During dinner, Mr. Bennet did not speak at all; but when the servants were gone, he thought to start a conversation with his guest. He mentioned Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Mr. Bennet could not have chosen better. Mr. Collins was eloquent in her praise. She had asked him twice to dine together, and had sent for him only the Saturday before, to make up her pool of quadrille in the evening. Lady Catherine was reckoned proud by many people he knew, but he had never seen anything but affability in her. She had always spoken to him as she would to any other gentleman. She had even advised him to marry as soon as he could; and had once paid him a visit in his humble house.

      “That is all very proper and civil, I am sure,” said Mrs. Bennet, “and I dare say she is a very agreeable woman. It is a pity that great ladies in general are not more like her. Does she live near you, sir?”

      “The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane from Rosings Park, her ladyship’s residence.”

      “I think you said she was a widow, sir? Has she any family?”

      “She has only one daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of very extensive property.”

      “Ah!” said Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head, “then she is happier than many girls. And what sort of young lady is she? Is she handsome?”

      “She is a most charming young lady indeed. Lady Catherine herself says that Miss de Bourgh is very beautiful. But she is unfortunately of a sickly constitution.”

      Mr. Bennet’s expectations were fully answered. His cousin was as stupid as he had hoped, and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment.

      By teatime Mr. Bennet was glad to take his guest into the drawing-room, and, when tea was over, glad to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Mr. Collins readily agreed, and a book was brought; but when he saw it, begging pardon, he protested. He said that he never read novels. Kitty stared at him, and Lydia exclaimed. Other books were brought, and he chose Fordyce’s Sermons. Lydia gaped as he opened the volume, and before he had, with very monotonous solemnity, read three pages, she interrupted him with:

      “Do you know, mamma, that my uncle Phillips talks of Richard? I shall walk to Meryton to-morrow to hear more about it.”

      Mr. Collins, much offended, laid aside his book, and said:

      “I have often observed how little young ladies are interested by books of serious topics, though written for their benefit. It amazes me. But I will no longer importune my young cousin.”

      Then turning to Mr. Bennet, he offered himself as his antagonist at backgammon. Mrs. Bennet and her daughters apologised most civilly for Lydia’s interruption, and promised that it should not occur again, if he would resume his book. But Mr. Collins seated himself at another table with Mr. Bennet, and prepared for backgammon.

      Chapter 15

      Mr. Collins was not a sensible man. The greatest part of his life he spent under the guidance of an illiterate and miserly father. A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de Bourgh. And the respect which he felt for her high rank, and his veneration for her as his patroness, made him altogether a mixture of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility.

      Having now a good house and a very sufficient income, he intended to marry. So he meant to choose one of the daughters, if he found them as handsome and amiable. This was his plan for inheriting their father’s estate; and he thought it an excellent one.

      His plan did not vary. Miss Bennet’s lovely face confirmed his views. The next morning, however, he was interested in Jane very much. But Mrs. Bennet said that Jane was likely to be very soon engaged.

      Mr. Collins had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth – and it was soon done.

      Lydia’s intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten; every sister except Mary agreed to go with her; and Mr. Collins was to attend them, at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most anxious to get rid of him.

      Time passed till they entered Meryton. The eyes of the younger girls were wandering up in the street in quest of the officers.

      The attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking with another officer on the other side of the way. The officer was Mr. Denny. Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from town. His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, and a good figure. Suddenly they heard the sound of horses, and they saw Darcy and Bingley riding down the street. The two gentlemen came directly towards the girls. Mr. Darcy noticed the stranger, and Elizabeth was wondered as both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat. What could be the meaning of it? It was impossible to imagine.

      In another minute, Mr. Bingley rode on with his friend.

      Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young ladies to the door of Mr. Phillip’s house, and then made their bows.

      Chapter 16

      The next day Elizabeth decided to ask Mr. Wickham about Mr. Darcy. They were at Mr. Phillip’s house. Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and with ready delight was he received at the other table between Elizabeth and Lydia. Elizabeth was very willing to hear the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. Her curiosity was unexpectedly relieved. Mr. Wickham began the story. He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked in a hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there.

      “About a month,” said Elizabeth; and then added, “He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I believe.”

      “Yes,” replied Mr. Wickham; “his estate there is a noble one. I have been connected with his family from my infancy.”

      Elizabeth was very surprised.

      “You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, after seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting yesterday. Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?”

      “As much as I ever wish to be,” cried Elizabeth very warmly. “I have spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him very disagreeable.”

      “I have no right to give my opinion,” said Wickham, “I have known him too long and too well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for me to be impartial. Here you are in your own family.”

      “Upon my word, he is not at all liked in Hertfordshire. Everybody is disgusted with his pride.”

      “The world is blinded by his money, or frightened by his high and imposing manners,” Wickham shook his head. “We are not friends, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for avoiding. His father, Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that I ever met, and the truest friend I ever had. But his son disappointed the hopes and disgraced the memory of his father.”

      Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and listened with all her heart.

      “I am a disappointed man. I must have employment and society. A military life is not what I was intended for. The church ought to have been my profession – I was brought up for the church.”

      “Indeed!”

      “Yes – old Mr. Darcy wanted to give me the best living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. But the living was given to somebody else.”

      “Good heavens!” cried Elizabeth; “but

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