Jane Austen

The parlour of Mr. Collins's parsonage at Hunsford. At the back of the room is an open door. This door leads directly into the garden, beyond which is seen, through an opening in the trees of the park opposite, "the prospect of Rosings"—the residence of Lady Catherine de Bourg—"a handsome, modern building on rising ground." A wide cottage window, also at the back of the room, gives a plain view of the passers-by. On either side of the parlour is a door, leading to other parts of the house. Elizabeth is discovered standing at the open door and looking up at some one outside who is evidently climbing the trellis.

A Voice (outside.)

Is this the cluster you wish, Miss Bennet?

Elizabeth.

[Mischievously.] No, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Those are buds; the ones higher still. There—by the eaves.

[Elizabeth laughingly watches Colonel Fitzwilliam until he appears with a cluster of half opened roses, which he presents to her with a gallant air.]

Elizabeth.

[Taking the roses and putting them in her girdle.]

Thank you.

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

May not I have one, as my reward, Miss Bennet?

Elizabeth.

Is not accomplishment its own reward?

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

And is not the power to be generous the highest reward that can be given to any accomplishment?

Elizabeth.

Oh, surely! And so you would have to be generous and get me some more roses: then we should each of us have to invent new speeches, and so we should never be done till we were ready to print a phrase book. However, you have certainly won your rose. [She gives it to him.]

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Thank you! That phrase-book is a capital idea, Miss Bennet. Nothing could please me better than just such an occupation. It would really be a charity, for Darcy is such a dull fellow these days that I really don't know what to do with myself.

Elizabeth.

But we should hardly have the time for such a project. You say that you and Mr. Darcy are to leave Lady Catherine on Saturday.

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Yes, if Darcy doesn't put it off again. He has already paid our aunt a much longer visit than ever before. I am at his disposal, you know. He arranges the business just as he pleases.

Elizabeth.

I do not know anybody who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he pleases than Mr. Darcy.

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

He likes to have his own way very well, but so do we all. It is only that he has better means of having it than many others. [Looking at his watch.] I suppose I ought to go and look for him now. I expected to find him here, [With a meaning smile.] as not unfrequently happens. But since he is not, he probably expects me to meet him at the Crossroads.

Elizabeth.

I imagine your cousin brought you down with him chiefly for the sake of having somebody at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry to secure a lasting convenience of that kind. But perhaps his sister does as well for the present,—and, as she is under his sole care, he may do what he likes with her.

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

No—that is an advantage which he must share with me. I am joined with him in the guardianship of Miss Darcy.

Elizabeth.

Are you, indeed? And pray what sort of a guardian do you make? Does your charge give you much trouble? Young ladies of her age are sometimes a little difficult to manage. And, if she has the true Darcy spirit, she may like to have her own way.

[Colonel Fitzwilliam looks at Elizabeth very suspiciously as she makes this last remark.]

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Why—what?—Why do you suppose Miss Darcy is likely to give us any uneasiness, Miss Bennet?

Elizabeth.

[Carelessly.] Oh, nothing at all! You need not be frightened! I never heard any harm of her; she is a great favourite with a lady of my acquaintance—Miss Bingley. I think I have heard you say that you knew Miss Bingley.

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

I know her a little. Her brother is a pleasant, gentlemanlike man. He is a great friend of Darcy's.

Elizabeth.

Oh, yes. Mr. Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr. Bingley and takes a prodigious deal of care of him.

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Care of him? Yes, I really believe Darcy does take care of him. From something he has told me, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted to him. [Stopping.] But I ought to beg his pardon, for I have no right to suppose that Bingley was the person meant.

Elizabeth.

[Curiously, and with ill-concealed anxiety.] What is it you mean?

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

It is a circumstance which, of course, Darcy could not wish to be generally known, because if it were to get round to the lady's family it would be an unpleasant thing.

Elizabeth.

You may depend upon my not mentioning it.

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

And, remember, that I haven't much reason for supposing it to be Bingley. What he told me was merely this: that he congratulated himself on having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a most imprudent marriage, but without names or any other particulars, and I only suspected it to be Bingley from believing him to be the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort.

Elizabeth.

[Trying to suppress her feeling.] Did Mr. Darcy give you his reasons for this interference?

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

I understood that there were some very strong objections against the lady.

Elizabeth.

Indeed! [Trying to speak calmly.] And what arts did he use to separate them?

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

[Smiling.] He did not talk to me of his own arts. He only told me, what I have now told you.

Elizabeth.

Why was your cousin to be the judge?

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

You are rather disposed to call his interference officious?

Elizabeth.

[Growing excited.] I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his friend's inclination; why, upon his own judgment alone, Mr. Darcy was to determine in what manner his friend was to be happy. [Recovering herself.] But as we know none of the particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed that there was much affection in the case.

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

That is not an unnatural surmise, and I believe Darcy told me that he did not think that the lady, at least, was very deeply concerned in the matter. However, to lessen the affection on either side is to lessen the honour of my cousin's triumph very sadly.

Elizabeth.

Your cousin's triumph——

[Greatly excited, she is about to continue, when Charlotte's voice is heard outside.]

Charlotte.

Yes, Mr. Darcy, I think I saw Colonel Fitzwilliam go up the garden path a few moments ago. [Protesting.] Oh, no, Mr. Darcy, you are too kind! Really——

Darcy.

[Outside.] Pray, allow me.

[Charlotte enters, accompanied by Darcy, who is carrying a basket of eggs. She wears a garden hat and gloves.]

Charlotte.

Ah, here he is. Good morning, Colonel Fitzwilliam. [To Darcy.] Pray let me have the basket now, Mr. Darcy. [Darcy gives Charlotte the basket, and then turns to Elizabeth.]

Darcy.

Good morning, Miss Bennet. [Elizabeth returns Darcy's greeting with a self-consciousness which does not escape his notice, but the motive of which he mistakes. Darcy gives a quick glance from Elizabeth to Colonel Fitzwilliam, as he turns to speak to the latter.] Ah, Fitzwilliam, I thought I might find you here.

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

[Lightly.] Yes, I have been so fortunate as to secure some of Mrs. Collins's early roses for Miss Bennet.

Charlotte.

[In surprise.] Really! Have they already opened?

Elizabeth.

[Who has by this time recovered her self-possession.] A very few of them. But Colonel Fitzwilliam was obliged to climb very near to the sun to get me these. [She looks admiringly upon the flowers as she speaks.]

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

[Showing the rose which Elizabeth has given him.]

And you see I have my reward.

Darcy.

[Smiling faintly.] Colonel Fitzwilliam might not have won his prize so easily, Miss Bennet, had there been others in the field.

Elizabeth.

Ah, no, Mr. Darcy, I cannot lessen Colonel Fitzwilliam's achievement by admitting any such possibility.

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

[Gallantly.] Thank you, Miss Bennet!

[Darcy turns away with an unconscious look of chagrin.]

Charlotte.

Well, surely, my roses will have to bloom their prettiest this season in return for all the attention they have received. [To the young men.] Will not you be seated, gentlemen?

Darcy.

[Tartly.] Thanks, no, Mrs. Collins; I merely stopped for Colonel Fitzwilliam; but perhaps his rose-gathering has caused him to abandon our project of taking a walk together this morning.

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

By no means, Darcy, that pleasure has only been deferred.

Darcy.

Very good then. We will go at once, if Mrs. Collins and Miss Bennet will pardon me this hasty call.

Charlotte.

Certainly, Mr. Darcy! [Elizabeth also, absent-mindedly, murmurs her assent, for which Darcy lingers with vague uneasiness before departing with Fitzwilliam. Charlotte looks at Elizabeth curiously, then calls to the little maid, who enters.]

Charlotte.

Martha—take these eggs to the pantry. Do not disturb them.

Martha.

Very well, ma'am.

[She curtsies and goes out.]

Charlotte.

[Taking off her hat and gloves.] Now, Eliza, we must get to our work and have a comfortable chat. You have been here nearly two weeks and we really haven't had a good talk yet.

Elizabeth.

[Getting out her embroidery.] Yes, you promised me a quiet visit, Charlotte. But I find you are more lively here than we are at Longbourn.

[The two ladies sit at the table with their embroidery.]

Charlotte.

But how could I have anticipated the arrival here of two very attentive young gentlemen? [Smiling at Elizabeth.] It is really quite a surprising coincidence, or else Mr. Darcy has timed his visit to his aunt very cleverly. As to these daily visits to the parsonage—you may be sure I do not take to myself the credit of them. Neither of these young gentlemen would ever come so often to see me. I have to thank you, Eliza, for this civility.

Elizabeth.

[With a little temper.] You may thank a lack of occupation on their part. You know very well my opinion of Mr. Darcy!

Charlotte.

Yes. You have often expressed it. I wish I were as well informed of Mr. Darcy's opinion of Eliza.

Elizabeth.

When you know the one, you know the other. They are identical.

Charlotte.

Well, perhaps under the circumstances, that is the most satisfactory condition of things. And do we hold the same opinion of Colonel Fitzwilliam?

Elizabeth.

[Tossing her head.] Oh, Colonel Fitzwilliam!

Charlotte.

[Looking at Elizabeth sharply, and after a short silence.] And so Jane is once more at home after her visit in London, and Lydia has gone to Brighton after all. How did she ever manage to persuade your father?

Elizabeth.

Oh, Lydia was so determined upon it that she and mamma gave my father no peace till they had teased him to consent. But I am very sorry. Lydia is too foolish, too ignorant and wilful to be trusted away from home. I only hope that no harm will come of it.

Charlotte.

And is Mr. Wickham still with the regiment?

Elizabeth.

Yes, he went with it to Brighton.

Charlotte.

I hear that he is thinking of marrying Miss King, since she has just received a legacy of ten thousand pounds. I should be sorry to think that our friend was mercenary.

Elizabeth.

A man in distressed circumstances has not time for all those elegant decorums which other people may observe. If Miss King does not object to it, why should we?

Charlotte.

Her not objecting does not justify—him.

Elizabeth.

[Emphatically.] Well, have it as you choose. He shall be mercenary, and she shall be foolish! Mr. Wickham's worst fault, after all, is his power of being agreeable. Thank heaven, we both of us know some men who haven't one agreeable quality. Stupid men are the only ones worth knowing!

Charlotte.

[Smiling.] Well, well, Eliza! That speech savours a little of—disappointment.

Elizabeth.

Oh, yes—anything you please!

Charlotte.

[Changing the subject.] And you say that Jane is not in her usual spirits?

Elizabeth.

[Shortly.] Yes.

Charlotte.

And she is looking poorly?

Elizabeth.

[Still more shortly.] Yes—very!

Charlotte.

Did she see much of the Bingleys in London?

Elizabeth.

[Bursting out hotly.] She saw nothing of them. Oh, Charlotte, I have just had all my suspicions verified.

Charlotte.

Your suspicions?

Elizabeth.

Yes, there has been an arrangement in all this. Mr. Bingley has been kept away from Jane by—— [Stops suddenly.]

Charlotte.

[Looks up curiously, then speaks quickly.] Don't imagine any such nonsense, Eliza. A young man like Mr. Bingley so easily falls in love with a pretty girl for a few weeks—and, when accident separates them, so easily forgets her, that this sort of inconstancy is very frequent.

Elizabeth.

We do not suffer from accident, Charlotte. A young man of independent fortune does not suddenly decide of his own free will to think no more of a girl with whom he was violently in love.

Charlotte.

But were they so violently in love?

Elizabeth.

Yes—I never saw a more promising inclination. Why, Mr. Bingley would talk to no one else—would look at no one else. Is not general incivility the very essence of love?

Charlotte.

[Smiling.] It is usually a good test. But if Jane did not return his affection—— It really did not seem to me that there was anything violent in Jane's attitude. I could never see that she showed any extreme affection for Bingley.

Elizabeth.

[Hotly.] Well, I know that Jane was very much in love with him, and that she showed her affection as much as her nature would allow. If Bingley didn't see it he must have been a simpleton. No—the real trouble was that Jane didn't see him often enough, perhaps, to make her understand his character.

Charlotte.

Oh, if Jane were married to Bingley to-morrow, I should think she had as good a chance of happiness as if she were studying him for a twelve-month. It is far better to know as little as possible of the person with whom you are to pass your life.

Elizabeth.

[Demurely.] In some cases that is undoubtedly true.

Mr. Collins.

[Appears at the garden door. He wears a wide-brimmed hat and carries a hoe—also a large basket. He looks in.] Ah! A very charming domestic picture! [Taking a bunch of radishes from the basket, he speaks to Charlotte.] My dear, I have found some fine early radishes. I thought it would be a graceful attention on your part to send some of these to Miss de Bourg. [He sits upon the chair near the doorway.]

Charlotte.

I fear the apothecary might object.

Mr. Collins.

True—they might not be suitable, but [Looking at them proudly.] they are very fine radishes. [To Elizabeth.] Miss Elizabeth, I am very successful in my gardening. I consider the work I do in my garden to be one of my most respectable pleasures. Lady Catherine is always ready to encourage me in it, and my dear Charlotte is ever willing that I should leave her side for the sake of this healthful exercise. [Looking at the radishes again.] It is, indeed, a pity that Miss de Bourg is not well enough to enjoy them. My dear Charlotte has doubtless told you, Miss Elizabeth, of the alliance which is in prospect between Miss de Bourg and Mr. Darcy. This extreme delicacy of constitution would seem to be the only bar to their happiness.

Elizabeth.

Yes, Charlotte has told me that Miss de Bourg is sickly. She will make Mr. Darcy a very proper wife.

[Charlotte looks anxiously at Mr. Collins as Elizabeth says this, but he is gazing out of the door and does not seem to notice the remark.]

Mr. Collins.

I hope you are pleased with Kent, Miss Elizabeth.

Elizabeth.

Very much, Mr. Collins.

Mr. Collins.

I do not think the kingdom can boast a grander scene than the one now spread before our eyes: [Pointing.] This garden—that park with Rosings in the distance. Do not you think my dear Charlotte is most fortunately placed, Miss Elizabeth?

Elizabeth.

Most fortunately, Mr. Collins.

Mr. Collins.

And when you have seen Lady Catherine, you will be more deeply impressed, I am sure. We can hardly expect her to call upon you. This illness of Miss de Bourg would prevent it, and in any case it would be an act of extreme condescension on her part; but I am quite confident that you will receive an invitation to drink tea of a Sunday evening with her, after Mr. Darcy and his cousin are gone, of course. And—we may later have an invitation to dinner—although I would not for the world arouse in you false hopes which may be shattered.

Martha.

[Enters in great excitement.] Oh, Mrs. Collins! Lady Catherine's carriage is turning into the lane and she is in it!

Mr. Collins.

[Rising in great excitement.] Lady Catherine—at this hour! What amazing condescension! [He turns in a helpless manner to Charlotte.] But, my dear, I am quite unprepared. My habiliments—I would not be wanting in respect.—What shall I do?

Charlotte.

[Hurriedly putting up her work and giving her hat and gloves to the maid.] Go make yourself ready, Mr. Collins. We will do the same. [Charlotte pushes Mr. Collins gently toward the door.]

Mr. Collins.

[Protesting.] Yes—yes! But this implement——

[He holds out the hoe.]

Charlotte.

Give it to Martha!

[Mr. Collins hastily gives the hoe to the maid and then goes out. He instantly returns, however, and again appeals in distressed tones to his wife.]

Mr. Collins.

[Holding out the basket.] And these radishes, my dear?

Charlotte.

Martha, take the radishes from Mr. Collins.

Martha.

Yes, ma'am.

Mr. Collins.

[Again emerging from the door.] Do not make yourself uneasy about your own apparel, Miss Elizabeth; Lady Catherine is far from requiring that elegance in us which becomes herself and daughter—I——

Charlotte.

[Impatiently.] Oh, do go, Mr. Collins! Lady Catherine will be here in an instant!

[She shuts the door on Mr. Collins.]

Elizabeth.

[Greatly amused at all this excitement.] Are you going to make any change in your dress, Charlotte? Do you wish me to do so?

Charlotte.

Well, Eliza, if you wouldn't mind, I should like you to put on your sprigged muslin. In spite of what Mr. Collins says, I know it would please him. I have no time to change. Is my cap straight? Oh, here she is. [To the maid, who stands staring, with her arms full.] Why, Martha! Are you still there? Go! Go! [She bustles the maid out of one door, then runs to the other, calling her husband.] Mr. Collins! Mr. Collins!

Elizabeth.

So, at last—her high and only mightiness! No tremors, Elizabeth! Now is the time for all your courage. [She runs laughing out of the room.]

Lady Catherine.

[As she reaches the door.] You keep too many hens, Mrs. Collins. There is just a certain number which are profitable—beyond that there is waste. [Lady Catherine sits on the sofa.] A clergyman's wife should set an example of thrift. You should have asked my advice.

Mr. Collins.

Mrs. Collins will in the future regulate her poultry-yard according to your directions, Lady Catherine, if you will be so condescending as to give them.

Charlotte.

Yes, thank you, Lady Catherine.

Mr. Collins.

Will your Ladyship not take some refreshment?

Charlotte.

Oh, yes—let me fetch you a cup of tea?

Lady Catherine.

No, no—I wish nothing. [To Mr. Collins.] But you may go, Mr. Collins, and see if Jones is walking the horses up and down. I do not trust Jones.

Mr. Collins.

With great pleasure, your Ladyship. [Mr. Collins goes out.]

Lady Catherine.

[To Charlotte.] I thought you had a visitor, Mrs. Collins.

Charlotte.

Yes, your Ladyship—I have. It is my friend, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She is a cousin of Mr. Collins and a neighbour of ours in Hertfordshire.

Lady Catherine.

I have heard about her. Fitzwilliam says she is a very genteel, pretty kind of girl.

Charlotte.

[Pleased.] Indeed she is, Lady Catherine.

Lady Catherine.

Well, where is she?

Charlotte.

She has gone to make a little change in her dress, before presenting herself to your Ladyship.

Lady Catherine.

Oh! very proper—very proper!

Charlotte.

I am delighted to hear that Miss de Bourg is better, Lady Catherine.

Lady Catherine.

Yes, thank you. She is very greatly improved. [After a slight pause, with impatience.] Well, Miss Bennet takes her time!

Charlotte.

[Anxiously.] I am sure she will be here in a moment. [Elizabeth enters.] Oh, here she is. [Presenting Elizabeth.] Lady Catherine, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. [Elizabeth curtsies.]

Lady Catherine.

[Without leaving her seat, looks Elizabeth over from head to foot.] Oh, how do you do, Miss Bennet. You are younger than I thought!

Elizabeth.

[Smiling.] Indeed?

Lady Catherine.

You know my nephew, Mr. Darcy?

Elizabeth.

Yes, I met him in Hertfordshire.

Lady Catherine.

Humph! And you know Colonel Fitzwilliam?

Elizabeth.

I have only met Colonel Fitzwilliam since coming here.

Lady Catherine.

Humph! Has your governess left you?

Elizabeth.

[Half laughs.] My sisters and I have never had a governess, Madam.

Lady Catherine.

No governess! I never heard of such a thing! Your mother must have been quite a slave to your education.

Elizabeth.

[Smiling.] I assure you she was not, Lady Catherine.

Lady Catherine.

Then who taught you? Without a governess you must have been neglected.

Elizabeth.

Such of us as wished to learn, never wanted the means, Madam.

Lady Catherine.

Well, if I had known your mother, I should have advised her most strenuously to engage a governess. I should have seen to it myself. [To Charlotte.] Go on with your work, Mrs. Collins. A clergyman's wife should set an example of industry. [Looking at Charlotte's embroidery with disapproval.] I will send you some more of the parish petticoats to hem, Mrs. Collins. [To Elizabeth.] Go on with your work, Miss Bennet. Young ladies should never be idle. [Both Elizabeth and Charlotte go on with their embroidery. Looking hard at Elizabeth.] Pray what is your age, Miss Bennet?

Elizabeth.

I am not one and twenty.

Lady Catherine.

You have sisters, have not you?

Elizabeth.

Yes, Madam.

Lady Catherine.

Are any of them out?

Elizabeth.

All, Madam.

Lady Catherine.

What! All out at once? Very odd! Out before the oldest is married!

Elizabeth.

Really, Madam, I think it would be very hard on the younger sisters not to have their share of society because the eldest one does not happen to be married. That would hardly be likely to promote sisterly affection, or delicacy of mind.

Lady Catherine.

Upon my word, you give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person! Your sisters may be married before you. You must not be too ambitious. A good many young girls have lost their chances through being too ambitious. [Looking at a large picture on the wall and then pointing to it.] Mrs. Collins, I suppose you have shown Miss Bennet this print of Pemberley—Mr. Darcy's place?

Charlotte.

Yes, Lady Catherine.

Lady Catherine.

[Complacently.] Pemberley is one of the finest places in England. My daughter Anne is very fond of it, which is fortunate, since she will probably spend the most of her life there.

Charlotte.

Most fortunate, your Ladyship.

Lady Catherine.

[To Elizabeth.] You see my nephews here often, Miss Bennet?

Elizabeth.

[Mischievously.] Yes, very often, Lady Catherine.

Lady Catherine.

Humph! Well, idle young gentlemen often make very foolish use of their time. My daughter, Miss de Bourg, is unfortunately not able to accompany Mr. Darcy in his walks as often as both of them could desire.

Mr. Collins.

[Entering.] I think your Ladyship's mind may be quite at rest about the horses. Jones seems to have them well in hand.

Lady Catherine.

Oh, I am glad you have come back, Mr. Collins. I am going to ask you and Mrs. Collins to go and see the new cottages with me. I shall take you in the carriage. [To Charlotte.] You had better put on a plain bonnet, Mrs. Collins.

Charlotte.

By all means, your Ladyship. [She goes out.]

Lady Catherine.

Are you quite ready to go, Mr. Collins?

Mr. Collins.

Oh—assuredly, your Ladyship—quite!

Lady Catherine.

[To Elizabeth.] Miss Bennet, I should advise you to write to your family while we are gone. [Charlotte returns in her bonnet and mantle. Lady Catherine looks her over.] Yes, that will do very well!

Charlotte.

[To Elizabeth.] We shall not be gone very long, Eliza.

Lady Catherine.

I am not sure of that, Mrs. Collins, but I have provided an occupation for Miss Bennet during our absence. Good morning, Miss Bennet. I may ask you later for dinner.

Elizabeth.

[Curtsying.] Good morning, Madam. [All go out, Mr. Collins showing servile attentions to Lady Catherine. Elizabeth watches them from the door.] Really! I might have spared myself some of the mortifications I have felt for the shortcomings of my own family. The contrast is not such a violent one after all. [Looking at the writing desk.] However, Lady Catherine can give good advice. I really ought to write to my poor, dear Jane.

Darcy.

I am here again, Miss Bennet. I saw Mr. and Mrs. Collins drive away with my aunt. I have something which I must say to you. [He walks excitedly up and down for a moment, while Elizabeth watches him in amazed silence. Then he suddenly goes up to her and begins to speak in an agitated manner.] Miss Bennet—in vain have I struggled! It will not do! My feelings will not be repressed! You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you!

Elizabeth.

[Is perfectly astounded. She stares, colours, doubts, and is silent.]

Darcy.

[Taking her silence for encouragement.] Miss Bennet, I can well understand your own astonishment at this declaration, for I am amazed at myself! My feeling for you has taken possession of me against my will, my reason, and almost against my character!

Elizabeth.

[Starting in indignation.] Sir!

Darcy.

Oh, understand me, I beg of you! For yourself alone my admiration is only too natural. I share it with everyone who has the happiness of knowing you. But—pardon me—for it pains me to offend you—the defects of your nearest relations, the total lack of propriety so frequently betrayed by your family, has so opposed my judgment to my inclination, that it has required the utmost force of passion on my part to put them aside. But, my dear Miss Bennet, your triumph is complete. Your own loveliness stands out the fairer in its contrast to your surroundings, and I now hope that the strength of my love may have its reward in your acceptance of my hand.

Elizabeth.

[Who has gone through all sorts of emotions during this speech, speaks, in a constrained manner as if trying to control herself.] Mr. Darcy—in such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. If I could feel gratitude I would now thank you. But I cannot. I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly.

Darcy.

[Leaning against the mantel-piece, hears her words with no less resentment than surprise. After a little he speaks in a voice of forced calmness.] And that is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting? I might perhaps wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.

Elizabeth.

I might as well inquire why, with so evident a design of insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, your reason, and even against your character! Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil?

Darcy.

I very clearly explained that the objections which appealed to my reason applied entirely to your family, and in no respect to yourself.

Elizabeth.

I am a part of my family, Mr. Darcy; and allow me to say that, since I have had the opportunity of comparing my relations with your own, the contrast is not so marked as I had been led to suppose. [Darcy starts.] But—aside from all questions of either feeling or family—do you think any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister, and involving her in misery of the acutest kind? [Darcy looks at her with a smile of incredulity..] Can you deny that you have done this?

Darcy.

I have no wish of denying that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your sister. I did not, indeed, anticipate that I should involve either of them in "misery" of any kind. On your sister's side, at least, I was never able to discover any symptoms of peculiar regard for Mr. Bingley. While, for every reason, I must rejoice in my success with my friend; toward him I have been kinder than toward myself.

Elizabeth.

[With disdain.] Your arrogance in calmly deciding the extent of other people's sentiments does not surprise me. It is of a piece with your whole nature! But your interference in my sister's concerns is not all. Long before it had taken place, my opinion of you was decided. Your character was unfolded in the recital which I received months ago from Mr. Wickham. [Darcy starts excitedly.] What can you have to say on this subject? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself?

Darcy.

[In a tone of suppressed excitement, in marked contrast to his previous self-assured manner.] You take an eager interest in that gentleman.

Elizabeth.

Who that knows what his misfortunes have been can help feeling an interest in him?

Darcy.

[Contemptuously.] His misfortunes! Yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed!

Elizabeth.

[With energy.] And of your infliction! You have reduced him to his present state of poverty—comparative poverty; you have withheld the advantages which you must know to have been designed for him. You have done all this, and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortunes with contempt and ridicule!

Darcy.

[Walking up and down the room with quick steps.] And this is your opinion of me? This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. [Stopping and looking at her.] Perhaps if I were to divulge the truth regarding Mr. Wickham, I might give you as great a surprise as you have given me. [After a slight pause.] I do not care to go into particulars, but in justice to myself, I must tell you that the man whom you consider a martyr is a profligate with the most vicious propensities. A man who should never have entered your home, for his presence there is a constant source of danger.

Elizabeth.

[In indignation.] Mr. Darcy!

Darcy.

[With dignity.] I am ready to give you the full proofs of all I have said, Miss Bennet, whenever you may so desire, although I would gladly forget all the miserable circumstances myself, and no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold them to any human being.

Elizabeth.

[Coldly.] Your judgment in the matter of my sister's happiness has given me a gauge by which I can measure your fairness to a man who has been so unfortunate as to offend you. My faith in Mr. Wickham is unshaken.

Darcy.

[Looking at Elizabeth in indignation and by a great effort governing himself.] I shall take what you have said, Miss Bennet, as a reflection on my judgment alone; otherwise, my veracity would be at stake, and this, I am sure, you did not intend. Indeed I understand your whole position perfectly. I have erred in the manner of my declaration. Your bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I concealed my struggles. It is my own fault. I have wounded your pride. I should have flattered you into the belief that I was impelled by inclination, by reason, by reflection, by everything! But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections?

Elizabeth.

[Angrily.] And do you expect me to rejoice in your proposal that I ally myself to the conceit and impertinence of yours? No, Mr. Darcy! The manner of your declaration has affected me only in one way:—it has spared me the concern which I might otherwise have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike way. [Darcy starts.] You could not, however, have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it. [Darcy looks at her with an expression of mortified amazement.] I had not known you a month, before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.

Darcy.

You have said quite enough, Madam! I perfectly comprehend your feelings and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness. [Darcy hastily leaves the room.]

Elizabeth.

[Sinking into a chair, then getting up and walking excitedly about the room.] To insult my family! To think I was ready to fall on my knees, in gratitude for his condescension! To calmly dispose of Jane's happiness! [Stopping in her walk and with a half-amused smile.] And yet really to be in love with me in spite of every obstacle. [Throwing herself again into the chair, half laughing, half crying.] Oh, Jane, Jane! I wish you were here!

Martha.

[Enters with a letter.] Here is a letter, Miss. The express has just brought it.

Elizabeth.

A letter? For me?

Maid.

Yes, Miss—[She gives Elizabeth the letter; curtsies and goes out.]

Elizabeth.

[Looking at the letter.] Why, it is from Jane! What can be the matter? [She opens the letter hurriedly and reads.] "Dearest Lizzy—I have bad news for you, and it cannot be delayed. An express came to us last night from Colonel Forster. He told us that Lydia had run away from Brighton with one of his officers:—to own the truth—with Wickham!"

Elizabeth.

Oh! Wickham! [Going on with the letter.] "He first thought they had gone to Scotland, but, oh, Lizzy, it is far worse than that! We now know that Wickham never intended to go there, or to marry Lydia at all!"

Elizabeth.

Oh! [Reading again.] "Colonel Forster has been here to-day. He says Wickham is not a man to be trusted! He has left Brighton terribly in debt, and his record is bad in every way. Oh, Lizzy, our distress is very great! My father is going to London with Colonel Forster instantly to try to discover the fugitives. It is hard to ask you to shorten your visit, but we are in such distress that——" [Darting from her seat.] Oh where—where is the express? I must write. No—I must go. Oh, Lydia and Wickham! I must go at once! I must send someone for a carriage. [She rushes to the garden door calling.] Martha, Martha! The express! [Suddenly she calls again.] Oh, Colonel Fitzwilliam, is that you?

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

[Appearing in the garden.] What is the matter, Miss Bennet?

Elizabeth.

[Wildly.] Oh, Colonel Fitzwilliam—the express—or can you get me a carriage? I have bad news from home. I must return at once and Mr. Collins is away. Will you be so kind? [She falls, half-fainting, upon a chair near the door.]

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

[With concern.] Certainly, my dear Miss Bennet—of course—but—— [Calling off.] Darcy, don't wait for me. I can't join you now. Miss Bennet is in distress.

Darcy.

[Entering.] Miss Bennet? Good God! What is the matter?

Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Miss Bennet has just had bad news from home. She wishes to return, and desires a carriage.

Darcy.

[In a decided tone.] Do you go for the carriage, Fitzwilliam. Get one from the stables. [Fitzwilliam hesitates.]

Darcy.

Go. I will remain with Miss Bennet.

[Fitzwilliam goes out.]

Darcy.

[To Elizabeth very gently.] Shall I call the maid, Miss Bennet? A glass of wine? Shall I get it for you? You are very ill.

Elizabeth.

[Hardly able to speak.] No, I thank you: there is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well. I am only distressed by some dreadful news which I have just received from Longbourn. [She bursts into tears.]

Darcy.

[Helplessly.] I am sorry, very indeed!

Elizabeth.

[After a short silence.] I have just had a letter from Jane with such dreadful news! It cannot be concealed from anyone.

Darcy.

I am grieved, Miss Bennet. Grieved indeed!

Elizabeth.

Oh, Mr. Darcy, you were right. If I had only believed you! You, and others! But I could not believe it. [She sobs.]

Darcy.

[Greatly moved.] What is it, my dear Miss Bennet? What has happened?

Elizabeth.

[Wildly.] Oh, I cannot tell it, and yet everyone must know! My sister Lydia—has—has eloped—has thrown herself into the power of—of Mr. Wickham! She has no money, nothing that can tempt him to—she is lost forever! [She sobs again.]

Darcy.

Good God, Miss Bennet! Your sister and Wickham! Oh, this is my fault. I should have realised this danger—I should have spoken. My own wretched experience with this man should have been told.

Elizabeth.

[Wonderingly.] Your experience!

Darcy.

Yes—I—you remember. I hinted it to you—to-day. But I should long ago have spoken boldly.

Elizabeth.

What do you mean?

Darcy.

Mr. Wickham attempted this same plan with my own sister—two years ago. She was an ignorant, innocent, trusting girl of fifteen. Happily, his villainy was discovered and prevented. But oh, I should have told you! Had his character been known, this could not have happened.

Elizabeth.

You tried to tell me, Mr. Darcy. Everybody has tried to warn me. But I could not believe it, and now—it is too late, too late!

Darcy.

Let us hope not. Is what you have told me certain—absolutely certain?

Elizabeth.

Oh, yes. They left Brighton together on Sunday night. They are certainly not gone to Scotland.

Darcy.

And what has been done, or attempted, to recover your sister?

Elizabeth.

My father has gone to London. He will beg my uncle Gardiner's assistance. But nothing can be done! I know very well that nothing can be done. How is such a man to be worked on? How are they ever to be discovered? I have not the smallest hope. It is all horrible!

Darcy.

Miss Bennet, I have made a wretched mistake in all this. Would to Heaven that anything could be said or done on my part that might make you reparation, or offer consolation to such distress!

Darcy.

[Looking out.] Mr. and Mrs. Collins are returning. What would you wish me to do?

Elizabeth.

Oh, I do not know! I do not know!

Darcy.

[Returning to Elizabeth, speaks quickly and in deep concern.] You really wish to return home at once?

Elizabeth.

[Rising from her chair.] Oh, yes, yes—at once. [Reaching her hand to him appealingly.] Take me home, Mr. Darcy! Take me home!