“I have received a letter this morning that has astonished me exceedingly.As it principally concerns yourself, you ought to know its contents.I did not know before that I had _two_ daughters on the brink of matrimony.Let me congratulate you on a very important conquest.”
The colour now rushed into Elizabeth’s cheeks in the instantaneous conviction of its being a letter from the nephew,instead of the aunt; and she was undetermined whether most to be pleased that he explained himself at all,or offended that his letter was not rather addressed to herself, when her father continued,--
“You look conscious. Young ladies have great penetration in such matters as these;but I think I may defy even _your_ sagacity to discover the name of your admirer. This letter is from Mr. Collins.”
“From Mr. Collins!and what can _he_ have to say?”
“Something very much to the purpose, of course.He begins with congratulations on the approaching nuptials of my eldest daughter, of which,it seems, he has been told by some of the good-natured, gossiping Lucases.I shall not sport with your impatience by reading what he says on that point.What relates to yourself is as follows:--‘Having thus offered you the sincere congratulations of Mrs.Collins and myself on this happy event, let me now add a short hint on the subject of another,of which we have been advertised by the same authority. Your daughter Elizabeth, it is presumed,will not long bear the name of Bennet, after her eldest sister has resigned it;and the chosen partner of her fate may be reasonably looked up to as one of the most illustrious personages in this land.’ Can you possibly guess, Lizzy, who is meant by this?‘This young gentleman is blessed, in a peculiar way,with everything the heart of mortal can most desire,--splendid property, noble kindred,and extensive patronage. Yet, in spite of all these temptations, let me warn my cousin Elizabeth,and yourself, of what evils you may incur by a precipitate closure with this gentleman’s proposals,which, of course, you will be inclined to take immediate advantage of.’ Have you any idea, Lizzy, who this gentleman is?But now it comes out. ‘My motive for cautioning you is as follows:--We have reason to imagine that his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh,does not look on the match with a friendly eye.’ _Mr. Darcy_, you see, is the man!Now, Lizzy, I think I _have_ surprised you. Could he, or the Lucases, have pitched on any man,within the circle of our acquaintance, whose name would have given the lie more effectually to what they related?Mr. Darcy, who never looks at any woman but to see a blemish,and who probably never looked at _you_ in his life!It is admirable!”
Elizabeth tried to join in her father’s pleasantry, but could only force one most reluctant smile.Never had his wit been directed in a manner so little agreeable to her.
“Are you not diverted?”
“Oh, yes. Pray read on.”
“‘After mentioning the likelihood of this marriage to her Ladyship last night, she immediately,with her usual condescension, expressed what she felt on the occasion; when it became apparent,that, on the score of some family objections on the part of my cousin,she would never give her consent to what she termed so disgraceful a match.I thought it my duty to give the speediest intelligence of this to my cousin,that she and her noble admirer may be aware of what they are about,and not run hastily into a marriage which has not been properly sanctioned.’ Mr. Collins, moreover,adds, ‘I am truly rejoiced that my cousin Lydia’s sad business has been so well hushed up,and am only concerned that their living together before the marriage took place should be so generally known.I must not, however, neglect the duties of my station, or refrain from declaring my amazement,at hearing that you received the young couple into your house as soon as they were married.It was an encouragement of vice; and had I been the rector of Longbourn,I should very strenuously have opposed it. You ought certainly to forgive them as a Christian,but never to admit them in your sight, or allow their names to be mentioned in your hearing.’ _That_ is his notion of Christian forgiveness!The rest of his letter is only about his dear Charlotte’s situation,and his expectation of a young olive-branch. But, Lizzy, you look as if you did not enjoy it.You are not going to be _missish_, I hope, and pretend to be affronted at an idle report.For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?”
“Oh,” cried Elizabeth, “I am exceedingly diverted. But it is so strange!”
“Yes, _that_ is what makes it amusing. Had they fixed on any other man it would have been nothing;but _his_ perfect indifference and _your_ pointed dislike make it so delightfully absurd!Much as I abominate writing, I would not give up Mr. Collins’s correspondence for any consideration.Nay, when I read a letter of his, I cannot help giving him the preference even over Wickham,much as I value the impudence and hypocrisy of my son-in-law. And pray, Lizzy,what said Lady Catherine about this report?Did she call to refuse her consent?”
To this question his daughter replied only with a laugh;and as it had been asked without the least suspicion, she was not distressed by his repeating it.Elizabeth had never been more at a loss to make her feelings appear what they were not.It was necessary to laugh when she would rather have cried.Her father had most cruelly mortified her by what he said of Mr. Darcy’s indifference;and she could do nothing but wonder at such a want of penetration, or fear that, perhaps,instead of his seeing too _little_, she might have fancied too _much_.
[Illustration:
“The efforts of his aunt”
[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
CHAPTER LVIII.
[Illustration]
Instead of receiving any such letter of excuse from his friend, as Elizabeth half expected Mr.Bingley to do, he was able to bring Darcy with him to Longbourn before many days had passed after Lady Catherine’s visit.The gentlemen arrived early; and, before Mrs.Bennet had time to tell him of their having seen his aunt,of which her daughter sat in momentary dread, Bingley, who wanted to be alone with Jane,proposed their all walking out. It was agreed to. Mrs. Bennet was not in the habit of walking,Mary could never spare time, but the remaining five set off together. Bingley and Jane, however,soon allowed the others to outstrip them. They lagged behind, while Elizabeth, Kitty,and Darcy were to entertain each other. Very little was said by either;Kitty was too much afraid of him to talk; Elizabeth was secretly forming a desperate resolution;and, perhaps, he might be doing the same.
They walked towards the Lucases’, because Kitty wished to call upon Maria;and as Elizabeth saw no occasion for making it a general concern,when Kitty left them she went boldly on with him alone.Now was the moment for her resolution to be executed; and while her courage was high, she immediately said,--
“Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature,and for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings care not how much I may be wounding yours.I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my poor sister.Ever since I have known it I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it.Were it known to the rest of my family I should not have merely my own gratitude to express.”
“I am sorry, exceedingly sorry,” replied Darcy, in a tone of surprise and emotion,“that you have ever been informed of what may, in a mistaken light, have given you uneasiness.I did not think Mrs. Gardiner was so little to be trusted.”
“You must not blame my aunt. Lydia’s thoughtlessness first betrayed to me that you had been concerned in the matter;and, of course, I could not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again,in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced you to take so much trouble,and bear so many mortifications, for the sake of discovering them.”
“If you _will_ thank me,” he replied, “let it be for yourself alone.That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on,I shall not attempt to deny. But your _family_ owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of _you_.”
Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, her companion added,“You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April,tell me so at once. _My_ affections and wishes are unchanged;but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.”
Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation,now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not very fluently,gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone so material a change since the period to which he alluded,as to make her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances.The happiness which this reply produced was such as he had probably never felt before;and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do.Had Elizabeth been able to encounter his eyes,she might have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight diffused over his face became him:but though she could not look she could listen; and he told her of feelings which,in proving of what importance she was to him, made his affection every moment more valuable.
They walked on without knowing in what direction. There was too much to be thought, and felt,and said, for attention to any other objects.She soon learnt that they were indebted for their present good understanding to the efforts of his aunt,who _did_ call on him in her return through London, and there relate her journey to Longbourn,its motive, and the substance of her conversation with Elizabeth;dwelling emphatically on every expression of the latter, which, in her Ladyship’s apprehension,peculiarly denoted her perverseness and assurance,in the belief that such a relation must assist her endeavours to obtain that promise from her nephew which _she_ had refused to give.But, unluckily for her Ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise.
“It taught me to hope,” said he, “as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before.I knew enough of your disposition to be certain, that had you been absolutely,irrevocably decided against me, you would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine frankly and openly. ”
Elizabeth coloured and laughed as she replied, “Yes,you know enough of my _frankness_ to believe me capable of _that_.After abusing you so abominably to your face,I could have no scruple in abusing you to all your relations.”
“What did you say of me that I did not deserve?For though your accusations were ill-founded, formed on mistaken premises,my behaviour to you at the time had merited the severest reproof. It was unpardonable.I cannot think of it without abhorrence.”
“We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that evening,” said Elizabeth.“The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, will be irreproachable; but since then we have both, I hope, improved in civility.”
“I cannot be so easily reconciled to myself. The recollection of what I then said, of my conduct,my manners, my expressions during the whole of it, is now, and has been many months,inexpressibly painful to me. Your reproof, so well applied, I shall never forget:‘Had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.’ Those were your words. You know not,you can scarcely conceive, how they have tortured me; though it was some time, I confess,before I was reasonable enough to allow their justice.”
“I was certainly very far from expecting them to make so strong an impression.I had not the smallest idea of their being ever felt in such a way.”
“I can easily believe it. You thought me then devoid of every proper feeling, I am sure you did.The turn of your countenance I shall never forget,as you said that I could not have addressed you in any possible way that would induce you to accept me. ”
“Oh, do not repeat what I then said. These recollections will not do at all.I assure you that I have long been most heartily ashamed of it.”
Darcy mentioned his letter. “Did it,” said he,--“did it _soon_ make you think better of me?Did you, on reading it, give any credit to its contents?”
She explained what its effects on her had been,and how gradually all her former prejudices had been removed.
“I knew,” said he, “that what I wrote must give you pain, but it was necessary.I hope you have destroyed the letter. There was one part, especially the opening of it,which I should dread your having the power of reading again.I can remember some expressions which might justly make you hate me.”
“The letter shall certainly be burnt, if you believe it essential to the preservation of my regard;but, though we have both reason to think my opinions not entirely unalterable, they are not,I hope, quite so easily changed as that implies.”
“When I wrote that letter,” replied Darcy, “I believed myself perfectly calm and cool;but I am since convinced that it was written in a dreadful bitterness of spirit.”
“The letter, perhaps, began in bitterness, but it did not end so. The adieu is charity itself.But think no more of the letter. The feelings of the person who wrote and the person who received it are now so widely different from what they were then,that every unpleasant circumstance attending it ought to be forgotten.You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure. ”
“I cannot give you credit for any philosophy of the kind._Your_ retrospections must be so totally void of reproach,that the contentment arising from them is not of philosophy, but, what is much better,of ignorance. But with _me_, it is not so. Painful recollections will intrude, which cannot,which ought not to be repelled. I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice,though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was _right_,but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles,but left to follow them in pride and conceit.Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only _child_), I was spoiled by my parents, who,though good themselves, (my father particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable,) allowed,encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing,to care for none beyond my own family circle, to think meanly of all the rest of the world,to _wish_ at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was,from eight to eight-and-twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth!What do I not owe you!You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled.I came to you without a doubt of my reception.You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.”
“Had you then persuaded yourself that I should?”
“Indeed I had. What will you think of my vanity?I believed you to be wishing, expecting my addresses.”
“My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally, I assure you.I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me wrong.How you must have hated me after _that_ evening!”
“Hate you!I was angry, perhaps, at first, but my anger soon began to take a proper direction.”
“I am almost afraid of asking what you thought of me when we met at Pemberley. You blamed me for coming?”
“No, indeed, I felt nothing but surprise.”
“Your surprise could not be greater than _mine_ in being noticed by you.My conscience told me that I deserved no extraordinary politeness,and I confess that I did not expect to receive _more_ than my due.”
“My object _then_,” replied Darcy, “was to show you, by every civility in my power,that I was not so mean as to resent the past; and I hoped to obtain your forgiveness,to lessen your ill opinion, by letting you see that your reproofs had been attended to.How soon any other wishes introduced themselves, I can hardly tell,but I believe in about half an hour after I had seen you.”
He then told her of Georgiana’s delight in her acquaintance,and of her disappointment at its sudden interruption;which naturally leading to the cause of that interruption,she soon learnt that his resolution of following her from Derbyshire in quest of her sister had been formed before he quitted the inn,and that his gravity and thoughtfulness there had arisen from no other struggles than what such a purpose must comprehend.
She expressed her gratitude again, but it was too painful a subject to each to be dwelt on farther.
After walking several miles in a leisurely manner, and too busy to know anything about it,they found at last, on examining their watches, that it was time to be at home.
“What could have become of Mr. Bingley and Jane?” was a wonder which introduced the discussion of _their_ affairs.Darcy was delighted with their engagement; his friend had given him the earliest information of it.
“I must ask whether you were surprised?” said Elizabeth.
“Not at all. When I went away, I felt that it would soon happen.”
“That is to say, you had given your permission. I guessed as much.” And though he exclaimed at the term, she found that it had been pretty much the case.
“On the evening before my going to London,” said he, “I made a confession to him,which I believe I ought to have made long ago.I told him of all that had occurred to make my former interference in his affairs absurd and impertinent.His surprise was great. He had never had the slightest suspicion. I told him, moreover,that I believed myself mistaken in supposing, as I had done,that your sister was indifferent to him;and as I could easily perceive that his attachment to her was unabated,I felt no doubt of their happiness together.”
Elizabeth could not help smiling at his easy manner of directing his friend.
“Did you speak from your own observation,” said she, “when you told him that my sister loved him,or merely from my information last spring?”
“From the former. I had narrowly observed her,during the two visits which I had lately made her here; and I was convinced of her affection.”
“And your assurance of it, I suppose, carried immediate conviction to him.”
“It did. Bingley is most unaffectedly modest.His diffidence had prevented his depending on his own judgment in so anxious a case,but his reliance on mine made everything easy. I was obliged to confess one thing,which for a time, and not unjustly, offended him.I could not allow myself to conceal that your sister had been in town three months last winter,that I had known it, and purposely kept it from him. He was angry. But his anger, I am persuaded,lasted no longer than he remained in any doubt of your sister’s sentiments. He has heartily forgiven me now.”
Elizabeth longed to observe that Mr. Bingley had been a most delightful friend;so easily guided that his worth was invaluable; but she checked herself.She remembered that he had yet to learn to be laughed at, and it was rather too early to begin.In anticipating the happiness of Bingley, which of course was to be inferior only to his own,he continued the conversation till they reached the house. In the hall they parted.
[Illustration:
“Unable to utter a syllable”
[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
CHAPTER LIX.
[Illustration]
“My dear Lizzy, where can you have been walking to?” was a question which Elizabeth received from Jane as soon as she entered the room,and from all the others when they sat down to table. She had only to say in reply,that they had wandered about till she was beyond her own knowledge. She coloured as she spoke;but neither that, nor anything else, awakened a suspicion of the truth.
The evening passed quietly, unmarked by anything extraordinary.The acknowledged lovers talked and laughed; the unacknowledged were silent.Darcy was not of a disposition in which happiness overflows in mirth; and Elizabeth,agitated and confused, rather _knew_ that she was happy than _felt_ herself to be so; for,besides the immediate embarrassment, there were other evils before her.She anticipated what would be felt in the family when her situation became known:she was aware that no one liked him but Jane;and even feared that with the others it was a _dislike_ which not all his fortune and consequence might do away.
At night she opened her heart to Jane. Though suspicion was very far from Miss Bennet’s general habits, she was absolutely incredulous here.
“You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be!Engaged to Mr. Darcy!No, no, you shall not deceive me: I know it to be impossible.”
“This is a wretched beginning, indeed!My sole dependence was on you; and I am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet,indeed, I am in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we are engaged.”
Jane looked at her doubtingly. “Oh, Lizzy!it cannot be. I know how much you dislike him.”
“You know nothing of the matter. _That_ is all to be forgot.Perhaps I did not always love him so well as I do now;but in such cases as these a good memory is unpardonable.This is the last time I shall ever remember it myself.”
Miss Bennet still looked all amazement. Elizabeth again, and more seriously, assured her of its truth.
“Good heaven!can it be really so?Yet now I must believe you,” cried Jane. “My dear, dear Lizzy, I would, I do congratulate you;but are you certain--forgive the question--are you quite certain that you can be happy with him?”
“There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already that we are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased, Jane?Shall you like to have such a brother?”
“Very, very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more delight. But we considered it,we talked of it as impossible. And do you really love him quite well enough?Oh, Lizzy!do anything rather than marry without affection.Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought to do?”
“Oh, yes!You will only think I feel _more_ than I ought to do when I tell you all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why, I must confess that I love him better than I do Bingley. I am afraid you will be angry.”
“My dearest sister, now be, _be_ serious. I want to talk very seriously.Let me know everything that I am to know without delay.Will you tell me how long you have loved him?”
“It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began;but I believe I must date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds at Pemberley.”
Another entreaty that she would be serious, however, produced the desired effect;and she soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances of attachment. When convinced on that article,Miss Bennet had nothing further to wish.
“Now I am quite happy,” said she, “for you will be as happy as myself. I always had a value for him.Were it for nothing but his love of you, I must always have esteemed him; but now,as Bingley’s friend and your husband, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. But,Lizzy, you have been very sly, very reserved with me.How little did you tell me of what passed at Pemberley and Lambton!I owe all that I know of it to another, not to you.”
Elizabeth told her the motives of her secrecy. She had been unwilling to mention Bingley;and the unsettled state of her own feelings had made her equally avoid the name of his friend:but now she would no longer conceal from her his share in Lydia’s marriage. All was acknowledged,and half the night spent in conversation.
“Good gracious!” cried Mrs. Bennet, as she stood at a window the next morning, “if that disagreeable Mr.Darcy is not coming here again with our dear Bingley!What can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always coming here?I had no notion but he would go a-shooting, or something or other,and not disturb us with his company. What shall we do with him?Lizzy, you must walk out with him again, that he may not be in Bingley’s way.”
Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at so convenient a proposal;yet was really vexed that her mother should be always giving him such an epithet.
As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at her so expressively, and shook hands with such warmth,as left no doubt of his good information; and he soon afterwards said aloud, “Mrs. Bennet,have you no more lanes hereabouts in which Lizzy may lose her way again to-day?”
“I advise Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty,” said Mrs. Bennet, “to walk to Oakham Mount this morning.It is a nice long walk, and Mr. Darcy has never seen the view.”
“It may do very well for the others,” replied Mr. Bingley;“but I am sure it will be too much for Kitty. Won’t it, Kitty?”
Kitty owned that she had rather stay at home.Darcy professed a great curiosity to see the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently consented.As she went upstairs to get ready, Mrs. Bennet followed her, saying,--
“I am quite sorry, Lizzy, that you should be forced to have that disagreeable man all to yourself;but I hope you will not mind it. It is all for Jane’s sake, you know;and there is no occasion for talking to him except just now and then;so do not put yourself to inconvenience.”
During their walk, it was resolved that Mr.Bennet’s consent should be asked in the course of the evening:Elizabeth reserved to herself the application for her mother’s.She could not determine how her mother would take it;sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeur would be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man;but whether she were violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it,it was certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit to her sense;and she could no more bear that Mr. Darcy should hear the first raptures of her joy,than the first vehemence of her disapprobation.
In the evening, soon after Mr. Bennet withdrew to the library, she saw Mr.Darcy rise also and follow him, and her agitation on seeing it was extreme.She did not fear her father’s opposition, but he was going to be made unhappy,and that it should be through her means; that _she_, his favourite child,should be distressing him by her choice,should be filling him with fears and regrets in disposing of her, was a wretched reflection,and she sat in misery till Mr. Darcy appeared again, when, looking at him,she was a little relieved by his smile.In a few minutes he approached the table where she was sitting with Kitty; and,while pretending to admire her work, said in a whisper, “Go to your father;he wants you in the library.” She was gone directly.
Her father was walking about the room, looking grave and anxious. “Lizzy,” said he, “what are you doing?Are you out of your senses to be accepting this man?Have not you always hated him?”
How earnestly did she then wish that her former opinions had been more reasonable, her expressions more moderate!It would have spared her from explanations and professions which it was exceedingly awkward to give;but they were now necessary, and she assured him, with some confusion, of her attachment to Mr. Darcy.
“Or, in other words, you are determined to have him. He is rich, to be sure,and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than Jane. But will they make you happy?”
“Have you any other objection,” said Elizabeth, “than your belief of my indifference?”
“None at all. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man;but this would be nothing if you really liked him.”
“I do, I do like him,” she replied, with tears in her eyes; “I love him.Indeed he has no improper pride. He is perfectly amiable. You do not know what he really is;then pray do not pain me by speaking of him in such terms.”
“Lizzy,” said her father, “I have given him my consent. He is the kind of man, indeed,to whom I should never dare refuse anything, which he condescended to ask. I now give it to _you_,if you are resolved on having him. But let me advise you to think better of it.I know your disposition, Lizzy. I know that you could be neither happy nor respectable,unless you truly esteemed your husband, unless you looked up to him as a superior.Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage.You could scarcely escape discredit and misery. My child,let me not have the grief of seeing _you_ unable to respect your partner in life. You know not what you are about.”
Elizabeth, still more affected, was earnest and solemn in her reply; and, at length,by repeated assurances that Mr. Darcy was really the object of her choice,by explaining the gradual change which her estimation of him had undergone,relating her absolute certainty that his affection was not the work of a day,but had stood the test of many months’ suspense,and enumerating with energy all his good qualities, she did conquer her father’s incredulity, and reconcile him to the match.
“Well, my dear,” said he, when she ceased speaking, “I have no more to say. If this be the case,he deserves you. I could not have parted with you, my Lizzy, to anyone less worthy.”
To complete the favourable impression, she then told him what Mr.Darcy had voluntarily done for Lydia. He heard her with astonishment.
“This is an evening of wonders, indeed!And so, Darcy did everything; made up the match, gave the money, paid the fellow’s debts, and got him his commission!So much the better. It will save me a world of trouble and economy. Had it been your uncle’s doing,I must and _would_ have paid him; but these violent young lovers carry everything their own way.I shall offer to pay him to-morrow, he will rant and storm about his love for you,and there will be an end of the matter.”