It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now.
“You are too hasty, sir,” she cried. “You forget that{136} I have made no

answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for

the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honour of

your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than decline

them.”
“I am not now to learn,” replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the

hand, “that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the

man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their

favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a

third time. I am, therefore, by no means discouraged by what you have

just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.”
“Upon my word, sir,” cried Elizabeth, “your hope is rather an

extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not

one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so

daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second

time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal. You could not make me

happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who

would make you so. Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I

am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the

situation.”
“Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so,” said Mr. Collins,

very gravely—“but I cannot imagine that her Ladyship would at all

disapprove of you. And you may be certain that when I have the honour of

seeing her again I shall speak in the highest terms of your modesty,

economy, and other amiable qualifications.”
“Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must

give me leave to judge for myself, and{137} pay me the compliment of

believing what I say. I wish you very happy and very rich, and by

refusing your hand, do all in my power to prevent your being otherwise.