between distress and diversion. Mrs. Bennet and Kitty walked off, and as

soon as they were gone, Mr. Collins began,—
“Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so far from

doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You

would have been less amiable in my eyes had there not been this little

unwillingness; but allow me to assure you that I have your respected

mother’s permission for this address.{134} You can hardly doubt the purport

of my discourse, however your natural delicacy may lead you to

dissemble; my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as

soon as I entered the house I singled you out as the companion of my

future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this

subject, perhaps it will be advisable for me to state my reasons for

marrying—and, moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design

of selecting a wife, as I certainly did.”
The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away

with by his feelings, made Elizabeth so near laughing that she could not

use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop him farther, and

he continued,—
“My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for

every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example

of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am convinced it will add

very greatly to my happiness; and, thirdly, which perhaps I ought to

have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and

recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling

patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion (unasked

too!) on this subject; and it was but the very Saturday night before I

left Hunsford,—between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was

arranging Miss De Bourgh’s footstool,—that she said, ‘Mr. Collins, you

must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, choose a