hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding—
certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of other
so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every
attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost,
is lost forever."
"THAT is a failing indeed!" cried Elizabeth. "Implacable resentment IS a shade in a character.
But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot LAUGH at it. You are safe from me."
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"There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil—a natural defect,
which not even the best education can overcome."
"And YOUR defect is to hate everybody."
"And yours," he replied with a smile, "is willfully to misunderstand them."
"Do let us have a little music," cried Miss Bingley, tired of a conversation in which she had no
share. "Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst?"
Her sister had not the smallest objection, and the pianoforte was opened; and Darcy, after a few
moments' recollection, was not sorry for it. He began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too
much attention.
Chapter 12
In consequence of an agreement between the sisters, Elizabeth wrote the next morning to their
mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent for them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet,
who had calculated on her daughters remaining at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which
would exactly finish Jane's week, could not bring herself to receive them with pleasure before.
Her answer, therefore, was not propitious, at least not to Elizabeth's wishes, for she was
impatient to get home. Mrs. Bennet sent them word that they could not possibly have the
carriage before Tuesday; and in her postscript it was added, that if Mr. Bingley and his sister
pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them very well. Against staying longer, however,
Elizabeth was positively resolved—nor did she much expect it would be asked; and fearful, on
the contrary, as being considered as intruding themselves needlessly long, she urged Jane to
borrow Mr. Bingley's carriage immediately, and at length it was settled that their original design
of leaving Netherfield that morning should be mentioned, and the request made.
The communication excited many professions of concern; and enough was said of wishing them
to stay at least till the following day to work on Jane; and till the morrow their going was
deferred. Miss Bingley was then sorry that she had proposed the delay, for her jealousy and
dislike of one sister much exceeded her affection for the other.
The master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were to go so soon, and repeatedly tried
to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be safe for her—that she was not enough recovered;
but Jane was firm where she felt herself to be right.
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To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence—Elizabeth had been at Netherfield long enough. She
attracted him more than he liked—and Miss Bingley was uncivil to HER, and more teasing than
usual to himself. He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration should
NOW escape him, nothing that could elevate her with the hope of influencing his felicity;
sensible that if such an idea had been suggested, his behaviour during the last day must have
material weight in confirming or crushing it. Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke ten words
to her through the whole of Saturday, and though they were at one time left by themselves for
half-an-hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her.
On Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to almost all, took place. Miss
Bingley's civility to Elizabeth increased at last very rapidly, as well as her affection for Jane; and
when they parted, after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give her to see her
either at Longbourn or Netherfield, and embracing her most tenderly, she even shook hands with
the former. Elizabeth took leave of the whole party in the liveliest of spirits.
They were not welcomed home very cordially by their mother. Mrs. Bennet wondered at their
coming, and thought them very wrong to give so much trouble, and was sure Jane would have
caught cold again. But their father, though very laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was really
glad to see them; he had felt their importance in the family circle. The evening conversation,
when they were all assembled, had lost much of its animation, and almost all its sense by the
absence of Jane and Elizabeth.
They found Mary, as usual, deep in the study of thorough-bass and human nature; and had some
extracts to admire, and some new observations of threadbare morality to listen to. Catherine and
Lydia had information for them of a different sort. Much had been done and much had been said
in the regiment since the preceding Wednesday; several of the officers had dined lately with their
uncle, a private had been flogged, and it had actually been hinted that colonel Foster was going
to be married.
Chapter 13
"I hope, my dear," said Mr. Bennet to his wife, as they were at breakfast the next morning, "that
you have ordered a good dinner to-day, because I have reason to expect an addition to our family
party."
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"Who do you mean, my dear? I know of nobody that is coming, I am sure, unless Charlotte
Lucas should happen to call in—and I hope MY dinners are good enough for her. I do not
believe she often sees such at home."
"The person of whom I speak is a gentleman, and a stranger."
Mrs. Bennet's eyes sparkled. "A gentleman and a stranger! It is Mr. Bingley, I am sure! Well, I
am sure I shall be extremely glad to see Mr. Bingley. But—good Lord! how unlucky! There is
not a bit of fish to be got to-day. Lydia, my love, ring the bell—I must speak to Hill this
moment."
"It is NOT Mr. Bingley," said her husband; "it is a person whom I never saw in the whole course
of my life."
This roused a general astonishment; and he had the pleasure of being eagerly questioned by his
wife and his five daughters at once.
After amusing himself some time with their curiosity, he thus explained:
"About a month ago I received this letter; and about a fortnight ago I answered it, for I thought it
a case of some delicacy, and requiring early attention. It is from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who,
when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases."
"Oh! my dear," cried his wife, "I cannot bear to hear that mentioned. Pray do not talk of that
odious man. I do think it is the hardest thing in the world, that your estate should be entailed
away from your own children; and I am sure, if I had been you, I should have tried long ago to