Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
CHAPTER IV.
With no greater events than these in the Longbourn family, and otherwisediversified by little beyond the walks to Meryton, sometimes dirty andsometimes cold, did January and February pass away. March was to takeElizabeth to Hunsford. She had not at first thought very seriously ofgoing thither; but Charlotte, she soon found, was depending on the plan,and she gradually learned to consider it herself with greater pleasureas well as greater certainty. Absence had increased her desire of seeingCharlotte again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. Collins. There wasnovelty in the scheme, and as, with such a mother and suchuncompanionable sisters, home could not be faultless, a little changewas not unwelcome for its own sake. The journey would moreover give hera peep at Jane; and, in short, as the time drew near, she would havebeen very sorry for any delay. Every thing, however, went on smoothly,and was finally settled according to Charlotte's first sketch. She wasto accompany Sir William and his second daughter. The improvement ofspending a night in London was added in time, and the plan becameperfect as plan could be.
The only pain was in leaving her father, who would certainly miss her,and who, when it came to the point, so little liked her going, that hetold her to write to him, and almost promised to answer her letter.
The farewell between herself and Mr. Wickham was perfectly friendly; onhis side even more. His present pursuit could not make him forget thatElizabeth had been the first to excite and to deserve his attention, thefirst to listen and to pity, the first to be admired; and in his mannerof bidding her adieu, wishing her every enjoyment, reminding her of whatshe was to expect in Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and trusting theiropinion of her--their opinion of every body--would always coincide,there was a solicitude, an interest which she felt must ever attach herto him with a most sincere regard; and she parted from him convinced,that whether married or single, he must always be her model of theamiable and pleasing.
Her fellow-travellers the next day, were not of a kind to make her thinkhim less agreeable. Sir William Lucas, and his daughter Maria, a goodhumoured girl, but as empty-headed as himself, had nothing to say thatcould be worth hearing, and were listened to with about as much delightas the rattle of the chaise. Elizabeth loved absurdities, but she hadknown Sir William's too long. He could tell her nothing new of thewonders of his presentation and knighthood; and his civilities were wornout like his information.
It was a journey of only twenty-four miles, and they began it so earlyas to be in Gracechurch-street by noon. As they drove to Mr. Gardiner'sdoor, Jane was at a drawing-room window watching their arrival; whenthey entered the passage she was there to welcome them, and Elizabeth,looking earnestly in her face, was pleased to see it healthful andlovely as ever. On the stairs were a troop of little boys and girls,whose eagerness for their cousin's appearance would not allow them towait in the drawing-room, and whose shyness, as they had not seen herfor a twelvemonth, prevented their coming lower. All was joy andkindness. The day passed most pleasantly away; the morning in bustle andshopping, and the evening at one of the theatres.
Elizabeth then contrived to sit by her aunt. Their first subject was hersister; and she was more grieved than astonished to hear, in reply toher minute enquiries, that though Jane always struggled to support herspirits, there were periods of dejection. It was reasonable, however, tohope, that they would not continue long. Mrs. Gardiner gave her theparticulars also of Miss Bingley's visit in Gracechurch-street, andrepeated conversations occurring at different times between Jane andherself, which proved that the former had, from her heart, given up theacquaintance.
Mrs. Gardiner then rallied her niece on Wickham's desertion, andcomplimented her on bearing it so well.
”But, my dear Elizabeth,” she added, ”what sort of girl is Miss King? Ishould be sorry to think our friend mercenary.”
”Pray, my dear aunt, what is the difference in matrimonial affairs,between the mercenary and the prudent motive? Where does discretion end,and avarice begin? Last Christmas you were afraid of his marrying me,because it would be imprudent; and now, because he is trying to get agirl with only ten thousand pounds, you want to find out that he ismercenary.”
”If you will only tell me what sort of girl Miss King is, I shall knowwhat to think.”
”She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I know no harm of her.”
”But he paid her not the smallest attention, till her grandfather'sdeath made her mistress of this fortune.”
”No--why should he? If it was not allowable for him to gain _my_affections, because I had no money, what occasion could there be formaking love to a girl whom he did not care about, and who was equallypoor?”
”But there seems indelicacy in directing his attentions towards her, sosoon after this event.”
”A man in distressed circumstances has not time for all those elegantdecorums which other people may observe. If _she_ does not object to it,why should _we_?”
”_Her_ not objecting, does not justify _him_. It only shews her beingdeficient in something herself--sense or feeling.”
”Well,” cried Elizabeth, ”have it as you choose. _He_ shall bemercenary, and _she_ shall be foolish.”
”No, Lizzy, that is what I do _not_ choose. I should be sorry, you know,to think ill of a young man who has lived so long in Derbyshire.”
”Oh! if that is all, I have a very poor opinion of young men who live inDerbyshire; and their intimate friends who live in Hertfordshire are notmuch better. I am sick of them all. Thank Heaven! I am going to-morrowwhere I shall find a man who has not one agreeable quality, who hasneither manner nor sense to recommend him. Stupid men are the only onesworth knowing, after all.”
”Take care, Lizzy; that speech savours strongly of disappointment.”
Before they were separated by the conclusion of the play, she had theunexpected happiness of an invitation to accompany her uncle and aunt ina tour of pleasure which they proposed taking in the summer.
”We have not quite determined how far it shall carry us,” said Mrs.Gardiner, ”but perhaps to the Lakes.”
No scheme could have been more agreeable to Elizabeth, and heracceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful. ”My dear, dearaunt,” she rapturously cried, ”what delight! what felicity! You give mefresh life and vigour. Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What are mento rocks and mountains? Oh! what hours of transport we shall spend! Andwhen we _do_ return, it shall not be like other travellers, withoutbeing able to give one accurate idea of any thing. We _will_ know wherewe have gone--we _will_ recollect what we have seen. Lakes, mountains,and rivers, shall not be jumbled together in our imaginations; nor, whenwe attempt to describe any particular scene, will we begin quarrellingabout its relative situation. Let _our_ first effusions be lessinsupportable than those of the generality of travellers.”
With no greater events than these in the Longbourn family, and otherwisediversified by little beyond the walks to Meryton, sometimes dirty andsometimes cold, did January and February pass away. March was to takeElizabeth to Hunsford. She had not at first thought very seriously ofgoing thither; but Charlotte, she soon found, was depending on the plan,and she gradually learned to consider it herself with greater pleasureas well as greater certainty. Absence had increased her desire of seeingCharlotte again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. Collins. There wasnovelty in the scheme, and as, with such a mother and suchuncompanionable sisters, home could not be faultless, a little changewas not unwelcome for its own sake. The journey would moreover give hera peep at Jane; and, in short, as the time drew near, she would havebeen very sorry for any delay. Every thing, however, went on smoothly,and was finally settled according to Charlotte's first sketch. She wasto accompany Sir William and his second daughter. The improvement ofspending a night in London was added in time, and the plan becameperfect as plan could be.
The only pain was in leaving her father, who would certainly miss her,and who, when it came to the point, so little liked her going, that hetold her to write to him, and almost promised to answer her letter.
The farewell between herself and Mr. Wickham was perfectly friendly; onhis side even more. His present pursuit could not make him forget thatElizabeth had been the first to excite and to deserve his attention, thefirst to listen and to pity, the first to be admired; and in his mannerof bidding her adieu, wishing her every enjoyment, reminding her of whatshe was to expect in Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and trusting theiropinion of her--their opinion of every body--would always coincide,there was a solicitude, an interest which she felt must ever attach herto him with a most sincere regard; and she parted from him convinced,that whether married or single, he must always be her model of theamiable and pleasing.
Her fellow-travellers the next day, were not of a kind to make her thinkhim less agreeable. Sir William Lucas, and his daughter Maria, a goodhumoured girl, but as empty-headed as himself, had nothing to say thatcould be worth hearing, and were listened to with about as much delightas the rattle of the chaise. Elizabeth loved absurdities, but she hadknown Sir William's too long. He could tell her nothing new of thewonders of his presentation and knighthood; and his civilities were wornout like his information.
It was a journey of only twenty-four miles, and they began it so earlyas to be in Gracechurch-street by noon. As they drove to Mr. Gardiner'sdoor, Jane was at a drawing-room window watching their arrival; whenthey entered the passage she was there to welcome them, and Elizabeth,looking earnestly in her face, was pleased to see it healthful andlovely as ever. On the stairs were a troop of little boys and girls,whose eagerness for their cousin's appearance would not allow them towait in the drawing-room, and whose shyness, as they had not seen herfor a twelvemonth, prevented their coming lower. All was joy andkindness. The day passed most pleasantly away; the morning in bustle andshopping, and the evening at one of the theatres.
Elizabeth then contrived to sit by her aunt. Their first subject was hersister; and she was more grieved than astonished to hear, in reply toher minute enquiries, that though Jane always struggled to support herspirits, there were periods of dejection. It was reasonable, however, tohope, that they would not continue long. Mrs. Gardiner gave her theparticulars also of Miss Bingley's visit in Gracechurch-street, andrepeated conversations occurring at different times between Jane andherself, which proved that the former had, from her heart, given up theacquaintance.
Mrs. Gardiner then rallied her niece on Wickham's desertion, andcomplimented her on bearing it so well.
”But, my dear Elizabeth,” she added, ”what sort of girl is Miss King? Ishould be sorry to think our friend mercenary.”
”Pray, my dear aunt, what is the difference in matrimonial affairs,between the mercenary and the prudent motive? Where does discretion end,and avarice begin? Last Christmas you were afraid of his marrying me,because it would be imprudent; and now, because he is trying to get agirl with only ten thousand pounds, you want to find out that he ismercenary.”
”If you will only tell me what sort of girl Miss King is, I shall knowwhat to think.”
”She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I know no harm of her.”
”But he paid her not the smallest attention, till her grandfather'sdeath made her mistress of this fortune.”
”No--why should he? If it was not allowable for him to gain _my_affections, because I had no money, what occasion could there be formaking love to a girl whom he did not care about, and who was equallypoor?”
”But there seems indelicacy in directing his attentions towards her, sosoon after this event.”
”A man in distressed circumstances has not time for all those elegantdecorums which other people may observe. If _she_ does not object to it,why should _we_?”
”_Her_ not objecting, does not justify _him_. It only shews her beingdeficient in something herself--sense or feeling.”
”Well,” cried Elizabeth, ”have it as you choose. _He_ shall bemercenary, and _she_ shall be foolish.”
”No, Lizzy, that is what I do _not_ choose. I should be sorry, you know,to think ill of a young man who has lived so long in Derbyshire.”
”Oh! if that is all, I have a very poor opinion of young men who live inDerbyshire; and their intimate friends who live in Hertfordshire are notmuch better. I am sick of them all. Thank Heaven! I am going to-morrowwhere I shall find a man who has not one agreeable quality, who hasneither manner nor sense to recommend him. Stupid men are the only onesworth knowing, after all.”
”Take care, Lizzy; that speech savours strongly of disappointment.”
Before they were separated by the conclusion of the play, she had theunexpected happiness of an invitation to accompany her uncle and aunt ina tour of pleasure which they proposed taking in the summer.
”We have not quite determined how far it shall carry us,” said Mrs.Gardiner, ”but perhaps to the Lakes.”
No scheme could have been more agreeable to Elizabeth, and heracceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful. ”My dear, dearaunt,” she rapturously cried, ”what delight! what felicity! You give mefresh life and vigour. Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What are mento rocks and mountains? Oh! what hours of transport we shall spend! Andwhen we _do_ return, it shall not be like other travellers, withoutbeing able to give one accurate idea of any thing. We _will_ know wherewe have gone--we _will_ recollect what we have seen. Lakes, mountains,and rivers, shall not be jumbled together in our imaginations; nor, whenwe attempt to describe any particular scene, will we begin quarrellingabout its relative situation. Let _our_ first effusions be lessinsupportable than those of the generality of travellers.”