is my favourite; but I think I shall like your husband quite as well

as Jane’s.{466}”

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“The obsequious civility.”


CHAPTER LX.

ELIZABETH’S spirits soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr.

Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. “How could

you begin?” said she. “I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when

you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first

place?{467}”
“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which

laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I

knew that I had begun.”
“My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners—my behaviour

to you was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke

to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now, be

sincere; did you admire me for my impertinence?”
“For the liveliness of your mind I did.”
“You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less.

The fact is, that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious

attention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speaking,

and looking, and thinking for your approbation alone. I roused and

interested you, because I was so unlike them. Had you not been really

amiable you would have hated me for it: but in spite of the pains you

took to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just; and

in your heart you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously

courted you. There—I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it;

and really, all things considered, I begin to think it perfectly

reasonable. To be sure you know no actual good of me—but nobody thinks

of that when they fall in love.”
“Was there no good in your affectionate behaviour to Jane, while she was

ill at Netherfield?”
“Dearest Jane! who could have done less for her? But make a virtue of it

by all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you are