CHAPTER X.
The day passed much as the day before had done. Mrs. Hurst and MissBingley had spent some hours of the morning with the invalid, whocontinued, though slowly, to mend; and in the evening Elizabeth joinedtheir party in the drawing-room. The loo table, however, did not appear.Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watchingthe progress of his letter, and repeatedly calling off his attention bymessages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, andMrs. Hurst was observing their game.
Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused inattending to what passed between Darcy and his companion. The perpetualcommendations of the lady either on his hand-writing, or on the evennessof his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcernwith which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and wasexactly 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 theyear! 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 mendpens 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 beautifullittle design for a table, and I think it infinitely superior to MissGrantley's.
Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again?--Atpresent I have not room to do them justice.
Oh! it is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do youalways write such charming long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?
They are generally long; but whether always charming, it is not for meto determine.
It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter, withease, cannot write ill.
That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline, cried herbrother--because he does _not_ write with ease. He studies too much forwords 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 wayimaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest.
My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them--by whichmeans 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 ofhumility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes anindirect 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 inwriting, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity ofthought and carelessness of execution, which if not estimable, you thinkat least highly interesting. The power of doing any thing withquickness is always much prized by the possessor, and often without anyattention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Mrs.Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved on quitting Netherfieldyou should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort ofpanegyric, of compliment to yourself--and yet what is there so verylaudable in a precipitance which must leave very necessary businessundone, 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 thefoolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour, Ibelieved what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at thismoment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of needlessprecipitance merely to shew off before the ladies.
I dare say you believed it; but I am by no means convinced that youwould be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be quite asdependant on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you weremounting your horse, a friend were to say, 'Bingley, you had better staytill next week,' you would probably do it, you would probably notgo--and, at another word, might stay a month.
You have only proved by this, cried Elizabeth, that Mr. Bingley didnot do justice to his own disposition. You have shewn him off now muchmore than he did himself.
I am exceedingly gratified, said Bingley, by your converting what myfriend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I amafraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no meansintend; for he would certainly think the better of me, if under such acircumstance I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as Icould.
Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intentionas atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?
Upon my word I cannot exactly explain the matter, Darcy must speak forhimself.
You expect me to account for opinions which you chuse to call mine, butwhich I have never acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, to standaccording to your representation, you must remember, Miss Bennet, thatthe friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and thedelay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering oneargument in favour of its propriety.
To yield readily--easily--to the _persuasion_ of a friend is no meritwith you.
To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding ofeither.
You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence offriendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often makeone readily yield to a request, without waiting for arguments to reasonone into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case as you havesupposed about Mr. Bingley. We may as well wait, perhaps, till thecircumstance occurs, before we discuss the discretion of his behaviourthereupon. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and friend,where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of novery great moment, should you think ill of that person for complyingwith the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?
Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to arrangewith rather more precision the degree of importance which is toappertain to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsistingbetween the parties?
By all means, cried Bingley; let us hear all the particulars, notforgetting their comparative height and size; for that will have moreweight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. I assureyou that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison withmyself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do notknow a more aweful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and inparticular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday eveningwhen he has nothing to do.
Mr. Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thought she could perceive that he wasrather offended; and therefore checked her laugh. Miss Bingley warmlyresented the indignity he had received, in an expostulation with herbrother for talking such nonsense.
I see your design, Bingley, said his friend.--You dislike anargument, and want to silence this.
Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and MissBennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be verythankful; 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 Elizabethfor the indulgence of some music. Miss Bingley moved with alacrity tothe piano-forte, and after a polite request that Elizabeth would leadthe way, which the other as politely and more earnestly negatived, sheseated herself.
Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and while they were thus employedElizabeth could not help observing as she turned over some music booksthat lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr. Darcy's eyes were fixedon her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object ofadmiration to so great a man; and yet that he should look at her becausehe disliked her, was still more strange. She could only imagine howeverat last, that she drew his notice because there was a something abouther more wrong and reprehensible, according to his ideas of right, thanin any other person present. The supposition did not pain her. She likedhim too little to care for his approbation.
After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by alively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing nearElizabeth, said to her--
Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such anopportunity of dancing a reel?
She smiled, but made no answer. He repeated the question, with somesurprise at her silence.
Oh! said she, I heard you before; but I could not immediatelydetermine 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 alwaysdelight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person oftheir premeditated contempt. I have therefore made up my mind to tellyou, that I do not want to dance a reel at all--and now despise me ifyou dare.
Indeed I do not dare.
Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at hisgallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in hermanner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody; and Darcy hadnever been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He reallybelieved, that were it not for the inferiority of her connections, heshould be in some danger.
Miss Bingley saw, or suspected enough to be jealous; and her greatanxiety for the recovery of her dear friend Jane, received someassistance from her desire of getting rid of Elizabeth.
She often tried to provoke Darcy into disliking her guest, by talking oftheir supposed marriage, and planning his happiness in such an alliance.
I hope, said she, as they were walking together in the shrubbery thenext day, you will give your mother-in-law a few hints, when thisdesirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue;and if you can compass it, do cure the younger girls of running afterthe officers.--And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavour tocheck 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 beplaced in the gallery at Pemberley. Put them next to your great unclethe judge. They are in the same profession, you know; only in differentlines. As for your Elizabeth's picture, you must not attempt to have ittaken, for what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?
It would not be easy, indeed, to catch their expression, but theircolour and shape, and the eye-lashes, so remarkably fine, might becopied.
At that moment they were met from another walk, by Mrs. Hurst andElizabeth herself.
I did not know that you intended to walk, said Miss Bingley, in someconfusion, lest they had been overheard.
You used us abominably ill, answered Mrs. Hurst, in running awaywithout telling us that you were coming out.
Then taking the disengaged arm of Mr. Darcy, she left Elizabeth to walkby herself. The path just admitted three. Mr. Darcy felt their rudenessand immediately said,--
This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into theavenue.
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 touncommon advantage. The picturesque would be spoilt by admitting afourth. Good bye.
She then ran gaily off, rejoicing as she rambled about, in the hope ofbeing at home again in a day or two. Jane was already so much recoveredas to intend leaving her room for a couple of hours that evening.