his acquaintance with me, which I cannot wonder at, since he might have

chosen so much more advantageously in many respects. But when they see,

as I trust they will, that their brother is happy with me, they will

learn to be contented, and we shall be on good terms again: though we

can never be what we once were to each other.”
“That is the most unforgiving speech,” said Elizabeth, “that I ever

heard you utter. Good girl! It would vex me, indeed, to see you again

the dupe of Miss Bingley’s pretended regard.”
“Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he went to town last November he

really loved me, and nothing but a persuasion of my being indifferent

would have prevented his coming down again?{430}”
“He made a little mistake, to be sure; but it is to the credit of his

modesty.”
This naturally introduced a panegyric from Jane on his diffidence, and

the little value he put on his own good qualities.
Elizabeth was pleased to find that he had not betrayed the interference

of his friend; for, though Jane had the most generous and forgiving

heart in the world, she knew it was a circumstance which must prejudice

her against him.
“I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!” cried

Jane. “Oh, Lizzy, why am I thus singled from my family, and blessed

above them all? If I could but see you as happy! If there were but such

another man for you!”
“If you were to give me forty such men I never could be so happy as you.

Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your

happiness. No, no, let me shift for myself; and, perhaps, if I have very

good luck, I may meet with another Mr. Collins in time.”
The situation of affairs in the Longbourn family could not be long a

secret. Mrs. Bennet was privileged to whisper it to Mrs. Philips, and

she ventured, without any permission, to do the same by all her

neighbours in Meryton.
The Bennets were speedily pronounced to be the luckiest family in the