JANE AUSTEN 19 страница

Their eyes instantly met, and the cheeks of each were

overspread with the deepest blush. He absolutely started, and

for a moment seemed immoveable from surprise; but shortly

recovering himself, advanced towards the party, and spoke to

Elizabeth, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least of

perfect civility.

 

She had instinctively turned away; but, stopping on his

approach, received his compliments with an embarrassment

impossible to be overcome. Had his first appearance, or his

resemblance to the picture they had just been examining, been

insufficient to assure the other two that they now saw Mr.

Darcy, the gardener's expression of surprise on beholding his

master must immediately have told it. They stood a little

aloof while he was talking to their niece, who, astonished and

confused, scarcely dared lift her eyes to his face, and knew

not what answer she returned to his civil enquiries after her

family. Amazed at the alteration in his manner since they last

parted, every sentence that he uttered was increasing her

embarrassment; and every idea of the impropriety of her being

found there recurring to her mind, the few minutes in which

they continued together were some of the most uncomfortable of

her life. Nor did he seem much more at ease; when he spoke,

his accent had none of its usual sedateness; and he repeated

his enquiries as to the time of her having left Longbourn, and

of her stay in Derbyshire, so often, and in so hurried a way,

as plainly spoke the distraction of his thoughts.

 

At length, every idea seemed to fail him; and, after standing a

few moments without saying a word, he suddenly recollected

himself, and took leave.

 

The others then joined her, and expressed their admiration of

his figure; but Elizabeth heard not a word, and, wholly

engrossed by her own feelings, followed them in silence. She

was overpowered by shame and vexation. Her coming there was

the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in the world!

How strange must it appear to him! In what a disgraceful light

might it not strike so vain a man! It might seem as if she had

purposely thrown herself in his way again! Oh! why did she

come? or, why did he thus come a day before he was expected?

Had they been only ten minutes sooner, they should have been

beyond the reach of his discrimination, for it was plain that

he was that moment arrived, that moment alighted from his horse

or his carriage. She blushed again and again over the

perverseness of the meeting. And his behaviour, so strikingly

altered, -- what could it mean? That he should even speak to

her was amazing! -- but to speak with such civility, to enquire

after her family! Never in her life had she seen his manners

so little dignified, never had he spoken with such gentleness

as on this unexpected meeting. What a contrast did it offer to

his last address in Rosings Park, when he put his letter into

her hand! She knew not what to think, nor how to account for

it.

 

They had now entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water,

and every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or

a finer reach of the woods to which they were approaching; but

it was some time before Elizabeth was sensible of any of it;

and, though she answered mechanically to the repeated appeals

of her uncle and aunt, and seemed to direct her eyes to such

objects as they pointed out, she distinguished no part of the

scene. Her thoughts were all fixed on that one spot of

Pemberley House, whichever it might be, where Mr. Darcy then

was. She longed to know what at that moment was passing in his

mind; in what manner he thought of her, and whether, in

defiance of every thing, she was still dear to him. Perhaps he

had been civil only because he felt himself at ease; yet there

had been _that_ in his voice which was not like ease. Whether

he had felt more of pain or of pleasure in seeing her, she

could not tell, but he certainly had not seen her with

composure.

 

At length, however, the remarks of her companions on her

absence of mind roused her, and she felt the necessity of

appearing more like herself.

 

They entered the woods, and bidding adieu to the river for a

while, ascended some of the higher grounds; whence, in spots

where the opening of the trees gave the eye power to wander,

were many charming views of the valley, the opposite hills,

with the long range of woods overspreading many, and

occasionally part of the stream. Mr. Gardiner expressed a wish

of going round the whole Park, but feared it might be beyond a

walk. With a triumphant smile, they were told that it was ten

miles round. It settled the matter; and they pursued the

accustomed circuit; which brought them again, after some time,

in a descent among hanging woods, to the edge of the water, in

one of its narrowest parts. They crossed it by a simple

bridge, in character with the general air of the scene; it was

a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited; and the

valley, here contracted into a glen, allowed room only for the

stream, and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-wood which

bordered it. Elizabeth longed to explore its windings; but

when they had crossed the bridge, and perceived their distance

from the house, Mrs. Gardiner, who was not a great walker,

could go no farther, and thought only of returning to the

carriage as quickly as possible. Her niece was, therefore,

obliged to submit, and they took their way towards the house on

the opposite side of the river, in the nearest direction; but

their progress was slow, for Mr. Gardiner, though seldom able

to indulge the taste, was very fond of fishing, and was so much

engaged in watching the occasional appearance of some trout in

the water, and talking to the man about them, that he advanced

but little. Whilst wandering on in this slow manner, they were

again surprised, and Elizabeth's astonishment was quite equal

to what it had been at first, by the sight of Mr. Darcy

approaching them, and at no great distance. The walk being

here less sheltered than on the other side, allowed them to see

him before they met. Elizabeth, however astonished, was at

least more prepared for an interview than before, and resolved

to appear and to speak with calmness, if he really intended to

meet them. For a few moments, indeed, she felt that he would

probably strike into some other path. This idea lasted while a

turning in the walk concealed him from their view; the turning

past, he was immediately before them. With a glance she saw

that he had lost none of his recent civility; and, to imitate

his politeness, she began, as they met, to admire the beauty of

the place; but she had not got beyond the words "delightful,"

and "charming," when some unlucky recollections obtruded, and

she fancied that praise of Pemberley from her might be

mischievously construed. Her colour changed, and she said no

more.

 

Mrs. Gardiner was standing a little behind; and on her pausing,

he asked her if she would do him the honour of introducing him

to her friends. This was a stroke of civility for which she

was quite unprepared; and she could hardly suppress a smile at

his being now seeking the acquaintance of some of those very

people against whom his pride had revolted, in his offer to

herself. "What will be his surprise," thought she, "when he

knows who they are! He takes them now for people of fashion."

 

The introduction, however, was immediately made; and as she

named their relationship to herself, she stole a sly look at

him, to see how he bore it; and was not without the expectation

of his decamping as fast as he could from such disgraceful

companions. That he was surprised by the connexion was

evident; he sustained it however with fortitude, and so far

from going away, turned back with them, and entered into

conversation with Mr. Gardiner. Elizabeth could not but be

pleased, could not but triumph. It was consoling that he

should know she had some relations for whom there was no need

to blush. She listened most attentively to all that passed

between them, and gloried in every expression, every sentence

of her uncle, which marked his intelligence, his taste, or his

good manners.

 

The conversation soon turned upon fishing, and she heard

Mr. Darcy invite him, with the greatest civility, to fish there

as often as he chose while he continued in the neighbourhood,

offering at the same time to supply him with fishing tackle,

and pointing out those parts of the stream where there was

usually most sport. Mrs. Gardiner, who was walking arm in arm

with Elizabeth, gave her a look expressive of her wonder.

Elizabeth said nothing, but it gratified her exceedingly; the

compliment must be all for herself. Her astonishment, however,

was extreme; and continually was she repeating, "Why is he so

altered? From what can it proceed? It cannot be for _me_, it

cannot be for _my_ sake that his manners are thus softened. My

reproofs at Hunsford could not work such a change as this. It

is impossible that he should still love me."

 

After walking some time in this way, the two ladies in front,

the two gentlemen behind, on resuming their places after

descending to the brink of the river for the better inspection

of some curious water-plant, there chanced to be a little

alteration. It originated in Mrs. Gardiner, who, fatigued by

the exercise of the morning, found Elizabeth's arm inadequate

to her support, and consequently preferred her husband's.

Mr. Darcy took her place by her niece, and they walked on

together. After a short silence, the lady first spoke. She

wished him to know that she had been assured of his absence

before she came to the place, and accordingly began by

observing that his arrival had been very unexpected -- "for

your housekeeper," she added, "informed us that you would

certainly not be here till to-morrow; and indeed, before we

left Bakewell we understood that you were not immediately

expected in the country." He acknowledged the truth of it all;

and said that business with his steward had occasioned his

coming forward a few hours before the rest of the party with

whom he had been travelling. "They will join me early

tomorrow," he continued, "and among them are some who will

claim an acquaintance with you, -- Mr. Bingley and his

sisters."

 

Elizabeth answered only by a slight bow. Her thoughts were

instantly driven back to the time when Mr. Bingley's name had

been last mentioned between them; and if she might judge from

his complexion, _his_ mind was not very differently engaged.

 

"There is also one other person in the party," he continued

after a pause, "who more particularly wishes to be known to

you, -- Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce

my sister to your acquaintance during your stay at Lambton?"

 

The surprise of such an application was great indeed; it was

too great for her to know in what manner she acceded to it.

She immediately felt that whatever desire Miss Darcy might have

of being acquainted with her must be the work of her brother,

and without looking farther, it was satisfactory; it was

gratifying to know that his resentment had not made him think

really ill of her.

 

They now walked on in silence; each of them deep in thought.

Elizabeth was not comfortable; that was impossible; but she was

flattered and pleased. His wish of introducing his sister to

her was a compliment of the highest kind. They soon

outstripped the others, and when they had reached the carriage,

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were half a quarter of a mile behind.

 

He then asked her to walk into the house -- but she declared

herself not tired, and they stood together on the lawn. At

such a time, much might have been said, and silence was very

awkward. She wanted to talk, but there seemed an embargo on

every subject. At last she recollected that she had been

travelling, and they talked of Matlock and Dove-Dale with great

perseverance. Yet time and her aunt moved slowly -- and her

patience and her ideas were nearly worn out before the

te^te-a`-te^te was over. On Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's coming

up, they were all pressed to go into the house and take some

refreshment; but this was declined, and they parted on each

side with the utmost politeness. Mr. Darcy handed the ladies

into the carriage, and when it drove off, Elizabeth saw him

walking slowly towards the house.

 

The observations of her uncle and aunt now began; and each of

them pronounced him to be infinitely superior to any thing they

had expected. "He is perfectly well behaved, polite, and

unassuming," said her uncle.

 

"There is something a little stately in him to be sure,"

replied her aunt, "but it is confined to his air, and is not

unbecoming. I can now say with the housekeeper, that though

some people may call him proud, _I_ have seen nothing of it."

 

"I was never more surprised than by his behaviour to us. It

was more than civil; it was really attentive; and there was no

necessity for such attention. His acquaintance with Elizabeth

was very trifling."

 

"To be sure, Lizzy," said her aunt, "he is not so handsome as

Wickham; or rather he has not Wickham's countenance, for his

features are perfectly good. But how came you to tell us that

he was so disagreeable?"

 

Elizabeth excused herself as well as she could; said that she

had liked him better when they met in Kent than before, and

that she had never seen him so pleasant as this morning.

 

"But perhaps he may be a little whimsical in his civilities,"

replied her uncle. "Your great men often are; and therefore

I shall not take him at his word about fishing, as he might

change his mind another day, and warn me off his grounds."

 

Elizabeth felt that they had entirely mistaken his character,

but said nothing.

 

"From what we have seen of him," continued Mrs. Gardiner,

"I really should not have thought that he could have behaved in

so cruel a way by any body, as he has done by poor Wickham. He

has not an ill-natured look. On the contrary, there is

something pleasing about his mouth when he speaks. And there

is something of dignity in his countenance, that would not give

one an unfavourable idea of his heart. But to be sure, the

good lady who shewed us the house did give him a most flaming

character! I could hardly help laughing aloud sometimes. But

he is a liberal master, I suppose, and _that_ in the eye of a

servant comprehends every virtue."

 

Elizabeth here felt herself called on to say something in

vindication of his behaviour to Wickham; and therefore gave

them to understand, in as guarded a manner as she could, that

by what she had heard from his relations in Kent, his actions

were capable of a very different construction; and that his

character was by no means so faulty, nor Wickham's so amiable,

as they had been considered in Hertfordshire. In confirmation

of this, she related the particulars of all the pecuniary

transactions in which they had been connected, without actually

naming her authority, but stating it to be such as might be

relied on.

 

Mrs. Gardiner was surprised and concerned; but as they were now

approaching the scene of her former pleasures, every idea gave

way to the charm of recollection; and she was too much engaged

in pointing out to her husband all the interesting spots in its

environs to think of any thing else. Fatigued as she had been

by the morning's walk, they had no sooner dined than she set

off again in quest of her former acquaintance, and the evening

was spent in the satisfactions of an intercourse renewed after

many years discontinuance.

 

The occurrences of the day were too full of interest to leave

Elizabeth much attention for any of these new friends; and she

could do nothing but think, and think with wonder, of

Mr. Darcy's civility, and above all, of his wishing her to be

acquainted with his sister.

 

__

 

<CHAPTER II (44)>

 

ELIZABETH had settled it that Mr. Darcy would bring his sister

to visit her the very day after her reaching Pemberley; and was

consequently resolved not to be out of sight of the inn the

whole of that morning. But her conclusion was false; for on

the very morning after their own arrival at Lambton, these

visitors came. They had been walking about the place with some

of their new friends, and were just returned to the inn to

dress themselves for dining with the same family, when the

sound of a carriage drew them to a window, and they saw a

gentleman and lady in a curricle, driving up the street.

Elizabeth, immediately recognising the livery, guessed what it

meant, and imparted no small degree of surprise to her

relations by acquainting them with the honour which she

expected. Her uncle and aunt were all amazement; and the

embarrassment of her manner as she spoke, joined to the

circumstance itself, and many of the circumstances of the

preceding day, opened to them a new idea on the business.

Nothing had ever suggested it before, but they now felt that

there was no other way of accounting for such attentions from

such a quarter than by supposing a partiality for their niece.

While these newly-born notions were passing in their heads, the

perturbation of Elizabeth's feelings was every moment

increasing. She was quite amazed at her own discomposure; but

amongst other causes of disquiet, she dreaded lest the

partiality of the brother should have said too much in her

favour; and more than commonly anxious to please, she naturally

suspected that every power of pleasing would fail her.

 

She retreated from the window, fearful of being seen; and as

she walked up and down the room, endeavouring to compose

herself, saw such looks of enquiring surprise in her uncle and

aunt as made every thing worse.

 

Miss Darcy and her brother appeared, and this formidable

introduction took place. With astonishment did Elizabeth see

that her new acquaintance was at least as much embarrassed as

herself. Since her being at Lambton, she had heard that Miss

Darcy was exceedingly proud; but the observation of a very few

minutes convinced her that she was only exceedingly shy. She

found it difficult to obtain even a word from her beyond a

monosyllable.

 

Miss Darcy was tall, and on a larger scale than Elizabeth; and,

though little more than sixteen, her figure was formed, and her

appearance womanly and graceful. She was less handsome than

her brother, but there was sense and good humour in her face,

and her manners were perfectly unassuming and gentle.

Elizabeth, who had expected to find in her as acute and

unembarrassed an observer as ever Mr. Darcy had been, was much

relieved by discerning such different feelings.

 

They had not been long together before Darcy told her that

Bingley was also coming to wait on her; and she had barely time

to express her satisfaction, and prepare for such a visitor,

when Bingley's quick step was heard on the stairs, and in a

moment he entered the room. All Elizabeth's anger against him

had been long done away; but, had she still felt any, it could

hardly have stood its ground against the unaffected cordiality

with which he expressed himself on seeing her again. He

enquired in a friendly, though general way, after her family,

and looked and spoke with the same good-humoured ease that he

had ever done.

 

To Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner he was scarcely a less interesting

personage than to herself. They had long wished to see him.

The whole party before them, indeed, excited a lively

attention. The suspicions which had just arisen, of Mr. Darcy

and their niece, directed their observation towards each with

an earnest, though guarded, enquiry; and they soon drew from

those enquiries the full conviction that one of them at least

knew what it was to love. Of the lady's sensations they

remained a little in doubt; but that the gentleman was

overflowing with admiration was evident enough.

 

Elizabeth, on her side, had much to do. She wanted to

ascertain the feelings of each of her visitors, she wanted to

compose her own, and to make herself agreeable to all; and in

the latter object, where she feared most to fail, she was most

sure of success, for those to whom she endeavoured to give

pleasure were prepossessed in her favour. Bingley was ready,

Georgiana was eager, and Darcy determined to be pleased.

 

In seeing Bingley, her thoughts naturally flew to her sister;

and oh! how ardently did she long to know whether any of his

were directed in a like manner. Sometimes she could fancy that

he talked less than on former occasions, and once or twice

pleased herself with the notion that as he looked at her, he

was trying to trace a resemblance. But though this might be

imaginary, she could not be deceived as to his behaviour to

Miss Darcy, who had been set up as a rival of Jane. No look

appeared on either side that spoke particular regard. Nothing

occurred between them that could justify the hopes of his

sister. On this point she was soon satisfied; and two or three

little circumstances occurred ere they parted which, in her

anxious interpretation, denoted a recollection of Jane not

untinctured by tenderness, and a wish of saying more that might

lead to the mention of her, had he dared. He observed to her,

at a moment when the others were talking together, and in a

tone which had something of real regret, that it "was a very

long time since he had had the pleasure of seeing her -- " and,

before she could reply, he added, "It is above eight months.

We have not met since the 26th of November, when we were all

dancing together at Netherfield."

 

Elizabeth was pleased to find his memory so exact; and he

afterwards took occasion to ask her, when unattended to by any

of the rest, whether all her sisters were at Longbourn. There

was not much in the question, nor in the preceding remark, but

there was a look and manner which gave them meaning.

 

It was not often that she could turn her eyes on Mr. Darcy

himself; but, whenever she did catch a glimpse, she saw an

expression of general complaisance, and in all that he said she

heard an accent so far removed from hauteur or disdain of his

companions, as convinced her that the improvement of manners

which she had yesterday witnessed, however temporary its

existence might prove, had at least outlived one day. When she

saw him thus seeking the acquaintance and courting the good

opinion of people, with whom any intercourse a few months ago

would have been a disgrace; when she saw him thus civil, not

only to herself, but to the very relations whom he had openly

disdained, and recollected their last lively scene in Hunsford

Parsonage, the difference, the change was so great, and struck

so forcibly on her mind, that she could hardly restrain her

astonishment from being visible. Never, even in the company of

his dear friends at Netherfield, or his dignified relations at

Rosings, had she seen him so desirous to please, so free from

self-consequence or unbending reserve, as now, when no

importance could result from the success of his endeavours, and

when even the acquaintance of those to whom his attentions were

addressed would draw down the ridicule and censure of the

ladies both of Netherfield and Rosings.

 

Their visitors staid with them above half an hour, and when

they arose to depart, Mr. Darcy called on his sister to join

him in expressing their wish of seeing Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner

and Miss Bennet to dinner at Pemberley before they left the

country. Miss Darcy, though with a diffidence which marked

her little in the habit of giving invitations, readily obeyed.

Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece, desirous of knowing how

_she_, whom the invitation most concerned, felt disposed as to

its acceptance, but Elizabeth had turned away her head.

Presuming, however, that this studied avoidance spoke rather

a momentary embarrassment, than any dislike of the proposal,

and seeing in her husband, who was fond of society, a perfect

willingness to accept it, she ventured to engage for her

attendance, and the day after the next was fixed on.

 

Bingley expressed great pleasure in the certainty of seeing

Elizabeth again, having still a great deal to say to her, and

many enquiries to make after all their Hertfordshire friends.

Elizabeth, construing all this into a wish of hearing her speak

of her sister, was pleased; and on this account, as well as

some others, found herself, when their visitors left them,

capable of considering the last half hour with some

satisfaction, though while it was passing the enjoyment of it

had been little. Eager to be alone, and fearful of enquiries

or hints from her uncle and aunt, she staid with them only long

enough to hear their favourable opinion of Bingley, and then

hurried away to dress.

 

But she had no reason to fear Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's

curiosity; it was not their wish to force her communication.

It was evident that she was much better acquainted with

Mr. Darcy than they had before any idea of; it was evident that

he was very much in love with her. They saw much to interest,

but nothing to justify enquiry.

 

Of Mr. Darcy it was now a matter of anxiety to think well; and,

as far as their acquaintance reached, there was no fault to

find. They could not be untouched by his politeness, and, had

they drawn his character from their own feelings and his

servant's report, without any reference to any other account,

the circle in Hertfordshire to which he was known would not

have recognised it for Mr. Darcy. There was now an interest,