"Public collections!" interrupted the Admiral (I could wish, Sophia, that the dear man would not interrupt when persons of consideration are speaking). "They are an encroachment by the lower orders, on all accounts to be resisted. What? Are private treasures to be exhibited to their pawings and ignorance? No, Mr Darcy! Preserve the Ivory Shrine as an heirloom, and let those who would engage the votes of the vulgar be--"
I will not record the end of the sentence. Mrs Darcy apologised for her daughters not waiting upon me by mentioning that they had a prior engagement with Mrs Collins, relative to a treat for the village school in honour of Mr Darcy's natal day.
"I bespeak your kindness for them, my dear Madam," she was pleased to say. "My elder, Charlotte, has a strong taste for sketching and music, in both of which I am aware you excel. Rumour, as you see, has preceded you with her trumpet! Caroline is more studious. We hope, when your son is here on leave, that many little pleasure parties and balls may be made up. My young people and all those of the neighbourhood are excessively fond of dancing."
I protested this was a taste my Henry shared, and was very sensible of her attention. Indeed, Sophia, I trust you will not set me down as a Mrs Busybody (a character I detest) if I say that certain possibilities flashed across my mind at the moment. No young man can be more attractive nor stronger in moral principle than Henry, and if these young women--But I need say no more! Miss Darcy is so great an heiress as to be an object to many.
"You have met Mr Collins as well as his wife, I conclude?" she added smiling.
"We have had that distinction!" I said, and could not forbear smiling also.
"A worthy man! But there are peculiarities of manner. His discourses are always adapted to the occasion, and his allusions--He will, no doubt, tomorrow refer to your arrival in his sermon."
"My dear Mrs Darcy," said I, much alarmed, "have you any real reason to suppose this? I have never been the object of public comment. And the Admiral! I trust you are mistaken."
"I may be," she replied archly; "but can only say that the Sunday after we settled at Rosings, Mr Collins preached from the text, 'Who is this that cometh from Edom, with dyed garments from Bozrah,' and made it very clear that Mr Darcy was that individual."
I could only gaze at her in dismay, but was obliged to check my impulse of consulting the Admiral, lest he should take some compromising step as regards Mr Collins, who might be entirely innocent of such an intention.