spirits; and, having told all her griefs to Charlotte Lucas, whom she

had not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary

transition to the oddities of her cousin, and to point him out to her

particular notice. The two first dances, however, brought a return of

distress: they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and

solemn,{115} apologizing instead of attending, and often moving wrong

without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a

disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her

release from him was ecstasy.
She danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment of talking of

Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked. When those dances

were over, she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation with

her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy, who took

her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that, without

knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again

immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence of

mind: Charlotte tried to console her.
“I dare say you will find him very agreeable.”
“Heaven forbid! That would be the greatest misfortune of all! To find

a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an

evil.”
When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim her

hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her, in a whisper, not to be a

simpleton, and allow her fancy for Wickham to make her appear unpleasant

in the eyes of a man often times his consequence. Elizabeth made no

answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which

she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and

reading in her neighbours’ looks their equal amazement in beholding it.

They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to

imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and, at