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{35} 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 these

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.