CHAPTER XI.
When they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself asmuch as possible against Mr. Darcy, chose for her employment theexamination of all the letters which Jane had written to her since herbeing in Kent. They contained no actual complaint, nor was there anyrevival of past occurrences, or any communication of present suffering.But in all, and in almost every line of each, there was a want of thatcheerfulness which had been used to characterize her style, and which,proceeding from the serenity of a mind at ease with itself, and kindlydisposed towards every one, had been scarcely ever clouded. Elizabethnoticed every sentence conveying the idea of uneasiness, with anattention which it had hardly received on the first perusal. Mr. Darcy'sshameful boast of what misery he had been able to inflict, gave her akeener sense of her sister's sufferings. It was some consolation tothink that his visit to Rosings was to end on the day after the next,and a still greater, that in less than a fortnight she should herself bewith Jane again, and enabled to contribute to the recovery of herspirits, by all that affection could do.
She could not think of Darcy's leaving Kent, without remembering thathis cousin was to go with him; but Colonel Fitzwilliam had made it clearthat he had no intentions at all, and agreeable as he was, she did notmean to be unhappy about him.
While settling this point, she was suddenly roused by the sound of thedoor bell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of itsbeing Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who had once before called late inthe evening, and might now come to enquire particularly after her. Butthis idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differentlyaffected, when, to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into theroom. In an hurried manner he immediately began an enquiry after herhealth, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better.She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, andthen getting up walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but saidnot a word. After a silence of several minutes he came towards her in anagitated manner, and thus began,
”In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not berepressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and loveyou.”
Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured,doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement,and the avowal of all that he felt and had long felt for her,immediately followed. He spoke well, but there were feelings besidesthose of the heart to be detailed, and he was not more eloquent on thesubject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority--ofits being a degradation--of the family obstacles which judgment hadalways opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemeddue to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely torecommend his suit.
In spite of her deeply-rooted dislike, she could not be insensible tothe compliment of such a man's affection, and though her intentions didnot vary for an instant, she was at first sorry for the pain he was toreceive; till, roused to resentment by his subsequent language, she lostall compassion in anger. She tried, however, to compose herself toanswer him with patience, when he should have done. He concluded withrepresenting to her the strength of that attachment which, in spite ofall his endeavours, he had found impossible to conquer; and withexpressing his hope that it would now be rewarded by her acceptance ofhis hand. As he said this, she could easily see that he had no doubt ofa favourable answer. He _spoke_ of apprehension and anxiety, but hiscountenance expressed real security. Such a circumstance could onlyexasperate farther, and when he ceased, the colour rose into hercheeks, and she said,
”In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode toexpress a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, howeverunequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should befelt, and if I could _feel_ gratitude, I would now thank you. But Icannot--I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainlybestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to anyone. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be ofshort duration. The feelings which, you tell me, have long prevented theacknowledgment of your regard, can have little difficulty in overcomingit after this explanation.”
Mr. Darcy, who was leaning against the mantle-piece with his eyes fixedon her face, seemed to catch her words with no less resentment thansurprise. His complexion became pale with anger, and the disturbance ofhis mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for theappearance of composure, and would not open his lips, till he believedhimself to have attained it. The pause was to Elizabeth's feelingsdreadful. At length, in a voice of forced calmness, he said,
”And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! Imight, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little _endeavour_ atcivility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.”
”I might as well enquire,” replied she, ”why with so evident a design ofoffending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked meagainst your will, against your reason, and even against your character?Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I _was_ uncivil? But I haveother provocations. You know I have. Had not my own feelings decidedagainst you, had they been indifferent, or had they even beenfavourable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to acceptthe man, who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, thehappiness of a most beloved sister?”
As she pronounced these words, Mr. Darcy changed colour; but the emotionwas short, and he listened without attempting to interrupt her while shecontinued.
”I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No motive canexcuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted _there_. You dare not,you cannot deny that you have been the principal, if not the only meansof dividing them from each other, of exposing one to the censure of theworld for caprice and instability, the other to its derision fordisappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutestkind.”
She paused, and saw with no slight indignation that he was listeningwith an air which proved him wholly unmoved by any feeling of remorse.He even looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity.
”Can you deny that you have done it?” she repeated.
With assumed tranquillity he then replied, ”I have no wish of denyingthat I did every thing in my power to separate my friend from yoursister, or that I rejoice in my success. Towards _him_ I have beenkinder than towards myself.”
Elizabeth disdained the appearance of noticing this civil reflection,but its meaning did not escape, nor was it likely to conciliate her.
”But it is not merely this affair,” she continued, ”on which my dislikeis founded. Long before it had taken place, my opinion of you wasdecided. Your character was unfolded in the recital which I receivedmany months ago from Mr. Wickham. On this subject, what can you have tosay? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself?or under what misrepresentation, can you here impose upon others?”
”You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns,” said Darcy ina less tranquil tone, and with a heightened colour.
”Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling aninterest in him?”
”His misfortunes!” repeated Darcy contemptuously; ”yes, his misfortuneshave been great indeed.”
”And of your infliction,” cried Elizabeth with energy. ”You have reducedhim to his present state of poverty, comparative poverty. You havewithheld the advantages, which you must know to have been designed forhim. You have deprived the best years of his life, of that independencewhich was no less his due than his desert. You have done all this! andyet you can treat the mention of his misfortunes with contempt andridicule.”
”And this,” cried Darcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room,”is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! Ithank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to thiscalculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps,” added he, stopping in hiswalk, and turning towards her, ”these offences might have beenoverlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of thescruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. Thesebitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I with greater policyconcealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my beingimpelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination; by reason, byreflection, by every thing. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence.Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just.Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections?To congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in lifeis so decidedly beneath my own?”
Elizabeth felt herself growing more angry every moment; yet she tried tothe utmost to speak with composure when she said,
”You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of yourdeclaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me theconcern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in amore gentleman-like manner.”
She saw him start at this, but he said nothing, and she continued,
”You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible waythat would have tempted me to accept it.”
Again his astonishment was obvious; and he looked at her with anexpression of mingled incredulity and mortification. She went on.
”From the very beginning, from the first moment I may almost say, of myacquaintance with you, your manners impressing me with the fullestbelief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of thefeelings of others, were such as to form that ground-work ofdisapprobation, on which succeeding events have built so immoveable adislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were thelast man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”
”You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend yourfeelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been.Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my bestwishes for your health and happiness.”
And with these words he hastily left the room, and Elizabeth heard himthe next moment open the front door and quit the house.
The tumult of her mind was now painfully great. She knew not how tosupport herself, and from actual weakness sat down and cried for half anhour. Her astonishment, as she reflected on what had passed, wasincreased by every review of it. That she should receive an offer ofmarriage from Mr. Darcy! that he should have been in love with her forso many months! so much in love as to wish to marry her in spite of allthe objections which had made him prevent his friend's marrying hersister, and which must appear at least with equal force in his own case,was almost incredible! it was gratifying to have inspired unconsciouslyso strong an affection. But his pride, his abominable pride, hisshameless avowal of what he had done with respect to Jane, hisunpardonable assurance in acknowledging, though he could not justify it,and the unfeeling manner in which he had mentioned Mr. Wickham, hiscruelty towards whom he had not attempted to deny, soon overcame thepity which the consideration of his attachment had for a moment excited.
She continued in very agitating reflections till the sound of LadyCatherine's carriage made her feel how unequal she was to encounterCharlotte's observation, and hurried her away to her room.