- char_end
- 207792
- char_start
- 200062
- chunk_index
- 28
- chunk_total
- 108
- estimated_tokens
- 1933
- source_file_key
- pride-and-prejudice
- text
- his life.”
Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject. At
that moment Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass
through the set to the other side of the room; but, on perceiving Mr.
Darcy, he stopped, with a bow of superior courtesy, to compliment him on
his dancing and his partner.
“I have been most highly gratified, indeed, my dear sir; such very
superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the
first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not
disgrace you: and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated,
especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Miss Eliza (glancing
at her sister and Bingley), shall take place. What congratulations will
then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy;--but let me not interrupt you, sir.
You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of
that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me.”
[Illustration:
“Such very superior dancing is not
often seen.”
[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy; but Sir
William’s allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and his
eyes were directed, with a very serious expression, towards Bingley and
Jane, who were dancing together. Recovering himself, however, shortly,
he turned to his partner, and said,--
“Sir William’s interruption has made me forget what we were talking
of.”
“I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have
interrupted any two people in the room who had less to say for
themselves. We have tried two or three subjects already without success,
and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine.”
“What think you of books?” said he, smiling.
“Books--oh no!--I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same
feelings.”
“I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be
no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions.”
“No--I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of
something else.”
“The _present_ always occupies you in such scenes--does it?” said he,
with a look of doubt.
“Yes, always,” she replied, without knowing what she said; for her
thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared
by her suddenly exclaiming, “I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy,
that you hardly ever forgave;--that your resentment, once created, was
unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its _being
created_?”
“I am,” said he, with a firm voice.
“And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?”
“I hope not.”
“It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion,
to be secure of judging properly at first.”
“May I ask to what these questions tend?”
“Merely to the illustration of _your_ character,” said she, endeavouring
to shake off her gravity. “I am trying to make it out.”
“And what is your success?”
She shook her head. “I do not get on at all. I hear such different
accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.”
“I can readily believe,” answered he, gravely, “that reports may vary
greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were
not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to
fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either.”
“But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another
opportunity.”
“I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours,” he coldly replied.
She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in
silence; on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree; for
in Darcy’s breast there was a tolerably powerful feeling towards her,
which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against
another.
They had not long separated when Miss Bingley came towards her, and,
with an expression of civil disdain, thus accosted her,--
“So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham?
Your sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a thousand
questions; and I find that the young man forgot to tell you, among his
other communications, that he was the son of old Wickham, the late Mr.
Darcy’s steward. Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, not to give
implicit confidence to all his assertions; for, as to Mr. Darcy’s using
him ill, it is perfectly false: for, on the contrary, he has been always
remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treated Mr. Darcy in a
most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but I know very
well that Mr. Darcy is not in the least to blame; that he cannot bear
to hear George Wickham mentioned; and that though my brother thought he
could not well avoid including him in his invitation to the officers, he
was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself out of the way.
His coming into the country at all is a most insolent thing, indeed, and
I wonder how he could presume to do it. I pity you, Miss Eliza, for this
discovery of your favourite’s guilt; but really, considering his
descent, one could not expect much better.”
“His guilt and his descent appear, by your account, to be the same,”
said Elizabeth, angrily; “for I have heard you accuse him of nothing
worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy’s steward, and of _that_, I can
assure you, he informed me himself.”
“I beg your pardon,” replied Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer.
“Excuse my interference; it was kindly meant.”
“Insolent girl!” said Elizabeth to herself. “You are much mistaken if
you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see
nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and the malice of Mr.
Darcy.” She then sought her eldest sister, who had undertaken to make
inquiries on the same subject of Bingley. Jane met her with a smile of
such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently
marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening.
Elizabeth instantly read her feelings; and, at that moment, solicitude
for Wickham, resentment against his enemies, and everything else, gave
way before the hope of Jane’s being in the fairest way for happiness.
“I want to know,” said she, with a countenance no less smiling than her
sister’s, “what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham. But perhaps you have
been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person, in which case
you may be sure of my pardon.”
“No,” replied Jane, “I have not forgotten him; but I have nothing
satisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of his
history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have
principally offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good conduct,
the probity and honour, of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that
Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has
received; and I am sorry to say that by his account, as well as his
sister’s, Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am
afraid he has been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy’s
regard.”
“Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself.”
“No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton.”
“This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. I am
perfectly satisfied. But what does he say of the living?”
“He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard
them from Mr. Darcy more than once, but he believes that it was left to
him _conditionally_ only.”
“I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley’s sincerity,” said Elizabeth warmly,
“but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only.