Section I, Next Section

Volume 1, Chapter 1

Posted on Sunday, 28 November 1999

"My dear Mr. Bennet," said his wife one afternoon, "have you heard? We are finally to have a mayor!"

"Are we, my dear?" Mr. Bennet didn't look from his book.

"Oh, yes. I have had from Mrs. Long, the shopkeeper's wife. A young man of great fortune is coming out to Meryton, seeking position of mayor. And he may marry one of our daughters!"

Jane and Elizabeth, the two eldest girls, simply looked at each other, but their father replied,

"Is that his design in settling here - to marry one of our girls?"

"His design? How can you speak so! Of course it is not his design! But he may fall in love with one of them, so you must visit him as soon as he arrives!

"Certainly not. Send one of the girls. After all, it is them in whom he is interested, and if you go, he may like you best of all, and then where would we be?"

Mrs. Bennet looked extremely pleased at this remark. "Mr. Bennet," she said, "you flatter me! I admit when I was young, I was quite a belle, but when a woman has five grown daughters, it is high time she paid less attention to her own beauty."

"In many such cases, the woman in question has little beauty to think of," muttered Mr. Bennet from behind his book.

"What was that?" His wife asked.

"Nothing, my dear," he replied, but Lizzy, who had caught the remark, smiled.

"Anyway, you must go see Mr. Bingley when he arrives."

"Who is Mr. Bingley?"

"Why, the new mayor! You do this on purpose, Mr. Bennet! You have no compassion for my poor nerves."

"On the contrary, my dear. You nerves have been my great friends since we were married. Hardly a day goes by without you mentioning them."

"Oh, Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet was working her way into hysterics, and Jane saw a need to intervene.

"Mamma, perhaps you'd better go to your room -"

"No indeed! Not until I am certain your father will visit the mayor."

"Well, for your sake," replied Mr. Bennet, "I will write to him and tell him to marry one of our girls. You may have your own preferences, my dear, but I must throw in a word for Lizzy."

"Really, Father, I do not want -"

"Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. "Why, Lizzy has not the looks of Jane, not Lydia's figure."

"I'm not afraid, Mamma! I may be the youngest, but I am the tallest!" Lydia cried. She was the imprudent one in the family, taking after her mother.

"Oh, none of you know what I suffer!"

"Perhaps not," replied her husband, " but I hope you will get over it, and see many rich young mayors come to settle in Meryton."

"What good will it do us if 20 come, if you won't visit them?" Mrs. Bennet retorted.

"Depend on it, my dear, when 20 come, I will visit them each in turn."

"Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet sailed out of the room indignantly and Jane left to comfort her. Mary wanted to visit the book shop for the Sermons of Cotton Mather, and Kitty and Lydia wanted to see the Canadian trappers, so the three of them left the house for town. Lizzy and her father were the only two left at the table.

"Do you think your mother is serious, Lizzy?"

"I'm afraid so, Father."

"Mmhmm." Mr. Bennet sat quietly for a while, then said, "I don't think she will be disappointed. There are few enough girls in this town. Pity he isn't a Mormon fellow, though, and marry the lot of you at once!"

Volume 1, Chapter 2

Posted on Wednesday, 1 December 1999

The next morning, Elizabeth went with her father to his news room, recently converted from a warehouse. They could hear Mrs. Bennet's protestations ringing in their ears the whole way through town. She was a very old-fashioned woman, and believed Lizzy would be much better off as a dressmaker like Mary, or a teacher like Jane, than a printer's assistant. In her fantasy world, Mayor Bingley was uncle to one of Jane's pupils, and so be introduced to the family. In fact, as the days went on, she began believing that it would happen, that it had been ordained by psychics. She dared not tell her husband of this predetermination; he would only laugh at her nerves, but she was greatly delighted when Kitty and Lydia burst in one day with the news that Mr. Bingley was bringing 6 ladies and 3 gentlemen. Lizzy thought it was too many ladies.

The news room was, as usual, empty. Mr. Bennet has long given up hope of burglars in such a tiny town as Meryton; for burglars were news, and perhaps some petty larceny would increase the circulation of the paper. There was nothing but a few pieces of foolscap lying on the ground, a printing press in one corner, and a drawer of type in the other.

"Well, Lizzy," said her father, "it appears our roving reporter has not yet come in."

But just as Mr. Bennet said that, Charlotte Lucas burst through the door.

"I'm very sorry I'm late, Mr. Bennet. My father wanted me to stay home today," she said, taking off her wrap.

"Is there anything wrong at home, Charlotte?" asked Lizzy. They had been friends since they were five, and a question Charlotte might have been considered impertinent had it come from someone less intimate, was simply taken as a kind inquiry.

"No, but my father heard from Mr. Long that the mayor is coming today, and wanted me to greet him. He still doesn't know I'm working here. Do you think it's right, concealing it from him?"

"Would he agree if he knew?" Lizzy asked. She knew it was a rhetorical question. William Lucas was decidedly against Women's Rights, and a woman reporter was the worst possible career for his daughter, in his opinion.

"My father would say it was blasphemy, Lizzy, you know that."

"Then don't tell. You're our best reporter -"

"Your only reporter!" Charlotte interjected with a laugh.

"Granted. Our only reporter. And what good is a newspaper without a reporter?"

"None whatsoever," declared Charlotte.

"Very good, Lizzy," remarked Mr. Bennet from the chair. "You have succeeded in corrupting your best friend. Now, if you would spend the time printing the newspaper instead...."

"I'm sorry, father." Lizzy replied. "Charlotte, will you give me a hand with this?"

The girls worked all forenoon, setting type and printing from Mr. Bennet's instruction and handwritten articles. At noon they broke for dinner. Charlotte was going home for her meal, but the Bennets were going to the tavern. Or, at least, Mr. Bennet was. Ladies, even lady reporters, weren't allowed in the Golden Shoe so Lizzy was going to Jane's schoolhouse and eat with her sister.

No sooner had she walked out the door than she saw her two youngest sisters and her mother coming down the sidewalk.

"Did you see the mayor, Lizzy?" Lydia shouted from across the street. Lizzy pretended not to notice her boisterous sibling, but they crossed to her anyway. "Well," Lydia repeated, "did you see him?"

"No, I didn't. I've been in the shop all morning."

"But he went right by the shop! Isn't that right, Kitty? No, you won't know. Here's Mrs. Long, she'll have the latest information. Mrs. Long!"

"Lydia!" hissed Mrs. Bennet. "Stop your waving, girl! Mr. Bingley passed right in front of the shop, Lizzy, on his way to the Town Hall. With your nose in the type, I don't wonder you missed him! At least you haven't got an ink blot on your nose."

"Mamma, you can't get an ink blot on your nose when setting type."

"Don't change the subject!" Mrs. Bennet snapped. "That conniving Mrs. Long has invited Mr. Bingley to dine with her!"

"Then, Mamma, we have nothing to fear. Didn't Mrs. Long promise to introduce us to Mr. Bingley?"

"Mrs. Long! I don't believe her word. She has three nieces of her own!"

Lizzy didn't say anything, but rolled her eyes slightly.

Volume 1, Chapter 3

Posted on Monday, 27 December 1999

Some evenings after that, the Bennet family was sitting in the parlor, occupied in various ways, according to their preference. Mrs. Bennet alone had nothing to do, and so she began scolding one of her daughters.

"Kitty, do not cough so! You have no compassion on my poor nerves!"

Kitty replied fretfully, "I do not cough for my own amusement, Mama."

"Speaking of amusement," said Lydia suddenly, "has Charlotte told you when her father's next party is, Lizzy?"

"In a fortnight," replied her sister. "It's in honor of Mr. Bingley."

"And Mrs. Long only comes back from the city on that same day," cried her mother. "So she will not be able to introduce us, since she will not know him herself!"

"Why, Mama, didn't you say that Mrs. Long had invited Mr. Bingley for supper a week ago?"

"She did, but he declined her invitation, and then she had to go to the city on urgent business. I believe it had something to do with her father's estate. Even if her nieces do not marry Mr. Bingley, she will at least have the income from her father's will. But what good does it do us?" Mrs. Bennet was by now wringing her hands in despair.

"Calm down, my dear. If, as you say, Mrs. Long does not know Mr. Bingley, you can introduce her."

"How can you say so, Mr. Bennet? I cannot introduce a man I do not even know?"

"Very good, my dear. You have now become an excellent logician. Perhaps you would like to write for my paper sometime." Mrs. Bennet shuddered. She had a deep-rooted dislike of newspaperwomen. Pretending not to see his wife's expression, Mr. Bennet continued. "But you are right. A fortnight's acquaintance is very littler, but Mrs. Long and her nieces must have a chance, at least. If you will not introduce Mr. Bingley to them, I will do it myself!"

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Bennet dismissed the whole idea in a single syllable.

"Do you consider the various forms of introduction, and the stress laid on them, nonsense? I cannot agree, for without the desire of this town to learn etiquette, I should lose a great deal of my readers. What do you say, Mary? You read a many books and reflect on them as well."

Mary moved her glasses slightly higher on her nose and opened her mouth. However, no words came out, so she looked rather like a near-sighted fish gasping for breath.

"While Mary is adjusting her ideas, let us return to Mr. Bingley."

"I am sick of Mr. Bingley!" Mrs. Bennet cried. Her husband looked stunned for an instant, then continued.

"I am sorry to hear that, my dear. Had I known of your dislike for him, I would not have called on him. But it is done, and soon he will be back to return the visit."

The effect on his wife and two youngest daughters was exactly what Mr. Bennet had expected. They stared at him open-mouthed, for a minute, then the three rose simultaneously and began shrieking like banshees.

"What are you doing?" asked Mr. Bennet, seeming to be all astonishment. "Have you sat on a pin?"

"Isn't you father wonderful, girls? To have visited Mr. Bingley and not told us until now! I love a good joke!"

"Love it all you like, but leave me in peace," roared Mr. Bennet. The neighbors, who were of course listening through the walls, grew extremely frightened at Mr. Bennet's tone. Had running that newspaper finally broken his mind?

But no such trouble was seen in the Bennet parlor. Mrs. Bennet was ordering her daughters upstairs.

"Lydia, Kitty, come upstairs directly! We must prepare for the return of Mr. Bingley! And Lydia, don't be in the least afraid. I am sure Mr. Bingley will dance with you at Mr. Lucas's party."

"Oh," Lydia was heard to be explaining as she went up the stairs, "you forget Mamma, that I am the tallest!"

Volume 1, Chapter 4

Posted on Sunday, 30 January 2000

Try as they might, the Bennet women could not find out anything about Mr. Bingley from the man of the house, so they had to go out for their information. When Charlotte, whose father had visited Mr. Bingley shortly after Mr. Bennet, came to see Lizzy, Mrs. Bennet grabbed her as soon as she entered the hall and began firing questions at her.

"What does he look like? Is he handsome? Has he really brought 6 ladies and 3 gentlemen with him?"

"I cannot answer the first two, madam," began Charlotte, "but as to the third, he has only brought his two sisters, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, his brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, and a friend, Mr. Darcy." Mrs. Bennet was quite delighted at this news, and began a second round of questions. However, she could get no more information out, as Charlotte protested she knew nothing more.

So Mrs. Bennet had to be satisfied until the ball, when she could see him for herself. She declared firmly that she could not wait for another week, that she could not live with such uncertainty, but as Mr. Bennet put it, she was too much in love with Mr. Bingley already to avoid seeing him under such an awkward pretense of death.

The night of the ball came, and Mrs. Bennet was, of course, the first one ready. She sat in the carriage waiting for her husband and daughters, worrying that hey would all be late for the ball. However, they were not late - in fact, they were early. Mr. Bingley and his party had not yet arrived, and Mr. Lucas declared that the ball should not start until the man of honor walked in. So the entire town of Meryton was sitting around for close to an hour before the mayor arrived.

Mr. Bingley was rather good-natured in countenance, and insisted on smiling on everybody. His younger sister, Miss Bingley, was quite the opposite, and held up the hem of her gown as she walked past the people, as if they were cattle. Bingley's other sister, Mrs. Hurst, was short and fat, as was her husband. The two of them made straight for the card table and stayed there most of the evening. But the member of the party who caught everyone's eye was Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, an old friend of Mr. Bingley's. No sooner had he entered the room when a whisper went around that his late father had been a shipping magnate, and the present Mr. Darcy was worth in the region of $100,000. He had a fine estate just outside Oregon City, and was daily improving it and his fortune by means of his father's business.

Well, this report led all the ladies to crowd around him at the earliest possible convenience. Mrs. Bennet was of course first in line, and she returned to her sister Mrs. Phillips with a shaken face.

"What is it, sister?" asked Mrs. Phillips. "Has he got all that money?"

"More. Somewhere near a million, he led me to believe. But his is so arrogant! I think he is not half so good looking as I thought him before!"

"I suppose, Mama," said Lizzy, who was nearby, "if he had nothing, he would be downright ugly."

"Yes, Lizzy, I believe you to be true. Why do you and Charlotte laugh so? Mr. Bingley is far handsomer than his friend ever will be."

Lizzy and Charlotte walked away, shaking their heads over Mrs. Bennet's vocabulary. Instead, they went over to the wall and stood, waiting for partners. Even the appearance of the trappers from the North could not solve the grave male-female ration problem. All the Bennet girls had at least two dances, however, and afterwards Elizabeth was sitting down by the fire to warm her cold hands (her partner for the last two had been Mr. Johnston, the fishmonger, who still smelled and felt like his business). Mr. Darcy was standing near, and Elizabeth took the opportunity to observe him.

He was very tall and rather handsome in a high-browed sort of way, but it was obvious that he was not happy in this ball. Mr. Bingley must also have noticed his friend's face, for he came over as soon as the present dance was over.

"Come on, Darcy, dance a little. This is a ball."

"Your sisters are engaged at the moment," began Darcy, with a glance over at the card table, where Mrs. Hurst was vainly trying to raise her husband from a drunken stupor, "and you are dancing with the only tolerable woman in the room." Bingley followed his friend's gaze to where Jane stood, talking to her father.

"She is beautiful, isn't she?" Bingley's smile seemed to grow larger, if such a thing was possible.

Darcy reflected for a moment, then answered, "She smiles too much."

Bingley stared at him a moment, then caught sight of Lizzy sitting just behind them.

"There is one of her sisters, who is very pretty also. I must have you dance with her."

Darcy turned around and stared at Elizabeth until he caught her eye. He then turned back to his friend and said,

"She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me. Now stop bothering me and go back to Miss Bennet."

"Really, Darcy!" But Mr. Bingley seemed not to be very averse to taking his friend's suggestion and he disappeared soon after. Mr. Darcy, too, after a final glance at Elizabeth, walked off to the dinner table, where he was immediately monopolized by Miss Bingley. Elizabeth's opinion of him grew more decidedly negative, but she had great fun repeating the story to Jane and Charlotte.

In short, everyone who had attended the ball was quite pleased with it. Mrs. Bennet had seen her eldest daughter obviously preferred by the new mayor. Mr. Bingley had danced with her twice, and his sisters appeared to like her. Jane was as pleased by this as her mother, but she didn't show her feelings half so much. Elizabeth was glad because Jane was glad; Mary overheard herself to be the most accomplished girl in town; and Kitty and Lydia had plenty of trappers to dance with. The only citizen who had a rather bad evening was Mr. Bennet, who didn't even go. But when Mrs. Bennet and came home, she told all.

"Do you know, Mr. Bennet," she began without even taking off her wraps, "that our Jane was very much distinguished tonight? Mr. Bingley danced with her twice! Twice! And he only danced with Mrs. Long's nieces once each! The first one he danced with Charlotte Lucas, then the next with Jane, and then with the Misses Long, then with Jane again, and finally with Lizzy! I was quite mad to see him dance with Charlotte, but it all doesn't matter, for he danced with Jane next, and then the Misses Long, and then --"

"I wish he had broken his leg in the first dance! He has no compassion for me!" interrupted her husband. But Mrs. Bennet paid no attention.

"And he is so handsome!" She went off into a long discussion about his clothes, the clothes of his sisters and brother-in-law, and the manners of his friend Mr. Darcy. "But really, Mr. Bennet, Lizzy doesn't lose much in his esteem. He is the most disagreeable man I have ever met - such a contrast form his friend! Lizzy not good enough for him, indeed! I wish you had been there, to give him a piece of your mind! I detest the man."

Mrs. Bennet looked up from her tea to find she had been emoting to no one, for Mr. Bennet had disappeared at the first mention of clothing.

Volume 1, Chapter 5

Posted on Monday, 31 January 2000

It was only when Jane and Elizabeth were alone when the elder girl began to reveal her feelings for Mr. Bingley.

"He is my ideal in a young man," she said, " so smart, and lively, and handsome!"

"And he is rich, too, which every young man ought to be. His character is complete," remarked Lizzy, with a smile.

"I was flattered when he asked me to dance a second time. I didn't expect that at all."

"Didn't you? I thought he would. Compliments always take you by surprise, Jane. What else could he do, but ask you again? You're ten times prettier than any other girl in Meryton. Well, in any case, he is agreeable, and I give you permission to like him. You have liked much stupider people you know. Like that horrid fishmonger!"

"Lizzy! Mr. Johnston is a very kind man!"

"That is exactly what is wrong with you! You take the good of everyone and make it better, and you totally ignore the bad - how do you do it, Jane?"

"I don't like to classify people too hastily..." began Jane.

"I know, and that's what makes it so uncommon. One always meets people who pretend to be candid, but you are so without thinking of it." Lizzy shook her head in despair and Jane threw a pillow at her, which Lizzy promptly returned. "And this man's sisters?" she asked after things had settled down. "Do you like them? Their manners don't come close to his."

"No, but they are nice women, and Miss Bingley will keep house for her brother. I'm sure we will find her sweet and charming."

Lizzy wasn't convinced, however. She felt the Bingley women to be too proud and conceited. She had seen other Eastern women try the West, and most had failed miserably. She was sure Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst would retreat back East within a year.

The next morning, Mrs. Bennet stopped by the newspaper office during the coffee break. Mr. Bennet had stepped out when he saw his wife coming up the path, so Elizabeth and Charlotte were the only ones in the shop to deal with the onslaught.

"You started the evening off nicely, Charlotte," said Mrs. Bennet, rather coldly. "Mr. Bingley danced the first with you."

"Yes, but I think he liked his second better," replied Charlotte.

"Oh, I guess you mean Jane. Yes, I believe he did admire her - at least, I overheard him speak to your father."

"Perhaps when Father asked Mr. Bingley how he liked our parties, and which women he believe the prettiest. Mr. Bingley replied, 'Oh, the eldest Miss Bennet, of course, there cannot be two opinions there!' "

Mrs. Bennet drew in her breath excitedly. "Oh, I suppose that settles the question of his admiration. But it may come to nothing. Let us hope for the worst." Charlotte exchanged glances with Lizzy, then addressed Mrs. Bennet again.

"Well, ma'am, at least my overhearings brought more happiness than Lizzy's. Poor Eliza, to be only tolerable!"

"Please, Charlotte, don't put it into Lizzy's head to be angry at Mr. Darcy. He is like that to everyone. Mrs. Long told me she sat next to him for half an hour, and he didn't once open his lips."

"Are you sure, Mother?" said Lizzy. "I'm sure I saw him speak to her."

"Yes, but only because she asked him how he liked the party, and he had to reply. She said he seemed very angry about it, too. Everyone says he is ate up with pride."

"I don't mind him not talking to Mrs. Long, but I wish he had danced with Lizzy," replied Charlotte with another glance at Lizzy, who was carefully setting type for the next edition of the paper.

"I don't!" declared her mother. "Lizzy, if I were you, I would never dance with him!"

"I believe I can promise you that much, Mother," replied Lizzy with a smile.

"Oh, well, I must go see Mrs. Long. She may have some news about Mr. Bingley. Don't get an inkblot on your nose, Lizzy! I will never allow you to see the mayor if you do." So Mrs. Bennet left, and the two girls collapsed on chairs and laughed.

Volume 1, Chapter 6

Posted on Monday, 31 January 2000

The mayor's family soon came to visit the family to the newspaperman. Mr. Bingley and Jane spent much of the evening together, while Miss Bingley and her sister observed the Bennet women with the aid of a lorgnette. The mother was found intolerable, the father too liberal, and the younger sisters not worth speaking too. Lizzy was too outspoken, in their opinion. ("Think of it," they exclaimed later in the carriage home, "a woman reporter!") In fact, the only member of the family they really seemed to like was Jane. They declared her to be a sweet girl, and offered her a standing invitation to their house, which Mrs. Bennet understood to be for the whole family.

Lizzy soon saw what was obvious to her - that Jane was falling in love with the handsome young mayor. What was more, the feeling was still more obviously returned by him. But she felt that no one else should know of Jane's feelings, since the eldest Bennet girl had a great composure, which she wore like a mask and only let down to Lizzy. She mentioned this to Charlotte one morning after work.

"It is not good," declared her friend.

"How can you say that, Charlotte!"

"If a woman conceals her love from the man of her dreams, she may lose the chance of fixing him for good, and then it will all be in vain. In nine cases out of ten, a woman ought to show more affection than she feels, and Jane's case is one of the nine. It is obvious that our mayor likes your sister, but he may never propose unless she helps him on."

"But he must see that she loves him as well!"

"He doesn't know Jane's nature like you, Lizzy. They meet often enough, but never for much time at once, and always in large groups. It is impossible for his attention to be fixed on her every moment. So Jane must make the most of every minute she has with him. When she has got him good, then she can develop her love better."

"You know Jane, Charlotte. She isn't acting by design. She isn't even sure of her own regard for him. After all, she has known him only a fortnight: four dances and dinners at Meryton and one dinner at our house. That isn't enough to know his character."

"If she had only dined with him, she would know the size of his appetite. But there have been five evenings spent together."

"And now they both know they like Twenty-One more than Commerce."

"Well, in any case, I wish Jane happiness. I f she married him tomorrow, she would have as much chance of marital success as if she were studying him for two years. Happiness in marriage is only by chance, you know. Even if the partners know each other ever so well, that doesn't increase their chances of a good marriage. It is better to know as little as possible of the other's defects."

"You make me laugh, Charlotte, but it isn't sound. You would never throw yourself into marriage that way, you know it."

Charlotte became thoughtful. "I don't know, Lizzy. I'm 25 - I don't want to be an old maid all my life!" Lizzy stared. She had never thought her to care what old gossips said. But the awkward silence was short. "Here we are," said Charlotte, "my house. Good bye, Lizzy, see you tomorrow."

Elizabeth waved and continued down the street toward her own house. She was so occupied in Mr. Bingley's attentions toward Jane, she didn't notice his friend watching her from an upper window. As soon as Mr. Darcy told his friend that there was hardly a good feature in Miss Elizabeth Bennet's face, than he was struck by her bright eyes. There followed equally mortifying discoveries, concerning her light figure and playful manners. He began to wish to know more about her, and took his chance at Mr. Lucas's next honorial party, this one for the Robinsons' silver wedding. He was too proud to condescend to talk to her himself, but had no qualms about listening to her conversation with others. In doing so, he drew her notice.

"What does Mr. Darcy mean," she asked Charlotte, "by listening to my conversation with Mr. Forster from the trappers?"

"That is a question only Mr. Darcy can answer. I dare you to ask him when he comes nearer." Lizzy immediately took her friend up to the bet.

"Didn't you think, Mr. Darcy, I was teasing Mr. Forster to give us a good ball at Meryton?"

"Yes, but it is a subject which always makes a lady energetic."

"How severe!"

"It is her turn to be teased, Mr. Darcy. I am going to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows."

"What a friend! Always wanting me to play and sing before others. If I was musical-minded, Charlotte, you would have been invaluable, but I know my own limitations."

"I am sure, Miss Bennet, you must sing very well indeed," said Mr. Darcy. Eliza glanced at him to find out what he meant by such a comment, but she could see nothing in that inscrutable face.

"All right, then." Elizabeth went to the piano, and she really did sing rather well, but after a song, she gave up the instrument to her sister Mary, who, being the only plain one in the family, had worked hard for her knowledge, and was always eager for display. But she had no taste, and where Elizabeth had been listened to with much pleasure, Mary gave up half way through a Brandenburg concerto to play for dances for Lydia and Kitty.

After Elizabeth had stopped playing, Mr. Darcy stood in a corner and looked sullen until Mr. Lucas came over to talk to him.

"What a charming amusement a party is, Mr. Darcy. There is nothing like dancing. I consider it the mark of every polished society."

"Also of every unpolished society, sir. Every savage can dance."

Mr. Lucas smiled tolerantly. "Your friend dances capitally, and I have not doubt you perform as well yourself?" Mr. Darcy bowed in reply, then stepped back into his corner.

At that moment, Elizabeth was crossing the floor to tell Lydia to be more guarded in speech, and Mr. Lucas thought of what he believed to be a very gallant thing.

"Ah, Miss Eliza! Mr. Darcy, let me present this lady to you as a very desirable partner." He took Elizabeth's hand and would have placed it in Darcy's if she had not taken it away.

"Mr. Lucas," she said, "I have no intention of dancing, and I assure you, I didn't move this way for a partner." Mr. Darcy then asked her for a dance, but she refused and retreated to Charlotte.

"Insufferable man!" she cried in a whisper.

"Really, Eliza, don't let your hatred for him blind you to his prospects. He may propose to you on the strength of your dancing."

"Heaven forbid!"

Mr. Darcy, meanwhile, stood watching Elizabeth and thinking of her until Miss Bingley came up behind him.

"I can guess what you are thinking of."

"I do not think so."

"You are thinking how boring this party is, and how nice life back East is."

"Totally wrong. I have been thinking of a pair of fine eyes."

"Oh?" Miss Bingley was all set to receive the compliment she felt sure to get. "Whose?"

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"Miss Bennet!" She recovered herself quickly. "I am astonished. How long have you admired her, and when is the wedding? You will have a charming mother-in-law, of course, and of course she will always be with you at Pemberley."

She prattled on like this for quite a while, until she realized he had not been listening, but following Miss Fine Eyes around the room.

Volume 1, Chapter 7

Posted on Sunday, 6 February 2000

Now that they weather was growing finer, the Bennet girls were in the habit of walking to their aunt Phillips's farm a short distance outside town. Jane would accompany the two younger girls as far as the school house, but Lydia and Kitty one day returned with great news about the fur trappers.

"Mamma, guess what Aunt Phillips heard from Mrs. Long? The trappers are to stay in town until they finish selling their furs! And in this April heat, no one wants fur!" Lydia went on for quite a while about Carter (all the trappers were known only by their last names, unlike the more cultivated town gentlemen), until Mr. Bennet had to break in.

"From everything I have heard said, I am convinced that you are the silliest girl in Oregon."

"Really, Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "I can't believe you would say such a thing - and about you're own daughter, too. You can't expect such young girls - only 15 - to have the sense of their parents! I must say, when I was a young girl, back during the War--" (she was, of course, referring to the War between the States) "I liked a young militia man, myself, and if a rich trapper should ask for one of my girls, I wouldn't object."

Before Mr. Bennet had a chance to reply, someone knocked on the door. It was one of Bingley's few servants, come with a note from the mayor's sisters to Jane.

Dearest Jane,

If you do not come to dine with us next Tuesday, Louisa and I shall be heartbroken. My brother and Mr. Darcy are to dine with the town council then, so we will have a chance to get to know each other better.

Caroline Bingley

Jane read it aloud, then spoke to her father,

"May I have the carriage, Father?"

"You may certainly not have the carriage!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. "Your father cannot spare it. Go on horseback; it will rain, and you may have to spend the night."

"A good scheme, Mamma," said Elizabeth, "but they may send her home."

"Oh, no. The gentlemen will take Mr. Bingley's carriage, and the Hursts have no horses of their own."

So Jane was obliged to take the old swayback mare, Diana, and it did rain, and she was forced to spend the night there. She didn't return the next morning, however, and Elizabeth grew worried. But a note came before dinner from Netherfield.

My dearest Lizzy,

I am very sick this morning, from riding in the rain yesterday. Mr. Bingley insisted on calling Dr. Jones, but I am sure I will be fine in a day. Give my love to Father, and tell Mother I will be home soon.

Jane

"Well, my dear," said Mr. Bennet, after Lizzy had read aloud the note, "if Jane catches pneumonia and dies, you will be comforted in the thought that it was all for Mr. Bingley."

"She won't die, Mr. Bennet, no one ever dies of a cold."

"Mamma, I feel uneasy," began Elizabeth. "Perhaps I'd better visit Jane."

"Nonsense! The carriage is still engaged, and you can't walk down the dusty, muddy street! You won't be fit to be seen!"

"I'll be fit to see Jane, and that's all I care about. May I go, Father?"

"Yes, Lizzy, go. I think the office will be very dull today." Mr. Bennet put on his hat and coat, then walked out the door.

"We'll go up to the dressmaker's with you, Lizzy," cried Lydia and Kitty. So the three of them set off. By the time Elizabeth reached the mayor's house, her shoes were covered in mud from the street, but she face was glowing with the exercise. The mayor's family was still eating breakfast, and the servant showed her into the breakfast room.

The reactions of the various people were very characteristic. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst stared at Elizabeth's shoes. Their brother welcomed her warmly, asked if she would like some food, then, on being refused, informed her that Jane was upstairs. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Hurst said nothing - the former thinking about the lady's fine eyes, and the latter about his breakfast. Elizabeth immediately went up to her sister, but Jane was still lying feverish. Lizzy spent the rest of the morning watching her and writing in her pocketbook diary.

Volume 1, Chapter 8

Posted on Sunday, 6 February 2000

Elizabeth did not return downstairs until after dinner, when she saw Jane was sound asleep. The company was at the card table, except for Mr. Darcy, who sat writing a letter, and Miss Bingley, who sat watching him. Mrs. Hurst invited the newcomer to join them at cards, despite her husband's grumbling at having to re-deal the cards. Elizabeth declined, however, and picked up a book sitting on the coffee table.

"You prefer reading to cards?" Mr. Hurst asked, his astonishment overruling his politeness.

"Miss Eliza Bennet despises cards," replied Miss Bingley sharply. "She is a great reader, and doesn't like anything else."

"That isn't true, Miss Bingley. I am not a great reader, and I like a lot of things." With this, Lizzy opened her book and left the conversation. Miss Bingley, having nothing better to do, began to talk to Mr. Darcy about his library at Pemberley, his inheritance back East. It was obvious that Darcy did not want to talk to Miss Bingley, and soon she turned to the subject of his sister, who was being educated in St. Louis. Miss Bingley spoke about her height, grace, and accomplishments. Her brother looked up at the mention of this last.

"I don't understand it!" he said. "How are all ladies so accomplished. They cover screens, make purses, sew, paint...."

"Your definition of accomplishment is too loose, Charles. I can think of only half a dozen."

"Yes, yes," exclaimed Miss Bingley. Elizabeth looked up, grew caught in the discussion, and laid aside her book. Miss Bingley continued, trying to please Mr. Darcy. "An accomplished lady should sing, draw, dance, and know the modern languages. And she must have a certain way of walking, a certain air."

"Yes," replied Darcy, "but she must also improve her mind through extensive reading." He looked at Elizabeth when he said this, and she, feeling she was expected of a response, said,

"I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women, Mr. Darcy, I know wonder at your knowing any."

Before anyone could respond, the servant came to the door with a summons for Miss Eliza. She left immediately for Jane, and returned with the news that Jane was worse. Mr. Bingley wanted to send for Dr. Jones; his sisters believed they should send for a physician from Oregon City; but Elizabeth didn't want to impose so much, and it was agreed that if Jane was not better by morning, Dr. Jones should be sent for. The only thing she wished to so now was to write a note to her mother asking her to come see Jane.

Mrs. Bennet arrived soon after breakfast the next morning. Jane was slightly better by then, and Mrs. Bennet would not hear of her going home, since every minute with the mayor counted. Of course, she forgot to think that Mr. Bingley had seen Jane only twice since her arrival. Upon her coming downstairs, Mr. Bingley immediately wanted to know whether they should send to Oregon City. Mrs. Bennet misinterpreted his feelings, however, and thought he was slandering Dr. Jones.

"I don't see that the City has much advantage over us! Anyway, the country is much nicer to be in, isn't it, Mr. Mayor?"

"I really don't know, Mrs. Bennet. Town and country each have their advantages."

"There are some who seem to think differently!" said Mrs. Bennet, looking meaningfully at Mr. Darcy, who went to stand by the window. Elizabeth, wishing to change the subject, asked if Charlotte had been over since her departure. Mrs. Bennet managed to turn the innocent question into praise for Jane.

"When she was only 15, she stayed a while with my brother Gardiner, and a young man there was so in love with her, he wrote her some poems," Mrs. Bennet looked at the mayor, as if expecting him to spout a sonnet that moment. There was nothing to be said to this, and there was an embarrassing pause, until Mrs. Bennet began thanking Mr. Bingley for his kindness toward Jane. As they were about to leave, Lydia ran up to Mr. Bingley and asked him to give a ball.

"As soon as your sister is better," promised Bingley. "You would not want to dance when she was sick."

"No, I guess not," replied Lydia. "Maybe by then the trappers will be back in town!" Her dejected face brightened.

Volume 1, Chapter 9

Posted on Thursday, 17 February 2000

Lizzy did not like to leave her sister while there was still doubt of her recovery, but Mrs. Bennet insisted that she return home with her and Lydia. Mr. Bingley insisted that they return in his carriage, as their horses were worn out. Jane could go home in the Bennet carriage in two days, when the doctor said she would be fully recovered.

"Your father needs you in the newspaper office, Lizzy," she said on the way home, "though I didn't like to admit it in front of that awful Darcy. I wish you wouldn't work there; people can gossip horribly, you know." As Mrs. Bennet was one of the worse gossip-mongers in Meryton, Lizzy smiled and replied,

"Why does Father need me, Mother? Surely we haven't had an increase in circulation?"

"There's been a robbery at the office, Lizzy! Some say they saw the trappers going by that way, but I doubt it.... Lydia, do stop bouncing around. You'll wear out Mr. Bingley's carriage!"

"I know the trappers didn't do anything, Mamma! Everyone is prejudiced against them!"

"Not everyone, dear. Many of those trappers are quite rich, you know, and willing to settle down with a good woman." Mrs. Bennet fell back again into her usual store of gossip, and Lizzy knew that she wouldn't get anything else out of her for a couple hours. As they passed the newspaper office, she motioned for the driver to stop.

"Lizzy dear! Whatever are you doing?" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet.

"I had better go to Father. He will still be in the office." Lizzy dismounted without the aid of the footman and went in. She could hear the carriage rattle away to the house as she looked about the office. Nothing seemed to have been displaced, except the drawers of type, which had been hurriedly taken out and looked through. The little blocks of raised letters were all over the floor around the press, and Mr. Bennet was sitting in his chair with his head in his hands.

"Lizzy?" he asked without lifting his head.

"Yes, Father. What happened?"

"I don't know. I came in and...." His voice trailed off.

"Perhaps you'd like a drink, Father."

"Yes, I'll go down to the tavern. Will you mind the shop?"

"Of course."

From the way Mr. Bennet walked unsteadily out, it seemed as if he'd had a few too many already. But Lizzy didn't notice; her mind was fixed on clearing up the mess. She put on one of the printer's aprons on the hooks and started replacing the type in the drawers.

TWO HOURS LATER......

Two hours later, she was nearly finished. It was nearly four in the afternoon now; Lizzy could hear the Main Street clock, which was always a few minutes fast, striking the hour. Mr. Bennet was still not back from the drink, and she began to worry. But she knew her father. He rarely drank anything stronger than sarsaparilla, and the whiskey had probably gone straight to his head. No doubt Mrs. Bennet had picked him up long ago. The real pressing problem was who had broken into the newspaper office.

Lizzy sank into her father's thinking chair, but Mrs. Long came in before she could execute its purpose.

"Ah, Lizzy Bennet. Your father not in?"

Lizzy rose and stifled a sigh. Mrs. Long could be worse than her mother at times, but she replied evenly,

"No, Mrs. Long, I'm afraid you just missed him. He stepped out the tavern for a drink. Can I help you?"

Mrs. Long ignored the question and took issue with the sentence before. "A newsman who drinks? Not a good sign. The Ladies' Sewing Circle should take notice of that. I haven't seen you or Jane there recently, you know. Of course, if you believe the rumors...." Mrs. Long's voice trailed off significantly.

"What rumors?" demanded Lizzy.

"Oh, I'm not one to gossip, dear --" [Lizzy forced back a smile] "but seeing as how it's your own sister, I'll tell. People are commenting on her staying so long with Mr. Bingley. It's not seemly!"

"Seemly! As if Jane would ever do anything improper!" Lizzy thought. Suddenly an idea forced its way into her head, and the idea of what would ensue proved too much. "You know, Mrs. Long, just between you and me, I believe people were quite on the mark." Lizzy raised her eyebrows significantly, and Mrs. Long, who had been expecting a spirited outburst from the second Miss Bennet, was quite taken aback.

"Oh. Well, dear, I must run and mind the store!" She escaped across the street, throwing frequent backward glances at the newspaper office.

That evening was a tumultuous one at the Bennet household. Mr. Bennet had seen the postman while at the tavern, and there was a letter which had given him much surprise.

"My dears," he exclaimed partway through the evening, "I have had a letter of grave importance."

"Who from, who from?" begged the younger girls.

"It is from Mr. Bingley, I am sure," said Mrs. Bennet. "Jane, you never mentioned word of this!"

"It is not Mr. Bingley!" cried Mr. Bennet. "I never saw this man in my whole life. It is from Mr. Collins, who may turn you out of this house as soon as I am dead."

"Oh, don't talk of him! It is the hardest thing in the world, that your estate be given away from your own children to someone no one cares anything about!"

"Mother, under the law of the Territory --" began Jane patiently. She had tried to explain this law many times before; it hadn't worked then; it didn't work now. Mrs. Bennet continued to spit on and at Mr. Collins, who was represented by the fire poker.

"Do you think, Mr. Whatever-your-name-is Collins, that my girls will stand for this! No! You are a foul wasp, not fit for anything, least of all the newspaper office, which you will probably turn into a leper colony! Yes, that's it, go nurse lepers in Europe. You are urgently needed there!!!" Jane and Lizzy succeeded in calming their mother down. But not before she had bent the poker in half.

"Yes, well," said Mr. Bennet, "if you'll wait until after I read the letter, my dear, you might find your stance in this affair changed."

15th October
Dear Sir,

I am aware of the disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late father, and I have been unquiet of contacting you because of it. However, since you and my father last met, I have joined the clergy and am now in possession of a small parish in California, under the patronage of Mrs. de Bourgh, the widow of the gold rush magnate Lewis de Bourgh. She has encouraged me to establish correspondence with you. Indeed, Mrs. de Bourgh is quite a wonderful women in all respects. In that case, I propose myself the satisfaction of visiting you and your family on November 1st, and shall probably stay up till the Christmas holidays. I remain, dear sir, with humblest apologies, and greatest compliments to your lady and daughters, your well-wisher and friend,

William Collins

Mrs. Bennet had grown more and more pacified throughout the reading, and she said she felt Mr. Collins to be quite a good man. Jane did not want to issue judgment before she had met the writer in person, and the three younger daughters did not care much for the letter or its writer. Lydia and Kitty knew that he couldn't arrive with a pack of furs on his back, and Mary was interested in his parish. Lizzy, however, looked at her father questioningly.

"What is he apologizing for? Being next in line for the house and office? We can't help it is he is, that is the law. Can he be a sensible man, Father?"

"I don't think he will be, Lizzy. Anyway, we expect him next week then. Now, where is my after-dinner coffee?"

Volume 1, Chapter 10

Mr. Collins was punctual to his time. He arrived on the first day of the month of November, wearing his backward clerical collar and carrying his own suitcase. When asked why he did not hire a porter from the station, he replied piously,

"My dear Mr. Bennet, I do no believe in throwing away money on station porters. There is nothing in this trunk except what I can carry myself, as Mrs. de Bourgh insists that clergymen ought not have more worldly goods than the poorest of men, since I have bound myself to a higher calling, and will guide my ship to the highest mountain without fail."

Lizzy smiled at the mixed metaphors in his speech, but Mrs. Bennet thought that it was wonderfully said, and hadn't she heard it before, in Shakespeare or Milton. Mr. Bennet thought not.

They established Mr. Collins in the guest room, the finest one in the house, and he seemed rather satisfied. "I have spent time at Mrs. de Bourgh's grand house in the city, of course, sleeping at night in a four-poster bed with King Louis drapes, but I understand that country folks have no chance to buy such items. On the whole, I am quite satisfied."

Mr. Collins truly meant the last statement in his letter. He had been instructed by the eminent Mrs. de Bourgh to choose a wife during the time he must spend in the country. It was his idea to marry one of the Bennet girls, as a means of reconciling any hard feelings about the entail of the estate. He first picked Jane as the object of his admirations, but after a few rather overt hints from Mrs. Bennet about the probability of her being engaged before the New Year, he quickly changed his affection (and affectation as well) to Lizzy. This change of feeling occurred when Mrs. Bennet got up to stir the fire.

After that, he would follow Lizzy everywhere, professing an interest in the news-shop, in the parties given in honor of the trappers, who would spend the next six or seven months in the mountains, and even in hanging outside the ladies sewing circles. But his attention was diverted once from Lizzy, at one of the parties. He saw Mr. Darcy there, looking cold and proud and insolent, and immediately Mr. Collins left his partner alone on the floor, pushed through the dancers, and tried to strike up a conversation with the man.

"I believe you are a nephew of Mrs. Catherine de Bourgh, are you not?" he asked. Darcy looked at the obsequious little man next to him and nodded in reply.

"I work in the capacity of parson in Mrs. de Bourgh's parish. My name is William Collins. I have often had the pleasure of seeing your aunt enter the church I work at, although of course she can - and often does - hold her own services in her spacious mansion. Have you visited her house recently, sir?"

"No, I have not," replied Darcy curtly. "Excuse me." He walked off into the crowd of people, leaving Mr. Collins well-pleased at his new "friendship."

The next day, he came into the room where the Bennet women were sitting.

"My dear Mrs. Bennet, there is something...."

"Of course, of course, Mr. Collins. Come Lydia, Kitty, Mary, Jane. I require you in the kitchen immediately."

The younger three girls rose to go, but Lizzy put a hand on Jane's arm before she could get up and whispered to her,

"Do not leave me with this thing, Jane!"

"Jane Bennet! Come at once!" Mrs. Bennet called once again from the doorway. Jane looked at her sister apologetically, then followed her mother out of the room.

"My dear Cousin Elizabeth," began Mr. Collins before Lizzy could say a word, "I want to say as a beginning that your modesty does you credit. You would have been less amiable in my eyes had you not shown this little unwillingness, but I assure you, I have already spoken to your mother upon this subject, and almost as soon as I entered this beautiful house, I had singled you out for my companion in life. But before I am run away with my feelings on this subject, let me state my reasons for marrying."

Mr. Collins paused for a second here, but Lizzy was so near laughing at the idea of him being run away with his feelings that she couldn't attempt to stop him.

"I believe I have mentioned before my patroness, Mrs. Catherine de Bourgh, widow of the gold rush magnate Lewis de Bourgh. Before I came to Meryton, she urged me most insistently to choose a wife during my stay here. 'For my sake, Mr. Collins, make her a woman skilled in the finer arts, so I may ask her to spend a musical evening here on occasion; and for your own sake, make her a good cook and a superb darner of stockings.' With that good and noble advice in mind, I came to the country." Mr. Collins was apparently unaware of the sarcasm which Mrs. de Bourgh had intended in her "advice" and continued blithely on.

"I resolved to follow my patroness's advice in the matter, and as a method of relieving my own conscience, determined that the woman I should choose would be a member of the Bennet family. I am well aware of the cruelty on entail, and I am fully prepared to make amends for it. To fortune I am totally indifferent, being a member of the clergy. I know that neither you nor your sisters can offer much on that head, so I shall be silent about it after this, and no reproach shall pass my lips when we are married."

"Mr. Collins!" Lizzy cried. "You are ahead of yourself. I have not yet agreed. And I must tell you that I can never agree to your proposal." Mr. Collins blinked at her, astounded that denial was even an option.

"Oh well, my dear cousin, I know quite well that young ladies are in the habit of refusing proposals once, or even twice, from the man they fully intend to accept. I am willing to wait until you feel ready."

Lizzy was quite taken aback by this little speech. "I tell you, Mr. Collins, that I know of no such girl who would endanger her own happiness in that way, and I assure you that I am certainly not like that."

But Mr. Collins was half-way out the door, muttering, "I shall wait, dear cousin." Thoroughly annoyed, Lizzy left to her father's library, certain that his entreaties could not be mistaken for the coquetry of a flirting female.

Volume 1, Chapter 10

Mr. Collins was punctual to his time. He arrived on the first day of the month of November, wearing his backward clerical collar and carrying his own suitcase. When asked why he did not hire a porter from the station, he replied piously,

"My dear Mr. Bennet, I do no believe in throwing away money on station porters. There is nothing in this trunk except what I can carry myself, as Mrs. de Bourgh insists that clergymen ought not have more worldly goods than the poorest of men, since I have bound myself to a higher calling, and will guide my ship to the highest mountain without fail."

Lizzy smiled at the mixed metaphors in his speech, but Mrs. Bennet thought that it was wonderfully said, and hadn't she heard it before, in Shakespeare or Milton. Mr. Bennet thought not.

They established Mr. Collins in the guest room, the finest one in the house, and he seemed rather satisfied. "I have spent time at Mrs. de Bourgh's grand house in the city, of course, sleeping at night in a four-poster bed with King Louis drapes, but I understand that country folks have no chance to buy such items. On the whole, I am quite satisfied."

Mr. Collins truly meant the last statement in his letter. He had been instructed by the eminent Mrs. de Bourgh to choose a wife during the time he must spend in the country. It was his idea to marry one of the Bennet girls, as a means of reconciling any hard feelings about the entail of the estate. He first picked Jane as the object of his admirations, but after a few rather overt hints from Mrs. Bennet about the probability of her being engaged before the New Year, he quickly changed his affection (and affectation as well) to Lizzy. This change of feeling occurred when Mrs. Bennet got up to stir the fire.

After that, he would follow Lizzy everywhere, professing an interest in the news-shop, in the parties given in honor of the trappers, who would spend the next six or seven months in the mountains, and even in hanging outside the ladies sewing circles. But his attention was diverted once from Lizzy, at one of the parties. He saw Mr. Darcy there, looking cold and proud and insolent, and immediately Mr. Collins left his partner alone on the floor, pushed through the dancers, and tried to strike up a conversation with the man.

"I believe you are a nephew of Mrs. Catherine de Bourgh, are you not?" he asked. Darcy looked at the obsequious little man next to him and nodded in reply.

"I work in the capacity of parson in Mrs. de Bourgh's parish. My name is William Collins. I have often had the pleasure of seeing your aunt enter the church I work at, although of course she can - and often does - hold her own services in her spacious mansion. Have you visited her house recently, sir?"

"No, I have not," replied Darcy curtly. "Excuse me." He walked off into the crowd of people, leaving Mr. Collins well-pleased at his new "friendship."

The next day, he came into the room where the Bennet women were sitting.

"My dear Mrs. Bennet, there is something...."

"Of course, of course, Mr. Collins. Come Lydia, Kitty, Mary, Jane. I require you in the kitchen immediately."

The younger three girls rose to go, but Lizzy put a hand on Jane's arm before she could get up and whispered to her,

"Do not leave me with this thing, Jane!"

"Jane Bennet! Come at once!" Mrs. Bennet called once again from the doorway. Jane looked at her sister apologetically, then followed her mother out of the room.

"My dear Cousin Elizabeth," began Mr. Collins before Lizzy could say a word, "I want to say as a beginning that your modesty does you credit. You would have been less amiable in my eyes had you not shown this little unwillingness, but I assure you, I have already spoken to your mother upon this subject, and almost as soon as I entered this beautiful house, I had singled you out for my companion in life. But before I am run away with my feelings on this subject, let me state my reasons for marrying."

Mr. Collins paused for a second here, but Lizzy was so near laughing at the idea of him being run away with his feelings that she couldn't attempt to stop him.

"I believe I have mentioned before my patroness, Mrs. Catherine de Bourgh, widow of the gold rush magnate Lewis de Bourgh. Before I came to Meryton, she urged me most insistently to choose a wife during my stay here. 'For my sake, Mr. Collins, make her a woman skilled in the finer arts, so I may ask her to spend a musical evening here on occasion; and for your own sake, make her a good cook and a superb darner of stockings.' With that good and noble advice in mind, I came to the country." Mr. Collins was apparently unaware of the sarcasm which Mrs. de Bourgh had intended in her "advice" and continued blithely on.

"I resolved to follow my patroness's advice in the matter, and as a method of relieving my own conscience, determined that the woman I should choose would be a member of the Bennet family. I am well aware of the cruelty on entail, and I am fully prepared to make amends for it. To fortune I am totally indifferent, being a member of the clergy. I know that neither you nor your sisters can offer much on that head, so I shall be silent about it after this, and no reproach shall pass my lips when we are married."

"Mr. Collins!" Lizzy cried. "You are ahead of yourself. I have not yet agreed. And I must tell you that I can never agree to your proposal." Mr. Collins blinked at her, astounded that denial was even an option.

"Oh well, my dear cousin, I know quite well that young ladies are in the habit of refusing proposals once, or even twice, from the man they fully intend to accept. I am willing to wait until you feel ready."

Lizzy was quite taken aback by this little speech. "I tell you, Mr. Collins, that I know of no such girl who would endanger her own happiness in that way, and I assure you that I am certainly not like that."

But Mr. Collins was half-way out the door, muttering, "I shall wait, dear cousin." Thoroughly annoyed, Lizzy left to her father's library, certain that his entreaties could not be mistaken for the coquetry of a flirting female.

Volume 1, Chapter 11

Lydia burst into the shop, leaving the door wide open.

"Lizzy! Guess what happened?"

"Calm down, Lydia," replied her sister. "You are out of breath, where did you run from?"

"All the way from the Lucases. Charlotte is going to marry Mr. Collins.

"Whaat?" Lizzy jumped up from her chair in surprise. "It can't be true!"

"It is! He proposed to her this morning. No wonder he was in such a hurry to leave the house himself. And directly after he proposed to you, too. I'm sure Mamma will want to talk to you about it. She is sure to be hysterical."

"Does anyone at home know about it?"

"Do they know about it? Why, the whole town is buzzing with the news. I had better tell Jane about it, in that stuffy old school house. Goodbye, Lizzy."

"Goodbye." Lizzy shut the door after her sister and then sat again in her favorite chair. Part of her was annoyed that she should be considered so undesirable to have Mr. Collins propose to a different woman so soon, but she smiled at herself after a minute.

"If I'm not careful, I shall end up quite like Mother. I better get home now, or she'll go crazy with herself."

"Your mother needs comforting, Lizzy," said her father as she walked in the door. "She cannot stand the idea that one of the Lucas girls should have preference in this. In any case, there is one thing that Collins man has sense in: he hasn't been in the house since breakfast. As soon as he enters, your mother will tear him to shreds, and then the wedding breakfast shall turn into a funeral dinner." He smiled ruefully at his second daughter, then went to sit in the drawing room. Lizzy turned and walked upstairs into her mother's bedroom. Mrs. Bennet was sitting blankly on the bed, but the minute she saw Lizzy walk in, she jumped up and began pacing the room and gesturing violently.

"Oh, Lizzy, it is so good to see you! I was afraid you would have run yourself over under a carriage! Of course, if that idea does occur to you, after what that awful Mr. Collins has done to you, make sure it is a famous person's carriage. Not the mayor of course, for he is too nice, and it would be terrible publicity for him, especially as we all want him to be re-elected next year. Mr. Bennet will vote for him, especially as he has an eye on Jane, and if he was to leave, where would she be? Oh, my nerves, to be so agitated! I had hoped to see two of my daughters married within the year, and now, even Jane's engagement is doubtful, since you are planning to run yourself over with Mr. Bingley's carriage and get the townspeople to drum him out of town. I warn you, Lizzy, if you ruin your sister's prospects in this manner, I shall disown you from my will, and will persuade your father to do the same."

Lizzy had stood quietly against the wall during her mother's tirade, now she crossed the room to the washbasin and poured some water into the sponge used to wash the face in the mornings.

"Why, Lizzy, what are you going to do with that sponge?"

"I'm sorry, Mother, but you are getting too worked up. This is for your own good." With that, Lizzy lifted the water-heavy sponge and pegged it at her mother's face. Mrs. Bennet sat down heavily on the floor, water dripping from her face and her clothes. Lizzy looked down for one triumphant second, then walked out of the room proudly.

Volume 1, Chapter 12

"How could she do this!" Lizzy whispered fiercely to Jane at the engagement party of Mr. Collins and Charlotte Lucas. "She must know she is marrying the most idiotic man in the entire Territory. Probably in the entire country."

"Lizzy, hush, they may hear you."

"Jane, they're on the other side of the room. Poor Charlotte. How could she?"

"Lizzy, you forget. Not everyone has your values. There are such few men in Meryton, I suppose many women will marry for the sake of it, for their comfort and security, rather than for love. You of all people know that the laws of the country give no rights to a woman. She belongs exclusively to her husband."

"Terrible politicians! Their wives must be like little moles, burrowing under to safety when they should be trying to improve things for their fellow women through the influence of their husbands."

"Lizzy," said Jane after she finished laughing at the apt description, "you are a writer bred on the farm. No one else could have come up with such a comparison."

"Glad you liked it, my dear Jane."

"But really, are you becoming feministic? I have heard dreadful things about what they do back East to such women."

"Don't worry. I won't wear those ridiculous bloomers, if that's what you mean. But I think women should be given rights equal to those of men. Here, in the Territory, we women are set to work: look at Mrs. Long, so old, and yet she must run the store for her shiftless husband. And then, when she brings home the profits, what happens? He goes about town, drinking and carousing like a tramp."

"Well, publish an editorial on the matter, and forget about it tonight."

"For your sake, Jane. Look, there's Bingley coming this way."

"Good evening, Miss Jane, Miss Elizabeth," the mayor began.

"Good evening, Mr. Bingley," replied Jane.

"Miss Jane, I was wondering if... the dance... I mean.... Miss Jane, may I have the honor of this set."

"Certainly, Mr. Bingley," Jane floated away on Mr. Bingley's arm, looking like a queen with her king. Lizzy smiled and nodded time with the music. Those silly rumors going around town about the Mayor leaving in the winter were all poppycock. Why, anyone could see that she was in love with Jane, and what kind of lover leaves his sweetheart even before they become engaged? No, he would stay and marry Jane, and then the world might finally be happy

A flash of green across the room drew her attention away from castles in the air. Lydia, ever imprudent, was running by, right through the waltz, streaming some sort of banner behind her. A few trappers were trying to follow her, and soon would catch up to her. Lizzy would have gotten up to calm down her boisterous sister anyway, but something else she saw compelled it. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were sitting like pokers on the sofa nearby, watching the race through lorgnettes. A distasteful expression was rapidly spreading across Miss Bingley's face, and Lizzy knew that in a moment she would inform her brother of the improper activities of Miss Jane's younger sister. Mr. Bingley was very easily swayed by the opinions of his sisters, and probably he already had some distaste for Lydia. He might even decide to leave off his courtship of Jane.

Before she could reach her sister, however, Miss Bingley stood and went over to her brother, just as the dance finished. Jane, not knowing of Lydia's behavior, was radiant as she went over to Lizzy, who sat in grim expectation, waiting for Bingley's reaction. At first, he looked shocked, then after some prompting from his sisters, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

"Why, Lizzy, why do you look so shocked?"

"Oh, it's nothing, Jane. Let's go over to the table, I'm terribly hungry." Perhaps it was nothing after all. Certainly, Mr. Bingley did not reappear, and Lizzy was sure she knew his character better than to assume he had left without any warning. Sure enough, he was back before the end of the party and stood in the middle of the room with his hands up for silence.

"Please, everybody, listen to me for just a moment. I have a very important announcement to make." The entire room was hushed, except for Lydia. She had apparently just given up the banner she had been carrying, and cried in a loud voice, all the more audible because of the sudden hush of the room,

"Why, Denny, you'll be the death of me!" She giggled stupidly until Bingley had to ask her to please stop.

"I am afraid that urgent family business calls me to Oregon City. I must leave next week at the latest. I am not sure if I will be able to return, but if not, I promise your new mayor will be as kind as it is possible for a man to be." The little speech he had made to the crowd of men and women, but then he turned to Jane, who had gone very pale, and spoke two words: "I'm sorry."

Volume1, Chapter 13

"Oh, Lizzy, Jane, come walk with us to Aunt Phillips's house!" exclaimed Lydia one fine morning just before the Bingleys and Darcy were to leave town. "She is inviting some of the trappers over before they have to go back into the mountains. Please come!" Lydia had started whining now.

"Oh, all right," said Lizzy impatiently. "I have to go check on the newsroom anyway. There's been another break-in last night. It's getting terrible. They took the story I had written on Charlotte's wedding." For Mrs. Collins, née Charlotte Lucas, was now with her husband in his parish outside Oregon City. Mrs. de Bourgh, the rich old lady who owned the place, had insisted they not go for a wedding tour, but come straight back to the parish.

"Come on, then!" Lydia and Kitty were already outside the door, and Jane and Lizzy followed, half reluctantly.

"I do say, Mr. Bennet," said their mother as soon as they had all gone, "something is very wrong with Jane."

"Wrong, my dear? She seems a perfectly fit girl."

"Exactly. Bingley is still in the area, you know, and if he sees her smiling when he is so soon to leave town, he may decide she does not love him, and break any understanding they have."

"How nice, my dear. And when exactly is your Aunt Hepzibah coming to visit us?"

"Oooh, Mr. Bennet! You aggravate my nerves so!"

"Ah, girls!" cried Mrs. Phillips as the girls entered her house. "Gentlemen, these are my nieces, Jane Bennet and her sisters, Eliza, Kitty, and Lydia." The girls curtsied as five or six gentlemen rose from various chairs. "Girls, this is Mr. Dennys, Mr. Sandy, Mr. Haley, Mr. Murray, and Mr. Roberts." The trappers smiled and the first said,

"I believe Miss Lydia and I are already acquainted." Lydia giggled idiotically.

"And this," Mrs. Phillips continued, "is Mr. Wickham." She indicated a handsome young man in the corner. "He's a traveling salesman."

"Hello, Mr. Wickham," said Jane.

"I am delighted to be here, Miss Bennet." He was a devil when he smiled. "I believe your father runs the town newspaper, Miss Eliza. I was reading it over before you came; I especially admire this article about the plight of women in our country."

"Why, I wrote that myself," exclaimed Lizzy, surprised. Immediately, she wished she hadn't. Most men didn't approve of newswomen, and for some reason, she particularly wanted Mr. Wickham's good opinion.

"Did you? Well, if there's one thing I admire in a women, it's a good dose of sense. I agree totally with your views."

Before Lizzy had a chance to reply, Mrs. Phillips's maid entered to announce that coffee was served. The afternoon passed wonderfully for Lizzy at least; Wickham was charming without cloying, he admired her sentiments and praised her writing to Kingdom come. Finally, Jane, who had been uncomfortable through most of the visit, insisted they had overstayed their welcome, and must be getting home. To no one's surprise, the charming Mr. Wickham offered to accompany the sisters home, and they accepted.

The group of five passed out into the half-dusk and began walking down the street. Before they had gone three paces, however, a voice hailed them from behind.

"Miss Jane!"

They turned and saw the mayor riding up as hard as possible.

"Oh, I see you already have an escort home. I hope you are well?"

Before Jane could reply, Lydia cried out, "Yes, wonderful, Mr. Bingley, why are you in town?"

Darcy had ridden up unnoticed by anyone, and he replied,

"Last minute business before leaving for the City." Suddenly his eye caught Wickham's and they both colored visibly, even in the dim light of evening. Wickham was the first to recover, and removing his hat, swept Darcy an elaborate bow.

"Mr. Darcy."

Darcy nodded curtly. "Wickham." He spurred his horse and rode on. Bingley, after looking helplessly at the walking group, turned and rode after his friend. Lizzy was exceedingly puzzled by this exchange, and it must have showed on her face, because as soon as the two horsemen were out of sight, he turned to her and said,

"My father was old Mr. Darcy's steward. As a boy, I played with that same young man who just rode off. He had feelings of pride and class distinction even then, but the old man had quite paternal feelings toward me, and when he died, made his son promise to help me along in life. I particularly wanted a church position, but the present Mr. Darcy forgot his promise to his dying father, and denied me everything, except a few hundred dollars. With that money, I left Pemberley, the village I grew up, and found my way through a few different professions, ending up as you see me now, a seller of farm implements, instead of the reverend I feel sure I ought to be."

"How awful of Mr. Darcy!" exclaimed Lizzy. "I knew him to be proud and haughty, but so callous, to a boyhood friend!"

Wickham shrugged his shoulders and simply walked on, but Lizzy was not half so calm. Her blood was boiling at the injustice done to poor Mr. Wickham. How could Darcy do something like that?

"Lizzy, it is too quiet," said Lydia after a while. "Let us sing something."

So they sang all the way back to the Bennet house.

Volume 1: Chapter 14

"Lizzy, who is that good-looking young man who escorted you to the door last night? He appeared to have a rich man's air about him." Mrs. Bennet asked the next morning at breakfast.

"Mr. Wickham. He is a traveling salesman."

"Oh." Mrs. Bennet's face looked like a fallen soufflé. "No money, then?"

"I don't think so," replied Elizabeth.

"Oh, but Mamma, traveling men keep all their profits," cried Lydia. "I heard Dennys say he ought to go into that, instead of trapping."

"That settles it, Mr. Bennet. You must buy something from him, to help the poor man. What is it exactly he sells, Lizzy?"

"Farm tools, I think. Pass the bread, please, Jane."

"Farming! How perfect for you, Mr. Bennet! You have always said you loved such a profession, and you wanted to go into it since we were first married."

"I protest," her husband replied. "I never mentioned any such thing."

"Oh, well, even if you do not own a farm, it would be good to get some of these things. Keeping up with the times, you're always talking about that. Maybe we can invite him here to discuss buying tractors and things. That would be perfect. And he looks so nice, too."

"It should prove an admirable opportunity of showing a tendency to raise the bourgeoisie from their current economic state of servility to a more commodious station in life," said Mary succinctly (for her!), then went back to scientifically buttering her toast. Lydia looked at her as if she had recently landed from Bulgaria.

"Papa, let's have a ball!"

That did it. If there was one word Mr. Bennet was loath to hear, it was that one.

"No!" He threw down his paper, and the movement on the table caused an apple to roll on the end of the jam spoon, which flew through the air and landed a spoonful of raspberry jam right in the middle of Kitty's forehead. "We are not going to have a ball now, when there was just one a fortnight ago. I have a headache, I'm leaving." He picked up his hat and coat and marched to the front door. "And Kitty," he said as he turned back.

"Yes, Papa?"

"Get rid of that ridiculous jam spot in the middle of your forehead. You'll be gathering flies next."

Even though Mr. Bennet was against balls and parties, Elizabeth and Wickham managed to see a great deal of each other. His natural charm recommended him to everybody in town, especially after they heard his tragic tale about his dealings with proud and haughty Mr. Darcy.

"Isn't it a shame?" whispered Mrs. Long at the sewing circle meeting. "That young man would have made a splendid minister, and look what the idiot Darcy has done to him."

"Aunt Bertha," said one of her nieces, "you can't forget that Mr. Darcy still has all that money to his credit, while Wickham has none." But instead of bringing realism into the picture, the girl's statement only fired up the romanticism of the elders.

"And you, Mrs. Bennet, you're the luckiest of us," continued Mrs. Long. Imagine, young Lizzy is so fancied by Mr. Wickham. And Jane is nearly engaged to Mr. Bingley. It's a shame he had to leave town."

"I heard it was all an invention," replied Mrs. Bennet. "Someone told me that Mr. Darcy wrote the letter summoning Mr. Bingley himself. Imagine, to treat your own friend that way." She had forgotten to keep her voice down, and it floated right out the window to where Lizzy and Wickham were walking in the garden.

"It's quite true, you know." Wickham said, not the least bit embarrassed. "Except his sister, Mrs. Hurst, wrote the letter, but Darcy was the one who came up with the scheme and posted it."

"I can quite believe it of him!" declared Elizabeth vehemently. "The more I know of that man or his doings, the more I wish I'd never heard of him. He's practically inhuman."

"Lizzy! Lizzy!" Kitty came flying down the path from the post office. "There's a letter for you, from Charlotte."

"Oh, good Charlotte! I haven't heard from her since she was married. Will you -"

"Of course," said Wickham graciously. "Come, Catherine, let me escort you inside." Kitty blushed beet-red, but took the arm he offered and went in. Elizabeth smiled at her sister's confusion; people rarely showed an interest in spineless Kitty. Then she sat on the garden bench and opened Charlotte's letter.

March 10th

Rosings

Dear Lizzy,

Forgive me for not having written to you earlier. Being the wife of a parson is by no means easy. I hope you and your family are all well, especially your father. Tell him to scout round for another reporter; I am sure he'll find one easily.

My reason for writing to you is as follows. You know my husband is under the patronage of one Mrs. de Bourgh, the widow of one of the men made rich back in '49. She has requested especially that you come down and visit her: Mr. Collins has told her much about you and she is interested in seeing this "nouveau femme." As my father and Maria are coming down during Easter to visit me, I thought you might also oblige at this time.

I must warn you, Lizzy, if you do come, how you must act. Mrs. de Bourgh is very much against feminism. In fact, she has been cold to me ever since, upon her asking me what I did before my marriage, I replied I was the star reporter in your father's paper. She has more of an old-fashioned leaning, and has brought up her only daughter to be accomplished at all the arts: drawing, painting, piano-playing, and the like. The only thing I haven't seen Anne de Bourgh do yet is read a book beyond the Bible.

In fact, Anne de Bourgh is a distant cousin to Mr. Darcy, and she looks exactly like him. They have been betrothed since the cradle, and you ought to come, just to look at the future Mrs. Darcy. I won't describe her, you must see her.

Please come with my father and sister, Lizzy. Things are getting dull, and I long to laugh about the townspeople of Meryton like we used to.

Yours ever,

Charlotte Collins

"Poor Charlotte," thought Lizzy when she had finished the letter. "I'll go to keep her spirits up. And I must confess, I'm rather interested in this future wife of the haughty Mr. Darcy."

With a smile spreading across her face, she went back in to write a reply to her friend's letter.

Volume 2, Chapter 1

William Lucas, his daughter, Maria, and their friend Elizabeth Bennet were sitting comfortably in the train bound for Hunsford Station. Mr. Lucas was pretending to read his newspaper, but was really watching the woman across the aisle; Maria was sleeping in her seat; and Lizzy was watching the countryside fly past. It's really marvelous, she thought, what these modern things can do. Who would believe part of the Transcontinental Railroad would end up in this part of the country?

The train was slowing now: they were coming to a station. She strained to read the sign: Wittaker. Another hour at least before they reached Hunsford. We probably won't be settled at Charlotte's house before dark.

Mr. Lucas flung down his paper impatiently and Lizzy looked up at him. She turned to follow his gaze, then smiled when she realized why he looked so furious. The woman he had been watching had just gotten off at Wittaker, and was hugging a young man, most likely her husband. They both looked incredibly happy to see each other. Mr. Lucas, on the other hand, looked like a soggy piece of moldy old bread.

"Do you think Charlotte will meet us at the station, Mr. Lucas?" she asked with barely concealed amusement.

"Ahem." He cleared his throat unnaturally. "Highly unlikely. But she did write that Mrs. de Bourgh would be sending a trap around to welcome us. Here we're moving again. Deuce short time these trains stand still, don't you agree. I ought to write and complain to the President. I met him once, you know...." Mr. Lucas launched into the tale of his meeting with President Lincoln, years before. Lizzy leaned her head back against the seat weakly and looked down at Maria. She at least was asleep, and didn't have to listen to her father's prattle.

Mr. Lucas was just to the climax of his story (he had just spilled punch down the president's shirt front and was apologizing and rubbing the stain into the fabric with his wife's gloves) when they pulled up at Hunsford. It was already dark, and the one lamp hanging by the ticket master's office did nothing to reassure Lizzy. She was starting to feel goose bumps all down her arm - not a pleasant feeling. Then she spied a straw cart waiting at by the train.

"Mr. Lucas, that isn't by any chance the trap Mrs. de Bourgh was going to send, is it?"

Mr. Lucas snorted vigorously and replied, "I should say not! Why, Charlotte writes that Mrs. de Bourgh is sending a trap, a proper carriage!" He blustered on and searched for his daughter's letter.

"Oy!" The man standing next to the cart had seen them by now and was walking over. "Mis'er Lucas?"

"Yes," replied Mr. Lucas shortly. "Get away, I'm looking for a carriage to convey me, my daughter, and my daughter's friend to Rosings."

"Tha's it, then." He had a slurring around his voice, and Elizabeth, who was standing right next to him, caught the pungent smell on his breath. "I be Tom, the g'oom."

"I beg your pardon, the goom?"

"Yeah. I be in charge of all the `orses and stuffs. Mrs. de Bourgh says yer to come in tha' there car'." He pointed slightly to the left of the straw cart.

"Are you to be our driver then? Come along, Miss Eliza," William Lucas always was a trusting sort of man; he picked up his bag and followed Tom the groom to his cart. Maria, wide-eyed from wonder and trying to stay awake, walked after her father in a sort of daze. Only Elizabeth felt any kind of apprehension in Tom's state of mind and his ability to drive them across the country roads.

They reached Rosings alive, at least, though much worse for the journey. Mr. Collins was already asleep when they arrived, but Charlote was sitting up reading, waiting for them. Maria and Elizabeth were installed in one guest bedroom and Mr. Lucas in another, and all three of them fell promptly asleep, exhausted with the day's journey.

Elizabeth was up early the next morning, but not so early as her friend Charlotte, who was down in the kitchen making breakfast when Elizabeth entered.

"Charlotte! It is only five in the morning!"

"Mr. Collins likes to breakfast early now it is warmer weather. It allows him to take a turn in the garden afterwards, before it gets too hot. I encourage him to pay as much attention to his garden as is possible, you know," replied Charlotte, not looking up from the fire. She hadn't changed much in the few months she had been married, still the same kind, plain face, and her hair, always unruly, was escaping the cap she wore and threatened to fly right into Mr. Collins's soup.

"And you, Lizzy? Why are you up so early?"

"Oh, I never like to sleep very late in a new place. I like getting up in time to see the sunrise if I can, even at home."

They talked of little things for nearly an hour: Charlotte asked about her friend's family, and Elizabeth about Charlotte's new situation. Finally, as the clock in the hall struck six, Mr. Collins came down, followed by his father-in-law and sister-in-law.

"Ah, dear cousin Elizabeth!" he cried on seeing her. "How good of you to come in answer to my dear Charlotte's wishes. You have a fine prospect before you today." He stood waiting in the kitchen with the expression of a man who feels he has information which will astound the household. "I have reason to believe," he began, "that - but no, I promised not to tell. You shall find out soon enough. My dear Charlotte, have you breakfast ready?"

All through the meal Mr. Collins chattered incessantly, until Elizabeth was reminded of a squirrel Lydia had had when she was young. It lived quite a long life - until it was run over by a carriage wheel one day while trying to cross the street.

"Whenever we dine with Mrs. de Bourgh," he was saying, "I make it a point to pay compliments regularly. For example, 'How lovely your new dress is looking tonight, Mrs. de Bourgh.' I find that such prefabricated compliments, easily used in every situation, must be practiced to give verisimilitude, but they are capable of giving the receiver great gratification. Do you not agree, Mr. Lucas?"

"Eh?" Mr. Lucas had been hard at work on his poached egg and hadn't heard a word.

"I said..." Mr. Collins repeated the entire speech for his father-in-law's benefit.

"Quite, quite. My dear, these eggs are wonderful."

"Thank you, Father."

So passed the meal, Mr. Collins monopolizing conversation and the others trying to understand what he said without the aid of a dictionary. Afterwards, Mr. Collins and Mr. Lucas went around the garden, Maria went upstairs to explore the house, and Charlotte and Elizabeth sat in the parlor and talked. They hadn't gotten very far when Maria burst downstairs as fast as she could.

"Charlotte, Eliza, you'll never guess what's happened! Come to the window, quick!" They both hurriedly got up and went to the parlor window.

"Good heavens, Maria," said Elizabeth after looking out, "I thought at least the pigs had got into the garden! It is only two ladies in a carriage!" Charlotte, however, was flying around, straightening her cap, and tucking away flyaway bits of hair. Composing herself, she went out to talk to the ladies in the carriage, while Maria and Elizabeth watched from the window.

"Don't you see?" hissed Maria. "It is Anne de Bourgh, Mrs. de Bourgh's only daughter, and her nurse, Mrs. Jenkinson."

"Anne de Bourgh!" said Elizabeth in surprise. She looked again. Both of the ladies were sallow and plain, and one of them was decidedly old, at least 70 years. The other had such an obstinate expression on her face to make her look incredibly disagreeable. "She is abominably rude to keep Charlotte out in such a wind. But yes, I think she will make him a fine wife." She smiled to herself.

"Who, Lizzy?" asked Maria.

Mr. Collins saw the two ladies and was hurrying toward them. They didn't talk to him long, but when he came inside, his face was glowing.

"Was I not right!" he gloated. "Miss de Bourgh has just informed me that we are to dine at her mother's house tonight! Is that not fine! Now, Cousin Elizabeth, you will see an shining example of true finery."

Continued In Next Section