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- 278742
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- 271020
- chunk_index
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- 1931
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- pride-and-prejudice
- text
- 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 to 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 suspense 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.
[Illustration:
“_Whenever she spoke in a low voice_”
]
Mrs. Bennet was really in a most pitiable state. The very mention of
anything 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 was 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 anything at all.”
“Let us be thankful that you are preserved from a state of such
insensibility.”
“I never can be thankful, Mr. Bennet, for anything about the entail. How
anyone 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.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XXIV.
[Illustration]
Miss Bingley’s letter arrived, and put an end to doubt. The very first
sentence conveyed the assurance of their being all settled in London for
the winter, and concluded with her brother’s regret at not having had
time to pay his respects to his friends in Hertfordshire before he left
the country.
Hope was over, entirely over; and when Jane could attend to the rest of
the letter, she found little, except the professed affection of the
writer, that could give her any comfort. Miss Darcy’s praise occupied
the chief of it. Her many attractions were again dwelt on; and Caroline
boasted joyfully of their increasing intimacy, and ventured to predict
the accomplishment of the wishes which had been unfolded in her former
letter. She wrote also with great pleasure of her brother’s being an
inmate of Mr. Darcy’s house, and mentioned with raptures some plans of
the latter with regard to new furniture.
Elizabeth, to whom Jane very soon communicated the chief of all this,
heard it in silent indignation. Her heart was divided between concern
for her sister and resentment against all others. To Caroline’s
assertion of her brother’s being partial to Miss Darcy, she paid no
credit. That he was really fond of Jane, she doubted no more than she
had ever done; and much as she had always been disposed to like him, she
could not think without anger, hardly without contempt, on that easiness
of temper, that want of proper resolution, which now made him the slave
of his designing friends, and led him to sacrifice his own happiness to
the caprice of their inclinations. Had his own happiness, however, been
the only sacrifice, he might have been allowed to sport with it in
whatever manner he thought best; but her sister’s was involved in it, as
she thought he must be sensible himself. It was a subject, in short, on
which reflection would be long indulged, and must be unavailing. She
could think of nothing else; and yet, whether Bingley’s regard had
really died away, or were suppressed by his friends’ interference;
whether he had been aware of Jane’s attachment, or whether it had
escaped his observation; whichever were the case, though her opinion of
him must be materially affected by the difference, her sister’s
situation remained the same, her peace equally wounded.
A day or two passed before Jane had courage to speak of her feelings to
Elizabeth; but at last, on Mrs. Bennet’s leaving them together, after a
longer irritation than usual about Netherfield and its master, she could
not help saying,--
“O that my dear mother had more command over herself! she can have no
idea of the pain she gives me by her continual reflections on him. But I
will not repine. It cannot last long. He will be forgot, and we shall
all be as we were before.”
Elizabeth looked at her sister with incredulous solicitude, but said
nothing.
“You doubt me,” cried Jane, slightly colouring; “indeed, you have no
reason. He may live in my memory as the most amiable man of my
acquaintance but that is all. I have nothing either to hope or fear, and
nothing to reproach him with. Thank God I have not _that_ pain.