Mr. Collins was not left long to the silent contemplation of his
successful love; for Mrs. Bennet, having dawdled about in the vestibule
to watch for the end of the conference, no sooner saw Elizabeth open the
door and with quick step pass her towards the staircase, than she
entered the breakfast-room, and congratulated both him and herself in
warm terms on the happy prospect or their nearer connection. Mr. Collins
received and returned these felicitations with equal pleasure, and then
proceeded to relate the particulars of their interview, with the result
of which he trusted he had every reason to be satisfied, since the
refusal which his cousin had steadfastly given him would naturally flow
from her bashful modesty and the genuine delicacy of her character.
This
information, however, startled Mrs. Bennet; she would have been glad to
be equally satisfied that her daughter had meant to encourage him by
protesting against his proposals, but she dared not believe it, and
could not help saying so.
"But, depend upon it, Mr. Collins," she
added, "that Lizzy shall be brought to reason. I will speak to her about
it directly. She is a very headstrong, foolish girl, and does not know
her own interest but I will _make_ her know it."
"Pardon me for
interrupting you, madam," cried Mr. Collins; "but if she is really
headstrong and foolish, I know not whether she would altogether be a
very desirable wife to a man in my situation, who naturally looks for
happiness in the marriage state. If therefore she actually persists in
rejecting my suit, perhaps it were better not to force her into
accepting me, because if liable to such defects of temper, she could not
contribute much to my felicity."
"Sir, you quite misunderstand
me," said Mrs. Bennet, alarmed. "Lizzy is only headstrong in such
matters as these. In everything else she is as good-natured a girl as
ever lived. I will go directly to Mr. Bennet, and we shall very soon
settle it with her, I am sure."
She would not give him time to
reply, but hurrying instantly to her husband, called out as she entered
the library, "Oh! Mr. Bennet, you are wanted immediately; we are all in
an uproar. You must come and make Lizzy marry Mr. Collins, for she vows
she will not have him, and if you do not make haste he will change his
mind and not have _her_."
Mr. Bennet raised his eyes from his book
as she entered, and fixed them on her face with a calm unconcern which
was not in the least altered by her communication.
"I have not the pleasure of understanding you," said he, when she had finished her speech. "Of what are you talking?"
"Of
Mr. Collins and Lizzy. Lizzy declares she will not have Mr. Collins,
and Mr. Collins begins to say that he will not have Lizzy."
"And what am I to do on the occasion? It seems an hopeless business."
"Speak to Lizzy about it yourself. Tell her that you insist upon her marrying him."
"Let her be called down. She shall hear my opinion."
Mrs. Bennet rang the bell, and Miss Elizabeth was summoned to the library.
"Come
here, child," cried her father as she appeared. "I have sent for you on
an affair of importance. I understand that Mr. Collins has made you an
offer of marriage. Is it true?" Elizabeth replied that it was. "Very
well--and this offer of marriage you have refused?"
"I have, sir."
"Very well. We now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your accepting it. Is it not so, Mrs. Bennet?"
"Yes, or I will never see her again."
"An
unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be
a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again
if you do _not_ marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if
you _do_."
Elizabeth could not but smile at such a conclusion of
such a beginning, but Mrs. Bennet, who had persuaded herself that her
husband regarded the affair as she wished, was excessively disappointed.
"What do you mean, Mr. Bennet, in talking this way? You promised me to _insist_ upon her marrying him."
"My
dear," replied her husband, "I have two small favours to request.
First, that you will allow me the free use of my understanding on the
present occasion; and secondly, of my room. I shall be glad to have the
library to myself as soon as may be."
Not yet, however, in spite
of her disappointment in her husband, did Mrs. Bennet give up the point.
She talked to Elizabeth again and again; coaxed and threatened her by
turns. She endeavoured to secure Jane in her interest; but Jane, with
all possible mildness, declined interfering; and Elizabeth, sometimes
with real earnestness, and sometimes with playful gaiety, replied to her
attacks. Though her manner varied, however, her determination never
did.
Mr. Collins, meanwhile, was meditating in solitude on what
had passed. He thought too well of himself to comprehend on what motives
his cousin could refuse him; and though his pride was hurt, he suffered
in no other way. His regard for her was quite imaginary; and the
possibility of her deserving her mother's reproach prevented his feeling
any regret.
While the family were in this confusion, Charlotte
Lucas came to spend the day with them. She was met in the vestibule by
Lydia, who, flying to her, cried in a half whisper, "I am glad you are
come, for there is such fun here! What do you think has happened this
morning? Mr. Collins has made an offer to Lizzy, and she will not have
him."
Charlotte hardly had time to answer, before they were joined
by Kitty, who came to tell the same news; and no sooner had they
entered the breakfast-room, where Mrs. Bennet was alone, than she
likewise began on the subject, calling on Miss Lucas for her compassion,
and entreating her to persuade her friend Lizzy to comply with the
wishes of all her family. "Pray do, my dear Miss Lucas," she added in a
melancholy tone, "for nobody is on my side, nobody takes part with me. I
am cruelly used, nobody feels for my poor nerves."
Charlotte's reply was spared by the entrance of Jane and Elizabeth.
"Aye,
there she comes," continued Mrs. Bennet, "looking as unconcerned as may
be, and caring no more for us than if we were at York, provided she can
have her own way. But I tell you, Miss Lizzy--if you take it into your
head to go on refusing every offer of marriage in this way, you will
never get a husband at all--and I am sure I do not know who is to
maintain you when your father is dead. I shall not be able to keep
you--and so I warn you. I have done with you from this very day. I told
you in the library, you know, that I should never speak to you again,
and you will find me as good as my word. I have no pleasure in talking
to undutiful children. Not that I have much pleasure, indeed, in talking
to anybody. People who suffer as I do from nervous complaints can have
no great inclination for talking. Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it
is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied."
Her
daughters listened in silence to this effusion, sensible that any
attempt to reason with her or soothe her would only increase the
irritation. She talked on, therefore, without interruption from any of
them, till they were joined by Mr. Collins, who entered the room with an
air more stately than usual, and on perceiving whom, she said to the
girls, "Now, I do insist upon it, that you, all of you, hold your
tongues, and let me and Mr. Collins have a little conversation
together."
Elizabeth passed quietly out of the room, Jane and
Kitty followed, but Lydia stood her ground, determined to hear all she
could; and Charlotte, detained first by the civility of Mr. Collins,
whose inquiries after herself and all her family were very minute, and
then by a little curiosity, satisfied herself with walking to the window
and pretending not to hear. In a doleful voice Mrs. Bennet began the
projected conversation: "Oh! Mr. Collins!"
"My dear madam,"
replied he, "let us be for ever silent on this point. Far be it from
me," he presently continued, in a voice that marked his displeasure, "to
resent the behaviour of your daughter. Resignation to inevitable evils
is the evil duty of us all; the peculiar duty of a young man who has
been so fortunate as I have been in early preferment; and I trust I am
resigned. Perhaps not the less so from feeling a doubt of my positive
happiness had my fair cousin honoured me with her hand; for I have often
observed that resignation is never so perfect as when the blessing
denied begins to lose somewhat of its value in our estimation. You will
not, I hope, consider me as showing any disrespect to your family, my
dear madam, by thus withdrawing my pretensions to your daughter's
favour, without having paid yourself and Mr. Bennet the compliment of
requesting you to interpose your authority in my behalf. My conduct may,
I fear, be objectionable in having accepted my dismission from your
daughter's lips instead of your own. But we are all liable to error. I
have certainly meant well through the whole affair. My object has been
to secure an amiable companion for myself, with due consideration for
the advantage of all your family, and if my _manner_ has been at all
reprehensible, I here beg leave to apologise." _