JANE AUSTEN 3 страница

women can never end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can

on the receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to

dine with the officers. Yours ever,

 

CAROLINE BINGLEY."

 

"With the officers!" cried Lydia. "I wonder my aunt did not

tell us of _that_."

 

"Dining out," said Mrs. Bennet, "that is very unlucky."

 

"Can I have the carriage?" said Jane.

 

"No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems

likely to rain; and then you must stay all night."

 

"That would be a good scheme," said Elizabeth, "if you were

sure that they would not offer to send her home."

 

"Oh! but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley's chaise to go to

Meryton; and the Hursts have no horses to theirs."

 

"I had much rather go in the coach."

 

"But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, I am sure.

They are wanted in the farm, Mr. Bennet, are not they?"

 

"They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get them."

 

"But if you have got them to-day," said Elizabeth, "my mother's

purpose will be answered."

 

She did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment that

the horses were engaged. Jane was therefore obliged to go on

horseback, and her mother attended her to the door with many

cheerful prognostics of a bad day. Her hopes were answered;

Jane had not been gone long before it rained hard. Her sisters

were uneasy for her, but her mother was delighted. The rain

continued the whole evening without intermission; Jane

certainly could not come back.

 

"This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!" said Mrs. Bennet, more

than once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own.

Till the next morning, however, she was not aware of all the

felicity of her contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when

a servant from Netherfield brought the following note for

Elizabeth:

 

"My dearest Lizzy,

 

I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is

to be imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind

friends will not hear of my returning home till I am better.

They insist also on my seeing Mr. Jones -- therefore do not be

alarmed if you should hear of his having been to me -- and

excepting a sore throat and head-ache, there is not much the

matter with me.

 

Yours, &c."

 

"Well, my dear," said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the

note aloud, "if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of

illness, if she should die, it would be a comfort to know that

it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and under your orders."

 

"Oh! I am not at all afraid of her dying. People do not die

of little trifling colds. She will be taken good care of.

As long is she stays there, it is all very well. I would go

and see her, if I could have the carriage."

 

Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her,

though the carriage was not to be had; and as she was no

horse-woman, walking was her only alternative. She declared

her resolution.

 

"How can you be so silly," cried her mother, "as to think of

such a thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen

when you get there."

 

"I shall be very fit to see Jane -- which is all I want."

 

"Is this a hint to me, Lizzy," said her father, "to send for

the horses?"

 

"No, indeed. I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is

nothing, when one has a motive; only three miles. I shall be

back by dinner."

 

"I admire the activity of your benevolence," observed Mary,

"but every impulse of feeling should be guided by reason;

and, in my opinion, exertion should always be in proportion to

what is required."

 

"We will go as far as Meryton with you," said Catherine and

Lydia. -- Elizabeth accepted their company, and the three young

ladies set off together.

 

"If we make haste," said Lydia, as they walked along,

"perhaps we may see something of Captain Carter before he

goes."

 

In Meryton they parted; the two youngest repaired to the

lodgings of one of the officers' wives, and Elizabeth continued

her walk alone, crossing field after field at a quick pace,

jumping over stiles and springing over puddles with impatient

activity, and finding herself at last within view of the house,

with weary ancles, dirty stockings, and a face glowing with the

warmth of exercise.

 

She was shewn into the breakfast-parlour, where all but Jane

were assembled, and where her appearance created a great deal

of surprise. -- That she should have walked three miles so

early in the day, in such dirty weather, and by herself, was

almost incredible to Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and Elizabeth

was convinced that they held her in contempt for it. She was

received, however, very politely by them; and in their

brother's manners there was something better than politeness;

there was good humour and kindness. -- Mr. Darcy said very

little, and Mr. Hurst nothing at all. The former was divided

between admiration of the brilliancy which exercise had given

to her complexion, and doubt as to the occasion's justifying

her coming so far alone. The latter was thinking only of his

breakfast.

 

Her enquiries after her sister were not very favourably

answered. Miss Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very

feverish and not well enough to leave her room. Elizabeth was

glad to be taken to her immediately; and Jane, who had only

been withheld by the fear of giving alarm or inconvenience,

from expressing in her note how much she longed for such a

visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was not equal,

however, to much conversation, and when Miss Bingley left them

together, could attempt little beside expressions of gratitude

for the extraordinary kindness she was treated with. Elizabeth

silently attended her.

 

When breakfast was over, they were joined by the sisters, and

Elizabeth began to like them herself, when she saw how much

affection and solicitude they shewed for Jane. The apothecary

came, and having examined his patient, said, as might be

supposed, that she had caught a violent cold, and that they

must endeavour to get the better of it; advised her to return

to bed, and promised her some draughts. The advice was

followed readily, for the feverish symptoms increased, and her

head ached acutely. Elizabeth did not quit her room for a

moment, nor were the other ladies often absent; the gentlemen

being out, they had in fact nothing to do elsewhere.

 

When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that she must go;

and very unwillingly said so. Miss Bingley offered her the

carriage, and she only wanted a little pressing to accept it,

when Jane testified such concern in parting with her that Miss

Bingley was obliged to convert the offer of the chaise into an

invitation to remain at Netherfield for the present. Elizabeth

most thankfully consented, and a servant was dispatched to

Longbourn to acquaint the family with her stay, and bring back

a supply of clothes.

 

__

 

<CHAPTER VIII (8)>

 

AT five o'clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half

past six Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. To the civil

enquiries which then poured in, and amongst which she had the

pleasure of distinguishing the much superior solicitude of

Mr. Bingley's, she could not make a very favourable answer.

Jane was by no means better. The sisters, on hearing this,

repeated three or four times how much they were grieved, how

shocking it was to have a bad cold, and how excessively they

disliked being ill themselves, and then thought no more of the

matter; and their indifference towards Jane, when not

immediately before them, restored Elizabeth to the enjoyment of

all her original dislike.

 

Their brother, indeed, was the only one of the party whom she

could regard with any complacency. His anxiety for Jane was

evident, and his attentions to herself most pleasing, and they

prevented her feeling herself so much an intruder as she

believed she was considered by the others. She had very little

notice from any but him. Miss Bingley was engrossed by

Mr. Darcy, her sister scarcely less so; and as for Mr. Hurst,

by whom Elizabeth sat, he was an indolent man, who lived only

to eat, drink, and play at cards, who, when he found her prefer

a plain dish to a ragout, had nothing to say to her.

 

When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss

Bingley began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room.

Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of

pride and impertinence; she had no conversation, no stile, no

taste, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst thought the same, and added,

 

"She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an

excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this

morning. She really looked almost wild."

 

"She did indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance.

Very nonsensical to come at all! Why must _she_ be scampering

about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair so

untidy, so blowsy!"

 

"Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six

inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which

had been let down to hide it not doing its office."

 

"Your picture may be very exact, Louisa," said Bingley;

"but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth

Bennet looked remarkably well, when she came into the room this

morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice."

 

"_You_ observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure," said Miss Bingley,

"and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see

_your_ _sister_ make such an exhibition."

 

"Certainly not."

 

"To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever

it is, above her ancles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! what

could she mean by it? It seems to me to shew an abominable

sort of conceited independence, a most country town

indifference to decorum."

 

"It shews an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,"

said Bingley.

 

"I am afraid, Mr. Darcy," observed Miss Bingley in a half

whisper, "that this adventure has rather affected your

admiration of her fine eyes."

 

"Not at all," he replied; "they were brightened by the

exercise." -- A short pause followed this speech, and

Mrs. Hurst began again.

 

"I have an excessive regard for Jane Bennet, she is really a

very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well

settled. But with such a father and mother, and such low

connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it."

 

"I think I have heard you say, that their uncle is an attorney

in Meryton."

 

"Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near

Cheapside."

 

"That is capital," added her sister, and they both laughed

heartily.

 

"If they had uncles enough to fill _all_ Cheapside," cried

Bingley, "it would not make them one jot less agreeable."

 

"But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying

men of any consideration in the world," replied Darcy.

 

To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisters gave it

their hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at

the expense of their dear friend's vulgar relations.

 

With a renewal of tenderness, however, they repaired to her

room on leaving the dining-parlour, and sat with her till

summoned to coffee. She was still very poorly, and Elizabeth

would not quit her at all till late in the evening, when she

had the comfort of seeing her asleep, and when it appeared to

her rather right than pleasant that she should go down stairs

herself. On entering the drawing-room she found the whole

party at loo, and was immediately invited to join them; but

suspecting them to be playing high she declined it, and making

her sister the excuse, said she would amuse herself for the

short time she could stay below with a book. Mr. Hurst looked

at her with astonishment.

 

"Do you prefer reading to cards?" said he; "that is rather

singular."

 

"Miss Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, "despises cards

She is a great reader and has no pleasure in anything else."

 

"I deserve neither such praise nor such censure," cried

Elizabeth; "I am _not_ a great reader, and I have pleasure in

many things."

 

"In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure," said

Bingley; "and I hope it will soon be increased by seeing her

quite well."

 

Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards a

table where a few books were lying. He immediately offered to

fetch her others; all that his library afforded.

 

"And I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and

my own credit; but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not

many, I have more than I ever look into."

 

Elizabeth assured him that she could suit herself perfectly

with those in the room.

 

"I am astonished," said Miss Bingley, "that my father should

have left so small a collection of books. -- What a delightful

library you have at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!"

 

"It ought to be good," he replied, "it has been the work of

many generations."

 

"And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always

buying books."

 

"I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such

days as these,"

 

"Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the

beauties of that noble place. Charles, when you build _your_

house, I wish it may be half as delightful as Pemberley."

 

"I wish it may."

 

"But I would really advise you to make your purchase in

that neighbourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model.

There is not a finer county in England than Derbyshire."

 

"With all my heart; I will buy Pemberley itself if Darcy will

sell it."

 

"I am talking of possibilities, Charles."

 

"Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get

Pemberley by purchase than by imitation."

 

Elizabeth was so much caught by what passed, as to leave her

very little attention for her book; and soon laying it wholly

aside, she drew near the card-table, and stationed herself

between Mr. Bingley and his eldest sister to observe the game.

 

"Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?" said Miss Bingley;

"will she be as tall as I am?"

 

"I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet's

height, or rather taller."

 

"How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who

delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners, and

so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the

piano-forte is exquisite."

 

"It is amazing to me," said Bingley, "how young ladies can have

patience to be so very accomplished as they all are."

 

"All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you

mean?"

 

"Yes all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover

skreens, and net purses. I scarcely know any one who cannot

do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken

of for the first time, without being informed that she was

very accomplished."

 

"Your list of the common extent of accomplishments," said

Darcy, "has too much truth. The word is applied to many a

woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse,

or covering a skreen. But I am very far from agreeing with

you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast

of knowing more than half a dozen, in the whole range of my

acquaintance, that are really accomplished."

 

"Nor I, I am sure," said Miss Bingley.

 

"Then," observed Elizabeth, "you must comprehend a great deal

in your idea of an accomplished women."

 

"Yes; I do comprehend a great deal in it."

 

"Oh! certainly," cried his faithful assistant, "no one can be

really esteemed accomplished, who does not greatly surpass what

is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of

music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to

deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a

certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of

her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but

half deserved."

 

"All this she must possess," added Darcy, "and to all this she

must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of

her mind by extensive reading."

 

"I am no longer surprised at your knowing _only_ six

accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing

_any_."

 

"Are you so severe upon your own sex, as to doubt the

possibility of all this?"

 

"_I_ never saw such a woman, _I_ never saw such capacity, and

taste, and application, and elegance, as you describe, united."

 

Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the

injustice of her implied doubt, and were both protesting that

they knew many women who answered this description, when

Mr. Hurst called them to order, with bitter complaints of their

inattention to what was going forward. As all conversation was

thereby at an end, Elizabeth soon afterwards left the room.

 

"Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on

her, "is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend

themselves to the other sex by undervaluing their own, and with

many men, I dare say, it succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a

paltry device, a very mean art."

 

"Undoubtedly," replied Darcy, to whom this remark was chiefly

addressed, "there is meanness in _all_ the arts which ladies

sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Whatever bears

affinity to cunning is despicable."

 

Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as

to continue the subject.

 

Elizabeth joined them again only to say that her sister was

worse, and that she could not leave her. Bingley urged Mr.

Jones's being sent for immediately; while his sisters,

convinced that no country advice could be of any service,

recommended an express to town for one of the most eminent

physicians. This she would not hear of, but she was not so

unwilling to comply with their brother's proposal; and it was

settled that Mr. Jones should be sent for early in the morning

if Miss Bennet were not decidedly better. Bingley was quite

uncomfortable; his sisters declared that they were miserable.

They solaced their wretchedness, however, by duets after

supper, while he could find no better relief to his feelings

than by giving his housekeeper directions that every possible

attention might be paid to the sick lady and her sister.

 

__

 

<CHAPTER IX (9)>

 

ELIZABETH passed the chief of the night in her sister's

room, and in the morning had the pleasure of being able to

send a tolerable answer to the enquiries which she very early

received from Mr. Bingley by a housemaid, and some time

afterwards from the two elegant ladies who waited on his

sisters. In spite of this amendment, however, she requested

to have a note sent to Longbourn, desiring her mother to visit

Jane, and form her own judgment of her situation. The note

was immediately dispatched, and its contents as quickly

complied with. Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by her two youngest

girls, reached Netherfield soon after the family breakfast.

 

Had she found Jane in any apparent danger, Mrs. Bennet would

have been very miserable; but being satisfied on seeing her,

that her illness was not alarming, she had no wish of her

recovering immediately, as her restoration to health would

probably remove her from Netherfield. She would not listen

therefore to her daughter's proposal of being carried home;

neither did the apothecary, who arrived about the same time,

think it at all advisable. After sitting a little while with

Jane, on Miss Bingley's appearance and invitation the mother

and three daughters all attended her into the breakfast

parlour. Bingley met them with hopes that Mrs. Bennet had not

found Miss Bennet worse than she expected.

 

"Indeed I have, Sir," was her answer. "She is a great deal too

ill to be moved. Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving

her. We must trespass a little longer on your kindness."

 

"Removed!" cried Bingley. "It must not be thought of. My

sister, I am sure, will not hear of her removal."

 

"You may depend upon it, Madam," said Miss Bingley, with cold

civility, "that Miss Bennet shall receive every possible

attention while she remains with us."

 

Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments.

 

"I am sure," she added, "if it was not for such good friends

I do not know what would become of her, for she is very ill

indeed, and suffers a vast deal, though with the greatest

patience in the world -- which is always the way with her, for

she has, without exception, the sweetest temper I ever met

with. I often tell my other girls they are nothing to _her_.

You have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and a charming

prospect over that gravel walk. I do not know a place in the

country that is equal to Netherfield. You will not think of

quitting it in a hurry I hope, though you have but a short

lease."

 

"Whatever I do is done in a hurry," replied he; "and therefore

if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be

off in five minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as

quite fixed here."

 

"That is exactly what I should have supposed of you," said

Elizabeth.

 

"You begin to comprehend me, do you?" cried he, turning

towards her.

 

"Oh! yes -- I understand you perfectly.".

 

"I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily

seen through I am afraid is pitiful."

 

"That is as it happens. It does not necessarily follow that a

deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than such a

one as yours."

 

"Lizzy," cried her mother, "remember where you are, and do not

run on in the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home."

 

"I did not know before," continued Bingley immediately,

"that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing

study."

 

"Yes; but intricate characters are the _most_ amusing. They

have at least that advantage."

 

"The country," said Darcy, "can in general supply but few

subjects for such a study. In a country neighbourhood you

move in a very confined and unvarying society."

 

"But people themselves alter so much, that there is something

new to be observed in them for ever."

 

"Yes, indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner of

mentioning a country neighbourhood. "I assure you there is

quite as much of _that_ going on in the country as in town."

 

Every body was surprised; and Darcy, after looking at her

for a moment, turned silently away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied

she had gained a complete victory over him, continued her

triumph.

 

"I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the

country for my part, except the shops and public places. The

country is a vast deal pleasanter, is not it, Mr. Bingley?"

 

"When I am in the country," he replied, "I never wish to

leave it; and when I am in town it is pretty much the same.

They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy

in either."

 

"Aye -- that is because you have the right disposition. But

that gentleman," looking at Darcy, "seemed to think the

country was nothing at all."

 

"Indeed, Mama, you are mistaken," said Elizabeth, blushing for

her mother. "You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that

there were not such a variety of people to be met with in the

country as in town, which you must acknowledge to be true."

 

"Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not

meeting with many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there

are few neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four and

twenty families."

 

Nothing but concern for Elizabeth could enable Bingley

to keep his countenance. His sister was less delicate, and

directed her eye towards Mr. Darcy with a very expressive