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TILL Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield and looked in

vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled,

a doubt of his being present had never occurred to her. The certainty

of meeting him had not been checked by any of those recollections that

might not unreasonably have alarmed her. She had dressed with more than

usual care, and prepared in the highest spirits for the conquest of

all that remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it was not more

than might be won in the course of the evening. But in an instant arose

the dreadful suspicion of his being purposely omitted for Mr. Darcy's

pleasure in the Bingleys' invitation to the officers; and though this

was not exactly the case, the absolute fact of his absence was pronounced

by his friend Mr. Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied, and who told

them that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on business the day

before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile,

"I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now,

if he had not wished to avoid a certain gentleman here." .

This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught

by Elizabeth, and as it assured her that Darcy was not less answerable

for Wickham's absence than if her first surmise had been just, every

feeling of displeasure against the former was so sharpened by immediate

disappointment, that she could hardly reply with tolerable civility

to the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make.

-- Attention, forbearance, patience with Darcy, was injury to Wickham.

She was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned

away with a degree of ill humour, which she could not wholly surmount

even in speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind partiality provoked her.

.

But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour; and though every prospect

of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long on

her spirits; and having told all her griefs to Charlotte Lucas, whom

she had not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary transition

to the oddities of her cousin, and to point him out to her particular

notice. The two first dances, however, brought a return of distress;

they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn,

apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being

aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable

partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her release from

him was exstacy. .

She danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment of talking

of Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked. When those

dances were over she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation

with her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy, who

took her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that,

without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again

immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence

of mind; Charlotte tried to console her. .

"I dare say you will find him very agreeable." .

"Heaven forbid! -- That would be the greatest misfortune of all!

-- To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! -- Do not

wish me such an evil." .

When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim

her hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her, in a whisper, not

to be a simpleton, and allow her fancy for Wickham to make her appear

unpleasant in the eyes of a man of ten times his consequence. Elizabeth

made no answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity

to which she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy,

and reading in her neighbours' looks their equal amazement in beholding

it. They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began

to imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and

at first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it

would be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk,

she made some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again

silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time

with: .

"It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. -- I talked about

the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of

the room, or the number of couples." .

He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should

be said. .

"Very well. -- That reply will do for the present. -- Perhaps by

and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public

ones. -- But now we may be silent." .

"Do you talk by rule then, while you are dancing?" .

"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd

to be entirely silent for half an hour together, and yet for the advantage

of some, conversation ought to be so arranged as that they may have

the trouble of saying as little as as possible." .

"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do

you imagine that you are gratifying mine?" .

"Both," replied Elizabeth archly; "for I have always seen a great

similarity in the turn of our minds. -- We are each of an unsocial,

taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something

that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with

all the eclat of a proverb." .

"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am

sure," said he. "How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say.

-- You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly." .

"I must not decide on my own performance." .

He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down

the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often

walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist

the temptation, added, "When you met us there the other day, we had

just been forming a new acquaintance." .

The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his

features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth, though blaming herself

for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy spoke, and in

a constrained manner said, .

"Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his

making friends -- whether he may be equally capable of retaining them,

is less certain." .

"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," replied Elizabeth

with emphasis, "and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all

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 stopt 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."

.

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 report 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 tolerable 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 favorite'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 every thing 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.

Mr. Bingley's defence of his friend was a very able one I dare say,

but since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has

learnt the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture still to think

of both gentlemen as I did before." .

She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and

on which there could be no difference of sentiment. Elizabeth listened

with delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane entertained

of Bingley's regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidence

in it. On their being joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew

to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her last partner

she had scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins came up to them and told

her with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as to make

a most important discovery. .

"I have found out," said he, "by a singular accident, that there

is now in the room a near relation of my patroness. I happened to overhear

the gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the honours

of this house the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother

Lady Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would

have thought of my meeting with -- perhaps -- a nephew of Lady Catherine

de Bourgh in this assembly! -- I am most thankful that the discovery

is made in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going

to do, and trust he will excuse my not having done it before. My total

ignorance of the connection must plead my apology." .

"You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy?" .

"Indeed I am. I shall intreat his pardon for not having done it earlier.

I believe him to be Lady Catherine's nephew. It will be in my power

to assure him that her ladyship was quite well yesterday se'nnight."

.

Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme; assuring

him that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction

as an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt; that

it was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either

side, and that if it were, it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior

in consequence, to begin the acquaintance. -- Mr. Collins listened to

her with the determined air of following his own inclination and when

she ceased speaking, replied thus, .

"My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world

of your excellent judgment in all matters within the scope of your understanding,

but permit me to say that there must be a wide difference between the

established forms of ceremony amongst the laity, and those which regulate

the clergy; for give me leave to observe that I consider the clerical

office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank in the kingdom

-- provided that a proper humility of behaviour is at the same time

maintained. You must therefore allow me to follow the dictates of my

conscience on this occasion, which leads me to perform what I look on

as a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to profit by your advice,

which on every other subject shall be my constant guide, though in the

case before us I consider myself more fitted by education and habitual

study to decide on what is left than a young lady like yourself."

And with a low bow he left her to attack Mr. Darcy, whose reception

of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose astonishment at being

so addressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced his speech with a

solemn bow, and though she could not hear a word of it, she felt as

if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the words "apology,"

"Hunsford," and "Lady Catherine de Bourgh." -- It vexed her to see

him expose himself to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing him with unrestrained

wonder, and when at last Mr. Collins allowed him time to speak, replied

with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins, however, was not discouraged

from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy's contempt seemed abundantly increasing

with the length of his second speech, and at the end of it he only made

him a slight bow, and moved another way. Mr. Collins then returned to

Elizabeth. .

"I have no reason, I assure you," said he, "to be dissatisfied

with my reception. Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with the attention.

He answered me with the utmost civility, and even paid me the compliment

of saying that he was so well convinced of Lady Catherine's discernment

as to be certain she could never bestow a favour unworthily. It was

really a very handsome thought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with

him." .

As Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her own to pursue, she

turned her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley,

and the train of agreeable reflections which her observations gave birth

to, made her perhaps almost as happy as Jane. She saw her, in idea,

settled in that very house, in all the felicity which a marriage of

true affection could bestow; and she felt capable, under such circumstances,

of endeavouring even to like Bingley's two sisters. Her mother's thoughts

she plainly saw were bent the same way, and she determined not to venture

near her, lest she might hear too much. When they sat down to supper,

therefore, she considered it a most unlucky perverseness which placed

them within one of each other; and deeply was she vexed to find that

her mother was talking to that one person (Lady Lucas) freely, openly,

and of nothing else but of her expectation that Jane would be soon married

to Mr. Bingley. -- It was an animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet seemed

incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match.

His being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living but three

miles from them, were the first points of self-gratulation; and then

it was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of Jane,

and to be certain that they must desire the connection as much as she

could do. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger daughters,

as Jane's marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of other rich

men; and lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be able to

consign her single daughters to the care of their sister, that she might

not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. It was necessary

to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure, because on such occasions

it is the etiquette, but no one was less likely than Mrs. Bennet to

find comfort in staying at home at any period of her life. She concluded

with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally fortunate,

though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no chance of it.

.

In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother's

words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible whisper;

for to her inexpressible vexation, she could perceive that the chief

of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite to them. Her mother

only scolded her for being nonsensical. .

"What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I

am sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say

nothing he may not like to hear." .

"For heaven's sake, madam, speak lower. -- What advantage can it

be to you to offend Mr. Darcy? -- You will never recommend yourself

to his friend by so doing." .

Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Her mother

would talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed

and blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently

glancing her eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced her of

what she dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother,

she was convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The

expression of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to

a composed and steady gravity. .

At length however Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and Lady Lucas,

who had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw

no likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and chicken.

Elizabeth now began to revive. But not long was the interval of tranquillity;

for when supper was over, singing was talked of, and she had the mortification

of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty, preparing to oblige the

company. By many significant looks and silent entreaties, did she endeavour

to prevent such a proof of complaisance, -- but in vain; Mary would

not understand them; such an opportunity of exhibiting was delightful

to her, and she began her song. Elizabeth's eyes were fixed on her with

most painful sensations; and she watched her progress through the several

stanzas with an impatience which was very ill rewarded at their close;

for Mary, on receiving amongst the thanks of the table, the hint of

a hope that she might be prevailed on to favour them again, after the

pause of half a minute began another. Mary's powers were by no means

fitted for such a display; her voice was weak, and her manner affected.

-- Elizabeth was in agonies. She looked at Jane, to see how she bore

it; but Jane was very composedly talking to Bingley. She looked at his

two sisters, and saw them making signs of derision at each other, and

at Darcy, who continued however impenetrably grave. She looked at her

father to entreat his interference, lest Mary should be singing all

night. He took the hint, and when Mary had finished her second song,

said aloud, .

"That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough.

Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit." .

Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat disconcerted; and

Elizabeth sorry for her, and sorry for her father's speech, was afraid

her anxiety had done no good. -- Others of the party were now applied

to. .

"If I," said Mr. Collins, "were so fortunate as to be able to sing,

I should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with

an air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion, and perfectly

compatible with the profession of a clergyman. -- I do not mean however

to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time

to music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. The

rector of a parish has much to do. -- In the first place, he must make

such an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial to himself and not

offensive to his patron. He must write his own sermons; and the time

that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care

and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making

as comfortable as possible. And I do not think it of light importance

that he should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards every

body, especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot

acquit him of that duty; nor could I think well of the man who should

omit an occasion of testifying his respect towards any body connected

with the family." And with a bow to Mr. Darcy, he concluded his speech,

which had been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room. -- Many

stared. -- Many smiled; but no one looked more amused than Mr. Bennet

himself, while his wife seriously commended Mr. Collins for having spoken

so sensibly, and observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, that he was

a remarkably clever, good kind of young man. .

To Elizabeth it appeared, that had her family made an agreement to

expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would

have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit,

or finer success; and happy did she think it for Bingley and her sister

that some of the exhibition had escaped his notice, and that his feelings

were not of a sort to be much distressed by the folly which he must

have witnessed. That his two sisters and Mr. Darcy, however, should

have such an opportunity of ridiculing her relations was bad enough,

and she could not determine whether the silent contempt of the gentleman,

or the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable. .

The rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teazed

by Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and though

he could not prevail with her to dance with him again, put it out of

her power to dance with others. In vain did she entreat him to stand

up with somebody else, and offer to introduce him to any young lady

in the room. He assured her that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent

to it; that his chief object was by delicate attentions to recommend

himself to her, and that he should therefore make a point of remaining

close to her the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a project.

She owed her greatest relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who often joined

them, and good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins's conversation to herself.

.

She was at least free from the offence of Mr. Darcy's farther notice;

though often standing within a very short distance of her, quite disengaged,

he never came near enough to speak. She felt it to be the probable consequence

of her allusions to Mr. Wickham, and rejoiced in it. .

The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart; and

by a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriages a quarter

of an hour after every body else was gone, which gave them time to see

how heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst

and her sister scarcely opened their mouths except to complain of fatigue,

and were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed

every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and by so doing, threw

a languor over the whole party, which was very little relieved by the

long speeches of Mr. Collins, who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and

his sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality

and politeness which had marked their behaviour to their guests. Darcy

said nothing at all. Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the

scene. Mr. Bingley and Jane were standing together, a little detached

from the rest, and talked only to each other. Elizabeth preserved as

steady a silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley; and even Lydia

was too much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation

of "Lord how tired I am!" accompanied by a violent yawn. .

When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly

civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn; and

addressed herself particularly to Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy

he would make them by eating a family dinner with them at any time,

without the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful

pleasure, and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity

of waiting on her, after his return from London, whither he was obliged

to go the next day for a short time. .

Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied; and quitted the house under the

delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations

of settlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes, she should undoubtedly

see her daughter settled at Netherfield in the course of three or four

months. Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins, she thought

with equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure.

Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children; and though

the man and the match were quite good enough for her, the worth of each

was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield. .

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