him again, put it out of her power to dance with others. In vain did she entreat him to stand up
with somebody else, and offer to introduce him to any young lady in the room. He assured her,
that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent to it; that his chief object was by delicate
attentions to recommend himself to her and that he should therefore make a point of remaining
close to her the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a project. She owed her greatest
relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who often joined them, and good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins's
conversation to herself.
She was at least free from the offense of Mr. Darcy's further notice; though often standing within
a very short distance of her, quite disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She felt it to
be the probable consequence of her allusions to Mr. Wickham, and rejoiced in it.
The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart, and, by a manoeuvre of Mrs.
Bennet, had to wait for their carriage a quarter of an hour after everybody else was gone, which
gave them time to see how heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst
and her sister scarcely opened their mouths, except to complain of fatigue, and were evidently
impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at
conversation, and by so doing threw a languor over the whole party, which was very little
relieved by the long speeches of Mr. Collins, who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and his
sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and politeness which had
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marked their behaviour to their guests. Darcy said nothing at all. Mr. Bennet, in equal silence,
was enjoying the scene. Mr. Bingley and Jane were standing together, a little detached from the
rest, and talked only to each other. Elizabeth preserved as steady a silence as either Mrs. Hurst or
Miss Bingley; and even Lydia was too much fatigued to utter more than the occasional
exclamation of "Lord, how tired I am!" accompanied by a violent yawn.
When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly civil in her hope of
seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn, and addressed herself especially to Mr. Bingley, to
assure him how happy he would make them by eating a family dinner with them at any time,
without the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful pleasure, and he readily
engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on her, after his return from London,
whither he was obliged to go the next day for a short time.
Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied, and quitted the house under the delightful persuasion that,
allowing for the necessary preparations of settlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes, she
should undoubtedly see her daughter settled at Netherfield in the course of three or four months.
Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins, she thought with equal certainty, and with
considerable, though not equal, pleasure. Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children;
and though the man and the match were quite good enough for HER, the worth of each was
eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.
Chapter 19
The next day opened a new scene at Longbourn. Mr. Collins made his declaration in form.
Having resolved to do it without loss of time, as his leave of absence extended only to the
following Saturday, and having no feelings of diffidence to make it distressing to himself even at
the moment, he set about it in a very orderly manner, with all the observances, which he
supposed a regular part of the business. On finding Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and one of the
younger girls together, soon after breakfast, he addressed the mother in these words:
"May I hope, madam, for your interest with your fair daughter Elizabeth, when I solicit for the
honour of a private audience with her in the course of this morning?"
Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, Mrs. Bennet answered instantly,
"Oh dear!—yes—certainly. I am sure Lizzy will be very happy—I am sure she can have no
objection. Come, Kitty, I want you upstairs." And, gathering her work together, she was
hastening away, when Elizabeth called out:
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"Dear madam, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Collins must excuse me. He can have
nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear. I am going away myself."
"No, no, nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you to stay where you are." And upon Elizabeth's seeming
really, with vexed and embarrassed looks, about to escape, she added: "Lizzy, I INSIST upon
your staying and hearing Mr. Collins."
Elizabeth would not oppose such an injunction—and a moment's consideration making her also
sensible that it would be wisest to get it over as soon and as quietly as possible, she sat down
again and tried to conceal, by incessant employment the feelings which were divided between
distress and diversion. Mrs. Bennet and Kitty walked off, and as soon as they were gone, Mr.
Collins began.
"Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so far from doing you any disservice,
rather adds to your other perfections. You would have been less amiable in my eyes had there
NOT been this little unwillingness; but allow me to assure you, that I have your respected
mother's permission for this address. You can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse, however
your natural delicacy may lead you to dissemble; my attentions have been too marked to be
mistaken. Almost as soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion of my future
life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this subject, perhaps it would be advisable
for me to state my reasons for marrying—and, moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the
design of selecting a wife, as I certainly did."
The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away with by his feelings,
made Elizabeth so near laughing, that she could not use the short pause he allowed in any
attempt to stop him further, and he continued:
"My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy
circumstances (like myself) to set the example of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am
convinced that it will add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly—which perhaps I ought to
have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble
lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me her
opinion (unasked too!) on this subject; and it was but the very Saturday night before I left
Hunsford—between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was arranging Miss de
Bourgh's footstool, that she said, 'Mr. Collins, you must marry. A clergyman like you must
marry. Choose properly, choose a gentlewoman for MY sake; and for your OWN, let her be an
active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a good