Jane Austin - Pride and Prejudice

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 ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What

could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort

of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to

decorum.”

“It shows 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 Miss 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 returned 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 sleep, and when it seemed to her rather right than

pleasant that she should go downstairs 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 be soon increased by seeing her

quite well.”

Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards the

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 looked 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 with 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

pianoforte 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 screens,

and net purses. I scarcely know anyone 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

screen. 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