credit; but I am an idle fellow; and though I have not many, I have more

than I ever looked into.”
Elizabeth assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with those

in the room.
“I am astonished,” said Miss Bingley, “that my father should have left

so small a collection of books. What a delightful library you have at

Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!”
“It ought to be good,” he replied: “it has been the work of many

generations.”
“And then you have added so much to it yourself—you are always buying

books.”
“I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as

these.”
“Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of

that noble place. Charles, when you build your house, I wish it may be

half as delightful as Pemberley.”
“I wish it may.”
“But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that

neighbourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a

finer county in England than Derbyshire.{50}”
“With all my heart: I will buy Pemberley itself, if Darcy will sell it.”
“I am talking of possibilities, Charles.”
“Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get

Pemberley by purchase than by imitation.”
Elizabeth was so much caught by what passed, as to leave her very little

attention for her book; and, soon laying it wholly aside, she drew near

the card-table, and stationed herself between Mr. Bingley and his eldest

sister, to observe the game.
“Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?” said Miss Bingley: “will

she be as tall as I am?”
“I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s height, or

rather taller.”
“How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me

so much. Such a countenance, such manners, and so extremely accomplished

for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite.”
“It is amazing to me,” said Bingley, “how young ladies can have patience

to be so very accomplished as they all are.”