CHAPTER XVII.

"My dear Lizzy, where can you have been walking to?" was a question

which Elizabeth received from Jane as soon as she entered the room, and

from all the others when they sat down to table. She had only to say in

reply, that they had wandered about, till she was beyond her own

knowledge. She coloured as she spoke; but neither that, nor any thing

else, awakened a suspicion of the truth.

The evening passed quietly, unmarked by any thing extraordinary. The

acknowledged lovers talked and laughed, the unacknowledged were silent.

Darcy was not of a disposition in which happiness overflows in mirth;

and Elizabeth, agitated and confused, rather _knew_ that she was happy,

than _felt_ herself to be so; for, besides the immediate embarrassment,

there were other evils before her. She anticipated what would be felt in

the family when her situation became known; she was aware that no one

liked him but Jane; and even feared that with the others it was a

_dislike_ which not all his fortune and consequence might do away.

At night she opened her heart to Jane. Though suspicion was very far

from Miss Bennet's general habits, she was absolutely incredulous here.

"You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be!--engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no,

you shall not deceive me. I know it to be impossible."

"This is a wretched beginning indeed! My sole dependence was on you; and

I am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I am

in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we are

engaged."

Jane looked at her doubtingly. "Oh, Lizzy! it cannot be. I know how much

you dislike him."

"You know nothing of the matter. _That_ is all to be forgot. Perhaps I

did not always love him so well as I do now. But in such cases as these,

a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever

remember it myself."

Miss Bennet still looked all amazement. Elizabeth again, and more

seriously assured her of its truth.

"Good Heaven! can it be really so! Yet now I must believe you," cried

Jane. "My dear, dear Lizzy, I would--I do congratulate you--but are you

certain? forgive the question--are you quite certain that you can be

happy with him?"

"There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already, that

we are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased,

Jane? Shall you like to have such a brother?"

"Very, very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more

delight. But we considered it, we talked of it as impossible. And do you

really love him quite well enough? Oh, Lizzy! do any thing rather than

marry without affection. Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought

to do?"

"Oh, yes! You will only think I feel _more_ than I ought to do, when I

tell you all."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, I must confess, that I love him better than I do Bingley. I am

afraid you will be angry."

"My dearest sister, now _be_ be serious. I want to talk very seriously.

Let me know every thing that I am to know, without delay. Will you tell

me how long you have loved him?"

"It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began.

But I believe I must date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds

at Pemberley."

Another intreaty that she would be serious, however, produced the

desired effect; and she soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances of

attachment. When convinced on that article, Miss Bennet had nothing

farther to wish.

"Now I am quite happy," said she, "for you will be as happy as myself. I

always had a value for him. Were it for nothing but his love of you, I

must always have esteemed him; but now, as Bingley's friend and your

husband, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. But

Lizzy, you have been very sly, very reserved with me. How little did you

tell me of what passed at Pemberley and Lambton! I owe all that I know

of it, to another, not to you."

Elizabeth told her the motives of her secrecy. She had been unwilling to

mention Bingley; and the unsettled state of her own feelings had made

her equally avoid the name of his friend. But now she would no longer

conceal from her, his share in Lydia's marriage. All was acknowledged,

and half the night spent in conversation.

* * * * *

"Good gracious!" cried Mrs. Bennet, as she stood at a window the next

morning, "if that disagreeable Mr. Darcy is not coming here again with

our dear Bingley! What can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always

coming here? I had no notion but he would go a shooting, or something or

other, and not disturb us with his company. What shall we do with him?

Lizzy, you must walk out with him again, that he may not be in Bingley's

way."

Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at so convenient a proposal; yet

was really vexed that her mother should be always giving him such an

epithet.

As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at her so expressively, and

shook hands with such warmth, as left no doubt of his good information;

and he soon afterwards said aloud, "Mr. Bennet, have you no more lanes

hereabouts in which Lizzy may lose her way again to-day?"

"I advise Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty," said Mrs. Bennet, "to walk

to Oakham Mount this morning. It is a nice long walk, and Mr. Darcy has

never seen the view."

"It may do very well for the others," replied Mr. Bingley; "but I am

sure it will be too much for Kitty. Wont it, Kitty?"

Kitty owned that she had rather stay at home. Darcy professed a great

curiosity to see the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently

consented. As she went up stairs to get ready, Mrs. Bennet followed her,

saying,

"I am quite sorry, Lizzy, that you should be forced to have that

disagreeable man all to yourself. But I hope you will not mind it: it is

all for Jane's sake, you know; and there is no occasion for talking to

him, except just now and then. So, do not put yourself to

inconvenience."

During their walk, it was resolved that Mr. Bennet's consent should be

asked in the course of the evening. Elizabeth reserved to herself the

application for her mother's. She could not determine how her mother

would take it; sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeur

would be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man. But whether she

were violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it, it

was certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit to

her sense; and she could no more bear that Mr. Darcy should hear the

first raptures of her joy, than the first vehemence of her

disapprobation.

* * * * *

In the evening, soon after Mr. Bennet withdrew to the library, she saw

Mr. Darcy rise also and follow him, and her agitation on seeing it was

extreme. She did not fear her father's opposition, but he was going to

be made unhappy, and that it should be through her means, that _she_,

his favourite child, should be distressing him by her choice, should be

filling him with fears and regrets in disposing of her, was a wretched

reflection, and she sat in misery till Mr. Darcy appeared again, when,

looking at him, she was a little relieved by his smile. In a few minutes

he approached the table where she was sitting with Kitty; and, while

pretending to admire her work, said in a whisper, "Go to your father, he

wants you in the library." She was gone directly.

Her father was walking about the room, looking grave and anxious.

"Lizzy," said he, "what are you doing? Are you out of your senses, to be

accepting this man? Have not you always hated him?"

How earnestly did she then wish that her former opinions had been more

reasonable, her expressions more moderate! It would have spared her from

explanations and professions which it was exceedingly awkward to give;

but they were now necessary, and she assured him with some confusion, of

her attachment to Mr. Darcy.

"Or in other words, you are determined to have him. He is rich, to be

sure, and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than Jane.

But will they make you happy?"

"Have you any other objection," said Elizabeth, "than your belief of my

indifference?"

"None at all. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; but

this would be nothing if you really liked him."

"I do, I do like him," she replied, with tears in her eyes, "I love him.

Indeed he has no improper pride. He is perfectly amiable. You do not

know what he really is; then pray do not pain me by speaking of him in

such terms."

"Lizzy," said her father, "I have given him my consent. He is the kind

of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse any thing, which he

condescended to ask. I now give it to _you_, if you are resolved on

having him. But let me advise you to think better of it. I know your

disposition, Lizzy. I know that you could be neither happy nor

respectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband; unless you looked

up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the

greatest danger in an unequal marriage. You could scarcely escape

discredit and misery. My child, let me not have the grief of seeing

_you_ unable to respect your partner in life. You know not what you are

about."

Elizabeth, still more affected, was earnest and solemn in her reply;

and at length, by repeated assurances that Mr. Darcy was really the

object of her choice, by explaining the gradual change which her

estimation of him had undergone, relating her absolute certainty that

his affection was not the work of a day, but had stood the test of many

months suspense, and enumerating with energy all his good qualities, she

did conquer her father's incredulity, and reconcile him to the match.

"Well, my dear," said he, when she ceased speaking, "I have no more to

say. If this be the case, he deserves you. I could not have parted with

you, my Lizzy, to any one less worthy."

To complete the favourable impression, she then told him what Mr. Darcy

had voluntarily done for Lydia. He heard her with astonishment.

"This is an evening of wonders, indeed! And so, Darcy did every thing;

made up the match, gave the money, paid the fellow's debts, and got him

his commission! So much the better. It will save me a world of trouble

and economy. Had it been your uncle's doing, I must and _would_ have

paid him; but these violent young lovers carry every thing their own

way. I shall offer to pay him to-morrow; he will rant and storm about

his love for you, and there will be an end of the matter."

He then recollected her embarrassment a few days before, on his reading

Mr. Collins's letter; and after laughing at her some time, allowed her

at last to go--saying, as she quitted the room, "If any young men come

for Mary or Kitty, send them in, for I am quite at leisure."

Elizabeth's mind was now relieved from a very heavy weight; and, after

half an hour's quiet reflection in her own room, she was able to join

the others with tolerable composure. Every thing was too recent for

gaiety, but the evening passed tranquilly away; there was no longer any

thing material to be dreaded, and the comfort of ease and familiarity

would come in time.

When her mother went up to her dressing-room at night, she followed her,

and made the important communication. Its effect was most

extraordinary; for on first hearing it, Mrs. Bennet sat quite still, and

unable to utter a syllable. Nor was it under many, many minutes, that

she could comprehend what she heard; though not in general backward to

credit what was for the advantage of her family, or that came in the

shape of a lover to any of them. She began at length to recover, to

fidget about in her chair, get up, sit down again, wonder, and bless

herself.

"Good gracious! Lord bless me! only think! dear me! Mr. Darcy! Who would

have thought it! And is it really true? Oh! my sweetest Lizzy! how rich

and how great you will be! What pin-money, what jewels, what carriages

you will have! Jane's is nothing to it--nothing at all. I am so

pleased--so happy. Such a charming man!--so handsome! so tall!--Oh, my

dear Lizzy! pray apologise for my having disliked him so much before. I

hope he will overlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town! Every thing

that is charming! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh,

Lord! What will become of me. I shall go distracted."

This was enough to prove that her approbation need not be doubted: and

Elizabeth, rejoicing that such an effusion was heard only by herself,

soon went away. But before she had been three minutes in her own room,

her mother followed her.

"My dearest child," she cried, "I can think of nothing else! Ten

thousand a year, and very likely more! 'Tis as good as a Lord! And a

special licence. You must and shall be married by a special licence. But

my dearest love, tell me what dish Mr. Darcy is particularly fond of,

that I may have it to-morrow."

This was a sad omen of what her mother's behaviour to the gentleman

himself might be; and Elizabeth found, that though in the certain

possession of his warmest affection, and secure of her relations'

consent, there was still something to be wished for. But the morrow

passed off much better than she expected; for Mrs. Bennet luckily stood

in such awe of her intended son-in-law, that she ventured not to speak

to him, unless it was in her power to offer him any attention, or mark

her deference for his opinion.

Elizabeth had the satisfaction of seeing her father taking pains to get

acquainted with him; and Mr. Bennet soon assured her that he was rising

every hour in his esteem.

"I admire all my three sons-in-law highly," said he. "Wickham, perhaps,

is my favourite; but I think I shall like _your_ husband quite as well

as Jane's."