“Upon my word, sir,” cried Elizabeth, “your hope is rather an extraordinary one after my declaration!  I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time.  I am perfectly serious in my refusal.  You could not make me happy; and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who would make you so.  Nay; were your friend, Lady Catherine, to know me, I am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the situation.”

“Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so——­” said Mr. Collins, very gravely.  “But I cannot imagine that her ladyship would at all disapprove of you.  And you may be certain that when I have the honour of seeing her again, I shall speak in the highest terms of your modesty, economy, and other amiable qualifications.”

Twice more was Mr. Collins refused, and even then he would not take “No” for an answer.

“You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin,” said he, “that your refusals of my addresses are merely words, of course.  My reasons for believing it are chiefly these.  It does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly desirable.  My situation in life, my connections with the family of De Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are circumstances highly in my favour; and you should take it into further consideration that, in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made to you.  Your portion is unhappily so small that it will, in all likelihood, undo the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications.  As I must, therefore, conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I shall choose to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females.”

“I do assure you, sir,” said Elizabeth, “that I have no pretensions whatever to that kind of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man.  I would rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere.  I thank you again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but to accept them is absolutely impossible.  My feelings in every respect forbid it.  Can I speak plainer?  Do not consider me now as an elegant female intending to plague you, but as a rational creature speaking the truth from her heart.”

“You are uniformly charming,” said he, with an air of awkward gallantry; “and I am persuaded that, when sanctioned by the express authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will be acceptable.”

IV.—­Darcy Loves and Loses