JANE AUSTEN 22 страница

one man in the world I love, and he is an angel. I should

never be happy without him, so think it no harm to be off. You

need not send them word at Longbourn of my going, if you do not

like it, for it will make the surprise the greater when I write

to them and sign my name Lydia Wickham. What a good joke it

will be! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make my

excuses to Pratt, for not keeping my engagement and dancing

with him to night. Tell him I hope he will excuse me when he

knows all, and tell him I will dance with him at the next ball

we meet, with great pleasure. I shall send for my clothes when

I get to Longbourn; but I wish you would tell Sally to mend a

great slit in my worked muslin gown before they are packed up.

Good bye. Give my love to Colonel Forster. I hope you will

drink to our good journey.

 

Your affectionate friend,

 

LYDIA BENNET."

 

"Oh! thoughtless, thoughtless Lydia!" cried Elizabeth when she

had finished it. "What a letter is this, to be written at such

a moment. But at least it shews that _she_ was serious in the

object of her journey. Whatever he might afterwards persuade

her to, it was not on her side a _scheme_ of infamy. My poor

father! how he must have felt it!"

 

"I never saw any one so shocked. He could not speak a word for

full ten minutes. My mother was taken ill immediately, and the

whole house in such confusion!"

 

"Oh! Jane!" cried Elizabeth, "was there a servant belonging to

it, who did not know the whole story before the end of the

day?"

 

"I do not know. -- I hope there was. -- But to be guarded at

such a time, is very difficult. My mother was in hysterics,

and though I endeavoured to give her every assistance in my

power, I am afraid I did not do so much as I might have done!

But the horror of what might possibly happen, almost took from

me my faculties."

 

"Your attendance upon her has been too much for you. You do

not look well. Oh! that I had been with you, you have had

every care and anxiety upon yourself alone."

 

"Mary and Kitty have been very kind, and would have shared in

every fatigue, I am sure, but I did not think it right for

either of them. Kitty is slight and delicate, and Mary studies

so much, that her hours of repose should not be broken in on.

My aunt Phillips came to Longbourn on Tuesday, after my father

went away; and was so good as to stay till Thursday with me.

She was of great use and comfort to us all, and Lady Lucas has

been very kind; she walked here on Wednesday morning to condole

with us, and offered her services, or any of her daughters, if

they could be of use to us."

 

"She had better have stayed at home," cried Elizabeth; "perhaps

she _meant_ well, but under such a misfortune as this, one

cannot see too little of one's neighbours. Assistance is

impossible; condolence, insufferable. Let them triumph over us

at a distance, and be satisfied."

 

She then proceeded to enquire into the measures which her

father had intended to pursue, while in town, for the recovery

of his daughter.

 

"He meant, I believe," replied Jane, "to go to Epsom, the place

where they last changed horses, see the postillions, and try if

any thing could be made out from them. His principal object

must be to discover the number of the hackney coach which took

them from Clapham. It had come with a fare from London; and as

he thought the circumstance of a gentleman and lady's removing

from one carriage into another might be remarked, he meant to

make enquiries at Clapham. If he could any how discover at

what house the coachman had before set down his fare, he

determined to make enquiries there, and hoped it might not

be impossible to find out the stand and number of the coach.

I do not know of any other designs that he had formed: but he

was in such a hurry to be gone, and his spirits so greatly

discomposed, that I had difficulty in finding out even so much

as this."

 

__

 

<CHAPTER VI (48)>

 

THE whole party were in hopes of a letter from Mr. Bennet the

next morning, but the post came in without bringing a single

line from him. His family knew him to be, on all common

occasions, a most negligent and dilatory correspondent, but

at such a time they had hoped for exertion. They were forced

to conclude that he had no pleasing intelligence to send,

but even of _that_ they would have been glad to be certain.

Mr. Gardiner had waited only for the letters before he set off.

 

When he was gone, they were certain at least of receiving

constant information of what was going on, and their uncle

promised, at parting, to prevail on Mr. Bennet to return to

Longbourn as soon as he could, to the great consolation of

his sister, who considered it as the only security for her

husband's not being killed in a duel.

 

Mrs. Gardiner and the children were to remain in Hertfordshire

a few days longer, as the former thought her presence might be

serviceable to her nieces. She shared in their attendance on

Mrs. Bennet, and was a great comfort to them in their hours of

freedom. Their other aunt also visited them frequently, and

always, as she said, with the design of cheering and heartening

them up, though as she never came without reporting some fresh

instance of Wickham's extravagance or irregularity, she seldom

went away without leaving them more dispirited than she found

them.

 

All Meryton seemed striving to blacken the man, who, but three

months before, had been almost an angel of light. He was

declared to be in debt to every tradesman in the place, and his

intrigues, all honoured with the title of seduction, had been

extended into every tradesman's family. Every body declared

that he was the wickedest young man in the world; and every

body began to find out that they had always distrusted the

appearance of his goodness. Elizabeth, though she did not

credit above half of what was said, believed enough to make her

former assurance of her sister's ruin still more certain; and

even Jane, who believed still less of it, became almost

hopeless, more especially as the time was now come when, if

they had gone to Scotland, which she had never before entirely

despaired of, they must in all probability have gained some

news of them.

 

Mr. Gardiner left Longbourn on Sunday; on Tuesday, his wife

received a letter from him; it told them that on his arrival,

he had immediately found out his brother, and persuaded him to

come to Gracechurch street; that Mr. Bennet had been to Epsom

and Clapham before his arrival, but without gaining any

satisfactory information; and that he was now determined to

enquire at all the principal hotels in town, as Mr. Bennet

thought it possible they might have gone to one of them, on

their first coming to London, before they procured lodgings.

Mr. Gardiner himself did not expect any success from this

measure, but as his brother was eager in it, he meant to assist

him in pursuing it. He added that Mr. Bennet seemed wholly

disinclined at present, to leave London, and promised to write

again very soon. There was also a postscript to this effect:

 

"I have written to Colonel Forster to desire him to find out,

if possible, from some of the young man's intimates in the

regiment, whether Wickham has any relations or connections who

would be likely to know in what part of the town he has now

concealed himself. If there were any one that one could apply

to with a probability of gaining such a clue as that, it might

be of essential consequence. At present we have nothing to

guide us. Colonel Forster will, I dare say, do every thing in

his power to satisfy us on this head. But, on second thoughts,

perhaps Lizzy could tell us what relations he has now living

better than any other person."

 

Elizabeth was at no loss to understand from whence this

deference for her authority proceeded; but it was not in her

power to give any information of so satisfactory a nature as

the compliment deserved.

 

She had never heard of his having had any relations, except a

father and mother, both of whom had been dead many years. It

was possible, however, that some of his companions in the

----shire, might be able to give more information; and, though

she was not very sanguine in expecting it, the application was

a something to look forward to.

 

Every day at Longbourn was now a day of anxiety; but the

most anxious part of each was when the post was expected.

The arrival of letters was the first grand object of every

morning's impatience. Through letters, whatever of good or

bad was to be told would be communicated, and every succeeding

day was expected to bring some news of importance.

 

But before they heard again from Mr. Gardiner, a letter arrived

for their father from a different quarter -- from Mr. Collins;

which, as Jane had received directions to open all that came

for him in his absence, she accordingly read; and Elizabeth,

who knew what curiosities his letters always were, looked over

her, and read it likewise. It was as follows:

 

"MY DEAR SIR,

 

I feel myself called upon by our relationship, and my situation

in life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are

now suffering under, of which we were yesterday informed by a

letter from Hertfordshire. Be assured, my dear Sir, that

Mrs. Collins and myself sincerely sympathise with you, and all

your respectable family, in your present distress, which must

be of the bitterest kind, because proceeding from a cause which

no time can remove. No arguments shall be wanting on my part

that can alleviate so severe a misfortune; or that may comfort

you, under a circumstance that must be of all others most

afflicting to a parent's mind. The death of your daughter

would have been a blessing in comparison of this. And it is

the more to be lamented, because there is reason to suppose, as

my dear Charlotte informs me, that this licentiousness of

behaviour in your daughter has proceeded from a faulty degree

of indulgence, though at the same time, for the consolation of

yourself and Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined to think that her own

disposition must be naturally bad, or she could not be guilty

of such an enormity at so early an age. Howsoever that may be,

you are grievously to be pitied, in which opinion I am not only

joined by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by Lady Catherine and her

daughter, to whom I have related the affair. They agree with

me in apprehending that this false step in one daughter will be

injurious to the fortunes of all the others; for who, as Lady

Catherine herself condescendingly says, will connect themselves

with such a family. And this consideration leads me moreover

to reflect with augmented satisfaction on a certain event of

last November, for had it been otherwise, I must have been

involved in all your sorrow and disgrace. Let me advise you

then, my dear Sir, to console yourself as much as possible, to

throw off your unworthy child from your affection for ever, and

leave her to reap the fruits of her own heinous offence.

 

I am, dear Sir, &c. &c."

 

Mr. Gardiner did not write again till he had received an answer

from Colonel Forster; and then he had nothing of a pleasant

nature to send. It was not known that Wickham had a single

relation with whom he kept up any connection, and it was

certain that he had no near one living. His former

acquaintance had been numerous; but since he had been in the

militia, it did not appear that he was on terms of particular

friendship with any of them. There was no one therefore who

could be pointed out as likely to give any news of him. And in

the wretched state of his own finances there was a very

powerful motive for secrecy, in addition to his fear of

discovery by Lydia's relations, for it had just transpired that

he had left gaming debts behind him, to a very considerable

amount. Colonel Forster believed that more than a thousand

pounds would be necessary to clear his expences at Brighton.

He owed a good deal in the town, but his debts of honour were

still more formidable. Mr. Gardiner did not attempt to conceal

these particulars from the Longbourn family; Jane heard them

with horror. "A gamester!" she cried. "This is wholly

unexpected. I had not an idea of it."

 

Mr. Gardiner added, in his letter, that they might expect to

see their father at home on the following day, which was

Saturday. Rendered spiritless by the ill-success of all their

endeavours, he had yielded to his brother-in-law's intreaty

that he would return to his family, and leave it to him to do

whatever occasion might suggest to be advisable for continuing

their pursuit. When Mrs. Bennet was told of this, she did not

express so much satisfaction as her children expected,

considering what her anxiety for his life had been before.

 

"What, is he coming home, and without poor Lydia!" she cried.

"Sure he will not leave London before he has found them. Who

is to fight Wickham, and make him marry her, if he comes away?"

 

As Mrs. Gardiner began to wish to be at home, it was settled

that she and her children should go to London at the same time

that Mr. Bennet came from it. The coach, therefore, took them

the first stage of their journey, and brought its master back

to Longbourn.

 

Mrs. Gardiner went away in all the perplexity about Elizabeth

and her Derbyshire friend that had attended her from that part

of the world. His name had never been voluntarily mentioned

before them by her niece; and the kind of half-expectation

which Mrs. Gardiner had formed, of their being followed by a

letter from him, had ended in nothing. Elizabeth had received

none since her return, that could come from Pemberley.

 

The present unhappy state of the family, rendered any other

excuse for the lowness of her spirits unnecessary; nothing,

therefore, could be fairly conjectured from _that_, though

Elizabeth, who was by this time tolerably well acquainted with

her own feelings, was perfectly aware that, had she known

nothing of Darcy, she could have borne the dread of Lydia's

infamy somewhat better. It would have spared her, she thought,

one sleepless night out of two.

 

When Mr. Bennet arrived, he had all the appearance of his usual

philosophic composure. He said as little as he had ever been

in the habit of saying; made no mention of the business that

had taken him away, and it was some time before his daughters

had courage to speak of it.

 

It was not till the afternoon, when he joined them at tea, that

Elizabeth ventured to introduce the subject; and then, on her

briefly expressing her sorrow for what he must have endured, he

replied, "Say nothing of that. Who would suffer but myself?

It has been my own doing, and I ought to feel it."

 

"You must not be too severe upon yourself," replied Elizabeth.

 

"You may well warn me against such an evil. Human nature is so

prone to fall into it! No, Lizzy, let me once in my life feel

how much I have been to blame. I am not afraid of being

overpowered by the impression. It will pass away soon enough."

 

"Do you suppose them to be in London?"

 

"Yes; where else can they be so well concealed?"

 

"And Lydia used to want to go to London," added Kitty.

 

"She is happy, then," said her father, drily; "and her

residence there will probably be of some duration."

 

Then, after a short silence, he continued, "Lizzy, I bear you

no ill-will for being justified in your advice to me last May,

which, considering the event, shews some greatness of mind."

 

They were interrupted by Miss Bennet, who came to fetch her

mother's tea.

 

"This is a parade," cried he, "which does one good; it gives

such an elegance to misfortune! Another day I will do the

same; I will sit in my library, in my night cap and powdering

gown, and give as much trouble as I can, -- or, perhaps, I may

defer it till Kitty runs away."

 

"I am not going to run away, Papa," said Kitty, fretfully;

"if _I_ should ever go to Brighton, I would behave better than

Lydia."

 

"_You_ go to Brighton! -- I would not trust you so near it as

East-Bourne, for fifty pounds! No, Kitty, I have at last

learnt to be cautious, and you will feel the effects of it.

No officer is ever to enter my house again, nor even to pass

through the village. Balls will be absolutely prohibited,

unless you stand up with one of your sisters. And you are

never to stir out of doors till you can prove that you have

spent ten minutes of every day in a rational manner."

 

Kitty, who took all these threats in a serious light, began to

cry.

 

"Well, well," said he, "do not make yourself unhappy. If you

are a good girl for the next ten years, I will take you to a

review at the end of them."

 

__

 

<CHAPTER VII (49)>

 

TWO days after Mr. Bennet's return, as Jane and Elizabeth were

walking together in the shrubbery behind the house, they saw

the housekeeper coming towards them, and concluding that she

came to call them to their mother, went forward to meet her;

but, instead of the expected summons, when they approached her

she said to Miss Bennet, "I beg your pardon, madam, for

interrupting you, but I was in hopes you might have got some

good news from town, so I took the liberty of coming to ask."

 

"What do you mean, Hill? We have heard nothing from town."

 

"Dear madam," cried Mrs. Hill, in great astonishment,

"don't you know there is an express come for master from

Mr. Gardiner? He has been here this half hour, and master has

had a letter."

 

Away ran the girls, too eager to get in to have time for

speech. They ran through the vestibule into the breakfast

room; from thence to the library; -- their father was in

neither; and they were on the point of seeking him up stairs

with their mother, when they were met by the butler, who said,

 

"If you are looking for my master, ma'am, he is walking towards

the little copse."

 

Upon this information, they instantly passed through the hall

once more, and ran across the lawn after their father, who was

deliberately pursuing his way towards a small wood on one side

of the paddock.

 

Jane, who was not so light, nor so much in the habit of

running, as Elizabeth, soon lagged behind, while her sister,

panting for breath, came up with him, and eagerly cried out,

 

"Oh, Papa, what news? what news? Have you heard from my

uncle?"

 

"Yes, I have had a letter from him by express."

 

"Well, and what news does it bring? good or bad?"

 

"What is there of good to be expected?" said he, taking the

letter from his pocket; "but perhaps you would like to read

it." Elizabeth impatiently caught it from his hand. Jane now

came up.

 

"Read it aloud," said their father, "for I hardly know myself

what it is about."

 

"Gracechurch-street, Monday, August 2.

 

MY DEAR BROTHER,

 

At last I am able to send you some tidings of my niece, and

such as, upon the whole, I hope will give you satisfaction.

Soon after you left me on Saturday, I was fortunate enough to

find out in what part of London they were. The particulars

I reserve till we meet. It is enough to know they are

discovered; I have seen them both -- "

 

"Then it is as I always hoped," cried Jane; "they are married!"

 

Elizabeth read on:

 

"I have seen them both. They are not married, nor can I find

there was any intention of being so; but if you are willing to

perform the engagements which I have ventured to make on your

side, I hope it will not be long before they are. All that is

required of you is to assure to your daughter, by settlement,

her equal share of the five thousand pounds secured among your

children after the decease of yourself and my sister; and,

moreover, to enter into an engagement of allowing her, during

your life, one hundred pounds per annum. These are conditions

which, considering every thing, I had no hesitation in

complying with, as far as I thought myself privileged, for you.

I shall send this by express, that no time may be lost in

bringing me your answer. You will easily comprehend, from

these particulars, that Mr. Wickham's circumstances are not so

hopeless as they are generally believed to be. The world has

been deceived in that respect; and, I am happy to say, there

will be some little money, even when all his debts are

discharged, to settle on my niece, in addition to her own

fortune. If, as I conclude will be the case, you send me full

powers to act in your name throughout the whole of this

business, I will immediately give directions to Haggerston for

preparing a proper settlement. There will not be the smallest

occasion for your coming to town again; therefore, stay quietly

at Longbourn, and depend an my diligence and care. Send back

your answer as soon as you can, and be careful to write

explicitly. We have judged it best that my niece should be

married from this house, of which I hope you will approve.

She comes to us to-day. I shall write again as soon as any

thing more is determined on. Your's, &c.

 

EDW. GARDINER."

 

"Is it possible!" cried Elizabeth, when she had finished. --

"Can it be possible that he will marry her?"

 

"Wickham is not so undeserving, then, as we have thought him!"

said her sister. "My dear father, I congratulate you."

 

"And have you answered the letter?" said Elizabeth.

 

"No; but it must be done soon."

 

Most earnestly did she then intreat him to lose no more time

before he wrote.

 

"Oh! my dear father," she cried, "come back, and write

immediately. Consider how important every moment is, in

such a case."

 

"Let me write for you," said Jane, "if you dislike the trouble

yourself."

 

"I dislike it very much," he replied; "but it must be done."

 

And so saying, he turned back with them, and walked towards the

house.

 

"And may I ask --?" said Elizabeth, "but the terms, I suppose,

must be complied with."

 

"Complied with! I am only ashamed of his asking so little."

 

"And they must marry! Yet he is such a man!"

 

"Yes, yes, they must marry. There is nothing else to be done.

But there are two things that I want very much to know: -- one

is, how much money your uncle has laid down to bring it about;

and the other, how I am ever to pay him."

 

"Money! my uncle!" cried Jane, "what do you mean, Sir?"

 

"I mean that no man in his senses would marry Lydia on so

slight a temptation as one hundred a year during my life, and

fifty after I am gone."

 

"That is very true," said Elizabeth; "though it had not

occurred to me before. His debts to be discharged, and

something still to remain! Oh! it must be my uncle's

doings! Generous, good man; I am afraid he has distressed

himself. A small sum could not do all this."

 

"No," said her father, "Wickham's a fool, if he takes her with

a farthing less than ten thousand pounds. I should be sorry to

think so ill of him in the very beginning of our relationship."

 

"Ten thousand pounds! Heaven forbid! How is half such a sum

to be repaid?"

 

Mr. Bennet made no answer, and each of them, deep in thought,

continued silent till they reached the house. Their father

then went to the library to write, and the girls walked into

the breakfast-room.

 

"And they are really to be married!" cried Elizabeth, as soon

as they were by themselves. "How strange this is! And for

_this_ we are to be thankful. That they should marry, small as

is their chance of happiness, and wretched as is his character,

we are forced to rejoice! Oh, Lydia!"

 

"I comfort myself with thinking," replied Jane, "that he

certainly would not marry Lydia if he had not a real regard for

her. Though our kind uncle has done something towards clearing

him, I cannot believe that ten thousand pounds, or any thing

like it, has been advanced. He has children of his own, and

may have more. How could he spare half ten thousand pounds?"

 

"If we are ever able to learn what Wickham's debts have been,"

said Elizabeth, "and how much is settled on his side on our

sister, we shall exactly know what Mr. Gardiner has done for

them, because Wickham has not sixpence of his own. The

kindness of my uncle and aunt can never be requited. Their

taking her home, and affording her their personal protection

and countenance, is such a sacrifice to her advantage as years

of gratitude cannot enough acknowledge. By this time she is

actually with them! If such goodness does not make her

miserable now, she will never deserve to be happy! What a