CHAPTER XVII.

Elizabeth related to Jane the next day, what had passed between Mr.

Wickham and herself. Jane listened with astonishment and concern;--she

knew not how to believe that Mr. Darcy could be so unworthy of Mr.

Bingley's regard; and yet, it was not in her nature to question the

veracity of a young man of such amiable appearance as Wickham.--The

possibility of his having really endured such unkindness, was enough to

interest all her tender feelings; and nothing therefore remained to be

done, but to think well of them both, to defend the conduct of each, and

throw into the account of accident or mistake, whatever could not be

otherwise explained.

"They have both," said she, "been deceived, I dare say, in some way or

other, of which we can form no idea. Interested people have perhaps

misrepresented each to the other. It is, in short, impossible for us to

conjecture the causes or circumstances which may have alienated them,

without actual blame on either side."

"Very true, indeed;--and now, my dear Jane, what have you got to say in

behalf of the interested people who have probably been concerned in the

business?--Do clear _them_ too, or we shall be obliged to think ill of

somebody."

"Laugh as much as you chuse, but you will not laugh me out of my

opinion. My dearest Lizzy, do but consider in what a disgraceful light

it places Mr. Darcy, to be treating his father's favourite in such a

manner,--one, whom his father had promised to provide for.--It is

impossible. No man of common humanity, no man who had any value for his

character, could be capable of it. Can his most intimate friends be so

excessively deceived in him? oh! no."

"I can much more easily believe Mr. Bingley's being imposed on, than

that Mr. Wickham should invent such a history of himself as he gave me

last night; names, facts, every thing mentioned without ceremony.--If it

be not so, let Mr. Darcy contradict it. Besides, there was truth in his

looks."

"It is difficult indeed--it is distressing.--One does not know what to

think."

"I beg your pardon;--one knows exactly what to think."

But Jane could think with certainty on only one point,--that Mr.

Bingley, if he _had been_ imposed on, would have much to suffer when the

affair became public.

The two young ladies were summoned from the shrubbery where this

conversation passed, by the arrival of some of the very persons of whom

they had been speaking; Mr. Bingley and his sisters came to give their

personal invitation for the long expected ball at Netherfield, which was

fixed for the following Tuesday. The two ladies were delighted to see

their dear friend again, called it an age since they had met, and

repeatedly asked what she had been doing with herself since their

separation. To the rest of the family they paid little attention;

avoiding Mrs. Bennet as much as possible, saying not much to Elizabeth,

and nothing at all to the others. They were soon gone again, rising from

their seats with an activity which took their brother by surprise, and

hurrying off as if eager to escape from Mrs. Bennet's civilities.

The prospect of the Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable to every

female of the family. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as given in

compliment to her eldest daughter, and was particularly flattered by

receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley himself, instead of a

ceremonious card. Jane pictured to herself a happy evening in the

society of her two friends, and the attentions of their brother; and

Elizabeth thought with pleasure of dancing a great deal with Mr.

Wickham, and of seeing a confirmation of every thing in Mr. Darcy's

looks and behaviour. The happiness anticipated by Catherine and Lydia,

depended less on any single event, or any particular person, for though

they each, like Elizabeth, meant to dance half the evening with Mr.

Wickham, he was by no means the only partner who could satisfy them, and

a ball was at any rate, a ball. And even Mary could assure her family

that she had no disinclination for it.

"While I can have my mornings to myself," said she, "it is enough.--I

think it no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening engagements.

Society has claims on us all; and I profess myself one of those who

consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable for every

body."

Elizabeth's spirits were so high on the occasion, that though she did

not often speak unnecessarily to Mr. Collins, she could not help asking

him whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley's invitation, and if he

did, whether he would think it proper to join in the evening's

amusement; and she was rather surprised to find that he entertained no

scruple whatever on that head, and was very far from dreading a rebuke

either from the Archbishop, or Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by venturing to

dance.

"I am by no means of opinion, I assure you," said he, "that a ball of

this kind, given by a young man of character, to respectable people, can

have any evil tendency; and I am so far from objecting to dancing myself

that I shall hope to be honoured with the hands of all my fair cousins

in the course of the evening, and I take this opportunity of soliciting

yours, Miss Elizabeth, for the two first dances especially,--a

preference which I trust my cousin Jane will attribute to the right

cause, and not to any disrespect for her."

Elizabeth felt herself completely taken in. She had fully proposed being

engaged by Wickham for those very dances:--and to have Mr. Collins

instead! her liveliness had been never worse timed. There was no help

for it however. Mr. Wickham's happiness and her own was per force

delayed a little longer, and Mr. Collins's proposal accepted with as

good a grace as she could. She was not the better pleased with his

gallantry, from the idea it suggested of something more.--It now first

struck her, that _she_ was selected from among her sisters as worthy of

being the mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a

quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors.

The idea soon reached to conviction, as she observed his increasing

civilities toward herself, and heard his frequent attempt at a

compliment on her wit and vivacity; and though more astonished than

gratified herself, by this effect of her charms, it was not long before

her mother gave her to understand that the probability of their marriage

was exceedingly agreeable to _her_. Elizabeth however did not chuse to

take the hint, being well aware that a serious dispute must be the

consequence of any reply. Mr. Collins might never make the offer, and

till he did, it was useless to quarrel about him.

If there had not been a Netherfield ball to prepare for and talk of, the

younger Miss Bennets would have been in a pitiable state at this time,

for from the day of the invitation, to the day of the ball, there was

such a succession of rain as prevented their walking to Meryton once. No

aunt, no officers, no news could be sought after;--the very shoe-roses

for Netherfield were got by proxy. Even Elizabeth might have found some

trial of her patience in weather, which totally suspended the

improvement of her acquaintance with Mr. Wickham; and nothing less than

a dance on Tuesday, could have made such a Friday, Saturday, Sunday and

Monday, endurable to Kitty and Lydia.