JANE AUSTEN 21 страница

desiring my absence, nor have I any thing to plead in excuse of

my stay, but real, though unavailing, concern. Would to heaven

that any thing could be either said or done on my part, that

might offer consolation to such distress! -- But I will not

torment you with vain wishes, which may seem purposely to ask

for your thanks. This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent

my sister's having the pleasure of seeing you at Pemberley

to-day."

 

"Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologize for us to Miss Darcy.

Say that urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal

the unhappy truth as long as it is possible. -- I know it

cannot be long."

 

He readily assured her of his secrecy -- again expressed his

sorrow for her distress, wished it a happier conclusion than

there was at present reason to hope, and, leaving his

compliments for her relations, with only one serious, parting,

look, went away.

 

As he quitted the room, Elizabeth felt how improbable it was

that they should ever see each other again on such terms of

cordiality as had marked their several meetings in Derbyshire;

and as she threw a retrospective glance over the whole of their

acquaintance, so full of contradictions and varieties, sighed

at the perverseness of those feelings which would now have

promoted its continuance, and would formerly have rejoiced in

its termination.

 

If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection,

Elizabeth's change of sentiment will be neither improbable nor

faulty. But if otherwise, if the regard springing from such

sources is unreasonable or unnatural, in comparison of what is

so often described as arising on a first interview with its

object, and even before two words have been exchanged, nothing

can be said in her defence, except that she had given somewhat

of a trial to the latter method in her partiality for Wickham,

and that its ill-success might perhaps authorise her to seek

the other less interesting mode of attachment. Be that as it

may, she saw him go with regret; and in this early example of

what Lydia's infamy must produce, found additional anguish as

she reflected on that wretched business. Never, since reading

Jane's second letter, had she entertained a hope of Wickham's

meaning to marry her. No one but Jane, she thought, could

flatter herself with such an expectation. Surprise was the

least of her feelings on this developement. While the contents

of the first letter remained on her mind, she was all surprise

-- all astonishment that Wickham should marry a girl whom it

was impossible he could marry for money; and how Lydia could

ever have attached him had appeared incomprehensible. But now

it was all too natural. For such an attachment as this, she

might have sufficient charms; and though she did not suppose

Lydia to be deliberately engaging in an elopement, without the

intention of marriage, she had no difficulty in believing that

neither her virtue nor her understanding would preserve her

from falling an easy prey.

 

She had never perceived, while the regiment was in

Hertfordshire, that Lydia had any partiality for him, but

she was convinced that Lydia had wanted only encouragement

to attach herself to any body. Sometimes one officer,

sometimes another had been her favourite, as their

attentions raised them in her opinion. Her affections had

been continually fluctuating, but never without an object.

The mischief of neglect and mistaken indulgence towards

such a girl. -- Oh! how acutely did she now feel it.

 

She was wild to be at home -- to hear, to see, to be upon the

spot, to share with Jane in the cares that must now fall wholly

upon her, in a family so deranged; a father absent, a mother

incapable of exertion and requiring constant attendance; and

though almost persuaded that nothing could be done for Lydia,

her uncle's interference seemed of the utmost importance, and

till he entered the room, the misery of her impatience was

severe. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had hurried back in alarm,

supposing, by the servant's account, that their niece was taken

suddenly ill; -- but satisfying them instantly on that head,

she eagerly communicated the cause of their summons, reading

the two letters aloud, and dwelling on the postscript of the

last with trembling energy. -- Though Lydia had never been a

favourite with them, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner could not but be

deeply affected. Not Lydia only, but all were concerned in it;

and after the first exclamations of surprise and horror,

Mr. Gardiner readily promised every assistance in his power.

-- Elizabeth, though expecting no less, thanked him with tears

of gratitude; and all three being actuated by one spirit, every

thing relating to their journey was speedily settled. They

were to be off as soon as possible. "But what is to be done

about Pemberley?" cried Mrs. Gardiner. "John told us Mr.

Darcy was here when you sent for us; -- was it so?"

 

"Yes; and I told him we should not be able to keep our

engagement. _That_ is all settled."

 

"That is all settled!" repeated the other, as she ran into her

room to prepare. "And are they upon such terms as for her to

disclose the real truth! Oh, that I knew how it was!"

 

But wishes were vain; or at best could serve only to amuse

her in the hurry and confusion of the following hour. Had

Elizabeth been at leisure to be idle, she would have remained

certain that all employment was impossible to one so wretched

as herself; but she had her share of business as well as her

aunt, and amongst the rest there were notes to be written to

all their friends in Lambton, with false excuses for their

sudden departure. An hour, however, saw the whole completed;

and Mr. Gardiner meanwhile having settled his account at the

inn, nothing remained to be done but to go; and Elizabeth,

after all the misery of the morning, found herself, in a

shorter space of time than she could have supposed, seated in

the carriage, and on the road to Longbourn.

 

__

 

<CHAPTER V (47)>

 

"I HAVE been thinking it over again, Elizabeth," said her uncle

as they drove from the town; "and really, upon serious

consideration, I am much more inclined than I was to judge as

your eldest sister does of the matter. It appears to me so

very unlikely that any young man should form such a design

against a girl who is by no means unprotected or friendless,

and who was actually staying in his colonel's family, that I am

strongly inclined to hope the best. Could he expect that her

friends would not step forward? Could he expect to be noticed

again by the regiment, after such an affront to Colonel

Forster? His temptation is not adequate to the risk."

 

"Do you really think so?" cried Elizabeth, brightening up for

a moment.

 

"Upon my word," said Mrs. Gardiner, "I begin to be of your

uncle's opinion. It is really too great a violation of

decency, honour, and interest, for him to be guilty of it.

I cannot think so very ill of Wickham. Can you, yourself,

Lizzy, so wholly give him up as to believe him capable of it?"

 

"Not perhaps of neglecting his own interest. But of every

other neglect I can believe him capable. If, indeed, it should

be so! But I dare not hope it. Why should they not go on to

Scotland, if that had been the case?"

 

"In the first place," replied Mr. Gardiner, "there is no

absolute proof that they are not gone to Scotland."

 

"Oh! but their removing from the chaise into an hackney coach

is such a presumption! And, besides, no traces of them were to

be found on the Barnet road."

 

"Well, then -- supposing them to be in London. They may be

there, though, for the purpose of concealment, for no more

exceptionable purpose. It is not likely that money should be

very abundant on either side; and it might strike them that

they could be more economically, though less expeditiously,

married in London, than in Scotland."

 

"But why all this secrecy? Why any fear of detection?

Why must their marriage be private? Oh! no, no, this is not

likely. His most particular friend, you see by Jane's account,

was persuaded of his never intending to marry her. Wickham

will never marry a woman without some money. He cannot afford

it. And what claims has Lydia, what attractions has she beyond

youth, health, and good humour, that could make him, for her

sake, forgo every chance of benefiting himself by marrying

well? As to what restraint the apprehension of disgrace in the

corps might throw on a dishonourable elopement with her, I am

not able to judge; for I know nothing of the effects that such

a step might produce. But as to your other objection, I am

afraid it will hardly hold good. Lydia has no brothers to step

forward; and he might imagine, from my father's behaviour, from

his indolence and the little attention he has ever seemed to

give to what was going forward in his family, that _he_ would

do as little, and think as little about it, as any father could

do in such a matter."

 

"But can you think that Lydia is so lost to every thing but

love of him, as to consent to live with him on any other terms

than marriage?"

 

"It does seem, and it is most shocking indeed," replied

Elizabeth, with tears in her eyes, "that a sister's sense of

decency and virtue in such a point should admit of doubt.

But, really, I know not what to say. Perhaps I am not doing

her justice. But she is very young; she has never been taught

to think on serious subjects; and for the last half year, nay,

for a twelvemonth, she has been given up to nothing but

amusement and vanity. She has been allowed to dispose of her

time in the most idle and frivolous manner, and to adopt any

opinions that came in her way. Since the ----shire were first

quartered in Meryton, nothing but love, flirtation, and

officers have been in her head. She has been doing every thing

in her power, by thinking and talking on the subject, to give

greater -- what shall I call it? -- susceptibility to her

feelings, which are naturally lively enough. And we all know

that Wickham has every charm of person and address that can

captivate a woman."

 

"But you see that Jane," said her aunt, "does not think so ill

of Wickham as to believe him capable of the attempt."

 

"Of whom does Jane ever think ill? And who is there, whatever

might be their former conduct, that she would believe capable

of such an attempt, till it were proved against them? But Jane

knows, as well as I do, what Wickham really is. We both know

that he has been profligate in every sense of the word. That

he has neither integrity nor honour. That he is as false and

deceitful, as he is insinuating."

 

"And do you really know all this?" cried Mrs. Gardiner, whose

curiosity as to the mode of her intelligence was all alive.

 

"I do, indeed," replied Elizabeth, colouring. "I told you

the other day, of his infamous behaviour to Mr. Darcy; and

you, yourself, when last at Longbourn, heard in what manner

he spoke of the man who had behaved with such forbearance

and liberality towards him. And there are other circumstances

which I am not at liberty -- which it is not worth while to

relate; but his lies about the whole Pemberley family are

endless. From what he said of Miss Darcy, I was thoroughly

prepared to see a proud, reserved, disagreeable girl. Yet he

knew to the contrary himself. He must know that she was

amiable and unpretending as we have found her."

 

"But does Lydia know nothing of this? Can she be ignorant of

what you and Jane seem so well to understand?"

 

"Oh, yes! -- that, that is the worst of all. Till I was in

Kent, and saw so much both of Mr. Darcy and his relation,

Colonel Fitzwilliam, I was ignorant of the truth myself. And

when I returned home, the ----shire was to leave Meryton in a

week or fortnight's time. As that was the case, neither Jane,

to whom I related the whole, nor I, thought it necessary to

make our knowledge public; for of what use could it apparently

be to any one that the good opinion which all the neighbourhood

had of him should then be overthrown? And even when it was

settled that Lydia should go with Mrs. Forster, the necessity

of opening her eyes to his character never occurred to me.

That _she_ could be in any danger from the deception never

entered my head. That such a consequence as _this_ should

ensue, you may easily believe was far enough from my thoughts."

 

"When they all removed to Brighton, therefore, you had no

reason, I suppose, to believe them fond of each other."

 

"Not the slightest. I can remember no symptom of affection on

either side; and had any thing of the kind been perceptible,

you must be aware that ours is not a family on which it could

be thrown away. When first he entered the corps, she was ready

enough to admire him; but so we all were. Every girl in or

near Meryton was out of her senses about him for the first two

months; but he never distinguished _her_ by any particular

attention, and consequently, after a moderate period of

extravagant and wild admiration, her fancy for him gave way,

and others of the regiment who treated her with more

distinction again became her favourites."

____

 

It may be easily believed that, however little of novelty could

be added to their fears, hopes, and conjectures, on this

interesting subject by its repeated discussion, no other could

detain them from it long, during the whole of the journey.

From Elizabeth's thoughts it was never absent. Fixed there by

the keenest of all anguish, self-reproach, she could find no

interval of ease or forgetfulness.

 

They travelled as expeditiously as possible; and, sleeping one

night on the road, reached Longbourn by dinner-time the next

day. It was a comfort to Elizabeth to consider that Jane could

not have been wearied by long expectations.

 

The little Gardiners, attracted by the sight of a chaise, were

standing on the steps of the house as they entered the paddock;

and when the carriage drove up to the door, the joyful surprise

that lighted up their faces, and displayed itself over their

whole bodies in a variety of capers and frisks, was the first

pleasing earnest of their welcome.

 

Elizabeth jumped out; and, after giving each of them an hasty

kiss, hurried into the vestibule, where Jane, who came running

down stairs from her mother's apartment, immediately met her.

 

Elizabeth, as she affectionately embraced her, whilst tears

filled the eyes of both, lost not a moment in asking whether

any thing had been heard of the fugitives.

 

"Not yet," replied Jane. "But now that my dear uncle is come,

I hope every thing will be well."

 

"Is my father in town?"

 

"Yes, he went on Tuesday, as I wrote you word."

 

"And have you heard from him often?"

 

"We have heard only once. He wrote me a few lines on

Wednesday, to say that he had arrived in safety, and to give

me his directions, which I particularly begged him to do.

He merely added that he should not write again till he had

something of importance to mention."

 

"And my mother -- How is she? How are you all?"

 

"My mother is tolerably well, I trust; though her spirits are

greatly shaken. She is up stairs, and will have great

satisfaction in seeing you all. She does not yet leave her

dressing-room. Mary and Kitty, thank Heaven! are quite well."

 

"But you -- How are you?" cried Elizabeth. "You look pale.

How much you must have gone through!"

 

Her sister, however, assured her of her being perfectly well;

and their conversation, which had been passing while Mr. and

Mrs. Gardiner were engaged with their children, was now put an

end to by the approach of the whole party. Jane ran to her

uncle and aunt, and welcomed and thanked them both, with

alternate smiles and tears.

 

When they were all in the drawing room, the questions which

Elizabeth had already asked were of course repeated by the

others, and they soon found that Jane had no intelligence to

give. The sanguine hope of good, however, which the

benevolence of her heart suggested, had not yet deserted her;

she still expected that it would all end well, and that every

morning would bring some letter, either from Lydia or her

father, to explain their proceedings, and perhaps announce the

marriage.

 

Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few

minutes conversation together, received them exactly as might

be expected; with tears and lamentations of regret, invectives

against the villainous conduct of Wickham, and complaints of

her own sufferings and ill usage; blaming every body but the

person to whose ill-judging indulgence the errors of her

daughter must be principally owing.

 

"If I had been able," said she, "to carry my point of going to

Brighton, with all my family, _this_ would not have happened;

but poor dear Lydia had nobody to take care of her. Why did

the Forsters ever let her go out of their sight? I am sure

there was some great neglect or other on their side, for she is

not the kind of girl to do such a thing, if she had been well

looked after. I always thought they were very unfit to have

the charge of her; but I was over-ruled, as I always am. Poor

dear child! And now here's Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he

will fight Wickham wherever he meets him, and then he will be

killed, and what is to become of us all? The Collinses will

turn us out, before he is cold in his grave; and if you are not

kind to us, brother, I do not know what we shall do."

 

They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas; and Mr.

Gardiner, after general assurances of his affection for her and

all her family, told her that he meant to be in London the very

next day, and would assist Mr. Bennet in every endeavour for

recovering Lydia.

 

"Do not give way to useless alarm," added he; "though it is

right to be prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to

look on it as certain. It is not quite a week since they left

Brighton. In a few days more, we may gain some news of them,

and till we know that they are not married, and have no design

of marrying, do not let us give the matter over as lost. As

soon as I get to town, I shall go to my brother and make him

come home with me to Gracechurch Street, and then we may

consult together as to what is to be done."

 

"Oh! my dear brother," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that is exactly

what I could most wish for. And now do, when you get to town,

find them out, wherever they may be; and if they are not

married already, make them marry. And as for wedding clothes,

do not let them wait for that, but tell Lydia she shall have as

much money as she chuses to buy them, after they are married.

And, above all things, keep Mr. Bennet from fighting. Tell him

what a dreadful state I am in, -- that I am frightened out of

my wits; and have such tremblings, such flutterings all over me

such spasms in my side, and pains in my head, and such beatings

at heart, that I can get no rest by night nor by day. And tell

my dear Lydia, not to give any directions about her clothes

till she has seen me, for she does not know which are the best

warehouses. Oh, brother, how kind you are! I know you will

contrive it all."

 

But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again of his earnest

endeavours in the cause, could not avoid recommending

moderation to her, as well in her hopes as her fears; and,

after talking with her in this manner till dinner was on table,

they left her to vent all her feelings on the housekeeper, who

attended in the absence of her daughters.

 

Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was no

real occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did

not attempt to oppose it, for they knew that she had not

prudence enough to hold her tongue before the servants while

they waited at table, and judged it better that _one_ only of

the household, and the one whom they could most trust, should

comprehend all her fears and solicitude on the subject.

 

In the dining-room they were soon joined by Mary and Kitty, who

had been too busily engaged in their separate apartments, to

make their appearance before. One came from her books, and the

other from her toilette. The faces of both, however, were

tolerably calm; and no change was visible in either, except

that the loss of her favourite sister, or the anger which she

had herself incurred in the business, had given something more

of fretfulness than usual to the accents of Kitty. As for

Mary, she was mistress enough of herself to whisper to

Elizabeth, with a countenance of grave reflection, soon after

they were seated at table,

 

"This is a most unfortunate affair; and will probably be much

talked of. But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into

the wounded bosoms of each other the balm of sisterly

consolation."

 

Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, she

added, "Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw

from it this useful lesson: that loss of virtue in a female is

irretrievable -- that one false step involves her in endless

ruin -- that her reputation is no less brittle than it is

beautiful, -- and that she cannot be too much guarded in her

behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex."

 

Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much

oppressed to make any reply. Mary, however, continued to

console herself with such kind of moral extractions from the

evil before them.

 

In the afternoon, the two elder Miss Bennets were able to be

for half an hour by themselves; and Elizabeth instantly availed

herself of the opportunity of making many enquiries, which Jane

was equally eager to satisfy. After joining in general

lamentations over the dreadful sequel of this event, which

Elizabeth considered as all but certain, and Miss Bennet could

not assert to be wholly impossible, the former continued the

subject by saying, "But tell me all and every thing about it

which I have not already heard. Give me farther particulars.

What did Colonel Forster say? Had they no apprehension of any

thing before the elopement took place? They must have seen

them together for ever."

 

"Colonel Forster did own that he had often suspected some

partiality, especially on Lydia's side, but nothing to give him

any alarm. I am so grieved for him. His behaviour was

attentive and kind to the utmost. He was coming to us, in

order to assure us of his concern, before he had any idea of

their not being gone to Scotland; when that apprehension first

got abroad, it hastened his journey."

 

"And was Denny convinced that Wickham would not marry? Did he

know of their intending to go off? Had Colonel Forster seen

Denny himself?"

 

"Yes; but when questioned by _him_, Denny denied knowing any

thing of their plan, and would not give his real opinion about

it. He did not repeat his persuasion of their not marrying --

and from _that_, I am inclined to hope, he might have been

misunderstood before."

 

"And till Colonel Forster came himself, not one of you

entertained a doubt, I suppose, of their being really married?"

 

"How was it possible that such an idea should enter our brains!

I felt a little uneasy -- a little fearful of my sister's

happiness with him in marriage, because I knew that his conduct

had not been always quite right. My father and mother knew

nothing of that, they only felt how imprudent a match it must

be. Kitty then owned, with a very natural triumph on knowing

more than the rest of us, that in Lydia's last letter she had

prepared her for such a step. She had known, it seems, of

their being in love with each other many weeks."

 

"But not before they went to Brighton?"

 

"No, I believe not."

 

"And did Colonel Forster appear to think ill of Wickham

himself? Does he know his real character?"

 

"I must confess that he did not speak so well of Wickham as he

formerly did. He believed him to be imprudent and extravagant.

And since this sad affair has taken place, it is said that he

left Meryton greatly in debt; but I hope this may be false."

 

"Oh, Jane, had we been less secret, had we told what we knew of

him, this could not have happened!"

 

"Perhaps it would have been better," replied her sister.

"But to expose the former faults of any person, without knowing

what their present feelings were, seemed unjustifiable. We

acted with the best intentions."

 

"Could Colonel Forster repeat the particulars of Lydia's note

to his wife?"

 

"He brought it with him for us to see."

 

Jane then took it from her pocket-book, and gave it to

Elizabeth. These were the contents:

 

"MY DEAR HARRIET,

 

You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help

laughing myself at your surprise to-morrow morning, as soon as

I am missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot

guess with who, I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but