Chapter 27

by Jane Austen

　　With no greater events than these in the Longbourn family, andotherwise diversified by little beyond the walks to Meryton,sometimes dirty and sometimes cold, did January and Februarypass away. March was to take Elizabeth to Hunsford. She hadnot at first thought very seriously of going thither; but Charlotte,she soon found, was depending on the plan and she graduallylearned to consider it herself with greater pleasure as well asgreater certainty. Absence had increased her desire of seeingCharlotte again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. Collins. Therewas novelty in the scheme, and as, with such a mother and suchuncompanionable sisters, home could not be faultless, a littlechange was not unwelcome for its own sake. The journeywould moreover give her a peep at Jane; and, in short, as thetime drew near, she would have been very sorry for any delay.Everything, however, went on smoothly, and was finally settledaccording to Charlotte's first sketch. She was to accompany SirWilliam and his second daughter. The improvement of spendinga night in London was added in time, and the plan becameperfect as plan could be.The only pain was in leaving her father, who would certainlymiss her, and who, when it came to the point, so little liked hergoing, that he told her to write to him, and almost promised toanswer her letter.The farewell between herself and Mr. Wickham was perfectlyfriendly; on his side even more. His present pursuit could notmake him forget that Elizabeth had been the first to excite and todeserve his attention, the first to listen and to pity, the first to beadmired; and in his manner of bidding her adieu, wishing herevery enjoyment, reminding her of what she was to expect inLady Catherine de Bourgh, and trusting their opinion of her--their opinion of everybody-- would always coincide, there was asolicitude, an interest which she felt must ever attach her to himwith a most sincere regard; and she parted from him convincedthat, whether married or single, he must always be her model ofthe amiable and pleasing.Her fellow-travellers the next day were not of a kind to make herthink him less agreeable. Sir William Lucas, and his daughterMaria, a good-humoured girl, but as empty-headed as himself,had nothing to say that could be worth hearing, and werelistened to with about as much delight as the rattle of the chaise.Elizabeth loved absurdities, but she had known Sir William's toolong. He could tell her nothing new of the wonders of hispresentation and knighthood; and his civilities were worn out,like his information.It was a journey of only twenty-four miles, and they began it soearly as to be in Gracechurch Street by noon. As they drove toMr. Gardiner's door, Jane was at a drawing-room windowwatching their arrival; when they entered the passage she wasthere to welcome them, and Elizabeth, looking earnestly in herface, was pleased to see it healthful and lovely as ever. On thestairs were a troop of little boys and girls, whose eagerness fortheir cousin's appearance would not allow them to wait in thedrawing-room, and whose shyness, as they had not seen her fora twelvemonth, prevented their coming lower. All was joy andkindness. The day passed most pleasantly away; the morning inbustle and shopping, and the evening at one of the theatres.Elizabeth then contrived to sit by her aunt. Their first object washer sister; and she was more grieved than astonished to hear, inreply to her minute inquiries, that though Jane always struggledto support her spirits, there were periods of dejection. It wasreasonable, however, to hope that they would not continue long.Mrs. Gardiner gave her the particulars also of Miss Bingley'svisit in Gracechurch Street, and repeated conversationsoccurring at different times between Jane and herself, whichproved that the former had, from her heart, given up theacquaintance.Mrs. Gardiner then rallied her niece on Wickham's desertion,and complimented her on bearing it so well."But my dear Elizabeth," she added, "what sort of girl is MissKing? I should be sorry to think our friend mercenary.""Pray, my dear aunt, what is the difference in matrimonialaffairs, between the mercenary and the prudent motive? Wheredoes discretion end, and avarice begin? Last Christmas youwere afraid of his marrying me, because it would be imprudent;and now, because he is trying to get a girl with only tenthousand pounds, you want to find out that he is mercenary.""If you will only tell me what sort of girl Miss King is, I shallknow what to think.""She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I know no harm ofher.""But he paid her not the smallest attention till her grandfather'sdeath made her mistress of this fortune.""No-- what should he? If it were not allowable for him to gainmy affections because I had no money, what occasion couldthere be for making love to a girl whom he did not care about,and who was equally poor?""But there seems an indelicacy in directing his attentionstowards her so soon after this event.""A man in distressed circumstances has not time for all thoseelegant decorums which other people may observe. If she doesnot object to it, why should we?""Her not objecting does not justify him. It only shows herbeing deficient in something herself-- sense or feeling.""Well," cried Elizabeth, "have it as you choose. He shall bemercenary, and she shall be foolish.""No, Lizzy, that is what I do not choose. I should be sorry,you know, to think ill of a young man who has lived so long inDerbyshire.""Oh! if that is all, I have a very poor opinion of young men wholive in Derbyshire; and their intimate friends who live inHertfordshire are not much better. I am sick of them all. ThankHeaven! I am going tomorrow where I shall find a man who hasnot one agreeable quality, who has neither manner nor sense torecommend him. Stupid men are the only ones worth knowing,after all.""Take care, Lizzy; that speech savours strongly ofdisappointment."Before they were separated by the conclusion of the play, shehad the unexpected happiness of an invitation to accompany heruncle and aunt in a tour of pleasure which they proposed takingin the summer."We have not determined how far it shall carry us," said Mrs.Gardiner, "but, perhaps, to the Lakes."No scheme could have been more agreeable to Elizabeth, andher acceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful."Oh, my dear, dear aunt," she rapturously cried, "what delight!what felicity! You give me fresh life and vigour. Adieu todisappointment and spleen. What are young men to rocks andmountains? Oh! what hours of transport we shall spend! Andwhen we do return, it shall not be like other travellers, withoutbeing able to give one accurate idea of anything. We willknow where we have gone-- we will recollect what we haveseen. Lakes, mountains, and rivers shall not be jumbled togetherin our imaginations; nor when we attempt to describe anyparticular scene, will we begin quarreling about its relativesituation. Let our first effusions be less insupportable thanthose of the generality of travellers."