Chapter 36

by Jane Austen

　　If Elizabeth, when Mr. Darcy gave her the letter, did not expectit to contain a renewal of his offers, she had formed noexpectation at all of its contents. But such as they were, it maywell be supposed how eagerly she went through them, and whata contrariety of emotion they excited. Her feelings as she readwere scarcely to be defined. With amazement did she firstunderstand that he believed any apology to be in his power; andsteadfastly was she persuaded, that he could have no explanationto give, which a just sense of shame would not conceal. With astrong prejudice against everything he might say, she began hisaccount of what had happened at Netherfield. She read with aneagerness which hardly left her power of comprehension, andfrom impatience of knowing what the next sentence might bring,was incapable of attending to the sense of the one before hereyes. His belief of her sister's insensibility she instantly resolvedto be false; and his account of the real, the worst objections tothe match, made her too angry to have any wish of doing himjustice. He expressed no regret for what he had done whichsatisfied her; his style was not penitent, but haughty. It was allpride and insolence.But when this subject was succeeded by his account of Mr.Wickham-- when she read with somewhat clearer attention arelation of events which, if true, must overthrow every cherishedopinion of his worth, and which bore so alarming an affinity tohis own history of himself-- her feelings were yet more acutelypainful and more difficult of definition. Astonishment,apprehension, and even horror, oppressed her. She wished todiscredit it entirely, repeatedly exclaiming, "This must be false!This cannot be! This must be the grossest falsehood!"-- andwhen she had gone through the whole letter, though scarcelyknowing anything of the last page or two, put it hastily away,protesting that she would not regard it, that she would neverlook in it again.In this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts that could rest onnothing, she walked on; but it would not do; in half a minute theletter was unfolded again, and collecting herself as well as shecould, she again began the mortifying perusal of all that relatedto Wickham, and commanded herself so far as to examine themeaning of every sentence. The account of his connection withthe Pemberley family was exactly what he had related himself;and the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy, though she had notbefore known its extent, agreed equally well with his ownwords. So far each recital confirmed the other; but when shecame to the will, the difference was great. What Wickham hadsaid of the living was fresh in her memory, and as she recalledhis very words, it was impossible not to feel that there was grossduplicity on one side or the other; and, for a few moments, sheflattered herself that her wishes did not err. But when she readand re-read with the closest attention, the particularsimmediately following of Wickham's resigning all pretensions tothe living, of his receiving in lieu so considerable a sum as threethousand pounds, again was she forced to hesitate. She putdown the letter, weighed every circumstance with what shemeant to be impartiality-- deliberated on the probability of eachstatement-- but with little success. On both sides it was onlyassertion. Again she read on; but every line proved more clearlythat the affair, which she had believed it impossible that anycontrivance could so represent as to render Mr. Darcy's conductin it less than infamous, was capable of a turn which must makehim entirely blameless throughout the whole.The extravagance and general profligacy which he scrupled notto lay at Mr. Wickham's charge, exceedingly shocked her; themore so, as she could bring no proof of its injustice. She hadnever heard of him before his entrance into the ----shire Militia,in which he had engaged at the persuasion of the young manwho, on meeting him accidentally in town, had there renewed aslight acquaintance. Of his former way of life nothing had beenknown in Hertfordshire but what he told himself. As to his realcharacter, had information been in her power, she had never felta wish of inquiring. His countenance, voice, and manner hadestablished him at once in the possession of every virtue. Shetried to recollect some instance of goodness, some distinguishedtrait of integrity or benevolence, that might rescue him from theattacks of Mr. Darcy; or at least, by the predominance of virtue,atone for those casual errors under which she would endeavourto class what Mr. Darcy had described as the idleness and vice ofmany years' continuance. But no such recollection befriendedher. She could see him instantly before her, in every charm ofair and address; but she could remember no more substantialgood than the general approbation of the neighbourhood, andthe regard which his social powers had gained him in the mess.After pausing on this point a considerable while, she once morecontinued to read. But, alas! the story which followed, of hisdesigns on Miss Darcy, received some confirmation from whathad passed between Colonel Fitzwilliam and herself only themorning before; and at last she was referred for the truth ofevery particular to Colonel Fitzwilliam himself-- from whom shehad previously received the information of his near concern in allhis cousin's affairs, and whose character she had no reason toquestion. At one time she had almost resolved on applying tohim, but the idea was checked by the awkwardness of theapplication, and at length wholly banished by the conviction thatMr. Darcy would never have hazarded such a proposal, if he hadnot been well assured of his cousin's corroboration.She perfectly remembered everything that had passed inconversation between Wickham and herself, in their first eveningat Mr. Phillips's. Many of his expressions were still fresh in hermemory. She was now struck with the impropriety of suchcommunications to a stranger, and wondered it had escaped herbefore. She saw the indelicacy of putting himself forward as hehad done, and the inconsistency of his professions with hisconduct. She remembered that he had boasted of having no fearof seeing Mr. Darcy-- that Mr. Darcy might leave the country,but that he should stand his ground; yet he had avoided theNetherfield ball the very next week. She remembered also that,till the Netherfield family had quitted the country, he had told hisstory to no one but herself; but that after their removal it hadbeen everywhere discussed; that he had then no reserves, noscruples in sinking Mr. Darcy's character, though he had assuredher that respect for the father would always prevent his exposingthe son.How differently did everything now appear in which he wasconcerned! His attentions to Miss King were now theconsequence of views solely and hatefully mercenary; and themediocrity of her fortune proved no longer the moderation of hiswishes, but his eagerness to grasp at anything. His behaviour toherself could now have had no tolerable motive; he had eitherbeen deceived with regard to her fortune, or had been gratifyinghis vanity by encouraging the preference which she believed shehad most incautiously shown. Every lingering struggle in hisfavour grew fainter and fainter; and in farther justification of Mr.Darcy, she could not but allow Mr. Bingley, when questioned byJane, had long ago asserted his blamelessness in the affair; thatproud and repulsive as were his manners, she had never, in thewhole course of their acquaintance-- an acquaintance whichhad latterly brought them much together, and given her a sort ofintimacy with his ways-- seen anything that betrayed him to beunprincipled or unjust--anything that spoke him of irreligious orimmoral habits; that among his own connections he wasesteemed and valued-- that even Wickham had allowed himmerit as a brother, and that she had often heard him speak soaffectionately of his sister as to prove him capable of someamiable feeling; that had his actions been what Mr. Wickhamrepresented them, so gross a violation of everything right couldhardly have been concealed from the world; and that friendshipbetween a person capable of it, and such an amiable man asBingley, was incomprehensible.She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy norWickham could she think without feeling she had been blind,partial, prejudiced, absurd."How despicably I have acted!" she cried; "I, who have pridedmyself on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on myabilities! who have often disdained the generous candour of mysister, and gratified my vanity in useless or blameable mistrust!How humiliating is this discovery! yet, how just a humiliation!Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind!But vanity, not love, has been my folly. Pleased with thepreference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, onthe very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courtedprepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, whereeither were concerned. Till this moment I never knew myself.">From herself to Jane-- from Jane to Bingley, her thoughts werein a line which soon brought to her recollection that Mr. Darcy'sexplanation there had appeared very insufficient, and she readit again. Widely different was the effect of a second perusal.How could she deny that credit to his assertions in one instance,which she had been obliged to give in the other? He declaredhimself to be totally unsuspicious of her sister's attachment; andshe could not help remembering what Charlotte's opinion hadalways been. Neither could she deny the justice of hisdescription of Jane. She felt that Jane's feelings, though fervent,were little displayed, and that there was a constant complacencyin her air and manner not often united with great sensibility.When she came to that part of the letter in which her family werementioned in terms of such mortifying, yet merited reproach, hersense of shame was severe. The justice of the charge struck hertoo forcibly for denial, and the circumstances to which heparticularly alluded as having passed at the Netherfield ball, andas confirming all his first disapprobation, could not have made astronger impression on his mind than on hers.The compliment to herself and her sister was not unfelt. Itsoothed, but it could not console her for the contempt which hadthus been self-attracted by the rest of her family; and as sheconsidered that Jane's disappointment had in fact been the workof her nearest relations, and reflected how materially the creditof both must be hurt by such impropriety of conduct, she feltdepressed beyond anything she had ever known before.After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way toevery variety of thought--re-considering events, determiningprobabilities, and reconciling herself, as well as she could, to achange so sudden and so important, fatigue, and a recollectionof her long absence, made her at length return home; and sheentered the house with the wish of appearing cheerful as usual,and the resolution of repressing such reflections as must makeher unfit for conversation.She was immediately told that the two gentlemen from Rosingshad each called during her absence; Mr. Darcy, only for a fewminutes, to take leave-- but that Colonel Fitzwilliam had beensitting with them at least an hour, hoping for her return, andalmost resolving to walk after her till she could be found.Elizabeth could but just affect concern in missing him; shereally rejoiced at it. Colonel Fitzwilliam was no longer anobject; she could think only of her letter.