Chapter: Mr. Bennet's property consisted almost entirely in an estate of two
thousand a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, was entailed in
default of heirs male, on a distant relation; and their mother's
fortune, though ample for her situation in life, could but ill supply
the deficiency of his. Her father had been an attorney in Meryton, and
had left her four thousand pounds.

She had a sister married to a Mr. Philips, who had been a clerk to their
father, and succeeded him in the business, and a brother settled in
London in a respectable line of trade.

The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a most
convenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually tempted
thither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to their aunt and
to a milliner's shop just over the way. The two youngest of the family,
Catherine and Lydia, were particularly frequent in these attentions;
their minds were more vacant than their sisters', and when nothing
better offered, a walk to Meryton was necessary to amuse their morning
hours and furnish conversation for the evening; and however bare of news
the country in general might be, they always contrived to learn some
from their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both with
news and happiness by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the
neighbourhood; it was to remain the whole winter, and Meryton was the
head quarters.

Their visits to Mrs. Philips were now productive of the most interesting
intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge of the
officers' names and connections. Their lodgings were not long a secret,
and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Mr. Philips
visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a source of felicity
unknown before. They could talk of nothing but officers; and Mr.
Bingley's large fortune, the mention of which gave animation to their
mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of
an ensign.

After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Mr.
Bennet coolly observed,

"From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be two
of the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it some time, but
I am now convinced."

Catherine was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Lydia, with perfect
indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Carter, and
her hope of seeing him in the course of the day, as he was going the
next morning to London.

"I am astonished, my dear," said Mrs. Bennet, "that you should be so
ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly
of any body's children, it should not be of my own however."

"If my children are silly I must hope to be always sensible of it."

"Yes--but as it happens, they are all of them very clever."

"This is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not agree. I
had hoped that our sentiments coincided in every particular, but I must
so far differ from you as to think our two youngest daughters uncommonly
foolish."

"My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect such girls to have the sense of
their father and mother.--When they get to our age I dare say they will
not think about officers any more than we do. I remember the time when I
liked a red coat myself very well--and indeed so I do still at my heart;
and if a smart young colonel, with five or six thousand a year, should
want one of my girls, I shall not say nay to him; and I thought Colonel
Forster looked very becoming the other night at Sir William's in his
regimentals."

"Mama," cried Lydia, "my aunt says that Colonel Forster and Captain
Carter do not go so often to Miss Watson's as they did when they first
came; she sees them now very often standing in Clarke's library."

Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by the entrance of the footman with a
note for Miss Bennet; it came from Netherfield, and the servant waited
for an answer. Mrs. Bennet's eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she was
eagerly calling out, while her daughter read,

"Well, Jane, who is it from? what is it about? what does he say? Well,
Jane, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love."

"It is from Miss Bingley," said Jane, and then read it aloud.

     "My dear Friend,

     "If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa and
     me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our
     lives, for a whole day's tete-a-tete between two women can never
     end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can on the receipt of
     this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers.
     Yours ever,

     "CAROLINE BINGLEY."

"With the officers!" cried Lydia. "I wonder my aunt did not tell us of
_that_."

"Dining out," said Mrs. Bennet, "that is very unlucky."

"Can I have the carriage?" said Jane.

"No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems likely to
rain; and then you must stay all night."

"That would be a good scheme," said Elizabeth, "if you were sure that
they would not offer to send her home."

"Oh! but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley's chaise to go to Meryton;
and the Hursts have no horses to theirs."

"I had much rather go in the coach."

"But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, I am sure. They are
wanted in the farm, Mr. Bennet, are not they?"

"They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get them."

"But if you have got them to-day," said Elizabeth, "my mother's purpose
will be answered."

She did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment that the horses
were engaged. Jane was therefore obliged to go on horseback, and her
mother attended her to the door with many cheerful prognostics of a bad
day. Her hopes were answered; Jane had not been gone long before it
rained hard. Her sisters were uneasy for her, but her mother was
delighted. The rain continued the whole evening without intermission;
Jane certainly could not come back.

"This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!" said Mrs. Bennet, more than
once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own. Till the next
morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her
contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from Netherfield
brought the following note for Elizabeth:

     "My dearest Lizzy,

     "I FIND myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be
     imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will
     not hear of my returning home till I am better. They insist also on
     my seeing Mr. Jones--therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear
     of his having been to me--and excepting a sore-throat and head-ache
     there is not much the matter with me.

     "Yours, &c."

"Well, my dear," said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note
aloud, "if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness, if she
should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of
Mr. Bingley, and under your orders."

"Oh! I am not at all afraid of her dying. People do not die of little
trifling colds. She will be taken good care of. As long as she stays
there, it is all very well. I would go and see her, if I could have the
carriage."

Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her, though
the carriage was not to be had; and as she was no horse-woman, walking
was her only alternative. She declared her resolution.

"How can you be so silly," cried her mother, "as to think of such a
thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when you get
there."

"I shall be very fit to see Jane--which is all I want."

"Is this a hint to me, Lizzy," said her father, "to send for the
horses?"

"No, indeed. I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is nothing,
when one has a motive; only three miles. I shall be back by dinner."

"I admire the activity of your benevolence," observed Mary, "but every
impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion,
exertion should always be in proportion to what is required."

"We will go as far as Meryton with you," said Catherine and
Lydia.--Elizabeth accepted their company, and the three young ladies set
off together.

"If we make haste," said Lydia, as they walked along, "perhaps we may
see something of Captain Carter before he goes."

In Meryton they parted; the two youngest repaired to the lodgings of one
of the officers' wives, and Elizabeth continued her walk alone, crossing
field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing
over puddles with impatient activity, and finding herself at last within
view of the house, with weary ancles, dirty stockings, and a face
glowing with the warmth of exercise.

She was shewn into the breakfast-parlour, where all but Jane were
assembled, and where her appearance created a great deal of
surprise.--That she should have walked three miles so early in the day,
in such dirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to Mrs.
Hurst and Miss Bingley; and Elizabeth was convinced that they held her
in contempt for it. She was received, however, very politely by them;
and in their brother's manners there was something better than
politeness; there was good humour and kindness.--Mr. Darcy said very
little, and Mr. Hurst nothing at all. The former was divided between
admiration of the brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion,
and doubt as to the occasion's justifying her coming so far alone. The
latter was thinking only of his breakfast.

Her enquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered. Miss
Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish and not well
enough to leave her room. Elizabeth was glad to be taken to her
immediately; and Jane, who had only been withheld by the fear of giving
alarm or inconvenience, from expressing in her note how much she longed
for such a visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was not equal,
however, to much conversation, and when Miss Bingley left them together,
could attempt little beside expressions of gratitude for the
extraordinary kindness she was treated with. Elizabeth silently attended
her.

When breakfast was over, they were joined by the sisters; and Elizabeth
began to like them herself, when she saw how much affection and
solicitude they shewed for Jane. The apothecary came, and having
examined his patient, said, as might be supposed, that she had caught a
violent cold, and that they must endeavour to get the better of it;
advised her to return to bed, and promised her some draughts. The advice
was followed readily, for the feverish symptoms increased, and her head
ached acutely. Elizabeth did not quit her room for a moment, nor were
the other ladies often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had in fact
nothing to do elsewhere.

When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that she must go; and very
unwillingly said so. Miss Bingley offered her the carriage, and she only
wanted a little pressing to accept it, when Jane testified such concern
in parting with her, that Miss Bingley was obliged to convert the offer
of the chaise into an invitation to remain at Netherfield for the
present. Elizabeth most thankfully consented, and a servant was
dispatched to Longbourn to acquaint the family with her stay, and bring
back a supply of clothes.





At five o'clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half past six
Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. To the civil enquiries which then
poured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of distinguishing the
much superior solicitude of Mr. Bingley's, she could not make a very
favourable answer. Jane was by no means better. The sisters, on hearing
this, repeated three or four times how much they were grieved, how
shocking it was to have a bad cold, and how excessively they disliked
being ill themselves; and then thought no more of the matter: and their
indifference towards Jane when not immediately before them, restored
Elizabeth to the enjoyment of all her original dislike.

Their brother, indeed, was the only one of the party whom she could
regard with any complacency. His anxiety for Jane was evident, and his
attentions to herself most pleasing, and they prevented her feeling
herself so much an intruder as she believed she was considered by the
others. She had very little notice from any but him. Miss Bingley was
engrossed by Mr. Darcy, her sister scarcely less so; and as for Mr.
Hurst, by whom Elizabeth sat, he was an indolent man, who lived only to
eat, drink, and play at cards, who when he found her prefer a plain dish
to a ragout, had nothing to say to her.

When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss Bingley
began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her manners were
pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence;
she had no conversation, no style, no taste, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst
thought the same, and added,

"She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent
walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really
looked almost wild."

"She did indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very
nonsensical to come at all! Why must _she_ be scampering about the
country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair so untidy, so blowsy!"

"Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep
in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to
hide it, not doing its office."

"Your picture may be very exact, Louisa," said Bingley; "but this was
all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably
well, when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat
quite escaped my notice."

"_You_ observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure," said Miss Bingley; "and I am
inclined to think that you would not wish to see _your sister_ make such
an exhibition."

"Certainly not."

"To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is,
above her ancles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! what could she mean by
it? It seems to me to shew an abominable sort of conceited independence,
a most country town indifference to decorum."

"It shews an affection for her sister that is very pleasing," said
Bingley.

"I am afraid, Mr. Darcy," observed Miss Bingley, in a half whisper,
"that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine
eyes."

"Not at all," he replied; "they were brightened by the exercise."--A
short pause followed this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again.

"I have an excessive regard for Jane Bennet, she is really a very sweet
girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such
a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is no
chance of it."

"I think I have heard you say, that their uncle is an attorney in
Meryton."

"Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside."

"That is capital," added her sister, and they both laughed heartily.

"If they had uncles enough to fill _all_ Cheapside," cried Bingley, "it
would not make them one jot less agreeable."

"But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any
consideration in the world," replied Darcy.

To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisters gave it their
hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of
their dear friend's vulgar relations.

With a renewal of tenderness, however, they repaired to her room on
leaving the dining-parlour, and sat with her till summoned to coffee.
She was still very poorly, and Elizabeth would not quit her at all, till
late in the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her asleep, and
when it appeared to her rather right than pleasant that she should go
down stairs herself. On entering the drawing-room she found the whole
party at loo, and was immediately invited to join them; but suspecting
them to be playing high she declined it, and making her sister the
excuse, said she would amuse herself for the short time she could stay
below with a book. Mr. Hurst looked at her with astonishment.

"Do you prefer reading to cards?" said he; "that is rather singular."

"Miss Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, "despises cards. She is a great
reader and has no pleasure in anything else."

"I deserve neither such praise nor such censure," cried Elizabeth; "I am
_not_ a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things."

"In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure," said Bingley; "and
I hope it will soon be increased by seeing her quite well."

Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards a table
where a few books were lying. He immediately offered to fetch her
others; all that his library afforded.

"And I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own
credit; but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have more
than I ever look into."

Elizabeth assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with those
in the room.

"I am astonished," said Miss Bingley, "that my father should have left
so small a collection of books.--What a delightful library you have at
Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!"

"It ought to be good," he replied, "it has been the work of many
generations."

"And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying
books."

"I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as
these."

"Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of
that noble place. Charles, when you build _your_ house, I wish it may be
half as delightful as Pemberley."

"I wish it may."

"But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that
neighbourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a
finer county in England than Derbyshire."

"With all my heart; I will buy Pemberley itself if Darcy will sell it."

"I am talking of possibilities, Charles."

"Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get
Pemberley by purchase than by imitation."

Elizabeth was so much caught by what passed, as to leave her very little
attention for her book; and soon laying it wholly aside, she drew near
the card-table, and stationed herself between Mr. Bingley and his eldest
sister, to observe the game.

"Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?" said Miss Bingley; "will
she be as tall as I am?"

"I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet's height, or
rather taller."

"How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me
so much. Such a countenance, such manners! and so extremely
accomplished for her age! Her performance on the piano-forte is
exquisite."

"It is amazing to me," said Bingley, "how young ladies can have patience
to be so very accomplished, as they all are."

"All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?"

"Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover skreens and net
purses. I scarcely know any one who cannot do all this, and I am sure I
never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being
informed that she was very accomplished."

"Your list of the common extent of accomplishments," said Darcy, "has
too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no
otherwise than by netting a purse, or covering a skreen. But I am very
far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I
cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen, in the whole range of my
acquaintance, that are really accomplished."

"Nor I, I am sure," said Miss Bingley.

"Then," observed Elizabeth, "you must comprehend a great deal in your
idea of an accomplished woman."

"Yes; I do comprehend a great deal in it."

"Oh! certainly," cried his faithful assistant, "no one can be really
esteemed accomplished, who does not greatly surpass what is usually met
with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing,
dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all
this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of
walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word
will be but half deserved."

"All this she must possess," added Darcy, "and to all this she must yet
add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by
extensive reading."

"I am no longer surprised at your knowing _only_ six accomplished women.
I rather wonder now at your knowing _any_."

"Are you so severe upon your own sex, as to doubt the possibility of all
this?"

"_I_ never saw such a woman. _I_ never saw such capacity, and taste, and
application, and elegance, as you describe, united."

Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the injustice of her
implied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many women who
answered this description, when Mr. Hurst called them to order, with
bitter complaints of their inattention to what was going forward. As all
conversation was thereby at an end, Elizabeth soon afterwards left the
room.

"Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on her, "is
one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other
sex, by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I dare say, it
succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art."

"Undoubtedly," replied Darcy, to whom this remark was chiefly addressed,
"there is meanness in _all_ the arts which ladies sometimes condescend
to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is
despicable."

Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as to
continue the subject.

Elizabeth joined them again only to say that her sister was worse, and
that she could not leave her. Bingley urged Mr. Jones's being sent for
immediately; while his sisters, convinced that no country advice could
be of any service, recommended an express to town for one of the most
eminent physicians. This, she would not hear of; but she was not so
unwilling to comply with their brother's proposal; and it was settled
that Mr. Jones should be sent for early in the morning, if Miss Bennet
were not decidedly better. Bingley was quite uncomfortable; his sisters
declared that they were miserable. They solaced their wretchedness,
however, by duets after supper, while he could find no better relief to
his feelings than by giving his housekeeper directions that every
possible attention might be paid to the sick lady and her sister.





Elizabeth passed the chief of the night in her sister's room, and in the
morning had the pleasure of being able to send a tolerable answer to the
enquiries which she very early received from Mr. Bingley by a housemaid,
and some time afterwards from the two elegant ladies who waited on his
sisters. In spite of this amendment, however, she requested to have a
note sent to Longbourn, desiring her mother to visit Jane, and form her
own judgment of her situation. The note was immediately dispatched, and
its contents as quickly complied with. Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by her
two youngest girls, reached Netherfield soon after the family breakfast.

Had she found Jane in any apparent danger, Mrs. Bennet would have been
very miserable; but being satisfied on seeing her that her illness was
not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately, as her
restoration to health would probably remove her from Netherfield. She
would not listen therefore to her daughter's proposal of being carried
home; neither did the apothecary, who arrived about the same time, think
it at all advisable. After sitting a little while with Jane, on Miss
Bingley's appearance and invitation, the mother and three daughters all
attended her into the breakfast parlour. Bingley met them with hopes
that Mrs. Bennet had not found Miss Bennet worse than she expected.

"Indeed I have, Sir," was her answer. "She is a great deal too ill to be
moved. Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass
a little longer on your kindness."

"Removed!" cried Bingley. "It must not be thought of. My sister, I am
sure, will not hear of her removal."

"You may depend upon it, Madam," said Miss Bingley, with cold civility,
"that Miss Bennet shall receive every possible attention while she
remains with us."

Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments.

"I am sure," she added, "if it was not for such good friends I do not
know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers a
vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which is
always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest
temper I ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are nothing to
_her_. You have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and a charming prospect
over that gravel walk. I do not know a place in the country that is
equal to Netherfield. You will not think of quitting it in a hurry I
hope, though you have but a short lease."

"Whatever I do is done in a hurry," replied he; "and therefore if I
should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five
minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here."

"That is exactly what I should have supposed of you," said Elizabeth.

"You begin to comprehend me, do you?" cried he, turning towards her.

"Oh! yes--I understand you perfectly."

"I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen
through I am afraid is pitiful."

"That is as it happens. It does not necessarily follow that a deep,
intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours."

"Lizzy," cried her mother, "remember where you are, and do not run on in
the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home."

"I did not know before," continued Bingley immediately, "that you were a
studier of character. It must be an amusing study."

"Yes; but intricate characters are the _most_ amusing. They have at
least that advantage."

"The country," said Darcy, "can in general supply but few subjects for
such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined
and unvarying society."

"But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be
observed in them for ever."

"Yes, indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner of mentioning a
country neighbourhood. "I assure you there is quite as much of _that_
going on in the country as in town."

Every body was surprised; and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment,
turned silently away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had gained a complete
victory over him, continued her triumph.

"I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country for
my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal
pleasanter, is not it, Mr. Bingley?"

"When I am in the country," he replied, "I never wish to leave it; and
when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their
advantages, and I can be equally happy in either."

"Aye--that is because you have the right disposition. But that
gentleman," looking at Darcy, "seemed to think the country was nothing
at all."

"Indeed, Mama, you are mistaken," said Elizabeth, blushing for her
mother. "You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there were not
such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in town, which
you must acknowledge to be true."

"Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not meeting with
many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few
neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four and twenty families."

Nothing but concern for Elizabeth could enable Bingley to keep his
countenance. His sister was less delicate, and directed her eye towards
Mr. Darcy with a very expressive smile. Elizabeth, for the sake of
saying something that might turn her mother's thoughts, now asked her if
Charlotte Lucas had been at Longbourn since _her_ coming away.

"Yes, she called yesterday with her father. What an agreeable man Sir
William is, Mr. Bingley--is not he? so much the man of fashion! so
genteel and so easy!--He has always something to say to every
body.--_That_ is my idea of good breeding; and those persons who fancy
themselves very important and never open their mouths, quite mistake the
matter."

"Did Charlotte dine with you?"

"No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince pies. For
my part, Mr. Bingley, _I_ always keep servants that can do their own
work; _my_ daughters are brought up differently. But every body is to
judge for themselves, and the Lucases are very good sort of girls, I
assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that _I_ think
Charlotte so _very_ plain--but then she is our particular friend."

"She seems a very pleasant young woman," said Bingley.

"Oh! dear, yes;--but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself
has often said so, and envied me Jane's beauty. I do not like to boast
of my own child, but to be sure, Jane--one does not often see any body
better looking. It is what every body says. I do not trust my own
partiality. When she was only fifteen, there was a gentleman at my
brother Gardiner's in town, so much in love with her, that my
sister-in-law was sure he would make her an offer before we came away.
But however he did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he
wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were."

"And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently. "There has
been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first
discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!"

"I have been used to consider poetry as the _food_ of love," said Darcy.

"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Every thing nourishes what is
strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I
am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away."

Darcy only smiled; and the general pause which ensued made Elizabeth
tremble lest her mother should be exposing herself again. She longed to
speak, but could think of nothing to say; and after a short silence Mrs.
Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr. Bingley for his kindness to
Jane, with an apology for troubling him also with Lizzy. Mr. Bingley was
unaffectedly civil in his answer, and forced his younger sister to be
civil also, and say what the occasion required. She performed her part
indeed without much graciousness, but Mrs. Bennet was satisfied, and
soon afterwards ordered her carriage. Upon this signal, the youngest of
her daughters put herself forward. The two girls had been whispering to
each other during the whole visit, and the result of it was, that the
youngest should tax Mr. Bingley with having promised on his first coming
into the country to give a ball at Netherfield.

Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen, with a fine complexion
and good-humoured countenance; a favourite with her mother, whose
affection had brought her into public at an early age. She had high
animal spirits, and a sort of natural self-consequence, which the
attentions of the officers, to whom her uncle's good dinners and her own
easy manners recommended her, had increased into assurance. She was very
equal therefore to address Mr. Bingley on the subject of the ball, and
abruptly reminded him of his promise; adding, that it would be the most
shameful thing in the world if he did not keep it. His answer to this
sudden attack was delightful to their mother's ear.

"I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement; and when
your sister is recovered, you shall if you please name the very day of
the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing while she is ill."

Lydia declared herself satisfied. "Oh! yes--it would be much better to
wait till Jane was well, and by that time most likely Captain Carter
would be at Meryton again. And when you have given _your_ ball," she
added, "I shall insist on their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel
Forster it will be quite a shame if he does not."

Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Elizabeth returned
instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her relations' behaviour to the
remarks of the two ladies and Mr. Darcy; the latter of whom, however,
could not be prevailed on to join in their censure of _her_, in spite of
all Miss Bingley's witticisms on _fine eyes_.





The day passed much as the day before had done. Mrs. Hurst and Miss
Bingley had spent some hours of the morning with the invalid, who
continued, though slowly, to mend; and in the evening Elizabeth joined
their party in the drawing-room. The loo table, however, did not appear.
Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching
the progress of his letter, and repeatedly calling off his attention by
messages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and
Mrs. Hurst was observing their game.

Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused in
attending to what passed between Darcy and his companion. The perpetual
commendations of the lady either on his hand-writing, or on the evenness
of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern
with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and was
exactly in unison with her opinion of each.

"How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!"

He made no answer.

"You write uncommonly fast."

"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly."

"How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of the
year! Letters of business too! How odious I should think them!"

"It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of to yours."

"Pray tell your sister that I long to see her."

"I have already told her so once, by your desire."

"I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend
pens remarkably well."

"Thank you--but I always mend my own."

"How can you contrive to write so even?"

He was silent.

"Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp,
and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful
little design for a table, and I think it infinitely superior to Miss
Grantley's."

"Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again?--At
present I have not room to do them justice."

"Oh! it is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do you
always write such charming long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?"

"They are generally long; but whether always charming, it is not for me
to determine."

"It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter, with
ease, cannot write ill."

"That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline," cried her
brother--"because he does _not_ write with ease. He studies too much for
words of four syllables.--Do not you, Darcy?"

"My style of writing is very different from yours."

"Oh!" cried Miss Bingley, "Charles writes in the most careless way
imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest."

"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them--by which
means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents."

"Your humility, Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth, "must disarm reproof."

"Nothing is more deceitful," said Darcy, "than the appearance of
humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an
indirect boast."

"And which of the two do you call _my_ little recent piece of modesty?"

"The indirect boast;--for you are really proud of your defects in
writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of
thought and carelessness of execution, which if not estimable, you think
at least highly interesting. The power of doing any thing with
quickness is always much prized by the possessor, and often without any
attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Mrs.
Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved on quitting Netherfield
you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of
panegyric, of compliment to yourself--and yet what is there so very
laudable in a precipitance which must leave very necessary business
undone, and can be of no real advantage to yourself or any one else?"

"Nay," cried Bingley, "this is too much, to remember at night all the
foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour, I
believed what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this
moment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of needless
precipitance merely to shew off before the ladies."

"I dare say you believed it; but I am by no means convinced that you
would be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be quite as
dependant on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were
mounting your horse, a friend were to say, 'Bingley, you had better stay
till next week,' you would probably do it, you would probably not
go--and, at another word, might stay a month."

"You have only proved by this," cried Elizabeth, "that Mr. Bingley did
not do justice to his own disposition. You have shewn him off now much
more than he did himself."

"I am exceedingly gratified," said Bingley, "by your converting what my
friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I am
afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no means
intend; for he would certainly think the better of me, if under such a
circumstance I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I
could."

"Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intention
as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?"

"Upon my word I cannot exactly explain the matter, Darcy must speak for
himself."

"You expect me to account for opinions which you chuse to call mine, but
which I have never acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, to stand
according to your representation, you must remember, Miss Bennet, that
the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and the
delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering one
argument in favour of its propriety."

"To yield readily--easily--to the _persuasion_ of a friend is no merit
with you."

"To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of
either."

"You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of
friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often make
one readily yield to a request, without waiting for arguments to reason
one into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case as you have
supposed about Mr. Bingley. We may as well wait, perhaps, till the
circumstance occurs, before we discuss the discretion of his behaviour
thereupon. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and friend,
where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no
very great moment, should you think ill of that person for complying
with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?"

"Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to arrange
with rather more precision the degree of importance which is to
appertain to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsisting
between the parties?"

"By all means," cried Bingley; "let us hear all the particulars, not
forgetting their comparative height and size; for that will have more
weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. I assure
you that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with
myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not
know a more aweful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in
particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening
when he has nothing to do."

Mr. Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thought she could perceive that he was
rather offended; and therefore checked her laugh. Miss Bingley warmly
resented the indignity he had received, in an expostulation with her
brother for talking such nonsense.

"I see your design, Bingley," said his friend.--"You dislike an
argument, and want to silence this."

"Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and Miss
Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very
thankful; and then you may say whatever you like of me."

"What you ask," said Elizabeth, "is no sacrifice on my side; and Mr.
Darcy had much better finish his letter."

Mr. Darcy took her advice, and did finish his letter.

When that business was over, he applied to Miss Bingley and Elizabeth
for the indulgence of some music. Miss Bingley moved with alacrity to
the piano-forte, and after a polite request that Elizabeth would lead
the way, which the other as politely and more earnestly negatived, she
seated herself.

Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and while they were thus employed
Elizabeth could not help observing as she turned over some music books
that lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr. Darcy's eyes were fixed
on her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of
admiration to so great a man; and yet that he should look at her because
he disliked her, was still more strange. She could only imagine however
at last, that she drew his notice because there was a something about
her more wrong and reprehensible, according to his ideas of right, than
in any other person present. The supposition did not pain her. She liked
him too little to care for his approbation.

After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by a
lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing near
Elizabeth, said to her--

"Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an
opportunity of dancing a reel?"

She smiled, but made no answer. He repeated the question, with some
surprise at her silence.

"Oh!" said she, "I heard you before; but I could not immediately
determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say 'Yes,'
that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always
delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of
their premeditated contempt. I have therefore made up my mind to tell
you, that I do not want to dance a reel at all--and now despise me if
you dare."

"Indeed I do not dare."

Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his
gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her
manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody; and Darcy had
never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really
believed, that were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he
should be in some danger.

Miss Bingley saw, or suspected enough to be jealous; and her great
anxiety for the recovery of her dear friend Jane, received some
assistance from her desire of getting rid of Elizabeth.

She often tried to provoke Darcy into disliking her guest, by talking of
their supposed marriage, and planning his happiness in such an alliance.

"I hope," said she, as they were walking together in the shrubbery the
next day, "you will give your mother-in-law a few hints, when this
desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue;
and if you can compass it, do cure the younger girls of running after
the officers.--And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavour to
check that little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence,
which your lady possesses."

"Have you any thing else to propose for my domestic felicity?"

"Oh! yes.--Do let the portraits of your uncle and aunt Philips be
placed in the gallery at Pemberley. Put them next to your great uncle
the judge. They are in the same profession, you know; only in different
lines. As for your Elizabeth's picture, you must not attempt to have it
taken, for what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?"

"It would not be easy, indeed, to catch their expression, but their
colour and shape, and the eye-lashes, so remarkably fine, might be
copied."

At that moment they were met from another walk, by Mrs. Hurst and
Elizabeth herself.

"I did not know that you intended to walk," said Miss Bingley, in some
confusion, lest they had been overheard.

"You used us abominably ill," answered Mrs. Hurst, "in running away
without telling us that you were coming out."

Then taking the disengaged arm of Mr. Darcy, she left Elizabeth to walk
by herself. The path just admitted three. Mr. Darcy felt their rudeness
and immediately said,--

"This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into the
avenue."

But Elizabeth, who had not the least inclination to remain with them,
laughingly answered,

"No, no; stay where you are.--You are charmingly group'd, and appear to
uncommon advantage. The picturesque would be spoilt by admitting a
fourth. Good bye."

She then ran gaily off, rejoicing as she rambled about, in the hope of
being at home again in a day or two. Jane was already so much recovered
as to intend leaving her room for a couple of hours that evening.





When the ladies removed after dinner, Elizabeth ran up to her sister,
and seeing her well guarded from cold, attended her into the
drawing-room; where she was welcomed by her two friends with many
professions of pleasure; and Elizabeth had never seen them so agreeable
as they were during the hour which passed before the gentlemen appeared.
Their powers of conversation were considerable. They could describe an
entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laugh
at their acquaintance with spirit.

But when the gentlemen entered, Jane was no longer the first object.
Miss Bingley's eyes were instantly turned towards Darcy, and she had
something to say to him before he had advanced many steps. He addressed
himself directly to Miss Bennet, with a polite congratulation; Mr. Hurst
also made her a slight bow, and said he was "very glad;" but diffuseness
and warmth remained for Bingley's salutation. He was full of joy and
attention. The first half hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest she
should suffer from the change of room; and she removed at his desire to
the other side of the fire-place, that she might be farther from the
door. He then sat down by her, and talked scarcely to any one else.
Elizabeth, at work in the opposite corner, saw it all with great
delight.

When tea was over, Mr. Hurst reminded his sister-in-law of the
card-table--but in vain. She had obtained private intelligence that Mr.
Darcy did not wish for cards; and Mr. Hurst soon found even his open
petition rejected. She assured him that no one intended to play, and the
silence of the whole party on the subject, seemed to justify her. Mr.
Hurst had therefore nothing to do, but to stretch himself on one of the
sophas and go to sleep. Darcy took up a book; Miss Bingley did the same;
and Mrs. Hurst, principally occupied in playing with her bracelets and
rings, joined now and then in her brother's conversation with Miss
Bennet.

Miss Bingley's attention was quite as much engaged in watching Mr.
Darcy's progress through _his_ book, as in reading her own; and she was
perpetually either making some inquiry, or looking at his page. She
could not win him, however, to any conversation; he merely answered her
question, and read on. At length, quite exhausted by the attempt to be
amused with her own book, which she had only chosen because it was the
second volume of his, she gave a great yawn and said, "How pleasant it
is to spend an evening in this way! I declare after all there is no
enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a
book!--When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not
an excellent library."

No one made any reply. She then yawned again, threw aside her book, and
cast her eyes round the room in quest of some amusement; when hearing
her brother mentioning a ball to Miss Bennet, she turned suddenly
towards him and said,

"By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at
Netherfield?--I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult
the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there are not
some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a
pleasure."

"If you mean Darcy," cried her brother, "he may go to bed, if he chuses,
before it begins--but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing; and
as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough I shall send round my
cards."

"I should like balls infinitely better," she replied, "if they were
carried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferably
tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much
more rational if conversation instead of dancing made the order of the
day."

"Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say, but it would not be
near so much like a ball."

Miss Bingley made no answer; and soon afterwards got up and walked about
the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well;--but Darcy, at
whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious. In the desperation
of her feelings she resolved on one effort more; and, turning to
Elizabeth, said,

"Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a
turn about the room.--I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting
so long in one attitude."

Elizabeth was surprised, but agreed to it immediately. Miss Bingley
succeeded no less in the real object of her civility; Mr. Darcy looked
up. He was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as
Elizabeth herself could be, and unconsciously closed his book. He was
directly invited to join their party, but he declined it, observing,
that he could imagine but two motives for their chusing to walk up and
down the room together, with either of which motives his joining them
would interfere. "What could he mean? she was dying to know what could
be his meaning"--and asked Elizabeth whether she could at all understand
him?

"Not at all," was her answer; "but depend upon it, he means to be severe
on us, and our surest way of disappointing him, will be to ask nothing
about it."

Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disappointing Mr. Darcy in any
thing, and persevered therefore in requiring an explanation of his two
motives.

"I have not the smallest objection to explaining them," said he, as soon
as she allowed him to speak. "You either chuse this method of passing
the evening because you are in each other's confidence and have secret
affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures
appear to the greatest advantage in walking;--if the first, I should be
completely in your way;--and if the second, I can admire you much better
as I sit by the fire."

"Oh! shocking!" cried Miss Bingley. "I never heard any thing so
abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?"

"Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination," said Elizabeth. "We
can all plague and punish one another. Teaze him--laugh at
him.--Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done."

"But upon my honour I do _not_. I do assure you that my intimacy has not
yet taught me _that_. Teaze calmness of temper and presence of mind! No,
no--I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose
ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject. Mr.
Darcy may hug himself."

"Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!" cried Elizabeth. "That is an
uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would
be a great loss to _me_ to have many such acquaintance. I dearly love a
laugh."

"Miss Bingley," said he, "has given me credit for more than can be. The
wisest and the best of men, nay, the wisest and best of their actions,
may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a
joke."

"Certainly," replied Elizabeth--"there are such people, but I hope I am
not one of _them_. I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies
and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies _do_ divert me, I own, and I
laugh at them whenever I can.--But these, I suppose, are precisely what
you are without."

"Perhaps that is not possible for any one. But it has been the study of
my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong
understanding to ridicule."

"Such as vanity and pride."

"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride--where there is a real
superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation."

Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile.

"Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume," said Miss
Bingley;--"and pray what is the result?"

"I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it
himself without disguise."

"No"--said Darcy, "I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough,
but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch
for.--It is I believe too little yielding--certainly too little for the
convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of
others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My
feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper
would perhaps be called resentful.--My good opinion once lost is lost
for ever."

"_That_ is a failing indeed!"--cried Elizabeth. "Implacable resentment
_is_ a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well.--I
really cannot _laugh_ at it. You are safe from me."

"There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular
evil, a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome."

"And _your_ defect is a propensity to hate every body."

"And yours," he replied with a smile, "is wilfully to misunderstand
them."

"Do let us have a little music,"--cried Miss Bingley, tired of a
conversation in which she had no share.--"Louisa, you will not mind my
waking Mr. Hurst."

Her sister made not the smallest objection, and the piano-forte was
opened, and Darcy, after a few moments recollection, was not sorry for
it. He began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention.





In consequence of an agreement between the sisters, Elizabeth wrote the
next morning to her mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent for
them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet, who had calculated on
her daughters remaining at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which
would exactly finish Jane's week, could not bring herself to receive
them with pleasure before. Her answer, therefore, was not propitious, at
least not to Elizabeth's wishes, for she was impatient to get home. Mrs.
Bennet sent them word that they could not possibly have the carriage
before Tuesday; and in her postscript it was added, that if Mr. Bingley
and his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them very
well.--Against staying longer, however, Elizabeth was positively
resolved--nor did she much expect it would be asked; and fearful, on the
contrary, as being considered as intruding themselves needlessly long,
she urged Jane to borrow Mr. Bingley's carriage immediately, and at
length it was settled that their original design of leaving Netherfield
that morning should be mentioned, and the request made.

The communication excited many professions of concern; and enough was
said of wishing them to stay at least till the following day to work on
Jane; and till the morrow, their going was deferred. Miss Bingley was
then sorry that she had proposed the delay, for her jealousy and dislike
of one sister much exceeded her affection for the other.

The master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were to go so
soon, and repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be
safe for her--that she was not enough recovered; but Jane was firm where
she felt herself to be right.

To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence--Elizabeth had been at
Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked--and Miss
Bingley was uncivil to _her_, and more teazing than usual to himself.
He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration
should _now_ escape him, nothing that could elevate her with the hope of
influencing his felicity; sensible that if such an idea had been
suggested, his behaviour during the last day must have material weight
in confirming or crushing it. Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke
ten words to her through the whole of Saturday, and though they were at
one time left by themselves for half an hour, he adhered most
conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her.

On Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to almost
all, took place. Miss Bingley's civility to Elizabeth increased at last
very rapidly, as well as her affection for Jane; and when they parted,
after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give her to
see her either at Longbourn or Netherfield, and embracing her most
tenderly, she even shook hands with the former.--Elizabeth took leave of
the whole party in the liveliest spirits.

They were not welcomed home very cordially by their mother. Mrs. Bennet
wondered at their coming, and thought them very wrong to give so much
trouble, and was sure Jane would have caught cold again.--But their
father, though very laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was really
glad to see them; he had felt their importance in the family circle. The
evening conversation, when they were all assembled, had lost much of its
animation, and almost all its sense, by the absence of Jane and
Elizabeth.

They found Mary, as usual, deep in the study of thorough bass and human
nature; and had some new extracts to admire, and some new observations
of thread-bare morality to listen to. Catherine and Lydia had
information for them of a different sort. Much had been done, and much
had been said in the regiment since the preceding Wednesday; several of
the officers had dined lately with their uncle, a private had been
flogged, and it had actually been hinted that Colonel Forster was going
to be married.





"I hope, my dear," said Mr. Bennet to his wife, as they were at
breakfast the next morning, "that you have ordered a good dinner to-day,
because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party."

"Who do you mean, my dear? I know of nobody that is coming I am sure,
unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to call in, and I hope _my_ dinners
are good enough for her. I do not believe she often sees such at home."

"The person of whom I speak, is a gentleman and a stranger." Mrs.
Bennet's eyes sparkled.--"A gentleman and a stranger! It is Mr. Bingley
I am sure. Why Jane--you never dropt a word of this; you sly thing!
Well, I am sure I shall be extremely glad to see Mr. Bingley.--But--good
lord! how unlucky! there is not a bit of fish to be got to-day. Lydia,
my love, ring the bell. I must speak to Hill, this moment."

"It is _not_ Mr. Bingley," said her husband; "it is a person whom I
never saw in the whole course of my life."

This roused a general astonishment; and he had the pleasure of being
eagerly questioned by his wife and five daughters at once.

After amusing himself some time with their curiosity, he thus explained.
"About a month ago I received this letter, and about a fortnight ago I
answered it, for I thought it a case of some delicacy, and requiring
early attention. It is from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who, when I am dead,
may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases."

"Oh! my dear," cried his wife, "I cannot bear to hear that mentioned.
Pray do not talk of that odious man. I do think it is the hardest thing
in the world, that your estate should be entailed away from your own
children; and I am sure if I had been you, I should have tried long ago
to do something or other about it."

Jane and Elizabeth attempted to explain to her the nature of an entail.
They had often attempted it before, but it was a subject on which Mrs.
Bennet was beyond the reach of reason; and she continued to rail
bitterly against the cruelty of settling an estate away from a family of
five daughters, in favour of a man whom nobody cared anything about.

"It certainly is a most iniquitous affair," said Mr. Bennet, "and
nothing can clear Mr. Collins from the guilt of inheriting Longbourn.
But if you will listen to his letter, you may perhaps be a little
softened by his manner of expressing himself."

"No, that I am sure I shall not; and I think it was very impertinent of
him to write to you at all, and very hypocritical. I hate such false
friends. Why could not he keep on quarrelling with you, as his father
did before him?"

"Why, indeed, he does seem to have had some filial scruples on that
head, as you will hear."

     _Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,

     15th October._

     DEAR SIR,

     The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured
     father, always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the
     misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the
     breach; but for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing
     lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good
     terms with any one, with whom it had always pleased him to be at
     variance.--"There, Mrs. Bennet."--My mind however is now made up on
     the subject, for having received ordination at Easter, I have been
     so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right
     Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh,
     whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable
     rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavour to
     demean myself with grateful respect towards her Ladyship, and be
     ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are
     instituted by the Church of England. As a clergyman, moreover, I
     feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in
     all families within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds
     I flatter myself that my present overtures of good-will are highly
     commendable, and that the circumstance of my being next in the
     entail of Longbourn estate, will be kindly overlooked on your side,
     and not lead you to reject the offered olive branch. I cannot be
     otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your
     amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologise for it, as well as to
     assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends,--but
     of this hereafter. If you should have no objection to receive me
     into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on
     you and your family, Monday, November 18th, by four o'clock, and
     shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday
     se'night following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as
     Lady Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a
     Sunday, provided that some other clergyman is engaged to do the
     duty of the day. I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to
     your lady and daughters, your well-wisher and friend,

     WILLIAM COLLINS."

"At four o'clock, therefore, we may expect this peace-making gentleman,"
said Mr. Bennet, as he folded up the letter. "He seems to be a most
conscientious and polite young man, upon my word; and I doubt not will
prove a valuable acquaintance, especially if Lady Catherine should be so
indulgent as to let him come to us again."

"There is some sense in what he says about the girls however; and if he
is disposed to make them any amends, I shall not be the person to
discourage him."

"Though it is difficult," said Jane, "to guess in what way he can mean
to make us the atonement he thinks our due, the wish is certainly to his
credit."

Elizabeth was chiefly struck with his extraordinary deference for Lady
Catherine, and his kind intention of christening, marrying, and burying
his parishioners whenever it were required.

"He must be an oddity, I think," said she. "I cannot make him
out.--There is something very pompous in his style.--And what can he
mean by apologizing for being next in the entail?--We cannot suppose he
would help it, if he could.--Can he be a sensible man, sir?"

"No, my dear; I think not. I have great hopes of finding him quite the
reverse. There is a mixture of servility and self-importance in his
letter, which promises well. I am impatient to see him."

"In point of composition," said Mary, "his letter does not seem
defective. The idea of the olive branch perhaps is not wholly new, yet I
think it is well expressed."

To Catherine and Lydia, neither the letter nor its writer were in any
degree interesting. It was next to impossible that their cousin should
come in a scarlet coat, and it was now some weeks since they had
received pleasure from the society of a man in any other colour. As for
their mother, Mr. Collins's letter had done away much of her ill-will,
and she was preparing to see him with a degree of composure, which
astonished her husband and daughters.

Mr. Collins was punctual to his time, and was received with great
politeness by the whole family. Mr. Bennet indeed said little; but the
ladies were ready enough to talk, and Mr. Collins seemed neither in need
of encouragement, nor inclined to be silent himself. He was a tall,
heavy looking young man of five and twenty. His air was grave and
stately, and his manners were very formal. He had not been long seated
before he complimented Mrs. Bennet on having so fine a family of
daughters, said he had heard much of their beauty, but that, in this
instance, fame had fallen short of the truth; and added, that he did
not doubt her seeing them all in due time well disposed of in marriage.
This gallantry was not much to the taste of some of his hearers, but
Mrs. Bennet, who quarrelled with no compliments, answered most readily,

"You are very kind, sir, I am sure; and I wish with all my heart it may
prove so; for else they will be destitute enough. Things are settled so
oddly."

"You allude perhaps to the entail of this estate."

"Ah! sir, I do indeed. It is a grievous affair to my poor girls, you
must confess. Not that I mean to find fault with _you_, for such things
I know are all chance in this world. There is no knowing how estates
will go when once they come to be entailed."

"I am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to my fair cousins,--and
could say much on the subject, but that I am cautious of appearing
forward and precipitate. But I can assure the young ladies that I come
prepared to admire them. At present I will not say more, but perhaps
when we are better acquainted----"

He was interrupted by a summons to dinner; and the girls smiled on each
other. They were not the only objects of Mr. Collins's admiration. The
hall, the dining-room, and all its furniture were examined and praised;
and his commendation of every thing would have touched Mrs. Bennet's
heart, but for the mortifying supposition of his viewing it all as his
own future property. The dinner too in its turn was highly admired; and
he begged to know to which of his fair cousins, the excellence of its
cookery was owing. But here he was set right by Mrs. Bennet, who assured
him with some asperity that they were very well able to keep a good
cook, and that her daughters had nothing to do in the kitchen. He begged
pardon for having displeased her. In a softened tone she declared
herself not at all offended; but he continued to apologise for about a
quarter of an hour.





During dinner, Mr. Bennet scarcely spoke at all; but when the servants
were withdrawn, he thought it time to have some conversation with his
guest, and therefore started a subject in which he expected him to
shine, by observing that he seemed very fortunate in his patroness. Lady
Catherine de Bourgh's attention to his wishes, and consideration for his
comfort, appeared very remarkable. Mr. Bennet could not have chosen
better. Mr. Collins was eloquent in her praise. The subject elevated him
to more than usual solemnity of manner, and with a most important aspect
he protested that he had never in his life witnessed such behaviour in a
person of rank--such affability and condescension, as he had himself
experienced from Lady Catherine. She had been graciously pleased to
approve of both the discourses, which he had already had the honour of
preaching before her. She had also asked him twice to dine at Rosings,
and had sent for him only the Saturday before, to make up her pool of
quadrille in the evening. Lady Catherine was reckoned proud by many
people he knew, but _he_ had never seen any thing but affability in her.
She had always spoken to him as she would to any other gentleman; she
made not the smallest objection to his joining in the society of the
neighbourhood, nor to his leaving his parish occasionally for a week or
two, to visit his relations. She had even condescended to advise him to
marry as soon as he could, provided he chose with discretion; and had
once paid him a visit in his humble parsonage; where she had perfectly
approved all the alterations he had been making, and had even vouchsafed
to suggest some herself,--some shelves in the closets up stairs.

"That is all very proper and civil, I am sure," said Mrs. Bennet, "and I
dare say she is a very agreeable woman. It is a pity that great ladies
in general are not more like her. Does she live near you, sir?"

"The garden in which stands my humble abode, is separated only by a lane
from Rosings Park, her ladyship's residence."

"I think you said she was a widow, sir? has she any family?"

"She has one only daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of very
extensive property."

"Ah!" cried Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head, "then she is better off than
many girls. And what sort of young lady is she? is she handsome?"

"She is a most charming young lady indeed. Lady Catherine herself says
that in point of true beauty, Miss De Bourgh is far superior to the
handsomest of her sex; because there is that in her features which marks
the young woman of distinguished birth. She is unfortunately of a sickly
constitution, which has prevented her making that progress in many
accomplishments, which she could not otherwise have failed of; as I am
informed by the lady who superintended her education, and who still
resides with them. But she is perfectly amiable, and often condescends
to drive by my humble abode in her little phaeton and ponies."

"Has she been presented? I do not remember her name among the ladies at
court."

"Her indifferent state of health unhappily prevents her being in town;
and by that means, as I told Lady Catherine myself one day, has deprived
the British court of its brightest ornament. Her ladyship seemed pleased
with the idea, and you may imagine that I am happy on every occasion to
offer those little delicate compliments which are always acceptable to
ladies. I have more than once observed to Lady Catherine, that her
charming daughter seemed born to be a duchess, and that the most
elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence, would be adorned by
her.--These are the kind of little things which please her ladyship, and
it is a sort of attention which I conceive myself peculiarly bound to
pay."

"You judge very properly," said Mr. Bennet, "and it is happy for you
that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I ask
whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the
moment, or are the result of previous study?"

"They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though I
sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant
compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to
give them as unstudied an air as possible."

Mr. Bennet's expectations were fully answered. His cousin was as absurd
as he had hoped, and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment,
maintaining at the same time the most resolute composure of countenance,
and except in an occasional glance at Elizabeth, requiring no partner in
his pleasure.

By tea-time however the dose had been enough, and Mr. Bennet was glad to
take his guest into the drawing-room again, and when tea was over, glad
to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Mr. Collins readily assented,
and a book was produced; but on beholding it, (for every thing announced
it to be from a circulating library,) he started back, and begging
pardon, protested that he never read novels.--Kitty stared at him, and
Lydia exclaimed.--Other books were produced, and after some deliberation
he chose Fordyce's Sermons. Lydia gaped as he opened the volume, and
before he had, with very monotonous solemnity, read three pages, she
interrupted him with,

"Do you know, mama, that my uncle Philips talks of turning away Richard,
and if he does, Colonel Forster will hire him. My aunt told me so
herself on Saturday. I shall walk to Meryton to-morrow to hear more
about it, and to ask when Mr. Denny comes back from town."

Lydia was bid by her two eldest sisters to hold her tongue; but Mr.
Collins, much offended, laid aside his book, and said,

"I have often observed how little young ladies are interested by books
of a serious stamp, though written solely for their benefit. It amazes
me, I confess;--for certainly, there can be nothing so advantageous to
them as instruction. But I will no longer importune my young cousin."

Then turning to Mr. Bennet, he offered himself as his antagonist at
backgammon. Mr. Bennet accepted the challenge, observing that he acted
very wisely in leaving the girls to their own trifling amusements. Mrs.
Bennet and her daughters apologised most civilly for Lydia's
interruption, and promised that it should not occur again, if he would
resume his book; but Mr. Collins, after assuring them that he bore his
young cousin no ill will, and should never resent her behaviour as any
affront, seated himself at another table with Mr. Bennet, and prepared
for backgammon.

 In this chapter, Austen introduces the entail, an old British custom designed to keep a family estate within the bloodline. In this case, Longbourn can only pass on to a male heir. Because the Bennets have only daughters, they are likely to lose the estate to a distant relation upon Mr. Bennet's death. Lydia and Kitty often visit their aunt, Mrs. Phillips, in nearby Meryton. They increase the frequency of their visits after the arrival of a militia regiment because they enjoy flirting with the soldiers. Mr. Bennet often complains of his two younger daughters' foolishness, but Mrs. Bennet does not consider their obsession with the officers to be a cause for concern. Jane receives an invitation from the Bingley girls to dine at Netherfield. Mrs. Bennet instructs Jane to go on horseback, hoping that the rain will force Jane to spend the night and have an opportunity to interact with Mr. Bingley. Jane does not like her mother's scheme but has no choice but to go along with it. The plan works too well, however. Not only does the rain detain Jane at Netherfield, but she falls ill as a result of getting soaked on her ride there. The Bingley family expects Jane to stay at Netherfield until she recovers. After receiving the letter informing the Bennets of Jane's illness, Elizabeth insists on visiting her sister at Netherfield. She walks through the wet fields because there are no horses available. By the time she arrives at Netherfield, Elizabeth is disheveled and has mud all over her dress. The Bingley sisters are shocked by her messy appearance. Darcy, on the other hand, quietly notices that the exercise has improved Elizabeth's complexion. Meanwhile, Jane's condition has intensified and she cannot leave her bed. Elizabeth attends to her sister with great solicitude all day. Jane does not want Elizabeth to leave her side that evening, so Caroline invites the younger Bennet sister to stay the night at Netherfield. Chapter 8 After dinner, Elizabeth leaves the table to attend to Jane, and the party begins to talk about her. Caroline harshly criticizes Elizabeth's pride and stubborn independence, but Mr. Bingley and Darcy admire her devotion to Jane. The Bingley sisters also deride the Bennets's low family connections. Bingley does not seem to care about the Bennets's social standing, although Darcy considers lowly status an impediment to the Bennet girls' chances of marrying well. After Jane falls asleep, Elizabeth joins the others in the drawing room and participates in a conversation about what it means for a woman to be accomplished. Throughout the debate, Elizabeth and Darcy frequently disagree, although they argue with great wit. Darcy and Caroline provide unrealistic criteria for a woman to be considered accomplished, inciting Elizabeth to exclaim that she has never met such a woman in her life. Chapter 9 Elizabeth asks that her mother be summoned to visit Jane, and Bingley complies. When Mrs. Bennet arrives, she is pleased to see that Jane will eventually recover but still ill enough to remain at Netherfield . Mrs. Bennet lacks subtlety and her intentions become quite clear to everyone at Netherfield. She is also openly rude to Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth is embarrassed by her mother's behavior and pleased when Mrs. Bennet departs. Chapter 10 That evening in the drawing room, Darcy writes a letter to his sister while Caroline makes silly comments intended to flatter his letter-writing style. He ignores her attempts at flirtation. The group affectionately mocks Bingley for his pliable character, but Elizabeth defends him, suggesting that it is a virtue to yield to the persuasions of one's friends. Again, most of the debate takes place between Elizabeth and Darcy. Later, the Bingley sisters sing and play the piano. Elizabeth notices how frequently Mr. Darcy is looking at her, assuming that it is a sign of his disapproval. When Mr. Darcy asks her to dance, Elizabeth believes that his request is sarcastic and responds with a witty refusal. Caroline notices the interaction and later, privately taunts Darcy about the possibility of his marrying into a common family like the Bennets. Chapter 11 After dinner, Jane feels well enough to join the others in the drawing room. Elizabeth is delighted to see that Bingley is showing Jane so much attention. Meanwhile, Caroline continues her attempts to attract Darcy, and even feigns a love for reading. She then walks around the room in order to attract Darcy's admiration. She fails to arouse his attention, so she invites Elizabeth to walk with her. She notices that Darcy puts his book down and watches them. The group converses about Darcy's character, and Darcy admits that he has a tendency to be resentful. Elizabeth chastises him over his admission that he never changes his first impression of a person. Chapter 12 Once Jane has recovered, the Bennets plan to leave Netherfield. Mrs. Bennet is unwilling to send the carriage, hoping her daughters will stay longer, but the girls ask if they might borrow Bingley's carriage. He grants the favor. Everyone but Mr. Bingley is pleased to see Jane and Elizabeth go. Darcy is glad to be removed from the danger of Elizabeth's company, and Miss Bingley is glad to be rid of her competition. Chapter 13 The narrative shifts back to Longbourn. At breakfast the following day, Mr. Bennet announces that the family is expecting a visitor: Mr. Collins, the distant cousin who is next in the entail for the Longbourn estate . Though nobody in the family has ever met Mr. Collins, Mrs. Bennet hates him right away because of the entail. Mr. Bennet reads Mr. Collins's letter to the family. In it, Collins explains that he has recently been ordained and is receiving patronage from an aristocrat named Lady Catherine De Bourgh. Mr. Collins arrives the following afternoon, right on time. He is 25 years old, tall and heavyset, with a grave air and very formal manners. He tends to speak in long, overly-effusive monologues. Before dinner, Mr. Collins acknowledges the hardship that the entail presents to the Bennet family and professes his desire to make amends. He claims that he has come to Longbourn "prepared to admire" the young ladies of the household. Before he can explain his meaning, they are called to dinner. During dinner, Mr. Collins expresses his admiration for the house and the quality of the food. Chapter 14 After dinner, Mr. Bennet invites Mr. Collins to speak about his patroness Lady Catherine. Mr. Collins describes Lady Catherine with great solemnity and effusive praise, remarking on her great affability towards him, in spite of her high rank. He also describes Lady Catherine's daughter, Miss de Bourgh, as quite charming but rather sickly. Collins had worked to ingratiate himself with Lady Catherine by showering her daughter with flattering phrases. After this display, Mr. Bennet decides that Mr. Collins is absurd. After tea, Mr. Bennet asks Mr. Collins to read aloud. Mr. Collins declares that he never reads novels, and instead begins to read from a book of sermons with "monotonous solemnity." After a few pages, Lydia interrupts the reading to ask her mother a question about her Uncle Philips. Mr. Collins is offended, but takes the hint and stops reading after briefly reprimanding Lydia's frivolity. He then proposes playing a game of backgammon.

