Chapter: The next day opened a new scene at Longbourn. Mr. Collins made his
declaration in form. Having resolved to do it without loss of time, as
his leave of absence extended only to the following Saturday, and having
no feelings of diffidence to make it distressing to himself even at the
moment, he set about it in a very orderly manner, with all the
observances which he supposed a regular part of the business. On finding
Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and one of the younger girls together, soon
after breakfast, he addressed the mother in these words,

"May I hope, Madam, for your interest with your fair daughter Elizabeth,
when I solicit for the honour of a private audience with her in the
course of this morning?"

Before Elizabeth had time for any thing but a blush of surprise, Mrs.
Bennet instantly answered,

"Oh dear!--Yes--certainly.--I am sure Lizzy will be very happy--I am
sure she can have no objection.--Come, Kitty, I want you up stairs." And
gathering her work together, she was hastening away, when Elizabeth
called out,

"Dear Ma'am, do not go.--I beg you will not go.--Mr. Collins must excuse
me.--He can have nothing to say to me that any body need not hear. I am
going away myself."

"No, no, nonsense, Lizzy.--I desire you will stay where you are."--And
upon Elizabeth's seeming really, with vexed and embarrassed looks, about
to escape, she added, "Lizzy, I _insist_ upon your staying and hearing
Mr. Collins."

Elizabeth would not oppose such an injunction--and a moment's
consideration making her also sensible that it would be wisest to get it
over as soon and as quietly as possible, she sat down again, and tried
to conceal by incessant employment the feelings which were divided
between distress and diversion. Mrs. Bennet and Kitty walked off, and as
soon as they were gone Mr. Collins began.

"Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so far from
doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You
would have been less amiable in my eyes had there _not_ been this little
unwillingness; but allow me to assure you that I have your respected
mother's permission for this address. You can hardly doubt the purport
of my discourse, however your natural delicacy may lead you to
dissemble; my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as
soon as I entered the house I singled you out as the companion of my
future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this
subject, perhaps it will be advisable for me to state my reasons for
marrying--and moreover for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of
selecting a wife, as I certainly did."

The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away
with by his feelings, made Elizabeth so near laughing that she could not
use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop him farther, and
he continued:

"My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for
every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example
of matrimony in his parish. Secondly, that I am convinced it will add
very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly--which perhaps I ought to have
mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and recommendation
of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness.
Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion (unasked too!) on this
subject; and it was but the very Saturday night before I left
Hunsford--between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was
arranging Miss de Bourgh's foot-stool, that she said, 'Mr. Collins, you
must marry. A clergyman like you must marry.--Chuse properly, chuse a
gentlewoman for _my_ sake; and for your _own_, let her be an active,
useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small
income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as
you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her.' Allow me, by the
way, to observe, my fair cousin, that I do not reckon the notice and
kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the
advantages in my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond any
thing I can describe; and your wit and vivacity I think must be
acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and respect
which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus much for my general
intention in favour of matrimony; it remains to be told why my views
were directed to Longbourn instead of my own neighbourhood, where I
assure you there are many amiable young women. But the fact is, that
being, as I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honoured
father, (who, however, may live many years longer,) I could not satisfy
myself without resolving to chuse a wife from among his daughters, that
the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholy
event takes place--which, however, as I have already said, may not be
for several years. This has been my motive, my fair cousin, and I
flatter myself it will not sink me in your esteem. And now nothing
remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the
violence of my affection. To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and
shall make no demand of that nature on your father, since I am well
aware that it could not be complied with; and that one thousand pounds
in the 4 per cents. which will not be yours till after your mother's
decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head,
therefore, I shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself that
no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married."

It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now.

"You are too hasty, Sir," she cried. "You forget that I have made no
answer. Let me do it without farther loss of time. Accept my thanks for
the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honour of
your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than decline
them."

"I am not now to learn," replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the
hand, "that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the
man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their
favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a
third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just
said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long."

"Upon my word, Sir," cried Elizabeth, "your hope is rather an
extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not
one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so
daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second
time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal.--You could not make _me_
happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who
would make _you_ so.--Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I
am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the
situation."

"Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so," said Mr. Collins
very gravely--"but I cannot imagine that her ladyship would at all
disapprove of you. And you may be certain that when I have the honour of
seeing her again I shall speak in the highest terms of your modesty,
economy, and other amiable qualifications."

"Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must
give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of
believing what I say. I wish you very happy and very rich, and by
refusing your hand, do all in my power to prevent your being otherwise.
In making me the offer, you must have satisfied the delicacy of your
feelings with regard to my family, and may take possession of Longbourn
estate whenever it falls, without any self-reproach. This matter may be
considered, therefore, as finally settled." And rising as she thus
spoke, she would have quitted the room, had not Mr. Collins thus
addressed her,

"When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on this subject I
shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given
me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I
know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the
first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much to
encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the
female character."

"Really, Mr. Collins," cried Elizabeth with some warmth, "you puzzle me
exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form
of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as
may convince you of its being one."

"You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your
refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for
believing it are briefly these:--It does not appear to me that my hand
is unworthy your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would
be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections
with the family of De Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are
circumstances highly in my favour; and you should take it into farther
consideration that in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no
means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you. Your
portion is unhappily so small that it will in all likelihood undo the
effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must
therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I
shall chuse to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by
suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females."

"I do assure you, Sir, that I have no pretension whatever to that kind
of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would
rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you
again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but
to accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect
forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant
female intending to plague you, but as a rational creature speaking the
truth from her heart."

"You are uniformly charming!" cried he, with an air of awkward
gallantry; "and I am persuaded that when sanctioned by the express
authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of
being acceptable."

To such perseverance in wilful self-deception Elizabeth would make no
reply, and immediately and in silence withdrew; determined, if he
persisted in considering her repeated refusals as flattering
encouragement, to apply to her father, whose negative might be uttered
in such a manner as must be decisive, and whose behaviour at least could
not be mistaken for the affectation and coquetry of an elegant female.





Mr. Collins was not left long to the silent contemplation of his
successful love; for Mrs. Bennet, having dawdled about in the vestibule
to watch for the end of the conference, no sooner saw Elizabeth open the
door and with quick step pass her towards the staircase, than she
entered the breakfast-room, and congratulated both him and herself in
warm terms on the happy prospect of their nearer connection. Mr. Collins
received and returned these felicitations with equal pleasure, and then
proceeded to relate the particulars of their interview, with the result
of which he trusted he had every reason to be satisfied, since the
refusal which his cousin had steadfastly given him would naturally flow
from her bashful modesty and the genuine delicacy of her character.

This information, however, startled Mrs. Bennet;--she would have been
glad to be equally satisfied that her daughter had meant to encourage
him by protesting against his proposals, but she dared not to believe
it, and could not help saying so.

"But depend upon it, Mr. Collins," she added, "that Lizzy shall be
brought to reason. I will speak to her about it myself directly. She is
a very headstrong foolish girl, and does not know her own interest; but
I will _make_ her know it."

"Pardon me for interrupting you, Madam," cried Mr. Collins; "but if she
is really headstrong and foolish, I know not whether she would
altogether be a very desirable wife to a man in my situation, who
naturally looks for happiness in the marriage state. If therefore she
actually persists in rejecting my suit, perhaps it were better not to
force her into accepting me, because if liable to such defects of
temper, she could not contribute much to my felicity."

"Sir, you quite misunderstand me," said Mrs. Bennet, alarmed. "Lizzy is
only headstrong in such matters as these. In every thing else she is as
good natured a girl as ever lived. I will go directly to Mr. Bennet, and
we shall very soon settle it with her, I am sure."

She would not give him time to reply, but hurrying instantly to her
husband, called out as she entered the library,

"Oh! Mr. Bennet, you are wanted immediately; we are all in an uproar.
You must come and make Lizzy marry Mr. Collins, for she vows she will
not have him, and if you do not make haste he will change his mind and
not have _her_."

Mr. Bennet raised his eyes from his book as she entered, and fixed them
on her face with a calm unconcern which was not in the least altered by
her communication.

"I have not the pleasure of understanding you," said he, when she had
finished her speech. "Of what are you talking?"

"Of Mr. Collins and Lizzy. Lizzy declares she will not have Mr. Collins,
and Mr. Collins begins to say that he will not have Lizzy."

"And what am I to do on the occasion?--It seems an hopeless business."

"Speak to Lizzy about it yourself. Tell her that you insist upon her
marrying him."

"Let her be called down. She shall hear my opinion."

Mrs. Bennet rang the bell, and Miss Elizabeth was summoned to the
library.

"Come here, child," cried her father as she appeared. "I have sent for
you on an affair of importance. I understand that Mr. Collins has made
you an offer of marriage. Is it true?" Elizabeth replied that it was.
"Very well--and this offer of marriage you have refused?"

"I have, Sir."

"Very well. We now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your
accepting it. Is not it so, Mrs. Bennet?"

"Yes, or I will never see her again."

"An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must
be a stranger to one of your parents.--Your mother will never see you
again if you do _not_ marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again
if you _do_."

Elizabeth could not but smile at such a conclusion of such a beginning;
but Mrs. Bennet, who had persuaded herself that her husband regarded the
affair as she wished, was excessively disappointed.

"What do you mean, Mr. Bennet, by talking in this way? You promised me
to _insist_ upon her marrying him."

"My dear," replied her husband, "I have two small favours to request.
First, that you will allow me the free use of my understanding on the
present occasion; and secondly, of my room. I shall be glad to have the
library to myself as soon as may be."

Not yet, however, in spite of her disappointment in her husband, did
Mrs. Bennet give up the point. She talked to Elizabeth again and again;
coaxed and threatened her by turns. She endeavoured to secure Jane in
her interest, but Jane with all possible mildness declined
interfering;--and Elizabeth sometimes with real earnestness and
sometimes with playful gaiety replied to her attacks. Though her manner
varied however, her determination never did.

Mr. Collins, meanwhile, was meditating in solitude on what had passed.
He thought too well of himself to comprehend on what motive his cousin
could refuse him; and though his pride was hurt, he suffered in no other
way. His regard for her was quite imaginary; and the possibility of her
deserving her mother's reproach prevented his feeling any regret.

While the family were in this confusion, Charlotte Lucas came to spend
the day with them. She was met in the vestibule by Lydia, who, flying to
her, cried in a half whisper, "I am glad you are come, for there is such
fun here!--What do you think has happened this morning?--Mr. Collins has
made an offer to Lizzy, and she will not have him."

Charlotte had hardly time to answer, before they were joined by Kitty,
who came to tell the same news, and no sooner had they entered the
breakfast-room, where Mrs. Bennet was alone, than she likewise began on
the subject, calling on Miss Lucas for her compassion, and entreating
her to persuade her friend Lizzy to comply with the wishes of all her
family. "Pray do, my dear Miss Lucas," she added in a melancholy tone,
"for nobody is on my side, nobody takes part with me, I am cruelly used,
nobody feels for my poor nerves."

Charlotte's reply was spared by the entrance of Jane and Elizabeth.

"Aye, there she comes," continued Mrs. Bennet, "looking as unconcerned
as may be, and caring no more for us than if we were at York, provided
she can have her own way.--But I tell you what, Miss Lizzy, if you take
it into your head to go on refusing every offer of marriage in this way,
you will never get a husband at all--and I am sure I do not know who is
to maintain you when your father is dead.--_I_ shall not be able to keep
you--and so I warn you.--I have done with you from this very day.--I
told you in the library, you know, that I should never speak to you
again, and you will find me as good as my word. I have no pleasure in
talking to undutiful children.--Not that I have much pleasure indeed in
talking to any body. People who suffer as I do from nervous complaints
can have no great inclination for talking. Nobody can tell what I
suffer!--But it is always so. Those who do not complain are never
pitied."

Her daughters listened in silence to this effusion, sensible that any
attempt to reason with or sooth her would only increase the irritation.
She talked on, therefore, without interruption from any of them till
they were joined by Mr. Collins, who entered with an air more stately
than usual, and on perceiving whom, she said to the girls,

"Now, I do insist upon it, that you, all of you, hold your tongues, and
let Mr. Collins and me have a little conversation together."

Elizabeth passed quietly out of the room, Jane and Kitty followed, but
Lydia stood her ground, determined to hear all she could; and Charlotte,
detained first by the civility of Mr. Collins, whose inquiries after
herself and all her family were very minute, and then by a little
curiosity, satisfied herself with walking to the window and pretending
not to hear. In a doleful voice Mrs. Bennet thus began the projected
conversation.--"Oh! Mr. Collins!"--

"My dear Madam," replied he, "let us be for ever silent on this point.
Far be it from me," he presently continued in a voice that marked his
displeasure, "to resent the behaviour of your daughter. Resignation to
inevitable evils is the duty of us all; the peculiar duty of a young man
who has been so fortunate as I have been in early preferment; and I
trust I am resigned. Perhaps not the less so from feeling a doubt of my
positive happiness had my fair cousin honoured me with her hand; for I
have often observed that resignation is never so perfect as when the
blessing denied begins to lose somewhat of its value in our estimation.
You will not, I hope, consider me as shewing any disrespect to your
family, my dear Madam, by thus withdrawing my pretensions to your
daughter's favour, without having paid yourself and Mr. Bennet the
compliment of requesting you to interpose your authority in my behalf.
My conduct may I fear be objectionable in having accepted my dismission
from your daughter's lips instead of your own. But we are all liable to
error. I have certainly meant well through the whole affair. My object
has been to secure an amiable companion for myself, with due
consideration for the advantage of all your family, and if my _manner_
has been at all reprehensible, I here beg leave to apologise."





The discussion of Mr. Collins's offer was now nearly at an end, and
Elizabeth had only to suffer from the uncomfortable feelings necessarily
attending it, and occasionally from some peevish allusion of her mother.
As for the gentleman himself, _his_ feelings were chiefly expressed, not
by embarrassment or dejection, or by trying to avoid her, but by
stiffness of manner and resentful silence. He scarcely ever spoke to
her, and the assiduous attentions which he had been so sensible of
himself, were transferred for the rest of the day to Miss Lucas, whose
civility in listening to him, was a seasonable relief to them all, and
especially to her friend.

The morrow produced no abatement of Mrs. Bennet's ill humour or ill
health. Mr. Collins was also in the same state of angry pride. Elizabeth
had hoped that his resentment might shorten his visit, but his plan did
not appear in the least affected by it. He was always to have gone on
Saturday, and to Saturday he still meant to stay.

After breakfast, the girls walked to Meryton to inquire if Mr. Wickham
were returned, and to lament over his absence from the Netherfield ball.
He joined them on their entering the town and attended them to their
aunt's, where his regret and vexation, and the concern of every body was
well talked over.--To Elizabeth, however, he voluntarily acknowledged
that the necessity of his absence _had_ been self imposed.

"I found," said he, "as the time drew near, that I had better not meet
Mr. Darcy;--that to be in the same room, the same party with him for so
many hours together, might be more than I could bear, and that scenes
might arise unpleasant to more than myself."

She highly approved his forbearance, and they had leisure for a full
discussion of it, and for all the commendation which they civilly
bestowed on each other, as Wickham and another officer walked back with
them to Longbourn, and during the walk, he particularly attended to her.
His accompanying them was a double advantage; she felt all the
compliment it offered to herself, and it was most acceptable as an
occasion of introducing him to her father and mother.

Soon after their return, a letter was delivered to Miss Bennet; it came
from Netherfield, and was opened immediately. The envelope contained a
sheet of elegant, little, hot pressed paper, well covered with a lady's
fair, flowing hand; and Elizabeth saw her sister's countenance change as
she read it, and saw her dwelling intently on some particular passages.
Jane recollected herself soon, and putting the letter away, tried to
join with her usual cheerfulness in the general conversation; but
Elizabeth felt an anxiety on the subject which drew off her attention
even from Wickham; and no sooner had he and his companion taken leave,
than a glance from Jane invited her to follow her up stairs. When they
had gained their own room, Jane taking out the letter, said,

"This is from Caroline Bingley; what it contains, has surprised me a
good deal. The whole party have left Netherfield by this time, and are
on their way to town; and without any intention of coming back again.
You shall hear what she says."

She then read the first sentence aloud, which comprised the information
of their having just resolved to follow their brother to town directly,
and of their meaning to dine that day in Grosvenor street, where Mr.
Hurst had a house. The next was in these words. "I do not pretend to
regret any thing I shall leave in Hertfordshire, except your society, my
dearest friend; but we will hope at some future period, to enjoy many
returns of the delightful intercourse we have known, and in the mean
while may lessen the pain of separation by a very frequent and most
unreserved correspondence. I depend on you for that." To these high
flown expressions, Elizabeth listened with all the insensibility of
distrust; and though the suddenness of their removal surprised her, she
saw nothing in it really to lament; it was not to be supposed that their
absence from Netherfield would prevent Mr. Bingley's being there; and as
to the loss of their society, she was persuaded that Jane must soon
cease to regard it, in the enjoyment of his.

"It is unlucky," said she, after a short pause, "that you should not be
able to see your friends before they leave the country. But may we not
hope that the period of future happiness to which Miss Bingley looks
forward, may arrive earlier than she is aware, and that the delightful
intercourse you have known as friends, will be renewed with yet greater
satisfaction as sisters?--Mr. Bingley will not be detained in London by
them."

"Caroline decidedly says that none of the party will return into
Hertfordshire this winter. I will read it to you--

"When my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that the business which
took him to London, might be concluded in three or four days, but as we
are certain it cannot be so, and at the same time convinced that when
Charles gets to town, he will be in no hurry to leave it again, we have
determined on following him thither, that he may not be obliged to spend
his vacant hours in a comfortless hotel. Many of my acquaintance are
already there for the winter; I wish I could hear that you, my dearest
friend, had any intention of making one in the croud, but of that I
despair. I sincerely hope your Christmas in Hertfordshire may abound in
the gaieties which that season generally brings, and that your beaux
will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of the three, of
whom we shall deprive you."

"It is evident by this," added Jane, "that he comes back no more this
winter."

"It is only evident that Miss Bingley does not mean he _should_."

"Why will you think so? It must be his own doing.--He is his own master.
But you do not know _all_. I _will_ read you the passage which
particularly hurts me. I will have no reserves from _you_." "Mr. Darcy
is impatient to see his sister, and to confess the truth, _we_ are
scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really do not think Georgiana
Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the
affection she inspires in Louisa and myself, is heightened into
something still more interesting, from the hope we dare to entertain of
her being hereafter our sister. I do not know whether I ever before
mentioned to you my feelings on this subject, but I will not leave the
country without confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them
unreasonable. My brother admires her greatly already, he will have
frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing, her
relations all wish the connection as much as his own, and a sister's
partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most
capable of engaging any woman's heart. With all these circumstances to
favour an attachment and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest
Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness
of so many?"

"What think you of _this_ sentence, my dear Lizzy?"--said Jane as she
finished it. "Is it not clear enough?--Does it not expressly declare
that Caroline neither expects nor wishes me to be her sister; that she
is perfectly convinced of her brother's indifference, and that if she
suspects the nature of my feelings for him, she means (most kindly!) to
put me on my guard? Can there be any other opinion on the subject?"

"Yes, there can; for mine is totally different.--Will you hear it?"

"Most willingly."

"You shall have it in few words. Miss Bingley sees that her brother is
in love with you, and wants him to marry Miss Darcy. She follows him to
town in the hope of keeping him there, and tries to persuade you that he
does not care about you."

Jane shook her head.

"Indeed, Jane, you ought to believe me.--No one who has ever seen you
together, can doubt his affection. Miss Bingley I am sure cannot. She is
not such a simpleton. Could she have seen half as much love in Mr. Darcy
for herself, she would have ordered her wedding clothes. But the case is
this. We are not rich enough, or grand enough for them; and she is the
more anxious to get Miss Darcy for her brother, from the notion that
when there has been _one_ intermarriage, she may have less trouble in
achieving a second; in which there is certainly some ingenuity, and I
dare say it would succeed, if Miss de Bourgh were out of the way. But,
my dearest Jane, you cannot seriously imagine that because Miss Bingley
tells you her brother greatly admires Miss Darcy, he is in the smallest
degree less sensible of _your_ merit than when he took leave of you on
Tuesday, or that it will be in her power to persuade him that instead of
being in love with you, he is very much in love with her friend."

"If we thought alike of Miss Bingley," replied Jane, "your
representation of all this, might make me quite easy. But I know the
foundation is unjust. Caroline is incapable of wilfully deceiving any
one; and all that I can hope in this case is, that she is deceived
herself."

"That is right.--You could not have started a more happy idea, since you
will not take comfort in mine. Believe her to be deceived by all means.
You have now done your duty by her, and must fret no longer."

"But, my dear sister, can I be happy, even supposing the best, in
accepting a man whose sisters and friends are all wishing him to marry
elsewhere?"

"You must decide for yourself," said Elizabeth, "and if upon mature
deliberation, you find that the misery of disobliging his two sisters is
more than equivalent to the happiness of being his wife, I advise you by
all means to refuse him."

"How can you talk so?"--said Jane faintly smiling,--"You must know that
though I should be exceedingly grieved at their disapprobation, I could
not hesitate."

"I did not think you would;--and that being the case, I cannot consider
your situation with much compassion."

"But if he returns no more this winter, my choice will never be
required. A thousand things may arise in six months!"

The idea of his returning no more Elizabeth treated with the utmost
contempt. It appeared to her merely the suggestion of Caroline's
interested wishes, and she could not for a moment suppose that those
wishes, however openly or artfully spoken, could influence a young man
so totally independent of every one.

She represented to her sister as forcibly as possible what she felt on
the subject, and had soon the pleasure of seeing its happy effect.
Jane's temper was not desponding, and she was gradually led to hope,
though the diffidence of affection sometimes overcame the hope, that
Bingley would return to Netherfield and answer every wish of her heart.

They agreed that Mrs. Bennet should only hear of the departure of the
family, without being alarmed on the score of the gentleman's conduct;
but even this partial communication gave her a great deal of concern,
and she bewailed it as exceedingly unlucky that the ladies should happen
to go away, just as they were all getting so intimate together. After
lamenting it however at some length, she had the consolation of thinking
that Mr. Bingley would be soon down again and soon dining at Longbourn,
and the conclusion of all was the comfortable declaration that, though
he had been invited only to a family dinner, she would take care to have
two full courses.





The Bennets were engaged to dine with the Lucases, and again during the
chief of the day, was Miss Lucas so kind as to listen to Mr. Collins.
Elizabeth took an opportunity of thanking her. "It keeps him in good
humour," said she, "and I am more obliged to you than I can express."
Charlotte assured her friend of her satisfaction in being useful, and
that it amply repaid her for the little sacrifice of her time. This was
very amiable, but Charlotte's kindness extended farther than Elizabeth
had any conception of;--its object was nothing less, than to secure her
from any return of Mr. Collins's addresses, by engaging them towards
herself. Such was Miss Lucas's scheme; and appearances were so
favourable that when they parted at night, she would have felt almost
sure of success if he had not been to leave Hertfordshire so very soon.
But here, she did injustice to the fire and independence of his
character, for it led him to escape out of Longbourn House the next
morning with admirable slyness, and hasten to Lucas Lodge to throw
himself at her feet. He was anxious to avoid the notice of his cousins,
from a conviction that if they saw him depart, they could not fail to
conjecture his design, and he was not willing to have the attempt known
till its success could be known likewise; for though feeling almost
secure, and with reason, for Charlotte had been tolerably encouraging,
he was comparatively diffident since the adventure of Wednesday. His
reception however was of the most flattering kind. Miss Lucas perceived
him from an upper window as he walked towards the house, and instantly
set out to meet him accidentally in the lane. But little had she dared
to hope that so much love and eloquence awaited her there.

In as short a time as Mr. Collins's long speeches would allow, every
thing was settled between them to the satisfaction of both; and as they
entered the house, he earnestly entreated her to name the day that was
to make him the happiest of men; and though such a solicitation must be
waved for the present, the lady felt no inclination to trifle with his
happiness. The stupidity with which he was favoured by nature, must
guard his courtship from any charm that could make a woman wish for its
continuance; and Miss Lucas, who accepted him solely from the pure and
disinterested desire of an establishment, cared not how soon that
establishment were gained.

Sir William and Lady Lucas were speedily applied to for their consent;
and it was bestowed with a most joyful alacrity. Mr. Collins's present
circumstances made it a most eligible match for their daughter, to whom
they could give little fortune; and his prospects of future wealth were
exceedingly fair. Lady Lucas began directly to calculate with more
interest than the matter had ever excited before, how many years longer
Mr. Bennet was likely to live; and Sir William gave it as his decided
opinion, that whenever Mr. Collins should be in possession of the
Longbourn estate, it would be highly expedient that both he and his wife
should make their appearance at St. James's. The whole family in short
were properly overjoyed on the occasion. The younger girls formed hopes
of _coming out_ a year or two sooner than they might otherwise have
done; and the boys were relieved from their apprehension of Charlotte's
dying an old maid. Charlotte herself was tolerably composed. She had
gained her point, and had time to consider of it. Her reflections were
in general satisfactory. Mr. Collins to be sure was neither sensible nor
agreeable; his society was irksome, and his attachment to her must be
imaginary. But still he would be her husband.--Without thinking highly
either of men or of matrimony, marriage had always been her object; it
was the only honourable provision for well-educated young women of small
fortune, and however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their
pleasantest preservative from want. This preservative she had now
obtained; and at the age of twenty-seven, without having ever been
handsome, she felt all the good luck of it. The least agreeable
circumstance in the business, was the surprise it must occasion to
Elizabeth Bennet, whose friendship she valued beyond that of any other
person. Elizabeth would wonder, and probably would blame her; and though
her resolution was not to be shaken, her feelings must be hurt by such
disapprobation. She resolved to give her the information herself, and
therefore charged Mr. Collins when he returned to Longbourn to dinner,
to drop no hint of what had passed before any of the family. A promise
of secrecy was of course very dutifully given, but it could not be kept
without difficulty; for the curiosity excited by his long absence, burst
forth in such very direct questions on his return, as required some
ingenuity to evade, and he was at the same time exercising great
self-denial, for he was longing to publish his prosperous love.

As he was to begin his journey too early on the morrow to see any of the
family, the ceremony of leave-taking was performed when the ladies moved
for the night; and Mrs. Bennet with great politeness and cordiality said
how happy they should be to see him at Longbourn again, whenever his
other engagements might allow him to visit them.

"My dear Madam," he replied, "this invitation is particularly
gratifying, because it is what I have been hoping to receive; and you
may be very certain that I shall avail myself of it as soon as
possible."

They were all astonished; and Mr. Bennet, who could by no means wish for
so speedy a return, immediately said,

"But is there not danger of Lady Catherine's disapprobation here, my
good sir?--You had better neglect your relations, than run the risk of
offending your patroness."

"My dear sir," replied Mr. Collins, "I am particularly obliged to you
for this friendly caution, and you may depend upon my not taking so
material a step without her ladyship's concurrence."

"You cannot be too much on your guard. Risk any thing rather than her
displeasure; and if you find it likely to be raised by your coming to us
again, which I should think exceedingly probable, stay quietly at home,
and be satisfied that _we_ shall take no offence."

"Believe me, my dear sir, my gratitude is warmly excited by such
affectionate attention; and depend upon it, you will speedily receive
from me a letter of thanks for this, as well as for every other mark of
your regard during my stay in Hertfordshire. As for my fair cousins,
though my absence may not be long enough to render it necessary, I shall
now take the liberty of wishing them health and happiness, not excepting
my cousin Elizabeth."

With proper civilities the ladies then withdrew; all of them equally
surprised to find that he meditated a quick return. Mrs. Bennet wished
to understand by it that he thought of paying his addresses to one of
her younger girls, and Mary might have been prevailed on to accept him.
She rated his abilities much higher than any of the others; there was a
solidity in his reflections which often struck her, and though by no
means so clever as herself, she thought that if encouraged to read and
improve himself by such an example as her's, he might become a very
agreeable companion. But on the following morning, every hope of this
kind was done away. Miss Lucas called soon after breakfast, and in a
private conference with Elizabeth related the event of the day before.

The possibility of Mr. Collins's fancying himself in love with her
friend had once occurred to Elizabeth within the last day or two; but
that Charlotte could encourage him, seemed almost as far from
possibility as that she could encourage him herself, and her
astonishment was consequently so great as to overcome at first the
bounds of decorum, and she could not help crying out,

"Engaged to Mr. Collins! my dear Charlotte,--impossible!"

The steady countenance which Miss Lucas had commanded in telling her
story, gave way to a momentary confusion here on receiving so direct a
reproach; though, as it was no more than she expected, she soon
regained her composure, and calmly replied,

"Why should you be surprised, my dear Eliza?--Do you think it incredible
that Mr. Collins should be able to procure any woman's good opinion,
because he was not so happy as to succeed with you?"

But Elizabeth had now recollected herself, and making a strong effort
for it, was able to assure her with tolerable firmness that the prospect
of their relationship was highly grateful to her, and that she wished
her all imaginable happiness.

"I see what you are feeling," replied Charlotte,--"you must be
surprised, very much surprised,--so lately as Mr. Collins was wishing to
marry you. But when you have had time to think it all over, I hope you
will be satisfied with what I have done. I am not romantic you know. I
never was. I ask only a comfortable home; and considering Mr. Collins's
character, connections, and situation in life, I am convinced that my
chance of happiness with him is as fair, as most people can boast on
entering the marriage state."

Elizabeth quietly answered "Undoubtedly;"--and after an awkward pause,
they returned to the rest of the family. Charlotte did not stay much
longer, and Elizabeth was then left to reflect on what she had heard. It
was a long time before she became at all reconciled to the idea of so
unsuitable a match. The strangeness of Mr. Collins's making two offers
of marriage within three days, was nothing in comparison of his being
now accepted. She had always felt that Charlotte's opinion of matrimony
was not exactly like her own, but she could not have supposed it
possible that when called into action, she would have sacrificed every
better feeling to worldly advantage. Charlotte the wife of Mr. Collins,
was a most humiliating picture!--And to the pang of a friend disgracing
herself and sunk in her esteem, was added the distressing conviction
that it was impossible for that friend to be tolerably happy in the lot
she had chosen.





Elizabeth was sitting with her mother and sisters, reflecting on what
she had heard, and doubting whether she were authorised to mention it,
when Sir William Lucas himself appeared, sent by his daughter to
announce her engagement to the family. With many compliments to them,
and much self-gratulation on the prospect of a connection between the
houses, he unfolded the matter,--to an audience not merely wondering,
but incredulous; for Mrs. Bennet, with more perseverance than
politeness, protested he must be entirely mistaken, and Lydia, always
unguarded and often uncivil, boisterously exclaimed,

"Good Lord! Sir William, how can you tell such a story?--Do not you know
that Mr. Collins wants to marry Lizzy?"

Nothing less than the complaisance of a courtier could have borne
without anger such treatment; but Sir William's good breeding carried
him through it all; and though he begged leave to be positive as to the
truth of his information, he listened to all their impertinence with the
most forbearing courtesy.

Elizabeth, feeling it incumbent on her to relieve him from so unpleasant
a situation, now put herself forward to confirm his account, by
mentioning her prior knowledge of it from Charlotte herself; and
endeavoured to put a stop to the exclamations of her mother and sisters,
by the earnestness of her congratulations to Sir William, in which she
was readily joined by Jane, and by making a variety of remarks on the
happiness that might be expected from the match, the excellent character
of Mr. Collins, and the convenient distance of Hunsford from London.

Mrs. Bennet was in fact too much overpowered to say a great deal while
Sir William remained; but no sooner had he left them than her feelings
found a rapid vent. In the first place, she persisted in disbelieving
the whole of the matter; secondly, she was very sure that Mr. Collins
had been taken in; thirdly, she trusted that they would never be happy
together; and fourthly, that the match might be broken off. Two
inferences, however, were plainly deduced from the whole; one, that
Elizabeth was the real cause of all the mischief; and the other, that
she herself had been barbarously used by them all; and on these two
points she principally dwelt during the rest of the day. Nothing could
console and nothing appease her.--Nor did that day wear out her
resentment. A week elapsed before she could see Elizabeth without
scolding her, a month passed away before she could speak to Sir William
or Lady Lucas without being rude, and many months were gone before she
could at all forgive their daughter.

Mr. Bennet's emotions were much more tranquil on the occasion, and such
as he did experience he pronounced to be of a most agreeable sort; for
it gratified him, he said, to discover that Charlotte Lucas, whom he had
been used to think tolerably sensible, was as foolish as his wife, and
more foolish than his daughter!

Jane confessed herself a little surprised at the match; but she said
less of her astonishment than of her earnest desire for their happiness;
nor could Elizabeth persuade her to consider it as improbable. Kitty and
Lydia were far from envying Miss Lucas, for Mr. Collins was only a
clergyman; and it affected them in no other way than as a piece of news
to spread at Meryton.

Lady Lucas could not be insensible of triumph on being able to retort on
Mrs. Bennet the comfort of having a daughter well married; and she
called at Longbourn rather oftener than usual to say how happy she was,
though Mrs. Bennet's sour looks and ill-natured remarks might have been
enough to drive happiness away.

Between Elizabeth and Charlotte there was a restraint which kept them
mutually silent on the subject; and Elizabeth felt persuaded that no
real confidence could ever subsist between them again. Her
disappointment in Charlotte made her turn with fonder regard to her
sister, of whose rectitude and delicacy she was sure her opinion could
never be shaken, and for whose happiness she grew daily more anxious, as
Bingley had now been gone a week, and nothing was heard of his return.

Jane had sent Caroline an early answer to her letter, and was counting
the days till she might reasonably hope to hear again. The promised
letter of thanks from Mr. Collins arrived on Tuesday, addressed to their
father, and written with all the solemnity of gratitude which a
twelvemonth's abode in the family might have prompted. After discharging
his conscience on that head, he proceeded to inform them, with many
rapturous expressions, of his happiness in having obtained the affection
of their amiable neighbour, Miss Lucas, and then explained that it was
merely with the view of enjoying her society that he had been so ready
to close with their kind wish of seeing him again at Longbourn, whither
he hoped to be able to return on Monday fortnight; for Lady Catherine,
he added, so heartily approved his marriage, that she wished it to take
place as soon as possible, which he trusted would be an unanswerable
argument with his amiable Charlotte to name an early day for making him
the happiest of men.

Mr. Collins's return into Hertfordshire was no longer a matter of
pleasure to Mrs. Bennet. On the contrary she was as much disposed to
complain of it as her husband.--It was very strange that he should come
to Longbourn instead of to Lucas Lodge; it was also very inconvenient
and exceedingly troublesome.--She hated having visitors in the house
while her health was so indifferent, and lovers were of all people the
most disagreeable. Such were the gentle murmurs of Mrs. Bennet, and they
gave way only to the greater distress of Mr. Bingley's continued
absence.

Neither Jane nor Elizabeth were comfortable on this subject. Day after
day passed away without bringing any other tidings of him than the
report which shortly prevailed in Meryton of his coming no more to
Netherfield the whole winter; a report which highly incensed Mrs.
Bennet, and which she never failed to contradict as a most scandalous
falsehood.

Even Elizabeth began to fear--not that Bingley was indifferent--but that
his sisters would be successful in keeping him away. Unwilling as she
was to admit an idea so destructive of Jane's happiness, and so
dishonourable to the stability of her lover, she could not prevent its
frequently recurring. The united efforts of his two unfeeling sisters
and of his overpowering friend, assisted by the attractions of Miss
Darcy and the amusements of London, might be too much, she feared, for
the strength of his attachment.

As for Jane, _her_ anxiety under this suspence was, of course, more
painful than Elizabeth's; but whatever she felt she was desirous of
concealing, and between herself and Elizabeth, therefore, the subject
was never alluded to. But as no such delicacy restrained her mother, an
hour seldom passed in which she did not talk of Bingley, express her
impatience for his arrival, or even require Jane to confess that if he
did not come back, she should think herself very ill used. It needed all
Jane's steady mildness to bear these attacks with tolerable
tranquillity.

Mr. Collins returned most punctually on the Monday fortnight, but his
reception at Longbourn was not quite so gracious as it had been on his
first introduction. He was too happy, however, to need much attention;
and luckily for the others, the business of love-making relieved them
from a great deal of his company. The chief of every day was spent by
him at Lucas Lodge, and he sometimes returned to Longbourn only in time
to make an apology for his absence before the family went to bed.

Mrs. Bennet was really in a most pitiable state. The very mention of any
thing concerning the match threw her into an agony of ill humour, and
wherever she went she was sure of hearing it talked of. The sight of
Miss Lucas was odious to her. As her successor in that house, she
regarded her with jealous abhorrence. Whenever Charlotte came to see
them she concluded her to be anticipating the hour of possession; and
whenever she spoke in a low voice to Mr. Collins, was convinced that
they were talking of the Longbourn estate, and resolving to turn herself
and her daughters out of the house, as soon as Mr. Bennet were dead. She
complained bitterly of all this to her husband.

"Indeed, Mr. Bennet," said she, "it is very hard to think that Charlotte
Lucas should ever be mistress of this house, that I should be forced to
make way for _her_, and live to see her take my place in it!"

"My dear, do not give way to such gloomy thoughts. Let us hope for
better things. Let us flatter ourselves that _I_ may be the survivor."

This was not very consoling to Mrs. Bennet, and, therefore, instead of
making any answer, she went on as before,

"I cannot bear to think that they should have all this estate. If it was
not for the entail I should not mind it."

"What should not you mind?"

"I should not mind any thing at all."

"Let us be thankful that you are preserved from a state of such
insensibility."

"I never can be thankful, Mr. Bennet, for any thing about the entail.
How any one could have the conscience to entail away an estate from
one's own daughters I cannot understand; and all for the sake of Mr.
Collins too!--Why should _he_ have it more than anybody else?"

"I leave it to yourself to determine," said Mr. Bennet.


END OF VOL. I.




[Illustration: A VICARAGE HOUSE.]




PRIDE AND PREJUDICE:

A Novel.

In Three Volumes.

By the Author of "Sense and Sensibility."

VOL. II.







London:
Printed for T. Egerton,
Military Library, Whitehall.

 The next day following the Netherfield Ball, Mr. Collins decides to make his play for Elizabeth. He is totally confident that he will be successful, for who could refuse such a suitor who has so much to offer. He asks permission from Mrs. Bennett to speak to Elizabeth alone. She already suspects what is going to happen. The discourse between these two includes some of the most humorous moments in the story. Collins conducts the proposal as if it is a business transaction. He points out his own virtues, his association with the De Bourgh family, and Elizabeth's own insecurity. He advises Elizabeth that he has been spurred on by his patron who charged him to acquire a wife who is a person that is active, useful, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a good way." Elizabeth refuses Collins proposal, but he is undaunted and merely thinks she is being coy. He tells her that it is unthinkable for her to refuse him, but in plain terms Elizabeth says, "You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who would make you so. Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the situation." Finally, Collins realizes that his courtship of Elizabeth is over. Mrs. Bennett is appalled by this situation saying that she will never see her again. Elizabeth is summoned to her father's retreat in the library and he says, An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do." Charlotte Lucas visits the Bennett household and learns of the breakdown of Mr. Collins suit of Elizabeth. She begins spending more time with Collins, and in a few days they are engaged to be married. Elizabeth is annoyed at her friend accepting marriage with someone she doesn't love, but Charlotte has accepted Collins' proposal in order to obtain security. Jane receives a letter from Caroline Bingley advising her that the whole Netherfield household have moved to London for the winter. Jane is greatly disappointed. It is evident that Miss Georgiana Darcy is spending time with Bingley. The news makes Jane despondent, whereas Elizabeth is angry, and suspects Darcy has a role in this development.

