JANE AUSTEN 16 страница

he had done, and the inconsistency of his professions with his

conduct. She remembered that he had boasted of having no fear

of seeing Mr. Darcy -- that Mr. Darcy might leave the country,

but that _he_ should stand his ground; yet he had avoided the

Netherfield ball the very next week. She remembered also, that

till the Netherfield family had quitted the country, he had

told his story to no one but herself; but that after their

removal, it had been every where discussed; that he had then no

reserves, no scruples in sinking Mr. Darcy's character, though

he had assured her that respect for the father would always

prevent his exposing the son.

 

How differently did every thing now appear in which he was

concerned! His attentions to Miss King were now the

consequence of views solely and hatefully mercenary; and the

mediocrity of her fortune proved no longer the moderation of

his wishes, but his eagerness to grasp at any thing. His

behaviour to herself could now have had no tolerable motive; he

had either been deceived with regard to her fortune, or had

been gratifying his vanity by encouraging the preference which

she believed she had most incautiously shewn. Every lingering

struggle in his favour grew fainter and fainter; and in farther

justification of Mr. Darcy, she could not but allow that

Mr. Bingley, when questioned by Jane, had long ago asserted his

blamelessness in the affair; that, proud and repulsive as were

his manners, she had never, in the whole course of their

acquaintance -- an acquaintance which had latterly brought them

much together, and given her a sort of intimacy with his ways

-- seen any thing that betrayed him to be unprincipled or

unjust -- any thing that spoke him of irreligious or immoral

habits. That among his own connections he was esteemed and

valued -- that even Wickham had allowed him merit as a brother,

and that she had often heard him speak so affectionately of his

sister as to prove him capable of _some_ amiable feeling. That

had his actions been what Wickham represented them, so gross a

violation of every thing right could hardly have been concealed

from the world; and that friendship between a person capable of

it, and such an amiable man as Mr. Bingley, was

incomprehensible.

 

She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. -- Of neither Darcy nor

Wickham could she think, without feeling that she had been

blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd.

 

"How despicably have I acted!" she cried. -- "I, who have

prided myself on my discernment! -- I, who have valued myself

on my abilities! who have often disdained the generous candour

of my sister, and gratified my vanity, in useless or blameable

distrust. -- How humiliating is this discovery! -- Yet, how

just a humiliation! -- Had I been in love, I could not have

been more wretchedly blind. But vanity, not love, has been my

folly. -- Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by

the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our

acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and

driven reason away, where either were concerned. Till this

moment, I never knew myself."

 

From herself to Jane -- from Jane to Bingley, her thoughts

were in a line which soon brought to her recollection that

Mr. Darcy's explanation _there_ had appeared very insufficient;

and she read it again. Widely different was the effect of a

second perusal. -- How could she deny that credit to his

assertions, in one instance, which she had been obliged to

give in the other? -- He declared himself to have been totally

unsuspicious of her sister's attachment; -- and she could not

help remembering what Charlotte's opinion had always been.

-- Neither could she deny the justice of his description of

Jane. -- She felt that Jane's feelings, though fervent, were

little displayed, and that there was a constant complacency in

her air and manner not often united with great sensibility.

 

When she came to that part of the letter in which her family

were mentioned, in terms of such mortifying yet merited

reproach, her sense of shame was severe. The justice of the

charge struck her too forcibly for denial, and the

circumstances to which he particularly alluded, as having

passed at the Netherfield ball, and as confirming all his first

disapprobation, could not have made a stronger impression on

his mind than on hers. The compliment to herself and her

sister was not unfelt. It soothed, but it could not console

her for the contempt which had been thus self-attracted by the

rest of her family; -- and as she considered that Jane's

disappointment had in fact been the work of her nearest

relations, and reflected how materially the credit of both must

be hurt by such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed

beyond any thing she had ever known before.

 

After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way to

every variety of thought; re-considering events, determining

probabilities, and reconciling herself, as well as she could,

to a change so sudden and so important, fatigue, and a

recollection of her long absence made her at length return

home; and she entered the house with the wish of appearing

cheerful as usual, and the resolution of repressing such

reflections as must make her unfit for conversation.

 

She was immediately told, that the two gentlemen from Rosings

had each called during her absence; Mr. Darcy, only for a few

minutes to take leave, but that Colonel Fitzwilliam had been

sitting with them at least an hour, hoping for her return, and

almost resolving to walk after her till she could be found. --

Elizabeth could but just _affect_ concern in missing him; she

really rejoiced at it. Colonel Fitzwilliam was no longer an

object. She could think only of her letter.

 

__

 

<CHAPTER XIV (37)>

 

THE two gentlemen left Rosings the next morning; and Mr.

Collins having been in waiting near the lodges, to make them

his parting obeisance, was able to bring home the pleasing

intelligence of their appearing in very good health, and in as

tolerable spirits as could be expected, after the melancholy

scene so lately gone through at Rosings. To Rosings he then

hastened to console Lady Catherine and her daughter; and on his

return brought back, with great satisfaction, a message from

her ladyship, importing that she felt herself so dull as to

make her very desirous of having them all to dine with her.

 

Elizabeth could not see Lady Catherine without recollecting

that, had she chosen it, she might by this time have been

presented to her as her future niece; nor could she think,

without a smile, of what her ladyship's indignation would have

been. "What would she have said? -- how would she have

behaved?" were questions with which she amused herself.

 

Their first subject was the diminution of the Rosings party.

-- "I assure you, I feel it exceedingly," said Lady Catherine;

"I believe nobody feels the loss of friends so much as I do.

But I am particularly attached to these young men; and know

them to be so much attached to me! -- They were excessively

sorry to go! But so they always are. The dear colonel rallied

his spirits tolerably till just at last; but Darcy seemed to

feel it most acutely, more I think than last year. His

attachment to Rosings, certainly increases."

 

Mr. Collins had a compliment, and an allusion to throw in here,

which were kindly smiled on by the mother and daughter.

 

Lady Catherine observed, after dinner, that Miss Bennet seemed

out of spirits; and immediately accounting for it herself, by

supposing that she did not like to go home again so soon, she

added,

 

"But if that is the case, you must write to your mother to beg

that you may stay a little longer. Mrs. Collins will be very

glad of your company, I am sure."

 

"I am much obliged to your ladyship for your kind invitation,"

replied Elizabeth, "but it is not in my power to accept it. --

I must be in town next Saturday."

 

"Why, at that rate, you will have been here only six weeks.

I expected you to stay two months. I told Mrs. Collins so

before you came. There can be no occasion for your going so

soon. Mrs. Bennet could certainly spare you for another

fortnight."

 

"But my father cannot. -- He wrote last week to hurry my

return."

 

"Oh! your father of course may spare you, if your mother

can. -- Daughters are never of so much consequence to a father.

And if you will stay another _month_ complete, it will be in my

power to take one of you as far as London, for I am going there

early in June, for a week; and as Dawson does not object to the

Barouche box, there will be very good room for one of you --

and indeed, if the weather should happen to be cool, I should

not object to taking you both, as you are neither of you

large."

 

"You are all kindness, Madam; but I believe we must abide by

our original plan."

 

Lady Catherine seemed resigned.

 

"Mrs. Collins, you must send a servant with them. You know I

always speak my mind, and I cannot bear the idea of two young

women travelling post by themselves. It is highly improper.

You must contrive to send somebody. I have the greatest

dislike in the world to that sort of thing. -- Young women

should always be properly guarded and attended, according to

their situation in life. When my niece Georgiana went to

Ramsgate last summer, I made a point of her having two men

servants go with her. -- Miss Darcy, the daughter of Mr. Darcy

of Pemberley, and Lady Anne, could not have appeared with

propriety in a different manner. -- I am excessively attentive

to all those things. You must send John with the young ladies,

Mrs. Collins. I am glad it occurred to me to mention it; for

it would really be discreditable to you to let them go alone."

 

"My uncle is to send a servant for us."

 

"Oh! -- Your uncle! -- He keeps a man-servant, does he? -- I am

very glad you have somebody who thinks of those things. Where

shall you change horses? -- Oh! Bromley, of course. -- If you

mention my name at the Bell, you will be attended to."

 

Lady Catherine had many other questions to ask respecting their

journey, and as she did not answer them all herself, attention

was necessary, which Elizabeth believed to be lucky for her,

or, with a mind so occupied, she might have forgotten where she

was. Reflection must be reserved for solitary hours; whenever

she was alone, she gave way to it as the greatest relief; and

not a day went by without a solitary walk, in which she might

indulge in all the delight of unpleasant recollections.

 

Mr. Darcy's letter, she was in a fair way of soon knowing by

heart. She studied every sentence: and her feelings towards

its writer were at times widely different. When she remembered

the style of his address, she was still full of indignation;

but when she considered how unjustly she had condemned and

upbraided him, her anger was turned against herself; and his

disappointed feelings became the object of compassion. His

attachment excited gratitude, his general character respect;

but she could not approve him; nor could she for a moment

repent her refusal, or feel the slightest inclination ever to

see him again. In her own past behaviour, there was a constant

source of vexation and regret; and in the unhappy defects of

her family a subject of yet heavier chagrin. They were

hopeless of remedy. Her father, contented with laughing at

them, would never exert himself to restrain the wild giddiness

of his youngest daughters; and her mother, with manners so far

from right herself, was entirely insensible of the evil.

Elizabeth had frequently united with Jane in an endeavour to

check the imprudence of Catherine and Lydia; but while they

were supported by their mother's indulgence, what chance could

there be of improvement? Catherine, weak-spirited, irritable,

and completely under Lydia's guidance, had been always

affronted by their advice; and Lydia, self-willed and careless,

would scarcely give them a hearing. They were ignorant, idle,

and vain. While there was an officer in Meryton, they would

flirt with him; and while Meryton was within a walk of

Longbourn, they would be going there for ever.

 

Anxiety on Jane's behalf was another prevailing concern, and

Mr. Darcy's explanation, by restoring Bingley to all her former

good opinion, heightened the sense of what Jane had lost. His

affection was proved to have been sincere, and his conduct

cleared of all blame, unless any could attach to the

implicitness of his confidence in his friend. How grievous

then was the thought that, of a situation so desirable in every

respect, so replete with advantage, so promising for happiness,

Jane had been deprived, by the folly and indecorum of her own

family!

 

When to these recollections was added the developement of

Wickham's character, it may be easily believed that the happy

spirits which had seldom been depressed before, were now so

much affected as to make it almost impossible for her to appear

tolerably cheerful.

 

Their engagements at Rosings were as frequent during the last

week of her stay as they had been at first. The very last

evening was spent there; and her Ladyship again enquired

minutely into the particulars of their journey, gave them

directions as to the best method of packing, and was so urgent

on the necessity of placing gowns in the only right way, that

Maria thought herself obliged, on her return, to undo all the

work of the morning, and pack her trunk afresh.

 

When they parted, Lady Catherine, with great condescension,

wished them a good journey, and invited them to come to

Hunsford again next year; and Miss De Bourgh exerted herself so

far as to curtsey and hold out her hand to both.

 

__

 

<CHAPTER XV (38)>

 

ON Saturday morning Elizabeth and Mr. Collins met for breakfast

a few minutes before the others appeared; and he took the

opportunity of paying the parting civilities which he deemed

indispensably necessary.

 

"I know not, Miss Elizabeth," said he, "whether Mrs. Collins

has yet expressed her sense of your kindness in coming to us,

but I am very certain you will not leave the house without

receiving her thanks for it. The favour of your company has

been much felt, I assure you. We know how little there is to

tempt any one to our humble abode. Our plain manner of living,

our small rooms, and few domestics, and the little we see of

the world, must make Hunsford extremely dull to a young lady

like yourself; but I hope you will believe us grateful for the

condescension, and that we have done every thing in our power

to prevent your spending your time unpleasantly."

 

Elizabeth was eager with her thanks and assurances of

happiness. She had spent six weeks with great enjoyment; and

the pleasure of being with Charlotte, and the kind attentions

she had received, must make _her_ feel the obliged.

Mr. Collins was gratified; and with a more smiling solemnity

replied,

 

"It gives me the greatest pleasure to hear that you have passed

your time not disagreeably. We have certainly done our best;

and most fortunately having it in our power to introduce you to

very superior society, and, from our connection with Rosings,

the frequent means of varying the humble home scene, I think we

may flatter ourselves that your Hunsford visit cannot have been

entirely irksome. Our situation with regard to Lady

Catherine's family is indeed the sort of extraordinary

advantage and blessing which few can boast. You see on what a

footing we are. You see how continually we are engaged there.

In truth I must acknowledge that, with all the disadvantages of

this humble parsonage, I should not think any one abiding in it

an object of compassion while they are sharers of our intimacy

at Rosings."

 

Words were insufficient for the elevation of his feelings;

and he was obliged to walk about the room, while Elizabeth

tried to unite civility and truth in a few short sentences.

 

"You may, in fact, carry a very favourable report of us into

Hertfordshire, my dear cousin. I flatter myself, at least,

that you will be able to do so. Lady Catherine's great

attentions to Mrs. Collins you have been a daily witness of;

and altogether I trust it does not appear that your friend has

drawn an unfortunate --; but on this point it will be as well

to be silent. Only let me assure you, my dear Miss Elizabeth,

that I can from my heart most cordially wish you equal felicity

in marriage. My dear Charlotte and I have but one mind and one

way of thinking. There is in every thing a most remarkable

resemblance of character and ideas between us. We seem to have

been designed for each other."

 

Elizabeth could safely say that it was a great happiness where

that was the case, and with equal sincerity could add that she

firmly believed and rejoiced in his domestic comforts. She was

not sorry, however, to have the recital of them interrupted by

the entrance of the lady from whom they sprung. Poor

Charlotte! -- it was melancholy to leave her to such society!

-- But she had chosen it with her eyes open; and though

evidently regretting that her visitors were to go, she did not

seem to ask for compassion. Her home and her housekeeping, her

parish and her poultry, and all their dependent concerns, had

not yet lost their charms.

 

At length the chaise arrived, the trunks were fastened on, the

parcels placed within, and it was pronounced to be ready.

After an affectionate parting between the friends, Elizabeth

was attended to the carriage by Mr. Collins, and as they walked

down the garden, he was commissioning her with his best

respects to all her family, not forgetting his thanks for the

kindness he had received at Longbourn in the winter, and his

compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, though unknown. He then

handed her in, Maria followed, and the door was on the point of

being closed, when he suddenly reminded them, with some

consternation, that they had hitherto forgotten to leave any

message for the ladies at Rosings.

 

"But," he added, "you will of course wish to have your humble

respects delivered to them, with your grateful thanks for their

kindness to you while you have been here."

 

Elizabeth made no objection; -- the door was then allowed to be

shut, and the carriage drove off.

 

"Good gracious!" cried Maria, after a few minutes silence,

"it seems but a day or two since we first came! -- and yet how

many things have happened!"

 

"A great many indeed," said her companion with a sigh.

 

"We have dined nine times at Rosings, besides drinking tea

there twice! -- How much I shall have to tell!"

 

Elizabeth privately added, "And how much I shall have to

conceal."

 

Their journey was performed without much conversation, or any

alarm; and within four hours of their leaving Hunsford, they

reached Mr. Gardiner's house, where they were to remain a few

days.

 

Jane looked well, and Elizabeth had little opportunity of

studying her spirits, amidst the various engagements which the

kindness of her aunt had reserved for them. But Jane was to go

home with her, and at Longbourn there would be leisure enough

for observation.

 

It was not without an effort, meanwhile, that she could wait

even for Longbourn, before she told her sister of Mr. Darcy's

proposals. To know that she had the power of revealing what

would so exceedingly astonish Jane, and must, at the same time,

so highly gratify whatever of her own vanity she had not yet

been able to reason away, was such a temptation to openness as

nothing could have conquered but the state of indecision in

which she remained as to the extent of what she should

communicate; and her fear, if she once entered on the subject,

of being hurried into repeating something of Bingley which

might only grieve her sister farther.

 

__

 

<CHAPTER XVI (39)

 

IT was the second week in May in which the three young

ladies set out together from Gracechurch-street for the town of

---- in Hertfordshire; and, as they drew near the appointed inn

where Mr. Bennet's carriage was to meet them, they quickly

perceived, in token of the coachman's punctuality, both Kitty

and Lydia looking out of a dining room upstairs. These two

girls had been above an hour in the place, happily employed in

visiting an opposite milliner, watching the sentinel on guard,

and dressing a sallad and cucumber.

 

After welcoming their sisters, they triumphantly displayed a

table set out with such cold meat as an inn larder usually

affords, exclaiming, "Is not this nice? is not this an

agreeable surprise?"

 

"And we mean to treat you all," added Lydia; "but you must lend

us the money, for we have just spent ours at the shop out

there." Then shewing her purchases: "Look here, I have bought

this bonnet. I do not think it is very pretty; but I thought I

might as well buy it as not. I shall pull it to pieces as soon

as I get home, and see if I can make it up any better."

 

And when her sisters abused it as ugly, she added, with perfect

unconcern, "Oh! but there were two or three much uglier in the

shop; and when I have bought some prettier coloured satin to

trim it with fresh, I think it will be very tolerable.

Besides, it will not much signify what one wears this summer

after the ----shire have left Meryton, and they are going in a

fortnight."

 

"Are they indeed?" cried Elizabeth, with the greatest

satisfaction.

 

"They are going to be encamped near Brighton; and I do so want

papa to take us all there for the summer! It would be such a

delicious scheme, and I dare say would hardly cost any thing at

all. Mamma would like to go too, of all things! Only think

what a miserable summer else we shall have!"

 

"Yes," thought Elizabeth, "_that_ would be a delightful scheme,

indeed, and completely do for us at once. Good Heaven!

Brighton, and a whole campful of soldiers, to us, who have been

overset already by one poor regiment of militia, and the

monthly balls of Meryton."

 

"Now I have got some news for you," said Lydia, as they sat

down to table. "What do you think? It is excellent news,

capital news, and about a certain person that we all like."

 

Jane and Elizabeth looked at each other, and the waiter was

told that he need not stay. Lydia laughed, and said, "Aye,

that is just like your formality and discretion. You thought

the waiter must not hear, as if he cared! I dare say he often

hears worse things said than I am going to say. But he is an

ugly fellow! I am glad he is gone. I never saw such a long

chin in my life. Well, but now for my news: it is about dear

Wickham; too good for the waiter, is not it? There is no

danger of Wickham's marrying Mary King. There's for you! She

is gone down to her uncle at Liverpool; gone to stay. Wickham

is safe."

 

"And Mary King is safe!" added Elizabeth; "safe from a

connection imprudent as to fortune."

 

"She is a great fool for going away, if she liked him."

 

"But I hope there is no strong attachment on either side,"

said Jane.

 

"I am sure there is not on _his_. I will answer for it he

never cared three straws about her. Who _could_ about such a

nasty little freckled thing?"

 

Elizabeth was shocked to think that, however incapable of such

coarseness of _expression_ herself, the coarseness of the

_sentiment_ was little other than her own breast had formerly

harboured and fancied liberal!

 

As soon as all had ate, and the elder ones paid, the carriage

was ordered; and, after some contrivance, the whole party, with

all their boxes, workbags, and parcels, and the unwelcome

addition of Kitty's and Lydia's purchases, were seated in it.

 

"How nicely we are crammed in!" cried Lydia. "I am glad I

bought my bonnet, if it is only for the fun of having another

bandbox! Well, now let us be quite comfortable and snug, and

talk and laugh all the way home. And in the first place, let

us hear what has happened to you all, since you went away.

Have you seen any pleasant men? Have you had any flirting?

I was in great hopes that one of you would have got a husband

before you came back. Jane will be quite an old maid soon,

I declare. She is almost three and twenty! Lord, how ashamed

I should be of not being married before three and twenty! My

aunt Philips wants you so to get husbands, you can't think.

She says Lizzy had better have taken Mr. Collins; but _I_ do

not think there would have been any fun in it. Lord! how I

should like to be married before any of you; and then I would

chaperon you about to all the balls. Dear me! we had such a

good piece of fun the other day at Colonel Foster's. Kitty and

me were to spend the day there, and Mrs. Forster promised to

have a little dance in the evening (by the bye, Mrs. Forster

and me are _such_ friends!); and so she asked the two

Harringtons to come, but Harriet was ill, and so Pen was forced

to come by herself; and then, what do you think we did? We

dressed up Chamberlayne in woman's clothes, on purpose to pass