of her attachment to Mr. Darcy.
“Or, in other words, you are determined to have him. He is rich, to be

sure, and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than Jane.

But will they make you happy?”
“Have you any other objection,” said Elizabeth, “than your belief of my

indifference?”
“None at all. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; but

this would be nothing if you really liked him.”
“I do, I do like him,” she replied, with tears in her eyes; “I love him.

Indeed he has no improper pride. He is perfectly amiable. You do not

know what he really is; then pray do not pain me by speaking of him in

such terms.”
“Lizzy,” said her father, “I have given him my consent. He is the kind

of man, indeed, to whom I{463} should never dare refuse anything, which he

condescended to ask. I now give it to you, if you are resolved on

having him. But let me advise you to think better of it. I know your

disposition, Lizzy. I know that you could be neither happy nor

respectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband, unless you looked

up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the

greatest danger in an unequal marriage. You could scarcely escape

discredit and misery. My child, let me not have the grief of seeing

you unable to respect your partner in life. You know not what you are

about.”
Elizabeth, still more affected, was earnest and solemn in her reply;

and, at length, by repeated assurances that Mr. Darcy was really the

object of her choice, by explaining the gradual change which her

estimation of him had undergone, relating her absolute certainty that

his affection was not the work of a day, but had stood the test of many

months’ suspense, and enumerating with energy all his good qualities,

she did conquer her father’s incredulity, and reconcile him to the

match.
“Well, my dear,” said he, when she ceased speaking, “I have no more to