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Pride and Prejudice — Chapter 15: Chapter XI

“James, you really talk very strangely. Of course I watch over Sibyl.”

At that moment they were met from another walk by Mrs. Hurst and Elizabeth herself.

“Pray tell your sister that I long to see her.”

“Do you prefer reading to cards?” said he; “that is rather singular.”

“Who is Captain Ahab, sir?”

Mr. Darcy took her advice, and did finish his letter.

“I have not the smallest objection to explaining them,” said he, as soon as she allowed him to speak. “You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other’s confidence, and have secret affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking: if the first, I should be completely in your way; and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire.”

“Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude.”

“To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ancles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! what could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum.”

“Lizzy,” cried her mother, “remember where you are, and do not run on in the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home.”

Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments.

“Oh yes--I understand you perfectly.”

“Well, what’s the report?” said Peleg when I came back; “what did ye see?”

It clearly being incumbent on some one to say, “Much better,” Mr. Lorry said it; perhaps not quite disinterestedly, but with the interested object of squeezing himself back again.

“Your humility, Mr. Bingley,” said Elizabeth, “must disarm reproof.”

“Dear Basil! I have not laid eyes on him for a week. It is rather horrid of me, as he has sent me my portrait in the most wonderful frame, specially designed by himself, and, though I am a little jealous of the picture for being a whole month younger than I am, I must admit that I delight in it. Perhaps you had better write to him. I don’t want to see him alone. He says things that annoy me. He gives me good advice.”

“Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and Miss Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very thankful; and then you may say whatever you like of me.”

“I am astonished,” said Miss Bingley, “that my father should have left so small a collection of books. What a delightful library you have at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!”

“I did not know before,” continued Bingley, immediately, “that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study.”