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good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most un-

willingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to any one.

It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope

will be of short duration. The feelings which you tell me

have long prevented the acknowledgment of your regard can

have little difficulty in overcoming it after this explanation.'

Mr. Darcy, who was leaning against the mantelpiece with

his eyes fixed on her face, seemed to catch her words with no

less resentment than surprise. His complexion became pale

with anger, and the disturbance of his mind was visible in

every feature. He was struggling for the appearance of

composure, and would not open his lips till he believed him-

self to have attained it. The pause was to Elizabeth's feel-

ings dreadful. At length, in a voice of forced calmness, he

said,--

'And this 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.'

'I might as well inquire,' replied she, 'why, with so evident

a design of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me

that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and

even against your character? Was not this some excuse for

incivility, if I _was_ uncivil? But I have other provocations.

You know I have. Had not my own feelings decided against

you, had they been indifferent, or had they even been favour-

able, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to

accept the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps

for ever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?'

As she pronounced these words, Mr. Darcy changed col-

our; but the emotion was short, and he listened without at-

tempting to interrupt her while she continued,--

'I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No

motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted

_there._ You dare not, you cannot, deny that you have been

the principal, if not the only means of dividing them from

each other, of exposing one to the censure of the world for

caprice and instability, the other to its derision for disap-

pointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the

acutest kind.'

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