CHAPTER X.

The day passed much as the day before had done. Mrs. Hurst and Miss

Bingley had spent some hours of the morning with the invalid, who

continued, though slowly, to mend; and in the evening Elizabeth joined

their party in the drawing-room. The loo table, however, did not appear.

Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching

the progress of his letter, and repeatedly calling off his attention by

messages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and

Mrs. Hurst was observing their game.

Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused in

attending to what passed between Darcy and his companion. The perpetual

commendations of the lady either on his hand-writing, or on the evenness

of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern

with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and was

exactly 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 the

year! 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 mend

pens 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 beautiful

little design for a table, and I think it infinitely superior to Miss

Grantley's."

"Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again?--At

present I have not room to do them justice."

"Oh! it is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do you

always write such charming long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?"

"They are generally long; but whether always charming, it is not for me

to determine."

"It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter, with

ease, cannot write ill."

"That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline," cried her

brother--"because he does _not_ write with ease. He studies too much for

words 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 way

imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest."

"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them--by which

means 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 of

humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an

indirect 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 in

writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of

thought and carelessness of execution, which if not estimable, you think

at least highly interesting. The power of doing any thing with

quickness is always much prized by the possessor, and often without any

attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Mrs.

Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved on quitting Netherfield

you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of

panegyric, of compliment to yourself--and yet what is there so very

laudable in a precipitance which must leave very necessary business

undone, 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 the

foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour, I

believed what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this

moment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of needless

precipitance merely to shew off before the ladies."

"I dare say you believed it; but I am by no means convinced that you

would be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be quite as

dependant on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were

mounting your horse, a friend were to say, 'Bingley, you had better stay

till next week,' you would probably do it, you would probably not

go--and, at another word, might stay a month."

"You have only proved by this," cried Elizabeth, "that Mr. Bingley did

not do justice to his own disposition. You have shewn him off now much

more than he did himself."

"I am exceedingly gratified," said Bingley, "by your converting what my

friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I am

afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no means

intend; for he would certainly think the better of me, if under such a

circumstance I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I

could."

"Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intention

as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?"

"Upon my word I cannot exactly explain the matter, Darcy must speak for

himself."

"You expect me to account for opinions which you chuse to call mine, but

which I have never acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, to stand

according to your representation, you must remember, Miss Bennet, that

the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and the

delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering one

argument in favour of its propriety."

"To yield readily--easily--to the _persuasion_ of a friend is no merit

with you."

"To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of

either."

"You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of

friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often make

one readily yield to a request, without waiting for arguments to reason

one into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case as you have

supposed about Mr. Bingley. We may as well wait, perhaps, till the

circumstance occurs, before we discuss the discretion of his behaviour

thereupon. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and friend,

where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no

very great moment, should you think ill of that person for complying

with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?"

"Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to arrange

with rather more precision the degree of importance which is to

appertain to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsisting

between the parties?"

"By all means," cried Bingley; "let us hear all the particulars, not

forgetting their comparative height and size; for that will have more

weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. I assure

you that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with

myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not

know a more aweful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in

particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening

when he has nothing to do."

Mr. Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thought she could perceive that he was

rather offended; and therefore checked her laugh. Miss Bingley warmly

resented the indignity he had received, in an expostulation with her

brother for talking such nonsense.

"I see your design, Bingley," said his friend.--"You dislike an

argument, and want to silence this."

"Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and Miss

Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very

thankful; 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 Elizabeth

for the indulgence of some music. Miss Bingley moved with alacrity to

the piano-forte, and after a polite request that Elizabeth would lead

the way, which the other as politely and more earnestly negatived, she

seated herself.

Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and while they were thus employed

Elizabeth could not help observing as she turned over some music books

that lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr. Darcy's eyes were fixed

on her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of

admiration to so great a man; and yet that he should look at her because

he disliked her, was still more strange. She could only imagine however

at last, that she drew his notice because there was a something about

her more wrong and reprehensible, according to his ideas of right, than

in any other person present. The supposition did not pain her. She liked

him too little to care for his approbation.

After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by a

lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing near

Elizabeth, said to her--

"Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an

opportunity of dancing a reel?"

She smiled, but made no answer. He repeated the question, with some

surprise at her silence.

"Oh!" said she, "I heard you before; but I could not immediately

determine 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 always

delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of

their premeditated contempt. I have therefore made up my mind to tell

you, that I do not want to dance a reel at all--and now despise me if

you dare."

"Indeed I do not dare."

Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his

gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her

manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody; and Darcy had

never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really

believed, that were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he

should be in some danger.

Miss Bingley saw, or suspected enough to be jealous; and her great

anxiety for the recovery of her dear friend Jane, received some

assistance from her desire of getting rid of Elizabeth.

She often tried to provoke Darcy into disliking her guest, by talking of

their supposed marriage, and planning his happiness in such an alliance.

"I hope," said she, as they were walking together in the shrubbery the

next day, "you will give your mother-in-law a few hints, when this

desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue;

and if you can compass it, do cure the younger girls of running after

the officers.--And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavour to

check 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 be

placed in the gallery at Pemberley. Put them next to your great uncle

the judge. They are in the same profession, you know; only in different

lines. As for your Elizabeth's picture, you must not attempt to have it

taken, for what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?"

"It would not be easy, indeed, to catch their expression, but their

colour and shape, and the eye-lashes, so remarkably fine, might be

copied."

At that moment they were met from another walk, by Mrs. Hurst and

Elizabeth herself.

"I did not know that you intended to walk," said Miss Bingley, in some

confusion, lest they had been overheard.

"You used us abominably ill," answered Mrs. Hurst, "in running away

without telling us that you were coming out."

Then taking the disengaged arm of Mr. Darcy, she left Elizabeth to walk

by herself. The path just admitted three. Mr. Darcy felt their rudeness

and immediately said,--

"This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into the

avenue."

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 to

uncommon advantage. The picturesque would be spoilt by admitting a

fourth. Good bye."

She then ran gaily off, rejoicing as she rambled about, in the hope of

being at home again in a day or two. Jane was already so much recovered

as to intend leaving her room for a couple of hours that evening.