CHAPTER XII.

As soon as they were gone, Elizabeth walked out to recover her spirits;

or in other words, to dwell without interruption on those subjects that

must deaden them more. Mr. Darcy's behaviour astonished and vexed her.

"Why, if he came only to be silent, grave, and indifferent," said she,

"did he come at all?"

She could settle it in no way that gave her pleasure.

"He could be still amiable, still pleasing, to my uncle and aunt, when

he was in town; and why not to me? If he fears me, why come hither? If

he no longer cares for me, why silent? Teazing, teazing, man! I will

think no more about him."

Her resolution was for a short time involuntarily kept by the approach

of her sister, who joined her with a cheerful look, which shewed her

better satisfied with their visitors, than Elizabeth.

"Now," said she, "that this first meeting is over, I feel perfectly

easy. I know my own strength, and I shall never be embarrassed again by

his coming. I am glad he dines here on Tuesday. It will then be publicly

seen, that on both sides, we meet only as common and indifferent

acquaintance."

"Yes, very indifferent indeed," said Elizabeth, laughingly. "Oh, Jane,

take care."

"My dear Lizzy, you cannot think me so weak, as to be in danger now."

"I think you are in very great danger of making him as much in love with

you as ever."

* * * * *

They did not see the gentlemen again till Tuesday; and Mrs. Bennet, in

the meanwhile, was giving way to all the happy schemes, which the good

humour, and common politeness of Bingley, in half an hour's visit, had

revived.

On Tuesday there was a large party assembled at Longbourn; and the two,

who were most anxiously expected, to the credit of their punctuality as

sportsmen, were in very good time. When they repaired to the

dining-room, Elizabeth eagerly watched to see whether Bingley would take

the place, which, in all their former parties, had belonged to him, by

her sister. Her prudent mother, occupied by the same ideas, forbore to

invite him to sit by herself. On entering the room, he seemed to

hesitate; but Jane happened to look round, and happened to smile: it was

decided. He placed himself by her.

Elizabeth, with a triumphant sensation, looked towards his friend. He

bore it with noble indifference, and she would have imagined that

Bingley had received his sanction to be happy, had she not seen his eyes

likewise turned towards Mr. Darcy, with an expression of half-laughing

alarm.

His behaviour to her sister was such, during dinner time, as shewed an

admiration of her, which, though more guarded than formerly, persuaded

Elizabeth, that if left wholly to himself, Jane's happiness, and his

own, would be speedily secured. Though she dared not depend upon the

consequence, she yet received pleasure from observing his behaviour. It

gave her all the animation that her spirits could boast; for she was in

no cheerful humour. Mr. Darcy was almost as far from her, as the table

could divide them. He was on one side of her mother. She knew how little

such a situation would give pleasure to either, or make either appear to

advantage. She was not near enough to hear any of their discourse, but

she could see how seldom they spoke to each other, and how formal and

cold was their manner, whenever they did. Her mother's ungraciousness,

made the sense of what they owed him more painful to Elizabeth's mind;

and she would, at times, have given any thing to be privileged to tell

him, that his kindness was neither unknown nor unfelt by the whole of

the family.

She was in hopes that the evening would afford some opportunity of

bringing them together; that the whole of the visit would not pass away

without enabling them to enter into something more of conversation, than

the mere ceremonious salutation attending his entrance. Anxious and

uneasy, the period which passed in the drawing-room, before the

gentlemen came, was wearisome and dull to a degree, that almost made her

uncivil. She looked forward to their entrance, as the point on which all

her chance of pleasure for the evening must depend.

"If he does not come to me, _then_," said she, "I shall give him up for

ever."

The gentlemen came; and she thought he looked as if he would have

answered her hopes; but, alas! the ladies had crowded round the table,

where Miss Bennet was making tea, and Elizabeth pouring out the coffee,

in so close a confederacy, that there was not a single vacancy near her,

which would admit of a chair. And on the gentlemen's approaching, one of

the girls moved closer to her than ever, and said, in a whisper,

"The men shan't come and part us, I am determined. We want none of them;

do we?"

Darcy had walked away to another part of the room. She followed him with

her eyes, envied every one to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience

enough to help anybody to coffee; and then was enraged against herself

for being so silly!

"A man who has once been refused! How could I ever be foolish enough to

expect a renewal of his love? Is there one among the sex, who would not

protest against such a weakness as a second proposal to the same woman?

There is no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings!"

She was a little revived, however, by his bringing back his coffee cup

himself; and she seized the opportunity of saying,

"Is your sister at Pemberley still?"

"Yes, she will remain there till Christmas."

"And quite alone? Have all her friends left her?"

"Mrs. Annesley is with her. The others have been gone on to Scarborough,

these three weeks."

She could think of nothing more to say; but if he wished to converse

with her, he might have better success. He stood by her, however, for

some minutes, in silence; and, at last, on the young lady's whispering

to Elizabeth again, he walked away.

When the tea-things were removed, and the card tables placed, the ladies

all rose, and Elizabeth was then hoping to be soon joined by him, when

all her views were overthrown, by seeing him fall a victim to her

mother's rapacity for whist players, and in a few moments after seated

with the rest of the party. She now lost every expectation of pleasure.

They were confined for the evening at different tables, and she had

nothing to hope, but that his eyes were so often turned towards her side

of the room, as to make him play as unsuccessfully as herself.

Mrs. Bennet had designed to keep the two Netherfield gentlemen to

supper; but their carriage was unluckily ordered before any of the

others, and she had no opportunity of detaining them.

"Well girls," said she, as soon as they were left to themselves, "What

say you to the day? I think every thing has passed off uncommonly well,

I assure you. The dinner was as well dressed as any I ever saw. The

venison was roasted to a turn--and everybody said, they never saw so fat

a haunch. The soup was fifty times better than what we had at the

Lucas's last week; and even Mr. Darcy acknowledged, that the partridges

were remarkably well done; and I suppose he has two or three French

cooks at least. And, my dear Jane, I never saw you look in greater

beauty. Mrs. Long said so too, for I asked her whether you did not. And

what do you think she said besides? 'Ah! Mrs. Bennet, we shall have her

at Netherfield at last.' She did indeed. I do think Mrs. Long is as good

a creature as ever lived--and her nieces are very pretty behaved girls,

and not at all handsome: I like them prodigiously."

Mrs. Bennet, in short, was in very great spirits; she had seen enough of

Bingley's behaviour to Jane, to be convinced that she would get him at

last; and her expectations of advantage to her family, when in a happy

humour, were so far beyond reason, that she was quite disappointed at

not seeing him there again the next day, to make his proposals.

"It has been a very agreeable day," said Miss Bennet to Elizabeth. "The

party seemed so well selected, so suitable one with the other. I hope we

may often meet again."

Elizabeth smiled.

"Lizzy, you must not do so. You must not suspect me. It mortifies me. I

assure you that I have now learnt to enjoy his conversation as an

agreeable and sensible young man, without having a wish beyond it. I am

perfectly satisfied from what his manners now are, that he never had any

design of engaging my affection. It is only that he is blessed with

greater sweetness of address, and a stronger desire of generally

pleasing than any other man."

"You are very cruel," said her sister, "you will not let me smile, and

are provoking me to it every moment."

"How hard it is in some cases to be believed!"

"And how impossible in others!"

"But why should you wish to persuade me that I feel more than I

acknowledge?"

"That is a question which I hardly know how to answer. We all love to

instruct, though we can teach only what is not worth knowing. Forgive

me; and if you persist in indifference, do not make _me_ your

confidante."