“Good heaven! can it be really so? Yet now I must believe you,” cried

Jane. “My dear, dear Lizzy, I would, I do congratulate you; but are you

certain—forgive the question—are you quite certain that you can be

happy with him?”
“There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already that we

are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased, Jane?

Shall you like to have such a brother?”
“Very, very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more

delight. But we considered it, we talked of it as impossible. And do you

really love him quite well enough? Oh, Lizzy! do anything rather than

marry without affection. Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought

to do?”
“Oh, yes! You will only think I feel more than I ought to do when I

tell you all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why, I must confess that I love him better than I do Bingley. I am

afraid you will be angry.”
“My dearest sister, now be, be serious. I want to talk very seriously.

Let me know everything that I am to know without delay. Will you tell me

how long you have loved him?”
“It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began;

but I believe I must date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds

at Pemberley.”
Another entreaty that she would be serious, however, produced the

desired effect; and she soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances of

attachment. When convinced on that article, Miss Bennet had nothing

further to wish.{460}
“Now I am quite happy,” said she, “for you will be as happy as myself. I

always had a value for him. Were it for nothing but his love of you, I

must always have esteemed him; but now, as Bingley’s friend and your

husband, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. But,

Lizzy, you have been very sly, very reserved with me. How little did you

tell me of what passed at Pemberley and Lambton! I owe all that I know

of it to another, not to you.”