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Pride and Prejudice - Chapter 10

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

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

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

He made no answer.

"You write uncommonly fast."

"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly."

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you--but I always mend my own."

"How can you contrive to write so even?"

He was silent.

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

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

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

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

"It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter with
ease, cannot write ill."

"That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline," cried her
brother, "because he does _not_ write with ease. He studies too much for
words of four syllables. Do not you, Darcy?"

"My style of writing is very different from yours."

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

"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them--by which
means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents."

"Your humility, Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth, "must disarm reproof."

"Nothing is more deceitful," said Darcy, "than the appearance of
humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an
indirect boast."

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

"The indirect boast; for you are really proud of your defects in
writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of
thought and carelessness of execution, which, if not estimable, you
think at least highly interesting. The power of doing anything with
quickness is always prized much by the possessor, and often without any
attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Mrs.
Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved upon quitting Netherfield
you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of
panegyric, of compliment to yourself--and yet what is there so very
laudable in a precipitance which must leave very necessary business
undone, and can be of no real advantage to yourself or anyone else?"

"Nay," cried Bingley, "this is too much, to remember at night all the
foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour,
I believe what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this
moment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of needless
precipitance merely to show off before the ladies."

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

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

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

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

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

"You expect me to account for opinions which you choose to call mine,
but which I have never acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, to
stand according to your representation, you must remember, Miss Bennet,
that the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and
the delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering
one argument in favour of its propriety."

"To yield readily--easily--to the _persuasion_ of a friend is no merit
with you."

"To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of
either."

"You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of
friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often make
one readily yield to a request, without waiting for arguments to reason
one into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case as you have
supposed about Mr. Bingley. We may as well wait, perhaps, till the
circumstance occurs before we discuss the discretion of his behaviour
thereupon. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and friend,
where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no
very great moment, should you think ill of that person for complying
with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?"

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

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

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

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

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

"What you ask," said Elizabeth, "is no sacrifice on my side; and Mr.
Darcy had much better finish his letter."

Mr. Darcy took her advice, and did finish his letter.

When that business was over, he applied to Miss Bingley and Elizabeth
for an indulgence of some music. Miss Bingley moved with some alacrity
to the pianoforte; and, after a polite request that Elizabeth would lead
the way which the other as politely and more earnestly negatived, she
seated herself.

Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and while they were thus employed,
Elizabeth could not help observing, as she turned over some music-books
that lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr. Darcy's eyes were fixed
on her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of
admiration to so great a man; and yet that he should look at her
because he disliked her, was still more strange. She could only imagine,
however, at last that she drew his notice because there was something
more wrong and reprehensible, according to his ideas of right, than in
any other person present. The supposition did not pain her. She liked
him too little to care for his approbation.

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

"Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an
opportunity of dancing a reel?"

She smiled, but made no answer. He repeated the question, with some
surprise at her silence.

"Oh!" said she, "I heard you before, but I could not immediately
determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say 'Yes,'
that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always
delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of
their premeditated contempt. I have, therefore, made up my mind to tell
you, that I do not want to dance a reel at all--and now despise me if
you dare."

"Indeed I do not dare."

Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his
gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her
manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody; and Darcy
had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really
believed, that were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he
should be in some danger.

Miss Bingley saw, or suspected enough to be jealous; and her great
anxiety for the recovery of her dear friend Jane received some
assistance from her desire of getting rid of Elizabeth.

She often tried to provoke Darcy into disliking her guest, by talking of
their supposed marriage, and planning his happiness in such an alliance.

"I hope," said she, as they were walking together in the shrubbery
the next day, "you will give your mother-in-law a few hints, when this
desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue;
and if you can compass it, do cure the younger girls of running after
officers. And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavour to
check that little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence,
which your lady possesses."

"Have you anything else to propose for my domestic felicity?"

"Oh! yes. Do let the portraits of your uncle and aunt Phillips be placed
in the gallery at Pemberley. Put them next to your great-uncle the
judge. They are in the same profession, you know, only in different
lines. As for your Elizabeth's picture, you must not have it taken, for
what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?"

"It would not be easy, indeed, to catch their expression, but their
colour and shape, and the eyelashes, so remarkably fine, might be
copied."

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

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

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

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

"This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into the
avenue."

But Elizabeth, who had not the least inclination to remain with them,
laughingly answered:

"No, no; stay where you are. You are charmingly grouped, and appear
to uncommon advantage. The picturesque would be spoilt by admitting a
fourth. Good-bye."

She then ran gaily off, rejoicing as she rambled about, in the hope of
being at home again in a day or two. Jane was already so much recovered
as to intend leaving her room for a couple of hours that evening.

Pride and Prejudice - Chapter 9

Elizabeth passed the chief of the night in her sister's room, and in the

morning had the pleasure of being able to send a tolerable answer to the

inquiries which she very early received from Mr. Bingley by a housemaid,

and some time afterwards from the two elegant ladies who waited on his

sisters. In spite of this amendment, however, she requested to have a

note sent to Longbourn, desiring her mother to visit Jane, and form her

own judgement of her situation. The note was immediately dispatched, and

its contents as quickly complied with. Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by her

two youngest girls, reached Netherfield soon after the family breakfast.

Had she found Jane in any apparent danger, Mrs. Bennet would have been

very miserable; but being satisfied on seeing her that her illness was

not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately, as her

restoration to health would probably remove her from Netherfield. She

would not listen, therefore, to her daughter's proposal of being carried

home; neither did the apothecary, who arrived about the same time, think

it at all advisable. After sitting a little while with Jane, on Miss

Bingley's appearance and invitation, the mother and three daughters all

attended her into the breakfast parlour. Bingley met them with hopes

that Mrs. Bennet had not found Miss Bennet worse than she expected.

"Indeed I have, sir," was her answer. "She is a great deal too ill to be

moved. Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass

a little longer on your kindness."

"Removed!" cried Bingley. "It must not be thought of. My sister, I am

sure, will not hear of her removal."

"You may depend upon it, Madam," said Miss Bingley, with cold civility,

"that Miss Bennet will receive every possible attention while she

remains with us."

Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments.

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

know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers

a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which is

always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest

temper I have ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are

nothing to _her_. You have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and a

charming prospect over the gravel walk. I do not know a place in the

country that is equal to Netherfield. You will not think of quitting it

in a hurry, I hope, though you have but a short lease."

"Whatever I do is done in a hurry," replied he; "and therefore if I

should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five

minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here."

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

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

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

"I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen

through I am afraid is pitiful."

"That is as it happens. It does not follow that a deep, intricate

character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours."

"Lizzy," cried her mother, "remember where you are, and do not run on in

the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home."

"I did not know before," continued Bingley immediately, "that you were a

studier of character. It must be an amusing study."

"Yes, but intricate characters are the _most_ amusing. They have at

least that advantage."

"The country," said Darcy, "can in general supply but a few subjects for

such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and

unvarying society."

"But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be

observed in them for ever."

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

a country neighbourhood. "I assure you there is quite as much of _that_

going on in the country as in town."

Everybody was surprised, and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment,

turned silently away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had gained a complete

victory over him, continued her triumph.

"I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country, for

my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal

pleasanter, is it not, Mr. Bingley?"

"When I am in the country," he replied, "I never wish to leave it;

and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their

advantages, and I can be equally happy in either."

"Aye--that is because you have the right disposition. But that

gentleman," looking at Darcy, "seemed to think the country was nothing

at all."

"Indeed, Mamma, you are mistaken," said Elizabeth, blushing for her

mother. "You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there was not

such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in the town,

which you must acknowledge to be true."

"Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not meeting

with many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few

neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four-and-twenty families."

Nothing but concern for Elizabeth could enable Bingley to keep his

countenance. His sister was less delicate, and directed her eyes towards

Mr. Darcy with a very expressive smile. Elizabeth, for the sake of

saying something that might turn her mother's thoughts, now asked her if

Charlotte Lucas had been at Longbourn since _her_ coming away.

"Yes, she called yesterday with her father. What an agreeable man Sir

William is, Mr. Bingley, is not he? So much the man of fashion! So

genteel and easy! He had always something to say to everybody. _That_

is my idea of good breeding; and those persons who fancy themselves very

important, and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter."

"Did Charlotte dine with you?"

"No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince-pies. For

my part, Mr. Bingley, I always keep servants that can do their own work;

_my_ daughters are brought up very differently. But everybody is to

judge for themselves, and the Lucases are a very good sort of girls,

I assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that I think

Charlotte so _very_ plain--but then she is our particular friend."

"She seems a very pleasant young woman."

"Oh! dear, yes; but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself

has often said so, and envied me Jane's beauty. I do not like to boast

of my own child, but to be sure, Jane--one does not often see anybody

better looking. It is what everybody says. I do not trust my own

partiality. When she was only fifteen, there was a man at my brother

Gardiner's in town so much in love with her that my sister-in-law was

sure he would make her an offer before we came away. But, however, he

did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he wrote some verses

on her, and very pretty they were."

"And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently. "There has

been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first

discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!"

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

"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is

strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I

am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away."

Darcy only smiled; and the general pause which ensued made Elizabeth

tremble lest her mother should be exposing herself again. She longed to

speak, but could think of nothing to say; and after a short silence Mrs.

Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr. Bingley for his kindness to

Jane, with an apology for troubling him also with Lizzy. Mr. Bingley was

unaffectedly civil in his answer, and forced his younger sister to be

civil also, and say what the occasion required. She performed her part

indeed without much graciousness, but Mrs. Bennet was satisfied, and

soon afterwards ordered her carriage. Upon this signal, the youngest of

her daughters put herself forward. The two girls had been whispering to

each other during the whole visit, and the result of it was, that the

youngest should tax Mr. Bingley with having promised on his first coming

into the country to give a ball at Netherfield.

Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen, with a fine complexion

and good-humoured countenance; a favourite with her mother, whose

affection had brought her into public at an early age. She had high

animal spirits, and a sort of natural self-consequence, which the

attention of the officers, to whom her uncle's good dinners, and her own

easy manners recommended her, had increased into assurance. She was very

equal, therefore, to address Mr. Bingley on the subject of the ball, and

abruptly reminded him of his promise; adding, that it would be the most

shameful thing in the world if he did not keep it. His answer to this

sudden attack was delightful to their mother's ear:

"I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement; and when

your sister is recovered, you shall, if you please, name the very day of

the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing when she is ill."

Lydia declared herself satisfied. "Oh! yes--it would be much better to

wait till Jane was well, and by that time most likely Captain Carter

would be at Meryton again. And when you have given _your_ ball," she

added, "I shall insist on their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel

Forster it will be quite a shame if he does not."

Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Elizabeth returned

instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her relations' behaviour to the

remarks of the two ladies and Mr. Darcy; the latter of whom, however,

could not be prevailed on to join in their censure of _her_, in spite of

all Miss Bingley's witticisms on _fine eyes_.

Pride and Prejudice - Chapter 8

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

Their brother, indeed, was the only one of the party whom she could
regard with any complacency. His anxiety for Jane was evident, and his
attentions to herself most pleasing, and they prevented her feeling
herself so much an intruder as she believed she was considered by the
others. She had very little notice from any but him. Miss Bingley was
engrossed by Mr. Darcy, her sister scarcely less so; and as for Mr.
Hurst, by whom Elizabeth sat, he was an indolent man, who lived only to
eat, drink, and play at cards; who, when he found her to prefer a plain
dish to a ragout, had nothing to say to her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Certainly not."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisters gave it their
hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of
their dear friend's vulgar relations.

With a renewal of tenderness, however, they returned to her room on
leaving the dining-parlour, and sat with her till summoned to coffee.
She was still very poorly, and Elizabeth would not quit her at all, till
late in the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her sleep, and
when it seemed to her rather right than pleasant that she should go
downstairs herself. On entering the drawing-room she found the whole
party at loo, and was immediately invited to join them; but suspecting
them to be playing high she declined it, and making her sister the
excuse, said she would amuse herself for the short time she could stay
below, with a book. Mr. Hurst looked at her with astonishment.

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

"Miss Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, "despises cards. She is a great
reader, and has no pleasure in anything else."

"I deserve neither such praise nor such censure," cried Elizabeth; "I am
_not_ a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things."

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

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

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

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

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

"It ought to be good," he replied, "it has been the work of many
generations."

"And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying
books."

"I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as
these."

"Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of
that noble place. Charles, when you build _your_ house, I wish it may be
half as delightful as Pemberley."

"I wish it may."

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

"With all my heart; I will buy Pemberley itself if Darcy will sell it."

"I am talking of possibilities, Charles."

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

Elizabeth was so much caught with what passed, as to leave her very
little attention for her book; and soon laying it wholly aside, she drew
near the card-table, and stationed herself between Mr. Bingley and his
eldest sister, to observe the game.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh! certainly," cried his faithful assistant, "no one can be really
esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met
with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing,
dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides
all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of
walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word
will be but half-deserved."

"All this she must possess," added Darcy, "and to all this she must
yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by
extensive reading."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pride and Prejudice - Chapter 7

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

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

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

Their visits to Mrs. Phillips were now productive of the most
interesting intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge
of the officers' names and connections. Their lodgings were not long a
secret, and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Mr.
Phillips visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a store of
felicity unknown before. They could talk of nothing but officers; and
Mr. Bingley's large fortune, the mention of which gave animation
to their mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the
regimentals of an ensign.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"MY DEAR FRIEND,--

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

"CAROLINE BINGLEY"

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

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

"Can I have the carriage?" said Jane.

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

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

"Oh! but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley's chaise to go to Meryton,
and the Hursts have no horses to theirs."

"I had much rather go in the coach."

"But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, I am sure. They are
wanted in the farm, Mr. Bennet, are they not?"

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

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

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

"This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!" said Mrs. Bennet more than
once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own. Till the
next morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her
contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from Netherfield
brought the following note for Elizabeth:

"MY DEAREST LIZZY,--

"I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be
imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will not
hear of my returning till I am better. They insist also on my seeing Mr.
Jones--therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having been
to me--and, excepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much the
matter with me.--Yours, etc."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pride and Prejudice - Chapter 6

The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. The visit

was soon returned in due form. Miss Bennet's pleasing manners grew on

the goodwill of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and though the mother was

found to be intolerable, and the younger sisters not worth speaking to,

a wish of being better acquainted with _them_ was expressed towards

the two eldest. By Jane, this attention was received with the greatest

pleasure, but Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in their treatment

of everybody, hardly excepting even her sister, and could not like them;

though their kindness to Jane, such as it was, had a value as arising in

all probability from the influence of their brother's admiration. It

was generally evident whenever they met, that he _did_ admire her and

to _her_ it was equally evident that Jane was yielding to the preference

which she had begun to entertain for him from the first, and was in a

way to be very much in love; but she considered with pleasure that it

was not likely to be discovered by the world in general, since Jane

united, with great strength of feeling, a composure of temper and a

uniform cheerfulness of manner which would guard her from the suspicions

of the impertinent. She mentioned this to her friend Miss Lucas.

"It may perhaps be pleasant," replied Charlotte, "to be able to impose

on the public in such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be

so very guarded. If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill

from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and

it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in

the dark. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every

attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all

_begin_ freely--a slight preference is natural enough; but there are

very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without

encouragement. In nine cases out of ten a women had better show _more_

affection than she feels. Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly; but he

may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on."

"But she does help him on, as much as her nature will allow. If I can

perceive her regard for him, he must be a simpleton, indeed, not to

discover it too."

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

"But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavour to conceal

it, he must find it out."

"Perhaps he must, if he sees enough of her. But, though Bingley and Jane

meet tolerably often, it is never for many hours together; and, as they

always see each other in large mixed parties, it is impossible that

every moment should be employed in conversing together. Jane should

therefore make the most of every half-hour in which she can command his

attention. When she is secure of him, there will be more leisure for

falling in love as much as she chooses."

"Your plan is a good one," replied Elizabeth, "where nothing is in

question but the desire of being well married, and if I were determined

to get a rich husband, or any husband, I dare say I should adopt it. But

these are not Jane's feelings; she is not acting by design. As yet,

she cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard nor of its

reasonableness. She has known him only a fortnight. She danced four

dances with him at Meryton; she saw him one morning at his own house,

and has since dined with him in company four times. This is not quite

enough to make her understand his character."

"Not as you represent it. Had she merely _dined_ with him, she might

only have discovered whether he had a good appetite; but you must

remember that four evenings have also been spent together--and four

evenings may do a great deal."

"Yes; these four evenings have enabled them to ascertain that they

both like Vingt-un better than Commerce; but with respect to any other

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

"Well," said Charlotte, "I wish Jane success with all my heart; and

if she were married to him to-morrow, I should think she had as good a

chance of happiness as if she were to be studying his character for a

twelvemonth. Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If

the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other or

ever so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the

least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to

have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as

possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your

life."

"You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound. You know it is not

sound, and that you would never act in this way yourself."

Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions to her sister, Elizabeth

was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some

interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely

allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her without admiration at the

ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no

sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she hardly

had a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered

uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To

this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had

detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry

in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and

pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those

of the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness. Of

this she was perfectly unaware; to her he was only the man who made

himself agreeable nowhere, and who had not thought her handsome enough

to dance with.

He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards conversing

with her himself, attended to her conversation with others. His doing so

drew her notice. It was at Sir William Lucas's, where a large party were

assembled.

"What does Mr. Darcy mean," said she to Charlotte, "by listening to my

conversation with Colonel Forster?"

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

"But if he does it any more I shall certainly let him know that I see

what he is about. He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by

being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of him."

On his approaching them soon afterwards, though without seeming to have

any intention of speaking, Miss Lucas defied her friend to mention such

a subject to him; which immediately provoking Elizabeth to do it, she

turned to him and said:

"Did you not think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly

well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at

Meryton?"

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

energetic."

"You are severe on us."

"It will be _her_ turn soon to be teased," said Miss Lucas. "I am going

to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows."

"You are a very strange creature by way of a friend!--always wanting me

to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had taken

a musical turn, you would have been invaluable; but as it is, I would

really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of

hearing the very best performers." On Miss Lucas's persevering, however,

she added, "Very well, if it must be so, it must." And gravely glancing

at Mr. Darcy, "There is a fine old saying, which everybody here is of

course familiar with: 'Keep your breath to cool your porridge'; and I

shall keep mine to swell my song."

Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital. After a song

or two, and before she could reply to the entreaties of several that

she would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded at the instrument by her

sister Mary, who having, in consequence of being the only plain one in

the family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was always

impatient for display.

Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her

application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited

manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she

had reached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected, had been listened to with

much more pleasure, though not playing half so well; and Mary, at the

end of a long concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude by

Scotch and Irish airs, at the request of her younger sisters, who,

with some of the Lucases, and two or three officers, joined eagerly in

dancing at one end of the room.

Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at such a mode of

passing the evening, to the exclusion of all conversation, and was too

much engrossed by his thoughts to perceive that Sir William Lucas was

his neighbour, till Sir William thus began:

"What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There

is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first

refinements of polished society."

"Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst

the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance."

Sir William only smiled. "Your friend performs delightfully," he

continued after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group; "and I doubt

not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy."

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

"Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. Do

you often dance at St. James's?"

"Never, sir."

"Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?"

"It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it."

"You have a house in town, I conclude?"

Mr. Darcy bowed.

"I had once had some thought of fixing in town myself--for I am fond

of superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that the air of

London would agree with Lady Lucas."

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

to make any; and Elizabeth at that instant moving towards them, he was

struck with the action of doing a very gallant thing, and called out to

her:

"My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow

me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You

cannot refuse to dance, I am sure when so much beauty is before you."

And, taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy who, though

extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantly

drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William:

"Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you

not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner."

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

her hand, but in vain. Elizabeth was determined; nor did Sir William at

all shake her purpose by his attempt at persuasion.

"You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny

me the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the

amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us

for one half-hour."

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

"He is, indeed; but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza,

we cannot wonder at his complaisance--for who would object to such a

partner?"

Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away. Her resistance had not

injured her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her with some

complacency, when thus accosted by Miss Bingley:

"I can guess the subject of your reverie."

"I should imagine not."

"You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings

in this manner--in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion.

I was never more annoyed! The insipidity, and yet the noise--the

nothingness, and yet the self-importance of all those people! What would

I give to hear your strictures on them!"

"Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more

agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure

which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow."

Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he

would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections.

Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepidity:

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet!" repeated Miss Bingley. "I am all astonishment.

How long has she been such a favourite?--and pray, when am I to wish you

joy?"

"That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady's

imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love

to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy."

"Nay, if you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter is

absolutely settled. You will be having a charming mother-in-law, indeed;

and, of course, she will always be at Pemberley with you."

He listened to her with perfect indifference while she chose to

entertain herself in this manner; and as his composure convinced her

that all was safe, her wit flowed long.

Pride and Prejudice - Chapter 5

Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the Bennets

were particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas had been formerly in trade

in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune, and risen to the

honour of knighthood by an address to the king during his mayoralty.

The distinction had perhaps been felt too strongly. It had given him a

disgust to his business, and to his residence in a small market town;

and, in quitting them both, he had removed with his family to a house

about a mile from Meryton, denominated from that period Lucas Lodge,

where he could think with pleasure of his own importance, and,

unshackled by business, occupy himself solely in being civil to all

the world. For, though elated by his rank, it did not render him

supercilious; on the contrary, he was all attention to everybody. By

nature inoffensive, friendly, and obliging, his presentation at St.

James's had made him courteous.

Lady Lucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a

valuable neighbour to Mrs. Bennet. They had several children. The eldest

of them, a sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty-seven, was

Elizabeth's intimate friend.

That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over

a ball was absolutely necessary; and the morning after the assembly

brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate.

"_You_ began the evening well, Charlotte," said Mrs. Bennet with civil

self-command to Miss Lucas. "_You_ were Mr. Bingley's first choice."

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

"Oh! you mean Jane, I suppose, because he danced with her twice. To be

sure that _did_ seem as if he admired her--indeed I rather believe he

_did_--I heard something about it--but I hardly know what--something

about Mr. Robinson."

"Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr. Robinson; did not

I mention it to you? Mr. Robinson's asking him how he liked our Meryton

assemblies, and whether he did not think there were a great many

pretty women in the room, and _which_ he thought the prettiest? and his

answering immediately to the last question: 'Oh! the eldest Miss Bennet,

beyond a doubt; there cannot be two opinions on that point.'"

"Upon my word! Well, that is very decided indeed--that does seem as

if--but, however, it may all come to nothing, you know."

"_My_ overhearings were more to the purpose than _yours_, Eliza," said

Charlotte. "Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening to as his friend,

is he?--poor Eliza!--to be only just _tolerable_."

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

ill-treatment, for he is such a disagreeable man, that it would be quite

a misfortune to be liked by him. Mrs. Long told me last night that he

sat close to her for half-an-hour without once opening his lips."

"Are you quite sure, ma'am?--is not there a little mistake?" said Jane.

"I certainly saw Mr. Darcy speaking to her."

"Aye--because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and he

could not help answering her; but she said he seemed quite angry at

being spoke to."

"Miss Bingley told me," said Jane, "that he never speaks much,

unless among his intimate acquaintances. With _them_ he is remarkably

agreeable."

"I do not believe a word of it, my dear. If he had been so very

agreeable, he would have talked to Mrs. Long. But I can guess how it

was; everybody says that he is eat up with pride, and I dare say he had

heard somehow that Mrs. Long does not keep a carriage, and had come to

the ball in a hack chaise."

"I do not mind his not talking to Mrs. Long," said Miss Lucas, "but I

wish he had danced with Eliza."

"Another time, Lizzy," said her mother, "I would not dance with _him_,

if I were you."

"I believe, ma'am, I may safely promise you _never_ to dance with him."

"His pride," said Miss Lucas, "does not offend _me_ so much as pride

often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so

very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favour,

should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a _right_

to be proud."

"That is very true," replied Elizabeth, "and I could easily forgive

_his_ pride, if he had not mortified _mine_."

"Pride," observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her

reflections, "is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have

ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed; that human

nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us

who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some

quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different

things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may

be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of

ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us."

"If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy," cried a young Lucas, who came with

his sisters, "I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of

foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine a day."

"Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought," said Mrs.

Bennet; "and if I were to see you at it, I should take away your bottle

directly."

The boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that she

would, and the argument ended only with the visit.