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As no objection was made to the young people's engagement with their

aunt, and all Mr. Collins's scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet

for a single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted, the

coach conveyed him and his five cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton;

and the girls had the pleasure of hearing, as they entered the drawing-room,

that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle's invitation, and was then

in the house.

When this information was given, and they had all taken their seats,

Mr. Collins was at leisure to look around him and admire, and he was

so much struck with the size and furniture of the apartment, that he

declared he might almost have supposed himself in the small summer breakfast

parlour at Rosings; a comparison that did not at first convey much gratification;

but when Mrs. Philips understood from him what Rosings was, and who

was its proprietor, when she had listened to the description of only

one of Lady Catherine's drawing-rooms, and found that the chimney-piece

alone had cost eight hundred pounds, she felt all the force of the compliment,

and would hardly have resented a comparison with the housekeeper's room.

.

In describing to her all the grandeur of Lady Catherine and her mansion,

with occasional digressions in praise of his own humble abode and the

improvements it was receiving, he was happily employed until the gentlemen

joined them; and he found in Mrs. Philips a very attentive listener,

whose opinion of his consequence increased with what she heard, and

who was resolving to retail it all among her neighbours as soon as she

could. To the girls, who could not listen to their cousin, and who had

nothing to do but to wish for an instrument, and examine their own indifferent

imitations of china on the mantlepiece, the interval of waiting appeared

very long. It was over at last, however. The gentlemen did approach;

and when Mr. Wickham walked into the room, Elizabeth felt that she had

neither been seeing him before, nor thinking of him since, with the

smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. The officers of the -----shire

were in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike set, and the best of

them were of the present party; but Mr. Wickham was as far beyond them

all in person, countenance, air, and walk, as they were superior to

the broad-faced stuffy uncle Philips, breathing port wine, who followed

them into the room. .

Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye

was turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated

himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into

conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, and on the

probability of a rainy season, made her feel that the commonest, dullest,

most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting by the skill of

the speaker. .

With such rivals for the notice of the fair, as Mr. Wickham and the

officers, Mr. Collins seemed likely to sink into insignificance; to

the young ladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals

a kind listener in Mrs. Philips, and was, by her watchfulness, most

abundantly supplied with coffee and muffin. .

When the card tables were placed, he had an opportunity of obliging

her in return, by sitting down to whist. .

"I know little of the game, at present," said he, "but I shall

be glad to improve myself, for in my situation of life --" Mrs. Philips

was very thankful for his compliance, but could not wait for his reason.

.

Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and with ready delight was he received

at the other table between Elizabeth and Lydia. At first there seemed

danger of Lydia's engrossing him entirely for she was a most determined

talker; but being likewise extremely fond of lottery tickets, she soon

grew too much interested in the game, too eager in making bets and exclaiming

after prizes, to have attention for any one in particular. Allowing

for the common demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was therefore at leisure

to talk to Elizabeth, and she was very willing to hear him, though what

she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be told, the history

of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not even mention that

gentleman. Her curiosity however was unexpectedly relieved. Mr. Wickham

began the subject himself. He inquired how far Netherfield was from

Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked in an hesitating manner

how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there. .

"About a month," said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the

subject drop, added, "He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire,

I understand." .

"Yes," replied Wickham; -- "his estate there is a noble one. A

clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more

capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself --

for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from

my infancy." .

Elizabeth could not but look surprised. .

"You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after

seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting yesterday.

-- Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?" .

"As much as I ever wish to be," cried Elizabeth warmly, -- "I have

spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him very disagreeable."

.

"I have no left to give my opinion," said Wickham, "as to his

being agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I have

known him too long and to well to be a fair judge. It is impossible

for me to be impartial. But I believe your opinion of him would in general

astonish -- and perhaps you would not express it quite so strongly anywhere

else. -- Here you are in your own family." .

"Upon my word I say no more here than I might say in any house in

the neighbourhood, except Netherfield. He is not at all liked in Hertfordshire.

Every body is disgusted with his pride. You will not find him more favourably

spoken of by any one." .

"I cannot pretend to be sorry," said Wickham, after a short interruption,

"that he or that any man should not be estimated beyond their deserts;

but with him I believe it does not often happen. The world is blinded

by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his high and imposing

manners, and sees him only as he chuses to be seen." .

"I should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be an ill-tempered

man." Wickham only shook his head. .

"I wonder," said he, at the next opportunity of speaking, "whether

he is likely to be in this country much longer." .

"I do not at all know; but I heard nothing of his going away when

I was at Netherfield. I hope your plans in favour of the ----shire will

not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood." .

"Oh! no -- it is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If he

wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go. We are not on friendly terms,

and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for avoiding

him but what I might proclaim to all the world; a sense of very great

ill-usage, and most painful regrets at his being what he is. His father,

Miss Bennet, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed,

and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be in company with

this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by a thousand tender

recollections. His behaviour to myself has been scandalous; but I verily

believe I could forgive him any thing and every thing, rather than his

disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his father." .

Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and listened

with all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented farther inquiry.

.

Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the neighbourhood,

the society, appearing highly pleased with all that he had yet seen,

and speaking of the latter especially, with gentle but very intelligible

gallantry. .

"It was the prospect of constant society, and good society," he

added, "which was my chief inducement to enter the ----shire. I knew

it to be a most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friend Denny tempted

me farther by his account of their present quarters, and the very great

attentions and excellent acquaintance Meryton had procured them. Society,

I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and my spirits

will not bear solitude. I must have employment and society. A military

life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have now made

it eligible. The church ought to have been my profession -- I was brought

up for the church, and I should at this time have been in possession

of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we were speaking

of just now." .

"Indeed!" .

"Yes -- the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of

the best living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached

to me. I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for

me amply, and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was

given elsewhere." .

"Good heavens!" cried Elizabeth; "but how could that be? -- How

could his will be disregarded? -- Why did not you seek legal redress?"

.

"There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as

to give me no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted

the intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it -- or to treat it as

a merely conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had forfeited

all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence, in short any thing or nothing.

Certain it is, that the living became vacant two years ago, exactly

as I was of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another man;

and no less certain is it, that I cannot accuse myself of having really

done any thing to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper,

and I may perhaps have sometimes spoken my opinion of him, and to him,

too freely. I can recall nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are

very different sort of men, and that he hates me." .

"This is quite shocking! -- He deserves to be publicly disgraced."

.

"Some time or other he will be -- but it shall not be by me. Till

I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him." .

Elizabeth honoured him for such feelings, and thought him handsomer

than ever as he expressed them. .

"But what," said she after a pause, "can have been his motive?

-- what can have induced him to behave so cruelly?" .

"A thorough, determined dislike of me -- a dislike which I cannot

but attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcy liked

me less, his son might have borne with me better; but his father's uncommon

attachment to me, irritated him I believe very early in life. He had

not a temper to bear the sort of competition in which we stood -- the

sort of preference which was often given me." .

"I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this -- though I have never

liked him, I had not thought so very ill of him -- I had supposed him

to be despising his fellow-creatures in general, but did not suspect

him of descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity

as this!" .

After a few minutes reflection, however, she continued, "I do remember

his boasting one day, at Netherfield, of the implacability of his resentments,

of his having an unforgiving temper. His disposition must be dreadful."

.

"I will not trust myself on the subject," replied Wickham, "I can

hardly be just to him." .

Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, "To

treat in such a manner, the godson, the friend, the favourite of his

father!" -- She could have added, "A young man too, like you, whose

very countenance may vouch for your being amiable" -- but she contented

herself with "And one, too, who had probably been his own companion

from childhood, connected together, as I think you said, in the closest

manner!" .

"We were born in the same parish, within the same park, the greatest

part of our youth was passed together; inmates of the same house, sharing

the same amusements, objects of the same parental care. My father began

life in the profession which your uncle, Mr. Philips, appears to do

so much credit to -- but he gave up every thing to be of use to the

late Mr. Darcy, and devoted all his time to the care of the Pemberley

property. He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most intimate,

confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged. himself to be under

the greatest obligations to my father's active superintendance, and

when immediately before my father's death, Mr. Darcy gave him a voluntary

promise of providing for me, I am convinced that he felt it to be as

much a debt of gratitude to him, as of affection to myself." .

"How strange!" cried Elizabeth. "How abominable! -- I wonder that

the very pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you! -- If

from no better motive, that he should not have been too proud to be

dishonest, -- for dishonesty I must call it." .

"It is wonderful," -- replied Wickham, -- "for almost all his actions

may be traced to pride; -- and pride has often been his best friend.

It has connected him nearer with virtue than any other feeling. But

we are none of us consistent; and in his behaviour to me, there were

stronger impulses even than pride." .

"Can such abominable pride as his, have ever done him good?" .

"Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, -- to give

his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and

relieve the poor. Family pride, and filial pride, for he is very proud

of what his father was, have done this. Not to appear to disgrace his

family, to degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence

of the Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. He has also brotherly

pride, which with some brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and

careful guardian of his sister; and you will hear him generally cried

up as the most attentive and best of brothers." .

"What sort of a girl is Miss Darcy,?" .

He shook his head. -- "I wish I could call her amiable. It gives

me pain to speak ill of a Darcy. But she is too much like her brother,

-- very, very proud. -- As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing,

and extremely fond of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her

amusement. But she is nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about

fifteen or sixteen, and, I understand, highly accomplished. Since her

father's death, her home has been London, where a lady lives with her,

and superintends her education." .

After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could

not help reverting once more to the first, and saying, .

"I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley! How can Mr. Bingley,

who seems good humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable,

be in friendship with such a man? How can they suit each other? -- Do

you know Mr. Bingley?" .

"Not at all." .

"He is a sweet tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot know what

Mr. Darcy is." .

"Probably not; -- but Mr. Darcy can please where he chuses. He does

not want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he thinks it

worth his while. Among those who are at all his equals in consequence,

he is a very different man from what he is to the less prosperous. His

pride never deserts him; but with the rich, he is liberal-minded, just,

sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps agreeable, -- allowing something

for fortune and figure." .

The whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players gathered

round the other table, and Mr. Collins took his station between his

cousin Elizabeth and Mrs. Philips. -- The usual inquiries as to his

success were made by the latter. It had not been very great; he had

lost every point; but when Mrs. Philips began to express her concern

thereupon, he assured her with much earnest gravity that it was not

of the least importance, that he considered the money as a mere trifle,

and begged she would not make herself uneasy. .

"I know very well, madam," said he, "that when persons sit down

to a card table, they must take their chance of these things, -- and

happily I am not in such circumstances as to make five shillings any

object. There are undoubtedly many who could not say the same, but thanks

to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am removed far beyond the necessity of

regarding little matters." .

Mr. Wickham's attention was caught; and after observing Mr. Collins

for a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voice whether her relation

were very intimately acquainted with the family of de Bourgh. .

"Lady Catherine de Bourgh," she replied, "has very lately given

him a living. I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first introduced to

her notice, but he certainly has not known her long." .

"You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy

were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr. Darcy."

.

"No, indeed, I did not. -- I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine's

connections. I never heard of her existence till the day before yesterday."

.

"Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune, and

it is believed that she and her cousin will unite the two estates."

.

This information made Elizabeth smile, as she thought of poor Miss

Bingley. Vain indeed must be all her attentions, vain and useless her

affection for his sister and her praise of himself, if he were already

self-destined to another. .

"Mr. Collins," said she, "speaks highly both of Lady Catherine

and her daughter; but from some particulars that he has related of her

ladyship, I suspect his gratitude misleads him, and that in spite of

her being his patroness, she is an arrogant, conceited woman." .

"I believe her to be both in a great degree," replied Wickham; "I

have not seen her for many years, but I very well remember that I never

liked her, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent. She has

the reputation of being remarkably sensible and clever; but I rather

believe she derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune,

part from her authoritative manner, and the rest from the pride of her

nephew, who chuses that every one connected with him should have an

understanding of the first class." .

Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very rational account of it,

and they continued talking together with mutual satisfaction till supper

put an end to cards; and gave the rest of the ladies their share of

Mr. Wickham's attentions. There could be no conversation in the noise

of Mrs. Philips's supper party, but his manners recommended him to every

body. Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done gracefully.

Elizabeth went away with her head full of him. She could think of nothing

but of Mr. Wickham, and of what he had told her, all the way home; but

there was not time for her even to mention his name as they went, for

neither Lydia nor Mr. Collins were once silent. Lydia talked incessantly

of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and the fish she had won,

and Mr. Collins, in describing the civility of Mr. and Mrs. Philips,

protesting that he did not in the least regard his losses at whist,

enumerating all the dishes at supper, and repeatedly fearing that he

crouded his cousins, had more to say than he could well manage before

the carriage stopped at Longbourn House. .

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