VOLUME TWO

Chapter 1

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 ofmy 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 ofit, 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.