Chapter 3

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 honor; 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 ere 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."