- char_end
- 377749
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- 370125
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- 1906
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- pride-and-prejudice
- text
- that Bingley was the person meant. It was all conjecture.”
“What is it you mean?”
“It is a circumstance which Darcy of course could not wish to be
generally known, because if it were to get round to the lady’s family it
would be an unpleasant thing.”
“You may depend upon my not mentioning it.”
“And remember that I have not much reason for supposing it to be
Bingley. What he told me was merely this: that he congratulated himself
on having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a most
imprudent marriage, but without mentioning names or any other
particulars; and I only suspected it to be Bingley from believing him
the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort, and from
knowing them to have been together the whole of last summer.”
“Did Mr. Darcy give you his reasons for this interference?”
“I understood that there were some very strong objections against the
lady.”
“And what arts did he use to separate them?”
“He did not talk to me of his own arts,” said Fitzwilliam, smiling. “He
only told me what I have now told you.”
Elizabeth made no answer, and walked on, her heart swelling with
indignation. After watching her a little, Fitzwilliam asked her why she
was so thoughtful.
“I am thinking of what you have been telling me,” said she. “Your
cousin’s conduct does not suit my feelings. Why was he to be the
judge?”
“You are rather disposed to call his interference officious?”
“I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his
friend’s inclination; or why, upon his own judgment alone, he was to
determine and direct in what manner that friend was to be happy. But,”
she continued, recollecting herself, “as we know none of the
particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed
that there was much affection in the case.”
“That is not an unnatural surmise,” said Fitzwilliam; “but it is
lessening the honour of my cousin’s triumph very sadly.”
This was spoken jestingly, but it appeared to her so just a picture of
Mr. Darcy, that she would not trust herself with an answer; and,
therefore, abruptly changing the conversation, talked on indifferent
matters till they reached the Parsonage. There, shut into her own room,
as soon as their visitor left them, she could think without interruption
of all that she had heard. It was not to be supposed that any other
people could be meant than those with whom she was connected. There
could not exist in the world _two_ men over whom Mr. Darcy could have
such boundless influence. That he had been concerned in the measures
taken to separate Mr. Bingley and Jane, she had never doubted; but she
had always attributed to Miss Bingley the principal design and
arrangement of them. If his own vanity, however, did not mislead him,
_he_ was the cause--his pride and caprice were the cause--of all that
Jane had suffered, and still continued to suffer. He had ruined for a
while every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart
in the world; and no one could say how lasting an evil he might have
inflicted.
“There were some very strong objections against the lady,” were Colonel
Fitzwilliam’s words; and these strong objections probably were, her
having one uncle who was a country attorney, and another who was in
business in London.
“To Jane herself,” she exclaimed, “there could be no possibility of
objection,--all loveliness and goodness as she is! Her understanding
excellent, her mind improved, and her manners captivating. Neither could
anything be urged against my father, who, though with some
peculiarities, has abilities which Mr. Darcy himself need not disdain,
and respectability which he will probably never reach.” When she thought
of her mother, indeed, her confidence gave way a little; but she would
not allow that any objections _there_ had material weight with Mr.
Darcy, whose pride, she was convinced, would receive a deeper wound from
the want of importance in his friend’s connections than from their want
of sense; and she was quite decided, at last, that he had been partly
governed by this worst kind of pride, and partly by the wish of
retaining Mr. Bingley for his sister.
The agitation and tears which the subject occasioned brought on a
headache; and it grew so much worse towards the evening that, added to
her unwillingness to see Mr. Darcy, it determined her not to attend her
cousins to Rosings, where they were engaged to drink tea. Mrs. Collins,
seeing that she was really unwell, did not press her to go, and as much
as possible prevented her husband from pressing her; but Mr. Collins
could not conceal his apprehension of Lady Catherine’s being rather
displeased by her staying at home.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XXXIV.
[Illustration]
When they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself as
much as possible against Mr. Darcy, chose for her employment the
examination of all the letters which Jane had written to her since her
being in Kent. They contained no actual complaint, nor was there any
revival of past occurrences, or any communication of present suffering.
But in all, and in almost every line of each, there was a want of that
cheerfulness which had been used to characterize her style, and which,
proceeding from the serenity of a mind at ease with itself, and kindly
disposed towards everyone, had been scarcely ever clouded. Elizabeth
noticed every sentence conveying the idea of uneasiness, with an
attention which it had hardly received on the first perusal. Mr. Darcy’s
shameful boast of what misery he had been able to inflict gave her a
keener sense of her sister’s sufferings. It was some consolation to
think that his visit to Rosings was to end on the day after the next,
and a still greater that in less than a fortnight she should herself be
with Jane again, and enabled to contribute to the recovery of her
spirits, by all that affection could do.
She could not think of Darcy’s leaving Kent without remembering that his
cousin was to go with him; but Colonel Fitzwilliam had made it clear
that he had no intentions at all, and, agreeable as he was, she did not
mean to be unhappy about him.
While settling this point, she was suddenly roused by the sound of the
door-bell; and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its
being Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who had once before called late in
the evening, and might now come to inquire particularly after her. But
this idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differently
affected, when, to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the
room. In a hurried manner he immediately began an inquiry after her
health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better.
She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and
then getting up walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but
said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her
in an agitated manner, and thus began:--
“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be
repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love
you.”
Elizabeth’s astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured,
doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement,
and the avowal of all that he felt and had long felt for her immediately
followed. He spoke well; but there were feelings besides those of the
heart to be detailed, and he was not more eloquent on the subject of
tenderness than of pride.