JANE AUSTEN 10 страница

otherwise have done; and the boys were relieved from their

apprehension of Charlotte's dying an old maid. Charlotte

herself was tolerably composed. She had gained her point, and

had time to consider of it. Her reflections were in general

satisfactory. Mr. Collins to be sure was neither sensible nor

agreeable; his society was irksome, and his attachment to her

must be imaginary. But still he would be her husband. --

Without thinking highly either of men or of matrimony, marriage

had always been her object; it was the only honourable

provision for well-educated young women of small fortune, and

however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their

pleasantest preservative from want. This preservative she had

now obtained; and at the age of twenty-seven, without having

ever been handsome, she felt all the good luck of it. The

least agreeable circumstance in the business was the surprise

it must occasion to Elizabeth Bennet, whose friendship she

valued beyond that of any other person. Elizabeth would

wonder, and probably would blame her; and though her resolution

was not to be shaken, her feelings must be hurt by such

disapprobation. She resolved to give her the information

herself, and therefore charged Mr. Collins, when he returned to

Longbourn to dinner, to drop no hint of what had passed before

any of the family. A promise of secrecy was of course very

dutifully given, but it could not be kept without difficulty;

for the curiosity excited by his long absence burst forth in

such very direct questions on his return, as required some

ingenuity to evade, and he was at the same time exercising

great self-denial, for he was longing to publish his prosperous

love.

 

As he was to begin his journey too early on the morrow to see

any of the family, the ceremony of leave-taking was performed

when the ladies moved for the night; and Mrs. Bennet, with

great politeness and cordiality, said how happy they should be

to see him at Longbourn again, whenever his other engagements

might allow him to visit them.

 

"My dear Madam," he replied, "this invitation is particularly

gratifying, because it is what I have been hoping to receive;

and you may be very certain that I shall avail myself of it as

soon as possible."

 

They were all astonished; and Mr. Bennet, who could by no means

wish for so speedy a return, immediately said,

 

"But is there not danger of Lady Catherine's disapprobation

here, my good sir? -- You had better neglect your relations,

than run the risk of offending your patroness."

 

"My dear sir, " replied Mr. Collins, "I am particularly obliged

to you for this friendly caution, and you may depend upon my

not taking so material a step without her ladyship's

concurrence."

 

"You cannot be too much on your guard. Risk any thing rather

than her displeasure; and if you find it likely to be raised by

your coming to us again, which I should think exceedingly

probable, stay quietly at home, and be satisfied that we shall

take no offence."

 

"Believe me, my dear sir, my gratitude is warmly excited by

such affectionate attention; and depend upon it, you will

speedily receive from me a letter of thanks for this, as well

as for every other mark of your regard during my stay in

Hertfordshire. As for my fair cousins, though my absence may

not be long enough to render it necessary, I shall now take the

liberty of wishing them health and happiness, not excepting my

cousin Elizabeth."

 

With proper civilities the ladies then withdrew; all of them

equally surprised to find that he meditated a quick return.

Mrs. Bennet wished to understand by it that he thought of

paying his addresses to one of her younger girls, and Mary

might have been prevailed on to accept him. She rated his

abilities much higher than any of the others; there was a

solidity in his reflections which often struck her, and though

by no means so clever as herself, she thought that if

encouraged to read and improve himself by such an example as

her's, he might become a very agreeable companion. But on the

following morning, every hope of this kind was done away. Miss

Lucas called soon after breakfast, and in a private conference

with Elizabeth related the event of the day before.

 

The possibility of Mr. Collins's fancying himself in love with

her friend had once occurred to Elizabeth within the last day

or two; but that Charlotte could encourage him, seemed almost

as far from possibility as that she could encourage him

herself, and her astonishment was consequently so great as to

overcome at first the bounds of decorum, and she could not help

crying out,

 

"Engaged to Mr. Collins! my dear Charlotte, -- impossible!"

 

The steady countenance which Miss Lucas had commanded in

telling her story, gave way to a momentary confusion here on

receiving so direct a reproach; though, as it was no more than

she expected, she soon regained her composure, and calmly

replied,

 

"Why should you be surprised, my dear Eliza? -- Do you think it

incredible that Mr. Collins should be able to procure any

woman's good opinion, because he was not so happy as to succeed

with you?"

 

But Elizabeth had now recollected herself, and making a strong

effort for it, was able to assure her with tolerable firmness

that the prospect of their relationship was highly grateful to

her, and that she wished her all imaginable happiness.

 

"I see what you are feeling," replied Charlotte, -- "you must

be surprised, very much surprised, -- so lately as Mr. Collins

was wishing to marry you. But when you have had time to think

it all over, I hope you will be satisfied with what I have

done. I am not romantic you know. I never was, I ask only a

comfortable home; and considering Mr. Collins's character,

connections, and situation in life, I am convinced that my

chance of happiness with him is as fair as most people can

boast on entering the marriage state."

 

Elizabeth quietly answered "Undoubtedly;" -- and after an

awkward pause, they returned to the rest of the family.

Charlotte did not stay much longer, and Elizabeth was then left

to reflect on what she had heard. It was a long time before

she became at all reconciled to the idea of so unsuitable a

match. The strangeness of Mr. Collins's making two offers of

marriage within three days, was nothing in comparison of his

being now accepted. She had always felt that Charlotte's

opinion of matrimony was not exactly like her own, but she

could not have supposed it possible that, when called into

action, she would have sacrificed every better feeling to

worldly advantage. Charlotte the wife of Mr. Collins, was a

most humiliating picture! -- And to the pang of a friend

disgracing herself and sunk in her esteem, was added the

distressing conviction that it was impossible for that friend

to be tolerably happy in the lot she had chosen.

 

__

 

<CHAPTER XXIII (23)>

 

ELIZABETH was sitting with her mother and sisters, reflecting

on what she had heard, and doubting whether she were authorised

to mention it, when Sir William Lucas himself appeared, sent by

his daughter to announce her engagement to the family. With

many compliments to them, and much self-gratulation on the

prospect of a connection between the houses, he unfolded the

matter, -- to an audience not merely wondering, but

incredulous; for Mrs. Bennet, with more perseverance than

politeness, protested he must be entirely mistaken, and Lydia,

always unguarded and often uncivil, boisterously exclaimed,

 

"Good Lord! Sir William, how can you tell such a story? --

Do not you know that Mr. Collins wants to marry Lizzy?"

 

Nothing less than the complaisance of a courtier could have

borne without anger such treatment; but Sir William's good

breeding carried him through it all; and though he begged leave

to be positive as to the truth of his information, he listened

to all their impertinence with the most forbearing courtesy.

 

Elizabeth, feeling it incumbent on her to relieve him from so

unpleasant a situation, now put herself forward to confirm his

account, by mentioning her prior knowledge of it from Charlotte

herself; and endeavoured to put a stop to the exclamations of

her mother and sisters, by the earnestness of her

congratulations to Sir William, in which she was readily joined

by Jane, and by making a variety of remarks on the happiness

that might be expected from the match, the excellent character

of Mr. Collins, and the convenient distance of Hunsford from

London.

 

Mrs. Bennet was in fact too much overpowered to say a great

deal while Sir William remained; but no sooner had he left them

than her feelings found a rapid vent. In the first place, she

persisted in disbelieving the whole of the matter; secondly,

she was very sure that Mr. Collins had been taken in; thirdly,

she trusted that they would never be happy together; and

fourthly, that the match might be broken off. Two inferences,

however, were plainly deduced from the whole; one, that

Elizabeth was the real cause of all the mischief; and the

other, that she herself had been barbarously used by them all;

and on these two points she principally dwelt during the rest

of the day. Nothing could console and nothing appease her. --

Nor did that day wear out her resentment. A week elapsed

before she could see Elizabeth without scolding her, a month

passed away before she could speak to Sir William or Lady Lucas

without being rude, and many months were gone before she could

at all forgive their daughter.

 

Mr. Bennet's emotions were much more tranquil on the occasion,

and such as he did experience he pronounced to be of a most

agreeable sort; for it gratified him, he said, to discover that

Charlotte Lucas, whom he had been used to think tolerably

sensible, was as foolish as his wife, and more foolish than his

daughter!

 

Jane confessed herself a little surprised at the match; but she

said less of her astonishment than of her earnest desire for

their happiness; nor could Elizabeth persuade her to consider

it as improbable. Kitty and Lydia were far from envying Miss

Lucas, for Mr. Collins was only a clergyman; and it affected

them in no other way than as a piece of news to spread at

Meryton.

 

Lady Lucas could not be insensible of triumph on being able to

retort on Mrs. Bennet the comfort of having a daughter well

married; and she called at Longbourn rather oftener than usual

to say how happy she was, though Mrs. Bennet's sour looks and

ill-natured remarks might have been enough to drive happiness

away.

 

Between Elizabeth and Charlotte there was a restraint which

kept them mutually silent on the subject; and Elizabeth

felt persuaded that no real confidence could ever subsist

between them again. Her disappointment in Charlotte made

her turn with fonder regard to her sister, of whose rectitude

and delicacy she was sure her opinion could never be shaken,

and for whose happiness she grew daily more anxious, as

Bingley had now been gone a week, and nothing was heard of

his return.

 

Jane had sent Caroline an early answer to her letter, and was

counting the days till she might reasonably hope to hear again.

The promised letter of thanks from Mr. Collins arrived on

Tuesday, addressed to their father, and written with all the

solemnity of gratitude which a twelvemonth's abode in the

family might have prompted. After discharging his conscience

on that head, he proceeded to inform them, with many rapturous

expressions, of his happiness in having obtained the affection

of their amiable neighbour, Miss Lucas, and then explained that

it was merely with the view of enjoying her society that he had

been so ready to close with their kind wish of seeing him again

at Longbourn, whither he hoped to be able to return on Monday

fortnight; for Lady Catherine, he added, so heartily approved

his marriage, that she wished it to take place as soon as

possible, which he trusted would 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 of 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 suspence 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.

 

Mrs. Bennet was really in a most pitiable state. The very

mention of any thing 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 were 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 any thing at all."

 

"Let us be thankful that you are preserved from a state of such

insensibility."

 

"I never can be thankful, Mr. Bennet, for any thing about the

entail. How any one 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.

 

__

<END OF VOL. I>

__

 

<VOLUME II>

<CHAPTER I (24)>

 

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 the 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 what ever 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,

 

"Oh! 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. A little time therefore. -- I shall

certainly try to get the better."

 

With a stronger voice she soon added, "I have this comfort

immediately, that it has not been more than an error of fancy

on my side, and that it has done no harm to any one but

myself."

 

"My dear Jane!" exclaimed Elizabeth, "you are too good.

Your sweetness and disinterestedness are really angelic; I do

not know what to say to you. I feel as if I had never done you

justice, or loved you as you deserve."

 

Miss Bennet eagerly disclaimed all extraordinary merit, and

threw back the praise on her sister's warm affection.

 

"Nay," said Elizabeth, "this is not fair. _You_ wish to think

all the world respectable, and are hurt if I speak ill of any

body. _I_ only want to think _you_ perfect, and you set

yourself against it. Do not be afraid of my running into any

excess, of my encroaching on your privilege of universal good

will. You need not. There are few people whom I really love,

and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the

world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day

confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human

characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on

the appearance of either merit or sense. I have met with two

instances lately; one I will not mention; the other is

Charlotte's marriage. It is unaccountable! in every view it

is unaccountable!"

 

"My dear Lizzy, do not give way to such feelings as these.

They will ruin your happiness. You do not make allowance

enough for difference of situation and temper. Consider

Mr. Collins's respectability, and Charlotte's prudent, steady

character. Remember that she is one of a large family; that as

to fortune, it is a most eligible match; and be ready to

believe, for every body's sake, that she may feel something

like regard and esteem for our cousin."

 

"To oblige you, I would try to believe almost any thing, but no

one else could be benefited by such a belief as this; for were

I persuaded that Charlotte had any regard for him, I should

only think worse of her understanding, than I now do of her

heart. My dear Jane, Mr. Collins is a conceited, pompous,

narrow-minded, silly man; you know he is, as well as I do; and

you must feel, as well as I do, that the woman who marries him,

cannot have a proper way of thinking. You shall not defend

her, though it is Charlotte Lucas. You shall not, for the sake

of one individual, change the meaning of principle and

integrity, nor endeavour to persuade yourself or me that

selfishness is prudence, and insensibility of danger, security

for happiness."

 

"I must think your language too strong in speaking of both,"

replied Jane, "and I hope you will be convinced of it, by

seeing them happy together. But enough of this. You alluded

to something else. You mentioned two instances. I cannot

misunderstand you, but I intreat you, dear Lizzy, not to pain

me by thinking _that_ _person_ to blame, and saying your

opinion of him is sunk. We must not be so ready to fancy

ourselves intentionally injured. We must not expect a lively

young man to be always so guarded and circumspect. It is very

often nothing but our own vanity that deceives us. Women fancy

admiration means more than it does."

 

"And men take care that they should."

 

"If it is designedly done, they cannot be justified; but I have

no idea of there being so much design in the world as some

persons imagine."

 

"I am far from attributing any part of Mr. Bingley's conduct to

design," said Elizabeth; "but without scheming to do wrong, or

to make others unhappy, there may be error, and there may be

misery. Thoughtlessness, want of attention to other people's

feelings, and want of resolution, will do the business,"

 

"And do you impute it to either of those?"

 

"Yes; to the last. But if I go on, I shall displease you by

saying what I think of persons you esteem. Stop me whilst you

can."

 

"You persist, then, in supposing his sisters influence him."

 

"Yes, in conjunction with his friend."

 

"I cannot believe it. Why should they try to influence him?

They can only wish his happiness, and if he is attached to me,

no other woman can secure it."

 

"Your first position is false. They may wish many things

besides his happiness; they may wish his increase of wealth and

consequence; they may wish him to marry a girl who has all the

importance of money, great connections, and pride."

 

"Beyond a doubt, they _do_ wish him to chuse Miss Darcy,"

replied Jane; "but this may be from better feelings than you

are supposing. They have known her much longer than they have

known me; no wonder if they love her better. But, whatever

may be their own wishes, it is very unlikely they should have

opposed their brother's. What sister would think herself at

liberty to do it, unless there were something very

objectionable? If they believed him attached to me, they would

not try to part us; if he were so, they could not succeed.

By supposing such an affection, you make every body acting

unnaturally and wrong, and me most unhappy. Do not distress

me by the idea. I am not ashamed of having been mistaken --

or, at least, it is slight, it is nothing in comparison of what

I should feel in thinking ill of him or his sisters. Let me

take it in the best light, in the light in which it may be