She rated his abilities much higher than any of the others: there was a

solidity in his reflections which often struck her; and though by no

means so clever as herself, she thought that, if encouraged to read and

improve himself by such an example as hers, he might become a very

agreeable companion. But on the following morning every hope of this

kind was done away. Miss Lucas called soon after breakfast, and in a

private conference with Elizabeth related the event of the day before.
The possibility of Mr. Collins’s fancying himself in love with her

friend had once occurred to Elizabeth within the last day or two: but

that Charlotte could encourage him seemed almost as far from possibility

as that she could encourage him herself; and her astonishment was

consequently so great as to overcome at first the bounds of decorum, and

she could not help crying out,—
“Engaged to Mr. Collins! my dear Charlotte, impossible!”
The steady countenance which Miss Lucas had commanded in telling her

story gave way to a momentary confusion here on receiving so direct a

reproach; though, as it was no more than she expected, she soon regained

her composure, and calmly replied,—
“Why should you be surprised, my dear Eliza? Do you think it incredible

that Mr. Collins should be able to procure any woman’s good opinion,

because he was not so happy as to succeed with you?{160}”
But Elizabeth had now recollected herself; and, making a strong effort

for it, was able to assure her, with tolerable firmness, that the

prospect of their relationship was highly grateful to her, and that she

wished her all imaginable happiness.
“I see what you are feeling,” replied Charlotte; “you must be surprised,

very much surprised, so lately as Mr. Collins was wishing to marry you.

But when you have had time to think it all over, I hope you will be

satisfied with what I have done. I am not romantic, you know. I never

was. I ask only a comfortable home; and, considering Mr. Collins’s