JANE AUSTEN 12 страница

short, as the time drew near, she would have been very sorry

for any delay. Every thing, however, went on smoothly, and was

finally settled according to Charlotte's first sketch. She was

to accompany Sir William and his second daughter. The

improvement of spending a night in London was added in time,

and the plan became perfect as plan could be.

 

The only pain was in leaving her father, who would certainly

miss her, and who, when it came to the point, so little liked

her going that he told her to write to him, and almost promised

to answer her letter.

 

The farewell between herself and Mr. Wickham was perfectly

friendly; on his side even more. His present pursuit could not

make him forget that Elizabeth had been the first to excite and

to deserve his attention, the first to listen and to pity, the

first to be admired; and in his manner of bidding her adieu,

wishing her every enjoyment, reminding her of what she was to

expect in Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and trusting their opinion

of her -- their opinion of every body -- would always coincide,

there was a solicitude, an interest which she felt must ever

attach her to him with a most sincere regard; and she parted

from him convinced that, whether married or single, he must

always be her model of the amiable and pleasing.

 

Her fellow-travellers the next day were not of a kind to make

her think him less agreeable. Sir William Lucas and his

daughter Maria, a good humoured girl, but as empty-headed as

himself, had nothing to say that could be worth hearing, and

were listened to with about as much delight as the rattle of

the chaise. Elizabeth loved absurdities, but she had known Sir

William's too long. He could tell her nothing new of the

wonders of his presentation and knighthood; and his civilities

were worn out like his information.

 

It was a journey of only twenty-four miles, and they began it

so early as to be in Gracechurch-street by noon. As they drove

to Mr. Gardiner's door, Jane was at a drawing-room window

watching their arrival; when they entered the passage she was

there to welcome them, and Elizabeth, looking earnestly in her

face, was pleased to see it healthful and lovely as ever. On

the stairs were a troop of little boys and girls, whose

eagerness for their cousin's appearance would not allow them to

wait in the drawing-room, and whose shyness, as they had not

seen her for a twelvemonth, prevented their coming lower. All

was joy and kindness. The day passed most pleasantly away; the

morning in bustle and shopping, and the evening at one of the

theatres.

 

Elizabeth then contrived to sit by her aunt. Their first

subject was her sister; and she was more grieved than

astonished to hear, in reply to her minute enquiries, that

though Jane always struggled to support her spirits, there were

periods of dejection. It was reasonable, however, to hope,

that they would not continue long. Mrs. Gardiner gave her the

particulars also of Miss Bingley's visit in Gracechurch-street,

and repeated conversations occurring at different times between

Jane and herself, which proved that the former had, from her

heart, given up the acquaintance.

 

Mrs. Gardiner then rallied her niece on Wickham's desertion,

and complimented her on bearing it so well.

 

"But, my dear Elizabeth," she added, "what sort of girl is Miss

King? I should be sorry to think our friend mercenary."

 

"Pray, my dear aunt, what is the difference in matrimonial

affairs, between the mercenary and the prudent motive? Where

does discretion end, and avarice begin? Last Christmas you

were afraid of his marrying me, because it would be imprudent;

and now, because he is trying to get a girl with only ten

thousand pounds, you want to find out that he is mercenary."

 

"If you will only tell me what sort of girl Miss King is,

I shall know what to think."

 

"She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I know no harm of

her."

 

"But he paid her not the smallest attention, till her

grandfather's death made her mistress of this fortune."

 

"No -- why should he? If it was not allowable for him to gain

_my_ affections, because I had no money, what occasion could

there be for making love to a girl whom he did not care about,

and who was equally poor?"

 

"But there seems indelicacy in directing his attentions towards

her, so soon after this event."

 

"A man in distressed circumstances has not time for all those

elegant decorums which other people may observe. If _she_ does

not object to it, why should _we_?"

 

"_Her_ not objecting, does not justify _him_. It only shews

her being deficient in something herself -- sense or feeling."

 

"Well," cried Elizabeth, "have it as you choose. _He_ shall be

mercenary, and _she_ shall be foolish."

 

"No, Lizzy, that is what I do _not_ choose. I should be sorry,

you know, to think ill of a young man who has lived so long in

Derbyshire."

 

"Oh! if that is all, I have a very poor opinion of young men

who live in Derbyshire; and their intimate friends who live in

Hertfordshire are not much better. I am sick of them all.

Thank Heaven! I am going to-morrow where I shall find a man

who has not one agreeable quality, who has neither manner nor

sense to recommend him. Stupid men are the only ones worth

knowing, after all."

 

"Take care, Lizzy; that speech savours strongly of

disappointment."

 

Before they were separated by the conclusion of the play, she

had the unexpected happiness of an invitation to accompany her

uncle and aunt in a tour of pleasure which they proposed taking

in the summer.

 

"We have not quite determined how far it shall carry us," said

Mrs. Gardiner, "but perhaps to the Lakes."

 

No scheme could have been more agreeable to Elizabeth, and her

acceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful. "My

dear, dear aunt," she rapturously cried, "what delight! what

felicity! You give me fresh life and vigour. Adieu to

disappointment and spleen. What are men to rocks and

mountains? Oh! what hours of transport we shall spend! And

when we _do_ return, it shall not be like other travellers,

without being able to give one accurate idea of any thing. We

_will_ know where we have gone -- we _will_ recollect what we

have seen. Lakes, mountains, and rivers, shall not be jumbled

together in our imaginations; nor, when we attempt to describe

any particular scene, will we begin quarrelling about its

relative situation. Let _our_ first effusions be less

insupportable than those of the generality of travellers."

 

__

 

<CHAPTER V (28)>

 

EVERY object in the next day's journey was new and interesting

to Elizabeth; and her spirits were in a state for enjoyment;

for she had seen her sister looking so well as to banish all

fear for her health, and the prospect of her northern tour was

a constant source of delight.

 

When they left the high-road for the lane to Hunsford, every

eye was in search of the Parsonage, and every turning expected

to bring it in view. The palings of Rosings Park was their

boundary on one side. Elizabeth smiled at the recollection of

all that she had heard of its inhabitants.

 

At length the Parsonage was discernable. The garden sloping to

the road, the house standing in it, the green pales and the

laurel hedge, everything declared that they were arriving.

Mr. Collins and Charlotte appeared at the door, and the

carriage stopped at a small gate, which led by a short gravel

walk to the house, amidst the nods and smiles of the whole

party. In a moment they were all out of the chaise, rejoicing

at the sight of each other. Mrs. Collins welcomed her friend

with the liveliest pleasure, and Elizabeth was more and more

satisfied with coming, when she found herself so affectionately

received. She saw instantly that her cousin's manners were not

altered by his marriage; his formal civility was just what it

had been, and he detained her some minutes at the gate to hear

and satisfy his enquiries after all her family. They were

then, with no other delay than his pointing out the neatness of

the entrance, taken into the house; and as soon as they were in

the parlour, he welcomed them a second time with ostentatious

formality to his humble abode, and punctually repeated all his

wife's offers of refreshment.

 

Elizabeth was prepared to see him in his glory; and she could

not help fancying that in displaying the good proportion of the

room, its aspect and its furniture, he addressed himself

particularly to her, as if wishing to make her feel what she

had lost in refusing him. But though every thing seemed neat

and comfortable, she was not able to gratify him by any sigh of

repentance; and rather looked with wonder at her friend that

she could have so cheerful an air, with such a companion. When

Mr. Collins said any thing of which his wife might reasonably

be ashamed, which certainly was not unseldom, she involuntarily

turned her eye on Charlotte. Once or twice she could discern a

faint blush; but in general Charlotte wisely did not hear.

After sitting long enough to admire every article of furniture

in the room, from the sideboard to the fender, to give an

account of their journey, and of all that had happened in

London, Mr. Collins invited them to take a stroll in the

garden, which was large and well laid out, and to the

cultivation of which he attended himself. To work in his

garden was one of his most respectable pleasures; and Elizabeth

admired the command of countenance with which Charlotte talked

of the healthfulnes of the excercise, and owned she encouraged

it as much as possible. Here, leading the way through every

walk and cross walk, and scarcely allowing them an interval to

utter the praises he asked for, every view was pointed out with

a minuteness which left beauty entirely behind. He could

number the fields in every direction, and could tell how many

trees there were in the most distant clump. But of all the

views which his garden, or which the country, or the kingdom

could boast, none were to be compared with the prospect of

Rosings, afforded by an opening in the trees that bordered the

park nearly opposite the front of his house. It was a handsome

modern building, well situated on rising ground.

 

From his garden, Mr. Collins would have led them round his two

meadows, but the ladies, not having shoes to encounter the

remains of a white frost, turned back; and while Sir William

accompanied him, Charlotte took her sister and friend over the

house, extremely well pleased, probably, to have the

opportunity of shewing it without her husband's help. It was

rather small, but well built and convenient; and everything was

fitted up and arranged with a neatness and consistency of which

Elizabeth gave Charlotte all the credit. When Mr. Collins

could be forgotten, there was really a great air of comfort

throughout, and by Charlotte's evident enjoyment of it,

Elizabeth supposed he must be often forgotten. She had already

learnt that Lady Catherine was still in the country. It was

spoken of again while they were at dinner, when Mr. Collins

joining in, observed,

 

"Yes, Miss Elizabeth, you will have the honour of seeing Lady

Catherine de Bourgh on the ensuing Sunday at church, and I need

not say you will be delighted with her. She is all affability

and condescension, and I doubt not but you will be honoured

with some portion of her notice when service is over. I have

scarcely any hesitation in saying that she will include you and

my sister Maria in every invitation with which she honours us

during your stay here. Her behaviour to my dear Charlotte is

charming. We dine at Rosings twice every week, and are never

allowed to walk home. Her ladyship's carriage is regularly

ordered for us. I _should_ say, one of her ladyship's

carriages, for she has several."

 

"Lady Catherine is a very respectable, sensible woman indeed,"

added Charlotte, "and a most attentive neighbour."

 

"Very true, my dear, that is exactly what I say. She is the

sort of woman whom one cannot regard with too much deference."

 

The evening was spent chiefly in talking over Hertfordshire

news, and telling again what had been already written; and when

it closed, Elizabeth, in the solitude of her chamber, had to

meditate upon Charlotte's degree of contentment, to understand

her address in guiding, and composure in bearing with her

husband, and to acknowledge that it was all done very well.

She had also to anticipate how her visit would pass, the quiet

tenor of their usual employments, the vexatious interruptions

of Mr. Collins, and the gaieties of their intercourse with

Rosings. A lively imagination soon settled it all. About the

middle of the next day, as she was in her room getting ready

for a walk, a sudden noise below seemed to speak the whole

house in confusion; and after listening a moment, she heard

somebody running up stairs in a violent hurry, and calling

loudly after her. She opened the door, and met Maria in the

landing place, who, breathless with agitation, cried out,

 

"Oh, my dear Eliza! pray make haste and come into the

dining-room, for there is such a sight to be seen! I will not

tell you what it is. Make haste, and come down this moment."

 

Elizabeth asked questions in vain; Maria would tell her nothing

more, and down they ran into the dining-room, which fronted the

lane, in quest of this wonder; it was two ladies stopping in a

low phaeton at the garden gate.

 

"And is this all?" cried Elizabeth. "I expected at least that

the pigs were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady

Catherine and her daughter!"

 

"La! my dear," said Maria quite shocked at the mistake, "it is

not Lady Catherine. The old lady is Mrs. Jenkinson, who lives

with them. The other is Miss De Bourgh. Only look at her.

She is quite a little creature. Who would have thought she

could be so thin and small!"

 

"She is abominably rude to keep Charlotte out of doors in all

this wind. Why does she not come in?"

 

"Oh! Charlotte says, she hardly ever does. It is the greatest

of favours when Miss De Bourgh comes in."

 

"I like her appearance," said Elizabeth, struck with other

ideas. "She looks sickly and cross. -- Yes, she will do for

him very well. She will make him a very proper wife."

 

Mr. Collins and Charlotte were both standing at the gate in

conversation with the ladies; and Sir William, to Elizabeth's

high diversion, was stationed in the doorway, in earnest

contemplation of the greatness before him, and constantly

bowing whenever Miss De Bourgh looked that way.

 

At length there was nothing more to be said; the ladies drove

on, and the others returned into the house. Mr. Collins no

sooner saw the two girls than he began to congratulate them on

their good fortune, which Charlotte explained by letting them

know that the whole party was asked to dine at Rosings the next

day.

 

__

 

<CHAPTER VI (29)>

 

MR. Collins's triumph in consequence of this invitation was

complete. The power of displaying the grandeur of his

patroness to his wondering visitors, and of letting them see

her civility towards himself and his wife, was exactly what he

had wished for; and that an opportunity of doing it should be

given so soon was such an instance of Lady Catherine's

condescension as he knew not how to admire enough.

 

"I confess," said he, "that I should not have been at all

surprised by her Ladyship's asking us on Sunday to drink tea

and spend the evening at Rosings. I rather expected, from my

knowledge of her affability, that it would happen. But who

could have foreseen such an attention as this? Who could have

imagined that we should receive an invitation to dine there (an

invitation moreover including the whole party) so immediately

after your arrival!"

 

"I am the less surprised at what has happened," replied Sir

William, "from that knowledge of what the manners of the great

really are, which my situation in life has allowed me to

acquire. About the Court, such instances of elegant breeding

are not uncommon."

 

Scarcely any thing was talked of the whole day, or next

morning, but their visit to Rosings. Mr. Collins was carefully

instructing them in what they were to expect, that the sight of

such rooms, so many servants, and so splendid a dinner might

not wholly overpower them.

 

When the ladies were separating for the toilette, he said to

Elizabeth,

 

"Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your

apparel. Lady Catherine is far from requiring that elegance of

dress in us, which becomes herself and daughter. I would

advise you merely to put on whatever of your clothes is

superior to the rest, there is no occasion for any thing more.

Lady Catherine will not think the worse of you for being simply

dressed. She likes to have the distinction of rank preserved."

 

While they were dressing, he came two or three times to their

different doors, to recommend their being quick, as Lady

Catherine very much objected to be kept waiting for her

dinner. -- Such formidable accounts of her ladyship, and her

manner of living, quite frightened Maria Lucas, who had been

little used to company, and she looked forward to her

introduction at Rosings with as much apprehension, as her

father had done to his presentation at St. James's.

 

As the weather was fine, they had a pleasant walk of about half

a mile across the park. -- Every park has its beauty and its

prospects; and Elizabeth saw much to be pleased with, though

she could not be in such raptures as Mr. Collins expected the

scene to inspire, and was but slightly affected by his

enumeration of the windows in front of the house, and his

relation of what the glazing altogether had originally cost Sir

Lewis De Bourgh.

 

When they ascended the steps to the hall, Maria's alarm was

every moment increasing, and even Sir William did not look

perfectly calm. -- Elizabeth's courage did not fail her. She

had heard nothing of Lady Catherine that spoke her awful from

any extraordinary talents or miraculous virtue, and the mere

stateliness of money and rank she thought she could witness

without trepidation.

 

From the entrance hall, of which Mr. Collins pointed out, with

a rapturous air, the fine proportion and finished ornaments,

they followed the servants through an ante-chamber, to the room

where Lady Catherine, her daughter, and Mrs. Jenkinson were

sitting. -- Her ladyship, with great condescension, arose to

receive them; and as Mrs. Collins had settled it with her

husband that the office of introduction should be her's, it was

performed in a proper manner, without any of those apologies

and thanks which he would have thought necessary.

 

In spite of having been at St. James's, Sir William was so

completely awed by the grandeur surrounding him, that he had

but just courage enough to make a very low bow, and take his

seat without saying a word; and his daughter, frightened almost

out of her senses, sat on the edge of her chair, not knowing

which way to look. Elizabeth found herself quite equal to the

scene, and could observe the three ladies before her

composedly. -- Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman, with

strongly-marked features, which might once have been handsome.

Her air was not conciliating, nor was her manner of receiving

them such as to make her visitors forget their inferior rank.

She was not rendered formidable by silence; but whatever she

said was spoken in so authoritative a tone as marked her

self-importance, and brought Mr. Wickham immediately to

Elizabeth's mind; and from the observation of the day

altogether, she believed Lady Catherine to be exactly what he

had represented.

 

When, after examining the mother, in whose countenance and

deportment she soon found some resemblance of Mr. Darcy, she

turned her eyes on the daughter, she could almost have joined

in Maria's astonishment at her being so thin, and so small.

There was neither in figure nor face any likeness between the

ladies. Miss De Bourgh was pale and sickly; her features,

though not plain, were insignificant; and she spoke very

little, except in a low voice to Mrs. Jenkinson, in whose

appearance there was nothing remarkable, and who was entirely

engaged in listening to what she said, and placing a screen in

the proper direction before her eyes.

 

After sitting a few minutes, they were all sent to one of the

windows to admire the view, Mr. Collins attending them to point

out its beauties, and Lady Catherine kindly informing them that

it was much better worth looking at in the summer.

 

The dinner was exceedingly handsome, and there were all the

servants, and all the articles of plate which Mr. Collins had

promised; and, as he had likewise foretold, he took his seat at

the bottom of the table, by her ladyship's desire, and looked

as if he felt that life could furnish nothing greater. -- He

carved, and ate, and praised with delighted alacrity; and every

dish was commended, first by him, and then by Sir William, who

was now enough recovered to echo whatever his son in law said,

in a manner which Elizabeth wondered Lady Catherine could bear.

But Lady Catherine seemed gratified by their excessive

admiration, and gave most gracious smiles, especially when any

dish on the table proved a novelty to them. The party did not

supply much conversation. Elizabeth was ready to speak

whenever there was an opening, but she was seated between

Charlotte and Miss De Bourgh -- the former of whom was engaged

in listening to Lady Catherine, and the latter said not a word

to her all dinner time. Mrs. Jenkinson was chiefly employed in

watching how little Miss De Bourgh ate, pressing her to try

some other dish, and fearing she were indisposed. Maria

thought speaking out of the question, and the gentlemen did

nothing but eat and admire.

 

When the ladies returned to the drawing room, there was little

to be done but to hear Lady Catherine talk, which she did

without any intermission till coffee came in, delivering her

opinion on every subject in so decisive a manner as proved that

she was not used to have her judgment controverted. She

enquired into Charlotte's domestic concerns familiarly and

minutely, and gave her a great deal of advice as to the

management of them all; told her how every thing ought to be

regulated in so small a family as her's, and instructed her as

to the care of her cows and her poultry. Elizabeth found that

nothing was beneath this great lady's attention, which could

furnish her with an occasion of dictating to others. In the

intervals of her discourse with Mrs. Collins, she addressed a

variety of questions to Maria and Elizabeth, but especially to

the latter, of whose connections she knew the least, and who,

she observed to Mrs. Collins, was a very genteel, pretty kind

of girl. She asked her at different times, how many sisters

she had, whether they were older or younger than herself,

whether any of them were likely to be married, whether they

were handsome, where they had been educated, what carriage her

father kept, and what had been her mother's maiden name? --

Elizabeth felt all the impertinence of her questions, but

answered them very composedly. -- Lady Catherine then observed,

 

"Your father's estate is entailed on Mr. Collins, I think.

For your sake," turning to Charlotte, "I am glad of it; but

otherwise I see no occasion for entailing estates from the

female line. -- It was not thought necessary in Sir Lewis de

Bourgh's family. -- Do you play and sing, Miss Bennet?"

 

"A little."

 

"Oh! then -- some time or other we shall be happy to hear you.

Our instrument is a capital one, probably superior to -- You

shall try it some day. -- Do your sisters play and sing?"

 

"One of them does."

 

"Why did not you all learn? -- You ought all to have learned.

The Miss Webbs all play, and their father has not so good an

income as your's. -- Do you draw?"

 

"No, not at all."

 

"What, none of you?"

 

"Not one."

 

"That is very strange. But I suppose you had no opportunity.

Your mother should have taken you to town every spring for the

benefit of masters."

 

"My mother would have had no objection, but my father hates

London."

 

"Has your governess left you?"

 

"We never had any governess."

 

"No governess! How was that possible? Five daughters brought

up at home without a governess! -- I never heard of such a

thing. Your mother must have been quite a slave to your

education."

 

Elizabeth could hardly help smiling, as she assured her that

had not been the case.

 

"Then, who taught you? who attended to you? Without a

governess you must have been neglected."

 

"Compared with some families, I believe we were; but such of

us as wished to learn, never wanted the means. We were always