Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
CHAPTER XVIII.
Elizabeth's spirits soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr.Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. ”How couldyou begin?” said she. ”I can comprehend your going on charmingly, whenyou had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the firstplace?”
”I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, whichlaid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before Iknew that I _had_ begun.”
”My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners--my behaviourto _you_ was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoketo you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now be sincere;did you admire me for my impertinence?”
”For the liveliness of your mind, I did.”
”You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less.The fact is, that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officiousattention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speakingand looking, and thinking for _your_ approbation alone. I roused, andinterested you, because I was so unlike _them_. Had you not been reallyamiable you would have hated me for it; but in spite of the pains youtook to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just; andin your heart, you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduouslycourted you. There--I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it;and really, all things considered, I begin to think it perfectlyreasonable. To be sure, you knew no actual good of me--but nobody thinksof _that_ when they fall in love.”
”Was there no good in your affectionate behaviour to Jane, while she wasill at Netherfield?”
”Dearest Jane! who could have done less for her? But make a virtue of itby all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you areto exaggerate them as much as possible; and, in return, it belongs to meto find occasions for teazing and quarrelling with you as often as maybe; and I shall begin directly by asking you what made you so unwillingto come to the point at last. What made you so shy of me, when you firstcalled, and afterwards dined here? Why, especially, when you called, didyou look as if you did not care about me?”
”Because you were grave and silent, and gave me no encouragement.”
”But I was embarrassed.”
”And so was I.”
”You might have talked to me more when you came to dinner.”
”A man who had felt less, might.”
”How unlucky that you should have a reasonable answer to give, and thatI should be so reasonable as to admit it! But I wonder how long you_would_ have gone on, if you had been left to yourself. I wonder whenyou _would_ have spoken, if I had not asked you! My resolution ofthanking you for your kindness to Lydia had certainly great effect. _Toomuch_, I am afraid; for what becomes of the moral, if our comfortsprings from a breach of promise, for I ought not to have mentioned thesubject? This will never do.”
”You need not distress yourself. The moral will be perfectly fair. LadyCatherine's unjustifiable endeavours to separate us, were the means ofremoving all my doubts. I am not indebted for my present happiness toyour eager desire of expressing your gratitude. I was not in a humour towait for any opening of your's. My aunt's intelligence had given mehope, and I was determined at once to know every thing.”
”Lady Catherine has been of infinite use, which ought to make her happy,for she loves to be of use. But tell me, what did you come down toNetherfield for? Was it merely to ride to Longbourn and be embarrassed?or had you intended any more serious consequence?”
”My real purpose was to see _you_, and to judge, if I could, whether Imight ever hope to make you love me. My avowed one, or what I avowed tomyself, was to see whether your sister were still partial to Bingley,and if she were, to make the confession to him which I have since made.”
”Shall you ever have courage to announce to Lady Catherine, what is tobefall her?”
”I am more likely to want time than courage, Elizabeth. But it ought tobe done, and if you will give me a sheet of paper, it shall be donedirectly.”
”And if I had not a letter to write myself, I might sit by you, andadmire the evenness of your writing, as another young lady once did. ButI have an aunt, too, who must not be longer neglected.”
From an unwillingness to confess how much her intimacy with Mr. Darcyhad been over-rated, Elizabeth had never yet answered Mrs. Gardiner'slong letter, but now, having _that_ to communicate which she knew wouldbe most welcome, she was almost ashamed to find, that her uncle and aunthad already lost three days of happiness, and immediately wrote asfollows:
”I would have thanked you before, my dear aunt, as I ought to have done, for your long, kind, satisfactory, detail of particulars; but to say the truth, I was too cross to write. You supposed more than really existed. But _now_ suppose as much as you chuse; give a loose to your fancy, indulge your imagination in every possible flight which the subject will afford, and unless you believe me actually married, you cannot greatly err. You must write again very soon, and praise him a great deal more than you did in your last. I thank you, again and again, for not going to the Lakes. How could I be so silly as to wish it! Your idea of the ponies is delightful. We will go round the Park every day. I am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but not one with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles, I laugh. Mr. Darcy sends you all the love in the world, that he can spare from me. You are all to come to Pemberley at Christmas.
Your's, &c.”
Mr. Darcy's letter to Lady Catherine, was in a different style; andstill different from either, was what Mr. Bennet sent to Mr. Collins, inreply to his last.
”DEAR SIR,
”I must trouble you once more for congratulations. Elizabeth will soon be the wife of Mr. Darcy. Console Lady Catherine as well as you can. But, if I were you, I would stand by the nephew. He has more to give.
”Your's sincerely, &c.”
Miss Bingley's congratulations to her brother, on his approachingmarriage, were all that was affectionate and insincere. She wrote evento Jane on the occasion, to express her delight, and repeat all herformer professions of regard. Jane was not deceived, but she wasaffected; and though feeling no reliance on her, could not help writingher a much kinder answer than she knew was deserved.
The joy which Miss Darcy expressed on receiving similar information, wasas sincere as her brother's in sending it. Four sides of paper wereinsufficient to contain all her delight, and all her earnest desire ofbeing loved by her sister.
Before any answer could arrive from Mr. Collins, or any congratulationsto Elizabeth, from his wife, the Longbourn family heard that theCollinses were come themselves to Lucas lodge. The reason of this suddenremoval was soon evident. Lady Catherine had been rendered soexceedingly angry by the contents of her nephew's letter, thatCharlotte, really rejoicing in the match, was anxious to get away tillthe storm was blown over. At such a moment, the arrival of her friendwas a sincere pleasure to Elizabeth, though in the course of theirmeetings she must sometimes think the pleasure dearly bought, when shesaw Mr. Darcy exposed to all the parading and obsequious civility of herhusband. He bore it however with admirable calmness. He could evenlisten to Sir William Lucas, when he complimented him on carrying awaythe brightest jewel of the country, and expressed his hopes of their allmeeting frequently at St. James's, with very decent composure. If he didshrug his shoulders, it was not till Sir William was out of sight.
Mrs. Philips's vulgarity was another, and perhaps a greater tax on hisforbearance; and though Mrs. Philips, as well as her sister, stood intoo much awe of him to speak with the familiarity which Bingley's goodhumour encouraged, yet, whenever she _did_ speak, she must be vulgar.Nor was her respect for him, though it made her more quiet, at alllikely to make her more elegant. Elizabeth did all she could, to shieldhim from the frequent notice of either, and was ever anxious to keep himto herself, and to those of her family with whom he might conversewithout mortification; and though the uncomfortable feelings arisingfrom all this took from the season of courtship much of its pleasure, itadded to the hope of the future; and she looked forward with delight tothe time when they should be removed from society so little pleasing toeither, to all the comfort and elegance of their family party atPemberley.
Elizabeth's spirits soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr.Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. ”How couldyou begin?” said she. ”I can comprehend your going on charmingly, whenyou had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the firstplace?”
”I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, whichlaid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before Iknew that I _had_ begun.”
”My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners--my behaviourto _you_ was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoketo you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now be sincere;did you admire me for my impertinence?”
”For the liveliness of your mind, I did.”
”You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less.The fact is, that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officiousattention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speakingand looking, and thinking for _your_ approbation alone. I roused, andinterested you, because I was so unlike _them_. Had you not been reallyamiable you would have hated me for it; but in spite of the pains youtook to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just; andin your heart, you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduouslycourted you. There--I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it;and really, all things considered, I begin to think it perfectlyreasonable. To be sure, you knew no actual good of me--but nobody thinksof _that_ when they fall in love.”
”Was there no good in your affectionate behaviour to Jane, while she wasill at Netherfield?”
”Dearest Jane! who could have done less for her? But make a virtue of itby all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you areto exaggerate them as much as possible; and, in return, it belongs to meto find occasions for teazing and quarrelling with you as often as maybe; and I shall begin directly by asking you what made you so unwillingto come to the point at last. What made you so shy of me, when you firstcalled, and afterwards dined here? Why, especially, when you called, didyou look as if you did not care about me?”
”Because you were grave and silent, and gave me no encouragement.”
”But I was embarrassed.”
”And so was I.”
”You might have talked to me more when you came to dinner.”
”A man who had felt less, might.”
”How unlucky that you should have a reasonable answer to give, and thatI should be so reasonable as to admit it! But I wonder how long you_would_ have gone on, if you had been left to yourself. I wonder whenyou _would_ have spoken, if I had not asked you! My resolution ofthanking you for your kindness to Lydia had certainly great effect. _Toomuch_, I am afraid; for what becomes of the moral, if our comfortsprings from a breach of promise, for I ought not to have mentioned thesubject? This will never do.”
”You need not distress yourself. The moral will be perfectly fair. LadyCatherine's unjustifiable endeavours to separate us, were the means ofremoving all my doubts. I am not indebted for my present happiness toyour eager desire of expressing your gratitude. I was not in a humour towait for any opening of your's. My aunt's intelligence had given mehope, and I was determined at once to know every thing.”
”Lady Catherine has been of infinite use, which ought to make her happy,for she loves to be of use. But tell me, what did you come down toNetherfield for? Was it merely to ride to Longbourn and be embarrassed?or had you intended any more serious consequence?”
”My real purpose was to see _you_, and to judge, if I could, whether Imight ever hope to make you love me. My avowed one, or what I avowed tomyself, was to see whether your sister were still partial to Bingley,and if she were, to make the confession to him which I have since made.”
”Shall you ever have courage to announce to Lady Catherine, what is tobefall her?”
”I am more likely to want time than courage, Elizabeth. But it ought tobe done, and if you will give me a sheet of paper, it shall be donedirectly.”
”And if I had not a letter to write myself, I might sit by you, andadmire the evenness of your writing, as another young lady once did. ButI have an aunt, too, who must not be longer neglected.”
From an unwillingness to confess how much her intimacy with Mr. Darcyhad been over-rated, Elizabeth had never yet answered Mrs. Gardiner'slong letter, but now, having _that_ to communicate which she knew wouldbe most welcome, she was almost ashamed to find, that her uncle and aunthad already lost three days of happiness, and immediately wrote asfollows:
”I would have thanked you before, my dear aunt, as I ought to have done, for your long, kind, satisfactory, detail of particulars; but to say the truth, I was too cross to write. You supposed more than really existed. But _now_ suppose as much as you chuse; give a loose to your fancy, indulge your imagination in every possible flight which the subject will afford, and unless you believe me actually married, you cannot greatly err. You must write again very soon, and praise him a great deal more than you did in your last. I thank you, again and again, for not going to the Lakes. How could I be so silly as to wish it! Your idea of the ponies is delightful. We will go round the Park every day. I am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but not one with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles, I laugh. Mr. Darcy sends you all the love in the world, that he can spare from me. You are all to come to Pemberley at Christmas.
Your's, &c.”
Mr. Darcy's letter to Lady Catherine, was in a different style; andstill different from either, was what Mr. Bennet sent to Mr. Collins, inreply to his last.
”DEAR SIR,
”I must trouble you once more for congratulations. Elizabeth will soon be the wife of Mr. Darcy. Console Lady Catherine as well as you can. But, if I were you, I would stand by the nephew. He has more to give.
”Your's sincerely, &c.”
Miss Bingley's congratulations to her brother, on his approachingmarriage, were all that was affectionate and insincere. She wrote evento Jane on the occasion, to express her delight, and repeat all herformer professions of regard. Jane was not deceived, but she wasaffected; and though feeling no reliance on her, could not help writingher a much kinder answer than she knew was deserved.
The joy which Miss Darcy expressed on receiving similar information, wasas sincere as her brother's in sending it. Four sides of paper wereinsufficient to contain all her delight, and all her earnest desire ofbeing loved by her sister.
Before any answer could arrive from Mr. Collins, or any congratulationsto Elizabeth, from his wife, the Longbourn family heard that theCollinses were come themselves to Lucas lodge. The reason of this suddenremoval was soon evident. Lady Catherine had been rendered soexceedingly angry by the contents of her nephew's letter, thatCharlotte, really rejoicing in the match, was anxious to get away tillthe storm was blown over. At such a moment, the arrival of her friendwas a sincere pleasure to Elizabeth, though in the course of theirmeetings she must sometimes think the pleasure dearly bought, when shesaw Mr. Darcy exposed to all the parading and obsequious civility of herhusband. He bore it however with admirable calmness. He could evenlisten to Sir William Lucas, when he complimented him on carrying awaythe brightest jewel of the country, and expressed his hopes of their allmeeting frequently at St. James's, with very decent composure. If he didshrug his shoulders, it was not till Sir William was out of sight.
Mrs. Philips's vulgarity was another, and perhaps a greater tax on hisforbearance; and though Mrs. Philips, as well as her sister, stood intoo much awe of him to speak with the familiarity which Bingley's goodhumour encouraged, yet, whenever she _did_ speak, she must be vulgar.Nor was her respect for him, though it made her more quiet, at alllikely to make her more elegant. Elizabeth did all she could, to shieldhim from the frequent notice of either, and was ever anxious to keep himto herself, and to those of her family with whom he might conversewithout mortification; and though the uncomfortable feelings arisingfrom all this took from the season of courtship much of its pleasure, itadded to the hope of the future; and she looked forward with delight tothe time when they should be removed from society so little pleasing toeither, to all the comfort and elegance of their family party atPemberley.