li*abeth, this is not fair. 1/ou1 wish to think all theworld respectable, and are hurt if speak ill of anybody. only wantto think 1you1 perfect, and you set yourself against it. &o notbe afraid of my running into any e$cess, of my encroaching on yourprivilege of universal good%will. /ou need not. #here are few peoplewhom really love, and still fewer of whom think well. #he more seeof the world, the more am dissatisfied with it; and every day confirmsmy belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the



little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit orsense. have met with two instances lately, one will not mention; theother is -harlotte6s marriage. t is unaccountable( n every view it isunaccountable(

My dear "i**y, do not give way to such feelings as these. #hey willruin your happiness. /ou do not make allowance enough for differenceof situation and temper. -onsider Mr. -ollins6s respectability, and-harlotte6s steady, prudent character. <emember that she is one of alarge family; that as to fortune, it is a most eligible match; and beready to believe, for everybody6s sake, that she may feel something likeregard and esteem for our cousin.

#o oblige you, would try to believe almost anything, but no one elsecould be benefited by such a belief as this; for were persuaded that-harlotte had any regard for him, should only think worse of herunderstanding than now do of her heart. My dear 5ane, Mr. -ollins is aconceited, pompous, narrow%minded, silly man; you know he is, as well as do; and you must feel, as well as do, that the woman who married himcannot have a proper way of thinking. /ou shall not defend her, though

it is -harlotte "ucas. /ou shall not, for the sake of one individual,change the meaning of principle and integrity, nor endeavour to persuadeyourself or me, that selfishness is prudence, and insensibility ofdanger security for happiness.

must think your language too strong in speaking of both, replied5ane; and hope you will be convinced of it by seeing them happytogether. But enough of this. /ou alluded to something else. /oumentioned 1two1 instances. cannot misunderstand you, but entreatyou, dear "i**y, not to pain me by thinking 1that person1 to blame, andsaying your opinion of him is sunk. 'e must not be so ready to fancyourselves intentionally in+ured. 'e must not e$pect a lively young manto be always so guarded and circumspect. t is very often nothing butour own vanity that deceives us. 'omen fancy admiration means more thanit does.

And men take care that they should.

f it is designedly done, they cannot be +ustified; but have no ideaof there being so much design in the world as some persons imagine.

am far from attributing any part of Mr. Bingley6s conduct to design,said )li*abeth; but without scheming to do wrong, or to make othersunhappy, there may be error, and there may be misery. #houghtlessness,want of attention to other people6s feelings, and want of resolution,will do the business.

And do you impute it to either of those3

/es; to the last. But if go on, shall displease you by saying what think of persons you esteem. Stop me whilst you can.

/ou persist, then, in supposing his sisters influence him3

/es, in con+unction with his friend.

cannot believe it. 'hy should they try to influence him3 #hey can



only wish his happiness; and if he is attached to me, no other woman cansecure it.

/our first position is false. #hey may wish many things besides hishappiness; they may wish his increase of wealth and consequence; theymay wish him to marry a girl who has all the importance of money, greatconnections, and pride.

Beyond a doubt, they 1do1 wish him to choose Miss &arcy, replied 5ane;but this may be from better feelings than you are supposing. #hey haveknown her much longer than they have known me; no wonder if they loveher better. But, whatever may be their own wishes, it is very unlikelythey should have opposed their brother6s. 'hat sister would thinkherself at liberty to do it, unless there were something veryob+ectionable3 f they believed him attached to me, they would not tryto part us; if he were so, they could not succeed. By supposing such anaffection, you make everybody acting unnaturally and wrong, and me mostunhappy. &o not distress me by the idea. am not ashamed of having beenmistaken%%or, at least, it is light, it is nothing in comparison of what should feel in thinking ill of him or his sisters. "et me take it in

the best light, in the light in which it may be understood.

)li*abeth could not oppose such a wish; and from this time Mr. Bingley6sname was scarcely ever mentioned between them.

Mrs. Bennet still continued to wonder and repine at his returning nomore, and though a day seldom passed in which )li*abeth did not accountfor it clearly, there was little chance of her ever considering it withless perple$ity. er daughter endeavoured to convince her of what shedid not believe herself, that his attentions to 5ane had been merely theeffect of a common and transient liking, which ceased when he saw herno more; but though the probability of the statement was admitted atthe time, she had the same story to repeat every day. Mrs. Bennet6s bestcomfort was that Mr. Bingley must be down again in the summer.

Mr. Bennet treated the matter differently. So, "i**y, said he one day,your sister is crossed in love, find. congratulate her. !e$t tobeing married, a girl likes to be crossed a little in love now and then.t is something to think of, and it gives her a sort of distinctionamong her companions. 'hen is your turn to come3 /ou will hardly bear tobe long outdone by 5ane. !ow is your time. ere are officers enough inMeryton to disappoint all the young ladies in the country. "et 'ickhambe 1your1 man. e is a pleasant fellow, and would +ilt you creditably.

#hank you, sir, but a less agreeable man would satisfy me. 'e must notall e$pect 5ane6s good fortune.

#rue, said Mr. Bennet, but it is a comfort to think that whatever ofthat kind may befall you, you have an affectionate mother who will makethe most of it.

Mr. 'ickham6s society was of material service in dispelling the gloomwhich the late perverse occurrences had thrown on many of the "ongbournfamily. #hey saw him often, and to his other recommendations was nowadded that of general unreserve. #he whole of what )li*abeth had alreadyheard, his claims on Mr. &arcy, and all that he had suffered from him,was now openly acknowledged and publicly canvassed; and everybody was



pleased to know how much they had always disliked Mr. &arcy before theyhad known anything of the matter.

Miss Bennet was the only creature who could suppose there might beany e$tenuating circumstances in the case, unknown to the societyof ertfordshire; her mild and steady candour always pleaded forallowances, and urged the possibility of mistakes%%but by everybody elseMr. &arcy was condemned as the worst of men.

-hapter F

After a week spent in professions of love and schemes of felicity,Mr. -ollins was called from his amiable -harlotte by the arrival ofSaturday. #he pain of separation, however, might be alleviated on hisside, by preparations for the reception of his bride; as he had reasonto hope, that shortly after his return into ertfordshire, the day wouldbe fi$ed that was to make him the happiest of men. e took leave of his

relations at "ongbourn with as much solemnity as before; wished his faircousins health and happiness again, and promised their father anotherletter of thanks.

2n the following Monday, Mrs. Bennet had the pleasure of receivingher brother and his wife, who came as usual to spend the -hristmasat "ongbourn. Mr. 9ardiner was a sensible, gentlemanlike man, greatlysuperior to his sister, as well by nature as education. #he !etherfieldladies would have had difficulty in believing that a man who livedby trade, and within view of his own warehouses, could have been sowell%bred and agreeable. Mrs. 9ardiner, who was several years youngerthan Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. =hillips, was an amiable, intelligent, elegantwoman, and a great favourite with all her "ongbourn nieces. Between thetwo eldest and herself especially, there subsisted a particular regard.#hey had frequently been staying with her in town.

#he first part of Mrs. 9ardiner6s business on her arrival was todistribute her presents and describe the newest fashions. 'hen this wasdone she had a less active part to play. t became her turn to listen.Mrs. Bennet had many grievances to relate, and much to complain of. #heyhad all been very ill%used since she last saw her sister. #wo of hergirls had been upon the point of marriage, and after all there wasnothing in it.

do not blame 5ane, she continued, for 5ane would have got Mr.Bingley if she could. But "i**y( 2h, sister( t is very hard to thinkthat she might have been Mr. -ollins6s wife by this time, had it not

been for her own perverseness. e made her an offer in this very room,and she refused him. #he consequence of it is, that "ady "ucas will havea daughter married before have, and that the "ongbourn estate is +ustas much entailed as ever. #he "ucases are very artful people indeed,sister. #hey are all for what they can get. am sorry to say it ofthem, but so it is. t makes me very nervous and poorly, to be thwartedso in my own family, and to have neighbours who think of themselvesbefore anybody else. owever, your coming +ust at this time is thegreatest of comforts, and am very glad to hear what you tell us, oflong sleeves.



So much the better. hope they will not meet at all. But does not 5anecorrespond with his sister3 1She1 will not be able to help calling.

She will drop the acquaintance entirely.

But in spite of the certainty in which )li*abeth affected to place thispoint, as well as the still more interesting one of Bingley6s beingwithheld from seeing 5ane, she felt a solicitude on the sub+ect whichconvinced her, on e$amination, that she did not consider it entirelyhopeless. t was possible, and sometimes she thought it probable, thathis affection might be reanimated, and the influence of his friendssuccessfully combated by the more natural influence of 5ane6sattractions.

Miss Bennet accepted her aunt6s invitation with pleasure; and theBingleys were no otherwise in her thoughts at the same time, than as shehoped by -aroline6s not living in the same house with her brother,she might occasionally spend a morning with her, without any danger ofseeing him.

#he 9ardiners stayed a week at "ongbourn; and what with the =hillipses,the "ucases, and the officers, there was not a day without itsengagement. Mrs. Bennet had so carefully provided for the entertainmentof her brother and sister, that they did not once sit down to a familydinner. 'hen the engagement was for home, some of the officers alwaysmade part of it%%of which officers Mr. 'ickham was sure to be one; andon these occasions, Mrs. 9ardiner, rendered suspicious by )li*abeth6swarm commendation, narrowly observed them both. 'ithout supposing them,from what she saw, to be very seriously in love, their preferenceof each other was plain enough to make her a little uneasy; andshe resolved to speak to )li*abeth on the sub+ect before she leftertfordshire, and represent to her the imprudence of encouraging suchan attachment.

#o Mrs. 9ardiner, 'ickham had one means of affording pleasure,unconnected with his general powers. About ten or a do*en years ago,before her marriage, she had spent a considerable time in that verypart of &erbyshire to which he belonged. #hey had, therefore, manyacquaintances in common; and though 'ickham had been little there sincethe death of &arcy6s father, it was yet in his power to give her fresherintelligence of her former friends than she had been in the way ofprocuring.

Mrs. 9ardiner had seen =emberley, and known the late Mr. &arcy bycharacter perfectly well. ere consequently was an ine$haustible sub+ectof discourse. n comparing her recollection of =emberley with the minutedescription which 'ickham could give, and in bestowing her tribute of

praise on the character of its late possessor, she was delighting bothhim and herself. 2n being made acquainted with the present Mr. &arcy6streatment of him, she tried to remember some of that gentleman6sreputed disposition when quite a lad which might agree with it, andwas confident at last that she recollected having heard Mr. 7it*william&arcy formerly spoken of as a very proud, ill%natured boy.

-hapter F?



Mrs. 9ardiner6s caution to )li*abeth was punctually and kindly givenon the first favourable opportunity of speaking to her alone; afterhonestly telling her what she thought, she thus went on4

/ou are too sensible a girl, "i**y, to fall in love merely becauseyou are warned against it; and, therefore, am not afraid of speakingopenly. Seriously, would have you be on your guard. &o not involveyourself or endeavour to involve him in an affection which the wantof fortune would make so very imprudent. have nothing to say against1him1; he is a most interesting young man; and if he had the fortune heought to have, should think you could not do better. But as it is, youmust not let your fancy run away with you. /ou have sense, and we alle$pect you to use it. /our father would depend on 1your1 resolution andgood conduct, am sure. /ou must not disappoint your father.

My dear aunt, this is being serious indeed.

/es, and hope to engage you to be serious likewise.

'ell, then, you need not be under any alarm. will take care ofmyself, and of Mr. 'ickham too. e shall not be in love with me, if can prevent it.

)li*abeth, you are not serious now.

beg your pardon, will try again. At present am not in love withMr. 'ickham; no, certainly am not. But he is, beyond all comparison,the most agreeable man ever saw%%and if he becomes really attached tome%% believe it will be better that he should not. see the imprudenceof it. 2h( 1that1 abominable Mr. &arcy( My father6s opinion of me doesme the greatest honour, and should be miserable to forfeit it. Myfather, however, is partial to Mr. 'ickham. n short, my dear aunt, should be very sorry to be the means of making any of you unhappy; butsince we see every day that where there is affection, young peopleare seldom withheld by immediate want of fortune from entering intoengagements with each other, how can promise to be wiser than so manyof my fellow%creatures if am tempted, or how am even to know that itwould be wisdom to resist3 All that can promise you, therefore, is notto be in a hurry. will not be in a hurry to believe myself his firstob+ect. 'hen am in company with him, will not be wishing. n short, will do my best.

=erhaps it will be as well if you discourage his coming here so veryoften. At least, you should not 1remind1 your mother of inviting him.

As did the other day, said )li*abeth with a conscious smile4 verytrue, it will be wise in me to refrain from 1that1. But do not imaginethat he is always here so often. t is on your account that he has beenso frequently invited this week. /ou know my mother6s ideas as to thenecessity of constant company for her friends. But really, and upon myhonour, will try to do what think to be the wisest; and now hopeyou are satisfied.

er aunt assured her that she was, and )li*abeth having thanked her forthe kindness of her hints, they parted; a wonderful instance of advice



being given on such a point, without being resented.

Mr. -ollins returned into ertfordshire soon after it had been quittedby the 9ardiners and 5ane; but as he took up his abode with the "ucases,his arrival was no great inconvenience to Mrs. Bennet. is marriage wasnow fast approaching, and she was at length so far resigned as to thinkit inevitable, and even repeatedly to say, in an ill%natured tone, thatshe 1wished1 they might be happy. #hursday was to be the wedding day,and on 'ednesday Miss "ucas paid her farewell visit; and when sherose to take leave, )li*abeth, ashamed of her mother6s ungracious andreluctant good wishes, and sincerely affected herself, accompanied herout of the room. As they went downstairs together, -harlotte said4

shall depend on hearing from you very often, )li*a.

1#hat1 you certainly shall.

And have another favour to ask you. 'ill you come and see me3

'e shall often meet, hope, in ertfordshire.

am not likely to leave 8ent for some time. =romise me, therefore, tocome to unsford.

)li*abeth could not refuse, though she foresaw little pleasure in thevisit.

My father and Maria are coming to me in March, added -harlotte, and hope you will consent to be of the party. ndeed, )li*a, you will be aswelcome as either of them.

#he wedding took place; the bride and bridegroom set off for 8ent fromthe church door, and everybody had as much to say, or to hear, onthe sub+ect as usual. )li*abeth soon heard from her friend; and theircorrespondence was as regular and frequent as it had ever been; thatit should be equally unreserved was impossible. )li*abeth could neveraddress her without feeling that all the comfort of intimacy was over,and though determined not to slacken as a correspondent, it was for thesake of what had been, rather than what was. -harlotte6s first letterswere received with a good deal of eagerness; there could not but becuriosity to know how she would speak of her new home, how she wouldlike "ady -atherine, and how happy she would dare pronounce herself tobe; though, when the letters were read, )li*abeth felt that -harlottee$pressed herself on every point e$actly as she might have foreseen. Shewrote cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts, and mentioned nothingwhich she could not praise. #he house, furniture, neighbourhood, androads, were all to her taste, and "ady -atherine6s behaviour was most

friendly and obliging. t was Mr. -ollins6s picture of unsford and<osings rationally softened; and )li*abeth perceived that she must waitfor her own visit there to know the rest.

5ane had already written a few lines to her sister to announce theirsafe arrival in "ondon; and when she wrote again, )li*abeth hoped itwould be in her power to say something of the Bingleys.

er impatience for this second letter was as well rewarded as impatiencegenerally is. 5ane had been a week in town without either seeing or



hearing from -aroline. She accounted for it, however, by supposing thather last letter to her friend from "ongbourn had by some accident beenlost.

My aunt, she continued, is going to%morrow into that part of thetown, and shall take the opportunity of calling in 9rosvenor Street.

She wrote again when the visit was paid, and she had seen Miss Bingley. did not think -aroline in spirits, were her words, but she was veryglad to see me, and reproached me for giving her no notice of my comingto "ondon. was right, therefore, my last letter had never reachedher. inquired after their brother, of course. e was well, but so muchengaged with Mr. &arcy that they scarcely ever saw him. found thatMiss &arcy was e$pected to dinner. wish could see her. My visit wasnot long, as -aroline and Mrs. urst were going out. dare say shallsee them soon here.

)li*abeth shook her head over this letter. t convinced her thataccident only could discover to Mr. Bingley her sister6s being in town.

7our weeks passed away, and 5ane saw nothing of him. She endeavoured topersuade herself that she did not regret it; but she could no longer beblind to Miss Bingley6s inattention. After waiting at home every morningfor a fortnight, and inventing every evening a fresh e$cuse for her, thevisitor did at last appear; but the shortness of her stay, and yet more,the alteration of her manner would allow 5ane to deceive herself nolonger. #he letter which she wrote on this occasion to her sister willprove what she felt.

My dearest "i**y will, am sure, be incapable of triumphing in herbetter +udgement, at my e$pense, when confess myself to have beenentirely deceived in Miss Bingley6s regard for me. But, my dear sister,though the event has proved you right, do not think me obstinate if still assert that, considering what her behaviour was, my confidence wasas natural as your suspicion. do not at all comprehend her reason forwishing to be intimate with me; but if the same circumstances were tohappen again, am sure should be deceived again. -aroline did notreturn my visit till yesterday; and not a note, not a line, did receive in the meantime. 'hen she did come, it was very evident thatshe had no pleasure in it; she made a slight, formal apology, for notcalling before, said not a word of wishing to see me again, and wasin every respect so altered a creature, that when she went away wasperfectly resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer. pity,though cannot help blaming her. She was very wrong in singling me outas she did; can safely say that every advance to intimacy began onher side. But pity her, because she must feel that she has been actingwrong, and because am very sure that an$iety for her brother is the

cause of it. need not e$plain myself farther; and though 1we1 knowthis an$iety to be quite needless, yet if she feels it, it will easilyaccount for her behaviour to me; and so deservedly dear as he is tohis sister, whatever an$iety she must feel on his behalf is natural andamiable. cannot but wonder, however, at her having any such fears now,because, if he had at all cared about me, we must have met, long ago.e knows of my being in town, am certain, from something she saidherself; and yet it would seem, by her manner of talking, as if shewanted to persuade herself that he is really partial to Miss &arcy. cannot understand it. f were not afraid of +udging harshly, should



be almost tempted to say that there is a strong appearance of duplicityin all this. But will endeavour to banish every painful thought,and think only of what will make me happy%%your affection, and theinvariable kindness of my dear uncle and aunt. "et me hear from you verysoon. Miss Bingley said something of his never returning to !etherfieldagain, of giving up the house, but not with any certainty. 'e had betternot mention it. am e$tremely glad that you have such pleasant accountsfrom our friends at unsford. =ray go to see them, with Sir 'illiam andMaria. am sure you will be very comfortable there.%%/ours, etc.

#his letter gave )li*abeth some pain; but her spirits returned as sheconsidered that 5ane would no longer be duped, by the sister at least.All e$pectation from the brother was now absolutely over. She would noteven wish for a renewal of his attentions. is character sunk onevery review of it; and as a punishment for him, as well as a possibleadvantage to 5ane, she seriously hoped he might really soon marry Mr.&arcy6s sister, as by 'ickham6s account, she would make him abundantlyregret what he had thrown away.

Mrs. 9ardiner about this time reminded )li*abeth of her promise

concerning that gentleman, and required information; and )li*abethhad such to send as might rather give contentment to her aunt than toherself. is apparent partiality had subsided, his attentions were over,he was the admirer of some one else. )li*abeth was watchful enough tosee it all, but she could see it and write of it without material pain.er heart had been but slightly touched, and her vanity was satisfiedwith believing that 1she1 would have been his only choice, had fortunepermitted it. #he sudden acquisition of ten thousand pounds was the mostremarkable charm of the young lady to whom he was now rendering himselfagreeable; but )li*abeth, less clear%sighted perhaps in this case thanin -harlotte6s, did not quarrel with him for his wish of independence.!othing, on the contrary, could be more natural; and while able tosuppose that it cost him a few struggles to relinquish her, she wasready to allow it a wise and desirable measure for both, and could verysincerely wish him happy.

All this was acknowledged to Mrs. 9ardiner; and after relating thecircumstances, she thus went on4 am now convinced, my dear aunt, that have never been much in love; for had really e$perienced that pureand elevating passion, should at present detest his very name, andwish him all manner of evil. But my feelings are not only cordialtowards 1him1; they are even impartial towards Miss 8ing. cannot findout that hate her at all, or that am in the least unwilling tothink her a very good sort of girl. #here can be no love in all this. Mywatchfulness has been effectual; and though certainly should be a moreinteresting ob+ect to all my acquaintances were distractedly in lovewith him, cannot say that regret my comparative insignificance.

mportance may sometimes be purchased too dearly. 8itty and "ydia takehis defection much more to heart than do. #hey are young in theways of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction thathandsome young men must have something to live on as well as the plain.

-hapter F@



'ith no greater events than these in the "ongbourn family, and otherwisediversified by little beyond the walks to Meryton, sometimes dirty andsometimes cold, did 5anuary and 7ebruary pass away. March was to take)li*abeth to unsford. She had not at first thought very seriously ofgoing thither; but -harlotte, she soon found, was depending on the planand she gradually learned to consider it herself with greater pleasureas well as greater certainty. Absence had increased her desire of seeing-harlotte again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. -ollins. #herewas novelty in the scheme, and as, with such a mother and suchuncompanionable sisters, home could not be faultless, a little changewas not unwelcome for its own sake. #he +ourney would moreover give hera peep at 5ane; and, in short, as the time drew near, she would havebeen very sorry for any delay. )verything, however, went on smoothly,and was finally settled according to -harlotte6s first sketch. She wasto accompany Sir 'illiam and his second daughter. #he improvementof spending a night in "ondon was added in time, and the plan becameperfect as plan could be.

#he only pain was in leaving her father, who would certainly miss her,and who, when it came to the point, so little liked her going, that he

told her to write to him, and almost promised to answer her letter.

#he farewell between herself and Mr. 'ickham was perfectly friendly; onhis side even more. is present pursuit could not make him forget that)li*abeth had been the first to e$cite and to deserve his attention, thefirst to listen and to pity, the first to be admired; and in his mannerof bidding her adieu, wishing her every en+oyment, reminding her ofwhat she was to e$pect in "ady -atherine de Bourgh, and trusting theiropinion of her%%their opinion of everybody%%would always coincide, therewas a solicitude, an interest which she felt must ever attach her tohim with a most sincere regard; and she parted from him convinced that,whether married or single, he must always be her model of the amiableand pleasing.

er fellow%travellers the ne$t day were not of a kind to make herthink him less agreeable. Sir 'illiam "ucas, and his daughter Maria, agood%humoured girl, but as empty%headed as himself, had nothing to saythat could be worth hearing, and were listened to with about as muchdelight as the rattle of the chaise. )li*abeth loved absurdities, butshe had known Sir 'illiam6s too long. e could tell her nothing new ofthe wonders of his presentation and knighthood; and his civilities wereworn out, like his information.

t was a +ourney of only twenty%four miles, and they began it so earlyas to be in 9racechurch Street by noon. As they drove to Mr. 9ardiner6sdoor, 5ane was at a drawing%room window watching their arrival; whenthey entered the passage she was there to welcome them, and )li*abeth,

looking earnestly in her face, was pleased to see it healthful andlovely as ever. 2n the stairs were a troop of little boys and girls,whose eagerness for their cousin6s appearance would not allow them towait in the drawing%room, and whose shyness, as they had not seenher for a twelvemonth, prevented their coming lower. All was +oy andkindness. #he day passed most pleasantly away; the morning in bustle andshopping, and the evening at one of the theatres.

)li*abeth then contrived to sit by her aunt. #heir first ob+ect was hersister; and she was more grieved than astonished to hear, in reply to



her minute inquiries, that though 5ane always struggled to support herspirits, there were periods of de+ection. t was reasonable, however,to hope that they would not continue long. Mrs. 9ardiner gave her theparticulars also of Miss Bingley6s visit in 9racechurch Street, andrepeated conversations occurring at different times between 5ane andherself, which proved that the former had, from her heart, given up theacquaintance.

Mrs. 9ardiner then rallied her niece on 'ickham6s desertion, andcomplimented her on bearing it so well.

But my dear )li*abeth, she added, what sort of girl is Miss 8ing3 should be sorry to think our friend mercenary.

=ray, my dear aunt, what is the difference in matrimonial affairs,between the mercenary and the prudent motive3 'here does discretion end,and avarice begin3 "ast -hristmas you were afraid of his marrying me,because it would be imprudent; and now, because he is trying to geta girl with only ten thousand pounds, you want to find out that he ismercenary.

f you will only tell me what sort of girl Miss 8ing is, shall knowwhat to think.

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

But he paid her not the smallest attention till her grandfather6s deathmade her mistress of this fortune.

!o%%why should he3 f it were not allowable for him to gain 1my1affections because had no money, what occasion could there be formaking love to a girl whom he did not care about, and who was equallypoor3

But there seems an indelicacy in directing his attentions towards herso soon after this event.

A man in distressed circumstances has not time for all those elegantdecorums which other people may observe. f 1she1 does not ob+ect to it,why should 1we13

1er1 not ob+ecting does not +ustify 1him1. t only shows her beingdeficient in something herself%%sense or feeling.

'ell, cried )li*abeth, have it as you choose. 1e1 shall bemercenary, and 1she1 shall be foolish.

!o, "i**y, that is what do 1not1 choose. should be sorry, you know,to think ill of a young man who has lived so long in &erbyshire.

2h( if that is all, have a very poor opinion of young men who live in&erbyshire; and their intimate friends who live in ertfordshire are notmuch better. am sick of them all. #hank eaven( am going to%morrowwhere shall find a man who has not one agreeable quality, who hasneither manner nor sense to recommend him. Stupid men are the only onesworth knowing, after all.



#ake care, "i**y; that speech savours strongly of disappointment.

Before they were separated by the conclusion of the play, she had theune$pected happiness of an invitation to accompany her uncle and aunt ina tour of pleasure which they proposed taking in the summer.

'e have not determined how far it shall carry us, said Mrs. 9ardiner,but, perhaps, to the "akes.

!o scheme could have been more agreeable to )li*abeth, and heracceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful. 2h, my dear,dear aunt, she rapturously cried, what delight( what felicity( /ougive me fresh life and vigour. Adieu to disappointment and spleen. 'hatare young men to rocks and mountains3 2h( what hours of transportwe shall spend( And when we 1do1 return, it shall not be like othertravellers, without being able to give one accurate idea of anything. 'e1will1 know where we have gone%%we 1will1 recollect what we have seen."akes, mountains, and rivers shall not be +umbled together in ourimaginations; nor when we attempt to describe any particular scene,will we begin quarreling about its relative situation. "et 1our1

first effusions be less insupportable than those of the generality oftravellers.

-hapter F

)very ob+ect in the ne$t day6s +ourney was new and interesting to)li*abeth; and her spirits were in a state of en+oyment; for she hadseen her sister looking so well as to banish all fear for her health,and the prospect of her northern tour was a constant source of delight.

'hen they left the high road for the lane to unsford, every eye was insearch of the =arsonage, and every turning e$pected to bring it in view.#he palings of <osings =ark was their boundary on one side. )li*abethsmiled at the recollection of all that she had heard of its inhabitants.

At length the =arsonage was discernible. #he garden sloping to theroad, the house standing in it, the green pales, and the laurel hedge,everything declared they were arriving. Mr. -ollins and -harlotteappeared at the door, and the carriage stopped at the small gate whichled by a short gravel walk to the house, amidst the nods and smiles ofthe whole party. n a moment they were all out of the chaise, re+oicingat the sight of each other. Mrs. -ollins welcomed her friend with theliveliest pleasure, and )li*abeth was more and more satisfied withcoming when she found herself so affectionately received. She saw

instantly that her cousin6s manners were not altered by his marriage;his formal civility was +ust what it had been, and he detained her someminutes at the gate to hear and satisfy his inquiries after all herfamily. #hey were then, with no other delay than his pointing out theneatness of the entrance, taken into the house; and as soon as theywere in the parlour, he welcomed them a second time, with ostentatiousformality to his humble abode, and punctually repeated all his wife6soffers of refreshment.

)li*abeth was prepared to see him in his glory; and she could not help



in fancying that in displaying the good proportion of the room, itsaspect and its furniture, he addressed himself particularly to her,as if wishing to make her feel what she had lost in refusing him. Butthough everything seemed neat and comfortable, she was not able togratify him by any sigh of repentance, and rather looked with wonder ather friend that she could have so cheerful an air with such a companion.'hen Mr. -ollins said anything of which his wife might reasonably beashamed, which certainly was not unseldom, she involuntarily turned hereye on -harlotte. 2nce or twice she could discern a faint blush; butin general -harlotte wisely did not hear. After sitting long enough toadmire every article of furniture in the room, from the sideboard tothe fender, to give an account of their +ourney, and of all that hadhappened in "ondon, Mr. -ollins invited them to take a stroll in thegarden, which was large and well laid out, and to the cultivation ofwhich he attended himself. #o work in this garden was one of his mostrespectable pleasures; and )li*abeth admired the command of countenancewith which -harlotte talked of the healthfulness of the e$ercise, andowned she encouraged it as much as possible. ere, leading the waythrough every walk and cross walk, and scarcely allowing them aninterval to utter the praises he asked for, every view was pointed out

with a minuteness which left beauty entirely behind. e could number thefields in every direction, and could tell how many trees there were inthe most distant clump. But of all the views which his garden, or whichthe country or kingdom could boast, none were to be compared with theprospect of <osings, afforded by an opening in the trees that borderedthe park nearly opposite the front of his house. t was a handsomemodern building, well situated on rising ground.

7rom his garden, Mr. -ollins would have led them round his two meadows;but the ladies, not having shoes to encounter the remains of a whitefrost, turned back; and while Sir 'illiam accompanied him, -harlottetook her sister and friend over the house, e$tremely well pleased,probably, to have the opportunity of showing it without her husband6shelp. t was rather small, but well built and convenient; and everythingwas fitted up and arranged with a neatness and consistency of which)li*abeth gave -harlotte all the credit. 'hen Mr. -ollins could beforgotten, there was really an air of great comfort throughout, and by-harlotte6s evident en+oyment of it, )li*abeth supposed he must be oftenforgotten.

She had already learnt that "ady -atherine was still in the country. twas spoken of again while they were at dinner, when Mr. -ollins +oiningin, observed4

/es, Miss )li*abeth, you will have the honour of seeing "ady -atherinede Bourgh on the ensuing Sunday at church, and need not say you willbe delighted with her. She is all affability and condescension, and

doubt not but you will be honoured with some portion of her noticewhen service is over. have scarcely any hesitation in saying shewill include you and my sister Maria in every invitation with which shehonours us during your stay here. er behaviour to my dear -harlotte ischarming. 'e dine at <osings twice every week, and are never allowedto walk home. er ladyship6s carriage is regularly ordered for us. 1should1 say, one of her ladyship6s carriages, for she has several.

"ady -atherine is a very respectable, sensible woman indeed, added-harlotte, and a most attentive neighbour.



>ery true, my dear, that is e$actly what say. She is the sort ofwoman whom one cannot regard with too much deference.

#he evening was spent chiefly in talking over ertfordshire news,and telling again what had already been written; and when it closed,)li*abeth, in the solitude of her chamber, had to meditate upon-harlotte6s degree of contentment, to understand her address in guiding,and composure in bearing with, her husband, and to acknowledge that itwas all done very well. She had also to anticipate how her visitwould pass, the quiet tenor of their usual employments, the ve$atiousinterruptions of Mr. -ollins, and the gaieties of their intercourse with<osings. A lively imagination soon settled it all.

About the middle of the ne$t day, as she was in her room getting readyfor a walk, a sudden noise below seemed to speak the whole house inconfusion; and, after listening a moment, she heard somebody runningup stairs in a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her. She openedthe door and met Maria in the landing place, who, breathless withagitation, cried out%%

2h, my dear )li*a( pray make haste and come into the dining%room, forthere is such a sight to be seen( will not tell you what it is. Makehaste, and come down this moment.

)li*abeth asked questions in vain; Maria would tell her nothing more,and down they ran into the dining%room, which fronted the lane, inquest of this wonder; t was two ladies stopping in a low phaeton at thegarden gate.

And is this all3 cried )li*abeth. e$pected at least that the pigswere got into the garden, and here is nothing but "ady -atherine and herdaughter.

"a( my dear, said Maria, quite shocked at the mistake, it is not"ady -atherine. #he old lady is Mrs. 5enkinson, who lives with them;the other is Miss de Bourgh. 2nly look at her. She is quite a littlecreature. 'ho would have thought that she could be so thin and small3

She is abominably rude to keep -harlotte out of doors in all this wind.'hy does she not come in3

2h, -harlotte says she hardly ever does. t is the greatest of favourswhen Miss de Bourgh comes in.

like her appearance, said )li*abeth, struck with other ideas. Shelooks sickly and cross. /es, she will do for him very well. She will

make him a very proper wife.

Mr. -ollins and -harlotte were both standing at the gate in conversationwith the ladies; and Sir 'illiam, to )li*abeth6s high diversion, wasstationed in the doorway, in earnest contemplation of the greatnessbefore him, and constantly bowing whenever Miss de Bourgh looked thatway.

At length there was nothing more to be said; the ladies drove on, andthe others returned into the house. Mr. -ollins no sooner saw the two



girls than he began to congratulate them on their good fortune, which-harlotte e$plained by letting them know that the whole party was askedto dine at <osings the ne$t day.

-hapter FC

Mr. -ollins6s triumph, in consequence of this invitation, was complete.#he power of displaying the grandeur of his patroness to his wonderingvisitors, and of letting them see her civility towards himself and hiswife, was e$actly what he had wished for; and that an opportunityof doing it should be given so soon, was such an instance of "ady-atherine6s condescension, as he knew not how to admire enough.

confess, said he, that should not have been at all surprised byher ladyship6s asking us on Sunday to drink tea and spend the evening at<osings. rather e$pected, from my knowledge of her affability, that itwould happen. But who could have foreseen such an attention as this3 'ho

could have imagined that we should receive an invitation to dine thereHan invitation, moreover, including the whole partyI so immediatelyafter your arrival(

am the less surprised at what has happened, replied Sir 'illiam,from that knowledge of what the manners of the great really are, whichmy situation in life has allowed me to acquire. About the court, suchinstances of elegant breeding are not uncommon.

Scarcely anything was talked of the whole day or ne$t morning but theirvisit to <osings. Mr. -ollins was carefully instructing them in whatthey were to e$pect, that the sight of such rooms, so many servants, andso splendid a dinner, might not wholly overpower them.

'hen the ladies were separating for the toilette, he said to )li*abeth%%

&o not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your apparel. "ady-atherine is far from requiring that elegance of dress in us whichbecomes herself and her daughter. would advise you merely to put onwhatever of your clothes is superior to the rest%%there is no occasionfor anything more. "ady -atherine will not think the worse of youfor being simply dressed. She likes to have the distinction of rankpreserved.

'hile they were dressing, he came two or three times to their differentdoors, to recommend their being quick, as "ady -atherine very muchob+ected to be kept waiting for her dinner. Such formidable accounts of

her ladyship, and her manner of living, quite frightened Maria "ucaswho had been little used to company, and she looked forward to herintroduction at <osings with as much apprehension as her father had doneto his presentation at St. 5ames6s.

As the weather was fine, they had a pleasant walk of about half amile across the park. )very park has its beauty and its prospects; and)li*abeth saw much to be pleased with, though she could not be in suchraptures as Mr. -ollins e$pected the scene to inspire, and was butslightly affected by his enumeration of the windows in front of the



house, and his relation of what the gla*ing altogether had originallycost Sir "ewis de Bourgh.

'hen they ascended the steps to the hall, Maria6s alarm was everymoment increasing, and even Sir 'illiam did not look perfectly calm.)li*abeth6s courage did not fail her. She had heard nothing of "ady-atherine that spoke her awful from any e$traordinary talents ormiraculous virtue, and the mere stateliness of money or rank she thoughtshe could witness without trepidation.

7rom the entrance%hall, of which Mr. -ollins pointed out, with arapturous air, the fine proportion and the finished ornaments, theyfollowed the servants through an ante%chamber, to the room where "ady-atherine, her daughter, and Mrs. 5enkinson were sitting. er ladyship,with great condescension, arose to receive them; and as Mrs. -ollins hadsettled it with her husband that the office of introduction shouldbe hers, it was performed in a proper manner, without any of thoseapologies and thanks which he would have thought necessary.

n spite of having been at St. 5ames6s, Sir 'illiam was so completely

awed by the grandeur surrounding him, that he had but +ust courageenough to make a very low bow, and take his seat without saying a word;and his daughter, frightened almost out of her senses, sat on the edgeof her chair, not knowing which way to look. )li*abeth found herselfquite equal to the scene, and could observe the three ladies before hercomposedly. "ady -atherine was a tall, large woman, with strongly%markedfeatures, which might once have been handsome. er air was notconciliating, nor was her manner of receiving them such as to make hervisitors forget their inferior rank. She was not rendered formidable bysilence; but whatever she said was spoken in so authoritative a tone,as marked her self%importance, and brought Mr. 'ickham immediately to)li*abeth6s mind; and from the observation of the day altogether, shebelieved "ady -atherine to be e$actly what he represented.

'hen, after e$amining the mother, in whose countenance and deportmentshe soon found some resemblance of Mr. &arcy, she turned her eyes on thedaughter, she could almost have +oined in Maria6s astonishment at herbeing so thin and so small. #here was neither in figure nor face anylikeness between the ladies. Miss de Bourgh was pale and sickly; herfeatures, though not plain, were insignificant; and she spoke verylittle, e$cept in a low voice, to Mrs. 5enkinson, in whose appearancethere was nothing remarkable, and who was entirely engaged in listeningto what she said, and placing a screen in the proper direction beforeher eyes.

After sitting a few minutes, they were all sent to one of the windows toadmire the view, Mr. -ollins attending them to point out its beauties,

and "ady -atherine kindly informing them that it was much better worthlooking at in the summer.

#he dinner was e$ceedingly handsome, and there were all the servants andall the articles of plate which Mr. -ollins had promised; and, as he hadlikewise foretold, he took his seat at the bottom of the table, by herladyship6s desire, and looked as if he felt that life could furnishnothing greater. e carved, and ate, and praised with delightedalacrity; and every dish was commended, first by him and then by Sir'illiam, who was now enough recovered to echo whatever his son%in%law



said, in a manner which )li*abeth wondered "ady -atherine could bear.But "ady -atherine seemed gratified by their e$cessive admiration, andgave most gracious smiles, especially when any dish on the table proveda novelty to them. #he party did not supply much conversation. )li*abethwas ready to speak whenever there was an opening, but she was seatedbetween -harlotte and Miss de Bourgh%%the former of whom was engaged inlistening to "ady -atherine, and the latter said not a word to her alldinner%time. Mrs. 5enkinson was chiefly employed in watching how littleMiss de Bourgh ate, pressing her to try some other dish, and fearingshe was indisposed. Maria thought speaking out of the question, and thegentlemen did nothing but eat and admire.

'hen the ladies returned to the drawing%room, there was little tobe done but to hear "ady -atherine talk, which she did without anyintermission till coffee came in, delivering her opinion on everysub+ect in so decisive a manner, as proved that she was not used tohave her +udgement controverted. She inquired into -harlotte6s domesticconcerns familiarly and minutely, gave her a great deal of advice asto the management of them all; told her how everything ought to beregulated in so small a family as hers, and instructed her as to the

care of her cows and her poultry. )li*abeth found that nothing wasbeneath this great lady6s attention, which could furnish her with anoccasion of dictating to others. n the intervals of her discoursewith Mrs. -ollins, she addressed a variety of questions to Maria and)li*abeth, but especially to the latter, of whose connections she knewthe least, and who she observed to Mrs. -ollins was a very genteel,pretty kind of girl. She asked her, at different times, how many sistersshe had, whether they were older or younger than herself, whether any ofthem were likely to be married, whether they were handsome, where theyhad been educated, what carriage her father kept, and what had beenher mother6s maiden name3 )li*abeth felt all the impertinence ofher questions but answered them very composedly. "ady -atherine thenobserved,

/our father6s estate is entailed on Mr. -ollins, think. 7or yoursake, turning to -harlotte, am glad of it; but otherwise see nooccasion for entailing estates from the female line. t was not thoughtnecessary in Sir "ewis de Bourgh6s family. &o you play and sing, MissBennet3

A little.

2h( then%%some time or other we shall be happy to hear you. 2urinstrument is a capital one, probably superior to%%%%/ou shall try itsome day. &o your sisters play and sing3

2ne of them does.

'hy did not you all learn3 /ou ought all to have learned. #he Miss'ebbs all play, and their father has not so good an income as yours. &oyou draw3

!o, not at all.

'hat, none of you3

!ot one.



#hat is very strange. But suppose you had no opportunity. /our mothershould have taken you to town every spring for the benefit of masters.

My mother would have had no ob+ection, but my father hates "ondon.

as your governess left you3

'e never had any governess.

!o governess( ow was that possible3 7ive daughters brought up at homewithout a governess( never heard of such a thing. /our mother musthave been quite a slave to your education.

)li*abeth could hardly help smiling as she assured her that had not beenthe case.

#hen, who taught you3 who attended to you3 'ithout a governess, youmust have been neglected.

-ompared with some families, believe we were; but such of us aswished to learn never wanted the means. 'e were always encouraged toread, and had all the masters that were necessary. #hose who chose to beidle, certainly might.

Aye, no doubt; but that is what a governess will prevent, and if hadknown your mother, should have advised her most strenuously to engageone. always say that nothing is to be done in education without steadyand regular instruction, and nobody but a governess can give it. t iswonderful how many families have been the means of supplying in thatway. am always glad to get a young person well placed out. 7our niecesof Mrs. 5enkinson are most delightfully situated through my means; andit was but the other day that recommended another young person,who was merely accidentally mentioned to me, and the family are quitedelighted with her. Mrs. -ollins, did tell you of "ady Metcalf6scalling yesterday to thank me3 She finds Miss =ope a treasure. 6"ady-atherine,6 said she, 6you have given me a treasure.6 Are any of youryounger sisters out, Miss Bennet3

/es, ma6am, all.

All( 'hat, all five out at once3 >ery odd( And you only the second. #heyounger ones out before the elder ones are married( /our younger sistersmust be very young3

/es, my youngest is not si$teen. =erhaps 1she1 is full young to bemuch in company. But really, ma6am, think it would be very hard upon

younger sisters, that they should not have their share of society andamusement, because the elder may not have the means or inclination tomarry early. #he last%born has as good a right to the pleasures of youthas the first. And to be kept back on 1such1 a motive( think it wouldnot be very likely to promote sisterly affection or delicacy of mind.

0pon my word, said her ladyship, you give your opinion very decidedlyfor so young a person. =ray, what is your age3

'ith three younger sisters grown up, replied )li*abeth, smiling, your



ladyship can hardly e$pect me to own it.

"ady -atherine seemed quite astonished at not receiving a direct answer;and )li*abeth suspected herself to be the first creature who had everdared to trifle with so much dignified impertinence.

/ou cannot be more than twenty, am sure, therefore you need notconceal your age.

am not one%and%twenty.

'hen the gentlemen had +oined them, and tea was over, the card%tableswere placed. "ady -atherine, Sir 'illiam, and Mr. and Mrs. -ollins satdown to quadrille; and as Miss de Bourgh chose to play at cassino, thetwo girls had the honour of assisting Mrs. 5enkinson to make up herparty. #heir table was superlatively stupid. Scarcely a syllable wasuttered that did not relate to the game, e$cept when Mrs. 5enkinsone$pressed her fears of Miss de Bourgh6s being too hot or too cold, orhaving too much or too little light. A great deal more passed at theother table. "ady -atherine was generally speaking%%stating the mistakes

of the three others, or relating some anecdote of herself. Mr. -ollinswas employed in agreeing to everything her ladyship said, thanking herfor every fish he won, and apologising if he thought he won too many.Sir 'illiam did not say much. e was storing his memory with anecdotesand noble names.

'hen "ady -atherine and her daughter had played as long as they chose,the tables were broken up, the carriage was offered to Mrs. -ollins,gratefully accepted and immediately ordered. #he party then gatheredround the fire to hear "ady -atherine determine what weather they wereto have on the morrow. 7rom these instructions they were summoned bythe arrival of the coach; and with many speeches of thankfulness on Mr.-ollins6s side and as many bows on Sir 'illiam6s they departed. As soonas they had driven from the door, )li*abeth was called on by her cousinto give her opinion of all that she had seen at <osings, which, for-harlotte6s sake, she made more favourable than it really was. But hercommendation, though costing her some trouble, could by no means satisfyMr. -ollins, and he was very soon obliged to take her ladyship6s praiseinto his own hands.

-hapter GE

Sir 'illiam stayed only a week at unsford, but his visit was longenough to convince him of his daughter6s being most comfortably settled,

and of her possessing such a husband and such a neighbour as were notoften met with. 'hile Sir 'illiam was with them, Mr. -ollins devoted hismorning to driving him out in his gig, and showing him the country; butwhen he went away, the whole family returned to their usual employments,and )li*abeth was thankful to find that they did not see more of hercousin by the alteration, for the chief of the time between breakfastand dinner was now passed by him either at work in the garden or inreading and writing, and looking out of the window in his own book%room,which fronted the road. #he room in which the ladies sat was backwards.)li*abeth had at first rather wondered that -harlotte should not prefer



the dining%parlour for common use; it was a better si*ed room, and had amore pleasant aspect; but she soon saw that her friend had an e$cellentreason for what she did, for Mr. -ollins would undoubtedly have beenmuch less in his own apartment, had they sat in one equally lively; andshe gave -harlotte credit for the arrangement.

7rom the drawing%room they could distinguish nothing in the lane, andwere indebted to Mr. -ollins for the knowledge of what carriages wentalong, and how often especially Miss de Bourgh drove by in her phaeton,which he never failed coming to inform them of, though it happenedalmost every day. She not unfrequently stopped at the =arsonage, andhad a few minutes6 conversation with -harlotte, but was scarcely everprevailed upon to get out.

>ery few days passed in which Mr. -ollins did not walk to <osings, andnot many in which his wife did not think it necessary to go likewise;and till )li*abeth recollected that there might be other family livingsto be disposed of, she could not understand the sacrifice of so manyhours. !ow and then they were honoured with a call from her ladyship,and nothing escaped her observation that was passing in the room during

these visits. She e$amined into their employments, looked at their work,and advised them to do it differently; found fault with the arrangementof the furniture; or detected the housemaid in negligence; and if sheaccepted any refreshment, seemed to do it only for the sake of findingout that Mrs. -ollins6s +oints of meat were too large for her family.

)li*abeth soon perceived, that though this great lady was not incommission of the peace of the county, she was a most active magistratein her own parish, the minutest concerns of which were carried to herby Mr. -ollins; and whenever any of the cottagers were disposed tobe quarrelsome, discontented, or too poor, she sallied forth into thevillage to settle their differences, silence their complaints, and scoldthem into harmony and plenty.

#he entertainment of dining at <osings was repeated about twice a week;and, allowing for the loss of Sir 'illiam, and there being only onecard%table in the evening, every such entertainment was the counterpartof the first. #heir other engagements were few, as the style of livingin the neighbourhood in general was beyond Mr. -ollins6s reach. #his,however, was no evil to )li*abeth, and upon the whole she spent her timecomfortably enough; there were half%hours of pleasant conversation with-harlotte, and the weather was so fine for the time of year that she hadoften great en+oyment out of doors. er favourite walk, and where shefrequently went while the others were calling on "ady -atherine, wasalong the open grove which edged that side of the park, where there wasa nice sheltered path, which no one seemed to value but herself, andwhere she felt beyond the reach of "ady -atherine6s curiosity.

n this quiet way, the first fortnight of her visit soon passed away.)aster was approaching, and the week preceding it was to bring anaddition to the family at <osings, which in so small a circle must beimportant. )li*abeth had heard soon after her arrival that Mr. &arcy wase$pected there in the course of a few weeks, and though there were notmany of her acquaintances whom she did not prefer, his coming wouldfurnish one comparatively new to look at in their <osings parties, andshe might be amused in seeing how hopeless Miss Bingley6s designs on himwere, by his behaviour to his cousin, for whom he was evidently



destined by "ady -atherine, who talked of his coming with the greatestsatisfaction, spoke of him in terms of the highest admiration, andseemed almost angry to find that he had already been frequently seen byMiss "ucas and herself.

is arrival was soon known at the =arsonage; for Mr. -ollins was walkingthe whole morning within view of the lodges opening into unsford "ane,in order to have the earliest assurance of it, and after making hisbow as the carriage turned into the =ark, hurried home with the greatintelligence. 2n the following morning he hastened to <osings to pay hisrespects. #here were two nephews of "ady -atherine to require them, forMr. &arcy had brought with him a -olonel 7it*william, the younger son ofhis uncle "ord %%%%, and, to the great surprise of all the party, whenMr. -ollins returned, the gentlemen accompanied him. -harlotte had seenthem from her husband6s room, crossing the road, and immediately runninginto the other, told the girls what an honour they might e$pect, adding4

may thank you, )li*a, for this piece of civility. Mr. &arcy wouldnever have come so soon to wait upon me.

)li*abeth had scarcely time to disclaim all right to the compliment,before their approach was announced by the door%bell, and shortlyafterwards the three gentlemen entered the room. -olonel 7it*william,who led the way, was about thirty, not handsome, but in person andaddress most truly the gentleman. Mr. &arcy looked +ust as he had beenused to look in ertfordshire%%paid his compliments, with his usualreserve, to Mrs. -ollins, and whatever might be his feelings toward herfriend, met her with every appearance of composure. )li*abeth merelycurtseyed to him without saying a word.

-olonel 7it*william entered into conversation directly with thereadiness and ease of a well%bred man, and talked very pleasantly; buthis cousin, after having addressed a slight observation on the house andgarden to Mrs. -ollins, sat for some time without speaking to anybody.At length, however, his civility was so far awakened as to inquire of)li*abeth after the health of her family. She answered him in the usualway, and after a moment6s pause, added4

My eldest sister has been in town these three months. ave you neverhappened to see her there3

She was perfectly sensible that he never had; but she wished to seewhether he would betray any consciousness of what had passed betweenthe Bingleys and 5ane, and she thought he looked a little confused as heanswered that he had never been so fortunate as to meet Miss Bennet. #hesub+ect was pursued no farther, and the gentlemen soon afterwards wentaway.

-hapter GD

-olonel 7it*william6s manners were very much admired at the =arsonage,and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the pleasuresof their engagements at <osings. t was some days, however, before theyreceived any invitation thither%%for while there were visitors in the



house, they could not be necessary; and it was not till )aster%day,almost a week after the gentlemen6s arrival, that they were honoured bysuch an attention, and then they were merely asked on leaving church tocome there in the evening. 7or the last week they had seen very littleof "ady -atherine or her daughter. -olonel 7it*william had called at the=arsonage more than once during the time, but Mr. &arcy they had seenonly at church.

#he invitation was accepted of course, and at a proper hour they +oinedthe party in "ady -atherine6s drawing%room. er ladyship receivedthem civilly, but it was plain that their company was by no means soacceptable as when she could get nobody else; and she was, in fact,almost engrossed by her nephews, speaking to them, especially to &arcy,much more than to any other person in the room.

-olonel 7it*william seemed really glad to see them; anything was awelcome relief to him at <osings; and Mrs. -ollins6s pretty friend hadmoreover caught his fancy very much. e now seated himself by her, andtalked so agreeably of 8ent and ertfordshire, of travelling and stayingat home, of new books and music, that )li*abeth had never been half so

well entertained in that room before; and they conversed with so muchspirit and flow, as to draw the attention of "ady -atherine herself,as well as of Mr. &arcy. 1is1 eyes had been soon and repeatedly turnedtowards them with a look of curiosity; and that her ladyship, after awhile, shared the feeling, was more openly acknowledged, for she did notscruple to call out4

'hat is that you are saying, 7it*william3 'hat is it you are talkingof3 'hat are you telling Miss Bennet3 "et me hear what it is.

'e are speaking of music, madam, said he, when no longer able to avoida reply.

2f music( #hen pray speak aloud. t is of all sub+ects my delight. must have my share in the conversation if you are speaking of music.#here are few people in )ngland, suppose, who have more true en+oymentof music than myself, or a better natural taste. f had ever learnt, should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her healthhad allowed her to apply. am confident that she would have performeddelightfully. ow does 9eorgiana get on, &arcy3

Mr. &arcy spoke with affectionate praise of his sister6s proficiency.

am very glad to hear such a good account of her, said "ady-atherine; and pray tell her from me, that she cannot e$pect to e$celif she does not practice a good deal.

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

So much the better. t cannot be done too much; and when ne$t writeto her, shall charge her not to neglect it on any account. oftentell young ladies that no e$cellence in music is to be acquired withoutconstant practice. have told Miss Bennet several times, that shewill never play really well unless she practises more; and though Mrs.-ollins has no instrument, she is very welcome, as have often toldher, to come to <osings every day, and play on the pianoforte in Mrs.



5enkinson6s room. She would be in nobody6s way, you know, in that partof the house.

Mr. &arcy looked a little ashamed of his aunt6s ill%breeding, and madeno answer.

'hen coffee was over, -olonel 7it*william reminded )li*abeth of havingpromised to play to him; and she sat down directly to the instrument. edrew a chair near her. "ady -atherine listened to half a song, and thentalked, as before, to her other nephew; till the latter walked awayfrom her, and making with his usual deliberation towards the pianofortestationed himself so as to command a full view of the fair performer6scountenance. )li*abeth saw what he was doing, and at the firstconvenient pause, turned to him with an arch smile, and said4

/ou mean to frighten me, Mr. &arcy, by coming in all this state to hearme3 will not be alarmed though your sister 1does1 play so well. #hereis a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at thewill of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidateme.

shall not say you are mistaken, he replied, because you could notreally believe me to entertain any design of alarming you; and havehad the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you findgreat en+oyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact arenot your own.

)li*abeth laughed heartily at this picture of herself, and said to-olonel 7it*william, /our cousin will give you a very pretty notion ofme, and teach you not to believe a word say. am particularly unluckyin meeting with a person so able to e$pose my real character, in a partof the world where had hoped to pass myself off with some degree ofcredit. ndeed, Mr. &arcy, it is very ungenerous in you to mention allthat you knew to my disadvantage in ertfordshire%%and, give me leave tosay, very impolitic too%%for it is provoking me to retaliate, and suchthings may come out as will shock your relations to hear.

am not afraid of you, said he, smilingly.

=ray let me hear what you have to accuse him of, cried -olonel7it*william. should like to know how he behaves among strangers.

/ou shall hear then%%but prepare yourself for something very dreadful.#he first time of my ever seeing him in ertfordshire, you must know,was at a ball%%and at this ball, what do you think he did3 e dancedonly four dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certainknowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a

partner. Mr. &arcy, you cannot deny the fact.

had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assemblybeyond my own party.

#rue; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball%room. 'ell, -olonel7it*william, what do play ne$t3 My fingers wait your orders.

=erhaps, said &arcy, should have +udged better, had sought anintroduction; but am ill%qualified to recommend myself to strangers.



Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this3 said )li*abeth, stilladdressing -olonel 7it*william. Shall we ask him why a man of sense andeducation, and who has lived in the world, is ill qualified to recommendhimself to strangers3

can answer your question, said 7it*william, without applying tohim. t is because he will not give himself the trouble.

certainly have not the talent which some people possess, said &arcy,of conversing easily with those have never seen before. cannotcatch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in theirconcerns, as often see done.

My fingers, said )li*abeth, do not move over this instrument in themasterly manner which see so many women6s do. #hey have not the sameforce or rapidity, and do not produce the same e$pression. But then have always supposed it to be my own fault%%because will not take thetrouble of practising. t is not that do not believe 1my1 fingers ascapable as any other woman6s of superior e$ecution.

&arcy smiled and said, /ou are perfectly right. /ou have employed yourtime much better. !o one admitted to the privilege of hearing you canthink anything wanting. 'e neither of us perform to strangers.

ere they were interrupted by "ady -atherine, who called out to knowwhat they were talking of. )li*abeth immediately began playing again."ady -atherine approached, and, after listening for a few minutes, saidto &arcy4

Miss Bennet would not play at all amiss if she practised more, andcould have the advantage of a "ondon master. She has a very good notionof fingering, though her taste is not equal to Anne6s. Anne would havebeen a delightful performer, had her health allowed her to learn.

)li*abeth looked at &arcy to see how cordially he assented to hiscousin6s praise; but neither at that moment nor at any other could shediscern any symptom of love; and from the whole of his behaviour to Missde Bourgh she derived this comfort for Miss Bingley, that he might havebeen +ust as likely to marry 1her1, had she been his relation.

"ady -atherine continued her remarks on )li*abeth6s performance, mi$ingwith them many instructions on e$ecution and taste. )li*abeth receivedthem with all the forbearance of civility, and, at the request of thegentlemen, remained at the instrument till her ladyship6s carriage wasready to take them all home.

-hapter GF

)li*abeth was sitting by herself the ne$t morning, and writing to 5anewhile Mrs. -ollins and Maria were gone on business into the village,when she was startled by a ring at the door, the certain signal of avisitor. As she had heard no carriage, she thought it not unlikely tobe "ady -atherine, and under that apprehension was putting away her



half%finished letter that she might escape all impertinent questions,when the door opened, and, to her very great surprise, Mr. &arcy, andMr. &arcy only, entered the room.

e seemed astonished too on finding her alone, and apologised for hisintrusion by letting her know that he had understood all the ladies wereto be within.

#hey then sat down, and when her inquiries after <osings were made,seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. t was absolutelynecessary, therefore, to think of something, and in this emergencerecollecting 1when1 she had seen him last in ertfordshire, andfeeling curious to know what he would say on the sub+ect of their hastydeparture, she observed4

ow very suddenly you all quitted !etherfield last !ovember, Mr. &arcy(t must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see youall after him so soon; for, if recollect right, he went but the daybefore. e and his sisters were well, hope, when you left "ondon3

=erfectly so, thank you.

She found that she was to receive no other answer, and, after a shortpause added4

think have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of everreturning to !etherfield again3

have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spendvery little of his time there in the future. e has many friends, andis at a time of life when friends and engagements are continuallyincreasing.

f he means to be but little at !etherfield, it would be better forthe neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then wemight possibly get a settled family there. But, perhaps, Mr. Bingley didnot take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood asfor his own, and we must e$pect him to keep it or quit it on the sameprinciple.

should not be surprised, said &arcy, if he were to give it up assoon as any eligible purchase offers.

)li*abeth made no answer. She was afraid of talking longer of hisfriend; and, having nothing else to say, was now determined to leave thetrouble of finding a sub+ect to him.

e took the hint, and soon began with, #his seems a very comfortablehouse. "ady -atherine, believe, did a great deal to it when Mr.-ollins first came to unsford.

believe she did%%and am sure she could not have bestowed herkindness on a more grateful ob+ect.

Mr. -ollins appears to be very fortunate in his choice of a wife.

/es, indeed, his friends may well re+oice in his having met with one



con+ectures, they could at last only suppose his visit to proceed fromthe difficulty of finding anything to do, which was the more probablefrom the time of year. All field sports were over. 'ithin doors therewas "ady -atherine, books, and a billiard%table, but gentlemen cannotalways be within doors; and in the nearness of the =arsonage, or thepleasantness of the walk to it, or of the people who lived in it, thetwo cousins found a temptation from this period of walking thitheralmost every day. #hey called at various times of the morning, sometimesseparately, sometimes together, and now and then accompanied by theiraunt. t was plain to them all that -olonel 7it*william came because hehad pleasure in their society, a persuasion which of course recommendedhim still more; and )li*abeth was reminded by her own satisfaction inbeing with him, as well as by his evident admiration of her, of herformer favourite 9eorge 'ickham; and though, in comparing them, she sawthere was less captivating softness in -olonel 7it*william6s manners,she believed he might have the best informed mind.

But why Mr. &arcy came so often to the =arsonage, it was more difficultto understand. t could not be for society, as he frequently sat thereten minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak,

it seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice%%a sacrificeto propriety, not a pleasure to himself. e seldom appeared reallyanimated. Mrs. -ollins knew not what to make of him. -olonel7it*william6s occasionally laughing at his stupidity, proved that he wasgenerally different, which her own knowledge of him could not have toldher; and as she would liked to have believed this change the effectof love, and the ob+ect of that love her friend )li*a, she set herselfseriously to work to find it out. She watched him whenever they were at<osings, and whenever he came to unsford; but without much success. ecertainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the e$pression of thatlook was disputable. t was an earnest, steadfast ga*e, but she oftendoubted whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes itseemed nothing but absence of mind.

She had once or twice suggested to )li*abeth the possibility of hisbeing partial to her, but )li*abeth always laughed at the idea; and Mrs.-ollins did not think it right to press the sub+ect, from the danger ofraising e$pectations which might only end in disappointment; for in heropinion it admitted not of a doubt, that all her friend6s dislike wouldvanish, if she could suppose him to be in her power.

n her kind schemes for )li*abeth, she sometimes planned her marrying-olonel 7it*william. e was beyond comparison the most pleasant man; hecertainly admired her, and his situation in life was most eligible; but,to counterbalance these advantages, Mr. &arcy had considerable patronagein the church, and his cousin could have none at all.

-hapter GG

More than once did )li*abeth, in her ramble within the park,une$pectedly meet Mr. &arcy. She felt all the perverseness of themischance that should bring him where no one else was brought, and, toprevent its ever happening again, took care to inform him at first that



it was a favourite haunt of hers. ow it could occur a second time,therefore, was very odd( /et it did, and even a third. t seemed likewilful ill%nature, or a voluntary penance, for on these occasions it wasnot merely a few formal inquiries and an awkward pause and then away,but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her. enever said a great deal, nor did she give herself the trouble of talkingor of listening much; but it struck her in the course of their thirdrencontre that he was asking some odd unconnected questions%%abouther pleasure in being at unsford, her love of solitary walks, and heropinion of Mr. and Mrs. -ollins6s happiness; and that in speaking of<osings and her not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed toe$pect that whenever she came into 8ent again she would be staying1there1 too. is words seemed to imply it. -ould he have -olonel7it*william in his thoughts3 She supposed, if he meant anything, he mustmean an allusion to what might arise in that quarter. t distressedher a little, and she was quite glad to find herself at the gate in thepales opposite the =arsonage.

She was engaged one day as she walked, in perusing 5ane6s last letter,and dwelling on some passages which proved that 5ane had not written in

spirits, when, instead of being again surprised by Mr. &arcy, she sawon looking up that -olonel 7it*william was meeting her. =utting away theletter immediately and forcing a smile, she said4

did not know before that you ever walked this way.

have been making the tour of the park, he replied, as generallydo every year, and intend to close it with a call at the =arsonage. Areyou going much farther3

!o, should have turned in a moment.

And accordingly she did turn, and they walked towards the =arsonagetogether.

&o you certainly leave 8ent on Saturday3 said she.

/es%%if &arcy does not put it off again. But am at his disposal. earranges the business +ust as he pleases.

And if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at leastpleasure in the great power of choice. do not know anybody who seemsmore to en+oy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. &arcy.

e likes to have his own way very well, replied -olonel 7it*william.But so we all do. t is only that he has better means of having itthan many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. speak

feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self%denial anddependence.

n my opinion, the younger son of an earl can know very little ofeither. !ow seriously, what have you ever known of self%denial anddependence3 'hen have you been prevented by want of money from goingwherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for3

#hese are home questions%%and perhaps cannot say that havee$perienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater



weight, may suffer from want of money. /ounger sons cannot marry wherethey like.

0nless where they like women of fortune, which think they very oftendo.

2ur habits of e$pense make us too dependent, and there are not manyin my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention tomoney.

s this, thought )li*abeth, meant for me3 and she coloured at theidea; but, recovering herself, said in a lively tone, And pray, whatis the usual price of an earl6s younger son3 0nless the elder brother isvery sickly, suppose you would not ask above fifty thousand pounds.

e answered her in the same style, and the sub+ect dropped. #o interrupta silence which might make him fancy her affected with what had passed,she soon afterwards said4

imagine your cousin brought you down with him chiefly for the sake of

having someone at his disposal. wonder he does not marry, to secure alasting convenience of that kind. But, perhaps, his sister does as wellfor the present, and, as she is under his sole care, he may do what helikes with her.

!o, said -olonel 7it*william, that is an advantage which he mustdivide with me. am +oined with him in the guardianship of Miss &arcy.

Are you indeed3 And pray what sort of guardians do you make3 &oes yourcharge give you much trouble3 /oung ladies of her age are sometimes alittle difficult to manage, and if she has the true &arcy spirit, shemay like to have her own way.

As she spoke she observed him looking at her earnestly; and the mannerin which he immediately asked her why she supposed Miss &arcy likely togive them any uneasiness, convinced her that she had somehow or othergot pretty near the truth. She directly replied4

/ou need not be frightened. never heard any harm of her; and daresay she is one of the most tractable creatures in the world. She is avery great favourite with some ladies of my acquaintance, Mrs. urst andMiss Bingley. think have heard you say that you know them.

know them a little. #heir brother is a pleasant gentlemanlike man%%heis a great friend of &arcy6s.

2h( yes, said )li*abeth drily; Mr. &arcy is uncommonly kind to Mr.

Bingley, and takes a prodigious deal of care of him.

-are of him( /es, really believe &arcy 1does1 take care of him inthose points where he most wants care. 7rom something that he told me inour +ourney hither, have reason to think Bingley very much indebted tohim. But ought to beg his pardon, for have no right to suppose thatBingley was the person meant. t was all con+ecture.

'hat is it you mean3



t is a circumstance which &arcy could not wish to be generally known,because if it were to get round to the lady6s family, it would be anunpleasant thing.

/ou may depend upon my not mentioning it.

And remember that have not much reason for supposing it to beBingley. 'hat he told me was merely this4 that he congratulated himselfon having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a mostimprudent marriage, but without mentioning names or any otherparticulars, and only suspected it to be Bingley from believinghim the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort, and fromknowing them to have been together the whole of last summer.

&id Mr. &arcy give you reasons for this interference3

understood that there were some very strong ob+ections against thelady.

And what arts did he use to separate them3

e did not talk to me of his own arts, said 7it*william, smiling. eonly told me what have now told you.

)li*abeth made no answer, and walked on, her heart swelling withindignation. After watching her a little, 7it*william asked her why shewas so thoughtful.

am thinking of what you have been telling me, said she. /ourcousin6s conduct does not suit my feelings. 'hy was he to be the +udge3

/ou are rather disposed to call his interference officious3

do not see what right Mr. &arcy had to decide on the propriety of hisfriend6s inclination, or why, upon his own +udgement alone, he was todetermine and direct in what manner his friend was to be happy.But, she continued, recollecting herself, as we know none of theparticulars, it is not fair to condemn him. t is not to be supposedthat there was much affection in the case.

#hat is not an unnatural surmise, said 7it*william, but it is alessening of the honour of my cousin6s triumph very sadly.

#his was spoken +estingly; but it appeared to her so +ust a pictureof Mr. &arcy, that she would not trust herself with an answer, andtherefore, abruptly changing the conversation talked on indifferentmatters until they reached the =arsonage. #here, shut into her own room,

as soon as their visitor left them, she could think without interruptionof all that she had heard. t was not to be supposed that any otherpeople could be meant than those with whom she was connected. #herecould not e$ist in the world 1two1 men over whom Mr. &arcy could havesuch boundless influence. #hat he had been concerned in the measurestaken to separate Bingley and 5ane she had never doubted; but she hadalways attributed to Miss Bingley the principal design and arrangementof them. f his own vanity, however, did not mislead him, 1he1 wasthe cause, his pride and caprice were the cause, of all that 5ane hadsuffered, and still continued to suffer. e had ruined for a while



every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart in theworld; and no one could say how lasting an evil he might have inflicted.

#here were some very strong ob+ections against the lady, were -olonel7it*william6s words; and those strong ob+ections probably were, herhaving one uncle who was a country attorney, and another who was inbusiness in "ondon.

#o 5ane herself, she e$claimed, there could be no possibility ofob+ection; all loveliness and goodness as she is(%%her understandinge$cellent, her mind improved, and her manners captivating. !eithercould anything be urged against my father, who, though with somepeculiarities, has abilities Mr. &arcy himself need not disdain, andrespectability which he will probably never reach. 'hen she thought ofher mother, her confidence gave way a little; but she would not allowthat any ob+ections 1there1 had material weight with Mr. &arcy, whosepride, she was convinced, would receive a deeper wound from the want ofimportance in his friend6s connections, than from their want of sense;and she was quite decided, at last, that he had been partly governedby this worst kind of pride, and partly by the wish of retaining Mr.

Bingley for his sister.

#he agitation and tears which the sub+ect occasioned, brought on aheadache; and it grew so much worse towards the evening, that, added toher unwillingness to see Mr. &arcy, it determined her not to attend hercousins to <osings, where they were engaged to drink tea. Mrs. -ollins,seeing that she was really unwell, did not press her to go and as muchas possible prevented her husband from pressing her; but Mr. -ollinscould not conceal his apprehension of "ady -atherine6s being ratherdispleased by her staying at home.

-hapter G:

'hen they were gone, )li*abeth, as if intending to e$asperate herselfas much as possible against Mr. &arcy, chose for her employment thee$amination of all the letters which 5ane had written to her since herbeing in 8ent. #hey contained no actual complaint, nor was there anyrevival of past occurrences, or any communication of present suffering.But in all, and in almost every line of each, there was a want of thatcheerfulness which had been used to characterise her style, and which,proceeding from the serenity of a mind at ease with itself and kindlydisposed towards everyone, had been scarcely ever clouded. )li*abethnoticed every sentence conveying the idea of uneasiness, with anattention which it had hardly received on the first perusal. Mr. &arcy6s

shameful boast of what misery he had been able to inflict, gave hera keener sense of her sister6s sufferings. t was some consolationto think that his visit to <osings was to end on the day after thene$t%%and, a still greater, that in less than a fortnight she shouldherself be with 5ane again, and enabled to contribute to the recovery ofher spirits, by all that affection could do.

She could not think of &arcy6s leaving 8ent without remembering thathis cousin was to go with him; but -olonel 7it*william had made it clearthat he had no intentions at all, and agreeable as he was, she did not



mean to be unhappy about him.

'hile settling this point, she was suddenly roused by the sound of thedoor%bell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of itsbeing -olonel 7it*william himself, who had once before called late inthe evening, and might now come to inquire particularly after her.But this idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differentlyaffected, when, to her utter ama*ement, she saw Mr. &arcy walk into theroom. n an hurried manner he immediately began an inquiry after herhealth, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better.She answered him with cold civility. e sat down for a few moments, andthen getting up, walked about the room. )li*abeth was surprised, butsaid not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards herin an agitated manner, and thus began4

n vain have struggled. t will not do. My feelings will not berepressed. /ou must allow me to tell you how ardently admire and loveyou.

)li*abeth6s astonishment was beyond e$pression. She stared, coloured,

doubted, and was silent. #his he considered sufficient encouragement;and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her,immediately followed. e spoke well; but there were feelings besidesthose of the heart to be detailed; and he was not more eloquent on thesub+ect of tenderness than of pride. is sense of her inferiority%%ofits being a degradation%%of the family obstacles which had alwaysopposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due tothe consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend hissuit.

n spite of her deeply%rooted dislike, she could not be insensible tothe compliment of such a man6s affection, and though her intentions didnot vary for an instant, she was at first sorry for the pain he was toreceive; till, roused to resentment by his subsequent language, shelost all compassion in anger. She tried, however, to compose herself toanswer him with patience, when he should have done. e concluded withrepresenting to her the strength of that attachment which, in spiteof all his endeavours, he had found impossible to conquer; and withe$pressing his hope that it would now be rewarded by her acceptance ofhis hand. As he said this, she could easily see that he had no doubtof a favourable answer. e 1spoke1 of apprehension and an$iety, buthis countenance e$pressed real security. Such a circumstance couldonly e$asperate farther, and, when he ceased, the colour rose into hercheeks, and she said4

n such cases as this, it is, believe, the established mode toe$press a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however

unequally they may be returned. t is natural that obligation shouldbe felt, and if could 1feel1 gratitude, would now thank you. But cannot%% have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainlybestowed it most unwillingly. am sorry to have occasioned pain toanyone. t has been most unconsciously done, however, and hope will beof short duration. #he feelings which, you tell me, have long preventedthe acknowledgment of your regard, can have little difficulty inovercoming it after this e$planation.

Mr. &arcy, who was leaning against the mantelpiece with his eyes fi$ed



'ho that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling aninterest in him3

is misfortunes( repeated &arcy contemptuously; yes, his misfortuneshave been great indeed.

And of your infliction, cried )li*abeth with energy. /ou have reducedhim to his present state of poverty%%comparative poverty. /ou havewithheld the advantages which you must know to have been designed forhim. /ou have deprived the best years of his life of that independencewhich was no less his due than his desert. /ou have done all this(and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortune with contempt andridicule.

And this, cried &arcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room,is your opinion of me( #his is the estimation in which you hold me( thank you for e$plaining it so fully. My faults, according to thiscalculation, are heavy indeed( But perhaps, added he, stopping inhis walk, and turning towards her, these offenses might have beenoverlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the

scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. #hesebitter accusations might have been suppressed, had , with greaterpolicy, concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief ofmy being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination; by reason, byreflection, by everything. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence.!or am ashamed of the feelings related. #hey were natural and+ust. -ould you e$pect me to re+oice in the inferiority of yourconnections3%%to congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whosecondition in life is so decidedly beneath my own3

)li*abeth felt herself growing more angry every moment; yet she tried tothe utmost to speak with composure when she said4

/ou are mistaken, Mr. &arcy, if you suppose that the mode of yourdeclaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concernwhich might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a moregentlemanlike manner.

She saw him start at this, but he said nothing, and she continued4

/ou could not have made the offer of your hand in any possible way thatwould have tempted me to accept it.

Again his astonishment was obvious; and he looked at her with ane$pression of mingled incredulity and mortification. She went on4

7rom the very beginning%%from the first moment, may almost say%%of

my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullestbelief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain ofthe feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork ofdisapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable adislike; and had not known you a month before felt that you were thelast man in the world whom could ever be prevailed on to marry.

/ou have said quite enough, madam. perfectly comprehend yourfeelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been.7orgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best



wishes for your health and happiness.

And with these words he hastily left the room, and )li*abeth heard himthe ne$t moment open the front door and quit the house.

#he tumult of her mind, was now painfully great. She knew not howto support herself, and from actual weakness sat down and cried forhalf%an%hour. er astonishment, as she reflected on what had passed,was increased by every review of it. #hat she should receive an offer ofmarriage from Mr. &arcy( #hat he should have been in love with her forso many months( So much in love as to wish to marry her in spite ofall the ob+ections which had made him prevent his friend6s marryingher sister, and which must appear at least with equal force in hisown case%%was almost incredible( t was gratifying to have inspiredunconsciously so strong an affection. But his pride, his abominablepride%%his shameless avowal of what he had done with respect to5ane%%his unpardonable assurance in acknowledging, though he couldnot +ustify it, and the unfeeling manner in which he had mentioned Mr.'ickham, his cruelty towards whom he had not attempted to deny, soonovercame the pity which the consideration of his attachment had for

a moment e$cited. She continued in very agitated reflections till thesound of "ady -atherine6s carriage made her feel how unequal she was toencounter -harlotte6s observation, and hurried her away to her room.

-hapter G

)li*abeth awoke the ne$t morning to the same thoughts and meditationswhich had at length closed her eyes. She could not yet recover from thesurprise of what had happened; it was impossible to think of anythingelse; and, totally indisposed for employment, she resolved, soon afterbreakfast, to indulge herself in air and e$ercise. She was proceedingdirectly to her favourite walk, when the recollection of Mr. &arcy6ssometimes coming there stopped her, and instead of entering the park,she turned up the lane, which led farther from the turnpike%road. #hepark paling was still the boundary on one side, and she soon passed oneof the gates into the ground.

After walking two or three times along that part of the lane, she wastempted, by the pleasantness of the morning, to stop at the gates andlook into the park. #he five weeks which she had now passed in 8ent hadmade a great difference in the country, and every day was adding to theverdure of the early trees. She was on the point of continuing her walk,when she caught a glimpse of a gentleman within the sort of grove whichedged the park; he was moving that way; and, fearful of its being Mr.

&arcy, she was directly retreating. But the person who advanced was nownear enough to see her, and stepping forward with eagerness, pronouncedher name. She had turned away; but on hearing herself called, thoughin a voice which proved it to be Mr. &arcy, she moved again towards thegate. e had by that time reached it also, and, holding out a letter,which she instinctively took, said, with a look of haughty composure, have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you.'ill you do me the honour of reading that letter3 And then, with aslight bow, turned again into the plantation, and was soon out of sight.



scruple to assert, that the serenity of your sister6s countenance andair was such as might have given the most acute observer a convictionthat, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to beeasily touched. #hat was desirous of believing her indifferent iscertain%%but will venture to say that my investigation and decisionsare not usually influenced by my hopes or fears. did not believeher to be indifferent because wished it; believed it on impartialconviction, as truly as wished it in reason. My ob+ections to themarriage were not merely those which last night acknowledged to havethe utmost force of passion to put aside, in my own case; the want ofconnection could not be so great an evil to my friend as to me. Butthere were other causes of repugnance; causes which, though stille$isting, and e$isting to an equal degree in both instances, hadmyself endeavoured to forget, because they were not immediately beforeme. #hese causes must be stated, though briefly. #he situation of yourmother6s family, though ob+ectionable, was nothing in comparison to thattotal want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed byherself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by yourfather. =ardon me. t pains me to offend you. But amidst your concernfor the defects of your nearest relations, and your displeasure at this

representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider that, tohave conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like censure,is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your elder sister, thanit is honourable to the sense and disposition of both. will only sayfarther that from what passed that evening, my opinion of all partieswas confirmed, and every inducement heightened which could have ledme before, to preserve my friend from what esteemed a most unhappyconnection. e left !etherfield for "ondon, on the day following, asyou, am certain, remember, with the design of soon returning.

#he part which acted is now to be e$plained. is sisters6 uneasinesshad been equally e$cited with my own; our coincidence of feeling wassoon discovered, and, alike sensible that no time was to be lost indetaching their brother, we shortly resolved on +oining him directly in"ondon. 'e accordingly went%%and there readily engaged in the officeof pointing out to my friend the certain evils of such a choice. described, and enforced them earnestly. But, however this remonstrancemight have staggered or delayed his determination, do not supposethat it would ultimately have prevented the marriage, had it not beenseconded by the assurance that hesitated not in giving, of yoursister6s indifference. e had before believed her to return hisaffection with sincere, if not with equal regard. But Bingley has greatnatural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my +udgement than on hisown. #o convince him, therefore, that he had deceived himself, wasno very difficult point. #o persuade him against returning intoertfordshire, when that conviction had been given, was scarcely thework of a moment. cannot blame myself for having done thus much. #here

is but one part of my conduct in the whole affair on which do notreflect with satisfaction; it is that condescended to adopt themeasures of art so far as to conceal from him your sister6s being intown. knew it myself, as it was known to Miss Bingley; but herbrother is even yet ignorant of it. #hat they might have met withoutill consequence is perhaps probable; but his regard did not appear to meenough e$tinguished for him to see her without some danger. =erhaps thisconcealment, this disguise was beneath me; it is done, however, and itwas done for the best. 2n this sub+ect have nothing more to say, noother apology to offer. f have wounded your sister6s feelings, it



was unknowingly done and though the motives which governed me may toyou very naturally appear insufficient, have not yet learnt to condemnthem.

'ith respect to that other, more weighty accusation, of having in+uredMr. 'ickham, can only refute it by laying before you the whole of hisconnection with my family. 2f what he has 1particularly1 accused me am ignorant; but of the truth of what shall relate, can summon morethan one witness of undoubted veracity.

Mr. 'ickham is the son of a very respectable man, who had for manyyears the management of all the =emberley estates, and whose goodconduct in the discharge of his trust naturally inclined my father tobe of service to him; and on 9eorge 'ickham, who was his godson, hiskindness was therefore liberally bestowed. My father supported him atschool, and afterwards at -ambridge%%most important assistance, as hisown father, always poor from the e$travagance of his wife, would havebeen unable to give him a gentleman6s education. My father was not onlyfond of this young man6s society, whose manners were always engaging; hehad also the highest opinion of him, and hoping the church would be

his profession, intended to provide for him in it. As for myself, it ismany, many years since first began to think of him in a very differentmanner. #he vicious propensities%%the want of principle, which he wascareful to guard from the knowledge of his best friend, could not escapethe observation of a young man of nearly the same age with himself,and who had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments, which Mr.&arcy could not have. ere again shall give you pain%%to what degreeyou only can tell. But whatever may be the sentiments which Mr. 'ickhamhas created, a suspicion of their nature shall not prevent me fromunfolding his real character%%it adds even another motive.

My e$cellent father died about five years ago; and his attachment toMr. 'ickham was to the last so steady, that in his will he particularlyrecommended it to me, to promote his advancement in the best mannerthat his profession might allow%%and if he took orders, desired that avaluable family living might be his as soon as it became vacant. #herewas also a legacy of one thousand pounds. is own father did not longsurvive mine, and within half a year from these events, Mr. 'ickhamwrote to inform me that, having finally resolved against taking orders,he hoped should not think it unreasonable for him to e$pect some moreimmediate pecuniary advantage, in lieu of the preferment, by which hecould not be benefited. e had some intention, he added, of studyinglaw, and must be aware that the interest of one thousand pounds wouldbe a very insufficient support therein. rather wished, than believedhim to be sincere; but, at any rate, was perfectly ready to accede tohis proposal. knew that Mr. 'ickham ought not to be a clergyman; thebusiness was therefore soon settled%%he resigned all claim to assistance

in the church, were it possible that he could ever be in a situation toreceive it, and accepted in return three thousand pounds. All connectionbetween us seemed now dissolved. thought too ill of him to invite himto =emberley, or admit his society in town. n town believe he chieflylived, but his studying the law was a mere pretence, and being now freefrom all restraint, his life was a life of idleness and dissipation.7or about three years heard little of him; but on the decease of theincumbent of the living which had been designed for him, he applied tome again by letter for the presentation. is circumstances, he assuredme, and had no difficulty in believing it, were e$ceedingly bad. e



had found the law a most unprofitable study, and was now absolutelyresolved on being ordained, if would present him to the living inquestion%%of which he trusted there could be little doubt, as he waswell assured that had no other person to provide for, and could nothave forgotten my revered father6s intentions. /ou will hardly blameme for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or for resisting everyrepetition to it. is resentment was in proportion to the distress ofhis circumstances%%and he was doubtless as violent in his abuse of meto others as in his reproaches to myself. After this period everyappearance of acquaintance was dropped. ow he lived know not. Butlast summer he was again most painfully obtruded on my notice.

must now mention a circumstance which would wish to forget myself,and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfoldto any human being. aving said thus much, feel no doubt of yoursecrecy. My sister, who is more than ten years my +unior, was left tothe guardianship of my mother6s nephew, -olonel 7it*william, and myself.About a year ago, she was taken from school, and an establishment formedfor her in "ondon; and last summer she went with the lady who presidedover it, to <amsgate; and thither also went Mr. 'ickham, undoubtedly by

design; for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between himand Mrs. /ounge, in whose character we were most unhappily deceived; andby her connivance and aid, he so far recommended himself to 9eorgiana,whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness toher as a child, that she was persuaded to believe herself in love, andto consent to an elopement. She was then but fifteen, which must be here$cuse; and after stating her imprudence, am happy to add, that owedthe knowledge of it to herself. +oined them une$pectedly a day or twobefore the intended elopement, and then 9eorgiana, unable to support theidea of grieving and offending a brother whom she almost looked up to asa father, acknowledged the whole to me. /ou may imagine what felt andhow acted. <egard for my sister6s credit and feelings preventedany public e$posure; but wrote to Mr. 'ickham, who left the placeimmediately, and Mrs. /ounge was of course removed from her charge. Mr.'ickham6s chief ob+ect was unquestionably my sister6s fortune, whichis thirty thousand pounds; but cannot help supposing that the hope ofrevenging himself on me was a strong inducement. is revenge would havebeen complete indeed.

#his, madam, is a faithful narrative of every event in which we havebeen concerned together; and if you do not absolutely re+ect it asfalse, you will, hope, acquit me henceforth of cruelty towards Mr.'ickham. know not in what manner, under what form of falsehood hehad imposed on you; but his success is not perhaps to be wonderedat. gnorant as you previously were of everything concerning either,detection could not be in your power, and suspicion certainly not inyour inclination.

/ou may possibly wonder why all this was not told you last night; but was not then master enough of myself to know what could or ought tobe revealed. 7or the truth of everything here related, can appeal moreparticularly to the testimony of -olonel 7it*william, who, from ournear relationship and constant intimacy, and, still more, as one ofthe e$ecutors of my father6s will, has been unavoidably acquaintedwith every particular of these transactions. f your abhorrence of 1me1should make 1my1 assertions valueless, you cannot be prevented bythe same cause from confiding in my cousin; and that there may be



the possibility of consulting him, shall endeavour to find someopportunity of putting this letter in your hands in the course of themorning. will only add, 9od bless you.

7#'""AM &A<-/

-hapter G?

f )li*abeth, when Mr. &arcy gave her the letter, did not e$pect it tocontain a renewal of his offers, she had formed no e$pectation at all ofits contents. But such as they were, it may well be supposed how eagerlyshe went through them, and what a contrariety of emotion they e$cited.er feelings as she read were scarcely to be defined. 'ith ama*ement didshe first understand that he believed any apology to be in his power;and steadfastly was she persuaded, that he could have no e$planationto give, which a +ust sense of shame would not conceal. 'ith a strongpre+udice against everything he might say, she began his account of what

had happened at !etherfield. She read with an eagerness which hardlyleft her power of comprehension, and from impatience of knowing what thene$t sentence might bring, was incapable of attending to the sense ofthe one before her eyes. is belief of her sister6s insensibility sheinstantly resolved to be false; and his account of the real, the worstob+ections to the match, made her too angry to have any wish of doinghim +ustice. e e$pressed no regret for what he had done which satisfiedher; his style was not penitent, but haughty. t was all pride andinsolence.

But when this sub+ect was succeeded by his account of Mr. 'ickham%%whenshe read with somewhat clearer attention a relation of events which,if true, must overthrow every cherished opinion of his worth, and whichbore so alarming an affinity to his own history of himself%%herfeelings were yet more acutely painful and more difficult of definition.Astonishment, apprehension, and even horror, oppressed her. She wishedto discredit it entirely, repeatedly e$claiming, #his must be false(#his cannot be( #his must be the grossest falsehood(%%and when she hadgone through the whole letter, though scarcely knowing anything of thelast page or two, put it hastily away, protesting that she would notregard it, that she would never look in it again.

n this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts that could rest onnothing, she walked on; but it would not do; in half a minute the letterwas unfolded again, and collecting herself as well as she could, sheagain began the mortifying perusal of all that related to 'ickham, andcommanded herself so far as to e$amine the meaning of every sentence.

#he account of his connection with the =emberley family was e$actly whathe had related himself; and the kindness of the late Mr. &arcy, thoughshe had not before known its e$tent, agreed equally well with his ownwords. So far each recital confirmed the other; but when she came to thewill, the difference was great. 'hat 'ickham had said of the livingwas fresh in her memory, and as she recalled his very words, it wasimpossible not to feel that there was gross duplicity on one side or theother; and, for a few moments, she flattered herself that her wishes didnot err. But when she read and re%read with the closest attention, theparticulars immediately following of 'ickham6s resigning all pretensions



to the living, of his receiving in lieu so considerable a sum as threethousand pounds, again was she forced to hesitate. She put downthe letter, weighed every circumstance with what she meant to beimpartiality%%deliberated on the probability of each statement%%but withlittle success. 2n both sides it was only assertion. Again she readon; but every line proved more clearly that the affair, which she hadbelieved it impossible that any contrivance could so represent as torender Mr. &arcy6s conduct in it less than infamous, was capable of aturn which must make him entirely blameless throughout the whole.

#he e$travagance and general profligacy which he scrupled not to lay atMr. 'ickham6s charge, e$ceedingly shocked her; the more so, as she couldbring no proof of its in+ustice. She had never heard of him before hisentrance into the %%%%shire Militia, in which he had engaged at thepersuasion of the young man who, on meeting him accidentally in town,had there renewed a slight acquaintance. 2f his former way of lifenothing had been known in ertfordshire but what he told himself. Asto his real character, had information been in her power, she hadnever felt a wish of inquiring. is countenance, voice, and manner hadestablished him at once in the possession of every virtue. She tried

to recollect some instance of goodness, some distinguished trait ofintegrity or benevolence, that might rescue him from the attacks ofMr. &arcy; or at least, by the predominance of virtue, atone for thosecasual errors under which she would endeavour to class what Mr. &arcyhad described as the idleness and vice of many years6 continuance. Butno such recollection befriended her. She could see him instantly beforeher, in every charm of air and address; but she could remember no moresubstantial good than the general approbation of the neighbourhood, andthe regard which his social powers had gained him in the mess. Afterpausing on this point a considerable while, she once more continued toread. But, alas( the story which followed, of his designs on Miss&arcy, received some confirmation from what had passed between -olonel7it*william and herself only the morning before; and at last she wasreferred for the truth of every particular to -olonel 7it*williamhimself%%from whom she had previously received the information of hisnear concern in all his cousin6s affairs, and whose character she had noreason to question. At one time she had almost resolved on applying tohim, but the idea was checked by the awkwardness of the application, andat length wholly banished by the conviction that Mr. &arcy would neverhave ha*arded such a proposal, if he had not been well assured of hiscousin6s corroboration.

She perfectly remembered everything that had passed in conversationbetween 'ickham and herself, in their first evening at Mr. =hillips6s.Many of his e$pressions were still fresh in her memory. She was 1now1struck with the impropriety of such communications to a stranger, andwondered it had escaped her before. She saw the indelicacy of putting

himself forward as he had done, and the inconsistency of his professionswith his conduct. She remembered that he had boasted of having no fearof seeing Mr. &arcy%%that Mr. &arcy might leave the country, but that1he1 should stand his ground; yet he had avoided the !etherfield ballthe very ne$t week. She remembered also that, till the !etherfieldfamily had quitted the country, he had told his story to no one butherself; but that after their removal it had been everywhere discussed;that he had then no reserves, no scruples in sinking Mr. &arcy6scharacter, though he had assured her that respect for the father wouldalways prevent his e$posing the son.



ow differently did everything now appear in which he was concerned(is attentions to Miss 8ing were now the consequence of views solely andhatefully mercenary; and the mediocrity of her fortune proved no longerthe moderation of his wishes, but his eagerness to grasp at anything.is behaviour to herself could now have had no tolerable motive; he hadeither been deceived with regard to her fortune, or had been gratifyinghis vanity by encouraging the preference which she believed she had mostincautiously shown. )very lingering struggle in his favour grew fainterand fainter; and in farther +ustification of Mr. &arcy, she could notbut allow that Mr. Bingley, when questioned by 5ane, had long agoasserted his blamelessness in the affair; that proud and repulsive aswere his manners, she had never, in the whole course of theiracquaintance%%an acquaintance which had latterly brought them muchtogether, and given her a sort of intimacy with his ways%%seen anythingthat betrayed him to be unprincipled or un+ust%%anything that spoke himof irreligious or immoral habits; that among his own connections he wasesteemed and valued%%that even 'ickham had allowed him merit as abrother, and that she had often heard him speak so affectionately of hissister as to prove him capable of 1some1 amiable feeling; that had his

actions been what Mr. 'ickham represented them, so gross a violation ofeverything right could hardly have been concealed from the world; andthat friendship between a person capable of it, and such an amiable manas Mr. Bingley, was incomprehensible.

She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. 2f neither &arcy nor 'ickhamcould she think without feeling she had been blind, partial, pre+udiced,absurd.

ow despicably have acted( she cried; , who have prided myselfon my discernment( , who have valued myself on my abilities( who haveoften disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratifiedmy vanity in useless or blameable mistrust( ow humiliating is thisdiscovery( /et, how +ust a humiliation( ad been in love, couldnot have been more wretchedly blind( But vanity, not love, has been myfolly. =leased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglectof the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, have courtedprepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either wereconcerned. #ill this moment never knew myself.

7rom herself to 5ane%%from 5ane to Bingley, her thoughts were in a linewhich soon brought to her recollection that Mr. &arcy6s e$planation1there1 had appeared very insufficient, and she read it again. 'idelydifferent was the effect of a second perusal. ow could she deny thatcredit to his assertions in one instance, which she had been obliged togive in the other3 e declared himself to be totally unsuspicious of hersister6s attachment; and she could not help remembering what -harlotte6s

opinion had always been. !either could she deny the +ustice of hisdescription of 5ane. She felt that 5ane6s feelings, though fervent, werelittle displayed, and that there was a constant complacency in her airand manner not often united with great sensibility.

'hen she came to that part of the letter in which her family werementioned in terms of such mortifying, yet merited reproach, her senseof shame was severe. #he +ustice of the charge struck her too forciblyfor denial, and the circumstances to which he particularly alluded ashaving passed at the !etherfield ball, and as confirming all his first



disapprobation, could not have made a stronger impression on his mindthan on hers.

#he compliment to herself and her sister was not unfelt. t soothed,but it could not console her for the contempt which had thus beenself%attracted by the rest of her family; and as she consideredthat 5ane6s disappointment had in fact been the work of her nearestrelations, and reflected how materially the credit of both must be hurtby such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed beyond anything shehad ever known before.

After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way to everyvariety of thought%%re%considering events, determining probabilities,and reconciling herself, as well as she could, to a change so sudden andso important, fatigue, and a recollection of her long absence, madeher at length return home; and she entered the house with the wishof appearing cheerful as usual, and the resolution of repressing suchreflections as must make her unfit for conversation.

She was immediately told that the two gentlemen from <osings had each

called during her absence; Mr. &arcy, only for a few minutes, to takeleave%%but that -olonel 7it*william had been sitting with them at leastan hour, hoping for her return, and almost resolving to walk after hertill she could be found. )li*abeth could but +ust 1affect1 concernin missing him; she really re+oiced at it. -olonel 7it*william was nolonger an ob+ect; she could think only of her letter.

-hapter G@

#he two gentlemen left <osings the ne$t morning, and Mr. -ollins havingbeen in waiting near the lodges, to make them his parting obeisance, wasable to bring home the pleasing intelligence, of their appearing in verygood health, and in as tolerable spirits as could be e$pected, after themelancholy scene so lately gone through at <osings. #o <osings he thenhastened, to console "ady -atherine and her daughter; and on his returnbrought back, with great satisfaction, a message from her ladyship,importing that she felt herself so dull as to make her very desirous ofhaving them all to dine with her.

)li*abeth could not see "ady -atherine without recollecting that, hadshe chosen it, she might by this time have been presented to her asher future niece; nor could she think, without a smile, of what herladyship6s indignation would have been. 'hat would she have said3 howwould she have behaved3 were questions with which she amused herself.

#heir first sub+ect was the diminution of the <osings party. assureyou, feel it e$ceedingly, said "ady -atherine; believe no onefeels the loss of friends so much as do. But am particularlyattached to these young men, and know them to be so much attached tome( #hey were e$cessively sorry to go( But so they always are. #hedear -olonel rallied his spirits tolerably till +ust at last; but &arcyseemed to feel it most acutely, more, think, than last year. isattachment to <osings certainly increases.



occupied, she might have forgotten where she was. <eflection must bereserved for solitary hours; whenever she was alone, she gave way to itas the greatest relief; and not a day went by without a solitarywalk, in which she might indulge in all the delight of unpleasantrecollections.

Mr. &arcy6s letter she was in a fair way of soon knowing by heart. Shestudied every sentence; and her feelings towards its writer were attimes widely different. 'hen she remembered the style of his address,she was still full of indignation; but when she considered how un+ustlyshe had condemned and upbraided him, her anger was turned againstherself; and his disappointed feelings became the ob+ect of compassion.is attachment e$cited gratitude, his general character respect; but shecould not approve him; nor could she for a moment repent her refusal,or feel the slightest inclination ever to see him again. n her own pastbehaviour, there was a constant source of ve$ation and regret; and inthe unhappy defects of her family, a sub+ect of yet heavier chagrin.#hey were hopeless of remedy. er father, contented with laughing atthem, would never e$ert himself to restrain the wild giddiness of hisyoungest daughters; and her mother, with manners so far from right

herself, was entirely insensible of the evil. )li*abeth had frequentlyunited with 5ane in an endeavour to check the imprudence of -atherineand "ydia; but while they were supported by their mother6s indulgence,what chance could there be of improvement3 -atherine, weak%spirited,irritable, and completely under "ydia6s guidance, had been alwaysaffronted by their advice; and "ydia, self%willed and careless, wouldscarcely give them a hearing. #hey were ignorant, idle, and vain. 'hilethere was an officer in Meryton, they would flirt with him; and whileMeryton was within a walk of "ongbourn, they would be going thereforever.

An$iety on 5ane6s behalf was another prevailing concern; and Mr. &arcy6se$planation, by restoring Bingley to all her former good opinion,heightened the sense of what 5ane had lost. is affection was provedto have been sincere, and his conduct cleared of all blame, unless anycould attach to the implicitness of his confidence in his friend. owgrievous then was the thought that, of a situation so desirable in everyrespect, so replete with advantage, so promising for happiness, 5ane hadbeen deprived, by the folly and indecorum of her own family(

'hen to these recollections was added the development of 'ickham6scharacter, it may be easily believed that the happy spirits which hadseldom been depressed before, were now so much affected as to make italmost impossible for her to appear tolerably cheerful.

#heir engagements at <osings were as frequent during the last week ofher stay as they had been at first. #he very last evening was spent

there; and her ladyship again inquired minutely into the particulars oftheir +ourney, gave them directions as to the best method of packing,and was so urgent on the necessity of placing gowns in the only rightway, that Maria thought herself obliged, on her return, to undo all thework of the morning, and pack her trunk afresh.

'hen they parted, "ady -atherine, with great condescension, wished thema good +ourney, and invited them to come to unsford again ne$t year;and Miss de Bourgh e$erted herself so far as to curtsey and hold out herhand to both.



-hapter G

2n Saturday morning )li*abeth and Mr. -ollins met for breakfast a fewminutes before the others appeared; and he took the opportunity ofpaying the parting civilities which he deemed indispensably necessary.

know not, Miss )li*abeth, said he, whether Mrs. -ollins has yete$pressed her sense of your kindness in coming to us; but am verycertain you will not leave the house without receiving her thanks forit. #he favour of your company has been much felt, assure you. 'eknow how little there is to tempt anyone to our humble abode. 2ur plainmanner of living, our small rooms and few domestics, and the little wesee of the world, must make unsford e$tremely dull to a young lady likeyourself; but hope you will believe us grateful for the condescension,and that we have done everything in our power to prevent your spendingyour time unpleasantly.

)li*abeth was eager with her thanks and assurances of happiness. Shehad spent si$ weeks with great en+oyment; and the pleasure of being with-harlotte, and the kind attentions she had received, must make 1her1feel the obliged. Mr. -ollins was gratified, and with a more smilingsolemnity replied4

t gives me great pleasure to hear that you have passed your time notdisagreeably. 'e have certainly done our best; and most fortunatelyhaving it in our power to introduce you to very superior society, and,from our connection with <osings, the frequent means of varying thehumble home scene, think we may flatter ourselves that your unsfordvisit cannot have been entirely irksome. 2ur situation with regard to"ady -atherine6s family is indeed the sort of e$traordinary advantageand blessing which few can boast. /ou see on what a footing we are. /ousee how continually we are engaged there. n truth must acknowledgethat, with all the disadvantages of this humble parsonage, shouldnot think anyone abiding in it an ob+ect of compassion, while they aresharers of our intimacy at <osings.

'ords were insufficient for the elevation of his feelings; and he wasobliged to walk about the room, while )li*abeth tried to unite civilityand truth in a few short sentences.

/ou may, in fact, carry a very favourable report of us intoertfordshire, my dear cousin. flatter myself at least that you willbe able to do so. "ady -atherine6s great attentions to Mrs. -ollins you

have been a daily witness of; and altogether trust it does not appearthat your friend has drawn an unfortunate%%but on this point it will beas well to be silent. 2nly let me assure you, my dear Miss )li*abeth,that can from my heart most cordially wish you equal felicity inmarriage. My dear -harlotte and have but one mind and one way ofthinking. #here is in everything a most remarkable resemblance ofcharacter and ideas between us. 'e seem to have been designed for eachother.

)li*abeth could safely say that it was a great happiness where that was



the case, and with equal sincerity could add, that she firmly believedand re+oiced in his domestic comforts. She was not sorry, however, tohave the recital of them interrupted by the lady from whom they sprang.=oor -harlotte( it was melancholy to leave her to such society( But shehad chosen it with her eyes open; and though evidently regretting thather visitors were to go, she did not seem to ask for compassion. erhome and her housekeeping, her parish and her poultry, and all theirdependent concerns, had not yet lost their charms.

At length the chaise arrived, the trunks were fastened on, the parcelsplaced within, and it was pronounced to be ready. After an affectionateparting between the friends, )li*abeth was attended to the carriage byMr. -ollins, and as they walked down the garden he was commissioning herwith his best respects to all her family, not forgetting his thanksfor the kindness he had received at "ongbourn in the winter, and hiscompliments to Mr. and Mrs. 9ardiner, though unknown. e then handed herin, Maria followed, and the door was on the point of being closed,when he suddenly reminded them, with some consternation, that they hadhitherto forgotten to leave any message for the ladies at <osings.

But, he added, you will of course wish to have your humble respectsdelivered to them, with your grateful thanks for their kindness to youwhile you have been here.

)li*abeth made no ob+ection; the door was then allowed to be shut, andthe carriage drove off.

9ood gracious( cried Maria, after a few minutes6 silence, it seemsbut a day or two since we first came( and yet how many things havehappened(

A great many indeed, said her companion with a sigh.

'e have dined nine times at <osings, besides drinking tea there twice(ow much shall have to tell(

)li*abeth added privately, And how much shall have to conceal(

#heir +ourney was performed without much conversation, or any alarm; andwithin four hours of their leaving unsford they reached Mr. 9ardiner6shouse, where they were to remain a few days.

5ane looked well, and )li*abeth had little opportunity of studying herspirits, amidst the various engagements which the kindness of heraunt had reserved for them. But 5ane was to go home with her, and at"ongbourn there would be leisure enough for observation.

t was not without an effort, meanwhile, that she could wait even for"ongbourn, before she told her sister of Mr. &arcy6s proposals. #o knowthat she had the power of revealing what would so e$ceedingly astonish5ane, and must, at the same time, so highly gratify whatever of her ownvanity she had not yet been able to reason away, was such a temptationto openness as nothing could have conquered but the state of indecisionin which she remained as to the e$tent of what she should communicate;and her fear, if she once entered on the sub+ect, of being hurriedinto repeating something of Bingley which might only grieve her sisterfurther.



-hapter GC

t was the second week in May, in which the three young ladies set outtogether from 9racechurch Street for the town of %%%%, in ertfordshire;and, as they drew near the appointed inn where Mr. Bennet6s carriagewas to meet them, they quickly perceived, in token of the coachman6spunctuality, both 8itty and "ydia looking out of a dining%room up stairs.#hese two girls had been above an hour in the place, happily employedin visiting an opposite milliner, watching the sentinel on guard, anddressing a salad and cucumber.

After welcoming their sisters, they triumphantly displayed a table setout with such cold meat as an inn larder usually affords, e$claiming,s not this nice3 s not this an agreeable surprise3

And we mean to treat you all, added "ydia, but you must lend us the

money, for we have +ust spent ours at the shop out there. #hen, showingher purchases%%"ook here, have bought this bonnet. do not thinkit is very pretty; but thought might as well buy it as not. shallpull it to pieces as soon as get home, and see if can make it up anybetter.

And when her sisters abused it as ugly, she added, with perfectunconcern, 2h( but there were two or three much uglier in the shop; andwhen have bought some prettier%coloured satin to trim it with fresh, think it will be very tolerable. Besides, it will not much signify whatone wears this summer, after the %%%%shire have left Meryton, and theyare going in a fortnight.

Are they indeed( cried )li*abeth, with the greatest satisfaction.

#hey are going to be encamped near Brighton; and do so want papa totake us all there for the summer( t would be such a delicious scheme;and dare say would hardly cost anything at all. Mamma would like togo too of all things( 2nly think what a miserable summer else we shallhave(

/es, thought )li*abeth, 1that1 would be a delightful scheme indeed,and completely do for us at once. 9ood eaven( Brighton, and a wholecampful of soldiers, to us, who have been overset already by one poorregiment of militia, and the monthly balls of Meryton(

!ow have got some news for you, said "ydia, as they sat down at

table. 'hat do you think3 t is e$cellent news%%capital news%%and abouta certain person we all like(

5ane and )li*abeth looked at each other, and the waiter was told he neednot stay. "ydia laughed, and said4

Aye, that is +ust like your formality and discretion. /ou thought thewaiter must not hear, as if he cared( dare say he often hears worsethings said than am going to say. But he is an ugly fellow( am gladhe is gone. never saw such a long chin in my life. 'ell, but now for



my news; it is about dear 'ickham; too good for the waiter, is it not3#here is no danger of 'ickham6s marrying Mary 8ing. #here6s for you( Sheis gone down to her uncle at "iverpool4 gone to stay. 'ickham is safe.

And Mary 8ing is safe( added )li*abeth; safe from a connectionimprudent as to fortune.

She is a great fool for going away, if she liked him.

But hope there is no strong attachment on either side, said 5ane.

am sure there is not on 1his1. will answer for it, he never caredthree straws about her%%who could about such a nasty little freckledthing3

)li*abeth was shocked to think that, however incapable of suchcoarseness of 1e$pression1 herself, the coarseness of the 1sentiment1was little other than her own breast had harboured and fancied liberal(

As soon as all had ate, and the elder ones paid, the carriage was

ordered; and after some contrivance, the whole party, with all theirbo$es, work%bags, and parcels, and the unwelcome addition of 8itty6s and"ydia6s purchases, were seated in it.

ow nicely we are all crammed in, cried "ydia. am glad bought mybonnet, if it is only for the fun of having another bandbo$( 'ell, nowlet us be quite comfortable and snug, and talk and laugh all the wayhome. And in the first place, let us hear what has happened to you allsince you went away. ave you seen any pleasant men3 ave you had anyflirting3 was in great hopes that one of you would have got a husbandbefore you came back. 5ane will be quite an old maid soon, declare.She is almost three%and%twenty( "ord, how ashamed should be of notbeing married before three%and%twenty( My aunt =hillips wants you so toget husbands, you can6t think. She says "i**y had better have taken Mr.-ollins; but 11 do not think there would have been any fun in it. "ord(how should like to be married before any of you; and then wouldchaperon you about to all the balls. &ear me( we had such a good pieceof fun the other day at -olonel 7orster6s. 8itty and me were to spendthe day there, and Mrs. 7orster promised to have a little dance in theevening; Hby the bye, Mrs. 7orster and me are 1such1 friends(I and soshe asked the two arringtons to come, but arriet was ill, and so =enwas forced to come by herself; and then, what do you think we did3 'edressed up -hamberlayne in woman6s clothes on purpose to pass for alady, only think what fun( !ot a soul knew of it, but -olonel and Mrs.7orster, and 8itty and me, e$cept my aunt, for we were forced to borrowone of her gowns; and you cannot imagine how well he looked( 'hen &enny,and 'ickham, and =ratt, and two or three more of the men came in, they

did not know him in the least. "ord( how laughed( and so did Mrs.7orster. thought should have died. And 1that1 made the men suspectsomething, and then they soon found out what was the matter.

'ith such kinds of histories of their parties and good +okes, did"ydia, assisted by 8itty6s hints and additions, endeavour to amuse hercompanions all the way to "ongbourn. )li*abeth listened as little as shecould, but there was no escaping the frequent mention of 'ickham6s name.

#heir reception at home was most kind. Mrs. Bennet re+oiced to see 5ane



in undiminished beauty; and more than once during dinner did Mr. Bennetsay voluntarily to )li*abeth4

am glad you are come back, "i**y.

#heir party in the dining%room was large, for almost all the "ucasescame to meet Maria and hear the news; and various were the sub+ects thatoccupied them4 "ady "ucas was inquiring of Maria, after the welfare andpoultry of her eldest daughter; Mrs. Bennet was doubly engaged, on onehand collecting an account of the present fashions from 5ane, who satsome way below her, and, on the other, retailing them all to the younger"ucases; and "ydia, in a voice rather louder than any other person6s,was enumerating the various pleasures of the morning to anybody whowould hear her.

2h( Mary, said she, wish you had gone with us, for we had such fun(As we went along, 8itty and drew up the blinds, and pretended therewas nobody in the coach; and should have gone so all the way, if 8ittyhad not been sick; and when we got to the 9eorge, do think we behavedvery handsomely, for we treated the other three with the nicest cold

luncheon in the world, and if you would have gone, we would have treatedyou too. And then when we came away it was such fun( thought we nevershould have got into the coach. was ready to die of laughter. And thenwe were so merry all the way home( we talked and laughed so loud, thatanybody might have heard us ten miles off(

#o this Mary very gravely replied, 7ar be it from me, my dear sister,to depreciate such pleasures( #hey would doubtless be congenial with thegenerality of female minds. But confess they would have no charms for1me1%% should infinitely prefer a book.

But of this answer "ydia heard not a word. She seldom listened toanybody for more than half a minute, and never attended to Mary at all.

n the afternoon "ydia was urgent with the rest of the girls to walkto Meryton, and to see how everybody went on; but )li*abeth steadilyopposed the scheme. t should not be said that the Miss Bennets couldnot be at home half a day before they were in pursuit of the officers.#here was another reason too for her opposition. She dreaded seeing Mr.'ickham again, and was resolved to avoid it as long as possible. #hecomfort to 1her1 of the regiment6s approaching removal was indeed beyonde$pression. n a fortnight they were to go%%and once gone, she hopedthere could be nothing more to plague her on his account.

She had not been many hours at home before she found that the Brightonscheme, of which "ydia had given them a hint at the inn, was underfrequent discussion between her parents. )li*abeth saw directly that her

father had not the smallest intention of yielding; but his answers wereat the same time so vague and equivocal, that her mother, though oftendisheartened, had never yet despaired of succeeding at last.

-hapter :E

)li*abeth6s impatience to acquaint 5ane with what had happened could



no longer be overcome; and at length, resolving to suppress everyparticular in which her sister was concerned, and preparing her to besurprised, she related to her the ne$t morning the chief of the scenebetween Mr. &arcy and herself.

Miss Bennet6s astonishment was soon lessened by the strong sisterlypartiality which made any admiration of )li*abeth appear perfectlynatural; and all surprise was shortly lost in other feelings. She wassorry that Mr. &arcy should have delivered his sentiments in a manner solittle suited to recommend them; but still more was she grieved for theunhappiness which her sister6s refusal must have given him.

is being so sure of succeeding was wrong, said she, and certainlyought not to have appeared; but consider how much it must increase hisdisappointment(

ndeed, replied )li*abeth, am heartily sorry for him; but he hasother feelings, which will probably soon drive away his regard for me./ou do not blame me, however, for refusing him3

Blame you( 2h, no.

But you blame me for having spoken so warmly of 'ickham3

!o%% do not know that you were wrong in saying what you did.

But you 1will1 know it, when tell you what happened the very ne$tday.

She then spoke of the letter, repeating the whole of its contents as faras they concerned 9eorge 'ickham. 'hat a stroke was this for poor 5ane(who would willingly have gone through the world without believing thatso much wickedness e$isted in the whole race of mankind, as was herecollected in one individual. !or was &arcy6s vindication, thoughgrateful to her feelings, capable of consoling her for such discovery.Most earnestly did she labour to prove the probability of error, andseek to clear the one without involving the other.

#his will not do, said )li*abeth; you never will be able to make bothof them good for anything. #ake your choice, but you must be satisfiedwith only one. #here is but such a quantity of merit between them; +ustenough to make one good sort of man; and of late it has been shiftingabout pretty much. 7or my part, am inclined to believe it all &arcy6s;but you shall do as you choose.

t was some time, however, before a smile could be e$torted from 5ane.

do not know when have been more shocked, said she. 'ickham sovery bad( t is almost past belief. And poor Mr. &arcy( &ear "i**y, onlyconsider what he must have suffered. Such a disappointment( and with theknowledge of your ill opinion, too( and having to relate such a thingof his sister( t is really too distressing. am sure you must feel itso.

2h( no, my regret and compassion are all done away by seeing you sofull of both. know you will do him such ample +ustice, that amgrowing every moment more unconcerned and indifferent. /our profusion



makes me saving; and if you lament over him much longer, my heart willbe as light as a feather.

=oor 'ickham( there is such an e$pression of goodness in hiscountenance( such an openness and gentleness in his manner(

#here certainly was some great mismanagement in the education of thosetwo young men. 2ne has got all the goodness, and the other all theappearance of it.

never thought Mr. &arcy so deficient in the 1appearance1 of it as youused to do.

And yet meant to be uncommonly clever in taking so decided a disliketo him, without any reason. t is such a spur to one6s genius, such anopening for wit, to have a dislike of that kind. 2ne may be continuallyabusive without saying anything +ust; but one cannot always be laughingat a man without now and then stumbling on something witty.

"i**y, when you first read that letter, am sure you could not treat

the matter as you do now.

ndeed, could not. was uncomfortable enough, may say unhappy. Andwith no one to speak to about what felt, no 5ane to comfort me and saythat had not been so very weak and vain and nonsensical as knew had( 2h( how wanted you(

ow unfortunate that you should have used such very strong e$pressionsin speaking of 'ickham to Mr. &arcy, for now they 1do1 appear whollyundeserved.

-ertainly. But the misfortune of speaking with bitterness is a mostnatural consequence of the pre+udices had been encouraging. #hereis one point on which want your advice. want to be told whether ought, or ought not, to make our acquaintances in general understand'ickham6s character.

Miss Bennet paused a little, and then replied, Surely there can be nooccasion for e$posing him so dreadfully. 'hat is your opinion3

#hat it ought not to be attempted. Mr. &arcy has not authorised meto make his communication public. 2n the contrary, every particularrelative to his sister was meant to be kept as much as possible tomyself; and if endeavour to undeceive people as to the rest of hisconduct, who will believe me3 #he general pre+udice against Mr. &arcyis so violent, that it would be the death of half the good people inMeryton to attempt to place him in an amiable light. am not equal

to it. 'ickham will soon be gone; and therefore it will not signify toanyone here what he really is. Some time hence it will be all found out,and then we may laugh at their stupidity in not knowing it before. Atpresent will say nothing about it.

/ou are quite right. #o have his errors made public might ruin him forever. e is now, perhaps, sorry for what he has done, and an$ious tore%establish a character. 'e must not make him desperate.

#he tumult of )li*abeth6s mind was allayed by this conversation. She had



got rid of two of the secrets which had weighed on her for a fortnight,and was certain of a willing listener in 5ane, whenever she might wishto talk again of either. But there was still something lurking behind,of which prudence forbade the disclosure. She dared not relate the otherhalf of Mr. &arcy6s letter, nor e$plain to her sister how sincerely shehad been valued by her friend. ere was knowledge in which no onecould partake; and she was sensible that nothing less than a perfectunderstanding between the parties could +ustify her in throwing offthis last encumbrance of mystery. And then, said she, if that veryimprobable event should ever take place, shall merely be able totell what Bingley may tell in a much more agreeable manner himself. #heliberty of communication cannot be mine till it has lost all its value(

She was now, on being settled at home, at leisure to observe the realstate of her sister6s spirits. 5ane was not happy. She still cherished avery tender affection for Bingley. aving never even fancied herselfin love before, her regard had all the warmth of first attachment,and, from her age and disposition, greater steadiness than most firstattachments often boast; and so fervently did she value his remembrance,and prefer him to every other man, that all her good sense, and all her

attention to the feelings of her friends, were requisite to check theindulgence of those regrets which must have been in+urious to her ownhealth and their tranquillity.

'ell, "i**y, said Mrs. Bennet one day, what is your opinion 1now1 ofthis sad business of 5ane6s3 7or my part, am determined never to speakof it again to anybody. told my sister =hillips so the other day. But cannot find out that 5ane saw anything of him in "ondon. 'ell, he isa very undeserving young man%%and do not suppose there6s the leastchance in the world of her ever getting him now. #here is no talk ofhis coming to !etherfield again in the summer; and have inquired ofeverybody, too, who is likely to know.

do not believe he will ever live at !etherfield any more.

2h well( it is +ust as he chooses. !obody wants him to come. #hough shall always say he used my daughter e$tremely ill; and if was her, would not have put up with it. 'ell, my comfort is, am sure 5ane willdie of a broken heart; and then he will be sorry for what he has done.

But as )li*abeth could not receive comfort from any such e$pectation,she made no answer.

'ell, "i**y, continued her mother, soon afterwards, and so the-ollinses live very comfortable, do they3 'ell, well, only hopeit will last. And what sort of table do they keep3 -harlotte is ane$cellent manager, dare say. f she is half as sharp as her

mother, she is saving enough. #here is nothing e$travagant in 1their1housekeeping, dare say.

!o, nothing at all.

A great deal of good management, depend upon it. /es, yes, 1they1 willtake care not to outrun their income. 1#hey1 will never be distressedfor money. 'ell, much good may it do them( And so, suppose, they oftentalk of having "ongbourn when your father is dead. #hey look upon it asquite their own, dare say, whenever that happens.



t was a sub+ect which they could not mention before me.

!o; it would have been strange if they had; but make no doubt theyoften talk of it between themselves. 'ell, if they can be easy with anestate that is not lawfully their own, so much the better. should beashamed of having one that was only entailed on me.

-hapter :D

#he first week of their return was soon gone. #he second began. t wasthe last of the regiment6s stay in Meryton, and all the young ladiesin the neighbourhood were drooping apace. #he de+ection was almostuniversal. #he elder Miss Bennets alone were still able to eat, drink,and sleep, and pursue the usual course of their employments. >eryfrequently were they reproached for this insensibility by 8itty and"ydia, whose own misery was e$treme, and who could not comprehend such

hard%heartedness in any of the family.

9ood eaven( what is to become of us3 'hat are we to do3 would theyoften e$claim in the bitterness of woe. ow can you be smiling so,"i**y3

#heir affectionate mother shared all their grief; she remembered whatshe had herself endured on a similar occasion, five%and%twenty yearsago.

am sure, said she, cried for two days together when -olonelMiller6s regiment went away. thought should have broken my heart.

am sure shall break 1mine1, said "ydia.

f one could but go to Brighton( observed Mrs. Bennet.

2h, yes(%%if one could but go to Brighton( But papa is sodisagreeable.

A little sea%bathing would set me up forever.

And my aunt =hillips is sure it would do 1me1 a great deal of good,added 8itty.

Such were the kind of lamentations resounding perpetually through"ongbourn ouse. )li*abeth tried to be diverted by them; but all sense

of pleasure was lost in shame. She felt anew the +ustice of Mr. &arcy6sob+ections; and never had she been so much disposed to pardon hisinterference in the views of his friend.

But the gloom of "ydia6s prospect was shortly cleared away; for shereceived an invitation from Mrs. 7orster, the wife of the colonel ofthe regiment, to accompany her to Brighton. #his invaluable friend was avery young woman, and very lately married. A resemblance in good humourand good spirits had recommended her and "ydia to each other, and out oftheir 1three1 months6 acquaintance they had been intimate 1two1.



#he rapture of "ydia on this occasion, her adoration of Mrs. 7orster,the delight of Mrs. Bennet, and the mortification of 8itty, are scarcelyto be described. 'holly inattentive to her sister6s feelings, "ydiaflew about the house in restless ecstasy, calling for everyone6scongratulations, and laughing and talking with more violence than ever;whilst the luckless 8itty continued in the parlour repined at her fatein terms as unreasonable as her accent was peevish.

cannot see why Mrs. 7orster should not ask 1me1 as well as "ydia,said she, #hough am 1not1 her particular friend. have +ust as muchright to be asked as she has, and more too, for am two years older.

n vain did )li*abeth attempt to make her reasonable, and 5ane to makeher resigned. As for )li*abeth herself, this invitation was so far frome$citing in her the same feelings as in her mother and "ydia, that sheconsidered it as the death warrant of all possibility of common sensefor the latter; and detestable as such a step must make her were itknown, she could not help secretly advising her father not to let hergo. She represented to him all the improprieties of "ydia6s general

behaviour, the little advantage she could derive from the friendship ofsuch a woman as Mrs. 7orster, and the probability of her being yet moreimprudent with such a companion at Brighton, where the temptations mustbe greater than at home. e heard her attentively, and then said4

"ydia will never be easy until she has e$posed herself in some publicplace or other, and we can never e$pect her to do it with solittle e$pense or inconvenience to her family as under the presentcircumstances.

f you were aware, said )li*abeth, of the very great disadvantage tous all which must arise from the public notice of "ydia6s unguarded andimprudent manner%%nay, which has already arisen from it, am sure youwould +udge differently in the affair.

Already arisen3 repeated Mr. Bennet. 'hat, has she frightened awaysome of your lovers3 =oor little "i**y( But do not be cast down. Suchsqueamish youths as cannot bear to be connected with a little absurdityare not worth a regret. -ome, let me see the list of pitiful fellows whohave been kept aloof by "ydia6s folly.

ndeed you are mistaken. have no such in+uries to resent. t is notof particular, but of general evils, which am now complaining. 2urimportance, our respectability in the world must be affected by thewild volatility, the assurance and disdain of all restraint which mark"ydia6s character. )$cuse me, for must speak plainly. f you, my dearfather, will not take the trouble of checking her e$uberant spirits, and

of teaching her that her present pursuits are not to be the business ofher life, she will soon be beyond the reach of amendment. er characterwill be fi$ed, and she will, at si$teen, be the most determined flirtthat ever made herself or her family ridiculous; a flirt, too, in theworst and meanest degree of flirtation; without any attraction beyondyouth and a tolerable person; and, from the ignorance and emptinessof her mind, wholly unable to ward off any portion of that universalcontempt which her rage for admiration will e$cite. n this danger8itty also is comprehended. She will follow wherever "ydia leads. >ain,ignorant, idle, and absolutely uncontrolled( 2h( my dear father, can you



suppose it possible that they will not be censured and despised whereverthey are known, and that their sisters will not be often involved in thedisgrace3

Mr. Bennet saw that her whole heart was in the sub+ect, andaffectionately taking her hand said in reply4

&o not make yourself uneasy, my love. 'herever you and 5ane are knownyou must be respected and valued; and you will not appear to lessadvantage for having a couple of%%or may say, three%%very sillysisters. 'e shall have no peace at "ongbourn if "ydia does not go toBrighton. "et her go, then. -olonel 7orster is a sensible man, and willkeep her out of any real mischief; and she is luckily too poor to be anob+ect of prey to anybody. At Brighton she will be of less importanceeven as a common flirt than she has been here. #he officers will findwomen better worth their notice. "et us hope, therefore, that her beingthere may teach her her own insignificance. At any rate, she cannot growmany degrees worse, without authorising us to lock her up for the restof her life.

'ith this answer )li*abeth was forced to be content; but her own opinioncontinued the same, and she left him disappointed and sorry. t was notin her nature, however, to increase her ve$ations by dwelling onthem. She was confident of having performed her duty, and to fretover unavoidable evils, or augment them by an$iety, was no part of herdisposition.

ad "ydia and her mother known the substance of her conference with herfather, their indignation would hardly have found e$pression in theirunited volubility. n "ydia6s imagination, a visit to Brighton comprisedevery possibility of earthly happiness. She saw, with the creative eyeof fancy, the streets of that gay bathing%place covered with officers.She saw herself the ob+ect of attention, to tens and to scores of themat present unknown. She saw all the glories of the camp%%its tentsstretched forth in beauteous uniformity of lines, crowded with the youngand the gay, and da**ling with scarlet; and, to complete the view, shesaw herself seated beneath a tent, tenderly flirting with at least si$officers at once.

ad she known her sister sought to tear her from such prospects and suchrealities as these, what would have been her sensations3 #hey could havebeen understood only by her mother, who might have felt nearly the same."ydia6s going to Brighton was all that consoled her for her melancholyconviction of her husband6s never intending to go there himself.

But they were entirely ignorant of what had passed; and their rapturescontinued, with little intermission, to the very day of "ydia6s leaving

home.

)li*abeth was now to see Mr. 'ickham for the last time. aving beenfrequently in company with him since her return, agitation was prettywell over; the agitations of former partiality entirely so. She had evenlearnt to detect, in the very gentleness which had first delightedher, an affectation and a sameness to disgust and weary. n his presentbehaviour to herself, moreover, she had a fresh source of displeasure,for the inclination he soon testified of renewing those intentions whichhad marked the early part of their acquaintance could only serve, after



what had since passed, to provoke her. She lost all concern for him infinding herself thus selected as the ob+ect of such idle and frivolousgallantry; and while she steadily repressed it, could not but feel thereproof contained in his believing, that however long, and for whatevercause, his attentions had been withdrawn, her vanity would be gratified,and her preference secured at any time by their renewal.

2n the very last day of the regiment6s remaining at Meryton, he dined,with other of the officers, at "ongbourn; and so little was )li*abethdisposed to part from him in good humour, that on his making someinquiry as to the manner in which her time had passed at unsford, shementioned -olonel 7it*william6s and Mr. &arcy6s having both spent threeweeks at <osings, and asked him, if he was acquainted with the former.

e looked surprised, displeased, alarmed; but with a moment6srecollection and a returning smile, replied, that he had formerly seenhim often; and, after observing that he was a very gentlemanlike man,asked her how she had liked him. er answer was warmly in his favour.'ith an air of indifference he soon afterwards added4

ow long did you say he was at <osings3

!early three weeks.

And you saw him frequently3

/es, almost every day.

is manners are very different from his cousin6s.

/es, very different. But think Mr. &arcy improves upon acquaintance.

ndeed( cried Mr. 'ickham with a look which did not escape her. Andpray, may ask3%% But checking himself, he added, in a gayer tone, sit in address that he improves3 as he deigned to add aught of civilityto his ordinary style3%%for dare not hope, he continued in a lowerand more serious tone, that he is improved in essentials.

2h, no( said )li*abeth. n essentials, believe, he is very muchwhat he ever was.

'hile she spoke, 'ickham looked as if scarcely knowing whether tore+oice over her words, or to distrust their meaning. #here was asomething in her countenance which made him listen with an apprehensiveand an$ious attention, while she added4

'hen said that he improved on acquaintance, did not mean that

his mind or his manners were in a state of improvement, but that, fromknowing him better, his disposition was better understood.

'ickham6s alarm now appeared in a heightened comple$ion and agitatedlook; for a few minutes he was silent, till, shaking off hisembarrassment, he turned to her again, and said in the gentlest ofaccents4

/ou, who so well know my feeling towards Mr. &arcy, will readilycomprehend how sincerely must re+oice that he is wise enough to assume



even the 1appearance1 of what is right. is pride, in that direction,may be of service, if not to himself, to many others, for it must onlydeter him from such foul misconduct as have suffered by. onlyfear that the sort of cautiousness to which you, imagine, have beenalluding, is merely adopted on his visits to his aunt, of whose goodopinion and +udgement he stands much in awe. is fear of her has alwaysoperated, know, when they were together; and a good deal is to beimputed to his wish of forwarding the match with Miss de Bourgh, which am certain he has very much at heart.

)li*abeth could not repress a smile at this, but she answered only by aslight inclination of the head. She saw that he wanted to engage her onthe old sub+ect of his grievances, and she was in no humour to indulgehim. #he rest of the evening passed with the 1appearance1, on hisside, of usual cheerfulness, but with no further attempt to distinguish)li*abeth; and they parted at last with mutual civility, and possibly amutual desire of never meeting again.

'hen the party broke up, "ydia returned with Mrs. 7orster to Meryton,from whence they were to set out early the ne$t morning. #he separation

between her and her family was rather noisy than pathetic. 8itty was theonly one who shed tears; but she did weep from ve$ation and envy. Mrs.Bennet was diffuse in her good wishes for the felicity of her daughter,and impressive in her in+unctions that she should not miss theopportunity of en+oying herself as much as possible%%advice whichthere was every reason to believe would be well attended to; and inthe clamorous happiness of "ydia herself in bidding farewell, the moregentle adieus of her sisters were uttered without being heard.

-hapter :F

ad )li*abeth6s opinion been all drawn from her own family, she couldnot have formed a very pleasing opinion of con+ugal felicity or domesticcomfort. er father, captivated by youth and beauty, and that appearanceof good humour which youth and beauty generally give, had married awoman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind had very early intheir marriage put an end to all real affection for her. <espect,esteem, and confidence had vanished for ever; and all his viewsof domestic happiness were overthrown. But Mr. Bennet was not ofa disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his ownimprudence had brought on, in any of those pleasures which too oftenconsole the unfortunate for their folly or their vice. e was fond ofthe country and of books; and from these tastes had arisen his principalen+oyments. #o his wife he was very little otherwise indebted, than as

her ignorance and folly had contributed to his amusement. #his is notthe sort of happiness which a man would in general wish to owe to hiswife; but where other powers of entertainment are wanting, the truephilosopher will derive benefit from such as are given.

)li*abeth, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of herfather6s behaviour as a husband. She had always seen it with pain; butrespecting his abilities, and grateful for his affectionate treatment ofherself, she endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook, and tobanish from her thoughts that continual breach of con+ugal obligation



and decorum which, in e$posing his wife to the contempt of her ownchildren, was so highly reprehensible. But she had never felt sostrongly as now the disadvantages which must attend the children of sounsuitable a marriage, nor ever been so fully aware of the evils arisingfrom so ill%+udged a direction of talents; talents, which, rightly used,might at least have preserved the respectability of his daughters, evenif incapable of enlarging the mind of his wife.

'hen )li*abeth had re+oiced over 'ickham6s departure she found littleother cause for satisfaction in the loss of the regiment. #heir partiesabroad were less varied than before, and at home she had a mother andsister whose constant repinings at the dullness of everything aroundthem threw a real gloom over their domestic circle; and, though 8ittymight in time regain her natural degree of sense, since the disturbersof her brain were removed, her other sister, from whose dispositiongreater evil might be apprehended, was likely to be hardened in allher folly and assurance by a situation of such double danger as awatering%place and a camp. 0pon the whole, therefore, she found, whathas been sometimes found before, that an event to which she had beenlooking with impatient desire did not, in taking place, bring all the

satisfaction she had promised herself. t was consequently necessary toname some other period for the commencement of actual felicity%%to havesome other point on which her wishes and hopes might be fi$ed, and byagain en+oying the pleasure of anticipation, console herself for thepresent, and prepare for another disappointment. er tour to the "akeswas now the ob+ect of her happiest thoughts; it was her best consolationfor all the uncomfortable hours which the discontentedness of her motherand 8itty made inevitable; and could she have included 5ane in thescheme, every part of it would have been perfect.

But it is fortunate, thought she, that have something to wish for.'ere the whole arrangement complete, my disappointment would be certain.But here, by carrying with me one ceaseless source of regret in mysister6s absence, may reasonably hope to have all my e$pectations ofpleasure realised. A scheme of which every part promises delight cannever be successful; and general disappointment is only warded off bythe defence of some little peculiar ve$ation.

'hen "ydia went away she promised to write very often and very minutelyto her mother and 8itty; but her letters were always long e$pected, andalways very short. #hose to her mother contained little else than thatthey were +ust returned from the library, where such and such officershad attended them, and where she had seen such beautiful ornaments asmade her quite wild; that she had a new gown, or a new parasol, whichshe would have described more fully, but was obliged to leave off in aviolent hurry, as Mrs. 7orster called her, and they were going off tothe camp; and from her correspondence with her sister, there was still

less to be learnt%%for her letters to 8itty, though rather longer, weremuch too full of lines under the words to be made public.

After the first fortnight or three weeks of her absence, health, goodhumour, and cheerfulness began to reappear at "ongbourn. )verything worea happier aspect. #he families who had been in town for the winter cameback again, and summer finery and summer engagements arose. Mrs. Bennetwas restored to her usual querulous serenity; and, by the middle of5une, 8itty was so much recovered as to be able to enter Meryton withouttears; an event of such happy promise as to make )li*abeth hope that by



the following -hristmas she might be so tolerably reasonable as not tomention an officer above once a day, unless, by some cruel and maliciousarrangement at the 'ar 2ffice, another regiment should be quartered inMeryton.

#he time fi$ed for the beginning of their northern tour was now fastapproaching, and a fortnight only was wanting of it, when a letterarrived from Mrs. 9ardiner, which at once delayed its commencement andcurtailed its e$tent. Mr. 9ardiner would be prevented by business fromsetting out till a fortnight later in 5uly, and must be in "ondon againwithin a month, and as that left too short a period for them to go sofar, and see so much as they had proposed, or at least to see it withthe leisure and comfort they had built on, they were obliged to give upthe "akes, and substitute a more contracted tour, and, according to thepresent plan, were to go no farther northwards than &erbyshire. n thatcounty there was enough to be seen to occupy the chief of their threeweeks; and to Mrs. 9ardiner it had a peculiarly strong attraction. #hetown where she had formerly passed some years of her life, and wherethey were now to spend a few days, was probably as great an ob+ect ofher curiosity as all the celebrated beauties of Matlock, -hatsworth,

&ovedale, or the =eak.

)li*abeth was e$cessively disappointed; she had set her heart on seeingthe "akes, and still thought there might have been time enough. But itwas her business to be satisfied%%and certainly her temper to be happy;and all was soon right again.

'ith the mention of &erbyshire there were many ideas connected. t wasimpossible for her to see the word without thinking of =emberley and itsowner. But surely, said she, may enter his county with impunity,and rob it of a few petrified spars without his perceiving me.

#he period of e$pectation was now doubled. 7our weeks were to pass awaybefore her uncle and aunt6s arrival. But they did pass away, and Mr.and Mrs. 9ardiner, with their four children, did at length appear at"ongbourn. #he children, two girls of si$ and eight years old, and twoyounger boys, were to be left under the particular care of theircousin 5ane, who was the general favourite, and whose steady sense andsweetness of temper e$actly adapted her for attending to them in everyway%%teaching them, playing with them, and loving them.

#he 9ardiners stayed only one night at "ongbourn, and set off thene$t morning with )li*abeth in pursuit of novelty and amusement.2ne en+oyment was certain%%that of suitableness of companions;a suitableness which comprehended health and temper to bearinconveniences%%cheerfulness to enhance every pleasure%%and affectionand intelligence, which might supply it among themselves if there were

disappointments abroad.

t is not the ob+ect of this work to give a description of &erbyshire,nor of any of the remarkable places through which their route thitherlay; 2$ford, Blenheim, 'arwick, 8enilworth, Birmingham, etc. aresufficiently known. A small part of &erbyshire is all the presentconcern. #o the little town of "ambton, the scene of Mrs. 9ardiner6sformer residence, and where she had lately learned some acquaintancestill remained, they bent their steps, after having seen all theprincipal wonders of the country; and within five miles of "ambton,



)li*abeth found from her aunt that =emberley was situated. t was notin their direct road, nor more than a mile or two out of it. ntalking over their route the evening before, Mrs. 9ardiner e$pressedan inclination to see the place again. Mr. 9ardiner declared hiswillingness, and )li*abeth was applied to for her approbation.

My love, should not you like to see a place of which you have heardso much3 said her aunt; a place, too, with which so many of youracquaintances are connected. 'ickham passed all his youth there, youknow.

)li*abeth was distressed. She felt that she had no business at=emberley, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it. Shemust own that she was tired of seeing great houses; after going over somany, she really had no pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains.

Mrs. 9ardiner abused her stupidity. f it were merely a fine houserichly furnished, said she, should not care about it myself; butthe grounds are delightful. #hey have some of the finest woods in thecountry.

)li*abeth said no more%%but her mind could not acquiesce. #hepossibility of meeting Mr. &arcy, while viewing the place, instantlyoccurred. t would be dreadful( She blushed at the very idea, andthought it would be better to speak openly to her aunt than to run sucha risk. But against this there were ob+ections; and she finally resolvedthat it could be the last resource, if her private inquiries to theabsence of the family were unfavourably answered.

Accordingly, when she retired at night, she asked the chambermaidwhether =emberley were not a very fine place3 what was the name of itsproprietor3 and, with no little alarm, whether the family were down forthe summer3 A most welcome negative followed the last question%%and heralarms now being removed, she was at leisure to feel a great deal ofcuriosity to see the house herself; and when the sub+ect was revived thene$t morning, and she was again applied to, could readily answer, andwith a proper air of indifference, that she had not really any disliketo the scheme. #o =emberley, therefore, they were to go.

-hapter :G

)li*abeth, as they drove along, watched for the first appearance of=emberley 'oods with some perturbation; and when at length they turnedin at the lodge, her spirits were in a high flutter.

#he park was very large, and contained great variety of ground. #heyentered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time througha beautiful wood stretching over a wide e$tent.

)li*abeth6s mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admiredevery remarkable spot and point of view. #hey gradually ascended forhalf%a%mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerableeminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by=emberley ouse, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which



the road with some abruptness wound. t was a large, handsome stonebuilding, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge ofhigh woody hills; and in front, a stream of some natural importance wasswelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. ts bankswere neither formal nor falsely adorned. )li*abeth was delighted. Shehad never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where naturalbeauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. #hey wereall of them warm in their admiration; and at that moment she felt thatto be mistress of =emberley might be something(

#hey descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door; and,while e$amining the nearer aspect of the house, all her apprehension ofmeeting its owner returned. She dreaded lest the chambermaid had beenmistaken. 2n applying to see the place, they were admitted into thehall; and )li*abeth, as they waited for the housekeeper, had leisure towonder at her being where she was.

#he housekeeper came; a respectable%looking elderly woman, much lessfine, and more civil, than she had any notion of finding her. #heyfollowed her into the dining%parlour. t was a large, well proportioned

room, handsomely fitted up. )li*abeth, after slightly surveying it, wentto a window to en+oy its prospect. #he hill, crowned with wood, whichthey had descended, receiving increased abruptness from the distance,was a beautiful ob+ect. )very disposition of the ground was good; andshe looked on the whole scene, the river, the trees scattered on itsbanks and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace it,with delight. As they passed into other rooms these ob+ects were takingdifferent positions; but from every window there were beauties to beseen. #he rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable tothe fortune of its proprietor; but )li*abeth saw, with admiration ofhis taste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine; with less ofsplendour, and more real elegance, than the furniture of <osings.

And of this place, thought she, might have been mistress( 'iththese rooms might now have been familiarly acquainted( nstead ofviewing them as a stranger, might have re+oiced in them as my own, andwelcomed to them as visitors my uncle and aunt. But no,%%recollectingherself%%that could never be; my uncle and aunt would have been lost tome; should not have been allowed to invite them.

#his was a lucky recollection%%it saved her from something very likeregret.

She longed to inquire of the housekeeper whether her master was reallyabsent, but had not the courage for it. At length however, the questionwas asked by her uncle; and she turned away with alarm, while Mrs.<eynolds replied that he was, adding, But we e$pect him to%morrow, with

a large party of friends. ow re+oiced was )li*abeth that their own+ourney had not by any circumstance been delayed a day(

er aunt now called her to look at a picture. She approached and saw thelikeness of Mr. 'ickham, suspended, amongst several other miniatures,over the mantelpiece. er aunt asked her, smilingly, how she liked it.#he housekeeper came forward, and told them it was a picture of a younggentleman, the son of her late master6s steward, who had been broughtup by him at his own e$pense. e is now gone into the army, she added;but am afraid he has turned out very wild.



Mrs. 9ardiner looked at her niece with a smile, but )li*abeth could notreturn it.

And that, said Mrs. <eynolds, pointing to another of the miniatures,is my master%%and very like him. t was drawn at the same time as theother%%about eight years ago.

have heard much of your master6s fine person, said Mrs. 9ardiner,looking at the picture; it is a handsome face. But, "i**y, you can tellus whether it is like or not.

Mrs. <eynolds respect for )li*abeth seemed to increase on thisintimation of her knowing her master.

&oes that young lady know Mr. &arcy3

)li*abeth coloured, and said4 A little.

And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, ma6am3

/es, very handsome.

am sure know none so handsome; but in the gallery up stairs youwill see a finer, larger picture of him than this. #his room was my latemaster6s favourite room, and these miniatures are +ust as they used tobe then. e was very fond of them.

#his accounted to )li*abeth for Mr. 'ickham6s being among them.

Mrs. <eynolds then directed their attention to one of Miss &arcy, drawnwhen she was only eight years old.

And is Miss &arcy as handsome as her brother3 said Mrs. 9ardiner.

2h( yes%%the handsomest young lady that ever was seen; and soaccomplished(%%She plays and sings all day long. n the ne$t room isa new instrument +ust come down for her%%a present from my master; shecomes here to%morrow with him.

Mr. 9ardiner, whose manners were very easy and pleasant, encouraged hercommunicativeness by his questions and remarks; Mrs. <eynolds, eitherby pride or attachment, had evidently great pleasure in talking of hermaster and his sister.

s your master much at =emberley in the course of the year3

!ot so much as could wish, sir; but dare say he may spend half histime here; and Miss &arcy is always down for the summer months.

)$cept, thought )li*abeth, when she goes to <amsgate.

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

/es, sir; but do not know when 1that1 will be. do not know who isgood enough for him.



Mr. and Mrs. 9ardiner smiled. )li*abeth could not help saying, t isvery much to his credit, am sure, that you should think so.

say no more than the truth, and everybody will say that knows him,replied the other. )li*abeth thought this was going pretty far; and shelistened with increasing astonishment as the housekeeper added, havenever known a cross word from him in my life, and have known him eversince he was four years old.

#his was praise, of all others most e$traordinary, most opposite to herideas. #hat he was not a good%tempered man had been her firmest opinion.er keenest attention was awakened; she longed to hear more, and wasgrateful to her uncle for saying4

#here are very few people of whom so much can be said. /ou are lucky inhaving such a master.

/es, sir, know am. f were to go through the world, couldnot meet with a better. But have always observed, that they who aregood%natured when children, are good%natured when they grow up; and

he was always the sweetest%tempered, most generous%hearted boy in theworld.

)li*abeth almost stared at her. -an this be Mr. &arcy3 thought she.

is father was an e$cellent man, said Mrs. 9ardiner.

/es, ma6am, that he was indeed; and his son will be +ust like him%%+ustas affable to the poor.

)li*abeth listened, wondered, doubted, and was impatient for more. Mrs.<eynolds could interest her on no other point. She related the sub+ectsof the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of thefurniture, in vain. Mr. 9ardiner, highly amused by the kind of familypre+udice to which he attributed her e$cessive commendation of hermaster, soon led again to the sub+ect; and she dwelt with energy on hismany merits as they proceeded together up the great staircase.

e is the best landlord, and the best master, said she, that everlived; not like the wild young men nowadays, who think of nothing butthemselves. #here is not one of his tenants or servants but will givehim a good name. Some people call him proud; but am sure never sawanything of it. #o my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle awaylike other young men.

n what an amiable light does this place him( thought )li*abeth.

#his fine account of him, whispered her aunt as they walked, is notquite consistent with his behaviour to our poor friend.

=erhaps we might be deceived.

#hat is not very likely; our authority was too good.

2n reaching the spacious lobby above they were shown into a very prettysitting%room, lately fitted up with greater elegance and lightness thanthe apartments below; and were informed that it was but +ust done to



give pleasure to Miss &arcy, who had taken a liking to the room whenlast at =emberley.

e is certainly a good brother, said )li*abeth, as she walked towardsone of the windows.

Mrs. <eynolds anticipated Miss &arcy6s delight, when she should enterthe room. And this is always the way with him, she added. 'hatevercan give his sister any pleasure is sure to be done in a moment. #hereis nothing he would not do for her.

#he picture%gallery, and two or three of the principal bedrooms, wereall that remained to be shown. n the former were many good paintings;but )li*abeth knew nothing of the art; and from such as had been alreadyvisible below, she had willingly turned to look at some drawings of Miss&arcy6s, in crayons, whose sub+ects were usually more interesting, andalso more intelligible.

n the gallery there were many family portraits, but they could havelittle to fi$ the attention of a stranger. )li*abeth walked in quest of

the only face whose features would be known to her. At last it arrestedher%%and she beheld a striking resemblance to Mr. &arcy, with such asmile over the face as she remembered to have sometimes seen when helooked at her. She stood several minutes before the picture, in earnestcontemplation, and returned to it again before they quitted the gallery.Mrs. <eynolds informed them that it had been taken in his father6slifetime.

#here was certainly at this moment, in )li*abeth6s mind, a more gentlesensation towards the original than she had ever felt at the height oftheir acquaintance. #he commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. <eynoldswas of no trifling nature. 'hat praise is more valuable than the praiseof an intelligent servant3 As a brother, a landlord, a master, sheconsidered how many people6s happiness were in his guardianship(%%howmuch of pleasure or pain was it in his power to bestow(%%how much ofgood or evil must be done by him( )very idea that had been broughtforward by the housekeeper was favourable to his character, and as shestood before the canvas on which he was represented, and fi$ed hiseyes upon herself, she thought of his regard with a deeper sentiment ofgratitude than it had ever raised before; she remembered its warmth, andsoftened its impropriety of e$pression.

'hen all of the house that was open to general inspection had been seen,they returned downstairs, and, taking leave of the housekeeper, wereconsigned over to the gardener, who met them at the hall%door.

As they walked across the hall towards the river, )li*abeth turned back

to look again; her uncle and aunt stopped also, and while the formerwas con+ecturing as to the date of the building, the owner of it himselfsuddenly came forward from the road, which led behind it to the stables.

#hey were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt was hisappearance, that it was impossible to avoid his sight. #heir eyesinstantly met, and the cheeks of both were overspread with the deepestblush. e absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immovable fromsurprise; but shortly recovering himself, advanced towards the party,and spoke to )li*abeth, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least



of perfect civility.

She had instinctively turned away; but stopping on his approach,received his compliments with an embarrassment impossible to beovercome. ad his first appearance, or his resemblance to the picturethey had +ust been e$amining, been insufficient to assure the other twothat they now saw Mr. &arcy, the gardener6s e$pression of surprise, onbeholding his master, must immediately have told it. #hey stood a littlealoof while he was talking to their niece, who, astonished and confused,scarcely dared lift her eyes to his face, and knew not what answershe returned to his civil inquiries after her family. Ama*ed at thealteration of his manner since they last parted, every sentence thathe uttered was increasing her embarrassment; and every idea of theimpropriety of her being found there recurring to her mind, the fewminutes in which they continued were some of the most uncomfortable inher life. !or did he seem much more at ease; when he spoke, his accenthad none of its usual sedateness; and he repeated his inquiries asto the time of her having left "ongbourn, and of her having stayed in&erbyshire, so often, and in so hurried a way, as plainly spoke thedistraction of his thoughts.

At length every idea seemed to fail him; and, after standing a fewmoments without saying a word, he suddenly recollected himself, and tookleave.

#he others then +oined her, and e$pressed admiration of his figure; but)li*abeth heard not a word, and wholly engrossed by her own feelings,followed them in silence. She was overpowered by shame and ve$ation. ercoming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill%+udged thing in theworld( ow strange it must appear to him( n what a disgraceful lightmight it not strike so vain a man( t might seem as if she had purposelythrown herself in his way again( 2h( why did she come3 2r, why did hethus come a day before he was e$pected3 ad they been only ten minutessooner, they should have been beyond the reach of his discrimination;for it was plain that he was that moment arrived%%that moment alightedfrom his horse or his carriage. She blushed again and again overthe perverseness of the meeting. And his behaviour, so strikinglyaltered%%what could it mean3 #hat he should even speak to her wasama*ing(%%but to speak with such civility, to inquire after her family(!ever in her life had she seen his manners so little dignified, neverhad he spoken with such gentleness as on this une$pected meeting. 'hata contrast did it offer to his last address in <osings =ark, when he puthis letter into her hand( She knew not what to think, or how to accountfor it.

#hey had now entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water, andevery step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or a finer

reach of the woods to which they were approaching; but it was some timebefore )li*abeth was sensible of any of it; and, though she answeredmechanically to the repeated appeals of her uncle and aunt, andseemed to direct her eyes to such ob+ects as they pointed out, shedistinguished no part of the scene. er thoughts were all fi$ed on thatone spot of =emberley ouse, whichever it might be, where Mr. &arcy thenwas. She longed to know what at the moment was passing in his mind%%inwhat manner he thought of her, and whether, in defiance of everything,she was still dear to him. =erhaps he had been civil only because hefelt himself at ease; yet there had been 1that1 in his voice which was



not like ease. 'hether he had felt more of pain or of pleasure inseeing her she could not tell, but he certainly had not seen her withcomposure.

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

#hey entered the woods, and bidding adieu to the river for a while,ascended some of the higher grounds; when, in spots where the opening ofthe trees gave the eye power to wander, were many charming views of thevalley, the opposite hills, with the long range of woods overspreadingmany, and occasionally part of the stream. Mr. 9ardiner e$pressed a wishof going round the whole park, but feared it might be beyond a walk.'ith a triumphant smile they were told that it was ten miles round.t settled the matter; and they pursued the accustomed circuit; whichbrought them again, after some time, in a descent among hanging woods,to the edge of the water, and one of its narrowest parts. #hey crossedit by a simple bridge, in character with the general air of the scene;it was a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited; and thevalley, here contracted into a glen, allowed room only for the stream,

and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice%wood which bordered it.)li*abeth longed to e$plore its windings; but when they had crossed thebridge, and perceived their distance from the house, Mrs. 9ardiner,who was not a great walker, could go no farther, and thought onlyof returning to the carriage as quickly as possible. er niece was,therefore, obliged to submit, and they took their way towards the houseon the opposite side of the river, in the nearest direction; but theirprogress was slow, for Mr. 9ardiner, though seldom able to indulge thetaste, was very fond of fishing, and was so much engaged in watching theoccasional appearance of some trout in the water, and talking to theman about them, that he advanced but little. 'hilst wandering on in thisslow manner, they were again surprised, and )li*abeth6s astonishmentwas quite equal to what it had been at first, by the sight of Mr. &arcyapproaching them, and at no great distance. #he walk being hereless sheltered than on the other side, allowed them to see him beforethey met. )li*abeth, however astonished, was at least more preparedfor an interview than before, and resolved to appear and to speak withcalmness, if he really intended to meet them. 7or a few moments, indeed,she felt that he would probably strike into some other path. #he idealasted while a turning in the walk concealed him from their view; theturning past, he was immediately before them. 'ith a glance, she sawthat he had lost none of his recent civility; and, to imitate hispoliteness, she began, as they met, to admire the beauty of the place;but she had not got beyond the words delightful, and charming, whensome unlucky recollections obtruded, and she fancied that praise of=emberley from her might be mischievously construed. er colour changed,and she said no more.

Mrs. 9ardiner was standing a little behind; and on her pausing, he askedher if she would do him the honour of introducing him to her friends.#his was a stroke of civility for which she was quite unprepared;and she could hardly suppress a smile at his being now seeking theacquaintance of some of those very people against whom his pride hadrevolted in his offer to herself. 'hat will be his surprise, thoughtshe, when he knows who they are3 e takes them now for people offashion.



#he introduction, however, was immediately made; and as she named theirrelationship to herself, she stole a sly look at him, to see how he boreit, and was not without the e$pectation of his decamping as fast as hecould from such disgraceful companions. #hat he was 1surprised1 by theconnection was evident; he sustained it, however, with fortitude, andso far from going away, turned back with them, and entered intoconversation with Mr. 9ardiner. )li*abeth could not but be pleased,could not but triumph. t was consoling that he should know she hadsome relations for whom there was no need to blush. She listened mostattentively to all that passed between them, and gloried in everye$pression, every sentence of her uncle, which marked his intelligence,his taste, or his good manners.

#he conversation soon turned upon fishing; and she heard Mr. &arcyinvite him, with the greatest civility, to fish there as often as hechose while he continued in the neighbourhood, offering at the same timeto supply him with fishing tackle, and pointing out those parts ofthe stream where there was usually most sport. Mrs. 9ardiner, who waswalking arm%in%arm with )li*abeth, gave her a look e$pressive of wonder.)li*abeth said nothing, but it gratified her e$ceedingly; the compliment

must be all for herself. er astonishment, however, was e$treme, andcontinually was she repeating, 'hy is he so altered3 7rom what canit proceed3 t cannot be for 1me1%%it cannot be for 1my1 sake that hismanners are thus softened. My reproofs at unsford could not work such achange as this. t is impossible that he should still love me.

After walking some time in this way, the two ladies in front, the twogentlemen behind, on resuming their places, after descending tothe brink of the river for the better inspection of some curiouswater%plant, there chanced to be a little alteration. t originatedin Mrs. 9ardiner, who, fatigued by the e$ercise of the morning, found)li*abeth6s arm inadequate to her support, and consequently preferredher husband6s. Mr. &arcy took her place by her niece, and they walked ontogether. After a short silence, the lady first spoke. She wished himto know that she had been assured of his absence before she came to theplace, and accordingly began by observing, that his arrival had beenvery une$pected%%for your housekeeper, she added, informed us thatyou would certainly not be here till to%morrow; and indeed, before weleft Bakewell, we understood that you were not immediately e$pectedin the country. e acknowledged the truth of it all, and said thatbusiness with his steward had occasioned his coming forward a few hoursbefore the rest of the party with whom he had been travelling. #heywill +oin me early to%morrow, he continued, and among them are somewho will claim an acquaintance with you%%Mr. Bingley and his sisters.

)li*abeth answered only by a slight bow. er thoughts were instantlydriven back to the time when Mr. Bingley6s name had been the last

mentioned between them; and, if she might +udge by his comple$ion, 1his1mind was not very differently engaged.

#here is also one other person in the party, he continued after apause, who more particularly wishes to be known to you. 'ill you allowme, or do ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintanceduring your stay at "ambton3

#he surprise of such an application was great indeed; it was too greatfor her to know in what manner she acceded to it. She immediately felt



that whatever desire Miss &arcy might have of being acquainted with hermust be the work of her brother, and, without looking farther, it wassatisfactory; it was gratifying to know that his resentment had not madehim think really ill of her.

#hey now walked on in silence, each of them deep in thought. )li*abethwas not comfortable; that was impossible; but she was flattered andpleased. is wish of introducing his sister to her was a compliment ofthe highest kind. #hey soon outstripped the others, and when they hadreached the carriage, Mr. and Mrs. 9ardiner were half a quarter of amile behind.

e then asked her to walk into the house%%but she declared herself nottired, and they stood together on the lawn. At such a time much mighthave been said, and silence was very awkward. She wanted to talk, butthere seemed to be an embargo on every sub+ect. At last she recollectedthat she had been travelling, and they talked of Matlock and &ove &alewith great perseverance. /et time and her aunt moved slowly%%and herpatience and her ideas were nearly worn out before the tete%a%tete wasover. 2n Mr. and Mrs. 9ardiner6s coming up they were all pressed to go

into the house and take some refreshment; but this was declined, andthey parted on each side with utmost politeness. Mr. &arcy handed theladies into the carriage; and when it drove off, )li*abeth saw himwalking slowly towards the house.

#he observations of her uncle and aunt now began; and each of thempronounced him to be infinitely superior to anything they had e$pected.e is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming, said her uncle.

#here 1is1 something a little stately in him, to be sure, replied heraunt, but it is confined to his air, and is not unbecoming. can nowsay with the housekeeper, that though some people may call him proud, have seen nothing of it.

was never more surprised than by his behaviour to us. t was morethan civil; it was really attentive; and there was no necessity for suchattention. is acquaintance with )li*abeth was very trifling.

#o be sure, "i**y, said her aunt, he is not so handsome as 'ickham;or, rather, he has not 'ickham6s countenance, for his featuresare perfectly good. But how came you to tell me that he was sodisagreeable3

)li*abeth e$cused herself as well as she could; said that she had likedhim better when they had met in 8ent than before, and that she had neverseen him so pleasant as this morning.

But perhaps he may be a little whimsical in his civilities, repliedher uncle. /our great men often are; and therefore shall not take himat his word, as he might change his mind another day, and warn me offhis grounds.

)li*abeth felt that they had entirely misunderstood his character, butsaid nothing.

7rom what we have seen of him, continued Mrs. 9ardiner, reallyshould not have thought that he could have behaved in so cruel a way by



anybody as he has done by poor 'ickham. e has not an ill%natured look.2n the contrary, there is something pleasing about his mouth when hespeaks. And there is something of dignity in his countenance that wouldnot give one an unfavourable idea of his heart. But, to be sure, thegood lady who showed us his house did give him a most flaming character( could hardly help laughing aloud sometimes. But he is a liberalmaster, suppose, and 1that1 in the eye of a servant comprehends everyvirtue.

)li*abeth here felt herself called on to say something in vindication ofhis behaviour to 'ickham; and therefore gave them to understand, inas guarded a manner as she could, that by what she had heard fromhis relations in 8ent, his actions were capable of a very differentconstruction; and that his character was by no means so faulty, nor'ickham6s so amiable, as they had been considered in ertfordshire. nconfirmation of this, she related the particulars of all the pecuniarytransactions in which they had been connected, without actually namingher authority, but stating it to be such as might be relied on.

Mrs. 9ardiner was surprised and concerned; but as they were now

approaching the scene of her former pleasures, every idea gave way tothe charm of recollection; and she was too much engaged in pointing outto her husband all the interesting spots in its environs to think ofanything else. 7atigued as she had been by the morning6s walk theyhad no sooner dined than she set off again in quest of her formeracquaintance, and the evening was spent in the satisfactions of aintercourse renewed after many years6 discontinuance.

#he occurrences of the day were too full of interest to leave )li*abethmuch attention for any of these new friends; and she could do nothingbut think, and think with wonder, of Mr. &arcy6s civility, and, aboveall, of his wishing her to be acquainted with his sister.

-hapter ::

)li*abeth had settled it that Mr. &arcy would bring his sister to visither the very day after her reaching =emberley; and was consequentlyresolved not to be out of sight of the inn the whole of that morning.But her conclusion was false; for on the very morning after theirarrival at "ambton, these visitors came. #hey had been walking about theplace with some of their new friends, and were +ust returning to the innto dress themselves for dining with the same family, when the sound of acarriage drew them to a window, and they saw a gentleman and a lady ina curricle driving up the street. )li*abeth immediately recogni*ing

the livery, guessed what it meant, and imparted no small degree of hersurprise to her relations by acquainting them with the honour which shee$pected. er uncle and aunt were all ama*ement; and the embarrassmentof her manner as she spoke, +oined to the circumstance itself, and manyof the circumstances of the preceding day, opened to them a new idea onthe business. !othing had ever suggested it before, but they felt thatthere was no other way of accounting for such attentions from such aquarter than by supposing a partiality for their niece. 'hile thesenewly%born notions were passing in their heads, the perturbation of)li*abeth6s feelings was at every moment increasing. She was quite



ama*ed at her own discomposure; but amongst other causes of disquiet,she dreaded lest the partiality of the brother should have said too muchin her favour; and, more than commonly an$ious to please, she naturallysuspected that every power of pleasing would fail her.

She retreated from the window, fearful of being seen; and as she walkedup and down the room, endeavouring to compose herself, saw such looks ofinquiring surprise in her uncle and aunt as made everything worse.

Miss &arcy and her brother appeared, and this formidable introductiontook place. 'ith astonishment did )li*abeth see that her newacquaintance was at least as much embarrassed as herself. Since herbeing at "ambton, she had heard that Miss &arcy was e$ceedingly proud;but the observation of a very few minutes convinced her that she wasonly e$ceedingly shy. She found it difficult to obtain even a word fromher beyond a monosyllable.

Miss &arcy was tall, and on a larger scale than )li*abeth; and, thoughlittle more than si$teen, her figure was formed, and her appearancewomanly and graceful. She was less handsome than her brother; but there

was sense and good humour in her face, and her manners were perfectlyunassuming and gentle. )li*abeth, who had e$pected to find in her asacute and unembarrassed an observer as ever Mr. &arcy had been, was muchrelieved by discerning such different feelings.

#hey had not long been together before Mr. &arcy told her that Bingleywas also coming to wait on her; and she had barely time to e$press hersatisfaction, and prepare for such a visitor, when Bingley6s quickstep was heard on the stairs, and in a moment he entered the room. All)li*abeth6s anger against him had been long done away; but had she stillfelt any, it could hardly have stood its ground against the unaffectedcordiality with which he e$pressed himself on seeing her again. einquired in a friendly, though general way, after her family, and lookedand spoke with the same good%humoured ease that he had ever done.

#o Mr. and Mrs. 9ardiner he was scarcely a less interesting personagethan to herself. #hey had long wished to see him. #he whole party beforethem, indeed, e$cited a lively attention. #he suspicions which had +ustarisen of Mr. &arcy and their niece directed their observation towardseach with an earnest though guarded inquiry; and they soon drew fromthose inquiries the full conviction that one of them at least knewwhat it was to love. 2f the lady6s sensations they remained a littlein doubt; but that the gentleman was overflowing with admiration wasevident enough.

)li*abeth, on her side, had much to do. She wanted to ascertain thefeelings of each of her visitors; she wanted to compose her own, and

to make herself agreeable to all; and in the latter ob+ect, where shefeared most to fail, she was most sure of success, for those to whom sheendeavoured to give pleasure were prepossessed in her favour. Bingleywas ready, 9eorgiana was eager, and &arcy determined, to be pleased.

n seeing Bingley, her thoughts naturally flew to her sister; and, oh(how ardently did she long to know whether any of his were directed ina like manner. Sometimes she could fancy that he talked less than onformer occasions, and once or twice pleased herself with the notionthat, as he looked at her, he was trying to trace a resemblance. But,



though this might be imaginary, she could not be deceived as to hisbehaviour to Miss &arcy, who had been set up as a rival to 5ane. !o lookappeared on either side that spoke particular regard. !othing occurredbetween them that could +ustify the hopes of his sister. 2n this pointshe was soon satisfied; and two or three little circumstances occurredere they parted, which, in her an$ious interpretation, denoted arecollection of 5ane not untinctured by tenderness, and a wish of sayingmore that might lead to the mention of her, had he dared. e observedto her, at a moment when the others were talking together, and in a tonewhich had something of real regret, that it was a very long time sincehe had had the pleasure of seeing her; and, before she could reply,he added, t is above eight months. 'e have not met since the F?th of!ovember, when we were all dancing together at !etherfield.

)li*abeth was pleased to find his memory so e$act; and he afterwardstook occasion to ask her, when unattended to by any of the rest, whether1all1 her sisters were at "ongbourn. #here was not much in the question,nor in the preceding remark; but there was a look and a manner whichgave them meaning.

t was not often that she could turn her eyes on Mr. &arcy himself;but, whenever she did catch a glimpse, she saw an e$pression of generalcomplaisance, and in all that he said she heard an accent so removedfrom 1hauteur1 or disdain of his companions, as convinced her thatthe improvement of manners which she had yesterday witnessed howevertemporary its e$istence might prove, had at least outlived one day. 'henshe saw him thus seeking the acquaintance and courting the good opinionof people with whom any intercourse a few months ago would have been adisgrace%%when she saw him thus civil, not only to herself, but to thevery relations whom he had openly disdained, and recollected their lastlively scene in unsford =arsonage%%the difference, the change wasso great, and struck so forcibly on her mind, that she could hardlyrestrain her astonishment from being visible. !ever, even in the companyof his dear friends at !etherfield, or his dignified relationsat <osings, had she seen him so desirous to please, so free fromself%consequence or unbending reserve, as now, when no importancecould result from the success of his endeavours, and when even theacquaintance of those to whom his attentions were addressed would drawdown the ridicule and censure of the ladies both of !etherfield and<osings.

#heir visitors stayed with them above half%an%hour; and when they aroseto depart, Mr. &arcy called on his sister to +oin him in e$pressingtheir wish of seeing Mr. and Mrs. 9ardiner, and Miss Bennet, to dinnerat =emberley, before they left the country. Miss &arcy, though with adiffidence which marked her little in the habit of giving invitations,readily obeyed. Mrs. 9ardiner looked at her niece, desirous of knowing

how 1she1, whom the invitation most concerned, felt disposed as to itsacceptance, but )li*abeth had turned away her head. =resuming however,that this studied avoidance spoke rather a momentary embarrassment thanany dislike of the proposal, and seeing in her husband, who was fond ofsociety, a perfect willingness to accept it, she ventured to engage forher attendance, and the day after the ne$t was fi$ed on.

Bingley e$pressed great pleasure in the certainty of seeing )li*abethagain, having still a great deal to say to her, and many inquiries tomake after all their ertfordshire friends. )li*abeth, construing all



this into a wish of hearing her speak of her sister, was pleased, and onthis account, as well as some others, found herself, when theirvisitors left them, capable of considering the last half%hour with somesatisfaction, though while it was passing, the en+oyment of it had beenlittle. )ager to be alone, and fearful of inquiries or hints from heruncle and aunt, she stayed with them only long enough to hear theirfavourable opinion of Bingley, and then hurried away to dress.

But she had no reason to fear Mr. and Mrs. 9ardiner6s curiosity; it wasnot their wish to force her communication. t was evident that she wasmuch better acquainted with Mr. &arcy than they had before any idea of;it was evident that he was very much in love with her. #hey saw much tointerest, but nothing to +ustify inquiry.

2f Mr. &arcy it was now a matter of an$iety to think well; and, as faras their acquaintance reached, there was no fault to find. #hey couldnot be untouched by his politeness; and had they drawn his characterfrom their own feelings and his servant6s report, without any referenceto any other account, the circle in ertfordshire to which he was knownwould not have recogni*ed it for Mr. &arcy. #here was now an interest,

however, in believing the housekeeper; and they soon became sensiblethat the authority of a servant who had known him since he was fouryears old, and whose own manners indicated respectability, was not to behastily re+ected. !either had anything occurred in the intelligence oftheir "ambton friends that could materially lessen its weight. #hey hadnothing to accuse him of but pride; pride he probably had, and if not,it would certainly be imputed by the inhabitants of a small market%townwhere the family did not visit. t was acknowledged, however, that hewas a liberal man, and did much good among the poor.

'ith respect to 'ickham, the travellers soon found that he was not heldthere in much estimation; for though the chief of his concerns with theson of his patron were imperfectly understood, it was yet a well%knownfact that, on his quitting &erbyshire, he had left many debts behindhim, which Mr. &arcy afterwards discharged.

As for )li*abeth, her thoughts were at =emberley this evening more thanthe last; and the evening, though as it passed it seemed long, was notlong enough to determine her feelings towards 1one1 in that mansion;and she lay awake two whole hours endeavouring to make them out. Shecertainly did not hate him. !o; hatred had vanished long ago, and shehad almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him,that could be so called. #he respect created by the conviction of hisvaluable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for sometime ceased to be repugnant to her feeling; and it was now heightenedinto somewhat of a friendlier nature, by the testimony so highly inhis favour, and bringing forward his disposition in so amiable a light,

which yesterday had produced. But above all, above respect and esteem,there was a motive within her of goodwill which could not be overlooked.t was gratitude; gratitude, not merely for having once loved her,but for loving her still well enough to forgive all the petulance andacrimony of her manner in re+ecting him, and all the un+ust accusationsaccompanying her re+ection. e who, she had been persuaded, would avoidher as his greatest enemy, seemed, on this accidental meeting, mosteager to preserve the acquaintance, and without any indelicate displayof regard, or any peculiarity of manner, where their two selves onlywere concerned, was soliciting the good opinion of her friends, and bent



on making her known to his sister. Such a change in a man of so muchpride e$citing not only astonishment but gratitude%%for to love, ardentlove, it must be attributed; and as such its impression on her was of asort to be encouraged, as by no means unpleasing, though it could not bee$actly defined. She respected, she esteemed, she was grateful to him,she felt a real interest in his welfare; and she only wanted to know howfar she wished that welfare to depend upon herself, and how far it wouldbe for the happiness of both that she should employ the power, which herfancy told her she still possessed, of bringing on her the renewal ofhis addresses.

t had been settled in the evening between the aunt and the niece, thatsuch a striking civility as Miss &arcy6s in coming to see them on thevery day of her arrival at =emberley, for she had reached it only to alate breakfast, ought to be imitated, though it could not be equalled,by some e$ertion of politeness on their side; and, consequently, thatit would be highly e$pedient to wait on her at =emberley the followingmorning. #hey were, therefore, to go. )li*abeth was pleased; though whenshe asked herself the reason, she had very little to say in reply.

Mr. 9ardiner left them soon after breakfast. #he fishing scheme had beenrenewed the day before, and a positive engagement made of his meetingsome of the gentlemen at =emberley before noon.

-hapter :

-onvinced as )li*abeth now was that Miss Bingley6s dislike of her hadoriginated in +ealousy, she could not help feeling how unwelcome herappearance at =emberley must be to her, and was curious to know with howmuch civility on that lady6s side the acquaintance would now be renewed.

2n reaching the house, they were shown through the hall into the saloon,whose northern aspect rendered it delightful for summer. ts windowsopening to the ground, admitted a most refreshing view of the high woodyhills behind the house, and of the beautiful oaks and Spanish chestnutswhich were scattered over the intermediate lawn.

n this house they were received by Miss &arcy, who was sitting therewith Mrs. urst and Miss Bingley, and the lady with whom she lived in"ondon. 9eorgiana6s reception of them was very civil, but attended withall the embarrassment which, though proceeding from shyness and the fearof doing wrong, would easily give to those who felt themselves inferiorthe belief of her being proud and reserved. Mrs. 9ardiner and her niece,however, did her +ustice, and pitied her.

By Mrs. urst and Miss Bingley they were noticed only by a curtsey; and,on their being seated, a pause, awkward as such pauses must always be,succeeded for a few moments. t was first broken by Mrs. Annesley, agenteel, agreeable%looking woman, whose endeavour to introduce some kindof discourse proved her to be more truly well%bred than either of theothers; and between her and Mrs. 9ardiner, with occasional help from)li*abeth, the conversation was carried on. Miss &arcy looked as if shewished for courage enough to +oin in it; and sometimes did venture ashort sentence when there was least danger of its being heard.



)li*abeth soon saw that she was herself closely watched by Miss Bingley,and that she could not speak a word, especially to Miss &arcy, withoutcalling her attention. #his observation would not have prevented herfrom trying to talk to the latter, had they not been seated at aninconvenient distance; but she was not sorry to be spared the necessityof saying much. er own thoughts were employing her. She e$pected everymoment that some of the gentlemen would enter the room. She wished, shefeared that the master of the house might be amongst them; and whethershe wished or feared it most, she could scarcely determine. Aftersitting in this manner a quarter of an hour without hearing MissBingley6s voice, )li*abeth was roused by receiving from her a coldinquiry after the health of her family. She answered with equalindifference and brevity, and the other said no more.

#he ne$t variation which their visit afforded was produced by theentrance of servants with cold meat, cake, and a variety of all thefinest fruits in season; but this did not take place till after manya significant look and smile from Mrs. Annesley to Miss &arcy had beengiven, to remind her of her post. #here was now employment for the whole

party%%for though they could not all talk, they could all eat; and thebeautiful pyramids of grapes, nectarines, and peaches soon collectedthem round the table.

'hile thus engaged, )li*abeth had a fair opportunity of deciding whethershe most feared or wished for the appearance of Mr. &arcy, by thefeelings which prevailed on his entering the room; and then, though buta moment before she had believed her wishes to predominate, she began toregret that he came.

e had been some time with Mr. 9ardiner, who, with two or three othergentlemen from the house, was engaged by the river, and had left himonly on learning that the ladies of the family intended a visit to9eorgiana that morning. !o sooner did he appear than )li*abeth wiselyresolved to be perfectly easy and unembarrassed; a resolution the morenecessary to be made, but perhaps not the more easily kept, because shesaw that the suspicions of the whole party were awakened against them,and that there was scarcely an eye which did not watch his behaviourwhen he first came into the room. n no countenance was attentivecuriosity so strongly marked as in Miss Bingley6s, in spite of thesmiles which overspread her face whenever she spoke to one of itsob+ects; for +ealousy had not yet made her desperate, and her attentionsto Mr. &arcy were by no means over. Miss &arcy, on her brother6sentrance, e$erted herself much more to talk, and )li*abeth saw that hewas an$ious for his sister and herself to get acquainted, and forwardedas much as possible, every attempt at conversation on either side. MissBingley saw all this likewise; and, in the imprudence of anger, took the

first opportunity of saying, with sneering civility4

=ray, Miss )li*a, are not the %%%%shire Militia removed from Meryton3#hey must be a great loss to 1your1 family.

n &arcy6s presence she dared not mention 'ickham6s name; but )li*abethinstantly comprehended that he was uppermost in her thoughts; and thevarious recollections connected with him gave her a moment6s distress;but e$erting herself vigorously to repel the ill%natured attack, shepresently answered the question in a tolerably detached tone. 'hile



she spoke, an involuntary glance showed her &arcy, with a heightenedcomple$ion, earnestly looking at her, and his sister overcome withconfusion, and unable to lift up her eyes. ad Miss Bingley known whatpain she was then giving her beloved friend, she undoubtedly wouldhave refrained from the hint; but she had merely intended to discompose)li*abeth by bringing forward the idea of a man to whom she believedher partial, to make her betray a sensibility which might in+ure her in&arcy6s opinion, and, perhaps, to remind the latter of all the folliesand absurdities by which some part of her family were connectedwith that corps. !ot a syllable had ever reached her of Miss &arcy6smeditated elopement. #o no creature had it been revealed, where secrecywas possible, e$cept to )li*abeth; and from all Bingley6s connectionsher brother was particularly an$ious to conceal it, from the verywish which )li*abeth had long ago attributed to him, of their becominghereafter her own. e had certainly formed such a plan, and withoutmeaning that it should affect his endeavour to separate him from MissBennet, it is probable that it might add something to his lively concernfor the welfare of his friend.

)li*abeth6s collected behaviour, however, soon quieted his emotion; and

as Miss Bingley, ve$ed and disappointed, dared not approach nearer to'ickham, 9eorgiana also recovered in time, though not enough to be ableto speak any more. er brother, whose eye she feared to meet, scarcelyrecollected her interest in the affair, and the very circumstance whichhad been designed to turn his thoughts from )li*abeth seemed to havefi$ed them on her more and more cheerfully.

#heir visit did not continue long after the question and answer abovementioned; and while Mr. &arcy was attending them to their carriage MissBingley was venting her feelings in criticisms on )li*abeth6s person,behaviour, and dress. But 9eorgiana would not +oin her. er brother6srecommendation was enough to ensure her favour; his +udgement could noterr. And he had spoken in such terms of )li*abeth as to leave 9eorgianawithout the power of finding her otherwise than lovely and amiable. 'hen&arcy returned to the saloon, Miss Bingley could not help repeating tohim some part of what she had been saying to his sister.

ow very ill Miss )li*a Bennet looks this morning, Mr. &arcy, shecried; never in my life saw anyone so much altered as she is sincethe winter. She is grown so brown and coarse( "ouisa and were agreeingthat we should not have known her again.

owever little Mr. &arcy might have liked such an address, he contentedhimself with coolly replying that he perceived no other alteration thanher being rather tanned, no miraculous consequence of travelling in thesummer.

7or my own part, she re+oined, must confess that never couldsee any beauty in her. er face is too thin; her comple$ion has nobrilliancy; and her features are not at all handsome. er nosewants character%%there is nothing marked in its lines. er teeth aretolerable, but not out of the common way; and as for her eyes,which have sometimes been called so fine, could never see anythinge$traordinary in them. #hey have a sharp, shrewish look, which donot like at all; and in her air altogether there is a self%sufficiencywithout fashion, which is intolerable.



=ersuaded as Miss Bingley was that &arcy admired )li*abeth, this was notthe best method of recommending herself; but angry people are not alwayswise; and in seeing him at last look somewhat nettled, she had all thesuccess she e$pected. e was resolutely silent, however, and, from adetermination of making him speak, she continued4

remember, when we first knew her in ertfordshire, how ama*ed we allwere to find that she was a reputed beauty; and particularly recollectyour saying one night, after they had been dining at !etherfield, 61She1a beauty(%% should as soon call her mother a wit.6 But afterwards sheseemed to improve on you, and believe you thought her rather pretty atone time.

/es, replied &arcy, who could contain himself no longer, but 1that1was only when first saw her, for it is many months since haveconsidered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.

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

Mrs. 9ardiner and )li*abeth talked of all that had occurred during theirvisit, as they returned, e$cept what had particularly interested themboth. #he look and behaviour of everybody they had seen were discussed,e$cept of the person who had mostly engaged their attention. #hey talkedof his sister, his friends, his house, his fruit%%of everything buthimself; yet )li*abeth was longing to know what Mrs. 9ardiner thought ofhim, and Mrs. 9ardiner would have been highly gratified by her niece6sbeginning the sub+ect.

-hapter :?

)li*abeth had been a good deal disappointed in not finding a letter from5ane on their first arrival at "ambton; and this disappointment had beenrenewed on each of the mornings that had now been spent there; buton the third her repining was over, and her sister +ustified, by thereceipt of two letters from her at once, on one of which was marked thatit had been missent elsewhere. )li*abeth was not surprised at it, as5ane had written the direction remarkably ill.

#hey had +ust been preparing to walk as the letters came in; andher uncle and aunt, leaving her to en+oy them in quiet, set off bythemselves. #he one missent must first be attended to; it had beenwritten five days ago. #he beginning contained an account of all theirlittle parties and engagements, with such news as the country afforded;

but the latter half, which was dated a day later, and written in evidentagitation, gave more important intelligence. t was to this effect4

Since writing the above, dearest "i**y, something has occurred of amost une$pected and serious nature; but am afraid of alarming you%%beassured that we are all well. 'hat have to say relates to poor "ydia.An e$press came at twelve last night, +ust as we were all gone to bed,from -olonel 7orster, to inform us that she was gone off to Scotlandwith one of his officers; to own the truth, with 'ickham( magine oursurprise. #o 8itty, however, it does not seem so wholly une$pected. am



very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides( But am willingto hope the best, and that his character has been misunderstood.#houghtless and indiscreet can easily believe him, but this stepHand let us re+oice over itI marks nothing bad at heart. is choice isdisinterested at least, for he must know my father can give her nothing.2ur poor mother is sadly grieved. My father bears it better. owthankful am that we never let them know what has been said againsthim; we must forget it ourselves. #hey were off Saturday night abouttwelve, as is con+ectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning ateight. #he e$press was sent off directly. My dear "i**y, they must havepassed within ten miles of us. -olonel 7orster gives us reason to e$pecthim here soon. "ydia left a few lines for his wife, informing her oftheir intention. must conclude, for cannot be long from my poormother. am afraid you will not be able to make it out, but hardlyknow what have written.

'ithout allowing herself time for consideration, and scarcely knowingwhat she felt, )li*abeth on finishing this letter instantly sei*ed theother, and opening it with the utmost impatience, read as follows4 ithad been written a day later than the conclusion of the first.

By this time, my dearest sister, you have received my hurried letter; wish this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, myhead is so bewildered that cannot answer for being coherent. &earest"i**y, hardly know what would write, but have bad news for you,and it cannot be delayed. mprudent as the marriage between Mr. 'ickhamand our poor "ydia would be, we are now an$ious to be assured it hastaken place, for there is but too much reason to fear they are not goneto Scotland. -olonel 7orster came yesterday, having left Brighton theday before, not many hours after the e$press. #hough "ydia6s shortletter to Mrs. 7. gave them to understand that they were going to 9retna9reen, something was dropped by &enny e$pressing his belief that '.never intended to go there, or to marry "ydia at all, which wasrepeated to -olonel 7., who, instantly taking the alarm, set off from B.intending to trace their route. e did trace them easily to -lapham,but no further; for on entering that place, they removed into a hackneycoach, and dismissed the chaise that brought them from )psom. All thatis known after this is, that they were seen to continue the "ondon road. know not what to think. After making every possible inquiry on thatside "ondon, -olonel 7. came on into ertfordshire, an$iously renewingthem at all the turnpikes, and at the inns in Barnet and atfield, butwithout any success%%no such people had been seen to pass through. 'iththe kindest concern he came on to "ongbourn, and broke his apprehensionsto us in a manner most creditable to his heart. am sincerely grievedfor him and Mrs. 7., but no one can throw any blame on them. 2urdistress, my dear "i**y, is very great. My father and mother believe theworst, but cannot think so ill of him. Many circumstances might make

it more eligible for them to be married privately in town than to pursuetheir first plan; and even if 1he1 could form such a design against ayoung woman of "ydia6s connections, which is not likely, can supposeher so lost to everything3 mpossible( grieve to find, however, that-olonel 7. is not disposed to depend upon their marriage; he shook hishead when e$pressed my hopes, and said he feared '. was not a man tobe trusted. My poor mother is really ill, and keeps her room. -ould shee$ert herself, it would be better; but this is not to be e$pected. Andas to my father, never in my life saw him so affected. =oor 8itty hasanger for having concealed their attachment; but as it was a matter of



confidence, one cannot wonder. am truly glad, dearest "i**y, that youhave been spared something of these distressing scenes; but now, as thefirst shock is over, shall own that long for your return3 am notso selfish, however, as to press for it, if inconvenient. Adieu( take up my pen again to do what have +ust told you would not; butcircumstances are such that cannot help earnestly begging you all tocome here as soon as possible. know my dear uncle and aunt so well,that am not afraid of requesting it, though have still somethingmore to ask of the former. My father is going to "ondon with -olonel7orster instantly, to try to discover her. 'hat he means to do am sure know not; but his e$cessive distress will not allow him to pursue anymeasure in the best and safest way, and -olonel 7orster is obliged tobe at Brighton again to%morrow evening. n such an e$igence, myuncle6s advice and assistance would be everything in the world; he willimmediately comprehend what must feel, and rely upon his goodness.

2h( where, where is my uncle3 cried )li*abeth, darting from her seatas she finished the letter, in eagerness to follow him, without losinga moment of the time so precious; but as she reached the door it wasopened by a servant, and Mr. &arcy appeared. er pale face and impetuous

manner made him start, and before he could recover himself to speak,she, in whose mind every idea was superseded by "ydia6s situation,hastily e$claimed, beg your pardon, but must leave you. must findMr. 9ardiner this moment, on business that cannot be delayed; have notan instant to lose.

9ood 9od( what is the matter3 cried he, with more feeling thanpoliteness; then recollecting himself, will not detain you a minute;but let me, or let the servant go after Mr. and Mrs. 9ardiner. /ou arenot well enough; you cannot go yourself.

)li*abeth hesitated, but her knees trembled under her and she felt howlittle would be gained by her attempting to pursue them. -alling backthe servant, therefore, she commissioned him, though in so breathlessan accent as made her almost unintelligible, to fetch his master andmistress home instantly.

2n his quitting the room she sat down, unable to support herself, andlooking so miserably ill, that it was impossible for &arcy to leave her,or to refrain from saying, in a tone of gentleness and commiseration,"et me call your maid. s there nothing you could take to give youpresent relief3 A glass of wine; shall get you one3 /ou are very ill.

!o, thank you, she replied, endeavouring to recover herself. #hereis nothing the matter with me. am quite well; am only distressed bysome dreadful news which have +ust received from "ongbourn.

She burst into tears as she alluded to it, and for a few minutes couldnot speak another word. &arcy, in wretched suspense, could only saysomething indistinctly of his concern, and observe her in compassionatesilence. At length she spoke again. have +ust had a letter from 5ane,with such dreadful news. t cannot be concealed from anyone. My youngersister has left all her friends%%has eloped; has thrown herself intothe power of%%of Mr. 'ickham. #hey are gone off together from Brighton.1/ou1 know him too well to doubt the rest. She has no money, noconnections, nothing that can tempt him to%%she is lost for ever.



e readily assured her of his secrecy; again e$pressed his sorrow forher distress, wished it a happier conclusion than there was at presentreason to hope, and leaving his compliments for her relations, with onlyone serious, parting look, went away.

As he quitted the room, )li*abeth felt how improbable it was that theyshould ever see each other again on such terms of cordiality ashad marked their several meetings in &erbyshire; and as she threw aretrospective glance over the whole of their acquaintance, so fullof contradictions and varieties, sighed at the perverseness of thosefeelings which would now have promoted its continuance, and wouldformerly have re+oiced in its termination.

f gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection, )li*abeth6schange of sentiment will be neither improbable nor faulty. But ifotherwise%%if regard springing from such sources is unreasonable orunnatural, in comparison of what is so often described as arising ona first interview with its ob+ect, and even before two words have beene$changed, nothing can be said in her defence, e$cept that she had givensomewhat of a trial to the latter method in her partiality for 'ickham,

and that its ill success might, perhaps, authorise her to seek the otherless interesting mode of attachment. Be that as it may, she saw himgo with regret; and in this early e$ample of what "ydia6s infamy mustproduce, found additional anguish as she reflected on that wretchedbusiness. !ever, since reading 5ane6s second letter, had she entertaineda hope of 'ickham6s meaning to marry her. !o one but 5ane, she thought,could flatter herself with such an e$pectation. Surprise was the leastof her feelings on this development. 'hile the contents of the firstletter remained in her mind, she was all surprise%%all astonishment that'ickham should marry a girl whom it was impossible he could marryfor money; and how "ydia could ever have attached him had appearedincomprehensible. But now it was all too natural. 7or such an attachmentas this she might have sufficient charms; and though she did not suppose"ydia to be deliberately engaging in an elopement without the intentionof marriage, she had no difficulty in believing that neither her virtuenor her understanding would preserve her from falling an easy prey.

She had never perceived, while the regiment was in ertfordshire, that"ydia had any partiality for him; but she was convinced that "ydiawanted only encouragement to attach herself to anybody. Sometimes oneofficer, sometimes another, had been her favourite, as their attentionsraised them in her opinion. er affections had continually beenfluctuating but never without an ob+ect. #he mischief of neglect andmistaken indulgence towards such a girl%%oh( how acutely did she nowfeel it(

She was wild to be at home%%to hear, to see, to be upon the spot to

share with 5ane in the cares that must now fall wholly upon her, in afamily so deranged, a father absent, a mother incapable of e$ertion, andrequiring constant attendance; and though almost persuaded that nothingcould be done for "ydia, her uncle6s interference seemed of the utmostimportance, and till he entered the room her impatience was severe. Mr.and Mrs. 9ardiner had hurried back in alarm, supposing by the servant6saccount that their niece was taken suddenly ill; but satisfying theminstantly on that head, she eagerly communicated the cause of theirsummons, reading the two letters aloud, and dwelling on the postscriptof the last with trembling energy.%%#hough "ydia had never been a



favourite with them, Mr. and Mrs. 9ardiner could not but be deeplyafflicted. !ot "ydia only, but all were concerned in it; and after thefirst e$clamations of surprise and horror, Mr. 9ardiner promised everyassistance in his power. )li*abeth, though e$pecting no less, thankedhim with tears of gratitude; and all three being actuated by one spirit,everything relating to their +ourney was speedily settled. #hey were tobe off as soon as possible. But what is to be done about =emberley3cried Mrs. 9ardiner. 5ohn told us Mr. &arcy was here when you sent forus; was it so3

/es; and told him we should not be able to keep our engagement.1#hat1 is all settled.

'hat is all settled3 repeated the other, as she ran into her room toprepare. And are they upon such terms as for her to disclose the realtruth3 2h, that knew how it was(

But wishes were vain, or at least could only serve to amuse her in thehurry and confusion of the following hour. ad )li*abeth been at leisureto be idle, she would have remained certain that all employment was

impossible to one so wretched as herself; but she had her share ofbusiness as well as her aunt, and amongst the rest there were notes tobe written to all their friends at "ambton, with false e$cuses for theirsudden departure. An hour, however, saw the whole completed; and Mr.9ardiner meanwhile having settled his account at the inn, nothingremained to be done but to go; and )li*abeth, after all the misery ofthe morning, found herself, in a shorter space of time than she couldhave supposed, seated in the carriage, and on the road to "ongbourn.

-hapter :@

have been thinking it over again, )li*abeth, said her uncle, as theydrove from the town; and really, upon serious consideration, am muchmore inclined than was to +udge as your eldest sister does on thematter. t appears to me so very unlikely that any young man shouldform such a design against a girl who is by no means unprotected orfriendless, and who was actually staying in his colonel6s family, that am strongly inclined to hope the best. -ould he e$pect that her friendswould not step forward3 -ould he e$pect to be noticed again by theregiment, after such an affront to -olonel 7orster3 is temptation isnot adequate to the risk(

&o you really think so3 cried )li*abeth, brightening up for a moment.

0pon my word, said Mrs. 9ardiner, begin to be of your uncle6sopinion. t is really too great a violation of decency, honour, andinterest, for him to be guilty of. cannot think so very ill of'ickham. -an you yourself, "i**y, so wholly give him up, as to believehim capable of it3

!ot, perhaps, of neglecting his own interest; but of every otherneglect can believe him capable. f, indeed, it should be so( But dare not hope it. 'hy should they not go on to Scotland if that had beenthe case3



n the first place, replied Mr. 9ardiner, there is no absolute proofthat they are not gone to Scotland.

2h( but their removing from the chaise into a hackney coach is sucha presumption( And, besides, no traces of them were to be found on theBarnet road.

'ell, then%%supposing them to be in "ondon. #hey may be there, thoughfor the purpose of concealment, for no more e$ceptional purpose. t isnot likely that money should be very abundant on either side; and itmight strike them that they could be more economically, though lesse$peditiously, married in "ondon than in Scotland.

But why all this secrecy3 'hy any fear of detection3 'hy must theirmarriage be private3 2h, no, no%%this is not likely. is most particularfriend, you see by 5ane6s account, was persuaded of his never intendingto marry her. 'ickham will never marry a woman without some money. ecannot afford it. And what claims has "ydia%%what attraction has shebeyond youth, health, and good humour that could make him, for her sake,

forego every chance of benefiting himself by marrying well3 As to whatrestraint the apprehensions of disgrace in the corps might throw on adishonourable elopement with her, am not able to +udge; for knownothing of the effects that such a step might produce. But as to yourother ob+ection, am afraid it will hardly hold good. "ydia hasno brothers to step forward; and he might imagine, from my father6sbehaviour, from his indolence and the little attention he has everseemed to give to what was going forward in his family, that 1he1 woulddo as little, and think as little about it, as any father could do, insuch a matter.

But can you think that "ydia is so lost to everything but love of himas to consent to live with him on any terms other than marriage3

t does seem, and it is most shocking indeed, replied )li*abeth, withtears in her eyes, that a sister6s sense of decency and virtue in sucha point should admit of doubt. But, really, know not what to say.=erhaps am not doing her +ustice. But she is very young; she has neverbeen taught to think on serious sub+ects; and for the last half%year,nay, for a twelvemonth%%she has been given up to nothing but amusementand vanity. She has been allowed to dispose of her time in the most idleand frivolous manner, and to adopt any opinions that came in her way.Since the %%%%shire were first quartered in Meryton, nothing but love,flirtation, and officers have been in her head. She has been doingeverything in her power by thinking and talking on the sub+ect, to givegreater%%what shall call it3 susceptibility to her feelings; which arenaturally lively enough. And we all know that 'ickham has every charm of

person and address that can captivate a woman.

But you see that 5ane, said her aunt, does not think so very ill of'ickham as to believe him capable of the attempt.

2f whom does 5ane ever think ill3 And who is there, whatever might betheir former conduct, that she would think capable of such an attempt,till it were proved against them3 But 5ane knows, as well as do, what'ickham really is. 'e both know that he has been profligate in everysense of the word; that he has neither integrity nor honour; that he is



as false and deceitful as he is insinuating.

And do you really know all this3 cried Mrs. 9ardiner, whose curiosityas to the mode of her intelligence was all alive.

do indeed, replied )li*abeth, colouring. told you, the other day,of his infamous behaviour to Mr. &arcy; and you yourself, when last at"ongbourn, heard in what manner he spoke of the man who had behavedwith such forbearance and liberality towards him. And there are othercircumstances which am not at liberty%%which it is not worth while torelate; but his lies about the whole =emberley family are endless. 7romwhat he said of Miss &arcy was thoroughly prepared to see a proud,reserved, disagreeable girl. /et he knew to the contrary himself. emust know that she was as amiable and unpretending as we have foundher.

But does "ydia know nothing of this3 can she be ignorant of what youand 5ane seem so well to understand3

2h, yes(%%that, that is the worst of all. #ill was in 8ent, and saw

so much both of Mr. &arcy and his relation -olonel 7it*william, wasignorant of the truth myself. And when returned home, the %%%%shirewas to leave Meryton in a week or fortnight6s time. As that was thecase, neither 5ane, to whom related the whole, nor , thought itnecessary to make our knowledge public; for of what use couldit apparently be to any one, that the good opinion which all theneighbourhood had of him should then be overthrown3 And even when it wassettled that "ydia should go with Mrs. 7orster, the necessity of openingher eyes to his character never occurred to me. #hat 1she1 could bein any danger from the deception never entered my head. #hat such aconsequence as 1this1 could ensue, you may easily believe, was farenough from my thoughts.

'hen they all removed to Brighton, therefore, you had no reason, suppose, to believe them fond of each other3

!ot the slightest. can remember no symptom of affection on eitherside; and had anything of the kind been perceptible, you must be awarethat ours is not a family on which it could be thrown away. 'hen firsthe entered the corps, she was ready enough to admire him; but so we allwere. )very girl in or near Meryton was out of her senses about him forthe first two months; but he never distinguished 1her1 by any particularattention; and, consequently, after a moderate period of e$travagant andwild admiration, her fancy for him gave way, and others of the regiment,who treated her with more distinction, again became her favourites.

J J J J J

t may be easily believed, that however little of novelty could be addedto their fears, hopes, and con+ectures, on this interesting sub+ect, byits repeated discussion, no other could detain them from it long, duringthe whole of the +ourney. 7rom )li*abeth6s thoughts it was never absent.7i$ed there by the keenest of all anguish, self%reproach, she could findno interval of ease or forgetfulness.

#hey travelled as e$peditiously as possible, and, sleeping one nighton the road, reached "ongbourn by dinner time the ne$t day. t was a



comfort to )li*abeth to consider that 5ane could not have been weariedby long e$pectations.

#he little 9ardiners, attracted by the sight of a chaise, were standingon the steps of the house as they entered the paddock; and, when thecarriage drove up to the door, the +oyful surprise that lighted up theirfaces, and displayed itself over their whole bodies, in a variety ofcapers and frisks, was the first pleasing earnest of their welcome.

)li*abeth +umped out; and, after giving each of them a hasty kiss,hurried into the vestibule, where 5ane, who came running down from hermother6s apartment, immediately met her.

)li*abeth, as she affectionately embraced her, whilst tears filled theeyes of both, lost not a moment in asking whether anything had beenheard of the fugitives.

!ot yet, replied 5ane. But now that my dear uncle is come, hopeeverything will be well.

s my father in town3

/es, he went on #uesday, as wrote you word.

And have you heard from him often3

'e have heard only twice. e wrote me a few lines on 'ednesday to saythat he had arrived in safety, and to give me his directions, which particularly begged him to do. e merely added that he should not writeagain till he had something of importance to mention.

And my mother%%how is she3 ow are you all3

My mother is tolerably well, trust; though her spirits are greatlyshaken. She is up stairs and will have great satisfaction in seeing youall. She does not yet leave her dressing%room. Mary and 8itty, thankeaven, are quite well.

But you%%how are you3 cried )li*abeth. /ou look pale. ow much youmust have gone through(

er sister, however, assured her of her being perfectly well; and theirconversation, which had been passing while Mr. and Mrs. 9ardiner wereengaged with their children, was now put an end to by the approachof the whole party. 5ane ran to her uncle and aunt, and welcomed andthanked them both, with alternate smiles and tears.

'hen they were all in the drawing%room, the questions which )li*abethhad already asked were of course repeated by the others, and they soonfound that 5ane had no intelligence to give. #he sanguine hope ofgood, however, which the benevolence of her heart suggested had not yetdeserted her; she still e$pected that it would all end well, and thatevery morning would bring some letter, either from "ydia or her father,to e$plain their proceedings, and, perhaps, announce their marriage.

Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few minutes6conversation together, received them e$actly as might be e$pected; with



tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villainousconduct of 'ickham, and complaints of her own sufferings and ill%usage;blaming everybody but the person to whose ill%+udging indulgence theerrors of her daughter must principally be owing.

f had been able, said she, to carry my point in going to Brighton,with all my family, 1this1 would not have happened; but poor dear "ydiahad nobody to take care of her. 'hy did the 7orsters ever let her go outof their sight3 am sure there was some great neglect or other on theirside, for she is not the kind of girl to do such a thing if she had beenwell looked after. always thought they were very unfit to have thecharge of her; but was overruled, as always am. =oor dear child(And now here6s Mr. Bennet gone away, and know he will fight 'ickham,wherever he meets him and then he will be killed, and what is to becomeof us all3 #he -ollinses will turn us out before he is cold in hisgrave, and if you are not kind to us, brother, do not know what weshall do.

#hey all e$claimed against such terrific ideas; and Mr. 9ardiner, aftergeneral assurances of his affection for her and all her family, told her

that he meant to be in "ondon the very ne$t day, and would assist Mr.Bennet in every endeavour for recovering "ydia.

&o not give way to useless alarm, added he; though it is right to beprepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain.t is not quite a week since they left Brighton. n a few days more wemay gain some news of them; and till we know that they are not married,and have no design of marrying, do not let us give the matter over aslost. As soon as get to town shall go to my brother, and makehim come home with me to 9racechurch Street; and then we may consulttogether as to what is to be done.

2h( my dear brother, replied Mrs. Bennet, that is e$actly what could most wish for. And now do, when you get to town, find them out,wherever they may be; and if they are not married already, 1make1 themmarry. And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, buttell "ydia she shall have as much money as she chooses to buy them,after they are married. And, above all, keep Mr. Bennet from fighting.#ell him what a dreadful state am in, that am frighted out of mywits%%and have such tremblings, such flutterings, all over me%%suchspasms in my side and pains in my head, and such beatings at heart, that can get no rest by night nor by day. And tell my dear "ydia not togive any directions about her clothes till she has seen me, for she doesnot know which are the best warehouses. 2h, brother, how kind you are( know you will contrive it all.

But Mr. 9ardiner, though he assured her again of his earnest endeavours

in the cause, could not avoid recommending moderation to her, as wellin her hopes as her fear; and after talking with her in this manner tilldinner was on the table, they all left her to vent all her feelings onthe housekeeper, who attended in the absence of her daughters.

#hough her brother and sister were persuaded that there was no realoccasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did not attempt tooppose it, for they knew that she had not prudence enough to hold hertongue before the servants, while they waited at table, and +udged itbetter that 1one1 only of the household, and the one whom they could



most trust should comprehend all her fears and solicitude on thesub+ect.

n the dining%room they were soon +oined by Mary and 8itty, who had beentoo busily engaged in their separate apartments to make their appearancebefore. 2ne came from her books, and the other from her toilette. #hefaces of both, however, were tolerably calm; and no change was visiblein either, e$cept that the loss of her favourite sister, or the angerwhich she had herself incurred in this business, had given more offretfulness than usual to the accents of 8itty. As for Mary, she wasmistress enough of herself to whisper to )li*abeth, with a countenanceof grave reflection, soon after they were seated at table4

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

#hen, perceiving in )li*abeth no inclination of replying, she added,0nhappy as the event must be for "ydia, we may draw from it this usefullesson4 that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable; that one

false step involves her in endless ruin; that her reputation is no lessbrittle than it is beautiful; and that she cannot be too much guarded inher behaviour towards the undeserving of the other se$.

)li*abeth lifted up her eyes in ama*ement, but was too much oppressedto make any reply. Mary, however, continued to console herself with suchkind of moral e$tractions from the evil before them.

n the afternoon, the two elder Miss Bennets were able to be forhalf%an%hour by themselves; and )li*abeth instantly availed herself ofthe opportunity of making any inquiries, which 5ane was equally eager tosatisfy. After +oining in general lamentations over the dreadful sequelof this event, which )li*abeth considered as all but certain, and MissBennet could not assert to be wholly impossible, the former continuedthe sub+ect, by saying, But tell me all and everything about it which have not already heard. 9ive me further particulars. 'hat did -olonel7orster say3 ad they no apprehension of anything before the elopementtook place3 #hey must have seen them together for ever.

-olonel 7orster did own that he had often suspected some partiality,especially on "ydia6s side, but nothing to give him any alarm. am sogrieved for him( is behaviour was attentive and kind to the utmost. e1was1 coming to us, in order to assure us of his concern, before he hadany idea of their not being gone to Scotland4 when that apprehensionfirst got abroad, it hastened his +ourney.

And was &enny convinced that 'ickham would not marry3 &id he know of

their intending to go off3 ad -olonel 7orster seen &enny himself3

/es; but, when questioned by 1him1, &enny denied knowing anything oftheir plans, and would not give his real opinion about it. e did notrepeat his persuasion of their not marrying%%and from 1that1, aminclined to hope, he might have been misunderstood before.

And till -olonel 7orster came himself, not one of you entertained adoubt, suppose, of their being really married3



ow was it possible that such an idea should enter our brains3 felta little uneasy%%a little fearful of my sister6s happiness with himin marriage, because knew that his conduct had not been always quiteright. My father and mother knew nothing of that; they only felt howimprudent a match it must be. 8itty then owned, with a very naturaltriumph on knowing more than the rest of us, that in "ydia6s last lettershe had prepared her for such a step. She had known, it seems, of theirbeing in love with each other, many weeks.

But not before they went to Brighton3

!o, believe not.

And did -olonel 7orster appear to think well of 'ickham himself3 &oeshe know his real character3

must confess that he did not speak so well of 'ickham as he formerlydid. e believed him to be imprudent and e$travagant. And since this sadaffair has taken place, it is said that he left Meryton greatly in debt;but hope this may be false.

2h, 5ane, had we been less secret, had we told what we knew of him,this could not have happened(

=erhaps it would have been better, replied her sister. But to e$posethe former faults of any person without knowing what their presentfeelings were, seemed un+ustifiable. 'e acted with the best intentions.

-ould -olonel 7orster repeat the particulars of "ydia6s note to hiswife3

e brought it with him for us to see.

5ane then took it from her pocket%book, and gave it to )li*abeth. #hesewere the contents4

M/ &)A< A<<)#,

/ou will laugh when you know where am gone, and cannot helplaughing myself at your surprise to%morrow morning, as soon as ammissed. am going to 9retna 9reen, and if you cannot guess with who, shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world love, and he is an angel. should never be happy without him, so thinkit no harm to be off. /ou need not send them word at "ongbourn of mygoing, if you do not like it, for it will make the surprise the greater,when write to them and sign my name 6"ydia 'ickham.6 'hat a good +okeit will be( can hardly write for laughing. =ray make my e$cuses to

=ratt for not keeping my engagement, and dancing with him to%night.#ell him hope he will e$cuse me when he knows all; and tell him willdance with him at the ne$t ball we meet, with great pleasure. shallsend for my clothes when get to "ongbourn; but wish you would tellSally to mend a great slit in my worked muslin gown before they arepacked up. 9ood%bye. 9ive my love to -olonel 7orster. hope you willdrink to our good +ourney.

/our affectionate friend,



"/&A B)!!)#.

2h( thoughtless, thoughtless "ydia( cried )li*abeth when she hadfinished it. 'hat a letter is this, to be written at such a moment(But at least it shows that 1she1 was serious on the sub+ect of their+ourney. 'hatever he might afterwards persuade her to, it was not on herside a 1scheme1 of infamy. My poor father( how he must have felt it(

never saw anyone so shocked. e could not speak a word for full tenminutes. My mother was taken ill immediately, and the whole house insuch confusion(

2h( 5ane, cried )li*abeth, was there a servant belonging to it whodid not know the whole story before the end of the day3

do not know. hope there was. But to be guarded at such a time isvery difficult. My mother was in hysterics, and though endeavoured togive her every assistance in my power, am afraid did not do somuch as might have done( But the horror of what might possibly happenalmost took from me my faculties.

/our attendance upon her has been too much for you. /ou do not lookwell. 2h that had been with you( you have had every care and an$ietyupon yourself alone.

Mary and 8itty have been very kind, and would have shared in everyfatigue, am sure; but did not think it right for either of them.8itty is slight and delicate; and Mary studies so much, that her hoursof repose should not be broken in on. My aunt =hillips came to "ongbournon #uesday, after my father went away; and was so good as to stay till#hursday with me. She was of great use and comfort to us all. And"ady "ucas has been very kind; she walked here on 'ednesday morning tocondole with us, and offered her services, or any of her daughters6, ifthey should be of use to us.

She had better have stayed at home, cried )li*abeth; perhaps she1meant1 well, but, under such a misfortune as this, one cannot seetoo little of one6s neighbours. Assistance is impossible; condolenceinsufferable. "et them triumph over us at a distance, and be satisfied.

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

e meant believe, replied 5ane, to go to )psom, the place wherethey last changed horses, see the postilions and try if anything couldbe made out from them. is principal ob+ect must be to discover thenumber of the hackney coach which took them from -lapham. t had come

with a fare from "ondon; and as he thought that the circumstance of agentleman and lady6s removing from one carriage into another mightbe remarked he meant to make inquiries at -lapham. f he could anyhowdiscover at what house the coachman had before set down his fare, hedetermined to make inquiries there, and hoped it might not be impossibleto find out the stand and number of the coach. do not know of anyother designs that he had formed; but he was in such a hurry to be gone,and his spirits so greatly discomposed, that had difficulty in findingout even so much as this.



-hapter :

#he whole party were in hopes of a letter from Mr. Bennet the ne$tmorning, but the post came in without bringing a single line from him.is family knew him to be, on all common occasions, a most negligent anddilatory correspondent; but at such a time they had hoped for e$ertion.#hey were forced to conclude that he had no pleasing intelligence tosend; but even of 1that1 they would have been glad to be certain. Mr.9ardiner had waited only for the letters before he set off.

'hen he was gone, they were certain at least of receiving constantinformation of what was going on, and their uncle promised, at parting,to prevail on Mr. Bennet to return to "ongbourn, as soon as he could,to the great consolation of his sister, who considered it as the onlysecurity for her husband6s not being killed in a duel.

Mrs. 9ardiner and the children were to remain in ertfordshire a few

days longer, as the former thought her presence might be serviceableto her nieces. She shared in their attendance on Mrs. Bennet, and was agreat comfort to them in their hours of freedom. #heir other aunt alsovisited them frequently, and always, as she said, with the design ofcheering and heartening them up%%though, as she never came withoutreporting some fresh instance of 'ickham6s e$travagance or irregularity,she seldom went away without leaving them more dispirited than she foundthem.

All Meryton seemed striving to blacken the man who, but three monthsbefore, had been almost an angel of light. e was declared to be in debtto every tradesman in the place, and his intrigues, all honoured withthe title of seduction, had been e$tended into every tradesman6s family.)verybody declared that he was the wickedest young man in the world;and everybody began to find out that they had always distrusted theappearance of his goodness. )li*abeth, though she did not credit abovehalf of what was said, believed enough to make her former assurance ofher sister6s ruin more certain; and even 5ane, who believed still lessof it, became almost hopeless, more especially as the time was now comewhen, if they had gone to Scotland, which she had never before entirelydespaired of, they must in all probability have gained some news ofthem.

Mr. 9ardiner left "ongbourn on Sunday; on #uesday his wife received aletter from him; it told them that, on his arrival, he had immediatelyfound out his brother, and persuaded him to come to 9racechurch Street;that Mr. Bennet had been to )psom and -lapham, before his arrival,

but without gaining any satisfactory information; and that he was nowdetermined to inquire at all the principal hotels in town, as Mr. Bennetthought it possible they might have gone to one of them, on their firstcoming to "ondon, before they procured lodgings. Mr. 9ardiner himselfdid not e$pect any success from this measure, but as his brother waseager in it, he meant to assist him in pursuing it. e added that Mr.Bennet seemed wholly disinclined at present to leave "ondon and promisedto write again very soon. #here was also a postscript to this effect4

have written to -olonel 7orster to desire him to find out, if



possible, from some of the young man6s intimates in the regiment,whether 'ickham has any relations or connections who would be likely toknow in what part of town he has now concealed himself. f there wereanyone that one could apply to with a probability of gaining such aclue as that, it might be of essential consequence. At present we havenothing to guide us. -olonel 7orster will, dare say, do everything inhis power to satisfy us on this head. But, on second thoughts, perhaps,"i**y could tell us what relations he has now living, better than anyother person.

)li*abeth was at no loss to understand from whence this deference to herauthority proceeded; but it was not in her power to give any informationof so satisfactory a nature as the compliment deserved. She had neverheard of his having had any relations, e$cept a father and mother, bothof whom had been dead many years. t was possible, however, that some ofhis companions in the %%%%shire might be able to give more information;and though she was not very sanguine in e$pecting it, the applicationwas a something to look forward to.

)very day at "ongbourn was now a day of an$iety; but the most an$ious

part of each was when the post was e$pected. #he arrival of letterswas the grand ob+ect of every morning6s impatience. #hrough letters,whatever of good or bad was to be told would be communicated, and everysucceeding day was e$pected to bring some news of importance.

But before they heard again from Mr. 9ardiner, a letter arrived fortheir father, from a different quarter, from Mr. -ollins; which, as 5anehad received directions to open all that came for him in his absence,she accordingly read; and )li*abeth, who knew what curiosities hisletters always were, looked over her, and read it likewise. t was asfollows4

M/ &)A< S<,

feel myself called upon, by our relationship, and my situationin life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are nowsuffering under, of which we were yesterday informed by a letter fromertfordshire. Be assured, my dear sir, that Mrs. -ollins and myselfsincerely sympathise with you and all your respectable family, inyour present distress, which must be of the bitterest kind, becauseproceeding from a cause which no time can remove. !o arguments shall bewanting on my part that can alleviate so severe a misfortune%%or thatmay comfort you, under a circumstance that must be of all others themost afflicting to a parent6s mind. #he death of your daughter wouldhave been a blessing in comparison of this. And it is the more tobe lamented, because there is reason to suppose as my dear -harlotteinforms me, that this licentiousness of behaviour in your daughter has

proceeded from a faulty degree of indulgence; though, at the same time,for the consolation of yourself and Mrs. Bennet, am inclined to thinkthat her own disposition must be naturally bad, or she could not beguilty of such an enormity, at so early an age. owsoever that may be,you are grievously to be pitied; in which opinion am not only +oinedby Mrs. -ollins, but likewise by "ady -atherine and her daughter, towhom have related the affair. #hey agree with me in apprehending thatthis false step in one daughter will be in+urious to the fortunes ofall the others; for who, as "ady -atherine herself condescendingly says,will connect themselves with such a family3 And this consideration leads



me moreover to reflect, with augmented satisfaction, on a certain eventof last !ovember; for had it been otherwise, must have been involvedin all your sorrow and disgrace. "et me then advise you, dear sir, toconsole yourself as much as possible, to throw off your unworthy childfrom your affection for ever, and leave her to reap the fruits of herown heinous offense.

am, dear sir, etc., etc.

Mr. 9ardiner did not write again till he had received an answer from-olonel 7orster; and then he had nothing of a pleasant nature to send.t was not known that 'ickham had a single relationship with whom hekept up any connection, and it was certain that he had no near oneliving. is former acquaintances had been numerous; but since hehad been in the militia, it did not appear that he was on terms ofparticular friendship with any of them. #here was no one, therefore,who could be pointed out as likely to give any news of him. And in thewretched state of his own finances, there was a very powerful motive forsecrecy, in addition to his fear of discovery by "ydia6s relations, forit had +ust transpired that he had left gaming debts behind him to a

very considerable amount. -olonel 7orster believed that more than athousand pounds would be necessary to clear his e$penses at Brighton.e owed a good deal in town, but his debts of honour were still moreformidable. Mr. 9ardiner did not attempt to conceal these particularsfrom the "ongbourn family. 5ane heard them with horror. A gamester(she cried. #his is wholly une$pected. had not an idea of it.

Mr. 9ardiner added in his letter, that they might e$pect to see theirfather at home on the following day, which was Saturday. <enderedspiritless by the ill%success of all their endeavours, he had yieldedto his brother%in%law6s entreaty that he would return to his family, andleave it to him to do whatever occasion might suggest to be advisablefor continuing their pursuit. 'hen Mrs. Bennet was told of this, she didnot e$press so much satisfaction as her children e$pected, consideringwhat her an$iety for his life had been before.

'hat, is he coming home, and without poor "ydia3 she cried. Sure hewill not leave "ondon before he has found them. 'ho is to fight 'ickham,and make him marry her, if he comes away3

As Mrs. 9ardiner began to wish to be at home, it was settled that sheand the children should go to "ondon, at the same time that Mr. Bennetcame from it. #he coach, therefore, took them the first stage of their+ourney, and brought its master back to "ongbourn.

Mrs. 9ardiner went away in all the perple$ity about )li*abeth and her&erbyshire friend that had attended her from that part of the world. is

name had never been voluntarily mentioned before them by her niece; andthe kind of half%e$pectation which Mrs. 9ardiner had formed, of theirbeing followed by a letter from him, had ended in nothing. )li*abeth hadreceived none since her return that could come from =emberley.

#he present unhappy state of the family rendered any other e$cuse forthe lowness of her spirits unnecessary; nothing, therefore, could befairly con+ectured from 1that1, though )li*abeth, who was by this timetolerably well acquainted with her own feelings, was perfectly awarethat, had she known nothing of &arcy, she could have borne the dread of



"ydia6s infamy somewhat better. t would have spared her, she thought,one sleepless night out of two.

'hen Mr. Bennet arrived, he had all the appearance of his usualphilosophic composure. e said as little as he had ever been in thehabit of saying; made no mention of the business that had taken himaway, and it was some time before his daughters had courage to speak ofit.

t was not till the afternoon, when he had +oined them at tea, that)li*abeth ventured to introduce the sub+ect; and then, on her brieflye$pressing her sorrow for what he must have endured, he replied, Saynothing of that. 'ho should suffer but myself3 t has been my own doing,and ought to feel it.

/ou must not be too severe upon yourself, replied )li*abeth.

/ou may well warn me against such an evil. uman nature is so proneto fall into it( !o, "i**y, let me once in my life feel how much havebeen to blame. am not afraid of being overpowered by the impression.

t will pass away soon enough.

&o you suppose them to be in "ondon3

/es; where else can they be so well concealed3

And "ydia used to want to go to "ondon, added 8itty.

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

#hen after a short silence he continued4

"i**y, bear you no ill%will for being +ustified in your advice to melast May, which, considering the event, shows some greatness of mind.

#hey were interrupted by Miss Bennet, who came to fetch her mother6stea.

#his is a parade, he cried, which does one good; it gives such anelegance to misfortune( Another day will do the same; will sit in mylibrary, in my nightcap and powdering gown, and give as much trouble as can; or, perhaps, may defer it till 8itty runs away.

am not going to run away, papa, said 8itty fretfully. f shouldever go to Brighton, would behave better than "ydia.

1/ou1 go to Brighton. would not trust you so near it as )astbournefor fifty pounds( !o, 8itty, have at last learnt to be cautious, andyou will feel the effects of it. !o officer is ever to enter intomy house again, nor even to pass through the village. Balls will beabsolutely prohibited, unless you stand up with one of your sisters.And you are never to stir out of doors till you can prove that you havespent ten minutes of every day in a rational manner.

8itty, who took all these threats in a serious light, began to cry.



'ell, well, said he, do not make yourself unhappy. f you are a goodgirl for the ne$t ten years, will take you to a review at the end ofthem.

-hapter :C

#wo days after Mr. Bennet6s return, as 5ane and )li*abeth were walkingtogether in the shrubbery behind the house, they saw the housekeepercoming towards them, and, concluding that she came to call them to theirmother, went forward to meet her; but, instead of the e$pected summons,when they approached her, she said to Miss Bennet, beg your pardon,madam, for interrupting you, but was in hopes you might have got somegood news from town, so took the liberty of coming to ask.

'hat do you mean, ill3 'e have heard nothing from town.

&ear madam, cried Mrs. ill, in great astonishment, don6t you know

there is an e$press come for master from Mr. 9ardiner3 e has been herethis half%hour, and master has had a letter.

Away ran the girls, too eager to get in to have time for speech. #heyran through the vestibule into the breakfast%room; from thence to thelibrary; their father was in neither; and they were on the point ofseeking him up stairs with their mother, when they were met by thebutler, who said4

f you are looking for my master, ma6am, he is walking towards thelittle copse.

0pon this information, they instantly passed through the hall oncemore, and ran across the lawn after their father, who was deliberatelypursuing his way towards a small wood on one side of the paddock.

5ane, who was not so light nor so much in the habit of running as)li*abeth, soon lagged behind, while her sister, panting for breath,came up with him, and eagerly cried out4

2h, papa, what news%%what news3 ave you heard from my uncle3

/es have had a letter from him by e$press.

'ell, and what news does it bring%%good or bad3

'hat is there of good to be e$pected3 said he, taking the letter from

his pocket. But perhaps you would like to read it.

)li*abeth impatiently caught it from his hand. 5ane now came up.

<ead it aloud, said their father, for hardly know myself what it isabout.

9racechurch Street, Monday, August F.

M/ &)A< B<2#)<,



At last am able to send you some tidings of my niece, and such as,upon the whole, hope it will give you satisfaction. Soon after youleft me on Saturday, was fortunate enough to find out in what part of"ondon they were. #he particulars reserve till we meet; it is enoughto know they are discovered. have seen them both%%

#hen it is as always hoped, cried 5ane; they are married(

)li*abeth read on4

have seen them both. #hey are not married, nor can find therewas any intention of being so; but if you are willing to perform theengagements which have ventured to make on your side, hope it willnot be long before they are. All that is required of you is, to assureto your daughter, by settlement, her equal share of the five thousandpounds secured among your children after the decease of yourself andmy sister; and, moreover, to enter into an engagement of allowing her,during your life, one hundred pounds per annum. #hese are conditionswhich, considering everything, had no hesitation in complying with,

as far as thought myself privileged, for you. shall send this bye$press, that no time may be lost in bringing me your answer. /ouwill easily comprehend, from these particulars, that Mr. 'ickham6scircumstances are not so hopeless as they are generally believed to be.#he world has been deceived in that respect; and am happy to say therewill be some little money, even when all his debts are discharged, tosettle on my niece, in addition to her own fortune. f, as concludewill be the case, you send me full powers to act in your name throughoutthe whole of this business, will immediately give directions toaggerston for preparing a proper settlement. #here will not be thesmallest occasion for your coming to town again; therefore stay quiet at"ongbourn, and depend on my diligence and care. Send back your answer asfast as you can, and be careful to write e$plicitly. 'e have +udged itbest that my niece should be married from this house, of which hopeyou will approve. She comes to us to%day. shall write again as soon asanything more is determined on. /ours, etc.,

)&'. 9A<&!)<.

s it possible3 cried )li*abeth, when she had finished. -an it bepossible that he will marry her3

'ickham is not so undeserving, then, as we thought him, said hersister. My dear father, congratulate you.

And have you answered the letter3 cried )li*abeth.

!o; but it must be done soon.

Most earnestly did she then entreat him to lose no more time before hewrote.

2h( my dear father, she cried, come back and write immediately.-onsider how important every moment is in such a case.

"et me write for you, said 5ane, if you dislike the troubleyourself.



dislike it very much, he replied; but it must be done.

And so saying, he turned back with them, and walked towards the house.

And may ask%% said )li*abeth; but the terms, suppose, must becomplied with.

-omplied with( am only ashamed of his asking so little.

And they 1must1 marry( /et he is 1such1 a man(

/es, yes, they must marry. #here is nothing else to be done. But thereare two things that want very much to know; one is, how much moneyyour uncle has laid down to bring it about; and the other, how am everto pay him.

Money( My uncle( cried 5ane, what do you mean, sir3

mean, that no man in his senses would marry "ydia on so slight a

temptation as one hundred a year during my life, and fifty after amgone.

#hat is very true, said )li*abeth; though it had not occurred to mebefore. is debts to be discharged, and something still to remain( 2h(it must be my uncle6s doings( 9enerous, good man, am afraid he hasdistressed himself. A small sum could not do all this.

!o, said her father; 'ickham6s a fool if he takes her with a farthingless than ten thousand pounds. should be sorry to think so ill of him,in the very beginning of our relationship.

#en thousand pounds( eaven forbid( ow is half such a sum to berepaid3

Mr. Bennet made no answer, and each of them, deep in thought, continuedsilent till they reached the house. #heir father then went on to thelibrary to write, and the girls walked into the breakfast%room.

And they are really to be married( cried )li*abeth, as soon as theywere by themselves. ow strange this is( And for 1this1 we are to bethankful. #hat they should marry, small as is their chance of happiness,and wretched as is his character, we are forced to re+oice. 2h, "ydia(

comfort myself with thinking, replied 5ane, that he certainly wouldnot marry "ydia if he had not a real regard for her. #hough our kinduncle has done something towards clearing him, cannot believe that ten

thousand pounds, or anything like it, has been advanced. e has childrenof his own, and may have more. ow could he spare half ten thousandpounds3

f he were ever able to learn what 'ickham6s debts have been, said)li*abeth, and how much is settled on his side on our sister, we shalle$actly know what Mr. 9ardiner has done for them, because 'ickham hasnot si$pence of his own. #he kindness of my uncle and aunt can neverbe requited. #heir taking her home, and affording her their personalprotection and countenance, is such a sacrifice to her advantage as



years of gratitude cannot enough acknowledge. By this time she isactually with them( f such goodness does not make her miserable now,she will never deserve to be happy( 'hat a meeting for her, when shefirst sees my aunt(

'e must endeavour to forget all that has passed on either side, said5ane4 hope and trust they will yet be happy. is consenting tomarry her is a proof, will believe, that he is come to a right way ofthinking. #heir mutual affection will steady them; and flatter myselfthey will settle so quietly, and live in so rational a manner, as may intime make their past imprudence forgotten.

#heir conduct has been such, replied )li*abeth, as neither you, nor, nor anybody can ever forget. t is useless to talk of it.

t now occurred to the girls that their mother was in all likelihoodperfectly ignorant of what had happened. #hey went to the library,therefore, and asked their father whether he would not wish them to makeit known to her. e was writing and, without raising his head, coollyreplied4

5ust as you please.

May we take my uncle6s letter to read to her3

#ake whatever you like, and get away.

)li*abeth took the letter from his writing%table, and they went up stairstogether. Mary and 8itty were both with Mrs. Bennet4 one communicationwould, therefore, do for all. After a slight preparation for good news,the letter was read aloud. Mrs. Bennet could hardly contain herself. Assoon as 5ane had read Mr. 9ardiner6s hope of "ydia6s being soonmarried, her +oy burst forth, and every following sentence added to itse$uberance. She was now in an irritation as violent from delight, as shehad ever been fidgety from alarm and ve$ation. #o know that her daughterwould be married was enough. She was disturbed by no fear for herfelicity, nor humbled by any remembrance of her misconduct.

My dear, dear "ydia( she cried. #his is delightful indeed( She willbe married( shall see her again( She will be married at si$teen(My good, kind brother( knew how it would be. knew he would manageeverything( ow long to see her( and to see dear 'ickham too( But theclothes, the wedding clothes( will write to my sister 9ardiner aboutthem directly. "i**y, my dear, run down to your father, and ask himhow much he will give her. Stay, stay, will go myself. <ing the bell,8itty, for ill. will put on my things in a moment. My dear, dear"ydia( ow merry we shall be together when we meet(

er eldest daughter endeavoured to give some relief to the violence ofthese transports, by leading her thoughts to the obligations which Mr.9ardiner6s behaviour laid them all under.

7or we must attribute this happy conclusion, she added, in a greatmeasure to his kindness. 'e are persuaded that he has pledged himself toassist Mr. 'ickham with money.

'ell, cried her mother, it is all very right; who should do it but



her own uncle3 f he had not had a family of his own, and my childrenmust have had all his money, you know; and it is the first time we haveever had anything from him, e$cept a few presents. 'ell( am so happy(n a short time shall have a daughter married. Mrs. 'ickham( ow wellit sounds( And she was only si$teen last 5une. My dear 5ane, am insuch a flutter, that am sure can6t write; so will dictate, andyou write for me. 'e will settle with your father about the moneyafterwards; but the things should be ordered immediately.

She was then proceeding to all the particulars of calico, muslin, andcambric, and would shortly have dictated some very plentiful orders, hadnot 5ane, though with some difficulty, persuaded her to wait till herfather was at leisure to be consulted. 2ne day6s delay, she observed,would be of small importance; and her mother was too happy to be quiteso obstinate as usual. 2ther schemes, too, came into her head.

will go to Meryton, said she, as soon as am dressed, and tell thegood, good news to my sister =hilips. And as come back, can callon "ady "ucas and Mrs. "ong. 8itty, run down and order the carriage.An airing would do me a great deal of good, am sure. 9irls, can do

anything for you in Meryton3 2h( ere comes ill( My dear ill, have youheard the good news3 Miss "ydia is going to be married; and you shallall have a bowl of punch to make merry at her wedding.

Mrs. ill began instantly to e$press her +oy. )li*abeth received hercongratulations amongst the rest, and then, sick of this folly, tookrefuge in her own room, that she might think with freedom.

=oor "ydia6s situation must, at best, be bad enough; but that it wasno worse, she had need to be thankful. She felt it so; and though, inlooking forward, neither rational happiness nor worldly prosperity couldbe +ustly e$pected for her sister, in looking back to what they hadfeared, only two hours ago, she felt all the advantages of what they hadgained.

-hapter E

Mr. Bennet had very often wished before this period of his life that,instead of spending his whole income, he had laid by an annual sum forthe better provision of his children, and of his wife, if she survivedhim. e now wished it more than ever. ad he done his duty in thatrespect, "ydia need not have been indebted to her uncle for whateverof honour or credit could now be purchased for her. #he satisfaction ofprevailing on one of the most worthless young men in 9reat Britain to be

her husband might then have rested in its proper place.

e was seriously concerned that a cause of so little advantage to anyoneshould be forwarded at the sole e$pense of his brother%in%law, and hewas determined, if possible, to find out the e$tent of his assistance,and to discharge the obligation as soon as he could.

'hen first Mr. Bennet had married, economy was held to be perfectlyuseless, for, of course, they were to have a son. #he son was to +oinin cutting off the entail, as soon as he should be of age, and the widow



and younger children would by that means be provided for. 7ive daughterssuccessively entered the world, but yet the son was to come; and Mrs.Bennet, for many years after "ydia6s birth, had been certain that hewould. #his event had at last been despaired of, but it was thentoo late to be saving. Mrs. Bennet had no turn for economy, and herhusband6s love of independence had alone prevented their e$ceeding theirincome.

7ive thousand pounds was settled by marriage articles on Mrs. Bennet andthe children. But in what proportions it should be divided amongst thelatter depended on the will of the parents. #his was one point, withregard to "ydia, at least, which was now to be settled, and Mr. Bennetcould have no hesitation in acceding to the proposal before him. nterms of grateful acknowledgment for the kindness of his brother,though e$pressed most concisely, he then delivered on paper his perfectapprobation of all that was done, and his willingness to fulfil theengagements that had been made for him. e had never before supposedthat, could 'ickham be prevailed on to marry his daughter, it wouldbe done with so little inconvenience to himself as by the presentarrangement. e would scarcely be ten pounds a year the loser by the

hundred that was to be paid them; for, what with her board and pocketallowance, and the continual presents in money which passed to herthrough her mother6s hands, "ydia6s e$penses had been very little withinthat sum.

#hat it would be done with such trifling e$ertion on his side, too, wasanother very welcome surprise; for his wish at present was to have aslittle trouble in the business as possible. 'hen the first transportsof rage which had produced his activity in seeking her were over, henaturally returned to all his former indolence. is letter was soondispatched; for, though dilatory in undertaking business, he was quickin its e$ecution. e begged to know further particulars of what hewas indebted to his brother, but was too angry with "ydia to send anymessage to her.

#he good news spread quickly through the house, and with proportionatespeed through the neighbourhood. t was borne in the latter with decentphilosophy. #o be sure, it would have been more for the advantageof conversation had Miss "ydia Bennet come upon the town; or, as thehappiest alternative, been secluded from the world, in some distantfarmhouse. But there was much to be talked of in marrying her; and thegood%natured wishes for her well%doing which had proceeded before fromall the spiteful old ladies in Meryton lost but a little of their spiritin this change of circumstances, because with such an husband her miserywas considered certain.

t was a fortnight since Mrs. Bennet had been downstairs; but on this

happy day she again took her seat at the head of her table, and inspirits oppressively high. !o sentiment of shame gave a damp to hertriumph. #he marriage of a daughter, which had been the first ob+ectof her wishes since 5ane was si$teen, was now on the point ofaccomplishment, and her thoughts and her words ran wholly on thoseattendants of elegant nuptials, fine muslins, new carriages, andservants. She was busily searching through the neighbourhood for aproper situation for her daughter, and, without knowing or consideringwhat their income might be, re+ected many as deficient in si*e andimportance.



aye =ark might do, said she, if the 9ouldings could quit it%%or thegreat house at Stoke, if the drawing%room were larger; but Ashworth istoo far off( could not bear to have her ten miles from me; and as for=ulvis "odge, the attics are dreadful.

er husband allowed her to talk on without interruption while theservants remained. But when they had withdrawn, he said to her4 Mrs.Bennet, before you take any or all of these houses for your son anddaughter, let us come to a right understanding. nto 1one1 house in thisneighbourhood they shall never have admittance. will not encourage theimpudence of either, by receiving them at "ongbourn.

A long dispute followed this declaration; but Mr. Bennet was firm. tsoon led to another; and Mrs. Bennet found, with ama*ement and horror,that her husband would not advance a guinea to buy clothes for hisdaughter. e protested that she should receive from him no mark ofaffection whatever on the occasion. Mrs. Bennet could hardly comprehendit. #hat his anger could be carried to such a point of inconceivableresentment as to refuse his daughter a privilege without which her

marriage would scarcely seem valid, e$ceeded all she could believepossible. She was more alive to the disgrace which her want of newclothes must reflect on her daughter6s nuptials, than to any sense ofshame at her eloping and living with 'ickham a fortnight before theytook place.

)li*abeth was now most heartily sorry that she had, from the distress ofthe moment, been led to make Mr. &arcy acquainted with their fears forher sister; for since her marriage would so shortly give theproper termination to the elopement, they might hope to conceal itsunfavourable beginning from all those who were not immediately on thespot.

She had no fear of its spreading farther through his means. #here werefew people on whose secrecy she would have more confidently depended;but, at the same time, there was no one whose knowledge of a sister6sfrailty would have mortified her so much%%not, however, from any fearof disadvantage from it individually to herself, for, at any rate,there seemed a gulf impassable between them. ad "ydia6s marriage beenconcluded on the most honourable terms, it was not to be supposed thatMr. &arcy would connect himself with a family where, to every otherob+ection, would now be added an alliance and relationship of thenearest kind with a man whom he so +ustly scorned.

7rom such a connection she could not wonder that he would shrink. #hewish of procuring her regard, which she had assured herself of hisfeeling in &erbyshire, could not in rational e$pectation survive such a

blow as this. She was humbled, she was grieved; she repented, though shehardly knew of what. She became +ealous of his esteem, when she could nolonger hope to be benefited by it. She wanted to hear of him, when thereseemed the least chance of gaining intelligence. She was convinced thatshe could have been happy with him, when it was no longer likely theyshould meet.

'hat a triumph for him, as she often thought, could he know that theproposals which she had proudly spurned only four months ago, would nowhave been most gladly and gratefully received( e was as generous, she



doubted not, as the most generous of his se$; but while he was mortal,there must be a triumph.

She began now to comprehend that he was e$actly the man who, indisposition and talents, would most suit her. is understanding andtemper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. twas an union that must have been to the advantage of both; by her easeand liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved;and from his +udgement, information, and knowledge of the world, shemust have received benefit of greater importance.

But no such happy marriage could now teach the admiring multitude whatconnubial felicity really was. An union of a different tendency, andprecluding the possibility of the other, was soon to be formed in theirfamily.

ow 'ickham and "ydia were to be supported in tolerable independence,she could not imagine. But how little of permanent happiness couldbelong to a couple who were only brought together because their passionswere stronger than their virtue, she could easily con+ecture.

J J J J J

Mr. 9ardiner soon wrote again to his brother. #o Mr. Bennet6sacknowledgments he briefly replied, with assurance of his eagerness topromote the welfare of any of his family; and concluded with entreatiesthat the sub+ect might never be mentioned to him again. #he principalpurport of his letter was to inform them that Mr. 'ickham had resolvedon quitting the militia.

t was greatly my wish that he should do so, he added, as soon ashis marriage was fi$ed on. And think you will agree with me, inconsidering the removal from that corps as highly advisable, both onhis account and my niece6s. t is Mr. 'ickham6s intention to go intothe regulars; and among his former friends, there are still some whoare able and willing to assist him in the army. e has the promise of anensigncy in 9eneral %%%%6s regiment, now quartered in the !orth. tis an advantage to have it so far from this part of the kingdom. epromises fairly; and hope among different people, where they may eachhave a character to preserve, they will both be more prudent. havewritten to -olonel 7orster, to inform him of our present arrangements,and to request that he will satisfy the various creditors of Mr. 'ickhamin and near Brighton, with assurances of speedy payment, for which have pledged myself. And will you give yourself the trouble of carryingsimilar assurances to his creditors in Meryton, of whom shall sub+oina list according to his information3 e has given in all his debts; hope at least he has not deceived us. aggerston has our directions,

and all will be completed in a week. #hey will then +oin his regiment,unless they are first invited to "ongbourn; and understand from Mrs.9ardiner, that my niece is very desirous of seeing you all before sheleaves the South. She is well, and begs to be dutifully remembered toyou and her mother.%%/ours, etc.,

). 9A<&!)<.

Mr. Bennet and his daughters saw all the advantages of 'ickham6s removalfrom the %%%%shire as clearly as Mr. 9ardiner could do. But Mrs. Bennet



was not so well pleased with it. "ydia6s being settled in the !orth,+ust when she had e$pected most pleasure and pride in her company,for she had by no means given up her plan of their residing inertfordshire, was a severe disappointment; and, besides, it was such apity that "ydia should be taken from a regiment where she was acquaintedwith everybody, and had so many favourites.

She is so fond of Mrs. 7orster, said she, it will be quite shockingto send her away( And there are several of the young men, too, that shelikes very much. #he officers may not be so pleasant in 9eneral %%%%6sregiment.

is daughter6s request, for such it might be considered, of beingadmitted into her family again before she set off for the !orth,received at first an absolute negative. But 5ane and )li*abeth,who agreed in wishing, for the sake of their sister6s feelings andconsequence, that she should be noticed on her marriage by her parents,urged him so earnestly yet so rationally and so mildly, to receive herand her husband at "ongbourn, as soon as they were married, that he wasprevailed on to think as they thought, and act as they wished. And their

mother had the satisfaction of knowing that she would be able to showher married daughter in the neighbourhood before she was banished to the!orth. 'hen Mr. Bennet wrote again to his brother, therefore, he senthis permission for them to come; and it was settled, that as soon asthe ceremony was over, they should proceed to "ongbourn. )li*abeth wassurprised, however, that 'ickham should consent to such a scheme, andhad she consulted only her own inclination, any meeting with him wouldhave been the last ob+ect of her wishes.

-hapter D

#heir sister6s wedding day arrived; and 5ane and )li*abeth felt for herprobably more than she felt for herself. #he carriage was sent tomeet them at %%%%, and they were to return in it by dinner%time. #heirarrival was dreaded by the elder Miss Bennets, and 5ane more especially,who gave "ydia the feelings which would have attended herself, had shebeen the culprit, and was wretched in the thought of what her sistermust endure.

#hey came. #he family were assembled in the breakfast room to receivethem. Smiles decked the face of Mrs. Bennet as the carriage drove up tothe door; her husband looked impenetrably grave; her daughters, alarmed,an$ious, uneasy.

"ydia6s voice was heard in the vestibule; the door was thrown open, andshe ran into the room. er mother stepped forwards, embraced her, andwelcomed her with rapture; gave her hand, with an affectionate smile,to 'ickham, who followed his lady; and wished them both +oy with analacrity which shewed no doubt of their happiness.

#heir reception from Mr. Bennet, to whom they then turned, was not quiteso cordial. is countenance rather gained in austerity; and he scarcelyopened his lips. #he easy assurance of the young couple, indeed, wasenough to provoke him. )li*abeth was disgusted, and even Miss Bennet



was shocked. "ydia was "ydia still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy,and fearless. She turned from sister to sister, demanding theircongratulations; and when at length they all sat down, looked eagerlyround the room, took notice of some little alteration in it, andobserved, with a laugh, that it was a great while since she had beenthere.

'ickham was not at all more distressed than herself, but his mannerswere always so pleasing, that had his character and his marriage beene$actly what they ought, his smiles and his easy address, while heclaimed their relationship, would have delighted them all. )li*abeth hadnot before believed him quite equal to such assurance; but she sat down,resolving within herself to draw no limits in future to the impudenceof an impudent man. She blushed, and 5ane blushed; but the cheeks of thetwo who caused their confusion suffered no variation of colour.

#here was no want of discourse. #he bride and her mother could neitherof them talk fast enough; and 'ickham, who happened to sit near)li*abeth, began inquiring after his acquaintance in that neighbourhood,with a good humoured ease which she felt very unable to equal in her

replies. #hey seemed each of them to have the happiest memories in theworld. !othing of the past was recollected with pain; and "ydia ledvoluntarily to sub+ects which her sisters would not have alluded to forthe world.

2nly think of its being three months, she cried, since went away;it seems but a fortnight declare; and yet there have been thingsenough happened in the time. 9ood gracious( when went away, am sure had no more idea of being married till came back again( though thought it would be very good fun if was.

er father lifted up his eyes. 5ane was distressed. )li*abeth lookede$pressively at "ydia; but she, who never heard nor saw anything ofwhich she chose to be insensible, gaily continued, 2h( mamma, do thepeople hereabouts know am married to%day3 was afraid they might not;and we overtook 'illiam 9oulding in his curricle, so was determined heshould know it, and so let down the side%glass ne$t to him, and tookoff my glove, and let my hand +ust rest upon the window frame, so thathe might see the ring, and then bowed and smiled like anything.

)li*abeth could bear it no longer. She got up, and ran out of the room;and returned no more, till she heard them passing through the hall tothe dining parlour. She then +oined them soon enough to see "ydia, withan$ious parade, walk up to her mother6s right hand, and hear her sayto her eldest sister, Ah( 5ane, take your place now, and you must golower, because am a married woman.

t was not to be supposed that time would give "ydia that embarrassmentfrom which she had been so wholly free at first. er ease and goodspirits increased. She longed to see Mrs. =hillips, the "ucases, andall their other neighbours, and to hear herself called Mrs. 'ickhamby each of them; and in the mean time, she went after dinner to show herring, and boast of being married, to Mrs. ill and the two housemaids.

'ell, mamma, said she, when they were all returned to the breakfastroom, and what do you think of my husband3 s not he a charming man3 am sure my sisters must all envy me. only hope they may have half



my good luck. #hey must all go to Brighton. #hat is the place to gethusbands. 'hat a pity it is, mamma, we did not all go.

>ery true; and if had my will, we should. But my dear "ydia, don6tat all like your going such a way off. Must it be so3

2h, lord( yes;%%there is nothing in that. shall like it of allthings. /ou and papa, and my sisters, must come down and see us. 'eshall be at !ewcastle all the winter, and dare say there will be someballs, and will take care to get good partners for them all.

should like it beyond anything( said her mother.

And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sistersbehind you; and dare say shall get husbands for them before thewinter is over.

thank you for my share of the favour, said )li*abeth; but do notparticularly like your way of getting husbands.

#heir visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Mr. 'ickhamhad received his commission before he left "ondon, and he was to +oinhis regiment at the end of a fortnight.

!o one but Mrs. Bennet regretted that their stay would be so short; andshe made the most of the time by visiting about with her daughter, andhaving very frequent parties at home. #hese parties were acceptable toall; to avoid a family circle was even more desirable to such as didthink, than such as did not.

'ickham6s affection for "ydia was +ust what )li*abeth had e$pectedto find it; not equal to "ydia6s for him. She had scarcely needed herpresent observation to be satisfied, from the reason of things, thattheir elopement had been brought on by the strength of her love, ratherthan by his; and she would have wondered why, without violently caringfor her, he chose to elope with her at all, had she not felt certainthat his flight was rendered necessary by distress of circumstances; andif that were the case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunityof having a companion.

"ydia was e$ceedingly fond of him. e was her dear 'ickham on everyoccasion; no one was to be put in competition with him. e did everything best in the world; and she was sure he would kill more birds onthe first of September, than any body else in the country.

2ne morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her twoelder sisters, she said to )li*abeth4

"i**y, never gave 1you1 an account of my wedding, believe. /ouwere not by, when told mamma and the others all about it. Are not youcurious to hear how it was managed3

!o really, replied )li*abeth; think there cannot be too little saidon the sub+ect.

"a( /ou are so strange( But must tell you how it went off. 'e weremarried, you know, at St. -lement6s, because 'ickham6s lodgings were in



that parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleveno6clock. My uncle and aunt and were to go together; and the otherswere to meet us at the church. 'ell, Monday morning came, and was insuch a fuss( was so afraid, you know, that something would happen toput it off, and then should have gone quite distracted. And there wasmy aunt, all the time was dressing, preaching and talking away +ust asif she was reading a sermon. owever, did not hear above one word inten, for was thinking, you may suppose, of my dear 'ickham. longedto know whether he would be married in his blue coat.

'ell, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual; thought it would neverbe over; for, by the bye, you are to understand, that my uncle and auntwere horrid unpleasant all the time was with them. f you6ll believeme, did not once put my foot out of doors, though was there afortnight. !ot one party, or scheme, or anything. #o be sure "ondon wasrather thin, but, however, the "ittle #heatre was open. 'ell, and so+ust as the carriage came to the door, my uncle was called away uponbusiness to that horrid man Mr. Stone. And then, you know, when oncethey get together, there is no end of it. 'ell, was so frightened did not know what to do, for my uncle was to give me away; and if we

were beyond the hour, we could not be married all day. But, luckily, hecame back again in ten minutes6 time, and then we all set out. owever, recollected afterwards that if he had been prevented going, thewedding need not be put off, for Mr. &arcy might have done as well.

Mr. &arcy( repeated )li*abeth, in utter ama*ement.

2h, yes(%%he was to come there with 'ickham, you know. But graciousme( quite forgot( ought not to have said a word about it. promisedthem so faithfully( 'hat will 'ickham say3 t was to be such a secret(

f it was to be secret, said 5ane, say not another word on thesub+ect. /ou may depend upon my seeking no further.

2h( certainly, said )li*abeth, though burning with curiosity; we willask you no questions.

#hank you, said "ydia, for if you did, should certainly tell youall, and then 'ickham would be angry.

2n such encouragement to ask, )li*abeth was forced to put it out of herpower, by running away.

But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or at leastit was impossible not to try for information. Mr. &arcy had been ather sister6s wedding. t was e$actly a scene, and e$actly among people,where he had apparently least to do, and least temptation to go.

-on+ectures as to the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried into herbrain; but she was satisfied with none. #hose that best pleased her, asplacing his conduct in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. Shecould not bear such suspense; and hastily sei*ing a sheet of paper,wrote a short letter to her aunt, to request an e$planation of what"ydia had dropt, if it were compatible with the secrecy which had beenintended.

/ou may readily comprehend, she added, what my curiosity must beto know how a person unconnected with any of us, and Hcomparatively



speakingI a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at sucha time. =ray write instantly, and let me understand it%%unless it is,for very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which "ydia seemsto think necessary; and then must endeavour to be satisfied withignorance.

!ot that 1shall1, though, she added to herself, as she finishedthe letter; and my dear aunt, if you do not tell me in an honourablemanner, shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find itout.

5ane6s delicate sense of honour would not allow her to speak to)li*abeth privately of what "ydia had let fall; )li*abeth was gladof it;%%till it appeared whether her inquiries would receive anysatisfaction, she had rather be without a confidante.

-hapter F

)li*abeth had the satisfaction of receiving an answer to her letter assoon as she possibly could. She was no sooner in possession of itthan, hurrying into the little copse, where she was least likely tobe interrupted, she sat down on one of the benches and prepared tobe happy; for the length of the letter convinced her that it did notcontain a denial.

9racechurch street, Sept. ?.

M/ &)A< !)-),

have +ust received your letter, and shall devote this whole morningto answering it, as foresee that a 1little1 writing will not comprisewhat have to tell you. must confess myself surprised by yourapplication; did not e$pect it from 1you1. &on6t think me angry,however, for only mean to let you know that had not imagined suchinquiries to be necessary on 1your1 side. f you do not choose tounderstand me, forgive my impertinence. /our uncle is as much surprisedas am%%and nothing but the belief of your being a party concernedwould have allowed him to act as he has done. But if you are reallyinnocent and ignorant, must be more e$plicit.

2n the very day of my coming home from "ongbourn, your uncle had a mostune$pected visitor. Mr. &arcy called, and was shut up with him severalhours. t was all over before arrived; so my curiosity was not sodreadfully racked as 1yours1 seems to have been. e came to tell Mr.

9ardiner that he had found out where your sister and Mr. 'ickham were,and that he had seen and talked with them both; 'ickham repeatedly,"ydia once. 7rom what can collect, he left &erbyshire only one dayafter ourselves, and came to town with the resolution of hunting forthem. #he motive professed was his conviction of its being owing tohimself that 'ickham6s worthlessness had not been so well known as tomake it impossible for any young woman of character to love or confidein him. e generously imputed the whole to his mistaken pride, andconfessed that he had before thought it beneath him to lay his privateactions open to the world. is character was to speak for itself. e



called it, therefore, his duty to step forward, and endeavour to remedyan evil which had been brought on by himself. f he 1had another1motive, am sure it would never disgrace him. e had been some daysin town, before he was able to discover them; but he had something todirect his search, which was more than 1we1 had; and the consciousnessof this was another reason for his resolving to follow us.

#here is a lady, it seems, a Mrs. /ounge, who was some time agogoverness to Miss &arcy, and was dismissed from her charge on some causeof disapprobation, though he did not say what. She then took a largehouse in )dward%street, and has since maintained herself by lettinglodgings. #his Mrs. /ounge was, he knew, intimately acquainted with'ickham; and he went to her for intelligence of him as soon as he got totown. But it was two or three days before he could get from her what hewanted. She would not betray her trust, suppose, without bribery andcorruption, for she really did know where her friend was to be found.'ickham indeed had gone to her on their first arrival in "ondon, and hadshe been able to receive them into her house, they would have taken uptheir abode with her. At length, however, our kind friend procured thewished%for direction. #hey were in %%%% street. e saw 'ickham, and

afterwards insisted on seeing "ydia. is first ob+ect with her, heacknowledged, had been to persuade her to quit her present disgracefulsituation, and return to her friends as soon as they could be prevailedon to receive her, offering his assistance, as far as it would go. Buthe found "ydia absolutely resolved on remaining where she was. She caredfor none of her friends; she wanted no help of his; she would not hearof leaving 'ickham. She was sure they should be married some time orother, and it did not much signify when. Since such were her feelings,it only remained, he thought, to secure and e$pedite a marriage, which,in his very first conversation with 'ickham, he easily learnt had neverbeen 1his1 design. e confessed himself obliged to leave the regiment,on account of some debts of honour, which were very pressing; andscrupled not to lay all the ill%consequences of "ydia6s flight on herown folly alone. e meant to resign his commission immediately; and asto his future situation, he could con+ecture very little about it. emust go somewhere, but he did not know where, and he knew he should havenothing to live on.

Mr. &arcy asked him why he had not married your sister at once. #houghMr. Bennet was not imagined to be very rich, he would have been ableto do something for him, and his situation must have been benefited bymarriage. But he found, in reply to this question, that 'ickham stillcherished the hope of more effectually making his fortune by marriage insome other country. 0nder such circumstances, however, he was not likelyto be proof against the temptation of immediate relief.

#hey met several times, for there was much to be discussed. 'ickham of

course wanted more than he could get; but at length was reduced to bereasonable.

)very thing being settled between 1them1, Mr. &arcy6s ne$t step was tomake your uncle acquainted with it, and he first called in 9racechurchstreet the evening before came home. But Mr. 9ardiner could not beseen, and Mr. &arcy found, on further inquiry, that your father wasstill with him, but would quit town the ne$t morning. e did not +udgeyour father to be a person whom he could so properly consult as youruncle, and therefore readily postponed seeing him till after the



departure of the former. e did not leave his name, and till the ne$tday it was only known that a gentleman had called on business.

2n Saturday he came again. /our father was gone, your uncle at home,and, as said before, they had a great deal of talk together.

#hey met again on Sunday, and then 11 saw him too. t was not allsettled before Monday4 as soon as it was, the e$press was sent off to"ongbourn. But our visitor was very obstinate. fancy, "i**y, thatobstinacy is the real defect of his character, after all. e has beenaccused of many faults at different times, but 1this1 is the true one.!othing was to be done that he did not do himself; though am sure Hand do not speak it to be thanked, therefore say nothing about itI, youruncle would most readily have settled the whole.

#hey battled it together for a long time, which was more than eitherthe gentleman or lady concerned in it deserved. But at last your unclewas forced to yield, and instead of being allowed to be of use to hisniece, was forced to put up with only having the probable credit of it,which went sorely against the grain; and really believe your letter

this morning gave him great pleasure, because it required an e$planationthat would rob him of his borrowed feathers, and give the praise whereit was due. But, "i**y, this must go no farther than yourself, or 5aneat most.

/ou know pretty well, suppose, what has been done for the youngpeople. is debts are to be paid, amounting, believe, to considerablymore than a thousand pounds, another thousand in addition to her ownsettled upon 1her1, and his commission purchased. #he reason why allthis was to be done by him alone, was such as have given above. twas owing to him, to his reserve and want of proper consideration, that'ickham6s character had been so misunderstood, and consequently that hehad been received and noticed as he was. =erhaps there was some truthin 1this1; though doubt whether 1his1 reserve, or 1anybody6s1 reserve,can be answerable for the event. But in spite of all this fine talking,my dear "i**y, you may rest perfectly assured that your uncle wouldnever have yielded, if we had not given him credit for 1anotherinterest1 in the affair.

'hen all this was resolved on, he returned again to his friends, whowere still staying at =emberley; but it was agreed that he should be in"ondon once more when the wedding took place, and all money matters werethen to receive the last finish.

believe have now told you every thing. t is a relation whichyou tell me is to give you great surprise; hope at least it will notafford you any displeasure. "ydia came to us; and 'ickham had constant

admission to the house. 1e1 was e$actly what he had been, when knew him in ertfordshire; but would not tell you how little wassatisfied with her behaviour while she staid with us, if had notperceived, by 5ane6s letter last 'ednesday, that her conduct on cominghome was e$actly of a piece with it, and therefore what now tellyou can give you no fresh pain. talked to her repeatedly in the mostserious manner, representing to her all the wickedness of what she haddone, and all the unhappiness she had brought on her family. f sheheard me, it was by good luck, for am sure she did not listen. wassometimes quite provoked, but then recollected my dear )li*abeth and



5ane, and for their sakes had patience with her.

Mr. &arcy was punctual in his return, and as "ydia informed you,attended the wedding. e dined with us the ne$t day, and was to leavetown again on 'ednesday or #hursday. 'ill you be very angry with me, mydear "i**y, if take this opportunity of saying Hwhat was never boldenough to say beforeI how much like him. is behaviour to us has,in every respect, been as pleasing as when we were in &erbyshire. isunderstanding and opinions all please me; he wants nothing but a littlemore liveliness, and 1that1, if he marry 1prudently1, his wife may teachhim. thought him very sly;%%he hardly ever mentioned your name. Butslyness seems the fashion.

=ray forgive me if have been very presuming, or at least do notpunish me so far as to e$clude me from =. shall never be quite happytill have been all round the park. A low phaeton, with a nice littlepair of ponies, would be the very thing.

But must write no more. #he children have been wanting me this halfhour.

/ours, very sincerely,

M. 9A<&!)<.

#he contents of this letter threw )li*abeth into a flutter of spirits,in which it was difficult to determine whether pleasure or pain bore thegreatest share. #he vague and unsettled suspicions which uncertainty hadproduced of what Mr. &arcy might have been doing to forward her sister6smatch, which she had feared to encourage as an e$ertion of goodness toogreat to be probable, and at the same time dreaded to be +ust, from thepain of obligation, were proved beyond their greatest e$tent to be true(e had followed them purposely to town, he had taken on himself allthe trouble and mortification attendant on such a research; in whichsupplication had been necessary to a woman whom he must abominate anddespise, and where he was reduced to meet, frequently meet, reasonwith, persuade, and finally bribe, the man whom he always most wished toavoid, and whose very name it was punishment to him to pronounce. e haddone all this for a girl whom he could neither regard nor esteem. erheart did whisper that he had done it for her. But it was a hope shortlychecked by other considerations, and she soon felt that even her vanitywas insufficient, when required to depend on his affection for her%%fora woman who had already refused him%%as able to overcome a sentiment sonatural as abhorrence against relationship with 'ickham. Brother%in%lawof 'ickham( )very kind of pride must revolt from the connection. e had,to be sure, done much. She was ashamed to think how much. But he hadgiven a reason for his interference, which asked no e$traordinary

stretch of belief. t was reasonable that he should feel he had beenwrong; he had liberality, and he had the means of e$ercising it; andthough she would not place herself as his principal inducement, shecould, perhaps, believe that remaining partiality for her might assisthis endeavours in a cause where her peace of mind must be materiallyconcerned. t was painful, e$ceedingly painful, to know that they wereunder obligations to a person who could never receive a return. #heyowed the restoration of "ydia, her character, every thing, to him. 2h(how heartily did she grieve over every ungracious sensation she had everencouraged, every saucy speech she had ever directed towards him. 7or



herself she was humbled; but she was proud of him. =roud that in a causeof compassion and honour, he had been able to get the better of himself.She read over her aunt6s commendation of him again and again. twas hardly enough; but it pleased her. She was even sensible of somepleasure, though mi$ed with regret, on finding how steadfastly both sheand her uncle had been persuaded that affection and confidence subsistedbetween Mr. &arcy and herself.

She was roused from her seat, and her reflections, by some one6sapproach; and before she could strike into another path, she wasovertaken by 'ickham.

am afraid interrupt your solitary ramble, my dear sister3 said he,as he +oined her.

/ou certainly do, she replied with a smile; but it does not followthat the interruption must be unwelcome.

should be sorry indeed, if it were. 'e were always good friends; andnow we are better.

#rue. Are the others coming out3

do not know. Mrs. Bennet and "ydia are going in the carriage toMeryton. And so, my dear sister, find, from our uncle and aunt, thatyou have actually seen =emberley.

She replied in the affirmative.

almost envy you the pleasure, and yet believe it would be too muchfor me, or else could take it in my way to !ewcastle. And you saw theold housekeeper, suppose3 =oor <eynolds, she was always very fond ofme. But of course she did not mention my name to you.

/es, she did.

And what did she say3

#hat you were gone into the army, and she was afraid had%%not turnedout well. At such a distance as 1that1, you know, things are strangelymisrepresented.

-ertainly, he replied, biting his lips. )li*abeth hoped she hadsilenced him; but he soon afterwards said4

was surprised to see &arcy in town last month. 'e passed each otherseveral times. wonder what he can be doing there.

=erhaps preparing for his marriage with Miss de Bourgh, said)li*abeth. t must be something particular, to take him there at thistime of year.

0ndoubtedly. &id you see him while you were at "ambton3 thought understood from the 9ardiners that you had.

/es; he introduced us to his sister.



And do you like her3

>ery much.

have heard, indeed, that she is uncommonly improved within this yearor two. 'hen last saw her, she was not very promising. am very gladyou liked her. hope she will turn out well.

dare say she will; she has got over the most trying age.

&id you go by the village of 8ympton3

do not recollect that we did.

mention it, because it is the living which ought to have had. Amost delightful place(%%)$cellent =arsonage ouse( t would have suitedme in every respect.

ow should you have liked making sermons3

)$ceedingly well. should have considered it as part of my duty,and the e$ertion would soon have been nothing. 2ne ought not torepine;%%but, to be sure, it would have been such a thing for me( #hequiet, the retirement of such a life would have answered all my ideasof happiness( But it was not to be. &id you ever hear &arcy mention thecircumstance, when you were in 8ent3

have heard from authority, which thought 1as good1, that it wasleft you conditionally only, and at the will of the present patron.

/ou have. /es, there was something in 1that1; told you so from thefirst, you may remember.

1did1 hear, too, that there was a time, when sermon%making was notso palatable to you as it seems to be at present; that you actuallydeclared your resolution of never taking orders, and that the businesshad been compromised accordingly.

/ou did( and it was not wholly without foundation. /ou may rememberwhat told you on that point, when first we talked of it.

#hey were now almost at the door of the house, for she had walked fastto get rid of him; and unwilling, for her sister6s sake, to provoke him,she only said in reply, with a good%humoured smile4

-ome, Mr. 'ickham, we are brother and sister, you know. &o not letus quarrel about the past. n future, hope we shall be always of one

mind.

She held out her hand; he kissed it with affectionate gallantry, thoughhe hardly knew how to look, and they entered the house.

-hapter G



Mr. 'ickham was so perfectly satisfied with this conversation that henever again distressed himself, or provoked his dear sister )li*abeth,by introducing the sub+ect of it; and she was pleased to find that shehad said enough to keep him quiet.

#he day of his and "ydia6s departure soon came, and Mrs. Bennet wasforced to submit to a separation, which, as her husband by no meansentered into her scheme of their all going to !ewcastle, was likely tocontinue at least a twelvemonth.

2h( my dear "ydia, she cried, when shall we meet again3

2h, lord( don6t know. !ot these two or three years, perhaps.

'rite to me very often, my dear.

As often as can. But you know married women have never much time forwriting. My sisters may write to 1me1. #hey will have nothing else todo.

Mr. 'ickham6s adieus were much more affectionate than his wife6s. esmiled, looked handsome, and said many pretty things.

e is as fine a fellow, said Mr. Bennet, as soon as they were out ofthe house, as ever saw. e simpers, and smirks, and makes love tous all. am prodigiously proud of him. defy even Sir 'illiam "ucashimself to produce a more valuable son%in%law.

#he loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very dull for several days.

often think, said she, that there is nothing so bad as parting withone6s friends. 2ne seems so forlorn without them.

#his is the consequence, you see, Madam, of marrying a daughter, said)li*abeth. t must make you better satisfied that your other four aresingle.

t is no such thing. "ydia does not leave me because she is married,but only because her husband6s regiment happens to be so far off. fthat had been nearer, she would not have gone so soon.

But the spiritless condition which this event threw her into was shortlyrelieved, and her mind opened again to the agitation of hope, by anarticle of news which then began to be in circulation. #he housekeeperat !etherfield had received orders to prepare for the arrival of hermaster, who was coming down in a day or two, to shoot there for severalweeks. Mrs. Bennet was quite in the fidgets. She looked at 5ane, and

smiled and shook her head by turns.

'ell, well, and so Mr. Bingley is coming down, sister, Hfor Mrs.=hillips first brought her the newsI. 'ell, so much the better. !otthat care about it, though. e is nothing to us, you know, and amsure 11 never want to see him again. But, however, he is very welcometo come to !etherfield, if he likes it. And who knows what 1may1 happen3But that is nothing to us. /ou know, sister, we agreed long ago never tomention a word about it. And so, is it quite certain he is coming3



/ou may depend on it, replied the other, for Mrs. !icholls was inMeryton last night; saw her passing by, and went out myself on purposeto know the truth of it; and she told me that it was certain true. ecomes down on #hursday at the latest, very likely on 'ednesday. She wasgoing to the butcher6s, she told me, on purpose to order in some meat on'ednesday, and she has got three couple of ducks +ust fit to be killed.

Miss Bennet had not been able to hear of his coming without changingcolour. t was many months since she had mentioned his name to)li*abeth; but now, as soon as they were alone together, she said4

saw you look at me to%day, "i**y, when my aunt told us of the presentreport; and know appeared distressed. But don6t imagine it was fromany silly cause. was only confused for the moment, because felt that 1should1 be looked at. do assure you that the news does not affectme either with pleasure or pain. am glad of one thing, that he comesalone; because we shall see the less of him. !ot that am afraid of1myself1, but dread other people6s remarks.

)li*abeth did not know what to make of it. ad she not seen him in

&erbyshire, she might have supposed him capable of coming there with noother view than what was acknowledged; but she still thought him partialto 5ane, and she wavered as to the greater probability of his comingthere 1with1 his friend6s permission, or being bold enough to comewithout it.

/et it is hard, she sometimes thought, that this poor man cannotcome to a house which he has legally hired, without raising all thisspeculation( 1will1 leave him to himself.

n spite of what her sister declared, and really believed to be herfeelings in the e$pectation of his arrival, )li*abeth could easilyperceive that her spirits were affected by it. #hey were more disturbed,more unequal, than she had often seen them.

#he sub+ect which had been so warmly canvassed between their parents,about a twelvemonth ago, was now brought forward again.

As soon as ever Mr. Bingley comes, my dear, said Mrs. Bennet, youwill wait on him of course.

!o, no. /ou forced me into visiting him last year, and promised, if went to see him, he should marry one of my daughters. But it ended innothing, and will not be sent on a fool6s errand again.

is wife represented to him how absolutely necessary such an attentionwould be from all the neighbouring gentlemen, on his returning to

!etherfield.

6#is an etiquette despise, said he. f he wants our society,let him seek it. e knows where we live. will not spend my hoursin running after my neighbours every time they go away and come backagain.

'ell, all know is, that it will be abominably rude if you do not waiton him. But, however, that shan6t prevent my asking him to dine here, am determined. 'e must have Mrs. "ong and the 9ouldings soon. #hat will



make thirteen with ourselves, so there will be +ust room at table forhim.

-onsoled by this resolution, she was the better able to bear herhusband6s incivility; though it was very mortifying to know that herneighbours might all see Mr. Bingley, in consequence of it, before1they1 did. As the day of his arrival drew near,%%

begin to be sorry that he comes at all, said 5ane to her sister. twould be nothing; could see him with perfect indifference, but canhardly bear to hear it thus perpetually talked of. My mother means well;but she does not know, no one can know, how much suffer from what shesays. appy shall be, when his stay at !etherfield is over(

wish could say anything to comfort you, replied )li*abeth; but itis wholly out of my power. /ou must feel it; and the usual satisfactionof preaching patience to a sufferer is denied me, because you havealways so much.

Mr. Bingley arrived. Mrs. Bennet, through the assistance of servants,

contrived to have the earliest tidings of it, that the period of an$ietyand fretfulness on her side might be as long as it could. She countedthe days that must intervene before their invitation could be sent;hopeless of seeing him before. But on the third morning after hisarrival in ertfordshire, she saw him, from her dressing%room window,enter the paddock and ride towards the house.

er daughters were eagerly called to partake of her +oy. 5ane resolutelykept her place at the table; but )li*abeth, to satisfy her mother, wentto the window%%she looked,%%she saw Mr. &arcy with him, and sat downagain by her sister.

#here is a gentleman with him, mamma, said 8itty; who can it be3

Some acquaintance or other, my dear, suppose; am sure do notknow.

"a( replied 8itty, it looks +ust like that man that used to be withhim before. Mr. what6s%his%name. #hat tall, proud man.

9ood gracious( Mr. &arcy(%%and so it does, vow. 'ell, any friend ofMr. Bingley6s will always be welcome here, to be sure; but else mustsay that hate the very sight of him.

5ane looked at )li*abeth with surprise and concern. She knew but littleof their meeting in &erbyshire, and therefore felt for the awkwardnesswhich must attend her sister, in seeing him almost for the first time

after receiving his e$planatory letter. Both sisters were uncomfortableenough. )ach felt for the other, and of course for themselves; and theirmother talked on, of her dislike of Mr. &arcy, and her resolution to becivil to him only as Mr. Bingley6s friend, without being heard by eitherof them. But )li*abeth had sources of uneasiness which could not besuspected by 5ane, to whom she had never yet had courage to shew Mrs.9ardiner6s letter, or to relate her own change of sentiment towards him.#o 5ane, he could be only a man whose proposals she had refused,and whose merit she had undervalued; but to her own more e$tensiveinformation, he was the person to whom the whole family were indebted



for the first of benefits, and whom she regarded herself with aninterest, if not quite so tender, at least as reasonable and +ust aswhat 5ane felt for Bingley. er astonishment at his coming%%at hiscoming to !etherfield, to "ongbourn, and voluntarily seeking her again,was almost equal to what she had known on first witnessing his alteredbehaviour in &erbyshire.

#he colour which had been driven from her face, returned for half aminute with an additional glow, and a smile of delight added lustre toher eyes, as she thought for that space of time that his affection andwishes must still be unshaken. But she would not be secure.

"et me first see how he behaves, said she; it will then be earlyenough for e$pectation.

She sat intently at work, striving to be composed, and without daring tolift up her eyes, till an$ious curiosity carried them to the face ofher sister as the servant was approaching the door. 5ane looked a littlepaler than usual, but more sedate than )li*abeth had e$pected. 2n thegentlemen6s appearing, her colour increased; yet she received them with

tolerable ease, and with a propriety of behaviour equally free from anysymptom of resentment or any unnecessary complaisance.

)li*abeth said as little to either as civility would allow, and sat downagain to her work, with an eagerness which it did not often command. Shehad ventured only one glance at &arcy. e looked serious, as usual; and,she thought, more as he had been used to look in ertfordshire, than asshe had seen him at =emberley. But, perhaps he could not in her mother6spresence be what he was before her uncle and aunt. t was a painful, butnot an improbable, con+ecture.

Bingley, she had likewise seen for an instant, and in that short periodsaw him looking both pleased and embarrassed. e was received by Mrs.Bennet with a degree of civility which made her two daughters ashamed,especially when contrasted with the cold and ceremonious politeness ofher curtsey and address to his friend.

)li*abeth, particularly, who knew that her mother owed to the latterthe preservation of her favourite daughter from irremediable infamy,was hurt and distressed to a most painful degree by a distinction so illapplied.

&arcy, after inquiring of her how Mr. and Mrs. 9ardiner did, a questionwhich she could not answer without confusion, said scarcely anything. ewas not seated by her; perhaps that was the reason of his silence; butit had not been so in &erbyshire. #here he had talked to her friends,when he could not to herself. But now several minutes elapsed without

bringing the sound of his voice; and when occasionally, unable to resistthe impulse of curiosity, she raised her eyes to his face, she as oftenfound him looking at 5ane as at herself, and frequently on no ob+ect butthe ground. More thoughtfulness and less an$iety to please, than whenthey last met, were plainly e$pressed. She was disappointed, and angrywith herself for being so.

-ould e$pect it to be otherwise( said she. /et why did he come3

She was in no humour for conversation with anyone but himself; and to



him she had hardly courage to speak.

She inquired after his sister, but could do no more.

t is a long time, Mr. Bingley, since you went away, said Mrs. Bennet.

e readily agreed to it.

began to be afraid you would never come back again. =eople 1did1 sayyou meant to quit the place entirely at Michaelmas; but, however, hopeit is not true. A great many changes have happened in the neighbourhood,since you went away. Miss "ucas is married and settled. And one of myown daughters. suppose you have heard of it; indeed, you must haveseen it in the papers. t was in #he #imes and #he -ourier, know;though it was not put in as it ought to be. t was only said, 6"ately,9eorge 'ickham, )sq. to Miss "ydia Bennet,6 without there being asyllable said of her father, or the place where she lived, or anything.t was my brother 9ardiner6s drawing up too, and wonder how he came tomake such an awkward business of it. &id you see it3

Bingley replied that he did, and made his congratulations. )li*abethdared not lift up her eyes. ow Mr. &arcy looked, therefore, she couldnot tell.

t is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter well married,continued her mother, but at the same time, Mr. Bingley, it is veryhard to have her taken such a way from me. #hey are gone down to!ewcastle, a place quite northward, it seems, and there they are to stay do not know how long. is regiment is there; for suppose you haveheard of his leaving the %%%%shire, and of his being gone into theregulars. #hank eaven( he has 1some1 friends, though perhaps not somany as he deserves.

)li*abeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr. &arcy, was in suchmisery of shame, that she could hardly keep her seat. t drew from her,however, the e$ertion of speaking, which nothing else had so effectuallydone before; and she asked Bingley whether he meant to make any stay inthe country at present. A few weeks, he believed.

'hen you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley, said her mother, beg you will come here, and shoot as many as you please on Mr.Bennet6s manor. am sure he will be vastly happy to oblige you, andwill save all the best of the covies for you.

)li*abeth6s misery increased, at such unnecessary, such officiousattention( 'ere the same fair prospect to arise at present as hadflattered them a year ago, every thing, she was persuaded, would be

hastening to the same ve$atious conclusion. At that instant, she feltthat years of happiness could not make 5ane or herself amends formoments of such painful confusion.

#he first wish of my heart, said she to herself, is never more tobe in company with either of them. #heir society can afford no pleasurethat will atone for such wretchedness as this( "et me never see eitherone or the other again(

/et the misery, for which years of happiness were to offer no



compensation, received soon afterwards material relief, from observinghow much the beauty of her sister re%kindled the admiration of herformer lover. 'hen first he came in, he had spoken to her but little;but every five minutes seemed to be giving her more of his attention. efound her as handsome as she had been last year; as good natured, andas unaffected, though not quite so chatty. 5ane was an$ious that nodifference should be perceived in her at all, and was really persuadedthat she talked as much as ever. But her mind was so busily engaged,that she did not always know when she was silent.

'hen the gentlemen rose to go away, Mrs. Bennet was mindful of herintended civility, and they were invited and engaged to dine at"ongbourn in a few days time.

/ou are quite a visit in my debt, Mr. Bingley, she added, for whenyou went to town last winter, you promised to take a family dinner withus, as soon as you returned. have not forgot, you see; and assureyou, was very much disappointed that you did not come back and keepyour engagement.

Bingley looked a little silly at this reflection, and said something ofhis concern at having been prevented by business. #hey then went away.

Mrs. Bennet had been strongly inclined to ask them to stay and dinethere that day; but, though she always kept a very good table, she didnot think anything less than two courses could be good enough for a manon whom she had such an$ious designs, or satisfy the appetite and prideof one who had ten thousand a year.

-hapter :

As soon as they were gone, )li*abeth walked out to recover her spirits;or in other words, to dwell without interruption on those sub+ects thatmust deaden them more. Mr. &arcy6s behaviour astonished and ve$ed her.

'hy, if he came only to be silent, grave, and indifferent, said she,did he come at all3

She could settle it in no way that gave her pleasure.

e could be still amiable, still pleasing, to my uncle and aunt, whenhe was in town; and why not to me3 f he fears me, why come hither3 fhe no longer cares for me, why silent3 #easing, teasing, man( willthink no more about him.

er resolution was for a short time involuntarily kept by the approachof her sister, who +oined her with a cheerful look, which showed herbetter satisfied with their visitors, than )li*abeth.

!ow, said she, that this first meeting is over, feel perfectlyeasy. know my own strength, and shall never be embarrassed again byhis coming. am glad he dines here on #uesday. t will then be publiclyseen that, on both sides, we meet only as common and indifferentacquaintance.



/es, very indifferent indeed, said )li*abeth, laughingly. 2h, 5ane,take care.

My dear "i**y, you cannot think me so weak, as to be in danger now3

think you are in very great danger of making him as much in love withyou as ever.

J J J J J

#hey did not see the gentlemen again till #uesday; and Mrs. Bennet, inthe meanwhile, was giving way to all the happy schemes, which the goodhumour and common politeness of Bingley, in half an hour6s visit, hadrevived.

2n #uesday there was a large party assembled at "ongbourn; and the twowho were most an$iously e$pected, to the credit of their punctualityas sportsmen, were in very good time. 'hen they repaired to thedining%room, )li*abeth eagerly watched to see whether Bingley would take

the place, which, in all their former parties, had belonged to him, byher sister. er prudent mother, occupied by the same ideas, forboreto invite him to sit by herself. 2n entering the room, he seemed tohesitate; but 5ane happened to look round, and happened to smile4 it wasdecided. e placed himself by her.

)li*abeth, with a triumphant sensation, looked towards his friend.e bore it with noble indifference, and she would have imagined thatBingley had received his sanction to be happy, had she not seen his eyeslikewise turned towards Mr. &arcy, with an e$pression of half%laughingalarm.

is behaviour to her sister was such, during dinner time, as showed anadmiration of her, which, though more guarded than formerly, persuaded)li*abeth, that if left wholly to himself, 5ane6s happiness, and hisown, would be speedily secured. #hough she dared not depend upon theconsequence, she yet received pleasure from observing his behaviour. tgave her all the animation that her spirits could boast; for she was inno cheerful humour. Mr. &arcy was almost as far from her as the tablecould divide them. e was on one side of her mother. She knew how littlesuch a situation would give pleasure to either, or make either appear toadvantage. She was not near enough to hear any of their discourse, butshe could see how seldom they spoke to each other, and how formal andcold was their manner whenever they did. er mother6s ungraciousness,made the sense of what they owed him more painful to )li*abeth6s mind;and she would, at times, have given anything to be privileged to tellhim that his kindness was neither unknown nor unfelt by the whole of the

family.

She was in hopes that the evening would afford some opportunity ofbringing them together; that the whole of the visit would not pass awaywithout enabling them to enter into something more of conversation thanthe mere ceremonious salutation attending his entrance. An$iousand uneasy, the period which passed in the drawing%room, before thegentlemen came, was wearisome and dull to a degree that almost made heruncivil. She looked forward to their entrance as the point on which allher chance of pleasure for the evening must depend.



f he does not come to me, 1then1, said she, shall give him up forever.

#he gentlemen came; and she thought he looked as if he would haveanswered her hopes; but, alas( the ladies had crowded round the table,where Miss Bennet was making tea, and )li*abeth pouring out the coffee,in so close a confederacy that there was not a single vacancy near herwhich would admit of a chair. And on the gentlemen6s approaching, one ofthe girls moved closer to her than ever, and said, in a whisper4

#he men shan6t come and part us, am determined. 'e want none of them;do we3

&arcy had walked away to another part of the room. She followed him withher eyes, envied everyone to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience enoughto help anybody to coffee; and then was enraged against herself forbeing so silly(

A man who has once been refused( ow could ever be foolish enough to

e$pect a renewal of his love3 s there one among the se$, who would notprotest against such a weakness as a second proposal to the same woman3#here is no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings(

She was a little revived, however, by his bringing back his coffee cuphimself; and she sei*ed the opportunity of saying4

s your sister at =emberley still3

/es, she will remain there till -hristmas.

And quite alone3 ave all her friends left her3

Mrs. Annesley is with her. #he others have been gone on to Scarborough,these three weeks.

She could think of nothing more to say; but if he wished to conversewith her, he might have better success. e stood by her, however, forsome minutes, in silence; and, at last, on the young lady6s whisperingto )li*abeth again, he walked away.

'hen the tea%things were removed, and the card%tables placed, the ladiesall rose, and )li*abeth was then hoping to be soon +oined by him,when all her views were overthrown by seeing him fall a victim to hermother6s rapacity for whist players, and in a few moments after seatedwith the rest of the party. She now lost every e$pectation of pleasure.#hey were confined for the evening at different tables, and she had

nothing to hope, but that his eyes were so often turned towards her sideof the room, as to make him play as unsuccessfully as herself.

Mrs. Bennet had designed to keep the two !etherfield gentlemen tosupper; but their carriage was unluckily ordered before any of theothers, and she had no opportunity of detaining them.

'ell girls, said she, as soon as they were left to themselves, 'hatsay you to the day3 think every thing has passed off uncommonly well, assure you. #he dinner was as well dressed as any ever saw. #he



venison was roasted to a turn%%and everybody said they never saw sofat a haunch. #he soup was fifty times better than what we had at the"ucases6 last week; and even Mr. &arcy acknowledged, that the partridgeswere remarkably well done; and suppose he has two or three 7renchcooks at least. And, my dear 5ane, never saw you look in greaterbeauty. Mrs. "ong said so too, for asked her whether you did not. Andwhat do you think she said besides3 6Ah( Mrs. Bennet, we shall have herat !etherfield at last.6 She did indeed. do think Mrs. "ong is as gooda creature as ever lived%%and her nieces are very pretty behaved girls,and not at all handsome4 like them prodigiously.

Mrs. Bennet, in short, was in very great spirits; she had seen enough ofBingley6s behaviour to 5ane, to be convinced that she would get him atlast; and her e$pectations of advantage to her family, when in a happyhumour, were so far beyond reason, that she was quite disappointed atnot seeing him there again the ne$t day, to make his proposals.

t has been a very agreeable day, said Miss Bennet to )li*abeth. #heparty seemed so well selected, so suitable one with the other. hope wemay often meet again.

)li*abeth smiled.

"i**y, you must not do so. /ou must not suspect me. t mortifies me. assure you that have now learnt to en+oy his conversation as anagreeable and sensible young man, without having a wish beyond it. amperfectly satisfied, from what his manners now are, that he never hadany design of engaging my affection. t is only that he is blessedwith greater sweetness of address, and a stronger desire of generallypleasing, than any other man.

/ou are very cruel, said her sister, you will not let me smile, andare provoking me to it every moment.

ow hard it is in some cases to be believed(

And how impossible in others(

But why should you wish to persuade me that feel more than acknowledge3

#hat is a question which hardly know how to answer. 'e all love toinstruct, though we can teach only what is not worth knowing. 7orgiveme; and if you persist in indifference, do not make me your confidante.

-hapter

A few days after this visit, Mr. Bingley called again, and alone. isfriend had left him that morning for "ondon, but was to return home inten days time. e sat with them above an hour, and was in remarkablygood spirits. Mrs. Bennet invited him to dine with them; but, with manye$pressions of concern, he confessed himself engaged elsewhere.

!e$t time you call, said she, hope we shall be more lucky.



e should be particularly happy at any time, etc. etc.; and if she wouldgive him leave, would take an early opportunity of waiting on them.

-an you come to%morrow3

/es, he had no engagement at all for to%morrow; and her invitation wasaccepted with alacrity.

e came, and in such very good time that the ladies were none of themdressed. n ran Mrs. Bennet to her daughter6s room, in her dressinggown, and with her hair half finished, crying out4

My dear 5ane, make haste and hurry down. e is come%%Mr. Bingley iscome. e is, indeed. Make haste, make haste. ere, Sarah, come to MissBennet this moment, and help her on with her gown. !ever mind Miss"i**y6s hair.

'e will be down as soon as we can, said 5ane; but dare say 8itty isforwarder than either of us, for she went up stairs half an hour ago.

2h( hang 8itty( what has she to do with it3 -ome be quick, be quick('here is your sash, my dear3

But when her mother was gone, 5ane would not be prevailed on to go downwithout one of her sisters.

#he same an$iety to get them by themselves was visible again in theevening. After tea, Mr. Bennet retired to the library, as was hiscustom, and Mary went up stairs to her instrument. #wo obstacles ofthe five being thus removed, Mrs. Bennet sat looking and winking at)li*abeth and -atherine for a considerable time, without making anyimpression on them. )li*abeth would not observe her; and when at last8itty did, she very innocently said, 'hat is the matter mamma3 'hat doyou keep winking at me for3 'hat am to do3

!othing child, nothing. did not wink at you. She then sat stillfive minutes longer; but unable to waste such a precious occasion, shesuddenly got up, and saying to 8itty, -ome here, my love, want tospeak to you, took her out of the room. 5ane instantly gave a lookat )li*abeth which spoke her distress at such premeditation, and herentreaty that 1she1 would not give in to it. n a few minutes, Mrs.Bennet half%opened the door and called out4

"i**y, my dear, want to speak with you.

)li*abeth was forced to go.

'e may as well leave them by themselves you know; said her mother, assoon as she was in the hall. 8itty and are going up stairs to sit inmy dressing%room.

)li*abeth made no attempt to reason with her mother, but remainedquietly in the hall, till she and 8itty were out of sight, then returnedinto the drawing%room.

Mrs. Bennet6s schemes for this day were ineffectual. Bingley was every



thing that was charming, e$cept the professed lover of her daughter. isease and cheerfulness rendered him a most agreeable addition to theirevening party; and he bore with the ill%+udged officiousness of themother, and heard all her silly remarks with a forbearance and commandof countenance particularly grateful to the daughter.

e scarcely needed an invitation to stay supper; and before he wentaway, an engagement was formed, chiefly through his own and Mrs.Bennet6s means, for his coming ne$t morning to shoot with her husband.

After this day, 5ane said no more of her indifference. !ot a word passedbetween the sisters concerning Bingley; but )li*abeth went to bed inthe happy belief that all must speedily be concluded, unless Mr. &arcyreturned within the stated time. Seriously, however, she felt tolerablypersuaded that all this must have taken place with that gentleman6sconcurrence.

Bingley was punctual to his appointment; and he and Mr. Bennet spentthe morning together, as had been agreed on. #he latter was much moreagreeable than his companion e$pected. #here was nothing of presumption

or folly in Bingley that could provoke his ridicule, or disgust him intosilence; and he was more communicative, and less eccentric, than theother had ever seen him. Bingley of course returned with him to dinner;and in the evening Mrs. Bennet6s invention was again at work to getevery body away from him and her daughter. )li*abeth, who had a letterto write, went into the breakfast room for that purpose soon after tea;for as the others were all going to sit down to cards, she could not bewanted to counteract her mother6s schemes.

But on returning to the drawing%room, when her letter was finished, shesaw, to her infinite surprise, there was reason to fear that her motherhad been too ingenious for her. 2n opening the door, she perceived hersister and Bingley standing together over the hearth, as if engaged inearnest conversation; and had this led to no suspicion, the faces ofboth, as they hastily turned round and moved away from each other, wouldhave told it all. #heir situation was awkward enough; but 1hers1 shethought was still worse. !ot a syllable was uttered by either; and)li*abeth was on the point of going away again, when Bingley, who aswell as the other had sat down, suddenly rose, and whispering a fewwords to her sister, ran out of the room.

5ane could have no reserves from )li*abeth, where confidence would givepleasure; and instantly embracing her, acknowledged, with the liveliestemotion, that she was the happiest creature in the world.

6#is too much( she added, by far too much. do not deserve it. 2h(why is not everybody as happy3

)li*abeth6s congratulations were given with a sincerity, a warmth,a delight, which words could but poorly e$press. )very sentence ofkindness was a fresh source of happiness to 5ane. But she would notallow herself to stay with her sister, or say half that remained to besaid for the present.

must go instantly to my mother; she cried. would not on anyaccount trifle with her affectionate solicitude; or allow her to hear itfrom anyone but myself. e is gone to my father already. 2h( "i**y, to



know that what have to relate will give such pleasure to all my dearfamily( how shall bear so much happiness(

She then hastened away to her mother, who had purposely broken up thecard party, and was sitting up stairs with 8itty.

)li*abeth, who was left by herself, now smiled at the rapidity and easewith which an affair was finally settled, that had given them so manyprevious months of suspense and ve$ation.

And this, said she, is the end of all his friend6s an$iouscircumspection( of all his sister6s falsehood and contrivance( thehappiest, wisest, most reasonable end(

n a few minutes she was +oined by Bingley, whose conference with herfather had been short and to the purpose.

'here is your sister3 said he hastily, as he opened the door.

'ith my mother up stairs. She will be down in a moment, dare say.

e then shut the door, and, coming up to her, claimed the good wishesand affection of a sister. )li*abeth honestly and heartily e$pressedher delight in the prospect of their relationship. #hey shook hands withgreat cordiality; and then, till her sister came down, she had to listento all he had to say of his own happiness, and of 5ane6s perfections;and in spite of his being a lover, )li*abeth really believed all hise$pectations of felicity to be rationally founded, because they had forbasis the e$cellent understanding, and super%e$cellent disposition of5ane, and a general similarity of feeling and taste between her andhimself.

t was an evening of no common delight to them all; the satisfaction ofMiss Bennet6s mind gave a glow of such sweet animation to her face, asmade her look handsomer than ever. 8itty simpered and smiled, and hopedher turn was coming soon. Mrs. Bennet could not give her consent orspeak her approbation in terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings,though she talked to Bingley of nothing else for half an hour; and whenMr. Bennet +oined them at supper, his voice and manner plainly showedhow really happy he was.

!ot a word, however, passed his lips in allusion to it, till theirvisitor took his leave for the night; but as soon as he was gone, heturned to his daughter, and said4

5ane, congratulate you. /ou will be a very happy woman.

5ane went to him instantly, kissed him, and thanked him for hisgoodness.

/ou are a good girl; he replied, and have great pleasure inthinking you will be so happily settled. have not a doubt of yourdoing very well together. /our tempers are by no means unlike. /ou areeach of you so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; soeasy, that every servant will cheat you; and so generous, that you willalways e$ceed your income.



hope not so. mprudence or thoughtlessness in money matters would beunpardonable in me.

)$ceed their income( My dear Mr. Bennet, cried his wife, what are youtalking of3 'hy, he has four or five thousand a year, and very likelymore. #hen addressing her daughter, 2h( my dear, dear 5ane, am sohappy( am sure shan6t get a wink of sleep all night. knew how itwould be. always said it must be so, at last. was sure you could notbe so beautiful for nothing( remember, as soon as ever saw him, whenhe first came into ertfordshire last year, thought how likely it wasthat you should come together. 2h( he is the handsomest young man thatever was seen(

'ickham, "ydia, were all forgotten. 5ane was beyond competition herfavourite child. At that moment, she cared for no other. er youngersisters soon began to make interest with her for ob+ects of happinesswhich she might in future be able to dispense.

Mary petitioned for the use of the library at !etherfield; and 8ittybegged very hard for a few balls there every winter.

Bingley, from this time, was of course a daily visitor at "ongbourn;coming frequently before breakfast, and always remaining till aftersupper; unless when some barbarous neighbour, who could not be enoughdetested, had given him an invitation to dinner which he thought himselfobliged to accept.

)li*abeth had now but little time for conversation with her sister; forwhile he was present, 5ane had no attention to bestow on anyone else;but she found herself considerably useful to both of them in those hoursof separation that must sometimes occur. n the absence of 5ane, healways attached himself to )li*abeth, for the pleasure of talking ofher; and when Bingley was gone, 5ane constantly sought the same means ofrelief.

e has made me so happy, said she, one evening, by telling me that hewas totally ignorant of my being in town last spring( had not believedit possible.

suspected as much, replied )li*abeth. But how did he account forit3

t must have been his sister6s doing. #hey were certainly no friends tohis acquaintance with me, which cannot wonder at, since he might havechosen so much more advantageously in many respects. But when they see,as trust they will, that their brother is happy with me, they willlearn to be contented, and we shall be on good terms again; though we

can never be what we once were to each other.

#hat is the most unforgiving speech, said )li*abeth, that everheard you utter. 9ood girl( t would ve$ me, indeed, to see you againthe dupe of Miss Bingley6s pretended regard.

'ould you believe it, "i**y, that when he went to town last !ovember,he really loved me, and nothing but a persuasion of 1my1 beingindifferent would have prevented his coming down again(



e made a little mistake to be sure; but it is to the credit of hismodesty.

#his naturally introduced a panegyric from 5ane on his diffidence, andthe little value he put on his own good qualities. )li*abeth was pleasedto find that he had not betrayed the interference of his friend; for,though 5ane had the most generous and forgiving heart in the world, sheknew it was a circumstance which must pre+udice her against him.

am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever e$isted( cried5ane. 2h( "i**y, why am thus singled from my family, and blessedabove them all( f could but see 1you1 as happy( f there 1were1 butsuch another man for you(

f you were to give me forty such men, never could be so happy asyou. #ill have your disposition, your goodness, never can have yourhappiness. !o, no, let me shift for myself; and, perhaps, if have verygood luck, may meet with another Mr. -ollins in time.

#he situation of affairs in the "ongbourn family could not be long a

secret. Mrs. Bennet was privileged to whisper it to Mrs. =hillips,and she ventured, without any permission, to do the same by all herneighbours in Meryton.

#he Bennets were speedily pronounced to be the luckiest family in theworld, though only a few weeks before, when "ydia had first run away,they had been generally proved to be marked out for misfortune.

-hapter ?

2ne morning, about a week after Bingley6s engagement with 5ane had beenformed, as he and the females of the family were sitting together in thedining%room, their attention was suddenly drawn to the window, by thesound of a carriage; and they perceived a chaise and four driving upthe lawn. t was too early in the morning for visitors, and besides, theequipage did not answer to that of any of their neighbours. #he horseswere post; and neither the carriage, nor the livery of the servant whopreceded it, were familiar to them. As it was certain, however, thatsomebody was coming, Bingley instantly prevailed on Miss Bennet to avoidthe confinement of such an intrusion, and walk away with him into theshrubbery. #hey both set off, and the con+ectures of the remaining threecontinued, though with little satisfaction, till the door was thrownopen and their visitor entered. t was "ady -atherine de Bourgh.

#hey were of course all intending to be surprised; but theirastonishment was beyond their e$pectation; and on the part of Mrs.Bennet and 8itty, though she was perfectly unknown to them, eveninferior to what )li*abeth felt.

She entered the room with an air more than usually ungracious, made noother reply to )li*abeth6s salutation than a slight inclination of thehead, and sat down without saying a word. )li*abeth had mentioned hername to her mother on her ladyship6s entrance, though no request ofintroduction had been made.



Mrs. Bennet, all ama*ement, though flattered by having a guest of suchhigh importance, received her with the utmost politeness. After sittingfor a moment in silence, she said very stiffly to )li*abeth,

hope you are well, Miss Bennet. #hat lady, suppose, is yourmother.

)li*abeth replied very concisely that she was.

And 1that1 suppose is one of your sisters.

/es, madam, said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak to "ady -atherine.She is my youngest girl but one. My youngest of all is lately married,and my eldest is somewhere about the grounds, walking with a young manwho, believe, will soon become a part of the family.

/ou have a very small park here, returned "ady -atherine after a shortsilence.

t is nothing in comparison of <osings, my lady, dare say; but assure you it is much larger than Sir 'illiam "ucas6s.

#his must be a most inconvenient sitting room for the evening, insummer; the windows are full west.

Mrs. Bennet assured her that they never sat there after dinner, and thenadded4

May take the liberty of asking your ladyship whether you left Mr. andMrs. -ollins well.

/es, very well. saw them the night before last.

)li*abeth now e$pected that she would produce a letter for her from-harlotte, as it seemed the only probable motive for her calling. But noletter appeared, and she was completely pu**led.

Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, begged her ladyship to take somerefreshment; but "ady -atherine very resolutely, and not very politely,declined eating anything; and then, rising up, said to )li*abeth,

Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of a little wildernesson one side of your lawn. should be glad to take a turn in it, if youwill favour me with your company.

9o, my dear, cried her mother, and show her ladyship about the

different walks. think she will be pleased with the hermitage.

)li*abeth obeyed, and running into her own room for her parasol,attended her noble guest downstairs. As they passed through thehall, "ady -atherine opened the doors into the dining%parlour anddrawing%room, and pronouncing them, after a short survey, to be decentlooking rooms, walked on.

er carriage remained at the door, and )li*abeth saw that herwaiting%woman was in it. #hey proceeded in silence along the gravel walk



that led to the copse; )li*abeth was determined to make no effort forconversation with a woman who was now more than usually insolent anddisagreeable.

ow could ever think her like her nephew3 said she, as she looked inher face.

As soon as they entered the copse, "ady -atherine began in the followingmanner4%%

/ou can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my+ourney hither. /our own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why come.

)li*abeth looked with unaffected astonishment.

ndeed, you are mistaken, Madam. have not been at all able to accountfor the honour of seeing you here.

Miss Bennet, replied her ladyship, in an angry tone, you ought to

know, that am not to be trifled with. But however insincere 1you1 maychoose to be, you shall not find 1me1 so. My character has ever beencelebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of suchmoment as this, shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a mostalarming nature reached me two days ago. was told that not only yoursister was on the point of being most advantageously married, but thatyou, that Miss )li*abeth Bennet, would, in all likelihood, be soonafterwards united to my nephew, my own nephew, Mr. &arcy. #hough 1know1 it must be a scandalous falsehood, though would not in+ure himso much as to suppose the truth of it possible, instantly resolvedon setting off for this place, that might make my sentiments known toyou.

f you believed it impossible to be true, said )li*abeth, colouringwith astonishment and disdain, wonder you took the trouble of comingso far. 'hat could your ladyship propose by it3

At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted.

/our coming to "ongbourn, to see me and my family, said )li*abethcoolly, will be rather a confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a reportis in e$istence.

f( &o you then pretend to be ignorant of it3 as it not beenindustriously circulated by yourselves3 &o you not know that such areport is spread abroad3

never heard that it was.

And can you likewise declare, that there is no foundation for it3

do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. /ou mayask questions which shall not choose to answer.

#his is not to be borne. Miss Bennet, insist on being satisfied. ashe, has my nephew, made you an offer of marriage3



/our ladyship has declared it to be impossible.

t ought to be so; it must be so, while he retains the use of hisreason. But your arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation,have made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. /oumay have drawn him in.

f have, shall be the last person to confess it.

Miss Bennet, do you know who am3 have not been accustomed to suchlanguage as this. am almost the nearest relation he has in the world,and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns.

But you are not entitled to know mine; nor will such behaviour as this,ever induce me to be e$plicit.

"et me be rightly understood. #his match, to which you have thepresumption to aspire, can never take place. !o, never. Mr. &arcy isengaged to my daughter. !ow what have you to say3

2nly this; that if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he willmake an offer to me.

"ady -atherine hesitated for a moment, and then replied4

#he engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. 7rom their infancy,they have been intended for each other. t was the favourite wish of1his1 mother, as well as of hers. 'hile in their cradles, we plannedthe union4 and now, at the moment when the wishes of both sisters wouldbe accomplished in their marriage, to be prevented by a young woman ofinferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied tothe family( &o you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends3 #o histacit engagement with Miss de Bourgh3 Are you lost to every feeling ofpropriety and delicacy3 ave you not heard me say that from his earliesthours he was destined for his cousin3

/es, and had heard it before. But what is that to me3 f there isno other ob+ection to my marrying your nephew, shall certainly notbe kept from it by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him tomarry Miss de Bourgh. /ou both did as much as you could in planning themarriage. ts completion depended on others. f Mr. &arcy is neitherby honour nor inclination confined to his cousin, why is not he to makeanother choice3 And if am that choice, why may not accept him3

Because honour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest, forbid it. /es,Miss Bennet, interest; for do not e$pect to be noticed by his family orfriends, if you wilfully act against the inclinations of all. /ou will

be censured, slighted, and despised, by everyone connected with him./our alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentionedby any of us.

#hese are heavy misfortunes, replied )li*abeth. But the wife of Mr.&arcy must have such e$traordinary sources of happiness necessarilyattached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no causeto repine.

2bstinate, headstrong girl( am ashamed of you( s this your gratitude



for my attentions to you last spring3 s nothing due to me on thatscore3 "et us sit down. /ou are to understand, Miss Bennet, that camehere with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will be dissuaded from it. have not been used to submit to any person6swhims. have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment.

1#hat1 will make your ladyship6s situation at present more pitiable;but it will have no effect on me.

will not be interrupted. ear me in silence. My daughter and mynephew are formed for each other. #hey are descended, on the maternalside, from the same noble line; and, on the father6s, from respectable,honourable, and ancient%%though untitled%%families. #heir fortune onboth sides is splendid. #hey are destined for each other by the voice ofevery member of their respective houses; and what is to divide them3#he upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connections,or fortune. s this to be endured( But it must not, shall not be. f youwere sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere inwhich you have been brought up.

n marrying your nephew, should not consider myself as quitting thatsphere. e is a gentleman; am a gentleman6s daughter; so far we areequal.

#rue. /ou 1are1 a gentleman6s daughter. But who was your mother3'ho are your uncles and aunts3 &o not imagine me ignorant of theircondition.

'hatever my connections may be, said )li*abeth, if your nephew doesnot ob+ect to them, they can be nothing to 1you1.

#ell me once for all, are you engaged to him3

#hough )li*abeth would not, for the mere purpose of obliging "ady-atherine, have answered this question, she could not but say, after amoment6s deliberation4

am not.

"ady -atherine seemed pleased.

And will you promise me, never to enter into such an engagement3

will make no promise of the kind.

Miss Bennet am shocked and astonished. e$pected to find a morereasonable young woman. But do not deceive yourself into a belief that

will ever recede. shall not go away till you have given me theassurance require.

And certainly 1never1 shall give it. am not to be intimidated intoanything so wholly unreasonable. /our ladyship wants Mr. &arcy to marryyour daughter; but would my giving you the wished%for promise make theirmarriage at all more probable3 Supposing him to be attached to me, wouldmy refusing to accept his hand make him wish to bestow it on his cousin3Allow me to say, "ady -atherine, that the arguments with which you havesupported this e$traordinary application have been as frivolous as the



application was ill%+udged. /ou have widely mistaken my character, ifyou think can be worked on by such persuasions as these. ow far yournephew might approve of your interference in his affairs, cannot tell;but you have certainly no right to concern yourself in mine. must beg,therefore, to be importuned no farther on the sub+ect.

!ot so hasty, if you please. have by no means done. #o all theob+ections have already urged, have still another to add. amno stranger to the particulars of your youngest sister6s infamouselopement. know it all; that the young man6s marrying her was apatched%up business, at the e$pence of your father and uncles. And issuch a girl to be my nephew6s sister3 s her husband, is the son of hislate father6s steward, to be his brother3 eaven and earth(%%of what areyou thinking3 Are the shades of =emberley to be thus polluted3

/ou can now have nothing further to say, she resentfully answered./ou have insulted me in every possible method. must beg to return tothe house.

And she rose as she spoke. "ady -atherine rose also, and they turned

back. er ladyship was highly incensed.

/ou have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of my nephew(0nfeeling, selfish girl( &o you not consider that a connection with youmust disgrace him in the eyes of everybody3

"ady -atherine, have nothing further to say. /ou know my sentiments.

/ou are then resolved to have him3

have said no such thing. am only resolved to act in that manner,which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, withoutreference to 1you1, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me.

t is well. /ou refuse, then, to oblige me. /ou refuse to obey theclaims of duty, honour, and gratitude. /ou are determined to ruin him inthe opinion of all his friends, and make him the contempt of the world.

!either duty, nor honour, nor gratitude, replied )li*abeth, have anypossible claim on me, in the present instance. !o principle of eitherwould be violated by my marriage with Mr. &arcy. And with regard to theresentment of his family, or the indignation of the world, if the former1were1 e$cited by his marrying me, it would not give me one moment6sconcern%%and the world in general would have too much sense to +oin inthe scorn.

And this is your real opinion( #his is your final resolve( >ery well.

shall now know how to act. &o not imagine, Miss Bennet, that yourambition will ever be gratified. came to try you. hoped to find youreasonable; but, depend upon it, will carry my point.

n this manner "ady -atherine talked on, till they were at the door ofthe carriage, when, turning hastily round, she added, take no leaveof you, Miss Bennet. send no compliments to your mother. /ou deserveno such attention. am most seriously displeased.

)li*abeth made no answer; and without attempting to persuade her



ladyship to return into the house, walked quietly into it herself. Sheheard the carriage drive away as she proceeded up stairs. er motherimpatiently met her at the door of the dressing%room, to ask why "ady-atherine would not come in again and rest herself.

She did not choose it, said her daughter, she would go.

She is a very fine%looking woman( and her calling here was prodigiouslycivil( for she only came, suppose, to tell us the -ollinses werewell. She is on her road somewhere, dare say, and so, passing throughMeryton, thought she might as well call on you. suppose she hadnothing particular to say to you, "i**y3

)li*abeth was forced to give into a little falsehood here; for toacknowledge the substance of their conversation was impossible.

-hapter @

#he discomposure of spirits which this e$traordinary visit threw)li*abeth into, could not be easily overcome; nor could she, for manyhours, learn to think of it less than incessantly. "ady -atherine, itappeared, had actually taken the trouble of this +ourney from <osings,for the sole purpose of breaking off her supposed engagement with Mr.&arcy. t was a rational scheme, to be sure( but from what the reportof their engagement could originate, )li*abeth was at a loss to imagine;till she recollected that 1his1 being the intimate friend of Bingley,and 1her1 being the sister of 5ane, was enough, at a time when thee$pectation of one wedding made everybody eager for another, to supplythe idea. She had not herself forgotten to feel that the marriage of hersister must bring them more frequently together. And her neighboursat "ucas "odge, therefore Hfor through their communication with the-ollinses, the report, she concluded, had reached "ady -atherineI, hadonly set that down as almost certain and immediate, which she had lookedforward to as possible at some future time.

n revolving "ady -atherine6s e$pressions, however, she could not helpfeeling some uneasiness as to the possible consequence of her persistingin this interference. 7rom what she had said of her resolution toprevent their marriage, it occurred to )li*abeth that she must meditatean application to her nephew; and how 1he1 might take a similarrepresentation of the evils attached to a connection with her, she darednot pronounce. She knew not the e$act degree of his affection for hisaunt, or his dependence on her +udgment, but it was natural to supposethat he thought much higher of her ladyship than 1she1 could do; and it

was certain that, in enumerating the miseries of a marriage with 1one1,whose immediate connections were so unequal to his own, his aunt wouldaddress him on his weakest side. 'ith his notions of dignity, he wouldprobably feel that the arguments, which to )li*abeth had appeared weakand ridiculous, contained much good sense and solid reasoning.

f he had been wavering before as to what he should do, which had oftenseemed likely, the advice and entreaty of so near a relation mightsettle every doubt, and determine him at once to be as happy as dignityunblemished could make him. n that case he would return no more. "ady



-atherine might see him in her way through town; and his engagement toBingley of coming again to !etherfield must give way.

f, therefore, an e$cuse for not keeping his promise should come to hisfriend within a few days, she added, shall know how to understandit. shall then give over every e$pectation, every wish of hisconstancy. f he is satisfied with only regretting me, when he mighthave obtained my affections and hand, shall soon cease to regret himat all.

J J J J J

#he surprise of the rest of the family, on hearing who their visitor hadbeen, was very great; but they obligingly satisfied it, with the samekind of supposition which had appeased Mrs. Bennet6s curiosity; and)li*abeth was spared from much teasing on the sub+ect.

#he ne$t morning, as she was going downstairs, she was met by herfather, who came out of his library with a letter in his hand.

"i**y, said he, was going to look for you; come into my room.

She followed him thither; and her curiosity to know what he had totell her was heightened by the supposition of its being in some mannerconnected with the letter he held. t suddenly struck her that itmight be from "ady -atherine; and she anticipated with dismay all theconsequent e$planations.

She followed her father to the fire place, and they both sat down. ethen said,

have received a letter this morning that has astonished mee$ceedingly. As it principally concerns yourself, you ought to know itscontents. did not know before, that had two daughters on the brinkof matrimony. "et me congratulate you on a very important conquest.

#he colour now rushed into )li*abeth6s cheeks in the instantaneousconviction of its being a letter from the nephew, instead of the aunt;and she was undetermined whether most to be pleased that he e$plainedhimself at all, or offended that his letter was not rather addressed toherself; when her father continued4

/ou look conscious. /oung ladies have great penetration in such mattersas these; but think may defy even 1your1 sagacity, to discover thename of your admirer. #his letter is from Mr. -ollins.

7rom Mr. -ollins( and what can 1he1 have to say3

Something very much to the purpose of course. e begins withcongratulations on the approaching nuptials of my eldest daughter, ofwhich, it seems, he has been told by some of the good%natured, gossiping"ucases. shall not sport with your impatience, by reading what he sayson that point. 'hat relates to yourself, is as follows4 6aving thusoffered you the sincere congratulations of Mrs. -ollins and myself onthis happy event, let me now add a short hint on the sub+ect of another;of which we have been advertised by the same authority. /our daughter)li*abeth, it is presumed, will not long bear the name of Bennet, after



her elder sister has resigned it, and the chosen partner of her fate maybe reasonably looked up to as one of the most illustrious personages inthis land.6

-an you possibly guess, "i**y, who is meant by this3 6#his younggentleman is blessed, in a peculiar way, with every thing the heart ofmortal can most desire,%%splendid property, noble kindred, and e$tensivepatronage. /et in spite of all these temptations, let me warn my cousin)li*abeth, and yourself, of what evils you may incur by a precipitateclosure with this gentleman6s proposals, which, of course, you will beinclined to take immediate advantage of.6

ave you any idea, "i**y, who this gentleman is3 But now it comes out4

6My motive for cautioning you is as follows. 'e have reason to imaginethat his aunt, "ady -atherine de Bourgh, does not look on the match witha friendly eye.6

1Mr. &arcy1, you see, is the man( !ow, "i**y, think 1have1surprised you. -ould he, or the "ucases, have pitched on any man within

the circle of our acquaintance, whose name would have given the liemore effectually to what they related3 Mr. &arcy, who never looks at anywoman but to see a blemish, and who probably never looked at you in hislife( t is admirable(

)li*abeth tried to +oin in her father6s pleasantry, but could only forceone most reluctant smile. !ever had his wit been directed in a manner solittle agreeable to her.

Are you not diverted3

2h( yes. =ray read on.

6After mentioning the likelihood of this marriage to her ladyship lastnight, she immediately, with her usual condescension, e$pressed what shefelt on the occasion; when it became apparent, that on the score of somefamily ob+ections on the part of my cousin, she would never give herconsent to what she termed so disgraceful a match. thought it my dutyto give the speediest intelligence of this to my cousin, that she andher noble admirer may be aware of what they are about, and not runhastily into a marriage which has not been properly sanctioned.6 Mr.-ollins moreover adds, 6 am truly re+oiced that my cousin "ydia6s sadbusiness has been so well hushed up, and am only concerned that theirliving together before the marriage took place should be so generallyknown. must not, however, neglect the duties of my station, or refrainfrom declaring my ama*ement at hearing that you received the youngcouple into your house as soon as they were married. t was an

encouragement of vice; and had been the rector of "ongbourn, shouldvery strenuously have opposed it. /ou ought certainly to forgive them,as a -hristian, but never to admit them in your sight, or allow theirnames to be mentioned in your hearing.6 #hat is his notion of -hristianforgiveness( #he rest of his letter is only about his dear -harlotte6ssituation, and his e$pectation of a young olive%branch. But, "i**y, youlook as if you did not en+oy it. /ou are not going to be 1missish1, hope, and pretend to be affronted at an idle report. 7or what do welive, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in ourturn3



2h( cried )li*abeth, am e$cessively diverted. But it is sostrange(

/es%%1that1 is what makes it amusing. ad they fi$ed on any other manit would have been nothing; but 1his1 perfect indifference, and 1your1pointed dislike, make it so delightfully absurd( Much as abominatewriting, would not give up Mr. -ollins6s correspondence for anyconsideration. !ay, when read a letter of his, cannot help givinghim the preference even over 'ickham, much as value the impudence andhypocrisy of my son%in%law. And pray, "i**y, what said "ady -atherineabout this report3 &id she call to refuse her consent3

#o this question his daughter replied only with a laugh; and as it hadbeen asked without the least suspicion, she was not distressed byhis repeating it. )li*abeth had never been more at a loss to make herfeelings appear what they were not. t was necessary to laugh, when shewould rather have cried. er father had most cruelly mortified her, bywhat he said of Mr. &arcy6s indifference, and she could do nothing butwonder at such a want of penetration, or fear that perhaps, instead of

his seeing too little, she might have fancied too much.

-hapter

nstead of receiving any such letter of e$cuse from his friend, as)li*abeth half e$pected Mr. Bingley to do, he was able to bring &arcywith him to "ongbourn before many days had passed after "ady -atherine6svisit. #he gentlemen arrived early; and, before Mrs. Bennet had timeto tell him of their having seen his aunt, of which her daughter satin momentary dread, Bingley, who wanted to be alone with 5ane, proposedtheir all walking out. t was agreed to. Mrs. Bennet was not in thehabit of walking; Mary could never spare time; but the remaining fiveset off together. Bingley and 5ane, however, soon allowed the othersto outstrip them. #hey lagged behind, while )li*abeth, 8itty, and &arcywere to entertain each other. >ery little was said by either; 8ittywas too much afraid of him to talk; )li*abeth was secretly forming adesperate resolution; and perhaps he might be doing the same.

#hey walked towards the "ucases, because 8itty wished to call uponMaria; and as )li*abeth saw no occasion for making it a general concern,when 8itty left them she went boldly on with him alone. !ow was themoment for her resolution to be e$ecuted, and, while her courage washigh, she immediately said4

Mr. &arcy, am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of givingrelief to my own feelings, care not how much may be wounding yours. can no longer help thanking you for your une$ampled kindness to mypoor sister. )ver since have known it, have been most an$ious toacknowledge to you how gratefully feel it. 'ere it known to the restof my family, should not have merely my own gratitude to e$press.

am sorry, e$ceedingly sorry, replied &arcy, in a tone of surpriseand emotion, that you have ever been informed of what may, in amistaken light, have given you uneasiness. did not think Mrs. 9ardiner



was so little to be trusted.

/ou must not blame my aunt. "ydia6s thoughtlessness first betrayed tome that you had been concerned in the matter; and, of course, couldnot rest till knew the particulars. "et me thank you again and again,in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which inducedyou to take so much trouble, and bear so many mortifications, for thesake of discovering them.

f you 1will1 thank me, he replied, let it be for yourself alone.#hat the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the otherinducements which led me on, shall not attempt to deny. But your1family1 owe me nothing. Much as respect them, believe thoughtonly of 1you1.

)li*abeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause,her companion added, /ou are too generous to trifle with me. f yourfeelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. 1My1affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silenceme on this sub+ect for ever.

)li*abeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and an$iety ofhis situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though notvery fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergoneso material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to makeher receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances. #hehappiness which this reply produced, was such as he had probably neverfelt before; and he e$pressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and aswarmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. ad )li*abethbeen able to encounter his eye, she might have seen how well thee$pression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him;but, though she could not look, she could listen, and he told her offeelings, which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made hisaffection every moment more valuable.

#hey walked on, without knowing in what direction. #here was too much tobe thought, and felt, and said, for attention to any other ob+ects. Shesoon learnt that they were indebted for their present good understandingto the efforts of his aunt, who did call on him in her return through"ondon, and there relate her +ourney to "ongbourn, its motive, and thesubstance of her conversation with )li*abeth; dwelling emphatically onevery e$pression of the latter which, in her ladyship6s apprehension,peculiarly denoted her perverseness and assurance; in the belief thatsuch a relation must assist her endeavours to obtain that promisefrom her nephew which she had refused to give. But, unluckily for herladyship, its effect had been e$actly contrariwise.

t taught me to hope, said he, as had scarcely ever allowed myselfto hope before. knew enough of your disposition to be certain that,had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would haveacknowledged it to "ady -atherine, frankly and openly.

)li*abeth coloured and laughed as she replied, /es, you know enoughof my frankness to believe me capable of 1that1. After abusing you soabominably to your face, could have no scruple in abusing you to allyour relations.



'hat did you say of me, that did not deserve3 7or, though youraccusations were ill%founded, formed on mistaken premises, mybehaviour to you at the time had merited the severest reproof. t wasunpardonable. cannot think of it without abhorrence.

'e will not quarrel for the greater share of blame anne$ed to thatevening, said )li*abeth. #he conduct of neither, if strictly e$amined,will be irreproachable; but since then, we have both, hope, improvedin civility.

cannot be so easily reconciled to myself. #he recollection of what then said, of my conduct, my manners, my e$pressions during the whole ofit, is now, and has been many months, ine$pressibly painful to me. /ourreproof, so well applied, shall never forget4 6had you behaved in amore gentlemanlike manner.6 #hose were your words. /ou know not, you canscarcely conceive, how they have tortured me;%%though it was some time, confess, before was reasonable enough to allow their +ustice.

was certainly very far from e$pecting them to make so strong animpression. had not the smallest idea of their being ever felt in such

a way.

can easily believe it. /ou thought me then devoid of every properfeeling, am sure you did. #he turn of your countenance shall neverforget, as you said that could not have addressed you in any possibleway that would induce you to accept me.

2h( do not repeat what then said. #hese recollections will not do atall. assure you that have long been most heartily ashamed of it.

&arcy mentioned his letter. &id it, said he, did it soon make youthink better of me3 &id you, on reading it, give any credit to itscontents3

She e$plained what its effect on her had been, and how gradually all herformer pre+udices had been removed.

knew, said he, that what wrote must give you pain, but it wasnecessary. hope you have destroyed the letter. #here was one partespecially, the opening of it, which should dread your having thepower of reading again. can remember some e$pressions which might+ustly make you hate me.

#he letter shall certainly be burnt, if you believe it essential to thepreservation of my regard; but, though we have both reason to think myopinions not entirely unalterable, they are not, hope, quite so easilychanged as that implies.

'hen wrote that letter, replied &arcy, believed myself perfectlycalm and cool, but am since convinced that it was written in adreadful bitterness of spirit.

#he letter, perhaps, began in bitterness, but it did not end so. #headieu is charity itself. But think no more of the letter. #he feelingsof the person who wrote, and the person who received it, are nowso widely different from what they were then, that every unpleasantcircumstance attending it ought to be forgotten. /ou must learn some



of my philosophy. #hink only of the past as its remembrance gives youpleasure.

cannot give you credit for any philosophy of the kind. /ourretrospections must be so totally void of reproach, that the contentmentarising from them is not of philosophy, but, what is much better, ofinnocence. But with me, it is not so. =ainful recollections will intrudewhich cannot, which ought not, to be repelled. have been a selfishbeing all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child was taught what was right, but was not taught to correct my temper. was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit.0nfortunately an only son Hfor many years an only childI, was spoiltby my parents, who, though good themselves Hmy father, particularly, allthat was benevolent and amiableI, allowed, encouraged, almost taughtme to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own familycircle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at leastto think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such might still have beenbut for you, dearest, loveliest )li*abeth( 'hat do not owe you( /outaught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you,

was properly humbled. came to you without a doubt of my reception./ou showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a womanworthy of being pleased.

ad you then persuaded yourself that should3

ndeed had. 'hat will you think of my vanity3 believed you to bewishing, e$pecting my addresses.

My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally, assureyou. never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead mewrong. ow you must have hated me after 1that1 evening3

ate you( was angry perhaps at first, but my anger soon began to takea proper direction.

am almost afraid of asking what you thought of me, when we met at=emberley. /ou blamed me for coming3

!o indeed; felt nothing but surprise.

/our surprise could not be greater than 1mine1 in being noticed by you.My conscience told me that deserved no e$traordinary politeness, and confess that did not e$pect to receive 1more1 than my due.

My ob+ect then, replied &arcy, was to show you, by every civility inmy power, that was not so mean as to resent the past; and hoped to

obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill opinion, by letting yousee that your reproofs had been attended to. ow soon any other wishesintroduced themselves can hardly tell, but believe in about half anhour after had seen you.

e then told her of 9eorgiana6s delight in her acquaintance, and of herdisappointment at its sudden interruption; which naturally leading tothe cause of that interruption, she soon learnt that his resolution offollowing her from &erbyshire in quest of her sister had been formedbefore he quitted the inn, and that his gravity and thoughtfulness



there had arisen from no other struggles than what such a purpose mustcomprehend.

She e$pressed her gratitude again, but it was too painful a sub+ect toeach, to be dwelt on farther.

After walking several miles in a leisurely manner, and too busy to knowanything about it, they found at last, on e$amining their watches, thatit was time to be at home.

'hat could become of Mr. Bingley and 5ane( was a wonder whichintroduced the discussion of their affairs. &arcy was delighted withtheir engagement; his friend had given him the earliest information ofit.

must ask whether you were surprised3 said )li*abeth.

!ot at all. 'hen went away, felt that it would soon happen.

#hat is to say, you had given your permission. guessed as much. And

though he e$claimed at the term, she found that it had been pretty muchthe case.

2n the evening before my going to "ondon, said he, made aconfession to him, which believe ought to have made long ago. told him of all that had occurred to make my former interference in hisaffairs absurd and impertinent. is surprise was great. e had never hadthe slightest suspicion. told him, moreover, that believed myselfmistaken in supposing, as had done, that your sister was indifferentto him; and as could easily perceive that his attachment to her wasunabated, felt no doubt of their happiness together.

)li*abeth could not help smiling at his easy manner of directing hisfriend.

&id you speak from your own observation, said she, when you told himthat my sister loved him, or merely from my information last spring3

7rom the former. had narrowly observed her during the two visitswhich had lately made here; and was convinced of her affection.

And your assurance of it, suppose, carried immediate conviction tohim.

t did. Bingley is most unaffectedly modest. is diffidence hadprevented his depending on his own +udgment in so an$ious a case, buthis reliance on mine made every thing easy. was obliged to confess

one thing, which for a time, and not un+ustly, offended him. could notallow myself to conceal that your sister had been in town three monthslast winter, that had known it, and purposely kept it from him. e wasangry. But his anger, am persuaded, lasted no longer than he remainedin any doubt of your sister6s sentiments. e has heartily forgiven menow.

)li*abeth longed to observe that Mr. Bingley had been a most delightfulfriend; so easily guided that his worth was invaluable; but she checkedherself. She remembered that he had yet to learn to be laughed at,



and it was rather too early to begin. n anticipating the happinessof Bingley, which of course was to be inferior only to his own, hecontinued the conversation till they reached the house. n the hall theyparted.

-hapter C

My dear "i**y, where can you have been walking to3 was a questionwhich )li*abeth received from 5ane as soon as she entered their room,and from all the others when they sat down to table. She had only tosay in reply, that they had wandered about, till she was beyond her ownknowledge. She coloured as she spoke; but neither that, nor anythingelse, awakened a suspicion of the truth.

#he evening passed quietly, unmarked by anything e$traordinary. #heacknowledged lovers talked and laughed, the unacknowledged were silent.&arcy was not of a disposition in which happiness overflows in mirth;

and )li*abeth, agitated and confused, rather 1knew1 that she was happythan 1felt1 herself to be so; for, besides the immediate embarrassment,there were other evils before her. She anticipated what would be feltin the family when her situation became known; she was aware that noone liked him but 5ane; and even feared that with the others it was adislike which not all his fortune and consequence might do away.

At night she opened her heart to 5ane. #hough suspicion was very farfrom Miss Bennet6s general habits, she was absolutely incredulous here.

/ou are +oking, "i**y. #his cannot be(%%engaged to Mr. &arcy( !o, no,you shall not deceive me. know it to be impossible.

#his is a wretched beginning indeed( My sole dependence was on you; and am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. /et, indeed, amin earnest. speak nothing but the truth. e still loves me, and we areengaged.

5ane looked at her doubtingly. 2h, "i**y( it cannot be. know how muchyou dislike him.

/ou know nothing of the matter. 1#hat1 is all to be forgot. =erhaps did not always love him so well as do now. But in such cases asthese, a good memory is unpardonable. #his is the last time shall everremember it myself.

Miss Bennet still looked all ama*ement. )li*abeth again, and more

seriously assured her of its truth.

9ood eaven( can it be really so( /et now must believe you, cried5ane. My dear, dear "i**y, would%% do congratulate you%%but are youcertain3 forgive the question%%are you quite certain that you can behappy with him3

#here can be no doubt of that. t is settled between us already, thatwe are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased,5ane3 Shall you like to have such a brother3



>ery, very much. !othing could give either Bingley or myself moredelight. But we considered it, we talked of it as impossible. And do youreally love him quite well enough3 2h, "i**y( do anything rather thanmarry without affection. Are you quite sure that you feel what you oughtto do3

2h, yes( /ou will only think feel 1more1 than ought to do, when tell you all.

'hat do you mean3

'hy, must confess that love him better than do Bingley. amafraid you will be angry.

My dearest sister, now 1be1 serious. want to talk very seriously. "etme know every thing that am to know, without delay. 'ill you tell mehow long you have loved him3

t has been coming on so gradually, that hardly know when it began.

But believe must date it from my first seeing his beautiful groundsat =emberley.

Another entreaty that she would be serious, however, produced thedesired effect; and she soon satisfied 5ane by her solemn assurancesof attachment. 'hen convinced on that article, Miss Bennet had nothingfurther to wish.

!ow am quite happy, said she, for you will be as happy as myself. always had a value for him. 'ere it for nothing but his love of you, must always have esteemed him; but now, as Bingley6s friend and yourhusband, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. But"i**y, you have been very sly, very reserved with me. ow little did youtell me of what passed at =emberley and "ambton( owe all that knowof it to another, not to you.

)li*abeth told her the motives of her secrecy. She had been unwillingto mention Bingley; and the unsettled state of her own feelings had madeher equally avoid the name of his friend. But now she would no longerconceal from her his share in "ydia6s marriage. All was acknowledged,and half the night spent in conversation.

J J J J J

9ood gracious( cried Mrs. Bennet, as she stood at a window the ne$tmorning, if that disagreeable Mr. &arcy is not coming here again withour dear Bingley( 'hat can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always

coming here3 had no notion but he would go a%shooting, or something orother, and not disturb us with his company. 'hat shall we do with him3"i**y, you must walk out with him again, that he may not be in Bingley6sway.

)li*abeth could hardly help laughing at so convenient a proposal; yetwas really ve$ed that her mother should be always giving him such anepithet.

As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at her so e$pressively, and



shook hands with such warmth, as left no doubt of his good information;and he soon afterwards said aloud, Mrs. Bennet, have you no more laneshereabouts in which "i**y may lose her way again to%day3

advise Mr. &arcy, and "i**y, and 8itty, said Mrs. Bennet, to walkto 2akham Mount this morning. t is a nice long walk, and Mr. &arcy hasnever seen the view.

t may do very well for the others, replied Mr. Bingley; but amsure it will be too much for 8itty. 'on6t it, 8itty3 8itty owned thatshe had rather stay at home. &arcy professed a great curiosity to seethe view from the Mount, and )li*abeth silently consented. As she wentup stairs to get ready, Mrs. Bennet followed her, saying4

am quite sorry, "i**y, that you should be forced to have thatdisagreeable man all to yourself. But hope you will not mind it4 it isall for 5ane6s sake, you know; and there is no occasion for talkingto him, e$cept +ust now and then. So, do not put yourself toinconvenience.

&uring their walk, it was resolved that Mr. Bennet6s consent should beasked in the course of the evening. )li*abeth reserved to herself theapplication for her mother6s. She could not determine how her motherwould take it; sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeurwould be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man. But whether shewere violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it, itwas certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do creditto her sense; and she could no more bear that Mr. &arcy should hearthe first raptures of her +oy, than the first vehemence of herdisapprobation.

J J J J J

n the evening, soon after Mr. Bennet withdrew to the library, she sawMr. &arcy rise also and follow him, and her agitation on seeing it wase$treme. She did not fear her father6s opposition, but he was going tobe made unhappy; and that it should be through her means%%that 1she1,his favourite child, should be distressing him by her choice, should befilling him with fears and regrets in disposing of her%%was a wretchedreflection, and she sat in misery till Mr. &arcy appeared again, when,looking at him, she was a little relieved by his smile. n a few minuteshe approached the table where she was sitting with 8itty; and, whilepretending to admire her work said in a whisper, 9o to your father, hewants you in the library. She was gone directly.

er father was walking about the room, looking grave and an$ious."i**y, said he, what are you doing3 Are you out of your senses, to be

accepting this man3 ave not you always hated him3

ow earnestly did she then wish that her former opinions had been morereasonable, her e$pressions more moderate( t would have spared her frome$planations and professions which it was e$ceedingly awkward to give;but they were now necessary, and she assured him, with some confusion,of her attachment to Mr. &arcy.

2r, in other words, you are determined to have him. e is rich, to besure, and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than 5ane.



But will they make you happy3

ave you any other ob+ection, said )li*abeth, than your belief of myindifference3

!one at all. 'e all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; butthis would be nothing if you really liked him.

do, do like him, she replied, with tears in her eyes, love him.ndeed he has no improper pride. e is perfectly amiable. /ou do notknow what he really is; then pray do not pain me by speaking of him insuch terms.

"i**y, said her father, have given him my consent. e is the kindof man, indeed, to whom should never dare refuse anything, which hecondescended to ask. now give it to 1you1, if you are resolved onhaving him. But let me advise you to think better of it. knowyour disposition, "i**y. know that you could be neither happy norrespectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband; unless you lookedup to him as a superior. /our lively talents would place you in the

greatest danger in an unequal marriage. /ou could scarcely escapediscredit and misery. My child, let me not have the grief of seeing1you1 unable to respect your partner in life. /ou know not what you areabout.

)li*abeth, still more affected, was earnest and solemn in her reply; andat length, by repeated assurances that Mr. &arcy was really the ob+ectof her choice, by e$plaining the gradual change which her estimation ofhim had undergone, relating her absolute certainty that his affectionwas not the work of a day, but had stood the test of many months6suspense, and enumerating with energy all his good qualities, she didconquer her father6s incredulity, and reconcile him to the match.

'ell, my dear, said he, when she ceased speaking, have no more tosay. f this be the case, he deserves you. could not have parted withyou, my "i**y, to anyone less worthy.

#o complete the favourable impression, she then told him what Mr. &arcyhad voluntarily done for "ydia. e heard her with astonishment.

#his is an evening of wonders, indeed( And so, &arcy did every thing;made up the match, gave the money, paid the fellow6s debts, and got himhis commission( So much the better. t will save me a world of troubleand economy. ad it been your uncle6s doing, must and 1would1 havepaid him; but these violent young lovers carry every thing their ownway. shall offer to pay him to%morrow; he will rant and storm abouthis love for you, and there will be an end of the matter.

e then recollected her embarrassment a few days before, on his readingMr. -ollins6s letter; and after laughing at her some time, allowed herat last to go%%saying, as she quitted the room, f any young men comefor Mary or 8itty, send them in, for am quite at leisure.

)li*abeth6s mind was now relieved from a very heavy weight; and, afterhalf an hour6s quiet reflection in her own room, she was able to +ointhe others with tolerable composure. )very thing was too recent forgaiety, but the evening passed tranquilly away; there was no longer



anything material to be dreaded, and the comfort of ease and familiaritywould come in time.

'hen her mother went up to her dressing%room at night, she followed her,and made the important communication. ts effect was most e$traordinary;for on first hearing it, Mrs. Bennet sat quite still, and unable toutter a syllable. !or was it under many, many minutes that she couldcomprehend what she heard; though not in general backward to creditwhat was for the advantage of her family, or that came in the shape of alover to any of them. She began at length to recover, to fidget about inher chair, get up, sit down again, wonder, and bless herself.

9ood gracious( "ord bless me( only think( dear me( Mr. &arcy( 'ho wouldhave thought it( And is it really true3 2h( my sweetest "i**y( how richand how great you will be( 'hat pin%money, what +ewels, what carriagesyou will have( 5ane6s is nothing to it%%nothing at all. am sopleased%%so happy. Such a charming man(%%so handsome( so tall(%%2h, mydear "i**y( pray apologise for my having disliked him so much before. hope he will overlook it. &ear, dear "i**y. A house in town( )very thingthat is charming( #hree daughters married( #en thousand a year( 2h,

"ord( 'hat will become of me. shall go distracted.

#his was enough to prove that her approbation need not be doubted4 and)li*abeth, re+oicing that such an effusion was heard only by herself,soon went away. But before she had been three minutes in her own room,her mother followed her.

My dearest child, she cried, can think of nothing else( #enthousand a year, and very likely more( 6#is as good as a "ord( And aspecial licence. /ou must and shall be married by a special licence. Butmy dearest love, tell me what dish Mr. &arcy is particularly fond of,that may have it to%morrow.

#his was a sad omen of what her mother6s behaviour to the gentlemanhimself might be; and )li*abeth found that, though in the certainpossession of his warmest affection, and secure of her relations6consent, there was still something to be wished for. But the morrowpassed off much better than she e$pected; for Mrs. Bennet luckily stoodin such awe of her intended son%in%law that she ventured not to speak tohim, unless it was in her power to offer him any attention, or mark herdeference for his opinion.

)li*abeth had the satisfaction of seeing her father taking pains to getacquainted with him; and Mr. Bennet soon assured her that he was risingevery hour in his esteem.

admire all my three sons%in%law highly, said he. 'ickham, perhaps,

is my favourite; but think shall like 1your1 husband quite as wellas 5ane6s.

-hapter ?E

)li*abeth6s spirits soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr.&arcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. ow could



you begin3 said she. can comprehend your going on charmingly, whenyou had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the firstplace3

cannot fi$ on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, whichlaid the foundation. t is too long ago. was in the middle before knew that 1had1 begun.

My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners%%my behaviourto 1you1 was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and never spoketo you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. !ow be sincere;did you admire me for my impertinence3

7or the liveliness of your mind, did.

/ou may as well call it impertinence at once. t was very little less.#he fact is, that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officiousattention. /ou were disgusted with the women who were always speaking,and looking, and thinking for 1your1 approbation alone. roused, andinterested you, because was so unlike 1them1. ad you not been really

amiable, you would have hated me for it; but in spite of the pains youtook to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and +ust; andin your heart, you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduouslycourted you. #here%% have saved you the trouble of accounting forit; and really, all things considered, begin to think it perfectlyreasonable. #o be sure, you knew no actual good of me%%but nobody thinksof 1that1 when they fall in love.

'as there no good in your affectionate behaviour to 5ane while she wasill at !etherfield3

&earest 5ane( who could have done less for her3 But make a virtue of itby all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you areto e$aggerate them as much as possible; and, in return, it belongs to meto find occasions for teasing and quarrelling with you as often as maybe; and shall begin directly by asking you what made you so unwillingto come to the point at last. 'hat made you so shy of me, when you firstcalled, and afterwards dined here3 'hy, especially, when you called, didyou look as if you did not care about me3

Because you were grave and silent, and gave me no encouragement.

But was embarrassed.

And so was .

/ou might have talked to me more when you came to dinner.

A man who had felt less, might.

ow unlucky that you should have a reasonable answer to give, and that should be so reasonable as to admit it( But wonder how long you1would1 have gone on, if you had been left to yourself. wonder whenyou 1would1 have spoken, if had not asked you( My resolution ofthanking you for your kindness to "ydia had certainly great effect.1#oo much1, am afraid; for what becomes of the moral, if our comfortsprings from a breach of promise3 for ought not to have mentioned the



sub+ect. #his will never do.

/ou need not distress yourself. #he moral will be perfectly fair. "ady-atherine6s un+ustifiable endeavours to separate us were the means ofremoving all my doubts. am not indebted for my present happiness toyour eager desire of e$pressing your gratitude. was not in a humourto wait for any opening of yours. My aunt6s intelligence had given mehope, and was determined at once to know every thing.

"ady -atherine has been of infinite use, which ought to make her happy,for she loves to be of use. But tell me, what did you come down to!etherfield for3 'as it merely to ride to "ongbourn and be embarrassed3or had you intended any more serious consequence3

My real purpose was to see 1you1, and to +udge, if could, whether might ever hope to make you love me. My avowed one, or what avowed tomyself, was to see whether your sister were still partial to Bingley,and if she were, to make the confession to him which have since made.

Shall you ever have courage to announce to "ady -atherine what is to

befall her3

am more likely to want more time than courage, )li*abeth. But itought to be done, and if you will give me a sheet of paper, it shall bedone directly.

And if had not a letter to write myself, might sit by you andadmire the evenness of your writing, as another young lady once did. But have an aunt, too, who must not be longer neglected.

7rom an unwillingness to confess how much her intimacy with Mr. &arcyhad been over%rated, )li*abeth had never yet answered Mrs. 9ardiner6slong letter; but now, having 1that1 to communicate which she knew wouldbe most welcome, she was almost ashamed to find that her uncle andaunt had already lost three days of happiness, and immediately wrote asfollows4

would have thanked you before, my dear aunt, as ought to have done,for your long, kind, satisfactory, detail of particulars; but to say thetruth, was too cross to write. /ou supposed more than really e$isted.But 1now1 suppose as much as you choose; give a loose rein to yourfancy, indulge your imagination in every possible flight which thesub+ect will afford, and unless you believe me actually married, youcannot greatly err. /ou must write again very soon, and praise him agreat deal more than you did in your last. thank you, again and again,for not going to the "akes. ow could be so silly as to wish it( /ouridea of the ponies is delightful. 'e will go round the =ark every day.

am the happiest creature in the world. =erhaps other people have said sobefore, but not one with such +ustice. am happier even than 5ane; sheonly smiles, laugh. Mr. &arcy sends you all the love in the world thathe can spare from me. /ou are all to come to =emberley at -hristmas./ours, etc.

Mr. &arcy6s letter to "ady -atherine was in a different style; and stilldifferent from either was what Mr. Bennet sent to Mr. -ollins, in replyto his last.



&)A< S<,

must trouble you once more for congratulations. )li*abeth will soonbe the wife of Mr. &arcy. -onsole "ady -atherine as well as you can.But, if were you, would stand by the nephew. e has more to give.

/ours sincerely, etc.

Miss Bingley6s congratulations to her brother, on his approachingmarriage, were all that was affectionate and insincere. She wrote evento 5ane on the occasion, to e$press her delight, and repeat all herformer professions of regard. 5ane was not deceived, but she wasaffected; and though feeling no reliance on her, could not help writingher a much kinder answer than she knew was deserved.

#he +oy which Miss &arcy e$pressed on receiving similar information,was as sincere as her brother6s in sending it. 7our sides of paper wereinsufficient to contain all her delight, and all her earnest desire ofbeing loved by her sister.

Before any answer could arrive from Mr. -ollins, or any congratulationsto )li*abeth from his wife, the "ongbourn family heard that the-ollinses were come themselves to "ucas "odge. #he reason of thissudden removal was soon evident. "ady -atherine had been renderedso e$ceedingly angry by the contents of her nephew6s letter, that-harlotte, really re+oicing in the match, was an$ious to get away tillthe storm was blown over. At such a moment, the arrival of her friendwas a sincere pleasure to )li*abeth, though in the course of theirmeetings she must sometimes think the pleasure dearly bought, when shesaw Mr. &arcy e$posed to all the parading and obsequious civility ofher husband. e bore it, however, with admirable calmness. e could evenlisten to Sir 'illiam "ucas, when he complimented him on carrying awaythe brightest +ewel of the country, and e$pressed his hopes of their allmeeting frequently at St. 5ames6s, with very decent composure. f he didshrug his shoulders, it was not till Sir 'illiam was out of sight.

Mrs. =hillips6s vulgarity was another, and perhaps a greater, ta$ on hisforbearance; and though Mrs. =hillips, as well as her sister, stood intoo much awe of him to speak with the familiarity which Bingley6s goodhumour encouraged, yet, whenever she 1did1 speak, she must be vulgar.!or was her respect for him, though it made her more quiet, at alllikely to make her more elegant. )li*abeth did all she could to shieldhim from the frequent notice of either, and was ever an$ious to keephim to herself, and to those of her family with whom he might conversewithout mortification; and though the uncomfortable feelings arisingfrom all this took from the season of courtship much of its pleasure, itadded to the hope of the future; and she looked forward with delight to

the time when they should be removed from society so little pleasingto either, to all the comfort and elegance of their family party at=emberley.

-hapter ?D

appy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet got



rid of her two most deserving daughters. 'ith what delighted prideshe afterwards visited Mrs. Bingley, and talked of Mrs. &arcy, maybe guessed. wish could say, for the sake of her family, that theaccomplishment of her earnest desire in the establishment of so manyof her children produced so happy an effect as to make her a sensible,amiable, well%informed woman for the rest of her life; though perhaps itwas lucky for her husband, who might not have relished domestic felicityin so unusual a form, that she still was occasionally nervous andinvariably silly.

Mr. Bennet missed his second daughter e$ceedingly; his affection for herdrew him oftener from home than anything else could do. e delighted ingoing to =emberley, especially when he was least e$pected.

Mr. Bingley and 5ane remained at !etherfield only a twelvemonth. So neara vicinity to her mother and Meryton relations was not desirable even to1his1 easy temper, or 1her1 affectionate heart. #he darling wish of hissisters was then gratified; he bought an estate in a neighbouring countyto &erbyshire, and 5ane and )li*abeth, in addition to every other sourceof happiness, were within thirty miles of each other.

8itty, to her very material advantage, spent the chief of her time withher two elder sisters. n society so superior to what she had generallyknown, her improvement was great. She was not of so ungovernable atemper as "ydia; and, removed from the influence of "ydia6s e$ample,she became, by proper attention and management, less irritable, lessignorant, and less insipid. 7rom the further disadvantage of "ydia6ssociety she was of course carefully kept, and though Mrs. 'ickhamfrequently invited her to come and stay with her, with the promise ofballs and young men, her father would never consent to her going.

Mary was the only daughter who remained at home; and she was necessarilydrawn from the pursuit of accomplishments by Mrs. Bennet6s being quiteunable to sit alone. Mary was obliged to mi$ more with the world, butshe could still morali*e over every morning visit; and as she was nolonger mortified by comparisons between her sisters6 beauty and her own,it was suspected by her father that she submitted to the change withoutmuch reluctance.

As for 'ickham and "ydia, their characters suffered no revolution fromthe marriage of her sisters. e bore with philosophy the conviction that)li*abeth must now become acquainted with whatever of his ingratitudeand falsehood had before been unknown to her; and in spite of everything, was not wholly without hope that &arcy might yet be prevailed onto make his fortune. #he congratulatory letter which )li*abeth receivedfrom "ydia on her marriage, e$plained to her that, by his wife at least,if not by himself, such a hope was cherished. #he letter was to this

effect4

M/ &)A< "/,

wish you +oy. f you love Mr. &arcy half as well as do my dear'ickham, you must be very happy. t is a great comfort to have you sorich, and when you have nothing else to do, hope you will think of us. am sure 'ickham would like a place at court very much, and do notthink we shall have quite money enough to live upon without some help.Any place would do, of about three or four hundred a year; but however,



do not speak to Mr. &arcy about it, if you had rather not.

/ours, etc.

As it happened that )li*abeth had 1much1 rather not, she endeavoured inher answer to put an end to every entreaty and e$pectation of the kind.Such relief, however, as it was in her power to afford, by the practiceof what might be called economy in her own private e$pences, shefrequently sent them. t had always been evident to her that such anincome as theirs, under the direction of two persons so e$travagant intheir wants, and heedless of the future, must be very insufficient totheir support; and whenever they changed their quarters, either 5ane orherself were sure of being applied to for some little assistancetowards discharging their bills. #heir manner of living, even when therestoration of peace dismissed them to a home, was unsettled in thee$treme. #hey were always moving from place to place in quest of a cheapsituation, and always spending more than they ought. is affection forher soon sunk into indifference; hers lasted a little longer; andin spite of her youth and her manners, she retained all the claims toreputation which her marriage had given her.

#hough &arcy could never receive 1him1 at =emberley, yet, for)li*abeth6s sake, he assisted him further in his profession. "ydia wasoccasionally a visitor there, when her husband was gone to en+oy himselfin "ondon or Bath; and with the Bingleys they both of them frequentlystaid so long, that even Bingley6s good humour was overcome, and heproceeded so far as to talk of giving them a hint to be gone.

Miss Bingley was very deeply mortified by &arcy6s marriage; but as shethought it advisable to retain the right of visiting at =emberley, shedropt all her resentment; was fonder than ever of 9eorgiana, almost asattentive to &arcy as heretofore, and paid off every arrear of civilityto )li*abeth.

=emberley was now 9eorgiana6s home; and the attachment of the sisterswas e$actly what &arcy had hoped to see. #hey were able to love eachother even as well as they intended. 9eorgiana had the highest opinionin the world of )li*abeth; though at first she often listened withan astonishment bordering on alarm at her lively, sportive, manner oftalking to her brother. e, who had always inspired in herself a respectwhich almost overcame her affection, she now saw the ob+ect of openpleasantry. er mind received knowledge which had never before fallenin her way. By )li*abeth6s instructions, she began to comprehend thata woman may take liberties with her husband which a brother will notalways allow in a sister more than ten years younger than himself.

"ady -atherine was e$tremely indignant on the marriage of her nephew;

and as she gave way to all the genuine frankness of her character inher reply to the letter which announced its arrangement, she sent himlanguage so very abusive, especially of )li*abeth, that for some timeall intercourse was at an end. But at length, by )li*abeth6s persuasion,he was prevailed on to overlook the offence, and seek a reconciliation;and, after a little further resistance on the part of his aunt, herresentment gave way, either to her affection for him, or her curiosityto see how his wife conducted herself; and she condescended to waiton them at =emberley, in spite of that pollution which its woods hadreceived, not merely from the presence of such a mistress, but the



visits of her uncle and aunt from the city.

'ith the 9ardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms.&arcy, as well as )li*abeth, really loved them; and they were both eversensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringingher into &erbyshire, had been the means of uniting them.

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An Invitation to Dinner

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