foreign_lg 版 (精华区)
发信人: xunhuan (集香自焚,浴火重生), 信区: foreign_lg
标 题: pride and prejudice 36
发信站: 听涛站 (2001年06月04日17:15:31 星期一), 站内信件
IF Elizabeth, when Mr. Darcy gave her the letter, did not expect it to
contain a renewal of his offers, she had formed no expectation at all of
its contents. But such as they were, it may be well supposed how
eagerly she went through them, and what a contrariety of emotion they
excited. Her feelings as she read were scarcely to be defined. With
amazement did she first understand that he believed any apology to be in
his power; and stedfastly was she persuaded that he could have no
explanation to give, which a just sense of shame would not conceal. With
a strong prejudice against every thing he might say, she began his
account of what had happened at Netherfield. She read, with an eagerness
which hardly left her power of comprehension, and from impatience of
knowing what the next sentence might bring, was incapable of attending
to the sense of the one before her eyes. His belief of her sister's
insensibility, she instantly resolved to be false, and his account of
the real, the worst objections to the match, made her too angry to
have any wish of doing him justice. He expressed no regret for what he
had done which satisfied her; his style was not penitent, but haughty.
It was all pride and insolence.
But when this subject was succeeded by his account of Mr. Wickham, when
she read, with somewhat clearer attention, a relation of events, which,
if true, must overthrow every cherished opinion of his worth, and which
bore so alarming an affinity to his own history of himself, her
feelings were yet more acutely painful and more difficult of definition.
Astonishment, apprehension, and even horror, oppressed her. She
wished to discredit it entirely, repeatedly exclaiming, ``This must be
false! This cannot be! This must be the grossest falsehood!'' -- and
when she had gone through the whole letter, though scarcely knowing
any thing of the last page or two, put it hastily away, protesting
that she would not regard it, that she would never look in it again.
In this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts that could rest on
nothing, she walked on; but it would not do; in half a minute the letter
was unfolded again, and collecting herself as well as she could, she
again began the mortifying perusal of all that related to Wickham, and
commanded herself so far as to examine the meaning of every sentence.
The account of his connection with the Pemberley family was exactly what
he had related himself; and the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy,
though she had not before known its extent, agreed equally well with his
own words. So far each recital confirmed the other; but when she came
to the will, the difference was great. What Wickham had said of the
living was fresh in her memory, and as she recalled his very words, it
was impossible not to feel that there was gross duplicity on one side or
the other; and, for a few moments, she flattered herself that her
wishes did not err. But when she read, and re-read with the closest
attention, the particulars immediately following of Wickham's
resigning all pretensions to the living, of his receiving, in lieu, so
considerable a sum as three thousand pounds, again was she forced to
hesitate. She put down the letter, weighed every circumstance with
what she meant to be impartiality -- deliberated on the probability of
each statement -- but with little success. On both sides it was only
assertion. Again she read on. But every line proved more clearly that
the affair, which she had believed it impossible that any contrivance
could so represent as to render Mr. Darcy's conduct in it less than
infamous, was capable of a turn which must make him entirely blameless
throughout the whole.
The extravagance and general profligacy which he scrupled not to lay to
Mr. Wickham's charge, exceedingly shocked her; the more so, as she
could bring no proof of its injustice. She had never heard of him before
his entrance into the ----shire Militia, in which he had engaged at the
persuasion of the young man, who, on meeting him accidentally in town,
had there renewed a slight acquaintance. Of his former way of life,
nothing had been known in Hertfordshire but what he told himself. As
to his real character, had information been in her power, she had
never felt a wish of enquiring. His countenance, voice, and manner had
established him at once in the possession of every virtue. She tried
to recollect some instance of goodness, some distinguished trait of
integrity or benevolence, that might rescue him from the attacks of Mr.
Darcy; or at least, by the predominance of virtue, atone for those
casual errors, under which she would endeavour to class what Mr. Darcy
had described as the idleness and vice of many years continuance. But no
such recollection befriended her. She could see him instantly before
her, in every charm of air and address; but she could remember no more
substantial good than the general approbation of the neighbourhood,
and the regard which his social powers had gained him in the mess. After
pausing on this point a considerable while, she once more continued
to read. But, alas! the story which followed, of his designs on Miss
Darcy, received some confirmation from what had passed between Colonel
Fitzwilliam and herself only the morning before; and at last she was
referred for the truth of every particular to Colonel Fitzwilliam
himself -- from whom she had previously received the information of
his near concern in all his cousin's affairs, and whose character she
had no reason to question. At one time she had almost resolved on
applying to him, but the idea was checked by the awkwardness of the
application, and at length wholly banished by the conviction that Mr.
Darcy would never have hazarded such a proposal if he had not been
well assured of his cousin's corroboration.
She perfectly remembered every thing that had passed in conversation
between Wickham and herself in their first evening at Mr. Philips's.
Many of his expressions were still fresh in her memory. She was now
struck with the impropriety of such communications to a stranger, and
wondered it had escaped her before. She saw the indelicacy of putting
himself forward as he had done, and the inconsistency of his professions
with his conduct. She remembered that he had boasted of having no
fear of seeing Mr. Darcy -- that Mr. Darcy might leave the country,
but that he should stand his ground; yet he had avoided the
Netherfield ball the very next week. She remembered also, that till
the Netherfield family had quitted the country, he had told his story to
no one but herself; but that after their removal, it had been every
where discussed; that he had then no reserves, no scruples in sinking
Mr. Darcy's character, though he had assured her that respect for the
father would always prevent his exposing the son.
How differently did every thing now appear in which he was concerned!
His attentions to Miss King were now the consequence of views solely and
hatefully mercenary; and the mediocrity of her fortune proved no longer
the moderation of his wishes, but his eagerness to grasp at any thing.
His behaviour to herself could now have had no tolerable motive; he had
either been deceived with regard to her fortune, or had been gratifying
his vanity by encouraging the preference which she believed she had
most incautiously shewn. Every lingering struggle in his favour grew
fainter and fainter; and in farther justification of Mr. Darcy, she
could not but allow that Mr. Bingley, when questioned by Jane, had
long ago asserted his blamelessness in the affair; that, proud and
repulsive as were his manners, she had never, in the whole course of
their acquaintance -- an acquaintance which had latterly brought them
much together, and given her a sort of intimacy with his ways -- seen
any thing that betrayed him to be unprincipled or unjust -- any thing
that spoke him of irreligious or immoral habits. That among his own
connections he was esteemed and valued -- that even Wickham had
allowed him merit as a brother, and that she had often heard him speak
so affectionately of his sister as to prove him capable of some
amiable feeling. That had his actions been what Wickham represented
them, so gross a violation of every thing right could hardly have been
concealed from the world; and that friendship between a person capable
of it, and such an amiable man as Mr. Bingley, was incomprehensible.
She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. -- Of neither Darcy nor Wickham
could she think, without feeling that she had been blind, partial,
prejudiced, absurd.
``How despicably have I acted!'' she cried. -- ``I, who have prided
myself on my discernment! -- I, who have valued myself on my
abilities! who have often disdained the generous candour of my sister,
and gratified my vanity, in useless or blameable distrust. -- How
humiliating is this discovery! -- Yet, how just a humiliation! -- Had
I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind. But vanity,
not love, has been my folly. -- Pleased with the preference of one, and
offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our
acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven
reason away, where either were concerned. Till this moment, I never knew
myself.''
From herself to Jane -- from Jane to Bingley, her thoughts were in a
line which soon brought to her recollection that Mr. Darcy's explanation
there had appeared very insufficient; and she read it again. Widely
different was the effect of a second perusal. -- How could she deny that
credit to his assertions, in one instance, which she had been obliged
to give in the other? -- He declared himself to have been totally
unsuspicious of her sister's attachment; -- and she could not help
remembering what Charlotte's opinion had always been. -- Neither could
she deny the justice of his description of Jane. -- She felt that Jane's
feelings, though fervent, were little displayed, and that there was a
constant complacency in her air and manner not often united with great
sensibility.
When she came to that part of the letter in which her family were
mentioned, in terms of such mortifying yet merited reproach, her sense
of shame was severe. The justice of the charge struck her too forcibly
for denial, and the circumstances to which he particularly alluded, as
having passed at the Netherfield ball, and as confirming all his first
disapprobation, could not have made a stronger impression on his mind
than on hers. The compliment to herself and her sister was not unfelt.
It soothed, but it could not console her for the contempt which had been
thus self-attracted by the rest of her family; -- and as she considered
that Jane's disappointment had in fact been the work of her nearest
relations, and reflected how materially the credit of both must be
hurt by such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed beyond any thing
she had ever known before.
After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way to every
variety of thought; re-considering events, determining probabilities,
and reconciling herself, as well as she could, to a change so sudden and
so important, fatigue, and a recollection of her long absence made
her at length return home; and she entered the house with the wish of
appearing cheerful as usual, and the resolution of repressing such
reflections as must make her unfit for conversation.
She was immediately told, that the two gentlemen from Rosings had
each called during her absence; Mr. Darcy, only for a few minutes to
take leave, but that Colonel Fitzwilliam had been sitting with them at
least an hour, hoping for her return, and almost resolving to walk after
her till she could be found. -- Elizabeth could but just affect concern
in missing him; she really rejoiced at it. Colonel Fitzwilliam was no
longer an object. She could think only of her letter.
--
蓦然发现:
生命竟也是一种绚烂。
天行健,君子以自强不息;
地势坤,君子以厚德载物。
※ 来源:·听涛站 tingtao.dhs.org·[FROM: 匿名天使的家]
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