London, and there relate her journey to Longbourn, its motive, and the

substance of her conversation with Elizabeth; dwelling emphatically on

every expression of the latter, which, in her Ladyship’s apprehension,

peculiarly denoted her perverseness and assurance, in the belief that

such a relation must assist her endeavours to obtain that promise from

her nephew which she had refused to give. But, unluckily for her

Ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise.
“It taught me to hope,” said he, “as I had scarcely ever allowed myself

to hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain, that

had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have

acknowledged it to Lady Catherine frankly and openly.”
Elizabeth coloured and laughed as she replied, “Yes, you know enough of

my frankness to believe me capable of that. After abusing you so

abominably to your face, I could have no scruple in abusing you to all

your relations.”
“What did you say of me that I did not deserve? For though your

accusations were ill-founded, formed on mistaken premises, my behaviour

to you at the time had merited the severest reproof. It was

unpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence.”
“We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that

evening,” said Elizabeth. “The conduct{452} of neither, if strictly

examined, will be irreproachable; but since then we have both, I hope,

improved in civility.”
“I cannot be so easily reconciled to myself. The recollection of what I

then said, of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of

it, is now, and has been many months, inexpressibly painful to me. Your

reproof, so well applied, I shall never forget: ‘Had you behaved in a

more gentlemanlike manner.’ Those were your words. You know not, you can

scarcely conceive, how they have tortured me; though it was some time, I

confess, before I was reasonable enough to allow their justice.”