"It is one of the things I have found most charming in Miss Bennet's character, sir," replied Morland, "that she would not easily give her heart away, or readily suppose a man to be enslaved by her. No one else could have failed to perceive the depth of my admiration, but she has seemed quite unconscious of it, though at the same time I am fully aware that there is no brilliancy or distinction about me, nothing to attract anyone who herself possesses a full measure of those qualities."
He looked so downcast that Mr. Bennet remarked: "If that were the question, Mr. Morland, you might set your mind at rest, for my daughter, though a very good girl, is not brilliant, nor would she be comfortable with a husband of that description."
This observation inspired Mr. Morland to a fairly long speech, in which he extolled Kitty's amiable qualities and dwelt on his own demerits, but notwithstanding the contrast thereby presented, he was able to deduce a number of excellent reasons for his being allowed to propose to Miss Bennet without delay. Mr. Bennet heard him in silence, and at the end replied that, though flattered by Mr. Morland's first referring to him, who was merely the father of the young lady, he could not answer for his daughter's sentiments; he had found that in these matters his girls had always made up their own minds, and no doubt would continue to do so.
"Indeed, yes, it is with Miss Bennet that I must plead my own cause; but you will not refuse me your sanction?" said the young man, eagerly. "You think so far favourably of my suit that you will place no bar in the way of my—I trust I may in time say our perfect happiness?"
"No, Mr. Morland, the way to your perfect happiness is open as far as I am concerned," replied Mr. Bennet, taking up a book.
Morland's satisfaction at having the father even passively on his side was very great, and he spoke his gratitude very warmly, mingling with it such praises of Kitty, and such rosy prognostications of the future, as caused Mr. Bennet to reply, in characteristic fashion: "Let me know when the time comes to wish you joy, Mr. Morland, and I will do it, but life is so uncertain that I think for the present I had better refrain. Have you ascertained whether Kitty can cook, make her own gowns, and trim hats? I understand it is a great promoter of married happiness when the wife can do so, and I am not sure whether all my girls have turned their education to such good account."
Mr. Morland only replied by asking if he might be allowed to see Miss Bennet at once, and her father left the room, foreseeing that, whatever happened, he should not have one more quiet hour during that day. His anticipations were soon in the way to be fulfilled, for on finding his daughters, and sending Kitty to the library, he had to give Jane an outline of what had just passed, then repeat it to Bingley, who joined them, and listened to their exclamations of surprise, and regret at the probable downfall of Mr. Morland's hopes. Jane and Bingley were both too convinced of Kitty's prior attachment to have the slightest expectation of his success, and Mr. Bennet was put in full possession of the facts relating to it, while they anxiously awaited the termination of the interview.
It came, after some minutes, in a glimpse of Kitty emerging from the library and hurrying upstairs with streaming eyes, and while they all debated as to their next move, Mr. Morland was seen to cross the hall rapidly, looking nowhere but in front of him, and leave the house with precipitation. Jane herself, almost equally distressed, longed to go to Kitty, and Bingley questioned whether he ought not to hasten after the young man, while Mr. Bennet was disposed to think they would be better left to themselves for a time, and wished heartily that there were only just enough lovers in the world to go round, one to each young lady, and none over.
In spite of this, Jane was not long in finding her way to her agitated sister and in showing her the tenderest consideration. Kitty's distress was very great, and also very sincere, for she had in truth been far from guessing that Mr. Morland took a more than common interest in her, and as is usual in such cases, the declaration of the young man's love woke in her feelings which she had not known to exist, of reciprocal kindness and even affection, which only did not share the nature and strength of his. Kitty could never have been hard-hearted to any lover, least of all to one whom she liked as much as she did James Morland, and his devotion touched her as deeply as the knowledge that she could not accept it wounded her. Between regrets for what had happened, pity for him and for herself, and the excited thoughts of William Price which the incident itself was bound to evoke, she was in a sad state, and Jane easily prevailed upon her to have her dinner upstairs and go early to bed. Not so easily could she check the tears which flowed continuously, and Jane, to occupy her mind and body, proposed that she should go to-morrow to Pemberley, instead of in three days' time, as arranged; she could very well be sent over, and the change would be beneficial; besides, she was not really leaving them, for there was the November visit to look forward to. Kitty caught at the suggestion, and declining the offices of the maid, began to busy herself about her packing, as Jane hoped she would do, while the latter descended to consult with her husband and father.
Mr. Bennet and Bingley both approved, and Jane hastily wrote a few lines to Elizabeth to apprise her of what had happened, that she might be prepared for Kitty's arrival. The two gentlemen walked to the nearest post town to convey the letter; and after dinner the indefatigable Bingley again set out, this time to the Rectory, to perform the same kind office by James Morland as his wife had been doing by Kitty. The young man, though calmer, proved far more unreceptive of consolation. He had felt his rebuff acutely, for Kitty had been too much taken by surprise, too sure of herself, to make it otherwise than decisive, and even the modest hopes he had ventured to entertain, of being able to make more progress with her once the subject was opened between them, had been most thoroughly dispelled. Miss Bennet would not hear another word of it—begged him never to speak of it again—with tears reproached him for having spoilt everything, so that in addition to his own disappointment he had the pain of feeling that she thought less well of him than before. Bingley could deny this, but could not affirm anything else likely to give him comfort. It remained for Morland himself to declare, which he did in a firm though melancholy tone, that he regretted having distressed Miss Bennet, and would endeavour so to meet her in the future that she would not suffer through being reminded of it by any act of word of his. Bingley commended his courage, told him of Kitty's departure, and begged him to continue coming to Desborough just the same; and walked home with a full report of what had just passed.