prompt:
Chapter: Miss Bingley's letter arrived, and put an end to doubt. The very first
sentence conveyed the assurance of their being all settled in London for
the winter, and concluded with her brother's regret at not having had
time to pay his respects to his friends in Hertfordshire before he left
the country.

Hope was over, entirely over; and when Jane could attend to the rest of
the letter, she found little, except the professed affection of the
writer, that could give her any comfort. Miss Darcy's praise occupied
the chief of it. Her many attractions were again dwelt on, and Caroline
boasted joyfully of their increasing intimacy, and ventured to predict
the accomplishment of the wishes which had been unfolded in her former
letter. She wrote also with great pleasure of her brother's being an
inmate of Mr. Darcy's house, and mentioned with raptures, some plans of
the latter with regard to new furniture.

Elizabeth, to whom Jane very soon communicated the chief of all this,
heard it in silent indignation. Her heart was divided between concern
for her sister, and resentment against all the others. To Caroline's
assertion of her brother's being partial to Miss Darcy she paid no
credit. That he was really fond of Jane, she doubted no more than she
had ever done; and much as she had always been disposed to like him, she
could not think without anger, hardly without contempt, on that easiness
of temper, that want of proper resolution which now made him the slave
of his designing friends, and led him to sacrifice his own happiness to
the caprice of their inclinations. Had his own happiness, however, been
the only sacrifice, he might have been allowed to sport with it in what
ever manner he thought best; but her sister's was involved in it, as she
thought he must be sensible himself. It was a subject, in short, on
which reflection would be long indulged, and must be unavailing. She
could think of nothing else, and yet whether Bingley's regard had really
died away, or were suppressed by his friends' interference; whether he
had been aware of Jane's attachment, or whether it had escaped his
observation; whichever were the case, though her opinion of him must be
materially affected by the difference, her sister's situation remained
the same, her peace equally wounded.

A day or two passed before Jane had courage to speak of her feelings to
Elizabeth; but at last on Mrs. Bennet's leaving them together, after a
longer irritation than usual about Netherfield and its master, she could
not help saying,

"Oh! that my dear mother had more command over herself; she can have no
idea of the pain she gives me by her continual reflections on him. But I
will not repine. It cannot last long. He will be forgot, and we shall
all be as we were before."

Elizabeth looked at her sister with incredulous solicitude, but said
nothing.

"You doubt me," cried Jane, slightly colouring; "indeed you have no
reason. He may live in my memory as the most amiable man of my
acquaintance, but that is all. I have nothing either to hope or fear,
and nothing to reproach him with. Thank God! I have not _that_ pain. A
little time therefore.--I shall certainly try to get the better."

With a stronger voice she soon added, "I have this comfort immediately,
that it has not been more than an error of fancy on my side, and that it
has done no harm to any one but myself."

"My dear Jane!" exclaimed Elizabeth, "you are too good. Your sweetness
and disinterestedness are really angelic; I do not know what to say to
you. I feel as if I had never done you justice, or loved you as you
deserve."

Miss Bennet eagerly disclaimed all extraordinary merit, and threw back
the praise on her sister's warm affection.

"Nay," said Elizabeth, "this is not fair. _You_ wish to think all the
world respectable, and are hurt if I speak ill of any body. _I_ only
want to think _you_ perfect, and you set yourself against it. Do not be
afraid of my running into any excess, of my encroaching on your
privilege of universal good will. You need not. There are few people
whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see
of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms
my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the
little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of either merit
or sense. I have met with two instances lately; one I will not mention;
the other is Charlotte's marriage. It is unaccountable! in every view it
is unaccountable!"

"My dear Lizzy, do not give way to such feelings as these. They will
ruin your happiness. You do not make allowance enough for difference of
situation and temper. Consider Mr. Collins's respectability, and
Charlotte's prudent, steady character. Remember that she is one of a
large family; that as to fortune, it is a most eligible match; and be
ready to believe, for every body's sake, that she may feel something
like regard and esteem for our cousin."

"To oblige you, I would try to believe almost any thing, but no one else
could be benefited by such a belief as this; for were I persuaded that
Charlotte had any regard for him, I should only think worse of her
understanding, than I now do of her heart. My dear Jane, Mr. Collins is
a conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man; you know he is, as well
as I do; and you must feel, as well as I do, that the woman who marries
him, cannot have a proper way of thinking. You shall not defend her,
though it is Charlotte Lucas. You shall not, for the sake of one
individual, change the meaning of principle and integrity, nor
endeavour to persuade yourself or me, that selfishness is prudence, and
insensibility of danger, security for happiness."

"I must think your language too strong in speaking of both," replied
Jane, "and I hope you will be convinced of it, by seeing them happy
together. But enough of this. You alluded to something else. You
mentioned _two_ instances. I cannot misunderstand you, but I intreat
you, dear Lizzy, not to pain me by thinking _that person_ to blame, and
saying your opinion of him is sunk. We must not be so ready to fancy
ourselves intentionally injured. We must not expect a lively young man
to be always so guarded and circumspect. It is very often nothing but
our own vanity that deceives us. Women fancy admiration means more than
it does."

"And men take care that they should."

"If it is designedly done, they cannot be justified; but I have no idea
of there being so much design in the world as some persons imagine."

"I am far from attributing any part of Mr. Bingley's conduct to design,"
said Elizabeth; "but without scheming to do wrong, or to make others
unhappy, there may be error, and there may be misery. Thoughtlessness,
want of attention to other people's feelings, and want of resolution,
will do the business."

"And do you impute it to either of those?"

"Yes; to the last. But if I go on, I shall displease you by saying what
I think of persons you esteem. Stop me whilst you can."

"You persist, then, in supposing his sisters influence him."

"Yes, in conjunction with his friend."

"I cannot believe it. Why should they try to influence him? They can
only wish his happiness, and if he is attached to me, no other woman can
secure it."

"Your first position is false. They may wish many things besides his
happiness; they may wish his increase of wealth and consequence; they
may wish him to marry a girl who has all the importance of money, great
connections, and pride."

"Beyond a doubt, they _do_ wish him to chuse Miss Darcy," replied Jane;
"but this may be from better feelings than you are supposing. They have
known her much longer than they have known me; no wonder if they love
her better. But, whatever may be their own wishes, it is very unlikely
they should have opposed their brother's. What sister would think
herself at liberty to do it, unless there were something very
objectionable? If they believed him attached to me, they would not try
to part us; if he were so, they could not succeed. By supposing such an
affection, you make every body acting unnaturally and wrong, and me most
unhappy. Do not distress me by the idea. I am not ashamed of having been
mistaken--or, at least, it is slight, it is nothing in comparison of
what I should feel in thinking ill of him or his sisters. Let me take it
in the best light, in the light in which it may be understood."

Elizabeth could not oppose such a wish; and from this time Mr. Bingley's
name was scarcely ever mentioned between them.

Mrs. Bennet still continued to wonder and repine at his returning no
more, and though a day seldom passed in which Elizabeth did not account
for it clearly, there seemed little chance of her ever considering it
with less perplexity. Her daughter endeavoured to convince her of what
she did not believe herself, that his attentions to Jane had been merely
the effect of a common and transient liking, which ceased when he saw
her no more; but though the probability of the statement was admitted at
the time, she had the same story to repeat every day. Mrs. Bennet's best
comfort was, that Mr. Bingley must be down again in the summer.

Mr. Bennet treated the matter differently. "So, Lizzy," said he one day,
"your sister is crossed in love I find. I congratulate her. Next to
being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then.
It is something to think of, and gives her a sort of distinction among
her companions. When is your turn to come? You will hardly bear to be
long outdone by Jane. Now is your time. Here are officers enough at
Meryton to disappoint all the young ladies in the country. Let Wickham
be _your_ man. He is a pleasant fellow, and would jilt you creditably."

"Thank you, Sir, but a less agreeable man would satisfy me. We must not
all expect Jane's good fortune."

"True," said Mr. Bennet, "but it is a comfort to think that, whatever of
that kind may befal you, you have an affectionate mother who will always
make the most of it."

Mr. Wickham's society was of material service in dispelling the gloom,
which the late perverse occurrences had thrown on many of the Longbourn
family. They saw him often, and to his other recommendations was now
added that of general unreserve. The whole of what Elizabeth had already
heard, his claims on Mr. Darcy, and all that he had suffered from him,
was now openly acknowledged and publicly canvassed; and every body was
pleased to think how much they had always disliked Mr. Darcy before they
had known any thing of the matter.

Miss Bennet was the only creature who could suppose there might be any
extenuating circumstances in the case, unknown to the society of
Hertfordshire; her mild and steady candour always pleaded for
allowances, and urged the possibility of mistakes--but by everybody else
Mr. Darcy was condemned as the worst of men.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Miss Bingleys reply to Janes letter arrives and indicates that they are all settled in London for the winter. Most of the letter cruelly speaks of Miss Darcy and her many attractions. Caroline also boasts about the growing intimacy between her and her brother Bingley, who is residing with Darcy. Elizabeth still feels that Bingley is being influenced by his sisters, who want to destroy his admiration for Jane. She criticizes Bingley for being so easily swayed and manipulated, but Jane will not listen to any criticism of Bingley, Caroline, or Mrs. Hurst. After the arrival of Carolines letter, the mood at Longbourn is somber. Mr. Wickhams frequent visits seem to alleviate some of the gloom. The entire Bennet family is told about Darcys alleged treatment of Wickham, and everyone accepts his account as factual. Even Jane condemns Darcy; but she still believes there may be extenuating circumstances that are unknown to them.


prompt:
Chapter: After a week spent in professions of love and schemes of felicity, Mr.
Collins was called from his amiable Charlotte by the arrival of
Saturday. The pain of separation, however, might be alleviated on his
side, by preparations for the reception of his bride, as he had reason
to hope, that shortly after his next return into Hertfordshire, the day
would be fixed that was to make him the happiest of men. He took leave
of his relations at Longbourn with as much solemnity as before; wished
his fair cousins health and happiness again, and promised their father
another letter of thanks.

On the following Monday, Mrs. Bennet had the pleasure of receiving her
brother and his wife, who came as usual to spend the Christmas at
Longbourn. Mr. Gardiner was a sensible, gentleman-like man, greatly
superior to his sister, as well by nature as education. The Netherfield
ladies would have had difficulty in believing that a man who lived by
trade, and within view of his own warehouses, could have been so well
bred and agreeable. Mrs. Gardiner, who was several years younger than
Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips, was an amiable, intelligent, elegant
woman, and a great favourite with all her Longbourn nieces. Between the
two eldest and herself especially, there subsisted a very particular
regard. They had frequently been staying with her in town.

The first part of Mrs. Gardiner's business on her arrival, was to
distribute her presents and describe the newest fashions. When this was
done, she had a less active part to play. It became her turn to listen.
Mrs. Bennet had many grievances to relate, and much to complain of. They
had all been very ill-used since she last saw her sister. Two of her
girls had been on the point of marriage, and after all there was nothing
in it.

"I do not blame Jane," she continued, "for Jane would have got Mr.
Bingley, if she could. But, Lizzy! Oh, sister! it is very hard to think
that she might have been Mr. Collins's wife by this time, had not it
been for her own perverseness. He made her an offer in this very room,
and she refused him. The consequence of it is, that Lady Lucas will have
a daughter married before I have, and that Longbourn estate is just as
much entailed as ever. The Lucases are very artful people indeed,
sister. They are all for what they can get. I am sorry to say it of
them, but so it is. It makes me very nervous and poorly, to be thwarted
so in my own family, and to have neighbours who think of themselves
before anybody else. However, your coming just at this time is the
greatest of comforts, and I am very glad to hear what you tell us, of
long sleeves."

Mrs. Gardiner, to whom the chief of this news had been given before, in
the course of Jane and Elizabeth's correspondence with her, made her
sister a slight answer, and in compassion to her nieces turned the
conversation.

When alone with Elizabeth afterwards, she spoke more on the subject. "It
seems likely to have been a desirable match for Jane," said she. "I am
sorry it went off. But these things happen so often! A young man, such
as you describe Mr. Bingley, so easily falls in love with a pretty girl
for a few weeks, and when accident separates them, so easily forgets
her, that these sort of inconstancies are very frequent."

"An excellent consolation in its way," said Elizabeth, "but it will not
do for _us_. We do not suffer by _accident_. It does not often happen
that the interference of friends will persuade a young man of
independent fortune to think no more of a girl, whom he was violently in
love with only a few days before."

"But that expression of 'violently in love' is so hackneyed, so
doubtful, so indefinite, that it gives me very little idea. It is as
often applied to feelings which arise from an half-hour's acquaintance,
as to a real, strong attachment. Pray, how _violent was_ Mr. Bingley's
love?"

"I never saw a more promising inclination. He was growing quite
inattentive to other people, and wholly engrossed by her. Every time
they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball he
offended two or three young ladies, by not asking them to dance, and I
spoke to him twice myself, without receiving an answer. Could there be
finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?"

"Oh, yes!--of that kind of love which I suppose him to have felt. Poor
Jane! I am sorry for her, because, with her disposition, she may not get
over it immediately. It had better have happened to _you_, Lizzy; you
would have laughed yourself out of it sooner. But do you think she
would be prevailed on to go back with us? Change of scene might be of
service--and perhaps a little relief from home, may be as useful as
anything."

Elizabeth was exceedingly pleased with this proposal, and felt persuaded
of her sister's ready acquiescence.

"I hope," added Mrs. Gardiner, "that no consideration with regard to
this young man will influence her. We live in so different a part of
town, all our connections are so different, and, as you well know, we go
out so little, that it is very improbable they should meet at all,
unless he really comes to see her."

"And _that_ is quite impossible; for he is now in the custody of his
friend, and Mr. Darcy would no more suffer him to call on Jane in such a
part of London! My dear aunt, how could you think of it? Mr. Darcy may
perhaps have _heard_ of such a place as Gracechurch Street, but he would
hardly think a month's ablution enough to cleanse him from its
impurities, were he once to enter it; and depend upon it, Mr. Bingley
never stirs without him."

"So much the better. I hope they will not meet at all. But does not Jane
correspond with the sister? _She_ will not be able to help calling."

"She will drop the acquaintance entirely."

But in spite of the certainty in which Elizabeth affected to place this
point, as well as the still more interesting one of Bingley's being
withheld from seeing Jane, she felt a solicitude on the subject which
convinced her, on examination, that she did not consider it entirely
hopeless. It was possible, and sometimes she thought it probable, that
his affection might be re-animated, and the influence of his friends
successfully combated by the more natural influence of Jane's
attractions.

Miss Bennet accepted her aunt's invitation with pleasure; and the
Bingleys were no otherwise in her thoughts at the time, than as she
hoped that, by Caroline's not living in the same house with her brother,
she might occasionally spend a morning with her, without any danger of
seeing him.

The Gardiners staid a week at Longbourn; and what with the Philipses,
the Lucases, and the officers, there was not a day without its
engagement. Mrs. Bennet had so carefully provided for the entertainment
of her brother and sister, that they did not once sit down to a family
dinner. When the engagement was for home, some of the officers always
made part of it, of which officers Mr. Wickham was sure to be one; and
on these occasions, Mrs. Gardiner, rendered suspicious by Elizabeth's
warm commendation of him, narrowly observed them both. Without supposing
them, from what she saw, to be very seriously in love, their preference
of each other was plain enough to make her a little uneasy; and she
resolved to speak to Elizabeth on the subject before she left
Hertfordshire, and represent to her the imprudence of encouraging such
an attachment.

To Mrs. Gardiner, Wickham had one means of affording pleasure,
unconnected with his general powers. About ten or a dozen years ago,
before her marriage, she had spent a considerable time in that very part
of Derbyshire, to which he belonged. They had, therefore, many
acquaintance in common; and, though Wickham had been little there since
the death of Darcy's father, five years before, it was yet in his power
to give her fresher intelligence of her former friends, than she had
been in the way of procuring.

Mrs. Gardiner had seen Pemberley, and known the late Mr. Darcy by
character perfectly well. Here consequently was an inexhaustible subject
of discourse. In comparing her recollection of Pemberley, with the
minute description which Wickham could give, and in bestowing her
tribute of praise on the character of its late possessor, she was
delighting both him and herself. On being made acquainted with the
present Mr. Darcy's treatment of him, she tried to remember something of
that gentleman's reputed disposition when quite a lad, which might agree
with it, and was confident at last, that she recollected having heard
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy formerly spoken of as a very proud, ill-natured
boy.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Mrs. Bennets brother and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, come to spend Christmas at Longbourn. Mr. Gardiner is a sensible, gentlemanly person, and his wife is an amiable, elegant woman who is very fond of her nieces, especially the elder two. Mrs. Bennet airs her grievances to her sister-in-law, stating her distress over her failure to get Jane and Elizabeth engaged or married. Mrs. Gardiner suggests a change of scene for Jane to help get over her disappointment over Bingley. It is decided that Jane will return to London with her uncle and aunt. While the Gardiners spend the week at Longbourn, there are frequent visitors; Wickham is the most regular one. Mrs. Gardiner views with suspicion Elizabeths attraction to Wickham. Mrs. Gardiner has spent a considerable time in Derbyshire and knows the area from where Wickham comes. They have mutual acquaintances there, and Wickham is able to update her with information. Mrs. Gardiner talks of the Darcy family. She has seen Pemberley, the Darcy estate, which is very impressive. She also speaks very highly of the late Mr. Darcy. She has a vague recollection that his son, Fitzwilliam Darcy, is a very proud, ill-natured young man. This reconfirms Elizabeths opinion of him.


prompt:
Chapter: Mrs. Gardiner's caution to Elizabeth was punctually and kindly given on
the first favourable opportunity of speaking to her alone; after
honestly telling her what she thought, she thus went on:

"You are too sensible a girl, Lizzy, to fall in love merely because you
are warned against it; and, therefore, I am not afraid of speaking
openly. Seriously, I would have you be on your guard. Do not involve
yourself, or endeavour to involve him in an affection which the want of
fortune would make so very imprudent. I have nothing to say against
_him_; he is a most interesting young man; and if he had the fortune he
ought to have, I should think you could not do better. But as it is--you
must not let your fancy run away with you. You have sense, and we all
expect you to use it. Your father would depend on _your_ resolution and
good conduct, I am sure. You must not disappoint your father."

"My dear aunt, this is being serious indeed."

"Yes, and I hope to engage you to be serious likewise."

"Well, then, you need not be under any alarm. I will take care of
myself, and of Mr. Wickham too. He shall not be in love with me, if I
can prevent it."

"Elizabeth, you are not serious now."

"I beg your pardon. I will try again. At present I am not in love with
Mr. Wickham; no, I certainly am not. But he is, beyond all comparison,
the most agreeable man I ever saw--and if he becomes really attached to
me--I believe it will be better that he should not. I see the imprudence
of it.--Oh! _that_ abominable Mr. Darcy!--My father's opinion of me does
me the greatest honour; and I should be miserable to forfeit it. My
father, however, is partial to Mr. Wickham. In short, my dear aunt, I
should be very sorry to be the means of making any of you unhappy; but
since we see every day that where there is affection, young people are
seldom withheld by immediate want of fortune, from entering into
engagements with each other, how can I promise to be wiser than so many
of my fellow creatures if I am tempted, or how am I even to know that it
would be wisdom to resist? All that I can promise you, therefore, is not
to be in a hurry. I will not be in a hurry to believe myself his first
object. When I am in company with him, I will not be wishing. In short,
I will do my best."

"Perhaps it will be as well, if you discourage his coming here so very
often. At least, you should not _remind_ your Mother of inviting him."

"As I did the other day," said Elizabeth, with a conscious smile; "very
true, it will be wise in me to refrain from _that_. But do not imagine
that he is always here so often. It is on your account that he has been
so frequently invited this week. You know my mother's ideas as to the
necessity of constant company for her friends. But really, and upon my
honour, I will try to do what I think to be wisest; and now, I hope you
are satisfied."

Her aunt assured her that she was; and Elizabeth having thanked her for
the kindness of her hints, they parted; a wonderful instance of advice
being given on such a point, without being resented.

Mr. Collins returned into Hertfordshire soon after it had been quitted
by the Gardiners and Jane; but as he took up his abode with the Lucases,
his arrival was no great inconvenience to Mrs. Bennet. His marriage was
now fast approaching, and she was at length so far resigned as to think
it inevitable, and even repeatedly to say in an ill-natured tone that
she "_wished_ they might be happy." Thursday was to be the wedding day,
and on Wednesday Miss Lucas paid her farewell visit; and when she rose
to take leave, Elizabeth, ashamed of her mother's ungracious and
reluctant good wishes, and sincerely affected herself, accompanied her
out of the room. As they went down stairs together, Charlotte said,

"I shall depend on hearing from you very often, Eliza."

"_That_ you certainly shall."

"And I have another favour to ask. Will you come and see me?"

"We shall often meet, I hope, in Hertfordshire."

"I am not likely to leave Kent for some time. Promise me, therefore, to
come to Hunsford."

Elizabeth could not refuse, though she foresaw little pleasure in the
visit.

"My father and Maria are to come to me in March," added Charlotte, "and
I hope you will consent to be of the party. Indeed, Eliza, you will be
as welcome to me as either of them."

The wedding took place; the bride and bridegroom set off for Kent from
the church door, and every body had as much to say or to hear on the
subject as usual. Elizabeth soon heard from her friend; and their
correspondence was as regular and frequent as it had ever been; that it
should be equally unreserved was impossible. Elizabeth could never
address her without feeling that all the comfort of intimacy was over,
and, though determined not to slacken as a correspondent, it was for the
sake of what had been, rather than what was. Charlotte's first letters
were received with a good deal of eagerness; there could not but be
curiosity to know how she would speak of her new home, how she would
like Lady Catherine, and how happy she would dare pronounce herself to
be; though, when the letters were read, Elizabeth felt that Charlotte
expressed herself on every point exactly as she might have foreseen. She
wrote cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts, and mentioned nothing
which she could not praise. The house, furniture, neighbourhood, and
roads, were all to her taste, and Lady Catherine's behaviour was most
friendly and obliging. It was Mr. Collins's picture of Hunsford and
Rosings rationally softened; and Elizabeth perceived that she must wait
for her own visit there, to know the rest.

Jane had already written a few lines to her sister to announce their
safe arrival in London; and when she wrote again, Elizabeth hoped it
would be in her power to say something of the Bingleys.

Her impatience for this second letter was as well rewarded as impatience
generally is. Jane had been a week in town, without either seeing or
hearing from Caroline. She accounted for it, however, by supposing that
her last letter to her friend from Longbourn, had by some accident been
lost.

"My aunt," she continued, "is going to-morrow into that part of the
town, and I shall take the opportunity of calling in Grosvenor-street."

She wrote again when the visit was paid, and she had seen Miss Bingley.
"I did not think Caroline in spirits," were her words, "but she was very
glad to see me, and reproached me for giving her no notice of my coming
to London. I was right, therefore; my last letter had never reached her.
I enquired after their brother, of course. He was well, but so much
engaged with Mr. Darcy, that they scarcely ever saw him. I found that
Miss Darcy was expected to dinner. I wish I could see her. My visit was
not long, as Caroline and Mrs. Hurst were going out. I dare say I shall
soon see them here."

Elizabeth shook her head over this letter. It convinced her, that
accident only could discover to Mr. Bingley her sister's being in town.

Four weeks passed away, and Jane saw nothing of him. She endeavoured to
persuade herself that she did not regret it; but she could no longer be
blind to Miss Bingley's inattention. After waiting at home every morning
for a fortnight, and inventing every evening a fresh excuse for her, the
visitor did at last appear; but the shortness of her stay, and yet more,
the alteration of her manner, would allow Jane to deceive herself no
longer. The letter which she wrote on this occasion to her sister, will
prove what she felt.

     "My dearest Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in
     her better judgment, at my expence, when I confess myself to have
     been entirely deceived in Miss Bingley's regard for me. But, my
     dear sister, though the event has proved you right, do not think me
     obstinate if I still assert, that, considering what her behaviour
     was, my confidence was as natural as your suspicion. I do not at
     all comprehend her reason for wishing to be intimate with me, but
     if the same circumstances were to happen again, I am sure I should
     be deceived again. Caroline did not return my visit till yesterday;
     and not a note, not a line, did I receive in the mean time. When
     she did come, it was very evident that she had no pleasure in it;
     she made a slight, formal, apology, for not calling before, said
     not a word of wishing to see me again, and was in every respect so
     altered a creature, that when she went away, I was perfectly
     resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer. I pity, though I
     cannot help blaming her. She was very wrong in singling me out as
     she did; I can safely say, that every advance to intimacy began on
     her side. But I pity her, because she must feel that she has been
     acting wrong, and because I am very sure that anxiety for her
     brother is the cause of it. I need not explain myself farther; and
     though _we_ know this anxiety to be quite needless, yet if she
     feels it, it will easily account for her behaviour to me; and so
     deservedly dear as he is to his sister, whatever anxiety she may
     feel on his behalf, is natural and amiable. I cannot but wonder,
     however, at her having any such fears now, because, if he had at
     all cared about me, we must have met long, long ago. He knows of my
     being in town, I am certain, from something she said herself; and
     yet it should seem by her manner of talking, as if she wanted to
     persuade herself that he is really partial to Miss Darcy. I cannot
     understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should
     be almost tempted to say, that there is a strong appearance of
     duplicity in all this. But I will endeavour to banish every painful
     thought, and think only of what will make me happy, your affection,
     and the invariable kindness of my dear uncle and aunt. Let me hear
     from you very soon. Miss Bingley said something of his never
     returning to Netherfield again, of giving up the house, but not
     with any certainty. We had better not mention it. I am extremely
     glad that you have such pleasant accounts from our friends at
     Hunsford. Pray go to see them, with Sir William and Maria. I am
     sure you will be very comfortable there.

     "Your's, &c."

This letter gave Elizabeth some pain; but her spirits returned as she
considered that Jane would no longer be duped, by the sister at least.
All expectation from the brother was now absolutely over. She would not
even wish for any renewal of his attentions. His character sunk on every
review of it; and as a punishment for him, as well as a possible
advantage to Jane, she seriously hoped he might really soon marry Mr.
Darcy's sister, as, by Wickham's account, she would make him abundantly
regret what he had thrown away.

Mrs. Gardiner about this time reminded Elizabeth of her promise
concerning that gentleman, and required information; and Elizabeth had
such to send as might rather give contentment to her aunt than to
herself. His apparent partiality had subsided, his attentions were over,
he was the admirer of some one else. Elizabeth was watchful enough to
see it all, but she could see it and write of it without material pain.
Her heart had been but slightly touched, and her vanity was satisfied
with believing that _she_ would have been his only choice, had fortune
permitted it. The sudden acquisition of ten thousand pounds was the most
remarkable charm of the young lady, to whom he was now rendering himself
agreeable; but Elizabeth, less clear-sighted perhaps in his case than
in Charlotte's, did not quarrel with him for his wish of independence.
Nothing, on the contrary, could be more natural; and while able to
suppose that it cost him a few struggles to relinquish her, she was
ready to allow it a wise and desirable measure for both, and could very
sincerely wish him happy.

All this was acknowledged to Mrs. Gardiner; and after relating the
circumstances, she thus went on:--"I am now convinced, my dear aunt,
that I have never been much in love; for had I really experienced that
pure and elevating passion, I should at present detest his very name,
and wish him all manner of evil. But my feelings are not only cordial
towards _him_; they are even impartial towards Miss King. I cannot find
out that I hate her at all, or that I am in the least unwilling to think
her a very good sort of girl. There can be no love in all this. My
watchfulness has been effectual; and though I should certainly be a more
interesting object to all my acquaintance, were I distractedly in love
with him, I cannot say that I regret my comparative insignificance.
Importance may sometimes be purchased too dearly. Kitty and Lydia take
his defection much more to heart than I do. They are young in the ways
of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction that
handsome young men must have something to live on, as well as the
plain."

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Mrs. Gardiner cautions Elizabeth against falling in love with Wickham, who lacks wealth. Elizabeth denies that she is in love with him, but admits he is the most agreeable man she has ever come across. She promises her aunt that even if she is tempted at a later stage, she will not do anything in a hurry. Soon after the departure of the Gardiners and Jane, Mr. Collins returns to Hertfordshire. The wedding takes place on a Thursday and Mr. Collins and his bride leave for Kent immediately after the ceremony. Charlotte has extracted a promise from Elizabeth that she will visit them in March. Janes letter arrives stating that she has arrived safely in London. Jane has written to Caroline Bingley, but has received no reply from her. Jane naively rationalizes that her letter must not have reached Caroline. When Jane visits Miss Bingley, her welcome is lukewarm; she says that she did not receive Janes letter. Caroline Bingley does not return Janes visit for four weeks; when she calls, her stay is short and brusque. Jane begins to understand that Caroline does not really care for her and writes to Elizabeth about it. Wickham relocates his affections from Elizabeth to a Miss King, who has just inherited ten thousand pounds. Elizabeth writes to her aunt that she is not in love with Wickham and feels only cordiality towards him.


prompt:
Chapter: With no greater events than these in the Longbourn family, and otherwise
diversified by little beyond the walks to Meryton, sometimes dirty and
sometimes cold, did January and February pass away. March was to take
Elizabeth to Hunsford. She had not at first thought very seriously of
going thither; but Charlotte, she soon found, was depending on the plan,
and she gradually learned to consider it herself with greater pleasure
as well as greater certainty. Absence had increased her desire of seeing
Charlotte again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. Collins. There was
novelty in the scheme, and as, with such a mother and such
uncompanionable sisters, home could not be faultless, a little change
was not unwelcome for its own sake. The journey would moreover give her
a peep at Jane; and, in short, as the time drew near, she would have
been very sorry for any delay. Every thing, however, went on smoothly,
and was finally settled according to Charlotte's first sketch. She was
to accompany Sir William and his second daughter. The improvement of
spending a night in London was added in time, and the plan became
perfect as plan could be.

The only pain was in leaving her father, who would certainly miss her,
and who, when it came to the point, so little liked her going, that he
told her to write to him, and almost promised to answer her letter.

The farewell between herself and Mr. Wickham was perfectly friendly; on
his side even more. His present pursuit could not make him forget that
Elizabeth had been the first to excite and to deserve his attention, the
first to listen and to pity, the first to be admired; and in his manner
of bidding her adieu, wishing her every enjoyment, reminding her of what
she was to expect in Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and trusting their
opinion of her--their opinion of every body--would always coincide,
there was a solicitude, an interest which she felt must ever attach her
to him with a most sincere regard; and she parted from him convinced,
that whether married or single, he must always be her model of the
amiable and pleasing.

Her fellow-travellers the next day, were not of a kind to make her think
him less agreeable. Sir William Lucas, and his daughter Maria, a good
humoured girl, but as empty-headed as himself, had nothing to say that
could be worth hearing, and were listened to with about as much delight
as the rattle of the chaise. Elizabeth loved absurdities, but she had
known Sir William's too long. He could tell her nothing new of the
wonders of his presentation and knighthood; and his civilities were worn
out like his information.

It was a journey of only twenty-four miles, and they began it so early
as to be in Gracechurch-street by noon. As they drove to Mr. Gardiner's
door, Jane was at a drawing-room window watching their arrival; when
they entered the passage she was there to welcome them, and Elizabeth,
looking earnestly in her face, was pleased to see it healthful and
lovely as ever. On the stairs were a troop of little boys and girls,
whose eagerness for their cousin's appearance would not allow them to
wait in the drawing-room, and whose shyness, as they had not seen her
for a twelvemonth, prevented their coming lower. All was joy and
kindness. The day passed most pleasantly away; the morning in bustle and
shopping, and the evening at one of the theatres.

Elizabeth then contrived to sit by her aunt. Their first subject was her
sister; and she was more grieved than astonished to hear, in reply to
her minute enquiries, that though Jane always struggled to support her
spirits, there were periods of dejection. It was reasonable, however, to
hope, that they would not continue long. Mrs. Gardiner gave her the
particulars also of Miss Bingley's visit in Gracechurch-street, and
repeated conversations occurring at different times between Jane and
herself, which proved that the former had, from her heart, given up the
acquaintance.

Mrs. Gardiner then rallied her niece on Wickham's desertion, and
complimented her on bearing it so well.

"But, my dear Elizabeth," she added, "what sort of girl is Miss King? I
should be sorry to think our friend mercenary."

"Pray, my dear aunt, what is the difference in matrimonial affairs,
between the mercenary and the prudent motive? Where does discretion end,
and avarice begin? Last Christmas you were afraid of his marrying me,
because it would be imprudent; and now, because he is trying to get a
girl with only ten thousand pounds, you want to find out that he is
mercenary."

"If you will only tell me what sort of girl Miss King is, I shall know
what to think."

"She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I know no harm of her."

"But he paid her not the smallest attention, till her grandfather's
death made her mistress of this fortune."

"No--why should he? If it was not allowable for him to gain _my_
affections, because I had no money, what occasion could there be for
making love to a girl whom he did not care about, and who was equally
poor?"

"But there seems indelicacy in directing his attentions towards her, so
soon after this event."

"A man in distressed circumstances has not time for all those elegant
decorums which other people may observe. If _she_ does not object to it,
why should _we_?"

"_Her_ not objecting, does not justify _him_. It only shews her being
deficient in something herself--sense or feeling."

"Well," cried Elizabeth, "have it as you choose. _He_ shall be
mercenary, and _she_ shall be foolish."

"No, Lizzy, that is what I do _not_ choose. I should be sorry, you know,
to think ill of a young man who has lived so long in Derbyshire."

"Oh! if that is all, I have a very poor opinion of young men who live in
Derbyshire; and their intimate friends who live in Hertfordshire are not
much better. I am sick of them all. Thank Heaven! I am going to-morrow
where I shall find a man who has not one agreeable quality, who has
neither manner nor sense to recommend him. Stupid men are the only ones
worth knowing, after all."

"Take care, Lizzy; that speech savours strongly of disappointment."

Before they were separated by the conclusion of the play, she had the
unexpected happiness of an invitation to accompany her uncle and aunt in
a tour of pleasure which they proposed taking in the summer.

"We have not quite determined how far it shall carry us," said Mrs.
Gardiner, "but perhaps to the Lakes."

No scheme could have been more agreeable to Elizabeth, and her
acceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful. "My dear, dear
aunt," she rapturously cried, "what delight! what felicity! You give me
fresh life and vigour. Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What are men
to rocks and mountains? Oh! what hours of transport we shall spend! And
when we _do_ return, it shall not be like other travellers, without
being able to give one accurate idea of any thing. We _will_ know where
we have gone--we _will_ recollect what we have seen. Lakes, mountains,
and rivers, shall not be jumbled together in our imaginations; nor, when
we attempt to describe any particular scene, will we begin quarrelling
about its relative situation. Let _our_ first effusions be less
insupportable than those of the generality of travellers."

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: In March, Elizabeth accompanies the Lucases to London, for she is eager see Jane. They are to spend the night at the Gardiners, where Jane eagerly awaits her sister. Mrs. Gardiner confides in Elizabeth that although Jane still has periods of utter dejection even though she tries to be cheerful. Mrs. Gardiner compliments Elizabeth on bearing Wickhams new attachment to Miss King with grace. Elizabeth thoroughly enjoys her stay with the Gardiners. She readily accepts their invitation to accompany them on their summer vacation.


prompt:
Chapter: Every object in the next day's journey was new and interesting to
Elizabeth; and her spirits were in a state for enjoyment; for she had
seen her sister looking so well as to banish all fear for her health,
and the prospect of her northern tour was a constant source of delight.

When they left the high road for the lane to Hunsford, every eye was in
search of the Parsonage, and every turning expected to bring it in view.
The paling of Rosings Park was their boundary on one side. Elizabeth
smiled at the recollection of all that she had heard of its inhabitants.

At length the Parsonage was discernible. The garden sloping to the road,
the house standing in it, the green pales and the laurel hedge, every
thing declared they were arriving. Mr. Collins and Charlotte appeared at
the door, and the carriage stopped at the small gate, which led by a
short gravel walk to the house, amidst the nods and smiles of the whole
party. In a moment they were all out of the chaise, rejoicing at the
sight of each other. Mrs. Collins welcomed her friend with the liveliest
pleasure, and Elizabeth was more and more satisfied with coming, when
she found herself so affectionately received. She saw instantly that her
cousin's manners were not altered by his marriage; his formal civility
was just what it had been, and he detained her some minutes at the gate
to hear and satisfy his enquiries after all her family. They were then,
with no other delay than his pointing out the neatness of the entrance,
taken into the house; and as soon as they were in the parlour, he
welcomed them a second time with ostentatious formality to his humble
abode, and punctually repeated all his wife's offers of refreshment.

Elizabeth was prepared to see him in his glory; and she could not help
fancying that in displaying the good proportion of the room, its aspect
and its furniture, he addressed himself particularly to her, as if
wishing to make her feel what she had lost in refusing him. But though
every thing seemed neat and comfortable, she was not able to gratify him
by any sigh of repentance; and rather looked with wonder at her friend
that she could have so cheerful an air, with such a companion. When Mr.
Collins said any thing of which his wife might reasonably be ashamed,
which certainly was not unseldom, she involuntarily turned her eye on
Charlotte. Once or twice she could discern a faint blush; but in general
Charlotte wisely did not hear. After sitting long enough to admire every
article of furniture in the room, from the sideboard to the fender, to
give an account of their journey and of all that had happened in London,
Mr. Collins invited them to take a stroll in the garden, which was large
and well laid out, and to the cultivation of which he attended himself.
To work in his garden was one of his most respectable pleasures; and
Elizabeth admired the command of countenance with which Charlotte talked
of the healthfulness of the exercise, and owned she encouraged it as
much as possible. Here, leading the way through every walk and cross
walk, and scarcely allowing them an interval to utter the praises he
asked for, every view was pointed out with a minuteness which left
beauty entirely behind. He could number the fields in every direction,
and could tell how many trees there were in the most distant clump. But
of all the views which his garden, or which the country, or the kingdom
could boast, none were to be compared with the prospect of Rosings,
afforded by an opening in the trees that bordered the park nearly
opposite the front of his house. It was a handsome modern building, well
situated on rising ground.

From his garden, Mr. Collins would have led them round his two meadows,
but the ladies not having shoes to encounter the remains of a white
frost, turned back; and while Sir William accompanied him, Charlotte
took her sister and friend over the house, extremely well pleased,
probably, to have the opportunity of shewing it without her husband's
help. It was rather small, but well built and convenient; and every
thing was fitted up and arranged with a neatness and consistency of
which Elizabeth gave Charlotte all the credit. When Mr. Collins could be
forgotten, there was really a great air of comfort throughout, and by
Charlotte's evident enjoyment of it, Elizabeth supposed he must be often
forgotten.

She had already learnt that Lady Catherine was still in the country. It
was spoken of again while they were at dinner, when Mr. Collins joining
in, observed,

"Yes, Miss Elizabeth, you will have the honour of seeing Lady Catherine
de Bourgh on the ensuing Sunday at church, and I need not say you will
be delighted with her. She is all affability and condescension, and I
doubt not but you will be honoured with some portion of her notice when
service is over. I have scarcely any hesitation in saying that she will
include you and my sister Maria in every invitation with which she
honours us during your stay here. Her behaviour to my dear Charlotte is
charming. We dine at Rosings twice every week, and are never allowed to
walk home. Her ladyship's carriage is regularly ordered for us. I
_should_ say, one of her ladyship's carriages, for she has several."

"Lady Catherine is a very respectable, sensible woman indeed," added
Charlotte, "and a most attentive neighbour."

"Very true, my dear, that is exactly what I say. She is the sort of
woman whom one cannot regard with too much deference."

The evening was spent chiefly in talking over Hertfordshire news, and
telling again what had been already written; and when it closed,
Elizabeth in the solitude of her chamber had to meditate upon
Charlotte's degree of contentment, to understand her address in guiding,
and composure in bearing with her husband, and to acknowledge that it
was all done very well. She had also to anticipate how her visit would
pass, the quiet tenor of their usual employments, the vexatious
interruptions of Mr. Collins, and the gaieties of their intercourse with
Rosings. A lively imagination soon settled it all.

About the middle of the next day, as she was in her room getting ready
for a walk, a sudden noise below seemed to speak the whole house in
confusion; and after listening a moment, she heard somebody running up
stairs in a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her. She opened the
door, and met Maria in the landing place, who, breathless with
agitation, cried out,

"Oh, my dear Eliza! pray make haste and come into the dining-room, for
there is such a sight to be seen! I will not tell you what it is. Make
haste, and come down this moment."

Elizabeth asked questions in vain; Maria would tell her nothing more,
and down they ran into the dining-room, which fronted the lane, in quest
of this wonder; it was two ladies stopping in a low phaeton at the
garden gate.

"And is this all?" cried Elizabeth. "I expected at least that the pigs
were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady Catherine and her
daughter!"

"La! my dear," said Maria quite shocked at the mistake, "it is not Lady
Catherine. The old lady is Mrs. Jenkinson, who lives with them. The
other is Miss De Bourgh. Only look at her. She is quite a little
creature. Who would have thought she could be so thin and small!"

"She is abominably rude to keep Charlotte out of doors in all this wind.
Why does she not come in?"

"Oh! Charlotte says, she hardly ever does. It is the greatest of favours
when Miss De Bourgh comes in."

"I like her appearance," said Elizabeth, struck with other ideas. "She
looks sickly and cross.--Yes, she will do for him very well. She will
make him a very proper wife."

Mr. Collins and Charlotte were both standing at the gate in
conversation with the ladies; and Sir William, to Elizabeth's high
diversion, was stationed in the doorway, in earnest contemplation of the
greatness before him, and constantly bowing whenever Miss De Bourgh
looked that way.

At length there was nothing more to be said; the ladies drove on, and
the others returned into the house. Mr. Collins no sooner saw the two
girls than he began to congratulate them on their good fortune, which
Charlotte explained by letting them know that the whole party was asked
to dine at Rosings the next day.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Elizabeth and the Lucases go to Huntsford. They meet Charlotte and Mr. Collins at the parsonage, which adjoins Lady Catherines estate, Rosings Park. Elizabeth is warmly welcomed by her girlfriend, who has not changed. She is content with marriage and has learned to gracefully bear her peculiar husband. Mr. Collins is as vainglorious and cumbersome as ever. The next morning, Maria Lucas enthusiastically points out to Elizabeth two ladies who have arrived at the garden gate. One of them is Miss de Bourgh, a thin, pale, cross-looking maiden; Elizabeth thinks that she would make an ideal wife for proud Darcy. After the guests depart, Mr. Collins says that everyone has been invited to dine at Rosings the next day.


prompt:
Chapter: Mr. Collins's triumph in consequence of this invitation was complete.
The power of displaying the grandeur of his patroness to his wondering
visitors, and of letting them see her civility towards himself and his
wife, was exactly what he had wished for; and that an opportunity of
doing it should be given so soon, was such an instance of Lady
Catherine's condescension as he knew not how to admire enough.

"I confess," said he, "that I should not have been at all surprised by
her Ladyship's asking us on Sunday to drink tea and spend the evening at
Rosings. I rather expected, from my knowledge of her affability, that it
would happen. But who could have foreseen such an attention as this? Who
could have imagined that we should receive an invitation to dine there
(an invitation moreover including the whole party) so immediately after
your arrival!"

"I am the less surprised at what has happened," replied Sir William,
"from that knowledge of what the manners of the great really are, which
my situation in life has allowed me to acquire. About the Court, such
instances of elegant breeding are not uncommon."

Scarcely any thing was talked of the whole day or next morning, but
their visit to Rosings. Mr. Collins was carefully instructing them in
what they were to expect, that the sight of such rooms, so many
servants, and so splendid a dinner might not wholly overpower them.

When the ladies were separating for the toilette, he said to Elizabeth,

"Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your apparel. Lady
Catherine is far from requiring that elegance of dress in us, which
becomes herself and daughter. I would advise you merely to put on
whatever of your clothes is superior to the rest, there is no occasion
for any thing more. Lady Catherine will not think the worse of you for
being simply dressed. She likes to have the distinction of rank
preserved."

While they were dressing, he came two or three times to their different
doors, to recommend their being quick, as Lady Catherine very much
objected to be kept waiting for her dinner.--Such formidable accounts of
her Ladyship, and her manner of living, quite frightened Maria Lucas,
who had been little used to company, and she looked forward to her
introduction at Rosings, with as much apprehension, as her father had
done to his presentation at St. James's.

As the weather was fine, they had a pleasant walk of about half a mile
across the park.--Every park has its beauty and its prospects; and
Elizabeth saw much to be pleased with, though she could not be in such
raptures as Mr. Collins expected the scene to inspire, and was but
slightly affected by his enumeration of the windows in front of the
house, and his relation of what the glazing altogether had originally
cost Sir Lewis De Bourgh.

When they ascended the steps to the hall, Maria's alarm was every
moment increasing, and even Sir William did not look perfectly
calm.--Elizabeth's courage did not fail her. She had heard nothing of
Lady Catherine that spoke her awful from any extraordinary talents or
miraculous virtue, and the mere stateliness of money and rank, she
thought she could witness without trepidation.

From the entrance hall, of which Mr. Collins pointed out, with a
rapturous air, the fine proportion and finished ornaments, they followed
the servants through an anti-chamber, to the room where Lady Catherine,
her daughter, and Mrs. Jenkinson were sitting.--Her Ladyship, with great
condescension, arose to receive them; and as Mrs. Collins had settled it
with her husband that the office of introduction should be her's, it was
performed in a proper manner, without any of those apologies and thanks
which he would have thought necessary.

In spite of having been at St. James's, Sir William was so completely
awed, by the grandeur surrounding him, that he had but just courage
enough to make a very low bow, and take his seat without saying a word;
and his daughter, frightened almost out of her senses, sat on the edge
of her chair, not knowing which way to look. Elizabeth found herself
quite equal to the scene, and could observe the three ladies before her
composedly.--Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman, with
strongly-marked features, which might once have been handsome. Her air
was not conciliating, nor was her manner of receiving them, such as to
make her visitors forget their inferior rank. She was not rendered
formidable by silence; but whatever she said, was spoken in so
authoritative a tone, as marked her self-importance, and brought Mr.
Wickham immediately to Elizabeth's mind; and from the observation of the
day altogether, she believed Lady Catherine to be exactly what he had
represented.

When, after examining the mother, in whose countenance and deportment
she soon found some resemblance of Mr. Darcy, she turned her eyes on the
daughter, she could almost have joined in Maria's astonishment, at her
being so thin, and so small. There was neither in figure nor face, any
likeness between the ladies. Miss De Bourgh was pale and sickly; her
features, though not plain, were insignificant; and she spoke very
little, except in a low voice, to Mrs. Jenkinson, in whose appearance
there was nothing remarkable, and who was entirely engaged in listening
to what she said, and placing a screen in the proper direction before
her eyes.

After sitting a few minutes, they were all sent to one of the windows,
to admire the view, Mr. Collins attending them to point out its
beauties, and Lady Catherine kindly informing them that it was much
better worth looking at in the summer.

The dinner was exceedingly handsome, and there were all the servants,
and all the articles of plate which Mr. Collins had promised; and, as he
had likewise foretold, he took his seat at the bottom of the table, by
her ladyship's desire, and looked as if he felt that life could furnish
nothing greater.--He carved, and ate, and praised with delighted
alacrity; and every dish was commended, first by him, and then by Sir
William, who was now enough recovered to echo whatever his son in law
said, in a manner which Elizabeth wondered Lady Catherine could bear.
But Lady Catherine seemed gratified by their excessive admiration, and
gave most gracious smiles, especially when any dish on the table proved
a novelty to them. The party did not supply much conversation. Elizabeth
was ready to speak whenever there was an opening, but she was seated
between Charlotte and Miss De Bourgh--the former of whom was engaged in
listening to Lady Catherine, and the latter said not a word to her all
dinner time. Mrs. Jenkinson was chiefly employed in watching how little
Miss De Bourgh ate, pressing her to try some other dish, and fearing she
were indisposed. Maria thought speaking out of the question, and the
gentlemen did nothing but eat and admire.

When the ladies returned to the drawing-room, there was little to be
done but to hear Lady Catherine talk, which she did without any
intermission till coffee came in, delivering her opinion on every
subject in so decisive a manner as proved that she was not used to have
her judgment controverted. She enquired into Charlotte's domestic
concerns familiarly and minutely, and gave her a great deal of advice,
as to the management of them all; told her how every thing ought to be
regulated in so small a family as her's, and instructed her as to the
care of her cows and her poultry. Elizabeth found that nothing was
beneath this great Lady's attention, which could furnish her with an
occasion of dictating to others. In the intervals of her discourse with
Mrs. Collins, she addressed a variety of questions to Maria and
Elizabeth, but especially to the latter, of whose connections she knew
the least, and who she observed to Mrs. Collins, was a very genteel,
pretty kind of girl. She asked her at different times, how many sisters
she had, whether they were older or younger than herself, whether any of
them were likely to be married, whether they were handsome, where they
had been educated, what carriage her father kept, and what had been her
mother's maiden name?--Elizabeth felt all the impertinence of her
questions, but answered them very composedly.--Lady Catherine then
observed,

"Your father's estate is entailed on Mr. Collins, I think. For your
sake," turning to Charlotte, "I am glad of it; but otherwise I see no
occasion for entailing estates from the female line.--It was not thought
necessary in Sir Lewis de Bourgh's family.--Do you play and sing, Miss
Bennet?"

"A little."

"Oh! then--some time or other we shall be happy to hear you. Our
instrument is a capital one, probably superior to----You shall try it
some day.--Do your sisters play and sing?"

"One of them does."

"Why did not you all learn?--You ought all to have learned. The Miss
Webbs all play, and their father has not so good an income as
your's.--Do you draw?"

"No, not at all."

"What, none of you?"

"Not one."

"That is very strange. But I suppose you had no opportunity. Your mother
should have taken you to town every spring for the benefit of masters."

"My mother would have had no objection, but my father hates London."

"Has your governess left you?"

"We never had any governess."

"No governess! How was that possible? Five daughters brought up at home
without a governess!--I never heard of such a thing. Your mother must
have been quite a slave to your education."

Elizabeth could hardly help smiling, as she assured her that had not
been the case.

"Then, who taught you? who attended to you? Without a governess you must
have been neglected."

"Compared with some families, I believe we were; but such of us as
wished to learn, never wanted the means. We were always encouraged to
read, and had all the masters that were necessary. Those who chose to be
idle, certainly might."

"Aye, no doubt; but that is what a governess will prevent, and if I had
known your mother, I should have advised her most strenuously to engage
one. I always say that nothing is to be done in education without steady
and regular instruction, and nobody but a governess can give it. It is
wonderful how many families I have been the means of supplying in that
way. I am always glad to get a young person well placed out. Four nieces
of Mrs. Jenkinson are most delightfully situated through my means; and
it was but the other day, that I recommended another young person, who
was merely accidentally mentioned to me, and the family are quite
delighted with her. Mrs. Collins, did I tell you of Lady Metcalfe's
calling yesterday to thank me? She finds Miss Pope a treasure. 'Lady
Catherine,' said she, 'you have given me a treasure.' Are any of your
younger sisters out, Miss Bennet?"

"Yes, Ma'am, all."

"All!--What, all five out at once? Very odd!--And you only the
second.--The younger ones out before the elder are married!--Your
younger sisters must be very young?"

"Yes, my youngest is not sixteen. Perhaps _she_ is full young to be much
in company. But really, Ma'am, I think it would be very hard upon
younger sisters, that they should not have their share of society and
amusement because the elder may not have the means or inclination to
marry early.--The last born has as good a right to the pleasures of
youth, as the first. And to be kept back on _such_ a motive!--I think it
would not be very likely to promote sisterly affection or delicacy of
mind."

"Upon my word," said her Ladyship, "you give your opinion very
decidedly for so young a person.--Pray, what is your age?"

"With three younger sisters grown up," replied Elizabeth smiling, "your
Ladyship can hardly expect me to own it."

Lady Catherine seemed quite astonished at not receiving a direct answer;
and Elizabeth suspected herself to be the first creature who had ever
dared to trifle with so much dignified impertinence.

"You cannot be more than twenty, I am sure,--therefore you need not
conceal your age."

"I am not one and twenty."

When the gentlemen had joined them, and tea was over, the card tables
were placed. Lady Catherine, Sir William, and Mr. and Mrs. Collins sat
down to quadrille; and as Miss De Bourgh chose to play at cassino, the
two girls had the honour of assisting Mrs. Jenkinson to make up her
party. Their table was superlatively stupid. Scarcely a syllable was
uttered that did not relate to the game, except when Mrs. Jenkinson
expressed her fears of Miss De Bourgh's being too hot or too cold, or
having too much or too little light. A great deal more passed at the
other table. Lady Catherine was generally speaking--stating the mistakes
of the three others, or relating some anecdote of herself. Mr. Collins
was employed in agreeing to every thing her Ladyship said, thanking her
for every fish he won, and apologising if he thought he won too many.
Sir William did not say much. He was storing his memory with anecdotes
and noble names.

When Lady Catherine and her daughter had played as long as they chose,
the tables were broke up, the carriage was offered to Mrs. Collins,
gratefully accepted, and immediately ordered. The party then gathered
round the fire to hear Lady Catherine determine what weather they were
to have on the morrow. From these instructions they were summoned by the
arrival of the coach, and with many speeches of thankfulness on Mr.
Collins's side, and as many bows on Sir William's, they departed. As
soon as they had driven from the door, Elizabeth was called on by her
cousin, to give her opinion of all that she had seen at Rosings, which,
for Charlotte's sake, she made more favourable than it really was. But
her commendation, though costing her some trouble, could by no means
satisfy Mr. Collins, and he was very soon obliged to take her Ladyship's
praise into his own hands.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Mr. Collins is ecstatic over the invitation to Rosings, for he wants to display "the grandeur of his patroness to his wandering visitors" and to show "her civility towards himself and his wife." He spends hours instructing the guests on what they are to expect and how they are to behave at Lady Catherines. The company arrives at Rosings. They are greeted by Lady Catherine with an air of condescension designed "not to make her visitors forget their inferior rank." Lady Catherine is a tall, large woman who speaks in an authoritative tone. Her daughter is a sickly, diminutive creature who speaks in a muffled voice, but only to Mrs. Jenkinson, who fusses over her comforts. Mr. Collins raves about the delicious and exotic dinner; Lady Catherine seems gratified from this overdose of praise. After dinner, Lady Catherine advises Charlotte on how to manage her house, her cows, and her poultry. Elizabeth is shocked at how the woman delights in dictating to others. She is also shocked by Lady Catherines many personal questions to her about her family; Elizabeth considers them interfering and impertinent and answers in a manner that surprises the smug Lady Catherine. After several games of cards, Lady Catherine indicates that the evening is over. Mr. Collins is eager to know Elizabeths opinion about Lady Catherine and Rosings. For Charlottes sake, she says the evening and the hostess have been pleasant.


prompt:
Chapter: Sir William staid only a week at Hunsford; but his visit was long enough
to convince him of his daughter's being most comfortably settled, and of
her possessing such a husband and such a neighbour as were not often met
with. While Sir William was with them, Mr. Collins devoted his mornings
to driving him out in his gig, and shewing him the country; but when he
went away, the whole family returned to their usual employments, and
Elizabeth was thankful to find that they did not see more of her cousin
by the alteration, for the chief of the time between breakfast and
dinner was now passed by him either at work in the garden, or in reading
and writing, and looking out of window in his own book room, which
fronted the road. The room in which the ladies sat was backwards.
Elizabeth at first had rather wondered that Charlotte should not prefer
the dining-parlour for common use; it was a better sized room, and had a
pleasanter aspect; but she soon saw that her friend had an excellent
reason for what she did, for Mr. Collins would undoubtedly have been
much less in his own apartment, had they sat in one equally lively; and
she gave Charlotte credit for the arrangement.

From the drawing-room they could distinguish nothing in the lane, and
were indebted to Mr. Collins for the knowledge of what carriages went
along, and how often especially Miss De Bourgh drove by in her phaeton,
which he never failed coming to inform them of, though it happened
almost every day. She not unfrequently stopped at the Parsonage, and had
a few minutes' conversation with Charlotte, but was scarcely ever
prevailed on to get out.

Very few days passed in which Mr. Collins did not walk to Rosings, and
not many in which his wife did not think it necessary to go likewise;
and till Elizabeth recollected that there might be other family livings
to be disposed of, she could not understand the sacrifice of so many
hours. Now and then, they were honoured with a call from her Ladyship,
and nothing escaped her observation that was passing in the room during
these visits. She examined into their employments, looked at their work,
and advised them to do it differently; found fault with the arrangement
of the furniture, or detected the housemaid in negligence; and if she
accepted any refreshment, seemed to do it only for the sake of finding
out that Mrs. Collins's joints of meat were too large for her family.

Elizabeth soon perceived that though this great lady was not in the
commission of the peace for the county, she was a most active magistrate
in her own parish, the minutest concerns of which were carried to her by
Mr. Collins; and whenever any of the cottagers were disposed to be
quarrelsome, discontented or too poor, she sallied forth into the
village to settle their differences, silence their complaints, and scold
them into harmony and plenty.

The entertainment of dining at Rosings was repeated about twice a week;
and, allowing for the loss of Sir William, and there being only one card
table in the evening, every such entertainment was the counterpart of
the first. Their other engagements were few; as the style of living of
the neighbourhood in general, was beyond the Collinses' reach. This
however was no evil to Elizabeth, and upon the whole she spent her time
comfortably enough; there were half hours of pleasant conversation with
Charlotte, and the weather was so fine for the time of year, that she
had often great enjoyment out of doors. Her favourite walk, and where
she frequently went while the others were calling on Lady Catherine, was
along the open grove which edged that side of the park, where there was
a nice sheltered path, which no one seemed to value but herself, and
where she felt beyond the reach of Lady Catherine's curiosity.

In this quiet way, the first fortnight of her visit soon passed away.
Easter was approaching, and the week preceding it, was to bring an
addition to the family at Rosings, which in so small a circle must be
important. Elizabeth had heard soon after her arrival, that Mr. Darcy
was expected there in the course of a few weeks, and though there were
not many of her acquaintance whom she did not prefer, his coming would
furnish one comparatively new to look at in their Rosings parties, and
she might be amused in seeing how hopeless Miss Bingley's designs on him
were, by his behaviour to his cousin, for whom he was evidently destined
by Lady Catherine; who talked of his coming with the greatest
satisfaction, spoke of him in terms of the highest admiration, and
seemed almost angry to find that he had already been frequently seen by
Miss Lucas and herself.

His arrival was soon known at the Parsonage, for Mr. Collins was walking
the whole morning within view of the lodges opening into Hunsford Lane,
in order to have the earliest assurance of it; and after making his bow
as the carriage turned into the Park, hurried home with the great
intelligence. On the following morning he hastened to Rosings to pay his
respects. There were two nephews of Lady Catherine to require them, for
Mr. Darcy had brought with him a Colonel Fitzwilliam, the younger son of
his uncle, Lord ---- and to the great surprise of all the party, when
Mr. Collins returned the gentlemen accompanied him. Charlotte had seen
them from her husband's room, crossing the road, and immediately running
into the other, told the girls what an honour they might expect, adding,

"I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy would
never have come so soon to wait upon me."

Elizabeth had scarcely time to disclaim all right to the compliment,
before their approach was announced by the door-bell, and shortly
afterwards the three gentlemen entered the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam,
who led the way, was about thirty, not handsome, but in person and
address most truly the gentleman. Mr. Darcy looked just as he had been
used to look in Hertfordshire, paid his compliments, with his usual
reserve, to Mrs. Collins; and whatever might be his feelings towards her
friend, met her with every appearance of composure. Elizabeth merely
curtseyed to him, without saying a word.

Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversation directly with the
readiness and ease of a well-bred man, and talked very pleasantly; but
his cousin, after having addressed a slight observation on the house and
garden to Mrs. Collins, sat for some time without speaking to any body.
At length, however, his civility was so far awakened as to enquire of
Elizabeth after the health of her family. She answered him in the usual
way, and after a moment's pause, added,

"My eldest sister has been in town these three months. Have you never
happened to see her there?"

She was perfectly sensible that he never had; but she wished to see
whether he would betray any consciousness of what had passed between the
Bingleys and Jane; and she thought he looked a little confused as he
answered that he had never been so fortunate as to meet Miss Bennet. The
subject was pursued no farther, and the gentlemen soon afterwards went
away.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Sir William returns home after a week, but Elizabeth and Maria stay on with the Collins. Elizabeth has another opportunity to observe the overbearing ways of Lady Catherine. Whenever she hears about any of the parishioners being quarrelsome or complaining, she goes forth to settle their differences, silence their complaints, and scold them into harmony. With the approach of Easter, Mr. Darcy arrives at Rosings with his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam. When they call at the parsonage, Darcy is surprised to find Elizabeth; out of politeness, he asks about her family, and Elizabeth tells him that Jane is in London. Darcy, looking baffled, says that he has not been fortunate enough to meet her there. The visitors soon return to Rosings.


prompt:
Chapter: Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners were very much admired at the parsonage,
and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the pleasure of
their engagements at Rosings. It was some days, however, before they
received any invitation thither, for while there were visitors in the
house, they could not be necessary; and it was not till Easter-day,
almost a week after the gentlemen's arrival, that they were honoured by
such an attention, and then they were merely asked on leaving church to
come there in the evening. For the last week they had seen very little
of either Lady Catherine or her daughter. Colonel Fitzwilliam had called
at the parsonage more than once during the time, but Mr. Darcy they had
only seen at church.

The invitation was accepted of course, and at a proper hour they joined
the party in Lady Catherine's drawing-room. Her ladyship received them
civilly, but it was plain that their company was by no means so
acceptable as when she could get nobody else; and she was, in fact,
almost engrossed by her nephews, speaking to them, especially to Darcy,
much more than to any other person in the room.

Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed really glad to see them; any thing was a
welcome relief to him at Rosings; and Mrs. Collins's pretty friend had
moreover caught his fancy very much. He now seated himself by her, and
talked so agreeably of Kent and Hertfordshire, of travelling and staying
at home, of new books and music, that Elizabeth had never been half so
well entertained in that room before; and they conversed with so much
spirit and flow, as to draw the attention of Lady Catherine herself, as
well as of Mr. Darcy. _His_ eyes had been soon and repeatedly turned
towards them with a look of curiosity; and that her ladyship after a
while shared the feeling, was more openly acknowledged, for she did not
scruple to call out,

"What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking
of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is."

"We are speaking of music, Madam," said he, when no longer able to avoid
a reply.

"Of music! Then pray speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I
must have my share in the conversation, if you are speaking of music.
There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment
of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, I
should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health
had allowed her to apply. I am confident that she would have performed
delightfully. How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?"

Mr. Darcy spoke with affectionate praise of his sister's proficiency.

"I am very glad to hear such a good account of her," said Lady
Catherine; "and pray tell her from me, that she cannot expect to excel,
if she does not practise a great deal."

"I assure you, Madam," he replied, "that she does not need such advice.
She practises very constantly."

"So much the better. It cannot be done too much; and when I next write
to her, I shall charge her not to neglect it on any account. I often
tell young ladies, that no excellence in music is to be acquired,
without constant practice. I have told Miss Bennet several times, that
she will never play really well, unless she practises more; and though
Mrs. Collins has no instrument, she is very welcome, as I have often
told her, to come to Rosings every day, and play on the piano-forte in
Mrs. Jenkinson's room. She would be in nobody's way, you know, in that
part of the house."

Mr. Darcy looked a little ashamed of his aunt's ill breeding, and made
no answer.

When coffee was over, Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded Elizabeth of having
promised to play to him; and she sat down directly to the instrument. He
drew a chair near her. Lady Catherine listened to half a song, and then
talked, as before, to her other nephew; till the latter walked away from
her, and moving with his usual deliberation towards the piano-forte,
stationed himself so as to command a full view of the fair performer's
countenance. Elizabeth saw what he was doing, and at the first
convenient pause, turned to him with an arch smile, and said,

"You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear
me? But I will not be alarmed though your sister _does_ play so well.
There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at
the will of others. My courage always rises with every attempt to
intimidate me."

"I shall not say that you are mistaken," he replied, "because you could
not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you; and I
have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know, that you
find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact
are not your own."

Elizabeth laughed heartily at this picture of herself, and said to
Colonel Fitzwilliam, "Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of
me, and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky
in meeting with a person so well able to expose my real character, in a
part of the world, where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree
of credit. Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous in you to mention
all that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire--and, give me
leave to say, very impolitic too--for it is provoking me to retaliate,
and such things may come out, as will shock your relations to hear."

"I am not afraid of you," said he, smilingly.

"Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of," cried Colonel
Fitzwilliam. "I should like to know how he behaves among strangers."

"You shall hear then--but prepare yourself for something very dreadful.
The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know,
was at a ball--and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced
only four dances! I am sorry to pain you--but so it was. He danced only
four dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain knowledge,
more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner. Mr.
Darcy, you cannot deny the fact."

"I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly
beyond my own party."

"True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball room. Well, Colonel
Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders."

"Perhaps," said Darcy, "I should have judged better, had I sought an
introduction, but I am ill qualified to recommend myself to strangers."

"Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?" said Elizabeth, still
addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Shall we ask him why a man of sense and
education, and who has lived in the world, is ill qualified to recommend
himself to strangers?"

"I can answer your question," said Fitzwilliam, "without applying to
him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble."

"I certainly have not the talent which some people possess," said Darcy,
"of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot
catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their
concerns, as I often see done."

"My fingers," said Elizabeth, "do not move over this instrument in the
masterly manner which I see so many women's do. They have not the same
force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I
have always supposed it to be my own fault--because I would not take the
trouble of practising. It is not that I do not believe _my_ fingers as
capable as any other woman's of superior execution."

Darcy smiled and said, "You are perfectly right. You have employed your
time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you, can
think any thing wanting. We neither of us perform to strangers."

Here they were interrupted by Lady Catherine, who called out to know
what they were talking of. Elizabeth immediately began playing again.
Lady Catherine approached, and, after listening for a few minutes, said
to Darcy,

"Miss Bennet would not play at all amiss, if she practised more, and
could have the advantage of a London master. She has a very good notion
of fingering, though her taste is not equal to Anne's. Anne would have
been a delightful performer, had her health allowed her to learn."

Elizabeth looked at Darcy to see how cordially he assented to his
cousin's praise; but neither at that moment nor at any other could she
discern any symptom of love; and from the whole of his behaviour to Miss
De Bourgh she derived this comfort for Miss Bingley, that he might have
been just as likely to marry _her_, had she been his relation.

Lady Catherine continued her remarks on Elizabeth's performance, mixing
with them many instructions on execution and taste. Elizabeth received
them with all the forbearance of civility; and at the request of the
gentlemen remained at the instrument till her Ladyship's carriage was
ready to take them all home.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Colonel Fitzwilliam is about thirty years old and, though he is not very handsome, his manners make him popular. A week after the arrival of her nephews, Lady Catherine condescends to invite Mr. Collins guests to a party at Rosings on Sunday evening. Colonel Fitzwilliam is attracted to Elizabeth and converses with her animatedly. The mutually engrossed couple draws the attention of Darcy and Lady Catherine. The latter has no qualms about rudely interrupting their conversation, calling out questions to them. Fitzwilliam asks Elizabeth to play the piano, and she agrees; Lady Catherine, however, rudely continues to talk while Elizabeth is performing. Disgusted by his aunts churlish manner, Darcy stands by the piano to pay attention to Elizabeth. During the evening, Elizabeth cannot see any signs of love between Darcy and Miss de Borough.


prompt:
Chapter: Elizabeth was sitting by herself the next morning, and writing to Jane,
while Mrs. Collins and Maria were gone on business into the village,
when she was startled by a ring at the door, the certain signal of a
visitor. As she had heard no carriage, she thought it not unlikely to be
Lady Catherine, and under that apprehension was putting away her
half-finished letter that she might escape all impertinent questions,
when the door opened, and to her very great surprise, Mr. Darcy, and Mr.
Darcy only, entered the room.

He seemed astonished too on finding her alone, and apologised for his
intrusion, by letting her know that he had understood all the ladies to
be within.

They then sat down, and when her enquiries after Rosings were made,
seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. It was absolutely
necessary, therefore, to think of something, and in this emergence
recollecting _when_ she had seen him last in Hertfordshire, and feeling
curious to know what he would say on the subject of their hasty
departure, she observed,

"How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy!
It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see you
all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but the day
before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London."

"Perfectly so--I thank you."

She found that she was to receive no other answer--and, after a short
pause, added,

"I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever
returning to Netherfield again?"

"I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spend
very little of his time there in future. He has many friends, and he is
at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually
increasing."

"If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the
neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we
might possibly get a settled family there. But perhaps Mr. Bingley did
not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as
for his own, and we must expect him to keep or quit it on the same
principle."

"I should not be surprised," said Darcy, "if he were to give it up, as
soon as any eligible purchase offers."

Elizabeth made no answer. She was afraid of talking longer of his
friend; and, having nothing else to say, was now determined to leave the
trouble of finding a subject to him.

He took the hint, and soon began with, "This seems a very comfortable
house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr.
Collins first came to Hunsford."

"I believe she did--and I am sure she could not have bestowed her
kindness on a more grateful object."

"Mr. Collins appears very fortunate in his choice of a wife."

"Yes, indeed; his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of
the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made
him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding--though
I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the wisest
thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a
prudential light, it is certainly a very good match for her."

"It must be very agreeable to her to be settled within so easy a
distance of her own family and friends."

"An easy distance do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles."

"And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day's
journey. Yes, I call it a _very_ easy distance."

"I should never have considered the distance as one of the _advantages_
of the match," cried Elizabeth. "I should never have said Mrs. Collins
was settled _near_ her family."

"It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Any thing beyond
the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far."

As he spoke there was a sort of smile, which Elizabeth fancied she
understood; he must be supposing her to be thinking of Jane and
Netherfield, and she blushed as she answered,

"I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her
family. The far and the near must be relative, and depend on many
varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expence of
travelling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the
case _here_. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not
such a one as will allow of frequent journeys--and I am persuaded my
friend would not call herself _near_ her family under less than _half_
the present distance."

Mr. Darcy drew his chair a little towards her, and said, "_You_ cannot
have a right to such very strong local attachment. _You_ cannot have
been always at Longbourn."

Elizabeth looked surprised. The gentleman experienced some change of
feeling; he drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and,
glancing over it, said, in a colder voice,

"Are you pleased with Kent?"

A short dialogue on the subject of the country ensued, on either side
calm and concise--and soon put an end to by the entrance of Charlotte
and her sister, just returned from their walk. The tete-a-tete surprised
them. Mr. Darcy related the mistake which had occasioned his intruding
on Miss Bennet, and after sitting a few minutes longer without saying
much to any body, went away.

"What can be the meaning of this!" said Charlotte, as soon as he was
gone. "My dear Eliza he must be in love with you, or he would never have
called on us in this familiar way."

But when Elizabeth told of his silence, it did not seem very likely,
even to Charlotte's wishes, to be the case; and after various
conjectures, they could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from
the difficulty of finding any thing to do, which was the more probable
from the time of year. All field sports were over. Within doors there
was Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard table, but gentlemen cannot be
always within doors; and in the nearness of the Parsonage, or the
pleasantness of the walk to it, or of the people who lived in it, the
two cousins found a temptation from this period of walking thither
almost every day. They called at various times of the morning, sometimes
separately, sometimes together, and now and then accompanied by their
aunt. It was plain to them all that Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he
had pleasure in their society, a persuasion which of course recommended
him still more; and Elizabeth was reminded by her own satisfaction in
being with him, as well as by his evident admiration of her, of her
former favourite George Wickham; and though, in comparing them, she saw
there was less captivating softness in Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners,
she believed he might have the best informed mind.

But why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage, it was more difficult
to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there
ten minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak, it
seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice--a sacrifice to
propriety, not a pleasure to himself. He seldom appeared really
animated. Mrs. Collins knew not what to make of him. Colonel
Fitzwilliam's occasionally laughing at his stupidity, proved that he was
generally different, which her own knowledge of him could not have told
her; and as she would have liked to believe this change the effect of
love, and the object of that love, her friend Eliza, she sat herself
seriously to work to find it out.--She watched him whenever they were at
Rosings, and whenever he came to Hunsford; but without much success. He
certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that
look was disputable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she often
doubted whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it
seemed nothing but absence of mind.

She had once or twice suggested to Elizabeth the possibility of his
being partial to her, but Elizabeth always laughed at the idea; and Mrs.
Collins did not think it right to press the subject, from the danger of
raising expectations which might only end in disappointment; for in her
opinion it admitted not of a doubt, that all her friend's dislike would
vanish, if she could suppose him to be in her power.

In her kind schemes for Elizabeth, she sometimes planned her marrying
Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was beyond comparison the pleasantest man; he
certainly admired her, and his situation in life was most eligible; but,
to counterbalance these advantages, Mr. Darcy had considerable patronage
in the church, and his cousin could have none at all.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Since the rest of the party has gone out, the next morning Elizabeth sits alone, writing a letter to Jane. Darcy suddenly walks in. Both of them are at loss for words, but Elizabeth finally asks about the abrupt departure of the Bingleys from Netherfield. Darcy does not say much, but he tells her that Bingley may dispose of Netherfield. Their conversation is interrupted by the entry of Charlotte and her sister. After Darcy departs, Charlotte tells Elizabeth of her notion that Darcy is in love with her. Elizabeth laughs at the suggestion. Darcy and Fitzwilliam begin to often come to the parsonage. Although Darcy usually says little, Charlotte notices that he often looks at Elizabeth.