A Letter from Mr. Collins

Chapter-16

They travelled as quickly as possible, sleeping one night on the way, and reached Longbourn by dinner-time the next day. The little Gardiners, attracted by the sight of a carriage, were standing on the steps of the house as they entered the garden. When the carriage drove up to the door the joyful surprise that lighted up their faces was the first pleasing sign of their welcome.
Elizabeth jumped out and, after giving each of them a hasty kiss, hurried inside where Jane immediately met her. Elizabeth affectionately embraced her and while tears filled the eyes of both, asked at once whether anything had been heard of Lydia.
“Not yet,” replied Jane, “but now that my dear uncle has come, I hope everything will be well. My father is in London and says he will not write until he has something important to report.”
“And my mother? How is she? How are you all?”
“My mother is quite well, though she is very shaken. She is upstairs and will be very pleased to see you. She does not leave her room yet. The rest of us are all well.”

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and their children now joined them and Jane ran to welcome them with alternate smiles and tears. They soon found that she had no news for them. The hopes, however, which the kindness of her heart inspired, had not yet deserted her. She still expected that it would all end well.
Mrs. Bennet, to whose room they all went, received them exactly as might be expected; with tears and lamentations of regret, attacks on the wicked conduct of Wickham and complaints of her own sufferings. She blamed everyone except herself.
“Why did the Forsters ever let her out of their sight? I am sure they greatly neglected her; I always thought they were unfit to have charge of her, but I was ignored, as I always am. Poor, dear child! And now Mr. Bennet has gone away and I know he will fight Wickham and then he will be killed and what will become of us all? The Collins will turn us out before he is cold in his grave; and if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know what we shall do.”
Mrs. Gardiner and the children remained in Hertfordshire a few days longer. The former shared in her nieces” attendance on Mrs. Bennet and was a great comfort to them. Their other aunt also visited frequently in order, as she said, to cheer them up. However, as she never came without some new story of Wickham’s extravagance or wickedness, she always went away leaving them more depressed than before.
All Meryton was finding faults in the man who, only three months before, had been almost an angel. Everybody said that he was in debt to every tradesman in the place; that he was the wickedest young man in the world; and everybody began to find out that they had always distrusted his apparent goodness.
On Tuesday Mrs. Gardiner received a letter from her husband. He reported that Mr. Bennet had not yet found the couple, but that he was not yet ready to leave London.
Every day at Longbourn was now a day of anxiety, but the most anxious part of each was when the post was expected. The arrival of letters was the first object of every morning’s impatience. Every day some news of importance was expected.
But before they heard again from Mr. Gardiner a letter arrived for their father from Mr. Collins. Jane had been told to open all letters that came for him, and Elizabeth, who knew what curiosities his letters were, read it too.
“My dear Sir,
I feel it is my duty, as a relation and as a minister, to send you my sympathy on the great sadness which you are now suffering. Mrs. Collins and myself, my dear sir, sincerely sympathise with you and all your respectable family in your present distress, which must be of the bitterest kind, because no time can mend it. The death of your daughter would have been a blessing in comparison with this. It is even more distressing because, my dear Charlotte informs me, this evil behaviour in your daughter has resulted from faulty upbringing. At the same time, it may comfort yourself and Mrs. Bennet that I think that her own nature must be naturally bad, or she could not have been guilty of such wickedness at so early an age. In any case, you are much to be pitied. I am joined in this opinion not only by Mrs. Collins, but by Lady Catherine and her daughter, to whom I have told your misfortunes. They agree with me in fearing that this behaviour in one daughter will harm the fortunes of the others. Who, as Lady Catherine herself so condescendingly says, will marry such a family? This thought leads me to remember, with increased satisfaction, a certain event last November; for if it had not occurred I would have been involved myself in all your sorrow and disgrace. Let me advise you, then, my dear sir, to throw off your unworthy child from your affection for ever and leave her to suffer the reward of her own sin.”
On Saturday their father returned home. Discouraged by lack of success, he had agreed to Mr. Gardiner’s wish that he would return home to his family. Mr. Gardiner would do whatever was necessary. When Mrs. Bennet was told this she did not express as much satisfaction as her children expected, considering how anxious she had been for her husband’s life.
“Is he coming home without poor Lydia?” she cried, Surely he will not leave London before he has found them. Who will fight Wickham and make him marry her if Mr. Bennet comes away?”
The same coach carried Mrs. Gardiner and her children back to London and brought Mr. Bennet home. When he arrived he appeared as calm as usual. He said as little as ever and made no mention of the business which had taken him to London. It was some time before his daughters had courage to speak of it.
It was not until the afternoon, when he joined them at tea that Elizabeth dared to mention the subject. When she briefly said how sorry she was for what he must have suffered, he replied. “Say nothing of that. Who should suffer but myself? It has been my own fault and I ought to feel it.”
“You must not blame yourself too much,” replied Elizabeth.
“You do well to warn me against such an evil. Is human nature so inclined to that fault? No, Elizabeth, let me once in my life feel how much I have been to blame. I am not afraid of being overpowered by the feeling. It will pass away soon enough.”
Then after a short silence he continued.
“Elizabeth, I am not angry with you because you were right in your advice to me last May. Considering what has happened, that shows some greatness of mind in me.”
They were interrupted by Jane, who came to fetch her mother’s tea.
“This is a parade,” he cried, “which does one good. It makes misfortune so elegant! Another day I shall do the same; I will sit in my library in my dressing gown and give as much trouble as I can. Or perhaps I shall wait until Kitty runs away.”
“I am not going to run away!” said Kitty crossly, “If I ever go to Brighton, I shall behave better than Lydia.”
“You go to Brighton! I would not trust you near it for fifty pounds! No, Kitty, I have at last learnt to be careful and you will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever to enter my house again, nor even to pass through the village. Balls will be absolutely forbidden, unless you dance with one of your sisters. And you are never to go out of doors until you can prove that you have spent ten minutes of every day in a sensible manner.”
Kitty, who thought all these threats were serious, began to cry.
“Well, well,” he said, “do not make yourself unhappy. If you are a good girl for the next ten years I will take you to a regimental parade at the end of them.”

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