第 36 章
當達西先生遞給伊莉莎白那封信的時候，伊莉莎白如果並沒有想到那封信裏是重新提出求婚，那她就根本沒想到信裏會寫些什麼。既然一看見這樣的內容，你可想而知，她當時想要讀完這封信的心情是怎樣迫切，她的感情上又給引起了多大的矛盾。她讀信時的那種心情，簡直無法形容。開頭讀到他居然還自以為能夠獲得人家的原諒，她就不免吃驚；再讀下去，又覺得他處處都是自圓其說，而處處都流露出一種欲蓋彌彰的羞慚心情。她一讀到他所寫的關於當日發生在尼日斐花園的那段事情，就對他的一言一語都存著極大的偏見。她迫不及待地讀下去，因此簡直來不及細細咀嚼；她每讀一句就急於要讀下一句因此往往忽略了眼前一句的意思。他所謂她的姐姐對彬格萊本來沒有什麼情意，這叫她立刻斷定他在撒謊；他說那門親事確確實實存在著那麼些糟糕透頂的缺陷，這使她簡直氣得不想把那封信再讀下去。他對於自己的所作所為，絲毫不覺得過意不去，這當然使她無從滿意。他的語氣真是盛氣淩人，絲毫沒有悔悟的意思。
讀下去讀到他關於韋翰先生那一段事情的剖白，她才多少比剛才神態清明一些，其中許多事情和韋翰親口自述的身世十分相同，假如這些都是真話，那就會把她以前對韋翰的好感一筆勾銷，這真是使她更加痛苦，更加心亂。她感到十分驚訝和疑慮，甚至還有幾分恐怖。她恨不得把這件事全都當作他捏造出來的，她一次次嚷道：”一定是他在撒謊！這是不可能的！這是荒謬絕倫的謊話！”──她把全信讀完以後，幾乎連最後的一兩頁也記不起說些什麼了，連忙把它收拾起來，而且口口聲聲抗議說，決不把它當作一回真事，也決不再去讀那封信。
她就這樣心煩意亂地往前走，真是千頭萬緒，不知從哪里想起才好。可是不到半分鐘工夫，她又按捺不住，從信封裏抽出信來聚精會神地忍痛讀著寫述韋翰的那幾段，逼著自己去玩味每一句話的意思。其中講到韋翰跟彭伯裏的關係的那一段，簡直和韋翰自己所說的毫無出入；再說到老達西先生生前對他的好處，信上的話也和韋翰自己所說的話完全符合，雖說她並不知道老達西先生究竟對他好到什麼地步。到這裏為止，雙方所述的情況都可以互相印證，但是當她讀到遺囑問題的時候，兩個人的話就大不相同了。韋翰說到牧師俸祿的那些話，她還記得清清楚楚；她一想起他那些話，就不免感覺到，他們兩個人之間總有一個人說的是假話，於是她一時之間，倒高興起來了，以為自己這種想法不會有錯。接著她又極其仔細地一讀再讀，讀到韋翰藉口放棄牧師俸祿從而獲得了三千磅一筆款項等等情節的時候，她又不由得猶豫起來。她放下那封信，把每一個情節不偏不倚地推敲了一下，把信中每一句話都仔仔細細考慮了一下，看看是否真有其事，可是這樣做也毫無用處。雙方都是各執一辭。她只得再往下讀。可是愈讀愈糊塗；她本以為這件事任憑達西先生怎樣花言巧語，顛倒是非，也絲毫不能減輕他自己的卑鄙無恥，哪里想得到這裏面大有文章可做，只要把事情改變一下說法，達西先生就可以把責任推卸得一乾二淨。
達西竟毫不遲疑地把驕奢淫逸的罪名加在韋翰先生身上，這使她極其驚駭──何況她又提不出反證，於是就越發驚駭。在韋翰先生參加某某郡的民兵團之前，伊莉莎白根本沒有聽到過他這個人。至於他所以要參加民兵團，也只是因為偶然在鎮上遇見了以前一個泛泛之交的朋友，勸他加入的。講到他以前的為人處世，除了他自己所說的以外，她完全一無所知。至於他的真正的人品，她即使可以打聽得到，也並沒有想要去追根究底。他的儀態音容，叫人一眼看去就覺得他身上具備了一切美德。她竭力要想起一兩件足以說明他品行優良的事實，想起他一些為人誠實仁愛的特性，使達西先生所指責的誹謗可以不攻自破，至少也可以使他的優點遮蓋得住他偶然的過失。她所謂他的偶然過失，都是針對達西先生所指責的連年來的懶惰和惡習而說的，可惜她就想不出他這樣的一些好處來。她眨下眼睛就可以看到他出現在她面前，風采翩翩，辭令優雅，但是，除了鄰里的讚賞之外，除了他用交際手腕在夥伴之間贏得的敬慕之外，她可想不起他有什麼更具體的優點。她思考了好一會兒以後，又繼續讀信。可是天哪！接下去就讀到他對達西小姐的企圖，這只要想一想昨天上午她跟費茨威廉上校的談話，不就是可以證實了嗎？信上最後要她把每一個細節都問問費茨威廉上校本人，問問他是否真有其事。以前她就曾經聽費茨威廉上校親自說起過，他對他表兄達西的一切事情都極其熟悉，同時她也沒有理由去懷疑費茨威廉的人格。她一度幾乎下定了決心要去問他，但是問起這件事不免又要有多少彆扭，想到這裏，她便把這個主意暫時擱了下來。後來她又想到，如果達西拿不准他表弟的話會和他自己完全一致，那他決不會冒冒失失提出這樣一個建議，於是她就乾脆打消了這個主意。
那個下午她跟韋翰先生在腓力普先生家裏第一次見面所談的話，現在都能一五一十地記得清清楚楚。他許許多多話到現在還活靈活現地出現在她的記憶裏。於是她突然想到他跟一個陌生人講這些話是多麼冒昧，她奇怪自己以前為什麼這樣疏忽。她發覺他那樣自稱自贊，是多麼有失體統，而且他又是多麼言行不符。她記起了他曾經誇稱他自己並不是怕看到達西先生，又說達西先生要走就走，他可決不肯離開此地；然而，下一個星期在尼日斐花園開的舞會，他畢竟沒有敢去。她也還記得在尼日斐花園那人家沒有搬走以前，他從來沒跟另外一個人談起過他自己的身世，可是那家人家一搬走以後，這件事就到處議論紛紛了。雖然他曾經向她說過，為了尊重達西的先父，他老是不願意揭露那位少爺的過錯，可是他畢竟還是肆無忌憚，毫不猶疑地在破壞達西先生的人格。
凡是有關他的事情，怎麼這樣前後懸殊！他向金小姐獻殷勤一事，現在看來，也完全是從金錢著眼，這實在可惡；金小姐的錢並不多，可是這並不能說明他欲望不高，卻只能證實他一見到錢就起貪心。他對待她自己的動機也不見得好；不是他誤會她很有錢，就是為了要搏得她的歡心來滿足他自己的虛榮；只怪她自己不小心，竟讓他看出了她對他有好感。她越想越覺得他一無可取，她禁不住又想起當初吉英向彬格萊先生問起這事時，彬格萊先生說，達西先生在這件事情上毫無過失，於是她更覺得達西有理了。儘管達西的態度傲慢可厭，可是從他們認識以來（特別是最近他們時常見面，她對他的行為作風更加熟悉）她從來沒有見過他有什麼品行不端或是蠻不講理的地方，沒有看見過他有任何違反教義或是傷風敗俗的惡習；他的親友們都很尊敬他，器重他，連韋翰也承認他不愧為一個好哥哥，她還常常聽到達西愛撫備至地說起他自己的妹妹，這說明他還是具有親切的情感。假使達西的所作所為當真象韋翰說的那樣壞，那麼，他種種胡作非為自難掩盡天下人的耳目；以一個為非作歹到這樣地步的人，竟會跟彬格萊先生那樣一個好人交成朋友，真是令人不可思議。
她越想越慚愧得無地自容。不論想到達西也好，想到韋翰也好，她總是覺得自己以往未免太盲目，太偏心，對人存了偏見，而且不近情理。
她不禁大聲叫道：”我做得多麼卑鄙！我一向自負有知人之明！我一向自以為有本領！一向看不起姐姐那種寬大的胸襟！為了滿足我自己的虛榮心，我待人老是不著邊際地猜忌多端，而且還要做得使我自己無懈可擊。這是我多麼可恥的地方！可是，這種恥辱又是多麼活該！即使我真的愛上了人家，也不會盲目到這樣該死的地步。然而我的愚蠢，並不是在戀愛方面，而是有虛榮心方面。開頭剛剛認識他們兩位元的時候，一個喜歡我，我很高興，一個怠慢我，我就生氣，因此造成了我的偏見和無知，遇到與他們有關的事情，我就不能明辨是非。我到現在才算不了自知之明。”
她從自己身上想到吉英身上，又從吉英身上想到彬格萊身上，她的思想聯成了一條直線，使她立刻想起了達西先生對這件事的解釋非常不夠；於是她又把他的信讀了一遍。第二遍讀起來效果就大不相同了。她既然在一件事情上不得不信任他，在另一件事上又怎能不信任呢？他說他完全沒想到她姐姐對彬格萊先生有意思，於是她不禁想起了從前夏綠蒂一貫的看法。她也不能否認他把吉英形容得很恰當。她覺得吉英雖然愛心熾烈，可是表面上卻不露形跡，她平常那種安然自得的神氣，實在叫人看不出她的多愁善感。
當她讀到他提起她家裏人的那一段時，其中措辭固然傷人感情，然而那一番責難卻也入情入理，於是她越發覺得慚愧。那真是一針見血的指責，使她否認不得；他特別指出，尼日斐花園建交舞會上的種種情形，是第一次造成他反對這門婚姻的原因──老實說，那種情形固然使他難以忘懷，自己也同樣難以忘懷。
至於他對她自己和對她姐姐的恭維，她也不是無動於中。她聽了很舒服，可是她並沒有因此而感到安慰，因為她家裏人不爭氣，招來他的訾議，並不能從恭維中得到補償。她認為吉英的失望完全是自己的至親骨肉一手造成的，她又想到，她們兩姐妹的優點也一定會因為至親骨肉的行為失檢而受到損害，想到這裏，她感到從來沒有過的沮喪。
她沿著小路走了兩個鐘頭，前前後後地左思右想，又把好多事情重新考慮了一番，判斷一下是否確有其事。這一次突然的變更，實在事關緊要，她得儘量面對事實。她現在覺得疲倦了，又想到出來已久，應該回去了；她希望走進屋子的時候臉色能象平常一樣愉快，又決計把那些心思抑制一下，免得跟人家談起話來態度不自然。
回到屋子裏，人家立刻告訴她說，在她出外的當兒，羅新斯的兩位先生都來看過她了，達西先生是來辭行的，只待了幾分鐘就走了，費茨威廉上校卻跟她們在一起坐了足足一個鐘頭，盼望著她回來，幾乎想要跑出去找到她才肯甘休。伊莉莎白雖然表面上裝出很惋惜的樣子，內心裏卻因為沒有見到這位訪客而感到萬分高興。她心目中再也沒有費茨威廉了，她想到的只有那封信。
Chapter 36
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.
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