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Chapter XXXVI

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 ex-

cited. 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 steadfastly 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 everything he might say, she began his

account of what had happened at Netherfield. She read

with an eagerness which hardly left her power of compre-

hension; 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 in-

sensibility 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 at-

tention, 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 feel-

ings 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 anything

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.

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