[Mr. Collinshastily gives the hoe to the maid and then goes out. He instantly returns, however, and again appeals in distressed tones to his wife.]
[Mr. Collinshastily gives the hoe to the maid and then goes out. He instantly returns, however, and again appeals in distressed tones to his wife.]
Mr. Collins.
[Holding out the basket.] And these radishes, my dear?
Charlotte.
Martha, take the radishes from Mr. Collins.
Martha.
Yes, ma'am.
[The maid tries to hold at once—basket, hoe, hat, and gloves, as she stands in a corner, open-mouthed.]
[The maid tries to hold at once—basket, hoe, hat, and gloves, as she stands in a corner, open-mouthed.]
Mr. Collins.
[Again emerging from the door.] Do not make yourself uneasy about your own apparel, Miss Elizabeth; Lady Catherine is far from requiring that elegance in us which becomes herself and daughter—I——
Charlotte.
[Impatiently.] Oh, do go, Mr. Collins! Lady Catherine will be here in an instant!
[She shuts the door onMr. Collins.]
Elizabeth.
[Greatly amused at all this excitement.] Are you going to make any change in your dress, Charlotte? Do you wish me to do so?
Charlotte.
Well, Eliza, if you wouldn't mind, I should like you to put on your sprigged muslin. In spite of what Mr. Collins says, I know it would please him. I have no time to change. Is my cap straight? Oh, here she is. [To the maid, who stands staring, with her arms full.] Why, Martha! Are you still there? Go! Go! [She bustles the maid out of one door, then runs to the other, calling her husband.] Mr. Collins! Mr. Collins!
[She then rushes into the garden, followed immediately byMr. Collinsin the same state of excitement.Elizabeth,as she looks after them, is convulsed with laughter.]
[She then rushes into the garden, followed immediately byMr. Collinsin the same state of excitement.Elizabeth,as she looks after them, is convulsed with laughter.]
Elizabeth.
So, at last—her high and only mightiness! No tremors, Elizabeth! Now is the time for all your courage. [She runs laughing out of the room.]
[Sounds of voices are heard, andLady Catherineappears escorted up the path byCharlotteandCollins.]
[Sounds of voices are heard, andLady Catherineappears escorted up the path byCharlotteandCollins.]
Lady Catherine.
[As she reaches the door.] You keep too many hens, Mrs. Collins. There is just a certain number which are profitable—beyond that there is waste. [Lady Catherinesits on the sofa.] A clergyman's wife should set an example of thrift. You should have asked my advice.
Mr. Collins.
Mrs. Collins will in the future regulate her poultry-yard according to your directions, Lady Catherine, if you will be so condescending as to give them.
Charlotte.
Yes, thank you, Lady Catherine.
Mr. Collins.
Will your Ladyship not take some refreshment?
Charlotte.
Oh, yes—let me fetch you a cup of tea?
Lady Catherine.
No, no—I wish nothing. [ToMr. Collins.] But you may go, Mr. Collins, and see if Jones is walking the horses up and down. I do not trust Jones.
Mr. Collins.
With great pleasure, your Ladyship. [Mr. Collinsgoes out.]
Lady Catherine.
[ToCharlotte.] I thought you had a visitor, Mrs. Collins.
Charlotte.
Yes, your Ladyship—I have. It is my friend, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She is a cousin of Mr. Collins and a neighbour of ours in Hertfordshire.
Lady Catherine.
I have heard about her. Fitzwilliam says she is a very genteel, pretty kind of girl.
Charlotte.
[Pleased.] Indeed she is, Lady Catherine.
Lady Catherine.
Well, where is she?
Charlotte.
She has gone to make a little change in her dress, before presenting herself to your Ladyship.
Lady Catherine.
Oh! very proper—very proper!
Charlotte.
I am delighted to hear that Miss de Bourg is better, Lady Catherine.
Lady Catherine.
Yes, thank you. She is very greatly improved. [After a slight pause, with impatience.] Well, Miss Bennet takes her time!
Charlotte.
[Anxiously.] I am sure she will be here in a moment. [Elizabethenters.] Oh, here she is. [PresentingElizabeth.] Lady Catherine, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. [Elizabethcurtsies.]
Lady Catherine.
[Without leaving her seat, looksElizabethover from head to foot.] Oh, how do you do, Miss Bennet. You are younger than I thought!
Elizabeth.
[Smiling.] Indeed?
Lady Catherine.
You know my nephew, Mr. Darcy?
Elizabeth.
Yes, I met him in Hertfordshire.
Lady Catherine.
Humph! And you know Colonel Fitzwilliam?
Elizabeth.
I have only met Colonel Fitzwilliam since coming here.
Lady Catherine.
Humph! Has your governess left you?
Elizabeth.
[Half laughs.] My sisters and I have never had a governess, Madam.
Lady Catherine.
No governess! I never heard of such a thing! Your mother must have been quite a slave to your education.
Elizabeth.
[Smiling.] I assure you she was not, Lady Catherine.
Lady Catherine.
Then who taught you? Without a governess you must have been neglected.
Elizabeth.
Such of us as wished to learn, never wanted the means, Madam.
Lady Catherine.
Well, if I had known your mother, I should have advisedher most strenuously to engage a governess. I should have seen to it myself. [ToCharlotte.] Go on with your work, Mrs. Collins. A clergyman's wife should set an example of industry. [Looking atCharlotte'sembroidery with disapproval.] I will send you some more of the parish petticoats to hem, Mrs. Collins. [ToElizabeth.] Go on with your work, Miss Bennet. Young ladies should never be idle. [BothElizabethandCharlottego on with their embroidery. Looking hard atElizabeth.] Pray what is your age, Miss Bennet?
Elizabeth.
I am not one and twenty.
Lady Catherine.
You have sisters, have not you?
Elizabeth.
Yes, Madam.
Lady Catherine.
Are any of them out?
Elizabeth.
All, Madam.
Lady Catherine.
What! All out at once? Very odd! Out before the oldest is married!
Elizabeth.
Really, Madam, I think it would be very hard on the younger sisters not to have their share of society because the eldest one does not happen to be married. That would hardly be likely to promote sisterly affection, or delicacy of mind.
Lady Catherine.
Upon my word, you give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person! Your sisters may be married before you. You must not be too ambitious. A good many young girls have lost their chances through being too ambitious. [Looking at a large picture on the wall and then pointing to it.] Mrs. Collins, I suppose you have shown Miss Bennet this print of Pemberley—Mr. Darcy's place?
Charlotte.
Yes, Lady Catherine.
Lady Catherine.
[Complacently.] Pemberley is one of the finest places in England. My daughter Anne is very fond of it, which is fortunate, since she will probably spend the most of her life there.
Charlotte.
Most fortunate, your Ladyship.
Lady Catherine.
[ToElizabeth.] You see my nephews here often, Miss Bennet?
Elizabeth.
[Mischievously.] Yes,veryoften, Lady Catherine.
Lady Catherine.
Humph! Well, idle young gentlemen often make very foolish use of their time. My daughter, Miss de Bourg, is unfortunately not able to accompany Mr. Darcy in his walks as often as both of them could desire.
Mr. Collins.
[Entering.] I think your Ladyship's mind may be quite at rest about the horses. Jones seems to have them well in hand.
Lady Catherine.
Oh, I am glad you have come back, Mr. Collins. I am going to ask you and Mrs. Collins to go and see the new cottages with me. I shall take you in the carriage. [ToCharlotte.] You had better put on a plain bonnet, Mrs. Collins.
Charlotte.
By all means, your Ladyship. [She goes out.]
Lady Catherine.
Are you quite ready to go, Mr. Collins?
Mr. Collins.
Oh—assuredly, your Ladyship—quite!
Lady Catherine.
[ToElizabeth.] Miss Bennet, I should advise you towrite to your family while we are gone. [Charlottereturns in her bonnet and mantle.Lady Catherinelooks her over.] Yes, that will do very well!
Charlotte.
[ToElizabeth.] We shall not be gone very long, Eliza.
Lady Catherine.
I am not sure of that, Mrs. Collins, but I have provided an occupation for Miss Bennet during our absence. Good morning, Miss Bennet. I may ask you later for dinner.
Elizabeth.
[Curtsying.] Good morning, Madam. [All go out,Mr. Collinsshowing servile attentions toLady Catherine.Elizabethwatches them from the door.] Really! I might have spared myself some of the mortifications I have felt for the shortcomings of my own family. The contrast is not such a violent one after all. [Looking at the writing desk.] However, Lady Catherine can give good advice. I really ought to write to my poor, dear Jane.
[She seats herself at the writing table—gets out her paper, etc. and begins her letter when the door-bell sounds.Elizabethstarts and is putting away the writing materials, when the maid ushers inMr. Darcy,who seems much excited.]
[She seats herself at the writing table—gets out her paper, etc. and begins her letter when the door-bell sounds.Elizabethstarts and is putting away the writing materials, when the maid ushers inMr. Darcy,who seems much excited.]
Darcy.
I am here again, Miss Bennet. I saw Mr. and Mrs.Collins drive away with my aunt. I have something which Imustsay to you. [He walks excitedly up and down for a moment, whileElizabethwatches him in amazed silence. Then he suddenly goes up to her and begins to speak in an agitated manner.] Miss Bennet—in vain have I struggled! It will not do! My feelings will not be repressed! You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you!
Elizabeth.
[Is perfectly astounded. She stares, colours, doubts, and is silent.]
Darcy.
[Taking her silence for encouragement.] Miss Bennet, I can well understand your own astonishment at this declaration, for I am amazed at myself! My feeling for you has taken possession of me against my will, my reason, and almost against my character!
Elizabeth.
[Starting in indignation.] Sir!
Darcy.
Oh, understand me, I beg of you! For yourself alone my admiration is only too natural. I share it with everyone who has the happiness of knowing you. But—pardon me—for it pains me to offend you—the defects of your nearest relations, the total lack of propriety so frequently betrayed by your family, has so opposed my judgment tomy inclination, that it has required the utmost force of passion on my part to put them aside. But, my dear Miss Bennet, your triumph is complete. Your own loveliness stands out the fairer in its contrast to your surroundings, and I now hope that the strength of my love may have its reward in your acceptance of my hand.
Elizabeth.
[Who has gone through all sorts of emotions during this speech, speaks, in a constrained manner as if trying to control herself.] Mr. Darcy—in such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. If I could feel gratitude I would now thank you. But I cannot. I have never desired your good opinion, andyouhave certainly bestowed it most unwillingly.
Darcy.
[Leaning against the mantel-piece, hears her words with no less resentment than surprise. After a little he speaks in a voice of forced calmness.] And that is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting? I might perhaps wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.
Elizabeth.
I might as well inquire why, with so evident a design of insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, your reason, and even against your character!Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil?
Darcy.
I very clearly explained that the objections which appealed to my reason applied entirely to yourfamily, and in no respect to yourself.
Elizabeth.
I am a part of my family, Mr. Darcy; and allow me to say that, since I have had the opportunity of comparing my relations with your own, the contrast is not so marked as I had been led to suppose. [Darcystarts.] But—aside from all questions of either feeling or family—do you think any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister, and involving her in misery of the acutest kind? [Darcylooks at her with a smile of incredulity..] Can you deny that you have done this?
Darcy.
I have no wish of denying that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your sister. I did not, indeed, anticipate that I should involve either of them in "misery" of any kind. On your sister's side, at least, I was never able to discover any symptoms of peculiar regard for Mr. Bingley. While, for every reason, I must rejoice in my success with my friend; toward him I have been kinder than toward myself.
Elizabeth.
[With disdain.] Your arrogance in calmly deciding the extent of other people's sentiments does not surprise me. It is of a piece with your whole nature! But your interference in my sister's concerns is not all. Long before it had taken place, my opinion of you was decided. Your character was unfolded in the recital which I received months ago from Mr. Wickham. [Darcystarts excitedly.] What can you have to say on this subject? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself?
Darcy.
[In a tone of suppressed excitement, in marked contrast to his previous self-assured manner.] You take an eager interest in that gentleman.
Elizabeth.
Who that knows what his misfortunes have been can help feeling an interest in him?
Darcy.
[Contemptuously.] His misfortunes! Yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed!
Elizabeth.
[With energy.] And of your infliction! You have reduced him to his present state of poverty—comparative poverty; you have withheld the advantages which you must know to have been designed for him. You have done allthis, and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortunes with contempt and ridicule!
Darcy.
[Walking up and down the room with quick steps.] And this is your opinion of me? This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. [Stopping and looking at her.] Perhaps if I were to divulge the truth regarding Mr. Wickham, I might giveyouas great a surprise as you have givenme. [After a slight pause.] I do not care to go into particulars, but in justice to myself, I must tell you that the man whom you consider a martyr is a profligate with the most vicious propensities. A man who should never have entered your home, for his presence there is a constant source of danger.
Elizabeth.
[In indignation.] Mr. Darcy!
Darcy.
[With dignity.] I am ready to give you the full proofs of all I have said, Miss Bennet, whenever you may so desire, although I would gladly forget all the miserable circumstances myself, and no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold them to any human being.
Elizabeth.
[Coldly.] Your judgment in the matter of my sister's happiness has given me a gauge by which I can measureyour fairness to a man who has been so unfortunate as to offend you. My faith in Mr. Wickham is unshaken.
Darcy.
[Looking atElizabethin indignation and by a great effort governing himself.] I shall take what you have said, Miss Bennet, as a reflection on myjudgmentalone; otherwise, my veracity would be at stake, and this, I am sure, you did not intend. Indeed I understand your whole position perfectly. I have erred in the manner of my declaration. Your bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I concealed my struggles. It is my own fault. I have wounded your pride. I should have flattered you into the belief that I was impelled by inclination, by reason, by reflection, by everything! But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections?
Elizabeth.
[Angrily.] And do you expectmeto rejoice in your proposal that I ally myself to the conceit and impertinence ofyours? No, Mr. Darcy! The manner of your declaration has affected me only in one way:—it has spared me the concern which I might otherwise have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a moregentlemanlikeway. [Darcystarts.] You could not, however, have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it. [Darcylooks at her with an expression of mortified amazement.] I had not knownyou a month, before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.
Darcy.
You have said quite enough, Madam! I perfectly comprehend your feelings and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness. [Darcyhastily leaves the room.]
Elizabeth.
[Sinking into a chair, then getting up and walking excitedly about the room.] To insult my family! To think I was ready to fall on my knees, in gratitude for his condescension! To calmly dispose of Jane's happiness! [Stopping in her walk and with a half-amused smile.] And yet really to be in love with me in spite of every obstacle. [Throwing herself again into the chair, half laughing, half crying.] Oh, Jane, Jane! I wish you were here!
Martha.
[Enters with a letter.] Here is a letter, Miss. The express has just brought it.
Elizabeth.
A letter? For me?
Maid.
Yes, Miss—[She givesElizabeththe letter; curtsies and goes out.]
Elizabeth.
[Looking at the letter.] Why, it is from Jane! What can be the matter? [She opens the letter hurriedly and reads.] "Dearest Lizzy—I have bad news for you, and it cannot be delayed. An express came to us last night from Colonel Forster. He told us that Lydia had run away from Brighton with one of his officers:—to own the truth—with Wickham!"
Elizabeth.
Oh! Wickham! [Going on with the letter.] "He first thought they had gone to Scotland, but, oh, Lizzy, it is far worse than that! We now know that Wickham never intended to go there, or to marry Lydia at all!"
Elizabeth.
Oh! [Reading again.] "Colonel Forster has been here to-day. He says Wickham is not a man to be trusted! He has left Brighton terribly in debt, and his record is bad in every way. Oh, Lizzy, our distress is very great! My father is going to London with Colonel Forster instantly to try to discover the fugitives. It is hard to ask you to shorten your visit, but we are in such distress that——" [Darting from her seat.] Oh where—where is the express? I must write. No—I must go. Oh, Lydia and Wickham! I must go at once! I must send someone for a carriage. [She rushes to the garden door calling.] Martha, Martha! The express! [Suddenly she calls again.] Oh, Colonel Fitzwilliam, is that you?
Colonel Fitzwilliam.
[Appearing in the garden.] What is the matter, Miss Bennet?
Elizabeth.
[Wildly.] Oh, Colonel Fitzwilliam—the express—or can you get me a carriage? I have bad news from home. I must return at once and Mr. Collins is away. Will you be so kind? [She falls, half-fainting, upon a chair near the door.]
Colonel Fitzwilliam.
[With concern.] Certainly, my dear Miss Bennet—of course—but—— [Calling off.] Darcy, don't wait for me. I can't join you now. Miss Bennet is in distress.
Darcy.
[Entering.] Miss Bennet? Good God! What is the matter?
Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Miss Bennet has just had bad news from home. She wishes to return, and desires a carriage.
Darcy.
[In a decided tone.] Do you go for the carriage, Fitzwilliam. Get one from the stables. [Fitzwilliamhesitates.]
Darcy.
Go. I will remain with Miss Bennet.
[Fitzwilliamgoes out.]
Darcy.
[ToElizabethvery gently.] Shall I call the maid, Miss Bennet? A glass of wine? Shall I get it for you? You are very ill.
Elizabeth.
[Hardly able to speak.] No, I thank you: there is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well. I am only distressed by some dreadful news which I have just received from Longbourn. [She bursts into tears.]
Darcy.
[Helplessly.] I am sorry, very indeed!
Elizabeth.
[After a short silence.] I have just had a letter from Jane with suchdreadfulnews! It cannot be concealed from anyone.
Darcy.
I am grieved, Miss Bennet. Grieved indeed!
Elizabeth.
Oh, Mr. Darcy, you were right. If I had only believed you! You, and others! But I could not believe it. [She sobs.]
Darcy.
[Greatly moved.] What is it, my dear Miss Bennet? What has happened?
Elizabeth.
[Wildly.] Oh, I cannot tell it, and yet everyone must know! My sister Lydia—has—has eloped—has thrown herself into the power of—ofMr. Wickham! She has no money, nothing that can tempt him to—she is lost forever! [She sobs again.]
Darcy.
Good God, Miss Bennet! Your sister and Wickham! Oh, this ismyfault. I should have realised this danger—I should have spoken. My own wretched experience with this man should have been told.
Elizabeth.
[Wonderingly.] Your experience!
Darcy.
Yes—I—you remember. I hinted it to you—to-day. But I should long ago have spoken boldly.
Elizabeth.
What do you mean?
Darcy.
Mr. Wickham attempted this same plan with my own sister—two years ago. She was an ignorant, innocent, trusting girl of fifteen. Happily, his villainy was discovered and prevented. But oh, I should have told you! Had his character been known, this could not have happened.
Elizabeth.
You tried to tell me, Mr. Darcy. Everybody has tried to warn me. But I could not believe it, and now—it is too late, too late!
Darcy.
Let us hope not. Is what you have told me certain—absolutely certain?
Elizabeth.
Oh, yes. They left Brighton together on Sunday night. They are certainly not gone to Scotland.
Darcy.
And what has been done, or attempted, to recover your sister?
Elizabeth.
My father has gone to London. He will beg my uncle Gardiner's assistance. But nothing can be done! I know very well that nothingcanbe done. How is such a man to be worked on? How are they ever to be discovered? I have not the smallest hope. It is all horrible!
Darcy.
Miss Bennet, I have made a wretched mistake in all this. Would to Heaven that anything could be said or done on my part that might make you reparation, or offer consolation to such distress!
[Elizabethsinks sobbing into a chair whileDarcywalks up and down in deep thought. In a moment a carriage is heard outside—then voices.]
[Elizabethsinks sobbing into a chair whileDarcywalks up and down in deep thought. In a moment a carriage is heard outside—then voices.]
Darcy.
[Looking out.] Mr. and Mrs. Collins are returning. What would you wish me to do?
Elizabeth.
Oh, I do not know! I do not know!
Darcy.
[Returning toElizabeth,speaks quickly and in deep concern.] You really wish to return home at once?
Elizabeth.
[Rising from her chair.] Oh, yes, yes—at once. [Reaching her hand to him appealingly.] Take me home, Mr. Darcy! Take me home!
[At this instantMr. and Mrs. Collinsappear at the garden door, and, transfixed with astonishment, stand gazing atDarcyandElizabeth.]
[At this instantMr. and Mrs. Collinsappear at the garden door, and, transfixed with astonishment, stand gazing atDarcyandElizabeth.]
The Lawn and Shrubbery at Longbourn.Mrs. Bennetis seated in a garden chair with pillows at her back. She has an umbrella over her head. Near her stands a table on which are bottles, dishes, etc. She wears a big cap, and is gowned in a widely-flowing, flowered chamber-robe, over which is fastened a shawl; across her knees is a lap-robe. Her entire get-up is grotesque and laughable. About her hover the housekeeper,HillandJane.
The Lawn and Shrubbery at Longbourn.Mrs. Bennetis seated in a garden chair with pillows at her back. She has an umbrella over her head. Near her stands a table on which are bottles, dishes, etc. She wears a big cap, and is gowned in a widely-flowing, flowered chamber-robe, over which is fastened a shawl; across her knees is a lap-robe. Her entire get-up is grotesque and laughable. About her hover the housekeeper,HillandJane.
Jane.
Dear mamma, do try and take some of this nice gruel. You will be ill if you do not eat something.
Hill.
Yes, do, I beg of you, Madam. Now that you are once more in the air, if you will only take some food you will feel much better.
Mrs. Bennet.
[Fretfully.] How can I feel better? I must be ill. It is all very well for the rest of you, now that this disgrace has been brought upon me—but if I had been able to carry my point—if I could have gone to Brighton with all my family, this would never have happened. But poor dearLydia had nobody to take care of her. Oh, that villainous Wickham! I am sure there was some great neglect or other somewhere, for Lydia is not the kind of girl to run away with a man. But no one would listen to me. I was overruled, as I always am. Poor Lydia! Poor dear child!
Jane.
[Soothingly.] Oh, mamma, try to be calm.
Hill.
Yes, Madam, this excitement is so bad for you.
Mrs. Bennet.
How can I help being excited? You have no feelings. Here is Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will fight that abominable Wickham and be killed. And then what is to become of us all? The Collinses will turn us out before Mr. Bennet is cold in his grave.
Jane.
Oh, mamma, do not have such terrific ideas.
Mrs. Bennet.
[Weeping.] If my brother Gardiner is not kind to me, I do not know what we shall do.
Jane.
Yes, yes. My Uncle Gardiner is very kind. He is doing everything in his power for us. He is helping myfather now in London, you know. I hope he will find Lydia, and perhaps he may be able to arrange a marriage after all. You must not give up so, dear mamma.
Hill.
No indeed, Madam. You must not indeed.
Mrs. Bennet.
[Brightening.] Yes, Jane, that is true. My brother may be able to see that they are married. Write to him at once, Jane. Tell him to find them out wherever they may be, and if they are not married already, make them marry. Oh, I do think that Wickham is the wickedest young man in the world to so deceive my poor innocent Lydia. But, Jane, go and write my brother and tell him that Lydia need not wait for wedding clothes—don't let her even give directions till she has seen me, for she doesn't know which are the best warehouses. And oh, Jane, tell my brother to keep your father from fighting that hateful Wickham. Tell him what a dreadful state I am in.
Jane.
Yes, mamma. [She is about to go.]
Mrs. Bennet.
Where are you going?
Jane.
Why, to write the letter, mamma.
Mrs. Bennet.
[Fretfully.] Oh, not just this minute. Don't leave me alone. Where is Lizzy?
Jane.
She has gone down the road to meet the post. She hopes to bring you good news.
Mrs. Bennet.
[Lamenting.] She had better stay here and be of some help. She has only just got home and now she leaves me. But nobody thinks of me. Nobody knows what I suffer. I am frightened out of my wits. I have such tremblings and flutterings all over me—such spasms in my side—and pains in my head, and such beatings at my heart. Oh, I can get no rest by night or by day! [ToHill.] You might try and do something, Hill. Where is my soothing draught?
Hill.
[Looking.] Here, Madam. No, I must have left it in your room. I will run fetch it. [She goes out quickly.]
Jane.
[Who has been looking off toward the driveway during part of this tirade.] Oh, mamma—mamma! Lizzy's running up the drive. She is smiling! She has some good news, I am sure.
Mrs. Bennet.
Take care, Jane. You are exciting me. Oh, my poor nerves.
[Elizabethenters, breathless. She has a letter in her hand.]
[Elizabethenters, breathless. She has a letter in her hand.]
Elizabeth.
Oh, good news—good news, Jane!—mamma! They are married!
Jane.
Oh, Lizzy—Lizzy!
Mrs. Bennet.
You are sure, Lizzy? Don't excite me. You are sure?
Elizabeth.
[Half laughing and half crying.] Oh, yes, 'tis certain. My dear Aunt Gardiner has written me all about it. They are really married! Oh, how good my uncle is! [She kisses the letter.]
Mrs. Bennet.
Oh, Jane—Oh, Lizzy! My dear, dear Lydia! She is really married! I shall see her again! Oh, my good, kind brother! But how did it happen, Lizzy?
Jane.
Yes, tell us all about it. Let me read it. [She reaches for the letter.]
Elizabeth.
[Keeping the letter.] No, I will tell you. Well, my father and my uncle succeeded in finding Lydia. My aunt does not tell me just how it was done.
Mrs. Bennet.
[Triumphantly.] And your father found that they were married after all. I told him——
Elizabeth.
No, mamma. They were not married, and they had no idea of being—but my father and uncle insisted upon it. They took Lydia away at once to my aunt's house and from there, they were married only yesterday at St. Clement's Church.
Mrs. Bennet.
St. Clement's—fine!
Elizabeth.
My dear good uncle has arranged to have all Mr. Wickham's debts paid and my father is to settle an allowance on Lydia.
Jane.
But where are they? What are they going to do?
Elizabeth.
My father is coming home at once. He may be here at any moment. At first he would not consent to let Lydiaand Wickham come to us, but my aunt and uncle urged it—and my father knew how anxious mamma would be—and sotheyare coming here too.
Jane.
At once?
Elizabeth.
Yes, directly, to-day.
Mrs. Bennet.
Oh, my dear Lydia! How I long to see her, and to see my dear Wickham too. But the clothes, the wedding clothes! I must write to my Sister Gardiner about them directly.
[She tries to get out of the chair.]
Jane.
Oh, mamma, there is plenty of time for that.
Mrs. Bennet.
Well, perhaps so. My dear, dear Lydia! How merry we shall all be together! I am so happy! Lydia married. She is Mrs. Wickham. How well it sounds. My dear Jane, I must see about the clothes. We will settle with your father about the money later. Oh, I am in such a flutter! Here comes Hill. [Hillenters with the bottle.] My dear Hill, have you heard the news? Miss Lydia is married and is coming home directly.
Hill.
Indeed!
Mrs. Bennet.
Yes, you shall all have a bowl of punch, to make merry for her wedding, and I am going into the house to write about the clothes. [ToJane,who is going with her.] No, Jane, you stay where you are. I know what I am about. Come, Hill. Think of it—Mrs. Wickham!