diff --git a/examples/wordcount/go.mod b/examples/wordcount/go.mod new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b1ba40a --- /dev/null +++ b/examples/wordcount/go.mod @@ -0,0 +1,10 @@ +module github.com/sourcegraph/conc/examples/shakespeare + +go 1.23.0 + +require github.com/sourcegraph/conc v0.3.0 + +require ( + go.uber.org/atomic v1.7.0 // indirect + go.uber.org/multierr v1.9.0 // indirect +) diff --git a/examples/wordcount/go.sum b/examples/wordcount/go.sum new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4a90dbc --- /dev/null +++ b/examples/wordcount/go.sum @@ -0,0 +1,17 @@ +github.com/davecgh/go-spew v1.1.0/go.mod h1:J7Y8YcW2NihsgmVo/mv3lAwl/skON4iLHjSsI+c5H38= +github.com/davecgh/go-spew v1.1.1 h1:vj9j/u1bqnvCEfJOwUhtlOARqs3+rkHYY13jYWTU97c= +github.com/davecgh/go-spew v1.1.1/go.mod h1:J7Y8YcW2NihsgmVo/mv3lAwl/skON4iLHjSsI+c5H38= +github.com/pmezard/go-difflib v1.0.0 h1:4DBwDE0NGyQoBHbLQYPwSUPoCMWR5BEzIk/f1lZbAQM= +github.com/pmezard/go-difflib v1.0.0/go.mod h1:iKH77koFhYxTK1pcRnkKkqfTogsbg7gZNVY4sRDYZ/4= +github.com/sourcegraph/conc v0.3.0 h1:OQTbbt6P72L20UqAkXXuLOj79LfEanQ+YQFNpLA9ySo= +github.com/sourcegraph/conc v0.3.0/go.mod h1:Sdozi7LEKbFPqYX2/J+iBAM6HpqSLTASQIKqDmF7Mt0= +github.com/stretchr/objx v0.1.0/go.mod h1:HFkY916IF+rwdDfMAkV7OtwuqBVzrE8GR6GFx+wExME= +github.com/stretchr/testify v1.3.0/go.mod h1:M5WIy9Dh21IEIfnGCwXGc5bZfKNJtfHm1UVUgZn+9EI= +github.com/stretchr/testify v1.8.1 h1:w7B6lhMri9wdJUVmEZPGGhZzrYTPvgJArz7wNPgYKsk= +github.com/stretchr/testify v1.8.1/go.mod h1:w2LPCIKwWwSfY2zedu0+kehJoqGctiVI29o6fzry7u4= +go.uber.org/atomic v1.7.0 h1:ADUqmZGgLDDfbSL9ZmPxKTybcoEYHgpYfELNoN+7hsw= +go.uber.org/atomic v1.7.0/go.mod h1:fEN4uk6kAWBTFdckzkM89CLk9XfWZrxpCo0nPH17wJc= +go.uber.org/multierr v1.9.0 h1:7fIwc/ZtS0q++VgcfqFDxSBZVv/Xo49/SYnDFupUwlI= +go.uber.org/multierr v1.9.0/go.mod h1:X2jQV1h+kxSjClGpnseKVIxpmcjrj7MNnI0bnlfKTVQ= +gopkg.in/yaml.v3 v3.0.1 h1:fxVm/GzAzEWqLHuvctI91KS9hhNmmWOoWu0XTYJS7CA= +gopkg.in/yaml.v3 v3.0.1/go.mod h1:K4uyk7z7BCEPqu6E+C64Yfv1cQ7kz7rIZviUmN+EgEM= diff --git a/examples/wordcount/wordcount.go b/examples/wordcount/wordcount.go new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fa7c33c --- /dev/null +++ b/examples/wordcount/wordcount.go @@ -0,0 +1,102 @@ +package main + +import ( + "bytes" + "fmt" + "io" + "log" + "log/slog" + "os" + "path/filepath" + "sync" + "time" + + "github.com/sourcegraph/conc/iter" + "github.com/sourcegraph/conc/pool" + "github.com/sourcegraph/conc/stream" +) + +func main() { + start := time.Now() + files, err := os.ReadDir("./works") + if err != nil { + log.Fatalf("Error reading dir: %v", err) + } + maxGoRoutines := 3 + + p := pool.NewWithResults[workWordCounts]().WithMaxGoroutines(maxGoRoutines).WithErrors() + for _, dirEntry := range files { + p.Go(func() (workWordCounts, error) { + workStart := time.Now() + f, err := os.Open(filepath.Join("./works", dirEntry.Name())) + if err != nil { + return nil, fmt.Errorf("error opening file: %w", err) + } + wc, err := countWords(f) + slog.Info("Done counting words", "work", dirEntry.Name(), "duration", time.Since(workStart)) + return wc, err + }) + } + allWordCounts, err := p.Wait() + if err != nil { + slog.Error("error generating word counts", "err", err) + } + + totalWordCounts := make(workWordCounts) + s := stream.New().WithMaxGoroutines(maxGoRoutines) + for _, wwc := range allWordCounts { + s.Go(func() stream.Callback { + comWord, comCount := wwc.mostCommonWord() + slog.Info("unique", "words", len(wwc), "mostCommonWord", comWord, "mostCommonCount", comCount) + return func() { + totalWordCounts.add(wwc) + } + }) + } + s.Wait() + totalCommonWord, totalCommonCount := totalWordCounts.mostCommonWord() + slog.Info("Done with all word counts", + "in", time.Since(start), + "totalUniqueWords", len(totalWordCounts), + "mostCommonWord", totalCommonWord, + "mostCommonCount", totalCommonCount) +} + +func countWords(in io.ReadCloser) (workWordCounts, error) { + defer in.Close() + inputBytes, err := io.ReadAll(in) + if err != nil { + return nil, err + } + splits := bytes.Fields(inputBytes) + result := make(workWordCounts) + mu := &sync.Mutex{} + iter.ForEach(splits, func(i *[]byte) { + mu.Lock() + defer mu.Unlock() + result[string(*i)]++ + }) + + return result, nil +} + +type workWordCounts map[string]int + +func (wwc workWordCounts) mostCommonWord() (string, int) { + word := "" + count := -1 + + for candidateWord, candiateCount := range wwc { + if candiateCount > count { + word = candidateWord + count = candiateCount + } + } + return word, count +} + +func (wwc workWordCounts) add(other workWordCounts) { + for word, count := range other { + wwc[word] = wwc[word] + count + } +} diff --git a/examples/wordcount/works/emma.txt b/examples/wordcount/works/emma.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..695ea26 --- /dev/null +++ b/examples/wordcount/works/emma.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16633 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Emma, by Jane Austen + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Emma + +Author: Jane Austen + +Release Date: August, 1994 [Etext #158] +Posting Date: January 21, 2010 +Last Updated: March 10, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EMMA *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + + + + + +EMMA + +By Jane Austen + + + + +VOLUME I + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home +and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of +existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very +little to distress or vex her. + +She was the youngest of the two daughters of a most affectionate, +indulgent father; and had, in consequence of her sister's marriage, been +mistress of his house from a very early period. Her mother had died +too long ago for her to have more than an indistinct remembrance of +her caresses; and her place had been supplied by an excellent woman as +governess, who had fallen little short of a mother in affection. + +Sixteen years had Miss Taylor been in Mr. Woodhouse's family, less as a +governess than a friend, very fond of both daughters, but particularly +of Emma. Between _them_ it was more the intimacy of sisters. Even before +Miss Taylor had ceased to hold the nominal office of governess, the +mildness of her temper had hardly allowed her to impose any restraint; +and the shadow of authority being now long passed away, they had been +living together as friend and friend very mutually attached, and Emma +doing just what she liked; highly esteeming Miss Taylor's judgment, but +directed chiefly by her own. + +The real evils, indeed, of Emma's situation were the power of having +rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too +well of herself; these were the disadvantages which threatened alloy to +her many enjoyments. The danger, however, was at present so unperceived, +that they did not by any means rank as misfortunes with her. + +Sorrow came--a gentle sorrow--but not at all in the shape of any +disagreeable consciousness.--Miss Taylor married. It was Miss Taylor's +loss which first brought grief. It was on the wedding-day of this +beloved friend that Emma first sat in mournful thought of any +continuance. The wedding over, and the bride-people gone, her father and +herself were left to dine together, with no prospect of a third to cheer +a long evening. Her father composed himself to sleep after dinner, as +usual, and she had then only to sit and think of what she had lost. + +The event had every promise of happiness for her friend. Mr. Weston +was a man of unexceptionable character, easy fortune, suitable age, and +pleasant manners; and there was some satisfaction in considering +with what self-denying, generous friendship she had always wished and +promoted the match; but it was a black morning's work for her. The want +of Miss Taylor would be felt every hour of every day. She recalled her +past kindness--the kindness, the affection of sixteen years--how she had +taught and how she had played with her from five years old--how she had +devoted all her powers to attach and amuse her in health--and how +nursed her through the various illnesses of childhood. A large debt of +gratitude was owing here; but the intercourse of the last seven +years, the equal footing and perfect unreserve which had soon followed +Isabella's marriage, on their being left to each other, was yet a +dearer, tenderer recollection. She had been a friend and companion such +as few possessed: intelligent, well-informed, useful, gentle, knowing +all the ways of the family, interested in all its concerns, and +peculiarly interested in herself, in every pleasure, every scheme of +hers--one to whom she could speak every thought as it arose, and who had +such an affection for her as could never find fault. + +How was she to bear the change?--It was true that her friend was going +only half a mile from them; but Emma was aware that great must be the +difference between a Mrs. Weston, only half a mile from them, and a Miss +Taylor in the house; and with all her advantages, natural and domestic, +she was now in great danger of suffering from intellectual solitude. She +dearly loved her father, but he was no companion for her. He could not +meet her in conversation, rational or playful. + +The evil of the actual disparity in their ages (and Mr. Woodhouse had +not married early) was much increased by his constitution and habits; +for having been a valetudinarian all his life, without activity of +mind or body, he was a much older man in ways than in years; and though +everywhere beloved for the friendliness of his heart and his amiable +temper, his talents could not have recommended him at any time. + +Her sister, though comparatively but little removed by matrimony, being +settled in London, only sixteen miles off, was much beyond her daily +reach; and many a long October and November evening must be struggled +through at Hartfield, before Christmas brought the next visit from +Isabella and her husband, and their little children, to fill the house, +and give her pleasant society again. + +Highbury, the large and populous village, almost amounting to a town, +to which Hartfield, in spite of its separate lawn, and shrubberies, and +name, did really belong, afforded her no equals. The Woodhouses +were first in consequence there. All looked up to them. She had many +acquaintance in the place, for her father was universally civil, but +not one among them who could be accepted in lieu of Miss Taylor for even +half a day. It was a melancholy change; and Emma could not but sigh over +it, and wish for impossible things, till her father awoke, and made it +necessary to be cheerful. His spirits required support. He was a nervous +man, easily depressed; fond of every body that he was used to, and +hating to part with them; hating change of every kind. Matrimony, as the +origin of change, was always disagreeable; and he was by no means yet +reconciled to his own daughter's marrying, nor could ever speak of her +but with compassion, though it had been entirely a match of affection, +when he was now obliged to part with Miss Taylor too; and from his +habits of gentle selfishness, and of being never able to suppose that +other people could feel differently from himself, he was very much +disposed to think Miss Taylor had done as sad a thing for herself as for +them, and would have been a great deal happier if she had spent all the +rest of her life at Hartfield. Emma smiled and chatted as cheerfully +as she could, to keep him from such thoughts; but when tea came, it was +impossible for him not to say exactly as he had said at dinner, + +“Poor Miss Taylor!--I wish she were here again. What a pity it is that +Mr. Weston ever thought of her!” + +“I cannot agree with you, papa; you know I cannot. Mr. Weston is such +a good-humoured, pleasant, excellent man, that he thoroughly deserves +a good wife;--and you would not have had Miss Taylor live with us for +ever, and bear all my odd humours, when she might have a house of her +own?” + +“A house of her own!--But where is the advantage of a house of her own? +This is three times as large.--And you have never any odd humours, my +dear.” + +“How often we shall be going to see them, and they coming to see us!--We +shall be always meeting! _We_ must begin; we must go and pay wedding +visit very soon.” + +“My dear, how am I to get so far? Randalls is such a distance. I could +not walk half so far.” + +“No, papa, nobody thought of your walking. We must go in the carriage, +to be sure.” + +“The carriage! But James will not like to put the horses to for such a +little way;--and where are the poor horses to be while we are paying our +visit?” + +“They are to be put into Mr. Weston's stable, papa. You know we have +settled all that already. We talked it all over with Mr. Weston last +night. And as for James, you may be very sure he will always like going +to Randalls, because of his daughter's being housemaid there. I only +doubt whether he will ever take us anywhere else. That was your doing, +papa. You got Hannah that good place. Nobody thought of Hannah till you +mentioned her--James is so obliged to you!” + +“I am very glad I did think of her. It was very lucky, for I would not +have had poor James think himself slighted upon any account; and I am +sure she will make a very good servant: she is a civil, pretty-spoken +girl; I have a great opinion of her. Whenever I see her, she always +curtseys and asks me how I do, in a very pretty manner; and when you +have had her here to do needlework, I observe she always turns the lock +of the door the right way and never bangs it. I am sure she will be an +excellent servant; and it will be a great comfort to poor Miss Taylor +to have somebody about her that she is used to see. Whenever James goes +over to see his daughter, you know, she will be hearing of us. He will +be able to tell her how we all are.” + +Emma spared no exertions to maintain this happier flow of ideas, and +hoped, by the help of backgammon, to get her father tolerably +through the evening, and be attacked by no regrets but her own. The +backgammon-table was placed; but a visitor immediately afterwards walked +in and made it unnecessary. + +Mr. Knightley, a sensible man about seven or eight-and-thirty, was not +only a very old and intimate friend of the family, but particularly +connected with it, as the elder brother of Isabella's husband. He lived +about a mile from Highbury, was a frequent visitor, and always welcome, +and at this time more welcome than usual, as coming directly from their +mutual connexions in London. He had returned to a late dinner, after +some days' absence, and now walked up to Hartfield to say that all were +well in Brunswick Square. It was a happy circumstance, and animated +Mr. Woodhouse for some time. Mr. Knightley had a cheerful manner, which +always did him good; and his many inquiries after “poor Isabella” and +her children were answered most satisfactorily. When this was over, Mr. +Woodhouse gratefully observed, “It is very kind of you, Mr. Knightley, +to come out at this late hour to call upon us. I am afraid you must have +had a shocking walk.” + +“Not at all, sir. It is a beautiful moonlight night; and so mild that I +must draw back from your great fire.” + +“But you must have found it very damp and dirty. I wish you may not +catch cold.” + +“Dirty, sir! Look at my shoes. Not a speck on them.” + +“Well! that is quite surprising, for we have had a vast deal of rain +here. It rained dreadfully hard for half an hour while we were at +breakfast. I wanted them to put off the wedding.” + +“By the bye--I have not wished you joy. Being pretty well aware of what +sort of joy you must both be feeling, I have been in no hurry with my +congratulations; but I hope it all went off tolerably well. How did you +all behave? Who cried most?” + +“Ah! poor Miss Taylor! 'Tis a sad business.” + +“Poor Mr. and Miss Woodhouse, if you please; but I cannot possibly say +'poor Miss Taylor.' I have a great regard for you and Emma; but when it +comes to the question of dependence or independence!--At any rate, it +must be better to have only one to please than two.” + +“Especially when _one_ of those two is such a fanciful, troublesome +creature!” said Emma playfully. “That is what you have in your head, I +know--and what you would certainly say if my father were not by.” + +“I believe it is very true, my dear, indeed,” said Mr. Woodhouse, with a +sigh. “I am afraid I am sometimes very fanciful and troublesome.” + +“My dearest papa! You do not think I could mean _you_, or suppose Mr. +Knightley to mean _you_. What a horrible idea! Oh no! I meant only +myself. Mr. Knightley loves to find fault with me, you know--in a +joke--it is all a joke. We always say what we like to one another.” + +Mr. Knightley, in fact, was one of the few people who could see faults +in Emma Woodhouse, and the only one who ever told her of them: and +though this was not particularly agreeable to Emma herself, she knew +it would be so much less so to her father, that she would not have him +really suspect such a circumstance as her not being thought perfect by +every body. + +“Emma knows I never flatter her,” said Mr. Knightley, “but I meant no +reflection on any body. Miss Taylor has been used to have two persons +to please; she will now have but one. The chances are that she must be a +gainer.” + +“Well,” said Emma, willing to let it pass--“you want to hear about +the wedding; and I shall be happy to tell you, for we all behaved +charmingly. Every body was punctual, every body in their best looks: not +a tear, and hardly a long face to be seen. Oh no; we all felt that we +were going to be only half a mile apart, and were sure of meeting every +day.” + +“Dear Emma bears every thing so well,” said her father. “But, Mr. +Knightley, she is really very sorry to lose poor Miss Taylor, and I am +sure she _will_ miss her more than she thinks for.” + +Emma turned away her head, divided between tears and smiles. “It +is impossible that Emma should not miss such a companion,” said Mr. +Knightley. “We should not like her so well as we do, sir, if we could +suppose it; but she knows how much the marriage is to Miss Taylor's +advantage; she knows how very acceptable it must be, at Miss Taylor's +time of life, to be settled in a home of her own, and how important to +her to be secure of a comfortable provision, and therefore cannot allow +herself to feel so much pain as pleasure. Every friend of Miss Taylor +must be glad to have her so happily married.” + +“And you have forgotten one matter of joy to me,” said Emma, “and a very +considerable one--that I made the match myself. I made the match, you +know, four years ago; and to have it take place, and be proved in the +right, when so many people said Mr. Weston would never marry again, may +comfort me for any thing.” + +Mr. Knightley shook his head at her. Her father fondly replied, “Ah! +my dear, I wish you would not make matches and foretell things, for +whatever you say always comes to pass. Pray do not make any more +matches.” + +“I promise you to make none for myself, papa; but I must, indeed, for +other people. It is the greatest amusement in the world! And after such +success, you know!--Every body said that Mr. Weston would never marry +again. Oh dear, no! Mr. Weston, who had been a widower so long, and who +seemed so perfectly comfortable without a wife, so constantly occupied +either in his business in town or among his friends here, always +acceptable wherever he went, always cheerful--Mr. Weston need not spend +a single evening in the year alone if he did not like it. Oh no! Mr. +Weston certainly would never marry again. Some people even talked of a +promise to his wife on her deathbed, and others of the son and the +uncle not letting him. All manner of solemn nonsense was talked on the +subject, but I believed none of it. + +“Ever since the day--about four years ago--that Miss Taylor and I met +with him in Broadway Lane, when, because it began to drizzle, he darted +away with so much gallantry, and borrowed two umbrellas for us from +Farmer Mitchell's, I made up my mind on the subject. I planned the match +from that hour; and when such success has blessed me in this instance, +dear papa, you cannot think that I shall leave off match-making.” + +“I do not understand what you mean by 'success,'” said Mr. Knightley. +“Success supposes endeavour. Your time has been properly and delicately +spent, if you have been endeavouring for the last four years to bring +about this marriage. A worthy employment for a young lady's mind! But +if, which I rather imagine, your making the match, as you call it, means +only your planning it, your saying to yourself one idle day, 'I think it +would be a very good thing for Miss Taylor if Mr. Weston were to marry +her,' and saying it again to yourself every now and then afterwards, why +do you talk of success? Where is your merit? What are you proud of? You +made a lucky guess; and _that_ is all that can be said.” + +“And have you never known the pleasure and triumph of a lucky guess?--I +pity you.--I thought you cleverer--for, depend upon it a lucky guess is +never merely luck. There is always some talent in it. And as to my +poor word 'success,' which you quarrel with, I do not know that I am so +entirely without any claim to it. You have drawn two pretty pictures; +but I think there may be a third--a something between the do-nothing and +the do-all. If I had not promoted Mr. Weston's visits here, and given +many little encouragements, and smoothed many little matters, it might +not have come to any thing after all. I think you must know Hartfield +enough to comprehend that.” + +“A straightforward, open-hearted man like Weston, and a rational, +unaffected woman like Miss Taylor, may be safely left to manage their +own concerns. You are more likely to have done harm to yourself, than +good to them, by interference.” + +“Emma never thinks of herself, if she can do good to others,” rejoined +Mr. Woodhouse, understanding but in part. “But, my dear, pray do not +make any more matches; they are silly things, and break up one's family +circle grievously.” + +“Only one more, papa; only for Mr. Elton. Poor Mr. Elton! You like Mr. +Elton, papa,--I must look about for a wife for him. There is nobody in +Highbury who deserves him--and he has been here a whole year, and has +fitted up his house so comfortably, that it would be a shame to have him +single any longer--and I thought when he was joining their hands to-day, +he looked so very much as if he would like to have the same kind office +done for him! I think very well of Mr. Elton, and this is the only way I +have of doing him a service.” + +“Mr. Elton is a very pretty young man, to be sure, and a very good young +man, and I have a great regard for him. But if you want to shew him any +attention, my dear, ask him to come and dine with us some day. That will +be a much better thing. I dare say Mr. Knightley will be so kind as to +meet him.” + +“With a great deal of pleasure, sir, at any time,” said Mr. Knightley, +laughing, “and I agree with you entirely, that it will be a much better +thing. Invite him to dinner, Emma, and help him to the best of the fish +and the chicken, but leave him to chuse his own wife. Depend upon it, a +man of six or seven-and-twenty can take care of himself.” + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Mr. Weston was a native of Highbury, and born of a respectable family, +which for the last two or three generations had been rising into +gentility and property. He had received a good education, but, on +succeeding early in life to a small independence, had become indisposed +for any of the more homely pursuits in which his brothers were engaged, +and had satisfied an active, cheerful mind and social temper by entering +into the militia of his county, then embodied. + +Captain Weston was a general favourite; and when the chances of his +military life had introduced him to Miss Churchill, of a great Yorkshire +family, and Miss Churchill fell in love with him, nobody was surprized, +except her brother and his wife, who had never seen him, and who were +full of pride and importance, which the connexion would offend. + +Miss Churchill, however, being of age, and with the full command of her +fortune--though her fortune bore no proportion to the family-estate--was +not to be dissuaded from the marriage, and it took place, to the +infinite mortification of Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, who threw her off with +due decorum. It was an unsuitable connexion, and did not produce much +happiness. Mrs. Weston ought to have found more in it, for she had a +husband whose warm heart and sweet temper made him think every thing due +to her in return for the great goodness of being in love with him; +but though she had one sort of spirit, she had not the best. She had +resolution enough to pursue her own will in spite of her brother, +but not enough to refrain from unreasonable regrets at that brother's +unreasonable anger, nor from missing the luxuries of her former home. +They lived beyond their income, but still it was nothing in comparison +of Enscombe: she did not cease to love her husband, but she wanted at +once to be the wife of Captain Weston, and Miss Churchill of Enscombe. + +Captain Weston, who had been considered, especially by the Churchills, +as making such an amazing match, was proved to have much the worst of +the bargain; for when his wife died, after a three years' marriage, he +was rather a poorer man than at first, and with a child to maintain. +From the expense of the child, however, he was soon relieved. The boy +had, with the additional softening claim of a lingering illness of his +mother's, been the means of a sort of reconciliation; and Mr. and Mrs. +Churchill, having no children of their own, nor any other young creature +of equal kindred to care for, offered to take the whole charge of the +little Frank soon after her decease. Some scruples and some reluctance +the widower-father may be supposed to have felt; but as they were +overcome by other considerations, the child was given up to the care and +the wealth of the Churchills, and he had only his own comfort to seek, +and his own situation to improve as he could. + +A complete change of life became desirable. He quitted the militia and +engaged in trade, having brothers already established in a good way in +London, which afforded him a favourable opening. It was a concern which +brought just employment enough. He had still a small house in Highbury, +where most of his leisure days were spent; and between useful occupation +and the pleasures of society, the next eighteen or twenty years of his +life passed cheerfully away. He had, by that time, realised an easy +competence--enough to secure the purchase of a little estate adjoining +Highbury, which he had always longed for--enough to marry a woman as +portionless even as Miss Taylor, and to live according to the wishes of +his own friendly and social disposition. + +It was now some time since Miss Taylor had begun to influence his +schemes; but as it was not the tyrannic influence of youth on youth, +it had not shaken his determination of never settling till he could +purchase Randalls, and the sale of Randalls was long looked forward to; +but he had gone steadily on, with these objects in view, till they were +accomplished. He had made his fortune, bought his house, and obtained +his wife; and was beginning a new period of existence, with every +probability of greater happiness than in any yet passed through. He had +never been an unhappy man; his own temper had secured him from that, +even in his first marriage; but his second must shew him how delightful +a well-judging and truly amiable woman could be, and must give him the +pleasantest proof of its being a great deal better to choose than to be +chosen, to excite gratitude than to feel it. + +He had only himself to please in his choice: his fortune was his own; +for as to Frank, it was more than being tacitly brought up as his +uncle's heir, it had become so avowed an adoption as to have him assume +the name of Churchill on coming of age. It was most unlikely, therefore, +that he should ever want his father's assistance. His father had no +apprehension of it. The aunt was a capricious woman, and governed her +husband entirely; but it was not in Mr. Weston's nature to imagine that +any caprice could be strong enough to affect one so dear, and, as he +believed, so deservedly dear. He saw his son every year in London, and +was proud of him; and his fond report of him as a very fine young man +had made Highbury feel a sort of pride in him too. He was looked on as +sufficiently belonging to the place to make his merits and prospects a +kind of common concern. + +Mr. Frank Churchill was one of the boasts of Highbury, and a lively +curiosity to see him prevailed, though the compliment was so little +returned that he had never been there in his life. His coming to visit +his father had been often talked of but never achieved. + +Now, upon his father's marriage, it was very generally proposed, as a +most proper attention, that the visit should take place. There was not a +dissentient voice on the subject, either when Mrs. Perry drank tea with +Mrs. and Miss Bates, or when Mrs. and Miss Bates returned the visit. Now +was the time for Mr. Frank Churchill to come among them; and the hope +strengthened when it was understood that he had written to his new +mother on the occasion. For a few days, every morning visit in Highbury +included some mention of the handsome letter Mrs. Weston had received. +“I suppose you have heard of the handsome letter Mr. Frank Churchill +has written to Mrs. Weston? I understand it was a very handsome letter, +indeed. Mr. Woodhouse told me of it. Mr. Woodhouse saw the letter, and +he says he never saw such a handsome letter in his life.” + +It was, indeed, a highly prized letter. Mrs. Weston had, of course, +formed a very favourable idea of the young man; and such a pleasing +attention was an irresistible proof of his great good sense, and a most +welcome addition to every source and every expression of congratulation +which her marriage had already secured. She felt herself a most +fortunate woman; and she had lived long enough to know how fortunate +she might well be thought, where the only regret was for a partial +separation from friends whose friendship for her had never cooled, and +who could ill bear to part with her. + +She knew that at times she must be missed; and could not think, without +pain, of Emma's losing a single pleasure, or suffering an hour's ennui, +from the want of her companionableness: but dear Emma was of no feeble +character; she was more equal to her situation than most girls would +have been, and had sense, and energy, and spirits that might be hoped +would bear her well and happily through its little difficulties and +privations. And then there was such comfort in the very easy distance of +Randalls from Hartfield, so convenient for even solitary female walking, +and in Mr. Weston's disposition and circumstances, which would make the +approaching season no hindrance to their spending half the evenings in +the week together. + +Her situation was altogether the subject of hours of gratitude to Mrs. +Weston, and of moments only of regret; and her satisfaction--her more +than satisfaction--her cheerful enjoyment, was so just and so apparent, +that Emma, well as she knew her father, was sometimes taken by surprize +at his being still able to pity 'poor Miss Taylor,' when they left her +at Randalls in the centre of every domestic comfort, or saw her go away +in the evening attended by her pleasant husband to a carriage of her +own. But never did she go without Mr. Woodhouse's giving a gentle sigh, +and saying, “Ah, poor Miss Taylor! She would be very glad to stay.” + +There was no recovering Miss Taylor--nor much likelihood of ceasing to +pity her; but a few weeks brought some alleviation to Mr. Woodhouse. +The compliments of his neighbours were over; he was no longer teased by +being wished joy of so sorrowful an event; and the wedding-cake, which +had been a great distress to him, was all eat up. His own stomach +could bear nothing rich, and he could never believe other people to be +different from himself. What was unwholesome to him he regarded as unfit +for any body; and he had, therefore, earnestly tried to dissuade them +from having any wedding-cake at all, and when that proved vain, as +earnestly tried to prevent any body's eating it. He had been at the +pains of consulting Mr. Perry, the apothecary, on the subject. Mr. Perry +was an intelligent, gentlemanlike man, whose frequent visits were one +of the comforts of Mr. Woodhouse's life; and upon being applied to, he +could not but acknowledge (though it seemed rather against the bias +of inclination) that wedding-cake might certainly disagree with +many--perhaps with most people, unless taken moderately. With such an +opinion, in confirmation of his own, Mr. Woodhouse hoped to influence +every visitor of the newly married pair; but still the cake was eaten; +and there was no rest for his benevolent nerves till it was all gone. + +There was a strange rumour in Highbury of all the little Perrys being +seen with a slice of Mrs. Weston's wedding-cake in their hands: but Mr. +Woodhouse would never believe it. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Mr. Woodhouse was fond of society in his own way. He liked very much to +have his friends come and see him; and from various united causes, from +his long residence at Hartfield, and his good nature, from his fortune, +his house, and his daughter, he could command the visits of his +own little circle, in a great measure, as he liked. He had not much +intercourse with any families beyond that circle; his horror of late +hours, and large dinner-parties, made him unfit for any acquaintance but +such as would visit him on his own terms. Fortunately for him, Highbury, +including Randalls in the same parish, and Donwell Abbey in the parish +adjoining, the seat of Mr. Knightley, comprehended many such. Not +unfrequently, through Emma's persuasion, he had some of the chosen and +the best to dine with him: but evening parties were what he preferred; +and, unless he fancied himself at any time unequal to company, there +was scarcely an evening in the week in which Emma could not make up a +card-table for him. + +Real, long-standing regard brought the Westons and Mr. Knightley; and by +Mr. Elton, a young man living alone without liking it, the privilege +of exchanging any vacant evening of his own blank solitude for the +elegancies and society of Mr. Woodhouse's drawing-room, and the smiles +of his lovely daughter, was in no danger of being thrown away. + +After these came a second set; among the most come-at-able of whom were +Mrs. and Miss Bates, and Mrs. Goddard, three ladies almost always at +the service of an invitation from Hartfield, and who were fetched and +carried home so often, that Mr. Woodhouse thought it no hardship for +either James or the horses. Had it taken place only once a year, it +would have been a grievance. + +Mrs. Bates, the widow of a former vicar of Highbury, was a very old +lady, almost past every thing but tea and quadrille. She lived with her +single daughter in a very small way, and was considered with all the +regard and respect which a harmless old lady, under such untoward +circumstances, can excite. Her daughter enjoyed a most uncommon degree +of popularity for a woman neither young, handsome, rich, nor married. +Miss Bates stood in the very worst predicament in the world for having +much of the public favour; and she had no intellectual superiority to +make atonement to herself, or frighten those who might hate her into +outward respect. She had never boasted either beauty or cleverness. Her +youth had passed without distinction, and her middle of life was devoted +to the care of a failing mother, and the endeavour to make a small +income go as far as possible. And yet she was a happy woman, and a woman +whom no one named without good-will. It was her own universal good-will +and contented temper which worked such wonders. She loved every body, +was interested in every body's happiness, quicksighted to every body's +merits; thought herself a most fortunate creature, and surrounded with +blessings in such an excellent mother, and so many good neighbours +and friends, and a home that wanted for nothing. The simplicity and +cheerfulness of her nature, her contented and grateful spirit, were a +recommendation to every body, and a mine of felicity to herself. She was +a great talker upon little matters, which exactly suited Mr. Woodhouse, +full of trivial communications and harmless gossip. + +Mrs. Goddard was the mistress of a School--not of a seminary, or an +establishment, or any thing which professed, in long sentences of +refined nonsense, to combine liberal acquirements with elegant morality, +upon new principles and new systems--and where young ladies for enormous +pay might be screwed out of health and into vanity--but a real, +honest, old-fashioned Boarding-school, where a reasonable quantity of +accomplishments were sold at a reasonable price, and where girls might +be sent to be out of the way, and scramble themselves into a little +education, without any danger of coming back prodigies. Mrs. Goddard's +school was in high repute--and very deservedly; for Highbury was +reckoned a particularly healthy spot: she had an ample house and garden, +gave the children plenty of wholesome food, let them run about a great +deal in the summer, and in winter dressed their chilblains with her own +hands. It was no wonder that a train of twenty young couple now walked +after her to church. She was a plain, motherly kind of woman, who +had worked hard in her youth, and now thought herself entitled to the +occasional holiday of a tea-visit; and having formerly owed much to Mr. +Woodhouse's kindness, felt his particular claim on her to leave her neat +parlour, hung round with fancy-work, whenever she could, and win or lose +a few sixpences by his fireside. + +These were the ladies whom Emma found herself very frequently able to +collect; and happy was she, for her father's sake, in the power; though, +as far as she was herself concerned, it was no remedy for the absence of +Mrs. Weston. She was delighted to see her father look comfortable, and +very much pleased with herself for contriving things so well; but the +quiet prosings of three such women made her feel that every evening so +spent was indeed one of the long evenings she had fearfully anticipated. + +As she sat one morning, looking forward to exactly such a close of the +present day, a note was brought from Mrs. Goddard, requesting, in most +respectful terms, to be allowed to bring Miss Smith with her; a most +welcome request: for Miss Smith was a girl of seventeen, whom Emma knew +very well by sight, and had long felt an interest in, on account of +her beauty. A very gracious invitation was returned, and the evening no +longer dreaded by the fair mistress of the mansion. + +Harriet Smith was the natural daughter of somebody. Somebody had placed +her, several years back, at Mrs. Goddard's school, and somebody +had lately raised her from the condition of scholar to that of +parlour-boarder. This was all that was generally known of her history. +She had no visible friends but what had been acquired at Highbury, and +was now just returned from a long visit in the country to some young +ladies who had been at school there with her. + +She was a very pretty girl, and her beauty happened to be of a sort +which Emma particularly admired. She was short, plump, and fair, with a +fine bloom, blue eyes, light hair, regular features, and a look of great +sweetness, and, before the end of the evening, Emma was as much pleased +with her manners as her person, and quite determined to continue the +acquaintance. + +She was not struck by any thing remarkably clever in Miss Smith's +conversation, but she found her altogether very engaging--not +inconveniently shy, not unwilling to talk--and yet so far from pushing, +shewing so proper and becoming a deference, seeming so pleasantly +grateful for being admitted to Hartfield, and so artlessly impressed +by the appearance of every thing in so superior a style to what she had +been used to, that she must have good sense, and deserve encouragement. +Encouragement should be given. Those soft blue eyes, and all those +natural graces, should not be wasted on the inferior society of Highbury +and its connexions. The acquaintance she had already formed were +unworthy of her. The friends from whom she had just parted, though very +good sort of people, must be doing her harm. They were a family of the +name of Martin, whom Emma well knew by character, as renting a large +farm of Mr. Knightley, and residing in the parish of Donwell--very +creditably, she believed--she knew Mr. Knightley thought highly of +them--but they must be coarse and unpolished, and very unfit to be the +intimates of a girl who wanted only a little more knowledge and elegance +to be quite perfect. _She_ would notice her; she would improve her; she +would detach her from her bad acquaintance, and introduce her into good +society; she would form her opinions and her manners. It would be an +interesting, and certainly a very kind undertaking; highly becoming her +own situation in life, her leisure, and powers. + +She was so busy in admiring those soft blue eyes, in talking and +listening, and forming all these schemes in the in-betweens, that the +evening flew away at a very unusual rate; and the supper-table, which +always closed such parties, and for which she had been used to sit and +watch the due time, was all set out and ready, and moved forwards to the +fire, before she was aware. With an alacrity beyond the common impulse +of a spirit which yet was never indifferent to the credit of doing every +thing well and attentively, with the real good-will of a mind delighted +with its own ideas, did she then do all the honours of the meal, and +help and recommend the minced chicken and scalloped oysters, with an +urgency which she knew would be acceptable to the early hours and civil +scruples of their guests. + +Upon such occasions poor Mr. Woodhouse's feelings were in sad warfare. +He loved to have the cloth laid, because it had been the fashion of his +youth, but his conviction of suppers being very unwholesome made him +rather sorry to see any thing put on it; and while his hospitality would +have welcomed his visitors to every thing, his care for their health +made him grieve that they would eat. + +Such another small basin of thin gruel as his own was all that he could, +with thorough self-approbation, recommend; though he might constrain +himself, while the ladies were comfortably clearing the nicer things, to +say: + +“Mrs. Bates, let me propose your venturing on one of these eggs. An egg +boiled very soft is not unwholesome. Serle understands boiling an egg +better than any body. I would not recommend an egg boiled by any body +else; but you need not be afraid, they are very small, you see--one of +our small eggs will not hurt you. Miss Bates, let Emma help you to a +_little_ bit of tart--a _very_ little bit. Ours are all apple-tarts. You +need not be afraid of unwholesome preserves here. I do not advise the +custard. Mrs. Goddard, what say you to _half_ a glass of wine? A +_small_ half-glass, put into a tumbler of water? I do not think it could +disagree with you.” + +Emma allowed her father to talk--but supplied her visitors in a much +more satisfactory style, and on the present evening had particular +pleasure in sending them away happy. The happiness of Miss Smith was +quite equal to her intentions. Miss Woodhouse was so great a personage +in Highbury, that the prospect of the introduction had given as much +panic as pleasure; but the humble, grateful little girl went off with +highly gratified feelings, delighted with the affability with which Miss +Woodhouse had treated her all the evening, and actually shaken hands +with her at last! + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Harriet Smith's intimacy at Hartfield was soon a settled thing. Quick +and decided in her ways, Emma lost no time in inviting, encouraging, and +telling her to come very often; and as their acquaintance increased, so +did their satisfaction in each other. As a walking companion, Emma had +very early foreseen how useful she might find her. In that respect +Mrs. Weston's loss had been important. Her father never went beyond the +shrubbery, where two divisions of the ground sufficed him for his long +walk, or his short, as the year varied; and since Mrs. Weston's marriage +her exercise had been too much confined. She had ventured once alone to +Randalls, but it was not pleasant; and a Harriet Smith, therefore, +one whom she could summon at any time to a walk, would be a valuable +addition to her privileges. But in every respect, as she saw more of +her, she approved her, and was confirmed in all her kind designs. + +Harriet certainly was not clever, but she had a sweet, docile, grateful +disposition, was totally free from conceit, and only desiring to be +guided by any one she looked up to. Her early attachment to herself +was very amiable; and her inclination for good company, and power of +appreciating what was elegant and clever, shewed that there was no +want of taste, though strength of understanding must not be expected. +Altogether she was quite convinced of Harriet Smith's being exactly the +young friend she wanted--exactly the something which her home required. +Such a friend as Mrs. Weston was out of the question. Two such could +never be granted. Two such she did not want. It was quite a different +sort of thing, a sentiment distinct and independent. Mrs. Weston was the +object of a regard which had its basis in gratitude and esteem. Harriet +would be loved as one to whom she could be useful. For Mrs. Weston there +was nothing to be done; for Harriet every thing. + +Her first attempts at usefulness were in an endeavour to find out who +were the parents, but Harriet could not tell. She was ready to tell +every thing in her power, but on this subject questions were vain. Emma +was obliged to fancy what she liked--but she could never believe that in +the same situation _she_ should not have discovered the truth. Harriet +had no penetration. She had been satisfied to hear and believe just what +Mrs. Goddard chose to tell her; and looked no farther. + +Mrs. Goddard, and the teachers, and the girls and the affairs of +the school in general, formed naturally a great part of the +conversation--and but for her acquaintance with the Martins of +Abbey-Mill Farm, it must have been the whole. But the Martins occupied +her thoughts a good deal; she had spent two very happy months with them, +and now loved to talk of the pleasures of her visit, and describe +the many comforts and wonders of the place. Emma encouraged her +talkativeness--amused by such a picture of another set of beings, +and enjoying the youthful simplicity which could speak with so much +exultation of Mrs. Martin's having “_two_ parlours, two very good +parlours, indeed; one of them quite as large as Mrs. Goddard's +drawing-room; and of her having an upper maid who had lived +five-and-twenty years with her; and of their having eight cows, two of +them Alderneys, and one a little Welch cow, a very pretty little Welch +cow indeed; and of Mrs. Martin's saying as she was so fond of it, +it should be called _her_ cow; and of their having a very handsome +summer-house in their garden, where some day next year they were all to +drink tea:--a very handsome summer-house, large enough to hold a dozen +people.” + +For some time she was amused, without thinking beyond the immediate +cause; but as she came to understand the family better, other feelings +arose. She had taken up a wrong idea, fancying it was a mother and +daughter, a son and son's wife, who all lived together; but when it +appeared that the Mr. Martin, who bore a part in the narrative, and was +always mentioned with approbation for his great good-nature in doing +something or other, was a single man; that there was no young Mrs. +Martin, no wife in the case; she did suspect danger to her poor little +friend from all this hospitality and kindness, and that, if she were not +taken care of, she might be required to sink herself forever. + +With this inspiriting notion, her questions increased in number and +meaning; and she particularly led Harriet to talk more of Mr. Martin, +and there was evidently no dislike to it. Harriet was very ready to +speak of the share he had had in their moonlight walks and merry evening +games; and dwelt a good deal upon his being so very good-humoured and +obliging. He had gone three miles round one day in order to bring her +some walnuts, because she had said how fond she was of them, and in +every thing else he was so very obliging. He had his shepherd's son into +the parlour one night on purpose to sing to her. She was very fond +of singing. He could sing a little himself. She believed he was very +clever, and understood every thing. He had a very fine flock, and, while +she was with them, he had been bid more for his wool than any body in +the country. She believed every body spoke well of him. His mother and +sisters were very fond of him. Mrs. Martin had told her one day (and +there was a blush as she said it,) that it was impossible for any body +to be a better son, and therefore she was sure, whenever he married, he +would make a good husband. Not that she _wanted_ him to marry. She was +in no hurry at all. + +“Well done, Mrs. Martin!” thought Emma. “You know what you are about.” + +“And when she had come away, Mrs. Martin was so very kind as to send +Mrs. Goddard a beautiful goose--the finest goose Mrs. Goddard had ever +seen. Mrs. Goddard had dressed it on a Sunday, and asked all the three +teachers, Miss Nash, and Miss Prince, and Miss Richardson, to sup with +her.” + +“Mr. Martin, I suppose, is not a man of information beyond the line of +his own business? He does not read?” + +“Oh yes!--that is, no--I do not know--but I believe he has read a +good deal--but not what you would think any thing of. He reads the +Agricultural Reports, and some other books that lay in one of the window +seats--but he reads all _them_ to himself. But sometimes of an evening, +before we went to cards, he would read something aloud out of the +Elegant Extracts, very entertaining. And I know he has read the Vicar of +Wakefield. He never read the Romance of the Forest, nor The Children of +the Abbey. He had never heard of such books before I mentioned them, but +he is determined to get them now as soon as ever he can.” + +The next question was-- + +“What sort of looking man is Mr. Martin?” + +“Oh! not handsome--not at all handsome. I thought him very plain at +first, but I do not think him so plain now. One does not, you know, +after a time. But did you never see him? He is in Highbury every now and +then, and he is sure to ride through every week in his way to Kingston. +He has passed you very often.” + +“That may be, and I may have seen him fifty times, but without having +any idea of his name. A young farmer, whether on horseback or on foot, +is the very last sort of person to raise my curiosity. The yeomanry are +precisely the order of people with whom I feel I can have nothing to do. +A degree or two lower, and a creditable appearance might interest me; +I might hope to be useful to their families in some way or other. But +a farmer can need none of my help, and is, therefore, in one sense, as +much above my notice as in every other he is below it.” + +“To be sure. Oh yes! It is not likely you should ever have observed him; +but he knows you very well indeed--I mean by sight.” + +“I have no doubt of his being a very respectable young man. I know, +indeed, that he is so, and, as such, wish him well. What do you imagine +his age to be?” + +“He was four-and-twenty the 8th of last June, and my birthday is the +23rd just a fortnight and a day's difference--which is very odd.” + +“Only four-and-twenty. That is too young to settle. His mother is +perfectly right not to be in a hurry. They seem very comfortable as they +are, and if she were to take any pains to marry him, she would probably +repent it. Six years hence, if he could meet with a good sort of young +woman in the same rank as his own, with a little money, it might be very +desirable.” + +“Six years hence! Dear Miss Woodhouse, he would be thirty years old!” + +“Well, and that is as early as most men can afford to marry, who are not +born to an independence. Mr. Martin, I imagine, has his fortune entirely +to make--cannot be at all beforehand with the world. Whatever money he +might come into when his father died, whatever his share of the family +property, it is, I dare say, all afloat, all employed in his stock, and +so forth; and though, with diligence and good luck, he may be rich in +time, it is next to impossible that he should have realised any thing +yet.” + +“To be sure, so it is. But they live very comfortably. They have no +indoors man, else they do not want for any thing; and Mrs. Martin talks +of taking a boy another year.” + +“I wish you may not get into a scrape, Harriet, whenever he does +marry;--I mean, as to being acquainted with his wife--for though his +sisters, from a superior education, are not to be altogether objected +to, it does not follow that he might marry any body at all fit for you +to notice. The misfortune of your birth ought to make you particularly +careful as to your associates. There can be no doubt of your being a +gentleman's daughter, and you must support your claim to that station by +every thing within your own power, or there will be plenty of people who +would take pleasure in degrading you.” + +“Yes, to be sure, I suppose there are. But while I visit at Hartfield, +and you are so kind to me, Miss Woodhouse, I am not afraid of what any +body can do.” + +“You understand the force of influence pretty well, Harriet; but I would +have you so firmly established in good society, as to be independent +even of Hartfield and Miss Woodhouse. I want to see you permanently +well connected, and to that end it will be advisable to have as few odd +acquaintance as may be; and, therefore, I say that if you should still +be in this country when Mr. Martin marries, I wish you may not be drawn +in by your intimacy with the sisters, to be acquainted with the wife, +who will probably be some mere farmer's daughter, without education.” + +“To be sure. Yes. Not that I think Mr. Martin would ever marry any body +but what had had some education--and been very well brought up. However, +I do not mean to set up my opinion against yours--and I am sure I shall +not wish for the acquaintance of his wife. I shall always have a great +regard for the Miss Martins, especially Elizabeth, and should be very +sorry to give them up, for they are quite as well educated as me. But +if he marries a very ignorant, vulgar woman, certainly I had better not +visit her, if I can help it.” + +Emma watched her through the fluctuations of this speech, and saw no +alarming symptoms of love. The young man had been the first admirer, but +she trusted there was no other hold, and that there would be no serious +difficulty, on Harriet's side, to oppose any friendly arrangement of her +own. + +They met Mr. Martin the very next day, as they were walking on the +Donwell road. He was on foot, and after looking very respectfully at +her, looked with most unfeigned satisfaction at her companion. Emma was +not sorry to have such an opportunity of survey; and walking a few +yards forward, while they talked together, soon made her quick eye +sufficiently acquainted with Mr. Robert Martin. His appearance was very +neat, and he looked like a sensible young man, but his person had no +other advantage; and when he came to be contrasted with gentlemen, +she thought he must lose all the ground he had gained in Harriet's +inclination. Harriet was not insensible of manner; she had voluntarily +noticed her father's gentleness with admiration as well as wonder. Mr. +Martin looked as if he did not know what manner was. + +They remained but a few minutes together, as Miss Woodhouse must not be +kept waiting; and Harriet then came running to her with a smiling face, +and in a flutter of spirits, which Miss Woodhouse hoped very soon to +compose. + +“Only think of our happening to meet him!--How very odd! It was quite +a chance, he said, that he had not gone round by Randalls. He did not +think we ever walked this road. He thought we walked towards Randalls +most days. He has not been able to get the Romance of the Forest yet. +He was so busy the last time he was at Kingston that he quite forgot it, +but he goes again to-morrow. So very odd we should happen to meet! Well, +Miss Woodhouse, is he like what you expected? What do you think of him? +Do you think him so very plain?” + +“He is very plain, undoubtedly--remarkably plain:--but that is nothing +compared with his entire want of gentility. I had no right to expect +much, and I did not expect much; but I had no idea that he could be so +very clownish, so totally without air. I had imagined him, I confess, a +degree or two nearer gentility.” + +“To be sure,” said Harriet, in a mortified voice, “he is not so genteel +as real gentlemen.” + +“I think, Harriet, since your acquaintance with us, you have been +repeatedly in the company of some such very real gentlemen, that you +must yourself be struck with the difference in Mr. Martin. At Hartfield, +you have had very good specimens of well educated, well bred men. I +should be surprized if, after seeing them, you could be in company +with Mr. Martin again without perceiving him to be a very inferior +creature--and rather wondering at yourself for having ever thought him +at all agreeable before. Do not you begin to feel that now? Were not +you struck? I am sure you must have been struck by his awkward look and +abrupt manner, and the uncouthness of a voice which I heard to be wholly +unmodulated as I stood here.” + +“Certainly, he is not like Mr. Knightley. He has not such a fine air and +way of walking as Mr. Knightley. I see the difference plain enough. But +Mr. Knightley is so very fine a man!” + +“Mr. Knightley's air is so remarkably good that it is not fair to +compare Mr. Martin with _him_. You might not see one in a hundred with +_gentleman_ so plainly written as in Mr. Knightley. But he is not the +only gentleman you have been lately used to. What say you to Mr. Weston +and Mr. Elton? Compare Mr. Martin with either of _them_. Compare their +manner of carrying themselves; of walking; of speaking; of being silent. +You must see the difference.” + +“Oh yes!--there is a great difference. But Mr. Weston is almost an old +man. Mr. Weston must be between forty and fifty.” + +“Which makes his good manners the more valuable. The older a person +grows, Harriet, the more important it is that their manners should not +be bad; the more glaring and disgusting any loudness, or coarseness, or +awkwardness becomes. What is passable in youth is detestable in later +age. Mr. Martin is now awkward and abrupt; what will he be at Mr. +Weston's time of life?” + +“There is no saying, indeed,” replied Harriet rather solemnly. + +“But there may be pretty good guessing. He will be a completely gross, +vulgar farmer, totally inattentive to appearances, and thinking of +nothing but profit and loss.” + +“Will he, indeed? That will be very bad.” + +“How much his business engrosses him already is very plain from the +circumstance of his forgetting to inquire for the book you recommended. +He was a great deal too full of the market to think of any thing +else--which is just as it should be, for a thriving man. What has he to +do with books? And I have no doubt that he _will_ thrive, and be a very +rich man in time--and his being illiterate and coarse need not disturb +_us_.” + +“I wonder he did not remember the book”--was all Harriet's answer, and +spoken with a degree of grave displeasure which Emma thought might be +safely left to itself. She, therefore, said no more for some time. Her +next beginning was, + +“In one respect, perhaps, Mr. Elton's manners are superior to Mr. +Knightley's or Mr. Weston's. They have more gentleness. They might be +more safely held up as a pattern. There is an openness, a quickness, +almost a bluntness in Mr. Weston, which every body likes in _him_, +because there is so much good-humour with it--but that would not do to +be copied. Neither would Mr. Knightley's downright, decided, commanding +sort of manner, though it suits _him_ very well; his figure, and look, +and situation in life seem to allow it; but if any young man were to set +about copying him, he would not be sufferable. On the contrary, I think +a young man might be very safely recommended to take Mr. Elton as a +model. Mr. Elton is good-humoured, cheerful, obliging, and gentle. +He seems to me to be grown particularly gentle of late. I do not know +whether he has any design of ingratiating himself with either of us, +Harriet, by additional softness, but it strikes me that his manners are +softer than they used to be. If he means any thing, it must be to please +you. Did not I tell you what he said of you the other day?” + +She then repeated some warm personal praise which she had drawn from Mr. +Elton, and now did full justice to; and Harriet blushed and smiled, and +said she had always thought Mr. Elton very agreeable. + +Mr. Elton was the very person fixed on by Emma for driving the young +farmer out of Harriet's head. She thought it would be an excellent +match; and only too palpably desirable, natural, and probable, for her +to have much merit in planning it. She feared it was what every body +else must think of and predict. It was not likely, however, that any +body should have equalled her in the date of the plan, as it had +entered her brain during the very first evening of Harriet's coming to +Hartfield. The longer she considered it, the greater was her sense +of its expediency. Mr. Elton's situation was most suitable, quite the +gentleman himself, and without low connexions; at the same time, not of +any family that could fairly object to the doubtful birth of Harriet. +He had a comfortable home for her, and Emma imagined a very sufficient +income; for though the vicarage of Highbury was not large, he was known +to have some independent property; and she thought very highly of him +as a good-humoured, well-meaning, respectable young man, without any +deficiency of useful understanding or knowledge of the world. + +She had already satisfied herself that he thought Harriet a beautiful +girl, which she trusted, with such frequent meetings at Hartfield, was +foundation enough on his side; and on Harriet's there could be little +doubt that the idea of being preferred by him would have all the usual +weight and efficacy. And he was really a very pleasing young man, a +young man whom any woman not fastidious might like. He was reckoned very +handsome; his person much admired in general, though not by her, +there being a want of elegance of feature which she could not dispense +with:--but the girl who could be gratified by a Robert Martin's riding +about the country to get walnuts for her might very well be conquered by +Mr. Elton's admiration. + + + +CHAPTER V + + +“I do not know what your opinion may be, Mrs. Weston,” said Mr. +Knightley, “of this great intimacy between Emma and Harriet Smith, but I +think it a bad thing.” + +“A bad thing! Do you really think it a bad thing?--why so?” + +“I think they will neither of them do the other any good.” + +“You surprize me! Emma must do Harriet good: and by supplying her with a +new object of interest, Harriet may be said to do Emma good. I have been +seeing their intimacy with the greatest pleasure. How very differently +we feel!--Not think they will do each other any good! This will +certainly be the beginning of one of our quarrels about Emma, Mr. +Knightley.” + +“Perhaps you think I am come on purpose to quarrel with you, knowing +Weston to be out, and that you must still fight your own battle.” + +“Mr. Weston would undoubtedly support me, if he were here, for he thinks +exactly as I do on the subject. We were speaking of it only yesterday, +and agreeing how fortunate it was for Emma, that there should be such a +girl in Highbury for her to associate with. Mr. Knightley, I shall not +allow you to be a fair judge in this case. You are so much used to live +alone, that you do not know the value of a companion; and, perhaps no +man can be a good judge of the comfort a woman feels in the society of +one of her own sex, after being used to it all her life. I can imagine +your objection to Harriet Smith. She is not the superior young woman +which Emma's friend ought to be. But on the other hand, as Emma wants +to see her better informed, it will be an inducement to her to read more +herself. They will read together. She means it, I know.” + +“Emma has been meaning to read more ever since she was twelve years old. +I have seen a great many lists of her drawing-up at various times of +books that she meant to read regularly through--and very good lists +they were--very well chosen, and very neatly arranged--sometimes +alphabetically, and sometimes by some other rule. The list she drew +up when only fourteen--I remember thinking it did her judgment so much +credit, that I preserved it some time; and I dare say she may have made +out a very good list now. But I have done with expecting any course of +steady reading from Emma. She will never submit to any thing +requiring industry and patience, and a subjection of the fancy to the +understanding. Where Miss Taylor failed to stimulate, I may safely +affirm that Harriet Smith will do nothing.--You never could persuade her +to read half so much as you wished.--You know you could not.” + +“I dare say,” replied Mrs. Weston, smiling, “that I thought so +_then_;--but since we have parted, I can never remember Emma's omitting +to do any thing I wished.” + +“There is hardly any desiring to refresh such a memory as _that_,”--said +Mr. Knightley, feelingly; and for a moment or two he had done. “But I,” + he soon added, “who have had no such charm thrown over my senses, must +still see, hear, and remember. Emma is spoiled by being the cleverest +of her family. At ten years old, she had the misfortune of being able to +answer questions which puzzled her sister at seventeen. She was always +quick and assured: Isabella slow and diffident. And ever since she +was twelve, Emma has been mistress of the house and of you all. In her +mother she lost the only person able to cope with her. She inherits her +mother's talents, and must have been under subjection to her.” + +“I should have been sorry, Mr. Knightley, to be dependent on _your_ +recommendation, had I quitted Mr. Woodhouse's family and wanted another +situation; I do not think you would have spoken a good word for me to +any body. I am sure you always thought me unfit for the office I held.” + +“Yes,” said he, smiling. “You are better placed _here_; very fit for a +wife, but not at all for a governess. But you were preparing yourself to +be an excellent wife all the time you were at Hartfield. You might +not give Emma such a complete education as your powers would seem to +promise; but you were receiving a very good education from _her_, on the +very material matrimonial point of submitting your own will, and doing +as you were bid; and if Weston had asked me to recommend him a wife, I +should certainly have named Miss Taylor.” + +“Thank you. There will be very little merit in making a good wife to +such a man as Mr. Weston.” + +“Why, to own the truth, I am afraid you are rather thrown away, and that +with every disposition to bear, there will be nothing to be borne. We +will not despair, however. Weston may grow cross from the wantonness of +comfort, or his son may plague him.” + +“I hope not _that_.--It is not likely. No, Mr. Knightley, do not +foretell vexation from that quarter.” + +“Not I, indeed. I only name possibilities. I do not pretend to Emma's +genius for foretelling and guessing. I hope, with all my heart, the +young man may be a Weston in merit, and a Churchill in fortune.--But +Harriet Smith--I have not half done about Harriet Smith. I think her the +very worst sort of companion that Emma could possibly have. She knows +nothing herself, and looks upon Emma as knowing every thing. She is a +flatterer in all her ways; and so much the worse, because undesigned. +Her ignorance is hourly flattery. How can Emma imagine she has any +thing to learn herself, while Harriet is presenting such a delightful +inferiority? And as for Harriet, I will venture to say that _she_ cannot +gain by the acquaintance. Hartfield will only put her out of conceit +with all the other places she belongs to. She will grow just refined +enough to be uncomfortable with those among whom birth and circumstances +have placed her home. I am much mistaken if Emma's doctrines give any +strength of mind, or tend at all to make a girl adapt herself rationally +to the varieties of her situation in life.--They only give a little +polish.” + +“I either depend more upon Emma's good sense than you do, or am more +anxious for her present comfort; for I cannot lament the acquaintance. +How well she looked last night!” + +“Oh! you would rather talk of her person than her mind, would you? Very +well; I shall not attempt to deny Emma's being pretty.” + +“Pretty! say beautiful rather. Can you imagine any thing nearer perfect +beauty than Emma altogether--face and figure?” + +“I do not know what I could imagine, but I confess that I have seldom +seen a face or figure more pleasing to me than hers. But I am a partial +old friend.” + +“Such an eye!--the true hazle eye--and so brilliant! regular features, +open countenance, with a complexion! oh! what a bloom of full health, +and such a pretty height and size; such a firm and upright figure! +There is health, not merely in her bloom, but in her air, her head, her +glance. One hears sometimes of a child being 'the picture of health;' +now, Emma always gives me the idea of being the complete picture of +grown-up health. She is loveliness itself. Mr. Knightley, is not she?” + +“I have not a fault to find with her person,” he replied. “I think her +all you describe. I love to look at her; and I will add this praise, +that I do not think her personally vain. Considering how very handsome +she is, she appears to be little occupied with it; her vanity lies +another way. Mrs. Weston, I am not to be talked out of my dislike of +Harriet Smith, or my dread of its doing them both harm.” + +“And I, Mr. Knightley, am equally stout in my confidence of its not +doing them any harm. With all dear Emma's little faults, she is an +excellent creature. Where shall we see a better daughter, or a kinder +sister, or a truer friend? No, no; she has qualities which may be +trusted; she will never lead any one really wrong; she will make no +lasting blunder; where Emma errs once, she is in the right a hundred +times.” + +“Very well; I will not plague you any more. Emma shall be an angel, and +I will keep my spleen to myself till Christmas brings John and Isabella. +John loves Emma with a reasonable and therefore not a blind affection, +and Isabella always thinks as he does; except when he is not quite +frightened enough about the children. I am sure of having their opinions +with me.” + +“I know that you all love her really too well to be unjust or unkind; +but excuse me, Mr. Knightley, if I take the liberty (I consider myself, +you know, as having somewhat of the privilege of speech that Emma's +mother might have had) the liberty of hinting that I do not think any +possible good can arise from Harriet Smith's intimacy being made a +matter of much discussion among you. Pray excuse me; but supposing any +little inconvenience may be apprehended from the intimacy, it cannot be +expected that Emma, accountable to nobody but her father, who perfectly +approves the acquaintance, should put an end to it, so long as it is a +source of pleasure to herself. It has been so many years my province to +give advice, that you cannot be surprized, Mr. Knightley, at this little +remains of office.” + +“Not at all,” cried he; “I am much obliged to you for it. It is very +good advice, and it shall have a better fate than your advice has often +found; for it shall be attended to.” + +“Mrs. John Knightley is easily alarmed, and might be made unhappy about +her sister.” + +“Be satisfied,” said he, “I will not raise any outcry. I will keep my +ill-humour to myself. I have a very sincere interest in Emma. Isabella +does not seem more my sister; has never excited a greater interest; +perhaps hardly so great. There is an anxiety, a curiosity in what one +feels for Emma. I wonder what will become of her!” + +“So do I,” said Mrs. Weston gently, “very much.” + +“She always declares she will never marry, which, of course, means just +nothing at all. But I have no idea that she has yet ever seen a man she +cared for. It would not be a bad thing for her to be very much in love +with a proper object. I should like to see Emma in love, and in some +doubt of a return; it would do her good. But there is nobody hereabouts +to attach her; and she goes so seldom from home.” + +“There does, indeed, seem as little to tempt her to break her resolution +at present,” said Mrs. Weston, “as can well be; and while she is so +happy at Hartfield, I cannot wish her to be forming any attachment which +would be creating such difficulties on poor Mr. Woodhouse's account. I +do not recommend matrimony at present to Emma, though I mean no slight +to the state, I assure you.” + +Part of her meaning was to conceal some favourite thoughts of her own +and Mr. Weston's on the subject, as much as possible. There were wishes +at Randalls respecting Emma's destiny, but it was not desirable to +have them suspected; and the quiet transition which Mr. Knightley soon +afterwards made to “What does Weston think of the weather; shall we have +rain?” convinced her that he had nothing more to say or surmise about +Hartfield. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Emma could not feel a doubt of having given Harriet's fancy a proper +direction and raised the gratitude of her young vanity to a very good +purpose, for she found her decidedly more sensible than before of Mr. +Elton's being a remarkably handsome man, with most agreeable manners; +and as she had no hesitation in following up the assurance of his +admiration by agreeable hints, she was soon pretty confident of creating +as much liking on Harriet's side, as there could be any occasion for. +She was quite convinced of Mr. Elton's being in the fairest way of +falling in love, if not in love already. She had no scruple with regard +to him. He talked of Harriet, and praised her so warmly, that she could +not suppose any thing wanting which a little time would not add. His +perception of the striking improvement of Harriet's manner, since her +introduction at Hartfield, was not one of the least agreeable proofs of +his growing attachment. + +“You have given Miss Smith all that she required,” said he; “you have +made her graceful and easy. She was a beautiful creature when she +came to you, but, in my opinion, the attractions you have added are +infinitely superior to what she received from nature.” + +“I am glad you think I have been useful to her; but Harriet only wanted +drawing out, and receiving a few, very few hints. She had all the +natural grace of sweetness of temper and artlessness in herself. I have +done very little.” + +“If it were admissible to contradict a lady,” said the gallant Mr. +Elton-- + +“I have perhaps given her a little more decision of character, have +taught her to think on points which had not fallen in her way before.” + +“Exactly so; that is what principally strikes me. So much superadded +decision of character! Skilful has been the hand!” + +“Great has been the pleasure, I am sure. I never met with a disposition +more truly amiable.” + +“I have no doubt of it.” And it was spoken with a sort of sighing +animation, which had a vast deal of the lover. She was not less pleased +another day with the manner in which he seconded a sudden wish of hers, +to have Harriet's picture. + +“Did you ever have your likeness taken, Harriet?” said she: “did you +ever sit for your picture?” + +Harriet was on the point of leaving the room, and only stopt to say, +with a very interesting naivete, + +“Oh! dear, no, never.” + +No sooner was she out of sight, than Emma exclaimed, + +“What an exquisite possession a good picture of her would be! I would +give any money for it. I almost long to attempt her likeness myself. +You do not know it I dare say, but two or three years ago I had a great +passion for taking likenesses, and attempted several of my friends, and +was thought to have a tolerable eye in general. But from one cause or +another, I gave it up in disgust. But really, I could almost venture, +if Harriet would sit to me. It would be such a delight to have her +picture!” + +“Let me entreat you,” cried Mr. Elton; “it would indeed be a delight! +Let me entreat you, Miss Woodhouse, to exercise so charming a talent +in favour of your friend. I know what your drawings are. How could +you suppose me ignorant? Is not this room rich in specimens of your +landscapes and flowers; and has not Mrs. Weston some inimitable +figure-pieces in her drawing-room, at Randalls?” + +Yes, good man!--thought Emma--but what has all that to do with taking +likenesses? You know nothing of drawing. Don't pretend to be in raptures +about mine. Keep your raptures for Harriet's face. “Well, if you give me +such kind encouragement, Mr. Elton, I believe I shall try what I can do. +Harriet's features are very delicate, which makes a likeness difficult; +and yet there is a peculiarity in the shape of the eye and the lines +about the mouth which one ought to catch.” + +“Exactly so--The shape of the eye and the lines about the mouth--I have +not a doubt of your success. Pray, pray attempt it. As you will do it, +it will indeed, to use your own words, be an exquisite possession.” + +“But I am afraid, Mr. Elton, Harriet will not like to sit. She thinks +so little of her own beauty. Did not you observe her manner of answering +me? How completely it meant, 'why should my picture be drawn?'” + +“Oh! yes, I observed it, I assure you. It was not lost on me. But still +I cannot imagine she would not be persuaded.” + +Harriet was soon back again, and the proposal almost immediately made; +and she had no scruples which could stand many minutes against the +earnest pressing of both the others. Emma wished to go to work directly, +and therefore produced the portfolio containing her various attempts at +portraits, for not one of them had ever been finished, that they might +decide together on the best size for Harriet. Her many beginnings were +displayed. Miniatures, half-lengths, whole-lengths, pencil, crayon, and +water-colours had been all tried in turn. She had always wanted to do +every thing, and had made more progress both in drawing and music than +many might have done with so little labour as she would ever submit to. +She played and sang;--and drew in almost every style; but steadiness +had always been wanting; and in nothing had she approached the degree of +excellence which she would have been glad to command, and ought not to +have failed of. She was not much deceived as to her own skill either +as an artist or a musician, but she was not unwilling to have others +deceived, or sorry to know her reputation for accomplishment often +higher than it deserved. + +There was merit in every drawing--in the least finished, perhaps the +most; her style was spirited; but had there been much less, or had there +been ten times more, the delight and admiration of her two companions +would have been the same. They were both in ecstasies. A likeness +pleases every body; and Miss Woodhouse's performances must be capital. + +“No great variety of faces for you,” said Emma. “I had only my own +family to study from. There is my father--another of my father--but the +idea of sitting for his picture made him so nervous, that I could only +take him by stealth; neither of them very like therefore. Mrs. Weston +again, and again, and again, you see. Dear Mrs. Weston! always my +kindest friend on every occasion. She would sit whenever I asked her. +There is my sister; and really quite her own little elegant figure!--and +the face not unlike. I should have made a good likeness of her, if she +would have sat longer, but she was in such a hurry to have me draw +her four children that she would not be quiet. Then, here come all my +attempts at three of those four children;--there they are, Henry and +John and Bella, from one end of the sheet to the other, and any one of +them might do for any one of the rest. She was so eager to have them +drawn that I could not refuse; but there is no making children of three +or four years old stand still you know; nor can it be very easy to take +any likeness of them, beyond the air and complexion, unless they are +coarser featured than any of mama's children ever were. Here is my +sketch of the fourth, who was a baby. I took him as he was sleeping on +the sofa, and it is as strong a likeness of his cockade as you would +wish to see. He had nestled down his head most conveniently. That's very +like. I am rather proud of little George. The corner of the sofa is very +good. Then here is my last,”--unclosing a pretty sketch of a gentleman +in small size, whole-length--“my last and my best--my brother, Mr. John +Knightley.--This did not want much of being finished, when I put it away +in a pet, and vowed I would never take another likeness. I could not +help being provoked; for after all my pains, and when I had really made +a very good likeness of it--(Mrs. Weston and I were quite agreed in +thinking it _very_ like)--only too handsome--too flattering--but +that was a fault on the right side”--after all this, came poor dear +Isabella's cold approbation of--“Yes, it was a little like--but to be +sure it did not do him justice. We had had a great deal of trouble +in persuading him to sit at all. It was made a great favour of; and +altogether it was more than I could bear; and so I never would finish +it, to have it apologised over as an unfavourable likeness, to every +morning visitor in Brunswick Square;--and, as I said, I did then +forswear ever drawing any body again. But for Harriet's sake, or rather +for my own, and as there are no husbands and wives in the case _at_ +_present_, I will break my resolution now.” + +Mr. Elton seemed very properly struck and delighted by the idea, and was +repeating, “No husbands and wives in the case at present indeed, as +you observe. Exactly so. No husbands and wives,” with so interesting a +consciousness, that Emma began to consider whether she had not better +leave them together at once. But as she wanted to be drawing, the +declaration must wait a little longer. + +She had soon fixed on the size and sort of portrait. It was to be +a whole-length in water-colours, like Mr. John Knightley's, and was +destined, if she could please herself, to hold a very honourable station +over the mantelpiece. + +The sitting began; and Harriet, smiling and blushing, and afraid of not +keeping her attitude and countenance, presented a very sweet mixture of +youthful expression to the steady eyes of the artist. But there was no +doing any thing, with Mr. Elton fidgeting behind her and watching every +touch. She gave him credit for stationing himself where he might gaze +and gaze again without offence; but was really obliged to put an end to +it, and request him to place himself elsewhere. It then occurred to her +to employ him in reading. + +“If he would be so good as to read to them, it would be a kindness +indeed! It would amuse away the difficulties of her part, and lessen the +irksomeness of Miss Smith's.” + +Mr. Elton was only too happy. Harriet listened, and Emma drew in peace. +She must allow him to be still frequently coming to look; any thing less +would certainly have been too little in a lover; and he was ready at the +smallest intermission of the pencil, to jump up and see the progress, +and be charmed.--There was no being displeased with such an encourager, +for his admiration made him discern a likeness almost before it +was possible. She could not respect his eye, but his love and his +complaisance were unexceptionable. + +The sitting was altogether very satisfactory; she was quite enough +pleased with the first day's sketch to wish to go on. There was no want +of likeness, she had been fortunate in the attitude, and as she meant +to throw in a little improvement to the figure, to give a little more +height, and considerably more elegance, she had great confidence of +its being in every way a pretty drawing at last, and of its filling +its destined place with credit to them both--a standing memorial of the +beauty of one, the skill of the other, and the friendship of both; +with as many other agreeable associations as Mr. Elton's very promising +attachment was likely to add. + +Harriet was to sit again the next day; and Mr. Elton, just as he ought, +entreated for the permission of attending and reading to them again. + +“By all means. We shall be most happy to consider you as one of the +party.” + +The same civilities and courtesies, the same success and satisfaction, +took place on the morrow, and accompanied the whole progress of the +picture, which was rapid and happy. Every body who saw it was pleased, +but Mr. Elton was in continual raptures, and defended it through every +criticism. + +“Miss Woodhouse has given her friend the only beauty she +wanted,”--observed Mrs. Weston to him--not in the least suspecting that +she was addressing a lover.--“The expression of the eye is most correct, +but Miss Smith has not those eyebrows and eyelashes. It is the fault of +her face that she has them not.” + +“Do you think so?” replied he. “I cannot agree with you. It appears +to me a most perfect resemblance in every feature. I never saw such a +likeness in my life. We must allow for the effect of shade, you know.” + +“You have made her too tall, Emma,” said Mr. Knightley. + +Emma knew that she had, but would not own it; and Mr. Elton warmly +added, + +“Oh no! certainly not too tall; not in the least too tall. Consider, she +is sitting down--which naturally presents a different--which in short +gives exactly the idea--and the proportions must be preserved, you know. +Proportions, fore-shortening.--Oh no! it gives one exactly the idea of +such a height as Miss Smith's. Exactly so indeed!” + +“It is very pretty,” said Mr. Woodhouse. “So prettily done! Just as your +drawings always are, my dear. I do not know any body who draws so well +as you do. The only thing I do not thoroughly like is, that she seems +to be sitting out of doors, with only a little shawl over her +shoulders--and it makes one think she must catch cold.” + +“But, my dear papa, it is supposed to be summer; a warm day in summer. +Look at the tree.” + +“But it is never safe to sit out of doors, my dear.” + +“You, sir, may say any thing,” cried Mr. Elton, “but I must confess that +I regard it as a most happy thought, the placing of Miss Smith out of +doors; and the tree is touched with such inimitable spirit! Any other +situation would have been much less in character. The naivete of Miss +Smith's manners--and altogether--Oh, it is most admirable! I cannot keep +my eyes from it. I never saw such a likeness.” + +The next thing wanted was to get the picture framed; and here were a few +difficulties. It must be done directly; it must be done in London; the +order must go through the hands of some intelligent person whose taste +could be depended on; and Isabella, the usual doer of all commissions, +must not be applied to, because it was December, and Mr. Woodhouse +could not bear the idea of her stirring out of her house in the fogs of +December. But no sooner was the distress known to Mr. Elton, than it +was removed. His gallantry was always on the alert. “Might he be trusted +with the commission, what infinite pleasure should he have in executing +it! he could ride to London at any time. It was impossible to say how +much he should be gratified by being employed on such an errand.” + +“He was too good!--she could not endure the thought!--she would not give +him such a troublesome office for the world,”--brought on the desired +repetition of entreaties and assurances,--and a very few minutes settled +the business. + +Mr. Elton was to take the drawing to London, chuse the frame, and give +the directions; and Emma thought she could so pack it as to ensure its +safety without much incommoding him, while he seemed mostly fearful of +not being incommoded enough. + +“What a precious deposit!” said he with a tender sigh, as he received +it. + +“This man is almost too gallant to be in love,” thought Emma. “I should +say so, but that I suppose there may be a hundred different ways of +being in love. He is an excellent young man, and will suit Harriet +exactly; it will be an 'Exactly so,' as he says himself; but he does +sigh and languish, and study for compliments rather more than I could +endure as a principal. I come in for a pretty good share as a second. +But it is his gratitude on Harriet's account.” + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The very day of Mr. Elton's going to London produced a fresh occasion +for Emma's services towards her friend. Harriet had been at Hartfield, +as usual, soon after breakfast; and, after a time, had gone home to +return again to dinner: she returned, and sooner than had been +talked of, and with an agitated, hurried look, announcing something +extraordinary to have happened which she was longing to tell. Half a +minute brought it all out. She had heard, as soon as she got back to +Mrs. Goddard's, that Mr. Martin had been there an hour before, and +finding she was not at home, nor particularly expected, had left a +little parcel for her from one of his sisters, and gone away; and on +opening this parcel, she had actually found, besides the two songs which +she had lent Elizabeth to copy, a letter to herself; and this letter was +from him, from Mr. Martin, and contained a direct proposal of marriage. +“Who could have thought it? She was so surprized she did not know what +to do. Yes, quite a proposal of marriage; and a very good letter, +at least she thought so. And he wrote as if he really loved her very +much--but she did not know--and so, she was come as fast as she could to +ask Miss Woodhouse what she should do.--” Emma was half-ashamed of her +friend for seeming so pleased and so doubtful. + +“Upon my word,” she cried, “the young man is determined not to lose any +thing for want of asking. He will connect himself well if he can.” + +“Will you read the letter?” cried Harriet. “Pray do. I'd rather you +would.” + +Emma was not sorry to be pressed. She read, and was surprized. The style +of the letter was much above her expectation. There were not merely no +grammatical errors, but as a composition it would not have disgraced a +gentleman; the language, though plain, was strong and unaffected, and +the sentiments it conveyed very much to the credit of the writer. It was +short, but expressed good sense, warm attachment, liberality, propriety, +even delicacy of feeling. She paused over it, while Harriet stood +anxiously watching for her opinion, with a “Well, well,” and was at last +forced to add, “Is it a good letter? or is it too short?” + +“Yes, indeed, a very good letter,” replied Emma rather slowly--“so +good a letter, Harriet, that every thing considered, I think one of his +sisters must have helped him. I can hardly imagine the young man whom +I saw talking with you the other day could express himself so well, if +left quite to his own powers, and yet it is not the style of a woman; +no, certainly, it is too strong and concise; not diffuse enough for a +woman. No doubt he is a sensible man, and I suppose may have a natural +talent for--thinks strongly and clearly--and when he takes a pen in +hand, his thoughts naturally find proper words. It is so with some men. +Yes, I understand the sort of mind. Vigorous, decided, with sentiments +to a certain point, not coarse. A better written letter, Harriet +(returning it,) than I had expected.” + +“Well,” said the still waiting Harriet;--“well--and--and what shall I +do?” + +“What shall you do! In what respect? Do you mean with regard to this +letter?” + +“Yes.” + +“But what are you in doubt of? You must answer it of course--and +speedily.” + +“Yes. But what shall I say? Dear Miss Woodhouse, do advise me.” + +“Oh no, no! the letter had much better be all your own. You will express +yourself very properly, I am sure. There is no danger of your not +being intelligible, which is the first thing. Your meaning must be +unequivocal; no doubts or demurs: and such expressions of gratitude +and concern for the pain you are inflicting as propriety requires, will +present themselves unbidden to _your_ mind, I am persuaded. You need +not be prompted to write with the appearance of sorrow for his +disappointment.” + +“You think I ought to refuse him then,” said Harriet, looking down. + +“Ought to refuse him! My dear Harriet, what do you mean? Are you in any +doubt as to that? I thought--but I beg your pardon, perhaps I have been +under a mistake. I certainly have been misunderstanding you, if you feel +in doubt as to the _purport_ of your answer. I had imagined you were +consulting me only as to the wording of it.” + +Harriet was silent. With a little reserve of manner, Emma continued: + +“You mean to return a favourable answer, I collect.” + +“No, I do not; that is, I do not mean--What shall I do? What would you +advise me to do? Pray, dear Miss Woodhouse, tell me what I ought to do.” + +“I shall not give you any advice, Harriet. I will have nothing to do +with it. This is a point which you must settle with your feelings.” + +“I had no notion that he liked me so very much,” said Harriet, +contemplating the letter. For a little while Emma persevered in her +silence; but beginning to apprehend the bewitching flattery of that +letter might be too powerful, she thought it best to say, + +“I lay it down as a general rule, Harriet, that if a woman _doubts_ as +to whether she should accept a man or not, she certainly ought to refuse +him. If she can hesitate as to 'Yes,' she ought to say 'No' directly. +It is not a state to be safely entered into with doubtful feelings, with +half a heart. I thought it my duty as a friend, and older than yourself, +to say thus much to you. But do not imagine that I want to influence +you.” + +“Oh! no, I am sure you are a great deal too kind to--but if you would +just advise me what I had best do--No, no, I do not mean that--As +you say, one's mind ought to be quite made up--One should not be +hesitating--It is a very serious thing.--It will be safer to say 'No,' +perhaps.--Do you think I had better say 'No?'” + +“Not for the world,” said Emma, smiling graciously, “would I advise you +either way. You must be the best judge of your own happiness. If you +prefer Mr. Martin to every other person; if you think him the most +agreeable man you have ever been in company with, why should you +hesitate? You blush, Harriet.--Does any body else occur to you at +this moment under such a definition? Harriet, Harriet, do not deceive +yourself; do not be run away with by gratitude and compassion. At this +moment whom are you thinking of?” + +The symptoms were favourable.--Instead of answering, Harriet turned away +confused, and stood thoughtfully by the fire; and though the letter was +still in her hand, it was now mechanically twisted about without regard. +Emma waited the result with impatience, but not without strong hopes. At +last, with some hesitation, Harriet said-- + +“Miss Woodhouse, as you will not give me your opinion, I must do as well +as I can by myself; and I have now quite determined, and really almost +made up my mind--to refuse Mr. Martin. Do you think I am right?” + +“Perfectly, perfectly right, my dearest Harriet; you are doing just +what you ought. While you were at all in suspense I kept my feelings to +myself, but now that you are so completely decided I have no hesitation +in approving. Dear Harriet, I give myself joy of this. It would +have grieved me to lose your acquaintance, which must have been the +consequence of your marrying Mr. Martin. While you were in the smallest +degree wavering, I said nothing about it, because I would not influence; +but it would have been the loss of a friend to me. I could not have +visited Mrs. Robert Martin, of Abbey-Mill Farm. Now I am secure of you +for ever.” + +Harriet had not surmised her own danger, but the idea of it struck her +forcibly. + +“You could not have visited me!” she cried, looking aghast. “No, to be +sure you could not; but I never thought of that before. That would have +been too dreadful!--What an escape!--Dear Miss Woodhouse, I would not +give up the pleasure and honour of being intimate with you for any thing +in the world.” + +“Indeed, Harriet, it would have been a severe pang to lose you; but it +must have been. You would have thrown yourself out of all good society. +I must have given you up.” + +“Dear me!--How should I ever have borne it! It would have killed me +never to come to Hartfield any more!” + +“Dear affectionate creature!--_You_ banished to Abbey-Mill Farm!--_You_ +confined to the society of the illiterate and vulgar all your life! I +wonder how the young man could have the assurance to ask it. He must +have a pretty good opinion of himself.” + +“I do not think he is conceited either, in general,” said Harriet, her +conscience opposing such censure; “at least, he is very good natured, +and I shall always feel much obliged to him, and have a great regard +for--but that is quite a different thing from--and you know, though +he may like me, it does not follow that I should--and certainly I must +confess that since my visiting here I have seen people--and if one comes +to compare them, person and manners, there is no comparison at all, +_one_ is so very handsome and agreeable. However, I do really think Mr. +Martin a very amiable young man, and have a great opinion of him; and +his being so much attached to me--and his writing such a letter--but as +to leaving you, it is what I would not do upon any consideration.” + +“Thank you, thank you, my own sweet little friend. We will not be +parted. A woman is not to marry a man merely because she is asked, or +because he is attached to her, and can write a tolerable letter.” + +“Oh no;--and it is but a short letter too.” + +Emma felt the bad taste of her friend, but let it pass with a “very +true; and it would be a small consolation to her, for the clownish +manner which might be offending her every hour of the day, to know that +her husband could write a good letter.” + +“Oh! yes, very. Nobody cares for a letter; the thing is, to be always +happy with pleasant companions. I am quite determined to refuse him. But +how shall I do? What shall I say?” + +Emma assured her there would be no difficulty in the answer, and advised +its being written directly, which was agreed to, in the hope of her +assistance; and though Emma continued to protest against any assistance +being wanted, it was in fact given in the formation of every sentence. +The looking over his letter again, in replying to it, had such a +softening tendency, that it was particularly necessary to brace her up +with a few decisive expressions; and she was so very much concerned at +the idea of making him unhappy, and thought so much of what his mother +and sisters would think and say, and was so anxious that they should not +fancy her ungrateful, that Emma believed if the young man had come in +her way at that moment, he would have been accepted after all. + +This letter, however, was written, and sealed, and sent. The business +was finished, and Harriet safe. She was rather low all the evening, but +Emma could allow for her amiable regrets, and sometimes relieved them by +speaking of her own affection, sometimes by bringing forward the idea of +Mr. Elton. + +“I shall never be invited to Abbey-Mill again,” was said in rather a +sorrowful tone. + +“Nor, if you were, could I ever bear to part with you, my Harriet. You +are a great deal too necessary at Hartfield to be spared to Abbey-Mill.” + +“And I am sure I should never want to go there; for I am never happy but +at Hartfield.” + +Some time afterwards it was, “I think Mrs. Goddard would be very much +surprized if she knew what had happened. I am sure Miss Nash would--for +Miss Nash thinks her own sister very well married, and it is only a +linen-draper.” + +“One should be sorry to see greater pride or refinement in the teacher +of a school, Harriet. I dare say Miss Nash would envy you such an +opportunity as this of being married. Even this conquest would appear +valuable in her eyes. As to any thing superior for you, I suppose she +is quite in the dark. The attentions of a certain person can hardly be +among the tittle-tattle of Highbury yet. Hitherto I fancy you and I +are the only people to whom his looks and manners have explained +themselves.” + +Harriet blushed and smiled, and said something about wondering that +people should like her so much. The idea of Mr. Elton was certainly +cheering; but still, after a time, she was tender-hearted again towards +the rejected Mr. Martin. + +“Now he has got my letter,” said she softly. “I wonder what they are all +doing--whether his sisters know--if he is unhappy, they will be unhappy +too. I hope he will not mind it so very much.” + +“Let us think of those among our absent friends who are more cheerfully +employed,” cried Emma. “At this moment, perhaps, Mr. Elton is shewing +your picture to his mother and sisters, telling how much more beautiful +is the original, and after being asked for it five or six times, +allowing them to hear your name, your own dear name.” + +“My picture!--But he has left my picture in Bond-street.” + +“Has he so!--Then I know nothing of Mr. Elton. No, my dear little modest +Harriet, depend upon it the picture will not be in Bond-street till +just before he mounts his horse to-morrow. It is his companion all this +evening, his solace, his delight. It opens his designs to his family, +it introduces you among them, it diffuses through the party those +pleasantest feelings of our nature, eager curiosity and warm +prepossession. How cheerful, how animated, how suspicious, how busy +their imaginations all are!” + +Harriet smiled again, and her smiles grew stronger. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Harriet slept at Hartfield that night. For some weeks past she had been +spending more than half her time there, and gradually getting to have +a bed-room appropriated to herself; and Emma judged it best in every +respect, safest and kindest, to keep her with them as much as possible +just at present. She was obliged to go the next morning for an hour or +two to Mrs. Goddard's, but it was then to be settled that she should +return to Hartfield, to make a regular visit of some days. + +While she was gone, Mr. Knightley called, and sat some time with Mr. +Woodhouse and Emma, till Mr. Woodhouse, who had previously made up his +mind to walk out, was persuaded by his daughter not to defer it, and was +induced by the entreaties of both, though against the scruples of his +own civility, to leave Mr. Knightley for that purpose. Mr. Knightley, +who had nothing of ceremony about him, was offering by his short, +decided answers, an amusing contrast to the protracted apologies and +civil hesitations of the other. + +“Well, I believe, if you will excuse me, Mr. Knightley, if you will not +consider me as doing a very rude thing, I shall take Emma's advice and +go out for a quarter of an hour. As the sun is out, I believe I had +better take my three turns while I can. I treat you without ceremony, +Mr. Knightley. We invalids think we are privileged people.” + +“My dear sir, do not make a stranger of me.” + +“I leave an excellent substitute in my daughter. Emma will be happy to +entertain you. And therefore I think I will beg your excuse and take my +three turns--my winter walk.” + +“You cannot do better, sir.” + +“I would ask for the pleasure of your company, Mr. Knightley, but I am a +very slow walker, and my pace would be tedious to you; and, besides, you +have another long walk before you, to Donwell Abbey.” + +“Thank you, sir, thank you; I am going this moment myself; and I think +the sooner _you_ go the better. I will fetch your greatcoat and open the +garden door for you.” + +Mr. Woodhouse at last was off; but Mr. Knightley, instead of being +immediately off likewise, sat down again, seemingly inclined for more +chat. He began speaking of Harriet, and speaking of her with more +voluntary praise than Emma had ever heard before. + +“I cannot rate her beauty as you do,” said he; “but she is a +pretty little creature, and I am inclined to think very well of her +disposition. Her character depends upon those she is with; but in good +hands she will turn out a valuable woman.” + +“I am glad you think so; and the good hands, I hope, may not be +wanting.” + +“Come,” said he, “you are anxious for a compliment, so I will tell you +that you have improved her. You have cured her of her school-girl's +giggle; she really does you credit.” + +“Thank you. I should be mortified indeed if I did not believe I had been +of some use; but it is not every body who will bestow praise where they +may. _You_ do not often overpower me with it.” + +“You are expecting her again, you say, this morning?” + +“Almost every moment. She has been gone longer already than she +intended.” + +“Something has happened to delay her; some visitors perhaps.” + +“Highbury gossips!--Tiresome wretches!” + +“Harriet may not consider every body tiresome that you would.” + +Emma knew this was too true for contradiction, and therefore said +nothing. He presently added, with a smile, + +“I do not pretend to fix on times or places, but I must tell you that +I have good reason to believe your little friend will soon hear of +something to her advantage.” + +“Indeed! how so? of what sort?” + +“A very serious sort, I assure you;” still smiling. + +“Very serious! I can think of but one thing--Who is in love with her? +Who makes you their confidant?” + +Emma was more than half in hopes of Mr. Elton's having dropt a hint. +Mr. Knightley was a sort of general friend and adviser, and she knew Mr. +Elton looked up to him. + +“I have reason to think,” he replied, “that Harriet Smith will soon have +an offer of marriage, and from a most unexceptionable quarter:--Robert +Martin is the man. Her visit to Abbey-Mill, this summer, seems to have +done his business. He is desperately in love and means to marry her.” + +“He is very obliging,” said Emma; “but is he sure that Harriet means to +marry him?” + +“Well, well, means to make her an offer then. Will that do? He came to +the Abbey two evenings ago, on purpose to consult me about it. He knows +I have a thorough regard for him and all his family, and, I believe, +considers me as one of his best friends. He came to ask me whether +I thought it would be imprudent in him to settle so early; whether +I thought her too young: in short, whether I approved his choice +altogether; having some apprehension perhaps of her being considered +(especially since _your_ making so much of her) as in a line of society +above him. I was very much pleased with all that he said. I never hear +better sense from any one than Robert Martin. He always speaks to the +purpose; open, straightforward, and very well judging. He told me every +thing; his circumstances and plans, and what they all proposed doing in +the event of his marriage. He is an excellent young man, both as son and +brother. I had no hesitation in advising him to marry. He proved to me +that he could afford it; and that being the case, I was convinced he +could not do better. I praised the fair lady too, and altogether sent +him away very happy. If he had never esteemed my opinion before, he +would have thought highly of me then; and, I dare say, left the house +thinking me the best friend and counsellor man ever had. This happened +the night before last. Now, as we may fairly suppose, he would not allow +much time to pass before he spoke to the lady, and as he does not appear +to have spoken yesterday, it is not unlikely that he should be at Mrs. +Goddard's to-day; and she may be detained by a visitor, without thinking +him at all a tiresome wretch.” + +“Pray, Mr. Knightley,” said Emma, who had been smiling to herself +through a great part of this speech, “how do you know that Mr. Martin +did not speak yesterday?” + +“Certainly,” replied he, surprized, “I do not absolutely know it; but it +may be inferred. Was not she the whole day with you?” + +“Come,” said she, “I will tell you something, in return for what +you have told me. He did speak yesterday--that is, he wrote, and was +refused.” + +This was obliged to be repeated before it could be believed; and Mr. +Knightley actually looked red with surprize and displeasure, as he stood +up, in tall indignation, and said, + +“Then she is a greater simpleton than I ever believed her. What is the +foolish girl about?” + +“Oh! to be sure,” cried Emma, “it is always incomprehensible to a man +that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage. A man always +imagines a woman to be ready for any body who asks her.” + +“Nonsense! a man does not imagine any such thing. But what is the +meaning of this? Harriet Smith refuse Robert Martin? madness, if it is +so; but I hope you are mistaken.” + +“I saw her answer!--nothing could be clearer.” + +“You saw her answer!--you wrote her answer too. Emma, this is your +doing. You persuaded her to refuse him.” + +“And if I did, (which, however, I am far from allowing) I should not +feel that I had done wrong. Mr. Martin is a very respectable young man, +but I cannot admit him to be Harriet's equal; and am rather surprized +indeed that he should have ventured to address her. By your account, he +does seem to have had some scruples. It is a pity that they were ever +got over.” + +“Not Harriet's equal!” exclaimed Mr. Knightley loudly and warmly; and +with calmer asperity, added, a few moments afterwards, “No, he is +not her equal indeed, for he is as much her superior in sense as in +situation. Emma, your infatuation about that girl blinds you. What are +Harriet Smith's claims, either of birth, nature or education, to any +connexion higher than Robert Martin? She is the natural daughter of +nobody knows whom, with probably no settled provision at all, and +certainly no respectable relations. She is known only as parlour-boarder +at a common school. She is not a sensible girl, nor a girl of any +information. She has been taught nothing useful, and is too young and +too simple to have acquired any thing herself. At her age she can have +no experience, and with her little wit, is not very likely ever to have +any that can avail her. She is pretty, and she is good tempered, and +that is all. My only scruple in advising the match was on his account, +as being beneath his deserts, and a bad connexion for him. I felt that, +as to fortune, in all probability he might do much better; and that as +to a rational companion or useful helpmate, he could not do worse. But I +could not reason so to a man in love, and was willing to trust to there +being no harm in her, to her having that sort of disposition, which, in +good hands, like his, might be easily led aright and turn out very well. +The advantage of the match I felt to be all on her side; and had not the +smallest doubt (nor have I now) that there would be a general cry-out +upon her extreme good luck. Even _your_ satisfaction I made sure of. +It crossed my mind immediately that you would not regret your friend's +leaving Highbury, for the sake of her being settled so well. I remember +saying to myself, 'Even Emma, with all her partiality for Harriet, will +think this a good match.'” + +“I cannot help wondering at your knowing so little of Emma as to say any +such thing. What! think a farmer, (and with all his sense and all his +merit Mr. Martin is nothing more,) a good match for my intimate friend! +Not regret her leaving Highbury for the sake of marrying a man whom +I could never admit as an acquaintance of my own! I wonder you should +think it possible for me to have such feelings. I assure you mine are +very different. I must think your statement by no means fair. You are +not just to Harriet's claims. They would be estimated very differently +by others as well as myself; Mr. Martin may be the richest of the two, +but he is undoubtedly her inferior as to rank in society.--The sphere in +which she moves is much above his.--It would be a degradation.” + +“A degradation to illegitimacy and ignorance, to be married to a +respectable, intelligent gentleman-farmer!” + +“As to the circumstances of her birth, though in a legal sense she may +be called Nobody, it will not hold in common sense. She is not to pay +for the offence of others, by being held below the level of those with +whom she is brought up.--There can scarcely be a doubt that her father +is a gentleman--and a gentleman of fortune.--Her allowance is +very liberal; nothing has ever been grudged for her improvement or +comfort.--That she is a gentleman's daughter, is indubitable to me; that +she associates with gentlemen's daughters, no one, I apprehend, will +deny.--She is superior to Mr. Robert Martin.” + +“Whoever might be her parents,” said Mr. Knightley, “whoever may have +had the charge of her, it does not appear to have been any part of +their plan to introduce her into what you would call good society. After +receiving a very indifferent education she is left in Mrs. Goddard's +hands to shift as she can;--to move, in short, in Mrs. Goddard's line, +to have Mrs. Goddard's acquaintance. Her friends evidently thought +this good enough for her; and it _was_ good enough. She desired nothing +better herself. Till you chose to turn her into a friend, her mind had +no distaste for her own set, nor any ambition beyond it. She was as +happy as possible with the Martins in the summer. She had no sense of +superiority then. If she has it now, you have given it. You have been no +friend to Harriet Smith, Emma. Robert Martin would never have proceeded +so far, if he had not felt persuaded of her not being disinclined to +him. I know him well. He has too much real feeling to address any +woman on the haphazard of selfish passion. And as to conceit, he is +the farthest from it of any man I know. Depend upon it he had +encouragement.” + +It was most convenient to Emma not to make a direct reply to this +assertion; she chose rather to take up her own line of the subject +again. + +“You are a very warm friend to Mr. Martin; but, as I said before, +are unjust to Harriet. Harriet's claims to marry well are not so +contemptible as you represent them. She is not a clever girl, but she +has better sense than you are aware of, and does not deserve to have her +understanding spoken of so slightingly. Waiving that point, however, and +supposing her to be, as you describe her, only pretty and good-natured, +let me tell you, that in the degree she possesses them, they are not +trivial recommendations to the world in general, for she is, in fact, a +beautiful girl, and must be thought so by ninety-nine people out of an +hundred; and till it appears that men are much more philosophic on the +subject of beauty than they are generally supposed; till they do fall +in love with well-informed minds instead of handsome faces, a girl, with +such loveliness as Harriet, has a certainty of being admired and sought +after, of having the power of chusing from among many, consequently a +claim to be nice. Her good-nature, too, is not so very slight a claim, +comprehending, as it does, real, thorough sweetness of temper and +manner, a very humble opinion of herself, and a great readiness to +be pleased with other people. I am very much mistaken if your sex in +general would not think such beauty, and such temper, the highest claims +a woman could possess.” + +“Upon my word, Emma, to hear you abusing the reason you have, is almost +enough to make me think so too. Better be without sense, than misapply +it as you do.” + +“To be sure!” cried she playfully. “I know _that_ is the feeling of +you all. I know that such a girl as Harriet is exactly what every +man delights in--what at once bewitches his senses and satisfies his +judgment. Oh! Harriet may pick and chuse. Were you, yourself, ever to +marry, she is the very woman for you. And is she, at seventeen, just +entering into life, just beginning to be known, to be wondered at +because she does not accept the first offer she receives? No--pray let +her have time to look about her.” + +“I have always thought it a very foolish intimacy,” said Mr. Knightley +presently, “though I have kept my thoughts to myself; but I now perceive +that it will be a very unfortunate one for Harriet. You will puff her up +with such ideas of her own beauty, and of what she has a claim to, that, +in a little while, nobody within her reach will be good enough for her. +Vanity working on a weak head, produces every sort of mischief. Nothing +so easy as for a young lady to raise her expectations too high. Miss +Harriet Smith may not find offers of marriage flow in so fast, though +she is a very pretty girl. Men of sense, whatever you may chuse to +say, do not want silly wives. Men of family would not be very fond of +connecting themselves with a girl of such obscurity--and most prudent +men would be afraid of the inconvenience and disgrace they might be +involved in, when the mystery of her parentage came to be revealed. Let +her marry Robert Martin, and she is safe, respectable, and happy for +ever; but if you encourage her to expect to marry greatly, and teach her +to be satisfied with nothing less than a man of consequence and large +fortune, she may be a parlour-boarder at Mrs. Goddard's all the rest +of her life--or, at least, (for Harriet Smith is a girl who will marry +somebody or other,) till she grow desperate, and is glad to catch at the +old writing-master's son.” + +“We think so very differently on this point, Mr. Knightley, that there +can be no use in canvassing it. We shall only be making each other more +angry. But as to my _letting_ her marry Robert Martin, it is impossible; +she has refused him, and so decidedly, I think, as must prevent any +second application. She must abide by the evil of having refused him, +whatever it may be; and as to the refusal itself, I will not pretend to +say that I might not influence her a little; but I assure you there +was very little for me or for any body to do. His appearance is so much +against him, and his manner so bad, that if she ever were disposed to +favour him, she is not now. I can imagine, that before she had seen +any body superior, she might tolerate him. He was the brother of her +friends, and he took pains to please her; and altogether, having seen +nobody better (that must have been his great assistant) she might not, +while she was at Abbey-Mill, find him disagreeable. But the case +is altered now. She knows now what gentlemen are; and nothing but a +gentleman in education and manner has any chance with Harriet.” + +“Nonsense, errant nonsense, as ever was talked!” cried Mr. +Knightley.--“Robert Martin's manners have sense, sincerity, and +good-humour to recommend them; and his mind has more true gentility than +Harriet Smith could understand.” + +Emma made no answer, and tried to look cheerfully unconcerned, but was +really feeling uncomfortable and wanting him very much to be gone. She +did not repent what she had done; she still thought herself a better +judge of such a point of female right and refinement than he could be; +but yet she had a sort of habitual respect for his judgment in general, +which made her dislike having it so loudly against her; and to have him +sitting just opposite to her in angry state, was very disagreeable. +Some minutes passed in this unpleasant silence, with only one attempt +on Emma's side to talk of the weather, but he made no answer. He was +thinking. The result of his thoughts appeared at last in these words. + +“Robert Martin has no great loss--if he can but think so; and I hope it +will not be long before he does. Your views for Harriet are best known +to yourself; but as you make no secret of your love of match-making, it +is fair to suppose that views, and plans, and projects you have;--and as +a friend I shall just hint to you that if Elton is the man, I think it +will be all labour in vain.” + +Emma laughed and disclaimed. He continued, + +“Depend upon it, Elton will not do. Elton is a very good sort of man, +and a very respectable vicar of Highbury, but not at all likely to make +an imprudent match. He knows the value of a good income as well as any +body. Elton may talk sentimentally, but he will act rationally. He is +as well acquainted with his own claims, as you can be with Harriet's. +He knows that he is a very handsome young man, and a great favourite +wherever he goes; and from his general way of talking in unreserved +moments, when there are only men present, I am convinced that he does +not mean to throw himself away. I have heard him speak with great +animation of a large family of young ladies that his sisters are +intimate with, who have all twenty thousand pounds apiece.” + +“I am very much obliged to you,” said Emma, laughing again. “If I had +set my heart on Mr. Elton's marrying Harriet, it would have been very +kind to open my eyes; but at present I only want to keep Harriet to +myself. I have done with match-making indeed. I could never hope to +equal my own doings at Randalls. I shall leave off while I am well.” + +“Good morning to you,”--said he, rising and walking off abruptly. He was +very much vexed. He felt the disappointment of the young man, and was +mortified to have been the means of promoting it, by the sanction he had +given; and the part which he was persuaded Emma had taken in the affair, +was provoking him exceedingly. + +Emma remained in a state of vexation too; but there was more +indistinctness in the causes of her's, than in his. She did not always +feel so absolutely satisfied with herself, so entirely convinced that +her opinions were right and her adversary's wrong, as Mr. Knightley. He +walked off in more complete self-approbation than he left for her. She +was not so materially cast down, however, but that a little time and +the return of Harriet were very adequate restoratives. Harriet's staying +away so long was beginning to make her uneasy. The possibility of the +young man's coming to Mrs. Goddard's that morning, and meeting with +Harriet and pleading his own cause, gave alarming ideas. The dread +of such a failure after all became the prominent uneasiness; and when +Harriet appeared, and in very good spirits, and without having any +such reason to give for her long absence, she felt a satisfaction which +settled her with her own mind, and convinced her, that let Mr. +Knightley think or say what he would, she had done nothing which woman's +friendship and woman's feelings would not justify. + +He had frightened her a little about Mr. Elton; but when she considered +that Mr. Knightley could not have observed him as she had done, neither +with the interest, nor (she must be allowed to tell herself, in spite of +Mr. Knightley's pretensions) with the skill of such an observer on such +a question as herself, that he had spoken it hastily and in anger, she +was able to believe, that he had rather said what he wished resentfully +to be true, than what he knew any thing about. He certainly might have +heard Mr. Elton speak with more unreserve than she had ever done, and +Mr. Elton might not be of an imprudent, inconsiderate disposition as to +money matters; he might naturally be rather attentive than otherwise +to them; but then, Mr. Knightley did not make due allowance for the +influence of a strong passion at war with all interested motives. Mr. +Knightley saw no such passion, and of course thought nothing of its +effects; but she saw too much of it to feel a doubt of its overcoming +any hesitations that a reasonable prudence might originally suggest; and +more than a reasonable, becoming degree of prudence, she was very sure +did not belong to Mr. Elton. + +Harriet's cheerful look and manner established hers: she came back, not +to think of Mr. Martin, but to talk of Mr. Elton. Miss Nash had been +telling her something, which she repeated immediately with great +delight. Mr. Perry had been to Mrs. Goddard's to attend a sick child, +and Miss Nash had seen him, and he had told Miss Nash, that as he was +coming back yesterday from Clayton Park, he had met Mr. Elton, and +found to his great surprize, that Mr. Elton was actually on his road +to London, and not meaning to return till the morrow, though it was the +whist-club night, which he had been never known to miss before; and Mr. +Perry had remonstrated with him about it, and told him how shabby it +was in him, their best player, to absent himself, and tried very much to +persuade him to put off his journey only one day; but it would not +do; Mr. Elton had been determined to go on, and had said in a _very_ +_particular_ way indeed, that he was going on business which he would +not put off for any inducement in the world; and something about a +very enviable commission, and being the bearer of something exceedingly +precious. Mr. Perry could not quite understand him, but he was very sure +there must be a _lady_ in the case, and he told him so; and Mr. Elton +only looked very conscious and smiling, and rode off in great spirits. +Miss Nash had told her all this, and had talked a great deal more about +Mr. Elton; and said, looking so very significantly at her, “that she did +not pretend to understand what his business might be, but she only +knew that any woman whom Mr. Elton could prefer, she should think the +luckiest woman in the world; for, beyond a doubt, Mr. Elton had not his +equal for beauty or agreeableness.” + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Mr. Knightley might quarrel with her, but Emma could not quarrel with +herself. He was so much displeased, that it was longer than usual before +he came to Hartfield again; and when they did meet, his grave looks +shewed that she was not forgiven. She was sorry, but could not repent. +On the contrary, her plans and proceedings were more and more justified +and endeared to her by the general appearances of the next few days. + +The Picture, elegantly framed, came safely to hand soon after Mr. +Elton's return, and being hung over the mantelpiece of the common +sitting-room, he got up to look at it, and sighed out his half sentences +of admiration just as he ought; and as for Harriet's feelings, they were +visibly forming themselves into as strong and steady an attachment as +her youth and sort of mind admitted. Emma was soon perfectly satisfied +of Mr. Martin's being no otherwise remembered, than as he furnished a +contrast with Mr. Elton, of the utmost advantage to the latter. + +Her views of improving her little friend's mind, by a great deal of +useful reading and conversation, had never yet led to more than a few +first chapters, and the intention of going on to-morrow. It was much +easier to chat than to study; much pleasanter to let her imagination +range and work at Harriet's fortune, than to be labouring to enlarge +her comprehension or exercise it on sober facts; and the only literary +pursuit which engaged Harriet at present, the only mental provision she +was making for the evening of life, was the collecting and transcribing +all the riddles of every sort that she could meet with, into a thin +quarto of hot-pressed paper, made up by her friend, and ornamented with +ciphers and trophies. + +In this age of literature, such collections on a very grand scale are +not uncommon. Miss Nash, head-teacher at Mrs. Goddard's, had written out +at least three hundred; and Harriet, who had taken the first hint of it +from her, hoped, with Miss Woodhouse's help, to get a great many more. +Emma assisted with her invention, memory and taste; and as Harriet wrote +a very pretty hand, it was likely to be an arrangement of the first +order, in form as well as quantity. + +Mr. Woodhouse was almost as much interested in the business as the +girls, and tried very often to recollect something worth their putting +in. “So many clever riddles as there used to be when he was young--he +wondered he could not remember them! but he hoped he should in time.” + And it always ended in “Kitty, a fair but frozen maid.” + +His good friend Perry, too, whom he had spoken to on the subject, +did not at present recollect any thing of the riddle kind; but he +had desired Perry to be upon the watch, and as he went about so much, +something, he thought, might come from that quarter. + +It was by no means his daughter's wish that the intellects of Highbury +in general should be put under requisition. Mr. Elton was the only one +whose assistance she asked. He was invited to contribute any really good +enigmas, charades, or conundrums that he might recollect; and she had +the pleasure of seeing him most intently at work with his recollections; +and at the same time, as she could perceive, most earnestly careful that +nothing ungallant, nothing that did not breathe a compliment to the +sex should pass his lips. They owed to him their two or three politest +puzzles; and the joy and exultation with which at last he recalled, and +rather sentimentally recited, that well-known charade, + + My first doth affliction denote, + Which my second is destin'd to feel + And my whole is the best antidote + That affliction to soften and heal.-- + +made her quite sorry to acknowledge that they had transcribed it some +pages ago already. + +“Why will not you write one yourself for us, Mr. Elton?” said she; “that +is the only security for its freshness; and nothing could be easier to +you.” + +“Oh no! he had never written, hardly ever, any thing of the kind in his +life. The stupidest fellow! He was afraid not even Miss Woodhouse”--he +stopt a moment--“or Miss Smith could inspire him.” + +The very next day however produced some proof of inspiration. He +called for a few moments, just to leave a piece of paper on the table +containing, as he said, a charade, which a friend of his had addressed +to a young lady, the object of his admiration, but which, from his +manner, Emma was immediately convinced must be his own. + +“I do not offer it for Miss Smith's collection,” said he. “Being my +friend's, I have no right to expose it in any degree to the public eye, +but perhaps you may not dislike looking at it.” + +The speech was more to Emma than to Harriet, which Emma could +understand. There was deep consciousness about him, and he found +it easier to meet her eye than her friend's. He was gone the next +moment:--after another moment's pause, + +“Take it,” said Emma, smiling, and pushing the paper towards +Harriet--“it is for you. Take your own.” + +But Harriet was in a tremor, and could not touch it; and Emma, never +loth to be first, was obliged to examine it herself. + + To Miss-- + + CHARADE. + + My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings, + Lords of the earth! their luxury and ease. + Another view of man, my second brings, + Behold him there, the monarch of the seas! + + But ah! united, what reverse we have! + Man's boasted power and freedom, all are flown; + Lord of the earth and sea, he bends a slave, + And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone. + + Thy ready wit the word will soon supply, + May its approval beam in that soft eye! + +She cast her eye over it, pondered, caught the meaning, read it through +again to be quite certain, and quite mistress of the lines, and then +passing it to Harriet, sat happily smiling, and saying to herself, while +Harriet was puzzling over the paper in all the confusion of hope and +dulness, “Very well, Mr. Elton, very well indeed. I have read worse +charades. _Courtship_--a very good hint. I give you credit for it. This +is feeling your way. This is saying very plainly--'Pray, Miss Smith, +give me leave to pay my addresses to you. Approve my charade and my +intentions in the same glance.' + + May its approval beam in that soft eye! + +Harriet exactly. Soft is the very word for her eye--of all epithets, the +justest that could be given. + + Thy ready wit the word will soon supply. + +Humph--Harriet's ready wit! All the better. A man must be very much in +love, indeed, to describe her so. Ah! Mr. Knightley, I wish you had the +benefit of this; I think this would convince you. For once in your life +you would be obliged to own yourself mistaken. An excellent charade +indeed! and very much to the purpose. Things must come to a crisis soon +now.” + +She was obliged to break off from these very pleasant observations, +which were otherwise of a sort to run into great length, by the +eagerness of Harriet's wondering questions. + +“What can it be, Miss Woodhouse?--what can it be? I have not an idea--I +cannot guess it in the least. What can it possibly be? Do try to find +it out, Miss Woodhouse. Do help me. I never saw any thing so hard. Is it +kingdom? I wonder who the friend was--and who could be the young lady. +Do you think it is a good one? Can it be woman? + + And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone. + +Can it be Neptune? + + Behold him there, the monarch of the seas! + +Or a trident? or a mermaid? or a shark? Oh, no! shark is only one +syllable. It must be very clever, or he would not have brought it. Oh! +Miss Woodhouse, do you think we shall ever find it out?” + +“Mermaids and sharks! Nonsense! My dear Harriet, what are you thinking +of? Where would be the use of his bringing us a charade made by a friend +upon a mermaid or a shark? Give me the paper and listen. + +For Miss ------, read Miss Smith. + + My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings, + Lords of the earth! their luxury and ease. + +That is _court_. + + Another view of man, my second brings; + Behold him there, the monarch of the seas! + +That is _ship_;--plain as it can be.--Now for the cream. + + But ah! united, (_courtship_, you know,) what reverse we have! + Man's boasted power and freedom, all are flown. + Lord of the earth and sea, he bends a slave, + And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone. + +A very proper compliment!--and then follows the application, which +I think, my dear Harriet, you cannot find much difficulty in +comprehending. Read it in comfort to yourself. There can be no doubt of +its being written for you and to you.” + +Harriet could not long resist so delightful a persuasion. She read +the concluding lines, and was all flutter and happiness. She could not +speak. But she was not wanted to speak. It was enough for her to feel. +Emma spoke for her. + +“There is so pointed, and so particular a meaning in this compliment,” + said she, “that I cannot have a doubt as to Mr. Elton's intentions. You +are his object--and you will soon receive the completest proof of it. I +thought it must be so. I thought I could not be so deceived; but now, it +is clear; the state of his mind is as clear and decided, as my wishes on +the subject have been ever since I knew you. Yes, Harriet, just so long +have I been wanting the very circumstance to happen that has happened. +I could never tell whether an attachment between you and Mr. Elton were +most desirable or most natural. Its probability and its eligibility have +really so equalled each other! I am very happy. I congratulate you, my +dear Harriet, with all my heart. This is an attachment which a woman may +well feel pride in creating. This is a connexion which offers nothing +but good. It will give you every thing that you want--consideration, +independence, a proper home--it will fix you in the centre of all your +real friends, close to Hartfield and to me, and confirm our intimacy +for ever. This, Harriet, is an alliance which can never raise a blush in +either of us.” + +“Dear Miss Woodhouse!”--and “Dear Miss Woodhouse,” was all that Harriet, +with many tender embraces could articulate at first; but when they did +arrive at something more like conversation, it was sufficiently clear to +her friend that she saw, felt, anticipated, and remembered just as she +ought. Mr. Elton's superiority had very ample acknowledgment. + +“Whatever you say is always right,” cried Harriet, “and therefore I +suppose, and believe, and hope it must be so; but otherwise I could not +have imagined it. It is so much beyond any thing I deserve. Mr. Elton, +who might marry any body! There cannot be two opinions about _him_. He +is so very superior. Only think of those sweet verses--'To Miss ------.' +Dear me, how clever!--Could it really be meant for me?” + +“I cannot make a question, or listen to a question about that. It is a +certainty. Receive it on my judgment. It is a sort of prologue to +the play, a motto to the chapter; and will be soon followed by +matter-of-fact prose.” + +“It is a sort of thing which nobody could have expected. I am sure, +a month ago, I had no more idea myself!--The strangest things do take +place!” + +“When Miss Smiths and Mr. Eltons get acquainted--they do indeed--and +really it is strange; it is out of the common course that what is so +evidently, so palpably desirable--what courts the pre-arrangement of +other people, should so immediately shape itself into the proper form. +You and Mr. Elton are by situation called together; you belong to one +another by every circumstance of your respective homes. Your marrying +will be equal to the match at Randalls. There does seem to be a +something in the air of Hartfield which gives love exactly the right +direction, and sends it into the very channel where it ought to flow. + + The course of true love never did run smooth-- + +A Hartfield edition of Shakespeare would have a long note on that +passage.” + +“That Mr. Elton should really be in love with me,--me, of all people, +who did not know him, to speak to him, at Michaelmas! And he, the very +handsomest man that ever was, and a man that every body looks up to, +quite like Mr. Knightley! His company so sought after, that every body +says he need not eat a single meal by himself if he does not chuse it; +that he has more invitations than there are days in the week. And so +excellent in the Church! Miss Nash has put down all the texts he has +ever preached from since he came to Highbury. Dear me! When I look back +to the first time I saw him! How little did I think!--The two Abbots and +I ran into the front room and peeped through the blind when we heard he +was going by, and Miss Nash came and scolded us away, and staid to look +through herself; however, she called me back presently, and let me +look too, which was very good-natured. And how beautiful we thought he +looked! He was arm-in-arm with Mr. Cole.” + +“This is an alliance which, whoever--whatever your friends may be, must +be agreeable to them, provided at least they have common sense; and we +are not to be addressing our conduct to fools. If they are anxious to +see you _happily_ married, here is a man whose amiable character gives +every assurance of it;--if they wish to have you settled in the same +country and circle which they have chosen to place you in, here it will +be accomplished; and if their only object is that you should, in the +common phrase, be _well_ married, here is the comfortable fortune, the +respectable establishment, the rise in the world which must satisfy +them.” + +“Yes, very true. How nicely you talk; I love to hear you. You understand +every thing. You and Mr. Elton are one as clever as the other. This +charade!--If I had studied a twelvemonth, I could never have made any +thing like it.” + +“I thought he meant to try his skill, by his manner of declining it +yesterday.” + +“I do think it is, without exception, the best charade I ever read.” + +“I never read one more to the purpose, certainly.” + +“It is as long again as almost all we have had before.” + +“I do not consider its length as particularly in its favour. Such things +in general cannot be too short.” + +Harriet was too intent on the lines to hear. The most satisfactory +comparisons were rising in her mind. + +“It is one thing,” said she, presently--her cheeks in a glow--“to have +very good sense in a common way, like every body else, and if there is +any thing to say, to sit down and write a letter, and say just what you +must, in a short way; and another, to write verses and charades like +this.” + +Emma could not have desired a more spirited rejection of Mr. Martin's +prose. + +“Such sweet lines!” continued Harriet--“these two last!--But how shall I +ever be able to return the paper, or say I have found it out?--Oh! Miss +Woodhouse, what can we do about that?” + +“Leave it to me. You do nothing. He will be here this evening, I dare +say, and then I will give it him back, and some nonsense or other will +pass between us, and you shall not be committed.--Your soft eyes shall +chuse their own time for beaming. Trust to me.” + +“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what a pity that I must not write this beautiful +charade into my book! I am sure I have not got one half so good.” + +“Leave out the two last lines, and there is no reason why you should not +write it into your book.” + +“Oh! but those two lines are”-- + +--“The best of all. Granted;--for private enjoyment; and for private +enjoyment keep them. They are not at all the less written you know, +because you divide them. The couplet does not cease to be, nor does its +meaning change. But take it away, and all _appropriation_ ceases, and a +very pretty gallant charade remains, fit for any collection. Depend upon +it, he would not like to have his charade slighted, much better than his +passion. A poet in love must be encouraged in both capacities, or +neither. Give me the book, I will write it down, and then there can be +no possible reflection on you.” + +Harriet submitted, though her mind could hardly separate the parts, +so as to feel quite sure that her friend were not writing down a +declaration of love. It seemed too precious an offering for any degree +of publicity. + +“I shall never let that book go out of my own hands,” said she. + +“Very well,” replied Emma; “a most natural feeling; and the longer it +lasts, the better I shall be pleased. But here is my father coming: you +will not object to my reading the charade to him. It will be giving him +so much pleasure! He loves any thing of the sort, and especially any +thing that pays woman a compliment. He has the tenderest spirit of +gallantry towards us all!--You must let me read it to him.” + +Harriet looked grave. + +“My dear Harriet, you must not refine too much upon this charade.--You +will betray your feelings improperly, if you are too conscious and too +quick, and appear to affix more meaning, or even quite all the meaning +which may be affixed to it. Do not be overpowered by such a little +tribute of admiration. If he had been anxious for secrecy, he would not +have left the paper while I was by; but he rather pushed it towards me +than towards you. Do not let us be too solemn on the business. He has +encouragement enough to proceed, without our sighing out our souls over +this charade.” + +“Oh! no--I hope I shall not be ridiculous about it. Do as you please.” + +Mr. Woodhouse came in, and very soon led to the subject again, by the +recurrence of his very frequent inquiry of “Well, my dears, how does +your book go on?--Have you got any thing fresh?” + +“Yes, papa; we have something to read you, something quite fresh. A +piece of paper was found on the table this morning--(dropt, we suppose, +by a fairy)--containing a very pretty charade, and we have just copied +it in.” + +She read it to him, just as he liked to have any thing read, slowly and +distinctly, and two or three times over, with explanations of every +part as she proceeded--and he was very much pleased, and, as she had +foreseen, especially struck with the complimentary conclusion. + +“Aye, that's very just, indeed, that's very properly said. Very true. +'Woman, lovely woman.' It is such a pretty charade, my dear, that I +can easily guess what fairy brought it.--Nobody could have written so +prettily, but you, Emma.” + +Emma only nodded, and smiled.--After a little thinking, and a very +tender sigh, he added, + +“Ah! it is no difficulty to see who you take after! Your dear mother +was so clever at all those things! If I had but her memory! But I can +remember nothing;--not even that particular riddle which you have +heard me mention; I can only recollect the first stanza; and there are +several. + + Kitty, a fair but frozen maid, + Kindled a flame I yet deplore, + The hood-wink'd boy I called to aid, + Though of his near approach afraid, + So fatal to my suit before. + +And that is all that I can recollect of it--but it is very clever all +the way through. But I think, my dear, you said you had got it.” + +“Yes, papa, it is written out in our second page. We copied it from the +Elegant Extracts. It was Garrick's, you know.” + +“Aye, very true.--I wish I could recollect more of it. + + Kitty, a fair but frozen maid. + +The name makes me think of poor Isabella; for she was very near being +christened Catherine after her grandmama. I hope we shall have her here +next week. Have you thought, my dear, where you shall put her--and what +room there will be for the children?” + +“Oh! yes--she will have her own room, of course; the room she always +has;--and there is the nursery for the children,--just as usual, you +know. Why should there be any change?” + +“I do not know, my dear--but it is so long since she was here!--not +since last Easter, and then only for a few days.--Mr. John Knightley's +being a lawyer is very inconvenient.--Poor Isabella!--she is sadly taken +away from us all!--and how sorry she will be when she comes, not to see +Miss Taylor here!” + +“She will not be surprized, papa, at least.” + +“I do not know, my dear. I am sure I was very much surprized when I +first heard she was going to be married.” + +“We must ask Mr. and Mrs. Weston to dine with us, while Isabella is +here.” + +“Yes, my dear, if there is time.--But--(in a very depressed tone)--she +is coming for only one week. There will not be time for any thing.” + +“It is unfortunate that they cannot stay longer--but it seems a case of +necessity. Mr. John Knightley must be in town again on the 28th, and we +ought to be thankful, papa, that we are to have the whole of the time +they can give to the country, that two or three days are not to be taken +out for the Abbey. Mr. Knightley promises to give up his claim this +Christmas--though you know it is longer since they were with him, than +with us.” + +“It would be very hard, indeed, my dear, if poor Isabella were to be +anywhere but at Hartfield.” + +Mr. Woodhouse could never allow for Mr. Knightley's claims on his +brother, or any body's claims on Isabella, except his own. He sat musing +a little while, and then said, + +“But I do not see why poor Isabella should be obliged to go back so +soon, though he does. I think, Emma, I shall try and persuade her to +stay longer with us. She and the children might stay very well.” + +“Ah! papa--that is what you never have been able to accomplish, and I +do not think you ever will. Isabella cannot bear to stay behind her +husband.” + +This was too true for contradiction. Unwelcome as it was, Mr. Woodhouse +could only give a submissive sigh; and as Emma saw his spirits affected +by the idea of his daughter's attachment to her husband, she immediately +led to such a branch of the subject as must raise them. + +“Harriet must give us as much of her company as she can while my brother +and sister are here. I am sure she will be pleased with the children. +We are very proud of the children, are not we, papa? I wonder which she +will think the handsomest, Henry or John?” + +“Aye, I wonder which she will. Poor little dears, how glad they will be +to come. They are very fond of being at Hartfield, Harriet.” + +“I dare say they are, sir. I am sure I do not know who is not.” + +“Henry is a fine boy, but John is very like his mama. Henry is the +eldest, he was named after me, not after his father. John, the second, +is named after his father. Some people are surprized, I believe, that +the eldest was not, but Isabella would have him called Henry, which I +thought very pretty of her. And he is a very clever boy, indeed. They +are all remarkably clever; and they have so many pretty ways. They will +come and stand by my chair, and say, 'Grandpapa, can you give me a bit +of string?' and once Henry asked me for a knife, but I told him knives +were only made for grandpapas. I think their father is too rough with +them very often.” + +“He appears rough to you,” said Emma, “because you are so very gentle +yourself; but if you could compare him with other papas, you would not +think him rough. He wishes his boys to be active and hardy; and if +they misbehave, can give them a sharp word now and then; but he is an +affectionate father--certainly Mr. John Knightley is an affectionate +father. The children are all fond of him.” + +“And then their uncle comes in, and tosses them up to the ceiling in a +very frightful way!” + +“But they like it, papa; there is nothing they like so much. It is such +enjoyment to them, that if their uncle did not lay down the rule of +their taking turns, whichever began would never give way to the other.” + +“Well, I cannot understand it.” + +“That is the case with us all, papa. One half of the world cannot +understand the pleasures of the other.” + +Later in the morning, and just as the girls were going to separate +in preparation for the regular four o'clock dinner, the hero of this +inimitable charade walked in again. Harriet turned away; but Emma could +receive him with the usual smile, and her quick eye soon discerned in +his the consciousness of having made a push--of having thrown a die; +and she imagined he was come to see how it might turn up. His ostensible +reason, however, was to ask whether Mr. Woodhouse's party could be made +up in the evening without him, or whether he should be in the smallest +degree necessary at Hartfield. If he were, every thing else must give +way; but otherwise his friend Cole had been saying so much about his +dining with him--had made such a point of it, that he had promised him +conditionally to come. + +Emma thanked him, but could not allow of his disappointing his friend +on their account; her father was sure of his rubber. He re-urged--she +re-declined; and he seemed then about to make his bow, when taking the +paper from the table, she returned it-- + +“Oh! here is the charade you were so obliging as to leave with us; thank +you for the sight of it. We admired it so much, that I have ventured +to write it into Miss Smith's collection. Your friend will not take it +amiss I hope. Of course I have not transcribed beyond the first eight +lines.” + +Mr. Elton certainly did not very well know what to say. He looked rather +doubtingly--rather confused; said something about “honour,”--glanced at +Emma and at Harriet, and then seeing the book open on the table, took +it up, and examined it very attentively. With the view of passing off an +awkward moment, Emma smilingly said, + +“You must make my apologies to your friend; but so good a charade +must not be confined to one or two. He may be sure of every woman's +approbation while he writes with such gallantry.” + +“I have no hesitation in saying,” replied Mr. Elton, though hesitating +a good deal while he spoke; “I have no hesitation in saying--at least +if my friend feels at all as _I_ do--I have not the smallest doubt that, +could he see his little effusion honoured as _I_ see it, (looking at the +book again, and replacing it on the table), he would consider it as the +proudest moment of his life.” + +After this speech he was gone as soon as possible. Emma could not think +it too soon; for with all his good and agreeable qualities, there was +a sort of parade in his speeches which was very apt to incline her to +laugh. She ran away to indulge the inclination, leaving the tender and +the sublime of pleasure to Harriet's share. + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Though now the middle of December, there had yet been no weather to +prevent the young ladies from tolerably regular exercise; and on the +morrow, Emma had a charitable visit to pay to a poor sick family, who +lived a little way out of Highbury. + +Their road to this detached cottage was down Vicarage Lane, a lane +leading at right angles from the broad, though irregular, main street of +the place; and, as may be inferred, containing the blessed abode of Mr. +Elton. A few inferior dwellings were first to be passed, and then, about +a quarter of a mile down the lane rose the Vicarage, an old and not +very good house, almost as close to the road as it could be. It had +no advantage of situation; but had been very much smartened up by the +present proprietor; and, such as it was, there could be no possibility +of the two friends passing it without a slackened pace and observing +eyes.--Emma's remark was-- + +“There it is. There go you and your riddle-book one of these +days.”--Harriet's was-- + +“Oh, what a sweet house!--How very beautiful!--There are the yellow +curtains that Miss Nash admires so much.” + +“I do not often walk this way _now_,” said Emma, as they proceeded, “but +_then_ there will be an inducement, and I shall gradually get intimately +acquainted with all the hedges, gates, pools and pollards of this part +of Highbury.” + +Harriet, she found, had never in her life been inside the Vicarage, +and her curiosity to see it was so extreme, that, considering exteriors +and probabilities, Emma could only class it, as a proof of love, with +Mr. Elton's seeing ready wit in her. + +“I wish we could contrive it,” said she; “but I cannot think of any +tolerable pretence for going in;--no servant that I want to inquire +about of his housekeeper--no message from my father.” + +She pondered, but could think of nothing. After a mutual silence of some +minutes, Harriet thus began again-- + +“I do so wonder, Miss Woodhouse, that you should not be married, or +going to be married! so charming as you are!”-- + +Emma laughed, and replied, + +“My being charming, Harriet, is not quite enough to induce me to marry; +I must find other people charming--one other person at least. And I +am not only, not going to be married, at present, but have very little +intention of ever marrying at all.” + +“Ah!--so you say; but I cannot believe it.” + +“I must see somebody very superior to any one I have seen yet, to be +tempted; Mr. Elton, you know, (recollecting herself,) is out of the +question: and I do _not_ wish to see any such person. I would rather not +be tempted. I cannot really change for the better. If I were to marry, I +must expect to repent it.” + +“Dear me!--it is so odd to hear a woman talk so!”-- + +“I have none of the usual inducements of women to marry. Were I to fall +in love, indeed, it would be a different thing! but I never have been in +love; it is not my way, or my nature; and I do not think I ever shall. +And, without love, I am sure I should be a fool to change such a +situation as mine. Fortune I do not want; employment I do not want; +consequence I do not want: I believe few married women are half as much +mistress of their husband's house as I am of Hartfield; and never, never +could I expect to be so truly beloved and important; so always first and +always right in any man's eyes as I am in my father's.” + +“But then, to be an old maid at last, like Miss Bates!” + +“That is as formidable an image as you could present, Harriet; and if +I thought I should ever be like Miss Bates! so silly--so satisfied--so +smiling--so prosing--so undistinguishing and unfastidious--and so apt +to tell every thing relative to every body about me, I would marry +to-morrow. But between _us_, I am convinced there never can be any +likeness, except in being unmarried.” + +“But still, you will be an old maid! and that's so dreadful!” + +“Never mind, Harriet, I shall not be a poor old maid; and it is poverty +only which makes celibacy contemptible to a generous public! A single +woman, with a very narrow income, must be a ridiculous, disagreeable old +maid! the proper sport of boys and girls, but a single woman, of good +fortune, is always respectable, and may be as sensible and pleasant +as any body else. And the distinction is not quite so much against the +candour and common sense of the world as appears at first; for a very +narrow income has a tendency to contract the mind, and sour the temper. +Those who can barely live, and who live perforce in a very small, and +generally very inferior, society, may well be illiberal and cross. This +does not apply, however, to Miss Bates; she is only too good natured and +too silly to suit me; but, in general, she is very much to the taste +of every body, though single and though poor. Poverty certainly has not +contracted her mind: I really believe, if she had only a shilling in the +world, she would be very likely to give away sixpence of it; and nobody +is afraid of her: that is a great charm.” + +“Dear me! but what shall you do? how shall you employ yourself when you +grow old?” + +“If I know myself, Harriet, mine is an active, busy mind, with a great +many independent resources; and I do not perceive why I should be more +in want of employment at forty or fifty than one-and-twenty. Woman's +usual occupations of hand and mind will be as open to me then as they +are now; or with no important variation. If I draw less, I shall read +more; if I give up music, I shall take to carpet-work. And as for +objects of interest, objects for the affections, which is in truth the +great point of inferiority, the want of which is really the great evil +to be avoided in _not_ marrying, I shall be very well off, with all the +children of a sister I love so much, to care about. There will be enough +of them, in all probability, to supply every sort of sensation that +declining life can need. There will be enough for every hope and every +fear; and though my attachment to none can equal that of a parent, it +suits my ideas of comfort better than what is warmer and blinder. My +nephews and nieces!--I shall often have a niece with me.” + +“Do you know Miss Bates's niece? That is, I know you must have seen her +a hundred times--but are you acquainted?” + +“Oh! yes; we are always forced to be acquainted whenever she comes to +Highbury. By the bye, _that_ is almost enough to put one out of conceit +with a niece. Heaven forbid! at least, that I should ever bore people +half so much about all the Knightleys together, as she does about Jane +Fairfax. One is sick of the very name of Jane Fairfax. Every letter from +her is read forty times over; her compliments to all friends go round +and round again; and if she does but send her aunt the pattern of a +stomacher, or knit a pair of garters for her grandmother, one hears of +nothing else for a month. I wish Jane Fairfax very well; but she tires +me to death.” + +They were now approaching the cottage, and all idle topics were +superseded. Emma was very compassionate; and the distresses of the poor +were as sure of relief from her personal attention and kindness, her +counsel and her patience, as from her purse. She understood their ways, +could allow for their ignorance and their temptations, had no romantic +expectations of extraordinary virtue from those for whom education had +done so little; entered into their troubles with ready sympathy, and +always gave her assistance with as much intelligence as good-will. In +the present instance, it was sickness and poverty together which she +came to visit; and after remaining there as long as she could give +comfort or advice, she quitted the cottage with such an impression of +the scene as made her say to Harriet, as they walked away, + +“These are the sights, Harriet, to do one good. How trifling they make +every thing else appear!--I feel now as if I could think of nothing but +these poor creatures all the rest of the day; and yet, who can say how +soon it may all vanish from my mind?” + +“Very true,” said Harriet. “Poor creatures! one can think of nothing +else.” + +“And really, I do not think the impression will soon be over,” said +Emma, as she crossed the low hedge, and tottering footstep which ended +the narrow, slippery path through the cottage garden, and brought them +into the lane again. “I do not think it will,” stopping to look once +more at all the outward wretchedness of the place, and recall the still +greater within. + +“Oh! dear, no,” said her companion. + +They walked on. The lane made a slight bend; and when that bend was +passed, Mr. Elton was immediately in sight; and so near as to give Emma +time only to say farther, + +“Ah! Harriet, here comes a very sudden trial of our stability in good +thoughts. Well, (smiling,) I hope it may be allowed that if compassion +has produced exertion and relief to the sufferers, it has done all that +is truly important. If we feel for the wretched, enough to do all we can +for them, the rest is empty sympathy, only distressing to ourselves.” + +Harriet could just answer, “Oh! dear, yes,” before the gentleman joined +them. The wants and sufferings of the poor family, however, were the +first subject on meeting. He had been going to call on them. His visit +he would now defer; but they had a very interesting parley about +what could be done and should be done. Mr. Elton then turned back to +accompany them. + +“To fall in with each other on such an errand as this,” thought Emma; +“to meet in a charitable scheme; this will bring a great increase +of love on each side. I should not wonder if it were to bring on the +declaration. It must, if I were not here. I wish I were anywhere else.” + +Anxious to separate herself from them as far as she could, she soon +afterwards took possession of a narrow footpath, a little raised on one +side of the lane, leaving them together in the main road. But she had +not been there two minutes when she found that Harriet's habits of +dependence and imitation were bringing her up too, and that, in short, +they would both be soon after her. This would not do; she immediately +stopped, under pretence of having some alteration to make in the lacing +of her half-boot, and stooping down in complete occupation of the +footpath, begged them to have the goodness to walk on, and she would +follow in half a minute. They did as they were desired; and by the time +she judged it reasonable to have done with her boot, she had the comfort +of farther delay in her power, being overtaken by a child from the +cottage, setting out, according to orders, with her pitcher, to fetch +broth from Hartfield. To walk by the side of this child, and talk to +and question her, was the most natural thing in the world, or would have +been the most natural, had she been acting just then without design; +and by this means the others were still able to keep ahead, without +any obligation of waiting for her. She gained on them, however, +involuntarily: the child's pace was quick, and theirs rather slow; +and she was the more concerned at it, from their being evidently in +a conversation which interested them. Mr. Elton was speaking with +animation, Harriet listening with a very pleased attention; and Emma, +having sent the child on, was beginning to think how she might draw back +a little more, when they both looked around, and she was obliged to join +them. + +Mr. Elton was still talking, still engaged in some interesting detail; +and Emma experienced some disappointment when she found that he was only +giving his fair companion an account of the yesterday's party at his +friend Cole's, and that she was come in herself for the Stilton cheese, +the north Wiltshire, the butter, the celery, the beet-root, and all the +dessert. + +“This would soon have led to something better, of course,” was her +consoling reflection; “any thing interests between those who love; and +any thing will serve as introduction to what is near the heart. If I +could but have kept longer away!” + +They now walked on together quietly, till within view of the vicarage +pales, when a sudden resolution, of at least getting Harriet into the +house, made her again find something very much amiss about her boot, and +fall behind to arrange it once more. She then broke the lace off short, +and dexterously throwing it into a ditch, was presently obliged to +entreat them to stop, and acknowledged her inability to put herself to +rights so as to be able to walk home in tolerable comfort. + +“Part of my lace is gone,” said she, “and I do not know how I am to +contrive. I really am a most troublesome companion to you both, but I +hope I am not often so ill-equipped. Mr. Elton, I must beg leave to stop +at your house, and ask your housekeeper for a bit of ribband or string, +or any thing just to keep my boot on.” + +Mr. Elton looked all happiness at this proposition; and nothing could +exceed his alertness and attention in conducting them into his house and +endeavouring to make every thing appear to advantage. The room they were +taken into was the one he chiefly occupied, and looking forwards; behind +it was another with which it immediately communicated; the door between +them was open, and Emma passed into it with the housekeeper to receive +her assistance in the most comfortable manner. She was obliged to leave +the door ajar as she found it; but she fully intended that Mr. Elton +should close it. It was not closed, however, it still remained ajar; but +by engaging the housekeeper in incessant conversation, she hoped to make +it practicable for him to chuse his own subject in the adjoining +room. For ten minutes she could hear nothing but herself. It could be +protracted no longer. She was then obliged to be finished, and make her +appearance. + +The lovers were standing together at one of the windows. It had a most +favourable aspect; and, for half a minute, Emma felt the glory of having +schemed successfully. But it would not do; he had not come to the point. +He had been most agreeable, most delightful; he had told Harriet that +he had seen them go by, and had purposely followed them; other little +gallantries and allusions had been dropt, but nothing serious. + +“Cautious, very cautious,” thought Emma; “he advances inch by inch, and +will hazard nothing till he believes himself secure.” + +Still, however, though every thing had not been accomplished by her +ingenious device, she could not but flatter herself that it had been +the occasion of much present enjoyment to both, and must be leading them +forward to the great event. + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Mr. Elton must now be left to himself. It was no longer in Emma's power +to superintend his happiness or quicken his measures. The coming of her +sister's family was so very near at hand, that first in anticipation, +and then in reality, it became henceforth her prime object of interest; +and during the ten days of their stay at Hartfield it was not to be +expected--she did not herself expect--that any thing beyond occasional, +fortuitous assistance could be afforded by her to the lovers. They might +advance rapidly if they would, however; they must advance somehow or +other whether they would or no. She hardly wished to have more leisure +for them. There are people, who the more you do for them, the less they +will do for themselves. + +Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley, from having been longer than usual absent +from Surry, were exciting of course rather more than the usual interest. +Till this year, every long vacation since their marriage had been +divided between Hartfield and Donwell Abbey; but all the holidays of +this autumn had been given to sea-bathing for the children, and it was +therefore many months since they had been seen in a regular way by their +Surry connexions, or seen at all by Mr. Woodhouse, who could not be +induced to get so far as London, even for poor Isabella's sake; and +who consequently was now most nervously and apprehensively happy in +forestalling this too short visit. + +He thought much of the evils of the journey for her, and not a little +of the fatigues of his own horses and coachman who were to bring some +of the party the last half of the way; but his alarms were needless; +the sixteen miles being happily accomplished, and Mr. and Mrs. John +Knightley, their five children, and a competent number of nursery-maids, +all reaching Hartfield in safety. The bustle and joy of such an arrival, +the many to be talked to, welcomed, encouraged, and variously dispersed +and disposed of, produced a noise and confusion which his nerves could +not have borne under any other cause, nor have endured much longer even +for this; but the ways of Hartfield and the feelings of her father +were so respected by Mrs. John Knightley, that in spite of maternal +solicitude for the immediate enjoyment of her little ones, and for their +having instantly all the liberty and attendance, all the eating and +drinking, and sleeping and playing, which they could possibly wish for, +without the smallest delay, the children were never allowed to be long +a disturbance to him, either in themselves or in any restless attendance +on them. + +Mrs. John Knightley was a pretty, elegant little woman, of gentle, quiet +manners, and a disposition remarkably amiable and affectionate; wrapt +up in her family; a devoted wife, a doating mother, and so tenderly +attached to her father and sister that, but for these higher ties, a +warmer love might have seemed impossible. She could never see a fault +in any of them. She was not a woman of strong understanding or any +quickness; and with this resemblance of her father, she inherited also +much of his constitution; was delicate in her own health, over-careful +of that of her children, had many fears and many nerves, and was as fond +of her own Mr. Wingfield in town as her father could be of Mr. Perry. +They were alike too, in a general benevolence of temper, and a strong +habit of regard for every old acquaintance. + +Mr. John Knightley was a tall, gentleman-like, and very clever man; +rising in his profession, domestic, and respectable in his private +character; but with reserved manners which prevented his being generally +pleasing; and capable of being sometimes out of humour. He was not an +ill-tempered man, not so often unreasonably cross as to deserve such a +reproach; but his temper was not his great perfection; and, indeed, with +such a worshipping wife, it was hardly possible that any natural defects +in it should not be increased. The extreme sweetness of her temper +must hurt his. He had all the clearness and quickness of mind which she +wanted, and he could sometimes act an ungracious, or say a severe thing. + +He was not a great favourite with his fair sister-in-law. Nothing wrong +in him escaped her. She was quick in feeling the little injuries to +Isabella, which Isabella never felt herself. Perhaps she might have +passed over more had his manners been flattering to Isabella's sister, +but they were only those of a calmly kind brother and friend, without +praise and without blindness; but hardly any degree of personal +compliment could have made her regardless of that greatest fault of +all in her eyes which he sometimes fell into, the want of respectful +forbearance towards her father. There he had not always the patience +that could have been wished. Mr. Woodhouse's peculiarities and +fidgetiness were sometimes provoking him to a rational remonstrance or +sharp retort equally ill-bestowed. It did not often happen; for Mr. John +Knightley had really a great regard for his father-in-law, and generally +a strong sense of what was due to him; but it was too often for Emma's +charity, especially as there was all the pain of apprehension frequently +to be endured, though the offence came not. The beginning, however, of +every visit displayed none but the properest feelings, and this being of +necessity so short might be hoped to pass away in unsullied cordiality. +They had not been long seated and composed when Mr. Woodhouse, with a +melancholy shake of the head and a sigh, called his daughter's attention +to the sad change at Hartfield since she had been there last. + +“Ah, my dear,” said he, “poor Miss Taylor--It is a grievous business.” + +“Oh yes, sir,” cried she with ready sympathy, “how you must miss her! +And dear Emma, too!--What a dreadful loss to you both!--I have been so +grieved for you.--I could not imagine how you could possibly do without +her.--It is a sad change indeed.--But I hope she is pretty well, sir.” + +“Pretty well, my dear--I hope--pretty well.--I do not know but that the +place agrees with her tolerably.” + +Mr. John Knightley here asked Emma quietly whether there were any doubts +of the air of Randalls. + +“Oh! no--none in the least. I never saw Mrs. Weston better in my +life--never looking so well. Papa is only speaking his own regret.” + +“Very much to the honour of both,” was the handsome reply. + +“And do you see her, sir, tolerably often?” asked Isabella in the +plaintive tone which just suited her father. + +Mr. Woodhouse hesitated.--“Not near so often, my dear, as I could wish.” + +“Oh! papa, we have missed seeing them but one entire day since they +married. Either in the morning or evening of every day, excepting one, +have we seen either Mr. Weston or Mrs. Weston, and generally both, +either at Randalls or here--and as you may suppose, Isabella, most +frequently here. They are very, very kind in their visits. Mr. Weston +is really as kind as herself. Papa, if you speak in that melancholy way, +you will be giving Isabella a false idea of us all. Every body must be +aware that Miss Taylor must be missed, but every body ought also to be +assured that Mr. and Mrs. Weston do really prevent our missing her by +any means to the extent we ourselves anticipated--which is the exact +truth.” + +“Just as it should be,” said Mr. John Knightley, “and just as I hoped +it was from your letters. Her wish of shewing you attention could not be +doubted, and his being a disengaged and social man makes it all easy. I +have been always telling you, my love, that I had no idea of the change +being so very material to Hartfield as you apprehended; and now you have +Emma's account, I hope you will be satisfied.” + +“Why, to be sure,” said Mr. Woodhouse--“yes, certainly--I cannot +deny that Mrs. Weston, poor Mrs. Weston, does come and see us pretty +often--but then--she is always obliged to go away again.” + +“It would be very hard upon Mr. Weston if she did not, papa.--You quite +forget poor Mr. Weston.” + +“I think, indeed,” said John Knightley pleasantly, “that Mr. Weston has +some little claim. You and I, Emma, will venture to take the part of the +poor husband. I, being a husband, and you not being a wife, the claims +of the man may very likely strike us with equal force. As for Isabella, +she has been married long enough to see the convenience of putting all +the Mr. Westons aside as much as she can.” + +“Me, my love,” cried his wife, hearing and understanding only in part.-- +“Are you talking about me?--I am sure nobody ought to be, or can be, a +greater advocate for matrimony than I am; and if it had not been for +the misery of her leaving Hartfield, I should never have thought of Miss +Taylor but as the most fortunate woman in the world; and as to slighting +Mr. Weston, that excellent Mr. Weston, I think there is nothing he does +not deserve. I believe he is one of the very best-tempered men that ever +existed. Excepting yourself and your brother, I do not know his equal +for temper. I shall never forget his flying Henry's kite for him that +very windy day last Easter--and ever since his particular kindness last +September twelvemonth in writing that note, at twelve o'clock at night, +on purpose to assure me that there was no scarlet fever at Cobham, I +have been convinced there could not be a more feeling heart nor a better +man in existence.--If any body can deserve him, it must be Miss Taylor.” + +“Where is the young man?” said John Knightley. “Has he been here on this +occasion--or has he not?” + +“He has not been here yet,” replied Emma. “There was a strong +expectation of his coming soon after the marriage, but it ended in +nothing; and I have not heard him mentioned lately.” + +“But you should tell them of the letter, my dear,” said her father. +“He wrote a letter to poor Mrs. Weston, to congratulate her, and a very +proper, handsome letter it was. She shewed it to me. I thought it very +well done of him indeed. Whether it was his own idea you know, one +cannot tell. He is but young, and his uncle, perhaps--” + +“My dear papa, he is three-and-twenty. You forget how time passes.” + +“Three-and-twenty!--is he indeed?--Well, I could not have thought +it--and he was but two years old when he lost his poor mother! Well, +time does fly indeed!--and my memory is very bad. However, it was an +exceeding good, pretty letter, and gave Mr. and Mrs. Weston a great deal +of pleasure. I remember it was written from Weymouth, and dated Sept. +28th--and began, 'My dear Madam,' but I forget how it went on; and it +was signed 'F. C. Weston Churchill.'--I remember that perfectly.” + +“How very pleasing and proper of him!” cried the good-hearted Mrs. John +Knightley. “I have no doubt of his being a most amiable young man. But +how sad it is that he should not live at home with his father! There is +something so shocking in a child's being taken away from his parents and +natural home! I never could comprehend how Mr. Weston could part with +him. To give up one's child! I really never could think well of any body +who proposed such a thing to any body else.” + +“Nobody ever did think well of the Churchills, I fancy,” observed Mr. +John Knightley coolly. “But you need not imagine Mr. Weston to have felt +what you would feel in giving up Henry or John. Mr. Weston is rather +an easy, cheerful-tempered man, than a man of strong feelings; he takes +things as he finds them, and makes enjoyment of them somehow or other, +depending, I suspect, much more upon what is called society for his +comforts, that is, upon the power of eating and drinking, and playing +whist with his neighbours five times a week, than upon family affection, +or any thing that home affords.” + +Emma could not like what bordered on a reflection on Mr. Weston, and had +half a mind to take it up; but she struggled, and let it pass. She +would keep the peace if possible; and there was something honourable and +valuable in the strong domestic habits, the all-sufficiency of home to +himself, whence resulted her brother's disposition to look down on +the common rate of social intercourse, and those to whom it was +important.--It had a high claim to forbearance. + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Mr. Knightley was to dine with them--rather against the inclination of +Mr. Woodhouse, who did not like that any one should share with him in +Isabella's first day. Emma's sense of right however had decided it; +and besides the consideration of what was due to each brother, she had +particular pleasure, from the circumstance of the late disagreement +between Mr. Knightley and herself, in procuring him the proper +invitation. + +She hoped they might now become friends again. She thought it was time +to make up. Making-up indeed would not do. _She_ certainly had not been +in the wrong, and _he_ would never own that he had. Concession must be +out of the question; but it was time to appear to forget that they had +ever quarrelled; and she hoped it might rather assist the restoration of +friendship, that when he came into the room she had one of the children +with her--the youngest, a nice little girl about eight months old, who +was now making her first visit to Hartfield, and very happy to be danced +about in her aunt's arms. It did assist; for though he began with grave +looks and short questions, he was soon led on to talk of them all in +the usual way, and to take the child out of her arms with all the +unceremoniousness of perfect amity. Emma felt they were friends again; +and the conviction giving her at first great satisfaction, and then +a little sauciness, she could not help saying, as he was admiring the +baby, + +“What a comfort it is, that we think alike about our nephews and nieces. +As to men and women, our opinions are sometimes very different; but with +regard to these children, I observe we never disagree.” + +“If you were as much guided by nature in your estimate of men and women, +and as little under the power of fancy and whim in your dealings with +them, as you are where these children are concerned, we might always +think alike.” + +“To be sure--our discordancies must always arise from my being in the +wrong.” + +“Yes,” said he, smiling--“and reason good. I was sixteen years old when +you were born.” + +“A material difference then,” she replied--“and no doubt you were much +my superior in judgment at that period of our lives; but does not the +lapse of one-and-twenty years bring our understandings a good deal +nearer?” + +“Yes--a good deal _nearer_.” + +“But still, not near enough to give me a chance of being right, if we +think differently.” + +“I have still the advantage of you by sixteen years' experience, and by +not being a pretty young woman and a spoiled child. Come, my dear Emma, +let us be friends, and say no more about it. Tell your aunt, little +Emma, that she ought to set you a better example than to be renewing old +grievances, and that if she were not wrong before, she is now.” + +“That's true,” she cried--“very true. Little Emma, grow up a better +woman than your aunt. Be infinitely cleverer and not half so conceited. +Now, Mr. Knightley, a word or two more, and I have done. As far as good +intentions went, we were _both_ right, and I must say that no effects on +my side of the argument have yet proved wrong. I only want to know that +Mr. Martin is not very, very bitterly disappointed.” + +“A man cannot be more so,” was his short, full answer. + +“Ah!--Indeed I am very sorry.--Come, shake hands with me.” + +This had just taken place and with great cordiality, when John Knightley +made his appearance, and “How d'ye do, George?” and “John, how are +you?” succeeded in the true English style, burying under a calmness that +seemed all but indifference, the real attachment which would have led +either of them, if requisite, to do every thing for the good of the +other. + +The evening was quiet and conversable, as Mr. Woodhouse declined cards +entirely for the sake of comfortable talk with his dear Isabella, and +the little party made two natural divisions; on one side he and his +daughter; on the other the two Mr. Knightleys; their subjects totally +distinct, or very rarely mixing--and Emma only occasionally joining in +one or the other. + +The brothers talked of their own concerns and pursuits, but principally +of those of the elder, whose temper was by much the most communicative, +and who was always the greater talker. As a magistrate, he had generally +some point of law to consult John about, or, at least, some curious +anecdote to give; and as a farmer, as keeping in hand the home-farm at +Donwell, he had to tell what every field was to bear next year, and to +give all such local information as could not fail of being interesting +to a brother whose home it had equally been the longest part of his +life, and whose attachments were strong. The plan of a drain, the change +of a fence, the felling of a tree, and the destination of every acre for +wheat, turnips, or spring corn, was entered into with as much equality +of interest by John, as his cooler manners rendered possible; and if his +willing brother ever left him any thing to inquire about, his inquiries +even approached a tone of eagerness. + +While they were thus comfortably occupied, Mr. Woodhouse was enjoying a +full flow of happy regrets and fearful affection with his daughter. + +“My poor dear Isabella,” said he, fondly taking her hand, and +interrupting, for a few moments, her busy labours for some one of her +five children--“How long it is, how terribly long since you were here! +And how tired you must be after your journey! You must go to bed early, +my dear--and I recommend a little gruel to you before you go.--You and +I will have a nice basin of gruel together. My dear Emma, suppose we all +have a little gruel.” + +Emma could not suppose any such thing, knowing as she did, that both the +Mr. Knightleys were as unpersuadable on that article as herself;--and +two basins only were ordered. After a little more discourse in praise of +gruel, with some wondering at its not being taken every evening by every +body, he proceeded to say, with an air of grave reflection, + +“It was an awkward business, my dear, your spending the autumn at South +End instead of coming here. I never had much opinion of the sea air.” + +“Mr. Wingfield most strenuously recommended it, sir--or we should not +have gone. He recommended it for all the children, but particularly for +the weakness in little Bella's throat,--both sea air and bathing.” + +“Ah! my dear, but Perry had many doubts about the sea doing her any +good; and as to myself, I have been long perfectly convinced, though +perhaps I never told you so before, that the sea is very rarely of use +to any body. I am sure it almost killed me once.” + +“Come, come,” cried Emma, feeling this to be an unsafe subject, “I must +beg you not to talk of the sea. It makes me envious and miserable;--I +who have never seen it! South End is prohibited, if you please. My dear +Isabella, I have not heard you make one inquiry about Mr. Perry yet; and +he never forgets you.” + +“Oh! good Mr. Perry--how is he, sir?” + +“Why, pretty well; but not quite well. Poor Perry is bilious, and he has +not time to take care of himself--he tells me he has not time to take +care of himself--which is very sad--but he is always wanted all round +the country. I suppose there is not a man in such practice anywhere. But +then there is not so clever a man any where.” + +“And Mrs. Perry and the children, how are they? do the children grow? +I have a great regard for Mr. Perry. I hope he will be calling soon. He +will be so pleased to see my little ones.” + +“I hope he will be here to-morrow, for I have a question or two to ask +him about myself of some consequence. And, my dear, whenever he comes, +you had better let him look at little Bella's throat.” + +“Oh! my dear sir, her throat is so much better that I have hardly any +uneasiness about it. Either bathing has been of the greatest service to +her, or else it is to be attributed to an excellent embrocation of Mr. +Wingfield's, which we have been applying at times ever since August.” + +“It is not very likely, my dear, that bathing should have been of use +to her--and if I had known you were wanting an embrocation, I would have +spoken to-- + +“You seem to me to have forgotten Mrs. and Miss Bates,” said Emma, “I +have not heard one inquiry after them.” + +“Oh! the good Bateses--I am quite ashamed of myself--but you mention +them in most of your letters. I hope they are quite well. Good old Mrs. +Bates--I will call upon her to-morrow, and take my children.--They +are always so pleased to see my children.--And that excellent Miss +Bates!--such thorough worthy people!--How are they, sir?” + +“Why, pretty well, my dear, upon the whole. But poor Mrs. Bates had a +bad cold about a month ago.” + +“How sorry I am! But colds were never so prevalent as they have been +this autumn. Mr. Wingfield told me that he has never known them more +general or heavy--except when it has been quite an influenza.” + +“That has been a good deal the case, my dear; but not to the degree you +mention. Perry says that colds have been very general, but not so heavy +as he has very often known them in November. Perry does not call it +altogether a sickly season.” + +“No, I do not know that Mr. Wingfield considers it _very_ sickly +except-- + +“Ah! my poor dear child, the truth is, that in London it is always +a sickly season. Nobody is healthy in London, nobody can be. It is a +dreadful thing to have you forced to live there! so far off!--and the +air so bad!” + +“No, indeed--_we_ are not at all in a bad air. Our part of London is +very superior to most others!--You must not confound us with London +in general, my dear sir. The neighbourhood of Brunswick Square is very +different from almost all the rest. We are so very airy! I should be +unwilling, I own, to live in any other part of the town;--there is +hardly any other that I could be satisfied to have my children in: +but _we_ are so remarkably airy!--Mr. Wingfield thinks the vicinity of +Brunswick Square decidedly the most favourable as to air.” + +“Ah! my dear, it is not like Hartfield. You make the best of it--but +after you have been a week at Hartfield, you are all of you different +creatures; you do not look like the same. Now I cannot say, that I think +you are any of you looking well at present.” + +“I am sorry to hear you say so, sir; but I assure you, excepting those +little nervous head-aches and palpitations which I am never entirely +free from anywhere, I am quite well myself; and if the children were +rather pale before they went to bed, it was only because they were a +little more tired than usual, from their journey and the happiness of +coming. I hope you will think better of their looks to-morrow; for I +assure you Mr. Wingfield told me, that he did not believe he had ever +sent us off altogether, in such good case. I trust, at least, that +you do not think Mr. Knightley looking ill,” turning her eyes with +affectionate anxiety towards her husband. + +“Middling, my dear; I cannot compliment you. I think Mr. John Knightley +very far from looking well.” + +“What is the matter, sir?--Did you speak to me?” cried Mr. John +Knightley, hearing his own name. + +“I am sorry to find, my love, that my father does not think you looking +well--but I hope it is only from being a little fatigued. I could have +wished, however, as you know, that you had seen Mr. Wingfield before you +left home.” + +“My dear Isabella,”--exclaimed he hastily--“pray do not concern yourself +about my looks. Be satisfied with doctoring and coddling yourself and +the children, and let me look as I chuse.” + +“I did not thoroughly understand what you were telling your brother,” + cried Emma, “about your friend Mr. Graham's intending to have a bailiff +from Scotland, to look after his new estate. What will it answer? Will +not the old prejudice be too strong?” + +And she talked in this way so long and successfully that, when forced to +give her attention again to her father and sister, she had nothing +worse to hear than Isabella's kind inquiry after Jane Fairfax; and Jane +Fairfax, though no great favourite with her in general, she was at that +moment very happy to assist in praising. + +“That sweet, amiable Jane Fairfax!” said Mrs. John Knightley.--“It +is so long since I have seen her, except now and then for a moment +accidentally in town! What happiness it must be to her good old +grandmother and excellent aunt, when she comes to visit them! I always +regret excessively on dear Emma's account that she cannot be more at +Highbury; but now their daughter is married, I suppose Colonel and Mrs. +Campbell will not be able to part with her at all. She would be such a +delightful companion for Emma.” + +Mr. Woodhouse agreed to it all, but added, + +“Our little friend Harriet Smith, however, is just such another pretty +kind of young person. You will like Harriet. Emma could not have a +better companion than Harriet.” + +“I am most happy to hear it--but only Jane Fairfax one knows to be so +very accomplished and superior!--and exactly Emma's age.” + +This topic was discussed very happily, and others succeeded of similar +moment, and passed away with similar harmony; but the evening did not +close without a little return of agitation. The gruel came and supplied +a great deal to be said--much praise and many comments--undoubting +decision of its wholesomeness for every constitution, and pretty +severe Philippics upon the many houses where it was never met with +tolerably;--but, unfortunately, among the failures which the daughter +had to instance, the most recent, and therefore most prominent, was in +her own cook at South End, a young woman hired for the time, who never +had been able to understand what she meant by a basin of nice smooth +gruel, thin, but not too thin. Often as she had wished for and ordered +it, she had never been able to get any thing tolerable. Here was a +dangerous opening. + +“Ah!” said Mr. Woodhouse, shaking his head and fixing his eyes on her +with tender concern.--The ejaculation in Emma's ear expressed, “Ah! +there is no end of the sad consequences of your going to South End. It +does not bear talking of.” And for a little while she hoped he would not +talk of it, and that a silent rumination might suffice to restore him to +the relish of his own smooth gruel. After an interval of some minutes, +however, he began with, + +“I shall always be very sorry that you went to the sea this autumn, +instead of coming here.” + +“But why should you be sorry, sir?--I assure you, it did the children a +great deal of good.” + +“And, moreover, if you must go to the sea, it had better not have been +to South End. South End is an unhealthy place. Perry was surprized to +hear you had fixed upon South End.” + +“I know there is such an idea with many people, but indeed it is quite +a mistake, sir.--We all had our health perfectly well there, never +found the least inconvenience from the mud; and Mr. Wingfield says it is +entirely a mistake to suppose the place unhealthy; and I am sure he may +be depended on, for he thoroughly understands the nature of the air, and +his own brother and family have been there repeatedly.” + +“You should have gone to Cromer, my dear, if you went anywhere.--Perry +was a week at Cromer once, and he holds it to be the best of all the +sea-bathing places. A fine open sea, he says, and very pure air. And, by +what I understand, you might have had lodgings there quite away from +the sea--a quarter of a mile off--very comfortable. You should have +consulted Perry.” + +“But, my dear sir, the difference of the journey;--only consider how +great it would have been.--An hundred miles, perhaps, instead of forty.” + +“Ah! my dear, as Perry says, where health is at stake, nothing else +should be considered; and if one is to travel, there is not much to +chuse between forty miles and an hundred.--Better not move at all, +better stay in London altogether than travel forty miles to get into +a worse air. This is just what Perry said. It seemed to him a very +ill-judged measure.” + +Emma's attempts to stop her father had been vain; and when he +had reached such a point as this, she could not wonder at her +brother-in-law's breaking out. + +“Mr. Perry,” said he, in a voice of very strong displeasure, “would do +as well to keep his opinion till it is asked for. Why does he make it +any business of his, to wonder at what I do?--at my taking my family to +one part of the coast or another?--I may be allowed, I hope, the use of +my judgment as well as Mr. Perry.--I want his directions no more than +his drugs.” He paused--and growing cooler in a moment, added, with only +sarcastic dryness, “If Mr. Perry can tell me how to convey a wife and +five children a distance of an hundred and thirty miles with no greater +expense or inconvenience than a distance of forty, I should be as +willing to prefer Cromer to South End as he could himself.” + +“True, true,” cried Mr. Knightley, with most ready interposition--“very +true. That's a consideration indeed.--But John, as to what I was telling +you of my idea of moving the path to Langham, of turning it more to the +right that it may not cut through the home meadows, I cannot conceive +any difficulty. I should not attempt it, if it were to be the means of +inconvenience to the Highbury people, but if you call to mind exactly +the present line of the path.... The only way of proving it, however, +will be to turn to our maps. I shall see you at the Abbey to-morrow +morning I hope, and then we will look them over, and you shall give me +your opinion.” + +Mr. Woodhouse was rather agitated by such harsh reflections on his +friend Perry, to whom he had, in fact, though unconsciously, been +attributing many of his own feelings and expressions;--but the soothing +attentions of his daughters gradually removed the present evil, and +the immediate alertness of one brother, and better recollections of the +other, prevented any renewal of it. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +There could hardly be a happier creature in the world than Mrs. John +Knightley, in this short visit to Hartfield, going about every morning +among her old acquaintance with her five children, and talking over what +she had done every evening with her father and sister. She had nothing +to wish otherwise, but that the days did not pass so swiftly. It was a +delightful visit;--perfect, in being much too short. + +In general their evenings were less engaged with friends than their +mornings; but one complete dinner engagement, and out of the house too, +there was no avoiding, though at Christmas. Mr. Weston would take no +denial; they must all dine at Randalls one day;--even Mr. Woodhouse was +persuaded to think it a possible thing in preference to a division of +the party. + +How they were all to be conveyed, he would have made a difficulty if he +could, but as his son and daughter's carriage and horses were actually +at Hartfield, he was not able to make more than a simple question on +that head; it hardly amounted to a doubt; nor did it occupy Emma long +to convince him that they might in one of the carriages find room for +Harriet also. + +Harriet, Mr. Elton, and Mr. Knightley, their own especial set, were the +only persons invited to meet them;--the hours were to be early, as +well as the numbers few; Mr. Woodhouse's habits and inclination being +consulted in every thing. + +The evening before this great event (for it was a very great event that +Mr. Woodhouse should dine out, on the 24th of December) had been spent +by Harriet at Hartfield, and she had gone home so much indisposed with +a cold, that, but for her own earnest wish of being nursed by Mrs. +Goddard, Emma could not have allowed her to leave the house. Emma called +on her the next day, and found her doom already signed with regard to +Randalls. She was very feverish and had a bad sore throat: Mrs. Goddard +was full of care and affection, Mr. Perry was talked of, and Harriet +herself was too ill and low to resist the authority which excluded her +from this delightful engagement, though she could not speak of her loss +without many tears. + +Emma sat with her as long as she could, to attend her in Mrs. Goddard's +unavoidable absences, and raise her spirits by representing how much Mr. +Elton's would be depressed when he knew her state; and left her at last +tolerably comfortable, in the sweet dependence of his having a most +comfortless visit, and of their all missing her very much. She had not +advanced many yards from Mrs. Goddard's door, when she was met by Mr. +Elton himself, evidently coming towards it, and as they walked on slowly +together in conversation about the invalid--of whom he, on the rumour +of considerable illness, had been going to inquire, that he might +carry some report of her to Hartfield--they were overtaken by Mr. John +Knightley returning from the daily visit to Donwell, with his two eldest +boys, whose healthy, glowing faces shewed all the benefit of a country +run, and seemed to ensure a quick despatch of the roast mutton and rice +pudding they were hastening home for. They joined company and +proceeded together. Emma was just describing the nature of her friend's +complaint;--“a throat very much inflamed, with a great deal of heat +about her, a quick, low pulse, &c. and she was sorry to find from Mrs. +Goddard that Harriet was liable to very bad sore-throats, and had often +alarmed her with them.” Mr. Elton looked all alarm on the occasion, as +he exclaimed, + +“A sore-throat!--I hope not infectious. I hope not of a putrid +infectious sort. Has Perry seen her? Indeed you should take care of +yourself as well as of your friend. Let me entreat you to run no risks. +Why does not Perry see her?” + +Emma, who was not really at all frightened herself, tranquillised this +excess of apprehension by assurances of Mrs. Goddard's experience and +care; but as there must still remain a degree of uneasiness which she +could not wish to reason away, which she would rather feed and assist +than not, she added soon afterwards--as if quite another subject, + +“It is so cold, so very cold--and looks and feels so very much like +snow, that if it were to any other place or with any other party, I +should really try not to go out to-day--and dissuade my father from +venturing; but as he has made up his mind, and does not seem to feel the +cold himself, I do not like to interfere, as I know it would be so great +a disappointment to Mr. and Mrs. Weston. But, upon my word, Mr. Elton, +in your case, I should certainly excuse myself. You appear to me a +little hoarse already, and when you consider what demand of voice and +what fatigues to-morrow will bring, I think it would be no more than +common prudence to stay at home and take care of yourself to-night.” + +Mr. Elton looked as if he did not very well know what answer to make; +which was exactly the case; for though very much gratified by the kind +care of such a fair lady, and not liking to resist any advice of her's, +he had not really the least inclination to give up the visit;--but Emma, +too eager and busy in her own previous conceptions and views to hear him +impartially, or see him with clear vision, was very well satisfied with +his muttering acknowledgment of its being “very cold, certainly very +cold,” and walked on, rejoicing in having extricated him from Randalls, +and secured him the power of sending to inquire after Harriet every hour +of the evening. + +“You do quite right,” said she;--“we will make your apologies to Mr. and +Mrs. Weston.” + +But hardly had she so spoken, when she found her brother was civilly +offering a seat in his carriage, if the weather were Mr. Elton's only +objection, and Mr. Elton actually accepting the offer with much prompt +satisfaction. It was a done thing; Mr. Elton was to go, and never had +his broad handsome face expressed more pleasure than at this moment; +never had his smile been stronger, nor his eyes more exulting than when +he next looked at her. + +“Well,” said she to herself, “this is most strange!--After I had got +him off so well, to chuse to go into company, and leave Harriet ill +behind!--Most strange indeed!--But there is, I believe, in many men, +especially single men, such an inclination--such a passion for dining +out--a dinner engagement is so high in the class of their pleasures, +their employments, their dignities, almost their duties, that any +thing gives way to it--and this must be the case with Mr. Elton; a most +valuable, amiable, pleasing young man undoubtedly, and very much in love +with Harriet; but still, he cannot refuse an invitation, he must dine +out wherever he is asked. What a strange thing love is! he can see ready +wit in Harriet, but will not dine alone for her.” + +Soon afterwards Mr. Elton quitted them, and she could not but do him +the justice of feeling that there was a great deal of sentiment in his +manner of naming Harriet at parting; in the tone of his voice while +assuring her that he should call at Mrs. Goddard's for news of her fair +friend, the last thing before he prepared for the happiness of meeting +her again, when he hoped to be able to give a better report; and +he sighed and smiled himself off in a way that left the balance of +approbation much in his favour. + +After a few minutes of entire silence between them, John Knightley began +with-- + +“I never in my life saw a man more intent on being agreeable than Mr. +Elton. It is downright labour to him where ladies are concerned. With +men he can be rational and unaffected, but when he has ladies to please, +every feature works.” + +“Mr. Elton's manners are not perfect,” replied Emma; “but where there is +a wish to please, one ought to overlook, and one does overlook a great +deal. Where a man does his best with only moderate powers, he will +have the advantage over negligent superiority. There is such perfect +good-temper and good-will in Mr. Elton as one cannot but value.” + +“Yes,” said Mr. John Knightley presently, with some slyness, “he seems +to have a great deal of good-will towards you.” + +“Me!” she replied with a smile of astonishment, “are you imagining me to +be Mr. Elton's object?” + +“Such an imagination has crossed me, I own, Emma; and if it never +occurred to you before, you may as well take it into consideration now.” + +“Mr. Elton in love with me!--What an idea!” + +“I do not say it is so; but you will do well to consider whether it +is so or not, and to regulate your behaviour accordingly. I think your +manners to him encouraging. I speak as a friend, Emma. You had better +look about you, and ascertain what you do, and what you mean to do.” + +“I thank you; but I assure you you are quite mistaken. Mr. Elton and +I are very good friends, and nothing more;” and she walked on, amusing +herself in the consideration of the blunders which often arise from a +partial knowledge of circumstances, of the mistakes which people of high +pretensions to judgment are for ever falling into; and not very well +pleased with her brother for imagining her blind and ignorant, and in +want of counsel. He said no more. + +Mr. Woodhouse had so completely made up his mind to the visit, that in +spite of the increasing coldness, he seemed to have no idea of shrinking +from it, and set forward at last most punctually with his eldest +daughter in his own carriage, with less apparent consciousness of the +weather than either of the others; too full of the wonder of his own +going, and the pleasure it was to afford at Randalls to see that it was +cold, and too well wrapt up to feel it. The cold, however, was severe; +and by the time the second carriage was in motion, a few flakes of snow +were finding their way down, and the sky had the appearance of being so +overcharged as to want only a milder air to produce a very white world +in a very short time. + +Emma soon saw that her companion was not in the happiest humour. The +preparing and the going abroad in such weather, with the sacrifice of +his children after dinner, were evils, were disagreeables at least, +which Mr. John Knightley did not by any means like; he anticipated +nothing in the visit that could be at all worth the purchase; and the +whole of their drive to the vicarage was spent by him in expressing his +discontent. + +“A man,” said he, “must have a very good opinion of himself when he asks +people to leave their own fireside, and encounter such a day as +this, for the sake of coming to see him. He must think himself a most +agreeable fellow; I could not do such a thing. It is the greatest +absurdity--Actually snowing at this moment!--The folly of not allowing +people to be comfortable at home--and the folly of people's not staying +comfortably at home when they can! If we were obliged to go out such +an evening as this, by any call of duty or business, what a hardship we +should deem it;--and here are we, probably with rather thinner clothing +than usual, setting forward voluntarily, without excuse, in defiance of +the voice of nature, which tells man, in every thing given to his view +or his feelings, to stay at home himself, and keep all under shelter +that he can;--here are we setting forward to spend five dull hours in +another man's house, with nothing to say or to hear that was not said +and heard yesterday, and may not be said and heard again to-morrow. +Going in dismal weather, to return probably in worse;--four horses and +four servants taken out for nothing but to convey five idle, shivering +creatures into colder rooms and worse company than they might have had +at home.” + +Emma did not find herself equal to give the pleased assent, which no +doubt he was in the habit of receiving, to emulate the “Very true, +my love,” which must have been usually administered by his travelling +companion; but she had resolution enough to refrain from making +any answer at all. She could not be complying, she dreaded being +quarrelsome; her heroism reached only to silence. She allowed him to +talk, and arranged the glasses, and wrapped herself up, without opening +her lips. + +They arrived, the carriage turned, the step was let down, and Mr. Elton, +spruce, black, and smiling, was with them instantly. Emma thought with +pleasure of some change of subject. Mr. Elton was all obligation and +cheerfulness; he was so very cheerful in his civilities indeed, that she +began to think he must have received a different account of Harriet from +what had reached her. She had sent while dressing, and the answer had +been, “Much the same--not better.” + +“_My_ report from Mrs. Goddard's,” said she presently, “was not so +pleasant as I had hoped--'Not better' was _my_ answer.” + +His face lengthened immediately; and his voice was the voice of +sentiment as he answered. + +“Oh! no--I am grieved to find--I was on the point of telling you that +when I called at Mrs. Goddard's door, which I did the very last thing +before I returned to dress, I was told that Miss Smith was not better, +by no means better, rather worse. Very much grieved and concerned--I +had flattered myself that she must be better after such a cordial as I +knew had been given her in the morning.” + +Emma smiled and answered--“My visit was of use to the nervous part of +her complaint, I hope; but not even I can charm away a sore throat; +it is a most severe cold indeed. Mr. Perry has been with her, as you +probably heard.” + +“Yes--I imagined--that is--I did not--” + +“He has been used to her in these complaints, and I hope to-morrow +morning will bring us both a more comfortable report. But it is +impossible not to feel uneasiness. Such a sad loss to our party to-day!” + +“Dreadful!--Exactly so, indeed.--She will be missed every moment.” + +This was very proper; the sigh which accompanied it was really +estimable; but it should have lasted longer. Emma was rather in dismay +when only half a minute afterwards he began to speak of other things, +and in a voice of the greatest alacrity and enjoyment. + +“What an excellent device,” said he, “the use of a sheepskin for +carriages. How very comfortable they make it;--impossible to feel cold +with such precautions. The contrivances of modern days indeed have +rendered a gentleman's carriage perfectly complete. One is so fenced +and guarded from the weather, that not a breath of air can find its way +unpermitted. Weather becomes absolutely of no consequence. It is a very +cold afternoon--but in this carriage we know nothing of the matter.--Ha! +snows a little I see.” + +“Yes,” said John Knightley, “and I think we shall have a good deal of +it.” + +“Christmas weather,” observed Mr. Elton. “Quite seasonable; and +extremely fortunate we may think ourselves that it did not begin +yesterday, and prevent this day's party, which it might very possibly +have done, for Mr. Woodhouse would hardly have ventured had there been +much snow on the ground; but now it is of no consequence. This is quite +the season indeed for friendly meetings. At Christmas every body invites +their friends about them, and people think little of even the worst +weather. I was snowed up at a friend's house once for a week. Nothing +could be pleasanter. I went for only one night, and could not get away +till that very day se'nnight.” + +Mr. John Knightley looked as if he did not comprehend the pleasure, but +said only, coolly, + +“I cannot wish to be snowed up a week at Randalls.” + +At another time Emma might have been amused, but she was too much +astonished now at Mr. Elton's spirits for other feelings. Harriet seemed +quite forgotten in the expectation of a pleasant party. + +“We are sure of excellent fires,” continued he, “and every thing in the +greatest comfort. Charming people, Mr. and Mrs. Weston;--Mrs. Weston +indeed is much beyond praise, and he is exactly what one values, so +hospitable, and so fond of society;--it will be a small party, but where +small parties are select, they are perhaps the most agreeable of any. +Mr. Weston's dining-room does not accommodate more than ten comfortably; +and for my part, I would rather, under such circumstances, fall short by +two than exceed by two. I think you will agree with me, (turning with +a soft air to Emma,) I think I shall certainly have your approbation, +though Mr. Knightley perhaps, from being used to the large parties of +London, may not quite enter into our feelings.” + +“I know nothing of the large parties of London, sir--I never dine with +any body.” + +“Indeed! (in a tone of wonder and pity,) I had no idea that the law had +been so great a slavery. Well, sir, the time must come when you will +be paid for all this, when you will have little labour and great +enjoyment.” + +“My first enjoyment,” replied John Knightley, as they passed through the +sweep-gate, “will be to find myself safe at Hartfield again.” + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Some change of countenance was necessary for each gentleman as they +walked into Mrs. Weston's drawing-room;--Mr. Elton must compose his +joyous looks, and Mr. John Knightley disperse his ill-humour. Mr. +Elton must smile less, and Mr. John Knightley more, to fit them for the +place.--Emma only might be as nature prompted, and shew herself just as +happy as she was. To her it was real enjoyment to be with the Westons. +Mr. Weston was a great favourite, and there was not a creature in the +world to whom she spoke with such unreserve, as to his wife; not any +one, to whom she related with such conviction of being listened to and +understood, of being always interesting and always intelligible, the +little affairs, arrangements, perplexities, and pleasures of her father +and herself. She could tell nothing of Hartfield, in which Mrs. Weston +had not a lively concern; and half an hour's uninterrupted communication +of all those little matters on which the daily happiness of private life +depends, was one of the first gratifications of each. + +This was a pleasure which perhaps the whole day's visit might not +afford, which certainly did not belong to the present half-hour; but the +very sight of Mrs. Weston, her smile, her touch, her voice was grateful +to Emma, and she determined to think as little as possible of Mr. +Elton's oddities, or of any thing else unpleasant, and enjoy all that +was enjoyable to the utmost. + +The misfortune of Harriet's cold had been pretty well gone through +before her arrival. Mr. Woodhouse had been safely seated long enough +to give the history of it, besides all the history of his own and +Isabella's coming, and of Emma's being to follow, and had indeed just +got to the end of his satisfaction that James should come and see his +daughter, when the others appeared, and Mrs. Weston, who had been almost +wholly engrossed by her attentions to him, was able to turn away and +welcome her dear Emma. + +Emma's project of forgetting Mr. Elton for a while made her rather sorry +to find, when they had all taken their places, that he was close to her. +The difficulty was great of driving his strange insensibility towards +Harriet, from her mind, while he not only sat at her elbow, but +was continually obtruding his happy countenance on her notice, and +solicitously addressing her upon every occasion. Instead of forgetting +him, his behaviour was such that she could not avoid the internal +suggestion of “Can it really be as my brother imagined? can it be +possible for this man to be beginning to transfer his affections from +Harriet to me?--Absurd and insufferable!”--Yet he would be so anxious +for her being perfectly warm, would be so interested about her father, +and so delighted with Mrs. Weston; and at last would begin admiring her +drawings with so much zeal and so little knowledge as seemed terribly +like a would-be lover, and made it some effort with her to preserve her +good manners. For her own sake she could not be rude; and for Harriet's, +in the hope that all would yet turn out right, she was even positively +civil; but it was an effort; especially as something was going on +amongst the others, in the most overpowering period of Mr. Elton's +nonsense, which she particularly wished to listen to. She heard enough +to know that Mr. Weston was giving some information about his son; she +heard the words “my son,” and “Frank,” and “my son,” repeated several +times over; and, from a few other half-syllables very much suspected +that he was announcing an early visit from his son; but before she could +quiet Mr. Elton, the subject was so completely past that any reviving +question from her would have been awkward. + +Now, it so happened that in spite of Emma's resolution of never +marrying, there was something in the name, in the idea of Mr. +Frank Churchill, which always interested her. She had frequently +thought--especially since his father's marriage with Miss Taylor--that +if she _were_ to marry, he was the very person to suit her in age, +character and condition. He seemed by this connexion between the +families, quite to belong to her. She could not but suppose it to be +a match that every body who knew them must think of. That Mr. and Mrs. +Weston did think of it, she was very strongly persuaded; and though +not meaning to be induced by him, or by any body else, to give up a +situation which she believed more replete with good than any she could +change it for, she had a great curiosity to see him, a decided intention +of finding him pleasant, of being liked by him to a certain degree, and +a sort of pleasure in the idea of their being coupled in their friends' +imaginations. + +With such sensations, Mr. Elton's civilities were dreadfully ill-timed; +but she had the comfort of appearing very polite, while feeling very +cross--and of thinking that the rest of the visit could not possibly +pass without bringing forward the same information again, or the +substance of it, from the open-hearted Mr. Weston.--So it proved;--for +when happily released from Mr. Elton, and seated by Mr. Weston, +at dinner, he made use of the very first interval in the cares of +hospitality, the very first leisure from the saddle of mutton, to say to +her, + +“We want only two more to be just the right number. I should like to see +two more here,--your pretty little friend, Miss Smith, and my son--and +then I should say we were quite complete. I believe you did not hear me +telling the others in the drawing-room that we are expecting Frank. +I had a letter from him this morning, and he will be with us within a +fortnight.” + +Emma spoke with a very proper degree of pleasure; and fully assented to +his proposition of Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Smith making their party +quite complete. + +“He has been wanting to come to us,” continued Mr. Weston, “ever since +September: every letter has been full of it; but he cannot command his +own time. He has those to please who must be pleased, and who (between +ourselves) are sometimes to be pleased only by a good many sacrifices. +But now I have no doubt of seeing him here about the second week in +January.” + +“What a very great pleasure it will be to you! and Mrs. Weston is so +anxious to be acquainted with him, that she must be almost as happy as +yourself.” + +“Yes, she would be, but that she thinks there will be another put-off. +She does not depend upon his coming so much as I do: but she does not +know the parties so well as I do. The case, you see, is--(but this is +quite between ourselves: I did not mention a syllable of it in the other +room. There are secrets in all families, you know)--The case is, that a +party of friends are invited to pay a visit at Enscombe in January; and +that Frank's coming depends upon their being put off. If they are not +put off, he cannot stir. But I know they will, because it is a family +that a certain lady, of some consequence, at Enscombe, has a particular +dislike to: and though it is thought necessary to invite them once in +two or three years, they always are put off when it comes to the point. +I have not the smallest doubt of the issue. I am as confident of seeing +Frank here before the middle of January, as I am of being here myself: +but your good friend there (nodding towards the upper end of the table) +has so few vagaries herself, and has been so little used to them at +Hartfield, that she cannot calculate on their effects, as I have been +long in the practice of doing.” + +“I am sorry there should be any thing like doubt in the case,” replied +Emma; “but am disposed to side with you, Mr. Weston. If you think he +will come, I shall think so too; for you know Enscombe.” + +“Yes--I have some right to that knowledge; though I have never been at +the place in my life.--She is an odd woman!--But I never allow myself +to speak ill of her, on Frank's account; for I do believe her to be very +fond of him. I used to think she was not capable of being fond of +any body, except herself: but she has always been kind to him (in her +way--allowing for little whims and caprices, and expecting every thing +to be as she likes). And it is no small credit, in my opinion, to him, +that he should excite such an affection; for, though I would not say +it to any body else, she has no more heart than a stone to people in +general; and the devil of a temper.” + +Emma liked the subject so well, that she began upon it, to Mrs. Weston, +very soon after their moving into the drawing-room: wishing her joy--yet +observing, that she knew the first meeting must be rather alarming.-- +Mrs. Weston agreed to it; but added, that she should be very glad to be +secure of undergoing the anxiety of a first meeting at the time talked +of: “for I cannot depend upon his coming. I cannot be so sanguine as +Mr. Weston. I am very much afraid that it will all end in nothing. Mr. +Weston, I dare say, has been telling you exactly how the matter stands?” + +“Yes--it seems to depend upon nothing but the ill-humour of Mrs. +Churchill, which I imagine to be the most certain thing in the world.” + +“My Emma!” replied Mrs. Weston, smiling, “what is the certainty +of caprice?” Then turning to Isabella, who had not been attending +before--“You must know, my dear Mrs. Knightley, that we are by no means +so sure of seeing Mr. Frank Churchill, in my opinion, as his father +thinks. It depends entirely upon his aunt's spirits and pleasure; in +short, upon her temper. To you--to my two daughters--I may venture on +the truth. Mrs. Churchill rules at Enscombe, and is a very odd-tempered +woman; and his coming now, depends upon her being willing to spare him.” + +“Oh, Mrs. Churchill; every body knows Mrs. Churchill,” replied Isabella: +“and I am sure I never think of that poor young man without the greatest +compassion. To be constantly living with an ill-tempered person, must +be dreadful. It is what we happily have never known any thing of; but +it must be a life of misery. What a blessing, that she never had any +children! Poor little creatures, how unhappy she would have made them!” + +Emma wished she had been alone with Mrs. Weston. She should then have +heard more: Mrs. Weston would speak to her, with a degree of unreserve +which she would not hazard with Isabella; and, she really believed, +would scarcely try to conceal any thing relative to the Churchills +from her, excepting those views on the young man, of which her own +imagination had already given her such instinctive knowledge. But at +present there was nothing more to be said. Mr. Woodhouse very soon +followed them into the drawing-room. To be sitting long after +dinner, was a confinement that he could not endure. Neither wine nor +conversation was any thing to him; and gladly did he move to those with +whom he was always comfortable. + +While he talked to Isabella, however, Emma found an opportunity of +saying, + +“And so you do not consider this visit from your son as by any means +certain. I am sorry for it. The introduction must be unpleasant, +whenever it takes place; and the sooner it could be over, the better.” + +“Yes; and every delay makes one more apprehensive of other delays. Even +if this family, the Braithwaites, are put off, I am still afraid that +some excuse may be found for disappointing us. I cannot bear to imagine +any reluctance on his side; but I am sure there is a great wish on +the Churchills' to keep him to themselves. There is jealousy. They +are jealous even of his regard for his father. In short, I can feel no +dependence on his coming, and I wish Mr. Weston were less sanguine.” + +“He ought to come,” said Emma. “If he could stay only a couple of days, +he ought to come; and one can hardly conceive a young man's not having +it in his power to do as much as that. A young _woman_, if she fall into +bad hands, may be teased, and kept at a distance from those she wants +to be with; but one cannot comprehend a young _man_'s being under such +restraint, as not to be able to spend a week with his father, if he +likes it.” + +“One ought to be at Enscombe, and know the ways of the family, before +one decides upon what he can do,” replied Mrs. Weston. “One ought to +use the same caution, perhaps, in judging of the conduct of any one +individual of any one family; but Enscombe, I believe, certainly must +not be judged by general rules: _she_ is so very unreasonable; and every +thing gives way to her.” + +“But she is so fond of the nephew: he is so very great a favourite. Now, +according to my idea of Mrs. Churchill, it would be most natural, that +while she makes no sacrifice for the comfort of the husband, to whom she +owes every thing, while she exercises incessant caprice towards _him_, +she should frequently be governed by the nephew, to whom she owes +nothing at all.” + +“My dearest Emma, do not pretend, with your sweet temper, to understand +a bad one, or to lay down rules for it: you must let it go its own way. +I have no doubt of his having, at times, considerable influence; but it +may be perfectly impossible for him to know beforehand _when_ it will +be.” + +Emma listened, and then coolly said, “I shall not be satisfied, unless +he comes.” + +“He may have a great deal of influence on some points,” continued Mrs. +Weston, “and on others, very little: and among those, on which she is +beyond his reach, it is but too likely, may be this very circumstance of +his coming away from them to visit us.” + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Mr. Woodhouse was soon ready for his tea; and when he had drank his +tea he was quite ready to go home; and it was as much as his three +companions could do, to entertain away his notice of the lateness of +the hour, before the other gentlemen appeared. Mr. Weston was chatty and +convivial, and no friend to early separations of any sort; but at last +the drawing-room party did receive an augmentation. Mr. Elton, in very +good spirits, was one of the first to walk in. Mrs. Weston and Emma +were sitting together on a sofa. He joined them immediately, and, with +scarcely an invitation, seated himself between them. + +Emma, in good spirits too, from the amusement afforded her mind by +the expectation of Mr. Frank Churchill, was willing to forget his late +improprieties, and be as well satisfied with him as before, and on his +making Harriet his very first subject, was ready to listen with most +friendly smiles. + +He professed himself extremely anxious about her fair friend--her fair, +lovely, amiable friend. “Did she know?--had she heard any thing about +her, since their being at Randalls?--he felt much anxiety--he must +confess that the nature of her complaint alarmed him considerably.” + And in this style he talked on for some time very properly, not much +attending to any answer, but altogether sufficiently awake to the terror +of a bad sore throat; and Emma was quite in charity with him. + +But at last there seemed a perverse turn; it seemed all at once as if he +were more afraid of its being a bad sore throat on her account, than on +Harriet's--more anxious that she should escape the infection, than +that there should be no infection in the complaint. He began with great +earnestness to entreat her to refrain from visiting the sick-chamber +again, for the present--to entreat her to _promise_ _him_ not to venture +into such hazard till he had seen Mr. Perry and learnt his opinion; and +though she tried to laugh it off and bring the subject back into its +proper course, there was no putting an end to his extreme solicitude +about her. She was vexed. It did appear--there was no concealing +it--exactly like the pretence of being in love with her, instead of +Harriet; an inconstancy, if real, the most contemptible and abominable! +and she had difficulty in behaving with temper. He turned to Mrs. Weston +to implore her assistance, “Would not she give him her support?--would +not she add her persuasions to his, to induce Miss Woodhouse not to go +to Mrs. Goddard's till it were certain that Miss Smith's disorder had +no infection? He could not be satisfied without a promise--would not she +give him her influence in procuring it?” + +“So scrupulous for others,” he continued, “and yet so careless for +herself! She wanted me to nurse my cold by staying at home to-day, and +yet will not promise to avoid the danger of catching an ulcerated sore +throat herself. Is this fair, Mrs. Weston?--Judge between us. Have not I +some right to complain? I am sure of your kind support and aid.” + +Emma saw Mrs. Weston's surprize, and felt that it must be great, at an +address which, in words and manner, was assuming to himself the right of +first interest in her; and as for herself, she was too much provoked and +offended to have the power of directly saying any thing to the purpose. +She could only give him a look; but it was such a look as she thought +must restore him to his senses, and then left the sofa, removing to a +seat by her sister, and giving her all her attention. + +She had not time to know how Mr. Elton took the reproof, so rapidly did +another subject succeed; for Mr. John Knightley now came into the room +from examining the weather, and opened on them all with the information +of the ground being covered with snow, and of its still snowing +fast, with a strong drifting wind; concluding with these words to Mr. +Woodhouse: + +“This will prove a spirited beginning of your winter engagements, +sir. Something new for your coachman and horses to be making their way +through a storm of snow.” + +Poor Mr. Woodhouse was silent from consternation; but every body else +had something to say; every body was either surprized or not surprized, +and had some question to ask, or some comfort to offer. Mrs. Weston +and Emma tried earnestly to cheer him and turn his attention from his +son-in-law, who was pursuing his triumph rather unfeelingly. + +“I admired your resolution very much, sir,” said he, “in venturing out +in such weather, for of course you saw there would be snow very soon. +Every body must have seen the snow coming on. I admired your spirit; and +I dare say we shall get home very well. Another hour or two's snow can +hardly make the road impassable; and we are two carriages; if one is +blown over in the bleak part of the common field there will be the other +at hand. I dare say we shall be all safe at Hartfield before midnight.” + +Mr. Weston, with triumph of a different sort, was confessing that he +had known it to be snowing some time, but had not said a word, lest +it should make Mr. Woodhouse uncomfortable, and be an excuse for his +hurrying away. As to there being any quantity of snow fallen or likely +to fall to impede their return, that was a mere joke; he was afraid they +would find no difficulty. He wished the road might be impassable, that +he might be able to keep them all at Randalls; and with the utmost +good-will was sure that accommodation might be found for every body, +calling on his wife to agree with him, that with a little contrivance, +every body might be lodged, which she hardly knew how to do, from the +consciousness of there being but two spare rooms in the house. + +“What is to be done, my dear Emma?--what is to be done?” was Mr. +Woodhouse's first exclamation, and all that he could say for some +time. To her he looked for comfort; and her assurances of safety, her +representation of the excellence of the horses, and of James, and of +their having so many friends about them, revived him a little. + +His eldest daughter's alarm was equal to his own. The horror of being +blocked up at Randalls, while her children were at Hartfield, was full +in her imagination; and fancying the road to be now just passable for +adventurous people, but in a state that admitted no delay, she was eager +to have it settled, that her father and Emma should remain at Randalls, +while she and her husband set forward instantly through all the possible +accumulations of drifted snow that might impede them. + +“You had better order the carriage directly, my love,” said she; “I dare +say we shall be able to get along, if we set off directly; and if we +do come to any thing very bad, I can get out and walk. I am not at all +afraid. I should not mind walking half the way. I could change my shoes, +you know, the moment I got home; and it is not the sort of thing that +gives me cold.” + +“Indeed!” replied he. “Then, my dear Isabella, it is the most +extraordinary sort of thing in the world, for in general every thing +does give you cold. Walk home!--you are prettily shod for walking home, +I dare say. It will be bad enough for the horses.” + +Isabella turned to Mrs. Weston for her approbation of the plan. Mrs. +Weston could only approve. Isabella then went to Emma; but Emma could +not so entirely give up the hope of their being all able to get away; +and they were still discussing the point, when Mr. Knightley, who had +left the room immediately after his brother's first report of the snow, +came back again, and told them that he had been out of doors to examine, +and could answer for there not being the smallest difficulty in their +getting home, whenever they liked it, either now or an hour hence. He +had gone beyond the sweep--some way along the Highbury road--the snow +was nowhere above half an inch deep--in many places hardly enough to +whiten the ground; a very few flakes were falling at present, but the +clouds were parting, and there was every appearance of its being soon +over. He had seen the coachmen, and they both agreed with him in there +being nothing to apprehend. + +To Isabella, the relief of such tidings was very great, and they were +scarcely less acceptable to Emma on her father's account, who +was immediately set as much at ease on the subject as his nervous +constitution allowed; but the alarm that had been raised could not be +appeased so as to admit of any comfort for him while he continued at +Randalls. He was satisfied of there being no present danger in returning +home, but no assurances could convince him that it was safe to stay; and +while the others were variously urging and recommending, Mr. Knightley +and Emma settled it in a few brief sentences: thus-- + +“Your father will not be easy; why do not you go?” + +“I am ready, if the others are.” + +“Shall I ring the bell?” + +“Yes, do.” + +And the bell was rung, and the carriages spoken for. A few minutes more, +and Emma hoped to see one troublesome companion deposited in his own +house, to get sober and cool, and the other recover his temper and +happiness when this visit of hardship were over. + +The carriage came: and Mr. Woodhouse, always the first object on such +occasions, was carefully attended to his own by Mr. Knightley and Mr. +Weston; but not all that either could say could prevent some renewal +of alarm at the sight of the snow which had actually fallen, and the +discovery of a much darker night than he had been prepared for. “He was +afraid they should have a very bad drive. He was afraid poor Isabella +would not like it. And there would be poor Emma in the carriage behind. +He did not know what they had best do. They must keep as much together +as they could;” and James was talked to, and given a charge to go very +slow and wait for the other carriage. + +Isabella stept in after her father; John Knightley, forgetting that he +did not belong to their party, stept in after his wife very naturally; +so that Emma found, on being escorted and followed into the second +carriage by Mr. Elton, that the door was to be lawfully shut on them, +and that they were to have a tete-a-tete drive. It would not have been +the awkwardness of a moment, it would have been rather a pleasure, +previous to the suspicions of this very day; she could have talked to +him of Harriet, and the three-quarters of a mile would have seemed but +one. But now, she would rather it had not happened. She believed he had +been drinking too much of Mr. Weston's good wine, and felt sure that he +would want to be talking nonsense. + +To restrain him as much as might be, by her own manners, she was +immediately preparing to speak with exquisite calmness and gravity of +the weather and the night; but scarcely had she begun, scarcely had they +passed the sweep-gate and joined the other carriage, than she found her +subject cut up--her hand seized--her attention demanded, and Mr. Elton +actually making violent love to her: availing himself of the precious +opportunity, declaring sentiments which must be already well known, +hoping--fearing--adoring--ready to die if she refused him; but +flattering himself that his ardent attachment and unequalled love and +unexampled passion could not fail of having some effect, and in short, +very much resolved on being seriously accepted as soon as possible. It +really was so. Without scruple--without apology--without much apparent +diffidence, Mr. Elton, the lover of Harriet, was professing himself +_her_ lover. She tried to stop him; but vainly; he would go on, and say +it all. Angry as she was, the thought of the moment made her resolve to +restrain herself when she did speak. She felt that half this folly must +be drunkenness, and therefore could hope that it might belong only to +the passing hour. Accordingly, with a mixture of the serious and the +playful, which she hoped would best suit his half and half state, she +replied, + +“I am very much astonished, Mr. Elton. This to _me_! you forget +yourself--you take me for my friend--any message to Miss Smith I shall +be happy to deliver; but no more of this to _me_, if you please.” + +“Miss Smith!--message to Miss Smith!--What could she possibly +mean!”--And he repeated her words with such assurance of accent, such +boastful pretence of amazement, that she could not help replying with +quickness, + +“Mr. Elton, this is the most extraordinary conduct! and I can account +for it only in one way; you are not yourself, or you could not speak +either to me, or of Harriet, in such a manner. Command yourself enough +to say no more, and I will endeavour to forget it.” + +But Mr. Elton had only drunk wine enough to elevate his spirits, not at +all to confuse his intellects. He perfectly knew his own meaning; and +having warmly protested against her suspicion as most injurious, and +slightly touched upon his respect for Miss Smith as her friend,--but +acknowledging his wonder that Miss Smith should be mentioned at all,--he +resumed the subject of his own passion, and was very urgent for a +favourable answer. + +As she thought less of his inebriety, she thought more of his +inconstancy and presumption; and with fewer struggles for politeness, +replied, + +“It is impossible for me to doubt any longer. You have made yourself +too clear. Mr. Elton, my astonishment is much beyond any thing I can +express. After such behaviour, as I have witnessed during the last +month, to Miss Smith--such attentions as I have been in the daily +habit of observing--to be addressing me in this manner--this is an +unsteadiness of character, indeed, which I had not supposed possible! +Believe me, sir, I am far, very far, from gratified in being the object +of such professions.” + +“Good Heaven!” cried Mr. Elton, “what can be the meaning of this?--Miss +Smith!--I never thought of Miss Smith in the whole course of my +existence--never paid her any attentions, but as your friend: never +cared whether she were dead or alive, but as your friend. If she +has fancied otherwise, her own wishes have misled her, and I am very +sorry--extremely sorry--But, Miss Smith, indeed!--Oh! Miss Woodhouse! +who can think of Miss Smith, when Miss Woodhouse is near! No, upon my +honour, there is no unsteadiness of character. I have thought only of +you. I protest against having paid the smallest attention to any one +else. Every thing that I have said or done, for many weeks past, has +been with the sole view of marking my adoration of yourself. You +cannot really, seriously, doubt it. No!--(in an accent meant to be +insinuating)--I am sure you have seen and understood me.” + +It would be impossible to say what Emma felt, on hearing this--which +of all her unpleasant sensations was uppermost. She was too completely +overpowered to be immediately able to reply: and two moments of silence +being ample encouragement for Mr. Elton's sanguine state of mind, he +tried to take her hand again, as he joyously exclaimed-- + +“Charming Miss Woodhouse! allow me to interpret this interesting +silence. It confesses that you have long understood me.” + +“No, sir,” cried Emma, “it confesses no such thing. So far from having +long understood you, I have been in a most complete error with respect +to your views, till this moment. As to myself, I am very sorry that you +should have been giving way to any feelings--Nothing could be farther +from my wishes--your attachment to my friend Harriet--your pursuit of +her, (pursuit, it appeared,) gave me great pleasure, and I have been +very earnestly wishing you success: but had I supposed that she were not +your attraction to Hartfield, I should certainly have thought you judged +ill in making your visits so frequent. Am I to believe that you have +never sought to recommend yourself particularly to Miss Smith?--that you +have never thought seriously of her?” + +“Never, madam,” cried he, affronted in his turn: “never, I assure you. +_I_ think seriously of Miss Smith!--Miss Smith is a very good sort of +girl; and I should be happy to see her respectably settled. I wish +her extremely well: and, no doubt, there are men who might not object +to--Every body has their level: but as for myself, I am not, I think, +quite so much at a loss. I need not so totally despair of an equal +alliance, as to be addressing myself to Miss Smith!--No, madam, my +visits to Hartfield have been for yourself only; and the encouragement I +received--” + +“Encouragement!--I give you encouragement!--Sir, you have been entirely +mistaken in supposing it. I have seen you only as the admirer of my +friend. In no other light could you have been more to me than a common +acquaintance. I am exceedingly sorry: but it is well that the mistake +ends where it does. Had the same behaviour continued, Miss Smith might +have been led into a misconception of your views; not being aware, +probably, any more than myself, of the very great inequality which you +are so sensible of. But, as it is, the disappointment is single, and, I +trust, will not be lasting. I have no thoughts of matrimony at present.” + +He was too angry to say another word; her manner too decided to invite +supplication; and in this state of swelling resentment, and mutually +deep mortification, they had to continue together a few minutes longer, +for the fears of Mr. Woodhouse had confined them to a foot-pace. If +there had not been so much anger, there would have been desperate +awkwardness; but their straightforward emotions left no room for the +little zigzags of embarrassment. Without knowing when the carriage +turned into Vicarage Lane, or when it stopped, they found themselves, +all at once, at the door of his house; and he was out before another +syllable passed.--Emma then felt it indispensable to wish him a good +night. The compliment was just returned, coldly and proudly; and, under +indescribable irritation of spirits, she was then conveyed to Hartfield. + +There she was welcomed, with the utmost delight, by her father, who +had been trembling for the dangers of a solitary drive from Vicarage +Lane--turning a corner which he could never bear to think of--and in +strange hands--a mere common coachman--no James; and there it seemed as +if her return only were wanted to make every thing go well: for Mr. +John Knightley, ashamed of his ill-humour, was now all kindness and +attention; and so particularly solicitous for the comfort of her +father, as to seem--if not quite ready to join him in a basin of +gruel--perfectly sensible of its being exceedingly wholesome; and the +day was concluding in peace and comfort to all their little party, +except herself.--But her mind had never been in such perturbation; and +it needed a very strong effort to appear attentive and cheerful till the +usual hour of separating allowed her the relief of quiet reflection. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +The hair was curled, and the maid sent away, and Emma sat down to think +and be miserable.--It was a wretched business indeed!--Such an overthrow +of every thing she had been wishing for!--Such a development of every +thing most unwelcome!--Such a blow for Harriet!--that was the worst +of all. Every part of it brought pain and humiliation, of some sort or +other; but, compared with the evil to Harriet, all was light; and +she would gladly have submitted to feel yet more mistaken--more in +error--more disgraced by mis-judgment, than she actually was, could the +effects of her blunders have been confined to herself. + +“If I had not persuaded Harriet into liking the man, I could have +borne any thing. He might have doubled his presumption to me--but poor +Harriet!” + +How she could have been so deceived!--He protested that he had never +thought seriously of Harriet--never! She looked back as well as +she could; but it was all confusion. She had taken up the idea, she +supposed, and made every thing bend to it. His manners, however, must +have been unmarked, wavering, dubious, or she could not have been so +misled. + +The picture!--How eager he had been about the picture!--and the +charade!--and an hundred other circumstances;--how clearly they had +seemed to point at Harriet. To be sure, the charade, with its “ready +wit”--but then the “soft eyes”--in fact it suited neither; it was +a jumble without taste or truth. Who could have seen through such +thick-headed nonsense? + +Certainly she had often, especially of late, thought his manners to +herself unnecessarily gallant; but it had passed as his way, as a mere +error of judgment, of knowledge, of taste, as one proof among others +that he had not always lived in the best society, that with all the +gentleness of his address, true elegance was sometimes wanting; but, +till this very day, she had never, for an instant, suspected it to mean +any thing but grateful respect to her as Harriet's friend. + +To Mr. John Knightley was she indebted for her first idea on the +subject, for the first start of its possibility. There was no denying +that those brothers had penetration. She remembered what Mr. Knightley +had once said to her about Mr. Elton, the caution he had given, +the conviction he had professed that Mr. Elton would never marry +indiscreetly; and blushed to think how much truer a knowledge of his +character had been there shewn than any she had reached herself. It +was dreadfully mortifying; but Mr. Elton was proving himself, in many +respects, the very reverse of what she had meant and believed him; +proud, assuming, conceited; very full of his own claims, and little +concerned about the feelings of others. + +Contrary to the usual course of things, Mr. Elton's wanting to pay his +addresses to her had sunk him in her opinion. His professions and his +proposals did him no service. She thought nothing of his attachment, +and was insulted by his hopes. He wanted to marry well, and having the +arrogance to raise his eyes to her, pretended to be in love; but she was +perfectly easy as to his not suffering any disappointment that need be +cared for. There had been no real affection either in his language or +manners. Sighs and fine words had been given in abundance; but she could +hardly devise any set of expressions, or fancy any tone of voice, less +allied with real love. She need not trouble herself to pity him. He +only wanted to aggrandise and enrich himself; and if Miss Woodhouse +of Hartfield, the heiress of thirty thousand pounds, were not quite so +easily obtained as he had fancied, he would soon try for Miss Somebody +else with twenty, or with ten. + +But--that he should talk of encouragement, should consider her as aware +of his views, accepting his attentions, meaning (in short), to marry +him!--should suppose himself her equal in connexion or mind!--look down +upon her friend, so well understanding the gradations of rank below +him, and be so blind to what rose above, as to fancy himself shewing no +presumption in addressing her!--It was most provoking. + +Perhaps it was not fair to expect him to feel how very much he was her +inferior in talent, and all the elegancies of mind. The very want of +such equality might prevent his perception of it; but he must know that +in fortune and consequence she was greatly his superior. He must +know that the Woodhouses had been settled for several generations at +Hartfield, the younger branch of a very ancient family--and that the +Eltons were nobody. The landed property of Hartfield certainly was +inconsiderable, being but a sort of notch in the Donwell Abbey estate, +to which all the rest of Highbury belonged; but their fortune, from +other sources, was such as to make them scarcely secondary to Donwell +Abbey itself, in every other kind of consequence; and the Woodhouses had +long held a high place in the consideration of the neighbourhood which +Mr. Elton had first entered not two years ago, to make his way as he +could, without any alliances but in trade, or any thing to recommend him +to notice but his situation and his civility.--But he had fancied her +in love with him; that evidently must have been his dependence; and +after raving a little about the seeming incongruity of gentle manners +and a conceited head, Emma was obliged in common honesty to stop +and admit that her own behaviour to him had been so complaisant and +obliging, so full of courtesy and attention, as (supposing her real +motive unperceived) might warrant a man of ordinary observation and +delicacy, like Mr. Elton, in fancying himself a very decided favourite. +If _she_ had so misinterpreted his feelings, she had little right to +wonder that _he_, with self-interest to blind him, should have mistaken +hers. + +The first error and the worst lay at her door. It was foolish, it was +wrong, to take so active a part in bringing any two people together. It +was adventuring too far, assuming too much, making light of what +ought to be serious, a trick of what ought to be simple. She was quite +concerned and ashamed, and resolved to do such things no more. + +“Here have I,” said she, “actually talked poor Harriet into being very +much attached to this man. She might never have thought of him but for +me; and certainly never would have thought of him with hope, if I had +not assured her of his attachment, for she is as modest and humble as I +used to think him. Oh! that I had been satisfied with persuading her not +to accept young Martin. There I was quite right. That was well done +of me; but there I should have stopped, and left the rest to time and +chance. I was introducing her into good company, and giving her the +opportunity of pleasing some one worth having; I ought not to have +attempted more. But now, poor girl, her peace is cut up for some time. +I have been but half a friend to her; and if she were _not_ to feel this +disappointment so very much, I am sure I have not an idea of any body +else who would be at all desirable for her;--William Coxe--Oh! no, I +could not endure William Coxe--a pert young lawyer.” + +She stopt to blush and laugh at her own relapse, and then resumed a more +serious, more dispiriting cogitation upon what had been, and might be, +and must be. The distressing explanation she had to make to Harriet, and +all that poor Harriet would be suffering, with the awkwardness of +future meetings, the difficulties of continuing or discontinuing the +acquaintance, of subduing feelings, concealing resentment, and avoiding +eclat, were enough to occupy her in most unmirthful reflections some +time longer, and she went to bed at last with nothing settled but the +conviction of her having blundered most dreadfully. + +To youth and natural cheerfulness like Emma's, though under temporary +gloom at night, the return of day will hardly fail to bring return of +spirits. The youth and cheerfulness of morning are in happy analogy, +and of powerful operation; and if the distress be not poignant enough +to keep the eyes unclosed, they will be sure to open to sensations of +softened pain and brighter hope. + +Emma got up on the morrow more disposed for comfort than she had gone +to bed, more ready to see alleviations of the evil before her, and to +depend on getting tolerably out of it. + +It was a great consolation that Mr. Elton should not be really in +love with her, or so particularly amiable as to make it shocking to +disappoint him--that Harriet's nature should not be of that superior +sort in which the feelings are most acute and retentive--and that there +could be no necessity for any body's knowing what had passed except the +three principals, and especially for her father's being given a moment's +uneasiness about it. + +These were very cheering thoughts; and the sight of a great deal of snow +on the ground did her further service, for any thing was welcome that +might justify their all three being quite asunder at present. + +The weather was most favourable for her; though Christmas Day, she +could not go to church. Mr. Woodhouse would have been miserable had his +daughter attempted it, and she was therefore safe from either exciting +or receiving unpleasant and most unsuitable ideas. The ground covered +with snow, and the atmosphere in that unsettled state between frost and +thaw, which is of all others the most unfriendly for exercise, every +morning beginning in rain or snow, and every evening setting in to +freeze, she was for many days a most honourable prisoner. No intercourse +with Harriet possible but by note; no church for her on Sunday any +more than on Christmas Day; and no need to find excuses for Mr. Elton's +absenting himself. + +It was weather which might fairly confine every body at home; and though +she hoped and believed him to be really taking comfort in some society +or other, it was very pleasant to have her father so well satisfied with +his being all alone in his own house, too wise to stir out; and to +hear him say to Mr. Knightley, whom no weather could keep entirely from +them,-- + +“Ah! Mr. Knightley, why do not you stay at home like poor Mr. Elton?” + +These days of confinement would have been, but for her private +perplexities, remarkably comfortable, as such seclusion exactly suited +her brother, whose feelings must always be of great importance to +his companions; and he had, besides, so thoroughly cleared off his +ill-humour at Randalls, that his amiableness never failed him during the +rest of his stay at Hartfield. He was always agreeable and obliging, +and speaking pleasantly of every body. But with all the hopes of +cheerfulness, and all the present comfort of delay, there was still such +an evil hanging over her in the hour of explanation with Harriet, as +made it impossible for Emma to be ever perfectly at ease. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley were not detained long at Hartfield. The +weather soon improved enough for those to move who must move; and Mr. +Woodhouse having, as usual, tried to persuade his daughter to stay +behind with all her children, was obliged to see the whole party +set off, and return to his lamentations over the destiny of poor +Isabella;--which poor Isabella, passing her life with those she doated +on, full of their merits, blind to their faults, and always innocently +busy, might have been a model of right feminine happiness. + +The evening of the very day on which they went brought a note from Mr. +Elton to Mr. Woodhouse, a long, civil, ceremonious note, to say, with +Mr. Elton's best compliments, “that he was proposing to leave Highbury +the following morning in his way to Bath; where, in compliance with +the pressing entreaties of some friends, he had engaged to spend a few +weeks, and very much regretted the impossibility he was under, from +various circumstances of weather and business, of taking a personal +leave of Mr. Woodhouse, of whose friendly civilities he should ever +retain a grateful sense--and had Mr. Woodhouse any commands, should be +happy to attend to them.” + +Emma was most agreeably surprized.--Mr. Elton's absence just at this +time was the very thing to be desired. She admired him for contriving +it, though not able to give him much credit for the manner in which it +was announced. Resentment could not have been more plainly spoken than +in a civility to her father, from which she was so pointedly excluded. +She had not even a share in his opening compliments.--Her name was not +mentioned;--and there was so striking a change in all this, and such an +ill-judged solemnity of leave-taking in his graceful acknowledgments, as +she thought, at first, could not escape her father's suspicion. + +It did, however.--Her father was quite taken up with the surprize of so +sudden a journey, and his fears that Mr. Elton might never get safely to +the end of it, and saw nothing extraordinary in his language. It was a +very useful note, for it supplied them with fresh matter for thought +and conversation during the rest of their lonely evening. Mr. Woodhouse +talked over his alarms, and Emma was in spirits to persuade them away +with all her usual promptitude. + +She now resolved to keep Harriet no longer in the dark. She had reason +to believe her nearly recovered from her cold, and it was desirable that +she should have as much time as possible for getting the better of +her other complaint before the gentleman's return. She went to Mrs. +Goddard's accordingly the very next day, to undergo the necessary +penance of communication; and a severe one it was.--She had to destroy +all the hopes which she had been so industriously feeding--to appear in +the ungracious character of the one preferred--and acknowledge herself +grossly mistaken and mis-judging in all her ideas on one subject, all +her observations, all her convictions, all her prophecies for the last +six weeks. + +The confession completely renewed her first shame--and the sight of +Harriet's tears made her think that she should never be in charity with +herself again. + +Harriet bore the intelligence very well--blaming nobody--and in every +thing testifying such an ingenuousness of disposition and lowly opinion +of herself, as must appear with particular advantage at that moment to +her friend. + +Emma was in the humour to value simplicity and modesty to the utmost; +and all that was amiable, all that ought to be attaching, seemed on +Harriet's side, not her own. Harriet did not consider herself as having +any thing to complain of. The affection of such a man as Mr. Elton +would have been too great a distinction.--She never could have deserved +him--and nobody but so partial and kind a friend as Miss Woodhouse would +have thought it possible. + +Her tears fell abundantly--but her grief was so truly artless, that +no dignity could have made it more respectable in Emma's eyes--and +she listened to her and tried to console her with all her heart and +understanding--really for the time convinced that Harriet was the +superior creature of the two--and that to resemble her would be more for +her own welfare and happiness than all that genius or intelligence could +do. + +It was rather too late in the day to set about being simple-minded and +ignorant; but she left her with every previous resolution confirmed of +being humble and discreet, and repressing imagination all the rest of +her life. Her second duty now, inferior only to her father's claims, was +to promote Harriet's comfort, and endeavour to prove her own affection +in some better method than by match-making. She got her to Hartfield, +and shewed her the most unvarying kindness, striving to occupy and +amuse her, and by books and conversation, to drive Mr. Elton from her +thoughts. + +Time, she knew, must be allowed for this being thoroughly done; and +she could suppose herself but an indifferent judge of such matters in +general, and very inadequate to sympathise in an attachment to Mr. Elton +in particular; but it seemed to her reasonable that at Harriet's age, +and with the entire extinction of all hope, such a progress might be +made towards a state of composure by the time of Mr. Elton's return, as +to allow them all to meet again in the common routine of acquaintance, +without any danger of betraying sentiments or increasing them. + +Harriet did think him all perfection, and maintained the non-existence +of any body equal to him in person or goodness--and did, in truth, +prove herself more resolutely in love than Emma had foreseen; but yet +it appeared to her so natural, so inevitable to strive against an +inclination of that sort _unrequited_, that she could not comprehend its +continuing very long in equal force. + +If Mr. Elton, on his return, made his own indifference as evident and +indubitable as she could not doubt he would anxiously do, she could not +imagine Harriet's persisting to place her happiness in the sight or the +recollection of him. + +Their being fixed, so absolutely fixed, in the same place, was bad for +each, for all three. Not one of them had the power of removal, or of +effecting any material change of society. They must encounter each +other, and make the best of it. + +Harriet was farther unfortunate in the tone of her companions at Mrs. +Goddard's; Mr. Elton being the adoration of all the teachers and great +girls in the school; and it must be at Hartfield only that she could +have any chance of hearing him spoken of with cooling moderation or +repellent truth. Where the wound had been given, there must the cure be +found if anywhere; and Emma felt that, till she saw her in the way of +cure, there could be no true peace for herself. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Mr. Frank Churchill did not come. When the time proposed drew near, Mrs. +Weston's fears were justified in the arrival of a letter of excuse. For +the present, he could not be spared, to his “very great mortification +and regret; but still he looked forward with the hope of coming to +Randalls at no distant period.” + +Mrs. Weston was exceedingly disappointed--much more disappointed, in +fact, than her husband, though her dependence on seeing the young man +had been so much more sober: but a sanguine temper, though for ever +expecting more good than occurs, does not always pay for its hopes by +any proportionate depression. It soon flies over the present failure, +and begins to hope again. For half an hour Mr. Weston was surprized and +sorry; but then he began to perceive that Frank's coming two or three +months later would be a much better plan; better time of year; +better weather; and that he would be able, without any doubt, to stay +considerably longer with them than if he had come sooner. + +These feelings rapidly restored his comfort, while Mrs. Weston, of +a more apprehensive disposition, foresaw nothing but a repetition of +excuses and delays; and after all her concern for what her husband was +to suffer, suffered a great deal more herself. + +Emma was not at this time in a state of spirits to care really about Mr. +Frank Churchill's not coming, except as a disappointment at Randalls. +The acquaintance at present had no charm for her. She wanted, rather, to +be quiet, and out of temptation; but still, as it was desirable that she +should appear, in general, like her usual self, she took care to express +as much interest in the circumstance, and enter as warmly into Mr. +and Mrs. Weston's disappointment, as might naturally belong to their +friendship. + +She was the first to announce it to Mr. Knightley; and exclaimed quite +as much as was necessary, (or, being acting a part, perhaps rather +more,) at the conduct of the Churchills, in keeping him away. She then +proceeded to say a good deal more than she felt, of the advantage of +such an addition to their confined society in Surry; the pleasure of +looking at somebody new; the gala-day to Highbury entire, which the +sight of him would have made; and ending with reflections on the +Churchills again, found herself directly involved in a disagreement +with Mr. Knightley; and, to her great amusement, perceived that she was +taking the other side of the question from her real opinion, and making +use of Mrs. Weston's arguments against herself. + +“The Churchills are very likely in fault,” said Mr. Knightley, coolly; +“but I dare say he might come if he would.” + +“I do not know why you should say so. He wishes exceedingly to come; but +his uncle and aunt will not spare him.” + +“I cannot believe that he has not the power of coming, if he made a +point of it. It is too unlikely, for me to believe it without proof.” + +“How odd you are! What has Mr. Frank Churchill done, to make you suppose +him such an unnatural creature?” + +“I am not supposing him at all an unnatural creature, in suspecting that +he may have learnt to be above his connexions, and to care very little +for any thing but his own pleasure, from living with those who have +always set him the example of it. It is a great deal more natural than +one could wish, that a young man, brought up by those who are proud, +luxurious, and selfish, should be proud, luxurious, and selfish too. If +Frank Churchill had wanted to see his father, he would have contrived it +between September and January. A man at his age--what is he?--three or +four-and-twenty--cannot be without the means of doing as much as that. +It is impossible.” + +“That's easily said, and easily felt by you, who have always been your +own master. You are the worst judge in the world, Mr. Knightley, of the +difficulties of dependence. You do not know what it is to have tempers +to manage.” + +“It is not to be conceived that a man of three or four-and-twenty +should not have liberty of mind or limb to that amount. He cannot want +money--he cannot want leisure. We know, on the contrary, that he has so +much of both, that he is glad to get rid of them at the idlest haunts in +the kingdom. We hear of him for ever at some watering-place or other. A +little while ago, he was at Weymouth. This proves that he can leave the +Churchills.” + +“Yes, sometimes he can.” + +“And those times are whenever he thinks it worth his while; whenever +there is any temptation of pleasure.” + +“It is very unfair to judge of any body's conduct, without an intimate +knowledge of their situation. Nobody, who has not been in the interior +of a family, can say what the difficulties of any individual of that +family may be. We ought to be acquainted with Enscombe, and with Mrs. +Churchill's temper, before we pretend to decide upon what her nephew +can do. He may, at times, be able to do a great deal more than he can at +others.” + +“There is one thing, Emma, which a man can always do, if he chuses, and +that is, his duty; not by manoeuvring and finessing, but by vigour and +resolution. It is Frank Churchill's duty to pay this attention to his +father. He knows it to be so, by his promises and messages; but if he +wished to do it, it might be done. A man who felt rightly would say at +once, simply and resolutely, to Mrs. Churchill--'Every sacrifice of +mere pleasure you will always find me ready to make to your convenience; +but I must go and see my father immediately. I know he would be hurt by +my failing in such a mark of respect to him on the present occasion. +I shall, therefore, set off to-morrow.'--If he would say so to her +at once, in the tone of decision becoming a man, there would be no +opposition made to his going.” + +“No,” said Emma, laughing; “but perhaps there might be some made to his +coming back again. Such language for a young man entirely dependent, to +use!--Nobody but you, Mr. Knightley, would imagine it possible. But you +have not an idea of what is requisite in situations directly opposite to +your own. Mr. Frank Churchill to be making such a speech as that to +the uncle and aunt, who have brought him up, and are to provide for +him!--Standing up in the middle of the room, I suppose, and speaking as +loud as he could!--How can you imagine such conduct practicable?” + +“Depend upon it, Emma, a sensible man would find no difficulty in it. He +would feel himself in the right; and the declaration--made, of course, +as a man of sense would make it, in a proper manner--would do him more +good, raise him higher, fix his interest stronger with the people he +depended on, than all that a line of shifts and expedients can ever do. +Respect would be added to affection. They would feel that they could +trust him; that the nephew who had done rightly by his father, would do +rightly by them; for they know, as well as he does, as well as all the +world must know, that he ought to pay this visit to his father; and +while meanly exerting their power to delay it, are in their hearts not +thinking the better of him for submitting to their whims. Respect for +right conduct is felt by every body. If he would act in this sort of +manner, on principle, consistently, regularly, their little minds would +bend to his.” + +“I rather doubt that. You are very fond of bending little minds; but +where little minds belong to rich people in authority, I think they have +a knack of swelling out, till they are quite as unmanageable as great +ones. I can imagine, that if you, as you are, Mr. Knightley, were to be +transported and placed all at once in Mr. Frank Churchill's situation, +you would be able to say and do just what you have been recommending for +him; and it might have a very good effect. The Churchills might not have +a word to say in return; but then, you would have no habits of early +obedience and long observance to break through. To him who has, it might +not be so easy to burst forth at once into perfect independence, and set +all their claims on his gratitude and regard at nought. He may have as +strong a sense of what would be right, as you can have, without being so +equal, under particular circumstances, to act up to it.” + +“Then it would not be so strong a sense. If it failed to produce equal +exertion, it could not be an equal conviction.” + +“Oh, the difference of situation and habit! I wish you would try to +understand what an amiable young man may be likely to feel in directly +opposing those, whom as child and boy he has been looking up to all his +life.” + +“Our amiable young man is a very weak young man, if this be the first +occasion of his carrying through a resolution to do right against the +will of others. It ought to have been a habit with him by this time, of +following his duty, instead of consulting expediency. I can allow for +the fears of the child, but not of the man. As he became rational, he +ought to have roused himself and shaken off all that was unworthy in +their authority. He ought to have opposed the first attempt on their +side to make him slight his father. Had he begun as he ought, there +would have been no difficulty now.” + +“We shall never agree about him,” cried Emma; “but that is nothing +extraordinary. I have not the least idea of his being a weak young man: +I feel sure that he is not. Mr. Weston would not be blind to folly, +though in his own son; but he is very likely to have a more yielding, +complying, mild disposition than would suit your notions of man's +perfection. I dare say he has; and though it may cut him off from some +advantages, it will secure him many others.” + +“Yes; all the advantages of sitting still when he ought to move, and +of leading a life of mere idle pleasure, and fancying himself extremely +expert in finding excuses for it. He can sit down and write a fine +flourishing letter, full of professions and falsehoods, and persuade +himself that he has hit upon the very best method in the world of +preserving peace at home and preventing his father's having any right to +complain. His letters disgust me.” + +“Your feelings are singular. They seem to satisfy every body else.” + +“I suspect they do not satisfy Mrs. Weston. They hardly can satisfy +a woman of her good sense and quick feelings: standing in a mother's +place, but without a mother's affection to blind her. It is on her +account that attention to Randalls is doubly due, and she must doubly +feel the omission. Had she been a person of consequence herself, he +would have come I dare say; and it would not have signified whether +he did or no. Can you think your friend behindhand in these sort of +considerations? Do you suppose she does not often say all this to +herself? No, Emma, your amiable young man can be amiable only in French, +not in English. He may be very 'amiable,' have very good manners, and be +very agreeable; but he can have no English delicacy towards the feelings +of other people: nothing really amiable about him.” + +“You seem determined to think ill of him.” + +“Me!--not at all,” replied Mr. Knightley, rather displeased; “I do not +want to think ill of him. I should be as ready to acknowledge his merits +as any other man; but I hear of none, except what are merely personal; +that he is well-grown and good-looking, with smooth, plausible manners.” + +“Well, if he have nothing else to recommend him, he will be a treasure +at Highbury. We do not often look upon fine young men, well-bred and +agreeable. We must not be nice and ask for all the virtues into the +bargain. Cannot you imagine, Mr. Knightley, what a _sensation_ his +coming will produce? There will be but one subject throughout the +parishes of Donwell and Highbury; but one interest--one object of +curiosity; it will be all Mr. Frank Churchill; we shall think and speak +of nobody else.” + +“You will excuse my being so much over-powered. If I find him +conversable, I shall be glad of his acquaintance; but if he is only a +chattering coxcomb, he will not occupy much of my time or thoughts.” + +“My idea of him is, that he can adapt his conversation to the taste of +every body, and has the power as well as the wish of being universally +agreeable. To you, he will talk of farming; to me, of drawing or music; +and so on to every body, having that general information on all subjects +which will enable him to follow the lead, or take the lead, just as +propriety may require, and to speak extremely well on each; that is my +idea of him.” + +“And mine,” said Mr. Knightley warmly, “is, that if he turn out any +thing like it, he will be the most insufferable fellow breathing! What! +at three-and-twenty to be the king of his company--the great man--the +practised politician, who is to read every body's character, and make +every body's talents conduce to the display of his own superiority; to +be dispensing his flatteries around, that he may make all appear like +fools compared with himself! My dear Emma, your own good sense could not +endure such a puppy when it came to the point.” + +“I will say no more about him,” cried Emma, “you turn every thing to +evil. We are both prejudiced; you against, I for him; and we have no +chance of agreeing till he is really here.” + +“Prejudiced! I am not prejudiced.” + +“But I am very much, and without being at all ashamed of it. My love for +Mr. and Mrs. Weston gives me a decided prejudice in his favour.” + +“He is a person I never think of from one month's end to another,” said +Mr. Knightley, with a degree of vexation, which made Emma immediately +talk of something else, though she could not comprehend why he should be +angry. + +To take a dislike to a young man, only because he appeared to be of a +different disposition from himself, was unworthy the real liberality of +mind which she was always used to acknowledge in him; for with all the +high opinion of himself, which she had often laid to his charge, she had +never before for a moment supposed it could make him unjust to the merit +of another. + + + + +VOLUME II + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Emma and Harriet had been walking together one morning, and, in Emma's +opinion, had been talking enough of Mr. Elton for that day. She could +not think that Harriet's solace or her own sins required more; and +she was therefore industriously getting rid of the subject as they +returned;--but it burst out again when she thought she had succeeded, +and after speaking some time of what the poor must suffer in winter, and +receiving no other answer than a very plaintive--“Mr. Elton is so good +to the poor!” she found something else must be done. + +They were just approaching the house where lived Mrs. and Miss Bates. +She determined to call upon them and seek safety in numbers. There was +always sufficient reason for such an attention; Mrs. and Miss Bates +loved to be called on, and she knew she was considered by the very few +who presumed ever to see imperfection in her, as rather negligent in +that respect, and as not contributing what she ought to the stock of +their scanty comforts. + +She had had many a hint from Mr. Knightley and some from her own heart, +as to her deficiency--but none were equal to counteract the persuasion +of its being very disagreeable,--a waste of time--tiresome women--and +all the horror of being in danger of falling in with the second-rate and +third-rate of Highbury, who were calling on them for ever, and therefore +she seldom went near them. But now she made the sudden resolution of not +passing their door without going in--observing, as she proposed it to +Harriet, that, as well as she could calculate, they were just now quite +safe from any letter from Jane Fairfax. + +The house belonged to people in business. Mrs. and Miss Bates occupied +the drawing-room floor; and there, in the very moderate-sized apartment, +which was every thing to them, the visitors were most cordially and even +gratefully welcomed; the quiet neat old lady, who with her knitting was +seated in the warmest corner, wanting even to give up her place to +Miss Woodhouse, and her more active, talking daughter, almost ready +to overpower them with care and kindness, thanks for their visit, +solicitude for their shoes, anxious inquiries after Mr. Woodhouse's +health, cheerful communications about her mother's, and sweet-cake from +the beaufet--“Mrs. Cole had just been there, just called in for ten +minutes, and had been so good as to sit an hour with them, and _she_ had +taken a piece of cake and been so kind as to say she liked it very much; +and, therefore, she hoped Miss Woodhouse and Miss Smith would do them +the favour to eat a piece too.” + +The mention of the Coles was sure to be followed by that of Mr. Elton. +There was intimacy between them, and Mr. Cole had heard from Mr. Elton +since his going away. Emma knew what was coming; they must have the +letter over again, and settle how long he had been gone, and how much +he was engaged in company, and what a favourite he was wherever he went, +and how full the Master of the Ceremonies' ball had been; and she went +through it very well, with all the interest and all the commendation +that could be requisite, and always putting forward to prevent Harriet's +being obliged to say a word. + +This she had been prepared for when she entered the house; but meant, +having once talked him handsomely over, to be no farther incommoded by +any troublesome topic, and to wander at large amongst all the Mistresses +and Misses of Highbury, and their card-parties. She had not been +prepared to have Jane Fairfax succeed Mr. Elton; but he was actually +hurried off by Miss Bates, she jumped away from him at last abruptly to +the Coles, to usher in a letter from her niece. + +“Oh! yes--Mr. Elton, I understand--certainly as to dancing--Mrs. Cole +was telling me that dancing at the rooms at Bath was--Mrs. Cole was so +kind as to sit some time with us, talking of Jane; for as soon as +she came in, she began inquiring after her, Jane is so very great a +favourite there. Whenever she is with us, Mrs. Cole does not know how to +shew her kindness enough; and I must say that Jane deserves it as much +as any body can. And so she began inquiring after her directly, saying, +'I know you cannot have heard from Jane lately, because it is not her +time for writing;' and when I immediately said, 'But indeed we have, we +had a letter this very morning,' I do not know that I ever saw any body +more surprized. 'Have you, upon your honour?' said she; 'well, that is +quite unexpected. Do let me hear what she says.'” + +Emma's politeness was at hand directly, to say, with smiling interest-- + +“Have you heard from Miss Fairfax so lately? I am extremely happy. I +hope she is well?” + +“Thank you. You are so kind!” replied the happily deceived aunt, while +eagerly hunting for the letter.--“Oh! here it is. I was sure it could +not be far off; but I had put my huswife upon it, you see, without being +aware, and so it was quite hid, but I had it in my hand so very lately +that I was almost sure it must be on the table. I was reading it to Mrs. +Cole, and since she went away, I was reading it again to my mother, for +it is such a pleasure to her--a letter from Jane--that she can never +hear it often enough; so I knew it could not be far off, and here it is, +only just under my huswife--and since you are so kind as to wish to hear +what she says;--but, first of all, I really must, in justice to +Jane, apologise for her writing so short a letter--only two pages you +see--hardly two--and in general she fills the whole paper and crosses +half. My mother often wonders that I can make it out so well. She often +says, when the letter is first opened, 'Well, Hetty, now I think +you will be put to it to make out all that checker-work'--don't you, +ma'am?--And then I tell her, I am sure she would contrive to make it out +herself, if she had nobody to do it for her--every word of it--I am sure +she would pore over it till she had made out every word. And, indeed, +though my mother's eyes are not so good as they were, she can see +amazingly well still, thank God! with the help of spectacles. It is such +a blessing! My mother's are really very good indeed. Jane often says, +when she is here, 'I am sure, grandmama, you must have had very strong +eyes to see as you do--and so much fine work as you have done too!--I +only wish my eyes may last me as well.'” + +All this spoken extremely fast obliged Miss Bates to stop for breath; +and Emma said something very civil about the excellence of Miss +Fairfax's handwriting. + +“You are extremely kind,” replied Miss Bates, highly gratified; “you who +are such a judge, and write so beautifully yourself. I am sure there is +nobody's praise that could give us so much pleasure as Miss Woodhouse's. +My mother does not hear; she is a little deaf you know. Ma'am,” + addressing her, “do you hear what Miss Woodhouse is so obliging to say +about Jane's handwriting?” + +And Emma had the advantage of hearing her own silly compliment repeated +twice over before the good old lady could comprehend it. She was +pondering, in the meanwhile, upon the possibility, without seeming very +rude, of making her escape from Jane Fairfax's letter, and had almost +resolved on hurrying away directly under some slight excuse, when Miss +Bates turned to her again and seized her attention. + +“My mother's deafness is very trifling you see--just nothing at all. By +only raising my voice, and saying any thing two or three times over, +she is sure to hear; but then she is used to my voice. But it is very +remarkable that she should always hear Jane better than she does me. +Jane speaks so distinct! However, she will not find her grandmama at all +deafer than she was two years ago; which is saying a great deal at my +mother's time of life--and it really is full two years, you know, since +she was here. We never were so long without seeing her before, and as +I was telling Mrs. Cole, we shall hardly know how to make enough of her +now.” + +“Are you expecting Miss Fairfax here soon?” + +“Oh yes; next week.” + +“Indeed!--that must be a very great pleasure.” + +“Thank you. You are very kind. Yes, next week. Every body is so +surprized; and every body says the same obliging things. I am sure she +will be as happy to see her friends at Highbury, as they can be to see +her. Yes, Friday or Saturday; she cannot say which, because Colonel +Campbell will be wanting the carriage himself one of those days. So very +good of them to send her the whole way! But they always do, you know. Oh +yes, Friday or Saturday next. That is what she writes about. That is +the reason of her writing out of rule, as we call it; for, in the +common course, we should not have heard from her before next Tuesday or +Wednesday.” + +“Yes, so I imagined. I was afraid there could be little chance of my +hearing any thing of Miss Fairfax to-day.” + +“So obliging of you! No, we should not have heard, if it had not been +for this particular circumstance, of her being to come here so soon. My +mother is so delighted!--for she is to be three months with us at +least. Three months, she says so, positively, as I am going to have the +pleasure of reading to you. The case is, you see, that the Campbells are +going to Ireland. Mrs. Dixon has persuaded her father and mother to come +over and see her directly. They had not intended to go over till the +summer, but she is so impatient to see them again--for till she married, +last October, she was never away from them so much as a week, which must +make it very strange to be in different kingdoms, I was going to say, +but however different countries, and so she wrote a very urgent letter +to her mother--or her father, I declare I do not know which it was, but +we shall see presently in Jane's letter--wrote in Mr. Dixon's name as +well as her own, to press their coming over directly, and they would +give them the meeting in Dublin, and take them back to their country +seat, Baly-craig, a beautiful place, I fancy. Jane has heard a great +deal of its beauty; from Mr. Dixon, I mean--I do not know that she ever +heard about it from any body else; but it was very natural, you know, +that he should like to speak of his own place while he was paying his +addresses--and as Jane used to be very often walking out with them--for +Colonel and Mrs. Campbell were very particular about their daughter's +not walking out often with only Mr. Dixon, for which I do not at all +blame them; of course she heard every thing he might be telling Miss +Campbell about his own home in Ireland; and I think she wrote us word +that he had shewn them some drawings of the place, views that he had +taken himself. He is a most amiable, charming young man, I believe. Jane +was quite longing to go to Ireland, from his account of things.” + +At this moment, an ingenious and animating suspicion entering Emma's +brain with regard to Jane Fairfax, this charming Mr. Dixon, and the +not going to Ireland, she said, with the insidious design of farther +discovery, + +“You must feel it very fortunate that Miss Fairfax should be allowed to +come to you at such a time. Considering the very particular friendship +between her and Mrs. Dixon, you could hardly have expected her to be +excused from accompanying Colonel and Mrs. Campbell.” + +“Very true, very true, indeed. The very thing that we have always been +rather afraid of; for we should not have liked to have her at such a +distance from us, for months together--not able to come if any thing was +to happen. But you see, every thing turns out for the best. They want +her (Mr. and Mrs. Dixon) excessively to come over with Colonel and Mrs. +Campbell; quite depend upon it; nothing can be more kind or pressing +than their _joint_ invitation, Jane says, as you will hear presently; +Mr. Dixon does not seem in the least backward in any attention. He is +a most charming young man. Ever since the service he rendered Jane at +Weymouth, when they were out in that party on the water, and she, by the +sudden whirling round of something or other among the sails, would have +been dashed into the sea at once, and actually was all but gone, if he +had not, with the greatest presence of mind, caught hold of her habit-- +(I can never think of it without trembling!)--But ever since we had the +history of that day, I have been so fond of Mr. Dixon!” + +“But, in spite of all her friends' urgency, and her own wish of seeing +Ireland, Miss Fairfax prefers devoting the time to you and Mrs. Bates?” + +“Yes--entirely her own doing, entirely her own choice; and Colonel +and Mrs. Campbell think she does quite right, just what they should +recommend; and indeed they particularly _wish_ her to try her native +air, as she has not been quite so well as usual lately.” + +“I am concerned to hear of it. I think they judge wisely. But Mrs. +Dixon must be very much disappointed. Mrs. Dixon, I understand, has +no remarkable degree of personal beauty; is not, by any means, to be +compared with Miss Fairfax.” + +“Oh! no. You are very obliging to say such things--but certainly not. +There is no comparison between them. Miss Campbell always was absolutely +plain--but extremely elegant and amiable.” + +“Yes, that of course.” + +“Jane caught a bad cold, poor thing! so long ago as the 7th of November, +(as I am going to read to you,) and has never been well since. A long +time, is not it, for a cold to hang upon her? She never mentioned +it before, because she would not alarm us. Just like her! so +considerate!--But however, she is so far from well, that her kind +friends the Campbells think she had better come home, and try an air +that always agrees with her; and they have no doubt that three or four +months at Highbury will entirely cure her--and it is certainly a great +deal better that she should come here, than go to Ireland, if she is +unwell. Nobody could nurse her, as we should do.” + +“It appears to me the most desirable arrangement in the world.” + +“And so she is to come to us next Friday or Saturday, and the Campbells +leave town in their way to Holyhead the Monday following--as you will +find from Jane's letter. So sudden!--You may guess, dear Miss Woodhouse, +what a flurry it has thrown me in! If it was not for the drawback of +her illness--but I am afraid we must expect to see her grown thin, and +looking very poorly. I must tell you what an unlucky thing happened to +me, as to that. I always make a point of reading Jane's letters through +to myself first, before I read them aloud to my mother, you know, for +fear of there being any thing in them to distress her. Jane desired me +to do it, so I always do: and so I began to-day with my usual caution; +but no sooner did I come to the mention of her being unwell, than I +burst out, quite frightened, with 'Bless me! poor Jane is ill!'--which +my mother, being on the watch, heard distinctly, and was sadly alarmed +at. However, when I read on, I found it was not near so bad as I had +fancied at first; and I make so light of it now to her, that she does +not think much about it. But I cannot imagine how I could be so off my +guard. If Jane does not get well soon, we will call in Mr. Perry. The +expense shall not be thought of; and though he is so liberal, and so +fond of Jane that I dare say he would not mean to charge any thing for +attendance, we could not suffer it to be so, you know. He has a wife and +family to maintain, and is not to be giving away his time. Well, now I +have just given you a hint of what Jane writes about, we will turn to +her letter, and I am sure she tells her own story a great deal better +than I can tell it for her.” + +“I am afraid we must be running away,” said Emma, glancing at Harriet, +and beginning to rise--“My father will be expecting us. I had no +intention, I thought I had no power of staying more than five minutes, +when I first entered the house. I merely called, because I would not +pass the door without inquiring after Mrs. Bates; but I have been so +pleasantly detained! Now, however, we must wish you and Mrs. Bates good +morning.” + +And not all that could be urged to detain her succeeded. She regained +the street--happy in this, that though much had been forced on her +against her will, though she had in fact heard the whole substance of +Jane Fairfax's letter, she had been able to escape the letter itself. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Jane Fairfax was an orphan, the only child of Mrs. Bates's youngest +daughter. + +The marriage of Lieut. Fairfax of the ----regiment of infantry, +and Miss Jane Bates, had had its day of fame and pleasure, hope +and interest; but nothing now remained of it, save the melancholy +remembrance of him dying in action abroad--of his widow sinking under +consumption and grief soon afterwards--and this girl. + +By birth she belonged to Highbury: and when at three years old, on +losing her mother, she became the property, the charge, the consolation, +the foundling of her grandmother and aunt, there had seemed every +probability of her being permanently fixed there; of her being taught +only what very limited means could command, and growing up with no +advantages of connexion or improvement, to be engrafted on what +nature had given her in a pleasing person, good understanding, and +warm-hearted, well-meaning relations. + +But the compassionate feelings of a friend of her father gave a change +to her destiny. This was Colonel Campbell, who had very highly regarded +Fairfax, as an excellent officer and most deserving young man; and +farther, had been indebted to him for such attentions, during a severe +camp-fever, as he believed had saved his life. These were claims which +he did not learn to overlook, though some years passed away from the +death of poor Fairfax, before his own return to England put any thing in +his power. When he did return, he sought out the child and took notice +of her. He was a married man, with only one living child, a girl, about +Jane's age: and Jane became their guest, paying them long visits and +growing a favourite with all; and before she was nine years old, his +daughter's great fondness for her, and his own wish of being a real +friend, united to produce an offer from Colonel Campbell of undertaking +the whole charge of her education. It was accepted; and from that period +Jane had belonged to Colonel Campbell's family, and had lived with them +entirely, only visiting her grandmother from time to time. + +The plan was that she should be brought up for educating others; the +very few hundred pounds which she inherited from her father making +independence impossible. To provide for her otherwise was out of Colonel +Campbell's power; for though his income, by pay and appointments, was +handsome, his fortune was moderate and must be all his daughter's; +but, by giving her an education, he hoped to be supplying the means of +respectable subsistence hereafter. + +Such was Jane Fairfax's history. She had fallen into good hands, known +nothing but kindness from the Campbells, and been given an excellent +education. Living constantly with right-minded and well-informed people, +her heart and understanding had received every advantage of discipline +and culture; and Colonel Campbell's residence being in London, every +lighter talent had been done full justice to, by the attendance of +first-rate masters. Her disposition and abilities were equally worthy +of all that friendship could do; and at eighteen or nineteen she was, +as far as such an early age can be qualified for the care of children, +fully competent to the office of instruction herself; but she was too +much beloved to be parted with. Neither father nor mother could promote, +and the daughter could not endure it. The evil day was put off. It was +easy to decide that she was still too young; and Jane remained with +them, sharing, as another daughter, in all the rational pleasures of +an elegant society, and a judicious mixture of home and amusement, with +only the drawback of the future, the sobering suggestions of her own +good understanding to remind her that all this might soon be over. + +The affection of the whole family, the warm attachment of Miss +Campbell in particular, was the more honourable to each party from +the circumstance of Jane's decided superiority both in beauty and +acquirements. That nature had given it in feature could not be unseen +by the young woman, nor could her higher powers of mind be unfelt by the +parents. They continued together with unabated regard however, till the +marriage of Miss Campbell, who by that chance, that luck which so often +defies anticipation in matrimonial affairs, giving attraction to what is +moderate rather than to what is superior, engaged the affections of +Mr. Dixon, a young man, rich and agreeable, almost as soon as they were +acquainted; and was eligibly and happily settled, while Jane Fairfax had +yet her bread to earn. + +This event had very lately taken place; too lately for any thing to be +yet attempted by her less fortunate friend towards entering on her path +of duty; though she had now reached the age which her own judgment had +fixed on for beginning. She had long resolved that one-and-twenty +should be the period. With the fortitude of a devoted novitiate, she had +resolved at one-and-twenty to complete the sacrifice, and retire from +all the pleasures of life, of rational intercourse, equal society, peace +and hope, to penance and mortification for ever. + +The good sense of Colonel and Mrs. Campbell could not oppose such +a resolution, though their feelings did. As long as they lived, no +exertions would be necessary, their home might be hers for ever; and for +their own comfort they would have retained her wholly; but this would +be selfishness:--what must be at last, had better be soon. Perhaps they +began to feel it might have been kinder and wiser to have resisted the +temptation of any delay, and spared her from a taste of such enjoyments +of ease and leisure as must now be relinquished. Still, however, +affection was glad to catch at any reasonable excuse for not hurrying +on the wretched moment. She had never been quite well since the time of +their daughter's marriage; and till she should have completely recovered +her usual strength, they must forbid her engaging in duties, which, so +far from being compatible with a weakened frame and varying spirits, +seemed, under the most favourable circumstances, to require something +more than human perfection of body and mind to be discharged with +tolerable comfort. + +With regard to her not accompanying them to Ireland, her account to her +aunt contained nothing but truth, though there might be some truths +not told. It was her own choice to give the time of their absence to +Highbury; to spend, perhaps, her last months of perfect liberty with +those kind relations to whom she was so very dear: and the Campbells, +whatever might be their motive or motives, whether single, or double, or +treble, gave the arrangement their ready sanction, and said, that they +depended more on a few months spent in her native air, for the recovery +of her health, than on any thing else. Certain it was that she was to +come; and that Highbury, instead of welcoming that perfect novelty which +had been so long promised it--Mr. Frank Churchill--must put up for the +present with Jane Fairfax, who could bring only the freshness of a two +years' absence. + +Emma was sorry;--to have to pay civilities to a person she did not like +through three long months!--to be always doing more than she wished, +and less than she ought! Why she did not like Jane Fairfax might be a +difficult question to answer; Mr. Knightley had once told her it was +because she saw in her the really accomplished young woman, which she +wanted to be thought herself; and though the accusation had been eagerly +refuted at the time, there were moments of self-examination in which +her conscience could not quite acquit her. But “she could never get +acquainted with her: she did not know how it was, but there was such +coldness and reserve--such apparent indifference whether she pleased or +not--and then, her aunt was such an eternal talker!--and she was made +such a fuss with by every body!--and it had been always imagined that +they were to be so intimate--because their ages were the same, every +body had supposed they must be so fond of each other.” These were her +reasons--she had no better. + +It was a dislike so little just--every imputed fault was so magnified +by fancy, that she never saw Jane Fairfax the first time after any +considerable absence, without feeling that she had injured her; and +now, when the due visit was paid, on her arrival, after a two years' +interval, she was particularly struck with the very appearance and +manners, which for those two whole years she had been depreciating. Jane +Fairfax was very elegant, remarkably elegant; and she had herself the +highest value for elegance. Her height was pretty, just such as almost +every body would think tall, and nobody could think very tall; her +figure particularly graceful; her size a most becoming medium, between +fat and thin, though a slight appearance of ill-health seemed to point +out the likeliest evil of the two. Emma could not but feel all this; and +then, her face--her features--there was more beauty in them altogether +than she had remembered; it was not regular, but it was very pleasing +beauty. Her eyes, a deep grey, with dark eye-lashes and eyebrows, had +never been denied their praise; but the skin, which she had been used to +cavil at, as wanting colour, had a clearness and delicacy which really +needed no fuller bloom. It was a style of beauty, of which elegance was +the reigning character, and as such, she must, in honour, by all her +principles, admire it:--elegance, which, whether of person or of mind, +she saw so little in Highbury. There, not to be vulgar, was distinction, +and merit. + +In short, she sat, during the first visit, looking at Jane Fairfax with +twofold complacency; the sense of pleasure and the sense of rendering +justice, and was determining that she would dislike her no longer. When +she took in her history, indeed, her situation, as well as her beauty; +when she considered what all this elegance was destined to, what she was +going to sink from, how she was going to live, it seemed impossible +to feel any thing but compassion and respect; especially, if to every +well-known particular entitling her to interest, were added the highly +probable circumstance of an attachment to Mr. Dixon, which she had +so naturally started to herself. In that case, nothing could be more +pitiable or more honourable than the sacrifices she had resolved on. +Emma was very willing now to acquit her of having seduced Mr. Dixon's +actions from his wife, or of any thing mischievous which her imagination +had suggested at first. If it were love, it might be simple, single, +successless love on her side alone. She might have been unconsciously +sucking in the sad poison, while a sharer of his conversation with her +friend; and from the best, the purest of motives, might now be +denying herself this visit to Ireland, and resolving to divide herself +effectually from him and his connexions by soon beginning her career of +laborious duty. + +Upon the whole, Emma left her with such softened, charitable feelings, +as made her look around in walking home, and lament that Highbury +afforded no young man worthy of giving her independence; nobody that she +could wish to scheme about for her. + +These were charming feelings--but not lasting. Before she had committed +herself by any public profession of eternal friendship for Jane Fairfax, +or done more towards a recantation of past prejudices and errors, than +saying to Mr. Knightley, “She certainly is handsome; she is better than +handsome!” Jane had spent an evening at Hartfield with her grandmother +and aunt, and every thing was relapsing much into its usual state. +Former provocations reappeared. The aunt was as tiresome as ever; more +tiresome, because anxiety for her health was now added to admiration +of her powers; and they had to listen to the description of exactly how +little bread and butter she ate for breakfast, and how small a slice +of mutton for dinner, as well as to see exhibitions of new caps and new +workbags for her mother and herself; and Jane's offences rose again. +They had music; Emma was obliged to play; and the thanks and praise +which necessarily followed appeared to her an affectation of candour, an +air of greatness, meaning only to shew off in higher style her own very +superior performance. She was, besides, which was the worst of all, so +cold, so cautious! There was no getting at her real opinion. Wrapt up in +a cloak of politeness, she seemed determined to hazard nothing. She was +disgustingly, was suspiciously reserved. + +If any thing could be more, where all was most, she was more reserved on +the subject of Weymouth and the Dixons than any thing. She seemed bent +on giving no real insight into Mr. Dixon's character, or her own value +for his company, or opinion of the suitableness of the match. It was all +general approbation and smoothness; nothing delineated or distinguished. +It did her no service however. Her caution was thrown away. Emma saw +its artifice, and returned to her first surmises. There probably _was_ +something more to conceal than her own preference; Mr. Dixon, perhaps, +had been very near changing one friend for the other, or been fixed only +to Miss Campbell, for the sake of the future twelve thousand pounds. + +The like reserve prevailed on other topics. She and Mr. Frank Churchill +had been at Weymouth at the same time. It was known that they were a +little acquainted; but not a syllable of real information could Emma +procure as to what he truly was. “Was he handsome?”--“She believed +he was reckoned a very fine young man.” “Was he agreeable?”--“He was +generally thought so.” “Did he appear a sensible young man; a young +man of information?”--“At a watering-place, or in a common London +acquaintance, it was difficult to decide on such points. Manners were +all that could be safely judged of, under a much longer knowledge than +they had yet had of Mr. Churchill. She believed every body found his +manners pleasing.” Emma could not forgive her. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Emma could not forgive her;--but as neither provocation nor resentment +were discerned by Mr. Knightley, who had been of the party, and had +seen only proper attention and pleasing behaviour on each side, he was +expressing the next morning, being at Hartfield again on business with +Mr. Woodhouse, his approbation of the whole; not so openly as he might +have done had her father been out of the room, but speaking plain enough +to be very intelligible to Emma. He had been used to think her unjust to +Jane, and had now great pleasure in marking an improvement. + +“A very pleasant evening,” he began, as soon as Mr. Woodhouse had been +talked into what was necessary, told that he understood, and the papers +swept away;--“particularly pleasant. You and Miss Fairfax gave us some +very good music. I do not know a more luxurious state, sir, than sitting +at one's ease to be entertained a whole evening by two such young women; +sometimes with music and sometimes with conversation. I am sure Miss +Fairfax must have found the evening pleasant, Emma. You left nothing +undone. I was glad you made her play so much, for having no instrument +at her grandmother's, it must have been a real indulgence.” + +“I am happy you approved,” said Emma, smiling; “but I hope I am not +often deficient in what is due to guests at Hartfield.” + +“No, my dear,” said her father instantly; “_that_ I am sure you are not. +There is nobody half so attentive and civil as you are. If any thing, +you are too attentive. The muffin last night--if it had been handed +round once, I think it would have been enough.” + +“No,” said Mr. Knightley, nearly at the same time; “you are not often +deficient; not often deficient either in manner or comprehension. I +think you understand me, therefore.” + +An arch look expressed--“I understand you well enough;” but she said +only, “Miss Fairfax is reserved.” + +“I always told you she was--a little; but you will soon overcome all +that part of her reserve which ought to be overcome, all that has its +foundation in diffidence. What arises from discretion must be honoured.” + +“You think her diffident. I do not see it.” + +“My dear Emma,” said he, moving from his chair into one close by her, +“you are not going to tell me, I hope, that you had not a pleasant +evening.” + +“Oh! no; I was pleased with my own perseverance in asking questions; and +amused to think how little information I obtained.” + +“I am disappointed,” was his only answer. + +“I hope every body had a pleasant evening,” said Mr. Woodhouse, in his +quiet way. “I had. Once, I felt the fire rather too much; but then I +moved back my chair a little, a very little, and it did not disturb me. +Miss Bates was very chatty and good-humoured, as she always is, though +she speaks rather too quick. However, she is very agreeable, and Mrs. +Bates too, in a different way. I like old friends; and Miss Jane +Fairfax is a very pretty sort of young lady, a very pretty and a +very well-behaved young lady indeed. She must have found the evening +agreeable, Mr. Knightley, because she had Emma.” + +“True, sir; and Emma, because she had Miss Fairfax.” + +Emma saw his anxiety, and wishing to appease it, at least for the +present, said, and with a sincerity which no one could question-- + +“She is a sort of elegant creature that one cannot keep one's eyes from. +I am always watching her to admire; and I do pity her from my heart.” + +Mr. Knightley looked as if he were more gratified than he cared to +express; and before he could make any reply, Mr. Woodhouse, whose +thoughts were on the Bates's, said-- + +“It is a great pity that their circumstances should be so confined! a +great pity indeed! and I have often wished--but it is so little one can +venture to do--small, trifling presents, of any thing uncommon--Now we +have killed a porker, and Emma thinks of sending them a loin or a leg; +it is very small and delicate--Hartfield pork is not like any other +pork--but still it is pork--and, my dear Emma, unless one could be sure +of their making it into steaks, nicely fried, as ours are fried, without +the smallest grease, and not roast it, for no stomach can bear roast +pork--I think we had better send the leg--do not you think so, my dear?” + +“My dear papa, I sent the whole hind-quarter. I knew you would wish it. +There will be the leg to be salted, you know, which is so very nice, and +the loin to be dressed directly in any manner they like.” + +“That's right, my dear, very right. I had not thought of it before, but +that is the best way. They must not over-salt the leg; and then, if it +is not over-salted, and if it is very thoroughly boiled, just as Serle +boils ours, and eaten very moderately of, with a boiled turnip, and a +little carrot or parsnip, I do not consider it unwholesome.” + +“Emma,” said Mr. Knightley presently, “I have a piece of news for you. +You like news--and I heard an article in my way hither that I think will +interest you.” + +“News! Oh! yes, I always like news. What is it?--why do you smile +so?--where did you hear it?--at Randalls?” + +He had time only to say, + +“No, not at Randalls; I have not been near Randalls,” when the door was +thrown open, and Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax walked into the room. Full +of thanks, and full of news, Miss Bates knew not which to give quickest. +Mr. Knightley soon saw that he had lost his moment, and that not another +syllable of communication could rest with him. + +“Oh! my dear sir, how are you this morning? My dear Miss Woodhouse--I +come quite over-powered. Such a beautiful hind-quarter of pork! You +are too bountiful! Have you heard the news? Mr. Elton is going to be +married.” + +Emma had not had time even to think of Mr. Elton, and she was so +completely surprized that she could not avoid a little start, and a +little blush, at the sound. + +“There is my news:--I thought it would interest you,” said Mr. +Knightley, with a smile which implied a conviction of some part of what +had passed between them. + +“But where could _you_ hear it?” cried Miss Bates. “Where could you +possibly hear it, Mr. Knightley? For it is not five minutes since I +received Mrs. Cole's note--no, it cannot be more than five--or at least +ten--for I had got my bonnet and spencer on, just ready to come out--I +was only gone down to speak to Patty again about the pork--Jane was +standing in the passage--were not you, Jane?--for my mother was so +afraid that we had not any salting-pan large enough. So I said I would +go down and see, and Jane said, 'Shall I go down instead? for I think +you have a little cold, and Patty has been washing the kitchen.'--'Oh! +my dear,' said I--well, and just then came the note. A Miss +Hawkins--that's all I know. A Miss Hawkins of Bath. But, Mr. Knightley, +how could you possibly have heard it? for the very moment Mr. Cole told +Mrs. Cole of it, she sat down and wrote to me. A Miss Hawkins--” + +“I was with Mr. Cole on business an hour and a half ago. He had just +read Elton's letter as I was shewn in, and handed it to me directly.” + +“Well! that is quite--I suppose there never was a piece of news more +generally interesting. My dear sir, you really are too bountiful. My +mother desires her very best compliments and regards, and a thousand +thanks, and says you really quite oppress her.” + +“We consider our Hartfield pork,” replied Mr. Woodhouse--“indeed it +certainly is, so very superior to all other pork, that Emma and I cannot +have a greater pleasure than--” + +“Oh! my dear sir, as my mother says, our friends are only too good +to us. If ever there were people who, without having great wealth +themselves, had every thing they could wish for, I am sure it is us. +We may well say that 'our lot is cast in a goodly heritage.' Well, Mr. +Knightley, and so you actually saw the letter; well--” + +“It was short--merely to announce--but cheerful, exulting, of course.”-- +Here was a sly glance at Emma. “He had been so fortunate as to--I forget +the precise words--one has no business to remember them. The information +was, as you state, that he was going to be married to a Miss Hawkins. By +his style, I should imagine it just settled.” + +“Mr. Elton going to be married!” said Emma, as soon as she could speak. +“He will have every body's wishes for his happiness.” + +“He is very young to settle,” was Mr. Woodhouse's observation. “He had +better not be in a hurry. He seemed to me very well off as he was. We +were always glad to see him at Hartfield.” + +“A new neighbour for us all, Miss Woodhouse!” said Miss Bates, joyfully; +“my mother is so pleased!--she says she cannot bear to have the poor old +Vicarage without a mistress. This is great news, indeed. Jane, you have +never seen Mr. Elton!--no wonder that you have such a curiosity to see +him.” + +Jane's curiosity did not appear of that absorbing nature as wholly to +occupy her. + +“No--I have never seen Mr. Elton,” she replied, starting on this appeal; +“is he--is he a tall man?” + +“Who shall answer that question?” cried Emma. “My father would say +'yes,' Mr. Knightley 'no;' and Miss Bates and I that he is just the +happy medium. When you have been here a little longer, Miss Fairfax, +you will understand that Mr. Elton is the standard of perfection in +Highbury, both in person and mind.” + +“Very true, Miss Woodhouse, so she will. He is the very best young +man--But, my dear Jane, if you remember, I told you yesterday he +was precisely the height of Mr. Perry. Miss Hawkins,--I dare say, an +excellent young woman. His extreme attention to my mother--wanting +her to sit in the vicarage pew, that she might hear the better, for my +mother is a little deaf, you know--it is not much, but she does not +hear quite quick. Jane says that Colonel Campbell is a little deaf. He +fancied bathing might be good for it--the warm bath--but she says it did +him no lasting benefit. Colonel Campbell, you know, is quite our angel. +And Mr. Dixon seems a very charming young man, quite worthy of him. It +is such a happiness when good people get together--and they always do. +Now, here will be Mr. Elton and Miss Hawkins; and there are the Coles, +such very good people; and the Perrys--I suppose there never was a +happier or a better couple than Mr. and Mrs. Perry. I say, sir,” turning +to Mr. Woodhouse, “I think there are few places with such society as +Highbury. I always say, we are quite blessed in our neighbours.--My dear +sir, if there is one thing my mother loves better than another, it is +pork--a roast loin of pork--” + +“As to who, or what Miss Hawkins is, or how long he has been acquainted +with her,” said Emma, “nothing I suppose can be known. One feels that it +cannot be a very long acquaintance. He has been gone only four weeks.” + +Nobody had any information to give; and, after a few more wonderings, +Emma said, + +“You are silent, Miss Fairfax--but I hope you mean to take an interest +in this news. You, who have been hearing and seeing so much of late +on these subjects, who must have been so deep in the business on Miss +Campbell's account--we shall not excuse your being indifferent about Mr. +Elton and Miss Hawkins.” + +“When I have seen Mr. Elton,” replied Jane, “I dare say I shall be +interested--but I believe it requires _that_ with me. And as it is some +months since Miss Campbell married, the impression may be a little worn +off.” + +“Yes, he has been gone just four weeks, as you observe, Miss Woodhouse,” + said Miss Bates, “four weeks yesterday.--A Miss Hawkins!--Well, I had +always rather fancied it would be some young lady hereabouts; not that +I ever--Mrs. Cole once whispered to me--but I immediately said, 'No, Mr. +Elton is a most worthy young man--but'--In short, I do not think I am +particularly quick at those sort of discoveries. I do not pretend to it. +What is before me, I see. At the same time, nobody could wonder if +Mr. Elton should have aspired--Miss Woodhouse lets me chatter on, so +good-humouredly. She knows I would not offend for the world. How does +Miss Smith do? She seems quite recovered now. Have you heard from Mrs. +John Knightley lately? Oh! those dear little children. Jane, do you +know I always fancy Mr. Dixon like Mr. John Knightley. I mean in +person--tall, and with that sort of look--and not very talkative.” + +“Quite wrong, my dear aunt; there is no likeness at all.” + +“Very odd! but one never does form a just idea of any body beforehand. +One takes up a notion, and runs away with it. Mr. Dixon, you say, is +not, strictly speaking, handsome?” + +“Handsome! Oh! no--far from it--certainly plain. I told you he was +plain.” + +“My dear, you said that Miss Campbell would not allow him to be plain, +and that you yourself--” + +“Oh! as for me, my judgment is worth nothing. Where I have a regard, +I always think a person well-looking. But I gave what I believed the +general opinion, when I called him plain.” + +“Well, my dear Jane, I believe we must be running away. The weather does +not look well, and grandmama will be uneasy. You are too obliging, my +dear Miss Woodhouse; but we really must take leave. This has been a most +agreeable piece of news indeed. I shall just go round by Mrs. Cole's; +but I shall not stop three minutes: and, Jane, you had better go home +directly--I would not have you out in a shower!--We think she is the +better for Highbury already. Thank you, we do indeed. I shall not +attempt calling on Mrs. Goddard, for I really do not think she cares for +any thing but _boiled_ pork: when we dress the leg it will be another +thing. Good morning to you, my dear sir. Oh! Mr. Knightley is coming +too. Well, that is so very!--I am sure if Jane is tired, you will be +so kind as to give her your arm.--Mr. Elton, and Miss Hawkins!--Good +morning to you.” + +Emma, alone with her father, had half her attention wanted by him while +he lamented that young people would be in such a hurry to marry--and to +marry strangers too--and the other half she could give to her own view +of the subject. It was to herself an amusing and a very welcome piece +of news, as proving that Mr. Elton could not have suffered long; but she +was sorry for Harriet: Harriet must feel it--and all that she could hope +was, by giving the first information herself, to save her from hearing +it abruptly from others. It was now about the time that she was likely +to call. If she were to meet Miss Bates in her way!--and upon its +beginning to rain, Emma was obliged to expect that the weather would +be detaining her at Mrs. Goddard's, and that the intelligence would +undoubtedly rush upon her without preparation. + +The shower was heavy, but short; and it had not been over five minutes, +when in came Harriet, with just the heated, agitated look which +hurrying thither with a full heart was likely to give; and the “Oh! Miss +Woodhouse, what do you think has happened!” which instantly burst forth, +had all the evidence of corresponding perturbation. As the blow was +given, Emma felt that she could not now shew greater kindness than in +listening; and Harriet, unchecked, ran eagerly through what she had to +tell. “She had set out from Mrs. Goddard's half an hour ago--she had +been afraid it would rain--she had been afraid it would pour down +every moment--but she thought she might get to Hartfield first--she +had hurried on as fast as possible; but then, as she was passing by the +house where a young woman was making up a gown for her, she thought she +would just step in and see how it went on; and though she did not seem +to stay half a moment there, soon after she came out it began to rain, +and she did not know what to do; so she ran on directly, as fast as +she could, and took shelter at Ford's.”--Ford's was the principal +woollen-draper, linen-draper, and haberdasher's shop united; the shop +first in size and fashion in the place.--“And so, there she had +set, without an idea of any thing in the world, full ten minutes, +perhaps--when, all of a sudden, who should come in--to be sure it was +so very odd!--but they always dealt at Ford's--who should come in, but +Elizabeth Martin and her brother!--Dear Miss Woodhouse! only think. I +thought I should have fainted. I did not know what to do. I was sitting +near the door--Elizabeth saw me directly; but he did not; he was busy +with the umbrella. I am sure she saw me, but she looked away directly, +and took no notice; and they both went to quite the farther end of the +shop; and I kept sitting near the door!--Oh! dear; I was so miserable! +I am sure I must have been as white as my gown. I could not go away +you know, because of the rain; but I did so wish myself anywhere in the +world but there.--Oh! dear, Miss Woodhouse--well, at last, I fancy, he +looked round and saw me; for instead of going on with her buyings, they +began whispering to one another. I am sure they were talking of me; and +I could not help thinking that he was persuading her to speak to me--(do +you think he was, Miss Woodhouse?)--for presently she came forward--came +quite up to me, and asked me how I did, and seemed ready to shake hands, +if I would. She did not do any of it in the same way that she used; I +could see she was altered; but, however, she seemed to _try_ to be very +friendly, and we shook hands, and stood talking some time; but I know no +more what I said--I was in such a tremble!--I remember she said she +was sorry we never met now; which I thought almost too kind! Dear, Miss +Woodhouse, I was absolutely miserable! By that time, it was beginning to +hold up, and I was determined that nothing should stop me from getting +away--and then--only think!--I found he was coming up towards me +too--slowly you know, and as if he did not quite know what to do; and +so he came and spoke, and I answered--and I stood for a minute, feeling +dreadfully, you know, one can't tell how; and then I took courage, and +said it did not rain, and I must go; and so off I set; and I had not got +three yards from the door, when he came after me, only to say, if I was +going to Hartfield, he thought I had much better go round by Mr. Cole's +stables, for I should find the near way quite floated by this rain. Oh! +dear, I thought it would have been the death of me! So I said, I was +very much obliged to him: you know I could not do less; and then he went +back to Elizabeth, and I came round by the stables--I believe I did--but +I hardly knew where I was, or any thing about it. Oh! Miss Woodhouse, +I would rather done any thing than have it happen: and yet, you know, +there was a sort of satisfaction in seeing him behave so pleasantly and +so kindly. And Elizabeth, too. Oh! Miss Woodhouse, do talk to me and +make me comfortable again.” + +Very sincerely did Emma wish to do so; but it was not immediately in +her power. She was obliged to stop and think. She was not thoroughly +comfortable herself. The young man's conduct, and his sister's, seemed +the result of real feeling, and she could not but pity them. As Harriet +described it, there had been an interesting mixture of wounded affection +and genuine delicacy in their behaviour. But she had believed them to be +well-meaning, worthy people before; and what difference did this make +in the evils of the connexion? It was folly to be disturbed by it. Of +course, he must be sorry to lose her--they must be all sorry. Ambition, +as well as love, had probably been mortified. They might all have hoped +to rise by Harriet's acquaintance: and besides, what was the value of +Harriet's description?--So easily pleased--so little discerning;--what +signified her praise? + +She exerted herself, and did try to make her comfortable, by considering +all that had passed as a mere trifle, and quite unworthy of being dwelt +on, + +“It might be distressing, for the moment,” said she; “but you seem to +have behaved extremely well; and it is over--and may never--can never, +as a first meeting, occur again, and therefore you need not think about +it.” + +Harriet said, “very true,” and she “would not think about it;” but still +she talked of it--still she could talk of nothing else; and Emma, at +last, in order to put the Martins out of her head, was obliged to hurry +on the news, which she had meant to give with so much tender caution; +hardly knowing herself whether to rejoice or be angry, ashamed or only +amused, at such a state of mind in poor Harriet--such a conclusion of +Mr. Elton's importance with her! + +Mr. Elton's rights, however, gradually revived. Though she did not feel +the first intelligence as she might have done the day before, or an hour +before, its interest soon increased; and before their first conversation +was over, she had talked herself into all the sensations of curiosity, +wonder and regret, pain and pleasure, as to this fortunate Miss Hawkins, +which could conduce to place the Martins under proper subordination in +her fancy. + +Emma learned to be rather glad that there had been such a meeting. It +had been serviceable in deadening the first shock, without retaining any +influence to alarm. As Harriet now lived, the Martins could not get +at her, without seeking her, where hitherto they had wanted either the +courage or the condescension to seek her; for since her refusal of the +brother, the sisters never had been at Mrs. Goddard's; and a twelvemonth +might pass without their being thrown together again, with any +necessity, or even any power of speech. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Human nature is so well disposed towards those who are in interesting +situations, that a young person, who either marries or dies, is sure of +being kindly spoken of. + +A week had not passed since Miss Hawkins's name was first mentioned in +Highbury, before she was, by some means or other, discovered to have +every recommendation of person and mind; to be handsome, elegant, highly +accomplished, and perfectly amiable: and when Mr. Elton himself arrived +to triumph in his happy prospects, and circulate the fame of her merits, +there was very little more for him to do, than to tell her Christian +name, and say whose music she principally played. + +Mr. Elton returned, a very happy man. He had gone away rejected and +mortified--disappointed in a very sanguine hope, after a series of what +appeared to him strong encouragement; and not only losing the right +lady, but finding himself debased to the level of a very wrong one. He +had gone away deeply offended--he came back engaged to another--and +to another as superior, of course, to the first, as under such +circumstances what is gained always is to what is lost. He came back gay +and self-satisfied, eager and busy, caring nothing for Miss Woodhouse, +and defying Miss Smith. + +The charming Augusta Hawkins, in addition to all the usual advantages of +perfect beauty and merit, was in possession of an independent fortune, +of so many thousands as would always be called ten; a point of some +dignity, as well as some convenience: the story told well; he had not +thrown himself away--he had gained a woman of 10,000 l. or thereabouts; +and he had gained her with such delightful rapidity--the first hour of +introduction had been so very soon followed by distinguishing notice; +the history which he had to give Mrs. Cole of the rise and progress +of the affair was so glorious--the steps so quick, from the accidental +rencontre, to the dinner at Mr. Green's, and the party at Mrs. +Brown's--smiles and blushes rising in importance--with consciousness and +agitation richly scattered--the lady had been so easily impressed--so +sweetly disposed--had in short, to use a most intelligible phrase, +been so very ready to have him, that vanity and prudence were equally +contented. + +He had caught both substance and shadow--both fortune and affection, and +was just the happy man he ought to be; talking only of himself and +his own concerns--expecting to be congratulated--ready to be laughed +at--and, with cordial, fearless smiles, now addressing all the young +ladies of the place, to whom, a few weeks ago, he would have been more +cautiously gallant. + +The wedding was no distant event, as the parties had only themselves to +please, and nothing but the necessary preparations to wait for; and +when he set out for Bath again, there was a general expectation, which +a certain glance of Mrs. Cole's did not seem to contradict, that when he +next entered Highbury he would bring his bride. + +During his present short stay, Emma had barely seen him; but just enough +to feel that the first meeting was over, and to give her the impression +of his not being improved by the mixture of pique and pretension, now +spread over his air. She was, in fact, beginning very much to wonder +that she had ever thought him pleasing at all; and his sight was so +inseparably connected with some very disagreeable feelings, that, +except in a moral light, as a penance, a lesson, a source of profitable +humiliation to her own mind, she would have been thankful to be assured +of never seeing him again. She wished him very well; but he gave +her pain, and his welfare twenty miles off would administer most +satisfaction. + +The pain of his continued residence in Highbury, however, must +certainly be lessened by his marriage. Many vain solicitudes would be +prevented--many awkwardnesses smoothed by it. A _Mrs._ _Elton_ would +be an excuse for any change of intercourse; former intimacy might sink +without remark. It would be almost beginning their life of civility +again. + +Of the lady, individually, Emma thought very little. She was good enough +for Mr. Elton, no doubt; accomplished enough for Highbury--handsome +enough--to look plain, probably, by Harriet's side. As to connexion, +there Emma was perfectly easy; persuaded, that after all his own vaunted +claims and disdain of Harriet, he had done nothing. On that article, +truth seemed attainable. _What_ she was, must be uncertain; but _who_ +she was, might be found out; and setting aside the 10,000 l., it did not +appear that she was at all Harriet's superior. She brought no name, no +blood, no alliance. Miss Hawkins was the youngest of the two daughters +of a Bristol--merchant, of course, he must be called; but, as the whole +of the profits of his mercantile life appeared so very moderate, it +was not unfair to guess the dignity of his line of trade had been very +moderate also. Part of every winter she had been used to spend in Bath; +but Bristol was her home, the very heart of Bristol; for though the +father and mother had died some years ago, an uncle remained--in the law +line--nothing more distinctly honourable was hazarded of him, than +that he was in the law line; and with him the daughter had lived. Emma +guessed him to be the drudge of some attorney, and too stupid to rise. +And all the grandeur of the connexion seemed dependent on the elder +sister, who was _very_ _well_ _married_, to a gentleman in a _great_ +_way_, near Bristol, who kept two carriages! That was the wind-up of the +history; that was the glory of Miss Hawkins. + +Could she but have given Harriet her feelings about it all! She had +talked her into love; but, alas! she was not so easily to be talked out +of it. The charm of an object to occupy the many vacancies of Harriet's +mind was not to be talked away. He might be superseded by another; he +certainly would indeed; nothing could be clearer; even a Robert Martin +would have been sufficient; but nothing else, she feared, would cure +her. Harriet was one of those, who, having once begun, would be always +in love. And now, poor girl! she was considerably worse from this +reappearance of Mr. Elton. She was always having a glimpse of him +somewhere or other. Emma saw him only once; but two or three times every +day Harriet was sure _just_ to meet with him, or _just_ to miss him, +_just_ to hear his voice, or see his shoulder, _just_ to have something +occur to preserve him in her fancy, in all the favouring warmth of +surprize and conjecture. She was, moreover, perpetually hearing about +him; for, excepting when at Hartfield, she was always among those who +saw no fault in Mr. Elton, and found nothing so interesting as +the discussion of his concerns; and every report, therefore, every +guess--all that had already occurred, all that might occur in the +arrangement of his affairs, comprehending income, servants, and +furniture, was continually in agitation around her. Her regard was +receiving strength by invariable praise of him, and her regrets kept +alive, and feelings irritated by ceaseless repetitions of Miss +Hawkins's happiness, and continual observation of, how much he seemed +attached!--his air as he walked by the house--the very sitting of his +hat, being all in proof of how much he was in love! + +Had it been allowable entertainment, had there been no pain to her +friend, or reproach to herself, in the waverings of Harriet's mind, +Emma would have been amused by its variations. Sometimes Mr. Elton +predominated, sometimes the Martins; and each was occasionally useful +as a check to the other. Mr. Elton's engagement had been the cure of +the agitation of meeting Mr. Martin. The unhappiness produced by the +knowledge of that engagement had been a little put aside by Elizabeth +Martin's calling at Mrs. Goddard's a few days afterwards. Harriet had +not been at home; but a note had been prepared and left for her, written +in the very style to touch; a small mixture of reproach, with a great +deal of kindness; and till Mr. Elton himself appeared, she had been much +occupied by it, continually pondering over what could be done in return, +and wishing to do more than she dared to confess. But Mr. Elton, in +person, had driven away all such cares. While he staid, the Martins were +forgotten; and on the very morning of his setting off for Bath again, +Emma, to dissipate some of the distress it occasioned, judged it best +for her to return Elizabeth Martin's visit. + +How that visit was to be acknowledged--what would be necessary--and +what might be safest, had been a point of some doubtful consideration. +Absolute neglect of the mother and sisters, when invited to come, would +be ingratitude. It must not be: and yet the danger of a renewal of the +acquaintance--! + +After much thinking, she could determine on nothing better, than +Harriet's returning the visit; but in a way that, if they had +understanding, should convince them that it was to be only a formal +acquaintance. She meant to take her in the carriage, leave her at the +Abbey Mill, while she drove a little farther, and call for her again +so soon, as to allow no time for insidious applications or dangerous +recurrences to the past, and give the most decided proof of what degree +of intimacy was chosen for the future. + +She could think of nothing better: and though there was something in it +which her own heart could not approve--something of ingratitude, merely +glossed over--it must be done, or what would become of Harriet? + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Small heart had Harriet for visiting. Only half an hour before her +friend called for her at Mrs. Goddard's, her evil stars had led her +to the very spot where, at that moment, a trunk, directed to _The Rev. +Philip Elton, White-Hart, Bath_, was to be seen under the operation of +being lifted into the butcher's cart, which was to convey it to where +the coaches past; and every thing in this world, excepting that trunk +and the direction, was consequently a blank. + +She went, however; and when they reached the farm, and she was to be +put down, at the end of the broad, neat gravel walk, which led between +espalier apple-trees to the front door, the sight of every thing which +had given her so much pleasure the autumn before, was beginning to +revive a little local agitation; and when they parted, Emma observed her +to be looking around with a sort of fearful curiosity, which determined +her not to allow the visit to exceed the proposed quarter of an hour. +She went on herself, to give that portion of time to an old servant who +was married, and settled in Donwell. + +The quarter of an hour brought her punctually to the white gate again; +and Miss Smith receiving her summons, was with her without delay, and +unattended by any alarming young man. She came solitarily down the +gravel walk--a Miss Martin just appearing at the door, and parting with +her seemingly with ceremonious civility. + +Harriet could not very soon give an intelligible account. She was +feeling too much; but at last Emma collected from her enough to +understand the sort of meeting, and the sort of pain it was creating. +She had seen only Mrs. Martin and the two girls. They had received her +doubtingly, if not coolly; and nothing beyond the merest commonplace had +been talked almost all the time--till just at last, when Mrs. Martin's +saying, all of a sudden, that she thought Miss Smith was grown, had +brought on a more interesting subject, and a warmer manner. In that very +room she had been measured last September, with her two friends. There +were the pencilled marks and memorandums on the wainscot by the window. +_He_ had done it. They all seemed to remember the day, the hour, +the party, the occasion--to feel the same consciousness, the same +regrets--to be ready to return to the same good understanding; and they +were just growing again like themselves, (Harriet, as Emma must suspect, +as ready as the best of them to be cordial and happy,) when the carriage +reappeared, and all was over. The style of the visit, and the shortness +of it, were then felt to be decisive. Fourteen minutes to be given +to those with whom she had thankfully passed six weeks not six months +ago!--Emma could not but picture it all, and feel how justly they might +resent, how naturally Harriet must suffer. It was a bad business. She +would have given a great deal, or endured a great deal, to have had +the Martins in a higher rank of life. They were so deserving, that a +_little_ higher should have been enough: but as it was, how could she +have done otherwise?--Impossible!--She could not repent. They must be +separated; but there was a great deal of pain in the process--so much +to herself at this time, that she soon felt the necessity of a little +consolation, and resolved on going home by way of Randalls to +procure it. Her mind was quite sick of Mr. Elton and the Martins. The +refreshment of Randalls was absolutely necessary. + +It was a good scheme; but on driving to the door they heard that neither +“master nor mistress was at home;” they had both been out some time; the +man believed they were gone to Hartfield. + +“This is too bad,” cried Emma, as they turned away. “And now we shall +just miss them; too provoking!--I do not know when I have been so +disappointed.” And she leaned back in the corner, to indulge her +murmurs, or to reason them away; probably a little of both--such being +the commonest process of a not ill-disposed mind. Presently the carriage +stopt; she looked up; it was stopt by Mr. and Mrs. Weston, who were +standing to speak to her. There was instant pleasure in the sight of +them, and still greater pleasure was conveyed in sound--for Mr. Weston +immediately accosted her with, + +“How d'ye do?--how d'ye do?--We have been sitting with your father--glad +to see him so well. Frank comes to-morrow--I had a letter this +morning--we see him to-morrow by dinner-time to a certainty--he is at +Oxford to-day, and he comes for a whole fortnight; I knew it would be +so. If he had come at Christmas he could not have staid three days; I +was always glad he did not come at Christmas; now we are going to have +just the right weather for him, fine, dry, settled weather. We shall +enjoy him completely; every thing has turned out exactly as we could +wish.” + +There was no resisting such news, no possibility of avoiding the +influence of such a happy face as Mr. Weston's, confirmed as it all was +by the words and the countenance of his wife, fewer and quieter, but not +less to the purpose. To know that _she_ thought his coming certain was +enough to make Emma consider it so, and sincerely did she rejoice in +their joy. It was a most delightful reanimation of exhausted spirits. +The worn-out past was sunk in the freshness of what was coming; and in +the rapidity of half a moment's thought, she hoped Mr. Elton would now +be talked of no more. + +Mr. Weston gave her the history of the engagements at Enscombe, which +allowed his son to answer for having an entire fortnight at his command, +as well as the route and the method of his journey; and she listened, +and smiled, and congratulated. + +“I shall soon bring him over to Hartfield,” said he, at the conclusion. + +Emma could imagine she saw a touch of the arm at this speech, from his +wife. + +“We had better move on, Mr. Weston,” said she, “we are detaining the +girls.” + +“Well, well, I am ready;”--and turning again to Emma, “but you must +not be expecting such a _very_ fine young man; you have only +had _my_ account you know; I dare say he is really nothing +extraordinary:”--though his own sparkling eyes at the moment were +speaking a very different conviction. + +Emma could look perfectly unconscious and innocent, and answer in a +manner that appropriated nothing. + +“Think of me to-morrow, my dear Emma, about four o'clock,” was Mrs. +Weston's parting injunction; spoken with some anxiety, and meant only +for her. + +“Four o'clock!--depend upon it he will be here by three,” was Mr. +Weston's quick amendment; and so ended a most satisfactory meeting. +Emma's spirits were mounted quite up to happiness; every thing wore +a different air; James and his horses seemed not half so sluggish as +before. When she looked at the hedges, she thought the elder at least +must soon be coming out; and when she turned round to Harriet, she saw +something like a look of spring, a tender smile even there. + +“Will Mr. Frank Churchill pass through Bath as well as Oxford?”--was a +question, however, which did not augur much. + +But neither geography nor tranquillity could come all at once, and Emma +was now in a humour to resolve that they should both come in time. + +The morning of the interesting day arrived, and Mrs. Weston's faithful +pupil did not forget either at ten, or eleven, or twelve o'clock, that +she was to think of her at four. + +“My dear, dear anxious friend,”--said she, in mental soliloquy, while +walking downstairs from her own room, “always overcareful for every +body's comfort but your own; I see you now in all your little fidgets, +going again and again into his room, to be sure that all is right.” + The clock struck twelve as she passed through the hall. “'Tis twelve; +I shall not forget to think of you four hours hence; and by this +time to-morrow, perhaps, or a little later, I may be thinking of the +possibility of their all calling here. I am sure they will bring him +soon.” + +She opened the parlour door, and saw two gentlemen sitting with her +father--Mr. Weston and his son. They had been arrived only a few +minutes, and Mr. Weston had scarcely finished his explanation of Frank's +being a day before his time, and her father was yet in the midst of his +very civil welcome and congratulations, when she appeared, to have her +share of surprize, introduction, and pleasure. + +The Frank Churchill so long talked of, so high in interest, was actually +before her--he was presented to her, and she did not think too much had +been said in his praise; he was a _very_ good looking young man; height, +air, address, all were unexceptionable, and his countenance had a great +deal of the spirit and liveliness of his father's; he looked quick and +sensible. She felt immediately that she should like him; and there was +a well-bred ease of manner, and a readiness to talk, which convinced her +that he came intending to be acquainted with her, and that acquainted +they soon must be. + +He had reached Randalls the evening before. She was pleased with the +eagerness to arrive which had made him alter his plan, and travel +earlier, later, and quicker, that he might gain half a day. + +“I told you yesterday,” cried Mr. Weston with exultation, “I told you +all that he would be here before the time named. I remembered what I +used to do myself. One cannot creep upon a journey; one cannot help +getting on faster than one has planned; and the pleasure of coming in +upon one's friends before the look-out begins, is worth a great deal +more than any little exertion it needs.” + +“It is a great pleasure where one can indulge in it,” said the young +man, “though there are not many houses that I should presume on so far; +but in coming _home_ I felt I might do any thing.” + +The word _home_ made his father look on him with fresh complacency. +Emma was directly sure that he knew how to make himself agreeable; the +conviction was strengthened by what followed. He was very much pleased +with Randalls, thought it a most admirably arranged house, would hardly +allow it even to be very small, admired the situation, the walk to +Highbury, Highbury itself, Hartfield still more, and professed himself +to have always felt the sort of interest in the country which none but +one's _own_ country gives, and the greatest curiosity to visit it. That +he should never have been able to indulge so amiable a feeling before, +passed suspiciously through Emma's brain; but still, if it were a +falsehood, it was a pleasant one, and pleasantly handled. His manner had +no air of study or exaggeration. He did really look and speak as if in a +state of no common enjoyment. + +Their subjects in general were such as belong to an opening +acquaintance. On his side were the inquiries,--“Was she a +horsewoman?--Pleasant rides?--Pleasant walks?--Had they a large +neighbourhood?--Highbury, perhaps, afforded society enough?--There were +several very pretty houses in and about it.--Balls--had they balls?--Was +it a musical society?” + +But when satisfied on all these points, and their acquaintance +proportionably advanced, he contrived to find an opportunity, while +their two fathers were engaged with each other, of introducing his +mother-in-law, and speaking of her with so much handsome praise, so much +warm admiration, so much gratitude for the happiness she secured to his +father, and her very kind reception of himself, as was an additional +proof of his knowing how to please--and of his certainly thinking it +worth while to try to please her. He did not advance a word of praise +beyond what she knew to be thoroughly deserved by Mrs. Weston; but, +undoubtedly he could know very little of the matter. He understood +what would be welcome; he could be sure of little else. “His father's +marriage,” he said, “had been the wisest measure, every friend must +rejoice in it; and the family from whom he had received such a blessing +must be ever considered as having conferred the highest obligation on +him.” + +He got as near as he could to thanking her for Miss Taylor's merits, +without seeming quite to forget that in the common course of things it +was to be rather supposed that Miss Taylor had formed Miss Woodhouse's +character, than Miss Woodhouse Miss Taylor's. And at last, as if +resolved to qualify his opinion completely for travelling round to its +object, he wound it all up with astonishment at the youth and beauty of +her person. + +“Elegant, agreeable manners, I was prepared for,” said he; “but I +confess that, considering every thing, I had not expected more than a +very tolerably well-looking woman of a certain age; I did not know that +I was to find a pretty young woman in Mrs. Weston.” + +“You cannot see too much perfection in Mrs. Weston for my feelings,” + said Emma; “were you to guess her to be _eighteen_, I should listen with +pleasure; but _she_ would be ready to quarrel with you for using such +words. Don't let her imagine that you have spoken of her as a pretty +young woman.” + +“I hope I should know better,” he replied; “no, depend upon it, (with a +gallant bow,) that in addressing Mrs. Weston I should understand whom +I might praise without any danger of being thought extravagant in my +terms.” + +Emma wondered whether the same suspicion of what might be expected from +their knowing each other, which had taken strong possession of her mind, +had ever crossed his; and whether his compliments were to be considered +as marks of acquiescence, or proofs of defiance. She must see more +of him to understand his ways; at present she only felt they were +agreeable. + +She had no doubt of what Mr. Weston was often thinking about. His quick +eye she detected again and again glancing towards them with a happy +expression; and even, when he might have determined not to look, she was +confident that he was often listening. + +Her own father's perfect exemption from any thought of the kind, the +entire deficiency in him of all such sort of penetration or suspicion, +was a most comfortable circumstance. Happily he was not farther from +approving matrimony than from foreseeing it.--Though always objecting +to every marriage that was arranged, he never suffered beforehand from +the apprehension of any; it seemed as if he could not think so ill of +any two persons' understanding as to suppose they meant to marry till it +were proved against them. She blessed the favouring blindness. He could +now, without the drawback of a single unpleasant surmise, without a +glance forward at any possible treachery in his guest, give way to all +his natural kind-hearted civility in solicitous inquiries after Mr. +Frank Churchill's accommodation on his journey, through the sad evils +of sleeping two nights on the road, and express very genuine unmixed +anxiety to know that he had certainly escaped catching cold--which, +however, he could not allow him to feel quite assured of himself till +after another night. + +A reasonable visit paid, Mr. Weston began to move.--“He must be going. +He had business at the Crown about his hay, and a great many errands for +Mrs. Weston at Ford's, but he need not hurry any body else.” His son, +too well bred to hear the hint, rose immediately also, saying, + +“As you are going farther on business, sir, I will take the opportunity +of paying a visit, which must be paid some day or other, and therefore +may as well be paid now. I have the honour of being acquainted with +a neighbour of yours, (turning to Emma,) a lady residing in or near +Highbury; a family of the name of Fairfax. I shall have no difficulty, +I suppose, in finding the house; though Fairfax, I believe, is not +the proper name--I should rather say Barnes, or Bates. Do you know any +family of that name?” + +“To be sure we do,” cried his father; “Mrs. Bates--we passed her +house--I saw Miss Bates at the window. True, true, you are acquainted +with Miss Fairfax; I remember you knew her at Weymouth, and a fine girl +she is. Call upon her, by all means.” + +“There is no necessity for my calling this morning,” said the young man; +“another day would do as well; but there was that degree of acquaintance +at Weymouth which--” + +“Oh! go to-day, go to-day. Do not defer it. What is right to be done +cannot be done too soon. And, besides, I must give you a hint, Frank; +any want of attention to her _here_ should be carefully avoided. You saw +her with the Campbells, when she was the equal of every body she mixed +with, but here she is with a poor old grandmother, who has barely enough +to live on. If you do not call early it will be a slight.” + +The son looked convinced. + +“I have heard her speak of the acquaintance,” said Emma; “she is a very +elegant young woman.” + +He agreed to it, but with so quiet a “Yes,” as inclined her almost to +doubt his real concurrence; and yet there must be a very distinct sort +of elegance for the fashionable world, if Jane Fairfax could be thought +only ordinarily gifted with it. + +“If you were never particularly struck by her manners before,” said she, +“I think you will to-day. You will see her to advantage; see her and +hear her--no, I am afraid you will not hear her at all, for she has an +aunt who never holds her tongue.” + +“You are acquainted with Miss Jane Fairfax, sir, are you?” said Mr. +Woodhouse, always the last to make his way in conversation; “then give +me leave to assure you that you will find her a very agreeable young +lady. She is staying here on a visit to her grandmama and aunt, very +worthy people; I have known them all my life. They will be extremely +glad to see you, I am sure; and one of my servants shall go with you to +shew you the way.” + +“My dear sir, upon no account in the world; my father can direct me.” + +“But your father is not going so far; he is only going to the Crown, +quite on the other side of the street, and there are a great many +houses; you might be very much at a loss, and it is a very dirty walk, +unless you keep on the footpath; but my coachman can tell you where you +had best cross the street.” + +Mr. Frank Churchill still declined it, looking as serious as he could, +and his father gave his hearty support by calling out, “My good friend, +this is quite unnecessary; Frank knows a puddle of water when he sees +it, and as to Mrs. Bates's, he may get there from the Crown in a hop, +step, and jump.” + +They were permitted to go alone; and with a cordial nod from one, and a +graceful bow from the other, the two gentlemen took leave. Emma remained +very well pleased with this beginning of the acquaintance, and could now +engage to think of them all at Randalls any hour of the day, with full +confidence in their comfort. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The next morning brought Mr. Frank Churchill again. He came with Mrs. +Weston, to whom and to Highbury he seemed to take very cordially. He had +been sitting with her, it appeared, most companionably at home, till +her usual hour of exercise; and on being desired to chuse their walk, +immediately fixed on Highbury.--“He did not doubt there being very +pleasant walks in every direction, but if left to him, he should always +chuse the same. Highbury, that airy, cheerful, happy-looking Highbury, +would be his constant attraction.”--Highbury, with Mrs. Weston, stood +for Hartfield; and she trusted to its bearing the same construction with +him. They walked thither directly. + +Emma had hardly expected them: for Mr. Weston, who had called in for +half a minute, in order to hear that his son was very handsome, knew +nothing of their plans; and it was an agreeable surprize to her, +therefore, to perceive them walking up to the house together, arm in +arm. She was wanting to see him again, and especially to see him in +company with Mrs. Weston, upon his behaviour to whom her opinion of him +was to depend. If he were deficient there, nothing should make amends +for it. But on seeing them together, she became perfectly satisfied. It +was not merely in fine words or hyperbolical compliment that he paid his +duty; nothing could be more proper or pleasing than his whole manner to +her--nothing could more agreeably denote his wish of considering her as +a friend and securing her affection. And there was time enough for Emma +to form a reasonable judgment, as their visit included all the rest of +the morning. They were all three walking about together for an hour +or two--first round the shrubberies of Hartfield, and afterwards +in Highbury. He was delighted with every thing; admired Hartfield +sufficiently for Mr. Woodhouse's ear; and when their going farther was +resolved on, confessed his wish to be made acquainted with the whole +village, and found matter of commendation and interest much oftener than +Emma could have supposed. + +Some of the objects of his curiosity spoke very amiable feelings. He +begged to be shewn the house which his father had lived in so long, and +which had been the home of his father's father; and on recollecting that +an old woman who had nursed him was still living, walked in quest of +her cottage from one end of the street to the other; and though in +some points of pursuit or observation there was no positive merit, they +shewed, altogether, a good-will towards Highbury in general, which must +be very like a merit to those he was with. + +Emma watched and decided, that with such feelings as were now shewn, it +could not be fairly supposed that he had been ever voluntarily absenting +himself; that he had not been acting a part, or making a parade of +insincere professions; and that Mr. Knightley certainly had not done him +justice. + +Their first pause was at the Crown Inn, an inconsiderable house, though +the principal one of the sort, where a couple of pair of post-horses +were kept, more for the convenience of the neighbourhood than from any +run on the road; and his companions had not expected to be detained by +any interest excited there; but in passing it they gave the history of +the large room visibly added; it had been built many years ago for +a ball-room, and while the neighbourhood had been in a particularly +populous, dancing state, had been occasionally used as such;--but such +brilliant days had long passed away, and now the highest purpose for +which it was ever wanted was to accommodate a whist club established +among the gentlemen and half-gentlemen of the place. He was immediately +interested. Its character as a ball-room caught him; and instead of +passing on, he stopt for several minutes at the two superior sashed +windows which were open, to look in and contemplate its capabilities, +and lament that its original purpose should have ceased. He saw no fault +in the room, he would acknowledge none which they suggested. No, it +was long enough, broad enough, handsome enough. It would hold the +very number for comfort. They ought to have balls there at least every +fortnight through the winter. Why had not Miss Woodhouse revived +the former good old days of the room?--She who could do any thing in +Highbury! The want of proper families in the place, and the conviction +that none beyond the place and its immediate environs could be tempted +to attend, were mentioned; but he was not satisfied. He could not be +persuaded that so many good-looking houses as he saw around him, could +not furnish numbers enough for such a meeting; and even when particulars +were given and families described, he was still unwilling to admit that +the inconvenience of such a mixture would be any thing, or that there +would be the smallest difficulty in every body's returning into their +proper place the next morning. He argued like a young man very much bent +on dancing; and Emma was rather surprized to see the constitution of +the Weston prevail so decidedly against the habits of the Churchills. +He seemed to have all the life and spirit, cheerful feelings, and social +inclinations of his father, and nothing of the pride or reserve of +Enscombe. Of pride, indeed, there was, perhaps, scarcely enough; his +indifference to a confusion of rank, bordered too much on inelegance of +mind. He could be no judge, however, of the evil he was holding cheap. +It was but an effusion of lively spirits. + +At last he was persuaded to move on from the front of the Crown; +and being now almost facing the house where the Bateses lodged, Emma +recollected his intended visit the day before, and asked him if he had +paid it. + +“Yes, oh! yes”--he replied; “I was just going to mention it. A very +successful visit:--I saw all the three ladies; and felt very much +obliged to you for your preparatory hint. If the talking aunt had taken +me quite by surprize, it must have been the death of me. As it was, I +was only betrayed into paying a most unreasonable visit. Ten minutes +would have been all that was necessary, perhaps all that was proper; and +I had told my father I should certainly be at home before him--but there +was no getting away, no pause; and, to my utter astonishment, I found, +when he (finding me nowhere else) joined me there at last, that I had +been actually sitting with them very nearly three-quarters of an hour. +The good lady had not given me the possibility of escape before.” + +“And how did you think Miss Fairfax looking?” + +“Ill, very ill--that is, if a young lady can ever be allowed to look +ill. But the expression is hardly admissible, Mrs. Weston, is it? Ladies +can never look ill. And, seriously, Miss Fairfax is naturally so +pale, as almost always to give the appearance of ill health.--A most +deplorable want of complexion.” + +Emma would not agree to this, and began a warm defence of Miss Fairfax's +complexion. “It was certainly never brilliant, but she would not +allow it to have a sickly hue in general; and there was a softness and +delicacy in her skin which gave peculiar elegance to the character of +her face.” He listened with all due deference; acknowledged that he had +heard many people say the same--but yet he must confess, that to him +nothing could make amends for the want of the fine glow of health. Where +features were indifferent, a fine complexion gave beauty to them all; +and where they were good, the effect was--fortunately he need not +attempt to describe what the effect was. + +“Well,” said Emma, “there is no disputing about taste.--At least you +admire her except her complexion.” + +He shook his head and laughed.--“I cannot separate Miss Fairfax and her +complexion.” + +“Did you see her often at Weymouth? Were you often in the same society?” + +At this moment they were approaching Ford's, and he hastily exclaimed, +“Ha! this must be the very shop that every body attends every day of +their lives, as my father informs me. He comes to Highbury himself, he +says, six days out of the seven, and has always business at Ford's. +If it be not inconvenient to you, pray let us go in, that I may prove +myself to belong to the place, to be a true citizen of Highbury. I must +buy something at Ford's. It will be taking out my freedom.--I dare say +they sell gloves.” + +“Oh! yes, gloves and every thing. I do admire your patriotism. You will +be adored in Highbury. You were very popular before you came, because +you were Mr. Weston's son--but lay out half a guinea at Ford's, and your +popularity will stand upon your own virtues.” + +They went in; and while the sleek, well-tied parcels of “Men's Beavers” + and “York Tan” were bringing down and displaying on the counter, he +said--“But I beg your pardon, Miss Woodhouse, you were speaking to me, +you were saying something at the very moment of this burst of my _amor_ +_patriae_. Do not let me lose it. I assure you the utmost stretch of +public fame would not make me amends for the loss of any happiness in +private life.” + +“I merely asked, whether you had known much of Miss Fairfax and her +party at Weymouth.” + +“And now that I understand your question, I must pronounce it to be a +very unfair one. It is always the lady's right to decide on the degree +of acquaintance. Miss Fairfax must already have given her account.--I +shall not commit myself by claiming more than she may chuse to allow.” + +“Upon my word! you answer as discreetly as she could do herself. But +her account of every thing leaves so much to be guessed, she is so very +reserved, so very unwilling to give the least information about any +body, that I really think you may say what you like of your acquaintance +with her.” + +“May I, indeed?--Then I will speak the truth, and nothing suits me so +well. I met her frequently at Weymouth. I had known the Campbells a +little in town; and at Weymouth we were very much in the same set. +Colonel Campbell is a very agreeable man, and Mrs. Campbell a friendly, +warm-hearted woman. I like them all.” + +“You know Miss Fairfax's situation in life, I conclude; what she is +destined to be?” + +“Yes--(rather hesitatingly)--I believe I do.” + +“You get upon delicate subjects, Emma,” said Mrs. Weston smiling; +“remember that I am here.--Mr. Frank Churchill hardly knows what to say +when you speak of Miss Fairfax's situation in life. I will move a little +farther off.” + +“I certainly do forget to think of _her_,” said Emma, “as having ever +been any thing but my friend and my dearest friend.” + +He looked as if he fully understood and honoured such a sentiment. + +When the gloves were bought, and they had quitted the shop again, “Did +you ever hear the young lady we were speaking of, play?” said Frank +Churchill. + +“Ever hear her!” repeated Emma. “You forget how much she belongs to +Highbury. I have heard her every year of our lives since we both began. +She plays charmingly.” + +“You think so, do you?--I wanted the opinion of some one who +could really judge. She appeared to me to play well, that is, with +considerable taste, but I know nothing of the matter myself.--I am +excessively fond of music, but without the smallest skill or right +of judging of any body's performance.--I have been used to hear her's +admired; and I remember one proof of her being thought to play well:--a +man, a very musical man, and in love with another woman--engaged to +her--on the point of marriage--would yet never ask that other woman +to sit down to the instrument, if the lady in question could sit down +instead--never seemed to like to hear one if he could hear the other. +That, I thought, in a man of known musical talent, was some proof.” + +“Proof indeed!” said Emma, highly amused.--“Mr. Dixon is very musical, +is he? We shall know more about them all, in half an hour, from you, +than Miss Fairfax would have vouchsafed in half a year.” + +“Yes, Mr. Dixon and Miss Campbell were the persons; and I thought it a +very strong proof.” + +“Certainly--very strong it was; to own the truth, a great deal stronger +than, if _I_ had been Miss Campbell, would have been at all agreeable +to me. I could not excuse a man's having more music than love--more ear +than eye--a more acute sensibility to fine sounds than to my feelings. +How did Miss Campbell appear to like it?” + +“It was her very particular friend, you know.” + +“Poor comfort!” said Emma, laughing. “One would rather have a stranger +preferred than one's very particular friend--with a stranger it might +not recur again--but the misery of having a very particular friend +always at hand, to do every thing better than one does oneself!--Poor +Mrs. Dixon! Well, I am glad she is gone to settle in Ireland.” + +“You are right. It was not very flattering to Miss Campbell; but she +really did not seem to feel it.” + +“So much the better--or so much the worse:--I do not know which. But +be it sweetness or be it stupidity in her--quickness of friendship, or +dulness of feeling--there was one person, I think, who must have felt +it: Miss Fairfax herself. She must have felt the improper and dangerous +distinction.” + +“As to that--I do not--” + +“Oh! do not imagine that I expect an account of Miss Fairfax's +sensations from you, or from any body else. They are known to no human +being, I guess, but herself. But if she continued to play whenever she +was asked by Mr. Dixon, one may guess what one chuses.” + +“There appeared such a perfectly good understanding among them all--” + he began rather quickly, but checking himself, added, “however, it is +impossible for me to say on what terms they really were--how it might +all be behind the scenes. I can only say that there was smoothness +outwardly. But you, who have known Miss Fairfax from a child, must be +a better judge of her character, and of how she is likely to conduct +herself in critical situations, than I can be.” + +“I have known her from a child, undoubtedly; we have been children +and women together; and it is natural to suppose that we should be +intimate,--that we should have taken to each other whenever she visited +her friends. But we never did. I hardly know how it has happened; a +little, perhaps, from that wickedness on my side which was prone to take +disgust towards a girl so idolized and so cried up as she always was, +by her aunt and grandmother, and all their set. And then, her reserve--I +never could attach myself to any one so completely reserved.” + +“It is a most repulsive quality, indeed,” said he. “Oftentimes very +convenient, no doubt, but never pleasing. There is safety in reserve, +but no attraction. One cannot love a reserved person.” + +“Not till the reserve ceases towards oneself; and then the attraction +may be the greater. But I must be more in want of a friend, or an +agreeable companion, than I have yet been, to take the trouble of +conquering any body's reserve to procure one. Intimacy between Miss +Fairfax and me is quite out of the question. I have no reason to think +ill of her--not the least--except that such extreme and perpetual +cautiousness of word and manner, such a dread of giving a distinct idea +about any body, is apt to suggest suspicions of there being something to +conceal.” + +He perfectly agreed with her: and after walking together so long, and +thinking so much alike, Emma felt herself so well acquainted with him, +that she could hardly believe it to be only their second meeting. He was +not exactly what she had expected; less of the man of the world in some +of his notions, less of the spoiled child of fortune, therefore better +than she had expected. His ideas seemed more moderate--his feelings +warmer. She was particularly struck by his manner of considering Mr. +Elton's house, which, as well as the church, he would go and look at, +and would not join them in finding much fault with. No, he could not +believe it a bad house; not such a house as a man was to be pitied for +having. If it were to be shared with the woman he loved, he could not +think any man to be pitied for having that house. There must be ample +room in it for every real comfort. The man must be a blockhead who +wanted more. + +Mrs. Weston laughed, and said he did not know what he was talking about. +Used only to a large house himself, and without ever thinking how many +advantages and accommodations were attached to its size, he could be no +judge of the privations inevitably belonging to a small one. But Emma, +in her own mind, determined that he _did_ know what he was talking +about, and that he shewed a very amiable inclination to settle early in +life, and to marry, from worthy motives. He might not be aware of the +inroads on domestic peace to be occasioned by no housekeeper's room, or +a bad butler's pantry, but no doubt he did perfectly feel that Enscombe +could not make him happy, and that whenever he were attached, he would +willingly give up much of wealth to be allowed an early establishment. + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Emma's very good opinion of Frank Churchill was a little shaken the +following day, by hearing that he was gone off to London, merely to have +his hair cut. A sudden freak seemed to have seized him at breakfast, and +he had sent for a chaise and set off, intending to return to dinner, +but with no more important view that appeared than having his hair cut. +There was certainly no harm in his travelling sixteen miles twice over +on such an errand; but there was an air of foppery and nonsense in it +which she could not approve. It did not accord with the rationality of +plan, the moderation in expense, or even the unselfish warmth of heart, +which she had believed herself to discern in him yesterday. Vanity, +extravagance, love of change, restlessness of temper, which must be +doing something, good or bad; heedlessness as to the pleasure of his +father and Mrs. Weston, indifferent as to how his conduct might appear +in general; he became liable to all these charges. His father only +called him a coxcomb, and thought it a very good story; but that Mrs. +Weston did not like it, was clear enough, by her passing it over as +quickly as possible, and making no other comment than that “all young +people would have their little whims.” + +With the exception of this little blot, Emma found that his visit +hitherto had given her friend only good ideas of him. Mrs. Weston +was very ready to say how attentive and pleasant a companion he made +himself--how much she saw to like in his disposition altogether. He +appeared to have a very open temper--certainly a very cheerful and +lively one; she could observe nothing wrong in his notions, a great deal +decidedly right; he spoke of his uncle with warm regard, was fond of +talking of him--said he would be the best man in the world if he were +left to himself; and though there was no being attached to the aunt, he +acknowledged her kindness with gratitude, and seemed to mean always to +speak of her with respect. This was all very promising; and, but for +such an unfortunate fancy for having his hair cut, there was nothing to +denote him unworthy of the distinguished honour which her imagination +had given him; the honour, if not of being really in love with her, +of being at least very near it, and saved only by her own +indifference--(for still her resolution held of never marrying)--the +honour, in short, of being marked out for her by all their joint +acquaintance. + +Mr. Weston, on his side, added a virtue to the account which must +have some weight. He gave her to understand that Frank admired her +extremely--thought her very beautiful and very charming; and with so +much to be said for him altogether, she found she must not judge him +harshly. As Mrs. Weston observed, “all young people would have their +little whims.” + +There was one person among his new acquaintance in Surry, not so +leniently disposed. In general he was judged, throughout the parishes of +Donwell and Highbury, with great candour; liberal allowances were made +for the little excesses of such a handsome young man--one who smiled so +often and bowed so well; but there was one spirit among them not to be +softened, from its power of censure, by bows or smiles--Mr. Knightley. +The circumstance was told him at Hartfield; for the moment, he was +silent; but Emma heard him almost immediately afterwards say to himself, +over a newspaper he held in his hand, “Hum! just the trifling, silly +fellow I took him for.” She had half a mind to resent; but an instant's +observation convinced her that it was really said only to relieve his +own feelings, and not meant to provoke; and therefore she let it pass. + +Although in one instance the bearers of not good tidings, Mr. and +Mrs. Weston's visit this morning was in another respect particularly +opportune. Something occurred while they were at Hartfield, to make Emma +want their advice; and, which was still more lucky, she wanted exactly +the advice they gave. + +This was the occurrence:--The Coles had been settled some years in +Highbury, and were very good sort of people--friendly, liberal, and +unpretending; but, on the other hand, they were of low origin, in trade, +and only moderately genteel. On their first coming into the country, +they had lived in proportion to their income, quietly, keeping little +company, and that little unexpensively; but the last year or two had +brought them a considerable increase of means--the house in town had +yielded greater profits, and fortune in general had smiled on them. With +their wealth, their views increased; their want of a larger house, their +inclination for more company. They added to their house, to their number +of servants, to their expenses of every sort; and by this time were, +in fortune and style of living, second only to the family at Hartfield. +Their love of society, and their new dining-room, prepared every body +for their keeping dinner-company; and a few parties, chiefly among the +single men, had already taken place. The regular and best families Emma +could hardly suppose they would presume to invite--neither Donwell, nor +Hartfield, nor Randalls. Nothing should tempt _her_ to go, if they did; +and she regretted that her father's known habits would be giving +her refusal less meaning than she could wish. The Coles were very +respectable in their way, but they ought to be taught that it was not +for them to arrange the terms on which the superior families would visit +them. This lesson, she very much feared, they would receive only from +herself; she had little hope of Mr. Knightley, none of Mr. Weston. + +But she had made up her mind how to meet this presumption so many weeks +before it appeared, that when the insult came at last, it found her +very differently affected. Donwell and Randalls had received their +invitation, and none had come for her father and herself; and Mrs. +Weston's accounting for it with “I suppose they will not take the +liberty with you; they know you do not dine out,” was not quite +sufficient. She felt that she should like to have had the power of +refusal; and afterwards, as the idea of the party to be assembled there, +consisting precisely of those whose society was dearest to her, occurred +again and again, she did not know that she might not have been tempted +to accept. Harriet was to be there in the evening, and the Bateses. They +had been speaking of it as they walked about Highbury the day before, +and Frank Churchill had most earnestly lamented her absence. Might +not the evening end in a dance? had been a question of his. The bare +possibility of it acted as a farther irritation on her spirits; and +her being left in solitary grandeur, even supposing the omission to be +intended as a compliment, was but poor comfort. + +It was the arrival of this very invitation while the Westons were at +Hartfield, which made their presence so acceptable; for though her first +remark, on reading it, was that “of course it must be declined,” she so +very soon proceeded to ask them what they advised her to do, that their +advice for her going was most prompt and successful. + +She owned that, considering every thing, she was not absolutely +without inclination for the party. The Coles expressed themselves so +properly--there was so much real attention in the manner of it--so much +consideration for her father. “They would have solicited the honour +earlier, but had been waiting the arrival of a folding-screen from +London, which they hoped might keep Mr. Woodhouse from any draught of +air, and therefore induce him the more readily to give them the honour +of his company.” Upon the whole, she was very persuadable; and it being +briefly settled among themselves how it might be done without neglecting +his comfort--how certainly Mrs. Goddard, if not Mrs. Bates, might be +depended on for bearing him company--Mr. Woodhouse was to be talked +into an acquiescence of his daughter's going out to dinner on a day now +near at hand, and spending the whole evening away from him. As for _his_ +going, Emma did not wish him to think it possible, the hours would be +too late, and the party too numerous. He was soon pretty well resigned. + +“I am not fond of dinner-visiting,” said he--“I never was. No more is +Emma. Late hours do not agree with us. I am sorry Mr. and Mrs. Cole +should have done it. I think it would be much better if they would come +in one afternoon next summer, and take their tea with us--take us +in their afternoon walk; which they might do, as our hours are so +reasonable, and yet get home without being out in the damp of the +evening. The dews of a summer evening are what I would not expose any +body to. However, as they are so very desirous to have dear Emma dine +with them, and as you will both be there, and Mr. Knightley too, to take +care of her, I cannot wish to prevent it, provided the weather be what +it ought, neither damp, nor cold, nor windy.” Then turning to Mrs. +Weston, with a look of gentle reproach--“Ah! Miss Taylor, if you had not +married, you would have staid at home with me.” + +“Well, sir,” cried Mr. Weston, “as I took Miss Taylor away, it is +incumbent on me to supply her place, if I can; and I will step to Mrs. +Goddard in a moment, if you wish it.” + +But the idea of any thing to be done in a _moment_, was increasing, +not lessening, Mr. Woodhouse's agitation. The ladies knew better how +to allay it. Mr. Weston must be quiet, and every thing deliberately +arranged. + +With this treatment, Mr. Woodhouse was soon composed enough for talking +as usual. “He should be happy to see Mrs. Goddard. He had a great regard +for Mrs. Goddard; and Emma should write a line, and invite her. James +could take the note. But first of all, there must be an answer written +to Mrs. Cole.” + +“You will make my excuses, my dear, as civilly as possible. You will say +that I am quite an invalid, and go no where, and therefore must decline +their obliging invitation; beginning with my _compliments_, of course. +But you will do every thing right. I need not tell you what is to be +done. We must remember to let James know that the carriage will be +wanted on Tuesday. I shall have no fears for you with him. We have never +been there above once since the new approach was made; but still I have +no doubt that James will take you very safely. And when you get there, +you must tell him at what time you would have him come for you again; +and you had better name an early hour. You will not like staying late. +You will get very tired when tea is over.” + +“But you would not wish me to come away before I am tired, papa?” + +“Oh! no, my love; but you will soon be tired. There will be a great many +people talking at once. You will not like the noise.” + +“But, my dear sir,” cried Mr. Weston, “if Emma comes away early, it will +be breaking up the party.” + +“And no great harm if it does,” said Mr. Woodhouse. “The sooner every +party breaks up, the better.” + +“But you do not consider how it may appear to the Coles. Emma's going +away directly after tea might be giving offence. They are good-natured +people, and think little of their own claims; but still they must +feel that any body's hurrying away is no great compliment; and Miss +Woodhouse's doing it would be more thought of than any other person's in +the room. You would not wish to disappoint and mortify the Coles, I am +sure, sir; friendly, good sort of people as ever lived, and who have +been your neighbours these _ten_ years.” + +“No, upon no account in the world, Mr. Weston; I am much obliged to +you for reminding me. I should be extremely sorry to be giving them any +pain. I know what worthy people they are. Perry tells me that Mr. Cole +never touches malt liquor. You would not think it to look at him, but +he is bilious--Mr. Cole is very bilious. No, I would not be the means +of giving them any pain. My dear Emma, we must consider this. I am sure, +rather than run the risk of hurting Mr. and Mrs. Cole, you would stay a +little longer than you might wish. You will not regard being tired. You +will be perfectly safe, you know, among your friends.” + +“Oh yes, papa. I have no fears at all for myself; and I should have no +scruples of staying as late as Mrs. Weston, but on your account. I am +only afraid of your sitting up for me. I am not afraid of your not being +exceedingly comfortable with Mrs. Goddard. She loves piquet, you +know; but when she is gone home, I am afraid you will be sitting up by +yourself, instead of going to bed at your usual time--and the idea of +that would entirely destroy my comfort. You must promise me not to sit +up.” + +He did, on the condition of some promises on her side: such as that, +if she came home cold, she would be sure to warm herself thoroughly; if +hungry, that she would take something to eat; that her own maid should +sit up for her; and that Serle and the butler should see that every +thing were safe in the house, as usual. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Frank Churchill came back again; and if he kept his father's dinner +waiting, it was not known at Hartfield; for Mrs. Weston was too anxious +for his being a favourite with Mr. Woodhouse, to betray any imperfection +which could be concealed. + +He came back, had had his hair cut, and laughed at himself with a very +good grace, but without seeming really at all ashamed of what he had +done. He had no reason to wish his hair longer, to conceal any confusion +of face; no reason to wish the money unspent, to improve his spirits. +He was quite as undaunted and as lively as ever; and, after seeing him, +Emma thus moralised to herself:-- + +“I do not know whether it ought to be so, but certainly silly things +do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent +way. Wickedness is always wickedness, but folly is not always folly.--It +depends upon the character of those who handle it. Mr. Knightley, he is +_not_ a trifling, silly young man. If he were, he would have done this +differently. He would either have gloried in the achievement, or +been ashamed of it. There would have been either the ostentation of +a coxcomb, or the evasions of a mind too weak to defend its own +vanities.--No, I am perfectly sure that he is not trifling or silly.” + +With Tuesday came the agreeable prospect of seeing him again, and for +a longer time than hitherto; of judging of his general manners, and by +inference, of the meaning of his manners towards herself; of guessing +how soon it might be necessary for her to throw coldness into her air; +and of fancying what the observations of all those might be, who were +now seeing them together for the first time. + +She meant to be very happy, in spite of the scene being laid at Mr. +Cole's; and without being able to forget that among the failings of Mr. +Elton, even in the days of his favour, none had disturbed her more than +his propensity to dine with Mr. Cole. + +Her father's comfort was amply secured, Mrs. Bates as well as Mrs. +Goddard being able to come; and her last pleasing duty, before she left +the house, was to pay her respects to them as they sat together after +dinner; and while her father was fondly noticing the beauty of her +dress, to make the two ladies all the amends in her power, by helping +them to large slices of cake and full glasses of wine, for whatever +unwilling self-denial his care of their constitution might have obliged +them to practise during the meal.--She had provided a plentiful dinner +for them; she wished she could know that they had been allowed to eat +it. + +She followed another carriage to Mr. Cole's door; and was pleased to see +that it was Mr. Knightley's; for Mr. Knightley keeping no horses, +having little spare money and a great deal of health, activity, and +independence, was too apt, in Emma's opinion, to get about as he could, +and not use his carriage so often as became the owner of Donwell Abbey. +She had an opportunity now of speaking her approbation while warm from +her heart, for he stopped to hand her out. + +“This is coming as you should do,” said she; “like a gentleman.--I am +quite glad to see you.” + +He thanked her, observing, “How lucky that we should arrive at the same +moment! for, if we had met first in the drawing-room, I doubt whether +you would have discerned me to be more of a gentleman than usual.--You +might not have distinguished how I came, by my look or manner.” + +“Yes I should, I am sure I should. There is always a look of +consciousness or bustle when people come in a way which they know to be +beneath them. You think you carry it off very well, I dare say, but +with you it is a sort of bravado, an air of affected unconcern; I always +observe it whenever I meet you under those circumstances. _Now_ you have +nothing to try for. You are not afraid of being supposed ashamed. You +are not striving to look taller than any body else. _Now_ I shall really +be very happy to walk into the same room with you.” + +“Nonsensical girl!” was his reply, but not at all in anger. + +Emma had as much reason to be satisfied with the rest of the party as +with Mr. Knightley. She was received with a cordial respect which could +not but please, and given all the consequence she could wish for. +When the Westons arrived, the kindest looks of love, the strongest of +admiration were for her, from both husband and wife; the son approached +her with a cheerful eagerness which marked her as his peculiar object, +and at dinner she found him seated by her--and, as she firmly believed, +not without some dexterity on his side. + +The party was rather large, as it included one other family, a proper +unobjectionable country family, whom the Coles had the advantage of +naming among their acquaintance, and the male part of Mr. Cox's family, +the lawyer of Highbury. The less worthy females were to come in the +evening, with Miss Bates, Miss Fairfax, and Miss Smith; but already, +at dinner, they were too numerous for any subject of conversation to be +general; and, while politics and Mr. Elton were talked over, Emma could +fairly surrender all her attention to the pleasantness of her neighbour. +The first remote sound to which she felt herself obliged to attend, was +the name of Jane Fairfax. Mrs. Cole seemed to be relating something of +her that was expected to be very interesting. She listened, and found +it well worth listening to. That very dear part of Emma, her fancy, +received an amusing supply. Mrs. Cole was telling that she had been +calling on Miss Bates, and as soon as she entered the room had +been struck by the sight of a pianoforte--a very elegant looking +instrument--not a grand, but a large-sized square pianoforte; and the +substance of the story, the end of all the dialogue which ensued of +surprize, and inquiry, and congratulations on her side, and explanations +on Miss Bates's, was, that this pianoforte had arrived from +Broadwood's the day before, to the great astonishment of both aunt and +niece--entirely unexpected; that at first, by Miss Bates's account, +Jane herself was quite at a loss, quite bewildered to think who could +possibly have ordered it--but now, they were both perfectly satisfied +that it could be from only one quarter;--of course it must be from +Colonel Campbell. + +“One can suppose nothing else,” added Mrs. Cole, “and I was only +surprized that there could ever have been a doubt. But Jane, it seems, +had a letter from them very lately, and not a word was said about it. +She knows their ways best; but I should not consider their silence as +any reason for their not meaning to make the present. They might chuse +to surprize her.” + +Mrs. Cole had many to agree with her; every body who spoke on the +subject was equally convinced that it must come from Colonel Campbell, +and equally rejoiced that such a present had been made; and there were +enough ready to speak to allow Emma to think her own way, and still +listen to Mrs. Cole. + +“I declare, I do not know when I have heard any thing that has given me +more satisfaction!--It always has quite hurt me that Jane Fairfax, who +plays so delightfully, should not have an instrument. It seemed quite +a shame, especially considering how many houses there are where fine +instruments are absolutely thrown away. This is like giving ourselves +a slap, to be sure! and it was but yesterday I was telling Mr. Cole, +I really was ashamed to look at our new grand pianoforte in the +drawing-room, while I do not know one note from another, and our little +girls, who are but just beginning, perhaps may never make any thing of +it; and there is poor Jane Fairfax, who is mistress of music, has not +any thing of the nature of an instrument, not even the pitifullest old +spinet in the world, to amuse herself with.--I was saying this to +Mr. Cole but yesterday, and he quite agreed with me; only he is so +particularly fond of music that he could not help indulging himself +in the purchase, hoping that some of our good neighbours might be so +obliging occasionally to put it to a better use than we can; and that +really is the reason why the instrument was bought--or else I am sure +we ought to be ashamed of it.--We are in great hopes that Miss Woodhouse +may be prevailed with to try it this evening.” + +Miss Woodhouse made the proper acquiescence; and finding that nothing +more was to be entrapped from any communication of Mrs. Cole's, turned +to Frank Churchill. + +“Why do you smile?” said she. + +“Nay, why do you?” + +“Me!--I suppose I smile for pleasure at Colonel Campbell's being so rich +and so liberal.--It is a handsome present.” + +“Very.” + +“I rather wonder that it was never made before.” + +“Perhaps Miss Fairfax has never been staying here so long before.” + +“Or that he did not give her the use of their own instrument--which must +now be shut up in London, untouched by any body.” + +“That is a grand pianoforte, and he might think it too large for Mrs. +Bates's house.” + +“You may _say_ what you chuse--but your countenance testifies that your +_thoughts_ on this subject are very much like mine.” + +“I do not know. I rather believe you are giving me more credit for +acuteness than I deserve. I smile because you smile, and shall probably +suspect whatever I find you suspect; but at present I do not see what +there is to question. If Colonel Campbell is not the person, who can +be?” + +“What do you say to Mrs. Dixon?” + +“Mrs. Dixon! very true indeed. I had not thought of Mrs. Dixon. She must +know as well as her father, how acceptable an instrument would be; and +perhaps the mode of it, the mystery, the surprize, is more like a young +woman's scheme than an elderly man's. It is Mrs. Dixon, I dare say. I +told you that your suspicions would guide mine.” + +“If so, you must extend your suspicions and comprehend _Mr_. Dixon in +them.” + +“Mr. Dixon.--Very well. Yes, I immediately perceive that it must be the +joint present of Mr. and Mrs. Dixon. We were speaking the other day, you +know, of his being so warm an admirer of her performance.” + +“Yes, and what you told me on that head, confirmed an idea which I had +entertained before.--I do not mean to reflect upon the good intentions +of either Mr. Dixon or Miss Fairfax, but I cannot help suspecting either +that, after making his proposals to her friend, he had the misfortune +to fall in love with _her_, or that he became conscious of a little +attachment on her side. One might guess twenty things without guessing +exactly the right; but I am sure there must be a particular cause for +her chusing to come to Highbury instead of going with the Campbells +to Ireland. Here, she must be leading a life of privation and penance; +there it would have been all enjoyment. As to the pretence of trying her +native air, I look upon that as a mere excuse.--In the summer it might +have passed; but what can any body's native air do for them in the +months of January, February, and March? Good fires and carriages would +be much more to the purpose in most cases of delicate health, and I dare +say in her's. I do not require you to adopt all my suspicions, though +you make so noble a profession of doing it, but I honestly tell you what +they are.” + +“And, upon my word, they have an air of great probability. Mr. Dixon's +preference of her music to her friend's, I can answer for being very +decided.” + +“And then, he saved her life. Did you ever hear of that?--A water +party; and by some accident she was falling overboard. He caught her.” + +“He did. I was there--one of the party.” + +“Were you really?--Well!--But you observed nothing of course, for it +seems to be a new idea to you.--If I had been there, I think I should +have made some discoveries.” + +“I dare say you would; but I, simple I, saw nothing but the fact, that +Miss Fairfax was nearly dashed from the vessel and that Mr. Dixon caught +her.--It was the work of a moment. And though the consequent shock and +alarm was very great and much more durable--indeed I believe it was +half an hour before any of us were comfortable again--yet that was too +general a sensation for any thing of peculiar anxiety to be +observable. I do not mean to say, however, that you might not have made +discoveries.” + +The conversation was here interrupted. They were called on to share +in the awkwardness of a rather long interval between the courses, and +obliged to be as formal and as orderly as the others; but when the table +was again safely covered, when every corner dish was placed exactly +right, and occupation and ease were generally restored, Emma said, + +“The arrival of this pianoforte is decisive with me. I wanted to know +a little more, and this tells me quite enough. Depend upon it, we shall +soon hear that it is a present from Mr. and Mrs. Dixon.” + +“And if the Dixons should absolutely deny all knowledge of it we must +conclude it to come from the Campbells.” + +“No, I am sure it is not from the Campbells. Miss Fairfax knows it is +not from the Campbells, or they would have been guessed at first. She +would not have been puzzled, had she dared fix on them. I may not have +convinced you perhaps, but I am perfectly convinced myself that Mr. +Dixon is a principal in the business.” + +“Indeed you injure me if you suppose me unconvinced. Your reasonings +carry my judgment along with them entirely. At first, while I supposed +you satisfied that Colonel Campbell was the giver, I saw it only as +paternal kindness, and thought it the most natural thing in the world. +But when you mentioned Mrs. Dixon, I felt how much more probable that it +should be the tribute of warm female friendship. And now I can see it in +no other light than as an offering of love.” + +There was no occasion to press the matter farther. The conviction seemed +real; he looked as if he felt it. She said no more, other subjects +took their turn; and the rest of the dinner passed away; the dessert +succeeded, the children came in, and were talked to and admired amid the +usual rate of conversation; a few clever things said, a few downright +silly, but by much the larger proportion neither the one nor the +other--nothing worse than everyday remarks, dull repetitions, old news, +and heavy jokes. + +The ladies had not been long in the drawing-room, before the other +ladies, in their different divisions, arrived. Emma watched the entree +of her own particular little friend; and if she could not exult in her +dignity and grace, she could not only love the blooming sweetness and +the artless manner, but could most heartily rejoice in that light, +cheerful, unsentimental disposition which allowed her so many +alleviations of pleasure, in the midst of the pangs of disappointed +affection. There she sat--and who would have guessed how many tears she +had been lately shedding? To be in company, nicely dressed herself and +seeing others nicely dressed, to sit and smile and look pretty, and say +nothing, was enough for the happiness of the present hour. Jane Fairfax +did look and move superior; but Emma suspected she might have been +glad to change feelings with Harriet, very glad to have purchased the +mortification of having loved--yes, of having loved even Mr. Elton in +vain--by the surrender of all the dangerous pleasure of knowing herself +beloved by the husband of her friend. + +In so large a party it was not necessary that Emma should approach her. +She did not wish to speak of the pianoforte, she felt too much in the +secret herself, to think the appearance of curiosity or interest fair, +and therefore purposely kept at a distance; but by the others, the +subject was almost immediately introduced, and she saw the blush of +consciousness with which congratulations were received, the blush +of guilt which accompanied the name of “my excellent friend Colonel +Campbell.” + +Mrs. Weston, kind-hearted and musical, was particularly interested +by the circumstance, and Emma could not help being amused at her +perseverance in dwelling on the subject; and having so much to ask and +to say as to tone, touch, and pedal, totally unsuspicious of that wish +of saying as little about it as possible, which she plainly read in the +fair heroine's countenance. + +They were soon joined by some of the gentlemen; and the very first +of the early was Frank Churchill. In he walked, the first and the +handsomest; and after paying his compliments en passant to Miss Bates +and her niece, made his way directly to the opposite side of the circle, +where sat Miss Woodhouse; and till he could find a seat by her, would +not sit at all. Emma divined what every body present must be thinking. +She was his object, and every body must perceive it. She introduced him +to her friend, Miss Smith, and, at convenient moments afterwards, heard +what each thought of the other. “He had never seen so lovely a face, and +was delighted with her naivete.” And she, “Only to be sure it was paying +him too great a compliment, but she did think there were some looks a +little like Mr. Elton.” Emma restrained her indignation, and only turned +from her in silence. + +Smiles of intelligence passed between her and the gentleman on first +glancing towards Miss Fairfax; but it was most prudent to avoid speech. +He told her that he had been impatient to leave the dining-room--hated +sitting long--was always the first to move when he could--that his +father, Mr. Knightley, Mr. Cox, and Mr. Cole, were left very busy over +parish business--that as long as he had staid, however, it had been +pleasant enough, as he had found them in general a set of gentlemanlike, +sensible men; and spoke so handsomely of Highbury altogether--thought it +so abundant in agreeable families--that Emma began to feel she had been +used to despise the place rather too much. She questioned him as to the +society in Yorkshire--the extent of the neighbourhood about Enscombe, +and the sort; and could make out from his answers that, as far as +Enscombe was concerned, there was very little going on, that their +visitings were among a range of great families, none very near; and +that even when days were fixed, and invitations accepted, it was an even +chance that Mrs. Churchill were not in health and spirits for going; +that they made a point of visiting no fresh person; and that, though +he had his separate engagements, it was not without difficulty, without +considerable address _at_ _times_, that he could get away, or introduce +an acquaintance for a night. + +She saw that Enscombe could not satisfy, and that Highbury, taken at +its best, might reasonably please a young man who had more retirement at +home than he liked. His importance at Enscombe was very evident. He did +not boast, but it naturally betrayed itself, that he had persuaded his +aunt where his uncle could do nothing, and on her laughing and noticing +it, he owned that he believed (excepting one or two points) he could +_with_ _time_ persuade her to any thing. One of those points on which +his influence failed, he then mentioned. He had wanted very much to +go abroad--had been very eager indeed to be allowed to travel--but she +would not hear of it. This had happened the year before. _Now_, he said, +he was beginning to have no longer the same wish. + +The unpersuadable point, which he did not mention, Emma guessed to be +good behaviour to his father. + +“I have made a most wretched discovery,” said he, after a short pause.-- +“I have been here a week to-morrow--half my time. I never knew days fly +so fast. A week to-morrow!--And I have hardly begun to enjoy myself. +But just got acquainted with Mrs. Weston, and others!--I hate the +recollection.” + +“Perhaps you may now begin to regret that you spent one whole day, out +of so few, in having your hair cut.” + +“No,” said he, smiling, “that is no subject of regret at all. I have +no pleasure in seeing my friends, unless I can believe myself fit to be +seen.” + +The rest of the gentlemen being now in the room, Emma found herself +obliged to turn from him for a few minutes, and listen to Mr. Cole. When +Mr. Cole had moved away, and her attention could be restored as before, +she saw Frank Churchill looking intently across the room at Miss +Fairfax, who was sitting exactly opposite. + +“What is the matter?” said she. + +He started. “Thank you for rousing me,” he replied. “I believe I have +been very rude; but really Miss Fairfax has done her hair in so odd a +way--so very odd a way--that I cannot keep my eyes from her. I never saw +any thing so outree!--Those curls!--This must be a fancy of her own. I +see nobody else looking like her!--I must go and ask her whether it +is an Irish fashion. Shall I?--Yes, I will--I declare I will--and you +shall see how she takes it;--whether she colours.” + +He was gone immediately; and Emma soon saw him standing before Miss +Fairfax, and talking to her; but as to its effect on the young lady, +as he had improvidently placed himself exactly between them, exactly in +front of Miss Fairfax, she could absolutely distinguish nothing. + +Before he could return to his chair, it was taken by Mrs. Weston. + +“This is the luxury of a large party,” said she:--“one can get near +every body, and say every thing. My dear Emma, I am longing to talk +to you. I have been making discoveries and forming plans, just like +yourself, and I must tell them while the idea is fresh. Do you know how +Miss Bates and her niece came here?” + +“How?--They were invited, were not they?” + +“Oh! yes--but how they were conveyed hither?--the manner of their +coming?” + +“They walked, I conclude. How else could they come?” + +“Very true.--Well, a little while ago it occurred to me how very sad +it would be to have Jane Fairfax walking home again, late at night, and +cold as the nights are now. And as I looked at her, though I never saw +her appear to more advantage, it struck me that she was heated, and +would therefore be particularly liable to take cold. Poor girl! I could +not bear the idea of it; so, as soon as Mr. Weston came into the room, +and I could get at him, I spoke to him about the carriage. You may guess +how readily he came into my wishes; and having his approbation, I made +my way directly to Miss Bates, to assure her that the carriage would be +at her service before it took us home; for I thought it would be making +her comfortable at once. Good soul! she was as grateful as possible, you +may be sure. 'Nobody was ever so fortunate as herself!'--but with many, +many thanks--'there was no occasion to trouble us, for Mr. Knightley's +carriage had brought, and was to take them home again.' I was quite +surprized;--very glad, I am sure; but really quite surprized. Such a +very kind attention--and so thoughtful an attention!--the sort of thing +that so few men would think of. And, in short, from knowing his +usual ways, I am very much inclined to think that it was for their +accommodation the carriage was used at all. I do suspect he would not +have had a pair of horses for himself, and that it was only as an excuse +for assisting them.” + +“Very likely,” said Emma--“nothing more likely. I know no man more +likely than Mr. Knightley to do the sort of thing--to do any thing +really good-natured, useful, considerate, or benevolent. He is not a +gallant man, but he is a very humane one; and this, considering Jane +Fairfax's ill-health, would appear a case of humanity to him;--and for +an act of unostentatious kindness, there is nobody whom I would fix on +more than on Mr. Knightley. I know he had horses to-day--for we arrived +together; and I laughed at him about it, but he said not a word that +could betray.” + +“Well,” said Mrs. Weston, smiling, “you give him credit for more simple, +disinterested benevolence in this instance than I do; for while Miss +Bates was speaking, a suspicion darted into my head, and I have never +been able to get it out again. The more I think of it, the more probable +it appears. In short, I have made a match between Mr. Knightley and Jane +Fairfax. See the consequence of keeping you company!--What do you say to +it?” + +“Mr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax!” exclaimed Emma. “Dear Mrs. Weston, how +could you think of such a thing?--Mr. Knightley!--Mr. Knightley must not +marry!--You would not have little Henry cut out from Donwell?--Oh! no, +no, Henry must have Donwell. I cannot at all consent to Mr. Knightley's +marrying; and I am sure it is not at all likely. I am amazed that you +should think of such a thing.” + +“My dear Emma, I have told you what led me to think of it. I do not want +the match--I do not want to injure dear little Henry--but the idea has +been given me by circumstances; and if Mr. Knightley really wished to +marry, you would not have him refrain on Henry's account, a boy of six +years old, who knows nothing of the matter?” + +“Yes, I would. I could not bear to have Henry supplanted.--Mr. +Knightley marry!--No, I have never had such an idea, and I cannot adopt +it now. And Jane Fairfax, too, of all women!” + +“Nay, she has always been a first favourite with him, as you very well +know.” + +“But the imprudence of such a match!” + +“I am not speaking of its prudence; merely its probability.” + +“I see no probability in it, unless you have any better foundation than +what you mention. His good-nature, his humanity, as I tell you, would +be quite enough to account for the horses. He has a great regard for the +Bateses, you know, independent of Jane Fairfax--and is always glad to +shew them attention. My dear Mrs. Weston, do not take to match-making. +You do it very ill. Jane Fairfax mistress of the Abbey!--Oh! no, +no;--every feeling revolts. For his own sake, I would not have him do so +mad a thing.” + +“Imprudent, if you please--but not mad. Excepting inequality of fortune, +and perhaps a little disparity of age, I can see nothing unsuitable.” + +“But Mr. Knightley does not want to marry. I am sure he has not the +least idea of it. Do not put it into his head. Why should he marry?--He +is as happy as possible by himself; with his farm, and his sheep, and +his library, and all the parish to manage; and he is extremely fond of +his brother's children. He has no occasion to marry, either to fill up +his time or his heart.” + +“My dear Emma, as long as he thinks so, it is so; but if he really loves +Jane Fairfax--” + +“Nonsense! He does not care about Jane Fairfax. In the way of love, I am +sure he does not. He would do any good to her, or her family; but--” + +“Well,” said Mrs. Weston, laughing, “perhaps the greatest good he could +do them, would be to give Jane such a respectable home.” + +“If it would be good to her, I am sure it would be evil to himself; a +very shameful and degrading connexion. How would he bear to have Miss +Bates belonging to him?--To have her haunting the Abbey, and thanking +him all day long for his great kindness in marrying Jane?--'So very +kind and obliging!--But he always had been such a very kind neighbour!' +And then fly off, through half a sentence, to her mother's old +petticoat. 'Not that it was such a very old petticoat either--for still +it would last a great while--and, indeed, she must thankfully say that +their petticoats were all very strong.'” + +“For shame, Emma! Do not mimic her. You divert me against my conscience. +And, upon my word, I do not think Mr. Knightley would be much disturbed +by Miss Bates. Little things do not irritate him. She might talk on; and +if he wanted to say any thing himself, he would only talk louder, and +drown her voice. But the question is not, whether it would be a bad +connexion for him, but whether he wishes it; and I think he does. I have +heard him speak, and so must you, so very highly of Jane Fairfax! The +interest he takes in her--his anxiety about her health--his concern that +she should have no happier prospect! I have heard him express himself +so warmly on those points!--Such an admirer of her performance on the +pianoforte, and of her voice! I have heard him say that he could listen +to her for ever. Oh! and I had almost forgotten one idea that occurred +to me--this pianoforte that has been sent here by somebody--though +we have all been so well satisfied to consider it a present from the +Campbells, may it not be from Mr. Knightley? I cannot help suspecting +him. I think he is just the person to do it, even without being in +love.” + +“Then it can be no argument to prove that he is in love. But I do not +think it is at all a likely thing for him to do. Mr. Knightley does +nothing mysteriously.” + +“I have heard him lamenting her having no instrument repeatedly; oftener +than I should suppose such a circumstance would, in the common course of +things, occur to him.” + +“Very well; and if he had intended to give her one, he would have told +her so.” + +“There might be scruples of delicacy, my dear Emma. I have a very strong +notion that it comes from him. I am sure he was particularly silent when +Mrs. Cole told us of it at dinner.” + +“You take up an idea, Mrs. Weston, and run away with it; as you have +many a time reproached me with doing. I see no sign of attachment--I +believe nothing of the pianoforte--and proof only shall convince me that +Mr. Knightley has any thought of marrying Jane Fairfax.” + +They combated the point some time longer in the same way; Emma rather +gaining ground over the mind of her friend; for Mrs. Weston was the most +used of the two to yield; till a little bustle in the room shewed them +that tea was over, and the instrument in preparation;--and at the same +moment Mr. Cole approaching to entreat Miss Woodhouse would do them the +honour of trying it. Frank Churchill, of whom, in the eagerness of her +conversation with Mrs. Weston, she had been seeing nothing, except that +he had found a seat by Miss Fairfax, followed Mr. Cole, to add his very +pressing entreaties; and as, in every respect, it suited Emma best to +lead, she gave a very proper compliance. + +She knew the limitations of her own powers too well to attempt more than +she could perform with credit; she wanted neither taste nor spirit in +the little things which are generally acceptable, and could accompany +her own voice well. One accompaniment to her song took her agreeably by +surprize--a second, slightly but correctly taken by Frank Churchill. Her +pardon was duly begged at the close of the song, and every thing usual +followed. He was accused of having a delightful voice, and a perfect +knowledge of music; which was properly denied; and that he knew nothing +of the matter, and had no voice at all, roundly asserted. They sang +together once more; and Emma would then resign her place to Miss +Fairfax, whose performance, both vocal and instrumental, she never could +attempt to conceal from herself, was infinitely superior to her own. + +With mixed feelings, she seated herself at a little distance from the +numbers round the instrument, to listen. Frank Churchill sang again. +They had sung together once or twice, it appeared, at Weymouth. But the +sight of Mr. Knightley among the most attentive, soon drew away half +Emma's mind; and she fell into a train of thinking on the subject of +Mrs. Weston's suspicions, to which the sweet sounds of the united voices +gave only momentary interruptions. Her objections to Mr. Knightley's +marrying did not in the least subside. She could see nothing but evil +in it. It would be a great disappointment to Mr. John Knightley; +consequently to Isabella. A real injury to the children--a most +mortifying change, and material loss to them all;--a very great +deduction from her father's daily comfort--and, as to herself, she could +not at all endure the idea of Jane Fairfax at Donwell Abbey. A Mrs. +Knightley for them all to give way to!--No--Mr. Knightley must never +marry. Little Henry must remain the heir of Donwell. + +Presently Mr. Knightley looked back, and came and sat down by her. They +talked at first only of the performance. His admiration was certainly +very warm; yet she thought, but for Mrs. Weston, it would not have +struck her. As a sort of touchstone, however, she began to speak of his +kindness in conveying the aunt and niece; and though his answer was in +the spirit of cutting the matter short, she believed it to indicate only +his disinclination to dwell on any kindness of his own. + +“I often feel concern,” said she, “that I dare not make our carriage +more useful on such occasions. It is not that I am without the wish; but +you know how impossible my father would deem it that James should put-to +for such a purpose.” + +“Quite out of the question, quite out of the question,” he +replied;--“but you must often wish it, I am sure.” And he smiled with +such seeming pleasure at the conviction, that she must proceed another +step. + +“This present from the Campbells,” said she--“this pianoforte is very +kindly given.” + +“Yes,” he replied, and without the smallest apparent +embarrassment.--“But they would have done better had they given +her notice of it. Surprizes are foolish things. The pleasure is not +enhanced, and the inconvenience is often considerable. I should have +expected better judgment in Colonel Campbell.” + +From that moment, Emma could have taken her oath that Mr. Knightley had +had no concern in giving the instrument. But whether he were +entirely free from peculiar attachment--whether there were no actual +preference--remained a little longer doubtful. Towards the end of Jane's +second song, her voice grew thick. + +“That will do,” said he, when it was finished, thinking aloud--“you have +sung quite enough for one evening--now be quiet.” + +Another song, however, was soon begged for. “One more;--they would not +fatigue Miss Fairfax on any account, and would only ask for one more.” + And Frank Churchill was heard to say, “I think you could manage this +without effort; the first part is so very trifling. The strength of the +song falls on the second.” + +Mr. Knightley grew angry. + +“That fellow,” said he, indignantly, “thinks of nothing but shewing off +his own voice. This must not be.” And touching Miss Bates, who at that +moment passed near--“Miss Bates, are you mad, to let your niece sing +herself hoarse in this manner? Go, and interfere. They have no mercy on +her.” + +Miss Bates, in her real anxiety for Jane, could hardly stay even to +be grateful, before she stept forward and put an end to all farther +singing. Here ceased the concert part of the evening, for Miss Woodhouse +and Miss Fairfax were the only young lady performers; but soon (within +five minutes) the proposal of dancing--originating nobody exactly knew +where--was so effectually promoted by Mr. and Mrs. Cole, that every +thing was rapidly clearing away, to give proper space. Mrs. Weston, +capital in her country-dances, was seated, and beginning an irresistible +waltz; and Frank Churchill, coming up with most becoming gallantry to +Emma, had secured her hand, and led her up to the top. + +While waiting till the other young people could pair themselves off, +Emma found time, in spite of the compliments she was receiving on +her voice and her taste, to look about, and see what became of Mr. +Knightley. This would be a trial. He was no dancer in general. If he +were to be very alert in engaging Jane Fairfax now, it might augur +something. There was no immediate appearance. No; he was talking to Mrs. +Cole--he was looking on unconcerned; Jane was asked by somebody else, +and he was still talking to Mrs. Cole. + +Emma had no longer an alarm for Henry; his interest was yet safe; and +she led off the dance with genuine spirit and enjoyment. Not more than +five couple could be mustered; but the rarity and the suddenness of +it made it very delightful, and she found herself well matched in a +partner. They were a couple worth looking at. + +Two dances, unfortunately, were all that could be allowed. It was +growing late, and Miss Bates became anxious to get home, on her mother's +account. After some attempts, therefore, to be permitted to begin again, +they were obliged to thank Mrs. Weston, look sorrowful, and have done. + +“Perhaps it is as well,” said Frank Churchill, as he attended Emma to +her carriage. “I must have asked Miss Fairfax, and her languid dancing +would not have agreed with me, after yours.” + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Emma did not repent her condescension in going to the Coles. The visit +afforded her many pleasant recollections the next day; and all that she +might be supposed to have lost on the side of dignified seclusion, must +be amply repaid in the splendour of popularity. She must have delighted +the Coles--worthy people, who deserved to be made happy!--And left a +name behind her that would not soon die away. + +Perfect happiness, even in memory, is not common; and there were two +points on which she was not quite easy. She doubted whether she had not +transgressed the duty of woman by woman, in betraying her suspicions of +Jane Fairfax's feelings to Frank Churchill. It was hardly right; but it +had been so strong an idea, that it would escape her, and his submission +to all that she told, was a compliment to her penetration, which made +it difficult for her to be quite certain that she ought to have held her +tongue. + +The other circumstance of regret related also to Jane Fairfax; and +there she had no doubt. She did unfeignedly and unequivocally regret the +inferiority of her own playing and singing. She did most heartily +grieve over the idleness of her childhood--and sat down and practised +vigorously an hour and a half. + +She was then interrupted by Harriet's coming in; and if Harriet's praise +could have satisfied her, she might soon have been comforted. + +“Oh! if I could but play as well as you and Miss Fairfax!” + +“Don't class us together, Harriet. My playing is no more like her's, +than a lamp is like sunshine.” + +“Oh! dear--I think you play the best of the two. I think you play quite +as well as she does. I am sure I had much rather hear you. Every body +last night said how well you played.” + +“Those who knew any thing about it, must have felt the difference. The +truth is, Harriet, that my playing is just good enough to be praised, +but Jane Fairfax's is much beyond it.” + +“Well, I always shall think that you play quite as well as she does, or +that if there is any difference nobody would ever find it out. Mr. Cole +said how much taste you had; and Mr. Frank Churchill talked a great deal +about your taste, and that he valued taste much more than execution.” + +“Ah! but Jane Fairfax has them both, Harriet.” + +“Are you sure? I saw she had execution, but I did not know she had any +taste. Nobody talked about it. And I hate Italian singing.--There is no +understanding a word of it. Besides, if she does play so very well, you +know, it is no more than she is obliged to do, because she will have to +teach. The Coxes were wondering last night whether she would get into +any great family. How did you think the Coxes looked?” + +“Just as they always do--very vulgar.” + +“They told me something,” said Harriet rather hesitatingly; “but it is +nothing of any consequence.” + +Emma was obliged to ask what they had told her, though fearful of its +producing Mr. Elton. + +“They told me--that Mr. Martin dined with them last Saturday.” + +“Oh!” + +“He came to their father upon some business, and he asked him to stay to +dinner.” + +“Oh!” + +“They talked a great deal about him, especially Anne Cox. I do not know +what she meant, but she asked me if I thought I should go and stay there +again next summer.” + +“She meant to be impertinently curious, just as such an Anne Cox should +be.” + +“She said he was very agreeable the day he dined there. He sat by her at +dinner. Miss Nash thinks either of the Coxes would be very glad to marry +him.” + +“Very likely.--I think they are, without exception, the most vulgar +girls in Highbury.” + +Harriet had business at Ford's.--Emma thought it most prudent to go with +her. Another accidental meeting with the Martins was possible, and in +her present state, would be dangerous. + +Harriet, tempted by every thing and swayed by half a word, was always +very long at a purchase; and while she was still hanging over muslins +and changing her mind, Emma went to the door for amusement.--Much could +not be hoped from the traffic of even the busiest part of Highbury;--Mr. +Perry walking hastily by, Mr. William Cox letting himself in at the +office-door, Mr. Cole's carriage-horses returning from exercise, or a +stray letter-boy on an obstinate mule, were the liveliest objects she +could presume to expect; and when her eyes fell only on the butcher with +his tray, a tidy old woman travelling homewards from shop with her full +basket, two curs quarrelling over a dirty bone, and a string of dawdling +children round the baker's little bow-window eyeing the gingerbread, she +knew she had no reason to complain, and was amused enough; quite enough +still to stand at the door. A mind lively and at ease, can do with +seeing nothing, and can see nothing that does not answer. + +She looked down the Randalls road. The scene enlarged; two persons +appeared; Mrs. Weston and her son-in-law; they were walking into +Highbury;--to Hartfield of course. They were stopping, however, in the +first place at Mrs. Bates's; whose house was a little nearer +Randalls than Ford's; and had all but knocked, when Emma caught their +eye.--Immediately they crossed the road and came forward to her; and the +agreeableness of yesterday's engagement seemed to give fresh pleasure to +the present meeting. Mrs. Weston informed her that she was going to call +on the Bateses, in order to hear the new instrument. + +“For my companion tells me,” said she, “that I absolutely promised Miss +Bates last night, that I would come this morning. I was not aware of it +myself. I did not know that I had fixed a day, but as he says I did, I +am going now.” + +“And while Mrs. Weston pays her visit, I may be allowed, I hope,” said +Frank Churchill, “to join your party and wait for her at Hartfield--if +you are going home.” + +Mrs. Weston was disappointed. + +“I thought you meant to go with me. They would be very much pleased.” + +“Me! I should be quite in the way. But, perhaps--I may be equally in the +way here. Miss Woodhouse looks as if she did not want me. My aunt always +sends me off when she is shopping. She says I fidget her to death; and +Miss Woodhouse looks as if she could almost say the same. What am I to +do?” + +“I am here on no business of my own,” said Emma; “I am only waiting for +my friend. She will probably have soon done, and then we shall go home. +But you had better go with Mrs. Weston and hear the instrument.” + +“Well--if you advise it.--But (with a smile) if Colonel Campbell should +have employed a careless friend, and if it should prove to have an +indifferent tone--what shall I say? I shall be no support to Mrs. +Weston. She might do very well by herself. A disagreeable truth would be +palatable through her lips, but I am the wretchedest being in the world +at a civil falsehood.” + +“I do not believe any such thing,” replied Emma.--“I am persuaded that +you can be as insincere as your neighbours, when it is necessary; but +there is no reason to suppose the instrument is indifferent. Quite +otherwise indeed, if I understood Miss Fairfax's opinion last night.” + +“Do come with me,” said Mrs. Weston, “if it be not very disagreeable to +you. It need not detain us long. We will go to Hartfield afterwards. +We will follow them to Hartfield. I really wish you to call with me. It +will be felt so great an attention! and I always thought you meant it.” + +He could say no more; and with the hope of Hartfield to reward him, +returned with Mrs. Weston to Mrs. Bates's door. Emma watched them in, +and then joined Harriet at the interesting counter,--trying, with all +the force of her own mind, to convince her that if she wanted plain +muslin it was of no use to look at figured; and that a blue ribbon, be +it ever so beautiful, would still never match her yellow pattern. At +last it was all settled, even to the destination of the parcel. + +“Should I send it to Mrs. Goddard's, ma'am?” asked Mrs. +Ford.--“Yes--no--yes, to Mrs. Goddard's. Only my pattern gown is at +Hartfield. No, you shall send it to Hartfield, if you please. But then, +Mrs. Goddard will want to see it.--And I could take the pattern gown +home any day. But I shall want the ribbon directly--so it had better go +to Hartfield--at least the ribbon. You could make it into two parcels, +Mrs. Ford, could not you?” + +“It is not worth while, Harriet, to give Mrs. Ford the trouble of two +parcels.” + +“No more it is.” + +“No trouble in the world, ma'am,” said the obliging Mrs. Ford. + +“Oh! but indeed I would much rather have it only in one. Then, if you +please, you shall send it all to Mrs. Goddard's--I do not know--No, I +think, Miss Woodhouse, I may just as well have it sent to Hartfield, and +take it home with me at night. What do you advise?” + +“That you do not give another half-second to the subject. To Hartfield, +if you please, Mrs. Ford.” + +“Aye, that will be much best,” said Harriet, quite satisfied, “I should +not at all like to have it sent to Mrs. Goddard's.” + +Voices approached the shop--or rather one voice and two ladies: Mrs. +Weston and Miss Bates met them at the door. + +“My dear Miss Woodhouse,” said the latter, “I am just run across to +entreat the favour of you to come and sit down with us a little while, +and give us your opinion of our new instrument; you and Miss Smith. How +do you do, Miss Smith?--Very well I thank you.--And I begged Mrs. Weston +to come with me, that I might be sure of succeeding.” + +“I hope Mrs. Bates and Miss Fairfax are--” + +“Very well, I am much obliged to you. My mother is delightfully well; +and Jane caught no cold last night. How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad +to hear such a good account. Mrs. Weston told me you were here.--Oh! +then, said I, I must run across, I am sure Miss Woodhouse will allow me +just to run across and entreat her to come in; my mother will be so +very happy to see her--and now we are such a nice party, she cannot +refuse.--'Aye, pray do,' said Mr. Frank Churchill, 'Miss Woodhouse's +opinion of the instrument will be worth having.'--But, said I, I shall +be more sure of succeeding if one of you will go with me.--'Oh,' said +he, 'wait half a minute, till I have finished my job;'--For, would you +believe it, Miss Woodhouse, there he is, in the most obliging manner in +the world, fastening in the rivet of my mother's spectacles.--The rivet +came out, you know, this morning.--So very obliging!--For my mother had +no use of her spectacles--could not put them on. And, by the bye, every +body ought to have two pair of spectacles; they should indeed. Jane said +so. I meant to take them over to John Saunders the first thing I did, +but something or other hindered me all the morning; first one thing, +then another, there is no saying what, you know. At one time Patty came +to say she thought the kitchen chimney wanted sweeping. Oh, said I, +Patty do not come with your bad news to me. Here is the rivet of your +mistress's spectacles out. Then the baked apples came home, Mrs. Wallis +sent them by her boy; they are extremely civil and obliging to us, the +Wallises, always--I have heard some people say that Mrs. Wallis can be +uncivil and give a very rude answer, but we have never known any thing +but the greatest attention from them. And it cannot be for the value +of our custom now, for what is our consumption of bread, you know? +Only three of us.--besides dear Jane at present--and she really eats +nothing--makes such a shocking breakfast, you would be quite frightened +if you saw it. I dare not let my mother know how little she eats--so I +say one thing and then I say another, and it passes off. But about the +middle of the day she gets hungry, and there is nothing she likes so +well as these baked apples, and they are extremely wholesome, for I took +the opportunity the other day of asking Mr. Perry; I happened to meet +him in the street. Not that I had any doubt before--I have so often +heard Mr. Woodhouse recommend a baked apple. I believe it is the only +way that Mr. Woodhouse thinks the fruit thoroughly wholesome. We +have apple-dumplings, however, very often. Patty makes an excellent +apple-dumpling. Well, Mrs. Weston, you have prevailed, I hope, and these +ladies will oblige us.” + +Emma would be “very happy to wait on Mrs. Bates, &c.,” and they did at +last move out of the shop, with no farther delay from Miss Bates than, + +“How do you do, Mrs. Ford? I beg your pardon. I did not see you before. +I hear you have a charming collection of new ribbons from town. Jane +came back delighted yesterday. Thank ye, the gloves do very well--only a +little too large about the wrist; but Jane is taking them in.” + +“What was I talking of?” said she, beginning again when they were all in +the street. + +Emma wondered on what, of all the medley, she would fix. + +“I declare I cannot recollect what I was talking of.--Oh! my mother's +spectacles. So very obliging of Mr. Frank Churchill! 'Oh!' said he, +'I do think I can fasten the rivet; I like a job of this kind +excessively.'--Which you know shewed him to be so very.... Indeed I must +say that, much as I had heard of him before and much as I had expected, +he very far exceeds any thing.... I do congratulate you, Mrs. Weston, +most warmly. He seems every thing the fondest parent could.... +'Oh!' said he, 'I can fasten the rivet. I like a job of that sort +excessively.' I never shall forget his manner. And when I brought out +the baked apples from the closet, and hoped our friends would be so very +obliging as to take some, 'Oh!' said he directly, 'there is nothing +in the way of fruit half so good, and these are the finest-looking +home-baked apples I ever saw in my life.' That, you know, was so +very.... And I am sure, by his manner, it was no compliment. Indeed they +are very delightful apples, and Mrs. Wallis does them full justice--only +we do not have them baked more than twice, and Mr. Woodhouse made us +promise to have them done three times--but Miss Woodhouse will be so +good as not to mention it. The apples themselves are the very finest +sort for baking, beyond a doubt; all from Donwell--some of Mr. +Knightley's most liberal supply. He sends us a sack every year; and +certainly there never was such a keeping apple anywhere as one of his +trees--I believe there is two of them. My mother says the orchard was +always famous in her younger days. But I was really quite shocked the +other day--for Mr. Knightley called one morning, and Jane was eating +these apples, and we talked about them and said how much she enjoyed +them, and he asked whether we were not got to the end of our stock. 'I +am sure you must be,' said he, 'and I will send you another supply; for +I have a great many more than I can ever use. William Larkins let me +keep a larger quantity than usual this year. I will send you some more, +before they get good for nothing.' So I begged he would not--for really +as to ours being gone, I could not absolutely say that we had a great +many left--it was but half a dozen indeed; but they should be all kept +for Jane; and I could not at all bear that he should be sending us more, +so liberal as he had been already; and Jane said the same. And when +he was gone, she almost quarrelled with me--No, I should not say +quarrelled, for we never had a quarrel in our lives; but she was quite +distressed that I had owned the apples were so nearly gone; she wished +I had made him believe we had a great many left. Oh, said I, my dear, +I did say as much as I could. However, the very same evening William +Larkins came over with a large basket of apples, the same sort of +apples, a bushel at least, and I was very much obliged, and went down +and spoke to William Larkins and said every thing, as you may suppose. +William Larkins is such an old acquaintance! I am always glad to see +him. But, however, I found afterwards from Patty, that William said it +was all the apples of _that_ sort his master had; he had brought them +all--and now his master had not one left to bake or boil. William did +not seem to mind it himself, he was so pleased to think his master had +sold so many; for William, you know, thinks more of his master's profit +than any thing; but Mrs. Hodges, he said, was quite displeased at their +being all sent away. She could not bear that her master should not be +able to have another apple-tart this spring. He told Patty this, but bid +her not mind it, and be sure not to say any thing to us about it, for +Mrs. Hodges _would_ be cross sometimes, and as long as so many sacks +were sold, it did not signify who ate the remainder. And so Patty told +me, and I was excessively shocked indeed! I would not have Mr. Knightley +know any thing about it for the world! He would be so very.... I wanted +to keep it from Jane's knowledge; but, unluckily, I had mentioned it +before I was aware.” + +Miss Bates had just done as Patty opened the door; and her visitors +walked upstairs without having any regular narration to attend to, +pursued only by the sounds of her desultory good-will. + +“Pray take care, Mrs. Weston, there is a step at the turning. Pray take +care, Miss Woodhouse, ours is rather a dark staircase--rather darker +and narrower than one could wish. Miss Smith, pray take care. Miss +Woodhouse, I am quite concerned, I am sure you hit your foot. Miss +Smith, the step at the turning.” + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The appearance of the little sitting-room as they entered, was +tranquillity itself; Mrs. Bates, deprived of her usual employment, +slumbering on one side of the fire, Frank Churchill, at a table near +her, most deedily occupied about her spectacles, and Jane Fairfax, +standing with her back to them, intent on her pianoforte. + +Busy as he was, however, the young man was yet able to shew a most happy +countenance on seeing Emma again. + +“This is a pleasure,” said he, in rather a low voice, “coming at least +ten minutes earlier than I had calculated. You find me trying to be +useful; tell me if you think I shall succeed.” + +“What!” said Mrs. Weston, “have not you finished it yet? you would not +earn a very good livelihood as a working silversmith at this rate.” + +“I have not been working uninterruptedly,” he replied, “I have been +assisting Miss Fairfax in trying to make her instrument stand steadily, +it was not quite firm; an unevenness in the floor, I believe. You see +we have been wedging one leg with paper. This was very kind of you to be +persuaded to come. I was almost afraid you would be hurrying home.” + +He contrived that she should be seated by him; and was sufficiently +employed in looking out the best baked apple for her, and trying to make +her help or advise him in his work, till Jane Fairfax was quite ready +to sit down to the pianoforte again. That she was not immediately ready, +Emma did suspect to arise from the state of her nerves; she had not yet +possessed the instrument long enough to touch it without emotion; she +must reason herself into the power of performance; and Emma could not +but pity such feelings, whatever their origin, and could not but resolve +never to expose them to her neighbour again. + +At last Jane began, and though the first bars were feebly given, the +powers of the instrument were gradually done full justice to. Mrs. +Weston had been delighted before, and was delighted again; Emma +joined her in all her praise; and the pianoforte, with every proper +discrimination, was pronounced to be altogether of the highest promise. + +“Whoever Colonel Campbell might employ,” said Frank Churchill, with a +smile at Emma, “the person has not chosen ill. I heard a good deal of +Colonel Campbell's taste at Weymouth; and the softness of the upper +notes I am sure is exactly what he and _all_ _that_ _party_ would +particularly prize. I dare say, Miss Fairfax, that he either gave his +friend very minute directions, or wrote to Broadwood himself. Do not you +think so?” + +Jane did not look round. She was not obliged to hear. Mrs. Weston had +been speaking to her at the same moment. + +“It is not fair,” said Emma, in a whisper; “mine was a random guess. Do +not distress her.” + +He shook his head with a smile, and looked as if he had very little +doubt and very little mercy. Soon afterwards he began again, + +“How much your friends in Ireland must be enjoying your pleasure on this +occasion, Miss Fairfax. I dare say they often think of you, and wonder +which will be the day, the precise day of the instrument's coming to +hand. Do you imagine Colonel Campbell knows the business to be going +forward just at this time?--Do you imagine it to be the consequence +of an immediate commission from him, or that he may have sent only +a general direction, an order indefinite as to time, to depend upon +contingencies and conveniences?” + +He paused. She could not but hear; she could not avoid answering, + +“Till I have a letter from Colonel Campbell,” said she, in a voice of +forced calmness, “I can imagine nothing with any confidence. It must be +all conjecture.” + +“Conjecture--aye, sometimes one conjectures right, and sometimes one +conjectures wrong. I wish I could conjecture how soon I shall make this +rivet quite firm. What nonsense one talks, Miss Woodhouse, when hard +at work, if one talks at all;--your real workmen, I suppose, hold their +tongues; but we gentlemen labourers if we get hold of a word--Miss +Fairfax said something about conjecturing. There, it is done. I have the +pleasure, madam, (to Mrs. Bates,) of restoring your spectacles, healed +for the present.” + +He was very warmly thanked both by mother and daughter; to escape a +little from the latter, he went to the pianoforte, and begged Miss +Fairfax, who was still sitting at it, to play something more. + +“If you are very kind,” said he, “it will be one of the waltzes we +danced last night;--let me live them over again. You did not enjoy them +as I did; you appeared tired the whole time. I believe you were glad we +danced no longer; but I would have given worlds--all the worlds one ever +has to give--for another half-hour.” + +She played. + +“What felicity it is to hear a tune again which _has_ made one +happy!--If I mistake not that was danced at Weymouth.” + +She looked up at him for a moment, coloured deeply, and played something +else. He took some music from a chair near the pianoforte, and turning +to Emma, said, + +“Here is something quite new to me. Do you know it?--Cramer.--And here +are a new set of Irish melodies. That, from such a quarter, one might +expect. This was all sent with the instrument. Very thoughtful of +Colonel Campbell, was not it?--He knew Miss Fairfax could have no music +here. I honour that part of the attention particularly; it shews it to +have been so thoroughly from the heart. Nothing hastily done; nothing +incomplete. True affection only could have prompted it.” + +Emma wished he would be less pointed, yet could not help being amused; +and when on glancing her eye towards Jane Fairfax she caught the remains +of a smile, when she saw that with all the deep blush of consciousness, +there had been a smile of secret delight, she had less scruple in the +amusement, and much less compunction with respect to her.--This +amiable, upright, perfect Jane Fairfax was apparently cherishing very +reprehensible feelings. + +He brought all the music to her, and they looked it over together.--Emma +took the opportunity of whispering, + +“You speak too plain. She must understand you.” + +“I hope she does. I would have her understand me. I am not in the least +ashamed of my meaning.” + +“But really, I am half ashamed, and wish I had never taken up the idea.” + +“I am very glad you did, and that you communicated it to me. I have now +a key to all her odd looks and ways. Leave shame to her. If she does +wrong, she ought to feel it.” + +“She is not entirely without it, I think.” + +“I do not see much sign of it. She is playing _Robin_ _Adair_ at this +moment--_his_ favourite.” + +Shortly afterwards Miss Bates, passing near the window, descried Mr. +Knightley on horse-back not far off. + +“Mr. Knightley I declare!--I must speak to him if possible, just to +thank him. I will not open the window here; it would give you all cold; +but I can go into my mother's room you know. I dare say he will come +in when he knows who is here. Quite delightful to have you all meet +so!--Our little room so honoured!” + +She was in the adjoining chamber while she still spoke, and opening the +casement there, immediately called Mr. Knightley's attention, and every +syllable of their conversation was as distinctly heard by the others, as +if it had passed within the same apartment. + +“How d' ye do?--how d'ye do?--Very well, I thank you. So obliged to you +for the carriage last night. We were just in time; my mother just ready +for us. Pray come in; do come in. You will find some friends here.” + +So began Miss Bates; and Mr. Knightley seemed determined to be heard in +his turn, for most resolutely and commandingly did he say, + +“How is your niece, Miss Bates?--I want to inquire after you all, but +particularly your niece. How is Miss Fairfax?--I hope she caught no cold +last night. How is she to-day? Tell me how Miss Fairfax is.” + +And Miss Bates was obliged to give a direct answer before he would hear +her in any thing else. The listeners were amused; and Mrs. Weston gave +Emma a look of particular meaning. But Emma still shook her head in +steady scepticism. + +“So obliged to you!--so very much obliged to you for the carriage,” + resumed Miss Bates. + +He cut her short with, + +“I am going to Kingston. Can I do any thing for you?” + +“Oh! dear, Kingston--are you?--Mrs. Cole was saying the other day she +wanted something from Kingston.” + +“Mrs. Cole has servants to send. Can I do any thing for _you_?” + +“No, I thank you. But do come in. Who do you think is here?--Miss +Woodhouse and Miss Smith; so kind as to call to hear the new pianoforte. +Do put up your horse at the Crown, and come in.” + +“Well,” said he, in a deliberating manner, “for five minutes, perhaps.” + +“And here is Mrs. Weston and Mr. Frank Churchill too!--Quite delightful; +so many friends!” + +“No, not now, I thank you. I could not stay two minutes. I must get on +to Kingston as fast as I can.” + +“Oh! do come in. They will be so very happy to see you.” + +“No, no; your room is full enough. I will call another day, and hear the +pianoforte.” + +“Well, I am so sorry!--Oh! Mr. Knightley, what a delightful party last +night; how extremely pleasant.--Did you ever see such dancing?--Was not +it delightful?--Miss Woodhouse and Mr. Frank Churchill; I never saw any +thing equal to it.” + +“Oh! very delightful indeed; I can say nothing less, for I suppose Miss +Woodhouse and Mr. Frank Churchill are hearing every thing that passes. +And (raising his voice still more) I do not see why Miss Fairfax should +not be mentioned too. I think Miss Fairfax dances very well; and Mrs. +Weston is the very best country-dance player, without exception, +in England. Now, if your friends have any gratitude, they will say +something pretty loud about you and me in return; but I cannot stay to +hear it.” + +“Oh! Mr. Knightley, one moment more; something of consequence--so +shocked!--Jane and I are both so shocked about the apples!” + +“What is the matter now?” + +“To think of your sending us all your store apples. You said you had +a great many, and now you have not one left. We really are so shocked! +Mrs. Hodges may well be angry. William Larkins mentioned it here. You +should not have done it, indeed you should not. Ah! he is off. He never +can bear to be thanked. But I thought he would have staid now, and it +would have been a pity not to have mentioned.... Well, (returning to the +room,) I have not been able to succeed. Mr. Knightley cannot stop. He is +going to Kingston. He asked me if he could do any thing....” + +“Yes,” said Jane, “we heard his kind offers, we heard every thing.” + +“Oh! yes, my dear, I dare say you might, because you know, the door was +open, and the window was open, and Mr. Knightley spoke loud. You must +have heard every thing to be sure. 'Can I do any thing for you at +Kingston?' said he; so I just mentioned.... Oh! Miss Woodhouse, must you +be going?--You seem but just come--so very obliging of you.” + +Emma found it really time to be at home; the visit had already lasted +long; and on examining watches, so much of the morning was perceived +to be gone, that Mrs. Weston and her companion taking leave also, could +allow themselves only to walk with the two young ladies to Hartfield +gates, before they set off for Randalls. + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +It may be possible to do without dancing entirely. Instances have been +known of young people passing many, many months successively, without +being at any ball of any description, and no material injury accrue +either to body or mind;--but when a beginning is made--when the +felicities of rapid motion have once been, though slightly, felt--it +must be a very heavy set that does not ask for more. + +Frank Churchill had danced once at Highbury, and longed to dance again; +and the last half-hour of an evening which Mr. Woodhouse was persuaded +to spend with his daughter at Randalls, was passed by the two young +people in schemes on the subject. Frank's was the first idea; and his +the greatest zeal in pursuing it; for the lady was the best judge of the +difficulties, and the most solicitous for accommodation and appearance. +But still she had inclination enough for shewing people again how +delightfully Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse danced--for +doing that in which she need not blush to compare herself with Jane +Fairfax--and even for simple dancing itself, without any of the wicked +aids of vanity--to assist him first in pacing out the room they were in +to see what it could be made to hold--and then in taking the dimensions +of the other parlour, in the hope of discovering, in spite of all that +Mr. Weston could say of their exactly equal size, that it was a little +the largest. + +His first proposition and request, that the dance begun at Mr. Cole's +should be finished there--that the same party should be collected, +and the same musician engaged, met with the readiest acquiescence. Mr. +Weston entered into the idea with thorough enjoyment, and Mrs. Weston +most willingly undertook to play as long as they could wish to dance; +and the interesting employment had followed, of reckoning up exactly who +there would be, and portioning out the indispensable division of space +to every couple. + +“You and Miss Smith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss +Coxes five,” had been repeated many times over. “And there will be the +two Gilberts, young Cox, my father, and myself, besides Mr. Knightley. +Yes, that will be quite enough for pleasure. You and Miss Smith, and +Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss Coxes five; and for five +couple there will be plenty of room.” + +But soon it came to be on one side, + +“But will there be good room for five couple?--I really do not think +there will.” + +On another, + +“And after all, five couple are not enough to make it worth while to +stand up. Five couple are nothing, when one thinks seriously about it. +It will not do to _invite_ five couple. It can be allowable only as the +thought of the moment.” + +Somebody said that _Miss_ Gilbert was expected at her brother's, and +must be invited with the rest. Somebody else believed _Mrs_. Gilbert +would have danced the other evening, if she had been asked. A word was +put in for a second young Cox; and at last, Mr. Weston naming one family +of cousins who must be included, and another of very old acquaintance +who could not be left out, it became a certainty that the five couple +would be at least ten, and a very interesting speculation in what +possible manner they could be disposed of. + +The doors of the two rooms were just opposite each other. “Might not +they use both rooms, and dance across the passage?” It seemed the +best scheme; and yet it was not so good but that many of them wanted a +better. Emma said it would be awkward; Mrs. Weston was in distress about +the supper; and Mr. Woodhouse opposed it earnestly, on the score of +health. It made him so very unhappy, indeed, that it could not be +persevered in. + +“Oh! no,” said he; “it would be the extreme of imprudence. I could not +bear it for Emma!--Emma is not strong. She would catch a dreadful cold. +So would poor little Harriet. So you would all. Mrs. Weston, you would +be quite laid up; do not let them talk of such a wild thing. Pray do +not let them talk of it. That young man (speaking lower) is very +thoughtless. Do not tell his father, but that young man is not quite +the thing. He has been opening the doors very often this evening, +and keeping them open very inconsiderately. He does not think of the +draught. I do not mean to set you against him, but indeed he is not +quite the thing!” + +Mrs. Weston was sorry for such a charge. She knew the importance of +it, and said every thing in her power to do it away. Every door was now +closed, the passage plan given up, and the first scheme of dancing only +in the room they were in resorted to again; and with such good-will on +Frank Churchill's part, that the space which a quarter of an hour before +had been deemed barely sufficient for five couple, was now endeavoured +to be made out quite enough for ten. + +“We were too magnificent,” said he. “We allowed unnecessary room. Ten +couple may stand here very well.” + +Emma demurred. “It would be a crowd--a sad crowd; and what could be +worse than dancing without space to turn in?” + +“Very true,” he gravely replied; “it was very bad.” But still he went on +measuring, and still he ended with, + +“I think there will be very tolerable room for ten couple.” + +“No, no,” said she, “you are quite unreasonable. It would be dreadful +to be standing so close! Nothing can be farther from pleasure than to be +dancing in a crowd--and a crowd in a little room!” + +“There is no denying it,” he replied. “I agree with you exactly. A crowd +in a little room--Miss Woodhouse, you have the art of giving pictures +in a few words. Exquisite, quite exquisite!--Still, however, having +proceeded so far, one is unwilling to give the matter up. It would be +a disappointment to my father--and altogether--I do not know that--I am +rather of opinion that ten couple might stand here very well.” + +Emma perceived that the nature of his gallantry was a little +self-willed, and that he would rather oppose than lose the pleasure of +dancing with her; but she took the compliment, and forgave the rest. +Had she intended ever to _marry_ him, it might have been worth while to +pause and consider, and try to understand the value of his preference, +and the character of his temper; but for all the purposes of their +acquaintance, he was quite amiable enough. + +Before the middle of the next day, he was at Hartfield; and he entered +the room with such an agreeable smile as certified the continuance of +the scheme. It soon appeared that he came to announce an improvement. + +“Well, Miss Woodhouse,” he almost immediately began, “your inclination +for dancing has not been quite frightened away, I hope, by the terrors +of my father's little rooms. I bring a new proposal on the subject:--a +thought of my father's, which waits only your approbation to be acted +upon. May I hope for the honour of your hand for the two first dances +of this little projected ball, to be given, not at Randalls, but at the +Crown Inn?” + +“The Crown!” + +“Yes; if you and Mr. Woodhouse see no objection, and I trust you cannot, +my father hopes his friends will be so kind as to visit him there. +Better accommodations, he can promise them, and not a less grateful +welcome than at Randalls. It is his own idea. Mrs. Weston sees no +objection to it, provided you are satisfied. This is what we all feel. +Oh! you were perfectly right! Ten couple, in either of the Randalls +rooms, would have been insufferable!--Dreadful!--I felt how right you +were the whole time, but was too anxious for securing _any_ _thing_ +to like to yield. Is not it a good exchange?--You consent--I hope you +consent?” + +“It appears to me a plan that nobody can object to, if Mr. and Mrs. +Weston do not. I think it admirable; and, as far as I can answer for +myself, shall be most happy--It seems the only improvement that could +be. Papa, do you not think it an excellent improvement?” + +She was obliged to repeat and explain it, before it was fully +comprehended; and then, being quite new, farther representations were +necessary to make it acceptable. + +“No; he thought it very far from an improvement--a very bad plan--much +worse than the other. A room at an inn was always damp and dangerous; +never properly aired, or fit to be inhabited. If they must dance, they +had better dance at Randalls. He had never been in the room at the Crown +in his life--did not know the people who kept it by sight.--Oh! no--a +very bad plan. They would catch worse colds at the Crown than anywhere.” + +“I was going to observe, sir,” said Frank Churchill, “that one of the +great recommendations of this change would be the very little danger +of any body's catching cold--so much less danger at the Crown than at +Randalls! Mr. Perry might have reason to regret the alteration, but +nobody else could.” + +“Sir,” said Mr. Woodhouse, rather warmly, “you are very much mistaken +if you suppose Mr. Perry to be that sort of character. Mr. Perry is +extremely concerned when any of us are ill. But I do not understand how +the room at the Crown can be safer for you than your father's house.” + +“From the very circumstance of its being larger, sir. We shall have no +occasion to open the windows at all--not once the whole evening; and it +is that dreadful habit of opening the windows, letting in cold air upon +heated bodies, which (as you well know, sir) does the mischief.” + +“Open the windows!--but surely, Mr. Churchill, nobody would think of +opening the windows at Randalls. Nobody could be so imprudent! I never +heard of such a thing. Dancing with open windows!--I am sure, neither +your father nor Mrs. Weston (poor Miss Taylor that was) would suffer +it.” + +“Ah! sir--but a thoughtless young person will sometimes step behind a +window-curtain, and throw up a sash, without its being suspected. I have +often known it done myself.” + +“Have you indeed, sir?--Bless me! I never could have supposed it. But I +live out of the world, and am often astonished at what I hear. However, +this does make a difference; and, perhaps, when we come to talk it +over--but these sort of things require a good deal of consideration. One +cannot resolve upon them in a hurry. If Mr. and Mrs. Weston will be so +obliging as to call here one morning, we may talk it over, and see what +can be done.” + +“But, unfortunately, sir, my time is so limited--” + +“Oh!” interrupted Emma, “there will be plenty of time for talking every +thing over. There is no hurry at all. If it can be contrived to be at +the Crown, papa, it will be very convenient for the horses. They will be +so near their own stable.” + +“So they will, my dear. That is a great thing. Not that James ever +complains; but it is right to spare our horses when we can. If I could +be sure of the rooms being thoroughly aired--but is Mrs. Stokes to be +trusted? I doubt it. I do not know her, even by sight.” + +“I can answer for every thing of that nature, sir, because it will be +under Mrs. Weston's care. Mrs. Weston undertakes to direct the whole.” + +“There, papa!--Now you must be satisfied--Our own dear Mrs. Weston, who +is carefulness itself. Do not you remember what Mr. Perry said, so many +years ago, when I had the measles? 'If _Miss_ _Taylor_ undertakes to +wrap Miss Emma up, you need not have any fears, sir.' How often have I +heard you speak of it as such a compliment to her!” + +“Aye, very true. Mr. Perry did say so. I shall never forget it. Poor +little Emma! You were very bad with the measles; that is, you would have +been very bad, but for Perry's great attention. He came four times a day +for a week. He said, from the first, it was a very good sort--which +was our great comfort; but the measles are a dreadful complaint. I hope +whenever poor Isabella's little ones have the measles, she will send for +Perry.” + +“My father and Mrs. Weston are at the Crown at this moment,” said Frank +Churchill, “examining the capabilities of the house. I left them there +and came on to Hartfield, impatient for your opinion, and hoping you +might be persuaded to join them and give your advice on the spot. I was +desired to say so from both. It would be the greatest pleasure to +them, if you could allow me to attend you there. They can do nothing +satisfactorily without you.” + +Emma was most happy to be called to such a council; and her father, +engaging to think it all over while she was gone, the two young people +set off together without delay for the Crown. There were Mr. and Mrs. +Weston; delighted to see her and receive her approbation, very busy and +very happy in their different way; she, in some little distress; and he, +finding every thing perfect. + +“Emma,” said she, “this paper is worse than I expected. Look! in places +you see it is dreadfully dirty; and the wainscot is more yellow and +forlorn than any thing I could have imagined.” + +“My dear, you are too particular,” said her husband. “What does all that +signify? You will see nothing of it by candlelight. It will be as +clean as Randalls by candlelight. We never see any thing of it on our +club-nights.” + +The ladies here probably exchanged looks which meant, “Men never know +when things are dirty or not;” and the gentlemen perhaps thought each to +himself, “Women will have their little nonsenses and needless cares.” + +One perplexity, however, arose, which the gentlemen did not disdain. +It regarded a supper-room. At the time of the ballroom's being built, +suppers had not been in question; and a small card-room adjoining, was +the only addition. What was to be done? This card-room would be wanted +as a card-room now; or, if cards were conveniently voted unnecessary +by their four selves, still was it not too small for any comfortable +supper? Another room of much better size might be secured for the +purpose; but it was at the other end of the house, and a long awkward +passage must be gone through to get at it. This made a difficulty. Mrs. +Weston was afraid of draughts for the young people in that passage; +and neither Emma nor the gentlemen could tolerate the prospect of being +miserably crowded at supper. + +Mrs. Weston proposed having no regular supper; merely sandwiches, +&c., set out in the little room; but that was scouted as a wretched +suggestion. A private dance, without sitting down to supper, was +pronounced an infamous fraud upon the rights of men and women; and +Mrs. Weston must not speak of it again. She then took another line of +expediency, and looking into the doubtful room, observed, + +“I do not think it _is_ so very small. We shall not be many, you know.” + +And Mr. Weston at the same time, walking briskly with long steps through +the passage, was calling out, + +“You talk a great deal of the length of this passage, my dear. It is a +mere nothing after all; and not the least draught from the stairs.” + +“I wish,” said Mrs. Weston, “one could know which arrangement our guests +in general would like best. To do what would be most generally pleasing +must be our object--if one could but tell what that would be.” + +“Yes, very true,” cried Frank, “very true. You want your neighbours' +opinions. I do not wonder at you. If one could ascertain what the chief +of them--the Coles, for instance. They are not far off. Shall I call +upon them? Or Miss Bates? She is still nearer.--And I do not know +whether Miss Bates is not as likely to understand the inclinations of +the rest of the people as any body. I think we do want a larger council. +Suppose I go and invite Miss Bates to join us?” + +“Well--if you please,” said Mrs. Weston rather hesitating, “if you think +she will be of any use.” + +“You will get nothing to the purpose from Miss Bates,” said Emma. “She +will be all delight and gratitude, but she will tell you nothing. She +will not even listen to your questions. I see no advantage in consulting +Miss Bates.” + +“But she is so amusing, so extremely amusing! I am very fond of hearing +Miss Bates talk. And I need not bring the whole family, you know.” + +Here Mr. Weston joined them, and on hearing what was proposed, gave it +his decided approbation. + +“Aye, do, Frank.--Go and fetch Miss Bates, and let us end the matter at +once. She will enjoy the scheme, I am sure; and I do not know a properer +person for shewing us how to do away difficulties. Fetch Miss Bates. +We are growing a little too nice. She is a standing lesson of how to be +happy. But fetch them both. Invite them both.” + +“Both sir! Can the old lady?”... + +“The old lady! No, the young lady, to be sure. I shall think you a great +blockhead, Frank, if you bring the aunt without the niece.” + +“Oh! I beg your pardon, sir. I did not immediately recollect. +Undoubtedly if you wish it, I will endeavour to persuade them both.” And +away he ran. + +Long before he reappeared, attending the short, neat, brisk-moving aunt, +and her elegant niece,--Mrs. Weston, like a sweet-tempered woman and +a good wife, had examined the passage again, and found the evils of it +much less than she had supposed before--indeed very trifling; and here +ended the difficulties of decision. All the rest, in speculation at +least, was perfectly smooth. All the minor arrangements of table and +chair, lights and music, tea and supper, made themselves; or were left +as mere trifles to be settled at any time between Mrs. Weston and Mrs. +Stokes.--Every body invited, was certainly to come; Frank had already +written to Enscombe to propose staying a few days beyond his fortnight, +which could not possibly be refused. And a delightful dance it was to +be. + +Most cordially, when Miss Bates arrived, did she agree that it must. +As a counsellor she was not wanted; but as an approver, (a much safer +character,) she was truly welcome. Her approbation, at once general +and minute, warm and incessant, could not but please; and for another +half-hour they were all walking to and fro, between the different rooms, +some suggesting, some attending, and all in happy enjoyment of the +future. The party did not break up without Emma's being positively +secured for the two first dances by the hero of the evening, nor without +her overhearing Mr. Weston whisper to his wife, “He has asked her, my +dear. That's right. I knew he would!” + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +One thing only was wanting to make the prospect of the ball completely +satisfactory to Emma--its being fixed for a day within the granted +term of Frank Churchill's stay in Surry; for, in spite of Mr. Weston's +confidence, she could not think it so very impossible that the +Churchills might not allow their nephew to remain a day beyond his +fortnight. But this was not judged feasible. The preparations must take +their time, nothing could be properly ready till the third week were +entered on, and for a few days they must be planning, proceeding and +hoping in uncertainty--at the risk--in her opinion, the great risk, of +its being all in vain. + +Enscombe however was gracious, gracious in fact, if not in word. His +wish of staying longer evidently did not please; but it was not opposed. +All was safe and prosperous; and as the removal of one solicitude +generally makes way for another, Emma, being now certain of her +ball, began to adopt as the next vexation Mr. Knightley's provoking +indifference about it. Either because he did not dance himself, or +because the plan had been formed without his being consulted, he +seemed resolved that it should not interest him, determined against its +exciting any present curiosity, or affording him any future amusement. +To her voluntary communications Emma could get no more approving reply, +than, + +“Very well. If the Westons think it worth while to be at all this +trouble for a few hours of noisy entertainment, I have nothing to say +against it, but that they shall not chuse pleasures for me.--Oh! yes, +I must be there; I could not refuse; and I will keep as much awake as +I can; but I would rather be at home, looking over William Larkins's +week's account; much rather, I confess.--Pleasure in seeing +dancing!--not I, indeed--I never look at it--I do not know who +does.--Fine dancing, I believe, like virtue, must be its own reward. +Those who are standing by are usually thinking of something very +different.” + +This Emma felt was aimed at her; and it made her quite angry. It was not +in compliment to Jane Fairfax however that he was so indifferent, or so +indignant; he was not guided by _her_ feelings in reprobating the ball, +for _she_ enjoyed the thought of it to an extraordinary degree. It made +her animated--open hearted--she voluntarily said;-- + +“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, I hope nothing may happen to prevent the ball. +What a disappointment it would be! I do look forward to it, I own, with +_very_ great pleasure.” + +It was not to oblige Jane Fairfax therefore that he would have preferred +the society of William Larkins. No!--she was more and more convinced +that Mrs. Weston was quite mistaken in that surmise. There was a great +deal of friendly and of compassionate attachment on his side--but no +love. + +Alas! there was soon no leisure for quarrelling with Mr. Knightley. Two +days of joyful security were immediately followed by the over-throw of +every thing. A letter arrived from Mr. Churchill to urge his nephew's +instant return. Mrs. Churchill was unwell--far too unwell to do without +him; she had been in a very suffering state (so said her husband) +when writing to her nephew two days before, though from her usual +unwillingness to give pain, and constant habit of never thinking of +herself, she had not mentioned it; but now she was too ill to trifle, +and must entreat him to set off for Enscombe without delay. + +The substance of this letter was forwarded to Emma, in a note from Mrs. +Weston, instantly. As to his going, it was inevitable. He must be gone +within a few hours, though without feeling any real alarm for his aunt, +to lessen his repugnance. He knew her illnesses; they never occurred but +for her own convenience. + +Mrs. Weston added, “that he could only allow himself time to hurry to +Highbury, after breakfast, and take leave of the few friends there +whom he could suppose to feel any interest in him; and that he might be +expected at Hartfield very soon.” + +This wretched note was the finale of Emma's breakfast. When once it had +been read, there was no doing any thing, but lament and exclaim. The +loss of the ball--the loss of the young man--and all that the young man +might be feeling!--It was too wretched!--Such a delightful evening as +it would have been!--Every body so happy! and she and her partner the +happiest!--“I said it would be so,” was the only consolation. + +Her father's feelings were quite distinct. He thought principally of +Mrs. Churchill's illness, and wanted to know how she was treated; and as +for the ball, it was shocking to have dear Emma disappointed; but they +would all be safer at home. + +Emma was ready for her visitor some time before he appeared; but if this +reflected at all upon his impatience, his sorrowful look and total want +of spirits when he did come might redeem him. He felt the going away +almost too much to speak of it. His dejection was most evident. He +sat really lost in thought for the first few minutes; and when rousing +himself, it was only to say, + +“Of all horrid things, leave-taking is the worst.” + +“But you will come again,” said Emma. “This will not be your only visit +to Randalls.” + +“Ah!--(shaking his head)--the uncertainty of when I may be able to +return!--I shall try for it with a zeal!--It will be the object of +all my thoughts and cares!--and if my uncle and aunt go to town this +spring--but I am afraid--they did not stir last spring--I am afraid it +is a custom gone for ever.” + +“Our poor ball must be quite given up.” + +“Ah! that ball!--why did we wait for any thing?--why not seize the +pleasure at once?--How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, +foolish preparation!--You told us it would be so.--Oh! Miss Woodhouse, +why are you always so right?” + +“Indeed, I am very sorry to be right in this instance. I would much +rather have been merry than wise.” + +“If I can come again, we are still to have our ball. My father depends +on it. Do not forget your engagement.” + +Emma looked graciously. + +“Such a fortnight as it has been!” he continued; “every day more +precious and more delightful than the day before!--every day making +me less fit to bear any other place. Happy those, who can remain at +Highbury!” + +“As you do us such ample justice now,” said Emma, laughing, “I will +venture to ask, whether you did not come a little doubtfully at first? +Do not we rather surpass your expectations? I am sure we do. I am sure +you did not much expect to like us. You would not have been so long in +coming, if you had had a pleasant idea of Highbury.” + +He laughed rather consciously; and though denying the sentiment, Emma +was convinced that it had been so. + +“And you must be off this very morning?” + +“Yes; my father is to join me here: we shall walk back together, and I +must be off immediately. I am almost afraid that every moment will bring +him.” + +“Not five minutes to spare even for your friends Miss Fairfax and Miss +Bates? How unlucky! Miss Bates's powerful, argumentative mind might have +strengthened yours.” + +“Yes--I _have_ called there; passing the door, I thought it better. It +was a right thing to do. I went in for three minutes, and was detained +by Miss Bates's being absent. She was out; and I felt it impossible not +to wait till she came in. She is a woman that one may, that one _must_ +laugh at; but that one would not wish to slight. It was better to pay my +visit, then”-- + +He hesitated, got up, walked to a window. + +“In short,” said he, “perhaps, Miss Woodhouse--I think you can hardly be +quite without suspicion”-- + +He looked at her, as if wanting to read her thoughts. She hardly knew +what to say. It seemed like the forerunner of something absolutely +serious, which she did not wish. Forcing herself to speak, therefore, in +the hope of putting it by, she calmly said, + +“You are quite in the right; it was most natural to pay your visit, +then”-- + +He was silent. She believed he was looking at her; probably reflecting +on what she had said, and trying to understand the manner. She heard +him sigh. It was natural for him to feel that he had _cause_ to sigh. +He could not believe her to be encouraging him. A few awkward moments +passed, and he sat down again; and in a more determined manner said, + +“It was something to feel that all the rest of my time might be given to +Hartfield. My regard for Hartfield is most warm”-- + +He stopt again, rose again, and seemed quite embarrassed.--He was more +in love with her than Emma had supposed; and who can say how it might +have ended, if his father had not made his appearance? Mr. Woodhouse +soon followed; and the necessity of exertion made him composed. + +A very few minutes more, however, completed the present trial. Mr. +Weston, always alert when business was to be done, and as incapable of +procrastinating any evil that was inevitable, as of foreseeing any that +was doubtful, said, “It was time to go;” and the young man, though he +might and did sigh, could not but agree, to take leave. + +“I shall hear about you all,” said he; “that is my chief consolation. +I shall hear of every thing that is going on among you. I have engaged +Mrs. Weston to correspond with me. She has been so kind as to promise +it. Oh! the blessing of a female correspondent, when one is really +interested in the absent!--she will tell me every thing. In her letters +I shall be at dear Highbury again.” + +A very friendly shake of the hand, a very earnest “Good-bye,” closed the +speech, and the door had soon shut out Frank Churchill. Short had been +the notice--short their meeting; he was gone; and Emma felt so sorry +to part, and foresaw so great a loss to their little society from his +absence as to begin to be afraid of being too sorry, and feeling it too +much. + +It was a sad change. They had been meeting almost every day since his +arrival. Certainly his being at Randalls had given great spirit to +the last two weeks--indescribable spirit; the idea, the expectation +of seeing him which every morning had brought, the assurance of his +attentions, his liveliness, his manners! It had been a very happy +fortnight, and forlorn must be the sinking from it into the common +course of Hartfield days. To complete every other recommendation, he had +_almost_ told her that he loved her. What strength, or what constancy of +affection he might be subject to, was another point; but at present +she could not doubt his having a decidedly warm admiration, a conscious +preference of herself; and this persuasion, joined to all the rest, +made her think that she _must_ be a little in love with him, in spite of +every previous determination against it. + +“I certainly must,” said she. “This sensation of listlessness, +weariness, stupidity, this disinclination to sit down and employ myself, +this feeling of every thing's being dull and insipid about the house!-- +I must be in love; I should be the oddest creature in the world if I +were not--for a few weeks at least. Well! evil to some is always good to +others. I shall have many fellow-mourners for the ball, if not for Frank +Churchill; but Mr. Knightley will be happy. He may spend the evening +with his dear William Larkins now if he likes.” + +Mr. Knightley, however, shewed no triumphant happiness. He could not say +that he was sorry on his own account; his very cheerful look would have +contradicted him if he had; but he said, and very steadily, that he +was sorry for the disappointment of the others, and with considerable +kindness added, + +“You, Emma, who have so few opportunities of dancing, you are really out +of luck; you are very much out of luck!” + +It was some days before she saw Jane Fairfax, to judge of her honest +regret in this woeful change; but when they did meet, her composure +was odious. She had been particularly unwell, however, suffering from +headache to a degree, which made her aunt declare, that had the ball +taken place, she did not think Jane could have attended it; and it was +charity to impute some of her unbecoming indifference to the languor of +ill-health. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Emma continued to entertain no doubt of her being in love. Her ideas +only varied as to the how much. At first, she thought it was a good +deal; and afterwards, but little. She had great pleasure in hearing +Frank Churchill talked of; and, for his sake, greater pleasure than ever +in seeing Mr. and Mrs. Weston; she was very often thinking of him, and +quite impatient for a letter, that she might know how he was, how were +his spirits, how was his aunt, and what was the chance of his coming to +Randalls again this spring. But, on the other hand, she could not admit +herself to be unhappy, nor, after the first morning, to be less disposed +for employment than usual; she was still busy and cheerful; and, +pleasing as he was, she could yet imagine him to have faults; and +farther, though thinking of him so much, and, as she sat drawing or +working, forming a thousand amusing schemes for the progress and close +of their attachment, fancying interesting dialogues, and inventing +elegant letters; the conclusion of every imaginary declaration on his +side was that she _refused_ _him_. Their affection was always to subside +into friendship. Every thing tender and charming was to mark their +parting; but still they were to part. When she became sensible of this, +it struck her that she could not be very much in love; for in spite of +her previous and fixed determination never to quit her father, never +to marry, a strong attachment certainly must produce more of a struggle +than she could foresee in her own feelings. + +“I do not find myself making any use of the word _sacrifice_,” said +she.--“In not one of all my clever replies, my delicate negatives, is +there any allusion to making a sacrifice. I do suspect that he is not +really necessary to my happiness. So much the better. I certainly will +not persuade myself to feel more than I do. I am quite enough in love. I +should be sorry to be more.” + +Upon the whole, she was equally contented with her view of his feelings. + +“_He_ is undoubtedly very much in love--every thing denotes it--very +much in love indeed!--and when he comes again, if his affection +continue, I must be on my guard not to encourage it.--It would be most +inexcusable to do otherwise, as my own mind is quite made up. Not that I +imagine he can think I have been encouraging him hitherto. No, if he +had believed me at all to share his feelings, he would not have been +so wretched. Could he have thought himself encouraged, his looks and +language at parting would have been different.--Still, however, I must +be on my guard. This is in the supposition of his attachment continuing +what it now is; but I do not know that I expect it will; I do not look +upon him to be quite the sort of man--I do not altogether build upon +his steadiness or constancy.--His feelings are warm, but I can imagine +them rather changeable.--Every consideration of the subject, in short, +makes me thankful that my happiness is not more deeply involved.--I +shall do very well again after a little while--and then, it will be a +good thing over; for they say every body is in love once in their lives, +and I shall have been let off easily.” + +When his letter to Mrs. Weston arrived, Emma had the perusal of it; and +she read it with a degree of pleasure and admiration which made her +at first shake her head over her own sensations, and think she had +undervalued their strength. It was a long, well-written letter, giving +the particulars of his journey and of his feelings, expressing all the +affection, gratitude, and respect which was natural and honourable, +and describing every thing exterior and local that could be supposed +attractive, with spirit and precision. No suspicious flourishes now of +apology or concern; it was the language of real feeling towards Mrs. +Weston; and the transition from Highbury to Enscombe, the contrast +between the places in some of the first blessings of social life was +just enough touched on to shew how keenly it was felt, and how much more +might have been said but for the restraints of propriety.--The charm +of her own name was not wanting. _Miss_ _Woodhouse_ appeared more than +once, and never without a something of pleasing connexion, either a +compliment to her taste, or a remembrance of what she had said; and in +the very last time of its meeting her eye, unadorned as it was by any +such broad wreath of gallantry, she yet could discern the effect of +her influence and acknowledge the greatest compliment perhaps of all +conveyed. Compressed into the very lowest vacant corner were these +words--“I had not a spare moment on Tuesday, as you know, for Miss +Woodhouse's beautiful little friend. Pray make my excuses and adieus +to her.” This, Emma could not doubt, was all for herself. Harriet was +remembered only from being _her_ friend. His information and prospects +as to Enscombe were neither worse nor better than had been anticipated; +Mrs. Churchill was recovering, and he dared not yet, even in his own +imagination, fix a time for coming to Randalls again. + +Gratifying, however, and stimulative as was the letter in the material +part, its sentiments, she yet found, when it was folded up and returned +to Mrs. Weston, that it had not added any lasting warmth, that she could +still do without the writer, and that he must learn to do without her. +Her intentions were unchanged. Her resolution of refusal only grew more +interesting by the addition of a scheme for his subsequent consolation +and happiness. His recollection of Harriet, and the words which +clothed it, the “beautiful little friend,” suggested to her the +idea of Harriet's succeeding her in his affections. Was it +impossible?--No.--Harriet undoubtedly was greatly his inferior in +understanding; but he had been very much struck with the loveliness +of her face and the warm simplicity of her manner; and all the +probabilities of circumstance and connexion were in her favour.--For +Harriet, it would be advantageous and delightful indeed. + +“I must not dwell upon it,” said she.--“I must not think of it. I know +the danger of indulging such speculations. But stranger things have +happened; and when we cease to care for each other as we do now, it +will be the means of confirming us in that sort of true disinterested +friendship which I can already look forward to with pleasure.” + +It was well to have a comfort in store on Harriet's behalf, though it +might be wise to let the fancy touch it seldom; for evil in that quarter +was at hand. As Frank Churchill's arrival had succeeded Mr. Elton's +engagement in the conversation of Highbury, as the latest interest +had entirely borne down the first, so now upon Frank Churchill's +disappearance, Mr. Elton's concerns were assuming the most irresistible +form.--His wedding-day was named. He would soon be among them again; Mr. +Elton and his bride. There was hardly time to talk over the first letter +from Enscombe before “Mr. Elton and his bride” was in every body's +mouth, and Frank Churchill was forgotten. Emma grew sick at the sound. +She had had three weeks of happy exemption from Mr. Elton; and Harriet's +mind, she had been willing to hope, had been lately gaining strength. +With Mr. Weston's ball in view at least, there had been a great deal of +insensibility to other things; but it was now too evident that she had +not attained such a state of composure as could stand against the actual +approach--new carriage, bell-ringing, and all. + +Poor Harriet was in a flutter of spirits which required all the +reasonings and soothings and attentions of every kind that Emma could +give. Emma felt that she could not do too much for her, that Harriet had +a right to all her ingenuity and all her patience; but it was heavy work +to be for ever convincing without producing any effect, for ever agreed +to, without being able to make their opinions the same. Harriet listened +submissively, and said “it was very true--it was just as Miss Woodhouse +described--it was not worth while to think about them--and she would not +think about them any longer” but no change of subject could avail, and +the next half-hour saw her as anxious and restless about the Eltons as +before. At last Emma attacked her on another ground. + +“Your allowing yourself to be so occupied and so unhappy about Mr. +Elton's marrying, Harriet, is the strongest reproach you can make _me_. +You could not give me a greater reproof for the mistake I fell into. +It was all my doing, I know. I have not forgotten it, I assure +you.--Deceived myself, I did very miserably deceive you--and it will +be a painful reflection to me for ever. Do not imagine me in danger of +forgetting it.” + +Harriet felt this too much to utter more than a few words of eager +exclamation. Emma continued, + +“I have not said, exert yourself Harriet for my sake; think less, talk +less of Mr. Elton for my sake; because for your own sake rather, I +would wish it to be done, for the sake of what is more important than my +comfort, a habit of self-command in you, a consideration of what is your +duty, an attention to propriety, an endeavour to avoid the suspicions of +others, to save your health and credit, and restore your tranquillity. +These are the motives which I have been pressing on you. They are very +important--and sorry I am that you cannot feel them sufficiently to act +upon them. My being saved from pain is a very secondary consideration. +I want you to save yourself from greater pain. Perhaps I may sometimes +have felt that Harriet would not forget what was due--or rather what +would be kind by me.” + +This appeal to her affections did more than all the rest. The idea of +wanting gratitude and consideration for Miss Woodhouse, whom she really +loved extremely, made her wretched for a while, and when the violence +of grief was comforted away, still remained powerful enough to prompt to +what was right and support her in it very tolerably. + +“You, who have been the best friend I ever had in my life--Want +gratitude to you!--Nobody is equal to you!--I care for nobody as I do +for you!--Oh! Miss Woodhouse, how ungrateful I have been!” + +Such expressions, assisted as they were by every thing that look and +manner could do, made Emma feel that she had never loved Harriet so +well, nor valued her affection so highly before. + +“There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart,” said she afterwards to +herself. “There is nothing to be compared to it. Warmth and tenderness +of heart, with an affectionate, open manner, will beat all the +clearness of head in the world, for attraction, I am sure it will. It +is tenderness of heart which makes my dear father so generally +beloved--which gives Isabella all her popularity.--I have it not--but +I know how to prize and respect it.--Harriet is my superior in all the +charm and all the felicity it gives. Dear Harriet!--I would not change +you for the clearest-headed, longest-sighted, best-judging female +breathing. Oh! the coldness of a Jane Fairfax!--Harriet is worth a +hundred such--And for a wife--a sensible man's wife--it is invaluable. I +mention no names; but happy the man who changes Emma for Harriet!” + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Mrs. Elton was first seen at church: but though devotion might be +interrupted, curiosity could not be satisfied by a bride in a pew, and +it must be left for the visits in form which were then to be paid, to +settle whether she were very pretty indeed, or only rather pretty, or +not pretty at all. + +Emma had feelings, less of curiosity than of pride or propriety, to make +her resolve on not being the last to pay her respects; and she made a +point of Harriet's going with her, that the worst of the business might +be gone through as soon as possible. + +She could not enter the house again, could not be in the same room to +which she had with such vain artifice retreated three months ago, to +lace up her boot, without _recollecting_. A thousand vexatious thoughts +would recur. Compliments, charades, and horrible blunders; and it was +not to be supposed that poor Harriet should not be recollecting too; but +she behaved very well, and was only rather pale and silent. The visit +was of course short; and there was so much embarrassment and occupation +of mind to shorten it, that Emma would not allow herself entirely to +form an opinion of the lady, and on no account to give one, beyond the +nothing-meaning terms of being “elegantly dressed, and very pleasing.” + +She did not really like her. She would not be in a hurry to find fault, +but she suspected that there was no elegance;--ease, but not elegance.-- +She was almost sure that for a young woman, a stranger, a bride, there +was too much ease. Her person was rather good; her face not unpretty; +but neither feature, nor air, nor voice, nor manner, were elegant. Emma +thought at least it would turn out so. + +As for Mr. Elton, his manners did not appear--but no, she would not +permit a hasty or a witty word from herself about his manners. It was an +awkward ceremony at any time to be receiving wedding visits, and a man +had need be all grace to acquit himself well through it. The woman +was better off; she might have the assistance of fine clothes, and the +privilege of bashfulness, but the man had only his own good sense to +depend on; and when she considered how peculiarly unlucky poor Mr. +Elton was in being in the same room at once with the woman he had just +married, the woman he had wanted to marry, and the woman whom he had +been expected to marry, she must allow him to have the right to look as +little wise, and to be as much affectedly, and as little really easy as +could be. + +“Well, Miss Woodhouse,” said Harriet, when they had quitted the +house, and after waiting in vain for her friend to begin; “Well, Miss +Woodhouse, (with a gentle sigh,) what do you think of her?--Is not she +very charming?” + +There was a little hesitation in Emma's answer. + +“Oh! yes--very--a very pleasing young woman.” + +“I think her beautiful, quite beautiful.” + +“Very nicely dressed, indeed; a remarkably elegant gown.” + +“I am not at all surprized that he should have fallen in love.” + +“Oh! no--there is nothing to surprize one at all.--A pretty fortune; and +she came in his way.” + +“I dare say,” returned Harriet, sighing again, “I dare say she was very +much attached to him.” + +“Perhaps she might; but it is not every man's fate to marry the woman +who loves him best. Miss Hawkins perhaps wanted a home, and thought this +the best offer she was likely to have.” + +“Yes,” said Harriet earnestly, “and well she might, nobody could ever +have a better. Well, I wish them happy with all my heart. And now, Miss +Woodhouse, I do not think I shall mind seeing them again. He is just as +superior as ever;--but being married, you know, it is quite a different +thing. No, indeed, Miss Woodhouse, you need not be afraid; I can sit and +admire him now without any great misery. To know that he has not thrown +himself away, is such a comfort!--She does seem a charming young woman, +just what he deserves. Happy creature! He called her 'Augusta.' How +delightful!” + +When the visit was returned, Emma made up her mind. She could then see +more and judge better. From Harriet's happening not to be at Hartfield, +and her father's being present to engage Mr. Elton, she had a quarter +of an hour of the lady's conversation to herself, and could composedly +attend to her; and the quarter of an hour quite convinced her that +Mrs. Elton was a vain woman, extremely well satisfied with herself, and +thinking much of her own importance; that she meant to shine and be very +superior, but with manners which had been formed in a bad school, pert +and familiar; that all her notions were drawn from one set of people, +and one style of living; that if not foolish she was ignorant, and that +her society would certainly do Mr. Elton no good. + +Harriet would have been a better match. If not wise or refined herself, +she would have connected him with those who were; but Miss Hawkins, it +might be fairly supposed from her easy conceit, had been the best of +her own set. The rich brother-in-law near Bristol was the pride of the +alliance, and his place and his carriages were the pride of him. + +The very first subject after being seated was Maple Grove, “My brother +Mr. Suckling's seat;”--a comparison of Hartfield to Maple Grove. The +grounds of Hartfield were small, but neat and pretty; and the house was +modern and well-built. Mrs. Elton seemed most favourably impressed +by the size of the room, the entrance, and all that she could see or +imagine. “Very like Maple Grove indeed!--She was quite struck by the +likeness!--That room was the very shape and size of the morning-room +at Maple Grove; her sister's favourite room.”--Mr. Elton was appealed +to.--“Was not it astonishingly like?--She could really almost fancy +herself at Maple Grove.” + +“And the staircase--You know, as I came in, I observed how very like the +staircase was; placed exactly in the same part of the house. I really +could not help exclaiming! I assure you, Miss Woodhouse, it is very +delightful to me, to be reminded of a place I am so extremely partial to +as Maple Grove. I have spent so many happy months there! (with a little +sigh of sentiment). A charming place, undoubtedly. Every body who +sees it is struck by its beauty; but to me, it has been quite a home. +Whenever you are transplanted, like me, Miss Woodhouse, you will +understand how very delightful it is to meet with any thing at all like +what one has left behind. I always say this is quite one of the evils of +matrimony.” + +Emma made as slight a reply as she could; but it was fully sufficient +for Mrs. Elton, who only wanted to be talking herself. + +“So extremely like Maple Grove! And it is not merely the house--the +grounds, I assure you, as far as I could observe, are strikingly like. +The laurels at Maple Grove are in the same profusion as here, and stand +very much in the same way--just across the lawn; and I had a glimpse +of a fine large tree, with a bench round it, which put me so exactly in +mind! My brother and sister will be enchanted with this place. People +who have extensive grounds themselves are always pleased with any thing +in the same style.” + +Emma doubted the truth of this sentiment. She had a great idea that +people who had extensive grounds themselves cared very little for the +extensive grounds of any body else; but it was not worth while to attack +an error so double-dyed, and therefore only said in reply, + +“When you have seen more of this country, I am afraid you will think you +have overrated Hartfield. Surry is full of beauties.” + +“Oh! yes, I am quite aware of that. It is the garden of England, you +know. Surry is the garden of England.” + +“Yes; but we must not rest our claims on that distinction. Many +counties, I believe, are called the garden of England, as well as +Surry.” + +“No, I fancy not,” replied Mrs. Elton, with a most satisfied smile. +“I never heard any county but Surry called so.” + +Emma was silenced. + +“My brother and sister have promised us a visit in the spring, or summer +at farthest,” continued Mrs. Elton; “and that will be our time for +exploring. While they are with us, we shall explore a great deal, I dare +say. They will have their barouche-landau, of course, which holds four +perfectly; and therefore, without saying any thing of _our_ carriage, +we should be able to explore the different beauties extremely well. They +would hardly come in their chaise, I think, at that season of the +year. Indeed, when the time draws on, I shall decidedly recommend their +bringing the barouche-landau; it will be so very much preferable. +When people come into a beautiful country of this sort, you know, Miss +Woodhouse, one naturally wishes them to see as much as possible; and Mr. +Suckling is extremely fond of exploring. We explored to King's-Weston +twice last summer, in that way, most delightfully, just after their +first having the barouche-landau. You have many parties of that kind +here, I suppose, Miss Woodhouse, every summer?” + +“No; not immediately here. We are rather out of distance of the very +striking beauties which attract the sort of parties you speak of; and we +are a very quiet set of people, I believe; more disposed to stay at home +than engage in schemes of pleasure.” + +“Ah! there is nothing like staying at home for real comfort. Nobody can +be more devoted to home than I am. I was quite a proverb for it at Maple +Grove. Many a time has Selina said, when she has been going to Bristol, +'I really cannot get this girl to move from the house. I absolutely must +go in by myself, though I hate being stuck up in the barouche-landau +without a companion; but Augusta, I believe, with her own good-will, +would never stir beyond the park paling.' Many a time has she said so; +and yet I am no advocate for entire seclusion. I think, on the contrary, +when people shut themselves up entirely from society, it is a very +bad thing; and that it is much more advisable to mix in the world in +a proper degree, without living in it either too much or too little. I +perfectly understand your situation, however, Miss Woodhouse--(looking +towards Mr. Woodhouse), Your father's state of health must be a great +drawback. Why does not he try Bath?--Indeed he should. Let me recommend +Bath to you. I assure you I have no doubt of its doing Mr. Woodhouse +good.” + +“My father tried it more than once, formerly; but without receiving any +benefit; and Mr. Perry, whose name, I dare say, is not unknown to you, +does not conceive it would be at all more likely to be useful now.” + +“Ah! that's a great pity; for I assure you, Miss Woodhouse, where the +waters do agree, it is quite wonderful the relief they give. In my Bath +life, I have seen such instances of it! And it is so cheerful a place, +that it could not fail of being of use to Mr. Woodhouse's spirits, +which, I understand, are sometimes much depressed. And as to its +recommendations to _you_, I fancy I need not take much pains to dwell +on them. The advantages of Bath to the young are pretty generally +understood. It would be a charming introduction for you, who have lived +so secluded a life; and I could immediately secure you some of the best +society in the place. A line from me would bring you a little host of +acquaintance; and my particular friend, Mrs. Partridge, the lady I have +always resided with when in Bath, would be most happy to shew you any +attentions, and would be the very person for you to go into public +with.” + +It was as much as Emma could bear, without being impolite. The idea +of her being indebted to Mrs. Elton for what was called an +_introduction_--of her going into public under the auspices of a friend +of Mrs. Elton's--probably some vulgar, dashing widow, who, with the +help of a boarder, just made a shift to live!--The dignity of Miss +Woodhouse, of Hartfield, was sunk indeed! + +She restrained herself, however, from any of the reproofs she could have +given, and only thanked Mrs. Elton coolly; “but their going to Bath was +quite out of the question; and she was not perfectly convinced that +the place might suit her better than her father.” And then, to prevent +farther outrage and indignation, changed the subject directly. + +“I do not ask whether you are musical, Mrs. Elton. Upon these occasions, +a lady's character generally precedes her; and Highbury has long known +that you are a superior performer.” + +“Oh! no, indeed; I must protest against any such idea. A superior +performer!--very far from it, I assure you. Consider from how partial +a quarter your information came. I am doatingly fond of +music--passionately fond;--and my friends say I am not entirely devoid +of taste; but as to any thing else, upon my honour my performance is +_mediocre_ to the last degree. You, Miss Woodhouse, I well know, play +delightfully. I assure you it has been the greatest satisfaction, +comfort, and delight to me, to hear what a musical society I am got +into. I absolutely cannot do without music. It is a necessary of life to +me; and having always been used to a very musical society, both at +Maple Grove and in Bath, it would have been a most serious sacrifice. I +honestly said as much to Mr. E. when he was speaking of my future +home, and expressing his fears lest the retirement of it should be +disagreeable; and the inferiority of the house too--knowing what I had +been accustomed to--of course he was not wholly without apprehension. +When he was speaking of it in that way, I honestly said that _the_ +_world_ I could give up--parties, balls, plays--for I had no fear of +retirement. Blessed with so many resources within myself, the world was +not necessary to _me_. I could do very well without it. To those who had +no resources it was a different thing; but my resources made me quite +independent. And as to smaller-sized rooms than I had been used to, I +really could not give it a thought. I hoped I was perfectly equal to any +sacrifice of that description. Certainly I had been accustomed to every +luxury at Maple Grove; but I did assure him that two carriages were not +necessary to my happiness, nor were spacious apartments. 'But,' said I, +'to be quite honest, I do not think I can live without something of a +musical society. I condition for nothing else; but without music, life +would be a blank to me.'” + +“We cannot suppose,” said Emma, smiling, “that Mr. Elton would hesitate +to assure you of there being a _very_ musical society in Highbury; and +I hope you will not find he has outstepped the truth more than may be +pardoned, in consideration of the motive.” + +“No, indeed, I have no doubts at all on that head. I am delighted to +find myself in such a circle. I hope we shall have many sweet little +concerts together. I think, Miss Woodhouse, you and I must establish a +musical club, and have regular weekly meetings at your house, or ours. +Will not it be a good plan? If _we_ exert ourselves, I think we shall +not be long in want of allies. Something of that nature would be +particularly desirable for _me_, as an inducement to keep me in +practice; for married women, you know--there is a sad story against +them, in general. They are but too apt to give up music.” + +“But you, who are so extremely fond of it--there can be no danger, +surely?” + +“I should hope not; but really when I look around among my acquaintance, +I tremble. Selina has entirely given up music--never touches the +instrument--though she played sweetly. And the same may be said of Mrs. +Jeffereys--Clara Partridge, that was--and of the two Milmans, now Mrs. +Bird and Mrs. James Cooper; and of more than I can enumerate. Upon my +word it is enough to put one in a fright. I used to be quite angry with +Selina; but really I begin now to comprehend that a married woman has +many things to call her attention. I believe I was half an hour this +morning shut up with my housekeeper.” + +“But every thing of that kind,” said Emma, “will soon be in so regular a +train--” + +“Well,” said Mrs. Elton, laughing, “we shall see.” + +Emma, finding her so determined upon neglecting her music, had nothing +more to say; and, after a moment's pause, Mrs. Elton chose another +subject. + +“We have been calling at Randalls,” said she, “and found them both at +home; and very pleasant people they seem to be. I like them extremely. +Mr. Weston seems an excellent creature--quite a first-rate favourite +with me already, I assure you. And _she_ appears so truly good--there is +something so motherly and kind-hearted about her, that it wins upon one +directly. She was your governess, I think?” + +Emma was almost too much astonished to answer; but Mrs. Elton hardly +waited for the affirmative before she went on. + +“Having understood as much, I was rather astonished to find her so very +lady-like! But she is really quite the gentlewoman.” + +“Mrs. Weston's manners,” said Emma, “were always particularly good. +Their propriety, simplicity, and elegance, would make them the safest +model for any young woman.” + +“And who do you think came in while we were there?” + +Emma was quite at a loss. The tone implied some old acquaintance--and +how could she possibly guess? + +“Knightley!” continued Mrs. Elton; “Knightley himself!--Was not it +lucky?--for, not being within when he called the other day, I had never +seen him before; and of course, as so particular a friend of Mr. E.'s, +I had a great curiosity. 'My friend Knightley' had been so often +mentioned, that I was really impatient to see him; and I must do my +caro sposo the justice to say that he need not be ashamed of his friend. +Knightley is quite the gentleman. I like him very much. Decidedly, I +think, a very gentleman-like man.” + +Happily, it was now time to be gone. They were off; and Emma could +breathe. + +“Insufferable woman!” was her immediate exclamation. “Worse than I had +supposed. Absolutely insufferable! Knightley!--I could not have +believed it. Knightley!--never seen him in her life before, and call +him Knightley!--and discover that he is a gentleman! A little upstart, +vulgar being, with her Mr. E., and her _caro_ _sposo_, and her +resources, and all her airs of pert pretension and underbred finery. +Actually to discover that Mr. Knightley is a gentleman! I doubt whether +he will return the compliment, and discover her to be a lady. I could +not have believed it! And to propose that she and I should unite to +form a musical club! One would fancy we were bosom friends! And Mrs. +Weston!--Astonished that the person who had brought me up should be a +gentlewoman! Worse and worse. I never met with her equal. Much beyond +my hopes. Harriet is disgraced by any comparison. Oh! what would Frank +Churchill say to her, if he were here? How angry and how diverted he +would be! Ah! there I am--thinking of him directly. Always the first +person to be thought of! How I catch myself out! Frank Churchill comes +as regularly into my mind!”-- + +All this ran so glibly through her thoughts, that by the time her father +had arranged himself, after the bustle of the Eltons' departure, and was +ready to speak, she was very tolerably capable of attending. + +“Well, my dear,” he deliberately began, “considering we never saw her +before, she seems a very pretty sort of young lady; and I dare say she +was very much pleased with you. She speaks a little too quick. A little +quickness of voice there is which rather hurts the ear. But I believe +I am nice; I do not like strange voices; and nobody speaks like you and +poor Miss Taylor. However, she seems a very obliging, pretty-behaved +young lady, and no doubt will make him a very good wife. Though I think +he had better not have married. I made the best excuses I could for not +having been able to wait on him and Mrs. Elton on this happy occasion; I +said that I hoped I _should_ in the course of the summer. But I ought to +have gone before. Not to wait upon a bride is very remiss. Ah! it shews +what a sad invalid I am! But I do not like the corner into Vicarage +Lane.” + +“I dare say your apologies were accepted, sir. Mr. Elton knows you.” + +“Yes: but a young lady--a bride--I ought to have paid my respects to her +if possible. It was being very deficient.” + +“But, my dear papa, you are no friend to matrimony; and therefore why +should you be so anxious to pay your respects to a _bride_? It ought to +be no recommendation to _you_. It is encouraging people to marry if you +make so much of them.” + +“No, my dear, I never encouraged any body to marry, but I would always +wish to pay every proper attention to a lady--and a bride, especially, +is never to be neglected. More is avowedly due to _her_. A bride, you +know, my dear, is always the first in company, let the others be who +they may.” + +“Well, papa, if this is not encouragement to marry, I do not know what +is. And I should never have expected you to be lending your sanction to +such vanity-baits for poor young ladies.” + +“My dear, you do not understand me. This is a matter of mere +common politeness and good-breeding, and has nothing to do with any +encouragement to people to marry.” + +Emma had done. Her father was growing nervous, and could not understand +_her_. Her mind returned to Mrs. Elton's offences, and long, very long, +did they occupy her. + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Emma was not required, by any subsequent discovery, to retract her ill +opinion of Mrs. Elton. Her observation had been pretty correct. Such as +Mrs. Elton appeared to her on this second interview, such she appeared +whenever they met again,--self-important, presuming, familiar, ignorant, +and ill-bred. She had a little beauty and a little accomplishment, +but so little judgment that she thought herself coming with superior +knowledge of the world, to enliven and improve a country neighbourhood; +and conceived Miss Hawkins to have held such a place in society as Mrs. +Elton's consequence only could surpass. + +There was no reason to suppose Mr. Elton thought at all differently from +his wife. He seemed not merely happy with her, but proud. He had the air +of congratulating himself on having brought such a woman to Highbury, +as not even Miss Woodhouse could equal; and the greater part of her +new acquaintance, disposed to commend, or not in the habit of judging, +following the lead of Miss Bates's good-will, or taking it for granted +that the bride must be as clever and as agreeable as she professed +herself, were very well satisfied; so that Mrs. Elton's praise +passed from one mouth to another as it ought to do, unimpeded by Miss +Woodhouse, who readily continued her first contribution and talked with +a good grace of her being “very pleasant and very elegantly dressed.” + +In one respect Mrs. Elton grew even worse than she had appeared at +first. Her feelings altered towards Emma.--Offended, probably, by the +little encouragement which her proposals of intimacy met with, she drew +back in her turn and gradually became much more cold and distant; and +though the effect was agreeable, the ill-will which produced it was +necessarily increasing Emma's dislike. Her manners, too--and Mr. +Elton's, were unpleasant towards Harriet. They were sneering and +negligent. Emma hoped it must rapidly work Harriet's cure; but the +sensations which could prompt such behaviour sunk them both very +much.--It was not to be doubted that poor Harriet's attachment had been +an offering to conjugal unreserve, and her own share in the story, under +a colouring the least favourable to her and the most soothing to him, +had in all likelihood been given also. She was, of course, the object +of their joint dislike.--When they had nothing else to say, it must be +always easy to begin abusing Miss Woodhouse; and the enmity which +they dared not shew in open disrespect to her, found a broader vent in +contemptuous treatment of Harriet. + +Mrs. Elton took a great fancy to Jane Fairfax; and from the first. Not +merely when a state of warfare with one young lady might be supposed to +recommend the other, but from the very first; and she was not satisfied +with expressing a natural and reasonable admiration--but without +solicitation, or plea, or privilege, she must be wanting to assist and +befriend her.--Before Emma had forfeited her confidence, and about the +third time of their meeting, she heard all Mrs. Elton's knight-errantry +on the subject.-- + +“Jane Fairfax is absolutely charming, Miss Woodhouse.--I quite rave +about Jane Fairfax.--A sweet, interesting creature. So mild and +ladylike--and with such talents!--I assure you I think she has very +extraordinary talents. I do not scruple to say that she plays extremely +well. I know enough of music to speak decidedly on that point. Oh! she +is absolutely charming! You will laugh at my warmth--but, upon my word, +I talk of nothing but Jane Fairfax.--And her situation is so calculated +to affect one!--Miss Woodhouse, we must exert ourselves and endeavour +to do something for her. We must bring her forward. Such talent as hers +must not be suffered to remain unknown.--I dare say you have heard those +charming lines of the poet, + + 'Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, + 'And waste its fragrance on the desert air.' + +We must not allow them to be verified in sweet Jane Fairfax.” + +“I cannot think there is any danger of it,” was Emma's calm answer--“and +when you are better acquainted with Miss Fairfax's situation and +understand what her home has been, with Colonel and Mrs. Campbell, I +have no idea that you will suppose her talents can be unknown.” + +“Oh! but dear Miss Woodhouse, she is now in such retirement, such +obscurity, so thrown away.--Whatever advantages she may have enjoyed +with the Campbells are so palpably at an end! And I think she feels it. +I am sure she does. She is very timid and silent. One can see that she +feels the want of encouragement. I like her the better for it. I +must confess it is a recommendation to me. I am a great advocate for +timidity--and I am sure one does not often meet with it.--But in those +who are at all inferior, it is extremely prepossessing. Oh! I assure +you, Jane Fairfax is a very delightful character, and interests me more +than I can express.” + +“You appear to feel a great deal--but I am not aware how you or any of +Miss Fairfax's acquaintance here, any of those who have known her longer +than yourself, can shew her any other attention than”-- + +“My dear Miss Woodhouse, a vast deal may be done by those who dare to +act. You and I need not be afraid. If _we_ set the example, many will +follow it as far as they can; though all have not our situations. _We_ +have carriages to fetch and convey her home, and _we_ live in a style +which could not make the addition of Jane Fairfax, at any time, the +least inconvenient.--I should be extremely displeased if Wright were to +send us up such a dinner, as could make me regret having asked _more_ +than Jane Fairfax to partake of it. I have no idea of that sort of +thing. It is not likely that I _should_, considering what I have been +used to. My greatest danger, perhaps, in housekeeping, may be quite the +other way, in doing too much, and being too careless of expense. Maple +Grove will probably be my model more than it ought to be--for we do not +at all affect to equal my brother, Mr. Suckling, in income.--However, my +resolution is taken as to noticing Jane Fairfax.--I shall certainly have +her very often at my house, shall introduce her wherever I can, shall +have musical parties to draw out her talents, and shall be constantly +on the watch for an eligible situation. My acquaintance is so very +extensive, that I have little doubt of hearing of something to suit +her shortly.--I shall introduce her, of course, very particularly to my +brother and sister when they come to us. I am sure they will like her +extremely; and when she gets a little acquainted with them, her fears +will completely wear off, for there really is nothing in the manners +of either but what is highly conciliating.--I shall have her very often +indeed while they are with me, and I dare say we shall sometimes find a +seat for her in the barouche-landau in some of our exploring parties.” + +“Poor Jane Fairfax!”--thought Emma.--“You have not deserved this. You +may have done wrong with regard to Mr. Dixon, but this is a punishment +beyond what you can have merited!--The kindness and protection of Mrs. +Elton!--'Jane Fairfax and Jane Fairfax.' Heavens! Let me not suppose +that she dares go about, Emma Woodhouse-ing me!--But upon my honour, +there seems no limits to the licentiousness of that woman's tongue!” + +Emma had not to listen to such paradings again--to any so exclusively +addressed to herself--so disgustingly decorated with a “dear Miss +Woodhouse.” The change on Mrs. Elton's side soon afterwards appeared, +and she was left in peace--neither forced to be the very particular +friend of Mrs. Elton, nor, under Mrs. Elton's guidance, the very active +patroness of Jane Fairfax, and only sharing with others in a general +way, in knowing what was felt, what was meditated, what was done. + +She looked on with some amusement.--Miss Bates's gratitude for +Mrs. Elton's attentions to Jane was in the first style of guileless +simplicity and warmth. She was quite one of her worthies--the +most amiable, affable, delightful woman--just as accomplished and +condescending as Mrs. Elton meant to be considered. Emma's only surprize +was that Jane Fairfax should accept those attentions and tolerate Mrs. +Elton as she seemed to do. She heard of her walking with the Eltons, +sitting with the Eltons, spending a day with the Eltons! This was +astonishing!--She could not have believed it possible that the taste or +the pride of Miss Fairfax could endure such society and friendship as +the Vicarage had to offer. + +“She is a riddle, quite a riddle!” said she.--“To chuse to remain here +month after month, under privations of every sort! And now to chuse the +mortification of Mrs. Elton's notice and the penury of her conversation, +rather than return to the superior companions who have always loved her +with such real, generous affection.” + +Jane had come to Highbury professedly for three months; the Campbells +were gone to Ireland for three months; but now the Campbells had +promised their daughter to stay at least till Midsummer, and fresh +invitations had arrived for her to join them there. According to Miss +Bates--it all came from her--Mrs. Dixon had written most pressingly. +Would Jane but go, means were to be found, servants sent, friends +contrived--no travelling difficulty allowed to exist; but still she had +declined it! + +“She must have some motive, more powerful than appears, for refusing +this invitation,” was Emma's conclusion. “She must be under some sort +of penance, inflicted either by the Campbells or herself. There is great +fear, great caution, great resolution somewhere.--She is _not_ to be +with the _Dixons_. The decree is issued by somebody. But why must she +consent to be with the Eltons?--Here is quite a separate puzzle.” + +Upon her speaking her wonder aloud on that part of the subject, before +the few who knew her opinion of Mrs. Elton, Mrs. Weston ventured this +apology for Jane. + +“We cannot suppose that she has any great enjoyment at the Vicarage, +my dear Emma--but it is better than being always at home. Her aunt is a +good creature, but, as a constant companion, must be very tiresome. We +must consider what Miss Fairfax quits, before we condemn her taste for +what she goes to.” + +“You are right, Mrs. Weston,” said Mr. Knightley warmly, “Miss Fairfax +is as capable as any of us of forming a just opinion of Mrs. Elton. +Could she have chosen with whom to associate, she would not have chosen +her. But (with a reproachful smile at Emma) she receives attentions from +Mrs. Elton, which nobody else pays her.” + +Emma felt that Mrs. Weston was giving her a momentary glance; and she +was herself struck by his warmth. With a faint blush, she presently +replied, + +“Such attentions as Mrs. Elton's, I should have imagined, would rather +disgust than gratify Miss Fairfax. Mrs. Elton's invitations I should +have imagined any thing but inviting.” + +“I should not wonder,” said Mrs. Weston, “if Miss Fairfax were to have +been drawn on beyond her own inclination, by her aunt's eagerness in +accepting Mrs. Elton's civilities for her. Poor Miss Bates may +very likely have committed her niece and hurried her into a greater +appearance of intimacy than her own good sense would have dictated, in +spite of the very natural wish of a little change.” + +Both felt rather anxious to hear him speak again; and after a few +minutes silence, he said, + +“Another thing must be taken into consideration too--Mrs. Elton does +not talk _to_ Miss Fairfax as she speaks _of_ her. We all know the +difference between the pronouns he or she and thou, the plainest spoken +amongst us; we all feel the influence of a something beyond common +civility in our personal intercourse with each other--a something more +early implanted. We cannot give any body the disagreeable hints that we +may have been very full of the hour before. We feel things differently. +And besides the operation of this, as a general principle, you may be +sure that Miss Fairfax awes Mrs. Elton by her superiority both of mind +and manner; and that, face to face, Mrs. Elton treats her with all the +respect which she has a claim to. Such a woman as Jane Fairfax probably +never fell in Mrs. Elton's way before--and no degree of vanity can +prevent her acknowledging her own comparative littleness in action, if +not in consciousness.” + +“I know how highly you think of Jane Fairfax,” said Emma. Little Henry +was in her thoughts, and a mixture of alarm and delicacy made her +irresolute what else to say. + +“Yes,” he replied, “any body may know how highly I think of her.” + +“And yet,” said Emma, beginning hastily and with an arch look, but soon +stopping--it was better, however, to know the worst at once--she hurried +on--“And yet, perhaps, you may hardly be aware yourself how highly it +is. The extent of your admiration may take you by surprize some day or +other.” + +Mr. Knightley was hard at work upon the lower buttons of his thick +leather gaiters, and either the exertion of getting them together, or +some other cause, brought the colour into his face, as he answered, + +“Oh! are you there?--But you are miserably behindhand. Mr. Cole gave me +a hint of it six weeks ago.” + +He stopped.--Emma felt her foot pressed by Mrs. Weston, and did not +herself know what to think. In a moment he went on-- + +“That will never be, however, I can assure you. Miss Fairfax, I dare +say, would not have me if I were to ask her--and I am very sure I shall +never ask her.” + +Emma returned her friend's pressure with interest; and was pleased +enough to exclaim, + +“You are not vain, Mr. Knightley. I will say that for you.” + +He seemed hardly to hear her; he was thoughtful--and in a manner which +shewed him not pleased, soon afterwards said, + +“So you have been settling that I should marry Jane Fairfax?” + +“No indeed I have not. You have scolded me too much for match-making, +for me to presume to take such a liberty with you. What I said just now, +meant nothing. One says those sort of things, of course, without any +idea of a serious meaning. Oh! no, upon my word I have not the smallest +wish for your marrying Jane Fairfax or Jane any body. You would not come +in and sit with us in this comfortable way, if you were married.” + +Mr. Knightley was thoughtful again. The result of his reverie was, “No, +Emma, I do not think the extent of my admiration for her will ever take +me by surprize.--I never had a thought of her in that way, I assure +you.” And soon afterwards, “Jane Fairfax is a very charming young +woman--but not even Jane Fairfax is perfect. She has a fault. She has +not the open temper which a man would wish for in a wife.” + +Emma could not but rejoice to hear that she had a fault. “Well,” said +she, “and you soon silenced Mr. Cole, I suppose?” + +“Yes, very soon. He gave me a quiet hint; I told him he was mistaken; +he asked my pardon and said no more. Cole does not want to be wiser or +wittier than his neighbours.” + +“In that respect how unlike dear Mrs. Elton, who wants to be wiser and +wittier than all the world! I wonder how she speaks of the Coles--what +she calls them! How can she find any appellation for them, deep enough +in familiar vulgarity? She calls you, Knightley--what can she do for +Mr. Cole? And so I am not to be surprized that Jane Fairfax accepts +her civilities and consents to be with her. Mrs. Weston, your argument +weighs most with me. I can much more readily enter into the temptation +of getting away from Miss Bates, than I can believe in the triumph of +Miss Fairfax's mind over Mrs. Elton. I have no faith in Mrs. Elton's +acknowledging herself the inferior in thought, word, or deed; or in her +being under any restraint beyond her own scanty rule of good-breeding. +I cannot imagine that she will not be continually insulting her visitor +with praise, encouragement, and offers of service; that she will not be +continually detailing her magnificent intentions, from the procuring her +a permanent situation to the including her in those delightful exploring +parties which are to take place in the barouche-landau.” + +“Jane Fairfax has feeling,” said Mr. Knightley--“I do not accuse her +of want of feeling. Her sensibilities, I suspect, are strong--and her +temper excellent in its power of forbearance, patience, self-control; +but it wants openness. She is reserved, more reserved, I think, than +she used to be--And I love an open temper. No--till Cole alluded to my +supposed attachment, it had never entered my head. I saw Jane Fairfax +and conversed with her, with admiration and pleasure always--but with no +thought beyond.” + +“Well, Mrs. Weston,” said Emma triumphantly when he left them, “what do +you say now to Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax?” + +“Why, really, dear Emma, I say that he is so very much occupied by the +idea of _not_ being in love with her, that I should not wonder if it +were to end in his being so at last. Do not beat me.” + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Every body in and about Highbury who had ever visited Mr. Elton, was +disposed to pay him attention on his marriage. Dinner-parties and +evening-parties were made for him and his lady; and invitations flowed +in so fast that she had soon the pleasure of apprehending they were +never to have a disengaged day. + +“I see how it is,” said she. “I see what a life I am to lead among you. +Upon my word we shall be absolutely dissipated. We really seem quite +the fashion. If this is living in the country, it is nothing very +formidable. From Monday next to Saturday, I assure you we have not a +disengaged day!--A woman with fewer resources than I have, need not have +been at a loss.” + +No invitation came amiss to her. Her Bath habits made evening-parties +perfectly natural to her, and Maple Grove had given her a taste for +dinners. She was a little shocked at the want of two drawing rooms, at +the poor attempt at rout-cakes, and there being no ice in the Highbury +card-parties. Mrs. Bates, Mrs. Perry, Mrs. Goddard and others, were a +good deal behind-hand in knowledge of the world, but she would soon shew +them how every thing ought to be arranged. In the course of the spring +she must return their civilities by one very superior party--in which +her card-tables should be set out with their separate candles and +unbroken packs in the true style--and more waiters engaged for the +evening than their own establishment could furnish, to carry round the +refreshments at exactly the proper hour, and in the proper order. + +Emma, in the meanwhile, could not be satisfied without a dinner at +Hartfield for the Eltons. They must not do less than others, or she +should be exposed to odious suspicions, and imagined capable of pitiful +resentment. A dinner there must be. After Emma had talked about it for +ten minutes, Mr. Woodhouse felt no unwillingness, and only made the +usual stipulation of not sitting at the bottom of the table himself, +with the usual regular difficulty of deciding who should do it for him. + +The persons to be invited, required little thought. Besides the +Eltons, it must be the Westons and Mr. Knightley; so far it was all of +course--and it was hardly less inevitable that poor little Harriet must +be asked to make the eighth:--but this invitation was not given with +equal satisfaction, and on many accounts Emma was particularly pleased +by Harriet's begging to be allowed to decline it. “She would rather not +be in his company more than she could help. She was not yet quite +able to see him and his charming happy wife together, without feeling +uncomfortable. If Miss Woodhouse would not be displeased, she would +rather stay at home.” It was precisely what Emma would have wished, had +she deemed it possible enough for wishing. She was delighted with the +fortitude of her little friend--for fortitude she knew it was in her to +give up being in company and stay at home; and she could now invite the +very person whom she really wanted to make the eighth, Jane Fairfax.-- +Since her last conversation with Mrs. Weston and Mr. Knightley, she +was more conscience-stricken about Jane Fairfax than she had often +been.--Mr. Knightley's words dwelt with her. He had said that Jane +Fairfax received attentions from Mrs. Elton which nobody else paid her. + +“This is very true,” said she, “at least as far as relates to me, which +was all that was meant--and it is very shameful.--Of the same age--and +always knowing her--I ought to have been more her friend.--She will +never like me now. I have neglected her too long. But I will shew her +greater attention than I have done.” + +Every invitation was successful. They were all disengaged and all +happy.--The preparatory interest of this dinner, however, was not yet +over. A circumstance rather unlucky occurred. The two eldest little +Knightleys were engaged to pay their grandpapa and aunt a visit of some +weeks in the spring, and their papa now proposed bringing them, and +staying one whole day at Hartfield--which one day would be the very day +of this party.--His professional engagements did not allow of his being +put off, but both father and daughter were disturbed by its happening +so. Mr. Woodhouse considered eight persons at dinner together as the +utmost that his nerves could bear--and here would be a ninth--and Emma +apprehended that it would be a ninth very much out of humour at not +being able to come even to Hartfield for forty-eight hours without +falling in with a dinner-party. + +She comforted her father better than she could comfort herself, by +representing that though he certainly would make them nine, yet +he always said so little, that the increase of noise would be very +immaterial. She thought it in reality a sad exchange for herself, to +have him with his grave looks and reluctant conversation opposed to her +instead of his brother. + +The event was more favourable to Mr. Woodhouse than to Emma. John +Knightley came; but Mr. Weston was unexpectedly summoned to town and +must be absent on the very day. He might be able to join them in the +evening, but certainly not to dinner. Mr. Woodhouse was quite at ease; +and the seeing him so, with the arrival of the little boys and the +philosophic composure of her brother on hearing his fate, removed the +chief of even Emma's vexation. + +The day came, the party were punctually assembled, and Mr. John +Knightley seemed early to devote himself to the business of being +agreeable. Instead of drawing his brother off to a window while they +waited for dinner, he was talking to Miss Fairfax. Mrs. Elton, +as elegant as lace and pearls could make her, he looked at in +silence--wanting only to observe enough for Isabella's information--but +Miss Fairfax was an old acquaintance and a quiet girl, and he could talk +to her. He had met her before breakfast as he was returning from a walk +with his little boys, when it had been just beginning to rain. It was +natural to have some civil hopes on the subject, and he said, + +“I hope you did not venture far, Miss Fairfax, this morning, or I am +sure you must have been wet.--We scarcely got home in time. I hope you +turned directly.” + +“I went only to the post-office,” said she, “and reached home before the +rain was much. It is my daily errand. I always fetch the letters when +I am here. It saves trouble, and is a something to get me out. A walk +before breakfast does me good.” + +“Not a walk in the rain, I should imagine.” + +“No, but it did not absolutely rain when I set out.” + +Mr. John Knightley smiled, and replied, + +“That is to say, you chose to have your walk, for you were not six yards +from your own door when I had the pleasure of meeting you; and Henry +and John had seen more drops than they could count long before. The +post-office has a great charm at one period of our lives. When you have +lived to my age, you will begin to think letters are never worth going +through the rain for.” + +There was a little blush, and then this answer, + +“I must not hope to be ever situated as you are, in the midst of every +dearest connexion, and therefore I cannot expect that simply growing +older should make me indifferent about letters.” + +“Indifferent! Oh! no--I never conceived you could become indifferent. +Letters are no matter of indifference; they are generally a very +positive curse.” + +“You are speaking of letters of business; mine are letters of +friendship.” + +“I have often thought them the worst of the two,” replied he coolly. +“Business, you know, may bring money, but friendship hardly ever does.” + +“Ah! you are not serious now. I know Mr. John Knightley too well--I am +very sure he understands the value of friendship as well as any body. I +can easily believe that letters are very little to you, much less than +to me, but it is not your being ten years older than myself which +makes the difference, it is not age, but situation. You have every +body dearest to you always at hand, I, probably, never shall again; +and therefore till I have outlived all my affections, a post-office, +I think, must always have power to draw me out, in worse weather than +to-day.” + +“When I talked of your being altered by time, by the progress of years,” + said John Knightley, “I meant to imply the change of situation which +time usually brings. I consider one as including the other. Time will +generally lessen the interest of every attachment not within the daily +circle--but that is not the change I had in view for you. As an old +friend, you will allow me to hope, Miss Fairfax, that ten years hence +you may have as many concentrated objects as I have.” + +It was kindly said, and very far from giving offence. A pleasant “thank +you” seemed meant to laugh it off, but a blush, a quivering lip, a tear +in the eye, shewed that it was felt beyond a laugh. Her attention was +now claimed by Mr. Woodhouse, who being, according to his custom on such +occasions, making the circle of his guests, and paying his particular +compliments to the ladies, was ending with her--and with all his mildest +urbanity, said, + +“I am very sorry to hear, Miss Fairfax, of your being out this morning +in the rain. Young ladies should take care of themselves.--Young ladies +are delicate plants. They should take care of their health and their +complexion. My dear, did you change your stockings?” + +“Yes, sir, I did indeed; and I am very much obliged by your kind +solicitude about me.” + +“My dear Miss Fairfax, young ladies are very sure to be cared for.--I +hope your good grand-mama and aunt are well. They are some of my very +old friends. I wish my health allowed me to be a better neighbour. You +do us a great deal of honour to-day, I am sure. My daughter and I +are both highly sensible of your goodness, and have the greatest +satisfaction in seeing you at Hartfield.” + +The kind-hearted, polite old man might then sit down and feel that he +had done his duty, and made every fair lady welcome and easy. + +By this time, the walk in the rain had reached Mrs. Elton, and her +remonstrances now opened upon Jane. + +“My dear Jane, what is this I hear?--Going to the post-office in the +rain!--This must not be, I assure you.--You sad girl, how could you do +such a thing?--It is a sign I was not there to take care of you.” + +Jane very patiently assured her that she had not caught any cold. + +“Oh! do not tell _me_. You really are a very sad girl, and do not know +how to take care of yourself.--To the post-office indeed! Mrs. Weston, +did you ever hear the like? You and I must positively exert our +authority.” + +“My advice,” said Mrs. Weston kindly and persuasively, “I certainly do +feel tempted to give. Miss Fairfax, you must not run such risks.--Liable +as you have been to severe colds, indeed you ought to be particularly +careful, especially at this time of year. The spring I always think +requires more than common care. Better wait an hour or two, or even +half a day for your letters, than run the risk of bringing on your cough +again. Now do not you feel that you had? Yes, I am sure you are much too +reasonable. You look as if you would not do such a thing again.” + +“Oh! she _shall_ _not_ do such a thing again,” eagerly rejoined Mrs. +Elton. “We will not allow her to do such a thing again:”--and nodding +significantly--“there must be some arrangement made, there must indeed. +I shall speak to Mr. E. The man who fetches our letters every morning +(one of our men, I forget his name) shall inquire for yours too and +bring them to you. That will obviate all difficulties you know; and from +_us_ I really think, my dear Jane, you can have no scruple to accept +such an accommodation.” + +“You are extremely kind,” said Jane; “but I cannot give up my early +walk. I am advised to be out of doors as much as I can, I must walk +somewhere, and the post-office is an object; and upon my word, I have +scarcely ever had a bad morning before.” + +“My dear Jane, say no more about it. The thing is determined, that is +(laughing affectedly) as far as I can presume to determine any thing +without the concurrence of my lord and master. You know, Mrs. Weston, +you and I must be cautious how we express ourselves. But I do flatter +myself, my dear Jane, that my influence is not entirely worn out. If I +meet with no insuperable difficulties therefore, consider that point as +settled.” + +“Excuse me,” said Jane earnestly, “I cannot by any means consent to such +an arrangement, so needlessly troublesome to your servant. If the errand +were not a pleasure to me, it could be done, as it always is when I am +not here, by my grandmama's.” + +“Oh! my dear; but so much as Patty has to do!--And it is a kindness to +employ our men.” + +Jane looked as if she did not mean to be conquered; but instead of +answering, she began speaking again to Mr. John Knightley. + +“The post-office is a wonderful establishment!” said she.--“The +regularity and despatch of it! If one thinks of all that it has to do, +and all that it does so well, it is really astonishing!” + +“It is certainly very well regulated.” + +“So seldom that any negligence or blunder appears! So seldom that +a letter, among the thousands that are constantly passing about the +kingdom, is even carried wrong--and not one in a million, I suppose, +actually lost! And when one considers the variety of hands, and of bad +hands too, that are to be deciphered, it increases the wonder.” + +“The clerks grow expert from habit.--They must begin with some quickness +of sight and hand, and exercise improves them. If you want any farther +explanation,” continued he, smiling, “they are paid for it. That is +the key to a great deal of capacity. The public pays and must be served +well.” + +The varieties of handwriting were farther talked of, and the usual +observations made. + +“I have heard it asserted,” said John Knightley, “that the same sort +of handwriting often prevails in a family; and where the same master +teaches, it is natural enough. But for that reason, I should imagine +the likeness must be chiefly confined to the females, for boys have very +little teaching after an early age, and scramble into any hand they can +get. Isabella and Emma, I think, do write very much alike. I have not +always known their writing apart.” + +“Yes,” said his brother hesitatingly, “there is a likeness. I know what +you mean--but Emma's hand is the strongest.” + +“Isabella and Emma both write beautifully,” said Mr. Woodhouse; “and +always did. And so does poor Mrs. Weston”--with half a sigh and half a +smile at her. + +“I never saw any gentleman's handwriting”--Emma began, looking also at +Mrs. Weston; but stopped, on perceiving that Mrs. Weston was attending +to some one else--and the pause gave her time to reflect, “Now, how am +I going to introduce him?--Am I unequal to speaking his name at once +before all these people? Is it necessary for me to use any roundabout +phrase?--Your Yorkshire friend--your correspondent in Yorkshire;--that +would be the way, I suppose, if I were very bad.--No, I can pronounce +his name without the smallest distress. I certainly get better and +better.--Now for it.” + +Mrs. Weston was disengaged and Emma began again--“Mr. Frank Churchill +writes one of the best gentleman's hands I ever saw.” + +“I do not admire it,” said Mr. Knightley. “It is too small--wants +strength. It is like a woman's writing.” + +This was not submitted to by either lady. They vindicated him against +the base aspersion. “No, it by no means wanted strength--it was not a +large hand, but very clear and certainly strong. Had not Mrs. Weston any +letter about her to produce?” No, she had heard from him very lately, +but having answered the letter, had put it away. + +“If we were in the other room,” said Emma, “if I had my writing-desk, I +am sure I could produce a specimen. I have a note of his.--Do not you +remember, Mrs. Weston, employing him to write for you one day?” + +“He chose to say he was employed”-- + +“Well, well, I have that note; and can shew it after dinner to convince +Mr. Knightley.” + +“Oh! when a gallant young man, like Mr. Frank Churchill,” said Mr. +Knightley dryly, “writes to a fair lady like Miss Woodhouse, he will, of +course, put forth his best.” + +Dinner was on table.--Mrs. Elton, before she could be spoken to, was +ready; and before Mr. Woodhouse had reached her with his request to be +allowed to hand her into the dining-parlour, was saying-- + +“Must I go first? I really am ashamed of always leading the way.” + +Jane's solicitude about fetching her own letters had not escaped Emma. +She had heard and seen it all; and felt some curiosity to know whether +the wet walk of this morning had produced any. She suspected that it +_had_; that it would not have been so resolutely encountered but in full +expectation of hearing from some one very dear, and that it had not been +in vain. She thought there was an air of greater happiness than usual--a +glow both of complexion and spirits. + +She could have made an inquiry or two, as to the expedition and the +expense of the Irish mails;--it was at her tongue's end--but she +abstained. She was quite determined not to utter a word that should hurt +Jane Fairfax's feelings; and they followed the other ladies out of the +room, arm in arm, with an appearance of good-will highly becoming to the +beauty and grace of each. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +When the ladies returned to the drawing-room after dinner, Emma found it +hardly possible to prevent their making two distinct parties;--with so +much perseverance in judging and behaving ill did Mrs. Elton engross +Jane Fairfax and slight herself. She and Mrs. Weston were obliged to +be almost always either talking together or silent together. Mrs. Elton +left them no choice. If Jane repressed her for a little time, she +soon began again; and though much that passed between them was in a +half-whisper, especially on Mrs. Elton's side, there was no avoiding +a knowledge of their principal subjects: The post-office--catching +cold--fetching letters--and friendship, were long under discussion; +and to them succeeded one, which must be at least equally unpleasant +to Jane--inquiries whether she had yet heard of any situation likely to +suit her, and professions of Mrs. Elton's meditated activity. + +“Here is April come!” said she, “I get quite anxious about you. June +will soon be here.” + +“But I have never fixed on June or any other month--merely looked +forward to the summer in general.” + +“But have you really heard of nothing?” + +“I have not even made any inquiry; I do not wish to make any yet.” + +“Oh! my dear, we cannot begin too early; you are not aware of the +difficulty of procuring exactly the desirable thing.” + +“I not aware!” said Jane, shaking her head; “dear Mrs. Elton, who can +have thought of it as I have done?” + +“But you have not seen so much of the world as I have. You do not know +how many candidates there always are for the _first_ situations. I saw +a vast deal of that in the neighbourhood round Maple Grove. A cousin of +Mr. Suckling, Mrs. Bragge, had such an infinity of applications; every +body was anxious to be in her family, for she moves in the first circle. +Wax-candles in the schoolroom! You may imagine how desirable! Of all +houses in the kingdom Mrs. Bragge's is the one I would most wish to see +you in.” + +“Colonel and Mrs. Campbell are to be in town again by midsummer,” + said Jane. “I must spend some time with them; I am sure they will want +it;--afterwards I may probably be glad to dispose of myself. But I would +not wish you to take the trouble of making any inquiries at present.” + +“Trouble! aye, I know your scruples. You are afraid of giving me +trouble; but I assure you, my dear Jane, the Campbells can hardly be +more interested about you than I am. I shall write to Mrs. Partridge in +a day or two, and shall give her a strict charge to be on the look-out +for any thing eligible.” + +“Thank you, but I would rather you did not mention the subject to +her; till the time draws nearer, I do not wish to be giving any body +trouble.” + +“But, my dear child, the time is drawing near; here is April, and June, +or say even July, is very near, with such business to accomplish before +us. Your inexperience really amuses me! A situation such as you deserve, +and your friends would require for you, is no everyday occurrence, +is not obtained at a moment's notice; indeed, indeed, we must begin +inquiring directly.” + +“Excuse me, ma'am, but this is by no means my intention; I make no +inquiry myself, and should be sorry to have any made by my friends. When +I am quite determined as to the time, I am not at all afraid of being +long unemployed. There are places in town, offices, where inquiry +would soon produce something--Offices for the sale--not quite of human +flesh--but of human intellect.” + +“Oh! my dear, human flesh! You quite shock me; if you mean a fling at +the slave-trade, I assure you Mr. Suckling was always rather a friend to +the abolition.” + +“I did not mean, I was not thinking of the slave-trade,” replied Jane; +“governess-trade, I assure you, was all that I had in view; widely +different certainly as to the guilt of those who carry it on; but as to +the greater misery of the victims, I do not know where it lies. But +I only mean to say that there are advertising offices, and that by +applying to them I should have no doubt of very soon meeting with +something that would do.” + +“Something that would do!” repeated Mrs. Elton. “Aye, _that_ may suit +your humble ideas of yourself;--I know what a modest creature you are; +but it will not satisfy your friends to have you taking up with any +thing that may offer, any inferior, commonplace situation, in a family +not moving in a certain circle, or able to command the elegancies of +life.” + +“You are very obliging; but as to all that, I am very indifferent; +it would be no object to me to be with the rich; my mortifications, I +think, would only be the greater; I should suffer more from comparison. +A gentleman's family is all that I should condition for.” + +“I know you, I know you; you would take up with any thing; but I shall +be a little more nice, and I am sure the good Campbells will be quite +on my side; with your superior talents, you have a right to move in the +first circle. Your musical knowledge alone would entitle you to name +your own terms, have as many rooms as you like, and mix in the family +as much as you chose;--that is--I do not know--if you knew the harp, you +might do all that, I am very sure; but you sing as well as play;--yes, I +really believe you might, even without the harp, stipulate for what +you chose;--and you must and shall be delightfully, honourably and +comfortably settled before the Campbells or I have any rest.” + +“You may well class the delight, the honour, and the comfort of such +a situation together,” said Jane, “they are pretty sure to be equal; +however, I am very serious in not wishing any thing to be attempted +at present for me. I am exceedingly obliged to you, Mrs. Elton, I am +obliged to any body who feels for me, but I am quite serious in wishing +nothing to be done till the summer. For two or three months longer I +shall remain where I am, and as I am.” + +“And I am quite serious too, I assure you,” replied Mrs. Elton gaily, +“in resolving to be always on the watch, and employing my friends to +watch also, that nothing really unexceptionable may pass us.” + +In this style she ran on; never thoroughly stopped by any thing till Mr. +Woodhouse came into the room; her vanity had then a change of object, +and Emma heard her saying in the same half-whisper to Jane, + +“Here comes this dear old beau of mine, I protest!--Only think of his +gallantry in coming away before the other men!--what a dear creature +he is;--I assure you I like him excessively. I admire all that quaint, +old-fashioned politeness; it is much more to my taste than modern ease; +modern ease often disgusts me. But this good old Mr. Woodhouse, I wish +you had heard his gallant speeches to me at dinner. Oh! I assure you I +began to think my caro sposo would be absolutely jealous. I fancy I +am rather a favourite; he took notice of my gown. How do you like +it?--Selina's choice--handsome, I think, but I do not know whether it +is not over-trimmed; I have the greatest dislike to the idea of being +over-trimmed--quite a horror of finery. I must put on a few ornaments +now, because it is expected of me. A bride, you know, must appear like +a bride, but my natural taste is all for simplicity; a simple style +of dress is so infinitely preferable to finery. But I am quite in the +minority, I believe; few people seem to value simplicity of dress,--show +and finery are every thing. I have some notion of putting such a +trimming as this to my white and silver poplin. Do you think it will +look well?” + +The whole party were but just reassembled in the drawing-room when Mr. +Weston made his appearance among them. He had returned to a late dinner, +and walked to Hartfield as soon as it was over. He had been too much +expected by the best judges, for surprize--but there was great joy. Mr. +Woodhouse was almost as glad to see him now, as he would have been sorry +to see him before. John Knightley only was in mute astonishment.--That +a man who might have spent his evening quietly at home after a day +of business in London, should set off again, and walk half a mile +to another man's house, for the sake of being in mixed company till +bed-time, of finishing his day in the efforts of civility and the noise +of numbers, was a circumstance to strike him deeply. A man who had been +in motion since eight o'clock in the morning, and might now have been +still, who had been long talking, and might have been silent, who had +been in more than one crowd, and might have been alone!--Such a man, to +quit the tranquillity and independence of his own fireside, and on the +evening of a cold sleety April day rush out again into the world!--Could +he by a touch of his finger have instantly taken back his wife, there +would have been a motive; but his coming would probably prolong rather +than break up the party. John Knightley looked at him with amazement, +then shrugged his shoulders, and said, “I could not have believed it +even of _him_.” + +Mr. Weston meanwhile, perfectly unsuspicious of the indignation he was +exciting, happy and cheerful as usual, and with all the right of being +principal talker, which a day spent anywhere from home confers, was +making himself agreeable among the rest; and having satisfied the +inquiries of his wife as to his dinner, convincing her that none of all +her careful directions to the servants had been forgotten, and spread +abroad what public news he had heard, was proceeding to a family +communication, which, though principally addressed to Mrs. Weston, he +had not the smallest doubt of being highly interesting to every body in +the room. He gave her a letter, it was from Frank, and to herself; he +had met with it in his way, and had taken the liberty of opening it. + +“Read it, read it,” said he, “it will give you pleasure; only a few +lines--will not take you long; read it to Emma.” + +The two ladies looked over it together; and he sat smiling and talking +to them the whole time, in a voice a little subdued, but very audible to +every body. + +“Well, he is coming, you see; good news, I think. Well, what do you say +to it?--I always told you he would be here again soon, did not I?--Anne, +my dear, did not I always tell you so, and you would not believe me?--In +town next week, you see--at the latest, I dare say; for _she_ is as +impatient as the black gentleman when any thing is to be done; most +likely they will be there to-morrow or Saturday. As to her illness, all +nothing of course. But it is an excellent thing to have Frank among us +again, so near as town. They will stay a good while when they do come, +and he will be half his time with us. This is precisely what I wanted. +Well, pretty good news, is not it? Have you finished it? Has Emma read +it all? Put it up, put it up; we will have a good talk about it some +other time, but it will not do now. I shall only just mention the +circumstance to the others in a common way.” + +Mrs. Weston was most comfortably pleased on the occasion. Her looks +and words had nothing to restrain them. She was happy, she knew she was +happy, and knew she ought to be happy. Her congratulations were warm and +open; but Emma could not speak so fluently. _She_ was a little occupied +in weighing her own feelings, and trying to understand the degree of her +agitation, which she rather thought was considerable. + +Mr. Weston, however, too eager to be very observant, too communicative +to want others to talk, was very well satisfied with what she did say, +and soon moved away to make the rest of his friends happy by a partial +communication of what the whole room must have overheard already. + +It was well that he took every body's joy for granted, or he might +not have thought either Mr. Woodhouse or Mr. Knightley particularly +delighted. They were the first entitled, after Mrs. Weston and Emma, to +be made happy;--from them he would have proceeded to Miss Fairfax, but +she was so deep in conversation with John Knightley, that it would have +been too positive an interruption; and finding himself close to Mrs. +Elton, and her attention disengaged, he necessarily began on the subject +with her. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +“I hope I shall soon have the pleasure of introducing my son to you,” + said Mr. Weston. + +Mrs. Elton, very willing to suppose a particular compliment intended her +by such a hope, smiled most graciously. + +“You have heard of a certain Frank Churchill, I presume,” he +continued--“and know him to be my son, though he does not bear my name.” + +“Oh! yes, and I shall be very happy in his acquaintance. I am sure Mr. +Elton will lose no time in calling on him; and we shall both have great +pleasure in seeing him at the Vicarage.” + +“You are very obliging.--Frank will be extremely happy, I am sure.-- +He is to be in town next week, if not sooner. We have notice of it in a +letter to-day. I met the letters in my way this morning, and seeing my +son's hand, presumed to open it--though it was not directed to me--it +was to Mrs. Weston. She is his principal correspondent, I assure you. I +hardly ever get a letter.” + +“And so you absolutely opened what was directed to her! Oh! Mr. +Weston--(laughing affectedly) I must protest against that.--A most +dangerous precedent indeed!--I beg you will not let your neighbours +follow your example.--Upon my word, if this is what I am to expect, we +married women must begin to exert ourselves!--Oh! Mr. Weston, I could +not have believed it of you!” + +“Aye, we men are sad fellows. You must take care of yourself, Mrs. +Elton.--This letter tells us--it is a short letter--written in a hurry, +merely to give us notice--it tells us that they are all coming up to +town directly, on Mrs. Churchill's account--she has not been well the +whole winter, and thinks Enscombe too cold for her--so they are all to +move southward without loss of time.” + +“Indeed!--from Yorkshire, I think. Enscombe is in Yorkshire?” + +“Yes, they are about one hundred and ninety miles from London, a +considerable journey.” + +“Yes, upon my word, very considerable. Sixty-five miles farther than +from Maple Grove to London. But what is distance, Mr. Weston, to people +of large fortune?--You would be amazed to hear how my brother, Mr. +Suckling, sometimes flies about. You will hardly believe me--but twice +in one week he and Mr. Bragge went to London and back again with four +horses.” + +“The evil of the distance from Enscombe,” said Mr. Weston, “is, that +Mrs. Churchill, _as_ _we_ _understand_, has not been able to leave the +sofa for a week together. In Frank's last letter she complained, he +said, of being too weak to get into her conservatory without having +both his arm and his uncle's! This, you know, speaks a great degree of +weakness--but now she is so impatient to be in town, that she means to +sleep only two nights on the road.--So Frank writes word. Certainly, +delicate ladies have very extraordinary constitutions, Mrs. Elton. You +must grant me that.” + +“No, indeed, I shall grant you nothing. I always take the part of my +own sex. I do indeed. I give you notice--You will find me a formidable +antagonist on that point. I always stand up for women--and I assure you, +if you knew how Selina feels with respect to sleeping at an inn, you +would not wonder at Mrs. Churchill's making incredible exertions to +avoid it. Selina says it is quite horror to her--and I believe I have +caught a little of her nicety. She always travels with her own sheets; +an excellent precaution. Does Mrs. Churchill do the same?” + +“Depend upon it, Mrs. Churchill does every thing that any other fine +lady ever did. Mrs. Churchill will not be second to any lady in the land +for”-- + +Mrs. Elton eagerly interposed with, + +“Oh! Mr. Weston, do not mistake me. Selina is no fine lady, I assure +you. Do not run away with such an idea.” + +“Is not she? Then she is no rule for Mrs. Churchill, who is as thorough +a fine lady as any body ever beheld.” + +Mrs. Elton began to think she had been wrong in disclaiming so warmly. +It was by no means her object to have it believed that her sister was +_not_ a fine lady; perhaps there was want of spirit in the pretence of +it;--and she was considering in what way she had best retract, when Mr. +Weston went on. + +“Mrs. Churchill is not much in my good graces, as you may suspect--but +this is quite between ourselves. She is very fond of Frank, and +therefore I would not speak ill of her. Besides, she is out of health +now; but _that_ indeed, by her own account, she has always been. I would +not say so to every body, Mrs. Elton, but I have not much faith in Mrs. +Churchill's illness.” + +“If she is really ill, why not go to Bath, Mr. Weston?--To Bath, or to +Clifton?” “She has taken it into her head that Enscombe is too cold for +her. The fact is, I suppose, that she is tired of Enscombe. She has now +been a longer time stationary there, than she ever was before, and she +begins to want change. It is a retired place. A fine place, but very +retired.” + +“Aye--like Maple Grove, I dare say. Nothing can stand more retired from +the road than Maple Grove. Such an immense plantation all round it! You +seem shut out from every thing--in the most complete retirement.--And +Mrs. Churchill probably has not health or spirits like Selina to enjoy +that sort of seclusion. Or, perhaps she may not have resources enough in +herself to be qualified for a country life. I always say a woman cannot +have too many resources--and I feel very thankful that I have so many +myself as to be quite independent of society.” + +“Frank was here in February for a fortnight.” + +“So I remember to have heard. He will find an _addition_ to the society +of Highbury when he comes again; that is, if I may presume to call +myself an addition. But perhaps he may never have heard of there being +such a creature in the world.” + +This was too loud a call for a compliment to be passed by, and Mr. +Weston, with a very good grace, immediately exclaimed, + +“My dear madam! Nobody but yourself could imagine such a thing possible. +Not heard of you!--I believe Mrs. Weston's letters lately have been full +of very little else than Mrs. Elton.” + +He had done his duty and could return to his son. + +“When Frank left us,” continued he, “it was quite uncertain when we +might see him again, which makes this day's news doubly welcome. It has +been completely unexpected. That is, _I_ always had a strong persuasion +he would be here again soon, I was sure something favourable would turn +up--but nobody believed me. He and Mrs. Weston were both dreadfully +desponding. 'How could he contrive to come? And how could it be supposed +that his uncle and aunt would spare him again?' and so forth--I always +felt that something would happen in our favour; and so it has, you see. +I have observed, Mrs. Elton, in the course of my life, that if things +are going untowardly one month, they are sure to mend the next.” + +“Very true, Mr. Weston, perfectly true. It is just what I used to say to +a certain gentleman in company in the days of courtship, when, because +things did not go quite right, did not proceed with all the rapidity +which suited his feelings, he was apt to be in despair, and exclaim that +he was sure at this rate it would be _May_ before Hymen's saffron robe +would be put on for us. Oh! the pains I have been at to dispel those +gloomy ideas and give him cheerfuller views! The carriage--we had +disappointments about the carriage;--one morning, I remember, he came to +me quite in despair.” + +She was stopped by a slight fit of coughing, and Mr. Weston instantly +seized the opportunity of going on. + +“You were mentioning May. May is the very month which Mrs. Churchill +is ordered, or has ordered herself, to spend in some warmer place than +Enscombe--in short, to spend in London; so that we have the agreeable +prospect of frequent visits from Frank the whole spring--precisely the +season of the year which one should have chosen for it: days almost at +the longest; weather genial and pleasant, always inviting one out, and +never too hot for exercise. When he was here before, we made the best +of it; but there was a good deal of wet, damp, cheerless weather; +there always is in February, you know, and we could not do half that we +intended. Now will be the time. This will be complete enjoyment; and I +do not know, Mrs. Elton, whether the uncertainty of our meetings, the +sort of constant expectation there will be of his coming in to-day or +to-morrow, and at any hour, may not be more friendly to happiness than +having him actually in the house. I think it is so. I think it is the +state of mind which gives most spirit and delight. I hope you will be +pleased with my son; but you must not expect a prodigy. He is generally +thought a fine young man, but do not expect a prodigy. Mrs. Weston's +partiality for him is very great, and, as you may suppose, most +gratifying to me. She thinks nobody equal to him.” + +“And I assure you, Mr. Weston, I have very little doubt that my opinion +will be decidedly in his favour. I have heard so much in praise of Mr. +Frank Churchill.--At the same time it is fair to observe, that I am one +of those who always judge for themselves, and are by no means implicitly +guided by others. I give you notice that as I find your son, so I shall +judge of him.--I am no flatterer.” + +Mr. Weston was musing. + +“I hope,” said he presently, “I have not been severe upon poor Mrs. +Churchill. If she is ill I should be sorry to do her injustice; but +there are some traits in her character which make it difficult for me to +speak of her with the forbearance I could wish. You cannot be ignorant, +Mrs. Elton, of my connexion with the family, nor of the treatment I have +met with; and, between ourselves, the whole blame of it is to be laid +to her. She was the instigator. Frank's mother would never have been +slighted as she was but for her. Mr. Churchill has pride; but his pride +is nothing to his wife's: his is a quiet, indolent, gentlemanlike sort +of pride that would harm nobody, and only make himself a little helpless +and tiresome; but her pride is arrogance and insolence! And what +inclines one less to bear, she has no fair pretence of family or blood. +She was nobody when he married her, barely the daughter of a gentleman; +but ever since her being turned into a Churchill she has out-Churchill'd +them all in high and mighty claims: but in herself, I assure you, she is +an upstart.” + +“Only think! well, that must be infinitely provoking! I have quite +a horror of upstarts. Maple Grove has given me a thorough disgust to +people of that sort; for there is a family in that neighbourhood who +are such an annoyance to my brother and sister from the airs they give +themselves! Your description of Mrs. Churchill made me think of them +directly. People of the name of Tupman, very lately settled there, and +encumbered with many low connexions, but giving themselves immense airs, +and expecting to be on a footing with the old established families. +A year and a half is the very utmost that they can have lived at West +Hall; and how they got their fortune nobody knows. They came from +Birmingham, which is not a place to promise much, you know, Mr. Weston. +One has not great hopes from Birmingham. I always say there is something +direful in the sound: but nothing more is positively known of the +Tupmans, though a good many things I assure you are suspected; and +yet by their manners they evidently think themselves equal even to +my brother, Mr. Suckling, who happens to be one of their nearest +neighbours. It is infinitely too bad. Mr. Suckling, who has been eleven +years a resident at Maple Grove, and whose father had it before him--I +believe, at least--I am almost sure that old Mr. Suckling had completed +the purchase before his death.” + +They were interrupted. Tea was carrying round, and Mr. Weston, having +said all that he wanted, soon took the opportunity of walking away. + +After tea, Mr. and Mrs. Weston, and Mr. Elton sat down with Mr. +Woodhouse to cards. The remaining five were left to their own powers, +and Emma doubted their getting on very well; for Mr. Knightley seemed +little disposed for conversation; Mrs. Elton was wanting notice, which +nobody had inclination to pay, and she was herself in a worry of spirits +which would have made her prefer being silent. + +Mr. John Knightley proved more talkative than his brother. He was to +leave them early the next day; and he soon began with-- + +“Well, Emma, I do not believe I have any thing more to say about the +boys; but you have your sister's letter, and every thing is down at full +length there we may be sure. My charge would be much more concise than +her's, and probably not much in the same spirit; all that I have to +recommend being comprised in, do not spoil them, and do not physic +them.” + +“I rather hope to satisfy you both,” said Emma, “for I shall do all +in my power to make them happy, which will be enough for Isabella; and +happiness must preclude false indulgence and physic.” + +“And if you find them troublesome, you must send them home again.” + +“That is very likely. You think so, do not you?” + +“I hope I am aware that they may be too noisy for your father--or even +may be some encumbrance to you, if your visiting engagements continue to +increase as much as they have done lately.” + +“Increase!” + +“Certainly; you must be sensible that the last half-year has made a +great difference in your way of life.” + +“Difference! No indeed I am not.” + +“There can be no doubt of your being much more engaged with company than +you used to be. Witness this very time. Here am I come down for only +one day, and you are engaged with a dinner-party!--When did it happen +before, or any thing like it? Your neighbourhood is increasing, and you +mix more with it. A little while ago, every letter to Isabella brought +an account of fresh gaieties; dinners at Mr. Cole's, or balls at the +Crown. The difference which Randalls, Randalls alone makes in your +goings-on, is very great.” + +“Yes,” said his brother quickly, “it is Randalls that does it all.” + +“Very well--and as Randalls, I suppose, is not likely to have less +influence than heretofore, it strikes me as a possible thing, Emma, that +Henry and John may be sometimes in the way. And if they are, I only beg +you to send them home.” + +“No,” cried Mr. Knightley, “that need not be the consequence. Let them +be sent to Donwell. I shall certainly be at leisure.” + +“Upon my word,” exclaimed Emma, “you amuse me! I should like to know how +many of all my numerous engagements take place without your being of +the party; and why I am to be supposed in danger of wanting leisure to +attend to the little boys. These amazing engagements of mine--what have +they been? Dining once with the Coles--and having a ball talked of, +which never took place. I can understand you--(nodding at Mr. John +Knightley)--your good fortune in meeting with so many of your friends at +once here, delights you too much to pass unnoticed. But you, (turning to +Mr. Knightley,) who know how very, very seldom I am ever two hours from +Hartfield, why you should foresee such a series of dissipation for me, I +cannot imagine. And as to my dear little boys, I must say, that if Aunt +Emma has not time for them, I do not think they would fare much better +with Uncle Knightley, who is absent from home about five hours where she +is absent one--and who, when he is at home, is either reading to himself +or settling his accounts.” + +Mr. Knightley seemed to be trying not to smile; and succeeded without +difficulty, upon Mrs. Elton's beginning to talk to him. + + + + +VOLUME III + + + +CHAPTER I + + +A very little quiet reflection was enough to satisfy Emma as to the +nature of her agitation on hearing this news of Frank Churchill. She +was soon convinced that it was not for herself she was feeling at all +apprehensive or embarrassed; it was for him. Her own attachment had +really subsided into a mere nothing; it was not worth thinking of;--but +if he, who had undoubtedly been always so much the most in love of the +two, were to be returning with the same warmth of sentiment which he had +taken away, it would be very distressing. If a separation of two +months should not have cooled him, there were dangers and evils before +her:--caution for him and for herself would be necessary. She did +not mean to have her own affections entangled again, and it would be +incumbent on her to avoid any encouragement of his. + +She wished she might be able to keep him from an absolute declaration. +That would be so very painful a conclusion of their present +acquaintance! and yet, she could not help rather anticipating something +decisive. She felt as if the spring would not pass without bringing a +crisis, an event, a something to alter her present composed and tranquil +state. + +It was not very long, though rather longer than Mr. Weston had foreseen, +before she had the power of forming some opinion of Frank Churchill's +feelings. The Enscombe family were not in town quite so soon as had been +imagined, but he was at Highbury very soon afterwards. He rode down +for a couple of hours; he could not yet do more; but as he came from +Randalls immediately to Hartfield, she could then exercise all her quick +observation, and speedily determine how he was influenced, and how she +must act. They met with the utmost friendliness. There could be no doubt +of his great pleasure in seeing her. But she had an almost instant doubt +of his caring for her as he had done, of his feeling the same tenderness +in the same degree. She watched him well. It was a clear thing he was +less in love than he had been. Absence, with the conviction probably +of her indifference, had produced this very natural and very desirable +effect. + +He was in high spirits; as ready to talk and laugh as ever, and seemed +delighted to speak of his former visit, and recur to old stories: and he +was not without agitation. It was not in his calmness that she read +his comparative difference. He was not calm; his spirits were evidently +fluttered; there was restlessness about him. Lively as he was, it seemed +a liveliness that did not satisfy himself; but what decided her belief +on the subject, was his staying only a quarter of an hour, and hurrying +away to make other calls in Highbury. “He had seen a group of old +acquaintance in the street as he passed--he had not stopped, he would +not stop for more than a word--but he had the vanity to think they would +be disappointed if he did not call, and much as he wished to stay longer +at Hartfield, he must hurry off.” She had no doubt as to his being less +in love--but neither his agitated spirits, nor his hurrying away, seemed +like a perfect cure; and she was rather inclined to think it implied a +dread of her returning power, and a discreet resolution of not trusting +himself with her long. + +This was the only visit from Frank Churchill in the course of ten days. +He was often hoping, intending to come--but was always prevented. His +aunt could not bear to have him leave her. Such was his own account at +Randall's. If he were quite sincere, if he really tried to come, it was +to be inferred that Mrs. Churchill's removal to London had been of no +service to the wilful or nervous part of her disorder. That she was +really ill was very certain; he had declared himself convinced of it, at +Randalls. Though much might be fancy, he could not doubt, when he looked +back, that she was in a weaker state of health than she had been half a +year ago. He did not believe it to proceed from any thing that care +and medicine might not remove, or at least that she might not have many +years of existence before her; but he could not be prevailed on, by all +his father's doubts, to say that her complaints were merely imaginary, +or that she was as strong as ever. + +It soon appeared that London was not the place for her. She could +not endure its noise. Her nerves were under continual irritation and +suffering; and by the ten days' end, her nephew's letter to Randalls +communicated a change of plan. They were going to remove immediately to +Richmond. Mrs. Churchill had been recommended to the medical skill of +an eminent person there, and had otherwise a fancy for the place. A +ready-furnished house in a favourite spot was engaged, and much benefit +expected from the change. + +Emma heard that Frank wrote in the highest spirits of this arrangement, +and seemed most fully to appreciate the blessing of having two months +before him of such near neighbourhood to many dear friends--for the +house was taken for May and June. She was told that now he wrote with +the greatest confidence of being often with them, almost as often as he +could even wish. + +Emma saw how Mr. Weston understood these joyous prospects. He was +considering her as the source of all the happiness they offered. She +hoped it was not so. Two months must bring it to the proof. + +Mr. Weston's own happiness was indisputable. He was quite delighted. +It was the very circumstance he could have wished for. Now, it would be +really having Frank in their neighbourhood. What were nine miles to +a young man?--An hour's ride. He would be always coming over. The +difference in that respect of Richmond and London was enough to make +the whole difference of seeing him always and seeing him never. Sixteen +miles--nay, eighteen--it must be full eighteen to Manchester-street--was +a serious obstacle. Were he ever able to get away, the day would be +spent in coming and returning. There was no comfort in having him in +London; he might as well be at Enscombe; but Richmond was the very +distance for easy intercourse. Better than nearer! + +One good thing was immediately brought to a certainty by this +removal,--the ball at the Crown. It had not been forgotten before, +but it had been soon acknowledged vain to attempt to fix a day. Now, +however, it was absolutely to be; every preparation was resumed, and +very soon after the Churchills had removed to Richmond, a few lines from +Frank, to say that his aunt felt already much better for the change, and +that he had no doubt of being able to join them for twenty-four hours at +any given time, induced them to name as early a day as possible. + +Mr. Weston's ball was to be a real thing. A very few to-morrows stood +between the young people of Highbury and happiness. + +Mr. Woodhouse was resigned. The time of year lightened the evil to him. +May was better for every thing than February. Mrs. Bates was engaged to +spend the evening at Hartfield, James had due notice, and he sanguinely +hoped that neither dear little Henry nor dear little John would have any +thing the matter with them, while dear Emma were gone. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +No misfortune occurred, again to prevent the ball. The day approached, +the day arrived; and after a morning of some anxious watching, Frank +Churchill, in all the certainty of his own self, reached Randalls before +dinner, and every thing was safe. + +No second meeting had there yet been between him and Emma. The room +at the Crown was to witness it;--but it would be better than a +common meeting in a crowd. Mr. Weston had been so very earnest in his +entreaties for her arriving there as soon as possible after themselves, +for the purpose of taking her opinion as to the propriety and comfort of +the rooms before any other persons came, that she could not refuse him, +and must therefore spend some quiet interval in the young man's company. +She was to convey Harriet, and they drove to the Crown in good time, the +Randalls party just sufficiently before them. + +Frank Churchill seemed to have been on the watch; and though he did not +say much, his eyes declared that he meant to have a delightful evening. +They all walked about together, to see that every thing was as it should +be; and within a few minutes were joined by the contents of another +carriage, which Emma could not hear the sound of at first, without great +surprize. “So unreasonably early!” she was going to exclaim; but she +presently found that it was a family of old friends, who were coming, +like herself, by particular desire, to help Mr. Weston's judgment; and +they were so very closely followed by another carriage of cousins, +who had been entreated to come early with the same distinguishing +earnestness, on the same errand, that it seemed as if half the company +might soon be collected together for the purpose of preparatory +inspection. + +Emma perceived that her taste was not the only taste on which Mr. Weston +depended, and felt, that to be the favourite and intimate of a man +who had so many intimates and confidantes, was not the very first +distinction in the scale of vanity. She liked his open manners, but +a little less of open-heartedness would have made him a higher +character.--General benevolence, but not general friendship, made a +man what he ought to be.--She could fancy such a man. The whole party +walked about, and looked, and praised again; and then, having nothing +else to do, formed a sort of half-circle round the fire, to observe +in their various modes, till other subjects were started, that, though +_May_, a fire in the evening was still very pleasant. + +Emma found that it was not Mr. Weston's fault that the number of privy +councillors was not yet larger. They had stopped at Mrs. Bates's door +to offer the use of their carriage, but the aunt and niece were to be +brought by the Eltons. + +Frank was standing by her, but not steadily; there was a restlessness, +which shewed a mind not at ease. He was looking about, he was going to +the door, he was watching for the sound of other carriages,--impatient +to begin, or afraid of being always near her. + +Mrs. Elton was spoken of. “I think she must be here soon,” said he. “I +have a great curiosity to see Mrs. Elton, I have heard so much of her. +It cannot be long, I think, before she comes.” + +A carriage was heard. He was on the move immediately; but coming back, +said, + +“I am forgetting that I am not acquainted with her. I have never seen +either Mr. or Mrs. Elton. I have no business to put myself forward.” + +Mr. and Mrs. Elton appeared; and all the smiles and the proprieties +passed. + +“But Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax!” said Mr. Weston, looking about. “We +thought you were to bring them.” + +The mistake had been slight. The carriage was sent for them now. Emma +longed to know what Frank's first opinion of Mrs. Elton might be; how +he was affected by the studied elegance of her dress, and her smiles of +graciousness. He was immediately qualifying himself to form an opinion, +by giving her very proper attention, after the introduction had passed. + +In a few minutes the carriage returned.--Somebody talked of rain.--“I +will see that there are umbrellas, sir,” said Frank to his father: +“Miss Bates must not be forgotten:” and away he went. Mr. Weston was +following; but Mrs. Elton detained him, to gratify him by her opinion +of his son; and so briskly did she begin, that the young man himself, +though by no means moving slowly, could hardly be out of hearing. + +“A very fine young man indeed, Mr. Weston. You know I candidly told you +I should form my own opinion; and I am happy to say that I am extremely +pleased with him.--You may believe me. I never compliment. I think him +a very handsome young man, and his manners are precisely what I like and +approve--so truly the gentleman, without the least conceit or puppyism. +You must know I have a vast dislike to puppies--quite a horror of them. +They were never tolerated at Maple Grove. Neither Mr. Suckling nor +me had ever any patience with them; and we used sometimes to say very +cutting things! Selina, who is mild almost to a fault, bore with them +much better.” + +While she talked of his son, Mr. Weston's attention was chained; but +when she got to Maple Grove, he could recollect that there were ladies +just arriving to be attended to, and with happy smiles must hurry away. + +Mrs. Elton turned to Mrs. Weston. “I have no doubt of its being our +carriage with Miss Bates and Jane. Our coachman and horses are so +extremely expeditious!--I believe we drive faster than any body.--What +a pleasure it is to send one's carriage for a friend!--I understand you +were so kind as to offer, but another time it will be quite unnecessary. +You may be very sure I shall always take care of _them_.” + +Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax, escorted by the two gentlemen, walked into +the room; and Mrs. Elton seemed to think it as much her duty as Mrs. +Weston's to receive them. Her gestures and movements might be understood +by any one who looked on like Emma; but her words, every body's words, +were soon lost under the incessant flow of Miss Bates, who came in +talking, and had not finished her speech under many minutes after her +being admitted into the circle at the fire. As the door opened she was +heard, + +“So very obliging of you!--No rain at all. Nothing to signify. I do not +care for myself. Quite thick shoes. And Jane declares--Well!--(as soon +as she was within the door) Well! This is brilliant indeed!--This is +admirable!--Excellently contrived, upon my word. Nothing wanting. Could +not have imagined it.--So well lighted up!--Jane, Jane, look!--did you +ever see any thing? Oh! Mr. Weston, you must really have had Aladdin's +lamp. Good Mrs. Stokes would not know her own room again. I saw her as +I came in; she was standing in the entrance. 'Oh! Mrs. Stokes,' said +I--but I had not time for more.” She was now met by Mrs. Weston.--“Very +well, I thank you, ma'am. I hope you are quite well. Very happy to hear +it. So afraid you might have a headache!--seeing you pass by so often, +and knowing how much trouble you must have. Delighted to hear it indeed. +Ah! dear Mrs. Elton, so obliged to you for the carriage!--excellent +time. Jane and I quite ready. Did not keep the horses a moment. Most +comfortable carriage.--Oh! and I am sure our thanks are due to you, +Mrs. Weston, on that score. Mrs. Elton had most kindly sent Jane a note, +or we should have been.--But two such offers in one day!--Never were +such neighbours. I said to my mother, 'Upon my word, ma'am--.' Thank +you, my mother is remarkably well. Gone to Mr. Woodhouse's. I made her +take her shawl--for the evenings are not warm--her large new shawl-- +Mrs. Dixon's wedding-present.--So kind of her to think of my mother! +Bought at Weymouth, you know--Mr. Dixon's choice. There were three +others, Jane says, which they hesitated about some time. Colonel +Campbell rather preferred an olive. My dear Jane, are you sure you did +not wet your feet?--It was but a drop or two, but I am so afraid:--but +Mr. Frank Churchill was so extremely--and there was a mat to step +upon--I shall never forget his extreme politeness.--Oh! Mr. Frank +Churchill, I must tell you my mother's spectacles have never been in +fault since; the rivet never came out again. My mother often talks of +your good-nature. Does not she, Jane?--Do not we often talk of Mr. Frank +Churchill?--Ah! here's Miss Woodhouse.--Dear Miss Woodhouse, how do +you do?--Very well I thank you, quite well. This is meeting quite +in fairy-land!--Such a transformation!--Must not compliment, I know +(eyeing Emma most complacently)--that would be rude--but upon my word, +Miss Woodhouse, you do look--how do you like Jane's hair?--You are +a judge.--She did it all herself. Quite wonderful how she does her +hair!--No hairdresser from London I think could.--Ah! Dr. Hughes I +declare--and Mrs. Hughes. Must go and speak to Dr. and Mrs. Hughes for a +moment.--How do you do? How do you do?--Very well, I thank you. This +is delightful, is not it?--Where's dear Mr. Richard?--Oh! there he is. +Don't disturb him. Much better employed talking to the young ladies. How +do you do, Mr. Richard?--I saw you the other day as you rode through +the town--Mrs. Otway, I protest!--and good Mr. Otway, and Miss Otway +and Miss Caroline.--Such a host of friends!--and Mr. George and Mr. +Arthur!--How do you do? How do you all do?--Quite well, I am much +obliged to you. Never better.--Don't I hear another carriage?--Who can +this be?--very likely the worthy Coles.--Upon my word, this is charming +to be standing about among such friends! And such a noble fire!--I am +quite roasted. No coffee, I thank you, for me--never take coffee.--A +little tea if you please, sir, by and bye,--no hurry--Oh! here it comes. +Every thing so good!” + +Frank Churchill returned to his station by Emma; and as soon as Miss +Bates was quiet, she found herself necessarily overhearing the discourse +of Mrs. Elton and Miss Fairfax, who were standing a little way behind +her.--He was thoughtful. Whether he were overhearing too, she could not +determine. After a good many compliments to Jane on her dress and look, +compliments very quietly and properly taken, Mrs. Elton was evidently +wanting to be complimented herself--and it was, “How do you like +my gown?--How do you like my trimming?--How has Wright done my +hair?”--with many other relative questions, all answered with patient +politeness. Mrs. Elton then said, “Nobody can think less of dress in +general than I do--but upon such an occasion as this, when every body's +eyes are so much upon me, and in compliment to the Westons--who I have +no doubt are giving this ball chiefly to do me honour--I would not wish +to be inferior to others. And I see very few pearls in the room except +mine.--So Frank Churchill is a capital dancer, I understand.--We shall +see if our styles suit.--A fine young man certainly is Frank Churchill. +I like him very well.” + +At this moment Frank began talking so vigorously, that Emma could not +but imagine he had overheard his own praises, and did not want to hear +more;--and the voices of the ladies were drowned for a while, till +another suspension brought Mrs. Elton's tones again distinctly +forward.--Mr. Elton had just joined them, and his wife was exclaiming, + +“Oh! you have found us out at last, have you, in our seclusion?--I was +this moment telling Jane, I thought you would begin to be impatient for +tidings of us.” + +“Jane!”--repeated Frank Churchill, with a look of surprize and +displeasure.--“That is easy--but Miss Fairfax does not disapprove it, I +suppose.” + +“How do you like Mrs. Elton?” said Emma in a whisper. + +“Not at all.” + +“You are ungrateful.” + +“Ungrateful!--What do you mean?” Then changing from a frown to a +smile--“No, do not tell me--I do not want to know what you mean.--Where +is my father?--When are we to begin dancing?” + +Emma could hardly understand him; he seemed in an odd humour. He walked +off to find his father, but was quickly back again with both Mr. and +Mrs. Weston. He had met with them in a little perplexity, which must be +laid before Emma. It had just occurred to Mrs. Weston that Mrs. Elton +must be asked to begin the ball; that she would expect it; which +interfered with all their wishes of giving Emma that distinction.--Emma +heard the sad truth with fortitude. + +“And what are we to do for a proper partner for her?” said Mr. Weston. +“She will think Frank ought to ask her.” + +Frank turned instantly to Emma, to claim her former promise; and +boasted himself an engaged man, which his father looked his most perfect +approbation of--and it then appeared that Mrs. Weston was wanting _him_ +to dance with Mrs. Elton himself, and that their business was to help to +persuade him into it, which was done pretty soon.--Mr. Weston and Mrs. +Elton led the way, Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse followed. +Emma must submit to stand second to Mrs. Elton, though she had always +considered the ball as peculiarly for her. It was almost enough to make +her think of marrying. Mrs. Elton had undoubtedly the advantage, at this +time, in vanity completely gratified; for though she had intended to +begin with Frank Churchill, she could not lose by the change. Mr. Weston +might be his son's superior.--In spite of this little rub, however, +Emma was smiling with enjoyment, delighted to see the respectable length +of the set as it was forming, and to feel that she had so many hours +of unusual festivity before her.--She was more disturbed by Mr. +Knightley's not dancing than by any thing else.--There he was, among +the standers-by, where he ought not to be; he ought to be dancing,--not +classing himself with the husbands, and fathers, and whist-players, who +were pretending to feel an interest in the dance till their rubbers were +made up,--so young as he looked!--He could not have appeared to greater +advantage perhaps anywhere, than where he had placed himself. His tall, +firm, upright figure, among the bulky forms and stooping shoulders of +the elderly men, was such as Emma felt must draw every body's eyes; +and, excepting her own partner, there was not one among the whole row of +young men who could be compared with him.--He moved a few steps nearer, +and those few steps were enough to prove in how gentlemanlike a manner, +with what natural grace, he must have danced, would he but take the +trouble.--Whenever she caught his eye, she forced him to smile; but +in general he was looking grave. She wished he could love a ballroom +better, and could like Frank Churchill better.--He seemed often +observing her. She must not flatter herself that he thought of her +dancing, but if he were criticising her behaviour, she did not feel +afraid. There was nothing like flirtation between her and her partner. +They seemed more like cheerful, easy friends, than lovers. That Frank +Churchill thought less of her than he had done, was indubitable. + +The ball proceeded pleasantly. The anxious cares, the incessant +attentions of Mrs. Weston, were not thrown away. Every body seemed +happy; and the praise of being a delightful ball, which is seldom +bestowed till after a ball has ceased to be, was repeatedly given in +the very beginning of the existence of this. Of very important, very +recordable events, it was not more productive than such meetings usually +are. There was one, however, which Emma thought something of.--The two +last dances before supper were begun, and Harriet had no partner;--the +only young lady sitting down;--and so equal had been hitherto the +number of dancers, that how there could be any one disengaged was the +wonder!--But Emma's wonder lessened soon afterwards, on seeing Mr. Elton +sauntering about. He would not ask Harriet to dance if it were possible +to be avoided: she was sure he would not--and she was expecting him +every moment to escape into the card-room. + +Escape, however, was not his plan. He came to the part of the room where +the sitters-by were collected, spoke to some, and walked about in front +of them, as if to shew his liberty, and his resolution of maintaining +it. He did not omit being sometimes directly before Miss Smith, or +speaking to those who were close to her.--Emma saw it. She was not yet +dancing; she was working her way up from the bottom, and had therefore +leisure to look around, and by only turning her head a little she saw +it all. When she was half-way up the set, the whole group were exactly +behind her, and she would no longer allow her eyes to watch; but Mr. +Elton was so near, that she heard every syllable of a dialogue which +just then took place between him and Mrs. Weston; and she perceived that +his wife, who was standing immediately above her, was not only +listening also, but even encouraging him by significant glances.--The +kind-hearted, gentle Mrs. Weston had left her seat to join him and say, +“Do not you dance, Mr. Elton?” to which his prompt reply was, “Most +readily, Mrs. Weston, if you will dance with me.” + +“Me!--oh! no--I would get you a better partner than myself. I am no +dancer.” + +“If Mrs. Gilbert wishes to dance,” said he, “I shall have great +pleasure, I am sure--for, though beginning to feel myself rather an old +married man, and that my dancing days are over, it would give me very +great pleasure at any time to stand up with an old friend like Mrs. +Gilbert.” + +“Mrs. Gilbert does not mean to dance, but there is a young lady +disengaged whom I should be very glad to see dancing--Miss Smith.” “Miss +Smith!--oh!--I had not observed.--You are extremely obliging--and if I +were not an old married man.--But my dancing days are over, Mrs. Weston. +You will excuse me. Any thing else I should be most happy to do, at your +command--but my dancing days are over.” + +Mrs. Weston said no more; and Emma could imagine with what surprize and +mortification she must be returning to her seat. This was Mr. Elton! the +amiable, obliging, gentle Mr. Elton.--She looked round for a moment; he +had joined Mr. Knightley at a little distance, and was arranging himself +for settled conversation, while smiles of high glee passed between him +and his wife. + +She would not look again. Her heart was in a glow, and she feared her +face might be as hot. + +In another moment a happier sight caught her;--Mr. Knightley leading +Harriet to the set!--Never had she been more surprized, seldom more +delighted, than at that instant. She was all pleasure and gratitude, +both for Harriet and herself, and longed to be thanking him; and though +too distant for speech, her countenance said much, as soon as she could +catch his eye again. + +His dancing proved to be just what she had believed it, extremely good; +and Harriet would have seemed almost too lucky, if it had not been for +the cruel state of things before, and for the very complete enjoyment +and very high sense of the distinction which her happy features +announced. It was not thrown away on her, she bounded higher than ever, +flew farther down the middle, and was in a continual course of smiles. + +Mr. Elton had retreated into the card-room, looking (Emma trusted) very +foolish. She did not think he was quite so hardened as his wife, though +growing very like her;--_she_ spoke some of her feelings, by observing +audibly to her partner, + +“Knightley has taken pity on poor little Miss Smith!--Very good-natured, +I declare.” + +Supper was announced. The move began; and Miss Bates might be heard from +that moment, without interruption, till her being seated at table and +taking up her spoon. + +“Jane, Jane, my dear Jane, where are you?--Here is your tippet. Mrs. +Weston begs you to put on your tippet. She says she is afraid there will +be draughts in the passage, though every thing has been done--One door +nailed up--Quantities of matting--My dear Jane, indeed you must. +Mr. Churchill, oh! you are too obliging! How well you put it on!--so +gratified! Excellent dancing indeed!--Yes, my dear, I ran home, as I +said I should, to help grandmama to bed, and got back again, and +nobody missed me.--I set off without saying a word, just as I told you. +Grandmama was quite well, had a charming evening with Mr. Woodhouse, a +vast deal of chat, and backgammon.--Tea was made downstairs, biscuits +and baked apples and wine before she came away: amazing luck in some +of her throws: and she inquired a great deal about you, how you were +amused, and who were your partners. 'Oh!' said I, 'I shall not forestall +Jane; I left her dancing with Mr. George Otway; she will love to tell +you all about it herself to-morrow: her first partner was Mr. Elton, +I do not know who will ask her next, perhaps Mr. William Cox.' My dear +sir, you are too obliging.--Is there nobody you would not rather?--I am +not helpless. Sir, you are most kind. Upon my word, Jane on one arm, and +me on the other!--Stop, stop, let us stand a little back, Mrs. Elton is +going; dear Mrs. Elton, how elegant she looks!--Beautiful lace!--Now we +all follow in her train. Quite the queen of the evening!--Well, here we +are at the passage. Two steps, Jane, take care of the two steps. Oh! no, +there is but one. Well, I was persuaded there were two. How very odd! +I was convinced there were two, and there is but one. I never saw any +thing equal to the comfort and style--Candles everywhere.--I was telling +you of your grandmama, Jane,--There was a little disappointment.--The +baked apples and biscuits, excellent in their way, you know; but there +was a delicate fricassee of sweetbread and some asparagus brought in at +first, and good Mr. Woodhouse, not thinking the asparagus quite boiled +enough, sent it all out again. Now there is nothing grandmama loves +better than sweetbread and asparagus--so she was rather disappointed, +but we agreed we would not speak of it to any body, for fear of +its getting round to dear Miss Woodhouse, who would be so very much +concerned!--Well, this is brilliant! I am all amazement! could not have +supposed any thing!--Such elegance and profusion!--I have seen nothing +like it since--Well, where shall we sit? where shall we sit? Anywhere, +so that Jane is not in a draught. Where _I_ sit is of no consequence. +Oh! do you recommend this side?--Well, I am sure, Mr. Churchill--only +it seems too good--but just as you please. What you direct in this house +cannot be wrong. Dear Jane, how shall we ever recollect half the dishes +for grandmama? Soup too! Bless me! I should not be helped so soon, but +it smells most excellent, and I cannot help beginning.” + +Emma had no opportunity of speaking to Mr. Knightley till after supper; +but, when they were all in the ballroom again, her eyes invited +him irresistibly to come to her and be thanked. He was warm in his +reprobation of Mr. Elton's conduct; it had been unpardonable rudeness; +and Mrs. Elton's looks also received the due share of censure. + +“They aimed at wounding more than Harriet,” said he. “Emma, why is it +that they are your enemies?” + +He looked with smiling penetration; and, on receiving no answer, added, +“_She_ ought not to be angry with you, I suspect, whatever he may +be.--To that surmise, you say nothing, of course; but confess, Emma, +that you did want him to marry Harriet.” + +“I did,” replied Emma, “and they cannot forgive me.” + +He shook his head; but there was a smile of indulgence with it, and he +only said, + +“I shall not scold you. I leave you to your own reflections.” + +“Can you trust me with such flatterers?--Does my vain spirit ever tell +me I am wrong?” + +“Not your vain spirit, but your serious spirit.--If one leads you wrong, +I am sure the other tells you of it.” + +“I do own myself to have been completely mistaken in Mr. Elton. There is +a littleness about him which you discovered, and which I did not: and I +was fully convinced of his being in love with Harriet. It was through a +series of strange blunders!” + +“And, in return for your acknowledging so much, I will do you the +justice to say, that you would have chosen for him better than he has +chosen for himself.--Harriet Smith has some first-rate qualities, which +Mrs. Elton is totally without. An unpretending, single-minded, artless +girl--infinitely to be preferred by any man of sense and taste to such a +woman as Mrs. Elton. I found Harriet more conversable than I expected.” + +Emma was extremely gratified.--They were interrupted by the bustle of +Mr. Weston calling on every body to begin dancing again. + +“Come Miss Woodhouse, Miss Otway, Miss Fairfax, what are you all +doing?--Come Emma, set your companions the example. Every body is lazy! +Every body is asleep!” + +“I am ready,” said Emma, “whenever I am wanted.” + +“Whom are you going to dance with?” asked Mr. Knightley. + +She hesitated a moment, and then replied, “With you, if you will ask +me.” + +“Will you?” said he, offering his hand. + +“Indeed I will. You have shewn that you can dance, and you know we are +not really so much brother and sister as to make it at all improper.” + +“Brother and sister! no, indeed.” + + + +CHAPTER III + + +This little explanation with Mr. Knightley gave Emma considerable +pleasure. It was one of the agreeable recollections of the ball, which +she walked about the lawn the next morning to enjoy.--She was extremely +glad that they had come to so good an understanding respecting the +Eltons, and that their opinions of both husband and wife were so much +alike; and his praise of Harriet, his concession in her favour, was +peculiarly gratifying. The impertinence of the Eltons, which for a few +minutes had threatened to ruin the rest of her evening, had been the +occasion of some of its highest satisfactions; and she looked forward +to another happy result--the cure of Harriet's infatuation.--From +Harriet's manner of speaking of the circumstance before they quitted the +ballroom, she had strong hopes. It seemed as if her eyes were suddenly +opened, and she were enabled to see that Mr. Elton was not the superior +creature she had believed him. The fever was over, and Emma could +harbour little fear of the pulse being quickened again by injurious +courtesy. She depended on the evil feelings of the Eltons for +supplying all the discipline of pointed neglect that could be farther +requisite.--Harriet rational, Frank Churchill not too much in love, and +Mr. Knightley not wanting to quarrel with her, how very happy a summer +must be before her! + +She was not to see Frank Churchill this morning. He had told her that he +could not allow himself the pleasure of stopping at Hartfield, as he was +to be at home by the middle of the day. She did not regret it. + +Having arranged all these matters, looked them through, and put them all +to rights, she was just turning to the house with spirits freshened up +for the demands of the two little boys, as well as of their grandpapa, +when the great iron sweep-gate opened, and two persons entered whom she +had never less expected to see together--Frank Churchill, with Harriet +leaning on his arm--actually Harriet!--A moment sufficed to convince +her that something extraordinary had happened. Harriet looked white +and frightened, and he was trying to cheer her.--The iron gates and the +front-door were not twenty yards asunder;--they were all three soon in +the hall, and Harriet immediately sinking into a chair fainted away. + +A young lady who faints, must be recovered; questions must be answered, +and surprizes be explained. Such events are very interesting, but the +suspense of them cannot last long. A few minutes made Emma acquainted +with the whole. + +Miss Smith, and Miss Bickerton, another parlour boarder at Mrs. +Goddard's, who had been also at the ball, had walked out together, and +taken a road, the Richmond road, which, though apparently public enough +for safety, had led them into alarm.--About half a mile beyond Highbury, +making a sudden turn, and deeply shaded by elms on each side, it became +for a considerable stretch very retired; and when the young ladies +had advanced some way into it, they had suddenly perceived at a small +distance before them, on a broader patch of greensward by the side, a +party of gipsies. A child on the watch, came towards them to beg; and +Miss Bickerton, excessively frightened, gave a great scream, and calling +on Harriet to follow her, ran up a steep bank, cleared a slight hedge at +the top, and made the best of her way by a short cut back to Highbury. +But poor Harriet could not follow. She had suffered very much from cramp +after dancing, and her first attempt to mount the bank brought on such +a return of it as made her absolutely powerless--and in this state, and +exceedingly terrified, she had been obliged to remain. + +How the trampers might have behaved, had the young ladies been more +courageous, must be doubtful; but such an invitation for attack could +not be resisted; and Harriet was soon assailed by half a dozen children, +headed by a stout woman and a great boy, all clamorous, and impertinent +in look, though not absolutely in word.--More and more frightened, she +immediately promised them money, and taking out her purse, gave them a +shilling, and begged them not to want more, or to use her ill.--She +was then able to walk, though but slowly, and was moving away--but her +terror and her purse were too tempting, and she was followed, or rather +surrounded, by the whole gang, demanding more. + +In this state Frank Churchill had found her, she trembling and +conditioning, they loud and insolent. By a most fortunate chance his +leaving Highbury had been delayed so as to bring him to her assistance +at this critical moment. The pleasantness of the morning had induced +him to walk forward, and leave his horses to meet him by another road, +a mile or two beyond Highbury--and happening to have borrowed a pair +of scissors the night before of Miss Bates, and to have forgotten to +restore them, he had been obliged to stop at her door, and go in for a +few minutes: he was therefore later than he had intended; and being +on foot, was unseen by the whole party till almost close to them. The +terror which the woman and boy had been creating in Harriet was then +their own portion. He had left them completely frightened; and Harriet +eagerly clinging to him, and hardly able to speak, had just strength +enough to reach Hartfield, before her spirits were quite overcome. +It was his idea to bring her to Hartfield: he had thought of no other +place. + +This was the amount of the whole story,--of his communication and of +Harriet's as soon as she had recovered her senses and speech.--He dared +not stay longer than to see her well; these several delays left him +not another minute to lose; and Emma engaging to give assurance of her +safety to Mrs. Goddard, and notice of there being such a set of people +in the neighbourhood to Mr. Knightley, he set off, with all the grateful +blessings that she could utter for her friend and herself. + +Such an adventure as this,--a fine young man and a lovely young woman +thrown together in such a way, could hardly fail of suggesting certain +ideas to the coldest heart and the steadiest brain. So Emma thought, at +least. Could a linguist, could a grammarian, could even a mathematician +have seen what she did, have witnessed their appearance together, and +heard their history of it, without feeling that circumstances had been +at work to make them peculiarly interesting to each other?--How much +more must an imaginist, like herself, be on fire with speculation and +foresight!--especially with such a groundwork of anticipation as her +mind had already made. + +It was a very extraordinary thing! Nothing of the sort had ever +occurred before to any young ladies in the place, within her memory; no +rencontre, no alarm of the kind;--and now it had happened to the very +person, and at the very hour, when the other very person was chancing +to pass by to rescue her!--It certainly was very extraordinary!--And +knowing, as she did, the favourable state of mind of each at this +period, it struck her the more. He was wishing to get the better of his +attachment to herself, she just recovering from her mania for Mr. Elton. +It seemed as if every thing united to promise the most interesting +consequences. It was not possible that the occurrence should not be +strongly recommending each to the other. + +In the few minutes' conversation which she had yet had with him, while +Harriet had been partially insensible, he had spoken of her terror, +her naivete, her fervour as she seized and clung to his arm, with a +sensibility amused and delighted; and just at last, after Harriet's +own account had been given, he had expressed his indignation at the +abominable folly of Miss Bickerton in the warmest terms. Every thing was +to take its natural course, however, neither impelled nor assisted. +She would not stir a step, nor drop a hint. No, she had had enough of +interference. There could be no harm in a scheme, a mere passive scheme. +It was no more than a wish. Beyond it she would on no account proceed. + +Emma's first resolution was to keep her father from the knowledge of +what had passed,--aware of the anxiety and alarm it would occasion: but +she soon felt that concealment must be impossible. Within half an hour +it was known all over Highbury. It was the very event to engage those +who talk most, the young and the low; and all the youth and servants in +the place were soon in the happiness of frightful news. The last night's +ball seemed lost in the gipsies. Poor Mr. Woodhouse trembled as he sat, +and, as Emma had foreseen, would scarcely be satisfied without their +promising never to go beyond the shrubbery again. It was some comfort +to him that many inquiries after himself and Miss Woodhouse (for his +neighbours knew that he loved to be inquired after), as well as Miss +Smith, were coming in during the rest of the day; and he had +the pleasure of returning for answer, that they were all very +indifferent--which, though not exactly true, for she was perfectly well, +and Harriet not much otherwise, Emma would not interfere with. She had +an unhappy state of health in general for the child of such a man, +for she hardly knew what indisposition was; and if he did not invent +illnesses for her, she could make no figure in a message. + +The gipsies did not wait for the operations of justice; they took +themselves off in a hurry. The young ladies of Highbury might have +walked again in safety before their panic began, and the whole history +dwindled soon into a matter of little importance but to Emma and her +nephews:--in her imagination it maintained its ground, and Henry and +John were still asking every day for the story of Harriet and the +gipsies, and still tenaciously setting her right if she varied in the +slightest particular from the original recital. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +A very few days had passed after this adventure, when Harriet came one +morning to Emma with a small parcel in her hand, and after sitting down +and hesitating, thus began: + +“Miss Woodhouse--if you are at leisure--I have something that I should +like to tell you--a sort of confession to make--and then, you know, it +will be over.” + +Emma was a good deal surprized; but begged her to speak. There was a +seriousness in Harriet's manner which prepared her, quite as much as her +words, for something more than ordinary. + +“It is my duty, and I am sure it is my wish,” she continued, “to have +no reserves with you on this subject. As I am happily quite an altered +creature in _one_ _respect_, it is very fit that you should have +the satisfaction of knowing it. I do not want to say more than is +necessary--I am too much ashamed of having given way as I have done, and +I dare say you understand me.” + +“Yes,” said Emma, “I hope I do.” + +“How I could so long a time be fancying myself!...” cried Harriet, +warmly. “It seems like madness! I can see nothing at all extraordinary +in him now.--I do not care whether I meet him or not--except that of the +two I had rather not see him--and indeed I would go any distance round +to avoid him--but I do not envy his wife in the least; I neither admire +her nor envy her, as I have done: she is very charming, I dare say, and +all that, but I think her very ill-tempered and disagreeable--I shall +never forget her look the other night!--However, I assure you, Miss +Woodhouse, I wish her no evil.--No, let them be ever so happy together, +it will not give me another moment's pang: and to convince you that I +have been speaking truth, I am now going to destroy--what I ought to +have destroyed long ago--what I ought never to have kept--I know that +very well (blushing as she spoke).--However, now I will destroy it +all--and it is my particular wish to do it in your presence, that you +may see how rational I am grown. Cannot you guess what this parcel +holds?” said she, with a conscious look. + +“Not the least in the world.--Did he ever give you any thing?” + +“No--I cannot call them gifts; but they are things that I have valued +very much.” + +She held the parcel towards her, and Emma read the words _Most_ +_precious_ _treasures_ on the top. Her curiosity was greatly excited. +Harriet unfolded the parcel, and she looked on with impatience. Within +abundance of silver paper was a pretty little Tunbridge-ware box, +which Harriet opened: it was well lined with the softest cotton; but, +excepting the cotton, Emma saw only a small piece of court-plaister. + +“Now,” said Harriet, “you _must_ recollect.” + +“No, indeed I do not.” + +“Dear me! I should not have thought it possible you could forget what +passed in this very room about court-plaister, one of the very last +times we ever met in it!--It was but a very few days before I had my +sore throat--just before Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley came--I think the +very evening.--Do not you remember his cutting his finger with your new +penknife, and your recommending court-plaister?--But, as you had none +about you, and knew I had, you desired me to supply him; and so I took +mine out and cut him a piece; but it was a great deal too large, and he +cut it smaller, and kept playing some time with what was left, before he +gave it back to me. And so then, in my nonsense, I could not help making +a treasure of it--so I put it by never to be used, and looked at it now +and then as a great treat.” + +“My dearest Harriet!” cried Emma, putting her hand before her face, +and jumping up, “you make me more ashamed of myself than I can bear. +Remember it? Aye, I remember it all now; all, except your saving this +relic--I knew nothing of that till this moment--but the cutting the +finger, and my recommending court-plaister, and saying I had none +about me!--Oh! my sins, my sins!--And I had plenty all the while in my +pocket!--One of my senseless tricks!--I deserve to be under a continual +blush all the rest of my life.--Well--(sitting down again)--go on--what +else?” + +“And had you really some at hand yourself? I am sure I never suspected +it, you did it so naturally.” + +“And so you actually put this piece of court-plaister by for his sake!” + said Emma, recovering from her state of shame and feeling divided +between wonder and amusement. And secretly she added to herself, “Lord +bless me! when should I ever have thought of putting by in cotton a +piece of court-plaister that Frank Churchill had been pulling about! I +never was equal to this.” + +“Here,” resumed Harriet, turning to her box again, “here is something +still more valuable, I mean that _has_ _been_ more valuable, because +this is what did really once belong to him, which the court-plaister +never did.” + +Emma was quite eager to see this superior treasure. It was the end of an +old pencil,--the part without any lead. + +“This was really his,” said Harriet.--“Do not you remember one +morning?--no, I dare say you do not. But one morning--I forget exactly +the day--but perhaps it was the Tuesday or Wednesday before _that_ +_evening_, he wanted to make a memorandum in his pocket-book; it was +about spruce-beer. Mr. Knightley had been telling him something about +brewing spruce-beer, and he wanted to put it down; but when he took out +his pencil, there was so little lead that he soon cut it all away, and +it would not do, so you lent him another, and this was left upon the +table as good for nothing. But I kept my eye on it; and, as soon as I +dared, caught it up, and never parted with it again from that moment.” + +“I do remember it,” cried Emma; “I perfectly remember it.--Talking +about spruce-beer.--Oh! yes--Mr. Knightley and I both saying we +liked it, and Mr. Elton's seeming resolved to learn to like it too. I +perfectly remember it.--Stop; Mr. Knightley was standing just here, was +not he? I have an idea he was standing just here.” + +“Ah! I do not know. I cannot recollect.--It is very odd, but I cannot +recollect.--Mr. Elton was sitting here, I remember, much about where I +am now.”-- + +“Well, go on.” + +“Oh! that's all. I have nothing more to shew you, or to say--except that +I am now going to throw them both behind the fire, and I wish you to see +me do it.” + +“My poor dear Harriet! and have you actually found happiness in +treasuring up these things?” + +“Yes, simpleton as I was!--but I am quite ashamed of it now, and wish I +could forget as easily as I can burn them. It was very wrong of me, you +know, to keep any remembrances, after he was married. I knew it was--but +had not resolution enough to part with them.” + +“But, Harriet, is it necessary to burn the court-plaister?--I have not +a word to say for the bit of old pencil, but the court-plaister might be +useful.” + +“I shall be happier to burn it,” replied Harriet. “It has a disagreeable +look to me. I must get rid of every thing.--There it goes, and there is +an end, thank Heaven! of Mr. Elton.” + +“And when,” thought Emma, “will there be a beginning of Mr. Churchill?” + +She had soon afterwards reason to believe that the beginning was already +made, and could not but hope that the gipsy, though she had _told_ no +fortune, might be proved to have made Harriet's.--About a fortnight +after the alarm, they came to a sufficient explanation, and quite +undesignedly. Emma was not thinking of it at the moment, which made the +information she received more valuable. She merely said, in the course +of some trivial chat, “Well, Harriet, whenever you marry I would advise +you to do so and so”--and thought no more of it, till after a minute's +silence she heard Harriet say in a very serious tone, “I shall never +marry.” + +Emma then looked up, and immediately saw how it was; and after a +moment's debate, as to whether it should pass unnoticed or not, replied, + +“Never marry!--This is a new resolution.” + +“It is one that I shall never change, however.” + +After another short hesitation, “I hope it does not proceed from--I hope +it is not in compliment to Mr. Elton?” + +“Mr. Elton indeed!” cried Harriet indignantly.--“Oh! no”--and Emma could +just catch the words, “so superior to Mr. Elton!” + +She then took a longer time for consideration. Should she proceed no +farther?--should she let it pass, and seem to suspect nothing?--Perhaps +Harriet might think her cold or angry if she did; or perhaps if she were +totally silent, it might only drive Harriet into asking her to hear too +much; and against any thing like such an unreserve as had been, such +an open and frequent discussion of hopes and chances, she was perfectly +resolved.--She believed it would be wiser for her to say and know at +once, all that she meant to say and know. Plain dealing was always +best. She had previously determined how far she would proceed, on any +application of the sort; and it would be safer for both, to have the +judicious law of her own brain laid down with speed.--She was decided, +and thus spoke-- + +“Harriet, I will not affect to be in doubt of your meaning. Your +resolution, or rather your expectation of never marrying, results from +an idea that the person whom you might prefer, would be too greatly your +superior in situation to think of you. Is not it so?” + +“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, believe me I have not the presumption to suppose-- +Indeed I am not so mad.--But it is a pleasure to me to admire him at a +distance--and to think of his infinite superiority to all the rest of +the world, with the gratitude, wonder, and veneration, which are so +proper, in me especially.” + +“I am not at all surprized at you, Harriet. The service he rendered you +was enough to warm your heart.” + +“Service! oh! it was such an inexpressible obligation!--The very +recollection of it, and all that I felt at the time--when I saw him +coming--his noble look--and my wretchedness before. Such a change! In +one moment such a change! From perfect misery to perfect happiness!” + +“It is very natural. It is natural, and it is honourable.--Yes, +honourable, I think, to chuse so well and so gratefully.--But that +it will be a fortunate preference is more than I can promise. I do not +advise you to give way to it, Harriet. I do not by any means engage +for its being returned. Consider what you are about. Perhaps it will be +wisest in you to check your feelings while you can: at any rate do not +let them carry you far, unless you are persuaded of his liking you. Be +observant of him. Let his behaviour be the guide of your sensations. I +give you this caution now, because I shall never speak to you again on +the subject. I am determined against all interference. Henceforward I +know nothing of the matter. Let no name ever pass our lips. We were very +wrong before; we will be cautious now.--He is your superior, no doubt, +and there do seem objections and obstacles of a very serious nature; but +yet, Harriet, more wonderful things have taken place, there have been +matches of greater disparity. But take care of yourself. I would not +have you too sanguine; though, however it may end, be assured your +raising your thoughts to _him_, is a mark of good taste which I shall +always know how to value.” + +Harriet kissed her hand in silent and submissive gratitude. Emma was +very decided in thinking such an attachment no bad thing for her friend. +Its tendency would be to raise and refine her mind--and it must be +saving her from the danger of degradation. + + + +CHAPTER V + + +In this state of schemes, and hopes, and connivance, June opened upon +Hartfield. To Highbury in general it brought no material change. The +Eltons were still talking of a visit from the Sucklings, and of the use +to be made of their barouche-landau; and Jane Fairfax was still at her +grandmother's; and as the return of the Campbells from Ireland was again +delayed, and August, instead of Midsummer, fixed for it, she was likely +to remain there full two months longer, provided at least she were able +to defeat Mrs. Elton's activity in her service, and save herself from +being hurried into a delightful situation against her will. + +Mr. Knightley, who, for some reason best known to himself, had certainly +taken an early dislike to Frank Churchill, was only growing to dislike +him more. He began to suspect him of some double dealing in his pursuit +of Emma. That Emma was his object appeared indisputable. Every thing +declared it; his own attentions, his father's hints, his mother-in-law's +guarded silence; it was all in unison; words, conduct, discretion, and +indiscretion, told the same story. But while so many were devoting him +to Emma, and Emma herself making him over to Harriet, Mr. Knightley +began to suspect him of some inclination to trifle with Jane Fairfax. He +could not understand it; but there were symptoms of intelligence between +them--he thought so at least--symptoms of admiration on his side, which, +having once observed, he could not persuade himself to think entirely +void of meaning, however he might wish to escape any of Emma's errors +of imagination. _She_ was not present when the suspicion first arose. +He was dining with the Randalls family, and Jane, at the Eltons'; and he +had seen a look, more than a single look, at Miss Fairfax, which, from +the admirer of Miss Woodhouse, seemed somewhat out of place. When he was +again in their company, he could not help remembering what he had seen; +nor could he avoid observations which, unless it were like Cowper and +his fire at twilight, + +“Myself creating what I saw,” + +brought him yet stronger suspicion of there being a something of private +liking, of private understanding even, between Frank Churchill and Jane. + +He had walked up one day after dinner, as he very often did, to spend +his evening at Hartfield. Emma and Harriet were going to walk; he joined +them; and, on returning, they fell in with a larger party, who, like +themselves, judged it wisest to take their exercise early, as the +weather threatened rain; Mr. and Mrs. Weston and their son, Miss Bates +and her niece, who had accidentally met. They all united; and, on +reaching Hartfield gates, Emma, who knew it was exactly the sort of +visiting that would be welcome to her father, pressed them all to go in +and drink tea with him. The Randalls party agreed to it immediately; and +after a pretty long speech from Miss Bates, which few persons listened +to, she also found it possible to accept dear Miss Woodhouse's most +obliging invitation. + +As they were turning into the grounds, Mr. Perry passed by on horseback. +The gentlemen spoke of his horse. + +“By the bye,” said Frank Churchill to Mrs. Weston presently, “what +became of Mr. Perry's plan of setting up his carriage?” + +Mrs. Weston looked surprized, and said, “I did not know that he ever had +any such plan.” + +“Nay, I had it from you. You wrote me word of it three months ago.” + +“Me! impossible!” + +“Indeed you did. I remember it perfectly. You mentioned it as what +was certainly to be very soon. Mrs. Perry had told somebody, and was +extremely happy about it. It was owing to _her_ persuasion, as she +thought his being out in bad weather did him a great deal of harm. You +must remember it now?” + +“Upon my word I never heard of it till this moment.” + +“Never! really, never!--Bless me! how could it be?--Then I must have +dreamt it--but I was completely persuaded--Miss Smith, you walk as if +you were tired. You will not be sorry to find yourself at home.” + +“What is this?--What is this?” cried Mr. Weston, “about Perry and a +carriage? Is Perry going to set up his carriage, Frank? I am glad he can +afford it. You had it from himself, had you?” + +“No, sir,” replied his son, laughing, “I seem to have had it from +nobody.--Very odd!--I really was persuaded of Mrs. Weston's having +mentioned it in one of her letters to Enscombe, many weeks ago, with all +these particulars--but as she declares she never heard a syllable of +it before, of course it must have been a dream. I am a great dreamer. +I dream of every body at Highbury when I am away--and when I have gone +through my particular friends, then I begin dreaming of Mr. and Mrs. +Perry.” + +“It is odd though,” observed his father, “that you should have had such +a regular connected dream about people whom it was not very likely you +should be thinking of at Enscombe. Perry's setting up his carriage! and +his wife's persuading him to it, out of care for his health--just +what will happen, I have no doubt, some time or other; only a little +premature. What an air of probability sometimes runs through a dream! +And at others, what a heap of absurdities it is! Well, Frank, your dream +certainly shews that Highbury is in your thoughts when you are absent. +Emma, you are a great dreamer, I think?” + +Emma was out of hearing. She had hurried on before her guests to +prepare her father for their appearance, and was beyond the reach of Mr. +Weston's hint. + +“Why, to own the truth,” cried Miss Bates, who had been trying in vain +to be heard the last two minutes, “if I must speak on this subject, +there is no denying that Mr. Frank Churchill might have--I do not mean +to say that he did not dream it--I am sure I have sometimes the oddest +dreams in the world--but if I am questioned about it, I must acknowledge +that there was such an idea last spring; for Mrs. Perry herself +mentioned it to my mother, and the Coles knew of it as well as +ourselves--but it was quite a secret, known to nobody else, and only +thought of about three days. Mrs. Perry was very anxious that he should +have a carriage, and came to my mother in great spirits one morning +because she thought she had prevailed. Jane, don't you remember +grandmama's telling us of it when we got home? I forget where we +had been walking to--very likely to Randalls; yes, I think it was to +Randalls. Mrs. Perry was always particularly fond of my mother--indeed +I do not know who is not--and she had mentioned it to her in confidence; +she had no objection to her telling us, of course, but it was not to go +beyond: and, from that day to this, I never mentioned it to a soul that +I know of. At the same time, I will not positively answer for my having +never dropt a hint, because I know I do sometimes pop out a thing before +I am aware. I am a talker, you know; I am rather a talker; and now and +then I have let a thing escape me which I should not. I am not like +Jane; I wish I were. I will answer for it _she_ never betrayed the least +thing in the world. Where is she?--Oh! just behind. Perfectly remember +Mrs. Perry's coming.--Extraordinary dream, indeed!” + +They were entering the hall. Mr. Knightley's eyes had preceded Miss +Bates's in a glance at Jane. From Frank Churchill's face, where +he thought he saw confusion suppressed or laughed away, he had +involuntarily turned to hers; but she was indeed behind, and too busy +with her shawl. Mr. Weston had walked in. The two other gentlemen waited +at the door to let her pass. Mr. Knightley suspected in Frank +Churchill the determination of catching her eye--he seemed watching her +intently--in vain, however, if it were so--Jane passed between them +into the hall, and looked at neither. + +There was no time for farther remark or explanation. The dream must be +borne with, and Mr. Knightley must take his seat with the rest round the +large modern circular table which Emma had introduced at Hartfield, and +which none but Emma could have had power to place there and persuade her +father to use, instead of the small-sized Pembroke, on which two of his +daily meals had, for forty years been crowded. Tea passed pleasantly, +and nobody seemed in a hurry to move. + +“Miss Woodhouse,” said Frank Churchill, after examining a table behind +him, which he could reach as he sat, “have your nephews taken away their +alphabets--their box of letters? It used to stand here. Where is it? +This is a sort of dull-looking evening, that ought to be treated rather +as winter than summer. We had great amusement with those letters one +morning. I want to puzzle you again.” + +Emma was pleased with the thought; and producing the box, the table +was quickly scattered over with alphabets, which no one seemed so much +disposed to employ as their two selves. They were rapidly forming words +for each other, or for any body else who would be puzzled. The quietness +of the game made it particularly eligible for Mr. Woodhouse, who had +often been distressed by the more animated sort, which Mr. Weston had +occasionally introduced, and who now sat happily occupied in lamenting, +with tender melancholy, over the departure of the “poor little boys,” + or in fondly pointing out, as he took up any stray letter near him, how +beautifully Emma had written it. + +Frank Churchill placed a word before Miss Fairfax. She gave a slight +glance round the table, and applied herself to it. Frank was next to +Emma, Jane opposite to them--and Mr. Knightley so placed as to see them +all; and it was his object to see as much as he could, with as little +apparent observation. The word was discovered, and with a faint smile +pushed away. If meant to be immediately mixed with the others, and +buried from sight, she should have looked on the table instead of +looking just across, for it was not mixed; and Harriet, eager after +every fresh word, and finding out none, directly took it up, and fell to +work. She was sitting by Mr. Knightley, and turned to him for help. The +word was _blunder_; and as Harriet exultingly proclaimed it, there was a +blush on Jane's cheek which gave it a meaning not otherwise ostensible. +Mr. Knightley connected it with the dream; but how it could all be, +was beyond his comprehension. How the delicacy, the discretion of his +favourite could have been so lain asleep! He feared there must be some +decided involvement. Disingenuousness and double dealing seemed to meet +him at every turn. These letters were but the vehicle for gallantry and +trick. It was a child's play, chosen to conceal a deeper game on Frank +Churchill's part. + +With great indignation did he continue to observe him; with great alarm +and distrust, to observe also his two blinded companions. He saw a short +word prepared for Emma, and given to her with a look sly and demure. He +saw that Emma had soon made it out, and found it highly entertaining, +though it was something which she judged it proper to appear to censure; +for she said, “Nonsense! for shame!” He heard Frank Churchill next say, +with a glance towards Jane, “I will give it to her--shall I?”--and as +clearly heard Emma opposing it with eager laughing warmth. “No, no, you +must not; you shall not, indeed.” + +It was done however. This gallant young man, who seemed to love without +feeling, and to recommend himself without complaisance, directly handed +over the word to Miss Fairfax, and with a particular degree of sedate +civility entreated her to study it. Mr. Knightley's excessive curiosity +to know what this word might be, made him seize every possible moment +for darting his eye towards it, and it was not long before he saw it +to be _Dixon_. Jane Fairfax's perception seemed to accompany his; +her comprehension was certainly more equal to the covert meaning, +the superior intelligence, of those five letters so arranged. She was +evidently displeased; looked up, and seeing herself watched, blushed +more deeply than he had ever perceived her, and saying only, “I did not +know that proper names were allowed,” pushed away the letters with even +an angry spirit, and looked resolved to be engaged by no other word +that could be offered. Her face was averted from those who had made the +attack, and turned towards her aunt. + +“Aye, very true, my dear,” cried the latter, though Jane had not spoken +a word--“I was just going to say the same thing. It is time for us to be +going indeed. The evening is closing in, and grandmama will be looking +for us. My dear sir, you are too obliging. We really must wish you good +night.” + +Jane's alertness in moving, proved her as ready as her aunt had +preconceived. She was immediately up, and wanting to quit the table; but +so many were also moving, that she could not get away; and Mr. Knightley +thought he saw another collection of letters anxiously pushed towards +her, and resolutely swept away by her unexamined. She was afterwards +looking for her shawl--Frank Churchill was looking also--it was growing +dusk, and the room was in confusion; and how they parted, Mr. Knightley +could not tell. + +He remained at Hartfield after all the rest, his thoughts full of +what he had seen; so full, that when the candles came to assist his +observations, he must--yes, he certainly must, as a friend--an anxious +friend--give Emma some hint, ask her some question. He could not see her +in a situation of such danger, without trying to preserve her. It was +his duty. + +“Pray, Emma,” said he, “may I ask in what lay the great amusement, the +poignant sting of the last word given to you and Miss Fairfax? I saw the +word, and am curious to know how it could be so very entertaining to the +one, and so very distressing to the other.” + +Emma was extremely confused. She could not endure to give him the true +explanation; for though her suspicions were by no means removed, she was +really ashamed of having ever imparted them. + +“Oh!” she cried in evident embarrassment, “it all meant nothing; a mere +joke among ourselves.” + +“The joke,” he replied gravely, “seemed confined to you and Mr. +Churchill.” + +He had hoped she would speak again, but she did not. She would rather +busy herself about any thing than speak. He sat a little while in +doubt. A variety of evils crossed his mind. Interference--fruitless +interference. Emma's confusion, and the acknowledged intimacy, seemed to +declare her affection engaged. Yet he would speak. He owed it to her, +to risk any thing that might be involved in an unwelcome interference, +rather than her welfare; to encounter any thing, rather than the +remembrance of neglect in such a cause. + +“My dear Emma,” said he at last, with earnest kindness, “do you +think you perfectly understand the degree of acquaintance between the +gentleman and lady we have been speaking of?” + +“Between Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax? Oh! yes, perfectly.--Why +do you make a doubt of it?” + +“Have you never at any time had reason to think that he admired her, or +that she admired him?” + +“Never, never!” she cried with a most open eagerness--“Never, for the +twentieth part of a moment, did such an idea occur to me. And how could +it possibly come into your head?” + +“I have lately imagined that I saw symptoms of attachment between +them--certain expressive looks, which I did not believe meant to be +public.” + +“Oh! you amuse me excessively. I am delighted to find that you can +vouchsafe to let your imagination wander--but it will not do--very sorry +to check you in your first essay--but indeed it will not do. There is no +admiration between them, I do assure you; and the appearances which +have caught you, have arisen from some peculiar circumstances--feelings +rather of a totally different nature--it is impossible exactly to +explain:--there is a good deal of nonsense in it--but the part which is +capable of being communicated, which is sense, is, that they are as far +from any attachment or admiration for one another, as any two beings in +the world can be. That is, I _presume_ it to be so on her side, and I +can _answer_ for its being so on his. I will answer for the gentleman's +indifference.” + +She spoke with a confidence which staggered, with a satisfaction +which silenced, Mr. Knightley. She was in gay spirits, and would have +prolonged the conversation, wanting to hear the particulars of his +suspicions, every look described, and all the wheres and hows of a +circumstance which highly entertained her: but his gaiety did not meet +hers. He found he could not be useful, and his feelings were too much +irritated for talking. That he might not be irritated into an absolute +fever, by the fire which Mr. Woodhouse's tender habits required almost +every evening throughout the year, he soon afterwards took a hasty +leave, and walked home to the coolness and solitude of Donwell Abbey. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +After being long fed with hopes of a speedy visit from Mr. and Mrs. +Suckling, the Highbury world were obliged to endure the mortification +of hearing that they could not possibly come till the autumn. No such +importation of novelties could enrich their intellectual stores at +present. In the daily interchange of news, they must be again restricted +to the other topics with which for a while the Sucklings' coming had +been united, such as the last accounts of Mrs. Churchill, whose health +seemed every day to supply a different report, and the situation of Mrs. +Weston, whose happiness it was to be hoped might eventually be as much +increased by the arrival of a child, as that of all her neighbours was +by the approach of it. + +Mrs. Elton was very much disappointed. It was the delay of a great deal +of pleasure and parade. Her introductions and recommendations must all +wait, and every projected party be still only talked of. So she thought +at first;--but a little consideration convinced her that every thing +need not be put off. Why should not they explore to Box Hill though +the Sucklings did not come? They could go there again with them in the +autumn. It was settled that they should go to Box Hill. That there was +to be such a party had been long generally known: it had even given the +idea of another. Emma had never been to Box Hill; she wished to see what +every body found so well worth seeing, and she and Mr. Weston had agreed +to chuse some fine morning and drive thither. Two or three more of the +chosen only were to be admitted to join them, and it was to be done in a +quiet, unpretending, elegant way, infinitely superior to the bustle and +preparation, the regular eating and drinking, and picnic parade of the +Eltons and the Sucklings. + +This was so very well understood between them, that Emma could not but +feel some surprise, and a little displeasure, on hearing from Mr. Weston +that he had been proposing to Mrs. Elton, as her brother and sister had +failed her, that the two parties should unite, and go together; and that +as Mrs. Elton had very readily acceded to it, so it was to be, if she +had no objection. Now, as her objection was nothing but her very great +dislike of Mrs. Elton, of which Mr. Weston must already be perfectly +aware, it was not worth bringing forward again:--it could not be done +without a reproof to him, which would be giving pain to his wife; and +she found herself therefore obliged to consent to an arrangement which +she would have done a great deal to avoid; an arrangement which would +probably expose her even to the degradation of being said to be of Mrs. +Elton's party! Every feeling was offended; and the forbearance of her +outward submission left a heavy arrear due of secret severity in her +reflections on the unmanageable goodwill of Mr. Weston's temper. + +“I am glad you approve of what I have done,” said he very comfortably. +“But I thought you would. Such schemes as these are nothing without +numbers. One cannot have too large a party. A large party secures its +own amusement. And she is a good-natured woman after all. One could not +leave her out.” + +Emma denied none of it aloud, and agreed to none of it in private. + +It was now the middle of June, and the weather fine; and Mrs. Elton +was growing impatient to name the day, and settle with Mr. Weston as to +pigeon-pies and cold lamb, when a lame carriage-horse threw every thing +into sad uncertainty. It might be weeks, it might be only a few days, +before the horse were useable; but no preparations could be ventured +on, and it was all melancholy stagnation. Mrs. Elton's resources were +inadequate to such an attack. + +“Is not this most vexatious, Knightley?” she cried.--“And such weather +for exploring!--These delays and disappointments are quite odious. What +are we to do?--The year will wear away at this rate, and nothing +done. Before this time last year I assure you we had had a delightful +exploring party from Maple Grove to Kings Weston.” + +“You had better explore to Donwell,” replied Mr. Knightley. “That may +be done without horses. Come, and eat my strawberries. They are ripening +fast.” + +If Mr. Knightley did not begin seriously, he was obliged to proceed so, +for his proposal was caught at with delight; and the “Oh! I should like +it of all things,” was not plainer in words than manner. Donwell was +famous for its strawberry-beds, which seemed a plea for the invitation: +but no plea was necessary; cabbage-beds would have been enough to tempt +the lady, who only wanted to be going somewhere. She promised him again +and again to come--much oftener than he doubted--and was extremely +gratified by such a proof of intimacy, such a distinguishing compliment +as she chose to consider it. + +“You may depend upon me,” said she. “I certainly will come. Name your +day, and I will come. You will allow me to bring Jane Fairfax?” + +“I cannot name a day,” said he, “till I have spoken to some others whom +I would wish to meet you.” + +“Oh! leave all that to me. Only give me a carte-blanche.--I am Lady +Patroness, you know. It is my party. I will bring friends with me.” + +“I hope you will bring Elton,” said he: “but I will not trouble you to +give any other invitations.” + +“Oh! now you are looking very sly. But consider--you need not be afraid +of delegating power to _me_. I am no young lady on her preferment. +Married women, you know, may be safely authorised. It is my party. Leave +it all to me. I will invite your guests.” + +“No,”--he calmly replied,--“there is but one married woman in the world +whom I can ever allow to invite what guests she pleases to Donwell, and +that one is--” + +“--Mrs. Weston, I suppose,” interrupted Mrs. Elton, rather mortified. + +“No--Mrs. Knightley;--and till she is in being, I will manage such +matters myself.” + +“Ah! you are an odd creature!” she cried, satisfied to have no one +preferred to herself.--“You are a humourist, and may say what you +like. Quite a humourist. Well, I shall bring Jane with me--Jane and her +aunt.--The rest I leave to you. I have no objections at all to meeting +the Hartfield family. Don't scruple. I know you are attached to them.” + +“You certainly will meet them if I can prevail; and I shall call on Miss +Bates in my way home.” + +“That's quite unnecessary; I see Jane every day:--but as you like. It +is to be a morning scheme, you know, Knightley; quite a simple thing. I +shall wear a large bonnet, and bring one of my little baskets hanging +on my arm. Here,--probably this basket with pink ribbon. Nothing can be +more simple, you see. And Jane will have such another. There is to be +no form or parade--a sort of gipsy party. We are to walk about +your gardens, and gather the strawberries ourselves, and sit under +trees;--and whatever else you may like to provide, it is to be all out +of doors--a table spread in the shade, you know. Every thing as natural +and simple as possible. Is not that your idea?” + +“Not quite. My idea of the simple and the natural will be to have +the table spread in the dining-room. The nature and the simplicity of +gentlemen and ladies, with their servants and furniture, I think is +best observed by meals within doors. When you are tired of eating +strawberries in the garden, there shall be cold meat in the house.” + +“Well--as you please; only don't have a great set out. And, by the bye, +can I or my housekeeper be of any use to you with our opinion?--Pray be +sincere, Knightley. If you wish me to talk to Mrs. Hodges, or to inspect +anything--” + +“I have not the least wish for it, I thank you.” + +“Well--but if any difficulties should arise, my housekeeper is extremely +clever.” + +“I will answer for it, that mine thinks herself full as clever, and +would spurn any body's assistance.” + +“I wish we had a donkey. The thing would be for us all to come on +donkeys, Jane, Miss Bates, and me--and my caro sposo walking by. I +really must talk to him about purchasing a donkey. In a country life +I conceive it to be a sort of necessary; for, let a woman have ever +so many resources, it is not possible for her to be always shut up at +home;--and very long walks, you know--in summer there is dust, and in +winter there is dirt.” + +“You will not find either, between Donwell and Highbury. Donwell Lane is +never dusty, and now it is perfectly dry. Come on a donkey, however, if +you prefer it. You can borrow Mrs. Cole's. I would wish every thing to +be as much to your taste as possible.” + +“That I am sure you would. Indeed I do you justice, my good friend. +Under that peculiar sort of dry, blunt manner, I know you have the +warmest heart. As I tell Mr. E., you are a thorough humourist.--Yes, +believe me, Knightley, I am fully sensible of your attention to me in +the whole of this scheme. You have hit upon the very thing to please +me.” + +Mr. Knightley had another reason for avoiding a table in the shade. He +wished to persuade Mr. Woodhouse, as well as Emma, to join the party; +and he knew that to have any of them sitting down out of doors to +eat would inevitably make him ill. Mr. Woodhouse must not, under the +specious pretence of a morning drive, and an hour or two spent at +Donwell, be tempted away to his misery. + +He was invited on good faith. No lurking horrors were to upbraid him for +his easy credulity. He did consent. He had not been at Donwell for two +years. “Some very fine morning, he, and Emma, and Harriet, could go +very well; and he could sit still with Mrs. Weston, while the dear girls +walked about the gardens. He did not suppose they could be damp now, +in the middle of the day. He should like to see the old house again +exceedingly, and should be very happy to meet Mr. and Mrs. Elton, and +any other of his neighbours.--He could not see any objection at all to +his, and Emma's, and Harriet's going there some very fine morning. He +thought it very well done of Mr. Knightley to invite them--very kind +and sensible--much cleverer than dining out.--He was not fond of dining +out.” + +Mr. Knightley was fortunate in every body's most ready concurrence. The +invitation was everywhere so well received, that it seemed as if, like +Mrs. Elton, they were all taking the scheme as a particular compliment +to themselves.--Emma and Harriet professed very high expectations of +pleasure from it; and Mr. Weston, unasked, promised to get Frank over to +join them, if possible; a proof of approbation and gratitude which could +have been dispensed with.--Mr. Knightley was then obliged to say that +he should be glad to see him; and Mr. Weston engaged to lose no time in +writing, and spare no arguments to induce him to come. + +In the meanwhile the lame horse recovered so fast, that the party to +Box Hill was again under happy consideration; and at last Donwell was +settled for one day, and Box Hill for the next,--the weather appearing +exactly right. + +Under a bright mid-day sun, at almost Midsummer, Mr. Woodhouse was +safely conveyed in his carriage, with one window down, to partake of +this al-fresco party; and in one of the most comfortable rooms in the +Abbey, especially prepared for him by a fire all the morning, he was +happily placed, quite at his ease, ready to talk with pleasure of what +had been achieved, and advise every body to come and sit down, and not +to heat themselves.--Mrs. Weston, who seemed to have walked there on +purpose to be tired, and sit all the time with him, remained, when +all the others were invited or persuaded out, his patient listener and +sympathiser. + +It was so long since Emma had been at the Abbey, that as soon as she was +satisfied of her father's comfort, she was glad to leave him, and look +around her; eager to refresh and correct her memory with more particular +observation, more exact understanding of a house and grounds which must +ever be so interesting to her and all her family. + +She felt all the honest pride and complacency which her alliance with +the present and future proprietor could fairly warrant, as she viewed +the respectable size and style of the building, its suitable, becoming, +characteristic situation, low and sheltered--its ample gardens +stretching down to meadows washed by a stream, of which the Abbey, with +all the old neglect of prospect, had scarcely a sight--and its abundance +of timber in rows and avenues, which neither fashion nor extravagance +had rooted up.--The house was larger than Hartfield, and totally unlike +it, covering a good deal of ground, rambling and irregular, with many +comfortable, and one or two handsome rooms.--It was just what it ought +to be, and it looked what it was--and Emma felt an increasing respect +for it, as the residence of a family of such true gentility, untainted +in blood and understanding.--Some faults of temper John Knightley had; +but Isabella had connected herself unexceptionably. She had given them +neither men, nor names, nor places, that could raise a blush. These were +pleasant feelings, and she walked about and indulged them till it +was necessary to do as the others did, and collect round the +strawberry-beds.--The whole party were assembled, excepting Frank +Churchill, who was expected every moment from Richmond; and Mrs. Elton, +in all her apparatus of happiness, her large bonnet and her basket, +was very ready to lead the way in gathering, accepting, or +talking--strawberries, and only strawberries, could now be thought or +spoken of.--“The best fruit in England--every body's favourite--always +wholesome.--These the finest beds and finest sorts.--Delightful to +gather for one's self--the only way of really enjoying them.--Morning +decidedly the best time--never tired--every sort good--hautboy +infinitely superior--no comparison--the others hardly eatable--hautboys +very scarce--Chili preferred--white wood finest flavour of all--price +of strawberries in London--abundance about Bristol--Maple +Grove--cultivation--beds when to be renewed--gardeners thinking exactly +different--no general rule--gardeners never to be put out of their +way--delicious fruit--only too rich to be eaten much of--inferior +to cherries--currants more refreshing--only objection to gathering +strawberries the stooping--glaring sun--tired to death--could bear it no +longer--must go and sit in the shade.” + +Such, for half an hour, was the conversation--interrupted only once by +Mrs. Weston, who came out, in her solicitude after her son-in-law, to +inquire if he were come--and she was a little uneasy.--She had some +fears of his horse. + +Seats tolerably in the shade were found; and now Emma was obliged +to overhear what Mrs. Elton and Jane Fairfax were talking of.--A +situation, a most desirable situation, was in question. Mrs. Elton had +received notice of it that morning, and was in raptures. It was not +with Mrs. Suckling, it was not with Mrs. Bragge, but in felicity and +splendour it fell short only of them: it was with a cousin of Mrs. +Bragge, an acquaintance of Mrs. Suckling, a lady known at Maple Grove. +Delightful, charming, superior, first circles, spheres, lines, ranks, +every thing--and Mrs. Elton was wild to have the offer closed with +immediately.--On her side, all was warmth, energy, and triumph--and she +positively refused to take her friend's negative, though Miss Fairfax +continued to assure her that she would not at present engage in any +thing, repeating the same motives which she had been heard to urge +before.--Still Mrs. Elton insisted on being authorised to write an +acquiescence by the morrow's post.--How Jane could bear it at all, was +astonishing to Emma.--She did look vexed, she did speak pointedly--and +at last, with a decision of action unusual to her, proposed a +removal.--“Should not they walk? Would not Mr. Knightley shew them the +gardens--all the gardens?--She wished to see the whole extent.”--The +pertinacity of her friend seemed more than she could bear. + +It was hot; and after walking some time over the gardens in a scattered, +dispersed way, scarcely any three together, they insensibly followed one +another to the delicious shade of a broad short avenue of limes, which +stretching beyond the garden at an equal distance from the river, seemed +the finish of the pleasure grounds.--It led to nothing; nothing but a +view at the end over a low stone wall with high pillars, which seemed +intended, in their erection, to give the appearance of an approach to +the house, which never had been there. Disputable, however, as might be +the taste of such a termination, it was in itself a charming walk, and +the view which closed it extremely pretty.--The considerable slope, at +nearly the foot of which the Abbey stood, gradually acquired a steeper +form beyond its grounds; and at half a mile distant was a bank of +considerable abruptness and grandeur, well clothed with wood;--and at +the bottom of this bank, favourably placed and sheltered, rose the +Abbey Mill Farm, with meadows in front, and the river making a close and +handsome curve around it. + +It was a sweet view--sweet to the eye and the mind. English verdure, +English culture, English comfort, seen under a sun bright, without being +oppressive. + +In this walk Emma and Mr. Weston found all the others assembled; and +towards this view she immediately perceived Mr. Knightley and Harriet +distinct from the rest, quietly leading the way. Mr. Knightley and +Harriet!--It was an odd tete-a-tete; but she was glad to see it.--There +had been a time when he would have scorned her as a companion, and +turned from her with little ceremony. Now they seemed in pleasant +conversation. There had been a time also when Emma would have been sorry +to see Harriet in a spot so favourable for the Abbey Mill Farm; but now +she feared it not. It might be safely viewed with all its appendages of +prosperity and beauty, its rich pastures, spreading flocks, orchard in +blossom, and light column of smoke ascending.--She joined them at the +wall, and found them more engaged in talking than in looking around. He +was giving Harriet information as to modes of agriculture, etc. and Emma +received a smile which seemed to say, “These are my own concerns. I have +a right to talk on such subjects, without being suspected of +introducing Robert Martin.”--She did not suspect him. It was too old +a story.--Robert Martin had probably ceased to think of Harriet.--They +took a few turns together along the walk.--The shade was most +refreshing, and Emma found it the pleasantest part of the day. + +The next remove was to the house; they must all go in and eat;--and they +were all seated and busy, and still Frank Churchill did not come. Mrs. +Weston looked, and looked in vain. His father would not own himself +uneasy, and laughed at her fears; but she could not be cured of wishing +that he would part with his black mare. He had expressed himself as to +coming, with more than common certainty. “His aunt was so much better, +that he had not a doubt of getting over to them.”--Mrs. Churchill's +state, however, as many were ready to remind her, was liable to such +sudden variation as might disappoint her nephew in the most reasonable +dependence--and Mrs. Weston was at last persuaded to believe, or to say, +that it must be by some attack of Mrs. Churchill that he was +prevented coming.--Emma looked at Harriet while the point was under +consideration; she behaved very well, and betrayed no emotion. + +The cold repast was over, and the party were to go out once more to see +what had not yet been seen, the old Abbey fish-ponds; perhaps get as far +as the clover, which was to be begun cutting on the morrow, or, at +any rate, have the pleasure of being hot, and growing cool again.--Mr. +Woodhouse, who had already taken his little round in the highest part +of the gardens, where no damps from the river were imagined even by him, +stirred no more; and his daughter resolved to remain with him, that +Mrs. Weston might be persuaded away by her husband to the exercise and +variety which her spirits seemed to need. + +Mr. Knightley had done all in his power for Mr. Woodhouse's +entertainment. Books of engravings, drawers of medals, cameos, corals, +shells, and every other family collection within his cabinets, had been +prepared for his old friend, to while away the morning; and the kindness +had perfectly answered. Mr. Woodhouse had been exceedingly well amused. +Mrs. Weston had been shewing them all to him, and now he would shew them +all to Emma;--fortunate in having no other resemblance to a child, than +in a total want of taste for what he saw, for he was slow, constant, and +methodical.--Before this second looking over was begun, however, Emma +walked into the hall for the sake of a few moments' free observation of +the entrance and ground-plot of the house--and was hardly there, when +Jane Fairfax appeared, coming quickly in from the garden, and with a +look of escape.--Little expecting to meet Miss Woodhouse so soon, there +was a start at first; but Miss Woodhouse was the very person she was in +quest of. + +“Will you be so kind,” said she, “when I am missed, as to say that I am +gone home?--I am going this moment.--My aunt is not aware how late it +is, nor how long we have been absent--but I am sure we shall be wanted, +and I am determined to go directly.--I have said nothing about it to any +body. It would only be giving trouble and distress. Some are gone to the +ponds, and some to the lime walk. Till they all come in I shall not be +missed; and when they do, will you have the goodness to say that I am +gone?” + +“Certainly, if you wish it;--but you are not going to walk to Highbury +alone?” + +“Yes--what should hurt me?--I walk fast. I shall be at home in twenty +minutes.” + +“But it is too far, indeed it is, to be walking quite alone. Let my +father's servant go with you.--Let me order the carriage. It can be +round in five minutes.” + +“Thank you, thank you--but on no account.--I would rather walk.--And +for _me_ to be afraid of walking alone!--I, who may so soon have to +guard others!” + +She spoke with great agitation; and Emma very feelingly replied, “That +can be no reason for your being exposed to danger now. I must order the +carriage. The heat even would be danger.--You are fatigued already.” + +“I am,”--she answered--“I am fatigued; but it is not the sort of +fatigue--quick walking will refresh me.--Miss Woodhouse, we all know +at times what it is to be wearied in spirits. Mine, I confess, are +exhausted. The greatest kindness you can shew me, will be to let me have +my own way, and only say that I am gone when it is necessary.” + +Emma had not another word to oppose. She saw it all; and entering into +her feelings, promoted her quitting the house immediately, and +watched her safely off with the zeal of a friend. Her parting look was +grateful--and her parting words, “Oh! Miss Woodhouse, the comfort of +being sometimes alone!”--seemed to burst from an overcharged heart, and +to describe somewhat of the continual endurance to be practised by her, +even towards some of those who loved her best. + +“Such a home, indeed! such an aunt!” said Emma, as she turned back into +the hall again. “I do pity you. And the more sensibility you betray of +their just horrors, the more I shall like you.” + +Jane had not been gone a quarter of an hour, and they had only +accomplished some views of St. Mark's Place, Venice, when Frank +Churchill entered the room. Emma had not been thinking of him, she had +forgotten to think of him--but she was very glad to see him. Mrs. Weston +would be at ease. The black mare was blameless; _they_ were right +who had named Mrs. Churchill as the cause. He had been detained by +a temporary increase of illness in her; a nervous seizure, which had +lasted some hours--and he had quite given up every thought of coming, +till very late;--and had he known how hot a ride he should have, and +how late, with all his hurry, he must be, he believed he should not have +come at all. The heat was excessive; he had never suffered any thing +like it--almost wished he had staid at home--nothing killed him +like heat--he could bear any degree of cold, etc., but heat was +intolerable--and he sat down, at the greatest possible distance from the +slight remains of Mr. Woodhouse's fire, looking very deplorable. + +“You will soon be cooler, if you sit still,” said Emma. + +“As soon as I am cooler I shall go back again. I could very ill be +spared--but such a point had been made of my coming! You will all be +going soon I suppose; the whole party breaking up. I met _one_ as I +came--Madness in such weather!--absolute madness!” + +Emma listened, and looked, and soon perceived that Frank Churchill's +state might be best defined by the expressive phrase of being out of +humour. Some people were always cross when they were hot. Such might be +his constitution; and as she knew that eating and drinking were often +the cure of such incidental complaints, she recommended his taking +some refreshment; he would find abundance of every thing in the +dining-room--and she humanely pointed out the door. + +“No--he should not eat. He was not hungry; it would only make him +hotter.” In two minutes, however, he relented in his own favour; and +muttering something about spruce-beer, walked off. Emma returned all her +attention to her father, saying in secret-- + +“I am glad I have done being in love with him. I should not like a man +who is so soon discomposed by a hot morning. Harriet's sweet easy temper +will not mind it.” + +He was gone long enough to have had a very comfortable meal, and came +back all the better--grown quite cool--and, with good manners, like +himself--able to draw a chair close to them, take an interest in their +employment; and regret, in a reasonable way, that he should be so late. +He was not in his best spirits, but seemed trying to improve them; and, +at last, made himself talk nonsense very agreeably. They were looking +over views in Swisserland. + +“As soon as my aunt gets well, I shall go abroad,” said he. “I shall +never be easy till I have seen some of these places. You will have my +sketches, some time or other, to look at--or my tour to read--or my +poem. I shall do something to expose myself.” + +“That may be--but not by sketches in Swisserland. You will never go to +Swisserland. Your uncle and aunt will never allow you to leave England.” + +“They may be induced to go too. A warm climate may be prescribed for +her. I have more than half an expectation of our all going abroad. I +assure you I have. I feel a strong persuasion, this morning, that I +shall soon be abroad. I ought to travel. I am tired of doing nothing. I +want a change. I am serious, Miss Woodhouse, whatever your penetrating +eyes may fancy--I am sick of England--and would leave it to-morrow, if +I could.” + +“You are sick of prosperity and indulgence. Cannot you invent a few +hardships for yourself, and be contented to stay?” + +“_I_ sick of prosperity and indulgence! You are quite mistaken. I do +not look upon myself as either prosperous or indulged. I am thwarted +in every thing material. I do not consider myself at all a fortunate +person.” + +“You are not quite so miserable, though, as when you first came. Go and +eat and drink a little more, and you will do very well. Another slice of +cold meat, another draught of Madeira and water, will make you nearly on +a par with the rest of us.” + +“No--I shall not stir. I shall sit by you. You are my best cure.” + +“We are going to Box Hill to-morrow;--you will join us. It is not +Swisserland, but it will be something for a young man so much in want of +a change. You will stay, and go with us?” + +“No, certainly not; I shall go home in the cool of the evening.” + +“But you may come again in the cool of to-morrow morning.” + +“No--It will not be worth while. If I come, I shall be cross.” + +“Then pray stay at Richmond.” + +“But if I do, I shall be crosser still. I can never bear to think of you +all there without me.” + +“These are difficulties which you must settle for yourself. Chuse your +own degree of crossness. I shall press you no more.” + +The rest of the party were now returning, and all were soon collected. +With some there was great joy at the sight of Frank Churchill; others +took it very composedly; but there was a very general distress and +disturbance on Miss Fairfax's disappearance being explained. That it was +time for every body to go, concluded the subject; and with a short final +arrangement for the next day's scheme, they parted. Frank Churchill's +little inclination to exclude himself increased so much, that his last +words to Emma were, + +“Well;--if _you_ wish me to stay and join the party, I will.” + +She smiled her acceptance; and nothing less than a summons from Richmond +was to take him back before the following evening. + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +They had a very fine day for Box Hill; and all the other outward +circumstances of arrangement, accommodation, and punctuality, were in +favour of a pleasant party. Mr. Weston directed the whole, officiating +safely between Hartfield and the Vicarage, and every body was in good +time. Emma and Harriet went together; Miss Bates and her niece, with +the Eltons; the gentlemen on horseback. Mrs. Weston remained with Mr. +Woodhouse. Nothing was wanting but to be happy when they got there. +Seven miles were travelled in expectation of enjoyment, and every body +had a burst of admiration on first arriving; but in the general amount +of the day there was deficiency. There was a languor, a want of spirits, +a want of union, which could not be got over. They separated too much +into parties. The Eltons walked together; Mr. Knightley took charge of +Miss Bates and Jane; and Emma and Harriet belonged to Frank Churchill. +And Mr. Weston tried, in vain, to make them harmonise better. It seemed +at first an accidental division, but it never materially varied. Mr. and +Mrs. Elton, indeed, shewed no unwillingness to mix, and be as agreeable +as they could; but during the two whole hours that were spent on the +hill, there seemed a principle of separation, between the other parties, +too strong for any fine prospects, or any cold collation, or any +cheerful Mr. Weston, to remove. + +At first it was downright dulness to Emma. She had never seen Frank +Churchill so silent and stupid. He said nothing worth hearing--looked +without seeing--admired without intelligence--listened without knowing +what she said. While he was so dull, it was no wonder that Harriet +should be dull likewise; and they were both insufferable. + +When they all sat down it was better; to her taste a great deal better, +for Frank Churchill grew talkative and gay, making her his first object. +Every distinguishing attention that could be paid, was paid to her. +To amuse her, and be agreeable in her eyes, seemed all that he cared +for--and Emma, glad to be enlivened, not sorry to be flattered, was gay +and easy too, and gave him all the friendly encouragement, the admission +to be gallant, which she had ever given in the first and most animating +period of their acquaintance; but which now, in her own estimation, +meant nothing, though in the judgment of most people looking on it must +have had such an appearance as no English word but flirtation could very +well describe. “Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse flirted together +excessively.” They were laying themselves open to that very phrase--and +to having it sent off in a letter to Maple Grove by one lady, to +Ireland by another. Not that Emma was gay and thoughtless from any +real felicity; it was rather because she felt less happy than she had +expected. She laughed because she was disappointed; and though she liked +him for his attentions, and thought them all, whether in friendship, +admiration, or playfulness, extremely judicious, they were not winning +back her heart. She still intended him for her friend. + +“How much I am obliged to you,” said he, “for telling me to come +to-day!--If it had not been for you, I should certainly have lost all +the happiness of this party. I had quite determined to go away again.” + +“Yes, you were very cross; and I do not know what about, except that you +were too late for the best strawberries. I was a kinder friend than you +deserved. But you were humble. You begged hard to be commanded to come.” + +“Don't say I was cross. I was fatigued. The heat overcame me.” + +“It is hotter to-day.” + +“Not to my feelings. I am perfectly comfortable to-day.” + +“You are comfortable because you are under command.” + +“Your command?--Yes.” + +“Perhaps I intended you to say so, but I meant self-command. You had, +somehow or other, broken bounds yesterday, and run away from your own +management; but to-day you are got back again--and as I cannot be always +with you, it is best to believe your temper under your own command +rather than mine.” + +“It comes to the same thing. I can have no self-command without a +motive. You order me, whether you speak or not. And you can be always +with me. You are always with me.” + +“Dating from three o'clock yesterday. My perpetual influence could not +begin earlier, or you would not have been so much out of humour before.” + +“Three o'clock yesterday! That is your date. I thought I had seen you +first in February.” + +“Your gallantry is really unanswerable. But (lowering her voice)--nobody +speaks except ourselves, and it is rather too much to be talking +nonsense for the entertainment of seven silent people.” + +“I say nothing of which I am ashamed,” replied he, with lively +impudence. “I saw you first in February. Let every body on the Hill +hear me if they can. Let my accents swell to Mickleham on one side, +and Dorking on the other. I saw you first in February.” And then +whispering--“Our companions are excessively stupid. What shall we do +to rouse them? Any nonsense will serve. They _shall_ talk. Ladies +and gentlemen, I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse (who, wherever she is, +presides) to say, that she desires to know what you are all thinking +of?” + +Some laughed, and answered good-humouredly. Miss Bates said a great +deal; Mrs. Elton swelled at the idea of Miss Woodhouse's presiding; Mr. +Knightley's answer was the most distinct. + +“Is Miss Woodhouse sure that she would like to hear what we are all +thinking of?” + +“Oh! no, no”--cried Emma, laughing as carelessly as she could--“Upon no +account in the world. It is the very last thing I would stand the brunt +of just now. Let me hear any thing rather than what you are all thinking +of. I will not say quite all. There are one or two, perhaps, (glancing +at Mr. Weston and Harriet,) whose thoughts I might not be afraid of +knowing.” + +“It is a sort of thing,” cried Mrs. Elton emphatically, “which _I_ +should not have thought myself privileged to inquire into. Though, +perhaps, as the _Chaperon_ of the party--_I_ never was in any +circle--exploring parties--young ladies--married women--” + +Her mutterings were chiefly to her husband; and he murmured, in reply, + +“Very true, my love, very true. Exactly so, indeed--quite unheard +of--but some ladies say any thing. Better pass it off as a joke. Every +body knows what is due to _you_.” + +“It will not do,” whispered Frank to Emma; “they are most of them +affronted. I will attack them with more address. Ladies and gentlemen--I +am ordered by Miss Woodhouse to say, that she waives her right of +knowing exactly what you may all be thinking of, and only requires +something very entertaining from each of you, in a general way. Here +are seven of you, besides myself, (who, she is pleased to say, am very +entertaining already,) and she only demands from each of you either one +thing very clever, be it prose or verse, original or repeated--or two +things moderately clever--or three things very dull indeed, and she +engages to laugh heartily at them all.” + +“Oh! very well,” exclaimed Miss Bates, “then I need not be uneasy. +'Three things very dull indeed.' That will just do for me, you know. I +shall be sure to say three dull things as soon as ever I open my mouth, +shan't I? (looking round with the most good-humoured dependence on every +body's assent)--Do not you all think I shall?” + +Emma could not resist. + +“Ah! ma'am, but there may be a difficulty. Pardon me--but you will be +limited as to number--only three at once.” + +Miss Bates, deceived by the mock ceremony of her manner, did not +immediately catch her meaning; but, when it burst on her, it could not +anger, though a slight blush shewed that it could pain her. + +“Ah!--well--to be sure. Yes, I see what she means, (turning to Mr. +Knightley,) and I will try to hold my tongue. I must make myself very +disagreeable, or she would not have said such a thing to an old friend.” + +“I like your plan,” cried Mr. Weston. “Agreed, agreed. I will do my +best. I am making a conundrum. How will a conundrum reckon?” + +“Low, I am afraid, sir, very low,” answered his son;--“but we shall be +indulgent--especially to any one who leads the way.” + +“No, no,” said Emma, “it will not reckon low. A conundrum of Mr. +Weston's shall clear him and his next neighbour. Come, sir, pray let me +hear it.” + +“I doubt its being very clever myself,” said Mr. Weston. “It is too much +a matter of fact, but here it is.--What two letters of the alphabet are +there, that express perfection?” + +“What two letters!--express perfection! I am sure I do not know.” + +“Ah! you will never guess. You, (to Emma), I am certain, will never +guess.--I will tell you.--M. and A.--Em-ma.--Do you understand?” + +Understanding and gratification came together. It might be a very +indifferent piece of wit, but Emma found a great deal to laugh at and +enjoy in it--and so did Frank and Harriet.--It did not seem to touch +the rest of the party equally; some looked very stupid about it, and Mr. +Knightley gravely said, + +“This explains the sort of clever thing that is wanted, and Mr. Weston +has done very well for himself; but he must have knocked up every body +else. _Perfection_ should not have come quite so soon.” + +“Oh! for myself, I protest I must be excused,” said Mrs. Elton; “_I_ +really cannot attempt--I am not at all fond of the sort of thing. I had +an acrostic once sent to me upon my own name, which I was not at all +pleased with. I knew who it came from. An abominable puppy!--You know +who I mean (nodding to her husband). These kind of things are very +well at Christmas, when one is sitting round the fire; but quite out of +place, in my opinion, when one is exploring about the country in summer. +Miss Woodhouse must excuse me. I am not one of those who have witty +things at every body's service. I do not pretend to be a wit. I have a +great deal of vivacity in my own way, but I really must be allowed to +judge when to speak and when to hold my tongue. Pass us, if you please, +Mr. Churchill. Pass Mr. E., Knightley, Jane, and myself. We have nothing +clever to say--not one of us. + +“Yes, yes, pray pass _me_,” added her husband, with a sort of sneering +consciousness; “_I_ have nothing to say that can entertain Miss +Woodhouse, or any other young lady. An old married man--quite good for +nothing. Shall we walk, Augusta?” + +“With all my heart. I am really tired of exploring so long on one spot. +Come, Jane, take my other arm.” + +Jane declined it, however, and the husband and wife walked off. +“Happy couple!” said Frank Churchill, as soon as they were out of +hearing:--“How well they suit one another!--Very lucky--marrying as they +did, upon an acquaintance formed only in a public place!--They only knew +each other, I think, a few weeks in Bath! Peculiarly lucky!--for as to +any real knowledge of a person's disposition that Bath, or any public +place, can give--it is all nothing; there can be no knowledge. It is +only by seeing women in their own homes, among their own set, just as +they always are, that you can form any just judgment. Short of that, it +is all guess and luck--and will generally be ill-luck. How many a man +has committed himself on a short acquaintance, and rued it all the rest +of his life!” + +Miss Fairfax, who had seldom spoken before, except among her own +confederates, spoke now. + +“Such things do occur, undoubtedly.”--She was stopped by a cough. Frank +Churchill turned towards her to listen. + +“You were speaking,” said he, gravely. She recovered her voice. + +“I was only going to observe, that though such unfortunate circumstances +do sometimes occur both to men and women, I cannot imagine them to be +very frequent. A hasty and imprudent attachment may arise--but there is +generally time to recover from it afterwards. I would be understood to +mean, that it can be only weak, irresolute characters, (whose happiness +must be always at the mercy of chance,) who will suffer an unfortunate +acquaintance to be an inconvenience, an oppression for ever.” + +He made no answer; merely looked, and bowed in submission; and soon +afterwards said, in a lively tone, + +“Well, I have so little confidence in my own judgment, that whenever I +marry, I hope some body will chuse my wife for me. Will you? (turning to +Emma.) Will you chuse a wife for me?--I am sure I should like any body +fixed on by you. You provide for the family, you know, (with a smile at +his father). Find some body for me. I am in no hurry. Adopt her, educate +her.” + +“And make her like myself.” + +“By all means, if you can.” + +“Very well. I undertake the commission. You shall have a charming wife.” + +“She must be very lively, and have hazle eyes. I care for nothing else. +I shall go abroad for a couple of years--and when I return, I shall come +to you for my wife. Remember.” + +Emma was in no danger of forgetting. It was a commission to touch every +favourite feeling. Would not Harriet be the very creature described? +Hazle eyes excepted, two years more might make her all that he wished. +He might even have Harriet in his thoughts at the moment; who could say? +Referring the education to her seemed to imply it. + +“Now, ma'am,” said Jane to her aunt, “shall we join Mrs. Elton?” + +“If you please, my dear. With all my heart. I am quite ready. I was +ready to have gone with her, but this will do just as well. We shall +soon overtake her. There she is--no, that's somebody else. That's one +of the ladies in the Irish car party, not at all like her.--Well, I +declare--” + +They walked off, followed in half a minute by Mr. Knightley. Mr. Weston, +his son, Emma, and Harriet, only remained; and the young man's spirits +now rose to a pitch almost unpleasant. Even Emma grew tired at last of +flattery and merriment, and wished herself rather walking quietly about +with any of the others, or sitting almost alone, and quite unattended +to, in tranquil observation of the beautiful views beneath her. The +appearance of the servants looking out for them to give notice of the +carriages was a joyful sight; and even the bustle of collecting and +preparing to depart, and the solicitude of Mrs. Elton to have _her_ +carriage first, were gladly endured, in the prospect of the quiet drive +home which was to close the very questionable enjoyments of this day of +pleasure. Such another scheme, composed of so many ill-assorted people, +she hoped never to be betrayed into again. + +While waiting for the carriage, she found Mr. Knightley by her side. He +looked around, as if to see that no one were near, and then said, + +“Emma, I must once more speak to you as I have been used to do: a +privilege rather endured than allowed, perhaps, but I must still use it. +I cannot see you acting wrong, without a remonstrance. How could you be +so unfeeling to Miss Bates? How could you be so insolent in your wit to +a woman of her character, age, and situation?--Emma, I had not thought +it possible.” + +Emma recollected, blushed, was sorry, but tried to laugh it off. + +“Nay, how could I help saying what I did?--Nobody could have helped it. +It was not so very bad. I dare say she did not understand me.” + +“I assure you she did. She felt your full meaning. She has talked of +it since. I wish you could have heard how she talked of it--with what +candour and generosity. I wish you could have heard her honouring your +forbearance, in being able to pay her such attentions, as she was for +ever receiving from yourself and your father, when her society must be +so irksome.” + +“Oh!” cried Emma, “I know there is not a better creature in the world: +but you must allow, that what is good and what is ridiculous are most +unfortunately blended in her.” + +“They are blended,” said he, “I acknowledge; and, were she prosperous, +I could allow much for the occasional prevalence of the ridiculous over +the good. Were she a woman of fortune, I would leave every harmless +absurdity to take its chance, I would not quarrel with you for any +liberties of manner. Were she your equal in situation--but, Emma, +consider how far this is from being the case. She is poor; she has sunk +from the comforts she was born to; and, if she live to old age, must +probably sink more. Her situation should secure your compassion. It was +badly done, indeed! You, whom she had known from an infant, whom she had +seen grow up from a period when her notice was an honour, to have you +now, in thoughtless spirits, and the pride of the moment, laugh at her, +humble her--and before her niece, too--and before others, many of whom +(certainly _some_,) would be entirely guided by _your_ treatment +of her.--This is not pleasant to you, Emma--and it is very far from +pleasant to me; but I must, I will,--I will tell you truths while I can; +satisfied with proving myself your friend by very faithful counsel, and +trusting that you will some time or other do me greater justice than you +can do now.” + +While they talked, they were advancing towards the carriage; it was +ready; and, before she could speak again, he had handed her in. He had +misinterpreted the feelings which had kept her face averted, and her +tongue motionless. They were combined only of anger against herself, +mortification, and deep concern. She had not been able to speak; and, on +entering the carriage, sunk back for a moment overcome--then reproaching +herself for having taken no leave, making no acknowledgment, parting in +apparent sullenness, she looked out with voice and hand eager to shew a +difference; but it was just too late. He had turned away, and the horses +were in motion. She continued to look back, but in vain; and soon, with +what appeared unusual speed, they were half way down the hill, and +every thing left far behind. She was vexed beyond what could have been +expressed--almost beyond what she could conceal. Never had she felt so +agitated, mortified, grieved, at any circumstance in her life. She was +most forcibly struck. The truth of this representation there was no +denying. She felt it at her heart. How could she have been so brutal, +so cruel to Miss Bates! How could she have exposed herself to such ill +opinion in any one she valued! And how suffer him to leave her without +saying one word of gratitude, of concurrence, of common kindness! + +Time did not compose her. As she reflected more, she seemed but to feel +it more. She never had been so depressed. Happily it was not necessary +to speak. There was only Harriet, who seemed not in spirits herself, +fagged, and very willing to be silent; and Emma felt the tears running +down her cheeks almost all the way home, without being at any trouble to +check them, extraordinary as they were. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The wretchedness of a scheme to Box Hill was in Emma's thoughts all the +evening. How it might be considered by the rest of the party, she could +not tell. They, in their different homes, and their different ways, +might be looking back on it with pleasure; but in her view it was +a morning more completely misspent, more totally bare of rational +satisfaction at the time, and more to be abhorred in recollection, than +any she had ever passed. A whole evening of back-gammon with her father, +was felicity to it. _There_, indeed, lay real pleasure, for there she +was giving up the sweetest hours of the twenty-four to his comfort; and +feeling that, unmerited as might be the degree of his fond affection and +confiding esteem, she could not, in her general conduct, be open to any +severe reproach. As a daughter, she hoped she was not without a heart. +She hoped no one could have said to her, “How could you be so unfeeling +to your father?--I must, I will tell you truths while I can.” Miss +Bates should never again--no, never! If attention, in future, could do +away the past, she might hope to be forgiven. She had been often remiss, +her conscience told her so; remiss, perhaps, more in thought than fact; +scornful, ungracious. But it should be so no more. In the warmth of true +contrition, she would call upon her the very next morning, and it should +be the beginning, on her side, of a regular, equal, kindly intercourse. + +She was just as determined when the morrow came, and went early, that +nothing might prevent her. It was not unlikely, she thought, that she +might see Mr. Knightley in her way; or, perhaps, he might come in +while she were paying her visit. She had no objection. She would not be +ashamed of the appearance of the penitence, so justly and truly hers. +Her eyes were towards Donwell as she walked, but she saw him not. + +“The ladies were all at home.” She had never rejoiced at the sound +before, nor ever before entered the passage, nor walked up the stairs, +with any wish of giving pleasure, but in conferring obligation, or of +deriving it, except in subsequent ridicule. + +There was a bustle on her approach; a good deal of moving and talking. +She heard Miss Bates's voice, something was to be done in a hurry; the +maid looked frightened and awkward; hoped she would be pleased to wait a +moment, and then ushered her in too soon. The aunt and niece seemed both +escaping into the adjoining room. Jane she had a distinct glimpse of, +looking extremely ill; and, before the door had shut them out, she heard +Miss Bates saying, “Well, my dear, I shall _say_ you are laid down upon +the bed, and I am sure you are ill enough.” + +Poor old Mrs. Bates, civil and humble as usual, looked as if she did not +quite understand what was going on. + +“I am afraid Jane is not very well,” said she, “but I do not know; they +_tell_ me she is well. I dare say my daughter will be here presently, +Miss Woodhouse. I hope you find a chair. I wish Hetty had not gone. I am +very little able--Have you a chair, ma'am? Do you sit where you like? I +am sure she will be here presently.” + +Emma seriously hoped she would. She had a moment's fear of Miss Bates +keeping away from her. But Miss Bates soon came--“Very happy and +obliged”--but Emma's conscience told her that there was not the same +cheerful volubility as before--less ease of look and manner. A very +friendly inquiry after Miss Fairfax, she hoped, might lead the way to a +return of old feelings. The touch seemed immediate. + +“Ah! Miss Woodhouse, how kind you are!--I suppose you have heard--and +are come to give us joy. This does not seem much like joy, indeed, in +me--(twinkling away a tear or two)--but it will be very trying for us +to part with her, after having had her so long, and she has a dreadful +headache just now, writing all the morning:--such long letters, you +know, to be written to Colonel Campbell, and Mrs. Dixon. 'My dear,' said +I, 'you will blind yourself'--for tears were in her eyes perpetually. +One cannot wonder, one cannot wonder. It is a great change; and though +she is amazingly fortunate--such a situation, I suppose, as no +young woman before ever met with on first going out--do not think us +ungrateful, Miss Woodhouse, for such surprising good fortune--(again +dispersing her tears)--but, poor dear soul! if you were to see what a +headache she has. When one is in great pain, you know one cannot feel +any blessing quite as it may deserve. She is as low as possible. To +look at her, nobody would think how delighted and happy she is to have +secured such a situation. You will excuse her not coming to you--she is +not able--she is gone into her own room--I want her to lie down upon the +bed. 'My dear,' said I, 'I shall say you are laid down upon the bed:' +but, however, she is not; she is walking about the room. But, now that +she has written her letters, she says she shall soon be well. She will +be extremely sorry to miss seeing you, Miss Woodhouse, but your +kindness will excuse her. You were kept waiting at the door--I was quite +ashamed--but somehow there was a little bustle--for it so happened that +we had not heard the knock, and till you were on the stairs, we did not +know any body was coming. 'It is only Mrs. Cole,' said I, 'depend upon +it. Nobody else would come so early.' 'Well,' said she, 'it must be +borne some time or other, and it may as well be now.' But then Patty +came in, and said it was you. 'Oh!' said I, 'it is Miss Woodhouse: I am +sure you will like to see her.'--'I can see nobody,' said she; and +up she got, and would go away; and that was what made us keep you +waiting--and extremely sorry and ashamed we were. 'If you must go, my +dear,' said I, 'you must, and I will say you are laid down upon the +bed.'” + +Emma was most sincerely interested. Her heart had been long growing +kinder towards Jane; and this picture of her present sufferings acted +as a cure of every former ungenerous suspicion, and left her nothing but +pity; and the remembrance of the less just and less gentle sensations of +the past, obliged her to admit that Jane might very naturally resolve on +seeing Mrs. Cole or any other steady friend, when she might not bear +to see herself. She spoke as she felt, with earnest regret and +solicitude--sincerely wishing that the circumstances which she collected +from Miss Bates to be now actually determined on, might be as much for +Miss Fairfax's advantage and comfort as possible. “It must be a severe +trial to them all. She had understood it was to be delayed till Colonel +Campbell's return.” + +“So very kind!” replied Miss Bates. “But you are always kind.” + +There was no bearing such an “always;” and to break through her dreadful +gratitude, Emma made the direct inquiry of-- + +“Where--may I ask?--is Miss Fairfax going?” + +“To a Mrs. Smallridge--charming woman--most superior--to have the charge +of her three little girls--delightful children. Impossible that any +situation could be more replete with comfort; if we except, perhaps, +Mrs. Suckling's own family, and Mrs. Bragge's; but Mrs. Smallridge is +intimate with both, and in the very same neighbourhood:--lives only four +miles from Maple Grove. Jane will be only four miles from Maple Grove.” + +“Mrs. Elton, I suppose, has been the person to whom Miss Fairfax owes--” + +“Yes, our good Mrs. Elton. The most indefatigable, true friend. She +would not take a denial. She would not let Jane say, 'No;' for when Jane +first heard of it, (it was the day before yesterday, the very morning +we were at Donwell,) when Jane first heard of it, she was quite decided +against accepting the offer, and for the reasons you mention; exactly +as you say, she had made up her mind to close with nothing till Colonel +Campbell's return, and nothing should induce her to enter into any +engagement at present--and so she told Mrs. Elton over and over +again--and I am sure I had no more idea that she would change her +mind!--but that good Mrs. Elton, whose judgment never fails her, saw +farther than I did. It is not every body that would have stood out in +such a kind way as she did, and refuse to take Jane's answer; but she +positively declared she would _not_ write any such denial yesterday, as +Jane wished her; she would wait--and, sure enough, yesterday evening it +was all settled that Jane should go. Quite a surprize to me! I had not +the least idea!--Jane took Mrs. Elton aside, and told her at once, that +upon thinking over the advantages of Mrs. Smallridge's situation, she +had come to the resolution of accepting it.--I did not know a word of it +till it was all settled.” + +“You spent the evening with Mrs. Elton?” + +“Yes, all of us; Mrs. Elton would have us come. It was settled so, upon +the hill, while we were walking about with Mr. Knightley. 'You _must_ +_all_ spend your evening with us,' said she--'I positively must have you +_all_ come.'” + +“Mr. Knightley was there too, was he?” + +“No, not Mr. Knightley; he declined it from the first; and though I +thought he would come, because Mrs. Elton declared she would not let him +off, he did not;--but my mother, and Jane, and I, were all there, and +a very agreeable evening we had. Such kind friends, you know, Miss +Woodhouse, one must always find agreeable, though every body seemed +rather fagged after the morning's party. Even pleasure, you know, is +fatiguing--and I cannot say that any of them seemed very much to have +enjoyed it. However, _I_ shall always think it a very pleasant party, +and feel extremely obliged to the kind friends who included me in it.” + +“Miss Fairfax, I suppose, though you were not aware of it, had been +making up her mind the whole day?” + +“I dare say she had.” + +“Whenever the time may come, it must be unwelcome to her and all her +friends--but I hope her engagement will have every alleviation that is +possible--I mean, as to the character and manners of the family.” + +“Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse. Yes, indeed, there is every thing +in the world that can make her happy in it. Except the Sucklings and +Bragges, there is not such another nursery establishment, so liberal +and elegant, in all Mrs. Elton's acquaintance. Mrs. Smallridge, a most +delightful woman!--A style of living almost equal to Maple Grove--and as +to the children, except the little Sucklings and little Bragges, there +are not such elegant sweet children anywhere. Jane will be treated with +such regard and kindness!--It will be nothing but pleasure, a life of +pleasure.--And her salary!--I really cannot venture to name her salary +to you, Miss Woodhouse. Even you, used as you are to great sums, would +hardly believe that so much could be given to a young person like Jane.” + +“Ah! madam,” cried Emma, “if other children are at all like what I +remember to have been myself, I should think five times the amount of +what I have ever yet heard named as a salary on such occasions, dearly +earned.” + +“You are so noble in your ideas!” + +“And when is Miss Fairfax to leave you?” + +“Very soon, very soon, indeed; that's the worst of it. Within a +fortnight. Mrs. Smallridge is in a great hurry. My poor mother does not +know how to bear it. So then, I try to put it out of her thoughts, and +say, Come ma'am, do not let us think about it any more.” + +“Her friends must all be sorry to lose her; and will not Colonel and +Mrs. Campbell be sorry to find that she has engaged herself before their +return?” + +“Yes; Jane says she is sure they will; but yet, this is such a situation +as she cannot feel herself justified in declining. I was so astonished +when she first told me what she had been saying to Mrs. Elton, and when +Mrs. Elton at the same moment came congratulating me upon it! It was +before tea--stay--no, it could not be before tea, because we were +just going to cards--and yet it was before tea, because I remember +thinking--Oh! no, now I recollect, now I have it; something happened +before tea, but not that. Mr. Elton was called out of the room before +tea, old John Abdy's son wanted to speak with him. Poor old John, I +have a great regard for him; he was clerk to my poor father twenty-seven +years; and now, poor old man, he is bed-ridden, and very poorly with the +rheumatic gout in his joints--I must go and see him to-day; and so will +Jane, I am sure, if she gets out at all. And poor John's son came to +talk to Mr. Elton about relief from the parish; he is very well to do +himself, you know, being head man at the Crown, ostler, and every thing +of that sort, but still he cannot keep his father without some help; +and so, when Mr. Elton came back, he told us what John ostler had been +telling him, and then it came out about the chaise having been sent to +Randalls to take Mr. Frank Churchill to Richmond. That was what happened +before tea. It was after tea that Jane spoke to Mrs. Elton.” + +Miss Bates would hardly give Emma time to say how perfectly new this +circumstance was to her; but as without supposing it possible that she +could be ignorant of any of the particulars of Mr. Frank Churchill's +going, she proceeded to give them all, it was of no consequence. + +What Mr. Elton had learned from the ostler on the subject, being the +accumulation of the ostler's own knowledge, and the knowledge of the +servants at Randalls, was, that a messenger had come over from Richmond +soon after the return of the party from Box Hill--which messenger, +however, had been no more than was expected; and that Mr. Churchill had +sent his nephew a few lines, containing, upon the whole, a tolerable +account of Mrs. Churchill, and only wishing him not to delay coming +back beyond the next morning early; but that Mr. Frank Churchill having +resolved to go home directly, without waiting at all, and his horse +seeming to have got a cold, Tom had been sent off immediately for the +Crown chaise, and the ostler had stood out and seen it pass by, the boy +going a good pace, and driving very steady. + +There was nothing in all this either to astonish or interest, and it +caught Emma's attention only as it united with the subject which already +engaged her mind. The contrast between Mrs. Churchill's importance in +the world, and Jane Fairfax's, struck her; one was every thing, the +other nothing--and she sat musing on the difference of woman's destiny, +and quite unconscious on what her eyes were fixed, till roused by Miss +Bates's saying, + +“Aye, I see what you are thinking of, the pianoforte. What is to become +of that?--Very true. Poor dear Jane was talking of it just now.--'You +must go,' said she. 'You and I must part. You will have no business +here.--Let it stay, however,' said she; 'give it houseroom till Colonel +Campbell comes back. I shall talk about it to him; he will settle for +me; he will help me out of all my difficulties.'--And to this day, I do +believe, she knows not whether it was his present or his daughter's.” + +Now Emma was obliged to think of the pianoforte; and the remembrance of +all her former fanciful and unfair conjectures was so little pleasing, +that she soon allowed herself to believe her visit had been long enough; +and, with a repetition of every thing that she could venture to say of +the good wishes which she really felt, took leave. + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Emma's pensive meditations, as she walked home, were not interrupted; +but on entering the parlour, she found those who must rouse her. Mr. +Knightley and Harriet had arrived during her absence, and were sitting +with her father.--Mr. Knightley immediately got up, and in a manner +decidedly graver than usual, said, + +“I would not go away without seeing you, but I have no time to spare, +and therefore must now be gone directly. I am going to London, to spend +a few days with John and Isabella. Have you any thing to send or say, +besides the 'love,' which nobody carries?” + +“Nothing at all. But is not this a sudden scheme?” + +“Yes--rather--I have been thinking of it some little time.” + +Emma was sure he had not forgiven her; he looked unlike himself. Time, +however, she thought, would tell him that they ought to be friends +again. While he stood, as if meaning to go, but not going--her father +began his inquiries. + +“Well, my dear, and did you get there safely?--And how did you find my +worthy old friend and her daughter?--I dare say they must have been very +much obliged to you for coming. Dear Emma has been to call on Mrs. +and Miss Bates, Mr. Knightley, as I told you before. She is always so +attentive to them!” + +Emma's colour was heightened by this unjust praise; and with a +smile, and shake of the head, which spoke much, she looked at Mr. +Knightley.--It seemed as if there were an instantaneous impression in +her favour, as if his eyes received the truth from hers, and all that +had passed of good in her feelings were at once caught and honoured.-- +He looked at her with a glow of regard. She was warmly gratified--and in +another moment still more so, by a little movement of more than common +friendliness on his part.--He took her hand;--whether she had not +herself made the first motion, she could not say--she might, perhaps, +have rather offered it--but he took her hand, pressed it, and certainly +was on the point of carrying it to his lips--when, from some fancy or +other, he suddenly let it go.--Why he should feel such a scruple, why +he should change his mind when it was all but done, she could not +perceive.--He would have judged better, she thought, if he had not +stopped.--The intention, however, was indubitable; and whether it was +that his manners had in general so little gallantry, or however else it +happened, but she thought nothing became him more.--It was with him, +of so simple, yet so dignified a nature.--She could not but recall the +attempt with great satisfaction. It spoke such perfect amity.--He left +them immediately afterwards--gone in a moment. He always moved with the +alertness of a mind which could neither be undecided nor dilatory, but +now he seemed more sudden than usual in his disappearance. + +Emma could not regret her having gone to Miss Bates, but she wished she +had left her ten minutes earlier;--it would have been a great pleasure +to talk over Jane Fairfax's situation with Mr. Knightley.--Neither +would she regret that he should be going to Brunswick Square, for she +knew how much his visit would be enjoyed--but it might have happened +at a better time--and to have had longer notice of it, would have been +pleasanter.--They parted thorough friends, however; she could not +be deceived as to the meaning of his countenance, and his unfinished +gallantry;--it was all done to assure her that she had fully recovered +his good opinion.--He had been sitting with them half an hour, she +found. It was a pity that she had not come back earlier! + +In the hope of diverting her father's thoughts from the disagreeableness +of Mr. Knightley's going to London; and going so suddenly; and going on +horseback, which she knew would be all very bad; Emma communicated her +news of Jane Fairfax, and her dependence on the effect was justified; +it supplied a very useful check,--interested, without disturbing him. He +had long made up his mind to Jane Fairfax's going out as governess, and +could talk of it cheerfully, but Mr. Knightley's going to London had +been an unexpected blow. + +“I am very glad, indeed, my dear, to hear she is to be so comfortably +settled. Mrs. Elton is very good-natured and agreeable, and I dare say +her acquaintance are just what they ought to be. I hope it is a dry +situation, and that her health will be taken good care of. It ought to +be a first object, as I am sure poor Miss Taylor's always was with me. +You know, my dear, she is going to be to this new lady what Miss Taylor +was to us. And I hope she will be better off in one respect, and not be +induced to go away after it has been her home so long.” + +The following day brought news from Richmond to throw every thing else +into the background. An express arrived at Randalls to announce the +death of Mrs. Churchill! Though her nephew had had no particular reason +to hasten back on her account, she had not lived above six-and-thirty +hours after his return. A sudden seizure of a different nature from any +thing foreboded by her general state, had carried her off after a short +struggle. The great Mrs. Churchill was no more. + +It was felt as such things must be felt. Every body had a degree of +gravity and sorrow; tenderness towards the departed, solicitude for the +surviving friends; and, in a reasonable time, curiosity to know where +she would be buried. Goldsmith tells us, that when lovely woman stoops +to folly, she has nothing to do but to die; and when she stoops to be +disagreeable, it is equally to be recommended as a clearer of ill-fame. +Mrs. Churchill, after being disliked at least twenty-five years, was +now spoken of with compassionate allowances. In one point she was fully +justified. She had never been admitted before to be seriously ill. The +event acquitted her of all the fancifulness, and all the selfishness of +imaginary complaints. + +“Poor Mrs. Churchill! no doubt she had been suffering a great deal: +more than any body had ever supposed--and continual pain would try the +temper. It was a sad event--a great shock--with all her faults, what +would Mr. Churchill do without her? Mr. Churchill's loss would be +dreadful indeed. Mr. Churchill would never get over it.”--Even Mr. +Weston shook his head, and looked solemn, and said, “Ah! poor woman, +who would have thought it!” and resolved, that his mourning should be as +handsome as possible; and his wife sat sighing and moralising over her +broad hems with a commiseration and good sense, true and steady. How it +would affect Frank was among the earliest thoughts of both. It was also +a very early speculation with Emma. The character of Mrs. Churchill, +the grief of her husband--her mind glanced over them both with awe and +compassion--and then rested with lightened feelings on how Frank might +be affected by the event, how benefited, how freed. She saw in a moment +all the possible good. Now, an attachment to Harriet Smith would have +nothing to encounter. Mr. Churchill, independent of his wife, was feared +by nobody; an easy, guidable man, to be persuaded into any thing by his +nephew. All that remained to be wished was, that the nephew should form +the attachment, as, with all her goodwill in the cause, Emma could feel +no certainty of its being already formed. + +Harriet behaved extremely well on the occasion, with great self-command. +What ever she might feel of brighter hope, she betrayed nothing. Emma +was gratified, to observe such a proof in her of strengthened character, +and refrained from any allusion that might endanger its maintenance. +They spoke, therefore, of Mrs. Churchill's death with mutual +forbearance. + +Short letters from Frank were received at Randalls, communicating all +that was immediately important of their state and plans. Mr. Churchill +was better than could be expected; and their first removal, on the +departure of the funeral for Yorkshire, was to be to the house of a very +old friend in Windsor, to whom Mr. Churchill had been promising a +visit the last ten years. At present, there was nothing to be done for +Harriet; good wishes for the future were all that could yet be possible +on Emma's side. + +It was a more pressing concern to shew attention to Jane Fairfax, whose +prospects were closing, while Harriet's opened, and whose engagements +now allowed of no delay in any one at Highbury, who wished to shew her +kindness--and with Emma it was grown into a first wish. She had scarcely +a stronger regret than for her past coldness; and the person, whom she +had been so many months neglecting, was now the very one on whom she +would have lavished every distinction of regard or sympathy. She wanted +to be of use to her; wanted to shew a value for her society, and testify +respect and consideration. She resolved to prevail on her to spend a day +at Hartfield. A note was written to urge it. The invitation was refused, +and by a verbal message. “Miss Fairfax was not well enough to write;” + and when Mr. Perry called at Hartfield, the same morning, it appeared +that she was so much indisposed as to have been visited, though against +her own consent, by himself, and that she was suffering under severe +headaches, and a nervous fever to a degree, which made him doubt the +possibility of her going to Mrs. Smallridge's at the time proposed. +Her health seemed for the moment completely deranged--appetite quite +gone--and though there were no absolutely alarming symptoms, nothing +touching the pulmonary complaint, which was the standing apprehension +of the family, Mr. Perry was uneasy about her. He thought she had +undertaken more than she was equal to, and that she felt it so herself, +though she would not own it. Her spirits seemed overcome. Her +present home, he could not but observe, was unfavourable to a nervous +disorder:--confined always to one room;--he could have wished it +otherwise--and her good aunt, though his very old friend, he must +acknowledge to be not the best companion for an invalid of that +description. Her care and attention could not be questioned; they were, +in fact, only too great. He very much feared that Miss Fairfax derived +more evil than good from them. Emma listened with the warmest concern; +grieved for her more and more, and looked around eager to discover some +way of being useful. To take her--be it only an hour or two--from +her aunt, to give her change of air and scene, and quiet rational +conversation, even for an hour or two, might do her good; and the +following morning she wrote again to say, in the most feeling language +she could command, that she would call for her in the carriage at any +hour that Jane would name--mentioning that she had Mr. Perry's decided +opinion, in favour of such exercise for his patient. The answer was only +in this short note: + +“Miss Fairfax's compliments and thanks, but is quite unequal to any +exercise.” + +Emma felt that her own note had deserved something better; but it was +impossible to quarrel with words, whose tremulous inequality shewed +indisposition so plainly, and she thought only of how she might best +counteract this unwillingness to be seen or assisted. In spite of the +answer, therefore, she ordered the carriage, and drove to Mrs. Bates's, +in the hope that Jane would be induced to join her--but it would not +do;--Miss Bates came to the carriage door, all gratitude, and agreeing +with her most earnestly in thinking an airing might be of the greatest +service--and every thing that message could do was tried--but all in +vain. Miss Bates was obliged to return without success; Jane was +quite unpersuadable; the mere proposal of going out seemed to make her +worse.--Emma wished she could have seen her, and tried her own powers; +but, almost before she could hint the wish, Miss Bates made it appear +that she had promised her niece on no account to let Miss Woodhouse in. +“Indeed, the truth was, that poor dear Jane could not bear to see any +body--any body at all--Mrs. Elton, indeed, could not be denied--and +Mrs. Cole had made such a point--and Mrs. Perry had said so much--but, +except them, Jane would really see nobody.” + +Emma did not want to be classed with the Mrs. Eltons, the Mrs. Perrys, +and the Mrs. Coles, who would force themselves anywhere; neither could +she feel any right of preference herself--she submitted, therefore, and +only questioned Miss Bates farther as to her niece's appetite and diet, +which she longed to be able to assist. On that subject poor Miss Bates +was very unhappy, and very communicative; Jane would hardly eat any +thing:--Mr. Perry recommended nourishing food; but every thing +they could command (and never had any body such good neighbours) was +distasteful. + +Emma, on reaching home, called the housekeeper directly, to an +examination of her stores; and some arrowroot of very superior quality +was speedily despatched to Miss Bates with a most friendly note. In half +an hour the arrowroot was returned, with a thousand thanks from Miss +Bates, but “dear Jane would not be satisfied without its being sent +back; it was a thing she could not take--and, moreover, she insisted on +her saying, that she was not at all in want of any thing.” + +When Emma afterwards heard that Jane Fairfax had been seen wandering +about the meadows, at some distance from Highbury, on the afternoon of +the very day on which she had, under the plea of being unequal to any +exercise, so peremptorily refused to go out with her in the carriage, +she could have no doubt--putting every thing together--that Jane was +resolved to receive no kindness from _her_. She was sorry, very sorry. +Her heart was grieved for a state which seemed but the more pitiable +from this sort of irritation of spirits, inconsistency of action, and +inequality of powers; and it mortified her that she was given so little +credit for proper feeling, or esteemed so little worthy as a friend: but +she had the consolation of knowing that her intentions were good, and of +being able to say to herself, that could Mr. Knightley have been privy +to all her attempts of assisting Jane Fairfax, could he even have seen +into her heart, he would not, on this occasion, have found any thing to +reprove. + + + +CHAPTER X + + +One morning, about ten days after Mrs. Churchill's decease, Emma was +called downstairs to Mr. Weston, who “could not stay five minutes, +and wanted particularly to speak with her.”--He met her at the +parlour-door, and hardly asking her how she did, in the natural key of +his voice, sunk it immediately, to say, unheard by her father, + +“Can you come to Randalls at any time this morning?--Do, if it be +possible. Mrs. Weston wants to see you. She must see you.” + +“Is she unwell?” + +“No, no, not at all--only a little agitated. She would have ordered the +carriage, and come to you, but she must see you _alone_, and that you +know--(nodding towards her father)--Humph!--Can you come?” + +“Certainly. This moment, if you please. It is impossible to refuse what +you ask in such a way. But what can be the matter?--Is she really not +ill?” + +“Depend upon me--but ask no more questions. You will know it all in +time. The most unaccountable business! But hush, hush!” + +To guess what all this meant, was impossible even for Emma. Something +really important seemed announced by his looks; but, as her friend was +well, she endeavoured not to be uneasy, and settling it with her father, +that she would take her walk now, she and Mr. Weston were soon out of +the house together and on their way at a quick pace for Randalls. + +“Now,”--said Emma, when they were fairly beyond the sweep gates,--“now +Mr. Weston, do let me know what has happened.” + +“No, no,”--he gravely replied.--“Don't ask me. I promised my wife to +leave it all to her. She will break it to you better than I can. Do not +be impatient, Emma; it will all come out too soon.” + +“Break it to me,” cried Emma, standing still with terror.--“Good +God!--Mr. Weston, tell me at once.--Something has happened in Brunswick +Square. I know it has. Tell me, I charge you tell me this moment what it +is.” + +“No, indeed you are mistaken.”-- + +“Mr. Weston do not trifle with me.--Consider how many of my dearest +friends are now in Brunswick Square. Which of them is it?--I charge you +by all that is sacred, not to attempt concealment.” + +“Upon my word, Emma.”-- + +“Your word!--why not your honour!--why not say upon your honour, that +it has nothing to do with any of them? Good Heavens!--What can be to be +_broke_ to me, that does not relate to one of that family?” + +“Upon my honour,” said he very seriously, “it does not. It is not in +the smallest degree connected with any human being of the name of +Knightley.” + +Emma's courage returned, and she walked on. + +“I was wrong,” he continued, “in talking of its being _broke_ to you. +I should not have used the expression. In fact, it does not concern +you--it concerns only myself,--that is, we hope.--Humph!--In short, my +dear Emma, there is no occasion to be so uneasy about it. I don't +say that it is not a disagreeable business--but things might be much +worse.--If we walk fast, we shall soon be at Randalls.” + +Emma found that she must wait; and now it required little effort. She +asked no more questions therefore, merely employed her own fancy, and +that soon pointed out to her the probability of its being some money +concern--something just come to light, of a disagreeable nature in the +circumstances of the family,--something which the late event at Richmond +had brought forward. Her fancy was very active. Half a dozen natural +children, perhaps--and poor Frank cut off!--This, though very +undesirable, would be no matter of agony to her. It inspired little more +than an animating curiosity. + +“Who is that gentleman on horseback?” said she, as they +proceeded--speaking more to assist Mr. Weston in keeping his secret, +than with any other view. + +“I do not know.--One of the Otways.--Not Frank;--it is not Frank, I +assure you. You will not see him. He is half way to Windsor by this +time.” + +“Has your son been with you, then?” + +“Oh! yes--did not you know?--Well, well, never mind.” + +For a moment he was silent; and then added, in a tone much more guarded +and demure, + +“Yes, Frank came over this morning, just to ask us how we did.” + +They hurried on, and were speedily at Randalls.--“Well, my dear,” said +he, as they entered the room--“I have brought her, and now I hope you +will soon be better. I shall leave you together. There is no use in +delay. I shall not be far off, if you want me.”--And Emma distinctly +heard him add, in a lower tone, before he quitted the room,--“I have +been as good as my word. She has not the least idea.” + +Mrs. Weston was looking so ill, and had an air of so much perturbation, +that Emma's uneasiness increased; and the moment they were alone, she +eagerly said, + +“What is it my dear friend? Something of a very unpleasant nature, I +find, has occurred;--do let me know directly what it is. I have been +walking all this way in complete suspense. We both abhor suspense. +Do not let mine continue longer. It will do you good to speak of your +distress, whatever it may be.” + +“Have you indeed no idea?” said Mrs. Weston in a trembling voice. +“Cannot you, my dear Emma--cannot you form a guess as to what you are to +hear?” + +“So far as that it relates to Mr. Frank Churchill, I do guess.” + +“You are right. It does relate to him, and I will tell you directly;” + (resuming her work, and seeming resolved against looking up.) “He has +been here this very morning, on a most extraordinary errand. It is +impossible to express our surprize. He came to speak to his father on a +subject,--to announce an attachment--” + +She stopped to breathe. Emma thought first of herself, and then of +Harriet. + +“More than an attachment, indeed,” resumed Mrs. Weston; “an +engagement--a positive engagement.--What will you say, Emma--what will +any body say, when it is known that Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax are +engaged;--nay, that they have been long engaged!” + +Emma even jumped with surprize;--and, horror-struck, exclaimed, + +“Jane Fairfax!--Good God! You are not serious? You do not mean it?” + +“You may well be amazed,” returned Mrs. Weston, still averting her eyes, +and talking on with eagerness, that Emma might have time to recover-- +“You may well be amazed. But it is even so. There has been a solemn +engagement between them ever since October--formed at Weymouth, and +kept a secret from every body. Not a creature knowing it but +themselves--neither the Campbells, nor her family, nor his.--It is so +wonderful, that though perfectly convinced of the fact, it is yet almost +incredible to myself. I can hardly believe it.--I thought I knew him.” + +Emma scarcely heard what was said.--Her mind was divided between two +ideas--her own former conversations with him about Miss Fairfax; and +poor Harriet;--and for some time she could only exclaim, and require +confirmation, repeated confirmation. + +“Well,” said she at last, trying to recover herself; “this is a +circumstance which I must think of at least half a day, before I can at +all comprehend it. What!--engaged to her all the winter--before either +of them came to Highbury?” + +“Engaged since October,--secretly engaged.--It has hurt me, Emma, very +much. It has hurt his father equally. _Some_ _part_ of his conduct we +cannot excuse.” + +Emma pondered a moment, and then replied, “I will not pretend _not_ to +understand you; and to give you all the relief in my power, be assured +that no such effect has followed his attentions to me, as you are +apprehensive of.” + +Mrs. Weston looked up, afraid to believe; but Emma's countenance was as +steady as her words. + +“That you may have less difficulty in believing this boast, of my +present perfect indifference,” she continued, “I will farther tell you, +that there was a period in the early part of our acquaintance, when I +did like him, when I was very much disposed to be attached to him--nay, +was attached--and how it came to cease, is perhaps the wonder. +Fortunately, however, it did cease. I have really for some time past, +for at least these three months, cared nothing about him. You may +believe me, Mrs. Weston. This is the simple truth.” + +Mrs. Weston kissed her with tears of joy; and when she could find +utterance, assured her, that this protestation had done her more good +than any thing else in the world could do. + +“Mr. Weston will be almost as much relieved as myself,” said she. “On +this point we have been wretched. It was our darling wish that you +might be attached to each other--and we were persuaded that it was so.-- +Imagine what we have been feeling on your account.” + +“I have escaped; and that I should escape, may be a matter of grateful +wonder to you and myself. But this does not acquit _him_, Mrs. Weston; +and I must say, that I think him greatly to blame. What right had he +to come among us with affection and faith engaged, and with manners +so _very_ disengaged? What right had he to endeavour to please, as +he certainly did--to distinguish any one young woman with persevering +attention, as he certainly did--while he really belonged to +another?--How could he tell what mischief he might be doing?--How could +he tell that he might not be making me in love with him?--very wrong, +very wrong indeed.” + +“From something that he said, my dear Emma, I rather imagine--” + +“And how could _she_ bear such behaviour! Composure with a witness! +to look on, while repeated attentions were offering to another woman, +before her face, and not resent it.--That is a degree of placidity, +which I can neither comprehend nor respect.” + +“There were misunderstandings between them, Emma; he said so expressly. +He had not time to enter into much explanation. He was here only a +quarter of an hour, and in a state of agitation which did not allow +the full use even of the time he could stay--but that there had been +misunderstandings he decidedly said. The present crisis, indeed, +seemed to be brought on by them; and those misunderstandings might very +possibly arise from the impropriety of his conduct.” + +“Impropriety! Oh! Mrs. Weston--it is too calm a censure. Much, much +beyond impropriety!--It has sunk him, I cannot say how it has sunk him +in my opinion. So unlike what a man should be!--None of that upright +integrity, that strict adherence to truth and principle, that disdain of +trick and littleness, which a man should display in every transaction of +his life.” + +“Nay, dear Emma, now I must take his part; for though he has been wrong +in this instance, I have known him long enough to answer for his having +many, very many, good qualities; and--” + +“Good God!” cried Emma, not attending to her.--“Mrs. Smallridge, too! +Jane actually on the point of going as governess! What could he mean by +such horrible indelicacy? To suffer her to engage herself--to suffer her +even to think of such a measure!” + +“He knew nothing about it, Emma. On this article I can fully acquit +him. It was a private resolution of hers, not communicated to him--or at +least not communicated in a way to carry conviction.--Till yesterday, I +know he said he was in the dark as to her plans. They burst on him, I do +not know how, but by some letter or message--and it was the discovery of +what she was doing, of this very project of hers, which determined him +to come forward at once, own it all to his uncle, throw himself on +his kindness, and, in short, put an end to the miserable state of +concealment that had been carrying on so long.” + +Emma began to listen better. + +“I am to hear from him soon,” continued Mrs. Weston. “He told me at +parting, that he should soon write; and he spoke in a manner which +seemed to promise me many particulars that could not be given now. Let +us wait, therefore, for this letter. It may bring many extenuations. It +may make many things intelligible and excusable which now are not to +be understood. Don't let us be severe, don't let us be in a hurry to +condemn him. Let us have patience. I must love him; and now that I am +satisfied on one point, the one material point, I am sincerely anxious +for its all turning out well, and ready to hope that it may. They must +both have suffered a great deal under such a system of secresy and +concealment.” + +“_His_ sufferings,” replied Emma dryly, “do not appear to have done him +much harm. Well, and how did Mr. Churchill take it?” + +“Most favourably for his nephew--gave his consent with scarcely a +difficulty. Conceive what the events of a week have done in that family! +While poor Mrs. Churchill lived, I suppose there could not have been a +hope, a chance, a possibility;--but scarcely are her remains at rest in +the family vault, than her husband is persuaded to act exactly opposite +to what she would have required. What a blessing it is, when undue +influence does not survive the grave!--He gave his consent with very +little persuasion.” + +“Ah!” thought Emma, “he would have done as much for Harriet.” + +“This was settled last night, and Frank was off with the light this +morning. He stopped at Highbury, at the Bates's, I fancy, some time--and +then came on hither; but was in such a hurry to get back to his uncle, +to whom he is just now more necessary than ever, that, as I tell you, +he could stay with us but a quarter of an hour.--He was very much +agitated--very much, indeed--to a degree that made him appear quite +a different creature from any thing I had ever seen him before.--In +addition to all the rest, there had been the shock of finding her so +very unwell, which he had had no previous suspicion of--and there was +every appearance of his having been feeling a great deal.” + +“And do you really believe the affair to have been carrying on with such +perfect secresy?--The Campbells, the Dixons, did none of them know of +the engagement?” + +Emma could not speak the name of Dixon without a little blush. + +“None; not one. He positively said that it had been known to no being in +the world but their two selves.” + +“Well,” said Emma, “I suppose we shall gradually grow reconciled to the +idea, and I wish them very happy. But I shall always think it a +very abominable sort of proceeding. What has it been but a system of +hypocrisy and deceit,--espionage, and treachery?--To come among us with +professions of openness and simplicity; and such a league in secret +to judge us all!--Here have we been, the whole winter and spring, +completely duped, fancying ourselves all on an equal footing of truth +and honour, with two people in the midst of us who may have been +carrying round, comparing and sitting in judgment on sentiments and +words that were never meant for both to hear.--They must take the +consequence, if they have heard each other spoken of in a way not +perfectly agreeable!” + +“I am quite easy on that head,” replied Mrs. Weston. “I am very sure +that I never said any thing of either to the other, which both might not +have heard.” + +“You are in luck.--Your only blunder was confined to my ear, when you +imagined a certain friend of ours in love with the lady.” + +“True. But as I have always had a thoroughly good opinion of Miss +Fairfax, I never could, under any blunder, have spoken ill of her; and +as to speaking ill of him, there I must have been safe.” + +At this moment Mr. Weston appeared at a little distance from the window, +evidently on the watch. His wife gave him a look which invited him +in; and, while he was coming round, added, “Now, dearest Emma, let me +intreat you to say and look every thing that may set his heart at ease, +and incline him to be satisfied with the match. Let us make the best of +it--and, indeed, almost every thing may be fairly said in her favour. It +is not a connexion to gratify; but if Mr. Churchill does not feel that, +why should we? and it may be a very fortunate circumstance for him, for +Frank, I mean, that he should have attached himself to a girl of such +steadiness of character and good judgment as I have always given her +credit for--and still am disposed to give her credit for, in spite of +this one great deviation from the strict rule of right. And how much may +be said in her situation for even that error!” + +“Much, indeed!” cried Emma feelingly. “If a woman can ever be +excused for thinking only of herself, it is in a situation like Jane +Fairfax's.--Of such, one may almost say, that 'the world is not their's, +nor the world's law.'” + +She met Mr. Weston on his entrance, with a smiling countenance, +exclaiming, + +“A very pretty trick you have been playing me, upon my word! This was a +device, I suppose, to sport with my curiosity, and exercise my talent of +guessing. But you really frightened me. I thought you had lost half +your property, at least. And here, instead of its being a matter of +condolence, it turns out to be one of congratulation.--I congratulate +you, Mr. Weston, with all my heart, on the prospect of having one of the +most lovely and accomplished young women in England for your daughter.” + +A glance or two between him and his wife, convinced him that all was as +right as this speech proclaimed; and its happy effect on his spirits was +immediate. His air and voice recovered their usual briskness: he shook +her heartily and gratefully by the hand, and entered on the subject in +a manner to prove, that he now only wanted time and persuasion to think +the engagement no very bad thing. His companions suggested only what +could palliate imprudence, or smooth objections; and by the time they +had talked it all over together, and he had talked it all over again +with Emma, in their walk back to Hartfield, he was become perfectly +reconciled, and not far from thinking it the very best thing that Frank +could possibly have done. + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +“Harriet, poor Harriet!”--Those were the words; in them lay the +tormenting ideas which Emma could not get rid of, and which constituted +the real misery of the business to her. Frank Churchill had behaved very +ill by herself--very ill in many ways,--but it was not so much _his_ +behaviour as her _own_, which made her so angry with him. It was the +scrape which he had drawn her into on Harriet's account, that gave the +deepest hue to his offence.--Poor Harriet! to be a second time the +dupe of her misconceptions and flattery. Mr. Knightley had spoken +prophetically, when he once said, “Emma, you have been no friend +to Harriet Smith.”--She was afraid she had done her nothing but +disservice.--It was true that she had not to charge herself, in this +instance as in the former, with being the sole and original author of +the mischief; with having suggested such feelings as might otherwise +never have entered Harriet's imagination; for Harriet had acknowledged +her admiration and preference of Frank Churchill before she had ever +given her a hint on the subject; but she felt completely guilty +of having encouraged what she might have repressed. She might have +prevented the indulgence and increase of such sentiments. Her influence +would have been enough. And now she was very conscious that she ought +to have prevented them.--She felt that she had been risking her friend's +happiness on most insufficient grounds. Common sense would have directed +her to tell Harriet, that she must not allow herself to think of him, +and that there were five hundred chances to one against his ever caring +for her.--“But, with common sense,” she added, “I am afraid I have had +little to do.” + +She was extremely angry with herself. If she could not have been angry +with Frank Churchill too, it would have been dreadful.--As for Jane +Fairfax, she might at least relieve her feelings from any present +solicitude on her account. Harriet would be anxiety enough; she need +no longer be unhappy about Jane, whose troubles and whose ill-health +having, of course, the same origin, must be equally under cure.--Her +days of insignificance and evil were over.--She would soon be well, and +happy, and prosperous.--Emma could now imagine why her own attentions +had been slighted. This discovery laid many smaller matters open. No +doubt it had been from jealousy.--In Jane's eyes she had been a rival; +and well might any thing she could offer of assistance or regard be +repulsed. An airing in the Hartfield carriage would have been the rack, +and arrowroot from the Hartfield storeroom must have been poison. She +understood it all; and as far as her mind could disengage itself from +the injustice and selfishness of angry feelings, she acknowledged that +Jane Fairfax would have neither elevation nor happiness beyond her +desert. But poor Harriet was such an engrossing charge! There was little +sympathy to be spared for any body else. Emma was sadly fearful +that this second disappointment would be more severe than the first. +Considering the very superior claims of the object, it ought; and +judging by its apparently stronger effect on Harriet's mind, producing +reserve and self-command, it would.--She must communicate the painful +truth, however, and as soon as possible. An injunction of secresy had +been among Mr. Weston's parting words. “For the present, the whole +affair was to be completely a secret. Mr. Churchill had made a point of +it, as a token of respect to the wife he had so very recently lost; +and every body admitted it to be no more than due decorum.”--Emma had +promised; but still Harriet must be excepted. It was her superior duty. + +In spite of her vexation, she could not help feeling it almost +ridiculous, that she should have the very same distressing and delicate +office to perform by Harriet, which Mrs. Weston had just gone through by +herself. The intelligence, which had been so anxiously announced to her, +she was now to be anxiously announcing to another. Her heart beat quick +on hearing Harriet's footstep and voice; so, she supposed, had poor Mrs. +Weston felt when _she_ was approaching Randalls. Could the event of +the disclosure bear an equal resemblance!--But of that, unfortunately, +there could be no chance. + +“Well, Miss Woodhouse!” cried Harriet, coming eagerly into the room--“is +not this the oddest news that ever was?” + +“What news do you mean?” replied Emma, unable to guess, by look or +voice, whether Harriet could indeed have received any hint. + +“About Jane Fairfax. Did you ever hear any thing so strange? Oh!--you +need not be afraid of owning it to me, for Mr. Weston has told me +himself. I met him just now. He told me it was to be a great secret; +and, therefore, I should not think of mentioning it to any body but you, +but he said you knew it.” + +“What did Mr. Weston tell you?”--said Emma, still perplexed. + +“Oh! he told me all about it; that Jane Fairfax and Mr. Frank Churchill +are to be married, and that they have been privately engaged to one +another this long while. How very odd!” + +It was, indeed, so odd; Harriet's behaviour was so extremely odd, +that Emma did not know how to understand it. Her character appeared +absolutely changed. She seemed to propose shewing no agitation, or +disappointment, or peculiar concern in the discovery. Emma looked at +her, quite unable to speak. + +“Had you any idea,” cried Harriet, “of his being in love with her?--You, +perhaps, might.--You (blushing as she spoke) who can see into every +body's heart; but nobody else--” + +“Upon my word,” said Emma, “I begin to doubt my having any such talent. +Can you seriously ask me, Harriet, whether I imagined him attached +to another woman at the very time that I was--tacitly, if not +openly--encouraging you to give way to your own feelings?--I never +had the slightest suspicion, till within the last hour, of Mr. Frank +Churchill's having the least regard for Jane Fairfax. You may be very +sure that if I had, I should have cautioned you accordingly.” + +“Me!” cried Harriet, colouring, and astonished. “Why should you caution +me?--You do not think I care about Mr. Frank Churchill.” + +“I am delighted to hear you speak so stoutly on the subject,” replied +Emma, smiling; “but you do not mean to deny that there was a time--and +not very distant either--when you gave me reason to understand that you +did care about him?” + +“Him!--never, never. Dear Miss Woodhouse, how could you so mistake me?” + turning away distressed. + +“Harriet!” cried Emma, after a moment's pause--“What do you mean?--Good +Heaven! what do you mean?--Mistake you!--Am I to suppose then?--” + +She could not speak another word.--Her voice was lost; and she sat down, +waiting in great terror till Harriet should answer. + +Harriet, who was standing at some distance, and with face turned from +her, did not immediately say any thing; and when she did speak, it was +in a voice nearly as agitated as Emma's. + +“I should not have thought it possible,” she began, “that you could have +misunderstood me! I know we agreed never to name him--but considering +how infinitely superior he is to every body else, I should not have +thought it possible that I could be supposed to mean any other person. +Mr. Frank Churchill, indeed! I do not know who would ever look at him in +the company of the other. I hope I have a better taste than to think of +Mr. Frank Churchill, who is like nobody by his side. And that you should +have been so mistaken, is amazing!--I am sure, but for believing that +you entirely approved and meant to encourage me in my attachment, I +should have considered it at first too great a presumption almost, +to dare to think of him. At first, if you had not told me that more +wonderful things had happened; that there had been matches of greater +disparity (those were your very words);--I should not have dared to +give way to--I should not have thought it possible--But if _you_, who +had been always acquainted with him--” + +“Harriet!” cried Emma, collecting herself resolutely--“Let us understand +each other now, without the possibility of farther mistake. Are you +speaking of--Mr. Knightley?” + +“To be sure I am. I never could have an idea of any body else--and so +I thought you knew. When we talked about him, it was as clear as +possible.” + +“Not quite,” returned Emma, with forced calmness, “for all that you then +said, appeared to me to relate to a different person. I could almost +assert that you had _named_ Mr. Frank Churchill. I am sure the service +Mr. Frank Churchill had rendered you, in protecting you from the +gipsies, was spoken of.” + +“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, how you do forget!” + +“My dear Harriet, I perfectly remember the substance of what I said on +the occasion. I told you that I did not wonder at your attachment; +that considering the service he had rendered you, it was extremely +natural:--and you agreed to it, expressing yourself very warmly as to +your sense of that service, and mentioning even what your sensations had +been in seeing him come forward to your rescue.--The impression of it is +strong on my memory.” + +“Oh, dear,” cried Harriet, “now I recollect what you mean; but I +was thinking of something very different at the time. It was not the +gipsies--it was not Mr. Frank Churchill that I meant. No! (with some +elevation) I was thinking of a much more precious circumstance--of Mr. +Knightley's coming and asking me to dance, when Mr. Elton would not +stand up with me; and when there was no other partner in the room. That +was the kind action; that was the noble benevolence and generosity; that +was the service which made me begin to feel how superior he was to every +other being upon earth.” + +“Good God!” cried Emma, “this has been a most unfortunate--most +deplorable mistake!--What is to be done?” + +“You would not have encouraged me, then, if you had understood me? At +least, however, I cannot be worse off than I should have been, if the +other had been the person; and now--it _is_ possible--” + +She paused a few moments. Emma could not speak. + +“I do not wonder, Miss Woodhouse,” she resumed, “that you should feel a +great difference between the two, as to me or as to any body. You must +think one five hundred million times more above me than the other. But +I hope, Miss Woodhouse, that supposing--that if--strange as it may +appear--. But you know they were your own words, that _more_ wonderful +things had happened, matches of _greater_ disparity had taken place than +between Mr. Frank Churchill and me; and, therefore, it seems as if such +a thing even as this, may have occurred before--and if I should be so +fortunate, beyond expression, as to--if Mr. Knightley should really--if +_he_ does not mind the disparity, I hope, dear Miss Woodhouse, you will +not set yourself against it, and try to put difficulties in the way. But +you are too good for that, I am sure.” + +Harriet was standing at one of the windows. Emma turned round to look at +her in consternation, and hastily said, + +“Have you any idea of Mr. Knightley's returning your affection?” + +“Yes,” replied Harriet modestly, but not fearfully--“I must say that I +have.” + +Emma's eyes were instantly withdrawn; and she sat silently meditating, +in a fixed attitude, for a few minutes. A few minutes were sufficient +for making her acquainted with her own heart. A mind like hers, +once opening to suspicion, made rapid progress. She touched--she +admitted--she acknowledged the whole truth. Why was it so much worse +that Harriet should be in love with Mr. Knightley, than with Frank +Churchill? Why was the evil so dreadfully increased by Harriet's having +some hope of a return? It darted through her, with the speed of an +arrow, that Mr. Knightley must marry no one but herself! + +Her own conduct, as well as her own heart, was before her in the same +few minutes. She saw it all with a clearness which had never blessed +her before. How improperly had she been acting by Harriet! How +inconsiderate, how indelicate, how irrational, how unfeeling had been +her conduct! What blindness, what madness, had led her on! It struck her +with dreadful force, and she was ready to give it every bad name in the +world. Some portion of respect for herself, however, in spite of all +these demerits--some concern for her own appearance, and a strong sense +of justice by Harriet--(there would be no need of _compassion_ to the +girl who believed herself loved by Mr. Knightley--but justice required +that she should not be made unhappy by any coldness now,) gave Emma the +resolution to sit and endure farther with calmness, with even apparent +kindness.--For her own advantage indeed, it was fit that the utmost +extent of Harriet's hopes should be enquired into; and Harriet had done +nothing to forfeit the regard and interest which had been so voluntarily +formed and maintained--or to deserve to be slighted by the person, whose +counsels had never led her right.--Rousing from reflection, therefore, +and subduing her emotion, she turned to Harriet again, and, in a more +inviting accent, renewed the conversation; for as to the subject which +had first introduced it, the wonderful story of Jane Fairfax, that was +quite sunk and lost.--Neither of them thought but of Mr. Knightley and +themselves. + +Harriet, who had been standing in no unhappy reverie, was yet very glad +to be called from it, by the now encouraging manner of such a judge, and +such a friend as Miss Woodhouse, and only wanted invitation, to give +the history of her hopes with great, though trembling delight.--Emma's +tremblings as she asked, and as she listened, were better concealed than +Harriet's, but they were not less. Her voice was not unsteady; but her +mind was in all the perturbation that such a development of self, such +a burst of threatening evil, such a confusion of sudden and perplexing +emotions, must create.--She listened with much inward suffering, but +with great outward patience, to Harriet's detail.--Methodical, or well +arranged, or very well delivered, it could not be expected to be; but it +contained, when separated from all the feebleness and tautology of +the narration, a substance to sink her spirit--especially with the +corroborating circumstances, which her own memory brought in favour of +Mr. Knightley's most improved opinion of Harriet. + +Harriet had been conscious of a difference in his behaviour ever since +those two decisive dances.--Emma knew that he had, on that occasion, +found her much superior to his expectation. From that evening, or at +least from the time of Miss Woodhouse's encouraging her to think of him, +Harriet had begun to be sensible of his talking to her much more than he +had been used to do, and of his having indeed quite a different manner +towards her; a manner of kindness and sweetness!--Latterly she had been +more and more aware of it. When they had been all walking together, +he had so often come and walked by her, and talked so very +delightfully!--He seemed to want to be acquainted with her. Emma knew it +to have been very much the case. She had often observed the change, to +almost the same extent.--Harriet repeated expressions of approbation +and praise from him--and Emma felt them to be in the closest agreement +with what she had known of his opinion of Harriet. He praised her for +being without art or affectation, for having simple, honest, generous, +feelings.--She knew that he saw such recommendations in Harriet; he +had dwelt on them to her more than once.--Much that lived in Harriet's +memory, many little particulars of the notice she had received from +him, a look, a speech, a removal from one chair to another, a compliment +implied, a preference inferred, had been unnoticed, because unsuspected, +by Emma. Circumstances that might swell to half an hour's relation, +and contained multiplied proofs to her who had seen them, had passed +undiscerned by her who now heard them; but the two latest occurrences to +be mentioned, the two of strongest promise to Harriet, were not without +some degree of witness from Emma herself.--The first, was his walking +with her apart from the others, in the lime-walk at Donwell, where they +had been walking some time before Emma came, and he had taken pains (as +she was convinced) to draw her from the rest to himself--and at first, +he had talked to her in a more particular way than he had ever done +before, in a very particular way indeed!--(Harriet could not recall +it without a blush.) He seemed to be almost asking her, whether her +affections were engaged.--But as soon as she (Miss Woodhouse) appeared +likely to join them, he changed the subject, and began talking about +farming:--The second, was his having sat talking with her nearly half +an hour before Emma came back from her visit, the very last morning of +his being at Hartfield--though, when he first came in, he had said that +he could not stay five minutes--and his having told her, during their +conversation, that though he must go to London, it was very much against +his inclination that he left home at all, which was much more (as +Emma felt) than he had acknowledged to _her_. The superior degree of +confidence towards Harriet, which this one article marked, gave her +severe pain. + +On the subject of the first of the two circumstances, she did, after a +little reflection, venture the following question. “Might he not?--Is +not it possible, that when enquiring, as you thought, into the state of +your affections, he might be alluding to Mr. Martin--he might have +Mr. Martin's interest in view? But Harriet rejected the suspicion with +spirit. + +“Mr. Martin! No indeed!--There was not a hint of Mr. Martin. I hope I +know better now, than to care for Mr. Martin, or to be suspected of it.” + +When Harriet had closed her evidence, she appealed to her dear Miss +Woodhouse, to say whether she had not good ground for hope. + +“I never should have presumed to think of it at first,” said she, “but +for you. You told me to observe him carefully, and let his behaviour +be the rule of mine--and so I have. But now I seem to feel that I may +deserve him; and that if he does chuse me, it will not be any thing so +very wonderful.” + +The bitter feelings occasioned by this speech, the many bitter feelings, +made the utmost exertion necessary on Emma's side, to enable her to say +on reply, + +“Harriet, I will only venture to declare, that Mr. Knightley is the last +man in the world, who would intentionally give any woman the idea of his +feeling for her more than he really does.” + +Harriet seemed ready to worship her friend for a sentence so +satisfactory; and Emma was only saved from raptures and fondness, which +at that moment would have been dreadful penance, by the sound of her +father's footsteps. He was coming through the hall. Harriet was too +much agitated to encounter him. “She could not compose herself-- +Mr. Woodhouse would be alarmed--she had better go;”--with most ready +encouragement from her friend, therefore, she passed off through another +door--and the moment she was gone, this was the spontaneous burst of +Emma's feelings: “Oh God! that I had never seen her!” + +The rest of the day, the following night, were hardly enough for her +thoughts.--She was bewildered amidst the confusion of all that had +rushed on her within the last few hours. Every moment had brought a +fresh surprize; and every surprize must be matter of humiliation to +her.--How to understand it all! How to understand the deceptions she had +been thus practising on herself, and living under!--The blunders, the +blindness of her own head and heart!--she sat still, she walked about, +she tried her own room, she tried the shrubbery--in every place, every +posture, she perceived that she had acted most weakly; that she had +been imposed on by others in a most mortifying degree; that she had +been imposing on herself in a degree yet more mortifying; that she +was wretched, and should probably find this day but the beginning of +wretchedness. + +To understand, thoroughly understand her own heart, was the first +endeavour. To that point went every leisure moment which her father's +claims on her allowed, and every moment of involuntary absence of mind. + +How long had Mr. Knightley been so dear to her, as every feeling +declared him now to be? When had his influence, such influence begun?-- +When had he succeeded to that place in her affection, which Frank +Churchill had once, for a short period, occupied?--She looked back; +she compared the two--compared them, as they had always stood in her +estimation, from the time of the latter's becoming known to her--and as +they must at any time have been compared by her, had it--oh! had it, by +any blessed felicity, occurred to her, to institute the comparison.--She +saw that there never had been a time when she did not consider Mr. +Knightley as infinitely the superior, or when his regard for her had not +been infinitely the most dear. She saw, that in persuading herself, +in fancying, in acting to the contrary, she had been entirely under a +delusion, totally ignorant of her own heart--and, in short, that she had +never really cared for Frank Churchill at all! + +This was the conclusion of the first series of reflection. This was +the knowledge of herself, on the first question of inquiry, which +she reached; and without being long in reaching it.--She was most +sorrowfully indignant; ashamed of every sensation but the one revealed +to her--her affection for Mr. Knightley.--Every other part of her mind +was disgusting. + +With insufferable vanity had she believed herself in the secret of every +body's feelings; with unpardonable arrogance proposed to arrange every +body's destiny. She was proved to have been universally mistaken; and +she had not quite done nothing--for she had done mischief. She had +brought evil on Harriet, on herself, and she too much feared, on Mr. +Knightley.--Were this most unequal of all connexions to take place, on +her must rest all the reproach of having given it a beginning; for his +attachment, she must believe to be produced only by a consciousness of +Harriet's;--and even were this not the case, he would never have known +Harriet at all but for her folly. + +Mr. Knightley and Harriet Smith!--It was a union to distance every +wonder of the kind.--The attachment of Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfax +became commonplace, threadbare, stale in the comparison, exciting no +surprize, presenting no disparity, affording nothing to be said or +thought.--Mr. Knightley and Harriet Smith!--Such an elevation on her +side! Such a debasement on his! It was horrible to Emma to think how it +must sink him in the general opinion, to foresee the smiles, the sneers, +the merriment it would prompt at his expense; the mortification and +disdain of his brother, the thousand inconveniences to himself.--Could +it be?--No; it was impossible. And yet it was far, very far, from +impossible.--Was it a new circumstance for a man of first-rate abilities +to be captivated by very inferior powers? Was it new for one, perhaps +too busy to seek, to be the prize of a girl who would seek him?--Was +it new for any thing in this world to be unequal, inconsistent, +incongruous--or for chance and circumstance (as second causes) to direct +the human fate? + +Oh! had she never brought Harriet forward! Had she left her where she +ought, and where he had told her she ought!--Had she not, with a +folly which no tongue could express, prevented her marrying the +unexceptionable young man who would have made her happy and respectable +in the line of life to which she ought to belong--all would have been +safe; none of this dreadful sequel would have been. + +How Harriet could ever have had the presumption to raise her thoughts to +Mr. Knightley!--How she could dare to fancy herself the chosen of such +a man till actually assured of it!--But Harriet was less humble, had +fewer scruples than formerly.--Her inferiority, whether of mind or +situation, seemed little felt.--She had seemed more sensible of Mr. +Elton's being to stoop in marrying her, than she now seemed of Mr. +Knightley's.--Alas! was not that her own doing too? Who had been at +pains to give Harriet notions of self-consequence but herself?--Who but +herself had taught her, that she was to elevate herself if possible, +and that her claims were great to a high worldly establishment?--If +Harriet, from being humble, were grown vain, it was her doing too. + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Till now that she was threatened with its loss, Emma had never known +how much of her happiness depended on being _first_ with Mr. Knightley, +first in interest and affection.--Satisfied that it was so, and feeling +it her due, she had enjoyed it without reflection; and only in the +dread of being supplanted, found how inexpressibly important it had +been.--Long, very long, she felt she had been first; for, having no +female connexions of his own, there had been only Isabella whose claims +could be compared with hers, and she had always known exactly how far +he loved and esteemed Isabella. She had herself been first with him for +many years past. She had not deserved it; she had often been negligent +or perverse, slighting his advice, or even wilfully opposing him, +insensible of half his merits, and quarrelling with him because he would +not acknowledge her false and insolent estimate of her own--but still, +from family attachment and habit, and thorough excellence of mind, he +had loved her, and watched over her from a girl, with an endeavour to +improve her, and an anxiety for her doing right, which no other creature +had at all shared. In spite of all her faults, she knew she was dear +to him; might she not say, very dear?--When the suggestions of hope, +however, which must follow here, presented themselves, she could not +presume to indulge them. Harriet Smith might think herself not unworthy +of being peculiarly, exclusively, passionately loved by Mr. Knightley. +_She_ could not. She could not flatter herself with any idea of +blindness in his attachment to _her_. She had received a very recent +proof of its impartiality.--How shocked had he been by her behaviour to +Miss Bates! How directly, how strongly had he expressed himself to her +on the subject!--Not too strongly for the offence--but far, far too +strongly to issue from any feeling softer than upright justice and +clear-sighted goodwill.--She had no hope, nothing to deserve the name +of hope, that he could have that sort of affection for herself which was +now in question; but there was a hope (at times a slight one, at +times much stronger,) that Harriet might have deceived herself, and be +overrating his regard for _her_.--Wish it she must, for his sake--be the +consequence nothing to herself, but his remaining single all his life. +Could she be secure of that, indeed, of his never marrying at all, she +believed she should be perfectly satisfied.--Let him but continue the +same Mr. Knightley to her and her father, the same Mr. Knightley to +all the world; let Donwell and Hartfield lose none of their precious +intercourse of friendship and confidence, and her peace would be +fully secured.--Marriage, in fact, would not do for her. It would be +incompatible with what she owed to her father, and with what she felt +for him. Nothing should separate her from her father. She would not +marry, even if she were asked by Mr. Knightley. + +It must be her ardent wish that Harriet might be disappointed; and she +hoped, that when able to see them together again, she might at least +be able to ascertain what the chances for it were.--She should see them +henceforward with the closest observance; and wretchedly as she had +hitherto misunderstood even those she was watching, she did not know how +to admit that she could be blinded here.--He was expected back every +day. The power of observation would be soon given--frightfully soon it +appeared when her thoughts were in one course. In the meanwhile, she +resolved against seeing Harriet.--It would do neither of them good, +it would do the subject no good, to be talking of it farther.--She was +resolved not to be convinced, as long as she could doubt, and yet had +no authority for opposing Harriet's confidence. To talk would be only to +irritate.--She wrote to her, therefore, kindly, but decisively, to beg +that she would not, at present, come to Hartfield; acknowledging it to +be her conviction, that all farther confidential discussion of _one_ +topic had better be avoided; and hoping, that if a few days were allowed +to pass before they met again, except in the company of others--she +objected only to a tete-a-tete--they might be able to act as if they +had forgotten the conversation of yesterday.--Harriet submitted, and +approved, and was grateful. + +This point was just arranged, when a visitor arrived to tear Emma's +thoughts a little from the one subject which had engrossed them, +sleeping or waking, the last twenty-four hours--Mrs. Weston, who had +been calling on her daughter-in-law elect, and took Hartfield in her +way home, almost as much in duty to Emma as in pleasure to herself, to +relate all the particulars of so interesting an interview. + +Mr. Weston had accompanied her to Mrs. Bates's, and gone through his +share of this essential attention most handsomely; but she having then +induced Miss Fairfax to join her in an airing, was now returned with +much more to say, and much more to say with satisfaction, than a quarter +of an hour spent in Mrs. Bates's parlour, with all the encumbrance of +awkward feelings, could have afforded. + +A little curiosity Emma had; and she made the most of it while her +friend related. Mrs. Weston had set off to pay the visit in a good deal +of agitation herself; and in the first place had wished not to go at all +at present, to be allowed merely to write to Miss Fairfax instead, and +to defer this ceremonious call till a little time had passed, and Mr. +Churchill could be reconciled to the engagement's becoming known; as, +considering every thing, she thought such a visit could not be paid +without leading to reports:--but Mr. Weston had thought differently; he +was extremely anxious to shew his approbation to Miss Fairfax and her +family, and did not conceive that any suspicion could be excited by it; +or if it were, that it would be of any consequence; for “such things,” + he observed, “always got about.” Emma smiled, and felt that Mr. Weston +had very good reason for saying so. They had gone, in short--and very +great had been the evident distress and confusion of the lady. She had +hardly been able to speak a word, and every look and action had shewn +how deeply she was suffering from consciousness. The quiet, heart-felt +satisfaction of the old lady, and the rapturous delight of her +daughter--who proved even too joyous to talk as usual, had been a +gratifying, yet almost an affecting, scene. They were both so truly +respectable in their happiness, so disinterested in every sensation; +thought so much of Jane; so much of every body, and so little of +themselves, that every kindly feeling was at work for them. Miss +Fairfax's recent illness had offered a fair plea for Mrs. Weston to +invite her to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but, +on being pressed had yielded; and, in the course of their drive, +Mrs. Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her +embarrassment, as to bring her to converse on the important subject. +Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their first reception, +and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling +towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but +when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the +present and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs. Weston was +convinced that such conversation must be the greatest relief to her +companion, pent up within her own mind as every thing had so long been, +and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject. + +“On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so +many months,” continued Mrs. Weston, “she was energetic. This was one +of her expressions. 'I will not say, that since I entered into the +engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have +never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:'--and the quivering lip, +Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart.” + +“Poor girl!” said Emma. “She thinks herself wrong, then, for having +consented to a private engagement?” + +“Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed +to blame herself. 'The consequence,' said she, 'has been a state of +perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment +that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no +expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting contrary to all +my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken, +and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my conscience tells me +ought not to be.' 'Do not imagine, madam,' she continued, 'that I was +taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on the principles or the +care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own; +and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances +may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel +Campbell.'” + +“Poor girl!” said Emma again. “She loves him then excessively, I +suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be +led to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her +judgment.” + +“Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him.” + +“I am afraid,” returned Emma, sighing, “that I must often have +contributed to make her unhappy.” + +“On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she +probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the +misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural +consequence of the evil she had involved herself in,” she said, “was +that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness of having done +amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her captious +and irritable to a degree that must have been--that had been--hard for +him to bear. 'I did not make the allowances,' said she, 'which I ought +to have done, for his temper and spirits--his delightful spirits, and +that gaiety, that playfulness of disposition, which, under any other +circumstances, would, I am sure, have been as constantly bewitching to +me, as they were at first.' She then began to speak of you, and of the +great kindness you had shewn her during her illness; and with a blush +which shewed me how it was all connected, desired me, whenever I had +an opportunity, to thank you--I could not thank you too much--for every +wish and every endeavour to do her good. She was sensible that you had +never received any proper acknowledgment from herself.” + +“If I did not know her to be happy now,” said Emma, seriously, “which, +in spite of every little drawback from her scrupulous conscience, she +must be, I could not bear these thanks;--for, oh! Mrs. Weston, if there +were an account drawn up of the evil and the good I have done Miss +Fairfax!--Well (checking herself, and trying to be more lively), this +is all to be forgotten. You are very kind to bring me these interesting +particulars. They shew her to the greatest advantage. I am sure she is +very good--I hope she will be very happy. It is fit that the fortune +should be on his side, for I think the merit will be all on hers.” + +Such a conclusion could not pass unanswered by Mrs. Weston. She thought +well of Frank in almost every respect; and, what was more, she loved him +very much, and her defence was, therefore, earnest. She talked with a +great deal of reason, and at least equal affection--but she had too much +to urge for Emma's attention; it was soon gone to Brunswick Square or +to Donwell; she forgot to attempt to listen; and when Mrs. Weston ended +with, “We have not yet had the letter we are so anxious for, you know, +but I hope it will soon come,” she was obliged to pause before she +answered, and at last obliged to answer at random, before she could at +all recollect what letter it was which they were so anxious for. + +“Are you well, my Emma?” was Mrs. Weston's parting question. + +“Oh! perfectly. I am always well, you know. Be sure to give me +intelligence of the letter as soon as possible.” + +Mrs. Weston's communications furnished Emma with more food for +unpleasant reflection, by increasing her esteem and compassion, and her +sense of past injustice towards Miss Fairfax. She bitterly regretted +not having sought a closer acquaintance with her, and blushed for the +envious feelings which had certainly been, in some measure, the cause. +Had she followed Mr. Knightley's known wishes, in paying that attention +to Miss Fairfax, which was every way her due; had she tried to know her +better; had she done her part towards intimacy; had she endeavoured +to find a friend there instead of in Harriet Smith; she must, in all +probability, have been spared from every pain which pressed on her +now.--Birth, abilities, and education, had been equally marking one as +an associate for her, to be received with gratitude; and the other--what +was she?--Supposing even that they had never become intimate friends; +that she had never been admitted into Miss Fairfax's confidence on this +important matter--which was most probable--still, in knowing her as +she ought, and as she might, she must have been preserved from the +abominable suspicions of an improper attachment to Mr. Dixon, which she +had not only so foolishly fashioned and harboured herself, but had so +unpardonably imparted; an idea which she greatly feared had been made a +subject of material distress to the delicacy of Jane's feelings, by the +levity or carelessness of Frank Churchill's. Of all the sources of evil +surrounding the former, since her coming to Highbury, she was persuaded +that she must herself have been the worst. She must have been a +perpetual enemy. They never could have been all three together, without +her having stabbed Jane Fairfax's peace in a thousand instances; and on +Box Hill, perhaps, it had been the agony of a mind that would bear no +more. + +The evening of this day was very long, and melancholy, at Hartfield. +The weather added what it could of gloom. A cold stormy rain set in, and +nothing of July appeared but in the trees and shrubs, which the wind was +despoiling, and the length of the day, which only made such cruel sights +the longer visible. + +The weather affected Mr. Woodhouse, and he could only be kept tolerably +comfortable by almost ceaseless attention on his daughter's side, and by +exertions which had never cost her half so much before. It reminded +her of their first forlorn tete-a-tete, on the evening of Mrs. Weston's +wedding-day; but Mr. Knightley had walked in then, soon after tea, +and dissipated every melancholy fancy. Alas! such delightful proofs of +Hartfield's attraction, as those sort of visits conveyed, might shortly +be over. The picture which she had then drawn of the privations of the +approaching winter, had proved erroneous; no friends had deserted them, +no pleasures had been lost.--But her present forebodings she feared +would experience no similar contradiction. The prospect before her now, +was threatening to a degree that could not be entirely dispelled--that +might not be even partially brightened. If all took place that +might take place among the circle of her friends, Hartfield must be +comparatively deserted; and she left to cheer her father with the +spirits only of ruined happiness. + +The child to be born at Randalls must be a tie there even dearer than +herself; and Mrs. Weston's heart and time would be occupied by it. +They should lose her; and, probably, in great measure, her husband +also.--Frank Churchill would return among them no more; and Miss +Fairfax, it was reasonable to suppose, would soon cease to belong to +Highbury. They would be married, and settled either at or near Enscombe. +All that were good would be withdrawn; and if to these losses, the +loss of Donwell were to be added, what would remain of cheerful or +of rational society within their reach? Mr. Knightley to be no longer +coming there for his evening comfort!--No longer walking in at all +hours, as if ever willing to change his own home for their's!--How was +it to be endured? And if he were to be lost to them for Harriet's sake; +if he were to be thought of hereafter, as finding in Harriet's society +all that he wanted; if Harriet were to be the chosen, the first, +the dearest, the friend, the wife to whom he looked for all the best +blessings of existence; what could be increasing Emma's wretchedness but +the reflection never far distant from her mind, that it had been all her +own work? + +When it came to such a pitch as this, she was not able to refrain from +a start, or a heavy sigh, or even from walking about the room for a +few seconds--and the only source whence any thing like consolation +or composure could be drawn, was in the resolution of her own better +conduct, and the hope that, however inferior in spirit and gaiety might +be the following and every future winter of her life to the past, it +would yet find her more rational, more acquainted with herself, and +leave her less to regret when it were gone. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The weather continued much the same all the following morning; and +the same loneliness, and the same melancholy, seemed to reign at +Hartfield--but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a +softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was +summer again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, Emma +resolved to be out of doors as soon as possible. Never had the exquisite +sight, smell, sensation of nature, tranquil, warm, and brilliant after +a storm, been more attractive to her. She longed for the serenity they +might gradually introduce; and on Mr. Perry's coming in soon after +dinner, with a disengaged hour to give her father, she lost no time +in hurrying into the shrubbery.--There, with spirits freshened, and +thoughts a little relieved, she had taken a few turns, when she saw Mr. +Knightley passing through the garden door, and coming towards her.--It +was the first intimation of his being returned from London. She had +been thinking of him the moment before, as unquestionably sixteen miles +distant.--There was time only for the quickest arrangement of mind. She +must be collected and calm. In half a minute they were together. The +“How d'ye do's” were quiet and constrained on each side. She asked after +their mutual friends; they were all well.--When had he left them?--Only +that morning. He must have had a wet ride.--Yes.--He meant to walk with +her, she found. “He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was +not wanted there, preferred being out of doors.”--She thought he neither +looked nor spoke cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it, +suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating his +plans to his brother, and was pained by the manner in which they had +been received. + +They walked together. He was silent. She thought he was often looking +at her, and trying for a fuller view of her face than it suited her to +give. And this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he wanted to +speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for +encouragement to begin.--She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the +way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could +not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She +considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began-- + +“You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather +surprize you.” + +“Have I?” said he quietly, and looking at her; “of what nature?” + +“Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding.” + +After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he +replied, + +“If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that +already.” + +“How is it possible?” cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards +him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called +at Mrs. Goddard's in his way. + +“I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and +at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened.” + +Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more +composure, + +“_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have +had your suspicions.--I have not forgotten that you once tried to give +me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--(with a sinking voice +and a heavy sigh) I seem to have been doomed to blindness.” + +For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of having +excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn within +his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone +of great sensibility, speaking low, + +“Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent +sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow +yourself--.” Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more +broken and subdued accent, “The feelings of the warmest +friendship--Indignation--Abominable scoundrel!”--And in a louder, +steadier tone, he concluded with, “He will soon be gone. They will soon +be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for _her_. She deserves a better fate.” + +Emma understood him; and as soon as she could recover from the flutter +of pleasure, excited by such tender consideration, replied, + +“You are very kind--but you are mistaken--and I must set you right.-- +I am not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was +going on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed +of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which may +well lay me open to unpleasant conjectures, but I have no other reason +to regret that I was not in the secret earlier.” + +“Emma!” cried he, looking eagerly at her, “are you, indeed?”--but +checking himself--“No, no, I understand you--forgive me--I am pleased +that you can say even so much.--He is no object of regret, indeed! and +it will not be very long, I hope, before that becomes the acknowledgment +of more than your reason.--Fortunate that your affections were not +farther entangled!--I could never, I confess, from your manners, assure +myself as to the degree of what you felt--I could only be certain that +there was a preference--and a preference which I never believed him to +deserve.--He is a disgrace to the name of man.--And is he to be rewarded +with that sweet young woman?--Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable +creature.” + +“Mr. Knightley,” said Emma, trying to be lively, but really confused--“I +am in a very extraordinary situation. I cannot let you continue in your +error; and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such an impression, I +have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have been +at all attached to the person we are speaking of, as it might be natural +for a woman to feel in confessing exactly the reverse.--But I never +have.” + +He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to speak, but he would +not. She supposed she must say more before she were entitled to his +clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in +his opinion. She went on, however. + +“I have very little to say for my own conduct.--I was tempted by his +attentions, and allowed myself to appear pleased.--An old story, +probably--a common case--and no more than has happened to hundreds of my +sex before; and yet it may not be the more excusable in one who sets up +as I do for Understanding. Many circumstances assisted the temptation. +He was the son of Mr. Weston--he was continually here--I always found +him very pleasant--and, in short, for (with a sigh) let me swell out the +causes ever so ingeniously, they all centre in this at last--my vanity +was flattered, and I allowed his attentions. Latterly, however--for some +time, indeed--I have had no idea of their meaning any thing.--I thought +them a habit, a trick, nothing that called for seriousness on my side. +He has imposed on me, but he has not injured me. I have never been +attached to him. And now I can tolerably comprehend his behaviour. He +never wished to attach me. It was merely a blind to conceal his real +situation with another.--It was his object to blind all about him; and +no one, I am sure, could be more effectually blinded than myself--except +that I was _not_ blinded--that it was my good fortune--that, in short, I +was somehow or other safe from him.” + +She had hoped for an answer here--for a few words to say that her +conduct was at least intelligible; but he was silent; and, as far as she +could judge, deep in thought. At last, and tolerably in his usual tone, +he said, + +“I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.--I can suppose, +however, that I may have underrated him. My acquaintance with him has +been but trifling.--And even if I have not underrated him hitherto, he +may yet turn out well.--With such a woman he has a chance.--I have no +motive for wishing him ill--and for her sake, whose happiness will be +involved in his good character and conduct, I shall certainly wish him +well.” + +“I have no doubt of their being happy together,” said Emma; “I believe +them to be very mutually and very sincerely attached.” + +“He is a most fortunate man!” returned Mr. Knightley, with energy. “So +early in life--at three-and-twenty--a period when, if a man chuses a +wife, he generally chuses ill. At three-and-twenty to have drawn such +a prize! What years of felicity that man, in all human calculation, +has before him!--Assured of the love of such a woman--the disinterested +love, for Jane Fairfax's character vouches for her disinterestedness; +every thing in his favour,--equality of situation--I mean, as far as +regards society, and all the habits and manners that are important; +equality in every point but one--and that one, since the purity of her +heart is not to be doubted, such as must increase his felicity, for it +will be his to bestow the only advantages she wants.--A man would always +wish to give a woman a better home than the one he takes her from; +and he who can do it, where there is no doubt of _her_ regard, must, +I think, be the happiest of mortals.--Frank Churchill is, indeed, the +favourite of fortune. Every thing turns out for his good.--He meets +with a young woman at a watering-place, gains her affection, cannot even +weary her by negligent treatment--and had he and all his family sought +round the world for a perfect wife for him, they could not have found +her superior.--His aunt is in the way.--His aunt dies.--He has only to +speak.--His friends are eager to promote his happiness.--He had used +every body ill--and they are all delighted to forgive him.--He is a +fortunate man indeed!” + +“You speak as if you envied him.” + +“And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my envy.” + +Emma could say no more. They seemed to be within half a sentence +of Harriet, and her immediate feeling was to avert the subject, if +possible. She made her plan; she would speak of something totally +different--the children in Brunswick Square; and she only waited for +breath to begin, when Mr. Knightley startled her, by saying, + +“You will not ask me what is the point of envy.--You are determined, I +see, to have no curiosity.--You are wise--but _I_ cannot be wise. Emma, +I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the +next moment.” + +“Oh! then, don't speak it, don't speak it,” she eagerly cried. “Take a +little time, consider, do not commit yourself.” + +“Thank you,” said he, in an accent of deep mortification, and not +another syllable followed. + +Emma could not bear to give him pain. He was wishing to confide in +her--perhaps to consult her;--cost her what it would, she would listen. +She might assist his resolution, or reconcile him to it; she might give +just praise to Harriet, or, by representing to him his own independence, +relieve him from that state of indecision, which must be more +intolerable than any alternative to such a mind as his.--They had +reached the house. + +“You are going in, I suppose?” said he. + +“No,”--replied Emma--quite confirmed by the depressed manner in which +he still spoke--“I should like to take another turn. Mr. Perry is not +gone.” And, after proceeding a few steps, she added--“I stopped you +ungraciously, just now, Mr. Knightley, and, I am afraid, gave you +pain.--But if you have any wish to speak openly to me as a friend, or +to ask my opinion of any thing that you may have in contemplation--as +a friend, indeed, you may command me.--I will hear whatever you like. I +will tell you exactly what I think.” + +“As a friend!”--repeated Mr. Knightley.--“Emma, that I fear is a +word--No, I have no wish--Stay, yes, why should I hesitate?--I +have gone too far already for concealment.--Emma, I accept your +offer--Extraordinary as it may seem, I accept it, and refer myself to +you as a friend.--Tell me, then, have I no chance of ever succeeding?” + +He stopped in his earnestness to look the question, and the expression +of his eyes overpowered her. + +“My dearest Emma,” said he, “for dearest you will always be, whatever +the event of this hour's conversation, my dearest, most beloved +Emma--tell me at once. Say 'No,' if it is to be said.”--She could +really say nothing.--“You are silent,” he cried, with great animation; +“absolutely silent! at present I ask no more.” + +Emma was almost ready to sink under the agitation of this moment. The +dread of being awakened from the happiest dream, was perhaps the most +prominent feeling. + +“I cannot make speeches, Emma:” he soon resumed; and in a tone of +such sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably +convincing.--“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it +more. But you know what I am.--You hear nothing but truth from me.--I +have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other +woman in England would have borne it.--Bear with the truths I would +tell you now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne with them. The +manner, perhaps, may have as little to recommend them. God knows, I have +been a very indifferent lover.--But you understand me.--Yes, you see, +you understand my feelings--and will return them if you can. At present, +I ask only to hear, once to hear your voice.” + +While he spoke, Emma's mind was most busy, and, with all the wonderful +velocity of thought, had been able--and yet without losing a word--to +catch and comprehend the exact truth of the whole; to see that Harriet's +hopes had been entirely groundless, a mistake, a delusion, as complete a +delusion as any of her own--that Harriet was nothing; that she was every +thing herself; that what she had been saying relative to Harriet +had been all taken as the language of her own feelings; and that her +agitation, her doubts, her reluctance, her discouragement, had been all +received as discouragement from herself.--And not only was there time +for these convictions, with all their glow of attendant happiness; there +was time also to rejoice that Harriet's secret had not escaped her, and +to resolve that it need not, and should not.--It was all the service +she could now render her poor friend; for as to any of that heroism of +sentiment which might have prompted her to entreat him to transfer his +affection from herself to Harriet, as infinitely the most worthy of the +two--or even the more simple sublimity of resolving to refuse him at +once and for ever, without vouchsafing any motive, because he could not +marry them both, Emma had it not. She felt for Harriet, with pain and +with contrition; but no flight of generosity run mad, opposing all that +could be probable or reasonable, entered her brain. She had led her +friend astray, and it would be a reproach to her for ever; but her +judgment was as strong as her feelings, and as strong as it had ever +been before, in reprobating any such alliance for him, as most unequal +and degrading. Her way was clear, though not quite smooth.--She spoke +then, on being so entreated.--What did she say?--Just what she ought, +of course. A lady always does.--She said enough to shew there need not +be despair--and to invite him to say more himself. He _had_ despaired at +one period; he had received such an injunction to caution and silence, +as for the time crushed every hope;--she had begun by refusing to hear +him.--The change had perhaps been somewhat sudden;--her proposal of +taking another turn, her renewing the conversation which she had +just put an end to, might be a little extraordinary!--She felt its +inconsistency; but Mr. Knightley was so obliging as to put up with it, +and seek no farther explanation. + +Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; +seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a +little mistaken; but where, as in this case, though the conduct is +mistaken, the feelings are not, it may not be very material.--Mr. +Knightley could not impute to Emma a more relenting heart than she +possessed, or a heart more disposed to accept of his. + +He had, in fact, been wholly unsuspicious of his own influence. He had +followed her into the shrubbery with no idea of trying it. He had come, +in his anxiety to see how she bore Frank Churchill's engagement, with no +selfish view, no view at all, but of endeavouring, if she allowed him an +opening, to soothe or to counsel her.--The rest had been the work of +the moment, the immediate effect of what he heard, on his feelings. The +delightful assurance of her total indifference towards Frank Churchill, +of her having a heart completely disengaged from him, had given birth +to the hope, that, in time, he might gain her affection himself;--but +it had been no present hope--he had only, in the momentary conquest of +eagerness over judgment, aspired to be told that she did not forbid his +attempt to attach her.--The superior hopes which gradually opened were +so much the more enchanting.--The affection, which he had been asking +to be allowed to create, if he could, was already his!--Within half +an hour, he had passed from a thoroughly distressed state of mind, to +something so like perfect happiness, that it could bear no other name. + +_Her_ change was equal.--This one half-hour had given to each the same +precious certainty of being beloved, had cleared from each the same +degree of ignorance, jealousy, or distrust.--On his side, there had been +a long-standing jealousy, old as the arrival, or even the expectation, +of Frank Churchill.--He had been in love with Emma, and jealous of Frank +Churchill, from about the same period, one sentiment having probably +enlightened him as to the other. It was his jealousy of Frank Churchill +that had taken him from the country.--The Box Hill party had decided +him on going away. He would save himself from witnessing again +such permitted, encouraged attentions.--He had gone to learn to be +indifferent.--But he had gone to a wrong place. There was too much +domestic happiness in his brother's house; woman wore too amiable a form +in it; Isabella was too much like Emma--differing only in those striking +inferiorities, which always brought the other in brilliancy before +him, for much to have been done, even had his time been longer.--He had +stayed on, however, vigorously, day after day--till this very morning's +post had conveyed the history of Jane Fairfax.--Then, with the gladness +which must be felt, nay, which he did not scruple to feel, having never +believed Frank Churchill to be at all deserving Emma, was there so much +fond solicitude, so much keen anxiety for her, that he could stay no +longer. He had ridden home through the rain; and had walked up directly +after dinner, to see how this sweetest and best of all creatures, +faultless in spite of all her faults, bore the discovery. + +He had found her agitated and low.--Frank Churchill was a villain.-- +He heard her declare that she had never loved him. Frank Churchill's +character was not desperate.--She was his own Emma, by hand and word, +when they returned into the house; and if he could have thought of Frank +Churchill then, he might have deemed him a very good sort of fellow. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +What totally different feelings did Emma take back into the house from +what she had brought out!--she had then been only daring to hope for +a little respite of suffering;--she was now in an exquisite flutter of +happiness, and such happiness moreover as she believed must still be +greater when the flutter should have passed away. + +They sat down to tea--the same party round the same table--how often +it had been collected!--and how often had her eyes fallen on the same +shrubs in the lawn, and observed the same beautiful effect of the +western sun!--But never in such a state of spirits, never in any thing +like it; and it was with difficulty that she could summon enough of her +usual self to be the attentive lady of the house, or even the attentive +daughter. + +Poor Mr. Woodhouse little suspected what was plotting against him in the +breast of that man whom he was so cordially welcoming, and so anxiously +hoping might not have taken cold from his ride.--Could he have seen the +heart, he would have cared very little for the lungs; but without the +most distant imagination of the impending evil, without the slightest +perception of any thing extraordinary in the looks or ways of either, +he repeated to them very comfortably all the articles of news he had +received from Mr. Perry, and talked on with much self-contentment, +totally unsuspicious of what they could have told him in return. + +As long as Mr. Knightley remained with them, Emma's fever continued; +but when he was gone, she began to be a little tranquillised and +subdued--and in the course of the sleepless night, which was the tax +for such an evening, she found one or two such very serious points +to consider, as made her feel, that even her happiness must have some +alloy. Her father--and Harriet. She could not be alone without feeling +the full weight of their separate claims; and how to guard the comfort +of both to the utmost, was the question. With respect to her father, +it was a question soon answered. She hardly knew yet what Mr. Knightley +would ask; but a very short parley with her own heart produced the most +solemn resolution of never quitting her father.--She even wept over +the idea of it, as a sin of thought. While he lived, it must be only an +engagement; but she flattered herself, that if divested of the danger of +drawing her away, it might become an increase of comfort to him.--How +to do her best by Harriet, was of more difficult decision;--how to spare +her from any unnecessary pain; how to make her any possible atonement; +how to appear least her enemy?--On these subjects, her perplexity +and distress were very great--and her mind had to pass again and +again through every bitter reproach and sorrowful regret that had ever +surrounded it.--She could only resolve at last, that she would still +avoid a meeting with her, and communicate all that need be told by +letter; that it would be inexpressibly desirable to have her removed +just now for a time from Highbury, and--indulging in one scheme +more--nearly resolve, that it might be practicable to get an invitation +for her to Brunswick Square.--Isabella had been pleased with Harriet; +and a few weeks spent in London must give her some amusement.--She did +not think it in Harriet's nature to escape being benefited by novelty +and variety, by the streets, the shops, and the children.--At any rate, +it would be a proof of attention and kindness in herself, from whom +every thing was due; a separation for the present; an averting of the +evil day, when they must all be together again. + +She rose early, and wrote her letter to Harriet; an employment which +left her so very serious, so nearly sad, that Mr. Knightley, in walking +up to Hartfield to breakfast, did not arrive at all too soon; and half +an hour stolen afterwards to go over the same ground again with him, +literally and figuratively, was quite necessary to reinstate her in a +proper share of the happiness of the evening before. + +He had not left her long, by no means long enough for her to have the +slightest inclination for thinking of any body else, when a letter was +brought her from Randalls--a very thick letter;--she guessed what it +must contain, and deprecated the necessity of reading it.--She was now +in perfect charity with Frank Churchill; she wanted no explanations, she +wanted only to have her thoughts to herself--and as for understanding +any thing he wrote, she was sure she was incapable of it.--It must be +waded through, however. She opened the packet; it was too surely so;--a +note from Mrs. Weston to herself, ushered in the letter from Frank to +Mrs. Weston. + +“I have the greatest pleasure, my dear Emma, in forwarding to you the +enclosed. I know what thorough justice you will do it, and have scarcely +a doubt of its happy effect.--I think we shall never materially disagree +about the writer again; but I will not delay you by a long preface.--We +are quite well.--This letter has been the cure of all the little +nervousness I have been feeling lately.--I did not quite like your looks +on Tuesday, but it was an ungenial morning; and though you will never +own being affected by weather, I think every body feels a north-east +wind.--I felt for your dear father very much in the storm of Tuesday +afternoon and yesterday morning, but had the comfort of hearing last +night, by Mr. Perry, that it had not made him ill. + + “Yours ever, + “A. W.” + + [To Mrs. Weston.] + + + WINDSOR-JULY. +MY DEAR MADAM, + +“If I made myself intelligible yesterday, this letter will be +expected; but expected or not, I know it will be read with candour and +indulgence.--You are all goodness, and I believe there will be need of +even all your goodness to allow for some parts of my past conduct.--But +I have been forgiven by one who had still more to resent. My courage +rises while I write. It is very difficult for the prosperous to be +humble. I have already met with such success in two applications for +pardon, that I may be in danger of thinking myself too sure of yours, +and of those among your friends who have had any ground of offence.--You +must all endeavour to comprehend the exact nature of my situation when I +first arrived at Randalls; you must consider me as having a secret which +was to be kept at all hazards. This was the fact. My right to place +myself in a situation requiring such concealment, is another question. +I shall not discuss it here. For my temptation to _think_ it a right, +I refer every caviller to a brick house, sashed windows below, and +casements above, in Highbury. I dared not address her openly; my +difficulties in the then state of Enscombe must be too well known to +require definition; and I was fortunate enough to prevail, before we +parted at Weymouth, and to induce the most upright female mind in the +creation to stoop in charity to a secret engagement.--Had she refused, I +should have gone mad.--But you will be ready to say, what was your +hope in doing this?--What did you look forward to?--To any thing, every +thing--to time, chance, circumstance, slow effects, sudden bursts, +perseverance and weariness, health and sickness. Every possibility of +good was before me, and the first of blessings secured, in obtaining her +promises of faith and correspondence. If you need farther explanation, +I have the honour, my dear madam, of being your husband's son, and +the advantage of inheriting a disposition to hope for good, which no +inheritance of houses or lands can ever equal the value of.--See +me, then, under these circumstances, arriving on my first visit to +Randalls;--and here I am conscious of wrong, for that visit might have +been sooner paid. You will look back and see that I did not come till +Miss Fairfax was in Highbury; and as _you_ were the person slighted, you +will forgive me instantly; but I must work on my father's compassion, by +reminding him, that so long as I absented myself from his house, so long +I lost the blessing of knowing you. My behaviour, during the very +happy fortnight which I spent with you, did not, I hope, lay me open to +reprehension, excepting on one point. And now I come to the principal, +the only important part of my conduct while belonging to you, which +excites my own anxiety, or requires very solicitous explanation. With +the greatest respect, and the warmest friendship, do I mention Miss +Woodhouse; my father perhaps will think I ought to add, with the deepest +humiliation.--A few words which dropped from him yesterday spoke his +opinion, and some censure I acknowledge myself liable to.--My behaviour +to Miss Woodhouse indicated, I believe, more than it ought.--In order to +assist a concealment so essential to me, I was led on to make more than +an allowable use of the sort of intimacy into which we were immediately +thrown.--I cannot deny that Miss Woodhouse was my ostensible object--but +I am sure you will believe the declaration, that had I not been +convinced of her indifference, I would not have been induced by any +selfish views to go on.--Amiable and delightful as Miss Woodhouse is, +she never gave me the idea of a young woman likely to be attached; and +that she was perfectly free from any tendency to being attached to me, +was as much my conviction as my wish.--She received my attentions with +an easy, friendly, goodhumoured playfulness, which exactly suited me. +We seemed to understand each other. From our relative situation, those +attentions were her due, and were felt to be so.--Whether Miss Woodhouse +began really to understand me before the expiration of that fortnight, +I cannot say;--when I called to take leave of her, I remember that I was +within a moment of confessing the truth, and I then fancied she was not +without suspicion; but I have no doubt of her having since detected me, +at least in some degree.--She may not have surmised the whole, but her +quickness must have penetrated a part. I cannot doubt it. You will find, +whenever the subject becomes freed from its present restraints, that it +did not take her wholly by surprize. She frequently gave me hints of it. +I remember her telling me at the ball, that I owed Mrs. Elton gratitude +for her attentions to Miss Fairfax.--I hope this history of my conduct +towards her will be admitted by you and my father as great extenuation +of what you saw amiss. While you considered me as having sinned against +Emma Woodhouse, I could deserve nothing from either. Acquit me here, and +procure for me, when it is allowable, the acquittal and good wishes +of that said Emma Woodhouse, whom I regard with so much brotherly +affection, as to long to have her as deeply and as happily in love as +myself.--Whatever strange things I said or did during that fortnight, +you have now a key to. My heart was in Highbury, and my business was to +get my body thither as often as might be, and with the least suspicion. +If you remember any queernesses, set them all to the right account.--Of +the pianoforte so much talked of, I feel it only necessary to say, that +its being ordered was absolutely unknown to Miss F--, who would never +have allowed me to send it, had any choice been given her.--The +delicacy of her mind throughout the whole engagement, my dear madam, +is much beyond my power of doing justice to. You will soon, I earnestly +hope, know her thoroughly yourself.--No description can describe her. +She must tell you herself what she is--yet not by word, for never +was there a human creature who would so designedly suppress her own +merit.--Since I began this letter, which will be longer than I foresaw, +I have heard from her.--She gives a good account of her own health; but +as she never complains, I dare not depend. I want to have your opinion +of her looks. I know you will soon call on her; she is living in dread +of the visit. Perhaps it is paid already. Let me hear from you without +delay; I am impatient for a thousand particulars. Remember how few +minutes I was at Randalls, and in how bewildered, how mad a state: and +I am not much better yet; still insane either from happiness or +misery. When I think of the kindness and favour I have met with, of her +excellence and patience, and my uncle's generosity, I am mad with joy: +but when I recollect all the uneasiness I occasioned her, and how little +I deserve to be forgiven, I am mad with anger. If I could but see her +again!--But I must not propose it yet. My uncle has been too good for me +to encroach.--I must still add to this long letter. You have not heard +all that you ought to hear. I could not give any connected detail +yesterday; but the suddenness, and, in one light, the unseasonableness +with which the affair burst out, needs explanation; for though the event +of the 26th ult., as you will conclude, immediately opened to me the +happiest prospects, I should not have presumed on such early measures, +but from the very particular circumstances, which left me not an hour to +lose. I should myself have shrunk from any thing so hasty, and she +would have felt every scruple of mine with multiplied strength and +refinement.--But I had no choice. The hasty engagement she had entered +into with that woman--Here, my dear madam, I was obliged to leave off +abruptly, to recollect and compose myself.--I have been walking over +the country, and am now, I hope, rational enough to make the rest of +my letter what it ought to be.--It is, in fact, a most mortifying +retrospect for me. I behaved shamefully. And here I can admit, that +my manners to Miss W., in being unpleasant to Miss F., were highly +blameable. _She_ disapproved them, which ought to have been enough.--My +plea of concealing the truth she did not think sufficient.--She was +displeased; I thought unreasonably so: I thought her, on a thousand +occasions, unnecessarily scrupulous and cautious: I thought her even +cold. But she was always right. If I had followed her judgment, and +subdued my spirits to the level of what she deemed proper, I should have +escaped the greatest unhappiness I have ever known.--We quarrelled.-- +Do you remember the morning spent at Donwell?--_There_ every little +dissatisfaction that had occurred before came to a crisis. I was late; +I met her walking home by herself, and wanted to walk with her, but she +would not suffer it. She absolutely refused to allow me, which I then +thought most unreasonable. Now, however, I see nothing in it but a very +natural and consistent degree of discretion. While I, to blind the +world to our engagement, was behaving one hour with objectionable +particularity to another woman, was she to be consenting the next to a +proposal which might have made every previous caution useless?--Had we +been met walking together between Donwell and Highbury, the truth must +have been suspected.--I was mad enough, however, to resent.--I doubted +her affection. I doubted it more the next day on Box Hill; when, +provoked by such conduct on my side, such shameful, insolent neglect +of her, and such apparent devotion to Miss W., as it would have been +impossible for any woman of sense to endure, she spoke her resentment in +a form of words perfectly intelligible to me.--In short, my dear +madam, it was a quarrel blameless on her side, abominable on mine; and +I returned the same evening to Richmond, though I might have staid with +you till the next morning, merely because I would be as angry with +her as possible. Even then, I was not such a fool as not to mean to +be reconciled in time; but I was the injured person, injured by her +coldness, and I went away determined that she should make the first +advances.--I shall always congratulate myself that you were not of +the Box Hill party. Had you witnessed my behaviour there, I can hardly +suppose you would ever have thought well of me again. Its effect upon +her appears in the immediate resolution it produced: as soon as she +found I was really gone from Randalls, she closed with the offer of that +officious Mrs. Elton; the whole system of whose treatment of her, by the +bye, has ever filled me with indignation and hatred. I must not quarrel +with a spirit of forbearance which has been so richly extended towards +myself; but, otherwise, I should loudly protest against the share of it +which that woman has known.--'Jane,' indeed!--You will observe that I +have not yet indulged myself in calling her by that name, even to you. +Think, then, what I must have endured in hearing it bandied between +the Eltons with all the vulgarity of needless repetition, and all the +insolence of imaginary superiority. Have patience with me, I shall soon +have done.--She closed with this offer, resolving to break with me +entirely, and wrote the next day to tell me that we never were to meet +again.--_She_ _felt_ _the_ _engagement_ _to_ _be_ _a_ _source_ _of_ +_repentance_ _and_ _misery_ _to_ _each_: _she_ _dissolved_ _it_.--This +letter reached me on the very morning of my poor aunt's death. I +answered it within an hour; but from the confusion of my mind, and the +multiplicity of business falling on me at once, my answer, instead of +being sent with all the many other letters of that day, was locked up in +my writing-desk; and I, trusting that I had written enough, though but +a few lines, to satisfy her, remained without any uneasiness.--I was +rather disappointed that I did not hear from her again speedily; but I +made excuses for her, and was too busy, and--may I add?--too cheerful +in my views to be captious.--We removed to Windsor; and two +days afterwards I received a parcel from her, my own letters all +returned!--and a few lines at the same time by the post, stating her +extreme surprize at not having had the smallest reply to her last; and +adding, that as silence on such a point could not be misconstrued, +and as it must be equally desirable to both to have every subordinate +arrangement concluded as soon as possible, she now sent me, by a safe +conveyance, all my letters, and requested, that if I could not directly +command hers, so as to send them to Highbury within a week, I would +forward them after that period to her at--: in short, the full direction +to Mr. Smallridge's, near Bristol, stared me in the face. I knew the +name, the place, I knew all about it, and instantly saw what she had +been doing. It was perfectly accordant with that resolution of character +which I knew her to possess; and the secrecy she had maintained, as to +any such design in her former letter, was equally descriptive of its +anxious delicacy. For the world would not she have seemed to threaten +me.--Imagine the shock; imagine how, till I had actually detected my +own blunder, I raved at the blunders of the post.--What was to be +done?--One thing only.--I must speak to my uncle. Without his sanction I +could not hope to be listened to again.--I spoke; circumstances were +in my favour; the late event had softened away his pride, and he was, +earlier than I could have anticipated, wholly reconciled and complying; +and could say at last, poor man! with a deep sigh, that he wished I +might find as much happiness in the marriage state as he had done.--I +felt that it would be of a different sort.--Are you disposed to pity +me for what I must have suffered in opening the cause to him, for my +suspense while all was at stake?--No; do not pity me till I reached +Highbury, and saw how ill I had made her. Do not pity me till I saw her +wan, sick looks.--I reached Highbury at the time of day when, from my +knowledge of their late breakfast hour, I was certain of a good chance +of finding her alone.--I was not disappointed; and at last I was not +disappointed either in the object of my journey. A great deal of very +reasonable, very just displeasure I had to persuade away. But it is +done; we are reconciled, dearer, much dearer, than ever, and no moment's +uneasiness can ever occur between us again. Now, my dear madam, I will +release you; but I could not conclude before. A thousand and a thousand +thanks for all the kindness you have ever shewn me, and ten thousand for +the attentions your heart will dictate towards her.--If you think me in +a way to be happier than I deserve, I am quite of your opinion.--Miss +W. calls me the child of good fortune. I hope she is right.--In one +respect, my good fortune is undoubted, that of being able to subscribe +myself, + + Your obliged and affectionate Son, + + F. C. WESTON CHURCHILL. + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +This letter must make its way to Emma's feelings. She was obliged, in +spite of her previous determination to the contrary, to do it all the +justice that Mrs. Weston foretold. As soon as she came to her own name, +it was irresistible; every line relating to herself was interesting, +and almost every line agreeable; and when this charm ceased, the subject +could still maintain itself, by the natural return of her former regard +for the writer, and the very strong attraction which any picture of +love must have for her at that moment. She never stopt till she had gone +through the whole; and though it was impossible not to feel that he had +been wrong, yet he had been less wrong than she had supposed--and he had +suffered, and was very sorry--and he was so grateful to Mrs. Weston, and +so much in love with Miss Fairfax, and she was so happy herself, that +there was no being severe; and could he have entered the room, she must +have shaken hands with him as heartily as ever. + +She thought so well of the letter, that when Mr. Knightley came again, +she desired him to read it. She was sure of Mrs. Weston's wishing it to +be communicated; especially to one, who, like Mr. Knightley, had seen so +much to blame in his conduct. + +“I shall be very glad to look it over,” said he; “but it seems long. I +will take it home with me at night.” + +But that would not do. Mr. Weston was to call in the evening, and she +must return it by him. + +“I would rather be talking to you,” he replied; “but as it seems a +matter of justice, it shall be done.” + +He began--stopping, however, almost directly to say, “Had I been offered +the sight of one of this gentleman's letters to his mother-in-law a few +months ago, Emma, it would not have been taken with such indifference.” + +He proceeded a little farther, reading to himself; and then, with a +smile, observed, “Humph! a fine complimentary opening: But it is his +way. One man's style must not be the rule of another's. We will not be +severe.” + +“It will be natural for me,” he added shortly afterwards, “to speak my +opinion aloud as I read. By doing it, I shall feel that I am near you. +It will not be so great a loss of time: but if you dislike it--” + +“Not at all. I should wish it.” + +Mr. Knightley returned to his reading with greater alacrity. + +“He trifles here,” said he, “as to the temptation. He knows he is wrong, +and has nothing rational to urge.--Bad.--He ought not to have formed the +engagement.--'His father's disposition:'--he is unjust, however, to his +father. Mr. Weston's sanguine temper was a blessing on all his upright +and honourable exertions; but Mr. Weston earned every present comfort +before he endeavoured to gain it.--Very true; he did not come till Miss +Fairfax was here.” + +“And I have not forgotten,” said Emma, “how sure you were that he might +have come sooner if he would. You pass it over very handsomely--but you +were perfectly right.” + +“I was not quite impartial in my judgment, Emma:--but yet, I think--had +_you_ not been in the case--I should still have distrusted him.” + +When he came to Miss Woodhouse, he was obliged to read the whole of it +aloud--all that related to her, with a smile; a look; a shake of the +head; a word or two of assent, or disapprobation; or merely of love, as +the subject required; concluding, however, seriously, and, after steady +reflection, thus-- + +“Very bad--though it might have been worse.--Playing a most dangerous +game. Too much indebted to the event for his acquittal.--No judge of +his own manners by you.--Always deceived in fact by his own wishes, and +regardless of little besides his own convenience.--Fancying you to have +fathomed his secret. Natural enough!--his own mind full of intrigue, +that he should suspect it in others.--Mystery; Finesse--how they pervert +the understanding! My Emma, does not every thing serve to prove more +and more the beauty of truth and sincerity in all our dealings with each +other?” + +Emma agreed to it, and with a blush of sensibility on Harriet's account, +which she could not give any sincere explanation of. + +“You had better go on,” said she. + +He did so, but very soon stopt again to say, “the pianoforte! Ah! That +was the act of a very, very young man, one too young to consider whether +the inconvenience of it might not very much exceed the pleasure. A +boyish scheme, indeed!--I cannot comprehend a man's wishing to give a +woman any proof of affection which he knows she would rather dispense +with; and he did know that she would have prevented the instrument's +coming if she could.” + +After this, he made some progress without any pause. Frank Churchill's +confession of having behaved shamefully was the first thing to call for +more than a word in passing. + +“I perfectly agree with you, sir,”--was then his remark. “You did behave +very shamefully. You never wrote a truer line.” And having gone through +what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his +persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, +he made a fuller pause to say, “This is very bad.--He had induced her +to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and +uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from +suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend +with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have +respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were +all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she +had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she +should have been in such a state of punishment.” + +Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew +uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was +deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, +however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, +excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear +of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. + +“There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the +Eltons,” was his next observation.--“His feelings are natural.--What! +actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to +be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a +view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most +extraordinary--” + +“Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers.” + +“I hope he does,” replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. +“'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?” + +“She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a +dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the +bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?” + +“Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of +Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter +the man writes!” + +“I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him.” + +“Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in +finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of +her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to +feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal +thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I +deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the +child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- +And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! +That was your name for him, was it?” + +“You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still +you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I +hope it does him some service with you.” + +“Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of +inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion +in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he +is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it +may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very +ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the +steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk +to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present +so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. +Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work +on one subject.” + +The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike +English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love +with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the +happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. +“While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible +for her. She could never quit him.” Part only of this answer, however, +was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. +Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any +other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most +deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to +remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but +his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself +long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation +would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which +must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt +that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the +sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any +respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; +that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required +Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. + +Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing +thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such +an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all +the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must +be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that +in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there +would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, +and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no +reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had +given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had +been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his +thoughts to himself. + +“Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for,” cried Emma. “I am sure +William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you +ask mine.” + +She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, +moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good +scheme. + +It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in +which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never +struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as +heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must +of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only +gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in +detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's +marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had +wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. + +This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at +Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. +His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual +good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the +periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in +all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of +melancholy! + +She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing +of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, +who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family +party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere +charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in +every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction +from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a +dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a +peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of +unmerited punishment. + +In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, +supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. +Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not +like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly +considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped +than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she +could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as +herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by +letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! + +Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without +reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there +was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, +which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be +only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have +been quite without resentment under such a stroke. + +She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was +fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting +to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and +had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was +delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to +her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was +quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled +on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her +very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a +fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was +all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick +Square. + +Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could +talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense +of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her +when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might +at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings +which she had led astray herself. + +The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps +an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think +of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must +be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. + +She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place +in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before +her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of +her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it +at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston +were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this +period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself +by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of +leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, +delight, should be hers. + +She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an +hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought +to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present +situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a +_secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect +would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any +thing Jane might communicate. + +She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not +been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had +been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the +worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still +unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to +wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing +it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so +happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, +“Beg her to walk up;”--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs +by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her +were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, +so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was +every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- +She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very +feeling tone, + +“This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me +to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely +without words.” + +Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the +sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked +her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her +congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. + +Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which +accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. +Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every +body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the +rencontre would do them no harm. + +She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and +understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in +Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was +still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in +the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. +Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw +her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she +had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into +the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, + +“We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want +opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I +only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is +not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet +creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word +more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You +remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: + + “For when a lady's in the case, + “You know all other things give place.” + +Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to +the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set +your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has +quite appeased her.” + +And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's +knitting, she added, in a half whisper, + +“I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a +minister of state. I managed it extremely well.” + +Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every +possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of +the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, + +“Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is +charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest +credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my +word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had +seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!”--And when Mrs. Bates +was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, “We do not say a word +of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young +physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit.” + +“I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse,” she +shortly afterwards began, “since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant +party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not +seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So +it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think +it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our +collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the +fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the +same party, not _one_ exception.” + +Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being +diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, +she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say +every thing. + +“Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible +to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that +is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. +Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little +circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that +is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to +Jane!”--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight +towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a +little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, +which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which +placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, + +“Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that +anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth +is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me +here, and pay his respects to you.” + +“What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will +be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and +Mr. Elton's time is so engaged.” + +“Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to +night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or +other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always +wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without +him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do +not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had +half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect +them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar +this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on +purpose to wait on you all.” And putting up her hand to screen her +words from Emma--“A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite +indispensable.” + +Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! + +“He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself +from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep +consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand.” + +Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, “Is Mr. Elton +gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk.” + +“Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and +Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who +lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way.” + +“Have not you mistaken the day?” said Emma. “I am almost certain that +the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at +Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday.” + +“Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day,” was the abrupt answer, which +denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--“I do +believe,” she continued, “this is the most troublesome parish that ever +was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove.” + +“Your parish there was small,” said Jane. + +“Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject +talked of.” + +“But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard +you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the +only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children.” + +“Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you +have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we +could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce +perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ +people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, +if you please.” + +It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, +not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. +The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very +evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. + +Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her +sparkling vivacity. + +“Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an +encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But +you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should +not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting +this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal +obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?” + +Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. +His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent +object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the +walk he had had for nothing. + +“When I got to Donwell,” said he, “Knightley could not be found. Very +odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the +message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one.” + +“Donwell!” cried his wife.--“My dear Mr. E., you have not been to +Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown.” + +“No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley +to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went +over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made +it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you +I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The +housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very +extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps +to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss +Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?” + +Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, +indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. + +“I cannot imagine,” said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife +ought to do,) “I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of +all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to +be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am +sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his +servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely +to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, +extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a +creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And +as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised +Wright a receipt, and never sent it.” + +“I met William Larkins,” continued Mr. Elton, “as I got near the house, +and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not +believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what +was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the +speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really +is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it +becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should +have had this hot walk to no purpose.” + +Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In +all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. +Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards +Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. + +She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to +attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her +an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, + +“It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you +not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to +introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might +have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been +impertinent.” + +“Oh!” cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought +infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual +composure--“there would have been no danger. The danger would have +been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than +by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more +collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very +great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those +of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not +disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could +wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for +myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your +compassion does not stand my friend--” + +“Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are,” cried Emma warmly, and +taking her hand. “You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you +might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted +even--” + +“You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So +cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of +deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you.” + +“Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. +Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done +quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you +have pleasant accounts from Windsor?” + +“Very.” + +“And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as +I begin to know you.” + +“Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here +till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell.” + +“Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps,” replied Emma, +smiling--“but, excuse me, it must be thought of.” + +The smile was returned as Jane answered, + +“You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I +am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill +at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of +deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing +more to wait for.” + +“Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured +of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and +open!--Good-bye, good-bye.” + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the +satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by +knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in +wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with +any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's +sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father +and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew +older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to +have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks +and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no +one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be +quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have +their powers in exercise again. + +“She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me,” she +continued--“like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame +de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little +Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan.” + +“That is,” replied Mr. Knightley, “she will indulge her even more than +she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will +be the only difference.” + +“Poor child!” cried Emma; “at that rate, what will become of her?” + +“Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable +in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my +bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all +my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be +severe on them?” + +Emma laughed, and replied: “But I had the assistance of all your +endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether +my own sense would have corrected me without it.” + +“Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave you understanding:--Miss Taylor +gave you principles. You must have done well. My interference was quite +as likely to do harm as good. It was very natural for you to say, what +right has he to lecture me?--and I am afraid very natural for you to +feel that it was done in a disagreeable manner. I do not believe I did +you any good. The good was all to myself, by making you an object of the +tenderest affection to me. I could not think about you so much without +doating on you, faults and all; and by dint of fancying so many errors, +have been in love with you ever since you were thirteen at least.” + +“I am sure you were of use to me,” cried Emma. “I was very often +influenced rightly by you--oftener than I would own at the time. I +am very sure you did me good. And if poor little Anna Weston is to be +spoiled, it will be the greatest humanity in you to do as much for her +as you have done for me, except falling in love with her when she is +thirteen.” + +“How often, when you were a girl, have you said to me, with one of your +saucy looks--'Mr. Knightley, I am going to do so-and-so; papa says I +may, or I have Miss Taylor's leave'--something which, you knew, I +did not approve. In such cases my interference was giving you two bad +feelings instead of one.” + +“What an amiable creature I was!--No wonder you should hold my speeches +in such affectionate remembrance.” + +“'Mr. Knightley.'--You always called me, 'Mr. Knightley;' and, from +habit, it has not so very formal a sound.--And yet it is formal. I want +you to call me something else, but I do not know what.” + +“I remember once calling you 'George,' in one of my amiable fits, about +ten years ago. I did it because I thought it would offend you; but, as +you made no objection, I never did it again.” + +“And cannot you call me 'George' now?” + +“Impossible!--I never can call you any thing but 'Mr. Knightley.' I +will not promise even to equal the elegant terseness of Mrs. Elton, by +calling you Mr. K.--But I will promise,” she added presently, laughing +and blushing--“I will promise to call you once by your Christian name. +I do not say when, but perhaps you may guess where;--in the building in +which N. takes M. for better, for worse.” + +Emma grieved that she could not be more openly just to one important +service which his better sense would have rendered her, to the +advice which would have saved her from the worst of all her womanly +follies--her wilful intimacy with Harriet Smith; but it was too tender a +subject.--She could not enter on it.--Harriet was very seldom mentioned +between them. This, on his side, might merely proceed from her not being +thought of; but Emma was rather inclined to attribute it to delicacy, +and a suspicion, from some appearances, that their friendship were +declining. She was aware herself, that, parting under any other +circumstances, they certainly should have corresponded more, and that +her intelligence would not have rested, as it now almost wholly did, on +Isabella's letters. He might observe that it was so. The pain of being +obliged to practise concealment towards him, was very little inferior to +the pain of having made Harriet unhappy. + +Isabella sent quite as good an account of her visitor as could be +expected; on her first arrival she had thought her out of spirits, which +appeared perfectly natural, as there was a dentist to be consulted; but, +since that business had been over, she did not appear to find Harriet +different from what she had known her before.--Isabella, to be sure, +was no very quick observer; yet if Harriet had not been equal to playing +with the children, it would not have escaped her. Emma's comforts and +hopes were most agreeably carried on, by Harriet's being to stay longer; +her fortnight was likely to be a month at least. Mr. and Mrs. John +Knightley were to come down in August, and she was invited to remain +till they could bring her back. + +“John does not even mention your friend,” said Mr. Knightley. “Here is +his answer, if you like to see it.” + +It was the answer to the communication of his intended marriage. Emma +accepted it with a very eager hand, with an impatience all alive to know +what he would say about it, and not at all checked by hearing that her +friend was unmentioned. + +“John enters like a brother into my happiness,” continued Mr. Knightley, +“but he is no complimenter; and though I well know him to have, +likewise, a most brotherly affection for you, he is so far from making +flourishes, that any other young woman might think him rather cool in +her praise. But I am not afraid of your seeing what he writes.” + +“He writes like a sensible man,” replied Emma, when she had read the +letter. “I honour his sincerity. It is very plain that he considers the +good fortune of the engagement as all on my side, but that he is not +without hope of my growing, in time, as worthy of your affection, as +you think me already. Had he said any thing to bear a different +construction, I should not have believed him.” + +“My Emma, he means no such thing. He only means--” + +“He and I should differ very little in our estimation of the two,” + interrupted she, with a sort of serious smile--“much less, perhaps, than +he is aware of, if we could enter without ceremony or reserve on the +subject.” + +“Emma, my dear Emma--” + +“Oh!” she cried with more thorough gaiety, “if you fancy your brother +does not do me justice, only wait till my dear father is in the secret, +and hear his opinion. Depend upon it, he will be much farther from doing +_you_ justice. He will think all the happiness, all the advantage, on +your side of the question; all the merit on mine. I wish I may not +sink into 'poor Emma' with him at once.--His tender compassion towards +oppressed worth can go no farther.” + +“Ah!” he cried, “I wish your father might be half as easily convinced as +John will be, of our having every right that equal worth can give, to be +happy together. I am amused by one part of John's letter--did you notice +it?--where he says, that my information did not take him wholly by +surprize, that he was rather in expectation of hearing something of the +kind.” + +“If I understand your brother, he only means so far as your having +some thoughts of marrying. He had no idea of me. He seems perfectly +unprepared for that.” + +“Yes, yes--but I am amused that he should have seen so far into my +feelings. What has he been judging by?--I am not conscious of any +difference in my spirits or conversation that could prepare him at +this time for my marrying any more than at another.--But it was so, I +suppose. I dare say there was a difference when I was staying with them +the other day. I believe I did not play with the children quite so much +as usual. I remember one evening the poor boys saying, 'Uncle seems +always tired now.'” + +The time was coming when the news must spread farther, and other +persons' reception of it tried. As soon as Mrs. Weston was sufficiently +recovered to admit Mr. Woodhouse's visits, Emma having it in view that +her gentle reasonings should be employed in the cause, resolved first to +announce it at home, and then at Randalls.--But how to break it to her +father at last!--She had bound herself to do it, in such an hour of Mr. +Knightley's absence, or when it came to the point her heart would have +failed her, and she must have put it off; but Mr. Knightley was to come +at such a time, and follow up the beginning she was to make.--She was +forced to speak, and to speak cheerfully too. She must not make it a +more decided subject of misery to him, by a melancholy tone herself. +She must not appear to think it a misfortune.--With all the spirits she +could command, she prepared him first for something strange, and then, +in a few words, said, that if his consent and approbation could be +obtained--which, she trusted, would be attended with no difficulty, +since it was a plan to promote the happiness of all--she and Mr. +Knightley meant to marry; by which means Hartfield would receive the +constant addition of that person's company whom she knew he loved, next +to his daughters and Mrs. Weston, best in the world. + +Poor man!--it was at first a considerable shock to him, and he tried +earnestly to dissuade her from it. She was reminded, more than once, of +having always said she would never marry, and assured that it would be +a great deal better for her to remain single; and told of poor Isabella, +and poor Miss Taylor.--But it would not do. Emma hung about him +affectionately, and smiled, and said it must be so; and that he must +not class her with Isabella and Mrs. Weston, whose marriages taking them +from Hartfield, had, indeed, made a melancholy change: but she was not +going from Hartfield; she should be always there; she was introducing +no change in their numbers or their comforts but for the better; and she +was very sure that he would be a great deal the happier for having Mr. +Knightley always at hand, when he were once got used to the idea.--Did +he not love Mr. Knightley very much?--He would not deny that he did, +she was sure.--Whom did he ever want to consult on business but Mr. +Knightley?--Who was so useful to him, who so ready to write his letters, +who so glad to assist him?--Who so cheerful, so attentive, so attached +to him?--Would not he like to have him always on the spot?--Yes. That +was all very true. Mr. Knightley could not be there too often; he should +be glad to see him every day;--but they did see him every day as it +was.--Why could not they go on as they had done? + +Mr. Woodhouse could not be soon reconciled; but the worst was overcome, +the idea was given; time and continual repetition must do the rest.--To +Emma's entreaties and assurances succeeded Mr. Knightley's, whose fond +praise of her gave the subject even a kind of welcome; and he was soon +used to be talked to by each, on every fair occasion.--They had all +the assistance which Isabella could give, by letters of the strongest +approbation; and Mrs. Weston was ready, on the first meeting, to +consider the subject in the most serviceable light--first, as a settled, +and, secondly, as a good one--well aware of the nearly equal importance +of the two recommendations to Mr. Woodhouse's mind.--It was agreed +upon, as what was to be; and every body by whom he was used to be +guided assuring him that it would be for his happiness; and having some +feelings himself which almost admitted it, he began to think that some +time or other--in another year or two, perhaps--it might not be so very +bad if the marriage did take place. + +Mrs. Weston was acting no part, feigning no feelings in all that she +said to him in favour of the event.--She had been extremely surprized, +never more so, than when Emma first opened the affair to her; but she +saw in it only increase of happiness to all, and had no scruple in +urging him to the utmost.--She had such a regard for Mr. Knightley, as +to think he deserved even her dearest Emma; and it was in every respect +so proper, suitable, and unexceptionable a connexion, and in one +respect, one point of the highest importance, so peculiarly eligible, +so singularly fortunate, that now it seemed as if Emma could not safely +have attached herself to any other creature, and that she had herself +been the stupidest of beings in not having thought of it, and wished it +long ago.--How very few of those men in a rank of life to address Emma +would have renounced their own home for Hartfield! And who but Mr. +Knightley could know and bear with Mr. Woodhouse, so as to make such +an arrangement desirable!--The difficulty of disposing of poor Mr. +Woodhouse had been always felt in her husband's plans and her own, for +a marriage between Frank and Emma. How to settle the claims of Enscombe +and Hartfield had been a continual impediment--less acknowledged by Mr. +Weston than by herself--but even he had never been able to finish +the subject better than by saying--“Those matters will take care of +themselves; the young people will find a way.” But here there was +nothing to be shifted off in a wild speculation on the future. It was +all right, all open, all equal. No sacrifice on any side worth the name. +It was a union of the highest promise of felicity in itself, and without +one real, rational difficulty to oppose or delay it. + +Mrs. Weston, with her baby on her knee, indulging in such reflections +as these, was one of the happiest women in the world. If any thing could +increase her delight, it was perceiving that the baby would soon have +outgrown its first set of caps. + +The news was universally a surprize wherever it spread; and Mr. Weston +had his five minutes share of it; but five minutes were enough to +familiarise the idea to his quickness of mind.--He saw the advantages +of the match, and rejoiced in them with all the constancy of his wife; +but the wonder of it was very soon nothing; and by the end of an hour he +was not far from believing that he had always foreseen it. + +“It is to be a secret, I conclude,” said he. “These matters are always a +secret, till it is found out that every body knows them. Only let me be +told when I may speak out.--I wonder whether Jane has any suspicion.” + +He went to Highbury the next morning, and satisfied himself on that +point. He told her the news. Was not she like a daughter, his eldest +daughter?--he must tell her; and Miss Bates being present, it passed, +of course, to Mrs. Cole, Mrs. Perry, and Mrs. Elton, immediately +afterwards. It was no more than the principals were prepared for; they +had calculated from the time of its being known at Randalls, how soon it +would be over Highbury; and were thinking of themselves, as the evening +wonder in many a family circle, with great sagacity. + +In general, it was a very well approved match. Some might think him, and +others might think her, the most in luck. One set might recommend their +all removing to Donwell, and leaving Hartfield for the John Knightleys; +and another might predict disagreements among their servants; but yet, +upon the whole, there was no serious objection raised, except in one +habitation, the Vicarage.--There, the surprize was not softened by any +satisfaction. Mr. Elton cared little about it, compared with his wife; +he only hoped “the young lady's pride would now be contented;” and +supposed “she had always meant to catch Knightley if she could;” and, +on the point of living at Hartfield, could daringly exclaim, “Rather +he than I!”--But Mrs. Elton was very much discomposed indeed.--“Poor +Knightley! poor fellow!--sad business for him.”--She was extremely +concerned; for, though very eccentric, he had a thousand good +qualities.--How could he be so taken in?--Did not think him at all in +love--not in the least.--Poor Knightley!--There would be an end of all +pleasant intercourse with him.--How happy he had been to come and dine +with them whenever they asked him! But that would be all over now.--Poor +fellow!--No more exploring parties to Donwell made for _her_. Oh! +no; there would be a Mrs. Knightley to throw cold water on every +thing.--Extremely disagreeable! But she was not at all sorry that +she had abused the housekeeper the other day.--Shocking plan, living +together. It would never do. She knew a family near Maple Grove who +had tried it, and been obliged to separate before the end of the first +quarter. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Time passed on. A few more to-morrows, and the party from London would +be arriving. It was an alarming change; and Emma was thinking of it one +morning, as what must bring a great deal to agitate and grieve her, when +Mr. Knightley came in, and distressing thoughts were put by. After the +first chat of pleasure he was silent; and then, in a graver tone, began +with, + +“I have something to tell you, Emma; some news.” + +“Good or bad?” said she, quickly, looking up in his face. + +“I do not know which it ought to be called.” + +“Oh! good I am sure.--I see it in your countenance. You are trying not +to smile.” + +“I am afraid,” said he, composing his features, “I am very much afraid, +my dear Emma, that you will not smile when you hear it.” + +“Indeed! but why so?--I can hardly imagine that any thing which pleases +or amuses you, should not please and amuse me too.” + +“There is one subject,” he replied, “I hope but one, on which we do not +think alike.” He paused a moment, again smiling, with his eyes fixed on +her face. “Does nothing occur to you?--Do not you recollect?--Harriet +Smith.” + +Her cheeks flushed at the name, and she felt afraid of something, though +she knew not what. + +“Have you heard from her yourself this morning?” cried he. “You have, I +believe, and know the whole.” + +“No, I have not; I know nothing; pray tell me.” + +“You are prepared for the worst, I see--and very bad it is. Harriet +Smith marries Robert Martin.” + +Emma gave a start, which did not seem like being prepared--and her eyes, +in eager gaze, said, “No, this is impossible!” but her lips were closed. + +“It is so, indeed,” continued Mr. Knightley; “I have it from Robert +Martin himself. He left me not half an hour ago.” + +She was still looking at him with the most speaking amazement. + +“You like it, my Emma, as little as I feared.--I wish our opinions were +the same. But in time they will. Time, you may be sure, will make one +or the other of us think differently; and, in the meanwhile, we need not +talk much on the subject.” + +“You mistake me, you quite mistake me,” she replied, exerting herself. +“It is not that such a circumstance would now make me unhappy, but I +cannot believe it. It seems an impossibility!--You cannot mean to say, +that Harriet Smith has accepted Robert Martin. You cannot mean that he +has even proposed to her again--yet. You only mean, that he intends it.” + +“I mean that he has done it,” answered Mr. Knightley, with smiling but +determined decision, “and been accepted.” + +“Good God!” she cried.--“Well!”--Then having recourse to her workbasket, +in excuse for leaning down her face, and concealing all the exquisite +feelings of delight and entertainment which she knew she must be +expressing, she added, “Well, now tell me every thing; make this +intelligible to me. How, where, when?--Let me know it all. I never was +more surprized--but it does not make me unhappy, I assure you.--How--how +has it been possible?” + +“It is a very simple story. He went to town on business three days ago, +and I got him to take charge of some papers which I was wanting to send +to John.--He delivered these papers to John, at his chambers, and was +asked by him to join their party the same evening to Astley's. They were +going to take the two eldest boys to Astley's. The party was to be our +brother and sister, Henry, John--and Miss Smith. My friend Robert could +not resist. They called for him in their way; were all extremely amused; +and my brother asked him to dine with them the next day--which he +did--and in the course of that visit (as I understand) he found an +opportunity of speaking to Harriet; and certainly did not speak +in vain.--She made him, by her acceptance, as happy even as he is +deserving. He came down by yesterday's coach, and was with me this +morning immediately after breakfast, to report his proceedings, first +on my affairs, and then on his own. This is all that I can relate of +the how, where, and when. Your friend Harriet will make a much +longer history when you see her.--She will give you all the minute +particulars, which only woman's language can make interesting.--In our +communications we deal only in the great.--However, I must say, that +Robert Martin's heart seemed for _him_, and to _me_, very overflowing; +and that he did mention, without its being much to the purpose, that +on quitting their box at Astley's, my brother took charge of Mrs. John +Knightley and little John, and he followed with Miss Smith and Henry; +and that at one time they were in such a crowd, as to make Miss Smith +rather uneasy.” + +He stopped.--Emma dared not attempt any immediate reply. To speak, she +was sure would be to betray a most unreasonable degree of happiness. +She must wait a moment, or he would think her mad. Her silence disturbed +him; and after observing her a little while, he added, + +“Emma, my love, you said that this circumstance would not now make you +unhappy; but I am afraid it gives you more pain than you expected. His +situation is an evil--but you must consider it as what satisfies your +friend; and I will answer for your thinking better and better of him +as you know him more. His good sense and good principles would delight +you.--As far as the man is concerned, you could not wish your friend +in better hands. His rank in society I would alter if I could, which is +saying a great deal I assure you, Emma.--You laugh at me about William +Larkins; but I could quite as ill spare Robert Martin.” + +He wanted her to look up and smile; and having now brought herself not +to smile too broadly--she did--cheerfully answering, + +“You need not be at any pains to reconcile me to the match. I think +Harriet is doing extremely well. _Her_ connexions may be worse than +_his_. In respectability of character, there can be no doubt that they +are. I have been silent from surprize merely, excessive surprize. You +cannot imagine how suddenly it has come on me! how peculiarly unprepared +I was!--for I had reason to believe her very lately more determined +against him, much more, than she was before.” + +“You ought to know your friend best,” replied Mr. Knightley; “but I +should say she was a good-tempered, soft-hearted girl, not likely to be +very, very determined against any young man who told her he loved her.” + +Emma could not help laughing as she answered, “Upon my word, I believe +you know her quite as well as I do.--But, Mr. Knightley, are you +perfectly sure that she has absolutely and downright _accepted_ him. +I could suppose she might in time--but can she already?--Did not you +misunderstand him?--You were both talking of other things; of business, +shows of cattle, or new drills--and might not you, in the confusion of +so many subjects, mistake him?--It was not Harriet's hand that he was +certain of--it was the dimensions of some famous ox.” + +The contrast between the countenance and air of Mr. Knightley and Robert +Martin was, at this moment, so strong to Emma's feelings, and so strong +was the recollection of all that had so recently passed on Harriet's +side, so fresh the sound of those words, spoken with such emphasis, +“No, I hope I know better than to think of Robert Martin,” that she was +really expecting the intelligence to prove, in some measure, premature. +It could not be otherwise. + +“Do you dare say this?” cried Mr. Knightley. “Do you dare to suppose me +so great a blockhead, as not to know what a man is talking of?--What do +you deserve?” + +“Oh! I always deserve the best treatment, because I never put up with +any other; and, therefore, you must give me a plain, direct answer. Are +you quite sure that you understand the terms on which Mr. Martin and +Harriet now are?” + +“I am quite sure,” he replied, speaking very distinctly, “that he +told me she had accepted him; and that there was no obscurity, nothing +doubtful, in the words he used; and I think I can give you a proof that +it must be so. He asked my opinion as to what he was now to do. He knew +of no one but Mrs. Goddard to whom he could apply for information of +her relations or friends. Could I mention any thing more fit to be done, +than to go to Mrs. Goddard? I assured him that I could not. Then, he +said, he would endeavour to see her in the course of this day.” + +“I am perfectly satisfied,” replied Emma, with the brightest smiles, +“and most sincerely wish them happy.” + +“You are materially changed since we talked on this subject before.” + +“I hope so--for at that time I was a fool.” + +“And I am changed also; for I am now very willing to grant you all +Harriet's good qualities. I have taken some pains for your sake, and for +Robert Martin's sake, (whom I have always had reason to believe as much +in love with her as ever,) to get acquainted with her. I have often +talked to her a good deal. You must have seen that I did. Sometimes, +indeed, I have thought you were half suspecting me of pleading poor +Martin's cause, which was never the case; but, from all my observations, +I am convinced of her being an artless, amiable girl, with very good +notions, very seriously good principles, and placing her happiness in +the affections and utility of domestic life.--Much of this, I have no +doubt, she may thank you for.” + +“Me!” cried Emma, shaking her head.--“Ah! poor Harriet!” + +She checked herself, however, and submitted quietly to a little more +praise than she deserved. + +Their conversation was soon afterwards closed by the entrance of her +father. She was not sorry. She wanted to be alone. Her mind was in a +state of flutter and wonder, which made it impossible for her to be +collected. She was in dancing, singing, exclaiming spirits; and till she +had moved about, and talked to herself, and laughed and reflected, she +could be fit for nothing rational. + +Her father's business was to announce James's being gone out to put the +horses to, preparatory to their now daily drive to Randalls; and she +had, therefore, an immediate excuse for disappearing. + +The joy, the gratitude, the exquisite delight of her sensations may be +imagined. The sole grievance and alloy thus removed in the prospect of +Harriet's welfare, she was really in danger of becoming too happy for +security.--What had she to wish for? Nothing, but to grow more worthy of +him, whose intentions and judgment had been ever so superior to her own. +Nothing, but that the lessons of her past folly might teach her humility +and circumspection in future. + +Serious she was, very serious in her thankfulness, and in her +resolutions; and yet there was no preventing a laugh, sometimes in the +very midst of them. She must laugh at such a close! Such an end of the +doleful disappointment of five weeks back! Such a heart--such a Harriet! + +Now there would be pleasure in her returning--Every thing would be a +pleasure. It would be a great pleasure to know Robert Martin. + +High in the rank of her most serious and heartfelt felicities, was the +reflection that all necessity of concealment from Mr. Knightley would +soon be over. The disguise, equivocation, mystery, so hateful to her to +practise, might soon be over. She could now look forward to giving him +that full and perfect confidence which her disposition was most ready to +welcome as a duty. + +In the gayest and happiest spirits she set forward with her father; not +always listening, but always agreeing to what he said; and, whether in +speech or silence, conniving at the comfortable persuasion of his +being obliged to go to Randalls every day, or poor Mrs. Weston would be +disappointed. + +They arrived.--Mrs. Weston was alone in the drawing-room:--but hardly +had they been told of the baby, and Mr. Woodhouse received the thanks +for coming, which he asked for, when a glimpse was caught through the +blind, of two figures passing near the window. + +“It is Frank and Miss Fairfax,” said Mrs. Weston. “I was just going to +tell you of our agreeable surprize in seeing him arrive this morning. He +stays till to-morrow, and Miss Fairfax has been persuaded to spend the +day with us.--They are coming in, I hope.” + +In half a minute they were in the room. Emma was extremely glad to +see him--but there was a degree of confusion--a number of embarrassing +recollections on each side. They met readily and smiling, but with a +consciousness which at first allowed little to be said; and having all +sat down again, there was for some time such a blank in the circle, that +Emma began to doubt whether the wish now indulged, which she had long +felt, of seeing Frank Churchill once more, and of seeing him with Jane, +would yield its proportion of pleasure. When Mr. Weston joined the +party, however, and when the baby was fetched, there was no longer a +want of subject or animation--or of courage and opportunity for Frank +Churchill to draw near her and say, + +“I have to thank you, Miss Woodhouse, for a very kind forgiving message +in one of Mrs. Weston's letters. I hope time has not made you less +willing to pardon. I hope you do not retract what you then said.” + +“No, indeed,” cried Emma, most happy to begin, “not in the least. I am +particularly glad to see and shake hands with you--and to give you joy +in person.” + +He thanked her with all his heart, and continued some time to speak with +serious feeling of his gratitude and happiness. + +“Is not she looking well?” said he, turning his eyes towards Jane. +“Better than she ever used to do?--You see how my father and Mrs. Weston +doat upon her.” + +But his spirits were soon rising again, and with laughing eyes, after +mentioning the expected return of the Campbells, he named the name of +Dixon.--Emma blushed, and forbade its being pronounced in her hearing. + +“I can never think of it,” she cried, “without extreme shame.” + +“The shame,” he answered, “is all mine, or ought to be. But is it +possible that you had no suspicion?--I mean of late. Early, I know, you +had none.” + +“I never had the smallest, I assure you.” + +“That appears quite wonderful. I was once very near--and I wish I +had--it would have been better. But though I was always doing wrong +things, they were very bad wrong things, and such as did me no +service.--It would have been a much better transgression had I broken +the bond of secrecy and told you every thing.” + +“It is not now worth a regret,” said Emma. + +“I have some hope,” resumed he, “of my uncle's being persuaded to pay a +visit at Randalls; he wants to be introduced to her. When the Campbells +are returned, we shall meet them in London, and continue there, I trust, +till we may carry her northward.--But now, I am at such a distance from +her--is not it hard, Miss Woodhouse?--Till this morning, we have not +once met since the day of reconciliation. Do not you pity me?” + +Emma spoke her pity so very kindly, that with a sudden accession of gay +thought, he cried, + +“Ah! by the bye,” then sinking his voice, and looking demure for the +moment--“I hope Mr. Knightley is well?” He paused.--She coloured and +laughed.--“I know you saw my letter, and think you may remember my wish +in your favour. Let me return your congratulations.--I assure you that +I have heard the news with the warmest interest and satisfaction.--He is +a man whom I cannot presume to praise.” + +Emma was delighted, and only wanted him to go on in the same style; but +his mind was the next moment in his own concerns and with his own Jane, +and his next words were, + +“Did you ever see such a skin?--such smoothness! such delicacy!--and +yet without being actually fair.--One cannot call her fair. It is a +most uncommon complexion, with her dark eye-lashes and hair--a most +distinguishing complexion! So peculiarly the lady in it.--Just colour +enough for beauty.” + +“I have always admired her complexion,” replied Emma, archly; “but +do not I remember the time when you found fault with her for being so +pale?--When we first began to talk of her.--Have you quite forgotten?” + +“Oh! no--what an impudent dog I was!--How could I dare--” + +But he laughed so heartily at the recollection, that Emma could not help +saying, + +“I do suspect that in the midst of your perplexities at that time, you +had very great amusement in tricking us all.--I am sure you had.--I am +sure it was a consolation to you.” + +“Oh! no, no, no--how can you suspect me of such a thing? I was the most +miserable wretch!” + +“Not quite so miserable as to be insensible to mirth. I am sure it was a +source of high entertainment to you, to feel that you were taking us +all in.--Perhaps I am the readier to suspect, because, to tell you the +truth, I think it might have been some amusement to myself in the same +situation. I think there is a little likeness between us.” + +He bowed. + +“If not in our dispositions,” she presently added, with a look of true +sensibility, “there is a likeness in our destiny; the destiny which bids +fair to connect us with two characters so much superior to our own.” + +“True, true,” he answered, warmly. “No, not true on your side. You can +have no superior, but most true on mine.--She is a complete angel. Look +at her. Is not she an angel in every gesture? Observe the turn of her +throat. Observe her eyes, as she is looking up at my father.--You will +be glad to hear (inclining his head, and whispering seriously) that my +uncle means to give her all my aunt's jewels. They are to be new set. +I am resolved to have some in an ornament for the head. Will not it be +beautiful in her dark hair?” + +“Very beautiful, indeed,” replied Emma; and she spoke so kindly, that he +gratefully burst out, + +“How delighted I am to see you again! and to see you in such excellent +looks!--I would not have missed this meeting for the world. I should +certainly have called at Hartfield, had you failed to come.” + +The others had been talking of the child, Mrs. Weston giving an account +of a little alarm she had been under, the evening before, from the +infant's appearing not quite well. She believed she had been foolish, +but it had alarmed her, and she had been within half a minute of sending +for Mr. Perry. Perhaps she ought to be ashamed, but Mr. Weston had been +almost as uneasy as herself.--In ten minutes, however, the child had +been perfectly well again. This was her history; and particularly +interesting it was to Mr. Woodhouse, who commended her very much for +thinking of sending for Perry, and only regretted that she had not done +it. “She should always send for Perry, if the child appeared in the +slightest degree disordered, were it only for a moment. She could not be +too soon alarmed, nor send for Perry too often. It was a pity, perhaps, +that he had not come last night; for, though the child seemed well now, +very well considering, it would probably have been better if Perry had +seen it.” + +Frank Churchill caught the name. + +“Perry!” said he to Emma, and trying, as he spoke, to catch Miss +Fairfax's eye. “My friend Mr. Perry! What are they saying about Mr. +Perry?--Has he been here this morning?--And how does he travel now?--Has +he set up his carriage?” + +Emma soon recollected, and understood him; and while she joined in the +laugh, it was evident from Jane's countenance that she too was really +hearing him, though trying to seem deaf. + +“Such an extraordinary dream of mine!” he cried. “I can never think of +it without laughing.--She hears us, she hears us, Miss Woodhouse. I see +it in her cheek, her smile, her vain attempt to frown. Look at her. Do +not you see that, at this instant, the very passage of her own letter, +which sent me the report, is passing under her eye--that the whole +blunder is spread before her--that she can attend to nothing else, +though pretending to listen to the others?” + +Jane was forced to smile completely, for a moment; and the smile partly +remained as she turned towards him, and said in a conscious, low, yet +steady voice, + +“How you can bear such recollections, is astonishing to me!--They +_will_ sometimes obtrude--but how you can court them!” + +He had a great deal to say in return, and very entertainingly; but +Emma's feelings were chiefly with Jane, in the argument; and on leaving +Randalls, and falling naturally into a comparison of the two men, she +felt, that pleased as she had been to see Frank Churchill, and really +regarding him as she did with friendship, she had never been more +sensible of Mr. Knightley's high superiority of character. The happiness +of this most happy day, received its completion, in the animated +contemplation of his worth which this comparison produced. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +If Emma had still, at intervals, an anxious feeling for Harriet, a +momentary doubt of its being possible for her to be really cured of her +attachment to Mr. Knightley, and really able to accept another man from +unbiased inclination, it was not long that she had to suffer from the +recurrence of any such uncertainty. A very few days brought the party +from London, and she had no sooner an opportunity of being one hour +alone with Harriet, than she became perfectly satisfied--unaccountable +as it was!--that Robert Martin had thoroughly supplanted Mr. Knightley, +and was now forming all her views of happiness. + +Harriet was a little distressed--did look a little foolish at first: +but having once owned that she had been presumptuous and silly, and +self-deceived, before, her pain and confusion seemed to die away with +the words, and leave her without a care for the past, and with the +fullest exultation in the present and future; for, as to her friend's +approbation, Emma had instantly removed every fear of that nature, by +meeting her with the most unqualified congratulations.--Harriet was +most happy to give every particular of the evening at Astley's, and the +dinner the next day; she could dwell on it all with the utmost delight. +But what did such particulars explain?--The fact was, as Emma could now +acknowledge, that Harriet had always liked Robert Martin; and that his +continuing to love her had been irresistible.--Beyond this, it must ever +be unintelligible to Emma. + +The event, however, was most joyful; and every day was giving her fresh +reason for thinking so.--Harriet's parentage became known. She proved +to be the daughter of a tradesman, rich enough to afford her the +comfortable maintenance which had ever been hers, and decent enough to +have always wished for concealment.--Such was the blood of gentility +which Emma had formerly been so ready to vouch for!--It was likely to +be as untainted, perhaps, as the blood of many a gentleman: but what +a connexion had she been preparing for Mr. Knightley--or for the +Churchills--or even for Mr. Elton!--The stain of illegitimacy, +unbleached by nobility or wealth, would have been a stain indeed. + +No objection was raised on the father's side; the young man was treated +liberally; it was all as it should be: and as Emma became acquainted +with Robert Martin, who was now introduced at Hartfield, she fully +acknowledged in him all the appearance of sense and worth which could +bid fairest for her little friend. She had no doubt of Harriet's +happiness with any good-tempered man; but with him, and in the home he +offered, there would be the hope of more, of security, stability, and +improvement. She would be placed in the midst of those who loved her, +and who had better sense than herself; retired enough for safety, +and occupied enough for cheerfulness. She would be never led into +temptation, nor left for it to find her out. She would be respectable +and happy; and Emma admitted her to be the luckiest creature in the +world, to have created so steady and persevering an affection in such a +man;--or, if not quite the luckiest, to yield only to herself. + +Harriet, necessarily drawn away by her engagements with the Martins, +was less and less at Hartfield; which was not to be regretted.--The +intimacy between her and Emma must sink; their friendship must change +into a calmer sort of goodwill; and, fortunately, what ought to be, +and must be, seemed already beginning, and in the most gradual, natural +manner. + +Before the end of September, Emma attended Harriet to church, and saw +her hand bestowed on Robert Martin with so complete a satisfaction, as +no remembrances, even connected with Mr. Elton as he stood before them, +could impair.--Perhaps, indeed, at that time she scarcely saw Mr. Elton, +but as the clergyman whose blessing at the altar might next fall on +herself.--Robert Martin and Harriet Smith, the latest couple engaged of +the three, were the first to be married. + +Jane Fairfax had already quitted Highbury, and was restored to the +comforts of her beloved home with the Campbells.--The Mr. Churchills +were also in town; and they were only waiting for November. + +The intermediate month was the one fixed on, as far as they dared, by +Emma and Mr. Knightley.--They had determined that their marriage ought +to be concluded while John and Isabella were still at Hartfield, to +allow them the fortnight's absence in a tour to the seaside, which was +the plan.--John and Isabella, and every other friend, were agreed in +approving it. But Mr. Woodhouse--how was Mr. Woodhouse to be induced +to consent?--he, who had never yet alluded to their marriage but as a +distant event. + +When first sounded on the subject, he was so miserable, that they were +almost hopeless.--A second allusion, indeed, gave less pain.--He +began to think it was to be, and that he could not prevent it--a very +promising step of the mind on its way to resignation. Still, however, he +was not happy. Nay, he appeared so much otherwise, that his daughter's +courage failed. She could not bear to see him suffering, to know +him fancying himself neglected; and though her understanding almost +acquiesced in the assurance of both the Mr. Knightleys, that when +once the event were over, his distress would be soon over too, she +hesitated--she could not proceed. + +In this state of suspense they were befriended, not by any sudden +illumination of Mr. Woodhouse's mind, or any wonderful change of his +nervous system, but by the operation of the same system in another +way.--Mrs. Weston's poultry-house was robbed one night of all her +turkeys--evidently by the ingenuity of man. Other poultry-yards in +the neighbourhood also suffered.--Pilfering was _housebreaking_ to Mr. +Woodhouse's fears.--He was very uneasy; and but for the sense of his +son-in-law's protection, would have been under wretched alarm every +night of his life. The strength, resolution, and presence of mind of the +Mr. Knightleys, commanded his fullest dependence. While either of them +protected him and his, Hartfield was safe.--But Mr. John Knightley must +be in London again by the end of the first week in November. + +The result of this distress was, that, with a much more voluntary, +cheerful consent than his daughter had ever presumed to hope for at the +moment, she was able to fix her wedding-day--and Mr. Elton was called +on, within a month from the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Martin, to +join the hands of Mr. Knightley and Miss Woodhouse. + +The wedding was very much like other weddings, where the parties have +no taste for finery or parade; and Mrs. Elton, from the particulars +detailed by her husband, thought it all extremely shabby, and very +inferior to her own.--“Very little white satin, very few lace veils; a +most pitiful business!--Selina would stare when she heard of it.”--But, +in spite of these deficiencies, the wishes, the hopes, the confidence, +the predictions of the small band of true friends who witnessed the +ceremony, were fully answered in the perfect happiness of the union. + + + +FINIS + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Emma, by Jane Austen + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EMMA *** + +***** This file should be named 158-0.txt or 158-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/158/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Scene I. +Elsinore. A platform before the Castle. + +Enter two Sentinels-[first,] Francisco, [who paces up and down +at his post; then] Bernardo, [who approaches him]. + + Ber. Who's there.? + Fran. Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself. + Ber. Long live the King! + Fran. Bernardo? + Ber. He. + Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour. + Ber. 'Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to bed, Francisco. + Fran. For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold, + And I am sick at heart. + Ber. Have you had quiet guard? + Fran. Not a mouse stirring. + Ber. Well, good night. + If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, + The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste. + + Enter Horatio and Marcellus. + + Fran. I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who is there? + Hor. Friends to this ground. + Mar. And liegemen to the Dane. + Fran. Give you good night. + Mar. O, farewell, honest soldier. + Who hath reliev'd you? + Fran. Bernardo hath my place. + Give you good night. Exit. + Mar. Holla, Bernardo! + Ber. Say- + What, is Horatio there ? + Hor. A piece of him. + Ber. Welcome, Horatio. Welcome, good Marcellus. + Mar. What, has this thing appear'd again to-night? + Ber. I have seen nothing. + Mar. Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy, + And will not let belief take hold of him + Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us. + Therefore I have entreated him along, + With us to watch the minutes of this night, + That, if again this apparition come, + He may approve our eyes and speak to it. + Hor. Tush, tush, 'twill not appear. + Ber. Sit down awhile, + And let us once again assail your ears, + That are so fortified against our story, + What we two nights have seen. + Hor. Well, sit we down, + And let us hear Bernardo speak of this. + Ber. Last night of all, + When yond same star that's westward from the pole + Had made his course t' illume that part of heaven + Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself, + The bell then beating one- + + Enter Ghost. + + Mar. Peace! break thee off! Look where it comes again! + Ber. In the same figure, like the King that's dead. + Mar. Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio. + Ber. Looks it not like the King? Mark it, Horatio. + Hor. Most like. It harrows me with fear and wonder. + Ber. It would be spoke to. + Mar. Question it, Horatio. + Hor. What art thou that usurp'st this time of night + Together with that fair and warlike form + In which the majesty of buried Denmark + Did sometimes march? By heaven I charge thee speak! + Mar. It is offended. + Ber. See, it stalks away! + Hor. Stay! Speak, speak! I charge thee speak! + Exit Ghost. + Mar. 'Tis gone and will not answer. + Ber. How now, Horatio? You tremble and look pale. + Is not this something more than fantasy? + What think you on't? + Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe + Without the sensible and true avouch + Of mine own eyes. + Mar. Is it not like the King? + Hor. As thou art to thyself. + Such was the very armour he had on + When he th' ambitious Norway combated. + So frown'd he once when, in an angry parle, + He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice. + 'Tis strange. + Mar. Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, + With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch. + Hor. In what particular thought to work I know not; + But, in the gross and scope of my opinion, + This bodes some strange eruption to our state. + Mar. Good now, sit down, and tell me he that knows, + Why this same strict and most observant watch + So nightly toils the subject of the land, + And why such daily cast of brazen cannon + And foreign mart for implements of war; + Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task + Does not divide the Sunday from the week. + What might be toward, that this sweaty haste + Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day? + Who is't that can inform me? + Hor. That can I. + At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king, + Whose image even but now appear'd to us, + Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway, + Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride, + Dar'd to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet + (For so this side of our known world esteem'd him) + Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a seal'd compact, + Well ratified by law and heraldry, + Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands + Which he stood seiz'd of, to the conqueror; + Against the which a moiety competent + Was gaged by our king; which had return'd + To the inheritance of Fortinbras, + Had he been vanquisher, as, by the same comart + And carriage of the article design'd, + His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras, + Of unimproved mettle hot and full, + Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there, + Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes, + For food and diet, to some enterprise + That hath a stomach in't; which is no other, + As it doth well appear unto our state, + But to recover of us, by strong hand + And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands + So by his father lost; and this, I take it, + Is the main motive of our preparations, + The source of this our watch, and the chief head + Of this post-haste and romage in the land. + Ber. I think it be no other but e'en so. + Well may it sort that this portentous figure + Comes armed through our watch, so like the King + That was and is the question of these wars. + Hor. A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye. + In the most high and palmy state of Rome, + A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, + The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead + Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets; + As stars with trains of fire, and dews of blood, + Disasters in the sun; and the moist star + Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands + Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse. + And even the like precurse of fierce events, + As harbingers preceding still the fates + And prologue to the omen coming on, + Have heaven and earth together demonstrated + Unto our climature and countrymen. + + Enter Ghost again. + + But soft! behold! Lo, where it comes again! + I'll cross it, though it blast me.- Stay illusion! + Spreads his arms. + If thou hast any sound, or use of voice, + Speak to me. + If there be any good thing to be done, + That may to thee do ease, and, race to me, + Speak to me. + If thou art privy to thy country's fate, + Which happily foreknowing may avoid, + O, speak! + Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life + Extorted treasure in the womb of earth + (For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death), + The cock crows. + Speak of it! Stay, and speak!- Stop it, Marcellus! + Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partisan? + Hor. Do, if it will not stand. + Ber. 'Tis here! + Hor. 'Tis here! + Mar. 'Tis gone! + Exit Ghost. + We do it wrong, being so majestical, + To offer it the show of violence; + For it is as the air, invulnerable, + And our vain blows malicious mockery. + Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crew. + Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing + Upon a fearful summons. I have heard + The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, + Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat + Awake the god of day; and at his warning, + Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, + Th' extravagant and erring spirit hies + To his confine; and of the truth herein + This present object made probation. + Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock. + Some say that ever, 'gainst that season comes + Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, + The bird of dawning singeth all night long; + And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad, + The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike, + No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, + So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. + Hor. So have I heard and do in part believe it. + But look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, + Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill. + Break we our watch up; and by my advice + Let us impart what we have seen to-night + Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life, + This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him. + Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it, + As needful in our loves, fitting our duty? + Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know + Where we shall find him most conveniently. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Elsinore. A room of state in the Castle. + +Flourish. [Enter Claudius, King of Denmark, Gertrude the Queen, Hamlet, +Polonius, Laertes and his sister Ophelia, [Voltemand, Cornelius,] +Lords Attendant. + + King. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death + The memory be green, and that it us befitted + To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom + To be contracted in one brow of woe, + Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature + That we with wisest sorrow think on him + Together with remembrance of ourselves. + Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, + Th' imperial jointress to this warlike state, + Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy, + With an auspicious, and a dropping eye, + With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage, + In equal scale weighing delight and dole, + Taken to wife; nor have we herein barr'd + Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone + With this affair along. For all, our thanks. + Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras, + Holding a weak supposal of our worth, + Or thinking by our late dear brother's death + Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, + Colleagued with this dream of his advantage, + He hath not fail'd to pester us with message + Importing the surrender of those lands + Lost by his father, with all bands of law, + To our most valiant brother. So much for him. + Now for ourself and for this time of meeting. + Thus much the business is: we have here writ + To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras, + Who, impotent and bedrid, scarcely hears + Of this his nephew's purpose, to suppress + His further gait herein, in that the levies, + The lists, and full proportions are all made + Out of his subject; and we here dispatch + You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltemand, + For bearers of this greeting to old Norway, + Giving to you no further personal power + To business with the King, more than the scope + Of these dilated articles allow. [Gives a paper.] + Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty. + Cor., Volt. In that, and all things, will we show our duty. + King. We doubt it nothing. Heartily farewell. + Exeunt Voltemand and Cornelius. + And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? + You told us of some suit. What is't, Laertes? + You cannot speak of reason to the Dane + And lose your voice. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes, + That shall not be my offer, not thy asking? + The head is not more native to the heart, + The hand more instrumental to the mouth, + Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. + What wouldst thou have, Laertes? + Laer. My dread lord, + Your leave and favour to return to France; + From whence though willingly I came to Denmark + To show my duty in your coronation, + Yet now I must confess, that duty done, + My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France + And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon. + King. Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius? + Pol. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave + By laboursome petition, and at last + Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent. + I do beseech you give him leave to go. + King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes. Time be thine, + And thy best graces spend it at thy will! + But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son- + Ham. [aside] A little more than kin, and less than kind! + King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you? + Ham. Not so, my lord. I am too much i' th' sun. + Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, + And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. + Do not for ever with thy vailed lids + Seek for thy noble father in the dust. + Thou know'st 'tis common. All that lives must die, + Passing through nature to eternity. + Ham. Ay, madam, it is common. + Queen. If it be, + Why seems it so particular with thee? + Ham. Seems, madam, Nay, it is. I know not 'seems.' + 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, + Nor customary suits of solemn black, + Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, + No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, + Nor the dejected havior of the visage, + Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief, + 'That can denote me truly. These indeed seem, + For they are actions that a man might play; + But I have that within which passeth show- + These but the trappings and the suits of woe. + King. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, + To give these mourning duties to your father; + But you must know, your father lost a father; + That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound + In filial obligation for some term + To do obsequious sorrow. But to persever + In obstinate condolement is a course + Of impious stubbornness. 'Tis unmanly grief; + It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, + A heart unfortified, a mind impatient, + An understanding simple and unschool'd; + For what we know must be, and is as common + As any the most vulgar thing to sense, + Why should we in our peevish opposition + Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven, + A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, + To reason most absurd, whose common theme + Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried, + From the first corse till he that died to-day, + 'This must be so.' We pray you throw to earth + This unprevailing woe, and think of us + As of a father; for let the world take note + You are the most immediate to our throne, + And with no less nobility of love + Than that which dearest father bears his son + Do I impart toward you. For your intent + In going back to school in Wittenberg, + It is most retrograde to our desire; + And we beseech you, bend you to remain + Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye, + Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son. + Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet. + I pray thee stay with us, go not to Wittenberg. + Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam. + King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply. + Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come. + This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet + Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof, + No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day + But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell, + And the King's rouse the heaven shall bruit again, + Respeaking earthly thunder. Come away. + Flourish. Exeunt all but Hamlet. + Ham. O that this too too solid flesh would melt, + Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew! + Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd + His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! + How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable + Seem to me all the uses of this world! + Fie on't! ah, fie! 'Tis an unweeded garden + That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature + Possess it merely. That it should come to this! + But two months dead! Nay, not so much, not two. + So excellent a king, that was to this + Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother + That he might not beteem the winds of heaven + Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! + Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him + As if increase of appetite had grown + By what it fed on; and yet, within a month- + Let me not think on't! Frailty, thy name is woman!- + A little month, or ere those shoes were old + With which she followed my poor father's body + Like Niobe, all tears- why she, even she + (O God! a beast that wants discourse of reason + Would have mourn'd longer) married with my uncle; + My father's brother, but no more like my father + Than I to Hercules. Within a month, + Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears + Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, + She married. O, most wicked speed, to post + With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! + It is not, nor it cannot come to good. + But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue! + + Enter Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo. + + Hor. Hail to your lordship! + Ham. I am glad to see you well. + Horatio!- or I do forget myself. + Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. + Ham. Sir, my good friend- I'll change that name with you. + And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? + Marcellus? + Mar. My good lord! + Ham. I am very glad to see you.- [To Bernardo] Good even, sir.- + But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg? + Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord. + Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so, + Nor shall you do my ear that violence + To make it truster of your own report + Against yourself. I know you are no truant. + But what is your affair in Elsinore? + We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. + Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. + Ham. I prithee do not mock me, fellow student. + I think it was to see my mother's wedding. + Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon. + Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats + Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. + Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven + Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio! + My father- methinks I see my father. + Hor. O, where, my lord? + Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio. + Hor. I saw him once. He was a goodly king. + Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all. + I shall not look upon his like again. + Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight. + Ham. Saw? who? + Hor. My lord, the King your father. + Ham. The King my father? + Hor. Season your admiration for a while + With an attent ear, till I may deliver + Upon the witness of these gentlemen, + This marvel to you. + Ham. For God's love let me hear! + Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen + (Marcellus and Bernardo) on their watch + In the dead vast and middle of the night + Been thus encount'red. A figure like your father, + Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe, + Appears before them and with solemn march + Goes slow and stately by them. Thrice he walk'd + By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes, + Within his truncheon's length; whilst they distill'd + Almost to jelly with the act of fear, + Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me + In dreadful secrecy impart they did, + And I with them the third night kept the watch; + Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time, + Form of the thing, each word made true and good, + The apparition comes. I knew your father. + These hands are not more like. + Ham. But where was this? + Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd. + Ham. Did you not speak to it? + Hor. My lord, I did; + But answer made it none. Yet once methought + It lifted up it head and did address + Itself to motion, like as it would speak; + But even then the morning cock crew loud, + And at the sound it shrunk in haste away + And vanish'd from our sight. + Ham. 'Tis very strange. + Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true; + And we did think it writ down in our duty + To let you know of it. + Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs. But this troubles me. + Hold you the watch to-night? + Both [Mar. and Ber.] We do, my lord. + Ham. Arm'd, say you? + Both. Arm'd, my lord. + Ham. From top to toe? + Both. My lord, from head to foot. + Ham. Then saw you not his face? + Hor. O, yes, my lord! He wore his beaver up. + Ham. What, look'd he frowningly. + Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. + Ham. Pale or red? + Hor. Nay, very pale. + Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you? + Hor. Most constantly. + Ham. I would I had been there. + Hor. It would have much amaz'd you. + Ham. Very like, very like. Stay'd it long? + Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred. + Both. Longer, longer. + Hor. Not when I saw't. + Ham. His beard was grizzled- no? + Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, + A sable silver'd. + Ham. I will watch to-night. + Perchance 'twill walk again. + Hor. I warr'nt it will. + Ham. If it assume my noble father's person, + I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape + And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, + If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight, + Let it be tenable in your silence still; + And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, + Give it an understanding but no tongue. + I will requite your loves. So, fare you well. + Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve, + I'll visit you. + All. Our duty to your honour. + Ham. Your loves, as mine to you. Farewell. + Exeunt [all but Hamlet]. + My father's spirit- in arms? All is not well. + I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come! + Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise, + Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. +Exit. + + + + +Scene III. +Elsinore. A room in the house of Polonius. + +Enter Laertes and Ophelia. + + Laer. My necessaries are embark'd. Farewell. + And, sister, as the winds give benefit + And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, + But let me hear from you. + Oph. Do you doubt that? + Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, + Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood; + A violet in the youth of primy nature, + Forward, not permanent- sweet, not lasting; + The perfume and suppliance of a minute; + No more. + Oph. No more but so? + Laer. Think it no more. + For nature crescent does not grow alone + In thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes, + The inward service of the mind and soul + Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now, + And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch + The virtue of his will; but you must fear, + His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own; + For he himself is subject to his birth. + He may not, as unvalued persons do, + Carve for himself, for on his choice depends + The safety and health of this whole state, + And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd + Unto the voice and yielding of that body + Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you, + It fits your wisdom so far to believe it + As he in his particular act and place + May give his saying deed; which is no further + Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. + Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain + If with too credent ear you list his songs, + Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open + To his unmast'red importunity. + Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister, + And keep you in the rear of your affection, + Out of the shot and danger of desire. + The chariest maid is prodigal enough + If she unmask her beauty to the moon. + Virtue itself scopes not calumnious strokes. + The canker galls the infants of the spring + Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd, + And in the morn and liquid dew of youth + Contagious blastments are most imminent. + Be wary then; best safety lies in fear. + Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. + Oph. I shall th' effect of this good lesson keep + As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother, + Do not as some ungracious pastors do, + Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven, + Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, + Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads + And recks not his own rede. + Laer. O, fear me not! + + Enter Polonius. + + I stay too long. But here my father comes. + A double blessing is a double grace; + Occasion smiles upon a second leave. + Pol. Yet here, Laertes? Aboard, aboard, for shame! + The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, + And you are stay'd for. There- my blessing with thee! + And these few precepts in thy memory + Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, + Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. + Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar: + Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, + Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel; + But do not dull thy palm with entertainment + Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware + Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in, + Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee. + Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; + Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. + Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, + But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; + For the apparel oft proclaims the man, + And they in France of the best rank and station + Are most select and generous, chief in that. + Neither a borrower nor a lender be; + For loan oft loses both itself and friend, + And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. + This above all- to thine own self be true, + And it must follow, as the night the day, + Thou canst not then be false to any man. + Farewell. My blessing season this in thee! + Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. + Pol. The time invites you. Go, your servants tend. + Laer. Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well + What I have said to you. + Oph. 'Tis in my memory lock'd, + And you yourself shall keep the key of it. + Laer. Farewell. Exit. + Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you? + Oph. So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet. + Pol. Marry, well bethought! + 'Tis told me he hath very oft of late + Given private time to you, and you yourself + Have of your audience been most free and bounteous. + If it be so- as so 'tis put on me, + And that in way of caution- I must tell you + You do not understand yourself so clearly + As it behooves my daughter and your honour. + What is between you? Give me up the truth. + Oph. He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders + Of his affection to me. + Pol. Affection? Pooh! You speak like a green girl, + Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. + Do you believe his tenders, as you call them? + Oph. I do not know, my lord, what I should think, + Pol. Marry, I will teach you! Think yourself a baby + That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay, + Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly, + Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, + Running it thus) you'll tender me a fool. + Oph. My lord, he hath importun'd me with love + In honourable fashion. + Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it. Go to, go to! + Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, + With almost all the holy vows of heaven. + Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks! I do know, + When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul + Lends the tongue vows. These blazes, daughter, + Giving more light than heat, extinct in both + Even in their promise, as it is a-making, + You must not take for fire. From this time + Be something scanter of your maiden presence. + Set your entreatments at a higher rate + Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet, + Believe so much in him, that he is young, + And with a larger tether may he walk + Than may be given you. In few, Ophelia, + Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers, + Not of that dye which their investments show, + But mere implorators of unholy suits, + Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds, + The better to beguile. This is for all: + I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth + Have you so slander any moment leisure + As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet. + Look to't, I charge you. Come your ways. + Oph. I shall obey, my lord. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene IV. +Elsinore. The platform before the Castle. + +Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus. + + Ham. The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold. + Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air. + Ham. What hour now? + Hor. I think it lacks of twelve. + Mar. No, it is struck. + Hor. Indeed? I heard it not. It then draws near the season + Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. + A flourish of trumpets, and two pieces go off. + What does this mean, my lord? + Ham. The King doth wake to-night and takes his rouse, + Keeps wassail, and the swagg'ring upspring reels, + And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, + The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out + The triumph of his pledge. + Hor. Is it a custom? + Ham. Ay, marry, is't; + But to my mind, though I am native here + And to the manner born, it is a custom + More honour'd in the breach than the observance. + This heavy-headed revel east and west + Makes us traduc'd and tax'd of other nations; + They clip us drunkards and with swinish phrase + Soil our addition; and indeed it takes + From our achievements, though perform'd at height, + The pith and marrow of our attribute. + So oft it chances in particular men + That, for some vicious mole of nature in them, + As in their birth,- wherein they are not guilty, + Since nature cannot choose his origin,- + By the o'ergrowth of some complexion, + Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason, + Or by some habit that too much o'erleavens + The form of plausive manners, that these men + Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, + Being nature's livery, or fortune's star, + Their virtues else- be they as pure as grace, + As infinite as man may undergo- + Shall in the general censure take corruption + From that particular fault. The dram of e'il + Doth all the noble substance often dout To his own scandal. + + Enter Ghost. + + Hor. Look, my lord, it comes! + Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us! + Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd, + Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, + Be thy intents wicked or charitable, + Thou com'st in such a questionable shape + That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee Hamlet, + King, father, royal Dane. O, answer me? + Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell + Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death, + Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre + Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, + Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws + To cast thee up again. What may this mean + That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel, + Revisits thus the glimpses of the moon, + Making night hideous, and we fools of nature + So horridly to shake our disposition + With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? + Say, why is this? wherefore? What should we do? + Ghost beckons Hamlet. + Hor. It beckons you to go away with it, + As if it some impartment did desire + To you alone. + Mar. Look with what courteous action + It waves you to a more removed ground. + But do not go with it! + Hor. No, by no means! + Ham. It will not speak. Then will I follow it. + Hor. Do not, my lord! + Ham. Why, what should be the fear? + I do not set my life at a pin's fee; + And for my soul, what can it do to that, + Being a thing immortal as itself? + It waves me forth again. I'll follow it. + Hor. What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, + Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff + That beetles o'er his base into the sea, + And there assume some other, horrible form + Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason + And draw you into madness? Think of it. + The very place puts toys of desperation, + Without more motive, into every brain + That looks so many fadoms to the sea + And hears it roar beneath. + Ham. It waves me still. + Go on. I'll follow thee. + Mar. You shall not go, my lord. + Ham. Hold off your hands! + Hor. Be rul'd. You shall not go. + Ham. My fate cries out + And makes each petty artire in this body + As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. + [Ghost beckons.] + Still am I call'd. Unhand me, gentlemen. + By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!- + I say, away!- Go on. I'll follow thee. + Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet. + Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination. + Mar. Let's follow. 'Tis not fit thus to obey him. + Hor. Have after. To what issue wail this come? + Mar. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. + Hor. Heaven will direct it. + Mar. Nay, let's follow him. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene V. +Elsinore. The Castle. Another part of the fortifications. + +Enter Ghost and Hamlet. + + Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak! I'll go no further. + Ghost. Mark me. + Ham. I will. + Ghost. My hour is almost come, + When I to sulph'rous and tormenting flames + Must render up myself. + Ham. Alas, poor ghost! + Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing + To what I shall unfold. + Ham. Speak. I am bound to hear. + Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear. + Ham. What? + Ghost. I am thy father's spirit, + Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, + And for the day confin'd to fast in fires, + Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature + Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid + To tell the secrets of my prison house, + I could a tale unfold whose lightest word + Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, + Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, + Thy knotted and combined locks to part, + And each particular hair to stand an end + Like quills upon the fretful porpentine. + But this eternal blazon must not be + To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list! + If thou didst ever thy dear father love- + Ham. O God! + Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murther. + Ham. Murther? + Ghost. Murther most foul, as in the best it is; + But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. + Ham. Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift + As meditation or the thoughts of love, + May sweep to my revenge. + Ghost. I find thee apt; + And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed + That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, + Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear. + 'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, + A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark + Is by a forged process of my death + Rankly abus'd. But know, thou noble youth, + The serpent that did sting thy father's life + Now wears his crown. + Ham. O my prophetic soul! + My uncle? + Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, + With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts- + O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power + So to seduce!- won to his shameful lust + The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen. + O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there, + From me, whose love was of that dignity + That it went hand in hand even with the vow + I made to her in marriage, and to decline + Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor + To those of mine! + But virtue, as it never will be mov'd, + Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven, + So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd, + Will sate itself in a celestial bed + And prey on garbage. + But soft! methinks I scent the morning air. + Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard, + My custom always of the afternoon, + Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, + With juice of cursed hebona in a vial, + And in the porches of my ears did pour + The leperous distilment; whose effect + Holds such an enmity with blood of man + That swift as quicksilverr it courses through + The natural gates and alleys of the body, + And with a sudden vigour it doth posset + And curd, like eager droppings into milk, + The thin and wholesome blood. So did it mine; + And a most instant tetter bark'd about, + Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust + All my smooth body. + Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand + Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd; + Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, + Unhous'led, disappointed, unanel'd, + No reckoning made, but sent to my account + With all my imperfections on my head. + Ham. O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible! + Ghost. If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not. + Let not the royal bed of Denmark be + A couch for luxury and damned incest. + But, howsoever thou pursuest this act, + Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive + Against thy mother aught. Leave her to heaven, + And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge + To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once. + The glowworm shows the matin to be near + And gins to pale his uneffectual fire. + Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me. Exit. + Ham. O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else? + And shall I couple hell? Hold, hold, my heart! + And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, + But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee? + Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat + In this distracted globe. Remember thee? + Yea, from the table of my memory + I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, + All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past + That youth and observation copied there, + And thy commandment all alone shall live + Within the book and volume of my brain, + Unmix'd with baser matter. Yes, by heaven! + O most pernicious woman! + O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! + My tables! Meet it is I set it down + That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain; + At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark. [Writes.] + So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word: + It is 'Adieu, adieu! Remember me.' + I have sworn't. + Hor. (within) My lord, my lord! + + Enter Horatio and Marcellus. + + Mar. Lord Hamlet! + Hor. Heaven secure him! + Ham. So be it! + Mar. Illo, ho, ho, my lord! + Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! Come, bird, come. + Mar. How is't, my noble lord? + Hor. What news, my lord? + Mar. O, wonderful! + Hor. Good my lord, tell it. + Ham. No, you will reveal it. + Hor. Not I, my lord, by heaven! + Mar. Nor I, my lord. + Ham. How say you then? Would heart of man once think it? + But you'll be secret? + Both. Ay, by heaven, my lord. + Ham. There's neer a villain dwelling in all Denmark + But he's an arrant knave. + Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave + To tell us this. + Ham. Why, right! You are in the right! + And so, without more circumstance at all, + I hold it fit that we shake hands and part; + You, as your business and desires shall point you, + For every man hath business and desire, + Such as it is; and for my own poor part, + Look you, I'll go pray. + Hor. These are but wild and whirling words, my lord. + Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily; + Yes, faith, heartily. + Hor. There's no offence, my lord. + Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, + And much offence too. Touching this vision here, + It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you. + For your desire to know what is between us, + O'ermaster't as you may. And now, good friends, + As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, + Give me one poor request. + Hor. What is't, my lord? We will. + Ham. Never make known what you have seen to-night. + Both. My lord, we will not. + Ham. Nay, but swear't. + Hor. In faith, + My lord, not I. + Mar. Nor I, my lord- in faith. + Ham. Upon my sword. + Mar. We have sworn, my lord, already. + Ham. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. + + Ghost cries under the stage. + + Ghost. Swear. + Ham. Aha boy, say'st thou so? Art thou there, truepenny? + Come on! You hear this fellow in the cellarage. + Consent to swear. + Hor. Propose the oath, my lord. + Ham. Never to speak of this that you have seen. + Swear by my sword. + Ghost. [beneath] Swear. + Ham. Hic et ubique? Then we'll shift our ground. + Come hither, gentlemen, + And lay your hands again upon my sword. + Never to speak of this that you have heard: + Swear by my sword. + Ghost. [beneath] Swear by his sword. + Ham. Well said, old mole! Canst work i' th' earth so fast? + A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good friends." + Hor. O day and night, but this is wondrous strange! + Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. + There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, + Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. + But come! + Here, as before, never, so help you mercy, + How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself + (As I perchance hereafter shall think meet + To put an antic disposition on), + That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, + With arms encumb'red thus, or this head-shake, + Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase, + As 'Well, well, we know,' or 'We could, an if we would,' + Or 'If we list to speak,' or 'There be, an if they might,' + Or such ambiguous giving out, to note + That you know aught of me- this is not to do, + So grace and mercy at your most need help you, + Swear. + Ghost. [beneath] Swear. + [They swear.] + Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! So, gentlemen, + With all my love I do commend me to you; + And what so poor a man as Hamlet is + May do t' express his love and friending to you, + God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together; + And still your fingers on your lips, I pray. + The time is out of joint. O cursed spite + That ever I was born to set it right! + Nay, come, let's go together. + Exeunt. + + + + +Act II. Scene I. +Elsinore. A room in the house of Polonius. + +Enter Polonius and Reynaldo. + + Pol. Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo. + Rey. I will, my lord. + Pol. You shall do marvell's wisely, good Reynaldo, + Before You visit him, to make inquire + Of his behaviour. + Rey. My lord, I did intend it. + Pol. Marry, well said, very well said. Look you, sir, + Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; + And how, and who, what means, and where they keep, + What company, at what expense; and finding + By this encompassment and drift of question + That they do know my son, come you more nearer + Than your particular demands will touch it. + Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him; + As thus, 'I know his father and his friends, + And in part him.' Do you mark this, Reynaldo? + Rey. Ay, very well, my lord. + Pol. 'And in part him, but,' you may say, 'not well. + But if't be he I mean, he's very wild + Addicted so and so'; and there put on him + What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank + As may dishonour him- take heed of that; + But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips + As are companions noted and most known + To youth and liberty. + Rey. As gaming, my lord. + Pol. Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling, + Drabbing. You may go so far. + Rey. My lord, that would dishonour him. + Pol. Faith, no, as you may season it in the charge. + You must not put another scandal on him, + That he is open to incontinency. + That's not my meaning. But breathe his faults so quaintly + That they may seem the taints of liberty, + The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind, + A savageness in unreclaimed blood, + Of general assault. + Rey. But, my good lord- + Pol. Wherefore should you do this? + Rey. Ay, my lord, + I would know that. + Pol. Marry, sir, here's my drift, + And I believe it is a fetch of warrant. + You laying these slight sullies on my son + As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' th' working, + Mark you, + Your party in converse, him you would sound, + Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes + The youth you breathe of guilty, be assur'd + He closes with you in this consequence: + 'Good sir,' or so, or 'friend,' or 'gentleman'- + According to the phrase or the addition + Of man and country- + Rey. Very good, my lord. + Pol. And then, sir, does 'a this- 'a does- What was I about to say? + By the mass, I was about to say something! Where did I leave? + Rey. At 'closes in the consequence,' at 'friend or so,' and + gentleman.' + Pol. At 'closes in the consequence'- Ay, marry! + He closes thus: 'I know the gentleman. + I saw him yesterday, or t'other day, + Or then, or then, with such or such; and, as you say, + There was 'a gaming; there o'ertook in's rouse; + There falling out at tennis'; or perchance, + 'I saw him enter such a house of sale,' + Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth. + See you now- + Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth; + And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, + With windlasses and with assays of bias, + By indirections find directions out. + So, by my former lecture and advice, + Shall you my son. You have me, have you not + Rey. My lord, I have. + Pol. God b' wi' ye, fare ye well! + Rey. Good my lord! [Going.] + Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself. + Rey. I shall, my lord. + Pol. And let him ply his music. + Rey. Well, my lord. + Pol. Farewell! + Exit Reynaldo. + + Enter Ophelia. + + How now, Ophelia? What's the matter? + Oph. O my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted! + Pol. With what, i' th' name of God I + Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, + Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac'd, + No hat upon his head, his stockings foul'd, + Ungart'red, and down-gyved to his ankle; + Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other, + And with a look so piteous in purport + As if he had been loosed out of hell + To speak of horrors- he comes before me. + Pol. Mad for thy love? + Oph. My lord, I do not know, + But truly I do fear it. + Pol. What said he? + Oph. He took me by the wrist and held me hard; + Then goes he to the length of all his arm, + And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow, + He falls to such perusal of my face + As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so. + At last, a little shaking of mine arm, + And thrice his head thus waving up and down, + He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound + As it did seem to shatter all his bulk + And end his being. That done, he lets me go, + And with his head over his shoulder turn'd + He seem'd to find his way without his eyes, + For out o' doors he went without their help + And to the last bended their light on me. + Pol. Come, go with me. I will go seek the King. + This is the very ecstasy of love, + Whose violent property fordoes itself + And leads the will to desperate undertakings + As oft as any passion under heaven + That does afflict our natures. I am sorry. + What, have you given him any hard words of late? + Oph. No, my good lord; but, as you did command, + I did repel his letters and denied + His access to me. + Pol. That hath made him mad. + I am sorry that with better heed and judgment + I had not quoted him. I fear'd he did but trifle + And meant to wrack thee; but beshrew my jealousy! + By heaven, it is as proper to our age + To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions + As it is common for the younger sort + To lack discretion. Come, go we to the King. + This must be known; which, being kept close, might move + More grief to hide than hate to utter love. + Come. + Exeunt. + +Scene II. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Flourish. [Enter King and Queen, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, cum aliis. + + King. Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + Moreover that we much did long to see you, + The need we have to use you did provoke + Our hasty sending. Something have you heard + Of Hamlet's transformation. So I call it, + Sith nor th' exterior nor the inward man + Resembles that it was. What it should be, + More than his father's death, that thus hath put him + So much from th' understanding of himself, + I cannot dream of. I entreat you both + That, being of so young clays brought up with him, + And since so neighbour'd to his youth and haviour, + That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court + Some little time; so by your companies + To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather + So much as from occasion you may glean, + Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him thus + That, open'd, lies within our remedy. + Queen. Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you, + And sure I am two men there are not living + To whom he more adheres. If it will please you + To show us so much gentry and good will + As to expend your time with us awhile + For the supply and profit of our hope, + Your visitation shall receive such thanks + As fits a king's remembrance. + Ros. Both your Majesties + Might, by the sovereign power you have of us, + Put your dread pleasures more into command + Than to entreaty. + Guil. But we both obey, + And here give up ourselves, in the full bent, + To lay our service freely at your feet, + To be commanded. + King. Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern. + Queen. Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz. + And I beseech you instantly to visit + My too much changed son.- Go, some of you, + And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is. + Guil. Heavens make our presence and our practices + Pleasant and helpful to him! + Queen. Ay, amen! + Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, [with some + Attendants]. + + Enter Polonius. + + Pol. Th' ambassadors from Norway, my good lord, + Are joyfully return'd. + King. Thou still hast been the father of good news. + Pol. Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege, + I hold my duty as I hold my soul, + Both to my God and to my gracious king; + And I do think- or else this brain of mine + Hunts not the trail of policy so sure + As it hath us'd to do- that I have found + The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy. + King. O, speak of that! That do I long to hear. + Pol. Give first admittance to th' ambassadors. + My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. + King. Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in. + [Exit Polonius.] + He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found + The head and source of all your son's distemper. + Queen. I doubt it is no other but the main, + His father's death and our o'erhasty marriage. + King. Well, we shall sift him. + + Enter Polonius, Voltemand, and Cornelius. + + Welcome, my good friends. + Say, Voltemand, what from our brother Norway? + Volt. Most fair return of greetings and desires. + Upon our first, he sent out to suppress + His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd + To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack, + But better look'd into, he truly found + It was against your Highness; whereat griev'd, + That so his sickness, age, and impotence + Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests + On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys, + Receives rebuke from Norway, and, in fine, + Makes vow before his uncle never more + To give th' assay of arms against your Majesty. + Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy, + Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee + And his commission to employ those soldiers, + So levied as before, against the Polack; + With an entreaty, herein further shown, + [Gives a paper.] + That it might please you to give quiet pass + Through your dominions for this enterprise, + On such regards of safety and allowance + As therein are set down. + King. It likes us well; + And at our more consider'd time we'll read, + Answer, and think upon this business. + Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour. + Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together. + Most welcome home! Exeunt Ambassadors. + Pol. This business is well ended. + My liege, and madam, to expostulate + What majesty should be, what duty is, + Why day is day, night is night, and time is time. + Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time. + Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, + And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, + I will be brief. Your noble son is mad. + Mad call I it; for, to define true madness, + What is't but to be nothing else but mad? + But let that go. + Queen. More matter, with less art. + Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all. + That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity; + And pity 'tis 'tis true. A foolish figure! + But farewell it, for I will use no art. + Mad let us grant him then. And now remains + That we find out the cause of this effect- + Or rather say, the cause of this defect, + For this effect defective comes by cause. + Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. + Perpend. + I have a daughter (have while she is mine), + Who in her duty and obedience, mark, + Hath given me this. Now gather, and surmise. + [Reads] the letter. + 'To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most beautified + Ophelia,'- + + That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; 'beautified' is a vile + phrase. + But you shall hear. Thus: + [Reads.] + 'In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.' + Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her? + Pol. Good madam, stay awhile. I will be faithful. [Reads.] + + 'Doubt thou the stars are fire; + Doubt that the sun doth move; + Doubt truth to be a liar; + But never doubt I love. + 'O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not art to + reckon my groans; but that I love thee best, O most best, believe + it. Adieu. + 'Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him, + HAMLET.' + + This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me; + And more above, hath his solicitings, + As they fell out by time, by means, and place, + All given to mine ear. + King. But how hath she + Receiv'd his love? + Pol. What do you think of me? + King. As of a man faithful and honourable. + Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might you think, + When I had seen this hot love on the wing + (As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that, + Before my daughter told me), what might you, + Or my dear Majesty your queen here, think, + If I had play'd the desk or table book, + Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb, + Or look'd upon this love with idle sight? + What might you think? No, I went round to work + And my young mistress thus I did bespeak: + 'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star. + This must not be.' And then I prescripts gave her, + That she should lock herself from his resort, + Admit no messengers, receive no tokens. + Which done, she took the fruits of my advice, + And he, repulsed, a short tale to make, + Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, + Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, + Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension, + Into the madness wherein now he raves, + And all we mourn for. + King. Do you think 'tis this? + Queen. it may be, very like. + Pol. Hath there been such a time- I would fain know that- + That I have Positively said ''Tis so,' + When it prov'd otherwise.? + King. Not that I know. + Pol. [points to his head and shoulder] Take this from this, if this + be otherwise. + If circumstances lead me, I will find + Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed + Within the centre. + King. How may we try it further? + Pol. You know sometimes he walks four hours together + Here in the lobby. + Queen. So he does indeed. + Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him. + Be you and I behind an arras then. + Mark the encounter. If he love her not, + And he not from his reason fall'n thereon + Let me be no assistant for a state, + But keep a farm and carters. + King. We will try it. + + Enter Hamlet, reading on a book. + + Queen. But look where sadly the poor wretch comes reading. + Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away + I'll board him presently. O, give me leave. + Exeunt King and Queen, [with Attendants]. + How does my good Lord Hamlet? + Ham. Well, God-a-mercy. + Pol. Do you know me, my lord? + Ham. Excellent well. You are a fishmonger. + Pol. Not I, my lord. + Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man. + Pol. Honest, my lord? + Ham. Ay, sir. To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man + pick'd out of ten thousand. + Pol. That's very true, my lord. + Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god + kissing carrion- Have you a daughter? + Pol. I have, my lord. + Ham. Let her not walk i' th' sun. Conception is a blessing, but not + as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to't. + Pol. [aside] How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter. Yet + he knew me not at first. He said I was a fishmonger. He is far + gone, far gone! And truly in my youth I suff'red much extremity + for love- very near this. I'll speak to him again.- What do you + read, my lord? + Ham. Words, words, words. + Pol. What is the matter, my lord? + Ham. Between who? + Pol. I mean, the matter that you read, my lord. + Ham. Slanders, sir; for the satirical rogue says here that old men + have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes + purging thick amber and plum-tree gum; and that they have a + plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams. All which, + sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it + not honesty to have it thus set down; for you yourself, sir, + should be old as I am if, like a crab, you could go backward. + Pol. [aside] Though this be madness, yet there is a method in't.- + Will You walk out of the air, my lord? + Ham. Into my grave? + Pol. Indeed, that is out o' th' air. [Aside] How pregnant sometimes + his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which + reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I + will leave him and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between + him and my daughter.- My honourable lord, I will most humbly take + my leave of you. + Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more + willingly part withal- except my life, except my life, except my + life, + + Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + Pol. Fare you well, my lord. + Ham. These tedious old fools! + Pol. You go to seek the Lord Hamlet. There he is. + Ros. [to Polonius] God save you, sir! + Exit [Polonius]. + Guil. My honour'd lord! + Ros. My most dear lord! + Ham. My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, + Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both? + Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth. + Guil. Happy in that we are not over-happy. + On Fortune's cap we are not the very button. + Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe? + Ros. Neither, my lord. + Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her + favours? + Guil. Faith, her privates we. + Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? O! most true! she is a + strumpet. What news ? + Ros. None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest. + Ham. Then is doomsday near! But your news is not true. Let me + question more in particular. What have you, my good friends, + deserved at the hands of Fortune that she sends you to prison + hither? + Guil. Prison, my lord? + Ham. Denmark's a prison. + Ros. Then is the world one. + Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and + dungeons, Denmark being one o' th' worst. + Ros. We think not so, my lord. + Ham. Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good + or bad but thinking makes it so. To me it is a prison. + Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one. 'Tis too narrow for your + mind. + Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a + king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams. + Guil. Which dreams indeed are ambition; for the very substance of + the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. + Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow. + Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that + it is but a shadow's shadow. + Ham. Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and outstretch'd + heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we to th' court? for, by my + fay, I cannot reason. + Both. We'll wait upon you. + Ham. No such matter! I will not sort you with the rest of my + servants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most + dreadfully attended. But in the beaten way of friendship, what + make you at Elsinore? + Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion. + Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you; + and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny. Were + you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free + visitation? Come, deal justly with me. Come, come! Nay, speak. + Guil. What should we say, my lord? + Ham. Why, anything- but to th' purpose. You were sent for; and + there is a kind of confession in your looks, which your modesties + have not craft enough to colour. I know the good King and Queen + have sent for you. + Ros. To what end, my lord? + Ham. That you must teach me. But let me conjure you by the rights + of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the + obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a + better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with + me, whether you were sent for or no. + Ros. [aside to Guildenstern] What say you? + Ham. [aside] Nay then, I have an eye of you.- If you love me, hold + not off. + Guil. My lord, we were sent for. + Ham. I will tell you why. So shall my anticipation prevent your + discovery, and your secrecy to the King and Queen moult no + feather. I have of late- but wherefore I know not- lost all my + mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so + heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, + seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the + air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical + roof fretted with golden fire- why, it appeareth no other thing + to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a + piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in + faculties! in form and moving how express and admirable! in + action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the + beauty of the world, the paragon of animals! And yet to me what + is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me- no, nor woman + neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so. + Ros. My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts. + Ham. Why did you laugh then, when I said 'Man delights not me'? + Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten + entertainment the players shall receive from you. We coted them + on the way, and hither are they coming to offer you service. + Ham. He that plays the king shall be welcome- his Majesty shall + have tribute of me; the adventurous knight shall use his foil and + target; the lover shall not sigh gratis; the humorous man shall + end his part in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose + lungs are tickle o' th' sere; and the lady shall say her mind + freely, or the blank verse shall halt fort. What players are + they? + Ros. Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the + tragedians of the city. + Ham. How chances it they travel? Their residence, both in + reputation and profit, was better both ways. + Ros. I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late + innovation. + Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the + city? Are they so follow'd? + Ros. No indeed are they not. + Ham. How comes it? Do they grow rusty? + Ros. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace; but there is, + sir, an eyrie of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top + of question and are most tyrannically clapp'd fort. These are now + the fashion, and so berattle the common stages (so they call + them) that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goosequills and + dare scarce come thither. + Ham. What, are they children? Who maintains 'em? How are they + escoted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can + sing? Will they not say afterwards, if they should grow + themselves to common players (as it is most like, if their means + are no better), their writers do them wrong to make them exclaim + against their own succession. + Ros. Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and the nation + holds it no sin to tarre them to controversy. There was, for a + while, no money bid for argument unless the poet and the player + went to cuffs in the question. + Ham. Is't possible? + Guil. O, there has been much throwing about of brains. + Ham. Do the boys carry it away? + Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord- Hercules and his load too. + Ham. It is not very strange; for my uncle is King of Denmark, and + those that would make mows at him while my father lived give + twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred ducats apiece for his picture in + little. 'Sblood, there is something in this more than natural, if + philosophy could find it out. + + Flourish for the Players. + + Guil. There are the players. + Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, come! Th' + appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony. Let me comply + with you in this garb, lest my extent to the players (which I + tell you must show fairly outwards) should more appear like + entertainment than yours. You are welcome. But my uncle-father + and aunt-mother are deceiv'd. + Guil. In what, my dear lord? + Ham. I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly I + know a hawk from a handsaw. + + Enter Polonius. + + Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen! + Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern- and you too- at each ear a hearer! + That great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling + clouts. + Ros. Happily he's the second time come to them; for they say an old + man is twice a child. + Ham. I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players. Mark it.- + You say right, sir; a Monday morning; twas so indeed. + Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you. + Ham. My lord, I have news to tell you. When Roscius was an actor in + Rome- + Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord. + Ham. Buzz, buzz! + Pol. Upon my honour- + Ham. Then came each actor on his ass- + Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, + history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, + tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral; scene + individable, or poem unlimited. Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor + Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are + the only men. + Ham. O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou! + Pol. What treasure had he, my lord? + Ham. Why, + + 'One fair daughter, and no more, + The which he loved passing well.' + + Pol. [aside] Still on my daughter. + Ham. Am I not i' th' right, old Jephthah? + Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I + love passing well. + Ham. Nay, that follows not. + Pol. What follows then, my lord? + Ham. Why, + + 'As by lot, God wot,' + + and then, you know, + + 'It came to pass, as most like it was.' + + The first row of the pious chanson will show you more; for look + where my abridgment comes. + + Enter four or five Players. + + You are welcome, masters; welcome, all.- I am glad to see thee + well.- Welcome, good friends.- O, my old friend? Why, thy face is + valanc'd since I saw thee last. Com'st' thou to' beard me in + Denmark?- What, my young lady and mistress? By'r Lady, your + ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last by the + altitude of a chopine. Pray God your voice, like a piece of + uncurrent gold, be not crack'd within the ring.- Masters, you are + all welcome. We'll e'en to't like French falconers, fly at + anything we see. We'll have a speech straight. Come, give us a + taste of your quality. Come, a passionate speech. + 1. Play. What speech, my good lord? + Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was never acted; + or if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleas'd + not the million, 'twas caviary to the general; but it was (as I + receiv'd it, and others, whose judgments in such matters cried in + the top of mine) an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, + set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember one said + there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter savoury, + nor no matter in the phrase that might indict the author of + affectation; but call'd it an honest method, as wholesome as + sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One speech in't + I chiefly lov'd. 'Twas AEneas' tale to Dido, and thereabout of it + especially where he speaks of Priam's slaughter. If it live in + your memory, begin at this line- let me see, let me see: + + 'The rugged Pyrrhus, like th' Hyrcanian beast-' + + 'Tis not so; it begins with Pyrrhus: + + 'The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms, + Black as his purpose, did the night resemble + When he lay couched in the ominous horse, + Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd + With heraldry more dismal. Head to foot + Now is be total gules, horridly trick'd + With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, + Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets, + That lend a tyrannous and a damned light + To their lord's murther. Roasted in wrath and fire, + And thus o'ersized with coagulate gore, + With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus + Old grandsire Priam seeks.' + + So, proceed you. + Pol. Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good + discretion. + + 1. Play. 'Anon he finds him, + Striking too short at Greeks. His antique sword, + Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls, + Repugnant to command. Unequal match'd, + Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wide; + But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword + Th' unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium, + Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top + Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash + Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear. For lo! his sword, + Which was declining on the milky head + Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' th' air to stick. + So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood, + And, like a neutral to his will and matter, + Did nothing. + But, as we often see, against some storm, + A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still, + The bold winds speechless, and the orb below + As hush as death- anon the dreadful thunder + Doth rend the region; so, after Pyrrhus' pause, + Aroused vengeance sets him new awork; + And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall + On Mars's armour, forg'd for proof eterne, + With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword + Now falls on Priam. + Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune! All you gods, + In general synod take away her power; + Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel, + And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven, + As low as to the fiends! + + Pol. This is too long. + Ham. It shall to the barber's, with your beard.- Prithee say on. + He's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps. Say on; come to + Hecuba. + + 1. Play. 'But who, O who, had seen the mobled queen-' + + Ham. 'The mobled queen'? + Pol. That's good! 'Mobled queen' is good. + + 1. Play. 'Run barefoot up and down, threat'ning the flames + With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head + Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe, + About her lank and all o'erteemed loins, + A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up- + Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd + 'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have pronounc'd. + But if the gods themselves did see her then, + When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport + In Mincing with his sword her husband's limbs, + The instant burst of clamour that she made + (Unless things mortal move them not at all) + Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven + And passion in the gods.' + + Pol. Look, whe'r he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears in's + eyes. Prithee no more! + Ham. 'Tis well. I'll have thee speak out the rest of this soon.- + Good my lord, will you see the players well bestow'd? Do you + hear? Let them be well us'd; for they are the abstract and brief + chronicles of the time. After your death you were better have a + bad epitaph than their ill report while you live. + Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their desert. + Ham. God's bodykins, man, much better! Use every man after his + desert, and who should scape whipping? Use them after your own + honour and dignity. The less they deserve, the more merit is in + your bounty. Take them in. + Pol. Come, sirs. + Ham. Follow him, friends. We'll hear a play to-morrow. + Exeunt Polonius and Players [except the First]. + Dost thou hear me, old friend? Can you play 'The Murther of + Gonzago'? + 1. Play. Ay, my lord. + Ham. We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need, study a + speech of some dozen or sixteen lines which I would set down and + insert in't, could you not? + 1. Play. Ay, my lord. + Ham. Very well. Follow that lord- and look you mock him not. + [Exit First Player.] + My good friends, I'll leave you till night. You are welcome to + Elsinore. + Ros. Good my lord! + Ham. Ay, so, God b' wi' ye! + [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern + Now I am alone. + O what a rogue and peasant slave am I! + Is it not monstrous that this player here, + But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, + Could force his soul so to his own conceit + That, from her working, all his visage wann'd, + Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, + A broken voice, and his whole function suiting + With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing! + For Hecuba! + What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, + That he should weep for her? What would he do, + Had he the motive and the cue for passion + That I have? He would drown the stage with tears + And cleave the general ear with horrid speech; + Make mad the guilty and appal the free, + Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed + The very faculties of eyes and ears. + Yet I, + A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak + Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, + And can say nothing! No, not for a king, + Upon whose property and most dear life + A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward? + Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? + Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face? + Tweaks me by th' nose? gives me the lie i' th' throat + As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this, ha? + 'Swounds, I should take it! for it cannot be + But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall + To make oppression bitter, or ere this + I should have fatted all the region kites + With this slave's offal. Bloody bawdy villain! + Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain! + O, vengeance! + Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave, + That I, the son of a dear father murther'd, + Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, + Must (like a whore) unpack my heart with words + And fall a-cursing like a very drab, + A scullion! + Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! Hum, I have heard + That guilty creatures, sitting at a play, + Have by the very cunning of the scene + Been struck so to the soul that presently + They have proclaim'd their malefactions; + For murther, though it have no tongue, will speak + With most miraculous organ, I'll have these Players + Play something like the murther of my father + Before mine uncle. I'll observe his looks; + I'll tent him to the quick. If he but blench, + I know my course. The spirit that I have seen + May be a devil; and the devil hath power + T' assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps + Out of my weakness and my melancholy, + As he is very potent with such spirits, + Abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds + More relative than this. The play's the thing + Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King. Exit. + + + + + +ACT III. Scene I. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Lords. + + King. And can you by no drift of circumstance + Get from him why he puts on this confusion, + Grating so harshly all his days of quiet + With turbulent and dangerous lunacy? + Ros. He does confess he feels himself distracted, + But from what cause he will by no means speak. + Guil. Nor do we find him forward to be sounded, + But with a crafty madness keeps aloof + When we would bring him on to some confession + Of his true state. + Queen. Did he receive you well? + Ros. Most like a gentleman. + Guil. But with much forcing of his disposition. + Ros. Niggard of question, but of our demands + Most free in his reply. + Queen. Did you assay him + To any pastime? + Ros. Madam, it so fell out that certain players + We o'erraught on the way. Of these we told him, + And there did seem in him a kind of joy + To hear of it. They are here about the court, + And, as I think, they have already order + This night to play before him. + Pol. 'Tis most true; + And he beseech'd me to entreat your Majesties + To hear and see the matter. + King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me + To hear him so inclin'd. + Good gentlemen, give him a further edge + And drive his purpose on to these delights. + Ros. We shall, my lord. + Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too; + For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither, + That he, as 'twere by accident, may here + Affront Ophelia. + Her father and myself (lawful espials) + Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing unseen, + We may of their encounter frankly judge + And gather by him, as he is behav'd, + If't be th' affliction of his love, or no, + That thus he suffers for. + Queen. I shall obey you; + And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish + That your good beauties be the happy cause + Of Hamlet's wildness. So shall I hope your virtues + Will bring him to his wonted way again, + To both your honours. + Oph. Madam, I wish it may. + [Exit Queen.] + Pol. Ophelia, walk you here.- Gracious, so please you, + We will bestow ourselves.- [To Ophelia] Read on this book, + That show of such an exercise may colour + Your loneliness.- We are oft to blame in this, + 'Tis too much prov'd, that with devotion's visage + And pious action we do sugar o'er + The Devil himself. + King. [aside] O, 'tis too true! + How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience! + The harlot's cheek, beautied with plast'ring art, + Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it + Than is my deed to my most painted word. + O heavy burthen! + Pol. I hear him coming. Let's withdraw, my lord. + Exeunt King and Polonius]. + + Enter Hamlet. + + Ham. To be, or not to be- that is the question: + Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer + The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune + Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, + And by opposing end them. To die- to sleep- + No more; and by a sleep to say we end + The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks + That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation + Devoutly to be wish'd. To die- to sleep. + To sleep- perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub! + For in that sleep of death what dreams may come + When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, + Must give us pause. There's the respect + That makes calamity of so long life. + For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, + Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, + The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, + The insolence of office, and the spurns + That patient merit of th' unworthy takes, + When he himself might his quietus make + With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear, + To grunt and sweat under a weary life, + But that the dread of something after death- + The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn + No traveller returns- puzzles the will, + And makes us rather bear those ills we have + Than fly to others that we know not of? + Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, + And thus the native hue of resolution + Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, + And enterprises of great pith and moment + With this regard their currents turn awry + And lose the name of action.- Soft you now! + The fair Ophelia!- Nymph, in thy orisons + Be all my sins rememb'red. + Oph. Good my lord, + How does your honour for this many a day? + Ham. I humbly thank you; well, well, well. + Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours + That I have longed long to re-deliver. + I pray you, now receive them. + Ham. No, not I! + I never gave you aught. + Oph. My honour'd lord, you know right well you did, + And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd + As made the things more rich. Their perfume lost, + Take these again; for to the noble mind + Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. + There, my lord. + Ham. Ha, ha! Are you honest? + Oph. My lord? + Ham. Are you fair? + Oph. What means your lordship? + Ham. That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no + discourse to your beauty. + Oph. Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty? + Ham. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform + honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can + translate beauty into his likeness. This was sometime a paradox, + but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once. + Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so. + Ham. You should not have believ'd me; for virtue cannot so + inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it. I loved you + not. + Oph. I was the more deceived. + Ham. Get thee to a nunnery! Why wouldst thou be a breeder of + sinners? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse + me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me. + I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at my + beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give + them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I + do, crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves all; + believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your + father? + Oph. At home, my lord. + Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool + nowhere but in's own house. Farewell. + Oph. O, help him, you sweet heavens! + Ham. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: + be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape + calumny. Get thee to a nunnery. Go, farewell. Or if thou wilt + needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what + monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go; and quickly too. + Farewell. + Oph. O heavenly powers, restore him! + Ham. I have heard of your paintings too, well enough. God hath + given you one face, and you make yourselves another. You jig, you + amble, and you lisp; you nickname God's creatures and make your + wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't! it hath made + me mad. I say, we will have no moe marriages. Those that are + married already- all but one- shall live; the rest shall keep as + they are. To a nunnery, go. Exit. + Oph. O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! + The courtier's, scholar's, soldier's, eye, tongue, sword, + Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state, + The glass of fashion and the mould of form, + Th' observ'd of all observers- quite, quite down! + And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, + That suck'd the honey of his music vows, + Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, + Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; + That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth + Blasted with ecstasy. O, woe is me + T' have seen what I have seen, see what I see! + + Enter King and Polonius. + + King. Love? his affections do not that way tend; + Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little, + Was not like madness. There's something in his soul + O'er which his melancholy sits on brood; + And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose + Will be some danger; which for to prevent, + I have in quick determination + Thus set it down: he shall with speed to England + For the demand of our neglected tribute. + Haply the seas, and countries different, + With variable objects, shall expel + This something-settled matter in his heart, + Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus + From fashion of himself. What think you on't? + Pol. It shall do well. But yet do I believe + The origin and commencement of his grief + Sprung from neglected love.- How now, Ophelia? + You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said. + We heard it all.- My lord, do as you please; + But if you hold it fit, after the play + Let his queen mother all alone entreat him + To show his grief. Let her be round with him; + And I'll be plac'd so please you, in the ear + Of all their conference. If she find him not, + To England send him; or confine him where + Your wisdom best shall think. + King. It shall be so. + Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Elsinore. hall in the Castle. + +Enter Hamlet and three of the Players. + + Ham. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, + trippingly on the tongue. But if you mouth it, as many of our + players do, I had as live the town crier spoke my lines. Nor do + not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all + gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) + whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a + temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the + soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to + tatters, to very rags, to split the cars of the groundlings, who + (for the most part) are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb + shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipp'd for o'erdoing + Termagant. It out-herods Herod. Pray you avoid it. + Player. I warrant your honour. + Ham. Be not too tame neither; but let your own discretion be your + tutor. Suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with + this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of + nature: for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, + whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as + 'twere, the mirror up to nature; to show Virtue her own feature, + scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his + form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy off, though + it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious + grieve; the censure of the which one must in your allowance + o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players that I + have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly (not to + speak it profanely), that, neither having the accent of + Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so + strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of Nature's + journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated + humanity so abominably. + Player. I hope we have reform'd that indifferently with us, sir. + Ham. O, reform it altogether! And let those that play your clowns + speak no more than is set down for them. For there be of them + that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren + spectators to laugh too, though in the mean time some necessary + question of the play be then to be considered. That's villanous + and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go + make you ready. + Exeunt Players. + + Enter Polonius, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern. + + How now, my lord? Will the King hear this piece of work? + Pol. And the Queen too, and that presently. + Ham. Bid the players make haste, [Exit Polonius.] Will you two + help to hasten them? + Both. We will, my lord. Exeunt they two. + Ham. What, ho, Horatio! + + Enter Horatio. + + Hor. Here, sweet lord, at your service. + Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man + As e'er my conversation cop'd withal. + Hor. O, my dear lord! + Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter; + For what advancement may I hope from thee, + That no revenue hast but thy good spirits + To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd? + No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, + And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee + Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? + Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice + And could of men distinguish, her election + Hath scald thee for herself. For thou hast been + As one, in suff'ring all, that suffers nothing; + A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards + Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and blest are those + Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled + That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger + To sound what stop she please. Give me that man + That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him + In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, + As I do thee. Something too much of this I + There is a play to-night before the King. + One scene of it comes near the circumstance, + Which I have told thee, of my father's death. + I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot, + Even with the very comment of thy soul + Observe my uncle. If his occulted guilt + Do not itself unkennel in one speech, + It is a damned ghost that we have seen, + And my imaginations are as foul + As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note; + For I mine eyes will rivet to his face, + And after we will both our judgments join + In censure of his seeming. + Hor. Well, my lord. + If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing, + And scape detecting, I will pay the theft. + + Sound a flourish. [Enter Trumpets and Kettledrums. Danish + march. [Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, + Guildenstern, and other Lords attendant, with the Guard + carrying torches. + + Ham. They are coming to the play. I must be idle. + Get you a place. + King. How fares our cousin Hamlet? + Ham. Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish. I eat the air, + promise-cramm'd. You cannot feed capons so. + King. I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet. These words are not + mine. + Ham. No, nor mine now. [To Polonius] My lord, you play'd once + i' th' university, you say? + Pol. That did I, my lord, and was accounted a good actor. + Ham. What did you enact? + Pol. I did enact Julius Caesar; I was kill'd i' th' Capitol; Brutus + kill'd me. + Ham. It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there. Be + the players ready. + Ros. Ay, my lord. They stay upon your patience. + Queen. Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me. + Ham. No, good mother. Here's metal more attractive. + Pol. [to the King] O, ho! do you mark that? + Ham. Lady, shall I lie in your lap? + [Sits down at Ophelia's feet.] + Oph. No, my lord. + Ham. I mean, my head upon your lap? + Oph. Ay, my lord. + Ham. Do you think I meant country matters? + Oph. I think nothing, my lord. + Ham. That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs. + Oph. What is, my lord? + Ham. Nothing. + Oph. You are merry, my lord. + Ham. Who, I? + Oph. Ay, my lord. + Ham. O God, your only jig-maker! What should a man do but be merry? + For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died + within 's two hours. + Oph. Nay 'tis twice two months, my lord. + Ham. So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have a + suit of sables. O heavens! die two months ago, and not forgotten + yet? Then there's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life + half a year. But, by'r Lady, he must build churches then; or else + shall he suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whose + epitaph is 'For O, for O, the hobby-horse is forgot!' + + Hautboys play. The dumb show enters. + + Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen embracing + him and he her. She kneels, and makes show of protestation + unto him. He takes her up, and declines his head upon her + neck. He lays him down upon a bank of flowers. She, seeing + him asleep, leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his + crown, kisses it, pours poison in the sleeper's ears, and + leaves him. The Queen returns, finds the King dead, and makes + passionate action. The Poisoner with some three or four Mutes, + comes in again, seem to condole with her. The dead body is + carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with gifts; she + seems harsh and unwilling awhile, but in the end accepts + his love. + Exeunt. + + Oph. What means this, my lord? + Ham. Marry, this is miching malhecho; it means mischief. + Oph. Belike this show imports the argument of the play. + + Enter Prologue. + + Ham. We shall know by this fellow. The players cannot keep counsel; + they'll tell all. + Oph. Will he tell us what this show meant? + Ham. Ay, or any show that you'll show him. Be not you asham'd to + show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means. + Oph. You are naught, you are naught! I'll mark the play. + + Pro. For us, and for our tragedy, + Here stooping to your clemency, + We beg your hearing patiently. [Exit.] + + Ham. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? + Oph. 'Tis brief, my lord. + Ham. As woman's love. + + Enter [two Players as] King and Queen. + + King. Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round + Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground, + And thirty dozed moons with borrowed sheen + About the world have times twelve thirties been, + Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands, + Unite comutual in most sacred bands. + Queen. So many journeys may the sun and moon + Make us again count o'er ere love be done! + But woe is me! you are so sick of late, + So far from cheer and from your former state. + That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust, + Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must; + For women's fear and love holds quantity, + In neither aught, or in extremity. + Now what my love is, proof hath made you know; + And as my love is siz'd, my fear is so. + Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; + Where little fears grow great, great love grows there. + King. Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too; + My operant powers their functions leave to do. + And thou shalt live in this fair world behind, + Honour'd, belov'd, and haply one as kind + For husband shalt thou- + Queen. O, confound the rest! + Such love must needs be treason in my breast. + When second husband let me be accurst! + None wed the second but who killed the first. + + Ham. [aside] Wormwood, wormwood! + + Queen. The instances that second marriage move + Are base respects of thrift, but none of love. + A second time I kill my husband dead + When second husband kisses me in bed. + King. I do believe you think what now you speak; + But what we do determine oft we break. + Purpose is but the slave to memory, + Of violent birth, but poor validity; + Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree, + But fill unshaken when they mellow be. + Most necessary 'tis that we forget + To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt. + What to ourselves in passion we propose, + The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. + The violence of either grief or joy + Their own enactures with themselves destroy. + Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament; + Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident. + This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange + That even our loves should with our fortunes change; + For 'tis a question left us yet to prove, + Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love. + The great man down, you mark his favourite flies, + The poor advanc'd makes friends of enemies; + And hitherto doth love on fortune tend, + For who not needs shall never lack a friend, + And who in want a hollow friend doth try, + Directly seasons him his enemy. + But, orderly to end where I begun, + Our wills and fates do so contrary run + That our devices still are overthrown; + Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own. + So think thou wilt no second husband wed; + But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead. + Queen. Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light, + Sport and repose lock from me day and night, + To desperation turn my trust and hope, + An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope, + Each opposite that blanks the face of joy + Meet what I would have well, and it destroy, + Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife, + If, once a widow, ever I be wife! + + Ham. If she should break it now! + + King. 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile. + My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile + The tedious day with sleep. + Queen. Sleep rock thy brain, + [He] sleeps. + And never come mischance between us twain! +Exit. + + Ham. Madam, how like you this play? + Queen. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. + Ham. O, but she'll keep her word. + King. Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in't? + Ham. No, no! They do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i' th' + world. + King. What do you call the play? + Ham. 'The Mousetrap.' Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the + image of a murther done in Vienna. Gonzago is the duke's name; + his wife, Baptista. You shall see anon. 'Tis a knavish piece of + work; but what o' that? Your Majesty, and we that have free + souls, it touches us not. Let the gall'd jade winch; our withers + are unwrung. + + Enter Lucianus. + + This is one Lucianus, nephew to the King. + Oph. You are as good as a chorus, my lord. + Ham. I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see + the puppets dallying. + Oph. You are keen, my lord, you are keen. + Ham. It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge. + Oph. Still better, and worse. + Ham. So you must take your husbands.- Begin, murtherer. Pox, leave + thy damnable faces, and begin! Come, the croaking raven doth + bellow for revenge. + + Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing; + Confederate season, else no creature seeing; + Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected, + With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected, + Thy natural magic and dire property + On wholesome life usurp immediately. + Pours the poison in his ears. + + Ham. He poisons him i' th' garden for's estate. His name's Gonzago. + The story is extant, and written in very choice Italian. You + shall see anon how the murtherer gets the love of Gonzago's wife. + Oph. The King rises. + Ham. What, frighted with false fire? + Queen. How fares my lord? + Pol. Give o'er the play. + King. Give me some light! Away! + All. Lights, lights, lights! + Exeunt all but Hamlet and Horatio. + Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep, + The hart ungalled play; + For some must watch, while some must sleep: + Thus runs the world away. + Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers- if the rest of my + fortunes turn Turk with me-with two Provincial roses on my raz'd + shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir? + Hor. Half a share. + Ham. A whole one I! + For thou dost know, O Damon dear, + This realm dismantled was + Of Jove himself; and now reigns here + A very, very- pajock. + Hor. You might have rhym'd. + Ham. O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand + pound! Didst perceive? + Hor. Very well, my lord. + Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning? + Hor. I did very well note him. + Ham. Aha! Come, some music! Come, the recorders! + For if the King like not the comedy, + Why then, belike he likes it not, perdy. + Come, some music! + + Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you. + Ham. Sir, a whole history. + Guil. The King, sir- + Ham. Ay, sir, what of him? + Guil. Is in his retirement, marvellous distemper'd. + Ham. With drink, sir? + Guil. No, my lord; rather with choler. + Ham. Your wisdom should show itself more richer to signify this to + the doctor; for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps + plunge him into far more choler. + Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and start + not so wildly from my affair. + Ham. I am tame, sir; pronounce. + Guil. The Queen, your mother, in most great affliction of spirit + hath sent me to you. + Ham. You are welcome. + Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed. + If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do + your mother's commandment; if not, your pardon and my return + shall be the end of my business. + Ham. Sir, I cannot. + Guil. What, my lord? + Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseas'd. But, sir, such + answer is I can make, you shall command; or rather, as you say, + my mother. Therefore no more, but to the matter! My mother, you + say- + Ros. Then thus she says: your behaviour hath struck her into + amazement and admiration. + Ham. O wonderful son, that can so stonish a mother! But is there no + sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? Impart. + Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet ere you go to bed. + Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any + further trade with us? + Ros. My lord, you once did love me. + Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers! + Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do surely + bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to + your friend. + Ham. Sir, I lack advancement. + Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice of the King himself + for your succession in Denmark? + Ham. Ay, sir, but 'while the grass grows'- the proverb is something + musty. + + Enter the Players with recorders. + + O, the recorders! Let me see one. To withdraw with you- why do + you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me + into a toil? + Guil. O my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly. + Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe? + Guil. My lord, I cannot. + Ham. I pray you. + Guil. Believe me, I cannot. + Ham. I do beseech you. + Guil. I know, no touch of it, my lord. + Ham. It is as easy as lying. Govern these ventages with your + fingers and thumbs, give it breath with your mouth, and it will + discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops. + Guil. But these cannot I command to any utt'rance of harmony. I + have not the skill. + Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You + would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would + pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my + lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, + excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it + speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be play'd on than a + pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, + you cannot play upon me. + + Enter Polonius. + + God bless you, sir! + Pol. My lord, the Queen would speak with you, and presently. + Ham. Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel? + Pol. By th' mass, and 'tis like a camel indeed. + Ham. Methinks it is like a weasel. + Pol. It is back'd like a weasel. + Ham. Or like a whale. + Pol. Very like a whale. + Ham. Then will I come to my mother by-and-by.- They fool me to the + top of my bent.- I will come by-and-by. + Pol. I will say so. Exit. + Ham. 'By-and-by' is easily said.- Leave me, friends. + [Exeunt all but Hamlet.] + 'Tis now the very witching time of night, + When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out + Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood + And do such bitter business as the day + Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother! + O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever + The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom. + Let me be cruel, not unnatural; + I will speak daggers to her, but use none. + My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites- + How in my words somever she be shent, + To give them seals never, my soul, consent! Exit. + + + + +Scene III. +A room in the Castle. + +Enter King, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern. + + King. I like him not, nor stands it safe with us + To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you; + I your commission will forthwith dispatch, + And he to England shall along with you. + The terms of our estate may not endure + Hazard so near us as doth hourly grow + Out of his lunacies. + Guil. We will ourselves provide. + Most holy and religious fear it is + To keep those many many bodies safe + That live and feed upon your Majesty. + Ros. The single and peculiar life is bound + With all the strength and armour of the mind + To keep itself from noyance; but much more + That spirit upon whose weal depends and rests + The lives of many. The cesse of majesty + Dies not alone, but like a gulf doth draw + What's near it with it. It is a massy wheel, + Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount, + To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things + Are mortis'd and adjoin'd; which when it falls, + Each small annexment, petty consequence, + Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone + Did the king sigh, but with a general groan. + King. Arm you, I pray you, to th', speedy voyage; + For we will fetters put upon this fear, + Which now goes too free-footed. + Both. We will haste us. + Exeunt Gentlemen. + + Enter Polonius. + + Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet. + Behind the arras I'll convey myself + To hear the process. I'll warrant she'll tax him home; + And, as you said, and wisely was it said, + 'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother, + Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear + The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege. + I'll call upon you ere you go to bed + And tell you what I know. + King. Thanks, dear my lord. + Exit [Polonius]. + O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven; + It hath the primal eldest curse upon't, + A brother's murther! Pray can I not, + Though inclination be as sharp as will. + My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent, + And, like a man to double business bound, + I stand in pause where I shall first begin, + And both neglect. What if this cursed hand + Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, + Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens + To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy + But to confront the visage of offence? + And what's in prayer but this twofold force, + To be forestalled ere we come to fall, + Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up; + My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer + Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murther'? + That cannot be; since I am still possess'd + Of those effects for which I did the murther- + My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. + May one be pardon'd and retain th' offence? + In the corrupted currents of this world + Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, + And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself + Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above. + There is no shuffling; there the action lies + In his true nature, and we ourselves compell'd, + Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, + To give in evidence. What then? What rests? + Try what repentance can. What can it not? + Yet what can it when one cannot repent? + O wretched state! O bosom black as death! + O limed soul, that, struggling to be free, + Art more engag'd! Help, angels! Make assay. + Bow, stubborn knees; and heart with strings of steel, + Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe! + All may be well. He kneels. + + Enter Hamlet. + + Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying; + And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven, + And so am I reveng'd. That would be scann'd. + A villain kills my father; and for that, + I, his sole son, do this same villain send + To heaven. + Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge! + He took my father grossly, full of bread, + With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May; + And how his audit stands, who knows save heaven? + But in our circumstance and course of thought, + 'Tis heavy with him; and am I then reveng'd, + To take him in the purging of his soul, + When he is fit and seasoned for his passage? + No. + Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid hent. + When he is drunk asleep; or in his rage; + Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his bed; + At gaming, swearing, or about some act + That has no relish of salvation in't- + Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven, + And that his soul may be as damn'd and black + As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays. + This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. Exit. + King. [rises] My words fly up, my thoughts remain below. + Words without thoughts never to heaven go. Exit. + + + + +Scene IV. +The Queen's closet. + +Enter Queen and Polonius. + + Pol. He will come straight. Look you lay home to him. + Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with, + And that your Grace hath screen'd and stood between + Much heat and him. I'll silence me even here. + Pray you be round with him. + Ham. (within) Mother, mother, mother! + Queen. I'll warrant you; fear me not. Withdraw; I hear him coming. + [Polonius hides behind the arras.] + + Enter Hamlet. + + Ham. Now, mother, what's the matter? + Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended. + Ham. Mother, you have my father much offended. + Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue. + Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue. + Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet? + Ham. What's the matter now? + Queen. Have you forgot me? + Ham. No, by the rood, not so! + You are the Queen, your husband's brother's wife, + And (would it were not so!) you are my mother. + Queen. Nay, then I'll set those to you that can speak. + Ham. Come, come, and sit you down. You shall not budge I + You go not till I set you up a glass + Where you may see the inmost part of you. + Queen. What wilt thou do? Thou wilt not murther me? + Help, help, ho! + Pol. [behind] What, ho! help, help, help! + Ham. [draws] How now? a rat? Dead for a ducat, dead! + [Makes a pass through the arras and] kills Polonius. + Pol. [behind] O, I am slain! + Queen. O me, what hast thou done? + Ham. Nay, I know not. Is it the King? + Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is this! + Ham. A bloody deed- almost as bad, good mother, + As kill a king, and marry with his brother. + Queen. As kill a king? + Ham. Ay, lady, it was my word. + [Lifts up the arras and sees Polonius.] + Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell! + I took thee for thy better. Take thy fortune. + Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger. + Leave wringing of your hinds. Peace! sit you down + And let me wring your heart; for so I shall + If it be made of penetrable stuff; + If damned custom have not braz'd it so + That it is proof and bulwark against sense. + Queen. What have I done that thou dar'st wag thy tongue + In noise so rude against me? + Ham. Such an act + That blurs the grace and blush of modesty; + Calls virtue hypocrite; takes off the rose + From the fair forehead of an innocent love, + And sets a blister there; makes marriage vows + As false as dicers' oaths. O, such a deed + As from the body of contraction plucks + The very soul, and sweet religion makes + A rhapsody of words! Heaven's face doth glow; + Yea, this solidity and compound mass, + With tristful visage, as against the doom, + Is thought-sick at the act. + Queen. Ay me, what act, + That roars so loud and thunders in the index? + Ham. Look here upon th's picture, and on this, + The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. + See what a grace was seated on this brow; + Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; + An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; + A station like the herald Mercury + New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill: + A combination and a form indeed + Where every god did seem to set his seal + To give the world assurance of a man. + This was your husband. Look you now what follows. + Here is your husband, like a mildew'd ear + Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? + Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, + And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes + You cannot call it love; for at your age + The heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble, + And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment + Would step from this to this? Sense sure you have, + Else could you not have motion; but sure that sense + Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err, + Nor sense to ecstacy was ne'er so thrall'd + But it reserv'd some quantity of choice + To serve in such a difference. What devil was't + That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind? + Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, + Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all, + Or but a sickly part of one true sense + Could not so mope. + O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, + If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones, + To flaming youth let virtue be as wax + And melt in her own fire. Proclaim no shame + When the compulsive ardour gives the charge, + Since frost itself as actively doth burn, + And reason panders will. + Queen. O Hamlet, speak no more! + Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul, + And there I see such black and grained spots + As will not leave their tinct. + Ham. Nay, but to live + In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed, + Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love + Over the nasty sty! + Queen. O, speak to me no more! + These words like daggers enter in mine ears. + No more, sweet Hamlet! + Ham. A murtherer and a villain! + A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe + Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings; + A cutpurse of the empire and the rule, + That from a shelf the precious diadem stole + And put it in his pocket! + Queen. No more! + + Enter the Ghost in his nightgown. + + Ham. A king of shreds and patches!- + Save me and hover o'er me with your wings, + You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure? + Queen. Alas, he's mad! + Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide, + That, laps'd in time and passion, lets go by + Th' important acting of your dread command? + O, say! + Ghost. Do not forget. This visitation + Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. + But look, amazement on thy mother sits. + O, step between her and her fighting soul + Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works. + Speak to her, Hamlet. + Ham. How is it with you, lady? + Queen. Alas, how is't with you, + That you do bend your eye on vacancy, + And with th' encorporal air do hold discourse? + Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep; + And, as the sleeping soldiers in th' alarm, + Your bedded hairs, like life in excrements, + Start up and stand an end. O gentle son, + Upon the beat and flame of thy distemper + Sprinkle cool patience! Whereon do you look? + Ham. On him, on him! Look you how pale he glares! + His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones, + Would make them capable.- Do not look upon me, + Lest with this piteous action you convert + My stern effects. Then what I have to do + Will want true colour- tears perchance for blood. + Queen. To whom do you speak this? + Ham. Do you see nothing there? + Queen. Nothing at all; yet all that is I see. + Ham. Nor did you nothing hear? + Queen. No, nothing but ourselves. + Ham. Why, look you there! Look how it steals away! + My father, in his habit as he liv'd! + Look where he goes even now out at the portal! + Exit Ghost. + Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain. + This bodiless creation ecstasy + Is very cunning in. + Ham. Ecstasy? + My pulse as yours doth temperately keep time + And makes as healthful music. It is not madness + That I have utt'red. Bring me to the test, + And I the matter will reword; which madness + Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, + Lay not that flattering unction to your soul + That not your trespass but my madness speaks. + It will but skin and film the ulcerous place, + Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, + Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven; + Repent what's past; avoid what is to come; + And do not spread the compost on the weeds + To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue; + For in the fatness of these pursy times + Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg- + Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good. + Queen. O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain. + Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it, + And live the purer with the other half, + Good night- but go not to my uncle's bed. + Assume a virtue, if you have it not. + That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat + Of habits evil, is angel yet in this, + That to the use of actions fair and good + He likewise gives a frock or livery, + That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night, + And that shall lend a kind of easiness + To the next abstinence; the next more easy; + For use almost can change the stamp of nature, + And either [master] the devil, or throw him out + With wondrous potency. Once more, good night; + And when you are desirous to be blest, + I'll blessing beg of you.- For this same lord, + I do repent; but heaven hath pleas'd it so, + To punish me with this, and this with me, + That I must be their scourge and minister. + I will bestow him, and will answer well + The death I gave him. So again, good night. + I must be cruel, only to be kind; + Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind. + One word more, good lady. + Queen. What shall I do? + Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do: + Let the bloat King tempt you again to bed; + Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse; + And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses, + Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers, + Make you to ravel all this matter out, + That I essentially am not in madness, + But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know; + For who that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise, + Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib + Such dear concernings hide? Who would do so? + No, in despite of sense and secrecy, + Unpeg the basket on the house's top, + Let the birds fly, and like the famous ape, + To try conclusions, in the basket creep + And break your own neck down. + Queen. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath, + And breath of life, I have no life to breathe + What thou hast said to me. + Ham. I must to England; you know that? + Queen. Alack, + I had forgot! 'Tis so concluded on. + Ham. There's letters seal'd; and my two schoolfellows, + Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd, + They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way + And marshal me to knavery. Let it work; + For 'tis the sport to have the enginer + Hoist with his own petar; and 't shall go hard + But I will delve one yard below their mines + And blow them at the moon. O, 'tis most sweet + When in one line two crafts directly meet. + This man shall set me packing. + I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room.- + Mother, good night.- Indeed, this counsellor + Is now most still, most secret, and most grave, + Who was in life a foolish peating knave. + Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you. + Good night, mother. + [Exit the Queen. Then] Exit Hamlet, tugging in + Polonius. + + + + + +ACT IV. Scene I. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Enter King and Queen, with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + King. There's matter in these sighs. These profound heaves + You must translate; 'tis fit we understand them. + Where is your son? + Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while. + [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.] + Ah, mine own lord, what have I seen to-night! + King. What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet? + Queen. Mad as the sea and wind when both contend + Which is the mightier. In his lawless fit + Behind the arras hearing something stir, + Whips out his rapier, cries 'A rat, a rat!' + And in this brainish apprehension kills + The unseen good old man. + King. O heavy deed! + It had been so with us, had we been there. + His liberty is full of threats to all- + To you yourself, to us, to every one. + Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd? + It will be laid to us, whose providence + Should have kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt + This mad young man. But so much was our love + We would not understand what was most fit, + But, like the owner of a foul disease, + To keep it from divulging, let it feed + Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone? + Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd; + O'er whom his very madness, like some ore + Among a mineral of metals base, + Shows itself pure. He weeps for what is done. + King. O Gertrude, come away! + The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch + But we will ship him hence; and this vile deed + We must with all our majesty and skill + Both countenance and excuse. Ho, Guildenstern! + + Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + Friends both, go join you with some further aid. + Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, + And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him. + Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body + Into the chapel. I pray you haste in this. + Exeunt [Rosencrantz and Guildenstern]. + Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends + And let them know both what we mean to do + And what's untimely done. [So haply slander-] + Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter, + As level as the cannon to his blank, + Transports his poisoned shot- may miss our name + And hit the woundless air.- O, come away! + My soul is full of discord and dismay. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Elsinore. A passage in the Castle. + +Enter Hamlet. + + Ham. Safely stow'd. + Gentlemen. (within) Hamlet! Lord Hamlet! + Ham. But soft! What noise? Who calls on Hamlet? O, here they come. + + Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + Ros. What have you done, my lord, with the dead body? + Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin. + Ros. Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence + And bear it to the chapel. + Ham. Do not believe it. + Ros. Believe what? + Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not mine own. Besides, to be + demanded of a sponge, what replication should be made by the son + of a king? + Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord? + Ham. Ay, sir; that soaks up the King's countenance, his rewards, + his authorities. But such officers do the King best service in + the end. He keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw; + first mouth'd, to be last Swallowed. When he needs what you have + glean'd, it is but squeezing you and, sponge, you shall be dry + again. + Ros. I understand you not, my lord. + Ham. I am glad of it. A knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear. + Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the body is and go with us to + the King. + Ham. The body is with the King, but the King is not with the body. + The King is a thing- + Guil. A thing, my lord? + Ham. Of nothing. Bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene III. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Enter King. + + King. I have sent to seek him and to find the body. + How dangerous is it that this man goes loose! + Yet must not we put the strong law on him. + He's lov'd of the distracted multitude, + Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes; + And where 'tis so, th' offender's scourge is weigh'd, + But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even, + This sudden sending him away must seem + Deliberate pause. Diseases desperate grown + By desperate appliance are reliev'd, + Or not at all. + + Enter Rosencrantz. + + How now O What hath befall'n? + Ros. Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord, + We cannot get from him. + King. But where is he? + Ros. Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure. + King. Bring him before us. + Ros. Ho, Guildenstern! Bring in my lord. + + Enter Hamlet and Guildenstern [with Attendants]. + + King. Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius? + Ham. At supper. + King. At supper? Where? + Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten. A certain + convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your + only emperor for diet. We fat all creatures else to fat us, and + we fat ourselves for maggots. Your fat king and your lean beggar + is but variable service- two dishes, but to one table. That's the + end. + King. Alas, alas! + Ham. A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat + of the fish that hath fed of that worm. + King. What dost thou mean by this? + Ham. Nothing but to show you how a king may go a progress through + the guts of a beggar. + King. Where is Polonius? + Ham. In heaven. Send thither to see. If your messenger find him not + there, seek him i' th' other place yourself. But indeed, if you + find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up + the stair, into the lobby. + King. Go seek him there. [To Attendants.] + Ham. He will stay till you come. + [Exeunt Attendants.] + King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,- + Which we do tender as we dearly grieve + For that which thou hast done,- must send thee hence + With fiery quickness. Therefore prepare thyself. + The bark is ready and the wind at help, + Th' associates tend, and everything is bent + For England. + Ham. For England? + King. Ay, Hamlet. + Ham. Good. + King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes. + Ham. I see a cherub that sees them. But come, for England! + Farewell, dear mother. + King. Thy loving father, Hamlet. + Ham. My mother! Father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is + one flesh; and so, my mother. Come, for England! +Exit. + King. Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard. + Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night. + Away! for everything is seal'd and done + That else leans on th' affair. Pray you make haste. + Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern] + And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught,- + As my great power thereof may give thee sense, + Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red + After the Danish sword, and thy free awe + Pays homage to us,- thou mayst not coldly set + Our sovereign process, which imports at full, + By letters congruing to that effect, + The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England; + For like the hectic in my blood he rages, + And thou must cure me. Till I know 'tis done, + Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun. Exit. + + + + + +Scene IV. +Near Elsinore. + +Enter Fortinbras with his Army over the stage. + + For. Go, Captain, from me greet the Danish king. + Tell him that by his license Fortinbras + Craves the conveyance of a promis'd march + Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous. + if that his Majesty would aught with us, + We shall express our duty in his eye; + And let him know so. + Capt. I will do't, my lord. + For. Go softly on. + Exeunt [all but the Captain]. + + Enter Hamlet, Rosencrantz, [Guildenstern,] and others. + + Ham. Good sir, whose powers are these? + Capt. They are of Norway, sir. + Ham. How purpos'd, sir, I pray you? + Capt. Against some part of Poland. + Ham. Who commands them, sir? + Capt. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras. + Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, sir, + Or for some frontier? + Capt. Truly to speak, and with no addition, + We go to gain a little patch of ground + That hath in it no profit but the name. + To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it; + Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole + A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee. + Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it. + Capt. Yes, it is already garrison'd. + Ham. Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats + Will not debate the question of this straw. + This is th' imposthume of much wealth and peace, + That inward breaks, and shows no cause without + Why the man dies.- I humbly thank you, sir. + Capt. God b' wi' you, sir. [Exit.] + Ros. Will't please you go, my lord? + Ham. I'll be with you straight. Go a little before. + [Exeunt all but Hamlet.] + How all occasions do inform against me + And spur my dull revenge! What is a man, + If his chief good and market of his time + Be but to sleep and feed? A beast, no more. + Sure he that made us with such large discourse, + Looking before and after, gave us not + That capability and godlike reason + To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be + Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple + Of thinking too precisely on th' event,- + A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom + And ever three parts coward,- I do not know + Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do,' + Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means + To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me. + Witness this army of such mass and charge, + Led by a delicate and tender prince, + Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd, + Makes mouths at the invisible event, + Exposing what is mortal and unsure + To all that fortune, death, and danger dare, + Even for an eggshell. Rightly to be great + Is not to stir without great argument, + But greatly to find quarrel in a straw + When honour's at the stake. How stand I then, + That have a father klll'd, a mother stain'd, + Excitements of my reason and my blood, + And let all sleep, while to my shame I see + The imminent death of twenty thousand men + That for a fantasy and trick of fame + Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot + Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, + Which is not tomb enough and continent + To hide the slain? O, from this time forth, + My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! Exit. + + + + + +Scene V. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Enter Horatio, Queen, and a Gentleman. + + Queen. I will not speak with her. + Gent. She is importunate, indeed distract. + Her mood will needs be pitied. + Queen. What would she have? + Gent. She speaks much of her father; says she hears + There's tricks i' th' world, and hems, and beats her heart; + Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt, + That carry but half sense. Her speech is nothing, + Yet the unshaped use of it doth move + The hearers to collection; they aim at it, + And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; + Which, as her winks and nods and gestures yield them, + Indeed would make one think there might be thought, + Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily. + Hor. 'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew + Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds. + Queen. Let her come in. + [Exit Gentleman.] + [Aside] To my sick soul (as sin's true nature is) + Each toy seems Prologue to some great amiss. + So full of artless jealousy is guilt + It spills itself in fearing to be spilt. + + Enter Ophelia distracted. + + Oph. Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark? + Queen. How now, Ophelia? + Oph. (sings) + How should I your true-love know + From another one? + By his cockle bat and' staff + And his sandal shoon. + + Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song? + Oph. Say you? Nay, pray You mark. + + (Sings) He is dead and gone, lady, + He is dead and gone; + At his head a grass-green turf, + At his heels a stone. + + O, ho! + Queen. Nay, but Ophelia- + Oph. Pray you mark. + + (Sings) White his shroud as the mountain snow- + + Enter King. + + Queen. Alas, look here, my lord! + Oph. (Sings) + Larded all with sweet flowers; + Which bewept to the grave did not go + With true-love showers. + + King. How do you, pretty lady? + Oph. Well, God dild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter. + Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at + your table! + King. Conceit upon her father. + Oph. Pray let's have no words of this; but when they ask, you what + it means, say you this: + + (Sings) To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day, + All in the morning bedtime, + And I a maid at your window, + To be your Valentine. + + Then up he rose and donn'd his clo'es + And dupp'd the chamber door, + Let in the maid, that out a maid + Never departed more. + + King. Pretty Ophelia! + Oph. Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't! + + [Sings] By Gis and by Saint Charity, + Alack, and fie for shame! + Young men will do't if they come to't + By Cock, they are to blame. + + Quoth she, 'Before you tumbled me, + You promis'd me to wed.' + + He answers: + + 'So would I 'a' done, by yonder sun, + An thou hadst not come to my bed.' + + King. How long hath she been thus? + Oph. I hope all will be well. We must be patient; but I cannot + choose but weep to think they would lay him i' th' cold ground. + My brother shall know of it; and so I thank you for your good + counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies. Good night, sweet + ladies. Good night, good night. Exit + King. Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you. + [Exit Horatio.] + O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs + All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude, + When sorrows come, they come not single spies. + But in battalions! First, her father slain; + Next, Your son gone, and he most violent author + Of his own just remove; the people muddied, + Thick and and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers + For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly + In hugger-mugger to inter him; Poor Ophelia + Divided from herself and her fair-judgment, + Without the which we are Pictures or mere beasts; + Last, and as such containing as all these, + Her brother is in secret come from France; + And wants not buzzers to infect his ear + Feeds on his wonder, keep, himself in clouds, + With pestilent speeches of his father's death, + Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd, + Will nothing stick Our person to arraign + In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this, + Like to a murd'ring piece, in many places + Give, me superfluous death. A noise within. + Queen. Alack, what noise is this? + King. Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door. + + Enter a Messenger. + + What is the matter? + Mess. Save Yourself, my lord: + The ocean, overpeering of his list, + Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste + Than Young Laertes, in a riotous head, + O'erbears Your offices. The rabble call him lord; + And, as the world were now but to begin, + Antiquity forgot, custom not known, + The ratifiers and props of every word, + They cry 'Choose we! Laertes shall be king!' + Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds, + 'Laertes shall be king! Laertes king!' + A noise within. + Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! + O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs! + King. The doors are broke. + + Enter Laertes with others. + + Laer. Where is this king?- Sirs, staid you all without. + All. No, let's come in! + Laer. I pray you give me leave. + All. We will, we will! + Laer. I thank you. Keep the door. [Exeunt his Followers.] + O thou vile king, + Give me my father! + Queen. Calmly, good Laertes. + Laer. That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard; + Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot + Even here between the chaste unsmirched brows + Of my true mother. + King. What is the cause, Laertes, + That thy rebellion looks so giantlike? + Let him go, Gertrude. Do not fear our person. + There's such divinity doth hedge a king + That treason can but peep to what it would, + Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes, + Why thou art thus incens'd. Let him go, Gertrude. + Speak, man. + Laer. Where is my father? + King. Dead. + Queen. But not by him! + King. Let him demand his fill. + Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with: + To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil + Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit! + I dare damnation. To this point I stand, + That both the world, I give to negligence, + Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd + Most throughly for my father. + King. Who shall stay you? + Laer. My will, not all the world! + And for my means, I'll husband them so well + They shall go far with little. + King. Good Laertes, + If you desire to know the certainty + Of your dear father's death, is't writ in Your revenge + That swoopstake you will draw both friend and foe, + Winner and loser? + Laer. None but his enemies. + King. Will you know them then? + Laer. To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms + And, like the kind life-rend'ring pelican, + Repast them with my blood. + King. Why, now You speak + Like a good child and a true gentleman. + That I am guiltless of your father's death, + And am most sensibly in grief for it, + It shall as level to your judgment pierce + As day does to your eye. + A noise within: 'Let her come in.' + Laer. How now? What noise is that? + + Enter Ophelia. + + O heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt + Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye! + By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight + Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May! + Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia! + O heavens! is't possible a young maid's wits + Should be as mortal as an old man's life? + Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine, + It sends some precious instance of itself + After the thing it loves. + + Oph. (sings) + They bore him barefac'd on the bier + (Hey non nony, nony, hey nony) + And in his grave rain'd many a tear. + + Fare you well, my dove! + Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge, + It could not move thus. + Oph. You must sing 'A-down a-down, and you call him a-down-a.' O, + how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his + master's daughter. + Laer. This nothing's more than matter. + Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, + remember. And there is pansies, that's for thoughts. + Laer. A document in madness! Thoughts and remembrance fitted. + Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for you, + and here's some for me. We may call it herb of grace o' Sundays. + O, you must wear your rue with a difference! There's a daisy. I + would give you some violets, but they wither'd all when my father + died. They say he made a good end. + + [Sings] For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. + + Laer. Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself, + She turns to favour and to prettiness. + Oph. (sings) + And will he not come again? + And will he not come again? + No, no, he is dead; + Go to thy deathbed; + He never will come again. + + His beard was as white as snow, + All flaxen was his poll. + He is gone, he is gone, + And we cast away moan. + God 'a'mercy on his soul! + + And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God b' wi', you. +Exit. + Laer. Do you see this, O God? + King. Laertes, I must commune with your grief, + Or you deny me right. Go but apart, + Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will, + And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me. + If by direct or by collateral hand + They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give, + Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours, + To you in satisfaction; but if not, + Be you content to lend your patience to us, + And we shall jointly labour with your soul + To give it due content. + Laer. Let this be so. + His means of death, his obscure funeral- + No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones, + No noble rite nor formal ostentation,- + Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth, + That I must call't in question. + King. So you shall; + And where th' offence is let the great axe fall. + I pray you go with me. + Exeunt + + + + + +Scene VI. +Elsinore. Another room in the Castle. + +Enter Horatio with an Attendant. + + Hor. What are they that would speak with me? + Servant. Seafaring men, sir. They say they have letters for you. + Hor. Let them come in. + [Exit Attendant.] + I do not know from what part of the world + I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet. + + Enter Sailors. + + Sailor. God bless you, sir. + Hor. Let him bless thee too. + Sailor. 'A shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for you, + sir,- it comes from th' ambassador that was bound for England- if + your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is. + Hor. (reads the letter) 'Horatio, when thou shalt have overlook'd + this, give these fellows some means to the King. They have + letters for him. Ere we were two days old at sea, a pirate of + very warlike appointment gave us chase. Finding ourselves too + slow of sail, we put on a compelled valour, and in the grapple I + boarded them. On the instant they got clear of our ship; so I + alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with me like thieves + of mercy; but they knew what they did: I am to do a good turn for + them. Let the King have the letters I have sent, and repair thou + to me with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death. I have words + to speak in thine ear will make thee dumb; yet are they much too + light for the bore of the matter. These good fellows will bring + thee where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their course + for England. Of them I have much to tell thee. Farewell. + 'He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET.' + + Come, I will give you way for these your letters, + And do't the speedier that you may direct me + To him from whom you brought them. Exeunt. + + + + + +Scene VII. +Elsinore. Another room in the Castle. + +Enter King and Laertes. + + King. Now must your conscience my acquittance seal, + And You must put me in your heart for friend, + Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear, + That he which hath your noble father slain + Pursued my life. + Laer. It well appears. But tell me + Why you proceeded not against these feats + So crimeful and so capital in nature, + As by your safety, wisdom, all things else, + You mainly were stirr'd up. + King. O, for two special reasons, + Which may to you, perhaps, seein much unsinew'd, + But yet to me they are strong. The Queen his mother + Lives almost by his looks; and for myself,- + My virtue or my plague, be it either which,- + She's so conjunctive to my life and soul + That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, + I could not but by her. The other motive + Why to a public count I might not go + Is the great love the general gender bear him, + Who, dipping all his faults in their affection, + Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone, + Convert his gives to graces; so that my arrows, + Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind, + Would have reverted to my bow again, + And not where I had aim'd them. + Laer. And so have I a noble father lost; + A sister driven into desp'rate terms, + Whose worth, if praises may go back again, + Stood challenger on mount of all the age + For her perfections. But my revenge will come. + King. Break not your sleeps for that. You must not think + That we are made of stuff so flat and dull + That we can let our beard be shook with danger, + And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more. + I lov'd your father, and we love ourself, + And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine- + + Enter a Messenger with letters. + + How now? What news? + Mess. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: + This to your Majesty; this to the Queen. + King. From Hamlet? Who brought them? + Mess. Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not. + They were given me by Claudio; he receiv'd them + Of him that brought them. + King. Laertes, you shall hear them. + Leave us. + Exit Messenger. + [Reads]'High and Mighty,-You shall know I am set naked on your + kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes; + when I shall (first asking your pardon thereunto) recount the + occasion of my sudden and more strange return. + 'HAMLET.' + What should this mean? Are all the rest come back? + Or is it some abuse, and no such thing? + Laer. Know you the hand? + King. 'Tis Hamlet's character. 'Naked!' + And in a postscript here, he says 'alone.' + Can you advise me? + Laer. I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come! + It warms the very sickness in my heart + That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, + 'Thus didest thou.' + King. If it be so, Laertes + (As how should it be so? how otherwise?), + Will you be rul'd by me? + Laer. Ay my lord, + So you will not o'errule me to a peace. + King. To thine own peace. If he be now return'd + As checking at his voyage, and that he means + No more to undertake it, I will work him + To exploit now ripe in my device, + Under the which he shall not choose but fall; + And for his death no wind + But even his mother shall uncharge the practice + And call it accident. + Laer. My lord, I will be rul'd; + The rather, if you could devise it so + That I might be the organ. + King. It falls right. + You have been talk'd of since your travel much, + And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality + Wherein they say you shine, Your sun of parts + Did not together pluck such envy from him + As did that one; and that, in my regard, + Of the unworthiest siege. + Laer. What part is that, my lord? + King. A very riband in the cap of youth- + Yet needfull too; for youth no less becomes + The light and careless livery that it wears + Thin settled age his sables and his weeds, + Importing health and graveness. Two months since + Here was a gentleman of Normandy. + I have seen myself, and serv'd against, the French, + And they can well on horseback; but this gallant + Had witchcraft in't. He grew unto his seat, + And to such wondrous doing brought his horse + As had he been incorps'd and demi-natur'd + With the brave beast. So far he topp'd my thought + That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks, + Come short of what he did. + Laer. A Norman was't? + King. A Norman. + Laer. Upon my life, Lamound. + King. The very same. + Laer. I know him well. He is the broach indeed + And gem of all the nation. + King. He made confession of you; + And gave you such a masterly report + For art and exercise in your defence, + And for your rapier most especially, + That he cried out 'twould be a sight indeed + If one could match you. The scrimers of their nation + He swore had neither motion, guard, nor eye, + If you oppos'd them. Sir, this report of his + Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy + That he could nothing do but wish and beg + Your sudden coming o'er to play with you. + Now, out of this- + Laer. What out of this, my lord? + King. Laertes, was your father dear to you? + Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, + A face without a heart,' + Laer. Why ask you this? + King. Not that I think you did not love your father; + But that I know love is begun by time, + And that I see, in passages of proof, + Time qualifies the spark and fire of it. + There lives within the very flame of love + A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it; + And nothing is at a like goodness still; + For goodness, growing to a plurisy, + Dies in his own too-much. That we would do, + We should do when we would; for this 'would' changes, + And hath abatements and delays as many + As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; + And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh, + That hurts by easing. But to the quick o' th' ulcer! + Hamlet comes back. What would you undertake + To show yourself your father's son in deed + More than in words? + Laer. To cut his throat i' th' church! + King. No place indeed should murther sanctuarize; + Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes, + Will you do this? Keep close within your chamber. + Will return'd shall know you are come home. + We'll put on those shall praise your excellence + And set a double varnish on the fame + The Frenchman gave you; bring you in fine together + And wager on your heads. He, being remiss, + Most generous, and free from all contriving, + Will not peruse the foils; so that with ease, + Or with a little shuffling, you may choose + A sword unbated, and, in a pass of practice, + Requite him for your father. + Laer. I will do't! + And for that purpose I'll anoint my sword. + I bought an unction of a mountebank, + So mortal that, but dip a knife in it, + Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare, + Collected from all simples that have virtue + Under the moon, can save the thing from death + This is but scratch'd withal. I'll touch my point + With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly, + It may be death. + King. Let's further think of this, + Weigh what convenience both of time and means + May fit us to our shape. If this should fall, + And that our drift look through our bad performance. + 'Twere better not assay'd. Therefore this project + Should have a back or second, that might hold + If this did blast in proof. Soft! let me see. + We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings- + I ha't! + When in your motion you are hot and dry- + As make your bouts more violent to that end- + And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepar'd him + A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping, + If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck, + Our purpose may hold there.- But stay, what noise, + + Enter Queen. + + How now, sweet queen? + Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel, + So fast they follow. Your sister's drown'd, Laertes. + Laer. Drown'd! O, where? + Queen. There is a willow grows aslant a brook, + That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream. + There with fantastic garlands did she come + Of crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, + That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, + But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them. + There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds + Clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke, + When down her weedy trophies and herself + Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide + And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up; + Which time she chaunted snatches of old tunes, + As one incapable of her own distress, + Or like a creature native and indued + Unto that element; but long it could not be + Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, + Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay + To muddy death. + Laer. Alas, then she is drown'd? + Queen. Drown'd, drown'd. + Laer. Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, + And therefore I forbid my tears; but yet + It is our trick; nature her custom holds, + Let shame say what it will. When these are gone, + The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord. + I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze + But that this folly douts it. Exit. + King. Let's follow, Gertrude. + How much I had to do to calm his rage I + Now fear I this will give it start again; + Therefore let's follow. + Exeunt. + + + + + +ACT V. Scene I. +Elsinore. A churchyard. + +Enter two Clowns, [with spades and pickaxes]. + + Clown. Is she to be buried in Christian burial when she wilfully + seeks her own salvation? + Other. I tell thee she is; therefore make her grave straight. + The crowner hath sate on her, and finds it Christian burial. + Clown. How can that be, unless she drown'd herself in her own + defence? + Other. Why, 'tis found so. + Clown. It must be se offendendo; it cannot be else. For here lies + the point: if I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act; and an + act hath three branches-it is to act, to do, and to perform; + argal, she drown'd herself wittingly. + Other. Nay, but hear you, Goodman Delver! + Clown. Give me leave. Here lies the water; good. Here stands the + man; good. If the man go to this water and drown himself, it is, + will he nill he, he goes- mark you that. But if the water come to + him and drown him, he drowns not himself. Argal, he that is not + guilty of his own death shortens not his own life. + Other. But is this law? + Clown. Ay, marry, is't- crowner's quest law. + Other. Will you ha' the truth an't? If this had not been a + gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o' Christian burial. + Clown. Why, there thou say'st! And the more pity that great folk + should have count'nance in this world to drown or hang themselves + more than their even-Christen. Come, my spade! There is no + ancient gentlemen but gard'ners, ditchers, and grave-makers. They + hold up Adam's profession. + Other. Was he a gentleman? + Clown. 'A was the first that ever bore arms. + Other. Why, he had none. + Clown. What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the Scripture? + The Scripture says Adam digg'd. Could he dig without arms? I'll + put another question to thee. If thou answerest me not to the + purpose, confess thyself- + Other. Go to! + Clown. What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the + shipwright, or the carpenter? + Other. The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand + tenants. + Clown. I like thy wit well, in good faith. The gallows does well. + But how does it well? It does well to those that do ill. Now, + thou dost ill to say the gallows is built stronger than the + church. Argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, come! + Other. Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a + carpenter? + Clown. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke. + Other. Marry, now I can tell! + Clown. To't. + Other. Mass, I cannot tell. + + Enter Hamlet and Horatio afar off. + + Clown. Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull ass will + not mend his pace with beating; and when you are ask'd this + question next, say 'a grave-maker.' The houses he makes lasts + till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan; fetch me a stoup of + liquor. + [Exit Second Clown.] + + [Clown digs and] sings. + + In youth when I did love, did love, + Methought it was very sweet; + To contract- O- the time for- a- my behove, + O, methought there- a- was nothing- a- meet. + + Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at + grave-making? + Hor. Custom hath made it in him a Property of easiness. + Ham. 'Tis e'en so. The hand of little employment hath the daintier + sense. + Clown. (sings) + But age with his stealing steps + Hath clawed me in his clutch, + And hath shipped me intil the land, + As if I had never been such. + [Throws up a skull.] + + Ham. That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once. How the + knave jowls it to the ground,as if 'twere Cain's jawbone, that + did the first murther! This might be the pate of a Politician, + which this ass now o'erreaches; one that would circumvent God, + might it not? + Hor. It might, my lord. + Ham. Or of a courtier, which could say 'Good morrow, sweet lord! + How dost thou, good lord?' This might be my Lord Such-a-one, that + prais'd my Lord Such-a-one's horse when he meant to beg it- might + it not? + Hor. Ay, my lord. + Ham. Why, e'en so! and now my Lady Worm's, chapless, and knock'd + about the mazzard with a sexton's spade. Here's fine revolution, + and we had the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more the + breeding but to play at loggets with 'em? Mine ache to think + on't. + Clown. (Sings) + A pickaxe and a spade, a spade, + For and a shrouding sheet; + O, a Pit of clay for to be made + For such a guest is meet. + Throws up [another skull]. + + Ham. There's another. Why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? + Where be his quiddits now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, + and his tricks? Why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock + him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him + of his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be in's time a + great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, his + fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries. Is this the fine of + his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine + pate full of fine dirt? Will his vouchers vouch him no more of + his purchases, and double ones too, than the length and breadth + of a pair of indentures? The very conveyances of his lands will + scarcely lie in this box; and must th' inheritor himself have no + more, ha? + Hor. Not a jot more, my lord. + Ham. Is not parchment made of sheepskins? + Hor. Ay, my lord, And of calveskins too. + Ham. They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that. I + will speak to this fellow. Whose grave's this, sirrah? + Clown. Mine, sir. + + [Sings] O, a pit of clay for to be made + For such a guest is meet. + + Ham. I think it be thine indeed, for thou liest in't. + Clown. You lie out on't, sir, and therefore 'tis not yours. + For my part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine. + Ham. Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine. 'Tis for + the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest. + Clown. 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again from me to you. + Ham. What man dost thou dig it for? + Clown. For no man, sir. + Ham. What woman then? + Clown. For none neither. + Ham. Who is to be buried in't? + Clown. One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead. + Ham. How absolute the knave is! We must speak by the card, or + equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, Horatio, this three years + I have taken note of it, the age is grown so picked that the toe + of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier he galls + his kibe.- How long hast thou been a grave-maker? + Clown. Of all the days i' th' year, I came to't that day that our + last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras. + Ham. How long is that since? + Clown. Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was the + very day that young Hamlet was born- he that is mad, and sent + into England. + Ham. Ay, marry, why was be sent into England? + Clown. Why, because 'a was mad. 'A shall recover his wits there; + or, if 'a do not, 'tis no great matter there. + Ham. Why? + Clown. 'Twill not he seen in him there. There the men are as mad as + he. + Ham. How came he mad? + Clown. Very strangely, they say. + Ham. How strangely? + Clown. Faith, e'en with losing his wits. + Ham. Upon what ground? + Clown. Why, here in Denmark. I have been sexton here, man and boy + thirty years. + Ham. How long will a man lie i' th' earth ere he rot? + Clown. Faith, if 'a be not rotten before 'a die (as we have many + pocky corses now-a-days that will scarce hold the laying in, I + will last you some eight year or nine year. A tanner will last + you nine year. + Ham. Why he more than another? + Clown. Why, sir, his hide is so tann'd with his trade that 'a will + keep out water a great while; and your water is a sore decayer of + your whoreson dead body. Here's a skull now. This skull hath lien + you i' th' earth three-and-twenty years. + Ham. Whose was it? + Clown. A whoreson, mad fellow's it was. Whose do you think it was? + Ham. Nay, I know not. + Clown. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! 'A pour'd a flagon of + Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's + skull, the King's jester. + Ham. This? + Clown. E'en that. + Ham. Let me see. [Takes the skull.] Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, + Horatio. A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He + hath borne me on his back a thousand tunes. And now how abhorred + in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those + lips that I have kiss'd I know not how oft. Where be your gibes + now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment that + were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your + own grinning? Quite chap- fall'n? Now get you to my lady's + chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this + favour she must come. Make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, + tell me one thing. + Hor. What's that, my lord? + Ham. Dost thou think Alexander look'd o' this fashion i' th' earth? + Hor. E'en so. + Ham. And smelt so? Pah! + [Puts down the skull.] + Hor. E'en so, my lord. + Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not + imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander till he find it + stopping a bunghole? + Hor. 'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so. + Ham. No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty + enough, and likelihood to lead it; as thus: Alexander died, + Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is + earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam (whereto he + was converted) might they not stop a beer barrel? + Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, + Might stop a hole to keep the wind away. + O, that that earth which kept the world in awe + Should patch a wall t' expel the winter's flaw! + But soft! but soft! aside! Here comes the King- + + Enter [priests with] a coffin [in funeral procession], King, + Queen, Laertes, with Lords attendant.] + + The Queen, the courtiers. Who is this they follow? + And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken + The corse they follow did with desp'rate hand + Fordo it own life. 'Twas of some estate. + Couch we awhile, and mark. + [Retires with Horatio.] + Laer. What ceremony else? + Ham. That is Laertes, + A very noble youth. Mark. + Laer. What ceremony else? + Priest. Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd + As we have warranty. Her death was doubtful; + And, but that great command o'ersways the order, + She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd + Till the last trumpet. For charitable prayers, + Shards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her. + Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants, + Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home + Of bell and burial. + Laer. Must there no more be done? + Priest. No more be done. + We should profane the service of the dead + To sing a requiem and such rest to her + As to peace-parted souls. + Laer. Lay her i' th' earth; + And from her fair and unpolluted flesh + May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, + A minist'ring angel shall my sister be + When thou liest howling. + Ham. What, the fair Ophelia? + Queen. Sweets to the sweet! Farewell. + [Scatters flowers.] + I hop'd thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife; + I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, + And not have strew'd thy grave. + Laer. O, treble woe + Fall ten times treble on that cursed head + Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense + Depriv'd thee of! Hold off the earth awhile, + Till I have caught her once more in mine arms. + Leaps in the grave. + Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead + Till of this flat a mountain you have made + T' o'ertop old Pelion or the skyish head + Of blue Olympus. + Ham. [comes forward] What is he whose grief + Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow + Conjures the wand'ring stars, and makes them stand + Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, + Hamlet the Dane. [Leaps in after Laertes. + Laer. The devil take thy soul! + [Grapples with him]. + Ham. Thou pray'st not well. + I prithee take thy fingers from my throat; + For, though I am not splenitive and rash, + Yet have I in me something dangerous, + Which let thy wisdom fear. Hold off thy hand! + King. Pluck thein asunder. + Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet! + All. Gentlemen! + Hor. Good my lord, be quiet. + [The Attendants part them, and they come out of the + grave.] + Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme + Until my eyelids will no longer wag. + Queen. O my son, what theme? + Ham. I lov'd Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers + Could not (with all their quantity of love) + Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her? + King. O, he is mad, Laertes. + Queen. For love of God, forbear him! + Ham. 'Swounds, show me what thou't do. + Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself? + Woo't drink up esill? eat a crocodile? + I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine? + To outface me with leaping in her grave? + Be buried quick with her, and so will I. + And if thou prate of mountains, let them throw + Millions of acres on us, till our ground, + Singeing his pate against the burning zone, + Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth, + I'll rant as well as thou. + Queen. This is mere madness; + And thus a while the fit will work on him. + Anon, as patient as the female dove + When that her golden couplets are disclos'd, + His silence will sit drooping. + Ham. Hear you, sir! + What is the reason that you use me thus? + I lov'd you ever. But it is no matter. + Let Hercules himself do what he may, + The cat will mew, and dog will have his day. +Exit. + King. I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him. + Exit Horatio. + [To Laertes] Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech. + We'll put the matter to the present push.- + Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.- + This grave shall have a living monument. + An hour of quiet shortly shall we see; + Till then in patience our proceeding be. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Elsinore. A hall in the Castle. + +Enter Hamlet and Horatio. + + Ham. So much for this, sir; now shall you see the other. + You do remember all the circumstance? + Hor. Remember it, my lord! + Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting + That would not let me sleep. Methought I lay + Worse than the mutinies in the bilboes. Rashly- + And prais'd be rashness for it; let us know, + Our indiscretion sometime serves us well + When our deep plots do pall; and that should learn us + There's a divinity that shapes our ends, + Rough-hew them how we will- + Hor. That is most certain. + Ham. Up from my cabin, + My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark + Grop'd I to find out them; had my desire, + Finger'd their packet, and in fine withdrew + To mine own room again; making so bold + (My fears forgetting manners) to unseal + Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio + (O royal knavery!), an exact command, + Larded with many several sorts of reasons, + Importing Denmark's health, and England's too, + With, hoo! such bugs and goblins in my life- + That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, + No, not to stay the finding of the axe, + My head should be struck off. + Hor. Is't possible? + Ham. Here's the commission; read it at more leisure. + But wilt thou bear me how I did proceed? + Hor. I beseech you. + Ham. Being thus benetted round with villanies, + Or I could make a prologue to my brains, + They had begun the play. I sat me down; + Devis'd a new commission; wrote it fair. + I once did hold it, as our statists do, + A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much + How to forget that learning; but, sir, now + It did me yeoman's service. Wilt thou know + Th' effect of what I wrote? + Hor. Ay, good my lord. + Ham. An earnest conjuration from the King, + As England was his faithful tributary, + As love between them like the palm might flourish, + As peace should still her wheaten garland wear + And stand a comma 'tween their amities, + And many such-like as's of great charge, + That, on the view and knowing of these contents, + Without debatement further, more or less, + He should the bearers put to sudden death, + Not shriving time allow'd. + Hor. How was this seal'd? + Ham. Why, even in that was heaven ordinant. + I had my father's signet in my purse, + which was the model of that Danish seal; + Folded the writ up in the form of th' other, + Subscrib'd it, gave't th' impression, plac'd it safely, + The changeling never known. Now, the next day + Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent + Thou know'st already. + Hor. So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't. + Ham. Why, man, they did make love to this employment! + They are not near my conscience; their defeat + Does by their own insinuation grow. + 'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes + Between the pass and fell incensed points + Of mighty opposites. + Hor. Why, what a king is this! + Ham. Does it not, thinks't thee, stand me now upon- + He that hath kill'd my king, and whor'd my mother; + Popp'd in between th' election and my hopes; + Thrown out his angle for my Proper life, + And with such coz'nage- is't not perfect conscience + To quit him with this arm? And is't not to be damn'd + To let this canker of our nature come + In further evil? + Hor. It must be shortly known to him from England + What is the issue of the business there. + Ham. It will be short; the interim is mine, + And a man's life is no more than to say 'one.' + But I am very sorry, good Horatio, + That to Laertes I forgot myself, + For by the image of my cause I see + The portraiture of his. I'll court his favours. + But sure the bravery of his grief did put me + Into a tow'ring passion. + Hor. Peace! Who comes here? + + Enter young Osric, a courtier. + + Osr. Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. + Ham. I humbly thank you, sir. [Aside to Horatio] Dost know this + waterfly? + Hor. [aside to Hamlet] No, my good lord. + Ham. [aside to Horatio] Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a + vice to know him. He hath much land, and fertile. Let a beast be + lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the king's mess. 'Tis + a chough; but, as I say, spacious in the possession of dirt. + Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should impart + a thing to you from his Majesty. + Ham. I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of spirit. Put your + bonnet to his right use. 'Tis for the head. + Osr. I thank your lordship, it is very hot. + Ham. No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly. + Osr. It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed. + Ham. But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my complexion. + Osr. Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry, as 'twere- I cannot + tell how. But, my lord, his Majesty bade me signify to you that + he has laid a great wager on your head. Sir, this is the matter- + Ham. I beseech you remember. + [Hamlet moves him to put on his hat.] + Osr. Nay, good my lord; for mine ease, in good faith. Sir, here is + newly come to court Laertes; believe me, an absolute gentleman, + full of most excellent differences, of very soft society and + great showing. Indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card + or calendar of gentry; for you shall find in him the continent of + what part a gentleman would see. + Ham. Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you; though, I + know, to divide him inventorially would dozy th' arithmetic of + memory, and yet but yaw neither in respect of his quick sail. + But, in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of great + article, and his infusion of such dearth and rareness as, to make + true diction of him, his semblable is his mirror, and who else + would trace him, his umbrage, nothing more. + Osr. Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him. + Ham. The concernancy, sir? Why do we wrap the gentleman in our more + rawer breath + Osr. Sir? + Hor [aside to Hamlet] Is't not possible to understand in another + tongue? You will do't, sir, really. + Ham. What imports the nomination of this gentleman + Osr. Of Laertes? + Hor. [aside] His purse is empty already. All's golden words are + spent. + Ham. Of him, sir. + Osr. I know you are not ignorant- + Ham. I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did, it would not + much approve me. Well, sir? + Osr. You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is- + Ham. I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with him in + excellence; but to know a man well were to know himself. + Osr. I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation laid on him + by them, in his meed he's unfellowed. + Ham. What's his weapon? + Osr. Rapier and dagger. + Ham. That's two of his weapons- but well. + Osr. The King, sir, hath wager'd with him six Barbary horses; + against the which he has impon'd, as I take it, six French + rapiers and poniards, with their assigns, as girdle, hangers, and + so. Three of the carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, + very responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of + very liberal conceit. + Ham. What call you the carriages? + Hor. [aside to Hamlet] I knew you must be edified by the margent + ere you had done. + Osr. The carriages, sir, are the hangers. + Ham. The phrase would be more germane to the matter if we could + carry cannon by our sides. I would it might be hangers till then. + But on! Six Barbary horses against six French swords, their + assigns, and three liberal-conceited carriages: that's the French + bet against the Danish. Why is this all impon'd, as you call it? + Osr. The King, sir, hath laid that, in a dozen passes between + yourself and him, he shall not exceed you three hits; he hath + laid on twelve for nine, and it would come to immediate trial + if your lordship would vouchsafe the answer. + Ham. How if I answer no? + Osr. I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial. + Ham. Sir, I will walk here in the hall. If it please his Majesty, + it is the breathing time of day with me. Let the foils be + brought, the gentleman willing, and the King hold his purpose, + I will win for him if I can; if not, I will gain nothing but my + shame and the odd hits. + Osr. Shall I redeliver you e'en so? + Ham. To this effect, sir, after what flourish your nature will. + Osr. I commend my duty to your lordship. + Ham. Yours, yours. [Exit Osric.] He does well to commend it + himself; there are no tongues else for's turn. + Hor. This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head. + Ham. He did comply with his dug before he suck'd it. Thus has he, + and many more of the same bevy that I know the drossy age dotes + on, only got the tune of the time and outward habit of encounter- + a kind of yesty collection, which carries them through and + through the most fann'd and winnowed opinions; and do but blow + them to their trial-the bubbles are out, + + Enter a Lord. + + Lord. My lord, his Majesty commended him to you by young Osric, who + brings back to him, that you attend him in the hall. He sends to + know if your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that you will + take longer time. + Ham. I am constant to my purposes; they follow the King's pleasure. + If his fitness speaks, mine is ready; now or whensoever, provided + I be so able as now. + Lord. The King and Queen and all are coming down. + Ham. In happy time. + Lord. The Queen desires you to use some gentle entertainment to + Laertes before you fall to play. + Ham. She well instructs me. + [Exit Lord.] + Hor. You will lose this wager, my lord. + Ham. I do not think so. Since he went into France I have been in + continual practice. I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not + think how ill all's here about my heart. But it is no matter. + Hor. Nay, good my lord - + Ham. It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of gaingiving as + would perhaps trouble a woman. + Hor. If your mind dislike anything, obey it. I will forestall their + repair hither and say you are not fit. + Ham. Not a whit, we defy augury; there's a special providence in + the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come', if it be + not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: + the readiness is all. Since no man knows aught of what he leaves, + what is't to leave betimes? Let be. + + Enter King, Queen, Laertes, Osric, and Lords, with other + Attendants with foils and gauntlets. + A table and flagons of wine on it. + + King. Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me. + [The King puts Laertes' hand into Hamlet's.] + Ham. Give me your pardon, sir. I have done you wrong; + But pardon't, as you are a gentleman. + This presence knows, + And you must needs have heard, how I am punish'd + With sore distraction. What I have done + That might your nature, honour, and exception + Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness. + Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet. + If Hamlet from himself be taken away, + And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes, + Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it. + Who does it, then? His madness. If't be so, + Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd; + His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy. + Sir, in this audience, + Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil + Free me so far in your most generous thoughts + That I have shot my arrow o'er the house + And hurt my brother. + Laer. I am satisfied in nature, + Whose motive in this case should stir me most + To my revenge. But in my terms of honour + I stand aloof, and will no reconcilement + Till by some elder masters of known honour + I have a voice and precedent of peace + To keep my name ungor'd. But till that time + I do receive your offer'd love like love, + And will not wrong it. + Ham. I embrace it freely, + And will this brother's wager frankly play. + Give us the foils. Come on. + Laer. Come, one for me. + Ham. I'll be your foil, Laertes. In mine ignorance + Your skill shall, like a star i' th' darkest night, + Stick fiery off indeed. + Laer. You mock me, sir. + Ham. No, by this bad. + King. Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet, + You know the wager? + Ham. Very well, my lord. + Your Grace has laid the odds o' th' weaker side. + King. I do not fear it, I have seen you both; + But since he is better'd, we have therefore odds. + Laer. This is too heavy; let me see another. + Ham. This likes me well. These foils have all a length? + Prepare to play. + Osr. Ay, my good lord. + King. Set me the stoups of wine upon that table. + If Hamlet give the first or second hit, + Or quit in answer of the third exchange, + Let all the battlements their ordnance fire; + The King shall drink to Hamlet's better breath, + And in the cup an union shall he throw + Richer than that which four successive kings + In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups; + And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, + The trumpet to the cannoneer without, + The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth, + 'Now the King drinks to Hamlet.' Come, begin. + And you the judges, bear a wary eye. + Ham. Come on, sir. + Laer. Come, my lord. They play. + Ham. One. + Laer. No. + Ham. Judgment! + Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit. + Laer. Well, again! + King. Stay, give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine; + Here's to thy health. + [Drum; trumpets sound; a piece goes off [within]. + Give him the cup. + Ham. I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile. + Come. (They play.) Another hit. What say you? + Laer. A touch, a touch; I do confess't. + King. Our son shall win. + Queen. He's fat, and scant of breath. + Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows. + The Queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet. + Ham. Good madam! + King. Gertrude, do not drink. + Queen. I will, my lord; I pray you pardon me. Drinks. + King. [aside] It is the poison'd cup; it is too late. + Ham. I dare not drink yet, madam; by-and-by. + Queen. Come, let me wipe thy face. + Laer. My lord, I'll hit him now. + King. I do not think't. + Laer. [aside] And yet it is almost against my conscience. + Ham. Come for the third, Laertes! You but dally. + pray You Pass with your best violence; + I am afeard You make a wanton of me. + Laer. Say you so? Come on. Play. + Osr. Nothing neither way. + Laer. Have at you now! + [Laertes wounds Hamlet; then] in scuffling, they + change rapiers, [and Hamlet wounds Laertes]. + King. Part them! They are incens'd. + Ham. Nay come! again! The Queen falls. + Osr. Look to the Queen there, ho! + Hor. They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord? + Osr. How is't, Laertes? + Laer. Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric. + I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery. + Ham. How does the Queen? + King. She sounds to see them bleed. + Queen. No, no! the drink, the drink! O my dear Hamlet! + The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. [Dies.] + Ham. O villany! Ho! let the door be lock'd. + Treachery! Seek it out. + [Laertes falls.] + Laer. It is here, Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slain; + No medicine in the world can do thee good. + In thee there is not half an hour of life. + The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, + Unbated and envenom'd. The foul practice + Hath turn'd itself on me. Lo, here I lie, + Never to rise again. Thy mother's poison'd. + I can no more. The King, the King's to blame. + Ham. The point envenom'd too? + Then, venom, to thy work. Hurts the King. + All. Treason! treason! + King. O, yet defend me, friends! I am but hurt. + Ham. Here, thou incestuous, murd'rous, damned Dane, + Drink off this potion! Is thy union here? + Follow my mother. King dies. + Laer. He is justly serv'd. + It is a poison temper'd by himself. + Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet. + Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, + Nor thine on me! Dies. + Ham. Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee. + I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu! + You that look pale and tremble at this chance, + That are but mutes or audience to this act, + Had I but time (as this fell sergeant, Death, + Is strict in his arrest) O, I could tell you- + But let it be. Horatio, I am dead; + Thou liv'st; report me and my cause aright + To the unsatisfied. + Hor. Never believe it. + I am more an antique Roman than a Dane. + Here's yet some liquor left. + Ham. As th'art a man, + Give me the cup. Let go! By heaven, I'll ha't. + O good Horatio, what a wounded name + (Things standing thus unknown) shall live behind me! + If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, + Absent thee from felicity awhile, + And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, + To tell my story. [March afar off, and shot within.] + What warlike noise is this? + Osr. Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland, + To the ambassadors of England gives + This warlike volley. + Ham. O, I die, Horatio! + The potent poison quite o'ercrows my spirit. + I cannot live to hear the news from England, + But I do prophesy th' election lights + On Fortinbras. He has my dying voice. + So tell him, with th' occurrents, more and less, + Which have solicited- the rest is silence. Dies. + Hor. Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, + And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! + [March within.] + Why does the drum come hither? + + Enter Fortinbras and English Ambassadors, with Drum, + Colours, and Attendants. + + Fort. Where is this sight? + Hor. What is it you will see? + If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search. + Fort. This quarry cries on havoc. O proud Death, + What feast is toward in thine eternal cell + That thou so many princes at a shot + So bloodily hast struck. + Ambassador. The sight is dismal; + And our affairs from England come too late. + The ears are senseless that should give us bearing + To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd + That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. + Where should We have our thanks? + Hor. Not from his mouth, + Had it th' ability of life to thank you. + He never gave commandment for their death. + But since, so jump upon this bloody question, + You from the Polack wars, and you from England, + Are here arriv'd, give order that these bodies + High on a stage be placed to the view; + And let me speak to the yet unknowing world + How these things came about. So shall You hear + Of carnal, bloody and unnatural acts; + Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters; + Of deaths put on by cunning and forc'd cause; + And, in this upshot, purposes mistook + Fall'n on th' inventors' heads. All this can I + Truly deliver. + Fort. Let us haste to hear it, + And call the noblest to the audience. + For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune. + I have some rights of memory in this kingdom + Which now, to claim my vantage doth invite me. + Hor. Of that I shall have also cause to speak, + And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more. + But let this same be presently perform'd, + Even while men's minds are wild, lest more mischance + On plots and errors happen. + Fort. Let four captains + Bear Hamlet like a soldier to the stage; + For he was likely, had he been put on, + To have prov'd most royally; and for his passage + The soldiers' music and the rites of war + Speak loudly for him. + Take up the bodies. Such a sight as this + Becomes the field but here shows much amiss. + Go, bid the soldiers shoot. + Exeunt marching; after the which a peal of ordnance + are shot off. + + +THE END diff --git a/examples/wordcount/works/midsummernightsdream.txt b/examples/wordcount/works/midsummernightsdream.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2e37340 --- /dev/null +++ b/examples/wordcount/works/midsummernightsdream.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2920 @@ +A Midsummer Night's Dream + +ACT I +SCENE I. Athens. The palace of THESEUS. +Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and Attendants +THESEUS +Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour +Draws on apace; four happy days bring in +Another moon: but, O, methinks, how slow +This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires, +Like to a step-dame or a dowager +Long withering out a young man revenue. +HIPPOLYTA +Four days will quickly steep themselves in night; +Four nights will quickly dream away the time; +And then the moon, like to a silver bow +New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night +Of our solemnities. +THESEUS +Go, Philostrate, +Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments; +Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth; +Turn melancholy forth to funerals; +The pale companion is not for our pomp. +Exit PHILOSTRATE + +Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword, +And won thy love, doing thee injuries; +But I will wed thee in another key, +With pomp, with triumph and with revelling. +Enter EGEUS, HERMIA, LYSANDER, and DEMETRIUS + +EGEUS +Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke! +THESEUS +Thanks, good Egeus: what's the news with thee? +EGEUS +Full of vexation come I, with complaint +Against my child, my daughter Hermia. +Stand forth, Demetrius. My noble lord, +This man hath my consent to marry her. +Stand forth, Lysander: and my gracious duke, +This man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child; +Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes, +And interchanged love-tokens with my child: +Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung, +With feigning voice verses of feigning love, +And stolen the impression of her fantasy +With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits, +Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats, messengers +Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth: +With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart, +Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me, +To stubborn harshness: and, my gracious duke, +Be it so she; will not here before your grace +Consent to marry with Demetrius, +I beg the ancient privilege of Athens, +As she is mine, I may dispose of her: +Which shall be either to this gentleman +Or to her death, according to our law +Immediately provided in that case. +THESEUS +What say you, Hermia? be advised fair maid: +To you your father should be as a god; +One that composed your beauties, yea, and one +To whom you are but as a form in wax +By him imprinted and within his power +To leave the figure or disfigure it. +Demetrius is a worthy gentleman. +HERMIA +So is Lysander. +THESEUS +In himself he is; +But in this kind, wanting your father's voice, +The other must be held the worthier. +HERMIA +I would my father look'd but with my eyes. +THESEUS +Rather your eyes must with his judgment look. +HERMIA +I do entreat your grace to pardon me. +I know not by what power I am made bold, +Nor how it may concern my modesty, +In such a presence here to plead my thoughts; +But I beseech your grace that I may know +The worst that may befall me in this case, +If I refuse to wed Demetrius. +THESEUS +Either to die the death or to abjure +For ever the society of men. +Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires; +Know of your youth, examine well your blood, +Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice, +You can endure the livery of a nun, +For aye to be in shady cloister mew'd, +To live a barren sister all your life, +Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. +Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood, +To undergo such maiden pilgrimage; +But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd, +Than that which withering on the virgin thorn +Grows, lives and dies in single blessedness. +HERMIA +So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, +Ere I will my virgin patent up +Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke +My soul consents not to give sovereignty. +THESEUS +Take time to pause; and, by the next new moon-- +The sealing-day betwixt my love and me, +For everlasting bond of fellowship-- +Upon that day either prepare to die +For disobedience to your father's will, +Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would; +Or on Diana's altar to protest +For aye austerity and single life. +DEMETRIUS +Relent, sweet Hermia: and, Lysander, yield +Thy crazed title to my certain right. +LYSANDER +You have her father's love, Demetrius; +Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him. +EGEUS +Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my love, +And what is mine my love shall render him. +And she is mine, and all my right of her +I do estate unto Demetrius. +LYSANDER +I am, my lord, as well derived as he, +As well possess'd; my love is more than his; +My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd, +If not with vantage, as Demetrius'; +And, which is more than all these boasts can be, +I am beloved of beauteous Hermia: +Why should not I then prosecute my right? +Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head, +Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena, +And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes, +Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry, +Upon this spotted and inconstant man. +THESEUS +I must confess that I have heard so much, +And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof; +But, being over-full of self-affairs, +My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come; +And come, Egeus; you shall go with me, +I have some private schooling for you both. +For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself +To fit your fancies to your father's will; +Or else the law of Athens yields you up-- +Which by no means we may extenuate-- +To death, or to a vow of single life. +Come, my Hippolyta: what cheer, my love? +Demetrius and Egeus, go along: +I must employ you in some business +Against our nuptial and confer with you +Of something nearly that concerns yourselves. +EGEUS +With duty and desire we follow you. +Exeunt all but LYSANDER and HERMIA + +LYSANDER +How now, my love! why is your cheek so pale? +How chance the roses there do fade so fast? +HERMIA +Belike for want of rain, which I could well +Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes. +LYSANDER +Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, +Could ever hear by tale or history, +The course of true love never did run smooth; +But, either it was different in blood,-- +HERMIA +O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low. +LYSANDER +Or else misgraffed in respect of years,-- +HERMIA +O spite! too old to be engaged to young. +LYSANDER +Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,-- +HERMIA +O hell! to choose love by another's eyes. +LYSANDER +Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, +War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it, +Making it momentany as a sound, +Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; +Brief as the lightning in the collied night, +That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, +And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!' +The jaws of darkness do devour it up: +So quick bright things come to confusion. +HERMIA +If then true lovers have been ever cross'd, +It stands as an edict in destiny: +Then let us teach our trial patience, +Because it is a customary cross, +As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs, +Wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers. +LYSANDER +A good persuasion: therefore, hear me, Hermia. +I have a widow aunt, a dowager +Of great revenue, and she hath no child: +From Athens is her house remote seven leagues; +And she respects me as her only son. +There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee; +And to that place the sharp Athenian law +Cannot pursue us. If thou lovest me then, +Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night; +And in the wood, a league without the town, +Where I did meet thee once with Helena, +To do observance to a morn of May, +There will I stay for thee. +HERMIA +My good Lysander! +I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow, +By his best arrow with the golden head, +By the simplicity of Venus' doves, +By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves, +And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage queen, +When the false Troyan under sail was seen, +By all the vows that ever men have broke, +In number more than ever women spoke, +In that same place thou hast appointed me, +To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. +LYSANDER +Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena. +Enter HELENA + +HERMIA +God speed fair Helena! whither away? +HELENA +Call you me fair? that fair again unsay. +Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair! +Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue's sweet air +More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, +When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear. +Sickness is catching: O, were favour so, +Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go; +My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye, +My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody. +Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, +The rest I'd give to be to you translated. +O, teach me how you look, and with what art +You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart. +HERMIA +I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. +HELENA +O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill! +HERMIA +I give him curses, yet he gives me love. +HELENA +O that my prayers could such affection move! +HERMIA +The more I hate, the more he follows me. +HELENA +The more I love, the more he hateth me. +HERMIA +His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. +HELENA +None, but your beauty: would that fault were mine! +HERMIA +Take comfort: he no more shall see my face; +Lysander and myself will fly this place. +Before the time I did Lysander see, +Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me: +O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, +That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell! +LYSANDER +Helen, to you our minds we will unfold: +To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold +Her silver visage in the watery glass, +Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, +A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal, +Through Athens' gates have we devised to steal. +HERMIA +And in the wood, where often you and I +Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie, +Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet, +There my Lysander and myself shall meet; +And thence from Athens turn away our eyes, +To seek new friends and stranger companies. +Farewell, sweet playfellow: pray thou for us; +And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius! +Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sight +From lovers' food till morrow deep midnight. +LYSANDER +I will, my Hermia. +Exit HERMIA + +Helena, adieu: +As you on him, Demetrius dote on you! +Exit + +HELENA +How happy some o'er other some can be! +Through Athens I am thought as fair as she. +But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so; +He will not know what all but he do know: +And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes, +So I, admiring of his qualities: +Things base and vile, folding no quantity, +Love can transpose to form and dignity: +Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; +And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind: +Nor hath Love's mind of any judgement taste; +Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste: +And therefore is Love said to be a child, +Because in choice he is so oft beguiled. +As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, +So the boy Love is perjured every where: +For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne, +He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine; +And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, +So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt. +I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight: +Then to the wood will he to-morrow night +Pursue her; and for this intelligence +If I have thanks, it is a dear expense: +But herein mean I to enrich my pain, +To have his sight thither and back again. +Exit + +SCENE II. Athens. QUINCE'S house. +Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING +QUINCE +Is all our company here? +BOTTOM +You were best to call them generally, man by man, +according to the scrip. +QUINCE +Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is +thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our +interlude before the duke and the duchess, on his +wedding-day at night. +BOTTOM +First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats +on, then read the names of the actors, and so grow +to a point. +QUINCE +Marry, our play is, The most lamentable comedy, and +most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby. +BOTTOM +A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a +merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your +actors by the scroll. Masters, spread yourselves. +QUINCE +Answer as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver. +BOTTOM +Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed. +QUINCE +You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. +BOTTOM +What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant? +QUINCE +A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love. +BOTTOM +That will ask some tears in the true performing of +it: if I do it, let the audience look to their +eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in some +measure. To the rest: yet my chief humour is for a +tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to +tear a cat in, to make all split. +The raging rocks +And shivering shocks +Shall break the locks +Of prison gates; +And Phibbus' car +Shall shine from far +And make and mar +The foolish Fates. +This was lofty! Now name the rest of the players. +This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is +more condoling. +QUINCE +Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. +FLUTE +Here, Peter Quince. +QUINCE +Flute, you must take Thisby on you. +FLUTE +What is Thisby? a wandering knight? +QUINCE +It is the lady that Pyramus must love. +FLUTE +Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; I have a beard coming. +QUINCE +That's all one: you shall play it in a mask, and +you may speak as small as you will. +BOTTOM +An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too, I'll +speak in a monstrous little voice. 'Thisne, +Thisne;' 'Ah, Pyramus, lover dear! thy Thisby dear, +and lady dear!' +QUINCE +No, no; you must play Pyramus: and, Flute, you Thisby. +BOTTOM +Well, proceed. +QUINCE +Robin Starveling, the tailor. +STARVELING +Here, Peter Quince. +QUINCE +Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother. +Tom Snout, the tinker. +SNOUT +Here, Peter Quince. +QUINCE +You, Pyramus' father: myself, Thisby's father: +Snug, the joiner; you, the lion's part: and, I +hope, here is a play fitted. +SNUG +Have you the lion's part written? pray you, if it +be, give it me, for I am slow of study. +QUINCE +You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring. +BOTTOM +Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will +do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar, +that I will make the duke say 'Let him roar again, +let him roar again.' +QUINCE +An you should do it too terribly, you would fright +the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; +and that were enough to hang us all. +ALL +That would hang us, every mother's son. +BOTTOM +I grant you, friends, if that you should fright the +ladies out of their wits, they would have no more +discretion but to hang us: but I will aggravate my +voice so that I will roar you as gently as any +sucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere any +nightingale. +QUINCE +You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a +sweet-faced man; a proper man, as one shall see in a +summer's day; a most lovely gentleman-like man: +therefore you must needs play Pyramus. +BOTTOM +Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best +to play it in? +QUINCE +Why, what you will. +BOTTOM +I will discharge it in either your straw-colour +beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain +beard, or your French-crown-colour beard, your +perfect yellow. +QUINCE +Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and +then you will play bare-faced. But, masters, here +are your parts: and I am to entreat you, request +you and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night; +and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the +town, by moonlight; there will we rehearse, for if +we meet in the city, we shall be dogged with +company, and our devices known. In the meantime I +will draw a bill of properties, such as our play +wants. I pray you, fail me not. +BOTTOM +We will meet; and there we may rehearse most +obscenely and courageously. Take pains; be perfect: adieu. +QUINCE +At the duke's oak we meet. +BOTTOM +Enough; hold or cut bow-strings. +Exeunt + +ACT II +SCENE I. A wood near Athens. +Enter, from opposite sides, a Fairy, and PUCK +PUCK +How now, spirit! whither wander you? +Fairy +Over hill, over dale, +Thorough bush, thorough brier, +Over park, over pale, +Thorough flood, thorough fire, +I do wander everywhere, +Swifter than the moon's sphere; +And I serve the fairy queen, +To dew her orbs upon the green. +The cowslips tall her pensioners be: +In their gold coats spots you see; +Those be rubies, fairy favours, +In those freckles live their savours: +I must go seek some dewdrops here +And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. +Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone: +Our queen and all our elves come here anon. +PUCK +The king doth keep his revels here to-night: +Take heed the queen come not within his sight; +For Oberon is passing fell and wrath, +Because that she as her attendant hath +A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king; +She never had so sweet a changeling; +And jealous Oberon would have the child +Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild; +But she perforce withholds the loved boy, +Crowns him with flowers and makes him all her joy: +And now they never meet in grove or green, +By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen, +But, they do square, that all their elves for fear +Creep into acorn-cups and hide them there. +Fairy +Either I mistake your shape and making quite, +Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite +Call'd Robin Goodfellow: are not you he +That frights the maidens of the villagery; +Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern +And bootless make the breathless housewife churn; +And sometime make the drink to bear no barm; +Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm? +Those that Hobgoblin call you and sweet Puck, +You do their work, and they shall have good luck: +Are not you he? +PUCK +Thou speak'st aright; +I am that merry wanderer of the night. +I jest to Oberon and make him smile +When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, +Neighing in likeness of a filly foal: +And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl, +In very likeness of a roasted crab, +And when she drinks, against her lips I bob +And on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale. +The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, +Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me; +Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, +And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough; +And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh, +And waxen in their mirth and neeze and swear +A merrier hour was never wasted there. +But, room, fairy! here comes Oberon. +Fairy +And here my mistress. Would that he were gone! +Enter, from one side, OBERON, with his train; from the other, TITANIA, with hers + +OBERON +Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania. +TITANIA +What, jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip hence: +I have forsworn his bed and company. +OBERON +Tarry, rash wanton: am not I thy lord? +TITANIA +Then I must be thy lady: but I know +When thou hast stolen away from fairy land, +And in the shape of Corin sat all day, +Playing on pipes of corn and versing love +To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here, +Come from the farthest Steppe of India? +But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, +Your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love, +To Theseus must be wedded, and you come +To give their bed joy and prosperity. +OBERON +How canst thou thus for shame, Titania, +Glance at my credit with Hippolyta, +Knowing I know thy love to Theseus? +Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night +From Perigenia, whom he ravished? +And make him with fair AEgle break his faith, +With Ariadne and Antiopa? +TITANIA +These are the forgeries of jealousy: +And never, since the middle summer's spring, +Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead, +By paved fountain or by rushy brook, +Or in the beached margent of the sea, +To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, +But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport. +Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, +As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea +Contagious fogs; which falling in the land +Have every pelting river made so proud +That they have overborne their continents: +The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain, +The ploughman lost his sweat, and the green corn +Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard; +The fold stands empty in the drowned field, +And crows are fatted with the murrion flock; +The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud, +And the quaint mazes in the wanton green +For lack of tread are undistinguishable: +The human mortals want their winter here; +No night is now with hymn or carol blest: +Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, +Pale in her anger, washes all the air, +That rheumatic diseases do abound: +And thorough this distemperature we see +The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts +Far in the fresh lap of the crimson rose, +And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown +An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds +Is, as in mockery, set: the spring, the summer, +The childing autumn, angry winter, change +Their wonted liveries, and the mazed world, +By their increase, now knows not which is which: +And this same progeny of evils comes +From our debate, from our dissension; +We are their parents and original. +OBERON +Do you amend it then; it lies in you: +Why should Titania cross her Oberon? +I do but beg a little changeling boy, +To be my henchman. +TITANIA +Set your heart at rest: +The fairy land buys not the child of me. +His mother was a votaress of my order: +And, in the spiced Indian air, by night, +Full often hath she gossip'd by my side, +And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, +Marking the embarked traders on the flood, +When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive +And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind; +Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait +Following,--her womb then rich with my young squire,-- +Would imitate, and sail upon the land, +To fetch me trifles, and return again, +As from a voyage, rich with merchandise. +But she, being mortal, of that boy did die; +And for her sake do I rear up her boy, +And for her sake I will not part with him. +OBERON +How long within this wood intend you stay? +TITANIA +Perchance till after Theseus' wedding-day. +If you will patiently dance in our round +And see our moonlight revels, go with us; +If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts. +OBERON +Give me that boy, and I will go with thee. +TITANIA +Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away! +We shall chide downright, if I longer stay. +Exit TITANIA with her train + +OBERON +Well, go thy way: thou shalt not from this grove +Till I torment thee for this injury. +My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou rememberest +Since once I sat upon a promontory, +And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back +Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath +That the rude sea grew civil at her song +And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, +To hear the sea-maid's music. +PUCK +I remember. +OBERON +That very time I saw, but thou couldst not, +Flying between the cold moon and the earth, +Cupid all arm'd: a certain aim he took +At a fair vestal throned by the west, +And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow, +As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts; +But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft +Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon, +And the imperial votaress passed on, +In maiden meditation, fancy-free. +Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: +It fell upon a little western flower, +Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, +And maidens call it love-in-idleness. +Fetch me that flower; the herb I shew'd thee once: +The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid +Will make or man or woman madly dote +Upon the next live creature that it sees. +Fetch me this herb; and be thou here again +Ere the leviathan can swim a league. +PUCK +I'll put a girdle round about the earth +In forty minutes. +Exit + +OBERON +Having once this juice, +I'll watch Titania when she is asleep, +And drop the liquor of it in her eyes. +The next thing then she waking looks upon, +Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, +On meddling monkey, or on busy ape, +She shall pursue it with the soul of love: +And ere I take this charm from off her sight, +As I can take it with another herb, +I'll make her render up her page to me. +But who comes here? I am invisible; +And I will overhear their conference. +Enter DEMETRIUS, HELENA, following him + +DEMETRIUS +I love thee not, therefore pursue me not. +Where is Lysander and fair Hermia? +The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me. +Thou told'st me they were stolen unto this wood; +And here am I, and wode within this wood, +Because I cannot meet my Hermia. +Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more. +HELENA +You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant; +But yet you draw not iron, for my heart +Is true as steel: leave you your power to draw, +And I shall have no power to follow you. +DEMETRIUS +Do I entice you? do I speak you fair? +Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth +Tell you, I do not, nor I cannot love you? +HELENA +And even for that do I love you the more. +I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius, +The more you beat me, I will fawn on you: +Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me, +Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave, +Unworthy as I am, to follow you. +What worser place can I beg in your love,-- +And yet a place of high respect with me,-- +Than to be used as you use your dog? +DEMETRIUS +Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit; +For I am sick when I do look on thee. +HELENA +And I am sick when I look not on you. +DEMETRIUS +You do impeach your modesty too much, +To leave the city and commit yourself +Into the hands of one that loves you not; +To trust the opportunity of night +And the ill counsel of a desert place +With the rich worth of your virginity. +HELENA +Your virtue is my privilege: for that +It is not night when I do see your face, +Therefore I think I am not in the night; +Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, +For you in my respect are all the world: +Then how can it be said I am alone, +When all the world is here to look on me? +DEMETRIUS +I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes, +And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. +HELENA +The wildest hath not such a heart as you. +Run when you will, the story shall be changed: +Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase; +The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind +Makes speed to catch the tiger; bootless speed, +When cowardice pursues and valour flies. +DEMETRIUS +I will not stay thy questions; let me go: +Or, if thou follow me, do not believe +But I shall do thee mischief in the wood. +HELENA +Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field, +You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius! +Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex: +We cannot fight for love, as men may do; +We should be wood and were not made to woo. +Exit DEMETRIUS + +I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, +To die upon the hand I love so well. +Exit + +OBERON +Fare thee well, nymph: ere he do leave this grove, +Thou shalt fly him and he shall seek thy love. +Re-enter PUCK + +Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer. +PUCK +Ay, there it is. +OBERON +I pray thee, give it me. +I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, +Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, +Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, +With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine: +There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, +Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight; +And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin, +Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in: +And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes, +And make her full of hateful fantasies. +Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove: +A sweet Athenian lady is in love +With a disdainful youth: anoint his eyes; +But do it when the next thing he espies +May be the lady: thou shalt know the man +By the Athenian garments he hath on. +Effect it with some care, that he may prove +More fond on her than she upon her love: +And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow. +PUCK +Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do so. +Exeunt + +SCENE II. Another part of the wood. +Enter TITANIA, with her train +TITANIA +Come, now a roundel and a fairy song; +Then, for the third part of a minute, hence; +Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds, +Some war with rere-mice for their leathern wings, +To make my small elves coats, and some keep back +The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders +At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep; +Then to your offices and let me rest. +The Fairies sing + +You spotted snakes with double tongue, +Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen; +Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong, +Come not near our fairy queen. +Philomel, with melody +Sing in our sweet lullaby; +Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby: +Never harm, +Nor spell nor charm, +Come our lovely lady nigh; +So, good night, with lullaby. +Weaving spiders, come not here; +Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence! +Beetles black, approach not near; +Worm nor snail, do no offence. +Philomel, with melody, & c. +Fairy +Hence, away! now all is well: +One aloof stand sentinel. +Exeunt Fairies. TITANIA sleeps + +Enter OBERON and squeezes the flower on TITANIA's eyelids + +OBERON +What thou seest when thou dost wake, +Do it for thy true-love take, +Love and languish for his sake: +Be it ounce, or cat, or bear, +Pard, or boar with bristled hair, +In thy eye that shall appear +When thou wakest, it is thy dear: +Wake when some vile thing is near. +Exit + +Enter LYSANDER and HERMIA + +LYSANDER +Fair love, you faint with wandering in the wood; +And to speak troth, I have forgot our way: +We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good, +And tarry for the comfort of the day. +HERMIA +Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed; +For I upon this bank will rest my head. +LYSANDER +One turf shall serve as pillow for us both; +One heart, one bed, two bosoms and one troth. +HERMIA +Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear, +Lie further off yet, do not lie so near. +LYSANDER +O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence! +Love takes the meaning in love's conference. +I mean, that my heart unto yours is knit +So that but one heart we can make of it; +Two bosoms interchained with an oath; +So then two bosoms and a single troth. +Then by your side no bed-room me deny; +For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie. +HERMIA +Lysander riddles very prettily: +Now much beshrew my manners and my pride, +If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied. +But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy +Lie further off; in human modesty, +Such separation as may well be said +Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid, +So far be distant; and, good night, sweet friend: +Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end! +LYSANDER +Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I; +And then end life when I end loyalty! +Here is my bed: sleep give thee all his rest! +HERMIA +With half that wish the wisher's eyes be press'd! +They sleep + +Enter PUCK + +PUCK +Through the forest have I gone. +But Athenian found I none, +On whose eyes I might approve +This flower's force in stirring love. +Night and silence.--Who is here? +Weeds of Athens he doth wear: +This is he, my master said, +Despised the Athenian maid; +And here the maiden, sleeping sound, +On the dank and dirty ground. +Pretty soul! she durst not lie +Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy. +Churl, upon thy eyes I throw +All the power this charm doth owe. +When thou wakest, let love forbid +Sleep his seat on thy eyelid: +So awake when I am gone; +For I must now to Oberon. +Exit + +Enter DEMETRIUS and HELENA, running + +HELENA +Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius. +DEMETRIUS +I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus. +HELENA +O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not so. +DEMETRIUS +Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go. +Exit + +HELENA +O, I am out of breath in this fond chase! +The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. +Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies; +For she hath blessed and attractive eyes. +How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears: +If so, my eyes are oftener wash'd than hers. +No, no, I am as ugly as a bear; +For beasts that meet me run away for fear: +Therefore no marvel though Demetrius +Do, as a monster fly my presence thus. +What wicked and dissembling glass of mine +Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne? +But who is here? Lysander! on the ground! +Dead? or asleep? I see no blood, no wound. +Lysander if you live, good sir, awake. +LYSANDER +[Awaking] And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake. +Transparent Helena! Nature shows art, +That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart. +Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word +Is that vile name to perish on my sword! +HELENA +Do not say so, Lysander; say not so +What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though? +Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content. +LYSANDER +Content with Hermia! No; I do repent +The tedious minutes I with her have spent. +Not Hermia but Helena I love: +Who will not change a raven for a dove? +The will of man is by his reason sway'd; +And reason says you are the worthier maid. +Things growing are not ripe until their season +So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason; +And touching now the point of human skill, +Reason becomes the marshal to my will +And leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlook +Love's stories written in love's richest book. +HELENA +Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? +When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? +Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, +That I did never, no, nor never can, +Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, +But you must flout my insufficiency? +Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do, +In such disdainful manner me to woo. +But fare you well: perforce I must confess +I thought you lord of more true gentleness. +O, that a lady, of one man refused. +Should of another therefore be abused! +Exit + +LYSANDER +She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there: +And never mayst thou come Lysander near! +For as a surfeit of the sweetest things +The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, +Or as tie heresies that men do leave +Are hated most of those they did deceive, +So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, +Of all be hated, but the most of me! +And, all my powers, address your love and might +To honour Helen and to be her knight! +Exit + +HERMIA +[Awaking] Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy best +To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast! +Ay me, for pity! what a dream was here! +Lysander, look how I do quake with fear: +Methought a serpent eat my heart away, +And you sat smiling at his cruel pray. +Lysander! what, removed? Lysander! lord! +What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word? +Alack, where are you speak, an if you hear; +Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear. +No? then I well perceive you all not nigh +Either death or you I'll find immediately. +Exit + +ACT III +SCENE I. The wood. TITANIA lying asleep. +Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING +BOTTOM +Are we all met? +QUINCE +Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place +for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our +stage, this hawthorn-brake our tiring-house; and we +will do it in action as we will do it before the duke. +BOTTOM +Peter Quince,-- +QUINCE +What sayest thou, bully Bottom? +BOTTOM +There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and +Thisby that will never please. First, Pyramus must +draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies +cannot abide. How answer you that? +SNOUT +By'r lakin, a parlous fear. +STARVELING +I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done. +BOTTOM +Not a whit: I have a device to make all well. +Write me a prologue; and let the prologue seem to +say, we will do no harm with our swords, and that +Pyramus is not killed indeed; and, for the more +better assurance, tell them that I, Pyramus, am not +Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put them +out of fear. +QUINCE +Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be +written in eight and six. +BOTTOM +No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight. +SNOUT +Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion? +STARVELING +I fear it, I promise you. +BOTTOM +Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves: to +bring in--God shield us!--a lion among ladies, is a +most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful +wild-fowl than your lion living; and we ought to +look to 't. +SNOUT +Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion. +BOTTOM +Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must +be seen through the lion's neck: and he himself +must speak through, saying thus, or to the same +defect,--'Ladies,'--or 'Fair-ladies--I would wish +You,'--or 'I would request you,'--or 'I would +entreat you,--not to fear, not to tremble: my life +for yours. If you think I come hither as a lion, it +were pity of my life: no I am no such thing; I am a +man as other men are;' and there indeed let him name +his name, and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner. +QUINCE +Well it shall be so. But there is two hard things; +that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for, +you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight. +SNOUT +Doth the moon shine that night we play our play? +BOTTOM +A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; find +out moonshine, find out moonshine. +QUINCE +Yes, it doth shine that night. +BOTTOM +Why, then may you leave a casement of the great +chamber window, where we play, open, and the moon +may shine in at the casement. +QUINCE +Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns +and a lanthorn, and say he comes to disfigure, or to +present, the person of Moonshine. Then, there is +another thing: we must have a wall in the great +chamber; for Pyramus and Thisby says the story, did +talk through the chink of a wall. +SNOUT +You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom? +BOTTOM +Some man or other must present Wall: and let him +have some plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast +about him, to signify wall; and let him hold his +fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus +and Thisby whisper. +QUINCE +If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down, +every mother's son, and rehearse your parts. +Pyramus, you begin: when you have spoken your +speech, enter into that brake: and so every one +according to his cue. +Enter PUCK behind + +PUCK +What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here, +So near the cradle of the fairy queen? +What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor; +An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause. +QUINCE +Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth. +BOTTOM +Thisby, the flowers of odious savours sweet,-- +QUINCE +Odours, odours. +BOTTOM +--odours savours sweet: +So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear. +But hark, a voice! stay thou but here awhile, +And by and by I will to thee appear. +Exit + +PUCK +A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here. +Exit + +FLUTE +Must I speak now? +QUINCE +Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goes +but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again. +FLUTE +Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, +Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier, +Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely Jew, +As true as truest horse that yet would never tire, +I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb. +QUINCE +'Ninus' tomb,' man: why, you must not speak that +yet; that you answer to Pyramus: you speak all your +part at once, cues and all Pyramus enter: your cue +is past; it is, 'never tire.' +FLUTE +O,--As true as truest horse, that yet would +never tire. +Re-enter PUCK, and BOTTOM with an ass's head + +BOTTOM +If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine. +QUINCE +O monstrous! O strange! we are haunted. Pray, +masters! fly, masters! Help! +Exeunt QUINCE, SNUG, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING + +PUCK +I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round, +Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier: +Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, +A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire; +And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn, +Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. +Exit + +BOTTOM +Why do they run away? this is a knavery of them to +make me afeard. +Re-enter SNOUT + +SNOUT +O Bottom, thou art changed! what do I see on thee? +BOTTOM +What do you see? you see an asshead of your own, do +you? +Exit SNOUT + +Re-enter QUINCE + +QUINCE +Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art +translated. +Exit + +BOTTOM +I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me; +to fright me, if they could. But I will not stir +from this place, do what they can: I will walk up +and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear +I am not afraid. +Sings + +The ousel cock so black of hue, +With orange-tawny bill, +The throstle with his note so true, +The wren with little quill,-- +TITANIA +[Awaking] What angel wakes me from my flowery bed? +BOTTOM +[Sings] +The finch, the sparrow and the lark, +The plain-song cuckoo gray, +Whose note full many a man doth mark, +And dares not answer nay;-- +for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish +a bird? who would give a bird the lie, though he cry +'cuckoo' never so? +TITANIA +I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again: +Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note; +So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; +And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me +On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee. +BOTTOM +Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason +for that: and yet, to say the truth, reason and +love keep little company together now-a-days; the +more the pity that some honest neighbours will not +make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion. +TITANIA +Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. +BOTTOM +Not so, neither: but if I had wit enough to get out +of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn. +TITANIA +Out of this wood do not desire to go: +Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. +I am a spirit of no common rate; +The summer still doth tend upon my state; +And I do love thee: therefore, go with me; +I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee, +And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep, +And sing while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep; +And I will purge thy mortal grossness so +That thou shalt like an airy spirit go. +Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed! +Enter PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, and MUSTARDSEED + +PEASEBLOSSOM +Ready. +COBWEB +And I. +MOTH +And I. +MUSTARDSEED +And I. +ALL +Where shall we go? +TITANIA +Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; +Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; +Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, +With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; +The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, +And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs +And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, +To have my love to bed and to arise; +And pluck the wings from Painted butterflies +To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes: +Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. +PEASEBLOSSOM +Hail, mortal! +COBWEB +Hail! +MOTH +Hail! +MUSTARDSEED +Hail! +BOTTOM +I cry your worship's mercy, heartily: I beseech your +worship's name. +COBWEB +Cobweb. +BOTTOM +I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master +Cobweb: if I cut my finger, I shall make bold with +you. Your name, honest gentleman? +PEASEBLOSSOM +Peaseblossom. +BOTTOM +I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your +mother, and to Master Peascod, your father. Good +Master Peaseblossom, I shall desire you of more +acquaintance too. Your name, I beseech you, sir? +MUSTARDSEED +Mustardseed. +BOTTOM +Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well: +that same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hath +devoured many a gentleman of your house: I promise +you your kindred had made my eyes water ere now. I +desire your more acquaintance, good Master +Mustardseed. +TITANIA +Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower. +The moon methinks looks with a watery eye; +And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, +Lamenting some enforced chastity. +Tie up my love's tongue bring him silently. +Exeunt + +SCENE II. Another part of the wood. +Enter OBERON +OBERON +I wonder if Titania be awaked; +Then, what it was that next came in her eye, +Which she must dote on in extremity. +Enter PUCK + +Here comes my messenger. +How now, mad spirit! +What night-rule now about this haunted grove? +PUCK +My mistress with a monster is in love. +Near to her close and consecrated bower, +While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, +A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, +That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, +Were met together to rehearse a play +Intended for great Theseus' nuptial-day. +The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort, +Who Pyramus presented, in their sport +Forsook his scene and enter'd in a brake +When I did him at this advantage take, +An ass's nole I fixed on his head: +Anon his Thisbe must be answered, +And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy, +As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, +Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, +Rising and cawing at the gun's report, +Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky, +So, at his sight, away his fellows fly; +And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls; +He murder cries and help from Athens calls. +Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears +thus strong, +Made senseless things begin to do them wrong; +For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch; +Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all +things catch. +I led them on in this distracted fear, +And left sweet Pyramus translated there: +When in that moment, so it came to pass, +Titania waked and straightway loved an ass. +OBERON +This falls out better than I could devise. +But hast thou yet latch'd the Athenian's eyes +With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do? +PUCK +I took him sleeping,--that is finish'd too,-- +And the Athenian woman by his side: +That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed. +Enter HERMIA and DEMETRIUS + +OBERON +Stand close: this is the same Athenian. +PUCK +This is the woman, but not this the man. +DEMETRIUS +O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? +Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. +HERMIA +Now I but chide; but I should use thee worse, +For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse, +If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, +Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, +And kill me too. +The sun was not so true unto the day +As he to me: would he have stolen away +From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon +This whole earth may be bored and that the moon +May through the centre creep and so displease +Her brother's noontide with Antipodes. +It cannot be but thou hast murder'd him; +So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim. +DEMETRIUS +So should the murder'd look, and so should I, +Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty: +Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, +As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. +HERMIA +What's this to my Lysander? where is he? +Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me? +DEMETRIUS +I had rather give his carcass to my hounds. +HERMIA +Out, dog! out, cur! thou drivest me past the bounds +Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then? +Henceforth be never number'd among men! +O, once tell true, tell true, even for my sake! +Durst thou have look'd upon him being awake, +And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch! +Could not a worm, an adder, do so much? +An adder did it; for with doubler tongue +Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung. +DEMETRIUS +You spend your passion on a misprised mood: +I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; +Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. +HERMIA +I pray thee, tell me then that he is well. +DEMETRIUS +An if I could, what should I get therefore? +HERMIA +A privilege never to see me more. +And from thy hated presence part I so: +See me no more, whether he be dead or no. +Exit + +DEMETRIUS +There is no following her in this fierce vein: +Here therefore for a while I will remain. +So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow +For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe: +Which now in some slight measure it will pay, +If for his tender here I make some stay. +Lies down and sleeps + +OBERON +What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quite +And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight: +Of thy misprision must perforce ensue +Some true love turn'd and not a false turn'd true. +PUCK +Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man holding troth, +A million fail, confounding oath on oath. +OBERON +About the wood go swifter than the wind, +And Helena of Athens look thou find: +All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, +With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear: +By some illusion see thou bring her here: +I'll charm his eyes against she do appear. +PUCK +I go, I go; look how I go, +Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. +Exit + +OBERON +Flower of this purple dye, +Hit with Cupid's archery, +Sink in apple of his eye. +When his love he doth espy, +Let her shine as gloriously +As the Venus of the sky. +When thou wakest, if she be by, +Beg of her for remedy. +Re-enter PUCK + +PUCK +Captain of our fairy band, +Helena is here at hand; +And the youth, mistook by me, +Pleading for a lover's fee. +Shall we their fond pageant see? +Lord, what fools these mortals be! +OBERON +Stand aside: the noise they make +Will cause Demetrius to awake. +PUCK +Then will two at once woo one; +That must needs be sport alone; +And those things do best please me +That befal preposterously. +Enter LYSANDER and HELENA + +LYSANDER +Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? +Scorn and derision never come in tears: +Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, +In their nativity all truth appears. +How can these things in me seem scorn to you, +Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true? +HELENA +You do advance your cunning more and more. +When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray! +These vows are Hermia's: will you give her o'er? +Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh: +Your vows to her and me, put in two scales, +Will even weigh, and both as light as tales. +LYSANDER +I had no judgment when to her I swore. +HELENA +Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er. +LYSANDER +Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you. +DEMETRIUS +[Awaking] O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine! +To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? +Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show +Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! +That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow, +Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow +When thou hold'st up thy hand: O, let me kiss +This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss! +HELENA +O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent +To set against me for your merriment: +If you we re civil and knew courtesy, +You would not do me thus much injury. +Can you not hate me, as I know you do, +But you must join in souls to mock me too? +If you were men, as men you are in show, +You would not use a gentle lady so; +To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, +When I am sure you hate me with your hearts. +You both are rivals, and love Hermia; +And now both rivals, to mock Helena: +A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, +To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes +With your derision! none of noble sort +Would so offend a virgin, and extort +A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport. +LYSANDER +You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so; +For you love Hermia; this you know I know: +And here, with all good will, with all my heart, +In Hermia's love I yield you up my part; +And yours of Helena to me bequeath, +Whom I do love and will do till my death. +HELENA +Never did mockers waste more idle breath. +DEMETRIUS +Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none: +If e'er I loved her, all that love is gone. +My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn'd, +And now to Helen is it home return'd, +There to remain. +LYSANDER +Helen, it is not so. +DEMETRIUS +Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, +Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear. +Look, where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear. +Re-enter HERMIA + +HERMIA +Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, +The ear more quick of apprehension makes; +Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, +It pays the hearing double recompense. +Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found; +Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound +But why unkindly didst thou leave me so? +LYSANDER +Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go? +HERMIA +What love could press Lysander from my side? +LYSANDER +Lysander's love, that would not let him bide, +Fair Helena, who more engilds the night +Than all you fiery oes and eyes of light. +Why seek'st thou me? could not this make thee know, +The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so? +HERMIA +You speak not as you think: it cannot be. +HELENA +Lo, she is one of this confederacy! +Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all three +To fashion this false sport, in spite of me. +Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid! +Have you conspired, have you with these contrived +To bait me with this foul derision? +Is all the counsel that we two have shared, +The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, +When we have chid the hasty-footed time +For parting us,--O, is it all forgot? +All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence? +We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, +Have with our needles created both one flower, +Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, +Both warbling of one song, both in one key, +As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds, +Had been incorporate. So we grow together, +Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, +But yet an union in partition; +Two lovely berries moulded on one stem; +So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart; +Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, +Due but to one and crowned with one crest. +And will you rent our ancient love asunder, +To join with men in scorning your poor friend? +It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly: +Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, +Though I alone do feel the injury. +HERMIA +I am amazed at your passionate words. +I scorn you not: it seems that you scorn me. +HELENA +Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn, +To follow me and praise my eyes and face? +And made your other love, Demetrius, +Who even but now did spurn me with his foot, +To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare, +Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this +To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander +Deny your love, so rich within his soul, +And tender me, forsooth, affection, +But by your setting on, by your consent? +What thought I be not so in grace as you, +So hung upon with love, so fortunate, +But miserable most, to love unloved? +This you should pity rather than despise. +HERNIA +I understand not what you mean by this. +HELENA +Ay, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks, +Make mouths upon me when I turn my back; +Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up: +This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled. +If you have any pity, grace, or manners, +You would not make me such an argument. +But fare ye well: 'tis partly my own fault; +Which death or absence soon shall remedy. +LYSANDER +Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse: +My love, my life my soul, fair Helena! +HELENA +O excellent! +HERMIA +Sweet, do not scorn her so. +DEMETRIUS +If she cannot entreat, I can compel. +LYSANDER +Thou canst compel no more than she entreat: +Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers. +Helen, I love thee; by my life, I do: +I swear by that which I will lose for thee, +To prove him false that says I love thee not. +DEMETRIUS +I say I love thee more than he can do. +LYSANDER +If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too. +DEMETRIUS +Quick, come! +HERMIA +Lysander, whereto tends all this? +LYSANDER +Away, you Ethiope! +DEMETRIUS +No, no; he'll [ ] +Seem to break loose; take on as you would follow, +But yet come not: you are a tame man, go! +LYSANDER +Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! vile thing, let loose, +Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent! +HERMIA +Why are you grown so rude? what change is this? +Sweet love,-- +LYSANDER +Thy love! out, tawny Tartar, out! +Out, loathed medicine! hated potion, hence! +HERMIA +Do you not jest? +HELENA +Yes, sooth; and so do you. +LYSANDER +Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee. +DEMETRIUS +I would I had your bond, for I perceive +A weak bond holds you: I'll not trust your word. +LYSANDER +What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead? +Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so. +HERMIA +What, can you do me greater harm than hate? +Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my love! +Am not I Hermia? are not you Lysander? +I am as fair now as I was erewhile. +Since night you loved me; yet since night you left +me: +Why, then you left me--O, the gods forbid!-- +In earnest, shall I say? +LYSANDER +Ay, by my life; +And never did desire to see thee more. +Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt; +Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jest +That I do hate thee and love Helena. +HERMIA +O me! you juggler! you canker-blossom! +You thief of love! what, have you come by night +And stolen my love's heart from him? +HELENA +Fine, i'faith! +Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, +No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear +Impatient answers from my gentle tongue? +Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet, you! +HERMIA +Puppet? why so? ay, that way goes the game. +Now I perceive that she hath made compare +Between our statures; she hath urged her height; +And with her personage, her tall personage, +Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him. +And are you grown so high in his esteem; +Because I am so dwarfish and so low? +How low am I, thou painted maypole? speak; +How low am I? I am not yet so low +But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes. +HELENA +I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen, +Let her not hurt me: I was never curst; +I have no gift at all in shrewishness; +I am a right maid for my cowardice: +Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think, +Because she is something lower than myself, +That I can match her. +HERMIA +Lower! hark, again. +HELENA +Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. +I evermore did love you, Hermia, +Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you; +Save that, in love unto Demetrius, +I told him of your stealth unto this wood. +He follow'd you; for love I follow'd him; +But he hath chid me hence and threaten'd me +To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too: +And now, so you will let me quiet go, +To Athens will I bear my folly back +And follow you no further: let me go: +You see how simple and how fond I am. +HERMIA +Why, get you gone: who is't that hinders you? +HELENA +A foolish heart, that I leave here behind. +HERMIA +What, with Lysander? +HELENA +With Demetrius. +LYSANDER +Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena. +DEMETRIUS +No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part. +HELENA +O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd! +She was a vixen when she went to school; +And though she be but little, she is fierce. +HERMIA +'Little' again! nothing but 'low' and 'little'! +Why will you suffer her to flout me thus? +Let me come to her. +LYSANDER +Get you gone, you dwarf; +You minimus, of hindering knot-grass made; +You bead, you acorn. +DEMETRIUS +You are too officious +In her behalf that scorns your services. +Let her alone: speak not of Helena; +Take not her part; for, if thou dost intend +Never so little show of love to her, +Thou shalt aby it. +LYSANDER +Now she holds me not; +Now follow, if thou darest, to try whose right, +Of thine or mine, is most in Helena. +DEMETRIUS +Follow! nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jole. +Exeunt LYSANDER and DEMETRIUS + +HERMIA +You, mistress, all this coil is 'long of you: +Nay, go not back. +HELENA +I will not trust you, I, +Nor longer stay in your curst company. +Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray, +My legs are longer though, to run away. +Exit + +HERMIA +I am amazed, and know not what to say. +Exit + +OBERON +This is thy negligence: still thou mistakest, +Or else committ'st thy knaveries wilfully. +PUCK +Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook. +Did not you tell me I should know the man +By the Athenian garment be had on? +And so far blameless proves my enterprise, +That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes; +And so far am I glad it so did sort +As this their jangling I esteem a sport. +OBERON +Thou see'st these lovers seek a place to fight: +Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night; +The starry welkin cover thou anon +With drooping fog as black as Acheron, +And lead these testy rivals so astray +As one come not within another's way. +Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue, +Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong; +And sometime rail thou like Demetrius; +And from each other look thou lead them thus, +Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep +With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep: +Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye; +Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, +To take from thence all error with his might, +And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight. +When they next wake, all this derision +Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision, +And back to Athens shall the lovers wend, +With league whose date till death shall never end. +Whiles I in this affair do thee employ, +I'll to my queen and beg her Indian boy; +And then I will her charmed eye release +From monster's view, and all things shall be peace. +PUCK +My fairy lord, this must be done with haste, +For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, +And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; +At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there, +Troop home to churchyards: damned spirits all, +That in crossways and floods have burial, +Already to their wormy beds are gone; +For fear lest day should look their shames upon, +They willfully themselves exile from light +And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night. +OBERON +But we are spirits of another sort: +I with the morning's love have oft made sport, +And, like a forester, the groves may tread, +Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red, +Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams, +Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams. +But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay: +We may effect this business yet ere day. +Exit + +PUCK +Up and down, up and down, +I will lead them up and down: +I am fear'd in field and town: +Goblin, lead them up and down. +Here comes one. +Re-enter LYSANDER + +LYSANDER +Where art thou, proud Demetrius? speak thou now. +PUCK +Here, villain; drawn and ready. Where art thou? +LYSANDER +I will be with thee straight. +PUCK +Follow me, then, +To plainer ground. +Exit LYSANDER, as following the voice + +Re-enter DEMETRIUS + +DEMETRIUS +Lysander! speak again: +Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled? +Speak! In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head? +PUCK +Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars, +Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, +And wilt not come? Come, recreant; come, thou child; +I'll whip thee with a rod: he is defiled +That draws a sword on thee. +DEMETRIUS +Yea, art thou there? +PUCK +Follow my voice: we'll try no manhood here. +Exeunt + +Re-enter LYSANDER + +LYSANDER +He goes before me and still dares me on: +When I come where he calls, then he is gone. +The villain is much lighter-heel'd than I: +I follow'd fast, but faster he did fly; +That fallen am I in dark uneven way, +And here will rest me. +Lies down + +Come, thou gentle day! +For if but once thou show me thy grey light, +I'll find Demetrius and revenge this spite. +Sleeps + +Re-enter PUCK and DEMETRIUS + +PUCK +Ho, ho, ho! Coward, why comest thou not? +DEMETRIUS +Abide me, if thou darest; for well I wot +Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place, +And darest not stand, nor look me in the face. +Where art thou now? +PUCK +Come hither: I am here. +DEMETRIUS +Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt buy this dear, +If ever I thy face by daylight see: +Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me +To measure out my length on this cold bed. +By day's approach look to be visited. +Lies down and sleeps + +Re-enter HELENA + +HELENA +O weary night, O long and tedious night, +Abate thy hour! Shine comforts from the east, +That I may back to Athens by daylight, +From these that my poor company detest: +And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, +Steal me awhile from mine own company. +Lies down and sleeps + +PUCK +Yet but three? Come one more; +Two of both kinds make up four. +Here she comes, curst and sad: +Cupid is a knavish lad, +Thus to make poor females mad. +Re-enter HERMIA + +HERMIA +Never so weary, never so in woe, +Bedabbled with the dew and torn with briers, +I can no further crawl, no further go; +My legs can keep no pace with my desires. +Here will I rest me till the break of day. +Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray! +Lies down and sleeps + +PUCK +On the ground +Sleep sound: +I'll apply +To your eye, +Gentle lover, remedy. +Squeezing the juice on LYSANDER's eyes + +When thou wakest, +Thou takest +True delight +In the sight +Of thy former lady's eye: +And the country proverb known, +That every man should take his own, +In your waking shall be shown: +Jack shall have Jill; +Nought shall go ill; +The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well. +Exit + +ACT IV +SCENE I. The same. LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HELENA, and HERMIA +lying asleep. +Enter TITANIA and BOTTOM; PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, MUSTARDSEED, and other Fairies attending; OBERON behind unseen + +TITANIA +Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed, +While I thy amiable cheeks do coy, +And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, +And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy. +BOTTOM +Where's Peaseblossom? +PEASEBLOSSOM +Ready. +BOTTOM +Scratch my head Peaseblossom. Where's Mounsieur Cobweb? +COBWEB +Ready. +BOTTOM +Mounsieur Cobweb, good mounsieur, get you your +weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped +humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good +mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret +yourself too much in the action, mounsieur; and, +good mounsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; +I would be loath to have you overflown with a +honey-bag, signior. Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed? +MUSTARDSEED +Ready. +BOTTOM +Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you, +leave your courtesy, good mounsieur. +MUSTARDSEED +What's your Will? +BOTTOM +Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb +to scratch. I must to the barber's, monsieur; for +methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face; and I +am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, +I must scratch. +TITANIA +What, wilt thou hear some music, +my sweet love? +BOTTOM +I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let's have +the tongs and the bones. +TITANIA +Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat. +BOTTOM +Truly, a peck of provender: I could munch your good +dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle +of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow. +TITANIA +I have a venturous fairy that shall seek +The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts. +BOTTOM +I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. +But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me: I +have an exposition of sleep come upon me. +TITANIA +Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. +Fairies, begone, and be all ways away. +Exeunt fairies + +So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle +Gently entwist; the female ivy so +Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. +O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee! +They sleep + +Enter PUCK + +OBERON +[Advancing] Welcome, good Robin. +See'st thou this sweet sight? +Her dotage now I do begin to pity: +For, meeting her of late behind the wood, +Seeking sweet favours from this hateful fool, +I did upbraid her and fall out with her; +For she his hairy temples then had rounded +With a coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers; +And that same dew, which sometime on the buds +Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls, +Stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes +Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. +When I had at my pleasure taunted her +And she in mild terms begg'd my patience, +I then did ask of her her changeling child; +Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent +To bear him to my bower in fairy land. +And now I have the boy, I will undo +This hateful imperfection of her eyes: +And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp +From off the head of this Athenian swain; +That, he awaking when the other do, +May all to Athens back again repair +And think no more of this night's accidents +But as the fierce vexation of a dream. +But first I will release the fairy queen. +Be as thou wast wont to be; +See as thou wast wont to see: +Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower +Hath such force and blessed power. +Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen. +TITANIA +My Oberon! what visions have I seen! +Methought I was enamour'd of an ass. +OBERON +There lies your love. +TITANIA +How came these things to pass? +O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now! +OBERON +Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head. +Titania, music call; and strike more dead +Than common sleep of all these five the sense. +TITANIA +Music, ho! music, such as charmeth sleep! +Music, still + +PUCK +Now, when thou wakest, with thine +own fool's eyes peep. +OBERON +Sound, music! Come, my queen, take hands with me, +And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be. +Now thou and I are new in amity, +And will to-morrow midnight solemnly +Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly, +And bless it to all fair prosperity: +There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be +Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity. +PUCK +Fairy king, attend, and mark: +I do hear the morning lark. +OBERON +Then, my queen, in silence sad, +Trip we after the night's shade: +We the globe can compass soon, +Swifter than the wandering moon. +TITANIA +Come, my lord, and in our flight +Tell me how it came this night +That I sleeping here was found +With these mortals on the ground. +Exeunt + +Horns winded within + +Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train + +THESEUS +Go, one of you, find out the forester; +For now our observation is perform'd; +And since we have the vaward of the day, +My love shall hear the music of my hounds. +Uncouple in the western valley; let them go: +Dispatch, I say, and find the forester. +Exit an Attendant + +We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top, +And mark the musical confusion +Of hounds and echo in conjunction. +HIPPOLYTA +I was with Hercules and Cadmus once, +When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear +With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear +Such gallant chiding: for, besides the groves, +The skies, the fountains, every region near +Seem'd all one mutual cry: I never heard +So musical a discord, such sweet thunder. +THESEUS +My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, +So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung +With ears that sweep away the morning dew; +Crook-knee'd, and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls; +Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, +Each under each. A cry more tuneable +Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn, +In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly: +Judge when you hear. But, soft! what nymphs are these? +EGEUS +My lord, this is my daughter here asleep; +And this, Lysander; this Demetrius is; +This Helena, old Nedar's Helena: +I wonder of their being here together. +THESEUS +No doubt they rose up early to observe +The rite of May, and hearing our intent, +Came here in grace our solemnity. +But speak, Egeus; is not this the day +That Hermia should give answer of her choice? +EGEUS +It is, my lord. +THESEUS +Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns. +Horns and shout within. LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HELENA, and HERMIA wake and start up + +Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past: +Begin these wood-birds but to couple now? +LYSANDER +Pardon, my lord. +THESEUS +I pray you all, stand up. +I know you two are rival enemies: +How comes this gentle concord in the world, +That hatred is so far from jealousy, +To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity? +LYSANDER +My lord, I shall reply amazedly, +Half sleep, half waking: but as yet, I swear, +I cannot truly say how I came here; +But, as I think,--for truly would I speak, +And now do I bethink me, so it is,-- +I came with Hermia hither: our intent +Was to be gone from Athens, where we might, +Without the peril of the Athenian law. +EGEUS +Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough: +I beg the law, the law, upon his head. +They would have stolen away; they would, Demetrius, +Thereby to have defeated you and me, +You of your wife and me of my consent, +Of my consent that she should be your wife. +DEMETRIUS +My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth, +Of this their purpose hither to this wood; +And I in fury hither follow'd them, +Fair Helena in fancy following me. +But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,-- +But by some power it is,--my love to Hermia, +Melted as the snow, seems to me now +As the remembrance of an idle gaud +Which in my childhood I did dote upon; +And all the faith, the virtue of my heart, +The object and the pleasure of mine eye, +Is only Helena. To her, my lord, +Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia: +But, like in sickness, did I loathe this food; +But, as in health, come to my natural taste, +Now I do wish it, love it, long for it, +And will for evermore be true to it. +THESEUS +Fair lovers, you are fortunately met: +Of this discourse we more will hear anon. +Egeus, I will overbear your will; +For in the temple by and by with us +These couples shall eternally be knit: +And, for the morning now is something worn, +Our purposed hunting shall be set aside. +Away with us to Athens; three and three, +We'll hold a feast in great solemnity. +Come, Hippolyta. +Exeunt THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train + +DEMETRIUS +These things seem small and undistinguishable, +HERMIA +Methinks I see these things with parted eye, +When every thing seems double. +HELENA +So methinks: +And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, +Mine own, and not mine own. +DEMETRIUS +Are you sure +That we are awake? It seems to me +That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think +The duke was here, and bid us follow him? +HERMIA +Yea; and my father. +HELENA +And Hippolyta. +LYSANDER +And he did bid us follow to the temple. +DEMETRIUS +Why, then, we are awake: let's follow him +And by the way let us recount our dreams. +Exeunt + +BOTTOM +[Awaking] When my cue comes, call me, and I will +answer: my next is, 'Most fair Pyramus.' Heigh-ho! +Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, +the tinker! Starveling! God's my life, stolen +hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare +vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to +say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go +about to expound this dream. Methought I was--there +is no man can tell what. Methought I was,--and +methought I had,--but man is but a patched fool, if +he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye +of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not +seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue +to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream +was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of +this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream, +because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the +latter end of a play, before the duke: +peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall +sing it at her death. +Exit + +SCENE II. Athens. QUINCE'S house. +Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING +QUINCE +Have you sent to Bottom's house ? is he come home yet? +STARVELING +He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt he is +transported. +FLUTE +If he come not, then the play is marred: it goes +not forward, doth it? +QUINCE +It is not possible: you have not a man in all +Athens able to discharge Pyramus but he. +FLUTE +No, he hath simply the best wit of any handicraft +man in Athens. +QUINCE +Yea and the best person too; and he is a very +paramour for a sweet voice. +FLUTE +You must say 'paragon:' a paramour is, God bless us, +a thing of naught. +Enter SNUG + +SNUG +Masters, the duke is coming from the temple, and +there is two or three lords and ladies more married: +if our sport had gone forward, we had all been made +men. +FLUTE +O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost sixpence a +day during his life; he could not have 'scaped +sixpence a day: an the duke had not given him +sixpence a day for playing Pyramus, I'll be hanged; +he would have deserved it: sixpence a day in +Pyramus, or nothing. +Enter BOTTOM + +BOTTOM +Where are these lads? where are these hearts? +QUINCE +Bottom! O most courageous day! O most happy hour! +BOTTOM +Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but ask me not +what; for if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I +will tell you every thing, right as it fell out. +QUINCE +Let us hear, sweet Bottom. +BOTTOM +Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is, that +the duke hath dined. Get your apparel together, +good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your +pumps; meet presently at the palace; every man look +o'er his part; for the short and the long is, our +play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have +clean linen; and let not him that plays the lion +pair his nails, for they shall hang out for the +lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions +nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I +do not doubt but to hear them say, it is a sweet +comedy. No more words: away! go, away! +Exeunt + +ACT V +SCENE I. Athens. The palace of THESEUS. +Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, Lords and Attendants +HIPPOLYTA +'Tis strange my Theseus, that these +lovers speak of. +THESEUS +More strange than true: I never may believe +These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. +Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, +Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend +More than cool reason ever comprehends. +The lunatic, the lover and the poet +Are of imagination all compact: +One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, +That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, +Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: +The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling, +Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; +And as imagination bodies forth +The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen +Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing +A local habitation and a name. +Such tricks hath strong imagination, +That if it would but apprehend some joy, +It comprehends some bringer of that joy; +Or in the night, imagining some fear, +How easy is a bush supposed a bear! +HIPPOLYTA +But all the story of the night told over, +And all their minds transfigured so together, +More witnesseth than fancy's images +And grows to something of great constancy; +But, howsoever, strange and admirable. +THESEUS +Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth. +Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA + +Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love +Accompany your hearts! +LYSANDER +More than to us +Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed! +THESEUS +Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have, +To wear away this long age of three hours +Between our after-supper and bed-time? +Where is our usual manager of mirth? +What revels are in hand? Is there no play, +To ease the anguish of a torturing hour? +Call Philostrate. +PHILOSTRATE +Here, mighty Theseus. +THESEUS +Say, what abridgement have you for this evening? +What masque? what music? How shall we beguile +The lazy time, if not with some delight? +PHILOSTRATE +There is a brief how many sports are ripe: +Make choice of which your highness will see first. +Giving a paper + +THESEUS +[Reads] 'The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung +By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.' +We'll none of that: that have I told my love, +In glory of my kinsman Hercules. +Reads + +'The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, +Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.' +That is an old device; and it was play'd +When I from Thebes came last a conqueror. +Reads + +'The thrice three Muses mourning for the death +Of Learning, late deceased in beggary.' +That is some satire, keen and critical, +Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. +Reads + +'A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus +And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.' +Merry and tragical! tedious and brief! +That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow. +How shall we find the concord of this discord? +PHILOSTRATE +A play there is, my lord, some ten words long, +Which is as brief as I have known a play; +But by ten words, my lord, it is too long, +Which makes it tedious; for in all the play +There is not one word apt, one player fitted: +And tragical, my noble lord, it is; +For Pyramus therein doth kill himself. +Which, when I saw rehearsed, I must confess, +Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears +The passion of loud laughter never shed. +THESEUS +What are they that do play it? +PHILOSTRATE +Hard-handed men that work in Athens here, +Which never labour'd in their minds till now, +And now have toil'd their unbreathed memories +With this same play, against your nuptial. +THESEUS +And we will hear it. +PHILOSTRATE +No, my noble lord; +It is not for you: I have heard it over, +And it is nothing, nothing in the world; +Unless you can find sport in their intents, +Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain, +To do you service. +THESEUS +I will hear that play; +For never anything can be amiss, +When simpleness and duty tender it. +Go, bring them in: and take your places, ladies. +Exit PHILOSTRATE + +HIPPOLYTA +I love not to see wretchedness o'er charged +And duty in his service perishing. +THESEUS +Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing. +HIPPOLYTA +He says they can do nothing in this kind. +THESEUS +The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing. +Our sport shall be to take what they mistake: +And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect +Takes it in might, not merit. +Where I have come, great clerks have purposed +To greet me with premeditated welcomes; +Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, +Make periods in the midst of sentences, +Throttle their practised accent in their fears +And in conclusion dumbly have broke off, +Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet, +Out of this silence yet I pick'd a welcome; +And in the modesty of fearful duty +I read as much as from the rattling tongue +Of saucy and audacious eloquence. +Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity +In least speak most, to my capacity. +Re-enter PHILOSTRATE + +PHILOSTRATE +So please your grace, the Prologue is address'd. +THESEUS +Let him approach. +Flourish of trumpets + +Enter QUINCE for the Prologue + +Prologue +If we offend, it is with our good will. +That you should think, we come not to offend, +But with good will. To show our simple skill, +That is the true beginning of our end. +Consider then we come but in despite. +We do not come as minding to contest you, +Our true intent is. All for your delight +We are not here. That you should here repent you, +The actors are at hand and by their show +You shall know all that you are like to know. +THESEUS +This fellow doth not stand upon points. +LYSANDER +He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows +not the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not +enough to speak, but to speak true. +HIPPOLYTA +Indeed he hath played on his prologue like a child +on a recorder; a sound, but not in government. +THESEUS +His speech, was like a tangled chain; nothing +impaired, but all disordered. Who is next? +Enter Pyramus and Thisbe, Wall, Moonshine, and Lion + +Prologue +Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show; +But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. +This man is Pyramus, if you would know; +This beauteous lady Thisby is certain. +This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present +Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder; +And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are content +To whisper. At the which let no man wonder. +This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn, +Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know, +By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn +To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. +This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name, +The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, +Did scare away, or rather did affright; +And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall, +Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain. +Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall, +And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain: +Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade, +He bravely broach'd is boiling bloody breast; +And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade, +His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, +Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain +At large discourse, while here they do remain. +Exeunt Prologue, Thisbe, Lion, and Moonshine + +THESEUS +I wonder if the lion be to speak. +DEMETRIUS +No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do. +Wall +In this same interlude it doth befall +That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; +And such a wall, as I would have you think, +That had in it a crannied hole or chink, +Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, +Did whisper often very secretly. +This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show +That I am that same wall; the truth is so: +And this the cranny is, right and sinister, +Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper. +THESEUS +Would you desire lime and hair to speak better? +DEMETRIUS +It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard +discourse, my lord. +Enter Pyramus + +THESEUS +Pyramus draws near the wall: silence! +Pyramus +O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black! +O night, which ever art when day is not! +O night, O night! alack, alack, alack, +I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot! +And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, +That stand'st between her father's ground and mine! +Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, +Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne! +Wall holds up his fingers + +Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for this! +But what see I? No Thisby do I see. +O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss! +Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me! +THESEUS +The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again. +Pyramus +No, in truth, sir, he should not. 'Deceiving me' +is Thisby's cue: she is to enter now, and I am to +spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will +fall pat as I told you. Yonder she comes. +Enter Thisbe + +Thisbe +O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans, +For parting my fair Pyramus and me! +My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones, +Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee. +Pyramus +I see a voice: now will I to the chink, +To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. Thisby! +Thisbe +My love thou art, my love I think. +Pyramus +Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace; +And, like Limander, am I trusty still. +Thisbe +And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill. +Pyramus +Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true. +Thisbe +As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you. +Pyramus +O kiss me through the hole of this vile wall! +Thisbe +I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all. +Pyramus +Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway? +Thisbe +'Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay. +Exeunt Pyramus and Thisbe + +Wall +Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so; +And, being done, thus Wall away doth go. +Exit + +THESEUS +Now is the mural down between the two neighbours. +DEMETRIUS +No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear +without warning. +HIPPOLYTA +This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard. +THESEUS +The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst +are no worse, if imagination amend them. +HIPPOLYTA +It must be your imagination then, and not theirs. +THESEUS +If we imagine no worse of them than they of +themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here +come two noble beasts in, a man and a lion. +Enter Lion and Moonshine + +Lion +You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear +The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, +May now perchance both quake and tremble here, +When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. +Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am +A lion-fell, nor else no lion's dam; +For, if I should as lion come in strife +Into this place, 'twere pity on my life. +THESEUS +A very gentle beast, of a good conscience. +DEMETRIUS +The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw. +LYSANDER +This lion is a very fox for his valour. +THESEUS +True; and a goose for his discretion. +DEMETRIUS +Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his +discretion; and the fox carries the goose. +THESEUS +His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; +for the goose carries not the fox. It is well: +leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon. +Moonshine +This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;-- +DEMETRIUS +He should have worn the horns on his head. +THESEUS +He is no crescent, and his horns are +invisible within the circumference. +Moonshine +This lanthorn doth the horned moon present; +Myself the man i' the moon do seem to be. +THESEUS +This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man +should be put into the lanthorn. How is it else the +man i' the moon? +DEMETRIUS +He dares not come there for the candle; for, you +see, it is already in snuff. +HIPPOLYTA +I am aweary of this moon: would he would change! +THESEUS +It appears, by his small light of discretion, that +he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all +reason, we must stay the time. +LYSANDER +Proceed, Moon. +Moonshine +All that I have to say, is, to tell you that the +lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this +thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog. +DEMETRIUS +Why, all these should be in the lanthorn; for all +these are in the moon. But, silence! here comes Thisbe. +Enter Thisbe + +Thisbe +This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love? +Lion +[Roaring] Oh-- +Thisbe runs off + +DEMETRIUS +Well roared, Lion. +THESEUS +Well run, Thisbe. +HIPPOLYTA +Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a +good grace. +The Lion shakes Thisbe's mantle, and exit + +THESEUS +Well moused, Lion. +LYSANDER +And so the lion vanished. +DEMETRIUS +And then came Pyramus. +Enter Pyramus + +Pyramus +Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; +I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright; +For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams, +I trust to take of truest Thisby sight. +But stay, O spite! +But mark, poor knight, +What dreadful dole is here! +Eyes, do you see? +How can it be? +O dainty duck! O dear! +Thy mantle good, +What, stain'd with blood! +Approach, ye Furies fell! +O Fates, come, come, +Cut thread and thrum; +Quail, crush, conclude, and quell! +THESEUS +This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would +go near to make a man look sad. +HIPPOLYTA +Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. +Pyramus +O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame? +Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear: +Which is--no, no--which was the fairest dame +That lived, that loved, that liked, that look'd +with cheer. +Come, tears, confound; +Out, sword, and wound +The pap of Pyramus; +Ay, that left pap, +Where heart doth hop: +Stabs himself + +Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. +Now am I dead, +Now am I fled; +My soul is in the sky: +Tongue, lose thy light; +Moon take thy flight: +Exit Moonshine + +Now die, die, die, die, die. +Dies + +DEMETRIUS +No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one. +LYSANDER +Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing. +THESEUS +With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover, and +prove an ass. +HIPPOLYTA +How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisbe comes +back and finds her lover? +THESEUS +She will find him by starlight. Here she comes; and +her passion ends the play. +Re-enter Thisbe + +HIPPOLYTA +Methinks she should not use a long one for such a +Pyramus: I hope she will be brief. +DEMETRIUS +A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which +Thisbe, is the better; he for a man, God warrant us; +she for a woman, God bless us. +LYSANDER +She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. +DEMETRIUS +And thus she means, videlicet:-- +Thisbe +Asleep, my love? +What, dead, my dove? +O Pyramus, arise! +Speak, speak. Quite dumb? +Dead, dead? A tomb +Must cover thy sweet eyes. +These My lips, +This cherry nose, +These yellow cowslip cheeks, +Are gone, are gone: +Lovers, make moan: +His eyes were green as leeks. +O Sisters Three, +Come, come to me, +With hands as pale as milk; +Lay them in gore, +Since you have shore +With shears his thread of silk. +Tongue, not a word: +Come, trusty sword; +Come, blade, my breast imbrue: +Stabs herself + +And, farewell, friends; +Thus Thisby ends: +Adieu, adieu, adieu. +Dies + +THESEUS +Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead. +DEMETRIUS +Ay, and Wall too. +BOTTOM +[Starting up] No assure you; the wall is down that +parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the +epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance between two +of our company? +THESEUS +No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no +excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all +dead, there needs none to be blamed. Marry, if he +that writ it had played Pyramus and hanged himself +in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine +tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably +discharged. But come, your Bergomask: let your +epilogue alone. +A dance + +The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve: +Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. +I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn +As much as we this night have overwatch'd. +This palpable-gross play hath well beguiled +The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed. +A fortnight hold we this solemnity, +In nightly revels and new jollity. +Exeunt + +Enter PUCK + +PUCK +Now the hungry lion roars, +And the wolf behowls the moon; +Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, +All with weary task fordone. +Now the wasted brands do glow, +Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, +Puts the wretch that lies in woe +In remembrance of a shroud. +Now it is the time of night +That the graves all gaping wide, +Every one lets forth his sprite, +In the church-way paths to glide: +And we fairies, that do run +By the triple Hecate's team, +From the presence of the sun, +Following darkness like a dream, +Now are frolic: not a mouse +Shall disturb this hallow'd house: +I am sent with broom before, +To sweep the dust behind the door. +Enter OBERON and TITANIA with their train + +OBERON +Through the house give gathering light, +By the dead and drowsy fire: +Every elf and fairy sprite +Hop as light as bird from brier; +And this ditty, after me, +Sing, and dance it trippingly. +TITANIA +First, rehearse your song by rote +To each word a warbling note: +Hand in hand, with fairy grace, +Will we sing, and bless this place. +Song and dance + +OBERON +Now, until the break of day, +Through this house each fairy stray. +To the best bride-bed will we, +Which by us shall blessed be; +And the issue there create +Ever shall be fortunate. +So shall all the couples three +Ever true in loving be; +And the blots of Nature's hand +Shall not in their issue stand; +Never mole, hare lip, nor scar, +Nor mark prodigious, such as are +Despised in nativity, +Shall upon their children be. +With this field-dew consecrate, +Every fairy take his gait; +And each several chamber bless, +Through this palace, with sweet peace; +And the owner of it blest +Ever shall in safety rest. +Trip away; make no stay; +Meet me all by break of day. +Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and train + +PUCK +If we shadows have offended, +Think but this, and all is mended, +That you have but slumber'd here +While these visions did appear. +And this weak and idle theme, +No more yielding but a dream, +Gentles, do not reprehend: +if you pardon, we will mend: +And, as I am an honest Puck, +If we have unearned luck +Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, +We will make amends ere long; +Else the Puck a liar call; +So, good night unto you all. +Give me your hands, if we be friends, +And Robin shall restore amends. diff --git a/examples/wordcount/works/othello.txt b/examples/wordcount/works/othello.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..21742ab --- /dev/null +++ b/examples/wordcount/works/othello.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5040 @@ + +***The Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's First Folio*** +**********The Tragedie of Othello, the Moore of Venice********** + +This is our 3rd edition of most of these plays. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie of Othello, +the Moore of Venice + + + + +Executive Director's Notes: + +In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all +the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have +been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they +are presented herein: + + Barnardo. Who's there? + Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold +your selfe + + Bar. Long liue the King + +*** + +As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words +or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the +original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling +to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions +that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u, +above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming +Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . . + +The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a +time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in +place of some "w"'s, etc. This was a common practice of the day, +as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend +more on a wider selection of characters than they had to. + +You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I +have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an +extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a +very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare. My father read an +assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University +in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the +purpose. To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available +. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes, +that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a +variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous +for signing his name with several different spellings. + +So, please take this into account when reading the comments below +made by our volunteer who prepared this file: you may see errors +that are "not" errors. . . . + +So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors, +here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie +of Othello, the Moore of Venice. + +Michael S. Hart +Project Gutenberg +Executive Director + + +*** + + +Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't. This was taken from +a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can +come in ASCII to the printed text. + +The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the +conjoined ae have been changed to ae. I have left the spelling, +punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the +printed text. I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put +together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the +Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified +spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded +abbreviations as I have come across them. Everything within +brackets [] is what I have added. So if you don't like that +you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a +purer Shakespeare. + +Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual +differences between various copies of the first folio. So there may +be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between +this and other first folio editions. This is due to the printer's +habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and +then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then +continuing the printing run. The proof run wasn't thrown away but +incorporated into the printed copies. This is just the way it is. +The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different +First Folio editions' best pages. + +If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation +errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel +free to email me those errors. I wish to make this the best +etext possible. My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com +and davidr@inconnect.com. I hope that you enjoy this. + +David Reed + +The Tragedie of Othello, the Moore of Venice + +Actus Primus. Scoena Prima. + +Enter Rodorigo, and Iago. + + Rodorigo. Neuer tell me, I take it much vnkindly +That thou (Iago) who hast had my purse, +As if y strings were thine, should'st know of this + + Ia. But you'l not heare me. If euer I did dream +Of such a matter, abhorre me + + Rodo. Thou told'st me, +Thou did'st hold him in thy hate + + Iago. Despise me +If I do not. Three Great-ones of the Cittie, +(In personall suite to make me his Lieutenant) +Off-capt to him: and by the faith of man +I know my price, I am worth no worsse a place. +But he (as louing his owne pride, and purposes) +Euades them, with a bumbast Circumstance, +Horribly stufft with Epithites of warre, +Non-suites my Mediators. For certes, saies he, +I haue already chose my Officer. And what was he? +For-sooth, a great Arithmatician, +One Michaell Cassio, a Florentine, +(A Fellow almost damn'd in a faire Wife) +That neuer set a Squadron in the Field, +Nor the deuision of a Battaile knowes +More then a Spinster. Vnlesse the Bookish Theoricke: +Wherein the Tongued Consuls can propose +As Masterly as he. Meere pratle (without practise) +Is all his Souldiership. But he (Sir) had th' election; +And I (of whom his eies had seene the proofe +At Rhodes, at Ciprus, and on others grounds +Christen'd, and Heathen) must be be-leed, and calm'd +By Debitor, and Creditor. This Counter-caster, +He (in good time) must his Lieutenant be, +And I (blesse the marke) his Mooreships Auntient + + Rod. By heauen, I rather would haue bin his hangman + + Iago. Why, there's no remedie. +'Tis the cursse of Seruice; +Preferment goes by Letter, and affection, +And not by old gradation, where each second +Stood Heire to'th' first. Now Sir, be iudge your selfe, +Whether I in any iust terme am Affin'd +To loue the Moore? + Rod. I would not follow him then + + Iago. O Sir content you. +I follow him, to serue my turne vpon him. +We cannot all be Masters, nor all Masters +Cannot be truely follow'd. You shall marke +Many a dutious and knee-crooking knaue; +That (doting on his owne obsequious bondage) +Weares out his time, much like his Masters Asse, +For naught but Prouender, & when he's old Casheer'd. +Whip me such honest knaues. Others there are +Who trym'd in Formes, and visages of Dutie, +Keepe yet their hearts attending on themselues, +And throwing but showes of Seruice on their Lords +Doe well thriue by them. +And when they haue lin'd their Coates +Doe themselues Homage. +These Fellowes haue some soule, +And such a one do I professe my selfe. For (Sir) +It is as sure as you are Rodorigo, +Were I the Moore, I would not be Iago: +In following him, I follow but my selfe. +Heauen is my Iudge, not I for loue and dutie, +But seeming so, for my peculiar end: +For when my outward Action doth demonstrate +The natiue act, and figure of my heart +In Complement externe, 'tis not long after +But I will weare my heart vpon my sleeue +For Dawes to pecke at; I am not what I am + + Rod. What a fall Fortune do's the Thicks-lips owe +If he can carry't thus? + Iago. Call vp her Father: +Rowse him, make after him, poyson his delight, +Proclaime him in the Streets. Incense her kinsmen, +And though he in a fertile Clymate dwell, +Plague him with Flies: though that his Ioy be Ioy, +Yet throw such chances of vexation on't, +As it may loose some colour + + Rodo. Heere is her Fathers house, Ile call aloud + + Iago. Doe, with like timerous accent, and dire yell, +As when (by Night and Negligence) the Fire +Is spied in populus Citties + + Rodo. What hoa: Brabantio, Signior Brabantio, hoa + + Iago. Awake: what hoa, Brabantio: Theeues, Theeues. +Looke to your house, your daughter, and your Bags, +Theeues, Theeues + + Bra. Aboue. What is the reason of this terrible +Summons? What is the matter there? + Rodo. Signior is all your Familie within? + Iago. Are your Doores lock'd? + Bra. Why? Wherefore ask you this? + Iago. Sir, y'are rob'd, for shame put on your Gowne, +Your heart is burst, you haue lost halfe your soule +Euen now, now, very now, an old blacke Ram +Is tupping your white Ewe. Arise, arise, +Awake the snorting Cittizens with the Bell, +Or else the deuill will make a Grand-sire of you. +Arise I say + + Bra. What, haue you lost your wits? + Rod. Most reuerend Signior, do you know my voice? + Bra. Not I: what are you? + Rod. My name is Rodorigo + + Bra. The worsser welcome: +I haue charg'd thee not to haunt about my doores: +In honest plainenesse thou hast heard me say, +My Daughter is not for thee. And now in madnesse +(Being full of Supper, and distempring draughtes) +Vpon malitious knauerie, dost thou come +To start my quiet + + Rod. Sir, Sir, Sir + + Bra. But thou must needs be sure, +My spirits and my place haue in their power +To make this bitter to thee + + Rodo. Patience good Sir + + Bra. What tell'st thou me of Robbing? +This is Venice: my house is not a Grange + + Rodo. Most graue Brabantio, +In simple and pure soule, I come to you + + Ia. Sir: you are one of those that will not serue God, +if the deuill bid you. Because we come to do you seruice, +and you thinke we are Ruffians, you'le haue your Daughter +couer'd with a Barbary horse, you'le haue your Nephewes +neigh to you, you'le haue Coursers for Cozens: +and Gennets for Germaines + + Bra. What prophane wretch art thou? + Ia. I am one Sir, that comes to tell you, your Daughter +and the Moore, are making the Beast with two backs + + Bra. Thou art a Villaine + + Iago. You are a Senator + + Bra. This thou shalt answere. I know thee Rodorigo + + Rod. Sir, I will answere any thing. But I beseech you +If't be your pleasure, and most wise consent, +(As partly I find it is) that your faire Daughter, +At this odde Euen and dull watch o'th' night +Transported with no worse nor better guard, +But with a knaue of common hire, a Gundelier, +To the grosse claspes of a Lasciuious Moore: +If this be knowne to you, and your Allowance, +We then haue done you bold, and saucie wrongs. +But if you know not this, my Manners tell me, +We haue your wrong rebuke. Do not beleeue +That from the sence of all Ciuilitie, +I thus would play and trifle with your Reuerence. +Your Daughter (if you haue not giuen her leaue) +I say againe, hath made a grosse reuolt, +Tying her Dutie, Beautie, Wit, and Fortunes +In an extrauagant, and wheeling Stranger, +Of here, and euery where: straight satisfie your selfe. +If she be in her Chamber, or your house, +Let loose on me the Iustice of the State +For thus deluding you + + Bra. Strike on the Tinder, hoa: +Giue me a Taper: call vp all my people, +This Accident is not vnlike my dreame, +Beleefe of it oppresses me alreadie. +Light, I say, light. +Enter. + + Iag. Farewell: for I must leaue you. +It seemes not meete, nor wholesome to my place +To be producted, (as if I stay, I shall,) +Against the Moore. For I do know the State, +(How euer this may gall him with some checke) +Cannot with safetie cast-him. For he's embark'd +With such loud reason to the Cyprus Warres, +(Which euen now stands in Act) that for their soules +Another of his Fadome, they haue none, +To lead their Businesse. In which regard, +Though I do hate him as I do hell paines, +Yet, for necessitie of present life, +I must show out a Flag, and signe of Loue, +(Which is indeed but signe) that you shal surely find him +Lead to the Sagitary the raised Search: +And there will I be with him. So farewell. + +Enter. + +Enter Brabantio, with Seruants and Torches. + + Bra. It is too true an euill. Gone she is, +And what's to come of my despised time, +Is naught but bitternesse. Now Rodorigo, +Where didst thou see her? (Oh vnhappie Girle) +With the Moore saist thou? (Who would be a Father?) +How didst thou know 'twas she? (Oh she deceaues me +Past thought:) what said she to you? Get moe Tapers. +Raise all my Kindred. Are they married thinke you? + Rodo. Truely I thinke they are + + Bra. Oh Heauen: how got she out? +Oh treason of the blood. +Fathers, from hence trust not your Daughters minds +By what you see them act. Is there not Charmes, +By which the propertie of Youth, and Maidhood +May be abus'd? Haue you not read Rodorigo, +Of some such thing? + Rod. Yes Sir: I haue indeed + + Bra. Call vp my Brother: oh would you had had her. +Some one way, some another. Doe you know +Where we may apprehend her, and the Moore? + Rod. I thinke I can discouer him, if you please +To get good Guard, and go along with me + + Bra. Pray you lead on. At euery house Ile call, +(I may command at most) get Weapons (hoa) +And raise some speciall Officers of might: +On good Rodorigo, I will deserue your paines. + +Exeunt. + + +Scena Secunda. + +Enter Othello, Iago, Attendants, with Torches. + + Ia. Though in the trade of Warre I haue slaine men, +Yet do I hold it very stuffe o'th' conscience +To do no contriu'd Murder: I lacke Iniquitie +Sometime to do me seruice. Nine, or ten times +I had thought t'haue yerk'd him here vnder the Ribbes + + Othello. 'Tis better as it is + + Iago. Nay but he prated, +And spoke such scuruy, and prouoking termes +Against your Honor, that with the little godlinesse I haue +I did full hard forbeare him. But I pray you Sir, +Are you fast married? Be assur'd of this, +That the Magnifico is much belou'd, +And hath in his effect a voice potentiall +As double as the Dukes: He will diuorce you. +Or put vpon you, what restraint or greeuance, +The Law (with all his might, to enforce it on) +Will giue him Cable + + Othel. Let him do his spight; +My Seruices, which I haue done the Signorie +Shall out-tongue his Complaints. 'Tis yet to know, +Which when I know, that boasting is an Honour, +I shall promulgate. I fetch my life and being, +From Men of Royall Seige. And my demerites +May speake (vnbonnetted) to as proud a Fortune +As this that I haue reach'd. For know Iago, +But that I loue the gentle Desdemona, +I would not my vnhoused free condition +Put into Circumscription, and Confine, +For the Seas worth. But looke, what Lights come yond? + +Enter Cassio, with Torches. + + Iago. Those are the raised Father, and his Friends: +You were best go in + + Othel. Not I: I must be found. +My Parts, my Title, and my perfect Soule +Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they? + Iago. By Ianus, I thinke no + + Othel. The Seruants of the Dukes? +And my Lieutenant? +The goodnesse of the Night vpon you (Friends) +What is the Newes? + Cassio. The Duke do's greet you (Generall) +And he requires your haste, Post-haste appearance, +Euen on the instant + + Othello. What is the matter, thinke you? + Cassio. Something from Cyprus, as I may diuine: +It is a businesse of some heate. The Gallies +Haue sent a dozen sequent Messengers +This very night, at one anothers heeles: +And many of the Consuls, rais'd and met, +Are at the Dukes already. You haue bin hotly call'd for, +When being not at your Lodging to be found, +The Senate hath sent about three seuerall Quests, +To search you out + + Othel. 'Tis well I am found by you: +I will but spend a word here in the house, +And goe with you + + Cassio. Aunciant, what makes he heere? + Iago. Faith, he to night hath boarded a Land Carract, +If it proue lawfull prize, he's made for euer + + Cassio. I do not vnderstand + + Iago. He's married + + Cassio. To who? + Iago. Marry to- Come Captaine, will you go? + Othel. Haue with you + + Cassio. Here comes another Troope to seeke for you. + +Enter Brabantio, Rodorigo, with Officers, and Torches. + + Iago. It is Brabantio: Generall be aduis'd, +He comes to bad intent + + Othello. Holla, stand there + + Rodo. Signior, it is the Moore + + Bra. Downe with him, Theefe + + Iago. You, Rodorigo? Come Sir, I am for you + + Othe. Keepe vp your bright Swords, for the dew will +rust them. Good Signior, you shall more command with +yeares, then with your Weapons + + Bra. Oh thou foule Theefe, +Where hast thou stow'd my Daughter? +Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchaunted her +For Ile referre me to all things of sense, +(If she in Chaines of Magick were not bound) +Whether a Maid, so tender, Faire, and Happie, +So opposite to Marriage, that she shun'd +The wealthy curled Deareling of our Nation, +Would euer haue (t' encurre a generall mocke) +Run from her Guardage to the sootie bosome, +Of such a thing as thou: to feare, not to delight? +Iudge me the world, if 'tis not grosse in sense, +That thou hast practis'd on her with foule Charmes, +Abus'd her delicate Youth, with Drugs or Minerals, +That weakens Motion. Ile haue't disputed on, +'Tis probable, and palpable to thinking; +I therefore apprehend and do attach thee, +For an abuser of the World, a practiser +Of Arts inhibited, and out of warrant; +Lay hold vpon him, if he do resist +Subdue him, at his perill + + Othe. Hold your hands +Both you of my inclining, and the rest. +Were it my Cue to fight, I should haue knowne it +Without a Prompter. Whether will you that I goe +To answere this your charge? + Bra. To Prison, till fit time +Of Law, and course of direct Session +Call thee to answer + + Othe. What if I do obey? +How may the Duke be therewith satisfi'd, +Whose Messengers are heere about my side, +Vpon some present businesse of the State, +To bring me to him + + Officer. 'Tis true most worthy Signior, +The Dukes in Counsell, and your Noble selfe, +I am sure is sent for + + Bra. How? The Duke in Counsell? +In this time of the night? Bring him away; +Mine's not an idle Cause. The Duke himselfe, +Or any of my Brothers of the State, +Cannot but feele this wrong, as 'twere their owne: +For if such Actions may haue passage free, +Bond-slaues, and Pagans shall our Statesmen be. + +Exeunt. + +Scaena Tertia. + +Enter Duke, Senators, and Officers. + + Duke. There's no composition in this Newes, +That giues them Credite + + 1.Sen. Indeed, they are disproportioned; +My Letters say, a Hundred and seuen Gallies + + Duke. And mine a Hundred fortie + + 2.Sena. And mine two Hundred: +But though they iumpe not on a iust accompt, +(As in these Cases where the ayme reports, +'Tis oft with difference) yet do they all confirme +A Turkish Fleete, and bearing vp to Cyprus + + Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to iudgement: +I do not so secure me in the Error, +But the maine Article I do approue +In fearefull sense + + Saylor within. What hoa, what hoa, what hoa. + +Enter Saylor. + + Officer. A Messenger from the Gallies + + Duke. Now? What's the businesse? + Sailor. The Turkish Preparation makes for Rhodes, +So was I bid report here to the State, +By Signior Angelo + + Duke. How say you by this change? + 1.Sen. This cannot be +By no assay of reason. 'Tis a Pageant +To keepe vs in false gaze, when we consider +Th' importancie of Cyprus to the Turke; +And let our selues againe but vnderstand, +That as it more concernes the Turke then Rhodes, +So may he with more facile question beare it, +For that it stands not in such Warrelike brace, +But altogether lackes th' abilities +That Rhodes is dress'd in. If we make thought of this, +We must not thinke the Turke is so vnskillfull, +To leaue that latest, which concernes him first, +Neglecting an attempt of ease, and gaine +To wake, and wage a danger profitlesse + + Duke. Nay, in all confidence he's not for Rhodes + + Officer. Here is more Newes. + +Enter a Messenger. + + Messen. The Ottamites, Reueren'd, and Gracious, +Steering with due course toward the Ile of Rhodes, +Haue there inioynted them with an after Fleete + + 1.Sen. I, so I thought: how many, as you guesse? + Mess. Of thirtie Saile: and now they do re-stem +Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance +Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano, +Your trustie and most Valiant Seruitour, +With his free dutie, recommends you thus, +And prayes you to beleeue him + + Duke. 'Tis certaine then for Cyprus: +Marcus Luccicos is not he in Towne? + 1.Sen. He's now in Florence + + Duke. Write from vs, +To him, Post, Post-haste, dispatch + + 1.Sen. Here comes Brabantio, and the Valiant Moore. + +Enter Brabantio, Othello, Cassio, Iago, Rodorigo, and Officers. + + Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you, +Against the generall Enemy Ottoman. +I did not see you: welcome gentle Signior, +We lack't your Counsaile, and your helpe to night + + Bra. So did I yours: Good your Grace pardon me. +Neither my place, nor ought I heard of businesse +Hath rais'd me from my bed; nor doth the generall care +Take hold on me. For my perticular griefe +Is of so flood-gate, and ore-bearing Nature, +That it engluts, and swallowes other sorrowes, +And it is still it selfe + + Duke. Why? What's the matter? + Bra. My Daughter: oh my Daughter! + Sen. Dead? + Bra. I, to me. +She is abus'd, stolne from me, and corrupted +By Spels, and Medicines, bought of Mountebanks; +For Nature, so prepostrously to erre, +(Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,) +Sans witch-craft could not + + Duke. Who ere he be, that in this foule proceeding +Hath thus beguil'd your Daughter of her selfe, +And you of her; the bloodie Booke of Law, +You shall your selfe read, in the bitter letter, +After your owne sense: yea, though our proper Son +Stood in your Action + + Bra. Humbly I thanke your Grace, +Here is the man; this Moore, whom now it seemes +Your speciall Mandate, for the State affaires +Hath hither brought + + All. We are verie sorry for't + + Duke. What in your owne part, can you say to this? + Bra. Nothing, but this is so + + Othe. Most Potent, Graue, and Reueren'd Signiors, +My very Noble, and approu'd good Masters; +That I haue tane away this old mans Daughter, +It is most true: true I haue married her; +The verie head, and front of my offending, +Hath this extent; no more. Rude am I, in my speech, +And little bless'd with the soft phrase of Peace; +For since these Armes of mine, had seuen yeares pith, +Till now, some nine Moones wasted, they haue vs'd +Their deerest action, in the Tented Field: +And little of this great world can I speake, +More then pertaines to Feats of Broiles, and Battaile, +And therefore little shall I grace my cause, +In speaking for my selfe. Yet, (by your gratious patience) +I will a round vn-varnish'd Tale deliuer, +Of my whole course of Loue. +What Drugges, what Charmes, +What Coniuration, and what mighty Magicke, +(For such proceeding I am charg'd withall) +I won his Daughter + + Bra. A Maiden, neuer bold: +Of Spirit so still, and quiet, that her Motion +Blush'd at her selfe, and she, in spight of Nature, +Of Yeares, of Country, Credite, euery thing +To fall in Loue, with what she fear'd to looke on; +It is a iudgement main'd, and most imperfect. +That will confesse Perfection so could erre +Against all rules of Nature, and must be driuen +To find out practises of cunning hell +Why this should be. I therefore vouch againe, +That with some Mixtures, powrefull o're the blood, +Or with some Dram, (coniur'd to this effect) +He wrought vpon her. +To vouch this, is no proofe, +Without more wider, and more ouer Test +Then these thin habits, and poore likely-hoods +Of moderne seeming, do prefer against him + + Sen. But Othello, speake, +Did you, by indirect, and forced courses +Subdue, and poyson this yong Maides affections? +Or came it by request, and such faire question +As soule, to soule affordeth? + Othel. I do beseech you, +Send for the Lady to the Sagitary, +And let her speake of me before her Father; +If you do finde me foule, in her report, +The Trust, the Office, I do hold of you, +Not onely take away, but let your Sentence +Euen fall vpon my life + + Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither + + Othe. Aunciant, conduct them: +You best know the place. +And tell she come, as truely as to heauen, +I do confesse the vices of my blood, +So iustly to your Graue eares, Ile present +How I did thriue in this faire Ladies loue, +And she in mine + + Duke. Say it Othello + + Othe. Her Father lou'd me, oft inuited me: +Still question'd me the Storie of my life, +From yeare to yeare: the Battaile, Sieges, Fortune, +That I haue past. +I ran it through, euen from my boyish daies, +Toth' very moment that he bad me tell it. +Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances: +Of mouing Accidents by Flood and Field, +Of haire-breadth scapes i'th' imminent deadly breach; +Of being taken by the Insolent Foe, +And sold to slauery. Of my redemption thence, +And portance in my Trauellours historie. +Wherein of Antars vast, and Desarts idle, +Rough Quarries, Rocks, Hills, whose head touch heauen, +It was my hint to speake. Such was my Processe, +And of the Canibals that each others eate, +The Antropophague, and men whose heads +Grew beneath their shoulders. These things to heare, +Would Desdemona seriously incline: +But still the house Affaires would draw her hence: +Which euer as she could with haste dispatch, +She'l'd come againe, and with a greedie eare +Deuoure vp my discourse. Which I obseruing, +Tooke once a pliant houre, and found good meanes +To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart, +That I would all my Pilgrimage dilate, +Whereof by parcels she had something heard, +But not instinctiuely: I did consent, +And often did beguile her of her teares, +When I did speake of some distressefull stroke +That my youth suffer'd: My Storie being done, +She gaue me for my paines a world of kisses: +She swore in faith 'twas strange: 'twas passing strange, +'Twas pittifull: 'twas wondrous pittifull. +She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd +That Heauen had made her such a man. She thank'd me, +And bad me, if I had a Friend that lou'd her, +I should but teach him how to tell my Story, +And that would wooe her. Vpon this hint I spake, +She lou'd me for the dangers I had past, +And I lou'd her, that she did pitty them. +This onely is the witch-craft I haue vs'd. +Here comes the Ladie: Let her witnesse it. + +Enter Desdemona, Iago, Attendants. + + Duke. I thinke this tale would win my Daughter too, +Good Brabantio, take vp this mangled matter at the best: +Men do their broken Weapons rather vse, +Then their bare hands + + Bra. I pray you heare her speake? +If she confesse that she was halfe the wooer, +Destruction on my head, if my bad blame +Light on the man. Come hither gentle Mistris, +Do you perceiue in all this Noble Companie, +Where most you owe obedience? + Des. My Noble Father, +I do perceiue heere a diuided dutie. +To you I am bound for life, and education: +My life and education both do learne me, +How to respect you. You are the Lord of duty, +I am hitherto your Daughter. But heere's my Husband; +And so much dutie, as my Mother shew'd +To you, preferring you before her Father: +So much I challenge, that I may professe +Due to the Moore my Lord + + Bra. God be with you: I haue done. +Please it your Grace, on to the State Affaires; +I had rather to adopt a Child, then get it. +Come hither Moore; +I here do giue thee that with all my heart, +Which but thou hast already, with all my heart +I would keepe from thee. For your sake (Iewell) +I am glad at soule, I haue no other Child, +For thy escape would teach me Tirranie +To hang clogges on them. I haue done my Lord + + Duke. Let me speake like your selfe: +And lay a Sentence, +Which as a grise, or step may helpe these Louers. +When remedies are past, the griefes are ended +By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended. +To mourne a Mischeefe that is past and gon, +Is the next way to draw new mischiefe on. +What cannot be preseru'd, when Fortune takes: +Patience, her Iniury a mock'ry makes. +The rob'd that smiles, steales something from the Thiefe, +He robs himselfe, that spends a bootelesse griefe + + Bra. So let the Turke of Cyprus vs beguile, +We loose it not so long as we can smile: +He beares the Sentence well, that nothing beares, +But the free comfort which from thence he heares. +But he beares both the Sentence, and the sorrow, +That to pay griefe, must of poore Patience borrow. +These Sentences, to Sugar, or to Gall, +Being strong on both sides, are Equiuocall. +But words are words, I neuer yet did heare: +That the bruized heart was pierc'd through the eares. +I humbly beseech you proceed to th' Affaires of State + + Duke. The Turke with a most mighty Preparation +makes for Cyprus: Othello, the Fortitude of the place is +best knowne to you. And though we haue there a Substitute +of most allowed sufficiencie; yet opinion, a more +soueraigne Mistris of Effects, throwes a more safer +voice on you: you must therefore be content to slubber +the glosse of your new Fortunes, with this more stubborne, +and boystrous expedition + + Othe. The Tirant Custome, most Graue Senators, +Hath made the flinty and Steele Coach of Warre +My thrice-driuen bed of Downe. I do agnize +A Naturall and prompt Alacratie, +I finde in hardnesse: and do vndertake +This present Warres against the Ottamites. +Most humbly therefore bending to your State, +I craue fit disposition for my Wife, +Due reference of Place, and Exhibition, +With such Accomodation and besort +As leuels with her breeding + + Duke. Why at her Fathers? + Bra. I will not haue it so + + Othe. Nor I + + Des. Nor would I there recide, +To put my Father in impatient thoughts +By being in his eye. Most Gracious Duke, +To my vnfolding, lend your prosperous eare, +And let me finde a Charter in your voice +T' assist my simplenesse + + Duke. What would you Desdemona? + Des. That I loue the Moore, to liue with him, +My downe-right violence, and storme of Fortunes, +May trumpet to the world. My heart's subdu'd +Euen to the very quality of my Lord; +I saw Othello's visage in his mind, +And to his Honours and his valiant parts, +Did I my soule and Fortunes consecrate. +So that (deere Lords) if I be left behind +A Moth of Peace, and he go to the Warre, +The Rites for why I loue him, are bereft me: +And I a heauie interim shall support +By his deere absence. Let me go with him + + Othe. Let her haue your voice. +Vouch with me Heauen, I therefore beg it not +To please the pallate of my Appetite: +Nor to comply with heat the yong affects +In my defunct, and proper satisfaction. +But to be free, and bounteous to her minde: +And Heauen defend your good soules, that you thinke +I will your serious and great businesse scant +When she is with me. No, when light wing'd Toyes +Of feather'd Cupid, seele with wanton dulnesse +My speculatiue, and offic'd Instrument: +That my Disports corrupt, and taint my businesse: +Let House-wiues make a Skillet of my Helme, +And all indigne, and base aduersities, +Make head against my Estimation + + Duke. Be it as you shall priuately determine, +Either for her stay, or going: th' Affaire cries hast: +And speed must answer it + + Sen. You must away to night + + Othe. With all my heart + + Duke. At nine i'th' morning, here wee'l meete againe. +Othello, leaue some Officer behind +And he shall our Commission bring to you: +And such things else of qualitie and respect +As doth import you + + Othe. So please your Grace, my Ancient, +A man he is of honesty and trust: +To his conueyance I assigne my wife, +With what else needfull, your good Grace shall think +To be sent after me + + Duke. Let it be so: +Good night to euery one. And Noble Signior, +If Vertue no delighted Beautie lacke, +Your Son-in-law is farre more Faire then Blacke + + Sen. Adieu braue Moore, vse Desdemona well + + Bra. Looke to her (Moore) if thou hast eies to see: +She ha's deceiu'd her Father, and may thee. +Enter. + + Othe. My life vpon her faith. Honest Iago, +My Desdemona must I leaue to thee: +I prythee let thy wife attend on her, +And bring them after in the best aduantage. +Come Desdemona, I haue but an houre +Of Loue, of wordly matter, and direction +To spend with thee. We must obey the time. +Enter. + + Rod. Iago + + Iago. What saist thou Noble heart? + Rod. What will I do, think'st thou? + Iago. Why go to bed and sleepe + + Rod. I will incontinently drowne my selfe + + Iago. If thou do'st, I shall neuer loue thee after. Why +thou silly Gentleman? + Rod. It is sillynesse to liue, when to liue is torment: +and then haue we a prescription to dye, when death is +our Physition + + Iago. Oh villanous: I haue look'd vpon the world +for foure times seuen yeares, and since I could distinguish +betwixt a Benefit, and an Iniurie: I neuer found man that +knew how to loue himselfe. Ere I would say, I would +drowne my selfe for the loue of a Gynney Hen, I would +change my Humanity with a Baboone + + Rod. What should I do? I confesse it is my shame +to be so fond, but it is not in my vertue to amend it + + Iago. Vertue? A figge, 'tis in our selues that we are +thus, or thus. Our Bodies are our Gardens, to the which, +our Wills are Gardiners. So that if we will plant Nettels, +or sowe Lettice: Set Hisope, and weede vp Time: +Supplie it with one gender of Hearbes, or distract it with +many: either to haue it sterrill with idlenesse, or manured +with Industry, why the power, and Corrigeable authoritie +of this lies in our Wills. If the braine of our liues +had not one Scale of Reason, to poize another of Sensualitie, +the blood, and basenesse of our Natures would +conduct vs to most prepostrous Conclusions. But we +haue Reason to coole our raging Motions, our carnall +Stings, or vnbitted Lusts: whereof I take this, that you +call Loue, to be a Sect, or Seyen + + Rod. It cannot be + + Iago. It is meerly a Lust of the blood, and a permission +of the will. Come, be a man: drowne thy selfe? Drown +Cats, and blind Puppies. I haue profest me thy Friend, +and I confesse me knit to thy deseruing, with Cables of +perdurable toughnesse. I could neuer better steed thee +then now. Put Money in thy purse: follow thou the +Warres, defeate thy fauour, with an vsurp'd Beard. I say +put Money in thy purse. It cannot be long that Desdemona +should continue her loue to the Moore. Put Money in +thy purse: nor he his to her. It was a violent Commencement +in her, and thou shalt see an answerable Sequestration, +put but Money in thy purse. These Moores +are changeable in their wils: fill thy purse with Money. +The Food that to him now is as lushious as Locusts, +shalbe to him shortly, as bitter as Coloquintida. She +must change for youth: when she is sated with his body +she will find the errors of her choice. Therefore, put Money +in thy purse. If thou wilt needs damne thy selfe, do +it a more delicate way then drowning. Make all the Money +thou canst: If Sanctimonie, and a fraile vow, betwixt +an erring Barbarian, and super-subtle Venetian be +not too hard for my wits, and all the Tribe of hell, thou +shalt enioy her: therefore make Money: a pox of drowning +thy selfe, it is cleane out of the way. Seeke thou rather +to be hang'd in Compassing thy ioy, then to be +drown'd, and go without her + + Rodo. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on +the issue? + Iago. Thou art sure of me: Go make Money: I haue +told thee often, and I re-tell thee againe, and againe, I +hate the Moore. My cause is hearted; thine hath no lesse +reason. Let vs be coniunctiue in our reuenge, against +him. If thou canst Cuckold him, thou dost thy selfe a +pleasure, me a sport. There are many Euents in the +Wombe of Time, which wilbe deliuered. Trauerse, go, +prouide thy Money. We will haue more of this to morrow. +Adieu + + Rod. Where shall we meete i'th' morning? + Iago. At my Lodging + + Rod. Ile be with thee betimes + + Iago. Go too, farewell. Do you heare Rodorigo? + Rod. Ile sell all my Land. +Enter. + + Iago. Thus do I euer make my Foole, my purse: +For I mine owne gain'd knowledge should prophane +If I would time expend with such Snipe, +But for my Sport, and Profit: I hate the Moore, +And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets +She ha's done my Office. I know not if't be true, +But I, for meere suspition in that kinde, +Will do, as if for Surety. He holds me well, +The better shall my purpose worke on him: +Cassio's a proper man: Let me see now, +To get his Place, and to plume vp my will +In double Knauery. How? How? Let's see. +After some time, to abuse Othello's eares, +That he is too familiar with his wife: +He hath a person, and a smooth dispose +To be suspected: fram'd to make women false. +The Moore is of a free, and open Nature, +That thinkes men honest, that but seeme to be so, +And will as tenderly be lead by'th' Nose +As Asses are: +I hau't: it is engendred: Hell, and Night, +Must bring this monstrous Birth, to the worlds light. + +Actus Secundus. Scena Prima. + +Enter Montano, and two Gentlemen. + + Mon. What from the Cape, can you discerne at Sea? + 1.Gent. Nothing at all, it is a high wrought Flood: +I cannot 'twixt the Heauen, and the Maine, +Descry a Saile + + Mon. Me thinks, the wind hath spoke aloud at Land, +A fuller blast ne're shooke our Battlements: +If it hath ruffiand so vpon the Sea, +What ribbes of Oake, when Mountaines melt on them, +Can hold the Morties. What shall we heare of this? + 2 A Segregation of the Turkish Fleet: +For do but stand vpon the Foaming Shore, +The chidden Billow seemes to pelt the Clowds, +The winde-shak'd-Surge, with high & monstrous Maine +Seemes to cast water on the burning Beare, +And quench the Guards of th' euer-fixed Pole: +I neuer did like mollestation view +On the enchafed Flood + + Men. If that the Turkish Fleete +Be not enshelter'd, and embay'd, they are drown'd, +It is impossible to beare it out. +Enter a Gentleman. + + 3 Newes Laddes: our warres are done: +The desperate Tempest hath so bang'd the Turkes, +That their designement halts. A Noble ship of Venice, +Hath seene a greeuous wracke and sufferance +On most part of their Fleet + + Mon. How? Is this true? + 3 The Ship is heere put in: A Verennessa, Michael Cassio +Lieutenant to the warlike Moore, Othello, +Is come on Shore: the Moore himselfe at Sea, +And is in full Commission heere for Cyprus + + Mon. I am glad on't: +'Tis a worthy Gouernour + + 3 But this same Cassio, though he speake of comfort, +Touching the Turkish losse, yet he lookes sadly, +And praye the Moore be safe; for they were parted +With fowle and violent Tempest + + Mon. Pray Heauens he be: +For I haue seru'd him, and the man commands +Like a full Soldier. Let's to the Sea-side (hoa) +As well to see the Vessell that's come in, +As to throw-out our eyes for braue Othello, +Euen till we make the Maine, and th' Eriall blew, +An indistinct regard + + Gent. Come, let's do so; +For euery Minute is expectancie +Of more Arriuancie. +Enter Cassio. + + Cassi. Thankes you, the valiant of the warlike Isle, +That so approoue the Moore: Oh let the Heauens +Giue him defence against the Elements, +For I haue lost him on a dangerous Sea + + Mon. Is he well ship'd? + Cassio. His Barke is stoutly Timber'd, and his Pylot +Of verie expert, and approu'd Allowance; +Therefore my hope's (not surfetted to death) +Stand in bold Cure + + Within. A Saile, a Saile, a Saile + + Cassio. What noise? + Gent. The Towne is empty; on the brow o'th' Sea +Stand rankes of People and they cry, a Saile + + Cassio. My hopes do shape him for the Gouernor + + Gent. They do discharge their Shot of Courtesie, +Our Friends, at least + + Cassio. I pray you Sir, go forth, +And giue vs truth who 'tis that is arriu'd + + Gent. I shall. +Enter. + + Mon. But good Lieutenant, is your Generall wiu'd? + Cassio. Most fortunately: he hath atchieu'd a Maid +That paragons description, and wilde Fame: +One that excels the quirkes of Blazoning pens, +And in th' essentiall Vesture of Creation, +Do's tyre the Ingeniuer. +Enter Gentleman. + +How now? Who ha's put in? + Gent. 'Tis one Iago, Auncient to the Generall + + Cassio. Ha's had most fauourable, and happie speed: +Tempests themselues, high Seas, and howling windes, +The gutter'd-Rockes, and Congregated Sands, +Traitors ensteep'd, to enclogge the guiltlesse Keele, +As hauing sence of Beautie, do omit +Their mortall Natures, letting go safely by +The Diuine Desdemona + + Mon. What is she? + Cassio. She that I spake of: +Our great Captains Captaine, +Left in the conduct of the bold Iago, +Whose footing heere anticipates our thoughts, +A Senights speed. Great Ioue, Othello guard, +And swell his Saile with thine owne powrefull breath, +That he may blesse this Bay with his tall Ship, +Make loues quicke pants in Desdemonaes Armes, +Giue renew'd fire to our extincted Spirits. + +Enter Desdemona, Iago, Rodorigo, and Aemilia. + +Oh behold, +The Riches of the Ship is come on shore: +You men of Cyprus, let her haue your knees. +Haile to thee Ladie: and the grace of Heauen, +Before, behinde thee, and on euery hand +Enwheele thee round + + Des. I thanke you, Valiant Cassio, +What tydings can you tell of my Lord? + Cas. He is not yet arriu'd, nor know I ought +But that he's well, and will be shortly heere + + Des. Oh, but I feare: +How lost you company? + Cassio. The great Contention of Sea, and Skies +Parted our fellowship. But hearke, a Saile + + Within. A Saile, a Saile + + Gent. They giue this greeting to the Cittadell: +This likewise is a Friend + + Cassio. See for the Newes: +Good Ancient, you are welcome. Welcome Mistris: +Let it not gaule your patience (good Iago) +That I extend my Manners. 'Tis my breeding, +That giues me this bold shew of Curtesie + + Iago. Sir, would she giue you so much of her lippes, +As of her tongue she oft bestowes on me, +You would haue enough + + Des. Alas: she ha's no speech + + Iago. Infaith too much: +I finde it still, when I haue leaue to sleepe. +Marry before your Ladyship, I grant, +She puts her tongue a little in her heart, +And chides with thinking + + aemil. You haue little cause to say so + + Iago. Come on, come on: you are Pictures out of +doore: Bells in your Parlours: Wilde-Cats in your Kitchens: +Saints in your Iniuries: Diuels being offended: +Players in your Huswiferie, and Huswiues in your +Beds + + Des. Oh, fie vpon thee, Slanderer + + Iago. Nay, it is true: or else I am a Turke, +You rise to play, and go to bed to worke. +Aemil. You shall not write my praise + + Iago. No, let me not + + Desde. What would'st write of me, if thou should'st +praise me? + Iago. Oh, gentle Lady, do not put me too't, +For I am nothing, if not Criticall + + Des. Come on, assay. +There's one gone to the Harbour? + Iago. I Madam + + Des. I am not merry: but I do beguile +The thing I am, by seeming otherwise. +Come, how would'st thou praise me? + Iago. I am about it, but indeed my inuention comes +from my pate, as Birdlyme do's from Freeze, it pluckes +out Braines and all. But my Muse labours, and thus she +is deliuer'd. +If she be faire, and wise: fairenesse, and wit, +The ones for vse, the other vseth it + + Des. Well prais'd: +How if she be Blacke and Witty? + Iago. If she be blacke, and thereto haue a wit, +She'le find a white, that shall her blacknesse fit + + Des. Worse, and worse. +Aemil. How if Faire, and Foolish? + Iago. She neuer yet was foolish that was faire, +For euen her folly helpt her to an heire + + Desde. These are old fond Paradoxes, to make Fooles +laugh i'th' Alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou +for her that's Foule, and Foolish + + Iago. There's none so foule and foolish thereunto, +But do's foule pranks, which faire, and wise-ones do + + Desde. Oh heauy ignorance: thou praisest the worst +best. But what praise could'st thou bestow on a deseruing +woman indeed? One, that in the authorithy of her +merit, did iustly put on the vouch of very malice it +selfe + + Iago. She that was euer faire, and neuer proud, +Had Tongue at will, and yet was neuer loud: +Neuer lackt Gold, and yet went neuer gay, +Fled from her wish, and yet said now I may. +She that being angred, her reuenge being nie, +Bad her wrong stay, and her displeasure flie: +She that in wisedome neuer was so fraile, +To change the Cods-head for the Salmons taile: +She that could thinke, and neu'r disclose her mind, +See Suitors following, and not looke behind: +She was a wight, (if euer such wightes were) + Des. To do what? + Iago. To suckle Fooles, and chronicle small Beere + + Desde. Oh most lame and impotent conclusion. Do +not learne of him aemillia, though he be thy husband. +How say you (Cassio) is he not a most prophane, and liberall +Counsailor? + Cassio. He speakes home (Madam) you may rellish +him more in the Souldier, then in the Scholler + + Iago. He takes her by the palme: I, well said, whisper. +With as little a web as this, will I ensnare as great +a Fly as Cassio. I smile vpon her, do: I will giue thee +in thine owne Courtship. You say true, 'tis so indeed. +If such tricks as these strip you out of your Lieutenantrie, +it had beene better you had not kiss'd your three fingers +so oft, which now againe you are most apt to play +the Sir, in. Very good: well kiss'd, and excellent Curtsie: +'tis so indeed. Yet againe, your fingers to your +lippes? Would they were Cluster-pipes for your +sake. +The Moore I know his Trumpet + + Cassio. 'Tis truely so + + Des. Let's meete him, and recieue him + + Cassio. Loe, where he comes. +Enter Othello, and Attendants. + + Oth. O, my faire Warriour + + Des. My deere Othello + + Othe. It giues me wonder great, as my content +To see you heere before me. +Oh my Soules Ioy: +If after euery Tempest, come such Calmes, +May the windes blow, till they haue waken'd death: +And let the labouring Barke climbe hills of Seas +Olympus high: and duck againe as low, +As hell's from Heauen. If it were now to dye, +'Twere now to be most happy. For I feare, +My Soule hath her content so absolute, +That not another comfort like to this, +Succeedes in vnknowne Fate + + Des. The Heauens forbid +But that our Loues +And Comforts should encrease +Euen as our dayes do grow + + Othe. Amen to that (sweet Powers) +I cannot speake enough of this content, +It stoppes me heere: it is too much of ioy. +And this, and this the greatest discords be +That ere our hearts shall make + + Iago. Oh you are well tun'd now: But Ile set downe +the peggs that make this Musicke, as honest as I am + + Othe. Come: let vs to the Castle. +Newes (Friends) our Warres are done: +The Turkes are drown'd. +How do's my old Acquaintance of this Isle? +(Hony) you shall be well desir'd in Cyprus, +I haue found great loue among'st them. Oh my Sweet, +I prattle out of fashion, and I doate +In mine owne comforts. I prythee, good Iago, +Go to the Bay, and disimbarke my Coffers: +Bring thou the Master to the Cittadell, +He is a good one, and his worthynesse +Do's challenge much respect. Come Desdemona, +Once more well met at Cyprus. + +Exit Othello and Desdemona. + + Iago. Do thou meet me presently at the Harbour. +Come thither, if thou be'st Valiant, (as they say base men +being in Loue, haue then a Nobilitie in their Natures, +more then is natiue to them) list-me; the Lieutenant to +night watches on the Court of Guard. First, I must tell +thee this: Desdemona, is directly in loue with him + + Rod. With him? Why, 'tis not possible + + Iago. Lay thy finger thus: and let thy soule be instructed. +Marke me with what violence she first lou'd +the Moore, but for bragging, and telling her fantasticall +lies. To loue him still for prating, let not thy discreet +heart thinke it. Her eye must be fed. And what delight +shall she haue to looke on the diuell? When the Blood +is made dull with the Act of Sport, there should be a +game to enflame it, and to giue Satiety a fresh appetite. +Louelinesse in fauour, simpathy in yeares, Manners, +and Beauties: all which the Moore is defectiue in. Now +for want of these requir'd Conueniences, her delicate +tendernesse wil finde it selfe abus'd, begin to heaue the, +gorge, disrellish and abhorre the Moore, very Nature wil +instruct her in it, and compell her to some second choice. +Now Sir, this granted (as it is a most pregnant and vnforc'd +position) who stands so eminent in the degree of +this Fortune, as Cassio do's: a knaue very voluble: no +further conscionable, then in putting on the meere forme +of Ciuill, and Humaine seeming, for the better compasse +of his salt, and most hidden loose Affection? Why none, +why none: A slipper, and subtle knaue, a finder of occasion: +that he's an eye can stampe, and counterfeit Aduantages, +though true Aduantage neuer present it selfe. +A diuelish knaue: besides, the knaue is handsome, young: +and hath all those requisites in him, that folly and greene +mindes looke after. A pestilent compleat knaue, and the +woman hath found him already + + Rodo. I cannot beleeue that in her, she's full of most +bless'd condition + + Iago. Bless'd figges-end. The Wine she drinkes is +made of grapes. If shee had beene bless'd, shee would +neuer haue lou'd the Moore: Bless'd pudding. Didst thou +not see her paddle with the palme of his hand? Didst not +marke that? + Rod. Yes, that I did: but that was but curtesie + + Iago . Leacherie by this hand: an Index, and obscure +prologue to the History of Lust and foule Thoughts. +They met so neere with their lippes, that their breathes +embrac'd together. Villanous thoughts Rodorigo, when +these mutabilities so marshall the way, hard at hand +comes the Master, and maine exercise, th' incorporate +conclusion: Pish. But Sir, be you rul'd by me. I haue +brought you from Venice. Watch you to night: for +the Command, Ile lay't vpon you. Cassio knowes you +not: Ile not be farre from you. Do you finde some occasion +to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or +tainting his discipline, or from what other course +you please, which the time shall more fauorably minister + + Rod. Well + + Iago. Sir, he's rash, and very sodaine in Choller: and +happely may strike at you, prouoke him that he may: for +euen out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to Mutiny. +Whose qualification shall come into no true taste againe, +but by the displanting of Cassio. So shall you +haue a shorter iourney to your desires, by the meanes I +shall then haue to preferre them. And the impediment +most profitably remoued, without the which there were +no expectation of our prosperitie + + Rodo. I will do this, if you can bring it to any opportunity + + Iago. I warrant thee. Meete me by and by at the +Cittadell. I must fetch his Necessaries a Shore. Farewell + + Rodo. Adieu. +Enter. + + Iago. That Cassio loues her, I do well beleeu't: +That she loues him, 'tis apt, and of great Credite. +The Moore (howbeit that I endure him not) +Is of a constant, louing, Noble Nature, +And I dare thinke, he'le proue to Desdemona +A most deere husband. Now I do loue her too, +Not out of absolute Lust, (though peraduenture +I stand accomptant for as great a sin) +But partely led to dyet my Reuenge, +For that I do suspect the lustie Moore +Hath leap'd into my Seate. The thought whereof, +Doth (like a poysonous Minerall) gnaw my Inwardes: +And nothing can, or shall content my Soule +Till I am eeuen'd with him, wife, for wife. +Or fayling so, yet that I put the Moore, +At least into a Ielouzie so strong +That iudgement cannot cure. Which thing to do, +If this poore Trash of Venice, whom I trace +For his quicke hunting, stand the putting on, +Ile haue our Michael Cassio on the hip, +Abuse him to the Moore, in the right garbe +(For I feare Cassio with my Night-Cape too) +Make the Moore thanke me, loue me, and reward me, +For making him egregiously an Asse, +And practising vpon his peace, and quiet, +Euen to madnesse. 'Tis heere: but yet confus'd, +Knaueries plaine face, is neuer seene, till vs'd. +Enter. + + +Scena Secunda. + +Enter Othello's Herald with a Proclamation. + + Herald. It is Othello's pleasure, our Noble and Valiant +Generall. That vpon certaine tydings now arriu'd, +importing the meere perdition of the Turkish Fleete: +euery man put himselfe into Triumph. Some to daunce, +some to make Bonfires, each man, to what Sport and +Reuels his addition leads him. For besides these beneficiall +Newes, it is the Celebration of his Nuptiall. So +much was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices +are open, & there is full libertie of Feasting from this +present houre of fiue, till the Bell haue told eleuen. +Blesse the Isle of Cyprus, and our Noble Generall Othello. +Enter. + +Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants. + + Othe. Good Michael, looke you to the guard to night. +Let's teach our selues that Honourable stop, +Not to out-sport discretion + + Cas. Iago, hath direction what to do. +But notwithstanding with my personall eye +Will I looke to't + + Othe. Iago, is most honest: +Michael, goodnight. To morrow with your earliest, +Let me haue speech with you. Come my deere Loue, +The purchase made, the fruites are to ensue, +That profit's yet to come 'tweene me, and you. +Goodnight. +Enter. + +Enter Iago. + + Cas. Welcome Iago: we must to the Watch + + Iago. Not this houre Lieutenant: 'tis not yet ten +o'th' clocke. Our Generall cast vs thus earely for the +loue of his Desdemona: Who, let vs not therefore blame; +he hath not yet made wanton the night with her: and +she is sport for Ioue + + Cas. She's a most exquisite Lady + + Iago. And Ile warrant her, full of Game + + Cas. Indeed shes a most fresh and delicate creature + + Iago. What an eye she ha's? +Me thinkes it sounds a parley to prouocation + + Cas. An inuiting eye: +And yet me thinkes right modest + + Iago. And when she speakes, +Is it not an Alarum to Loue? + Cas. She is indeed perfection + + Iago. Well: happinesse to their Sheetes. Come Lieutenant, +I haue a stope of Wine, and heere without are a +brace of Cyprus Gallants, that would faine haue a measure +to the health of blacke Othello + + Cas. Not to night, good Iago, I haue very poore, +and vnhappie Braines for drinking. I could well wish +Curtesie would inuent some other Custome of entertainment + + Iago. Oh, they are our Friends: but one Cup, Ile +drinke for you + + Cassio. I haue drunke but one Cup to night, and that +was craftily qualified too: and behold what inouation +it makes heere. I am infortunate in the infirmity, and +dare not taske my weakenesse with any more + + Iago. What man? 'Tis a night of Reuels, the Gallants +desire it + + Cas. Where are they? + Iago. Heere, at the doore: I pray you call them in + + Cas. Ile do't, but it dislikes me. +Enter. + + Iago. If I can fasten but one Cup vpon him +With that which he hath drunke to night alreadie, +He'l be as full of Quarrell, and offence +As my yong Mistris dogge. +Now my sicke Foole Rodorigo, +Whom Loue hath turn'd almost the wrong side out, +To Desdemona hath to night Carrows'd. +Potations, pottle-deepe; and he's to watch. +Three else of Cyprus, Noble swelling Spirites, +(That hold their Honours in a wary distance, +The very Elements of this Warrelike Isle) +Haue I to night fluster'd with flowing Cups, +And they Watch too. +Now 'mongst this Flocke of drunkards +Am I put to our Cassio in some Action +That may offend the Isle. But here they come. +Enter Cassio, Montano, and Gentlemen. + +If Consequence do but approue my dreame, +My Boate sailes freely, both with winde and Streame + + Cas. 'Fore heauen, they haue giuen me a rowse already + + Mon. Good-faith a litle one: not past a pint, as I am a +Souldier + + Iago. Some Wine hoa. +And let me the Cannakin clinke, clinke: +And let me the Cannakin clinke. +A Souldiers a man: Oh, mans life's but a span, +Why then let a Souldier drinke. +Some Wine Boyes + + Cas. 'Fore Heauen: an excellent Song + + Iago. I learn'd it in England: where indeed they are +most potent in Potting. Your Dane, your Germaine, +and your swag-belly'd Hollander, (drinke hoa) are +nothing to your English + + Cassio. Is your Englishmen so exquisite in his drinking? + Iago. Why, he drinkes you with facillitie, your Dane +dead drunke. He sweates not to ouerthrow your Almaine. +He giues your Hollander a vomit, ere the next +Pottle can be fill'd + + Cas. To the health of our Generall + + Mon. I am for it Lieutenant: and Ile do you Iustice + + Iago. Oh sweet England. +King Stephen was anda worthy Peere, +His Breeches cost him but a Crowne, +He held them Six pence all to deere, +With that he cal'd the Tailor Lowne: +He was a wight of high Renowne, +And thou art but of low degree: +'Tis Pride that pulls the Country downe, +And take thy awl'd Cloake about thee. +Some Wine hoa + + Cassio. Why this is a more exquisite Song then the other + + Iago. Will you heare't againe? + Cas. No: for I hold him to be vnworthy of his Place, +that do's those things. Well: heau'ns aboue all: and +there be soules must be saued, and there be soules must +not be saued + + Iago. It's true, good Lieutenant + + Cas. For mine owne part, no offence to the Generall, +nor any man of qualitie: I hope to be saued + + Iago. And so do I too Lieutenant + + Cassio. I: (but by your leaue) not before me. The +Lieutenant is to be saued before the Ancient. Let's haue +no more of this: let's to our Affaires. Forgiue vs our +sinnes: Gentlemen let's looke to our businesse. Do not +thinke Gentlemen, I am drunke: this is my Ancient, this +is my right hand, and this is my left. I am not drunke +now: I can stand well enough, and I speake well enough + + Gent. Excellent well + + Cas. Why very well then: you must not thinke then, +that I am drunke. +Enter. + + Monta. To th' Platforme (Masters) come, let's set the +Watch + + Iago. You see this Fellow, that is gone before, +He's a Souldier, fit to stand by Caesar, +And giue direction. And do but see his vice, +'Tis to his vertue, a iust Equinox, +The one as long as th' other. 'Tis pittie of him: +I feare the trust Othello puts him in, +On some odde time of his infirmitie +Will shake this Island + + Mont. But is he often thus? + Iago. 'Tis euermore his prologue to his sleepe, +He'le watch the Horologe a double Set, +If Drinke rocke not his Cradle + + Mont. It were well +The Generall were put in mind of it: +Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature +Prizes the vertue that appeares in Cassio, +And lookes not on his euills: is not this true? +Enter Rodorigo. + + Iago. How now Rodorigo? +I pray you after the Lieutenant, go + + Mon. And 'tis great pitty, that the Noble Moore +Should hazard such a Place, as his owne Second +With one of an ingraft Infirmitie, +It were an honest Action, to say so +To the Moore + + Iago. Not I, for this faire Island, +I do loue Cassio well: and would do much +To cure him of this euill, But hearke, what noise? +Enter Cassio pursuing Rodorigo. + + Cas. You Rogue: you Rascall + + Mon. What's the matter Lieutenant? + Cas. A Knaue teach me my dutie? Ile beate the +Knaue in to a Twiggen-Bottle + + Rod. Beate me? + Cas. Dost thou prate, Rogue? + Mon. Nay, good Lieutenant: +I pray you Sir, hold your hand + + Cassio. Let me go (Sir) +Or Ile knocke you o're the Mazard + + Mon. Come, come: you're drunke + + Cassio. Drunke? + Iago. Away I say: go out and cry a Mutinie. +Nay good Lieutenant. Alas Gentlemen: +Helpe hoa. Lieutenant. Sir Montano: +Helpe Masters. Heere's a goodly Watch indeed. +Who's that which rings the Bell: Diablo, hoa: +The Towne will rise. Fie, fie Lieutenant, +You'le be asham'd for euer. +Enter Othello, and Attendants. + + Othe. What is the matter heere? + Mon. I bleed still, I am hurt to th' death. He dies + + Othe. Hold for your liues + + Iag. Hold hoa: Lieutenant, Sir Montano, Gentlemen: +Haue you forgot all place of sense and dutie? +Hold. The Generall speaks to you: hold for shame + + Oth. Why how now hoa? From whence ariseth this? +Are we turn'd Turkes? and to our selues do that +Which Heauen hath forbid the Ottamittes. +For Christian shame, put by this barbarous Brawle: +He that stirs next, to carue for his owne rage, +Holds his soule light: He dies vpon his Motion. +Silence that dreadfull Bell, it frights the Isle, +From her propriety. What is the matter, Masters? +Honest Iago, that lookes dead with greeuing, +Speake: who began this? On thy loue I charge thee? + Iago. I do not know: Friends all, but now, euen now. +In Quarter, and in termes like Bride, and Groome +Deuesting them for Bed: and then, but now: +(As if some Planet had vnwitted men) +Swords out, and tilting one at others breastes, +In opposition bloody. I cannot speake +Any begining to this peeuish oddes. +And would, in Action glorious, I had lost +Those legges, that brought me to a part of it + + Othe. How comes it (Michaell) you are thus forgot? + Cas. I pray you pardon me, I cannot speake + + Othe. Worthy Montano, you were wont to be ciuill: +The grauitie, and stillnesse of your youth +The world hath noted. And your name is great +In mouthes of wisest Censure. What's the matter +That you vnlace your reputation thus, +And spend your rich opinion, for the name +Of a night-brawler? Giue me answer to it + + Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger, +Your Officer Iago, can informe you, +While I spare speech which something now offends me. +Of all that I do know, nor know I ought +By me, that's said, or done amisse this night, +Vnlesse selfe-charitie be sometimes a vice, +And to defend our selues, it be a sinne +When violence assailes vs + + Othe. Now by Heauen, +My blood begins my safer Guides to rule, +And passion (hauing my best iudgement collied) +Assaies to leade the way. If I once stir, +Or do but lift this Arme, the best of you +Shall sinke in my rebuke. Giue me to know +How this foule Rout began: Who set it on, +And he that is approu'd in this offence, +Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth, +Shall loose me. What in a Towne of warre, +Yet wilde, the peoples hearts brim-full of feare, +To Manage priuate, and domesticke Quarrell? +In night, and on the Court and Guard of safetie? +'Tis monstrous: Iago, who began't? + Mon. If partially Affin'd, or league in office, +Thou dost deliuer more, or lesse then Truth, +Thou art no Souldier + + Iago. Touch me not so neere, +I had rather haue this tongue cut from my mouth, +Then it should do offence to Michaell Cassio. +Yet I perswade my selfe, to speake the truth +Shall nothing wrong him. This it is Generall: +Montano and my selfe being in speech, +There comes a Fellow, crying out for helpe, +And Cassio following him with determin'd Sword +To execute vpon him. Sir, this Gentleman, +Steppes in to Cassio, and entreats his pause: +My selfe, the crying Fellow did pursue, +Least by his clamour (as it so fell out) +The Towne might fall in fright. He, (swift of foote) +Out-ran my purpose: and I return'd then rather +For that I heard the clinke, and fall of Swords, +And Cassio high in oath: Which till to night +I nere might say before. When I came backe +(For this was briefe) I found them close together +At blow, and thrust, euen as againe they were +When you your selfe did part them. +More of this matter cannot I report, +But Men are Men: The best sometimes forget, +Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, +As men in rage strike those that wish them best, +Yet surely Cassio, I beleeue receiu'd +From him that fled, some strange Indignitie, +Which patience could not passe + + Othe. I know Iago +Thy honestie, and loue doth mince this matter, +Making it light to Cassio: Cassio, I loue thee, +But neuer more be Officer of mine. +Enter Desdemona attended. + +Looke if my gentle Loue be not rais'd vp: +Ile make thee an example + + Des. What is the matter (Deere?) + Othe. All's well, Sweeting: +Come away to bed. Sir for your hurts, +My selfe will be your Surgeon. Lead him off: +Iago, looke with care about the Towne, +And silence those whom this vil'd brawle distracted. +Come Desdemona, 'tis the Soldiers life, +To haue their Balmy slumbers wak'd with strife. +Enter. + + Iago. What are you hurt Lieutenant? + Cas. I, past all Surgery + + Iago. Marry Heauen forbid + + Cas. Reputation, Reputation, Reputation: Oh I haue +lost my Reputation. I haue lost the immortall part of +myselfe, and what remaines is bestiall. My Reputation, +Iago, my Reputation + + Iago. As I am an honest man I had thought you had +receiued some bodily wound; there is more sence in that +then in Reputation. Reputation is an idle, and most false +imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deseruing. +You haue lost no Reputation at all, vnlesse you +repute your selfe such a looser. What man, there are +more wayes to recouer the Generall againe. You are +but now cast in his moode, (a punishment more in policie, +then in malice) euen so as one would beate his offencelesse +dogge, to affright an Imperious Lyon. Sue to +him againe, and he's yours + + Cas. I will rather sue to be despis'd, then to deceiue +so good a Commander, with so slight, so drunken, and so +indiscreet an Officer. Drunke? And speake Parrat? And +squabble? Swagger? Sweare? And discourse Fustian +with ones owne shadow? Oh thou invisible spirit of +Wine, if thou hast no name to be knowne by, let vs call +thee Diuell + + Iago. What was he that you follow'd with your +Sword? What had he done to you? + Cas. I know not + + Iago. Is't possible? + Cas. I remember a masse of things, but nothing distinctly: +a Quarrell, but nothing wherefore. Oh, that +men should put an Enemie in their mouthes, to steale away +their Braines? that we should with ioy, pleasance, +reuell and applause, transforme our selues into Beasts + + Iago. Why? But you are now well enough: how +came you thus recouered? + Cas. It hath pleas'd the diuell drunkennesse, to giue +place to the diuell wrath, one vnperfectnesse, shewes me +another to make me frankly despise my selfe + + Iago. Come, you are too seuere a Moraller. As the +Time, the Place, & the Condition of this Country stands +I could hartily wish this had not befalne: but since it is, as +it is, mend it for your owne good + + Cas. I will aske him for my Place againe, he shall tell +me, I am a drunkard: had I as many mouthes as Hydra, +such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible +man, by and by a Foole, and presently a Beast. Oh +strange! Euery inordinate cup is vnbless'd, and the Ingredient +is a diuell + + Iago. Come, come: good wine, is a good familiar +Creature, if it be well vs'd: exclaime no more against it. +And good Lieutenant, I thinke, you thinke I loue +you + + Cassio. I haue well approued it, Sir. I drunke? + Iago. You, or any man liuing, may be drunke at a +time man. I tell you what you shall do: Our General's +Wife, is now the Generall. I may say so, in this respect, +for that he hath deuoted, and giuen vp himselfe to the +Contemplation, marke: and deuotement of her parts +and Graces. Confesse your selfe freely to her: Importune +her helpe to put you in your place againe. She is +of so free, so kinde, so apt, so blessed a disposition, +she holds it a vice in her goodnesse, not to do more +then she is requested. This broken ioynt betweene +you, and her husband, entreat her to splinter. And my +Fortunes against any lay worth naming, this cracke of +your Loue, shall grow stronger, then it was before + + Cassio. You aduise me well + + Iago. I protest in the sinceritie of Loue, and honest +kindnesse + + Cassio. I thinke it freely: and betimes in the morning, +I will beseech the vertuous Desdemona to vndertake +for me: I am desperate of my Fortunes if they check me + + Iago. You are in the right: good night Lieutenant, I +must to the Watch + + Cassio. Good night, honest Iago. + +Exit Cassio. + + Iago. And what's he then, +That saies I play the Villaine? +When this aduise is free I giue, and honest, +Proball to thinking, and indeed the course +To win the Moore againe. +For 'tis most easie +Th' inclyning Desdemona to subdue +In any honest Suite. She's fram'd as fruitefull +As the free Elements. And then for her +To win the Moore, were to renownce his Baptisme, +All Seales, and Simbols of redeemed sin: +His Soule is so enfetter'd to her Loue, +That she may make, vnmake, do what she list, +Euen as her Appetite shall play the God, +With his weake Function. How am I then a Villaine, +To Counsell Cassio to this paralell course, +Directly to his good? Diuinitie of hell, +When diuels will the blackest sinnes put on, +They do suggest at first with heauenly shewes, +As I do now. For whiles this honest Foole +Plies Desdemona, to repaire his Fortune, +And she for him, pleades strongly to the Moore, +Ile powre this pestilence into his eare: +That she repeales him, for her bodies Lust, +And by how much she striues to do him good, +She shall vndo her Credite with the Moore. +So will I turne her vertue into pitch. +And out of her owne goodnesse make the Net, +That shall en-mash them all. +How now Rodorigo? +Enter Rodorigo. + + Rodorigo. I do follow heere in the Chace, not +like a Hound that hunts, but one that filles vp the +Crie. My Money is almost spent; I haue bin to night +exceedingly well Cudgell'd: And I thinke the issue +will bee, I shall haue so much experience for my paines; +And so, with no money at all, and a little more Wit, returne +againe to Venice + + Iago. How poore are they that haue not Patience? +What wound did euer heale but by degrees? +Thou know'st we worke by Wit, and not by Witchcraft +And Wit depends on dilatory time: +Dos't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee, +And thou by that small hurt hath casheer'd Cassio: +Though other things grow faire against the Sun, +Yet Fruites that blossome first, will first be ripe: +Content thy selfe, a-while. Introth 'tis Morning; +Pleasure, and Action, make the houres seeme short. +Retire thee, go where thou art Billited: +Away, I say, thou shalt know more heereafter: +Nay get thee gone. + +Exit Roderigo. + +Two things are to be done: +My Wife must moue for Cassio to her Mistris: +Ile set her on my selfe, a while, to draw the Moor apart, +And bring him iumpe, when he may Cassio finde +Soliciting his wife: I, that's the way: +Dull not Deuice, by coldnesse, and delay. +Enter. + + +Actus Tertius. Scena Prima. + +Enter Cassio, Musitians, and Clowne. + + Cassio. Masters, play heere, I wil content your paines, +Something that's briefe: and bid, goodmorrow General + + Clo. Why Masters, haue your Instruments bin in Naples, +that they speake i'th' Nose thus? + Mus. How Sir? how? + Clo. Are these I pray you, winde Instruments? + Mus. I marry are they sir + + Clo. Oh, thereby hangs a tale + + Mus. Whereby hangs a tale, sir? + Clow. Marry sir, by many a winde Instrument that I +know. But Masters, heere's money for you: and the Generall +so likes your Musick, that he desires you for loues +sake to make no more noise with it + + Mus. Well Sir, we will not + + Clo. If you haue any Musicke that may not be heard, +too't againe. But (as they say) to heare Musicke, the Generall +do's not greatly care + + Mus. We haue none such, sir + + Clow. Then put vp your Pipes in your bagge, for Ile +away. Go, vanish into ayre, away. + +Exit Mu. + + Cassio. Dost thou heare me, mine honest Friend? + Clo. No, I heare not your honest Friend: +I heare you + + Cassio. Prythee keepe vp thy Quillets, ther's a poore +peece of Gold for thee: if the Gentlewoman that attends +the Generall be stirring, tell her, there's one Cassio entreats +her a little fauour of Speech. Wilt thou do this? + Clo. She is stirring sir: if she will stirre hither, I shall +seeme to notifie vnto her. + +Exit Clo. + +Enter Iago. + +In happy time, Iago + + Iago. You haue not bin a-bed then? + Cassio. Why no: the day had broke before we parted. +I haue made bold (Iago) to send in to your wife: +My suite to her is, that she will to vertuous Desdemona +Procure me some accesse + + Iago. Ile send her to you presently: +And Ile deuise a meane to draw the Moore +Out of the way, that your conuerse and businesse +May be more free. + +Exit + + Cassio. I humbly thanke you for't. I neuer knew +A Florentine more kinde, and honest. +Enter aemilia. + +Aemil. Goodmorrow (good Lieutenant) I am sorrie +For your displeasure: but all will sure be well. +The Generall and his wife are talking of it, +And she speakes for you stoutly. The Moore replies, +That he you hurt is of great Fame in Cyprus, +And great Affinitie: and that in wholsome Wisedome +He might not but refuse you. But he protests he loues you +And needs no other Suitor, but his likings +To bring you in againe + + Cassio. Yet I beseech you, +If you thinke fit, or that it may be done, +Giue me aduantage of some breefe Discourse +With Desdemon alone. +Aemil. Pray you come in: +I will bestow you where you shall haue time +To speake your bosome freely + + Cassio. I am much bound to you. + +Scoena Secunda. + +Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen. + + Othe. These Letters giue (Iago) to the Pylot, +And by him do my duties to the Senate: +That done, I will be walking on the Workes, +Repaire there to mee + + Iago. Well, my good Lord, Ile doo't + + Oth. This Fortification (Gentlemen) shall we see't? + Gent. Well waite vpon your Lordship. + +Exeunt. + +Scoena Tertia. + +Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and aemilia. + + Des. Be thou assur'd (good Cassio) I will do +All my abilities in thy behalfe. +Aemil. Good Madam do: +I warrant it greeues my Husband, +As if the cause were his + + Des. Oh that's an honest Fellow, Do not doubt Cassio +But I will haue my Lord, and you againe +As friendly as you were + + Cassio. Bounteous Madam, +What euer shall become of Michael Cassio, +He's neuer any thing but your true Seruant + + Des. I know't: I thanke you: you do loue my Lord: +You haue knowne him long, and be you well assur'd +He shall in strangenesse stand no farther off, +Then in a politique distance + + Cassio. I, but Lady, +That policie may either last so long, +Or feede vpon such nice and waterish diet, +Or breede it selfe so out of Circumstances, +That I being absent, and my place supply'd, +My Generall will forget my Loue, and Seruice + + Des. Do not doubt that: before aemilia here, +I giue thee warrant of thy place. Assure thee, +If I do vow a friendship, Ile performe it +To the last Article. My Lord shall neuer rest, +Ile watch him tame, and talke him out of patience; +His Bed shall seeme a Schoole, his Boord a Shrift, +Ile intermingle euery thing he do's +With Cassio's suite: Therefore be merry Cassio, +For thy Solicitor shall rather dye, +Then giue thy cause away. +Enter Othello, and Iago. + +Aemil. Madam, heere comes my Lord + + Cassio. Madam, Ile take my leaue + + Des. Why stay, and heare me speake + + Cassio. Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease, +Vnfit for mine owne purposes + + Des. Well, do your discretion. + +Exit Cassio. + + Iago. Hah? I like not that + + Othel. What dost thou say? + Iago. Nothing my Lord; or if- I know not what + + Othel. Was not that Cassio parted from my wife? + Iago. Cassio my Lord? No sure, I cannot thinke it +That he would steale away so guilty-like, +Seeing your comming + + Oth. I do beleeue 'twas he + + Des. How now my Lord? +I haue bin talking with a Suitor heere, +A man that languishes in your displeasure + + Oth. Who is't you meane? + Des. Why your Lieutenant Cassio: Good my Lord, +If I haue any grace, or power to moue you, +His present reconciliation take. +For if he be not one, that truly loues you, +That erres in Ignorance, and not in Cunning, +I haue no iudgement in an honest face. +I prythee call him backe + + Oth. Went he hence now? + Des. I sooth; so humbled, +That he hath left part of his greefe with mee +To suffer with him. Good Loue, call him backe + + Othel. Not now (sweet Desdemon) some other time + + Des. But shall't be shortly? + Oth. The sooner (Sweet) for you + + Des. Shall't be to night, at Supper? + Oth. No, not to night + + Des. To morrow Dinner then? + Oth. I shall not dine at home: +I meete the Captaines at the Cittadell + + Des. Why then to morrow night, on Tuesday morne, +On Tuesday noone, or night; on Wensday Morne. +I prythee name the time, but let it not +Exceed three dayes. Infaith hee's penitent: +And yet his Trespasse, in our common reason +(Saue that they say the warres must make example) +Out of her best, is not almost a fault +T' encurre a priuate checke. When shall he come? +Tell me Othello. I wonder in my Soule +What you would aske me, that I should deny, +Or stand so mam'ring on? What? Michael Cassio, +That came a woing with you? and so many a time +(When I haue spoke of you dispraisingly) +Hath tane your part, to haue so much to do +To bring him in? Trust me, I could do much + + Oth. Prythee no more: Let him come when he will: +I will deny thee nothing + + Des. Why, this is not a Boone: +'Tis as I should entreate you weare your Gloues, +Or feede on nourishing dishes, or keepe you warme, +Or sue to you, to do a peculiar profit +To your owne person. Nay, when I haue a suite +Wherein I meane to touch your Loue indeed, +It shall be full of poize, and difficult waight, +And fearefull to be granted + + Oth. I will deny thee nothing. +Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this, +To leaue me but a little to my selfe + + Des. Shall I deny you? No: farewell my Lord + + Oth. Farewell my Desdemona, Ile come to thee strait + + Des. aemilia come; be as your Fancies teach you: +What ere you be, I am obedient. +Enter. + + Oth. Excellent wretch: Perdition catch my Soule +But I do loue thee: and when I loue thee not, +Chaos is come againe + + Iago. My Noble Lord + + Oth. What dost thou say, Iago? + Iago. Did Michael Cassio +When he woo'd my Lady, know of your loue? + Oth. He did, from first to last: +Why dost thou aske? + Iago. But for a satisfaction of my Thought, +No further harme + + Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago? + Iago. I did not thinke he had bin acquainted with hir + + Oth. O yes, and went betweene vs very oft + + Iago. Indeed? + Oth. Indeed? I indeed. Discern'st thou ought in that? +Is he not honest? + Iago. Honest, my Lord? + Oth. Honest? I, Honest + + Iago. My Lord, for ought I know + + Oth. What do'st thou thinke? + Iago. Thinke, my Lord? + Oth. Thinke, my Lord? Alas, thou ecchos't me; +As if there were some Monster in thy thought +Too hideous to be shewne. Thou dost mean somthing: +I heard thee say euen now, thou lik'st not that, +When Cassio left my wife. What didd'st not like? +And when I told thee, he was of my Counsaile, +Of my whole course of wooing; thou cried'st, Indeede? +And didd'st contract, and purse thy brow together, +As if thou then hadd'st shut vp in thy Braine +Some horrible Conceite. If thou do'st loue me, +Shew me thy thought + + Iago. My Lord, you know I loue you + + Oth. I thinke thou do'st: +And for I know thou'rt full of Loue, and Honestie, +And weigh'st thy words before thou giu'st them breath, +Therefore these stops of thine, fright me the more: +For such things in a false disloyall Knaue +Are trickes of Custome: but in a man that's iust, +They're close dilations, working from the heart, +That Passion cannot rule + + Iago. For Michael Cassio, +I dare be sworne, I thinke that he is honest + + Oth. I thinke so too + + Iago. Men should be what they seeme, +Or those that be not, would they might seeme none + + Oth. Certaine, men should be what they seeme + + Iago. Why then I thinke Cassio's an honest man + + Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this? +I prythee speake to me, as to thy thinkings, +As thou dost ruminate, and giue thy worst of thoughts +The worst of words + + Iago. Good my Lord pardon me, +Though I am bound to euery Acte of dutie, +I am not bound to that: All Slaues are free: +Vtter my Thoughts? Why say, they are vild, and falce? +As where's that Palace, whereinto foule things +Sometimes intrude not? Who ha's that breast so pure, +Wherein vncleanly Apprehensions +Keepe Leetes, and Law-dayes, and in Sessions sit +With meditations lawfull? + Oth. Thou do'st conspire against thy Friend (Iago) +If thou but think'st him wrong'd, and mak'st his eare +A stranger to thy Thoughts + + Iago. I do beseech you, +Though I perchance am vicious in my guesse +(As I confesse it is my Natures plague +To spy into Abuses, and of my iealousie +Shapes faults that are not) that your wisedome +From one, that so imperfectly conceits, +Would take no notice, nor build your selfe a trouble +Out of his scattering, and vnsure obseruance: +It were not for your quiet, nor your good, +Nor for my Manhood, Honesty, and Wisedome, +To let you know my thoughts + + Oth. What dost thou meane? + Iago. Good name in Man, & woman (deere my Lord) +Is the immediate Iewell of their Soules; +Who steales my purse, steales trash: +'Tis something, nothing; +'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has bin slaue to thousands: +But he that filches from me my good Name, +Robs me of that, which not enriches him, +And makes me poore indeed + + Oth. Ile know thy Thoughts + + Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand, +Nor shall not, whil'st 'tis in my custodie + + Oth. Ha? + Iago. Oh, beware my Lord, of iealousie, +It is the greene-ey'd Monster, which doth mocke +The meate it feeds on. That Cuckold liues in blisse, +Who certaine of his Fate, loues not his wronger: +But oh, what damned minutes tels he ore, +Who dotes, yet doubts: Suspects, yet soundly loues? + Oth. O miserie + + Iago. Poore, and Content, is rich, and rich enough, +But Riches finelesse, is as poore as Winter, +To him that euer feares he shall be poore: +Good Heauen, the Soules of all my Tribe defend +From Iealousie + + Oth. Why? why is this? +Think'st thou, I'ld make a Life of Iealousie; +To follow still the changes of the Moone +With fresh suspitions? No: to be once in doubt, +Is to be resolu'd: Exchange me for a Goat, +When I shall turne the businesse of my Soule +To such exufflicate, and blow'd Surmises, +Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me Iealious, +To say my wife is faire, feeds well, loues company, +Is free of Speech, Sings, Playes, and Dances: +Where Vertue is, these are more vertuous. +Nor from mine owne weake merites, will I draw +The smallest feare, or doubt of her reuolt, +For she had eyes, and chose me. No Iago, +Ile see before I doubt; when I doubt, proue; +And on the proofe, there is no more but this, +Away at once with Loue, or Iealousie + + Ia. I am glad of this: For now I shall haue reason +To shew the Loue and Duty that I beare you +With franker spirit. Therefore (as I am bound) +Receiue it from me. I speake not yet of proofe: +Looke to your wife, obserue her well with Cassio, +Weare your eyes, thus: not Iealious, nor Secure: +I would not haue your free, and Noble Nature, +Out of selfe-Bounty, be abus'd: Looke too't: +I know our Country disposition well: +In Venice, they do let Heauen see the prankes +They dare not shew their Husbands. +Their best Conscience, +Is not to leaue't vndone, but kept vnknowne + + Oth. Dost thou say so? + Iago. She did deceiue her Father, marrying you, +And when she seem'd to shake, and feare your lookes, +She lou'd them most + + Oth. And so she did + + Iago. Why go too then: +Shee that so young could giue out such a Seeming +To seele her Fathers eyes vp, close as Oake, +He thought 'twas Witchcraft. +But I am much too blame: +I humbly do beseech you of your pardon +For too much louing you + + Oth. I am bound to thee for euer + + Iago. I see this hath a little dash'd your Spirits: + Oth. Not a iot, not a iot + + Iago. Trust me, I feare it has: +I hope you will consider what is spoke +Comes from your Loue. +But I do see y'are moou'd: +I am to pray you, not to straine my speech +To grosser issues, nor to larger reach, +Then to Suspition + + Oth. I will not + + Iago. Should you do so (my Lord) +My speech should fall into such vilde successe, +Which my Thoughts aym'd not. +Cassio's my worthy Friend: +My Lord, I see y'are mou'd + + Oth. No, not much mou'd: +I do not thinke but Desdemona's honest + + Iago. Long liue she so; +And long liue you to thinke so + + Oth. And yet how Nature erring from it selfe + + Iago. I, there's the point: +As (to be bold with you) +Not to affect many proposed Matches +Of her owne Clime, Complexion, and Degree, +Whereto we see in all things, Nature tends: +Foh, one may smel in such, a will most ranke, +Foule disproportions, Thoughts vnnaturall. +But (pardon me) I do not in position +Distinctly speake of her, though I may feare +Her will, recoyling to her better iudgement, +May fal to match you with her Country formes, +And happily repent + + Oth. Farewell, farewell: +If more thou dost perceiue, let me know more: +Set on thy wife to obserue. +Leaue me Iago + + Iago. My Lord, I take my leaue + + Othel. Why did I marry? +This honest Creature (doubtlesse) +Sees, and knowes more, much more then he vnfolds + + Iago. My Lord, I would I might intreat your Honor +To scan this thing no farther: Leaue it to time, +Although 'tis fit that Cassio haue his Place; +For sure he filles it vp with great Ability; +Yet if you please, to him off a-while: +You shall by that perceiue him, and his meanes: +Note if your Lady straine his Entertainment +With any strong, or vehement importunitie, +Much will be seene in that: In the meane time, +Let me be thought too busie in my feares, +(As worthy cause I haue to feare I am) +And hold her free, I do beseech your Honor + + Oth. Feare not my gouernment + + Iago. I once more take my leaue. +Enter. + + Oth. This Fellow's of exceeding honesty, +And knowes all Quantities with a learn'd Spirit +Of humane dealings. If I do proue her Haggard, +Though that her Iesses were my deere heart-strings, +I'ld whistle her off, and let her downe the winde +To prey at Fortune. Haply, for I am blacke, +And haue not those soft parts of Conuersation +That Chamberers haue: Or for I am declin'd +Into the vale of yeares (yet that's not much) +Shee's gone. I am abus'd, and my releefe +Must be to loath her. Oh Curse of Marriage! +That we can call these delicate Creatures ours, +And not their Appetites? I had rather be a Toad, +And liue vpon the vapour of a Dungeon, +Then keepe a corner in the thing I loue +For others vses. Yet 'tis the plague to Great-ones, +Prerogatiu'd are they lesse then the Base, +'Tis destiny vnshunnable, like death: +Euen then, this forked plague is Fated to vs, +When we do quicken. Looke where she comes: +Enter Desdemona and aemilia. + +If she be false, Heauen mock'd it selfe: +Ile not beleeue't + + Des. How now, my deere Othello? +Your dinner, and the generous Islanders +By you inuited, do attend your presence + + Oth. I am too blame + + Des. Why do you speake so faintly? +Are you not well? + Oth. I haue a paine vpon my Forehead, heere + + Des. Why that's with watching, 'twill away againe. +Let me but binde it hard, within this houre +It will be well + + Oth. Your Napkin is too little: +Let it alone: Come, Ile go in with you. +Enter. + + Des. I am very sorry that you are not well. +Aemil. I am glad I haue found this Napkin: +This was her first remembrance from the Moore, +My wayward Husband hath a hundred times +Woo'd me to steale it. But she so loues the Token, +(For he coniur'd her, she should euer keepe it) +That she reserues it euermore about her, +To kisse, and talke too. Ile haue the worke tane out, +And giu't Iago: what he will do with it +Heauen knowes, not I: +I nothing, but to please his Fantasie. +Enter Iago. + + Iago. How now? What do you heere alone? +Aemil. Do not you chide: I haue a thing for you + + Iago. You haue a thing for me? +It is a common thing- +Aemil. Hah? + Iago. To haue a foolish wife. +Aemil. Oh, is that all? What will you giue me now +For that same Handkerchiefe + + Iago. What Handkerchiefe? +Aemil. What Handkerchiefe? +Why that the Moore first gaue to Desdemona, +That which so often you did bid me steale + + Iago. Hast stolne it from her? +Aemil. No: but she let it drop by negligence, +And to th' aduantage, I being heere, took't vp: +Looke, heere 'tis + + Iago. A good wench, giue it me. +Aemil. What will you do with't, that you haue bene +so earnest to haue me filch it? + Iago. Why, what is that to you? +Aemil. If it be not for some purpose of import, +Giu't me againe. Poore Lady, shee'l run mad +When she shall lacke it + + Iago. Be not acknowne on't: +I haue vse for it. Go, leaue me. + +Exit aemil. + +I will in Cassio's Lodging loose this Napkin, +And let him finde it. Trifles light as ayre, +Are to the iealious, confirmations strong, +As proofes of holy Writ. This may do something. +The Moore already changes with my poyson: +Dangerous conceites, are in their Natures poysons, +Which at the first are scarse found to distaste: +But with a little acte vpon the blood, +Burne like the Mines of Sulphure. I did say so. +Enter Othello. + +Looke where he comes: Not Poppy, nor Mandragora, +Nor all the drowsie Syrrups of the world +Shall euer medicine thee to that sweete sleepe +Which thou owd'st yesterday + + Oth. Ha, ha, false to mee? + Iago. Why how now Generall? No more of that + + Oth. Auant, be gone: Thou hast set me on the Racke: +I sweare 'tis better to be much abus'd, +Then but to know't a little + + Iago. How now, my Lord? + Oth. What sense had I, in her stolne houres of Lust? +I saw't not, thought it not: it harm'd not me: +I slept the next night well, fed well, was free, and merrie. +I found not Cassio's kisses on her Lippes: +He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolne, +Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all + + Iago. I am sorry to heare this? + Oth. I had beene happy, if the generall Campe, +Pyoners and all, had tasted her sweet Body, +So I had nothing knowne. Oh now, for euer +Farewell the Tranquill minde; farewell Content; +Farewell the plumed Troopes, and the bigge Warres, +That makes Ambition, Vertue! Oh farewell, +Farewell the neighing Steed, and the shrill Trumpe, +The Spirit-stirring Drum, th' Eare-piercing Fife, +The Royall Banner, and all Qualitie, +Pride, Pompe, and Circumstance of glorious Warre: +And O you mortall Engines, whose rude throates +Th' immortall Ioues dread Clamours, counterfet, +Farewell: Othello's Occupation's gone + + Iago. Is't possible my Lord? + Oth. Villaine, be sure thou proue my Loue a Whore; +Be sure of it: Giue me the Occular proofe, +Or by the worth of mine eternall Soule, +Thou had'st bin better haue bin borne a Dog +Then answer my wak'd wrath + + Iago. Is't come to this? + Oth. Make me to see't: or (at the least) so proue it, +That the probation beare no Hindge, nor Loope, +To hang a doubt on: Or woe vpon thy life + + Iago. My Noble Lord + + Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me, +Neuer pray more: Abandon all remorse +On Horrors head, Horrors accumulate: +Do deeds to make Heauen weepe, all Earth amaz'd; +For nothing canst thou to damnation adde, +Greater then that + + Iago. O Grace! O Heauen forgiue me! +Are you a Man? Haue you a Soule? or Sense? +God buy you: take mine Office. Oh wretched Foole, +That lou'st to make thine Honesty, a Vice! +Oh monstrous world! Take note, take note (O World) +To be direct and honest, is not safe. +I thanke you for this profit, and from hence +Ile loue no Friend, sith Loue breeds such offence + + Oth. Nay stay: thou should'st be honest + + Iago. I should be wise; for Honestie's a Foole, +And looses that it workes for + + Oth. By the World, +I thinke my Wife be honest, and thinke she is not: +I thinke that thou art iust, and thinke thou art not: +Ile haue some proofe. My name that was as fresh +As Dians Visage, is now begrim'd and blacke +As mine owne face. If there be Cords, or Kniues, +Poyson, or Fire, or suffocating streames, +Ile not indure it. Would I were satisfied + + Iago. I see you are eaten vp with Passion: +I do repent me, that I put it to you. +You would be satisfied? + Oth. Would? Nay, and I will + + Iago. And may: but how? How satisfied, my Lord? +Would you the super-vision grossely gape on? +Behold her top'd? + Oth. Death, and damnation. Oh! + Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I thinke, +To bring them to that Prospect: Damne them then, +If euer mortall eyes do see them boulster +More then their owne. What then? How then? +What shall I say? Where's Satisfaction? +It is impossible you should see this, +Were they as prime as Goates, as hot as Monkeyes, +As salt as Wolues in pride, and Fooles as grosse +As Ignorance, made drunke. But yet, I say, +If imputation, and strong circumstances, +Which leade directly to the doore of Truth, +Will giue you satisfaction, you might haue't + + Oth. Giue me a liuing reason she's disloyall + + Iago. I do not like the Office. +But sith I am entred in this cause so farre +(Prick'd too't by foolish Honesty, and Loue) +I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately, +And being troubled with a raging tooth, +I could not sleepe. There are a kinde of men, +So loose of Soule, that in their sleepes will mutter +Their Affayres: one of this kinde is Cassio: +In sleepe I heard him say, sweet Desdemona, +Let vs be wary, let vs hide our Loues, +And then (Sir) would he gripe, and wring my hand: +Cry, oh sweet Creature: then kisse me hard, +As if he pluckt vp kisses by the rootes, +That grew vpon my lippes, laid his Leg ore my Thigh, +And sigh, and kisse, and then cry cursed Fate, +That gaue thee to the Moore + + Oth. O monstrous! monstrous! + Iago. Nay, this was but his Dreame + + Oth. But this denoted a fore-gone conclusion, +'Tis a shrew'd doubt, though it be but a Dreame + + Iago. And this may helpe to thicken other proofes, +That do demonstrate thinly + + Oth. Ile teare her all to peeces + + Iago. Nay yet be wise; yet we see nothing done, +She may be honest yet: Tell me but this, +Haue you not sometimes seene a Handkerchiefe +Spotted with Strawberries, in your wiues hand? + Oth. I gaue her such a one: 'twas my first gift + + Iago. I know not that: but such a Handkerchiefe +(I am sure it was your wiues) did I to day +See Cassio wipe his Beard with + + Oth. If it be that + + Iago. If it be that, or any, it was here. +It speakes against her with the other proofes + + Othel. O that the Slaue had forty thousand liues: +One is too poore, too weake for my reuenge. +Now do I see 'tis true. Looke heere Iago, +All my fond loue thus do I blow to Heauen. 'Tis gone. +Arise blacke vengeance, from the hollow hell, +Yeeld vp (O Loue) thy Crowne, and hearted Throne +To tyrannous Hate. Swell bosome with thy fraught, +For 'tis of Aspickes tongues + + Iago. Yet be content + + Oth. Oh blood, blood, blood + + Iago. Patience I say: your minde may change + + Oth. Neuer Iago. Like to the Ponticke Sea, +Whose Icie Current, and compulsiue course, +Neu'r keepes retyring ebbe, but keepes due on +To the Proponticke, and the Hellespont: +Euen so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace +Shall neu'r looke backe, neu'r ebbe to humble Loue, +Till that a capeable, and wide Reuenge +Swallow them vp. Now by yond Marble Heauen, +In the due reuerence of a Sacred vow, +I heere engage my words + + Iago. Do not rise yet: +Witnesse you euer-burning Lights aboue, +You Elements, that clip vs round about, +Witnesse that heere Iago doth giue vp +The execution of his wit, hands, heart, +To wrong'd Othello's Seruice. Let him command, +And to obey shall be in me remorse, +What bloody businesse euer + + Oth. I greet thy loue, +Not with vaine thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, +And will vpon the instant put thee too't. +Within these three dayes let me heare thee say, +That Cassio's not aliue + + Iago. My Friend is dead: +'Tis done at your Request. +But let her liue + + Oth. Damne her lewde Minx: +O damne her, damne her. +Come go with me a-part, I will withdraw +To furnish me with some swift meanes of death +For the faire Diuell. +Now art thou my Lieutenant + + Iago. I am your owne for euer. + +Exeunt. + + +Scaena Quarta. + +Enter Desdemona, aemilia, and Clown. + + Des. Do you know Sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio +lyes? + Clow. I dare not say he lies any where + + Des. Why man? + Clo. He's a Soldier, and for me to say a Souldier lyes, +'tis stabbing + + Des. Go too: where lodges he? + Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tel you where +I lye + + Des. Can any thing be made of this? + Clo. I know not where he lodges, and for mee to deuise +a lodging, and say he lies heere, or he lies there, were +to lye in mine owne throat + + Des. Can you enquire him out? and be edified by report? + Clo. I will Catechize the world for him, that is, make +Questions, and by them answer + + Des. Seeke him, bidde him come hither: tell him, I +haue moou'd my Lord on his behalfe, and hope all will +be well + + Clo. To do this, is within the compasse of mans Wit, +and therefore I will attempt the doing it. + +Exit Clo. + + Des. Where should I loose the Handkerchiefe, aemilia? +Aemil. I know not Madam + + Des. Beleeue me, I had rather haue lost my purse +Full of Cruzadoes. And but my Noble Moore +Is true of minde, and made of no such basenesse, +As iealious Creatures are, it were enough +To put him to ill-thinking. +Aemil. Is he not iealious? + Des. Who, he? I thinke the Sun where he was borne, +Drew all such humors from him. +Aemil. Looke where he comes. +Enter Othello. + + Des. I will not leaue him now, till Cassio be +Call'd to him. How is't with you, my Lord? + Oth. Well my good Lady. Oh hardnes to dissemble! +How do you, Desdemona? + Des. Well, my good Lord + + Oth. Giue me your hand. +This hand is moist, my Lady + + Des. It hath felt no age, nor knowne no sorrow + + Oth. This argues fruitfulnesse, and liberall heart: +Hot, hot, and moyst. This hand of yours requires +A sequester from Liberty: Fasting, and Prayer, +Much Castigation, Exercise deuout, +For heere's a yong, and sweating Diuell heere +That commonly rebels: 'Tis a good hand, +A franke one + + Des. You may (indeed) say so: +For 'twas that hand that gaue away my heart + + Oth. A liberall hand. The hearts of old, gaue hands: +But our new Heraldry is hands, not hearts + + Des. I cannot speake of this: +Come, now your promise + + Oth. What promise, Chucke? + Des. I haue sent to bid Cassio come speake with you + + Oth. I haue a salt and sorry Rhewme offends me: +Lend me thy Handkerchiefe + + Des. Heere my Lord + + Oth. That which I gaue you + + Des. I haue it not about me + + Oth. Not? + Des. No indeed, my Lord + + Oth. That's a fault: That Handkerchiefe +Did an aegyptian to my Mother giue: +She was a Charmer, and could almost read +The thoughts of people. She told her, while she kept it, +'T would make her Amiable, and subdue my Father +Intirely to her loue: But if she lost it, +Or made a Guift of it, my Fathers eye +Should hold her loathed, and his Spirits should hunt +After new Fancies. She dying, gaue it me, +And bid me (when my Fate would haue me Wiu'd) +To giue it her. I did so; and take heede on't, +Make it a Darling, like your precious eye: +To loose't, or giue't away, were such perdition, +As nothing else could match + + Des. Is't possible? + Oth. 'Tis true: There's Magicke in the web of it: +A Sybill that had numbred in the world +The Sun to course, two hundred compasses, +In her Prophetticke furie sow'd the Worke: +The Wormes were hallowed, that did breede the Silke, +And it was dyde in Mummey, which the Skilfull +Conseru'd of Maidens hearts + + Des. Indeed? Is't true? + Oth. Most veritable, therefore looke too't well + + Des. Then would to Heauen, that I had neuer seene't? + Oth. Ha? wherefore? + Des. Why do you speake so startingly, and rash? + Oth. Is't lost? Is't gon? Speak, is't out o'th' way? + Des. Blesse vs + + Oth. Say you? + Des. It is not lost: but what and if it were? + Oth. How? + Des. I say it is not lost + + Oth. Fetcht, let me see't + + Des. Why so I can: but I will not now: +This is a tricke to put me from my suite, +Pray you let Cassio be receiu'd againe + + Oth. Fetch me the Handkerchiefe, +My minde mis-giues + + Des. Come, come: you'l neuer meete a more sufficient +man + + Oth. The Handkerchiefe + + Des. A man that all his time +Hath founded his good Fortunes on your loue; +Shar'd dangers with you + + Oth. The Handkerchiefe + + Des. Insooth, you are too blame + + Oth. Away. + +Exit Othello. + +Aemil. Is not this man iealious? + Des. I neu'r saw this before. +Sure, there's some wonder in this Handkerchiefe, +I am most vnhappy in the losse of it. +Aemil. 'Tis not a yeare or two shewes vs a man: +They are all but Stomackes, and we all but Food, +They eate vs hungerly, and when they are full +They belch vs. +Enter Iago, and Cassio. + +Looke you, Cassio and my Husband + + Iago. There is no other way: 'tis she must doo't: +And loe the happinesse: go, and importune her + + Des. How now (good Cassio) what's the newes with +you? + Cassio. Madam, my former suite. I do beseech you, +That by your vertuous meanes, I may againe +Exist, and be a member of his loue, +Whom I, with all the Office of my heart +Intirely honour, I would not be delayd. +If my offence, be of such mortall kinde, +That nor my Seruice past, nor present Sorrowes, +Nor purpos'd merit in futurity, +Can ransome me into his loue againe, +But to know so, must be my benefit: +So shall I cloath me in a forc'd content, +And shut my selfe vp in some other course +To Fortunes Almes + + Des. Alas (thrice-gentle Cassio) +My Aduocation is not now in Tune; +My Lord, is not my Lord; nor should I know him, +Were he in Fauour, as in Humour alter'd. +So helpe me euery spirit sanctified, +As I haue spoken for you all my best, +And stood within the blanke of his displeasure +For my free speech. You must awhile be patient: +What I can do, I will: and more I will +Then for my selfe, I dare. Let that suffice you + + Iago. Is my Lord angry? +Aemil. He went hence but now: +And certainly in strange vnquietnesse + + Iago. Can he be angry? I haue seen the Cannon +When it hath blowne his Rankes into the Ayre, +And like the Diuell from his very Arme +Puff't his owne Brother: And is he angry? +Something of moment then: I will go meet him, +There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry. + +Exit + + Des. I prythee do so. Something sure of State, +Either from Venice, or some vnhatch'd practise +Made demonstrable heere in Cyprus, to him, +Hath pudled his cleare Spirit: and in such cases, +Mens Natures wrangle with inferiour things, +Though great ones are their obiect. 'Tis euen so. +For let our finger ake, and it endues +Our other healthfull members, euen to a sense +Of paine. Nay, we must thinke men are not Gods, +Nor of them looke for such obseruancie +As fits the Bridall. Beshrew me much, aemilia, +I was (vnhandsome Warrior, as I am) +Arraigning his vnkindnesse with my soule: +But now I finde, I had suborn'd the Witnesse, +And he's Indited falsely. +Aemil. Pray heauen it bee +State matters, as you thinke, and no Conception, +Nor no Iealious Toy, concerning you + + Des. Alas the day, I neuer gaue him cause. +Aemil. But Iealious soules will not be answer'd so; +They are not euer iealious for the cause, +But iealious, for they're iealious. It is a Monster +Begot vpon it selfe, borne on it selfe + + Des. Heauen keepe the Monster from Othello's mind. +Aemil. Lady, Amen + + Des. I will go seeke him. Cassio, walke heere about: +If I doe finde him fit, Ile moue your suite, +And seeke to effect it to my vttermost. + +Exit + + Cas. I humbly thanke your Ladyship. +Enter Bianca. + + Bian. 'Saue you (Friend Cassio.) + Cassio. What make you from home? +How is't with you, my most faire Bianca? +Indeed (sweet Loue) I was comming to your house + + Bian. And I was going to your Lodging, Cassio. +What? keepe a weeke away? Seuen dayes, and Nights? +Eight score eight houres? And Louers absent howres +More tedious then the Diall, eight score times? +Oh weary reck'ning + + Cassio. Pardon me, Bianca: +I haue this while with leaden thoughts beene prest, +But I shall in a more continuate time +Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca +Take me this worke out + + Bianca. Oh Cassio, whence came this? +This is some Token from a newer Friend, +To the felt-Absence: now I feele a Cause: +Is't come to this? Well, well + + Cassio. Go too, woman: +Throw your vilde gesses in the Diuels teeth, +From whence you haue them. You are iealious now, +That this is from some Mistris, some remembrance; +No, in good troth Bianca + + Bian. Why, who's is it? + Cassio. I know not neither: +I found it in my Chamber, +I like the worke well; Ere it be demanded +(As like enough it will) I would haue it coppied: +Take it, and doo't, and leaue me for this time + + Bian. Leaue you? Wherefore? + Cassio. I do attend heere on the Generall, +And thinke it no addition, nor my wish +To haue him see me woman'd + + Bian. Why, I pray you? + Cassio. Not that I loue you not + + Bian. But that you do not loue me. +I pray you bring me on the way a little, +And say, if I shall see you soone at night? + Cassio. 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you, +For I attend heere: But Ile see you soone + + Bian. 'Tis very good: I must be circumstanc'd. + +Exeunt. omnes. + + +Actus Quartus. Scena Prima. + +Enter Othello, and Iago. + + Iago. Will you thinke so? + Oth. Thinke so, Iago? + Iago. What, to kisse in priuate? + Oth. An vnauthoriz'd kisse? + Iago. Or to be naked with her Friend in bed, +An houre, or more, not meaning any harme? + Oth. Naked in bed (Iago) and not meane harme? +It is hypocrisie against the Diuell: +They that meane vertuously, and yet do so, +The Diuell their vertue tempts, and they tempt Heauen + + Iago. If they do nothing, 'tis a Veniall slip: +But if I giue my wife a Handkerchiefe + + Oth. What then? + Iago. Why then 'tis hers (my Lord) and being hers, +She may (I thinke) bestow't on any man + + Oth. She is Protectresse of her honor too: +May she giue that? + Iago. Her honor is an Essence that's not seene, +They haue it very oft, that haue it not. +But for the Handkerchiefe + + Othe. By heauen, I would most gladly haue forgot it: +Thou saidst (oh, it comes ore my memorie, +As doth the Rauen o're the infectious house: +Boading to all) he had my Handkerchiefe + + Iago . I: what of that? + Othe. That's not so good now + + Iag. What if I had said, I had seene him do you wrong? +Or heard him say (as Knaues be such abroad, +Who hauing by their owne importunate suit, +Or voluntary dotage of some Mistris, +Conuinced or supply'd them, cannot chuse +But they must blab.) + Oth. Hath he said any thing? + Iago. He hath (my Lord) but be you well assur'd, +No more then he'le vn-sweare + + Oth. What hath he said? + Iago. Why, that he did: I know not what he did + + Othe. What? What? + Iago. Lye + + Oth. With her? + Iago. With her? On her: what you will + + Othe. Lye with her? lye on her? We say lye on her, +when they be-lye-her. Lye with her: that's fullsome: +Handkerchiefe: Confessions: Handkerchiefe. To confesse, +and be hang'd for his labour. First, to be hang'd, +and then to confesse: I tremble at it. Nature would not +inuest her selfe in such shadowing passion, without some +Instruction. It is not words that shakes me thus, (pish) +Noses, Eares, and Lippes: is't possible. Confesse? Handkerchiefe? +O diuell. + +Falls in a Traunce. + + Iago. Worke on, +My Medicine workes. Thus credulous Fooles are caught, +And many worthy, and chast Dames euen thus, +(All guiltlesse) meete reproach: what hoa? My Lord? +My Lord, I say: Othello. +Enter Cassio. + +How now Cassio? + Cas. What's the matter? + Iago. My Lord is falne into an Epilepsie, +This is his second Fit: he had one yesterday + + Cas. Rub him about the Temples + + Iago. The Lethargie must haue his quyet course: +If not, he foames at mouth: and by and by +Breakes out to sauage madnesse. Looke, he stirres: +Do you withdraw your selfe a little while, +He will recouer straight: when he is gone, +I would on great occasion, speake with you. +How is it Generall? Haue you not hurt your head? + Othe. Dost thou mocke me? + Iago. I mocke you not, by Heauen: +Would you would beare your Fortune like a Man + + Othe. A Horned man's a Monster, and a Beast + + Iago. Ther's many a Beast then in a populous Citty, +And many a ciuill Monster + + Othe. Did he confesse it? + Iago. Good Sir, be a man: +Thinke euery bearded fellow that's but yoak'd +May draw with you. There's Millions now aliue, +That nightly lye in those vnproper beds, +Which they dare sweare peculiar. Your case is better. +Oh, 'tis the spight of hell, the Fiends Arch-mock, +To lip a wanton in a secure Cowch; +And to suppose her chast. No, let me know, +And knowing what I am, I know what she shallbe + + Oth. Oh, thou art wise: 'tis certaine + + Iago. Stand you a while apart, +Confine your selfe but in a patient List, +Whil'st you were heere, o're-whelmed with your griefe +(A passion most resulting such a man) +Cassio came hither: I shifted him away, +And layd good scuses vpon your Extasie, +Bad him anon returne: and heere speake with me, +The which he promis'd. Do but encaue your selfe, +And marke the Fleeres, the Gybes, and notable Scornes +That dwell in euery Region of his face. +For I will make him tell the Tale anew; +Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when +He hath, and is againe to cope your wife. +I say, but marke his gesture: marry Patience, +Or I shall say y'are all in all in Spleene, +And nothing of a man + + Othe. Do'st thou heare, Iago, +I will be found most cunning in my Patience: +But (do'st thou heare) most bloody + + Iago. That's not amisse, +But yet keepe time in all: will you withdraw? +Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, +A Huswife that by selling her desires +Buyes her selfe Bread, and Cloath. It is a Creature +That dotes on Cassio, (as 'tis the Strumpets plague +To be-guile many, and be be-guil'd by one) +He, when he heares of her, cannot restraine +From the excesse of Laughter. Heere he comes. +Enter Cassio. + +As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad: +And his vnbookish Ielousie must conserue +Poore Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behauiours +Quite in the wrong. How do you Lieutenant? + Cas. The worser, that you giue me the addition, +Whose want euen killes me + + Iago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't: +Now, if this Suit lay in Bianca's dowre, +How quickely should you speed? + Cas. Alas poore Caitiffe + + Oth. Looke how he laughes already + + Iago. I neuer knew woman loue man so + + Cas. Alas poore Rogue, I thinke indeed she loues me + + Oth. Now he denies it faintly: and laughes it out + + Iago. Do you heare Cassio? + Oth. Now he importunes him +To tell it o're: go too, well said, well said + + Iago. She giues it out, that you shall marry her. +Do you intend it? + Cas. Ha, ha, ha + + Oth. Do ye triumph, Romaine? do you triumph? + Cas. I marry. What? A customer; prythee beare +Some Charitie to my wit, do not thinke it +So vnwholesome. Ha, ha, ha + + Oth. So, so, so, so: they laugh, that winnes + + Iago. Why the cry goes, that you marry her + + Cas. Prythee say true + + Iago. I am a very Villaine else + + Oth. Haue you scoar'd me? Well + + Cas. This is the Monkeys owne giuing out: +She is perswaded I will marry her +Out of her owne loue & flattery, not out of my promise + + Oth. Iago becomes me: now he begins the story + + Cassio. She was heere euen now: she haunts me in euery +place. I was the other day talking on the Seabanke +with certaine Venetians, and thither comes the +Bauble, and falls me thus about my neck + + Oth. Crying oh deere Cassio, as it were: his iesture imports +it + + Cassio. So hangs, and lolls, and weepes vpon me: +So shakes, and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha + + Oth. Now he tells how she pluckt him to my Chamber: +oh, I see that nose of yours, but not that dogge, I +shall throw it to + + Cassio. Well, I must leaue her companie + + Iago. Before me: looke where she comes. +Enter Bianca. + + Cas. 'Tis such another Fitchew: marry a perfum'd one? +What do you meane by this haunting of me? + Bian. Let the diuell, and his dam haunt you: what +did you meane by that same Handkerchiefe, you gaue +me euen now? I was a fine Foole to take it: I must take +out the worke? A likely piece of worke, that you should +finde it in your Chamber, and know not who left it there. +This is some Minxes token, & I must take out the worke? +There, giue it your Hobbey-horse, wheresoeuer you had +it, Ile take out no worke on't + + Cassio. How now, my sweete Bianca? +How now? How now? + Othe. By Heauen, that should be my Handkerchiefe + + Bian. If you'le come to supper to night you may, if +you will not come when you are next prepar'd for. + +Exit + + Iago. After her: after her + + Cas. I must, shee'l rayle in the streets else + + Iago. Will you sup there? + Cassio. Yes, I intend so + + Iago. Well, I may chance to see you: for I would very +faine speake with you + + Cas. Prythee come: will you? + Iago. Go too; say no more + + Oth. How shall I murther him, Iago + + Iago. Did you perceiue how he laugh'd at his vice? + Oth. Oh, Iago + + Iago. And did you see the Handkerchiefe? + Oth. Was that mine? + Iago. Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizes +the foolish woman your wife: she gaue it him and, he +hath giu'n it his whore + + Oth. I would haue him nine yeeres a killing: +A fine woman, a faire woman, a sweete woman? + Iago. Nay, you must forget that + + Othello. I, let her rot and perish, and be damn'd to +night, for she shall not liue. No, my heart is turn'd to +stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand. Oh, the world +hath not a sweeter Creature: she might lye by an Emperours +side, and command him Taskes + + Iago. Nay, that's not your way + + Othe. Hang her, I do but say what she is: so delicate +with her Needle: an admirable Musitian. Oh she will +sing the Sauagenesse out of a Beare: of so high and plenteous +wit, and inuention? + Iago. She's the worse for all this + + Othe. Oh, a thousand, a thousand times: +And then of so gentle a condition? + Iago. I too gentle + + Othe. Nay that's certaine: +But yet the pitty of it, Iago: oh Iago, the pitty of it +Iago + + Iago. If you are so fond ouer her iniquitie: giue her +pattent to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes neere +no body + + Oth. I will chop her into Messes: Cuckold me? + Iago. Oh, 'tis foule in her + + Oth. With mine Officer? + Iago. That's fouler + + Othe. Get me some poyson, Iago, this night. Ile not +expostulate with her: least her body and beautie vnprouide +my mind againe: this night Iago + + Iago. Do it not with poyson, strangle her in her bed, +Euen the bed she hath contaminated + + Oth. Good, good: +The Iustice of it pleases: very good + + Iago. And for Cassio, let me be his vndertaker: +You shall heare more by midnight. +Enter Lodouico, Desdemona, and Attendants. + + Othe. Excellent good: What Trumpet is that same? + Iago. I warrant something from Venice, +'Tis Lodouico, this, comes from the Duke. +See, your wife's with him + + Lodo. Saue you worthy Generall + + Othe. With all my heart Sir + + Lod. The Duke, and the Senators of Venice greet you + + Othe. I kisse the Instrument of their pleasures + + Des. And what's the newes, good cozen Lodouico + Iago. I am very glad to see you Signior: +Welcome to Cyprus + + Lod. I thanke you: how do's Lieutenant Cassio? + Iago. Liues Sir, + Des. Cozen, there's falne betweene him, & my Lord, +An vnkind breach: but you shall make all well + + Othe. Are you sure of that? + Des. My Lord? + Othe. This faile you not to do, as you will- + Lod. He did not call: he's busie in the paper, +Is there deuision 'twixt my Lord, and Cassio? + Des. A most vnhappy one: I would do much +T' attone, them, for the loue I beare to Cassio + + Oth. Fire, and brimestone + + Des. My Lord + + Oth. Are you wise? + Des. What is he angrie? + Lod. May be the Letter mou'd him. +For as I thinke, they do command him home, +Deputing Cassio in his Gouernment + + Des. Trust me, I am glad on't + + Othe. Indeed? + Des. My Lord? + Othe. I am glad to see you mad + + Des. Why, sweete Othello? + Othe. Diuell + + Des. I haue not deseru'd this + + Lod. My Lord, this would not be beleeu'd in Venice, +Though I should sweare I saw't. 'Tis very much, +Make her amends: she weepes + + Othe. Oh diuell, diuell: +If that the Earth could teeme with womans teares, +Each drop she falls, would proue a Crocodile: +Out of my sight + + Des. I will not stay to offend you + + Lod. Truely obedient Lady: +I do beseech your Lordship call her backe + + Othe. Mistris + + Des. My Lord + + Othe. What would you with her, Sir? + Lod. Who I, my Lord? + Othe. I, you did wish, that I would make her turne: +Sir, she can turne, and turne: and yet go on +And turne againe. And she can weepe, Sir, weepe. +And she's obedient: as you say obedient. +Very obedient: proceed you in your teares. +Concerning this Sir, (oh well-painted passion) +I am commanded home: get you away: +Ile send for you anon. Sir I obey the Mandate, +And will returne to Venice. Hence, auaunt: +Cassio shall haue my Place. And Sir, to night +I do entreat, that we may sup together. +You are welcome Sir to Cyprus. +Goates, and Monkeys. +Enter. + + Lod. Is this the Noble Moore, whom our full Senate +Call all in all sufficient? Is this the Nature +Whom Passion could not shake? Whose solid vertue +The shot of Accident, nor dart of Chance +Could neither graze, nor pierce? + Iago. He is much chang'd + + Lod. Are his wits safe? Is he not light of Braine? + Iago. He's that he is: I may not breath my censure. +What he might be: if what he might, he is not, +I would to heauen he were + + Lod. What? Strike his wife? + Iago. 'Faith that was not so well: yet would I knew +That stroke would proue the worst + + Lod. Is it his vse? +Or did the Letters, worke vpon his blood, +And new create his fault? + Iago. Alas, alas: +It is not honestie in me to speake +What I haue seene, and knowne. You shall obserue him, +And his owne courses will denote him so, +That I may saue my speech: do but go after +And marke how he continues + + Lod. I am sorry that I am deceiu'd in him. + +Exeunt. + + +Scena Secunda. + +Enter Othello and aemilia. + + Othe. You haue seene nothing then? +Aemil. Nor euer heard: nor euer did suspect + + Othe. Yes, you haue seene Cassio, and she together + + Aemi. But then I saw no harme: and then I heard, +Each syllable that breath made vp betweene them + + Othe. What? Did they neuer whisper? +Aemil. Neuer my Lord + + Othe. Nor send you out o'th' way? +Aemil. Neuer + + Othe. To fetch her Fan, her Gloues, her Mask, nor nothing? +Aemil. Neuer my Lord + + Othe. That's strange. +Aemil. I durst (my Lord) to wager, she is honest: +Lay downe my Soule at stake: If you thinke other, +Remoue your thought. It doth abuse your bosome: +If any wretch haue put this in your head, +Let Heauen requit it with the Serpents curse, +For if she be not honest, chaste, and true, +There's no man happy. The purest of their Wiues +Is foule as Slander + + Othe. Bid her come hither: go. + +Exit aemilia. + +She saies enough: yet she's a simple Baud +That cannot say as much. This is a subtile Whore: +A Closset Locke and Key of Villanous Secrets, +And yet she'le kneele, and pray: I haue seene her do't. +Enter Desdemona, and aemilia. + + Des. My Lord, what is your will? + Othe. Pray you Chucke come hither + + Des. What is your pleasure? + Oth. Let me see your eyes: looke in my face + + Des. What horrible Fancie's this? + Othe. Some of your Function Mistris: +Leaue Procreants alone, and shut the doore: +Cough, or cry hem; if any body come: +Your Mystery, your Mystery: May dispatch. + +Exit aemi. + + Des. Vpon my knee, what doth your speech import? +I vnderstand a Fury in your words + + Othe. Why? What art thou? + Des. Your wife my Lord: your true and loyall wife + + Othello. Come sweare it: damne thy selfe, least +being like one of Heauen, the diuells themselues should +feare to ceaze thee. Therefore be double damn'd: sweare +thou art honest + + Des. Heauen doth truely know it + + Othe. Heauen truely knowes, that thou art false as hell + + Des. To whom my Lord? +With whom? How am I false? + Othe. Ah Desdemon, away, away, away + + Des. Alas the heauy day: why do you weepe? +Am I the motiue of these teares my Lord? +If happely you my Father do suspect, +An Instrument of this your calling backe, +Lay not your blame on me: if you haue lost him, +I haue lost him too + + Othe. Had it pleas'd Heauen, +To try me with Affliction, had they rain'd +All kind of Sores, and Shames on my bare-head: +Steep'd me in pouertie to the very lippes. +Giuen to Captiuitie, me, and my vtmost hopes, +I should haue found in some place of my Soule +A drop of patience. But alas, to make me +The fixed Figure for the time of Scorne, +To point his slow, and mouing finger at. +Yet could I beare that too, well, very well: +But there where I haue garnerd vp my heart, +Where either I must liue, or beare no life, +The Fountaine from the which my currant runnes, +Or else dries vp: to be discarded thence, +Or keepe it as a Cesterne, for foule Toades +To knot and gender in. Turne thy complexion there: +Patience, thou young and Rose-lip'd Cherubin, +I heere looke grim as hell + + Des. I hope my Noble Lord esteemes me honest + + Othe. Oh I, as Sommer Flyes are in the Shambles, +That quicken euen with blowing. Oh thou weed: +Who art so louely faire, and smell'st so sweete, +That the Sense akes at thee, +Would thou had'st neuer bin borne + + Des. Alas, what ignorant sin haue I committed? + Othe. Was this faire Paper? This most goodly Booke +Made to write Whore vpon? What commited, +Committed? Oh, thou publicke Commoner, +I should make very Forges of my cheekes, +That would to Cynders burne vp Modestie, +Did I but speake thy deedes. What commited? +Heauen stoppes the Nose at it, and the Moone winks: +The baudy winde that kisses all it meetes, +Is hush'd within the hollow Myne of Earth +And will not hear't. What commited? + Des. By Heauen you do me wrong + + Othe. Are not you a Strumpet? + Des. No, as I am a Christian. +If to preserue this vessell for my Lord, +From any other foule vnlawfull touch +Be not to be a Strumpet, I am none + + Othe. What, not a Whore? + Des. No, as I shall be sau'd + + Othe. Is't possible? + Des. Oh Heauen forgiue vs + + Othe. I cry you mercy then. +I tooke you for that cunning Whore of Venice, +That married with Othello. You Mistris, +Enter aemilia. + +That haue the office opposite to Saint Peter, +And keepes the gate of hell. You, you: I you. +We haue done our course: there's money for your paines: +I pray you turne the key, and keepe our counsaile. +Enter. + +Aemil. Alas, what do's this Gentleman conceiue? +How do you Madam? how do you my good Lady? + Des. Faith, halfe a sleepe + + Aemi. Good Madam, +What's the matter with my Lord? + Des. With who? +Aemil. Why, with my Lord, Madam? + Des. Who is thy Lord? +Aemil. He that is yours, sweet Lady + + Des. I haue none: do not talke to me, aemilia, +I cannot weepe: nor answeres haue I none, +But what should go by water. Prythee to night, +Lay on my bed my wedding sheetes, remember, +And call thy husband hither. +Aemil. Heere's a change indeed. +Enter. + + Des. 'Tis meete I should be vs'd so: very meete. +How haue I bin behau'd, that he might sticke +The small'st opinion on my least misvse? +Enter Iago, and aemilia. + + Iago. What is your pleasure Madam? +How is't with you? + Des. I cannot tell: those that do teach yong Babes +Do it with gentle meanes, and easie taskes. +He might haue chid me so; for in good faith +I am a Child to chiding + + Iago. What is the matter Lady? +Aemil. Alas (Iago) my Lord hath so bewhor'd her, +Throwne such dispight, and heauy termes vpon her +That true hearts cannot beare it + + Des. Am I that name, Iago? + Iago. What name, (faire Lady?) + Des. Such as she said my Lord did say I was. +Aemil. He call'd her whore: a Begger in his drinke: +Could not haue laid such termes vpon his Callet + + Iago. Why did he so? + Des. I do not know: I am sure I am none such + + Iago. Do not weepe, do not weepe: alas the day. +Aemil. Hath she forsooke so many Noble Matches? +Her Father? And her Country? And her Friends? +To be call'd Whore? Would it not make one weepe? + Des. It is my wretched Fortune + + Iago. Beshrew him for't: +How comes this Tricke vpon him? + Des. Nay, Heauen doth know + + Aemi. I will be hang'd, if some eternall Villaine, +Some busie and insinuating Rogue, +Some cogging, cozening Slaue, to get some Office, +Haue not deuis'd this Slander: I will be hang'd else + + Iago. Fie, there is no such man: it is impossible + + Des. If any such there be, Heauen pardon him. +Aemil. A halter pardon him: +And hell gnaw his bones. +Why should he call her Whore? +Who keepes her companie? +What Place? What Time? +What Forme? What liklyhood? +The Moore's abus'd by some most villanous Knaue, +Some base notorious Knaue, some scuruy Fellow. +Oh Heauens, that such companions thou'd'st vnfold, +And put in euery honest hand a whip +To lash the Rascalls naked through the world, +Euen from the East to th' West + + Iago. Speake within doore. +Aemil. Oh fie vpon them: some such Squire he was +That turn'd your wit, the seamy-side without, +And made you to suspect me with the Moore + + Iago. You are a Foole: go too + + Des. Alas Iago, +What shall I do to win my Lord againe? +Good Friend, go to him: for by this light of Heauen, +I know not how I lost him. Heere I kneele: +If ere my will did trespasse 'gainst his Loue, +Either in discourse of thought, or actuall deed, +Or that mine Eyes, mine Eares, or any Sence +Delighted them: or any other Forme. +Or that I do not yet, and euer did, +And euer will, (though he do shake me off +To beggerly diuorcement) Loue him deerely, +Comfort forsweare me. Vnkindnesse may do much, +And his vnkindnesse may defeat my life, +But neuer taynt my Loue. I cannot say Whore, +It do's abhorre me now I speake the word, +To do the Act, that might the addition earne, +Not the worlds Masse of vanitie could make me + + Iago. I pray you be content: 'tis but his humour: +The businesse of the State do's him offence + + Des. If 'twere no other + + Iago. It is but so, I warrant, +Hearke how these Instruments summon to supper: +The Messengers of Venice staies the meate, +Go in, and weepe not: all things shall be well. + +Exeunt. Desdemona and aemilia. + +Enter Rodorigo. + +How now Rodorigo? + Rod. I do not finde +That thou deal'st iustly with me + + Iago. What in the contrarie? + Rodori. Euery day thou dafts me with some deuise +Iago, and rather, as it seemes to me now, keep'st from +me all conueniencie, then suppliest me with the least aduantage +of hope: I will indeed no longer endure it. Nor +am I yet perswaded to put vp in peace, what already I +haue foolishly suffred + + Iago. Will you heare me Rodorigo? + Rodori. I haue heard too much: and your words and +Performances are no kin together + + Iago. You charge me most vniustly + + Rodo. With naught but truth: I haue wasted my +selfe out of my meanes. The Iewels you haue had from +me to deliuer Desdemona, would halfe haue corrupted a +Votarist. You haue told me she hath receiu'd them, +and return'd me expectations and comforts of sodaine +respect, and acquaintance, but I finde none + + Iago. Well, go too: very well + + Rod. Very well, go too: I cannot go too, (man) nor +'tis not very well. Nay I think it is scuruy: and begin to +finde my selfe fopt in it + + Iago. Very well + + Rodor. I tell you, 'tis not very well: I will make my +selfe knowne to Desdemona. If she will returne me my +Iewels, I will giue ouer my Suit, and repent my vnlawfull +solicitation. If not, assure your selfe, I will seeke +satisfaction of you + + Iago. You haue said now + + Rodo. I: and said nothing but what I protest intendment +of doing + + Iago. Why, now I see there's mettle in thee: and +euen from this instant do build on thee a better opinion +then euer before: giue me thy hand Rodorigo. +Thou hast taken against me a most iust exception: +but yet I protest I haue dealt most directly in thy +Affaire + + Rod. It hath not appeer'd + + Iago. I grant indeed it hath not appeer'd: and +your suspition is not without wit and iudgement. +But Rodorigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which +I haue greater reason to beleeue now then euer (I +meane purpose, Courage, and Valour) this night +shew it. If thou the next night following enioy not +Desdemona, take me from this world with Treacherie, +and deuise Engines for my life + + Rod. Well: what is it? Is it within, reason and compasse? + Iago. Sir, there is especiall Commission come from +Venice to depute Cassio in Othello's place + + Rod. Is that true? Why then Othello and Desdemona +returne againe to Venice + + Iago. Oh no: he goes into Mauritania and taketh +away with him the faire Desdemona, vnlesse his abode +be lingred heere by some accident. Wherein +none can be so determinate, as the remouing of +Cassio + + Rod. How do you meane remouing him? + Iago. Why, by making him vncapable of Othello's +place: knocking out his braines + + Rod. And that you would haue me to do + + Iago. I: if you dare do your selfe a profit, and a +right. He sups to night with a Harlotry: and thither +will I go to him. He knowes not yet of his Honourable +Fortune, if you will watch his going thence (which +I will fashion to fall out betweene twelue and one) +you may take him at your pleasure. I will be neere +to second your Attempt, and he shall fall betweene +vs. Come, stand not amaz'd at it, but go along with +me: I will shew you such a necessitie in his death, that +you shall thinke your selfe bound to put it on him. It +is now high supper time: and the night growes to wast. +About it + + Rod. I will heare further reason for this + + Iago. And you shalbe satisfi'd. + +Exeunt. + + +Scena Tertia. + +Enter Othello, Lodouico, Desdemona, aemilia, and Atendants. + + Lod. I do beseech you Sir, trouble your selfe no further + + Oth. Oh pardon me: 'twill do me good to walke + + Lodoui. Madam, good night: I humbly thanke your +Ladyship + + Des. Your Honour is most welcome + + Oth. Will you walke Sir? Oh Desdemona + + Des. My Lord + + Othello. Get you to bed on th' instant, I will be return'd +forthwith: dismisse your Attendant there: look't +be done. +Enter. + + Des. I will my Lord + + Aem. How goes it now? He lookes gentler then he did + + Des. He saies he will returne incontinent, +And hath commanded me to go to bed, +And bid me to dismisse you + + Aemi. Dismisse me? + Des. It was his bidding: therefore good aemilia, +Giue me my nightly wearing, and adieu. +We must not now displease him. +Aemil. I, would you had neuer seene him + + Des. So would not I: my loue doth so approue him, +That euen his stubbornesse, his checks, his frownes, +(Prythee vn-pin me) haue grace and fauour + + Aemi. I haue laid those Sheetes you bad me on the bed + + Des. All's one: good Father, how foolish are our minds? +If I do die before, prythee shrow'd me +In one of these same Sheetes. +Aemil. Come, come: you talke + + Des. My Mother had a Maid call'd Barbarie, +She was in loue: and he she lou'd prou'd mad, +And did forsake her. She had a Song of Willough, +An old thing 'twas: but it express'd her Fortune, +And she dy'd singing it. That Song to night, +Will not go from my mind: I haue much to do, +But to go hang my head all at one side +And sing it like poore Barbarie: prythee dispatch + + Aemi. Shall I go fetch your Night-gowne? + Des. No, vn-pin me here, +This Lodouico is a proper man. +Aemil. A very handsome man + + Des. He speakes well. +Aemil. I know a Lady in Venice would haue walk'd +barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip + + Des. The poore Soule sat singing, by a Sicamour tree. +Sing all a greene Willough: +Her hand on her bosome her head on her knee, +Sing Willough, Willough, Willough. +The fresh Streames ran by her, and murmur'd her moanes +Sing Willough, &c. +Her salt teares fell from her, and softned the stones, +Sing Willough, &c. (Lay by these) +Willough, Willough. (Prythee high thee: he'le come anon) +Sing all a greene Willough must be my Garland. +Let no body blame him, his scorne I approue. +(Nay that's not next. Harke, who is't that knocks? +Aemil. It's the wind + + Des. I call'd my Loue false Loue: but what said he then? +Sing Willough, &c. +If I court mo women, you'le couch with mo men. +So get thee gone, good night: mine eyes do itch: +Doth that boade weeping? +Aemil. 'Tis neyther heere, nor there + + Des. I haue heard it said so. O these Men, these men! +Do'st thou in conscience thinke (tell me aemilia) +That there be women do abuse their husbands +In such grosse kinde? +Aemil. There be some such, no question + + Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for all the world? +Aemil. Why, would not you? + Des. No, by this Heauenly light. +Aemil. Nor I neither, by this Heauenly light: +I might doo't as well i'th' darke + + Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for al the world? +Aemil. The world's a huge thing: +It is a great price, for a small vice + + Des. Introth, I thinke thou would'st not. +Aemil. Introth I thinke I should, and vndoo't when +I had done. Marry, I would not doe such a thing for a +ioynt Ring, nor for measures of Lawne, nor for Gownes, +Petticoats, nor Caps, nor any petty exhibition. But for +all the whole world: why, who would not make her husband +a Cuckold, to make him a Monarch? I should venture +Purgatory for't + + Des. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong +For the whole world. +Aemil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'th' world; +and hauing the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in +your owne world, and you might quickly make it right + + Des. I do not thinke there is any such woman. +Aemil. Yes, a dozen: and as many to'th' vantage, as +would store the world they plaid for. +But I do thinke it is their Husbands faults +If Wiues do fall: (Say, that they slacke their duties, +And powre our Treasures into forraigne laps; +Or else breake out in peeuish Iealousies, +Throwing restraint vpon vs: Or say they strike vs, +Or scant our former hauing in despight) +Why we haue galles: and though we haue some Grace, +Yet haue we some Reuenge. Let Husbands know, +Their wiues haue sense like them: They see, and smell, +And haue their Palats both for sweet, and sowre, +As Husbands haue. What is it that they do, +When they change vs for others? Is it Sport? +I thinke it is: and doth Affection breed it? +I thinke it doth. Is't Frailty that thus erres? +It is so too. And haue not we Affections? +Desires for Sport? and Frailty, as men haue? +Then let them vse vs well: else let them know, +The illes we do, their illes instruct vs so + + Des. Good night, good night: +Heauen me such vses send, +Not to picke bad, from bad; but by bad, mend. + +Exeunt. + +Actus Quintus. Scena Prima. + +Enter Iago, and Rodorigo. + + Iago. Heere, stand behinde this Barke, +Straight will he come: +Weare thy good Rapier bare, and put it home: +Quicke, quicke, feare nothing; Ile be at thy Elbow, +It makes vs, or it marres vs, thinke on that, +And fixe most firme thy Resolution + + Rod. Be neere at hand, I may miscarry in't + + Iago. Heere, at thy hand: Be bold, & take thy stand + + Rod. I haue no great deuotion to the deed, +And yet he hath giuen me satisfying Reasons: +'Tis but a man gone. Forth my Sword: he dies + + Iago. I haue rub'd this yong Quat almost to the sense, +And he growes angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio, +Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other, +Euery way makes my gaine. Liue Rodorigo, +He calles me to a restitution large +Of Gold, and Iewels, that I bob'd from him, +As Guifts to Desdemona. +It must not be: If Cassio do remaine, +He hath a dayly beauty in his life, +That makes me vgly: and besides, the Moore +May vnfold me to him: there stand I in much perill: +No, he must dye. But so, I heard him comming. +Enter Cassio. + + Rod. I know his gate, 'tis he: Villaine thou dyest + + Cas. That thrust had beene mine enemy indeed, +But that my Coate is better then thou know'st: +I will make proofe of thine + + Rod. Oh, I am slaine + + Cassio. I am maym'd for euer: +Helpe hoa: Murther, murther. +Enter Othello. + + Oth. The voyce of Cassio. Iago keepes his word + + Rod. O Villaine that I am + + Oth. It is euen so + + Cas. Oh helpe hoa: Light, a Surgeon + + Oth. 'Tis he: O braue Iago, honest, and iust, +That hast such Noble sense of thy Friends wrong, +Thou teachest me. Minion, your deere lyes dead, +And your vnblest Fate highes: Strumpet I come: +For of my heart, those Charmes thine Eyes, are blotted. +Thy Bed lust-stain'd, shall with Lusts blood bee spotted. + +Exit Othello. + +Enter Lodouico and Gratiano. + + Cas. What hoa? no Watch? No passage? +Murther, Murther + + Gra. 'Tis some mischance, the voyce is very direfull + + Cas. Oh helpe + + Lodo. Hearke + + Rod. Oh wretched Villaine + + Lod. Two or three groane. 'Tis heauy night; +These may be counterfeits: Let's think't vnsafe +To come into the cry, without more helpe + + Rod. Nobody come: then shall I bleed to death. +Enter Iago. + + Lod. Hearke + + Gra. Here's one comes in his shirt, with Light, and +Weapons + + Iago. Who's there? +Who's noyse is this that cries on murther? + Lodo. We do not know + + Iago. Do not you heare a cry? + Cas. Heere, heere: for heauen sake helpe me + + Iago. What's the matter? + Gra. This is Othello's Ancient, as I take it + + Lodo. The same indeede, a very valiant Fellow + + Iago. What are you heere, that cry so greeuously? + Cas. Iago? Oh I am spoyl'd, vndone by Villaines: +Giue me some helpe + + Iago. O mee, Lieutenant! +What Villaines haue done this? + Cas. I thinke that one of them is heereabout. +And cannot make away + + Iago. Oh treacherous Villaines: +What are you there? Come in, and giue some helpe + + Rod. O helpe me there + + Cassio. That's one of them + + Iago. Oh murd'rous Slaue! O Villaine! + Rod. O damn'd Iago! O inhumane Dogge! + Iago. Kill men i'th' darke? +Where be these bloody Theeues? +How silent is this Towne? Hoa, murther, murther. +What may you be? Are you of good, or euill? + Lod. As you shall proue vs, praise vs + + Iago. Signior Lodouico? + Lod. He Sir + + Iago. I cry you mercy: here's Cassio hurt by Villaines + + Gra. Cassio? + Iago. How is't Brother? + Cas. My Legge is cut in two + + Iago. Marry heauen forbid: +Light Gentlemen, Ile binde it with my shirt. +Enter Bianca. + + Bian. What is the matter hoa? Who is't that cry'd? + Iago. Who is't that cry'd? + Bian. Oh my deere Cassio, +My sweet Cassio: Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio + + Iago. O notable Strumpet. Cassio, may you suspect +Who they should be, that haue thus mangled you? + Cas. No + + Gra. I am sorry to finde you thus; +I haue beene to seeke you + + Iago. Lend me a Garter. So: - Oh for a Chaire +To beare him easily hence + + Bian. Alas he faints. Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio + + Iago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this Trash +To be a party in this Iniurie. +Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come; +Lend me a Light: know we this face, or no? +Alas my Friend, and my deere Countryman +Rodorigo? No: Yes sure: Yes, 'tis Rodorigo + + Gra. What, of Venice? + Iago. Euen he Sir: Did you know him? + Gra. Know him? I + + Iago. Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon: +These bloody accidents must excuse my Manners, +That so neglected you + + Gra. I am glad to see you + + Iago. How do you Cassio? Oh, a Chaire, a Chaire + + Gra. Rodorigo? + Iago. He, he, 'tis he: +Oh that's well said, the Chaire. +Some good man beare him carefully from hence, +Ile fetch the Generall's Surgeon. For you Mistris, +Saue you your labour. He that lies slaine heere (Cassio) +Was my deere friend. What malice was between you + + Cas. None in the world: nor do I know the man? + Iago. What? looke you pale? Oh beare him o'th' Ayre. +Stay you good Gentlemen. Looke you pale, Mistris? +Do you perceiue the gastnesse of her eye? +Nay, if you stare, we shall heare more anon. +Behold her well: I pray you looke vpon her: +Do you see Gentlemen? Nay, guiltinesse will speake +Though tongues were out of vse. +Aemil. Alas, what is the matter? +What is the matter, Husband? + Iago. Cassio hath heere bin set on in the darke +By Rodorigo, and Fellowes that are scap'd: +He's almost slaine, and Rodorigo quite dead. +Aemil. Alas good Gentleman: alas good Cassio + + Iago. This is the fruits of whoring. Prythe aemilia, +Go know of Cassio where he supt to night. +What, do you shake at that? + Bian. He supt at my house, but I therefore shake not + + Iago. O did he so? I charge you go with me. +Aemil. Oh fie vpon thee Strumpet + + Bian. I am no Strumpet, but of life as honest, +As you that thus abuse me. +Aemil. As I? Fie vpon thee + + Iago. Kinde Gentlemen: +Let's go see poore Cassio drest. +Come Mistris, you must tel's another Tale. +aemilia, run you to the Cittadell, +And tell my Lord and Lady, what hath happ'd: +Will you go on afore? This is the night +That either makes me, or foredoes me quight. + +Exeunt. + +Scoena Secunda. + +Enter Othello, and Desdemona in her bed. + + Oth. It is the Cause, it is the Cause (my Soule) +Let me not name it to you, you chaste Starres, +It is the Cause. Yet Ile not shed her blood, +Nor scarre that whiter skin of hers, then Snow, +And smooth as Monumentall Alablaster: +Yet she must dye, else shee'l betray more men: +Put out the Light, and then put out the Light: +If I quench thee, thou flaming Minister, +I can againe thy former light restore, +Should I repent me. But once put out thy Light, +Thou cunning'st Patterne of excelling Nature, +I know not where is that Promethaean heate +That can thy Light re-Lume. +When I haue pluck'd thy Rose, +I cannot giue it vitall growth againe, +It needs must wither. Ile smell thee on the Tree. +Oh Balmy breath, that dost almost perswade +Iustice to breake her Sword. One more, one more: +Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, +And loue thee after. One more, and that's the last. +So sweet, was ne're so fatall. I must weepe, +But they are cruell Teares: This sorrow's heauenly, +It strikes, where it doth loue. She wakes + + Des. Who's there? Othello? + Othel. I Desdemona + + Des. Will you come to bed, my Lord? + Oth. Haue you pray'd to night, Desdemon? + Des. I my Lord + + Oth. If you bethinke your selfe of any Crime +Vnreconcil'd as yet to Heauen, and Grace, +Solicite for it straight + + Des. Alacke, my Lord, +What may you meane by that? + Oth. Well, do it, and be breefe, I will walke by: +I would not kill thy vnprepared Spirit, +No, Heauens fore-fend) I would not kill thy Soule + + Des. Talke you of killing? + Oth. I, I do + + Des. Then Heauen haue mercy on mee + + Oth. Amen, with all my heart + + Des. If you say, I hope you will not kill me + + Oth. Humh + + Des. And yet I feare you: for you're fatall then +When your eyes rowle so. +Why I should feare, I know not, +Since guiltinesse I know not: But yet I feele I feare + + Oth. Thinke on thy sinnes + + Des. They are Loues I beare to you + + Oth. I, and for that thou dy'st + + Des. That death's vnnaturall, that kils for louing. +Alas, why gnaw you so your nether-lip? +Some bloody passion shakes your very Frame: +These are portents: but yet I hope, I hope, +They do not point on me + + Oth. Peace, and be still + + Des. I will so: What's the matter? + Oth. That Handkerchiefe +Which I so lou'd, and gaue thee, thou gau'st to Cassio + + Des. No by my Life, and Soule: send for the man, +And aske him + + Oth. Sweet Soule, take heed, take heed of Periury, +Thou art on thy death-bed + + Des. I, but not yet to dye + + Oth. Presently. +Therefore confesse thee freely of thy sinne: +For to deny each Article with Oath, +Cannot remoue, nor choake the strong Conception +That I do grone withall. Thou art to dye + + Des. O Heauen haue mercy on me + + Oth. I say, Amen + + Des. And haue you mercy too. I neuer did +Offend you in my life: neuer lou'd Cassio, +But with such generall warrantie of Heauen, +As I might loue. I neuer gaue him Token + + Oth. By Heauen I saw my Handkerchiefe in's hand. +O periur'd woman, thou do'st stone my heart, +And makes me call, what I intend to do, +A Murther, which I thought a Sacrifice. +I saw the Handkerchiefe + + Des. He found it then: +I neuer gaue it him: Send, for him hither: +Let him confesse a truth + + Oth. He hath confest + + Des. What, my Lord? + Oth. That he hath vs'd thee + + Des. How? vnlawfully? + Oth. I + + Des. He will not say so + + Oth. No: his mouth is stopp'd: +Honest Iago hath 'tane order for't + + Des. Oh, my feare interprets. What is he dead? + Oth. Had all his haires bin liues, my great Reuenge +Had stomacke for them all + + Des. Alas, he is betray'd, and I vndone + + Oth. Out Strumpet: weep'st thou for him to my face? + Des. O banish me, my Lord, but kill me not + + Oth. Downe Strumpet + + Des. Kill me to morrow, let me liue to night + + Oth. Nay, if you striue + + Des. But halfe an houre + + Oth. Being done, there is no pawse + + Des. But while I say one prayer + + Oth. It is too late. + +Smothers her. + +aemilia at the doore. + +Aemil. My Lord, my Lord? What hoa? +My Lord, my Lord + + Oth. What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead? +I that am cruell, am yet mercifull, +I would not haue thee linger in thy paine? +So, so. +Aemil. within. What hoa? my Lord, my Lord? + Oth. Who's there? +Aemil. Oh good my Lord, I would speake a word +with you + + Oth. Yes: 'Tis aemilia: by and by. Shee's dead. +'Tis like she comes to speake of Cassio's death: +The noise was high. Hah, no more moouing? +Still as the Graue. Shall she come in? Wer't good? +I thinke she stirres againe. No, what's best to do? +If she come in, shee'l sure speake to my wife: +My wife, my wife: what wife? I haue no wife. +Oh insupportable! Oh heauy houre! +Me thinkes, it should be now a huge Eclipse +Of Sunne, and Moone; and that th' affrighted Globe +Did yawne at Alteration. +Aemil. I do beseech you +That I may speake with you. Oh good my Lord + + Oth. I had forgot thee: oh come in aemilia. +Soft, by and by, let me the Curtaines draw. +Where art thou? What's the matter with thee now? +Enter aemilia. + +Aemil. Oh my good Lord, yonders foule Murthers +done + + Oth. What? now? +Aemil. But now, my Lord + + Oth. It is the very error of the Moone, +She comes more neerer Earth then she was wont, +And makes men mad. +Aemil. Cassio, my Lord, hath kill'd +A young Venetian, call'd Rodorigo + + Oth. Rodorigo kill'd? and Cassio kill'd? +Aemil. No, Cassio is not kill'd + + Oth. Not Cassio kill'd? Then Murther's out of tune, +And sweet Reuenge growes harsh + + Des. O falsely, falsely murder'd. +Aemil. Alas! what cry is that? + Oth. That? What? +Aemil. Out, and alas, that was my Ladies voice. +Helpe, helpe hoa, helpe. Oh Ladie speake againe, +Sweet Desdemona, oh sweet Mistris, speake + + Des. A guiltlesse death, I dye. +Aemil. Oh who hath done this deed? + Des. No body: I my selfe, farewell: +Commend me to my kinde Lord: oh farewell + + Oth. Why, how should she be murdred? +Aemil. Alas: who knowes? + Oth. You heare her say her selfe, it was not I. +Aemil. She said so: I must needs report the truth + + Oth. She's like a Liar gone to burning hell, +'Twas I that kill'd her. +Aemil. Oh the more Angell she, and you the blacker +Diuell + + Oth. She turn'd to folly: and she was a whore. +Aemil. Thou do'st bely her, and thou art a diuell + + Oth. She was false as water. +Aemil. Thou art rash as fire, to say +That she was false. Oh she was heauenly true + + Oth. Cassio did top her: Ask thy husband else. +O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell: +But that I did proceed vpon iust grounds +To this extremity. Thy Husband knew it all. +Aemil. My Husband? + Oth. Thy Husband. +Aemil. That she was false to Wedlocke? + Oth. I, with Cassio: had she bin true, +If Heauen would make me such another world, +Of one entyre and perfect Chrysolite, +I'ld not haue sold her for it. +Aemil. My Husband? + Oth. I, 'twas he that told me on her first, +An honest man he is, and hates the slime +That stickes on filthy deeds. +Aemil. My Husband? + Oth. What needs this itterance, Woman? +I say, thy Husband. +Aemil. Oh Mistris, +Villany hath made mockes with loue: +My Husband say she was false? + Oth. He, Woman; +I say thy Husband: Do'st vnderstand the word? +My Friend, thy Husband; honest, honest Iago. +Aemil. If he say so, may his pernicious Soule +Rot halfe a graine a day: he lyes to'th' heart, +She was too fond of her most filthy Bargaine + + Oth. Hah? +Aemil. Do thy worst: +This deede of thine is no more worthy Heauen, +Then thou was't worthy her + + Oth. Peace, you were best. +Aemil. Thou hast not halfe that powre to do me harm, +As I haue to be hurt. Oh Gull, oh dolt, +As ignorant as durt: thou hast done a deed +(I care not for thy Sword) Ile make thee known, +Though I lost twenty liues. Helpe, helpe, hoa, helpe: +The Moore hath kill'd my Mistris. Murther, murther. +Enter Montano, Gratiano, and Iago. + + Mon. What is the matter? How now Generall? +Aemil. Oh, are you come, Iago: you haue done well, +That men must lay their Murthers on your necke + + Gra. What is the matter? +Aemil. Disproue this Villaine, if thou bee'st a man: +He sayes, thou told'st him that his wife was false: +I know thou did'st not: thou'rt not such a Villain. +Speake, for my heart is full + + Iago. I told him what I thought, +And told no more +Then what he found himselfe was apt, and true. +Aemil. But did you euer tell him, +She was false? + Iago. I did. +Aemil. You told a Lye an odious damned Lye: +Vpon my Soule, a Lye; a wicked Lye. +Shee false with Cassio? +Did you say with Cassio? + Iago. With Cassio, Mistris? +Go too, charme your tongue + + Emil. I will not charme my Tongue; +I am bound to speake, +My Mistris heere lyes murthered in her bed + + All. Oh Heauens, forefend + + Emil. And your reports haue set the Murder on + + Othello. Nay stare not Masters, +It is true indeede + + Gra. 'Tis a strange Truth + + Mont. O monstrous Acte + + Emil. Villany, villany, villany: +I thinke vpon't, I thinke: I smel't: O Villany: +I thought so then: Ile kill my selfe for greefe. +O villany! villany! + Iago. What, are you mad? +I charge you get you home + + Emil. Good Gentlemen, let me haue leaue to speake: +'Tis proper I obey him; but not now: +Perchance Iago, I will ne're go home + + Oth. Oh, oh, oh + + Emil. Nay, lay thee downe, and roare: +For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent, +That ere did lift vp eye + + Oth. Oh she was fowle! +I scarse did know you Vnkle, there lies your Neece, +Whose breath (indeed) these hands haue newly stopp'd: +I know this acte shewes horrible and grim + + Gra. Poore Desdemon: +I am glad thy Father's dead, +Thy Match was mortall to him: and pure greefe +Shore his old thred in twaine. Did he liue now, +This sight would make him do a desperate turne: +Yea, curse his better Angell from his side, +And fall to Reprobance + + Oth. 'Tis pittifull: but yet Iago knowes +That she with Cassio, hath the Act of shame +A thousand times committed. Cassio confest it, +And she did gratifie his amorous workes +With that Recognizance and pledge of Loue +Which I first gaue her: I saw it in his hand: +It was a Handkerchiefe, an Antique Token +My Father gaue my Mother + + Emil. Oh Heauen! oh heauenly Powres! + Iago. Come, hold your peace + + Emil. 'Twill out, 'twill out. I peace? +No, I will speake as liberall as the North; +Let Heauen, and Men, and Diuels, let them all, +All, all, crie shame against me, yet Ile speake + + Iago. Be wise, and get you home + + Emil. I will not + + Gra. Fye, your Sword vpon a Woman + + Emil. Oh thou dull Moore, +That Handkerchiefe thou speak'st of +I found by Fortune, and did giue my Husband: +For often, with a solemne earnestnesse, +(More then indeed belong'd to such a Trifle) +He begg'd of me, to steale't + + Iago. Villanous Whore + + Emil. She giue it Cassio? No, alas I found it, +And I did giu't my Husband + + Iago. Filth, thou lyest + + Emil. By Heauen I do not, I do not Gentlemen: +Oh murd'rous Coxcombe, what should such a Foole +Do with so good a wife? + Oth. Are there no stones in Heauen, +But what serues for the Thunder? +Precious Villaine + + Gra. The woman falles: +Sure he hath kill'd his Wife + + Emil. I, I: oh lay me by my Mistris side + + Gra. Hee's gone, but his wife's kill'd + + Mon. 'Tis a notorious Villain: take you this weapon +Which I haue recouer'd from the Moore: +Come guard the doore without, let him not passe, +But kill him rather. Ile after that same villaine, +For 'tis a damned Slaue. +Enter. + + Oth. I am not valiant neither: +But euery Punie whipster gets my Sword. +But why should Honor out-liue Honesty? +Let it go all. +Aemil. What did thy Song boad Lady? +Hearke, canst thou heare me? I will play the Swan, +And dye in Musicke: Willough, Willough, Willough. +Moore, she was chaste: She lou'd thee, cruell Moore, +So come my Soule to blisse, as I speake true: +So speaking as I thinke, alas, I dye + + Oth. I haue another weapon in this Chamber, +It was a Sword of Spaine, the Ice brookes temper: +Oh heere it is: Vnkle I must come forth + + Gra. If thou attempt it, it will cost thee deere; +Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer + + Oth. Looke in vpon me then, and speake with me, +Or naked as I am I will assault thee + + Gra. What is the matter? + Othel. Behold, I haue a weapon: +A better neuer did it selfe sustaine +Vpon a Soldiers Thigh. I haue seene the day, +That with this little Arme, and this good Sword, +I haue made my way through more impediments +Then twenty times your stop. But (oh vaine boast) +Who can controll his Fate? 'Tis not so now. +Be not affraid, though you do see me weapon'd: +Heere is my iournies end, heere is my butt +And verie Sea-marke of my vtmost Saile. +Do you go backe dismaid? 'Tis a lost feare: +Man but a Rush against Othello's brest, +And he retires. Where should Othello go? +Now: how dost thou looke now? Oh ill-Starr'd wench, +Pale as thy Smocke: when we shall meete at compt, +This looke of thine will hurle my Soule from Heauen, +And Fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my Girle? +Euen like thy Chastity. O cursed, cursed Slaue! +Whip me ye Diuels, +From the possession of this Heauenly sight: +Blow me about in windes, roast me in Sulphure, +Wash me in steepe-downe gulfes of Liquid fire. +Oh Desdemon! dead Desdemon: dead. Oh, oh! +Enter Lodouico, Cassio, Montano, and Iago, with Officers. + + Lod. Where is this rash, and most vnfortunate man? + Oth. That's he that was Othello: heere I am + + Lod. Where is that Viper? +Bring the Villaine forth + + Oth. I look down towards his feet; but that's a Fable, +If that thou bee'st a Diuell, I cannot kill thee + + Lod. Wrench his Sword from him + + Iago. I bleed Sir, but not kill'd + + Othel. I am not sorry neither, Il'd haue thee liue: +For in my sense, 'tis happinesse to die + + Lod. Oh thou Othello, that was once so good, +Falne in the practise of a cursed Slaue, +What shall be saide to thee + + Oth. Why any thing: +An honourable Murderer, if you will: +For nought I did in hate, but all in Honour + + Lod. This wretch hath part confest his Villany: +Did you and he consent in Cassio's death + + Oth. I + + Cas. Deere Generall, I neuer gaue you cause + + Oth. I do beleeue it, and I aske your pardon: +Will you, I pray, demand that demy-Diuell, +Why he hath thus ensnar'd my Soule and Body + + Iag. Demand me nothing: what you know, you know: +From this time forth, I neuer will speake word + + Lod. What? not to pray? + Gra. Torments will ope your lips + + Oth. Well, thou dost best + + Lod. Sir, +You shall vnderstand what hath befalne, +(Which, as I thinke, you know not) heere is a Letter +Found in the pocket of the slaine Rodorigo, +And heere another, the one of them imports +The death of Cassio, to be vndertooke +By Rodorigo + + Oth. O Villaine! + Cassio. Most Heathenish, and most grosse + + Lod. Now, heere's another discontented paper +Found in his pocket too: and this it seemes +Rodorigo meant t'haue sent this damned villaine: +But that (belike) Iago in the interim +Came in, and satisfi'd him + + Oth. Oh thou pernitious Caitiffe; +How came you (Cassio) by that Handkerchiefe +That was my wiues? + Cassio. I found it in my Chamber: +And he himselfe confest it but euen now, +That there he dropt it for a speciall purpose, +Which wrought to his desire + + Othel. O Foole, foole, foole! + Cassio. There is besides, in Rodorigo's Letter, +How he vpbraides Iago, that he made him +Braue me vpon the Watch: whereon it came +That I was cast: and euen but now he spake +(After long seeming dead) Iago hurt him, +Iago set him on + + Lod. You must forsake this roome, and go with vs: +Your Power, and your Command is taken off, +And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this Slaue, +If there be any cunning Crueltie, +That can torment him much, and hold him long, +It shall be his. You shall close Prisoner rest, +Till that the Nature of your fault be knowne +To the Venetian State. Come, bring away + + Oth. Soft you; a word or two before you goe: +I haue done the State some seruice, and they know't: +No more of that. I pray you in your Letters, +When you shall these vnluckie deeds relate, +Speake of me, as I am. Nothing extenuate, +Nor set downe ought in malice. +Then must you speake, +Of one that lou'd not wisely, but too well: +Of one, not easily Iealious, but being wrought, +Perplexed in the extreame: Of one, whose hand +(Like the base Iudean) threw a Pearle away +Richer then all his Tribe: Of one, whose subdu'd Eyes, +Albeit vn-vsed to the melting moode, +Drops teares as fast as the Arabian Trees +Their Medicinable gumme. Set you downe this: +And say besides, that in Aleppo once, +Where a malignant, and a Turbond-Turke +Beate a Venetian, and traduc'd the State, +I tooke by th' throat the circumcised Dogge, +And smoate him, thus + + Lod. Oh bloody period + + Gra. All that is spoke, is marr'd + + Oth. I kist thee, ere I kill'd thee: No way but this, +Killing my selfe, to dye vpon a kisse. + +Dyes + + Cas. This did I feare, but thought he had no weapon: +For he was great of heart + + Lod. Oh Sparton Dogge: +More fell then Anguish, Hunger, or the Sea: +Looke on the Tragicke Loading of this bed: +This is thy worke: +The Obiect poysons Sight, +Let it be hid. Gratiano, keepe the house, +And seize vpon the Fortunes of the Moore, +For they succeede on you. To you, Lord Gouernor, +Remaines the Censure of this hellish villaine: +The Time, the Place, the Torture, oh inforce it: +My selfe will straight aboord, and to the State, +This heauie Act, with heauie heart relate. + +Exeunt. + + +FINIS. + +The Names of the Actors. + +Othello, the Moore. +Brabantio, Father to Desdemona. +Cassio, an Honourable Lieutenant. +Iago, a Villaine. +Rodorigo, a gull'd Gentleman. +Duke of Venice. +Senators. +Montano, Gouernour of Cyprus. +Gentlemen of Cyprus. +Lodouico, and Gratiano, two Noble Venetians. +Saylors. +Clowne. +Desdemona, Wife to Othello. +Aemilia, Wife to Iago. +Bianca, a Curtezan. + +THE TRAGEDIE OF Othello, the Moore of Venice. diff --git a/examples/wordcount/works/prideandprejudice.txt b/examples/wordcount/works/prideandprejudice.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6026dbb --- /dev/null +++ b/examples/wordcount/works/prideandprejudice.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13713 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen, Edited +by R. W. (Robert William) Chapman + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Pride and Prejudice + + +Author: Jane Austen + +Editor: R. W. (Robert William) Chapman + +Release Date: May 9, 2013 [eBook #42671] + +Language: English + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRIDE AND PREJUDICE*** + + +E-text prepared by Greg Weeks, Jon Hurst, Mary Meehan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images +generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 42671-h.htm or 42671-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42671/42671-h/42671-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42671/42671-h.zip) + + + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive. See + http://archive.org/stream/novelstextbasedo02austuoft#page/n23/mode/2up + + +Transcriber's note: + + Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). + + A carat character is used to denote superscription. Multiple + superscripted characters are enclosed by curly brackets + (example: M^{rs}). + + + + + +PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: + +A Novel. + +In Three Volumes. + +By the Author of "Sense and Sensibility." + +VOL. I. + + + + + + + +London: +Printed for T. Egerton, +Military Library, Whitehall. +1813. + + + + +[Illustration: Morning Dress. + +_Invented by M^{rs} Bell 26 Charlotte Street Bedford Square._ + +_Engraved for No. 72 of La Belle Assemblee 1^{st} July 1815_] + + + + +PRIDE & PREJUDICE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +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 as 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 not you 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 might 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 any thing 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 new +comers. 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 which ever he chuses 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 on 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 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 develope. 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 II. + + +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, mama," said Elizabeth, "that we shall meet him at the +assemblies, and that Mrs. Long has 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 teazing?" + +"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 nieces 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 very 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 so 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 chuse," 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 acquaintance every day; but +for your sakes, we would do any thing. 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 III. + + +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, &c. 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 had 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 gentleman-like; 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 every body 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 overhear 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 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_; and 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 towards him. She told the story +however with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively, +playful disposition, which delighted in any thing 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 to be never 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 all his wife's +views on the stranger would be disappointed; but he soon found that he +had a very 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. Every body 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 enquired 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 ancle in the first dance!" + +"Oh! my dear," continued Mrs. Bennet, "I am quite delighted with him. He +is so excessively handsome! and his sisters are charming women. I never +in my life saw any thing 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 IV. + + +When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in +her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister 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 any body. All the world are good and agreeable +in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a human being in my life." + +"I would wish not to be hasty in censuring any one; 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 it every +where. But to be candid without ostentation or design--to take the good +of every body'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 judgment 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 +being agreeable where 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 an 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 very anxious for his having an estate of his own; but +though he was now established only 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 a +great opposition of character.--Bingley was endeared to Darcy by the +easiness, openness, 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 judgment 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 offence. + +The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was sufficiently +characteristic. Bingley had never met with pleasanter people or prettier +girls in his life; every body 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 should not object to know more of. Miss Bennet was therefore +established as a sweet girl, and their brother felt authorised by such +commendation to think of her as he chose. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +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 +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 every body. 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 was 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 very angry at +being spoke to." + +"Miss Bingley told me," said Jane, "that he never speaks much unless +among his intimate acquaintance. 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; +every body says that he is ate 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, every thing 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 synonimously. 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 every 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 VI. + + +The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. The visit +was returned in due form. Miss Bennet's pleasing manners grew on the +good will 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 +every body, 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 woman had better shew _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 leisure for falling +in love as much as she chuses." + +"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 in company with him 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 been also 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 before-hand, 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 had +hardly 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 no where, 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 not you think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well +just now, when I was teazing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at +Meryton?" + +"With great energy;--but it is a subject which always makes a lady +energetic." + +"You are severe on us." + +"It will be _her_ turn soon to be teazed," 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 any body and every body!--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 every body 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 own 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 societies." + +"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 some thoughts 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 notion of doing a very gallant thing, and called out to +her, + +"My dear Miss Eliza, why are not you 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 these 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 so serious about it, I shall consider the matter as +absolutely settled. You will have a charming mother-in-law, indeed, and +of course she will be always 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 VII. + + +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. Philips, 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 +head quarters. + +Their visits to Mrs. Philips 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. Philips +visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a source 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 any body'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." + +"Mama," 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 tête-à-tête between two women can never + end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can on the 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 not they?" + +"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 home 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 head-ache + there is not much the matter with me. + + "Yours, &c." + +"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 at all 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 horse-woman, 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 ancles, dirty stockings, and a face +glowing with the warmth of exercise. + +She was shewn 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 enquiries 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 beside 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 shewed 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 into 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 VIII. + + +At five o'clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half past six +Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. To the civil enquiries 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 original 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 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 taste, 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 ancles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! what could she mean by +it? It seems to me to shew an abominable sort of conceited independence, +a most country town indifference to decorum." + +"It shews 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 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 repaired 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 asleep, and +when it appeared to her rather right than pleasant that she should go +down stairs 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 soon be increased by seeing her quite well." + +Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards a 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 look 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 by 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 piano-forte 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 skreens and net +purses. I scarcely know any one 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 skreen. 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 dozen, in the whole range of my +acquaintance, that are really accomplished." + +"Nor I, I am sure," said Miss Bingley. + +"Then," observed Elizabeth, "you must comprehend a great deal in your +idea of an accomplished woman." + +"Yes; I do comprehend a great deal in it." + +"Oh! certainly," cried his faithful assistant, "no one can be really +esteemed accomplished, who does not greatly surpass what is usually met +with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, +dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all +this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of +walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word +will be but half deserved." + +"All this she must possess," added Darcy, "and to all this she must yet +add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by +extensive reading." + +"I am no longer surprised at your knowing _only_ six accomplished women. +I rather wonder now at your knowing _any_." + +"Are you so severe upon your own sex, as to doubt the possibility of all +this?" + +"_I_ never saw such a woman. _I_ never saw such capacity, and taste, and +application, and elegance, as you describe, united." + +Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the injustice of her +implied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many women who +answered this description, when Mr. Hurst called them to order, with +bitter complaints of their inattention to what was going forward. As all +conversation was thereby at an end, Elizabeth soon afterwards left the +room. + +"Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on her, "is +one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other +sex, by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I dare say, it +succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art." + +"Undoubtedly," replied Darcy, to whom this remark was chiefly addressed, +"there is meanness in _all_ the arts which ladies sometimes condescend +to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is +despicable." + +Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as to +continue the subject. + +Elizabeth joined them again only to say that her sister was worse, and +that she could not leave her. Bingley urged Mr. Jones's being sent for +immediately; while his sisters, convinced that no country advice could +be of any service, recommended an express to town for one of the most +eminent physicians. This, she would not hear of; but she was not so +unwilling to comply with their brother's proposal; and it was settled +that Mr. Jones should be sent for early in the morning, if Miss Bennet +were not decidedly better. Bingley was quite uncomfortable; his sisters +declared that they were miserable. They solaced their wretchedness, +however, by duets after supper, while he could find no better relief to +his feelings than by giving his housekeeper directions that every +possible attention might be paid to the sick lady and her sister. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Elizabeth passed the chief of the night in her sister's room, and in the +morning had the pleasure of being able to send a tolerable answer to the +enquiries which she very early received from Mr. Bingley by a housemaid, +and some time afterwards from the two elegant ladies who waited on his +sisters. In spite of this amendment, however, she requested to have a +note sent to Longbourn, desiring her mother to visit Jane, and form her +own judgment of her situation. The note was immediately dispatched, and +its contents as quickly complied with. Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by her +two youngest girls, reached Netherfield soon after the family breakfast. + +Had she found Jane in any apparent danger, Mrs. Bennet would have been +very miserable; but being satisfied on seeing her that her illness was +not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately, as her +restoration to health would probably remove her from Netherfield. She +would not listen therefore to her daughter's proposal of being carried +home; neither did the apothecary, who arrived about the same time, think +it at all advisable. After sitting a little while with Jane, on Miss +Bingley's appearance and invitation, the mother and three daughters all +attended her into the breakfast parlour. Bingley met them with hopes +that Mrs. Bennet had not found Miss Bennet worse than she expected. + +"Indeed I have, Sir," was her answer. "She is a great deal too ill to be +moved. Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass +a little longer on your kindness." + +"Removed!" cried Bingley. "It must not be thought of. My sister, I am +sure, will not hear of her removal." + +"You may depend upon it, Madam," said Miss Bingley, with cold civility, +"that Miss Bennet shall receive every possible attention while she +remains with us." + +Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments. + +"I am sure," she added, "if it was not for such good friends I do not +know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers a +vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which is +always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest +temper I ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are nothing to +_her_. You have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and a charming prospect +over that gravel walk. I do not know a place in the country that is +equal to Netherfield. You will not think of quitting it in a hurry I +hope, though you have but a short lease." + +"Whatever I do is done in a hurry," replied he; "and therefore if I +should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five +minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here." + +"That is exactly what I should have supposed of you," said Elizabeth. + +"You begin to comprehend me, do you?" cried he, turning towards her. + +"Oh! yes--I understand you perfectly." + +"I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen +through I am afraid is pitiful." + +"That is as it happens. It does not necessarily follow that a deep, +intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours." + +"Lizzy," cried her mother, "remember where you are, and do not run on in +the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home." + +"I did not know before," continued Bingley immediately, "that you were a +studier of character. It must be an amusing study." + +"Yes; but intricate characters are the _most_ amusing. They have at +least that advantage." + +"The country," said Darcy, "can in general supply but few subjects for +such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined +and unvarying society." + +"But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be +observed in them for ever." + +"Yes, indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner of mentioning a +country neighbourhood. "I assure you there is quite as much of _that_ +going on in the country as in town." + +Every body was surprised; and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment, +turned silently away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had gained a complete +victory over him, continued her triumph. + +"I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country for +my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal +pleasanter, is not it, Mr. Bingley?" + +"When I am in the country," he replied, "I never wish to leave it; and +when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their +advantages, and I can be equally happy in either." + +"Aye--that is because you have the right disposition. But that +gentleman," looking at Darcy, "seemed to think the country was nothing +at all." + +"Indeed, Mama, you are mistaken," said Elizabeth, blushing for her +mother. "You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there were not +such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in town, which +you must acknowledge to be true." + +"Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not meeting with +many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few +neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four and twenty families." + +Nothing but concern for Elizabeth could enable Bingley to keep his +countenance. His sister was less delicate, and directed her eye towards +Mr. Darcy with a very expressive smile. Elizabeth, for the sake of +saying something that might turn her mother's thoughts, now asked her if +Charlotte Lucas had been at Longbourn since _her_ coming away. + +"Yes, she called yesterday with her father. What an agreeable man Sir +William is, Mr. Bingley--is not he? so much the man of fashion! so +genteel and so easy!--He has always something to say to every +body.--_That_ is my idea of good breeding; and those persons who fancy +themselves very important and never open their mouths, quite mistake the +matter." + +"Did Charlotte dine with you?" + +"No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince pies. For +my part, Mr. Bingley, _I_ always keep servants that can do their own +work; _my_ daughters are brought up differently. But every body is to +judge for themselves, and the Lucases are very good sort of girls, I +assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that _I_ think +Charlotte so _very_ plain--but then she is our particular friend." + +"She seems a very pleasant young woman," said Bingley. + +"Oh! dear, yes;--but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself +has often said so, and envied me Jane's beauty. I do not like to boast +of my own child, but to be sure, Jane--one does not often see any body +better looking. It is what every body says. I do not trust my own +partiality. When she was only fifteen, there was a gentleman at my +brother Gardiner's in town, so much in love with her, that my +sister-in-law was sure he would make her an offer before we came away. +But however he did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he +wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were." + +"And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently. "There has +been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first +discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!" + +"I have been used to consider poetry as the _food_ of love," said Darcy. + +"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Every thing nourishes what is +strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I +am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away." + +Darcy only smiled; and the general pause which ensued made Elizabeth +tremble lest her mother should be exposing herself again. She longed to +speak, but could think of nothing to say; and after a short silence Mrs. +Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr. Bingley for his kindness to +Jane, with an apology for troubling him also with Lizzy. Mr. Bingley was +unaffectedly civil in his answer, and forced his younger sister to be +civil also, and say what the occasion required. She performed her part +indeed without much graciousness, but Mrs. Bennet was satisfied, and +soon afterwards ordered her carriage. Upon this signal, the youngest of +her daughters put herself forward. The two girls had been whispering to +each other during the whole visit, and the result of it was, that the +youngest should tax Mr. Bingley with having promised on his first coming +into the country to give a ball at Netherfield. + +Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen, with a fine complexion +and good-humoured countenance; a favourite with her mother, whose +affection had brought her into public at an early age. She had high +animal spirits, and a sort of natural self-consequence, which the +attentions of the officers, to whom her uncle's good dinners and her own +easy manners recommended her, had increased into assurance. She was very +equal therefore to address Mr. Bingley on the subject of the ball, and +abruptly reminded him of his promise; adding, that it would be the most +shameful thing in the world if he did not keep it. His answer to this +sudden attack was delightful to their mother's ear. + +"I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement; and when +your sister is recovered, you shall if you please name the very day of +the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing while she is ill." + +Lydia declared herself satisfied. "Oh! yes--it would be much better to +wait till Jane was well, and by that time most likely Captain Carter +would be at Meryton again. And when you have given _your_ ball," she +added, "I shall insist on their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel +Forster it will be quite a shame if he does not." + +Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Elizabeth returned +instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her relations' behaviour to the +remarks of the two ladies and Mr. Darcy; the latter of whom, however, +could not be prevailed on to join in their censure of _her_, in spite of +all Miss Bingley's witticisms on _fine eyes_. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +The day passed much as the day before had done. Mrs. Hurst and Miss +Bingley had spent some hours of the morning with the invalid, who +continued, though slowly, to mend; and in the evening Elizabeth joined +their party in the drawing-room. The loo table, however, did not appear. +Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching +the progress of his letter, and repeatedly calling off his attention by +messages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and +Mrs. Hurst was observing their game. + +Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused in +attending to what passed between Darcy and his companion. The perpetual +commendations of the lady either on his hand-writing, or on the evenness +of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern +with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and was +exactly in unison with her opinion of each. + +"How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!" + +He made no answer. + +"You write uncommonly fast." + +"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly." + +"How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of the +year! Letters of business too! How odious I should think them!" + +"It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of to yours." + +"Pray tell your sister that I long to see her." + +"I have already told her so once, by your desire." + +"I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend +pens remarkably well." + +"Thank you--but I always mend my own." + +"How can you contrive to write so even?" + +He was silent. + +"Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp, +and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful +little design for a table, and I think it infinitely superior to Miss +Grantley's." + +"Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again?--At +present I have not room to do them justice." + +"Oh! it is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do you +always write such charming long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?" + +"They are generally long; but whether always charming, it is not for me +to determine." + +"It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter, with +ease, cannot write ill." + +"That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline," cried her +brother--"because he does _not_ write with ease. He studies too much for +words of four syllables.--Do not you, Darcy?" + +"My style of writing is very different from yours." + +"Oh!" cried Miss Bingley, "Charles writes in the most careless way +imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest." + +"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them--by which +means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents." + +"Your humility, Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth, "must disarm reproof." + +"Nothing is more deceitful," said Darcy, "than the appearance of +humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an +indirect boast." + +"And which of the two do you call _my_ little recent piece of modesty?" + +"The indirect boast;--for you are really proud of your defects in +writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of +thought and carelessness of execution, which if not estimable, you think +at least highly interesting. The power of doing any thing with +quickness is always much prized by the possessor, and often without any +attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Mrs. +Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved on quitting Netherfield +you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of +panegyric, of compliment to yourself--and yet what is there so very +laudable in a precipitance which must leave very necessary business +undone, and can be of no real advantage to yourself or any one else?" + +"Nay," cried Bingley, "this is too much, to remember at night all the +foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour, I +believed what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this +moment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of needless +precipitance merely to shew off before the ladies." + +"I dare say you believed it; but I am by no means convinced that you +would be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be quite as +dependant on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were +mounting your horse, a friend were to say, 'Bingley, you had better stay +till next week,' you would probably do it, you would probably not +go--and, at another word, might stay a month." + +"You have only proved by this," cried Elizabeth, "that Mr. Bingley did +not do justice to his own disposition. You have shewn him off now much +more than he did himself." + +"I am exceedingly gratified," said Bingley, "by your converting what my +friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I am +afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no means +intend; for he would certainly think the better of me, if under such a +circumstance I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I +could." + +"Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intention +as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?" + +"Upon my word I cannot exactly explain the matter, Darcy must speak for +himself." + +"You expect me to account for opinions which you chuse to call mine, but +which I have never acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, to stand +according to your representation, you must remember, Miss Bennet, that +the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and the +delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering one +argument in favour of its propriety." + +"To yield readily--easily--to the _persuasion_ of a friend is no merit +with you." + +"To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of +either." + +"You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of +friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often make +one readily yield to a request, without waiting for arguments to reason +one into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case as you have +supposed about Mr. Bingley. We may as well wait, perhaps, till the +circumstance occurs, before we discuss the discretion of his behaviour +thereupon. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and friend, +where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no +very great moment, should you think ill of that person for complying +with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?" + +"Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to arrange +with rather more precision the degree of importance which is to +appertain to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsisting +between the parties?" + +"By all means," cried Bingley; "let us hear all the particulars, not +forgetting their comparative height and size; for that will have more +weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. I assure +you that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with +myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not +know a more aweful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in +particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening +when he has nothing to do." + +Mr. Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thought she could perceive that he was +rather offended; and therefore checked her laugh. Miss Bingley warmly +resented the indignity he had received, in an expostulation with her +brother for talking such nonsense. + +"I see your design, Bingley," said his friend.--"You dislike an +argument, and want to silence this." + +"Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and Miss +Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very +thankful; and then you may say whatever you like of me." + +"What you ask," said Elizabeth, "is no sacrifice on my side; and Mr. +Darcy had much better finish his letter." + +Mr. Darcy took her advice, and did finish his letter. + +When that business was over, he applied to Miss Bingley and Elizabeth +for the indulgence of some music. Miss Bingley moved with alacrity to +the piano-forte, and after a polite request that Elizabeth would lead +the way, which the other as politely and more earnestly negatived, she +seated herself. + +Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and while they were thus employed +Elizabeth could not help observing as she turned over some music books +that lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr. Darcy's eyes were fixed +on her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of +admiration to so great a man; and yet that he should look at her because +he disliked her, was still more strange. She could only imagine however +at last, that she drew his notice because there was a something about +her more wrong and reprehensible, according to his ideas of right, than +in any other person present. The supposition did not pain her. She liked +him too little to care for his approbation. + +After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by a +lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing near +Elizabeth, said to her-- + +"Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an +opportunity of dancing a reel?" + +She smiled, but made no answer. He repeated the question, with some +surprise at her silence. + +"Oh!" said she, "I heard you before; but I could not immediately +determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say 'Yes,' +that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always +delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of +their premeditated contempt. I have therefore made up my mind to tell +you, that I do not want to dance a reel at all--and now despise me if +you dare." + +"Indeed I do not dare." + +Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his +gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her +manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody; and Darcy had +never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really +believed, that were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he +should be in some danger. + +Miss Bingley saw, or suspected enough to be jealous; and her great +anxiety for the recovery of her dear friend Jane, received some +assistance from her desire of getting rid of Elizabeth. + +She often tried to provoke Darcy into disliking her guest, by talking of +their supposed marriage, and planning his happiness in such an alliance. + +"I hope," said she, as they were walking together in the shrubbery the +next day, "you will give your mother-in-law a few hints, when this +desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue; +and if you can compass it, do cure the younger girls of running after +the officers.--And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavour to +check that little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence, +which your lady possesses." + +"Have you any thing else to propose for my domestic felicity?" + +"Oh! yes.--Do let the portraits of your uncle and aunt Philips be +placed in the gallery at Pemberley. Put them next to your great uncle +the judge. They are in the same profession, you know; only in different +lines. As for your Elizabeth's picture, you must not attempt to have it +taken, for what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?" + +"It would not be easy, indeed, to catch their expression, but their +colour and shape, and the eye-lashes, so remarkably fine, might be +copied." + +At that moment they were met from another walk, by Mrs. Hurst and +Elizabeth herself. + +"I did not know that you intended to walk," said Miss Bingley, in some +confusion, lest they had been overheard. + +"You used us abominably ill," answered Mrs. Hurst, "in running away +without telling us that you were coming out." + +Then taking the disengaged arm of Mr. Darcy, she left Elizabeth to walk +by herself. The path just admitted three. Mr. Darcy felt their rudeness +and immediately said,-- + +"This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into the +avenue." + +But Elizabeth, who had not the least inclination to remain with them, +laughingly answered, + +"No, no; stay where you are.--You are charmingly group'd, and appear to +uncommon advantage. The picturesque would be spoilt by admitting a +fourth. Good bye." + +She then ran gaily off, rejoicing as she rambled about, in the hope of +being at home again in a day or two. Jane was already so much recovered +as to intend leaving her room for a couple of hours that evening. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +When the ladies removed after dinner, Elizabeth ran up to her sister, +and seeing her well guarded from cold, attended her into the +drawing-room; where she was welcomed by her two friends with many +professions of pleasure; and Elizabeth had never seen them so agreeable +as they were during the hour which passed before the gentlemen appeared. +Their powers of conversation were considerable. They could describe an +entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laugh +at their acquaintance with spirit. + +But when the gentlemen entered, Jane was no longer the first object. +Miss Bingley's eyes were instantly turned towards Darcy, and she had +something to say to him before he had advanced many steps. He addressed +himself directly to Miss Bennet, with a polite congratulation; Mr. Hurst +also made her a slight bow, and said he was "very glad;" but diffuseness +and warmth remained for Bingley's salutation. He was full of joy and +attention. The first half hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest she +should suffer from the change of room; and she removed at his desire to +the other side of the fire-place, that she might be farther from the +door. He then sat down by her, and talked scarcely to any one else. +Elizabeth, at work in the opposite corner, saw it all with great +delight. + +When tea was over, Mr. Hurst reminded his sister-in-law of the +card-table--but in vain. She had obtained private intelligence that Mr. +Darcy did not wish for cards; and Mr. Hurst soon found even his open +petition rejected. She assured him that no one intended to play, and the +silence of the whole party on the subject, seemed to justify her. Mr. +Hurst had therefore nothing to do, but to stretch himself on one of the +sophas and go to sleep. Darcy took up a book; Miss Bingley did the same; +and Mrs. Hurst, principally occupied in playing with her bracelets and +rings, joined now and then in her brother's conversation with Miss +Bennet. + +Miss Bingley's attention was quite as much engaged in watching Mr. +Darcy's progress through _his_ book, as in reading her own; and she was +perpetually either making some inquiry, or looking at his page. She +could not win him, however, to any conversation; he merely answered her +question, and read on. At length, quite exhausted by the attempt to be +amused with her own book, which she had only chosen because it was the +second volume of his, she gave a great yawn and said, "How pleasant it +is to spend an evening in this way! I declare after all there is no +enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a +book!--When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not +an excellent library." + +No one made any reply. She then yawned again, threw aside her book, and +cast her eyes round the room in quest of some amusement; when hearing +her brother mentioning a ball to Miss Bennet, she turned suddenly +towards him and said, + +"By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at +Netherfield?--I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult +the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there are not +some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a +pleasure." + +"If you mean Darcy," cried her brother, "he may go to bed, if he chuses, +before it begins--but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing; and +as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough I shall send round my +cards." + +"I should like balls infinitely better," she replied, "if they were +carried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferably +tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much +more rational if conversation instead of dancing made the order of the +day." + +"Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say, but it would not be +near so much like a ball." + +Miss Bingley made no answer; and soon afterwards got up and walked about +the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well;--but Darcy, at +whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious. In the desperation +of her feelings she resolved on one effort more; and, turning to +Elizabeth, said, + +"Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a +turn about the room.--I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting +so long in one attitude." + +Elizabeth was surprised, but agreed to it immediately. Miss Bingley +succeeded no less in the real object of her civility; Mr. Darcy looked +up. He was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as +Elizabeth herself could be, and unconsciously closed his book. He was +directly invited to join their party, but he declined it, observing, +that he could imagine but two motives for their chusing to walk up and +down the room together, with either of which motives his joining them +would interfere. "What could he mean? she was dying to know what could +be his meaning"--and asked Elizabeth whether she could at all understand +him? + +"Not at all," was her answer; "but depend upon it, he means to be severe +on us, and our surest way of disappointing him, will be to ask nothing +about it." + +Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disappointing Mr. Darcy in any +thing, and persevered therefore in requiring an explanation of his two +motives. + +"I have not the smallest objection to explaining them," said he, as soon +as she allowed him to speak. "You either chuse this method of passing +the evening because you are in each other's confidence and have secret +affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures +appear to the greatest advantage in walking;--if the first, I should be +completely in your way;--and if the second, I can admire you much better +as I sit by the fire." + +"Oh! shocking!" cried Miss Bingley. "I never heard any thing so +abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?" + +"Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination," said Elizabeth. "We +can all plague and punish one another. Teaze him--laugh at +him.--Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done." + +"But upon my honour I do _not_. I do assure you that my intimacy has not +yet taught me _that_. Teaze calmness of temper and presence of mind! No, +no--I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose +ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject. Mr. +Darcy may hug himself." + +"Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!" cried Elizabeth. "That is an +uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would +be a great loss to _me_ to have many such acquaintance. I dearly love a +laugh." + +"Miss Bingley," said he, "has given me credit for more than can be. The +wisest and the best of men, nay, the wisest and best of their actions, +may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a +joke." + +"Certainly," replied Elizabeth--"there are such people, but I hope I am +not one of _them_. I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies +and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies _do_ divert me, I own, and I +laugh at them whenever I can.--But these, I suppose, are precisely what +you are without." + +"Perhaps that is not possible for any one. But it has been the study of +my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong +understanding to ridicule." + +"Such as vanity and pride." + +"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride--where there is a real +superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation." + +Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile. + +"Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume," said Miss +Bingley;--"and pray what is the result?" + +"I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it +himself without disguise." + +"No"--said Darcy, "I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, +but they are not, I 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 +others so soon as I ought, nor their offences 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 +for ever." + +"_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." + +"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 a propensity to hate every body." + +"And yours," he replied with a smile, "is wilfully 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 made not the smallest objection, and the piano-forte 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 XII. + + +In consequence of an agreement between the sisters, Elizabeth wrote the +next morning to her 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. + +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 teazing 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 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 new extracts to admire, and some new observations +of thread-bare 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 Forster was going +to be married. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +"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." + +"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. Why Jane--you never dropt a word of this; you sly thing! +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 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 do something or other about it." + +Jane and Elizabeth attempted to explain to her the nature of an entail. +They had often attempted it before, but it was a subject on which Mrs. +Bennet was beyond the reach of reason; and she continued to rail +bitterly against the cruelty of settling an estate away from a family of +five daughters, in favour of a man whom nobody cared anything about. + +"It certainly is a most iniquitous affair," said Mr. Bennet, "and +nothing can clear Mr. Collins from the guilt of inheriting Longbourn. +But if you will listen to his letter, you may perhaps be a little +softened by his manner of expressing himself." + +"No, that I am sure I shall not; and I think it was very impertinent of +him to write to you at all, and very hypocritical. I hate such false +friends. Why could not he keep on quarrelling with you, as his father +did before him?" + +"Why, indeed, he does seem to have had some filial scruples on that +head, as you will hear." + + _Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent, + + 15th October._ + + DEAR SIR, + + The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured + father, always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the + misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the + breach; but for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing + lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good + terms with any one, with whom it had always pleased him to be at + variance.--"There, Mrs. Bennet."--My mind however is now made up on + the subject, for having received ordination at Easter, I have been + so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right + Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, + whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable + rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavour to + demean myself with grateful respect towards her Ladyship, and be + ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are + instituted by the Church of England. As a clergyman, moreover, I + feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in + all families within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds + I flatter myself that my present overtures of good-will are highly + commendable, and that the circumstance of my being next in the + entail of Longbourn estate, will be kindly overlooked on your side, + and not lead you to reject the offered olive branch. I cannot be + otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your + amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologise for it, as well as to + assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends,--but + of this hereafter. If you should have no objection to receive me + into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on + you and your family, Monday, November 18th, by four o'clock, and + shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday + se'night following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as + Lady Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a + Sunday, provided that some other clergyman is engaged to do the + duty of the day. I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to + your lady and daughters, your well-wisher and friend, + + WILLIAM COLLINS." + +"At four o'clock, therefore, we may expect this peace-making gentleman," +said Mr. Bennet, as he folded up the letter. "He seems to be a most +conscientious and polite young man, upon my word; and I doubt not will +prove a valuable acquaintance, especially if Lady Catherine should be so +indulgent as to let him come to us again." + +"There is some sense in what he says about the girls however; and if he +is disposed to make them any amends, I shall not be the person to +discourage him." + +"Though it is difficult," said Jane, "to guess in what way he can mean +to make us the atonement he thinks our due, the wish is certainly to his +credit." + +Elizabeth was chiefly struck with his extraordinary deference for Lady +Catherine, and his kind intention of christening, marrying, and burying +his parishioners whenever it were required. + +"He must be an oddity, I think," said she. "I cannot make him +out.--There is something very pompous in his style.--And what can he +mean by apologizing for being next in the entail?--We cannot suppose he +would help it, if he could.--Can he be a sensible man, sir?" + +"No, my dear; I think not. I have great hopes of finding him quite the +reverse. There is a mixture of servility and self-importance in his +letter, which promises well. I am impatient to see him." + +"In point of composition," said Mary, "his letter does not seem +defective. The idea of the olive branch perhaps is not wholly new, yet I +think it is well expressed." + +To Catherine and Lydia, neither the letter nor its writer were in any +degree interesting. It was next to impossible that their cousin should +come in a scarlet coat, and it was now some weeks since they had +received pleasure from the society of a man in any other colour. As for +their mother, Mr. Collins's letter had done away much of her ill-will, +and she was preparing to see him with a degree of composure, which +astonished her husband and daughters. + +Mr. Collins was punctual to his time, and was received with great +politeness by the whole family. Mr. Bennet indeed said little; but the +ladies were ready enough to talk, and Mr. Collins seemed neither in need +of encouragement, nor inclined to be silent himself. He was a tall, +heavy looking young man of five and twenty. His air was grave and +stately, and his manners were very formal. He had not been long seated +before he complimented Mrs. Bennet on having so fine a family of +daughters, said he had heard much of their beauty, but that, in this +instance, fame had fallen short of the truth; and added, that he did +not doubt her seeing them all in due time well disposed of in marriage. +This gallantry was not much to the taste of some of his hearers, but +Mrs. Bennet, who quarrelled with no compliments, answered most readily, + +"You are very kind, sir, I am sure; and I wish with all my heart it may +prove so; for else they will be destitute enough. Things are settled so +oddly." + +"You allude perhaps to the entail of this estate." + +"Ah! sir, I do indeed. It is a grievous affair to my poor girls, you +must confess. Not that I mean to find fault with _you_, for such things +I know are all chance in this world. There is no knowing how estates +will go when once they come to be entailed." + +"I am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to my fair cousins,--and +could say much on the subject, but that I am cautious of appearing +forward and precipitate. But I can assure the young ladies that I come +prepared to admire them. At present I will not say more, but perhaps +when we are better acquainted----" + +He was interrupted by a summons to dinner; and the girls smiled on each +other. They were not the only objects of Mr. Collins's admiration. The +hall, the dining-room, and all its furniture were examined and praised; +and his commendation of every thing would have touched Mrs. Bennet's +heart, but for the mortifying supposition of his viewing it all as his +own future property. The dinner too in its turn was highly admired; and +he begged to know to which of his fair cousins, the excellence of its +cookery was owing. But here he was set right by Mrs. Bennet, who assured +him with some asperity that they were very well able to keep a good +cook, and that her daughters had nothing to do in the kitchen. He begged +pardon for having displeased her. In a softened tone she declared +herself not at all offended; but he continued to apologise for about a +quarter of an hour. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +During dinner, Mr. Bennet scarcely spoke at all; but when the servants +were withdrawn, he thought it time to have some conversation with his +guest, and therefore started a subject in which he expected him to +shine, by observing that he seemed very fortunate in his patroness. Lady +Catherine de Bourgh's attention to his wishes, and consideration for his +comfort, appeared very remarkable. Mr. Bennet could not have chosen +better. Mr. Collins was eloquent in her praise. The subject elevated him +to more than usual solemnity of manner, and with a most important aspect +he protested that he had never in his life witnessed such behaviour in a +person of rank--such affability and condescension, as he had himself +experienced from Lady Catherine. She had been graciously pleased to +approve of both the discourses, which he had already had the honour of +preaching before her. She had also asked him twice to dine at Rosings, +and had sent for him only the Saturday before, to make up her pool of +quadrille in the evening. Lady Catherine was reckoned proud by many +people he knew, but _he_ had never seen any thing but affability in her. +She had always spoken to him as she would to any other gentleman; she +made not the smallest objection to his joining in the society of the +neighbourhood, nor to his leaving his parish occasionally for a week or +two, to visit his relations. She had even condescended to advise him to +marry as soon as he could, provided he chose with discretion; and had +once paid him a visit in his humble parsonage; where she had perfectly +approved all the alterations he had been making, and had even vouchsafed +to suggest some herself,--some shelves in the closets up stairs. + +"That is all very proper and civil, I am sure," said Mrs. Bennet, "and I +dare say she is a very agreeable woman. It is a pity that great ladies +in general are not more like her. Does she live near you, sir?" + +"The garden in which stands my humble abode, is separated only by a lane +from Rosings Park, her ladyship's residence." + +"I think you said she was a widow, sir? has she any family?" + +"She has one only daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of very +extensive property." + +"Ah!" cried Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head, "then she is better off than +many girls. And what sort of young lady is she? is she handsome?" + +"She is a most charming young lady indeed. Lady Catherine herself says +that in point of true beauty, Miss De Bourgh is far superior to the +handsomest of her sex; because there is that in her features which marks +the young woman of distinguished birth. She is unfortunately of a sickly +constitution, which has prevented her making that progress in many +accomplishments, which she could not otherwise have failed of; as I am +informed by the lady who superintended her education, and who still +resides with them. But she is perfectly amiable, and often condescends +to drive by my humble abode in her little phaeton and ponies." + +"Has she been presented? I do not remember her name among the ladies at +court." + +"Her indifferent state of health unhappily prevents her being in town; +and by that means, as I told Lady Catherine myself one day, has deprived +the British court of its brightest ornament. Her ladyship seemed pleased +with the idea, and you may imagine that I am happy on every occasion to +offer those little delicate compliments which are always acceptable to +ladies. I have more than once observed to Lady Catherine, that her +charming daughter seemed born to be a duchess, and that the most +elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence, would be adorned by +her.--These are the kind of little things which please her ladyship, and +it is a sort of attention which I conceive myself peculiarly bound to +pay." + +"You judge very properly," said Mr. Bennet, "and it is happy for you +that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I ask +whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the +moment, or are the result of previous study?" + +"They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though I +sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant +compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to +give them as unstudied an air as possible." + +Mr. Bennet's expectations were fully answered. His cousin was as absurd +as he had hoped, and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment, +maintaining at the same time the most resolute composure of countenance, +and except in an occasional glance at Elizabeth, requiring no partner in +his pleasure. + +By tea-time however the dose had been enough, and Mr. Bennet was glad to +take his guest into the drawing-room again, and when tea was over, glad +to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Mr. Collins readily assented, +and a book was produced; but on beholding it, (for every thing announced +it to be from a circulating library,) he started back, and begging +pardon, protested that he never read novels.--Kitty stared at him, and +Lydia exclaimed.--Other books were produced, and after some deliberation +he chose Fordyce's Sermons. Lydia gaped as he opened the volume, and +before he had, with very monotonous solemnity, read three pages, she +interrupted him with, + +"Do you know, mama, that my uncle Philips talks of turning away Richard, +and if he does, Colonel Forster will hire him. My aunt told me so +herself on Saturday. I shall walk to Meryton to-morrow to hear more +about it, and to ask when Mr. Denny comes back from town." + +Lydia was bid by her two eldest sisters to hold her tongue; but Mr. +Collins, much offended, laid aside his book, and said, + +"I have often observed how little young ladies are interested by books +of a serious stamp, though written solely for their benefit. It amazes +me, I confess;--for certainly, there can be nothing so advantageous to +them as instruction. But I will no longer importune my young cousin." + +Then turning to Mr. Bennet, he offered himself as his antagonist at +backgammon. Mr. Bennet accepted the challenge, observing that he acted +very wisely in leaving the girls to their own trifling amusements. Mrs. +Bennet and her daughters apologised most civilly for Lydia's +interruption, and promised that it should not occur again, if he would +resume his book; but Mr. Collins, after assuring them that he bore his +young cousin no ill will, and should never resent her behaviour as any +affront, seated himself at another table with Mr. Bennet, and prepared +for backgammon. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had +been but little assisted by education or society; the greatest part of +his life having been spent under the guidance of an illiterate and +miserly father; and though he belonged to one of the universities, he +had merely kept the necessary terms, without forming at it any useful +acquaintance. The subjection in which his father had brought him up, had +given him originally great humility of manner, but it was now a good +deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, living in +retirement, and the consequential feelings of early and unexpected +prosperity. A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de +Bourgh when the living of Hunsford was vacant; and the respect which he +felt for her high rank, and his veneration for her as his patroness, +mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a +clergyman, and his rights as a rector, made him altogether a mixture of +pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility. + +Having now a good house and very sufficient income, he intended to +marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had +a wife in view, as he meant to chuse one of the daughters, if he found +them as handsome and amiable as they were represented by common report. +This was his plan of amends--of atonement--for inheriting their father's +estate; and he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility and +suitableness, and excessively generous and disinterested on his own +part. + +His plan did not vary on seeing them.--Miss Bennet's lovely face +confirmed his views, and established all his strictest notions of what +was due to seniority; and for the first evening _she_ was his settled +choice. The next morning, however, made an alteration; for in a quarter +of an hour's tête-à-tête with Mrs. Bennet before breakfast, a +conversation beginning with his parsonage-house, and leading naturally +to the avowal of his hopes, that a mistress for it might be found at +Longbourn, produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general +encouragement, a caution against the very Jane he had fixed on.--"As to +her _younger_ daughters she could not take upon her to say--she could +not positively answer--but she did not _know_ of any prepossession;--her +_eldest_ daughter, she must just mention--she felt it incumbent on her +to hint, was likely to be very soon engaged." + +Mr. Collins had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth--and it was soon +done--done while Mrs. Bennet was stirring the fire. Elizabeth, equally +next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded her of course. + +Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted that she might soon have +two daughters married; and the man whom she could not bear to speak of +the day before, was now high in her good graces. + +Lydia's intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten; every sister +except Mary agreed to go with her; and Mr. Collins was to attend them, +at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most anxious to get rid of him, +and have his library to himself; for thither Mr. Collins had followed +him after breakfast, and there he would continue, nominally engaged with +one of the largest folios in the collection, but really talking to Mr. +Bennet, with little cessation, of his house and garden at Hunsford. Such +doings discomposed Mr. Bennet exceedingly. In his library he had been +always sure of leisure and tranquillity; and though prepared, as he told +Elizabeth, to meet with folly and conceit in every other room in the +house, he was used to be free from them there; his civility, therefore, +was most prompt in inviting Mr. Collins to join his daughters in their +walk; and Mr. Collins, being in fact much better fitted for a walker +than a reader, was extremely well pleased to close his large book, and +go. + +In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of his +cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton. The attention of +the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by _him_. Their eyes +were immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers, +and nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin +in a shop window, could recal them. + +But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom +they had never seen before, of most gentleman-like appearance, walking +with an officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very +Mr. Denny, concerning whose return from London Lydia came to inquire, +and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the stranger's air, +all wondered who he could be, and Kitty and Lydia, determined if +possible to find out, led the way across the street, under pretence of +wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately had just gained +the pavement when the two gentlemen turning back had reached the same +spot. Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to +introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the day +before from town, and he was happy to say had accepted a commission in +their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the young man wanted +only regimentals to make him completely charming. His appearance was +greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty, a fine +countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. The introduction +was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation--a +readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming; and the +whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably, +when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were +seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the ladies of the group, +the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual +civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the +principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn on +purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with a bow, and +was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth, when they +were suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger, and Elizabeth +happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, +was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed colour, +one looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, +touched his hat--a salutation which Mr. Darcy just deigned to return. +What could be the meaning of it?--It was impossible to imagine; it was +impossible not to long to know. + +In another minute Mr. Bingley, but without seeming to have noticed what +passed, took leave and rode on with his friend. + +Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young ladies to the door of +Mr. Philips's house, and then made their bows, in spite of Miss Lydia's +pressing entreaties that they would come in, and even in spite of Mrs. +Philips' throwing up the parlour window, and loudly seconding the +invitation. + +Mrs. Philips was always glad to see her nieces, and the two eldest, from +their recent absence, were particularly welcome, and she was eagerly +expressing her surprise at their sudden return home, which, as their own +carriage had not fetched them, she should have known nothing about, if +she had not happened to see Mr. Jones's shop boy in the street, who had +told her that they were not to send any more draughts to Netherfield +because the Miss Bennets were come away, when her civility was claimed +towards Mr. Collins by Jane's introduction of him. She received him with +her very best politeness, which he returned with as much more, +apologising for his intrusion, without any previous acquaintance with +her, which he could not help flattering himself however might be +justified by his relationship to the young ladies who introduced him to +her notice. Mrs. Philips was quite awed by such an excess of good +breeding; but her contemplation of one stranger was soon put an end to +by exclamations and inquiries about the other, of whom, however, she +could only tell her nieces what they already knew, that Mr. Denny had +brought him from London, and that he was to have a lieutenant's +commission in the ----shire. She had been watching him the last hour, +she said, as he walked up and down the street, and had Mr. Wickham +appeared Kitty and Lydia would certainly have continued the occupation, +but unluckily no one passed the windows now except a few of the +officers, who in comparison with the stranger, were become "stupid, +disagreeable fellows." Some of them were to dine with the Philipses the +next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr. +Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from Longbourn +would come in the evening. This was agreed to, and Mrs. Philips +protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery +tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards. The prospect of such +delights was very cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits. Mr. +Collins repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was assured +with unwearying civility that they were perfectly needless. + +As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she had seen pass +between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would have defended either or +both, had they appeared to be wrong, she could no more explain such +behaviour than her sister. + +Mr. Collins on his return highly gratified Mrs. Bennet by admiring Mrs. +Philips's manners and politeness. He protested that except Lady +Catherine and her daughter, he had never seen a more elegant woman; for +she had not only received him with the utmost civility, but had even +pointedly included him in her invitation for the next evening, although +utterly unknown to her before. Something he supposed might be attributed +to his connection with them, but yet he had never met with so much +attention in the whole course of his life. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +As no objection was made to the young people's engagement with their +aunt, and all Mr. Collins's scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for +a single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted, the coach +conveyed him and his five cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton; and the +girls had the pleasure of hearing, as they entered the drawing-room, +that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle's invitation, and was then in +the house. + +When this information was given, and they had all taken their seats, Mr. +Collins was at leisure to look around him and admire, and he was so much +struck with the size and furniture of the apartment, that he declared he +might almost have supposed himself in the small summer breakfast parlour +at Rosings; a comparison that did not at first convey much +gratification; but when Mrs. Philips understood from him what Rosings +was, and who was its proprietor, when she had listened to the +description of only one of Lady Catherine's drawing-rooms, and found +that the chimney-piece alone had cost eight hundred pounds, she felt all +the force of the compliment, and would hardly have resented a comparison +with the housekeeper's room. + +In describing to her all the grandeur of Lady Catherine and her mansion, +with occasional digressions in praise of his own humble abode, and the +improvements it was receiving, he was happily employed until the +gentlemen joined them; and he found in Mrs. Philips a very attentive +listener, whose opinion of his consequence increased with what she +heard, and who was resolving to retail it all among her neighbours as +soon as she could. To the girls, who could not listen to their cousin, +and who had nothing to do but to wish for an instrument, and examine +their own indifferent imitations of china on the mantle-piece, the +interval of waiting appeared very long. It was over at last however. The +gentlemen did approach; and when Mr. Wickham walked into the room, +Elizabeth felt that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thinking +of him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. The +officers of the ----shire were in general a very creditable, +gentleman-like set, and the best of them were of the present party; but +Mr. Wickham was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and +walk, as _they_ were superior to the broad-faced stuffy uncle Philips, +breathing port wine, who followed them into the room. + +Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was +turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated +himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into +conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, and on the +probability of a rainy season, made her feel that the commonest, +dullest, most thread-bare topic might be rendered interesting by the +skill of the speaker. + +With such rivals for the notice of the fair, as Mr. Wickham and the +officers, Mr. Collins seemed likely to sink into insignificance; to the +young ladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals a +kind listener in Mrs. Philips, and was, by her watchfulness, most +abundantly supplied with coffee and muffin. + +When the card tables were placed, he had an opportunity of obliging her +in return, by sitting down to whist. + +"I know little of the game, at present," said he, "but I shall be glad +to improve myself, for in my situation of life----" Mrs. Philips was +very thankful for his compliance, but could not wait for his reason. + +Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and with ready delight was he +received at the other table between Elizabeth and Lydia. At first there +seemed danger of Lydia's engrossing him entirely, for she was a most +determined talker; but being likewise extremely fond of lottery tickets, +she soon grew too much interested in the game, too eager in making bets +and exclaiming after prizes, to have attention for any one in +particular. Allowing for the common demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was +therefore at leisure to talk to Elizabeth, and she was very willing to +hear him, though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to +be told, the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not +even mention that gentleman. Her curiosity however was unexpectedly +relieved. Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. He inquired how far +Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked in +an hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there. + +"About a month," said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the subject +drop, added, "He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I +understand." + +"Yes," replied Wickham;--"his estate there is a noble one. A clear ten +thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of +giving you certain information on that head than myself--for I have been +connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy." + +Elizabeth could not but look surprised. + +"You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after +seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting +yesterday.--Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?" + +"As much as I ever wish to be," cried Elizabeth warmly,--"I have spent +four days in the same house with him, and I think him very +disagreeable." + +"I have no right to give _my_ opinion," said Wickham, "as to his being +agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I have known him +too long and too well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for _me_ to +be impartial. But I believe your opinion of him would in general +astonish--and perhaps you would not express it quite so strongly +anywhere else.--Here you are in your own family." + +"Upon my word I say no more _here_ than I might say in any house in the +neighbourhood, except Netherfield. He is not at all liked in +Hertfordshire. Every body is disgusted with his pride. You will not find +him more favourably spoken of by any one." + +"I cannot pretend to be sorry," said Wickham, after a short +interruption, "that he or that any man should not be estimated beyond +their deserts; but with _him_ I believe it does not often happen. The +world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his +high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chuses to be seen." + +"I should take him, even on _my_ slight acquaintance, to be an +ill-tempered man." Wickham only shook his head. + +"I wonder," said he, at the next opportunity of speaking, "whether he is +likely to be in this country much longer." + +"I do not at all know; but I _heard_ nothing of his going away when I +was at Netherfield. I hope your plans in favour of the ----shire will +not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood." + +"Oh! no--it is not for _me_ to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If _he_ +wishes to avoid seeing _me_, he must go. We are not on friendly terms, +and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for +avoiding _him_ but what I might proclaim to all the world; a sense of +very great ill usage, and most painful regrets at his being what he is. +His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men +that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be +in company with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by a +thousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been +scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him any thing and every +thing, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory +of his father." + +Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and listened with +all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented farther inquiry. + +Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the +neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that he +had yet seen, and speaking of the latter especially, with gentle but +very intelligible gallantry. + +"It was the prospect of constant society, and good society," he added, +"which was my chief inducement to enter the ----shire. I knew it to be a +most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friend Denny tempted me +farther by his account of their present quarters, and the very great +attentions and excellent acquaintance Meryton had procured them. +Society, I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and +my spirits will not bear solitude. I _must_ have employment and society. +A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have +now made it eligible. The church _ought_ to have been my profession--I +was brought up for the church, and I should at this time have been in +possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we +were speaking of just now." + +"Indeed!" + +"Yes--the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best +living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. +I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply, +and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was given +elsewhere." + +"Good heavens!" cried Elizabeth; "but how could _that_ be?--How could +his will be disregarded?--Why did not you seek legal redress?" + +"There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to +give me no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted the +intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it--or to treat it as a merely +conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had forfeited all claim +to it by extravagance, imprudence, in short any thing or nothing. +Certain it is, that the living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I +was of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another man; and no +less certain is it, that I cannot accuse myself of having really done +any thing to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I +may perhaps have sometimes spoken my opinion _of_ him, and _to_ him, too +freely. I can recal nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very +different sort of men, and that he hates me." + +"This is quite shocking!--He deserves to be publicly disgraced." + +"Some time or other he _will_ be--but it shall not be by _me_. Till I +can forget his father, I can never defy or expose _him_." + +Elizabeth honoured him for such feelings, and thought him handsomer than +ever as he expressed them. + +"But what," said she, after a pause, "can have been his motive?--what +can have induced him to behave so cruelly?" + +"A thorough, determined dislike of me--a dislike which I cannot but +attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me +less, his son might have borne with me better; but his father's uncommon +attachment to me, irritated him I believe very early in life. He had not +a temper to bear the sort of competition in which we stood--the sort of +preference which was often given me." + +"I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this--though I have never liked +him, I had not thought so very ill of him--I had supposed him to be +despising his fellow-creatures in general, but did not suspect him of +descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as +this!" + +After a few minutes reflection, however, she continued, "I _do_ remember +his boasting one day, at Netherfield, of the implacability of his +resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. His disposition must +be dreadful." + +"I will not trust myself on the subject," replied Wickham, "_I_ can +hardly be just to him." + +Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, "To +treat in such a manner, the god-son, the friend, the favourite of his +father!"--She could have added, "A young man too, like _you_, whose very +countenance may vouch for your being amiable"--but she contented +herself with "And one, too, who had probably been his own companion from +childhood, connected together, as I think you said, in the closest +manner!" + +"We were born in the same parish, within the same park, the greatest +part of our youth was passed together; inmates of the same house, +sharing the same amusements, objects of the same parental care. _My_ +father began life in the profession which your uncle, Mr. Philips, +appears to do so much credit to--but he gave up every thing to be of use +to the late Mr. Darcy, and devoted all his time to the care of the +Pemberley property. He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most +intimate, confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged himself to +be under the greatest obligations to my father's active superintendance, +and when immediately before my father's death, Mr. Darcy gave him a +voluntary promise of providing for me, I am convinced that he felt it to +be as much a debt of gratitude to _him_, as of affection to myself." + +"How strange!" cried Elizabeth. "How abominable!--I wonder that the very +pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you!--If from no better +motive, that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest,--for +dishonesty I must call it." + +"It _is_ wonderful,"--replied Wickham,--"for almost all his actions may +be traced to pride;--and pride has often been his best friend. It has +connected him nearer with virtue than any other feeling. But we are none +of us consistent; and in his behaviour to me, there were stronger +impulses even than pride." + +"Can such abominable pride as his, have ever done him good?" + +"Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous,--to give his +money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve +the poor. Family pride, and _filial_ pride, for he is very proud of what +his father was, have done this. Not to appear to disgrace his family, to +degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the +Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. He has also _brotherly_ pride, +which with _some_ brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and careful +guardian of his sister; and you will hear him generally cried up as the +most attentive and best of brothers." + +"What sort of a girl is Miss Darcy?" + +He shook his head.--"I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain +to speak ill of a Darcy. But she is too much like her brother,--very, +very proud.--As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and +extremely fond of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her +amusement. But she is nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about +fifteen or sixteen, and I understand highly accomplished. Since her +father's death, her home has been London, where a lady lives with her, +and superintends her education." + +After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could not +help reverting once more to the first, and saying, + +"I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley! How can Mr. Bingley, +who seems good humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable, +be in friendship with such a man? How can they suit each other?--Do you +know Mr. Bingley?" + +"Not at all." + +"He is a sweet tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot know what Mr. +Darcy is." + +"Probably not;--but Mr. Darcy can please where he chuses. He does not +want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he thinks it worth +his while. Among those who are at all his equals in consequence, he is a +very different man from what he is to the less prosperous. His pride +never deserts him; but with the rich, he is liberal-minded, just, +sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps agreeable,--allowing +something for fortune and figure." + +The whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players gathered round +the other table, and Mr. Collins took his station between his cousin +Elizabeth and Mrs. Philips.--The usual inquiries as to his success were +made by the latter. It had not been very great; he had lost every point; +but when Mrs. Philips began to express her concern thereupon, he assured +her with much earnest gravity that it was not of the least importance, +that he considered the money as a mere trifle, and begged she would not +make herself uneasy. + +"I know very well, madam," said he, "that when persons sit down to a +card table, they must take their chance of these things,--and happily I +am not in such circumstances as to make five shillings any object. There +are undoubtedly many who could not say the same, but thanks to Lady +Catherine de Bourgh, I am removed far beyond the necessity of regarding +little matters." + +Mr. Wickham's attention was caught; and after observing Mr. Collins for +a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voice whether her relation +were very intimately acquainted with the family of de Bourgh. + +"Lady Catherine de Bourgh," she replied, "has very lately given him a +living. I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first introduced to her +notice, but he certainly has not known her long." + +"You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy +were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr. Darcy." + +"No, indeed, I did not.--I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine's +connections. I never heard of her existence till the day before +yesterday." + +"Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune, and it is +believed that she and her cousin will unite the two estates." + +This information made Elizabeth smile, as she thought of poor Miss +Bingley. Vain indeed must be all her attentions, vain and useless her +affection for his sister and her praise of himself, if he were already +self-destined to another. + +"Mr. Collins," said she, "speaks highly both of Lady Catherine and her +daughter; but from some particulars that he has related of her ladyship, +I suspect his gratitude misleads him, and that in spite of her being his +patroness, she is an arrogant, conceited woman." + +"I believe her to be both in a great degree," replied Wickham; "I have +not seen her for many years, but I very well remember that I never liked +her, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent. She has the +reputation of being remarkably sensible and clever; but I rather believe +she derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune, part from +her authoritative manner, and the rest from the pride of her nephew, who +chuses that every one connected with him should have an understanding of +the first class." + +Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very rational account of it, and +they continued talking together with mutual satisfaction till supper put +an end to cards; and gave the rest of the ladies their share of Mr. +Wickham's attentions. There could be no conversation in the noise of +Mrs. Philips's supper party, but his manners recommended him to every +body. Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done +gracefully. Elizabeth went away with her head full of him. She could +think of nothing but of Mr. Wickham, and of what he had told her, all +the way home; but there was not time for her even to mention his name as +they went, for neither Lydia nor Mr. Collins were once silent. Lydia +talked incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and the +fish she had won, and Mr. Collins, in describing the civility of Mr. and +Mrs. Philips, protesting that he did not in the least regard his losses +at whist, enumerating all the dishes at supper, and repeatedly fearing +that he crouded his cousins, had more to say than he could well manage +before the carriage stopped at Longbourn House. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Elizabeth related to Jane the next day, what had passed between Mr. +Wickham and herself. Jane listened with astonishment and concern;--she +knew not how to believe that Mr. Darcy could be so unworthy of Mr. +Bingley's regard; and yet, it was not in her nature to question the +veracity of a young man of such amiable appearance as Wickham.--The +possibility of his having really endured such unkindness, was enough to +interest all her tender feelings; and nothing therefore remained to be +done, but to think well of them both, to defend the conduct of each, and +throw into the account of accident or mistake, whatever could not be +otherwise explained. + +"They have both," said she, "been deceived, I dare say, in some way or +other, of which we can form no idea. Interested people have perhaps +misrepresented each to the other. It is, in short, impossible for us to +conjecture the causes or circumstances which may have alienated them, +without actual blame on either side." + +"Very true, indeed;--and now, my dear Jane, what have you got to say in +behalf of the interested people who have probably been concerned in the +business?--Do clear _them_ too, or we shall be obliged to think ill of +somebody." + +"Laugh as much as you chuse, but you will not laugh me out of my +opinion. My dearest Lizzy, do but consider in what a disgraceful light +it places Mr. Darcy, to be treating his father's favourite in such a +manner,--one, whom his father had promised to provide for.--It is +impossible. No man of common humanity, no man who had any value for his +character, could be capable of it. Can his most intimate friends be so +excessively deceived in him? oh! no." + +"I can much more easily believe Mr. Bingley's being imposed on, than +that Mr. Wickham should invent such a history of himself as he gave me +last night; names, facts, every thing mentioned without ceremony.--If it +be not so, let Mr. Darcy contradict it. Besides, there was truth in his +looks." + +"It is difficult indeed--it is distressing.--One does not know what to +think." + +"I beg your pardon;--one knows exactly what to think." + +But Jane could think with certainty on only one point,--that Mr. +Bingley, if he _had been_ imposed on, would have much to suffer when the +affair became public. + +The two young ladies were summoned from the shrubbery where this +conversation passed, by the arrival of some of the very persons of whom +they had been speaking; Mr. Bingley and his sisters came to give their +personal invitation for the long expected ball at Netherfield, which was +fixed for the following Tuesday. The two ladies were delighted to see +their dear friend again, called it an age since they had met, and +repeatedly asked what she had been doing with herself since their +separation. To the rest of the family they paid little attention; +avoiding Mrs. Bennet as much as possible, saying not much to Elizabeth, +and nothing at all to the others. They were soon gone again, rising from +their seats with an activity which took their brother by surprise, and +hurrying off as if eager to escape from Mrs. Bennet's civilities. + +The prospect of the Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable to every +female of the family. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as given in +compliment to her eldest daughter, and was particularly flattered by +receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley himself, instead of a +ceremonious card. Jane pictured to herself a happy evening in the +society of her two friends, and the attentions of their brother; and +Elizabeth thought with pleasure of dancing a great deal with Mr. +Wickham, and of seeing a confirmation of every thing in Mr. Darcy's +looks and behaviour. The happiness anticipated by Catherine and Lydia, +depended less on any single event, or any particular person, for though +they each, like Elizabeth, meant to dance half the evening with Mr. +Wickham, he was by no means the only partner who could satisfy them, and +a ball was at any rate, a ball. And even Mary could assure her family +that she had no disinclination for it. + +"While I can have my mornings to myself," said she, "it is enough.--I +think it no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening engagements. +Society has claims on us all; and I profess myself one of those who +consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable for every +body." + +Elizabeth's spirits were so high on the occasion, that though she did +not often speak unnecessarily to Mr. Collins, she could not help asking +him whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley's invitation, and if he +did, whether he would think it proper to join in the evening's +amusement; and she was rather surprised to find that he entertained no +scruple whatever on that head, and was very far from dreading a rebuke +either from the Archbishop, or Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by venturing to +dance. + +"I am by no means of opinion, I assure you," said he, "that a ball of +this kind, given by a young man of character, to respectable people, can +have any evil tendency; and I am so far from objecting to dancing myself +that I shall hope to be honoured with the hands of all my fair cousins +in the course of the evening, and I take this opportunity of soliciting +yours, Miss Elizabeth, for the two first dances especially,--a +preference which I trust my cousin Jane will attribute to the right +cause, and not to any disrespect for her." + +Elizabeth felt herself completely taken in. She had fully proposed being +engaged by Wickham for those very dances:--and to have Mr. Collins +instead! her liveliness had been never worse timed. There was no help +for it however. Mr. Wickham's happiness and her own was per force +delayed a little longer, and Mr. Collins's proposal accepted with as +good a grace as she could. She was not the better pleased with his +gallantry, from the idea it suggested of something more.--It now first +struck her, that _she_ was selected from among her sisters as worthy of +being the mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a +quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors. +The idea soon reached to conviction, as she observed his increasing +civilities toward herself, and heard his frequent attempt at a +compliment on her wit and vivacity; and though more astonished than +gratified herself, by this effect of her charms, it was not long before +her mother gave her to understand that the probability of their marriage +was exceedingly agreeable to _her_. Elizabeth however did not chuse to +take the hint, being well aware that a serious dispute must be the +consequence of any reply. Mr. Collins might never make the offer, and +till he did, it was useless to quarrel about him. + +If there had not been a Netherfield ball to prepare for and talk of, the +younger Miss Bennets would have been in a pitiable state at this time, +for from the day of the invitation, to the day of the ball, there was +such a succession of rain as prevented their walking to Meryton once. No +aunt, no officers, no news could be sought after;--the very shoe-roses +for Netherfield were got by proxy. Even Elizabeth might have found some +trial of her patience in weather, which totally suspended the +improvement of her acquaintance with Mr. Wickham; and nothing less than +a dance on Tuesday, could have made such a Friday, Saturday, Sunday and +Monday, endurable to Kitty and Lydia. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Till Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield and looked in +vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled, a +doubt of his being present had never occurred to her. The certainty of +meeting him had not been checked by any of those recollections that +might not unreasonably have alarmed her. She had dressed with more than +usual care, and prepared in the highest spirits for the conquest of all +that remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it was not more than +might be won in the course of the evening. But in an instant arose the +dreadful suspicion of his being purposely omitted for Mr. Darcy's +pleasure in the Bingleys' invitation to the officers; and though this +was not exactly the case, the absolute fact of his absence was +pronounced by his friend Mr. Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied, and +who told them that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on business +the day before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant +smile, + +"I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if +he had not wished to avoid a certain gentleman here." + +This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught by +Elizabeth, and as it assured her that Darcy was not less answerable for +Wickham's absence than if her first surmise had been just, every feeling +of displeasure against the former was so sharpened by immediate +disappointment, that she could hardly reply with tolerable civility to +the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to +make.--Attention, forbearance, patience with Darcy, was injury to +Wickham. She was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and +turned away with a degree of ill humour, which she could not wholly +surmount even in speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind partiality +provoked her. + +But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour; and though every prospect +of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long on her +spirits; and having told all her griefs to Charlotte Lucas, whom she had +not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary transition to +the oddities of her cousin, and to point him out to her particular +notice. The two first dances, however, brought a return of distress; +they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn, +apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being +aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable +partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her release from +him was ecstacy. + +She danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment of talking of +Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked. When those dances +were over she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation with +her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy, who took +her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that, without +knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again +immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence of +mind; Charlotte tried to console her. + +"I dare say you will find him very agreeable." + +"Heaven forbid!--_That_ would be the greatest misfortune of all!--To +find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate!--Do not wish me +such an evil." + +When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim her +hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her in a whisper not to be a +simpleton and allow her fancy for Wickham to make her appear unpleasant +in the eyes of a man of ten times his consequence. Elizabeth made no +answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which +she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and +reading in her neighbours' looks their equal amazement in beholding it. +They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to +imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and at +first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would +be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made +some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again silent. +After a pause of some minutes she addressed him a second time with + +"It is _your_ turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy.--_I_ talked about +the dance, and _you_ ought to make some kind of remark on the size of +the room, or the number of couples." + +He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be +said. + +"Very well.--That reply will do for the present.--Perhaps by and bye I +may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public +ones.--But _now_ we may be silent." + +"Do you talk by rule then, while you are dancing?" + +"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be +entirely silent for half an hour together, and yet for the advantage of +_some_, conversation ought to be so arranged as that they may have the +trouble of saying as little as possible." + +"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you +imagine that you are gratifying mine?" + +"Both," replied Elizabeth archly; "for I have always seen a great +similarity in the turn of our minds.--We are each of an unsocial, +taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say +something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to +posterity with all the eclat of a proverb." + +"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," +said he. "How near it may be to _mine_, I cannot pretend to say.--_You_ +think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly." + +"I must not decide on my own performance." + +He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down +the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often +walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist +the temptation, added, "When you met us there the other day, we had just +been forming a new acquaintance." + +The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his +features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth, though blaming herself +for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy spoke, and in a +constrained manner said, + +"Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his +_making_ friends--whether he may be equally capable of _retaining_ them, +is less certain." + +"He has been so unlucky as to lose _your_ friendship," replied Elizabeth +with emphasis, "and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all +his life." + +Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject. At +that moment Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass +through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Mr. +Darcy he stopt with a bow of superior courtesy to compliment him on his +dancing and his partner. + +"I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear Sir. Such very +superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the +first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not +disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, +especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Miss Eliza, (glancing +at her sister and Bingley,) shall take place. What congratulations will +then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy:--but let me not interrupt you, +Sir.--You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching +converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me." + +The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy; but Sir +William's allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and his +eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards Bingley and +Jane, who were dancing together. Recovering himself, however, shortly, +he turned to his partner, and said, + +"Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we were talking of." + +"I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have +interrupted any two people in the room who had less to say for +themselves.--We have tried two or three subjects already without +success, and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine." + +"What think you of books?" said he, smiling. + +"Books--Oh! no.--I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same +feelings." + +"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be +no want of subject.--We may compare our different opinions." + +"No--I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of +something else." + +"The _present_ always occupies you in such scenes--does it?" said he, +with a look of doubt. + +"Yes, always," she replied, without knowing what she said, for her +thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared +by her suddenly exclaiming, "I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, +that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was +unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its _being +created_." + +"I am," said he, with a firm voice. + +"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?" + +"I hope not." + +"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, +to be secure of judging properly at first." + +"May I ask to what these questions tend?" + +"Merely to the illustration of _your_ character," said she, endeavouring +to shake off her gravity. "I am trying to make it out." + +"And what is your success?" + +She shook her head. "I do not get on at all. I hear such different +accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly." + +"I can readily believe," answered he gravely, "that report may vary +greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were +not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to +fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either." + +"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another +opportunity." + +"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours," he coldly replied. +She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in +silence; on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree, for +in Darcy's breast there was a tolerable powerful feeling towards her, +which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against +another. + +They had not long separated when Miss Bingley came towards her, and with +an expression of civil disdain thus accosted her, + +"So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with George +Wickham!--Your sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a +thousand questions; and I find that the young man forgot to tell you, +among his other communications, that he was the son of old Wickham, the +late Mr. Darcy's steward. Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, +not to give implicit confidence to all his assertions; for as to Mr. +Darcy's using him ill, it is perfectly false; for, on the contrary, he +has been always remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has +treated Mr. Darcy in a most infamous manner. I do not know the +particulars, but I know very well that Mr. Darcy is not in the least to +blame, that he cannot bear to hear George Wickham mentioned, and that +though my brother thought he could not well avoid including him in his +invitation to the officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had +taken himself out of the way. His coming into the country at all, is a +most insolent thing indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do it. +I pity you, Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favourite's guilt; +but really considering his descent, one could not expect much better." + +"His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same," said +Elizabeth angrily; "for I have heard you accuse him of nothing worse +than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's steward, and of _that_, I can +assure you, he informed me himself." + +"I beg your pardon," replied Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer. +"Excuse my interference.--It was kindly meant." + +"Insolent girl!" said Elizabeth to herself.--"You are much mistaken if +you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see +nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and the malice of Mr. +Darcy." She then sought her eldest sister, who had undertaken to make +inquiries on the same subject of Bingley. Jane met her with a smile of +such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently +marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the +evening.--Elizabeth instantly read her feelings, and at that moment +solicitude for Wickham, resentment against his enemies, and every thing +else gave way before the hope of Jane's being in the fairest way for +happiness. + +"I want to know," said she, with a countenance no less smiling than her +sister's, "what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham. But perhaps you have +been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person; in which case +you may be sure of my pardon." + +"No," replied Jane, "I have not forgotten him; but I have nothing +satisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of his +history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have +principally offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good conduct, +the probity and honour of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that +Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has +received; and I am sorry to say that by his account as well as his +sister's, Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am +afraid he has been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy's +regard." + +"Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?" + +"No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton." + +"This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. I am +perfectly satisfied. But what does he say of the living?" + +"He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard +them from Mr. Darcy more than once, but he believes that it was left to +him _conditionally_ only." + +"I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity," said Elizabeth warmly; +"but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Mr. +Bingley's defence of his friend was a very able one I dare say, but +since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learnt +the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture still to think of +both gentlemen as I did before." + +She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and on +which there could be no difference of sentiment. Elizabeth listened with +delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane entertained of +Bingley's regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidence +in it. On their being joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew +to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her last +partner she had scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins came up to them and +told her with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as to +make a most important discovery. + +"I have found out," said he, "by a singular accident, that there is now +in the room a near relation of my patroness. I happened to overhear the +gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the honours of +this house the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother +Lady Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would +have thought of my meeting with--perhaps--a nephew of Lady Catherine de +Bourgh in this assembly!--I am most thankful that the discovery is made +in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going to do, +and trust he will excuse my not having done it before. My total +ignorance of the connection must plead my apology." + +"You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy?" + +"Indeed I am. I shall intreat his pardon for not having done it earlier. +I believe him to be Lady Catherine's _nephew_. It will be in my power to +assure him that her ladyship was quite well yesterday se'night." + +Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme; assuring him +that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction as +an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt; that it +was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either +side, and that if it were, it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior in +consequence, to begin the acquaintance.--Mr. Collins listened to her +with the determined air of following his own inclination, and when she +ceased speaking, replied thus, + +"My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world of your +excellent judgment in all matters within the scope of your +understanding, but permit me to say that there must be a wide difference +between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity, and those +which regulate the clergy; for give me leave to observe that I consider +the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank +in the kingdom--provided that a proper humility of behaviour is at the +same time maintained. You must therefore allow me to follow the dictates +of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me to perform what I look +on as a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to profit by your +advice, which on every other subject shall be my constant guide, though +in the case before us I consider myself more fitted by education and +habitual study to decide on what is right than a young lady like +yourself." And with a low bow he left her to attack Mr. Darcy, whose +reception of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose astonishment at +being so addressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced his speech with +a solemn bow, and though she could not hear a word of it, she felt as if +hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the words "apology," +"Hunsford," and "Lady Catherine de Bourgh."--It vexed her to see him +expose himself to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing him with unrestrained +wonder, and when at last Mr. Collins allowed him time to speak, replied +with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins, however, was not +discouraged from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy's contempt seemed +abundantly increasing with the length of his second speech, and at the +end of it he only made him a slight bow, and moved another way. Mr. +Collins then returned to Elizabeth. + +"I have no reason, I assure you," said he, "to be dissatisfied with my +reception. Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with the attention. He answered +me with the utmost civility, and even paid me the compliment of saying, +that he was so well convinced of Lady Catherine's discernment as to be +certain she could never bestow a favour unworthily. It was really a very +handsome thought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with him." + +As Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her own to pursue, she turned +her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley, and the +train of agreeable reflections which her observations gave birth to, +made her perhaps almost as happy as Jane. She saw her in idea settled in +that very house in all the felicity which a marriage of true affection +could bestow; and she felt capable under such circumstances, of +endeavouring even to like Bingley's two sisters. Her mother's thoughts +she plainly saw were bent the same way, and she determined not to +venture near her, lest she might hear too much. When they sat down to +supper, therefore, she considered it a most unlucky perverseness which +placed them within one of each other; and deeply was she vexed to find +that her mother was talking to that one person (Lady Lucas) freely, +openly, and of nothing else but of her expectation that Jane would be +soon married to Mr. Bingley.--It was an animating subject, and Mrs. +Bennet seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of +the match. His being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living +but three miles from them, were the first points of self-gratulation; +and then it was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of +Jane, and to be certain that they must desire the connection as much as +she could do. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger +daughters, as Jane's marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of +other rich men; and lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be +able to consign her single daughters to the care of their sister, that +she might not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. It was +necessary to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure, because on +such occasions it is the etiquette; but no one was less likely than Mrs. +Bennet to find comfort in staying at home at any period of her life. She +concluded with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally +fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no +chance of it. + +In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother's +words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible +whisper; for to her inexpressible vexation, she could perceive that the +chief of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite to them. Her +mother only scolded her for being nonsensical. + +"What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am +sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say +nothing _he_ may not like to hear." + +"For heaven's sake, madam, speak lower.--What advantage can it be to you +to offend Mr. Darcy?--You will never recommend yourself to his friend by +so doing." + +Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Her mother +would talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed +and blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently +glancing her eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what +she dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother, she was +convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression +of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and +steady gravity. + +At length however Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and Lady Lucas, who +had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw no +likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and chicken. +Elizabeth now began to revive. But not long was the interval of +tranquillity; for when supper was over, singing was talked of, and she +had the mortification of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty, +preparing to oblige the company. By many significant looks and silent +entreaties, did she endeavour to prevent such a proof of +complaisance,--but in vain; Mary would not understand them; such an +opportunity of exhibiting was delightful to her, and she began her song. +Elizabeth's eyes were fixed on her with most painful sensations; and she +watched her progress through the several stanzas with an impatience +which was very ill rewarded at their close; for Mary, on receiving +amongst the thanks of the table, the hint of a hope that she might be +prevailed on to favour them again, after the pause of half a minute +began another. Mary's powers were by no means fitted for such a display; +her voice was weak, and her manner affected.--Elizabeth was in agonies. +She looked at Jane, to see how she bore it; but Jane was very composedly +talking to Bingley. She looked at his two sisters, and saw them making +signs of derision at each other, and at Darcy, who continued however +impenetrably grave. She looked at her father to entreat his +interference, lest Mary should be singing all night. He took the hint, +and when Mary had finished her second song, said aloud, + +"That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. +Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit." + +Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat disconcerted; and +Elizabeth sorry for her, and sorry for her father's speech, was afraid +her anxiety had done no good.--Others of the party were now applied to. + +"If I," said Mr. Collins, "were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I +should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with an +air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion, and perfectly +compatible with the profession of a clergyman.--I do not mean however to +assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time to +music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. The +rector of a parish has much to do.--In the first place, he must make +such an agreement for tythes as may be beneficial to himself and not +offensive to his patron. He must write his own sermons; and the time +that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care +and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making +as comfortable as possible. And I do not think it of light importance +that he should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards every +body, especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot +acquit him of that duty; nor could I think well of the man who should +omit an occasion of testifying his respect towards any body connected +with the family." And with a bow to Mr. Darcy, he concluded his speech, +which had been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room.--Many +stared.--Many smiled; but no one looked more amused than Mr. Bennet +himself, while his wife seriously commended Mr. Collins for having +spoken so sensibly, and observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, that +he was a remarkably clever, good kind of young man. + +To Elizabeth it appeared, that had her family made an agreement to +expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would +have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit, or +finer success; and happy did she think it for Bingley and her sister +that some of the exhibition had escaped his notice, and that his +feelings were not of a sort to be much distressed by the folly which he +must have witnessed. That his two sisters and Mr. Darcy, however, should +have such an opportunity of ridiculing her relations was bad enough, and +she could not determine whether the silent contempt of the gentleman, or +the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable. + +The rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teazed by +Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and though he +could not prevail with her to dance with 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 offence of Mr. Darcy's farther 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 carriages a quarter of +an hour after every body 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 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 particularly 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 XIX. + + +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 any thing but a blush of surprise, Mrs. +Bennet instantly answered, + +"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 up stairs." And +gathering her work together, she was hastening away, when Elizabeth +called out, + +"Dear Ma'am, do not go.--I beg you will not go.--Mr. Collins must excuse +me.--He can have nothing to say to me that any body need not hear. I am +going away myself." + +"No, no, nonsense, Lizzy.--I desire you will 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 will 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 farther, 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 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 foot-stool, that she said, 'Mr. Collins, you +must marry. A clergyman like you must marry.--Chuse properly, chuse 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 way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as +you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her.' Allow me, by the +way, to observe, my fair cousin, that I do not reckon the notice and +kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the +advantages in my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond any +thing I can describe; and your wit and vivacity I think must be +acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and respect +which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus much for my general +intention in favour of matrimony; it remains to be told why my views +were directed to Longbourn instead of my own neighbourhood, where I +assure you there are many amiable young women. But the fact is, that +being, as I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honoured +father, (who, however, may live many years longer,) I could not satisfy +myself without resolving to chuse a wife from among his daughters, that +the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholy +event takes place--which, however, as I have already said, may not be +for several years. This has been my motive, my fair cousin, and I +flatter myself it will not sink me in your esteem. And now nothing +remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the +violence of my affection. To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and +shall make no demand of that nature on your father, since I am well +aware that it could not be complied with; and that one thousand pounds +in the 4 per cents. which will not be yours till after your mother's +decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head, +therefore, I shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself that +no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married." + +It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now. + +"You are too hasty, Sir," she cried. "You forget that I have made no +answer. Let me do it without farther loss of time. Accept my thanks for +the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honour of +your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than decline +them." + +"I am not now to learn," replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the +hand, "that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the +man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their +favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a +third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just +said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long." + +"Upon my word, Sir," cried Elizabeth, "your hope is rather an +extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not +one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so +daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second +time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal.--You could not make _me_ +happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who +would make _you_ so.--Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I +am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the +situation." + +"Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so," said Mr. Collins +very gravely--"but I cannot imagine that her ladyship would at all +disapprove of you. And you may be certain that when I have the honour of +seeing her again I shall speak in the highest terms of your modesty, +economy, and other amiable qualifications." + +"Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must +give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of +believing what I say. I wish you very happy and very rich, and by +refusing your hand, do all in my power to prevent your being otherwise. +In making me the offer, you must have satisfied the delicacy of your +feelings with regard to my family, and may take possession of Longbourn +estate whenever it falls, without any self-reproach. This matter may be +considered, therefore, as finally settled." And rising as she thus +spoke, she would have quitted the room, had not Mr. Collins thus +addressed her, + +"When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on this subject I +shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given +me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I +know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the +first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much to +encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the +female character." + +"Really, Mr. Collins," cried Elizabeth with some warmth, "you puzzle me +exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form +of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as +may convince you of its being one." + +"You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your +refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for +believing it are briefly these:--It does not appear to me that my hand +is unworthy your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would +be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections +with the family of De Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are +circumstances highly in my favour; and you should take it into farther +consideration that in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no +means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you. Your +portion is unhappily so small that it will in all likelihood undo the +effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must +therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I +shall chuse to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by +suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females." + +"I do assure you, Sir, that I have no pretension whatever to that kind +of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would +rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you +again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but +to accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect +forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant +female intending to plague you, but as a rational creature speaking the +truth from her heart." + +"You are uniformly charming!" cried he, with an air of awkward +gallantry; "and I am persuaded that when sanctioned by the express +authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of +being acceptable." + +To such perseverance in wilful self-deception Elizabeth would make no +reply, and immediately and in silence withdrew; determined, if he +persisted in considering her repeated refusals as flattering +encouragement, to apply to her father, whose negative might be uttered +in such a manner as must be decisive, and whose behaviour at least could +not be mistaken for the affectation and coquetry of an elegant female. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +Mr. Collins was not left long to the silent contemplation of his +successful love; for Mrs. Bennet, having dawdled about in the vestibule +to watch for the end of the conference, no sooner saw Elizabeth open the +door and with quick step pass her towards the staircase, than she +entered the breakfast-room, and congratulated both him and herself in +warm terms on the happy prospect of their nearer connection. Mr. Collins +received and returned these felicitations with equal pleasure, and then +proceeded to relate the particulars of their interview, with the result +of which he trusted he had every reason to be satisfied, since the +refusal which his cousin had steadfastly given him would naturally flow +from her bashful modesty and the genuine delicacy of her character. + +This information, however, startled Mrs. Bennet;--she would have been +glad to be equally satisfied that her daughter had meant to encourage +him by protesting against his proposals, but she dared not to believe +it, and could not help saying so. + +"But depend upon it, Mr. Collins," she added, "that Lizzy shall be +brought to reason. I will speak to her about it myself directly. She is +a very headstrong foolish girl, and does not know her own interest; but +I will _make_ her know it." + +"Pardon me for interrupting you, Madam," cried Mr. Collins; "but if she +is really headstrong and foolish, I know not whether she would +altogether be a very desirable wife to a man in my situation, who +naturally looks for happiness in the marriage state. If therefore she +actually persists in rejecting my suit, perhaps it were better not to +force her into accepting me, because if liable to such defects of +temper, she could not contribute much to my felicity." + +"Sir, you quite misunderstand me," said Mrs. Bennet, alarmed. "Lizzy is +only headstrong in such matters as these. In every thing else she is as +good natured a girl as ever lived. I will go directly to Mr. Bennet, and +we shall very soon settle it with her, I am sure." + +She would not give him time to reply, but hurrying instantly to her +husband, called out as she entered the library, + +"Oh! Mr. Bennet, you are wanted immediately; we are all in an uproar. +You must come and make Lizzy marry Mr. Collins, for she vows she will +not have him, and if you do not make haste he will change his mind and +not have _her_." + +Mr. Bennet raised his eyes from his book as she entered, and fixed them +on her face with a calm unconcern which was not in the least altered by +her communication. + +"I have not the pleasure of understanding you," said he, when she had +finished her speech. "Of what are you talking?" + +"Of Mr. Collins and Lizzy. Lizzy declares she will not have Mr. Collins, +and Mr. Collins begins to say that he will not have Lizzy." + +"And what am I to do on the occasion?--It seems an hopeless business." + +"Speak to Lizzy about it yourself. Tell her that you insist upon her +marrying him." + +"Let her be called down. She shall hear my opinion." + +Mrs. Bennet rang the bell, and Miss Elizabeth was summoned to the +library. + +"Come here, child," cried her father as she appeared. "I have sent for +you on an affair of importance. I understand that Mr. Collins has made +you an offer of marriage. Is it true?" Elizabeth replied that it was. +"Very well--and this offer of marriage you have refused?" + +"I have, Sir." + +"Very well. We now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your +accepting it. Is not it so, Mrs. Bennet?" + +"Yes, or I will never see her again." + +"An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must +be a stranger to one of your parents.--Your mother will never see you +again if you do _not_ marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again +if you _do_." + +Elizabeth could not but smile at such a conclusion of such a beginning; +but Mrs. Bennet, who had persuaded herself that her husband regarded the +affair as she wished, was excessively disappointed. + +"What do you mean, Mr. Bennet, by talking in this way? You promised me +to _insist_ upon her marrying him." + +"My dear," replied her husband, "I have two small favours to request. +First, that you will allow me the free use of my understanding on the +present occasion; and secondly, of my room. I shall be glad to have the +library to myself as soon as may be." + +Not yet, however, in spite of her disappointment in her husband, did +Mrs. Bennet give up the point. She talked to Elizabeth again and again; +coaxed and threatened her by turns. She endeavoured to secure Jane in +her interest, but Jane with all possible mildness declined +interfering;--and Elizabeth sometimes with real earnestness and +sometimes with playful gaiety replied to her attacks. Though her manner +varied however, her determination never did. + +Mr. Collins, meanwhile, was meditating in solitude on what had passed. +He thought too well of himself to comprehend on what motive his cousin +could refuse him; and though his pride was hurt, he suffered in no other +way. His regard for her was quite imaginary; and the possibility of her +deserving her mother's reproach prevented his feeling any regret. + +While the family were in this confusion, Charlotte Lucas came to spend +the day with them. She was met in the vestibule by Lydia, who, flying to +her, cried in a half whisper, "I am glad you are come, for there is such +fun here!--What do you think has happened this morning?--Mr. Collins has +made an offer to Lizzy, and she will not have him." + +Charlotte had hardly time to answer, before they were joined by Kitty, +who came to tell the same news, and no sooner had they entered the +breakfast-room, where Mrs. Bennet was alone, than she likewise began on +the subject, calling on Miss Lucas for her compassion, and entreating +her to persuade her friend Lizzy to comply with the wishes of all her +family. "Pray do, my dear Miss Lucas," she added in a melancholy tone, +"for nobody is on my side, nobody takes part with me, I am cruelly used, +nobody feels for my poor nerves." + +Charlotte's reply was spared by the entrance of Jane and Elizabeth. + +"Aye, there she comes," continued Mrs. Bennet, "looking as unconcerned +as may be, and caring no more for us than if we were at York, provided +she can have her own way.--But I tell you what, Miss Lizzy, if you take +it into your head to go on refusing every offer of marriage in this way, +you will never get a husband at all--and I am sure I do not know who is +to maintain you when your father is dead.--_I_ shall not be able to keep +you--and so I warn you.--I have done with you from this very day.--I +told you in the library, you know, that I should never speak to you +again, and you will find me as good as my word. I have no pleasure in +talking to undutiful children.--Not that I have much pleasure indeed in +talking to any body. People who suffer as I do from nervous complaints +can have no great inclination for talking. Nobody can tell what I +suffer!--But it is always so. Those who do not complain are never +pitied." + +Her daughters listened in silence to this effusion, sensible that any +attempt to reason with or sooth her would only increase the irritation. +She talked on, therefore, without interruption from any of them till +they were joined by Mr. Collins, who entered with an air more stately +than usual, and on perceiving whom, she said to the girls, + +"Now, I do insist upon it, that you, all of you, hold your tongues, and +let Mr. Collins and me have a little conversation together." + +Elizabeth passed quietly out of the room, Jane and Kitty followed, but +Lydia stood her ground, determined to hear all she could; and Charlotte, +detained first by the civility of Mr. Collins, whose inquiries after +herself and all her family were very minute, and then by a little +curiosity, satisfied herself with walking to the window and pretending +not to hear. In a doleful voice Mrs. Bennet thus began the projected +conversation.--"Oh! Mr. Collins!"-- + +"My dear Madam," replied he, "let us be for ever silent on this point. +Far be it from me," he presently continued in a voice that marked his +displeasure, "to resent the behaviour of your daughter. Resignation to +inevitable evils is the duty of us all; the peculiar duty of a young man +who has been so fortunate as I have been in early preferment; and I +trust I am resigned. Perhaps not the less so from feeling a doubt of my +positive happiness had my fair cousin honoured me with her hand; for I +have often observed that resignation is never so perfect as when the +blessing denied begins to lose somewhat of its value in our estimation. +You will not, I hope, consider me as shewing any disrespect to your +family, my dear Madam, by thus withdrawing my pretensions to your +daughter's favour, without having paid yourself and Mr. Bennet the +compliment of requesting you to interpose your authority in my behalf. +My conduct may I fear be objectionable in having accepted my dismission +from your daughter's lips instead of your own. But we are all liable to +error. I have certainly meant well through the whole affair. My object +has been to secure an amiable companion for myself, with due +consideration for the advantage of all your family, and if my _manner_ +has been at all reprehensible, I here beg leave to apologise." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +The discussion of Mr. Collins's offer was now nearly at an end, and +Elizabeth had only to suffer from the uncomfortable feelings necessarily +attending it, and occasionally from some peevish allusion of her mother. +As for the gentleman himself, _his_ feelings were chiefly expressed, not +by embarrassment or dejection, or by trying to avoid her, but by +stiffness of manner and resentful silence. He scarcely ever spoke to +her, and the assiduous attentions which he had been so sensible of +himself, were transferred for the rest of the day to Miss Lucas, whose +civility in listening to him, was a seasonable relief to them all, and +especially to her friend. + +The morrow produced no abatement of Mrs. Bennet's ill humour or ill +health. Mr. Collins was also in the same state of angry pride. Elizabeth +had hoped that his resentment might shorten his visit, but his plan did +not appear in the least affected by it. He was always to have gone on +Saturday, and to Saturday he still meant to stay. + +After breakfast, the girls walked to Meryton to inquire if Mr. Wickham +were returned, and to lament over his absence from the Netherfield ball. +He joined them on their entering the town and attended them to their +aunt's, where his regret and vexation, and the concern of every body was +well talked over.--To Elizabeth, however, he voluntarily acknowledged +that the necessity of his absence _had_ been self imposed. + +"I found," said he, "as the time drew near, that I had better not meet +Mr. Darcy;--that to be in the same room, the same party with him for so +many hours together, might be more than I could bear, and that scenes +might arise unpleasant to more than myself." + +She highly approved his forbearance, and they had leisure for a full +discussion of it, and for all the commendation which they civilly +bestowed on each other, as Wickham and another officer walked back with +them to Longbourn, and during the walk, he particularly attended to her. +His accompanying them was a double advantage; she felt all the +compliment it offered to herself, and it was most acceptable as an +occasion of introducing him to her father and mother. + +Soon after their return, a letter was delivered to Miss Bennet; it came +from Netherfield, and was opened immediately. The envelope contained a +sheet of elegant, little, hot pressed paper, well covered with a lady's +fair, flowing hand; and Elizabeth saw her sister's countenance change as +she read it, and saw her dwelling intently on some particular passages. +Jane recollected herself soon, and putting the letter away, tried to +join with her usual cheerfulness in the general conversation; but +Elizabeth felt an anxiety on the subject which drew off her attention +even from Wickham; and no sooner had he and his companion taken leave, +than a glance from Jane invited her to follow her up stairs. When they +had gained their own room, Jane taking out the letter, said, + +"This is from Caroline Bingley; what it contains, has surprised me a +good deal. The whole party have left Netherfield by this time, and are +on their way to town; and without any intention of coming back again. +You shall hear what she says." + +She then read the first sentence aloud, which comprised the information +of their having just resolved to follow their brother to town directly, +and of their meaning to dine that day in Grosvenor street, where Mr. +Hurst had a house. The next was in these words. "I do not pretend to +regret any thing I shall leave in Hertfordshire, except your society, my +dearest friend; but we will hope at some future period, to enjoy many +returns of the delightful intercourse we have known, and in the mean +while may lessen the pain of separation by a very frequent and most +unreserved correspondence. I depend on you for that." To these high +flown expressions, Elizabeth listened with all the insensibility of +distrust; and though the suddenness of their removal surprised her, she +saw nothing in it really to lament; it was not to be supposed that their +absence from Netherfield would prevent Mr. Bingley's being there; and as +to the loss of their society, she was persuaded that Jane must soon +cease to regard it, in the enjoyment of his. + +"It is unlucky," said she, after a short pause, "that you should not be +able to see your friends before they leave the country. But may we not +hope that the period of future happiness to which Miss Bingley looks +forward, may arrive earlier than she is aware, and that the delightful +intercourse you have known as friends, will be renewed with yet greater +satisfaction as sisters?--Mr. Bingley will not be detained in London by +them." + +"Caroline decidedly says that none of the party will return into +Hertfordshire this winter. I will read it to you-- + +"When my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that the business which +took him to London, might be concluded in three or four days, but as we +are certain it cannot be so, and at the same time convinced that when +Charles gets to town, he will be in no hurry to leave it again, we have +determined on following him thither, that he may not be obliged to spend +his vacant hours in a comfortless hotel. Many of my acquaintance are +already there for the winter; I wish I could hear that you, my dearest +friend, had any intention of making one in the croud, but of that I +despair. I sincerely hope your Christmas in Hertfordshire may abound in +the gaieties which that season generally brings, and that your beaux +will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of the three, of +whom we shall deprive you." + +"It is evident by this," added Jane, "that he comes back no more this +winter." + +"It is only evident that Miss Bingley does not mean he _should_." + +"Why will you think so? It must be his own doing.--He is his own master. +But you do not know _all_. I _will_ read you the passage which +particularly hurts me. I will have no reserves from _you_." "Mr. Darcy +is impatient to see his sister, and to confess the truth, _we_ are +scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really do not think Georgiana +Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the +affection she inspires in Louisa and myself, is heightened into +something still more interesting, from the hope we dare to entertain of +her being hereafter our sister. I do not know whether I ever before +mentioned to you my feelings on this subject, but I will not leave the +country without confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them +unreasonable. My brother admires her greatly already, he will have +frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing, her +relations all wish the connection as much as his own, and a sister's +partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most +capable of engaging any woman's heart. With all these circumstances to +favour an attachment and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest +Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness +of so many?" + +"What think you of _this_ sentence, my dear Lizzy?"--said Jane as she +finished it. "Is it not clear enough?--Does it not expressly declare +that Caroline neither expects nor wishes me to be her sister; that she +is perfectly convinced of her brother's indifference, and that if she +suspects the nature of my feelings for him, she means (most kindly!) to +put me on my guard? Can there be any other opinion on the subject?" + +"Yes, there can; for mine is totally different.--Will you hear it?" + +"Most willingly." + +"You shall have it in few words. Miss Bingley sees that her brother is +in love with you, and wants him to marry Miss Darcy. She follows him to +town in the hope of keeping him there, and tries to persuade you that he +does not care about you." + +Jane shook her head. + +"Indeed, Jane, you ought to believe me.--No one who has ever seen you +together, can doubt his affection. Miss Bingley I am sure cannot. She is +not such a simpleton. Could she have seen half as much love in Mr. Darcy +for herself, she would have ordered her wedding clothes. But the case is +this. We are not rich enough, or grand enough for them; and she is the +more anxious to get Miss Darcy for her brother, from the notion that +when there has been _one_ intermarriage, she may have less trouble in +achieving a second; in which there is certainly some ingenuity, and I +dare say it would succeed, if Miss de Bourgh were out of the way. But, +my dearest Jane, you cannot seriously imagine that because Miss Bingley +tells you her brother greatly admires Miss Darcy, he is in the smallest +degree less sensible of _your_ merit than when he took leave of you on +Tuesday, or that it will be in her power to persuade him that instead of +being in love with you, he is very much in love with her friend." + +"If we thought alike of Miss Bingley," replied Jane, "your +representation of all this, might make me quite easy. But I know the +foundation is unjust. Caroline is incapable of wilfully deceiving any +one; and all that I can hope in this case is, that she is deceived +herself." + +"That is right.--You could not have started a more happy idea, since you +will not take comfort in mine. Believe her to be deceived by all means. +You have now done your duty by her, and must fret no longer." + +"But, my dear sister, can I be happy, even supposing the best, in +accepting a man whose sisters and friends are all wishing him to marry +elsewhere?" + +"You must decide for yourself," said Elizabeth, "and if upon mature +deliberation, you find that the misery of disobliging his two sisters is +more than equivalent to the happiness of being his wife, I advise you by +all means to refuse him." + +"How can you talk so?"--said Jane faintly smiling,--"You must know that +though I should be exceedingly grieved at their disapprobation, I could +not hesitate." + +"I did not think you would;--and that being the case, I cannot consider +your situation with much compassion." + +"But if he returns no more this winter, my choice will never be +required. A thousand things may arise in six months!" + +The idea of his returning no more Elizabeth treated with the utmost +contempt. It appeared to her merely the suggestion of Caroline's +interested wishes, and she could not for a moment suppose that those +wishes, however openly or artfully spoken, could influence a young man +so totally independent of every one. + +She represented to her sister as forcibly as possible what she felt on +the subject, and had soon the pleasure of seeing its happy effect. +Jane's temper was not desponding, and she was gradually led to hope, +though the diffidence of affection sometimes overcame the hope, that +Bingley would return to Netherfield and answer every wish of her heart. + +They agreed that Mrs. Bennet should only hear of the departure of the +family, without being alarmed on the score of the gentleman's conduct; +but even this partial communication gave her a great deal of concern, +and she bewailed it as exceedingly unlucky that the ladies should happen +to go away, just as they were all getting so intimate together. After +lamenting it however at some length, she had the consolation of thinking +that Mr. Bingley would be soon down again and soon dining at Longbourn, +and the conclusion of all was the comfortable declaration that, though +he had been invited only to a family dinner, she would take care to have +two full courses. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +The Bennets were engaged to dine with the Lucases, and again during the +chief of the day, was Miss Lucas so kind as to listen to Mr. Collins. +Elizabeth took an opportunity of thanking her. "It keeps him in good +humour," said she, "and I am more obliged to you than I can express." +Charlotte assured her friend of her satisfaction in being useful, and +that it amply repaid her for the little sacrifice of her time. This was +very amiable, but Charlotte's kindness extended farther than Elizabeth +had any conception of;--its object was nothing less, than to secure her +from any return of Mr. Collins's addresses, by engaging them towards +herself. Such was Miss Lucas's scheme; and appearances were so +favourable that when they parted at night, she would have felt almost +sure of success if he had not been to leave Hertfordshire so very soon. +But here, she did injustice to the fire and independence of his +character, for it led him to escape out of Longbourn House the next +morning with admirable slyness, and hasten to Lucas Lodge to throw +himself at her feet. He was anxious to avoid the notice of his cousins, +from a conviction that if they saw him depart, they could not fail to +conjecture his design, and he was not willing to have the attempt known +till its success could be known likewise; for though feeling almost +secure, and with reason, for Charlotte had been tolerably encouraging, +he was comparatively diffident since the adventure of Wednesday. His +reception however was of the most flattering kind. Miss Lucas perceived +him from an upper window as he walked towards the house, and instantly +set out to meet him accidentally in the lane. But little had she dared +to hope that so much love and eloquence awaited her there. + +In as short a time as Mr. Collins's long speeches would allow, every +thing was settled between them to the satisfaction of both; and as they +entered the house, he earnestly entreated her to name the day that was +to make him the happiest of men; and though such a solicitation must be +waved for the present, the lady felt no inclination to trifle with his +happiness. The stupidity with which he was favoured by nature, must +guard his courtship from any charm that could make a woman wish for its +continuance; and Miss Lucas, who accepted him solely from the pure and +disinterested desire of an establishment, cared not how soon that +establishment were gained. + +Sir William and Lady Lucas were speedily applied to for their consent; +and it was bestowed with a most joyful alacrity. Mr. Collins's present +circumstances made it a most eligible match for their daughter, to whom +they could give little fortune; and his prospects of future wealth were +exceedingly fair. Lady Lucas began directly to calculate with more +interest than the matter had ever excited before, how many years longer +Mr. Bennet was likely to live; and Sir William gave it as his decided +opinion, that whenever Mr. Collins should be in possession of the +Longbourn estate, it would be highly expedient that both he and his wife +should make their appearance at St. James's. The whole family in short +were properly overjoyed on the occasion. The younger girls formed hopes +of _coming out_ a year or two sooner than they might otherwise have +done; and the boys were relieved from their apprehension of Charlotte's +dying an old maid. Charlotte herself was tolerably composed. She had +gained her point, and had time to consider of it. Her reflections were +in general satisfactory. Mr. Collins to be sure was neither sensible nor +agreeable; his society was irksome, and his attachment to her must be +imaginary. But still he would be her husband.--Without thinking highly +either of men or of matrimony, marriage had always been her object; it +was the only honourable provision for well-educated young women of small +fortune, and however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their +pleasantest preservative from want. This preservative she had now +obtained; and at the age of twenty-seven, without having ever been +handsome, she felt all the good luck of it. The least agreeable +circumstance in the business, was the surprise it must occasion to +Elizabeth Bennet, whose friendship she valued beyond that of any other +person. Elizabeth would wonder, and probably would blame her; and though +her resolution was not to be shaken, her feelings must be hurt by such +disapprobation. She resolved to give her the information herself, and +therefore charged Mr. Collins when he returned to Longbourn to dinner, +to drop no hint of what had passed before any of the family. A promise +of secrecy was of course very dutifully given, but it could not be kept +without difficulty; for the curiosity excited by his long absence, burst +forth in such very direct questions on his return, as required some +ingenuity to evade, and he was at the same time exercising great +self-denial, for he was longing to publish his prosperous love. + +As he was to begin his journey too early on the morrow to see any of the +family, the ceremony of leave-taking was performed when the ladies moved +for the night; and Mrs. Bennet with great politeness and cordiality said +how happy they should be to see him at Longbourn again, whenever his +other engagements might allow him to visit them. + +"My dear Madam," he replied, "this invitation is particularly +gratifying, because it is what I have been hoping to receive; and you +may be very certain that I shall avail myself of it as soon as +possible." + +They were all astonished; and Mr. Bennet, who could by no means wish for +so speedy a return, immediately said, + +"But is there not danger of Lady Catherine's disapprobation here, my +good sir?--You had better neglect your relations, than run the risk of +offending your patroness." + +"My dear sir," replied Mr. Collins, "I am particularly obliged to you +for this friendly caution, and you may depend upon my not taking so +material a step without her ladyship's concurrence." + +"You cannot be too much on your guard. Risk any thing rather than her +displeasure; and if you find it likely to be raised by your coming to us +again, which I should think exceedingly probable, stay quietly at home, +and be satisfied that _we_ shall take no offence." + +"Believe me, my dear sir, my gratitude is warmly excited by such +affectionate attention; and depend upon it, you will speedily receive +from me a letter of thanks for this, as well as for every other mark of +your regard during my stay in Hertfordshire. As for my fair cousins, +though my absence may not be long enough to render it necessary, I shall +now take the liberty of wishing them health and happiness, not excepting +my cousin Elizabeth." + +With proper civilities the ladies then withdrew; all of them equally +surprised to find that he meditated a quick return. Mrs. Bennet wished +to understand by it that he thought of paying his addresses to one of +her younger girls, and Mary might have been prevailed on to accept him. +She rated his abilities much higher than any of the others; there was a +solidity in his reflections which often struck her, and though by no +means so clever as herself, she thought that if encouraged to read and +improve himself by such an example as her's, he might become a very +agreeable companion. But on the following morning, every hope of this +kind was done away. Miss Lucas called soon after breakfast, and in a +private conference with Elizabeth related the event of the day before. + +The possibility of Mr. Collins's fancying himself in love with her +friend had once occurred to Elizabeth within the last day or two; but +that Charlotte could encourage him, seemed almost as far from +possibility as that she could encourage him herself, and her +astonishment was consequently so great as to overcome at first the +bounds of decorum, and she could not help crying out, + +"Engaged to Mr. Collins! my dear Charlotte,--impossible!" + +The steady countenance which Miss Lucas had commanded in telling her +story, gave way to a momentary confusion here on receiving so direct a +reproach; though, as it was no more than she expected, she soon +regained her composure, and calmly replied, + +"Why should you be surprised, my dear Eliza?--Do you think it incredible +that Mr. Collins should be able to procure any woman's good opinion, +because he was not so happy as to succeed with you?" + +But Elizabeth had now recollected herself, and making a strong effort +for it, was able to assure her with tolerable firmness that the prospect +of their relationship was highly grateful to her, and that she wished +her all imaginable happiness. + +"I see what you are feeling," replied Charlotte,--"you must be +surprised, very much surprised,--so lately as Mr. Collins was wishing to +marry you. But when you have had time to think it all over, I hope you +will be satisfied with what I have done. I am not romantic you know. I +never was. I ask only a comfortable home; and considering Mr. Collins's +character, connections, and situation in life, I am convinced that my +chance of happiness with him is as fair, as most people can boast on +entering the marriage state." + +Elizabeth quietly answered "Undoubtedly;"--and after an awkward pause, +they returned to the rest of the family. Charlotte did not stay much +longer, and Elizabeth was then left to reflect on what she had heard. It +was a long time before she became at all reconciled to the idea of so +unsuitable a match. The strangeness of Mr. Collins's making two offers +of marriage within three days, was nothing in comparison of his being +now accepted. She had always felt that Charlotte's opinion of matrimony +was not exactly like her own, but she could not have supposed it +possible that when called into action, she would have sacrificed every +better feeling to worldly advantage. Charlotte the wife of Mr. Collins, +was a most humiliating picture!--And to the pang of a friend disgracing +herself and sunk in her esteem, was added the distressing conviction +that it was impossible for that friend to be tolerably happy in the lot +she had chosen. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +Elizabeth was sitting with her mother and sisters, reflecting on what +she had heard, and doubting whether she were authorised to mention it, +when Sir William Lucas himself appeared, sent by his daughter to +announce her engagement to the family. With many compliments to them, +and much self-gratulation on the prospect of a connection between the +houses, he unfolded the matter,--to an audience not merely wondering, +but incredulous; for Mrs. Bennet, with more perseverance than +politeness, protested he must be entirely mistaken, and Lydia, always +unguarded and often uncivil, boisterously exclaimed, + +"Good Lord! Sir William, how can you tell such a story?--Do not you know +that Mr. Collins wants to marry Lizzy?" + +Nothing less than the complaisance of a courtier could have borne +without anger such treatment; but Sir William's good breeding carried +him through it all; and though he begged leave to be positive as to the +truth of his information, he listened to all their impertinence with the +most forbearing courtesy. + +Elizabeth, feeling it incumbent on her to relieve him from so unpleasant +a situation, now put herself forward to confirm his account, by +mentioning her prior knowledge of it from Charlotte herself; and +endeavoured to put a stop to the exclamations of her mother and sisters, +by the earnestness of her congratulations to Sir William, in which she +was readily joined by Jane, and by making a variety of remarks on the +happiness that might be expected from the match, the excellent character +of Mr. Collins, and the convenient distance of Hunsford from London. + +Mrs. Bennet was in fact too much overpowered to say a great deal while +Sir William remained; but no sooner had he left them than her feelings +found a rapid vent. In the first place, she persisted in disbelieving +the whole of the matter; secondly, she was very sure that Mr. Collins +had been taken in; thirdly, she trusted that they would never be happy +together; and fourthly, that the match might be broken off. Two +inferences, however, were plainly deduced from the whole; one, that +Elizabeth was the real cause of all the mischief; and the other, that +she herself had been barbarously used by them all; and on these two +points she principally dwelt during the rest of the day. Nothing could +console and nothing appease her.--Nor did that day wear out her +resentment. A week elapsed before she could see Elizabeth without +scolding her, a month passed away before she could speak to Sir William +or Lady Lucas without being rude, and many months were gone before she +could at all forgive their daughter. + +Mr. Bennet's emotions were much more tranquil on the occasion, and such +as he did experience he pronounced to be of a most agreeable sort; for +it gratified him, he said, to discover that Charlotte Lucas, whom he had +been used to think tolerably sensible, was as foolish as his wife, and +more foolish than his daughter! + +Jane confessed herself a little surprised at the match; but she said +less of her astonishment than of her earnest desire for their happiness; +nor could Elizabeth persuade her to consider it as improbable. Kitty and +Lydia were far from envying Miss Lucas, for Mr. Collins was only a +clergyman; and it affected them in no other way than as a piece of news +to spread at Meryton. + +Lady Lucas could not be insensible of triumph on being able to retort on +Mrs. Bennet the comfort of having a daughter well married; and she +called at Longbourn rather oftener than usual to say how happy she was, +though Mrs. Bennet's sour looks and ill-natured remarks might have been +enough to drive happiness away. + +Between Elizabeth and Charlotte there was a restraint which kept them +mutually silent on the subject; and Elizabeth felt persuaded that no +real confidence could ever subsist between them again. Her +disappointment in Charlotte made her turn with fonder regard to her +sister, of whose rectitude and delicacy she was sure her opinion could +never be shaken, and for whose happiness she grew daily more anxious, as +Bingley had now been gone a week, and nothing was heard of his return. + +Jane had sent Caroline an early answer to her letter, and was counting +the days till she might reasonably hope to hear again. The promised +letter of thanks from Mr. Collins arrived on Tuesday, addressed to their +father, and written with all the solemnity of gratitude which a +twelvemonth's abode in the family might have prompted. After discharging +his conscience on that head, he proceeded to inform them, with many +rapturous expressions, of his happiness in having obtained the affection +of their amiable neighbour, Miss Lucas, and then explained that it was +merely with the view of enjoying her society that he had been so ready +to close with their kind wish of seeing him again at Longbourn, whither +he hoped to be able to return on Monday fortnight; for Lady Catherine, +he added, so heartily approved his marriage, that she wished it to take +place as soon as possible, which he trusted would be an unanswerable +argument with his amiable Charlotte to name an early day for making him +the happiest of men. + +Mr. Collins's return into Hertfordshire was no longer a matter of +pleasure to Mrs. Bennet. On the contrary she was as much disposed to +complain of it as her husband.--It was very strange that he should come +to Longbourn instead of to Lucas Lodge; it was also very inconvenient +and exceedingly troublesome.--She hated having visitors in the house +while her health was so indifferent, and lovers were of all people the +most disagreeable. Such were the gentle murmurs of Mrs. Bennet, and they +gave way only to the greater distress of Mr. Bingley's continued +absence. + +Neither Jane nor Elizabeth were comfortable on this subject. Day after +day passed away without bringing any other tidings of him than the +report which shortly prevailed in Meryton of his coming no more to +Netherfield the whole winter; a report which highly incensed Mrs. +Bennet, and which she never failed to contradict as a most scandalous +falsehood. + +Even Elizabeth began to fear--not that Bingley was indifferent--but that +his sisters would be successful in keeping him away. Unwilling as she +was to admit an idea so destructive of Jane's happiness, and so +dishonourable to the stability of her lover, she could not prevent its +frequently recurring. The united efforts of his two unfeeling sisters +and of his overpowering friend, assisted by the attractions of Miss +Darcy and the amusements of London, might be too much, she feared, for +the strength of his attachment. + +As for Jane, _her_ anxiety under this suspence was, of course, more +painful than Elizabeth's; but whatever she felt she was desirous of +concealing, and between herself and Elizabeth, therefore, the subject +was never alluded to. But as no such delicacy restrained her mother, an +hour seldom passed in which she did not talk of Bingley, express her +impatience for his arrival, or even require Jane to confess that if he +did not come back, she should think herself very ill used. It needed all +Jane's steady mildness to bear these attacks with tolerable +tranquillity. + +Mr. Collins returned most punctually on the Monday fortnight, but his +reception at Longbourn was not quite so gracious as it had been on his +first introduction. He was too happy, however, to need much attention; +and luckily for the others, the business of love-making relieved them +from a great deal of his company. The chief of every day was spent by +him at Lucas Lodge, and he sometimes returned to Longbourn only in time +to make an apology for his absence before the family went to bed. + +Mrs. Bennet was really in a most pitiable state. The very mention of any +thing concerning the match threw her into an agony of ill humour, and +wherever she went she was sure of hearing it talked of. The sight of +Miss Lucas was odious to her. As her successor in that house, she +regarded her with jealous abhorrence. Whenever Charlotte came to see +them she concluded her to be anticipating the hour of possession; and +whenever she spoke in a low voice to Mr. Collins, was convinced that +they were talking of the Longbourn estate, and resolving to turn herself +and her daughters out of the house, as soon as Mr. Bennet were dead. She +complained bitterly of all this to her husband. + +"Indeed, Mr. Bennet," said she, "it is very hard to think that Charlotte +Lucas should ever be mistress of this house, that I should be forced to +make way for _her_, and live to see her take my place in it!" + +"My dear, do not give way to such gloomy thoughts. Let us hope for +better things. Let us flatter ourselves that _I_ may be the survivor." + +This was not very consoling to Mrs. Bennet, and, therefore, instead of +making any answer, she went on as before, + +"I cannot bear to think that they should have all this estate. If it was +not for the entail I should not mind it." + +"What should not you mind?" + +"I should not mind any thing at all." + +"Let us be thankful that you are preserved from a state of such +insensibility." + +"I never can be thankful, Mr. Bennet, for any thing about the entail. +How any one could have the conscience to entail away an estate from +one's own daughters I cannot understand; and all for the sake of Mr. +Collins too!--Why should _he_ have it more than anybody else?" + +"I leave it to yourself to determine," said Mr. Bennet. + + +END OF VOL. I. + + + + +[Illustration: A VICARAGE HOUSE.] + + + + +PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: + +A Novel. + +In Three Volumes. + +By the Author of "Sense and Sensibility." + +VOL. II. + + + + + + + +London: +Printed for T. Egerton, +Military Library, Whitehall. +1813. + + + + +PRIDE & PREJUDICE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Miss Bingley's letter arrived, and put an end to doubt. The very first +sentence conveyed the assurance of their being all settled in London for +the winter, and concluded with her brother's regret at not having had +time to pay his respects to his friends in Hertfordshire before he left +the country. + +Hope was over, entirely over; and when Jane could attend to the rest of +the letter, she found little, except the professed affection of the +writer, that could give her any comfort. Miss Darcy's praise occupied +the chief of it. Her many attractions were again dwelt on, and Caroline +boasted joyfully of their increasing intimacy, and ventured to predict +the accomplishment of the wishes which had been unfolded in her former +letter. She wrote also with great pleasure of her brother's being an +inmate of Mr. Darcy's house, and mentioned with raptures, some plans of +the latter with regard to new furniture. + +Elizabeth, to whom Jane very soon communicated the chief of all this, +heard it in silent indignation. Her heart was divided between concern +for her sister, and resentment against all the others. To Caroline's +assertion of her brother's being partial to Miss Darcy she paid no +credit. That he was really fond of Jane, she doubted no more than she +had ever done; and much as she had always been disposed to like him, she +could not think without anger, hardly without contempt, on that easiness +of temper, that want of proper resolution which now made him the slave +of his designing friends, and led him to sacrifice his own happiness to +the caprice of their inclinations. Had his own happiness, however, been +the only sacrifice, he might have been allowed to sport with it in what +ever manner he thought best; but her sister's was involved in it, as she +thought he must be sensible himself. It was a subject, in short, on +which reflection would be long indulged, and must be unavailing. She +could think of nothing else, and yet whether Bingley's regard had really +died away, or were suppressed by his friends' interference; whether he +had been aware of Jane's attachment, or whether it had escaped his +observation; whichever were the case, though her opinion of him must be +materially affected by the difference, her sister's situation remained +the same, her peace equally wounded. + +A day or two passed before Jane had courage to speak of her feelings to +Elizabeth; but at last on Mrs. Bennet's leaving them together, after a +longer irritation than usual about Netherfield and its master, she could +not help saying, + +"Oh! that my dear mother had more command over herself; she can have no +idea of the pain she gives me by her continual reflections on him. But I +will not repine. It cannot last long. He will be forgot, and we shall +all be as we were before." + +Elizabeth looked at her sister with incredulous solicitude, but said +nothing. + +"You doubt me," cried Jane, slightly colouring; "indeed you have no +reason. He may live in my memory as the most amiable man of my +acquaintance, but that is all. I have nothing either to hope or fear, +and nothing to reproach him with. Thank God! I have not _that_ pain. A +little time therefore.--I shall certainly try to get the better." + +With a stronger voice she soon added, "I have this comfort immediately, +that it has not been more than an error of fancy on my side, and that it +has done no harm to any one but myself." + +"My dear Jane!" exclaimed Elizabeth, "you are too good. Your sweetness +and disinterestedness are really angelic; I do not know what to say to +you. I feel as if I had never done you justice, or loved you as you +deserve." + +Miss Bennet eagerly disclaimed all extraordinary merit, and threw back +the praise on her sister's warm affection. + +"Nay," said Elizabeth, "this is not fair. _You_ wish to think all the +world respectable, and are hurt if I speak ill of any body. _I_ only +want to think _you_ perfect, and you set yourself against it. Do not be +afraid of my running into any excess, of my encroaching on your +privilege of universal good will. You need not. There are few people +whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see +of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms +my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the +little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of either merit +or sense. I have met with two instances lately; one I will not mention; +the other is Charlotte's marriage. It is unaccountable! in every view it +is unaccountable!" + +"My dear Lizzy, do not give way to such feelings as these. They will +ruin your happiness. You do not make allowance enough for difference of +situation and temper. Consider Mr. Collins's respectability, and +Charlotte's prudent, steady character. Remember that she is one of a +large family; that as to fortune, it is a most eligible match; and be +ready to believe, for every body's sake, that she may feel something +like regard and esteem for our cousin." + +"To oblige you, I would try to believe almost any thing, but no one else +could be benefited by such a belief as this; for were I persuaded that +Charlotte had any regard for him, I should only think worse of her +understanding, than I now do of her heart. My dear Jane, Mr. Collins is +a conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man; you know he is, as well +as I do; and you must feel, as well as I do, that the woman who marries +him, cannot have a proper way of thinking. You shall not defend her, +though it is Charlotte Lucas. You shall not, for the sake of one +individual, change the meaning of principle and integrity, nor +endeavour to persuade yourself or me, that selfishness is prudence, and +insensibility of danger, security for happiness." + +"I must think your language too strong in speaking of both," replied +Jane, "and I hope you will be convinced of it, by seeing them happy +together. But enough of this. You alluded to something else. You +mentioned _two_ instances. I cannot misunderstand you, but I intreat +you, dear Lizzy, not to pain me by thinking _that person_ to blame, and +saying your opinion of him is sunk. We must not be so ready to fancy +ourselves intentionally injured. We must not expect a lively young man +to be always so guarded and circumspect. It is very often nothing but +our own vanity that deceives us. Women fancy admiration means more than +it does." + +"And men take care that they should." + +"If it is designedly done, they cannot be justified; but I have no idea +of there being so much design in the world as some persons imagine." + +"I am far from attributing any part of Mr. Bingley's conduct to design," +said Elizabeth; "but without scheming to do wrong, or to make others +unhappy, there may be error, and there may be misery. Thoughtlessness, +want of attention to other people's feelings, and want of resolution, +will do the business." + +"And do you impute it to either of those?" + +"Yes; to the last. But if I go on, I shall displease you by saying what +I think of persons you esteem. Stop me whilst you can." + +"You persist, then, in supposing his sisters influence him." + +"Yes, in conjunction with his friend." + +"I cannot believe it. Why should they try to influence him? They can +only wish his happiness, and if he is attached to me, no other woman can +secure it." + +"Your first position is false. They may wish many things besides his +happiness; they may wish his increase of wealth and consequence; they +may wish him to marry a girl who has all the importance of money, great +connections, and pride." + +"Beyond a doubt, they _do_ wish him to chuse Miss Darcy," replied Jane; +"but this may be from better feelings than you are supposing. They have +known her much longer than they have known me; no wonder if they love +her better. But, whatever may be their own wishes, it is very unlikely +they should have opposed their brother's. What sister would think +herself at liberty to do it, unless there were something very +objectionable? If they believed him attached to me, they would not try +to part us; if he were so, they could not succeed. By supposing such an +affection, you make every body acting unnaturally and wrong, and me most +unhappy. Do not distress me by the idea. I am not ashamed of having been +mistaken--or, at least, it is slight, it is nothing in comparison of +what I should feel in thinking ill of him or his sisters. Let me take it +in the best light, in the light in which it may be understood." + +Elizabeth could not oppose such a wish; and from this time Mr. Bingley's +name was scarcely ever mentioned between them. + +Mrs. Bennet still continued to wonder and repine at his returning no +more, and though a day seldom passed in which Elizabeth did not account +for it clearly, there seemed little chance of her ever considering it +with less perplexity. Her daughter endeavoured to convince her of what +she did not believe herself, that his attentions to Jane had been merely +the effect of a common and transient liking, which ceased when he saw +her no more; but though the probability of the statement was admitted at +the time, she had the same story to repeat every day. Mrs. Bennet's best +comfort was, that Mr. Bingley must be down again in the summer. + +Mr. Bennet treated the matter differently. "So, Lizzy," said he one day, +"your sister is crossed in love I find. I congratulate her. Next to +being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then. +It is something to think of, and gives her a sort of distinction among +her companions. When is your turn to come? You will hardly bear to be +long outdone by Jane. Now is your time. Here are officers enough at +Meryton to disappoint all the young ladies in the country. Let Wickham +be _your_ man. He is a pleasant fellow, and would jilt you creditably." + +"Thank you, Sir, but a less agreeable man would satisfy me. We must not +all expect Jane's good fortune." + +"True," said Mr. Bennet, "but it is a comfort to think that, whatever of +that kind may befal you, you have an affectionate mother who will always +make the most of it." + +Mr. Wickham's society was of material service in dispelling the gloom, +which the late perverse occurrences had thrown on many of the Longbourn +family. They saw him often, and to his other recommendations was now +added that of general unreserve. The whole of what Elizabeth had already +heard, his claims on Mr. Darcy, and all that he had suffered from him, +was now openly acknowledged and publicly canvassed; and every body was +pleased to think how much they had always disliked Mr. Darcy before they +had known any thing of the matter. + +Miss Bennet was the only creature who could suppose there might be any +extenuating circumstances in the case, unknown to the society of +Hertfordshire; her mild and steady candour always pleaded for +allowances, and urged the possibility of mistakes--but by everybody else +Mr. Darcy was condemned as the worst of men. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +After a week spent in professions of love and schemes of felicity, Mr. +Collins was called from his amiable Charlotte by the arrival of +Saturday. The pain of separation, however, might be alleviated on his +side, by preparations for the reception of his bride, as he had reason +to hope, that shortly after his next return into Hertfordshire, the day +would be fixed that was to make him the happiest of men. He took leave +of his relations at Longbourn with as much solemnity as before; wished +his fair cousins health and happiness again, and promised their father +another letter of thanks. + +On the following Monday, Mrs. Bennet had the pleasure of receiving her +brother and his wife, who came as usual to spend the Christmas at +Longbourn. Mr. Gardiner was a sensible, gentleman-like man, greatly +superior to his sister, as well by nature as education. The Netherfield +ladies would have had difficulty in believing that a man who lived by +trade, and within view of his own warehouses, could have been so well +bred and agreeable. Mrs. Gardiner, who was several years younger than +Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips, was an amiable, intelligent, elegant +woman, and a great favourite with all her Longbourn nieces. Between the +two eldest and herself especially, there subsisted a very particular +regard. They had frequently been staying with her in town. + +The first part of Mrs. Gardiner's business on her arrival, was to +distribute her presents and describe the newest fashions. When this was +done, she had a less active part to play. It became her turn to listen. +Mrs. Bennet had many grievances to relate, and much to complain of. They +had all been very ill-used since she last saw her sister. Two of her +girls had been on the point of marriage, and after all there was nothing +in it. + +"I do not blame Jane," she continued, "for Jane would have got Mr. +Bingley, if she could. But, Lizzy! Oh, sister! it is very hard to think +that she might have been Mr. Collins's wife by this time, had not it +been for her own perverseness. He made her an offer in this very room, +and she refused him. The consequence of it is, that Lady Lucas will have +a daughter married before I have, and that Longbourn estate is just as +much entailed as ever. The Lucases are very artful people indeed, +sister. They are all for what they can get. I am sorry to say it of +them, but so it is. It makes me very nervous and poorly, to be thwarted +so in my own family, and to have neighbours who think of themselves +before anybody else. However, your coming just at this time is the +greatest of comforts, and I am very glad to hear what you tell us, of +long sleeves." + +Mrs. Gardiner, to whom the chief of this news had been given before, in +the course of Jane and Elizabeth's correspondence with her, made her +sister a slight answer, and in compassion to her nieces turned the +conversation. + +When alone with Elizabeth afterwards, she spoke more on the subject. "It +seems likely to have been a desirable match for Jane," said she. "I am +sorry it went off. But these things happen so often! A young man, such +as you describe 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 these sort of inconstancies are very frequent." + +"An excellent consolation in its way," said Elizabeth, "but it will not +do for _us_. We do not suffer by _accident_. It does not often happen +that the interference of friends will persuade a young man of +independent fortune to think no more of a girl, whom he was violently in +love with only a few days before." + +"But that expression of 'violently in love' is so hackneyed, so +doubtful, so indefinite, that it gives me very little idea. It is as +often applied to feelings which arise from an half-hour's acquaintance, +as to a real, strong attachment. Pray, how _violent was_ Mr. Bingley's +love?" + +"I never saw a more promising inclination. He was growing quite +inattentive to other people, and wholly engrossed by her. Every time +they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball he +offended two or three young ladies, by not asking them to dance, and I +spoke to him twice myself, without receiving an answer. Could there be +finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?" + +"Oh, yes!--of that kind of love which I suppose him to have felt. Poor +Jane! I am sorry for her, because, with her disposition, she may not get +over it immediately. It had better have happened to _you_, Lizzy; you +would have laughed yourself out of it sooner. But do you think she +would be prevailed on to go back with us? Change of scene might be of +service--and perhaps a little relief from home, may be as useful as +anything." + +Elizabeth was exceedingly pleased with this proposal, and felt persuaded +of her sister's ready acquiescence. + +"I hope," added Mrs. Gardiner, "that no consideration with regard to +this young man will influence her. We live in so different a part of +town, all our connections are so different, and, as you well know, we go +out so little, that it is very improbable they should meet at all, +unless he really comes to see her." + +"And _that_ is quite impossible; for he is now in the custody of his +friend, and Mr. Darcy would no more suffer him to call on Jane in such a +part of London! My dear aunt, how could you think of it? Mr. Darcy may +perhaps have _heard_ of such a place as Gracechurch Street, but he would +hardly think a month's ablution enough to cleanse him from its +impurities, were he once to enter it; and depend upon it, Mr. Bingley +never stirs without him." + +"So much the better. I hope they will not meet at all. But does not Jane +correspond with the sister? _She_ will not be able to help calling." + +"She will drop the acquaintance entirely." + +But in spite of the certainty in which Elizabeth affected to place this +point, as well as the still more interesting one of Bingley's being +withheld from seeing Jane, she felt a solicitude on the subject which +convinced her, on examination, that she did not consider it entirely +hopeless. It was possible, and sometimes she thought it probable, that +his affection might be re-animated, and the influence of his friends +successfully combated by the more natural influence of Jane's +attractions. + +Miss Bennet accepted her aunt's invitation with pleasure; and the +Bingleys were no otherwise in her thoughts at the time, than as she +hoped that, by Caroline's not living in the same house with her brother, +she might occasionally spend a morning with her, without any danger of +seeing him. + +The Gardiners staid a week at Longbourn; and what with the Philipses, +the Lucases, and the officers, there was not a day without its +engagement. Mrs. Bennet had so carefully provided for the entertainment +of her brother and sister, that they did not once sit down to a family +dinner. When the engagement was for home, some of the officers always +made part of it, of which officers Mr. Wickham was sure to be one; and +on these occasions, Mrs. Gardiner, rendered suspicious by Elizabeth's +warm commendation of him, narrowly observed them both. Without supposing +them, from what she saw, to be very seriously in love, their preference +of each other was plain enough to make her a little uneasy; and she +resolved to speak to Elizabeth on the subject before she left +Hertfordshire, and represent to her the imprudence of encouraging such +an attachment. + +To Mrs. Gardiner, Wickham had one means of affording pleasure, +unconnected with his general powers. About ten or a dozen years ago, +before her marriage, she had spent a considerable time in that very part +of Derbyshire, to which he belonged. They had, therefore, many +acquaintance in common; and, though Wickham had been little there since +the death of Darcy's father, five years before, it was yet in his power +to give her fresher intelligence of her former friends, than she had +been in the way of procuring. + +Mrs. Gardiner had seen Pemberley, and known the late Mr. Darcy by +character perfectly well. Here consequently was an inexhaustible subject +of discourse. In comparing her recollection of Pemberley, with the +minute description which Wickham could give, and in bestowing her +tribute of praise on the character of its late possessor, she was +delighting both him and herself. On being made acquainted with the +present Mr. Darcy's treatment of him, she tried to remember something of +that gentleman's reputed disposition when quite a lad, which might agree +with it, and was confident at last, that she recollected having heard +Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy formerly spoken of as a very proud, ill-natured +boy. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Mrs. Gardiner's caution to Elizabeth was punctually and kindly given on +the first favourable opportunity of speaking to her alone; after +honestly telling her what she thought, she thus went on: + +"You are too sensible a girl, Lizzy, to fall in love merely because you +are warned against it; and, therefore, I am not afraid of speaking +openly. Seriously, I would have you be on your guard. Do not involve +yourself, or endeavour to involve him in an affection which the want of +fortune would make so very imprudent. I have nothing to say against +_him_; he is a most interesting young man; and if he had the fortune he +ought to have, I should think you could not do better. But as it is--you +must not let your fancy run away with you. You have sense, and we all +expect you to use it. Your father would depend on _your_ resolution and +good conduct, I am sure. You must not disappoint your father." + +"My dear aunt, this is being serious indeed." + +"Yes, and I hope to engage you to be serious likewise." + +"Well, then, you need not be under any alarm. I will take care of +myself, and of Mr. Wickham too. He shall not be in love with me, if I +can prevent it." + +"Elizabeth, you are not serious now." + +"I beg your pardon. I will try again. At present I am not in love with +Mr. Wickham; no, I certainly am not. But he is, beyond all comparison, +the most agreeable man I ever saw--and if he becomes really attached to +me--I believe it will be better that he should not. I see the imprudence +of it.--Oh! _that_ abominable Mr. Darcy!--My father's opinion of me does +me the greatest honour; and I should be miserable to forfeit it. My +father, however, is partial to Mr. Wickham. In short, my dear aunt, I +should be very sorry to be the means of making any of you unhappy; but +since we see every day that where there is affection, young people are +seldom withheld by immediate want of fortune, from entering into +engagements with each other, how can I promise to be wiser than so many +of my fellow creatures if I am tempted, or how am I even to know that it +would be wisdom to resist? All that I can promise you, therefore, is not +to be in a hurry. I will not be in a hurry to believe myself his first +object. When I am in company with him, I will not be wishing. In short, +I will do my best." + +"Perhaps it will be as well, if you discourage his coming here so very +often. At least, you should not _remind_ your Mother of inviting him." + +"As I did the other day," said Elizabeth, with a conscious smile; "very +true, it will be wise in me to refrain from _that_. But do not imagine +that he is always here so often. It is on your account that he has been +so frequently invited this week. You know my mother's ideas as to the +necessity of constant company for her friends. But really, and upon my +honour, I will try to do what I think to be wisest; and now, I hope you +are satisfied." + +Her aunt assured her that she was; and Elizabeth having thanked her for +the kindness of her hints, they parted; a wonderful instance of advice +being given on such a point, without being resented. + +Mr. Collins returned into Hertfordshire soon after it had been quitted +by the Gardiners and Jane; but as he took up his abode with the Lucases, +his arrival was no great inconvenience to Mrs. Bennet. His marriage was +now fast approaching, and she was at length so far resigned as to think +it inevitable, and even repeatedly to say in an ill-natured tone that +she "_wished_ they might be happy." Thursday was to be the wedding day, +and on Wednesday Miss Lucas paid her farewell visit; and when she rose +to take leave, Elizabeth, ashamed of her mother's ungracious and +reluctant good wishes, and sincerely affected herself, accompanied her +out of the room. As they went down stairs together, Charlotte said, + +"I shall depend on hearing from you very often, Eliza." + +"_That_ you certainly shall." + +"And I have another favour to ask. Will you come and see me?" + +"We shall often meet, I hope, in Hertfordshire." + +"I am not likely to leave Kent for some time. Promise me, therefore, to +come to Hunsford." + +Elizabeth could not refuse, though she foresaw little pleasure in the +visit. + +"My father and Maria are to come to me in March," added Charlotte, "and +I hope you will consent to be of the party. Indeed, Eliza, you will be +as welcome to me as either of them." + +The wedding took place; the bride and bridegroom set off for Kent from +the church door, and every body had as much to say or to hear on the +subject as usual. Elizabeth soon heard from her friend; and their +correspondence was as regular and frequent as it had ever been; that it +should be equally unreserved was impossible. Elizabeth could never +address her without feeling that all the comfort of intimacy was over, +and, though determined not to slacken as a correspondent, it was for the +sake of what had been, rather than what was. Charlotte's first letters +were received with a good deal of eagerness; there could not but be +curiosity to know how she would speak of her new home, how she would +like Lady Catherine, and how happy she would dare pronounce herself to +be; though, when the letters were read, Elizabeth felt that Charlotte +expressed herself on every point exactly as she might have foreseen. She +wrote cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts, and mentioned nothing +which she could not praise. The house, furniture, neighbourhood, and +roads, were all to her taste, and Lady Catherine's behaviour was most +friendly and obliging. It was Mr. Collins's picture of Hunsford and +Rosings rationally softened; and Elizabeth perceived that she must wait +for her own visit there, to know the rest. + +Jane had already written a few lines to her sister to announce their +safe arrival in London; and when she wrote again, Elizabeth hoped it +would be in her power to say something of the Bingleys. + +Her impatience for this second letter was as well rewarded as impatience +generally is. Jane had been a week in town, without either seeing or +hearing from Caroline. She accounted for it, however, by supposing that +her last letter to her friend from Longbourn, had by some accident been +lost. + +"My aunt," she continued, "is going to-morrow into that part of the +town, and I shall take the opportunity of calling in Grosvenor-street." + +She wrote again when the visit was paid, and she had seen Miss Bingley. +"I did not think Caroline in spirits," were her words, "but she was very +glad to see me, and reproached me for giving her no notice of my coming +to London. I was right, therefore; my last letter had never reached her. +I enquired after their brother, of course. He was well, but so much +engaged with Mr. Darcy, that they scarcely ever saw him. I found that +Miss Darcy was expected to dinner. I wish I could see her. My visit was +not long, as Caroline and Mrs. Hurst were going out. I dare say I shall +soon see them here." + +Elizabeth shook her head over this letter. It convinced her, that +accident only could discover to Mr. Bingley her sister's being in town. + +Four weeks passed away, and Jane saw nothing of him. She endeavoured to +persuade herself that she did not regret it; but she could no longer be +blind to Miss Bingley's inattention. After waiting at home every morning +for a fortnight, and inventing every evening a fresh excuse for her, the +visitor did at last appear; but the shortness of her stay, and yet more, +the alteration of her manner, would allow Jane to deceive herself no +longer. The letter which she wrote on this occasion to her sister, will +prove what she felt. + + "My dearest Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in + her better judgment, at my expence, when I confess myself to have + been entirely deceived in Miss Bingley's regard for me. But, my + dear sister, though the event has proved you right, do not think me + obstinate if I still assert, that, considering what her behaviour + was, my confidence was as natural as your suspicion. I do not at + all comprehend her reason for wishing to be intimate with me, but + if the same circumstances were to happen again, I am sure I should + be deceived again. Caroline did not return my visit till yesterday; + and not a note, not a line, did I receive in the mean time. When + she did come, it was very evident that she had no pleasure in it; + she made a slight, formal, apology, for not calling before, said + not a word of wishing to see me again, and was in every respect so + altered a creature, that when she went away, I was perfectly + resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer. I pity, though I + cannot help blaming her. She was very wrong in singling me out as + she did; I can safely say, that every advance to intimacy began on + her side. But I pity her, because she must feel that she has been + acting wrong, and because I am very sure that anxiety for her + brother is the cause of it. I need not explain myself farther; and + though _we_ know this anxiety to be quite needless, yet if she + feels it, it will easily account for her behaviour to me; and so + deservedly dear as he is to his sister, whatever anxiety she may + feel on his behalf, is natural and amiable. I cannot but wonder, + however, at her having any such fears now, because, if he had at + all cared about me, we must have met long, long ago. He knows of my + being in town, I am certain, from something she said herself; and + yet it should seem by her manner of talking, as if she wanted to + persuade herself that he is really partial to Miss Darcy. I cannot + understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should + be almost tempted to say, that there is a strong appearance of + duplicity in all this. But I will endeavour to banish every painful + thought, and think only of what will make me happy, your affection, + and the invariable kindness of my dear uncle and aunt. Let me hear + from you very soon. Miss Bingley said something of his never + returning to Netherfield again, of giving up the house, but not + with any certainty. We had better not mention it. I am extremely + glad that you have such pleasant accounts from our friends at + Hunsford. Pray go to see them, with Sir William and Maria. I am + sure you will be very comfortable there. + + "Your's, &c." + +This letter gave Elizabeth some pain; but her spirits returned as she +considered that Jane would no longer be duped, by the sister at least. +All expectation from the brother was now absolutely over. She would not +even wish for any renewal of his attentions. His character sunk on every +review of it; and as a punishment for him, as well as a possible +advantage to Jane, she seriously hoped he might really soon marry Mr. +Darcy's sister, as, by Wickham's account, she would make him abundantly +regret what he had thrown away. + +Mrs. Gardiner about this time reminded Elizabeth of her promise +concerning that gentleman, and required information; and Elizabeth had +such to send as might rather give contentment to her aunt than to +herself. His apparent partiality had subsided, his attentions were over, +he was the admirer of some one else. Elizabeth was watchful enough to +see it all, but she could see it and write of it without material pain. +Her heart had been but slightly touched, and her vanity was satisfied +with believing that _she_ would have been his only choice, had fortune +permitted it. The sudden acquisition of ten thousand pounds was the most +remarkable charm of the young lady, to whom he was now rendering himself +agreeable; but Elizabeth, less clear-sighted perhaps in his case than +in Charlotte's, did not quarrel with him for his wish of independence. +Nothing, on the contrary, could be more natural; and while able to +suppose that it cost him a few struggles to relinquish her, she was +ready to allow it a wise and desirable measure for both, and could very +sincerely wish him happy. + +All this was acknowledged to Mrs. Gardiner; and after relating the +circumstances, she thus went on:--"I am now convinced, my dear aunt, +that I have never been much in love; for had I really experienced that +pure and elevating passion, I should at present detest his very name, +and wish him all manner of evil. But my feelings are not only cordial +towards _him_; they are even impartial towards Miss King. I cannot find +out that I hate her at all, or that I am in the least unwilling to think +her a very good sort of girl. There can be no love in all this. My +watchfulness has been effectual; and though I should certainly be a more +interesting object to all my acquaintance, were I distractedly in love +with him, I cannot say that I regret my comparative insignificance. +Importance may sometimes be purchased too dearly. Kitty and Lydia take +his defection much more to heart than I do. They are young in the ways +of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction that +handsome young men must have something to live on, as well as the +plain." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +With no greater events than these in the Longbourn family, and otherwise +diversified by little beyond the walks to Meryton, sometimes dirty and +sometimes cold, did January and February pass away. March was to take +Elizabeth to Hunsford. She had not at first thought very seriously of +going thither; but Charlotte, she soon found, was depending on the plan, +and she gradually learned to consider it herself with greater pleasure +as well as greater certainty. Absence had increased her desire of seeing +Charlotte again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. Collins. There was +novelty in the scheme, and as, with such a mother and such +uncompanionable sisters, home could not be faultless, a little change +was not unwelcome for its own sake. The journey would moreover give her +a peep at Jane; and, in short, as the time drew near, she would have +been very sorry for any delay. Every thing, however, went on smoothly, +and was finally settled according to Charlotte's first sketch. She was +to accompany Sir William and his second daughter. The improvement of +spending a night in London was added in time, and the plan became +perfect as plan could be. + +The only pain was in leaving her father, who would certainly miss her, +and who, when it came to the point, so little liked her going, that he +told her to write to him, and almost promised to answer her letter. + +The farewell between herself and Mr. Wickham was perfectly friendly; on +his side even more. His present pursuit could not make him forget that +Elizabeth had been the first to excite and to deserve his attention, the +first to listen and to pity, the first to be admired; and in his manner +of bidding her adieu, wishing her every enjoyment, reminding her of what +she was to expect in Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and trusting their +opinion of her--their opinion of every body--would always coincide, +there was a solicitude, an interest which she felt must ever attach her +to him with a most sincere regard; and she parted from him convinced, +that whether married or single, he must always be her model of the +amiable and pleasing. + +Her fellow-travellers the next day, were not of a kind to make her think +him less agreeable. Sir William Lucas, and his daughter Maria, a good +humoured girl, but as empty-headed as himself, had nothing to say that +could be worth hearing, and were listened to with about as much delight +as the rattle of the chaise. Elizabeth loved absurdities, but she had +known Sir William's too long. He could tell her nothing new of the +wonders of his presentation and knighthood; and his civilities were worn +out like his information. + +It was a journey of only twenty-four miles, and they began it so early +as to be in Gracechurch-street by noon. As they drove to Mr. Gardiner's +door, Jane was at a drawing-room window watching their arrival; when +they entered the passage she was there to welcome them, and Elizabeth, +looking earnestly in her face, was pleased to see it healthful and +lovely as ever. On the stairs were a troop of little boys and girls, +whose eagerness for their cousin's appearance would not allow them to +wait in the drawing-room, and whose shyness, as they had not seen her +for a twelvemonth, prevented their coming lower. All was joy and +kindness. The day passed most pleasantly away; the morning in bustle and +shopping, and the evening at one of the theatres. + +Elizabeth then contrived to sit by her aunt. Their first subject was her +sister; and she was more grieved than astonished to hear, in reply to +her minute enquiries, that though Jane always struggled to support her +spirits, there were periods of dejection. It was reasonable, however, to +hope, that they would not continue long. Mrs. Gardiner gave her the +particulars also of Miss Bingley's visit in Gracechurch-street, and +repeated conversations occurring at different times between Jane and +herself, which proved that the former had, from her heart, given up the +acquaintance. + +Mrs. Gardiner then rallied her niece on Wickham's desertion, and +complimented her on bearing it so well. + +"But, my dear Elizabeth," she added, "what sort of girl is Miss King? I +should be sorry to think our friend mercenary." + +"Pray, my dear aunt, what is the difference in matrimonial affairs, +between the mercenary and the prudent motive? Where does discretion end, +and avarice begin? Last Christmas you were afraid of his marrying me, +because it would be imprudent; and now, because he is trying to get a +girl with only ten thousand pounds, you want to find out that he is +mercenary." + +"If you will only tell me what sort of girl Miss King is, I shall know +what to think." + +"She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I know no harm of her." + +"But he paid her not the smallest attention, till her grandfather's +death made her mistress of this fortune." + +"No--why should he? If it was not allowable for him to gain _my_ +affections, because I had no money, what occasion could there be for +making love to a girl whom he did not care about, and who was equally +poor?" + +"But there seems indelicacy in directing his attentions towards her, so +soon after this event." + +"A man in distressed circumstances has not time for all those elegant +decorums which other people may observe. If _she_ does not object to it, +why should _we_?" + +"_Her_ not objecting, does not justify _him_. It only shews her being +deficient in something herself--sense or feeling." + +"Well," cried Elizabeth, "have it as you choose. _He_ shall be +mercenary, and _she_ shall be foolish." + +"No, Lizzy, that is what I do _not_ choose. I should be sorry, you know, +to think ill of a young man who has lived so long in Derbyshire." + +"Oh! if that is all, I have a very poor opinion of young men who live in +Derbyshire; and their intimate friends who live in Hertfordshire are not +much better. I am sick of them all. Thank Heaven! I am going to-morrow +where I shall find a man who has not one agreeable quality, who has +neither manner nor sense to recommend him. Stupid men are the only ones +worth knowing, after all." + +"Take care, Lizzy; that speech savours strongly of disappointment." + +Before they were separated by the conclusion of the play, she had the +unexpected happiness of an invitation to accompany her uncle and aunt in +a tour of pleasure which they proposed taking in the summer. + +"We have not quite determined how far it shall carry us," said Mrs. +Gardiner, "but perhaps to the Lakes." + +No scheme could have been more agreeable to Elizabeth, and her +acceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful. "My dear, dear +aunt," she rapturously cried, "what delight! what felicity! You give me +fresh life and vigour. Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What are men +to rocks and mountains? Oh! what hours of transport we shall spend! And +when we _do_ return, it shall not be like other travellers, without +being able to give one accurate idea of any thing. We _will_ know where +we have gone--we _will_ recollect what we have seen. Lakes, mountains, +and rivers, shall not be jumbled together in our imaginations; nor, when +we attempt to describe any particular scene, will we begin quarrelling +about its relative situation. Let _our_ first effusions be less +insupportable than those of the generality of travellers." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +Every object in the next day's journey was new and interesting to +Elizabeth; and her spirits were in a state for enjoyment; for she had +seen her sister looking so well as to banish all fear for her health, +and the prospect of her northern tour was a constant source of delight. + +When they left the high road for the lane to Hunsford, every eye was in +search of the Parsonage, and every turning expected to bring it in view. +The paling of Rosings Park was their boundary on one side. Elizabeth +smiled at the recollection of all that she had heard of its inhabitants. + +At length the Parsonage was discernible. The garden sloping to the road, +the house standing in it, the green pales and the laurel hedge, every +thing declared they were arriving. Mr. Collins and Charlotte appeared at +the door, and the carriage stopped at the small gate, which led by a +short gravel walk to the house, amidst the nods and smiles of the whole +party. In a moment they were all out of the chaise, rejoicing at the +sight of each other. Mrs. Collins welcomed her friend with the liveliest +pleasure, and Elizabeth was more and more satisfied with coming, when +she found herself so affectionately received. She saw instantly that her +cousin's manners were not altered by his marriage; his formal civility +was just what it had been, and he detained her some minutes at the gate +to hear and satisfy his enquiries after all her family. They were then, +with no other delay than his pointing out the neatness of the entrance, +taken into the house; and as soon as they were in the parlour, he +welcomed them a second time with ostentatious formality to his humble +abode, and punctually repeated all his wife's offers of refreshment. + +Elizabeth was prepared to see him in his glory; and she could not help +fancying that in displaying the good proportion of the room, its aspect +and its furniture, he addressed himself particularly to her, as if +wishing to make her feel what she had lost in refusing him. But though +every thing seemed neat and comfortable, she was not able to gratify him +by any sigh of repentance; and rather looked with wonder at her friend +that she could have so cheerful an air, with such a companion. When Mr. +Collins said any thing of which his wife might reasonably be ashamed, +which certainly was not unseldom, she involuntarily turned her eye on +Charlotte. Once or twice she could discern a faint blush; but in general +Charlotte wisely did not hear. After sitting long enough to admire every +article of furniture in the room, from the sideboard to the fender, to +give an account of their journey and of all that had happened in London, +Mr. Collins invited them to take a stroll in the garden, which was large +and well laid out, and to the cultivation of which he attended himself. +To work in his garden was one of his most respectable pleasures; and +Elizabeth admired the command of countenance with which Charlotte talked +of the healthfulness of the exercise, and owned she encouraged it as +much as possible. Here, leading the way through every walk and cross +walk, and scarcely allowing them an interval to utter the praises he +asked for, every view was pointed out with a minuteness which left +beauty entirely behind. He could number the fields in every direction, +and could tell how many trees there were in the most distant clump. But +of all the views which his garden, or which the country, or the kingdom +could boast, none were to be compared with the prospect of Rosings, +afforded by an opening in the trees that bordered the park nearly +opposite the front of his house. It was a handsome modern building, well +situated on rising ground. + +From his garden, Mr. Collins would have led them round his two meadows, +but the ladies not having shoes to encounter the remains of a white +frost, turned back; and while Sir William accompanied him, Charlotte +took her sister and friend over the house, extremely well pleased, +probably, to have the opportunity of shewing it without her husband's +help. It was rather small, but well built and convenient; and every +thing was fitted up and arranged with a neatness and consistency of +which Elizabeth gave Charlotte all the credit. When Mr. Collins could be +forgotten, there was really a great air of comfort throughout, and by +Charlotte's evident enjoyment of it, Elizabeth supposed he must be often +forgotten. + +She had already learnt that Lady Catherine was still in the country. It +was spoken of again while they were at dinner, when Mr. Collins joining +in, observed, + +"Yes, Miss Elizabeth, you will have the honour of seeing Lady Catherine +de Bourgh on the ensuing Sunday at church, and I need not say you will +be delighted with her. She is all affability and condescension, and I +doubt not but you will be honoured with some portion of her notice when +service is over. I have scarcely any hesitation in saying that she will +include you and my sister Maria in every invitation with which she +honours us during your stay here. Her behaviour to my dear Charlotte is +charming. We dine at Rosings twice every week, and are never allowed to +walk home. Her ladyship's carriage is regularly ordered for us. I +_should_ say, one of her ladyship's carriages, for she has several." + +"Lady Catherine is a very respectable, sensible woman indeed," added +Charlotte, "and a most attentive neighbour." + +"Very true, my dear, that is exactly what I say. She is the sort of +woman whom one cannot regard with too much deference." + +The evening was spent chiefly in talking over Hertfordshire news, and +telling again what had been already written; and when it closed, +Elizabeth in the solitude of her chamber had to meditate upon +Charlotte's degree of contentment, to understand her address in guiding, +and composure in bearing with her husband, and to acknowledge that it +was all done very well. She had also to anticipate how her visit would +pass, the quiet tenor of their usual employments, the vexatious +interruptions of Mr. Collins, and the gaieties of their intercourse with +Rosings. A lively imagination soon settled it all. + +About the middle of the next day, as she was in her room getting ready +for a walk, a sudden noise below seemed to speak the whole house in +confusion; and after listening a moment, she heard somebody running up +stairs in a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her. She opened the +door, and met Maria in the landing place, who, breathless with +agitation, cried out, + +"Oh, my dear Eliza! pray make haste and come into the dining-room, for +there is such a sight to be seen! I will not tell you what it is. Make +haste, and come down this moment." + +Elizabeth asked questions in vain; Maria would tell her nothing more, +and down they ran into the dining-room, which fronted the lane, in quest +of this wonder; it was two ladies stopping in a low phaeton at the +garden gate. + +"And is this all?" cried Elizabeth. "I expected at least that the pigs +were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady Catherine and her +daughter!" + +"La! my dear," said Maria quite shocked at the mistake, "it is not Lady +Catherine. The old lady is Mrs. Jenkinson, who lives with them. The +other is Miss De Bourgh. Only look at her. She is quite a little +creature. Who would have thought she could be so thin and small!" + +"She is abominably rude to keep Charlotte out of doors in all this wind. +Why does she not come in?" + +"Oh! Charlotte says, she hardly ever does. It is the greatest of favours +when Miss De Bourgh comes in." + +"I like her appearance," said Elizabeth, struck with other ideas. "She +looks sickly and cross.--Yes, she will do for him very well. She will +make him a very proper wife." + +Mr. Collins and Charlotte were both standing at the gate in +conversation with the ladies; and Sir William, to Elizabeth's high +diversion, was stationed in the doorway, in earnest contemplation of the +greatness before him, and constantly bowing whenever Miss De Bourgh +looked that way. + +At length there was nothing more to be said; the ladies drove on, and +the others returned into the house. Mr. Collins no sooner saw the two +girls than he began to congratulate them on their good fortune, which +Charlotte explained by letting them know that the whole party was asked +to dine at Rosings the next day. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Mr. Collins's triumph in consequence of this invitation was complete. +The power of displaying the grandeur of his patroness to his wondering +visitors, and of letting them see her civility towards himself and his +wife, was exactly what he had wished for; and that an opportunity of +doing it should be given so soon, was such an instance of Lady +Catherine's condescension as he knew not how to admire enough. + +"I confess," said he, "that I should not have been at all surprised by +her Ladyship's asking us on Sunday to drink tea and spend the evening at +Rosings. I rather expected, from my knowledge of her affability, that it +would happen. But who could have foreseen such an attention as this? Who +could have imagined that we should receive an invitation to dine there +(an invitation moreover including the whole party) so immediately after +your arrival!" + +"I am the less surprised at what has happened," replied Sir William, +"from that knowledge of what the manners of the great really are, which +my situation in life has allowed me to acquire. About the Court, such +instances of elegant breeding are not uncommon." + +Scarcely any thing was talked of the whole day or next morning, but +their visit to Rosings. Mr. Collins was carefully instructing them in +what they were to expect, that the sight of such rooms, so many +servants, and so splendid a dinner might not wholly overpower them. + +When the ladies were separating for the toilette, he said to Elizabeth, + +"Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your apparel. Lady +Catherine is far from requiring that elegance of dress in us, which +becomes herself and daughter. I would advise you merely to put on +whatever of your clothes is superior to the rest, there is no occasion +for any thing more. Lady Catherine will not think the worse of you for +being simply dressed. She likes to have the distinction of rank +preserved." + +While they were dressing, he came two or three times to their different +doors, to recommend their being quick, as Lady Catherine very much +objected to be kept waiting for her dinner.--Such formidable accounts of +her Ladyship, and her manner of living, quite frightened Maria Lucas, +who had been little used to company, and she looked forward to her +introduction at Rosings, with as much apprehension, as her father had +done to his presentation at St. James's. + +As the weather was fine, they had a pleasant walk of about half a mile +across the park.--Every park has its beauty and its prospects; and +Elizabeth saw much to be pleased with, though she could not be in such +raptures as Mr. Collins expected the scene to inspire, and was but +slightly affected by his enumeration of the windows in front of the +house, and his relation of what the glazing altogether had originally +cost Sir Lewis De Bourgh. + +When they ascended the steps to the hall, Maria's alarm was every +moment increasing, and even Sir William did not look perfectly +calm.--Elizabeth's courage did not fail her. She had heard nothing of +Lady Catherine that spoke her awful from any extraordinary talents or +miraculous virtue, and the mere stateliness of money and rank, she +thought she could witness without trepidation. + +From the entrance hall, of which Mr. Collins pointed out, with a +rapturous air, the fine proportion and finished ornaments, they followed +the servants through an anti-chamber, to the room where Lady Catherine, +her daughter, and Mrs. Jenkinson were sitting.--Her Ladyship, with great +condescension, arose to receive them; and as Mrs. Collins had settled it +with her husband that the office of introduction should be her's, it was +performed in a proper manner, without any of those apologies and thanks +which he would have thought necessary. + +In spite of having been at St. James's, Sir William was so completely +awed, by the grandeur surrounding him, that he had but just courage +enough to make a very low bow, and take his seat without saying a word; +and his daughter, frightened almost out of her senses, sat on the edge +of her chair, not knowing which way to look. Elizabeth found herself +quite equal to the scene, and could observe the three ladies before her +composedly.--Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman, with +strongly-marked features, which might once have been handsome. Her air +was not conciliating, nor was her manner of receiving them, such as to +make her visitors forget their inferior rank. She was not rendered +formidable by silence; but whatever she said, was spoken in so +authoritative a tone, as marked her self-importance, and brought Mr. +Wickham immediately to Elizabeth's mind; and from the observation of the +day altogether, she believed Lady Catherine to be exactly what he had +represented. + +When, after examining the mother, in whose countenance and deportment +she soon found some resemblance of Mr. Darcy, she turned her eyes on the +daughter, she could almost have joined in Maria's astonishment, at her +being so thin, and so small. There was neither in figure nor face, any +likeness between the ladies. Miss De Bourgh was pale and sickly; her +features, though not plain, were insignificant; and she spoke very +little, except in a low voice, to Mrs. Jenkinson, in whose appearance +there was nothing remarkable, and who was entirely engaged in listening +to what she said, and placing a screen in the proper direction before +her eyes. + +After sitting a few minutes, they were all sent to one of the windows, +to admire the view, Mr. Collins attending them to point out its +beauties, and Lady Catherine kindly informing them that it was much +better worth looking at in the summer. + +The dinner was exceedingly handsome, and there were all the servants, +and all the articles of plate which Mr. Collins had promised; and, as he +had likewise foretold, he took his seat at the bottom of the table, by +her ladyship's desire, and looked as if he felt that life could furnish +nothing greater.--He carved, and ate, and praised with delighted +alacrity; and every dish was commended, first by him, and then by Sir +William, who was now enough recovered to echo whatever his son in law +said, in a manner which Elizabeth wondered Lady Catherine could bear. +But Lady Catherine seemed gratified by their excessive admiration, and +gave most gracious smiles, especially when any dish on the table proved +a novelty to them. The party did not supply much conversation. Elizabeth +was ready to speak whenever there was an opening, but she was seated +between Charlotte and Miss De Bourgh--the former of whom was engaged in +listening to Lady Catherine, and the latter said not a word to her all +dinner time. Mrs. Jenkinson was chiefly employed in watching how little +Miss De Bourgh ate, pressing her to try some other dish, and fearing she +were indisposed. Maria thought speaking out of the question, and the +gentlemen did nothing but eat and admire. + +When the ladies returned to the drawing-room, there was little to be +done but to hear Lady Catherine talk, which she did without any +intermission till coffee came in, delivering her opinion on every +subject in so decisive a manner as proved that she was not used to have +her judgment controverted. She enquired into Charlotte's domestic +concerns familiarly and minutely, and gave her a great deal of advice, +as to the management of them all; told her how every thing ought to be +regulated in so small a family as her's, and instructed her as to the +care of her cows and her poultry. Elizabeth found that nothing was +beneath this great Lady's attention, which could furnish her with an +occasion of dictating to others. In the intervals of her discourse with +Mrs. Collins, she addressed a variety of questions to Maria and +Elizabeth, but especially to the latter, of whose connections she knew +the least, and who she observed to Mrs. Collins, was a very genteel, +pretty kind of girl. She asked her at different times, how many sisters +she had, whether they were older or younger than herself, whether any of +them were likely to be married, whether they were handsome, where they +had been educated, what carriage her father kept, and what had been her +mother's maiden name?--Elizabeth felt all the impertinence of her +questions, but answered them very composedly.--Lady Catherine then +observed, + +"Your father's estate is entailed on Mr. Collins, I think. For your +sake," turning to Charlotte, "I am glad of it; but otherwise I see no +occasion for entailing estates from the female line.--It was not thought +necessary in Sir Lewis de Bourgh's family.--Do you play and sing, Miss +Bennet?" + +"A little." + +"Oh! then--some time or other we shall be happy to hear you. Our +instrument is a capital one, probably superior to----You shall try it +some day.--Do your sisters play and sing?" + +"One of them does." + +"Why did not you all learn?--You ought all to have learned. The Miss +Webbs all play, and their father has not so good an income as +your's.--Do you draw?" + +"No, not at all." + +"What, none of you?" + +"Not one." + +"That is very strange. But I suppose you had no opportunity. Your mother +should have taken you to town every spring for the benefit of masters." + +"My mother would have had no objection, but my father hates London." + +"Has your governess left you?" + +"We never had any governess." + +"No governess! How was that possible? Five daughters brought up at home +without a governess!--I never heard of such a thing. Your mother must +have been quite a slave to your education." + +Elizabeth could hardly help smiling, as she assured her that had not +been the case. + +"Then, who taught you? who attended to you? Without a governess you must +have been neglected." + +"Compared with some families, I believe we were; but such of us as +wished to learn, never wanted the means. We were always encouraged to +read, and had all the masters that were necessary. Those who chose to be +idle, certainly might." + +"Aye, no doubt; but that is what a governess will prevent, and if I had +known your mother, I should have advised her most strenuously to engage +one. I always say that nothing is to be done in education without steady +and regular instruction, and nobody but a governess can give it. It is +wonderful how many families I have been the means of supplying in that +way. I am always glad to get a young person well placed out. Four nieces +of Mrs. Jenkinson are most delightfully situated through my means; and +it was but the other day, that I recommended another young person, who +was merely accidentally mentioned to me, and the family are quite +delighted with her. Mrs. Collins, did I tell you of Lady Metcalfe's +calling yesterday to thank me? She finds Miss Pope a treasure. 'Lady +Catherine,' said she, 'you have given me a treasure.' Are any of your +younger sisters out, Miss Bennet?" + +"Yes, Ma'am, all." + +"All!--What, all five out at once? Very odd!--And you only the +second.--The younger ones out before the elder are married!--Your +younger sisters must be very young?" + +"Yes, my youngest is not sixteen. Perhaps _she_ is full young to be much +in company. But really, Ma'am, I think it would be very hard upon +younger sisters, that they should not have their share of society and +amusement because the elder may not have the means or inclination to +marry early.--The last born has as good a right to the pleasures of +youth, as the first. And to be kept back on _such_ a motive!--I think it +would not be very likely to promote sisterly affection or delicacy of +mind." + +"Upon my word," said her Ladyship, "you give your opinion very +decidedly for so young a person.--Pray, what is your age?" + +"With three younger sisters grown up," replied Elizabeth smiling, "your +Ladyship can hardly expect me to own it." + +Lady Catherine seemed quite astonished at not receiving a direct answer; +and Elizabeth suspected herself to be the first creature who had ever +dared to trifle with so much dignified impertinence. + +"You cannot be more than twenty, I am sure,--therefore you need not +conceal your age." + +"I am not one and twenty." + +When the gentlemen had joined them, and tea was over, the card tables +were placed. Lady Catherine, Sir William, and Mr. and Mrs. Collins sat +down to quadrille; and as Miss De Bourgh chose to play at cassino, the +two girls had the honour of assisting Mrs. Jenkinson to make up her +party. Their table was superlatively stupid. Scarcely a syllable was +uttered that did not relate to the game, except when Mrs. Jenkinson +expressed her fears of Miss De Bourgh's being too hot or too cold, or +having too much or too little light. A great deal more passed at the +other table. Lady Catherine was generally speaking--stating the mistakes +of the three others, or relating some anecdote of herself. Mr. Collins +was employed in agreeing to every thing her Ladyship said, thanking her +for every fish he won, and apologising if he thought he won too many. +Sir William did not say much. He was storing his memory with anecdotes +and noble names. + +When Lady Catherine and her daughter had played as long as they chose, +the tables were broke up, the carriage was offered to Mrs. Collins, +gratefully accepted, and immediately ordered. The party then gathered +round the fire to hear Lady Catherine determine what weather they were +to have on the morrow. From these instructions they were summoned by the +arrival of the coach, and with many speeches of thankfulness on Mr. +Collins's side, and as many bows on Sir William's, they departed. As +soon as they had driven from the door, Elizabeth was called on by her +cousin, to give her opinion of all that she had seen at Rosings, which, +for Charlotte's sake, she made more favourable than it really was. But +her commendation, though costing her some trouble, could by no means +satisfy Mr. Collins, and he was very soon obliged to take her Ladyship's +praise into his own hands. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Sir William staid only a week at Hunsford; but his visit was long enough +to convince him of his daughter's being most comfortably settled, and of +her possessing such a husband and such a neighbour as were not often met +with. While Sir William was with them, Mr. Collins devoted his mornings +to driving him out in his gig, and shewing him the country; but when he +went away, the whole family returned to their usual employments, and +Elizabeth was thankful to find that they did not see more of her cousin +by the alteration, for the chief of the time between breakfast and +dinner was now passed by him either at work in the garden, or in reading +and writing, and looking out of window in his own book room, which +fronted the road. The room in which the ladies sat was backwards. +Elizabeth at first had rather wondered that Charlotte should not prefer +the dining-parlour for common use; it was a better sized room, and had a +pleasanter aspect; but she soon saw that her friend had an excellent +reason for what she did, for Mr. Collins would undoubtedly have been +much less in his own apartment, had they sat in one equally lively; and +she gave Charlotte credit for the arrangement. + +From the drawing-room they could distinguish nothing in the lane, and +were indebted to Mr. Collins for the knowledge of what carriages went +along, and how often especially Miss De Bourgh drove by in her phaeton, +which he never failed coming to inform them of, though it happened +almost every day. She not unfrequently stopped at the Parsonage, and had +a few minutes' conversation with Charlotte, but was scarcely ever +prevailed on to get out. + +Very few days passed in which Mr. Collins did not walk to Rosings, and +not many in which his wife did not think it necessary to go likewise; +and till Elizabeth recollected that there might be other family livings +to be disposed of, she could not understand the sacrifice of so many +hours. Now and then, they were honoured with a call from her Ladyship, +and nothing escaped her observation that was passing in the room during +these visits. She examined into their employments, looked at their work, +and advised them to do it differently; found fault with the arrangement +of the furniture, or detected the housemaid in negligence; and if she +accepted any refreshment, seemed to do it only for the sake of finding +out that Mrs. Collins's joints of meat were too large for her family. + +Elizabeth soon perceived that though this great lady was not in the +commission of the peace for the county, she was a most active magistrate +in her own parish, the minutest concerns of which were carried to her by +Mr. Collins; and whenever any of the cottagers were disposed to be +quarrelsome, discontented or too poor, she sallied forth into the +village to settle their differences, silence their complaints, and scold +them into harmony and plenty. + +The entertainment of dining at Rosings was repeated about twice a week; +and, allowing for the loss of Sir William, and there being only one card +table in the evening, every such entertainment was the counterpart of +the first. Their other engagements were few; as the style of living of +the neighbourhood in general, was beyond the Collinses' reach. This +however was no evil to Elizabeth, and upon the whole she spent her time +comfortably enough; there were half hours of pleasant conversation with +Charlotte, and the weather was so fine for the time of year, that she +had often great enjoyment out of doors. Her favourite walk, and where +she frequently went while the others were calling on Lady Catherine, was +along the open grove which edged that side of the park, where there was +a nice sheltered path, which no one seemed to value but herself, and +where she felt beyond the reach of Lady Catherine's curiosity. + +In this quiet way, the first fortnight of her visit soon passed away. +Easter was approaching, and the week preceding it, was to bring an +addition to the family at Rosings, which in so small a circle must be +important. Elizabeth had heard soon after her arrival, that Mr. Darcy +was expected there in the course of a few weeks, and though there were +not many of her acquaintance whom she did not prefer, his coming would +furnish one comparatively new to look at in their Rosings parties, and +she might be amused in seeing how hopeless Miss Bingley's designs on him +were, by his behaviour to his cousin, for whom he was evidently destined +by Lady Catherine; who talked of his coming with the greatest +satisfaction, spoke of him in terms of the highest admiration, and +seemed almost angry to find that he had already been frequently seen by +Miss Lucas and herself. + +His arrival was soon known at the Parsonage, for Mr. Collins was walking +the whole morning within view of the lodges opening into Hunsford Lane, +in order to have the earliest assurance of it; and after making his bow +as the carriage turned into the Park, hurried home with the great +intelligence. On the following morning he hastened to Rosings to pay his +respects. There were two nephews of Lady Catherine to require them, for +Mr. Darcy had brought with him a Colonel Fitzwilliam, the younger son of +his uncle, Lord ---- and to the great surprise of all the party, when +Mr. Collins returned the gentlemen accompanied him. Charlotte had seen +them from her husband's room, crossing the road, and immediately running +into the other, told the girls what an honour they might expect, adding, + +"I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy would +never have come so soon to wait upon me." + +Elizabeth had scarcely time to disclaim all right to the compliment, +before their approach was announced by the door-bell, and shortly +afterwards the three gentlemen entered the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam, +who led the way, was about thirty, not handsome, but in person and +address most truly the gentleman. Mr. Darcy looked just as he had been +used to look in Hertfordshire, paid his compliments, with his usual +reserve, to Mrs. Collins; and whatever might be his feelings towards her +friend, met her with every appearance of composure. Elizabeth merely +curtseyed to him, without saying a word. + +Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversation directly with the +readiness and ease of a well-bred man, and talked very pleasantly; but +his cousin, after having addressed a slight observation on the house and +garden to Mrs. Collins, sat for some time without speaking to any body. +At length, however, his civility was so far awakened as to enquire of +Elizabeth after the health of her family. She answered him in the usual +way, and after a moment's pause, added, + +"My eldest sister has been in town these three months. Have you never +happened to see her there?" + +She was perfectly sensible that he never had; but she wished to see +whether he would betray any consciousness of what had passed between the +Bingleys and Jane; and she thought he looked a little confused as he +answered that he had never been so fortunate as to meet Miss Bennet. The +subject was pursued no farther, and the gentlemen soon afterwards went +away. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners were very much admired at the parsonage, +and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the pleasure of +their engagements at Rosings. It was some days, however, before they +received any invitation thither, for while there were visitors in the +house, they could not be necessary; and it was not till Easter-day, +almost a week after the gentlemen's arrival, that they were honoured by +such an attention, and then they were merely asked on leaving church to +come there in the evening. For the last week they had seen very little +of either Lady Catherine or her daughter. Colonel Fitzwilliam had called +at the parsonage more than once during the time, but Mr. Darcy they had +only seen at church. + +The invitation was accepted of course, and at a proper hour they joined +the party in Lady Catherine's drawing-room. Her ladyship received them +civilly, but it was plain that their company was by no means so +acceptable as when she could get nobody else; and she was, in fact, +almost engrossed by her nephews, speaking to them, especially to Darcy, +much more than to any other person in the room. + +Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed really glad to see them; any thing was a +welcome relief to him at Rosings; and Mrs. Collins's pretty friend had +moreover caught his fancy very much. He now seated himself by her, and +talked so agreeably of Kent and Hertfordshire, of travelling and staying +at home, of new books and music, that Elizabeth had never been half so +well entertained in that room before; and they conversed with so much +spirit and flow, as to draw the attention of Lady Catherine herself, as +well as of Mr. Darcy. _His_ eyes had been soon and repeatedly turned +towards them with a look of curiosity; and that her ladyship after a +while shared the feeling, was more openly acknowledged, for she did not +scruple to call out, + +"What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking +of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is." + +"We are speaking of music, Madam," said he, when no longer able to avoid +a reply. + +"Of music! Then pray speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I +must have my share in the conversation, if you are speaking of music. +There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment +of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, I +should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health +had allowed her to apply. I am confident that she would have performed +delightfully. How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?" + +Mr. Darcy spoke with affectionate praise of his sister's proficiency. + +"I am very glad to hear such a good account of her," said Lady +Catherine; "and pray tell her from me, that she cannot expect to excel, +if she does not practise a great deal." + +"I assure you, Madam," he replied, "that she does not need such advice. +She practises very constantly." + +"So much the better. It cannot be done too much; and when I next write +to her, I shall charge her not to neglect it on any account. I often +tell young ladies, that no excellence in music is to be acquired, +without constant practice. I have told Miss Bennet several times, that +she will never play really well, unless she practises more; and though +Mrs. Collins has no instrument, she is very welcome, as I have often +told her, to come to Rosings every day, and play on the piano-forte in +Mrs. Jenkinson's room. She would be in nobody's way, you know, in that +part of the house." + +Mr. Darcy looked a little ashamed of his aunt's ill breeding, and made +no answer. + +When coffee was over, Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded Elizabeth of having +promised to play to him; and she sat down directly to the instrument. He +drew a chair near her. Lady Catherine listened to half a song, and then +talked, as before, to her other nephew; till the latter walked away from +her, and moving with his usual deliberation towards the piano-forte, +stationed himself so as to command a full view of the fair performer's +countenance. Elizabeth saw what he was doing, and at the first +convenient pause, turned to him with an arch smile, and said, + +"You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear +me? But I will not be alarmed though your sister _does_ play so well. +There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at +the will of others. My courage always rises with every attempt to +intimidate me." + +"I shall not say that you are mistaken," he replied, "because you could +not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you; and I +have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know, that you +find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact +are not your own." + +Elizabeth laughed heartily at this picture of herself, and said to +Colonel Fitzwilliam, "Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of +me, and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky +in meeting with a person so well able to expose my real character, in a +part of the world, where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree +of credit. Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous in you to mention +all that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire--and, give me +leave to say, very impolitic too--for it is provoking me to retaliate, +and such things may come out, as will shock your relations to hear." + +"I am not afraid of you," said he, smilingly. + +"Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of," cried Colonel +Fitzwilliam. "I should like to know how he behaves among strangers." + +"You shall hear then--but prepare yourself for something very dreadful. +The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know, +was at a ball--and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced +only four dances! I am sorry to pain you--but so it was. He danced only +four dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain knowledge, +more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner. Mr. +Darcy, you cannot deny the fact." + +"I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly +beyond my own party." + +"True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball room. Well, Colonel +Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders." + +"Perhaps," said Darcy, "I should have judged better, had I sought an +introduction, but I am ill qualified to recommend myself to strangers." + +"Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?" said Elizabeth, still +addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Shall we ask him why a man of sense and +education, and who has lived in the world, is ill qualified to recommend +himself to strangers?" + +"I can answer your question," said Fitzwilliam, "without applying to +him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble." + +"I certainly have not the talent which some people possess," said Darcy, +"of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot +catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their +concerns, as I often see done." + +"My fingers," said Elizabeth, "do not move over this instrument in the +masterly manner which I see so many women's do. They have not the same +force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I +have always supposed it to be my own fault--because I would not take the +trouble of practising. It is not that I do not believe _my_ fingers as +capable as any other woman's of superior execution." + +Darcy smiled and said, "You are perfectly right. You have employed your +time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you, can +think any thing wanting. We neither of us perform to strangers." + +Here they were interrupted by Lady Catherine, who called out to know +what they were talking of. Elizabeth immediately began playing again. +Lady Catherine approached, and, after listening for a few minutes, said +to Darcy, + +"Miss Bennet would not play at all amiss, if she practised more, and +could have the advantage of a London master. She has a very good notion +of fingering, though her taste is not equal to Anne's. Anne would have +been a delightful performer, had her health allowed her to learn." + +Elizabeth looked at Darcy to see how cordially he assented to his +cousin's praise; but neither at that moment nor at any other could she +discern any symptom of love; and from the whole of his behaviour to Miss +De Bourgh she derived this comfort for Miss Bingley, that he might have +been just as likely to marry _her_, had she been his relation. + +Lady Catherine continued her remarks on Elizabeth's performance, mixing +with them many instructions on execution and taste. Elizabeth received +them with all the forbearance of civility; and at the request of the +gentlemen remained at the instrument till her Ladyship's carriage was +ready to take them all home. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Elizabeth was sitting by herself the next morning, and writing to Jane, +while Mrs. Collins and Maria were gone on business into the village, +when she was startled by a ring at the door, the certain signal of a +visitor. As she had heard no carriage, she thought it not unlikely to be +Lady Catherine, and under that apprehension was putting away her +half-finished letter that she might escape all impertinent questions, +when the door opened, and to her very great surprise, Mr. Darcy, and Mr. +Darcy only, entered the room. + +He seemed astonished too on finding her alone, and apologised for his +intrusion, by letting her know that he had understood all the ladies to +be within. + +They then sat down, and when her enquiries after Rosings were made, +seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. It was absolutely +necessary, therefore, to think of something, and in this emergence +recollecting _when_ she had seen him last in Hertfordshire, and feeling +curious to know what he would say on the subject of their hasty +departure, she observed, + +"How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy! +It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see you +all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but the day +before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London." + +"Perfectly so--I thank you." + +She found that she was to receive no other answer--and, after a short +pause, added, + +"I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever +returning to Netherfield again?" + +"I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spend +very little of his time there in future. He has many friends, and he is +at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually +increasing." + +"If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the +neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we +might possibly get a settled family there. But perhaps Mr. Bingley did +not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as +for his own, and we must expect him to keep or quit it on the same +principle." + +"I should not be surprised," said Darcy, "if he were to give it up, as +soon as any eligible purchase offers." + +Elizabeth made no answer. She was afraid of talking longer of his +friend; and, having nothing else to say, was now determined to leave the +trouble of finding a subject to him. + +He took the hint, and soon began with, "This seems a very comfortable +house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. +Collins first came to Hunsford." + +"I believe she did--and I am sure she could not have bestowed her +kindness on a more grateful object." + +"Mr. Collins appears very fortunate in his choice of a wife." + +"Yes, indeed; his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of +the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made +him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding--though +I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the wisest +thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a +prudential light, it is certainly a very good match for her." + +"It must be very agreeable to her to be settled within so easy a +distance of her own family and friends." + +"An easy distance do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles." + +"And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day's +journey. Yes, I call it a _very_ easy distance." + +"I should never have considered the distance as one of the _advantages_ +of the match," cried Elizabeth. "I should never have said Mrs. Collins +was settled _near_ her family." + +"It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Any thing beyond +the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far." + +As he spoke there was a sort of smile, which Elizabeth fancied she +understood; he must be supposing her to be thinking of Jane and +Netherfield, and she blushed as she answered, + +"I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her +family. The far and the near must be relative, and depend on many +varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expence of +travelling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the +case _here_. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not +such a one as will allow of frequent journeys--and I am persuaded my +friend would not call herself _near_ her family under less than _half_ +the present distance." + +Mr. Darcy drew his chair a little towards her, and said, "_You_ cannot +have a right to such very strong local attachment. _You_ cannot have +been always at Longbourn." + +Elizabeth looked surprised. The gentleman experienced some change of +feeling; he drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and, +glancing over it, said, in a colder voice, + +"Are you pleased with Kent?" + +A short dialogue on the subject of the country ensued, on either side +calm and concise--and soon put an end to by the entrance of Charlotte +and her sister, just returned from their walk. The tête-à-tête surprised +them. Mr. Darcy related the mistake which had occasioned his intruding +on Miss Bennet, and after sitting a few minutes longer without saying +much to any body, went away. + +"What can be the meaning of this!" said Charlotte, as soon as he was +gone. "My dear Eliza he must be in love with you, or he would never have +called on us in this familiar way." + +But when Elizabeth told of his silence, it did not seem very likely, +even to Charlotte's wishes, to be the case; and after various +conjectures, they could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from +the difficulty of finding any thing to do, which was the more probable +from the time of year. All field sports were over. Within doors there +was Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard table, but gentlemen cannot be +always within doors; and in the nearness of the Parsonage, or the +pleasantness of the walk to it, or of the people who lived in it, the +two cousins found a temptation from this period of walking thither +almost every day. They called at various times of the morning, sometimes +separately, sometimes together, and now and then accompanied by their +aunt. It was plain to them all that Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he +had pleasure in their society, a persuasion which of course recommended +him still more; and Elizabeth was reminded by her own satisfaction in +being with him, as well as by his evident admiration of her, of her +former favourite George Wickham; and though, in comparing them, she saw +there was less captivating softness in Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners, +she believed he might have the best informed mind. + +But why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage, it was more difficult +to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there +ten minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak, it +seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice--a sacrifice to +propriety, not a pleasure to himself. He seldom appeared really +animated. Mrs. Collins knew not what to make of him. Colonel +Fitzwilliam's occasionally laughing at his stupidity, proved that he was +generally different, which her own knowledge of him could not have told +her; and as she would have liked to believe this change the effect of +love, and the object of that love, her friend Eliza, she sat herself +seriously to work to find it out.--She watched him whenever they were at +Rosings, and whenever he came to Hunsford; but without much success. He +certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that +look was disputable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she often +doubted whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it +seemed nothing but absence of mind. + +She had once or twice suggested to Elizabeth the possibility of his +being partial to her, but Elizabeth always laughed at the idea; and Mrs. +Collins did not think it right to press the subject, from the danger of +raising expectations which might only end in disappointment; for in her +opinion it admitted not of a doubt, that all her friend's dislike would +vanish, if she could suppose him to be in her power. + +In her kind schemes for Elizabeth, she sometimes planned her marrying +Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was beyond comparison the pleasantest man; he +certainly admired her, and his situation in life was most eligible; but, +to counterbalance these advantages, Mr. Darcy had considerable patronage +in the church, and his cousin could have none at all. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +More than once did Elizabeth in her ramble within the Park, unexpectedly +meet Mr. Darcy.--She felt all the perverseness of the mischance that +should bring him where no one else was brought; and to prevent its ever +happening again, took care to inform him at first, that it was a +favourite haunt of hers.--How it could occur a second time therefore was +very odd!--Yet it did, and even a third. It seemed like wilful +ill-nature, or a voluntary penance, for on these occasions it was not +merely a few formal enquiries and an awkward pause and then away, but he +actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her. He never +said a great deal, nor did she give herself the trouble of talking or of +listening much; but it struck her in the course of their third rencontre +that he was asking some odd unconnected questions--about her pleasure in +being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her opinion of Mr. +and Mrs. Collins's happiness; and that in speaking of Rosings and her +not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed to expect that whenever +she came into Kent again she would be staying _there_ too. His words +seemed to imply it. Could he have Colonel Fitzwilliam in his thoughts? +She supposed, if he meant any thing, he must mean an allusion to what +might arise in that quarter. It distressed her a little, and she was +quite glad to find herself at the gate in the pales opposite the +Parsonage. + +She was engaged one day as she walked, in re-perusing Jane's last +letter, and dwelling on some passages which proved that Jane had not +written in spirits, when, instead of being again surprised by Mr. Darcy, +she saw on looking up that Colonel Fitzwilliam was meeting her. Putting +away the letter immediately and forcing a smile, she said, + +"I did not know before that you ever walked this way." + +"I have been making the tour of the Park," he replied, "as I generally +do every year, and intend to close it with a call at the Parsonage. Are +you going much farther?" + +"No, I should have turned in a moment." + +And accordingly she did turn, and they walked towards the Parsonage +together. + +"Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?" said she. + +"Yes--if Darcy does not put it off again. But I am at his disposal. He +arranges the business just as he pleases." + +"And if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least +great pleasure in the power of choice. I do not know any body who seems +more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy." + +"He likes to have his own way very well," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. +"But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it than +many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak +feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and +dependence." + +"In my opinion, the younger son of an Earl can know very little of +either. Now, seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and +dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going +wherever you chose, or procuring any thing you had a fancy for?" + +"These are home questions--and perhaps I cannot say that I have +experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater +weight, I may suffer from the want of money. Younger sons cannot marry +where they like." + +"Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often +do." + +"Our habits of expence make us too dependant, and there are not many in +my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to +money." + +"Is this," thought Elizabeth, "meant for me?" and she coloured at the +idea; but, recovering herself, said in a lively tone, "And pray, what is +the usual price of an Earl's younger son? Unless the elder brother is +very sickly, I suppose you would not ask above fifty thousand pounds." + +He answered her in the same style, and the subject dropped. To interrupt +a silence which might make him fancy her affected with what had passed, +she soon afterwards said, + +"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." + +"No," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, "that is an advantage which he must +divide with me. I am joined with him in the guardianship of Miss Darcy." + +"Are you, indeed? And pray what sort of guardians 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." + +As she spoke, she observed him looking at her earnestly, and the manner +in which he immediately asked her why she supposed Miss Darcy likely to +give them any uneasiness, convinced her that she had somehow or other +got pretty near the truth. She directly replied, + +"You need not be frightened. I never heard any harm of her; and I dare +say she is one of the most tractable creatures in the world. She is a +very great favourite with some ladies of my acquaintance, Mrs. Hurst and +Miss Bingley. I think I have heard you say that you know them." + +"I know them a little. Their brother is a pleasant gentleman-like +man--he is a great friend of Darcy's." + +"Oh! yes," said Elizabeth drily--"Mr. Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr. +Bingley, and takes a prodigious deal of care of him." + +"Care of him!--Yes, I really believe Darcy _does_ take care of him in +those points where he most wants care. From something that he told me in +our journey hither, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted to +him. But I ought to beg his pardon, for I have no right to suppose that +Bingley was the person meant. It was all conjecture." + +"What is it you mean?" + +"It is a circumstance which Darcy of course would not wish to be +generally known, because if it were to get round to the lady's family, +it would be an unpleasant thing." + +"You may depend upon my not mentioning it." + +"And remember that I have not 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 mentioning names or any other +particulars, and I only suspected it to be Bingley from believing him +the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort, and from +knowing them to have been together the whole of last summer." + +"Did Mr. Darcy give you his reasons for this interference?" + +"I understood that there were some very strong objections against the +lady." + +"And what arts did he use to separate them?" + +"He did not talk to me of his own arts," said Fitzwilliam smiling. "He +only told me, what I have now told you." + +Elizabeth made no answer, and walked on, her heart swelling with +indignation. After watching her a little, Fitzwilliam asked her why she +was so thoughtful. + +"I am thinking of what you have been telling me," said she. "Your +cousin's conduct does not suit my feelings. Why was he to be the judge?" + +"You are rather disposed to call his interference officious?" + +"I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of +his friend's inclination, or why, upon his own judgment alone, he was to +determine and direct in what manner that friend was to be happy." "But," +she continued, recollecting herself, "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." + +"That is not an unnatural surmise," said Fitzwilliam, "but it is +lessening the honour of my cousin's triumph very sadly." + +This was spoken jestingly, but it appeared to her so just a picture of +Mr. Darcy, that she would not trust herself with an answer; and, +therefore, abruptly changing the conversation, talked on indifferent +matters till they reached the parsonage. There, shut into her own room, +as soon as their visitor left them, she could think without interruption +of all that she had heard. It was not to be supposed that any other +people could be meant than those with whom she was connected. There +could not exist in the world _two_ men, over whom Mr. Darcy could have +such boundless influence. That he had been concerned in the measures +taken to separate Mr. Bingley and Jane, she had never doubted; but she +had always attributed to Miss Bingley the principal design and +arrangement of them. If his own vanity, however, did not mislead him, +_he_ was the cause, his pride and caprice were the cause of all that +Jane had suffered, and still continued to suffer. He had ruined for a +while every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart +in the world; and no one could say how lasting an evil he might have +inflicted. + +"There were some very strong objections against the lady," were Colonel +Fitzwilliam's words, and these strong objections probably were, her +having one uncle who was a country attorney, and another who was in +business in London. + +"To Jane herself," she exclaimed, "there could be no possibility of +objection. All loveliness and goodness as she is! Her understanding +excellent, her mind improved, and her manners captivating. Neither could +any thing be urged against my father, who, though with some +peculiarities, has abilities which Mr. Darcy himself need not disdain, +and respectability which he will probably never reach." When she thought +of her mother indeed, her confidence gave way a little, but she would +not allow that any objections _there_ had material weight with Mr. +Darcy, whose pride, she was convinced, would receive a deeper wound from +the want of importance in his friend's connections, than from their want +of sense; and she was quite decided at last, that he had been partly +governed by this worst kind of pride, and partly by the wish of +retaining Mr. Bingley for his sister. + +The agitation and tears which the subject occasioned, brought on a +headache; and it grew so much worse towards the evening that, added to +her unwillingness to see Mr. Darcy, it determined her not to attend her +cousins to Rosings, where they were engaged to drink tea. Mrs. Collins, +seeing that she was really unwell, did not press her to go, and as much +as possible prevented her husband from pressing her, but Mr. Collins +could not conceal his apprehension of Lady Catherine's being rather +displeased by her staying at home. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +When they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself as +much as possible against Mr. Darcy, chose for her employment the +examination of all the letters which Jane had written to her since her +being in Kent. They contained no actual complaint, nor was there any +revival of past occurrences, or any communication of present suffering. +But in all, and in almost every line of each, there was a want of that +cheerfulness which had been used to characterize her style, and which, +proceeding from the serenity of a mind at ease with itself, and kindly +disposed towards every one, had been scarcely ever clouded. Elizabeth +noticed every sentence conveying the idea of uneasiness, with an +attention which it had hardly received on the first perusal. Mr. Darcy's +shameful boast of what misery he had been able to inflict, gave her a +keener sense of her sister's sufferings. It was some consolation to +think that his visit to Rosings was to end on the day after the next, +and a still greater, that in less than a fortnight she should herself be +with Jane again, and enabled to contribute to the recovery of her +spirits, by all that affection could do. + +She could not think of Darcy's leaving Kent, without remembering that +his cousin was to go with him; but Colonel Fitzwilliam had made it clear +that he had no intentions at all, and agreeable as he was, she did not +mean to be unhappy about him. + +While settling this point, she was suddenly roused by the sound of the +door bell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its +being Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who had once before called late in +the evening, and might now come to enquire particularly after her. But +this idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differently +affected, when, to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the +room. In an hurried manner he immediately began an enquiry after her +health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better. +She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and +then getting up walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but said +not a word. After a silence of several minutes he came towards her in an +agitated manner, and thus began, + +"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's astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured, +doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement, +and the avowal of all that he felt and had long felt for her, +immediately followed. He spoke well, but there were feelings besides +those of the heart to be detailed, and he was not more eloquent on the +subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority--of +its being a degradation--of the family obstacles which judgment had +always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed +due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to +recommend his suit. + +In spite of her deeply-rooted dislike, she could not be insensible to +the compliment of such a man's affection, and though her intentions did +not vary for an instant, she was at first sorry for the pain he was to +receive; till, roused to resentment by his subsequent language, she lost +all compassion in anger. She tried, however, to compose herself to +answer him with patience, when he should have done. He concluded with +representing to her the strength of that attachment which, in spite of +all his endeavours, he had found impossible to conquer; and with +expressing his hope that it would now be rewarded by her acceptance of +his hand. As he said this, she could easily see that he had no doubt of +a favourable answer. He _spoke_ of apprehension and anxiety, but his +countenance expressed real security. Such a circumstance could only +exasperate farther, and when he ceased, the colour rose into her +cheeks, and she said, + +"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. It is natural that obligation should be +felt, and 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. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to any +one. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be of +short duration. The feelings which, you tell me, have long prevented the +acknowledgment of your regard, can have little difficulty in overcoming +it after this explanation." + +Mr. Darcy, who was leaning against the mantle-piece with his eyes fixed +on her face, seemed to catch her words with no less resentment than +surprise. His complexion became pale with anger, and the disturbance of +his mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for the +appearance of composure, and would not open his lips, till he believed +himself to have attained it. The pause was to Elizabeth's feelings +dreadful. At length, in a voice of forced calmness, he said, + +"And this 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." + +"I might as well enquire," replied she, "why with so evident a design of +offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me +against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? +Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I _was_ uncivil? But I have +other provocations. You know I have. Had not my own feelings decided +against you, had they been indifferent, or had they even been +favourable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept +the man, who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the +happiness of a most beloved sister?" + +As she pronounced these words, Mr. Darcy changed colour; but the emotion +was short, and he listened without attempting to interrupt her while she +continued. + +"I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No motive can +excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted _there_. You dare not, +you cannot deny that you have been the principal, if not the only means +of dividing them from each other, of exposing one to the censure of the +world for caprice and instability, the other to its derision for +disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest +kind." + +She paused, and saw with no slight indignation that he was listening +with an air which proved him wholly unmoved by any feeling of remorse. +He even looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity. + +"Can you deny that you have done it?" she repeated. + +With assumed tranquillity he then replied, "I have no wish of denying +that I did every thing in my power to separate my friend from your +sister, or that I rejoice in my success. Towards _him_ I have been +kinder than towards myself." + +Elizabeth disdained the appearance of noticing this civil reflection, +but its meaning did not escape, nor was it likely to conciliate her. + +"But it is not merely this affair," she continued, "on which my dislike +is founded. Long before it had taken place, my opinion of you was +decided. Your character was unfolded in the recital which I received +many months ago from Mr. Wickham. On this subject, what can you have to +say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself? +or under what misrepresentation, can you here impose upon others?" + +"You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns," said Darcy in +a less tranquil tone, and with a heightened colour. + +"Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an +interest in him?" + +"His misfortunes!" repeated Darcy contemptuously; "yes, his misfortunes +have been great indeed." + +"And of your infliction," cried Elizabeth with energy. "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 deprived the best years of his life, of that independence +which was no less his due than his desert. You have done all this! and +yet you can treat the mention of his misfortunes with contempt and +ridicule." + +"And this," cried Darcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room, +"is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I +thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this +calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps," added he, stopping in his +walk, and turning towards her, "these offences might have been +overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the +scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These +bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I with greater policy +concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my being +impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination; by reason, by +reflection, by every thing. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. +Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just. +Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? +To congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life +is so decidedly beneath my own?" + +Elizabeth felt herself growing more angry every moment; yet she tried to +the utmost to speak with composure when she said, + +"You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your +declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the +concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a +more gentleman-like manner." + +She saw him start at this, but he said nothing, and she continued, + +"You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way +that would have tempted me to accept it." + +Again his astonishment was obvious; and he looked at her with an +expression of mingled incredulity and mortification. She went on. + +"From the very beginning, from the first moment I may almost say, of my +acquaintance with you, your manners impressing me with the fullest +belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the +feelings of others, were such as to form that ground-work of +disapprobation, on which succeeding events have built so immoveable a +dislike; and 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 on to marry." + +"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." + +And with these words he hastily left the room, and Elizabeth heard him +the next moment open the front door and quit the house. + +The tumult of her mind was now painfully great. She knew not how to +support herself, and from actual weakness sat down and cried for half an +hour. Her astonishment, as she reflected on what had passed, was +increased by every review of it. That she should receive an offer of +marriage from Mr. Darcy! that he should have been in love with her for +so many months! so much in love as to wish to marry her in spite of all +the objections which had made him prevent his friend's marrying her +sister, and which must appear at least with equal force in his own case, +was almost incredible! it was gratifying to have inspired unconsciously +so strong an affection. But his pride, his abominable pride, his +shameless avowal of what he had done with respect to Jane, his +unpardonable assurance in acknowledging, though he could not justify it, +and the unfeeling manner in which he had mentioned Mr. Wickham, his +cruelty towards whom he had not attempted to deny, soon overcame the +pity which the consideration of his attachment had for a moment excited. + +She continued in very agitating reflections till the sound of Lady +Catherine's carriage made her feel how unequal she was to encounter +Charlotte's observation, and hurried her away to her room. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +Elizabeth awoke the next morning to the same thoughts and meditations +which had at length closed her eyes. She could not yet recover from the +surprise of what had happened; it was impossible to think of any thing +else, and totally indisposed for employment, she resolved soon after +breakfast to indulge herself in air and exercise. She was proceeding +directly to her favourite walk, when the recollection of Mr. Darcy's +sometimes coming there stopped her, and instead of entering the park, +she turned up the lane, which led her farther from the turnpike road. +The park paling was still the boundary on one side, and she soon passed +one of the gates into the ground. + +After walking two or three times along that part of the lane, she was +tempted, by the pleasantness of the morning, to stop at the gates and +look into the park. The five weeks which she had now passed in Kent, had +made a great difference in the country, and every day was adding to the +verdure of the early trees. She was on the point of continuing her walk, +when she caught a glimpse of a gentleman within the sort of grove which +edged the park; he was moving that way; and fearful of its being Mr. +Darcy, she was directly retreating. But the person who advanced, was now +near enough to see her, and stepping forward with eagerness, pronounced +her name. She had turned away, but on hearing herself called, though in +a voice which proved it to be Mr. Darcy, she moved again towards the +gate. He had by that time reached it also, and holding out a letter, +which she instinctively took, said with a look of haughty composure, "I +have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you. +Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?"--And then, with a +slight bow, turned again into the plantation, and was soon out of +sight. + +With no expectation of pleasure, but with the strongest curiosity, +Elizabeth opened the letter, and to her still increasing wonder, +perceived an envelope containing two sheets of letter paper, written +quite through, in a very close hand.--The envelope itself was likewise +full.--Pursuing her way along the lane, she then began it. It was dated +from Rosings, at eight o'clock in the morning, and was as follows:-- + + "Be not alarmed, Madam, on receiving this letter, by the + apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments, + or renewal of those offers, which were last night so disgusting to + you. I write without any intention of paining you, or humbling + myself, by dwelling on wishes, which, for the happiness of both, + cannot be too soon forgotten; and the effort which the formation, + and the perusal of this letter must occasion, should have been + spared, had not my character required it to be written and read. + You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand your + attention; your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I + demand it of your justice. + + "Two offences of a very different nature, and by no means of equal + magnitude, you last night laid to my charge. The first mentioned + was, that, regardless of the sentiments of either, I had detached + Mr. Bingley from your sister,--and the other, that I had, in + defiance of various claims, in defiance of honour and humanity, + ruined the immediate prosperity, and blasted the prospects of Mr. + Wickham.--Wilfully and wantonly to have thrown off the companion of + my youth, the acknowledged favourite of my father, a young man who + had scarcely any other dependence than on our patronage, and who + had been brought up to expect its exertion, would be a depravity, + to which the separation of two young persons, whose affection could + be the growth of only a few weeks, could bear no comparison.--But + from the severity of that blame which was last night so liberally + bestowed, respecting each circumstance, I shall hope to be in + future secured, when the following account of my actions and their + motives has been read.--If, in the explanation of them which is + due to myself, I am under the necessity of relating feelings which + may be offensive to your's, I can only say that I am sorry.--The + necessity must be obeyed--and farther apology would be absurd.--I + had not been long in Hertfordshire, before I saw, in common with + others, that Bingley preferred your eldest sister, to any other + young woman in the country.--But it was not till the evening of the + dance at Netherfield that I had any apprehension of his feeling a + serious attachment.--I had often seen him in love before.--At that + ball, while I had the honour of dancing with you, I was first made + acquainted, by Sir William Lucas's accidental information, that + Bingley's attentions to your sister had given rise to a general + expectation of their marriage. He spoke of it as a certain event, + of which the time alone could be undecided. From that moment I + observed my friend's behaviour attentively; and I could then + perceive that his partiality for Miss Bennet was beyond what I had + ever witnessed in him. Your sister I also watched.--Her look and + manners were open, cheerful and engaging as ever, but without any + symptom of peculiar regard, and I remained convinced from the + evening's scrutiny, that though she received his attentions with + pleasure, she did not invite them by any participation of + sentiment.--If _you_ have not been mistaken here, _I_ must have + been in an error. Your superior knowledge of your sister must make + the latter probable.--If it be so, if I have been misled by such + error, to inflict pain on her, your resentment has not been + unreasonable. But I shall not scruple to assert, that the serenity + of your sister's countenance and air was such, as might have given + the most acute observer, a conviction that, however amiable her + temper, her heart was not likely to be easily touched.--That I was + desirous of believing her indifferent is certain,--but I will + venture to say that my investigations and decisions are not usually + influenced by my hopes or fears.--I did not believe her to be + indifferent because I wished it;--I believed it on impartial + conviction, as truly as I wished it in reason.--My objections to + the marriage were not merely those, which I last night acknowledged + to have required the utmost force of passion to put aside, in my + own case; the want of connection could not be so great an evil to + my friend as to me.--But there were other causes of + repugnance;--causes which, though still existing, and existing to + an equal degree in both instances, I had myself endeavoured to + forget, because they were not immediately before me.--These causes + must be stated, though briefly.--The situation of your mother's + family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison of that + total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed + by herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by + your father.--Pardon me.--It pains me to offend you. But amidst + your concern for the defects of your nearest relations, and your + displeasure at this representation of them, let it give you + consolation to consider that, to have conducted yourselves so as to + avoid any share of the like censure, is praise no less generally + bestowed on you and your eldest sister, than it is honourable to + the sense and disposition of both.--I will only say farther, that + from what passed that evening, my opinion of all parties was + confirmed, and every inducement heightened, which could have led me + before, to preserve my friend from what I esteemed a most unhappy + connection.--He left Netherfield for London, on the day following, + as you, I am certain, remember, with the design of soon + returning.--The part which I acted, is now to be explained.--His + sisters' uneasiness had been equally excited with my own; our + coincidence of feeling was soon discovered; and, alike sensible + that no time was to be lost in detaching their brother, we shortly + resolved on joining him directly in London.--We accordingly + went--and there I readily engaged in the office of pointing out to + my friend, the certain evils of such a choice.--I described, and + enforced them earnestly.--But, however this remonstrance might have + staggered or delayed his determination, I do not suppose that it + would ultimately have prevented the marriage, had it not been + seconded by the assurance which I hesitated not in giving, of your + sister's indifference. He had before believed her to return his + affection with sincere, if not with equal regard.--But Bingley has + great natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my judgment + than on his own.--To convince him, therefore, that he had deceived + himself, was no very difficult point. To persuade him against + returning into Hertfordshire, when that conviction had been given, + was scarcely the work of a moment.--I cannot blame myself for + having done thus much. There is but one part of my conduct in the + whole affair, on which I do not reflect with satisfaction; it is + that I condescended to adopt the measures of art so far as to + conceal from him your sister's being in town. I knew it myself, as + it was known to Miss Bingley, but her brother is even yet ignorant + of it.--That they might have met without ill consequence, is + perhaps probable;--but his regard did not appear to me enough + extinguished for him to see her without some danger.--Perhaps this + concealment, this disguise, was beneath me.--It is done, however, + and it was done for the best.--On this subject I have nothing more + to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your sister's + feelings, it was unknowingly done; and though the motives which + governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have + not yet learnt to condemn them.--With respect to that other, more + weighty accusation, of having injured Mr. Wickham, I can only + refute it by laying before you the whole of his connection with my + family. Of what he has _particularly_ accused me I am ignorant; but + of the truth of what I shall relate, I can summon more than one + witness of undoubted veracity. Mr. Wickham is the son of a very + respectable man, who had for many years the management of all the + Pemberley estates; and whose good conduct in the discharge of his + trust, naturally inclined my father to be of service to him, and on + George Wickham, who was his god-son, his kindness was therefore + liberally bestowed. My father supported him at school, and + afterwards at Cambridge;--most important assistance, as his own + father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have + been unable to give him a gentleman's education. My father was not + only fond of this young man's society, whose manners were always + engaging; he had also the highest opinion of him, and hoping the + church would be his profession, intended to provide for him in it. + As for myself, it is many, many years since I first began to think + of him in a very different manner. The vicious propensities--the + want of principle which he was careful to guard from the knowledge + of his best friend, could not escape the observation of a young man + of nearly the same age with himself, and who had opportunities of + seeing him in unguarded moments, which Mr. Darcy could not have. + Here again I shall give you pain--to what degree you only can tell. + But whatever may be the sentiments which Mr. Wickham has created, a + suspicion of their nature shall not prevent me from unfolding his + real character. It adds even another motive. My excellent father + died about five years ago; and his attachment to Mr. Wickham was to + the last so steady, that in his will he particularly recommended it + to me, to promote his advancement in the best manner that his + profession might allow, and if he took orders, desired that a + valuable family living might be his as soon as soon as it became + vacant. There was also a legacy of one thousand pounds. His own + father did not long survive mine, and within half a year from these + events, Mr. Wickham wrote to inform me that, having finally + resolved against taking orders, he hoped I should not think it + unreasonable for him to expect some more immediate pecuniary + advantage, in lieu of the preferment, by which he could not be + benefited. He had some intention, he added, of studying the law, + and I must be aware that the interest of one thousand pounds would + be a very insufficient support therein. I rather wished, than + believed him to be sincere; but at any rate, was perfectly ready to + accede to his proposal. I knew that Mr. Wickham ought not to be a + clergyman. The business was therefore soon settled. He resigned all + claim to assistance in the church, were it possible that he could + ever be in a situation to receive it, and accepted in return three + thousand pounds. All connection between us seemed now dissolved. I + thought too ill of him, to invite him to Pemberley, or admit his + society in town. In town I believe he chiefly lived, but his + studying the law was a mere pretence, and being now free from all + restraint, his life was a life of idleness and dissipation. For + about three years I heard little of him; but on the decease of the + incumbent of the living which had been designed for him, he applied + to me again by letter for the presentation. His circumstances, he + assured me, and I had no difficulty in believing it, were + exceedingly bad. He had found the law a most unprofitable study, + and was now absolutely resolved on being ordained, if I would + present him to the living in question--of which he trusted there + could be little doubt, as he was well assured that I had no other + person to provide for, and I could not have forgotten my revered + father's intentions. You will hardly blame me for refusing to + comply with this entreaty, or for resisting every repetition of it. + His resentment was in proportion to the distress of his + circumstances--and he was doubtless as violent in his abuse of me + to others, as in his reproaches to myself. After this period, every + appearance of acquaintance was dropt. How he lived I know not. But + last summer he was again most painfully obtruded on my notice. I + must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget + myself, and which no obligation less than the present should induce + me to unfold to any human being. Having said thus much, I feel no + doubt of your secrecy. My sister, who is more than ten years my + junior, was left to the guardianship of my mother's nephew, Colonel + Fitzwilliam, and myself. About a year ago, she was taken from + school, and an establishment formed for her in London; and last + summer she went with the lady who presided over it, to Ramsgate; + and thither also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by design; for there + proved to have been a prior acquaintance between him and Mrs. + Younge, in whose character we were most unhappily deceived; and by + her connivance and aid, he so far recommended himself to Georgiana, + whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his + kindness to her as a child, that she was persuaded to believe + herself in love, and to consent to an elopement. She was then but + fifteen, which must be her excuse; and after stating her + imprudence, I am happy to add, that I owed the knowledge of it to + herself. I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the + intended elopement, and then Georgiana, unable to support the idea + of grieving and offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as + a father, acknowledged the whole to me. You may imagine what I felt + and how I acted. Regard for my sister's credit and feelings + prevented any public exposure, but I wrote to Mr. Wickham, who left + the place immediately, and Mrs. Younge was of course removed from + her charge. Mr. Wickham's chief object was unquestionably my + sister's fortune, which is thirty thousand pounds; but I cannot + help supposing that the hope of revenging himself on me, was a + strong inducement. His revenge would have been complete indeed. + This, madam, is a faithful narrative of every event in which we + have been concerned together; and if you do not absolutely reject + it as false, you will, I hope, acquit me henceforth of cruelty + towards Mr. Wickham. I know not in what manner, under what form of + falsehood he has imposed on you; but his success is not perhaps to + be wondered at. Ignorant as you previously were of every thing + concerning either, detection could not be in your power, and + suspicion certainly not in your inclination. You may possibly + wonder why all this was not told you last night. But I was not then + master enough of myself to know what could or ought to be revealed. + For the truth of every thing here related, I can appeal more + particularly to the testimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who from our + near relationship and constant intimacy, and still more as one of + the executors of my father's will, has been unavoidably acquainted + with every particular of these transactions. If your abhorrence of + _me_ should make _my_ assertions valueless, you cannot be prevented + by the same cause from confiding in my cousin; and that there may + be the possibility of consulting him, I shall endeavour to find + some opportunity of putting this letter in your hands in the course + of the morning. I will only add, God bless you. + + "FITZWILLIAM DARCY." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +If Elizabeth, when Mr. Darcy gave her the letter, did not expect it to +contain a renewal of his offers, she had formed no expectation at all of +its contents. But such as they were, it may be well supposed how eagerly +she went through them, and what a contrariety of emotion they excited. +Her feelings as she read were scarcely to be defined. With amazement did +she first understand that he believed any apology to be in his power; +and steadfastly was she persuaded that he could have no explanation to +give, which a just sense of shame would not conceal. With a strong +prejudice against every thing he might say, she began his account of +what had happened at Netherfield. She read, with an eagerness which +hardly left her power of comprehension, and from impatience of knowing +what the next sentence might bring, was incapable of attending to the +sense of the one before her eyes. His belief of her sister's +insensibility, she instantly resolved to be false, and his account of +the real, the worst objections to the match, made her too angry to have +any wish of doing him justice. He expressed no regret for what he had +done which satisfied her; his style was not penitent, but haughty. It +was all pride and insolence. + +But when this subject was succeeded by his account of Mr. Wickham, when +she read with somewhat clearer attention, a relation of events, which, +if true, must overthrow every cherished opinion of his worth, and which +bore so alarming an affinity to his own history of himself, her feelings +were yet more acutely painful and more difficult of definition. +Astonishment, apprehension, and even horror, oppressed her. She wished +to discredit it entirely, repeatedly exclaiming, "This must be false! +This cannot be! This must be the grossest falsehood!"--and when she had +gone through the whole letter, though scarcely knowing any thing of the +last page or two, put it hastily away, protesting that she would not +regard it, that she would never look in it again. + +In this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts that could rest on +nothing, she walked on; but it would not do; in half a minute the letter +was unfolded again, and collecting herself as well as she could, she +again began the mortifying perusal of all that related to Wickham, and +commanded herself so far as to examine the meaning of every sentence. +The account of his connection with the Pemberley family, was exactly +what he had related himself; and the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy, +though she had not before known its extent, agreed equally well with his +own words. So far each recital confirmed the other: but when she came to +the will, the difference was great. What Wickham had said of the living +was fresh in her memory, and as she recalled his very words, it was +impossible not to feel that there was gross duplicity on one side or the +other; and, for a few moments, she flattered herself that her wishes did +not err. But when she read, and re-read with the closest attention, the +particulars immediately following of Wickham's resigning all pretensions +to the living, of his receiving in lieu, so considerable a sum as three +thousand pounds, again was she forced to hesitate. She put down the +letter, weighed every circumstance with what she meant to be +impartiality--deliberated on the probability of each statement--but with +little success. On both sides it was only assertion. Again she read on. +But every line proved more clearly that the affair, which she had +believed it impossible that any contrivance could so represent, as to +render Mr. Darcy's conduct in it less than infamous, was capable of a +turn which must make him entirely blameless throughout the whole. + +The extravagance and general profligacy which he scrupled not to lay to +Mr. Wickham's charge, exceedingly shocked her; the more so, as she could +bring no proof of its injustice. She had never heard of him before his +entrance into the ----shire Militia, in which he had engaged at the +persuasion of the young man, who, on meeting him accidentally in town, +had there renewed a slight acquaintance. Of his former way of life, +nothing had been known in Hertfordshire but what he told himself. As to +his real character, had information been in her power, she had never +felt a wish of enquiring. His countenance, voice, and manner, had +established him at once in the possession of every virtue. She tried to +recollect some instance of goodness, some distinguished trait of +integrity or benevolence, that might rescue him from the attacks of Mr. +Darcy; or at least, by the predominance of virtue, atone for those +casual errors, under which she would endeavour to class, what Mr. Darcy +had described as the idleness and vice of many years continuance. But no +such recollection befriended her. She could see him instantly before +her, in every charm of air and address; but she could remember no more +substantial good than the general approbation of the neighbourhood, and +the regard which his social powers had gained him in the mess. After +pausing on this point a considerable while, she once more continued to +read. But, alas! the story which followed of his designs on Miss Darcy, +received some confirmation from what had passed between Colonel +Fitzwilliam and herself only the morning before; and at last she was +referred for the truth of every particular to Colonel Fitzwilliam +himself--from whom she had previously received the information of his +near concern in all his cousin's affairs, and whose character she had no +reason to question. At one time she had almost resolved on applying to +him, but the idea was checked by the awkwardness of the application, and +at length wholly banished by the conviction that Mr. Darcy would never +have hazarded such a proposal, if he had not been well assured of his +cousin's corroboration. + +She perfectly remembered every thing that had passed in conversation +between Wickham and herself, in their first evening at Mr. Philips's. +Many of his expressions were still fresh in her memory. She was _now_ +struck with the impropriety of such communications to a stranger, and +wondered it had escaped her before. She saw the indelicacy of putting +himself forward as he had done, and the inconsistency of his professions +with his conduct. She remembered that he had boasted of having no fear +of seeing Mr. Darcy--that Mr. Darcy might leave the country, but that +_he_ should stand his ground; yet he had avoided the Netherfield ball +the very next week. She remembered also, that till the Netherfield +family had quitted the country, he had told his story to no one but +herself; but that after their removal, it had been every where +discussed; that he had then no reserves, no scruples in sinking Mr. +Darcy's character, though he had assured her that respect for the +father, would always prevent his exposing the son. + +How differently did every thing now appear in which he was concerned! +His attentions to Miss King were now the consequence of views solely and +hatefully mercenary; and the mediocrity of her fortune proved no longer +the moderation of his wishes, but his eagerness to grasp at any thing. +His behaviour to herself could now have had no tolerable motive; he had +either been deceived with regard to her fortune, or had been gratifying +his vanity by encouraging the preference which she believed she had most +incautiously shewn. Every lingering struggle in his favour grew fainter +and fainter; and in farther justification of Mr. Darcy, she could not +but allow that Mr. Bingley, when questioned by Jane, had long ago +asserted his blamelessness in the affair; that proud and repulsive as +were his manners, she had never, in the whole course of their +acquaintance, an acquaintance which had latterly brought them much +together, and given her a sort of intimacy with his ways, seen any thing +that betrayed him to be unprincipled or unjust--any thing that spoke him +of irreligious or immoral habits. That among his own connections he was +esteemed and valued--that even Wickham had allowed him merit as a +brother, and that she had often heard him speak so affectionately of +his sister as to prove him capable of _some_ amiable feeling. That had +his actions been what Wickham represented them, so gross a violation of +every thing right could hardly have been concealed from the world; and +that friendship between a person capable of it, and such an amiable man +as Mr. Bingley, was incomprehensible. + +She grew absolutely ashamed of herself.--Of neither Darcy nor Wickham +could she think, without feeling that she had been blind, partial, +prejudiced, absurd. + +"How despicably have I acted!" she cried.--"I, who have prided myself on +my discernment!--I, who have valued myself on my abilities! who have +often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified my +vanity, in useless or blameable distrust.--How humiliating is this +discovery!--Yet, how just a humiliation!--Had I been in love, I could +not have been more wretchedly blind. But vanity, not love, has been my +folly.--Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect +of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted +prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were +concerned. Till this moment, I never knew myself." + +From herself to Jane--from Jane to Bingley, her thoughts were in a line +which soon brought to her recollection that Mr. Darcy's explanation +_there_, had appeared very insufficient; and she read it again. Widely +different was the effect of a second perusal.--How could she deny that +credit to his assertions, in one instance, which she had been obliged to +give in the other?--He declared himself to have been totally +unsuspicious of her sister's attachment;--and she could not help +remembering what Charlotte's opinion had always been.--Neither could she +deny the justice of his description of Jane.--She felt that Jane's +feelings, though fervent, were little displayed, and that there was a +constant complacency in her air and manner, not often united with great +sensibility. + +When she came to that part of the letter in which her family were +mentioned, in terms of such mortifying, yet merited reproach, her sense +of shame was severe. The justice of the charge struck her too forcibly +for denial, and the circumstances to which he particularly alluded, as +having passed at the Netherfield ball, and as confirming all his first +disapprobation, could not have made a stronger impression on his mind +than on hers. + +The compliment to herself and her sister, was not unfelt. It soothed, +but it could not console her for the contempt which had been thus +self-attracted by the rest of her family;--and as she considered that +Jane's disappointment had in fact been the work of her nearest +relations, and reflected how materially the credit of both must be hurt +by such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed beyond any thing she +had ever known before. + +After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way to every +variety of thought; re-considering events, determining probabilities, +and reconciling herself as well as she could, to a change so sudden and +so important, fatigue, and a recollection of her long absence, made her +at length return home; and she entered the house with the wish of +appearing cheerful as usual, and the resolution of repressing such +reflections as must make her unfit for conversation. + +She was immediately told, that the two gentlemen from Rosings had each +called during her absence; Mr. Darcy, only for a few minutes to take +leave, but that Colonel Fitzwilliam had been sitting with them at least +an hour, hoping for her return, and almost resolving to walk after her +till she could be found.--Elizabeth could but just _affect_ concern in +missing him; she really rejoiced at it. Colonel Fitzwilliam was no +longer an object. She could think only of her letter. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +The two gentlemen left Rosings the next morning; and Mr. Collins having +been in waiting near the lodges, to make them his parting obeisance, was +able to bring home the pleasing intelligence, of their appearing in very +good health, and in as tolerable spirits as could be expected, after the +melancholy scene so lately gone through at Rosings. To Rosings he then +hastened to console Lady Catherine, and her daughter; and on his return, +brought back, with great satisfaction, a message from her Ladyship, +importing that she felt herself so dull as to make her very desirous of +having them all to dine with her. + +Elizabeth could not see Lady Catherine without recollecting, that had +she chosen it, she might by this time have been presented to her, as her +future niece; nor could she think, without a smile, of what her +ladyship's indignation would have been. "What would she have said?--how +would she have behaved?" were questions with which she amused herself. + +Their first subject was the diminution of the Rosings party.--"I assure +you, I feel it exceedingly," said Lady Catherine; "I believe nobody +feels the loss of friends so much as I do. But I am particularly +attached to these young men; and know them to be so much attached to +me!--They were excessively sorry to go! But so they always are. The dear +colonel rallied his spirits tolerably till just at last; but Darcy +seemed to feel it most acutely, more I think than last year. His +attachment to Rosings, certainly increases." + +Mr. Collins had a compliment, and an allusion to throw in here, which +were kindly smiled on by the mother and daughter. + +Lady Catherine observed, after dinner, that Miss Bennet seemed out of +spirits, and immediately accounting for it herself, by supposing that +she did not like to go home again so soon, she added, + +"But if that is the case, you must write to your mother to beg that you +may stay a little longer. Mrs. Collins will be very glad of your +company, I am sure." + +"I am much obliged to your ladyship for your kind invitation," replied +Elizabeth, "but it is not in my power to accept it.--I must be in town +next Saturday." + +"Why, at that rate, you will have been here only six weeks. I expected +you to stay two months. I told Mrs. Collins so before you came. There +can be no occasion for your going so soon. Mrs. Bennet could certainly +spare you for another fortnight." + +"But my father cannot.--He wrote last week to hurry my return." + +"Oh! your father of course may spare you, if your mother can.--Daughters +are never of so much consequence to a father. And if you will stay +another _month_ complete, it will be in my power to take one of you as +far as London, for I am going there early in June, for a week; and as +Dawson does not object to the Barouche box, there will be very good room +for one of you--and indeed, if the weather should happen to be cool, I +should not object to taking you both, as you are neither of you large." + +"You are all kindness, Madam; but I believe we must abide by our +original plan." + +Lady Catherine seemed resigned. + +"Mrs. Collins, you must send a servant with them. You know I always +speak my mind, and I cannot bear the idea of two young women travelling +post by themselves. It is highly improper. You must contrive to send +somebody. I have the greatest dislike in the world to that sort of +thing.--Young women should always be properly guarded and attended, +according to their situation in life. When my niece Georgiana went to +Ramsgate last summer, I made a point of her having two men servants go +with her.--Miss Darcy, the daughter of Mr. Darcy, of Pemberley, and Lady +Anne, could not have appeared with propriety in a different manner.--I +am excessively attentive to all those things. You must send John with +the young ladies, Mrs. Collins. I am glad it occurred to me to mention +it; for it would really be discreditable to _you_ to let them go alone." + +"My uncle is to send a servant for us." + +"Oh!--Your uncle!--He keeps a man-servant, does he?--I am very glad you +have somebody who thinks of those things. Where shall you change +horses?--Oh! Bromley, of course.--If you mention my name at the Bell, +you will be attended to." + +Lady Catherine had many other questions to ask respecting their journey, +and as she did not answer them all herself, attention was necessary, +which Elizabeth believed to be lucky for her; or, with a mind so +occupied, she might have forgotten where she was. Reflection must be +reserved for solitary hours; whenever she was alone, she gave way to it +as the greatest relief; and not a day went by without a solitary walk, +in which she might indulge in all the delight of unpleasant +recollections. + +Mr. Darcy's letter, she was in a fair way of soon knowing by heart. She +studied every sentence: and her feelings towards its writer were at +times widely different. When she remembered the style of his address, +she was still full of indignation; but when she considered how unjustly +she had condemned and upbraided him, her anger was turned against +herself; and his disappointed feelings became the object of compassion. +His attachment excited gratitude, his general character respect; but she +could not approve him; nor could she for a moment repent her refusal, or +feel the slightest inclination ever to see him again. In her own past +behaviour, there was a constant source of vexation and regret; and in +the unhappy defects of her family a subject of yet heavier chagrin. +They were hopeless of remedy. Her father, contented with laughing at +them, would never exert himself to restrain the wild giddiness of his +youngest daughters; and her mother, with manners so far from right +herself, was entirely insensible of the evil. Elizabeth had frequently +united with Jane in an endeavour to check the imprudence of Catherine +and Lydia; but while they were supported by their mother's indulgence, +what chance could there be of improvement? Catherine, weak-spirited, +irritable, and completely under Lydia's guidance, had been always +affronted by their advice; and Lydia, self-willed and careless, would +scarcely give them a hearing. They were ignorant, idle, and vain. While +there was an officer in Meryton, they would flirt with him; and while +Meryton was within a walk of Longbourn, they would be going there for +ever. + +Anxiety on Jane's behalf, was another prevailing concern, and Mr. +Darcy's explanation, by restoring Bingley to all her former good +opinion, heightened the sense of what Jane had lost. His affection was +proved to have been sincere, and his conduct cleared of all blame, +unless any could attach to the implicitness of his confidence in his +friend. How grievous then was the thought that, of a situation so +desirable in every respect, so replete with advantage, so promising for +happiness, Jane had been deprived, by the folly and indecorum of her own +family! + +When to these recollections was added the developement of Wickham's +character, it may be easily believed that the happy spirits which had +seldom been depressed before, were now so much affected as to make it +almost impossible for her to appear tolerably cheerful. + +Their engagements at Rosings were as frequent during the last week of +her stay, as they had been at first. The very last evening was spent +there; and her Ladyship again enquired minutely into the particulars of +their journey, gave them directions as to the best method of packing, +and was so urgent on the necessity of placing gowns in the only right +way, that Maria thought herself obliged, on her return, to undo all the +work of the morning, and pack her trunk afresh. + +When they parted, Lady Catherine, with great condescension, wished them +a good journey, and invited them to come to Hunsford again next year; +and Miss De Bourgh exerted herself so far as to curtsey and hold out her +hand to both. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +On Saturday morning Elizabeth and Mr. Collins met for breakfast a few +minutes before the others appeared; and he took the opportunity of +paying the parting civilities which he deemed indispensably necessary. + +"I know not, Miss Elizabeth," said he, "whether Mrs. Collins has yet +expressed her sense of your kindness in coming to us, but I am very +certain you will not leave the house without receiving her thanks for +it. The favour of your company has been much felt, I assure you. We know +how little there is to tempt any one to our humble abode. Our plain +manner of living, our small rooms, and few domestics, and the little we +see of the world, must make Hunsford extremely dull to a young lady like +yourself; but I hope you will believe us grateful for the condescension, +and that we have done every thing in our power to prevent your spending +your time unpleasantly." + +Elizabeth was eager with her thanks and assurances of happiness. She had +spent six weeks with great enjoyment; and the pleasure of being with +Charlotte, and the kind attentions she had received, must make _her_ +feel the obliged. Mr. Collins was gratified; and with a more smiling +solemnity replied, + +"It gives me the greatest pleasure to hear that you have passed your +time not disagreeably. We have certainly done our best; and most +fortunately having it in our power to introduce you to very superior +society, and from our connection with Rosings, the frequent means of +varying the humble home scene, I think we may flatter ourselves that +your Hunsford visit cannot have been entirely irksome. Our situation +with regard to Lady Catherine's family is indeed the sort of +extraordinary advantage and blessing which few can boast. You see on +what a footing we are. You see how continually we are engaged there. In +truth I must acknowledge that, with all the disadvantages of this humble +parsonage, I should not think any one abiding in it an object of +compassion, while they are sharers of our intimacy at Rosings." + +Words were insufficient for the elevation of his feelings; and he was +obliged to walk about the room, while Elizabeth tried to unite civility +and truth in a few short sentences. + +"You may, in fact, carry a very favourable report of us into +Hertfordshire, my dear cousin. I flatter myself at least that you will +be able to do so. Lady Catherine's great attentions to Mrs. Collins you +have been a daily witness of; and altogether I trust it does not appear +that your friend has drawn an unfortunate--but on this point it will be +as well to be silent. Only let me assure you, my dear Miss Elizabeth, +that I can from my heart most cordially wish you equal felicity in +marriage. My dear Charlotte and I have but one mind and one way of +thinking. There is in every thing a most remarkable resemblance of +character and ideas between us. We seem to have been designed for each +other." + +Elizabeth could safely say that it was a great happiness where that was +the case, and with equal sincerity could add that she firmly believed +and rejoiced in his domestic comforts. She was not sorry, however, to +have the recital of them interrupted by the entrance of the lady from +whom they sprung. Poor Charlotte!--it was melancholy to leave her to +such society!--But she had chosen it with her eyes open; and though +evidently regretting that her visitors were to go, she did not seem to +ask for compassion. Her home and her housekeeping, her parish and her +poultry, and all their dependent concerns, had not yet lost their +charms. + +At length the chaise arrived, the trunks were fastened on, the parcels +placed within, and it was pronounced to be ready. After an affectionate +parting between the friends, Elizabeth was attended to the carriage by +Mr. Collins, and as they walked down the garden, he was commissioning +her with his best respects to all her family, not forgetting his thanks +for the kindness he had received at Longbourn in the winter, and his +compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, though unknown. He then handed her +in, Maria followed, and the door was on the point of being closed, when +he suddenly reminded them, with some consternation, that they had +hitherto forgotten to leave any message for the ladies of Rosings. + +"But," he added, "you will of course wish to have your humble respects +delivered to them, with your grateful thanks for their kindness to you +while you have been here." + +Elizabeth made no objection;--the door was then allowed to be shut, and +the carriage drove off. + +"Good gracious!" cried Maria, after a few minutes silence, "it seems but +a day or two since we first came!--and yet how many things have +happened!" + +"A great many indeed," said her companion with a sigh. + +"We have dined nine times at Rosings, besides drinking tea there +twice!--How much I shall have to tell!" + +Elizabeth privately added, "And how much I shall have to conceal." + +Their journey was performed without much conversation, or any alarm; and +within four hours of their leaving Hunsford, they reached Mr. Gardiner's +house, where they were to remain a few days. + +Jane looked well, and Elizabeth had little opportunity of studying her +spirits, amidst the various engagements which the kindness of her aunt +had reserved for them. But Jane was to go home with her, and at +Longbourn there would be leisure enough for observation. + +It was not without an effort meanwhile that she could wait even for +Longbourn, before she told her sister of Mr. Darcy's proposals. To know +that she had the power of revealing what would so exceedingly astonish +Jane, and must, at the same time, so highly gratify whatever of her own +vanity she had not yet been able to reason away, was such a temptation +to openness as nothing could have conquered, but the state of indecision +in which she remained, as to the extent of what she should communicate; +and her fear, if she once entered on the subject, of being hurried into +repeating something of Bingley, which might only grieve her sister +farther. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +It was the second week in May, in which the three young ladies set out +together from Gracechurch-street, for the town of ---- in Hertfordshire; +and, as they drew near the appointed inn where Mr. Bennet's carriage was +to meet them, they quickly perceived, in token of the coachman's +punctuality, both Kitty and Lydia looking out of a dining-room up +stairs. These two girls had been above an hour in the place, happily +employed in visiting an opposite milliner, watching the sentinel on +guard, and dressing a sallad and cucumber. + +After welcoming their sisters, they triumphantly displayed a table set +out with such cold meat as an inn larder usually affords, exclaiming, +"Is not this nice? is not this an agreeable surprise?" + +"And we mean to treat you all," added Lydia; "but you must lend us the +money, for we have just spent ours at the shop out there." Then shewing +her purchases: "Look here, I have bought this bonnet. I do not think it +is very pretty; but I thought I might as well buy it as not. I shall +pull it to pieces as soon as I get home, and see if I can make it up any +better." + +And when her sisters abused it as ugly, she added, with perfect +unconcern, "Oh! but there were two or three much uglier in the shop; and +when I have bought some prettier-coloured satin to trim it with fresh, I +think it will be very tolerable. Besides, it will not much signify what +one wears this summer, after the ----shire have left Meryton, and they +are going in a fortnight." + +"Are they indeed?" cried Elizabeth, with the greatest satisfaction. + +"They are going to be encamped near Brighton; and I do so want papa to +take us all there for the summer! It would be such a delicious scheme, +and I dare say would hardly cost any thing at all. Mamma would like to +go too of all things! Only think what a miserable summer else we shall +have!" + +"Yes," thought Elizabeth, "_that_ would be a delightful scheme, indeed, +and completely do for us at once. Good Heaven! Brighton, and a whole +campful of soldiers, to us, who have been overset already by one poor +regiment of militia, and the monthly balls of Meryton." + +"Now I have got some news for you," said Lydia, as they sat down to +table. "What do you think? It is excellent news, capital news, and about +a certain person that we all like." + +Jane and Elizabeth looked at each other, and the waiter was told that he +need not stay. Lydia laughed, and said, + +"Aye, that is just like your formality and discretion. You thought the +waiter must not hear, as if he cared! I dare say he often hears worse +things said than I am going to say. But he is an ugly fellow! I am glad +he is gone. I never saw such a long chin in my life. Well, but now for +my news: it is about dear Wickham; too good for the waiter, is not it? +There is no danger of Wickham's marrying Mary King. There's for you! She +is gone down to her uncle at Liverpool; gone to stay. Wickham is safe." + +"And Mary King is safe!" added Elizabeth; "safe from a connection +imprudent as to fortune." + +"She is a great fool for going away, if she liked him." + +"But I hope there is no strong attachment on either side," said Jane. + +"I am sure there is not on _his_. I will answer for it he never cared +three straws about her. Who _could_ about such a nasty little freckled +thing?" + +Elizabeth was shocked to think that, however incapable of such +coarseness of _expression_ herself, the coarseness of the _sentiment_ +was little other than her own breast had formerly harboured and fancied +liberal! + +As soon as all had ate, and the elder ones paid, the carriage was +ordered; and after some contrivance, the whole party, with all their +boxes, workbags, and parcels, and the unwelcome addition of Kitty's and +Lydia's purchases, were seated in it. + +"How nicely we are crammed in!" cried Lydia. "I am glad I bought my +bonnet, if it is only for the fun of having another bandbox! Well, now +let us be quite comfortable and snug, and talk and laugh all the way +home. And in the first place, let us hear what has happened to you all, +since you went away. Have you seen any pleasant men? Have you had any +flirting? I was in great hopes that one of you would have got a husband +before you came back. Jane will be quite an old maid soon, I declare. +She is almost three and twenty! Lord, how ashamed I should be of not +being married before three and twenty! My aunt Philips wants you so to +get husbands, you can't think. She says Lizzy had better have taken Mr. +Collins; but _I_ do not think there would have been any fun in it. Lord! +how I should like to be married before any of you; and then I would +chaperon you about to all the balls. Dear me! we had such a good piece +of fun the other day at Colonel Forster's. Kitty and me were to spend +the day there, and Mrs. Forster promised to have a little dance in the +evening; (by the bye, Mrs. Forster and me are _such_ friends!) and so +she asked the two Harringtons to come, but Harriet was ill, and so Pen +was forced to come by herself; and then, what do you think we did? We +dressed up Chamberlayne in woman's clothes, on purpose to pass for a +lady,--only think what fun! Not a soul knew of it, but Col. and Mrs. +Forster, and Kitty and me, except my aunt, for we were forced to borrow +one of her gowns; and you cannot imagine how well he looked! When Denny, +and Wickham, and Pratt, and two or three more of the men came in, they +did not know him in the least. Lord! how I laughed! and so did Mrs. +Forster. I thought I should have died. And _that_ made the men suspect +something, and then they soon found out what was the matter." + +With such kind of histories of their parties and good jokes, did Lydia, +assisted by Kitty's hints and additions, endeavour to amuse her +companions all the way to Longbourn. Elizabeth listened as little as she +could, but there was no escaping the frequent mention of Wickham's name. + +Their reception at home was most kind. Mrs. Bennet rejoiced to see Jane +in undiminished beauty; and more than once during dinner did Mr. Bennet +say voluntarily to Elizabeth, + +"I am glad you are come back, Lizzy." + +Their party in the dining-room was large, for almost all the Lucases +came to meet Maria and hear the news: and various were the subjects +which occupied them; lady Lucas was enquiring of Maria across the table, +after the welfare and poultry of her eldest daughter; Mrs. Bennet was +doubly engaged, on one hand collecting an account of the present +fashions from Jane, who sat some way below her, and on the other, +retailing them all to the younger Miss Lucases; and Lydia, in a voice +rather louder than any other person's, was enumerating the various +pleasures of the morning to any body who would hear her. + +"Oh! Mary," said she, "I wish you had gone with us, for we had such fun! +as we went along, Kitty and me drew up all the blinds, and pretended +there was nobody in the coach; and I should have gone so all the way, if +Kitty had not been sick; and when we got to the George, I do think we +behaved very handsomely, for we treated the other three with the nicest +cold luncheon in the world, and if you would have gone, we would have +treated you too. And then when we came away it was such fun! I thought +we never should have got into the coach. I was ready to die of laughter. +And then we were so merry all the way home! we talked and laughed so +loud, that any body might have heard us ten miles off!" + +To this, Mary very gravely replied, "Far be it from me, my dear sister, +to depreciate such pleasures. They would doubtless be congenial with +the generality of female minds. But I confess they would have no charms +for _me_. I should infinitely prefer a book." + +But of this answer Lydia heard not a word. She seldom listened to any +body for more than half a minute, and never attended to Mary at all. + +In the afternoon Lydia was urgent with the rest of the girls to walk to +Meryton and see how every body went on; but Elizabeth steadily opposed +the scheme. It should not be said, that the Miss Bennets could not be at +home half a day before they were in pursuit of the officers. There was +another reason too for her opposition. She dreaded seeing Wickham again, +and was resolved to avoid it as long as possible. The comfort to _her_, +of the regiment's approaching removal, was indeed beyond expression. In +a fortnight they were to go, and once gone, she hoped there could be +nothing more to plague her on his account. + +She had not been many hours at home, before she found that the Brighton +scheme, of which Lydia had given them a hint at the inn, was under +frequent discussion between her parents. Elizabeth saw directly that her +father had not the smallest intention of yielding; but his answers were +at the same time so vague and equivocal, that her mother, though often +disheartened, had never yet despaired of succeeding at last. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Elizabeth's impatience to acquaint Jane with what had happened could no +longer be overcome; and at length resolving to suppress every particular +in which her sister was concerned, and preparing her to be surprised, +she related to her the next morning the chief of the scene between Mr. +Darcy and herself. + +Miss Bennet's astonishment was soon lessened by the strong sisterly +partiality which made any admiration of Elizabeth appear perfectly +natural; and all surprise was shortly lost in other feelings. She was +sorry that Mr. Darcy should have delivered his sentiments in a manner so +little suited to recommend them; but still more was she grieved for the +unhappiness which her sister's refusal must have given him. + +"His being so sure of succeeding, was wrong," said she; "and certainly +ought not to have appeared; but consider how much it must increase his +disappointment." + +"Indeed," replied Elizabeth, "I am heartily sorry for him; but he has +other feelings which will probably soon drive away his regard for me. +You do not blame me, however, for refusing him?" + +"Blame you! Oh, no." + +"But you blame me for having spoken so warmly of Wickham." + +"No--I do not know that you were wrong in saying what you did." + +"But you _will_ know it, when I have told you what happened the very +next day." + +She then spoke of the letter, repeating the whole of its contents as far +as they concerned George Wickham. What a stroke was this for poor Jane! +who would willingly have gone through the world without believing that +so much wickedness existed in the whole race of mankind, as was here +collected in one individual. Nor was Darcy's vindication, though +grateful to her feelings, capable of consoling her for such discovery. +Most earnestly did she labour to prove the probability of error, and +seek to clear one, without involving the other. + +"This will not do," said Elizabeth. "You never will be able to make both +of them good for any thing. Take your choice, but you must be satisfied +with only one. There is but such a quantity of merit between them; just +enough to make one good sort of man; and of late it has been shifting +about pretty much. For my part, I am inclined to believe it all Mr. +Darcy's, but you shall do as you chuse." + +It was some time, however, before a smile could be extorted from Jane. + +"I do not know when I have been more shocked," said she. "Wickham so +very bad! It is almost past belief. And poor Mr. Darcy! dear Lizzy, only +consider what he must have suffered. Such a disappointment! and with the +knowledge of your ill opinion too! and having to relate such a thing of +his sister! It is really too distressing. I am sure you must feel it +so." + +"Oh! no, my regret and compassion are all done away by seeing you so +full of both. I know you will do him such ample justice, that I am +growing every moment more unconcerned and indifferent. Your profusion +makes me saving; and if you lament over him much longer, my heart will +be as light as a feather." + +"Poor Wickham; there is such an expression of goodness in his +countenance! such an openness and gentleness in his manner." + +"There certainly was some great mismanagement in the education of those +two young men. One has got all the goodness, and the other all the +appearance of it." + +"I never thought Mr. Darcy so deficient in the _appearance_ of it as you +used to do." + +"And yet I meant to be uncommonly clever in taking so decided a dislike +to him, without any reason. It is such a spur to one's genius, such an +opening for wit to have a dislike of that kind. One may be continually +abusive without saying any thing just; but one cannot be always laughing +at a man without now and then stumbling on something witty." + +"Lizzy, when you first read that letter, I am sure you could not treat +the matter as you do now." + +"Indeed I could not. I was uncomfortable enough. I was very +uncomfortable, I may say unhappy. And with no one to speak to, of what I +felt, no Jane to comfort me and say that I had not been so very weak and +vain and nonsensical as I knew I had! Oh! how I wanted you!" + +"How unfortunate that you should have used such very strong expressions +in speaking of Wickham to Mr. Darcy, for now they _do_ appear wholly +undeserved." + +"Certainly. But the misfortune of speaking with bitterness, is a most +natural consequence of the prejudices I had been encouraging. There is +one point, on which I want your advice. I want to be told whether I +ought, or ought not to make our acquaintance in general understand +Wickham's character." + +Miss Bennet paused a little and then replied, "Surely there can be no +occasion for exposing him so dreadfully. What is your own opinion?" + +"That it ought not to be attempted. Mr. Darcy has not authorised me to +make his communication public. On the contrary every particular relative +to his sister, was meant to be kept as much as possible to myself; and +if I endeavour to undeceive people as to the rest of his conduct, who +will believe me? The general prejudice against Mr. Darcy is so violent, +that it would be the death of half the good people in Meryton, to +attempt to place him in an amiable light. I am not equal to it. Wickham +will soon be gone; and therefore it will not signify to anybody here, +what he really is. Sometime hence it will be all found out, and then we +may laugh at their stupidity in not knowing it before. At present I will +say nothing about it." + +"You are quite right. To have his errors made public might ruin him for +ever. He is now perhaps sorry for what he has done, and anxious to +re-establish a character. We must not make him desperate." + +The tumult of Elizabeth's mind was allayed by this conversation. She had +got rid of two of the secrets which had weighed on her for a fortnight, +and was certain of a willing listener in Jane, whenever she might wish +to talk again of either. But there was still something lurking behind, +of which prudence forbad the disclosure. She dared not relate the other +half of Mr. Darcy's letter, nor explain to her sister how sincerely she +had been valued by his friend. Here was knowledge in which no one could +partake; and she was sensible that nothing less than a perfect +understanding between the parties could justify her in throwing off this +last incumbrance of mystery. "And then," said she, "if that very +improbable event should ever take place, I shall merely be able to tell +what Bingley may tell in a much more agreeable manner himself. The +liberty of communication cannot be mine till it has lost all its value!" + +She was now, on being settled at home, at leisure to observe the real +state of her sister's spirits. Jane was not happy. She still cherished a +very tender affection for Bingley. Having never even fancied herself in +love before, her regard had all the warmth of first attachment, and from +her age and disposition, greater steadiness than first attachments often +boast; and so fervently did she value his remembrance, and prefer him to +every other man, that all her good sense, and all her attention to the +feelings of her friends, were requisite to check the indulgence of those +regrets, which must have been injurious to her own health and their +tranquillity. + +"Well, Lizzy," said Mrs. Bennet one day, "what is your opinion _now_ of +this sad business of Jane's? For my part, I am determined never to speak +of it again to anybody. I told my sister Philips so the other day. But I +cannot find out that Jane saw any thing of him in London. Well, he is a +very undeserving young man--and I do not suppose there is the least +chance in the world of her ever getting him now. There is no talk of his +coming to Netherfield again in the summer; and I have enquired of every +body too, who is likely to know." + +"I do not believe that he will ever live at Netherfield any more." + +"Oh, well! it is just as he chooses. Nobody wants him to come. Though I +shall always say that he used my daughter extremely ill; and if I was +her, I would not have put up with it. Well, my comfort is, I am sure +Jane will die of a broken heart, and then he will be sorry for what he +has done." + +But as Elizabeth could not receive comfort from any such expectation, +she made no answer. + +"Well, Lizzy," continued her mother soon afterwards, "and so the +Collinses live very comfortable, do they? Well, well, I only hope it +will last. And what sort of table do they keep? Charlotte is an +excellent manager, I dare say. If she is half as sharp as her mother, +she is saving enough. There is nothing extravagant in _their_ +housekeeping, I dare say." + +"No, nothing at all." + +"A great deal of good management, depend upon it. Yes, yes. _They_ will +take care not to outrun their income. _They_ will never be distressed +for money. Well, much good may it do them! And so, I suppose, they often +talk of having Longbourn when your father is dead. They look upon it +quite as their own, I dare say, whenever that happens." + +"It was a subject which they could not mention before me." + +"No. It would have been strange if they had. But I make no doubt, they +often talk of it between themselves. Well, if they can be easy with an +estate that is not lawfully their own, so much the better. _I_ should be +ashamed of having one that was only entailed on me." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +The first week of their return was soon gone. The second began. It was +the last of the regiment's stay in Meryton, and all the young ladies in +the neighbourhood were drooping apace. The dejection was almost +universal. The elder Miss Bennets alone were still able to eat, drink, +and sleep, and pursue the usual course of their employments. Very +frequently were they reproached for this insensibility by Kitty and +Lydia, whose own misery was extreme, and who could not comprehend such +hard-heartedness in any of the family. + +"Good Heaven! What is to become of us! What are we to do!" would they +often exclaim in the bitterness of woe. "How can you be smiling so, +Lizzy?" + +Their affectionate mother shared all their grief; she remembered what +she had herself endured on a similar occasion, five and twenty years +ago. + +"I am sure," said she, "I cried for two days together when Colonel +Millar's regiment went away. I thought I should have broke my heart." + +"I am sure I shall break _mine_," said Lydia. + +"If one could but go to Brighton!" observed Mrs. Bennet. + +"Oh, yes!--if one could but go to Brighton! But papa is so +disagreeable." + +"A little sea-bathing would set me up for ever." + +"And my aunt Philips is sure it would do _me_ a great deal of good," +added Kitty. + +Such were the kind of lamentations resounding perpetually through +Longbourn-house. Elizabeth tried to be diverted by them; but all sense +of pleasure was lost in shame. She felt anew the justice of Mr. Darcy's +objections; and never had she before been so much disposed to pardon his +interference in the views of his friend. + +But the gloom of Lydia's prospect was shortly cleared away; for she +received an invitation from Mrs. Forster, the wife of the Colonel of the +regiment, to accompany her to Brighton. This invaluable friend was a +very young woman, and very lately married. A resemblance in good humour +and good spirits had recommended her and Lydia to each other, and out of +their _three_ months' acquaintance they had been intimate _two_. + +The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, her adoration of Mrs. Forster, +the delight of Mrs. Bennet, and the mortification of Kitty, are scarcely +to be described. Wholly inattentive to her sister's feelings, Lydia flew +about the house in restless ecstacy, calling for every one's +congratulations, and laughing and talking with more violence than ever; +whilst the luckless Kitty continued in the parlour repining at her fate +in terms as unreasonable as her accent was peevish. + +"I cannot see why Mrs. Forster should not ask _me_ as well as Lydia," +said she, "though I am _not_ her particular friend. I have just as much +right to be asked as she has, and more too, for I am two years older." + +In vain did Elizabeth attempt to make her reasonable, and Jane to make +her resigned. As for Elizabeth herself, this invitation was so far from +exciting in her the same feelings as in her mother and Lydia, that she +considered it as the death-warrant of all possibility of common sense +for the latter; and detestable as such a step must make her were it +known, she could not help secretly advising her father not to let her +go. She represented to him all the improprieties of Lydia's general +behaviour, the little advantage she could derive from the friendship of +such a woman as Mrs. Forster, and the probability of her being yet more +imprudent with such a companion at Brighton, where the temptations must +be greater than at home. He heard her attentively, and then said, + +"Lydia will never be easy till she has exposed herself in some public +place or other, and we can never expect her to do it with so little +expense or inconvenience to her family as under the present +circumstances." + +"If you were aware," said Elizabeth, "of the very great disadvantage to +us all, which must arise from the public notice of Lydia's unguarded and +imprudent manner; nay, which has already arisen from it, I am sure you +would judge differently in the affair." + +"Already arisen!" repeated Mr. Bennet. "What, has she frightened away +some of your lovers? Poor little Lizzy! But do not be cast down. Such +squeamish youths as cannot bear to be connected with a little absurdity, +are not worth a regret. Come, let me see the list of the pitiful fellows +who have been kept aloof by Lydia's folly." + +"Indeed you are mistaken. I have no such injuries to resent. It is not +of peculiar, but of general evils, which I am now complaining. Our +importance, our respectability in the world, must be affected by the +wild volatility, the assurance and disdain of all restraint which mark +Lydia's character. Excuse me--for I must speak plainly. If you, my dear +father, will not take the trouble of checking her exuberant spirits, and +of teaching her that her present pursuits are not to be the business of +her life, she will soon be beyond the reach of amendment. Her character +will be fixed, and she will, at sixteen, be the most determined flirt +that ever made herself and her family ridiculous. A flirt too, in the +worst and meanest degree of flirtation; without any attraction beyond +youth and a tolerable person; and from the ignorance and emptiness of +her mind, wholly unable to ward off any portion of that universal +contempt which her rage for admiration will excite. In this danger Kitty +is also comprehended. She will follow wherever Lydia leads. Vain, +ignorant, idle, and absolutely uncontrouled! Oh! my dear father, can you +suppose it possible that they will not be censured and despised wherever +they are known, and that their sisters will not be often involved in the +disgrace?" + +Mr. Bennet saw that her whole heart was in the subject; and +affectionately taking her hand, said in reply, + +"Do not make yourself uneasy, my love. Wherever you and Jane are known, +you must be respected and valued; and you will not appear to less +advantage for having a couple of--or I may say, three very silly +sisters. We shall have no peace at Longbourn if Lydia does not go to +Brighton. Let her go then. Colonel Forster is a sensible man, and will +keep her out of any real mischief; and she is luckily too poor to be an +object of prey to any body. At Brighton she will be of less importance +even as a common flirt than she has been here. The officers will find +women better worth their notice. Let us hope, therefore, that her being +there may teach her her own insignificance. At any rate, she cannot grow +many degrees worse, without authorizing us to lock her up for the rest +of her life." + +With this answer Elizabeth was forced to be content; but her own opinion +continued the same, and she left him disappointed and sorry. It was not +in her nature, however, to increase her vexations, by dwelling on them. +She was confident of having performed her duty, and to fret over +unavoidable evils, or augment them by anxiety, was no part of her +disposition. + +Had Lydia and her mother known the substance of her conference with her +father, their indignation would hardly have found expression in their +united volubility. In Lydia's imagination, a visit to Brighton comprised +every possibility of earthly happiness. She saw with the creative eye of +fancy, the streets of that gay bathing place covered with officers. She +saw herself the object of attention, to tens and to scores of them at +present unknown. She saw all the glories of the camp; its tents +stretched forth in beauteous uniformity of lines, crowded with the young +and the gay, and dazzling with scarlet; and to complete the view, she +saw herself seated beneath a tent, tenderly flirting with at least six +officers at once. + +Had she known that her sister sought to tear her from such prospects and +such realities as these, what would have been her sensations? They could +have been understood only by her mother, who might have felt nearly the +same. Lydia's going to Brighton was all that consoled her for the +melancholy conviction of her husband's never intending to go there +himself. + +But they were entirely ignorant of what had passed; and their raptures +continued with little intermission to the very day of Lydia's leaving +home. + +Elizabeth was now to see Mr. Wickham for the last time. Having been +frequently in company with him since her return, agitation was pretty +well over; the agitations of former partiality entirely so. She had even +learnt to detect, in the very gentleness which had first delighted her, +an affectation and a sameness to disgust and weary. In his present +behaviour to herself, moreover, she had a fresh source of displeasure, +for the inclination he soon testified of renewing those attentions which +had marked the early part of their acquaintance, could only serve, after +what had since passed, to provoke her. She lost all concern for him in +finding herself thus selected as the object of such idle and frivolous +gallantry; and while she steadily repressed it, could not but feel the +reproof contained in his believing, that however long, and for whatever +cause, his attentions had been withdrawn, her vanity would be gratified +and her preference secured at any time by their renewal. + +On the very last day of the regiment's remaining in Meryton, he dined +with others of the officers at Longbourn; and so little was Elizabeth +disposed to part from him in good humour, that on his making some +enquiry as to the manner in which her time had passed at Hunsford, she +mentioned Colonel Fitzwilliam's and Mr. Darcy's having both spent three +weeks at Rosings, and asked him if he were acquainted with the former. + +He looked surprised, displeased, alarmed; but with a moment's +recollection and a returning smile, replied, that he had formerly seen +him often; and after observing that he was a very gentleman-like man, +asked her how she had liked him. Her answer was warmly in his favour. +With an air of indifference he soon afterwards added, "How long did you +say that he was at Rosings?" + +"Nearly three weeks." + +"And you saw him frequently?" + +"Yes, almost every day." + +"His manners are very different from his cousin's." + +"Yes, very different. But I think Mr. Darcy improves on acquaintance." + +"Indeed!" cried Wickham with a look which did not escape her. "And pray +may I ask?" but checking himself, he added in a gayer tone, "Is it in +address that he improves? Has he deigned to add ought of civility to his +ordinary style? for I dare not hope," he continued in a lower and more +serious tone, "that he is improved in essentials." + +"Oh, no!" said Elizabeth. "In essentials, I believe, he is very much +what he ever was." + +While she spoke, Wickham looked as if scarcely knowing whether to +rejoice over her words, or to distrust their meaning. There was a +something in her countenance which made him listen with an apprehensive +and anxious attention, while she added, + +"When I said that he improved on acquaintance, I did not mean that +either his mind or manners were in a state of improvement, but that from +knowing him better, his disposition was better understood." + +Wickham's alarm now appeared in a heightened complexion and agitated +look; for a few minutes he was silent; till, shaking off his +embarrassment, he turned to her again, and said in the gentlest of +accents, + +"You, who so well know my feelings towards Mr. Darcy, will readily +comprehend how sincerely I must rejoice that he is wise enough to assume +even the _appearance_ of what is right. His pride, in that direction, +may be of service, if not to himself, to many others, for it must deter +him from such foul misconduct as I have suffered by. I only fear that +the sort of cautiousness, to which you, I imagine, have been alluding, +is merely adopted on his visits to his aunt, of whose good opinion and +judgment he stands much in awe. His fear of her, has always operated, I +know, when they were together; and a good deal is to be imputed to his +wish of forwarding the match with Miss De Bourgh, which I am certain he +has very much at heart." + +Elizabeth could not repress a smile at this, but she answered only by a +slight inclination of the head. She saw that he wanted to engage her on +the old subject of his grievances, and she was in no humour to indulge +him. The rest of the evening passed with the _appearance_, on his side, +of usual cheerfulness, but with no farther attempt to distinguish +Elizabeth; and they parted at last with mutual civility, and possibly a +mutual desire of never meeting again. + +When the party broke up, Lydia returned with Mrs. Forster to Meryton, +from whence they were to set out early the next morning. The separation +between her and her family was rather noisy than pathetic. Kitty was the +only one who shed tears; but she did weep from vexation and envy. Mrs. +Bennet was diffuse in her good wishes for the felicity of her daughter, +and impressive in her injunctions that she would not miss the +opportunity of enjoying herself as much as possible; advice, which there +was every reason to believe would be attended to; and in the clamorous +happiness of Lydia herself in bidding farewell, the more gentle adieus +of her sisters were uttered without being heard. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +Had Elizabeth's opinion been all drawn from her own family, she could +not have formed a very pleasing picture of conjugal felicity or domestic +comfort. Her father captivated by youth and beauty, and that appearance +of good humour, which youth and beauty generally give, had married a +woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind, had very early in +their marriage put an end to all real affection for her. Respect, +esteem, and confidence, had vanished for ever; and all his views of +domestic happiness were overthrown. But Mr. Bennet was not of a +disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his own +imprudence had brought on, in any of those pleasures which too often +console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice. He was fond of +the country and of books; and from these tastes had arisen his principal +enjoyments. To his wife he was very little otherwise indebted, than as +her ignorance and folly had contributed to his amusement. This is not +the sort of happiness which a man would in general wish to owe to his +wife; but where other powers of entertainment are wanting, the true +philosopher will derive benefit from such as are given. + +Elizabeth, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of her +father's behaviour as a husband. She had always seen it with pain; but +respecting his abilities, and grateful for his affectionate treatment of +herself, she endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook, and to +banish from her thoughts that continual breach of conjugal obligation +and decorum which, in exposing his wife to the contempt of her own +children, was so highly reprehensible. But she had never felt so +strongly as now, the disadvantages which must attend the children of so +unsuitable a marriage, nor ever been so fully aware of the evils +arising from so ill-judged a direction of talents; talents which rightly +used, might at least have preserved the respectability of his daughters, +even if incapable of enlarging the mind of his wife. + +When Elizabeth had rejoiced over Wickham's departure, she found little +other cause for satisfaction in the loss of the regiment. Their parties +abroad were less varied than before; and at home she had a mother and +sister whose constant repinings at the dulness of every thing around +them, threw a real gloom over their domestic circle; and, though Kitty +might in time regain her natural degree of sense, since the disturbers +of her brain were removed, her other sister, from whose disposition +greater evil might be apprehended, was likely to be hardened in all her +folly and assurance, by a situation of such double danger as a watering +place and a camp. Upon the whole, therefore, she found, what has been +sometimes found before, that an event to which she had looked forward +with impatient desire, did not in taking place, bring all the +satisfaction she had promised herself. It was consequently necessary to +name some other period for the commencement of actual felicity; to have +some other point on which her wishes and hopes might be fixed, and by +again enjoying the pleasure of anticipation, console herself for the +present, and prepare for another disappointment. Her tour to the Lakes +was now the object of her happiest thoughts; it was her best consolation +for all the uncomfortable hours, which the discontentedness of her +mother and Kitty made inevitable; and could she have included Jane in +the scheme, every part of it would have been perfect. + +"But it is fortunate," thought she, "that I have something to wish for. +Were the whole arrangement complete, my disappointment would be certain. +But here, by carrying with me one ceaseless source of regret in my +sister's absence, I may reasonably hope to have all my expectations of +pleasure realized. A scheme of which every part promises delight, can +never be successful; and general disappointment is only warded off by +the defence of some little peculiar vexation." + +When Lydia went away, she promised to write very often and very minutely +to her mother and Kitty; but her letters were always long expected, and +always very short. Those to her mother, contained little else, than that +they were just returned from the library, where such and such officers +had attended them, and where she had seen such beautiful ornaments as +made her quite wild; that she had a new gown, or a new parasol, which +she would have described more fully, but was obliged to leave off in a +violent hurry, as Mrs. Forster called her, and they were going to the +camp;--and from her correspondence with her sister, there was still less +to be learnt--for her letters to Kitty, though rather longer, were much +too full of lines under the words to be made public. + +After the first fortnight or three weeks of her absence, health, good +humour and cheerfulness began to re-appear at Longbourn. Everything wore +a happier aspect. The families who had been in town for the winter came +back again, and summer finery and summer engagements arose. Mrs. Bennet +was restored to her usual querulous serenity, and by the middle of June +Kitty was so much recovered as to be able to enter Meryton without +tears; an event of such happy promise as to make Elizabeth hope, that by +the following Christmas, she might be so tolerably reasonable as not to +mention an officer above once a day, unless by some cruel and malicious +arrangement at the war-office, another regiment should be quartered in +Meryton. + +The time fixed for the beginning of their Northern tour was now fast +approaching; and a fortnight only was wanting of it, when a letter +arrived from Mrs. Gardiner, which at once delayed its commencement and +curtailed its extent. Mr. Gardiner would be prevented by business from +setting out till a fortnight later in July, and must be in London again +within a month; and as that left too short a period for them to go so +far, and see so much as they had proposed, or at least to see it with +the leisure and comfort they had built on, they were obliged to give up +the Lakes, and substitute a more contracted tour; and, according to the +present plan, were to go no farther northward than Derbyshire. In that +county, there was enough to be seen, to occupy the chief of their three +weeks; and to Mrs. Gardiner it had a peculiarly strong attraction. The +town where she had formerly passed some years of her life, and where +they were now to spend a few days, was probably as great an object of +her curiosity, as all the celebrated beauties of Matlock, Chatsworth, +Dovedale, or the Peak. + +Elizabeth was excessively disappointed; she had set her heart on seeing +the Lakes; and still thought there might have been time enough. But it +was her business to be satisfied--and certainly her temper to be happy; +and all was soon right again. + +With the mention of Derbyshire, there were many ideas connected. It was +impossible for her to see the word without thinking of Pemberley and its +owner. "But surely," said she, "I may enter his county with impunity, +and rob it of a few petrified spars without his perceiving me." + +The period of expectation was now doubled. Four weeks were to pass away +before her uncle and aunt's arrival. But they did pass away, and Mr. and +Mrs. Gardiner, with their four children, did at length appear at +Longbourn. The children, two girls of six and eight years old, and two +younger boys, were to be left under the particular care of their cousin +Jane, who was the general favourite, and whose steady sense and +sweetness of temper exactly adapted her for attending to them in every +way--teaching them, playing with them, and loving them. + +The Gardiners staid only one night at Longbourn, and set off the next +morning with Elizabeth in pursuit of novelty and amusement. One +enjoyment was certain--that of suitableness as companions; a +suitableness which comprehended health and temper to bear +inconveniences--cheerfulness to enhance every pleasure--and affection +and intelligence, which might supply it among themselves if there were +disappointments abroad. + +It is not the object of this work to give a description of Derbyshire, +nor of any of the remarkable places through which their route thither +lay; Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Kenelworth, Birmingham, &c. are +sufficiently known. A small part of Derbyshire is all the present +concern. To the little town of Lambton, the scene of Mrs. Gardiner's +former residence, and where she had lately learned that some +acquaintance still remained, they bent their steps, after having seen +all the principal wonders of the country; and within five miles of +Lambton, Elizabeth found from her aunt, that Pemberley was situated. It +was not in their direct road, nor more than a mile or two out of it. In +talking over their route the evening before, Mrs. Gardiner expressed an +inclination to see the place again. Mr. Gardiner declared his +willingness, and Elizabeth was applied to for her approbation. + +"My love, should not you like to see a place of which you have heard so +much?" said her aunt. "A place too, with which so many of your +acquaintance are connected. Wickham passed all his youth there, you +know." + +Elizabeth was distressed. She felt that she had no business at +Pemberley, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it. She +must own that she was tired of great houses; after going over so many, +she really had no pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains. + +Mrs. Gardiner abused her stupidity. "If it were merely a fine house +richly furnished," said she, "I should not care about it myself; but the +grounds are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the +country." + +Elizabeth said no more--but her mind could not acquiesce. The +possibility of meeting Mr. Darcy, while viewing the place, instantly +occurred. It would be dreadful! She blushed at the very idea; and +thought it would be better to speak openly to her aunt, than to run +such a risk. But against this, there were objections; and she finally +resolved that it could be the last resource, if her private enquiries as +to the absence of the family, were unfavourably answered. + +Accordingly, when she retired at night, she asked the chambermaid +whether Pemberley were not a very fine place, what was the name of its +proprietor, and with no little alarm, whether the family were down for +the summer. A most welcome negative followed the last question--and her +alarms being now removed, she was at leisure to feel a great deal of +curiosity to see the house herself; and when the subject was revived the +next morning, and she was again applied to, could readily answer, and +with a proper air of indifference, that she had not really any dislike +to the scheme. + +To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go. + + +END OF THE SECOND VOLUME. + + + + +[Illustration: MATLOCK] + + + + +PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: + +A Novel. + +In Three Volumes. + +By the Author of "Sense and Sensibility." + +VOL. III. + + + + + + + +London: +Printed for T. Egerton, +Military Library, Whitehall. +1813. + + + + +[Illustration: DOVE-DALE] + + + + +PRIDE & PREJUDICE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Elizabeth, as they drove along, watched for the first appearance of +Pemberley Woods with some perturbation; and when at length they turned +in at the lodge, her spirits were in a high flutter. + +The park was very large, and contained great variety of ground. They +entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through +a beautiful wood, stretching over a wide extent. + +Elizabeth's mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired +every remarkable spot and point of view. They gradually ascended for +half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable +eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by +Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which +the road with some abruptness wound. It was a large, handsome, stone +building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high +woody hills;--and in front, a stream of some natural importance was +swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks +were neither formal, nor falsely adorned. Elizabeth was delighted. She +had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural +beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They were +all of them warm in their admiration; and at that moment she felt, that +to be mistress of Pemberley might be something! + +They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door; and, +while examining the nearer aspect of the house, all her apprehensions of +meeting its owner returned. She dreaded lest the chambermaid had been +mistaken. On applying to see the place, they were admitted into the +hall; and Elizabeth, as they waited for the housekeeper, had leisure to +wonder at her being where she was. + +The housekeeper came; a respectable-looking, elderly woman, much less +fine, and more civil, than she had any notion of finding her. They +followed her into the dining-parlour. It was a large, well-proportioned +room, handsomely fitted up. Elizabeth, after slightly surveying it, went +to a window to enjoy its prospect. The hill, crowned with wood, from +which they had descended, receiving increased abruptness from the +distance, was a beautiful object. Every disposition of the ground was +good; and she looked on the whole scene, the river, the trees scattered +on its banks, and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace +it, with delight. As they passed into other rooms, these objects were +taking different positions; but from every window there were beauties to +be seen. The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable +to the fortune of their proprietor; but Elizabeth saw, with admiration +of his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine; with less of +splendor, and more real elegance, than the furniture of Rosings. + +"And of this place," thought she, "I might have been mistress! With +these rooms I might now have been familiarly acquainted! Instead of +viewing them as a stranger, I might have rejoiced in them as my own, and +welcomed to them as visitors my uncle and aunt.--But no,"--recollecting +herself,--"that could never be: my uncle and aunt would have been lost +to me: I should not have been allowed to invite them." + +This was a lucky recollection--it saved her from something like regret. + +She longed to enquire of the housekeeper, whether her master were really +absent, but had not courage for it. At length, however, the question was +asked by her uncle; and she turned away with alarm, while Mrs. Reynolds +replied, that he was, adding, "but we expect him to-morrow, with a +large party of friends." How rejoiced was Elizabeth that their own +journey had not by any circumstance been delayed a day! + +Her aunt now called her to look at a picture. She approached, and saw +the likeness of Mr. Wickham suspended, amongst several other miniatures, +over the mantle-piece. Her aunt asked her, smilingly, how she liked it. +The housekeeper came forward, and told them it was the picture of a +young gentleman, the son of her late master's steward, who had been +brought up by him at his own expence.--"He is now gone into the army," +she added, "but I am afraid he has turned out very wild." + +Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece with a smile, but Elizabeth could not +return it. + +"And that," said Mrs. Reynolds, pointing to another of the miniatures, +"is my master--and very like him. It was drawn at the same time as the +other--about eight years ago." + +"I have heard much of your master's fine person," said Mrs. Gardiner, +looking at the picture; "it is a handsome face. But, Lizzy, you can tell +us whether it is like or not." + +Mrs. Reynolds's respect for Elizabeth seemed to increase on this +intimation of her knowing her master. + +"Does that young lady know Mr. Darcy?" + +Elizabeth coloured, and said--"A little." + +"And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, Ma'am?" + +"Yes, very handsome." + +"I am sure _I_ know none so handsome; but in the gallery up stairs you +will see a finer, larger picture of him than this. This room was my late +master's favourite room, and these miniatures are just as they used to +be then. He was very fond of them." + +This accounted to Elizabeth for Mr. Wickham's being among them. + +Mrs. Reynolds then directed their attention to one of Miss Darcy, drawn +when she was only eight years old. + +"And is Miss Darcy as handsome as her brother?" said Mr. Gardiner. + +"Oh! yes--the handsomest young lady that ever was seen; and so +accomplished!--She plays and sings all day long. In the next room is a +new instrument just come down for her--a present from my master; she +comes here to-morrow with him." + +Mr. Gardiner, whose manners were easy and pleasant, encouraged her +communicativeness by his questions and remarks; Mrs. Reynolds, either +from pride or attachment, had evidently great pleasure in talking of her +master and his sister. + +"Is your master much at Pemberley in the course of the year?" + +"Not so much as I could wish, Sir; but I dare say he may spend half his +time here; and Miss Darcy is always down for the summer months." + +"Except," thought Elizabeth, "when she goes to Ramsgate." + +"If your master would marry, you might see more of him." + +"Yes, Sir; but I do not know when _that_ will be. I do not know who is +good enough for him." + +Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner smiled. Elizabeth could not help saying, "It is +very much to his credit, I am sure, that you should think so." + +"I say no more than the truth, and what every body will say that knows +him," replied the other. Elizabeth thought this was going pretty far; +and she listened with increasing astonishment as the housekeeper added, +"I have never had a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him +ever since he was four years old." + +This was praise, of all others most extraordinary, most opposite to her +ideas. That he was not a good-tempered man, had been her firmest +opinion. Her keenest attention was awakened; she longed to hear more, +and was grateful to her uncle for saying, + +"There are very few people of whom so much can be said. You are lucky in +having such a master." + +"Yes, Sir, I know I am. If I was to go through the world, I could not +meet with a better. But I have always observed, that they who are +good-natured when children, are good-natured when they grow up; and he +was always the sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted, boy in the +world." + +Elizabeth almost stared at her.--"Can this be Mr. Darcy!" thought she. + +"His father was an excellent man," said Mrs. Gardiner. + +"Yes, Ma'am, that he was indeed; and his son will be just like him--just +as affable to the poor." + +Elizabeth listened, wondered, doubted, and was impatient for more. Mrs. +Reynolds could interest her on no other point. She related the subject +of the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the +furniture, in vain. Mr. Gardiner, highly amused by the kind of family +prejudice, to which he attributed her excessive commendation of her +master, soon led again to the subject; and she dwelt with energy on his +many merits, as they proceeded together up the great staircase. + +"He is the best landlord, and the best master," said she, "that ever +lived. Not like the wild young men now-a-days, who think of nothing but +themselves. There is not one of his tenants or servants but what will +give him a good name. Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never +saw any thing of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle +away like other young men." + +"In what an amiable light does this place him!" thought Elizabeth. + +"This fine account of him," whispered her aunt, as they walked, "is not +quite consistent with his behaviour to our poor friend." + +"Perhaps we might be deceived." + +"That is not very likely; our authority was too good." + +On reaching the spacious lobby above, they were shewn into a very +pretty sitting-room, lately fitted up with greater elegance and +lightness than the apartments below; and were informed that it was but +just done, to give pleasure to Miss Darcy, who had taken a liking to the +room, when last at Pemberley. + +"He is certainly a good brother," said Elizabeth, as she walked towards +one of the windows. + +Mrs. Reynolds anticipated Miss Darcy's delight, when she should enter +the room. "And this is always the way with him," she added.--"Whatever +can give his sister any pleasure, is sure to be done in a moment. There +is nothing he would not do for her." + +The picture gallery, and two or three of the principal bed-rooms, were +all that remained to be shewn. In the former were many good paintings; +but Elizabeth knew nothing of the art; and from such as had been already +visible below, she had willingly turned to look at some drawings of Miss +Darcy's, in crayons, whose subjects were usually more interesting, and +also more intelligible. + +In the gallery there were many family portraits, but they could have +little to fix the attention of a stranger. Elizabeth walked on in quest +of the only face whose features would be known to her. At last it +arrested her--and she beheld a striking resemblance of Mr. Darcy, with +such a smile over the face, as she remembered to have sometimes seen, +when he looked at her. She stood several minutes before the picture in +earnest contemplation, and returned to it again before they quitted the +gallery. Mrs. Reynolds informed them, that it had been taken in his +father's life time. + +There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth's mind, a more gentle +sensation towards the original, than she had ever felt in the height of +their acquaintance. The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Reynolds +was of no trifling nature. What praise is more valuable than the praise +of an intelligent servant? As a brother, a landlord, a master, she +considered how many people's happiness were in his guardianship!--How +much of pleasure or pain it was in his power to bestow!--How much of +good or evil must be done by him! Every idea that had been brought +forward by the housekeeper was favourable to his character, and as she +stood before the canvas, on which he was represented, and fixed his eyes +upon herself, she thought of his regard with a deeper sentiment of +gratitude than it had ever raised before; she remembered its warmth, and +softened its impropriety of expression. + +When all of the house that was open to general inspection had been seen, +they returned down stairs, and taking leave of the housekeeper, were +consigned over to the gardener, who met them at the hall door. + +As they walked across the lawn towards the river, Elizabeth turned back +to look again; her uncle and aunt stopped also, and while the former was +conjecturing as to the date of the building, the owner of it himself +suddenly came forward from the road, which led behind it to the stables. + +They were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt was his +appearance, that it was impossible to avoid his sight. Their eyes +instantly met, and the cheeks of each were overspread with the deepest +blush. He absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immoveable from +surprise; but shortly recovering himself, advanced towards the party, +and spoke to Elizabeth, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least +of perfect civility. + +She had instinctively turned away; but, stopping on his approach, +received his compliments with an embarrassment impossible to be +overcome. Had his first appearance, or his resemblance to the picture +they had just been examining, been insufficient to assure the other two +that they now saw Mr. Darcy, the gardener's expression of surprise, on +beholding his master, must immediately have told it. They stood a little +aloof while he was talking to their niece, who, astonished and confused, +scarcely dared lift her eyes to his face, and knew not what answer she +returned to his civil enquiries after her family. Amazed at the +alteration in his manner since they last parted, every sentence that he +uttered was increasing her embarrassment; and every idea of the +impropriety of her being found there, recurring to her mind, the few +minutes in which they continued together, were some of the most +uncomfortable of her life. Nor did he seem much more at ease; when he +spoke, his accent had none of its usual sedateness; and he repeated his +enquiries as to the time of her having left Longbourn, and of her stay +in Derbyshire, so often, and in so hurried a way, as plainly spoke the +distraction of his thoughts. + +At length, every idea seemed to fail him; and, after standing a few +moments without saying a word, he suddenly recollected himself, and took +leave. + +The others then joined her, and expressed their admiration of his +figure; but Elizabeth heard not a word, and, wholly engrossed by her own +feelings, followed them in silence. She was overpowered by shame and +vexation. Her coming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged +thing in the world! How strange must it appear to him! In what a +disgraceful light might it not strike so vain a man! It might seem as if +she had purposely thrown herself in his way again! Oh! why did she come? +or, why did he thus come a day before he was expected? Had they been +only ten minutes sooner, they should have been beyond the reach of his +discrimination, for it was plain that he was that moment arrived, that +moment alighted from his horse or his carriage. She blushed again and +again over the perverseness of the meeting. And his behaviour, so +strikingly altered,--what could it mean? That he should even speak to +her was amazing!--but to speak with such civility, to enquire after her +family! Never in her life had she seen his manners so little dignified, +never had he spoken with such gentleness as on this unexpected meeting. +What a contrast did it offer to his last address in Rosing's Park, when +he put his letter into her hand! She knew not what to think, nor how to +account for it. + +They had now entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water, and +every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or a finer +reach of the woods to which they were approaching; but it was some time +before Elizabeth was sensible of any of it; and, though she answered +mechanically to the repeated appeals of her uncle and aunt, and seemed +to direct her eyes to such objects as they pointed out, she +distinguished no part of the scene. Her thoughts were all fixed on that +one spot of Pemberley House, whichever it might be, where Mr. Darcy then +was. She longed to know what at that moment was passing in his mind; in +what manner he thought of her, and whether, in defiance of every thing, +she was still dear to him. Perhaps he had been civil, only because he +felt himself at ease; yet there had been _that_ in his voice, which was +not like ease. Whether he had felt more of pain or of pleasure in seeing +her, she could not tell, but he certainly had not seen her with +composure. + +At length, however, the remarks of her companions on her absence of mind +roused her, and she felt the necessity of appearing more like herself. + +They entered the woods, and bidding adieu to the river for a while, +ascended some of the higher grounds; whence, in spots where the opening +of the trees gave the eye power to wander, were many charming views of +the valley, the opposite hills, with the long range of woods +overspreading many, and occasionally part of the stream. Mr. Gardiner +expressed a wish of going round the whole Park, but feared it might be +beyond a walk. With a triumphant smile, they were told, that it was ten +miles round. It settled the matter; and they pursued the accustomed +circuit; which brought them again, after some time, in a descent among +hanging woods, to the edge of the water, in one of its narrowest parts. +They crossed it by a simple bridge, in character with the general air of +the scene; it was a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited; and +the valley, here contracted into a glen, allowed room only for the +stream, and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-wood which bordered +it. Elizabeth longed to explore its windings; but when they had crossed +the bridge, and perceived their distance from the house, Mrs. Gardiner, +who was not a great walker, could go no farther, and thought only of +returning to the carriage as quickly as possible. Her niece was, +therefore, obliged to submit, and they took their way towards the house +on the opposite side of the river, in the nearest direction; but their +progress was slow, for Mr. Gardiner, though seldom able to indulge the +taste, was very fond of fishing, and was so much engaged in watching the +occasional appearance of some trout in the water, and talking to the man +about them, that he advanced but little. Whilst wandering on in this +slow manner, they were again surprised, and Elizabeth's astonishment was +quite equal to what it had been at first, by the sight of Mr. Darcy +approaching them, and at no great distance. The walk being here less +sheltered than on the other side, allowed them to see him before they +met. Elizabeth, however astonished, was at least more prepared for an +interview than before, and resolved to appear and to speak with +calmness, if he really intended to meet them. For a few moments, indeed, +she felt that he would probably strike into some other path. This idea +lasted while a turning in the walk concealed him from their view; the +turning past, he was immediately before them. With a glance she saw, +that he had lost none of his recent civility; and, to imitate his +politeness, she began, as they met, to admire the beauty of the place; +but she had not got beyond the words "delightful," and "charming," when +some unlucky recollections obtruded, and she fancied that praise of +Pemberley from her, might be mischievously construed. Her colour +changed, and she said no more. + +Mrs. Gardiner was standing a little behind; and on her pausing, he asked +her, if she would do him the honour of introducing him to her friends. +This was a stroke of civility for which she was quite unprepared; and +she could hardly suppress a smile, at his being now seeking the +acquaintance of some of those very people, against whom his pride had +revolted, in his offer to herself. "What will be his surprise," thought +she, "when he knows who they are! He takes them now for people of +fashion." + +The introduction, however, was immediately made; and as she named their +relationship to herself, she stole a sly look at him, to see how he bore +it; and was not without the expectation of his decamping as fast as he +could from such disgraceful companions. That he was _surprised_ by the +connexion was evident; he sustained it however with fortitude, and so +far from going away, turned back with them, and entered into +conversation with Mr. Gardiner. Elizabeth could not but be pleased, +could not but triumph. It was consoling, that he should know she had +some relations for whom there was no need to blush. She listened most +attentively to all that passed between them, and gloried in every +expression, every sentence of her uncle, which marked his intelligence, +his taste, or his good manners. + +The conversation soon turned upon fishing, and she heard Mr. Darcy +invite him, with the greatest civility, to fish there as often as he +chose, while he continued in the neighbourhood, offering at the same +time to supply him with fishing tackle, and pointing out those parts of +the stream where there was usually most sport. Mrs. Gardiner, who was +walking arm in arm with Elizabeth, gave her a look expressive of her +wonder. Elizabeth said nothing, but it gratified her exceedingly; the +compliment must be all for herself. Her astonishment, however, was +extreme; and continually was she repeating, "Why is he so altered? From +what can it proceed? It cannot be for _me_, it cannot be for _my_ sake +that his manners are thus softened. My reproofs at Hunsford could not +work such a change as this. It is impossible that he should still love +me." + +After walking some time in this way, the two ladies in front, the two +gentlemen behind, on resuming their places, after descending to the +brink of the river for the better inspection of some curious +water-plant, there chanced to be a little alteration. It originated in +Mrs. Gardiner, who, fatigued by the exercise of the morning, found +Elizabeth's arm inadequate to her support, and consequently preferred +her husband's. Mr. Darcy took her place by her niece, and they walked on +together. After a short silence, the lady first spoke. She wished him to +know that she had been assured of his absence before she came to the +place, and accordingly began by observing, that his arrival had been +very unexpected--"for your housekeeper," she added, "informed us that +you would certainly not be here till to-morrow; and indeed, before we +left Bakewell, we understood that you were not immediately expected in +the country." He acknowledged the truth of it all; and said that +business with his steward had occasioned his coming forward a few hours +before the rest of the party with whom he had been travelling. "They +will join me early to-morrow," he continued, "and among them are some +who will claim an acquaintance with you,--Mr. Bingley and his sisters." + +Elizabeth answered only by a slight bow. Her thoughts were instantly +driven back to the time when Mr. Bingley's name had been last mentioned +between them; and if she might judge from his complexion, _his_ mind was +not very differently engaged. + +"There is also one other person in the party," he continued after a +pause, "who more particularly wishes to be known to you,--Will you allow +me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance +during your stay at Lambton?" + +The surprise of such an application was great indeed; it was too great +for her to know in what manner she acceded to it. She immediately felt +that whatever desire Miss Darcy might have of being acquainted with her, +must be the work of her brother, and without looking farther, it was +satisfactory; it was gratifying to know that his resentment had not made +him think really ill of her. + +They now walked on in silence; each of them deep in thought. Elizabeth +was not comfortable; that was impossible; but she was flattered and +pleased. His wish of introducing his sister to her, was a compliment of +the highest kind. They soon outstripped the others, and when they had +reached the carriage, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were half a quarter of a +mile behind. + +He then asked her to walk into the house--but she declared herself not +tired, and they stood together on the lawn. At such a time, much might +have been said, and silence was very awkward. She wanted to talk, but +there seemed an embargo on every subject. At last she recollected that +she had been travelling, and they talked of Matlock and Dove Dale with +great perseverance. Yet time and her aunt moved slowly--and her patience +and her ideas were nearly worn out before the tête-à-tête was over. On +Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's coming up, they were all pressed to go into the +house and take some refreshment; but this was declined, and they parted +on each side with the utmost politeness. Mr. Darcy handed the ladies +into the carriage, and when it drove off, Elizabeth saw him walking +slowly towards the house. + +The observations of her uncle and aunt now began; and each of them +pronounced him to be infinitely superior to any thing they had expected. +"He is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming," said her uncle. + +"There _is_ something a little stately in him to be sure," replied her +aunt, "but it is confined to his air, and is not unbecoming. I can now +say with the housekeeper, that though some people may call him proud, +_I_ have seen nothing of it." + +"I was never more surprised than by his behaviour to us. It was more +than civil; it was really attentive; and there was no necessity for such +attention. His acquaintance with Elizabeth was very trifling." + +"To be sure, Lizzy," said her aunt, "he is not so handsome as Wickham; +or rather he has not Wickham's countenance, for his features are +perfectly good. But how came you to tell us that he was so +disagreeable?" + +Elizabeth excused herself as well as she could; said that she had liked +him better when they met in Kent than before, and that she had never +seen him so pleasant as this morning. + +"But perhaps he may be a little whimsical in his civilities," replied +her uncle. "Your great men often are; and therefore I shall not take him +at his word about fishing, as he might change his mind another day, and +warn me off his grounds." + +Elizabeth felt that they had entirely mistaken his character, but said +nothing. + +"From what we have seen of him," continued Mrs. Gardiner, "I really +should not have thought that he could have behaved in so cruel a way by +any body, as he has done by poor Wickham. He has not an ill-natured +look. On the contrary, there is something pleasing about his mouth when +he speaks. And there is something of dignity in his countenance, that +would not give one an unfavourable idea of his heart. But to be sure, +the good lady who shewed us the house, did give him a most flaming +character! I could hardly help laughing aloud sometimes. But he is a +liberal master, I suppose, and _that_ in the eye of a servant +comprehends every virtue." + +Elizabeth here felt herself called on to say something in vindication of +his behaviour to Wickham; and therefore gave them to understand, in as +guarded a manner as she could, that by what she had heard from his +relations in Kent, his actions were capable of a very different +construction; and that his character was by no means so faulty, nor +Wickham's so amiable, as they had been considered in Hertfordshire. In +confirmation of this, she related the particulars of all the pecuniary +transactions in which they had been connected, without actually naming +her authority, but stating it to be such as might be relied on. + +Mrs. Gardiner was surprised and concerned; but as they were now +approaching the scene of her former pleasures, every idea gave way to +the charm of recollection; and she was too much engaged in pointing out +to her husband all the interesting spots in its environs, to think of +any thing else. Fatigued as she had been by the morning's walk, they had +no sooner dined than she set off again in quest of her former +acquaintance, and the evening was spent in the satisfactions of an +intercourse renewed after many years discontinuance. + +The occurrences of the day were too full of interest to leave Elizabeth +much attention for any of these new friends; and she could do nothing +but think, and think with wonder, of Mr. Darcy's civility, and above +all, of his wishing her to be acquainted with his sister. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Elizabeth had settled it that Mr. Darcy would bring his sister to visit +her, the very day after her reaching Pemberley; and was consequently +resolved not to be out of sight of the inn the whole of that morning. +But her conclusion was false; for on the very morning after their own +arrival at Lambton, these visitors came. They had been walking about the +place with some of their new friends, and were just returned to the inn +to dress themselves for dining with the same family, when the sound of a +carriage drew them to a window, and they saw a gentleman and lady in a +curricle, driving up the street. Elizabeth immediately recognising the +livery, guessed what it meant, and imparted no small degree of surprise +to her relations, by acquainting them with the honour which she +expected. Her uncle and aunt were all amazement; and the embarrassment +of her manner as she spoke, joined to the circumstance itself, and many +of the circumstances of the preceding day, opened to them a new idea on +the business. Nothing had ever suggested it before, but they now felt +that there was no other way of accounting for such attentions from such +a quarter, than by supposing a partiality for their niece. While these +newly-born notions were passing in their heads, the perturbation of +Elizabeth's feelings was every moment increasing. She was quite amazed +at her own discomposure; but amongst other causes of disquiet, she +dreaded lest the partiality of the brother should have said too much in +her favour; and more than commonly anxious to please, she naturally +suspected that every power of pleasing would fail her. + +She retreated from the window, fearful of being seen; and as she walked +up and down the room, endeavouring to compose herself, saw such looks +of enquiring surprise in her uncle and aunt, as made every thing worse. + +Miss Darcy and her brother appeared, and this formidable introduction +took place. With astonishment did Elizabeth see, that her new +acquaintance was at least as much embarrassed as herself. Since her +being at Lambton, she had heard that Miss Darcy was exceedingly proud; +but the observation of a very few minutes convinced her, that she was +only exceedingly shy. She found it difficult to obtain even a word from +her beyond a monosyllable. + +Miss Darcy was tall, and on a larger scale than Elizabeth; and, though +little more than sixteen, her figure was formed, and her appearance +womanly and graceful. She was less handsome than her brother, but there +was sense and good humour in her face, and her manners were perfectly +unassuming and gentle. Elizabeth, who had expected to find in her as +acute and unembarrassed an observer as ever Mr. Darcy had been, was much +relieved by discerning such different feelings. + +They had not been long together, before Darcy told her that Bingley was +also coming to wait on her; and she had barely time to express her +satisfaction, and prepare for such a visitor, when Bingley's quick step +was heard on the stairs, and in a moment he entered the room. All +Elizabeth's anger against him had been long done away; but, had she +still felt any, it could hardly have stood its ground against the +unaffected cordiality with which he expressed himself, on seeing her +again. He enquired in a friendly, though general way, after her family, +and looked and spoke with the same good-humoured ease that he had ever +done. + +To Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner he was scarcely a less interesting personage +than to herself. They had long wished to see him. The whole party before +them, indeed, excited a lively attention. The suspicions which had just +arisen of Mr. Darcy and their niece, directed their observation towards +each with an earnest, though guarded, enquiry; and they soon drew from +those enquiries the full conviction that one of them at least knew what +it was to love. Of the lady's sensations they remained a little in +doubt; but that the gentleman was overflowing with admiration was +evident enough. + +Elizabeth, on her side, had much to do. She wanted to ascertain the +feelings of each of her visitors, she wanted to compose her own, and to +make herself agreeable to all; and in the latter object, where she +feared most to fail, she was most sure of success, for those to whom she +endeavoured to give pleasure were prepossessed in her favour. Bingley +was ready, Georgiana was eager, and Darcy determined, to be pleased. + +In seeing Bingley, her thoughts naturally flew to her sister; and oh! +how ardently did she long to know, whether any of his were directed in a +like manner. Sometimes she could fancy, that he talked less than on +former occasions, and once or twice pleased herself with the notion that +as he looked at her, he was trying to trace a resemblance. But, though +this might be imaginary, she could not be deceived as to his behaviour +to Miss Darcy, who had been set up as a rival of Jane. No look appeared +on either side that spoke particular regard. Nothing occurred between +them that could justify the hopes of his sister. On this point she was +soon satisfied; and two or three little circumstances occurred ere they +parted, which, in her anxious interpretation, denoted a recollection of +Jane, not untinctured by tenderness, and a wish of saying more that +might lead to the mention of her, had he dared. He observed to her, at a +moment when the others were talking together, and in a tone which had +something of real regret, that it "was a very long time since he had had +the pleasure of seeing her;" and, before she could reply, he added, "It +is above eight months. We have not met since the 26th of November, when +we were all dancing together at Netherfield." + +Elizabeth was pleased to find his memory so exact; and he afterwards +took occasion to ask her, when unattended to by any of the rest, +whether _all_ her sisters were at Longbourn. There was not much in the +question, nor in the preceding remark, but there was a look and a manner +which gave them meaning. + +It was not often that she could turn her eyes on Mr. Darcy himself; but, +whenever she did catch a glimpse, she saw an expression of general +complaisance, and in all that he said, she heard an accent so far +removed from hauteur or disdain of his companions, as convinced her that +the improvement of manners which she had yesterday witnessed, however +temporary its existence might prove, had at least outlived one day. When +she saw him thus seeking the acquaintance, and courting the good opinion +of people, with whom any intercourse a few months ago would have been a +disgrace; when she saw him thus civil, not only to herself, but to the +very relations whom he had openly disdained, and recollected their last +lively scene in Hunsford Parsonage, the difference, the change was so +great, and struck so forcibly on her mind, that she could hardly +restrain her astonishment from being visible. Never, even in the company +of his dear friends at Netherfield, or his dignified relations at +Rosings, had she seen him so desirous to please, so free from +self-consequence, or unbending reserve as now, when no importance could +result from the success of his endeavours, and when even the +acquaintance of those to whom his attentions were addressed, would draw +down the ridicule and censure of the ladies both of Netherfield and +Rosings. + +Their visitors staid with them above half an hour, and when they arose +to depart, Mr. Darcy called on his sister to join him in expressing +their wish of seeing Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, and Miss Bennet, to dinner +at Pemberley, before they left the country. Miss Darcy, though with a +diffidence which marked her little in the habit of giving invitations, +readily obeyed. Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece, desirous of knowing +how _she_, whom the invitation most concerned, felt disposed as to its +acceptance, but Elizabeth had turned away her head. Presuming, however, +that this studied avoidance spoke rather a momentary embarrassment, than +any dislike of the proposal, and seeing in her husband, who was fond of +society, a perfect willingness to accept it, she ventured to engage for +her attendance, and the day after the next was fixed on. + +Bingley expressed great pleasure in the certainty of seeing Elizabeth +again, having still a great deal to say to her, and many enquiries to +make after all their Hertfordshire friends. Elizabeth, construing all +this into a wish of hearing her speak of her sister, was pleased; and on +this account, as well as some others, found herself, when their visitors +left them, capable of considering the last half hour with some +satisfaction, though while it was passing, the enjoyment of it had been +little. Eager to be alone, and fearful of enquiries or hints from her +uncle and aunt, she staid with them only long enough to hear their +favourable opinion of Bingley, and then hurried away to dress. + +But she had no reason to fear Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's curiosity; it was +not their wish to force her communication. It was evident that she was +much better acquainted with Mr. Darcy than they had before any idea of; +it was evident that he was very much in love with her. They saw much to +interest, but nothing to justify enquiry. + +Of Mr. Darcy it was now a matter of anxiety to think well; and, as far +as their acquaintance reached, there was no fault to find. They could +not be untouched by his politeness, and had they drawn his character +from their own feelings, and his servant's report, without any reference +to any other account, the circle in Hertfordshire to which he was known, +would not have recognised it for Mr. Darcy. There was now an interest, +however, in believing the housekeeper; and they soon became sensible, +that the authority of a servant who had known him since he was four +years old, and whose own manners indicated respectability, was not to be +hastily rejected. Neither had any thing occurred in the intelligence of +their Lambton friends, that could materially lessen its weight. They +had nothing to accuse him of but pride; pride he probably had, and if +not, it would certainly be imputed by the inhabitants of a small +market-town, where the family did not visit. It was acknowledged, +however, that he was a liberal man, and did much good among the poor. + +With respect to Wickham, the travellers soon found that he was not held +there in much estimation; for though the chief of his concerns, with the +son of his patron, were imperfectly understood, it was yet a well known +fact that, on his quitting Derbyshire, he had left many debts behind +him, which Mr. Darcy afterwards discharged. + +As for Elizabeth, her thoughts were at Pemberley this evening more than +the last; and the evening, though as it passed it seemed long, was not +long enough to determine her feelings towards _one_ in that mansion; and +she lay awake two whole hours, endeavouring to make them out. She +certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she +had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him, +that could be so called. The respect created by the conviction of his +valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for some +time ceased to be repugnant to her feelings; and it was now heightened +into somewhat of a friendlier nature, by the testimony so highly in his +favour, and bringing forward his disposition in so amiable a light, +which yesterday had produced. But above all, above respect and esteem, +there was a motive within her of good will which could not be +overlooked. It was gratitude.--Gratitude, not merely for having once +loved her, but for loving her still well enough, to forgive all the +petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the +unjust accusations accompanying her rejection. He who, she had been +persuaded, would avoid her as his greatest enemy, seemed, on this +accidental meeting, most eager to preserve the acquaintance, and without +any indelicate display of regard, or any peculiarity of manner, where +their two selves only were concerned, was soliciting the good opinion +of her friends, and bent on making her known to his sister. Such a +change in a man of so much pride, excited not only astonishment but +gratitude--for to love, ardent love, it must be attributed; and as such +its impression on her was of a sort to be encouraged, as by no means +unpleasing, though it could not be exactly defined. She respected, she +esteemed, she was grateful to him, she felt a real interest in his +welfare; and she only wanted to know how far she wished that welfare to +depend upon herself, and how far it would be for the happiness of both +that she should employ the power, which her fancy told her she still +possessed, of bringing on the renewal of his addresses. + +It had been settled in the evening, between the aunt and niece, that +such a striking civility as Miss Darcy's, in coming to them on the very +day of her arrival at Pemberley, for she had reached it only to a late +breakfast, ought to be imitated, though it could not be equalled, by +some exertion of politeness on their side; and, consequently, that it +would be highly expedient to wait on her at Pemberley the following +morning. They were, therefore, to go.--Elizabeth was pleased, though, +when she asked herself the reason, she had very little to say in reply. + +Mr. Gardiner left them soon after breakfast. The fishing scheme had been +renewed the day before, and a positive engagement made of his meeting +some of the gentlemen at Pemberley by noon. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Convinced as Elizabeth now was that Miss Bingley's dislike of her had +originated in jealousy, she could not help feeling how very unwelcome +her appearance at Pemberley must be to her, and was curious to know with +how much civility on that lady's side, the acquaintance would now be +renewed. + +On reaching the house, they were shewn through the hall into the saloon, +whose northern aspect rendered it delightful for summer. Its windows +opening to the ground, admitted a most refreshing view of the high woody +hills behind the house, and of the beautiful oaks and Spanish chesnuts +which were scattered over the intermediate lawn. + +In this room they were received by Miss Darcy, who was sitting there +with Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and the lady with whom she lived in +London. Georgiana's reception of them was very civil; but attended with +all that embarrassment which, though proceeding from shyness and the +fear of doing wrong, would easily give to those who felt themselves +inferior, the belief of her being proud and reserved. Mrs. Gardiner and +her niece, however, did her justice, and pitied her. + +By Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, they were noticed only by a curtsey; and +on their being seated, a pause, awkward as such pauses must always be, +succeeded for a few moments. It was first broken by Mrs. Annesley, a +genteel, agreeable-looking woman, whose endeavour to introduce some kind +of discourse, proved her to be more truly well bred than either of the +others; and between her and Mrs. Gardiner, with occasional help from +Elizabeth, the conversation was carried on. Miss Darcy looked as if she +wished for courage enough to join in it; and sometimes did venture a +short sentence, when there was least danger of its being heard. + +Elizabeth soon saw that she was herself closely watched by Miss Bingley, +and that she could not speak a word, especially to Miss Darcy, without +calling her attention. This observation would not have prevented her +from trying to talk to the latter, had they not been seated at an +inconvenient distance; but she was not sorry to be spared the necessity +of saying much. Her own thoughts were employing her. She expected every +moment that some of the gentlemen would enter the room. She wished, she +feared that the master of the house might be amongst them; and whether +she wished or feared it most, she could scarcely determine. After +sitting in this manner a quarter of an hour, without hearing Miss +Bingley's voice, Elizabeth was roused by receiving from her a cold +enquiry after the health of her family. She answered with equal +indifference and brevity, and the other said no more. + +The next variation which their visit afforded was produced by the +entrance of servants with cold meat, cake, and a variety of all the +finest fruits in season; but this did not take place till after many a +significant look and smile from Mrs. Annesley to Miss Darcy had been +given, to remind her of her post. There was now employment for the whole +party; for though they could not all talk, they could all eat; and the +beautiful pyramids of grapes, nectarines, and peaches, soon collected +them round the table. + +While thus engaged, Elizabeth had a fair opportunity of deciding whether +she most feared or wished for the appearance of Mr. Darcy, by the +feelings which prevailed on his entering the room; and then, though but +a moment before she had believed her wishes to predominate, she began to +regret that he came. + +He had been some time with Mr. Gardiner, who, with two or three other +gentlemen from the house, was engaged by the river, and had left him +only on learning that the ladies of the family intended a visit to +Georgiana that morning. No sooner did he appear, than Elizabeth wisely +resolved to be perfectly easy and unembarrassed;--a resolution the more +necessary to be made, but perhaps not the more easily kept, because she +saw that the suspicions of the whole party were awakened against them, +and that there was scarcely an eye which did not watch his behaviour +when he first came into the room. In no countenance was attentive +curiosity so strongly marked as in Miss Bingley's, in spite of the +smiles which overspread her face whenever she spoke to one of its +objects; for jealousy had not yet made her desperate, and her attentions +to Mr. Darcy were by no means over. Miss Darcy, on her brother's +entrance, exerted herself much more to talk; and Elizabeth saw that he +was anxious for his sister and herself to get acquainted, and forwarded, +as much as possible, every attempt at conversation on either side. Miss +Bingley saw all this likewise; and, in the imprudence of anger, took the +first opportunity of saying, with sneering civility, + +"Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the ----shire militia removed from Meryton? +They must be a great loss to _your_ family." + +In Darcy's presence she dared not mention Wickham's name; but Elizabeth +instantly comprehended that he was uppermost in her thoughts; and the +various recollections connected with him gave her a moment's distress; +but, exerting herself vigorously to repel the ill-natured attack, she +presently answered the question in a tolerably disengaged tone. While +she spoke, an involuntary glance shewed her Darcy with an heightened +complexion, earnestly looking at her, and his sister overcome with +confusion, and unable to lift up her eyes. Had Miss Bingley known what +pain she was then giving her beloved friend, she undoubtedly would have +refrained from the hint; but she had merely intended to discompose +Elizabeth, by bringing forward the idea of a man to whom she believed +her partial, to make her betray a sensibility which might injure her in +Darcy's opinion, and perhaps to remind the latter of all the follies and +absurdities, by which some part of her family were connected with that +corps. Not a syllable had ever reached her of Miss Darcy's meditated +elopement. To no creature had it been revealed, where secresy was +possible, except to Elizabeth; and from all Bingley's connections her +brother was particularly anxious to conceal it, from that very wish +which Elizabeth had long ago attributed to him, of their becoming +hereafter her own. He had certainly formed such a plan, and without +meaning that it should affect his endeavour to separate him from Miss +Bennet, it is probable that it might add something to his lively concern +for the welfare of his friend. + +Elizabeth's collected behaviour, however, soon quieted his emotion; and +as Miss Bingley, vexed and disappointed, dared not approach nearer to +Wickham, Georgiana also recovered in time, though not enough to be able +to speak any more. Her brother, whose eye she feared to meet, scarcely +recollected her interest in the affair, and the very circumstance which +had been designed to turn his thoughts from Elizabeth, seemed to have +fixed them on her more, and more cheerfully. + +Their visit did not continue long after the question and answer +above-mentioned; and while Mr. Darcy was attending them to their +carriage, Miss Bingley was venting her feelings in criticisms on +Elizabeth's person, behaviour, and dress. But Georgiana would not join +her. Her brother's recommendation was enough to ensure her favour: his +judgment could not err, and he had spoken in such terms of Elizabeth, as +to leave Georgiana without the power of finding her otherwise than +lovely and amiable. When Darcy returned to the saloon, Miss Bingley +could not help repeating to him some part of what she had been saying to +his sister. + +"How very ill Eliza Bennet looks this morning, Mr. Darcy," she cried; "I +never in my life saw any one so much altered as she is since the winter. +She is grown so brown and coarse! Louisa and I were agreeing that we +should not have known her again." + +However little Mr. Darcy might have liked such an address, he contented +himself with coolly replying, that he perceived no other alteration than +her being rather tanned,--no miraculous consequence of travelling in the +summer. + +"For my own part," she rejoined, "I must confess that I never could see +any beauty in her. Her face is too thin; her complexion has no +brilliancy; and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose wants +character; there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are +tolerable, but not out of the common way; and as for her eyes, which +have sometimes been called so fine, I never could perceive any thing +extraordinary in them. They have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do not +like at all; and in her air altogether, there is a self-sufficiency +without fashion, which is intolerable." + +Persuaded as Miss Bingley was that Darcy admired Elizabeth, this was not +the best method of recommending herself; but angry people are not always +wise; and in seeing him at last look somewhat nettled, she had all the +success she expected. He was resolutely silent however; and, from a +determination of making him speak, she continued, + +"I remember, when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all +were to find that she was a reputed beauty; and I particularly recollect +your saying one night, after they had been dining at Netherfield, '_She_ +a beauty!--I should as soon call her mother a wit.' But afterwards she +seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty at +one time." + +"Yes," replied Darcy, who could contain himself no longer, "but _that_ +was only when I first knew her, for it is many months since I have +considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance." + +He then went away, and Miss Bingley was left to all the satisfaction of +having forced him to say what gave no one any pain but herself. + +Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth talked of all that had occurred, during +their visit, as they returned, except what had particularly interested +them both. The looks and behaviour of every body they had seen were +discussed, except of the person who had mostly engaged their attention. +They talked of his sister, his friends, his house, his fruit, of every +thing but himself; yet Elizabeth was longing to know what Mrs. Gardiner +thought of him, and Mrs. Gardiner would have been highly gratified by +her niece's beginning the subject. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Elizabeth had been a good deal disappointed in not finding a letter from +Jane, on their first arrival at Lambton; and this disappointment had +been renewed on each of the mornings that had now been spent there; but +on the third, her repining was over, and her sister justified by the +receipt of two letters from her at once, on one of which was marked that +it had been missent elsewhere. Elizabeth was not surprised at it, as +Jane had written the direction remarkably ill. + +They had just been preparing to walk as the letters came in; and her +uncle and aunt, leaving her to enjoy them in quiet, set off by +themselves. The one missent must be first attended to; it had been +written five days ago. The beginning contained an account of all their +little parties and engagements, with such news as the country afforded; +but the latter half, which was dated a day later, and written in evident +agitation, gave more important intelligence. It was to this effect: + + "Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurred of + a most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming + you--be assured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to + poor Lydia. An express came at twelve last night, just as we were + all gone to bed, from Colonel Forster, to inform us that she was + gone off to Scotland with one of his officers; to own the truth, + with Wickham!--Imagine our surprise. To Kitty, however, it does not + seem so wholly unexpected. I am very, very sorry. So imprudent a + match on both sides!--But I am willing to hope the best, and that + his character has been misunderstood. Thoughtless and indiscreet I + can easily believe him, but this step (and let us rejoice over it) + marks nothing bad at heart. His choice is disinterested at least, + for he must know my father can give her nothing. Our poor mother + is sadly grieved. My father bears it better. How thankful am I, + that we never let them know what has been said against him; we must + forget it ourselves. They were off Saturday night about twelve, as + is conjectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning at + eight. The express was sent off directly. My dear Lizzy, they must + have passed within ten miles of us. Colonel Forster gives us reason + to expect him here soon. Lydia left a few lines for his wife, + informing her of their intention. I must conclude, for I cannot be + long from my poor mother. I am afraid you will not be able to make + it out, but I hardly know what I have written." + +Without allowing herself time for consideration, and scarcely knowing +what she felt, Elizabeth on finishing this letter, instantly seized the +other, and opening it with the utmost impatience, read as follows: it +had been written a day later than the conclusion of the first. + + "By this time, my dearest sister, you have received my hurried + letter; I wish this may be more intelligible, but though not + confined for time, my head is so bewildered that I cannot answer + for being coherent. Dearest Lizzy, I hardly know what I would + write, but I have bad news for you, and it cannot be delayed. + Imprudent as a marriage between Mr. Wickham and our poor Lydia + would be, we are now anxious to be assured it has taken place, for + there is but too much reason to fear they are not gone to Scotland. + Colonel Forster came yesterday, having left Brighton the day + before, not many hours after the express. Though Lydia's short + letter to Mrs. F. gave them to understand that they were going to + Gretna Green, something was dropped by Denny expressing his belief + that W. never intended to go there, or to marry Lydia at all, which + was repeated to Colonel F. who instantly taking the alarm, set off + from B. intending to trace their route. He did trace them easily to + Clapham, but no farther; for on entering that place they removed + into a hackney-coach and dismissed the chaise that brought them + from Epsom. All that is known after this is, that they were seen + to continue the London road. I know not what to think. After making + every possible enquiry on that side London, Colonel F. came on into + Hertfordshire, anxiously renewing them at all the turnpikes, and at + the inns in Barnet and Hatfield, but without any success, no such + people had been seen to pass through. With the kindest concern he + came on to Longbourn, and broke his apprehensions to us in a manner + most creditable to his heart. I am sincerely grieved for him and + Mrs. F. but no one can throw any blame on them. Our distress, my + dear Lizzy, is very great. My father and mother believe the worst, + but I cannot think so ill of him. Many circumstances might make it + more eligible for them to be married privately in town than to + pursue their first plan; and even if _he_ could form such a design + against a young woman of Lydia's connections, which is not likely, + can I suppose her so lost to every thing?--Impossible. I grieve to + find, however, that Colonel F. is not disposed to depend upon their + marriage; he shook his head when I expressed my hopes, and said he + feared W. was not a man to be trusted. My poor mother is really ill + and keeps her room. Could she exert herself it would be better, but + this is not to be expected; and as to my father, I never in my life + saw him so affected. Poor Kitty has anger for having concealed + their attachment; but as it was a matter of confidence one cannot + wonder. I am truly glad, dearest Lizzy, that you have been spared + something of these distressing scenes; but now as the first shock + is over, shall I own that I long for your return? I am not so + selfish, however, as to press for it, if inconvenient. Adieu. I + take up my pen again to do, what I have just told you I would not, + but circumstances are such, that I cannot help earnestly begging + you all to come here, as soon as possible. I know my dear uncle and + aunt so well, that I am not afraid of requesting it, though I have + still something more to ask of the former. My father is going to + London with Colonel Forster instantly, to try to discover her. What + he means to do, I am sure I know not; but his excessive distress + will not allow him to pursue any measure in the best and safest + way, and Colonel Forster is obliged to be at Brighton again + to-morrow evening. In such an exigence my uncle's advice and + assistance would be every thing in the world; he will immediately + comprehend what I must feel, and I rely upon his goodness." + +"Oh! where, where is my uncle?" cried Elizabeth, darting from her seat +as she finished the letter, in eagerness to follow him, without losing a +moment of the time so precious; but as she reached the door, it was +opened by a servant, and Mr. Darcy appeared. Her pale face and impetuous +manner made him start, and before he could recover himself enough to +speak, she, in whose mind every idea was superseded by Lydia's +situation, hastily exclaimed, "I beg your pardon, but I must leave you. +I must find Mr. Gardiner this moment, on business that cannot be +delayed; I have not an instant to lose." + +"Good God! what is the matter?" cried he, with more feeling than +politeness; then recollecting himself, "I will not detain you a minute, +but let me, or let the servant, go after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. You are +not well enough;--you cannot go yourself." + +Elizabeth hesitated, but her knees trembled under her, and she felt how +little would be gained by her attempting to pursue them. Calling back +the servant, therefore, she commissioned him, though in so breathless an +accent as made her almost unintelligible, to fetch his master and +mistress home, instantly. + +On his quitting the room, she sat down, unable to support herself, and +looking so miserably ill, that it was impossible for Darcy to leave her, +or to refrain from saying, in a tone of gentleness and commiseration, +"Let me call your maid. Is there nothing you could take, to give you +present relief?--A glass of wine;--shall I get you one?--You are very +ill." + +"No, I thank you;" she replied, endeavouring to recover herself. "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 burst into tears as she alluded to it, and for a few minutes could +not speak another word. Darcy, in wretched suspense, could only say +something indistinctly of his concern, and observe her in compassionate +silence. At length, she spoke again. "I have just had a letter from +Jane, with such dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from any one. My +youngest sister has left all her friends--has eloped;--has thrown +herself into the power of--of Mr. Wickham. They are gone off together +from Brighton. _You_ know him too well to doubt the rest. She has no +money, no connections, nothing that can tempt him to--she is lost for +ever." + +Darcy was fixed in astonishment. "When I consider," she added, in a yet +more agitated voice, "that _I_ might have prevented it!--_I_ who knew +what he was. Had I but explained some part of it only--some part of what +I learnt, to my own family! Had his character been known, this could not +have happened. But it is all, all too late now." + +"I am grieved, indeed," cried Darcy; "grieved--shocked. But is it +certain, absolutely certain?" + +"Oh yes!--They left Brighton together on Sunday night, and were traced +almost to London, but not beyond; they are certainly not gone to +Scotland." + +"And what has been done, what has been attempted, to recover her?" + +"My father is gone to London, and Jane has written to beg my uncle's +immediate assistance, and we shall be off, I hope, in half an hour. 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 even to be discovered? I have +not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible!" + +Darcy shook his head in silent acquiesence. + +"When _my_ eyes were opened to his real character.--Oh! had I known what +I ought, what I dared, to do! But I knew not--I was afraid of doing too +much. Wretched, wretched, mistake!" + +Darcy made no answer. He seemed scarcely to hear her, and was walking up +and down the room in earnest meditation; his brow contracted, his air +gloomy. Elizabeth soon observed, and instantly understood it. Her power +was sinking; every thing _must_ sink under such a proof of family +weakness, such an assurance of the deepest disgrace. She could neither +wonder nor condemn, but the belief of his self-conquest brought nothing +consolatory to her bosom, afforded no palliation of her distress. It +was, on the contrary, exactly calculated to make her understand her own +wishes; and never had she so honestly felt that she could have loved +him, as now, when all love must be vain. + +But self, though it would intrude, could not engross her. Lydia--the +humiliation, the misery, she was bringing on them all, soon swallowed up +every private care; and covering her face with her handkerchief, +Elizabeth was soon lost to every thing else; and, after a pause of +several minutes, was only recalled to a sense of her situation by the +voice of her companion, who, in a manner, which though it spoke +compassion, spoke likewise restraint, said, "I am afraid you have been +long desiring my absence, nor have I any thing to plead in excuse of my +stay, but real, though unavailing, concern. Would to heaven that any +thing could be either said or done on my part, that might offer +consolation to such distress.--But I will not torment you with vain +wishes, which may seem purposely to ask for your thanks. This +unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister's having the pleasure +of seeing you at Pemberley to-day." + +"Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologize for us to Miss Darcy. Say that +urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as +long as it is possible.--I know it cannot be long." + +He readily assured her of his secrecy--again expressed his sorrow for +her distress, wished it a happier conclusion than there was at present +reason to hope, and leaving his compliments for her relations, with only +one serious, parting, look, went away. + +As he quitted the room, Elizabeth felt how improbable it was that they +should ever see each other again on such terms of cordiality as had +marked their several meetings in Derbyshire; and as she threw a +retrospective glance over the whole of their acquaintance, so full of +contradictions and varieties, sighed at the perverseness of those +feelings which would now have promoted its continuance, and would +formerly have rejoiced in its termination. + +If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection, Elizabeth's +change of sentiment will be neither improbable nor faulty. But if +otherwise, if the regard springing from such sources is unreasonable or +unnatural, in comparison of what is so often described as arising on a +first interview with its object, and even before two words have been +exchanged, nothing can be said in her defence, except that she had given +somewhat of a trial to the latter method, in her partiality for Wickham, +and that its ill-success might perhaps authorise her to seek the other +less interesting mode of attachment. Be that as it may, she saw him go +with regret; and in this early example of what Lydia's infamy must +produce, found additional anguish as she reflected on that wretched +business. Never, since reading Jane's second letter, had she entertained +a hope of Wickham's meaning to marry her. No one but Jane, she thought, +could flatter herself with such an expectation. Surprise was the least +of her feelings on this developement. While the contents of the first +letter remained on her mind, she was all surprise--all astonishment that +Wickham should marry a girl, whom it was impossible he could marry for +money; and how Lydia could ever have attached him, had appeared +incomprehensible. But now it was all too natural. For such an attachment +as this, she might have sufficient charms; and though she did not +suppose Lydia to be deliberately engaging in an elopement, without the +intention of marriage, she had no difficulty in believing that neither +her virtue nor her understanding would preserve her from falling an easy +prey. + +She had never perceived, while the regiment was in Hertfordshire, that +Lydia had any partiality for him, but she was convinced that Lydia had +wanted only encouragement to attach herself to any body. Sometimes one +officer, sometimes another had been her favourite, as their attentions +raised them in her opinion. Her affections had been continually +fluctuating, but never without an object. The mischief of neglect and +mistaken indulgence towards such a girl.--Oh! how acutely did she now +feel it. + +She was wild to be at home--to hear, to see, to be upon the spot, to +share with Jane in the cares that must now fall wholly upon her, in a +family so deranged; a father absent, a mother incapable of exertion, and +requiring constant attendance; and though almost persuaded that nothing +could be done for Lydia, her uncle's interference seemed of the utmost +importance, and till he entered the room, the misery of her impatience +was severe. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had hurried back in alarm, supposing, +by the servant's account, that their niece was taken suddenly ill;--but +satisfying them instantly on that head, she eagerly communicated the +cause of their summons, reading the two letters aloud, and dwelling on +the postscript of the last, with trembling energy.--Though Lydia had +never been a favourite with them, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner could not but be +deeply affected. Not Lydia only, but all were concerned in it; and after +the first exclamations of surprise and horror, Mr. Gardiner readily +promised every assistance in his power.--Elizabeth, though expecting no +less, thanked him with tears of gratitude; and all three being actuated +by one spirit, every thing relating to their journey was speedily +settled. They were to be off as soon as possible. "But what is to be +done about Pemberley?" cried Mrs. Gardiner. "John told us Mr. Darcy was +here when you sent for us;--was it so?" + +"Yes; and I told him we should not be able to keep our engagement. +_That_ is all settled." + +"That is all settled;" repeated the other, as she ran into her room to +prepare. "And are they upon such terms as for her to disclose the real +truth! Oh, that I knew how it was!" + +But wishes were vain; or at best could serve only to amuse her in the +hurry and confusion of the following hour. Had Elizabeth been at leisure +to be idle, she would have remained certain that all employment was +impossible to one so wretched as herself; but she had her share of +business as well as her aunt, and amongst the rest there were notes to +be written to all their friends in Lambton, with false excuses for their +sudden departure. An hour, however, saw the whole completed; and Mr. +Gardiner meanwhile having settled his account at the inn, nothing +remained to be done but to go; and Elizabeth, after all the misery of +the morning, found herself, in a shorter space of time than she could +have supposed, seated in the carriage, and on the road to Longbourn. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"I have been thinking it over again, Elizabeth," said her uncle, as they +drove from the town; "and really, upon serious consideration, I am much +more inclined than I was to judge as your eldest sister does of the +matter. It appears to me so very unlikely, that any young man should +form such a design against a girl who is by no means unprotected or +friendless, and who was actually staying in his colonel's family, that I +am strongly inclined to hope the best. Could he expect that her friends +would not step forward? Could he expect to be noticed again by the +regiment, after such an affront to Colonel Forster? His temptation is +not adequate to the risk." + +"Do you really think so?" cried Elizabeth, brightening up for a moment. + +"Upon my word," said Mrs. Gardiner, "I begin to be of your uncle's +opinion. It is really too great a violation of decency, honour, and +interest, for him to be guilty of it. I cannot think so very ill of +Wickham. Can you, yourself, Lizzy, so wholly give him up, as to believe +him capable of it?" + +"Not perhaps of neglecting his own interest. But of every other neglect +I can believe him capable. If, indeed, it should be so! But I dare not +hope it. Why should they not go on to Scotland, if that had been the +case?" + +"In the first place," replied Mr. Gardiner, "there is no absolute proof +that they are not gone to Scotland." + +"Oh! but their removing from the chaise into an hackney coach is such a +presumption! And, besides, no traces of them were to be found on the +Barnet road." + +"Well, then--supposing them to be in London. They may be there, though +for the purpose of concealment, for no more exceptionable purpose. It is +not likely that money should be very abundant on either side; and it +might strike them that they could be more economically, though less +expeditiously, married in London, than in Scotland." + +"But why all this secrecy? Why any fear of detection? Why must their +marriage be private? Oh! no, no, this is not likely. His most particular +friend, you see by Jane's account, was persuaded of his never intending +to marry her. Wickham will never marry a woman without some money. He +cannot afford it. And what claims has Lydia, what attractions has she +beyond youth, health, and good humour, that could make him for her sake, +forego every chance of benefiting himself by marrying well? As to what +restraint the apprehension of disgrace in the corps might throw on a +dishonourable elopement with her, I am not able to judge; for I know +nothing of the effects that such a step might produce. But as to your +other objection, I am afraid it will hardly hold good. Lydia has no +brothers to step forward; and he might imagine, from my father's +behaviour, from his indolence and the little attention he has ever +seemed to give to what was going forward in his family, that _he_ would +do as little, and think as little about it, as any father could do, in +such a matter." + +"But can you think that Lydia is so lost to every thing but love of him, +as to consent to live with him on any other terms than marriage?" + +"It does seem, and it is most shocking indeed," replied Elizabeth, with +tears in her eyes, "that a sister's sense of decency and virtue in such +a point should admit of doubt. But, really, I know not what to say. +Perhaps I am not doing her justice. But she is very young; she has never +been taught to think on serious subjects; and for the last half year, +nay, for a twelvemonth, she has been given up to nothing but amusement +and vanity. She has been allowed to dispose of her time in the most idle +and frivolous manner, and to adopt any opinions that came in her way. +Since the ----shire were first quartered in Meryton, nothing but love, +flirtation, and officers, have been in her head. She has been doing +every thing in her power by thinking and talking on the subject, to give +greater--what shall I call it? susceptibility to her feelings; which are +naturally lively enough. And we all know that Wickham has every charm of +person and address that can captivate a woman." + +"But you see that Jane," said her aunt, "does not think so ill of +Wickham, as to believe him capable of the attempt." + +"Of whom does Jane ever think ill? And who is there, whatever might be +their former conduct, that she would believe capable of such an attempt, +till it were proved against them? But Jane knows, as well as I do, what +Wickham really is. We both know that he has been profligate in every +sense of the word. That he has neither integrity nor honour. That he is +as false and deceitful, as he is insinuating." + +"And do you really know all this?" cried Mrs. Gardiner, whose curiosity +as to the mode of her intelligence was all alive. + +"I do, indeed," replied Elizabeth, colouring. "I told you the other day, +of his infamous behaviour to Mr. Darcy; and you, yourself, when last at +Longbourn, heard in what manner he spoke of the man, who had behaved +with such forbearance and liberality towards him. And there are other +circumstances which I am not at liberty--which it is not worth while to +relate; but his lies about the whole Pemberley family are endless. From +what he said of Miss Darcy, I was thoroughly prepared to see a proud, +reserved, disagreeable girl. Yet he knew to the contrary himself. He +must know that she was as amiable and unpretending as we have found +her." + +"But does Lydia know nothing of this? Can she be ignorant of what you +and Jane seem so well to understand?" + +"Oh, yes!--that, that is the worst of all. Till I was in Kent, and saw +so much both of Mr. Darcy and his relation, Colonel Fitzwilliam, I was +ignorant of the truth myself. And when I returned home, the ----shire +was to leave Meryton in a week or fortnight's time. As that was the +case, neither Jane, to whom I related the whole, nor I, thought it +necessary to make our knowledge public; for of what use could it +apparently be to any one, that the good opinion which all the +neighbourhood had of him, should then be overthrown? And even when it +was settled that Lydia should go with Mrs. Forster, the necessity of +opening her eyes to his character never occurred to me. That _she_ could +be in any danger from the deception never entered my head. That such a +consequence as _this_ should ensue, you may easily believe was far +enough from my thoughts." + +"When they all removed to Brighton, therefore, you had no reason, I +suppose, to believe them fond of each other." + +"Not the slightest. I can remember no symptom of affection on either +side; and had any thing of the kind been perceptible, you must be aware +that ours is not a family, on which it could be thrown away. When first +he entered the corps, she was ready enough to admire him; but so we all +were. Every girl in, or near Meryton, was out of her senses about him +for the first two months; but he never distinguished _her_ by any +particular attention, and, consequently, after a moderate period of +extravagant and wild admiration, her fancy for him gave way, and others +of the regiment, who treated her with more distinction, again became her +favourites." + + * * * * * + +It may be easily believed, that however little of novelty could be added +to their fears, hopes, and conjectures, on this interesting subject, by +its repeated discussion, no other could detain them from it long, during +the whole of the journey. From Elizabeth's thoughts it was never absent. +Fixed there by the keenest of all anguish, self reproach, she could find +no interval of ease or forgetfulness. + +They travelled as expeditiously as possible; and sleeping one night on +the road, reached Longbourn by dinner-time the next day. It was a +comfort to Elizabeth to consider that Jane could not have been wearied +by long expectations. + +The little Gardiners, attracted by the sight of a chaise, were standing +on the steps of the house, as they entered the paddock; and when the +carriage drove up to the door, the joyful surprise that lighted up their +faces, and displayed itself over their whole bodies, in a variety of +capers and frisks, was the first pleasing earnest of their welcome. + +Elizabeth jumped out; and, after giving each of them an hasty kiss, +hurried into the vestibule, where Jane, who came running down stairs +from her mother's apartment, immediately met her. + +Elizabeth, as she affectionately embraced her, whilst tears filled the +eyes of both, lost not a moment in asking whether any thing had been +heard of the fugitives. + +"Not yet," replied Jane. "But now that my dear uncle is come, I hope +every thing will be well." + +"Is my father in town?" + +"Yes, he went on Tuesday as I wrote you word." + +"And have you heard from him often?" + +"We have heard only once. He wrote me a few lines on Wednesday, to say +that he had arrived in safety, and to give me his directions, which I +particularly begged him to do. He merely added, that he should not write +again, till he had something of importance to mention." + +"And my mother--How is she? How are you all?" + +"My mother is tolerably well, I trust; though her spirits are greatly +shaken. She is up stairs, and will have great satisfaction in seeing you +all. She does not yet leave her dressing-room. Mary and Kitty, thank +Heaven! are quite well." + +"But you--How are you?" cried Elizabeth. "You look pale. How much you +must have gone through!" + +Her sister, however, assured her, of her being perfectly well; and their +conversation, which had been passing while Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were +engaged with their children, was now put an end to, by the approach of +the whole party. Jane ran to her uncle and aunt, and welcomed and +thanked them both, with alternate smiles and tears. + +When they were all in the drawing-room, the questions which Elizabeth +had already asked, were of course repeated by the others, and they soon +found that Jane had no intelligence to give. The sanguine hope of good, +however, which the benevolence of her heart suggested, had not yet +deserted her; she still expected that it would all end well, and that +every morning would bring some letter, either from Lydia or her father, +to explain their proceedings, and perhaps announce the marriage. + +Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few minutes +conversation together, received them exactly as might be expected; with +tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villanous +conduct of Wickham, and complaints of her own sufferings and ill usage; +blaming every body but the person to whose ill judging indulgence the +errors of her daughter must be principally owing. + +"If I had been able," said she, "to carry my point of going to Brighton, +with all my family, _this_ would not have happened; but poor dear Lydia +had nobody to take care of her. Why did the Forsters ever let her go out +of their sight? I am sure there was some great neglect or other on their +side, for she is not the kind of girl to do such a thing, if she had +been well looked after. I always thought they were very unfit to have +the charge of her; but I was over-ruled, as I always am. Poor dear +child! And now here's Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will fight +Wickham, wherever he meets him, and then he will be killed, and what is +to become of us all? The Collinses will turn us out, before he is cold +in his grave; and if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know what +we shall do." + +They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas; and Mr. Gardiner, after +general assurances of his affection for her and all her family, told +her that he meant to be in London the very next day, and would assist +Mr. Bennet in every endeavour for recovering Lydia. + +"Do not give way to useless alarm," added he, "though it is right to be +prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain. +It is not quite a week since they left Brighton. In a few days more, we +may gain some news of them, and till we know that they are not married, +and have no design of marrying, do not let us give the matter over as +lost. As soon as I get to town, I shall go to my brother, and make him +come home with me to Gracechurch Street, and then we may consult +together as to what is to be done." + +"Oh! my dear brother," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that is exactly what I +could most wish for. And now do, when you get to town, find them out, +wherever they may be; and if they are not married already, _make_ them +marry. And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, but +tell Lydia she shall have as much money as she chuses, to buy them, +after they are married. And, above all things, keep Mr. Bennet from +fighting. Tell him what a dreadful state I am in,--that I am frightened +out of my wits; and have such tremblings, such flutterings, all over me, +such spasms in my side, and pains in my head, and such beatings at +heart, that I can get no rest by night nor by day. And tell my dear +Lydia, not to give any directions about her clothes, till she has seen +me, for she does not know which are the best warehouses. Oh, brother, +how kind you are! I know you will contrive it all." + +But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again of his earnest endeavours +in the cause, could not avoid recommending moderation to her, as well in +her hopes as her fears; and, after talking with her in this manner till +dinner was on table, they left her to vent all her feelings on the +housekeeper, who attended, in the absence of her daughters. + +Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was no real +occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did not attempt to +oppose it, for they knew that she had not prudence enough to hold her +tongue before the servants, while they waited at table, and judged it +better that _one_ only of the household, and the one whom they could +most trust, should comprehend all her fears and solicitude on the +subject. + +In the dining-room they were soon joined by Mary and Kitty, who had been +too busily engaged in their separate apartments, to make their +appearance before. One came from her books, and the other from her +toilette. The faces of both, however, were tolerably calm; and no change +was visible in either, except that the loss of her favourite sister, or +the anger which she had herself incurred in the business, had given +something more of fretfulness than usual, to the accents of Kitty. As +for Mary, she was mistress enough of herself to whisper to Elizabeth +with a countenance of grave reflection, soon after they were seated at +table, + +"This is a most unfortunate affair; and will probably be much talked of. +But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into the wounded bosoms of +each other, the balm of sisterly consolation." + +Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, she added, +"Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw from it this useful +lesson; that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable--that one false +step involves her in endless ruin--that her reputation is no less +brittle than it is beautiful,--and that she cannot be too much guarded +in her behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex." + +Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much oppressed to +make any reply. Mary, however, continued to console herself with such +kind of moral extractions from the evil before them. + +In the afternoon, the two elder Miss Bennets were able to be for half an +hour by themselves; and Elizabeth instantly availed herself of the +opportunity of making many enquiries, which Jane was equally eager to +satisfy. After joining in general lamentations over the dreadful sequel +of this event, which Elizabeth considered as all but certain, and Miss +Bennet could not assert to be wholly impossible; the former continued +the subject, by saying, "But tell me all and every thing about it, which +I have not already heard. Give me farther particulars. What did Colonel +Forster say? Had they no apprehension of any thing before the elopement +took place? They must have seen them together for ever." + +"Colonel Forster did own that he had often suspected some partiality, +especially on Lydia's side, but nothing to give him any alarm. I am so +grieved for him. His behaviour was attentive and kind to the utmost. He +_was_ coming to us, in order to assure us of his concern, before he had +any idea of their not being gone to Scotland: when that apprehension +first got abroad, it hastened his journey." + +"And was Denny convinced that Wickham would not marry? Did he know of +their intending to go off? Had Colonel Forster seen Denny himself?" + +"Yes; but when questioned by _him_ Denny denied knowing any thing of +their plan, and would not give his real opinion about it. He did not +repeat his persuasion of their not marrying--and from _that_, I am +inclined to hope, he might have been misunderstood before." + +"And till Colonel Forster came himself, not one of you entertained a +doubt, I suppose, of their being really married?" + +"How was it possible that such an idea should enter our brains! I felt a +little uneasy--a little fearful of my sister's happiness with him in +marriage, because I knew that his conduct had not been always quite +right. My father and mother knew nothing of that, they only felt how +imprudent a match it must be. Kitty then owned, with a very natural +triumph on knowing more than the rest of us, that in Lydia's last +letter, she had prepared her for such a step. She had known, it seems, +of their being in love with each other, many weeks." + +"But not before they went to Brighton?" + +"No, I believe not." + +"And did Colonel Forster appear to think ill of Wickham himself? Does he +know his real character?" + +"I must confess that he did not speak so well of Wickham as he formerly +did. He believed him to be imprudent and extravagant. And since this sad +affair has taken place, it is said, that he left Meryton greatly in +debt; but I hope this may be false." + +"Oh, Jane, had we been less secret, had we told what we knew of him, +this could not have happened!" + +"Perhaps it would have been better;" replied her sister. "But to expose +the former faults of any person, without knowing what their present +feelings were, seemed unjustifiable. We acted with the best intentions." + +"Could Colonel Forster repeat the particulars of Lydia's note to his +wife?" + +"He brought it with him for us to see." + +Jane then took it from her pocket-book, and gave it to Elizabeth. These +were the contents: + + "MY DEAR HARRIET, + + "You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help + laughing myself at your surprise to-morrow morning, as soon as I am + missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with + who, I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the + world I love, and he is an angel. I should never be happy without + him, so think it no harm to be off. You need not send them word at + Longbourn of my going, if you do not like it, for it will make the + surprise the greater, when I write to them, and sign my name Lydia + Wickham. What a good joke it will be! I can hardly write for + laughing. Pray make my excuses to Pratt, for not keeping my + engagement, and dancing with him to-night. Tell him I hope he will + excuse me when he knows all, and tell him I will dance with him at + the next ball we meet, with great pleasure. I shall send for my + clothes when I get to Longbourn; but I wish you would tell Sally + to mend a great slit in my worked muslin gown, before they are + packed up. Good bye. Give my love to Colonel Forster, I hope you + will drink to our good journey. + + "Your affectionate friend, + + "LYDIA BENNET." + +"Oh! thoughtless, thoughtless Lydia!" cried Elizabeth when she had +finished it. "What a letter is this, to be written at such a moment. But +at least it shews, that _she_ was serious in the object of her journey. +Whatever he might afterwards persuade her to, it was not on her side a +_scheme_ of infamy. My poor father! how he must have felt it!" + +"I never saw any one so shocked. He could not speak a word for full ten +minutes. My mother was taken ill immediately, and the whole house in +such confusion!" + +"Oh! Jane," cried Elizabeth, "was there a servant belonging to it, who +did not know the whole story before the end of the day?" + +"I do not know.--I hope there was.--But to be guarded at such a time, is +very difficult. My mother was in hysterics, and though I endeavoured to +give her every assistance in my power, I am afraid I did not do so much +as I might have done! But the horror of what might possibly happen, +almost took from me my faculties." + +"Your attendance upon her, has been too much for you. You do not look +well. Oh! that I had been with you, you have had every care and anxiety +upon yourself alone." + +"Mary and Kitty have been very kind, and would have shared in every +fatigue, I am sure, but I did not think it right for either of them. +Kitty is slight and delicate, and Mary studies so much, that her hours +of repose should not be broken in on. My aunt Philips came to Longbourn +on Tuesday, after my father went away; and was so good as to stay till +Thursday with me. She was of great use and comfort to us all, and lady +Lucas has been very kind; she walked here on Wednesday morning to +condole with us, and offered her services, or any of her daughters, if +they could be of use to us." + +"She had better have stayed at home," cried Elizabeth; "perhaps she +_meant_ well, but, under such a misfortune as this, one cannot see too +little of one's neighbours. Assistance is impossible; condolence, +insufferable. Let them triumph over us at a distance, and be satisfied." + +She then proceeded to enquire into the measures which her father had +intended to pursue, while in town, for the recovery of his daughter. + +"He meant, I believe," replied Jane, "to go to Epsom, the place where +they last changed horses, see the postilions, and try if any thing could +be made out from them. His principal object must be, to discover the +number of the hackney coach which took them from Clapham. It had come +with a fare from London; and as he thought the circumstance of a +gentleman and lady's removing from one carriage into another, might be +remarked, he meant to make enquiries at Clapham. If he could any how +discover at what house the coachman had before set down his fare, he +determined to make enquiries there, and hoped it might not be impossible +to find out the stand and number of the coach. I do not know of any +other designs that he had formed: but he was in such a hurry to be gone, +and his spirits so greatly discomposed, that I had difficulty in finding +out even so much as this." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +The whole party were in hopes of a letter from Mr. Bennet the next +morning, but the post came in without bringing a single line from him. +His family knew him to be on all common occasions, a most negligent and +dilatory correspondent, but at such a time, they had hoped for exertion. +They were forced to conclude, that he had no pleasing intelligence to +send, but even of _that_ they would have been glad to be certain. Mr. +Gardiner had waited only for the letters before he set off. + +When he was gone, they were certain at least of receiving constant +information of what was going on, and their uncle promised, at parting, +to prevail on Mr. Bennet to return to Longbourn, as soon as he could, to +the great consolation of his sister, who considered it as the only +security for her husband's not being killed in a duel. + +Mrs. Gardiner and the children were to remain in Hertfordshire a few +days longer, as the former thought her presence might be serviceable to +her nieces. She shared in their attendance on Mrs. Bennet, and was a +great comfort to them, in their hours of freedom. Their other aunt also +visited them frequently, and always, as she said, with the design of +cheering and heartening them up, though as she never came without +reporting some fresh instance of Wickham's extravagance or irregularity, +she seldom went away without leaving them more dispirited than she found +them. + +All Meryton seemed striving to blacken the man, who, but three months +before, had been almost an angel of light. He was declared to be in debt +to every tradesman in the place, and his intrigues, all honoured with +the title of seduction, had been extended into every tradesman's family. +Every body declared that he was the wickedest young man in the world; +and every body began to find out, that they had always distrusted the +appearance of his goodness. Elizabeth, though she did not credit above +half of what was said, believed enough to make her former assurance of +her sister's ruin still more certain; and even Jane, who believed still +less of it, became almost hopeless, more especially as the time was now +come, when if they had gone to Scotland, which she had never before +entirely despaired of, they must in all probability have gained some +news of them. + +Mr. Gardiner left Longbourn on Sunday; on Tuesday, his wife received a +letter from him; it told them, that on his arrival, he had immediately +found out his brother, and persuaded him to come to Gracechurch street. +That Mr. Bennet had been to Epsom and Clapham, before his arrival, but +without gaining any satisfactory information; and that he was now +determined to enquire at all the principal hotels in town, as Mr. Bennet +thought it possible they might have gone to one of them, on their first +coming to London, before they procured lodgings. Mr. Gardiner himself +did not expect any success from this measure, but as his brother was +eager in it, he meant to assist him in pursuing it. He added, that Mr. +Bennet seemed wholly disinclined at present, to leave London, and +promised to write again very soon. There was also a postscript to this +effect. + +"I have written to Colonel Forster to desire him to find out, if +possible, from some of the young man's intimates in the regiment, +whether Wickham has any relations or connections, who would be likely to +know in what part of the town he has now concealed himself. If there +were any one, that one could apply to, with a probability of gaining +such a clue as that, it might be of essential consequence. At present we +have nothing to guide us. Colonel Forster will, I dare say, do every +thing in his power to satisfy us on this head. But, on second thoughts, +perhaps Lizzy could tell us, what relations he has now living, better +than any other person." + +Elizabeth was at no loss to understand from whence this deference for +her authority proceeded; but it was not in her power to give any +information of so satisfactory a nature, as the compliment deserved. + +She had never heard of his having had any relations, except a father and +mother, both of whom had been dead many years. It was possible, however, +that some of his companions in the ----shire, might be able to give more +information; and, though she was not very sanguine in expecting it, the +application was a something to look forward to. + +Every day at Longbourn was now a day of anxiety; but the most anxious +part of each was when the post was expected. The arrival of letters was +the first grand object of every morning's impatience. Through letters, +whatever of good or bad was to be told, would be communicated, and every +succeeding day was expected to bring some news of importance. + +But before they heard again from Mr. Gardiner, a letter arrived for +their father, from a different quarter, from Mr. Collins; which, as Jane +had received directions to open all that came for him in his absence, +she accordingly read; and Elizabeth, who knew what curiosities his +letters always were, looked over her, and read it likewise. It was as +follows: + + "MY DEAR SIR, + + "I feel myself called upon, by our relationship, and my situation + in life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are now + suffering under, of which we were yesterday informed by a letter + from Hertfordshire. Be assured, my dear Sir, that Mrs. Collins and + myself sincerely sympathise with you, and all your respectable + family, in your present distress, which must be of the bitterest + kind, because proceeding from a cause which no time can remove. No + arguments shall be wanting on my part, that can alleviate so severe + a misfortune; or that may comfort you, under a circumstance that + must be of all others most afflicting to a parent's mind. The death + of your daughter would have been a blessing in comparison of this. + And it is the more to be lamented, because there is reason to + suppose, as my dear Charlotte informs me, that this licentiousness + of behaviour in your daughter, has proceeded from a faulty degree + of indulgence, though, at the same time, for the consolation of + yourself and Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined to think that her own + disposition must be naturally bad, or she could not be guilty of + such an enormity, at so early an age. Howsoever that may be, you + are grievously to be pitied, in which opinion I am not only joined + by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by lady Catherine and her daughter, + to whom I have related the affair. They agree with me in + apprehending that this false step in one daughter, will be + injurious to the fortunes of all the others, for who, as lady + Catherine herself condescendingly says, will connect themselves + with such a family. And this consideration leads me moreover to + reflect with augmented satisfaction on a certain event of last + November, for had it been otherwise, I must have been involved in + all your sorrow and disgrace. Let me advise you then, my dear Sir, + to console yourself as much as possible, to throw off your unworthy + child from your affection for ever, and leave her to reap the + fruits of her own heinous offence. + + "I am, dear Sir, &c. &c." + +Mr. Gardiner did not write again, till he had received an answer from +Colonel Forster; and then he had nothing of a pleasant nature to send. +It was not known that Wickham had a single relation, with whom he kept +up any connection, and it was certain that he had no near one living. +His former acquaintance had been numerous; but since he had been in the +militia, it did not appear that he was on terms of particular friendship +with any of them. There was no one therefore who could be pointed out, +as likely to give any news of him. And in the wretched state of his own +finances, there was a very powerful motive for secrecy, in addition to +his fear of discovery by Lydia's relations, for it had just transpired +that he had left gaming debts behind him, to a very considerable +amount. Colonel Forster believed that more than a thousand pounds would +be necessary to clear his expences at Brighton. He owed a good deal in +the town, but his debts of honour were still more formidable. Mr. +Gardiner did not attempt to conceal these particulars from the Longbourn +family; Jane heard them with horror. "A gamester!" she cried. "This is +wholly unexpected. I had not an idea of it." + +Mr. Gardiner added in his letter, that they might expect to see their +father at home on the following day, which was Saturday. Rendered +spiritless by the ill-success of all their endeavours, he had yielded to +his brother-in-law's intreaty that he would return to his family, and +leave it to him to do, whatever occasion might suggest to be advisable +for continuing their pursuit. When Mrs. Bennet was told of this, she did +not express so much satisfaction as her children expected, considering +what her anxiety for his life had been before. + +"What, is he coming home, and without poor Lydia!" she cried. "Sure he +will not leave London before he has found them. Who is to fight Wickham, +and make him marry her, if he comes away?" + +As Mrs. Gardiner began to wish to be at home, it was settled that she +and her children should go to London, at the same time that Mr. Bennet +came from it. The coach, therefore, took them the first stage of their +journey, and brought its master back to Longbourn. + +Mrs. Gardiner went away in all the perplexity about Elizabeth and her +Derbyshire friend, that had attended her from that part of the world. +His name had never been voluntarily mentioned before them by her niece; +and the kind of half-expectation which Mrs. Gardiner had formed, of +their being followed by a letter from him, had ended in nothing. +Elizabeth had received none since her return, that could come from +Pemberley. + +The present unhappy state of the family, rendered any other excuse for +the lowness of her spirits unnecessary; nothing, therefore, could be +fairly conjectured from _that_, though Elizabeth, who was by this time +tolerably well acquainted with her own feelings, was perfectly aware, +that, had she known nothing of Darcy, she could have borne the dread of +Lydia's infamy somewhat better. It would have spared her, she thought, +one sleepless night out of two. + +When Mr. Bennet arrived, he had all the appearance of his usual +philosophic composure. He said as little as he had ever been in the +habit of saying; made no mention of the business that had taken him +away, and it was some time before his daughters had courage to speak of +it. + +It was not till the afternoon, when he joined them at tea, that +Elizabeth ventured to introduce the subject; and then, on her briefly +expressing her sorrow for what he must have endured, he replied, "Say +nothing of that. Who should suffer but myself? It has been my own doing, +and I ought to feel it." + +"You must not be too severe upon yourself," replied Elizabeth. + +"You may well warn me against such an evil. Human nature is so prone to +fall into it! No, Lizzy, let me once in my life feel how much I have +been to blame. I am not afraid of being overpowered by the impression. +It will pass away soon enough." + +"Do you suppose them to be in London?" + +"Yes; where else can they be so well concealed?" + +"And Lydia used to want to go to London," added Kitty. + +"She is happy, then," said her father, drily; "and her residence there +will probably be of some duration." + +Then, after a short silence, he continued, "Lizzy, I bear you no +ill-will for being justified in your advice to me last May, which, +considering the event, shews some greatness of mind." + +They were interrupted by Miss Bennet, who came to fetch her mother's +tea. + +"This is a parade," cried he, "which does one good; it gives such an +elegance to misfortune! Another day I will do the same; I will sit in +my library, in my night cap and powdering gown, and give as much trouble +as I can,--or, perhaps, I may defer it, till Kitty runs away." + +"I am not going to run away, Papa," said Kitty, fretfully; "if _I_ +should ever go to Brighton, I would behave better than Lydia." + +"_You_ go to Brighton!--I would not trust you so near it as East Bourne +for fifty pounds! No, Kitty, I have at last learnt to be cautious, and +you will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever to enter my house +again, nor even to pass through the village. Balls will be absolutely +prohibited, unless you stand up with one of your sisters. And you are +never to stir out of doors, till you can prove, that you have spent ten +minutes of every day in a rational manner." + +Kitty, who took all these threats in a serious light, began to cry. + +"Well, well," said he, "do not make yourself unhappy. If you are a good +girl for the next ten years, I will take you to a review at the end of +them." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Two days after Mr. Bennet's return, as Jane and Elizabeth were walking +together in the shrubbery behind the house, they saw the housekeeper +coming towards them, and, concluding that she came to call them to their +mother, went forward to meet her; but, instead of the expected summons, +when they approached her, she said to Miss Bennet, "I beg your pardon, +madam, for interrupting you, but I was in hopes you might have got some +good news from town, so I took the liberty of coming to ask." + +"What do you mean, Hill? We have heard nothing from town." + +"Dear madam," cried Mrs. Hill, in great astonishment, "don't you know +there is an express come for master from Mr. Gardiner? He has been here +this half hour, and master has had a letter." + +Away ran the girls, too eager to get in to have time for speech. They +ran through the vestibule into the breakfast room; from thence to the +library;--their father was in neither; and they were on the point of +seeking him up stairs with their mother, when they were met by the +butler, who said, + +"If you are looking for my master, ma'am, he is walking towards the +little copse." + +Upon this information, they instantly passed through the hall once more, +and ran across the lawn after their father, who was deliberately +pursuing his way towards a small wood on one side of the paddock. + +Jane, who was not so light, nor so much in the habit of running as +Elizabeth, soon lagged behind, while her sister, panting for breath, +came up with him, and eagerly cried out, + +"Oh, Papa, what news? what news? have you heard from my uncle?" + +"Yes, I have had a letter from him by express." + +"Well, and what news does it bring? good or bad?" + +"What is there of good to be expected?" said he, taking the letter from +his pocket; "but perhaps you would like to read it." + +Elizabeth impatiently caught it from his hand. Jane now came up. + +"Read it aloud," said their father, "for I hardly know myself what it is +about." + + "Gracechurch-street, Monday, + + August 2. + + "MY DEAR BROTHER, + + "At last I am able to send you some tidings of my niece, and such + as, upon the whole, I hope will give you satisfaction. Soon after + you left me on Saturday, I was fortunate enough to find out in what + part of London they were. The particulars, I reserve till we meet. + It is enough to know they are discovered, I have seen them + both----" + +"Then it is, as I always hoped," cried Jane; "they are married!" + + Elizabeth read on; "I have seen them both. They are not married, + nor can I find there was any intention of being so; but if you are + willing to perform the engagements which I have ventured to make on + your side, I hope it will not be long before they are. All that is + required of you is, to assure to your daughter, by settlement, her + equal share of the five thousand pounds, secured among your + children after the decease of yourself and my sister; and, + moreover, to enter into an engagement of allowing her, during your + life, one hundred pounds per annum. These are conditions, which, + considering every thing, I had no hesitation in complying with, as + far as I thought myself privileged, for you. I shall send this by + express, that no time may be lost in bringing me your answer. You + will easily comprehend, from these particulars, that Mr. Wickham's + circumstances are not so hopeless as they are generally believed to + be. The world has been deceived in that respect; and I am happy to + say, there will be some little money, even when all his debts are + discharged, to settle on my niece, in addition to her own fortune. + If, as I conclude will be the case, you send me full powers to act + in your name, throughout the whole of this business, I will + immediately give directions to Haggerston for preparing a proper + settlement. There will not be the smallest occasion for your coming + to town again; therefore, stay quietly at Longbourn, and depend on + my diligence and care. Send back your answer as soon as you can, + and be careful to write explicitly. We have judged it best, that my + niece should be married from this house, of which I hope you will + approve. She comes to us to-day. I shall write again as soon as any + thing more is determined on. Your's, &c. + + "EDW. GARDINER." + +"Is it possible!" cried Elizabeth, when she had finished. "Can it be +possible that he will marry her?" + +"Wickham is not so undeserving, then, as we have thought him;" said her +sister. "My dear father, I congratulate you." + +"And have you answered the letter?" said Elizabeth. + +"No; but it must be done soon." + +Most earnestly did she then intreat him to lose no more time before he +wrote. + +"Oh! my dear father," she cried, "come back, and write immediately. +Consider how important every moment is, in such a case." + +"Let me write for you," said Jane, "if you dislike the trouble +yourself." + +"I dislike it very much," he replied; "but it must be done." + +And so saying, he turned back with them, and walked towards the house. + +"And may I ask?" said Elizabeth, "but the terms, I suppose, must be +complied with." + +"Complied with! I am only ashamed of his asking so little." + +"And they _must_ marry! Yet he is _such_ a man!" + +"Yes, yes, they must marry. There is nothing else to be done. But there +are two things that I want very much to know:--one is, how much money +your uncle has laid down, to bring it about; and the other, how I am +ever to pay him." + +"Money! my uncle!" cried Jane, "what do you mean, Sir?" + +"I mean, that no man in his senses, would marry Lydia on so slight a +temptation as one hundred a-year during my life, and fifty after I am +gone." + +"That is very true," said Elizabeth; "though it had not occurred to me +before. His debts to be discharged, and something still to remain! Oh! +it must be my uncle's doings! Generous, good man, I am afraid he has +distressed himself. A small sum could not do all this." + +"No," said her father, "Wickham's a fool, if he takes her with a +farthing less than ten thousand pounds. I should be sorry to think so +ill of him, in the very beginning of our relationship." + +"Ten thousand pounds! Heaven forbid! How is half such a sum to be +repaid?" + +Mr. Bennet made no answer, and each of them, deep in thought, continued +silent till they reached the house. Their father then went to the +library to write, and the girls walked into the breakfast-room. + +"And they are really to be married!" cried Elizabeth, as soon as they +were by themselves. "How strange this is! And for _this_ we are to be +thankful. That they should marry, small as is their chance of happiness, +and wretched as is his character, we are forced to rejoice! Oh, Lydia!" + +"I comfort myself with thinking," replied Jane, "that he certainly would +not marry Lydia, if he had not a real regard for her. Though our kind +uncle has done something towards clearing him, I cannot believe that ten +thousand pounds, or any thing like it, has been advanced. He has +children of his own, and may have more. How could he spare half ten +thousand pounds?" + +"If we are ever able to learn what Wickham's debts have been," said +Elizabeth, "and how much is settled on his side on our sister, we shall +exactly know what Mr. Gardiner has done for them, because Wickham has +not sixpence of his own. The kindness of my uncle and aunt can never be +requited. Their taking her home, and affording her their personal +protection and countenance, is such a sacrifice to her advantage, as +years of gratitude cannot enough acknowledge. By this time she is +actually with them! If such goodness does not make her miserable now, +she will never deserve to be happy! What a meeting for her, when she +first sees my aunt!" + +"We must endeavour to forget all that has passed on either side," said +Jane: "I hope and trust they will yet be happy. His consenting to marry +her is a proof, I will believe, that he is come to a right way of +thinking. Their mutual affection will steady them; and I flatter myself +they will settle so quietly, and live in so rational a manner, as may in +time make their past imprudence forgotten." + +"Their conduct has been such," replied Elizabeth, "as neither you, nor +I, nor any body, can ever forget. It is useless to talk of it." + +It now occurred to the girls that their mother was in all likelihood +perfectly ignorant of what had happened. They went to the library, +therefore, and asked their father, whether he would not wish them to +make it known to her. He was writing, and, without raising his head, +coolly replied, + +"Just as you please." + +"May we take my uncle's letter to read to her?" + +"Take whatever you like, and get away." + +Elizabeth took the letter from his writing table, and they went up +stairs together. Mary and Kitty were both with Mrs. Bennet: one +communication would, therefore, do for all. After a slight preparation +for good news, the letter was read aloud. Mrs. Bennet could hardly +contain herself. As soon as Jane had read Mr. Gardiner's hope of Lydia's +being soon married, her joy burst forth, and every following sentence +added to its exuberance. She was now in an irritation as violent from +delight, as she had ever been fidgetty from alarm and vexation. To know +that her daughter would be married was enough. She was disturbed by no +fear for her felicity, nor humbled by any remembrance of her misconduct. + +"My dear, dear Lydia!" she cried: "This is delightful indeed!--She will +be married!--I shall see her again!--She will be married at sixteen!--My +good, kind brother!--I knew how it would be--I knew he would manage +every thing. How I long to see her! and to see dear Wickham too! But the +clothes, the wedding clothes! I will write to my sister Gardiner about +them directly. Lizzy, my dear, run down to your father, and ask him how +much he will give her. Stay, stay, I will go myself. Ring the bell, +Kitty, for Hill. I will put on my things in a moment. My dear, dear +Lydia!--How merry we shall be together when we meet!" + +Her eldest daughter endeavoured to give some relief to the violence of +these transports, by leading her thoughts to the obligations which Mr. +Gardiner's behaviour laid them all under. + +"For we must attribute this happy conclusion," she added, "in a great +measure, to his kindness. We are persuaded that he has pledged himself +to assist Mr. Wickham with money." + +"Well," cried her mother, "it is all very right; who should do it but +her own uncle? If he had not had a family of his own, I and my children +must have had all his money you know, and it is the first time we have +ever had any thing from him, except a few presents. Well! I am so happy. +In a short time, I shall have a daughter married. Mrs. Wickham! How well +it sounds. And she was only sixteen last June. My dear Jane, I am in +such a flutter, that I am sure I can't write; so I will dictate, and you +write for me. We will settle with your father about the money +afterwards; but the things should be ordered immediately." + +She was then proceeding to all the particulars of calico, muslin, and +cambric, and would shortly have dictated some very plentiful orders, had +not Jane, though with some difficulty, persuaded her to wait, till her +father was at leisure to be consulted. One day's delay she observed, +would be of small importance; and her mother was too happy, to be quite +so obstinate as usual. Other schemes too came into her head. + +"I will go to Meryton," said she, "as soon as I am dressed, and tell the +good, good news to my sister Philips. And as I come back, I can call on +Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long. Kitty, run down and order the carriage. An +airing would do me a great deal of good, I am sure. Girls, can I do any +thing for you in Meryton? Oh! here comes Hill. My dear Hill, have you +heard the good news? Miss Lydia is going to be married; and you shall +all have a bowl of punch, to make merry at her wedding." + +Mrs. Hill began instantly to express her joy. Elizabeth received her +congratulations amongst the rest, and then, sick of this folly, took +refuge in her own room, that she might think with freedom. + +Poor Lydia's situation must, at best, be bad enough; but that it was no +worse, she had need to be thankful. She felt it so; and though, in +looking forward, neither rational happiness nor worldly prosperity, +could be justly expected for her sister; in looking back to what they +had feared, only two hours ago, she felt all the advantages of what they +had gained. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Mr. Bennet had very often wished, before this period of his life, that, +instead of spending his whole income, he had laid by an annual sum, for +the better provision of his children, and of his wife, if she survived +him. He now wished it more than ever. Had he done his duty in that +respect, Lydia need not have been indebted to her uncle, for whatever of +honour or credit could now be purchased for her. The satisfaction of +prevailing on one of the most worthless young men in Great Britain to be +her husband, might then have rested in its proper place. + +He was seriously concerned, that a cause of so little advantage to any +one, should be forwarded at the sole expence of his brother-in-law, and +he was determined, if possible, to find out the extent of his +assistance, and to discharge the obligation as soon as he could. + +When first Mr. Bennet had married, economy was held to be perfectly +useless; for, of course, they were to have a son. This son was to join +in cutting off the entail, as soon as he should be of age, and the widow +and younger children would by that means be provided for. Five daughters +successively entered the world, but yet the son was to come; and Mrs. +Bennet, for many years after Lydia's birth, had been certain that he +would. This event had at last been despaired of, but it was then too +late to be saving. Mrs. Bennet had no turn for economy, and her +husband's love of independence had alone prevented their exceeding their +income. + +Five thousand pounds was settled by marriage articles on Mrs. Bennet and +the children. But in what proportions it should be divided amongst the +latter, depended on the will of the parents. This was one point, with +regard to Lydia at least, which was now to be settled, and Mr. Bennet +could have no hesitation in acceding to the proposal before him. In +terms of grateful acknowledgment for the kindness of his brother, though +expressed most concisely, he then delivered on paper his perfect +approbation of all that was done, and his willingness to fulfil the +engagements that had been made for him. He had never before supposed +that, could Wickham be prevailed on to marry his daughter, it would be +done with so little inconvenience to himself, as by the present +arrangement. He would scarcely be ten pounds a-year the loser, by the +hundred that was to be paid them; for, what with her board and pocket +allowance, and the continual presents in money, which passed to her, +through her mother's hands, Lydia's expences had been very little within +that sum. + +That it would be done with such trifling exertion on his side, too, was +another very welcome surprise; for his chief wish at present, was to +have as little trouble in the business as possible. When the first +transports of rage which had produced his activity in seeking her were +over, he naturally returned to all his former indolence. His letter was +soon dispatched; for though dilatory in undertaking business, he was +quick in its execution. He begged to know farther particulars of what he +was indebted to his brother; but was too angry with Lydia, to send any +message to her. + +The good news quickly spread through the house; and with proportionate +speed through the neighbourhood. It was borne in the latter with decent +philosophy. To be sure it would have been more for the advantage of +conversation, had Miss Lydia Bennet come upon the town; or, as the +happiest alternative, been secluded from the world, in some distant farm +house. But there was much to be talked of, in marrying her; and the +good-natured wishes for her well-doing, which had proceeded before, from +all the spiteful old ladies in Meryton, lost but little of their spirit +in this change of circumstances, because with such an husband, her +misery was considered certain. + +It was a fortnight since Mrs. Bennet had been down stairs, but on this +happy day, she again took her seat at the head of her table, and in +spirits oppressively high. No sentiment of shame gave a damp to her +triumph. The marriage of a daughter, which had been the first object of +her wishes, since Jane was sixteen, was now on the point of +accomplishment, and her thoughts and her words ran wholly on those +attendants of elegant nuptials, fine muslins, new carriages, and +servants. She was busily searching through the neighbourhood for a +proper situation for her daughter, and, without knowing or considering +what their income might be, rejected many as deficient in size and +importance. + +"Haye-Park might do," said she, "if the Gouldings would quit it, or the +great house at Stoke, if the drawing-room were larger; but Ashworth is +too far off! I could not bear to have her ten miles from me; and as for +Purvis Lodge, the attics are dreadful." + +Her husband allowed her to talk on without interruption, while the +servants remained. But when they had withdrawn, he said to her, "Mrs. +Bennet, before you take any, or all of these houses, for your son and +daughter, let us come to a right understanding. Into _one_ house in this +neighbourhood, they shall never have admittance. I will not encourage +the impudence of either, by receiving them at Longbourn." + +A long dispute followed this declaration; but Mr. Bennet was firm: it +soon led to another; and Mrs. Bennet found, with amazement and horror, +that her husband would not advance a guinea to buy clothes for his +daughter. He protested that she should receive from him no mark of +affection whatever, on the occasion. Mrs. Bennet could hardly comprehend +it. That his anger could be carried to such a point of inconceivable +resentment, as to refuse his daughter a privilege, without which her +marriage would scarcely seem valid, exceeded all that she could believe +possible. She was more alive to the disgrace, which the want of new +clothes must reflect on her daughter's nuptials, than to any sense of +shame at her eloping and living with Wickham, a fortnight before they +took place. + +Elizabeth was now most heartily sorry that she had, from the distress of +the moment, been led to make Mr. Darcy acquainted with their fears for +her sister; for since her marriage would so shortly give the proper +termination to the elopement, they might hope to conceal its +unfavourable beginning, from all those who were not immediately on the +spot. + +She had no fear of its spreading farther, through his means. There were +few people on whose secrecy she would have more confidently depended; +but at the same time, there was no one, whose knowledge of a sister's +frailty would have mortified her so much. Not, however, from any fear of +disadvantage from it, individually to herself; for at any rate, there +seemed a gulf impassable between them. Had Lydia's marriage been +concluded on the most honourable terms, it was not to be supposed that +Mr. Darcy would connect himself with a family, where to every other +objection would now be added, an alliance and relationship of the +nearest kind with the man whom he so justly scorned. + +From such a connection she could not wonder that he should shrink. The +wish of procuring her regard, which she had assured herself of his +feeling in Derbyshire, could not in rational expectation survive such a +blow as this. She was humbled, she was grieved; she repented, though she +hardly knew of what. She became jealous of his esteem, when she could no +longer hope to be benefited by it. She wanted to hear of him, when there +seemed the least chance of gaining intelligence. She was convinced that +she could have been happy with him; when it was no longer likely they +should meet. + +What a triumph for him, as she often thought, could he know that the +proposals which she had proudly spurned only four months ago, would now +have been gladly and gratefully received! He was as generous, she +doubted not, as the most generous of his sex. But while he was mortal, +there must be a triumph. + +She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man, who, in +disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and +temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It +was an union that must have been to the advantage of both; by her ease +and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved, +and from his judgment, information, and knowledge of the world, she must +have received benefit of greater importance. + +But no such happy marriage could now teach the admiring multitude what +connubial felicity really was. An union of a different tendency, and +precluding the possibility of the other, was soon to be formed in their +family. + +How Wickham and Lydia were to be supported in tolerable independence, +she could not imagine. But how little of permanent happiness could +belong to a couple who were only brought together because their passions +were stronger than their virtue, she could easily conjecture. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Gardiner soon wrote again to his brother. To Mr. Bennet's +acknowledgments he briefly replied, with assurances of his eagerness to +promote the welfare of any of his family; and concluded with intreaties +that the subject might never be mentioned to him again. The principal +purport of his letter was to inform them, that Mr. Wickham had resolved +on quitting the Militia. + + "It was greatly my wish that he should do so," he added, "as soon + as his marriage was fixed on. And I think you will agree with me, + in considering a removal from that corps as highly advisable, both + on his account and my niece's. It is Mr. Wickham's intention to go + into the regulars; and, among his former friends, there are still + some who are able and willing to assist him in the army. He has the + promise of an ensigncy in General ----'s regiment, now quartered in + the North. It is an advantage to have it so far from this part of + the kingdom. He promises fairly, and I hope among different people, + where they may each have a character to preserve, they will both be + more prudent. I have written to Colonel Forster, to inform him of + our present arrangements, and to request that he will satisfy the + various creditors of Mr. Wickham in and near Brighton, with + assurances of speedy payment, for which I have pledged myself. And + will you give yourself the trouble of carrying similar assurances + to his creditors in Meryton, of whom I shall subjoin a list, + according to his information. He has given in all his debts; I hope + at least he has not deceived us. Haggerston has our directions, and + all will be completed in a week. They will then join his regiment, + unless they are first invited to Longbourn; and I understand from + Mrs. Gardiner, that my niece is very desirous of seeing you all, + before she leaves the South. She is well, and begs to be dutifully + remembered to you and her mother.--Your's, &c. + + "E. GARDINER." + +Mr. Bennet and his daughters saw all the advantages of Wickham's removal +from the ----shire, as clearly as Mr. Gardiner could do. But Mrs. +Bennet, was not so well pleased with it. Lydia's being settled in the +North, just when she had expected most pleasure and pride in her +company, for she had by no means given up her plan of their residing in +Hertfordshire, was a severe disappointment; and besides, it was such a +pity that Lydia should be taken from a regiment where she was acquainted +with every body, and had so many favourites. + +"She is so fond of Mrs. Forster," said she, "it will be quite shocking +to send her away! And there are several of the young men, too, that she +likes very much. The officers may not be so pleasant in General ----'s +regiment." + +His daughter's request, for such it might be considered, of being +admitted into her family again, before she set off for the North, +received at first an absolute negative. But Jane and Elizabeth, who +agreed in wishing, for the sake of their sister's feelings and +consequence, that she should be noticed on her marriage by her parents, +urged him so earnestly, yet so rationally and so mildly, to receive her +and her husband at Longbourn, as soon as they were married, that he was +prevailed on to think as they thought, and act as they wished. And their +mother had the satisfaction of knowing, that she should be able to shew +her married daughter in the neighbourhood, before she was banished to +the North. When Mr. Bennet wrote again to his brother, therefore, he +sent his permission for them to come; and it was settled, that as soon +as the ceremony was over, they should proceed to Longbourn. Elizabeth +was surprised, however, that Wickham should consent to such a scheme, +and, had she consulted only her own inclination, any meeting with him +would have been the last object of her wishes. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Their sister's wedding day arrived; and Jane and Elizabeth felt for her +probably more than she felt for herself. The carriage was sent to meet +them at ----, and they were to return in it, by dinner-time. Their +arrival was dreaded by the elder Miss Bennets; and Jane more especially, +who gave Lydia the feelings which would have attended herself, had _she_ +been the culprit, was wretched in the thought of what her sister must +endure. + +They came. The family were assembled in the breakfast room, to receive +them. Smiles decked the face of Mrs. Bennet, as the carriage drove up to +the door; her husband looked impenetrably grave; her daughters, alarmed, +anxious, uneasy. + +Lydia's voice was heard in the vestibule; the door was thrown open, and +she ran into the room. Her mother stepped forwards, embraced her, and +welcomed her with rapture; gave her hand with an affectionate smile to +Wickham, who followed his lady, and wished them both joy, with an +alacrity which shewed no doubt of their happiness. + +Their reception from Mr. Bennet, to whom they then turned, was not quite +so cordial. His countenance rather gained in austerity; and he scarcely +opened his lips. The easy assurance of the young couple, indeed, was +enough to provoke him. Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Miss Bennet was +shocked. Lydia was Lydia still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, and +fearless. She turned from sister to sister, demanding their +congratulations, and when at length they all sat down, looked eagerly +round the room, took notice of some little alteration in it, and +observed, with a laugh, that it was a great while since she had been +there. + +Wickham was not at all more distressed than herself, but his manners +were always so pleasing, that had his character and his marriage been +exactly what they ought, his smiles and his easy address, while he +claimed their relationship, would have delighted them all. Elizabeth had +not before believed him quite equal to such assurance; but she sat down, +resolving within herself, to draw no limits in future to the impudence +of an impudent man. _She_ blushed, and Jane blushed; but the cheeks of +the two who caused their confusion, suffered no variation of colour. + +There was no want of discourse. The bride and her mother could neither +of them talk fast enough; and Wickham, who happened to sit near +Elizabeth, began enquiring after his acquaintance in that neighbourhood, +with a good humoured ease, which she felt very unable to equal in her +replies. They seemed each of them to have the happiest memories in the +world. Nothing of the past was recollected with pain; and Lydia led +voluntarily to subjects, which her sisters would not have alluded to for +the world. + +"Only think of its being three months," she cried, "since I went away; +it seems but a fortnight I declare; and yet there have been things +enough happened in the time. Good gracious! when I went away, I am sure +I had no more idea of being married till I came back again! though I +thought it would be very good fun if I was." + +Her father lifted up his eyes. Jane was distressed. Elizabeth looked +expressively at Lydia; but she, who never heard nor saw any thing of +which she chose to be insensible, gaily continued, "Oh! mamma, do the +people here abouts know I am married to-day? I was afraid they might +not; and we overtook William Goulding in his curricle, so I was +determined he should know it, and so I let down the side glass next to +him, and took off my glove, and let my hand just rest upon the window +frame, so that he might see the ring, and then I bowed and smiled like +any thing." + +Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She got up, and ran out of the room; +and returned no more, till she heard them passing through the hall to +the dining-parlour. She then joined them soon enough to see Lydia, with +anxious parade, walk up to her mother's right hand, and hear her say to +her eldest sister, "Ah! Jane, I take your place now, and you must go +lower, because I am a married woman." + +It was not to be supposed that time would give Lydia that embarrassment, +from which she had been so wholly free at first. Her ease and good +spirits increased. She longed to see Mrs. Philips, the Lucases, and all +their other neighbours, and to hear herself called "Mrs. Wickham," by +each of them; and in the mean time, she went after dinner to shew her +ring and boast of being married, to Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids. + +"Well, mamma," said she, when they were all returned to the breakfast +room, "and what do you think of my husband? Is not he a charming man? I +am sure my sisters must all envy me. I only hope they may have half my +good luck. They must all go to Brighton. That is the place to get +husbands. What a pity it is, mamma, we did not all go." + +"Very true; and if I had my will, we should. But my dear Lydia, I don't +at all like your going such a way off. Must it be so?" + +"Oh, lord! yes;--there is nothing in that. I shall like it of all +things. You and papa, and my sisters, must come down and see us. We +shall be at Newcastle all the winter, and I dare say there will be some +balls, and I will take care to get good partners for them all." + +"I should like it beyond any thing!" said her mother. + +"And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sisters +behind you; and I dare say I shall get husbands for them before the +winter is over." + +"I thank you for my share of the favour," said Elizabeth; "but I do not +particularly like your way of getting husbands." + +Their visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Mr. Wickham +had received his commission before he left London, and he was to join +his regiment at the end of a fortnight. + +No one but Mrs. Bennet, regretted that their stay would be so short; and +she made the most of the time, by visiting about with her daughter, and +having very frequent parties at home. These parties were acceptable to +all; to avoid a family circle was even more desirable to such as did +think, than such as did not. + +Wickham's affection for Lydia, was just what Elizabeth had expected to +find it; not equal to Lydia's for him. She had scarcely needed her +present observation to be satisfied, from the reason of things, that +their elopement had been brought on by the strength of her love, rather +than by his; and she would have wondered why, without violently caring +for her, he chose to elope with her at all, had she not felt certain +that his flight was rendered necessary by distress of circumstances; and +if that were the case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunity +of having a companion. + +Lydia was exceedingly fond of him. He was her dear Wickham on every +occasion; no one was to be put in competition with him. He did every +thing best in the world; and she was sure he would kill more birds on +the first of September, than any body else in the country. + +One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her two +elder sisters, she said to Elizabeth, + +"Lizzy, I never gave _you_ an account of my wedding, I believe. You were +not by, when I told mamma, and the others, all about it. Are not you +curious to hear how it was managed?" + +"No really," replied Elizabeth; "I think there cannot be too little said +on the subject." + +"La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off. We were +married, you know, at St. Clement's, because Wickham's lodgings were in +that parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleven +o'clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together; and the others +were to meet us at the church. Well, Monday morning came, and I was in +such a fuss! I was so afraid you know that something would happen to put +it off, and then I should have gone quite distracted. And there was my +aunt, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as if +she was reading a sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in ten, +for I was thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. I longed to +know whether he would be married in his blue coat. + +"Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual; I thought it would never +be over; for, by the bye, you are to understand, that my uncle and aunt +were horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you'll believe +me, I did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there a +fortnight. Not one party, or scheme, or any thing. To be sure London was +rather thin, but however the little Theatre was open. Well, and so just +as the carriage came to the door, my uncle was called away upon business +to that horrid man Mr. Stone. And then, you know, when once they get +together, there is no end of it. Well, I was so frightened I did not +know what to do, for my uncle was to give me away; and if we were beyond +the hour, we could not be married all day. But, luckily, he came back +again in ten minutes time, and then we all set out. However, I +recollected afterwards, that if he _had_ been prevented going, the +wedding need not be put off, for Mr. Darcy might have done as well." + +"Mr. Darcy!" repeated Elizabeth, in utter amazement. + +"Oh, yes!--he was to come there with Wickham, you know. But gracious me! +I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I promised +them so faithfully! What will Wickham say? It was to be such a secret!" + +"If it was to be secret," said Jane, "say not another word on the +subject. You may depend upon my seeking no further." + +"Oh! certainly," said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity; "we will +ask you no questions." + +"Thank you," said Lydia, "for if you did, I should certainly tell you +all, and then Wickham would be angry." + +On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was forced to put it out of her +power, by running away. + +But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or at least it +was impossible not to try for information. Mr. Darcy had been at her +sister's wedding. It was exactly a scene, and exactly among people, +where he had apparently least to do, and least temptation to go. +Conjectures as to the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried into her +brain; but she was satisfied with none. Those that best pleased her, as +placing his conduct in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. She +could not bear such suspense; and hastily seizing a sheet of paper, +wrote a short letter to her aunt, to request an explanation of what +Lydia had dropt, if it were compatible with the secrecy which had been +intended. + +"You may readily comprehend," she added, "what my curiosity must be to +know how a person unconnected with any of us, and (comparatively +speaking) a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at such +a time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it--unless it is, +for very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Lydia seems to +think necessary; and then I must endeavour to be satisfied with +ignorance." + +"Not that I _shall_ though," she added to herself, as she finished the +letter; "and my dear aunt, if you do not tell me in an honourable +manner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find it +out." + +Jane's delicate sense of honour would not allow her to speak to +Elizabeth privately of what Lydia had let fall; Elizabeth was glad of +it;--till it appeared whether her inquiries would receive any +satisfaction, she had rather be without a confidante. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +Elizabeth had the satisfaction of receiving an answer to her letter, as +soon as she possibly could. She was no sooner in possession of it, than +hurrying into the little copse, where she was least likely to be +interrupted, she sat down on one of the benches, and prepared to be +happy; for the length of the letter convinced her that it did not +contain a denial. + + "Gracechurch-street, Sept. 6. + + "MY DEAR NIECE, + + "I have just received your letter, and shall devote this whole + morning to answering it, as I foresee that a _little_ writing will + not comprise what I have to tell you. I must confess myself + surprised by your application; I did not expect it from _you_. + Don't think me angry, however, for I only mean to let you know, + that I had not imagined such enquiries to be necessary on _your_ + side. If you do not choose to understand me, forgive my + impertinence. Your uncle is as much surprised as I am--and nothing + but the belief of your being a party concerned, would have allowed + him to act as he has done. But if you are really innocent and + ignorant, I must be more explicit. On the very day of my coming + home from Longbourn, your uncle had a most unexpected visitor. Mr. + Darcy called, and was shut up with him several hours. It was all + over before I arrived; so my curiosity was not so dreadfully racked + as _your's_ seems to have been. He came to tell Mr. Gardiner that + he had found out where your sister and Mr. Wickham were, and that + he had seen and talked with them both, Wickham repeatedly, Lydia + once. From what I can collect, he left Derbyshire only one day + after ourselves, and came to town with the resolution of hunting + for them. The motive professed, was his conviction of its being + owing to himself that Wickham's worthlessness had not been so well + known, as to make it impossible for any young woman of character, + to love or confide in him. He generously imputed the whole to his + mistaken pride, and confessed that he had before thought it beneath + him, to lay his private actions open to the world. His character + was to speak for itself. He called it, therefore, his duty to step + forward, and endeavour to remedy an evil, which had been brought on + by himself. If he _had another_ motive, I am sure it would never + disgrace him. He had been some days in town, before he was able to + discover them; but he had something to direct his search, which was + more than _we_ had; and the consciousness of this, was another + reason for his resolving to follow us. There is a lady, it seems, a + Mrs. Younge, who was some time ago governess to Miss Darcy, and was + dismissed from her charge on some cause of disapprobation, though + he did not say what. She then took a large house in Edward-street, + and has since maintained herself by letting lodgings. This Mrs. + Younge was, he knew, intimately acquainted with Wickham; and he + went to her for intelligence of him, as soon as he got to town. But + it was two or three days before he could get from her what he + wanted. She would not betray her trust, I suppose, without bribery + and corruption, for she really did know where her friend was to be + found. Wickham indeed had gone to her, on their first arrival in + London, and had she been able to receive them into her house, they + would have taken up their abode with her. At length, however, our + kind friend procured the wished-for direction. They were in ---- + street. He saw Wickham, and afterwards insisted on seeing Lydia. + His first object with her, he acknowledged, had been to persuade + her to quit her present disgraceful situation, and return to her + friends as soon as they could be prevailed on to receive her, + offering his assistance, as far as it would go. But he found Lydia + absolutely resolved on remaining where she was. She cared for none + of her friends, she wanted no help of his, she would not hear of + leaving Wickham. She was sure they should be married some time or + other, and it did not much signify when. Since such were her + feelings, it only remained, he thought, to secure and expedite a + marriage, which, in his very first conversation with Wickham, he + easily learnt, had never been _his_ design. He confessed himself + obliged to leave the regiment, on account of some debts of honour, + which were very pressing; and scrupled not to lay all the + ill-consequences of Lydia's flight, on her own folly alone. He + meant to resign his commission immediately; and as to his future + situation, he could conjecture very little about it. He must go + somewhere, but he did not know where, and he knew he should have + nothing to live on. Mr. Darcy asked him why he had not married your + sister at once. Though Mr. Bennet was not imagined to be very rich, + he would have been able to do something for him, and his situation + must have been benefited by marriage. But he found, in reply to + this question, that Wickham still cherished the hope of more + effectually making his fortune by marriage, in some other country. + Under such circumstances, however, he was not likely to be proof + against the temptation of immediate relief. They met several times, + for there was much to be discussed. Wickham of course wanted more + than he could get; but at length was reduced to be reasonable. + Every thing being settled between _them_, Mr. Darcy's next step was + to make your uncle acquainted with it, and he first called in + Gracechurch-street the evening before I came home. But Mr. Gardiner + could not be seen, and Mr. Darcy found, on further enquiry, that + your father was still with him, but would quit town the next + morning. He did not judge your father to be a person whom he could + so properly consult as your uncle, and therefore readily postponed + seeing him, till after the departure of the former. He did not + leave his name, and till the next day, it was only known that a + gentleman had called on business. On Saturday he came again. Your + father was gone, your uncle at home, and, as I said before, they + had a great deal of talk together. They met again on Sunday, and + then _I_ saw him too. It was not all settled before Monday: as soon + as it was, the express was sent off to Longbourn. But our visitor + was very obstinate. I fancy, Lizzy, that obstinacy is the real + defect of his character after all. He has been accused of many + faults at different times; but _this_ is the true one. Nothing was + to be done that he did not do himself; though I am sure (and I do + not speak it to be thanked, therefore say nothing about it,) your + uncle would most readily have settled the whole. They battled it + together for a long time, which was more than either the gentleman + or lady concerned in it deserved. But at last your uncle was forced + to yield, and instead of being allowed to be of use to his niece, + was forced to put up with only having the probable credit of it, + which went sorely against the grain; and I really believe your + letter this morning gave him great pleasure, because it required an + explanation that would rob him of his borrowed feathers, and give + the praise where it was due. But, Lizzy, this must go no farther + than yourself, or Jane at most. You know pretty well, I suppose, + what has been done for the young people. His debts are to be paid, + amounting, I believe, to considerably more than a thousand pounds, + another thousand in addition to her own settled upon _her_, and his + commission purchased. The reason why all this was to be done by him + alone, was such as I have given above. It was owing to him, to his + reserve, and want of proper consideration, that Wickham's character + had been so misunderstood, and consequently that he had been + received and noticed as he was. Perhaps there was some truth in + _this_; though I doubt whether _his_ reserve, or _anybody's_ + reserve, can be answerable for the event. But in spite of all this + fine talking, my dear Lizzy, you may rest perfectly assured, that + your uncle would never have yielded, if we had not given him credit + for _another interest_ in the affair. When all this was resolved + on, he returned again to his friends, who were still staying at + Pemberley; but it was agreed that he should be in London once more + when the wedding took place, and all money matters were then to + receive the last finish. I believe I have now told you every thing. + It is a relation which you tell me is to give you great surprise; I + hope at least it will not afford you any displeasure. Lydia came to + us; and Wickham had constant admission to the house. _He_ was + exactly what he had been, when I knew him in Hertfordshire; but I + would not tell you how little I was satisfied with _her_ behaviour + while she staid with us, if I had not perceived, by Jane's letter + last Wednesday, that her conduct on coming home was exactly of a + piece with it, and therefore what I now tell you, can give you no + fresh pain. I talked to her repeatedly in the most serious manner, + representing to her all the wickedness of what she had done, and + all the unhappiness she had brought on her family. If she heard me, + it was by good luck, for I am sure she did not listen. I was + sometimes quite provoked, but then I recollected my dear Elizabeth + and Jane, and for their sakes had patience with her. Mr. Darcy was + punctual in his return, and as Lydia informed you, attended the + wedding. He dined with us the next day, and was to leave town again + on Wednesday or Thursday. Will you be very angry with me, my dear + Lizzy, if I take this opportunity of saying (what I was never bold + enough to say before) how much I like him. His behaviour to us has, + in every respect, been as pleasing as when we were in Derbyshire. + His understanding and opinions all please me; he wants nothing but + a little more liveliness, and _that_, if he marry _prudently_, his + wife may teach him. I thought him very sly;--he hardly ever + mentioned your name. But slyness seems the fashion. Pray forgive + me, if I have been very presuming, or at least do not punish me so + far, as to exclude me from P. I shall never be quite happy till I + have been all round the park. A low phaeton, with a nice little + pair of ponies, would be the very thing. But I must write no more. + The children have been wanting me this half hour. Your's, very + sincerely, + + "M. GARDINER." + +The contents of this letter threw Elizabeth into a flutter of spirits, +in which it was difficult to determine whether pleasure or pain bore the +greatest share. The vague and unsettled suspicions which uncertainty had +produced of what Mr. Darcy might have been doing to forward her sister's +match, which she had feared to encourage, as an exertion of goodness too +great to be probable, and at the same time dreaded to be just, from the +pain of obligation, were proved beyond their greatest extent to be true! +He had followed them purposely to town, he had taken on himself all the +trouble and mortification attendant on such a research; in which +supplication had been necessary to a woman whom he must abominate and +despise, and where he was reduced to meet, frequently meet, reason with, +persuade, and finally bribe, the man whom he always most wished to +avoid, and whose very name it was punishment to him to pronounce. He had +done all this for a girl whom he could neither regard nor esteem. Her +heart did whisper, that he had done it for her. But it was a hope +shortly checked by other considerations, and she soon felt that even her +vanity was insufficient, when required to depend on his affection for +her, for a woman who had already refused him, as able to overcome a +sentiment so natural as abhorrence against relationship with Wickham. +Brother-in-law of Wickham! Every kind of pride must revolt from the +connection. He had to be sure done much. She was ashamed to think how +much. But he had given a reason for his interference, which asked no +extraordinary stretch of belief. It was reasonable that he should feel +he had been wrong; he had liberality, and he had the means of exercising +it; and though she would not place herself as his principal inducement, +she could, perhaps, believe, that remaining partiality for her, might +assist his endeavours in a cause where her peace of mind must be +materially concerned. It was painful, exceedingly painful, to know that +they were under obligations to a person who could never receive a +return. They owed the restoration of Lydia, her character, every thing +to him. Oh! how heartily did she grieve over every ungracious sensation +she had ever encouraged, every saucy speech she had ever directed +towards him. For herself she was humbled; but she was proud of him. +Proud that in a cause of compassion and honour, he had been able to get +the better of himself. She read over her aunt's commendation of him +again and again. It was hardly enough; but it pleased her. She was even +sensible of some pleasure, though mixed with regret, on finding how +steadfastly both she and her uncle had been persuaded that affection and +confidence subsisted between Mr. Darcy and herself. + +She was roused from her seat, and her reflections, by some one's +approach; and before she could strike into another path, she was +overtaken by Wickham. + +"I am afraid I interrupt your solitary ramble, my dear sister?" said he, +as he joined her. + +"You certainly do," she replied with a smile; "but it does not follow +that the interruption must be unwelcome." + +"I should be sorry indeed, if it were. _We_ were always good friends; +and now we are better." + +"True. Are the others coming out?" + +"I do not know. Mrs. Bennet and Lydia are going in the carriage to +Meryton. And so, my dear sister, I find from our uncle and aunt, that +you have actually seen Pemberley." + +She replied in the affirmative. + +"I almost envy you the pleasure, and yet I believe it would be too much +for me, or else I could take it in my way to Newcastle. And you saw the +old housekeeper, I suppose? Poor Reynolds, she was always very fond of +me. But of course she did not mention my name to you." + +"Yes, she did." + +"And what did she say?" + +"That you were gone into the army, and she was afraid had--not turned +out well. At such a distance as _that_, you know, things are strangely +misrepresented." + +"Certainly," he replied, biting his lips. Elizabeth hoped she had +silenced him; but he soon afterwards said, + +"I was surprised to see Darcy in town last month. We passed each other +several times. I wonder what he can be doing there." + +"Perhaps preparing for his marriage with Miss de Bourgh," said +Elizabeth. "It must be something particular, to take him there at this +time of year." + +"Undoubtedly. Did you see him while you were at Lambton? I thought I +understood from the Gardiners that you had." + +"Yes; he introduced us to his sister." + +"And do you like her?" + +"Very much." + +"I have heard, indeed, that she is uncommonly improved within this year +or two. When I last saw her, she was not very promising. I am very glad +you liked her. I hope she will turn out well." + +"I dare say she will; she has got over the most trying age." + +"Did you go by the village of Kympton?" + +"I do not recollect that we did." + +"I mention it, because it is the living which I ought to have had. A +most delightful place!--Excellent Parsonage House! It would have suited +me in every respect." + +"How should you have liked making sermons?" + +"Exceedingly well. I should have considered it as part of my duty, and +the exertion would soon have been nothing. One ought not to +repine;--but, to be sure, it would have been such a thing for me! The +quiet, the retirement of such a life, would have answered all my ideas +of happiness! But it was not to be. Did you ever hear Darcy mention the +circumstance, when you were in Kent?" + +"I _have_ heard from authority, which I thought _as good_, that it was +left you conditionally only, and at the will of the present patron." + +"You have. Yes, there was something in _that_; I told you so from the +first, you may remember." + +"I _did_ hear, too, that there was a time, when sermon-making was not so +palatable to you as it seems to be at present; that you actually +declared your resolution of never taking orders, and that the business +had been compromised accordingly." + +"You did! and it was not wholly without foundation. You may remember +what I told you on that point, when first we talked of it." + +They were now almost at the door of the house, for she had walked fast +to get rid of him; and unwilling for her sister's sake, to provoke him, +she only said in reply, with a good-humoured smile, + +"Come, Mr. Wickham, we are brother and sister, you know. Do not let us +quarrel about the past. In future, I hope we shall be always of one +mind." + +She held out her hand; he kissed it with affectionate gallantry, though +he hardly knew how to look, and they entered the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +Mr. Wickham was so perfectly satisfied with this conversation, that he +never again distressed himself, or provoked his dear sister Elizabeth, +by introducing the subject of it; and she was pleased to find that she +had said enough to keep him quiet. + +The day of his and Lydia's departure soon came, and Mrs. Bennet was +forced to submit to a separation, which, as her husband by no means +entered into her scheme of their all going to Newcastle, was likely to +continue at least a twelvemonth. + +"Oh! my dear Lydia," she cried, "when shall we meet again?" + +"Oh, lord! I don't know. Not these two or three years perhaps." + +"Write to me very often, my dear." + +"As often as I can. But you know married women have never much time for +writing. My sisters may write to _me_. They will have nothing else to +do." + +Mr. Wickham's adieus were much more affectionate than his wife's. He +smiled, looked handsome, and said many pretty things. + +"He is as fine a fellow," said Mr. Bennet, as soon as they were out of +the house, "as ever I saw. He simpers, and smirks, and makes love to us +all. I am prodigiously proud of him. I defy even Sir William Lucas +himself, to produce a more valuable son-in-law." + +The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very dull for several days. + +"I often think," said she, "that there is nothing so bad as parting with +one's friends. One seems so forlorn without them." + +"This is the consequence you see, Madam, of marrying a daughter," said +Elizabeth. "It must make you better satisfied that your other four are +single." + +"It is no such thing. Lydia does not leave me because she is married; +but only because her husband's regiment happens to be so far off. If +that had been nearer, she would not have gone so soon." + +But the spiritless condition which this event threw her into, was +shortly relieved, and her mind opened again to the agitation of hope, by +an article of news, which then began to be in circulation. The +housekeeper at Netherfield had received orders to prepare for the +arrival of her master, who was coming down in a day or two, to shoot +there for several weeks. Mrs. Bennet was quite in the fidgets. She +looked at Jane, and smiled, and shook her head by turns. + +"Well, well, and so Mr. Bingley is coming down, sister," (for Mrs. +Philips first brought her the news.) "Well, so much the better. Not that +I care about it, though. He is nothing to us, you know, and I am sure +_I_ never want to see him again. But, however, he is very welcome to +come to Netherfield, if he likes it. And who knows what _may_ happen? +But that is nothing to us. You know, sister, we agreed long ago never to +mention a word about it. And so, is it quite certain he is coming?" + +"You may depend on it," replied the other, "for Mrs. Nicholls was in +Meryton last night; I saw her passing by, and went out myself on purpose +to know the truth of it; and she told me that it was certain true. He +comes down on Thursday at the latest, very likely on Wednesday. She was +going to the butcher's, she told me, on purpose to order in some meat on +Wednesday, and she has got three couple of ducks, just fit to be +killed." + +Miss Bennet had not been able to hear of his coming, without changing +colour. It was many months since she had mentioned his name to +Elizabeth; but now, as soon as they were alone together, she said, + +"I saw you look at me to-day, Lizzy, when my aunt told us of the present +report; and I know I appeared distressed. But don't imagine it was from +any silly cause. I was only confused for the moment, because I felt +that I _should_ be looked at. I do assure you, that the news does not +affect me either with pleasure or pain. I am glad of one thing, that he +comes alone; because we shall see the less of him. Not that I am afraid +of _myself_, but I dread other people's remarks." + +Elizabeth did not know what to make of it. Had she not seen him in +Derbyshire, she might have supposed him capable of coming there, with no +other view than what was acknowledged; but she still thought him partial +to Jane, and she wavered as to the greater probability of his coming +there _with_ his friend's permission, or being bold enough to come +without it. + +"Yet it is hard," she sometimes thought, "that this poor man cannot come +to a house, which he has legally hired, without raising all this +speculation! I _will_ leave him to himself." + +In spite of what her sister declared, and really believed to be her +feelings, in the expectation of his arrival, Elizabeth could easily +perceive that her spirits were affected by it. They were more disturbed, +more unequal, than she had often seen them. + +The subject which had been so warmly canvassed between their parents, +about a twelvemonth ago, was now brought forward again. + +"As soon as ever Mr. Bingley comes, my dear," said Mrs. Bennet, "you +will wait on him of course." + +"No, no. You forced me into visiting him last year, and promised if I +went to see him, he should marry one of my daughters. But it ended in +nothing, and I will not be sent on a fool's errand again." + +His wife represented to him how absolutely necessary such an attention +would be from all the neighbouring gentlemen, on his returning to +Netherfield. + +"'Tis an etiquette I despise," said he. "If he wants our society, let +him seek it. He knows where we live. I will not spend _my_ hours in +running after my neighbours every time they go away, and come back +again." + +"Well, all I know is, that it will be abominably rude if you do not +wait on him. But, however, that shan't prevent my asking him to dine +here, I am determined. We must have Mrs. Long and the Gouldings soon. +That will make thirteen with ourselves, so there will be just room at +table for him." + +Consoled by this resolution, she was the better able to bear her +husband's incivility; though it was very mortifying to know that her +neighbours might all see Mr. Bingley in consequence of it, before _they_ +did. As the day of his arrival drew near, + +"I begin to be sorry that he comes at all," said Jane to her sister. "It +would be nothing; I could see him with perfect indifference, but I can +hardly bear to hear it thus perpetually talked of. My mother means well; +but she does not know, no one can know how much I suffer from what she +says. Happy shall I be, when his stay at Netherfield is over!" + +"I wish I could say any thing to comfort you," replied Elizabeth; "but +it is wholly out of my power. You must feel it; and the usual +satisfaction of preaching patience to a sufferer is denied me, because +you have always so much." + +Mr. Bingley arrived. Mrs. Bennet, through the assistance of servants, +contrived to have the earliest tidings of it, that the period of anxiety +and fretfulness on her side, might be as long as it could. She counted +the days that must intervene before their invitation could be sent; +hopeless of seeing him before. But on the third morning after his +arrival in Hertfordshire, she saw him from her dressing-room window, +enter the paddock, and ride towards the house. + +Her daughters were eagerly called to partake of her joy. Jane resolutely +kept her place at the table; but Elizabeth, to satisfy her mother, went +to the window--she looked,--she saw Mr. Darcy with him, and sat down +again by her sister. + +"There is a gentleman with him, mamma," said Kitty; "who can it be?" + +"Some acquaintance or other, my dear, I suppose; I am sure I do not +know." + +"La!" replied Kitty, "it looks just like that man that used to be with +him before. Mr. what's his name. That tall, proud man." + +"Good gracious! Mr. Darcy!--and so it does I vow. Well, any friend of +Mr. Bingley's will always be welcome here to be sure; but else I must +say that I hate the very sight of him." + +Jane looked at Elizabeth with surprise and concern. She knew but little +of their meeting in Derbyshire, and therefore felt for the awkwardness +which must attend her sister, in seeing him almost for the first time +after receiving his explanatory letter. Both sisters were uncomfortable +enough. Each felt for the other, and of course for themselves; and their +mother talked on, of her dislike of Mr. Darcy, and her resolution to be +civil to him only as Mr. Bingley's friend, without being heard by either +of them. But Elizabeth had sources of uneasiness which could not be +suspected by Jane, to whom she had never yet had courage to shew Mrs. +Gardiner's letter, or to relate her own change of sentiment towards him. +To Jane, he could be only a man whose proposals she had refused, and +whose merit she had undervalued; but to her own more extensive +information, he was the person, to whom the whole family were indebted +for the first of benefits, and whom she regarded herself with an +interest, if not quite so tender, at least as reasonable and just, as +what Jane felt for Bingley. Her astonishment at his coming--at his +coming to Netherfield, to Longbourn, and voluntarily seeking her again, +was almost equal to what she had known on first witnessing his altered +behaviour in Derbyshire. + +The colour which had been driven from her face, returned for half a +minute with an additional glow, and a smile of delight added lustre to +her eyes, as she thought for that space of time, that his affection and +wishes must still be unshaken. But she would not be secure. + +"Let me first see how he behaves," said she; "it will then be early +enough for expectation." + +She sat intently at work, striving to be composed, and without daring to +lift up her eyes, till anxious curiosity carried them to the face of her +sister, as the servant was approaching the door. Jane looked a little +paler than usual, but more sedate than Elizabeth had expected. On the +gentlemen's appearing, her colour increased; yet she received them with +tolerable ease, and with a propriety of behaviour equally free from any +symptom of resentment, or any unnecessary complaisance. + +Elizabeth said as little to either as civility would allow, and sat down +again to her work, with an eagerness which it did not often command. She +had ventured only one glance at Darcy. He looked serious as usual; and +she thought, more as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire, than as +she had seen him at Pemberley. But, perhaps he could not in her mother's +presence be what he was before her uncle and aunt. It was a painful, but +not an improbable, conjecture. + +Bingley, she had likewise seen for an instant, and in that short period +saw him looking both pleased and embarrassed. He was received by Mrs. +Bennet with a degree of civility, which made her two daughters ashamed, +especially when contrasted with the cold and ceremonious politeness of +her curtsey and address to his friend. + +Elizabeth particularly, who knew that her mother owed to the latter the +preservation of her favourite daughter from irremediable infamy, was +hurt and distressed to a most painful degree by a distinction so ill +applied. + +Darcy, after enquiring of her how Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner did, a question +which she could not answer without confusion, said scarcely any thing. +He was not seated by her; perhaps that was the reason of his silence; +but it had not been so in Derbyshire. There he had talked to her +friends, when he could not to herself. But now several minutes elapsed, +without bringing the sound of his voice; and when occasionally, unable +to resist the impulse of curiosity, she raised her eyes to his face, she +as often found him looking at Jane, as at herself, and frequently on no +object but the ground. More thoughtfulness, and less anxiety to please +than when they last met, were plainly expressed. She was disappointed, +and angry with herself for being so. + +"Could I expect it to be otherwise!" said she. "Yet why did he come?" + +She was in no humour for conversation with any one but himself; and to +him she had hardly courage to speak. + +She enquired after his sister, but could do no more. + +"It is a long time, Mr. Bingley, since you went away," said Mrs. Bennet. + +He readily agreed to it. + +"I began to be afraid you would never come back again. People _did_ say, +you meant to quit the place entirely at Michaelmas; but, however, I hope +it is not true. A great many changes have happened in the neighbourhood, +since you went away. Miss Lucas is married and settled. And one of my +own daughters. I suppose you have heard of it; indeed, you must have +seen it in the papers. It was in the Times and the Courier, I know; +though it was not put in as it ought to be. It was only said, 'Lately, +George Wickham, Esq. to Miss Lydia Bennet,' without there being a +syllable said of her father, or the place where she lived, or any thing. +It was my brother Gardiner's drawing up too, and I wonder how he came to +make such an awkward business of it. Did you see it?" + +Bingley replied that he did, and made his congratulations. Elizabeth +dared not lift up her eyes. How Mr. Darcy looked, therefore, she could +not tell. + +"It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter well married," +continued her mother, "but at the same time, Mr. Bingley, it is very +hard to have her taken such a way from me. They are gone down to +Newcastle, a place quite northward, it seems, and there they are to +stay, I do not know how long. His regiment is there; for I suppose you +have heard of his leaving the ----shire, and of his being gone into the +regulars. Thank Heaven! he has _some_ friends, though perhaps not so +many as he deserves." + +Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy, was in such misery +of shame, that she could hardly keep her seat. It drew from her, +however, the exertion of speaking, which nothing else had so effectually +done before; and she asked Bingley, whether he meant to make any stay in +the country at present. A few weeks, he believed. + +"When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley," said her mother, +"I beg you will come here, and shoot as many as you please, on Mr. +Bennet's manor. I am sure he will be vastly happy to oblige you, and +will save all the best of the covies for you." + +Elizabeth's misery increased, at such unnecessary, such officious +attention! Were the same fair prospect to arise at present, as had +flattered them a year ago, every thing, she was persuaded, would be +hastening to the same vexatious conclusion. At that instant she felt, +that years of happiness could not make Jane or herself amends, for +moments of such painful confusion. + +"The first wish of my heart," said she to herself, "is never more to be +in company with either of them. Their society can afford no pleasure, +that will atone for such wretchedness as this! Let me never see either +one or the other again!" + +Yet the misery, for which years of happiness were to offer no +compensation, received soon afterwards material relief, from observing +how much the beauty of her sister re-kindled the admiration of her +former lover. When first he came in, he had spoken to her but little; +but every five minutes seemed to be giving her more of his attention. He +found her as handsome as she had been last year; as good natured, and as +unaffected, though not quite so chatty. Jane was anxious that no +difference should be perceived in her at all, and was really persuaded +that she talked as much as ever. But her mind was so busily engaged, +that she did not always know when she was silent. + +When the gentlemen rose to go away, Mrs. Bennet was mindful of her +intended civility, and they were invited and engaged to dine at +Longbourn in a few days time. + +"You are quite a visit in my debt, Mr. Bingley," she added, "for when +you went to town last winter, you promised to take a family dinner with +us, as soon as you returned. I have not forgot, you see; and I assure +you, I was very much disappointed that you did not come back and keep +your engagement." + +Bingley looked a little silly at this reflection, and said something of +his concern, at having been prevented by business. They then went away. + +Mrs. Bennet had been strongly inclined to ask them to stay and dine +there, that day; but, though she always kept a very good table, she did +not think any thing less than two courses, could be good enough for a +man, on whom she had such anxious designs, or satisfy the appetite and +pride of one who had ten thousand a-year. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +As soon as they were gone, Elizabeth walked out to recover her spirits; +or in other words, to dwell without interruption on those subjects that +must deaden them more. Mr. Darcy's behaviour astonished and vexed her. + +"Why, if he came only to be silent, grave, and indifferent," said she, +"did he come at all?" + +She could settle it in no way that gave her pleasure. + +"He could be still amiable, still pleasing, to my uncle and aunt, when +he was in town; and why not to me? If he fears me, why come hither? If +he no longer cares for me, why silent? Teazing, teazing, man! I will +think no more about him." + +Her resolution was for a short time involuntarily kept by the approach +of her sister, who joined her with a cheerful look, which shewed her +better satisfied with their visitors, than Elizabeth. + +"Now," said she, "that this first meeting is over, I feel perfectly +easy. I know my own strength, and I shall never be embarrassed again by +his coming. I am glad he dines here on Tuesday. It will then be publicly +seen, that on both sides, we meet only as common and indifferent +acquaintance." + +"Yes, very indifferent indeed," said Elizabeth, laughingly. "Oh, Jane, +take care." + +"My dear Lizzy, you cannot think me so weak, as to be in danger now." + +"I think you are in very great danger of making him as much in love with +you as ever." + + * * * * * + +They did not see the gentlemen again till Tuesday; and Mrs. Bennet, in +the meanwhile, was giving way to all the happy schemes, which the good +humour, and common politeness of Bingley, in half an hour's visit, had +revived. + +On Tuesday there was a large party assembled at Longbourn; and the two, +who were most anxiously expected, to the credit of their punctuality as +sportsmen, were in very good time. When they repaired to the +dining-room, Elizabeth eagerly watched to see whether Bingley would take +the place, which, in all their former parties, had belonged to him, by +her sister. Her prudent mother, occupied by the same ideas, forbore to +invite him to sit by herself. On entering the room, he seemed to +hesitate; but Jane happened to look round, and happened to smile: it was +decided. He placed himself by her. + +Elizabeth, with a triumphant sensation, looked towards his friend. He +bore it with noble indifference, and she would have imagined that +Bingley had received his sanction to be happy, had she not seen his eyes +likewise turned towards Mr. Darcy, with an expression of half-laughing +alarm. + +His behaviour to her sister was such, during dinner time, as shewed an +admiration of her, which, though more guarded than formerly, persuaded +Elizabeth, that if left wholly to himself, Jane's happiness, and his +own, would be speedily secured. Though she dared not depend upon the +consequence, she yet received pleasure from observing his behaviour. It +gave her all the animation that her spirits could boast; for she was in +no cheerful humour. Mr. Darcy was almost as far from her, as the table +could divide them. He was on one side of her mother. She knew how little +such a situation would give pleasure to either, or make either appear to +advantage. She was not near enough to hear any of their discourse, but +she could see how seldom they spoke to each other, and how formal and +cold was their manner, whenever they did. Her mother's ungraciousness, +made the sense of what they owed him more painful to Elizabeth's mind; +and she would, at times, have given any thing to be privileged to tell +him, that his kindness was neither unknown nor unfelt by the whole of +the family. + +She was in hopes that the evening would afford some opportunity of +bringing them together; that the whole of the visit would not pass away +without enabling them to enter into something more of conversation, than +the mere ceremonious salutation attending his entrance. Anxious and +uneasy, the period which passed in the drawing-room, before the +gentlemen came, was wearisome and dull to a degree, that almost made her +uncivil. She looked forward to their entrance, as the point on which all +her chance of pleasure for the evening must depend. + +"If he does not come to me, _then_," said she, "I shall give him up for +ever." + +The gentlemen came; and she thought he looked as if he would have +answered her hopes; but, alas! the ladies had crowded round the table, +where Miss Bennet was making tea, and Elizabeth pouring out the coffee, +in so close a confederacy, that there was not a single vacancy near her, +which would admit of a chair. And on the gentlemen's approaching, one of +the girls moved closer to her than ever, and said, in a whisper, + +"The men shan't come and part us, I am determined. We want none of them; +do we?" + +Darcy had walked away to another part of the room. She followed him with +her eyes, envied every one to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience +enough to help anybody to coffee; and then was enraged against herself +for being so silly! + +"A man who has once been refused! How could I ever be foolish enough to +expect a renewal of his love? Is there one among the sex, who would not +protest against such a weakness as a second proposal to the same woman? +There is no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings!" + +She was a little revived, however, by his bringing back his coffee cup +himself; and she seized the opportunity of saying, + +"Is your sister at Pemberley still?" + +"Yes, she will remain there till Christmas." + +"And quite alone? Have all her friends left her?" + +"Mrs. Annesley is with her. The others have been gone on to Scarborough, +these three weeks." + +She could think of nothing more to say; but if he wished to converse +with her, he might have better success. He stood by her, however, for +some minutes, in silence; and, at last, on the young lady's whispering +to Elizabeth again, he walked away. + +When the tea-things were removed, and the card tables placed, the ladies +all rose, and Elizabeth was then hoping to be soon joined by him, when +all her views were overthrown, by seeing him fall a victim to her +mother's rapacity for whist players, and in a few moments after seated +with the rest of the party. She now lost every expectation of pleasure. +They were confined for the evening at different tables, and she had +nothing to hope, but that his eyes were so often turned towards her side +of the room, as to make him play as unsuccessfully as herself. + +Mrs. Bennet had designed to keep the two Netherfield gentlemen to +supper; but their carriage was unluckily ordered before any of the +others, and she had no opportunity of detaining them. + +"Well girls," said she, as soon as they were left to themselves, "What +say you to the day? I think every thing has passed off uncommonly well, +I assure you. The dinner was as well dressed as any I ever saw. The +venison was roasted to a turn--and everybody said, they never saw so fat +a haunch. The soup was fifty times better than what we had at the +Lucas's last week; and even Mr. Darcy acknowledged, that the partridges +were remarkably well done; and I suppose he has two or three French +cooks at least. And, my dear Jane, I never saw you look in greater +beauty. Mrs. Long said so too, for I asked her whether you did not. And +what do you think she said besides? 'Ah! Mrs. Bennet, we shall have her +at Netherfield at last.' She did indeed. I do think Mrs. Long is as good +a creature as ever lived--and her nieces are very pretty behaved girls, +and not at all handsome: I like them prodigiously." + +Mrs. Bennet, in short, was in very great spirits; she had seen enough of +Bingley's behaviour to Jane, to be convinced that she would get him at +last; and her expectations of advantage to her family, when in a happy +humour, were so far beyond reason, that she was quite disappointed at +not seeing him there again the next day, to make his proposals. + +"It has been a very agreeable day," said Miss Bennet to Elizabeth. "The +party seemed so well selected, so suitable one with the other. I hope we +may often meet again." + +Elizabeth smiled. + +"Lizzy, you must not do so. You must not suspect me. It mortifies me. I +assure you that I have now learnt to enjoy his conversation as an +agreeable and sensible young man, without having a wish beyond it. I am +perfectly satisfied from what his manners now are, that he never had any +design of engaging my affection. It is only that he is blessed with +greater sweetness of address, and a stronger desire of generally +pleasing than any other man." + +"You are very cruel," said her sister, "you will not let me smile, and +are provoking me to it every moment." + +"How hard it is in some cases to be believed!" + +"And how impossible in others!" + +"But why should you wish to persuade me that I feel more than I +acknowledge?" + +"That is a question which I hardly know how to answer. We all love to +instruct, though we can teach only what is not worth knowing. Forgive +me; and if you persist in indifference, do not make _me_ your +confidante." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +A few days after this visit, Mr. Bingley called again, and alone. His +friend had left him that morning for London, but was to return home in +ten days time. He sat with them above an hour, and was in remarkably +good spirits. Mrs. Bennet invited him to dine with them; but, with many +expressions of concern, he confessed himself engaged elsewhere. + +"Next time you call," said she, "I hope we shall be more lucky." + +He should be particularly happy at any time, &c. &c.; and if she would +give him leave, would take an early opportunity of waiting on them. + +"Can you come to-morrow?" + +Yes, he had no engagement at all for to-morrow; and her invitation was +accepted with alacrity. + +He came, and in such very good time, that the ladies were none of them +dressed. In ran Mrs. Bennet to her daughter's room, in her dressing +gown, and with her hair half finished, crying out, + +"My dear Jane, make haste and hurry down. He is come--Mr. Bingley is +come.--He is, indeed. Make haste, make haste. Here, Sarah, come to Miss +Bennet this moment, and help her on with her gown. Never mind Miss +Lizzy's hair." + +"We will be down as soon as we can," said Jane; "but I dare say Kitty is +forwarder than either of us, for she went up stairs half an hour ago." + +"Oh! hang Kitty! what has she to do with it? Come be quick, be quick! +where is your sash my dear?" + +But when her mother was gone, Jane would not be prevailed on to go down +without one of her sisters. + +The same anxiety to get them by themselves, was visible again in the +evening. After tea, Mr. Bennet retired to the library, as was his +custom, and Mary went up stairs to her instrument. Two obstacles of the +five being thus removed, Mrs. Bennet sat looking and winking at +Elizabeth and Catherine for a considerable time, without making any +impression on them. Elizabeth would not observe her; and when at last +Kitty did, she very innocently said, "What is the matter mamma? What do +you keep winking at me for? What am I to do?" + +"Nothing child, nothing. I did not wink at you." She then sat still five +minutes longer; but unable to waste such a precious occasion, she +suddenly got up, and saying to Kitty, + +"Come here, my love, I want to speak to you," took her out of the room. +Jane instantly gave a look at Elizabeth, which spoke her distress at +such premeditation, and her intreaty that _she_ would not give into it. +In a few minutes, Mrs. Bennet half opened the door and called out, + +"Lizzy, my dear, I want to speak with you." + +Elizabeth was forced to go. + +"We may as well leave them by themselves you know;" said her mother as +soon as she was in the hall. "Kitty and I are going upstairs to sit in +my dressing-room." + +Elizabeth made no attempt to reason with her mother, but remained +quietly in the hall, till she and Kitty were out of sight, then returned +into the drawing-room. + +Mrs. Bennet's schemes for this day were ineffectual. Bingley was every +thing that was charming, except the professed lover of her daughter. His +ease and cheerfulness rendered him a most agreeable addition to their +evening party; and he bore with the ill-judged officiousness of the +mother, and heard all her silly remarks with a forbearance and command +of countenance, particularly grateful to the daughter. + +He scarcely needed an invitation to stay supper; and before he went +away, an engagement was formed, chiefly through his own and Mrs. +Bennet's means, for his coming next morning to shoot with her husband. + +After this day, Jane said no more of her indifference. Not a word passed +between the sisters concerning Bingley; but Elizabeth went to bed in +the happy belief that all must speedily be concluded, unless Mr. Darcy +returned within the stated time. Seriously, however, she felt tolerably +persuaded that all this must have taken place with that gentleman's +concurrence. + +Bingley was punctual to his appointment; and he and Mr. Bennet spent the +morning together, as had been agreed on. The latter was much more +agreeable than his companion expected. There was nothing of presumption +or folly in Bingley, that could provoke his ridicule, or disgust him +into silence; and he was more communicative, and less eccentric than the +other had ever seen him. Bingley of course returned with him to dinner; +and in the evening Mrs. Bennet's invention was again at work to get +every body away from him and her daughter. Elizabeth, who had a letter +to write, went into the breakfast room for that purpose soon after tea; +for as the others were all going to sit down to cards, she could not be +wanted to counteract her mother's schemes. + +But on returning to the drawing-room, when her letter was finished, she +saw, to her infinite surprise, there was reason to fear that her mother +had been too ingenious for her. On opening the door, she perceived her +sister and Bingley standing together over the hearth, as if engaged in +earnest conversation; and had this led to no suspicion, the faces of +both as they hastily turned round, and moved away from each other, would +have told it all. _Their_ situation was awkward enough; but _her's_ she +thought was still worse. Not a syllable was uttered by either; and +Elizabeth was on the point of going away again, when Bingley, who as +well as the other had sat down, suddenly rose, and whispering a few +words to her sister, ran out of the room. + +Jane could have no reserves from Elizabeth, where confidence would give +pleasure; and instantly embracing her, acknowledged, with the liveliest +emotion, that she was the happiest creature in the world. + +"'Tis too much!" she added, "by far too much. I do not deserve it. Oh! +why is not every body as happy?" + +Elizabeth's congratulations were given with a sincerity, a warmth, a +delight, which words could but poorly express. Every sentence of +kindness was a fresh source of happiness to Jane. But she would not +allow herself to stay with her sister, or say half that remained to be +said, for the present. + +"I must go instantly to my mother;" she cried. "I would not on any +account trifle with her affectionate solicitude; or allow her to hear it +from any one but myself. He is gone to my father already. Oh! Lizzy, to +know that what I have to relate will give such pleasure to all my dear +family! how shall I bear so much happiness!" + +She then hastened away to her mother, who had purposely broken up the +card party, and was sitting up stairs with Kitty. + +Elizabeth, who was left by herself, now smiled at the rapidity and ease +with which an affair was finally settled, that had given them so many +previous months of suspense and vexation. + +"And this," said she, "is the end of all his friend's anxious +circumspection! of all his sister's falsehood and contrivance! the +happiest, wisest, most reasonable end!" + +In a few minutes she was joined by Bingley, whose conference with her +father had been short and to the purpose. + +"Where is your sister?" said he hastily, as he opened the door. + +"With my mother up stairs. She will be down in a moment I dare say." + +He then shut the door, and coming up to her, claimed the good wishes and +affection of a sister. Elizabeth honestly and heartily expressed her +delight in the prospect of their relationship. They shook hands with +great cordiality; and then till her sister came down, she had to listen +to all he had to say, of his own happiness, and of Jane's perfections; +and in spite of his being a lover, Elizabeth really believed all his +expectations of felicity, to be rationally founded, because they had for +basis the excellent understanding, and super-excellent disposition of +Jane, and a general similarity of feeling and taste between her and +himself. + +It was an evening of no common delight to them all; the satisfaction of +Miss Bennet's mind gave a glow of such sweet animation to her face, as +made her look handsomer than ever. Kitty simpered and smiled, and hoped +her turn was coming soon. Mrs. Bennet could not give her consent, or +speak her approbation in terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings, +though she talked to Bingley of nothing else, for half an hour; and when +Mr. Bennet joined them at supper, his voice and manner plainly shewed +how really happy he was. + +Not a word, however, passed his lips in allusion to it, till their +visitor took his leave for the night; but as soon as he was gone, he +turned to his daughter and said, + +"Jane, I congratulate you. You will be a very happy woman." + +Jane went to him instantly, kissed him, and thanked him for his +goodness. + +"You are a good girl;" he replied, "and I have great pleasure in +thinking you will be so happily settled. I have not a doubt of your +doing very well together. Your tempers are by no means unlike. You are +each of you so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so +easy, that every servant will cheat you; and so generous, that you will +always exceed your income." + +"I hope not so. Imprudence or thoughtlessness in money matters, would be +unpardonable in _me_." + +"Exceed their income! My dear Mr. Bennet," cried his wife, "what are you +talking of? Why, he has four or five thousand a-year, and very likely +more." Then addressing her daughter, "Oh! my dear, dear Jane, I am so +happy! I am sure I sha'nt get a wink of sleep all night. I knew how it +would be. I always said it must be so, at last. I was sure you could not +be so beautiful for nothing! I remember, as soon as ever I saw him, when +he first came into Hertfordshire last year, I thought how likely it was +that you should come together. Oh! he is the handsomest young man that +ever was seen!" + +Wickham, Lydia, were all forgotten. Jane was beyond competition her +favourite child. At that moment, she cared for no other. Her younger +sisters soon began to make interest with her for objects of happiness +which she might in future be able to dispense. + +Mary petitioned for the use of the library at Netherfield; and Kitty +begged very hard for a few balls there every winter. + +Bingley, from this time, was of course a daily visitor at Longbourn; +coming frequently before breakfast, and always remaining till after +supper; unless when some barbarous neighbour, who could not be enough +detested, had given him an invitation to dinner, which he thought +himself obliged to accept. + +Elizabeth had now but little time for conversation with her sister; for +while he was present, Jane had no attention to bestow on any one else; +but she found herself considerably useful to both of them, in those +hours of separation that must sometimes occur. In the absence of Jane, +he always attached himself to Elizabeth, for the pleasure of talking of +her; and when Bingley was gone, Jane constantly sought the same means of +relief. + +"He has made me so happy," said she, one evening, "by telling me, that +he was totally ignorant of my being in town last spring! I had not +believed it possible." + +"I suspected as much," replied Elizabeth. "But how did he account for +it?" + +"It must have been his sister's doing. They were certainly no friends to +his acquaintance with me, which I cannot wonder at, since he might have +chosen so much more advantageously in many respects. But when they see, +as I trust they will, that their brother is happy with me, they will +learn to be contented, and we shall be on good terms again; though we +can never be what we once were to each other." + +"That is the most unforgiving speech," said Elizabeth, "that I ever +heard you utter. Good girl! It would vex me, indeed, to see you again +the dupe of Miss Bingley's pretended regard." + +"Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he went to town last November, +he really loved me, and nothing but a persuasion of _my_ being +indifferent, would have prevented his coming down again!" + +"He made a little mistake to be sure; but it is to the credit of his +modesty." + +This naturally introduced a panegyric from Jane on his diffidence, and +the little value he put on his own good qualities. + +Elizabeth was pleased to find, that he had not betrayed the interference +of his friend, for, though Jane had the most generous and forgiving +heart in the world, she knew it was a circumstance which must prejudice +her against him. + +"I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!" cried +Jane. "Oh! Lizzy, why am I thus singled from my family, and blessed +above them all! If I could but see _you_ as happy! If there _were_ but +such another man for you!" + +"If you were to give me forty such men, I never could be so happy as +you. Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your +happiness. No, no, let me shift for myself; and, perhaps, if I have very +good luck, I may meet with another Mr. Collins in time." + +The situation of affairs in the Longbourn family could not be long a +secret. Mrs. Bennet was privileged to whisper it to Mrs. Philips, and +_she_ ventured, without any permission, to do the same by all her +neighbours in Meryton. + +The Bennets were speedily pronounced to be the luckiest family in the +world, though only a few weeks before, when Lydia had first run away, +they had been generally proved to be marked out for misfortune. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +One morning, about a week after Bingley's engagement with Jane had been +formed, as he and the females of the family were sitting together in the +dining-room, their attention was suddenly drawn to the window, by the +sound of a carriage; and they perceived a chaise and four driving up the +lawn. It was too early in the morning for visitors, and besides, the +equipage did not answer to that of any of their neighbours. The horses +were post; and neither the carriage, nor the livery of the servant who +preceded it, were familiar to them. As it was certain, however, that +somebody was coming, Bingley instantly prevailed on Miss Bennet to avoid +the confinement of such an intrusion, and walk away with him into the +shrubbery. They both set off, and the conjectures of the remaining three +continued, though with little satisfaction, till the door was thrown +open, and their visitor entered. It was lady Catherine de Bourgh. + +They were of course all intending to be surprised; but their +astonishment was beyond their expectation; and on the part of Mrs. +Bennet and Kitty, though she was perfectly unknown to them, even +inferior to what Elizabeth felt. + +She entered the room with an air more than usually ungracious, made no +other reply to Elizabeth's salutation, than a slight inclination of the +head, and sat down without saying a word. Elizabeth had mentioned her +name to her mother, on her ladyship's entrance, though no request of +introduction had been made. + +Mrs. Bennet all amazement, though flattered by having a guest of such +high importance, received her with the utmost politeness. After sitting +for a moment in silence, she said very stiffly to Elizabeth, + +"I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. That lady I suppose is your mother." + +Elizabeth replied very concisely that she was. + +"And _that_ I suppose is one of your sisters." + +"Yes, madam," said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak to a lady Catherine. +"She is my youngest girl but one. My youngest of all, is lately married, +and my eldest is somewhere about the grounds, walking with a young man, +who I believe will soon become a part of the family." + +"You have a very small park here," returned Lady Catherine after a short +silence. + +"It is nothing in comparison of Rosings, my lady, I dare say; but I +assure you it is much larger than Sir William Lucas's." + +"This must be a most inconvenient sitting room for the evening, in +summer; the windows are full west." + +Mrs. Bennet assured her that they never sat there after dinner; and then +added, + +"May I take the liberty of asking your ladyship whether you left Mr. and +Mrs. Collins well." + +"Yes, very well. I saw them the night before last." + +Elizabeth now expected that she would produce a letter for her from +Charlotte, as it seemed the only probable motive for her calling. But no +letter appeared, and she was completely puzzled. + +Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, begged her ladyship to take some +refreshment; but Lady Catherine very resolutely, and not very politely, +declined eating any thing; and then rising up, said to Elizabeth, + +"Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of a little wilderness +on one side of your lawn. I should be glad to take a turn in it, if you +will favour me with your company." + +"Go, my dear," cried her mother, "and shew her ladyship about the +different walks. I think she will be pleased with the hermitage." + +Elizabeth obeyed, and running into her own room for her parasol, +attended her noble guest down stairs. As they passed through the hall, +Lady Catherine opened the doors into the dining-parlour and +drawing-room, and pronouncing them, after a short survey, to be decent +looking rooms, walked on. + +Her carriage remained at the door, and Elizabeth saw that her +waiting-woman was in it. They proceeded in silence along the gravel walk +that led to the copse; Elizabeth was determined to make no effort for +conversation with a woman, who was now more than usually insolent and +disagreeable. + +"How could I ever think her like her nephew?" said she, as she looked in +her face. + +As soon as they entered the copse, Lady Catherine began in the following +manner:-- + +"You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my +journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I +come." + +Elizabeth looked with unaffected astonishment. + +"Indeed, you are mistaken, Madam. I have not been at all able to account +for the honour of seeing you here." + +"Miss Bennet," replied her ladyship, in an angry tone, "you ought to +know, that I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere _you_ may +choose to be, you shall not find _me_ so. My character has ever been +celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such +moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a most +alarming nature, reached me two days ago. I was told, that not only your +sister was on the point of being most advantageously married, but that +_you_, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would, in all likelihood, be soon +afterwards united to my nephew, my own nephew, Mr. Darcy. Though I +_know_ it must be a scandalous falsehood; though I would not injure him +so much as to suppose the truth of it possible, I instantly resolved on +setting off for this place, that I might make my sentiments known to +you." + +"If you believed it impossible to be true," said Elizabeth, colouring +with astonishment and disdain, "I wonder you took the trouble of coming +so far. What could your ladyship propose by it?" + +"At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted." + +"Your coming to Longbourn, to see me and my family," said Elizabeth, +coolly, "will be rather a confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a report +is in existence." + +"If! do you then pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been +industriously circulated by yourselves? Do you not know that such a +report is spread abroad?" + +"I never heard that it was." + +"And can you likewise declare, that there is no _foundation_ for it?" + +"I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. _You_ +may ask questions, which _I_ shall not choose to answer." + +"This is not to be borne. Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied. Has +he, has my nephew, made you an offer of marriage?" + +"Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible." + +"It ought to be so; it must be so, while he retains the use of his +reason. But _your_ arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation, +have made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. You +may have drawn him in." + +"If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it." + +"Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I have not been accustomed to such +language as this. I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world, +and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns." + +"But you are not entitled to know _mine_; nor will such behaviour as +this, ever induce me to be explicit." + +"Let me be rightly understood. This match, to which you have the +presumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Mr. Darcy is +engaged to _my daughter_. Now what have you to say?" + +"Only this; that if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he will +make an offer to me." + +Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment, and then replied, + +"The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy, +they have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of +_his_ mother, as well as of her's. While in their cradles, we planned +the union: and now, at the moment when the wishes of both sisters would +be accomplished, in their marriage, to be prevented by a young woman of +inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to +the family! Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends? To his +tacit engagement with Miss De Bourgh? Are you lost to every feeling of +propriety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say, that from his +earliest hours he was destined for his cousin?" + +"Yes, and I had heard it before. But what is that to me? If there is no +other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be +kept from it, by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to marry +Miss De Bourgh. You both did as much as you could, in planning the +marriage. Its completion depended on others. If Mr. Darcy is neither by +honour nor inclination confined to his cousin, why is not he to make +another choice? And if I am that choice, why may not I accept him?" + +"Because honour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest, forbid it. Yes, Miss +Bennet, interest; for do not expect to be noticed by his family or +friends, if you wilfully act against the inclinations of all. You will +be censured, slighted, and despised, by every one connected with him. +Your alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned +by any of us." + +"These are heavy misfortunes," replied Elizabeth. "But the wife of Mr. +Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily +attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause +to repine." + +"Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you! Is this your gratitude +for my attentions to you last spring? Is nothing due to me on that +score? + +"Let us sit down. You are to understand, Miss Bennet, that I came here +with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will I be +dissuaded from it. I have not been used to submit to any person's whims. +I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment." + +"_That_ will make your ladyship's situation at present more pitiable; +but it will have no effect on _me_." + +"I will not be interrupted. Hear me in silence. My daughter and my +nephew are formed for each other. They are descended on the maternal +side, from the same noble line; and, on the father's, from respectable, +honourable, and ancient, though untitled families. Their fortune on both +sides is splendid. They are destined for each other by the voice of +every member of their respective houses; and what is to divide them? The +upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, or +fortune. Is this to be endured! But it must not, shall not be. If you +were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere, +in which you have been brought up." + +"In marrying your nephew, I should not consider myself as quitting that +sphere. He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman's daughter; so far we are +equal." + +"True. You _are_ a gentleman's daughter. But who was your mother? Who +are your uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their +condition." + +"Whatever my connections may be," said Elizabeth, "if your nephew does +not object to them, they can be nothing to _you_." + +"Tell me once for all, are you engaged to him?" + +Though Elizabeth would not, for the mere purpose of obliging Lady +Catherine, have answered this question; she could not but say, after a +moment's deliberation, + +"I am not." + +Lady Catherine seemed pleased. + +"And will you promise me, never to enter into such an engagement?" + +"I will make no promise of the kind." + +"Miss Bennet I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find a more +reasonable young woman. But do not deceive yourself into a belief that I +will ever recede. I shall not go away, till you have given me the +assurance I require." + +"And I certainly _never_ shall give it. I am not to be intimidated into +anything so wholly unreasonable. Your ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry +your daughter; but would my giving you the wished-for promise, make +_their_ marriage at all more probable? Supposing him to be attached to +me, would _my_ refusing to accept his hand, make him wish to bestow it +on his cousin? Allow me to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with +which you have supported this extraordinary application, have been as +frivolous as the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my +character, if you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these. +How far your nephew might approve of your interference in _his_ affairs, +I cannot tell; but you have certainly no right to concern yourself in +mine. I must beg, therefore, to be importuned no farther on the +subject." + +"Not so hasty, if you please. I have by no means done. To all the +objections I have already urged, I have still another to add. I am no +stranger to the particulars of your youngest sister's infamous +elopement. I know it all; that the young man's marrying her, was a +patched-up business, at the expence of your father and uncles. And is +_such_ a girl to be my nephew's sister? Is _her_ husband, is the son of +his late father's steward, to be his brother? Heaven and earth!--of what +are you thinking? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?" + +"You can _now_ have nothing farther to say," she resentfully answered. +"You have insulted me, in every possible method. I must beg to return to +the house." + +And she rose as she spoke. Lady Catherine rose also, and they turned +back. Her ladyship was highly incensed. + +"You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of my nephew! +Unfeeling, selfish girl! Do you not consider that a connection with you, +must disgrace him in the eyes of everybody?" + +"Lady Catherine, I have nothing farther to say. You know my sentiments." + +"You are then resolved to have him?" + +"I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner, +which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without +reference to _you_, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me." + +"It is well. You refuse, then, to oblige me. You refuse to obey the +claims of duty, honour, and gratitude. You are determined to ruin him in +the opinion of all his friends, and make him the contempt of the world." + +"Neither duty, nor honour, nor gratitude," replied Elizabeth, "have any +possible claim on me, in the present instance. No principle of either, +would be violated by my marriage with Mr. Darcy. And with regard to the +resentment of his family, or the indignation of the world, if the former +_were_ excited by his marrying me, it would not give me one moment's +concern--and the world in general would have too much sense to join in +the scorn." + +"And this is your real opinion! This is your final resolve! Very well. I +shall now know how to act. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that your +ambition will ever be gratified. I came to try you. I hoped to find you +reasonable; but depend upon it I will carry my point." + +In this manner Lady Catherine talked on, till they were at the door of +the carriage, when turning hastily round, she added, + +"I take no leave of you, Miss Bennet. I send no compliments to your +mother. You deserve no such attention. I am most seriously displeased." + +Elizabeth made no answer; and without attempting to persuade her +ladyship to return into the house, walked quietly into it herself. She +heard the carriage drive away as she proceeded up stairs. Her mother +impatiently met her at the door of the dressing-room, to ask why Lady +Catherine would not come in again and rest herself. + +"She did not choose it," said her daughter, "she would go." + +"She is a very fine-looking woman! and her calling here was prodigiously +civil! for she only came, I suppose, to tell us the Collinses were well. +She is on her road somewhere, I dare say, and so passing through +Meryton, thought she might as well call on you. I suppose she had +nothing particular to say to you, Lizzy?" + +Elizabeth was forced to give into a little falsehood here; for to +acknowledge the substance of their conversation was impossible. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +The discomposure of spirits, which this extraordinary visit threw +Elizabeth into, could not be easily overcome; nor could she for many +hours, learn to think of it less than incessantly. Lady Catherine it +appeared, had actually taken the trouble of this journey from Rosings, +for the sole purpose of breaking off her supposed engagement with Mr. +Darcy. It was a rational scheme to be sure! but from what the report of +their engagement could originate, Elizabeth was at a loss to imagine; +till she recollected that _his_ being the intimate friend of Bingley, +and _her_ being the sister of Jane, was enough, at a time when the +expectation of one wedding, made every body eager for another, to supply +the idea. She had not herself forgotten to feel that the marriage of her +sister must bring them more frequently together. And her neighbours at +Lucas lodge, therefore, (for through their communication with the +Collinses, the report she concluded had reached lady Catherine) had only +set _that_ down, as almost certain and immediate, which _she_ had looked +forward to as possible, at some future time. + +In revolving lady Catherine's expressions, however, she could not help +feeling some uneasiness as to the possible consequence of her persisting +in this interference. From what she had said of her resolution to +prevent their marriage, it occurred to Elizabeth that she must meditate +an application to her nephew; and how _he_ might take a similar +representation of the evils attached to a connection with her, she dared +not pronounce. She knew not the exact degree of his affection for his +aunt, or his dependence on her judgment, but it was natural to suppose +that he thought much higher of her ladyship than _she_ could do; and it +was certain, that in enumerating the miseries of a marriage with _one_, +whose immediate connections were so unequal to his own, his aunt would +address him on his weakest side. With his notions of dignity, he would +probably feel that the arguments, which to Elizabeth had appeared weak +and ridiculous, contained much good sense and solid reasoning. + +If he had been wavering before, as to what he should do, which had often +seemed likely, the advice and intreaty of so near a relation might +settle every doubt, and determine him at once to be as happy, as dignity +unblemished could make him. In that case he would return no more. Lady +Catherine might see him in her way through town; and his engagement to +Bingley of coming again to Netherfield must give way. + +"If, therefore, an excuse for not keeping his promise, should come to +his friend within a few days," she added, "I shall know how to +understand it. I shall then give over every expectation, every wish of +his constancy. If he is satisfied with only regretting me, when he might +have obtained my affections and hand, I shall soon cease to regret him +at all." + + * * * * * + +The surprise of the rest of the family, on hearing who their visitor had +been, was very great; but they obligingly satisfied it, with the same +kind of supposition, which had appeased Mrs. Bennet's curiosity; and +Elizabeth was spared from much teazing on the subject. + +The next morning, as she was going down stairs, she was met by her +father, who came out of his library with a letter in his hand. + +"Lizzy," said he, "I was going to look for you; come into my room." + +She followed him thither; and her curiosity to know what he had to tell +her, was heightened by the supposition of its being in some manner +connected with the letter he held. It suddenly struck her that it might +be from lady Catherine; and she anticipated with dismay all the +consequent explanations. + +She followed her father to the fire place, and they both sat down. He +then said, + +"I have received a letter this morning that has astonished me +exceedingly. As it principally concerns yourself, you ought to know its +contents. I did not know before, that I had _two_ daughters on the brink +of matrimony. Let me congratulate you, on a very important conquest." + +The colour now rushed into Elizabeth's cheeks in the instantaneous +conviction of its being a letter from the nephew, instead of the aunt; +and she was undetermined whether most to be pleased that he explained +himself at all, or offended that his letter was not rather addressed to +herself; when her father continued, + +"You look conscious. Young ladies have great penetration in such matters +as these; but I think I may defy even _your_ sagacity, to discover the +name of your admirer. This letter is from Mr. Collins." + +"From Mr. Collins! and what can _he_ have to say?" + +"Something very much to the purpose of course. He begins with +congratulations on the approaching nuptials of my eldest daughter, of +which it seems he has been told, by some of the good-natured, gossiping +Lucases. I shall not sport with your impatience, by reading what he says +on that point. What relates to yourself, is as follows. "Having thus +offered you the sincere congratulations of Mrs. Collins and myself on +this happy event, let me now add a short hint on the subject of another: +of which we have been advertised by the same authority. Your daughter +Elizabeth, it is presumed, will not long bear the name of Bennet, after +her elder sister has resigned it, and the chosen partner of her fate, +may be reasonably looked up to, as one of the most illustrious +personages in this land." + +"Can you possibly guess, Lizzy, who is meant by this?" "This young +gentleman is blessed in a peculiar way, with every thing the heart of +mortal can most desire,--splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive +patronage. Yet in spite of all these temptations, let me warn my cousin +Elizabeth, and yourself, of what evils you may incur, by a precipitate +closure with this gentleman's proposals, which, of course, you will be +inclined to take immediate advantage of." + +"Have you any idea, Lizzy, who this gentleman is? But now it comes out." + +"My motive for cautioning you, is as follows. We have reason to imagine +that his aunt, lady Catherine de Bourgh, does not look on the match with +a friendly eye." + +"_Mr. Darcy_, you see, is the man! Now, Lizzy, I think I _have_ +surprised you. Could he, or the Lucases, have pitched on any man, within +the circle of our acquaintance, whose name would have given the lie more +effectually to what they related? Mr. Darcy, who never looks at any +woman but to see a blemish, and who probably never looked at _you_ in +his life! It is admirable!" + +Elizabeth tried to join in her father's pleasantry, but could only force +one most reluctant smile. Never had his wit been directed in a manner so +little agreeable to her. + +"Are you not diverted?" + +"Oh! yes. Pray read on." + +"After mentioning the likelihood of this marriage to her ladyship last +night, she immediately, with her usual condescension, expressed what she +felt on the occasion; when it became apparent, that on the score of some +family objections on the part of my cousin, she would never give her +consent to what she termed so disgraceful a match. I thought it my duty +to give the speediest intelligence of this to my cousin, that she and +her noble admirer may be aware of what they are about, and not run +hastily into a marriage which has not been properly sanctioned." "Mr. +Collins moreover adds," "I am truly rejoiced that my cousin Lydia's sad +business has been so well hushed up, and am only concerned that their +living together before the marriage took place, should be so generally +known. I must not, however, neglect the duties of my station, or refrain +from declaring my amazement, at hearing that you received the young +couple into your house as soon as they were married. It was an +encouragement of vice; and had I been the rector of Longbourn, I should +very strenuously have opposed it. You ought certainly to forgive them as +a christian, but never to admit them in your sight, or allow their names +to be mentioned in your hearing." "_That_ is his notion of christian +forgiveness! The rest of his letter is only about his dear Charlotte's +situation, and his expectation of a young olive-branch. But, Lizzy, you +look as if you did not enjoy it. You are not going to be _Missish_, I +hope, and pretend to be affronted at an idle report. For what do we +live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our +turn?" + +"Oh!" cried Elizabeth, "I am excessively diverted. But it is so +strange!" + +"Yes--_that_ is what makes it amusing. Had they fixed on any other man +it would have been nothing; but _his_ perfect indifference, and _your_ +pointed dislike, make it so delightfully absurd! Much as I abominate +writing, I would not give up Mr. Collins's correspondence for any +consideration. Nay, when I read a letter of his, I cannot help giving +him the preference even over Wickham, much as I value the impudence and +hypocrisy of my son-in-law. And pray, Lizzy, what said Lady Catherine +about this report? Did she call to refuse her consent?" + +To this question his daughter replied only with a laugh; and as it had +been asked without the least suspicion, she was not distressed by his +repeating it. Elizabeth had never been more at a loss to make her +feelings appear what they were not. It was necessary to laugh, when she +would rather have cried. Her father had most cruelly mortified her, by +what he said of Mr. Darcy's indifference, and she could do nothing but +wonder at such a want of penetration, or fear that perhaps, instead of +his seeing too _little_, she might have fancied too _much_. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +Instead of receiving any such letter of excuse from his friend, as +Elizabeth half expected Mr. Bingley to do, he was able to bring Darcy +with him to Longbourn before many days had passed after Lady Catherine's +visit. The gentlemen arrived early; and, before Mrs. Bennet had time to +tell him of their having seen his aunt, of which her daughter sat in +momentary dread, Bingley, who wanted to be alone with Jane, proposed +their all walking out. It was agreed to. Mrs. Bennet was not in the +habit of walking, Mary could never spare time, but the remaining five +set off together. Bingley and Jane, however, soon allowed the others to +outstrip them. They lagged behind, while Elizabeth, Kitty, and Darcy, +were to entertain each other. Very little was said by either; Kitty was +too much afraid of him to talk; Elizabeth was secretly forming a +desperate resolution; and perhaps he might be doing the same. + +They walked towards the Lucases, because Kitty wished to call upon +Maria; and as Elizabeth saw no occasion for making it a general concern, +when Kitty left them, she went boldly on with him alone. Now was the +moment for her resolution to be executed, and, while her courage was +high, she immediately said, + +"Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving +relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding your's. I +can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my poor +sister. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to +acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest +of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express." + +"I am sorry, exceedingly sorry," replied Darcy, in a tone of surprise +and emotion, "that you have ever been informed of what may, in a +mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I did not think Mrs. +Gardiner was so little to be trusted." + +"You must not blame my aunt. Lydia's thoughtlessness first betrayed to +me that you had been concerned in the matter; and, of course, I could +not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again, +in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced +you to take so much trouble, and bear so many mortifications, for the +sake of discovering them." + +"If you _will_ thank me," he replied, "let it be for yourself alone. +That the wish of giving happiness to you, might add force to the other +inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your +_family_ owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe, I thought +only of _you_." + +Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, +her companion added, "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your +feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. _My_ +affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence +me on this subject for ever." + +Elizabeth feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of +his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not +very fluently, gave him to understand, that her sentiments had undergone +so material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to make +her receive with gratitude and pleasure, his present assurances. The +happiness which this reply produced, was such as he had probably never +felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as +warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. Had Elizabeth +been able to encounter his eye, she might have seen how well the +expression of heart-felt delight, diffused over his face, became him; +but, though she could not look, she could listen, and he told her of +feelings, which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his +affection every moment more valuable. + +They walked on, without knowing in what direction. There was too much to +be thought; and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects. She +soon learnt that they were indebted for their present good understanding +to the efforts of his aunt, who _did_ call on him in her return through +London, and there relate her journey to Longbourn, its motive, and the +substance of her conversation with Elizabeth; dwelling emphatically on +every expression of the latter, which, in her ladyship's apprehension, +peculiarly denoted her perverseness and assurance, in the belief that +such a relation must assist her endeavours to obtain that promise from +her nephew, which _she_ had refused to give. But, unluckily for her +ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise. + +"It taught me to hope," said he, "as I had scarcely ever allowed myself +to hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain, that, +had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have +acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly." + +Elizabeth coloured and laughed as she replied, "Yes, you know enough of +my _frankness_ to believe me capable of _that_. After abusing you so +abominably to your face, I could have no scruple in abusing you to all +your relations." + +"What did you say of me, that I did not deserve? For, though your +accusations were ill-founded, formed on mistaken premises, my behaviour +to you at the time, had merited the severest reproof. It was +unpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence." + +"We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that +evening," said Elizabeth. "The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, +will be irreproachable; but since then, we have both, I hope, improved +in civility." + +"I cannot be so easily reconciled to myself. The recollection of what I +then said, of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of +it, is now, and has been many months, inexpressibly painful to me. Your +reproof, so well applied, I shall never forget: 'had you behaved in a +more gentleman-like manner.' Those were your words. You know not, you +can scarcely conceive, how they have tortured me;--though it was some +time, I confess, before I was reasonable enough to allow their justice." + +"I was certainly very far from expecting them to make so strong an +impression. I had not the smallest idea of their being ever felt in such +a way." + +"I can easily believe it. You thought me then devoid of every proper +feeling, I am sure you did. The turn of your countenance I shall never +forget, as you said that I could not have addressed you in any possible +way, that would induce you to accept me." + +"Oh! do not repeat what I then said. These recollections will not do at +all. I assure you, that I have long been most heartily ashamed of it." + +Darcy mentioned his letter. "Did it," said he, "did it _soon_ make you +think better of me? Did you, on reading it, give any credit to its +contents?" + +She explained what its effect on her had been, and how gradually all her +former prejudices had been removed. + +"I knew," said he, "that what I wrote must give you pain, but it was +necessary. I hope you have destroyed the letter. There was one part +especially, the opening of it, which I should dread your having the +power of reading again. I can remember some expressions which might +justly make you hate me." + +"The letter shall certainly be burnt, if you believe it essential to the +preservation of my regard; but, though we have both reason to think my +opinions not entirely unalterable, they are not, I hope, quite so easily +changed as that implies." + +"When I wrote that letter," replied Darcy, "I believed myself perfectly +calm and cool, but I am since convinced that it was written in a +dreadful bitterness of spirit." + +"The letter, perhaps, began in bitterness, but it did not end so. The +adieu is charity itself. But think no more of the letter. The feelings +of the person who wrote, and the person who received it, are now so +widely different from what they were then, that every unpleasant +circumstance attending it, ought to be forgotten. You must learn some +of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you +pleasure." + +"I cannot give you credit for any philosophy of the kind. _Your_ +retrospections must be so totally void of reproach, that the contentment +arising from them, is not of philosophy, but what is much better, of +ignorance. But with _me_, it is not so. Painful recollections will +intrude, which cannot, which ought not to be repelled. I have been a +selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a +child I was taught what was _right_, but I was not taught to correct my +temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride +and conceit. Unfortunately an only son, (for many years an only _child_) +I was spoilt by my parents, who though good themselves, (my father +particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable,) allowed, encouraged, +almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing, to care for none beyond +my own family circle, to think meanly of all the rest of the world, to +_wish_ at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with +my own. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might +still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not +owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most +advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a +doubt of my reception. You shewed me how insufficient were all my +pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased." + +"Had you then persuaded yourself that I should?" + +"Indeed I had. What will you think of my vanity? I believed you to be +wishing, expecting my addresses." + +"My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally I assure you. +I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me wrong. +How you must have hated me after _that_ evening?" + +"Hate you! I was angry perhaps at first, but my anger soon began to take +a proper direction." + +"I am almost afraid of asking what you thought of me; when we met at +Pemberley. You blamed me for coming?" + +"No indeed; I felt nothing but surprise." + +"Your surprise could not be greater than _mine_ in being noticed by you. +My conscience told me that I deserved no extraordinary politeness, and I +confess that I did not expect to receive _more_ than my due." + +"My object _then_," replied Darcy, "was to shew you, by every civility +in my power, that I was not so mean as to resent the past; and I hoped +to obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill opinion, by letting you +see that your reproofs had been attended to. How soon any other wishes +introduced themselves I can hardly tell, but I believe in about half an +hour after I had seen you." + +He then told her of Georgiana's delight in her acquaintance, and of her +disappointment at its sudden interruption; which naturally leading to +the cause of that interruption, she soon learnt that his resolution of +following her from Derbyshire in quest of her sister, had been formed +before he quitted the inn, and that his gravity and thoughtfulness +there, had arisen from no other struggles than what such a purpose must +comprehend. + +She expressed her gratitude again, but it was too painful a subject to +each, to be dwelt on farther. + +After walking several miles in a leisurely manner, and too busy to know +any thing about it, they found at last, on examining their watches, that +it was time to be at home. + +"What could become of Mr. Bingley and Jane!" was a wonder which +introduced the discussion of _their_ affairs. Darcy was delighted with +their engagement; his friend had given him the earliest information of +it. + +"I must ask whether you were surprised?" said Elizabeth. + +"Not at all. When I went away, I felt that it would soon happen." + +"That is to say, you had given your permission. I guessed as much." And +though he exclaimed at the term, she found that it had been pretty much +the case. + +"On the evening before my going to London," said he "I made a confession +to him, which I believe I ought to have made long ago. I told him of +all that had occurred to make my former interference in his affairs, +absurd and impertinent. His surprise was great. He had never had the +slightest suspicion. I told him, moreover, that I believed myself +mistaken in supposing, as I had done, that your sister was indifferent +to him; and as I could easily perceive that his attachment to her was +unabated, I felt no doubt of their happiness together." + +Elizabeth could not help smiling at his easy manner of directing his +friend. + +"Did you speak from your own observation," said she, "when you told him +that my sister loved him, or merely from my information last spring?" + +"From the former. I had narrowly observed her during the two visits +which I had lately made her here; and I was convinced of her affection." + +"And your assurance of it, I suppose, carried immediate conviction to +him." + +"It did. Bingley is most unaffectedly modest. His diffidence had +prevented his depending on his own judgment in so anxious a case, but +his reliance on mine, made every thing easy. I was obliged to confess +one thing, which for a time, and not unjustly, offended him. I could not +allow myself to conceal that your sister had been in town three months +last winter, that I had known it, and purposely kept it from him. He was +angry. But his anger, I am persuaded, lasted no longer than he remained +in any doubt of your sister's sentiments. He has heartily forgiven me +now." + +Elizabeth longed to observe that Mr. Bingley had been a most delightful +friend; so easily guided that his worth was invaluable; but she checked +herself. She remembered that he had yet to learn to be laught at, and it +was rather too early to begin. In anticipating the happiness of Bingley, +which of course was to be inferior only to his own, he continued the +conversation till they reached the house. In the hall they parted. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +"My dear Lizzy, where can you have been walking to?" was a question +which Elizabeth received from Jane as soon as she entered the room, and +from all the others when they sat down to table. She had only to say in +reply, that they had wandered about, till she was beyond her own +knowledge. She coloured as she spoke; but neither that, nor any thing +else, awakened a suspicion of the truth. + +The evening passed quietly, unmarked by any thing extraordinary. The +acknowledged lovers talked and laughed, the unacknowledged were silent. +Darcy was not of a disposition in which happiness overflows in mirth; +and Elizabeth, agitated and confused, rather _knew_ that she was happy, +than _felt_ herself to be so; for, besides the immediate embarrassment, +there were other evils before her. She anticipated what would be felt in +the family when her situation became known; she was aware that no one +liked him but Jane; and even feared that with the others it was a +_dislike_ which not all his fortune and consequence might do away. + +At night she opened her heart to Jane. Though suspicion was very far +from Miss Bennet's general habits, she was absolutely incredulous here. + +"You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be!--engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no, +you shall not deceive me. I know it to be impossible." + +"This is a wretched beginning indeed! My sole dependence was on you; and +I am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I am +in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we are +engaged." + +Jane looked at her doubtingly. "Oh, Lizzy! it cannot be. I know how much +you dislike him." + +"You know nothing of the matter. _That_ is all to be forgot. Perhaps I +did not always love him so well as I do now. But in such cases as these, +a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever +remember it myself." + +Miss Bennet still looked all amazement. Elizabeth again, and more +seriously assured her of its truth. + +"Good Heaven! can it be really so! Yet now I must believe you," cried +Jane. "My dear, dear Lizzy, I would--I do congratulate you--but are you +certain? forgive the question--are you quite certain that you can be +happy with him?" + +"There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already, that +we are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased, +Jane? Shall you like to have such a brother?" + +"Very, very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more +delight. But we considered it, we talked of it as impossible. And do you +really love him quite well enough? Oh, Lizzy! do any thing rather than +marry without affection. Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought +to do?" + +"Oh, yes! You will only think I feel _more_ than I ought to do, when I +tell you all." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, I must confess, that I love him better than I do Bingley. I am +afraid you will be angry." + +"My dearest sister, now _be_ be serious. I want to talk very seriously. +Let me know every thing that I am to know, without delay. Will you tell +me how long you have loved him?" + +"It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began. +But I believe I must date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds +at Pemberley." + +Another intreaty that she would be serious, however, produced the +desired effect; and she soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances of +attachment. When convinced on that article, Miss Bennet had nothing +farther to wish. + +"Now I am quite happy," said she, "for you will be as happy as myself. I +always had a value for him. Were it for nothing but his love of you, I +must always have esteemed him; but now, as Bingley's friend and your +husband, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. But +Lizzy, you have been very sly, very reserved with me. How little did you +tell me of what passed at Pemberley and Lambton! I owe all that I know +of it, to another, not to you." + +Elizabeth told her the motives of her secrecy. She had been unwilling to +mention Bingley; and the unsettled state of her own feelings had made +her equally avoid the name of his friend. But now she would no longer +conceal from her, his share in Lydia's marriage. All was acknowledged, +and half the night spent in conversation. + + * * * * * + +"Good gracious!" cried Mrs. Bennet, as she stood at a window the next +morning, "if that disagreeable Mr. Darcy is not coming here again with +our dear Bingley! What can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always +coming here? I had no notion but he would go a shooting, or something or +other, and not disturb us with his company. What shall we do with him? +Lizzy, you must walk out with him again, that he may not be in Bingley's +way." + +Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at so convenient a proposal; yet +was really vexed that her mother should be always giving him such an +epithet. + +As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at her so expressively, and +shook hands with such warmth, as left no doubt of his good information; +and he soon afterwards said aloud, "Mr. Bennet, have you no more lanes +hereabouts in which Lizzy may lose her way again to-day?" + +"I advise Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty," said Mrs. Bennet, "to walk +to Oakham Mount this morning. It is a nice long walk, and Mr. Darcy has +never seen the view." + +"It may do very well for the others," replied Mr. Bingley; "but I am +sure it will be too much for Kitty. Wont it, Kitty?" + +Kitty owned that she had rather stay at home. Darcy professed a great +curiosity to see the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently +consented. As she went up stairs to get ready, Mrs. Bennet followed her, +saying, + +"I am quite sorry, Lizzy, that you should be forced to have that +disagreeable man all to yourself. But I hope you will not mind it: it is +all for Jane's sake, you know; and there is no occasion for talking to +him, except just now and then. So, do not put yourself to +inconvenience." + +During their walk, it was resolved that Mr. Bennet's consent should be +asked in the course of the evening. Elizabeth reserved to herself the +application for her mother's. She could not determine how her mother +would take it; sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeur +would be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man. But whether she +were violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it, it +was certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit to +her sense; and she could no more bear that Mr. Darcy should hear the +first raptures of her joy, than the first vehemence of her +disapprobation. + + * * * * * + +In the evening, soon after Mr. Bennet withdrew to the library, she saw +Mr. Darcy rise also and follow him, and her agitation on seeing it was +extreme. She did not fear her father's opposition, but he was going to +be made unhappy, and that it should be through her means, that _she_, +his favourite child, should be distressing him by her choice, should be +filling him with fears and regrets in disposing of her, was a wretched +reflection, and she sat in misery till Mr. Darcy appeared again, when, +looking at him, she was a little relieved by his smile. In a few minutes +he approached the table where she was sitting with Kitty; and, while +pretending to admire her work, said in a whisper, "Go to your father, he +wants you in the library." She was gone directly. + +Her father was walking about the room, looking grave and anxious. +"Lizzy," said he, "what are you doing? Are you out of your senses, to be +accepting this man? Have not you always hated him?" + +How earnestly did she then wish that her former opinions had been more +reasonable, her expressions more moderate! It would have spared her from +explanations and professions which it was exceedingly awkward to give; +but they were now necessary, and she assured him with some confusion, of +her attachment to Mr. Darcy. + +"Or in other words, you are determined to have him. He is rich, to be +sure, and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than Jane. +But will they make you happy?" + +"Have you any other objection," said Elizabeth, "than your belief of my +indifference?" + +"None at all. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; but +this would be nothing if you really liked him." + +"I do, I do like him," she replied, with tears in her eyes, "I love him. +Indeed he has no improper pride. He is perfectly amiable. You do not +know what he really is; then pray do not pain me by speaking of him in +such terms." + +"Lizzy," said her father, "I have given him my consent. He is the kind +of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse any thing, which he +condescended to ask. I now give it to _you_, if you are resolved on +having him. But let me advise you to think better of it. I know your +disposition, Lizzy. I know that you could be neither happy nor +respectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband; unless you looked +up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the +greatest danger in an unequal marriage. You could scarcely escape +discredit and misery. My child, let me not have the grief of seeing +_you_ unable to respect your partner in life. You know not what you are +about." + +Elizabeth, still more affected, was earnest and solemn in her reply; +and at length, by repeated assurances that Mr. Darcy was really the +object of her choice, by explaining the gradual change which her +estimation of him had undergone, relating her absolute certainty that +his affection was not the work of a day, but had stood the test of many +months suspense, and enumerating with energy all his good qualities, she +did conquer her father's incredulity, and reconcile him to the match. + +"Well, my dear," said he, when she ceased speaking, "I have no more to +say. If this be the case, he deserves you. I could not have parted with +you, my Lizzy, to any one less worthy." + +To complete the favourable impression, she then told him what Mr. Darcy +had voluntarily done for Lydia. He heard her with astonishment. + +"This is an evening of wonders, indeed! And so, Darcy did every thing; +made up the match, gave the money, paid the fellow's debts, and got him +his commission! So much the better. It will save me a world of trouble +and economy. Had it been your uncle's doing, I must and _would_ have +paid him; but these violent young lovers carry every thing their own +way. I shall offer to pay him to-morrow; he will rant and storm about +his love for you, and there will be an end of the matter." + +He then recollected her embarrassment a few days before, on his reading +Mr. Collins's letter; and after laughing at her some time, allowed her +at last to go--saying, as she quitted the room, "If any young men come +for Mary or Kitty, send them in, for I am quite at leisure." + +Elizabeth's mind was now relieved from a very heavy weight; and, after +half an hour's quiet reflection in her own room, she was able to join +the others with tolerable composure. Every thing was too recent for +gaiety, but the evening passed tranquilly away; there was no longer any +thing material to be dreaded, and the comfort of ease and familiarity +would come in time. + +When her mother went up to her dressing-room at night, she followed her, +and made the important communication. Its effect was most +extraordinary; for on first hearing it, Mrs. Bennet sat quite still, and +unable to utter a syllable. Nor was it under many, many minutes, that +she could comprehend what she heard; though not in general backward to +credit what was for the advantage of her family, or that came in the +shape of a lover to any of them. She began at length to recover, to +fidget about in her chair, get up, sit down again, wonder, and bless +herself. + +"Good gracious! Lord bless me! only think! dear me! Mr. Darcy! Who would +have thought it! And is it really true? Oh! my sweetest Lizzy! how rich +and how great you will be! What pin-money, what jewels, what carriages +you will have! Jane's is nothing to it--nothing at all. I am so +pleased--so happy. Such a charming man!--so handsome! so tall!--Oh, my +dear Lizzy! pray apologise for my having disliked him so much before. I +hope he will overlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town! Every thing +that is charming! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh, +Lord! What will become of me. I shall go distracted." + +This was enough to prove that her approbation need not be doubted: and +Elizabeth, rejoicing that such an effusion was heard only by herself, +soon went away. But before she had been three minutes in her own room, +her mother followed her. + +"My dearest child," she cried, "I can think of nothing else! Ten +thousand a year, and very likely more! 'Tis as good as a Lord! And a +special licence. You must and shall be married by a special licence. But +my dearest love, tell me what dish Mr. Darcy is particularly fond of, +that I may have it to-morrow." + +This was a sad omen of what her mother's behaviour to the gentleman +himself might be; and Elizabeth found, that though in the certain +possession of his warmest affection, and secure of her relations' +consent, there was still something to be wished for. But the morrow +passed off much better than she expected; for Mrs. Bennet luckily stood +in such awe of her intended son-in-law, that she ventured not to speak +to him, unless it was in her power to offer him any attention, or mark +her deference for his opinion. + +Elizabeth had the satisfaction of seeing her father taking pains to get +acquainted with him; and Mr. Bennet soon assured her that he was rising +every hour in his esteem. + +"I admire all my three sons-in-law highly," said he. "Wickham, perhaps, +is my favourite; but I think I shall like _your_ husband quite as well +as Jane's." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Elizabeth's spirits soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr. +Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. "How could +you begin?" said she. "I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when +you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first +place?" + +"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which +laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I +knew that I _had_ begun." + +"My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners--my behaviour +to _you_ was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke +to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now be sincere; +did you admire me for my impertinence?" + +"For the liveliness of your mind, I did." + +"You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less. +The fact is, that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious +attention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speaking +and looking, and thinking for _your_ approbation alone. I roused, and +interested you, because I was so unlike _them_. Had you not been really +amiable you would have hated me for it; but in spite of the pains you +took to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just; and +in your heart, you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously +courted you. There--I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it; +and really, all things considered, I begin to think it perfectly +reasonable. To be sure, you knew no actual good of me--but nobody thinks +of _that_ when they fall in love." + +"Was there no good in your affectionate behaviour to Jane, while she was +ill at Netherfield?" + +"Dearest Jane! who could have done less for her? But make a virtue of it +by all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you are +to exaggerate them as much as possible; and, in return, it belongs to me +to find occasions for teazing and quarrelling with you as often as may +be; and I shall begin directly by asking you what made you so unwilling +to come to the point at last. What made you so shy of me, when you first +called, and afterwards dined here? Why, especially, when you called, did +you look as if you did not care about me?" + +"Because you were grave and silent, and gave me no encouragement." + +"But I was embarrassed." + +"And so was I." + +"You might have talked to me more when you came to dinner." + +"A man who had felt less, might." + +"How unlucky that you should have a reasonable answer to give, and that +I should be so reasonable as to admit it! But I wonder how long you +_would_ have gone on, if you had been left to yourself. I wonder when +you _would_ have spoken, if I had not asked you! My resolution of +thanking you for your kindness to Lydia had certainly great effect. _Too +much_, I am afraid; for what becomes of the moral, if our comfort +springs from a breach of promise, for I ought not to have mentioned the +subject? This will never do." + +"You need not distress yourself. The moral will be perfectly fair. Lady +Catherine's unjustifiable endeavours to separate us, were the means of +removing all my doubts. I am not indebted for my present happiness to +your eager desire of expressing your gratitude. I was not in a humour to +wait for any opening of your's. My aunt's intelligence had given me +hope, and I was determined at once to know every thing." + +"Lady Catherine has been of infinite use, which ought to make her happy, +for she loves to be of use. But tell me, what did you come down to +Netherfield for? Was it merely to ride to Longbourn and be embarrassed? +or had you intended any more serious consequence?" + +"My real purpose was to see _you_, and to judge, if I could, whether I +might ever hope to make you love me. My avowed one, or what I avowed to +myself, was to see whether your sister were still partial to Bingley, +and if she were, to make the confession to him which I have since made." + +"Shall you ever have courage to announce to Lady Catherine, what is to +befall her?" + +"I am more likely to want time than courage, Elizabeth. But it ought to +be done, and if you will give me a sheet of paper, it shall be done +directly." + +"And if I had not a letter to write myself, I might sit by you, and +admire the evenness of your writing, as another young lady once did. But +I have an aunt, too, who must not be longer neglected." + +From an unwillingness to confess how much her intimacy with Mr. Darcy +had been over-rated, Elizabeth had never yet answered Mrs. Gardiner's +long letter, but now, having _that_ to communicate which she knew would +be most welcome, she was almost ashamed to find, that her uncle and aunt +had already lost three days of happiness, and immediately wrote as +follows: + + "I would have thanked you before, my dear aunt, as I ought to have + done, for your long, kind, satisfactory, detail of particulars; but + to say the truth, I was too cross to write. You supposed more than + really existed. But _now_ suppose as much as you chuse; give a + loose to your fancy, indulge your imagination in every possible + flight which the subject will afford, and unless you believe me + actually married, you cannot greatly err. You must write again very + soon, and praise him a great deal more than you did in your last. I + thank you, again and again, for not going to the Lakes. How could I + be so silly as to wish it! Your idea of the ponies is delightful. + We will go round the Park every day. I am the happiest creature in + the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but not one + with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles, I + laugh. Mr. Darcy sends you all the love in the world, that he can + spare from me. You are all to come to Pemberley at Christmas. + + Your's, &c." + +Mr. Darcy's letter to Lady Catherine, was in a different style; and +still different from either, was what Mr. Bennet sent to Mr. Collins, in +reply to his last. + + "DEAR SIR, + + "I must trouble you once more for congratulations. Elizabeth will + soon be the wife of Mr. Darcy. Console Lady Catherine as well as + you can. But, if I were you, I would stand by the nephew. He has + more to give. + + "Your's sincerely, &c." + +Miss Bingley's congratulations to her brother, on his approaching +marriage, were all that was affectionate and insincere. She wrote even +to Jane on the occasion, to express her delight, and repeat all her +former professions of regard. Jane was not deceived, but she was +affected; and though feeling no reliance on her, could not help writing +her a much kinder answer than she knew was deserved. + +The joy which Miss Darcy expressed on receiving similar information, was +as sincere as her brother's in sending it. Four sides of paper were +insufficient to contain all her delight, and all her earnest desire of +being loved by her sister. + +Before any answer could arrive from Mr. Collins, or any congratulations +to Elizabeth, from his wife, the Longbourn family heard that the +Collinses were come themselves to Lucas lodge. The reason of this sudden +removal was soon evident. Lady Catherine had been rendered so +exceedingly angry by the contents of her nephew's letter, that +Charlotte, really rejoicing in the match, was anxious to get away till +the storm was blown over. At such a moment, the arrival of her friend +was a sincere pleasure to Elizabeth, though in the course of their +meetings she must sometimes think the pleasure dearly bought, when she +saw Mr. Darcy exposed to all the parading and obsequious civility of her +husband. He bore it however with admirable calmness. He could even +listen to Sir William Lucas, when he complimented him on carrying away +the brightest jewel of the country, and expressed his hopes of their all +meeting frequently at St. James's, with very decent composure. If he did +shrug his shoulders, it was not till Sir William was out of sight. + +Mrs. Philips's vulgarity was another, and perhaps a greater tax on his +forbearance; and though Mrs. Philips, as well as her sister, stood in +too much awe of him to speak with the familiarity which Bingley's good +humour encouraged, yet, whenever she _did_ speak, she must be vulgar. +Nor was her respect for him, though it made her more quiet, at all +likely to make her more elegant. Elizabeth did all she could, to shield +him from the frequent notice of either, and was ever anxious to keep him +to herself, and to those of her family with whom he might converse +without mortification; and though the uncomfortable feelings arising +from all this took from the season of courtship much of its pleasure, it +added to the hope of the future; and she looked forward with delight to +the time when they should be removed from society so little pleasing to +either, to all the comfort and elegance of their family party at +Pemberley. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet got +rid of her two most deserving daughters. With what delighted pride she +afterwards visited Mrs. Bingley and talked of Mrs. Darcy may be guessed. +I wish I could say, for the sake of her family, that the accomplishment +of her earnest desire in the establishment of so many of her children, +produced so happy an effect as to make her a sensible, amiable, +well-informed woman for the rest of her life; though perhaps it was +lucky for her husband, who might not have relished domestic felicity in +so unusual a form, that she still was occasionally nervous and +invariably silly. + +Mr. Bennet missed his second daughter exceedingly; his affection for her +drew him oftener from home than any thing else could do. He delighted in +going to Pemberley, especially when he was least expected. + +Mr. Bingley and Jane remained at Netherfield only a twelvemonth. So near +a vicinity to her mother and Meryton relations was not desirable even to +_his_ easy temper, or _her_ affectionate heart. The darling wish of his +sisters was then gratified; he bought an estate in a neighbouring county +to Derbyshire, and Jane and Elizabeth, in addition to every other source +of happiness, were within thirty miles of each other. + +Kitty, to her very material advantage, spent the chief of her time with +her two elder sisters. In society so superior to what she had generally +known, her improvement was great. She was not of so ungovernable a +temper as Lydia, and, removed from the influence of Lydia's example, she +became, by proper attention and management, less irritable, less +ignorant, and less insipid. From the farther disadvantage of Lydia's +society she was of course carefully kept, and though Mrs. Wickham +frequently invited her to come and stay with her, with the promise of +balls and young men, her father would never consent to her going. + +Mary was the only daughter who remained at home; and she was necessarily +drawn from the pursuit of accomplishments by Mrs. Bennet's being quite +unable to sit alone. Mary was obliged to mix more with the world, but +she could still moralize over every morning visit; and as she was no +longer mortified by comparisons between her sisters' beauty and her own, +it was suspected by her father that she submitted to the change without +much reluctance. + +As for Wickham and Lydia, their characters suffered no revolution from +the marriage of her sisters. He bore with philosophy the conviction that +Elizabeth must now become acquainted with whatever of his ingratitude +and falsehood had before been unknown to her; and in spite of every +thing, was not wholly without hope that Darcy might yet be prevailed on +to make his fortune. The congratulatory letter which Elizabeth received +from Lydia on her marriage, explained to her that, by his wife at least, +if not by himself, such a hope was cherished. The letter was to this +effect: + + "MY DEAR LIZZY, + + "I wish you joy. If you love Mr. Darcy half as well as I do my dear + Wickham, you must be very happy. It is a great comfort to have you + so rich, and when you have nothing else to do, I hope you will + think of us. I am sure Wickham would like a place at court very + much, and I do not think we shall have quite money enough to live + upon without some help. Any place would do, of about three or four + hundred a year; but, however, do not speak to Mr. Darcy about it, + if you had rather not. + + "Yours, &c." + +As it happened that Elizabeth had _much_ rather not, she endeavoured in +her answer to put an end to every intreaty and expectation of the kind. +Such relief, however, as it was in her power to afford, by the practice +of what might be called economy in her own private expences, she +frequently sent them. It had always been evident to her that such an +income as theirs, under the direction of two persons so extravagant in +their wants, and heedless of the future, must be very insufficient to +their support; and whenever they changed their quarters, either Jane or +herself were sure of being applied to, for some little assistance +towards discharging their bills. Their manner of living, even when the +restoration of peace dismissed them to a home, was unsettled in the +extreme. They were always moving from place to place in quest of a cheap +situation, and always spending more than they ought. His affection for +her soon sunk into indifference; her's lasted a little longer; and in +spite of her youth and her manners, she retained all the claims to +reputation which her marriage had given her. + +Though Darcy could never receive _him_ at Pemberley, yet, for +Elizabeth's sake, he assisted him farther in his profession. Lydia was +occasionally a visitor there, when her husband was gone to enjoy himself +in London or Bath; and with the Bingleys they both of them frequently +staid so long, that even Bingley's good humour was overcome, and he +proceeded so far as to _talk_ of giving them a hint to be gone. + +Miss Bingley was very deeply mortified by Darcy's marriage; but as she +thought it advisable to retain the right of visiting at Pemberley, she +dropt all her resentment; was fonder than ever of Georgiana, almost as +attentive to Darcy as heretofore, and paid off every arrear of civility +to Elizabeth. + +Pemberley was now Georgiana's home; and the attachment of the sisters +was exactly what Darcy had hoped to see. They were able to love each +other, even as well as they intended. Georgiana had the highest opinion +in the world of Elizabeth; though at first she often listened with an +astonishment bordering on alarm, at her lively, sportive, manner of +talking to her brother. He, who had always inspired in herself a respect +which almost overcame her affection, she now saw the object of open +pleasantry. Her mind received knowledge which had never before fallen in +her way. By Elizabeth's instructions she began to comprehend that a +woman may take liberties with her husband, which a brother will not +always allow in a sister more than ten years younger than himself. + +Lady Catherine was extremely indignant on the marriage of her nephew; +and as she gave way to all the genuine frankness of her character, in +her reply to the letter which announced its arrangement, she sent him +language so very abusive, especially of Elizabeth, that for some time +all intercourse was at an end. But at length, by Elizabeth's persuasion, +he was prevailed on to overlook the offence, and seek a reconciliation; +and, after a little farther resistance on the part of his aunt, her +resentment gave way, either to her affection for him, or her curiosity +to see how his wife conducted herself; and she condescended to wait on +them at Pemberley, in spite of that pollution which its woods had +received, not merely from the presence of such a mistress, but the +visits of her uncle and aunt from the city. + +With the Gardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms. Darcy, +as well as Elizabeth, really loved them; and they were both ever +sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringing +her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's note: + +Spelling and hyphen changes have been made so that there is consistency +within the book. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie of +Romeo and Juliet + + + + +Executive Director's Notes: + +In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all +the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have +been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they +are presented herein: + + Barnardo. Who's there? + Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold +your selfe + + Bar. Long liue the King + +*** + +As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words +or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the +original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling +to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions +that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u, +above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming +Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . . + +The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a +time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in +place of some "w"'s, etc. This was a common practice of the day, +as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend +more on a wider selection of characters than they had to. + +You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I +have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an +extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a +very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare. My father read an +assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University +in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the +purpose. To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available +. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes, +that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a +variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous +for signing his name with several different spellings. + +So, please take this into account when reading the comments below +made by our volunteer who prepared this file: you may see errors +that are "not" errors. . . . + +So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors, +here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie +of Romeo and Juliet. + +Michael S. Hart +Project Gutenberg +Executive Director + + +*** + + +Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't. This was taken from +a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can +come in ASCII to the printed text. + +The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the +conjoined ae have been changed to ae. I have left the spelling, +punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the +printed text. I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put +together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the +Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified +spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded +abbreviations as I have come across them. Everything within +brackets [] is what I have added. So if you don't like that +you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a +purer Shakespeare. + +Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual +differences between various copies of the first folio. So there may +be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between +this and other first folio editions. This is due to the printer's +habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and +then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then +continuing the printing run. The proof run wasn't thrown away but +incorporated into the printed copies. This is just the way it is. +The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different +First Folio editions' best pages. + +If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation +errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel +free to email me those errors. I wish to make this the best +etext possible. My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com +and davidr@inconnect.com. I hope that you enjoy this. + +David Reed + +The Tragedie of Romeo and Juliet + +Actus Primus. Scoena Prima. + +Enter Sampson and Gregory, with Swords and Bucklers, of the +House of +Capulet. + + Sampson. Gregory: A my word wee'l not carry coales + + Greg. No, for then we should be Colliars + + Samp. I mean, if we be in choller, wee'l draw + + Greg. I, While you liue, draw your necke out +o'th Collar + + Samp. I strike quickly, being mou'd + + Greg. But thou art not quickly mou'd to strike + + Samp. A dog of the house of Mountague, moues me + + Greg. To moue, is to stir: and to be valiant, is to stand: +Therefore, if thou art mou'd, thou runst away + + Samp. A dogge of that house shall moue me to stand. +I will take the wall of any Man or Maid of Mountagues + + Greg. That shewes thee a weake slaue, for the weakest +goes to the wall + + Samp. True, and therefore women being the weaker +Vessels, are euer thrust to the wall: therefore I will push +Mountagues men from the wall, and thrust his Maides to +the wall + + Greg. The Quarrell is betweene our Masters, and vs their men + + Samp. 'Tis all one, I will shew my selfe a tyrant: when +I haue fought with the men, I will bee ciuill with the +Maids, and cut off their heads + + Greg. The heads of the Maids? + Sam. I, the heads of the Maids, or their Maiden-heads, +Take it in what sence thou wilt + + Greg. They must take it sence, that feele it + + Samp. Me they shall feele while I am able to stand: +And 'tis knowne I am a pretty peece of flesh + + Greg. 'Tis well thou art not Fish: If thou had'st, thou +had'st beene poore Iohn. Draw thy Toole, here comes of +the House of the Mountagues. +Enter two other Seruingmen. + + Sam. My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I wil back thee + Gre. How? Turne thy backe, and run + + Sam. Feare me not + + Gre. No marry: I feare thee + + Sam. Let vs take the Law of our sides: let them begin + + Gr. I wil frown as I passe by, & let the[m] take it as they list + Sam. Nay, as they dare. I wil bite my Thumb at them, +which is a disgrace to them, if they beare it + + Abra. Do you bite your Thumbe at vs sir? + Samp. I do bite my Thumbe, sir + + Abra. Do you bite your Thumb at vs, sir? + Sam. Is the Law of our side, if I say I? + Gre. No + + Sam. No sir, I do not bite my Thumbe at you sir: but +I bite my Thumbe sir + + Greg. Do you quarrell sir? + Abra. Quarrell sir? no sir + + Sam. If you do sir, I am for you, I serue as good a man as you + Abra. No better? + Samp. Well sir. +Enter Benuolio. + + Gr. Say better: here comes one of my masters kinsmen + + Samp. Yes, better + + Abra. You Lye + + Samp. Draw if you be men. Gregory, remember thy +washing blow. + +They Fight. + + Ben. Part Fooles, put vp your Swords, you know not +what you do. +Enter Tibalt. + + Tyb. What art thou drawne, among these heartlesse +Hindes? Turne thee Benuolio, looke vpon thy death + + Ben. I do but keepe the peace, put vp thy Sword, +Or manage it to part these men with me + + Tyb. What draw, and talke of peace? I hate the word +As I hate hell, all Mountagues, and thee: +Haue at thee Coward. + +Fight. + +Enter three or foure Citizens with Clubs. + + Offi. Clubs, Bils, and Partisons, strike, beat them down +Downe with the Capulets, downe with the Mountagues. +Enter old Capulet in his Gowne, and his wife. + + Cap. What noise is this? Giue me my long Sword ho + + Wife. A crutch, a crutch: why call you for a Sword? + Cap. My Sword I say: Old Mountague is come, +And flourishes his Blade in spight of me. +Enter old Mountague, & his wife. + + Moun. Thou villaine Capulet. Hold me not, let me go + 2.Wife. Thou shalt not stir a foote to seeke a Foe. +Enter Prince Eskales, with his Traine. + + Prince. Rebellious Subiects, Enemies to peace, +Prophaners of this Neighbor-stained Steele, +Will they not heare? What hoe, you Men, you Beasts, +That quench the fire of your pernitious Rage, +With purple Fountaines issuing from your Veines: +On paine of Torture, from those bloody hands +Throw your mistemper'd Weapons to the ground, +And heare the Sentence of your mooued Prince. +Three ciuill Broyles, bred of an Ayery word, +By thee old Capulet and Mountague, +Haue thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, +And made Verona's ancient Citizens +Cast by their Graue beseeming Ornaments, +To wield old Partizans, in hands as old, +Cankred with peace, to part your Cankred hate, +If euer you disturbe our streets againe, +Your liues shall pay the forfeit of the peace. +For this time all the rest depart away: +You Capulet shall goe along with me, +And Mountague come you this afternoone, +To know our Fathers pleasure in this case: +To old Free-towne, our common iudgement place: +Once more on paine of death, all men depart. + +Exeunt. + + Moun. Who set this auncient quarrell new abroach? +Speake Nephew, were you by, when it began: + Ben. Heere were the seruants of your aduersarie, +And yours close fighting ere I did approach, +I drew to part them, in the instant came +The fiery Tibalt, with his sword prepar'd, +Which as he breath'd defiance to my eares, +He swong about his head, and cut the windes, +Who nothing hurt withall, hist him in scorne. +While we were enterchanging thrusts and blowes, +Came more and more, and fought on part and part, +Till the Prince came, who parted either part + + Wife. O where is Romeo, saw you him to day? +Right glad am I, he was not at this fray + + Ben. Madam, an houre before the worshipt Sun +Peer'd forth the golden window of the East, +A troubled mind draue me to walke abroad, +Where vnderneath the groue of Sycamour, +That West-ward rooteth from this City side: +So earely walking did I see your Sonne: +Towards him I made, but he was ware of me, +And stole into the couert of the wood, +I measuring his affections by my owne, +Which then most sought, wher most might not be found: +Being one too many by my weary selfe, +Pursued my Honour, not pursuing his +And gladly shunn'd, who gladly fled from me + + Mount. Many a morning hath he there beene seene, +With teares augmenting the fresh mornings deaw, +Adding to cloudes, more cloudes with his deepe sighes, +But all so soone as the all-cheering Sunne, +Should in the farthest East begin to draw +The shadie Curtaines from Auroras bed, +Away from light steales home my heauy Sonne, +And priuate in his Chamber pennes himselfe, +Shuts vp his windowes, lockes faire day-light out, +And makes himselfe an artificiall night: +Blacke and portendous must this humour proue, +Vnlesse good counsell may the cause remoue + + Ben. My Noble Vncle doe you know the cause? + Moun. I neither know it, nor can learne of him + + Ben. Haue you importun'd him by any meanes? + Moun. Both by my selfe and many other Friends, +But he his owne affections counseller, +Is to himselfe (I will not say how true) +But to himselfe so secret and so close, +So farre from sounding and discouery, +As is the bud bit with an enuious worme, +Ere he can spread his sweete leaues to the ayre, +Or dedicate his beauty to the same. +Could we but learne from whence his sorrowes grow, +We would as willingly giue cure, as know. +Enter Romeo. + + Ben. See where he comes, so please you step aside, +Ile know his greeuance, or be much denide + + Moun. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, +To heare true shrift. Come Madam let's away. + +Exeunt. + + Ben. Good morrow Cousin + + Rom. Is the day so young? + Ben. But new strooke nine + + Rom. Aye me, sad houres seeme long: +Was that my Father that went hence so fast? + Ben. It was: what sadnes lengthens Romeo's houres? + Ro. Not hauing that, which hauing, makes them short + Ben. In loue + + Romeo. Out + + Ben. Of loue + + Rom. Out of her fauour where I am in loue + + Ben. Alas that loue so gentle in his view, +Should be so tyrannous and rough in proofe + + Rom. Alas that loue, whose view is muffled still, +Should without eyes, see path-wayes to his will: +Where shall we dine? O me: what fray was heere? +Yet tell me not, for I haue heard it all: +Heere's much to do with hate, but more with loue: +Why then, O brawling loue, O louing hate, +O any thing, of nothing first created: +O heauie lightnesse, serious vanity, +Mishapen Chaos of welseeming formes, +Feather of lead, bright smoake, cold fire, sicke health, +Still waking sleepe, that is not what it is: +This loue feele I, that feele no loue in this. +Doest thou not laugh? + Ben. No Coze, I rather weepe + + Rom. Good heart, at what? + Ben. At thy good hearts oppression + + Rom. Why such is loues transgression. +Griefes of mine owne lie heauie in my breast, +Which thou wilt propagate to haue it preast +With more of thine, this loue that thou hast showne, +Doth adde more griefe, to too much of mine owne. +Loue, is a smoake made with the fume of sighes, +Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in Louers eyes, +Being vext, a Sea nourisht with louing teares, +What is it else? a madnesse, most discreet, +A choking gall, and a preseruing sweet: +Farewell my Coze + + Ben. Soft I will goe along. +And if you leaue me so, you do me wrong + + Rom. Tut I haue lost my selfe, I am not here, +This is not Romeo, hee's some other where + + Ben. Tell me in sadnesse, who is that you loue? + Rom. What shall I grone and tell thee? + Ben. Grone, why no: but sadly tell me who + + Rom. A sicke man in sadnesse makes his will: +A word ill vrg'd to one that is so ill: +In sadnesse Cozin, I do loue a woman + + Ben. I aym'd so neare, when I suppos'd you lou'd + + Rom. A right good marke man, and shee's faire I loue + Ben. A right faire marke, faire Coze, is soonest hit + + Rom. Well in that hit you misse, sheel not be hit +With Cupids arrow, she hath Dians wit: +And in strong proofe of chastity well arm'd: +From loues weake childish Bow, she liues vncharm'd. +Shee will not stay the siege of louing tearmes, +Nor bid th' encounter of assailing eyes. +Nor open her lap to Sainct-seducing Gold: +O she is rich in beautie, onely poore, +That when she dies, with beautie dies her store + + Ben. Then she hath sworne, that she will still liue chast? + Rom. She hath, and in that sparing make huge wast? +For beauty steru'd with her seuerity, +Cuts beauty off from all posteritie. +She is too faire, too wise: wisely too faire, +To merit blisse by making me dispaire: +She hath forsworne to loue, and in that vow +Do I liue dead, that liue to tell it now + + Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to thinke of her + + Rom. O teach me how I should forget to thinke + + Ben. By giuing liberty vnto thine eyes, +Examine other beauties, + Ro. 'Tis the way to cal hers (exquisit) in question more, +These happy maskes that kisse faire Ladies browes, +Being blacke, puts vs in mind they hide the faire: +He that is strooken blind, cannot forget +The precious treasure of his eye-sight lost: +Shew me a Mistresse that is passing faire, +What doth her beauty serue but as a note, +Where I may read who past that passing faire. +Farewell thou can'st not teach me to forget, + Ben. Ile pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. + +Exeunt. + +Enter Capulet, Countie Paris, and the Clowne. + + Capu. Mountague is bound as well as I, +In penalty alike, and 'tis not hard I thinke, +For men so old as wee, to keepe the peace + + Par. Of Honourable reckoning are you both, +And pittie 'tis you liu'd at ods so long: +But now my Lord, what say you to my sute? + Capu. But saying ore what I haue said before, +My Child is yet a stranger in the world, +Shee hath not seene the change of fourteene yeares, +Let two more Summers wither in their pride, +Ere we may thinke her ripe to be a Bride + + Pari. Younger then she, are happy mothers made + + Capu. And too soone mar'd are those so early made: +Earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she, +Shee's the hopefull Lady of my earth: +But wooe her gentle Paris, get her heart, +My will to her consent, is but a part, +And shee agree, within her scope of choise, +Lyes my consent, and faire according voice: +This night I hold an old accustom'd Feast, +Whereto I haue inuited many a Guest, +Such as I loue, and you among the store, +One more, most welcome makes my number more: +At my poore house, looke to behold this night, +Earth-treading starres, that make darke heauen light, +Such comfort as do lusty young men feele, +When well apparrel'd Aprill on the heele +Of limping Winter treads, euen such delight +Among fresh Fennell buds shall you this night +Inherit at my house: heare all, all see: +And like her most, whose merit most shall be: +Which one more veiw, of many, mine being one, +May stand in number, though in reckning none. +Come, goe with me: goe sirrah trudge about, +Through faire Verona, find those persons out, +Whose names are written there, and to them say, +My house and welcome, on their pleasure stay. +Enter. + + Ser. Find them out whose names are written. Heere it +is written, that the Shoo-maker should meddle with his +Yard, and the Tayler with his Last, the Fisher with his +Pensill, and the Painter with his Nets. But I am sent to +find those persons whose names are writ, & can neuer find +what names the writing person hath here writ (I must to +the learned) in good time. +Enter Benuolio, and Romeo. + + Ben. Tut man, one fire burnes out anothers burning, +One paine is lesned by anothers anguish: +Turne giddie, and be holpe by backward turning: +One desparate greefe, cures with anothers languish: +Take thou some new infection to the eye, +And the rank poyson of the old wil die + + Rom. Your Plantan leafe is excellent for that + + Ben. For what I pray thee? + Rom. For your broken shin + + Ben. Why Romeo art thou mad? + Rom. Not mad, but bound more then a mad man is: +Shut vp in prison, kept without my foode, +Whipt and tormented: and Godden good fellow, + Ser. Godgigoden, I pray sir can you read? + Rom. I mine owne fortune in my miserie + + Ser. Perhaps you haue learn'd it without booke: +But I pray can you read any thing you see? + Rom. I, if I know the Letters and the Language + + Ser. Ye say honestly, rest you merry + + Rom. Stay fellow, I can read. + +He reades the Letter. + +Seigneur Martino, and his wife and daughter: County Anselme +and his beautious sisters: the Lady widdow of Vtruuio, +Seigneur Placentio, and his louely Neeces: Mercutio and +his brother Valentine: mine vncle Capulet his wife and daughters: +my faire Neece Rosaline, Liuia, Seigneur Valentio, & his +Cosen Tybalt: Lucio and the liuely Helena. +A faire assembly, whither should they come? + Ser. Vp + + Rom. Whither? to supper? + Ser. To our house + + Rom. Whose house? + Ser. My Maisters + + Rom. Indeed I should haue askt you that before + + Ser. Now Ile tell you without asking. My maister is +the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of +Mountagues I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest +you merry. +Enter. + + Ben. At this same auncient Feast of Capulets +Sups the faire Rosaline, whom thou so loues: +With all the admired Beauties of Verona, +Go thither and with vnattainted eye, +Compare her face with some that I shall show, +And I will make thee thinke thy Swan a Crow + + Rom. When the deuout religion of mine eye +Maintaines such falshood, then turne teares to fire: +And these who often drown'd could neuer die, +Transparent Heretiques be burnt for liers. +One fairer then my loue: the all-seeing Sun +Nere saw her match, since first the world begun + + Ben. Tut, you saw her faire, none else being by, +Herselfe poys'd with herselfe in either eye: +But in that Christall scales, let there be waid, +Your Ladies loue against some other Maid +That I will show you, shining at this Feast, +And she shew scant shell, well, that now shewes best + + Rom. Ile goe along, no such sight to be showne, +But to reioyce in splendor of mine owne. +Enter Capulets Wife and Nurse. + + Wife. Nurse wher's my daughter? call her forth to me + + Nurse. Now by my Maidenhead, at twelue yeare old +I bad her come, what Lamb: what Ladi-bird, God forbid, +Where's this Girle? what Iuliet? +Enter Iuliet + + Iuliet. How now, who calls? + Nur. Your Mother + + Iuliet. Madam I am heere, what is your will? + Wife. This is the matter: Nurse giue me leaue awhile, we +must talke in secret. Nurse come backe againe, I haue remembred +me, thou'se heare our counsell. Thou knowest +my daughter's of a prety age + + Nurse. Faith I can tell her age vnto an houre + + Wife. Shee's not fourteene + + Nurse. Ile lay fourteene of my teeth, +And yet to my teene be it spoken, +I haue but foure, shee's not fourteene. +How long is it now to Lammas tide? + Wife. A fortnight and odde dayes + + Nurse. Euen or odde, of all daies in the yeare come +Lammas Eue at night shall she be fourteene. Susan & she, +God rest all Christian soules, were of an age. Well Susan +is with God, she was too good for me. But as I said, on Lamas +Eue at night shall she be fourteene, that shall she marie, +I remember it well. 'Tis since the Earth-quake now +eleuen yeares, and she was wean'd I neuer shall forget it, +of all the daies of the yeare, vpon that day: for I had then +laid Worme-wood to my Dug sitting in the Sunne vnder +the Douehouse wall, my Lord and you were then at +Mantua, nay I doe beare a braine. But as I said, when it +did tast the Worme-wood on the nipple of my Dugge, +and felt it bitter, pretty foole, to see it teachie, and fall out +with the Dugge, Shake quoth the Doue-house, 'twas no +neede I trow to bid mee trudge, and since that time it is +a eleuen yeares, for then she could stand alone, nay bi'th' +roode she could haue runne, & wadled all about: for euen +the day before she broke her brow, & then my Husband +God be with his soule, a was a merrie man, tooke vp the +Child, yea quoth hee, doest thou fall vpon thy face? thou +wilt fall backeward when thou hast more wit, wilt thou +not Iule? And by my holy-dam, the pretty wretch lefte +crying, & said I: to see now how a Iest shall come about. +I warrant, & I shall liue a thousand yeares, I neuer should +forget it: wilt thou not Iule quoth he? and pretty foole it +stinted, and said I + + Old La. Inough of this, I pray thee hold thy peace + + Nurse. Yes Madam, yet I cannot chuse but laugh, to +thinke it should leaue crying, & say I: and yet I warrant +it had vpon it brow, a bumpe as big as a young Cockrels +stone? A perilous knock, and it cryed bitterly. Yea quoth +my husband, fall'st vpon thy face, thou wilt fall backward +when thou commest to age: wilt thou not Iule? It +stinted: and said I + + Iule. And stint thou too, I pray thee Nurse, say I + + Nur. Peace I haue done: God marke thee too his grace +thou wast the prettiest Babe that ere I nurst, and I might +liue to see thee married once, I haue my wish + + Old La. Marry that marry is the very theame +I came to talke of, tell me daughter Iuliet, +How stands your disposition to be Married? + Iuli. It is an houre that I dreame not of + + Nur. An houre, were I not thine onely Nurse, I would +say thou had'st suckt wisedome from thy teat + + Old La. Well thinke of marriage now, yonger then you +Heere in Verona, Ladies of esteeme, +Are made already Mothers. By my count +I was your Mother, much vpon these yeares +That you are now a Maide, thus then in briefe: +The valiant Paris seekes you for his loue + + Nurse. A man young Lady, Lady, such a man as all +the world. Why hee's a man of waxe + + Old La. Veronas Summer hath not such a flower + + Nurse. Nay hee's a flower, infaith a very flower + + Old La. What say you, can you loue the Gentleman? +This night you shall behold him at our Feast, +Read ore the volume of young Paris face, +And find delight, writ there with Beauties pen: +Examine euery seuerall liniament, +And see how one another lends content: +And what obscur'd in this faire volume lies, +Find written in the Margent of his eyes. +This precious Booke of Loue, this vnbound Louer, +To Beautifie him, onely lacks a Couer. +The fish liues in the Sea, and 'tis much pride +For faire without, the faire within to hide: +That Booke in manies eyes doth share the glorie, +That in Gold claspes, Lockes in the Golden storie: +So shall you share all that he doth possesse, +By hauing him, making your selfe no lesse + + Nurse. No lesse, nay bigger: women grow by men + + Old La. Speake briefly, can you like of Paris loue? + Iuli. Ile looke to like, if looking liking moue. +But no more deepe will I endart mine eye, +Then your consent giues strength to make flye. +Enter a Seruing man. + + Ser. Madam, the guests are come, supper seru'd vp, you +cal'd, my young Lady askt for, the Nurse cur'st in the Pantery, +and euery thing in extremitie: I must hence to wait, I +beseech you follow straight. +Enter. + + Mo. We follow thee, Iuliet, the Countie staies + + Nurse. Goe Gyrle, seeke happie nights to happy daies. + +Exeunt. + +Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benuolio, with fiue or sixe other Maskers, +Torch-bearers. + + Rom. What shall this spech be spoke for our excuse? +Or shall we on without Apologie? + Ben. The date is out of such prolixitie, +Weele haue no Cupid, hood winkt with a skarfe, +Bearing a Tartars painted Bow of lath, +Skaring the Ladies like a Crow-keeper. +But let them measure vs by what they will, +Weele measure them with a Measure, and be gone + + Rom. Giue me a Torch, I am not for this ambling. +Being but heauy I will beare the light + + Mer. Nay gentle Romeo, we must haue you dance + + Rom. Not I beleeue me, you haue dancing shooes +With nimble soles, I haue a soale of Lead +So stakes me to the ground, I cannot moue + + Mer. You are a Louer, borrow Cupids wings, +And soare with them aboue a common bound + + Rom. I am too sore enpearced with his shaft, +To soare with his light feathers, and to bound: +I cannot bound a pitch aboue dull woe, +Vnder loues heauy burthen doe I sinke + + Hora. And to sinke in it should you burthen loue, +Too great oppression for a tender thing + + Rom. Is loue a tender thing? it is too rough, +Too rude, too boysterous, and it pricks like thorne + + Mer. If loue be rough with you, be rough with loue, +Pricke loue for pricking, and you beat loue downe, +Giue me a Case to put my visage in, +A Visor for a Visor, what care I +What curious eye doth quote deformities: +Here are the Beetle-browes shall blush for me + + Ben. Come knocke and enter, and no sooner in, +But euery man betake him to his legs + + Rom. A Torch for me, let wantons light of heart +Tickle the sencelesse rushes with their heeles: +For I am prouerb'd with a Grandsier Phrase, +Ile be a Candle-holder and looke on, +The game was nere so faire, and I am done + + Mer. Tut, duns the Mouse, the Constables owne word, +If thou art dun, weele draw thee from the mire. +Or saue your reuerence loue, wherein thou stickest +Vp to the eares, come we burne day-light ho + + Rom. Nay that's not so + + Mer. I meane sir I delay, +We wast our lights in vaine, lights, lights, by day; +Take our good meaning, for our Iudgement sits +Fiue times in that, ere once in our fiue wits + + Rom. And we meane well in going to this Maske, +But 'tis no wit to go + + Mer. Why may one aske? + Rom. I dreampt a dreame to night + + Mer. And so did I + + Rom. Well what was yours? + Mer. That dreamers often lye + + Ro. In bed a sleepe while they do dreame things true + + Mer. O then I see Queene Mab hath beene with you: +She is the Fairies Midwife, & she comes in shape no bigger +then Agat-stone, on the fore-finger of an Alderman, +drawne with a teeme of little Atomies, ouer mens noses as +they lie asleepe: her Waggon Spokes made of long Spinners +legs: the Couer of the wings of Grashoppers, her +Traces of the smallest Spiders web, her coullers of the +Moonshines watry Beames, her Whip of Crickets bone, +the Lash of Philome, her Waggoner, a small gray-coated +Gnat, not halfe so bigge as a round little Worme, prickt +from the Lazie-finger of a man. Her Chariot is an emptie +Haselnut, made by the Ioyner Squirrel or old Grub, time +out a mind, the Faries Coach-makers: & in this state she +gallops night by night, through Louers braines: and then +they dreame of Loue. On Courtiers knees, that dreame on +Cursies strait: ore Lawyers fingers, who strait dreampt on +Fees, ore Ladies lips, who strait on kisses dreame, which +oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, because their +breath with Sweet meats tainted are. Sometime she gallops +ore a Courtiers nose, & then dreames he of smelling +out a sute: & somtime comes she with Tith pigs tale, tickling +a Parsons nose as a lies asleepe, then he dreames of +another Benefice. Sometime she driueth ore a Souldiers +necke, & then dreames he of cutting Forraine throats, of +Breaches, Ambuscados, Spanish Blades: Of Healths fiue +Fadome deepe, and then anon drums in his eares, at which +he startes and wakes; and being thus frighted, sweares a +prayer or two & sleepes againe: this is that very Mab that +plats the manes of Horses in the night: & bakes the Elklocks +in foule sluttish haires, which once vntangled, much +misfortune bodes, +This is the hag, when Maides lie on their backs, +That presses them, and learnes them first to beare, +Making them women of good carriage: +This is she + + Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio peace, +Thou talk'st of nothing + + Mer. True, I talke of dreames: +Which are the children of an idle braine, +Begot of nothing, but vaine phantasie, +Which is as thin of substance as the ayre, +And more inconstant then the wind, who wooes +Euen now the frozen bosome of the North: +And being anger'd, puffes away from thence, +Turning his side to the dew dropping South + + Ben. This wind you talke of blowes vs from our selues, +Supper is done, and we shall come too late + + Rom. I feare too early, for my mind misgiues, +Some consequence yet hanging in the starres, +Shall bitterly begin his fearefull date +With this nights reuels, and expire the tearme +Of a despised life clos'd in my brest: +By some vile forfeit of vntimely death. +But he that hath the stirrage of my course, +Direct my sute: on lustie Gentlemen + + Ben. Strike Drum. + +They march about the Stage, and Seruingmen come forth with +their napkins. + +Enter Seruant. + + Ser. Where's Potpan, that he helpes not to take away? +He shift a Trencher? he scrape a Trencher? + 1. When good manners, shall lie in one or two mens +hands, and they vnwasht too, 'tis a foule thing + + Ser. Away with the Ioynstooles, remoue the Courtcubbord, +looke to the Plate: good thou, saue mee a piece +of Marchpane, and as thou louest me, let the Porter let in +Susan Grindstone, and Nell, Anthonie and Potpan + + 2. I Boy readie + + Ser. You are lookt for, and cal'd for, askt for, & sought +for, in the great Chamber + + 1. We cannot be here and there too, chearly Boyes, +Be brisk awhile, and the longer liuer take all. + +Exeunt. + +Enter all the Guests and Gentlewomen to the Maskers. + + 1. Capu. Welcome Gentlemen, +Ladies that haue their toes +Vnplagu'd with Cornes, will walke about with you: +Ah my Mistresses, which of you all +Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, +She Ile sweare hath Cornes: am I come neare ye now? +Welcome Gentlemen, I haue seene the day +That I haue worne a Visor, and could tell +A whispering tale in a faire Ladies eare: +Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone, +You are welcome Gentlemen, come Musitians play: + +Musicke plaies: and they dance. + +A Hall, Hall, giue roome, and foote it Girles, +More light you knaues, and turne the Tables vp: +And quench the fire, the Roome is growne too hot. +Ah sirrah, this vnlookt for sport comes well: +Nay sit, nay sit, good Cozin Capulet, +For you and I are past our dauncing daies: +How long 'ist now since last your selfe and I +Were in a Maske? + 2. Capu. Berlady thirty yeares + + 1. Capu. What man: 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much, +'Tis since the Nuptiall of Lucentio, +Come Pentycost as quickely as it will, +Some fiue and twenty yeares, and then we Maskt + + 2. Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more, his Sonne is elder sir: +His Sonne is thirty + + 3. Cap. Will you tell me that? +His Sonne was but a Ward two yeares agoe + + Rom. What Ladie is that which doth inrich the hand +Of yonder Knight? + Ser. I know not sir + + Rom. O she doth teach the Torches to burne bright: +It seemes she hangs vpon the cheeke of night, +As a rich Iewel in an aethiops eare: +Beauty too rich for vse, for earth too deare: +So shewes a Snowy Doue trooping with Crowes, +As yonder Lady ore her fellowes showes; +The measure done, Ile watch her place of stand, +And touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. +Did my heart loue till now, forsweare it sight, +For I neuer saw true Beauty till this night + + Tib. This by his voice, should be a Mountague. +Fetch me my Rapier Boy, what dares the slaue +Come hither couer'd with an antique face, +To fleere and scorne at our Solemnitie? +Now by the stocke and Honour of my kin, +To strike him dead I hold it not a sin + + Cap. Why how now kinsman, +Wherefore storme you so? + Tib. Vncle this is a Mountague, our foe: +A Villaine that is hither come in spight, +To scorne at our Solemnitie this night + + Cap. Young Romeo is it? + Tib. 'Tis he, that Villaine Romeo + + Cap. Content thee gentle Coz, let him alone, +A beares him like a portly Gentleman: +And to say truth, Verona brags of him, +To be a vertuous and well gouern'd youth: +I would not for the wealth of all the towne, +Here in my house do him disparagement: +Therfore be patient, take no note of him, +It is my will, the which if thou respect, +Shew a faire presence, and put off these frownes, +An ill beseeming semblance for a Feast + Tib. It fits when such a Villaine is a guest, +Ile not endure him + + Cap. He shall be endur'd. +What goodman boy, I say he shall, go too, +Am I the Maister here or you? go too, +Youle not endure him, God shall mend my soule, +Youle make a Mutinie among the Guests: +You will set cocke a hoope, youle be the man + + Tib. Why Vncle, 'tis a shame + + Cap. Go too, go too, +You are a sawcy Boy, 'ist so indeed? +This tricke may chance to scath you, I know what, +You must contrary me, marry 'tis time. +Well said my hearts, you are a Princox, goe, +Be quiet, or more light, more light for shame, +Ile make you quiet. What, chearely my hearts + + Tib. Patience perforce, with wilfull choler meeting, +Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting: +I will withdraw, but this intrusion shall +Now seeming sweet, conuert to bitter gall. +Enter. + + Rom. If I prophane with my vnworthiest hand, +This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this, +My lips to blushing Pilgrims did ready stand, +To smooth that rough touch, with a tender kisse + + Iul. Good Pilgrime, +You do wrong your hand too much. +Which mannerly deuotion shewes in this, +For Saints haue hands, that Pilgrims hands do tuch, +And palme to palme, is holy Palmers kisse + + Rom. Haue not Saints lips, and holy Palmers too? + Iul. I Pilgrim, lips that they must vse in prayer + + Rom. O then deare Saint, let lips do what hands do, +They pray (grant thou) least faith turne to dispaire + + Iul. Saints do not moue, +Though grant for prayers sake + + Rom. Then moue not while my prayers effect I take: +Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd + + Iul. Then haue my lips the sin that they haue tooke + + Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespasse sweetly vrg'd: +Giue me my sin againe + + Iul. You kisse by'th' booke + + Nur. Madam your Mother craues a word with you + + Rom. What is her Mother? + Nurs. Marrie Batcheler, +Her Mother is the Lady of the house, +And a good Lady, and a wise, and Vertuous, +I Nur'st her Daughter that you talkt withall: +I tell you, he that can lay hold of her, +Shall haue the chincks + + Rom. Is she a Capulet? +O deare account! My life is my foes debt + + Ben. Away, be gone, the sport is at the best + + Rom. I so I feare, the more is my vnrest + + Cap. Nay Gentlemen prepare not to be gone, +We haue a trifling foolish Banquet towards: +Is it e'ne so? why then I thanke you all. +I thanke you honest Gentlemen, good night: +More Torches here: come on, then let's to bed. +Ah sirrah, by my faie it waxes late, +Ile to my rest + + Iuli. Come hither Nurse, +What is yond Gentleman: + Nur. The Sonne and Heire of old Tyberio + + Iuli. What's he that now is going out of doore? + Nur. Marrie that I thinke be young Petruchio + + Iul. What's he that follows here that would not dance? + Nur. I know not + + Iul. Go aske his name: if he be married, +My graue is like to be my wedded bed + + Nur. His name is Romeo, and a Mountague, +The onely Sonne of your great Enemie + + Iul. My onely Loue sprung from my onely hate, +Too early seene, vnknowne, and knowne too late, +Prodigious birth of Loue it is to me, +That I must loue a loathed Enemie + + Nur. What's this? whats this? + Iul. A rime, I learne euen now +Of one I dan'st withall. + +One cals within, Iuliet. + + Nur. Anon, anon: +Come let's away, the strangers all are gone. + +Exeunt. + + Chorus. Now old desire doth in his death bed lie, +And yong affection gapes to be his Heire, +That faire, for which Loue gron'd for and would die, +With tender Iuliet matcht, is now not faire. +Now Romeo is beloued, and Loues againe, +A like bewitched by the charme of lookes: +But to his foe suppos'd he must complaine, +And she steale Loues sweet bait from fearefull hookes: +Being held a foe, he may not haue accesse +To breath such vowes as Louers vse to sweare, +And she as much in Loue, her meanes much lesse, +To meete her new Beloued any where: +But passion lends them Power, time, meanes to meete, +Temp'ring extremities with extreame sweete. +Enter Romeo alone. + + Rom. Can I goe forward when my heart is here? +Turne backe dull earth, and find thy Center out. +Enter Benuolio, with Mercutio. + + Ben. Romeo, my Cozen Romeo, Romeo + + Merc. He is wise, +And on my life hath stolne him home to bed + + Ben. He ran this way and leapt this Orchard wall. +Call good Mercutio: +Nay, Ile coniure too + + Mer. Romeo, Humours, Madman, Passion, Louer, +Appeare thou in the likenesse of a sigh, +Speake but one time, and I am satisfied: +Cry me but ay me, Prouant, but Loue and day, +Speake to my goship Venus one faire word, +One Nickname for her purblind Sonne and her, +Young Abraham Cupid he that shot so true, +When King Cophetua lou'd the begger Maid, +He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moueth not, +The Ape is dead, I must coniure him, +I coniure thee by Rosalines bright eyes, +By her High forehead, and her Scarlet lip, +By her Fine foote, Straight leg, and Quiuering thigh, +And the Demeanes, that there Adiacent lie, +That in thy likenesse thou appeare to vs + + Ben. And if he heare thee thou wilt anger him + + Mer. This cannot anger him, t'would anger him +To raise a spirit in his Mistresse circle, +Of some strange nature, letting it stand +Till she had laid it, and coniured it downe, +That were some spight. +My inuocation is faire and honest, & in his Mistris name, +I coniure onely but to raise vp him + + Ben. Come, he hath hid himselfe among these Trees +To be consorted with the Humerous night: +Blind is his Loue, and best befits the darke + + Mer. If Loue be blind, Loue cannot hit the marke, +Now will he sit vnder a Medler tree, +And wish his Mistresse were that kind of Fruite, +As Maides cal Medlers when they laugh alone, +O Romeo that she were, O that she were +An open, or thou a Poprin Peare, +Romeo goodnight, Ile to my Truckle bed, +This Field-bed is to cold for me to sleepe, +Come shall we go? + Ben. Go then, for 'tis in vaine to seeke him here +That meanes not to be found. + +Exeunt. + + Rom. He ieasts at Scarres that neuer felt a wound, +But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? +It is the East, and Iuliet is the Sunne, +Arise faire Sun and kill the enuious Moone, +Who is already sicke and pale with griefe, +That thou her Maid art far more faire then she: +Be not her Maid since she is enuious, +Her Vestal liuery is but sicke and greene, +And none but fooles do weare it, cast it off: +It is my Lady, O it is my Loue, O that she knew she were, +She speakes, yet she sayes nothing, what of that? +Her eye discourses, I will answere it: +I am too bold 'tis not to me she speakes: +Two of the fairest starres in all the Heauen, +Hauing some businesse do entreat her eyes, +To twinckle in their Spheres till they returne. +What if her eyes were there, they in her head, +The brightnesse of her cheeke would shame those starres, +As day-light doth a Lampe, her eye in heauen, +Would through the ayrie Region streame so bright, +That Birds would sing, and thinke it were not night: +See how she leanes her cheeke vpon her hand. +O that I were a Gloue vpon that hand, +That I might touch that cheeke + + Iul. Ay me + + Rom. She speakes. +Oh speake againe bright Angell, for thou art +As glorious to this night being ore my head, +As is a winged messenger of heauen +Vnto the white vpturned wondring eyes +Of mortalls that fall backe to gaze on him, +When he bestrides the lazie puffing Cloudes, +And sailes vpon the bosome of the ayre + + Iul. O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? +Denie thy Father and refuse thy name: +Or if thou wilt not, be but sworne to my Loue, +And Ile no longer be a Capulet + + Rom. Shall I heare more, or shall I speake at this? + Iu. 'Tis but thy name that is my Enemy: +Thou art thy selfe, though not a Mountague, +What's Mountague? it is nor hand nor foote, +Nor arme, nor face, O be some other name +Belonging to a man. +What? in a names that which we call a Rose, +By any other word would smell as sweete, +So Romeo would, were he not Romeo cal'd, +Retaine that deare perfection which he owes, +Without that title Romeo, doffe thy name, +And for thy name which is no part of thee, +Take all my selfe + + Rom. I take thee at thy word: +Call me but Loue, and Ile be new baptiz'd, +Hence foorth I neuer will be Romeo + + Iuli. What man art thou, that thus bescreen'd in night +So stumblest on my counsell? + Rom. By a name, +I know not how to tell thee who I am: +My name deare Saint, is hatefull to my selfe, +Because it is an Enemy to thee, +Had I it written, I would teare the word + + Iuli. My eares haue yet not drunke a hundred words +Of thy tongues vttering, yet I know the sound. +Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? + Rom. Neither faire Maid, if either thee dislike + + Iul. How cam'st thou hither. +Tell me, and wherefore? +The Orchard walls are high, and hard to climbe, +And the place death, considering who thou art, +If any of my kinsmen find thee here, + Rom. With Loues light wings +Did I ore-perch these Walls, +For stony limits cannot hold Loue out, +And what Loue can do, that dares Loue attempt: +Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me + + Iul. If they do see thee, they will murther thee + + Rom. Alacke there lies more perill in thine eye, +Then twenty of their Swords, looke thou but sweete, +And I am proofe against their enmity + + Iul. I would not for the world they saw thee here + + Rom. I haue nights cloake to hide me from their eyes +And but thou loue me, let them finde me here, +My life were better ended by their hate, +Then death proroged wanting of thy Loue + + Iul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place? + Rom. By Loue that first did prompt me to enquire, +He lent me counsell, and I lent him eyes, +I am no Pylot, yet wert thou as far +As that vast-shore-washet with the farthest Sea, +I should aduenture for such Marchandise + + Iul. Thou knowest the maske of night is on my face, +Else would a Maiden blush bepaint my cheeke, +For that which thou hast heard me speake to night, +Faine would I dwell on forme, faine, faine, denie +What I haue spoke, but farewell Complement, +Doest thou Loue? I know thou wilt say I, +And I will take thy word, yet if thou swear'st, +Thou maiest proue false: at Louers periuries +They say Ioue laught, oh gentle Romeo, +If thou dost Loue, pronounce it faithfully: +Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly wonne, +Ile frowne and be peruerse, and say thee nay, +So thou wilt wooe: But else not for the world. +In truth faire Mountague I am too fond: +And therefore thou maiest thinke my behauiour light, +But trust me Gentleman, Ile proue more true, +Then those that haue coying to be strange, +I should haue beene more strange, I must confesse, +But that thou ouer heard'st ere I was ware +My true Loues passion, therefore pardon me, +And not impute this yeelding to light Loue, +Which the darke night hath so discouered + + Rom. Lady, by yonder Moone I vow, +That tips with siluer all these Fruite tree tops + + Iul. O sweare not by the Moone, th' inconstant Moone, +That monethly changes in her circled Orbe, +Least that thy Loue proue likewise variable + + Rom. What shall I sweare by? + Iul. Do not sweare at all: +Or if thou wilt sweare by thy gratious selfe, +Which is the God of my Idolatry, +And Ile beleeue thee + + Rom. If my hearts deare loue + + Iuli. Well do not sweare, although I ioy in thee: +I haue no ioy of this contract to night, +It is too rash, too vnaduis'd, too sudden, +Too like the lightning which doth cease to be +Ere, one can say, it lightens, Sweete good night: +This bud of Loue by Summers ripening breath, +May proue a beautious Flower when next we meete: +Goodnight, goodnight, as sweete repose and rest, +Come to thy heart, as that within my brest + + Rom. O wilt thou leaue me so vnsatisfied? + Iuli. What satisfaction can'st thou haue to night? + Ro. Th' exchange of thy Loues faithfull vow for mine + + Iul. I gaue thee mine before thou did'st request it: +And yet I would it were to giue againe + + Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it, +For what purpose Loue? + Iul. But to be franke and giue it thee againe, +And yet I wish but for the thing I haue, +My bounty is as boundlesse as the Sea, +My Loue as deepe, the more I giue to thee +The more I haue, for both are Infinite: +I heare some noyse within deare Loue adue: + +Cals within. + +Anon good Nurse, sweet Mountague be true: +Stay but a little, I will come againe + + Rom. O blessed blessed night, I am afear'd +Being in night, all this is but a dreame, +Too flattering sweet to be substantiall + + Iul. Three words deare Romeo, +And goodnight indeed, +If that thy bent of Loue be Honourable, +Thy purpose marriage, send me word to morrow, +By one that Ile procure to come to thee, +Where and what time thou wilt performe the right, +And all my Fortunes at thy foote Ile lay, +And follow thee my Lord throughout the world + + Within: Madam. +I come, anon: but if thou meanest not well, +I do beseech thee + Within: Madam. +(By and by I come) +To cease thy strife, and leaue me to my griefe, +To morrow will I send + + Rom. So thriue my soule + + Iu. A thousand times goodnight. +Enter. + + Rome. A thousand times the worse to want thy light, +Loue goes toward Loue as school-boyes fro[m] their books +But Loue fro[m] Loue, towards schoole with heauie lookes. +Enter Iuliet againe. + + Iul. Hist Romeo hist: O for a Falkners voice, +To lure this Tassell gentle backe againe, +Bondage is hoarse, and may not speake aloud, +Else would I teare the Caue where Eccho lies, +And make her ayrie tongue more hoarse, then +With repetition of my Romeo + + Rom. It is my soule that calls vpon my name. +How siluer sweet, sound Louers tongues by night, +Like softest Musicke to attending eares + + Iul. Romeo + + Rom. My Neece + + Iul. What a clock to morrow +Shall I send to thee? + Rom. By the houre of nine + + Iul. I will not faile, 'tis twenty yeares till then, +I haue forgot why I did call thee backe + + Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it + + Iul. I shall forget, to haue thee still stand there, +Remembring how I Loue thy company + + Rom. And Ile still stay, to haue thee still forget, +Forgetting any other home but this + + Iul. 'Tis almost morning, I would haue thee gone, +And yet no further then a wantons Bird, +That let's it hop a little from his hand, +Like a poore prisoner in his twisted Gyues, +And with a silken thred plucks it backe againe, +So louing Iealous of his liberty + + Rom. I would I were thy Bird + + Iul. Sweet so would I, +Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing: +Good night, good night + + Rom. Parting is such sweete sorrow, +That I shall say goodnight, till it be morrow + + Iul. Sleepe dwell vpon thine eyes, peace in thy brest + + Rom. Would I were sleepe and peace so sweet to rest, +The gray ey'd morne smiles on the frowning night, +Checkring the Easterne Clouds with streakes of light, +And darkenesse fleckel'd like a drunkard reeles, +From forth dayes pathway, made by Titans wheeles. +Hence will I to my ghostly Friers close Cell, +His helpe to craue, and my deare hap to tell. +Enter. + +Enter Frier alone with a basket. + + Fri. The gray ey'd morne smiles on the frowning night, +Checkring the Easterne Cloudes with streaks of light: +And fleckled darknesse like a drunkard reeles, +From forth daies path, and Titans burning wheeles: +Now ere the Sun aduance his burning eye, +The day to cheere, and nights danke dew to dry, +I must vpfill this Osier Cage of ours, +With balefull weedes, and precious Iuiced flowers, +The earth that's Natures mother, is her Tombe, +What is her burying graue that is her wombe: +And from her wombe children of diuers kind +We sucking on her naturall bosome find: +Many for many vertues excellent: +None but for some, and yet all different. +O mickle is the powerfull grace that lies +In Plants, Hearbs, stones, and their true qualities: +For nought so vile, that on earth doth liue, +But to the earth some speciall good doth giue. +Nor ought so good, but strain'd from that faire vse, +Reuolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. +Vertue it selfe turnes vice being misapplied, +And vice sometime by action dignified. +Enter Romeo. + +Within the infant rind of this weake flower, +Poyson hath residence, and medicine power: +For this being smelt, with that part cheares each part, +Being tasted stayes all sences with the heart. +Two such opposed Kings encampe them still, +In man as well as Hearbes, grace and rude will: +And where the worser is predominant, +Full soone the Canker death eates vp that Plant + + Rom. Good morrow Father + + Fri. Benedecite. +What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? +Young Sonne, it argues a distempered head, +So soone to bid goodmorrow to thy bed; +Care keepes his watch in euery old mans eye, +And where Care lodges, sleepe will neuer lye: +But where vnbrused youth with vnstuft braine +Doth couch his lims, there, golden sleepe doth raigne; +Therefore thy earlinesse doth me assure, +Thou art vprous'd with some distemprature; +Or if not so, then here I hit it right. +Our Romeo hath not beene in bed to night + + Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine + + Fri. God pardon sin: wast thou with Rosaline? + Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly Father? No, +I haue forgot that name, and that names woe + + Fri. That's my good Son, but wher hast thou bin then? + Rom. Ile tell thee ere thou aske it me agen: +I haue beene feasting with mine enemie, +Where on a sudden one hath wounded me, +That's by me wounded: both our remedies +Within thy helpe and holy phisicke lies: +I beare no hatred, blessed man: for loe +My intercession likewise steads my foe + + Fri. Be plaine good Son, rest homely in thy drift, +Ridling confession, findes but ridling shrift + + Rom. Then plainly know my hearts deare Loue is set, +On the faire daughter of rich Capulet: +As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine; +And all combin'd, saue what thou must combine +By holy marriage: when and where, and how, +We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow: +Ile tell thee as we passe, but this I pray, +That thou consent to marrie vs to day + + Fri. Holy S[aint]. Francis, what a change is heere? +Is Rosaline that thou didst Loue so deare +So soone forsaken? young mens Loue then lies +Not truely in their hearts, but in their eyes. +Iesu Maria, what a deale of brine +Hath washt thy sallow cheekes for Rosaline? +How much salt water throwne away in wast, +To season Loue that of it doth not tast. +The Sun not yet thy sighes, from heauen cleares, +Thy old grones yet ringing in my auncient eares: +Lo here vpon thy cheeke the staine doth sit, +Of an old teare that is not washt off yet. +If ere thou wast thy selfe, and these woes thine, +Thou and these woes, were all for Rosaline. +And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence then, +Women may fall, when there's no strength in men + + Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for louing Rosaline + + Fri. For doting, not for louing pupill mine + + Rom. And bad'st me bury Loue + + Fri. Not in a graue, +To lay one in, another out to haue + + Rom. I pray thee chide me not, her I Loue now +Doth grace for grace, and Loue for Loue allow: +The other did not so + + Fri. O she knew well, +Thy Loue did read by rote, that could not spell: +But come young wauerer, come goe with me, +In one respect, Ile thy assistant be: +For this alliance may so happy proue, +To turne your houshould rancor to pure Loue + + Rom. O let vs hence, I stand on sudden hast + + Fri. Wisely and slow, they stumble that run fast. + +Exeunt. + +Enter Benuolio and Mercutio. + + Mer. Where the deule should this Romeo be? came he +not home to night? + Ben. Not to his Fathers, I spoke with his man + + Mer. Why that same pale hard-harted wench, that Rosaline +torments him so, that he will sure run mad + + Ben. Tibalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, hath sent a Letter +to his Fathers house + + Mer. A challenge on my life + + Ben. Romeo will answere it + + Mer. Any man that can write, may answere a Letter + + Ben. Nay, he will answere the Letters Maister how he +dares, being dared + + Mer. Alas poore Romeo, he is already dead stab'd with +a white wenches blacke eye, runne through the eare with +a Loue song, the very pinne of his heart, cleft with the +blind Bowe-boyes but-shaft, and is he a man to encounter +Tybalt? + Ben. Why what is Tibalt? + Mer. More then Prince of Cats. Oh hee's the Couragious +Captaine of Complements: he fights as you sing +pricksong, keeps time, distance, and proportion, he rests +his minum, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very +butcher of a silk button, a Dualist, a Dualist: a Gentleman +of the very first house of the first and second cause: ah the +immortall Passado, the Punto reuerso, the Hay + + Ben. The what? + Mer. The Pox of such antique lisping affecting phantacies, +these new tuners of accent: Iesu a very good blade, +a very tall man, a very good whore. Why is not this a lamentable +thing Grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted +with these strange flies: these fashion Mongers, these +pardon-mee's, +who stand so much on the new form, that they +cannot sit at ease on the old bench. O their bones, their +bones. +Enter Romeo. + + Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo + + Mer. Without his Roe, like a dryed Hering. O flesh, +flesh, how art thou fishified? Now is he for the numbers +that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his Lady, was a kitchen +wench, marrie she had a better Loue to berime her: Dido +a dowdie, Cleopatra a Gipsie, Hellen and Hero, hildings +and Harlots: Thisbie a gray eie or so, but not to the purpose. +Signior Romeo, Bon iour, there's a French salutation to your +French slop: you gaue vs the counterfait fairely last +night + + Romeo. Good morrow to you both, what counterfeit +did I giue you? + Mer. The slip sir, the slip, can you not conceiue? + Rom. Pardon Mercutio, my businesse was great, and in +such a case as mine, a man may straine curtesie + + Mer. That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains +a man to bow in the hams + + Rom. Meaning to cursie + + Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it + + Rom. A most curteous exposition + + Mer. Nay, I am the very pinck of curtesie + + Rom. Pinke for flower + + Mer. Right + + Rom. Why then is my Pump well flowr'd + + Mer. Sure wit, follow me this ieast, now till thou hast +worne out thy Pump, that when the single sole of it is +worne, the ieast may remaine after the wearing, sole-singular + + Rom. O single sol'd ieast, +Soly singular for the singlenesse + + Mer. Come betweene vs good Benuolio, my wits faints + + Rom. Swits and spurs, +Swits and spurs, or Ile crie a match + + Mer. Nay, if our wits run the Wild-Goose chase, I am +done: For thou hast more of the Wild-Goose in one of +thy wits, then I am sure I haue in my whole fiue. Was I +with you there for the Goose? + Rom. Thou wast neuer with mee for any thing, when +thou wast not there for the Goose + + Mer. I will bite thee by the eare for that iest + + Rom. Nay, good Goose bite not + + Mer. Thy wit is a very Bitter-sweeting, +It is a most sharpe sawce + + Rom. And is it not well seru'd into a Sweet-Goose? + Mer. Oh here's a wit of Cheuerell, that stretches from +an ynch narrow, to an ell broad + + Rom. I stretch it out for that word, broad, which added +to the Goose, proues thee farre and wide, abroad Goose + + Mer. Why is not this better now, then groning for +Loue, now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo: now art +thou what thou art, by Art as well as by Nature, for this +driueling Loue is like a great Naturall, that runs lolling +vp and downe to hid his bable in a hole + + Ben. Stop there, stop there + + Mer. Thou desir'st me to stop in my tale against the haire + + Ben. Thou would'st else haue made thy tale large + + Mer. O thou art deceiu'd, I would haue made it short, +or I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant +indeed to occupie the argument no longer. +Enter Nurse and her man. + + Rom. Here's a goodly geare. +A sayle, a sayle + + Mer. Two, two: a Shirt and a Smocke + + Nur. Peter? + Peter. Anon + + Nur. My Fan Peter? + Mer. Good Peter to hide her face? +For her Fans the fairer face? + Nur. God ye good morrow Gentlemen + + Mer. God ye gooden faire Gentlewoman + + Nur. Is it gooden? + Mer. 'Tis no lesse I tell you: for the bawdy hand of the +Dyall is now vpon the pricke of Noone + + Nur. Out vpon you: what a man are you? + Rom. One Gentlewoman, +That God hath made, himselfe to mar + + Nur. By my troth it is said, for himselfe to, mar quatha: +Gentlemen, can any of you tel me where I may find +the young Romeo? + Romeo. I can tell you: but young Romeo will be older +when you haue found him, then he was when you sought +him: I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse + + Nur. You say well + + Mer. Yea is the worst well, +Very well tooke: Ifaith, wisely, wisely + + Nur. If you be he sir, +I desire some confidence with you? + Ben. She will endite him to some Supper + + Mer. A baud, a baud, a baud. So ho + + Rom. What hast thou found? + Mer. No Hare sir, vnlesse a Hare sir in a Lenten pie, +that is something stale and hoare ere it be spent. +An old Hare hoare, and an old Hare hoare is very good +meat in Lent. +But a Hare that is hoare is too much for a score, when it +hoares ere it be spent, +Romeo will you come to your Fathers? Weele to dinner +thither + + Rom. I will follow you + + Mer. Farewell auncient Lady: +Farewell Lady, Lady, Lady. + +Exit. Mercutio, Benuolio. + + Nur. I pray you sir, what sawcie Merchant was this +that was so full of his roperie? + Rom. A Gentleman Nurse, that loues to heare himselfe +talke, and will speake more in a minute, then he will stand +to in a Moneth + + Nur. And a speake any thing against me, Ile take him +downe, z a were lustier then he is, and twentie such Iacks: +and if I cannot, Ile finde those that shall: scuruie knaue, I +am none of his flurt-gils, I am none of his skaines mates, +and thou must stand by too and suffer euery knaue to vse +me at his pleasure + + Pet. I saw no man vse you at his pleasure: if I had, my +weapon should quickly haue beene out, I warrant you, I +dare draw assoone as another man, if I see occasion in a +good quarrell, and the law on my side + + Nur. Now afore God, I am so vext, that euery part about +me quiuers, skuruy knaue: pray you sir a word: and as I +told you, my young Lady bid me enquire you out, what +she bid me say, I will keepe to my selfe: but first let me +tell ye, if ye should leade her in a fooles paradise, as they +say, it were a very grosse kind of behauiour, as they say: +for the Gentlewoman is yong: & therefore, if you should +deale double with her, truely it were an ill thing to be offered +to any Gentlewoman, and very weake dealing + + Nur. Nurse commend me to thy Lady and Mistresse, I +protest vnto thee + + Nur. Good heart, and yfaith I will tell her as much: +Lord, Lord she will be a ioyfull woman + + Rom. What wilt thou tell her Nurse? thou doest not +marke me? + Nur. I will tell her sir, that you do protest, which as I +take it, is a Gentleman-like offer + + Rom. Bid her deuise some meanes to come to shrift this +afternoone, +And there she shall at Frier Lawrence Cell +Be shriu'd and married: here is for thy paines + + Nur. No truly sir not a penny + + Rom. Go too, I say you shall + + Nur. This afternoone sir? well she shall be there + + Ro. And stay thou good Nurse behind the Abbey wall, +Within this houre my man shall be with thee, +And bring thee Cords made like a tackled staire, +Which to the high top gallant of my ioy, +Must be my conuoy in the secret night. +Farewell, be trustie and Ile quite thy paines: +Farewell, commend me to thy Mistresse + + Nur. Now God in heauen blesse thee: harke you sir, + Rom. What saist thou my deare Nurse? + Nurse. Is your man secret, did you nere heare say two +may keepe counsell putting one away + + Ro. Warrant thee my man is true as steele + + Nur. Well sir, my Mistresse is the sweetest Lady, Lord, +Lord, when 'twas a little prating thing. O there is a Noble +man in Towne one Paris, that would faine lay knife aboard: +but she good soule had as leeue see a Toade, a very +Toade as see him: I anger her sometimes, and tell her that +Paris is the properer man, but Ile warrant you, when I say +so, shee lookes as pale as any clout in the versall world. +Doth not Rosemarie and Romeo begin both with a letter? + Rom. I Nurse, what of that? Both with an R + Nur. A mocker that's the dogs name. R. is for the no, +I know it begins with some other letter, and she hath the +prettiest sententious of it, of you and Rosemary, that it +would do you good to heare it + + Rom. Commend me to thy Lady + + Nur. I a thousand times. Peter? + Pet. Anon + + Nur. Before and apace. + +Exit Nurse and Peter. + +Enter Iuliet. + + Iul. The clocke strook nine, when I did send the Nurse, +In halfe an houre she promised to returne, +Perchance she cannot meete him: that's not so: +Oh she is lame, Loues Herauld should be thoughts, +Which ten times faster glides then the Sunnes beames, +Driuing backe shadowes ouer lowring hils. +Therefore do nimble Pinion'd Doues draw Loue, +And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings: +Now is the Sun vpon the highmost hill +Of this daies iourney, and from nine till twelue, +Is three long houres, yet she is not come. +Had she affections and warme youthfull blood, +She would be as swift in motion as a ball, +My words would bandy her to my sweete Loue, +And his to me, but old folkes, +Many faine as they were dead, +Vnwieldie, slow, heauy, and pale as lead. +Enter Nurse. + +O God she comes, O hony Nurse what newes? +Hast thou met with him? send thy man away + + Nur. Peter stay at the gate + + Iul. Now good sweet Nurse: +O Lord, why lookest thou sad? +Though newes, be sad, yet tell them merrily. +If good thou sham'st the musicke of sweet newes, +By playing it to me, with so sower a face + + Nur. I am a weary, giue me leaue awhile, +Fie how my bones ake, what a iaunt haue I had? + Iul. I would thou had'st my bones, and I thy newes: +Nay come I pray thee speake, good good Nurse speake + + Nur. Iesu what hast? can you not stay a while? +Do you not see that I am out of breath? + Iul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breth +To say to me, that thou art out of breath? +The excuse that thou dost make in this delay, +Is longer then the tale thou dost excuse. +Is thy newes good or bad? answere to that, +Say either, and Ile stay the circumstance: +Let me be satisfied, ist good or bad? + Nur. Well, you haue made a simple choice, you know +not how to chuse a man: Romeo, no not he though his face +be better then any mans, yet his legs excels all mens, and +for a hand, and a foote, and a body, though they be not to +be talkt on, yet they are past compare: he is not the flower +of curtesie, but Ile warrant him as gentle a Lambe: go thy +waies wench, serue God. What haue you din'd at home? + Iul. No no: but all this did I know before +What saies he of our marriage? what of that? + Nur. Lord how my head akes, what a head haue I? +It beates as it would fall in twenty peeces. +My backe a tother side: o my backe, my backe: +Beshrew your heart for sending me about +To catch my death with iaunting vp and downe + + Iul. Ifaith: I am sorrie that thou art so well. +Sweet sweet, sweet Nurse, tell me what saies my Loue? + Nur. Your Loue saies like an honest Gentleman, +And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, +And I warrant a vertuous: where is your Mother? + Iul. Where is my Mother? +Why she is within, where should she be? +How odly thou repli'st: +Your Loue saies like an honest Gentleman: +Where is your Mother? + Nur. O Gods Lady deare, +Are you so hot? marrie come vp I trow, +Is this the Poultis for my aking bones? +Henceforward do your messages your selfe + + Iul. Heere's such a coile, come what saies Romeo? + Nur. Haue you got leaue to go to shift to day? + Iul. I haue + + Nur. Then high you hence to Frier Lawrence Cell, +There staies a Husband to make you a wife: +Now comes the wanton bloud vp in your cheekes, +Thei'le be in Scarlet straight at any newes: +Hie you to Church, I must an other way, +To fetch a Ladder by the which your Loue +Must climde a birds nest Soone when it is darke: +I am the drudge, and toile in your delight: +But you shall beare the burthen soone at night. +Go Ile to dinner, hie you to the Cell + + Iul. Hie to high Fortune, honest Nurse, farewell. + +Exeunt. + +Enter Frier and Romeo. + + Fri. So smile the heauens vpon this holy act, +That after houres, with sorrow chide vs not + + Rom. Amen, amen, but come what sorrow can, +It cannot counteruaile the exchange of ioy +That one short minute giues me in her sight: +Do thou but close our hands with holy words. +Then Loue-deuouring death do what he dare, +It is inough. I may call her mine + + Fri. These violent delights haue violent endes, +And in their triumph: die like fire and powder; +Which as they kisse consume. The sweetest honey +Is loathsome in his owne deliciousnesse, +And in the taste confoundes the appetite. +Therefore Loue moderately, long Loue doth so, +Too swift arriues as tardie as too slow. +Enter Iuliet. + +Here comes the Lady. Oh so light a foot +Will nere weare out the euerlasting flint, +A Louer may bestride the Gossamours, +That ydles in the wanton Summer ayre, +And yet not fall, so light is vanitie + + Iul. Good euen to my ghostly Confessor + + Fri. Romeo shall thanke thee Daughter for vs both + + Iul. As much to him, else in his thanks too much + + Fri. Ah Iuliet, if the measure of thy ioy +Be heapt like mine, and that thy skill be more +To blason it, then sweeten with thy breath +This neighbour ayre, and let rich musickes tongue, +Vnfold the imagin'd happinesse that both +Receiue in either, by this deere encounter + + Iul. Conceit more rich in matter then in words, +Brags of his substance, not of Ornament: +They are but beggers that can count their worth, +But my true Loue is growne to such excesse, +I cannot sum vp some of halfe my wealth + + Fri. Come, come with me, & we will make short worke, +For by your leaues, you shall not stay alone, +Till holy Church incorporate two in one. +Enter Mercutio, Benuolio, and men. + + Ben. I pray thee good Mercutio lets retire, +The day is hot, the Capulets abroad: +And if we meet, we shal not scape a brawle, for now these +hot dayes, is the mad blood stirring + + Mer. Thou art like one of these fellowes, that when he +enters the confines of a Tauerne, claps me his Sword vpon +the Table, and sayes, God send me no need of thee: and by +the operation of the second cup, drawes him on the Drawer, +when indeed there is no need + + Ben. Am I like such a Fellow? + Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Iacke in thy mood, +as any in Italie: and assoone moued to be moodie, and assoone +moodie to be mou'd + + Ben. And what too? + Mer. Nay, and there were two such, we should haue +none shortly, for one would kill the other: thou, why thou +wilt quarrell with a man that hath a haire more, or a haire +lesse in his beard, then thou hast: thou wilt quarrell with a +man for cracking Nuts, hauing no other reason, but because +thou hast hasell eyes: what eye, but such an eye, +would spie out such a quarrell? thy head is full of quarrels, +as an egge is full of meat, and yet thy head hath bin +beaten as addle as an egge for quarreling: thou hast quarrel'd +with a man for coffing in the street, because he hath +wakened thy Dog that hath laine asleepe in the Sun. Did'st +thou not fall out with a Tailor for wearing his new Doublet +before Easter? with another, for tying his new shooes +with old Riband, and yet thou wilt Tutor me from quarrelling? + Ben. And I were so apt to quarell as thou art, any man +should buy the Fee-simple of my life, for an houre and a +quarter + + Mer. The Fee-simple? O simple. +Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others. + + Ben. By my head here comes the Capulets + + Mer. By my heele I care not + + Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speake to them. +Gentlemen, Good den, a word with one of you + + Mer. And but one word with one of vs? couple it with +something, make it a word and a blow + + Tib. You shall find me apt inough to that sir, and you +will giue me occasion + + Mercu. Could you not take some occasion without +giuing? + Tib. Mercutio thou consort'st with Romeo + + Mer. Consort? what dost thou make vs Minstrels? & +thou make Minstrels of vs, looke to heare nothing but discords: +heere's my fiddlesticke, heere's that shall make you +daunce. Come consort + + Ben. We talke here in the publike haunt of men, +Either withdraw vnto some priuate place, +Or reason coldly of your greeuances: +Or else depart, here all eies gaze on vs + + Mer. Mens eyes were made to looke, and let them gaze. +I will not budge for no mans pleasure I. +Enter Romeo. + + Tib. Well peace be with you sir, here comes my man + + Mer. But Ile be hang'd sir if he weare your Liuery. +Marry go before to field, heele be your follower, +Your worship in that sense, may call him man + + Tib. Romeo, the loue I beare thee, can affoord +No better terme then this: Thou art a Villaine + + Rom. Tibalt, the reason that I haue to loue thee, +Doth much excuse the appertaining rage +To such a greeting: Villaine am I none; +Therefore farewell, I see thou know'st me not + + Tib. Boy, this shall not excuse the iniuries +That thou hast done me, therefore turne and draw + + Rom. I do protest I neuer iniur'd thee, +But lou'd thee better then thou can'st deuise: +Till thou shalt know the reason of my loue, +And so good Capulet, which name I tender +As dearely as my owne, be satisfied + + Mer. O calme, dishonourable, vile submission: +Alla stucatho carries it away. +Tybalt, you Rat-catcher, will you walke? + Tib. What wouldst thou haue with me? + Mer. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine +liues, that I meane to make bold withall, and as you shall +vse me hereafter dry beate the rest of the eight. Will you +pluck your Sword out of his Pilcher by the eares? Make +hast, least mine be about your eares ere it be out + + Tib. I am for you + + Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy Rapier vp + + Mer. Come sir, your Passado + + Rom. Draw Benuolio, beat downe their weapons: +Gentlemen, for shame forbeare this outrage, +Tibalt, Mercutio, the Prince expresly hath +Forbidden bandying in Verona streetes. +Hold Tybalt, good Mercutio. + +Exit Tybalt. + + Mer. I am hurt. +A plague a both the Houses, I am sped: +Is he gone and hath nothing? + Ben. What art thou hurt? + Mer. I, I, a scratch, a scratch, marry 'tis inough, +Where is my Page? go Villaine fetch a Surgeon + + Rom. Courage man, the hurt cannot be much + + Mer. No: 'tis not so deepe as a well, nor so wide as a +Church doore, but 'tis inough, 'twill serue: aske for me to +morrow, and you shall find me a graue man. I am pepper'd +I warrant, for this world: a plague a both your houses. +What, a Dog, a Rat, a Mouse, a Cat to scratch a man to +death: a Braggart, a Rogue, a Villaine, that fights by the +booke of Arithmeticke, why the deu'le came you betweene +vs? I was hurt vnder your arme + + Rom. I thought all for the best + + Mer. Helpe me into some house Benuolio, +Or I shall faint: a plague a both your houses. +They haue made wormesmeat of me, +I haue it, and soundly to your Houses. +Enter. + + Rom. This Gentleman the Princes neere Alie, +My very Friend hath got his mortall hurt +In my behalfe, my reputation stain'd +With Tibalts slaunder, Tybalt that an houre +Hath beene my Cozin: O Sweet Iuliet, +Thy Beauty hath made me Effeminate, +And in my temper softned Valours steele. +Enter Benuolio. + + + Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, braue Mercutio's is dead, +That Gallant spirit hath aspir'd the Cloudes, +Which too vntimely here did scorne the earth + + Rom. This daies blacke Fate, on mo daies depend, +This but begins, the wo others must end. +Enter Tybalt. + + Ben. Here comes the Furious Tybalt backe againe + + Rom. He gon in triumph, and Mercutio slaine? +Away to heauen respectiue Lenitie, +And fire and Fury, be my conduct now. +Now Tybalt take the Villaine backe againe +That late thou gau'st me, for Mercutios soule +Is but a little way aboue our heads, +Staying for thine to keepe him companie: +Either thou or I, or both, must goe with him + + Tib. Thou wretched Boy that didst consort him here, +Shalt with him hence + + Rom. This shall determine that. + +They fight. Tybalt falles. + + Ben. Romeo, away be gone: +The Citizens are vp, and Tybalt slaine, +Stand not amaz'd, the Prince will Doome thee death +If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away + + Rom. O! I am Fortunes foole + + Ben. Why dost thou stay? + +Exit Romeo. + +Enter Citizens. + + Citi. Which way ran he that kild Mercutio? + Tibalt that Murtherer, which way ran he? + Ben. There lies that Tybalt + + Citi. Vp sir go with me: +I charge thee in the Princes names obey. +Enter Prince, old Montague, Capulet, their Wiues and all. + + Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this Fray? + Ben. O Noble Prince, I can discouer all +The vnluckie Mannage of this fatall brall: +There lies the man slaine by young Romeo, +That slew thy kinsman braue Mercutio + + Cap. Wi. Tybalt, my Cozin? O my Brothers Child, +O Prince, O Cozin, Husband, O the blood is spild +Of my deare kinsman. Prince as thou art true, +For bloud of ours, shed bloud of Mountague. +O Cozin, Cozin + + Prin. Benuolio, who began this Fray? + Ben. Tybalt here slaine, whom Romeo's hand did slay, +Romeo that spoke him faire, bid him bethinke +How nice the Quarrell was, and vrg'd withall +Your high displeasure: all this vttered, +With gentle breath, calme looke, knees humbly bow'd +Could not take truce with the vnruly spleene +Of Tybalts deafe to peace, but that he Tilts +With Peircing steele at bold Mercutio's breast, +Who all as hot, turnes deadly point to point, +And with a Martiall scorne, with one hand beates +Cold death aside, and with the other sends +It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity +Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud, +Hold Friends, Friends part, and swifter then his tongue, +His aged arme, beats downe their fatall points, +And twixt them rushes, vnderneath whose arme, +An enuious thrust from Tybalt, hit the life +Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled. +But by and by comes backe to Romeo, +Who had but newly entertained Reuenge, +And too't they goe like lightning, for ere I +Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slaine: +And as he fell, did Romeo turne and flie: +This is the truth, or let Benuolio die + + Cap. Wi. He is a kinsman to the Mountague, +Affection makes him false, he speakes not true: +Some twenty of them fought in this blacke strife, +And all those twenty could but kill one life. +I beg for Iustice, which thou Prince must giue: +Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not liue + + Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio, +Who now the price of his deare blood doth owe + + Cap. Not Romeo Prince, he was Mercutios Friend, +His fault concludes, but what the law should end, +The life of Tybalt + + Prin. And for that offence, +Immediately we doe exile him hence: +I haue an interest in your hearts proceeding: +My bloud for your rude brawles doth lie a bleeding. +But Ile Amerce you with so strong a fine, +That you shall all repent the losse of mine. +It will be deafe to pleading and excuses, +Nor teares, nor prayers shall purchase our abuses. +Therefore vse none, let Romeo hence in hast, +Else when he is found, that houre is his last. +Beare hence his body, and attend our will: +Mercy not Murders, pardoning those that kill. + +Exeunt. + +Enter Iuliet alone. + + Iul. Gallop apace, you fiery footed steedes, +Towards Phoebus lodging, such a Wagoner +As Phaeton would whip you to the west, +And bring in Cloudie night immediately. +Spred thy close Curtaine Loue-performing night, +That run-awayes eyes may wincke, and Romeo +Leape to these armes, vntalkt of and vnseene, +Louers can see to doe their Amorous rights, +And by their owne Beauties: or if Loue be blind, +It best agrees with night: come ciuill night, +Thou sober suted Matron all in blacke, +And learne me how to loose a winning match, +Plaid for a paire of stainlesse Maidenhoods, +Hood my vnman'd blood bayting in my Cheekes, +With thy Blacke mantle, till strange Loue grow bold, +Thinke true Loue acted simple modestie: +Come night, come Romeo, come thou day in night, +For thou wilt lie vpon the wings of night +Whiter then new Snow vpon a Rauens backe: +Come gentle night, come louing blackebrow'd night. +Giue me my Romeo, and when I shall die, +Take him and cut him out in little starres, +And he will make the Face of heauen so fine, +That all the world will be in Loue with night, +And pay no worship to the Garish Sun. +O I haue bought the Mansion of a Loue, +But not possest it, and though I am sold, +Not yet enioy'd, so tedious is this day, +As is the night before some Festiuall, +To an impatient child that hath new robes +And may not weare them, O here comes my Nurse: +Enter Nurse with cords. + +And she brings newes and euery tongue that speaks +But Romeos name, speakes heauenly eloquence: +Now Nurse, what newes? what hast thou there? +The Cords that Romeo bid thee fetch? + Nur. I, I, the Cords + + Iuli. Ay me, what newes? +Why dost thou wring thy hands + + Nur. A weladay, hee's dead, hee's dead, +We are vndone Lady, we are vndone. +Alacke the day, hee's gone, hee's kil'd, he's dead + + Iul. Can heauen be so enuious? + Nur. Romeo can, +Though heauen cannot. O Romeo, Romeo. +Who euer would haue thought it Romeo + + Iuli. What diuell art thou, +That dost torment me thus? +This torture should be roar'd in dismall hell, +Hath Romeo slaine himselfe? say thou but I, +And that bare vowell I shall poyson more +Then the death-darting eye of Cockatrice, +I am not I, if there be such an I. +Or those eyes shot, that makes thee answere I: +If he be slaine say I, or if not, no. +Briefe, sounds, determine of my weale or wo + + Nur. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes, +God saue the marke, here on his manly brest, +A pitteous Coarse, a bloody piteous Coarse: +Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb'd in blood, +All in gore blood I sounded at the sight + + Iul. O breake my heart, +Poore Banckrout breake at once, +To prison eyes, nere looke on libertie. +Vile earth to earth resigne, end motion here, +And thou and Romeo presse on heauie beere + + Nur. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best Friend I had: +O curteous Tybalt honest Gentleman, +That euer I should liue to see thee dead + + Iul. What storme is this that blowes so contrarie? +Is Romeo slaughtred? and is Tybalt dead? +My dearest Cozen, and my dearer Lord: +Then dreadfull Trumpet sound the generall doome, +For who is liuing, if those two are gone? + Nur. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished, +Romeo that kil'd him, he is banished + + Iul. O God! +Did Romeo's hand shed Tybalts blood +It did, it did, alas the day, it did + + Nur. O Serpent heart hid with a flowring face + + Iul. Did euer Dragon keepe so faire a Caue? +Beautifull Tyrant, fiend Angelicall: +Rauenous Doue-feather'd Rauen, +Woluish-rauening Lambe, +Dispised substance of Diuinest show: +Iust opposite to what thou iustly seem'st, +A dimne Saint, an Honourable Villaine: +O Nature! what had'st thou to doe in hell, +When thou did'st bower the spirit of a fiend +In mortall paradise of such sweet flesh? +Was euer booke containing such vile matter +So fairely bound? O that deceit should dwell +In such a gorgeous Pallace + + Nur. There's no trust, no faith, no honestie in men, +All periur'd, all forsworne, all naught, all dissemblers, +Ah where's my man? giue me some Aqua-vitae? +These griefes, these woes, these sorrowes make me old: +Shame come to Romeo + + Iul. Blister'd be thy tongue +For such a wish, he was not borne to shame: +Vpon his brow shame is asham'd to sit; +For 'tis a throane where Honour may be Crown'd +Sole Monarch of the vniuersall earth: +O what a beast was I to chide him? + Nur. Will you speake well of him, +That kil'd your Cozen? + Iul. Shall I speake ill of him that is my husband? +Ah poore my Lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, +When I thy three houres wife haue mangled it. +But wherefore Villaine did'st thou kill my Cozin? +That Villaine Cozin would haue kil'd my husband: +Backe foolish teares, backe to your natiue spring, +Your tributarie drops belong to woe, +Which you mistaking offer vp to ioy: +My husband liues that Tibalt would haue slaine, +And Tibalt dead that would haue slaine my husband: +All this is comfort, wherefore weepe I then? +Some words there was worser then Tybalts death +That murdered me, I would forget it feine, +But oh, it presses to my memory, +Like damned guilty deedes to sinners minds, +Tybalt is dead and Romeo banished: +That banished, that one word banished, +Hath slaine ten thousand Tibalts: Tibalts death +Was woe inough if it had ended there: +Or if sower woe delights in fellowship, +And needly will be rankt with other griefes, +Why followed not when she said Tibalts dead, +Thy Father or thy Mother, nay or both, +Which moderne lamentation might haue mou'd. +But which a rere-ward following Tybalts death +Romeo is banished to speake that word, +Is Father, Mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Iuliet, +All slaine, all dead: Romeo is banished, +There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, +In that words death, no words can that woe sound. +Where is my Father and my Mother Nurse? + Nur. Weeping and wailing ouer Tybalts Coarse, +Will you go to them? I will bring you thither + + Iu. Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shal be spent +When theirs are drie for Romeo's banishment. +Take vp those Cordes, poore ropes you are beguil'd, +Both you and I for Romeo is exild: +He made you for a high-way to my bed, +But I a Maid, die Maiden widowed. +Come Cord, come Nurse, Ile to my wedding bed, +And death not Romeo, take my Maiden head + + Nur. Hie to your Chamber, Ile find Romeo +To comfort you, I wot well where he is: +Harke ye your Romeo will be heere at night, +Ile to him, he is hid at Lawrence Cell + + Iul. O find him, giue this Ring to my true Knight, +And bid him come, to take his last farewell. + +Exit + +Enter Frier and Romeo. + + Fri. Romeo come forth, +Come forth thou fearfull man, +Affliction is enamor'd of thy parts +And thou art wedded to calamitie, + Rom. Father what newes? +What is the Princes Doome? +What sorrow craues acquaintance at my hand, +That I yet know not? + Fri. Too familiar +Is my deare Sonne with such sowre Company +I bring thee tydings of the Princes Doome + + Rom. What lesse then Doomesday, +Is the Princes Doome? + Fri. A gentler iudgement vanisht from his lips, +Not bodies death, but bodies banishment + + Rom. Ha, banishment? be mercifull, say death: +For exile hath more terror in his looke, +Much more then death: do not say banishment + + Fri. Here from Verona art thou banished: +Be patient, for the world is broad and wide + + Rom. There is no world without Verona walles, +But Purgatorie, Torture, hell it selfe: +Hence banished, is banisht from the world, +And worlds exile is death. Then banished, +Is death, mistearm'd, calling death banished, +Thou cut'st my head off with a golden Axe, +And smilest vpon the stroke that murders me + + Fri. O deadly sin, O rude vnthankefulnesse! +Thy falt our Law calles death, but the kind Prince +Taking thy part, hath rusht aside the Law, +And turn'd that blacke word death, to banishment. +This is deare mercy, and thou seest it not + + Rom. 'Tis Torture and not mercy, heauen is here +Where Iuliet liues, and euery Cat and Dog, +And little Mouse, euery vnworthy thing +Liue here in Heauen and may looke on her, +But Romeo may not. More Validitie, +More Honourable state, more Courtship liues +In carrion Flies, then Romeo: they may seaze +On the white wonder of deare Iuliets hand, +And steale immortall blessing from her lips, +Who euen in pure and vestall modestie +Still blush, as thinking their owne kisses sin. +This may Flies doe, when I from this must flie, +And saist thou yet, that exile is not death? +But Romeo may not, hee is banished. +Had'st thou no poyson mixt, no sharpe ground knife, +No sudden meane of death, though nere so meane, +But banished to kill me? Banished? +O Frier, the damned vse that word in hell: +Howlings attends it, how hast then the hart +Being a Diuine, a Ghostly Confessor, +A Sin-Absoluer, and my Friend profest: +To mangle me with that word, banished? + Fri. Then fond Mad man, heare me speake + + Rom. O thou wilt speake againe of banishment + + Fri. Ile giue thee Armour to keepe off that word, +Aduersities sweete milke, Philosophie, +To comfort thee, though thou art banished + + Rom. Yet banished? hang vp Philosophie: +Vnlesse Philosophie can make a Iuliet, +Displant a Towne, reuerse a Princes Doome, +It helpes not, it preuailes not, talke no more + + Fri. O then I see, that Mad men haue no eares + + Rom. How should they, +When wisemen haue no eyes? + Fri. Let me dispaire with thee of thy estate, + Rom. Thou can'st not speake of that y dost not feele, +Wert thou as young as Iuliet my Loue: +An houre but married, Tybalt murdered, +Doting like me, and like me banished, +Then mightest thou speake, +Then mightest thou teare thy hayre, +And fall vpon the ground as I doe now, +Taking the measure of an vnmade graue. +Enter Nurse, and knockes. + + Frier. Arise one knockes, +Good Romeo hide thy selfe + + Rom. Not I, +Vnlesse the breath of Hartsicke groanes +Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes. + +Knocke + + Fri. Harke how they knocke: +(Who's there) Romeo arise, +Thou wilt be taken, stay a while, stand vp: + +Knocke. + +Run to my study: by and by, Gods will +What simplenesse is this: I come, I come. + +Knocke. + +Who knocks so hard? +Whence come you? what's your will? +Enter Nurse. + + Nur. Let me come in, +And you shall know my errand: +I come from Lady Iuliet + + Fri. Welcome then + + Nur. O holy Frier, O tell me holy Frier, +Where's my Ladies Lord? where's Romeo? + Fri. There on the ground, +With his owne teares made drunke + + Nur. O he is euen in my Mistresse case, +Iust in her case. O wofull simpathy: +Pittious predicament, euen so lies she, +Blubbring and weeping, weeping and blubbring, +Stand vp, stand vp, stand and you be a man, +For Iuliets sake, for her sake rise and stand: +Why should you fall into so deepe an O + + Rom. Nurse + + Nur. Ah sir, ah sir, deaths the end of all + + Rom. Speak'st thou of Iuliet? how is it with her? +Doth not she thinke me an old Murtherer, +Now I haue stain'd the Childhood of our ioy, +With blood remoued, but little from her owne? +Where is she? and how doth she? and what sayes +My conceal'd Lady to our conceal'd Loue? + Nur. Oh she sayes nothing sir, but weeps and weeps, +And now fals on her bed, and then starts vp, +And Tybalt calls, and then on Romeo cries, +And then downe falls againe + + Ro. As if that name shot from the dead leuell of a Gun, +Did murder her, as that names cursed hand +Murdred her kinsman. Oh tell me Frier, tell me, +In what vile part of this Anatomie +Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sacke +The hatefull Mansion + + Fri. Hold thy desperate hand: +Art thou a man? thy forme cries out thou art: +Thy teares are womanish, thy wild acts denote +The vnreasonable Furie of a beast. +Vnseemely woman, in a seeming man, +And ill beseeming beast in seeming both, +Thou hast amaz'd me. By my holy order, +I thought thy disposition better temper'd. +Hast thou slaine Tybalt? wilt thou slay thy selfe? +And slay thy Lady, that in thy life lies, +By doing damned hate vpon thy selfe? +Why rayl'st thou on thy birth? the heauen and earth? +Since birth, and heauen and earth, all three do meete +In thee at once, which thou at once would'st loose. +Fie, fie, thou sham'st thy shape, thy loue, thy wit, +Which like a Vsurer abound'st in all: +And vsest none in that true vse indeed, +Which should bedecke thy shape, thy loue, thy wit: +Thy Noble shape, is but a forme of waxe, +Digressing from the Valour of a man, +Thy deare Loue sworne but hollow periurie, +Killing that Loue which thou hast vow'd to cherish. +Thy wit, that Ornament, to shape and Loue, +Mishapen in the conduct of them both: +Like powder in a skillesse Souldiers flaske, +Is set a fire by thine owne ignorance, +And thou dismembred with thine owne defence. +What, rowse thee man, thy Iuliet is aliue, +For whose deare sake thou wast but lately dead. +There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee, +But thou slew'st Tybalt, there art thou happie. +The law that threatned death became thy Friend. +And turn'd it to exile, there art thou happy. +A packe or blessing light vpon thy backe, +Happinesse Courts thee in her best array, +But like a mishaped and sullen wench, +Thou puttest vp thy Fortune and thy Loue: +Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. +Goe get thee to thy Loue as was decreed, +Ascend her Chamber, hence and comfort her: +But looke thou stay not till the watch be set, +For then thou canst not passe to Mantua, +Where thou shalt liue till we can finde a time +To blaze your marriage, reconcile your Friends, +Beg pardon of thy Prince, and call thee backe, +With twenty hundred thousand times more ioy +Then thou went'st forth in lamentation. +Goe before Nurse, commend me to thy Lady, +And bid her hasten all the house to bed, +Which heauy sorrow makes them apt vnto. +Romeo is comming + + Nur. O Lord, I could haue staid here all night, +To heare good counsell: oh what learning is! +My Lord Ile tell my Lady you will come + + Rom. Do so, and bid my Sweete prepare to chide + + Nur. Heere sir, a Ring she bid me giue you sir: +Hie you, make hast, for it growes very late + + Rom. How well my comfort is reuiu'd by this + + Fri. Go hence, +Goodnight, and here stands all your state: +Either be gone before the watch be set, +Or by the breake of day disguis'd from hence, +Soiourne in Mantua, Ile find out your man, +And he shall signifie from time to time, +Euery good hap to you, that chaunces heere: +Giue me thy hand, 'tis late, farewell, goodnight + + Rom. But that a ioy past ioy, calls out on me, +It were a griefe, so briefe to part with thee: +Farewell. + +Exeunt. + +Enter old Capulet, his Wife and Paris. + + Cap. Things haue falne out sir so vnluckily, +That we haue had no time to moue our Daughter: +Looke you, she Lou'd her kinsman Tybalt dearely, +And so did I. Well, we were borne to die. +'Tis very late, she'l not come downe to night: +I promise you, but for your company, +I would haue bin a bed an houre ago + + Par. These times of wo, affoord no times to wooe: +Madam goodnight, commend me to your Daughter + + Lady. I will, and know her mind early to morrow, +To night, she is mewed vp to her heauinesse + + Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender +Of my Childes loue: I thinke she will be rul'd +In all respects by me: nay more, I doubt it not. +Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed, +Acquaint her here, of my Sonne Paris Loue, +And bid her, marke you me, on Wendsday next, +But soft, what day is this? + Par. Monday my Lord + + Cap. Monday, ha ha: well Wendsday is too soone, +A Thursday let it be: a Thursday tell her, +She shall be married to this Noble Earle: +Will you be ready? do you like this hast? +Weele keepe no great adoe, a Friend or two, +For harke you, Tybalt being slaine so late, +It may be thought we held him carelesly, +Being our kinsman, if we reuell much: +Therefore weele haue some halfe a dozen Friends, +And there an end. But what say you to Thursday? + Paris. My Lord, +I would that Thursday were to morrow + + Cap. Well, get you gone, a Thursday, be it then: +Go you to Iuliet ere you go to bed, +Prepare her wife, against this wedding day. +Farewell my Lord, light to my Chamber hoa, +Afore me, it is so late, that we may call it early by and by, +Goodnight. + +Exeunt. + +Enter Romeo and Iuliet aloft. + + Iul. Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet neere day: +It was the Nightingale, and not the Larke, +That pier'st the fearefull hollow of thine eare, +Nightly she sings on yond Pomgranet tree, +Beleeue me Loue, it was the Nightingale + + Rom. It was the Larke the Herauld of the Morne: +No Nightingale: looke Loue what enuious streakes +Do lace the seuering Cloudes in yonder East: +Nights Candles are burnt out, and Iocond day +Stands tipto on the mistie Mountaines tops, +I must be gone and liue, or stay and die + + Iul. Yond light is not daylight, I know it I: +It is some Meteor that the Sun exhales, +To be to thee this night a Torch-bearer, +And light thee on thy way to Mantua. +Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not be gone, + Rom. Let me be tane, let me be put to death, +I am content, so thou wilt haue it so. +Ile say yon gray is not the mornings eye, +'Tis but the pale reflexe of Cinthias brow. +Nor that is not Larke whose noates do beate +The vaulty heauen so high aboue our heads, +I haue more care to stay, then will to go: +Come death and welcome, Iuliet wills it so. +How ist my soule, lets talke, it is not day + + Iuli. It is, it is, hie hence be gone away: +It is the Larke that sings so out of tune, +Straining harsh Discords, and vnpleasing Sharpes. +Some say the Larke makes sweete Diuision; +This doth not so: for she diuideth vs. +Some say, the Larke and loathed Toad change eyes, +O now I would they had chang'd voyces too: +Since arme from arme that voyce doth vs affray, +Hunting thee hence, with Hunts-vp to the day, +O now be gone, more light and it light growes + + Rom. More light & light, more darke & darke our woes. +Enter Madam and Nurse. + + Nur. Madam + + Iul. Nurse + + Nur. Your Lady Mother is comming to your chamber, +The day is broke, be wary, looke about + + Iul. Then window let day in, and let life out + + Rom. Farewell, farewell, one kisse and Ile descend + + Iul. Art thou gone so? Loue, Lord, ay Husband, Friend, +I must heare from thee euery day in the houre, +For in a minute there are many dayes, +O by this count I shall be much in yeares, +Ere I againe behold my Romeo + + Rom. Farewell: +I will omit no oportunitie, +That may conuey my greetings Loue, to thee + + Iul. O thinkest thou we shall euer meet againe? + Rom. I doubt it not, and all these woes shall serue +For sweet discourses in our time to come + + Iuliet. O God! I haue an ill Diuining soule, +Me thinkes I see thee now, thou art so lowe, +As one dead in the bottome of a Tombe, +Either my eye-sight failes, or thou look'st pale + + Rom. And trust me Loue, in my eye so do you: +Drie sorrow drinkes our blood. Adue, adue. +Enter. + + Iul. O Fortune, Fortune, all men call thee fickle, +If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him +That is renown'd for faith? be fickle Fortune: +For then I hope thou wilt not keepe him long, +But send him backe. +Enter Mother. + + Lad. Ho Daughter, are you vp? + Iul. Who ist that calls? Is it my Lady Mother. +Is she not downe so late, or vp so early? +What vnaccustom'd cause procures her hither? + Lad. Why how now Iuliet? + Iul. Madam I am not well + + Lad. Euermore weeping for your Cozins death? +What wilt thou wash him from his graue with teares? +And if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him liue: +Therefore haue done, some griefe shewes much of Loue, +But much of griefe, shewes still some want of wit + + Iul. Yet let me weepe, for such a feeling losse + + Lad. So shall you feele the losse, but not the Friend +Which you weepe for + + Iul. Feeling so the losse, +I cannot chuse but euer weepe the Friend + + La. Well Girle, thou weep'st not so much for his death, +As that the Villaine liues which slaughter'd him + + Iul. What Villaine, Madam? + Lad. That same Villaine Romeo + + Iul. Villaine and he, be many miles assunder: +God pardon, I doe with all my heart: +And yet no man like he, doth grieue my heart + + Lad. That is because the Traitor liues + + Iul. I Madam from the reach of these my hands: +Would none but I might venge my Cozins death + + Lad. We will haue vengeance for it, feare thou not. +Then weepe no more, Ile send to one in Mantua, +Where that same banisht Run-agate doth liue, +Shall giue him such an vnaccustom'd dram, +That he shall soone keepe Tybalt company: +And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied + + Iul. Indeed I neuer shall be satisfied +With Romeo, till I behold him. Dead +Is my poore heart so for a kinsman vext: +Madam, if you could find out but a man +To beare a poyson, I would temper it; +That Romeo should vpon receit thereof, +Soone sleepe in quiet. O how my heart abhors +To heare him nam'd, and cannot come to him, +To wreake the Loue I bore my Cozin, +Vpon his body that hath slaughter'd him + + Mo. Find thou the meanes, and Ile find such a man. +But now Ile tell thee ioyfull tidings Gyrle + + Iul. And ioy comes well, in such a needy time, +What are they, beseech your Ladyship? + Mo. Well, well, thou hast a carefull Father Child? +One who to put thee from thy heauinesse, +Hath sorted out a sudden day of ioy, +That thou expects not, nor I lookt not for + + Iul. Madam in happy time, what day is this? + Mo. Marry my Child, early next Thursday morne, +The gallant, young, and Noble Gentleman, +The Countie Paris at Saint Peters Church, +Shall happily make thee a ioyfull Bride + + Iul. Now by Saint Peters Church, and Peter too, +He shall not make me there a ioyfull Bride. +I wonder at this hast, that I must wed +Ere he that should be Husband comes to woe: +I pray you tell my Lord and Father Madam, +I will not marrie yet, and when I doe, I sweare +It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate +Rather then Paris. These are newes indeed + + Mo. Here comes your Father, tell him so your selfe, +And see how he will take it at your hands. +Enter Capulet and Nurse. + + Cap. When the Sun sets, the earth doth drizzle deaw +But for the Sunset of my Brothers Sonne, +It raines downright. +How now? A Conduit Gyrle, what still in teares? +Euermore showring in one little body? +Thou counterfaits a Barke, a Sea, a Wind: +For still thy eyes, which I may call the Sea, +Do ebbe and flow with teares, the Barke thy body is +Sayling in this salt floud, the windes thy sighes, +Who raging with the teares and they with them, +Without a sudden calme will ouer set +Thy tempest tossed body. How now wife? +Haue you deliuered to her our decree? + Lady. I sir; +But she will none, she giues you thankes, +I would the foole were married to her graue + + Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you wife, +How, will she none? doth she not giue vs thanks? +Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest, +Vnworthy as she is, that we haue wrought +So worthy a Gentleman, to be her Bridegroome + Iul. Not proud you haue, +But thankfull that you haue: +Proud can I neuer be of what I haue, +But thankfull euen for hate, that is meant Loue + + Cap. How now? +How now? Chopt Logicke? what is this? +Proud, and I thanke you: and I thanke you not. +Thanke me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, +But fettle your fine ioints 'gainst Thursday next, +To go with Paris to Saint Peters Church: +Or I will drag thee, on a Hurdle thither. +Out you greene sicknesse carrion, out you baggage, +You tallow face + + Lady. Fie, fie, what are you mad? + Iul. Good Father, I beseech you on my knees +Heare me with patience, but to speake a word + + Fa. Hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch, +I tell thee what, get thee to Church a Thursday, +Or neuer after looke me in the face. +Speake not, reply not, do not answere me. +My fingers itch, wife: we scarce thought vs blest, +That God had lent vs but this onely Child, +But now I see this one is one too much, +And that we haue a curse in hauing her: +Out on her Hilding + + Nur. God in heauen blesse her, +You are too blame my Lord to rate her so + + Fa. And why my Lady wisedome? hold your tongue, +Good Prudence, smatter with your gossip, go + + Nur. I speak no treason, +Father, O Godigoden, +May not one speake? + Fa. Peace you mumbling foole, +Vtter your grauitie ore a Gossips bowles +For here we need it not + + La. You are too hot + + Fa. Gods bread, it makes me mad: +Day, night, houre, ride, time, worke, play, +Alone in companie, still my care hath bin +To haue her matcht, and hauing now prouided +A Gentleman of Noble Parentage, +Of faire Demeanes, Youthfull, and Nobly Allied, +Stuft as they say with Honourable parts, +Proportion'd as ones thought would wish a man, +And then to haue a wretched puling foole, +A whining mammet, in her Fortunes tender, +To answer, Ile not wed, I cannot Loue: +I am too young, I pray you pardon me. +But, and you will not wed, Ile pardon you. +Graze where you will, you shall not house with me: +Looke too't, thinke on't, I do not vse to iest. +Thursday is neere, lay hand on heart, aduise, +And you be mine, Ile giue you to my Friend: +And you be not, hang, beg, starue, die in the streets, +For by my soule, Ile nere acknowledge thee, +Nor what is mine shall neuer do thee good: +Trust too't, bethinke you, Ile not be forsworne +Enter. + + Iuli. Is there no pittie sitting in the Cloudes, +That sees into the bottome of my griefe? +O sweet my Mother cast me not away, +Delay this marriage, for a month, a weeke, +Or if you do not, make the Bridall bed +In that dim Monument where Tybalt lies + + Mo. Talke not to me, for Ile not speake a word, +Do as thou wilt, for I haue done with thee. +Enter. + + Iul. O God! +O Nurse, how shall this be preuented? +My Husband is on earth, my faith in heauen, +How shall that faith returne againe to earth, +Vnlesse that Husband send it me from heauen, +By leauing earth? Comfort me, counsaile me: +Alacke, alacke, that heauen should practise stratagems +Vpon so soft a subiect as my selfe. +What saist thou? hast thou not a word of ioy? +Some comfort Nurse + + Nur. Faith here it is, +Romeo is banished, and all the world to nothing, +That he dares nere come backe to challenge you: +Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth. +Then since the case so stands as now it doth, +I thinke it best you married with the Countie, +O hee's a Louely Gentleman: +Romeos a dish-clout to him: an Eagle Madam +Hath not so greene, so quicke, so faire an eye +As Paris hath, beshrow my very heart, +I thinke you are happy in this second match, +For it excels your first: or if it did not, +Your first is dead, or 'twere as good he were, +As liuing here and you no vse of him + + Iul. Speakest thou from thy heart? + Nur. And from my soule too, +Or else beshrew them both + + Iul. Amen + + Nur. What? + Iul. Well, thou hast comforted me marue'lous much, +Go in, and tell my Lady I am gone, +Hauing displeas'd my Father, to Lawrence Cell, +To make confession, and to be absolu'd + + Nur. Marrie I will, and this is wisely done + + Iul. Auncient damnation, O most wicked fiend! +It is more sin to wish me thus forsworne, +Or to dispraise my Lord with that same tongue +Which she hath prais'd him with aboue compare, +So many thousand times? Go Counsellor, +Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twaine: +Ile to the Frier to know his remedie, +If all else faile, my selfe haue power to die. + +Exeunt. + +Enter Frier and Countie Paris. + + Fri. On Thursday sir? the time is very short + + Par. My Father Capulet will haue it so, +And I am nothing slow to slack his hast + + Fri. You say you do not know the Ladies mind? +Vneuen is the course, I like it not + + Pa. Immoderately she weepes for Tybalts death, +And therfore haue I little talke of Loue, +For Venus smiles not in a house of teares. +Now sir, her Father counts it dangerous +That she doth giue her sorrow so much sway: +And in his wisedome, hasts our marriage, +To stop the inundation of her teares, +Which too much minded by her selfe alone, +May be put from her by societie. +Now doe you know the reason of this hast? + Fri. I would I knew not why it should be slow'd. +Looke sir, here comes the Lady towards my Cell. +Enter Iuliet. + + Par. Happily met, my Lady and my wife + + Iul. That may be sir, when I may be a wife + + Par. That may be, must be Loue, on Thursday next + + Iul. What must be shall be + + Fri. That's a certaine text + + Par. Come you to make confession to this Father? + Iul. To answere that, I should confesse to you + + Par. Do not denie to him, that you Loue me + + Iul. I will confesse to you that I Loue him + + Par. So will ye, I am sure that you Loue me + + Iul. If I do so, it will be of more price, +Being spoke behind your backe, then to your face + + Par. Poore soule, thy face is much abus'd with teares + + Iul. The teares haue got small victorie by that: +For it was bad inough before their spight + + Pa. Thou wrong'st it more then teares with that report + + Iul. That is no slaunder sir, which is a truth, +And what I spake, I spake it to thy face + + Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slaundred it + + Iul. It may be so, for it is not mine owne. +Are you at leisure, Holy Father now, +Or shall I come to you at euening Masse? + Fri. My leisure serues me pensiue daughter now. +My Lord you must intreat the time alone + + Par. Godsheild: I should disturbe Deuotion, +Iuliet, on Thursday early will I rowse yee, +Till then adue, and keepe this holy kisse. + +Exit Paris. + + Iul. O shut the doore, and when thou hast done so, +Come weepe with me, past hope, past care, past helpe + + Fri. O Iuliet, I alreadie know thy griefe, +It streames me past the compasse of my wits: +I heare thou must and nothing may prorogue it, +On Thursday next be married to this Countie + + Iul. Tell me not Frier that thou hearest of this, +Vnlesse thou tell me how I may preuent it: +If in thy wisedome, thou canst giue no helpe, +Do thou but call my resolution wise, +And with this knife, Ile helpe it presently. +God ioyn'd my heart, and Romeos, thou our hands, +And ere this hand by thee to Romeo seal'd: +Shall be the Labell to another Deede, +Or my true heart with trecherous reuolt, +Turne to another, this shall slay them both: +Therefore out of thy long experien'st time, +Giue me some present counsell, or behold +Twixt my extreames and me, this bloody knife +Shall play the vmpeere, arbitrating that, +Which the commission of thy yeares and art, +Could to no issue of true honour bring: +Be not so long to speak, I long to die, +If what thou speak'st, speake not of remedy + + Fri. Hold Daughter, I doe spie a kind of hope, +Which craues as desperate an execution, +As that is desperate which we would preuent. +If rather then to marrie Countie Paris +Thou hast the strength of will to slay thy selfe, +Then is it likely thou wilt vndertake +A thing like death to chide away this shame, +That coap'st with death himselfe, to scape fro it: +And if thou dar'st, Ile giue thee remedie + + Iul. Oh bid me leape, rather then marrie Paris, +From of the Battlements of any Tower, +Or walke in theeuish waies, or bid me lurke +Where Serpents are: chaine me with roaring Beares +Or hide me nightly in a Charnell house, +Orecouered quite with dead mens ratling bones, +With reckie shankes and yellow chappels sculls: +Or bid me go into a new made graue, +And hide me with a dead man in his graue, +Things that to heare them told, haue made me tremble, +And I will doe it without feare or doubt, +To liue an vnstained wife to my sweet Loue + + Fri. Hold then: goe home, be merrie, giue consent, +To marrie Paris: wensday is to morrow, +To morrow night looke that thou lie alone, +Let not thy Nurse lie with thee in thy Chamber: +Take thou this Violl being then in bed, +And this distilling liquor drinke thou off, +When presently through all thy veines shall run, +A cold and drowsie humour: for no pulse +Shall keepe his natiue progresse, but surcease: +No warmth, no breath shall testifie thou liuest, +The Roses in thy lips and cheekes shall fade +To many ashes, the eyes windowes fall +Like death when he shut vp the day of life: +Each part depriu'd of supple gouernment, +Shall stiffe and starke, and cold appeare like death, +And in this borrowed likenesse of shrunke death +Thou shalt continue two and forty houres, +And then awake, as from a pleasant sleepe. +Now when the Bridegroome in the morning comes, +To rowse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead: +Then as the manner of our country is, +In thy best Robes vncouer'd on the Beere, +Be borne to buriall in thy kindreds graue: +Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault, +Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie, +In the meane time against thou shalt awake, +Shall Romeo by my Letters know our drift, +And hither shall he come, and that very night +Shall Romeo beare thee hence to Mantua. +And this shall free thee from this present shame, +If no inconstant toy nor womanish feare, +Abate thy valour in the acting it + + Iul. Giue me, giue me, O tell me not of care + + Fri. Hold get you gone, be strong and prosperous: +In this resolue, Ile send a Frier with speed +To Mantua with my Letters to thy Lord + + Iu. Loue giue me strength, +And the strength shall helpe afford: +Farewell deare father. + +Exit + +Enter Father Capulet, Mother, Nurse, and Seruing men, two or +three. + + Cap. So many guests inuite as here are writ, +Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning Cookes + + Ser. You shall haue none ill sir, for Ile trie if they can +licke their fingers + + Cap. How canst thou trie them so? + Ser. Marrie sir, 'tis an ill Cooke that cannot licke his +owne fingers: therefore he that cannot licke his fingers +goes not with me + + Cap. Go be gone, we shall be much vnfurnisht for this +time: what is my Daughter gone to Frier Lawrence? + Nur. I forsooth + + Cap. Well he may chance to do some good on her, +A peeuish selfe-wild harlotry it is. +Enter Iuliet. + + Nur. See where she comes from shrift +With merrie looke + + Cap. How now my headstrong, +Where haue you bin gadding? + Iul. Where I haue learnt me to repent the sin +Of disobedient opposition: +To you and your behests, and am enioyn'd +By holy Lawrence, to fall prostrate here, +To beg your pardon: pardon I beseech you, +Henceforward I am euer rul'd by you + + Cap. Send for the Countie, goe tell him of this, +Ile haue this knot knit vp to morrow morning + + Iul. I met the youthfull Lord at Lawrence Cell, +And gaue him what becomed Loue I might, +Not stepping ore the bounds of modestie + + Cap. Why I am glad on't, this is well, stand vp, +This is as't should be, let me see the County: +I marrie go I say, and fetch him hither. +Now afore God, this reueren'd holy Frier, +All our whole Cittie is much bound to him + + Iul. Nurse will you goe with me into my Closet, +To helpe me sort such needfull ornaments, +As you thinke fit to furnish me to morrow? + Mo. No not till Thursday, there's time inough + + Fa. Go Nurse, go with her, +Weele to Church to morrow. + +Exeunt. Iuliet and Nurse. + + Mo. We shall be short in our prouision, +'Tis now neere night + + Fa. Tush, I will stirre about, +And all things shall be well, I warrant thee wife: +Go thou to Iuliet, helpe to decke vp her, +Ile not to bed to night, let me alone: +Ile play the huswife for this once. What ho? +They are all forth, well I will walke my selfe +To Countie Paris, to prepare him vp +Against to morrow, my heart is wondrous light, +Since this same way-ward Gyrle is so reclaim'd. + +Exeunt. Father and Mother. + +Enter Iuliet and Nurse. + + Iul. I those attires are best, but gentle Nurse +I pray thee leaue me to my selfe to night: +For I haue need of many Orysons, +To moue the heauens to smile vpon my state, +Which well thou know'st, is crosse and full of sin. +Enter Mother. + + Mo. What are you busie ho? need you my help? + Iul. No Madam, we haue cul'd such necessaries +As are behoouefull for our state to morrow: +So please you, let me now be left alone; +And let the Nurse this night sit vp with you, +For I am sure, you haue your hands full all, +In this so sudden businesse + + Mo. Goodnight. +Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need. + +Exeunt. + + Iul. Farewell: +God knowes when we shall meete againe. +I haue a faint cold feare thrills through my veines, +That almost freezes vp the heate of fire: +Ile call them backe againe to comfort me. +Nurse, what should she do here? +My dismall Sceane, I needs must act alone: +Come Viall, what if this mixture do not worke at all? +Shall I be married then to morrow morning? +No, no, this shall forbid it. Lie thou there, +What if it be a poyson which the Frier +Subtilly hath ministred to haue me dead, +Least in this marriage he should be dishonour'd, +Because he married me before to Romeo? +I feare it is, and yet me thinkes it should not, +For he hath still beene tried a holy man. +How, if when I am laid into the Tombe, +I wake before the time that Romeo +Come to redeeme me? There's a fearefull point: +Shall I not then be stifled in the Vault? +To whose foule mouth no healthsome ayre breaths in, +And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes. +Or if I liue, is it not very like, +The horrible conceit of death and night, +Together with the terror of the place, +As in a Vaulte, an ancient receptacle, +Where for these many hundred yeeres the bones +Of all my buried Auncestors are packt, +Where bloody Tybalt, yet but greene in earth, +Lies festring in his shrow'd, where as they say, +At some houres in the night, Spirits resort: +Alacke, alacke, is it not like that I +So early waking, what with loathsome smels, +And shrikes like Mandrakes torne out of the earth, +That liuing mortalls hearing them, run mad. +O if I wake, shall I not be distraught, +Inuironed with all these hidious feares, +And madly play with my forefathers ioynts? +And plucke the mangled Tybalt from his shrow'd? +And in this rage, with some great kinsmans bone, +As (with a club) dash out my desperate braines. +O looke, me thinks I see my Cozins Ghost, +Seeking out Romeo that did spit his body +Vpon my Rapiers point: stay Tybalt, stay; +Romeo, Romeo, Romeo, here's drinke: I drinke to thee. +Enter Lady of the house, and Nurse. + + Lady. Hold, +Take these keies, and fetch more spices Nurse + + Nur. They call for Dates and Quinces in the Pastrie. +Enter old Capulet. + + Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir, +The second Cocke hath Crow'd, +The Curphew Bell hath rung, 'tis three a clocke: +Looke to the bakte meates, good Angelica, +Spare not for cost + + Nur. Go you Cot-queane, go, +Get you to bed, faith youle be sicke to morrow +For this nights watching + + Cap. No not a whit: what? I haue watcht ere now +All night for lesse cause, and nere beene sicke + + La. I you haue bin a Mouse-hunt in your time, +But I will watch you from such watching now. + +Exit Lady and Nurse. + + Cap. A iealous hood, a iealous hood, +Now fellow, what there? +Enter three or foure with spits, and logs, and baskets. + + Fel. Things for the Cooke sir, but I know not what + + Cap. Make hast, make hast, sirrah, fetch drier Logs. +Call Peter, he will shew thee where they are + + Fel. I haue a head sir, that will find out logs, +And neuer trouble Peter for the matter + + Cap. Masse and well said, a merrie horson, ha, +Thou shalt be loggerhead; good Father, 'tis day. + +Play Musicke + +The Countie will be here with Musicke straight, +For so he said he would, I heare him neere, +Nurse, wife, what ho? what Nurse I say? +Enter Nurse. + +Go waken Iuliet, go and trim her vp, +Ile go and chat with Paris: hie, make hast, +Make hast, the Bridegroome, he is come already: +Make hast I say + + Nur. Mistris, what Mistris? Iuliet? Fast I warrant her she. +Why Lambe, why Lady? fie you sluggabed, +Why Loue I say? Madam, sweet heart: why Bride? +What not a word? You take your peniworths now. +Sleepe for a weeke, for the next night I warrant +The Countie Paris hath set vp his rest, +That you shall rest but little, God forgiue me: +Marrie and Amen: how sound is she a sleepe? +I must needs wake her: Madam, Madam, Madam, +I, let the Countie take you in your bed, +Heele fright you vp yfaith. Will it not be? +What drest, and in your clothes, and downe againe? +I must needs wake you: Lady, Lady, Lady? +Alas, alas, helpe, helpe, my Ladyes dead, +Oh weladay, that euer I was borne, +Some Aqua-vitć ho, my Lord, my Lady? + Mo. What noise is heere? +Enter Mother. + + Nur. O lamentable day + + Mo. What is the matter? + Nur. Looke, looke, oh heauie day + + Mo. O me, O me, my Child, my onely life: +Reuiue, looke vp, or I will die with thee: +Helpe, helpe, call helpe. +Enter Father. + + Fa. For shame bring Iuliet forth, her Lord is come + + Nur. Shee's dead: deceast, shee's dead: alacke the day + + M. Alacke the day, shee's dead, shee's dead, shee's dead + + Fa. Ha? Let me see her: out alas shee's cold, +Her blood is setled and her ioynts are stiffe: +Life and these lips haue long bene seperated: +Death lies on her like an vntimely frost +Vpon the swetest flower of all the field + + Nur. O Lamentable day! + Mo. O wofull time + + Fa. Death that hath tane her hence to make me waile, +Ties vp my tongue, and will not let me speake. +Enter Frier and the Countie. + + Fri. Come, is the Bride ready to go to Church? + Fa. Ready to go, but neuer to returne. +O Sonne, the night before thy wedding day, +Hath death laine with thy wife: there she lies, +Flower as she was, deflowred by him. +Death is my Sonne in law, death is my Heire, +My Daughter he hath wedded. I will die, +And leaue him all life liuing, all is deaths + + Pa. Haue I thought long to see this mornings face, +And doth it giue me such a sight as this? + Mo. Accur'st, vnhappie, wretched hatefull day, +Most miserable houre, that ere time saw +In lasting labour of his Pilgrimage. +But one, poore one, one poore and louing Child, +But one thing to reioyce and solace in, +And cruell death hath catcht it from my sight + + Nur. O wo, O wofull, wofull, wofull day, +Most lamentable day, most wofull day, +That euer, euer, I did yet behold. +O day, O day, O day, O hatefull day, +Neuer was seene so blacke a day as this: +O wofull day, O wofull day + + Pa. Beguild, diuorced, wronged, spighted, slaine, +Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd, +By cruell, cruell thee, quite ouerthrowne: +O loue, O life; not life, but loue in death + + Fat. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martir'd, kil'd, +Vncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now +To murther, murther our solemnitie? +O Child, O Child; my soule, and not my Child, +Dead art thou, alacke my Child is dead, +And with my Child, my ioyes are buried + + Fri. Peace ho for shame, confusions: Care liues not +In these confusions, heauen and your selfe +Had part in this faire Maid, now heauen hath all, +And all the better is it for the Maid: +Your part in her, you could not keepe from death, +But heauen keepes his part in eternall life: +The most you sought was her promotion, +For 'twas your heauen, she shouldst be aduan'st, +And weepe ye now, seeing she is aduan'st +Aboue the Cloudes, as high as Heauen it selfe? +O in this loue, you loue your Child so ill, +That you run mad, seeing that she is well: +Shee's not well married, that liues married long, +But shee's best married, that dies married yong. +Drie vp your teares, and sticke your Rosemarie +On this faire Coarse, and as the custome is, +And in her best array beare her to Church: +For though some Nature bids all vs lament, +Yet Natures teares are Reasons merriment + + Fa. All things that we ordained Festiuall, +Turne from their office to blacke Funerall: +Our instruments to melancholy Bells, +Our wedding cheare, to a sad buriall Feast: +Our solemne Hymnes, to sullen Dyrges change: +Our Bridall flowers serue for a buried Coarse: +And all things change them to the contrarie + + Fri. Sir go you in; and Madam, go with him, +And go sir Paris, euery one prepare +To follow this faire Coarse vnto her graue: +The heauens do lowre vpon you, for some ill: +Moue them no more, by crossing their high will. + +Exeunt. + + Mu. Faith we may put vp our Pipes and be gone + + Nur. Honest goodfellowes: Ah put vp, put vp, +For well you know, this is a pitifull case + + Mu. I by my troth, the case may be amended. +Enter Peter. + + Pet. Musitions, oh Musitions, +Hearts ease, hearts ease, +O, and you will haue me liue, play hearts ease + + Mu. Why hearts ease; + Pet. O Musitions, +Because my heart it selfe plaies, my heart is full + + Mu. Not a dump we, 'tis no time to play now + + Pet. You will not then? + Mu. No + + Pet. I will then giue it you soundly + + Mu. What will you giue vs? + Pet. No money on my faith, but the gleeke. +I will giue you the Minstrell + + Mu. Then will I giue you the Seruing creature + + Peter. Then will I lay the seruing Creatures Dagger +on your pate. I will carie no Crochets, Ile Re you, Ile Fa +you, do you note me? + Mu. And you Re vs, and Fa vs, you Note vs + + 2.M. Pray you put vp your Dagger, +And put out your wit. +Then haue at you with my wit + + Peter. I will drie-beate you with an yron wit, +And put vp my yron Dagger. +Answere me like men: +When griping griefes the heart doth wound, then Musicke +with her siluer sound. +Why siluer sound? why Musicke with her siluer sound? +what say you Simon Catling? + Mu. Mary sir, because siluer hath a sweet sound + + Pet. Pratest, what say you Hugh Rebicke? + 2.M. I say siluer sound, because Musitions sound for siluer + Pet. Pratest to, what say you Iames Sound-Post? + 3.Mu. Faith I know not what to say + + Pet. O I cry you mercy, you are the Singer. +I will say for you; it is Musicke with her siluer sound, +Because Musitions haue no gold for sounding: +Then Musicke with her siluer sound, with speedy helpe +doth lend redresse. +Enter. + + Mu. What a pestilent knaue is this same? + M.2. Hang him Iacke, come weele in here, tarrie for +the Mourners, and stay dinner. +Enter. + +Enter Romeo. + + Rom. If I may trust the flattering truth of sleepe, +My dreames presage some ioyfull newes at hand: +My bosomes L[ord]. sits lightly in his throne: +And all this day an vnaccustom'd spirit, +Lifts me aboue the ground with cheerefull thoughts. +I dreamt my Lady came and found me dead, +(Strange dreame that giues a dead man leaue to thinke,) +And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips, +That I reuiu'd and was an Emperour. +Ah me, how sweet is loue it selfe possest, +When but loues shadowes are so rich in ioy. +Enter Romeo's man. + +Newes from Verona, how now Balthazer? +Dost thou not bring me Letters from the Frier? +How doth my Lady? Is my Father well? +How doth my Lady Iuliet? that I aske againe, +For nothing can be ill, is she be well + + Man. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill. +Her body sleepes in Capels Monument, +And her immortall part with Angels liue, +I saw her laid low in her kindreds Vault, +And presently tooke Poste to tell it you: +O pardon me for bringing these ill newes, +Since you did leaue it for my office Sir + + Rom. Is it euen so? +Then I denie you Starres. +Thou knowest my lodging, get me inke and paper, +And hire Post-Horses, I will hence to night + + Man. I do beseech you sir, haue patience: +Your lookes are pale and wild, and do import +Some misaduenture + + Rom. Tush, thou art deceiu'd, +Leaue me, and do the thing I bid thee do. +Hast thou no Letters to me from the Frier? + Man. No my good Lord. + +Exit Man. + + Rom. No matter: Get thee gone, +And hyre those Horses, Ile be with thee straight, +Well Iuliet, I will lie with thee to night: +Lets see for meanes, O mischiefe thou art swift, +To enter in the thoughts of desperate men: +I do remember an Appothecarie, +And here abouts dwells, which late I noted +In tattred weeds, with ouerwhelming browes, +Culling of Simples, meager were his lookes, +Sharp miserie had worne him to the bones: +And in his needie shop a Tortoyrs hung, +An Allegater stuft, and other skins +Of ill shap'd fishes, and about his shelues, +A beggerly account of emptie boxes , +Greene earthen pots, Bladders, and mustie seedes, +Remnants of packthred, and old cakes of Roses +Were thinly scattered, to make vp a shew. +Noting this penury, to my selfe I said, +An if a man did need a poyson now, +Whose sale is present death in Mantua, +Here liues a Caitiffe wretch would sell it him. +O this same thought did but fore-run my need, +And this same needie man must sell it me. +As I remember, this should be the house, +Being holy day, the beggers shop is shut. +What ho? Appothecarie? +Enter Appothecarie. + + App. Who call's so low'd? + Rom. Come hither man, I see that thou art poore, +Hold, there is fortie Duckets, let me haue +A dram of poyson, such soone speeding geare, +As will disperse it selfe through all the veines, +That the life-wearie-taker may fall dead, +And that the Trunke may be discharg'd of breath, +As violently, as hastie powder fier'd +Doth hurry from the fatall Canons wombe + + App. Such mortall drugs I haue, but Mantuas law +Is death to any he, that vtters them + + Rom. Art thou so bare and full of wretchednesse, +And fear'st to die? Famine is in thy cheekes, +Need and opression starueth in thy eyes, +Contempt and beggery hangs vpon thy backe: +The world is not thy friend, nor the worlds law: +The world affords no law to make thee rich. +Then be not poore, but breake it, and take this + + App. My pouerty, but not my will consents + + Rom. I pray thy pouerty, and not thy will + + App. Put this in any liquid thing you will +And drinke it off, and if you had the strength +Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight + + Rom. There's thy Gold, +Worse poyson to mens soules, +Doing more murther in this loathsome world, +Then these poore compounds that thou maiest not sell. +I sell thee poyson, thou hast sold me none, +Farewell, buy food, and get thy selfe in flesh. +Come Cordiall, and not poyson, go with me +To Iuliets graue, for there must I vse thee. + +Exeunt. + +Enter Frier Iohn to Frier Lawrence. + + Iohn. Holy Franciscan Frier, Brother, ho? +Enter Frier Lawrence. + + Law. This same should be the voice of Frier Iohn. +Welcome from Mantua, what sayes Romeo? +Or if his mind be writ, giue me his Letter + + Iohn. Going to find a bare-foote Brother out, +One of our order to associate me, +Here in this Citie visiting the sick, +And finding him, the Searchers of the Towne +Suspecting that we both were in a house +Where the infectious pestilence did raigne, +Seal'd vp the doores, and would not let vs forth, +So that my speed to Mantua there was staid + + Law. Who bare my Letter then to Romeo? + Iohn. I could not send it, here it is againe, +Nor get a messenger to bring it thee, +So fearefull were they of infection + + Law. Vnhappie Fortune: by my Brotherhood +The Letter was not nice; but full of charge, +Of deare import; and the neglecting it +May do much danger: Frier Iohn go hence, +Get me an Iron Crow, and bring it straight +Vnto my Cell + + Iohn. Brother Ile go and bring it thee. +Enter. + + Law. Now must I to the Monument alone, +Within this three houres will faire Iuliet wake, +Shee will beshrew me much that Romeo +Hath had no notice of these accidents: +But I will write againe to Mantua, +And keepe her at my Cell till Romeo come, +Poore liuing Coarse, clos'd in a dead mans Tombe, +Enter. + +Enter Paris and his Page. + + Par. Giue me thy Torch Boy, hence and stand aloft, +Yet put it out, for I would not be seene: +Vnder yond young Trees lay thee all along, +Holding thy eare close to the hollow ground, +So shall no foot vpon the Churchyard tread, +Being loose, vnfirme with digging vp of Graues, +But thou shalt heare it: whistle then to me, +As signall that thou hearest some thing approach, +Giue me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go + + Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone +Here in the Churchyard, yet I will aduenture + + Pa. Sweet Flower with flowers thy Bridall bed I strew: +O woe, thy Canopie is dust and stones, +Which with sweet water nightly I will dewe, +Or wanting that, with teares destil'd by mones; +The obsequies that I for thee will keepe, +Nightly shall be, to strew thy graue, and weepe. + +Whistle Boy. + +The Boy giues warning, something doth approach, +What cursed foot wanders this wayes to night, +To crosse my obsequies, and true loues right? +What with a Torch? Muffle me night a while. +Enter Romeo, and Peter. + + Rom. Giue me that Mattocke, & the wrenching Iron, +Hold take this Letter, early in the morning +See thou deliuer it to my Lord and Father, +Giue me the light; vpon thy life I charge thee, +What ere thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloofe, +And do not interrupt me in my course. +Why I descend into this bed of death, +Is partly to behold my Ladies face: +But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger, +A precious Ring, a Ring that I must vse, +In deare employment, therefore hence be gone: +But if thou iealous dost returne to prie +In what I further shall intend to do, +By heauen I will teare thee ioynt by ioynt, +And strew this hungry Churchyard with thy limbs: +The time, and my intents are sauage wilde: +More fierce and more inexorable farre, +Them emptie Tygers, or the roaring Sea + + Pet. I will be gone sir, and not trouble you + Ro. So shalt thou shew me friendship: take thou that, +Liue and be prosperous, and farewell good fellow + + Pet. For all this same, Ile hide me here about, +His lookes I feare, and his intents I doubt + + Rom. Thou detestable mawe, thou wombe of death, +Gorg'd with the dearest morsell of the earth: +Thus I enforce thy rotten Iawes to open, +And in despight, Ile cram thee with more food + + Par. This is that banisht haughtie Mountague, +That murdred my Loues Cozin; with which griefe, +It is supposed the faire Creature died, +And here is come to do some villanous shame +To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him. +Stop thy vnhallowed toyle, vile Mountague: +Can vengeance be pursued further then death? +Condemned villaine, I do apprehend thee. +Obey and go with me, for thou must die, + Rom. I must indeed, and therfore came I hither: +Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man, +Flie hence and leaue me, thinke vpon those gone, +Let them affright thee. I beseech thee Youth, +Put not an other sin vpon my head, +By vrging me to furie. O be gone, +By heauen I loue thee better then my selfe, +For I come hither arm'd against my selfe: +Stay not, be gone, liue, and hereafter say, +A mad mans mercy bid thee run away + + Par. I do defie thy commisseration, +And apprehend thee for a Fellon here + + Ro. Wilt thou prouoke me? Then haue at thee Boy + + Pet. O Lord they fight, I will go call the Watch + + Pa. O I am slaine, if thou be mercifull, +Open the Tombe, lay me with Iuliet + + Rom. In faith I will, let me peruse this face: +Mercutius kinsman, Noble Countie Paris, +What said my man, when my betossed soule +Did not attend him as we rode? I thinke +He told me Paris should haue married Iuliet. +Said he not so? Or did I dreame it so? +Or am I mad, hearing him talke of Iuliet, +To thinke it was so? O giue me thy hand, +One, writ with me in sowre misfortunes booke. +Ile burie thee in a triumphant graue. +A Graue; O no, a Lanthorne; slaughtred Youth: +For here lies Iuliet, and her beautie makes +This Vault a feasting presence full of light. +Death lie thou there, by a dead man inter'd, +How oft when men are at the point of death, +Haue they beene merrie? Which their Keepers call +A lightning before death? Oh how may I +Call this a lightning? O my Loue, my Wife, +Death that hath suckt the honey of thy breath, +Hath had no power yet vpon thy Beautie: +Thou are not conquer'd: Beauties ensigne yet +Is Crymson in thy lips, and in thy cheekes, +And Deaths pale flag is not aduanced there. +Tybalt, ly'st thou there in thy bloudy sheet? +O what more fauour can I do to thee, +Then with that hand that cut thy youth in twaine, +To sunder his that was thy enemie? +Forgiue me Cozen. Ah deare Iuliet: +Why art thou yet so faire? I will beleeue, +Shall I beleeue, that vnsubstantiall death is amorous? +And that the leane abhorred Monster keepes +Thee here in darke to be his Paramour? +For feare of that, I still will stay with thee, +And neuer from this Pallace of dym night +Depart againe: come lie thou in my armes, +Heere's to thy health, where ere thou tumblest in. +O true Appothecarie! +Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kisse I die. +Depart againe; here, here will I remaine, +With Wormes that are thy Chambermaides: O here +Will I set vp my euerlasting rest: +And shake the yoke of inauspicious starres +From this world-wearied flesh: Eyes looke your last: +Armes take your last embrace: And lips, O you +The doores of breath, seale with a righteous kisse +A datelesse bargaine to ingrossing death: +Come bitter conduct, come vnsauory guide, +Thou desperate Pilot, now at once run on +The dashing Rocks, thy Sea-sicke wearie Barke: +Heere's to my Loue. O true Appothecary: +Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kisse I die. +Enter Frier with a Lanthorne, Crow, and Spade. + + Fri. St. Francis be my speed, how oft to night +Haue my old feet stumbled at graues? Who's there? + Man. Here's one, a Friend, & one that knowes you well + + Fri. Blisse be vpon you. Tell me good my Friend +What Torch is yond that vainely lends his light +To grubs, and eyelesse Sculles? As I discerne, +It burneth in the Capels Monument + + Man. It doth so holy sir, +And there's my Master, one that you loue + + Fri. Who is it? + Man. Romeo + + Fri. How long hath he bin there? + Man. Full halfe an houre + + Fri. Go with me to the Vault + + Man. I dare not Sir. +My Master knowes not but I am gone hence, +And fearefully did menace me with death, +If I did stay to looke on his entents + + Fri. Stay, then Ile go alone, feares comes vpon me. +O much I feare some ill vnluckie thing + + Man. As I did sleepe vnder this young tree here, +I dreamt my maister and another fought, +And that my Maister slew him + + Fri. Romeo. +Alacke, alacke, what blood is this which staines +The stony entrance of this Sepulcher? +What meane these Masterlesse, and goarie Swords +To lie discolour'd by this place of peace? +Romeo, oh pale: who else? what Paris too? +And steept in blood? Ah what an vnkind houre +Is guiltie of this lamentable chance? +The Lady stirs + + Iul. O comfortable Frier, where's my Lord? +I do remember well where I should be: +And there I am, where is my Romeo? + Fri. I heare some noyse Lady, come from that nest +Of death, contagion, and vnnaturall sleepe, +A greater power then we can contradict +Hath thwarted our entents, come, come away, +Thy husband in thy bosome there lies dead: +And Paris too: come Ile dispose of thee, +Among a Sisterhood of holy Nunnes: +Stay not to question, for the watch is comming. +Come, go good Iuliet, I dare no longer stay. +Enter. + + Iul. Go get thee hence, for I will not away, +What's here, A cup clos'd in my true loues hand? +Poyson I see hath bin his timelesse end +O churle, drinke all? and left no friendly drop, +To helpe me after, I will kisse thy lips, +Happlie some poyson yet doth hang on them, +To make me die with a restoratiue. +Thy lips are warme. +Enter Boy and Watch. + + Watch. Lead Boy, which way? + Iul. Yea noise? +Then ile be briefe. O happy Dagger. +'Tis in thy sheath, there rust and let me die. + +Kils herselfe. + + Boy. This is the place, +There where the Torch doth burne + Watch. The ground is bloody, +Search about the Churchyard. +Go some of you, who ere you find attach. +Pittifull sight, here lies the Countie slaine, +And Iuliet bleeding, warme and newly dead +Who here hath laine these two dayes buried. +Go tell the Prince, runne to the Capulets, +Raise vp the Mountagues, some others search, +We see the ground whereon these woes do lye, +But the true ground of all these piteous woes, +We cannot without circumstance descry. +Enter Romeo's man. + + Watch. Here's Romeo's man, +We found him in the Churchyard + + Con. Hold him in safety, till the Prince come hither. +Enter Frier, and another Watchman. + + 3.Wat. Here is a Frier that trembles, sighes, and weepes +We tooke this Mattocke and this Spade from him, +As he was comming from this Church-yard side + + Con. A great suspition, stay the Frier too. +Enter the Prince. + + Prin. What misaduenture is so earely vp, +That calls our person from our mornings rest? +Enter Capulet and his Wife. + + Cap. What should it be that they so shrike abroad? + Wife. O the people in the streete crie Romeo. +Some Iuliet, and some Paris, and all runne +With open outcry toward our Monument + + Pri. What feare is this which startles in your eares? + Wat. Soueraigne, here lies the Countie Paris slaine, +And Romeo dead, and Iuliet dead before, +Warme and new kil'd + + Prin. Search, +Seeke, and know how, this foule murder comes + + Wat. Here is a Frier, and Slaughter'd Romeos man, +With Instruments vpon them fit to open +These dead mens Tombes + + Cap. O heauen! +O wife looke how our Daughter bleedes! +This Dagger hath mistaine, for loe his house +Is empty on the backe of Mountague, +And is misheathed in my Daughters bosome + + Wife. O me, this sight of death, is as a Bell +That warnes my old age to a Sepulcher. +Enter Mountague. + + Pri. Come Mountague, for thou art early vp +To see thy Sonne and Heire, now early downe + + Moun. Alas my liege, my wife is dead to night, +Griefe of my Sonnes exile hath stopt her breath: +What further woe conspires against my age? + Prin. Looke: and thou shalt see + + Moun. O thou vntaught, what manners is in this, +To presse before thy Father to a graue? + Prin. Seale vp the mouth of outrage for a while, +Till we can cleare these ambiguities, +And know their spring, their head, their true descent, +And then I will be generall of your woes, +And lead you euen to death? meane time forbeare, +And let mischance be slaue to patience, +Bring forth the parties of suspition + + Fri. I am the greatest, able to doe least, +Yet most suspected as the time and place +Doth make against me of this direfull murther: +And heere I stand both to impeach and purge +My selfe condemned, and my selfe excus'd + + Prin. Then say at once, what thou dost know in this? + Fri. I will be briefe, for my short date of breath +Is not so long as is a tedious tale. +Romeo there dead, was husband to that Iuliet, +And she there dead, that's Romeos faithfull wife: +I married them; and their stolne marriage day +Was Tybalts Doomesday: whose vntimely death +Banish'd the new-made Bridegroome from this Citie: +For whom (and not for Tybalt) Iuliet pinde. +You, to remoue that siege of Greefe from her, +Betroth'd, and would haue married her perforce +To Countie Paris. Then comes she to me, +And (with wilde lookes) bid me deuise some meanes +To rid her from this second Marriage, +Or in my Cell there would she kill her selfe. +Then gaue I her (so Tutor'd by my Art) +A sleeping Potion, which so tooke effect +As I intended, for it wrought on her +The forme of death. Meane time, I writ to Romeo, +That he should hither come, as this dyre night, +To helpe to take her from her borrowed graue, +Being the time the Potions force should cease. +But he which bore my Letter, Frier Iohn, +Was stay'd by accident; and yesternight +Return'd my Letter backe. Then all alone, +At the prefixed houre of her waking, +Came I to take her from her Kindreds vault, +Meaning to keepe her closely at my Cell, +Till I conueniently could send to Romeo. +But when I came (some Minute ere the time +Of her awaking) heere vntimely lay +The Noble Paris, and true Romeo dead. +Shee wakes, and I intreated her come foorth, +And beare this worke of Heauen, with patience: +But then, a noyse did scarre me from the Tombe, +And she (too desperate) would not go with me, +But (as it seemes) did violence on her selfe. +All this I know, and to the Marriage her Nurse is priuy: +And if ought in this miscarried by my fault, +Let my old life be sacrific'd, some houre before the time, +Vnto the rigour of seuerest Law + + Prin. We still haue knowne thee for a Holy man. +Where's Romeo's man? What can he say to this? + Boy. I brought my Master newes of Iuliets death, +And then in poste he came from Mantua +To this same place, to this same Monument. +This Letter he early bid me giue his Father, +And threatned me with death, going in the Vault, +If I departed not, and left him there + + Prin. Giue me the Letter, I will look on it. +Where is the Counties Page that rais'd the Watch? +Sirra, what made your Master in this place? + Page. He came with flowres to strew his Ladies graue, +And bid me stand aloofe, and so I did: +Anon comes one with light to ope the Tombe, +And by and by my Maister drew on him, +And then I ran away to call the Watch + + Prin. This Letter doth make good the Friers words, +Their course of Loue, the tydings of her death: +And heere he writes, that he did buy a poyson +Of a poore Pothecarie, and therewithall +Came to this Vault to dye, and lye with Iuliet. +Where be these Enemies? Capulet, Mountague, +See what a scourge is laide vpon your hate, +That Heauen finds meanes to kill your ioyes with Loue; +And I, for winking at your discords too, +Haue lost a brace of Kinsmen: All are punish'd + + Cap. O Brother Mountague, giue me thy hand, +This is my Daughters ioynture, for no more +Can I demand + + Moun. But I can giue thee more: +For I will raise her Statue in pure Gold, +That whiles Verona by that name is knowne, +There shall no figure at that Rate be set, +As that of True and Faithfull Iuliet + + Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his Lady ly, +Poore sacrifices of our enmity + + Prin. A glooming peace this morning with it brings, +The Sunne for sorrow will not shew his head; +Go hence, to haue more talke of these sad things, +Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished. +For neuer was a Storie of more Wo, +Then this of Iuliet, and her Romeo. + +Exeunt. omnes + +FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF ROMEO and IVLIET diff --git a/examples/wordcount/works/senseandsensibility.txt b/examples/wordcount/works/senseandsensibility.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d485ef4 --- /dev/null +++ b/examples/wordcount/works/senseandsensibility.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13654 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sense and Sensibility, by Jane Austen + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sense and Sensibility + +Author: Jane Austen + +Commentator: Austin Dobson + +Illustrator: Hugh Thomson + +Release Date: June 15, 2007 [EBook #21839] +[Last updated: February 11, 2015] + +Language: English + + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SENSE AND SENSIBILITY *** + + + + +Produced by Fritz Ohrenschall and Sankar Viswanathan (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + +The Table of Contents is not part of the original book. The illustration +on page 290 is missing from the book. The Introduction ends abruptly. +Seems incomplete. + + + [Illustration: _Mr. Dashwood introduced him._--P. 219.] + + + + SENSE & SENSIBILITY + + + + BY + + JANE AUSTEN + + + + WITH AN INTRODUCTION + + + BY + + AUSTIN DOBSON + + + + ILLUSTRATED + + + BY + + HUGH THOMSON + + + + + + + LONDON: MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED + + NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + + 1902 + + + + _First Edition with Hugh Thomson's Illustrations_ 1896 + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +INTRODUCTION +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS +CHAPTER I +CHAPTER II +CHAPTER III +CHAPTER IV +CHAPTER V +CHAPTER VI +CHAPTER VII +CHAPTER VIII +CHAPTER IX +CHAPTER X +CHAPTER XI +CHAPTER XII +CHAPTER XIII +CHAPTER XIV +CHAPTER XV +CHAPTER XVI +CHAPTER XVII +CHAPTER XVIII +CHAPTER XIX +CHAPTER XX +CHAPTER XXI +CHAPTER XXII +CHAPTER XXIII +CHAPTER XXIV +CHAPTER XXV +CHAPTER XXVI +CHAPTER XXVII +CHAPTER XXVIII +CHAPTER XXIX +CHAPTER XXX +CHAPTER XXXI +CHAPTER XXXII +CHAPTER XXXIII +CHAPTER XXXIV +CHAPTER XXXV +CHAPTER XXXVI +CHAPTER XXXVII +CHAPTER XXXVIII +CHAPTER XXXIX +CHAPTER XL +CHAPTER XLI +CHAPTER XLII +CHAPTER XLIII +CHAPTER XLIV +CHAPTER XLV +CHAPTER XLVI +CHAPTER XLVII +CHAPTER XLVIII +CHAPTER XLIX +CHAPTER L + + * * * * * + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +With the title of _Sense and Sensibility_ is connected one of those minor +problems which delight the cummin-splitters of criticism. In the _Cecilia_ +of Madame D'Arblay--the forerunner, if not the model, of Miss Austen--is a +sentence which at first sight suggests some relationship to the name of +the book which, in the present series, inaugurated Miss Austen's novels. +'The whole of this unfortunate business'--says a certain didactic Dr. +Lyster, talking in capitals, towards the end of volume three of +_Cecilia_--'has been the result of PRIDE and PREJUDICE,' and looking to +the admitted familiarity of Miss Austen with Madame D'Arblay's work, it +has been concluded that Miss Austen borrowed from _Cecilia_, the title of +her second novel. But here comes in the little problem to which we have +referred. _Pride and Prejudice_ it is true, was written and finished +before _Sense and Sensibility_--its original title for several years being +_First Impressions_. Then, in 1797, the author fell to work upon an older +essay in letters _à la_ Richardson, called _Elinor and Marianne_, which +she re-christened _Sense and Sensibility._ This, as we know, was her first +published book; and whatever may be the connection between the title of +_Pride and Prejudice_ and the passage in _Cecilia_, there is an obvious +connection between the title of _Pride and Prejudice_ and the _title of +Sense and Sensibility_. If Miss Austen re-christened _Elinor and +Marianne_ before she changed the title of _First Impressions_, as she well +may have, it is extremely unlikely that the name of _Pride and Prejudice_ +has anything to do with _Cecilia_ (which, besides, had been published at +least twenty years before). Upon the whole, therefore, it is most likely +that the passage in Madame D'Arblay is a mere coincidence; and that in +_Sense and Sensibility_, as well as in the novel that succeeded it in +publication, Miss Austen, after the fashion of the old morality plays, +simply substituted the leading characteristics of her principal personages +for their names. Indeed, in _Sense and Sensibility_ the sense of Elinor, +and the sensibility (or rather _sensiblerie_) of Marianne, are markedly +emphasised in the opening pages of the book But Miss Austen subsequently, +and, as we think, wisely, discarded in her remaining efforts the cheap +attraction of an alliterative title. _Emma_ and _Persuasion, Northanger +Abbey_ and _Mansfield Park_, are names far more in consonance with the +quiet tone of her easy and unobtrusive art. + +_Elinor and Marianne_ was originally written about 1792. After the +completion--or partial completion, for it was again revised in +1811--of _First Impressions_ (subsequently _Pride and Prejudice_), +Miss Austen set about recasting _Elinor and Marianne_, then composed +in the form of letters; and she had no sooner accomplished this task, +than she began _Northanger Abbey_. It would be interesting to know to +what extent she remodelled _Sense and Sensibility_ in 1797-98, for we +are told that previous to its publication in 1811 she again devoted a +considerable time to its preparation for the press, and it is clear +that this does not mean the correction of proofs alone, but also a +preliminary revision of MS. Especially would it be interesting if we +could ascertain whether any of its more finished passages, _e.g._ the +admirable conversation between the Miss Dashwoods and Willoughby in +chapter x., were the result of those fallow and apparently barren +years at Bath and Southampton, or whether they were already part of +the second version of 1797-98. But upon this matter the records are +mute. A careful examination of the correspondence published by Lord +Brabourne in 1884 only reveals two definite references to _Sense and +Sensibility_ and these are absolutely unfruitful in suggestion. In +April 1811 she speaks of having corrected two sheets of 'S and S,' +which she has scarcely a hope of getting out in the following June; +and in September, an extract from the diary of another member of the +family indirectly discloses the fact that the book had by that time +been published. This extract is a brief reference to a letter which +had been received from Cassandra Austen, begging her correspondent not +to mention that Aunt Jane wrote _Sense and Sensibility._ Beyond these +minute items of information, and the statement--already referred to in +the Introduction to _Pride and Prejudice_--that she considered herself +overpaid for the labour she had bestowed upon it, absolutely nothing +seems to have been preserved by her descendants respecting her first +printed effort. In the absence of particulars some of her critics have +fallen to speculate upon the reason which made her select it, and not +_Pride and Prejudice_, for her début; and they have, perhaps +naturally, found in the fact a fresh confirmation of that traditional +blindness of authors to their own best work, which is one of the +commonplaces of literary history. But this is to premise that she +_did_ regard it as her masterpiece, a fact which, apart from this +accident of priority of issue, is, as far as we are aware, nowhere +asserted. A simpler solution is probably that, of the three novels she +had written or sketched by 1811, _Pride and Prejudice_ was languishing +under the stigma of having been refused by one bookseller without the +formality of inspection, while _Northanger Abbey_ was lying _perdu_ in +another bookseller's drawer at Bath. In these circumstances it is +intelligible that she should turn to _Sense and Sensibility_, when, at +length--upon the occasion of a visit to her brother in London in the +spring of 1811--Mr. T. Egerton of the 'Military Library,' Whitehall, +dawned upon the horizon as a practicable publisher. + +By the time _Sense and Sensibility_ left the press, Miss Austen was +again domiciled at Chawton Cottage. For those accustomed to the +swarming reviews of our day, with their Babel of notices, it may seem +strange that there should be no record of the effect produced, seeing +that, as already stated, the book sold well enough to enable its +putter-forth to hand over to its author what Mr. Gargery, in _Great +Expectations_, would have described as 'a cool £150.' Surely Mr. +Egerton, who had visited Miss Austen at Sloane Street, must have later +conveyed to her some intelligence of the way in which her work had +been welcomed by the public. But if he did, it is no longer +discoverable. Mr. Austen Leigh, her first and best biographer, could +find no account either of the publication or of the author's feelings +thereupon. As far as it is possible to judge, the critical verdicts +she obtained were mainly derived from her own relatives and intimate +friends, and some of these latter--if one may trust a little anthology +which she herself collected, and from which Mr. Austen Leigh prints +extracts--must have been more often exasperating than sympathetic. The +long chorus of intelligent approval by which she was afterwards +greeted did not begin to be really audible before her death, and her +'fit audience' during her lifetime must have been emphatically 'few,' +Of two criticisms which came out in the _Quarterly_ early in the +century, she could only have seen one, that of 1815; the other, by +Archbishop Whately, the first which treated her in earnest, did not +appear until she had been three years dead. Dr. Whately deals mainly +with _Mansfield Park_ and _Persuasion_; his predecessor professed to +review _Emma_, though he also gives brief summaries of _Sense and +Sensibility_ and _Pride and Prejudice_. Mr. Austen Leigh, we think, +speaks too contemptuously of this initial notice of 1815. If, at +certain points, it is half-hearted and inadequate, it is still fairly +accurate in its recognition of Miss Austen's supreme merit, as +contrasted with her contemporaries--to wit, her skill in investing the +fortunes of ordinary characters and the narrative of common +occurrences with all the sustained excitement of romance. The Reviewer +points out very justly that this kind of work, 'being deprived of all +that, according to Bayes, goes "to elevate and surprise," must make +amends by displaying depth of knowledge and dexterity of execution.' +And in these qualities, even with such living competitors of her own +sex as Miss Edgeworth and Miss Brunton (whose _Self-control_ came out +in the same year as _Sense and Sensibility_), he does not scruple to +declare that 'Miss Austen stands almost alone.' If he omits to lay +stress upon her judgment, her nice sense of fitness, her restraint, +her fine irony, and the delicacy of her artistic touch, something must +be allowed for the hesitations and reservations which invariably beset +the critical pioneer. + +To contend, however, for a moment that the present volume is Miss +Austen's greatest, as it was her first published, novel, would be a +mere exercise in paradox. There are, who swear by _Persuasion_; there +are, who prefer _Emma_ and _Mansfield Park_; there is a large +contingent for _Pride and Prejudice_; and there is even a section +which advocates the pre-eminence of _Northanger Abbey_. But no one, as +far as we can remember, has ever put _Sense and Sensibility_ first, +nor can we believe that its author did so herself. And yet it is she +herself who has furnished the standard by which we judge it, and it is +by comparison with _Pride and Prejudice_, in which the leading +characters are also two sisters, that we assess and depress its merit. +The Elinor and Marianne of _Sense and Sensibility_ are only inferior +when they are contrasted with the Elizabeth and Jane of _Pride and +Prejudice_; and even then, it is probably because we personally like +the handsome and amiable Jane Bennet rather better than the obsolete +survival of the sentimental novel represented by Marianne Dashwood. +Darcy and Bingley again are much more 'likeable' (to use Lady +Queensberry's word) than the colourless Edward Ferrars and the +stiff-jointed Colonel Brandon. Yet it might not unfairly be contended +that there is more fidelity to what Mr. Thomas Hardy has termed +'life's little ironies' in Miss Austen's disposal of the two Miss +Dashwoods than there is in her disposal of the heroines of _Pride and +Prejudice_. Every one does not get a Bingley, or a Darcy (with a +park); but a good many sensible girls like Elinor pair off contentedly +with poor creatures like Edward Ferrars, while not a few enthusiasts +like Marianne decline at last upon middle-aged colonels with flannel +waistcoats. George Eliot, we fancy, would have held that the fates of +Elinor and Marianne were more probable than the fortunes of Jane and +Eliza Bennet. That, of the remaining characters, there is certainly +none to rival Mr. Bennet, or Lady Catherine de Bourgh, or the +ineffable Mr. Collins, of _Pride and Prejudice_, is true; but we +confess to a kindness for vulgar matchmaking Mrs. Jennings with her +still-room 'parmaceti for an inward bruise' in the shape of a glass of +old Constantia; and for the diluted Squire Western, Sir John +Middleton, whose horror of being alone carries him to the point of +rejoicing in the acquisition of _two_ to the population of London. +Excellent again are Mr. Palmer and his wife; excellent, in their +sordid veracity, the self-seeking figures of the Miss Steeles. But the +pearls of the book must be allowed to be that egregious amateur in +toothpick-cases, Mr. Robert Ferrars (with his excursus in chapter +xxxvi. on life in a cottage), and the admirably-matched Mr. and Mrs. +John Dashwood. Miss Austen herself has never done anything better than +the inimitable and oft-quoted chapter wherein is debated between the +last-named pair the momentous matter of the amount to be devoted to +Mrs. Dashwood and her daughters; while the suggestion in chapters +xxxiii. and xxxiv. that the owner of Norland was once within some +thousands of having to sell out at a loss, deserves to be remembered +with that other memorable escape of Sir Roger de Coverley's ancestor, +who was only not killed in the civil wars because 'he was sent out of +the field upon a private message, the day before the battle of +Worcester.' + +Of local colouring there is as little in _Sense and Sensibility_ as in +_Pride and Prejudice_. It is not unlikely that some memories of +Steventon may survive in Norland; and it may be noted that there is +actually a Barton Place to the north of Exeter, not far from Lord +Iddesleigh's well-known seat of Upton Pynes. It is scarcely possible, +also, not to believe that, in Mrs. Jennings's description of +Delaford--'a nice place, I can tell you; exactly what I call a nice +old-fashioned place, full of comforts and conveniences; quite shut in +with great garden walls that are covered with the best fruit-trees in +the country; and such a mulberry tree in one corner!'--Miss Austen had +in mind some real Hampshire or Devonshire country house. In any case, +it comes nearer a picture than what we usually get from her pen. 'Then +there is a dovecote, some delightful stew-ponds, and a very pretty +canal; and everything, in short, that one could wish for; and, +moreover, it is close to the church, and only a quarter of a mile +from the turnpike-road, so 'tis never dull, for if you only go and sit +up in an old yew arbour behind the house, you may see all the +carriages that pass along.' The last lines suggest those quaint +'gazebos' and alcoves, which, in the coaching days, were so often to +be found perched at the roadside, where one might sit and watch the +Dover or Canterbury stage go whirling by. Of genteel accomplishments +there is a touch In the 'landscape in coloured silks' which Charlotte +Palmer had worked at school (chap, xxvi.); and of old remedies for the +lost art of swooning, in the 'lavender drops' of chapter xxix. The +mention of a dance as a 'little hop' in chapter ix. reads like a +premature instance of middle Victorian slang. But nothing is new--even +in a novel--and 'hop,' in this sense, is at least as old as _Joseph +Andrews_. + + * * * * * + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +Mr. Dashwood introduced him _Frontispiece_ + +His son's son, a child of four years old + +"I cannot imagine how they will spend half of it" + +So shy before company + +They sang together + +He cut off a long lock of her hair + +"I have found you out in spite of all your tricks" + +Apparently In violent affliction + +Begging her to stop + +Came to take a survey of the guest + +"I declare they are quite charming" + +Mischievous tricks + +Drinking to her best affections + +Amiably bashful + +"I can answer for it," said Mrs. Jennings + +At that moment she first perceived him + +"How fond he was of it!" + +Offered him one of Folly's puppies + +A very smart beau + +Introduced to Mrs. Jennings + +Mrs. Jennings assured him directly that she should not stand +upon ceremony + +Mrs. Ferrars + +Drawing him a little aside + +In a whisper + +"You have heard, I suppose" + +Talking over the business + +"She put in the feather last night" + +Listening at the door + +Both gained considerable amusement + +"Of one thing I may assure you" + +Showing her child to the housekeeper + +The gardener's lamentations + +Opened a window-shutter + +"I entreat you to stay" + +"I was formally dismissed" + +"I have entered many a shop to avoid your sight" + +"And see how the children go on" + +"I suppose you know, ma'am, that Mr. Ferrars is married" + +It _was_ Edward + +"Everything in such respectable condition" + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The family of Dashwood had long been settled in Sussex. Their estate +was large, and their residence was at Norland Park, in the centre of +their property, where, for many generations, they had lived in so +respectable a manner as to engage the general good opinion of their +surrounding acquaintance. The late owner of this estate was a single +man, who lived to a very advanced age, and who for many years of his +life, had a constant companion and housekeeper in his sister. But her +death, which happened ten years before his own, produced a great +alteration in his home; for to supply her loss, he invited and +received into his house the family of his nephew Mr. Henry Dashwood, +the legal inheritor of the Norland estate, and the person to whom he +intended to bequeath it. In the society of his nephew and niece, and +their children, the old Gentleman's days were comfortably spent. His +attachment to them all increased. The constant attention of Mr. and +Mrs. Henry Dashwood to his wishes, which proceeded not merely from +interest, but from goodness of heart, gave him every degree of solid +comfort which his age could receive; and the cheerfulness of the +children added a relish to his existence. + +By a former marriage, Mr. Henry Dashwood had one son: by his present +lady, three daughters. The son, a steady respectable young man, was +amply provided for by the fortune of his mother, which had been large, +and half of which devolved on him on his coming of age. By his own +marriage, likewise, which happened soon afterwards, he added to his +wealth. To him therefore the succession to the Norland estate was not +so really important as to his sisters; for their fortune, independent +of what might arise to them from their father's inheriting that +property, could be but small. Their mother had nothing, and their +father only seven thousand pounds in his own disposal; for the +remaining moiety of his first wife's fortune was also secured to her +child, and he had only a life-interest in it. + +The old gentleman died: his will was read, and like almost every +other will, gave as much disappointment as pleasure. He was neither so +unjust, nor so ungrateful, as to leave his estate from his nephew; but +he left it to him on such terms as destroyed half the value of the +bequest. Mr. Dashwood had wished for it more for the sake of his wife +and daughters than for himself or his son; but to his son, and his +son's son, a child of four years old, it was secured, in such a way, +as to leave to himself no power of providing for those who were most +dear to him, and who most needed a provision by any charge on the +estate, or by any sale of its valuable woods. The whole was tied up +for the benefit of this child, who, in occasional visits with his +father and mother at Norland, had so far gained on the affections of +his uncle, by such attractions as are by no means unusual in children +of two or three years old; an imperfect articulation, an earnest +desire of having his own way, many cunning tricks, and a great deal of +noise, as to outweigh all the value of all the attention which, for +years, he had received from his niece and her daughters. He meant not +to be unkind, however, and, as a mark of his affection for the three +girls, he left them a thousand pounds a-piece. + +Mr. Dashwood's disappointment was, at first, severe; but his temper +was cheerful and sanguine; and he might reasonably hope to live many +years, and by living economically, lay by a considerable sum from the +produce of an estate already large, and capable of almost immediate +improvement. But the fortune, which had been so tardy in coming, was +his only one twelvemonth. He survived his uncle no longer; and ten +thousand pounds, including the late legacies, was all that remained +for his widow and daughters. + +His son was sent for as soon as his danger was known, and to him Mr. +Dashwood recommended, with all the strength and urgency which illness +could command, the interest of his mother-in-law and sisters. + +Mr. John Dashwood had not the strong feelings of the rest of the +family; but he was affected by a recommendation of such a nature at +such a time, and he promised to do every thing in his power to make +them comfortable. His father was rendered easy by such an assurance, +and Mr. John Dashwood had then leisure to consider how much there +might prudently be in his power to do for them. + +[Illustration: _His son's son, a child of four years old._] + +He was not an ill-disposed young man, unless to be rather cold hearted +and rather selfish is to be ill-disposed: but he was, in general, well +respected; for he conducted himself with propriety in the discharge of +his ordinary duties. Had he married a more amiable woman, he might +have been made still more respectable than he was: he might even have +been made amiable himself; for he was very young when he married, and +very fond of his wife. But Mrs. John Dashwood was a strong caricature +of himself; more narrow-minded and selfish. + +When he gave his promise to his father, he meditated within himself to +increase the fortunes of his sisters by the present of a thousand +pounds a-piece. He then really thought himself equal to it. The +prospect of four thousand a-year, in addition to his present income, +besides the remaining half of his own mother's fortune, warmed his +heart, and made him feel capable of generosity. "Yes, he would give +them three thousand pounds: it would be liberal and handsome! It would +be enough to make them completely easy. Three thousand pounds! he +could spare so considerable a sum with little inconvenience." He +thought of it all day long, and for many days successively, and he did +not repent. + +No sooner was his father's funeral over, than Mrs. John Dashwood, +without sending any notice of her intention to her mother-in-law, +arrived with her child and their attendants. No one could dispute her +right to come; the house was her husband's from the moment of his +father's decease; but the indelicacy of her conduct was so much the +greater, and to a woman in Mrs. Dashwood's situation, with only common +feelings, must have been highly unpleasing. But in _her_ mind there +was a sense of honor so keen, a generosity so romantic, that any +offence of the kind, by whomsoever given or received, was to her a +source of immovable disgust. Mrs. John Dashwood had never been a +favourite with any of her husband's family; but she had had no +opportunity, till the present, of showing them with how little +attention to the comfort of other people she could act when occasion +required it. + +So acutely did Mrs. Dashwood feel this ungracious behaviour, and so +earnestly did she despise her daughter-in-law for it, that, on the +arrival of the latter, she would have quitted the house for ever, had +not the entreaty of her eldest girl induced her first to reflect on +the propriety of going, and her own tender love for all her three +children determined her afterwards to stay, and for their sakes avoid +a breach with their brother. + +Elinor, this eldest daughter, whose advice was so effectual, possessed +a strength of understanding, and coolness of judgment, which qualified +her, though only nineteen, to be the counsellor of her mother, and +enabled her frequently to counteract, to the advantage of them all, +that eagerness of mind in Mrs. Dashwood which must generally have led +to imprudence. She had an excellent heart; her disposition was +affectionate, and her feelings were strong; but she knew how to govern +them: it was a knowledge which her mother had yet to learn; and which +one of her sisters had resolved never to be taught. + +Marianne's abilities were, in many respects, quite equal to Elinor's. +She was sensible and clever; but eager in everything: her sorrows, her +joys, could have no moderation. She was generous, amiable, +interesting: she was everything but prudent. The resemblance between +her and her mother was strikingly great. + +Elinor saw, with concern, the excess of her sister's sensibility; but +by Mrs. Dashwood it was valued and cherished. They encouraged each +other now in the violence of their affliction. The agony of grief +which overpowered them at first, was voluntarily renewed, was sought +for, was created again and again. They gave themselves up wholly to +their sorrow, seeking increase of wretchedness in every reflection +that could afford it, and resolved against ever admitting consolation +in future. Elinor, too, was deeply afflicted; but still she could +struggle, she could exert herself. She could consult with her brother, +could receive her sister-in-law on her arrival, and treat her with +proper attention; and could strive to rouse her mother to similar +exertion, and encourage her to similar forbearance. + +Margaret, the other sister, was a good-humored, well-disposed girl; +but as she had already imbibed a good deal of Marianne's romance, +without having much of her sense, she did not, at thirteen, bid fair +to equal her sisters at a more advanced period of life. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Mrs. John Dashwood now installed herself mistress of Norland; and her +mother and sisters-in-law were degraded to the condition of visitors. +As such, however, they were treated by her with quiet civility; and by +her husband with as much kindness as he could feel towards anybody +beyond himself, his wife, and their child. He really pressed them, +with some earnestness, to consider Norland as their home; and, as no +plan appeared so eligible to Mrs. Dashwood as remaining there till she +could accommodate herself with a house in the neighbourhood, his +invitation was accepted. + +A continuance in a place where everything reminded her of former +delight, was exactly what suited her mind. In seasons of cheerfulness, +no temper could be more cheerful than hers, or possess, in a greater +degree, that sanguine expectation of happiness which is happiness +itself. But in sorrow she must be equally carried away by her fancy, +and as far beyond consolation as in pleasure she was beyond alloy. + +Mrs. John Dashwood did not at all approve of what her husband intended +to do for his sisters. To take three thousand pounds from the fortune +of their dear little boy would be impoverishing him to the most +dreadful degree. She begged him to think again on the subject. How +could he answer it to himself to rob his child, and his only child +too, of so large a sum? And what possible claim could the Miss +Dashwoods, who were related to him only by half blood, which she +considered as no relationship at all, have on his generosity to so +large an amount. It was very well known that no affection was ever +supposed to exist between the children of any man by different +marriages; and why was he to ruin himself, and their poor little +Harry, by giving away all his money to his half sisters? + +"It was my father's last request to me," replied her husband, "that I +should assist his widow and daughters." + +"He did not know what he was talking of, I dare say; ten to one but he +was light-headed at the time. Had he been in his right senses, he +could not have thought of such a thing as begging you to give away +half your fortune from your own child." + +"He did not stipulate for any particular sum, my dear Fanny; he only +requested me, in general terms, to assist them, and make their +situation more comfortable than it was in his power to do. Perhaps it +would have been as well if he had left it wholly to myself. He could +hardly suppose I should neglect them. But as he required the promise, +I could not do less than give it; at least I thought so at the time. +The promise, therefore, was given, and must be performed. Something +must be done for them whenever they leave Norland and settle in a new +home." + +"Well, then, _let_ something be done for them; but _that_ something +need not be three thousand pounds. Consider," she added, "that when +the money is once parted with, it never can return. Your sisters will +marry, and it will be gone for ever. If, indeed, it could be restored +to our poor little boy--" + +"Why, to be sure," said her husband, very gravely, "that would make +great difference. The time may come when Harry will regret that so +large a sum was parted with. If he should have a numerous family, for +instance, it would be a very convenient addition." + +"To be sure it would." + +"Perhaps, then, it would be better for all parties, if the sum were +diminished one half. Five hundred pounds would be a prodigious +increase to their fortunes!" + +"Oh! beyond anything great! What brother on earth would do half so +much for his sisters, even if _really_ his sisters! And as it is--only +half blood! But you have such a generous spirit!" + +"I would not wish to do any thing mean," he replied. "One had rather, +on such occasions, do too much than too little. No one, at least, can +think I have not done enough for them: even themselves, they can +hardly expect more." + +"There is no knowing what _they_ may expect," said the lady, "but we +are not to think of their expectations: the question is, what you can +afford to do." + +"Certainly; and I think I may afford to give them five hundred pounds +a-piece. As it is, without any addition of mine, they will each have +about three thousand pounds on their mother's death--a very +comfortable fortune for any young woman." + +"To be sure it is; and, indeed, it strikes me that they can want no +addition at all. They will have ten thousand pounds divided amongst +them. If they marry, they will be sure of doing well, and if they do +not, they may all live very comfortably together on the interest of +ten thousand pounds." + +"That is very true, and, therefore, I do not know whether, upon the +whole, it would not be more advisable to do something for their mother +while she lives, rather than for them--something of the annuity kind I +mean. My sisters would feel the good effects of it as well as herself. +A hundred a year would make them all perfectly comfortable." + +His wife hesitated a little, however, in giving her consent to this +plan. + +"To be sure," said she, "it is better than parting with fifteen +hundred pounds at once. But, then, if Mrs. Dashwood should live +fifteen years we shall be completely taken in." + +"Fifteen years! my dear Fanny; her life cannot be worth half that +purchase." + +"Certainly not; but if you observe, people always live for ever when +there is an annuity to be paid them; and she is very stout and +healthy, and hardly forty. An annuity is a very serious business; it +comes over and over every year, and there is no getting rid of it. You +are not aware of what you are doing. I have known a great deal of the +trouble of annuities; for my mother was clogged with the payment of +three to old superannuated servants by my father's will, and it is +amazing how disagreeable she found it. Twice every year these +annuities were to be paid; and then there was the trouble of getting +it to them; and then one of them was said to have died, and afterwards +it turned out to be no such thing. My mother was quite sick of it. Her +income was not her own, she said, with such perpetual claims on it; +and it was the more unkind in my father, because, otherwise, the money +would have been entirely at my mother's disposal, without any +restriction whatever. It has given me such an abhorrence of annuities, +that I am sure I would not pin myself down to the payment of one for +all the world." + +"It is certainly an unpleasant thing," replied Mr. Dashwood, "to have +those kind of yearly drains on one's income. One's fortune, as your +mother justly says, is _not_ one's own. To be tied down to the regular +payment of such a sum, on every rent day, is by no means desirable: it +takes away one's independence." + +"Undoubtedly; and after all you have no thanks for it. They think +themselves secure, you do no more than what is expected, and it raises +no gratitude at all. If I were you, whatever I did should be done at +my own discretion entirely. I would not bind myself to allow them any +thing yearly. It may be very inconvenient some years to spare a +hundred, or even fifty pounds from our own expenses." + +"I believe you are right, my love; it will be better that there should +be no annuity in the case; whatever I may give them occasionally will +be of far greater assistance than a yearly allowance, because they +would only enlarge their style of living if they felt sure of a larger +income, and would not be sixpence the richer for it at the end of the +year. It will certainly be much the best way. A present of fifty +pounds, now and then, will prevent their ever being distressed for +money, and will, I think, be amply discharging my promise to my +father." + +"To be sure it will. Indeed, to say the truth, I am convinced within +myself that your father had no idea of your giving them any money at +all. The assistance he thought of, I dare say, was only such as might +be reasonably expected of you; for instance, such as looking out for a +comfortable small house for them, helping them to move their things, +and sending them presents of fish and game, and so forth, whenever +they are in season. I'll lay my life that he meant nothing farther; +indeed, it would be very strange and unreasonable if he did. Do but +consider, my dear Mr. Dashwood, how excessively comfortable your +mother-in-law and her daughters may live on the interest of seven +thousand pounds, besides the thousand pounds belonging to each of the +girls, which brings them in fifty pounds a year a-piece, and, of +course, they will pay their mother for their board out of it. +Altogether, they will have five hundred a-year amongst them, and what +on earth can four women want for more than that?--They will live so +cheap! Their housekeeping will be nothing at all. They will have no +carriage, no horses, and hardly any servants; they will keep no +company, and can have no expenses of any kind! Only conceive how +comfortable they will be! Five hundred a year! I am sure I cannot +imagine how they will spend half of it; and as to your giving them +more, it is quite absurd to think of it. They will be much more able +to give _you_ something." + +"Upon my word," said Mr. Dashwood, "I believe you are perfectly right. +My father certainly could mean nothing more by his request to me than +what you say. I clearly understand it now, and I will strictly fulfil +my engagement by such acts of assistance and kindness to them as you +have described. When my mother removes into another house my services +shall be readily given to accommodate her as far as I can. Some little +present of furniture too may be acceptable then." + +"Certainly," returned Mrs. John Dashwood. "But, however, _one_ thing +must be considered. When your father and mother moved to Norland, +though the furniture of Stanhill was sold, all the china, plate, and +linen was saved, and is now left to your mother. Her house will +therefore be almost completely fitted up as soon as she takes it." + +"That is a material consideration undoubtedly. A valuable legacy +indeed! And yet some of the plate would have been a very pleasant +addition to our own stock here." + +"Yes; and the set of breakfast china is twice as handsome as what +belongs to this house. A great deal too handsome, in my opinion, for +any place _they_ can ever afford to live in. But, however, so it is. +Your father thought only of _them_ And I must say this: that you owe +no particular gratitude to him, nor attention to his wishes; for we +very well know that if he could, he would have left almost everything +in the world to _them._" + +This argument was irresistible. It gave to his intentions whatever of +decision was wanting before; and he finally resolved, that it would be +absolutely unnecessary, if not highly indecorous, to do more for the +widow and children of his father, than such kind of neighbourly acts +as his own wife pointed out. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Mrs. Dashwood remained at Norland several months; not from any +disinclination to move when the sight of every well known spot ceased +to raise the violent emotion which it produced for a while; for when +her spirits began to revive, and her mind became capable of some other +exertion than that of heightening its affliction by melancholy +remembrances, she was impatient to be gone, and indefatigable in her +inquiries for a suitable dwelling in the neighbourhood of Norland; for +to remove far from that beloved spot was impossible. But she could +hear of no situation that at once answered her notions of comfort and +ease, and suited the prudence of her eldest daughter, whose steadier +judgment rejected several houses as too large for their income, which +her mother would have approved. + +[Illustration: "_I cannot imagine how they will spend half of it._"] + +Mrs. Dashwood had been informed by her husband of the solemn promise +on the part of his son in their favour, which gave comfort to his last +earthly reflections. She doubted the sincerity of this assurance no +more than he had doubted it himself, and she thought of it for her +daughters' sake with satisfaction, though as for herself she was +persuaded that a much smaller provision than 7000L would support her +in affluence. For their brother's sake, too, for the sake of his own +heart, she rejoiced; and she reproached herself for being unjust to +his merit before, in believing him incapable of generosity. His +attentive behaviour to herself and his sisters convinced her that +their welfare was dear to him, and, for a long time, she firmly relied +on the liberality of his intentions. + +The contempt which she had, very early in their acquaintance, felt for +her daughter-in-law, was very much increased by the farther knowledge +of her character, which half a year's residence in her family +afforded; and perhaps in spite of every consideration of politeness or +maternal affection on the side of the former, the two ladies might +have found it impossible to have lived together so long, had not a +particular circumstance occurred to give still greater eligibility, +according to the opinions of Mrs. Dashwood, to her daughters' +continuance at Norland. + +This circumstance was a growing attachment between her eldest girl and +the brother of Mrs. John Dashwood, a gentlemanlike and pleasing young +man, who was introduced to their acquaintance soon after his sister's +establishment at Norland, and who had since spent the greatest part of +his time there. + +Some mothers might have encouraged the intimacy from motives of +interest, for Edward Ferrars was the eldest son of a man who had died +very rich; and some might have repressed it from motives of prudence, +for, except a trifling sum, the whole of his fortune depended on the +will of his mother. But Mrs. Dashwood was alike uninfluenced by either +consideration. It was enough for her that he appeared to be amiable, +that he loved her daughter, and that Elinor returned the partiality. +It was contrary to every doctrine of her's that difference of fortune +should keep any couple asunder who were attracted by resemblance of +disposition; and that Elinor's merit should not be acknowledged by +every one who knew her, was to her comprehension impossible. + +Edward Ferrars was not recommended to their good opinion by any +peculiar graces of person or address. He was not handsome, and his +manners required intimacy to make them pleasing. He was too diffident +to do justice to himself; but when his natural shyness was overcome, +his behaviour gave every indication of an open, affectionate heart. +His understanding was good, and his education had given it solid +improvement. But he was neither fitted by abilities nor disposition to +answer the wishes of his mother and sister, who longed to see him +distinguished as--they hardly knew what. They wanted him to make a +fine figure in the world in some manner or other. His mother wished to +interest him in political concerns, to get him into parliament, or to +see him connected with some of the great men of the day. Mrs. John +Dashwood wished it likewise; but in the mean while, till one of these +superior blessings could be attained, it would have quieted her +ambition to see him driving a barouche. But Edward had no turn for +great men or barouches. All his wishes centered in domestic comfort +and the quiet of private life. Fortunately he had a younger brother +who was more promising. + +Edward had been staying several weeks in the house before he engaged +much of Mrs. Dashwood's attention; for she was, at that time, in such +affliction as rendered her careless of surrounding objects. She saw +only that he was quiet and unobtrusive, and she liked him for it. He +did not disturb the wretchedness of her mind by ill-timed +conversation. She was first called to observe and approve him farther, +by a reflection which Elinor chanced one day to make on the +difference between him and his sister. It was a contrast which +recommended him most forcibly to her mother. + +"It is enough," said she; "to say that he is unlike Fanny is enough. +It implies everything amiable. I love him already." + +"I think you will like him," said Elinor, "when you know more of him." + +"Like him!" replied her mother with a smile. "I feel no sentiment of +approbation inferior to love." + +"You may esteem him." + +"I have never yet known what it was to separate esteem and love." + +Mrs. Dashwood now took pains to get acquainted with him. Her manners +were attaching, and soon banished his reserve. She speedily +comprehended all his merits; the persuasion of his regard for Elinor +perhaps assisted her penetration; but she really felt assured of his +worth: and even that quietness of manner, which militated against all +her established ideas of what a young man's address ought to be, was +no longer uninteresting when she knew his heart to be warm and his +temper affectionate. + +No sooner did she perceive any symptom of love in his behaviour to +Elinor, than she considered their serious attachment as certain, and +looked forward to their marriage as rapidly approaching. + +"In a few months, my dear Marianne," said she, "Elinor will, in all +probability be settled for life. We shall miss her; but _she_ will be +happy." + +"Oh! Mamma, how shall we do without her?" + +"My love, it will be scarcely a separation. We shall live within a few +miles of each other, and shall meet every day of our lives. You will +gain a brother--a real, affectionate brother. I have the highest +opinion in the world of Edward's heart. But you look grave, Marianne; +do you disapprove your sister's choice?" + +"Perhaps," said Marianne, "I may consider it with some surprise. +Edward is very amiable, and I love him tenderly. But yet--he is not +the kind of young man; there is something wanting--his figure is not +striking; it has none of that grace which I should expect in the man +who could seriously attach my sister. His eyes want all that spirit, +that fire, which at once announce virtue and intelligence. And besides +all this, I am afraid, Mamma, he has no real taste. Music seems +scarcely to attract him, and though he admires Elinor's drawings very +much, it is not the admiration of a person who can understand their +worth. It is evident, in spite of his frequent attention to her while +she draws, that in fact he knows nothing of the matter. He admires as +a lover, not as a connoisseur. To satisfy me, those characters must be +united. I could not be happy with a man whose taste did not in every +point coincide with my own. He must enter into all my feelings; the +same books, the same music must charm us both. Oh! mama, how +spiritless, how tame was Edward's manner in reading to us last night! +I felt for my sister most severely. Yet she bore it with so much +composure, she seemed scarcely to notice it. I could hardly keep my +seat. To hear those beautiful lines which have frequently almost +driven me wild, pronounced with such impenetrable calmness, such +dreadful indifference!" + +"He would certainly have done more justice to simple and elegant +prose. I thought so at the time; but you _would_ give him Cowper." + +"Nay, Mamma, if he is not to be animated by Cowper!--but we must allow +for difference of taste. Elinor has not my feelings, and therefore she +may overlook it, and be happy with him. But it would have broke _my_ +heart, had I loved him, to hear him read with so little sensibility. +Mama, the more I know of the world, the more am I convinced that I +shall never see a man whom I can really love. I require so much! He +must have all Edward's virtues, and his person and manners must +ornament his goodness with every possible charm." + +"Remember, my love, that you are not seventeen. It is yet too early in +life to despair of such a happiness. Why should you be less fortunate +than your mother? In one circumstance only, my Marianne, may your +destiny be different from her's!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +"What a pity it is, Elinor," said Marianne, "that Edward should have +no taste for drawing." + +"No taste for drawing!" replied Elinor, "why should you think so? He +does not draw himself, indeed, but he has great pleasure in seeing the +performances of other people, and I assure you he is by no means +deficient in natural taste, though he has not had opportunities of +improving it. Had he ever been in the way of learning, I think he +would have drawn very well. He distrusts his own judgment in such +matters so much, that he is always unwilling to give his opinion on +any picture; but he has an innate propriety and simplicity of taste, +which in general direct him perfectly right." + +Marianne was afraid of offending, and said no more on the subject; but +the kind of approbation which Elinor described as excited in him by +the drawings of other people, was very far from that rapturous +delight, which, in her opinion, could alone be called taste. Yet, +though smiling within herself at the mistake, she honoured her sister +for that blind partiality to Edward which produced it. + +"I hope, Marianne," continued Elinor, "you do not consider him as +deficient in general taste. Indeed, I think I may say that you cannot, +for your behaviour to him is perfectly cordial, and if _that_ were +your opinion, I am sure you could never be civil to him." + +Marianne hardly knew what to say. She would not wound the feelings of +her sister on any account, and yet to say what she did not believe was +impossible. At length she replied: + +"Do not be offended, Elinor, if my praise of him is not in every thing +equal to your sense of his merits. I have not had so many +opportunities of estimating the minuter propensities of his mind, his +inclinations and tastes, as you have; but I have the highest opinion +in the world of his goodness and sense. I think him every thing that +is worthy and amiable." + +"I am sure," replied Elinor, with a smile, "that his dearest friends +could not be dissatisfied with such commendation as that. I do not +perceive how you could express yourself more warmly." + +Marianne was rejoiced to find her sister so easily pleased. + +"Of his sense and his goodness," continued Elinor, "no one can, I +think, be in doubt, who has seen him often enough to engage him in +unreserved conversation. The excellence of his understanding and his +principles can be concealed only by that shyness which too often keeps +him silent. You know enough of him to do justice to his solid worth. +But of his minuter propensities, as you call them you have from +peculiar circumstances been kept more ignorant than myself. He and I +have been at times thrown a good deal together, while you have been +wholly engrossed on the most affectionate principle by my mother. I +have seen a great deal of him, have studied his sentiments and heard +his opinion on subjects of literature and taste; and, upon the whole, +I venture to pronounce that his mind is well-informed, enjoyment of +books exceedingly great, his imagination lively, his observation just +and correct, and his taste delicate and pure. His abilities in every +respect improve as much upon acquaintance as his manners and person. +At first sight, his address is certainly not striking; and his person +can hardly be called handsome, till the expression of his eyes, which +are uncommonly good, and the general sweetness of his countenance, is +perceived. At present, I know him so well, that I think him really +handsome; or at least, almost so. What say you, Marianne?" + +"I shall very soon think him handsome, Elinor, if I do not now. When +you tell me to love him as a brother, I shall no more see imperfection +in his face, than I now do in his heart." + +Elinor started at this declaration, and was sorry for the warmth she +had been betrayed into, in speaking of him. She felt that Edward stood +very high in her opinion. She believed the regard to be mutual; but +she required greater certainty of it to make Marianne's conviction of +their attachment agreeable to her. She knew that what Marianne and her +mother conjectured one moment, they believed the next--that with them, +to wish was to hope, and to hope was to expect. She tried to explain +the real state of the case to her sister. + +"I do not attempt to deny," said she, "that I think very highly of +him--that I greatly esteem, that I like him." + +Marianne here burst forth with indignation-- + +"Esteem him! Like him! Cold-hearted Elinor! Oh! worse than +cold-hearted! Ashamed of being otherwise. Use those words again, and I +will leave the room this moment." + +Elinor could not help laughing. "Excuse me," said she; "and be assured +that I meant no offence to you, by speaking, in so quiet a way, of my +own feelings. Believe them to be stronger than I have declared; +believe them, in short, to be such as his merit, and the +suspicion--the hope--of his affection for me may warrant, without +imprudence or folly. But farther than this you must not believe. I am +by no means assured of his regard for me. There are moments when the +extent of it seems doubtful; and till his sentiments are fully known, +you cannot wonder at my wishing to avoid any encouragement of my own +partiality, by believing or calling it more than it is. In my heart I +feel little--scarcely any doubt of his preference. But there are other +points to be considered besides his inclination. He is very far from +being independent. What his mother really is we cannot know; but, from +Fanny's occasional mention of her conduct and opinions, we have never +been disposed to think her amiable; and I am very much mistaken if +Edward is not himself aware that there would be many difficulties in +his way, if he were to wish to marry a woman who had not either a +great fortune or high rank." + +Marianne was astonished to find how much the imagination of her mother +and herself had outstripped the truth. + +"And you really are not engaged to him!" said she. "Yet it certainly +soon will happen. But two advantages will proceed from this delay. I +shall not lose you so soon, and Edward will have greater opportunity +of improving that natural taste for your favourite pursuit which must +be so indispensably necessary to your future felicity. Oh! if he +should be so far stimulated by your genius as to learn to draw +himself, how delightful it would be!" + +Elinor had given her real opinion to her sister. She could not +consider her partiality for Edward in so prosperous a state as +Marianne had believed it. There was, at times, a want of spirits about +him which, if it did not denote indifference, spoke of something +almost as unpromising. A doubt of her regard, supposing him to feel +it, need not give him more than inquietude. It would not be likely to +produce that dejection of mind which frequently attended him. A more +reasonable cause might be found in the dependent situation which +forbade the indulgence of his affection. She knew that his mother +neither behaved to him so as to make his home comfortable at present, +nor to give him any assurance that he might form a home for himself, +without strictly attending to her views for his aggrandizement. With +such a knowledge as this, it was impossible for Elinor to feel easy on +the subject. She was far from depending on that result of his +preference of her, which her mother and sister still considered as +certain. Nay, the longer they were together the more doubtful seemed +the nature of his regard; and sometimes, for a few painful minutes, +she believed it to be no more than friendship. + +But, whatever might really be its limits, it was enough, when +perceived by his sister, to make her uneasy, and at the same time, +(which was still more common,) to make her uncivil. She took the first +opportunity of affronting her mother-in-law on the occasion, talking +to her so expressively of her brother's great expectations, of Mrs. +Ferrars's resolution that both her sons should marry well, and of the +danger attending any young woman who attempted to _draw him in_, that +Mrs. Dashwood could neither pretend to be unconscious, nor endeavor to +be calm. She gave her an answer which marked her contempt, and +instantly left the room, resolving that, whatever might be the +inconvenience or expense of so sudden a removal, her beloved Elinor +should not be exposed another week to such insinuations. + +In this state of her spirits, a letter was delivered to her from the +post, which contained a proposal particularly well timed. It was the +offer of a small house, on very easy terms, belonging to a relation of +her own, a gentleman of consequence and property in Devonshire. The +letter was from this gentleman himself, and written in the true spirit +of friendly accommodation. He understood that she was in need of a +dwelling; and though the house he now offered her was merely a +cottage, he assured her that everything should be done to it which she +might think necessary, if the situation pleased her. He earnestly +pressed her, after giving the particulars of the house and garden, to +come with her daughters to Barton Park, the place of his own +residence, from whence she might judge, herself, whether Barton +Cottage, for the houses were in the same parish, could, by any +alteration, be made comfortable to her. He seemed really anxious to +accommodate them and the whole of his letter was written in so +friendly a style as could not fail of giving pleasure to his cousin; +more especially at a moment when she was suffering under the cold and +unfeeling behaviour of her nearer connections. She needed no time for +deliberation or inquiry. Her resolution was formed as she read. The +situation of Barton, in a county so far distant from Sussex as +Devonshire, which, but a few hours before, would have been a +sufficient objection to outweigh every possible advantage belonging to +the place, was now its first recommendation. To quit the neighbourhood +of Norland was no longer an evil; it was an object of desire; it was a +blessing, in comparison of the misery of continuing her +daughter-in-law's guest; and to remove for ever from that beloved +place would be less painful than to inhabit or visit it while such a +woman was its mistress. She instantly wrote Sir John Middleton her +acknowledgment of his kindness, and her acceptance of his proposal; +and then hastened to show both letters to her daughters, that she +might be secure of their approbation before her answer were sent. + +Elinor had always thought it would be more prudent for them to settle +at some distance from Norland, than immediately amongst their present +acquaintance. On _that_ head, therefore, it was not for her to oppose +her mother's intention of removing into Devonshire. The house, too, as +described by Sir John, was on so simple a scale, and the rent so +uncommonly moderate, as to leave her no right of objection on either +point; and, therefore, though it was not a plan which brought any +charm to her fancy, though it was a removal from the vicinity of +Norland beyond her wishes, she made no attempt to dissuade her mother +from sending a letter of acquiescence. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +No sooner was her answer dispatched, than Mrs. Dashwood indulged +herself in the pleasure of announcing to her son-in-law and his wife +that she was provided with a house, and should incommode them no +longer than till every thing were ready for her inhabiting it. They +heard her with surprise. Mrs. John Dashwood said nothing; but her +husband civilly hoped that she would not be settled far from Norland. +She had great satisfaction in replying that she was going into +Devonshire. Edward turned hastily towards her, on hearing this, and, +in a voice of surprise and concern, which required no explanation to +her, repeated, "Devonshire! Are you, indeed, going there? So far from +hence! And to what part of it?" She explained the situation. It was +within four miles northward of Exeter. + +"It is but a cottage," she continued, "but I hope to see many of my +friends in it. A room or two can easily be added; and if my friends +find no difficulty in travelling so far to see me, I am sure I will +find none in accommodating them." + +She concluded with a very kind invitation to Mr. and Mrs. John +Dashwood to visit her at Barton; and to Edward she gave one with still +greater affection. Though her late conversation with her +daughter-in-law had made her resolve on remaining at Norland no longer +than was unavoidable, it had not produced the smallest effect on her +in that point to which it principally tended. To separate Edward and +Elinor was as far from being her object as ever; and she wished to +show Mrs. John Dashwood, by this pointed invitation to her brother, +how totally she disregarded her disapprobation of the match. + +Mr. John Dashwood told his mother again and again how exceedingly +sorry he was that she had taken a house at such a distance from +Norland as to prevent his being of any service to her in removing her +furniture. He really felt conscientiously vexed on the occasion; for +the very exertion to which he had limited the performance of his +promise to his father was by this arrangement rendered impracticable. +The furniture was all sent around by water. It chiefly consisted of +household linen, plate, china, and books, with a handsome pianoforte +of Marianne's. Mrs. John Dashwood saw the packages depart with a sigh: +she could not help feeling it hard that as Mrs. Dashwood's income +would be so trifling in comparison with their own, she should have any +handsome article of furniture. + +Mrs. Dashwood took the house for a twelvemonth; it was ready +furnished, and she might have immediate possession. No difficulty +arose on either side in the agreement; and she waited only for the +disposal of her effects at Norland, and to determine her future +household, before she set off for the west; and this, as she was +exceedingly rapid in the performance of everything that interested +her, was soon done. The horses which were left her by her husband had +been sold soon after his death, and an opportunity now offering of +disposing of her carriage, she agreed to sell that likewise at the +earnest advice of her eldest daughter. For the comfort of her +children, had she consulted only her own wishes, she would have kept +it; but the discretion of Elinor prevailed. _Her_ wisdom too limited +the number of their servants to three; two maids and a man, with whom +they were speedily provided from amongst those who had formed their +establishment at Norland. + +The man and one of the maids were sent off immediately into +Devonshire, to prepare the house for their mistress's arrival; for as +Lady Middleton was entirely unknown to Mrs. Dashwood, she preferred +going directly to the cottage to being a visitor at Barton Park; and +she relied so undoubtingly on Sir John's description of the house, as +to feel no curiosity to examine it herself till she entered it as her +own. Her eagerness to be gone from Norland was preserved from +diminution by the evident satisfaction of her daughter-in-law in the +prospect of her removal; a satisfaction which was but feebly attempted +to be concealed under a cold invitation to her to defer her departure. +Now was the time when her son-in-law's promise to his father might +with particular propriety be fulfilled. Since he had neglected to do +it on first coming to the estate, their quitting his house might be +looked on as the most suitable period for its accomplishment. But Mrs. +Dashwood began shortly to give over every hope of the kind, and to be +convinced, from the general drift of his discourse, that his +assistance extended no farther than their maintenance for six months +at Norland. He so frequently talked of the increasing expenses of +housekeeping, and of the perpetual demands upon his purse, which a man +of any consequence in the world was beyond calculation exposed to, +that he seemed rather to stand in need of more money himself than to +have any design of giving money away. + +In a very few weeks from the day which brought Sir John Middleton's +first letter to Norland, every thing was so far settled in their +future abode as to enable Mrs. Dashwood and her daughters to begin +their journey. + +Many were the tears shed by them in their last adieus to a place so +much beloved. "Dear, dear Norland!" said Marianne, as she wandered +alone before the house, on the last evening of their being there; +"when shall I cease to regret you!--when learn to feel a home +elsewhere! Oh! happy house, could you know what I suffer in now +viewing you from this spot, from whence perhaps I may view you no +more! And you, ye well-known trees!--but you will continue the same. +No leaf will decay because we are removed, nor any branch become +motionless although we can observe you no longer! No; you will +continue the same; unconscious of the pleasure or the regret you +occasion, and insensible of any change in those who walk under your +shade! But who will remain to enjoy you?" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The first part of their journey was performed in too melancholy a +disposition to be otherwise than tedious and unpleasant. But as they +drew towards the end of it, their interest in the appearance of a +country which they were to inhabit overcame their dejection, and a +view of Barton Valley as they entered it gave them cheerfulness. It +was a pleasant fertile spot, well wooded, and rich in pasture. After +winding along it for more than a mile, they reached their own house. A +small green court was the whole of its demesne in front; and a neat +wicket gate admitted them into it. + +As a house, Barton Cottage, though small, was comfortable and compact; +but as a cottage it was defective, for the building was regular, the +roof was tiled, the window shutters were not painted green, nor were +the walls covered with honeysuckles. A narrow passage led directly +through the house into the garden behind. On each side of the entrance +was a sitting room, about sixteen feet square; and beyond them were +the offices and the stairs. Four bedrooms and two garrets formed the +rest of the house. It had not been built many years and was in good +repair. In comparison of Norland, it was poor and small indeed!--but +the tears which recollection called forth as they entered the house +were soon dried away. They were cheered by the joy of the servants on +their arrival, and each for the sake of the others resolved to appear +happy. It was very early in September; the season was fine, and from +first seeing the place under the advantage of good weather, they +received an impression in its favour which was of material service in +recommending it to their lasting approbation. + +The situation of the house was good. High hills rose immediately +behind, and at no great distance on each side; some of which were open +downs, the others cultivated and woody. The village of Barton was +chiefly on one of these hills, and formed a pleasant view from the +cottage windows. The prospect in front was more extensive; it +commanded the whole of the valley, and reached into the country +beyond. The hills which surrounded the cottage terminated the valley +in that direction; under another name, and in another course, it +branched out again between two of the steepest of them. + +With the size and furniture of the house Mrs. Dashwood was upon the +whole well satisfied; for though her former style of life rendered +many additions to the latter indispensable, yet to add and improve was +a delight to her; and she had at this time ready money enough to +supply all that was wanted of greater elegance to the apartments. "As +for the house itself, to be sure," said she, "it is too small for our +family, but we will make ourselves tolerably comfortable for the +present, as it is too late in the year for improvements. Perhaps in +the spring, if I have plenty of money, as I dare say I shall, we may +think about building. These parlors are both too small for such +parties of our friends as I hope to see often collected here; and I +have some thoughts of throwing the passage into one of them with +perhaps a part of the other, and so leave the remainder of that other +for an entrance; this, with a new drawing room which may be easily +added, and a bed-chamber and garret above, will make it a very snug +little cottage. I could wish the stairs were handsome. But one must +not expect every thing; though I suppose it would be no difficult +matter to widen them. I shall see how much I am before-hand with the +world in the spring, and we will plan our improvements accordingly." + +In the mean time, till all these alterations could be made from the +savings of an income of five hundred a-year by a woman who never +saved in her life, they were wise enough to be contented with the +house as it was; and each of them was busy in arranging their +particular concerns, and endeavoring, by placing around them books and +other possessions, to form themselves a home. Marianne's pianoforte +was unpacked and properly disposed of; and Elinor's drawings were +affixed to the walls of their sitting room. + +In such employments as these they were interrupted soon after +breakfast the next day by the entrance of their landlord, who called +to welcome them to Barton, and to offer them every accommodation from +his own house and garden in which theirs might at present be +deficient. Sir John Middleton was a good looking man about forty. He +had formerly visited at Stanhill, but it was too long for his young +cousins to remember him. His countenance was thoroughly good-humoured; +and his manners were as friendly as the style of his letter. Their +arrival seemed to afford him real satisfaction, and their comfort to +be an object of real solicitude to him. He said much of his earnest +desire of their living in the most sociable terms with his family, and +pressed them so cordially to dine at Barton Park every day till they +were better settled at home, that, though his entreaties were carried +to a point of perseverance beyond civility, they could not give +offence. His kindness was not confined to words; for within an hour +after he left them, a large basket full of garden stuff and fruit +arrived from the park, which was followed before the end of the day by +a present of game. He insisted, moreover, on conveying all their +letters to and from the post for them, and would not be denied the +satisfaction of sending them his newspaper every day. + +Lady Middleton had sent a very civil message by him, denoting her +intention of waiting on Mrs. Dashwood as soon as she could be assured +that her visit would be no inconvenience; and as this message was +answered by an invitation equally polite, her ladyship was introduced +to them the next day. + +[Illustration: _So shy before company._] + +They were, of course, very anxious to see a person on whom so much of +their comfort at Barton must depend; and the elegance of her +appearance was favourable to their wishes. Lady Middleton was not more +than six or seven and twenty; her face was handsome, her figure tall +and striking, and her address graceful. Her manners had all the +elegance which her husband's wanted. But they would have been improved +by some share of his frankness and warmth; and her visit was long +enough to detract something from their first admiration, by showing +that, though perfectly well-bred, she was reserved, cold, and had +nothing to say for herself beyond the most common-place inquiry or +remark. + +Conversation however was not wanted, for Sir John was very chatty, and +Lady Middleton had taken the wise precaution of bringing with her +their eldest child, a fine little boy about six years old, by which +means there was one subject always to be recurred to by the ladies in +case of extremity, for they had to enquire his name and age, admire +his beauty, and ask him questions which his mother answered for him, +while he hung about her and held down his head, to the great surprise +of her ladyship, who wondered at his being so shy before company, as +he could make noise enough at home. On every formal visit a child +ought to be of the party, by way of provision for discourse. In the +present case it took up ten minutes to determine whether the boy were +most like his father or mother, and in what particular he resembled +either, for of course every body differed, and every body was +astonished at the opinion of the others. + +An opportunity was soon to be given to the Dashwoods of debating on +the rest of the children, as Sir John would not leave the house +without securing their promise of dining at the park the next day. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Barton Park was about half a mile from the cottage. The ladies had +passed near it in their way along the valley, but it was screened from +their view at home by the projection of a hill. The house was large +and handsome; and the Middletons lived in a style of equal hospitality +and elegance. The former was for Sir John's gratification, the latter +for that of his lady. They were scarcely ever without some friends +staying with them in the house, and they kept more company of every +kind than any other family in the neighbourhood. It was necessary to +the happiness of both; for however dissimilar in temper and outward +behaviour, they strongly resembled each other in that total want of +talent and taste which confined their employments, unconnected with +such as society produced, within a very narrow compass. Sir John was a +sportsman, Lady Middleton a mother. He hunted and shot, and she +humoured her children; and these were their only resources. Lady +Middleton had the advantage of being able to spoil her children all +the year round, while Sir John's independent employments were in +existence only half the time. Continual engagements at home and +abroad, however, supplied all the deficiencies of nature and +education; supported the good spirits of Sir John, and gave exercise +to the good breeding of his wife. + +Lady Middleton piqued herself upon the elegance of her table, and of +all her domestic arrangements; and from this kind of vanity was her +greatest enjoyment in any of their parties. But Sir John's +satisfaction in society was much more real; he delighted in collecting +about him more young people than his house would hold, and the noisier +they were the better was he pleased. He was a blessing to all the +juvenile part of the neighbourhood, for in summer he was for ever +forming parties to eat cold ham and chicken out of doors, and in +winter his private balls were numerous enough for any young lady who +was not suffering under the insatiable appetite of fifteen. + +The arrival of a new family in the country was always a matter of joy +to him, and in every point of view he was charmed with the inhabitants +he had now procured for his cottage at Barton. The Miss Dashwoods were +young, pretty, and unaffected. It was enough to secure his good +opinion; for to be unaffected was all that a pretty girl could want to +make her mind as captivating as her person. The friendliness of his +disposition made him happy in accommodating those, whose situation +might be considered, in comparison with the past, as unfortunate. In +showing kindness to his cousins therefore he had the real satisfaction +of a good heart; and in settling a family of females only in his +cottage, he had all the satisfaction of a sportsman; for a sportsman, +though he esteems only those of his sex who are sportsmen likewise, is +not often desirous of encouraging their taste by admitting them to a +residence within his own manor. + +Mrs. Dashwood and her daughters were met at the door of the house by +Sir John, who welcomed them to Barton Park with unaffected sincerity; +and as he attended them to the drawing room repeated to the young +ladies the concern which the same subject had drawn from him the day +before, at being unable to get any smart young men to meet them. They +would see, he said, only one gentleman there besides himself; a +particular friend who was staying at the park, but who was neither +very young nor very gay. He hoped they would all excuse the smallness +of the party, and could assure them it should never happen so again. +He had been to several families that morning in hopes of procuring +some addition to their number, but it was moonlight and every body was +full of engagements. Luckily Lady Middleton's mother had arrived at +Barton within the last hour, and as she was a very cheerful agreeable +woman, he hoped the young ladies would not find it so very dull as +they might imagine. The young ladies, as well as their mother, were +perfectly satisfied with having two entire strangers of the party, and +wished for no more. + +Mrs. Jennings, Lady Middleton's mother, was a good-humoured, merry, +fat, elderly woman, who talked a great deal, seemed very happy, and +rather vulgar. She was full of jokes and laughter, and before dinner +was over had said many witty things on the subject of lovers and +husbands; hoped they had not left their hearts behind them in Sussex, +and pretended to see them blush whether they did or not. Marianne was +vexed at it for her sister's sake, and turned her eyes towards Elinor +to see how she bore these attacks, with an earnestness which gave +Elinor far more pain than could arise from such common-place raillery +as Mrs. Jennings's. + +Colonel Brandon, the friend of Sir John, seemed no more adapted by +resemblance of manner to be his friend, than Lady Middleton was to be +his wife, or Mrs. Jennings to be Lady Middleton's mother. He was +silent and grave. His appearance however was not unpleasing, in spite +of his being in the opinion of Marianne and Margaret an absolute old +bachelor, for he was on the wrong side of five and thirty; but though +his face was not handsome, his countenance was sensible, and his +address was particularly gentlemanlike. + +There was nothing in any of the party which could recommend them as +companions to the Dashwoods; but the cold insipidity of Lady Middleton +was so particularly repulsive, that in comparison of it the gravity +of Colonel Brandon, and even the boisterous mirth of Sir John and his +mother-in-law was interesting. Lady Middleton seemed to be roused to +enjoyment only by the entrance of her four noisy children after +dinner, who pulled her about, tore her clothes, and put an end to +every kind of discourse except what related to themselves. + +In the evening, as Marianne was discovered to be musical, she was +invited to play. The instrument was unlocked, every body prepared to +be charmed, and Marianne, who sang very well, at their request went +through the chief of the songs which Lady Middleton had brought into +the family on her marriage, and which perhaps had lain ever since in +the same position on the pianoforte, for her ladyship had celebrated +that event by giving up music, although by her mother's account, she +had played extremely well, and by her own was very fond of it. + +Marianne's performance was highly applauded. Sir John was loud in his +admiration at the end of every song, and as loud in his conversation +with the others while every song lasted. Lady Middleton frequently +called him to order, wondered how any one's attention could be +diverted from music for a moment, and asked Marianne to sing a +particular song which Marianne had just finished. Colonel Brandon +alone, of all the party, heard her without being in raptures. He paid +her only the compliment of attention; and she felt a respect for him +on the occasion, which the others had reasonably forfeited by their +shameless want of taste. His pleasure in music, though it amounted not +to that ecstatic delight which alone could sympathize with her own, +was estimable when contrasted against the horrible insensibility of +the others; and she was reasonable enough to allow that a man of five +and thirty might well have outlived all acuteness of feeling and every +exquisite power of enjoyment. She was perfectly disposed to make every +allowance for the colonel's advanced state of life which humanity +required. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Mrs. Jennings was a widow with an ample jointure. She had only two +daughters, both of whom she had lived to see respectably married, and +she had now therefore nothing to do but to marry all the rest of the +world. In the promotion of this object she was zealously active, as +far as her ability reached; and missed no opportunity of projecting +weddings among all the young people of her acquaintance. She was +remarkably quick in the discovery of attachments, and had enjoyed the +advantage of raising the blushes and the vanity of many a young lady +by insinuations of her power over such a young man; and this kind of +discernment enabled her soon after her arrival at Barton decisively to +pronounce that Colonel Brandon was very much in love with Marianne +Dashwood. She rather suspected it to be so, on the very first evening +of their being together, from his listening so attentively while she +sang to them; and when the visit was returned by the Middletons' +dining at the cottage, the fact was ascertained by his listening to +her again. It must be so. She was perfectly convinced of it. It would +be an excellent match, for _he_ was rich, and _she_ was handsome. Mrs. +Jennings had been anxious to see Colonel Brandon well married, ever +since her connection with Sir John first brought him to her knowledge; +and she was always anxious to get a good husband for every pretty +girl. + +The immediate advantage to herself was by no means inconsiderable, for +it supplied her with endless jokes against them both. At the park she +laughed at the colonel, and in the cottage at Marianne. To the former +her raillery was probably, as far as it regarded only himself, +perfectly indifferent; but to the latter it was at first +incomprehensible; and when its object was understood, she hardly knew +whether most to laugh at its absurdity, or censure its impertinence, +for she considered it as an unfeeling reflection on the colonel's +advanced years, and on his forlorn condition as an old bachelor. + +Mrs. Dashwood, who could not think a man five years younger than +herself, so exceedingly ancient as he appeared to the youthful fancy +of her daughter, ventured to clear Mrs. Jennings from the probability +of wishing to throw ridicule on his age. + +"But at least, Mamma, you cannot deny the absurdity of the accusation, +though you may not think it intentionally ill-natured. Colonel Brandon +is certainly younger than Mrs. Jennings, but he is old enough to be +_my_ father; and if he were ever animated enough to be in love, must +have long outlived every sensation of the kind. It is too ridiculous! +When is a man to be safe from such wit, if age and infirmity will not +protect him?" + +"Infirmity!" said Elinor, "do you call Colonel Brandon infirm? I can +easily suppose that his age may appear much greater to you than to my +mother; but you can hardly deceive yourself as to his having the use +of his limbs!" + +"Did not you hear him complain of the rheumatism? and is not that the +commonest infirmity of declining life?" + +"My dearest child," said her mother, laughing, "at this rate you must +be in continual terror of _my_ decay; and it must seem to you a +miracle that my life has been extended to the advanced age of forty." + +"Mamma, you are not doing me justice. I know very well that Colonel +Brandon is not old enough to make his friends yet apprehensive of +losing him in the course of nature. He may live twenty years longer. +But thirty-five has nothing to do with matrimony." + +"Perhaps," said Elinor, "thirty-five and seventeen had better not have +any thing to do with matrimony together. But if there should by any +chance happen to be a woman who is single at seven and twenty, I +should not think Colonel Brandon's being thirty-five any objection to +his marrying _her_ ." + +"A woman of seven and twenty," said Marianne, after pausing a moment, +"can never hope to feel or inspire affection again, and if her home be +uncomfortable, or her fortune small, I can suppose that she might +bring herself to submit to the offices of a nurse, for the sake of the +provision and security of a wife. In his marrying such a woman +therefore there would be nothing unsuitable. It would be a compact of +convenience, and the world would be satisfied. In my eyes it would be +no marriage at all, but that would be nothing. To me it would seem +only a commercial exchange, in which each wished to be benefited at +the expense of the other." + +"It would be impossible, I know," replied Elinor, "to convince you +that a woman of seven and twenty could feel for a man of thirty-five +anything near enough to love, to make him a desirable companion to +her. But I must object to your dooming Colonel Brandon and his wife to +the constant confinement of a sick chamber, merely because he chanced +to complain yesterday (a very cold damp day) of a slight rheumatic +feel in one of his shoulders." + +"But he talked of flannel waistcoats," said Marianne; "and with me a +flannel waistcoat is invariably connected with aches, cramps, +rheumatisms, and every species of ailment that can afflict the old and +the feeble." + +"Had he been only in a violent fever, you would not have despised him +half so much. Confess, Marianne, is not there something interesting to +you in the flushed cheek, hollow eye, and quick pulse of a fever?" + +Soon after this, upon Elinor's leaving the room, "Mamma," said +Marianne, "I have an alarm on the subject of illness which I cannot +conceal from you. I am sure Edward Ferrars is not well. We have now +been here almost a fortnight, and yet he does not come. Nothing but +real indisposition could occasion this extraordinary delay. What else +can detain him at Norland?" + +"Had you any idea of his coming so soon?" said Mrs. Dashwood. "I had +none. On the contrary, if I have felt any anxiety at all on the +subject, it has been in recollecting that he sometimes showed a want +of pleasure and readiness in accepting my invitation, when I talked of +his coming to Barton. Does Elinor expect him already?" + +"I have never mentioned it to her, but of course she must." + +"I rather think you are mistaken, for when I was talking to her +yesterday of getting a new grate for the spare bed-chamber, she +observed that there was no immediate hurry for it, as it was not +likely that the room would be wanted for some time." + +"How strange this is! what can be the meaning of it! But the whole of +their behaviour to each other has been unaccountable! How cold, how +composed were their last adieus! How languid their conversation the +last evening of their being together! In Edward's farewell there was +no distinction between Elinor and me: it was the good wishes of an +affectionate brother to both. Twice did I leave them purposely +together in the course of the last morning, and each time did he most +unaccountably follow me out of the room. And Elinor, in quitting +Norland and Edward, cried not as I did. Even now her self-command is +invariable. When is she dejected or melancholy? When does she try to +avoid society, or appear restless and dissatisfied in it?" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The Dashwoods were now settled at Barton with tolerable comfort to +themselves. The house and the garden, with all the objects surrounding +them, were now become familiar, and the ordinary pursuits which had +given to Norland half its charms were engaged in again with far +greater enjoyment than Norland had been able to afford, since the loss +of their father. Sir John Middleton, who called on them every day for +the first fortnight, and who was not in the habit of seeing much +occupation at home, could not conceal his amazement on finding them +always employed. + +Their visitors, except those from Barton Park, were not many; for, in +spite of Sir John's urgent entreaties that they would mix more in the +neighbourhood, and repeated assurances of his carriage being always at +their service, the independence of Mrs. Dashwood's spirit overcame the +wish of society for her children; and she was resolute in declining to +visit any family beyond the distance of a walk. There were but few who +could be so classed; and it was not all of them that were attainable. +About a mile and a half from the cottage, along the narrow winding +valley of Allenham, which issued from that of Barton, as formerly +described, the girls had, in one of their earliest walks, discovered +an ancient respectable looking mansion which, by reminding them a +little of Norland, interested their imagination and made them wish to +be better acquainted with it. But they learnt, on enquiry, that its +possessor, an elderly lady of very good character, was unfortunately +too infirm to mix with the world, and never stirred from home. + +The whole country about them abounded in beautiful walks. The high +downs which invited them from almost every window of the cottage to +seek the exquisite enjoyment of air on their summits, were a happy +alternative when the dirt of the valleys beneath shut up their +superior beauties; and towards one of these hills did Marianne and +Margaret one memorable morning direct their steps, attracted by the +partial sunshine of a showery sky, and unable longer to bear the +confinement which the settled rain of the two preceding days had +occasioned. The weather was not tempting enough to draw the two others +from their pencil and their book, in spite of Marianne's declaration +that the day would be lastingly fair, and that every threatening cloud +would be drawn off from their hills; and the two girls set off +together. + +They gaily ascended the downs, rejoicing in their own penetration at +every glimpse of blue sky; and when they caught in their faces the +animating gales of a high south-westerly wind, they pitied the fears +which had prevented their mother and Elinor from sharing such +delightful sensations. + +"Is there a felicity in the world," said Marianne, "superior to +this?--Margaret, we will walk here at least two hours." + +Margaret agreed, and they pursued their way against the wind, +resisting it with laughing delight for about twenty minutes longer, +when suddenly the clouds united over their heads, and a driving rain +set full in their face. Chagrined and surprised, they were obliged, +though unwillingly, to turn back, for no shelter was nearer than their +own house. One consolation however remained for them, to which the +exigence of the moment gave more than usual propriety,--it was that of +running with all possible speed down the steep side of the hill which +led immediately to their garden gate. + +They set off. Marianne had at first the advantage, but a false step +brought her suddenly to the ground; and Margaret, unable to stop +herself to assist her, was involuntarily hurried along, and reached +the bottom in safety. + +A gentleman carrying a gun, with two pointers playing round him, was +passing up the hill and within a few yards of Marianne, when her +accident happened. He put down his gun and ran to her assistance. She +had raised herself from the ground, but her foot had been twisted in +her fall, and she was scarcely able to stand. The gentleman offered +his services; and perceiving that her modesty declined what her +situation rendered necessary, took her up in his arms without farther +delay, and carried her down the hill. Then passing through the garden, +the gate of which had been left open by Margaret, he bore her directly +into the house, whither Margaret was just arrived, and quitted not his +hold till he had seated her in a chair in the parlour. + +Elinor and her mother rose up in amazement at their entrance, and +while the eyes of both were fixed on him with an evident wonder and a +secret admiration which equally sprung from his appearance, he +apologized for his intrusion by relating its cause, in a manner so +frank and so graceful that his person, which was uncommonly handsome, +received additional charms from his voice and expression. Had he been +even old, ugly, and vulgar, the gratitude and kindness of Mrs. +Dashwood would have been secured by any act of attention to her child; +but the influence of youth, beauty, and elegance, gave an interest to +the action which came home to her feelings. + +She thanked him again and again; and, with a sweetness of address +which always attended her, invited him to be seated. But this he +declined, as he was dirty and wet. Mrs. Dashwood then begged to know +to whom she was obliged. His name, he replied, was Willoughby, and his +present home was at Allenham, from whence he hoped she would allow him +the honour of calling tomorrow to enquire after Miss Dashwood. The +honour was readily granted, and he then departed, to make himself +still more interesting, in the midst of a heavy rain. + +His manly beauty and more than common gracefulness were instantly the +theme of general admiration, and the laugh which his gallantry raised +against Marianne received particular spirit from his exterior +attractions. Marianne herself had seen less of his person than the +rest, for the confusion which crimsoned over her face, on his lifting +her up, had robbed her of the power of regarding him after their +entering the house. But she had seen enough of him to join in all the +admiration of the others, and with an energy which always adorned her +praise. His person and air were equal to what her fancy had ever drawn +for the hero of a favourite story; and in his carrying her into the +house with so little previous formality, there was a rapidity of +thought which particularly recommended the action to her. Every +circumstance belonging to him was interesting. His name was good, his +residence was in their favourite village, and she soon found out that +of all manly dresses a shooting-jacket was the most becoming. Her +imagination was busy, her reflections were pleasant, and the pain of a +sprained ankle was disregarded. + +Sir John called on them as soon as the next interval of fair weather +that morning allowed him to get out of doors; and Marianne's accident +being related to him, he was eagerly asked whether he knew any +gentleman of the name of Willoughby at Allenham. + +"Willoughby!" cried Sir John; "what, is _he_ in the country? That is +good news however; I will ride over tomorrow, and ask him to dinner on +Thursday." + +"You know him then," said Mrs. Dashwood. + +"Know him! to be sure I do. Why, he is down here every year." + +"And what sort of a young man is he?" + +"As good a kind of fellow as ever lived, I assure you. A very decent +shot, and there is not a bolder rider in England." + +"And is that all you can say for him?" cried Marianne, indignantly. +"But what are his manners on more intimate acquaintance? What his +pursuits, his talents, and genius?" + +Sir John was rather puzzled. + +"Upon my soul," said he, "I do not know much about him as to all +_that._ But he is a pleasant, good humoured fellow, and has got the +nicest little black bitch of a pointer I ever saw. Was she out with +him today?" + +But Marianne could no more satisfy him as to the colour of Mr. +Willoughby's pointer, than he could describe to her the shades of his +mind. + +"But who is he?" said Elinor. "Where does he come from? Has he a house +at Allenham?" + +On this point Sir John could give more certain intelligence; and he +told them that Mr. Willoughby had no property of his own in the +country; that he resided there only while he was visiting the old lady +at Allenham Court, to whom he was related, and whose possessions he +was to inherit; adding, "Yes, yes, he is very well worth catching I +can tell you, Miss Dashwood; he has a pretty little estate of his own +in Somersetshire besides; and if I were you, I would not give him up +to my younger sister, in spite of all this tumbling down hills. Miss +Marianne must not expect to have all the men to herself. Brandon will +be jealous, if she does not take care." + +"I do not believe," said Mrs. Dashwood, with a good humoured smile, +"that Mr. Willoughby will be incommoded by the attempts of either of +_my_ daughters towards what you call _catching him._ It is not an +employment to which they have been brought up. Men are very safe with +us, let them be ever so rich. I am glad to find, however, from what +you say, that he is a respectable young man, and one whose +acquaintance will not be ineligible." + +"He is as good a sort of fellow, I believe, as ever lived," repeated +Sir John. "I remember last Christmas at a little hop at the park, he +danced from eight o'clock till four, without once sitting down." + +"Did he indeed?" cried Marianne with sparkling eyes, "and with +elegance, with spirit?" + +"Yes; and he was up again at eight to ride to covert." + +"That is what I like; that is what a young man ought to be. Whatever +be his pursuits, his eagerness in them should know no moderation, and +leave him no sense of fatigue." + +"Aye, aye, I see how it will be," said Sir John, "I see how it will +be. You will be setting your cap at him now, and never think of poor +Brandon." + +"That is an expression, Sir John," said Marianne, warmly, "which I +particularly dislike. I abhor every common-place phrase by which wit +is intended; and 'setting one's cap at a man,' or 'making a conquest,' +are the most odious of all. Their tendency is gross and illiberal; and +if their construction could ever be deemed clever, time has long ago +destroyed all its ingenuity." + +Sir John did not much understand this reproof; but he laughed as +heartily as if he did, and then replied-- + +"Ay, you will make conquests enough, I dare say, one way or other. +Poor Brandon! he is quite smitten already, and he is very well worth +setting your cap at, I can tell you, in spite of all this tumbling +about and spraining of ankles." + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Marianne's preserver, as Margaret, with more elegance than precision, +styled Willoughby, called at the cottage early the next morning to +make his personal enquiries. He was received by Mrs. Dashwood with +more than politeness; with a kindness which Sir John's account of him +and her own gratitude prompted; and every thing that passed during the +visit tended to assure him of the sense, elegance, mutual affection, +and domestic comfort of the family to whom accident had now introduced +him. Of their personal charms he had not required a second interview +to be convinced. + +Miss Dashwood had a delicate complexion, regular features, and a +remarkably pretty figure. Marianne was still handsomer. Her form, +though not so correct as her sister's, in having the advantage of +height, was more striking; and her face was so lovely, that when in +the common cant of praise, she was called a beautiful girl, truth was +less violently outraged than usually happens. Her skin was very brown, +but, from its transparency, her complexion was uncommonly brilliant; +her features were all good; her smile was sweet and attractive; and in +her eyes, which were very dark, there was a life, a spirit, an +eagerness, which could hardily be seen without delight. From +Willoughby their expression was at first held back, by the +embarrassment which the remembrance of his assistance created. But +when this passed away, when her spirits became collected, when she saw +that to the perfect good-breeding of the gentleman, he united +frankness and vivacity, and above all, when she heard him declare, +that of music and dancing he was passionately fond, she gave him such +a look of approbation as secured the largest share of his discourse to +herself for the rest of his stay. + +It was only necessary to mention any favourite amusement to engage her +to talk. She could not be silent when such points were introduced, and +she had neither shyness nor reserve in their discussion. They speedily +discovered that their enjoyment of dancing and music was mutual, and +that it arose from a general conformity of judgment in all that +related to either. Encouraged by this to a further examination of his +opinions, she proceeded to question him on the subject of books; her +favourite authors were brought forward and dwelt upon with so +rapturous a delight, that any young man of five and twenty must have +been insensible indeed, not to become an immediate convert to the +excellence of such works, however disregarded before. Their taste was +strikingly alike. The same books, the same passages were idolized by +each; or if any difference appeared, any objection arose, it lasted no +longer than till the force of her arguments and the brightness of her +eyes could be displayed. He acquiesced in all her decisions, caught +all her enthusiasm; and long before his visit concluded, they +conversed with the familiarity of a long-established acquaintance. + +"Well, Marianne," said Elinor, as soon as he had left them, "for _one_ +morning I think you have done pretty well. You have already +ascertained Mr. Willoughby's opinion in almost every matter of +importance. You know what he thinks of Cowper and Scott; you are +certain of his estimating their beauties as he ought, and you have +received every assurance of his admiring Pope no more than is proper. +But how is your acquaintance to be long supported, under such +extraordinary despatch of every subject for discourse? You will soon +have exhausted each favourite topic. Another meeting will suffice to +explain his sentiments on picturesque beauty, and second marriages, +and then you can have nothing farther to ask." + +"Elinor," cried Marianne, "is this fair? is this just? are my ideas so +scanty? But I see what you mean. I have been too much at my ease, too +happy, too frank. I have erred against every common-place notion of +decorum; I have been open and sincere where I ought to have been +reserved, spiritless, dull, and deceitful:--had I talked only of the +weather and the roads, and had I spoken only once in ten minutes, this +reproach would have been spared." + +"My love," said her mother, "you must not be offended with Elinor--she +was only in jest. I should scold her myself, if she were capable of +wishing to check the delight of your conversation with our new +friend." Marianne was softened in a moment. + +Willoughby, on his side, gave every proof of his pleasure in their +acquaintance, which an evident wish of improving it could offer. He +came to them every day. To enquire after Marianne was at first his +excuse; but the encouragement of his reception, to which every day +gave greater kindness, made such an excuse unnecessary before it had +ceased to be possible, by Marianne's perfect recovery. She was +confined for some days to the house; but never had any confinement +been less irksome. Willoughby was a young man of good abilities, quick +imagination, lively spirits, and open, affectionate manners. He was +exactly formed to engage Marianne's heart, for with all this, he +joined not only a captivating person, but a natural ardour of mind +which was now roused and increased by the example of her own, and +which recommended him to her affection beyond every thing else. + +His society became gradually her most exquisite enjoyment. They read, +they talked, they sang together; his musical talents were +considerable; and he read with all the sensibility and spirit which +Edward had unfortunately wanted. + +In Mrs. Dashwood's estimation he was as faultless as in Marianne's; +and Elinor saw nothing to censure in him but a propensity, in which he +strongly resembled and peculiarly delighted her sister, of saying too +much what he thought on every occasion, without attention to persons +or circumstances. In hastily forming and giving his opinion of other +people, in sacrificing general politeness to the enjoyment of +undivided attention where his heart was engaged, and in slighting too +easily the forms of worldly propriety, he displayed a want of caution +which Elinor could not approve, in spite of all that he and Marianne +could say in its support. + +Marianne began now to perceive that the desperation which had seized +her at sixteen and a half, of ever seeing a man who could satisfy her +ideas of perfection, had been rash and unjustifiable. Willoughby was +all that her fancy had delineated in that unhappy hour and in every +brighter period, as capable of attaching her; and his behaviour +declared his wishes to be in that respect as earnest, as his abilities +were strong. + +[Illustration: _They sang together._] + +Her mother too, in whose mind not one speculative thought of their +marriage had been raised, by his prospect of riches, was led before +the end of a week to hope and expect it; and secretly to congratulate +herself on having gained two such sons-in-law as Edward and +Willoughby. + +Colonel Brandon's partiality for Marianne, which had so +early been discovered by his friends, now first became perceptible to +Elinor, when it ceased to be noticed by them. Their attention and wit +were drawn off to his more fortunate rival; and the raillery which the +other had incurred before any partiality arose, was removed when his +feelings began really to call for the ridicule so justly annexed to +sensibility. Elinor was obliged, though unwillingly, to believe that +the sentiments which Mrs. Jennings had assigned him for her own +satisfaction, were now actually excited by her sister; and that +however a general resemblance of disposition between the parties might +forward the affection of Mr. Willoughby, an equally striking +opposition of character was no hindrance to the regard of Colonel +Brandon. She saw it with concern; for what could a silent man of five +and thirty hope, when opposed to a very lively one of five and twenty? +and as she could not even wish him successful, she heartily wished him +indifferent. She liked him--in spite of his gravity and reserve, she +beheld in him an object of interest. His manners, though serious, were +mild; and his reserve appeared rather the result of some oppression of +spirits than of any natural gloominess of temper. Sir John had dropped +hints of past injuries and disappointments, which justified her belief +of his being an unfortunate man, and she regarded him with respect and +compassion. + +Perhaps she pitied and esteemed him the more because he was slighted +by Willoughby and Marianne, who, prejudiced against him for being +neither lively nor young, seemed resolved to undervalue his merits. + +"Brandon is just the kind of man," said Willoughby one day, when they +were talking of him together, "whom every body speaks well of, and +nobody cares about; whom all are delighted to see, and nobody +remembers to talk to." + +"That is exactly what I think of him," cried Marianne. + +"Do not boast of it, however," said Elinor, "for it is injustice in +both of you. He is highly esteemed by all the family at the park, and +I never see him myself without taking pains to converse with him." + +"That he is patronised by _you_," replied Willoughby, "is certainly in +his favour; but as for the esteem of the others, it is a reproach in +itself. Who would submit to the indignity of being approved by such a +woman as Lady Middleton and Mrs. Jennings, that could command the +indifference of any body else?" + +"But perhaps the abuse of such people as yourself and Marianne will +make amends for the regard of Lady Middleton and her mother. If their +praise is censure, your censure may be praise, for they are not more +undiscerning, than you are prejudiced and unjust." + +"In defence of your _protégé_ you can even be saucy." + +"My _protégé_, as you call him, is a sensible man; and sense will +always have attractions for me. Yes, Marianne, even in a man between +thirty and forty. He has seen a great deal of the world; has been +abroad, has read, and has a thinking mind. I have found him capable of +giving me much information on various subjects; and he has always +answered my inquiries with readiness of good-breeding and good +nature." + +"That is to say," cried Marianne contemptuously, "he has told you, +that in the East Indies the climate is hot, and the mosquitoes are +troublesome." + +"He _would_ have told me so, I doubt not, had I made any such +inquiries, but they happened to be points on which I had been +previously informed." + +"Perhaps," said Willoughby, "his observations may have extended to the +existence of nabobs, gold mohrs, and palanquins." + +"I may venture to say that _his_ observations have stretched much +further than _your_ candour. But why should you dislike him?" + +"I do not dislike him. I consider him, on the contrary, as a very +respectable man, who has every body's good word, and nobody's notice; +who, has more money than he can spend, more time than he knows how to +employ, and two new coats every year." + +"Add to which," cried Marianne, "that he has neither genius, taste, +nor spirit. That his understanding has no brilliancy, his feelings no +ardour, and his voice no expression." + +"You decide on his imperfections so much in the mass," replied Elinor, +"and so much on the strength of your own imagination, that the +commendation I am able to give of him is comparatively cold and +insipid. I can only pronounce him to be a sensible man, well-bred, +well-informed, of gentle address, and, I believe, possessing an +amiable heart." + +"Miss Dashwood," cried Willoughby, "you are now using me unkindly. You +are endeavouring to disarm me by reason, and to convince me against my +will. But it will not do. You shall find me as stubborn as you can be +artful. I have three unanswerable reasons for disliking Colonel +Brandon; he threatened me with rain when I wanted it to be fine; he +has found fault with the hanging of my curricle, and I cannot persuade +him to buy my brown mare. If it will be any satisfaction to you, +however, to be told, that I believe his character to be in other +respects irreproachable, I am ready to confess it. And in return for +an acknowledgment, which must give me some pain, you cannot deny me +the privilege of disliking him as much as ever." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Little had Mrs. Dashwood or her daughters imagined when they first +came into Devonshire, that so many engagements would arise to occupy +their time as shortly presented themselves, or that they should have +such frequent invitations and such constant visitors as to leave them +little leisure for serious employment. Yet such was the case. When +Marianne was recovered, the schemes of amusement at home and abroad, +which Sir John had been previously forming, were put into execution. +The private balls at the park then began; and parties on the water +were made and accomplished as often as a showery October would allow. +In every meeting of the kind Willoughby was included; and the ease and +familiarity which naturally attended these parties were exactly +calculated to give increasing intimacy to his acquaintance with the +Dashwoods, to afford him opportunity of witnessing the excellencies of +Marianne, of marking his animated admiration of her, and of receiving, +in her behaviour to himself, the most pointed assurance of her +affection. + +Elinor could not be surprised at their attachment. She only wished +that it were less openly shown; and once or twice did venture to +suggest the propriety of some self-command to Marianne. But Marianne +abhorred all concealment where no real disgrace could attend +unreserve; and to aim at the restraint of sentiments which were not in +themselves illaudable, appeared to her not merely an unnecessary +effort, but a disgraceful subjection of reason to common-place and +mistaken notions. Willoughby thought the same; and their behaviour at +all times, was an illustration of their opinions. + +When he was present she had no eyes for any one else. Every thing he +did, was right. Every thing he said, was clever. If their evenings at +the park were concluded with cards, he cheated himself and all the +rest of the party to get her a good hand. If dancing formed the +amusement of the night, they were partners for half the time; and when +obliged to separate for a couple of dances, were careful to stand +together and scarcely spoke a word to any body else. Such conduct made +them of course most exceedingly laughed at; but ridicule could not +shame, and seemed hardly to provoke them. + +Mrs. Dashwood entered into all their feelings with a warmth which left +her no inclination for checking this excessive display of them. To her +it was but the natural consequence of a strong affection in a young +and ardent mind. + +This was the season of happiness to Marianne. Her heart was devoted to +Willoughby, and the fond attachment to Norland, which she brought with +her from Sussex, was more likely to be softened than she had thought +it possible before, by the charms which his society bestowed on her +present home. + +Elinor's happiness was not so great. Her heart was not so much at +ease, nor her satisfaction in their amusements so pure. They afforded +her no companion that could make amends for what she had left behind, +nor that could teach her to think of Norland with less regret than +ever. Neither Lady Middleton nor Mrs. Jennings could supply to her the +conversation she missed; although the latter was an everlasting +talker, and from the first had regarded her with a kindness which +ensured her a large share of her discourse. She had already repeated +her own history to Elinor three or four times; and had Elinor's memory +been equal to her means of improvement, she might have known very +early in their acquaintance all the particulars of Mr. Jennings's last +illness, and what he said to his wife a few minutes before he died. +Lady Middleton was more agreeable than her mother only in being more +silent. Elinor needed little observation to perceive that her reserve +was a mere calmness of manner with which sense had nothing to do. +Towards her husband and mother she was the same as to them; and +intimacy was therefore neither to be looked for nor desired. She had +nothing to say one day that she had not said the day before. Her +insipidity was invariable, for even her spirits were always the same; +and though she did not oppose the parties arranged by her husband, +provided every thing were conducted in style and her two eldest +children attended her, she never appeared to receive more enjoyment +from them than she might have experienced in sitting at home; and so +little did her presence add to the pleasure of the others, by any +share in their conversation, that they were sometimes only reminded of +her being amongst them by her solicitude about her troublesome boys. + +In Colonel Brandon alone, of all her new acquaintance, did Elinor find +a person who could in any degree claim the respect of abilities, +excite the interest of friendship, or give pleasure as a companion. +Willoughby was out of the question. Her admiration and regard, even +her sisterly regard, was all his own; but he was a lover; his +attentions were wholly Marianne's, and a far less agreeable man might +have been more generally pleasing. Colonel Brandon, unfortunately for +himself, had no such encouragement to think only of Marianne, and in +conversing with Elinor he found the greatest consolation for the +indifference of her sister. + +Elinor's compassion for him increased, as she had reason to suspect +that the misery of disappointed love had already been known to him. +This suspicion was given by some words which accidentally dropped from +him one evening at the park, when they were sitting down together by +mutual consent, while the others were dancing. His eyes were fixed on +Marianne, and, after a silence of some minutes, he said, with a faint +smile, "Your sister, I understand, does not approve of second +attachments." + +"No," replied Elinor, "her opinions are all romantic." + +"Or rather, as I believe, she considers them impossible to exist." + +"I believe she does. But how she contrives it without reflecting on +the character of her own father, who had himself two wives, I know +not. A few years however will settle her opinions on the reasonable +basis of common sense and observation; and then they may be more easy +to define and to justify than they now are, by any body but herself." + +"This will probably be the case," he replied; "and yet there is +something so amiable in the prejudices of a young mind, that one is +sorry to see them give way to the reception of more general opinions." + +"I cannot agree with you there," said Elinor. "There are +inconveniences attending such feelings as Marianne's, which all the +charms of enthusiasm and ignorance of the world cannot atone for. Her +systems have all the unfortunate tendency of setting propriety at +nought; and a better acquaintance with the world is what I look +forward to as her greatest possible advantage." + +After a short pause he resumed the conversation by saying-- + +"Does your sister make no distinction in her objections against a +second attachment? or is it equally criminal in every body? Are those +who have been disappointed in their first choice, whether from the +inconstancy of its object, or the perverseness of circumstances, to be +equally indifferent during the rest of their lives?" + +"Upon my word, I am not acquainted with the minutiæ of her principles. +I only know that I never yet heard her admit any instance of a second +attachment's being pardonable." + +"This," said he, "cannot hold; but a change, a total change of +sentiments--No, no, do not desire it; for when the romantic +refinements of a young mind are obliged to give way, how frequently +are they succeeded by such opinions as are but too common, and too +dangerous! I speak from experience. I once knew a lady who in temper +and mind greatly resembled your sister, who thought and judged like +her, but who from an enforced change--from a series of unfortunate +circumstances--" Here he stopped suddenly; appeared to think that he +had said too much, and by his countenance gave rise to conjectures, +which might not otherwise have entered Elinor's head. The lady would +probably have passed without suspicion, had he not convinced Miss +Dashwood that what concerned her ought not to escape his lips. As it +was, it required but a slight effort of fancy to connect his emotion +with the tender recollection of past regard. Elinor attempted no more. +But Marianne, in her place, would not have done so little. The whole +story would have been speedily formed under her active imagination; +and every thing established in the most melancholy order of disastrous +love. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +As Elinor and Marianne were walking together the next morning the +latter communicated a piece of news to her sister, which in spite of +all that she knew before of Marianne's imprudence and want of thought, +surprised her by its extravagant testimony of both. Marianne told her, +with the greatest delight, that Willoughby had given her a horse, one +that he had bred himself on his estate in Somersetshire, and which was +exactly calculated to carry a woman. Without considering that it was +not in her mother's plan to keep any horse, that if she were to alter +her resolution in favour of this gift, she must buy another for the +servant, and keep a servant to ride it, and after all, build a stable +to receive them, she had accepted the present without hesitation, and +told her sister of it in raptures. + +"He intends to send his groom into Somersetshire immediately for it," +she added, "and when it arrives we will ride every day. You shall +share its use with me. Imagine to yourself, my dear Elinor, the +delight of a gallop on some of these downs." + +Most unwilling was she to awaken from such a dream of felicity to +comprehend all the unhappy truths which attended the affair; and for +some time she refused to submit to them. As to an additional servant, +the expense would be a trifle; Mamma she was sure would never object +to it; and any horse would do for _him_; he might always get one at +the park; as to a stable, the merest shed would be sufficient. Elinor +then ventured to doubt the propriety of her receiving such a present +from a man so little, or at least so lately known to her. This was too +much. + +"You are mistaken, Elinor," said she warmly, "in supposing I know very +little of Willoughby. I have not known him long indeed, but I am much +better acquainted with him, than I am with any other creature in the +world, except yourself and mama. It is not time or opportunity that is +to determine intimacy; it is disposition alone. Seven years would be +insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven +days are more than enough for others. I should hold myself guilty of +greater impropriety in accepting a horse from my brother, than from +Willoughby. Of John I know very little, though we have lived together +for years; but of Willoughby my judgment has long been formed." + +Elinor thought it wisest to touch that point no more. She knew her +sister's temper. Opposition on so tender a subject would only attach +her the more to her own opinion. But by an appeal to her affection for +her mother, by representing the inconveniences which that indulgent +mother must draw on herself, if (as would probably be the case) she +consented to this increase of establishment, Marianne was shortly +subdued; and she promised not to tempt her mother to such imprudent +kindness by mentioning the offer, and to tell Willoughby when she saw +him next, that it must be declined. + +She was faithful to her word; and when Willoughby called at the +cottage, the same day, Elinor heard her express her disappointment to +him in a low voice, on being obliged to forego the acceptance of his +present. The reasons for this alteration were at the same time +related, and they were such as to make further entreaty on his side +impossible. His concern however was very apparent; and after +expressing it with earnestness, he added, in the same low voice, "But, +Marianne, the horse is still yours, though you cannot use it now. I +shall keep it only till you can claim it. When you leave Barton to +form your own establishment in a more lasting home, Queen Mab shall +receive you." + +This was all overheard by Miss Dashwood; and in the whole of the +sentence, in his manner of pronouncing it, and in his addressing her +sister by her Christian name alone, she instantly saw an intimacy so +decided, a meaning so direct, as marked a perfect agreement between +them. From that moment she doubted not of their being engaged to each +other; and the belief of it created no other surprise than that she, +or any of their friends, should be left by tempers so frank, to +discover it by accident. + +Margaret related something to her the next day, which placed this +matter in a still clearer light. Willoughby had spent the preceding +evening with them, and Margaret, by being left some time in the +parlour with only him and Marianne, had had opportunity for +observations, which, with a most important face, she communicated to +her eldest sister, when they were next by themselves. + +"Oh, Elinor!" she cried, "I have such a secret to tell you about +Marianne. I am sure she will be married to Mr. Willoughby very soon." + +"You have said so," replied Elinor, "almost every day since they first +met on High-church Down; and they had not known each other a week, I +believe, before you were certain that Marianne wore his picture round +her neck; but it turned out to be only the miniature of our great +uncle." + +"But indeed this is quite another thing. I am sure they will be +married very soon, for he has got a lock of her hair." + +"Take care, Margaret. It may be only the hair of some great uncle of +_his_." + +"But, indeed, Elinor, it is Marianne's. I am almost sure it is, for I +saw him cut it off. Last night after tea, when you and mama went out +of the room, they were whispering and talking together as fast as +could be, and he seemed to be begging something of her, and presently +he took up her scissors and cut off a long lock of her hair, for it +was all tumbled down her back; and he kissed it, and folded it up in a +piece of white paper; and put it into his pocket-book." + +For such particulars, stated on such authority, Elinor could not +withhold her credit; nor was she disposed to it, for the circumstance +was in perfect unison with what she had heard and seen herself. + +Margaret's sagacity was not always displayed in a way so satisfactory +to her sister. When Mrs. Jennings attacked her one evening at the +park, to give the name of the young man who was Elinor's particular +favourite, which had been long a matter of great curiosity to her, +Margaret answered by looking at her sister, and saying, "I must not +tell, may I, Elinor?" + +This of course made every body laugh; and Elinor tried to laugh too. +But the effort was painful. She was convinced that Margaret had fixed +on a person whose name she could not bear with composure to become a +standing joke with Mrs. Jennings. + +[Illustration: _He cut off a long lock of her hair._] + +Marianne felt for her most sincerely; but she did more harm than good +to the cause, by turning very red and saying in an angry manner to +Margaret-- + +"Remember that whatever your conjectures may be, you have no right to +repeat them." + +"I never had any conjectures about it," replied Margaret; "it was you +who told me of it yourself." + +This increased the mirth of the company, and Margaret was eagerly +pressed to say something more. + +"Oh! pray, Miss Margaret, let us know all about it," said Mrs. +Jennings. "What is the gentleman's name?" + +"I must not tell, ma'am. But I know very well what it is; and I know +where he is too." + +"Yes, yes, we can guess where he is; at his own house at Norland to be +sure. He is the curate of the parish I dare say." + +"No, _that_ he is not. He is of no profession at all." + +"Margaret," said Marianne with great warmth, "you know that all this +is an invention of your own, and that there is no such person in +existence." + +"Well, then, he is lately dead, Marianne, for I am sure there was such +a man once, and his name begins with an F." + +Most grateful did Elinor feel to Lady Middleton for observing, at this +moment, "that it rained very hard," though she believed the +interruption to proceed less from any attention to her, than from her +ladyship's great dislike of all such inelegant subjects of raillery as +delighted her husband and mother. The idea however started by her, was +immediately pursued by Colonel Brandon, who was on every occasion +mindful of the feelings of others; and much was said on the subject of +rain by both of them. Willoughby opened the piano-forte, and asked +Marianne to sit down to it; and thus amidst the various endeavours of +different people to quit the topic, it fell to the ground. But not so +easily did Elinor recover from the alarm into which it had thrown her. + +A party was formed this evening for going on the following day to see +a very fine place about twelve miles from Barton, belonging to a +brother-in-law of Colonel Brandon, without whose interest it could not +be seen, as the proprietor, who was then abroad, had left strict +orders on that head. The grounds were declared to be highly beautiful, +and Sir John, who was particularly warm in their praise, might be +allowed to be a tolerable judge, for he had formed parties to visit +them, at least, twice every summer for the last ten years. They +contained a noble piece of water--a sail on which was to a form a +great part of the morning's amusement; cold provisions were to be +taken, open carriages only to be employed, and every thing conducted +in the usual style of a complete party of pleasure. + +To some few of the company it appeared rather a bold undertaking, +considering the time of year, and that it had rained every day for the +last fortnight; and Mrs. Dashwood, who had already a cold, was +persuaded by Elinor to stay at home. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Their intended excursion to Whitwell turned out very different from +what Elinor had expected. She was prepared to be wet through, +fatigued, and frightened; but the event was still more unfortunate, +for they did not go at all. + +By ten o'clock the whole party was assembled at the park, where they +were to breakfast. The morning was rather favourable, though it had +rained all night, as the clouds were then dispersing across the sky, +and the sun frequently appeared. They were all in high spirits and +good humour, eager to be happy, and determined to submit to the +greatest inconveniences and hardships rather than be otherwise. + +While they were at breakfast the letters were brought in. Among the +rest there was one for Colonel Brandon:--he took it, looked at the +direction, changed colour, and immediately left the room. + +"What is the matter with Brandon?" said Sir John. + +Nobody could tell. + +"I hope he has had no bad news," said Lady Middleton. "It must be +something extraordinary that could make Colonel Brandon leave my +breakfast table so suddenly." + +In about five minutes he returned. + +"No bad news, Colonel, I hope;" said Mrs. Jennings, as soon as he +entered the room. + +"None at all, ma'am, I thank you." + +"Was it from Avignon? I hope it is not to say that your sister is +worse." + +"No, ma'am. It came from town, and is merely a letter of business." + +"But how came the hand to discompose you so much, if it was only a +letter of business? Come, come, this won't do, Colonel; so let us hear +the truth of it." + +"My dear madam," said Lady Middleton, "recollect what you are saying." + +"Perhaps it is to tell you that your cousin Fanny is married?" said +Mrs. Jennings, without attending to her daughter's reproof. + +"No, indeed, it is not." + +"Well, then, I know who it is from, Colonel. And I hope she is well." + +"Whom do you mean, ma'am?" said he, colouring a little. + +"Oh! you know who I mean." + +"I am particularly sorry, ma'am," said he, addressing Lady Middleton, +"that I should receive this letter today, for it is on business which +requires my immediate attendance in town." + +"In town!" cried Mrs. Jennings. "What can you have to do in town at +this time of year?" + +"My own loss is great," he continued, "in being obliged to leave so +agreeable a party; but I am the more concerned, as I fear my presence +is necessary to gain your admittance at Whitwell." + +What a blow upon them all was this! + +"But if you write a note to the housekeeper, Mr. Brandon," said +Marianne, eagerly, "will it not be sufficient?" + +He shook his head. + +"We must go," said Sir John. "It shall not be put off when we are so +near it. You cannot go to town till tomorrow, Brandon, that is all." + +"I wish it could be so easily settled. But it is not in my power to +delay my journey for one day!" + +"If you would but let us know what your business is," said Mrs. +Jennings, "we might see whether it could be put off or not." + +"You would not be six hours later," said Willoughby, "if you were to +defer your journey till our return." + +"I cannot afford to lose _one_ hour." + +Elinor then heard Willoughby say, in a low voice to Marianne, "There +are some people who cannot bear a party of pleasure. Brandon is one of +them. He was afraid of catching cold I dare say, and invented this +trick for getting out of it. I would lay fifty guineas the letter was +of his own writing." + +"I have no doubt of it," replied Marianne. + +"There is no persuading you to change your mind, Brandon, I know of +old," said Sir John, "when once you are determined on anything. But, +however, I hope you will think better of it. Consider, here are the +two Miss Careys come over from Newton, the three Miss Dashwoods walked +up from the cottage, and Mr. Willoughby got up two hours before his +usual time, on purpose to go to Whitwell." + +Colonel Brandon again repeated his sorrow at being the cause of +disappointing the party; but at the same time declared it to be +unavoidable. + +"Well, then, when will you come back again?" + +"I hope we shall see you at Barton," added her ladyship, "as soon as +you can conveniently leave town; and we must put off the party to +Whitwell till you return." + +"You are very obliging. But it is so uncertain, when I may have it in +my power to return, that I dare not engage for it at all." + +"Oh! he must and shall come back," cried Sir John. "If he is not here +by the end of the week, I shall go after him." + +"Ay, so do, Sir John," cried Mrs. Jennings, "and then perhaps you may +find out what his business is." + +"I do not want to pry into other men's concerns. I suppose it is +something he is ashamed of." + +Colonel Brandon's horses were announced. + +"You do not go to town on horseback, do you?" added Sir John. + +"No. Only to Honiton. I shall then go post." + +"Well, as you are resolved to go, I wish you a good journey. But you +had better change your mind." + +"I assure you it is not in my power." + +He then took leave of the whole party. + +"Is there no chance of my seeing you and your sisters in town this +winter, Miss Dashwood?" + +"I am afraid, none at all." + +"Then I must bid you farewell for a longer time than I should wish to +do." + +To Marianne, he merely bowed and said nothing. + +"Come Colonel," said Mrs. Jennings, "before you go, do let us know +what you are going about." + +He wished her a good morning, and, attended by Sir John, left the +room. + +The complaints and lamentations which politeness had hitherto +restrained, now burst forth universally; and they all agreed again and +again how provoking it was to be so disappointed. + +"I can guess what his business is, however," said Mrs. Jennings +exultingly. + +"Can you, ma'am?" said almost every body. + +"Yes; it is about Miss Williams, I am sure." + +"And who is Miss Williams?" asked Marianne. + +"What! do not you know who Miss Williams is? I am sure you must have +heard of her before. She is a relation of the Colonel's, my dear; a +very near relation. We will not say how near, for fear of shocking the +young ladies." Then, lowering her voice a little, she said to Elinor, +"She is his natural daughter." + +"Indeed!" + +"Oh, yes; and as like him as she can stare. I dare say the Colonel +will leave her all his fortune." + +When Sir John returned, he joined most heartily in the general regret +on so unfortunate an event; concluding however by observing, that as +they were all got together, they must do something by way of being +happy; and after some consultation it was agreed, that although +happiness could only be enjoyed at Whitwell, they might procure a +tolerable composure of mind by driving about the country. The +carriages were then ordered; Willoughby's was first, and Marianne +never looked happier than when she got into it. He drove through the +park very fast, and they were soon out of sight; and nothing more of +them was seen till their return, which did not happen till after the +return of all the rest. They both seemed delighted with their drive; +but said only in general terms that they had kept in the lanes, while +the others went on the downs. + +It was settled that there should be a dance in the evening, and that +every body should be extremely merry all day long. Some more of the +Careys came to dinner, and they had the pleasure of sitting down +nearly twenty to table, which Sir John observed with great +contentment. Willoughby took his usual place between the two elder +Miss Dashwoods. Mrs. Jennings sat on Elinor's right hand; and they had +not been long seated, before she leant behind her and Willoughby, and +said to Marianne, loud enough for them both to hear, "I have found you +out in spite of all your tricks. I know where you spent the morning." + +Marianne coloured, and replied very hastily, "Where, pray?" + +"Did not you know," said Willoughby, "that we had been out in my +curricle?" + +"Yes, yes, Mr. Impudence, I know that very well, and I was determined +to find out _where_ you had been to. I hope you like your house, Miss +Marianne. It is a very large one, I know; and when I come to see you, +I hope you will have new-furnished it, for it wanted it very much when +I was there six years ago." + +Marianne turned away in great confusion. Mrs. Jennings laughed +heartily; and Elinor found that in her resolution to know where they +had been, she had actually made her own woman enquire of Mr. +Willoughby's groom; and that she had by that method been informed that +they had gone to Allenham, and spent a considerable time there in +walking about the garden and going all over the house. + +Elinor could hardly believe this to be true, as it seemed very +unlikely that Willoughby should propose, or Marianne consent, to enter +the house while Mrs. Smith was in it, with whom Marianne had not the +smallest acquaintance. + +As soon as they left the dining-room, Elinor enquired of her about it; +and great was her surprise when she found that every circumstance +related by Mrs. Jennings was perfectly true. Marianne was quite angry +with her for doubting it. + +"Why should you imagine, Elinor, that we did not go there, or that we +did not see the house? Is not it what you have often wished to do +yourself?" + +"Yes, Marianne, but I would not go while Mrs. Smith was there, and +with no other companion than Mr. Willoughby." + +[Illustration: "_I have found you out in spite of all your tricks._"] + +"Mr. Willoughby however is the only person who can have a right to +show that house; and as he went in an open carriage, it was +impossible to have any other companion. I never spent a pleasanter +morning in my life." + +"I am afraid," replied Elinor, "that the pleasantness of an employment +does not always evince its propriety." + +"On the contrary, nothing can be a stronger proof of it, Elinor; for +if there had been any real impropriety in what I did, I should have +been sensible of it at the time, for we always know when we are acting +wrong, and with such a conviction I could have had no pleasure." + +"But, my dear Marianne, as it has already exposed you to some very +impertinent remarks, do you not now begin to doubt the discretion of +your own conduct?" + +"If the impertinent remarks of Mrs. Jennings are to be the proof of +impropriety in conduct, we are all offending every moment of our +lives. I value not her censure any more than I should do her +commendation. I am not sensible of having done anything wrong in +walking over Mrs. Smith's grounds, or in seeing her house. They will +one day be Mr. Willoughby's, and--" + +"If they were one day to be your own, Marianne, you would not be +justified in what you have done." + +She blushed at this hint; but it was even visibly gratifying to her; +and after a ten minutes' interval of earnest thought, she came to her +sister again, and said with great good humour, "Perhaps, Elinor, it +_was_ rather ill-judged in me to go to Allenham; but Mr. Willoughby +wanted particularly to show me the place; and it is a charming house, +I assure you. There is one remarkably pretty sitting room up stairs; +of a nice comfortable size for constant use, and with modern furniture +it would be delightful. It is a corner room, and has windows on two +sides. On one side you look across the bowling-green, behind the +house, to a beautiful hanging wood, and on the other you have a view +of the church and village, and, beyond them, of those fine bold hills +that we have so often admired. I did not see it to advantage, for +nothing could be more forlorn than the furniture; but if it were newly +fitted up--a couple of hundred pounds, Willoughby says, would make it +one of the pleasantest summer-rooms in England." + +Could Elinor have listened to her without interruption from the +others, she would have described every room in the house with equal +delight. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +The sudden termination of Colonel Brandon's visit at the park, with +his steadiness in concealing its cause, filled the mind, and raised +the wonder of Mrs. Jennings for two or three days; she was a great +wonderer, as every one must be who takes a very lively interest in all +the comings and goings of all their acquaintance. She wondered, with +little intermission what could be the reason of it; was sure there +must be some bad news, and thought over every kind of distress that +could have befallen him, with a fixed determination that he should not +escape them all. + +"Something very melancholy must be the matter, I am sure," said she. +"I could see it in his face. Poor man! I am afraid his circumstances +may be bad. The estate at Delaford was never reckoned more than two +thousand a year, and his brother left everything sadly involved. I do +think he must have been sent for about money matters, for what else +can it be? I wonder whether it is so. I would give anything to know +the truth of it. Perhaps it is about Miss Williams and, by the bye, I +dare say it is, because he looked so conscious when I mentioned her. +May be she is ill in town; nothing in the world more likely, for I +have a notion she is always rather sickly. I would lay any wager it is +about Miss Williams. It is not so very likely he should be distressed +in his circumstances _now_, for he is a very prudent man, and to be +sure must have cleared the estate by this time. I wonder what it can +be! May be his sister is worse at Avignon, and has sent for him over. +His setting off in such a hurry seems very like it. Well, I wish him +out of all his trouble with all my heart, and a good wife into the +bargain." + +So wondered, so talked Mrs. Jennings. Her opinion varying with every +fresh conjecture, and all seeming equally probable as they arose. +Elinor, though she felt really interested in the welfare of Colonel +Brandon, could not bestow all the wonder on his going so suddenly +away, which Mrs. Jennings was desirous of her feeling; for besides +that the circumstance did not in her opinion justify such lasting +amazement or variety of speculation, her wonder was otherwise +disposed of. It was engrossed by the extraordinary silence of her +sister and Willoughby on the subject, which they must know to be +peculiarly interesting to them all. As this silence continued, every +day made it appear more strange and more incompatible with the +disposition of both. Why they should not openly acknowledge to her +mother and herself, what their constant behaviour to each other +declared to have taken place, Elinor could not imagine. + +She could easily conceive that marriage might not be immediately in +their power; for though Willoughby was independent, there was no +reason to believe him rich. His estate had been rated by Sir John at +about six or seven hundred a year; but he lived at an expense to which +that income could hardly be equal, and he had himself often complained +of his poverty. But for this strange kind of secrecy maintained by +them relative to their engagement, which in fact concealed nothing at +all, she could not account; and it was so wholly contradictory to +their general opinions and practice, that a doubt sometimes entered +her mind of their being really engaged, and this doubt was enough to +prevent her making any inquiry of Marianne. + +Nothing could be more expressive of attachment to them all, than +Willoughby's behaviour. To Marianne it had all the distinguishing +tenderness which a lover's heart could give, and to the rest of the +family it was the affectionate attention of a son and a brother. The +cottage seemed to be considered and loved by him as his home; many +more of his hours were spent there than at Allenham; and if no general +engagement collected them at the park, the exercise which called him +out in the morning was almost certain of ending there, where the rest +of the day was spent by himself at the side of Marianne, and by his +favourite pointer at her feet. + +One evening in particular, about a week after Colonel Brandon left the +country, his heart seemed more than usually open to every feeling of +attachment to the objects around him; and on Mrs. Dashwood's happening +to mention her design of improving the cottage in the spring, he +warmly opposed every alteration of a place which affection had +established as perfect with him. + +"What!" he exclaimed, "Improve this dear cottage! No. _That_ I will +never consent to. Not a stone must be added to its walls, not an inch +to its size, if my feelings are regarded." + +"Do not be alarmed," said Miss Dashwood, "nothing of the kind will be +done; for my mother will never have money enough to attempt it." + +"I am heartily glad of it," he cried. "May she always be poor, if she +can employ her riches no better." + +"Thank you, Willoughby. But you may be assured that I would not +sacrifice one sentiment of local attachment of yours, or of any one +whom I loved, for all the improvements in the world. Depend upon it +that whatever unemployed sum may remain, when I make up my accounts in +the spring, I would even rather lay it uselessly by than dispose of it +in a manner so painful to you. But are you really so attached to this +place as to see no defect in it?" + +"I am," said he. "To me it is faultless. Nay, more, I consider it as +the only form of building in which happiness is attainable, and were I +rich enough I would instantly pull Combe down, and build it up again +in the exact plan of this cottage." + +"With dark narrow stairs and a kitchen that smokes, I suppose," said +Elinor. + +"Yes," cried he in the same eager tone, "with all and every thing +belonging to it--in no one convenience or inconvenience about it, +should the least variation be perceptible. Then, and then only, under +such a roof, I might perhaps be as happy at Combe as I have been at +Barton." + +"I flatter myself," replied Elinor, "that even under the disadvantage +of better rooms and a broader staircase, you will hereafter find your +own house as faultless as you now do this." + +"There certainly are circumstances," said Willoughby, "which might +greatly endear it to me; but this place will always have one claim of +my affection, which no other can possibly share." + +Mrs. Dashwood looked with pleasure at Marianne, whose fine eyes were +fixed so expressively on Willoughby, as plainly denoted how well she +understood him. + +"How often did I wish," added he, "when I was at Allenham this time +twelvemonth, that Barton cottage were inhabited! I never passed within +view of it without admiring its situation, and grieving that no one +should live in it. How little did I then think that the very first +news I should hear from Mrs. Smith, when I next came into the country, +would be that Barton cottage was taken: and I felt an immediate +satisfaction and interest in the event, which nothing but a kind of +prescience of what happiness I should experience from it, can account +for. Must it not have been so, Marianne?" speaking to her in a lowered +voice. Then continuing his former tone, he said, "And yet this house +you would spoil, Mrs. Dashwood? You would rob it of its simplicity by +imaginary improvement! and this dear parlour in which our acquaintance +first began, and in which so many happy hours have been since spent by +us together, you would degrade to the condition of a common entrance, +and every body would be eager to pass through the room which has +hitherto contained within itself more real accommodation and comfort +than any other apartment of the handsomest dimensions in the world +could possibly afford." + +Mrs. Dashwood again assured him that no alteration of the kind should +be attempted. + +"You are a good woman," he warmly replied. "Your promise makes me +easy. Extend it a little farther, and it will make me happy. Tell me +that not only your house will remain the same, but that I shall ever +find you and yours as unchanged as your dwelling; and that you will +always consider me with the kindness which has made everything +belonging to you so dear to me." + +The promise was readily given, and Willoughby's behaviour during the +whole of the evening declared at once his affection and happiness. + +"Shall we see you tomorrow to dinner?" said Mrs. Dashwood, when he was +leaving them. "I do not ask you to come in the morning, for we must +walk to the park, to call on Lady Middleton." + +He engaged to be with them by four o'clock. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Mrs. Dashwood's visit to Lady Middleton took place the next day, and +two of her daughters went with her; but Marianne excused herself from +being of the party, under some trifling pretext of employment; and her +mother, who concluded that a promise had been made by Willoughby the +night before of calling on her while they were absent, was perfectly +satisfied with her remaining at home. + +On their return from the park they found Willoughby's curricle and +servant in waiting at the cottage, and Mrs. Dashwood was convinced +that her conjecture had been just. So far it was all as she had +foreseen; but on entering the house she beheld what no foresight had +taught her to expect. They were no sooner in the passage than Marianne +came hastily out of the parlour apparently in violent affliction, with +her handkerchief at her eyes; and without noticing them ran up stairs. +Surprised and alarmed they proceeded directly into the room she had +just quitted, where they found only Willoughby, who was leaning +against the mantelpiece with his back towards them. He turned round +on their coming in, and his countenance showed that he strongly +partook of the emotion which overpowered Marianne. + +"Is anything the matter with her?" cried Mrs. Dashwood as she +entered:--"is she ill?" + +"I hope not," he replied, trying to look cheerful; and with a forced +smile presently added, "It is I who may rather expect to be ill--for I +am now suffering under a very heavy disappointment!" + +"Disappointment?" + +"Yes, for I am unable to keep my engagement with you. Mrs. Smith has +this morning exercised the privilege of riches upon a poor dependent +cousin, by sending me on business to London. I have just received my +dispatches, and taken my farewell of Allenham; and by way of +exhilaration I am now come to take my farewell of you." + +"To London!--and are you going this morning?" + +"Almost this moment." + +[Illustration: _Apparently in violent affliction._] + +"This is very unfortunate. But Mrs. Smith must be obliged, and her +business will not detain you from us long I hope." + +He coloured as he replied, "You are very kind, but I have no idea of +returning into Devonshire immediately. My visits to Mrs. Smith are +never repeated within the twelvemonth." + +"And is Mrs. Smith your only friend? Is Allenham the only house in the +neighbourhood to which you will be welcome? For shame, Willoughby, can +you wait for an invitation here?" + +His colour increased; and with his eyes fixed on the ground he only +replied, "You are too good." + +Mrs. Dashwood looked at Elinor with surprise. Elinor felt equal +amazement. For a few moments every one was silent. Mrs. Dashwood first +spoke. + +"I have only to add, my dear Willoughby, that at Barton cottage you +will always be welcome; for I will not press you to return here +immediately, because you only can judge how far _that_ might be +pleasing to Mrs. Smith; and on this head I shall be no more disposed +to question your judgment than to doubt your inclination." + +"My engagements at present," replied Willoughby, confusedly, "are of +such a nature--that--I dare not flatter myself--" + +He stopped. Mrs. Dashwood was too much astonished to speak, and +another pause succeeded. This was broken by Willoughby, who said with +a faint smile, "It is folly to linger in this manner. I will not +torment myself any longer by remaining among friends whose society it +is impossible for me now to enjoy." + +He then hastily took leave of them all and left the room. They saw him +step into his carriage, and in a minute it was out of sight. + +Mrs. Dashwood felt too much for speech, and instantly quitted the +parlour to give way in solitude to the concern and alarm which this +sudden departure occasioned. + +Elinor's uneasiness was at least equal to her mother's. She thought of +what had just passed with anxiety and distrust. Willoughby's behaviour +in taking leave of them, his embarrassment, and affectation of +cheerfulness, and, above all, his unwillingness to accept her mother's +invitation--a backwardness so unlike a lover, so unlike +himself--greatly disturbed her. One moment she feared that no serious +design had ever been formed on his side; and the next that some +unfortunate quarrel had taken place between him and her sister. The +distress in which Marianne had quitted the room was such as a serious +quarrel could most reasonably account for, though when she considered +what Marianne's love for him was, a quarrel seemed almost impossible. + +But whatever might be the particulars of their separation, her +sister's affliction was indubitable; and she thought with the +tenderest compassion of that violent sorrow which Marianne was in all +probability not merely giving way to as a relief, but feeding and +encouraging as a duty. + +In about half an hour her mother returned, and though her eyes were +red, her countenance was not uncheerful. + +"Our dear Willoughby is now some miles from Barton, Elinor," said she, +as she sat down to work, "and with how heavy a heart does he travel?" + +"It is all very strange. So suddenly to be gone! It seems but the work +of a moment. And last night he was with us so happy, so cheerful, so +affectionate? And now, after only ten minutes notice,--gone too +without intending to return! Something more than what he owned to us +must have happened. He did not speak, he did not behave like himself. +_You_ must have seen the difference as well as I. What can it be? Can +they have quarrelled? Why else should he have shown such unwillingness +to accept your invitation here?" + +"It was not inclination that he wanted, Elinor; I could plainly see +_that._ He had not the power of accepting it. I have thought it all +over I assure you, and I can perfectly account for every thing that at +first seemed strange to me as well as to you." + +"Can you, indeed!" + +"Yes. I have explained it to myself in the most satisfactory way; but +you, Elinor, who love to doubt where you can--it will not satisfy +_you_, I know; but you shall not talk _me_ out of my trust in it. I am +persuaded that Mrs. Smith suspects his regard for Marianne, +disapproves of it, (perhaps because she has other views for him,) and +on that account is eager to get him away; and that the business which +she sends him off to transact is invented as an excuse to dismiss +him. This is what I believe to have happened. He is, moreover, aware +that she _does_ disapprove the connection, he dares not therefore at +present confess to her his engagement with Marianne, and he feels +himself obliged, from his dependent situation, to give into her +schemes, and absent himself from Devonshire for a while. You will tell +me, I know, that this may or may _not_ have happened; but I will +listen to no cavil, unless you can point out any other method of +understanding the affair as satisfactory at this. And now, Elinor, +what have you to say?" + +"Nothing, for you have anticipated my answer." + +"Then you would have told me, that it might or might not have +happened. Oh, Elinor, how incomprehensible are your feelings! You had +rather take evil upon credit than good. You had rather look out for +misery for Marianne, and guilt for poor Willoughby, than an apology +for the latter. You are resolved to think him blamable, because he +took leave of us with less affection than his usual behaviour has +shown. And is no allowance to be made for inadvertence, or for spirits +depressed by recent disappointment? Are no probabilities to be +accepted, merely because they are not certainties? Is nothing due to +the man whom we have all such reason to love, and no reason in the +world to think ill of?--to the possibility of motives unanswerable in +themselves, though unavoidably secret for a while? And, after all, +what is it you suspect him of?" + +"I can hardly tell myself. But suspicion of something unpleasant is +the inevitable consequence of such an alteration as we just witnessed +in him. There is great truth, however, in what you have now urged of +the allowances which ought to be made for him, and it is my wish to be +candid in my judgment of every body. Willoughby may undoubtedly have +very sufficient reasons for his conduct, and I will hope that he has. +But it would have been more like Willoughby to acknowledge them at +once. Secrecy may be advisable; but still I cannot help wondering at +its being practiced by him." + +"Do not blame him, however, for departing from his character, where +the deviation is necessary. But you really do admit the justice of +what I have said in his defence?--I am happy--and he is acquitted." + +"Not entirely. It may be proper to conceal their engagement (if they +_are_ engaged) from Mrs. Smith; and if that is the case, it must be +highly expedient for Willoughby to be but little in Devonshire at +present. But this is no excuse for their concealing it from us." + +"Concealing it from us! my dear child, do you accuse Willoughby and +Marianne of concealment? This is strange indeed, when your eyes have +been reproaching them every day for incautiousness." + +"I want no proof of their affection," said Elinor; "but of their +engagement I do." + +"I am perfectly satisfied of both." + +"Yet not a syllable has been said to you on the subject, by either of +them." + +"I have not wanted syllables where actions have spoken so plainly. Has +not his behaviour to Marianne and to all of us, for at least the last +fortnight, declared that he loved and considered her as his future +wife, and that he felt for us the attachment of the nearest relation? +Have we not perfectly understood each other? Has not my consent been +daily asked by his looks, his manner, his attentive and affectionate +respect? My Elinor, is it possible to doubt their engagement? How +could such a thought occur to you? How is it to be supposed that +Willoughby, persuaded as he must be of your sister's love, should +leave her, and leave her perhaps for months, without telling her of +his affection,--that they should part without a mutual exchange of +confidence?" + +"I confess," replied Elinor, "that every circumstance except _one_ is +in favour of their engagement; but that _one_ is the total silence of +both on the subject, and with me it almost outweighs every other." + +"How strange this is! You must think wretchedly indeed of Willoughby, +if, after all that has openly passed between them, you can doubt the +nature of the terms on which they are together. Has he been acting a +part in his behaviour to your sister all this time? Do you suppose him +really indifferent to her?" + +"No, I cannot think that. He must and does love her I am sure." + +"But with a strange kind of tenderness, if he can leave her with such +indifference, such carelessness of the future, as you attribute to +him." + +"You must remember, my dear mother, that I have never considered this +matter as certain. I have had my doubts, I confess; but they are +fainter than they were, and they may soon be entirely done away. If we +find they correspond, every fear of mine will be removed." + +"A mighty concession indeed! If you were to see them at the altar, you +would suppose they were going to be married. Ungracious girl! But I +require no such proof. Nothing in my opinion has ever passed to +justify doubt; no secrecy has been attempted; all has been uniformly +open and unreserved. You cannot doubt your sister's wishes. It must be +Willoughby therefore whom you suspect. But why? Is he not a man of +honour and feeling? Has there been any inconsistency on his side to +create alarm? can he be deceitful?" + +"I hope not, I believe not," cried Elinor. "I love Willoughby, +sincerely love him; and suspicion of his integrity cannot be more +painful to yourself than to me. It has been involuntary, and I will +not encourage it. I was startled, I confess, by the alteration in his +manners this morning; he did not speak like himself, and did not +return your kindness with any cordiality. But all this may be +explained by such a situation of his affairs as you have supposed. He +had just parted from my sister, had seen her leave him in the greatest +affliction; and if he felt obliged, from a fear of offending Mrs. +Smith, to resist the temptation of returning here soon, and yet aware +that by declining your invitation, by saying that he was going away +for some time, he should seem to act an ungenerous, a suspicious part +by our family, he might well be embarrassed and disturbed. In such a +case, a plain and open avowal of his difficulties would have been more +to his honour I think, as well as more consistent with his general +character;--but I will not raise objections against any one's conduct +on so illiberal a foundation, as a difference in judgment from myself, +or a deviation from what I may think right and consistent." + +"You speak very properly. Willoughby certainly does not deserve to be +suspected. Though _we_ have not known him long, he is no stranger in +this part of the world; and who has ever spoken to his disadvantage? +Had he been in a situation to act independently and marry immediately, +it might have been odd that he should leave us without acknowledging +everything to me at once: but this is not the case. It is an +engagement in some respects not prosperously begun, for their marriage +must be at a very uncertain distance; and even secrecy, as far as it +can be observed, may now be very advisable." + +They were interrupted by the entrance of Margaret; and Elinor was then +at liberty to think over the representations of her mother, to +acknowledge the probability of many, and hope for the justice of all. + +They saw nothing of Marianne till dinner time, when she entered the +room and took her place at the table without saying a word. Her eyes +were red and swollen; and it seemed as if her tears were even then +restrained with difficulty. She avoided the looks of them all, could +neither eat nor speak, and after some time, on her mother's silently +pressing her hand with tender compassion, her small degree of +fortitude was quite overcome, she burst into tears and left the room. + +This violent oppression of spirits continued the whole evening. She +was without any power, because she was without any desire of command +over herself. The slightest mention of anything relative to Willoughby +overpowered her in an instant; and though her family were most +anxiously attentive to her comfort, it was impossible for them, if +they spoke at all, to keep clear of every subject which her feelings +connected with him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Marianne would have thought herself very inexcusable had she been able +to sleep at all the first night after parting from Willoughby. She +would have been ashamed to look her family in the face the next +morning, had she not risen from her bed in more need of repose than +when she lay down in it. But the feelings which made such composure a +disgrace, left her in no danger of incurring it. She was awake the +whole night, and she wept the greatest part of it. She got up with a +headache, was unable to talk, and unwilling to take any nourishment; +giving pain every moment to her mother and sisters, and forbidding +all attempt at consolation from either. Her sensibility was potent +enough! + +When breakfast was over she walked out by herself, and wandered about +the village of Allenham, indulging the recollection of past enjoyment +and crying over the present reverse for the chief of the morning. + +The evening passed off in the equal indulgence of feeling. She played +over every favourite song that she had been used to play to +Willoughby, every air in which their voices had been oftenest joined, +and sat at the instrument gazing on every line of music that he had +written out for her, till her heart was so heavy that no farther +sadness could be gained; and this nourishment of grief was every day +applied. She spent whole hours at the pianoforte alternately singing +and crying; her voice often totally suspended by her tears. In books +too, as well as in music, she courted the misery which a contrast +between the past and present was certain of giving. She read nothing +but what they had been used to read together. + +Such violence of affliction indeed could not be supported for ever; it +sunk within a few days into a calmer melancholy; but these +employments, to which she daily recurred, her solitary walks and +silent meditations, still produced occasional effusions of sorrow as +lively as ever. + +No letter from Willoughby came; and none seemed expected by Marianne. +Her mother was surprised, and Elinor again became uneasy. But Mrs. +Dashwood could find explanations whenever she wanted them, which at +least satisfied herself. + +"Remember, Elinor," said she, "how very often Sir John fetches our +letters himself from the post, and carries them to it. We have already +agreed that secrecy may be necessary, and we must acknowledge that it +could not be maintained if their correspondence were to pass through +Sir John's hands." + +Elinor could not deny the truth of this, and she tried to find in it a +motive sufficient for their silence. But there was one method so +direct, so simple, and in her opinion so eligible of knowing the real +state of the affair, and of instantly removing all mystery, that she +could not help suggesting it to her mother. + +"Why do you not ask Marianne at once," said she, "whether she is or +she is not engaged to Willoughby? From you, her mother, and so kind, +so indulgent a mother, the question could not give offence. It would +be the natural result of your affection for her. She used to be all +unreserve, and to you more especially." + +"I would not ask such a question for the world. Supposing it possible +that they are not engaged, what distress would not such an enquiry +inflict! At any rate it would be most ungenerous. I should never +deserve her confidence again, after forcing from her a confession of +what is meant at present to be unacknowledged to any one. I know +Marianne's heart: I know that she dearly loves me, and that I shall +not be the last to whom the affair is made known, when circumstances +make the revealment of it eligible. I would not attempt to force the +confidence of any one; of a child much less; because a sense of duty +would prevent the denial which her wishes might direct." + +Elinor thought this generosity overstrained, considering her sister's +youth, and urged the matter farther, but in vain; common sense, common +care, common prudence, were all sunk in Mrs. Dashwood's romantic +delicacy. + +It was several days before Willoughby's name was mentioned before +Marianne by any of her family; Sir John and Mrs. Jennings, indeed, +were not so nice; their witticisms added pain to many a painful hour; +but one evening, Mrs. Dashwood, accidentally taking up a volume of +Shakespeare, exclaimed-- + +"We have never finished _Hamlet_, Marianne; our dear Willoughby went +away before we could get through it. We will put it by, that when he +comes again--; But it may be months, perhaps, before _that_ happens." + +"Months!" cried Marianne, with strong surprise. "No--nor many weeks." + +Mrs. Dashwood was sorry for what she had said; but it gave Elinor +pleasure, as it produced a reply from Marianne so expressive of +confidence in Willoughby and knowledge of his intentions. + +One morning, about a week after his leaving the country, Marianne was +prevailed on to join her sisters in their usual walk, instead of +wandering away by herself. Hitherto she had carefully avoided every +companion in her rambles. If her sisters intended to walk on the +downs, she directly stole away towards the lanes; if they talked of +the valley, she was as speedy in climbing the hills, and could never +be found when the others set off. But at length she was secured by the +exertions of Elinor, who greatly disapproved such continual seclusion. +They walked along the road through the valley, and chiefly in silence, +for Marianne's _mind_ could not be controlled, and Elinor, satisfied +with gaining one point, would not then attempt more. Beyond the +entrance of the valley, where the country, though still rich, was less +wild and more open, a long stretch of the road which they had +travelled on first coming to Barton, lay before them; and on reaching +that point, they stopped to look around them, and examine a prospect +which formed the distance of their view from the cottage, from a spot +which they had never happened to reach in any of their walks before. + +Amongst the objects in the scene, they soon discovered an animated +one; it was a man on horseback riding towards them. In a few minutes +they could distinguish him to be a gentleman; and in a moment +afterwards Marianne rapturously exclaimed-- + +"It is he; it is indeed--I know it is!" and was hastening to meet him, +when Elinor cried out-- + +"Indeed, Marianne, I think you are mistaken. It is not Willoughby. The +person is not tall enough for him, and has not his air." + +"He has, he has," cried Marianne, "I am sure he has. His air, his +coat, his horse. I knew how soon he would come." + +She walked eagerly on as she spoke; and Elinor, to screen Marianne +from particularity, as she felt almost certain of its not being +Willoughby, quickened her pace and kept up with her. They were soon +within thirty yards of the gentleman. Marianne looked again; her heart +sunk within her; and abruptly turning round, she was hurrying back, +when the voices of both her sisters were raised to detain her; a +third, almost as well known as Willoughby's, joined them in begging +her to stop, and she turned round with surprise to see and welcome +Edward Ferrars. + +[Illustration: _Begging her to stop._] + +He was the only person in the world who could at that moment be +forgiven for not being Willoughby; the only one who could have gained +a smile from her; but she dispersed her tears to smile on _him_, and +in her sister's happiness forgot for a time her own disappointment. + +He dismounted, and giving his horse to his servant, walked back with +them to Barton, whither he was purposely coming to visit them. + +He was welcomed by them all with great cordiality, but especially by +Marianne, who showed more warmth of regard in her reception of him +than even Elinor herself. To Marianne, indeed, the meeting between +Edward and her sister was but a continuation of that unaccountable +coldness which she had often observed at Norland in their mutual +behaviour. On Edward's side, more particularly, there was a deficiency +of all that a lover ought to look and say on such an occasion. He was +confused, seemed scarcely sensible of pleasure in seeing them, looked +neither rapturous nor gay, said little but what was forced from him by +questions, and distinguished Elinor by no mark of affection. Marianne +saw and listened with increasing surprise. She began almost to feel a +dislike of Edward; and it ended, as every feeling must end with her, +by carrying back her thoughts to Willoughby, whose manners formed a +contrast sufficiently striking to those of his brother elect. + +After a short silence which succeeded the first surprise and enquiries +of meeting, Marianne asked Edward if he came directly from London. No, +he had been in Devonshire a fortnight. + +"A fortnight!" she repeated, surprised at his being so long in the +same county with Elinor without seeing her before. + +He looked rather distressed as he added, that he had been staying with +some friends near Plymouth. + +"Have you been lately in Sussex?" said Elinor. + +"I was at Norland about a month ago." + +"And how does dear, dear Norland look?" cried Marianne. + +"Dear, dear Norland," said Elinor, "probably looks much as it always +does at this time of the year--the woods and walks thickly covered +with dead leaves." + +"Oh," cried Marianne, "with what transporting sensation have I +formerly seen them fall! How have I delighted, as I walked, to see +them driven in showers about me by the wind! What feelings have they, +the season, the air altogether inspired! Now there is no one to regard +them. They are seen only as a nuisance, swept hastily off, and driven +as much as possible from the sight." + +"It is not every one," said Elinor, "who has your passion for dead +leaves." + +"No; my feelings are not often shared, not often understood. But +_sometimes_ they are." As she said this, she sunk into a reverie for a +few moments; but rousing herself again, "Now, Edward," said she, +calling his attention to the prospect, "here is Barton valley. Look up +to it, and be tranquil if you can. Look at those hills! Did you ever +see their equals? To the left is Barton park, amongst those woods and +plantations. You may see the end of the house. And there, beneath that +farthest hill, which rises with such grandeur, is our cottage." + +"It is a beautiful country," he replied; "but these bottoms must be +dirty in winter." + +"How can you think of dirt, with such objects before you?" + +"Because," replied he, smiling, "among the rest of the objects before +me, I see a very dirty lane." + +"How strange!" said Marianne to herself as she walked on. + +"Have you an agreeable neighbourhood here? Are the Middletons pleasant +people?" + +"No, not all," answered Marianne; "we could not be more unfortunately +situated." + +"Marianne," cried her sister, "how can you say so? How can you be so +unjust? They are a very respectable family, Mr. Ferrars; and towards +us have behaved in the friendliest manner. Have you forgot, Marianne, +how many pleasant days we have owed to them?" + +"No," said Marianne, in a low voice, "nor how many painful moments." + +Elinor took no notice of this; and directing her attention to their +visitor, endeavoured to support something like discourse with him, by +talking of their present residence, its conveniences, &c. extorting +from him occasional questions and remarks. His coldness and reserve +mortified her severely; she was vexed and half angry; but resolving to +regulate her behaviour to him by the past rather than the present, +she avoided every appearance of resentment or displeasure, and treated +him as she thought he ought to be treated from the family connection. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Mrs. Dashwood was surprised only for a moment at seeing him; for his +coming to Barton was, in her opinion, of all things the most natural. +Her joy and expression of regard long outlived her wonder. He received +the kindest welcome from her; and shyness, coldness, reserve could not +stand against such a reception. They had begun to fail him before he +entered the house, and they were quite overcome by the captivating +manners of Mrs. Dashwood. Indeed a man could not very well be in love +with either of her daughters, without extending the passion to her; +and Elinor had the satisfaction of seeing him soon become more like +himself. His affections seemed to reanimate towards them all, and his +interest in their welfare again became perceptible. He was not in +spirits, however; he praised their house, admired its prospect, was +attentive, and kind; but still he was not in spirits. The whole family +perceived it, and Mrs. Dashwood, attributing it to some want of +liberality in his mother, sat down to table indignant against all +selfish parents. + +"What are Mrs. Ferrars's views for you at present, Edward?" said she, +when dinner was over and they had drawn round the fire; "are you still +to be a great orator in spite of yourself?" + +"No. I hope my mother is now convinced that I have no more talents +than inclination for a public life!" + +"But how is your fame to be established? for famous you must be to +satisfy all your family; and with no inclination for expense, no +affection for strangers, no profession, and no assurance, you may find +it a difficult matter." + +"I shall not attempt it. I have no wish to be distinguished; and have +every reason to hope I never shall. Thank Heaven! I cannot be forced +into genius and eloquence." + +"You have no ambition, I well know. Your wishes are all moderate." + +"As moderate as those of the rest of the world, I believe. I wish as +well as every body else to be perfectly happy; but, like every body +else it must be in my own way. Greatness will not make me so." + +"Strange that it would!" cried Marianne. "What have wealth or grandeur +to do with happiness?" + +"Grandeur has but little," said Elinor, "but wealth has much to do +with it." + +"Elinor, for shame!" said Marianne, "money can only give happiness +where there is nothing else to give it. Beyond a competence, it can +afford no real satisfaction, as far as mere self is concerned." + +"Perhaps," said Elinor, smiling, "we may come to the same point. +_Your_ competence and _my_ wealth are very much alike, I dare say; and +without them, as the world goes now, we shall both agree that every +kind of external comfort must be wanting. Your ideas are only more +noble than mine. Come, what is your competence?" + +"About eighteen hundred or two thousand a year; not more than _that._" + +Elinor laughed. "_Two_ thousand a year! _One_ is my wealth! I guessed +how it would end." + +"And yet two thousand a-year is a very moderate income," said +Marianne. "A family cannot well be maintained on a smaller. I am sure +I am not extravagant in my demands. A proper establishment of +servants, a carriage, perhaps two, and hunters, cannot be supported on +less." + +Elinor smiled again, to hear her sister describing so accurately their +future expenses at Combe Magna. + +"Hunters!" repeated Edward; "but why must you have hunters? Every body +does not hunt." + +Marianne coloured as she replied, "But most people do." + +"I wish," said Margaret, striking out a novel thought, "that somebody +would give us all a large fortune a-piece!" + +"Oh that they would!" cried Marianne, her eyes sparkling with +animation, and her cheeks glowing with the delight of such imaginary +happiness. + +"We are all unanimous in that wish, I suppose," said Elinor, "in spite +of the insufficiency of wealth." + +"Oh dear!" cried Margaret, "how happy I should be! I wonder what I +should do with it!" + +Marianne looked as if she had no doubt on that point. + +"I should be puzzled to spend so large a fortune myself," said Mrs. +Dashwood, "if my children were all to be rich without my help." + +"You must begin your improvements on this house," observed Elinor, +"and your difficulties will soon vanish." + +"What magnificent orders would travel from this family to London," +said Edward, "in such an event! What a happy day for booksellers, +music-sellers, and print-shops! You, Miss Dashwood, would give a +general commission for every new print of merit to be sent you--and as +for Marianne, I know her greatness of soul, there would not be music +enough in London to content her. And books!--Thomson, Cowper, +Scott--she would buy them all over and over again: she would buy up +every copy, I believe, to prevent their falling into unworthy hands; +and she would have every book that tells her how to admire an old +twisted tree. Should not you, Marianne? Forgive me, if I am very +saucy. But I was willing to show you that I had not forgot our old +disputes." + +"I love to be reminded of the past, Edward--whether it be melancholy +or gay, I love to recall it--and you will never offend me by talking +of former times. You are very right in supposing how my money would be +spent; some of it, at least--my loose cash--would certainly be +employed in improving my collection of music and books." + +"And the bulk of your fortune would be laid out in annuities on the +authors or their heirs." + +"No, Edward, I should have something else to do with it." + +"Perhaps, then, you would bestow it as a reward on that person who +wrote the ablest defence of your favourite maxim, that no one can ever +be in love more than once in their life--for your opinion on that +point is unchanged, I presume?" + +"Undoubtedly. At my time of life opinions are tolerably fixed. It is +not likely that I should now see or hear any thing to change them." + +"Marianne is as steadfast as ever, you see," said Elinor, "she is not +at all altered." + +"She is only grown a little more grave than she was." + +"Nay, Edward," said Marianne, "you need not reproach me. You are not +very gay yourself." + +"Why should you think so!" replied he, with a sigh. "But gaiety never +was a part of _my_ character." + +"Nor do I think it a part of Marianne's," said Elinor; "I should +hardly call her a lively girl--she is very earnest, very eager in all +she does--sometimes talks a great deal and always with animation--but +she is not often really merry." + +"I believe you are right," he replied, "and yet I have always set her +down as a lively girl." + +"I have frequently detected myself in such kind of mistakes," said +Elinor, "in a total misapprehension of character in some point or +other: fancying people so much more gay or grave, or ingenious or +stupid than they really are, and I can hardly tell why or in what the +deception originated. Sometimes one is guided by what they say of +themselves, and very frequently by what other people say of them, +without giving oneself time to deliberate and judge." + +"But I thought it was right, Elinor," said Marianne, "to be guided +wholly by the opinion of other people. I thought our judgments were +given us merely to be subservient to those of neighbours. This has +always been your doctrine, I am sure." + +"No, Marianne, never. My doctrine has never aimed at the subjection of +the understanding. All I have ever attempted to influence has been the +behaviour. You must not confound my meaning. I am guilty, I confess, +of having often wished you to treat our acquaintance in general with +greater attention; but when have I advised you to adopt their +sentiments or to conform to their judgment in serious matters?" + +"You have not been able to bring your sister over to your plan of +general civility," said Edward to Elinor, "Do you gain no ground?" + +"Quite the contrary," replied Elinor, looking expressively at +Marianne. + +"My judgment," he returned, "is all on your side of the question; but +I am afraid my practice is much more on your sister's. I never wish to +offend, but I am so foolishly shy, that I often seem negligent, when I +am only kept back by my natural awkwardness. I have frequently thought +that I must have been intended by nature to be fond of low company, I +am so little at my ease among strangers of gentility!" + +"Marianne has not shyness to excuse any inattention of hers," said +Elinor. + +"She knows her own worth too well for false shame," replied Edward. +"Shyness is only the effect of a sense of inferiority in some way or +other. If I could persuade myself that my manners were perfectly easy +and graceful, I should not be shy." + +"But you would still be reserved," said Marianne, "and that is worse." + +Edward started. "Reserved! Am I reserved, Marianne?" + +"Yes, very." + +"I do not understand you," replied he, colouring. "Reserved!--how, in +what manner? What am I to tell you? What can you suppose?" + +Elinor looked surprised at his emotion; but trying to laugh off the +subject, she said to him, "Do not you know my sister well enough to +understand what she means? Do not you know she calls every one +reserved who does not talk as fast, and admire what she admires as +rapturously as herself?" + +Edward made no answer. His gravity and thoughtfulness returned on him +in their fullest extent--and he sat for some time silent and dull. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Elinor saw, with great uneasiness the low spirits of her friend. His +visit afforded her but a very partial satisfaction, while his own +enjoyment in it appeared so imperfect. It was evident that he was +unhappy; she wished it were equally evident that he still +distinguished her by the same affection which once she had felt no +doubt of inspiring; but hitherto the continuance of his preference +seemed very uncertain; and the reservedness of his manner towards her +contradicted one moment what a more animated look had intimated the +preceding one. + +He joined her and Marianne in the breakfast-room the next morning +before the others were down; and Marianne, who was always eager to +promote their happiness as far as she could, soon left them to +themselves. But before she was half way upstairs she heard the parlour +door open, and, turning round, was astonished to see Edward himself +come out. + +"I am going into the village to see my horses," said he, "as you are +not yet ready for breakfast; I shall be back again presently." + + * * * * * + +Edward returned to them with fresh admiration of the surrounding +country; in his walk to the village, he had seen many parts of the +valley to advantage; and the village itself, in a much higher +situation than the cottage, afforded a general view of the whole, +which had exceedingly pleased him. This was a subject which ensured +Marianne's attention, and she was beginning to describe her own +admiration of these scenes, and to question him more minutely on the +objects that had particularly struck him, when Edward interrupted her +by saying, "You must not enquire too far, Marianne: remember I have no +knowledge in the picturesque, and I shall offend you by my ignorance +and want of taste if we come to particulars. I shall call hills steep, +which ought to be bold; surfaces strange and uncouth, which ought to +be irregular and rugged; and distant objects out of sight, which ought +only to be indistinct through the soft medium of a hazy atmosphere. +You must be satisfied with such admiration as I can honestly give. I +call it a very fine country,--the hills are steep, the woods seem full +of fine timber, and the valley looks comfortable and snug,--with rich +meadows and several neat farm houses scattered here and there. It +exactly answers my idea of a fine country, because it unites beauty +with utility--and I dare say it is a picturesque one too, because you +admire it; I can easily believe it to be full of rocks and +promontories, grey moss and brush wood, but these are all lost on me. +I know nothing of the picturesque." + +"I am afraid it is but too true," said Marianne; "but why should you +boast of it?" + +"I suspect," said Elinor, "that to avoid one kind of affectation, +Edward here falls into another. Because he believes many people +pretend to more admiration of the beauties of nature than they really +feel, and is disgusted with such pretensions, he affects greater +indifference and less discrimination in viewing them himself than he +possesses. He is fastidious and will have an affectation of his own." + +"It is very true," said Marianne, "that admiration of landscape +scenery is become a mere jargon. Every body pretends to feel and tries +to describe with the taste and elegance of him who first defined what +picturesque beauty was. I detest jargon of every kind, and sometimes I +have kept my feelings to myself, because I could find no language to +describe them in but what was worn and hackneyed out of all sense and +meaning." + +"I am convinced," said Edward, "that you really feel all the delight +in a fine prospect which you profess to feel. But, in return, your +sister must allow me to feel no more than I profess. I like a fine +prospect, but not on picturesque principles. I do not like crooked, +twisted, blasted trees. I admire them much more if they are tall, +straight, and flourishing. I do not like ruined, tattered cottages. I +am not fond of nettles or thistles, or heath blossoms. I have more +pleasure in a snug farm-house than a watch-tower,--and a troop of +tidy, happy villages please me better than the finest banditti in the +world." + +Marianne looked with amazement at Edward, with compassion at her +sister. Elinor only laughed. + +The subject was continued no farther; and Marianne remained +thoughtfully silent, till a new object suddenly engaged her attention. +She was sitting by Edward, and in taking his tea from Mrs. Dashwood, +his hand passed so directly before her, as to make a ring, with a +plait of hair in the centre, very conspicuous on one of his fingers. + +"I never saw you wear a ring before, Edward," she cried. "Is that +Fanny's hair? I remember her promising to give you some. But I should +have thought her hair had been darker." + +Marianne spoke inconsiderately what she really felt; but when she saw +how much she had pained Edward, her own vexation at her want of +thought could not be surpassed by his. He coloured very deeply, and +giving a momentary glance at Elinor, replied, "Yes; it is my sister's +hair. The setting always casts a different shade on it, you know." + +Elinor had met his eye, and looked conscious likewise. That the hair +was her own, she instantaneously felt as well satisfied as Marianne; +the only difference in their conclusions was, that what Marianne +considered as a free gift from her sister, Elinor was conscious must +have been procured by some theft or contrivance unknown to herself. +She was not in a humour, however, to regard it as an affront, and +affecting to take no notice of what passed, by instantly talking of +something else, she internally resolved henceforward to catch every +opportunity of eyeing the hair and of satisfying herself, beyond all +doubt, that it was exactly the shade of her own. + +Edward's embarrassment lasted some time, and it ended in an absence of +mind still more settled. He was particularly grave the whole morning. +Marianne severely censured herself for what she had said; but her own +forgiveness might have been more speedy, had she known how little +offence it had given her sister. + +Before the middle of the day, they were visited by Sir John and Mrs. +Jennings, who, having heard of the arrival of a gentleman at the +cottage, came to take a survey of the guest. With the assistance of +his mother-in-law, Sir John was not long in discovering that the name +of Ferrars began with an F. and this prepared a future mine of +raillery against the devoted Elinor, which nothing but the newness of +their acquaintance with Edward could have prevented from being +immediately sprung. But, as it was, she only learned, from some very +significant looks, how far their penetration, founded on Margaret's +instructions, extended. + +Sir John never came to the Dashwoods without either inviting them to +dine at the park the next day, or to drink tea with them that evening. +On the present occasion, for the better entertainment of their +visitor, towards whose amusement he felt himself bound to contribute, +he wished to engage them for both. + +"You _must_ drink tea with us to night," said he, "for we shall be +quite alone; and tomorrow you must absolutely dine with us, for we +shall be a large party." + +Mrs. Jennings enforced the necessity. "And who knows but you may raise +a dance," said she. "And that will tempt _you_, Miss Marianne." + +"A dance!" cried Marianne. "Impossible! Who is to dance?" + +[Illustration: _Came to take a survey of the guest._] + +"Who? why yourselves, and the Careys, and Whitakers to be sure. +What! you thought nobody could dance because a certain person that +shall be nameless is gone!" + +"I wish with all my soul," cried Sir John, "that Willoughby were among +us again." + +This, and Marianne's blushing, gave new suspicions to Edward. "And who +is Willoughby?" said he, in a low voice, to Miss Dashwood, by whom he +was sitting. + +She gave him a brief reply. Marianne's countenance was more +communicative. Edward saw enough to comprehend, not only the meaning +of others, but such of Marianne's expressions as had puzzled him +before; and when their visitors left them, he went immediately round +her, and said, in a whisper, "I have been guessing. Shall I tell you +my guess?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Shall I tell you." + +"Certainly." + +"Well then; I guess that Mr. Willoughby hunts." + +Marianne was surprised and confused, yet she could not help smiling at +the quiet archness of his manner, and after a moment's silence, said-- + +"Oh, Edward! How can you?--But the time will come I hope--I am sure +you will like him." + +"I do not doubt it," replied he, rather astonished at her earnestness +and warmth; for had he not imagined it to be a joke for the good of +her acquaintance in general, founded only on a something or a nothing +between Mr. Willoughby and herself, he would not have ventured to +mention it. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Edward remained a week at the cottage; he was earnestly pressed by +Mrs. Dashwood to stay longer; but, as if he were bent only on +self-mortification, he seemed resolved to be gone when his enjoyment +among his friends was at the height. His spirits, during the last two +or three days, though still very unequal, were greatly improved--he +grew more and more partial to the house and environs--never spoke of +going away without a sigh--declared his time to be wholly +disengaged--even doubted to what place he should go when he left +them--but still, go he must. Never had any week passed so quickly--he +could hardly believe it to be gone. He said so repeatedly; other +things he said too, which marked the turn of his feelings and gave the +lie to his actions. He had no pleasure at Norland; he detested being +in town; but either to Norland or London, he must go. He valued their +kindness beyond any thing, and his greatest happiness was in being +with them. Yet, he must leave them at the end of a week, in spite of +their wishes and his own, and without any restraint on his time. + +Elinor placed all that was astonishing in this way of acting to his +mother's account; and it was happy for her that he had a mother whose +character was so imperfectly known to her, as to be the general excuse +for every thing strange on the part of her son. Disappointed, however, +and vexed as she was, and sometimes displeased with his uncertain +behaviour to herself, she was very well disposed on the whole to +regard his actions with all the candid allowances and generous +qualifications, which had been rather more painfully extorted from +her, for Willoughby's service, by her mother. His want of spirits, of +openness, and of consistency, were most usually attributed to his want +of independence, and his better knowledge of Mrs. Ferrars's +disposition and designs. The shortness of his visit, the steadiness of +his purpose in leaving them, originated in the same fettered +inclination, the same inevitable necessity of temporizing with his +mother. The old well-established grievance of duty against will, +parent against child, was the cause of all. She would have been glad +to know when these difficulties were to cease, this opposition was to +yield, when Mrs. Ferrars would be reformed, and her son be at liberty +to be happy. But from such vain wishes she was forced to turn for +comfort to the renewal of her confidence in Edward's affection, to the +remembrance of every mark of regard in look or word which fell from +him while at Barton, and above all to that flattering proof of it +which he constantly wore round his finger. + +"I think, Edward," said Mrs. Dashwood, as they were at breakfast the +last morning, "you would be a happier man if you had any profession to +engage your time and give an interest to your plans and actions. Some +inconvenience to your friends, indeed, might result from it--you would +not be able to give them so much of your time. But (with a smile) you +would be materially benefited in one particular at least--you would +know where to go when you left them." + +"I do assure you," he replied, "that I have long thought on this +point, as you think now. It has been, and is, and probably will always +be a heavy misfortune to me, that I have had no necessary business to +engage me, no profession to give me employment, or afford me any thing +like independence. But unfortunately my own nicety, and the nicety of +my friends, have made me what I am, an idle, helpless being. We never +could agree in our choice of a profession. I always preferred the +church, as I still do. But that was not smart enough for my family. +They recommended the army. That was a great deal too smart for me. The +law was allowed to be genteel enough; many young men, who had chambers +in the Temple, made a very good appearance in the first circles, and +drove about town in very knowing gigs. But I had no inclination for +the law, even in this less abstruse study of it, which my family +approved. As for the navy, it had fashion on its side, but I was too +old when the subject was first started to enter it; and, at length, as +there was no necessity for my having any profession at all, as I might +be as dashing and expensive without a red coat on my back as with one, +idleness was pronounced on the whole to be most advantageous and +honourable, and a young man of eighteen is not in general so earnestly +bent on being busy as to resist the solicitations of his friends to do +nothing. I was therefore entered at Oxford and have been properly idle +ever since." + +"The consequence of which, I suppose, will be," said Mrs. Dashwood, +"since leisure has not promoted your own happiness, that your sons +will be brought up to as many pursuits, employments, professions, and +trades as Columella's." + +"They will be brought up," said he, in a serious accent, "to be as +unlike myself as is possible. In feeling, in action, in condition, in +every thing." + +"Come, come; this is all an effusion of immediate want of spirits, +Edward. You are in a melancholy humour, and fancy that any one unlike +yourself must be happy. But remember that the pain of parting from +friends will be felt by every body at times, whatever be their +education or state. Know your own happiness. You want nothing but +patience--or give it a more fascinating name, call it hope. Your +mother will secure to you, in time, that independence you are so +anxious for; it is her duty, and it will, it must ere long become her +happiness to prevent your whole youth from being wasted in discontent. +How much may not a few months do?" + +"I think," replied Edward, "that I may defy many months to produce any +good to me." + +This desponding turn of mind, though it could not be communicated to +Mrs. Dashwood, gave additional pain to them all in the parting, which +shortly took place, and left an uncomfortable impression on Elinor's +feelings especially, which required some trouble and time to subdue. +But as it was her determination to subdue it, and to prevent herself +from appearing to suffer more than what all her family suffered on his +going away, she did not adopt the method so judiciously employed by +Marianne, on a similar occasion, to augment and fix her sorrow, by +seeking silence, solitude and idleness. Their means were as different +as their objects, and equally suited to the advancement of each. + +Elinor sat down to her drawing-table as soon as he was out of the +house, busily employed herself the whole day, neither sought nor +avoided the mention of his name, appeared to interest herself almost +as much as ever in the general concerns of the family, and if, by this +conduct, she did not lessen her own grief, it was at least prevented +from unnecessary increase, and her mother and sisters were spared much +solicitude on her account. + +Such behaviour as this, so exactly the reverse of her own, appeared no +more meritorious to Marianne, than her own had seemed faulty to her. +The business of self-command she settled very easily;--with strong +affections it was impossible, with calm ones it could have no merit. +That her sister's affections _were_ calm, she dared not deny, though +she blushed to acknowledge it; and of the strength of her own, she +gave a very striking proof, by still loving and respecting that +sister, in spite of this mortifying conviction. + +Without shutting herself up from her family, or leaving the house in +determined solitude to avoid them, or lying awake the whole night to +indulge meditation, Elinor found every day afforded her leisure enough +to think of Edward, and of Edward's behaviour, in every possible +variety which the different state of her spirits at different times +could produce,--with tenderness, pity, approbation, censure, and +doubt. There were moments in abundance, when, if not by the absence of +her mother and sisters, at least by the nature of their employments, +conversation was forbidden among them, and every effect of solitude +was produced. Her mind was inevitably at liberty; her thoughts could +not be chained elsewhere; and the past and the future, on a subject so +interesting, must be before her, must force her attention, and engross +her memory, her reflection, and her fancy. + +From a reverie of this kind, as she sat at her drawing-table, she was +roused one morning, soon after Edward's leaving them, by the arrival +of company. She happened to be quite alone. The closing of the little +gate, at the entrance of the green court in front of the house, drew +her eyes to the window, and she saw a large party walking up to the +door. Amongst them were Sir John and Lady Middleton and Mrs. Jennings, +but there were two others, a gentleman and lady, who were quite +unknown to her. She was sitting near the window, and as soon as Sir +John perceived her, he left the rest of the party to the ceremony of +knocking at the door, and stepping across the turf, obliged her to +open the casement to speak to him, though the space was so short +between the door and the window, as to make it hardly possible to +speak at one without being heard at the other. + +"Well," said he, "we have brought you some strangers. How do you like +them?" + +"Hush! they will hear you." + +"Never mind if they do. It is only the Palmers. Charlotte is very +pretty, I can tell you. You may see her if you look this way." + +As Elinor was certain of seeing her in a couple of minutes, without +taking that liberty, she begged to be excused. + +"Where is Marianne? Has she run away because we are come? I see her +instrument is open." + +"She is walking, I believe." + +They were now joined by Mrs. Jennings, who had not patience enough to +wait till the door was opened before she told _her_ story. She came +hallooing to the window, "How do you do, my dear? How does Mrs. +Dashwood do? And where are your sisters? What! all alone! you will be +glad of a little company to sit with you. I have brought my other son +and daughter to see you. Only think of their coming so suddenly! I +thought I heard a carriage last night, while we were drinking our tea, +but it never entered my head that it could be them. I thought of +nothing but whether it might not be Colonel Brandon come back again; +so I said to Sir John, I do think I hear a carriage; perhaps it is +Colonel Brandon come back again--" + +Elinor was obliged to turn from her, in the middle of her story, to +receive the rest of the party; Lady Middleton introduced the two +strangers; Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret came down stairs at the same +time, and they all sat down to look at one another, while Mrs. +Jennings continued her story as she walked through the passage into +the parlour, attended by Sir John. + +Mrs. Palmer was several years younger than Lady Middleton, and totally +unlike her in every respect. She was short and plump, had a very +pretty face, and the finest expression of good humour in it that could +possibly be. Her manners were by no means so elegant as her sister's, +but they were much more prepossessing. She came in with a smile, +smiled all the time of her visit, except when she laughed, and smiled +when she went away. Her husband was a grave looking young man of five +or six and twenty, with an air of more fashion and sense than his +wife, but of less willingness to please or be pleased. He entered the +room with a look of self-consequence, slightly bowed to the ladies, +without speaking a word, and, after briefly surveying them and their +apartments, took up a newspaper from the table, and continued to read +it as long as he stayed. + +Mrs. Palmer, on the contrary, who was strongly endowed by nature with +a turn for being uniformly civil and happy, was hardly seated before +her admiration of the parlour and every thing in it burst forth. + +"Well! what a delightful room this is! I never saw anything so +charming! Only think, Mamma, how it is improved since I was here last! +I always thought it such a sweet place, ma'am! (turning to Mrs. +Dashwood) but you have made it so charming! Only look, sister, how +delightful every thing is! How I should like such a house for myself! +Should not you, Mr. Palmer?" + +Mr. Palmer made her no answer, and did not even raise his eyes from +the newspaper. + +"Mr. Palmer does not hear me," said she, laughing; "he never does +sometimes. It is so ridiculous!" + +This was quite a new idea to Mrs. Dashwood; she had never been used to +find wit in the inattention of any one, and could not help looking +with surprise at them both. + +Mrs. Jennings, in the meantime, talked on as loud as she could, and +continued her account of their surprise, the evening before, on seeing +their friends, without ceasing till every thing was told. Mrs. Palmer +laughed heartily at the recollection of their astonishment, and every +body agreed, two or three times over, that it had been quite an +agreeable surprise. + +"You may believe how glad we all were to see them," added Mrs. +Jennings, leaning forward towards Elinor, and speaking in a low voice +as if she meant to be heard by no one else, though they were seated on +different sides of the room; "but, however, I can't help wishing they +had not travelled quite so fast, nor made such a long journey of it, +for they came all round by London upon account of some business, for +you know (nodding significantly and pointing to her daughter) it was +wrong in her situation. I wanted her to stay at home and rest this +morning, but she would come with us; she longed so much to see you +all!" + +Mrs. Palmer laughed, and said it would not do her any harm. + +"She expects to be confined in February," continued Mrs. Jennings. + +Lady Middleton could no longer endure such a conversation, and +therefore exerted herself to ask Mr. Palmer if there was any news in +the paper. + +"No, none at all," he replied, and read on. + +"Here comes Marianne," cried Sir John. "Now, Palmer, you shall see a +monstrous pretty girl." + +He immediately went into the passage, opened the front door, and +ushered her in himself. Mrs. Jennings asked her, as soon as she +appeared, if she had not been to Allenham; and Mrs. Palmer laughed so +heartily at the question, as to show she understood it. Mr. Palmer +looked up on her entering the room, stared at her some minutes, and +then returned to his newspaper. Mrs. Palmer's eye was now caught by +the drawings which hung round the room. She got up to examine them. + +[Illustration: "_I declare they are quite charming_."] + +"Oh! dear, how beautiful these are! Well! how delightful! Do but look, +mama, how sweet! I declare they are quite charming; I could look at +them for ever." And then sitting down again, she very soon forgot that +there were any such things in the room. + +When Lady Middleton rose to go away, Mr. Palmer rose also, laid down +the newspaper, stretched himself and looked at them all around. + +"My love, have you been asleep?" said his wife, laughing. + +He made her no answer; and only observed, after again examining the +room, that it was very low pitched, and that the ceiling was crooked. +He then made his bow, and departed with the rest. + +Sir John had been very urgent with them all to spend the next day at +the park. Mrs. Dashwood, who did not choose to dine with them oftener +than they dined at the cottage, absolutely refused on her own account; +her daughters might do as they pleased. But they had no curiosity to +see how Mr. and Mrs. Palmer ate their dinner, and no expectation of +pleasure from them in any other way. They attempted, therefore, +likewise, to excuse themselves; the weather was uncertain, and not +likely to be good. But Sir John would not be satisfied--the carriage +should be sent for them and they must come. Lady Middleton too, though +she did not press their mother, pressed them. Mrs. Jennings and Mrs. +Palmer joined their entreaties, all seemed equally anxious to avoid a +family party; and the young ladies were obliged to yield. + +"Why should they ask us?" said Marianne, as soon as they were gone. +"The rent of this cottage is said to be low; but we have it on very +hard terms, if we are to dine at the park whenever any one is staying +either with them, or with us." + +"They mean no less to be civil and kind to us now," said Elinor, "by +these frequent invitations, than by those which we received from them +a few weeks ago. The alteration is not in them, if their parties are +grown tedious and dull. We must look for the change elsewhere." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +As the Miss Dashwoods entered the drawing-room of the park the next +day, at one door, Mrs. Palmer came running in at the other, looking as +good humoured and merry as before. She took them all most +affectionately by the hand, and expressed great delight in seeing them +again. + +"I am so glad to see you!" said she, seating herself between Elinor +and Marianne, "for it is so bad a day I was afraid you might not come, +which would be a shocking thing, as we go away again tomorrow. We must +go, for the Westons come to us next week you know. It was quite a +sudden thing our coming at all, and I knew nothing of it till the +carriage was coming to the door, and then Mr. Palmer asked me if I +would go with him to Barton. He is so droll! He never tells me any +thing! I am so sorry we cannot stay longer; however we shall meet +again in town very soon, I hope." + +They were obliged to put an end to such an expectation. + +"Not go to town!" cried Mrs. Palmer, with a laugh, "I shall be quite +disappointed if you do not. I could get the nicest house in world for +you, next door to ours, in Hanover-square. You must come, indeed. I am +sure I shall be very happy to chaperon you at any time till I am +confined, if Mrs. Dashwood should not like to go into public." + +They thanked her; but were obliged to resist all her entreaties. + +"Oh, my love," cried Mrs. Palmer to her husband, who just then entered +the room--"you must help me to persuade the Miss Dashwoods to go to +town this winter." + +Her love made no answer; and after slightly bowing to the ladies, +began complaining of the weather. + +"How horrid all this is!" said he. "Such weather makes every thing and +every body disgusting. Dullness is as much produced within doors as +without, by rain. It makes one detest all one's acquaintance. What the +devil does Sir John mean by not having a billiard room in his house? +How few people know what comfort is! Sir John is as stupid as the +weather." + +The rest of the company soon dropt in. + +"I am afraid, Miss Marianne," said Sir John, "you have not been able +to take your usual walk to Allenham today." + +Marianne looked very grave and said nothing. + +"Oh, don't be so sly before us," said Mrs. Palmer; "for we know all +about it, I assure you; and I admire your taste very much, for I think +he is extremely handsome. We do not live a great way from him in the +country, you know. Not above ten miles, I dare say." + +"Much nearer thirty," said her husband. + +"Ah, well! there is not much difference. I never was at his house; but +they say it is a sweet pretty place." + +"As vile a spot as I ever saw in my life," said Mr. Palmer. + +Marianne remained perfectly silent, though her countenance betrayed +her interest in what was said. + +"Is it very ugly?" continued Mrs. Palmer--"then it must be some other +place that is so pretty I suppose." + +When they were seated in the dining room, Sir John observed with +regret that they were only eight all together. + +"My dear," said he to his lady, "it is very provoking that we should +be so few. Why did not you ask the Gilberts to come to us today?" + +"Did not I tell you, Sir John, when you spoke to me about it before, +that it could not be done? They dined with us last." + +"You and I, Sir John," said Mrs. Jennings, "should not stand upon such +ceremony." + +"Then you would be very ill-bred," cried Mr. Palmer. + +"My love you contradict every body," said his wife with her usual +laugh. "Do you know that you are quite rude?" + +"I did not know I contradicted any body in calling your mother +ill-bred." + +"Ay, you may abuse me as you please," said the good-natured old lady, +"you have taken Charlotte off my hands, and cannot give her back +again. So there I have the whip hand of you." + +Charlotte laughed heartily to think that her husband could not get rid +of her; and exultingly said, she did not care how cross he was to her, +as they must live together. It was impossible for any one to be more +thoroughly good-natured, or more determined to be happy than Mrs. +Palmer. The studied indifference, insolence, and discontent of her +husband gave her no pain; and when he scolded or abused her, she was +highly diverted. + +"Mr. Palmer is so droll!" said she, in a whisper, to Elinor. "He is +always out of humour." + +Elinor was not inclined, after a little observation, to give him +credit for being so genuinely and unaffectedly ill-natured or ill-bred +as he wished to appear. His temper might perhaps be a little soured by +finding, like many others of his sex, that through some unaccountable +bias in favour of beauty, he was the husband of a very silly +woman,--but she knew that this kind of blunder was too common for any +sensible man to be lastingly hurt by it. It was rather a wish of +distinction, she believed, which produced his contemptuous treatment +of every body, and his general abuse of every thing before him. It was +the desire of appearing superior to other people. The motive was too +common to be wondered at; but the means, however they might succeed by +establishing his superiority in ill-breeding, were not likely to +attach any one to him except his wife. + +"Oh, my dear Miss Dashwood," said Mrs. Palmer soon afterwards, "I have +got such a favour to ask of you and your sister. Will you come and +spend some time at Cleveland this Christmas? Now, pray do,--and come +while the Westons are with us. You cannot think how happy I shall be! +It will be quite delightful!--My love," applying to her husband, +"don't you long to have the Miss Dashwoods come to Cleveland?" + +"Certainly," he replied, with a sneer--"I came into Devonshire with no +other view." + +"There now,"--said his lady, "you see Mr. Palmer expects you; so you +cannot refuse to come." + +They both eagerly and resolutely declined her invitation. + +"But indeed you must and shall come. I am sure you will like it of all +things. The Westons will be with us, and it will be quite delightful. +You cannot think what a sweet place Cleveland is; and we are so gay +now, for Mr. Palmer is always going about the country canvassing +against the election; and so many people came to dine with us that I +never saw before, it is quite charming! But, poor fellow! it is very +fatiguing to him! for he is forced to make every body like him." + +Elinor could hardly keep her countenance as she assented to the +hardship of such an obligation. + +"How charming it will be," said Charlotte, "when he is in +Parliament!--won't it? How I shall laugh! It will be so ridiculous to +see all his letters directed to him with an M.P. But do you know, he +says, he will never frank for me? He declares he won't. Don't you, Mr. +Palmer?" + +Mr. Palmer took no notice of her. + +"He cannot bear writing, you know," she continued; "he says it is +quite shocking." + +"No," said he, "I never said any thing so irrational. Don't palm all +your abuses of languages upon me." + +"There now; you see how droll he is. This is always the way with him! +Sometimes he won't speak to me for half a day together, and then he +comes out with something so droll--all about any thing in the world." + +She surprised Elinor very much as they returned into the drawing-room, +by asking her whether she did not like Mr. Palmer excessively. + +"Certainly," said Elinor; "he seems very agreeable." + +"Well--I am so glad you do. I thought you would, he is so pleasant; +and Mr. Palmer is excessively pleased with you and your sisters I can +tell you, and you can't think how disappointed he will be if you don't +come to Cleveland. I can't imagine why you should object to it." + +Elinor was again obliged to decline her invitation; and by changing +the subject, put a stop to her entreaties. She thought it probable +that as they lived in the same county, Mrs. Palmer might be able to +give some more particular account of Willoughby's general character, +than could be gathered from the Middletons' partial acquaintance with +him; and she was eager to gain from any one, such a confirmation of +his merits as might remove the possibility of fear from Marianne. She +began by inquiring if they saw much of Mr. Willoughby at Cleveland, +and whether they were intimately acquainted with him. + +"Oh dear, yes; I know him extremely well," replied Mrs. Palmer;--"Not +that I ever spoke to him, indeed; but I have seen him for ever in +town. Somehow or other I never happened to be staying at Barton while +he was at Allenham. Mama saw him here once before, but I was with my +uncle at Weymouth. However, I dare say we should have seen a great +deal of him in Somersetshire, if it had not happened very unluckily +that we should never have been in the country together. He is very +little at Combe, I believe; but if he were ever so much there, I do +not think Mr. Palmer would visit him, for he is in the opposition, you +know, and besides it is such a way off. I know why you inquire about +him, very well; your sister is to marry him. I am monstrous glad of +it, for then I shall have her for a neighbour you know." + +"Upon my word," replied Elinor, "you know much more of the matter than +I do, if you have any reason to expect such a match." + +"Don't pretend to deny it, because you know it is what every body +talks of. I assure you I heard of it in my way through town." + +"My dear Mrs. Palmer!" + +"Upon my honour I did. I met Colonel Brandon Monday morning in +Bond-street, just before we left town, and he told me of it directly." + +"You surprise me very much. Colonel Brandon tell you of it! Surely you +must be mistaken. To give such intelligence to a person who could not +be interested in it, even if it were true, is not what I should expect +Colonel Brandon to do." + +"But I do assure you it was so, for all that, and I will tell you how +it happened. When we met him, he turned back and walked with us; and +so we began talking of my brother and sister, and one thing and +another, and I said to him, 'So, Colonel, there is a new family come +to Barton cottage, I hear, and mama sends me word they are very +pretty, and that one of them is going to be married to Mr. Willoughby +of Combe Magna. Is it true, pray? for of course you must know, as you +have been in Devonshire so lately.'" + +"And what did the Colonel say?" + +"Oh--he did not say much; but he looked as if he knew it to be true, +so from that moment I set it down as certain. It will be quite +delightful, I declare! When is it to take place?" + +"Mr. Brandon was very well I hope?" + +"Oh! yes, quite well; and so full of your praises, he did nothing but +say fine things of you." + +"I am flattered by his commendation. He seems an excellent man; and I +think him uncommonly pleasing." + +"So do I. He is such a charming man, that it is quite a pity he should +be so grave and so dull. Mamma says _he_ was in love with your sister +too. I assure you it was a great compliment if he was, for he hardly +ever falls in love with any body." + +"Is Mr. Willoughby much known in your part of Somersetshire?" said +Elinor. + +"Oh! yes, extremely well; that is, I do not believe many people are +acquainted with him, because Combe Magna is so far off; but they all +think him extremely agreeable I assure you. Nobody is more liked than +Mr. Willoughby wherever he goes, and so you may tell your sister. She +is a monstrous lucky girl to get him, upon my honour; not but that he +is much more lucky in getting her, because she is so very handsome and +agreeable, that nothing can be good enough for her. However, I don't +think her hardly at all handsomer than you, I assure you; for I think +you both excessively pretty, and so does Mr. Palmer too I am sure, +though we could not get him to own it last night." + +Mrs. Palmer's information respecting Willoughby was not very material; +but any testimony in his favour, however small, was pleasing to her. + +"I am so glad we are got acquainted at last," continued Charlotte. +"And now I hope we shall always be great friends. You can't think how +much I longed to see you! It is so delightful that you should live at +the cottage! Nothing can be like it, to be sure! And I am so glad your +sister is going to be well married! I hope you will be a great deal at +Combe Magna. It is a sweet place, by all accounts." + +"You have been long acquainted with Colonel Brandon, have not you?" + +"Yes, a great while; ever since my sister married. He was a particular +friend of Sir John's. I believe," she added in a low voice, "he would +have been very glad to have had me, if he could. Sir John and Lady +Middleton wished it very much. But mama did not think the match good +enough for me, otherwise Sir John would have mentioned it to the +Colonel, and we should have been married immediately." + +"Did not Colonel Brandon know of Sir John's proposal to your mother +before it was made? Had he never owned his affection to yourself?" + +"Oh, no; but if mama had not objected to it, I dare say he would have +liked it of all things. He had not seen me then above twice, for it +was before I left school. However, I am much happier as I am. Mr. +Palmer is the kind of man I like." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +The Palmers returned to Cleveland the next day, and the two families +at Barton were again left to entertain each other. But this did not +last long; Elinor had hardly got their last visitors out of her head, +had hardly done wondering at Charlotte's being so happy without a +cause, at Mr. Palmer's acting so simply, with good abilities, and at +the strange unsuitableness which often existed between husband and +wife, before Sir John's and Mrs. Jennings's active zeal in the cause +of society, procured her some other new acquaintance to see and +observe. + +In a morning's excursion to Exeter, they had met with two young +ladies, whom Mrs. Jennings had the satisfaction of discovering to be +her relations, and this was enough for Sir John to invite them +directly to the park, as soon as their present engagements at Exeter +were over. Their engagements at Exeter instantly gave way before such +an invitation, and Lady Middleton was thrown into no little alarm on +the return of Sir John, by hearing that she was very soon to receive a +visit from two girls whom she had never seen in her life, and of whose +elegance--whose tolerable gentility even--she could have no proof; for +the assurances of her husband and mother on that subject went for +nothing at all. Their being her relations too made it so much the +worse; and Mrs. Jennings's attempts at consolation were therefore +unfortunately founded, when she advised her daughter not to care about +their being so fashionable; because they were all cousins and must put +up with one another. As it was impossible, however, now to prevent +their coming, Lady Middleton resigned herself to the idea of it, with +all the philosophy of a well-bred woman, contenting herself with +merely giving her husband a gentle reprimand on the subject five or +six times every day. + +The young ladies arrived: their appearance was by no means ungenteel +or unfashionable. Their dress was very smart, their manners very +civil, they were delighted with the house, and in raptures with the +furniture, and they happened to be so doatingly fond of children that +Lady Middleton's good opinion was engaged in their favour before they +had been an hour at the Park. She declared them to be very agreeable +girls indeed, which for her ladyship was enthusiastic admiration. Sir +John's confidence in his own judgment rose with this animated praise, +and he set off directly for the cottage to tell the Miss Dashwoods of +the Miss Steeles' arrival, and to assure them of their being the +sweetest girls in the world. From such commendation as this, however, +there was not much to be learned; Elinor well knew that the sweetest +girls in the world were to be met with in every part of England, under +every possible variation of form, face, temper and understanding. Sir +John wanted the whole family to walk to the Park directly and look at +his guests. Benevolent, philanthropic man! It was painful to him even +to keep a third cousin to himself. + +"Do come now," said he--"pray come--you must come--I declare you shall +come--You can't think how you will like them. Lucy is monstrous +pretty, and so good humoured and agreeable! The children are all +hanging about her already, as if she was an old acquaintance. And they +both long to see you of all things, for they have heard at Exeter that +you are the most beautiful creatures in the world; and I have told +them it is all very true, and a great deal more. You will be delighted +with them I am sure. They have brought the whole coach full of +playthings for the children. How can you be so cross as not to come? +Why they are your cousins, you know, after a fashion. _You_ are my +cousins, and they are my wife's, so you must be related." + +But Sir John could not prevail. He could only obtain a promise of +their calling at the Park within a day or two, and then left them in +amazement at their indifference, to walk home and boast anew of their +attractions to the Miss Steeles, as he had been already boasting of +the Miss Steeles to them. + +When their promised visit to the Park and consequent introduction to +these young ladies took place, they found in the appearance of the +eldest, who was nearly thirty, with a very plain and not a sensible +face, nothing to admire; but in the other, who was not more than two +or three and twenty, they acknowledged considerable beauty; her +features were pretty, and she had a sharp quick eye, and a smartness +of air, which though it did not give actual elegance or grace, gave +distinction to her person. Their manners were particularly civil, and +Elinor soon allowed them credit for some kind of sense, when she saw +with what constant and judicious attention they were making themselves +agreeable to Lady Middleton. With her children they were in continual +raptures, extolling their beauty, courting their notice, and humouring +their whims; and such of their time as could be spared from the +importunate demands which this politeness made on it, was spent in +admiration of whatever her ladyship was doing, if she happened to be +doing any thing, or in taking patterns of some elegant new dress, in +which her appearance the day before had thrown them into unceasing +delight. Fortunately for those who pay their court through such +foibles, a fond mother, though, in pursuit of praise for her children, +the most rapacious of human beings, is likewise the most credulous; +her demands are exorbitant; but she will swallow any thing; and the +excessive affection and endurance of the Miss Steeles towards her +offspring were viewed therefore by Lady Middleton without the smallest +surprise or distrust. She saw with maternal complacency all the +impertinent encroachments and mischievous tricks to which her cousins +submitted. She saw their sashes untied, their hair pulled about their +ears, their work-bags searched, and their knives and scissors stolen +away, and felt no doubt of its being a reciprocal enjoyment. It +suggested no other surprise than that Elinor and Marianne should sit +so composedly by, without claiming a share in what was passing. + +"John is in such spirits today!" said she, on his taking Miss Steele's +pocket handkerchief, and throwing it out of window--"He is full of +monkey tricks." + +And soon afterwards, on the second boy's violently pinching one of the +same lady's fingers, she fondly observed, "How playful William is!" + +[Illustration: _Mischievous tricks._] + +"And here is my sweet little Annamaria," she added, tenderly caressing +a little girl of three years old, who had not made a noise for the +last two minutes; "And she is always so gentle and quiet--Never was +there such a quiet little thing!" + +But unfortunately in bestowing these embraces, a pin in her ladyship's +head dress slightly scratching the child's neck, produced from this +pattern of gentleness such violent screams, as could hardly be outdone +by any creature professedly noisy. The mother's consternation was +excessive; but it could not surpass the alarm of the Miss Steeles, and +every thing was done by all three, in so critical an emergency, which +affection could suggest as likely to assuage the agonies of the little +sufferer. She was seated in her mother's lap, covered with kisses, her +wound bathed with lavender-water, by one of the Miss Steeles, who was +on her knees to attend her, and her mouth stuffed with sugar plums by +the other. With such a reward for her tears, the child was too wise to +cease crying. She still screamed and sobbed lustily, kicked her two +brothers for offering to touch her, and all their united soothings +were ineffectual till Lady Middleton luckily remembering that in a +scene of similar distress last week, some apricot marmalade had been +successfully applied for a bruised temple, the same remedy was eagerly +proposed for this unfortunate scratch, and a slight intermission of +screams in the young lady on hearing it, gave them reason to hope that +it would not be rejected. She was carried out of the room therefore in +her mother's arms, in quest of this medicine, and as the two boys +chose to follow, though earnestly entreated by their mother to stay +behind, the four young ladies were left in a quietness which the room +had not known for many hours. + +"Poor little creatures!" said Miss Steele, as soon as they were gone. +"It might have been a very sad accident." + +"Yet I hardly know how," cried Marianne, "unless it had been under +totally different circumstances. But this is the usual way of +heightening alarm, where there is nothing to be alarmed at in +reality." + +"What a sweet woman Lady Middleton is!" said Lucy Steele. + +Marianne was silent; it was impossible for her to say what she did not +feel, however trivial the occasion; and upon Elinor therefore the +whole task of telling lies when politeness required it, always fell. +She did her best when thus called on, by speaking of Lady Middleton +with more warmth than she felt, though with far less than Miss Lucy. + +"And Sir John too," cried the elder sister, "what a charming man he +is!" + +Here too, Miss Dashwood's commendation, being only simple and just, +came in without any éclat. She merely observed that he was perfectly +good humoured and friendly. + +"And what a charming little family they have! I never saw such fine +children in my life. I declare I quite doat upon them already, and +indeed I am always distractedly fond of children." + +"I should guess so," said Elinor, with a smile, "from what I have +witnessed this morning." + +"I have a notion," said Lucy, "you think the little Middletons rather +too much indulged; perhaps they may be the outside of enough; but it +is so natural in Lady Middleton; and for my part, I love to see +children full of life and spirits; I cannot bear them if they are tame +and quiet." + +"I confess," replied Elinor, "that while I am at Barton Park, I never +think of tame and quiet children with any abhorrence." + +A short pause succeeded this speech, which was first broken by Miss +Steele, who seemed very much disposed for conversation, and who now +said rather abruptly, "And how do you like Devonshire, Miss Dashwood? +I suppose you were very sorry to leave Sussex." + +In some surprise at the familiarity of this question, or at least of +the manner in which it was spoken, Elinor replied that she was. + +"Norland is a prodigious beautiful place, is not it?" added Miss +Steele. + +"We have heard Sir John admire it excessively," said Lucy, who seemed +to think some apology necessary for the freedom of her sister. + +"I think every one _must_ admire it," replied Elinor, "who ever saw +the place; though it is not to be supposed that any one can estimate +its beauties as we do." + +"And had you a great many smart beaux there? I suppose you have not so +many in this part of the world; for my part, I think they are a vast +addition always." + +"But why should you think," said Lucy, looking ashamed of her sister, +"that there are not as many genteel young men in Devonshire as +Sussex?" + +"Nay, my dear, I'm sure I don't pretend to say that there an't. I'm +sure there's a vast many smart beaux in Exeter; but you know, how +could I tell what smart beaux there might be about Norland; and I was +only afraid the Miss Dashwoods might find it dull at Barton, if they +had not so many as they used to have. But perhaps you young ladies may +not care about the beaux, and had as lief be without them as with +them. For my part, I think they are vastly agreeable, provided they +dress smart and behave civil. But I can't bear to see them dirty and +nasty. Now there's Mr. Rose at Exeter, a prodigious smart young man, +quite a beau, clerk to Mr. Simpson, you know, and yet if you do but +meet him of a morning, he is not fit to be seen. I suppose your +brother was quite a beau, Miss Dashwood, before he married, as he was +so rich?" + +"Upon my word," replied Elinor, "I cannot tell you, for I do not +perfectly comprehend the meaning of the word. But this I can say, that +if he ever was a beau before he married, he is one still for there is +not the smallest alteration in him." + +"Oh! dear! one never thinks of married men's being beaux--they have +something else to do." + +"Lord! Anne," cried her sister, "you can talk of nothing but +beaux;--you will make Miss Dashwood believe you think of nothing +else." And then to turn the discourse, she began admiring the house +and the furniture. + +This specimen of the Miss Steeles was enough. The vulgar freedom and +folly of the eldest left her no recommendation, and as Elinor was not +blinded by the beauty, or the shrewd look of the youngest, to her want +of real elegance and artlessness, she left the house without any wish +of knowing them better. + +Not so the Miss Steeles. They came from Exeter, well provided with +admiration for the use of Sir John Middleton, his family, and all his +relations, and no niggardly proportion was now dealt out to his fair +cousins, whom they declared to be the most beautiful, elegant, +accomplished, and agreeable girls they had ever beheld, and with whom +they were particularly anxious to be better acquainted. And to be +better acquainted therefore, Elinor soon found was their inevitable +lot, for as Sir John was entirely on the side of the Miss Steeles, +their party would be too strong for opposition, and that kind of +intimacy must be submitted to, which consists of sitting an hour or +two together in the same room almost every day. Sir John could do no +more; but he did not know that any more was required: to be together +was, in his opinion, to be intimate, and while his continual schemes +for their meeting were effectual, he had not a doubt of their being +established friends. + +To do him justice, he did every thing in his power to promote their +unreserve, by making the Miss Steeles acquainted with whatever he knew +or supposed of his cousins' situations in the most delicate +particulars,--and Elinor had not seen them more than twice, before the +eldest of them wished her joy on her sister's having been so lucky as +to make a conquest of a very smart beau since she came to Barton. + +"'Twill be a fine thing to have her married so young to be sure," said +she, "and I hear he is quite a beau, and prodigious handsome. And I +hope you may have as good luck yourself soon,--but perhaps you may +have a friend in the corner already." + +Elinor could not suppose that Sir John would be more nice in +proclaiming his suspicions of her regard for Edward, than he had been +with respect to Marianne; indeed it was rather his favourite joke of +the two, as being somewhat newer and more conjectural; and since +Edward's visit, they had never dined together without his drinking to +her best affections with so much significancy and so many nods and +winks, as to excite general attention. The letter F had been likewise +invariably brought forward, and found productive of such countless +jokes, that its character as the wittiest letter in the alphabet had +been long established with Elinor. + +The Miss Steeles, as she expected, had now all the benefit of these +jokes, and in the eldest of them they raised a curiosity to know the +name of the gentleman alluded to, which, though often impertinently +expressed, was perfectly of a piece with her general inquisitiveness +into the concerns of their family. But Sir John did not sport long +with the curiosity which he delighted to raise, for he had at least as +much pleasure in telling the name, as Miss Steele had in hearing it. + +"His name is Ferrars," said he, in a very audible whisper; "but pray +do not tell it, for it's a great secret." + +[Illustration: _Drinking to her best affections._] + +"Ferrars!" repeated Miss Steele; "Mr. Ferrars is the happy man, is he? +What! your sister-in-law's brother, Miss Dashwood? a very agreeable +young man to be sure; I know him very well." + +"How can you say so, Anne?" cried Lucy, who generally made an +amendment to all her sister's assertions. "Though we have seen him +once or twice at my uncle's, it is rather too much to pretend to know +him very well." + +Elinor heard all this with attention and surprise. "And who was this +uncle? Where did he live? How came they acquainted?" She wished very +much to have the subject continued, though she did not choose to join +in it herself; but nothing more of it was said, and for the first time +in her life, she thought Mrs. Jennings deficient either in curiosity +after petty information, or in a disposition to communicate it. The +manner in which Miss Steele had spoken of Edward, increased her +curiosity; for it struck her as being rather ill-natured, and +suggested the suspicion of that lady's knowing, or fancying herself to +know something to his disadvantage. But her curiosity was unavailing, +for no farther notice was taken of Mr. Ferrars's name by Miss Steele +when alluded to, or even openly mentioned by Sir John. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Marianne, who had never much toleration for any thing like +impertinence, vulgarity, inferiority of parts, or even difference of +taste from herself, was at this time particularly ill-disposed, from +the state of her spirits, to be pleased with the Miss Steeles, or to +encourage their advances; and to the invariable coldness of her +behaviour towards them, which checked every endeavour at intimacy on +their side, Elinor principally attributed that preference of herself +which soon became evident in the manners of both, but especially of +Lucy, who missed no opportunity of engaging her in conversation, or of +striving to improve their acquaintance by an easy and frank +communication of her sentiments. + +Lucy was naturally clever; her remarks were often just and amusing; +and as a companion for half an hour Elinor frequently found her +agreeable; but her powers had received no aid from education: she was +ignorant and illiterate; and her deficiency of all mental improvement, +her want of information in the most common particulars, could not be +concealed from Miss Dashwood, in spite of her constant endeavour to +appear to advantage. Elinor saw, and pitied her for, the neglect of +abilities which education might have rendered so respectable; but she +saw, with less tenderness of feeling, the thorough want of delicacy, +of rectitude, and integrity of mind, which her attentions, her +assiduities, her flatteries at the Park betrayed; and she could have +no lasting satisfaction in the company of a person who joined +insincerity with ignorance; whose want of instruction prevented their +meeting in conversation on terms of equality, and whose conduct toward +others made every show of attention and deference towards herself +perfectly valueless. + +"You will think my question an odd one, I dare say," said Lucy to her +one day, as they were walking together from the park to the +cottage--"but pray, are you personally acquainted with your +sister-in-law's mother, Mrs. Ferrars?" + +Elinor _did_ think the question a very odd one, and her countenance +expressed it, as she answered that she had never seen Mrs. Ferrars. + +"Indeed!" replied Lucy; "I wonder at that, for I thought you must have +seen her at Norland sometimes. Then, perhaps, you cannot tell me what +sort of a woman she is?" + +"No," returned Elinor, cautious of giving her real opinion of Edward's +mother, and not very desirous of satisfying what seemed impertinent +curiosity; "I know nothing of her." + +"I am sure you think me very strange, for enquiring about her in such +a way," said Lucy, eyeing Elinor attentively as she spoke; "but +perhaps there may be reasons--I wish I might venture; but however I +hope you will do me the justice of believing that I do not mean to be +impertinent." + +Elinor made her a civil reply, and they walked on for a few minutes in +silence. It was broken by Lucy, who renewed the subject again by +saying, with some hesitation-- + +"I cannot bear to have you think me impertinently curious. I am sure I +would rather do any thing in the world than be thought so by a person +whose good opinion is so well worth having as yours. And I am sure I +should not have the smallest fear of trusting _you_; indeed, I should +be very glad of your advice how to manage in such and uncomfortable +situation as I am; but, however, there is no occasion to trouble +_you._ I am sorry you do not happen to know Mrs. Ferrars." + +"I am sorry I do _not_," said Elinor, in great astonishment, "if it +could be of any use to _you_ to know my opinion of her. But really I +never understood that you were at all connected with that family, and +therefore I am a little surprised, I confess, at so serious an inquiry +into her character." + +"I dare say you are, and I am sure I do not at all wonder at it. But +if I dared tell you all, you would not be so much surprised. Mrs. +Ferrars is certainly nothing to me at present--but the time _may_ +come--how soon it will come must depend upon herself--when we may be +very intimately connected." + +She looked down as she said this, amiably bashful, with only one side +glance at her companion to observe its effect on her. + +"Good heavens!" cried Elinor, "what do you mean? Are you acquainted +with Mr. Robert Ferrars? Can you be?" And she did not feel much +delighted with the idea of such a sister-in-law. + +"No," replied Lucy, "not to Mr. _Robert_ Ferrars--I never saw him in +my life; but," fixing her eyes upon Elinor, "to his eldest brother." + +What felt Elinor at that moment? Astonishment, that would have been as +painful as it was strong, had not an immediate disbelief of the +assertion attended it. She turned towards Lucy in silent amazement, +unable to divine the reason or object of such a declaration; and +though her complexion varied, she stood firm in incredulity, and felt +in no danger of an hysterical fit, or a swoon. + +"You may well be surprised," continued Lucy; "for to be sure you could +have had no idea of it before; for I dare say he never dropped the +smallest hint of it to you or any of your family; because it was +always meant to be a great secret, and I am sure has been faithfully +kept so by me to this hour. Not a soul of all my relations know of it +but Anne, and I never should have mentioned it to you, if I had not +felt the greatest dependence in the world upon your secrecy; and I +really thought my behaviour in asking so many questions about Mrs. +Ferrars must seem so odd, that it ought to be explained. And I do not +think Mr. Ferrars can be displeased, when he knows I have trusted +you, because I know he has the highest opinion in the world of all +your family, and looks upon yourself and the other Miss Dashwoods +quite as his own sisters."--She paused. + +[Illustration: _Amiably bashful._] + +Elinor for a few moments remained silent. Her astonishment at what she +heard was at first too great for words; but at length forcing herself +to speak, and to speak cautiously, she said, with calmness of manner, +which tolerably well concealed her surprise and solicitude--"May I ask +if your engagement is of long standing?" + +"We have been engaged these four years." + +"Four years!" + +"Yes." + +Elinor, though greatly shocked, still felt unable to believe it. + +"I did not know," said she, "that you were even acquainted till the +other day." + +"Our acquaintance, however, is of many years date. He was under my +uncle's care, you know, a considerable while." + +"Your uncle!" + +"Yes; Mr. Pratt. Did you never hear him talk of Mr. Pratt?" + +"I think I have," replied Elinor, with an exertion of spirits, which +increased with her increase of emotion. + +"He was four years with my uncle, who lives at Longstaple, near +Plymouth. It was there our acquaintance begun, for my sister and me +was often staying with my uncle, and it was there our engagement was +formed, though not till a year after he had quitted as a pupil; but he +was almost always with us afterwards. I was very unwilling to enter +into it, as you may imagine, without the knowledge and approbation of +his mother; but I was too young, and loved him too well, to be so +prudent as I ought to have been. Though you do not know him so well as +me, Miss Dashwood, you must have seen enough of him to be sensible he +is very capable of making a woman sincerely attached to him." + +"Certainly," answered Elinor, without knowing what she said; but after +a moment's reflection, she added, with revived security of Edward's +honour and love, and her companion's falsehood--"Engaged to Mr. Edward +Ferrars!--I confess myself so totally surprised at what you tell me, +that really--I beg your pardon; but surely there must be some mistake +of person or name. We cannot mean the same Mr. Ferrars." + +"We can mean no other," cried Lucy, smiling. "Mr. Edward Ferrars, the +eldest son of Mrs. Ferrars, of Park Street, and brother of your +sister-in-law, Mrs. John Dashwood, is the person I mean; you must +allow that I am not likely to be deceived as to the name of the man on +who all my happiness depends." + +"It is strange," replied Elinor, in a most painful perplexity, "that I +should never have heard him even mention your name." + +"No; considering our situation, it was not strange. Our first care has +been to keep the matter secret. You knew nothing of me, or my family, +and, therefore, there could be no _occasion_ for ever mentioning my +name to you; and, as he was always particularly afraid of his sister's +suspecting any thing, _that_ was reason enough for his not mentioning +it." + +She was silent. Elinor's security sunk; but her self-command did not +sink with it. + +"Four years you have been engaged," said she with a firm voice. + +"Yes; and heaven knows how much longer we may have to wait. Poor +Edward! It puts him quite out of heart." Then taking a small miniature +from her pocket, she added, "To prevent the possibility of mistake, be +so good as to look at this face. It does not do him justice, to be +sure, but yet I think you cannot be deceived as to the person it was +drew for. I have had it above these three years." + +She put it into her hands as she spoke; and when Elinor saw the +painting, whatever other doubts her fear of a too hasty decision, or +her wish of detecting falsehood might suffer to linger in her mind, +she could have none of its being Edward's face. She returned it almost +instantly, acknowledging the likeness. + +"I have never been able," continued Lucy, "to give him my picture in +return, which I am very much vexed at, for he has been always so +anxious to get it! But I am determined to set for it the very first +opportunity." + +"You are quite in the right," replied Elinor calmly. They then +proceeded a few paces in silence. Lucy spoke first. + +"I am sure," said she, "I have no doubt in the world of your +faithfully keeping this secret, because you must know of what +importance it is to us, not to have it reach his mother; for she +would never approve of it, I dare say. I shall have no fortune, and I +fancy she is an exceeding proud woman." + +"I certainly did not seek your confidence," said Elinor; "but you do +me no more than justice in imagining that I may be depended on. Your +secret is safe with me; but pardon me if I express some surprise at so +unnecessary a communication. You must at least have felt that my being +acquainted with it could not add to its safety." + +As she said this, she looked earnestly at Lucy, hoping to discover +something in her countenance; perhaps the falsehood of the greatest +part of what she had been saying; but Lucy's countenance suffered no +change. + +"I was afraid you would think I was taking a great liberty with you," +said she, "in telling you all this. I have not known you long to be +sure, personally at least, but I have known you and all your family by +description a great while; and as soon as I saw you, I felt almost as +if you was an old acquaintance. Besides in the present case, I really +thought some explanation was due to you after my making such +particular inquiries about Edward's mother; and I am so unfortunate, +that I have not a creature whose advice I can ask. Anne is the only +person that knows of it, and she has no judgment at all; indeed, she +does me a great deal more harm than good, for I am in constant fear of +her betraying me. She does not know how to hold her tongue, as you +must perceive, and I am sure I was in the greatest fright in the world +t'other day, when Edward's name was mentioned by Sir John, lest she +should out with it all. You can't think how much I go through in my +mind from it altogether. I only wonder that I am alive after what I +have suffered for Edward's sake these last four years. Every thing in +such suspense and uncertainty; and seeing him so seldom--we can hardly +meet above twice a-year. I am sure I wonder my heart is not quite +broke." + +Here she took out her handkerchief; but Elinor did not feel very +compassionate. + +"Sometimes," continued Lucy, after wiping her eyes, "I think whether +it would not be better for us both to break off the matter entirely." +As she said this, she looked directly at her companion. "But then at +other times I have not resolution enough for it. I cannot bear the +thoughts of making him so miserable, as I know the very mention of +such a thing would do. And on my own account too--so dear as he is to +me--I don't think I could be equal to it. What would you advise me to +do in such a case, Miss Dashwood? What would you do yourself?" + +"Pardon me," replied Elinor, startled by the question; "but I can give +you no advice under such circumstances. Your own judgment must direct +you." + +"To be sure," continued Lucy, after a few minutes silence on both +sides, "his mother must provide for him sometime or other; but poor +Edward is so cast down by it! Did you not think him dreadful +low-spirited when he was at Barton? He was so miserable when he left +us at Longstaple, to go to you, that I was afraid you would think him +quite ill." + +"Did he come from your uncle's, then, when he visited us?" + +"Oh, yes; he had been staying a fortnight with us. Did you think he +came directly from town?" + +"No," replied Elinor, most feelingly sensible of every fresh +circumstance in favour of Lucy's veracity; "I remember he told us, +that he had been staying a fortnight with some friends near Plymouth." +She remembered too, her own surprise at the time, at his mentioning +nothing farther of those friends, at his total silence with respect +even to their names. + +"Did not you think him sadly out of spirits?" repeated Lucy. + +"We did, indeed, particularly so when he first arrived." + +"I begged him to exert himself for fear you should suspect what was +the matter; but it made him so melancholy, not being able to stay more +than a fortnight with us, and seeing me so much affected. Poor +fellow!--I am afraid it is just the same with him now; for he writes +in wretched spirits. I heard from him just before I left Exeter;" +taking a letter from her pocket and carelessly showing the direction +to Elinor. "You know his hand, I dare say, a charming one it is; but +that is not written so well as usual. He was tired, I dare say, for he +had just filled the sheet to me as full as possible." + +Elinor saw that it _was_ his hand, and she could doubt no longer. This +picture, she had allowed herself to believe, might have been +accidentally obtained; it might not have been Edward's gift; but a +correspondence between them by letter, could subsist only under a +positive engagement, could be authorised by nothing else; for a few +moments, she was almost overcome--her heart sunk within her, and she +could hardly stand; but exertion was indispensably necessary; and she +struggled so resolutely against the oppression of her feelings, that +her success was speedy, and for the time complete. + +"Writing to each other," said Lucy, returning the letter into her +pocket, "is the only comfort we have in such long separations. Yes, I +have one other comfort in his picture, but poor Edward has not even +_that._ If he had but my picture, he says he should be easy. I gave +him a lock of my hair set in a ring when he was at Longstaple last, +and that was some comfort to him, he said, but not equal to a picture. +Perhaps you might notice the ring when you saw him?" + +"I did," said Elinor, with a composure of voice, under which was +concealed an emotion and distress beyond any thing she had ever felt +before. She was mortified, shocked, confounded. + +Fortunately for her, they had now reached the cottage, and the +conversation could be continued no farther. After sitting with them a +few minutes, the Miss Steeles returned to the Park, and Elinor was +then at liberty to think and be wretched. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +However small Elinor's general dependence on Lucy's veracity might be, +it was impossible for her on serious reflection to suspect it in the +present case, where no temptation could be answerable to the folly of +inventing a falsehood of such a description. What Lucy had asserted to +be true, therefore, Elinor could not, dared not longer doubt; +supported as it was too on every side by such probabilities and +proofs, and contradicted by nothing but her own wishes. Their +opportunity of acquaintance in the house of Mr. Pratt was a foundation +for the rest, at once indisputable and alarming; and Edward's visit +near Plymouth, his melancholy state of mind, his dissatisfaction at +his own prospects, his uncertain behaviour towards herself, the +intimate knowledge of the Miss Steeles as to Norland and their family +connections, which had often surprised her, the picture, the letter, +the ring, formed altogether such a body of evidence, as overcame +every fear of condemning him unfairly, and established as a fact, +which no partiality could set aside, his ill-treatment of herself. Her +resentment of such behaviour, her indignation at having been its dupe, +for a short time made her feel only for herself; but other ideas, +other considerations, soon arose. Had Edward been intentionally +deceiving her? Had he feigned a regard for her which he did not feel? +Was his engagement to Lucy an engagement of the heart? No; whatever it +might once have been, she could not believe it such at present. His +affection was all her own. She could not be deceived in that. Her +mother, sisters, Fanny, all had been conscious of his regard for her +at Norland; it was not an illusion of her own vanity. He certainly +loved her. What a softener of the heart was this persuasion! How much +could it not tempt her to forgive! He had been blamable, highly +blamable, in remaining at Norland after he first felt her influence +over him to be more than it ought to be. In that, he could not be +defended; but if he had injured her, how much more had he injured +himself; if her case were pitiable, his was hopeless. His imprudence +had made her miserable for a while; but it seemed to have deprived +himself of all chance of ever being otherwise. She might in time +regain tranquillity; but _he_, what had he to look forward to? Could +he ever be tolerably happy with Lucy Steele; could he, were his +affection for herself out of the question, with his integrity, his +delicacy, and well-informed mind, be satisfied with a wife like +her--illiterate, artful, and selfish? + +The youthful infatuation of nineteen would naturally blind him to +every thing but her beauty and good nature; but the four succeeding +years--years, which if rationally spent, give such improvement to the +understanding, must have opened his eyes to her defects of education, +while the same period of time, spent on her side in inferior society +and more frivolous pursuits, had perhaps robbed her of that simplicity +which might once have given an interesting character to her beauty. + +If in the supposition of his seeking to marry herself, his +difficulties from his mother had seemed great, how much greater were +they now likely to be, when the object of his engagement was +undoubtedly inferior in connections, and probably inferior in fortune +to herself. These difficulties, indeed, with a heart so alienated +from Lucy, might not press very hard upon his patience; but melancholy +was the state of the person by whom the expectation of family +opposition and unkindness, could be felt as a relief! + +As these considerations occurred to her in painful succession, she +wept for him, more than for herself. Supported by the conviction of +having done nothing to merit her present unhappiness, and consoled by +the belief that Edward had done nothing to forfeit her esteem, she +thought she could even now, under the first smart of the heavy blow, +command herself enough to guard every suspicion of the truth from her +mother and sisters. And so well was she able to answer her own +expectations, that when she joined them at dinner only two hours after +she had first suffered the extinction of all her dearest hopes, no one +would have supposed from the appearance of the sisters, that Elinor +was mourning in secret over obstacles which must divide her for ever +from the object of her love, and that Marianne was internally dwelling +on the perfections of a man, of whose whole heart she felt thoroughly +possessed, and whom she expected to see in every carriage which drove +near their house. + +The necessity of concealing from her mother and Marianne, what had +been entrusted in confidence to herself, though it obliged her to +unceasing exertion, was no aggravation of Elinor's distress. On the +contrary it was a relief to her, to be spared the communication of +what would give such affliction to them, and to be saved likewise from +hearing that condemnation of Edward, which would probably flow from +the excess of their partial affection for herself, and which was more +than she felt equal to support. + +From their counsel, or their conversation, she knew she could receive +no assistance, their tenderness and sorrow must add to her distress, +while her self-command would neither receive encouragement from their +example nor from their praise. She was stronger alone, and her own +good sense so well supported her, that her firmness was as unshaken, +her appearance of cheerfulness as invariable, as with regrets so +poignant and so fresh, it was possible for them to be. + +Much as she had suffered from her first conversation with Lucy on the +subject, she soon felt an earnest wish of renewing it; and this for +more reasons than one. She wanted to hear many particulars of their +engagement repeated again, she wanted more clearly to understand what +Lucy really felt for Edward, whether there were any sincerity in her +declaration of tender regard for him, and she particularly wanted to +convince Lucy, by her readiness to enter on the matter again, and her +calmness in conversing on it, that she was no otherwise interested in +it than as a friend, which she very much feared her involuntary +agitation, in their morning discourse, must have left at least +doubtful. That Lucy was disposed to be jealous of her appeared very +probable: it was plain that Edward had always spoken highly in her +praise, not merely from Lucy's assertion, but from her venturing to +trust her on so short a personal acquaintance, with a secret so +confessedly and evidently important. And even Sir John's joking +intelligence must have had some weight. But indeed, while Elinor +remained so well assured within herself of being really beloved by +Edward, it required no other consideration of probabilities to make it +natural that Lucy should be jealous; and that she was so, her very +confidence was a proof. What other reason for the disclosure of the +affair could there be, but that Elinor might be informed by it of +Lucy's superior claims on Edward, and be taught to avoid him in +future? She had little difficulty in understanding thus much of her +rival's intentions, and while she was firmly resolved to act by her as +every principle of honour and honesty directed, to combat her own +affection for Edward and to see him as little as possible; she could +not deny herself the comfort of endeavouring to convince Lucy that her +heart was unwounded. And as she could now have nothing more painful to +hear on the subject than had already been told, she did not mistrust +her own ability of going through a repetition of particulars with +composure. + +But it was not immediately that an opportunity of doing so could be +commanded, though Lucy was as well disposed as herself to take +advantage of any that occurred; for the weather was not often fine +enough to allow of their joining in a walk, where they might most +easily separate themselves from the others; and though they met at +least every other evening either at the park or cottage, and chiefly +at the former, they could not be supposed to meet for the sake of +conversation. Such a thought would never enter either Sir John or +Lady Middleton's head; and therefore very little leisure was ever +given for a general chat, and none at all for particular discourse. +They met for the sake of eating, drinking, and laughing together, +playing at cards, or consequences, or any other game that was +sufficiently noisy. + +One or two meetings of this kind had taken place, without affording +Elinor any chance of engaging Lucy in private, when Sir John called at +the cottage one morning, to beg, in the name of charity, that they +would all dine with Lady Middleton that day, as he was obliged to +attend the club at Exeter, and she would otherwise be quite alone, +except her mother and the two Miss Steeles. Elinor, who foresaw a +fairer opening for the point she had in view, in such a party as this +was likely to be, more at liberty among themselves under the tranquil +and well-bred direction of Lady Middleton than when her husband united +them together in one noisy purpose, immediately accepted the +invitation; Margaret, with her mother's permission, was equally +compliant, and Marianne, though always unwilling to join any of their +parties, was persuaded by her mother, who could not bear to have her +seclude herself from any chance of amusement, to go likewise. + +The young ladies went, and Lady Middleton was happily preserved from +the frightful solitude which had threatened her. The insipidity of the +meeting was exactly such as Elinor had expected; it produced not one +novelty of thought or expression, and nothing could be less +interesting than the whole of their discourse both in the dining +parlour and drawing room: to the latter, the children accompanied +them, and while they remained there, she was too well convinced of the +impossibility of engaging Lucy's attention to attempt it. They quitted +it only with the removal of the tea-things. The card-table was then +placed, and Elinor began to wonder at herself for having ever +entertained a hope of finding time for conversation at the park. They +all rose up in preparation for a round game. + +"I am glad," said Lady Middleton to Lucy, "you are not going to finish +poor little Annamaria's basket this evening; for I am sure it must +hurt your eyes to work filigree by candlelight. And we will make the +dear little love some amends for her disappointment to-morrow, and +then I hope she will not much mind it." + +This hint was enough, Lucy recollected herself instantly and replied, +"Indeed you are very much mistaken, Lady Middleton; I am only waiting +to know whether you can make your party without me, or I should have +been at my filigree already. I would not disappoint the little angel +for all the world: and if you want me at the card-table now, I am +resolved to finish the basket after supper." + +"You are very good, I hope it won't hurt your eyes:--will you ring the +bell for some working candles? My poor little girl would be sadly +disappointed, I know, if the basket was not finished tomorrow, for +though I told her it certainly would not, I am sure she depends upon +having it done." + +Lucy directly drew her work table near her and reseated herself with +an alacrity and cheerfulness which seemed to infer that she could +taste no greater delight than in making a filigree basket for a spoilt +child. + +Lady Middleton proposed a rubber of Casino to the others. No one made +any objection but Marianne, who with her usual inattention to the +forms of general civility, exclaimed, "Your Ladyship will have the +goodness to excuse _me_--you know I detest cards. I shall go to the +piano-forte; I have not touched it since it was tuned." And without +farther ceremony, she turned away and walked to the instrument. + +Lady Middleton looked as if she thanked heaven that _she_ had never +made so rude a speech. + +"Marianne can never keep long from that instrument you know, ma'am," +said Elinor, endeavouring to smooth away the offence; "and I do not +much wonder at it; for it is the very best toned piano-forte I ever +heard." + +The remaining five were now to draw their cards. + +"Perhaps," continued Elinor, "if I should happen to cut out, I may be +of some use to Miss Lucy Steele, in rolling her papers for her; and +there is so much still to be done to the basket, that it must be +impossible I think for her labour singly, to finish it this evening. I +should like the work exceedingly, if she would allow me a share in +it." + +"Indeed I shall be very much obliged to you for your help," cried +Lucy, "for I find there is more to be done to it than I thought there +was; and it would be a shocking thing to disappoint dear Annamaria +after all." + +"Oh! that would be terrible, indeed," said Miss Steele. "Dear little +soul, how I do love her!" + +"You are very kind," said Lady Middleton to Elinor; "and as you +really like the work, perhaps you will be as well pleased not to cut +in till another rubber, or will you take your chance now?" + +Elinor joyfully profited by the first of these proposals, and thus by +a little of that address which Marianne could never condescend to +practise, gained her own end, and pleased Lady Middleton at the same +time. Lucy made room for her with ready attention, and the two fair +rivals were thus seated side by side at the same table, and, with the +utmost harmony, engaged in forwarding the same work. The pianoforte at +which Marianne, wrapped up in her own music and her own thoughts, had +by this time forgotten that any body was in the room besides herself, +was luckily so near them that Miss Dashwood now judged she might +safely, under the shelter of its noise, introduce the interesting +subject, without any risk of being heard at the card-table. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +In a firm, though cautious tone, Elinor thus began. + +"I should be undeserving of the confidence you have honoured me with, +if I felt no desire for its continuance, or no farther curiosity on +its subject. I will not apologize therefore for bringing it forward +again." + +"Thank you," cried Lucy warmly, "for breaking the ice; you have set my +heart at ease by it; for I was somehow or other afraid I had offended +you by what I told you that Monday." + +"Offended me! How could you suppose so? Believe me," and Elinor spoke +it with the truest sincerity, "nothing could be farther from my +intention than to give you such an idea. Could you have a motive for +the trust, that was not honourable and flattering to me?" + +"And yet I do assure you," replied Lucy, her little sharp eyes full of +meaning, "there seemed to me to be a coldness and displeasure in your +manner that made me quite uncomfortable. I felt sure that you was +angry with me; and have been quarrelling with myself ever since, for +having took such a liberty as to trouble you with my affairs. But I am +very glad to find it was only my own fancy, and that you really do not +blame me. If you knew what a consolation it was to me to relieve my +heart speaking to you of what I am always thinking of every moment of +my life, your compassion would make you overlook every thing else I am +sure." + +"Indeed, I can easily believe that it was a very great relief to you, +to acknowledge your situation to me, and be assured that you shall +never have reason to repent it. Your case is a very unfortunate one; +you seem to me to be surrounded with difficulties, and you will have +need of all your mutual affection to support you under them. Mr. +Ferrars, I believe, is entirely dependent on his mother." + +"He has only two thousand pounds of his own; it would be madness to +marry upon that, though for my own part, I could give up every +prospect of more without a sigh. I have been always used to a very +small income, and could struggle with any poverty for him; but I love +him too well to be the selfish means of robbing him, perhaps, of all +that his mother might give him if he married to please her. We must +wait, it may be for many years. With almost every other man in the +world, it would be an alarming prospect; but Edward's affection and +constancy nothing can deprive me of I know." + +"That conviction must be every thing to you; and he is undoubtedly +supported by the same trust in your's. If the strength of your +reciprocal attachment had failed, as between many people, and under +many circumstances it naturally would during a four years' engagement, +your situation would have been pitiable, indeed." + +Lucy here looked up; but Elinor was careful in guarding her +countenance from every expression that could give her words a +suspicious tendency. + +"Edward's love for me," said Lucy, "has been pretty well put to the +test, by our long, very long absence since we were first engaged, and +it has stood the trial so well, that I should be unpardonable to doubt +it now. I can safely say that he has never gave me one moment's alarm +on that account from the first." + +Elinor hardly knew whether to smile or sigh at this assertion. + +Lucy went on. "I am rather of a jealous temper too by nature, and from +our different situations in life, from his being so much more in the +world than me, and our continual separation, I was enough inclined for +suspicion, to have found out the truth in an instant, if there had +been the slightest alteration in his behaviour to me when we met, or +any lowness of spirits that I could not account for, or if he had +talked more of one lady than another, or seemed in any respect less +happy at Longstaple than he used to be. I do not mean to say that I am +particularly observant or quick-sighted in general, but in such a case +I am sure I could not be deceived." + +"All this," thought Elinor, "is very pretty; but it can impose upon +neither of us." + +"But what," said she after a short silence, "are your views? or have +you none but that of waiting for Mrs. Ferrars's death, which is a +melancholy and shocking extremity?--Is her son determined to submit to +this, and to all the tediousness of the many years of suspense in +which it may involve you, rather than run the risk of her displeasure +for a while by owning the truth?" + +"If we could be certain that it would be only for a while! But Mrs. +Ferrars is a very headstrong proud woman, and in her first fit of +anger upon hearing it, would very likely secure every thing to Robert, +and the idea of that, for Edward's sake, frightens away all my +inclination for hasty measures." + +"And for your own sake too, or you are carrying your disinterestedness +beyond reason." + +Lucy looked at Elinor again, and was silent. + +"Do you know Mr. Robert Ferrars?" asked Elinor. + +"Not at all--I never saw him; but I fancy he is very unlike his +brother--silly and a great coxcomb." + +"A great coxcomb!" repeated Miss Steele, whose ear had caught those +words by a sudden pause in Marianne's music. "Oh, they are talking of +their favourite beaux, I dare say." + +"No sister," cried Lucy, "you are mistaken there, our favourite beaux +are _not_ great coxcombs." + +"I can answer for it that Miss Dashwood's is not," said Mrs. Jennings, +laughing heartily; "for he is one of the modestest, prettiest behaved +young men I ever saw; but as for Lucy, she is such a sly little +creature, there is no finding out who _she_ likes." + +[Illustration: "_I can answer for it," said Mrs. Jennings._] + +"Oh," cried Miss Steele, looking significantly round at them, "I dare +say Lucy's beau is quite as modest and pretty behaved as Miss +Dashwood's." + +Elinor blushed in spite of herself. Lucy bit her lip, and looked +angrily at her sister. A mutual silence took place for some time. Lucy +first put an end to it by saying in a lower tone, though Marianne was +then giving them the powerful protection of a very magnificent +concerto-- + +"I will honestly tell you of one scheme which has lately come into my +head, for bringing matters to bear; indeed I am bound to let you into +the secret, for you are a party concerned. I dare say you have seen +enough of Edward to know that he would prefer the church to every +other profession; now my plan is that he should take orders as soon as +he can, and then through your interest, which I am sure you would be +kind enough to use out of friendship for him, and I hope out of some +regard to me, your brother might be persuaded to give him Norland +living; which I understand is a very good one, and the present +incumbent not likely to live a great while. That would be enough for +us to marry upon, and we might trust to time and chance for the rest." + +"I should always be happy," replied Elinor, "to show any mark of my +esteem and friendship for Mr. Ferrars; but do you not perceive that my +interest on such an occasion would be perfectly unnecessary? He is +brother to Mrs. John Dashwood--_that_ must be recommendation enough to +her husband." + +"But Mrs. John Dashwood would not much approve of Edward's going into +orders." + +"Then I rather suspect that my interest would do very little." + +They were again silent for many minutes. At length Lucy exclaimed with +a deep sigh-- + +"I believe it would be the wisest way to put an end to the business at +once by dissolving the engagement. We seem so beset with difficulties +on every side, that though it would make us miserable for a time, we +should be happier perhaps in the end. But you will not give me your +advice, Miss Dashwood?" + +"No," answered Elinor, with a smile, which concealed very agitated +feelings, "on such a subject I certainly will not. You know very well +that my opinion would have no weight with you, unless it were on the +side of your wishes." + +"Indeed you wrong me," replied Lucy, with great solemnity; "I know +nobody of whose judgment I think so highly as I do of yours; and I do +really believe, that if you was to say to me, 'I advise you by all +means to put an end to your engagement with Edward Ferrars, it will be +more for the happiness of both of you,' I should resolve upon doing it +immediately." + +Elinor blushed for the insincerity of Edward's future wife, and +replied, "This compliment would effectually frighten me from giving +any opinion on the subject had I formed one. It raises my influence +much too high; the power of dividing two people so tenderly attached +is too much for an indifferent person." + +"'Tis because you are an indifferent person," said Lucy, with some +pique, and laying a particular stress on those words, "that your +judgment might justly have such weight with me. If you could be +supposed to be biased in any respect by your own feelings, your +opinion would not be worth having." + +Elinor thought it wisest to make no answer to this, lest they might +provoke each other to an unsuitable increase of ease and unreserve; +and was even partly determined never to mention the subject again. +Another pause therefore of many minutes' duration, succeeded this +speech, and Lucy was still the first to end it. + +"Shall you be in town this winter, Miss Dashwood?" said she with all +her accustomary complacency. + +"Certainly not." + +"I am sorry for that," returned the other, while her eyes brightened +at the information, "it would have gave me such pleasure to meet you +there! But I dare say you will go for all that. To be sure, your +brother and sister will ask you to come to them." + +"It will not be in my power to accept their invitation if they do." + +"How unlucky that is! I had quite depended upon meeting you there. +Anne and me are to go the latter end of January to some relations who +have been wanting us to visit them these several years! But I only go +for the sake of seeing Edward. He will be there in February, otherwise +London would have no charms for me; I have not spirits for it." + +Elinor was soon called to the card-table by the conclusion of the +first rubber, and the confidential discourse of the two ladies was +therefore at an end, to which both of them submitted without any +reluctance, for nothing had been said on either side to make them +dislike each other less than they had done before; and Elinor sat down +to the card table with the melancholy persuasion that Edward was not +only without affection for the person who was to be his wife; but that +he had not even the chance of being tolerably happy in marriage, which +sincere affection on _her_ side would have given, for self-interest +alone could induce a woman to keep a man to an engagement, of which +she seemed so thoroughly aware that he was weary. + +From this time the subject was never revived by Elinor, and when +entered on by Lucy, who seldom missed an opportunity of introducing +it, and was particularly careful to inform her confidante, of her +happiness whenever she received a letter from Edward, it was treated +by the former with calmness and caution, and dismissed as soon as +civility would allow; for she felt such conversations to be an +indulgence which Lucy did not deserve, and which were dangerous to +herself. + +The visit of the Miss Steeles at Barton Park was lengthened far beyond +what the first invitation implied. Their favour increased; they could +not be spared; Sir John would not hear of their going; and in spite of +their numerous and long arranged engagements in Exeter, in spite of +the absolute necessity of returning to fulfill them immediately, which +was in full force at the end of every week, they were prevailed on to +stay nearly two months at the park, and to assist in the due +celebration of that festival which requires a more than ordinary share +of private balls and large dinners to proclaim its importance. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +Though Mrs. Jennings was in the habit of spending a large portion of +the year at the houses of her children and friends, she was not +without a settled habitation of her own. Since the death of her +husband, who had traded with success in a less elegant part of the +town, she had resided every winter in a house in one of the streets +near Portman Square. Towards this home, she began on the approach of +January to turn her thoughts, and thither she one day abruptly, and +very unexpectedly by them, asked the elder Misses Dashwood to +accompany her. Elinor, without observing the varying complexion of her +sister, and the animated look which spoke no indifference to the plan, +immediately gave a grateful but absolute denial for both, in which she +believed herself to be speaking their united inclinations. The reason +alleged was their determined resolution of not leaving their mother at +that time of the year. Mrs. Jennings received the refusal with some +surprise, and repeated her invitation immediately. + +"Oh, Lord! I am sure your mother can spare you very well, and I _do_ +beg you will favour me with your company, for I've quite set my heart +upon it. Don't fancy that you will be any inconvenience to me, for I +shan't put myself at all out of my way for you. It will only be +sending Betty by the coach, and I hope I can afford _that._ We three +shall be able to go very well in my chaise; and when we are in town, +if you do not like to go wherever I do, well and good, you may always +go with one of my daughters. I am sure your mother will not object to +it; for I have had such good luck in getting my own children off my +hands that she will think me a very fit person to have the charge of +you; and if I don't get one of you at least well married before I have +done with you, it shall not be my fault. I shall speak a good word for +you to all the young men, you may depend upon it." + +"I have a notion," said Sir John, "that Miss Marianne would not object +to such a scheme, if her elder sister would come into it. It is very +hard indeed that she should not have a little pleasure, because Miss +Dashwood does not wish it. So I would advise you two, to set off for +town, when you are tired of Barton, without saying a word to Miss +Dashwood about it." + +"Nay," cried Mrs. Jennings, "I am sure I shall be monstrous glad of +Miss Marianne's company, whether Miss Dashwood will go or not, only +the more the merrier say I, and I thought it would be more comfortable +for them to be together; because, if they got tired of me, they might +talk to one another, and laugh at my old ways behind my back. But one +or the other, if not both of them, I must have. Lord bless me! how do +you think I can live poking by myself, I who have been always used +till this winter to have Charlotte with me. Come, Miss Marianne, let +us strike hands upon the bargain, and if Miss Dashwood will change her +mind by and bye, why so much the better." + +"I thank you, ma'am, sincerely thank you," said Marianne, with warmth: +"your invitation has insured my gratitude for ever, and it would give +me such happiness, yes, almost the greatest happiness I am capable of, +to be able to accept it. But my mother, my dearest, kindest mother,--I +feel the justice of what Elinor has urged, and if she were to be made +less happy, less comfortable by our absence--Oh! no, nothing should +tempt me to leave her. It should not, must not be a struggle." + +Mrs. Jennings repeated her assurance that Mrs. Dashwood could spare +them perfectly well; and Elinor, who now understood her sister, and +saw to what indifference to almost every thing else she was carried by +her eagerness to be with Willoughby again, made no farther direct +opposition to the plan, and merely referred it to her mother's +decision, from whom however she scarcely expected to receive any +support in her endeavour to prevent a visit, which she could not +approve of for Marianne, and which on her own account she had +particular reasons to avoid. Whatever Marianne was desirous of, her +mother would be eager to promote--she could not expect to influence +the latter to cautiousness of conduct in an affair respecting which +she had never been able to inspire her with distrust; and she dared +not explain the motive of her own disinclination for going to London. +That Marianne, fastidious as she was, thoroughly acquainted with Mrs. +Jennings' manners, and invariably disgusted by them, should overlook +every inconvenience of that kind, should disregard whatever must be +most wounding to her irritable feelings, in her pursuit of one object, +was such a proof, so strong, so full, of the importance of that object +to her, as Elinor, in spite of all that had passed, was not prepared +to witness. + +On being informed of the invitation, Mrs. Dashwood, persuaded that +such an excursion would be productive of much amusement to both her +daughters, and perceiving through all her affectionate attention to +herself, how much the heart of Marianne was in it, would not hear of +their declining the offer upon _her_ account; insisted on their both +accepting it directly; and then began to foresee, with her usual +cheerfulness, a variety of advantages that would accrue to them all, +from this separation. + +"I am delighted with the plan," she cried, "it is exactly what I could +wish. Margaret and I shall be as much benefited by it as yourselves. +When you and the Middletons are gone, we shall go on so quietly and +happily together with our books and our music! You will find Margaret +so improved when you come back again! I have a little plan of +alteration for your bedrooms too, which may now be performed without +any inconvenience to any one. It is very right that you _should_ go to +town; I would have every young woman of your condition in life +acquainted with the manners and amusements of London. You will be +under the care of a motherly good sort of woman, of whose kindness to +you I can have no doubt. And in all probability you will see your +brother, and whatever may be his faults, or the faults of his wife, +when I consider whose son he is, I cannot bear to have you so wholly +estranged from each other." + +"Though with your usual anxiety for our happiness," said Elinor, "you +have been obviating every impediment to the present scheme which +occurred to you, there is still one objection which, in my opinion, +cannot be so easily removed." + +Marianne's countenance sunk. + +"And what," said Mrs. Dashwood, "is my dear prudent Elinor going to +suggest? What formidable obstacle is she now to bring forward? Do let +me hear a word about the expense of it." + +"My objection is this; though I think very well of Mrs. Jennings's +heart, she is not a woman whose society can afford us pleasure, or +whose protection will give us consequence." + +"That is very true," replied her mother, "but of her society, +separately from that of other people, you will scarcely have any thing +at all, and you will almost always appear in public with Lady +Middleton." + +"If Elinor is frightened away by her dislike of Mrs. Jennings," said +Marianne, "at least it need not prevent _my_ accepting her invitation. +I have no such scruples, and I am sure I could put up with every +unpleasantness of that kind with very little effort." + +Elinor could not help smiling at this display of indifference towards +the manners of a person, to whom she had often had difficulty in +persuading Marianne to behave with tolerable politeness; and resolved +within herself, that if her sister persisted in going, she would go +likewise, as she did not think it proper that Marianne should be left +to the sole guidance of her own judgment, or that Mrs. Jennings should +be abandoned to the mercy of Marianne for all the comfort of her +domestic hours. To this determination she was the more easily +reconciled, by recollecting that Edward Ferrars, by Lucy's account, +was not to be in town before February; and that their visit, without +any unreasonable abridgement, might be previously finished. + +"I will have you _both_ go," said Mrs. Dashwood; "these objections are +nonsensical. You will have much pleasure in being in London, and +especially in being together; and if Elinor would ever condescend to +anticipate enjoyment, she would foresee it there from a variety of +sources; she would, perhaps, expect some from improving her +acquaintance with her sister-in-law's family." + +Elinor had often wished for an opportunity of attempting to weaken her +mother's dependence on the attachment of Edward and herself, that the +shock might be less when the whole truth were revealed, and now on +this attack, though almost hopeless of success, she forced herself to +begin her design by saying, as calmly as she could, "I like Edward +Ferrars very much, and shall always be glad to see him; but as to the +rest of the family, it is a matter of perfect indifference to me, +whether I am ever known to them or not." + +Mrs. Dashwood smiled, and said nothing. Marianne lifted up her eyes in +astonishment, and Elinor conjectured that she might as well have held +her tongue. + +After very little farther discourse, it was finally settled that the +invitation should be fully accepted. Mrs. Jennings received the +information with a great deal of joy, and many assurances of kindness +and care; nor was it a matter of pleasure merely to her. Sir John was +delighted; for to a man, whose prevailing anxiety was the dread of +being alone, the acquisition of two, to the number of inhabitants in +London, was something. Even Lady Middleton took the trouble of being +delighted, which was putting herself rather out of her way; and as +for the Miss Steeles, especially Lucy, they had never been so happy in +their lives as this intelligence made them. + +Elinor submitted to the arrangement which counteracted her wishes with +less reluctance than she had expected to feel. With regard to herself, +it was now a matter of unconcern whether she went to town or not, and +when she saw her mother so thoroughly pleased with the plan, and her +sister exhilarated by it in look, voice, and manner, restored to all +her usual animation, and elevated to more than her usual gaiety, she +could not be dissatisfied with the cause, and would hardly allow +herself to distrust the consequence. + +Marianne's joy was almost a degree beyond happiness, so great was the +perturbation of her spirits and her impatience to be gone. Her +unwillingness to quit her mother was her only restorative to calmness; +and at the moment of parting her grief on that score was excessive. +Her mother's affliction was hardly less, and Elinor was the only one +of the three, who seemed to consider the separation as any thing short +of eternal. + +Their departure took place in the first week in January. The +Middletons were to follow in about a week. The Miss Steeles kept their +station at the park, and were to quit it only with the rest of the +family. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +Elinor could not find herself in the carriage with Mrs. Jennings, and +beginning a journey to London under her protection, and as her guest, +without wondering at her own situation, so short had their +acquaintance with that lady been, so wholly unsuited were they in age +and disposition, and so many had been her objections against such a +measure only a few days before! But these objections had all, with +that happy ardour of youth which Marianne and her mother equally +shared, been overcome or overlooked; and Elinor, in spite of every +occasional doubt of Willoughby's constancy, could not witness the +rapture of delightful expectation which filled the whole soul and +beamed in the eyes of Marianne, without feeling how blank was her own +prospect, how cheerless her own state of mind in the comparison, and +how gladly she would engage in the solicitude of Marianne's situation +to have the same animating object in view, the same possibility of +hope. A short, a very short time however must now decide what +Willoughby's intentions were; in all probability he was already in +town. Marianne's eagerness to be gone declared her dependence on +finding him there; and Elinor was resolved not only upon gaining every +new light as to his character which her own observation or the +intelligence of others could give her, but likewise upon watching his +behaviour to her sister with such zealous attention, as to ascertain +what he was and what he meant, before many meetings had taken place. +Should the result of her observations be unfavourable, she was +determined at all events to open the eyes of her sister; should it be +otherwise, her exertions would be of a different nature--she must then +learn to avoid every selfish comparison, and banish every regret which +might lessen her satisfaction in the happiness of Marianne. + +They were three days on their journey, and Marianne's behaviour as +they travelled was a happy specimen of what future complaisance and +companionableness to Mrs. Jennings might be expected to be. She sat in +silence almost all the way, wrapt in her own meditations, and scarcely +ever voluntarily speaking, except when any object of picturesque +beauty within their view drew from her an exclamation of delight +exclusively addressed to her sister. To atone for this conduct +therefore, Elinor took immediate possession of the post of civility +which she had assigned herself, behaved with the greatest attention to +Mrs. Jennings, talked with her, laughed with her, and listened to her +whenever she could; and Mrs. Jennings on her side treated them both +with all possible kindness, was solicitous on every occasion for their +ease and enjoyment, and only disturbed that she could not make them +choose their own dinners at the inn, nor extort a confession of their +preferring salmon to cod, or boiled fowls to veal cutlets. They +reached town by three o'clock the third day, glad to be released, +after such a journey, from the confinement of a carriage, and ready to +enjoy all the luxury of a good fire. + +The house was handsome, and handsomely fitted up, and the young +ladies were immediately put in possession of a very comfortable +apartment. It had formerly been Charlotte's, and over the mantelpiece +still hung a landscape in coloured silks of her performance, in proof +of her having spent seven years at a great school in town to some +effect. + +As dinner was not to be ready in less than two hours from their +arrival, Elinor determined to employ the interval in writing to her +mother, and sat down for that purpose. In a few moments Marianne did +the same. "I am writing home, Marianne," said Elinor; "had not you +better defer your letter for a day or two?" + +"I am _not_ going to write to my mother," replied Marianne, hastily, +and as if wishing to avoid any farther inquiry. Elinor said no more; +it immediately struck her that she must then be writing to Willoughby; +and the conclusion which as instantly followed was, that, however +mysteriously they might wish to conduct the affair, they must be +engaged. This conviction, though not entirely satisfactory, gave her +pleasure, and she continued her letter with greater alacrity. +Marianne's was finished in a very few minutes; in length it could be +no more than a note; it was then folded up, sealed, and directed with +eager rapidity. Elinor thought she could distinguish a large W in the +direction; and no sooner was it complete than Marianne, ringing the +bell, requested the footman who answered it to get that letter +conveyed for her to the two-penny post. This decided the matter at +once. + +Her spirits still continued very high; but there was a flutter in them +which prevented their giving much pleasure to her sister, and this +agitation increased as the evening drew on. She could scarcely eat any +dinner, and when they afterwards returned to the drawing room, seemed +anxiously listening to the sound of every carriage. + +It was a great satisfaction to Elinor that Mrs. Jennings, by being +much engaged in her own room, could see little of what was passing. +The tea things were brought in, and already had Marianne been +disappointed more than once by a rap at a neighbouring door, when a +loud one was suddenly heard which could not be mistaken for one at any +other house, Elinor felt secure of its announcing Willoughby's +approach, and Marianne, starting up, moved towards the door. Every +thing was silent; this could not be borne many seconds; she opened +the door, advanced a few steps towards the stairs, and after listening +half a minute, returned into the room in all the agitation which a +conviction of having heard him would naturally produce; in the ecstasy +of her feelings at that instant she could not help exclaiming, "Oh, +Elinor, it is Willoughby, indeed it is!" and seemed almost ready to +throw herself into his arms, when Colonel Brandon appeared. + +It was too great a shock to be borne with calmness, and she +immediately left the room. Elinor was disappointed too; but at the +same time her regard for Colonel Brandon ensured his welcome with her; +and she felt particularly hurt that a man so partial to her sister +should perceive that she experienced nothing but grief and +disappointment in seeing him. She instantly saw that it was not +unnoticed by him, that he even observed Marianne as she quitted the +room, with such astonishment and concern, as hardly left him the +recollection of what civility demanded towards herself. + +"Is your sister ill?" said he. + +Elinor answered in some distress that she was, and then talked of +head-aches, low spirits, and over fatigues; and of every thing to +which she could decently attribute her sister's behaviour. + +He heard her with the most earnest attention, but seeming to recollect +himself, said no more on the subject, and began directly to speak of +his pleasure at seeing them in London, making the usual inquiries +about their journey, and the friends they had left behind. + +In this calm kind of way, with very little interest on either side, +they continued to talk, both of them out of spirits, and the thoughts +of both engaged elsewhere. Elinor wished very much to ask whether +Willoughby were then in town, but she was afraid of giving him pain by +any enquiry after his rival; and at length, by way of saying +something, she asked if he had been in London ever since she had seen +him last. "Yes," he replied, with some embarrassment, "almost ever +since; I have been once or twice at Delaford for a few days, but it +has never been in my power to return to Barton." + +This, and the manner in which it was said, immediately brought back to +her remembrance all the circumstances of his quitting that place, with +the uneasiness and suspicions they had caused to Mrs. Jennings, and +she was fearful that her question had implied much more curiosity on +the subject than she had ever felt. + +Mrs. Jennings soon came in. "Oh! Colonel," said she, with her usual +noisy cheerfulness, "I am monstrous glad to see you--sorry I could not +come before--beg your pardon, but I have been forced to look about me +a little, and settle my matters; for it is a long while since I have +been at home, and you know one has always a world of little odd things +to do after one has been away for any time; and then I have had +Cartwright to settle with. Lord, I have been as busy as a bee ever +since dinner! But pray, Colonel, how came you to conjure out that I +should be in town today?" + +"I had the pleasure of hearing it at Mr. Palmer's, where I have been +dining." + +"Oh, you did; well, and how do they all do at their house? How does +Charlotte do? I warrant you she is a fine size by this time." + +"Mrs. Palmer appeared quite well, and I am commissioned to tell you, +that you will certainly see her to-morrow." + +"Ay, to be sure, I thought as much. Well, Colonel, I have brought two +young ladies with me, you see--that is, you see but one of them now, +but there is another somewhere. Your friend, Miss Marianne, too--which +you will not be sorry to hear. I do not know what you and Mr. +Willoughby will do between you about her. Ay, it is a fine thing to be +young and handsome. Well! I was young once, but I never was very +handsome--worse luck for me. However, I got a very good husband, and I +don't know what the greatest beauty can do more. Ah! poor man! he has +been dead these eight years and better. But Colonel, where have you +been to since we parted? And how does your business go on? Come, come, +let's have no secrets among friends." + +He replied with his accustomary mildness to all her inquiries, but +without satisfying her in any. Elinor now began to make the tea, and +Marianne was obliged to appear again. + +After her entrance, Colonel Brandon became more thoughtful and silent +than he had been before, and Mrs. Jennings could not prevail on him to +stay long. No other visitor appeared that evening, and the ladies were +unanimous in agreeing to go early to bed. + +Marianne rose the next morning with recovered spirits and happy looks. +The disappointment of the evening before seemed forgotten in the +expectation of what was to happen that day. They had not long finished +their breakfast before Mrs. Palmer's barouche stopped at the door, and +in a few minutes she came laughing into the room: so delighted to see +them all, that it was hard to say whether she received most pleasure +from meeting her mother or the Miss Dashwoods again. So surprised at +their coming to town, though it was what she had rather expected all +along; so angry at their accepting her mother's invitation after +having declined her own, though at the same time she would never have +forgiven them if they had not come! + +"Mr. Palmer will be so happy to see you," said she; "What do you think +he said when he heard of your coming with Mamma? I forget what it was +now, but it was something so droll!" + +After an hour or two spent in what her mother called comfortable chat, +or in other words, in every variety of inquiry concerning all their +acquaintance on Mrs. Jennings's side, and in laughter without cause on +Mrs. Palmer's, it was proposed by the latter that they should all +accompany her to some shops where she had business that morning, to +which Mrs. Jennings and Elinor readily consented, as having likewise +some purchases to make themselves; and Marianne, though declining it +at first was induced to go likewise. + +Wherever they went, she was evidently always on the watch. In Bond +Street especially, where much of their business lay, her eyes were in +constant inquiry; and in whatever shop the party were engaged, her +mind was equally abstracted from every thing actually before them, +from all that interested and occupied the others. Restless and +dissatisfied every where, her sister could never obtain her opinion of +any article of purchase, however it might equally concern them both: +she received no pleasure from anything; was only impatient to be at +home again, and could with difficulty govern her vexation at the +tediousness of Mrs. Palmer, whose eye was caught by every thing +pretty, expensive, or new; who was wild to buy all, could determine on +none, and dawdled away her time in rapture and indecision. + +It was late in the morning before they returned home; and no sooner +had they entered the house than Marianne flew eagerly up stairs, and +when Elinor followed, she found her turning from the table with a +sorrowful countenance, which declared that no Willoughby had been +there. + +"Has no letter been left here for me since we went out?" said she to +the footman who then entered with the parcels. She was answered in the +negative. "Are you quite sure of it?" she replied. "Are you certain +that no servant, no porter has left any letter or note?" + +The man replied that none had. + +"How very odd!" said she, in a low and disappointed voice, as she +turned away to the window. + +"How odd, indeed!" repeated Elinor within herself, regarding her +sister with uneasiness. "If she had not known him to be in town she +would not have written to him, as she did; she would have written to +Combe Magna; and if he is in town, how odd that he should neither come +nor write! Oh! my dear mother, you must be wrong in permitting an +engagement between a daughter so young, a man so little known, to be +carried on in so doubtful, so mysterious a manner! I long to inquire; +and how will _my_ interference be borne." + +She determined, after some consideration, that if appearances +continued many days longer as unpleasant as they now were, she would +represent in the strongest manner to her mother the necessity of some +serious enquiry into the affair. + +Mrs. Palmer and two elderly ladies of Mrs. Jennings's intimate +acquaintance, whom she had met and invited in the morning, dined with +them. The former left them soon after tea to fulfill her evening +engagements; and Elinor was obliged to assist in making a whist table +for the others. Marianne was of no use on these occasions, as she +would never learn the game; but though her time was therefore at her +own disposal, the evening was by no means more productive of pleasure +to her than to Elinor, for it was spent in all the anxiety of +expectation and the pain of disappointment. She sometimes endeavoured +for a few minutes to read; but the book was soon thrown aside, and she +returned to the more interesting employment of walking backwards and +forwards across the room, pausing for a moment whenever she came to +the window, in hopes of distinguishing the long-expected rap. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +"If this open weather holds much longer," said Mrs. Jennings, when +they met at breakfast the following morning, "Sir John will not like +leaving Barton next week; 'tis a sad thing for sportsmen to lose a +day's pleasure. Poor souls! I always pity them when they do; they seem +to take it so much to heart." + +"That is true," cried Marianne, in a cheerful voice, and walking to +the window as she spoke, to examine the day. "I had not thought of +that. This weather will keep many sportsmen in the country." + +It was a lucky recollection, all her good spirits were restored by it. +"It is charming weather for _them_ indeed," she continued, as she sat +down to the breakfast table with a happy countenance. "How much they +must enjoy it! But" (with a little return of anxiety) "it cannot be +expected to last long. At this time of the year, and after such a +series of rain, we shall certainly have very little more of it. Frosts +will soon set in, and in all probability with severity. In another day +or two perhaps; this extreme mildness can hardly last longer--nay, +perhaps it may freeze tonight!" + +"At any rate," said Elinor, wishing to prevent Mrs. Jennings from +seeing her sister's thoughts as clearly as she did, "I dare say we +shall have Sir John and Lady Middleton in town by the end of next +week." + +"Ay, my dear, I'll warrant you we do. Mary always has her own way." + +"And now," silently conjectured Elinor, "she will write to Combe by +this day's post." + +But if she _did_, the letter was written and sent away with a privacy +which eluded all her watchfulness to ascertain the fact. Whatever the +truth of it might be, and far as Elinor was from feeling thorough +contentment about it, yet while she saw Marianne in spirits, she could +not be very uncomfortable herself. And Marianne was in spirits; happy +in the mildness of the weather, and still happier in her expectation +of a frost. + +The morning was chiefly spent in leaving cards at the houses of Mrs. +Jennings's acquaintance to inform them of her being in town; and +Marianne was all the time busy in observing the direction of the wind, +watching the variations of the sky and imagining an alteration in the +air. + +"Don't you find it colder than it was in the morning, Elinor? There +seems to me a very decided difference. I can hardly keep my hands warm +even in my muff. It was not so yesterday, I think. The clouds seem +parting too, the sun will be out in a moment, and we shall have a +clear afternoon." + +Elinor was alternately diverted and pained; but Marianne persevered, +and saw every night in the brightness of the fire, and every morning +in the appearance of the atmosphere, the certain symptoms of +approaching frost. + +The Miss Dashwoods had no greater reason to be dissatisfied with Mrs. +Jennings's style of living, and set of acquaintance, than with her +behaviour to themselves, which was invariably kind. Every thing in her +household arrangements was conducted on the most liberal plan, and +excepting a few old city friends, whom, to Lady Middleton's regret, +she had never dropped, she visited no one to whom an introduction +could at all discompose the feelings of her young companions. Pleased +to find herself more comfortably situated in that particular than she +had expected, Elinor was very willing to compound for the want of much +real enjoyment from any of their evening parties, which, whether at +home or abroad, formed only for cards, could have little to amuse her. + +Colonel Brandon, who had a general invitation to the house, was with +them almost every day; he came to look at Marianne and talk to Elinor, +who often derived more satisfaction from conversing with him than from +any other daily occurrence, but who saw at the same time with much +concern his continued regard for her sister. She feared it was a +strengthening regard. It grieved her to see the earnestness with which +he often watched Marianne, and his spirits were certainly worse than +when at Barton. + +About a week after their arrival, it became certain that Willoughby +was also arrived. His card was on the table when they came in from the +morning's drive. + +"Good God!" cried Marianne, "he has been here while we were out." +Elinor, rejoiced to be assured of his being in London, now ventured +to say, "Depend upon it, he will call again tomorrow." But Marianne +seemed hardly to hear her, and on Mrs. Jennings's entrance, escaped +with the precious card. + +This event, while it raised the spirits of Elinor, restored to those +of her sister all, and more than all, their former agitation. From +this moment her mind was never quiet; the expectation of seeing him +every hour of the day, made her unfit for any thing. She insisted on +being left behind, the next morning, when the others went out. + +Elinor's thoughts were full of what might be passing in Berkeley +Street during their absence; but a moment's glance at her sister when +they returned was enough to inform her, that Willoughby had paid no +second visit there. A note was just then brought in, and laid on the +table. + +"For me!" cried Marianne, stepping hastily forward. + +"No, ma'am, for my mistress." + +But Marianne, not convinced, took it instantly up. + +"It is indeed for Mrs. Jennings; how provoking!" + +"You are expecting a letter, then?" said Elinor, unable to be longer +silent. + +"Yes, a little--not much." + +After a short pause. "You have no confidence in me, Marianne." + +"Nay, Elinor, this reproach from _you_--you who have confidence in no +one!" + +"Me!" returned Elinor in some confusion; "indeed, Marianne, I have +nothing to tell." + +"Nor I," answered Marianne with energy, "our situations then are +alike. We have neither of us any thing to tell; you, because you do +not communicate, and I, because I conceal nothing." + +Elinor, distressed by this charge of reserve in herself, which she was +not at liberty to do away, knew not how, under such circumstances, to +press for greater openness in Marianne. + +Mrs. Jennings soon appeared, and the note being given her, she read it +aloud. It was from Lady Middleton, announcing their arrival in Conduit +Street the night before, and requesting the company of her mother and +cousins the following evening. Business on Sir John's part, and a +violent cold on her own, prevented their calling in Berkeley Street. +The invitation was accepted; but when the hour of appointment drew +near, necessary as it was in common civility to Mrs. Jennings, that +they should both attend her on such a visit, Elinor had some +difficulty in persuading her sister to go, for still she had seen +nothing of Willoughby; and therefore was not more indisposed for +amusement abroad, than unwilling to run the risk of his calling again +in her absence. + +Elinor found, when the evening was over, that disposition is not +materially altered by a change of abode, for although scarcely settled +in town, Sir John had contrived to collect around him, nearly twenty +young people, and to amuse them with a ball. This was an affair, +however, of which Lady Middleton did not approve. In the country, an +unpremeditated dance was very allowable; but in London, where the +reputation of elegance was more important and less easily attained, it +was risking too much for the gratification of a few girls, to have it +known that Lady Middleton had given a small dance of eight or nine +couple, with two violins, and a mere side-board collation. + +Mr. and Mrs. Palmer were of the party; from the former, whom they had +not seen before since their arrival in town, as he was careful to +avoid the appearance of any attention to his mother-in-law, and +therefore never came near her, they received no mark of recognition on +their entrance. He looked at them slightly, without seeming to know +who they were, and merely nodded to Mrs. Jennings from the other side +of the room. Marianne gave one glance round the apartment as she +entered: it was enough--_he_ was not there--and she sat down, equally +ill-disposed to receive or communicate pleasure. After they had been +assembled about an hour, Mr. Palmer sauntered towards the Miss +Dashwoods to express his surprise on seeing them in town, though +Colonel Brandon had been first informed of their arrival at his house, +and he had himself said something very droll on hearing that they were +to come. + +"I thought you were both in Devonshire," said he. + +"Did you?" replied Elinor. + +"When do you go back again?" + +"I do not know." And thus ended their discourse. + +Never had Marianne been so unwilling to dance in her life, as she was +that evening, and never so much fatigued by the exercise. She +complained of it as they returned to Berkeley Street. + +"Aye, aye," said Mrs. Jennings, "we know the reason of all that very +well; if a certain person who shall be nameless, had been there, you +would not have been a bit tired: and to say the truth it was not very +pretty of him not to give you the meeting when he was invited." + +"Invited!" cried Marianne. + +"So my daughter Middleton told me, for it seems Sir John met him +somewhere in the street this morning." Marianne said no more, but +looked exceedingly hurt. Impatient in this situation to be doing +something that might lead to her sister's relief, Elinor resolved to +write the next morning to her mother, and hoped by awakening her fears +for the health of Marianne, to procure those inquiries which had been +so long delayed; and she was still more eagerly bent on this measure +by perceiving after breakfast on the morrow, that Marianne was again +writing to Willoughby, for she could not suppose it to be to any other +person. + +About the middle of the day, Mrs. Jennings went out by herself on +business, and Elinor began her letter directly, while Marianne, too +restless for employment, too anxious for conversation, walked from one +window to the other, or sat down by the fire in melancholy meditation. +Elinor was very earnest in her application to her mother, relating all +that had passed, her suspicions of Willoughby's inconstancy, urging +her by every plea of duty and affection to demand from Marianne an +account of her real situation with respect to him. + +Her letter was scarcely finished, when a rap foretold a visitor, and +Colonel Brandon was announced. Marianne, who had seen him from the +window, and who hated company of any kind, left the room before he +entered it. He looked more than usually grave, and though expressing +satisfaction at finding Miss Dashwood alone, as if he had somewhat in +particular to tell her, sat for some time without saying a word. +Elinor, persuaded that he had some communication to make in which her +sister was concerned, impatiently expected its opening. It was not the +first time of her feeling the same kind of conviction; for, more than +once before, beginning with the observation of "your sister looks +unwell to-day," or "your sister seems out of spirits," he had +appeared on the point, either of disclosing, or of inquiring, +something particular about her. After a pause of several minutes, +their silence was broken, by his asking her in a voice of some +agitation, when he was to congratulate her on the acquisition of a +brother? Elinor was not prepared for such a question, and having no +answer ready, was obliged to adopt the simple and common expedient, of +asking what he meant? He tried to smile as he replied, "your sister's +engagement to Mr. Willoughby is very generally known." + +"It cannot be generally known," returned Elinor, "for her own family +do not know it." + +He looked surprised and said, "I beg your pardon, I am afraid my +inquiry has been impertinent; but I had not supposed any secrecy +intended, as they openly correspond, and their marriage is universally +talked of." + +"How can that be? By whom can you have heard it mentioned?" + +"By many--by some of whom you know nothing, by others with whom you +are most intimate, Mrs. Jennings, Mrs. Palmer, and the Middletons. But +still I might not have believed it, for where the mind is perhaps +rather unwilling to be convinced, it will always find something to +support its doubts, if I had not, when the servant let me in today, +accidentally seen a letter in his hand, directed to Mr. Willoughby in +your sister's writing. I came to inquire, but I was convinced before I +could ask the question. Is every thing finally settled? Is it +impossible to-? But I have no right, and I could have no chance of +succeeding. Excuse me, Miss Dashwood. I believe I have been wrong in +saying so much, but I hardly know what to do, and on your prudence I +have the strongest dependence. Tell me that it is all absolutely +resolved on, that any attempt, that in short concealment, if +concealment be possible, is all that remains." + +These words, which conveyed to Elinor a direct avowal of his love for +her sister, affected her very much. She was not immediately able to +say anything, and even when her spirits were recovered, she debated +for a short time, on the answer it would be most proper to give. The +real state of things between Willoughby and her sister was so little +known to herself, that in endeavouring to explain it, she might be as +liable to say too much as too little. Yet as she was convinced that +Marianne's affection for Willoughby, could leave no hope of Colonel +Brandon's success, whatever the event of that affection might be, and +at the same time wished to shield her conduct from censure, she +thought it most prudent and kind, after some consideration, to say +more than she really knew or believed. She acknowledged, therefore, +that though she had never been informed by themselves of the terms on +which they stood with each other, of their mutual affection she had no +doubt, and of their correspondence she was not astonished to hear. + +He listened to her with silent attention, and on her ceasing to speak, +rose directly from his seat, and after saying in a voice of emotion, +"to your sister I wish all imaginable happiness; to Willoughby that he +may endeavour to deserve her,"--took leave, and went away. + +Elinor derived no comfortable feelings from this conversation, to +lessen the uneasiness of her mind on other points; she was left, on +the contrary, with a melancholy impression of Colonel Brandon's +unhappiness, and was prevented even from wishing it removed, by her +anxiety for the very event that must confirm it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +Nothing occurred during the next three or four days, to make Elinor +regret what she had done, in applying to her mother; for Willoughby +neither came nor wrote. They were engaged about the end of that time +to attend Lady Middleton to a party, from which Mrs. Jennings was kept +away by the indisposition of her youngest daughter; and for this +party, Marianne, wholly dispirited, careless of her appearance, and +seeming equally indifferent whether she went or staid, prepared, +without one look of hope or one expression of pleasure. She sat by the +drawing-room fire after tea, till the moment of Lady Middleton's +arrival, without once stirring from her seat, or altering her +attitude, lost in her own thoughts, and insensible of her sister's +presence; and when at last they were told that Lady Middleton waited +for them at the door, she started as if she had forgotten that any one +was expected. + +They arrived in due time at the place of destination, and as soon as +the string of carriages before them would allow, alighted, ascended +the stairs, heard their names announced from one landing-place to +another in an audible voice, and entered a room splendidly lit up, +quite full of company, and insufferably hot. When they had paid their +tribute of politeness by curtsying to the lady of the house, they were +permitted to mingle in the crowd, and take their share of the heat and +inconvenience, to which their arrival must necessarily add. After some +time spent in saying little or doing less, Lady Middleton sat down to +Cassino, and as Marianne was not in spirits for moving about, she and +Elinor luckily succeeding to chairs, placed themselves at no great +distance from the table. + +They had not remained in this manner long, before Elinor perceived +Willoughby, standing within a few yards of them, in earnest +conversation with a very fashionable looking young woman. She soon +caught his eye, and he immediately bowed, but without attempting to +speak to her, or to approach Marianne, though he could not but see +her; and then continued his discourse with the same lady. Elinor +turned involuntarily to Marianne, to see whether it could be +unobserved by her. At that moment she first perceived him, and her +whole countenance glowing with sudden delight, she would have moved +towards him instantly, had not her sister caught hold of her. + +"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, "he is there--he is there--Oh! why does +he not look at me? why cannot I speak to him?" + +"Pray, pray be composed," cried Elinor, "and do not betray what you +feel to every body present. Perhaps he has not observed you yet." + +This however was more than she could believe herself; and to be +composed at such a moment was not only beyond the reach of Marianne, +it was beyond her wish. She sat in an agony of impatience which +affected every feature. + +[Illustration: _At that moment she first perceived him._] + +At last he turned round again, and regarded them both; she started up, +and pronouncing his name in a tone of affection, held out her hand to +him. He approached, and addressing himself rather to Elinor than +Marianne, as if wishing to avoid her eye, and determined not to +observe her attitude, inquired in a hurried manner after Mrs. +Dashwood, and asked how long they had been in town. Elinor was robbed +of all presence of mind by such an address, and was unable to say a +word. But the feelings of her sister were instantly expressed. Her +face was crimsoned over, and she exclaimed, in a voice of the greatest +emotion, "Good God! Willoughby, what is the meaning of this? Have you +not received my letters? Will you not shake hands with me?" + +He could not then avoid it, but her touch seemed painful to him, and +he held her hand only for a moment. During all this time he was +evidently struggling for composure. Elinor watched his countenance and +saw its expression becoming more tranquil. After a moment's pause, he +spoke with calmness. + +"I did myself the honour of calling in Berkeley Street last Tuesday, +and very much regretted that I was not fortunate enough to find +yourselves and Mrs. Jennings at home. My card was not lost, I hope." + +"But have you not received my notes?" cried Marianne in the wildest +anxiety. "Here is some mistake I am sure--some dreadful mistake. What +can be the meaning of it? Tell me, Willoughby; for heaven's sake tell +me, what is the matter?" + +He made no reply; his complexion changed and all his embarrassment +returned; but as if, on catching the eye of the young lady with whom +he had been previously talking, he felt the necessity of instant +exertion, he recovered himself again, and after saying, "Yes, I had +the pleasure of receiving the information of your arrival in town, +which you were so good as to send me," turned hastily away with a +slight bow and joined his friend. + +Marianne, now looking dreadfully white, and unable to stand, sunk into +her chair, and Elinor, expecting every moment to see her faint, tried +to screen her from the observation of others, while reviving her with +lavender water. + +"Go to him, Elinor," she cried, as soon as she could speak, "and force +him to come to me. Tell him I must see him again--must speak to him +instantly. I cannot rest--I shall not have a moment's peace till this +is explained--some dreadful misapprehension or other. Oh, go to him +this moment." + +"How can that be done? No, my dearest Marianne, you must wait. This is +not the place for explanations. Wait only till tomorrow." + +With difficulty however could she prevent her from following him +herself; and to persuade her to check her agitation, to wait, at +least, with the appearance of composure, till she might speak to him +with more privacy and more effect, was impossible; for Marianne +continued incessantly to give way in a low voice to the misery of her +feelings, by exclamations of wretchedness. In a short time Elinor saw +Willoughby quit the room by the door towards the staircase, and +telling Marianne that he was gone, urged the impossibility of speaking +to him again that evening, as a fresh argument for her to be calm. She +instantly begged her sister would entreat Lady Middleton to take them +home, as she was too miserable to stay a minute longer. + +Lady Middleton, though in the middle of a rubber, on being informed +that Marianne was unwell, was too polite to object for a moment to her +wish of going away, and making over her cards to a friend, they +departed as soon as the carriage could be found. Scarcely a word was +spoken during their return to Berkeley Street. Marianne was in a +silent agony, too much oppressed even for tears; but as Mrs. Jennings +was luckily not come home, they could go directly to their own room, +where hartshorn restored her a little to herself. She was soon +undressed and in bed, and as she seemed desirous of being alone, her +sister then left her, and while she waited the return of Mrs. +Jennings, had leisure enough for thinking over the past. + +That some kind of engagement had subsisted between Willoughby and +Marianne she could not doubt, and that Willoughby was weary of it, +seemed equally clear; for however Marianne might still feed her own +wishes, _she_ could not attribute such behaviour to mistake or +misapprehension of any kind. Nothing but a thorough change of +sentiment could account for it. Her indignation would have been still +stronger than it was, had she not witnessed that embarrassment which +seemed to speak a consciousness of his own misconduct, and prevented +her from believing him so unprincipled as to have been sporting with +the affections of her sister from the first, without any design that +would bear investigation. Absence might have weakened his regard, and +convenience might have determined him to overcome it, but that such a +regard had formerly existed she could not bring herself to doubt. + +As for Marianne, on the pangs which so unhappy a meeting must already +have given her, and on those still more severe which might await her +in its probable consequence, she could not reflect without the deepest +concern. Her own situation gained in the comparison; for while she +could _esteem_ Edward as much as ever, however they might be divided +in future, her mind might be always supported. But every circumstance +that could embitter such an evil seemed uniting to heighten the misery +of Marianne in a final separation from Willoughby--in an immediate and +irreconcilable rupture with him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +Before the housemaid had lit their fire the next day, or the sun +gained any power over a cold, gloomy morning in January, Marianne, +only half dressed, was kneeling against one of the window-seats for +the sake of all the little light she could command from it, and +writing as fast as a continual flow of tears would permit her. In this +situation, Elinor, roused from sleep by her agitation and sobs, first +perceived her; and after observing her for a few moments with silent +anxiety, said, in a tone of the most considerate gentleness-- + +"Marianne, may I ask--" + +"No, Elinor," she replied, "ask nothing; you will soon know all." + +The sort of desperate calmness with which this was said, lasted no +longer than while she spoke, and was immediately followed by a return +of the same excessive affliction. It was some minutes before she could +go on with her letter, and the frequent bursts of grief which still +obliged her, at intervals, to withhold her pen, were proofs enough of +her feeling how more than probable it was that she was writing for the +last time to Willoughby. + +Elinor paid her every quiet and unobtrusive attention in her power; +and she would have tried to sooth and tranquilize her still more, had +not Marianne entreated her, with all the eagerness of the most nervous +irritability, not to speak to her for the world. In such +circumstances, it was better for both that they should not be long +together; and the restless state of Marianne's mind not only prevented +her from remaining in the room a moment after she was dressed, but +requiring at once solitude and continual change of place, made her +wander about the house till breakfast time, avoiding the sight of +every body. + +At breakfast she neither ate, nor attempted to eat any thing; and +Elinor's attention was then all employed, not in urging her, not in +pitying her, nor in appearing to regard her, but in endeavouring to +engage Mrs. Jennings's notice entirely to herself. + +As this was a favourite meal with Mrs. Jennings, it lasted a +considerable time, and they were just setting themselves, after it, +round the common working table, when a letter was delivered to +Marianne, which she eagerly caught from the servant, and, turning of a +death-like paleness, instantly ran out of the room. Elinor, who saw as +plainly by this, as if she had seen the direction, that it must come +from Willoughby, felt immediately such a sickness at heart as made her +hardly able to hold up her head, and sat in such a general tremor as +made her fear it impossible to escape Mrs. Jennings's notice. That +good lady, however, saw only that Marianne had received a letter from +Willoughby, which appeared to her a very good joke, and which she +treated accordingly, by hoping, with a laugh, that she would find it +to her liking. Of Elinor's distress, she was too busily employed in +measuring lengths of worsted for her rug, to see any thing at all; and +calmly continuing her talk, as soon as Marianne disappeared, she +said-- + +"Upon my word, I never saw a young woman so desperately in love in my +life! _My_ girls were nothing to her, and yet they used to be foolish +enough; but as for Miss Marianne, she is quite an altered creature. I +hope, from the bottom of my heart, he won't keep her waiting much +longer, for it is quite grievous to see her look so ill and forlorn. +Pray, when are they to be married?" + +Elinor, though never less disposed to speak than at that moment, +obliged herself to answer such an attack as this, and, therefore, +trying to smile, replied, "And have you really, Ma'am, talked yourself +into a persuasion of my sister's being engaged to Mr. Willoughby? I +thought it had been only a joke, but so serious a question seems to +imply more; and I must beg, therefore, that you will not deceive +yourself any longer. I do assure you that nothing would surprise me +more than to hear of their being going to be married." + +"For shame, for shame, Miss Dashwood! how can you talk so? Don't we +all know that it must be a match, that they were over head and ears in +love with each other from the first moment they met? Did not I see +them together in Devonshire every day, and all day long; and did not I +know that your sister came to town with me on purpose to buy wedding +clothes? Come, come, this won't do. Because you are so sly about it +yourself, you think nobody else has any senses; but it is no such +thing, I can tell you, for it has been known all over town this ever +so long. I tell every body of it and so does Charlotte." + +"Indeed, Ma'am," said Elinor, very seriously, "you are mistaken. +Indeed, you are doing a very unkind thing in spreading the report, and +you will find that you have though you will not believe me now." + +Mrs. Jennings laughed again, but Elinor had not spirits to say more, +and eager at all events to know what Willoughby had written, hurried +away to their room, where, on opening the door, she saw Marianne +stretched on the bed, almost choked by grief, one letter in her hand, +and two or three others laying by her. Elinor drew near, but without +saying a word; and seating herself on the bed, took her hand, kissed +her affectionately several times, and then gave way to a burst of +tears, which at first was scarcely less violent than Marianne's. The +latter, though unable to speak, seemed to feel all the tenderness of +this behaviour, and after some time thus spent in joint affliction, +she put all the letters into Elinor's hands; and then covering her +face with her handkerchief, almost screamed with agony. Elinor, who +knew that such grief, shocking as it was to witness it, must have its +course, watched by her till this excess of suffering had somewhat +spent itself, and then turning eagerly to Willoughby's letter, read as +follows:-- + +"Bond Street, January. + +"MY DEAR MADAM, + + "I have just had the honour of receiving your letter, for + which I beg to return my sincere acknowledgments. I am much + concerned to find there was anything in my behaviour last + night that did not meet your approbation; and though I am + quite at a loss to discover in what point I could be so + unfortunate as to offend you, I entreat your forgiveness of + what I can assure you to have been perfectly unintentional. + I shall never reflect on my former acquaintance with your + family in Devonshire without the most grateful pleasure, and + flatter myself it will not be broken by any mistake or + misapprehension of my actions. My esteem for your whole + family is very sincere; but if I have been so unfortunate as + to give rise to a belief of more than I felt, or meant to + express, I shall reproach myself for not having been more + guarded in my professions of that esteem. That I should ever + have meant more you will allow to be impossible, when you + understand that my affections have been long engaged + elsewhere, and it will not be many weeks, I believe, before + this engagement is fulfilled. It is with great regret that I + obey your commands in returning the letters with which I + have been honoured from you, and the lock of hair, which you + so obligingly bestowed on me. + +I am, dear Madam, + +Your most obedient humble servant, + +"JOHN WILLOUGHBY." + +With what indignation such a letter as this must be read by Miss +Dashwood, may be imagined. Though aware, before she began it, that it +must bring a confession of his inconstancy, and confirm their +separation for ever, she was not aware that such language could be +suffered to announce it; nor could she have supposed Willoughby +capable of departing so far from the appearance of every honourable +and delicate feeling--so far from the common decorum of a gentleman, +as to send a letter so impudently cruel: a letter which, instead of +bringing with his desire of a release any professions of regret, +acknowledged no breach of faith, denied all peculiar affection +whatever;--a letter of which every line was an insult, and which +proclaimed its writer to be deep in hardened villainy. + +She paused over it for some time with indignant astonishment; then +read it again and again; but every perusal only served to increase +her abhorrence of the man, and so bitter were her feelings against +him, that she dared not trust herself to speak, lest she might wound +Marianne still deeper by treating their disengagement, not as a loss +to her of any possible good but as an escape from the worst and most +irremediable of all evils,--a connection, for life, with an +unprincipled man, as a deliverance the most real, a blessing the most +important. + +In her earnest meditations on the contents of the letter, on the +depravity of that mind which could dictate it, and probably, on the +very different mind of a very different person, who had no other +connection whatever with the affair than what her heart gave him with +every thing that passed, Elinor forgot the immediate distress of her +sister, forgot that she had three letters on her lap yet unread, and +so entirely forgot how long she had been in the room, that when on +hearing a carriage drive up to the door, she went to the window to see +who could be coming so unreasonably early, she was all astonishment to +perceive Mrs. Jennings's chariot, which she knew had not been ordered +till one. Determined not to quit Marianne, though hopeless of +contributing, at present, to her ease, she hurried away to excuse +herself from attending Mrs. Jennings, on account of her sister being +indisposed. Mrs. Jennings, with a thoroughly good-humoured concern for +its cause, admitted the excuse most readily, and Elinor, after seeing +her safe off, returned to Marianne, whom she found attempting to rise +from the bed, and whom she reached just in time to prevent her from +falling on the floor, faint and giddy from a long want of proper rest +and food; for it was many days since she had any appetite, and many +nights since she had really slept; and now, when her mind was no +longer supported by the fever of suspense, the consequence of all this +was felt in an aching head, a weakened stomach, and a general nervous +faintness. A glass of wine, which Elinor procured for her directly, +made her more comfortable, and she was at last able to express some +sense of her kindness, by saying, "Poor Elinor! how unhappy I make +you!" + +"I only wish," replied her sister, "there were any thing I _could_ do, +which might be of comfort to you." + +This, as every thing else would have been, was too much for Marianne, +who could only exclaim, in the anguish of her heart, "Oh! Elinor, I +am miserable, indeed," before her voice was entirely lost in sobs. + +Elinor could no longer witness this torrent of unresisted grief in +silence. + +"Exert yourself, dear Marianne," she cried, "if you would not kill +yourself and all who love you. Think of your mother; think of her +misery while _you_ suffer: for her sake you must exert yourself." + +"I cannot, I cannot," cried Marianne; "leave me, leave me, if I +distress you; leave me, hate me, forget me! but do not torture me so. +Oh! how easy for those, who have no sorrow of their own to talk of +exertion! Happy, happy Elinor, _you_ cannot have an idea of what I +suffer." + +"Do you call _me_ happy, Marianne? Ah! if you knew! And can you +believe me to be so, while I see you so wretched!" + +"Forgive me, forgive me," throwing her arms round her sister's neck; +"I know you feel for me; I know what a heart you have; but yet you +are--you must be happy; Edward loves you--what, oh what, can do away +such happiness as that?" + +"Many, many circumstances," said Elinor, solemnly. + +"No, no, no," cried Marianne wildly, "he loves you, and only you. You +_can_ have no grief." + +"I can have no pleasure while I see you in this state." + +"And you will never see me otherwise. Mine is a misery which nothing +can do away." + +"You must not talk so, Marianne. Have you no comforts? no friends? Is +your loss such as leaves no opening for consolation? Much as you +suffer now, think of what you would have suffered if the discovery of +his character had been delayed to a later period;--if your engagement +had been carried on for months and months, as it might have been, +before he chose to put an end to it. Every additional day of unhappy +confidence, on your side, would have made the blow more dreadful." + +"Engagement!" cried Marianne, "there has been no engagement." + +"No engagement!" + +"No, he is not so unworthy as you believe him. He has broken no faith +with me." + +"But he told you that he loved you." + +"Yes--no--never absolutely. It was every day implied, but never +professedly declared. Sometimes I thought it had been--but it never +was." + +"Yet you wrote to him?" + +"Yes: could that be wrong after all that had passed? But I cannot +talk." + +Elinor said no more, and turning again to the three letters which now +raised a much stronger curiosity than before, directly ran over the +contents of all. The first, which was what her sister had sent him on +their arrival in town, was to this effect:-- + +"Berkeley Street, January. + + "How surprised you will be, Willoughby, on receiving this; + and I think you will feel something more than surprise, when + you know that I am in town. An opportunity of coming hither, + though with Mrs. Jennings, was a temptation we could not + resist. I wish you may receive this in time to come here + tonight, but I will not depend on it. At any rate I shall + expect you to-morrow. For the present, adieu. + +M.D." + +Her second note, which had been written on the morning after the dance +at the Middletons', was in these words:-- + + "I cannot express my disappointment in having missed you the + day before yesterday, nor my astonishment at not having + received any answer to a note which I sent you above a week + ago. I have been expecting to hear from you, and still more + to see you, every hour of the day. Pray call again as soon + as possible, and explain the reason of my having expected + this in vain. You had better come earlier another time, + because we are generally out by one. We were last night at + Lady Middleton's, where there was a dance. I have been told + that you were asked to be of the party. But could it be so? + You must be very much altered indeed since we parted, if + that could be the case, and you not there. But I will not + suppose this possible, and I hope very soon to receive your + personal assurance of its being otherwise. + +M.D." + +The contents of her last note to him were these:-- + + "What am I to imagine, Willoughby, by your behaviour last + night? Again I demand an explanation of it. I was prepared + to meet you with the pleasure which our separation naturally + produced,--with the familiarity which our intimacy at Barton + appeared to me to justify. I was repulsed indeed! I have + passed a wretched night in endeavouring to excuse a conduct + which can scarcely be called less than insulting; but though + I have not yet been able to form any reasonable apology for + your behaviour, I am perfectly ready to hear your + justification of it. You have perhaps been misinformed, or + purposely deceived, in something concerning me, which may + have lowered me in your opinion. Tell me what it is, explain + the grounds on which you acted, and I shall be satisfied, in + being able to satisfy you. It would grieve me indeed to be + obliged to think ill of you; but if I am to do it, if I am + to learn that you are not what we have hitherto believed + you, that your regard for us all was insincere, that your + behaviour to me was intended only to deceive, let it be told + as soon as possible. My feelings are at present in a state + of dreadful indecision; I wish to acquit you, but certainty + on either side will be ease to what I now suffer. If your + sentiments are no longer what they were, you will return my + notes, and the lock of my hair which is in your possession. + +M.D." + +That such letters, so full of affection and confidence, could have +been so answered, Elinor, for Willoughby's sake, would have been +unwilling to believe. But her condemnation of him did not blind her to +the impropriety of their having been written at all; and she was +silently grieving over the imprudence which had hazarded such +unsolicited proofs of tenderness, not warranted by anything preceding, +and most severely condemned by the event, when Marianne, perceiving +that she had finished the letters, observed to her that they contained +nothing but what any one would have written in the same situation. + +"I felt myself," she added, "to be as solemnly engaged to him, as if +the strictest legal covenant had bound us to each other." + +"I can believe it," said Elinor; "but unfortunately he did not feel +the same." + +"He _did_ feel the same, Elinor--for weeks and weeks he felt it. I +know he did. Whatever may have changed him now, (and nothing but the +blackest art employed against me can have done it), I was once as dear +to him as my own soul could wish. This lock of hair, which now he can +so readily give up, was begged of me with the most earnest +supplication. Had you seen his look, his manner, had you heard his +voice at that moment! Have you forgot the last evening of our being +together at Barton? The morning that we parted too! When he told me +that it might be many weeks before we met again--his distress--can I +ever forget his distress?" + +For a moment or two she could say no more; but when this emotion had +passed away, she added, in a firmer tone-- + +"Elinor, I have been cruelly used; but not by Willoughby." + +"Dearest Marianne, who but himself? By whom can he have been +instigated?" + +"By all the world, rather than by his own heart. I could rather +believe every creature of my acquaintance leagued together to ruin me +in his opinion, than believe his nature capable of such cruelty. This +woman of whom he writes--whoever she be--or any one, in short, but +your own dear self, mama, and Edward, may have been so barbarous to +bely me. Beyond you three, is there a creature in the world whom I +would not rather suspect of evil than Willoughby, whose heart I know +so well?" + +Elinor would not contend, and only replied, "Whoever may have been so +detestably your enemy, let them be cheated of their malignant triumph, +my dear sister, by seeing how nobly the consciousness of your own +innocence and good intentions supports your spirits. It is a +reasonable and laudable pride which resists such malevolence." + +"No, no," cried Marianne, "misery such as mine has no pride. I care +not who knows that I am wretched. The triumph of seeing me so may be +open to all the world. Elinor, Elinor, they who suffer little may be +proud and independent as they like--may resist insult, or return +mortification--but I cannot. I must feel--I must be wretched--and they +are welcome to enjoy the consciousness of it that can." + +"But for my mother's sake and mine--" + +"I would do more than for my own. But to appear happy when I am so +miserable--oh! who can require it?" + +Again they were both silent. Elinor was employed in walking +thoughtfully from the fire to the window, from the window to the fire, +without knowing that she received warmth from one, or discerning +objects through the other; and Marianne, seated at the foot of the +bed, with her head leaning against one of its posts, again took up +Willoughby's letter, and, after shuddering over every sentence, +exclaimed-- + +"It is too much! Oh, Willoughby, Willoughby, could this be yours! +Cruel, cruel--nothing can acquit you. Elinor, nothing can. Whatever he +might have heard against me, ought he not to have suspended his +belief? ought he not to have told me of it, to have given me the power +of clearing myself? 'The lock of hair, (repeating it from the letter,) +which you so obligingly bestowed on me'--that is unpardonable. +Willoughby, where was your heart when you wrote those words? Oh, +barbarously insolent!--Elinor, can he be justified?" + +"No, Marianne, in no possible way." + +"And yet this woman--who knows what her art may have been?--how long +it may have been premeditated, and how deeply contrived by her!--Who +is she?--Who can she be?--Whom did I ever hear him talk of as young +and attractive among his female acquaintance?--Oh! no one, no one:--he +talked to me only of myself." + +Another pause ensued; Marianne was greatly agitated, and it ended +thus:-- + +"Elinor, I must go home. I must go and comfort mama. Can not we be +gone to-morrow?" + +"To-morrow, Marianne!" + +"Yes, why should I stay here? I came only for Willoughby's sake--and +now who cares for me? Who regards me?" + +"It would be impossible to go to-morrow. We owe Mrs. Jennings much +more than civility; and civility of the commonest kind must prevent +such a hasty removal as that." + +"Well then, another day or two, perhaps; but I cannot stay here long, +I cannot stay to endure the questions and remarks of all these people. +The Middletons and Palmers--how am I to bear their pity? The pity of +such a woman as Lady Middleton! Oh, what would _he_ say to that!" + +Elinor advised her to lie down again, and for a moment she did so; but +no attitude could give her ease; and in restless pain of mind and body +she moved from one posture to another, till growing more and more +hysterical, her sister could with difficulty keep her on the bed at +all, and for some time was fearful of being constrained to call for +assistance. Some lavender drops, however, which she was at length +persuaded to take, were of use; and from that time till Mrs. Jennings +returned, she continued on the bed quiet and motionless. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +Mrs. Jennings came immediately to their room on her return, and +without waiting to have her request of admittance answered, opened the +door and walked in with a look of real concern. + +"How do you do my dear?" said she in a voice of great compassion to +Marianne, who turned away her face without attempting to answer. + +"How is she, Miss Dashwood? Poor thing! she looks very bad. No +wonder. Ay, it is but too true. He is to be married very soon--a +good-for-nothing fellow! I have no patience with him. Mrs. Taylor told +me of it half an hour ago, and she was told it by a particular friend +of Miss Grey herself, else I am sure I should not have believed it; +and I was almost ready to sink as it was. Well, said I, all I can say +is, that if this be true, he has used a young lady of my acquaintance +abominably ill, and I wish with all my soul his wife may plague his +heart out. And so I shall always say, my dear, you may depend on it. I +have no notion of men's going on in this way; and if ever I meet him +again, I will give him such a dressing as he has not had this many a +day. But there is one comfort, my dear Miss Marianne--he is not the +only young man in the world worth having; and with your pretty face +you will never want admirers. Well, poor thing! I won't disturb her +any longer, for she had better have her cry out at once and have done +with. The Parrys and Sandersons luckily are coming tonight you know, +and that will amuse her." + +She then went away, walking on tiptoe out of the room, as if she +supposed her young friend's affliction could be increased by noise. + +Marianne, to the surprise of her sister, determined on dining with +them. Elinor even advised her against it. But "no, she would go down; +she could bear it very well, and the bustle about her would be less." +Elinor, pleased to have her governed for a moment by such a motive, +though believing it hardly possible that she could sit out the dinner, +said no more; and adjusting her dress for her as well as she could, +while Marianne still remained on the bed, was ready to assist her into +the dining room as soon as they were summoned to it. + +When there, though looking most wretchedly, she ate more and was +calmer than her sister had expected. Had she tried to speak, or had +she been conscious of half Mrs. Jennings's well-meant but ill-judged +attentions to her, this calmness could not have been maintained; but +not a syllable escaped her lips; and the abstraction of her thoughts +preserved her in ignorance of every thing that was passing before her. + +Elinor, who did justice to Mrs. Jennings's kindness, though its +effusions were often distressing, and sometimes almost ridiculous, +made her those acknowledgments, and returned her those civilities, +which her sister could not make or return for herself. Their good +friend saw that Marianne was unhappy, and felt that every thing was +due to her which might make her at all less so. She treated her +therefore, with all the indulgent fondness of a parent towards a +favourite child on the last day of its holidays. Marianne was to have +the best place by the fire, was to be tempted to eat by every delicacy +in the house, and to be amused by the relation of all the news of the +day. Had not Elinor, in the sad countenance of her sister, seen a +check to all mirth, she could have been entertained by Mrs. Jennings's +endeavours to cure a disappointment in love, by a variety of +sweetmeats and olives, and a good fire. As soon, however, as the +consciousness of all this was forced by continual repetition on +Marianne, she could stay no longer. With a hasty exclamation of +Misery, and a sign to her sister not to follow her, she directly got +up and hurried out of the room. + +"Poor soul!" cried Mrs. Jennings, as soon as she was gone, "how it +grieves me to see her! And I declare if she is not gone away without +finishing her wine! And the dried cherries too! Lord! nothing seems to +do her any good. I am sure if I knew of any thing she would like, I +would send all over the town for it. Well, it is the oddest thing to +me, that a man should use such a pretty girl so ill! But when there +is plenty of money on one side, and next to none on the other, Lord +bless you! they care no more about such things!" + +"The lady then,--Miss Grey I think you called her,--is very rich?" + +"Fifty thousand pounds, my dear. Did you ever see her? a smart, +stylish girl they say, but not handsome. I remember her aunt very +well, Biddy Henshawe; she married a very wealthy man. But the family +are all rich together. Fifty thousand pounds! and by all accounts, it +won't come before it's wanted; for they say he is all to pieces. No +wonder! dashing about with his curricle and hunters! Well, it don't +signify talking; but when a young man, be who he will, comes and makes +love to a pretty girl, and promises marriage, he has no business to +fly off from his word only because he grows poor, and a richer girl is +ready to have him. Why don't he, in such a case, sell his horses, let +his house, turn off his servants, and make a thorough reform at once? +I warrant you, Miss Marianne would have been ready to wait till +matters came round. But that won't do nowadays; nothing in the way +of pleasure can ever be given up by the young men of this age." + +"Do you know what kind of a girl Miss Grey is? Is she said to be +amiable?" + +"I never heard any harm of her; indeed I hardly ever heard her +mentioned; except that Mrs. Taylor did say this morning, that one day +Miss Walker hinted to her, that she believed Mr. and Mrs. Ellison +would not be sorry to have Miss Grey married, for she and Mrs. Ellison +could never agree." + +"And who are the Ellisons?" + +"Her guardians, my dear. But now she is of age and may choose for +herself; and a pretty choice she has made!--What now," after pausing a +moment, "your poor sister is gone to her own room, I suppose, to moan +by herself. Is there nothing one can get to comfort her? Poor dear, it +seems quite cruel to let her be alone. Well, by and by we shall have a +few friends, and that will amuse her a little. What shall we play at? +She hates whist I know; but is there no round game she cares for?" + +"Dear ma'am, this kindness is quite unnecessary. Marianne, I dare say, +will not leave her room again this evening. I shall persuade her if I +can to go early to bed, for I am sure she wants rest." + +"Aye, I believe that will be best for her. Let her name her own +supper, and go to bed. Lord! no wonder she has been looking so bad and +so cast down this last week or two, for this matter I suppose has been +hanging over her head as long as that. And so the letter that came +today finished it! Poor soul! I am sure if I had had a notion of it, I +would not have joked her about it for all my money. But then you know, +how should I guess such a thing? I made sure of its being nothing but +a common love letter, and you know young people like to be laughed at +about them. Lord! how concerned Sir John and my daughters will be when +they hear it! If I had my senses about me I might have called in +Conduit Street in my way home, and told them of it. But I shall see +them to-morrow." + +"It would be unnecessary I am sure, for you to caution Mrs. Palmer and +Sir John against ever naming Mr. Willoughby, or making the slightest +allusion to what has passed, before my sister. Their own good-nature +must point out to them the real cruelty of appearing to know any thing +about it when she is present; and the less that may ever be said to +myself on the subject, the more my feelings will be spared, as you my +dear madam will easily believe." + +"Oh! Lord! yes, that I do indeed. It must be terrible for you to hear +it talked of; and as for your sister, I am sure I would not mention a +word about it to her for the world. You saw I did not all dinner time. +No more would Sir John, nor my daughters, for they are all very +thoughtful and considerate; especially if I give them a hint, as I +certainly will. For my part, I think the less that is said about such +things, the better, the sooner 'tis blown over and forgot. And what +does talking ever do you know?" + +"In this affair it can only do harm; more so perhaps than in many +cases of a similar kind, for it has been attended by circumstances +which, for the sake of every one concerned in it, make it unfit to +become the public conversation. I must do _this_ justice to Mr. +Willoughby--he has broken no positive engagement with my sister." + +"Law, my dear! Don't pretend to defend him. No positive engagement +indeed! after taking her all over Allenham House, and fixing on the +very rooms they were to live in hereafter!" + +Elinor, for her sister's sake, could not press the subject farther, +and she hoped it was not required of her for Willoughby's; since, +though Marianne might lose much, he could gain very little by the +enforcement of the real truth. After a short silence on both sides, +Mrs. Jennings, with all her natural hilarity, burst forth again. + +"Well, my dear, 'tis a true saying about an ill wind, for it will be +all the better for Colonel Brandon. He will have her at last; aye, +that he will. Mind me, now, if they an't married by Mid-summer. Lord! +how he'll chuckle over this news! I hope he will come tonight. It will +be all to one a better match for your sister. Two thousand a year +without debt or drawback--except the little love-child, indeed; aye, I +had forgot her; but she may be 'prenticed out at a small cost, and +then what does it signify? Delaford is a nice place, I can tell you; +exactly what I call a nice old fashioned place, full of comforts and +conveniences; quite shut in with great garden walls that are covered +with the best fruit-trees in the country; and such a mulberry tree in +one corner! Lord! how Charlotte and I did stuff the only time we were +there! Then, there is a dovecote, some delightful stew-ponds, and a +very pretty canal; and every thing, in short, that one could wish for; +and, moreover, it is close to the church, and only a quarter of a mile +from the turnpike-road, so 'tis never dull, for if you only go and sit +up in an old yew arbour behind the house, you may see all the +carriages that pass along. Oh! 'tis a nice place! A butcher hard by in +the village, and the parsonage-house within a stone's throw. To my +fancy, a thousand times prettier than Barton Park, where they are +forced to send three miles for their meat, and have not a neighbour +nearer than your mother. Well, I shall spirit up the Colonel as soon +as I can. One shoulder of mutton, you know, drives another down. If we +_can_ but put Willoughby out of her head!" + +"Ay, if we can do that, Ma'am," said Elinor, "we shall do very well +with or without Colonel Brandon." And then rising, she went away to +join Marianne, whom she found, as she expected, in her own room, +leaning, in silent misery, over the small remains of a fire, which, +till Elinor's entrance, had been her only light. + +"You had better leave me," was all the notice that her sister received +from her. + +"I will leave you," said Elinor, "if you will go to bed." But this, +from the momentary perverseness of impatient suffering, she at first +refused to do. Her sister's earnest, though gentle persuasion, +however, soon softened her to compliance, and Elinor saw her lay her +aching head on the pillow, and as she hoped, in a way to get some +quiet rest before she left her. + +In the drawing-room, whither she then repaired, she was soon joined by +Mrs. Jennings, with a wine-glass, full of something, in her hand. + +"My dear," said she, entering, "I have just recollected that I have +some of the finest old Constantia wine in the house that ever was +tasted, so I have brought a glass of it for your sister. My poor +husband! how fond he was of it! Whenever he had a touch of his old +colicky gout, he said it did him more good than any thing else in the +world. Do take it to your sister." + +"Dear Ma'am," replied Elinor, smiling at the difference of the +complaints for which it was recommended, "how good you are! But I have +just left Marianne in bed, and, I hope, almost asleep; and as I think +nothing will be of so much service to her as rest, if you will give me +leave, I will drink the wine myself." + +Mrs. Jennings, though regretting that she had not been five minutes +earlier, was satisfied with the compromise; and Elinor, as she +swallowed the chief of it, reflected, that though its effects on a +colicky gout were, at present, of little importance to her, its +healing powers, on a disappointed heart might be as reasonably tried +on herself as on her sister. + +Colonel Brandon came in while the party were at tea, and by his manner +of looking round the room for Marianne, Elinor immediately fancied +that he neither expected nor wished to see her there, and, in short, +that he was already aware of what occasioned her absence. Mrs. +Jennings was not struck by the same thought; for soon after his +entrance, she walked across the room to the tea-table where Elinor +presided, and whispered, "The Colonel looks as grave as ever you see. +He knows nothing of it; do tell him, my dear." + +[Illustration: "_How fond he was of it!_"] + +He shortly afterwards drew a chair close to her's, and, with a look +which perfectly assured her of his good information, inquired after +her sister. + +"Marianne is not well," said she. "She has been indisposed all day, +and we have persuaded her to go to bed." + +"Perhaps, then," he hesitatingly replied, "what I heard this morning +may be--there may be more truth in it than I could believe possible at +first." + +"What did you hear?" + +"That a gentleman, whom I had reason to think--in short, that a man, +whom I _knew_ to be engaged--but how shall I tell you? If you know it +already, as surely you must, I may be spared." + +"You mean," answered Elinor, with forced calmness, "Mr. Willoughby's +marriage with Miss Grey. Yes, we _do_ know it all. This seems to have +been a day of general elucidation, for this very morning first +unfolded it to us. Mr. Willoughby is unfathomable! Where did you hear +it?" + +"In a stationer's shop in Pall Mall, where I had business. Two ladies +were waiting for their carriage, and one of them was giving the other +an account of the intended match, in a voice so little attempting +concealment, that it was impossible for me not to hear all. The name +of Willoughby, John Willoughby, frequently repeated, first caught my +attention; and what followed was a positive assertion that every thing +was now finally settled respecting his marriage with Miss Grey--it was +no longer to be a secret--it would take place even within a few weeks, +with many particulars of preparations and other matters. One thing, +especially, I remember, because it served to identify the man still +more:--as soon as the ceremony was over, they were to go to Combe +Magna, his seat in Somersetshire. My astonishment!--but it would be +impossible to describe what I felt. The communicative lady I learnt, +on inquiry,--for I stayed in the shop till they were gone,--was a Mrs. +Ellison, and that, as I have been since informed, is the name of Miss +Grey's guardian." + +"It is. But have you likewise heard that Miss Grey has fifty thousand +pounds? In that, if in any thing, we may find an explanation." + +"It may be so; but Willoughby is capable--at least I think--" He +stopped a moment; then added in a voice which seemed to distrust +itself, "And your sister,--how did she,--" + +"Her sufferings have been very severe. I have only to hope that they +may be proportionately short. It has been, it is a most cruel +affliction. Till yesterday, I believe, she never doubted his regard; +and even now, perhaps--but _I_ am almost convinced that he never was +really attached to her. He has been very deceitful! and, in some +points, there seems a hardness of heart about him." + +"Ah!" said Colonel Brandon, "there is, indeed! But your sister does +not--I think you said so--she does not consider quite as you do?" + +"You know her disposition, and may believe how eagerly she would still +justify him if she could." + +He made no answer; and soon afterwards, by the removal of the +tea-things, and the arrangement of the card parties, the subject was +necessarily dropped. Mrs. Jennings, who had watched them with pleasure +while they were talking, and who expected to see the effect of Miss +Dashwood's communication, in such an instantaneous gaiety on Colonel +Brandon's side, as might have become a man in the bloom of youth, of +hope and happiness, saw him, with amazement, remain the whole evening +more serious and thoughtful than usual. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +From a night of more sleep than she had expected, Marianne awoke the +next morning to the same consciousness of misery in which she had +closed her eyes. + +Elinor encouraged her as much as possible to talk of what she felt; +and before breakfast was ready, they had gone through the subject +again and again; and with the same steady conviction and affectionate +counsel on Elinor's side, the same impetuous feelings and varying +opinions on Marianne's, as before. Sometimes she could believe +Willoughby to be as unfortunate and as innocent as herself, and at +others, lost every consolation in the impossibility of acquitting him. +At one moment she was absolutely indifferent to the observation of all +the world, at another she would seclude herself from it for ever, and +at a third could resist it with energy. In one thing, however, she +was uniform, when it came to the point, in avoiding, where it was +possible, the presence of Mrs. Jennings, and in a determined silence +when obliged to endure it. Her heart was hardened against the belief +of Mrs. Jennings's entering into her sorrows with any compassion. + +"No, no, no, it cannot be," she cried; "she cannot feel. Her kindness +is not sympathy; her good-nature is not tenderness. All that she wants +is gossip, and she only likes me now because I supply it." + +Elinor had not needed this to be assured of the injustice to which her +sister was often led in her opinion of others, by the irritable +refinement of her own mind, and the too great importance placed by her +on the delicacies of a strong sensibility, and the graces of a +polished manner. Like half the rest of the world, if more than half +there be that are clever and good, Marianne, with excellent abilities +and an excellent disposition, was neither reasonable nor candid. She +expected from other people the same opinions and feelings as her own, +and she judged of their motives by the immediate effect of their +actions on herself. Thus a circumstance occurred, while the sisters +were together in their own room after breakfast, which sunk the heart +of Mrs. Jennings still lower in her estimation; because, through her +own weakness, it chanced to prove a source of fresh pain to herself, +though Mrs. Jennings was governed in it by an impulse of the utmost +good-will. + +With a letter in her outstretched hand, and countenance gaily smiling, +from the persuasion of bringing comfort, she entered their room, +saying-- + +"Now, my dear, I bring you something that I am sure will do you good." + +Marianne heard enough. In one moment her imagination placed before her +a letter from Willoughby, full of tenderness and contrition, +explanatory of all that had passed, satisfactory, convincing; and +instantly followed by Willoughby himself, rushing eagerly into the +room to enforce, at her feet, by the eloquence of his eyes, the +assurances of his letter. The work of one moment was destroyed by the +next. The hand writing of her mother, never till then unwelcome, was +before her; and, in the acuteness of the disappointment which followed +such an ecstasy of more than hope, she felt as if, till that instant, +she had never suffered. + +The cruelty of Mrs. Jennings, no language, within her reach in her +moments of happiest eloquence, could have expressed; and now she could +reproach her only by the tears which streamed from her eyes with +passionate violence;--a reproach, however, so entirely lost on its +object, that after many expressions of pity, she withdrew, still +referring her to the letter of comfort. But the letter, when she was +calm enough to read it, brought little comfort. Willoughby filled +every page. Her mother, still confident of their engagement, and +relying as warmly as ever on his constancy, had only been roused by +Elinor's application, to entreat from Marianne greater openness +towards them both; and this, with such tenderness towards her, such +affection for Willoughby, and such a conviction of their future +happiness in each other, that she wept with agony through the whole of +it. + +All her impatience to be at home again now returned; her mother was +dearer to her than ever; dearer through the very excess of her +mistaken confidence in Willoughby, and she was wildly urgent to be +gone. Elinor, unable herself to determine whether it were better for +Marianne to be in London or at Barton, offered no counsel of her own +except of patience till their mother's wishes could be known; and at +length she obtained her sister's consent to wait for that knowledge. + +Mrs. Jennings left them earlier than usual; for she could not be easy +till the Middletons and Palmers were able to grieve as much as +herself; and positively refusing Elinor's offered attendance, went out +alone for the rest of the morning. Elinor, with a very heavy heart, +aware of the pain she was going to communicate, and perceiving, by +Marianne's letter, how ill she had succeeded in laying any foundation +for it, then sat down to write her mother an account of what had +passed, and entreat her directions for the future; while Marianne, who +came into the drawing-room on Mrs. Jennings's going away, remained +fixed at the table where Elinor wrote, watching the advancement of her +pen, grieving over her for the hardship of such a task, and grieving +still more fondly over its effect on her mother. + +In this manner they had continued about a quarter of an hour, when +Marianne, whose nerves could not then bear any sudden noise, was +startled by a rap at the door. + +"Who can this be?" cried Elinor. "So early too! I thought we _had_ +been safe." + +Marianne moved to the window-- + +"It is Colonel Brandon!" said she, with vexation. "We are never safe +from _him._" + +"He will not come in, as Mrs. Jennings is from home." + +"I will not trust to _that_," retreating to her own room. "A man who +has nothing to do with his own time has no conscience in his intrusion +on that of others." + +The event proved her conjecture right, though it was founded on +injustice and error; for Colonel Brandon _did_ come in; and Elinor, +who was convinced that solicitude for Marianne brought him thither, +and who saw _that_ solicitude in his disturbed and melancholy look, +and in his anxious though brief inquiry after her, could not forgive +her sister for esteeming him so lightly. + +"I met Mrs. Jennings in Bond Street," said he, after the first +salutation, "and she encouraged me to come on; and I was the more +easily encouraged, because I thought it probable that I might find you +alone, which I was very desirous of doing. My object--my wish--my sole +wish in desiring it--I hope, I believe it is--is to be a means of +giving comfort;--no, I must not say comfort--not present comfort--but +conviction, lasting conviction to your sister's mind. My regard for +her, for yourself, for your mother--will you allow me to prove it, by +relating some circumstances which nothing but a _very_ sincere +regard--nothing but an earnest desire of being useful--I think I am +justified--though where so many hours have been spent in convincing +myself that I am right, is there not some reason to fear I may be +wrong?" He stopped. + +"I understand you," said Elinor. "You have something to tell me of Mr. +Willoughby, that will open his character farther. Your telling it will +be the greatest act of friendship that can be shown Marianne. _My_ +gratitude will be insured immediately by any information tending to +that end, and _hers_ must be gained by it in time. Pray, pray let me +hear it." + +"You shall; and, to be brief, when I quitted Barton last October,--but +this will give you no idea--I must go farther back. You will find me a +very awkward narrator, Miss Dashwood; I hardly know where to begin. A +short account of myself, I believe, will be necessary, and it _shall_ +be a short one. On such a subject," sighing heavily, "can I have +little temptation to be diffuse." + +He stopt a moment for recollection, and then, with another sigh, went +on. + +"You have probably entirely forgotten a conversation--(it is not to be +supposed that it could make any impression on you)--a conversation +between us one evening at Barton Park--it was the evening of a +dance--in which I alluded to a lady I had once known, as resembling, +in some measure, your sister Marianne." + +"Indeed," answered Elinor, "I have _not_ forgotten it." He looked +pleased by this remembrance, and added-- + +"If I am not deceived by the uncertainty, the partiality of tender +recollection, there is a very strong resemblance between them, as well +in mind as person. The same warmth of heart, the same eagerness of +fancy and spirits. This lady was one of my nearest relations, an +orphan from her infancy, and under the guardianship of my father. Our +ages were nearly the same, and from our earliest years we were +playfellows and friends. I cannot remember the time when I did not +love Eliza; and my affection for her, as we grew up, was such, as +perhaps, judging from my present forlorn and cheerless gravity, you +might think me incapable of having ever felt. Her's, for me, was, I +believe, fervent as the attachment of your sister to Mr. Willoughby +and it was, though from a different cause, no less unfortunate. At +seventeen she was lost to me for ever. She was married--married +against her inclination to my brother. Her fortune was large, and our +family estate much encumbered. And this, I fear, is all that can be +said for the conduct of one, who was at once her uncle and guardian. +My brother did not deserve her; he did not even love her. I had hoped +that her regard for me would support her under any difficulty, and for +some time it did; but at last the misery of her situation, for she +experienced great unkindness, overcame all her resolution, and though +she had promised me that nothing--but how blindly I relate! I have +never told you how this was brought on. We were within a few hours of +eloping together for Scotland. The treachery, or the folly, of my +cousin's maid betrayed us. I was banished to the house of a relation +far distant, and she was allowed no liberty, no society, no amusement, +till my father's point was gained. I had depended on her fortitude too +far, and the blow was a severe one, but had her marriage been happy, +so young as I then was, a few months must have reconciled me to it, +or at least I should not have now to lament it. This however was not +the case. My brother had no regard for her; his pleasures were not +what they ought to have been, and from the first he treated her +unkindly. The consequence of this, upon a mind so young, so lively, so +inexperienced as Mrs. Brandon's, was but too natural. She resigned +herself at first to all the misery of her situation; and happy had it +been if she had not lived to overcome those regrets which the +remembrance of me occasioned. But can we wonder that, with such a +husband to provoke inconstancy, and without a friend to advise or +restrain her (for my father lived only a few months after their +marriage, and I was with my regiment in the East Indies) she should +fall? Had I remained in England, perhaps--but I meant to promote the +happiness of both by removing from her for years, and for that purpose +had procured my exchange. The shock which her marriage had given me," +he continued, in a voice of great agitation, "was of trifling +weight--was nothing to what I felt when I heard, about two years +afterwards, of her divorce. It was _that_ which threw this +gloom,--even now the recollection of what I suffered--" + +He could say no more, and rising hastily walked for a few minutes +about the room. Elinor, affected by his relation, and still more by +his distress, could not speak. He saw her concern, and coming to her, +took her hand, pressed it, and kissed it with grateful respect. A few +minutes more of silent exertion enabled him to proceed with composure. + +"It was nearly three years after this unhappy period before I returned +to England. My first care, when I _did_ arrive, was of course to seek +for her; but the search was as fruitless as it was melancholy. I could +not trace her beyond her first seducer, and there was every reason to +fear that she had removed from him only to sink deeper in a life of +sin. Her legal allowance was not adequate to her fortune, nor +sufficient for her comfortable maintenance, and I learnt from my +brother that the power of receiving it had been made over some months +before to another person. He imagined, and calmly could he imagine it, +that her extravagance, and consequent distress, had obliged her to +dispose of it for some immediate relief. At last, however, and after I +had been six months in England, I _did_ find her. Regard for a former +servant of my own, who had since fallen into misfortune, carried me +to visit him in a spunging-house, where he was confined for debt; and +there, in the same house, under a similar confinement, was my +unfortunate sister. So altered--so faded--worn down by acute suffering +of every kind! hardly could I believe the melancholy and sickly figure +before me, to be the remains of the lovely, blooming, healthful girl, +on whom I had once doted. What I endured in so beholding her--but I +have no right to wound your feelings by attempting to describe it--I +have pained you too much already. That she was, to all appearance, in +the last stage of a consumption, was--yes, in such a situation it was +my greatest comfort. Life could do nothing for her, beyond giving time +for a better preparation for death; and that was given. I saw her +placed in comfortable lodgings, and under proper attendants; I visited +her every day during the rest of her short life: I was with her in her +last moments." + +Again he stopped to recover himself; and Elinor spoke her feelings in +an exclamation of tender concern, at the fate of his unfortunate +friend. + +"Your sister, I hope, cannot be offended," said he, "by the +resemblance I have fancied between her and my poor disgraced relation. +Their fates, their fortunes, cannot be the same; and had the natural +sweet disposition of the one been guarded by a firmer mind, or a +happier marriage, she might have been all that you will live to see +the other be. But to what does all this lead? I seem to have been +distressing you for nothing. Ah! Miss Dashwood--a subject such as +this--untouched for fourteen years--it is dangerous to handle it at +all! I _will_ be more collected--more concise. She left to my care her +only child, a little girl, the offspring of her first guilty +connection, who was then about three years old. She loved the child, +and had always kept it with her. It was a valued, a precious trust to +me; and gladly would I have discharged it in the strictest sense, by +watching over her education myself, had the nature of our situations +allowed it; but I had no family, no home; and my little Eliza was +therefore placed at school. I saw her there whenever I could, and +after the death of my brother, (which happened about five years ago, +and which left to me the possession of the family property,) she +visited me at Delaford. I called her a distant relation; but I am +well aware that I have in general been suspected of a much nearer +connection with her. It is now three years ago (she had just reached +her fourteenth year,) that I removed her from school, to place her +under the care of a very respectable woman, residing in Dorsetshire, +who had the charge of four or five other girls of about the same time +of life; and for two years I had every reason to be pleased with her +situation. But last February, almost a twelvemonth back, she suddenly +disappeared. I had allowed her, (imprudently, as it has since turned +out,) at her earnest desire, to go to Bath with one of her young +friends, who was attending her father there for his health. I knew him +to be a very good sort of man, and I thought well of his +daughter--better than she deserved, for, with a most obstinate and +ill-judged secrecy, she would tell nothing, would give no clue, though +she certainly knew all. He, her father, a well-meaning, but not a +quick-sighted man, could really, I believe, give no information; for +he had been generally confined to the house, while the girls were +ranging over the town and making what acquaintance they chose; and he +tried to convince me, as thoroughly as he was convinced himself, of +his daughter's being entirely unconcerned in the business. In short, I +could learn nothing but that she was gone; all the rest, for eight +long months, was left to conjecture. What I thought, what I feared, +may be imagined; and what I suffered too." + +"Good heavens!" cried Elinor, "could it be--could Willoughby!"-- + +"The first news that reached me of her," he continued, "came in a +letter from herself, last October. It was forwarded to me from +Delaford, and I received it on the very morning of our intended party +to Whitwell; and this was the reason of my leaving Barton so suddenly, +which I am sure must at the time have appeared strange to every body, +and which I believe gave offence to some. Little did Mr. Willoughby +imagine, I suppose, when his looks censured me for incivility in +breaking up the party, that I was called away to the relief of one +whom he had made poor and miserable; but _had_ he known it, what would +it have availed? Would he have been less gay or less happy in the +smiles of your sister? No, he had already done that, which no man who +_can_ feel for another would do. He had left the girl whose youth and +innocence he had seduced, in a situation of the utmost distress, with +no creditable home, no help, no friends, ignorant of his address! He +had left her, promising to return; he neither returned, nor wrote, nor +relieved her." + +"This is beyond every thing!" exclaimed Elinor. + +"His character is now before you; expensive, dissipated, and worse +than both. Knowing all this, as I have now known it many weeks, guess +what I must have felt on seeing your sister as fond of him as ever, +and on being assured that she was to marry him: guess what I must have +felt for all your sakes. When I came to you last week and found you +alone, I came determined to know the truth; though irresolute what to +do when it _was_ known. My behaviour must have seemed strange to you +then; but now you will comprehend it. To suffer you all to be so +deceived; to see your sister--but what could I do? I had no hope of +interfering with success; and sometimes I thought your sister's +influence might yet reclaim him. But now, after such dishonorable +usage, who can tell what were his designs on her. Whatever they may +have been, however, she may now, and hereafter doubtless _will_, turn +with gratitude towards her own condition, when she compares it with +that of my poor Eliza, when she considers the wretched and hopeless +situation of this poor girl, and pictures her to herself, with an +affection for him so strong, still as strong as her own, and with a +mind tormented by self-reproach, which must attend her through life. +Surely this comparison must have its use with her. She will feel her +own sufferings to be nothing. They proceed from no misconduct, and can +bring no disgrace. On the contrary, every friend must be made still +more her friend by them. Concern for her unhappiness, and respect for +her fortitude under it, must strengthen every attachment. Use your own +discretion, however, in communicating to her what I have told you. You +must know best what will be its effect; but had I not seriously, and +from my heart believed it might be of service, might lessen her +regrets, I would not have suffered myself to trouble you with this +account of my family afflictions, with a recital which may seem to +have been intended to raise myself at the expense of others." + +Elinor's thanks followed this speech with grateful earnestness; +attended too with the assurance of her expecting material advantage +to Marianne, from the communication of what had passed. + +"I have been more pained," said she, "by her endeavors to acquit him +than by all the rest; for it irritates her mind more than the most +perfect conviction of his unworthiness can do. Now, though at first +she will suffer much, I am sure she will soon become easier. Have +you," she continued, after a short silence, "ever seen Mr. Willoughby +since you left him at Barton?" + +"Yes," he replied gravely, "once I have. One meeting was unavoidable." + +Elinor, startled by his manner, looked at him anxiously, saying-- + +"What? have you met him to--" + +"I could meet him no other way. Eliza had confessed to me, though most +reluctantly, the name of her lover; and when he returned to town, +which was within a fortnight after myself, we met by appointment, he +to defend, I to punish his conduct. We returned unwounded, and the +meeting, therefore, never got abroad." + +Elinor sighed over the fancied necessity of this; but to a man and a +soldier she presumed not to censure it. + +"Such," said Colonel Brandon, after a pause, "has been the unhappy +resemblance between the fate of mother and daughter! and so +imperfectly have I discharged my trust!" + +"Is she still in town?" + +"No; as soon as she recovered from her lying-in, for I found her near +her delivery, I removed her and her child into the country, and there +she remains." + +Recollecting, soon afterwards, that he was probably dividing Elinor +from her sister, he put an end to his visit, receiving from her again +the same grateful acknowledgments, and leaving her full of compassion +and esteem for him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +When the particulars of this conversation were repeated by Miss +Dashwood to her sister, as they very soon were, the effect on her was +not entirely such as the former had hoped to see. Not that Marianne +appeared to distrust the truth of any part of it, for she listened to +it all with the most steady and submissive attention, made neither +objection nor remark, attempted no vindication of Willoughby, and +seemed to show by her tears that she felt it to be impossible. But +though this behaviour assured Elinor that the conviction of this guilt +_was_ carried home to her mind, though she saw with satisfaction the +effect of it, in her no longer avoiding Colonel Brandon when he +called, in her speaking to him, even voluntarily speaking, with a kind +of compassionate respect, and though she saw her spirits less +violently irritated than before, she did not see her less wretched. +Her mind did become settled, but it was settled in a gloomy dejection. +She felt the loss of Willoughby's character yet more heavily than she +had felt the loss of his heart; his seduction and desertion of Miss +Williams, the misery of that poor girl, and the doubt of what his +designs might _once_ have been on herself, preyed altogether so much +on her spirits, that she could not bring herself to speak of what she +felt even to Elinor; and, brooding over her sorrows in silence, gave +more pain to her sister than could have been communicated by the most +open and most frequent confession of them. + +To give the feelings or the language of Mrs. Dashwood on receiving and +answering Elinor's letter would be only to give a repetition of what +her daughters had already felt and said; of a disappointment hardly +less painful than Marianne's, and an indignation even greater than +Elinor's. Long letters from her, quickly succeeding each other, +arrived to tell all that she suffered and thought; to express her +anxious solicitude for Marianne, and entreat she would bear up with +fortitude under this misfortune. Bad indeed must the nature of +Marianne's affliction be, when her mother could talk of fortitude! +mortifying and humiliating must be the origin of those regrets, which +_she_ could wish her not to indulge! + +Against the interest of her own individual comfort, Mrs. Dashwood had +determined that it would be better for Marianne to be any where, at +that time, than at Barton, where every thing within her view would be +bringing back the past in the strongest and most afflicting manner, by +constantly placing Willoughby before her, such as she had always seen +him there. She recommended it to her daughters, therefore, by all +means not to shorten their visit to Mrs. Jennings; the length of +which, though never exactly fixed, had been expected by all to +comprise at least five or six weeks. A variety of occupations, of +objects, and of company, which could not be procured at Barton, would +be inevitable there, and might yet, she hoped, cheat Marianne, at +times, into some interest beyond herself, and even into some +amusement, much as the ideas of both might now be spurned by her. + +From all danger of seeing Willoughby again, her mother considered her +to be at least equally safe in town as in the country, since his +acquaintance must now be dropped by all who called themselves her +friends. Design could never bring them in each other's way: negligence +could never leave them exposed to a surprise; and chance had less in +its favour in the crowd of London than even in the retirement of +Barton, where it might force him before her while paying that visit at +Allenham on his marriage, which Mrs. Dashwood, from foreseeing at +first as a probable event, had brought herself to expect as a certain +one. + +She had yet another reason for wishing her children to remain where +they were; a letter from her son-in-law had told her that he and his +wife were to be in town before the middle of February, and she judged +it right that they should sometimes see their brother. + +Marianne had promised to be guided by her mother's opinion, and she +submitted to it therefore without opposition, though it proved +perfectly different from what she wished and expected, though she felt +it to be entirely wrong, formed on mistaken grounds, and that by +requiring her longer continuance in London it deprived her of the only +possible alleviation of her wretchedness, the personal sympathy of her +mother, and doomed her to such society and such scenes as must prevent +her ever knowing a moment's rest. + +But it was a matter of great consolation to her, that what brought +evil to herself would bring good to her sister; and Elinor, on the +other hand, suspecting that it would not be in her power to avoid +Edward entirely, comforted herself by thinking, that though their +longer stay would therefore militate against her own happiness, it +would be better for Marianne than an immediate return into Devonshire. + +Her carefulness in guarding her sister from ever hearing Willoughby's +name mentioned, was not thrown away. Marianne, though without knowing +it herself, reaped all its advantage; for neither Mrs. Jennings, nor +Sir John, nor even Mrs. Palmer herself, ever spoke of him before her. +Elinor wished that the same forbearance could have extended towards +herself, but that was impossible, and she was obliged to listen day +after day to the indignation of them all. + +Sir John, could not have thought it possible. "A man of whom he had +always had such reason to think well! Such a good-natured fellow! He +did not believe there was a bolder rider in England! It was an +unaccountable business. He wished him at the devil with all his heart. +He would not speak another word to him, meet him where he might, for +all the world! No, not if it were to be by the side of Barton covert, +and they were kept watching for two hours together. Such a scoundrel +of a fellow! such a deceitful dog! It was only the last time they met +that he had offered him one of Folly's puppies! and this was the end +of it!" + +Mrs. Palmer, in her way, was equally angry. "She was determined to +drop his acquaintance immediately, and she was very thankful that she +had never been acquainted with him at all. She wished with all her +heart Combe Magna was not so near Cleveland; but it did not signify, +for it was a great deal too far off to visit; she hated him so much +that she was resolved never to mention his name again, and she should +tell everybody she saw, how good-for-nothing he was." + +The rest of Mrs. Palmer's sympathy was shown in procuring all the +particulars in her power of the approaching marriage, and +communicating them to Elinor. She could soon tell at what coachmaker's +the new carriage was building, by what painter Mr. Willoughby's +portrait was drawn, and at what warehouse Miss Grey's clothes might be +seen. + +[Illustration: _Offered him one of Folly's puppies._] + +The calm and polite unconcern of Lady Middleton on the occasion was a +happy relief to Elinor's spirits, oppressed as they often were by +the clamorous kindness of the others. It was a great comfort to her to +be sure of exciting no interest in _one_ person at least among their +circle of friends: a great comfort to know that there was _one_ who +would meet her without feeling any curiosity after particulars, or any +anxiety for her sister's health. + +Every qualification is raised at times, by the circumstances of the +moment, to more than its real value; and she was sometimes worried +down by officious condolence to rate good-breeding as more +indispensable to comfort than good-nature. + +Lady Middleton expressed her sense of the affair about once every day, +or twice, if the subject occurred very often, by saying, "It is very +shocking, indeed!" and by the means of this continual though gentle +vent, was able not only to see the Miss Dashwoods from the first +without the smallest emotion, but very soon to see them without +recollecting a word of the matter; and having thus supported the +dignity of her own sex, and spoken her decided censure of what was +wrong in the other, she thought herself at liberty to attend to the +interest of her own assemblies, and therefore determined (though +rather against the opinion of Sir John) that as Mrs. Willoughby would +at once be a woman of elegance and fortune, to leave her card with her +as soon as she married. + +Colonel Brandon's delicate, unobtrusive enquiries were never unwelcome +to Miss Dashwood. He had abundantly earned the privilege of intimate +discussion of her sister's disappointment, by the friendly zeal with +which he had endeavoured to soften it, and they always conversed with +confidence. His chief reward for the painful exertion of disclosing +past sorrows and present humiliations, was given in the pitying eye +with which Marianne sometimes observed him, and the gentleness of her +voice whenever (though it did not often happen) she was obliged, or +could oblige herself to speak to him. _These_ assured him that his +exertion had produced an increase of good-will towards himself, and +_these_ gave Elinor hopes of its being farther augmented hereafter; +but Mrs. Jennings, who knew nothing of all this, who knew only that +the Colonel continued as grave as ever, and that she could neither +prevail on him to make the offer himself, nor commission her to make +it for him, began, at the end of two days, to think that, instead of +Mid-summer, they would not be married till Michaelmas, and by the end +of a week that it would not be a match at all. The good understanding +between the Colonel and Miss Dashwood seemed rather to declare that +the honours of the mulberry-tree, the canal, and the yew arbour, would +all be made over to _her_; and Mrs. Jennings had, for some time ceased +to think at all of Mrs. Ferrars. + +Early in February, within a fortnight from the receipt of Willoughby's +letter, Elinor had the painful office of informing her sister that he +was married. She had taken care to have the intelligence conveyed to +herself, as soon as it was known that the ceremony was over, as she +was desirous that Marianne should not receive the first notice of it +from the public papers, which she saw her eagerly examining every +morning. + +She received the news with resolute composure; made no observation on +it, and at first shed no tears; but after a short time they would +burst out, and for the rest of the day, she was in a state hardly less +pitiable than when she first learnt to expect the event. + +The Willoughbys left town as soon as they were married; and Elinor now +hoped, as there could be no danger of her seeing either of them, to +prevail on her sister, who had never yet left the house since the blow +first fell, to go out again by degrees as she had done before. + +About this time the two Miss Steeles, lately arrived at their cousin's +house in Bartlett's Buildings, Holborn, presented themselves again +before their more grand relations in Conduit and Berkeley Streets; and +were welcomed by them all with great cordiality. + +Elinor only was sorry to see them. Their presence always gave her +pain, and she hardly knew how to make a very gracious return to the +overpowering delight of Lucy in finding her _still_ in town. + +"I should have been quite disappointed if I had not found you here +_still_," said she repeatedly, with a strong emphasis on the word. +"But I always thought I _should_ I was almost sure you would not leave +London yet awhile; though you _told_ me, you know, at Barton, that you +should not stay above a _month._ But I thought, at the time, that you +would most likely change your mind when it came to the point. It would +have been such a great pity to have went away before your brother and +sister came. And now to be sure you will be in no _hurry_ to be gone. +I am amazingly glad you did not keep to _your word._" + +Elinor perfectly understood her, and was forced to use all her +self-command to make it appear that she did _not._ + +"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Jennings, "and how did you travel?" + +"Not in the stage, I assure you," replied Miss Steele, with quick +exultation; "we came post all the way, and had a very smart beau to +attend us. Dr. Davies was coming to town, and so we thought we'd join +him in a post-chaise; and he behaved very genteelly, and paid ten or +twelve shillings more than we did." + +"Oh, oh!" cried Mrs. Jennings; "very pretty, indeed! and the Doctor is +a single man, I warrant you." + +"There now," said Miss Steele, affectedly simpering, "everybody laughs +at me so about the Doctor, and I cannot think why. My cousins say they +are sure I have made a conquest; but for my part I declare I never +think about him from one hour's end to another. 'Lord! here comes your +beau, Nancy,' my cousin said t'other day, when she saw him crossing +the street to the house. My beau, indeed! said I--I cannot think who +you mean. The Doctor is no beau of mine." + +"Aye, aye, that is very pretty talking--but it won't do--the Doctor is +the man, I see." + +"No, indeed!" replied her cousin, with affected earnestness, "and I +beg you will contradict it, if you ever hear it talked of." + +Mrs. Jennings directly gave her the gratifying assurance that she +certainly would _not_, and Miss Steele was made completely happy. + +"I suppose you will go and stay with your brother and sister, Miss +Dashwood, when they come to town," said Lucy, returning, after a +cessation of hostile hints, to the charge. + +"No, I do not think we shall." + +"Oh, yes, I dare say you will." + +Elinor would not humour her by farther opposition. + +"What a charming thing it is that Mrs. Dashwood can spare you both for +so long a time together!" + +"Long a time, indeed!" interposed Mrs. Jennings. "Why, their visit is +but just begun!" + +[Illustration: _A very smart beau._] + +Lucy was silenced. + +"I am sorry we cannot see your sister, Miss Dashwood," said Miss +Steele. "I am sorry she is not well--" for Marianne had left the room +on their arrival. + +"You are very good. My sister will be equally sorry to miss the +pleasure of seeing you; but she has been very much plagued lately with +nervous head-aches, which make her unfit for company or conversation." + +"Oh, dear, that is a great pity! but such old friends as Lucy and +me!--I think she might see _us_; and I am sure we would not speak a +word." + +Elinor, with great civility, declined the proposal. Her sister was +perhaps laid down upon the bed, or in her dressing gown, and therefore +not able to come to them. + +"Oh, if that's all," cried Miss Steele, "we can just as well go and +see _her._" + +Elinor began to find this impertinence too much for her temper; but +she was saved the trouble of checking it, by Lucy's sharp reprimand, +which now, as on many occasions, though it did not give much sweetness +to the manners of one sister, was of advantage in governing those of +the other. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +After some opposition, Marianne yielded to her sister's entreaties, +and consented to go out with her and Mrs. Jennings one morning for +half an hour. She expressly conditioned, however, for paying no +visits, and would do no more than accompany them to Gray's in +Sackville Street, where Elinor was carrying on a negotiation for the +exchange of a few old-fashioned jewels of her mother. + +When they stopped at the door, Mrs. Jennings recollected that there +was a lady at the other end of the street on whom she ought to call; +and as she had no business at Gray's, it was resolved, that while her +young friends transacted their's, she should pay her visit and return +for them. + +On ascending the stairs, the Miss Dashwoods found so many people +before them in the room, that there was not a person at liberty to +tend to their orders; and they were obliged to wait. All that could be +done was, to sit down at that end of the counter which seemed to +promise the quickest succession; one gentleman only was standing +there, and it is probable that Elinor was not without hope of exciting +his politeness to a quicker despatch. But the correctness of his eye, +and the delicacy of his taste, proved to be beyond his politeness. He +was giving orders for a toothpick-case for himself, and till its size, +shape, and ornaments were determined, all of which, after examining +and debating for a quarter of an hour over every toothpick-case in the +shop, were finally arranged by his own inventive fancy, he had no +leisure to bestow any other attention on the two ladies, than what was +comprised in three or four very broad stares; a kind of notice which +served to imprint on Elinor the remembrance of a person and face, of +strong, natural, sterling insignificance, though adorned in the first +style of fashion. + +Marianne was spared from the troublesome feelings of contempt and +resentment, on this impertinent examination of their features, and on +the puppyism of his manner in deciding on all the different horrors of +the different toothpick-cases presented to his inspection, by +remaining unconscious of it all; for she was as well able to collect +her thoughts within herself, and be as ignorant of what was passing +around her, in Mr. Gray's shop, as in her own bedroom. + +At last the affair was decided. The ivory, the gold, and the pearls, +all received their appointment, and the gentleman having named the +last day on which his existence could be continued without the +possession of the toothpick-case, drew on his gloves with leisurely +care, and bestowing another glance on the Miss Dashwoods, but such a +one as seemed rather to demand than express admiration, walked off +with a happy air of real conceit and affected indifference. + +Elinor lost no time in bringing her business forward, was on the point +of concluding it, when another gentleman presented himself at her +side. She turned her eyes towards his face, and found him with some +surprise to be her brother. + +[Illustration: _Introduced to Mrs. Jennings._] + +Their affection and pleasure in meeting was just enough to make a very +creditable appearance in Mr. Gray's shop. John Dashwood was really far +from being sorry to see his sisters again; it rather gave them +satisfaction; and his inquiries after their mother were respectful and +attentive. + +Elinor found that he and Fanny had been in town two days. + +"I wished very much to call upon you yesterday," said he, "but it was +impossible, for we were obliged to take Harry to see the wild beasts +at Exeter Exchange; and we spent the rest of the day with Mrs. +Ferrars. Harry was vastly pleased. _This_ morning I had fully intended +to call on you, if I could possibly find a spare half hour, but one +has always so much to do on first coming to town. I am come here to +bespeak Fanny a seal. But tomorrow I think I shall certainly be able +to call in Berkeley Street, and be introduced to your friend Mrs. +Jennings. I understand she is a woman of very good fortune. And the +Middletons too, you must introduce me to _them_. As my mother-in-law's +relations, I shall be happy to show them every respect. They are +excellent neighbours to you in the country, I understand." + +"Excellent indeed. Their attention to our comfort, their friendliness +in every particular, is more than I can express." + +"I am extremely glad to hear it, upon my word; extremely glad indeed. +But so it ought to be; they are people of large fortune, they are +related to you, and every civility and accommodation that can serve to +make your situation pleasant might be reasonably expected. And so you +are most comfortably settled in your little cottage and want for +nothing! Edward brought us a most charming account of the place: the +most complete thing of its kind, he said, that ever was, and you all +seemed to enjoy it beyond any thing. It was a great satisfaction to us +to hear it, I assure you." + +Elinor did feel a little ashamed of her brother; and was not sorry to +be spared the necessity of answering him, by the arrival of Mrs. +Jennings's servant, who came to tell her that his mistress waited for +them at the door. + +Mr. Dashwood attended them down stairs, was introduced to Mrs. +Jennings at the door of her carriage, and repeating his hope of being +able to call on them the next day, took leave. + +[Illustration: _Mrs. Jennings assured him directly that she should not +stand upon ceremony._] + +His visit was duly paid. He came with a pretence at an apology from +their sister-in-law, for not coming too; "but she was so much engaged +with her mother, that really she had no leisure for going any where." +Mrs. Jennings, however, assured him directly, that she should not +stand upon ceremony, for they were all cousins, or something like +it, and she should certainly wait on Mrs. John Dashwood very soon, and +bring her sisters to see her. His manners to _them_, though calm, were +perfectly kind; to Mrs. Jennings, most attentively civil; and on +Colonel Brandon's coming in soon after himself, he eyed him with a +curiosity which seemed to say, that he only wanted to know him to be +rich, to be equally civil to _him._ + +After staying with them half an hour, he asked Elinor to walk with him +to Conduit Street, and introduce him to Sir John and Lady Middleton. +The weather was remarkably fine, and she readily consented. As soon as +they were out of the house, his enquiries began. + +"Who is Colonel Brandon? Is he a man of fortune?" + +"Yes; he has very good property in Dorsetshire." + +"I am glad of it. He seems a most gentlemanlike man; and I think, +Elinor, I may congratulate you on the prospect of a very respectable +establishment in life." + +"Me, brother! what do you mean?" + +"He likes you. I observed him narrowly, and am convinced of it. What +is the amount of his fortune?" + +"I believe about two thousand a year." + +"Two thousand a-year;" and then working himself up to a pitch of +enthusiastic generosity, he added, "Elinor, I wish with all my heart +it were _twice_ as much, for your sake." + +"Indeed I believe you," replied Elinor; "but I am very sure that +Colonel Brandon has not the smallest wish of marrying _me._ + +"You are mistaken, Elinor; you are very much mistaken. A very little +trouble on your side secures him. Perhaps just at present he may be +undecided; the smallness of your fortune may make him hang back; his +friends may all advise him against it. But some of those little +attentions and encouragements which ladies can so easily give will fix +him, in spite of himself. And there can be no reason why you should +not try for him. It is not to be supposed that any prior attachment on +your side--in short, you know as to an attachment of that kind, it is +quite out of the question, the objections are insurmountable--you have +too much sense not to see all that. Colonel Brandon must be the man; +and no civility shall be wanting on my part to make him pleased with +you and your family. It is a match that must give universal +satisfaction. In short, it is a kind of thing that," lowering his +voice to an important whisper, "will be exceedingly welcome to _all +parties._" Recollecting himself, however, he added, "That is, I mean +to say--your friends are all truly anxious to see you well settled; +Fanny particularly, for she has your interest very much at heart, I +assure you. And her mother too, Mrs. Ferrars, a very good-natured +woman, I am sure it would give her great pleasure; she said as much +the other day." + +Elinor would not vouchsafe any answer. + +"It would be something remarkable, now," he continued, "something +droll, if Fanny should have a brother and I a sister settling at the +same time. And yet it is not very unlikely." + +"Is Mr. Edward Ferrars," said Elinor, with resolution, "going to be +married?" + +"It is not actually settled, but there is such a thing in agitation. +He has a most excellent mother. Mrs. Ferrars, with the utmost +liberality, will come forward, and settle on him a thousand a year, if +the match takes place. The lady is the Hon. Miss Morton, only daughter +of the late Lord Morton, with thirty thousand pounds. A very desirable +connection on both sides, and I have not a doubt of its taking place +in time. A thousand a-year is a great deal for a mother to give away, +to make over for ever; but Mrs. Ferrars has a noble spirit. To give +you another instance of her liberality:--The other day, as soon as we +came to town, aware that money could not be very plenty with us just +now, she put bank-notes into Fanny's hands to the amount of two +hundred pounds. And extremely acceptable it is, for we must live at a +great expense while we are here." + +He paused for her assent and compassion; and she forced herself to +say-- + +"Your expenses both in town and country must certainly be +considerable; but your income is a large one." + +"Not so large, I dare say, as many people suppose. I do not mean to +complain, however; it is undoubtedly a comfortable one, and I hope +will in time be better. The enclosure of Norland Common, now carrying +on, is a most serious drain. And then I have made a little purchase +within this half year; East Kingham Farm, you must remember the place, +where old Gibson used to live. The land was so very desirable for me +in every respect, so immediately adjoining my own property, that I +felt it my duty to buy it. I could not have answered it to my +conscience to let it fall into any other hands. A man must pay for his +convenience; and it _has_ cost me a vast deal of money." + +"More than you think it really and intrinsically worth." + +"Why, I hope not that. I might have sold it again, the next day, for +more than I gave: but, with regard to the purchase-money, I might have +been very unfortunate indeed; for the stocks were at that time so low, +that if I had not happened to have the necessary sum in my banker's +hands, I must have sold out to very great loss." + +Elinor could only smile. + +"Other great and inevitable expenses too we have had on first coming +to Norland. Our respected father, as you well know, bequeathed all the +Stanhill effects that remained at Norland (and very valuable they +were) to your mother. Far be it from me to repine at his doing so; he +had an undoubted right to dispose of his own property as he chose, +but, in consequence of it, we have been obliged to make large +purchases of linen, china, &c. to supply the place of what was taken +away. You may guess, after all these expenses, how very far we must be +from being rich, and how acceptable Mrs. Ferrars's kindness is." + +"Certainly," said Elinor; "and assisted by her liberality, I hope you +may yet live to be in easy circumstances." + +"Another year or two may do much towards it," he gravely replied; "but +however there is still a great deal to be done. There is not a stone +laid of Fanny's green-house, and nothing but the plan of the +flower-garden marked out." + +"Where is the green-house to be?" + +"Upon the knoll behind the house. The old walnut trees are all come +down to make room for it. It will be a very fine object from many +parts of the park, and the flower-garden will slope down just before +it, and be exceedingly pretty. We have cleared away all the old thorns +that grew in patches over the brow." + +Elinor kept her concern and her censure to herself; and was very +thankful that Marianne was not present, to share the provocation. + +Having now said enough to make his poverty clear, and to do away the +necessity of buying a pair of ear-rings for each of his sisters, in +his next visit at Gray's his thoughts took a cheerfuller turn, and he +began to congratulate Elinor on having such a friend as Mrs. Jennings. + +"She seems a most valuable woman indeed--Her house, her style of +living, all bespeak an exceeding good income; and it is an +acquaintance that has not only been of great use to you hitherto, but +in the end may prove materially advantageous. Her inviting you to town +is certainly a vast thing in your favour; and indeed, it speaks +altogether so great a regard for you, that in all probability when she +dies you will not be forgotten. She must have a great deal to leave." + +"Nothing at all, I should rather suppose; for she has only her +jointure, which will descend to her children." + +"But it is not to be imagined that she lives up to her income. Few +people of common prudence will do _that_; and whatever she saves, she +will be able to dispose of." + +"And do you not think it more likely that she should leave it to her +daughters, than to us?" + +"Her daughters are both exceedingly well married, and therefore I +cannot perceive the necessity of her remembering them farther. +Whereas, in my opinion, by her taking so much notice of you, and +treating you in this kind of way, she has given you a sort of claim on +her future consideration, which a conscientious woman would not +disregard. Nothing can be kinder than her behaviour; and she can +hardly do all this, without being aware of the expectation it raises." + +"But she raises none in those most concerned. Indeed, brother, your +anxiety for our welfare and prosperity carries you too far." + +"Why, to be sure," said he, seeming to recollect himself, "people have +little, have very little in their power. But, my dear Elinor, what is +the matter with Marianne?--she looks very unwell, has lost her colour, +and is grown quite thin. Is she ill?" + +"She is not well, she has had a nervous complaint on her for several +weeks." + +"I am sorry for that. At her time of life, any thing of an illness +destroys the bloom for ever! Her's has been a very short one! She was +as handsome a girl last September, as I ever saw; and as likely to +attract the man. There was something in her style of beauty, to +please them particularly. I remember Fanny used to say that she would +marry sooner and better than you did; not but what she is exceedingly +fond of _you_, but so it happened to strike her. She will be mistaken, +however. I question whether Marianne _now_, will marry a man worth +more than five or six hundred a-year, at the utmost, and I am very +much deceived if _you_ do not do better. Dorsetshire! I know very +little of Dorsetshire; but, my dear Elinor, I shall be exceedingly +glad to know more of it; and I think I can answer for your having +Fanny and myself among the earliest and best pleased of your +visitors." + +Elinor tried very seriously to convince him that there was no +likelihood of her marrying Colonel Brandon; but it was an expectation +of too much pleasure to himself to be relinquished, and he was really +resolved on seeking an intimacy with that gentleman, and promoting the +marriage by every possible attention. He had just compunction enough +for having done nothing for his sisters himself, to be exceedingly +anxious that everybody else should do a great deal; and an offer from +Colonel Brandon, or a legacy from Mrs. Jennings, was the easiest means +of atoning for his own neglect. + +They were lucky enough to find Lady Middleton at home, and Sir John +came in before their visit ended. Abundance of civilities passed on +all sides. Sir John was ready to like anybody, and though Mr. Dashwood +did not seem to know much about horses, he soon set him down as a very +good-natured fellow: while Lady Middleton saw enough of fashion in his +appearance to think his acquaintance worth having; and Mr. Dashwood +went away delighted with both. + +"I shall have a charming account to carry to Fanny," said he, as he +walked back with his sister. "Lady Middleton is really a most elegant +woman! Such a woman as I am sure Fanny will be glad to know. And Mrs. +Jennings too, an exceedingly well-behaved woman, though not so elegant +as her daughter. Your sister need not have any scruple even of +visiting _her_, which, to say the truth, has been a little the case, +and very naturally; for we only knew that Mrs. Jennings was the widow +of a man who had got all his money in a low way; and Fanny and Mrs. +Ferrars were both strongly prepossessed, that neither she nor her +daughters were such kind of women as Fanny would like to associate +with. But now I can carry her a most satisfactory account of both." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +Mrs. John Dashwood had so much confidence in her husband's judgment, +that she waited the very next day both on Mrs. Jennings and her +daughter; and her confidence was rewarded by finding even the former, +even the woman with whom her sisters were staying, by no means +unworthy her notice; and as for Lady Middleton, she found her one of +the most charming women in the world! + +Lady Middleton was equally pleased with Mrs. Dashwood. There was a +kind of cold hearted selfishness on both sides, which mutually +attracted them; and they sympathised with each other in an insipid +propriety of demeanor, and a general want of understanding. + +The same manners, however, which recommended Mrs. John Dashwood to the +good opinion of Lady Middleton did not suit the fancy of Mrs. +Jennings, and to _her_ she appeared nothing more than a little +proud-looking woman of uncordial address, who met her husband's +sisters without any affection, and almost without having anything to +say to them; for of the quarter of an hour bestowed on Berkeley +Street, she sat at least seven minutes and a half in silence. + +Elinor wanted very much to know, though she did not choose to ask, +whether Edward was then in town; but nothing would have induced Fanny +voluntarily to mention his name before her, till able to tell her that +his marriage with Miss Morton was resolved on, or till her husband's +expectations on Colonel Brandon were answered; because she believed +them still so very much attached to each other, that they could not be +too sedulously divided in word and deed on every occasion. The +intelligence however, which _she_ would not give, soon flowed from +another quarter. Lucy came very shortly to claim Elinor's compassion +on being unable to see Edward, though he had arrived in town with Mr. +and Mrs. Dashwood. He dared not come to Bartlett's Buildings for fear +of detection, and though their mutual impatience to meet, was not to +be told, they could do nothing at present but write. + +Edward assured them himself of his being in town, within a very short +time, by twice calling in Berkeley Street. Twice was his card found on +the table, when they returned from their morning's engagements. Elinor +was pleased that he had called; and still more pleased that she had +missed him. + +The Dashwoods were so prodigiously delighted with the Middletons, +that, though not much in the habit of giving anything, they determined +to give them--a dinner; and soon after their acquaintance began, +invited them to dine in Harley Street, where they had taken a very +good house for three months. Their sisters and Mrs. Jennings were +invited likewise, and John Dashwood was careful to secure Colonel +Brandon, who, always glad to be where the Miss Dashwoods were, +received his eager civilities with some surprise, but much more +pleasure. They were to meet Mrs. Ferrars; but Elinor could not learn +whether her sons were to be of the party. The expectation of seeing +_her_, however, was enough to make her interested in the engagement; +for though she could now meet Edward's mother without that strong +anxiety which had once promised to attend such an introduction, though +she could now see her with perfect indifference as to her opinion of +herself, her desire of being in company with Mrs. Ferrars, her +curiosity to know what she was like, was as lively as ever. + +The interest with which she thus anticipated the party, was soon +afterwards increased, more powerfully than pleasantly, by her hearing +that the Miss Steeles were also to be at it. + +So well had they recommended themselves to Lady Middleton, so +agreeable had their assiduities made them to her, that though Lucy was +certainly not so elegant, and her sister not even genteel, she was as +ready as Sir John to ask them to spend a week or two in Conduit +Street; and it happened to be particularly convenient to the Miss +Steeles, as soon as the Dashwoods' invitation was known, that their +visit should begin a few days before the party took place. + +Their claims to the notice of Mrs. John Dashwood, as the nieces of +the gentleman who for many years had had the care of her brother, +might not have done much, however, towards procuring them seats at her +table; but as Lady Middleton's guests they must be welcome; and Lucy, +who had long wanted to be personally known to the family, to have a +nearer view of their characters and her own difficulties, and to have +an opportunity of endeavouring to please them, had seldom been happier +in her life, than she was on receiving Mrs. John Dashwood's card. + +On Elinor its effect was very different. She began immediately to +determine, that Edward who lived with his mother, must be asked as his +mother was, to a party given by his sister; and to see him for the +first time, after all that passed, in the company of Lucy!--she hardly +knew how she could bear it! + +These apprehensions, perhaps, were not founded entirely on reason, and +certainly not at all on truth. They were relieved however, not by her +own recollection, but by the good will of Lucy, who believed herself +to be inflicting a severe disappointment when she told her that Edward +certainly would not be in Harley Street on Tuesday, and even hoped to +be carrying the pain still farther by persuading her that he was kept +away by the extreme affection for herself, which he could not conceal +when they were together. + +The important Tuesday came that was to introduce the two young ladies +to this formidable mother-in-law. + +"Pity me, dear Miss Dashwood!" said Lucy, as they walked up the stairs +together--for the Middletons arrived so directly after Mrs. Jennings, +that they all followed the servant at the same time--"There is nobody +here but you, that can feel for me. I declare I can hardly stand. Good +gracious!--In a moment I shall see the person that all my happiness +depends on--that is to be my mother!"-- + +Elinor could have given her immediate relief by suggesting the +possibility of its being Miss Morton's mother, rather than her own, +whom they were about to behold; but instead of doing that, she assured +her, and with great sincerity, that she did pity her--to the utter +amazement of Lucy, who, though really uncomfortable herself, hoped at +least to be an object of irrepressible envy to Elinor. + +Mrs. Ferrars was a little, thin woman, upright, even to formality, in +her figure, and serious, even to sourness, in her aspect. Her +complexion was sallow; and her features small, without beauty, and +naturally without expression; but a lucky contraction of the brow had +rescued her countenance from the disgrace of insipidity, by giving it +the strong characters of pride and ill nature. She was not a woman of +many words; for, unlike people in general, she proportioned them to +the number of her ideas; and of the few syllables that did escape her, +not one fell to the share of Miss Dashwood, whom she eyed with the +spirited determination of disliking her at all events. + +Elinor could not _now_ be made unhappy by this behaviour. A few months +ago it would have hurt her exceedingly; but it was not in Mrs. +Ferrars' power to distress her by it now; and the difference of her +manners to the Miss Steeles, a difference which seemed purposely made +to humble her more, only amused her. She could not but smile to see +the graciousness of both mother and daughter towards the very +person--for Lucy was particularly distinguished--whom of all others, +had they known as much as she did, they would have been most anxious +to mortify; while she herself, who had comparatively no power to wound +them, sat pointedly slighted by both. But while she smiled at a +graciousness so misapplied, she could not reflect on the mean-spirited +folly from which it sprung, nor observe the studied attentions with +which the Miss Steeles courted its continuance, without thoroughly +despising them all four. + +Lucy was all exultation on being so honorably distinguished; and Miss +Steele wanted only to be teased about Dr. Davies to be perfectly +happy. + +The dinner was a grand one, the servants were numerous, and every +thing bespoke the Mistress's inclination for show, and the Master's +ability to support it. In spite of the improvements and additions +which were making to the Norland estate, and in spite of its owner +having once been within some thousand pounds of being obliged to sell +out at a loss, nothing gave any symptom of that indigence which he had +tried to infer from it; no poverty of any kind, except of +conversation, appeared; but there, the deficiency was considerable. +John Dashwood had not much to say for himself that was worth hearing, +and his wife had still less. But there was no peculiar disgrace in +this; for it was very much the case with the chief of their visitors, +who almost all laboured under one or other of these disqualifications +for being agreeable--Want of sense, either natural or improved--want +of elegance--want of spirits--or want of temper. + +When the ladies withdrew to the drawing-room after dinner, this +poverty was particularly evident, for the gentlemen _had_ supplied the +discourse with some variety--the variety of politics, inclosing land, +and breaking horses--but then it was all over; and one subject only +engaged the ladies till coffee came in, which was the comparative +heights of Harry Dashwood, and Lady Middleton's second son William, +who were nearly of the same age. + +Had both the children been there, the affair might have been +determined too easily by measuring them at once; but as Harry only was +present, it was all conjectural assertion on both sides; and every +body had a right to be equally positive in their opinion, and to +repeat it over and over again as often as they liked. + +The parties stood thus:-- + +The two mothers, though each really convinced that her own son was the +tallest, politely decided in favour of the other. The two +grandmothers, with not less partiality, but more sincerity, were +equally earnest in support of their own descendant. + +Lucy, who was hardly less anxious to please one parent than the other, +thought the boys were both remarkably tall for their age, and could +not conceive that there could be the smallest difference in the world +between them; and Miss Steele, with yet greater address gave it, as +fast as she could, in favour of each. + +Elinor, having once delivered her opinion on William's side, by which +she offended Mrs. Ferrars and Fanny still more, did not see the +necessity of enforcing it by any farther assertion; and Marianne, when +called on for her's, offended them all, by declaring that she had no +opinion to give, as she had never thought about it. + +Before her removing from Norland, Elinor had painted a very pretty +pair of screens for her sister-in-law, which being now just mounted +and brought home, ornamented her present drawing room; and these +screens, catching the eye of John Dashwood on his following the other +gentlemen into the room, were officiously handed by him to Colonel +Brandon for his admiration. + +"These are done by my eldest sister," said he; "and you, as a man of +taste, will, I dare say, be pleased with them. I do not know whether +you have ever happened to see any of her performances before, but she +is in general reckoned to draw extremely well." + +The Colonel, though disclaiming all pretensions to connoisseurship, +warmly admired the screens, as he would have done any thing painted by +Miss Dashwood; and on the curiosity of the others being of course +excited, they were handed round for general inspection. Mrs. Ferrars, +not aware of their being Elinor's work, particularly requested to look +at them; and after they had received gratifying testimony of Lady +Middleton's approbation, Fanny presented them to her mother, +considerately informing her, at the same time, that they were done by +Miss Dashwood. + +"Hum"--said Mrs. Ferrars--"very pretty,"--and without regarding them +at all, returned them to her daughter. + +Perhaps Fanny thought for a moment that her mother had been quite rude +enough,--for, colouring a little, she immediately said-- + +"They are very pretty, ma'am--an't they?" But then again, the dread of +having been too civil, too encouraging herself, probably came over +her, for she presently added, "Do you not think they are something in +Miss Morton's style of painting, Ma'am?--She _does_ paint most +delightfully!--How beautifully her last landscape is done!" + +"Beautifully indeed! But _she_ does every thing well." + +Marianne could not bear this. She was already greatly displeased with +Mrs. Ferrars; and such ill-timed praise of another, at Elinor's +expense, though she had not any notion of what was principally meant +by it, provoked her immediately to say with warmth-- + +"This is admiration of a very particular kind! what is Miss Morton to +us? who knows, or who cares, for her?--it is Elinor of whom _we_ think +and speak." + +And so saying, she took the screens out of her sister-in-law's hands, +to admire them herself as they ought to be admired. + +[Illustration: _Mrs. Ferrars._] + +Mrs. Ferrars looked exceedingly angry, and drawing herself up more +stiffly than ever, pronounced in retort this bitter philippic, "Miss +Morton is Lord Morton's daughter." + +Fanny looked very angry too, and her husband was all in a fright at +his sister's audacity. Elinor was much more hurt by Marianne's warmth +than she had been by what produced it; but Colonel Brandon's eyes, as +they were fixed on Marianne, declared that he noticed only what was +amiable in it, the affectionate heart which could not bear to see a +sister slighted in the smallest point. + +Marianne's feelings did not stop here. The cold insolence of Mrs. +Ferrars's general behaviour to her sister, seemed, to her, to foretell +such difficulties and distresses to Elinor, as her own wounded heart +taught her to think of with horror; and urged by a strong impulse of +affectionate sensibility, she moved after a moment, to her sister's +chair, and putting one arm round her neck, and one cheek close to +hers, said in a low, but eager, voice-- + +"Dear, dear Elinor, don't mind them. Don't let them make _you_ +unhappy." + +She could say no more; her spirits were quite overcome, and hiding her +face on Elinor's shoulder, she burst into tears. Every body's +attention was called, and almost every body was concerned. Colonel +Brandon rose up and went to them without knowing what he did. Mrs. +Jennings, with a very intelligent "Ah! poor dear," immediately gave +her her salts; and Sir John felt so desperately enraged against the +author of this nervous distress, that he instantly changed his seat to +one close by Lucy Steele, and gave her, in a whisper, a brief account +of the whole shocking affair. + +In a few minutes, however, Marianne was recovered enough to put an end +to the bustle, and sit down among the rest; though her spirits +retained the impression of what had passed, the whole evening. + +"Poor Marianne!" said her brother to Colonel Brandon, in a low voice, +as soon as he could secure his attention: "She has not such good +health as her sister,--she is very nervous,--she has not Elinor's +constitution;--and one must allow that there is something very trying +to a young woman who _has been_ a beauty in the loss of her personal +attractions. You would not think it perhaps, but Marianne _was_ +remarkably handsome a few months ago; quite as handsome as Elinor. Now +you see it is all gone." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +Elinor's curiosity to see Mrs. Ferrars was satisfied. She had found in +her every thing that could tend to make a farther connection between +the families undesirable. She had seen enough of her pride, her +meanness, and her determined prejudice against herself, to comprehend +all the difficulties that must have perplexed the engagement, and +retarded the marriage, of Edward and herself, had he been otherwise +free;--and she had seen almost enough to be thankful for her _own_ +sake, that one greater obstacle preserved her from suffering under any +other of Mrs. Ferrars's creation, preserved her from all dependence +upon her caprice, or any solicitude for her good opinion. Or at least, +if she did not bring herself quite to rejoice in Edward's being +fettered to Lucy, she determined, that had Lucy been more amiable, she +_ought_ to have rejoiced. + +She wondered that Lucy's spirits could be so very much elevated by the +civility of Mrs. Ferrars;--that her interest and her vanity should so +very much blind her as to make the attention which seemed only paid +her because she was _not Elinor_ appear a compliment to herself--or to +allow her to derive encouragement from a preference only given her, +because her real situation was unknown. But that it was so, had not +only been declared by Lucy's eyes at the time, but was declared over +again the next morning more openly, for at her particular desire, Lady +Middleton set her down in Berkeley Street on the chance of seeing +Elinor alone, to tell her how happy she was. + +The chance proved a lucky one, for a message from Mrs. Palmer soon +after she arrived, carried Mrs. Jennings away. + +"My dear friend," cried Lucy, as soon as they were by themselves, "I +come to talk to you of my happiness. Could anything be so flattering +as Mrs. Ferrars's way of treating me yesterday? So exceeding affable +as she was! You know how I dreaded the thoughts of seeing her; but the +very moment I was introduced, there was such an affability in her +behaviour as really should seem to say, she had quite took a fancy to +me. Now was not it so? You saw it all; and was not you quite struck +with it?" + +"She was certainly very civil to you." + +"Civil!--Did you see nothing but only civility?--I saw a vast deal +more. Such kindness as fell to the share of nobody but me!--No pride, +no hauteur, and your sister just the same--all sweetness and +affability!" + +Elinor wished to talk of something else, but Lucy still pressed her to +own that she had reason for her happiness; and Elinor was obliged to +go on. + +"Undoubtedly, if they had known your engagement," said she, "nothing +could be more flattering than their treatment of you;--but as that was +not the case--" + +"I guessed you would say so," replied Lucy quickly--"but there was no +reason in the world why Mrs. Ferrars should seem to like me, if she +did not, and her liking me is every thing. You shan't talk me out of +my satisfaction. I am sure it will all end well, and there will be no +difficulties at all, to what I used to think. Mrs. Ferrars is a +charming woman, and so is your sister. They are both delightful women, +indeed!--I wonder I should never hear you say how agreeable Mrs. +Dashwood was!" + +To this Elinor had no answer to make, and did not attempt any. + +"Are you ill, Miss Dashwood?--you seem low--you don't speak;--sure you +an't well." + +"I never was in better health." + +"I am glad of it with all my heart; but really you did not look it. I +should be sorry to have _you_ ill; you, that have been the greatest +comfort to me in the world!--Heaven knows what I should have done +without your friendship."-- + +Elinor tried to make a civil answer, though doubting her own success. +But it seemed to satisfy Lucy, for she directly replied-- + +"Indeed I am perfectly convinced of your regard for me, and next to +Edward's love, it is the greatest comfort I have. Poor Edward!--But +now there is one good thing, we shall be able to meet, and meet pretty +often, for Lady Middleton's delighted with Mrs. Dashwood, so we shall +be a good deal in Harley Street, I dare say, and Edward spends half +his time with his sister--besides, Lady Middleton and Mrs. Ferrars +will visit now;--and Mrs. Ferrars and your sister were both so good +to say more than once, they should always be glad to see me. They are +such charming women!--I am sure if ever you tell your sister what I +think of her, you cannot speak too high." + +But Elinor would not give her any encouragement to hope that she +_should_ tell her sister. Lucy continued. + +"I am sure I should have seen it in a moment, if Mrs. Ferrars had took +a dislike to me. If she had only made me a formal courtesy, for +instance, without saying a word, and never after had took any notice +of me, and never looked at me in a pleasant way--you know what I +mean--if I had been treated in that forbidding sort of way, I should +have gave it all up in despair. I could not have stood it. For where +she _does_ dislike, I know it is most violent." + +Elinor was prevented from making any reply to this civil triumph, by +the door's being thrown open, the servant's announcing Mr. Ferrars, +and Edward's immediately walking in. + +It was a very awkward moment; and the countenance of each showed that +it was so. They all looked exceedingly foolish; and Edward seemed to +have as great an inclination to walk out of the room again, as to +advance farther into it. The very circumstance, in its unpleasantest +form, which they would each have been most anxious to avoid, had +fallen on them. They were not only all three together, but were +together without the relief of any other person. The ladies recovered +themselves first. It was not Lucy's business to put herself forward, +and the appearance of secrecy must still be kept up. She could +therefore only _look_ her tenderness, and after slightly addressing +him, said no more. + +But Elinor had more to do; and so anxious was she, for his sake and +her own, to do it well, that she forced herself, after a moment's +recollection, to welcome him, with a look and manner that were almost +easy, and almost open; and another struggle, another effort still +improved them. She would not allow the presence of Lucy, nor the +consciousness of some injustice towards herself, to deter her from +saying that she was happy to see him, and that she had very much +regretted being from home, when he called before in Berkeley Street. +She would not be frightened from paying him those attentions which, as +a friend and almost a relation, were his due, by the observant eyes +of Lucy, though she soon perceived them to be narrowly watching her. + +Her manners gave some re-assurance to Edward, and he had courage +enough to sit down; but his embarrassment still exceeded that of the +ladies in a proportion, which the case rendered reasonable, though his +sex might make it rare; for his heart had not the indifference of +Lucy's, nor could his conscience have quite the ease of Elinor's. + +Lucy, with a demure and settled air, seemed determined to make no +contribution to the comfort of the others, and would not say a word; +and almost every thing that _was_ said, proceeded from Elinor, who was +obliged to volunteer all the information about her mother's health, +their coming to town, &c. which Edward ought to have inquired about, +but never did. + +Her exertions did not stop here; for she soon afterwards felt herself +so heroically disposed as to determine, under pretence of fetching +Marianne, to leave the others by themselves; and she really did it, +and _that_ in the handsomest manner, for she loitered away several +minutes on the landing-place, with the most high-minded fortitude, +before she went to her sister. When that was once done, however, it +was time for the raptures of Edward to cease; for Marianne's joy +hurried her into the drawing-room immediately. Her pleasure in seeing +him was like every other of her feelings, strong in itself, and +strongly spoken. She met him with a hand that would be taken, and a +voice that expressed the affection of a sister. + +"Dear Edward!" she cried, "this is a moment of great happiness!--This +would almost make amends for every thing!" + +Edward tried to return her kindness as it deserved, but before such +witnesses he dared not say half what he really felt. Again they all +sat down, and for a moment or two all were silent; while Marianne was +looking with the most speaking tenderness, sometimes at Edward and +sometimes at Elinor, regretting only that their delight in each other +should be checked by Lucy's unwelcome presence. Edward was the first +to speak, and it was to notice Marianne's altered looks, and express +his fear of her not finding London agree with her. + +"Oh, don't think of me!" she replied with spirited earnestness, though +her eyes were filled with tears as she spoke, "don't think of _my_ +health. Elinor is well, you see. That must be enough for us both." + +This remark was not calculated to make Edward or Elinor more easy, nor +to conciliate the good will of Lucy, who looked up at Marianne with no +very benignant expression. + +"Do you like London?" said Edward, willing to say any thing that might +introduce another subject. + +"Not at all. I expected much pleasure in it, but I have found none. +The sight of you, Edward, is the only comfort it has afforded; and +thank Heaven! you are what you always were!" + +She paused--no one spoke. + +"I think, Elinor," she presently added, "we must employ Edward to take +care of us in our return to Barton. In a week or two, I suppose, we +shall be going; and, I trust, Edward will not be very unwilling to +accept the charge." + +Poor Edward muttered something, but what it was, nobody knew, not even +himself. But Marianne, who saw his agitation, and could easily trace +it to whatever cause best pleased herself, was perfectly satisfied, +and soon talked of something else. + +"We spent such a day, Edward, in Harley Street yesterday! So dull, so +wretchedly dull!--But I have much to say to you on that head, which +cannot be said now." + +And with this admirable discretion did she defer the assurance of her +finding their mutual relatives more disagreeable than ever, and of her +being particularly disgusted with his mother, till they were more in +private. + +"But why were you not there, Edward?--Why did you not come?" + +"I was engaged elsewhere." + +"Engaged! But what was that, when such friends were to be met?" + +"Perhaps, Miss Marianne," cried Lucy, eager to take some revenge on +her, "you think young men never stand upon engagements, if they have +no mind to keep them, little as well as great." + +Elinor was very angry, but Marianne seemed entirely insensible of the +sting; for she calmly replied-- + +"Not so, indeed; for, seriously speaking, I am very sure that +conscience only kept Edward from Harley Street. And I really believe +he _has_ the most delicate conscience in the world; the most +scrupulous in performing every engagement, however minute, and however +it may make against his interest or pleasure. He is the most fearful +of giving pain, of wounding expectation, and the most incapable of +being selfish, of any body I ever saw. Edward, it is so, and I will +say it. What! are you never to hear yourself praised!--Then you must +be no friend of mine; for those who will accept of my love and esteem, +must submit to my open commendation." + +The nature of her commendation, in the present case, however, happened +to be particularly ill-suited to the feelings of two thirds of her +auditors, and was so very unexhilarating to Edward, that he very soon +got up to go away. + +"Going so soon!" said Marianne; "my dear Edward, this must not be." + +And drawing him a little aside, she whispered her persuasion that Lucy +could not stay much longer. But even this encouragement failed, for he +would go; and Lucy, who would have outstayed him, had his visit lasted +two hours, soon afterwards went away. + +"What can bring her here so often?" said Marianne, on her leaving +them. "Could not she see that we wanted her gone!--how teasing to +Edward!" + +"Why so?--we were all his friends, and Lucy has been the longest known +to him of any. It is but natural that he should like to see her as +well as ourselves." + +Marianne looked at her steadily, and said, "You know, Elinor, that +this is a kind of talking which I cannot bear. If you only hope to +have your assertion contradicted, as I must suppose to be the case, +you ought to recollect that I am the last person in the world to do +it. I cannot descend to be tricked out of assurances, that are not +really wanted." + +She then left the room; and Elinor dared not follow her to say more, +for bound as she was by her promise of secrecy to Lucy, she could give +no information that would convince Marianne; and painful as the +consequences of her still continuing in an error might be, she was +obliged to submit to it. All that she could hope, was that Edward +would not often expose her or himself to the distress of hearing +Marianne's mistaken warmth, nor to the repetition of any other part of +the pain that had attended their recent meeting--and this she had +every reason to expect. + +[Illustration: _Drawing him a little aside._] + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +Within a few days after this meeting, the newspapers announced to the +world, that the lady of Thomas Palmer, Esq. was safely delivered of a +son and heir; a very interesting and satisfactory paragraph, at least +to all those intimate connections who knew it before. + +This event, highly important to Mrs. Jennings's happiness, produced a +temporary alteration in the disposal of her time, and influenced, in a +like degree, the engagements of her young friends; for as she wished +to be as much as possible with Charlotte, she went thither every +morning as soon as she was dressed, and did not return till late in +the evening; and the Miss Dashwoods, at the particular request of the +Middletons, spent the whole of every day, in Conduit Street. For their +own comfort they would much rather have remained, at least all the +morning, in Mrs. Jennings's house; but it was not a thing to be urged +against the wishes of everybody. Their hours were therefore made over +to Lady Middleton and the two Miss Steeles, by whom their company, in +fact was as little valued, as it was professedly sought. + +They had too much sense to be desirable companions to the former; and +by the latter they were considered with a jealous eye, as intruding on +_their_ ground, and sharing the kindness which they wanted to +monopolize. Though nothing could be more polite than Lady Middleton's +behaviour to Elinor and Marianne, she did not really like them at all. +Because they neither flattered herself nor her children, she could not +believe them good-natured; and because they were fond of reading, she +fancied them satirical: perhaps without exactly knowing what it was to +be satirical; but _that_ did not signify. It was censure in common +use, and easily given. + +Their presence was a restraint both on her and on Lucy. It checked the +idleness of one, and the business of the other. Lady Middleton was +ashamed of doing nothing before them, and the flattery which Lucy was +proud to think of and administer at other times, she feared they would +despise her for offering. Miss Steele was the least discomposed of the +three, by their presence; and it was in their power to reconcile her +to it entirely. Would either of them only have given her a full and +minute account of the whole affair between Marianne and Mr. +Willoughby, she would have thought herself amply rewarded for the +sacrifice of the best place by the fire after dinner, which their +arrival occasioned. But this conciliation was not granted; for though +she often threw out expressions of pity for her sister to Elinor, and +more than once dropt a reflection on the inconstancy of beaux before +Marianne, no effect was produced, but a look of indifference from the +former, or of disgust in the latter. An effort even yet lighter might +have made her their friend. Would they only have laughed at her about +the Doctor! But so little were they, anymore than the others, inclined +to oblige her, that if Sir John dined from home, she might spend a +whole day without hearing any other raillery on the subject, than what +she was kind enough to bestow on herself. + +All these jealousies and discontents, however, were so totally +unsuspected by Mrs. Jennings, that she thought it a delightful thing +for the girls to be together; and generally congratulated her young +friends every night, on having escaped the company of a stupid old +woman so long. She joined them sometimes at Sir John's, sometimes at +her own house; but wherever it was, she always came in excellent +spirits, full of delight and importance, attributing Charlotte's well +doing to her own care, and ready to give so exact, so minute a detail +of her situation, as only Miss Steele had curiosity enough to desire. +One thing _did_ disturb her; and of that she made her daily complaint. +Mr. Palmer maintained the common, but unfatherly opinion among his +sex, of all infants being alike; and though she could plainly +perceive, at different times, the most striking resemblance between +this baby and every one of his relations on both sides, there was no +convincing his father of it; no persuading him to believe that it was +not exactly like every other baby of the same age; nor could he even +be brought to acknowledge the simple proposition of its being the +finest child in the world. + +I come now to the relation of a misfortune, which about this time +befell Mrs. John Dashwood. It so happened that while her two sisters +with Mrs. Jennings were first calling on her in Harley Street, another +of her acquaintance had dropt in--a circumstance in itself not +apparently likely to produce evil to her. But while the imaginations +of other people will carry them away to form wrong judgments of our +conduct, and to decide on it by slight appearances, one's happiness +must in some measure be always at the mercy of chance. In the present +instance, this last-arrived lady allowed her fancy to so far outrun +truth and probability, that on merely hearing the name of the Miss +Dashwoods, and understanding them to be Mr. Dashwood's sisters, she +immediately concluded them to be staying in Harley Street; and this +misconstruction produced within a day or two afterwards, cards of +invitation for them as well as for their brother and sister, to a +small musical party at her house. The consequence of which was, that +Mrs. John Dashwood was obliged to submit not only to the exceedingly +great inconvenience of sending her carriage for the Miss Dashwoods, +but, what was still worse, must be subject to all the unpleasantness +of appearing to treat them with attention: and who could tell that +they might not expect to go out with her a second time? The power of +disappointing them, it was true, must always be her's. But that was +not enough; for when people are determined on a mode of conduct which +they know to be wrong, they feel injured by the expectation of any +thing better from them. + +Marianne had now been brought by degrees, so much into the habit of +going out every day, that it was become a matter of indifference to +her, whether she went or not: and she prepared quietly and +mechanically for every evening's engagement, though without expecting +the smallest amusement from any, and very often without knowing, till +the last moment, where it was to take her. + +To her dress and appearance she was grown so perfectly indifferent, as +not to bestow half the consideration on it, during the whole of her +toilet, which it received from Miss Steele in the first five minutes +of their being together, when it was finished. Nothing escaped _her_ +minute observation and general curiosity; she saw every thing, and +asked every thing; was never easy till she knew the price of every +part of Marianne's dress; could have guessed the number of her gowns +altogether with better judgment than Marianne herself, and was not +without hopes of finding out before they parted, how much her washing +cost per week, and how much she had every year to spend upon herself. +The impertinence of these kind of scrutinies, moreover, was generally +concluded with a compliment, which though meant as its douceur, was +considered by Marianne as the greatest impertinence of all; for after +undergoing an examination into the value and make of her gown, the +colour of her shoes, and the arrangement of her hair, she was almost +sure of being told that upon "her word she looked vastly smart, and +she dared to say she would make a great many conquests." + +With such encouragement as this, was she dismissed on the present +occasion, to her brother's carriage; which they were ready to enter +five minutes after it stopped at the door, a punctuality not very +agreeable to their sister-in-law, who had preceded them to the house +of her acquaintance, and was there hoping for some delay on their part +that might inconvenience either herself or her coachman. + +The events of this evening were not very remarkable. The party, like +other musical parties, comprehended a great many people who had real +taste for the performance, and a great many more who had none at all; +and the performers themselves were, as usual, in their own estimation, +and that of their immediate friends, the first private performers in +England. + +As Elinor was neither musical, nor affecting to be so, she made no +scruple of turning her eyes from the grand pianoforte, whenever it +suited her, and unrestrained even by the presence of a harp, and +violoncello, would fix them at pleasure on any other object in the +room. In one of these excursive glances she perceived among a group of +young men, the very he, who had given them a lecture on +toothpick-cases at Gray's. She perceived him soon afterwards looking +at herself, and speaking familiarly to her brother; and had just +determined to find out his name from the latter, when they both came +towards her, and Mr. Dashwood introduced him to her as Mr. Robert +Ferrars. + +He addressed her with easy civility, and twisted his head into a bow +which assured her as plainly as words could have done, that he was +exactly the coxcomb she had heard him described to be by Lucy. Happy +had it been for her, if her regard for Edward had depended less on his +own merit, than on the merit of his nearest relations! For then his +brother's bow must have given the finishing stroke to what the +ill-humour of his mother and sister would have begun. But while she +wondered at the difference of the two young men, she did not find that +the emptiness of conceit of the one, put her out of all charity with +the modesty and worth of the other. Why they _were_ different, Robert +exclaimed to her himself in the course of a quarter of an hour's +conversation; for, talking of his brother, and lamenting the extreme +_gaucherie_ which he really believed kept him from mixing in proper +society, he candidly and generously attributed it much less to any +natural deficiency, than to the misfortune of a private education; +while he himself, though probably without any particular, any material +superiority by nature, merely from the advantage of a public school, +was as well fitted to mix in the world as any other man. + +"Upon my soul," he added, "I believe it is nothing more; and so I +often tell my mother, when she is grieving about it. 'My dear Madam,' +I always say to her, 'you must make yourself easy. The evil is now +irremediable, and it has been entirely your own doing. Why would you +be persuaded by my uncle, Sir Robert, against your own judgment, to +place Edward under private tuition, at the most critical time of his +life? If you had only sent him to Westminster as well as myself, +instead of sending him to Mr. Pratt's, all this would have been +prevented.' This is the way in which I always consider the matter, and +my mother is perfectly convinced of her error." + +Elinor would not oppose his opinion, because, whatever might be her +general estimation of the advantage of a public school, she could not +think of Edward's abode in Mr. Pratt's family, with any satisfaction. + +"You reside in Devonshire, I think,"--was his next observation, "in a +cottage near Dawlish." + +Elinor set him right as to its situation; and it seemed rather +surprising to him that anybody could live in Devonshire, without +living near Dawlish. He bestowed his hearty approbation however on +their species of house. + +"For my own part," said he, "I am excessively fond of a cottage; there +is always so much comfort, so much elegance about them. And I protest, +if I had any money to spare, I should buy a little land and build one +myself, within a short distance of London, where I might drive myself +down at any time, and collect a few friends about me, and be happy. I +advise every body who is going to build, to build a cottage. My friend +Lord Courtland came to me the other day on purpose to ask my advice, +and laid before me three different plans of Bonomi's. I was to decide +on the best of them. 'My dear Courtland,' said I, immediately throwing +them all into the fire, 'do not adopt either of them, but by all means +build a cottage.' And that I fancy, will be the end of it. + +"Some people imagine that there can be no accommodations, no space in +a cottage; but this is all a mistake. I was last month at my friend +Elliott's, near Dartford. Lady Elliott wished to give a dance. 'But +how can it be done?' said she; 'my dear Ferrars, do tell me how it is +to be managed. There is not a room in this cottage that will hold ten +couple, and where can the supper be?' I immediately saw that there +could be no difficulty in it, so I said, 'My dear Lady Elliott, do not +be uneasy. The dining parlour will admit eighteen couple with ease; +card-tables may be placed in the drawing-room; the library may be open +for tea and other refreshments; and let the supper be set out in the +saloon.' Lady Elliott was delighted with the thought. We measured the +dining-room, and found it would hold exactly eighteen couple, and the +affair was arranged precisely after my plan. So that, in fact, you +see, if people do but know how to set about it, every comfort may be +as well enjoyed in a cottage as in the most spacious dwelling." + +Elinor agreed to it all, for she did not think he deserved the +compliment of rational opposition. + +As John Dashwood had no more pleasure in music than his eldest sister, +his mind was equally at liberty to fix on any thing else; and a +thought struck him during the evening, which he communicated to his +wife, for her approbation, when they got home. The consideration of +Mrs. Dennison's mistake, in supposing his sisters their guests, had +suggested the propriety of their being really invited to become such, +while Mrs. Jennings's engagements kept her from home. The expense +would be nothing, the inconvenience not more; and it was altogether an +attention which the delicacy of his conscience pointed out to be +requisite to its complete enfranchisement from his promise to his +father. Fanny was startled at the proposal. + +"I do not see how it can be done," said she, "without affronting Lady +Middleton, for they spend every day with her; otherwise I should be +exceedingly glad to do it. You know I am always ready to pay them any +attention in my power, as my taking them out this evening shows. But +they are Lady Middleton's visitors. How can I ask them away from her?" + +Her husband, but with great humility, did not see the force of her +objection. "They had already spent a week in this manner in Conduit +Street, and Lady Middleton could not be displeased at their giving the +same number of days to such near relations." + +Fanny paused a moment, and then, with fresh vigor, said-- + +"My love I would ask them with all my heart, if it was in my power. +But I had just settled within myself to ask the Miss Steeles to spend +a few days with us. They are very well behaved, good kind of girls; +and I think the attention is due to them, as their uncle did so very +well by Edward. We can ask your sisters some other year, you know; but +the Miss Steeles may not be in town any more. I am sure you will like +them; indeed, you _do_ like them, you know, very much already, and so +does my mother; and they are such favourites with Harry!" + +Mr. Dashwood was convinced. He saw the necessity of inviting the Miss +Steeles immediately, and his conscience was pacified by the resolution +of inviting his sisters another year; at the same time, however, slyly +suspecting that another year would make the invitation needless, by +bringing Elinor to town as Colonel Brandon's wife, and Marianne as +_their_ visitor. + +Fanny, rejoicing in her escape, and proud of the ready wit that had +procured it, wrote the next morning to Lucy, to request her company +and her sister's, for some days, in Harley Street, as soon as Lady +Middleton could spare them. This was enough to make Lucy really and +reasonably happy. Mrs. Dashwood seemed actually working for her, +herself; cherishing all her hopes, and promoting all her views! Such +an opportunity of being with Edward and his family was, above all +things, the most material to her interest, and such an invitation the +most gratifying to her feelings! It was an advantage that could not +be too gratefully acknowledged, nor too speedily made use of; and the +visit to Lady Middleton, which had not before had any precise limits, +was instantly discovered to have been always meant to end in two days' +time. + +When the note was shown to Elinor, as it was within ten minutes after +its arrival, it gave her, for the first time, some share in the +expectations of Lucy; for such a mark of uncommon kindness, vouchsafed +on so short an acquaintance, seemed to declare that the good-will +towards her arose from something more than merely malice against +herself; and might be brought, by time and address, to do every thing +that Lucy wished. Her flattery had already subdued the pride of Lady +Middleton, and made an entry into the close heart of Mrs. John +Dashwood; and these were effects that laid open the probability of +greater. + +The Miss Steeles removed to Harley Street, and all that reached Elinor +of their influence there, strengthened her expectation of the event. +Sir John, who called on them more than once, brought home such +accounts of the favour they were in, as must be universally striking. +Mrs. Dashwood had never been so much pleased with any young women in +her life, as she was with them; had given each of them a needle book +made by some emigrant; called Lucy by her Christian name; and did not +know whether she should ever be able to part with them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +Mrs. Palmer was so well at the end of a fortnight, that her mother +felt it no longer necessary to give up the whole of her time to her; +and, contenting herself with visiting her once or twice a day, +returned from that period to her own home, and her own habits, in +which she found the Miss Dashwoods very ready to resume their former +share. + +About the third or fourth morning after their being thus resettled in +Berkeley Street, Mrs. Jennings, on returning from her ordinary visit +to Mrs. Palmer, entered the drawing-room, where Elinor was sitting by +herself, with an air of such hurrying importance as prepared her to +hear something wonderful; and giving her time only to form that idea, +began directly to justify it, by saying-- + +"Lord! my dear Miss Dashwood! have you heard the news?" + +"No, ma'am. What is it?" + +"Something so strange! But you shall hear it all. When I got to Mr. +Palmer's, I found Charlotte quite in a fuss about the child. She was +sure it was very ill--it cried, and fretted, and was all over pimples. +So I looked at it directly, and, 'Lord! my dear,' says I, 'it is +nothing in the world, but the red gum--' and nurse said just the same. +But Charlotte, she would not be satisfied, so Mr. Donavan was sent +for; and luckily he happened to just come in from Harley Street, so he +stepped over directly, and as soon as ever he saw the child, he said +just as we did, that it was nothing in the world but the red gum, and +then Charlotte was easy. And so, just as he was going away again, it +came into my head, I am sure I do not know how I happened to think of +it, but it came into my head to ask him if there was any news. So upon +that, he smirked, and simpered, and looked grave, and seemed to know +something or other, and at last he said in a whisper, 'For fear any +unpleasant report should reach the young ladies under your care as to +their sister's indisposition, I think it advisable to say, that I +believe there is no great reason for alarm; I hope Mrs. Dashwood will +do very well.'" + +"What! is Fanny ill?" + +[Illustration: _In a whisper._] + +"That is exactly what I said, my dear. 'Lord!' says I, 'is Mrs. +Dashwood ill?' So then it all came out; and the long and the short of +the matter, by all I can learn, seems to be this. Mr. Edward Ferrars, +the very young man I used to joke with you about (but however, as it +turns out, I am monstrous glad there was never any thing in it), Mr. +Edward Ferrars, it seems, has been engaged above this twelvemonth to +my cousin Lucy! There's for you, my dear! And not a creature knowing a +syllable of the matter, except Nancy! Could you have believed such a +thing possible? There is no great wonder in their liking one another; +but that matters should be brought so forward between them, and nobody +suspect it! _That_ is strange! I never happened to see them together, +or I am sure I should have found it out directly. Well, and so this +was kept a great secret, for fear of Mrs. Ferrars, and neither she nor +your brother or sister suspected a word of the matter: till this very +morning, poor Nancy, who, you know, is a well-meaning creature, but no +conjurer, popt it all out. 'Lord!' thinks she to herself, 'they are +all so fond of Lucy, to be sure they will make no difficulty about +it;' and so, away she went to your sister, who was sitting all alone +at her carpet-work, little suspecting what was to come--for she had +just been saying to your brother, only five minutes before, that she +thought to make a match between Edward and some Lord's daughter or +other, I forget who. So you may think what a blow it was to all her +vanity and pride. She fell into violent hysterics immediately, with +such screams as reached your brother's ears, as he was sitting in his +own dressing-room down stairs, thinking about writing a letter to his +steward in the country. So up he flew directly, and a terrible scene +took place, for Lucy was come to them by that time, little dreaming +what was going on. Poor soul! I pity _her._ And I must say, I think +she was used very hardly; for your sister scolded like any fury, and +soon drove her into a fainting fit. Nancy, she fell upon her knees, +and cried bitterly; and your brother, he walked about the room, and +said he did not know what to do. Mrs. Dashwood declared they should +not stay a minute longer in the house, and your brother was forced to +go down upon _his_ knees too, to persuade her to let them stay till +they had packed up their clothes. _Then_ she fell into hysterics +again, and he was so frightened that he would send for Mr. Donavan, +and Mr. Donavan found the house in all this uproar. The carriage was +at the door ready to take my poor cousins away, and they were just +stepping in as he came off; poor Lucy in such a condition, he says, +she could hardly walk; and Nancy, she was almost as bad. I declare, I +have no patience with your sister; and I hope, with all my heart, it +will be a match in spite of her. Lord! what a taking poor Mr. Edward +will be in when he hears of it! To have his love used so scornfully! +for they say he is monstrous fond of her, as well he may. I should not +wonder, if he was to be in the greatest passion!--and Mr. Donavan +thinks just the same. He and I had a great deal of talk about it; and +the best of all is, that he is gone back again to Harley Street, that +he may be within call when Mrs. Ferrars is told of it, for she was +sent for as soon as ever my cousins left the house, for your sister +was sure _she_ would be in hysterics too; and so she may, for what I +care. I have no pity for either of them. I have no notion of people's +making such a to-do about money and greatness. There is no reason on +earth why Mr. Edward and Lucy should not marry; for I am sure Mrs. +Ferrars may afford to do very well by her son, and though Lucy has +next to nothing herself, she knows better than any body how to make +the most of every thing; I dare say, if Mrs. Ferrars would only allow +him five hundred a-year, she would make as good an appearance with it +as any body else would with eight. Lord! how snug they might live in +such another cottage as yours--or a little bigger--with two maids, and +two men; and I believe I could help them to a housemaid, for my Betty +has a sister out of place, that would fit them exactly." + +Here Mrs. Jennings ceased, and as Elinor had had time enough to +collect her thoughts, she was able to give such an answer, and make +such observations, as the subject might naturally be supposed to +produce. Happy to find that she was not suspected of any extraordinary +interest in it; that Mrs. Jennings (as she had of late often hoped +might be the case) had ceased to imagine her at all attached to +Edward; and happy above all the rest, in the absence of Marianne, she +felt very well able to speak of the affair without embarrassment, and +to give her judgment, as she believed, with impartiality on the +conduct of every one concerned in it. + +She could hardly determine what her own expectation of its event +really was; though she earnestly tried to drive away the notion of its +being possible to end otherwise at last, than in the marriage of +Edward and Lucy. What Mrs. Ferrars would say and do, though there +could not be a doubt of its nature, she was anxious to hear; and still +more anxious to know how Edward would conduct himself. For _him_ she +felt much compassion;--for Lucy very little--and it cost her some +pains to procure that little;--for the rest of the party none at all. + +As Mrs. Jennings could talk on no other subject, Elinor soon saw the +necessity of preparing Marianne for its discussion. No time was to be +lost in undeceiving her, in making her acquainted with the real truth, +and in endeavouring to bring her to hear it talked of by others, +without betraying that she felt any uneasiness for her sister, or any +resentment against Edward. + +Elinor's office was a painful one. She was going to remove what she +really believed to be her sister's chief consolation,--to give such +particulars of Edward as she feared would ruin him for ever in her +good opinion,-and to make Marianne, by a resemblance in their +situations, which to _her_ fancy would seem strong, feel all her own +disappointment over again. But unwelcome as such a task must be, it +was necessary to be done, and Elinor therefore hastened to perform it. + +She was very far from wishing to dwell on her own feelings, or to +represent herself as suffering much, any otherwise than as the +self-command she had practised since her first knowledge of Edward's +engagement, might suggest a hint of what was practicable to Marianne. +Her narration was clear and simple; and though it could not be given +without emotion, it was not accompanied by violent agitation, nor +impetuous grief. _That_ belonged rather to the hearer, for Marianne +listened with horror, and cried excessively. Elinor was to be the +comforter of others in her own distresses, no less than in theirs; and +all the comfort that could be given by assurances of her own composure +of mind, and a very earnest vindication of Edward from every charge +but of imprudence, was readily offered. + +But Marianne for some time would give credit to neither. Edward seemed +a second Willoughby; and acknowledging as Elinor did, that she _had_ +loved him most sincerely, could she feel less than herself! As for +Lucy Steele, she considered her so totally unamiable, so absolutely +incapable of attaching a sensible man, that she could not be persuaded +at first to believe, and afterwards to pardon, any former affection of +Edward for her. She would not even admit it to have been natural; and +Elinor left her to be convinced that it was so, by that which only +could convince her, a better knowledge of mankind. + +Her first communication had reached no farther than to state the fact +of the engagement, and the length of time it had existed. Marianne's +feelings had then broken in, and put an end to all regularity of +detail; and for some time all that could be done was to soothe her +distress, lessen her alarms, and combat her resentment. The first +question on her side, which led to farther particulars, was-- + +"How long has this been known to you, Elinor? has he written to you?" + +"I have known it these four months. When Lucy first came to Barton +Park last November, she told me in confidence of her engagement." + +At these words, Marianne's eyes expressed the astonishment which her +lips could not utter. After a pause of wonder, she exclaimed-- + +"Four months!--Have you known of this four months?" + +Elinor confirmed it. + +"What!--while attending me in all my misery, has this been on your +heart?--And I have reproached you for being happy!"-- + +"It was not fit that you should then know how much I was the reverse!" + +"Four months!" cried Marianne again. "So calm! so cheerful! how have +you been supported?" + +"By feeling that I was doing my duty. My promise to Lucy, obliged me +to be secret. I owed it to her, therefore, to avoid giving any hint of +the truth; and I owed it to my family and friends, not to create in +them a solicitude about me, which it could not be in my power to +satisfy." + +Marianne seemed much struck. + +"I have very often wished to undeceive yourself and my mother," added +Elinor; "and once or twice I have attempted it; but without betraying +my trust, I never could have convinced you." + +"Four months! and yet you loved him!" + +"Yes. But I did not love only him;--and while the comfort of others +was dear to me, I was glad to spare them from knowing how much I felt. +Now, I can think and speak of it with little emotion. I would not have +you suffer on my account; for I assure you I no longer suffer +materially myself. I have many things to support me. I am not +conscious of having provoked the disappointment by any imprudence of +my own, I have borne it as much as possible without spreading it +farther. I acquit Edward of essential misconduct. I wish him very +happy; and I am so sure of his always doing his duty, that though now +he may harbour some regret, in the end he must become so. Lucy does +not want sense, and that is the foundation on which every thing good +may be built. And after all, Marianne, after all that is bewitching in +the idea of a single and constant attachment, and all that can be said +of one's happiness depending entirely on any particular person, it is +not meant--it is not fit--it is not possible that it should be so. +Edward will marry Lucy; he will marry a woman superior in person and +understanding to half her sex; and time and habit will teach him to +forget that he ever thought another superior to _her._" + +"If such is your way of thinking," said Marianne, "if the loss of what +is most valued is so easily to be made up by something else, your +resolution, your self-command, are, perhaps, a little less to be +wondered at. They are brought more within my comprehension." + +"I understand you. You do not suppose that I have ever felt much. For +four months, Marianne, I have had all this hanging on my mind, without +being at liberty to speak of it to a single creature; knowing that it +would make you and my mother most unhappy whenever it were explained +to you, yet unable to prepare you for it in the least. It was told +me,--it was in a manner forced on me by the very person herself, whose +prior engagement ruined all my prospects; and told me, as I thought, +with triumph. This person's suspicions, therefore, I have had to +oppose, by endeavouring to appear indifferent where I have been most +deeply interested;--and it has not been only once;--I have had her +hopes and exultation to listen to again and again. I have known myself +to be divided from Edward for ever, without hearing one circumstance +that could make me less desire the connection. Nothing has proved him +unworthy; nor has anything declared him indifferent to me. I have had +to contend against the unkindness of his sister, and the insolence of +his mother; and have suffered the punishment of an attachment, without +enjoying its advantages. And all this has been going on at a time, +when, as you know too well, it has not been my only unhappiness. If +you can think me capable of ever feeling, surely you may suppose that +I have suffered _now._ The composure of mind with which I have brought +myself at present to consider the matter, the consolation that I have +been willing to admit, have been the effect of constant and painful +exertion; they did not spring up of themselves; they did not occur to +relieve my spirits at first. No, Marianne. _Then_, if I had not been +bound to silence, perhaps nothing could have kept me entirely--not +even what I owed to my dearest friends--from openly showing that I was +_very_ unhappy."-- + +Marianne was quite subdued. + +"Oh! Elinor," she cried, "you have made me hate myself for ever. How +barbarous have I been to you!--you, who have been my only comfort, who +have borne with me in all my misery, who have seemed to be only +suffering for me! Is this my gratitude? Is this the only return I can +make you? Because your merit cries out upon myself, I have been trying +to do it away." + +The tenderest caresses followed this confession. In such a frame of +mind as she was now in, Elinor had no difficulty in obtaining from her +whatever promise she required; and at her request, Marianne engaged +never to speak of the affair to any one with the least appearance of +bitterness;--to meet Lucy without betraying the smallest increase of +dislike to her;--and even to see Edward himself, if chance should +bring them together, without any diminution of her usual cordiality. +These were great concessions;--but where Marianne felt that she had +injured, no reparation could be too much for her to make. + +She performed her promise of being discreet, to admiration. She +attended to all that Mrs. Jennings had to say upon the subject, with +an unchanging complexion, dissented from her in nothing, and was heard +three times to say, "Yes, ma'am."--She listened to her praise of Lucy +with only moving from one chair to another, and when Mrs. Jennings +talked of Edward's affection, it cost her only a spasm in her throat. +Such advances towards heroism in her sister, made Elinor feel equal to +any thing herself. + +The next morning brought a farther trial of it, in a visit from their +brother, who came with a most serious aspect to talk over the dreadful +affair, and bring them news of his wife. + +"You have heard, I suppose," said he with great solemnity, as soon as +he was seated, "of the very shocking discovery that took place under +our roof yesterday." + +They all looked their assent; it seemed too awful a moment for speech. + +[Illustration: "_You have heard, I suppose._"] + +"Your sister," he continued, "has suffered dreadfully. Mrs. Ferrars +too--in short it has been a scene of such complicated distress--but +I will hope that the storm may be weathered without our being any of +us quite overcome. Poor Fanny! she was in hysterics all yesterday. But +I would not alarm you too much. Donavan says there is nothing +materially to be apprehended; her constitution is a good one, and her +resolution equal to any thing. She has borne it all, with the +fortitude of an angel! She says she never shall think well of anybody +again; and one cannot wonder at it, after being so deceived!--meeting +with such ingratitude, where so much kindness had been shown, so much +confidence had been placed! It was quite out of the benevolence of her +heart, that she had asked these young women to her house; merely +because she thought they deserved some attention, were harmless, +well-behaved girls, and would be pleasant companions; for otherwise we +both wished very much to have invited you and Marianne to be with us, +while your kind friend there, was attending her daughter. And now to +be so rewarded! 'I wish, with all my heart,' says poor Fanny in her +affectionate way, 'that we had asked your sisters instead of them.'" + +Here he stopped to be thanked; which being done, he went on. + +"What poor Mrs. Ferrars suffered, when first Fanny broke it to her, is +not to be described. While she with the truest affection had been +planning a most eligible connection for him, was it to be supposed +that he could be all the time secretly engaged to another +person!--such a suspicion could never have entered her head! If she +suspected _any_ prepossession elsewhere, it could not be in _that_ +quarter. '_There_ to be sure,' said she, 'I might have thought myself +safe.' She was quite in an agony. We consulted together, however, as +to what should be done, and at last she determined to send for Edward. +He came. But I am sorry to relate what ensued. All that Mrs. Ferrars +could say to make him put an end to the engagement, assisted too as +you may well suppose by my arguments, and Fanny's entreaties, was of +no avail. Duty, affection, every thing was disregarded. I never +thought Edward so stubborn, so unfeeling before. His mother explained +to him her liberal designs, in case of his marrying Miss Morton; told +him she would settle on him the Norfolk estate, which, clear of +land-tax, brings in a good thousand a-year; offered even, when matters +grew desperate, to make it twelve hundred; and in opposition to this, +if he still persisted in this low connection, represented to him the +certain penury that must attend the match. His own two thousand pounds +she protested should be his all; she would never see him again; and so +far would she be from affording him the smallest assistance, that if +he were to enter into any profession with a view of better support, +she would do all in her power to prevent him advancing in it." + +Here Marianne, in an ecstasy of indignation, clapped her hands +together, and cried, "Gracious God! can this be possible!" + +"Well may you wonder, Marianne," replied her brother, "at the +obstinacy which could resist such arguments as these. Your exclamation +is very natural." + +Marianne was going to retort, but she remembered her promises, and +forbore. + +"All this, however," he continued, "was urged in vain. Edward said +very little; but what he did say, was in the most determined manner. +Nothing should prevail on him to give up his engagement. He would +stand to it, cost him what it might." + +"Then," cried Mrs. Jennings with blunt sincerity, no longer able to be +silent, "he has acted like an honest man! I beg your pardon, Mr. +Dashwood, but if he had done otherwise, I should have thought him a +rascal. I have some little concern in the business, as well as +yourself, for Lucy Steele is my cousin, and I believe there is not a +better kind of girl in the world, nor one who more deserves a good +husband." + +John Dashwood was greatly astonished; but his nature was calm, not +open to provocation, and he never wished to offend anybody, especially +anybody of good fortune. He therefore replied, without any +resentment-- + +"I would by no means speak disrespectfully of any relation of yours, +madam. Miss Lucy Steele is, I dare say, a very deserving young woman, +but in the present case you know, the connection must be impossible. +And to have entered into a secret engagement with a young man under +her uncle's care, the son of a woman especially of such very large +fortune as Mrs. Ferrars, is perhaps, altogether a little +extraordinary. In short, I do not mean to reflect upon the behaviour +of any person whom you have a regard for, Mrs. Jennings. We all wish +her extremely happy; and Mrs. Ferrars's conduct throughout the whole, +has been such as every conscientious, good mother, in like +circumstances, would adopt. It has been dignified and liberal. Edward +has drawn his own lot, and I fear it will be a bad one." + +Marianne sighed out her similar apprehension; and Elinor's heart wrung +for the feelings of Edward, while braving his mother's threats, for a +woman who could not reward him. + +"Well, sir," said Mrs. Jennings, "and how did it end?" + +"I am sorry to say, ma'am, in a most unhappy rupture:--Edward is +dismissed for ever from his mother's notice. He left her house +yesterday, but where he is gone, or whether he is still in town, I do +not know; for _we_ of course can make no inquiry." + +"Poor young man!--and what is to become of him?" + +"What, indeed, ma'am! It is a melancholy consideration. Born to the +prospect of such affluence! I cannot conceive a situation more +deplorable. The interest of two thousand pounds--how can a man live on +it?--and when to that is added the recollection, that he might, but +for his own folly, within three months have been in the receipt of two +thousand, five hundred a-year (for Miss Morton has thirty thousand +pounds,) I cannot picture to myself a more wretched condition. We must +all feel for him; and the more so, because it is totally out of our +power to assist him." + +"Poor young man!" cried Mrs. Jennings, "I am sure he should be very +welcome to bed and board at my house; and so I would tell him if I +could see him. It is not fit that he should be living about at his own +charge now, at lodgings and taverns." + +Elinor's heart thanked her for such kindness towards Edward, though +she could not forbear smiling at the form of it. + +"If he would only have done as well by himself," said John Dashwood, +"as all his friends were disposed to do by him, he might now have been +in his proper situation, and would have wanted for nothing. But as it +is, it must be out of anybody's power to assist him. And there is one +thing more preparing against him, which must be worse than all--his +mother has determined, with a very natural kind of spirit, to settle +_that_ estate upon Robert immediately, which might have been Edward's, +on proper conditions. I left her this morning with her lawyer, +talking over the business." + +[Illustration: _Talking over the business._] + +"Well!" said Mrs. Jennings, "that is _her_ revenge. Everybody has a +way of their own. But I don't think mine would be, to make one son +independent, because another had plagued me." + +Marianne got up and walked about the room. + +"Can anything be more galling to the spirit of a man," continued John, +"than to see his younger brother in possession of an estate which +might have been his own? Poor Edward! I feel for him sincerely." + +A few minutes more spent in the same kind of effusion, concluded his +visit; and with repeated assurances to his sisters that he really +believed there was no material danger in Fanny's indisposition, and +that they need not therefore be very uneasy about it, he went away; +leaving the three ladies unanimous in their sentiments on the present +occasion, as far at least as it regarded Mrs. Ferrars's conduct, the +Dashwoods', and Edward's. + +Marianne's indignation burst forth as soon as he quitted the room; and +as her vehemence made reserve impossible in Elinor, and unnecessary in +Mrs. Jennings, they all joined in a very spirited critique upon the +party. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +Mrs. Jennings was very warm in her praise of Edward's conduct, but +only Elinor and Marianne understood its true merit. _They_ only knew +how little he had had to tempt him to be disobedient, and how small +was the consolation, beyond the consciousness of doing right, that +could remain to him in the loss of friends and fortune. Elinor gloried +in his integrity; and Marianne forgave all his offences in compassion +for his punishment. But though confidence between them was, by this +public discovery, restored to its proper state, it was not a subject +on which either of them were fond of dwelling when alone. Elinor +avoided it upon principle, as tending to fix still more upon her +thoughts, by the too warm, too positive assurances of Marianne, that +belief of Edward's continued affection for herself which she rather +wished to do away; and Marianne's courage soon failed her, in trying +to converse upon a topic which always left her more dissatisfied with +herself than ever, by the comparison it necessarily produced between +Elinor's conduct and her own. + +She felt all the force of that comparison; but not as her sister had +hoped, to urge her to exertion now; she felt it with all the pain of +continual self-reproach, regretted most bitterly that she had never +exerted herself before; but it brought only the torture of penitence, +without the hope of amendment. Her mind was so much weakened that she +still fancied present exertion impossible, and therefore it only +dispirited her more. + +Nothing new was heard by them, for a day or two afterwards, of affairs +in Harley Street, or Bartlett's Buildings. But though so much of the +matter was known to them already, that Mrs. Jennings might have had +enough to do in spreading that knowledge farther, without seeking +after more, she had resolved from the first to pay a visit of comfort +and inquiry to her cousins as soon as she could; and nothing but the +hindrance of more visitors than usual, had prevented her going to them +within that time. + +The third day succeeding their knowledge of the particulars, was so +fine, so beautiful a Sunday as to draw many to Kensington Gardens, +though it was only the second week in March. Mrs. Jennings and Elinor +were of the number; but Marianne, who knew that the Willoughbys were +again in town, and had a constant dread of meeting them, chose rather +to stay at home, than venture into so public a place. + +An intimate acquaintance of Mrs. Jennings joined them soon after they +entered the Gardens, and Elinor was not sorry that by her continuing +with them, and engaging all Mrs. Jennings's conversation, she was +herself left to quiet reflection. She saw nothing of the Willoughbys, +nothing of Edward, and for some time nothing of anybody who could by +any chance whether grave or gay, be interesting to her. But at last +she found herself with some surprise, accosted by Miss Steele, who, +though looking rather shy, expressed great satisfaction in meeting +them, and on receiving encouragement from the particular kindness of +Mrs. Jennings, left her own party for a short time, to join their's. +Mrs. Jennings immediately whispered to Elinor-- + +"Get it all out of her, my dear. She will tell you any thing if you +ask. You see I cannot leave Mrs. Clarke." + +It was lucky, however, for Mrs. Jennings's curiosity and Elinor's too, +that she would tell any thing _without_ being asked; for nothing would +otherwise have been learnt. + +"I am so glad to meet you;" said Miss Steele, taking her familiarly by +the arm--"for I wanted to see you of all things in the world." And +then lowering her voice, "I suppose Mrs. Jennings has heard all about +it. Is she angry?" + +"Not at all, I believe, with you." + +"That is a good thing. And Lady Middleton, is _she_ angry?" + +"I cannot suppose it possible that she should." + +"I am monstrous glad of it. Good gracious! I have had such a time of +it! I never saw Lucy in such a rage in my life. She vowed at first she +would never trim me up a new bonnet, nor do any thing else for me +again, so long as she lived; but now she is quite come to, and we are +as good friends as ever. Look, she made me this bow to my hat, and put +in the feather last night. There now, _you_ are going to laugh at me +too. But why should not I wear pink ribbons? I do not care if it _is_ +the Doctor's favourite colour. I am sure, for my part, I should never +have known he _did_ like it better than any other colour, if he had +not happened to say so. My cousins have been so plaguing me! I declare +sometimes I do not know which way to look before them." + +She had wandered away to a subject on which Elinor had nothing to say, +and therefore soon judged it expedient to find her way back again to +the first. + +"Well, but Miss Dashwood," speaking triumphantly, "people may say what +they choose about Mr. Ferrars's declaring he would not have Lucy, for +it is no such thing I can tell you; and it is quite a shame for such +ill-natured reports to be spread abroad. Whatever Lucy might think +about it herself, you know, it was no business of other people to set +it down for certain." + +"I never heard any thing of the kind hinted at before, I assure you," +said Elinor. + +[Illustration: "_She put in the feather last night._"] + +"Oh, did not you? But it _was_ said, I know, very well, and by more +than one; for Miss Godby told Miss Sparks, that nobody in their senses +could expect Mr. Ferrars to give up a woman like Miss Morton, with +thirty thousand pounds to her fortune, for Lucy Steele that had +nothing at all; and I had it from Miss Sparks myself. And besides +that, my cousin Richard said himself, that when it came to the point +he was afraid Mr. Ferrars would be off; and when Edward did not come +near us for three days, I could not tell what to think myself; and I +believe in my heart Lucy gave it up all for lost; for we came away +from your brother's Wednesday, and we saw nothing of him not all +Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, and did not know what was become of +him. Once Lucy thought to write to him, but then her spirits rose +against that. However this morning he came just as we came home from +church; and then it all came out, how he had been sent for Wednesday +to Harley Street, and been talked to by his mother and all of them, +and how he had declared before them all that he loved nobody but Lucy, +and nobody but Lucy would he have. And how he had been so worried by +what passed, that as soon as he had went away from his mother's house, +he had got upon his horse, and rid into the country, some where or +other; and how he had stayed about at an inn all Thursday and Friday, +on purpose to get the better of it. And after thinking it all over and +over again, he said, it seemed to him as if, now he had no fortune, +and no nothing at all, it would be quite unkind to keep her on to the +engagement, because it must be for her loss, for he had nothing but +two thousand pounds, and no hope of any thing else; and if he was to +go into orders, as he had some thoughts, he could get nothing but a +curacy, and how was they to live upon that?--He could not bear to +think of her doing no better, and so he begged, if she had the least +mind for it, to put an end to the matter directly, and leave him shift +for himself. I heard him say all this as plain as could possibly be. +And it was entirely for _her_ sake, and upon _her_ account, that he +said a word about being off, and not upon his own. I will take my oath +he never dropt a syllable of being tired of her, or of wishing to +marry Miss Morton, or any thing like it. But, to be sure, Lucy would +not give ear to such kind of talking; so she told him directly (with a +great deal about sweet and love, you know, and all that--Oh, la! one +can't repeat such kind of things you know)--she told him directly, she +had not the least mind in the world to be off, for she could live with +him upon a trifle, and how little so ever he might have, she should be +very glad to have it all, you know, or something of the kind. So then +he was monstrous happy, and talked on some time about what they should +do, and they agreed he should take orders directly, and they must wait +to be married till he got a living. And just then I could not hear any +more, for my cousin called from below to tell me Mrs. Richardson was +come in her coach, and would take one of us to Kensington Gardens; so +I was forced to go into the room and interrupt them, to ask Lucy if +she would like to go, but she did not care to leave Edward; so I just +run up stairs and put on a pair of silk stockings and came off with +the Richardsons." + +"I do not understand what you mean by interrupting them," said Elinor; +"you were all in the same room together, were not you?" + +"No, indeed, not us. La! Miss Dashwood, do you think people make love +when any body else is by? Oh, for shame!--To be sure you must know +better than that. (Laughing affectedly.)--No, no; they were shut up in +the drawing-room together, and all I heard was only by listening at +the door." + +"How!" cried Elinor; "have you been repeating to me what you only +learnt yourself by listening at the door? I am sorry I did not know it +before; for I certainly would not have suffered you to give me +particulars of a conversation which you ought not to have known +yourself. How could you behave so unfairly by your sister?" + +"Oh, la! there is nothing in _that._ I only stood at the door, and +heard what I could. And I am sure Lucy would have done just the same +by me; for a year or two back, when Martha Sharpe and I had so many +secrets together, she never made any bones of hiding in a closet, or +behind a chimney-board, on purpose to hear what we said." + +Elinor tried to talk of something else; but Miss Steele could not be +kept beyond a couple of minutes, from what was uppermost in her mind. + +[Illustration: _Listening at the door._] + +"Edward talks of going to Oxford soon," said she; "but now he is +lodging at No. --, Pall Mall. What an ill-natured woman his mother is, +an't she? And your brother and sister were not very kind! However, I +shan't say anything against them to _you_; and to be sure they did +send us home in their own chariot, which was more than I looked for. +And for my part, I was all in a fright for fear your sister should ask +us for the huswifes she had gave us a day or two before; but, however, +nothing was said about them, and I took care to keep mine out of +sight. Edward have got some business at Oxford, he says; so he must go +there for a time; and after _that_, as soon as he can light upon a +Bishop, he will be ordained. I wonder what curacy he will get! Good +gracious! (giggling as she spoke) I'd lay my life I know what my +cousins will say, when they hear of it. They will tell me I should +write to the Doctor, to get Edward the curacy of his new living. I +know they will; but I am sure I would not do such a thing for all the +world. 'La!' I shall say directly, 'I wonder how you could think of +such a thing? I write to the Doctor, indeed!'" + +"Well," said Elinor, "it is a comfort to be prepared against the +worst. You have got your answer ready." + +Miss Steele was going to reply on the same subject, but the approach +of her own party made another more necessary. + +"Oh, la! here come the Richardsons. I had a vast deal more to say to +you, but I must not stay away from them not any longer. I assure you +they are very genteel people. He makes a monstrous deal of money, and +they keep their own coach. I have not time to speak to Mrs. Jennings +about it myself, but pray tell her I am quite happy to hear she is not +in anger against us, and Lady Middleton the same; and if anything +should happen to take you and your sister away, and Mrs. Jennings +should want company, I am sure we should be very glad to come and stay +with her for as long a time as she likes. I suppose Lady Middleton +won't ask us any more this bout. Good-bye; I am sorry Miss Marianne was +not here. Remember me kindly to her. La! if you have not got your +spotted muslin on!--I wonder you was not afraid of its being torn." + +Such was her parting concern; for after this, she had time only to pay +her farewell compliments to Mrs. Jennings, before her company was +claimed by Mrs. Richardson; and Elinor was left in possession of +knowledge which might feed her powers of reflection some time, though +she had learnt very little more than what had been already foreseen +and foreplanned in her own mind. Edward's marriage with Lucy was as +firmly determined on, and the time of its taking place remained as +absolutely uncertain, as she had concluded it would be;--every thing +depended, exactly after her expectation, on his getting that +preferment, of which, at present, there seemed not the smallest +chance. + +As soon as they returned to the carriage, Mrs. Jennings was eager for +information; but as Elinor wished to spread as little as possible +intelligence that had in the first place been so unfairly obtained, +she confined herself to the brief repetition of such simple +particulars, as she felt assured that Lucy, for the sake of her own +consequence, would choose to have known. The continuance of their +engagement, and the means that were able to be taken for promoting its +end, was all her communication; and this produced from Mrs. Jennings +the following natural remark:-- + +"Wait for his having a living!--ay, we all know how _that_ will +end:--they will wait a twelvemonth, and finding no good comes of it, +will set down upon a curacy of fifty pounds a-year, with the interest +of his two thousand pounds, and what little matter Mr. Steele and Mr. +Pratt can give her. Then they will have a child every year! and Lord +help 'em! how poor they will be!--I must see what I can give them +towards furnishing their house. Two maids and two men, indeed!--as I +talked of t'other day. No, no, they must get a stout girl of all +works. Betty's sister would never do for them _now._" + +The next morning brought Elinor a letter by the two-penny post from +Lucy herself. It was as follows: + +"Bartlett's Building, March. + + "I hope my dear Miss Dashwood will excuse the liberty I take + of writing to her; but I know your friendship for me will + make you pleased to hear such a good account of myself and + my dear Edward, after all the troubles we have went through + lately, therefore will make no more apologies, but proceed + to say that, thank God! though we have suffered dreadfully, + we are both quite well now, and as happy as we must always + be in one another's love. We have had great trials, and + great persecutions, but however, at the same time, + gratefully acknowledge many friends, yourself not the least + among them, whose great kindness I shall always thankfully + remember, as will Edward too, who I have told of it. I am + sure you will be glad to hear, as likewise dear Mrs. + Jennings, I spent two happy hours with him yesterday + afternoon, he would not hear of our parting, though + earnestly did I, as I thought my duty required, urge him to + it for prudence sake, and would have parted for ever on the + spot, would he consent to it; but he said it should never + be, he did not regard his mother's anger, while he could + have my affections; our prospects are not very bright, to be + sure, but we must wait, and hope for the best; he will be + ordained shortly; and should it ever be in your power to + recommend him to any body that has a living to bestow, am + very sure you will not forget us, and dear Mrs. Jennings + too, trust she will speak a good word for us to Sir John, or + Mr. Palmer, or any friend that may be able to assist us. + Poor Anne was much to blame for what she did, but she did it + for the best, so I say nothing; hope Mrs. Jennings won't + think it too much trouble to give us a call, should she come + this way any morning, 'twould be a great kindness, and my + cousins would be proud to know her. My paper reminds me to + conclude; and begging to be most gratefully and respectfully + remembered to her, and to Sir John, and Lady Middleton, and + the dear children, when you chance to see them, and love to + Miss Marianne, + +"I am, etc., etc." + +As soon as Elinor had finished it, she performed what she concluded to +be its writer's real design, by placing it in the hands of Mrs. +Jennings, who read it aloud with many comments of satisfaction and +praise. + +"Very well indeed!--how prettily she writes!--aye, that was quite +proper to let him be off if he would. That was just like Lucy. Poor +soul! I wish I _could_ get him a living, with all my heart. She calls +me dear Mrs. Jennings, you see. She is a good-hearted girl as ever +lived. Very well upon my word. That sentence is very prettily turned. +Yes, yes, I will go and see her, sure enough. How attentive she is, to +think of every body!--Thank you, my dear, for showing it me. It is as +pretty a letter as ever I saw, and does Lucy's head and heart great +credit." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + +The Miss Dashwoods had now been rather more than two months in town, +and Marianne's impatience to be gone increased every day. She sighed +for the air, the liberty, the quiet of the country; and fancied that +if any place could give her ease, Barton must do it. Elinor was hardly +less anxious than herself for their removal, and only so much less +bent on its being effected immediately, as that she was conscious of +the difficulties of so long a journey, which Marianne could not be +brought to acknowledge. She began, however, seriously to turn her +thoughts towards its accomplishment, and had already mentioned their +wishes to their kind hostess, who resisted them with all the eloquence +of her good-will, when a plan was suggested, which, though detaining +them from home yet a few weeks longer, appeared to Elinor altogether +much more eligible than any other. The Palmers were to remove to +Cleveland about the end of March, for the Easter holidays; and Mrs. +Jennings, with both her friends, received a very warm invitation from +Charlotte to go with them. This would not, in itself, have been +sufficient for the delicacy of Miss Dashwood;--but it was enforced +with so much real politeness by Mr. Palmer himself, as, joined to the +very great amendment of his manners towards them since her sister had +been known to be unhappy, induced her to accept it with pleasure. + +When she told Marianne what she had done, however, her first reply was +not very auspicious. + +"Cleveland!"--she cried, with great agitation. "No, I cannot go to +Cleveland."-- + +"You forget," said Elinor gently, "that its situation is not--that it +is not in the neighbourhood of--" + +"But it is in Somersetshire. I cannot go into Somersetshire. There, +where I looked forward to going;--no, Elinor, you cannot expect me to +go there." + +Elinor would not argue upon the propriety of overcoming such +feelings;--she only endeavoured to counteract them by working on +others;--represented it, therefore, as a measure which would fix the +time of her returning to that dear mother, whom she so much wished to +see, in a more eligible, more comfortable manner, than any other plan +could do, and perhaps without any greater delay. From Cleveland, which +was within a few miles of Bristol, the distance to Barton was not +beyond one day, though a long day's journey; and their mother's +servant might easily come there to attend them down; and as there +could be no occasion of their staying above a week at Cleveland, they +might now be at home in little more than three weeks' time. As +Marianne's affection for her mother was sincere, it must triumph with +little difficulty, over the imaginary evils she had started. + +Mrs. Jennings was so far from being weary of her guest, that she +pressed them very earnestly to return with her again from Cleveland. +Elinor was grateful for the attention, but it could not alter her +design; and their mother's concurrence being readily gained, every +thing relative to their return was arranged as far as it could +be;--and Marianne found some relief in drawing up a statement of the +hours that were yet to divide her from Barton. + +"Ah! Colonel, I do not know what you and I shall do without the Miss +Dashwoods;"--was Mrs. Jennings's address to him when he first called +on her, after their leaving her was settled--"for they are quite +resolved upon going home from the Palmers;--and how forlorn we shall +be, when I come back!--Lord! we shall sit and gape at one another as +dull as two cats." + +Perhaps Mrs. Jennings was in hopes, by this vigorous sketch of their +future ennui, to provoke him to make that offer, which might give +himself an escape from it; and if so, she had soon afterwards good +reason to think her object gained; for, on Elinor's moving to the +window to take more expeditiously the dimensions of a print, which she +was going to copy for her friend, he followed her to it with a look of +particular meaning, and conversed with her there for several minutes. +The effect of his discourse on the lady too, could not escape her +observation, for though she was too honorable to listen, and had even +changed her seat, on purpose that she might _not_ hear, to one close +by the piano forte on which Marianne was playing, she could not keep +herself from seeing that Elinor changed colour, attended with +agitation, and was too intent on what he said to pursue her +employment. Still farther in confirmation of her hopes, in the +interval of Marianne's turning from one lesson to another, some words +of the Colonel's inevitably reached her ear, in which he seemed to be +apologising for the badness of his house. This set the matter beyond a +doubt. She wondered, indeed, at his thinking it necessary to do so; +but supposed it to be the proper etiquette. What Elinor said in reply +she could not distinguish, but judged from the motion of her lips, +that she did not think _that_ any material objection;--and Mrs. +Jennings commended her in her heart for being so honest. They then +talked on for a few minutes longer without her catching a syllable, +when another lucky stop in Marianne's performance brought her these +words in the Colonel's calm voice,-- + +"I am afraid it cannot take place very soon." + +Astonished and shocked at so unlover-like a speech, she was almost +ready to cry out, "Lord! what should hinder it?"--but checking her +desire, confined herself to this silent ejaculation. + +"This is very strange!--sure he need not wait to be older." + +This delay on the Colonel's side, however, did not seem to offend or +mortify his fair companion in the least, for on their breaking up the +conference soon afterwards, and moving different ways, Mrs. Jennings +very plainly heard Elinor say, and with a voice which showed her to +feel what she said-- + +"I shall always think myself very much obliged to you." + +Mrs. Jennings was delighted with her gratitude, and only wondered that +after hearing such a sentence, the Colonel should be able to take +leave of them, as he immediately did, with the utmost sang-froid, and +go away without making her any reply!--She had not thought her old +friend could have made so indifferent a suitor. + +What had really passed between them was to this effect. + +"I have heard," said he, with great compassion, "of the injustice your +friend Mr. Ferrars has suffered from his family; for if I understand +the matter right, he has been entirely cast off by them for +persevering in his engagement with a very deserving young woman. Have +I been rightly informed?--Is it so?--" + +Elinor told him that it was. + +"The cruelty, the impolitic cruelty,"--he replied, with great +feeling,--"of dividing, or attempting to divide, two young people +long attached to each other, is terrible. Mrs. Ferrars does not know +what she may be doing--what she may drive her son to. I have seen Mr. +Ferrars two or three times in Harley Street, and am much pleased with +him. He is not a young man with whom one can be intimately acquainted +in a short time, but I have seen enough of him to wish him well for +his own sake, and as a friend of yours, I wish it still more. I +understand that he intends to take orders. Will you be so good as to +tell him that the living of Delaford, now just vacant, as I am +informed by this day's post, is his, if he think it worth his +acceptance--but _that_, perhaps, so unfortunately circumstanced as he +is now, it may be nonsense to appear to doubt; I only wish it were +more valuable. It is a rectory, but a small one; the late incumbent, I +believe, did not make more than 200 L per annum, and though it is +certainly capable of improvement, I fear, not to such an amount as to +afford him a very comfortable income. Such as it is, however, my +pleasure in presenting him to it, will be very great. Pray assure him +of it." + +Elinor's astonishment at this commission could hardly have been +greater, had the Colonel been really making her an offer of his hand. +The preferment, which only two days before she had considered as +hopeless for Edward, was already provided to enable him to marry;--and +_she_, of all people in the world, was fixed on to bestow it!--Her +emotion was such as Mrs. Jennings had attributed to a very different +cause;--but whatever minor feelings less pure, less pleasing, might +have a share in that emotion, her esteem for the general benevolence, +and her gratitude for the particular friendship, which together +prompted Colonel Brandon to this act, were strongly felt, and warmly +expressed. She thanked him for it with all her heart, spoke of +Edward's principles and disposition with that praise which she knew +them to deserve; and promised to undertake the commission with +pleasure, if it were really his wish to put off so agreeable an office +to another. But at the same time, she could not help thinking that no +one could so well perform it as himself. It was an office in short, +from which, unwilling to give Edward the pain of receiving an +obligation from _her_, she would have been very glad to be spared +herself; but Colonel Brandon, on motives of equal delicacy, declining +it likewise, still seemed so desirous of its being given through her +means, that she would not on any account make farther opposition. +Edward, she believed, was still in town, and fortunately she had heard +his address from Miss Steele. She could undertake therefore to inform +him of it, in the course of the day. After this had been settled, +Colonel Brandon began to talk of his own advantage in securing so +respectable and agreeable a neighbour, and _then_ it was that he +mentioned with regret, that the house was small and indifferent; an +evil which Elinor, as Mrs. Jennings had supposed her to do, made very +light of, at least as far as regarded its size. + +"The smallness of the house," said she, "I cannot imagine any +inconvenience to them, for it will be in proportion to their family +and income." + +By which the Colonel was surprised to find that _she_ was considering +Mr. Ferrars's marriage as the certain consequence of the presentation; +for he did not suppose it possible that Delaford living could supply +such an income, as anybody in his style of life would venture to +settle on, and he said so. + +"This little rectory _can_ do no more than make Mr. Ferrars +comfortable as a bachelor; it cannot enable him to marry. I am sorry +to say that my patronage ends with this; and my interest is hardly +more extensive. If, however, by an unforeseen chance it should be in +my power to serve him farther, I must think very differently of him +from what I now do, if I am not as ready to be useful to him then as I +sincerely wish I could be at present. What I am now doing indeed, +seems nothing at all, since it can advance him so little towards what +must be his principal, his only object of happiness. His marriage must +still be a distant good;--at least, I am afraid it cannot take place +very soon." + +Such was the sentence which, when misunderstood, so justly offended +the delicate feelings of Mrs. Jennings; but after this narration of +what really passed between Colonel Brandon and Elinor, while they +stood at the window, the gratitude expressed by the latter on their +parting, may perhaps appear in general, not less reasonably excited, +nor less properly worded than if it had arisen from an offer of +marriage. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + + +"Well, Miss Dashwood," said Mrs. Jennings, sagaciously smiling, as +soon as the gentleman had withdrawn, "I do not ask you what the +Colonel has been saying to you; for though, upon my honour, I _tried_ +to keep out of hearing, I could not help catching enough to understand +his business. And I assure you I never was better pleased in my life, +and I wish you joy of it with all my heart." + +"Thank you, ma'am," said Elinor. "It is a matter of great joy to me; +and I feel the goodness of Colonel Brandon most sensibly. There are +not many men who would act as he has done. Few people who have so +compassionate a heart! I never was more astonished in my life." + +"Lord! my dear, you are very modest. I an't the least astonished at it +in the world, for I have often thought of late, there was nothing more +likely to happen." + +"You judged from your knowledge of the Colonel's general benevolence; +but at least you could not foresee that the opportunity would so very +soon occur." + +"Opportunity!" repeated Mrs. Jennings--"Oh! as to that, when a man has +once made up his mind to such a thing, somehow or other he will soon +find an opportunity. Well, my dear, I wish you joy of it again and +again; and if ever there was a happy couple in the world, I think I +shall soon know where to look for them." + +"You mean to go to Delaford after them I suppose," said Elinor, with a +faint smile. + +"Aye, my dear, that I do, indeed. And as to the house being a bad one, +I do not know what the Colonel would be at, for it is as good a one as +ever I saw." + +"He spoke of its being out of repair." + +"Well, and whose fault is that? why don't he repair it? who should do +it but himself?" + +They were interrupted by the servant's coming in to announce the +carriage being at the door; and Mrs. Jennings immediately preparing to +go, said-- + +"Well, my dear, I must be gone before I have had half my talk out. +But, however, we may have it all over in the evening; for we shall be +quite alone. I do not ask you to go with me, for I dare say your mind +is too full of the matter to care for company; and besides, you must +long to tell your sister all about it." + +Marianne had left the room before the conversation began. + +"Certainly, ma'am, I shall tell Marianne of it; but I shall not +mention it at present to any body else." + +"Oh! very well," said Mrs. Jennings rather disappointed. "Then you +would not have me tell it to Lucy, for I think of going as far as +Holborn to-day." + +"No, ma'am, not even Lucy if you please. One day's delay will not be +very material; and till I have written to Mr. Ferrars, I think it +ought not to be mentioned to any body else. I shall do _that_ +directly. It is of importance that no time should be lost with him, +for he will of course have much to do relative to his ordination." + +This speech at first puzzled Mrs. Jennings exceedingly. Why Mr. +Ferrars was to have been written to about it in such a hurry, she +could not immediately comprehend. A few moments' reflection, however, +produced a very happy idea, and she exclaimed-- + +"Oh, ho! I understand you. Mr. Ferrars is to be the man. Well, so much +the better for him. Ay, to be sure, he must be ordained in readiness; +and I am very glad to find things are so forward between you. But, my +dear, is not this rather out of character? Should not the Colonel +write himself? Sure, he is the proper person." + +Elinor did not quite understand the beginning of Mrs. Jennings's +speech, neither did she think it worth inquiring into; and therefore +only replied to its conclusion. + +"Colonel Brandon is so delicate a man, that he rather wished any one +to announce his intentions to Mr. Ferrars than himself." + +"And so _you_ are forced to do it. Well _that_ is an odd kind of +delicacy! However, I will not disturb you (seeing her preparing to +write.) You know your own concerns best. So good-bye, my dear. I have +not heard of any thing to please me so well since Charlotte was +brought to bed." + +And away she went; but returning again in a moment-- + +"I have just been thinking of Betty's sister, my dear. I should be +very glad to get her so good a mistress. But whether she would do for +a lady's maid, I am sure I can't tell. She is an excellent housemaid, +and works very well at her needle. However, you will think of all that +at your leisure." + +"Certainly, ma'am," replied Elinor, not hearing much of what she said, +and more anxious to be alone, than to be mistress of the subject. + +How she should begin--how she should express herself in her note to +Edward, was now all her concern. The particular circumstances between +them made a difficulty of that which to any other person would have +been the easiest thing in the world; but she equally feared to say too +much or too little, and sat deliberating over her paper, with the pen +in her hand, till broken in on by the entrance of Edward himself. + +He had met Mrs. Jennings at the door in her way to the carriage, as he +came to leave his farewell card; and she, after apologising for not +returning herself, had obliged him to enter, by saying that Miss +Dashwood was above, and wanted to speak with him on very particular +business. + +Elinor had just been congratulating herself, in the midst of her +perplexity, that however difficult it might be to express herself +properly by letter, it was at least preferable to giving the +information by word of mouth, when her visitor entered, to force her +upon this greatest exertion of all. Her astonishment and confusion +were very great on his so sudden appearance. She had not seen him +before since his engagement became public, and therefore not since his +knowing her to be acquainted with it; which, with the consciousness of +what she had been thinking of, and what she had to tell him, made her +feel particularly uncomfortable for some minutes. He too was much +distressed; and they sat down together in a most promising state of +embarrassment. Whether he had asked her pardon for his intrusion on +first coming into the room, he could not recollect; but determining to +be on the safe side, he made his apology in form as soon as he could +say any thing, after taking a chair. + +"Mrs. Jennings told me," said he, "that you wished to speak with me, +at least I understood her so--or I certainly should not have intruded +on you in such a manner; though at the same time, I should have been +extremely sorry to leave London without seeing you and your sister; +especially as it will most likely be some time--it is not probable +that I should soon have the pleasure of meeting you again. I go to +Oxford tomorrow." + +"You would not have gone, however," said Elinor, recovering herself, +and determined to get over what she so much dreaded as soon as +possible, "without receiving our good wishes, even if we had not been +able to give them in person. Mrs. Jennings was quite right in what she +said. I have something of consequence to inform you of, which I was on +the point of communicating by paper. I am charged with a most +agreeable office (breathing rather faster than usual as she spoke.) +Colonel Brandon, who was here only ten minutes ago, has desired me to +say, that understanding you mean to take orders, he has great pleasure +in offering you the living of Delaford now just vacant, and only +wishes it were more valuable. Allow me to congratulate you on having +so respectable and well-judging a friend, and to join in his wish that +the living--it is about two hundred a-year--were much more +considerable, and such as might better enable you to--as might be more +than a temporary accommodation to yourself--such, in short, as might +establish all your views of happiness." + +What Edward felt, as he could not say it himself, it cannot be +expected that any one else should say for him. He _looked_ all the +astonishment which such unexpected, such unthought-of information +could not fail of exciting; but he said only these two words-- + +"Colonel Brandon!" + +"Yes," continued Elinor, gathering more resolution, as some of the +worst was over, "Colonel Brandon means it as a testimony of his +concern for what has lately passed--for the cruel situation in which +the unjustifiable conduct of your family has placed you--a concern +which I am sure Marianne, myself, and all your friends, must share; +and likewise as a proof of his high esteem for your general character, +and his particular approbation of your behaviour on the present +occasion." + +"Colonel Brandon give _me_ a living!--Can it be possible?" + +"The unkindness of your own relations has made you astonished to find +friendship any where." + +"No," replied be, with sudden consciousness, "not to find it in _you_; +for I cannot be ignorant that to you, to your goodness, I owe it all. +I feel it--I would express it if I could--but, as you well know, I am +no orator." + +"You are very much mistaken. I do assure you that you owe it entirely, +at least almost entirely, to your own merit, and Colonel Brandon's +discernment of it. I have had no hand in it. I did not even know, till +I understood his design, that the living was vacant; nor had it ever +occurred to me that he might have had such a living in his gift. As a +friend of mine, of my family, he may, perhaps--indeed I know he _has_, +still greater pleasure in bestowing it; but, upon my word, you owe +nothing to my solicitation." + +Truth obliged her to acknowledge some small share in the action, but +she was at the same time so unwilling to appear as the benefactress of +Edward, that she acknowledged it with hesitation; which probably +contributed to fix that suspicion in his mind which had recently +entered it. For a short time he sat deep in thought, after Elinor had +ceased to speak;--at last, and as if it were rather an effort, he +said-- + +"Colonel Brandon seems a man of great worth and respectability. I have +always heard him spoken of as such, and your brother I know esteems +him highly. He is undoubtedly a sensible man, and in his manners +perfectly the gentleman." + +"Indeed," replied Elinor, "I believe that you will find him, on +farther acquaintance, all that you have heard him to be, and as you +will be such very near neighbours (for I understand the parsonage is +almost close to the mansion-house,) it is particularly important that +he _should_ be all this." + +Edward made no answer; but when she had turned away her head, gave her +a look so serious, so earnest, so uncheerful, as seemed to say, that +he might hereafter wish the distance between the parsonage and the +mansion-house much greater. + +"Colonel Brandon, I think, lodges in St. James Street," said he, soon +afterwards, rising from his chair. + +Elinor told him the number of the house. + +"I must hurry away then, to give him those thanks which you will not +allow me to give _you_; to assure him that he has made me a very--an +exceedingly happy man." + +Elinor did not offer to detain him; and they parted, with a very +earnest assurance on _her_ side of her unceasing good wishes for his +happiness in every change of situation that might befall him; on +_his_, with rather an attempt to return the same good will, than the +power of expressing it. + +"When I see him again," said Elinor to herself, as the door shut him +out, "I shall see him the husband of Lucy." + +And with this pleasing anticipation, she sat down to reconsider the +past, recall the words and endeavour to comprehend all the feelings of +Edward; and, of course, to reflect on her own with discontent. + +When Mrs. Jennings came home, though she returned from seeing people +whom she had never seen before, and of whom therefore she must have a +great deal to say, her mind was so much more occupied by the important +secret in her possession, than by anything else, that she reverted to +it again as soon as Elinor appeared. + +"Well, my dear," she cried, "I sent you up the young man. Did not I do +right?--And I suppose you had no great difficulty--You did not find +him very unwilling to accept your proposal?" + +"No, ma'am; _that_ was not very likely." + +"Well, and how soon will he be ready?--For it seems all to depend upon +that." + +"Really," said Elinor, "I know so little of these kind of forms, that +I can hardly even conjecture as to the time, or the preparation +necessary; but I suppose two or three months will complete his +ordination." + +"Two or three months!" cried Mrs. Jennings; "Lord! my dear, how calmly +you talk of it; and can the Colonel wait two or three months! Lord +bless me!--I am sure it would put _me_ quite out of patience!--And +though one would be very glad to do a kindness by poor Mr. Ferrars, I +do think it is not worth while to wait two or three months for him. +Sure somebody else might be found that would do as well; somebody that +is in orders already." + +"My dear ma'am," said Elinor, "what can you be thinking of? Why, +Colonel Brandon's only object is to be of use to Mr. Ferrars." + +"Lord bless you, my dear! Sure you do not mean to persuade me that the +Colonel only marries you for the sake of giving ten guineas to Mr. +Ferrars!" + +[Illustration: _Both gained considerable amusement_] + +The deception could not continue after this; and an explanation +immediately took place, by which both gained considerable amusement +for the moment, without any material loss of happiness to either, for +Mrs. Jennings only exchanged one form of delight for another, and +still without forfeiting her expectation of the first. + +"Aye, aye, the parsonage is but a small one," said she, after the +first ebullition of surprise and satisfaction was over, "and very +likely _may_ be out of repair; but to hear a man apologising, as I +thought, for a house that to my knowledge has five sitting rooms on +the ground-floor, and I think the housekeeper told me could make up +fifteen beds! and to you too, that had been used to live in Barton +cottage! It seems quite ridiculous. But, my dear, we must touch up the +Colonel to do some thing to the parsonage, and make it comfortable for +them, before Lucy goes to it." + +"But Colonel Brandon does not seem to have any idea of the living's +being enough to allow them to marry." + +"The Colonel is a ninny, my dear; because he has two thousand a-year +himself, he thinks that nobody else can marry on less. Take my word +for it, that, if I am alive, I shall be paying a visit at Delaford +Parsonage before Michaelmas; and I am sure I shan't go if Lucy an't +there." + +Elinor was quite of her opinion, as to the probability of their not +waiting for any thing more. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + + +Edward, having carried his thanks to Colonel Brandon, proceeded with +his happiness to Lucy; and such was the excess of it by the time he +reached Bartlett's Buildings, that she was able to assure Mrs. +Jennings, who called on her again the next day with her +congratulations, that she had never seen him in such spirits before in +her life. + +Her own happiness, and her own spirits, were at least very certain; +and she joined Mrs. Jennings most heartily in her expectation of their +being all comfortably together in Delaford Parsonage before +Michaelmas. So far was she, at the same time, from any backwardness to +give Elinor that credit which Edward _would_ give her, that she spoke +of her friendship for them both with the most grateful warmth, was +ready to own all their obligation to her, and openly declared that no +exertion for their good on Miss Dashwood's part, either present or +future, would ever surprise her, for she believed her capable of doing +any thing in the world for those she really valued. As for Colonel +Brandon, she was not only ready to worship him as a saint, but was +moreover truly anxious that he should be treated as one in all worldly +concerns; anxious that his tithes should be raised to the utmost; and +scarcely resolved to avail herself, at Delaford, as far as she +possibly could, of his servants, his carriage, his cows, and his +poultry. + +It was now above a week since John Dashwood had called in Berkeley +Street, and as since that time no notice had been taken by them of his +wife's indisposition, beyond one verbal enquiry, Elinor began to feel +it necessary to pay her a visit. This was an obligation, however, +which not only opposed her own inclination, but which had not the +assistance of any encouragement from her companions. Marianne, not +contented with absolutely refusing to go herself, was very urgent to +prevent her sister's going at all; and Mrs. Jennings, though her +carriage was always at Elinor's service, so very much disliked Mrs. +John Dashwood, that not even her curiosity to see how she looked after +the late discovery, nor her strong desire to affront her by taking +Edward's part, could overcome her unwillingness to be in her company +again. The consequence was, that Elinor set out by herself to pay a +visit, for which no one could really have less inclination, and to run +the risk of a tête-à-tête with a woman, whom neither of the others had +so much reason to dislike. + +Mrs. Dashwood was denied; but before the carriage could turn from the +house, her husband accidentally came out. He expressed great pleasure +in meeting Elinor, told her that he had been just going to call in +Berkeley Street, and, assuring her that Fanny would be very glad to +see her, invited her to come in. + +They walked up stairs in to the drawing-room. Nobody was there. + +"Fanny is in her own room, I suppose," said he:--"I will go to her +presently, for I am sure she will not have the least objection in the +world to seeing _you._ Very far from it, indeed. _Now_ especially +there cannot be--but however, you and Marianne were always great +favourites. Why would not Marianne come?"-- + +Elinor made what excuse she could for her. + +"I am not sorry to see you alone," he replied, "for I have a good deal +to say to you. This living of Colonel Brandon's--can it be true?--has +he really given it to Edward?--I heard it yesterday by chance, and was +coming to you on purpose to enquire farther about it." + +"It is perfectly true. Colonel Brandon has given the living of +Delaford to Edward." + +"Really!--Well, this is very astonishing!--no relationship!--no +connection between them!--and now that livings fetch such a +price!--what was the value of this?" + +"About two hundred a year." + +"Very well--and for the next presentation to a living of that +value--supposing the late incumbent to have been old and sickly, and +likely to vacate it soon--he might have got I dare say--fourteen +hundred pounds. And how came he not to have settled that matter before +this person's death? _Now_ indeed it would be too late to sell it, but +a man of Colonel Brandon's sense!--I wonder he should be so +improvident in a point of such common, such natural, concern!--Well, I +am convinced that there is a vast deal of inconsistency in almost +every human character. I suppose, however--on recollection--that the +case may probably be _this._ Edward is only to hold the living till +the person to whom the Colonel has really sold the presentation, is +old enough to take it. Aye, aye, that is the fact, depend upon it." + +Elinor contradicted it, however, very positively; and by relating that +she had herself been employed in conveying the offer from Colonel +Brandon to Edward, and, therefore, must understand the terms on which +it was given, obliged him to submit to her authority. + +"It is truly astonishing!"--he cried, after hearing what she +said--"what could be the Colonel's motive?" + +"A very simple one--to be of use to Mr. Ferrars." + +"Well, well; whatever Colonel Brandon may be, Edward is a very lucky +man. You will not mention the matter to Fanny, however, for though I +have broke it to her, and she bears it vastly well,--she will not like +to hear it much talked of." + +Elinor had some difficulty here to refrain from observing, that she +thought Fanny might have borne with composure, an acquisition of +wealth to her brother, by which neither she nor her child could be +possibly impoverished. + +"Mrs. Ferrars," added he, lowering his voice to the tone becoming so +important a subject, "knows nothing about it at present, and I believe +it will be best to keep it entirely concealed from her as long as may +be. When the marriage takes place, I fear she must hear of it all." + +"But why should such precaution be used? Though it is not to be +supposed that Mrs. Ferrars can have the smallest satisfaction in +knowing that her son has money enough to live upon,--for _that_ must +be quite out of the question; yet why, upon her late behaviour, is she +supposed to feel at all? She has done with her son, she cast him off +for ever, and has made all those over whom she had any influence, cast +him off likewise. Surely, after doing so, she cannot be imagined +liable to any impression of sorrow or of joy on his account--she +cannot be interested in any thing that befalls him. She would not be +so weak as to throw away the comfort of a child, and yet retain the +anxiety of a parent!" + +"Ah! Elinor," said John, "your reasoning is very good, but it is +founded on ignorance of human nature. When Edward's unhappy match +takes place, depend upon it his mother will feel as much as if she had +never discarded him; and, therefore every circumstance that may +accelerate that dreadful event, must be concealed from her as much as +possible. Mrs. Ferrars can never forget that Edward is her son." + +"You surprise me; I should think it must nearly have escaped her +memory by _this_ time." + +"You wrong her exceedingly. Mrs. Ferrars is one of the most +affectionate mothers in the world." + +Elinor was silent. + +"We think _now_,"--said Mr. Dashwood, after a short pause, "of +_Robert's_ marrying Miss Morton." + +Elinor, smiling at the grave and decisive importance of her brother's +tone, calmly replied-- + +"The lady, I suppose, has no choice in the affair." + +"Choice!--how do you mean?" + +"I only mean that I suppose, from your manner of speaking, it must be +the same to Miss Morton whether she marry Edward or Robert." + +"Certainly, there can be no difference; for Robert will now to all +intents and purposes be considered as the eldest son;--and as to any +thing else, they are both very agreeable young men: I do not know that +one is superior to the other." + +Elinor said no more, and John was also for a short time silent. His +reflections ended thus. + +"Of _one_ thing, my dear sister," kindly taking her hand, and speaking +in an awful whisper,--"I may assure you; and I _will_ do it, because I +know it must gratify you. I have good reason to think--indeed I have +it from the best authority, or I should not repeat it, for otherwise +it would be very wrong to say any thing about it,--but I have it from +the very best authority,--not that I ever precisely heard Mrs. Ferrars +say it herself--but her daughter _did_, and I have it from her,--that +in short, whatever objections there might be against a certain--a +certain connection, you understand me,--it would have been far +preferable to her, it would not have given her half the vexation that +_this_ does. I was exceedingly pleased to hear that Mrs. Ferrars +considered it in that light; a very gratifying circumstance you know +to us all. 'It would have been beyond comparison,' she said, 'the +least evil of the two, and she would be glad to compound _now_ for +nothing worse.' But however, all that is quite out of the +question,--not to be thought of or mentioned. As to any attachment you +know, it never could be; all that is gone by. But I thought I would +just tell you of this, because I knew how much it must please you. Not +that you have any reason to regret, my dear Elinor. There is no doubt +of your doing exceedingly well,--quite as well, or better, perhaps, +all things considered. Has Colonel Brandon been with you lately?" + +Elinor had heard enough, if not to gratify her vanity, and raise her +self-importance, to agitate her nerves and fill her mind;--and she was +therefore glad to be spared from the necessity of saying much in reply +herself, and from the danger of hearing any thing more from her +brother, by the entrance of Mr. Robert Ferrars. After a few moments' +chat, John Dashwood, recollecting that Fanny was yet uninformed of her +sister's being there, quitted the room in quest of her; and Elinor was +left to improve her acquaintance with Robert, who, by the gay +unconcern, the happy self-complacency of his manner while enjoying so +unfair a division of his mother's love and liberality, to the +prejudice of his banished brother, earned only by his own dissipated +course of life, and that brother's integrity, was confirming her most +unfavourable opinion of his head and heart. + +[Illustration: "_Of one thing I may assure you._"] + +They had scarcely been two minutes by themselves, before he began to +speak of Edward; for he, too, had heard of the living, and was very +inquisitive on the subject. Elinor repeated the particulars of it, as +she had given them to John; and their effect on Robert, though very +different, was not less striking than it had been on _him._ He laughed +most immoderately. The idea of Edward's being a clergyman, and living +in a small parsonage-house, diverted him beyond measure;--and when to +that was added the fanciful imagery of Edward reading prayers in a +white surplice, and publishing the banns of marriage between John +Smith and Mary Brown, he could conceive nothing more ridiculous. + +Elinor, while she waited in silence and immovable gravity, the +conclusion of such folly, could not restrain her eyes from being fixed +on him with a look that spoke all the contempt it excited. It was a +look, however, very well bestowed, for it relieved her own feelings, +and gave no intelligence to him. He was recalled from wit to wisdom, +not by any reproof of her's, but by his own sensibility. + +"We may treat it as a joke," said he, at last, recovering from the +affected laugh which had considerably lengthened out the genuine +gaiety of the moment; "but, upon my soul, it is a most serious +business. Poor Edward! he is ruined for ever. I am extremely sorry for +it; for I know him to be a very good-hearted creature,--as +well-meaning a fellow perhaps, as any in the world. You must not judge +of him, Miss Dashwood, from _your_ slight acquaintance. Poor Edward! +His manners are certainly not the happiest in nature. But we are not +all born, you know, with the same powers,--the same address. Poor +fellow! to see him in a circle of strangers! to be sure it was +pitiable enough; but upon my soul, I believe he has as good a heart as +any in the kingdom; and I declare and protest to you I never was so +shocked in my life, as when it all burst forth. I could not believe +it. My mother was the first person who told me of it; and I, feeling +myself called on to act with resolution, immediately said to her,--'My +dear madam, I do not know what you may intend to do on the occasion, +but as for myself, I must say, that if Edward does marry this young +woman, I never will see him again.' That was what I said immediately. +I was most uncommonly shocked, indeed! Poor Edward! he has done for +himself completely,--shut himself out for ever from all decent +society! but, as I directly said to my mother, I am not in the least +surprised at it; from his style of education, it was always to be +expected. My poor mother was half frantic." + +"Have you ever seen the lady?" + +"Yes; once, while she was staying in this house, I happened to drop in +for ten minutes; and I saw quite enough of her. The merest awkward +country girl, without style, or elegance, and almost without beauty. I +remember her perfectly. Just the kind of girl I should suppose likely +to captivate poor Edward. I offered immediately, as soon as my mother +related the affair to me, to talk to him myself, and dissuade him from +the match; but it was too late _then_, I found, to do any thing, for +unluckily, I was not in the way at first, and knew nothing of it till +after the breach had taken place, when it was not for me, you know, to +interfere. But had I been informed of it a few hours earlier, I think +it is most probable that something might have been hit on. I certainly +should have represented it to Edward in a very strong light. 'My dear +fellow,' I should have said, 'consider what you are doing. You are +making a most disgraceful connection, and such a one as your family +are unanimous in disapproving.' I cannot help thinking, in short, that +means might have been found. But now it is all too late. He must be +starved, you know, that is certain; absolutely starved." + +He had just settled this point with great composure, when the entrance +of Mrs. John Dashwood put an end to the subject. But though _she_ +never spoke of it out of her own family, Elinor could see its +influence on her mind, in the something like confusion of countenance +with which she entered, and an attempt at cordiality in her behaviour +to herself. She even proceeded so far as to be concerned to find that +Elinor and her sister were so soon to leave town, as she had hoped to +see more of them;--an exertion in which her husband, who attended her +into the room, and hung enamoured over her accents, seemed to +distinguish every thing that was most affectionate and graceful. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + + +One other short call in Harley Street, in which Elinor received her +brother's congratulations on their travelling so far towards Barton +without any expense, and on Colonel Brandon's being to follow them to +Cleveland in a day or two, completed the intercourse of the brother +and sisters in town;--and a faint invitation from Fanny, to come to +Norland whenever it should happen to be in their way, which of all +things was the most unlikely to occur, with a more warm, though less +public, assurance, from John to Elinor, of the promptitude with which +he should come to see her at Delaford, was all that foretold any +meeting in the country. + +It amused her to observe that all her friends seemed determined to +send her to Delaford;--a place, in which, of all others, she would now +least choose to visit, or wish to reside; for not only was it +considered as her future home by her brother and Mrs. Jennings, but +even Lucy, when they parted, gave her a pressing invitation to visit +her there. + +Very early in April, and tolerably early in the day, the two parties +from Hanover Square and Berkeley Street set out from their respective +homes, to meet, by appointment, on the road. For the convenience of +Charlotte and her child, they were to be more than two days on their +journey, and Mr. Palmer, travelling more expeditiously with Colonel +Brandon, was to join them at Cleveland soon after their arrival. + +Marianne, few as had been her hours of comfort in London, and eager as +she had long been to quit it, could not, when it came to the point, +bid adieu to the house in which she had for the last time enjoyed +those hopes, and that confidence, in Willoughby, which were now +extinguished for ever, without great pain. Nor could she leave the +place in which Willoughby remained, busy in new engagements, and new +schemes, in which _she_ could have no share, without shedding many +tears. + +Elinor's satisfaction, at the moment of removal, was more positive. +She had no such object for her lingering thoughts to fix on, she left +no creature behind, from whom it would give her a moment's regret to +be divided for ever, she was pleased to be free herself from the +persecution of Lucy's friendship, she was grateful for bringing her +sister away unseen by Willoughby since his marriage, and she looked +forward with hope to what a few months of tranquility at Barton might +do towards restoring Marianne's peace of mind, and confirming her own. + +Their journey was safely performed. The second day brought them into +the cherished, or the prohibited, county of Somerset, for as such was +it dwelt on by turns in Marianne's imagination; and in the forenoon of +the third they drove up to Cleveland. + +Cleveland was a spacious, modern-built house, situated on a sloping +lawn. It had no park, but the pleasure-grounds were tolerably +extensive; and like every other place of the same degree of +importance, it had its open shrubbery, and closer wood walk, a road of +smooth gravel winding round a plantation, led to the front, the lawn +was dotted over with timber, the house itself was under the +guardianship of the fir, the mountain-ash, and the acacia, and a thick +screen of them altogether, interspersed with tall Lombardy poplars, +shut out the offices. + +Marianne entered the house with a heart swelling with emotion from the +consciousness of being only eighty miles from Barton, and not thirty +from Combe Magna; and before she had been five minutes within its +walls, while the others were busily helping Charlotte to show her +child to the housekeeper, she quitted it again, stealing away through +the winding shrubberies, now just beginning to be in beauty, to gain a +distant eminence; where, from its Grecian temple, her eye, wandering +over a wide tract of country to the south-east, could fondly rest on +the farthest ridge of hills in the horizon, and fancy that from their +summits Combe Magna might be seen. + +In such moments of precious, invaluable misery, she rejoiced in tears +of agony to be at Cleveland; and as she returned by a different +circuit to the house, feeling all the happy privilege of country +liberty, of wandering from place to place in free and luxurious +solitude, she resolved to spend almost every hour of every day while +she remained with the Palmers, in the indulgence of such solitary +rambles. + +[Illustration: _Showing her child to the housekeeper._] + +She returned just in time to join the others as they quitted the +house, on an excursion through its more immediate premises; and the +rest of the morning was easily whiled away, in lounging round the +kitchen garden, examining the bloom upon its walls, and listening to +the gardener's lamentations upon blights, in dawdling through the +green-house, where the loss of her favourite plants, unwarily exposed, +and nipped by the lingering frost, raised the laughter of +Charlotte,--and in visiting her poultry-yard, where, in the +disappointed hopes of her dairy-maid, by hens forsaking their nests, +or being stolen by a fox, or in the rapid decrease of a promising +young brood, she found fresh sources of merriment. + +The morning was fine and dry, and Marianne, in her plan of employment +abroad, had not calculated for any change of weather during their stay +at Cleveland. With great surprise therefore, did she find herself +prevented by a settled rain from going out again after dinner. She had +depended on a twilight walk to the Grecian temple, and perhaps all +over the grounds, and an evening merely cold or damp would not have +deterred her from it; but a heavy and settled rain even _she_ could +not fancy dry or pleasant weather for walking. + +Their party was small, and the hours passed quietly away. Mrs. Palmer +had her child, and Mrs. Jennings her carpet-work; they talked of the +friends they had left behind, arranged Lady Middleton's engagements, +and wondered whether Mr. Palmer and Colonel Brandon would get farther +than Reading that night. Elinor, however little concerned in it, +joined in their discourse; and Marianne, who had the knack of finding +her way in every house to the library, however it might be avoided by +the family in general, soon procured herself a book. + +Nothing was wanting on Mrs. Palmer's side that constant and friendly +good humour could do, to make them feel themselves welcome. The +openness and heartiness of her manner more than atoned for that want +of recollection and elegance which made her often deficient in the +forms of politeness; her kindness, recommended by so pretty a face, +was engaging; her folly, though evident was not disgusting, because it +was not conceited; and Elinor could have forgiven every thing but her +laugh. + +[Illustration: _The gardener's lamentations._] + +The two gentlemen arrived the next day to a very late dinner, +affording a pleasant enlargement of the party, and a very welcome +variety to their conversation, which a long morning of the same +continued rain had reduced very low. + +Elinor had seen so little of Mr. Palmer, and in that little had seen +so much variety in his address to her sister and herself, that she +knew not what to expect to find him in his own family. She found him, +however, perfectly the gentleman in his behaviour to all his visitors, +and only occasionally rude to his wife and her mother; she found him +very capable of being a pleasant companion, and only prevented from +being so always, by too great an aptitude to fancy himself as much +superior to people in general, as he must feel himself to be to Mrs. +Jennings and Charlotte. For the rest of his character and habits, they +were marked, as far as Elinor could perceive, with no traits at all +unusual in his sex and time of life. He was nice in his eating, +uncertain in his hours; fond of his child, though affecting to slight +it; and idled away the mornings at billiards, which ought to have been +devoted to business. She liked him, however, upon the whole, much +better than she had expected, and in her heart was not sorry that she +could like him no more; not sorry to be driven by the observation of +his epicurism, his selfishness, and his conceit, to rest with +complacency on the remembrance of Edward's generous temper, simple +taste, and diffident feelings. + +Of Edward, or at least of some of his concerns, she now received +intelligence from Colonel Brandon, who had been into Dorsetshire +lately; and who, treating her at once as the disinterested friend of +Mr. Ferrars, and the kind confidante of himself, talked to her a +great deal of the parsonage at Delaford, described its deficiencies, +and told her what he meant to do himself towards removing them. His +behaviour to her in this, as well as in every other particular, his +open pleasure in meeting her after an absence of only ten days, his +readiness to converse with her, and his deference for her opinion, +might very well justify Mrs. Jennings's persuasion of his attachment, +and would have been enough, perhaps, had not Elinor still, as from the +first, believed Marianne his real favourite, to make her suspect it +herself. But as it was, such a notion had scarcely ever entered her +head, except by Mrs. Jennings's suggestion; and she could not help +believing herself the nicest observer of the two: she watched his +eyes, while Mrs. Jennings thought only of his behaviour; and while his +looks of anxious solicitude on Marianne's feeling, in her head and +throat, the beginning of a heavy cold, because unexpressed by words, +entirely escaped the latter lady's observation,--_she_ could discover +in them the quick feelings, and needless alarm of a lover. + +Two delightful twilight walks on the third and fourth evenings of her +being there, not merely on the dry gravel of the shrubbery, but all +over the grounds, and especially in the most distant parts of them, +where there was something more of wildness than in the rest, where the +trees were the oldest, and the grass was the longest and wettest, +had--assisted by the still greater imprudence of sitting in her wet +shoes and stockings--given Marianne a cold so violent as, though for a +day or two trifled with or denied, would force itself by increasing +ailments on the concern of every body, and the notice of herself. +Prescriptions poured in from all quarters, and as usual, were all +declined. Though heavy and feverish, with a pain in her limbs, and a +cough, and a sore throat, a good night's rest was to cure her +entirely; and it was with difficulty that Elinor prevailed on her, +when she went to bed, to try one or two of the simplest of the +remedies. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + + +Marianne got up the next morning at her usual time; to every inquiry +replied that she was better, and tried to prove herself so, by +engaging in her accustomary employments. But a day spent in sitting +shivering over the fire with a book in her hand, which she was unable +to read, or in lying, weary and languid, on a sofa, did not speak much +in favour of her amendment; and when, at last, she went early to bed, +more and more indisposed, Colonel Brandon was only astonished at her +sister's composure, who, though attending and nursing her the whole +day, against Marianne's inclination, and forcing proper medicines on +her at night, trusted, like Marianne, to the certainty and efficacy of +sleep, and felt no real alarm. + +A very restless and feverish night, however, disappointed the +expectation of both; and when Marianne, after persisting in rising, +confessed herself unable to sit up, and returned voluntarily to her +bed, Elinor was very ready to adopt Mrs. Jennings's advice, of sending +for the Palmers' apothecary. + +He came, examined his patient, and though encouraging Miss Dashwood to +expect that a very few days would restore her sister to health, yet, +by pronouncing her disorder to have a putrid tendency, and allowing +the word "infection" to pass his lips, gave instant alarm to Mrs. +Palmer, on her baby's account. Mrs. Jennings, who had been inclined +from the first to think Marianne's complaint more serious than Elinor, +now looked very grave on Mr. Harris's report, and confirming +Charlotte's fears and caution, urged the necessity of her immediate +removal with her infant; and Mr. Palmer, though treating their +apprehensions as idle, found the anxiety and importunity of his wife +too great to be withstood. Her departure, therefore, was fixed on; and +within an hour after Mr. Harris's arrival, she set off, with her +little boy and his nurse, for the house of a near relation of Mr. +Palmer's, who lived a few miles on the other side of Bath; whither her +husband promised, at her earnest entreaty, to join her in a day or +two; and whither she was almost equally urgent with her mother to +accompany her. Mrs. Jennings, however, with a kindness of heart which +made Elinor really love her, declared her resolution of not stirring +from Cleveland as long as Marianne remained ill, and of endeavouring, +by her own attentive care, to supply to her the place of the mother +she had taken her from; and Elinor found her on every occasion a most +willing and active helpmate, desirous to share in all her fatigues, +and often by her better experience in nursing, of material use. + +Poor Marianne, languid and low from the nature of her malady, and +feeling herself universally ill, could no longer hope that tomorrow +would find her recovered; and the idea of what tomorrow would have +produced, but for this unlucky illness, made every ailment severe; for +on that day they were to have begun their journey home; and, attended +the whole way by a servant of Mrs. Jennings, were to have taken their +mother by surprise on the following forenoon. The little she said was +all in lamentation of this inevitable delay; though Elinor tried to +raise her spirits, and make her believe, as she _then_ really believed +herself, that it would be a very short one. + +The next day produced little or no alteration in the state of the +patient; she certainly was not better, and, except that there was no +amendment, did not appear worse. Their party was now farther reduced; +for Mr. Palmer, though very unwilling to go as well from real humanity +and good-nature, as from a dislike of appearing to be frightened away +by his wife, was persuaded at last by Colonel Brandon to perform his +promise of following her; and while he was preparing to go, Colonel +Brandon himself, with a much greater exertion, began to talk of going +likewise. Here, however, the kindness of Mrs. Jennings interposed most +acceptably; for to send the Colonel away while his love was in so much +uneasiness on her sister's account, would be to deprive them both, she +thought, of every comfort; and therefore telling him at once that his +stay at Cleveland was necessary to herself, that she should want him +to play at piquet of an evening, while Miss Dashwood was above with +her sister, &c. she urged him so strongly to remain, that he, who was +gratifying the first wish of his own heart by a compliance, could not +long even affect to demur; especially as Mrs. Jennings's entreaty was +warmly seconded by Mr. Palmer, who seemed to feel a relief to himself, +in leaving behind him a person so well able to assist or advise Miss +Dashwood in any emergence. + +Marianne was, of course, kept in ignorance of all these arrangements. +She knew not that she had been the means of sending the owners of +Cleveland away, in about seven days from the time of their arrival. It +gave her no surprise that she saw nothing of Mrs. Palmer; and as it +gave her likewise no concern, she never mentioned her name. + +Two days passed away from the time of Mr. Palmer's departure, and her +situation continued, with little variation, the same. Mr. Harris, who +attended her every day, still talked boldly of a speedy recovery, and +Miss Dashwood was equally sanguine; but the expectation of the others +was by no means so cheerful. Mrs. Jennings had determined very early +in the seizure that Marianne would never get over it, and Colonel +Brandon, who was chiefly of use in listening to Mrs. Jennings's +forebodings, was not in a state of mind to resist their influence. He +tried to reason himself out of fears, which the different judgment of +the apothecary seemed to render absurd; but the many hours of each day +in which he was left entirely alone, were but too favourable for the +admission of every melancholy idea, and he could not expel from his +mind the persuasion that he should see Marianne no more. + +On the morning of the third day however, the gloomy anticipations of +both were almost done away; for when Mr. Harris arrived, he declared +his patient materially better. Her pulse was much stronger, and every +symptom more favourable than on the preceding visit. Elinor, confirmed +in every pleasant hope, was all cheerfulness; rejoicing that in her +letters to her mother, she had pursued her own judgment rather than +her friend's, in making very light of the indisposition which delayed +them at Cleveland; and almost fixing on the time when Marianne would +be able to travel. + +But the day did not close so auspiciously as it began. Towards the +evening Marianne became ill again, growing more heavy, restless, and +uncomfortable than before. Her sister, however, still sanguine, was +willing to attribute the change to nothing more than the fatigue of +having sat up to have her bed made; and carefully administering the +cordials prescribed, saw her, with satisfaction, sink at last into a +slumber, from which she expected the most beneficial effects. Her +sleep, though not so quiet as Elinor wished to see it, lasted a +considerable time; and anxious to observe the result of it herself, +she resolved to sit with her during the whole of it. Mrs. Jennings, +knowing nothing of any change in the patient, went unusually early to +bed; her maid, who was one of the principal nurses, was recreating +herself in the housekeeper's room, and Elinor remained alone with +Marianne. + +The repose of the latter became more and more disturbed; and her +sister, who watched, with unremitting attention her continual change +of posture, and heard the frequent but inarticulate sounds of +complaint which passed her lips, was almost wishing to rouse her from +so painful a slumber, when Marianne, suddenly awakened by some +accidental noise in the house, started hastily up, and, with feverish +wildness, cried out,-- + +"Is mama coming?--" + +"Not yet," cried the other, concealing her terror, and assisting +Marianne to lie down again, "but she will be here, I hope, before it +is long. It is a great way, you know, from hence to Barton." + +"But she must not go round by London," cried Marianne, in the same +hurried manner. "I shall never see her, if she goes by London." + +Elinor perceived with alarm that she was not quite herself, and, while +attempting to soothe her, eagerly felt her pulse. It was lower and +quicker than ever! and Marianne, still talking wildly of mama, her +alarm increased so rapidly, as to determine her on sending instantly +for Mr. Harris, and despatching a messenger to Barton for her mother. +To consult with Colonel Brandon on the best means of effecting the +latter, was a thought which immediately followed the resolution of its +performance; and as soon she had rung up the maid to take her place by +her sister, she hastened down to the drawing-room, where she knew he +was generally to be found at a much later hour than the present. + +It was no time for hesitation. Her fears and her difficulties were +immediately before him. Her fears, he had no courage, no confidence to +attempt the removal of; he listened to them in silent despondence; but +her difficulties were instantly obviated, for with a readiness that +seemed to speak the occasion, and the service pre-arranged in his +mind, he offered himself as the messenger who should fetch Mrs. +Dashwood. Elinor made no resistance that was not easily overcome. She +thanked him with brief, though fervent gratitude, and while he went to +hurry off his servant with a message to Mr. Harris, and an order for +post-horses directly, she wrote a few lines to her mother. + +The comfort of such a friend at that moment as Colonel Brandon--or +such a companion for her mother,--how gratefully was it felt!--a +companion whose judgment would guide, whose attendance must relieve, +and whose friendship might soothe her!--as far as the shock of such a +summons _could_ be lessened to her, his presence, his manners, his +assistance, would lessen it. + +_He_, meanwhile, whatever he might feel, acted with all the firmness +of a collected mind, made every necessary arrangement with the utmost +despatch, and calculated with exactness the time in which she might +look for his return. Not a moment was lost in delay of any kind. The +horses arrived, even before they were expected, and Colonel Brandon +only pressing her hand with a look of solemnity, and a few words +spoken too low to reach her ear, hurried into the carriage. It was +then about twelve o'clock, and she returned to her sister's apartment +to wait for the arrival of the apothecary, and to watch by her the +rest of the night. It was a night of almost equal suffering to both. +Hour after hour passed away in sleepless pain and delirium on +Marianne's side, and in the most cruel anxiety on Elinor's, before Mr. +Harris appeared. Her apprehensions once raised, paid by their excess +for all her former security; and the servant who sat up with her, for +she would not allow Mrs. Jennings to be called, only tortured her +more, by hints of what her mistress had always thought. + +Marianne's ideas were still, at intervals, fixed incoherently on her +mother, and whenever she mentioned her name, it gave a pang to the +heart of poor Elinor, who, reproaching herself for having trifled with +so many days of illness, and wretched for some immediate relief, +fancied that all relief might soon be in vain, that every thing had +been delayed too long, and pictured to herself her suffering mother +arriving too late to see this darling child, or to see her rational. + +She was on the point of sending again for Mr. Harris, or if _he_ could +not come, for some other advice, when the former--but not till after +five o'clock--arrived. His opinion, however, made some little amends +for his delay, for though acknowledging a very unexpected and +unpleasant alteration in his patient, he would not allow the danger to +be material, and talked of the relief which a fresh mode of treatment +must procure, with a confidence which, in a lesser degree, was +communicated to Elinor. He promised to call again in the course of +three or four hours, and left both the patient and her anxious +attendant more composed than he had found them. + +With strong concern, and with many reproaches for not being called to +their aid, did Mrs. Jennings hear in the morning of what had passed. +Her former apprehensions, now with greater reason restored, left her +no doubt of the event; and though trying to speak comfort to Elinor, +her conviction of her sister's danger would not allow her to offer the +comfort of hope. Her heart was really grieved. The rapid decay, the +early death of a girl so young, so lovely as Marianne, must have +struck a less interested person with concern. On Mrs. Jennings's +compassion she had other claims. She had been for three months her +companion, was still under her care, and she was known to have been +greatly injured, and long unhappy. The distress of her sister too, +particularly a favourite, was before her;--and as for their mother, +when Mrs. Jennings considered that Marianne might probably be to _her_ +what Charlotte was to herself, her sympathy in _her_ sufferings was +very sincere. + +Mr. Harris was punctual in his second visit; but he came to be +disappointed in his hopes of what the last would produce. His +medicines had failed; the fever was unabated; and Marianne only more +quiet--not more herself--remained in a heavy stupor. Elinor, catching +all, and more than all, his fears in a moment, proposed to call in +further advice. But he judged it unnecessary: he had still something +more to try, some more fresh application, of whose success he was as +confident as the last, and his visit concluded with encouraging +assurances which reached the ear, but could not enter the heart of +Miss Dashwood. She was calm, except when she thought of her mother; +but she was almost hopeless; and in this state she continued till +noon, scarcely stirring from her sister's bed, her thoughts wandering +from one image of grief, one suffering friend to another, and her +spirits oppressed to the utmost by the conversation of Mrs. Jennings, +who scrupled not to attribute the severity and danger of this attack +to the many weeks of previous indisposition which Marianne's +disappointment had brought on. Elinor felt all the reasonableness of +the idea, and it gave fresh misery to her reflections. + +About noon, however, she began--but with a caution--a dread of +disappointment which for some time kept her silent, even to her +friend--to fancy, to hope she could perceive a slight amendment in her +sister's pulse; she waited, watched, and examined it again and again; +and at last, with an agitation more difficult to bury under exterior +calmness, than all her foregoing distress, ventured to communicate her +hopes. Mrs. Jennings, though forced, on examination, to acknowledge a +temporary revival, tried to keep her young friend from indulging a +thought of its continuance; and Elinor, conning over every injunction +of distrust, told herself likewise not to hope. But it was too late. +Hope had already entered; and feeling all its anxious flutter, she +bent over her sister to watch--she hardly knew for what. Half an hour +passed away, and the favourable symptom yet blessed her. Others even +arose to confirm it. Her breath, her skin, her lips, all flattered +Elinor with signs of amendment; and Marianne fixed her eyes on her +with a rational, though languid, gaze. Anxiety and hope now oppressed +her in equal degrees, and left her no moment of tranquillity till the +arrival of Mr. Harris at four o'clock; when his assurances, his +felicitations on a recovery in her sister even surpassing his +expectation, gave her confidence, comfort, and tears of joy. + +Marianne was in every respect materially better, and he declared her +entirely out of danger. Mrs. Jennings, perhaps satisfied with the +partial justification of her forebodings which had been found in their +late alarm, allowed herself to trust in his judgment, and admitted, +with unfeigned joy, and soon with unequivocal cheerfulness, the +probability of an entire recovery. + +Elinor could not be cheerful. Her joy was of a different kind, and led +to any thing rather than to gaiety. Marianne restored to life, health, +friends, and to her doting mother, was an idea to fill her heart with +sensations of exquisite comfort, and expand it in fervent +gratitude;--but it lead to no outward demonstrations of joy, no words, +no smiles. All within Elinor's breast was satisfaction, silent and +strong. + +She continued by the side of her sister, with little intermission the +whole afternoon, calming every fear, satisfying every inquiry of her +enfeebled spirits, supplying every succour, and watching almost every +look and every breath. The possibility of a relapse would of course, +in some moments, occur to remind her of what anxiety was; but when she +saw, on her frequent and minute examination, that every symptom of +recovery continued, and saw Marianne at six o'clock sink into a quiet, +steady, and to all appearance comfortable, sleep, she silenced every +doubt. + +The time was now drawing on, when Colonel Brandon might be expected +back. At ten o'clock, she trusted, or at least not much later her +mother would be relieved from the dreadful suspense in which she must +now be travelling towards them. The Colonel, too!--perhaps scarcely +less an object of pity! Oh! how slow was the progress of time which +yet kept them in ignorance! + +At seven o'clock, leaving Marianne still sweetly asleep, she joined +Mrs. Jennings in the drawing-room to tea. Of breakfast she had been +kept by her fears, and of dinner by their sudden reverse, from eating +much; and the present refreshment, therefore, with such feelings of +content as she brought to it, was particularly welcome. Mrs. Jennings +would have persuaded her, at its conclusion, to take some rest before +her mother's arrival, and allow _her_ to take her place by Marianne; +but Elinor had no sense of fatigue, no capability of sleep at that +moment about her, and she was not to be kept away from her sister an +unnecessary instant. Mrs. Jennings therefore attending her up stairs +into the sick chamber, to satisfy herself that all continued right, +left her there again to her charge and her thoughts, and retired to +her own room to write letters and sleep. + +The night was cold and stormy. The wind roared round the house, and +the rain beat against the windows; but Elinor, all happiness within, +regarded it not. Marianne slept through every blast; and the +travellers, they had a rich reward in store, for every present +inconvenience. + +The clock struck eight. Had it been ten, Elinor would have been +convinced that at that moment she heard a carriage driving up to the +house; and so strong was the persuasion that she _did_, in spite of +the _almost_ impossibility of their being already come, that she moved +into the adjoining dressing-closet and opened a window shutter, to be +satisfied of the truth. She instantly saw that her ears had not +deceived her. The flaring lamps of a carriage were immediately in +view. By their uncertain light she thought she could discern it to be +drawn by four horses; and this, while it told the excess of her poor +mother's alarm, gave some explanation to such unexpected rapidity. + +Never in her life had Elinor found it so difficult to be calm, as at +that moment. The knowledge of what her mother must be feeling as the +carriage stopped the door,--of her doubt--her dread,--perhaps her +despair!--and of what _she_ had to tell! with such knowledge it was +impossible to be calm. All that remained to be done was to be speedy; +and, therefore staying only till she could leave Mrs. Jennings's maid +with her sister, she hurried down stairs. + +The bustle in the vestibule, as she passed along an inner lobby, +assured her that they were already in the house. She rushed to the +drawing-room,--she entered it,--and saw only Willoughby. + +[Illustration: _Opened a window-shutter._] + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + + +Elinor, starting back with a look of horror at the sight of him, +obeyed the first impulse of her heart in turning instantly to quit the +room, and her hand was already on the lock, when its action was +suspended by his hastily advancing, and saying, in a voice rather of +command than supplication-- + +"Miss Dashwood, for half an hour--for ten minutes--I entreat you to +stay." + +"No, sir," she replied with firmness, "I shall _not_ stay. Your +business cannot be with _me._ The servants, I suppose, forgot to tell +you that Mr. Palmer was not in the house." + +"Had they told me," he cried with vehemence, "that Mr. Palmer and all +his relations were at the devil, it would not have turned me from the +door. My business is with you, and only you." + +"With me!"--in the utmost amazement;--"well, sir--be quick--and if you +can--less violent." + +"Sit down, and I will be both." + +She hesitated; she knew not what to do. The possibility of Colonel +Brandon's arriving and finding her there, came across her. But she had +promised to hear him, and her curiosity no less than her honor was +engaged. After a moment's recollection, therefore, concluding that +prudence required dispatch, and that her acquiescence would best +promote it, she walked silently towards the table, and sat down. He +took the opposite chair, and for half a minute not a word was said by +either. + +"Pray be quick, sir," said Elinor, impatiently; "I have no time to +spare." + +He was sitting in an attitude of deep meditation, and seemed not to +hear her. + +"Your sister," said he, with abruptness, a moment afterwards--"is out +of danger. I heard it from the servant. God be praised!--But is it +true? is it really true?" + +Elinor would not speak. He repeated the inquiry with yet greater +eagerness. + +"For God's sake tell me, is she out of danger, or is she not?" + +[Illustration: "_I entreat you to stay._"] + +"We hope she is." + +He rose up, and walked across the room. + +"Had I known as much half an hour ago--But since I _am_ +here,"--speaking with a forced vivacity as he returned to his +seat,--"what does it signify?--For once, Miss Dashwood--it will be the +last time, perhaps--let us be cheerful together. I am in a fine mood +for gaiety. Tell me honestly,"--a deeper glow overspreading his +cheeks, "do you think me most a knave or a fool?" + +Elinor looked at him with greater astonishment than ever. She began to +think that he must be in liquor;--the strangeness of such a visit, and +of such manners, seemed no otherwise intelligible; and with this +impression she immediately rose, saying-- + +"Mr. Willoughby, I advise you at present to return to Combe--I am not +at leisure to remain with you longer. Whatever your business may be +with me, it will be better recollected and explained to-morrow." + +"I understand you," he replied, with an expressive smile, and a voice +perfectly calm; "yes, I am very drunk. A pint of porter with my cold +beef at Marlborough was enough to over-set me." + +"At Marlborough!"--cried Elinor, more and more at a loss to understand +what he would be at. + +"Yes,--I left London this morning at eight o'clock, and the only ten +minutes I have spent out of my chaise since that time procured me a +nuncheon at Marlborough." + +The steadiness of his manner, and the intelligence of his eye as he +spoke, convincing Elinor, that whatever other unpardonable folly might +bring him to Cleveland, he was not brought there by intoxication, she +said, after a moment's recollection-- + +"Mr. Willoughby, you _ought_ to feel, and I certainly _do_, that after +what has passed--your coming here in this manner, and forcing yourself +upon my notice, requires a very particular excuse. What is it, that +you mean by it?"-- + +"I mean,"--said he, with serious energy--"if I can, to make you hate +me one degree less than you do _now._ I mean to offer some kind of +explanation, some kind of apology, for the past; to open my whole +heart to you, and by convincing you, that though I have been always a +blockhead, I have not been always a rascal, to obtain something like +forgiveness from Ma----, from your sister." + +"Is this the real reason of your coming?" + +"Upon my soul it is," was his answer, with a warmth which brought all +the former Willoughby to her remembrance, and in spite of herself made +her think him sincere. + +"If that is all, you may be satisfied already; for Marianne _does_, +she has _long_ forgiven you." + +"Has she?" he cried, in the same eager tone. "Then she has forgiven me +before she ought to have done it. But she shall forgive me again, and +on more reasonable grounds. _Now_ will you listen to me?" + +Elinor bowed her assent. + +"I do not know," said he, after a pause of expectation on her side, +and thoughtfulness on his own, "how _you_ may have accounted for my +behaviour to your sister, or what diabolical motive you may have +imputed to me. Perhaps you will hardly think the better of me,--it is +worth the trial however, and you shall hear every thing. When I first +became intimate in your family, I had no other intention, no other +view in the acquaintance than to pass my time pleasantly while I was +obliged to remain in Devonshire, more pleasantly than I had ever done +before. Your sister's lovely person and interesting manners could not +but please me; and her behaviour to me almost from the first, was of a +kind--It is astonishing, when I reflect on what it was, and what _she_ +was, that my heart should have been so insensible! But at first I must +confess, my vanity only was elevated by it. Careless of her happiness, +thinking only of my own amusement, giving way to feelings which I had +always been too much in the habit of indulging, I endeavoured, by +every means in my power, to make myself pleasing to her, without any +design of returning her affection." + +Miss Dashwood, at this point, turning her eyes on him with the most +angry contempt, stopped him, by saying-- + +"It is hardly worth while, Mr. Willoughby, for you to relate, or for +me to listen any longer. Such a beginning as this cannot be followed +by any thing. Do not let me be pained by hearing any thing more on the +subject." + +"I insist on you hearing the whole of it," he replied, "My fortune was +never large, and I had always been expensive, always in the habit of +associating with people of better income than myself. Every year +since my coming of age, or even before, I believe, had added to my +debts; and though the death of my old cousin, Mrs. Smith, was to set +me free; yet that event being uncertain, and possibly far distant, it +had been for some time my intention to re-establish my circumstances +by marrying a woman of fortune. To attach myself to your sister, +therefore, was not a thing to be thought of; and with a meanness, +selfishness, cruelty, which no indignant, no contemptuous look, even +of yours, Miss Dashwood, can ever reprobate too much,--I was acting in +this manner, trying to engage her regard, without a thought of +returning it. But one thing may be said for me: even in that horrid +state of selfish vanity, I did not know the extent of the injury I +meditated, because I did not _then_ know what it was to love. But have +I ever known it? Well may it be doubted; for, had I really loved, +could I have sacrificed my feelings to vanity, to avarice? or, what is +more, could I have sacrificed hers? But I have done it. To avoid a +comparative poverty, which her affection and her society would have +deprived of all its horrors, I have, by raising myself to affluence, +lost every thing that could make it a blessing." + +"You did then," said Elinor, a little softened, "believe yourself at +one time attached to her?" + +"To have resisted such attractions, to have withstood such tenderness! +Is there a man on earth who could have done it? Yes, I found myself, +by insensible degrees, sincerely fond of her; and the happiest hours +of my life were what I spent with her when I felt my intentions were +strictly honourable, and my feelings blameless. Even _then_, however, +when fully determined on paying my addresses to her, I allowed myself +most improperly to put off, from day to day, the moment of doing it, +from an unwillingness to enter into an engagement while my +circumstances were so greatly embarrassed. I will not reason here--nor +will I stop for _you_ to expatiate on the absurdity, and the worse +than absurdity, of scrupling to engage my faith where my honour was +already bound. The event has proved, that I was a cunning fool, +providing with great circumspection for a possible opportunity of +making myself contemptible and wretched for ever. At last, however, my +resolution was taken, and I had determined, as soon as I could engage +her alone, to justify the attentions I had so invariably paid her, and +openly assure her of an affection which I had already taken such pains +to display. But in the interim--in the interim of the very few hours +that were to pass, before I could have an opportunity of speaking with +her in private--a circumstance occurred--an unlucky circumstance--to +ruin all my resolution, and with it all my comfort. A discovery took +place,"--here he hesitated and looked down. "Mrs. Smith had somehow or +other been informed, I imagine by some distant relation, whose +interest it was to deprive me of her favour, of an affair, a +connection--but I need not explain myself farther," he added, looking +at her with an heightened colour and an enquiring eye,--"your +particular intimacy--you have probably heard the whole story long +ago." + +"I have," returned Elinor, colouring likewise, and hardening her heart +anew against any compassion for him, "I have heard it all. And how you +will explain away any part of your guilt in that dreadful business, I +confess is beyond my comprehension." + +"Remember," cried Willoughby, "from whom you received the account. +Could it be an impartial one? I acknowledge that her situation and her +character ought to have been respected by me. I do not mean to justify +myself, but at the same time cannot leave you to suppose that I have +nothing to urge--that because she was injured she was irreproachable, +and because _I_ was a libertine, _she_ must be a saint. If the +violence of her passions, the weakness of her understanding--I do not +mean, however, to defend myself. Her affection for me deserved better +treatment, and I often, with great self-reproach, recall the +tenderness which, for a very short time, had the power of creating any +return. I wish--I heartily wish it had never been. But I have injured +more than herself; and I have injured one, whose affection for +me--(may I say it?) was scarcely less warm than hers; and whose +mind--Oh! how infinitely superior!" + +"Your indifference, however, towards that unfortunate girl--I must say +it, unpleasant to me as the discussion of such a subject may well +be--your indifference is no apology for your cruel neglect of her. Do +not think yourself excused by any weakness, any natural defect of +understanding on her side, in the wanton cruelty so evident on yours. +You must have known, that while you were enjoying yourself in +Devonshire pursuing fresh schemes, always gay, always happy, she was +reduced to the extremest indigence." + +"But, upon my soul, I did _not_ know it," he warmly replied; "I did +not recollect that I had omitted to give her my direction; and common +sense might have told her how to find it out." + +"Well, sir, and what said Mrs. Smith?" + +"She taxed me with the offence at once, and my confusion may be +guessed. The purity of her life, the formality of her notions, her +ignorance of the world,--every thing was against me. The matter itself +I could not deny, and vain was every endeavour to soften it. She was +previously disposed, I believe, to doubt the morality of my conduct in +general, and was moreover discontented with the very little attention, +the very little portion of my time that I had bestowed on her, in my +present visit. In short, it ended in a total breach. By one measure I +might have saved myself. In the height of her morality, good woman! +she offered to forgive the past, if I would marry Eliza. That could +not be; and I was formally dismissed from her favour and her house. +The night following this affair--I was to go the next morning--was +spent by me in deliberating on what my future conduct should be. The +struggle was great, but it ended too soon. My affection for Marianne, +my thorough conviction of her attachment to me--it was all +insufficient to outweigh that dread of poverty, or get the better of +those false ideas of the necessity of riches, which I was naturally +inclined to feel, and expensive society had increased. I had reason to +believe myself secure of my present wife, if I chose to address her, +and I persuaded myself to think that nothing else in common prudence +remained for me to do. A heavy scene however awaited me, before I +could leave Devonshire: I was engaged to dine with you on that very +day; some apology was therefore necessary for my breaking this +engagement. But whether I should write this apology, or deliver it in +person, was a point of long debate. To see Marianne, I felt, would be +dreadful, and I even doubted whether I could see her again, and keep +to my resolution. In that point, however, I undervalued my own +magnanimity, as the event declared; for I went, I saw her, and saw her +miserable, and left her miserable;--and left her hoping never to see +her again." + +"Why did you call, Mr. Willoughby?" said Elinor, reproachfully; "a +note would have answered every purpose. Why was it necessary to +call?" + +[Illustration: "_I was formally dismissed._"] + +"It was necessary to my own pride. I could not bear to leave the +country in a manner that might lead you, or the rest of the +neighbourhood, to suspect any part of what had really passed between +Mrs. Smith and myself, and I resolved therefore on calling at the +cottage, in my way to Honiton. The sight of your dear sister, however, +was really dreadful; and, to heighten the matter, I found her alone. +You were all gone I do not know where. I had left her only the evening +before, so fully, so firmly resolved within my self on doing right! A +few hours were to have engaged her to me for ever; and I remember how +happy, how gay were my spirits, as I walked from the cottage to +Allenham, satisfied with myself, delighted with every body! But in +this, our last interview of friendship, I approached her with a sense +of guilt that almost took from me the power of dissembling. Her +sorrow, her disappointment, her deep regret, when I told her that I +was obliged to leave Devonshire so immediately--I never shall forget +it--united too with such reliance, such confidence in me! Oh, God! +what a hard-hearted rascal I was!" + +They were both silent for a few moments. Elinor first spoke. + +"Did you tell her that you should soon return?" + +"I do not know what I told her," he replied, impatiently; "less than +was due to the past, beyond a doubt, and in all likelihood much more +than was justified by the future. I cannot think of it. It won't do. +Then came your dear mother to torture me farther, with all her +kindness and confidence. Thank Heaven! it _did_ torture me. I was +miserable. Miss Dashwood, you cannot have an idea of the comfort it +gives me to look back on my own misery. I owe such a grudge to myself +for the stupid, rascally folly of my own heart, that all my past +sufferings under it are only triumph and exultation to me now. Well, I +went, left all that I loved, and went to those to whom, at best, I was +only indifferent. My journey to town--travelling with my own horses, +and therefore so tediously--no creature to speak to--my own +reflections so cheerful--when I looked forward every thing so +inviting!--when I looked back at Barton, the picture so soothing!--oh, +it was a blessed journey!" + +He stopped. + +"Well, sir," said Elinor, who, though pitying him, grew impatient for +his departure, "and this is all?" + +"Ah!--no,--have you forgot what passed in town? That infamous letter? +Did she show it you?" + +"Yes, I saw every note that passed." + +"When the first of hers reached me (as it immediately did, for I was +in town the whole time,) what I felt is, in the common phrase, not to +be expressed; in a more simple one--perhaps too simple to raise any +emotion, my feelings were very, very painful. Every line, every word +was--in the hackneyed metaphor which their dear writer, were she here, +would forbid--a dagger to my heart. To know that Marianne was in town +was, in the same language, a thunderbolt. Thunderbolts and daggers! +what a reproof would she have given me! her taste, her opinions--I +believe they are better known to me than my own, and I am sure they +are dearer." + +Elinor's heart, which had undergone many changes in the course of this +extraordinary conversation, was now softened again;--yet she felt it +her duty to check such ideas in her companion as the last. + +"This is not right, Mr. Willoughby. Remember that you are married. +Relate only what in your conscience you think necessary for me to +hear." + +"Marianne's note, by assuring me that I was still as dear to her as in +former days, that in spite of the many, many weeks we had been +separated, she was as constant in her own feelings, and as full of +faith in the constancy of mine as ever, awakened all my remorse. I say +awakened, because time and London, business and dissipation, had in +some measure quieted it, and I had been growing a fine hardened +villain, fancying myself indifferent to her, and choosing to fancy +that she too must have become indifferent to me; talking to myself of +our past attachment as a mere idle, trifling business, shrugging up my +shoulders in proof of its being so, and silencing every reproach, +overcoming every scruple, by secretly saying now and then, 'I shall be +heartily glad to hear she is well married.' But this note made me know +myself better. I felt that she was infinitely dearer to me than any +other woman in the world, and that I was using her infamously. But +every thing was then just settled between Miss Grey and me. To retreat +was impossible. All that I had to do, was to avoid you both. I sent no +answer to Marianne, intending by that to preserve myself from her +farther notice; and for some time I was even determined not to call +in Berkeley Street; but at last, judging it wiser to affect the air of +a cool, common acquaintance than anything else, I watched you all +safely out of the house one morning, and left my name." + +"Watched us out of the house!" + +"Even so. You would be surprised to hear how often I watched you, how +often I was on the point of falling in with you. I have entered many a +shop to avoid your sight, as the carriage drove by. Lodging as I did +in Bond Street, there was hardly a day in which I did not catch a +glimpse of one or other of you; and nothing but the most constant +watchfulness on my side, a most invariably prevailing desire to keep +out of your sight, could have separated us so long. I avoided the +Middletons as much as possible, as well as everybody else who was +likely to prove an acquaintance in common. Not aware of their being in +town, however, I blundered on Sir John, I believe, the first day of +his coming, and the day after I had called at Mrs. Jennings's. He +asked me to a party, a dance at his house in the evening. Had he _not_ +told me as an inducement that you and your sister were to be there, I +should have felt it too certain a thing, to trust myself near him. The +next morning brought another short note from Marianne--still +affectionate, open, artless, confiding--everything that could make +_my_ conduct most hateful. I could not answer it. I tried--but could +not frame a sentence. But I thought of her, I believe, every moment of +the day. If you _can_ pity me, Miss Dashwood, pity my situation as it +was _then._ With my head and heart full of your sister, I was forced +to play the happy lover to another woman! Those three or four weeks +were worse than all. Well, at last, as I need not tell you, you were +forced on me; and what a sweet figure I cut! what an evening of agony +it was! Marianne, beautiful as an angel on one side, calling me +Willoughby in such a tone! Oh, God! holding out her hand to me, asking +me for an explanation, with those bewitching eyes fixed in such +speaking solicitude on my face! and Sophia, jealous as the devil on +the other hand, looking all that was--Well, it does not signify; it is +over now. Such an evening! I ran away from you all as soon as I could; +but not before I had seen Marianne's sweet face as white as death. +_That_ was the last, last look I ever had of her; the last manner in +which she appeared to me. It was a horrid sight! yet when I thought +of her to-day as really dying, it was a kind of comfort to me to +imagine that I knew exactly how she would appear to those, who saw her +last in this world. She was before me, constantly before me, as I +travelled, in the same look and hue." + +[Illustration: "_I have entered many a shop to avoid your sight._"] + +A short pause of mutual thoughtfulness succeeded. Willoughby first +rousing himself, broke it thus: + +"Well, let me make haste and be gone. Your sister is certainly better, +certainly out of danger?" + +"We are assured of it." + +"Your poor mother, too!--doting on Marianne." + +"But the letter, Mr. Willoughby, your own letter; have you any thing +to say about that?" + +"Yes, yes, _that_ in particular. Your sister wrote to me again, you +know, the very next morning. You saw what she said. I was breakfasting +at the Ellisons,--and her letter, with some others, was brought to me +there from my lodgings. It happened to catch Sophia's eye before it +caught mine;--and its size, the elegance of the paper, the hand-writing +altogether, immediately gave her a suspicion. Some vague report had +reached her before of my attachment to some young lady in Devonshire, +and what had passed within her observation the preceding evening had +marked who the young lady was, and made her more jealous than ever. +Affecting that air of playfulness, therefore, which is delightful in a +woman one loves, she opened the letter directly, and read its contents. +She was well paid for her impudence. She read what made her wretched. +Her wretchedness I could have borne, but her passion--her malice--at all +events it must be appeased. And, in short, what do you think of my +wife's style of letter-writing?--delicate--tender--truly feminine--was +it not?" + +"Your wife! The letter was in your own hand-writing." + +"Yes, but I had only the credit of servilely copying such sentences as +I was ashamed to put my name to. The original was all her own--her own +happy thoughts and gentle diction. But what could I do! we were +engaged, every thing in preparation, the day almost fixed--but I am +talking like a fool. Preparation! Day! In honest words, her money was +necessary to me, and in a situation like mine, any thing was to be +done to prevent a rupture. And after all, what did it signify to my +character in the opinion of Marianne and her friends, in what +language my answer was couched? It must have been only to one end. My +business was to declare myself a scoundrel, and whether I did it with +a bow or a bluster was of little importance. 'I am ruined for ever in +their opinion,' said I to myself; 'I am shut out for ever from their +society, they already think me an unprincipled fellow, this letter +will only make them think me a blackguard one.' Such were my +reasonings, as, in a sort of desperate carelessness, I copied my +wife's words, and parted with the last relics of Marianne. Her three +notes--unluckily they were all in my pocket-book, or I should have +denied their existence, and hoarded them for ever--I was forced to put +them up, and could not even kiss them. And the lock of hair--that too +I had always carried about me in the same pocket-book, which was now +searched by Madam with the most ingratiating virulence,--the dear +lock--all, every memento was torn from me." + +"You are very wrong, Mr. Willoughby, very blamable," said Elinor, +while her voice, in spite of herself, betrayed her compassionate +emotion; "you ought not to speak in this way, either of Mrs. +Willoughby or my sister. You had made your own choice. It was not +forced on you. Your wife has a claim to your politeness, to your +respect, at least. She must be attached to you, or she would not have +married you. To treat her with unkindness, to speak of her slightingly +is no atonement to Marianne--nor can I suppose it a relief to your own +conscience." + +"Do not talk to me of my wife," said he with a heavy sigh. "She does +not deserve your compassion. She knew I had no regard for her when we +married. Well, married we were, and came down to Combe Magna to be +happy, and afterwards returned to town to be gay. And now do you pity +me, Miss Dashwood? or have I said all this to no purpose? Am I,--be +it only one degree,--am I less guilty in your opinion than I was +before? My intentions were not always wrong. Have I explained away any +part of my guilt?" + +"Yes, you have certainly removed something--a little. You have proved +yourself, on the whole, less faulty than I had believed you. You have +proved your heart less wicked, much less wicked. But I hardly +know--the misery that you have inflicted--I hardly know what could +have made it worse." + +"Will you repeat to your sister when she is recovered, what I have +been telling you?--Let me be a little lightened too in her opinion as +well as in yours. You tell me that she has forgiven me already. Let me +be able to fancy that a better knowledge of my heart, and of my +present feelings, will draw from her a more spontaneous, more natural, +more gentle, less dignified, forgiveness. Tell her of my misery and my +penitence--tell her that my heart was never inconstant to her, and if +you will, that at this moment she is dearer to me than ever." + +"I will tell her all that is necessary to what may comparatively be +called, your justification. But you have not explained to me the +particular reason of your coming now, nor how you heard of her +illness." + +"Last night, in Drury Lane lobby, I ran against Sir John Middleton, +and when he saw who I was, for the first time these two months--he +spoke to me. That he had cut me ever since my marriage, I had seen +without surprise or resentment. Now, however, his good-natured, +honest, stupid soul, full of indignation against me, and concern for +your sister, could not resist the temptation of telling me what he +knew ought to, though probably he did not think it _would_, vex me +horridly. As bluntly as he could speak it, therefore, he told me that +Marianne Dashwood was dying of a putrid fever at Cleveland--a letter +that morning received from Mrs. Jennings declared her danger most +imminent--the Palmers are all gone off in a fright, &c. I was too much +shocked to be able to pass myself off as insensible even to the +undiscerning Sir John. His heart was softened in seeing mine suffer; +and so much of his ill-will was done away, that when we parted, he +almost shook me by the hand while he reminded me of an old promise +about a pointer puppy. What I felt on hearing that your sister was +dying, and dying too, believing me the greatest villain upon earth, +scorning, hating me in her latest moments--for how could I tell what +horrid projects might not have been imputed? _One_ person I was sure +would represent me as capable of any thing. What I felt was dreadful! +My resolution was soon made, and at eight o'clock this morning I was +in my carriage. Now you know all." + +Elinor made no answer. Her thoughts were silently fixed on the +irreparable injury which too early an independence and its consequent +habits of idleness, dissipation, and luxury, had made in the mind, the +character, the happiness, of a man who, to every advantage of person +and talents, united a disposition naturally open and honest, and a +feeling, affectionate temper. The world had made him extravagant and +vain--Extravagance and vanity had made him cold-hearted and selfish. +Vanity, while seeking its own guilty triumph at the expense of +another, had involved him in a real attachment, which extravagance, or +at least its offspring, necessity, had required to be sacrificed. Each +faulty propensity in leading him to evil, had led him likewise to +punishment. The attachment, from which against honour, against +feeling, against every better interest he had outwardly torn himself, +now, when no longer allowable, governed every thought; and the +connection, for the sake of which he had, with little scruple, left +her sister to misery, was likely to prove a source of unhappiness to +himself of a far more incurable nature. From a reverie of this kind +she was recalled at the end of some minutes by Willoughby, who, +rousing himself from a reverie at least equally painful, started up in +preparation for going, and said-- + +"There is no use in staying here; I must be off." + +"Are you going back to town?" + +"No--to Combe Magna. I have business there; from thence to town in a +day or two. Good bye." + +He held out his hand. She could not refuse to give him hers;--he +pressed it with affection. + +"And you _do_ think something better of me than you did?"--said he, +letting it fall, and leaning against the mantelpiece as if forgetting +he was to go. + +Elinor assured him that she did;--that she forgave, pitied, wished him +well--was even interested in his happiness--and added some gentle +counsel as to the behaviour most likely to promote it. His answer was +not very encouraging. + +"As to that," said he, "I must rub through the world as well as I can. +Domestic happiness is out of the question. If, however, I am allowed +to think that you and yours feel an interest in my fate and actions, +it may be the means--it may put me on my guard--at least, it may be +something to live for. Marianne to be sure is lost to me for ever. +Were I even by any blessed chance at liberty again--" + +Elinor stopped him with a reproof. + +"Well,"--he replied--"once more good bye. I shall now go away and live +in dread of one event." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Your sister's marriage." + +"You are very wrong. She can never be more lost to you than she is +now." + +"But she will be gained by some one else. And if that some one should +be the very he whom, of all others, I could least bear--but I will not +stay to rob myself of all your compassionate good-will, by showing that +where I have most injured I can least forgive. Good bye,--God bless +you!" + +And with these words, he almost ran out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + + +Elinor, for some time after he left her, for some time even after the +sound of his carriage had died away, remained too much oppressed by a +crowd of ideas, widely differing in themselves, but of which sadness +was the general result, to think even of her sister. + +Willoughby, he, whom only half an hour ago she had abhorred as the +most worthless of men, Willoughby, in spite of all his faults, excited +a degree of commiseration for the sufferings produced by them, which +made her think of him as now separated for ever from her family, with +a tenderness, a regret, rather in proportion, as she soon acknowledged +within herself--to his wishes than to his merits. She felt that his +influence over her mind was heightened by circumstances which ought +not in reason to have weight; by that person of uncommon attraction, +that open, affectionate, and lively manner which it was no merit to +possess; and by that still ardent love for Marianne, which it was not +even innocent to indulge. But she felt that it was so, long, long +before she could feel his influence less. + +When at last she returned to the unconscious Marianne, she found her +just awaking, refreshed by so long and sweet a sleep to the extent of +her hopes. Elinor's heart was full. The past, the present, the future, +Willoughby's visit, Marianne's safety, and her mother's expected +arrival, threw her altogether into an agitation of spirits which kept +off every indication of fatigue, and made her only fearful of +betraying herself to her sister. Short was the time, however, in which +that fear could affect her, for within half an hour after Willoughby's +leaving the house, she was again called down stairs by the sound of +another carriage. Eager to save her mother from every unnecessary +moment's horrible suspense, she ran immediately into the hall, and +reached the outward door just in time to receive and support her as +she entered it. + +Mrs. Dashwood, whose terror as they drew near the house had produced +almost the conviction of Marianne's being no more, had no voice to +inquire after her, no voice even for Elinor; but _she_, waiting +neither for salutation nor inquiry, instantly gave the joyful relief; +and her mother, catching it with all her usual warmth, was in a moment +as much overcome by her happiness, as she had been before by her +fears. She was supported into the drawing-room between her daughter +and her friend; and there, shedding tears of joy, though still unable +to speak, embraced Elinor again and again, turning from her at +intervals to press Colonel Brandon's hand, with a look which spoke at +once her gratitude, and her conviction of his sharing with herself in +the bliss of the moment. He shared it, however, in a silence even +greater than her own. + +As soon as Mrs. Dashwood had recovered herself, to see Marianne was +her first desire; and in two minutes she was with her beloved child, +rendered dearer to her than ever by absence, unhappiness, and danger. +Elinor's delight, as she saw what each felt in the meeting, was only +checked by an apprehension of its robbing Marianne of farther +sleep;--but Mrs. Dashwood could be calm, could be even prudent, when +the life of a child was at stake, and Marianne, satisfied in knowing +her mother was near her, and conscious of being too weak for +conversation, submitted readily to the silence and quiet prescribed by +every nurse around her. Mrs. Dashwood _would_ sit up with her all +night; and Elinor, in compliance with her mother's entreaty, went to +bed. But the rest, which one night entirely sleepless, and many hours +of the most wearing anxiety seemed to make requisite, was kept off by +irritation of spirits. Willoughby, "poor Willoughby," as she now +allowed herself to call him, was constantly in her thoughts; she would +not but have heard his vindication for the world, and now blamed, now +acquitted herself for having judged him so harshly before. But her +promise of relating it to her sister was invariably painful. She +dreaded the performance of it, dreaded what its effect on Marianne +might be; doubted whether after such an explanation she could ever be +happy with another; and for a moment wished Willoughby a widower. +Then, remembering Colonel Brandon, reproved herself, felt that to +_his_ sufferings and _his_ constancy far more than to his rival's, the +reward of her sister was due, and wished any thing rather than Mrs. +Willoughby's death. + +The shock of Colonel Brandon's errand at Barton had been much softened +to Mrs. Dashwood by her own previous alarm; for so great was her +uneasiness about Marianne, that she had already determined to set out +for Cleveland on that very day, without waiting for any further +intelligence, and had so far settled her journey before his arrival, +that the Careys were then expected every moment to fetch Margaret +away, as her mother was unwilling to take her where there might be +infection. + +Marianne continued to mend every day, and the brilliant cheerfulness +of Mrs. Dashwood's looks and spirits proved her to be, as she +repeatedly declared herself, one of the happiest women in the world. +Elinor could not hear the declaration, nor witness its proofs without +sometimes wondering whether her mother ever recollected Edward. But +Mrs. Dashwood, trusting to the temperate account of her own +disappointment which Elinor had sent her, was led away by the +exuberance of her joy to think only of what would increase it. +Marianne was restored to her from a danger in which, as she now began +to feel, her own mistaken judgment in encouraging the unfortunate +attachment to Willoughby, had contributed to place her; and in her +recovery she had yet another source of joy unthought of by Elinor. It +was thus imparted to her, as soon as any opportunity of private +conference between them occurred. + +"At last we are alone. My Elinor, you do not yet know all my +happiness. Colonel Brandon loves Marianne. He has told me so himself." + +Her daughter, feeling by turns both pleased and pained, surprised and +not surprised, was all silent attention. + +"You are never like me, dear Elinor, or I should wonder at your +composure now. Had I sat down to wish for any possible good to my +family, I should have fixed on Colonel Brandon's marrying one of you +as the object most desirable. And I believe Marianne will be the most +happy with him of the two." + +Elinor was half inclined to ask her reason for thinking so, because +satisfied that none founded on an impartial consideration of their +age, characters, or feelings, could be given;--but her mother must +always be carried away by her imagination on any interesting subject, +and therefore instead of an inquiry, she passed it off with a smile. + +"He opened his whole heart to me yesterday as we travelled. It came +out quite unawares, quite undesignedly. I, you may well believe, could +talk of nothing but my child;--he could not conceal his distress; I +saw that it equalled my own, and he perhaps, thinking that mere +friendship, as the world now goes, would not justify so warm a +sympathy--or rather, not thinking at all, I suppose--giving way to +irresistible feelings, made me acquainted with his earnest, tender, +constant, affection for Marianne. He has loved her, my Elinor, ever +since the first moment of seeing her." + +Here, however, Elinor perceived,--not the language, not the +professions of Colonel Brandon, but the natural embellishments of her +mother's active fancy, which fashioned every thing delightful to her +as it chose. + +"His regard for her, infinitely surpassing anything that Willoughby +ever felt or feigned, as much more warm, as more sincere or constant, +which ever we are to call it, has subsisted through all the knowledge +of dear Marianne's unhappy prepossession for that worthless young man! +and without selfishness, without encouraging a hope! could he have +seen her happy with another. Such a noble mind! such openness, such +sincerity! No one can be deceived in _him._" + +"Colonel Brandon's character," said Elinor, "as an excellent man, is +well established." + +"I know it is," replied her mother seriously, "or after such a +warning, I should be the last to encourage such affection, or even to +be pleased by it. But his coming for me as he did, with such active, +such ready friendship, is enough to prove him one of the worthiest of +men." + +"His character, however," answered Elinor, "does not rest on _one_ act +of kindness, to which his affection for Marianne, were humanity out of +the case, would have prompted him. To Mrs. Jennings, to the +Middletons, he has been long and intimately known; they equally love +and respect him; and even my own knowledge of him, though lately +acquired, is very considerable; and so highly do I value and esteem +him, that if Marianne can be happy with him, I shall be as ready as +yourself to think our connection the greatest blessing to us in the +world. What answer did you give him? Did you allow him to hope?" + +"Oh! my love, I could not then talk of hope to him or to myself. +Marianne might at that moment be dying. But he did not ask for hope or +encouragement. His was an involuntary confidence, an irrepressible +effusion to a soothing friend, not an application to a parent. Yet +after a time I _did_ say, for at first I was quite overcome, that if +she lived, as I trusted she might, my greatest happiness would lie in +promoting their marriage; and since our arrival, since our delightful +security, I have repeated it to him more fully, have given him every +encouragement in my power. Time, a very little time, I tell him, will +do everything; Marianne's heart is not to be wasted for ever on such a +man as Willoughby. His own merits must soon secure it." + +"To judge from the Colonel's spirits, however, you have not yet made +him equally sanguine." + +"No. He thinks Marianne's affection too deeply rooted for any change +in it under a great length of time, and even supposing her heart again +free, is too diffident of himself to believe, that with such a +difference of age and disposition he could ever attach her. There, +however, he is quite mistaken. His age is only so much beyond hers as +to be an advantage, as to make his character and principles +fixed;--and his disposition, I am well convinced, is exactly the very +one to make your sister happy. And his person, his manners too, are +all in his favour. My partiality does not blind me; he certainly is +not so handsome as Willoughby--but at the same time, there is +something much more pleasing in his countenance. There was always a +something,--if you remember,--in Willoughby's eyes at times, which I +did not like." + +Elinor could _not_ remember it;--but her mother, without waiting for +her assent, continued-- + +"And his manners, the Colonel's manners are not only more pleasing to +me than Willoughby's ever were, but they are of a kind I well know to +be more solidly attaching to Marianne. Their gentleness, their +genuine attention to other people, and their manly unstudied +simplicity is much more accordant with her real disposition, than the +liveliness--often artificial, and often ill-timed of the other. I am +very sure myself, that had Willoughby turned out as really amiable, as +he has proved himself the contrary, Marianne would yet never have been +so happy with _him_ as she will be with Colonel Brandon." + +She paused. Her daughter could not quite agree with her, but her +dissent was not heard, and therefore gave no offence. + +"At Delaford, she will be within an easy distance of me," added Mrs. +Dashwood, "even if I remain at Barton; and in all probability,--for I +hear it is a large village,--indeed there certainly _must_ be some +small house or cottage close by, that would suit us quite as well as +our present situation." + +Poor Elinor!--here was a new scheme for getting her to Delaford!--but +her spirit was stubborn. + +"His fortune too!--for at my time of life you know, everybody cares +about _that_;--and though I neither know nor desire to know, what it +really is, I am sure it must be a good one." + +Here they were interrupted by the entrance of a third person, and +Elinor withdrew to think it all over in private, to wish success to +her friend, and yet in wishing it, to feel a pang for Willoughby. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI + + +Marianne's illness, though weakening in its kind, had not been long +enough to make her recovery slow; and with youth, natural strength, +and her mother's presence in aid, it proceeded so smoothly as to +enable her to remove, within four days after the arrival of the +latter, into Mrs. Palmer's dressing-room. When there, at her own +particular request, for she was impatient to pour forth her thanks to +him for fetching her mother, Colonel Brandon was invited to visit her. + +His emotion on entering the room, in seeing her altered looks, and in +receiving the pale hand which she immediately held out to him, was +such, as, in Elinor's conjecture, must arise from something more than +his affection for Marianne, or the consciousness of its being known to +others; and she soon discovered in his melancholy eye and varying +complexion as he looked at her sister, the probable recurrence of many +past scenes of misery to his mind, brought back by that resemblance +between Marianne and Eliza already acknowledged, and now strengthened +by the hollow eye, the sickly skin, the posture of reclining weakness, +and the warm acknowledgment of peculiar obligation. + +Mrs. Dashwood, not less watchful of what passed than her daughter, but +with a mind very differently influenced, and therefore watching to +very different effect, saw nothing in the Colonel's behaviour but what +arose from the most simple and self-evident sensations, while in the +actions and words of Marianne she persuaded herself to think that +something more than gratitude already dawned. + +At the end of another day or two, Marianne growing visibly stronger +every twelve hours, Mrs. Dashwood, urged equally by her own and her +daughter's wishes, began to talk of removing to Barton. On _her_ +measures depended those of her two friends; Mrs. Jennings could not +quit Cleveland during the Dashwoods' stay; and Colonel Brandon was +soon brought, by their united request, to consider his own abode there +as equally determinate, if not equally indispensable. At his and Mrs. +Jennings's united request in return, Mrs. Dashwood was prevailed on to +accept the use of his carriage on her journey back, for the better +accommodation of her sick child; and the Colonel, at the joint +invitation of Mrs. Dashwood and Mrs. Jennings, whose active +good-nature made her friendly and hospitable for other people as well +as herself, engaged with pleasure to redeem it by a visit at the +cottage, in the course of a few weeks. + +The day of separation and departure arrived; and Marianne, after +taking so particular and lengthened a leave of Mrs. Jennings, one so +earnestly grateful, so full of respect and kind wishes as seemed due +to her own heart from a secret acknowledgment of past inattention, and +bidding Colonel Brandon farewell with a cordiality of a friend, was +carefully assisted by him into the carriage, of which he seemed +anxious that she should engross at least half. Mrs. Dashwood and +Elinor then followed, and the others were left by themselves, to talk +of the travellers, and feel their own dullness, till Mrs. Jennings +was summoned to her chaise to take comfort in the gossip of her maid +for the loss of her two young companions; and Colonel Brandon +immediately afterwards took his solitary way to Delaford. + +The Dashwoods were two days on the road, and Marianne bore her journey +on both, without essential fatigue. Every thing that the most zealous +affection, the most solicitous care could do to render her +comfortable, was the office of each watchful companion, and each found +their reward in her bodily ease, and her calmness of spirits. To +Elinor, the observation of the latter was particularly grateful. She, +who had seen her week after week so constantly suffering, oppressed by +anguish of heart which she had neither courage to speak of, nor +fortitude to conceal, now saw with a joy, which no other could equally +share, an apparent composure of mind, which, in being the result as +she trusted of serious reflection, must eventually lead her to +contentment and cheerfulness. + +As they approached Barton, indeed, and entered on scenes of which +every field and every tree brought some peculiar, some painful +recollection, she grew silent and thoughtful, and turning away her +face from their notice, sat earnestly gazing through the window. But +here, Elinor could neither wonder nor blame; and when she saw, as she +assisted Marianne from the carriage, that she had been crying, she saw +only an emotion too natural in itself to raise any thing less tender +than pity, and in its unobtrusiveness entitled to praise. In the whole +of her subsequent manner, she traced the direction of a mind awakened +to reasonable exertion; for no sooner had they entered their common +sitting-room, than Marianne turned her eyes around it with a look of +resolute firmness, as if determined at once to accustom herself to the +sight of every object with which the remembrance of Willoughby could +be connected. She said little, but every sentence aimed at +cheerfulness, and though a sigh sometimes escaped her, it never passed +away without the atonement of a smile. After dinner she would try her +piano-forte. She went to it; but the music on which her eye first +rested was an opera, procured for her by Willoughby, containing some +of their favourite duets, and bearing on its outward leaf her own name +in his hand-writing. That would not do. She shook her head, put the +music aside, and after running over the keys for a minute, complained +of feebleness in her fingers, and closed the instrument again; +declaring however with firmness as she did so, that she should in +future practice much. + +The next morning produced no abatement in these happy symptoms. On the +contrary, with a mind and body alike strengthened by rest, she looked +and spoke with more genuine spirit, anticipating the pleasure of +Margaret's return, and talking of the dear family party which would +then be restored, of their mutual pursuits and cheerful society, as +the only happiness worth a wish. + +"When the weather is settled, and I have recovered my strength," said +she, "we will take long walks together every day. We will walk to the +farm at the edge of the down, and see how the children go on; we will +walk to Sir John's new plantations at Barton Cross, and the Abbeyland; +and we will often go the old ruins of the Priory, and try to trace its +foundations as far as we are told they once reached. I know we shall +be happy. I know the summer will pass happily away. I mean never to be +later in rising than six, and from that time till dinner I shall +divide every moment between music and reading. I have formed my plan, +and am determined to enter on a course of serious study. Our own +library is too well known to me, to be resorted to for any thing +beyond mere amusement. But there are many works well worth reading at +the Park; and there are others of more modern production which I know +I can borrow of Colonel Brandon. By reading only six hours a-day, I +shall gain in the course of a twelvemonth a great deal of instruction +which I now feel myself to want." + +Elinor honoured her for a plan which originated so nobly as this; +though smiling to see the same eager fancy which had been leading her +to the extreme of languid indolence and selfish repining, now at work +in introducing excess into a scheme of such rational employment and +virtuous self-control. Her smile however changed to a sigh when she +remembered that promise to Willoughby was yet unfulfilled, and feared +she had that to communicate which might again unsettle the mind of +Marianne, and ruin at least for a time this fair prospect of busy +tranquillity. Willing therefore to delay the evil hour, she resolved +to wait till her sister's health were more secure, before she +appointed it. But the resolution was made only to be broken. + +[Illustration: "_And see how the children go on._"] + +Marianne had been two or three days at home, before the weather was +fine enough for an invalid like herself to venture out. But at last a +soft, genial morning appeared; such as might tempt the daughter's +wishes and the mother's confidence; and Marianne, leaning on Elinor's +arm, was authorised to walk as long as she could without fatigue, in +the lane before the house. + +The sisters set out at a pace, slow as the feebleness of Marianne in +an exercise hitherto untried since her illness required;--and they had +advanced only so far beyond the house as to admit a full view of the +hill, the important hill behind, when pausing with her eyes turned +towards it, Marianne calmly said-- + +"There, exactly there,"--pointing with one hand, "on that projecting +mound,--there I fell; and there I first saw Willoughby." + +Her voice sunk with the word, but presently reviving she added, + +"I am thankful to find that I can look with so little pain on the +spot! shall we ever talk on that subject, Elinor?" hesitatingly it was +said. "Or will it be wrong? I can talk of it now, I hope, as I ought +to do." + +Elinor tenderly invited her to be open. + +"As for regret," said Marianne, "I have done with that, as far as _he_ +is concerned. I do not mean to talk to you of what my feelings have +been for him, but what they are _now._ At present, if I could be +satisfied on one point, if I could be allowed to think that he was not +_always_ acting a part, not _always_ deceiving me; but above all, if I +could be assured that he never was so _very_ wicked as my fears have +sometimes fancied him, since the story of that unfortunate girl--" + +She stopped. Elinor joyfully treasured her words as she answered-- + +"If you could be assured of that, you think you should be easy." + +"Yes. My peace of mind is doubly involved in it; for not only is it +horrible to suspect a person, who has been what _he_ has been to _me_, +of such designs, but what must it make me appear to myself? What in a +situation like mine, but a most shamefully unguarded affection could +expose me to--" + +"How then," asked her sister, "would you account for his behaviour?" + +"I would suppose him--Oh, how gladly would I suppose him!--only +fickle, very, very fickle." + +Elinor said no more. She was debating within herself on the +eligibility of beginning her story directly, or postponing it till +Marianne were in stronger health; and they crept on for a few minutes +in silence. + +"I am not wishing him too much good," said Marianne at last with a +sigh, "when I wish his secret reflections may be no more unpleasant +than my own. He will suffer enough in them." + +"Do you compare your conduct with his?" + +"No. I compare it with what it ought to have been; I compare it with +yours." + +"Our situations have borne little resemblance." + +"They have borne more than our conduct. Do not, my dearest Elinor, let +your kindness defend what I know your judgment must censure. My illness +has made me think. It has given me leisure and calmness for serious +recollection. Long before I was enough recovered to talk, I was +perfectly able to reflect. I considered the past: I saw in my own +behaviour, since the beginning of our acquaintance with him last autumn, +nothing but a series of imprudence towards myself, and want of kindness +to others. I saw that my own feelings had prepared my sufferings, and +that my want of fortitude under them had almost led me to the grave. My +illness, I well knew, had been entirely brought on by myself by such +negligence of my own health, as I had felt even at the time to be wrong. +Had I died, it would have been self-destruction. I did not know my +danger till the danger was removed; but with such feelings as these +reflections gave me, I wonder at my recovery,--wonder that the very +eagerness of my desire to live, to have time for atonement to my God, +and to you all, did not kill me at once. Had I died, in what peculiar +misery should I have left you, my nurse, my friend, my sister! You, who +had seen all the fretful selfishness of my latter days; who had known +all the murmurings of my heart! How should I have lived in _your_ +remembrance! My mother too! How could you have consoled her! I cannot +express my own abhorrence of myself. Whenever I looked towards the past, +I saw some duty neglected, or some failing indulged. Every body seemed +injured by me. The kindness, the unceasing kindness of Mrs. Jennings, I +had repaid with ungrateful contempt. To the Middletons, to the Palmers, +the Steeles, to every common acquaintance even, I had been insolent and +unjust; with a heart hardened against their merits, and a temper +irritated by their very attention. To John, to Fanny, yes, even to them, +little as they deserve, I had given less than their due. But you, you +above all, above my mother, had been wronged by me. I, and only I, knew +your heart and its sorrows; yet to what did it influence me?--not to any +compassion that could benefit you or myself. Your example was before me; +but to what avail? Was I more considerate of you and your comfort? Did I +imitate your forbearance, or lessen your restraints, by taking any part +in those offices of general complaisance or particular gratitude which +you had hitherto been left to discharge alone? No; not less when I knew +you to be unhappy, than when I had believed you at ease, did I turn away +from every exertion of duty or friendship; scarcely allowing sorrow to +exist but with me, regretting only _that_ heart which had deserted and +wronged me, and leaving you, for I professed an unbounded affection, to +be miserable for my sake." + +Here ceased the rapid flow of her self-reproving spirit; and Elinor, +impatient to soothe, though too honest to flatter, gave her instantly +that praise and support which her frankness and her contrition so well +deserved. Marianne pressed her hand and replied-- + +"You are very good. The future must be my proof. I have laid down my +plan, and if I am capable of adhering to it--my feelings shall be +governed and my temper improved. They shall no longer worry others, +nor torture myself. I shall now live solely for my family. You, my +mother, and Margaret, must henceforth be all the world to me; you will +share my affections entirely between you. From you, from my home, I +shall never again have the smallest incitement to move; and if I do +mix in other society, it will be only to show that my spirit is +humbled, my heart amended, and that I can practise the civilities, the +lesser duties of life, with gentleness and forbearance. As for +Willoughby--to say that I shall soon or that I shall ever forget him, +would be idle. His remembrance can be overcome by no change of +circumstances or opinions. But it shall be regulated, it shall be +checked by religion, by reason, by constant employment." + +She paused--and added in a low voice, "If I could but know _his_ +heart, everything would become easy." + +Elinor, who had now been for some time reflecting on the propriety or +impropriety of speedily hazarding her narration, without feeling at +all nearer decision than at first, heard this; and perceiving that as +reflection did nothing, resolution must do all, soon found herself +leading to the fact. + +She managed the recital, as she hoped, with address; prepared her +anxious listener with caution; related simply and honestly the chief +points on which Willoughby grounded his apology; did justice to his +repentance, and softened only his protestations of present regard. +Marianne said not a word. She trembled, her eyes were fixed on the +ground, and her lips became whiter than even sickness had left them. A +thousand inquiries sprung up from her heart, but she dared not urge +one. She caught every syllable with panting eagerness; her hand, +unknowingly to herself, closely pressed her sister's, and tears +covered her cheeks. + +Elinor, dreading her being tired, led her towards home; and till they +reached the door of the cottage, easily conjecturing what her +curiosity must be though no question was suffered to speak it, talked +of nothing but Willoughby, and their conversation together; and was +carefully minute in every particular of speech and look, where +minuteness could be safely indulged. As soon as they entered the +house, Marianne with a kiss of gratitude and these two words just +articulate through her tears, "Tell mama," withdrew from her sister +and walked slowly up stairs. Elinor would not attempt to disturb a +solitude so reasonable as what she now sought; and with a mind +anxiously pre-arranging its result, and a resolution of reviving the +subject again, should Marianne fail to do it, she turned into the +parlour to fulfill her parting injunction. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII + + +Mrs. Dashwood did not hear unmoved the vindication of her former +favourite. She rejoiced in his being cleared from some part of his +imputed guilt;--she was sorry for him;--she wished him happy. But the +feelings of the past could not be recalled. Nothing could restore him +with a faith unbroken--a character unblemished, to Marianne. Nothing +could do away the knowledge of what the latter had suffered through +his means, nor remove the guilt of his conduct towards Eliza. Nothing +could replace him, therefore, in her former esteem, nor injure the +interests of Colonel Brandon. + +Had Mrs. Dashwood, like her daughter, heard Willoughby's story from +himself,--had she witnessed his distress, and been under the influence +of his countenance and his manner, it is probable that her compassion +would have been greater. But it was neither in Elinor's power, nor in +her wish, to rouse such feelings in another, by her retailed +explanation, as had at first been called forth in herself. Reflection +had given calmness to her judgment, and sobered her own opinion of +Willoughby's deserts; she wished, therefore, to declare only the +simple truth, and lay open such facts as were really due to his +character, without any embellishment of tenderness to lead the fancy +astray. + +In the evening, when they were all three together, Marianne began +voluntarily to speak of him again; but that it was not without an +effort, the restless, unquiet thoughtfulness in which she had been for +some time previously sitting, her rising colour, as she spoke, and her +unsteady voice, plainly showed. + +"I wish to assure you both," said she, "that I see every thing--as you +can desire me to do." + +Mrs. Dashwood would have interrupted her instantly with soothing +tenderness, had not Elinor, who really wished to hear her sister's +unbiased opinion, by an eager sign, engaged her silence. Marianne +slowly continued-- + +"It is a great relief to me--what Elinor told me this morning--I have +now heard exactly what I wished to hear."--For some moments her voice +was lost; but recovering herself, she added, and with greater calmness +than before--"I am now perfectly satisfied, I wish for no change. I +never could have been happy with him, after knowing, as sooner or +later I must have known, all this. I should have had no confidence, no +esteem. Nothing could have done it away to my feelings." + +"I know it--I know it," cried her mother. "Happy with a man of +libertine practices!--With one who so injured the peace of the dearest +of our friends, and the best of men!--No--my Marianne has not a heart +to be made happy with such a man!--Her conscience, her sensitive +conscience, would have felt all that the conscience of her husband +ought to have felt." + +Marianne sighed, and repeated, "I wish for no change." + +"You consider the matter," said Elinor, "exactly as a good mind and a +sound understanding must consider it; and I dare say you perceive, as +well as myself, not only in this, but in many other circumstances, +reason enough to be convinced that your marriage must have involved +you in many certain troubles and disappointments, in which you would +have been poorly supported by an affection, on his side, much less +certain. Had you married, you must have been always poor. His +expensiveness is acknowledged even by himself, and his whole conduct +declares that self-denial is a word hardly understood by him. His +demands and your inexperience together, on a small, very small income, +must have brought on distresses which would not be the _less_ grievous +to you, from having been entirely unknown and unthought of before. +_Your_ sense of honour and honesty would have led you, I know, when +aware of your situation, to attempt all the economy that would appear +to you possible: and, perhaps, as long as your frugality retrenched +only on your own comfort, you might have been suffered to practice it, +but beyond that--and how little could the utmost of your single +management do to stop the ruin which had begun before your marriage? +beyond _that_, had you endeavoured, however reasonably, to abridge +_his_ enjoyments, is it not to be feared, that instead of prevailing +on feelings so selfish to consent to it, you would have lessened your +own influence on his heart, and made him regret the connection which +had involved him in such difficulties?" + +Marianne's lips quivered, and she repeated the word "Selfish?" in a +tone that implied, "do you really think him selfish?" + +"The whole of his behaviour," replied Elinor, "from the beginning to +the end of the affair, has been grounded on selfishness. It was +selfishness which first made him sport with your affections; which +afterwards, when his own were engaged, made him delay the confession +of it, and which finally carried him from Barton. His own enjoyment, +or his own ease, was, in every particular, his ruling principle." + +"It is very true. _My_ happiness never was his object." + +"At present," continued Elinor, "he regrets what he has done. And why +does he regret it?--Because he finds it has not answered towards +himself. It has not made him happy. His circumstances are now +unembarrassed--he suffers from no evil of that kind; and he thinks +only that he has married a woman of a less amiable temper than +yourself. But does it follow that had he married you, he would have +been happy?--The inconveniences would have been different. He would +then have suffered under the pecuniary distresses which, because they +are removed, he now reckons as nothing. He would have had a wife of +whose temper he could make no complaint, but he would have been always +necessitous--always poor; and probably would soon have learned to rank +the innumerable comforts of a clear estate and good income as of far +more importance, even to domestic happiness, than the mere temper of a +wife." + +"I have not a doubt of it," said Marianne; "and I have nothing to +regret--nothing but my own folly." + +"Rather say your mother's imprudence, my child," said Mrs. Dashwood; +"_she_ must be answerable." + +Marianne would not let her proceed;--and Elinor, satisfied that each +felt their own error, wished to avoid any survey of the past that +might weaken her sister's spirits; she, therefore, pursuing the first +subject, immediately continued-- + +"One observation may, I think, be fairly drawn from the whole of the +story--that all Willoughby's difficulties have arisen from the first +offence against virtue, in his behaviour to Eliza Williams. That crime +has been the origin of every lesser one, and of all his present +discontents." + +Marianne assented most feelingly to the remark; and her mother was led +by it to an enumeration of Colonel Brandon's injuries and merits, warm +as friendship and design could unitedly dictate. Her daughter did not +look, however, as if much of it were heard by her. + +Elinor, according to her expectation, saw on the two or three +following days, that Marianne did not continue to gain strength as she +had done; but while her resolution was unsubdued, and she still tried +to appear cheerful and easy, her sister could safely trust to the +effect of time upon her health. + +Margaret returned, and the family were again all restored to each +other, again quietly settled at the cottage; and if not pursuing their +usual studies with quite so much vigour as when they first came to +Barton, at least planning a vigorous prosecution of them in future. + +Elinor grew impatient for some tidings of Edward. She had heard +nothing of him since her leaving London, nothing new of his plans, +nothing certain even of his present abode. Some letters had passed +between her and her brother, in consequence of Marianne's illness; and +in the first of John's, there had been this sentence:--"We know +nothing of our unfortunate Edward, and can make no enquiries on so +prohibited a subject, but conclude him to be still at Oxford"; which +was all the intelligence of Edward afforded her by the correspondence, +for his name was not even mentioned in any of the succeeding letters. +She was not doomed, however, to be long in ignorance of his measures. + +Their man-servant had been sent one morning to Exeter on business; and +when, as he waited at table, he had satisfied the inquiries of his +mistress as to the event of his errand, this was his voluntary +communication-- + +"I suppose you know, ma'am, that Mr. Ferrars is married." + +Marianne gave a violent start, fixed her eyes upon Elinor, saw her +turning pale, and fell back in her chair in hysterics. Mrs. Dashwood, +whose eyes, as she answered the servant's inquiry, had intuitively +taken the same direction, was shocked to perceive by Elinor's +countenance how much she really suffered, and a moment afterwards, +alike distressed by Marianne's situation, knew not on which child to +bestow her principal attention. + +The servant, who saw only that Miss Marianne was taken ill, had sense +enough to call one of the maids, who, with Mrs. Dashwood's assistance, +supported her into the other room. By that time, Marianne was rather +better, and her mother leaving her to the care of Margaret and the +maid, returned to Elinor, who, though still much disordered, had so +far recovered the use of her reason and voice as to be just +beginning an inquiry of Thomas, as to the source of his intelligence. +Mrs. Dashwood immediately took all that trouble on herself; and Elinor +had the benefit of the information without the exertion of seeking it. + +[Illustration: "_I suppose you know, ma'am, that Mr. Ferrars is +married._"] + +"Who told you that Mr. Ferrars was married, Thomas?" + +"I see Mr. Ferrars myself, ma'am, this morning in Exeter, and his lady +too, Miss Steele as was. They was stopping in a chaise at the door of +the New London Inn, as I went there with a message from Sally at the +Park to her brother, who is one of the post-boys. I happened to look +up as I went by the chaise, and so I see directly it was the youngest +Miss Steele; so I took off my hat, and she knew me and called to me, +and inquired after you, ma'am, and the young ladies, especially Miss +Marianne, and bid me I should give her compliments and Mr. Ferrars's, +their best compliments and service, and how sorry they was they had +not time to come on and see you, but they was in a great hurry to go +forwards, for they was going further down for a little while, but +however, when they come back, they'd make sure to come and see you." + +"But did she tell you she was married, Thomas?" + +"Yes, ma'am. She smiled, and said how she had changed her name since +she was in these parts. She was always a very affable and free-spoken +young lady, and very civil behaved. So, I made free to wish her joy." + +"Was Mr. Ferrars in the carriage with her?" + +"Yes, ma'am, I just see him leaning back in it, but he did not look +up;--he never was a gentleman much for talking." + +Elinor's heart could easily account for his not putting himself +forward; and Mrs. Dashwood probably found the same explanation. + +"Was there no one else in the carriage?" + +"No, ma'am, only they two." + +"Do you know where they came from?" + +"They come straight from town, as Miss Lucy--Mrs. Ferrars told me." + +"And are they going farther westward?" + +"Yes, ma'am--but not to bide long. They will soon be back again, and +then they'd be sure and call here." + +Mrs. Dashwood now looked at her daughter; but Elinor knew better than +to expect them. She recognised the whole of Lucy in the message, and +was very confident that Edward would never come near them. She +observed in a low voice, to her mother, that they were probably going +down to Mr. Pratt's, near Plymouth. + +Thomas's intelligence seemed over. Elinor looked as if she wished to +hear more. + +"Did you see them off, before you came away?" + +"No, ma'am--the horses were just coming out, but I could not bide any +longer; I was afraid of being late." + +"Did Mrs. Ferrars look well?" + +"Yes, ma'am, she said how she was very well; and to my mind she was +always a very handsome young lady--and she seemed vastly contented." + +Mrs. Dashwood could think of no other question, and Thomas and the +tablecloth, now alike needless, were soon afterwards dismissed. +Marianne had already sent to say, that she should eat nothing more. +Mrs. Dashwood's and Elinor's appetites were equally lost, and Margaret +might think herself very well off, that with so much uneasiness as +both her sisters had lately experienced, so much reason as they had +often had to be careless of their meals, she had never been obliged to +go without her dinner before. + +When the dessert and the wine were arranged, and Mrs. Dashwood and +Elinor were left by themselves, they remained long together in a +similarity of thoughtfulness and silence. Mrs. Dashwood feared to +hazard any remark, and ventured not to offer consolation. She now +found that she had erred in relying on Elinor's representation of +herself; and justly concluded that every thing had been expressly +softened at the time, to spare her from an increase of unhappiness, +suffering as she then had suffered for Marianne. She found that she +had been misled by the careful, the considerate attention of her +daughter, to think the attachment, which once she had so well +understood, much slighter in reality, than she had been wont to +believe, or than it was now proved to be. She feared that under this +persuasion she had been unjust, inattentive, nay, almost unkind, to +her Elinor; that Marianne's affliction, because more acknowledged, +more immediately before her, had too much engrossed her tenderness, +and led her away to forget that in Elinor she might have a daughter +suffering almost as much, certainly with less self-provocation, and +greater fortitude. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII + + +Elinor now found the difference between the expectation of an +unpleasant event, however certain the mind may be told to consider it, +and certainty itself. She now found, that in spite of herself, she had +always admitted a hope, while Edward remained single, that something +would occur to prevent his marrying Lucy; that some resolution of his +own, some mediation of friends, or some more eligible opportunity of +establishment for the lady, would arise to assist the happiness of +all. But he was now married; and she condemned her heart for the +lurking flattery, which so much heightened the pain of the +intelligence. + +That he should be married soon, before (as she imagined) he could be +in orders, and consequently before he could be in possession of the +living, surprised her a little at first. But she soon saw how likely +it was that Lucy, in her self-provident care, in her haste to secure +him, should overlook every thing but the risk of delay. They were +married, married in town, and now hastening down to her uncle's. What +had Edward felt on being within four miles from Barton, on seeing her +mother's servant, on hearing Lucy's message! + +They would soon, she supposed, be settled at +Delaford;--Delaford,--that place in which so much conspired to give +her an interest; which she wished to be acquainted with, and yet +desired to avoid. She saw them in an instant in their parsonage-house; +saw in Lucy, the active, contriving manager, uniting at once a desire +of smart appearance with the utmost frugality, and ashamed to be +suspected of half her economical practices; pursuing her own interest +in every thought, courting the favour of Colonel Brandon, of Mrs. +Jennings, and of every wealthy friend. In Edward, she knew not what +she saw, nor what she wished to see. Happy or unhappy, nothing pleased +her; she turned away her head from every sketch of him. + +Elinor flattered herself that some one of their connections in London +would write to them to announce the event, and give farther +particulars,--but day after day passed off, and brought no letter, no +tidings. Though uncertain that any one were to blame, she found fault +with every absent friend. They were all thoughtless or indolent. + +"When do you write to Colonel Brandon, ma'am?" was an inquiry which +sprung from the impatience of her mind to have something going on. + +"I wrote to him, my love, last week, and rather expect to see, than to +hear from him again. I earnestly pressed his coming to us, and should +not be surprised to see him walk in today or tomorrow, or any day." + +This was gaining something, something to look forward to. Colonel +Brandon must have some information to give. + +Scarcely had she so determined it, when the figure of a man on +horseback drew her eyes to the window. He stopped at their gate. It +was a gentleman, it was Colonel Brandon himself. Now she could hear +more; and she trembled in expectation of it. But--it was _not_ Colonel +Brandon--neither his air--nor his height. Were it possible, she must +say it must be Edward. She looked again. He had just dismounted;--she +could not be mistaken,--it _was_ Edward. She moved away and sat down. +"He comes from Mr. Pratt's purposely to see us. I _will_ be calm, I +_will_ be mistress of myself." + +In a moment she perceived that the others were likewise aware of the +mistake. She saw her mother and Marianne change colour; saw them look +at herself, and whisper a few sentences to each other. She would have +given the world to be able to speak--and to make them understand that +she hoped no coolness, no slight, would appear in their behaviour to +him;--but she had no utterance, and was obliged to leave all to their +own discretion. + +Not a syllable passed aloud. They all waited in silence for the +appearance of their visitor. His footsteps were heard along the gravel +path; in a moment he was in the passage, and in another he was before +them. + +His countenance, as he entered the room, was not too happy, even for +Elinor. His complexion was white with agitation, and he looked as if +fearful of his reception, and conscious that he merited no kind one. +Mrs. Dashwood, however, conforming, as she trusted, to the wishes of +that daughter, by whom she then meant in the warmth of her heart to be +guided in every thing, met with a look of forced complacency, gave him +her hand, and wished him joy. + +[Illustration: _It was Edward._] + +He coloured, and stammered out an unintelligible reply. Elinor's lips +had moved with her mother's, and, when the moment of action was over, +she wished that she had shaken hands with him too. But it was then too +late, and with a countenance meaning to be open, she sat down again +and talked of the weather. + +Marianne had retreated as much as possible out of sight, to conceal +her distress; and Margaret, understanding some part, but not the whole +of the case, thought it incumbent on her to be dignified, and +therefore took a seat as far from him as she could, and maintained a +strict silence. + +When Elinor had ceased to rejoice in the dryness of the season, a very +awful pause took place. It was put an end to by Mrs. Dashwood, who +felt obliged to hope that he had left Mrs. Ferrars very well. In a +hurried manner, he replied in the affirmative. + +Another pause. + +Elinor resolving to exert herself, though fearing the sound of her own +voice, now said-- + +"Is Mrs. Ferrars at Longstaple?" + +"At Longstaple!" he replied, with an air of surprise. "No, my mother +is in town." + +"I meant," said Elinor, taking up some work from the table, "to +inquire for Mrs. _Edward_ Ferrars." + +She dared not look up;--but her mother and Marianne both turned their +eyes on him. He coloured, seemed perplexed, looked doubtingly, and, +after some hesitation, said,-- + +"Perhaps you mean--my brother--you mean Mrs.--Mrs. _Robert_ Ferrars." + +"Mrs. Robert Ferrars!"--was repeated by Marianne and her mother in an +accent of the utmost amazement;--and though Elinor could not speak, +even _her_ eyes were fixed on him with the same impatient wonder. He +rose from his seat, and walked to the window, apparently from not +knowing what to do; took up a pair of scissors that lay there, and +while spoiling both them and their sheath by cutting the latter to +pieces as he spoke, said, in a hurried voice-- + +"Perhaps you do not know--you may not have heard that my brother is +lately married to--to the youngest--to Miss Lucy Steele." + +His words were echoed with unspeakable astonishment by all but +Elinor, who sat with her head leaning over her work, in a state of +such agitation as made her hardly know where she was. + +"Yes," said he, "they were married last week, and are now at Dawlish." + +Elinor could sit it no longer. She almost ran out of the room, and as +soon as the door was closed, burst into tears of joy, which at first +she thought would never cease. Edward, who had till then looked any +where, rather than at her, saw her hurry away, and perhaps saw, or +even heard, her emotion; for immediately afterwards he fell into a +reverie, which no remarks, no inquiries, no affectionate address of +Mrs. Dashwood could penetrate, and at last, without saying a word, +quitted the room, and walked out towards the village, leaving the +others in the greatest astonishment and perplexity on a change in his +situation, so wonderful and so sudden,--a perplexity which they had no +means of lessening but by their own conjectures. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX + + +Unaccountable, however, as the circumstances of his release might +appear to the whole family, it was certain that Edward was free; and +to what purpose that freedom would be employed was easily +pre-determined by all;--for after experiencing the blessings of _one_ +imprudent engagement, contracted without his mother's consent, as he +had already done for more than four years, nothing less could be +expected of him in the failure of _that_, than the immediate +contraction of another. + +His errand at Barton, in fact, was a simple one. It was only to ask +Elinor to marry him;--and considering that he was not altogether +inexperienced in such a question, it might be strange that he should +feel so uncomfortable in the present case as he really did, so much in +need of encouragement and fresh air. + +How soon he had walked himself into the proper resolution, however, +how soon an opportunity of exercising it occurred, in what manner he +expressed himself, and how he was received, need not be particularly +told. This only need be said;--that when they all sat down to table at +four o'clock, about three hours after his arrival, he had secured his +lady, engaged her mother's consent, and was not only in the rapturous +profession of the lover, but, in the reality of reason and truth, one +of the happiest of men. His situation indeed was more than commonly +joyful. He had more than the ordinary triumph of accepted love to +swell his heart, and raise his spirits. He was released without any +reproach to himself, from an entanglement which had long formed his +misery, from a woman whom he had long ceased to love; and elevated at +once to that security with another, which he must have thought of +almost with despair, as soon as he had learnt to consider it with +desire. He was brought, not from doubt or suspense, but from misery to +happiness; and the change was openly spoken in such a genuine, +flowing, grateful cheerfulness, as his friends had never witnessed in +him before. + +His heart was now open to Elinor, all its weaknesses, all its errors +confessed, and his first boyish attachment to Lucy treated with all +the philosophic dignity of twenty-four. + +"It was a foolish, idle inclination on my side," said he, "the +consequence of ignorance of the world and want of employment. Had my +mother given me some active profession when I was removed at eighteen +from the care of Mr. Pratt, I think, nay, I am sure, it would never +have happened; for though I left Longstaple with what I thought, at +the time, a most unconquerable preference for his niece, yet had I +then had any pursuit, any object to engage my time and keep me at a +distance from her for a few months, I should very soon have outgrown +the fancied attachment, especially by mixing more with the world, as +in such case I must have done. But instead of having any thing to do, +instead of having any profession chosen for me, or being allowed to +choose any myself, I returned home to be completely idle; and for the +first twelvemonth afterwards I had not even the nominal employment, +which belonging to the university would have given me; for I was not +entered at Oxford till I was nineteen. I had therefore nothing in the +world to do, but to fancy myself in love; and as my mother did not +make my home in every respect comfortable, as I had no friend, no +companion in my brother, and disliked new acquaintance, it was not +unnatural for me to be very often at Longstaple, where I always felt +myself at home, and was always sure of a welcome; and accordingly I +spent the greatest part of my time there from eighteen to nineteen: +Lucy appeared everything that was amiable and obliging. She was pretty +too--at least I thought so _then_; and I had seen so little of other +women, that I could make no comparisons, and see no defects. +Considering everything, therefore, I hope, foolish as our engagement +was, foolish as it has since in every way been proved, it was not at +the time an unnatural or an inexcusable piece of folly." + +The change which a few hours had wrought in the minds and the +happiness of the Dashwoods, was such--so great--as promised them all, +the satisfaction of a sleepless night. Mrs. Dashwood, too happy to be +comfortable, knew not how to love Edward, nor praise Elinor enough, +how to be enough thankful for his release without wounding his +delicacy, nor how at once to give them leisure for unrestrained +conversation together, and yet enjoy, as she wished, the sight and +society of both. + +Marianne could speak _her_ happiness only by tears. Comparisons would +occur--regrets would arise;--and her joy, though sincere as her love +for her sister, was of a kind to give her neither spirits nor +language. + +But Elinor--how are _her_ feelings to be described? From the moment of +learning that Lucy was married to another, that Edward was free, to +the moment of his justifying the hopes which had so instantly +followed, she was every thing by turns but tranquil. But when the +second moment had passed, when she found every doubt, every solicitude +removed, compared her situation with what so lately it had been,--saw +him honourably released from his former engagement,--saw him instantly +profiting by the release, to address herself and declare an affection +as tender, as constant as she had ever supposed it to be,--she was +oppressed, she was overcome by her own felicity; and happily disposed +as is the human mind to be easily familiarized with any change for the +better, it required several hours to give sedateness to her spirits, +or any degree of tranquillity to her heart. + +Edward was now fixed at the cottage at least for a week;--for whatever +other claims might be made on him, it was impossible that less than a +week should be given up to the enjoyment of Elinor's company, or +suffice to say half that was to be said of the past, the present, and +the future;--for though a very few hours spent in the hard labor of +incessant talking will despatch more subjects than can really be in +common between any two rational creatures, yet with lovers it is +different. Between _them_ no subject is finished, no communication is +even made, till it has been made at least twenty times over. + +Lucy's marriage, the unceasing and reasonable wonder among them all, +formed of course one of the earliest discussions of the lovers;--and +Elinor's particular knowledge of each party made it appear to her in +every view, as one of the most extraordinary and unaccountable +circumstances she had ever heard. How they could be thrown together, +and by what attraction Robert could be drawn on to marry a girl, of +whose beauty she had herself heard him speak without any +admiration,--a girl too already engaged to his brother, and on whose +account that brother had been thrown off by his family--it was beyond +her comprehension to make out. To her own heart it was a delightful +affair, to her imagination it was even a ridiculous one, but to her +reason, her judgment, it was completely a puzzle. + +Edward could only attempt an explanation by supposing, that, perhaps, +at first accidentally meeting, the vanity of the one had been so +worked on by the flattery of the other, as to lead by degrees to all +the rest. Elinor remembered what Robert had told her in Harley Street, +of his opinion of what his own mediation in his brother's affairs +might have done, if applied to in time. She repeated it to Edward. + +"_That_ was exactly like Robert," was his immediate observation. "And +_that_," he presently added, "might perhaps be in _his_ head when the +acquaintance between them first began. And Lucy perhaps at first might +think only of procuring his good offices in my favour. Other designs +might afterward arise." + +How long it had been carrying on between them, however, he was equally +at a loss with herself to make out; for at Oxford, where he had +remained for choice ever since his quitting London, he had had no +means of hearing of her but from herself, and her letters to the very +last were neither less frequent, nor less affectionate than usual. Not +the smallest suspicion, therefore, had ever occurred to prepare him +for what followed;--and when at last it burst on him in a letter from +Lucy herself, he had been for some time, he believed, half stupified +between the wonder, the horror, and the joy of such a deliverance. He +put the letter into Elinor's hands. + +"DEAR SIR, + + "Being very sure I have long lost your affections, I have + thought myself at liberty to bestow my own on another, and + have no doubt of being as happy with him as I once used to + think I might be with you; but I scorn to accept a hand + while the heart was another's. Sincerely wish you happy in + your choice, and it shall not be my fault if we are not + always good friends, as our near relationship now makes + proper. I can safely say I owe you no ill-will, and am sure + you will be too generous to do us any ill offices. Your + brother has gained my affections entirely, and as we could + not live without one another, we are just returned from the + altar, and are now on our way to Dawlish for a few weeks, + which place your dear brother has great curiosity to see, + but thought I would first trouble you with these few lines, + and shall always remain-- + + "Your sincere well-wisher, friend, and sister, + + "LUCY FERRARS." + + "I have burnt all your letters, and will return your picture + the first opportunity. Please to destroy my scrawls--but the + ring with my hair you are very welcome to keep." + +Elinor read and returned it without any comment. + +"I will not ask your opinion of it as a composition," said Edward. +"For worlds would not I have had a letter of hers seen by _you_ in +former days. In a sister it is bad enough, but in a wife! how I have +blushed over the pages of her writing! and I believe I may say that +since the first half year of our foolish business this is the only +letter I ever received from her, of which the substance made me any +amends for the defect of the style." + +"However it may have come about," said Elinor, after a pause,--"they +are certainly married. And your mother has brought on herself a most +appropriate punishment. The independence she settled on Robert, +through resentment against you, has put it in his power to make his +own choice; and she has actually been bribing one son with a thousand +a-year, to do the very deed which she disinherited the other for +intending to do. She will hardly be less hurt, I suppose, by Robert's +marrying Lucy, than she would have been by your marrying her." + +"She will be more hurt by it, for Robert always was her favourite. She +will be more hurt by it, and on the same principle will forgive him +much sooner." + +In what state the affair stood at present between them, Edward knew +not, for no communication with any of his family had yet been +attempted by him. He had quitted Oxford within four and twenty hours +after Lucy's letter arrived, and with only one object before him, the +nearest road to Barton, had had no leisure to form any scheme of +conduct, with which that road did not hold the most intimate +connection. He could do nothing till he were assured of his fate with +Miss Dashwood; and by his rapidity in seeking _that_ fate, it is to be +supposed, in spite of the jealousy with which he had once thought of +Colonel Brandon, in spite of the modesty with which he rated his own +deserts, and the politeness with which he talked of his doubts, he did +not, upon the whole, expect a very cruel reception. It was his +business, however, to say that he _did_, and he said it very prettily. +What he might say on the subject a twelvemonth after, must be referred +to the imagination of husbands and wives. + +That Lucy had certainly meant to deceive, to go off with a flourish of +malice against him in her message by Thomas, was perfectly clear to +Elinor; and Edward himself, now thoroughly enlightened on her +character, had no scruple in believing her capable of the utmost +meanness of wanton ill-nature. Though his eyes had been long opened, +even before his acquaintance with Elinor began, to her ignorance and a +want of liberality in some of her opinions, they had been equally +imputed, by him, to her want of education; and till her last letter +reached him, he had always believed her to be a well-disposed, +good-hearted girl, and thoroughly attached to himself. Nothing but +such a persuasion could have prevented his putting an end to an +engagement, which, long before the discovery of it laid him open to +his mother's anger, had been a continual source of disquiet and regret +to him. + +"I thought it my duty," said he, "independent of my feelings, to give +her the option of continuing the engagement or not, when I was +renounced by my mother, and stood to all appearance without a friend +in the world to assist me. In such a situation as that, where there +seemed nothing to tempt the avarice or the vanity of any living +creature, how could I suppose, when she so earnestly, so warmly +insisted on sharing my fate, whatever it might be, that any thing but +the most disinterested affection was her inducement? And even now, I +cannot comprehend on what motive she acted, or what fancied advantage +it could be to her, to be fettered to a man for whom she had not the +smallest regard, and who had only two thousand pounds in the world. +She could not foresee that Colonel Brandon would give me a living." + +"No; but she might suppose that something would occur in your favour; +that your own family might in time relent. And at any rate, she lost +nothing by continuing the engagement, for she has proved that it +fettered neither her inclination nor her actions. The connection was +certainly a respectable one, and probably gained her consideration +among her friends; and, if nothing more advantageous occurred, it +would be better for her to marry _you_ than be single." + +Edward was, of course, immediately convinced that nothing could have +been more natural than Lucy's conduct, nor more self-evident than the +motive of it. + +Elinor scolded him, harshly as ladies always scold the imprudence +which compliments themselves, for having spent so much time with them +at Norland, when he must have felt his own inconstancy. + +"Your behaviour was certainly very wrong," said she; "because--to say +nothing of my own conviction, our relations were all led away by it to +fancy and expect _what_, as you were _then_ situated, could never be." + +He could only plead an ignorance of his own heart, and a mistaken +confidence in the force of his engagement. + +"I was simple enough to think, that because my _faith_ was plighted to +another, there could be no danger in my being with you; and that the +consciousness of my engagement was to keep my heart as safe and sacred +as my honour. I felt that I admired you, but I told myself it was only +friendship; and till I began to make comparisons between yourself and +Lucy, I did not know how far I was got. After that, I suppose, I _was_ +wrong in remaining so much in Sussex, and the arguments with which I +reconciled myself to the expediency of it, were no better than +these:--The danger is my own; I am doing no injury to anybody but +myself." + +Elinor smiled, and shook her head. + +Edward heard with pleasure of Colonel Brandon's being expected at the +Cottage, as he really wished not only to be better acquainted with +him, but to have an opportunity of convincing him that he no longer +resented his giving him the living of Delaford--"Which, at present," +said he, "after thanks so ungraciously delivered as mine were on the +occasion, he must think I have never forgiven him for offering." + +_Now_ he felt astonished himself that he had never yet been to the +place. But so little interest had he taken in the matter, that he owed +all his knowledge of the house, garden, and glebe, extent of the +parish, condition of the land, and rate of the tithes, to Elinor +herself, who had heard so much of it from Colonel Brandon, and heard +it with so much attention, as to be entirely mistress of the subject. + +One question after this only remained undecided, between them, one +difficulty only was to be overcome. They were brought together by +mutual affection, with the warmest approbation of their real friends; +their intimate knowledge of each other seemed to make their happiness +certain--and they only wanted something to live upon. Edward had two +thousand pounds, and Elinor one, which, with Delaford living, was all +that they could call their own; for it was impossible that Mrs. +Dashwood should advance anything; and they were neither of them quite +enough in love to think that three hundred and fifty pounds a-year +would supply them with the comforts of life. + +Edward was not entirely without hopes of some favourable change in his +mother towards him; and on _that_ he rested for the residue of their +income. But Elinor had no such dependence; for since Edward would +still be unable to marry Miss Morton, and his choosing herself had +been spoken of in Mrs. Ferrars's flattering language as only a lesser +evil than his choosing Lucy Steele, she feared that Robert's offence +would serve no other purpose than to enrich Fanny. + +About four days after Edward's arrival Colonel Brandon appeared, to +complete Mrs. Dashwood's satisfaction, and to give her the dignity of +having, for the first time since her living at Barton, more company +with her than her house would hold. Edward was allowed to retain the +privilege of first comer, and Colonel Brandon therefore walked every +night to his old quarters at the Park; from whence he usually returned +in the morning, early enough to interrupt the lovers' first +tête-à-tête before breakfast. + +A three weeks' residence at Delaford, where, in his evening hours at +least, he had little to do but to calculate the disproportion between +thirty-six and seventeen, brought him to Barton in a temper of mind +which needed all the improvement in Marianne's looks, all the kindness +of her welcome, and all the encouragement of her mother's language, to +make it cheerful. Among such friends, however, and such flattery, he +did revive. No rumour of Lucy's marriage had yet reached him:--he knew +nothing of what had passed; and the first hours of his visit were +consequently spent in hearing and in wondering. Every thing was +explained to him by Mrs. Dashwood, and he found fresh reason to +rejoice in what he had done for Mr. Ferrars, since eventually it +promoted the interest of Elinor. + +It would be needless to say, that the gentlemen advanced in the good +opinion of each other, as they advanced in each other's acquaintance, +for it could not be otherwise. Their resemblance in good principles +and good sense, in disposition and manner of thinking, would probably +have been sufficient to unite them in friendship, without any other +attraction; but their being in love with two sisters, and two sisters +fond of each other, made that mutual regard inevitable and immediate, +which might otherwise have waited the effect of time and judgment. + +The letters from town, which a few days before would have made every +nerve in Elinor's body thrill with transport, now arrived to be read +with less emotion than mirth. Mrs. Jennings wrote to tell the +wonderful tale, to vent her honest indignation against the jilting +girl, and pour forth her compassion towards poor Mr. Edward, who, she +was sure, had quite doted upon the worthless hussy, and was now, by +all accounts, almost broken-hearted, at Oxford. "I do think," she +continued, "nothing was ever carried on so sly; for it was but two +days before Lucy called and sat a couple of hours with me. Not a soul +suspected anything of the matter, not even Nancy, who, poor soul! came +crying to me the day after, in a great fright for fear of Mrs. +Ferrars, as well as not knowing how to get to Plymouth; for Lucy it +seems borrowed all her money before she went off to be married, on +purpose we suppose to make a show with, and poor Nancy had not seven +shillings in the world;--so I was very glad to give her five guineas +to take her down to Exeter, where she thinks of staying three or four +weeks with Mrs. Burgess, in hopes, as I tell her, to fall in with the +Doctor again. And I must say that Lucy's crossness not to take them +along with them in the chaise is worse than all. Poor Mr. Edward! I +cannot get him out of my head, but you must send for him to Barton, +and Miss Marianne must try to comfort him." + +Mr. Dashwood's strains were more solemn. Mrs. Ferrars was the most +unfortunate of women--poor Fanny had suffered agonies of +sensibility--and he considered the existence of each, under such a +blow, with grateful wonder. Robert's offence was unpardonable, but +Lucy's was infinitely worse. Neither of them were ever again to be +mentioned to Mrs. Ferrars; and even, if she might hereafter be induced +to forgive her son, his wife should never be acknowledged as her +daughter, nor be permitted to appear in her presence. The secrecy with +which everything had been carried on between them, was rationally +treated as enormously heightening the crime, because, had any +suspicion of it occurred to the others, proper measures would have +been taken to prevent the marriage; and he called on Elinor to join +with him in regretting that Lucy's engagement with Edward had not +rather been fulfilled, than that she should thus be the means of +spreading misery farther in the family. He thus continued:-- + +"Mrs. Ferrars has never yet mentioned Edward's name, which does not +surprise us; but, to our great astonishment, not a line has been +received from him on the occasion. Perhaps, however, he is kept silent +by his fear of offending, and I shall, therefore, give him a hint, by +a line to Oxford, that his sister and I both think a letter of proper +submission from him, addressed perhaps to Fanny, and by her shown to +her mother, might not be taken amiss; for we all know the tenderness +of Mrs. Ferrars's heart, and that she wishes for nothing so much as to +be on good terms with her children." + +This paragraph was of some importance to the prospects and conduct of +Edward. It determined him to attempt a reconciliation, though not +exactly in the manner pointed out by their brother and sister. + +"A letter of proper submission!" repeated he; "would they have me beg +my mother's pardon for Robert's ingratitude to _her_, and breach of +honour to _me_? I can make no submission. I am grown neither humble +nor penitent by what has passed. I am grown very happy; but that would +not interest. I know of no submission that _is_ proper for me to +make." + +"You may certainly ask to be forgiven," said Elinor, "because you have +offended;--and I should think you might _now_ venture so far as to +profess some concern for having ever formed the engagement which drew +on you your mother's anger." + +He agreed that he might. + +"And when she has forgiven you, perhaps a little humility may be +convenient while acknowledging a second engagement, almost as +imprudent in _her_ eyes as the first." + +He had nothing to urge against it, but still resisted the idea of a +letter of proper submission; and therefore, to make it easier to him, +as he declared a much greater willingness to make mean concessions by +word of mouth than on paper, it was resolved that, instead of writing +to Fanny, he should go to London, and personally entreat her good +offices in his favour. "And if they really _do_ interest themselves," +said Marianne, in her new character of candour, "in bringing about a +reconciliation, I shall think that even John and Fanny are not +entirely without merit." + +After a visit on Colonel Brandon's side of only three or four days, +the two gentlemen quitted Barton together. They were to go immediately +to Delaford, that Edward might have some personal knowledge of his +future home, and assist his patron and friend in deciding on what +improvements were needed to it; and from thence, after staying there a +couple of nights, he was to proceed on his journey to town. + + + + +CHAPTER L + + +After a proper resistance on the part of Mrs. Ferrars, just so violent +and so steady as to preserve her from that reproach which she always +seemed fearful of incurring, the reproach of being too amiable, Edward +was admitted to her presence, and pronounced to be again her son. + +Her family had of late been exceedingly fluctuating. For many years of +her life she had had two sons; but the crime and annihilation of +Edward a few weeks ago, had robbed her of one; the similar +annihilation of Robert had left her for a fortnight without any; and +now, by the resuscitation of Edward, she had one again. + +In spite of his being allowed once more to live, however, he did not +feel the continuance of his existence secure, till he had revealed his +present engagement; for the publication of that circumstance, he +feared, might give a sudden turn to his constitution, and carry him +off as rapidly as before. With apprehensive caution therefore it was +revealed, and he was listened to with unexpected calmness. Mrs. +Ferrars at first reasonably endeavoured to dissuade him from marrying +Miss Dashwood, by every argument in her power; told him, that in Miss +Morton he would have a woman of higher rank and larger fortune; and +enforced the assertion, by observing that Miss Morton was the daughter +of a nobleman with thirty thousand pounds, while Miss Dashwood was +only the daughter of a private gentleman with no more than _three_; +but when she found that, though perfectly admitting the truth of her +representation, he was by no means inclined to be guided by it, she +judged it wisest, from the experience of the past, to submit; and +therefore, after such an ungracious delay as she owed to her own +dignity, and as served to prevent every suspicion of good-will, she +issued her decree of consent to the marriage of Edward and Elinor. + +What she would engage to do towards augmenting their income was next +to be considered; and here it plainly appeared, that though Edward was +now her only son, he was by no means her eldest; for while Robert was +inevitably endowed with a thousand pounds a-year, not the smallest +objection was made against Edward's taking orders for the sake of two +hundred and fifty at the utmost; nor was anything promised either for +the present or in future, beyond the ten thousand pounds, which had +been given with Fanny. + +It was as much, however, as was desired, and more than was expected, +by Edward and Elinor; and Mrs. Ferrars herself, by her shuffling +excuses, seemed the only person surprised at her not giving more. + +With an income quite sufficient to their wants thus secured to them, +they had nothing to wait for after Edward was in possession of the +living, but the readiness of the house, to which Colonel Brandon, with +an eager desire for the accommodation of Elinor, was making +considerable improvements; and after waiting some time for their +completion, after experiencing, as usual, a thousand disappointments +and delays from the unaccountable dilatoriness of the workmen, Elinor, +as usual, broke through the first positive resolution of not marrying +till every thing was ready, and the ceremony took place in Barton +church early in the autumn. + +The first month after their marriage was spent with their friend at +the Mansion-house; from whence they could superintend the progress of +the Parsonage, and direct every thing as they liked on the +spot;--could choose papers, project shrubberies, and invent a sweep. +Mrs. Jennings's prophecies, though rather jumbled together, were +chiefly fulfilled; for she was able to visit Edward and his wife in +their Parsonage by Michaelmas, and she found in Elinor and her +husband, as she really believed, one of the happiest couples in the +world. They had in fact nothing to wish for, but the marriage of +Colonel Brandon and Marianne, and rather better pasturage for their +cows. + +They were visited on their first settling by almost all their +relations and friends. Mrs. Ferrars came to inspect the happiness +which she was almost ashamed of having authorised; and even the +Dashwoods were at the expense of a journey from Sussex to do them +honour. + +"I will not say that I am disappointed, my dear sister," said John, as +they were walking together one morning before the gates of Delaford +House, "_that_ would be saying too much, for certainly you have been +one of the most fortunate young women in the world, as it is. But, I +confess, it would give me great pleasure to call Colonel Brandon +brother. His property here, his place, his house,--every thing is in +such respectable and excellent condition! And his woods,--I have not +seen such timber any where in Dorsetshire, as there is now standing in +Delaford Hanger! And though, perhaps, Marianne may not seem exactly +the person to attract him, yet I think it would altogether be +advisable for you to have them now frequently staying with you, for as +Colonel Brandon seems a great deal at home, nobody can tell what may +happen; for, when people are much thrown together, and see little of +anybody else,--and it will always be in your power to set her off to +advantage, and so forth. In short, you may as well give her a chance; +You understand me." + +But though Mrs. Ferrars _did_ come to see them, and always treated +them with the make-believe of decent affection, they were never +insulted by her real favour and preference. _That_ was due to the +folly of Robert, and the cunning of his wife; and it was earned by +them before many months had passed away. The selfish sagacity of the +latter, which had at first drawn Robert into the scrape, was the +principal instrument of his deliverance from it; for her respectful +humility, assiduous attentions, and endless flatteries, as soon as the +smallest opening was given for their exercise, reconciled Mrs. Ferrars +to his choice, and re-established him completely in her favour. + +[Illustration: _Everything in such respectable condition_] + +The whole of Lucy's behaviour in the affair, and the prosperity which +crowned it, therefore, may be held forth as a most encouraging +instance of what an earnest, an unceasing attention to self-interest, +however its progress may be apparently obstructed, will do in securing +every advantage of fortune, with no other sacrifice than that of time +and conscience. When Robert first sought her acquaintance, and +privately visited her in Bartlett's Buildings, it was only with the +view imputed to him by his brother. He merely meant to persuade her to +give up the engagement; and as there could be nothing to overcome but +the affection of both, he naturally expected that one or two +interviews would settle the matter. In that point, however, and that +only, he erred; for though Lucy soon gave him hopes that his eloquence +would convince her in _time_, another visit, another conversation, was +always wanted to produce this conviction. Some doubts always lingered +in her mind when they parted, which could only be removed by another +half hour's discourse with himself. His attendance was by this means +secured, and the rest followed in course. Instead of talking of +Edward, they came gradually to talk only of Robert,--a subject on +which he had always more to say than on any other, and in which she +soon betrayed an interest even equal to his own; and in short, it +became speedily evident to both, that he had entirely supplanted his +brother. He was proud of his conquest, proud of tricking Edward, and +very proud of marrying privately without his mother's consent. What +immediately followed is known. They passed some months in great +happiness at Dawlish; for she had many relations and old acquaintances +to cut--and he drew several plans for magnificent cottages; and from +thence returning to town, procured the forgiveness of Mrs. Ferrars, by +the simple expedient of asking it, which, at Lucy's instigation, was +adopted. The forgiveness, at first, indeed, as was reasonable, +comprehended only Robert; and Lucy, who had owed his mother no duty +and therefore could have transgressed none, still remained some weeks +longer unpardoned. But perseverance in humility of conduct and +messages, in self-condemnation for Robert's offence, and gratitude for +the unkindness she was treated with, procured her in time the haughty +notice which overcame her by its graciousness, and led soon +afterwards, by rapid degrees, to the highest state of affection and +influence. Lucy became as necessary to Mrs. Ferrars, as either Robert +or Fanny; and while Edward was never cordially forgiven for having +once intended to marry her, and Elinor, though superior to her in +fortune and birth, was spoken of as an intruder, _she_ was in every +thing considered, and always openly acknowledged, to be a favourite +child. They settled in town, received very liberal assistance from +Mrs. Ferrars, were on the best terms imaginable with the Dashwoods; +and setting aside the jealousies and ill-will continually subsisting +between Fanny and Lucy, in which their husbands of course took a part, +as well as the frequent domestic disagreements between Robert and Lucy +themselves, nothing could exceed the harmony in which they all lived +together. + +What Edward had done to forfeit the right of eldest son, might have +puzzled many people to find out; and what Robert had done to succeed +to it, might have puzzled them still more. It was an arrangement, +however, justified in its effects, if not in its cause; for nothing +ever appeared in Robert's style of living or of talking to give a +suspicion of his regretting the extent of his income, as either +leaving his brother too little, or bringing himself too much;--and if +Edward might be judged from the ready discharge of his duties in every +particular, from an increasing attachment to his wife and his home, +and from the regular cheerfulness of his spirits, he might be supposed +no less contented with his lot, no less free from every wish of an +exchange. + +Elinor's marriage divided her as little from her family as could well +be contrived, without rendering the cottage at Barton entirely +useless, for her mother and sisters spent much more than half their +time with her. Mrs. Dashwood was acting on motives of policy as well +as pleasure in the frequency of her visits at Delaford; for her wish +of bringing Marianne and Colonel Brandon together was hardly less +earnest, though rather more liberal than what John had expressed. It +was now her darling object. Precious as was the company of her +daughter to her, she desired nothing so much as to give up its +constant enjoyment to her valued friend; and to see Marianne settled +at the mansion-house was equally the wish of Edward and Elinor. They +each felt his sorrows, and their own obligations, and Marianne, by +general consent, was to be the reward of all. + +With such a confederacy against her--with a knowledge so intimate of +his goodness--with a conviction of his fond attachment to herself, +which at last, though long after it was observable to everybody +else--burst on her--what could she do? + +Marianne Dashwood was born to an extraordinary fate. She was born to +discover the falsehood of her own opinions, and to counteract, by her +conduct, her most favourite maxims. She was born to overcome an +affection formed so late in life as at seventeen, and with no +sentiment superior to strong esteem and lively friendship, voluntarily +to give her hand to another!--and _that_ other, a man who had suffered +no less than herself under the event of a former attachment, whom, two +years before, she had considered too old to be married,--and who still +sought the constitutional safeguard of a flannel waistcoat! + +But so it was. Instead of falling a sacrifice to an irresistible +passion, as once she had fondly flattered herself with expecting, +instead of remaining even for ever with her mother, and finding her +only pleasures in retirement and study, as afterwards in her more calm +and sober judgment she had determined on,--she found herself at +nineteen, submitting to new attachments, entering on new duties, +placed in a new home, a wife, the mistress of a family, and the +patroness of a village. + +Colonel Brandon was now as happy, as all those who best loved him, +believed he deserved to be;--in Marianne he was consoled for every +past affliction;--her regard and her society restored his mind to +animation, and his spirits to cheerfulness; and that Marianne found +her own happiness in forming his, was equally the persuasion and +delight of each observing friend. Marianne could never love by halves; +and her whole heart became, in time, as much devoted to her husband, +as it had once been to Willoughby. + +Willoughby could not hear of her marriage without a pang; and his +punishment was soon afterwards complete in the voluntary forgiveness +of Mrs. Smith, who, by stating his marriage with a woman of character, +as the source of her clemency, gave him reason for believing that had +he behaved with honour towards Marianne, he might at once have been +happy and rich. That his repentance of misconduct, which thus brought +its own punishment, was sincere, need not be doubted;--nor that he +long thought of Colonel Brandon with envy, and of Marianne with +regret. But that he was for ever inconsolable, that he fled from +society, or contracted an habitual gloom of temper, or died of a +broken heart, must not be depended on--for he did neither. He lived to +exert, and frequently to enjoy himself. His wife was not always out of +humour, nor his home always uncomfortable; and in his breed of horses +and dogs, and in sporting of every kind, he found no inconsiderable +degree of domestic felicity. + +For Marianne, however, in spite of his incivility in surviving her +loss, he always retained that decided regard which interested him in +every thing that befell her, and made her his secret standard of +perfection in woman; and many a rising beauty would be slighted by him +in after-days as bearing no comparison with Mrs. Brandon. + +Mrs. Dashwood was prudent enough to remain at the cottage, without +attempting a removal to Delaford; and fortunately for Sir John and +Mrs. Jennings, when Marianne was taken from them, Margaret had +reached an age highly suitable for dancing, and not very ineligible +for being supposed to have a lover. + +Between Barton and Delaford, there was that constant communication +which strong family affection would naturally dictate;--and among the +merits and the happiness of Elinor and Marianne, let it not be ranked +as the least considerable, that though sisters, and living almost +within sight of each other, they could live without disagreement +between themselves, or producing coolness between their husbands. + +THE END + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sense and Sensibility, by Jane Austen + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SENSE AND SENSIBILITY *** + +***** This file should be named 21839-8.txt or 21839-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/8/3/21839/ + +Produced by Fritz Ohrenschall and Sankar Viswanathan (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/examples/wordcount/works/tamingoftheshrew.txt b/examples/wordcount/works/tamingoftheshrew.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..278528b --- /dev/null +++ b/examples/wordcount/works/tamingoftheshrew.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3837 @@ +The Taming of the Shrew + +SCENE I. Before an alehouse on a heath. +Enter Hostess and SLY +SLY +I'll pheeze you, in faith. +Hostess +A pair of stocks, you rogue! +SLY +Ye are a baggage: the Slys are no rogues; look in +the chronicles; we came in with Richard Conqueror. +Therefore paucas pallabris; let the world slide: sessa! +Hostess +You will not pay for the glasses you have burst? +SLY +No, not a denier. Go by, Jeronimy: go to thy cold +bed, and warm thee. +Hostess +I know my remedy; I must go fetch the +third--borough. +Exit + +SLY +Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him +by law: I'll not budge an inch, boy: let him come, +and kindly. +Falls asleep + +Horns winded. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his train + +Lord +Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds: +Brach Merriman, the poor cur is emboss'd; +And couple Clowder with the deep--mouth'd brach. +Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good +At the hedge-corner, in the coldest fault? +I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. +First Huntsman +Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord; +He cried upon it at the merest loss +And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent: +Trust me, I take him for the better dog. +Lord +Thou art a fool: if Echo were as fleet, +I would esteem him worth a dozen such. +But sup them well and look unto them all: +To-morrow I intend to hunt again. +First Huntsman +I will, my lord. +Lord +What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe? +Second Huntsman +He breathes, my lord. Were he not warm'd with ale, +This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. +Lord +O monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies! +Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image! +Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. +What think you, if he were convey'd to bed, +Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers, +A most delicious banquet by his bed, +And brave attendants near him when he wakes, +Would not the beggar then forget himself? +First Huntsman +Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. +Second Huntsman +It would seem strange unto him when he waked. +Lord +Even as a flattering dream or worthless fancy. +Then take him up and manage well the jest: +Carry him gently to my fairest chamber +And hang it round with all my wanton pictures: +Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters +And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet: +Procure me music ready when he wakes, +To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound; +And if he chance to speak, be ready straight +And with a low submissive reverence +Say 'What is it your honour will command?' +Let one attend him with a silver basin +Full of rose-water and bestrew'd with flowers, +Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper, +And say 'Will't please your lordship cool your hands?' +Some one be ready with a costly suit +And ask him what apparel he will wear; +Another tell him of his hounds and horse, +And that his lady mourns at his disease: +Persuade him that he hath been lunatic; +And when he says he is, say that he dreams, +For he is nothing but a mighty lord. +This do and do it kindly, gentle sirs: +It will be pastime passing excellent, +If it be husbanded with modesty. +First Huntsman +My lord, I warrant you we will play our part, +As he shall think by our true diligence +He is no less than what we say he is. +Lord +Take him up gently and to bed with him; +And each one to his office when he wakes. +Some bear out SLY. A trumpet sounds + +Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds: +Exit Servingman + +Belike, some noble gentleman that means, +Travelling some journey, to repose him here. +Re-enter Servingman + +How now! who is it? +Servant +An't please your honour, players +That offer service to your lordship. +Lord +Bid them come near. +Enter Players + +Now, fellows, you are welcome. +Players +We thank your honour. +Lord +Do you intend to stay with me tonight? +A Player +So please your lordship to accept our duty. +Lord +With all my heart. This fellow I remember, +Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son: +'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well: +I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part +Was aptly fitted and naturally perform'd. +A Player +I think 'twas Soto that your honour means. +Lord +'Tis very true: thou didst it excellent. +Well, you are come to me in a happy time; +The rather for I have some sport in hand +Wherein your cunning can assist me much. +There is a lord will hear you play to-night: +But I am doubtful of your modesties; +Lest over-eyeing of his odd behavior,-- +For yet his honour never heard a play-- +You break into some merry passion +And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs, +If you should smile he grows impatient. +A Player +Fear not, my lord: we can contain ourselves, +Were he the veriest antic in the world. +Lord +Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, +And give them friendly welcome every one: +Let them want nothing that my house affords. +Exit one with the Players + +Sirrah, go you to Barthol'mew my page, +And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady: +That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber; +And call him 'madam,' do him obeisance. +Tell him from me, as he will win my love, +He bear himself with honourable action, +Such as he hath observed in noble ladies +Unto their lords, by them accomplished: +Such duty to the drunkard let him do +With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy, +And say 'What is't your honour will command, +Wherein your lady and your humble wife +May show her duty and make known her love?' +And then with kind embracements, tempting kisses, +And with declining head into his bosom, +Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd +To see her noble lord restored to health, +Who for this seven years hath esteem'd him +No better than a poor and loathsome beggar: +And if the boy have not a woman's gift +To rain a shower of commanded tears, +An onion will do well for such a shift, +Which in a napkin being close convey'd +Shall in despite enforce a watery eye. +See this dispatch'd with all the haste thou canst: +Anon I'll give thee more instructions. +Exit a Servingman + +I know the boy will well usurp the grace, +Voice, gait and action of a gentlewoman: +I long to hear him call the drunkard husband, +And how my men will stay themselves from laughter +When they do homage to this simple peasant. +I'll in to counsel them; haply my presence +May well abate the over-merry spleen +Which otherwise would grow into extremes. +Exeunt + +SCENE II. A bedchamber in the Lord's house. +Enter aloft SLY, with Attendants; some with apparel, others with basin and ewer and appurtenances; and Lord +SLY +For God's sake, a pot of small ale. +First Servant +Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack? +Second Servant +Will't please your honour taste of these conserves? +Third Servant +What raiment will your honour wear to-day? +SLY +I am Christophero Sly; call not me 'honour' nor +'lordship:' I ne'er drank sack in my life; and if +you give me any conserves, give me conserves of +beef: ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear; for I +have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings +than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay, +sometimes more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my +toes look through the over-leather. +Lord +Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour! +O, that a mighty man of such descent, +Of such possessions and so high esteem, +Should be infused with so foul a spirit! +SLY +What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher +Sly, old Sly's son of Burtonheath, by birth a +pedlar, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a +bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker? +Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if +she know me not: if she say I am not fourteen pence +on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the +lyingest knave in Christendom. What! I am not +bestraught: here's-- +Third Servant +O, this it is that makes your lady mourn! +Second Servant +O, this is it that makes your servants droop! +Lord +Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house, +As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. +O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth, +Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment +And banish hence these abject lowly dreams. +Look how thy servants do attend on thee, +Each in his office ready at thy beck. +Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays, +Music + +And twenty caged nightingales do sing: +Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch +Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed +On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. +Say thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground: +Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd, +Their harness studded all with gold and pearl. +Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar +Above the morning lark or wilt thou hunt? +Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them +And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. +First Servant +Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift +As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. +Second Servant +Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight +Adonis painted by a running brook, +And Cytherea all in sedges hid, +Which seem to move and wanton with her breath, +Even as the waving sedges play with wind. +Lord +We'll show thee Io as she was a maid, +And how she was beguiled and surprised, +As lively painted as the deed was done. +Third Servant +Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood, +Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds, +And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep, +So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. +Lord +Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord: +Thou hast a lady far more beautiful +Than any woman in this waning age. +First Servant +And till the tears that she hath shed for thee +Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face, +She was the fairest creature in the world; +And yet she is inferior to none. +SLY +Am I a lord? and have I such a lady? +Or do I dream? or have I dream'd till now? +I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak; +I smell sweet savours and I feel soft things: +Upon my life, I am a lord indeed +And not a tinker nor Christophero Sly. +Well, bring our lady hither to our sight; +And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale. +Second Servant +Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands? +O, how we joy to see your wit restored! +O, that once more you knew but what you are! +These fifteen years you have been in a dream; +Or when you waked, so waked as if you slept. +SLY +These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap. +But did I never speak of all that time? +First Servant +O, yes, my lord, but very idle words: +For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, +Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door; +And rail upon the hostess of the house; +And say you would present her at the leet, +Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts: +Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket. +SLY +Ay, the woman's maid of the house. +Third Servant +Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid, +Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up, +As Stephen Sly and did John Naps of Greece +And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell +And twenty more such names and men as these +Which never were nor no man ever saw. +SLY +Now Lord be thanked for my good amends! +ALL +Amen. +SLY +I thank thee: thou shalt not lose by it. +Enter the Page as a lady, with attendants + +Page +How fares my noble lord? +SLY +Marry, I fare well for here is cheer enough. +Where is my wife? +Page +Here, noble lord: what is thy will with her? +SLY +Are you my wife and will not call me husband? +My men should call me 'lord:' I am your goodman. +Page +My husband and my lord, my lord and husband; +I am your wife in all obedience. +SLY +I know it well. What must I call her? +Lord +Madam. +SLY +Al'ce madam, or Joan madam? +Lord +'Madam,' and nothing else: so lords +call ladies. +SLY +Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd +And slept above some fifteen year or more. +Page +Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me, +Being all this time abandon'd from your bed. +SLY +'Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone. +Madam, undress you and come now to bed. +Page +Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you +To pardon me yet for a night or two, +Or, if not so, until the sun be set: +For your physicians have expressly charged, +In peril to incur your former malady, +That I should yet absent me from your bed: +I hope this reason stands for my excuse. +SLY +Ay, it stands so that I may hardly +tarry so long. But I would be loath to fall into +my dreams again: I will therefore tarry in +despite of the flesh and the blood. +Enter a Messenger + +Messenger +Your honour's players, heating your amendment, +Are come to play a pleasant comedy; +For so your doctors hold it very meet, +Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood, +And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy: +Therefore they thought it good you hear a play +And frame your mind to mirth and merriment, +Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life. +SLY +Marry, I will, let them play it. Is not a +comondy a Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick? +Page +No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff. +SLY +What, household stuff? +Page +It is a kind of history. +SLY +Well, well see't. Come, madam wife, sit by my side +and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger. +Flourish + +ACT I +SCENE I. Padua. A public place. +Enter LUCENTIO and his man TRANIO +LUCENTIO +Tranio, since for the great desire I had +To see fair Padua, nursery of arts, +I am arrived for fruitful Lombardy, +The pleasant garden of great Italy; +And by my father's love and leave am arm'd +With his good will and thy good company, +My trusty servant, well approved in all, +Here let us breathe and haply institute +A course of learning and ingenious studies. +Pisa renown'd for grave citizens +Gave me my being and my father first, +A merchant of great traffic through the world, +Vincetino come of Bentivolii. +Vincetino's son brought up in Florence +It shall become to serve all hopes conceived, +To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds: +And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study, +Virtue and that part of philosophy +Will I apply that treats of happiness +By virtue specially to be achieved. +Tell me thy mind; for I have Pisa left +And am to Padua come, as he that leaves +A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep +And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst. +TRANIO +Mi perdonato, gentle master mine, +I am in all affected as yourself; +Glad that you thus continue your resolve +To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy. +Only, good master, while we do admire +This virtue and this moral discipline, +Let's be no stoics nor no stocks, I pray; +Or so devote to Aristotle's cheques +As Ovid be an outcast quite abjured: +Balk logic with acquaintance that you have +And practise rhetoric in your common talk; +Music and poesy use to quicken you; +The mathematics and the metaphysics, +Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you; +No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en: +In brief, sir, study what you most affect. +LUCENTIO +Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise. +If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore, +We could at once put us in readiness, +And take a lodging fit to entertain +Such friends as time in Padua shall beget. +But stay a while: what company is this? +TRANIO +Master, some show to welcome us to town. +Enter BAPTISTA, KATHARINA, BIANCA, GREMIO, and HORTENSIO. LUCENTIO and TRANIO stand by + +BAPTISTA +Gentlemen, importune me no farther, +For how I firmly am resolved you know; +That is, not bestow my youngest daughter +Before I have a husband for the elder: +If either of you both love Katharina, +Because I know you well and love you well, +Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure. +GREMIO +[Aside] To cart her rather: she's too rough for me. +There, There, Hortensio, will you any wife? +KATHARINA +I pray you, sir, is it your will +To make a stale of me amongst these mates? +HORTENSIO +Mates, maid! how mean you that? no mates for you, +Unless you were of gentler, milder mould. +KATHARINA +I'faith, sir, you shall never need to fear: +I wis it is not half way to her heart; +But if it were, doubt not her care should be +To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool +And paint your face and use you like a fool. +HORTENSIA +From all such devils, good Lord deliver us! +GREMIO +And me too, good Lord! +TRANIO +Hush, master! here's some good pastime toward: +That wench is stark mad or wonderful froward. +LUCENTIO +But in the other's silence do I see +Maid's mild behavior and sobriety. +Peace, Tranio! +TRANIO +Well said, master; mum! and gaze your fill. +BAPTISTA +Gentlemen, that I may soon make good +What I have said, Bianca, get you in: +And let it not displease thee, good Bianca, +For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl. +KATHARINA +A pretty peat! it is best +Put finger in the eye, an she knew why. +BIANCA +Sister, content you in my discontent. +Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe: +My books and instruments shall be my company, +On them to took and practise by myself. +LUCENTIO +Hark, Tranio! thou may'st hear Minerva speak. +HORTENSIO +Signior Baptista, will you be so strange? +Sorry am I that our good will effects +Bianca's grief. +GREMIO +Why will you mew her up, +Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell, +And make her bear the penance of her tongue? +BAPTISTA +Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolved: +Go in, Bianca: +Exit BIANCA + +And for I know she taketh most delight +In music, instruments and poetry, +Schoolmasters will I keep within my house, +Fit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio, +Or Signior Gremio, you, know any such, +Prefer them hither; for to cunning men +I will be very kind, and liberal +To mine own children in good bringing up: +And so farewell. Katharina, you may stay; +For I have more to commune with Bianca. +Exit + +KATHARINA +Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not? What, +shall I be appointed hours; as though, belike, I +knew not what to take and what to leave, ha? +Exit + +GREMIO +You may go to the devil's dam: your gifts are so +good, here's none will hold you. Their love is not +so great, Hortensio, but we may blow our nails +together, and fast it fairly out: our cakes dough on +both sides. Farewell: yet for the love I bear my +sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit +man to teach her that wherein she delights, I will +wish him to her father. +HORTENSIO +So will I, Signior Gremio: but a word, I pray. +Though the nature of our quarrel yet never brooked +parle, know now, upon advice, it toucheth us both, +that we may yet again have access to our fair +mistress and be happy rivals in Bianco's love, to +labour and effect one thing specially. +GREMIO +What's that, I pray? +HORTENSIO +Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister. +GREMIO +A husband! a devil. +HORTENSIO +I say, a husband. +GREMIO +I say, a devil. Thinkest thou, Hortensio, though +her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool +to be married to hell? +HORTENSIO +Tush, Gremio, though it pass your patience and mine +to endure her loud alarums, why, man, there be good +fellows in the world, an a man could light on them, +would take her with all faults, and money enough. +GREMIO +I cannot tell; but I had as lief take her dowry with +this condition, to be whipped at the high cross +every morning. +HORTENSIO +Faith, as you say, there's small choice in rotten +apples. But come; since this bar in law makes us +friends, it shall be so far forth friendly +maintained all by helping Baptista's eldest daughter +to a husband we set his youngest free for a husband, +and then have to't a fresh. Sweet Bianca! Happy man +be his dole! He that runs fastest gets the ring. +How say you, Signior Gremio? +GREMIO +I am agreed; and would I had given him the best +horse in Padua to begin his wooing that would +thoroughly woo her, wed her and bed her and rid the +house of her! Come on. +Exeunt GREMIO and HORTENSIO + +TRANIO +I pray, sir, tell me, is it possible +That love should of a sudden take such hold? +LUCENTIO +O Tranio, till I found it to be true, +I never thought it possible or likely; +But see, while idly I stood looking on, +I found the effect of love in idleness: +And now in plainness do confess to thee, +That art to me as secret and as dear +As Anna to the queen of Carthage was, +Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio, +If I achieve not this young modest girl. +Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst; +Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt. +TRANIO +Master, it is no time to chide you now; +Affection is not rated from the heart: +If love have touch'd you, nought remains but so, +'Redime te captum quam queas minimo.' +LUCENTIO +Gramercies, lad, go forward; this contents: +The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound. +TRANIO +Master, you look'd so longly on the maid, +Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all. +LUCENTIO +O yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face, +Such as the daughter of Agenor had, +That made great Jove to humble him to her hand. +When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand. +TRANIO +Saw you no more? mark'd you not how her sister +Began to scold and raise up such a storm +That mortal ears might hardly endure the din? +LUCENTIO +Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move +And with her breath she did perfume the air: +Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her. +TRANIO +Nay, then, 'tis time to stir him from his trance. +I pray, awake, sir: if you love the maid, +Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her. Thus it stands: +Her eldest sister is so curst and shrewd +That till the father rid his hands of her, +Master, your love must live a maid at home; +And therefore has he closely mew'd her up, +Because she will not be annoy'd with suitors. +LUCENTIO +Ah, Tranio, what a cruel father's he! +But art thou not advised, he took some care +To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her? +TRANIO +Ay, marry, am I, sir; and now 'tis plotted. +LUCENTIO +I have it, Tranio. +TRANIO +Master, for my hand, +Both our inventions meet and jump in one. +LUCENTIO +Tell me thine first. +TRANIO +You will be schoolmaster +And undertake the teaching of the maid: +That's your device. +LUCENTIO +It is: may it be done? +TRANIO +Not possible; for who shall bear your part, +And be in Padua here Vincentio's son, +Keep house and ply his book, welcome his friends, +Visit his countrymen and banquet them? +LUCENTIO +Basta; content thee, for I have it full. +We have not yet been seen in any house, +Nor can we lie distinguish'd by our faces +For man or master; then it follows thus; +Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead, +Keep house and port and servants as I should: +I will some other be, some Florentine, +Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa. +'Tis hatch'd and shall be so: Tranio, at once +Uncase thee; take my colour'd hat and cloak: +When Biondello comes, he waits on thee; +But I will charm him first to keep his tongue. +TRANIO +So had you need. +In brief, sir, sith it your pleasure is, +And I am tied to be obedient; +For so your father charged me at our parting, +'Be serviceable to my son,' quoth he, +Although I think 'twas in another sense; +I am content to be Lucentio, +Because so well I love Lucentio. +LUCENTIO +Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves: +And let me be a slave, to achieve that maid +Whose sudden sight hath thrall'd my wounded eye. +Here comes the rogue. +Enter BIONDELLO + +Sirrah, where have you been? +BIONDELLO +Where have I been! Nay, how now! where are you? +Master, has my fellow Tranio stolen your clothes? Or +you stolen his? or both? pray, what's the news? +LUCENTIO +Sirrah, come hither: 'tis no time to jest, +And therefore frame your manners to the time. +Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life, +Puts my apparel and my countenance on, +And I for my escape have put on his; +For in a quarrel since I came ashore +I kill'd a man and fear I was descried: +Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes, +While I make way from hence to save my life: +You understand me? +BIONDELLO +I, sir! ne'er a whit. +LUCENTIO +And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth: +Tranio is changed into Lucentio. +BIONDELLO +The better for him: would I were so too! +TRANIO +So could I, faith, boy, to have the next wish after, +That Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngest daughter. +But, sirrah, not for my sake, but your master's, I advise +You use your manners discreetly in all kind of companies: +When I am alone, why, then I am Tranio; +But in all places else your master Lucentio. +LUCENTIO +Tranio, let's go: one thing more rests, that +thyself execute, to make one among these wooers: if +thou ask me why, sufficeth, my reasons are both good +and weighty. +Exeunt + +The presenters above speak + +First Servant +My lord, you nod; you do not mind the play. +SLY +Yes, by Saint Anne, do I. A good matter, surely: +comes there any more of it? +Page +My lord, 'tis but begun. +SLY +'Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady: +would 'twere done! +They sit and mark + +SCENE II. Padua. Before HORTENSIO'S house. +Enter PETRUCHIO and his man GRUMIO +PETRUCHIO +Verona, for a while I take my leave, +To see my friends in Padua, but of all +My best beloved and approved friend, +Hortensio; and I trow this is his house. +Here, sirrah Grumio; knock, I say. +GRUMIO +Knock, sir! whom should I knock? is there man has +rebused your worship? +PETRUCHIO +Villain, I say, knock me here soundly. +GRUMIO +Knock you here, sir! why, sir, what am I, sir, that +I should knock you here, sir? +PETRUCHIO +Villain, I say, knock me at this gate +And rap me well, or I'll knock your knave's pate. +GRUMIO +My master is grown quarrelsome. I should knock +you first, +And then I know after who comes by the worst. +PETRUCHIO +Will it not be? +Faith, sirrah, an you'll not knock, I'll ring it; +I'll try how you can sol, fa, and sing it. +He wrings him by the ears + +GRUMIO +Help, masters, help! my master is mad. +PETRUCHIO +Now, knock when I bid you, sirrah villain! +Enter HORTENSIO + +HORTENSIO +How now! what's the matter? My old friend Grumio! +and my good friend Petruchio! How do you all at Verona? +PETRUCHIO +Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray? +'Con tutto il cuore, ben trovato,' may I say. +HORTENSIO +'Alla nostra casa ben venuto, molto honorato signor +mio Petruchio.' Rise, Grumio, rise: we will compound +this quarrel. +GRUMIO +Nay, 'tis no matter, sir, what he 'leges in Latin. +if this be not a lawful case for me to leave his +service, look you, sir, he bid me knock him and rap +him soundly, sir: well, was it fit for a servant to +use his master so, being perhaps, for aught I see, +two and thirty, a pip out? Whom would to God I had +well knock'd at first, Then had not Grumio come by the worst. +PETRUCHIO +A senseless villain! Good Hortensio, +I bade the rascal knock upon your gate +And could not get him for my heart to do it. +GRUMIO +Knock at the gate! O heavens! Spake you not these +words plain, 'Sirrah, knock me here, rap me here, +knock me well, and knock me soundly'? And come you +now with, 'knocking at the gate'? +PETRUCHIO +Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you. +HORTENSIO +Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio's pledge: +Why, this's a heavy chance 'twixt him and you, +Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio. +And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy gale +Blows you to Padua here from old Verona? +PETRUCHIO +Such wind as scatters young men through the world, +To seek their fortunes farther than at home +Where small experience grows. But in a few, +Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me: +Antonio, my father, is deceased; +And I have thrust myself into this maze, +Haply to wive and thrive as best I may: +Crowns in my purse I have and goods at home, +And so am come abroad to see the world. +HORTENSIO +Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee +And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour'd wife? +Thou'ldst thank me but a little for my counsel: +And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich +And very rich: but thou'rt too much my friend, +And I'll not wish thee to her. +PETRUCHIO +Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as we +Few words suffice; and therefore, if thou know +One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife, +As wealth is burden of my wooing dance, +Be she as foul as was Florentius' love, +As old as Sibyl and as curst and shrewd +As Socrates' Xanthippe, or a worse, +She moves me not, or not removes, at least, +Affection's edge in me, were she as rough +As are the swelling Adriatic seas: +I come to wive it wealthily in Padua; +If wealthily, then happily in Padua. +GRUMIO +Nay, look you, sir, he tells you flatly what his +mind is: Why give him gold enough and marry him to +a puppet or an aglet-baby; or an old trot with ne'er +a tooth in her head, though she have as many diseases +as two and fifty horses: why, nothing comes amiss, +so money comes withal. +HORTENSIO +Petruchio, since we are stepp'd thus far in, +I will continue that I broach'd in jest. +I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife +With wealth enough and young and beauteous, +Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman: +Her only fault, and that is faults enough, +Is that she is intolerable curst +And shrewd and froward, so beyond all measure +That, were my state far worser than it is, +I would not wed her for a mine of gold. +PETRUCHIO +Hortensio, peace! thou know'st not gold's effect: +Tell me her father's name and 'tis enough; +For I will board her, though she chide as loud +As thunder when the clouds in autumn crack. +HORTENSIO +Her father is Baptista Minola, +An affable and courteous gentleman: +Her name is Katharina Minola, +Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue. +PETRUCHIO +I know her father, though I know not her; +And he knew my deceased father well. +I will not sleep, Hortensio, till I see her; +And therefore let me be thus bold with you +To give you over at this first encounter, +Unless you will accompany me thither. +GRUMIO +I pray you, sir, let him go while the humour lasts. +O' my word, an she knew him as well as I do, she +would think scolding would do little good upon him: +she may perhaps call him half a score knaves or so: +why, that's nothing; an he begin once, he'll rail in +his rope-tricks. I'll tell you what sir, an she +stand him but a little, he will throw a figure in +her face and so disfigure her with it that she +shall have no more eyes to see withal than a cat. +You know him not, sir. +HORTENSIO +Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee, +For in Baptista's keep my treasure is: +He hath the jewel of my life in hold, +His youngest daughter, beautiful Binaca, +And her withholds from me and other more, +Suitors to her and rivals in my love, +Supposing it a thing impossible, +For those defects I have before rehearsed, +That ever Katharina will be woo'd; +Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en, +That none shall have access unto Bianca +Till Katharina the curst have got a husband. +GRUMIO +Katharina the curst! +A title for a maid of all titles the worst. +HORTENSIO +Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace, +And offer me disguised in sober robes +To old Baptista as a schoolmaster +Well seen in music, to instruct Bianca; +That so I may, by this device, at least +Have leave and leisure to make love to her +And unsuspected court her by herself. +GRUMIO +Here's no knavery! See, to beguile the old folks, +how the young folks lay their heads together! +Enter GREMIO, and LUCENTIO disguised + +Master, master, look about you: who goes there, ha? +HORTENSIO +Peace, Grumio! it is the rival of my love. +Petruchio, stand by a while. +GRUMIO +A proper stripling and an amorous! +GREMIO +O, very well; I have perused the note. +Hark you, sir: I'll have them very fairly bound: +All books of love, see that at any hand; +And see you read no other lectures to her: +You understand me: over and beside +Signior Baptista's liberality, +I'll mend it with a largess. Take your paper too, +And let me have them very well perfumed +For she is sweeter than perfume itself +To whom they go to. What will you read to her? +LUCENTIO +Whate'er I read to her, I'll plead for you +As for my patron, stand you so assured, +As firmly as yourself were still in place: +Yea, and perhaps with more successful words +Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir. +GREMIO +O this learning, what a thing it is! +GRUMIO +O this woodcock, what an ass it is! +PETRUCHIO +Peace, sirrah! +HORTENSIO +Grumio, mum! God save you, Signior Gremio. +GREMIO +And you are well met, Signior Hortensio. +Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola. +I promised to inquire carefully +About a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca: +And by good fortune I have lighted well +On this young man, for learning and behavior +Fit for her turn, well read in poetry +And other books, good ones, I warrant ye. +HORTENSIO +'Tis well; and I have met a gentleman +Hath promised me to help me to another, +A fine musician to instruct our mistress; +So shall I no whit be behind in duty +To fair Bianca, so beloved of me. +GREMIO +Beloved of me; and that my deeds shall prove. +GRUMIO +And that his bags shall prove. +HORTENSIO +Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our love: +Listen to me, and if you speak me fair, +I'll tell you news indifferent good for either. +Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met, +Upon agreement from us to his liking, +Will undertake to woo curst Katharina, +Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please. +GREMIO +So said, so done, is well. +Hortensio, have you told him all her faults? +PETRUCHIO +I know she is an irksome brawling scold: +If that be all, masters, I hear no harm. +GREMIO +No, say'st me so, friend? What countryman? +PETRUCHIO +Born in Verona, old Antonio's son: +My father dead, my fortune lives for me; +And I do hope good days and long to see. +GREMIO +O sir, such a life, with such a wife, were strange! +But if you have a stomach, to't i' God's name: +You shall have me assisting you in all. +But will you woo this wild-cat? +PETRUCHIO +Will I live? +GRUMIO +Will he woo her? ay, or I'll hang her. +PETRUCHIO +Why came I hither but to that intent? +Think you a little din can daunt mine ears? +Have I not in my time heard lions roar? +Have I not heard the sea puff'd up with winds +Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? +Have I not heard great ordnance in the field, +And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? +Have I not in a pitched battle heard +Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang? +And do you tell me of a woman's tongue, +That gives not half so great a blow to hear +As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire? +Tush, tush! fear boys with bugs. +GRUMIO +For he fears none. +GREMIO +Hortensio, hark: +This gentleman is happily arrived, +My mind presumes, for his own good and ours. +HORTENSIO +I promised we would be contributors +And bear his charging of wooing, whatsoe'er. +GREMIO +And so we will, provided that he win her. +GRUMIO +I would I were as sure of a good dinner. +Enter TRANIO brave, and BIONDELLO + +TRANIO +Gentlemen, God save you. If I may be bold, +Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest way +To the house of Signior Baptista Minola? +BIONDELLO +He that has the two fair daughters: is't he you mean? +TRANIO +Even he, Biondello. +GREMIO +Hark you, sir; you mean not her to-- +TRANIO +Perhaps, him and her, sir: what have you to do? +PETRUCHIO +Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, I pray. +TRANIO +I love no chiders, sir. Biondello, let's away. +LUCENTIO +Well begun, Tranio. +HORTENSIO +Sir, a word ere you go; +Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea or no? +TRANIO +And if I be, sir, is it any offence? +GREMIO +No; if without more words you will get you hence. +TRANIO +Why, sir, I pray, are not the streets as free +For me as for you? +GREMIO +But so is not she. +TRANIO +For what reason, I beseech you? +GREMIO +For this reason, if you'll know, +That she's the choice love of Signior Gremio. +HORTENSIO +That she's the chosen of Signior Hortensio. +TRANIO +Softly, my masters! if you be gentlemen, +Do me this right; hear me with patience. +Baptista is a noble gentleman, +To whom my father is not all unknown; +And were his daughter fairer than she is, +She may more suitors have and me for one. +Fair Leda's daughter had a thousand wooers; +Then well one more may fair Bianca have: +And so she shall; Lucentio shall make one, +Though Paris came in hope to speed alone. +GREMIO +What! this gentleman will out-talk us all. +LUCENTIO +Sir, give him head: I know he'll prove a jade. +PETRUCHIO +Hortensio, to what end are all these words? +HORTENSIO +Sir, let me be so bold as ask you, +Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter? +TRANIO +No, sir; but hear I do that he hath two, +The one as famous for a scolding tongue +As is the other for beauteous modesty. +PETRUCHIO +Sir, sir, the first's for me; let her go by. +GREMIO +Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules; +And let it be more than Alcides' twelve. +PETRUCHIO +Sir, understand you this of me in sooth: +The younges t daughter whom you hearken for +Her father keeps from all access of suitors, +And will not promise her to any man +Until the elder sister first be wed: +The younger then is free and not before. +TRANIO +If it be so, sir, that you are the man +Must stead us all and me amongst the rest, +And if you break the ice and do this feat, +Achieve the elder, set the younger free +For our access, whose hap shall be to have her +Will not so graceless be to be ingrate. +HORTENSIO +Sir, you say well and well you do conceive; +And since you do profess to be a suitor, +You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman, +To whom we all rest generally beholding. +TRANIO +Sir, I shall not be slack: in sign whereof, +Please ye we may contrive this afternoon, +And quaff carouses to our mistress' health, +And do as adversaries do in law, +Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. +GRUMIO BIONDELLO +O excellent motion! Fellows, let's be gone. +HORTENSIO +The motion's good indeed and be it so, +Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto. +Exeunt + +ACT II +SCENE I. Padua. A room in BAPTISTA'S house. +Enter KATHARINA and BIANCA +BIANCA +Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself, +To make a bondmaid and a slave of me; +That I disdain: but for these other gawds, +Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myself, +Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat; +Or what you will command me will I do, +So well I know my duty to my elders. +KATHARINA +Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee, tell +Whom thou lovest best: see thou dissemble not. +BIANCA +Believe me, sister, of all the men alive +I never yet beheld that special face +Which I could fancy more than any other. +KATHARINA +Minion, thou liest. Is't not Hortensio? +BIANCA +If you affect him, sister, here I swear +I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have +him. +KATHARINA +O then, belike, you fancy riches more: +You will have Gremio to keep you fair. +BIANCA +Is it for him you do envy me so? +Nay then you jest, and now I well perceive +You have but jested with me all this while: +I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands. +KATHARINA +If that be jest, then all the rest was so. +Strikes her + +Enter BAPTISTA + +BAPTISTA +Why, how now, dame! whence grows this insolence? +Bianca, stand aside. Poor girl! she weeps. +Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her. +For shame, thou helding of a devilish spirit, +Why dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee? +When did she cross thee with a bitter word? +KATHARINA +Her silence flouts me, and I'll be revenged. +Flies after BIANCA + +BAPTISTA +What, in my sight? Bianca, get thee in. +Exit BIANCA + +KATHARINA +What, will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see +She is your treasure, she must have a husband; +I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day +And for your love to her lead apes in hell. +Talk not to me: I will go sit and weep +Till I can find occasion of revenge. +Exit + +BAPTISTA +Was ever gentleman thus grieved as I? +But who comes here? +Enter GREMIO, LUCENTIO in the habit of a mean man; PETRUCHIO, with HORTENSIO as a musician; and TRANIO, with BIONDELLO bearing a lute and books + +GREMIO +Good morrow, neighbour Baptista. +BAPTISTA +Good morrow, neighbour Gremio. +God save you, gentlemen! +PETRUCHIO +And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter +Call'd Katharina, fair and virtuous? +BAPTISTA +I have a daughter, sir, called Katharina. +GREMIO +You are too blunt: go to it orderly. +PETRUCHIO +You wrong me, Signior Gremio: give me leave. +I am a gentleman of Verona, sir, +That, hearing of her beauty and her wit, +Her affability and bashful modesty, +Her wondrous qualities and mild behavior, +Am bold to show myself a forward guest +Within your house, to make mine eye the witness +Of that report which I so oft have heard. +And, for an entrance to my entertainment, +I do present you with a man of mine, +Presenting HORTENSIO + +Cunning in music and the mathematics, +To instruct her fully in those sciences, +Whereof I know she is not ignorant: +Accept of him, or else you do me wrong: +His name is Licio, born in Mantua. +BAPTISTA +You're welcome, sir; and he, for your good sake. +But for my daughter Katharina, this I know, +She is not for your turn, the more my grief. +PETRUCHIO +I see you do not mean to part with her, +Or else you like not of my company. +BAPTISTA +Mistake me not; I speak but as I find. +Whence are you, sir? what may I call your name? +PETRUCHIO +Petruchio is my name; Antonio's son, +A man well known throughout all Italy. +BAPTISTA +I know him well: you are welcome for his sake. +GREMIO +Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray, +Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too: +Baccare! you are marvellous forward. +PETRUCHIO +O, pardon me, Signior Gremio; I would fain be doing. +GREMIO +I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your +wooing. Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am +sure of it. To express the like kindness, myself, +that have been more kindly beholding to you than +any, freely give unto you this young scholar, +Presenting LUCENTIO + +that hath been long studying at Rheims; as cunning +in Greek, Latin, and other languages, as the other +in music and mathematics: his name is Cambio; pray, +accept his service. +BAPTISTA +A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio. +Welcome, good Cambio. +To TRANIO + +But, gentle sir, methinks you walk like a stranger: +may I be so bold to know the cause of your coming? +TRANIO +Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own, +That, being a stranger in this city here, +Do make myself a suitor to your daughter, +Unto Bianca, fair and virtuous. +Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me, +In the preferment of the eldest sister. +This liberty is all that I request, +That, upon knowledge of my parentage, +I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo +And free access and favour as the rest: +And, toward the education of your daughters, +I here bestow a simple instrument, +And this small packet of Greek and Latin books: +If you accept them, then their worth is great. +BAPTISTA +Lucentio is your name; of whence, I pray? +TRANIO +Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio. +BAPTISTA +A mighty man of Pisa; by report +I know him well: you are very welcome, sir, +Take you the lute, and you the set of books; +You shall go see your pupils presently. +Holla, within! +Enter a Servant + +Sirrah, lead these gentlemen +To my daughters; and tell them both, +These are their tutors: bid them use them well. +Exit Servant, with LUCENTIO and HORTENSIO, BIONDELLO following + +We will go walk a little in the orchard, +And then to dinner. You are passing welcome, +And so I pray you all to think yourselves. +PETRUCHIO +Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste, +And every day I cannot come to woo. +You knew my father well, and in him me, +Left solely heir to all his lands and goods, +Which I have better'd rather than decreased: +Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love, +What dowry shall I have with her to wife? +BAPTISTA +After my death the one half of my lands, +And in possession twenty thousand crowns. +PETRUCHIO +And, for that dowry, I'll assure her of +Her widowhood, be it that she survive me, +In all my lands and leases whatsoever: +Let specialties be therefore drawn between us, +That covenants may be kept on either hand. +BAPTISTA +Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd, +That is, her love; for that is all in all. +PETRUCHIO +Why, that is nothing: for I tell you, father, +I am as peremptory as she proud-minded; +And where two raging fires meet together +They do consume the thing that feeds their fury: +Though little fire grows great with little wind, +Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all: +So I to her and so she yields to me; +For I am rough and woo not like a babe. +BAPTISTA +Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed! +But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words. +PETRUCHIO +Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds, +That shake not, though they blow perpetually. +Re-enter HORTENSIO, with his head broke + +BAPTISTA +How now, my friend! why dost thou look so pale? +HORTENSIO +For fear, I promise you, if I look pale. +BAPTISTA +What, will my daughter prove a good musician? +HORTENSIO +I think she'll sooner prove a soldier +Iron may hold with her, but never lutes. +BAPTISTA +Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute? +HORTENSIO +Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me. +I did but tell her she mistook her frets, +And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering; +When, with a most impatient devilish spirit, +'Frets, call you these?' quoth she; 'I'll fume +with them:' +And, with that word, she struck me on the head, +And through the instrument my pate made way; +And there I stood amazed for a while, +As on a pillory, looking through the lute; +While she did call me rascal fiddler +And twangling Jack; with twenty such vile terms, +As had she studied to misuse me so. +PETRUCHIO +Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench; +I love her ten times more than e'er I did: +O, how I long to have some chat with her! +BAPTISTA +Well, go with me and be not so discomfited: +Proceed in practise with my younger daughter; +She's apt to learn and thankful for good turns. +Signior Petruchio, will you go with us, +Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you? +PETRUCHIO +I pray you do. +Exeunt all but PETRUCHIO + +I will attend her here, +And woo her with some spirit when she comes. +Say that she rail; why then I'll tell her plain +She sings as sweetly as a nightingale: +Say that she frown, I'll say she looks as clear +As morning roses newly wash'd with dew: +Say she be mute and will not speak a word; +Then I'll commend her volubility, +And say she uttereth piercing eloquence: +If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks, +As though she bid me stay by her a week: +If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day +When I shall ask the banns and when be married. +But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak. +Enter KATHARINA + +Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear. +KATHARINA +Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing: +They call me Katharina that do talk of me. +PETRUCHIO +You lie, in faith; for you are call'd plain Kate, +And bonny Kate and sometimes Kate the curst; +But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom +Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate, +For dainties are all Kates, and therefore, Kate, +Take this of me, Kate of my consolation; +Hearing thy mildness praised in every town, +Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded, +Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs, +Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife. +KATHARINA +Moved! in good time: let him that moved you hither +Remove you hence: I knew you at the first +You were a moveable. +PETRUCHIO +Why, what's a moveable? +KATHARINA +A join'd-stool. +PETRUCHIO +Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me. +KATHARINA +Asses are made to bear, and so are you. +PETRUCHIO +Women are made to bear, and so are you. +KATHARINA +No such jade as you, if me you mean. +PETRUCHIO +Alas! good Kate, I will not burden thee; +For, knowing thee to be but young and light-- +KATHARINA +Too light for such a swain as you to catch; +And yet as heavy as my weight should be. +PETRUCHIO +Should be! should--buzz! +KATHARINA +Well ta'en, and like a buzzard. +PETRUCHIO +O slow-wing'd turtle! shall a buzzard take thee? +KATHARINA +Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard. +PETRUCHIO +Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry. +KATHARINA +If I be waspish, best beware my sting. +PETRUCHIO +My remedy is then, to pluck it out. +KATHARINA +Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies, +PETRUCHIO +Who knows not where a wasp does +wear his sting? In his tail. +KATHARINA +In his tongue. +PETRUCHIO +Whose tongue? +KATHARINA +Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell. +PETRUCHIO +What, with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again, +Good Kate; I am a gentleman. +KATHARINA +That I'll try. +She strikes him + +PETRUCHIO +I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again. +KATHARINA +So may you lose your arms: +If you strike me, you are no gentleman; +And if no gentleman, why then no arms. +PETRUCHIO +A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books! +KATHARINA +What is your crest? a coxcomb? +PETRUCHIO +A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen. +KATHARINA +No cock of mine; you crow too like a craven. +PETRUCHIO +Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour. +KATHARINA +It is my fashion, when I see a crab. +PETRUCHIO +Why, here's no crab; and therefore look not sour. +KATHARINA +There is, there is. +PETRUCHIO +Then show it me. +KATHARINA +Had I a glass, I would. +PETRUCHIO +What, you mean my face? +KATHARINA +Well aim'd of such a young one. +PETRUCHIO +Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you. +KATHARINA +Yet you are wither'd. +PETRUCHIO +'Tis with cares. +KATHARINA +I care not. +PETRUCHIO +Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth you scape not so. +KATHARINA +I chafe you, if I tarry: let me go. +PETRUCHIO +No, not a whit: I find you passing gentle. +'Twas told me you were rough and coy and sullen, +And now I find report a very liar; +For thou are pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous, +But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers: +Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance, +Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will, +Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk, +But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers, +With gentle conference, soft and affable. +Why does the world report that Kate doth limp? +O slanderous world! Kate like the hazel-twig +Is straight and slender and as brown in hue +As hazel nuts and sweeter than the kernels. +O, let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt. +KATHARINA +Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command. +PETRUCHIO +Did ever Dian so become a grove +As Kate this chamber with her princely gait? +O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate; +And then let Kate be chaste and Dian sportful! +KATHARINA +Where did you study all this goodly speech? +PETRUCHIO +It is extempore, from my mother-wit. +KATHARINA +A witty mother! witless else her son. +PETRUCHIO +Am I not wise? +KATHARINA +Yes; keep you warm. +PETRUCHIO +Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharina, in thy bed: +And therefore, setting all this chat aside, +Thus in plain terms: your father hath consented +That you shall be my wife; your dowry 'greed on; +And, Will you, nill you, I will marry you. +Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn; +For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty, +Thy beauty, that doth make me like thee well, +Thou must be married to no man but me; +For I am he am born to tame you Kate, +And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate +Conformable as other household Kates. +Here comes your father: never make denial; +I must and will have Katharina to my wife. +Re-enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, and TRANIO + +BAPTISTA +Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter? +PETRUCHIO +How but well, sir? how but well? +It were impossible I should speed amiss. +BAPTISTA +Why, how now, daughter Katharina! in your dumps? +KATHARINA +Call you me daughter? now, I promise you +You have show'd a tender fatherly regard, +To wish me wed to one half lunatic; +A mad-cup ruffian and a swearing Jack, +That thinks with oaths to face the matter out. +PETRUCHIO +Father, 'tis thus: yourself and all the world, +That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her: +If she be curst, it is for policy, +For she's not froward, but modest as the dove; +She is not hot, but temperate as the morn; +For patience she will prove a second Grissel, +And Roman Lucrece for her chastity: +And to conclude, we have 'greed so well together, +That upon Sunday is the wedding-day. +KATHARINA +I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first. +GREMIO +Hark, Petruchio; she says she'll see thee +hang'd first. +TRANIO +Is this your speeding? nay, then, good night our part! +PETRUCHIO +Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her for myself: +If she and I be pleased, what's that to you? +'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone, +That she shall still be curst in company. +I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe +How much she loves me: O, the kindest Kate! +She hung about my neck; and kiss on kiss +She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath, +That in a twink she won me to her love. +O, you are novices! 'tis a world to see, +How tame, when men and women are alone, +A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew. +Give me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice, +To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day. +Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests; +I will be sure my Katharina shall be fine. +BAPTISTA +I know not what to say: but give me your hands; +God send you joy, Petruchio! 'tis a match. +GREMIO TRANIO +Amen, say we: we will be witnesses. +PETRUCHIO +Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu; +I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace: +We will have rings and things and fine array; +And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o'Sunday. +Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHARINA severally + +GREMIO +Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly? +BAPTISTA +Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part, +And venture madly on a desperate mart. +TRANIO +'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you: +'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas. +BAPTISTA +The gain I seek is, quiet in the match. +GREMIO +No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch. +But now, Baptists, to your younger daughter: +Now is the day we long have looked for: +I am your neighbour, and was suitor first. +TRANIO +And I am one that love Bianca more +Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess. +GREMIO +Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I. +TRANIO +Graybeard, thy love doth freeze. +GREMIO +But thine doth fry. +Skipper, stand back: 'tis age that nourisheth. +TRANIO +But youth in ladies' eyes that flourisheth. +BAPTISTA +Content you, gentlemen: I will compound this strife: +'Tis deeds must win the prize; and he of both +That can assure my daughter greatest dower +Shall have my Bianca's love. +Say, Signior Gremio, What can you assure her? +GREMIO +First, as you know, my house within the city +Is richly furnished with plate and gold; +Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands; +My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry; +In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns; +In cypress chests my arras counterpoints, +Costly apparel, tents, and canopies, +Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl, +Valance of Venice gold in needlework, +Pewter and brass and all things that belong +To house or housekeeping: then, at my farm +I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail, +Sixscore fat oxen standing in my stalls, +And all things answerable to this portion. +Myself am struck in years, I must confess; +And if I die to-morrow, this is hers, +If whilst I live she will be only mine. +TRANIO +That 'only' came well in. Sir, list to me: +I am my father's heir and only son: +If I may have your daughter to my wife, +I'll leave her houses three or four as good, +Within rich Pisa walls, as any one +Old Signior Gremio has in Padua; +Besides two thousand ducats by the year +Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure. +What, have I pinch'd you, Signior Gremio? +GREMIO +Two thousand ducats by the year of land! +My land amounts not to so much in all: +That she shall have; besides an argosy +That now is lying in Marseilles' road. +What, have I choked you with an argosy? +TRANIO +Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less +Than three great argosies; besides two galliases, +And twelve tight galleys: these I will assure her, +And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'st next. +GREMIO +Nay, I have offer'd all, I have no more; +And she can have no more than all I have: +If you like me, she shall have me and mine. +TRANIO +Why, then the maid is mine from all the world, +By your firm promise: Gremio is out-vied. +BAPTISTA +I must confess your offer is the best; +And, let your father make her the assurance, +She is your own; else, you must pardon me, +if you should die before him, where's her dower? +TRANIO +That's but a cavil: he is old, I young. +GREMIO +And may not young men die, as well as old? +BAPTISTA +Well, gentlemen, +I am thus resolved: on Sunday next you know +My daughter Katharina is to be married: +Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca +Be bride to you, if you this assurance; +If not, Signior Gremio: +And so, I take my leave, and thank you both. +GREMIO +Adieu, good neighbour. +Exit BAPTISTA + +Now I fear thee not: +Sirrah young gamester, your father were a fool +To give thee all, and in his waning age +Set foot under thy table: tut, a toy! +An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. +Exit + +TRANIO +A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide! +Yet I have faced it with a card of ten. +'Tis in my head to do my master good: +I see no reason but supposed Lucentio +Must get a father, call'd 'supposed Vincentio;' +And that's a wonder: fathers commonly +Do get their children; but in this case of wooing, +A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning. +Exit + +ACT III +SCENE I. Padua. BAPTISTA'S house. +Enter LUCENTIO, HORTENSIO, and BIANCA +LUCENTIO +Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir: +Have you so soon forgot the entertainment +Her sister Katharina welcomed you withal? +HORTENSIO +But, wrangling pedant, this is +The patroness of heavenly harmony: +Then give me leave to have prerogative; +And when in music we have spent an hour, +Your lecture shall have leisure for as much. +LUCENTIO +Preposterous ass, that never read so far +To know the cause why music was ordain'd! +Was it not to refresh the mind of man +After his studies or his usual pain? +Then give me leave to read philosophy, +And while I pause, serve in your harmony. +HORTENSIO +Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine. +BIANCA +Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong, +To strive for that which resteth in my choice: +I am no breeching scholar in the schools; +I'll not be tied to hours nor 'pointed times, +But learn my lessons as I please myself. +And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down: +Take you your instrument, play you the whiles; +His lecture will be done ere you have tuned. +HORTENSIO +You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune? +LUCENTIO +That will be never: tune your instrument. +BIANCA +Where left we last? +LUCENTIO +Here, madam: +'Hic ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus; +Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.' +BIANCA +Construe them. +LUCENTIO +'Hic ibat,' as I told you before, 'Simois,' I am +Lucentio, 'hic est,' son unto Vincentio of Pisa, +'Sigeia tellus,' disguised thus to get your love; +'Hic steterat,' and that Lucentio that comes +a-wooing, 'Priami,' is my man Tranio, 'regia,' +bearing my port, 'celsa senis,' that we might +beguile the old pantaloon. +HORTENSIO +Madam, my instrument's in tune. +BIANCA +Let's hear. O fie! the treble jars. +LUCENTIO +Spit in the hole, man, and tune again. +BIANCA +Now let me see if I can construe it: 'Hic ibat +Simois,' I know you not, 'hic est Sigeia tellus,' I +trust you not; 'Hic steterat Priami,' take heed +he hear us not, 'regia,' presume not, 'celsa senis,' +despair not. +HORTENSIO +Madam, 'tis now in tune. +LUCENTIO +All but the base. +HORTENSIO +The base is right; 'tis the base knave that jars. +Aside + +How fiery and forward our pedant is! +Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love: +Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet. +BIANCA +In time I may believe, yet I mistrust. +LUCENTIO +Mistrust it not: for, sure, AEacides +Was Ajax, call'd so from his grandfather. +BIANCA +I must believe my master; else, I promise you, +I should be arguing still upon that doubt: +But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you: +Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray, +That I have been thus pleasant with you both. +HORTENSIO +You may go walk, and give me leave a while: +My lessons make no music in three parts. +LUCENTIO +Are you so formal, sir? well, I must wait, +Aside + +And watch withal; for, but I be deceived, +Our fine musician groweth amorous. +HORTENSIO +Madam, before you touch the instrument, +To learn the order of my fingering, +I must begin with rudiments of art; +To teach you gamut in a briefer sort, +More pleasant, pithy and effectual, +Than hath been taught by any of my trade: +And there it is in writing, fairly drawn. +BIANCA +Why, I am past my gamut long ago. +HORTENSIO +Yet read the gamut of Hortensio. +BIANCA +[Reads] ''Gamut' I am, the ground of all accord, +'A re,' to Plead Hortensio's passion; +'B mi,' Bianca, take him for thy lord, +'C fa ut,' that loves with all affection: +'D sol re,' one clef, two notes have I: +'E la mi,' show pity, or I die.' +Call you this gamut? tut, I like it not: +Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice, +To change true rules for old inventions. +Enter a Servant + +Servant +Mistress, your father prays you leave your books +And help to dress your sister's chamber up: +You know to-morrow is the wedding-day. +BIANCA +Farewell, sweet masters both; I must be gone. +Exeunt BIANCA and Servant + +LUCENTIO +Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay. +Exit + +HORTENSIO +But I have cause to pry into this pedant: +Methinks he looks as though he were in love: +Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble +To cast thy wandering eyes on every stale, +Seize thee that list: if once I find thee ranging, +Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. +Exit + +SCENE II. Padua. Before BAPTISTA'S house. +Enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, TRANIO, KATHARINA, BIANCA, LUCENTIO, and others, attendants +BAPTISTA +[To TRANIO] Signior Lucentio, this is the +'pointed day. +That Katharina and Petruchio should be married, +And yet we hear not of our son-in-law. +What will be said? what mockery will it be, +To want the bridegroom when the priest attends +To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage! +What says Lucentio to this shame of ours? +KATHARINA +No shame but mine: I must, forsooth, be forced +To give my hand opposed against my heart +Unto a mad-brain rudesby full of spleen; +Who woo'd in haste and means to wed at leisure. +I told you, I, he was a frantic fool, +Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behavior: +And, to be noted for a merry man, +He'll woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage, +Make feasts, invite friends, and proclaim the banns; +Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd. +Now must the world point at poor Katharina, +And say, 'Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife, +If it would please him come and marry her!' +TRANIO +Patience, good Katharina, and Baptista too. +Upon my life, Petruchio means but well, +Whatever fortune stays him from his word: +Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise; +Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest. +KATHARINA +Would Katharina had never seen him though! +Exit weeping, followed by BIANCA and others + +BAPTISTA +Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep; +For such an injury would vex a very saint, +Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour. +Enter BIONDELLO + +BIONDELLO +Master, master! news, old news, and such news as +you never heard of! +BAPTISTA +Is it new and old too? how may that be? +BIONDELLO +Why, is it not news, to hear of Petruchio's coming? +BAPTISTA +Is he come? +BIONDELLO +Why, no, sir. +BAPTISTA +What then? +BIONDELLO +He is coming. +BAPTISTA +When will he be here? +BIONDELLO +When he stands where I am and sees you there. +TRANIO +But say, what to thine old news? +BIONDELLO +Why, Petruchio is coming in a new hat and an old +jerkin, a pair of old breeches thrice turned, a pair +of boots that have been candle-cases, one buckled, +another laced, an old rusty sword ta'en out of the +town-armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless; +with two broken points: his horse hipped with an +old mothy saddle and stirrups of no kindred; +besides, possessed with the glanders and like to mose +in the chine; troubled with the lampass, infected +with the fashions, full of wingdalls, sped with +spavins, rayed with yellows, past cure of the fives, +stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn with the +bots, swayed in the back and shoulder-shotten; +near-legged before and with, a half-chequed bit +and a head-stall of sheeps leather which, being +restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been +often burst and now repaired with knots; one girth +six time pieced and a woman's crupper of velure, +which hath two letters for her name fairly set down +in studs, and here and there pieced with packthread. +BAPTISTA +Who comes with him? +BIONDELLO +O, sir, his lackey, for all the world caparisoned +like the horse; with a linen stock on one leg and a +kersey boot-hose on the other, gartered with a red +and blue list; an old hat and 'the humour of forty +fancies' pricked in't for a feather: a monster, a +very monster in apparel, and not like a Christian +footboy or a gentleman's lackey. +TRANIO +'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion; +Yet oftentimes he goes but mean-apparell'd. +BAPTISTA +I am glad he's come, howsoe'er he comes. +BIONDELLO +Why, sir, he comes not. +BAPTISTA +Didst thou not say he comes? +BIONDELLO +Who? that Petruchio came? +BAPTISTA +Ay, that Petruchio came. +BIONDELLO +No, sir, I say his horse comes, with him on his back. +BAPTISTA +Why, that's all one. +BIONDELLO +Nay, by Saint Jamy, +I hold you a penny, +A horse and a man +Is more than one, +And yet not many. +Enter PETRUCHIO and GRUMIO + +PETRUCHIO +Come, where be these gallants? who's at home? +BAPTISTA +You are welcome, sir. +PETRUCHIO +And yet I come not well. +BAPTISTA +And yet you halt not. +TRANIO +Not so well apparell'd +As I wish you were. +PETRUCHIO +Were it better, I should rush in thus. +But where is Kate? where is my lovely bride? +How does my father? Gentles, methinks you frown: +And wherefore gaze this goodly company, +As if they saw some wondrous monument, +Some comet or unusual prodigy? +BAPTISTA +Why, sir, you know this is your wedding-day: +First were we sad, fearing you would not come; +Now sadder, that you come so unprovided. +Fie, doff this habit, shame to your estate, +An eye-sore to our solemn festival! +TRANIO +And tells us, what occasion of import +Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife, +And sent you hither so unlike yourself? +PETRUCHIO +Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear: +Sufficeth I am come to keep my word, +Though in some part enforced to digress; +Which, at more leisure, I will so excuse +As you shall well be satisfied withal. +But where is Kate? I stay too long from her: +The morning wears, 'tis time we were at church. +TRANIO +See not your bride in these unreverent robes: +Go to my chamber; Put on clothes of mine. +PETRUCHIO +Not I, believe me: thus I'll visit her. +BAPTISTA +But thus, I trust, you will not marry her. +PETRUCHIO +Good sooth, even thus; therefore ha' done with words: +To me she's married, not unto my clothes: +Could I repair what she will wear in me, +As I can change these poor accoutrements, +'Twere well for Kate and better for myself. +But what a fool am I to chat with you, +When I should bid good morrow to my bride, +And seal the title with a lovely kiss! +Exeunt PETRUCHIO and GRUMIO + +TRANIO +He hath some meaning in his mad attire: +We will persuade him, be it possible, +To put on better ere he go to church. +BAPTISTA +I'll after him, and see the event of this. +Exeunt BAPTISTA, GREMIO, and attendants + +TRANIO +But to her love concerneth us to add +Her father's liking: which to bring to pass, +As I before unparted to your worship, +I am to get a man,--whate'er he be, +It skills not much. we'll fit him to our turn,-- +And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa; +And make assurance here in Padua +Of greater sums than I have promised. +So shall you quietly enjoy your hope, +And marry sweet Bianca with consent. +LUCENTIO +Were it not that my fellow-school-master +Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly, +'Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage; +Which once perform'd, let all the world say no, +I'll keep mine own, despite of all the world. +TRANIO +That by degrees we mean to look into, +And watch our vantage in this business: +We'll over-reach the greybeard, Gremio, +The narrow-prying father, Minola, +The quaint musician, amorous Licio; +All for my master's sake, Lucentio. +Re-enter GREMIO + +Signior Gremio, came you from the church? +GREMIO +As willingly as e'er I came from school. +TRANIO +And is the bride and bridegroom coming home? +GREMIO +A bridegroom say you? 'tis a groom indeed, +A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find. +TRANIO +Curster than she? why, 'tis impossible. +GREMIO +Why he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend. +TRANIO +Why, she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam. +GREMIO +Tut, she's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him! +I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio: when the priest +Should ask, if Katharina should be his wife, +'Ay, by gogs-wouns,' quoth he; and swore so loud, +That, all-amazed, the priest let fall the book; +And, as he stoop'd again to take it up, +The mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff +That down fell priest and book and book and priest: +'Now take them up,' quoth he, 'if any list.' +TRANIO +What said the wench when he rose again? +GREMIO +Trembled and shook; for why, he stamp'd and swore, +As if the vicar meant to cozen him. +But after many ceremonies done, +He calls for wine: 'A health!' quoth he, as if +He had been aboard, carousing to his mates +After a storm; quaff'd off the muscadel +And threw the sops all in the sexton's face; +Having no other reason +But that his beard grew thin and hungerly +And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking. +This done, he took the bride about the neck +And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack +That at the parting all the church did echo: +And I seeing this came thence for very shame; +And after me, I know, the rout is coming. +Such a mad marriage never was before: +Hark, hark! I hear the minstrels play. +Music + +Re-enter PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, BIANCA, BAPTISTA, HORTENSIO, GRUMIO, and Train + +PETRUCHIO +Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your pains: +I know you think to dine with me to-day, +And have prepared great store of wedding cheer; +But so it is, my haste doth call me hence, +And therefore here I mean to take my leave. +BAPTISTA +Is't possible you will away to-night? +PETRUCHIO +I must away to-day, before night come: +Make it no wonder; if you knew my business, +You would entreat me rather go than stay. +And, honest company, I thank you all, +That have beheld me give away myself +To this most patient, sweet and virtuous wife: +Dine with my father, drink a health to me; +For I must hence; and farewell to you all. +TRANIO +Let us entreat you stay till after dinner. +PETRUCHIO +It may not be. +GREMIO +Let me entreat you. +PETRUCHIO +It cannot be. +KATHARINA +Let me entreat you. +PETRUCHIO +I am content. +KATHARINA +Are you content to stay? +PETRUCHIO +I am content you shall entreat me stay; +But yet not stay, entreat me how you can. +KATHARINA +Now, if you love me, stay. +PETRUCHIO +Grumio, my horse. +GRUMIO +Ay, sir, they be ready: the oats have eaten the horses. +KATHARINA +Nay, then, +Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day; +No, nor to-morrow, not till I please myself. +The door is open, sir; there lies your way; +You may be jogging whiles your boots are green; +For me, I'll not be gone till I please myself: +'Tis like you'll prove a jolly surly groom, +That take it on you at the first so roundly. +PETRUCHIO +O Kate, content thee; prithee, be not angry. +KATHARINA +I will be angry: what hast thou to do? +Father, be quiet; he shall stay my leisure. +GREMIO +Ay, marry, sir, now it begins to work. +KATARINA +Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner: +I see a woman may be made a fool, +If she had not a spirit to resist. +PETRUCHIO +They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command. +Obey the bride, you that attend on her; +Go to the feast, revel and domineer, +Carouse full measure to her maidenhead, +Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves: +But for my bonny Kate, she must with me. +Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret; +I will be master of what is mine own: +She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house, +My household stuff, my field, my barn, +My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing; +And here she stands, touch her whoever dare; +I'll bring mine action on the proudest he +That stops my way in Padua. Grumio, +Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with thieves; +Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man. +Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch +thee, Kate: +I'll buckler thee against a million. +Exeunt PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, and GRUMIO + +BAPTISTA +Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones. +GREMIO +Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing. +TRANIO +Of all mad matches never was the like. +LUCENTIO +Mistress, what's your opinion of your sister? +BIANCA +That, being mad herself, she's madly mated. +GREMIO +I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated. +BAPTISTA +Neighbours and friends, though bride and +bridegroom wants +For to supply the places at the table, +You know there wants no junkets at the feast. +Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom's place: +And let Bianca take her sister's room. +TRANIO +Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it? +BAPTISTA +She shall, Lucentio. Come, gentlemen, let's go. +Exeunt + +ACT IV +SCENE I. PETRUCHIO'S country house. +Enter GRUMIO +GRUMIO +Fie, fie on all tired jades, on all mad masters, and +all foul ways! Was ever man so beaten? was ever +man so rayed? was ever man so weary? I am sent +before to make a fire, and they are coming after to +warm them. Now, were not I a little pot and soon +hot, my very lips might freeze to my teeth, my +tongue to the roof of my mouth, my heart in my +belly, ere I should come by a fire to thaw me: but +I, with blowing the fire, shall warm myself; for, +considering the weather, a taller man than I will +take cold. Holla, ho! Curtis. +Enter CURTIS + +CURTIS +Who is that calls so coldly? +GRUMIO +A piece of ice: if thou doubt it, thou mayst slide +from my shoulder to my heel with no greater a run +but my head and my neck. A fire good Curtis. +CURTIS +Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio? +GRUMIO +O, ay, Curtis, ay: and therefore fire, fire; cast +on no water. +CURTIS +Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported? +GRUMIO +She was, good Curtis, before this frost: but, thou +knowest, winter tames man, woman and beast; for it +hath tamed my old master and my new mistress and +myself, fellow Curtis. +CURTIS +Away, you three-inch fool! I am no beast. +GRUMIO +Am I but three inches? why, thy horn is a foot; and +so long am I at the least. But wilt thou make a +fire, or shall I complain on thee to our mistress, +whose hand, she being now at hand, thou shalt soon +feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office? +CURTIS +I prithee, good Grumio, tell me, how goes the world? +GRUMIO +A cold world, Curtis, in every office but thine; and +therefore fire: do thy duty, and have thy duty; for +my master and mistress are almost frozen to death. +CURTIS +There's fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio, the news. +GRUMIO +Why, 'Jack, boy! ho! boy!' and as much news as +will thaw. +CURTIS +Come, you are so full of cony-catching! +GRUMIO +Why, therefore fire; for I have caught extreme cold. +Where's the cook? is supper ready, the house +trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swept; the +serving-men in their new fustian, their white +stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment on? +Be the jacks fair within, the jills fair without, +the carpets laid, and every thing in order? +CURTIS +All ready; and therefore, I pray thee, news. +GRUMIO +First, know, my horse is tired; my master and +mistress fallen out. +CURTIS +How? +GRUMIO +Out of their saddles into the dirt; and thereby +hangs a tale. +CURTIS +Let's ha't, good Grumio. +GRUMIO +Lend thine ear. +CURTIS +Here. +GRUMIO +There. +Strikes him + +CURTIS +This is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale. +GRUMIO +And therefore 'tis called a sensible tale: and this +cuff was but to knock at your ear, and beseech +listening. Now I begin: Imprimis, we came down a +foul hill, my master riding behind my mistress,-- +CURTIS +Both of one horse? +GRUMIO +What's that to thee? +CURTIS +Why, a horse. +GRUMIO +Tell thou the tale: but hadst thou not crossed me, +thou shouldst have heard how her horse fell and she +under her horse; thou shouldst have heard in how +miry a place, how she was bemoiled, how he left her +with the horse upon her, how he beat me because +her horse stumbled, how she waded through the dirt +to pluck him off me, how he swore, how she prayed, +that never prayed before, how I cried, how the +horses ran away, how her bridle was burst, how I +lost my crupper, with many things of worthy memory, +which now shall die in oblivion and thou return +unexperienced to thy grave. +CURTIS +By this reckoning he is more shrew than she. +GRUMIO +Ay; and that thou and the proudest of you all shall +find when he comes home. But what talk I of this? +Call forth Nathaniel, Joseph, Nicholas, Philip, +Walter, Sugarsop and the rest: let their heads be +sleekly combed their blue coats brushed and their +garters of an indifferent knit: let them curtsy +with their left legs and not presume to touch a hair +of my master's horse-tail till they kiss their +hands. Are they all ready? +CURTIS +They are. +GRUMIO +Call them forth. +CURTIS +Do you hear, ho? you must meet my master to +countenance my mistress. +GRUMIO +Why, she hath a face of her own. +CURTIS +Who knows not that? +GRUMIO +Thou, it seems, that calls for company to +countenance her. +CURTIS +I call them forth to credit her. +GRUMIO +Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them. +Enter four or five Serving-men + +NATHANIEL +Welcome home, Grumio! +PHILIP +How now, Grumio! +JOSEPH +What, Grumio! +NICHOLAS +Fellow Grumio! +NATHANIEL +How now, old lad? +GRUMIO +Welcome, you;--how now, you;-- what, you;--fellow, +you;--and thus much for greeting. Now, my spruce +companions, is all ready, and all things neat? +NATHANIEL +All things is ready. How near is our master? +GRUMIO +E'en at hand, alighted by this; and therefore be +not--Cock's passion, silence! I hear my master. +Enter PETRUCHIO and KATHARINA + +PETRUCHIO +Where be these knaves? What, no man at door +To hold my stirrup nor to take my horse! +Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip? +ALL SERVING-MEN Here, here, sir; here, sir. +PETRUCHIO +Here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! +You logger-headed and unpolish'd grooms! +What, no attendance? no regard? no duty? +Where is the foolish knave I sent before? +GRUMIO +Here, sir; as foolish as I was before. +PETRUCHIO +You peasant swain! you whoreson malt-horse drudge! +Did I not bid thee meet me in the park, +And bring along these rascal knaves with thee? +GRUMIO +Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made, +And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' the heel; +There was no link to colour Peter's hat, +And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing: +There were none fine but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory; +The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly; +Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you. +PETRUCHIO +Go, rascals, go, and fetch my supper in. +Exeunt Servants + +Singing + +Where is the life that late I led-- +Where are those--Sit down, Kate, and welcome.-- +Sound, sound, sound, sound! +Re-enter Servants with supper + +Why, when, I say? Nay, good sweet Kate, be merry. +Off with my boots, you rogues! you villains, when? +Sings + +It was the friar of orders grey, +As he forth walked on his way:-- +Out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry: +Take that, and mend the plucking off the other. +Strikes him + +Be merry, Kate. Some water, here; what, ho! +Where's my spaniel Troilus? Sirrah, get you hence, +And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither: +One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted with. +Where are my slippers? Shall I have some water? +Enter one with water + +Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily. +You whoreson villain! will you let it fall? +Strikes him + +KATHARINA +Patience, I pray you; 'twas a fault unwilling. +PETRUCHIO +A whoreson beetle-headed, flap-ear'd knave! +Come, Kate, sit down; I know you have a stomach. +Will you give thanks, sweet Kate; or else shall I? +What's this? mutton? +First Servant +Ay. +PETRUCHIO +Who brought it? +PETER +I. +PETRUCHIO +'Tis burnt; and so is all the meat. +What dogs are these! Where is the rascal cook? +How durst you, villains, bring it from the dresser, +And serve it thus to me that love it not? +Theretake it to you, trenchers, cups, and all; +Throws the meat, & c. about the stage + +You heedless joltheads and unmanner'd slaves! +What, do you grumble? I'll be with you straight. +KATHARINA +I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet: +The meat was well, if you were so contented. +PETRUCHIO +I tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away; +And I expressly am forbid to touch it, +For it engenders choler, planteth anger; +And better 'twere that both of us did fast, +Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric, +Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh. +Be patient; to-morrow 't shall be mended, +And, for this night, we'll fast for company: +Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber. +Exeunt + +Re-enter Servants severally + +NATHANIEL +Peter, didst ever see the like? +PETER +He kills her in her own humour. +Re-enter CURTIS + +GRUMIO +Where is he? +CURTIS +In her chamber, making a sermon of continency to her; +And rails, and swears, and rates, that she, poor soul, +Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak, +And sits as one new-risen from a dream. +Away, away! for he is coming hither. +Exeunt + +Re-enter PETRUCHIO + +PETRUCHIO +Thus have I politicly begun my reign, +And 'tis my hope to end successfully. +My falcon now is sharp and passing empty; +And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged, +For then she never looks upon her lure. +Another way I have to man my haggard, +To make her come and know her keeper's call, +That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites +That bate and beat and will not be obedient. +She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat; +Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not; +As with the meat, some undeserved fault +I'll find about the making of the bed; +And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster, +This way the coverlet, another way the sheets: +Ay, and amid this hurly I intend +That all is done in reverend care of her; +And in conclusion she shall watch all night: +And if she chance to nod I'll rail and brawl +And with the clamour keep her still awake. +This is a way to kill a wife with kindness; +And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour. +He that knows better how to tame a shrew, +Now let him speak: 'tis charity to show. +Exit + +SCENE II. Padua. Before BAPTISTA'S house. +Enter TRANIO and HORTENSIO +TRANIO +Is't possible, friend Licio, that Mistress Bianca +Doth fancy any other but Lucentio? +I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand. +HORTENSIO +Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said, +Stand by and mark the manner of his teaching. +Enter BIANCA and LUCENTIO + +LUCENTIO +Now, mistress, profit you in what you read? +BIANCA +What, master, read you? first resolve me that. +LUCENTIO +I read that I profess, the Art to Love. +BIANCA +And may you prove, sir, master of your art! +LUCENTIO +While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart! +HORTENSIO +Quick proceeders, marry! Now, tell me, I pray, +You that durst swear at your mistress Bianca +Loved none in the world so well as Lucentio. +TRANIO +O despiteful love! unconstant womankind! +I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful. +HORTENSIO +Mistake no more: I am not Licio, +Nor a musician, as I seem to be; +But one that scorn to live in this disguise, +For such a one as leaves a gentleman, +And makes a god of such a cullion: +Know, sir, that I am call'd Hortensio. +TRANIO +Signior Hortensio, I have often heard +Of your entire affection to Bianca; +And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness, +I will with you, if you be so contented, +Forswear Bianca and her love for ever. +HORTENSIO +See, how they kiss and court! Signior Lucentio, +Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow +Never to woo her no more, but do forswear her, +As one unworthy all the former favours +That I have fondly flatter'd her withal. +TRANIO +And here I take the unfeigned oath, +Never to marry with her though she would entreat: +Fie on her! see, how beastly she doth court him! +HORTENSIO +Would all the world but he had quite forsworn! +For me, that I may surely keep mine oath, +I will be married to a wealthy widow, +Ere three days pass, which hath as long loved me +As I have loved this proud disdainful haggard. +And so farewell, Signior Lucentio. +Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, +Shall win my love: and so I take my leave, +In resolution as I swore before. +Exit + +TRANIO +Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace +As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case! +Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle love, +And have forsworn you with Hortensio. +BIANCA +Tranio, you jest: but have you both forsworn me? +TRANIO +Mistress, we have. +LUCENTIO +Then we are rid of Licio. +TRANIO +I' faith, he'll have a lusty widow now, +That shall be wood and wedded in a day. +BIANCA +God give him joy! +TRANIO +Ay, and he'll tame her. +BIANCA +He says so, Tranio. +TRANIO +Faith, he is gone unto the taming-school. +BIANCA +The taming-school! what, is there such a place? +TRANIO +Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the master; +That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long, +To tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue. +Enter BIONDELLO + +BIONDELLO +O master, master, I have watch'd so long +That I am dog-weary: but at last I spied +An ancient angel coming down the hill, +Will serve the turn. +TRANIO +What is he, Biondello? +BIONDELLO +Master, a mercatante, or a pedant, +I know not what; but format in apparel, +In gait and countenance surely like a father. +LUCENTIO +And what of him, Tranio? +TRANIO +If he be credulous and trust my tale, +I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio, +And give assurance to Baptista Minola, +As if he were the right Vincentio +Take in your love, and then let me alone. +Exeunt LUCENTIO and BIANCA + +Enter a Pedant + +Pedant +God save you, sir! +TRANIO +And you, sir! you are welcome. +Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest? +Pedant +Sir, at the farthest for a week or two: +But then up farther, and as for as Rome; +And so to Tripoli, if God lend me life. +TRANIO +What countryman, I pray? +Pedant +Of Mantua. +TRANIO +Of Mantua, sir? marry, God forbid! +And come to Padua, careless of your life? +Pedant +My life, sir! how, I pray? for that goes hard. +TRANIO +'Tis death for any one in Mantua +To come to Padua. Know you not the cause? +Your ships are stay'd at Venice, and the duke, +For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him, +Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly: +'Tis, marvel, but that you are but newly come, +You might have heard it else proclaim'd about. +Pedant +Alas! sir, it is worse for me than so; +For I have bills for money by exchange +From Florence and must here deliver them. +TRANIO +Well, sir, to do you courtesy, +This will I do, and this I will advise you: +First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa? +Pedant +Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been, +Pisa renowned for grave citizens. +TRANIO +Among them know you one Vincentio? +Pedant +I know him not, but I have heard of him; +A merchant of incomparable wealth. +TRANIO +He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say, +In countenance somewhat doth resemble you. +BIONDELLO +[Aside] As much as an apple doth an oyster, +and all one. +TRANIO +To save your life in this extremity, +This favour will I do you for his sake; +And think it not the worst of an your fortunes +That you are like to Sir Vincentio. +His name and credit shall you undertake, +And in my house you shall be friendly lodged: +Look that you take upon you as you should; +You understand me, sir: so shall you stay +Till you have done your business in the city: +If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it. +Pedant +O sir, I do; and will repute you ever +The patron of my life and liberty. +TRANIO +Then go with me to make the matter good. +This, by the way, I let you understand; +my father is here look'd for every day, +To pass assurance of a dower in marriage +'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here: +In all these circumstances I'll instruct you: +Go with me to clothe you as becomes you. +Exeunt + +SCENE III. A room in PETRUCHIO'S house. +Enter KATHARINA and GRUMIO +GRUMIO +No, no, forsooth; I dare not for my life. +KATHARINA +The more my wrong, the more his spite appears: +What, did he marry me to famish me? +Beggars, that come unto my father's door, +Upon entreaty have a present aims; +If not, elsewhere they meet with charity: +But I, who never knew how to entreat, +Nor never needed that I should entreat, +Am starved for meat, giddy for lack of sleep, +With oath kept waking and with brawling fed: +And that which spites me more than all these wants, +He does it under name of perfect love; +As who should say, if I should sleep or eat, +'Twere deadly sickness or else present death. +I prithee go and get me some repast; +I care not what, so it be wholesome food. +GRUMIO +What say you to a neat's foot? +KATHARINA +'Tis passing good: I prithee let me have it. +GRUMIO +I fear it is too choleric a meat. +How say you to a fat tripe finely broil'd? +KATHARINA +I like it well: good Grumio, fetch it me. +GRUMIO +I cannot tell; I fear 'tis choleric. +What say you to a piece of beef and mustard? +KATHARINA +A dish that I do love to feed upon. +GRUMIO +Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little. +KATHARINA +Why then, the beef, and let the mustard rest. +GRUMIO +Nay then, I will not: you shall have the mustard, +Or else you get no beef of Grumio. +KATHARINA +Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt. +GRUMIO +Why then, the mustard without the beef. +KATHARINA +Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave, +Beats him + +That feed'st me with the very name of meat: +Sorrow on thee and all the pack of you, +That triumph thus upon my misery! +Go, get thee gone, I say. +Enter PETRUCHIO and HORTENSIO with meat + +PETRUCHIO +How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort? +HORTENSIO +Mistress, what cheer? +KATHARINA +Faith, as cold as can be. +PETRUCHIO +Pluck up thy spirits; look cheerfully upon me. +Here love; thou see'st how diligent I am +To dress thy meat myself and bring it thee: +I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. +What, not a word? Nay, then thou lovest it not; +And all my pains is sorted to no proof. +Here, take away this dish. +KATHARINA +I pray you, let it stand. +PETRUCHIO +The poorest service is repaid with thanks; +And so shall mine, before you touch the meat. +KATHARINA +I thank you, sir. +HORTENSIO +Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame. +Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear you company. +PETRUCHIO +[Aside] Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lovest me. +Much good do it unto thy gentle heart! +Kate, eat apace: and now, my honey love, +Will we return unto thy father's house +And revel it as bravely as the best, +With silken coats and caps and golden rings, +With ruffs and cuffs and fardingales and things; +With scarfs and fans and double change of bravery, +With amber bracelets, beads and all this knavery. +What, hast thou dined? The tailor stays thy leisure, +To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure. +Enter Tailor + +Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments; +Lay forth the gown. +Enter Haberdasher + +What news with you, sir? +Haberdasher +Here is the cap your worship did bespeak. +PETRUCHIO +Why, this was moulded on a porringer; +A velvet dish: fie, fie! 'tis lewd and filthy: +Why, 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell, +A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap: +Away with it! come, let me have a bigger. +KATHARINA +I'll have no bigger: this doth fit the time, +And gentlewomen wear such caps as these +PETRUCHIO +When you are gentle, you shall have one too, +And not till then. +HORTENSIO +[Aside] That will not be in haste. +KATHARINA +Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak; +And speak I will; I am no child, no babe: +Your betters have endured me say my mind, +And if you cannot, best you stop your ears. +My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, +Or else my heart concealing it will break, +And rather than it shall, I will be free +Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words. +PETRUCHIO +Why, thou say'st true; it is a paltry cap, +A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie: +I love thee well, in that thou likest it not. +KATHARINA +Love me or love me not, I like the cap; +And it I will have, or I will have none. +Exit Haberdasher + +PETRUCHIO +Thy gown? why, ay: come, tailor, let us see't. +O mercy, God! what masquing stuff is here? +What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon: +What, up and down, carved like an apple-tart? +Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash, +Like to a censer in a barber's shop: +Why, what, i' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this? +HORTENSIO +[Aside] I see she's like to have neither cap nor gown. +Tailor +You bid me make it orderly and well, +According to the fashion and the time. +PETRUCHIO +Marry, and did; but if you be remember'd, +I did not bid you mar it to the time. +Go, hop me over every kennel home, +For you shall hop without my custom, sir: +I'll none of it: hence! make your best of it. +KATHARINA +I never saw a better-fashion'd gown, +More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable: +Belike you mean to make a puppet of me. +PETRUCHIO +Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee. +Tailor +She says your worship means to make +a puppet of her. +PETRUCHIO +O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou thread, +thou thimble, +Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail! +Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou! +Braved in mine own house with a skein of thread? +Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant; +Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard +As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou livest! +I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown. +Tailor +Your worship is deceived; the gown is made +Just as my master had direction: +Grumio gave order how it should be done. +GRUMIO +I gave him no order; I gave him the stuff. +Tailor +But how did you desire it should be made? +GRUMIO +Marry, sir, with needle and thread. +Tailor +But did you not request to have it cut? +GRUMIO +Thou hast faced many things. +Tailor +I have. +GRUMIO +Face not me: thou hast braved many men; brave not +me; I will neither be faced nor braved. I say unto +thee, I bid thy master cut out the gown; but I did +not bid him cut it to pieces: ergo, thou liest. +Tailor +Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify +PETRUCHIO +Read it. +GRUMIO +The note lies in's throat, if he say I said so. +Tailor +[Reads] 'Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown:' +GRUMIO +Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew me in +the skirts of it, and beat me to death with a bottom +of brown thread: I said a gown. +PETRUCHIO +Proceed. +Tailor +[Reads] 'With a small compassed cape:' +GRUMIO +I confess the cape. +Tailor +[Reads] 'With a trunk sleeve:' +GRUMIO +I confess two sleeves. +Tailor +[Reads] 'The sleeves curiously cut.' +PETRUCHIO +Ay, there's the villany. +GRUMIO +Error i' the bill, sir; error i' the bill. +I commanded the sleeves should be cut out and +sewed up again; and that I'll prove upon thee, +though thy little finger be armed in a thimble. +Tailor +This is true that I say: an I had thee +in place where, thou shouldst know it. +GRUMIO +I am for thee straight: take thou the +bill, give me thy mete-yard, and spare not me. +HORTENSIO +God-a-mercy, Grumio! then he shall have no odds. +PETRUCHIO +Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me. +GRUMIO +You are i' the right, sir: 'tis for my mistress. +PETRUCHIO +Go, take it up unto thy master's use. +GRUMIO +Villain, not for thy life: take up my mistress' +gown for thy master's use! +PETRUCHIO +Why, sir, what's your conceit in that? +GRUMIO +O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for: +Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use! +O, fie, fie, fie! +PETRUCHIO +[Aside] Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor paid. +Go take it hence; be gone, and say no more. +HORTENSIO +Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown tomorrow: +Take no unkindness of his hasty words: +Away! I say; commend me to thy master. +Exit Tailor + +PETRUCHIO +Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your father's +Even in these honest mean habiliments: +Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor; +For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich; +And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, +So honour peereth in the meanest habit. +What is the jay more precious than the lark, +Because his fathers are more beautiful? +Or is the adder better than the eel, +Because his painted skin contents the eye? +O, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse +For this poor furniture and mean array. +if thou account'st it shame. lay it on me; +And therefore frolic: we will hence forthwith, +To feast and sport us at thy father's house. +Go, call my men, and let us straight to him; +And bring our horses unto Long-lane end; +There will we mount, and thither walk on foot +Let's see; I think 'tis now some seven o'clock, +And well we may come there by dinner-time. +KATHARINA +I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two; +And 'twill be supper-time ere you come there. +PETRUCHIO +It shall be seven ere I go to horse: +Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do, +You are still crossing it. Sirs, let't alone: +I will not go to-day; and ere I do, +It shall be what o'clock I say it is. +HORTENSIO +[Aside] Why, so this gallant will command the sun. +Exeunt + +SCENE IV. Padua. Before BAPTISTA'S house. +Enter TRANIO, and the Pedant dressed like VINCENTIO +TRANIO +Sir, this is the house: please it you that I call? +Pedant +Ay, what else? and but I be deceived +Signior Baptista may remember me, +Near twenty years ago, in Genoa, +Where we were lodgers at the Pegasus. +TRANIO +'Tis well; and hold your own, in any case, +With such austerity as 'longeth to a father. +Pedant +I warrant you. +Enter BIONDELLO + +But, sir, here comes your boy; +'Twere good he were school'd. +TRANIO +Fear you not him. Sirrah Biondello, +Now do your duty throughly, I advise you: +Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio. +BIONDELLO +Tut, fear not me. +TRANIO +But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista? +BIONDELLO +I told him that your father was at Venice, +And that you look'd for him this day in Padua. +TRANIO +Thou'rt a tall fellow: hold thee that to drink. +Here comes Baptista: set your countenance, sir. +Enter BAPTISTA and LUCENTIO + +Signior Baptista, you are happily met. +To the Pedant + +Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of: +I pray you stand good father to me now, +Give me Bianca for my patrimony. +Pedant +Soft son! +Sir, by your leave: having come to Padua +To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio +Made me acquainted with a weighty cause +Of love between your daughter and himself: +And, for the good report I hear of you +And for the love he beareth to your daughter +And she to him, to stay him not too long, +I am content, in a good father's care, +To have him match'd; and if you please to like +No worse than I, upon some agreement +Me shall you find ready and willing +With one consent to have her so bestow'd; +For curious I cannot be with you, +Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well. +BAPTISTA +Sir, pardon me in what I have to say: +Your plainness and your shortness please me well. +Right true it is, your son Lucentio here +Doth love my daughter and she loveth him, +Or both dissemble deeply their affections: +And therefore, if you say no more than this, +That like a father you will deal with him +And pass my daughter a sufficient dower, +The match is made, and all is done: +Your son shall have my daughter with consent. +TRANIO +I thank you, sir. Where then do you know best +We be affied and such assurance ta'en +As shall with either part's agreement stand? +BAPTISTA +Not in my house, Lucentio; for, you know, +Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants: +Besides, old Gremio is hearkening still; +And happily we might be interrupted. +TRANIO +Then at my lodging, an it like you: +There doth my father lie; and there, this night, +We'll pass the business privately and well. +Send for your daughter by your servant here: +My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently. +The worst is this, that, at so slender warning, +You are like to have a thin and slender pittance. +BAPTISTA +It likes me well. Biondello, hie you home, +And bid Bianca make her ready straight; +And, if you will, tell what hath happened, +Lucentio's father is arrived in Padua, +And how she's like to be Lucentio's wife. +BIONDELLO +I pray the gods she may with all my heart! +TRANIO +Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone. +Exit BIONDELLO + +Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way? +Welcome! one mess is like to be your cheer: +Come, sir; we will better it in Pisa. +BAPTISTA +I follow you. +Exeunt TRANIO, Pedant, and BAPTISTA + +Re-enter BIONDELLO + +BIONDELLO +Cambio! +LUCENTIO +What sayest thou, Biondello? +BIONDELLO +You saw my master wink and laugh upon you? +LUCENTIO +Biondello, what of that? +BIONDELLO +Faith, nothing; but has left me here behind, to +expound the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens. +LUCENTIO +I pray thee, moralize them. +BIONDELLO +Then thus. Baptista is safe, talking with the +deceiving father of a deceitful son. +LUCENTIO +And what of him? +BIONDELLO +His daughter is to be brought by you to the supper. +LUCENTIO +And then? +BIONDELLO +The old priest of Saint Luke's church is at your +command at all hours. +LUCENTIO +And what of all this? +BIONDELLO +I cannot tell; expect they are busied about a +counterfeit assurance: take you assurance of her, +'cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum:' to the +church; take the priest, clerk, and some sufficient +honest witnesses: If this be not that you look for, +I have no more to say, But bid Bianca farewell for +ever and a day. +LUCENTIO +Hearest thou, Biondello? +BIONDELLO +I cannot tarry: I knew a wench married in an +afternoon as she went to the garden for parsley to +stuff a rabbit; and so may you, sir: and so, adieu, +sir. My master hath appointed me to go to Saint +Luke's, to bid the priest be ready to come against +you come with your appendix. +Exit + +LUCENTIO +I may, and will, if she be so contented: +She will be pleased; then wherefore should I doubt? +Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her: +It shall go hard if Cambio go without her. +Exit + +SCENE V. A public road. +Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, HORTENSIO, and Servants +PETRUCHIO +Come on, i' God's name; once more toward our father's. +Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon! +KATHARINA +The moon! the sun: it is not moonlight now. +PETRUCHIO +I say it is the moon that shines so bright. +KATHARINA +I know it is the sun that shines so bright. +PETRUCHIO +Now, by my mother's son, and that's myself, +It shall be moon, or star, or what I list, +Or ere I journey to your father's house. +Go on, and fetch our horses back again. +Evermore cross'd and cross'd; nothing but cross'd! +HORTENSIO +Say as he says, or we shall never go. +KATHARINA +Forward, I pray, since we have come so far, +And be it moon, or sun, or what you please: +An if you please to call it a rush-candle, +Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me. +PETRUCHIO +I say it is the moon. +KATHARINA +I know it is the moon. +PETRUCHIO +Nay, then you lie: it is the blessed sun. +KATHARINA +Then, God be bless'd, it is the blessed sun: +But sun it is not, when you say it is not; +And the moon changes even as your mind. +What you will have it named, even that it is; +And so it shall be so for Katharina. +HORTENSIO +Petruchio, go thy ways; the field is won. +PETRUCHIO +Well, forward, forward! thus the bowl should run, +And not unluckily against the bias. +But, soft! company is coming here. +Enter VINCENTIO + +To VINCENTIO + +Good morrow, gentle mistress: where away? +Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, +Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman? +Such war of white and red within her cheeks! +What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty, +As those two eyes become that heavenly face? +Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee. +Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake. +HORTENSIO +A' will make the man mad, to make a woman of him. +KATHARINA +Young budding virgin, fair and fresh and sweet, +Whither away, or where is thy abode? +Happy the parents of so fair a child; +Happier the man, whom favourable stars +Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow! +PETRUCHIO +Why, how now, Kate! I hope thou art not mad: +This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd, +And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is. +KATHARINA +Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes, +That have been so bedazzled with the sun +That everything I look on seemeth green: +Now I perceive thou art a reverend father; +Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking. +PETRUCHIO +Do, good old grandsire; and withal make known +Which way thou travellest: if along with us, +We shall be joyful of thy company. +VINCENTIO +Fair sir, and you my merry mistress, +That with your strange encounter much amazed me, +My name is call'd Vincentio; my dwelling Pisa; +And bound I am to Padua; there to visit +A son of mine, which long I have not seen. +PETRUCHIO +What is his name? +VINCENTIO +Lucentio, gentle sir. +PETRUCHIO +Happily we met; the happier for thy son. +And now by law, as well as reverend age, +I may entitle thee my loving father: +The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman, +Thy son by this hath married. Wonder not, +Nor be grieved: she is of good esteem, +Her dowery wealthy, and of worthy birth; +Beside, so qualified as may beseem +The spouse of any noble gentleman. +Let me embrace with old Vincentio, +And wander we to see thy honest son, +Who will of thy arrival be full joyous. +VINCENTIO +But is it true? or else is it your pleasure, +Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest +Upon the company you overtake? +HORTENSIO +I do assure thee, father, so it is. +PETRUCHIO +Come, go along, and see the truth hereof; +For our first merriment hath made thee jealous. +Exeunt all but HORTENSIO + +HORTENSIO +Well, Petruchio, this has put me in heart. +Have to my widow! and if she be froward, +Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward. +Exit + +ACT V +SCENE I. Padua. Before LUCENTIO'S house. +GREMIO discovered. Enter behind BIONDELLO, LUCENTIO, and BIANCA +BIONDELLO +Softly and swiftly, sir; for the priest is ready. +LUCENTIO +I fly, Biondello: but they may chance to need thee +at home; therefore leave us. +BIONDELLO +Nay, faith, I'll see the church o' your back; and +then come back to my master's as soon as I can. +Exeunt LUCENTIO, BIANCA, and BIONDELLO + +GREMIO +I marvel Cambio comes not all this while. +Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, VINCENTIO, GRUMIO, with Attendants + +PETRUCHIO +Sir, here's the door, this is Lucentio's house: +My father's bears more toward the market-place; +Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir. +VINCENTIO +You shall not choose but drink before you go: +I think I shall command your welcome here, +And, by all likelihood, some cheer is toward. +Knocks + +GREMIO +They're busy within; you were best knock louder. +Pedant looks out of the window + +Pedant +What's he that knocks as he would beat down the gate? +VINCENTIO +Is Signior Lucentio within, sir? +Pedant +He's within, sir, but not to be spoken withal. +VINCENTIO +What if a man bring him a hundred pound or two, to +make merry withal? +Pedant +Keep your hundred pounds to yourself: he shall +need none, so long as I live. +PETRUCHIO +Nay, I told you your son was well beloved in Padua. +Do you hear, sir? To leave frivolous circumstances, +I pray you, tell Signior Lucentio that his father is +come from Pisa, and is here at the door to speak with him. +Pedant +Thou liest: his father is come from Padua and here +looking out at the window. +VINCENTIO +Art thou his father? +Pedant +Ay, sir; so his mother says, if I may believe her. +PETRUCHIO +[To VINCENTIO] Why, how now, gentleman! why, this +is flat knavery, to take upon you another man's name. +Pedant +Lay hands on the villain: I believe a' means to +cozen somebody in this city under my countenance. +Re-enter BIONDELLO + +BIONDELLO +I have seen them in the church together: God send +'em good shipping! But who is here? mine old +master Vincentio! now we are undone and brought to nothing. +VINCENTIO +[Seeing BIONDELLO] +Come hither, crack-hemp. +BIONDELLO +Hope I may choose, sir. +VINCENTIO +Come hither, you rogue. What, have you forgot me? +BIONDELLO +Forgot you! no, sir: I could not forget you, for I +never saw you before in all my life. +VINCENTIO +What, you notorious villain, didst thou never see +thy master's father, Vincentio? +BIONDELLO +What, my old worshipful old master? yes, marry, sir: +see where he looks out of the window. +VINCENTIO +Is't so, indeed. +Beats BIONDELLO + +BIONDELLO +Help, help, help! here's a madman will murder me. +Exit + +Pedant +Help, son! help, Signior Baptista! +Exit from above + +PETRUCHIO +Prithee, Kate, let's stand aside and see the end of +this controversy. +They retire + +Re-enter Pedant below; TRANIO, BAPTISTA, and Servants + +TRANIO +Sir, what are you that offer to beat my servant? +VINCENTIO +What am I, sir! nay, what are you, sir? O immortal +gods! O fine villain! A silken doublet! a velvet +hose! a scarlet cloak! and a copatain hat! O, I +am undone! I am undone! while I play the good +husband at home, my son and my servant spend all at +the university. +TRANIO +How now! what's the matter? +BAPTISTA +What, is the man lunatic? +TRANIO +Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman by your +habit, but your words show you a madman. Why, sir, +what 'cerns it you if I wear pearl and gold? I +thank my good father, I am able to maintain it. +VINCENTIO +Thy father! O villain! he is a sailmaker in Bergamo. +BAPTISTA +You mistake, sir, you mistake, sir. Pray, what do +you think is his name? +VINCENTIO +His name! as if I knew not his name: I have brought +him up ever since he was three years old, and his +name is Tranio. +Pedant +Away, away, mad ass! his name is Lucentio and he is +mine only son, and heir to the lands of me, Signior Vincentio. +VINCENTIO +Lucentio! O, he hath murdered his master! Lay hold +on him, I charge you, in the duke's name. O, my +son, my son! Tell me, thou villain, where is my son Lucentio? +TRANIO +Call forth an officer. +Enter one with an Officer + +Carry this mad knave to the gaol. Father Baptista, +I charge you see that he be forthcoming. +VINCENTIO +Carry me to the gaol! +GREMIO +Stay, officer: he shall not go to prison. +BAPTISTA +Talk not, Signior Gremio: I say he shall go to prison. +GREMIO +Take heed, Signior Baptista, lest you be +cony-catched in this business: I dare swear this +is the right Vincentio. +Pedant +Swear, if thou darest. +GREMIO +Nay, I dare not swear it. +TRANIO +Then thou wert best say that I am not Lucentio. +GREMIO +Yes, I know thee to be Signior Lucentio. +BAPTISTA +Away with the dotard! to the gaol with him! +VINCENTIO +Thus strangers may be hailed and abused: O +monstrous villain! +Re-enter BIONDELLO, with LUCENTIO and BIANCA + +BIONDELLO +O! we are spoiled and--yonder he is: deny him, +forswear him, or else we are all undone. +LUCENTIO +[Kneeling] Pardon, sweet father. +VINCENTIO +Lives my sweet son? +Exeunt BIONDELLO, TRANIO, and Pedant, as fast as may be + +BIANCA +Pardon, dear father. +BAPTISTA +How hast thou offended? +Where is Lucentio? +LUCENTIO +Here's Lucentio, +Right son to the right Vincentio; +That have by marriage made thy daughter mine, +While counterfeit supposes bleared thine eyne. +GREMIO +Here's packing, with a witness to deceive us all! +VINCENTIO +Where is that damned villain Tranio, +That faced and braved me in this matter so? +BAPTISTA +Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio? +BIANCA +Cambio is changed into Lucentio. +LUCENTIO +Love wrought these miracles. Bianca's love +Made me exchange my state with Tranio, +While he did bear my countenance in the town; +And happily I have arrived at the last +Unto the wished haven of my bliss. +What Tranio did, myself enforced him to; +Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake. +VINCENTIO +I'll slit the villain's nose, that would have sent +me to the gaol. +BAPTISTA +But do you hear, sir? have you married my daughter +without asking my good will? +VINCENTIO +Fear not, Baptista; we will content you, go to: but +I will in, to be revenged for this villany. +Exit + +BAPTISTA +And I, to sound the depth of this knavery. +Exit + +LUCENTIO +Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will not frown. +Exeunt LUCENTIO and BIANCA + +GREMIO +My cake is dough; but I'll in among the rest, +Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast. +Exit + +KATHARINA +Husband, let's follow, to see the end of this ado. +PETRUCHIO +First kiss me, Kate, and we will. +KATHARINA +What, in the midst of the street? +PETRUCHIO +What, art thou ashamed of me? +KATHARINA +No, sir, God forbid; but ashamed to kiss. +PETRUCHIO +Why, then let's home again. Come, sirrah, let's away. +KATHARINA +Nay, I will give thee a kiss: now pray thee, love, stay. +PETRUCHIO +Is not this well? Come, my sweet Kate: +Better once than never, for never too late. +Exeunt + +SCENE II. Padua. LUCENTIO'S house. +Enter BAPTISTA, VINCENTIO, GREMIO, the Pedant, LUCENTIO, BIANCA, PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, HORTENSIO, and Widow, TRANIO, BIONDELLO, and GRUMIO the Serving-men with Tranio bringing in a banquet +LUCENTIO +At last, though long, our jarring notes agree: +And time it is, when raging war is done, +To smile at scapes and perils overblown. +My fair Bianca, bid my father welcome, +While I with self-same kindness welcome thine. +Brother Petruchio, sister Katharina, +And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow, +Feast with the best, and welcome to my house: +My banquet is to close our stomachs up, +After our great good cheer. Pray you, sit down; +For now we sit to chat as well as eat. +PETRUCHIO +Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat! +BAPTISTA +Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio. +PETRUCHIO +Padua affords nothing but what is kind. +HORTENSIO +For both our sakes, I would that word were true. +PETRUCHIO +Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow. +Widow +Then never trust me, if I be afeard. +PETRUCHIO +You are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense: +I mean, Hortensio is afeard of you. +Widow +He that is giddy thinks the world turns round. +PETRUCHIO +Roundly replied. +KATHARINA +Mistress, how mean you that? +Widow +Thus I conceive by him. +PETRUCHIO +Conceives by me! How likes Hortensio that? +HORTENSIO +My widow says, thus she conceives her tale. +PETRUCHIO +Very well mended. Kiss him for that, good widow. +KATHARINA +'He that is giddy thinks the world turns round:' +I pray you, tell me what you meant by that. +Widow +Your husband, being troubled with a shrew, +Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe: +And now you know my meaning, +KATHARINA +A very mean meaning. +Widow +Right, I mean you. +KATHARINA +And I am mean indeed, respecting you. +PETRUCHIO +To her, Kate! +HORTENSIO +To her, widow! +PETRUCHIO +A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down. +HORTENSIO +That's my office. +PETRUCHIO +Spoke like an officer; ha' to thee, lad! +Drinks to HORTENSIO + +BAPTISTA +How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks? +GREMIO +Believe me, sir, they butt together well. +BIANCA +Head, and butt! an hasty-witted body +Would say your head and butt were head and horn. +VINCENTIO +Ay, mistress bride, hath that awaken'd you? +BIANCA +Ay, but not frighted me; therefore I'll sleep again. +PETRUCHIO +Nay, that you shall not: since you have begun, +Have at you for a bitter jest or two! +BIANCA +Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush; +And then pursue me as you draw your bow. +You are welcome all. +Exeunt BIANCA, KATHARINA, and Widow + +PETRUCHIO +She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio. +This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not; +Therefore a health to all that shot and miss'd. +TRANIO +O, sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his greyhound, +Which runs himself and catches for his master. +PETRUCHIO +A good swift simile, but something currish. +TRANIO +'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself: +'Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay. +BAPTISTA +O ho, Petruchio! Tranio hits you now. +LUCENTIO +I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio. +HORTENSIO +Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here? +PETRUCHIO +A' has a little gall'd me, I confess; +And, as the jest did glance away from me, +'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright. +BAPTISTA +Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio, +I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all. +PETRUCHIO +Well, I say no: and therefore for assurance +Let's each one send unto his wife; +And he whose wife is most obedient +To come at first when he doth send for her, +Shall win the wager which we will propose. +HORTENSIO +Content. What is the wager? +LUCENTIO +Twenty crowns. +PETRUCHIO +Twenty crowns! +I'll venture so much of my hawk or hound, +But twenty times so much upon my wife. +LUCENTIO +A hundred then. +HORTENSIO +Content. +PETRUCHIO +A match! 'tis done. +HORTENSIO +Who shall begin? +LUCENTIO +That will I. +Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me. +BIONDELLO +I go. +Exit + +BAPTISTA +Son, I'll be your half, Bianca comes. +LUCENTIO +I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all myself. +Re-enter BIONDELLO + +How now! what news? +BIONDELLO +Sir, my mistress sends you word +That she is busy and she cannot come. +PETRUCHIO +How! she is busy and she cannot come! +Is that an answer? +GREMIO +Ay, and a kind one too: +Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse. +PETRUCHIO +I hope better. +HORTENSIO +Sirrah Biondello, go and entreat my wife +To come to me forthwith. +Exit BIONDELLO + +PETRUCHIO +O, ho! entreat her! +Nay, then she must needs come. +HORTENSIO +I am afraid, sir, +Do what you can, yours will not be entreated. +Re-enter BIONDELLO + +Now, where's my wife? +BIONDELLO +She says you have some goodly jest in hand: +She will not come: she bids you come to her. +PETRUCHIO +Worse and worse; she will not come! O vile, +Intolerable, not to be endured! +Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress; +Say, I command her to come to me. +Exit GRUMIO + +HORTENSIO +I know her answer. +PETRUCHIO +What? +HORTENSIO +She will not. +PETRUCHIO +The fouler fortune mine, and there an end. +BAPTISTA +Now, by my holidame, here comes Katharina! +Re-enter KATARINA + +KATHARINA +What is your will, sir, that you send for me? +PETRUCHIO +Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife? +KATHARINA +They sit conferring by the parlor fire. +PETRUCHIO +Go fetch them hither: if they deny to come. +Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands: +Away, I say, and bring them hither straight. +Exit KATHARINA + +LUCENTIO +Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. +HORTENSIO +And so it is: I wonder what it bodes. +PETRUCHIO +Marry, peace it bodes, and love and quiet life, +And awful rule and right supremacy; +And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy? +BAPTISTA +Now, fair befal thee, good Petruchio! +The wager thou hast won; and I will add +Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns; +Another dowry to another daughter, +For she is changed, as she had never been. +PETRUCHIO +Nay, I will win my wager better yet +And show more sign of her obedience, +Her new-built virtue and obedience. +See where she comes and brings your froward wives +As prisoners to her womanly persuasion. +Re-enter KATHARINA, with BIANCA and Widow + +Katharina, that cap of yours becomes you not: +Off with that bauble, throw it under-foot. +Widow +Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh, +Till I be brought to such a silly pass! +BIANCA +Fie! what a foolish duty call you this? +LUCENTIO +I would your duty were as foolish too: +The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca, +Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supper-time. +BIANCA +The more fool you, for laying on my duty. +PETRUCHIO +Katharina, I charge thee, tell these headstrong women +What duty they do owe their lords and husbands. +Widow +Come, come, you're mocking: we will have no telling. +PETRUCHIO +Come on, I say; and first begin with her. +Widow +She shall not. +PETRUCHIO +I say she shall: and first begin with her. +KATHARINA +Fie, fie! unknit that threatening unkind brow, +And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, +To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor: +It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads, +Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds, +And in no sense is meet or amiable. +A woman moved is like a fountain troubled, +Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty; +And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty +Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it. +Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, +Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, +And for thy maintenance commits his body +To painful labour both by sea and land, +To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, +Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe; +And craves no other tribute at thy hands +But love, fair looks and true obedience; +Too little payment for so great a debt. +Such duty as the subject owes the prince +Even such a woman oweth to her husband; +And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour, +And not obedient to his honest will, +What is she but a foul contending rebel +And graceless traitor to her loving lord? +I am ashamed that women are so simple +To offer war where they should kneel for peace; +Or seek for rule, supremacy and sway, +When they are bound to serve, love and obey. +Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth, +Unapt to toil and trouble in the world, +But that our soft conditions and our hearts +Should well agree with our external parts? +Come, come, you froward and unable worms! +My mind hath been as big as one of yours, +My heart as great, my reason haply more, +To bandy word for word and frown for frown; +But now I see our lances are but straws, +Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare, +That seeming to be most which we indeed least are. +Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot, +And place your hands below your husband's foot: +In token of which duty, if he please, +My hand is ready; may it do him ease. +PETRUCHIO +Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate. +LUCENTIO +Well, go thy ways, old lad; for thou shalt ha't. +VINCENTIO +'Tis a good hearing when children are toward. +LUCENTIO +But a harsh hearing when women are froward. +PETRUCHIO +Come, Kate, we'll to bed. +We three are married, but you two are sped. +To LUCENTIO + +'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white; +And, being a winner, God give you good night! +Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHARINA + +HORTENSIO +Now, go thy ways; thou hast tamed a curst shrew. +LUCENTIO +'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tamed so. +Exeunt