The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen

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Title: Pride and Prejudice

Author: Jane Austen

Release Date: August 26, 2008 [EBook #1342]
[Last updated: August 11, 2011]

Language: English

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Produced by Anonymous Volunteers, and David Widger






PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

By Jane Austen



Contents

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21

Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42

Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61





Chapter 1
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune,
must be in want of a wife.
However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a
neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is
considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.
"My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have you heard that Netherfield
Park is let at last?"
Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.
"But it is," returned she; "for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told me all about it."
Mr. Bennet made no answer.
"Do you not want to know who has taken it?" cried his wife impatiently.
"You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it."
This was invitation enough.
"Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken by a young
man of large fortune from the north of England; that he came down on Monday in a chaise
and four to see the place, and was so much delighted with it, that he agreed with Mr. Morris
immediately; that he is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are
to be in the house by the end of next week."
"What is his name?"
"Bingley."
"Is he married or single?"
"Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or five thousand a
year. What a fine thing for our girls!"
"How so? How can it affect them?"
"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "how can you be so tiresome! You must know
that I am thinking of his marrying one of them."
"Is that his design in settling here?"
"Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he may fall in love
with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as he comes."
"I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you may send them by
themselves, which perhaps will be still better, for as you are as handsome as any of them,
Mr. Bingley may like you the best of the party."
"My dear, you flatter me. I certainly have had my share of beauty, but I do not pretend to
be anything extraordinary now. When a woman has five grown-up daughters, she ought to
give over thinking of her own beauty."
"In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of."
"But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when he comes into the
neighbourhood."
"It is more than I engage for, I assure you."
"But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment it would be for one of
them. Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to go, merely on that account, for in
general, you know, they visit no newcomers. Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible
for us to visit him if you do not."
"You are over-scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be very glad to see you;
and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying
whichever he chooses of the girls; though I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy."
"I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the others; and I am sure
she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so good-humoured as Lydia. But you are
always giving her the preference."
"They have none of them much to recommend them," replied he; "they are all silly and
ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of quickness than her sisters."
"Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You take delight in
vexing me. You have no compassion for my poor nerves."
"You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old
friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these last twenty years at least."
"Ah, you do not know what I suffer."
"But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of four thousand a year
come into the neighbourhood."
"It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come, since you will not visit them."
"Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will visit them all."
Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice,
that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife
understand his character. Her mind was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean
understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented, she
fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her daughters married; its solace
was visiting and news.



Chapter 2
Mr. Bennet was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. Bingley. He had always
intended to visit him, though to the last always assuring his wife that he should not go; and
till the evening after the visit was paid she had no knowledge of it. It was then disclosed in
the following manner. Observing his second daughter employed in trimming a hat, he
suddenly addressed her with:
"I hope Mr. Bingley will like it, Lizzy."
"We are not in a way to know what Mr. Bingley likes," said her mother resentfully,
"since we are not to visit."
"But you forget, mamma," said Elizabeth, "that we shall meet him at the assemblies, and
that Mrs. Long promised to introduce him."
"I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such thing. She has two nieces of her own. She is
a selfish, hypocritical woman, and I have no opinion of her."
"No more have I," said Mr. Bennet; "and I am glad to find that you do not depend on her
serving you."
Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any reply, but, unable to contain herself, began
scolding one of her daughters.
"Don't keep coughing so, Kitty, for Heaven's sake! Have a little compassion on my
nerves. You tear them to pieces."
"Kitty has no discretion in her coughs," said her father; "she times them ill."
"I do not cough for my own amusement," replied Kitty fretfully. "When is your next ball
to be, Lizzy?"
"To-morrow fortnight."
"Aye, so it is," cried her mother, "and Mrs. Long does not come back till the day before;
so it will be impossible for her to introduce him, for she will not know him herself."
"Then, my dear, you may have the advantage of your friend, and introduce Mr. Bingley
to her."
"Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, when I am not acquainted with him myself; how
can you be so teasing?"
"I honour your circumspection. A fortnight's acquaintance is certainly very little. One
cannot know what a man really is by the end of a fortnight. But if we do not venture
somebody else will; and after all, Mrs. Long and her daughters must stand their chance;
and, therefore, as she will think it an act of kindness, if you decline the office, I will take it
on myself."
The girls stared at their father. Mrs. Bennet said only, "Nonsense, nonsense!"
"What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation?" cried he. "Do you consider the
forms of introduction, and the stress that is laid on them, as nonsense? I cannot quite agree
with you there. What say you, Mary? For you are a young lady of deep reflection, I know,
and read great books and make extracts."
Mary wished to say something sensible, but knew not how.
"While Mary is adjusting her ideas," he continued, "let us return to Mr. Bingley."
"I am sick of Mr. Bingley," cried his wife.
"I am sorry to hear that; but why did not you tell me that before? If I had known as much
this morning I certainly would not have called on him. It is very unlucky; but as I have
actually paid the visit, we cannot escape the acquaintance now."
The astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished; that of Mrs. Bennet perhaps
surpassing the rest; though, when the first tumult of joy was over, she began to declare that
it was what she had expected all the while.
"How good it was in you, my dear Mr. Bennet! But I knew I should persuade you at last.
I was sure you loved your girls too well to neglect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased
I am! and it is such a good joke, too, that you should have gone this morning and never said
a word about it till now."
"Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you choose," said Mr. Bennet; and, as he spoke,
he left the room, fatigued with the raptures of his wife.
"What an excellent father you have, girls!" said she, when the door was shut. "I do not
know how you will ever make him amends for his kindness; or me, either, for that matter.
At our time of life it is not so pleasant, I can tell you, to be making new acquaintances every
day; but for your sakes, we would do anything. Lydia, my love, though you are the
youngest, I dare say Mr. Bingley will dance with you at the next ball."
"Oh!" said Lydia stoutly, "I am not afraid; for though I am the youngest, I'm the tallest."
The rest of the evening was spent in conjecturing how soon he would return Mr. Bennet's
visit, and determining when they should ask him to dinner.



Chapter 3
Not all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her five daughters, could ask on
the subject, was sufficient to draw from her husband any satisfactory description of Mr.
Bingley. They attacked him in various ways—with barefaced questions, ingenious
suppositions, and distant surmises; but he eluded the skill of them all, and they were at last
obliged to accept the second-hand intelligence of their neighbour, Lady Lucas. Her report
was highly favourable. Sir William had been delighted with him. He was quite young,
wonderfully handsome, extremely agreeable, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the
next assembly with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful! To be fond of dancing
was a certain step towards falling in love; and very lively hopes of Mr. Bingley's heart were
entertained.
"If I can but see one of my daughters happily settled at Netherfield," said Mrs. Bennet to
her husband, "and all the others equally well married, I shall have nothing to wish for."
In a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Bennet's visit, and sat about ten minutes with him
in his library. He had entertained hopes of being admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of
whose beauty he had heard much; but he saw only the father. The ladies were somewhat
more fortunate, for they had the advantage of ascertaining from an upper window that he
wore a blue coat, and rode a black horse.
An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards dispatched; and already had Mrs. Bennet
planned the courses that were to do credit to her housekeeping, when an answer arrived
which deferred it all. Mr. Bingley was obliged to be in town the following day, and,
consequently, unable to accept the honour of their invitation, etc. Mrs. Bennet was quite
disconcerted. She could not imagine what business he could have in town so soon after his
arrival in Hertfordshire; and she began to fear that he might be always flying about from
one place to another, and never settled at Netherfield as he ought to be. Lady Lucas quieted
her fears a little by starting the idea of his being gone to London only to get a large party for
the ball; and a report soon followed that Mr. Bingley was to bring twelve ladies and seven
gentlemen with him to the assembly. The girls grieved over such a number of ladies, but
were comforted the day before the ball by hearing, that instead of twelve he brought only
six with him from London—his five sisters and a cousin. And when the party entered the
assembly room it consisted of only five altogether—Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the
husband of the eldest, and another young man.
Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant countenance, and
easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine women, with an air of decided fashion. His
brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr. Darcy soon
drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien, and
the report which was in general circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of his
having ten thousand a year. The gentlemen pronounced him to be a fine figure of a man, the
ladies declared he was much handsomer than Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at with great
admiration for about half the evening, till his manners gave a disgust which turned the tide
of his popularity; for he was discovered to be proud; to be above his company, and above
being pleased; and not all his large estate in Derbyshire could then save him from having a
most forbidding, disagreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be compared with his
friend.
Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the principal people in the room;
he was lively and unreserved, danced every dance, was angry that the ball closed so early,
and talked of giving one himself at Netherfield. Such amiable qualities must speak for
themselves. What a contrast between him and his friend! Mr. Darcy danced only once with
Mrs. Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being introduced to any other lady, and
spent the rest of the evening in walking about the room, speaking occasionally to one of his
own party. His character was decided. He was the proudest, most disagreeable man in the
world, and everybody hoped that he would never come there again. Amongst the most
violent against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of his general behaviour was sharpened
into particular resentment by his having slighted one of her daughters.
Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen, to sit down for two
dances; and during part of that time, Mr. Darcy had been standing near enough for her to
hear a conversation between him and Mr. Bingley, who came from the dance for a few
minutes, to press his friend to join it.
"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by
yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance."
"I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with
my partner. At such an assembly as this it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged,
and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to
stand up with."
"I would not be so fastidious as you are," cried Mr. Bingley, "for a kingdom! Upon my
honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there
are several of them you see uncommonly pretty."
"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," said Mr. Darcy, looking at
the eldest Miss Bennet.
"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters
sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me
ask my partner to introduce you."
"Which do you mean?" and turning round he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till
catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said: "She is tolerable, but not handsome
enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who
are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for
you are wasting your time with me."
Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth remained with no
very cordial feelings toward him. She told the story, however, with great spirit among her
friends; for she had a lively, playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous.
The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole family. Mrs. Bennet had seen
her eldest daughter much admired by the Netherfield party. Mr. Bingley had danced with
her twice, and she had been distinguished by his sisters. Jane was as much gratified by this
as her mother could be, though in a quieter way. Elizabeth felt Jane's pleasure. Mary had
heard herself mentioned to Miss Bingley as the most accomplished girl in the
neighbourhood; and Catherine and Lydia had been fortunate enough never to be without
partners, which was all that they had yet learnt to care for at a ball. They returned, therefore,
in good spirits to Longbourn, the village where they lived, and of which they were the
principal inhabitants. They found Mr. Bennet still up. With a book he was regardless of
time; and on the present occasion he had a good deal of curiosity as to the event of an
evening which had raised such splendid expectations. He had rather hoped that his wife's
views on the stranger would be disappointed; but he soon found out that he had a different
story to hear.
"Oh! my dear Mr. Bennet," as she entered the room, "we have had a most delightful
evening, a most excellent ball. I wish you had been there. Jane was so admired, nothing
could be like it. Everybody said how well she looked; and Mr. Bingley thought her quite
beautiful, and danced with her twice! Only think of that, my dear; he actually danced with
her twice! and she was the only creature in the room that he asked a second time. First of
all, he asked Miss Lucas. I was so vexed to see him stand up with her! But, however, he did
not admire her at all; indeed, nobody can, you know; and he seemed quite struck with Jane
as she was going down the dance. So he inquired who she was, and got introduced, and
asked her for the two next. Then the two third he danced with Miss King, and the two fourth
with Maria Lucas, and the two fifth with Jane again, and the two sixth with Lizzy, and the
Boulanger—"
"If he had had any compassion for me," cried her husband impatiently, "he would not
have danced half so much! For God's sake, say no more of his partners. Oh that he had
sprained his ankle in the first dance!"
"Oh! my dear, I am quite delighted with him. He is so excessively handsome! And his
sisters are charming women. I never in my life saw anything more elegant than their
dresses. I dare say the lace upon Mrs. Hurst's gown—"
Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against any description of finery.
She was therefore obliged to seek another branch of the subject, and related, with much
bitterness of spirit and some exaggeration, the shocking rudeness of Mr. Darcy.
"But I can assure you," she added, "that Lizzy does not lose much by not suiting his
fancy; for he is a most disagreeable, horrid man, not at all worth pleasing. So high and so
conceited that there was no enduring him! He walked here, and he walked there, fancying
himself so very great! Not handsome enough to dance with! I wish you had been there, my
dear, to have given him one of your set-downs. I quite detest the man."



Chapter 4
When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in her praise of
Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister just how very much she admired him.
"He is just what a young man ought to be," said she, "sensible, good-humoured, lively;
and I never saw such happy manners!—so much ease, with such perfect good breeding!"
"He is also handsome," replied Elizabeth, "which a young man ought likewise to be, if he
possibly can. His character is thereby complete."
"I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I did not expect such
a compliment."
"Did not you? I did for you. But that is one great difference between us. Compliments
always take you by surprise, and me never. What could be more natural than his asking you
again? He could not help seeing that you were about five times as pretty as every other
woman in the room. No thanks to his gallantry for that. Well, he certainly is very agreeable,
and I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider person."
"Dear Lizzy!"
"Oh! you are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in general. You never see a
fault in anybody. All the world are good and agreeable in your eyes. I never heard you
speak ill of a human being in your life."
"I would not wish to be hasty in censuring anyone; but I always speak what I think."
"I know you do; and it is that which makes the wonder. With your good sense, to be so
honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of others! Affectation of candour is common
enough—one meets with it everywhere. But to be candid without ostentation or design—to
take the good of everybody's character and make it still better, and say nothing of the bad—
belongs to you alone. And so you like this man's sisters, too, do you? Their manners are not
equal to his."
"Certainly not—at first. But they are very pleasing women when you converse with them.
Miss Bingley is to live with her brother, and keep his house; and I am much mistaken if we
shall not find a very charming neighbour in her."
Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced; their behaviour at the assembly had
not been calculated to please in general; and with more quickness of observation and less
pliancy of temper than her sister, and with a judgement too unassailed by any attention to
herself, she was very little disposed to approve them. They were in fact very fine ladies; not
deficient in good humour when they were pleased, nor in the power of making themselves
agreeable when they chose it, but proud and conceited. They were rather handsome, had
been educated in one of the first private seminaries in town, had a fortune of twenty
thousand pounds, were in the habit of spending more than they ought, and of associating
with people of rank, and were therefore in every respect entitled to think well of themselves,
and meanly of others. They were of a respectable family in the north of England; a
circumstance more deeply impressed on their memories than that their brother's fortune and
their own had been acquired by trade.
Mr. Bingley inherited property to the amount of nearly a hundred thousand pounds from
his father, who had intended to purchase an estate, but did not live to do it. Mr. Bingley
intended it likewise, and sometimes made choice of his county; but as he was now provided
with a good house and the liberty of a manor, it was doubtful to many of those who best
knew the easiness of his temper, whether he might not spend the remainder of his days at
Netherfield, and leave the next generation to purchase.
His sisters were anxious for his having an estate of his own; but, though he was now only
established as a tenant, Miss Bingley was by no means unwilling to preside at his table—
nor was Mrs. Hurst, who had married a man of more fashion than fortune, less disposed to
consider his house as her home when it suited her. Mr. Bingley had not been of age two
years, when he was tempted by an accidental recommendation to look at Netherfield House.
He did look at it, and into it for half-an-hour—was pleased with the situation and the
principal rooms, satisfied with what the owner said in its praise, and took it immediately.
Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in spite of great opposition of
character. Bingley was endeared to Darcy by the easiness, openness, and ductility of his
temper, though no disposition could offer a greater contrast to his own, and though with his
own he never appeared dissatisfied. On the strength of Darcy's regard, Bingley had the
firmest reliance, and of his judgement the highest opinion. In understanding, Darcy was the
superior. Bingley was by no means deficient, but Darcy was clever. He was at the same
time haughty, reserved, and fastidious, and his manners, though well-bred, were not
inviting. In that respect his friend had greatly the advantage. Bingley was sure of being
liked wherever he appeared, Darcy was continually giving offense.
The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was sufficiently characteristic.
Bingley had never met with more pleasant people or prettier girls in his life; everybody had
been most kind and attentive to him; there had been no formality, no stiffness; he had soon
felt acquainted with all the room; and, as to Miss Bennet, he could not conceive an angel
more beautiful. Darcy, on the contrary, had seen a collection of people in whom there was
little beauty and no fashion, for none of whom he had felt the smallest interest, and from
none received either attention or pleasure. Miss Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty, but
she smiled too much.
Mrs. Hurst and her sister allowed it to be so—but still they admired her and liked her, and
pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one whom they would not object to know more of.
Miss Bennet was therefore established as a sweet girl, and their brother felt authorized by
such commendation to think of her as he chose.



Chapter 5
Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the Bennets were
particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas had been formerly in trade in Meryton, where he
had made a tolerable fortune, and risen to the honour of knighthood by an address to the
king during his mayoralty. The distinction had perhaps been felt too strongly. It had given
him a disgust to his business, and to his residence in a small market town; and, in quitting
them both, he had removed with his family to a house about a mile from Meryton,
denominated from that period Lucas Lodge, where he could think with pleasure of his own
importance, and, unshackled by business, occupy himself solely in being civil to all the
world. For, though elated by his rank, it did not render him supercilious; on the contrary, he
was all attention to everybody. By nature inoffensive, friendly, and obliging, his
presentation at St. James's had made him courteous.
Lady Lucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a valuable neighbour to
Mrs. Bennet. They had several children. The eldest of them, a sensible, intelligent young
woman, about twenty-seven, was Elizabeth's intimate friend.
That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over a ball was
absolutely necessary; and the morning after the assembly brought the former to Longbourn
to hear and to communicate.
"You began the evening well, Charlotte," said Mrs. Bennet with civil self-command to
Miss Lucas. "You were Mr. Bingley's first choice."
"Yes; but he seemed to like his second better."
"Oh! you mean Jane, I suppose, because he danced with her twice. To be sure that did
seem as if he admired her—indeed I rather believe he did—I heard something about it—but
I hardly know what—something about Mr. Robinson."
"Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr. Robinson; did not I mention it
to you? Mr. Robinson's asking him how he liked our Meryton assemblies, and whether he
did not think there were a great many pretty women in the room, and which he thought the
prettiest? and his answering immediately to the last question: 'Oh! the eldest Miss Bennet,
beyond a doubt; there cannot be two opinions on that point.'"
"Upon my word! Well, that is very decided indeed—that does seem as if—but, however,
it may all come to nothing, you know."
"My overhearings were more to the purpose than yours, Eliza," said Charlotte. "Mr.
Darcy is not so well worth listening to as his friend, is he?—poor Eliza!—to be only just
tolerable."
"I beg you would not put it into Lizzy's head to be vexed by his ill-treatment, for he is
such a disagreeable man, that it would be quite a misfortune to be liked by him. Mrs. Long
told me last night that he sat close to her for half-an-hour without once opening his lips."
"Are you quite sure, ma'am?—is not there a little mistake?" said Jane. "I certainly saw
Mr. Darcy speaking to her."
"Aye—because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and he could not help
answering her; but she said he seemed quite angry at being spoke to."
"Miss Bingley told me," said Jane, "that he never speaks much, unless among his
intimate acquaintances. With them he is remarkably agreeable."
"I do not believe a word of it, my dear. If he had been so very agreeable, he would have
talked to Mrs. Long. But I can guess how it was; everybody says that he is eat up with
pride, and I dare say he had heard somehow that Mrs. Long does not keep a carriage, and
had come to the ball in a hack chaise."
"I do not mind his not talking to Mrs. Long," said Miss Lucas, "but I wish he had danced
with Eliza."
"Another time, Lizzy," said her mother, "I would not dance with him, if I were you."
"I believe, ma'am, I may safely promise you never to dance with him."
"His pride," said Miss Lucas, "does not offend me so much as pride often does, because
there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so very fine a young man, with family,
fortune, everything in his favour, should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he
has a right to be proud."
"That is very true," replied Elizabeth, "and I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not
mortified mine."
"Pride," observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her reflections, "is a very
common failing, I believe. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very
common indeed; that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of
us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other,
real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used
synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our
opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us."
"If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy," cried a young Lucas, who came with his sisters, "I
should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of foxhounds, and drink a bottle of
wine a day."
"Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought," said Mrs. Bennet; "and if I
were to see you at it, I should take away your bottle directly."
The boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that she would, and the
argument ended only with the visit.



Chapter 6
The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. The visit was soon
returned in due form. Miss Bennet's pleasing manners grew on the goodwill of Mrs. Hurst
and Miss Bingley; and though the mother was found to be intolerable, and the younger
sisters not worth speaking to, a wish of being better acquainted with them was expressed
towards the two eldest. By Jane, this attention was received with the greatest pleasure, but
Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in their treatment of everybody, hardly excepting even
her sister, and could not like them; though their kindness to Jane, such as it was, had a value
as arising in all probability from the influence of their brother's admiration. It was generally
evident whenever they met, that he did admire her and to her it was equally evident that
Jane was yielding to the preference which she had begun to entertain for him from the first,
and was in a way to be very much in love; but she considered with pleasure that it was not
likely to be discovered by the world in general, since Jane united, with great strength of
feeling, a composure of temper and a uniform cheerfulness of manner which would guard
her from the suspicions of the impertinent. She mentioned this to her friend Miss Lucas.
"It may perhaps be pleasant," replied Charlotte, "to be able to impose on the public in
such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be so very guarded. If a woman conceals
her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing
him; and it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark. There
is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that it is not safe to leave any
to itself. We can all begin freely—a slight preference is natural enough; but there are very
few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. In nine cases
out of ten a women had better show more affection than she feels. Bingley likes your sister
undoubtedly; but he may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on."
"But she does help him on, as much as her nature will allow. If I can perceive her regard
for him, he must be a simpleton, indeed, not to discover it too."
"Remember, Eliza, that he does not know Jane's disposition as you do."
"But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavour to conceal it, he must find it
out."
"Perhaps he must, if he sees enough of her. But, though Bingley and Jane meet tolerably
often, it is never for many hours together; and, as they always see each other in large mixed
parties, it is impossible that every moment should be employed in conversing together. Jane
should therefore make the most of every half-hour in which she can command his attention.
When she is secure of him, there will be more leisure for falling in love as much as she
chooses."
"Your plan is a good one," replied Elizabeth, "where nothing is in question but the desire
of being well married, and if I were determined to get a rich husband, or any husband, I dare
say I should adopt it. But these are not Jane's feelings; she is not acting by design. As yet,
she cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard nor of its reasonableness. She
has known him only a fortnight. She danced four dances with him at Meryton; she saw him
one morning at his own house, and has since dined with him in company four times. This is
not quite enough to make her understand his character."
"Not as you represent it. Had she merely dined with him, she might only have discovered
whether he had a good appetite; but you must remember that four evenings have also been
spent together—and four evenings may do a great deal."
"Yes; these four evenings have enabled them to ascertain that they both like Vingt-un
better than Commerce; but with respect to any other leading characteristic, I do not imagine
that much has been unfolded."
"Well," said Charlotte, "I wish Jane success with all my heart; and if she were married to
him to-morrow, I should think she had as good a chance of happiness as if she were to be
studying his character for a twelvemonth. Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of
chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other or ever so
similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always continue to
grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know
as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life."
"You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound. You know it is not sound, and that
you would never act in this way yourself."
Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions to her sister, Elizabeth was far from
suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some interest in the eyes of his friend.
Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her without
admiration at the ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no
sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she hardly had a good feature in
her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful
expression of her dark eyes. To this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying.
Though he had detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry in her
form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and pleasing; and in spite of his
asserting that her manners were not those of the fashionable world, he was caught by their
easy playfulness. Of this she was perfectly unaware; to her he was only the man who made
himself agreeable nowhere, and who had not thought her handsome enough to dance with.
He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards conversing with her
himself, attended to her conversation with others. His doing so drew her notice. It was at Sir
William Lucas's, where a large party were assembled.
"What does Mr. Darcy mean," said she to Charlotte, "by listening to my conversation
with Colonel Forster?"
"That is a question which Mr. Darcy only can answer."
"But if he does it any more I shall certainly let him know that I see what he is about. He
has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow
afraid of him."
On his approaching them soon afterwards, though without seeming to have any intention
of speaking, Miss Lucas defied her friend to mention such a subject to him; which
immediately provoking Elizabeth to do it, she turned to him and said:
"Did you not think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when
I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?"
"With great energy; but it is always a subject which makes a lady energetic."
"You are severe on us."
"It will be her turn soon to be teased," said Miss Lucas. "I am going to open the
instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows."
"You are a very strange creature by way of a friend!—always wanting me to play and
sing before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have
been invaluable; but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in
the habit of hearing the very best performers." On Miss Lucas's persevering, however, she
added, "Very well, if it must be so, it must." And gravely glancing at Mr. Darcy, "There is a
fine old saying, which everybody here is of course familiar with: 'Keep your breath to cool
your porridge'; and I shall keep mine to swell my song."
Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital. After a song or two, and
before she could reply to the entreaties of several that she would sing again, she was eagerly
succeeded at the instrument by her sister Mary, who having, in consequence of being the
only plain one in the family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was always
impatient for display.
Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her application, it had
given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited manner, which would have injured a higher
degree of excellence than she had reached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected, had been
listened to with much more pleasure, though not playing half so well; and Mary, at the end
of a long concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude by Scotch and Irish airs, at the
request of her younger sisters, who, with some of the Lucases, and two or three officers,
joined eagerly in dancing at one end of the room.
Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at such a mode of passing the evening, to
the exclusion of all conversation, and was too much engrossed by his thoughts to perceive
that Sir William Lucas was his neighbour, till Sir William thus began:
"What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothing like
dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished society."
"Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished
societies of the world. Every savage can dance."
Sir William only smiled. "Your friend performs delightfully," he continued after a pause,
on seeing Bingley join the group; "and I doubt not that you are an adept in the science
yourself, Mr. Darcy."
"You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, sir."
"Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. Do you often dance
at St. James's?"
"Never, sir."
"Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?"
"It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it."
"You have a house in town, I conclude?"
Mr. Darcy bowed.
"I had once had some thought of fixing in town myself—for I am fond of superior
society; but I did not feel quite certain that the air of London would agree with Lady
Lucas."
He paused in hopes of an answer; but his companion was not disposed to make any; and
Elizabeth at that instant moving towards them, he was struck with the action of doing a very
gallant thing, and called out to her:
"My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present
this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure
when so much beauty is before you." And, taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr.
Darcy who, though extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantly
drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William:
"Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I
moved this way in order to beg for a partner."
Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the honour of her hand, but in
vain. Elizabeth was determined; nor did Sir William at all shake her purpose by his attempt
at persuasion.
"You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of
seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no
objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half-hour."
"Mr. Darcy is all politeness," said Elizabeth, smiling.
"He is, indeed; but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder
at his complaisance—for who would object to such a partner?"
Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away. Her resistance had not injured her with the
gentleman, and he was thinking of her with some complacency, when thus accosted by Miss
Bingley:
"I can guess the subject of your reverie."
"I should imagine not."
"You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this
manner—in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more
annoyed! The insipidity, and yet the noise—the nothingness, and yet the self-importance of
all those people! What would I give to hear your strictures on them!"
"Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I
have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a
pretty woman can bestow."
Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he would tell her what
lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections. Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepidity:
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet!" repeated Miss Bingley. "I am all astonishment. How long has
she been such a favourite?—and pray, when am I to wish you joy?"
"That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady's imagination is very
rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you
would be wishing me joy."
"Nay, if you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter is absolutely settled. You will
be having a charming mother-in-law, indeed; and, of course, she will always be at
Pemberley with you."
He listened to her with perfect indifference while she chose to entertain herself in this
manner; and as his composure convinced her that all was safe, her wit flowed long.



Chapter 7
Mr. Bennet's property consisted almost entirely in an estate of two thousand a year,
which, unfortunately for his daughters, was entailed, in default of heirs male, on a distant
relation; and their mother's fortune, though ample for her situation in life, could but ill
supply the deficiency of his. Her father had been an attorney in Meryton, and had left her
four thousand pounds.
She had a sister married to a Mr. Phillips, who had been a clerk to their father and
succeeded him in the business, and a brother settled in London in a respectable line of trade.
The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a most convenient distance
for the young ladies, who were usually tempted thither three or four times a week, to pay
their duty to their aunt and to a milliner's shop just over the way. The two youngest of the
family, Catherine and Lydia, were particularly frequent in these attentions; their minds were
more vacant than their sisters', and when nothing better offered, a walk to Meryton was
necessary to amuse their morning hours and furnish conversation for the evening; and
however bare of news the country in general might be, they always contrived to learn some
from their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both with news and happiness
by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the neighbourhood; it was to remain the whole
winter, and Meryton was the headquarters.
Their visits to Mrs. Phillips were now productive of the most interesting intelligence.
Every day added something to their knowledge of the officers' names and connections.
Their lodgings were not long a secret, and at length they began to know the officers
themselves. Mr. Phillips visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a store of felicity
unknown before. They could talk of nothing but officers; and Mr. Bingley's large fortune,
the mention of which gave animation to their mother, was worthless in their eyes when
opposed to the regimentals of an ensign.
After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Mr. Bennet coolly
observed:
"From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be two of the silliest
girls in the country. I have suspected it some time, but I am now convinced."
Catherine was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Lydia, with perfect indifference,
continued to express her admiration of Captain Carter, and her hope of seeing him in the
course of the day, as he was going the next morning to London.
"I am astonished, my dear," said Mrs. Bennet, "that you should be so ready to think your
own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly of anybody's children, it should not be of
my own, however."
"If my children are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it."
"Yes—but as it happens, they are all of them very clever."
"This is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not agree. I had hoped that our
sentiments coincided in every particular, but I must so far differ from you as to think our
two youngest daughters uncommonly foolish."
"My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect such girls to have the sense of their father and
mother. When they get to our age, I dare say they will not think about officers any more
than we do. I remember the time when I liked a red coat myself very well—and, indeed, so I
do still at my heart; and if a smart young colonel, with five or six thousand a year, should
want one of my girls I shall not say nay to him; and I thought Colonel Forster looked very
becoming the other night at Sir William's in his regimentals."
"Mamma," cried Lydia, "my aunt says that Colonel Forster and Captain Carter do not go
so often to Miss Watson's as they did when they first came; she sees them now very often
standing in Clarke's library."
Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by the entrance of the footman with a note for Miss
Bennet; it came from Netherfield, and the servant waited for an answer. Mrs. Bennet's eyes
sparkled with pleasure, and she was eagerly calling out, while her daughter read,
"Well, Jane, who is it from? What is it about? What does he say? Well, Jane, make haste
and tell us; make haste, my love."
"It is from Miss Bingley," said Jane, and then read it aloud.
"MY DEAR FRIEND,—
"If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa and me, we shall be in
danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, for a whole day's tete-a-tete between
two women can never end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can on receipt of this.
My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers.—Yours ever,
"CAROLINE BINGLEY"
"With the officers!" cried Lydia. "I wonder my aunt did not tell us of that."
"Dining out," said Mrs. Bennet, "that is very unlucky."
"Can I have the carriage?" said Jane.
"No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems likely to rain; and then
you must stay all night."
"That would be a good scheme," said Elizabeth, "if you were sure that they would not
offer to send her home."
"Oh! but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley's chaise to go to Meryton, and the Hursts
have no horses to theirs."
"I had much rather go in the coach."
"But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, I am sure. They are wanted in the
farm, Mr. Bennet, are they not?"
"They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get them."
"But if you have got them to-day," said Elizabeth, "my mother's purpose will be
answered."
She did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment that the horses were engaged.
Jane was therefore obliged to go on horseback, and her mother attended her to the door with
many cheerful prognostics of a bad day. Her hopes were answered; Jane had not been gone
long before it rained hard. Her sisters were uneasy for her, but her mother was delighted.
The rain continued the whole evening without intermission; Jane certainly could not come
back.
"This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!" said Mrs. Bennet more than once, as if the
credit of making it rain were all her own. Till the next morning, however, she was not aware
of all the felicity of her contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from
Netherfield brought the following note for Elizabeth:
"MY DEAREST LIZZY,—
"I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be imputed to my getting
wet through yesterday. My kind friends will not hear of my returning till I am better. They
insist also on my seeing Mr. Jones—therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear of his
having been to me—and, excepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much the matter
with me.—Yours, etc."
"Well, my dear," said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note aloud, "if your
daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness—if she should die, it would be a comfort to
know that it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and under your orders."
"Oh! I am not afraid of her dying. People do not die of little trifling colds. She will be
taken good care of. As long as she stays there, it is all very well. I would go and see her if I
could have the carriage."
Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her, though the carriage was
not to be had; and as she was no horsewoman, walking was her only alternative. She
declared her resolution.
"How can you be so silly," cried her mother, "as to think of such a thing, in all this dirt!
You will not be fit to be seen when you get there."
"I shall be very fit to see Jane—which is all I want."
"Is this a hint to me, Lizzy," said her father, "to send for the horses?"
"No, indeed, I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is nothing when one has a
motive; only three miles. I shall be back by dinner."
"I admire the activity of your benevolence," observed Mary, "but every impulse of
feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion, exertion should always be in
proportion to what is required."
"We will go as far as Meryton with you," said Catherine and Lydia. Elizabeth accepted
their company, and the three young ladies set off together.
"If we make haste," said Lydia, as they walked along, "perhaps we may see something of
Captain Carter before he goes."
In Meryton they parted; the two youngest repaired to the lodgings of one of the officers'
wives, and Elizabeth continued her walk alone, crossing field after field at a quick pace,
jumping over stiles and springing over puddles with impatient activity, and finding herself
at last within view of the house, with weary ankles, dirty stockings, and a face glowing with
the warmth of exercise.
She was shown into the breakfast-parlour, where all but Jane were assembled, and where
her appearance created a great deal of surprise. That she should have walked three miles so
early in the day, in such dirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to Mrs. Hurst
and Miss Bingley; and Elizabeth was convinced that they held her in contempt for it. She
was received, however, very politely by them; and in their brother's manners there was
something better than politeness; there was good humour and kindness. Mr. Darcy said very
little, and Mr. Hurst nothing at all. The former was divided between admiration of the
brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion, and doubt as to the occasion's
justifying her coming so far alone. The latter was thinking only of his breakfast.
Her inquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered. Miss Bennet had slept
ill, and though up, was very feverish, and not well enough to leave her room. Elizabeth was
glad to be taken to her immediately; and Jane, who had only been withheld by the fear of
giving alarm or inconvenience from expressing in her note how much she longed for such a
visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was not equal, however, to much conversation, and
when Miss Bingley left them together, could attempt little besides expressions of gratitude
for the extraordinary kindness she was treated with. Elizabeth silently attended her.
When breakfast was over they were joined by the sisters; and Elizabeth began to like
them herself, when she saw how much affection and solicitude they showed for Jane. The
apothecary came, and having examined his patient, said, as might be supposed, that she had
caught a violent cold, and that they must endeavour to get the better of it; advised her to
return to bed, and promised her some draughts. The advice was followed readily, for the
feverish symptoms increased, and her head ached acutely. Elizabeth did not quit her room
for a moment; nor were the other ladies often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had, in
fact, nothing to do elsewhere.
When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that she must go, and very unwillingly said so.
Miss Bingley offered her the carriage, and she only wanted a little pressing to accept it,
when Jane testified such concern in parting with her, that Miss Bingley was obliged to
convert the offer of the chaise to an invitation to remain at Netherfield for the present.
Elizabeth most thankfully consented, and a servant was dispatched to Longbourn to
acquaint the family with her stay and bring back a supply of clothes.



Chapter 8
At five o'clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half-past six Elizabeth was
summoned to dinner. To the civil inquiries which then poured in, and amongst which she
had the pleasure of distinguishing the much superior solicitude of Mr. Bingley's, she could
not make a very favourable answer. Jane was by no means better. The sisters, on hearing
this, repeated three or four times how much they were grieved, how shocking it was to have
a bad cold, and how excessively they disliked being ill themselves; and then thought no
more of the matter: and their indifference towards Jane when not immediately before them
restored Elizabeth to the enjoyment of all her former dislike.
Their brother, indeed, was the only one of the party whom she could regard with any
complacency. His anxiety for Jane was evident, and his attentions to herself most pleasing,
and they prevented her feeling herself so much an intruder as she believed she was
considered by the others. She had very little notice from any but him. Miss Bingley was
engrossed by Mr. Darcy, her sister scarcely less so; and as for Mr. Hurst, by whom
Elizabeth sat, he was an indolent man, who lived only to eat, drink, and play at cards; who,
when he found her to prefer a plain dish to a ragout, had nothing to say to her.
When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss Bingley began abusing her
as soon as she was out of the room. Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a
mixture of pride and impertinence; she had no conversation, no style, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst
thought the same, and added:
"She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never
forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild."
"She did, indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very nonsensical to come
at all! Why must she be scampering about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her
hair, so untidy, so blowsy!"
"Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am
absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it not doing its office."
"Your picture may be very exact, Louisa," said Bingley; "but this was all lost upon me. I
thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she came into the room this
morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice."
"You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure," said Miss Bingley; "and I am inclined to think
that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition."
"Certainly not."
"To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in
dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an
abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum."
"It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing," said Bingley.
"I am afraid, Mr. Darcy," observed Miss Bingley in a half whisper, "that this adventure
has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes."
"Not at all," he replied; "they were brightened by the exercise." A short pause followed
this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again:
"I have an excessive regard for Miss Jane Bennet, she is really a very sweet girl, and I
wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such a father and mother, and such
low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it."
"I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney in Meryton."
"Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside."
"That is capital," added her sister, and they both laughed heartily.
"If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside," cried Bingley, "it would not make them
one jot less agreeable."
"But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in
the world," replied Darcy.
To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisters gave it their hearty assent, and
indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of their dear friend's vulgar relations.
With a renewal of tenderness, however, they returned to her room on leaving the dining-
parlour, and sat with her till summoned to coffee. She was still very poorly, and Elizabeth
would not quit her at all, till late in the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her
sleep, and when it seemed to her rather right than pleasant that she should go downstairs
herself. On entering the drawing-room she found the whole party at loo, and was
immediately invited to join them; but suspecting them to be playing high she declined it,
and making her sister the excuse, said she would amuse herself for the short time she could
stay below, with a book. Mr. Hurst looked at her with astonishment.
"Do you prefer reading to cards?" said he; "that is rather singular."
"Miss Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, "despises cards. She is a great reader, and has no
pleasure in anything else."
"I deserve neither such praise nor such censure," cried Elizabeth; "I am not a great reader,
and I have pleasure in many things."
"In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure," said Bingley; "and I hope it will be
soon increased by seeing her quite well."
Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards the table where a few
books were lying. He immediately offered to fetch her others—all that his library afforded.
"And I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own credit; but I am an
idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have more than I ever looked into."
Elizabeth assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with those in the room.
"I am astonished," said Miss Bingley, "that my father should have left so small a
collection of books. What a delightful library you have at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!"
"It ought to be good," he replied, "it has been the work of many generations."
"And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying books."
"I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these."
"Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of that noble place.
Charles, when you build your house, I wish it may be half as delightful as Pemberley."
"I wish it may."
"But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that neighbourhood, and take
Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a finer county in England than Derbyshire."
"With all my heart; I will buy Pemberley itself if Darcy will sell it."
"I am talking of possibilities, Charles."
"Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get Pemberley by purchase
than by imitation."
Elizabeth was so much caught with what passed, as to leave her very little attention for
her book; and soon laying it wholly aside, she drew near the card-table, and stationed
herself between Mr. Bingley and his eldest sister, to observe the game.
"Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?" said Miss Bingley; "will she be as tall as I
am?"
"I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet's height, or rather taller."
"How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such
a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accomplished for her age! Her
performance on the pianoforte is exquisite."
"It is amazing to me," said Bingley, "how young ladies can have patience to be so very
accomplished as they all are."
"All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?"
"Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely
know anyone who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for
the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished."
"Your list of the common extent of accomplishments," said Darcy, "has too much truth.
The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse
or covering a screen. But I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies
in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-doze