Chapter 15
Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, and the
deficiency of nature had been but little assisted by education or
society; the greatest part of his life having been spent under the
guidance of an illiterate and miserly father; and though he
belonged to one of the universities, he had merely kept the
necessary terms without forming at it any useful
acquaintance.ab The
subjection in which his father had brought him up had given him
originally great humility of manner; but it was now a good deal
counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, living in
retirement, and the consequential feelings of early and unexpected
prosperity. A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady
Catherine de Bourgh when the living of Hunsford was vacant; and the
respect which he felt for her high rank, and his veneration for her
as his patroness, mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of
his authority as a clergyman, and his right as a rector, made him
altogether a mixture of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance
and humility.
Having now a good house and very sufficient income,
he intended to marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the
Longbourn family he had a wife in view, as he meant to choose one
of the daughters, if he found them as handsome and amiable as they
were represented by common report. This was his plan of amends—of
atonement—for inheriting their father’s estate; and he thought it
an excellent one, full of eligibility and suitableness, and
excessively generous and disinterested on his own part.
His plan did not vary on seeing them. Miss Bennet’s
lovely face confirmed his views, and established all his strictest
notions of what was due to seniority; and for the first evening
she was his settled choice. The next morning, however, made
an alteration; for in a quarter of an hour’s tête-à-tête
with Mrs. Bennet before breakfast, a conversation beginning with
his parsonage-house, and leading naturally to the avowal of his
hopes, that a mistress for it might be found at Longbourn, produced
from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general encouragement, a
caution against the very Jane he had fixed on. “As to her
younger daughters, she could not take upon her to say—she
could not positively answer—but she did not know of any
prepossession;—her eldest daughter she must just mention—she
felt it incumbent on her to hint, was likely to be very soon
engaged.”
Mr. Collins had only to change from Jane to
Elizabeth—and it was soon done—done while Mrs. Bennet was stirring
the fire. Elizabeth, equally next to Jane in birth and beauty,
succeeded her of course.
Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted that
she might soon have two daughters married; and the man whom she
could not bear to speak of the day before was now high in her good
graces.
Lydia’s intention of walking to Meryton was not
forgotten: every sister except Mary agreed to go with her; and Mr.
Collins was to attend them, at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was
most anxious to get rid of him, and have his library to himself;
for thither Mr. Collins had followed him after breakfast, and there
he would continue, nominally engaged with one of the largest folios
in the collection, but really talking to Mr. Bennet, with little
cessation, of his house and garden at Hunsford. Such doings
discomposed Mr. Bennet exceedingly. In his library he had been
always sure of leisure and tranquillity; and though prepared, as he
told Elizabeth, to meet with folly and conceit in every other room
in the house, he was used to be free from them there: his civility,
therefore, was most prompt in inviting Mr. Collins to join his
daughters in their walk; and Mr. Collins, being in fact much better
fitted for a walker than a reader, was extremely well pleased to
close his large book, and go.
In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents
on that of his cousins, their time passed till they entered
Meryton. The attention of the younger ones was then no longer to be
gained by him. Their eyes were immediately wandering up in
the street in quest of the officers, and nothing less than a very
smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin in a shop window, could
recall them.
But the attention of every lady was soon caught by
a young man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike
appearance, walking with an officer on the other side of the way.
The officer was the very Mr. Denny, concerning whose return from
London Lydia came to enquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were
struck with the stranger’s air, all wondered who he could be; and
Kitty and Lydia, determined if possible to find out, led the way
across the street, under pretence of wanting something in an
opposite shop, and fortunately had just gained the pavement, when
the two gentlemen, turning back, had reached the same spot. Mr.
Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to
introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the
day before from town, and, he was happy to say, had accepted a
commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for
the young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely
charming. His appearance was greatly in his favour: he had all the
best parts of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very
pleasing address. The introduction was followed up on his side by a
happy readiness of conversation—a readiness at the same time
perfectly correct and unassuming; and the whole party were still
standing and talking together very agreeably, when the sound of
horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding
down the street. On distinguishing the ladies of the group, the two
gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual
civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet
the principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn
on purpose to enquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with a
bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on
Elizabeth, when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the
stranger; and Elizabeth happening to see the countenance of both as
they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of
the meeting. Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red.
Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat—a salutation
which Mr. Darcy just deigned to return. What could be the meaning
of it? It was impossible to imagine; it was impossible not to long
to know.
In another minute Mr. Bingley, but without seeming
to have noticed what passed, took leave and rode on with his
friend.
Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young
ladies to the door of Mr. Philips’s house, and then made their
bows, in spite of Miss Lydia’s pressing entreaties that they would
come in, and even in spite of Mrs. Philips’s throwing up the
parlour window, and loudly seconding the invitation.
Mrs. Philips was always glad to see her nieces; and
the two eldest, from their recent absence, were particularly
welcome; and she was eagerly expressing her surprise at their
sudden return home, which, as their own carriage had not fetched
them, she should have known nothing about, if she had not happened
to see Mr. Jones’s shop-boy in the street, who had told her that
they were not to send any more draughts to Netherfield because the
Miss Bennets were come away, when her civility was claimed towards
Mr. Collins by Jane’s introduction of him. She received him with
her very best politeness, which he returned with as much more,
apologising for his intrusion, without any previous acquaintance
with her, which he could not help flattering himself however might
be justified by his relationship to the young ladies who introduced
him to her notice. Mrs. Philips was quite awed by such an excess of
good breeding; but her contemplation of one stranger was soon put
an end to by exclamations and enquiries about the other, of whom,
however, she could only tell her nieces what they already knew,
that Mr. Denny had brought him from London, and that he was to have
a lieutenant’s commission in the———shire. She had been watching him
the last hour, she said, as he walked up and down the street, and
had Mr. Wickham appeared, Kitty and Lydia would certainly have
continued the occupation; but unluckily no one passed the windows
now except a few of the officers, who, in comparison with the
stranger, were become “stupid, disagreeable fellows.” Some of them
were to dine with the Philipses the next day, and their aunt
promised to make her husband call on Mr. Wickham, and give him an
invitation also, if the family from Longbourn would come in the
evening. This was agreed to; and Mrs. Philips protested that they
would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery tickets,ac and a
little bit of hot supper afterwards. The prospect of such delights
was very cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits. Mr.
Collins repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was
assured, with unwearying civility, that they were perfectly
needless.
As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what
she had seen pass between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would
have defended either or both, had they appeared to be wrong, she
could no more explain such behaviour than her sister.
Mr. Collins on his return highly gratified Mrs.
Bennet by admiring Mrs. Philips’s manners and politeness. He
protested that, except Lady Catherine and her daughter, he had
never seen a more elegant woman; for she had not only received him
with the utmost civility, but had even pointedly included him in
her invitation for the next evening, although utterly unknown to
her before. Something he supposed might be attributed to his
connection with them, but yet he had never met with so much
attention in the whole course of his life.