Chapter: 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.

 As Jane continues to recuperate at Netherfield, Elizabeth again spends the evening in the drawing room with the Bingleys, Hursts, and Mr. Darcy. She observes Miss Bingley's obvious attempts to flirt with Darcy, but Darcy seems unmoved by her efforts. Elizabeth is energized by the group's discussion of character, especially the contrast between Bingley and Darcy. Bingley, they note, is impetuous and impressionable, while Darcy is ruled by reason and reflection. Although Elizabeth frequently challenges Darcy's comments, he continues to find her more and more attractive and realizes that he "had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her." Only the social class of some of her relatives prevent him from pursuing the attraction. The next evening, Jane is feeling well enough to join the group in the drawing room after dinner. Jane's attention is quickly monopolized by Bingley, leaving Elizabeth to again watch Miss Bingley disturbing Darcy with idle chatter. Eventually, Miss Bingley asks Elizabeth to walk around the room with her and then draws Darcy into a conversation with them, which soon turns into a debate between Darcy and Elizabeth over folly, weakness, and pride. Troubled by his fascination with Elizabeth, Darcy resolves to pay her less attention while she remains at Netherfield. Meanwhile, with Jane feeling better, both Jane and Elizabeth are eager to return home. Mrs. Bennet resists sending them the carriage, so they borrow Bingley's and depart on Sunday, five days after Jane's arrival at Netherfield. Although Mrs. Bennet is displeased that they left Netherfield so quickly, Mr. Bennet is glad to have them home again. The day after Jane and Elizabeth return home, their father announces that a visitor will be arriving that afternoon. The visitor is William Collins, Mr. Bennet's cousin and the man who will inherit Longbourn after Mr. Bennet dies. The estate is entailed, meaning that, according to the terms of inheritance, it must go to a male heir. Because Mr. Bennet's children are all female, the property will, by law, go to the next closest male relative: Mr. Collins. Mr. Bennet points out to his wife and daughters that Mr. Collins, as heir, "may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases" when Mr. Bennet is dead. Mr. Collins proves himself to be a curious blend of pompousness and obsequiousness. He is proud of his standing as the rector of the Hunsford parish and his patronage by Lady Catherine De Bourgh, and he does not hesitate to speak at length about his opinions. At the same time, however, he displays a relentlessly deferential manner, apologizing at length, for example, when he offends Mrs. Bennet by implying that they cannot afford to have a cook on staff. Mr. Bennet finds his cousin absurd and is amused by him, while Kitty and Lydia are shocked at Mr. Collins' announcement that he never reads novels. When he instead tries to read to them from Fordyce's Sermons, Lydia offends him by beginning to talk of something else.

