["[Event happened on 2024-01-01 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Their sister's wedding day arrived; and Jane and Elizabeth felt for her\nprobably more than she felt for herself. The carriage was sent to meet\nthem at ----, and they were to return in it, by dinner-time. Their\narrival was dreaded by the elder Miss Bennets; and Jane more especially,\nwho gave Lydia the feelings which would have attended herself, had _she_\nbeen the culprit, was wretched in the thought of what her sister must\nendure. They came. The family were assembled in the breakfast room, to receive\nthem. Smiles decked the face of Mrs. Bennet, as the carriage drove up to\nthe door; her husband looked impenetrably grave; her daughters, alarmed,\nanxious, uneasy. Lydia's voice was heard in the vestibule; the door was thrown open, and\nshe ran into the room. Her mother stepped forwards, embraced her, and\nwelcomed her with rapture; gave her hand with an affectionate smile to\nWickham, who followed his lady, and wished them both joy, with an\nalacrity which shewed no doubt of their happiness. Their reception from Mr. Bennet, to whom they then turned, was not quite\nso cordial. His countenance rather gained in austerity; and he scarcely\nopened his lips. The easy assurance of the young couple, indeed, was\nenough to provoke him. Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Miss Bennet was\nshocked. Lydia was Lydia still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, and\nfearless. She turned from sister to sister, demanding their\ncongratulations, and when at length they all sat down, looked eagerly\nround the room, took notice of some little alteration in it, and\nobserved, with a laugh, that it was a great while since she had been\nthere. Wickham was not at all more distressed than herself, but his manners\nwere always so pleasing, that had his character and his marriage been\nexactly what they ought, his smiles and his easy address, while he\nclaimed their relationship, would have delighted them all. Elizabeth had\nnot before believed him quite equal to such assurance; but she sat down,\nresolving within herself, to draw no limits in future to the impudence\nof an impudent man. _She_ blushed, and Jane blushed; but the cheeks of\nthe two who caused their confusion, suffered no variation of colour. There was no want of discourse. The bride and her mother could neither\nof them talk fast enough; and Wickham, who happened to sit near\nElizabeth, began enquiring after his acquaintance in that neighbourhood,\nwith a good humoured ease, which she felt very unable to equal in her\nreplies. They seemed each of them to have the happiest memories in the\nworld. Nothing of the past was recollected with pain; and Lydia led\nvoluntarily to subjects, which her sisters would not have alluded to for\nthe world. \"Only think of its being three months,\" she cried, \"since I went away;\nit seems but a fortnight I declare; and yet there have been things\nenough happened in the time. Good gracious! when I went away, I am sure\nI had no more idea of being married till I came back again! though I\nthought it would be very good fun if I was.\" Her father lifted up his eyes. Jane was distressed. Elizabeth looked\nexpressively at Lydia; but she, who never heard nor saw any thing of\nwhich she chose to be insensible, gaily continued, \"Oh! mamma, do the\npeople here abouts know I am married to-day? I was afraid they might\nnot; and we overtook William Goulding in his curricle, so I was\ndetermined he should know it, and so I let down the side glass next to\nhim, and took off my glove, and let my hand just rest upon the window\nframe, so that he might see the ring, and then I bowed and smiled like\nany thing.\" Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She got up, and ran out of the room;\nand returned no more, till she heard them passing through the hall to\nthe dining-parlour. She then joined them soon enough to see Lydia, with\nanxious parade, walk up to her mother's right hand, and hear her say to\nher eldest sister, \"Ah! Jane, I take your place now, and you must go\nlower, because I am a married woman.\" It was not to be supposed that time would give Lydia that embarrassment,\nfrom which she had been so wholly free at first. Her ease and good\nspirits increased. She longed to see Mrs. Philips, the Lucases, and all\ntheir other neighbours, and to hear herself called \"Mrs. Wickham,\" by\neach of them; and in the mean time, she went after dinner to shew her\nring and boast of being married, to Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids. \"Well, mamma,\" said she, when they were all returned to the breakfast\nroom, \"and what do you think of my husband? Is not he a charming man? I\nam sure my sisters must all envy me. I only hope they may have half my\ngood luck. They must all go to Brighton. That is the place to get\nhusbands. What a pity it is, mamma, we did not all go.\" \"Very true; and if I had my will, we should. But my dear Lydia, I don't\nat all like your going such a way off. Must it be so?\" \"Oh, lord! yes;--there is nothing in that. I shall like it of all\nthings. You and papa, and my sisters, must come down and see us. We\nshall be at Newcastle all the winter, and I dare say there will be some\nballs, and I will take care to get good partners for them all.\" \"I should like it beyond any thing!\" said her mother. \"And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sisters\nbehind you; and I dare say I shall get husbands for them before the\nwinter is over.\" \"I thank you for my share of the favour,\" said Elizabeth; \"but I do not\nparticularly like your way of getting husbands.\" Their visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Mr. Wickham\nhad received his commission before he left London, and he was to join\nhis regiment at the end of a fortnight. No one but Mrs. Bennet, regretted that their stay would be so short; and\nshe made the most of the time, by visiting about with her daughter, and\nhaving very frequent parties at home. These parties were acceptable to\nall; to avoid a family circle was even more desirable to such as did\nthink, than such as did not. Wickham's affection for Lydia, was just what Elizabeth had expected to\nfind it; not equal to Lydia's for him. She had scarcely needed her\npresent observation to be satisfied, from the reason of things, that\ntheir elopement had been brought on by the strength of her love, rather\nthan by his; and she would have wondered why, without violently caring\nfor her, he chose to elope with her at all, had she not felt certain\nthat his flight was rendered necessary by distress of circumstances; and\nif that were the case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunity\nof having a companion. Lydia was exceedingly fond of him. He was her dear Wickham on every\noccasion; no one was to be put in competition with him. He did every\nthing best in the world; and she was sure he would kill more birds on\nthe first of September, than any body else in the country. One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her two\nelder sisters, she said to Elizabeth,\n\n\"Lizzy, I never gave _you_ an account of my wedding, I believe. You were\nnot by, when I told mamma, and the others, all about it. Are not you\ncurious to hear how it was managed?\" \"No really,\" replied Elizabeth; \"I think there cannot be too little said\non the subject.\" \"La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off. We were\nmarried, you know, at St. Clement's, because Wickham's lodgings were in\nthat parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleven\no'clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together; and the others\nwere to meet us at the church. Well, Monday morning came, and I was in\nsuch a fuss! I was so afraid you know that something would happen to put\nit off, and then I should have gone quite distracted. And there was my\naunt, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as if\nshe was reading a sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in ten,\nfor I was thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. I longed to\nknow whether he would be married in his blue coat.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-01, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-04 The user is reading a book]\n<User> \"Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual; I thought it would never\nbe over; for, by the bye, you are to understand, that my uncle and aunt\nwere horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you'll believe\nme, I did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there a\nfortnight. Not one party, or scheme, or any thing. To be sure London was\nrather thin, but however the little Theatre was open. Well, and so just\nas the carriage came to the door, my uncle was called away upon business\nto that horrid man Mr. Stone. And then, you know, when once they get\ntogether, there is no end of it. Well, I was so frightened I did not\nknow what to do, for my uncle was to give me away; and if we were beyond\nthe hour, we could not be married all day. But, luckily, he came back\nagain in ten minutes time, and then we all set out. However, I\nrecollected afterwards, that if he _had_ been prevented going, the\nwedding need not be put off, for Mr. Darcy might have done as well.\" \"Mr. Darcy!\" repeated Elizabeth, in utter amazement. \"Oh, yes!--he was to come there with Wickham, you know. But gracious me! I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I promised\nthem so faithfully! What will Wickham say? It was to be such a secret!\" \"If it was to be secret,\" said Jane, \"say not another word on the\nsubject. You may depend upon my seeking no further.\" \"Oh! certainly,\" said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity; \"we will\nask you no questions.\" \"Thank you,\" said Lydia, \"for if you did, I should certainly tell you\nall, and then Wickham would be angry.\" On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was forced to put it out of her\npower, by running away. But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or at least it\nwas impossible not to try for information. Mr. Darcy had been at her\nsister's wedding. It was exactly a scene, and exactly among people,\nwhere he had apparently least to do, and least temptation to go. Conjectures as to the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried into her\nbrain; but she was satisfied with none. Those that best pleased her, as\nplacing his conduct in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. She\ncould not bear such suspense; and hastily seizing a sheet of paper,\nwrote a short letter to her aunt, to request an explanation of what\nLydia had dropt, if it were compatible with the secrecy which had been\nintended. \"You may readily comprehend,\" she added, \"what my curiosity must be to\nknow how a person unconnected with any of us, and (comparatively\nspeaking) a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at such\na time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it--unless it is,\nfor very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Lydia seems to\nthink necessary; and then I must endeavour to be satisfied with\nignorance.\" \"Not that I _shall_ though,\" she added to herself, as she finished the\nletter; \"and my dear aunt, if you do not tell me in an honourable\nmanner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find it\nout.\" Jane's delicate sense of honour would not allow her to speak to\nElizabeth privately of what Lydia had let fall; Elizabeth was glad of\nit;--till it appeared whether her inquiries would receive any\nsatisfaction, she had rather be without a confidante. Elizabeth had the satisfaction of receiving an answer to her letter, as\nsoon as she possibly could. She was no sooner in possession of it, than\nhurrying into the little copse, where she was least likely to be\ninterrupted, she sat down on one of the benches, and prepared to be\nhappy; for the length of the letter convinced her that it did not\ncontain a denial. \"Gracechurch-street, Sept. 6. \"MY DEAR NIECE,\n\n     \"I have just received your letter, and shall devote this whole\n     morning to answering it, as I foresee that a _little_ writing will\n     not comprise what I have to tell you. I must confess myself\n     surprised by your application; I did not expect it from _you_. Don't think me angry, however, for I only mean to let you know,\n     that I had not imagined such enquiries to be necessary on _your_\n     side. If you do not choose to understand me, forgive my\n     impertinence. Your uncle is as much surprised as I am--and nothing\n     but the belief of your being a party concerned, would have allowed\n     him to act as he has done. But if you are really innocent and\n     ignorant, I must be more explicit. On the very day of my coming\n     home from Longbourn, your uncle had a most unexpected visitor. Mr.\n     Darcy called, and was shut up with him several hours. It was all\n     over before I arrived; so my curiosity was not so dreadfully racked\n     as _your's_ seems to have been. He came to tell Mr. Gardiner that\n     he had found out where your sister and Mr. Wickham were, and that\n     he had seen and talked with them both, Wickham repeatedly, Lydia\n     once. From what I can collect, he left Derbyshire only one day\n     after ourselves, and came to town with the resolution of hunting\n     for them. The motive professed, was his conviction of its being\n     owing to himself that Wickham's worthlessness had not been so well\n     known, as to make it impossible for any young woman of character,\n     to love or confide in him. He generously imputed the whole to his\n     mistaken pride, and confessed that he had before thought it beneath\n     him, to lay his private actions open to the world. His character\n     was to speak for itself. He called it, therefore, his duty to step\n     forward, and endeavour to remedy an evil, which had been brought on\n     by himself. If he _had another_ motive, I am sure it would never\n     disgrace him. He had been some days in town, before he was able to\n     discover them; but he had something to direct his search, which was\n     more than _we_ had; and the consciousness of this, was another\n     reason for his resolving to follow us. There is a lady, it seems, a\n     Mrs. Younge, who was some time ago governess to Miss Darcy, and was\n     dismissed from her charge on some cause of disapprobation, though\n     he did not say what. She then took a large house in Edward-street,\n     and has since maintained herself by letting lodgings. This Mrs.\n     Younge was, he knew, intimately acquainted with Wickham; and he\n     went to her for intelligence of him, as soon as he got to town. But\n     it was two or three days before he could get from her what he\n     wanted. She would not betray her trust, I suppose, without bribery\n     and corruption, for she really did know where her friend was to be\n     found. Wickham indeed had gone to her, on their first arrival in\n     London, and had she been able to receive them into her house, they\n     would have taken up their abode with her. At length, however, our\n     kind friend procured the wished-for direction. They were in ----\n     street. He saw Wickham, and afterwards insisted on seeing Lydia. His first object with her, he acknowledged, had been to persuade\n     her to quit her present disgraceful situation, and return to her\n     friends as soon as they could be prevailed on to receive her,\n     offering his assistance, as far as it would go. But he found Lydia\n     absolutely resolved on remaining where she was. She cared for none\n     of her friends, she wanted no help of his, she would not hear of\n     leaving Wickham. She was sure they should be married some time or\n     other, and it did not much signify when. Since such were her\n     feelings, it only remained, he thought, to secure and expedite a\n     marriage, which, in his very first conversation with Wickham, he\n     easily learnt, had never been _his_ design. He confessed himself\n     obliged to leave the regiment, on account of some debts of honour,\n     which were very pressing; and scrupled not to lay all the\n     ill-consequences of Lydia's flight, on her own folly alone. He\n     meant to resign his commission immediately; and as to his future\n     situation, he could conjecture very little about it. He must go\n     somewhere, but he did not know where, and he knew he should have\n     nothing to live on. Mr. Darcy asked him why he had not married your\n     sister at once.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-04, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-05 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Though Mr. Bennet was not imagined to be very rich,\n     he would have been able to do something for him, and his situation\n     must have been benefited by marriage. But he found, in reply to\n     this question, that Wickham still cherished the hope of more\n     effectually making his fortune by marriage, in some other country. Under such circumstances, however, he was not likely to be proof\n     against the temptation of immediate relief. They met several times,\n     for there was much to be discussed. Wickham of course wanted more\n     than he could get; but at length was reduced to be reasonable. Every thing being settled between _them_, Mr. Darcy's next step was\n     to make your uncle acquainted with it, and he first called in\n     Gracechurch-street the evening before I came home. But Mr. Gardiner\n     could not be seen, and Mr. Darcy found, on further enquiry, that\n     your father was still with him, but would quit town the next\n     morning. He did not judge your father to be a person whom he could\n     so properly consult as your uncle, and therefore readily postponed\n     seeing him, till after the departure of the former. He did not\n     leave his name, and till the next day, it was only known that a\n     gentleman had called on business. On Saturday he came again. Your\n     father was gone, your uncle at home, and, as I said before, they\n     had a great deal of talk together. They met again on Sunday, and\n     then _I_ saw him too. It was not all settled before Monday: as soon\n     as it was, the express was sent off to Longbourn. But our visitor\n     was very obstinate. I fancy, Lizzy, that obstinacy is the real\n     defect of his character after all. He has been accused of many\n     faults at different times; but _this_ is the true one. Nothing was\n     to be done that he did not do himself; though I am sure (and I do\n     not speak it to be thanked, therefore say nothing about it,) your\n     uncle would most readily have settled the whole. They battled it\n     together for a long time, which was more than either the gentleman\n     or lady concerned in it deserved. But at last your uncle was forced\n     to yield, and instead of being allowed to be of use to his niece,\n     was forced to put up with only having the probable credit of it,\n     which went sorely against the grain; and I really believe your\n     letter this morning gave him great pleasure, because it required an\n     explanation that would rob him of his borrowed feathers, and give\n     the praise where it was due. But, Lizzy, this must go no farther\n     than yourself, or Jane at most. You know pretty well, I suppose,\n     what has been done for the young people. His debts are to be paid,\n     amounting, I believe, to considerably more than a thousand pounds,\n     another thousand in addition to her own settled upon _her_, and his\n     commission purchased. The reason why all this was to be done by him\n     alone, was such as I have given above. It was owing to him, to his\n     reserve, and want of proper consideration, that Wickham's character\n     had been so misunderstood, and consequently that he had been\n     received and noticed as he was. Perhaps there was some truth in\n     _this_; though I doubt whether _his_ reserve, or _anybody's_\n     reserve, can be answerable for the event. But in spite of all this\n     fine talking, my dear Lizzy, you may rest perfectly assured, that\n     your uncle would never have yielded, if we had not given him credit\n     for _another interest_ in the affair. When all this was resolved\n     on, he returned again to his friends, who were still staying at\n     Pemberley; but it was agreed that he should be in London once more\n     when the wedding took place, and all money matters were then to\n     receive the last finish. I believe I have now told you every thing. It is a relation which you tell me is to give you great surprise; I\n     hope at least it will not afford you any displeasure. Lydia came to\n     us; and Wickham had constant admission to the house. _He_ was\n     exactly what he had been, when I knew him in Hertfordshire; but I\n     would not tell you how little I was satisfied with _her_ behaviour\n     while she staid with us, if I had not perceived, by Jane's letter\n     last Wednesday, that her conduct on coming home was exactly of a\n     piece with it, and therefore what I now tell you, can give you no\n     fresh pain. I talked to her repeatedly in the most serious manner,\n     representing to her all the wickedness of what she had done, and\n     all the unhappiness she had brought on her family. If she heard me,\n     it was by good luck, for I am sure she did not listen. I was\n     sometimes quite provoked, but then I recollected my dear Elizabeth\n     and Jane, and for their sakes had patience with her. Mr. Darcy was\n     punctual in his return, and as Lydia informed you, attended the\n     wedding. He dined with us the next day, and was to leave town again\n     on Wednesday or Thursday. Will you be very angry with me, my dear\n     Lizzy, if I take this opportunity of saying (what I was never bold\n     enough to say before) how much I like him. His behaviour to us has,\n     in every respect, been as pleasing as when we were in Derbyshire. His understanding and opinions all please me; he wants nothing but\n     a little more liveliness, and _that_, if he marry _prudently_, his\n     wife may teach him. I thought him very sly;--he hardly ever\n     mentioned your name. But slyness seems the fashion. Pray forgive\n     me, if I have been very presuming, or at least do not punish me so\n     far, as to exclude me from P. I shall never be quite happy till I\n     have been all round the park. A low phaeton, with a nice little\n     pair of ponies, would be the very thing. But I must write no more. The children have been wanting me this half hour. Your's, very\n     sincerely,\n\n     \"M. GARDINER.\" The contents of this letter threw Elizabeth into a flutter of spirits,\nin which it was difficult to determine whether pleasure or pain bore the\ngreatest share. The vague and unsettled suspicions which uncertainty had\nproduced of what Mr. Darcy might have been doing to forward her sister's\nmatch, which she had feared to encourage, as an exertion of goodness too\ngreat to be probable, and at the same time dreaded to be just, from the\npain of obligation, were proved beyond their greatest extent to be true! He had followed them purposely to town, he had taken on himself all the\ntrouble and mortification attendant on such a research; in which\nsupplication had been necessary to a woman whom he must abominate and\ndespise, and where he was reduced to meet, frequently meet, reason with,\npersuade, and finally bribe, the man whom he always most wished to\navoid, and whose very name it was punishment to him to pronounce. He had\ndone all this for a girl whom he could neither regard nor esteem. Her\nheart did whisper, that he had done it for her. But it was a hope\nshortly checked by other considerations, and she soon felt that even her\nvanity was insufficient, when required to depend on his affection for\nher, for a woman who had already refused him, as able to overcome a\nsentiment so natural as abhorrence against relationship with Wickham. Brother-in-law of Wickham! Every kind of pride must revolt from the\nconnection. He had to be sure done much. She was ashamed to think how\nmuch. But he had given a reason for his interference, which asked no\nextraordinary stretch of belief. It was reasonable that he should feel\nhe had been wrong; he had liberality, and he had the means of exercising\nit; and though she would not place herself as his principal inducement,\nshe could, perhaps, believe, that remaining partiality for her, might\nassist his endeavours in a cause where her peace of mind must be\nmaterially concerned. It was painful, exceedingly painful, to know that\nthey were under obligations to a person who could never receive a\nreturn. They owed the restoration of Lydia, her character, every thing\nto him. Oh! how heartily did she grieve over every ungracious sensation\nshe had ever encouraged, every saucy speech she had ever directed\ntowards him. For herself she was humbled; but she was proud of him. Proud that in a cause of compassion and honour, he had been able to get\nthe better of himself. She read over her aunt's commendation of him\nagain and again. It was hardly enough; but it pleased her.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-05, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-08 The user is reading a book]\n<User> She was even\nsensible of some pleasure, though mixed with regret, on finding how\nsteadfastly both she and her uncle had been persuaded that affection and\nconfidence subsisted between Mr. Darcy and herself. She was roused from her seat, and her reflections, by some one's\napproach; and before she could strike into another path, she was\novertaken by Wickham. \"I am afraid I interrupt your solitary ramble, my dear sister?\" said he,\nas he joined her. \"You certainly do,\" she replied with a smile; \"but it does not follow\nthat the interruption must be unwelcome.\" \"I should be sorry indeed, if it were. _We_ were always good friends;\nand now we are better.\" \"True. Are the others coming out?\" \"I do not know. Mrs. Bennet and Lydia are going in the carriage to\nMeryton. And so, my dear sister, I find from our uncle and aunt, that\nyou have actually seen Pemberley.\" She replied in the affirmative. \"I almost envy you the pleasure, and yet I believe it would be too much\nfor me, or else I could take it in my way to Newcastle. And you saw the\nold housekeeper, I suppose? Poor Reynolds, she was always very fond of\nme. But of course she did not mention my name to you.\" \"Yes, she did.\" \"And what did she say?\" \"That you were gone into the army, and she was afraid had--not turned\nout well. At such a distance as _that_, you know, things are strangely\nmisrepresented.\" \"Certainly,\" he replied, biting his lips. Elizabeth hoped she had\nsilenced him; but he soon afterwards said,\n\n\"I was surprised to see Darcy in town last month. We passed each other\nseveral times. I wonder what he can be doing there.\" \"Perhaps preparing for his marriage with Miss de Bourgh,\" said\nElizabeth. \"It must be something particular, to take him there at this\ntime of year.\" \"Undoubtedly. Did you see him while you were at Lambton? I thought I\nunderstood from the Gardiners that you had.\" \"Yes; he introduced us to his sister.\" \"And do you like her?\" \"Very much.\" \"I have heard, indeed, that she is uncommonly improved within this year\nor two. When I last saw her, she was not very promising. I am very glad\nyou liked her. I hope she will turn out well.\" \"I dare say she will; she has got over the most trying age.\" \"Did you go by the village of Kympton?\" \"I do not recollect that we did.\" \"I mention it, because it is the living which I ought to have had. A\nmost delightful place!--Excellent Parsonage House! It would have suited\nme in every respect.\" \"How should you have liked making sermons?\" \"Exceedingly well. I should have considered it as part of my duty, and\nthe exertion would soon have been nothing. One ought not to\nrepine;--but, to be sure, it would have been such a thing for me! The\nquiet, the retirement of such a life, would have answered all my ideas\nof happiness! But it was not to be. Did you ever hear Darcy mention the\ncircumstance, when you were in Kent?\" \"I _have_ heard from authority, which I thought _as good_, that it was\nleft you conditionally only, and at the will of the present patron.\" \"You have. Yes, there was something in _that_; I told you so from the\nfirst, you may remember.\" \"I _did_ hear, too, that there was a time, when sermon-making was not so\npalatable to you as it seems to be at present; that you actually\ndeclared your resolution of never taking orders, and that the business\nhad been compromised accordingly.\" \"You did! and it was not wholly without foundation. You may remember\nwhat I told you on that point, when first we talked of it.\" They were now almost at the door of the house, for she had walked fast\nto get rid of him; and unwilling for her sister's sake, to provoke him,\nshe only said in reply, with a good-humoured smile,\n\n\"Come, Mr. Wickham, we are brother and sister, you know. Do not let us\nquarrel about the past. In future, I hope we shall be always of one\nmind.\" She held out her hand; he kissed it with affectionate gallantry, though\nhe hardly knew how to look, and they entered the house. Mr. Wickham was so perfectly satisfied with this conversation, that he\nnever again distressed himself, or provoked his dear sister Elizabeth,\nby introducing the subject of it; and she was pleased to find that she\nhad said enough to keep him quiet. The day of his and Lydia's departure soon came, and Mrs. Bennet was\nforced to submit to a separation, which, as her husband by no means\nentered into her scheme of their all going to Newcastle, was likely to\ncontinue at least a twelvemonth. \"Oh! my dear Lydia,\" she cried, \"when shall we meet again?\" \"Oh, lord! I don't know. Not these two or three years perhaps.\" \"Write to me very often, my dear.\" \"As often as I can. But you know married women have never much time for\nwriting. My sisters may write to _me_. They will have nothing else to\ndo.\" Mr. Wickham's adieus were much more affectionate than his wife's. He\nsmiled, looked handsome, and said many pretty things. \"He is as fine a fellow,\" said Mr. Bennet, as soon as they were out of\nthe house, \"as ever I saw. He simpers, and smirks, and makes love to us\nall. I am prodigiously proud of him. I defy even Sir William Lucas\nhimself, to produce a more valuable son-in-law.\" The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very dull for several days. \"I often think,\" said she, \"that there is nothing so bad as parting with\none's friends. One seems so forlorn without them.\" \"This is the consequence you see, Madam, of marrying a daughter,\" said\nElizabeth. \"It must make you better satisfied that your other four are\nsingle.\" \"It is no such thing. Lydia does not leave me because she is married;\nbut only because her husband's regiment happens to be so far off. If\nthat had been nearer, she would not have gone so soon.\" But the spiritless condition which this event threw her into, was\nshortly relieved, and her mind opened again to the agitation of hope, by\nan article of news, which then began to be in circulation. The\nhousekeeper at Netherfield had received orders to prepare for the\narrival of her master, who was coming down in a day or two, to shoot\nthere for several weeks. Mrs. Bennet was quite in the fidgets. She\nlooked at Jane, and smiled, and shook her head by turns. \"Well, well, and so Mr. Bingley is coming down, sister,\" (for Mrs.\nPhilips first brought her the news.) \"Well, so much the better. Not that\nI care about it, though. He is nothing to us, you know, and I am sure\n_I_ never want to see him again. But, however, he is very welcome to\ncome to Netherfield, if he likes it. And who knows what _may_ happen? But that is nothing to us. You know, sister, we agreed long ago never to\nmention a word about it. And so, is it quite certain he is coming?\" \"You may depend on it,\" replied the other, \"for Mrs. Nicholls was in\nMeryton last night; I saw her passing by, and went out myself on purpose\nto know the truth of it; and she told me that it was certain true. He\ncomes down on Thursday at the latest, very likely on Wednesday. She was\ngoing to the butcher's, she told me, on purpose to order in some meat on\nWednesday, and she has got three couple of ducks, just fit to be\nkilled.\" Miss Bennet had not been able to hear of his coming, without changing\ncolour. It was many months since she had mentioned his name to\nElizabeth; but now, as soon as they were alone together, she said,\n\n\"I saw you look at me to-day, Lizzy, when my aunt told us of the present\nreport; and I know I appeared distressed. But don't imagine it was from\nany silly cause. I was only confused for the moment, because I felt\nthat I _should_ be looked at. I do assure you, that the news does not\naffect me either with pleasure or pain. I am glad of one thing, that he\ncomes alone; because we shall see the less of him. Not that I am afraid\nof _myself_, but I dread other people's remarks.\" Elizabeth did not know what to make of it.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-08, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-11 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Had she not seen him in\nDerbyshire, she might have supposed him capable of coming there, with no\nother view than what was acknowledged; but she still thought him partial\nto Jane, and she wavered as to the greater probability of his coming\nthere _with_ his friend's permission, or being bold enough to come\nwithout it. \"Yet it is hard,\" she sometimes thought, \"that this poor man cannot come\nto a house, which he has legally hired, without raising all this\nspeculation! I _will_ leave him to himself.\" In spite of what her sister declared, and really believed to be her\nfeelings, in the expectation of his arrival, Elizabeth could easily\nperceive that her spirits were affected by it. They were more disturbed,\nmore unequal, than she had often seen them. The subject which had been so warmly canvassed between their parents,\nabout a twelvemonth ago, was now brought forward again. \"As soon as ever Mr. Bingley comes, my dear,\" said Mrs. Bennet, \"you\nwill wait on him of course.\" \"No, no. You forced me into visiting him last year, and promised if I\nwent to see him, he should marry one of my daughters. But it ended in\nnothing, and I will not be sent on a fool's errand again.\" His wife represented to him how absolutely necessary such an attention\nwould be from all the neighbouring gentlemen, on his returning to\nNetherfield. \"'Tis an etiquette I despise,\" said he. \"If he wants our society, let\nhim seek it. He knows where we live. I will not spend _my_ hours in\nrunning after my neighbours every time they go away, and come back\nagain.\" \"Well, all I know is, that it will be abominably rude if you do not\nwait on him. But, however, that shan't prevent my asking him to dine\nhere, I am determined. We must have Mrs. Long and the Gouldings soon. That will make thirteen with ourselves, so there will be just room at\ntable for him.\" Consoled by this resolution, she was the better able to bear her\nhusband's incivility; though it was very mortifying to know that her\nneighbours might all see Mr. Bingley in consequence of it, before _they_\ndid. As the day of his arrival drew near,\n\n\"I begin to be sorry that he comes at all,\" said Jane to her sister. \"It\nwould be nothing; I could see him with perfect indifference, but I can\nhardly bear to hear it thus perpetually talked of. My mother means well;\nbut she does not know, no one can know how much I suffer from what she\nsays. Happy shall I be, when his stay at Netherfield is over!\" \"I wish I could say any thing to comfort you,\" replied Elizabeth; \"but\nit is wholly out of my power. You must feel it; and the usual\nsatisfaction of preaching patience to a sufferer is denied me, because\nyou have always so much.\" Mr. Bingley arrived. Mrs. Bennet, through the assistance of servants,\ncontrived to have the earliest tidings of it, that the period of anxiety\nand fretfulness on her side, might be as long as it could. She counted\nthe days that must intervene before their invitation could be sent;\nhopeless of seeing him before. But on the third morning after his\narrival in Hertfordshire, she saw him from her dressing-room window,\nenter the paddock, and ride towards the house. Her daughters were eagerly called to partake of her joy. Jane resolutely\nkept her place at the table; but Elizabeth, to satisfy her mother, went\nto the window--she looked,--she saw Mr. Darcy with him, and sat down\nagain by her sister. \"There is a gentleman with him, mamma,\" said Kitty; \"who can it be?\" \"Some acquaintance or other, my dear, I suppose; I am sure I do not\nknow.\" \"La!\" replied Kitty, \"it looks just like that man that used to be with\nhim before. Mr. what's his name. That tall, proud man.\" \"Good gracious! Mr. Darcy!--and so it does I vow. Well, any friend of\nMr. Bingley's will always be welcome here to be sure; but else I must\nsay that I hate the very sight of him.\" Jane looked at Elizabeth with surprise and concern. She knew but little\nof their meeting in Derbyshire, and therefore felt for the awkwardness\nwhich must attend her sister, in seeing him almost for the first time\nafter receiving his explanatory letter. Both sisters were uncomfortable\nenough. Each felt for the other, and of course for themselves; and their\nmother talked on, of her dislike of Mr. Darcy, and her resolution to be\ncivil to him only as Mr. Bingley's friend, without being heard by either\nof them. But Elizabeth had sources of uneasiness which could not be\nsuspected by Jane, to whom she had never yet had courage to shew Mrs.\nGardiner's letter, or to relate her own change of sentiment towards him. To Jane, he could be only a man whose proposals she had refused, and\nwhose merit she had undervalued; but to her own more extensive\ninformation, he was the person, to whom the whole family were indebted\nfor the first of benefits, and whom she regarded herself with an\ninterest, if not quite so tender, at least as reasonable and just, as\nwhat Jane felt for Bingley. Her astonishment at his coming--at his\ncoming to Netherfield, to Longbourn, and voluntarily seeking her again,\nwas almost equal to what she had known on first witnessing his altered\nbehaviour in Derbyshire. The colour which had been driven from her face, returned for half a\nminute with an additional glow, and a smile of delight added lustre to\nher eyes, as she thought for that space of time, that his affection and\nwishes must still be unshaken. But she would not be secure. \"Let me first see how he behaves,\" said she; \"it will then be early\nenough for expectation.\" She sat intently at work, striving to be composed, and without daring to\nlift up her eyes, till anxious curiosity carried them to the face of her\nsister, as the servant was approaching the door. Jane looked a little\npaler than usual, but more sedate than Elizabeth had expected. On the\ngentlemen's appearing, her colour increased; yet she received them with\ntolerable ease, and with a propriety of behaviour equally free from any\nsymptom of resentment, or any unnecessary complaisance. Elizabeth said as little to either as civility would allow, and sat down\nagain to her work, with an eagerness which it did not often command. She\nhad ventured only one glance at Darcy. He looked serious as usual; and\nshe thought, more as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire, than as\nshe had seen him at Pemberley. But, perhaps he could not in her mother's\npresence be what he was before her uncle and aunt. It was a painful, but\nnot an improbable, conjecture. Bingley, she had likewise seen for an instant, and in that short period\nsaw him looking both pleased and embarrassed. He was received by Mrs.\nBennet with a degree of civility, which made her two daughters ashamed,\nespecially when contrasted with the cold and ceremonious politeness of\nher curtsey and address to his friend. Elizabeth particularly, who knew that her mother owed to the latter the\npreservation of her favourite daughter from irremediable infamy, was\nhurt and distressed to a most painful degree by a distinction so ill\napplied. Darcy, after enquiring of her how Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner did, a question\nwhich she could not answer without confusion, said scarcely any thing. He was not seated by her; perhaps that was the reason of his silence;\nbut it had not been so in Derbyshire. There he had talked to her\nfriends, when he could not to herself. But now several minutes elapsed,\nwithout bringing the sound of his voice; and when occasionally, unable\nto resist the impulse of curiosity, she raised her eyes to his face, she\nas often found him looking at Jane, as at herself, and frequently on no\nobject but the ground. More thoughtfulness, and less anxiety to please\nthan when they last met, were plainly expressed. She was disappointed,\nand angry with herself for being so. \"Could I expect it to be otherwise!\" said she. \"Yet why did he come?\" She was in no humour for conversation with any one but himself; and to\nhim she had hardly courage to speak. She enquired after his sister, but could do no more. \"It is a long time, Mr. Bingley, since you went away,\" said Mrs. Bennet. He readily agreed to it. \"I began to be afraid you would never come back again. People _did_ say,\nyou meant to quit the place entirely at Michaelmas; but, however, I hope\nit is not true. A great many changes have happened in the neighbourhood,\nsince you went away.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-11, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-12 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Miss Lucas is married and settled. And one of my\nown daughters. I suppose you have heard of it; indeed, you must have\nseen it in the papers. It was in the Times and the Courier, I know;\nthough it was not put in as it ought to be. It was only said, 'Lately,\nGeorge Wickham, Esq. to Miss Lydia Bennet,' without there being a\nsyllable said of her father, or the place where she lived, or any thing. It was my brother Gardiner's drawing up too, and I wonder how he came to\nmake such an awkward business of it. Did you see it?\" Bingley replied that he did, and made his congratulations. Elizabeth\ndared not lift up her eyes. How Mr. Darcy looked, therefore, she could\nnot tell. \"It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter well married,\"\ncontinued her mother, \"but at the same time, Mr. Bingley, it is very\nhard to have her taken such a way from me. They are gone down to\nNewcastle, a place quite northward, it seems, and there they are to\nstay, I do not know how long. His regiment is there; for I suppose you\nhave heard of his leaving the ----shire, and of his being gone into the\nregulars. Thank Heaven! he has _some_ friends, though perhaps not so\nmany as he deserves.\" Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy, was in such misery\nof shame, that she could hardly keep her seat. It drew from her,\nhowever, the exertion of speaking, which nothing else had so effectually\ndone before; and she asked Bingley, whether he meant to make any stay in\nthe country at present. A few weeks, he believed. \"When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley,\" said her mother,\n\"I beg you will come here, and shoot as many as you please, on Mr.\nBennet's manor. I am sure he will be vastly happy to oblige you, and\nwill save all the best of the covies for you.\" Elizabeth's misery increased, at such unnecessary, such officious\nattention! Were the same fair prospect to arise at present, as had\nflattered them a year ago, every thing, she was persuaded, would be\nhastening to the same vexatious conclusion. At that instant she felt,\nthat years of happiness could not make Jane or herself amends, for\nmoments of such painful confusion. \"The first wish of my heart,\" said she to herself, \"is never more to be\nin company with either of them. Their society can afford no pleasure,\nthat will atone for such wretchedness as this! Let me never see either\none or the other again!\" Yet the misery, for which years of happiness were to offer no\ncompensation, received soon afterwards material relief, from observing\nhow much the beauty of her sister re-kindled the admiration of her\nformer lover. When first he came in, he had spoken to her but little;\nbut every five minutes seemed to be giving her more of his attention. He\nfound her as handsome as she had been last year; as good natured, and as\nunaffected, though not quite so chatty. Jane was anxious that no\ndifference should be perceived in her at all, and was really persuaded\nthat she talked as much as ever. But her mind was so busily engaged,\nthat she did not always know when she was silent. When the gentlemen rose to go away, Mrs. Bennet was mindful of her\nintended civility, and they were invited and engaged to dine at\nLongbourn in a few days time. \"You are quite a visit in my debt, Mr. Bingley,\" she added, \"for when\nyou went to town last winter, you promised to take a family dinner with\nus, as soon as you returned. I have not forgot, you see; and I assure\nyou, I was very much disappointed that you did not come back and keep\nyour engagement.\" Bingley looked a little silly at this reflection, and said something of\nhis concern, at having been prevented by business. They then went away. Mrs. Bennet had been strongly inclined to ask them to stay and dine\nthere, that day; but, though she always kept a very good table, she did\nnot think any thing less than two courses, could be good enough for a\nman, on whom she had such anxious designs, or satisfy the appetite and\npride of one who had ten thousand a-year. As soon as they were gone, Elizabeth walked out to recover her spirits;\nor in other words, to dwell without interruption on those subjects that\nmust deaden them more. Mr. Darcy's behaviour astonished and vexed her. \"Why, if he came only to be silent, grave, and indifferent,\" said she,\n\"did he come at all?\" She could settle it in no way that gave her pleasure. \"He could be still amiable, still pleasing, to my uncle and aunt, when\nhe was in town; and why not to me? If he fears me, why come hither? If\nhe no longer cares for me, why silent? Teazing, teazing, man! I will\nthink no more about him.\" Her resolution was for a short time involuntarily kept by the approach\nof her sister, who joined her with a cheerful look, which shewed her\nbetter satisfied with their visitors, than Elizabeth. \"Now,\" said she, \"that this first meeting is over, I feel perfectly\neasy. I know my own strength, and I shall never be embarrassed again by\nhis coming. I am glad he dines here on Tuesday. It will then be publicly\nseen, that on both sides, we meet only as common and indifferent\nacquaintance.\" \"Yes, very indifferent indeed,\" said Elizabeth, laughingly. \"Oh, Jane,\ntake care.\" \"My dear Lizzy, you cannot think me so weak, as to be in danger now.\" \"I think you are in very great danger of making him as much in love with\nyou as ever.\" *       *       *       *       *\n\nThey did not see the gentlemen again till Tuesday; and Mrs. Bennet, in\nthe meanwhile, was giving way to all the happy schemes, which the good\nhumour, and common politeness of Bingley, in half an hour's visit, had\nrevived. On Tuesday there was a large party assembled at Longbourn; and the two,\nwho were most anxiously expected, to the credit of their punctuality as\nsportsmen, were in very good time. When they repaired to the\ndining-room, Elizabeth eagerly watched to see whether Bingley would take\nthe place, which, in all their former parties, had belonged to him, by\nher sister. Her prudent mother, occupied by the same ideas, forbore to\ninvite him to sit by herself. On entering the room, he seemed to\nhesitate; but Jane happened to look round, and happened to smile: it was\ndecided. He placed himself by her. Elizabeth, with a triumphant sensation, looked towards his friend. He\nbore it with noble indifference, and she would have imagined that\nBingley had received his sanction to be happy, had she not seen his eyes\nlikewise turned towards Mr. Darcy, with an expression of half-laughing\nalarm. His behaviour to her sister was such, during dinner time, as shewed an\nadmiration of her, which, though more guarded than formerly, persuaded\nElizabeth, that if left wholly to himself, Jane's happiness, and his\nown, would be speedily secured. Though she dared not depend upon the\nconsequence, she yet received pleasure from observing his behaviour. It\ngave her all the animation that her spirits could boast; for she was in\nno cheerful humour. Mr. Darcy was almost as far from her, as the table\ncould divide them. He was on one side of her mother. She knew how little\nsuch a situation would give pleasure to either, or make either appear to\nadvantage. She was not near enough to hear any of their discourse, but\nshe could see how seldom they spoke to each other, and how formal and\ncold was their manner, whenever they did. Her mother's ungraciousness,\nmade the sense of what they owed him more painful to Elizabeth's mind;\nand she would, at times, have given any thing to be privileged to tell\nhim, that his kindness was neither unknown nor unfelt by the whole of\nthe family. She was in hopes that the evening would afford some opportunity of\nbringing them together; that the whole of the visit would not pass away\nwithout enabling them to enter into something more of conversation, than\nthe mere ceremonious salutation attending his entrance. Anxious and\nuneasy, the period which passed in the drawing-room, before the\ngentlemen came, was wearisome and dull to a degree, that almost made her\nuncivil. She looked forward to their entrance, as the point on which all\nher chance of pleasure for the evening must depend. \"If he does not come to me, _then_,\" said she, \"I shall give him up for\never.\"\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-12, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-13 The user is reading a book]\n<User> The gentlemen came; and she thought he looked as if he would have\nanswered her hopes; but, alas! the ladies had crowded round the table,\nwhere Miss Bennet was making tea, and Elizabeth pouring out the coffee,\nin so close a confederacy, that there was not a single vacancy near her,\nwhich would admit of a chair. And on the gentlemen's approaching, one of\nthe girls moved closer to her than ever, and said, in a whisper,\n\n\"The men shan't come and part us, I am determined. We want none of them;\ndo we?\" Darcy had walked away to another part of the room. She followed him with\nher eyes, envied every one to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience\nenough to help anybody to coffee; and then was enraged against herself\nfor being so silly! \"A man who has once been refused! How could I ever be foolish enough to\nexpect a renewal of his love? Is there one among the sex, who would not\nprotest against such a weakness as a second proposal to the same woman? There is no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings!\" She was a little revived, however, by his bringing back his coffee cup\nhimself; and she seized the opportunity of saying,\n\n\"Is your sister at Pemberley still?\" \"Yes, she will remain there till Christmas.\" \"And quite alone? Have all her friends left her?\" \"Mrs. Annesley is with her. The others have been gone on to Scarborough,\nthese three weeks.\" She could think of nothing more to say; but if he wished to converse\nwith her, he might have better success. He stood by her, however, for\nsome minutes, in silence; and, at last, on the young lady's whispering\nto Elizabeth again, he walked away. When the tea-things were removed, and the card tables placed, the ladies\nall rose, and Elizabeth was then hoping to be soon joined by him, when\nall her views were overthrown, by seeing him fall a victim to her\nmother's rapacity for whist players, and in a few moments after seated\nwith the rest of the party. She now lost every expectation of pleasure. They were confined for the evening at different tables, and she had\nnothing to hope, but that his eyes were so often turned towards her side\nof the room, as to make him play as unsuccessfully as herself. Mrs. Bennet had designed to keep the two Netherfield gentlemen to\nsupper; but their carriage was unluckily ordered before any of the\nothers, and she had no opportunity of detaining them. \"Well girls,\" said she, as soon as they were left to themselves, \"What\nsay you to the day? I think every thing has passed off uncommonly well,\nI assure you. The dinner was as well dressed as any I ever saw. The\nvenison was roasted to a turn--and everybody said, they never saw so fat\na haunch. The soup was fifty times better than what we had at the\nLucas's last week; and even Mr. Darcy acknowledged, that the partridges\nwere remarkably well done; and I suppose he has two or three French\ncooks at least. And, my dear Jane, I never saw you look in greater\nbeauty. Mrs. Long said so too, for I asked her whether you did not. And\nwhat do you think she said besides? 'Ah! Mrs. Bennet, we shall have her\nat Netherfield at last.' She did indeed. I do think Mrs. Long is as good\na creature as ever lived--and her nieces are very pretty behaved girls,\nand not at all handsome: I like them prodigiously.\" Mrs. Bennet, in short, was in very great spirits; she had seen enough of\nBingley's behaviour to Jane, to be convinced that she would get him at\nlast; and her expectations of advantage to her family, when in a happy\nhumour, were so far beyond reason, that she was quite disappointed at\nnot seeing him there again the next day, to make his proposals. \"It has been a very agreeable day,\" said Miss Bennet to Elizabeth. \"The\nparty seemed so well selected, so suitable one with the other. I hope we\nmay often meet again.\" Elizabeth smiled. \"Lizzy, you must not do so. You must not suspect me. It mortifies me. I\nassure you that I have now learnt to enjoy his conversation as an\nagreeable and sensible young man, without having a wish beyond it. I am\nperfectly satisfied from what his manners now are, that he never had any\ndesign of engaging my affection. It is only that he is blessed with\ngreater sweetness of address, and a stronger desire of generally\npleasing than any other man.\" \"You are very cruel,\" said her sister, \"you will not let me smile, and\nare provoking me to it every moment.\" \"How hard it is in some cases to be believed!\" \"And how impossible in others!\" \"But why should you wish to persuade me that I feel more than I\nacknowledge?\" \"That is a question which I hardly know how to answer. We all love to\ninstruct, though we can teach only what is not worth knowing. Forgive\nme; and if you persist in indifference, do not make _me_ your\nconfidante.\" A few days after this visit, Mr. Bingley called again, and alone. His\nfriend had left him that morning for London, but was to return home in\nten days time. He sat with them above an hour, and was in remarkably\ngood spirits. Mrs. Bennet invited him to dine with them; but, with many\nexpressions of concern, he confessed himself engaged elsewhere. \"Next time you call,\" said she, \"I hope we shall be more lucky.\" He should be particularly happy at any time, &c. &c.; and if she would\ngive him leave, would take an early opportunity of waiting on them. \"Can you come to-morrow?\" Yes, he had no engagement at all for to-morrow; and her invitation was\naccepted with alacrity. He came, and in such very good time, that the ladies were none of them\ndressed. In ran Mrs. Bennet to her daughter's room, in her dressing\ngown, and with her hair half finished, crying out,\n\n\"My dear Jane, make haste and hurry down. He is come--Mr. Bingley is\ncome.--He is, indeed. Make haste, make haste. Here, Sarah, come to Miss\nBennet this moment, and help her on with her gown. Never mind Miss\nLizzy's hair.\" \"We will be down as soon as we can,\" said Jane; \"but I dare say Kitty is\nforwarder than either of us, for she went up stairs half an hour ago.\" \"Oh! hang Kitty! what has she to do with it? Come be quick, be quick! where is your sash my dear?\" But when her mother was gone, Jane would not be prevailed on to go down\nwithout one of her sisters. The same anxiety to get them by themselves, was visible again in the\nevening. After tea, Mr. Bennet retired to the library, as was his\ncustom, and Mary went up stairs to her instrument. Two obstacles of the\nfive being thus removed, Mrs. Bennet sat looking and winking at\nElizabeth and Catherine for a considerable time, without making any\nimpression on them. Elizabeth would not observe her; and when at last\nKitty did, she very innocently said, \"What is the matter mamma? What do\nyou keep winking at me for? What am I to do?\" \"Nothing child, nothing. I did not wink at you.\" She then sat still five\nminutes longer; but unable to waste such a precious occasion, she\nsuddenly got up, and saying to Kitty,\n\n\"Come here, my love, I want to speak to you,\" took her out of the room. Jane instantly gave a look at Elizabeth, which spoke her distress at\nsuch premeditation, and her intreaty that _she_ would not give into it. In a few minutes, Mrs. Bennet half opened the door and called out,\n\n\"Lizzy, my dear, I want to speak with you.\" Elizabeth was forced to go. \"We may as well leave them by themselves you know;\" said her mother as\nsoon as she was in the hall. \"Kitty and I are going upstairs to sit in\nmy dressing-room.\" Elizabeth made no attempt to reason with her mother, but remained\nquietly in the hall, till she and Kitty were out of sight, then returned\ninto the drawing-room. Mrs. Bennet's schemes for this day were ineffectual. Bingley was every\nthing that was charming, except the professed lover of her daughter. His\nease and cheerfulness rendered him a most agreeable addition to their\nevening party; and he bore with the ill-judged officiousness of the\nmother, and heard all her silly remarks with a forbearance and command\nof countenance, particularly grateful to the daughter.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-13, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-15 The user is reading a book]\n<User> He scarcely needed an invitation to stay supper; and before he went\naway, an engagement was formed, chiefly through his own and Mrs.\nBennet's means, for his coming next morning to shoot with her husband. After this day, Jane said no more of her indifference. Not a word passed\nbetween the sisters concerning Bingley; but Elizabeth went to bed in\nthe happy belief that all must speedily be concluded, unless Mr. Darcy\nreturned within the stated time. Seriously, however, she felt tolerably\npersuaded that all this must have taken place with that gentleman's\nconcurrence. Bingley was punctual to his appointment; and he and Mr. Bennet spent the\nmorning together, as had been agreed on. The latter was much more\nagreeable than his companion expected. There was nothing of presumption\nor folly in Bingley, that could provoke his ridicule, or disgust him\ninto silence; and he was more communicative, and less eccentric than the\nother had ever seen him. Bingley of course returned with him to dinner;\nand in the evening Mrs. Bennet's invention was again at work to get\nevery body away from him and her daughter. Elizabeth, who had a letter\nto write, went into the breakfast room for that purpose soon after tea;\nfor as the others were all going to sit down to cards, she could not be\nwanted to counteract her mother's schemes. But on returning to the drawing-room, when her letter was finished, she\nsaw, to her infinite surprise, there was reason to fear that her mother\nhad been too ingenious for her. On opening the door, she perceived her\nsister and Bingley standing together over the hearth, as if engaged in\nearnest conversation; and had this led to no suspicion, the faces of\nboth as they hastily turned round, and moved away from each other, would\nhave told it all. _Their_ situation was awkward enough; but _her's_ she\nthought was still worse. Not a syllable was uttered by either; and\nElizabeth was on the point of going away again, when Bingley, who as\nwell as the other had sat down, suddenly rose, and whispering a few\nwords to her sister, ran out of the room. Jane could have no reserves from Elizabeth, where confidence would give\npleasure; and instantly embracing her, acknowledged, with the liveliest\nemotion, that she was the happiest creature in the world. \"'Tis too much!\" she added, \"by far too much. I do not deserve it. Oh! why is not every body as happy?\" Elizabeth's congratulations were given with a sincerity, a warmth, a\ndelight, which words could but poorly express. Every sentence of\nkindness was a fresh source of happiness to Jane. But she would not\nallow herself to stay with her sister, or say half that remained to be\nsaid, for the present. \"I must go instantly to my mother;\" she cried. \"I would not on any\naccount trifle with her affectionate solicitude; or allow her to hear it\nfrom any one but myself. He is gone to my father already. Oh! Lizzy, to\nknow that what I have to relate will give such pleasure to all my dear\nfamily! how shall I bear so much happiness!\" She then hastened away to her mother, who had purposely broken up the\ncard party, and was sitting up stairs with Kitty. Elizabeth, who was left by herself, now smiled at the rapidity and ease\nwith which an affair was finally settled, that had given them so many\nprevious months of suspense and vexation. \"And this,\" said she, \"is the end of all his friend's anxious\ncircumspection! of all his sister's falsehood and contrivance! the\nhappiest, wisest, most reasonable end!\" In a few minutes she was joined by Bingley, whose conference with her\nfather had been short and to the purpose. \"Where is your sister?\" said he hastily, as he opened the door. \"With my mother up stairs. She will be down in a moment I dare say.\" He then shut the door, and coming up to her, claimed the good wishes and\naffection of a sister. Elizabeth honestly and heartily expressed her\ndelight in the prospect of their relationship. They shook hands with\ngreat cordiality; and then till her sister came down, she had to listen\nto all he had to say, of his own happiness, and of Jane's perfections;\nand in spite of his being a lover, Elizabeth really believed all his\nexpectations of felicity, to be rationally founded, because they had for\nbasis the excellent understanding, and super-excellent disposition of\nJane, and a general similarity of feeling and taste between her and\nhimself. It was an evening of no common delight to them all; the satisfaction of\nMiss Bennet's mind gave a glow of such sweet animation to her face, as\nmade her look handsomer than ever. Kitty simpered and smiled, and hoped\nher turn was coming soon. Mrs. Bennet could not give her consent, or\nspeak her approbation in terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings,\nthough she talked to Bingley of nothing else, for half an hour; and when\nMr. Bennet joined them at supper, his voice and manner plainly shewed\nhow really happy he was. Not a word, however, passed his lips in allusion to it, till their\nvisitor took his leave for the night; but as soon as he was gone, he\nturned to his daughter and said,\n\n\"Jane, I congratulate you. You will be a very happy woman.\" Jane went to him instantly, kissed him, and thanked him for his\ngoodness. \"You are a good girl;\" he replied, \"and I have great pleasure in\nthinking you will be so happily settled. I have not a doubt of your\ndoing very well together. Your tempers are by no means unlike. You are\neach of you so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so\neasy, that every servant will cheat you; and so generous, that you will\nalways exceed your income.\" \"I hope not so. Imprudence or thoughtlessness in money matters, would be\nunpardonable in _me_.\" \"Exceed their income! My dear Mr. Bennet,\" cried his wife, \"what are you\ntalking of? Why, he has four or five thousand a-year, and very likely\nmore.\" Then addressing her daughter, \"Oh! my dear, dear Jane, I am so\nhappy! I am sure I sha'nt get a wink of sleep all night. I knew how it\nwould be. I always said it must be so, at last. I was sure you could not\nbe so beautiful for nothing! I remember, as soon as ever I saw him, when\nhe first came into Hertfordshire last year, I thought how likely it was\nthat you should come together. Oh! he is the handsomest young man that\never was seen!\" Wickham, Lydia, were all forgotten. Jane was beyond competition her\nfavourite child. At that moment, she cared for no other. Her younger\nsisters soon began to make interest with her for objects of happiness\nwhich she might in future be able to dispense. Mary petitioned for the use of the library at Netherfield; and Kitty\nbegged very hard for a few balls there every winter. Bingley, from this time, was of course a daily visitor at Longbourn;\ncoming frequently before breakfast, and always remaining till after\nsupper; unless when some barbarous neighbour, who could not be enough\ndetested, had given him an invitation to dinner, which he thought\nhimself obliged to accept. Elizabeth had now but little time for conversation with her sister; for\nwhile he was present, Jane had no attention to bestow on any one else;\nbut she found herself considerably useful to both of them, in those\nhours of separation that must sometimes occur. In the absence of Jane,\nhe always attached himself to Elizabeth, for the pleasure of talking of\nher; and when Bingley was gone, Jane constantly sought the same means of\nrelief. \"He has made me so happy,\" said she, one evening, \"by telling me, that\nhe was totally ignorant of my being in town last spring! I had not\nbelieved it possible.\" \"I suspected as much,\" replied Elizabeth. \"But how did he account for\nit?\" \"It must have been his sister's doing. They were certainly no friends to\nhis acquaintance with me, which I cannot wonder at, since he might have\nchosen so much more advantageously in many respects. But when they see,\nas I trust they will, that their brother is happy with me, they will\nlearn to be contented, and we shall be on good terms again; though we\ncan never be what we once were to each other.\" \"That is the most unforgiving speech,\" said Elizabeth, \"that I ever\nheard you utter. Good girl! It would vex me, indeed, to see you again\nthe dupe of Miss Bingley's pretended regard.\"\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-15, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-17 The user is reading a book]\n<User> \"Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he went to town last November,\nhe really loved me, and nothing but a persuasion of _my_ being\nindifferent, would have prevented his coming down again!\" \"He made a little mistake to be sure; but it is to the credit of his\nmodesty.\" This naturally introduced a panegyric from Jane on his diffidence, and\nthe little value he put on his own good qualities. Elizabeth was pleased to find, that he had not betrayed the interference\nof his friend, for, though Jane had the most generous and forgiving\nheart in the world, she knew it was a circumstance which must prejudice\nher against him. \"I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!\" cried\nJane. \"Oh! Lizzy, why am I thus singled from my family, and blessed\nabove them all! If I could but see _you_ as happy! If there _were_ but\nsuch another man for you!\" \"If you were to give me forty such men, I never could be so happy as\nyou. Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your\nhappiness. No, no, let me shift for myself; and, perhaps, if I have very\ngood luck, I may meet with another Mr. Collins in time.\" The situation of affairs in the Longbourn family could not be long a\nsecret. Mrs. Bennet was privileged to whisper it to Mrs. Philips, and\n_she_ ventured, without any permission, to do the same by all her\nneighbours in Meryton. The Bennets were speedily pronounced to be the luckiest family in the\nworld, though only a few weeks before, when Lydia had first run away,\nthey had been generally proved to be marked out for misfortune. One morning, about a week after Bingley's engagement with Jane had been\nformed, as he and the females of the family were sitting together in the\ndining-room, their attention was suddenly drawn to the window, by the\nsound of a carriage; and they perceived a chaise and four driving up the\nlawn. It was too early in the morning for visitors, and besides, the\nequipage did not answer to that of any of their neighbours. The horses\nwere post; and neither the carriage, nor the livery of the servant who\npreceded it, were familiar to them. As it was certain, however, that\nsomebody was coming, Bingley instantly prevailed on Miss Bennet to avoid\nthe confinement of such an intrusion, and walk away with him into the\nshrubbery. They both set off, and the conjectures of the remaining three\ncontinued, though with little satisfaction, till the door was thrown\nopen, and their visitor entered. It was lady Catherine de Bourgh. They were of course all intending to be surprised; but their\nastonishment was beyond their expectation; and on the part of Mrs.\nBennet and Kitty, though she was perfectly unknown to them, even\ninferior to what Elizabeth felt. She entered the room with an air more than usually ungracious, made no\nother reply to Elizabeth's salutation, than a slight inclination of the\nhead, and sat down without saying a word. Elizabeth had mentioned her\nname to her mother, on her ladyship's entrance, though no request of\nintroduction had been made. Mrs. Bennet all amazement, though flattered by having a guest of such\nhigh importance, received her with the utmost politeness. After sitting\nfor a moment in silence, she said very stiffly to Elizabeth,\n\n\"I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. That lady I suppose is your mother.\" Elizabeth replied very concisely that she was. \"And _that_ I suppose is one of your sisters.\" \"Yes, madam,\" said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak to a lady Catherine. \"She is my youngest girl but one. My youngest of all, is lately married,\nand my eldest is somewhere about the grounds, walking with a young man,\nwho I believe will soon become a part of the family.\" \"You have a very small park here,\" returned Lady Catherine after a short\nsilence. \"It is nothing in comparison of Rosings, my lady, I dare say; but I\nassure you it is much larger than Sir William Lucas's.\" \"This must be a most inconvenient sitting room for the evening, in\nsummer; the windows are full west.\" Mrs. Bennet assured her that they never sat there after dinner; and then\nadded,\n\n\"May I take the liberty of asking your ladyship whether you left Mr. and\nMrs. Collins well.\" \"Yes, very well. I saw them the night before last.\" Elizabeth now expected that she would produce a letter for her from\nCharlotte, as it seemed the only probable motive for her calling. But no\nletter appeared, and she was completely puzzled. Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, begged her ladyship to take some\nrefreshment; but Lady Catherine very resolutely, and not very politely,\ndeclined eating any thing; and then rising up, said to Elizabeth,\n\n\"Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of a little wilderness\non one side of your lawn. I should be glad to take a turn in it, if you\nwill favour me with your company.\" \"Go, my dear,\" cried her mother, \"and shew her ladyship about the\ndifferent walks. I think she will be pleased with the hermitage.\" Elizabeth obeyed, and running into her own room for her parasol,\nattended her noble guest down stairs. As they passed through the hall,\nLady Catherine opened the doors into the dining-parlour and\ndrawing-room, and pronouncing them, after a short survey, to be decent\nlooking rooms, walked on. Her carriage remained at the door, and Elizabeth saw that her\nwaiting-woman was in it. They proceeded in silence along the gravel walk\nthat led to the copse; Elizabeth was determined to make no effort for\nconversation with a woman, who was now more than usually insolent and\ndisagreeable. \"How could I ever think her like her nephew?\" said she, as she looked in\nher face. As soon as they entered the copse, Lady Catherine began in the following\nmanner:--\n\n\"You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my\njourney hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I\ncome.\" Elizabeth looked with unaffected astonishment. \"Indeed, you are mistaken, Madam. I have not been at all able to account\nfor the honour of seeing you here.\" \"Miss Bennet,\" replied her ladyship, in an angry tone, \"you ought to\nknow, that I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere _you_ may\nchoose to be, you shall not find _me_ so. My character has ever been\ncelebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such\nmoment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a most\nalarming nature, reached me two days ago. I was told, that not only your\nsister was on the point of being most advantageously married, but that\n_you_, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would, in all likelihood, be soon\nafterwards united to my nephew, my own nephew, Mr. Darcy. Though I\n_know_ it must be a scandalous falsehood; though I would not injure him\nso much as to suppose the truth of it possible, I instantly resolved on\nsetting off for this place, that I might make my sentiments known to\nyou.\" \"If you believed it impossible to be true,\" said Elizabeth, colouring\nwith astonishment and disdain, \"I wonder you took the trouble of coming\nso far. What could your ladyship propose by it?\" \"At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted.\" \"Your coming to Longbourn, to see me and my family,\" said Elizabeth,\ncoolly, \"will be rather a confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a report\nis in existence.\" \"If! do you then pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been\nindustriously circulated by yourselves? Do you not know that such a\nreport is spread abroad?\" \"I never heard that it was.\" \"And can you likewise declare, that there is no _foundation_ for it?\" \"I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. _You_\nmay ask questions, which _I_ shall not choose to answer.\" \"This is not to be borne. Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied. Has\nhe, has my nephew, made you an offer of marriage?\" \"Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible.\" \"It ought to be so; it must be so, while he retains the use of his\nreason. But _your_ arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation,\nhave made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. You\nmay have drawn him in.\" \"If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it.\" \"Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I have not been accustomed to such\nlanguage as this.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-17, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-20 The user is reading a book]\n<User> I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world,\nand am entitled to know all his dearest concerns.\" \"But you are not entitled to know _mine_; nor will such behaviour as\nthis, ever induce me to be explicit.\" \"Let me be rightly understood. This match, to which you have the\npresumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Mr. Darcy is\nengaged to _my daughter_. Now what have you to say?\" \"Only this; that if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he will\nmake an offer to me.\" Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment, and then replied,\n\n\"The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy,\nthey have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of\n_his_ mother, as well as of her's. While in their cradles, we planned\nthe union: and now, at the moment when the wishes of both sisters would\nbe accomplished, in their marriage, to be prevented by a young woman of\ninferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to\nthe family! Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends? To his\ntacit engagement with Miss De Bourgh? Are you lost to every feeling of\npropriety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say, that from his\nearliest hours he was destined for his cousin?\" \"Yes, and I had heard it before. But what is that to me? If there is no\nother objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be\nkept from it, by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to marry\nMiss De Bourgh. You both did as much as you could, in planning the\nmarriage. Its completion depended on others. If Mr. Darcy is neither by\nhonour nor inclination confined to his cousin, why is not he to make\nanother choice? And if I am that choice, why may not I accept him?\" \"Because honour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest, forbid it. Yes, Miss\nBennet, interest; for do not expect to be noticed by his family or\nfriends, if you wilfully act against the inclinations of all. You will\nbe censured, slighted, and despised, by every one connected with him. Your alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned\nby any of us.\" \"These are heavy misfortunes,\" replied Elizabeth. \"But the wife of Mr.\nDarcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily\nattached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause\nto repine.\" \"Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you! Is this your gratitude\nfor my attentions to you last spring? Is nothing due to me on that\nscore? \"Let us sit down. You are to understand, Miss Bennet, that I came here\nwith the determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will I be\ndissuaded from it. I have not been used to submit to any person's whims. I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment.\" \"_That_ will make your ladyship's situation at present more pitiable;\nbut it will have no effect on _me_.\" \"I will not be interrupted. Hear me in silence. My daughter and my\nnephew are formed for each other. They are descended on the maternal\nside, from the same noble line; and, on the father's, from respectable,\nhonourable, and ancient, though untitled families. Their fortune on both\nsides is splendid. They are destined for each other by the voice of\nevery member of their respective houses; and what is to divide them? The\nupstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, or\nfortune. Is this to be endured! But it must not, shall not be. If you\nwere sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere,\nin which you have been brought up.\" \"In marrying your nephew, I should not consider myself as quitting that\nsphere. He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman's daughter; so far we are\nequal.\" \"True. You _are_ a gentleman's daughter. But who was your mother? Who\nare your uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their\ncondition.\" \"Whatever my connections may be,\" said Elizabeth, \"if your nephew does\nnot object to them, they can be nothing to _you_.\" \"Tell me once for all, are you engaged to him?\" Though Elizabeth would not, for the mere purpose of obliging Lady\nCatherine, have answered this question; she could not but say, after a\nmoment's deliberation,\n\n\"I am not.\" Lady Catherine seemed pleased. \"And will you promise me, never to enter into such an engagement?\" \"I will make no promise of the kind.\" \"Miss Bennet I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find a more\nreasonable young woman. But do not deceive yourself into a belief that I\nwill ever recede. I shall not go away, till you have given me the\nassurance I require.\" \"And I certainly _never_ shall give it. I am not to be intimidated into\nanything so wholly unreasonable. Your ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry\nyour daughter; but would my giving you the wished-for promise, make\n_their_ marriage at all more probable? Supposing him to be attached to\nme, would _my_ refusing to accept his hand, make him wish to bestow it\non his cousin? Allow me to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with\nwhich you have supported this extraordinary application, have been as\nfrivolous as the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my\ncharacter, if you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these. How far your nephew might approve of your interference in _his_ affairs,\nI cannot tell; but you have certainly no right to concern yourself in\nmine. I must beg, therefore, to be importuned no farther on the\nsubject.\" \"Not so hasty, if you please. I have by no means done. To all the\nobjections I have already urged, I have still another to add. I am no\nstranger to the particulars of your youngest sister's infamous\nelopement. I know it all; that the young man's marrying her, was a\npatched-up business, at the expence of your father and uncles. And is\n_such_ a girl to be my nephew's sister? Is _her_ husband, is the son of\nhis late father's steward, to be his brother? Heaven and earth!--of what\nare you thinking? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?\" \"You can _now_ have nothing farther to say,\" she resentfully answered. \"You have insulted me, in every possible method. I must beg to return to\nthe house.\" And she rose as she spoke. Lady Catherine rose also, and they turned\nback. Her ladyship was highly incensed. \"You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of my nephew! Unfeeling, selfish girl! Do you not consider that a connection with you,\nmust disgrace him in the eyes of everybody?\" \"Lady Catherine, I have nothing farther to say. You know my sentiments.\" \"You are then resolved to have him?\" \"I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner,\nwhich will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without\nreference to _you_, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me.\" \"It is well. You refuse, then, to oblige me. You refuse to obey the\nclaims of duty, honour, and gratitude. You are determined to ruin him in\nthe opinion of all his friends, and make him the contempt of the world.\" \"Neither duty, nor honour, nor gratitude,\" replied Elizabeth, \"have any\npossible claim on me, in the present instance. No principle of either,\nwould be violated by my marriage with Mr. Darcy. And with regard to the\nresentment of his family, or the indignation of the world, if the former\n_were_ excited by his marrying me, it would not give me one moment's\nconcern--and the world in general would have too much sense to join in\nthe scorn.\" \"And this is your real opinion! This is your final resolve! Very well. I\nshall now know how to act. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that your\nambition will ever be gratified. I came to try you. I hoped to find you\nreasonable; but depend upon it I will carry my point.\" In this manner Lady Catherine talked on, till they were at the door of\nthe carriage, when turning hastily round, she added,\n\n\"I take no leave of you, Miss Bennet. I send no compliments to your\nmother. You deserve no such attention. I am most seriously displeased.\" Elizabeth made no answer; and without attempting to persuade her\nladyship to return into the house, walked quietly into it herself.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-20, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-21 The user is reading a book]\n<User> She\nheard the carriage drive away as she proceeded up stairs. Her mother\nimpatiently met her at the door of the dressing-room, to ask why Lady\nCatherine would not come in again and rest herself. \"She did not choose it,\" said her daughter, \"she would go.\" \"She is a very fine-looking woman! and her calling here was prodigiously\ncivil! for she only came, I suppose, to tell us the Collinses were well. She is on her road somewhere, I dare say, and so passing through\nMeryton, thought she might as well call on you. I suppose she had\nnothing particular to say to you, Lizzy?\" Elizabeth was forced to give into a little falsehood here; for to\nacknowledge the substance of their conversation was impossible. The discomposure of spirits, which this extraordinary visit threw\nElizabeth into, could not be easily overcome; nor could she for many\nhours, learn to think of it less than incessantly. Lady Catherine it\nappeared, had actually taken the trouble of this journey from Rosings,\nfor the sole purpose of breaking off her supposed engagement with Mr.\nDarcy. It was a rational scheme to be sure! but from what the report of\ntheir engagement could originate, Elizabeth was at a loss to imagine;\ntill she recollected that _his_ being the intimate friend of Bingley,\nand _her_ being the sister of Jane, was enough, at a time when the\nexpectation of one wedding, made every body eager for another, to supply\nthe idea. She had not herself forgotten to feel that the marriage of her\nsister must bring them more frequently together. And her neighbours at\nLucas lodge, therefore, (for through their communication with the\nCollinses, the report she concluded had reached lady Catherine) had only\nset _that_ down, as almost certain and immediate, which _she_ had looked\nforward to as possible, at some future time. In revolving lady Catherine's expressions, however, she could not help\nfeeling some uneasiness as to the possible consequence of her persisting\nin this interference. From what she had said of her resolution to\nprevent their marriage, it occurred to Elizabeth that she must meditate\nan application to her nephew; and how _he_ might take a similar\nrepresentation of the evils attached to a connection with her, she dared\nnot pronounce. She knew not the exact degree of his affection for his\naunt, or his dependence on her judgment, but it was natural to suppose\nthat he thought much higher of her ladyship than _she_ could do; and it\nwas certain, that in enumerating the miseries of a marriage with _one_,\nwhose immediate connections were so unequal to his own, his aunt would\naddress him on his weakest side. With his notions of dignity, he would\nprobably feel that the arguments, which to Elizabeth had appeared weak\nand ridiculous, contained much good sense and solid reasoning. If he had been wavering before, as to what he should do, which had often\nseemed likely, the advice and intreaty of so near a relation might\nsettle every doubt, and determine him at once to be as happy, as dignity\nunblemished could make him. In that case he would return no more. Lady\nCatherine might see him in her way through town; and his engagement to\nBingley of coming again to Netherfield must give way. \"If, therefore, an excuse for not keeping his promise, should come to\nhis friend within a few days,\" she added, \"I shall know how to\nunderstand it. I shall then give over every expectation, every wish of\nhis constancy. If he is satisfied with only regretting me, when he might\nhave obtained my affections and hand, I shall soon cease to regret him\nat all.\" *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe surprise of the rest of the family, on hearing who their visitor had\nbeen, was very great; but they obligingly satisfied it, with the same\nkind of supposition, which had appeased Mrs. Bennet's curiosity; and\nElizabeth was spared from much teazing on the subject. The next morning, as she was going down stairs, she was met by her\nfather, who came out of his library with a letter in his hand. \"Lizzy,\" said he, \"I was going to look for you; come into my room.\" She followed him thither; and her curiosity to know what he had to tell\nher, was heightened by the supposition of its being in some manner\nconnected with the letter he held. It suddenly struck her that it might\nbe from lady Catherine; and she anticipated with dismay all the\nconsequent explanations. She followed her father to the fire place, and they both sat down. He\nthen said,\n\n\"I have received a letter this morning that has astonished me\nexceedingly. As it principally concerns yourself, you ought to know its\ncontents. I did not know before, that I had _two_ daughters on the brink\nof matrimony. Let me congratulate you, on a very important conquest.\" The colour now rushed into Elizabeth's cheeks in the instantaneous\nconviction of its being a letter from the nephew, instead of the aunt;\nand she was undetermined whether most to be pleased that he explained\nhimself at all, or offended that his letter was not rather addressed to\nherself; when her father continued,\n\n\"You look conscious. Young ladies have great penetration in such matters\nas these; but I think I may defy even _your_ sagacity, to discover the\nname of your admirer. This letter is from Mr. Collins.\" \"From Mr. Collins! and what can _he_ have to say?\" \"Something very much to the purpose of course. He begins with\ncongratulations on the approaching nuptials of my eldest daughter, of\nwhich it seems he has been told, by some of the good-natured, gossiping\nLucases. I shall not sport with your impatience, by reading what he says\non that point. What relates to yourself, is as follows. \"Having thus\noffered you the sincere congratulations of Mrs. Collins and myself on\nthis happy event, let me now add a short hint on the subject of another:\nof which we have been advertised by the same authority. Your daughter\nElizabeth, it is presumed, will not long bear the name of Bennet, after\nher elder sister has resigned it, and the chosen partner of her fate,\nmay be reasonably looked up to, as one of the most illustrious\npersonages in this land.\" \"Can you possibly guess, Lizzy, who is meant by this?\" \"This young\ngentleman is blessed in a peculiar way, with every thing the heart of\nmortal can most desire,--splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive\npatronage. Yet in spite of all these temptations, let me warn my cousin\nElizabeth, and yourself, of what evils you may incur, by a precipitate\nclosure with this gentleman's proposals, which, of course, you will be\ninclined to take immediate advantage of.\" \"Have you any idea, Lizzy, who this gentleman is? But now it comes out.\" \"My motive for cautioning you, is as follows. We have reason to imagine\nthat his aunt, lady Catherine de Bourgh, does not look on the match with\na friendly eye.\" \"_Mr. Darcy_, you see, is the man! Now, Lizzy, I think I _have_\nsurprised you. Could he, or the Lucases, have pitched on any man, within\nthe circle of our acquaintance, whose name would have given the lie more\neffectually to what they related? Mr. Darcy, who never looks at any\nwoman but to see a blemish, and who probably never looked at _you_ in\nhis life! It is admirable!\" Elizabeth tried to join in her father's pleasantry, but could only force\none most reluctant smile. Never had his wit been directed in a manner so\nlittle agreeable to her. \"Are you not diverted?\" \"Oh! yes. Pray read on.\" \"After mentioning the likelihood of this marriage to her ladyship last\nnight, she immediately, with her usual condescension, expressed what she\nfelt on the occasion; when it became apparent, that on the score of some\nfamily objections on the part of my cousin, she would never give her\nconsent to what she termed so disgraceful a match. I thought it my duty\nto give the speediest intelligence of this to my cousin, that she and\nher noble admirer may be aware of what they are about, and not run\nhastily into a marriage which has not been properly sanctioned.\" \"Mr.\nCollins moreover adds,\" \"I am truly rejoiced that my cousin Lydia's sad\nbusiness has been so well hushed up, and am only concerned that their\nliving together before the marriage took place, should be so generally\nknown. I must not, however, neglect the duties of my station, or refrain\nfrom declaring my amazement, at hearing that you received the young\ncouple into your house as soon as they were married. It was an\nencouragement of vice; and had I been the rector of Longbourn, I should\nvery strenuously have opposed it.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-21, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-24 The user is reading a book]\n<User> You ought certainly to forgive them as\na christian, but never to admit them in your sight, or allow their names\nto be mentioned in your hearing.\" \"_That_ is his notion of christian\nforgiveness! The rest of his letter is only about his dear Charlotte's\nsituation, and his expectation of a young olive-branch. But, Lizzy, you\nlook as if you did not enjoy it. You are not going to be _Missish_, I\nhope, and pretend to be affronted at an idle report. For what do we\nlive, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our\nturn?\" \"Oh!\" cried Elizabeth, \"I am excessively diverted. But it is so\nstrange!\" \"Yes--_that_ is what makes it amusing. Had they fixed on any other man\nit would have been nothing; but _his_ perfect indifference, and _your_\npointed dislike, make it so delightfully absurd! Much as I abominate\nwriting, I would not give up Mr. Collins's correspondence for any\nconsideration. Nay, when I read a letter of his, I cannot help giving\nhim the preference even over Wickham, much as I value the impudence and\nhypocrisy of my son-in-law. And pray, Lizzy, what said Lady Catherine\nabout this report? Did she call to refuse her consent?\" To this question his daughter replied only with a laugh; and as it had\nbeen asked without the least suspicion, she was not distressed by his\nrepeating it. Elizabeth had never been more at a loss to make her\nfeelings appear what they were not. It was necessary to laugh, when she\nwould rather have cried. Her father had most cruelly mortified her, by\nwhat he said of Mr. Darcy's indifference, and she could do nothing but\nwonder at such a want of penetration, or fear that perhaps, instead of\nhis seeing too _little_, she might have fancied too _much_. Instead of receiving any such letter of excuse from his friend, as\nElizabeth half expected Mr. Bingley to do, he was able to bring Darcy\nwith him to Longbourn before many days had passed after Lady Catherine's\nvisit. The gentlemen arrived early; and, before Mrs. Bennet had time to\ntell him of their having seen his aunt, of which her daughter sat in\nmomentary dread, Bingley, who wanted to be alone with Jane, proposed\ntheir all walking out. It was agreed to. Mrs. Bennet was not in the\nhabit of walking, Mary could never spare time, but the remaining five\nset off together. Bingley and Jane, however, soon allowed the others to\noutstrip them. They lagged behind, while Elizabeth, Kitty, and Darcy,\nwere to entertain each other. Very little was said by either; Kitty was\ntoo much afraid of him to talk; Elizabeth was secretly forming a\ndesperate resolution; and perhaps he might be doing the same. They walked towards the Lucases, because Kitty wished to call upon\nMaria; and as Elizabeth saw no occasion for making it a general concern,\nwhen Kitty left them, she went boldly on with him alone. Now was the\nmoment for her resolution to be executed, and, while her courage was\nhigh, she immediately said,\n\n\"Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving\nrelief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding your's. I\ncan no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my poor\nsister. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to\nacknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest\nof my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express.\" \"I am sorry, exceedingly sorry,\" replied Darcy, in a tone of surprise\nand emotion, \"that you have ever been informed of what may, in a\nmistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I did not think Mrs.\nGardiner was so little to be trusted.\" \"You must not blame my aunt. Lydia's thoughtlessness first betrayed to\nme that you had been concerned in the matter; and, of course, I could\nnot rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again,\nin the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced\nyou to take so much trouble, and bear so many mortifications, for the\nsake of discovering them.\" \"If you _will_ thank me,\" he replied, \"let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you, might add force to the other\ninducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your\n_family_ owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe, I thought\nonly of _you_.\" Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause,\nher companion added, \"You are too generous to trifle with me. If your\nfeelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. _My_\naffections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence\nme on this subject for ever.\" Elizabeth feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of\nhis situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not\nvery fluently, gave him to understand, that her sentiments had undergone\nso material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to make\nher receive with gratitude and pleasure, his present assurances. The\nhappiness which this reply produced, was such as he had probably never\nfelt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as\nwarmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. Had Elizabeth\nbeen able to encounter his eye, she might have seen how well the\nexpression of heart-felt delight, diffused over his face, became him;\nbut, though she could not look, she could listen, and he told her of\nfeelings, which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his\naffection every moment more valuable. They walked on, without knowing in what direction. There was too much to\nbe thought; and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects. She\nsoon learnt that they were indebted for their present good understanding\nto the efforts of his aunt, who _did_ call on him in her return through\nLondon, and there relate her journey to Longbourn, its motive, and the\nsubstance of her conversation with Elizabeth; dwelling emphatically on\nevery expression of the latter, which, in her ladyship's apprehension,\npeculiarly denoted her perverseness and assurance, in the belief that\nsuch a relation must assist her endeavours to obtain that promise from\nher nephew, which _she_ had refused to give. But, unluckily for her\nladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise. \"It taught me to hope,\" said he, \"as I had scarcely ever allowed myself\nto hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain, that,\nhad you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have\nacknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly.\" Elizabeth coloured and laughed as she replied, \"Yes, you know enough of\nmy _frankness_ to believe me capable of _that_. After abusing you so\nabominably to your face, I could have no scruple in abusing you to all\nyour relations.\" \"What did you say of me, that I did not deserve? For, though your\naccusations were ill-founded, formed on mistaken premises, my behaviour\nto you at the time, had merited the severest reproof. It was\nunpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence.\" \"We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that\nevening,\" said Elizabeth. \"The conduct of neither, if strictly examined,\nwill be irreproachable; but since then, we have both, I hope, improved\nin civility.\" \"I cannot be so easily reconciled to myself. The recollection of what I\nthen said, of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of\nit, is now, and has been many months, inexpressibly painful to me. Your\nreproof, so well applied, I shall never forget: 'had you behaved in a\nmore gentleman-like manner.' Those were your words. You know not, you\ncan scarcely conceive, how they have tortured me;--though it was some\ntime, I confess, before I was reasonable enough to allow their justice.\" \"I was certainly very far from expecting them to make so strong an\nimpression. I had not the smallest idea of their being ever felt in such\na way.\" \"I can easily believe it. You thought me then devoid of every proper\nfeeling, I am sure you did. The turn of your countenance I shall never\nforget, as you said that I could not have addressed you in any possible\nway, that would induce you to accept me.\" \"Oh! do not repeat what I then said. These recollections will not do at\nall. I assure you, that I have long been most heartily ashamed of it.\" Darcy mentioned his letter.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-24, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-25 The user is reading a book]\n<User> \"Did it,\" said he, \"did it _soon_ make you\nthink better of me? Did you, on reading it, give any credit to its\ncontents?\" She explained what its effect on her had been, and how gradually all her\nformer prejudices had been removed. \"I knew,\" said he, \"that what I wrote must give you pain, but it was\nnecessary. I hope you have destroyed the letter. There was one part\nespecially, the opening of it, which I should dread your having the\npower of reading again. I can remember some expressions which might\njustly make you hate me.\" \"The letter shall certainly be burnt, if you believe it essential to the\npreservation of my regard; but, though we have both reason to think my\nopinions not entirely unalterable, they are not, I hope, quite so easily\nchanged as that implies.\" \"When I wrote that letter,\" replied Darcy, \"I believed myself perfectly\ncalm and cool, but I am since convinced that it was written in a\ndreadful bitterness of spirit.\" \"The letter, perhaps, began in bitterness, but it did not end so. The\nadieu is charity itself. But think no more of the letter. The feelings\nof the person who wrote, and the person who received it, are now so\nwidely different from what they were then, that every unpleasant\ncircumstance attending it, ought to be forgotten. You must learn some\nof my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you\npleasure.\" \"I cannot give you credit for any philosophy of the kind. _Your_\nretrospections must be so totally void of reproach, that the contentment\narising from them, is not of philosophy, but what is much better, of\nignorance. But with _me_, it is not so. Painful recollections will\nintrude, which cannot, which ought not to be repelled. I have been a\nselfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a\nchild I was taught what was _right_, but I was not taught to correct my\ntemper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride\nand conceit. Unfortunately an only son, (for many years an only _child_)\nI was spoilt by my parents, who though good themselves, (my father\nparticularly, all that was benevolent and amiable,) allowed, encouraged,\nalmost taught me to be selfish and overbearing, to care for none beyond\nmy own family circle, to think meanly of all the rest of the world, to\n_wish_ at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with\nmy own. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might\nstill have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not\nowe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most\nadvantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a\ndoubt of my reception. You shewed me how insufficient were all my\npretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.\" \"Had you then persuaded yourself that I should?\" \"Indeed I had. What will you think of my vanity? I believed you to be\nwishing, expecting my addresses.\" \"My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally I assure you. I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me wrong. How you must have hated me after _that_ evening?\" \"Hate you! I was angry perhaps at first, but my anger soon began to take\na proper direction.\" \"I am almost afraid of asking what you thought of me; when we met at\nPemberley. You blamed me for coming?\" \"No indeed; I felt nothing but surprise.\" \"Your surprise could not be greater than _mine_ in being noticed by you. My conscience told me that I deserved no extraordinary politeness, and I\nconfess that I did not expect to receive _more_ than my due.\" \"My object _then_,\" replied Darcy, \"was to shew you, by every civility\nin my power, that I was not so mean as to resent the past; and I hoped\nto obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill opinion, by letting you\nsee that your reproofs had been attended to. How soon any other wishes\nintroduced themselves I can hardly tell, but I believe in about half an\nhour after I had seen you.\" He then told her of Georgiana's delight in her acquaintance, and of her\ndisappointment at its sudden interruption; which naturally leading to\nthe cause of that interruption, she soon learnt that his resolution of\nfollowing her from Derbyshire in quest of her sister, had been formed\nbefore he quitted the inn, and that his gravity and thoughtfulness\nthere, had arisen from no other struggles than what such a purpose must\ncomprehend. She expressed her gratitude again, but it was too painful a subject to\neach, to be dwelt on farther. After walking several miles in a leisurely manner, and too busy to know\nany thing about it, they found at last, on examining their watches, that\nit was time to be at home. \"What could become of Mr. Bingley and Jane!\" was a wonder which\nintroduced the discussion of _their_ affairs. Darcy was delighted with\ntheir engagement; his friend had given him the earliest information of\nit. \"I must ask whether you were surprised?\" said Elizabeth. \"Not at all. When I went away, I felt that it would soon happen.\" \"That is to say, you had given your permission. I guessed as much.\" And\nthough he exclaimed at the term, she found that it had been pretty much\nthe case. \"On the evening before my going to London,\" said he \"I made a confession\nto him, which I believe I ought to have made long ago. I told him of\nall that had occurred to make my former interference in his affairs,\nabsurd and impertinent. His surprise was great. He had never had the\nslightest suspicion. I told him, moreover, that I believed myself\nmistaken in supposing, as I had done, that your sister was indifferent\nto him; and as I could easily perceive that his attachment to her was\nunabated, I felt no doubt of their happiness together.\" Elizabeth could not help smiling at his easy manner of directing his\nfriend. \"Did you speak from your own observation,\" said she, \"when you told him\nthat my sister loved him, or merely from my information last spring?\" \"From the former. I had narrowly observed her during the two visits\nwhich I had lately made her here; and I was convinced of her affection.\" \"And your assurance of it, I suppose, carried immediate conviction to\nhim.\" \"It did. Bingley is most unaffectedly modest. His diffidence had\nprevented his depending on his own judgment in so anxious a case, but\nhis reliance on mine, made every thing easy. I was obliged to confess\none thing, which for a time, and not unjustly, offended him. I could not\nallow myself to conceal that your sister had been in town three months\nlast winter, that I had known it, and purposely kept it from him. He was\nangry. But his anger, I am persuaded, lasted no longer than he remained\nin any doubt of your sister's sentiments. He has heartily forgiven me\nnow.\" Elizabeth longed to observe that Mr. Bingley had been a most delightful\nfriend; so easily guided that his worth was invaluable; but she checked\nherself. She remembered that he had yet to learn to be laught at, and it\nwas rather too early to begin. In anticipating the happiness of Bingley,\nwhich of course was to be inferior only to his own, he continued the\nconversation till they reached the house. In the hall they parted. \"My dear Lizzy, where can you have been walking to?\" was a question\nwhich Elizabeth received from Jane as soon as she entered the room, and\nfrom all the others when they sat down to table. She had only to say in\nreply, that they had wandered about, till she was beyond her own\nknowledge. She coloured as she spoke; but neither that, nor any thing\nelse, awakened a suspicion of the truth. The evening passed quietly, unmarked by any thing extraordinary. The\nacknowledged lovers talked and laughed, the unacknowledged were silent. Darcy was not of a disposition in which happiness overflows in mirth;\nand Elizabeth, agitated and confused, rather _knew_ that she was happy,\nthan _felt_ herself to be so; for, besides the immediate embarrassment,\nthere were other evils before her. She anticipated what would be felt in\nthe family when her situation became known; she was aware that no one\nliked him but Jane; and even feared that with the others it was a\n_dislike_ which not all his fortune and consequence might do away. At night she opened her heart to Jane. Though suspicion was very far\nfrom Miss Bennet's general habits, she was absolutely incredulous here. \"You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be!--engaged to Mr. Darcy!\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-25, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-27 The user is reading a book]\n<User> No, no,\nyou shall not deceive me. I know it to be impossible.\" \"This is a wretched beginning indeed! My sole dependence was on you; and\nI am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I am\nin earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we are\nengaged.\" Jane looked at her doubtingly. \"Oh, Lizzy! it cannot be. I know how much\nyou dislike him.\" \"You know nothing of the matter. _That_ is all to be forgot. Perhaps I\ndid not always love him so well as I do now. But in such cases as these,\na good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever\nremember it myself.\" Miss Bennet still looked all amazement. Elizabeth again, and more\nseriously assured her of its truth. \"Good Heaven! can it be really so! Yet now I must believe you,\" cried\nJane. \"My dear, dear Lizzy, I would--I do congratulate you--but are you\ncertain? forgive the question--are you quite certain that you can be\nhappy with him?\" \"There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already, that\nwe are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased,\nJane? Shall you like to have such a brother?\" \"Very, very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more\ndelight. But we considered it, we talked of it as impossible. And do you\nreally love him quite well enough? Oh, Lizzy! do any thing rather than\nmarry without affection. Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought\nto do?\" \"Oh, yes! You will only think I feel _more_ than I ought to do, when I\ntell you all.\" \"What do you mean?\" \"Why, I must confess, that I love him better than I do Bingley. I am\nafraid you will be angry.\" \"My dearest sister, now _be_ be serious. I want to talk very seriously. Let me know every thing that I am to know, without delay. Will you tell\nme how long you have loved him?\" \"It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began. But I believe I must date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds\nat Pemberley.\" Another intreaty that she would be serious, however, produced the\ndesired effect; and she soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances of\nattachment. When convinced on that article, Miss Bennet had nothing\nfarther to wish. \"Now I am quite happy,\" said she, \"for you will be as happy as myself. I\nalways had a value for him. Were it for nothing but his love of you, I\nmust always have esteemed him; but now, as Bingley's friend and your\nhusband, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. But\nLizzy, you have been very sly, very reserved with me. How little did you\ntell me of what passed at Pemberley and Lambton! I owe all that I know\nof it, to another, not to you.\" Elizabeth told her the motives of her secrecy. She had been unwilling to\nmention Bingley; and the unsettled state of her own feelings had made\nher equally avoid the name of his friend. But now she would no longer\nconceal from her, his share in Lydia's marriage. All was acknowledged,\nand half the night spent in conversation. *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Good gracious!\" cried Mrs. Bennet, as she stood at a window the next\nmorning, \"if that disagreeable Mr. Darcy is not coming here again with\nour dear Bingley! What can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always\ncoming here? I had no notion but he would go a shooting, or something or\nother, and not disturb us with his company. What shall we do with him? Lizzy, you must walk out with him again, that he may not be in Bingley's\nway.\" Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at so convenient a proposal; yet\nwas really vexed that her mother should be always giving him such an\nepithet. As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at her so expressively, and\nshook hands with such warmth, as left no doubt of his good information;\nand he soon afterwards said aloud, \"Mr. Bennet, have you no more lanes\nhereabouts in which Lizzy may lose her way again to-day?\" \"I advise Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty,\" said Mrs. Bennet, \"to walk\nto Oakham Mount this morning. It is a nice long walk, and Mr. Darcy has\nnever seen the view.\" \"It may do very well for the others,\" replied Mr. Bingley; \"but I am\nsure it will be too much for Kitty. Wont it, Kitty?\" Kitty owned that she had rather stay at home. Darcy professed a great\ncuriosity to see the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently\nconsented. As she went up stairs to get ready, Mrs. Bennet followed her,\nsaying,\n\n\"I am quite sorry, Lizzy, that you should be forced to have that\ndisagreeable man all to yourself. But I hope you will not mind it: it is\nall for Jane's sake, you know; and there is no occasion for talking to\nhim, except just now and then. So, do not put yourself to\ninconvenience.\" During their walk, it was resolved that Mr. Bennet's consent should be\nasked in the course of the evening. Elizabeth reserved to herself the\napplication for her mother's. She could not determine how her mother\nwould take it; sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeur\nwould be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man. But whether she\nwere violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it, it\nwas certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit to\nher sense; and she could no more bear that Mr. Darcy should hear the\nfirst raptures of her joy, than the first vehemence of her\ndisapprobation. *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the evening, soon after Mr. Bennet withdrew to the library, she saw\nMr. Darcy rise also and follow him, and her agitation on seeing it was\nextreme. She did not fear her father's opposition, but he was going to\nbe made unhappy, and that it should be through her means, that _she_,\nhis favourite child, should be distressing him by her choice, should be\nfilling him with fears and regrets in disposing of her, was a wretched\nreflection, and she sat in misery till Mr. Darcy appeared again, when,\nlooking at him, she was a little relieved by his smile. In a few minutes\nhe approached the table where she was sitting with Kitty; and, while\npretending to admire her work, said in a whisper, \"Go to your father, he\nwants you in the library.\" She was gone directly. Her father was walking about the room, looking grave and anxious. \"Lizzy,\" said he, \"what are you doing? Are you out of your senses, to be\naccepting this man? Have not you always hated him?\" How earnestly did she then wish that her former opinions had been more\nreasonable, her expressions more moderate! It would have spared her from\nexplanations and professions which it was exceedingly awkward to give;\nbut they were now necessary, and she assured him with some confusion, of\nher attachment to Mr. Darcy. \"Or in other words, you are determined to have him. He is rich, to be\nsure, and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than Jane. But will they make you happy?\" \"Have you any other objection,\" said Elizabeth, \"than your belief of my\nindifference?\" \"None at all. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; but\nthis would be nothing if you really liked him.\" \"I do, I do like him,\" she replied, with tears in her eyes, \"I love him. Indeed he has no improper pride. He is perfectly amiable. You do not\nknow what he really is; then pray do not pain me by speaking of him in\nsuch terms.\" \"Lizzy,\" said her father, \"I have given him my consent. He is the kind\nof man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse any thing, which he\ncondescended to ask. I now give it to _you_, if you are resolved on\nhaving him. But let me advise you to think better of it. I know your\ndisposition, Lizzy. I know that you could be neither happy nor\nrespectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband; unless you looked\nup to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the\ngreatest danger in an unequal marriage. You could scarcely escape\ndiscredit and misery.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-27, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-29 The user is reading a book]\n<User> My child, let me not have the grief of seeing\n_you_ unable to respect your partner in life. You know not what you are\nabout.\" Elizabeth, still more affected, was earnest and solemn in her reply;\nand at length, by repeated assurances that Mr. Darcy was really the\nobject of her choice, by explaining the gradual change which her\nestimation of him had undergone, relating her absolute certainty that\nhis affection was not the work of a day, but had stood the test of many\nmonths suspense, and enumerating with energy all his good qualities, she\ndid conquer her father's incredulity, and reconcile him to the match. \"Well, my dear,\" said he, when she ceased speaking, \"I have no more to\nsay. If this be the case, he deserves you. I could not have parted with\nyou, my Lizzy, to any one less worthy.\" To complete the favourable impression, she then told him what Mr. Darcy\nhad voluntarily done for Lydia. He heard her with astonishment. \"This is an evening of wonders, indeed! And so, Darcy did every thing;\nmade up the match, gave the money, paid the fellow's debts, and got him\nhis commission! So much the better. It will save me a world of trouble\nand economy. Had it been your uncle's doing, I must and _would_ have\npaid him; but these violent young lovers carry every thing their own\nway. I shall offer to pay him to-morrow; he will rant and storm about\nhis love for you, and there will be an end of the matter.\" He then recollected her embarrassment a few days before, on his reading\nMr. Collins's letter; and after laughing at her some time, allowed her\nat last to go--saying, as she quitted the room, \"If any young men come\nfor Mary or Kitty, send them in, for I am quite at leisure.\" Elizabeth's mind was now relieved from a very heavy weight; and, after\nhalf an hour's quiet reflection in her own room, she was able to join\nthe others with tolerable composure. Every thing was too recent for\ngaiety, but the evening passed tranquilly away; there was no longer any\nthing material to be dreaded, and the comfort of ease and familiarity\nwould come in time. When her mother went up to her dressing-room at night, she followed her,\nand made the important communication. Its effect was most\nextraordinary; for on first hearing it, Mrs. Bennet sat quite still, and\nunable to utter a syllable. Nor was it under many, many minutes, that\nshe could comprehend what she heard; though not in general backward to\ncredit what was for the advantage of her family, or that came in the\nshape of a lover to any of them. She began at length to recover, to\nfidget about in her chair, get up, sit down again, wonder, and bless\nherself. \"Good gracious! Lord bless me! only think! dear me! Mr. Darcy! Who would\nhave thought it! And is it really true? Oh! my sweetest Lizzy! how rich\nand how great you will be! What pin-money, what jewels, what carriages\nyou will have! Jane's is nothing to it--nothing at all. I am so\npleased--so happy. Such a charming man!--so handsome! so tall!--Oh, my\ndear Lizzy! pray apologise for my having disliked him so much before. I\nhope he will overlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town! Every thing\nthat is charming! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh,\nLord! What will become of me. I shall go distracted.\" This was enough to prove that her approbation need not be doubted: and\nElizabeth, rejoicing that such an effusion was heard only by herself,\nsoon went away. But before she had been three minutes in her own room,\nher mother followed her. \"My dearest child,\" she cried, \"I can think of nothing else! Ten\nthousand a year, and very likely more! 'Tis as good as a Lord! And a\nspecial licence. You must and shall be married by a special licence. But\nmy dearest love, tell me what dish Mr. Darcy is particularly fond of,\nthat I may have it to-morrow.\" This was a sad omen of what her mother's behaviour to the gentleman\nhimself might be; and Elizabeth found, that though in the certain\npossession of his warmest affection, and secure of her relations'\nconsent, there was still something to be wished for. But the morrow\npassed off much better than she expected; for Mrs. Bennet luckily stood\nin such awe of her intended son-in-law, that she ventured not to speak\nto him, unless it was in her power to offer him any attention, or mark\nher deference for his opinion. Elizabeth had the satisfaction of seeing her father taking pains to get\nacquainted with him; and Mr. Bennet soon assured her that he was rising\nevery hour in his esteem. \"I admire all my three sons-in-law highly,\" said he. \"Wickham, perhaps,\nis my favourite; but I think I shall like _your_ husband quite as well\nas Jane's.\" Elizabeth's spirits soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr.\nDarcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. \"How could\nyou begin?\" said she. \"I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when\nyou had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first\nplace?\" \"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which\nlaid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I\nknew that I _had_ begun.\" \"My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners--my behaviour\nto _you_ was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke\nto you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now be sincere;\ndid you admire me for my impertinence?\" \"For the liveliness of your mind, I did.\" \"You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less. The fact is, that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious\nattention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speaking\nand looking, and thinking for _your_ approbation alone. I roused, and\ninterested you, because I was so unlike _them_. Had you not been really\namiable you would have hated me for it; but in spite of the pains you\ntook to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just; and\nin your heart, you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously\ncourted you. There--I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it;\nand really, all things considered, I begin to think it perfectly\nreasonable. To be sure, you knew no actual good of me--but nobody thinks\nof _that_ when they fall in love.\" \"Was there no good in your affectionate behaviour to Jane, while she was\nill at Netherfield?\" \"Dearest Jane! who could have done less for her? But make a virtue of it\nby all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you are\nto exaggerate them as much as possible; and, in return, it belongs to me\nto find occasions for teazing and quarrelling with you as often as may\nbe; and I shall begin directly by asking you what made you so unwilling\nto come to the point at last. What made you so shy of me, when you first\ncalled, and afterwards dined here? Why, especially, when you called, did\nyou look as if you did not care about me?\" \"Because you were grave and silent, and gave me no encouragement.\" \"But I was embarrassed.\" \"And so was I.\" \"You might have talked to me more when you came to dinner.\" \"A man who had felt less, might.\" \"How unlucky that you should have a reasonable answer to give, and that\nI should be so reasonable as to admit it! But I wonder how long you\n_would_ have gone on, if you had been left to yourself. I wonder when\nyou _would_ have spoken, if I had not asked you! My resolution of\nthanking you for your kindness to Lydia had certainly great effect. _Too\nmuch_, I am afraid; for what becomes of the moral, if our comfort\nsprings from a breach of promise, for I ought not to have mentioned the\nsubject? This will never do.\" \"You need not distress yourself. The moral will be perfectly fair. Lady\nCatherine's unjustifiable endeavours to separate us, were the means of\nremoving all my doubts. I am not indebted for my present happiness to\nyour eager desire of expressing your gratitude. I was not in a humour to\nwait for any opening of your's. My aunt's intelligence had given me\nhope, and I was determined at once to know every thing.\"\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-29, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-02-01 The user is reading a book]\n<User> \"Lady Catherine has been of infinite use, which ought to make her happy,\nfor she loves to be of use. But tell me, what did you come down to\nNetherfield for? Was it merely to ride to Longbourn and be embarrassed? or had you intended any more serious consequence?\" \"My real purpose was to see _you_, and to judge, if I could, whether I\nmight ever hope to make you love me. My avowed one, or what I avowed to\nmyself, was to see whether your sister were still partial to Bingley,\nand if she were, to make the confession to him which I have since made.\" \"Shall you ever have courage to announce to Lady Catherine, what is to\nbefall her?\" \"I am more likely to want time than courage, Elizabeth. But it ought to\nbe done, and if you will give me a sheet of paper, it shall be done\ndirectly.\" \"And if I had not a letter to write myself, I might sit by you, and\nadmire the evenness of your writing, as another young lady once did. But\nI have an aunt, too, who must not be longer neglected.\" From an unwillingness to confess how much her intimacy with Mr. Darcy\nhad been over-rated, Elizabeth had never yet answered Mrs. Gardiner's\nlong letter, but now, having _that_ to communicate which she knew would\nbe most welcome, she was almost ashamed to find, that her uncle and aunt\nhad already lost three days of happiness, and immediately wrote as\nfollows:\n\n     \"I would have thanked you before, my dear aunt, as I ought to have\n     done, for your long, kind, satisfactory, detail of particulars; but\n     to say the truth, I was too cross to write. You supposed more than\n     really existed. But _now_ suppose as much as you chuse; give a\n     loose to your fancy, indulge your imagination in every possible\n     flight which the subject will afford, and unless you believe me\n     actually married, you cannot greatly err. You must write again very\n     soon, and praise him a great deal more than you did in your last. I\n     thank you, again and again, for not going to the Lakes. How could I\n     be so silly as to wish it! Your idea of the ponies is delightful. We will go round the Park every day. I am the happiest creature in\n     the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but not one\n     with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles, I\n     laugh. Mr. Darcy sends you all the love in the world, that he can\n     spare from me. You are all to come to Pemberley at Christmas. Your's, &c.\"\n\nMr. Darcy's letter to Lady Catherine, was in a different style; and\nstill different from either, was what Mr. Bennet sent to Mr. Collins, in\nreply to his last. \"DEAR SIR,\n\n     \"I must trouble you once more for congratulations. Elizabeth will\n     soon be the wife of Mr. Darcy. Console Lady Catherine as well as\n     you can. But, if I were you, I would stand by the nephew. He has\n     more to give. \"Your's sincerely, &c.\"\n\nMiss Bingley's congratulations to her brother, on his approaching\nmarriage, were all that was affectionate and insincere. She wrote even\nto Jane on the occasion, to express her delight, and repeat all her\nformer professions of regard. Jane was not deceived, but she was\naffected; and though feeling no reliance on her, could not help writing\nher a much kinder answer than she knew was deserved. The joy which Miss Darcy expressed on receiving similar information, was\nas sincere as her brother's in sending it. Four sides of paper were\ninsufficient to contain all her delight, and all her earnest desire of\nbeing loved by her sister. Before any answer could arrive from Mr. Collins, or any congratulations\nto Elizabeth, from his wife, the Longbourn family heard that the\nCollinses were come themselves to Lucas lodge. The reason of this sudden\nremoval was soon evident. Lady Catherine had been rendered so\nexceedingly angry by the contents of her nephew's letter, that\nCharlotte, really rejoicing in the match, was anxious to get away till\nthe storm was blown over. At such a moment, the arrival of her friend\nwas a sincere pleasure to Elizabeth, though in the course of their\nmeetings she must sometimes think the pleasure dearly bought, when she\nsaw Mr. Darcy exposed to all the parading and obsequious civility of her\nhusband. He bore it however with admirable calmness. He could even\nlisten to Sir William Lucas, when he complimented him on carrying away\nthe brightest jewel of the country, and expressed his hopes of their all\nmeeting frequently at St. James's, with very decent composure. If he did\nshrug his shoulders, it was not till Sir William was out of sight. Mrs. Philips's vulgarity was another, and perhaps a greater tax on his\nforbearance; and though Mrs. Philips, as well as her sister, stood in\ntoo much awe of him to speak with the familiarity which Bingley's good\nhumour encouraged, yet, whenever she _did_ speak, she must be vulgar. Nor was her respect for him, though it made her more quiet, at all\nlikely to make her more elegant. Elizabeth did all she could, to shield\nhim from the frequent notice of either, and was ever anxious to keep him\nto herself, and to those of her family with whom he might converse\nwithout mortification; and though the uncomfortable feelings arising\nfrom all this took from the season of courtship much of its pleasure, it\nadded to the hope of the future; and she looked forward with delight to\nthe time when they should be removed from society so little pleasing to\neither, to all the comfort and elegance of their family party at\nPemberley.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-02-01, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far."]
[{"question": "Summarize the content of the book I read from 2024-01-01 to 2024-02-01", "answer": "Elizabeth Bennet, Mr. Darcy, Jane Bennet, Mr. Bingley, Lydia Bennet, Mr. Wickham, Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Bennet, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Mrs. Gardiner, Mr. Collins, Miss Darcy, Kitty Bennet, Mary Bennet, Longbourn, Netherfield, Pemberley, London, army commission, Wickham's debts, Darcy's proposal, Bingley's proposal, Lydia's wedding, Lady Catherine's confrontation, Elizabeth's refusal, Gardiners' intervention, marriage, family reputation, social class, scandal, love, forgiveness, character growth, three daughters married, 10, 000 a year, Mrs. Bennet's transformation, Jane and Bingley move, Kitty's improvement, Wickham and Lydia's spending, Elizabeth and Miss Darcy friendship, Gardiners' friendship, Lady Catherine unreconciled"}]