Chapter 59

“Y dear Lizzy, where can you have been walking to?” was a question which Elizabeth received from Jane as soon as she entered the room, and from all the others when they sat down to table. She had only to say in reply, that they had wandered about till she was beyond her own knowledge. She coloured as she spoke; but neither that, nor anything else, awakened a suspicion of the truth.

“My dear Lizzy, where have you been walking?” Jane asked Elizabeth as soon as she entered the room. All the others asked the same question when they sat down to eat. Elizabeth only had to say that they had wandered until she no longer knew where she was. She blushed as she spoke, but neither her blush nor anything else made anyone suspect the truth.

The evening passed quietly, unmarked by anything extraordinary. The acknowledged lovers talked and laughed; the unacknowledged were silent. Darcy was not of a disposition in which happiness overflows in mirth; and Elizabeth, agitated and confused, rather knew that she was happy than felt herself to be so; for, besides the immediate embarrassment, there were other evils before her. She anticipated what would be felt in the family when her situation became known: she was aware that no one liked him but Jane; and even feared that with the others it was a dislike which not all his fortune and consequence might do away.

The evening passed quietly, with nothing unusual happening. The openly acknowledged lovers talked and laughed. Those whose love was still secret were silent. Darcy was not someone whose happiness spilled over into laughter. Elizabeth, anxious and confused, knew she was happy rather than felt happy. For besides her immediate embarrassment, she had other troubles to face. She imagined how her family would feel when they learned of her engagement. She knew that no one but Jane liked him. She even feared the others felt a dislike that all his wealth and status might not overcome.

At night she opened her heart to Jane. Though suspicion was very far from Miss Bennet’s general habits, she was absolutely incredulous here.

That night she shared her feelings with Jane. Although Miss Bennet was not usually suspicious, she simply could not believe what she heard.

“You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be! Engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no, you shall not deceive me: I know it to be impossible.”

“You’re joking, Lizzy. You can’t be engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no, you won’t fool me. I know it’s impossible.”

“This is a wretched beginning, indeed! My sole dependence was on you; and I am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I am in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we are engaged.”

“What a terrible start! You were the only person I was counting on. And I’m sure nobody else will believe me if you don’t. But I really am serious. I’m telling nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we’re engaged.”

Jane looked at her doubtingly. “Oh, Lizzy! it cannot be. I know how much you dislike him.”

Jane looked at her doubtfully. “Oh, Lizzy! It can’t be true. I know how much you dislike him.”

“You know nothing of the matter. That is all to be forgot. Perhaps I did not always love him so well as I do now; but in such cases as these a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever remember it myself.”

“You know nothing about it. That must all be forgotten. Perhaps I didn’t always love him as much as I do now. But in cases like these, a good memory is unforgivable. This is the last time I’ll ever remember it myself.”

Miss Bennet still looked all amazement. Elizabeth again, and more seriously, assured her of its truth.

Miss Bennet still looked completely amazed. Elizabeth assured her again, more seriously this time, that it was true.

“Good heaven! can it be really so? Yet now I must believe you,” cried Jane. “My dear, dear Lizzy, I would, I do congratulate you; but are you certain—forgive the question—are you quite certain that you can be happy with him?”

“Good heavens! Can it really be true? But now I have to believe you,” Jane cried. “My dear, dear Lizzy, I want to congratulate you, and I do. But are you sure? Forgive me for asking. Are you completely sure you can be happy with him?”

“There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already that we are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased, Jane? Shall you like to have such a brother?”

“There’s no doubt about that. We’ve already agreed that we’re going to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you happy, Jane? Will you like having a brother like him?”

“Very, very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more delight. But we considered it, we talked of it as impossible. And do you really love him quite well enough? Oh, Lizzy! do anything rather than marry without affection. Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought to do?”

“Very, very much. Nothing could make either Bingley or me happier. But we thought about it and talked about it as something impossible. And do you really love him enough? Oh, Lizzy! Do anything rather than marry someone you don’t love. Are you quite sure you feel the way you should?”

“Oh, yes! You will only think I feel more than I ought to do when I tell you all.”

“Oh, yes! You’ll only think I feel more than I should when I tell you everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, I must confess that I love him better than I do Bingley. I am afraid you will be angry.”

“Well, I must admit I love him more than I love Bingley. I’m afraid you’ll be angry.”

“My dearest sister, now be, be serious. I want to talk very seriously. Let me know everything that I am to know without delay. Will you tell me how long you have loved him?”

“My dearest sister, please be, be serious. I want to talk very seriously. Tell me everything I need to know right away. Will you tell me 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 at Pemberley.”

“It has happened so gradually that I hardly know when it began. But I think it must have started when I first saw his beautiful grounds at Pemberley.”

Another entreaty that she would be serious, however, produced the desired effect; and she soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances of attachment. When convinced on that article, Miss Bennet had nothing further to wish.

However, another plea for her to be serious had the desired effect. She soon convinced Jane with her earnest assurances of love. Once convinced of her feelings, Miss Bennet had nothing more to wish for.

“Now I am quite happy,” said she, “for you will be as happy as myself. I always had a value for him. Were it for nothing but his love of you, I must always have esteemed him; but now, as Bingley’s friend and your husband, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. But, Lizzy, you have been very sly, very reserved with me. How little did you tell me of what passed at Pemberley and Lambton! I owe all that I know of it to another, not to you.”

“Now I am completely happy,” she said, “because you will be as happy as I am. I have always thought highly of him. Even if only for his love for you, I would always have respected him. But now, as Bingley’s friend and your husband, only Bingley and you can be dearer to me. But, Lizzy, you have been very secretive and kept so much from me. You told me so little about what happened at Pemberley and Lambton! Everything I know about those events came from someone else, not you.”

Elizabeth told her the motives of her secrecy. She had been unwilling to mention Bingley; and the unsettled state of her own feelings had made her equally avoid the name of his friend: but now she would no longer conceal from her his share in Lydia’s marriage. All was acknowledged, and half the night spent in conversation.

Elizabeth explained to her why she had kept quiet. She had been unwilling to mention Bingley. And her uncertainty about her own feelings had also made her avoid mentioning his friend. But now she would no longer hide from her the part Bingley’s friend had played in Lydia’s marriage. Elizabeth told her everything, and they spent half the night talking.

“Good gracious!” cried Mrs. Bennet, as she stood at a window the next morning, “if that disagreeable Mr. Darcy is not coming here again with our dear Bingley! What can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always coming here? I had no notion but he would go a-shooting, or something or other, 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 way.”

“Good gracious!” cried Mrs. Bennet, standing at a window the next morning. “Here comes that disagreeable Mr. Darcy again with our dear Bingley! Why must he be so tiresome, always coming here? I thought he would go shooting or something and not bother us with his company. What shall we do with him? Lizzy, you must go for a walk with him again so that he won’t be in Bingley’s way.”

Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at so convenient a proposal; yet was really vexed that her mother should be always giving him such an epithet.

Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at such a convenient suggestion. But she was genuinely annoyed that her mother was always calling him that.

As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at her so expressively, and shook hands with such warmth, as left no doubt of his good information; and he soon afterwards said aloud, “Mrs. Bennet, have you no more lanes hereabouts in which Lizzy may lose her way again to-day?”

As soon as they entered, Bingley gave her a meaningful look and shook her hand warmly. His manner left no doubt that he had been well informed. Soon afterward, he said aloud, “Mrs. Bennet, are there no more lanes nearby where Lizzy may lose her way again today?”

“I advise Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty,” said Mrs. Bennet, “to walk to Oakham Mount this morning. It is a nice long walk, and Mr. Darcy has never seen the view.”

“I suggest that Mr. Darcy, Lizzy, and Kitty walk to Oakham Mount this morning,” said Mrs. Bennet. “It’s a nice long walk, and Mr. Darcy has never seen the view.”

“It may do very well for the others,” replied Mr. Bingley; “but I am sure it will be too much for Kitty. Won’t it, Kitty?”

“It may be fine for the others,” Mr. Bingley replied. “But I’m sure it will be too much for Kitty. Won’t it, Kitty?”

Kitty owned that she had rather stay at home. Darcy professed a great curiosity to see the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently consented. As she went upstairs to get ready, Mrs. Bennet followed her, saying,—

Kitty admitted that she would rather stay at home. Darcy said he was very curious to see the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently agreed. As Elizabeth went upstairs to get ready, Mrs. Bennet followed her, saying:

“I am quite sorry, Lizzy, that you should be forced to have that disagreeable man all to yourself; but I hope you will not mind it. It is all for Jane’s sake, you know; and there is no occasion for talking to him except just now and then; so do not put yourself to inconvenience.”

“I’m very sorry, Lizzy, that you’re forced to have that unpleasant man all to yourself. But I hope you won’t mind his company. It’s all for Jane’s sake, you know. And you only need to talk to him now and then, so don’t put yourself out.”

During their walk, it was resolved that Mr. Bennet’s consent should be asked in the course of the evening: Elizabeth reserved to herself the application for her mother’s. She could not determine how her mother would take it; sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeur would be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man; but whether she were violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it, it was certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit to her sense; and she could no more bear that Mr. Darcy should hear the first raptures of her joy, than the first vehemence of her disapprobation.

During their walk, they agreed that Mr. Bennet should be asked for his consent that evening. Elizabeth would ask her mother herself. She could not decide how her mother would react. Sometimes she doubted whether all his wealth and status would be enough to overcome her mother’s hatred of him. But whether her mother fiercely opposed the marriage or was wildly delighted, her reaction would hardly show good sense. Elizabeth could no more bear Mr. Darcy hearing her mother’s first outbursts of joy than her first furious objections.

In the evening, soon after Mr. Bennet withdrew to the library, she saw Mr. Darcy rise also and follow him, and her agitation on seeing it was extreme. She did not fear her father’s opposition, but he was going to be made unhappy, and that it should be through her means; that she, his favourite child, should be distressing him by her choice, should be filling him with fears and regrets in disposing of her, was a wretched reflection, and she sat in misery till Mr. Darcy appeared again, when, looking at him, she was a little relieved by his smile. In a few minutes he approached the table where she was sitting with Kitty; and, while pretending to admire her work, said in a whisper, “Go to your father; he wants you in the library.” She was gone directly.

That evening, soon after Mr. Bennet went to the library, she saw Mr. Darcy get up and follow him. The sight made her extremely anxious. She did not fear her father would object, but he was about to be made unhappy, and because of her. It was painful to think that she, his favourite child, should distress him by her choice. Her marriage would fill him with fears and regrets. She sat in misery until Mr. Darcy returned, when his smile brought her a little relief. A few minutes later, he approached the table where she was sitting with Kitty. Pretending to admire her work, he whispered, “Go to your father. He wants you in the library.” She went at once.

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 accepting this man? Have not you always hated him?”

Her father was walking around the room, looking serious and worried. “Lizzy,” he said, “what are you doing? Are you out of your mind to accept this man? Haven’t you always hated him?”

How earnestly did she then wish that her former opinions had been more reasonable, her expressions more moderate! It would have spared her from explanations and professions which it was exceedingly awkward to give; but they were now necessary, and she assured him, with some confusion, of her attachment to Mr. Darcy.

How deeply she now wished her earlier opinions had been more reasonable and her words more restrained! She would have been spared the explanations and declarations of affection that felt so terribly awkward to make. But those explanations and declarations were now necessary. With some embarrassment, she assured him of her affection for Mr. Darcy.

“Or, in other words, you are determined to have him. He is rich, to be sure, and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than Jane. But will they make you happy?”

“Or, in other words, you’re determined to marry him. He’s rich, of course, and you may have more fancy clothes and carriages than Jane. But will those things make you happy?”

“Have you any other objection,” said Elizabeth, “than your belief of my indifference?”

“Do you have any other objection,” Elizabeth asked, “besides believing that I don’t care?”

“None at all. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; but this would be nothing if you really liked him.”

“None at all. We all know he’s a proud, unpleasant man. But his pride and unpleasantness wouldn’t matter 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 know what he really is; then pray do not pain me by speaking of him in such terms.”

“I do, I do like him,” she replied, with tears in her eyes. “I love him. He really isn’t proud in any improper way. He is thoroughly kind and pleasant. You don’t know what he’s really like, so please don’t hurt me by speaking about him like that.”

“Lizzy,” said her father, “I have given him my consent. He is the kind of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse anything, which he condescended to ask. I now give it to you, if you are resolved on having him. But let me advise you to think better of it. I know your disposition, Lizzy. I know that you could be neither happy nor respectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband, unless you looked up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage. You could scarcely escape discredit and misery. My child, let me not have the grief of seeing you unable to respect your partner in life. You know not what you are about.”

“Lizzy,” said her father, “I have given him my consent. Indeed, he is the kind of man I would never dare refuse anything he lowered himself to ask for. I now give my consent to you, if you are determined to marry him. But let me advise you to reconsider. I know your nature, Lizzy. I know you could be neither happy nor respectable unless you truly respected your husband. You would have to look up to him as someone superior to you. Your quick wit and lively mind would put you in great danger in an unequal marriage. You could hardly escape disgrace and misery. My child, do not cause me the grief of seeing you unable to respect your partner in life. You do not know what you are doing.”

Elizabeth, still more affected, was earnest and solemn in her reply; and, at length, by repeated assurances that Mr. Darcy was really the object of her choice, by explaining the gradual change which her estimation of him had undergone, relating her absolute certainty that his affection was not the work of a day, but had stood the test of many months’ suspense, and enumerating with energy all his good qualities, she did conquer her father’s incredulity, and reconcile him to the match.

Elizabeth, even more deeply moved, answered earnestly and seriously. She repeatedly assured her father that Mr. Darcy really was the man she had chosen. She explained how her opinion of him had gradually changed. She was absolutely certain his love had not developed in a single day. As she explained, his love had endured many months of uncertainty. She also enthusiastically listed all his good qualities. Through these efforts, she finally overcame her father’s disbelief and won his acceptance of the marriage.

“Well, my dear,” said he, when she ceased speaking, “I have no more to say. If this be the case, he deserves you. I could not have parted with you, my Lizzy, to anyone less worthy.”

“Well, my dear,” he said when she finished speaking, “I have nothing more to say. If that’s the case, he deserves you. I couldn’t have let you go, my Lizzy, to anyone less worthy.”

To complete the favourable impression, she then told him what Mr. Darcy had voluntarily done for Lydia. He heard her with astonishment.

To complete the good impression, she then told him what Mr. Darcy had willingly done for Lydia. He was astonished by what he heard.

“This is an evening of wonders, indeed! And so, Darcy did everything; made up the match, gave the money, paid the fellow’s debts, and got him his commission! So much the better. It will save me a world of trouble and economy. Had it been your uncle’s doing, I must and would have paid him; but these violent young lovers carry everything their own way. I shall offer to pay him to-morrow, he will rant and storm about his love for you, and there will be an end of the matter.”

“What an evening of surprises! So Darcy did everything. He arranged the marriage, provided the money, paid the fellow’s debts, and secured his army commission! All the better. Darcy’s help will save me a world of trouble and penny-pinching. If your uncle had done it, I would have had to repay him, and I would have. But these passionate young lovers always have their own way. I’ll offer to repay Darcy tomorrow. He’ll rant and rave about his love for you, and that will be the end of the matter.”

He then recollected her embarrassment a few days before on his reading Mr. Collins’s letter; and after laughing at her some time, allowed her at last to go, saying, as she quitted the room, “If any young men come for Mary or Kitty, send them in, for I am quite at leisure.”

He then remembered her embarrassment a few days earlier when he read Mr. Collins’s letter. After laughing at her for a while, he finally let her go. As she left the room, he said, “If any young men come for Mary or Kitty, send them in. I have plenty of free time.”

Elizabeth’s mind was now relieved from a very heavy weight; and, after half an hour’s quiet reflection in her own room, she was able to join the others with tolerable composure. Everything was too recent for gaiety, but the evening passed tranquilly away; there was no longer anything material to be dreaded, and the comfort of ease and familiarity would come in time.

A heavy weight had now lifted from Elizabeth’s mind. After half an hour of quiet reflection in her own room, she could join the others feeling reasonably composed. Everything was too recent for her to feel cheerful, but the evening passed peacefully. There was no longer anything important to fear, and the comfort of feeling relaxed and familiar would come with time.

When her mother went up to her dressing-room at night, she followed her, and made the important communication. Its effect was most extraordinary; for, on first hearing it, Mrs. Bennet sat quite still, and unable to utter a syllable. Nor was it under many, many minutes, that she could comprehend what she heard, though not in general backward to credit what was for the advantage of her family, or that came in the shape of a lover to any of them. She began at length to recover, to fidget about in her chair, get up, sit down again, wonder, and bless herself.

When her mother went upstairs to her dressing room that night, she followed her and shared the important news. The effect was extraordinary. At first, Mrs. Bennet sat completely still, unable to say a word. Many, many minutes passed before she could take in what she had heard. Usually, though, she readily believed any news that benefited her family or involved a suitor for any of her daughters. At last she began to recover, fidgeting in her chair, standing up, sitting down again, marveling, and blessing herself.

“Good gracious! Lord bless me! only think! dear me! Mr. Darcy! Who would have thought it? And is it really true? Oh, my sweetest Lizzy! how rich and how great you will be! What pin-money, what jewels, what carriages you will have! Jane’s is nothing to it—nothing at all. I am so pleased—so happy. Such a charming man! so handsome! so tall! Oh, my dear Lizzy! pray apologize for my having disliked him so much before. I hope he will overlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town! Everything that is charming! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh, Lord! what will become of me? I shall go distracted.”

“Good heavens! Lord bless me! Just imagine! Oh my! Mr. Darcy! Who would have thought it? And is it really true? Oh, my sweetest Lizzy! How rich and important you will be! Think of your spending money, your jewels, your carriages! Jane will have nothing compared to you, nothing at all. I am so pleased, so happy. Such a charming man! So handsome! So tall! Oh, my dear Lizzy! Please apologize for how much I disliked him before. I hope he will forgive me. Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town! Everything you could wish for! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh, Lord! What will become of me? I shall go out of my mind.”

This was enough to prove that her approbation need not be doubted; and Elizabeth, rejoicing that such an effusion was heard only by herself, soon went away. But before she had been three minutes in her own room, her mother followed her.

This was enough to leave no doubt about her approval. Elizabeth was glad she alone had heard such an outpouring of feeling, and she soon left. But she had been in her own room for less than three minutes when her mother followed her.

“My dearest child,” she cried, “I can think of nothing else. Ten thousand a year, and very likely more! ’Tis as good as a lord! And a special licence—you must and shall be married by a special licence. But, my dearest love, tell me what dish Mr. Darcy is particularly fond of, that I may have it to-morrow.”

“My dearest child,” she cried, “I can think of nothing else. Ten thousand a year, and very likely more! That’s as good as being a lord! And a special licence! You must and will be married with a special licence. But, my dearest love, tell me what dish Mr. Darcy especially likes, so I can serve it tomorrow.”

This was a sad omen of what her mother’s behaviour to the gentleman himself might be; and Elizabeth found that, though in the certain possession of his warmest affection, and secure of her relations’ consent, there was still something to be wished for. But the morrow passed off much better than she expected; for Mrs. Bennet luckily stood in such awe of her intended son-in-law, that she ventured not to speak to him, unless it was in her power to offer him any attention, or mark her deference for his opinion.

This was a bad sign of how her mother might behave toward the gentleman himself. Elizabeth knew she had his deepest affection and could count on her relatives’ consent. Yet she found there was still something left to wish for. But the next day went much better than she expected. Luckily, Mrs. Bennet was so in awe of her future son-in-law that she hardly dared speak to him. She spoke only when she could offer him some courtesy or show respect for his opinion.

Elizabeth had the satisfaction of seeing her father taking pains to get acquainted with him; and Mr. Bennet soon assured her that he was rising every hour in his esteem.

Elizabeth was pleased to see her father making an effort to get to know him. And Mr. Bennet soon assured her that his respect for him was growing by the hour.

“I admire all my three sons-in-law highly,” said he. “Wickham, perhaps, is my favourite; but I think I shall like your husband quite as well as Jane’s.”

“I admire all three of my sons-in-law very much,” he said. “Wickham is perhaps my favourite. But I think I’ll like your husband just as much as Jane’s.”