Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit.”
Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat disconcerted; and

Elizabeth, sorry for her, and sorry for her father’s speech, was afraid

her anxiety had done no good. Others of the party were now applied to.
“If I,” said Mr. Collins, “were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I

should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with an

air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion, and perfectly

compatible with the profession of a clergyman. I do not mean, however,

to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time to

music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. The

rector of a parish has much to do. In the first place, he must make such

an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial to himself and not

offensive to his patron. He must write his own sermons; and the time

that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care

and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making

as comfortable as possible. And I do not think it of light importance

that he should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards

everybody, especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I

cannot acquit him of that duty; nor could I think well{129} of the man who

should omit an occasion of testifying his respect towards anybody

connected with the family.” And with a bow to Mr. Darcy, he concluded

his speech, which had been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the

room. Many stared—many smiled; but no one looked more amused than Mr.

Bennet himself, while his wife seriously commended Mr. Collins for

having spoken so sensibly, and observed, in a half-whisper to Lady

Lucas, that he was a remarkably clever, good kind of young man.
To Elizabeth it appeared, that had her family made an agreement to

expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would