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> <VOLUME II> <CHAPTER I (24)>
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
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."