«
    Elizabeth disdained the appearance of noticing this civil reflection, but
its meaning did not escape, nor was it likely to conciliate her.
    »But it is not merely this affair,« she continued, »on which my dislike is
founded. Long before it had taken place, my opinion of you was decided. Your
character was unfolded in the recital which I received many months ago from Mr.
Wickham. On this subject, what can you have to say? In what imaginary act of
friendship can you here defend yourself? or under what misrepresentation, can
you here impose upon others?«
    »You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns,« said Darcy in a
less tranquil tone, and with a heightened colour.
    »Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an interest
in him?«
    »His misfortunes!« repeated Darcy contemptuously; »yes, his misfortunes have
been great indeed.«
    »And of your infliction,« cried Elizabeth with energy. »You have reduced him
to his present state of poverty, comparative poverty. You have withheld the
advantages, which you must know to have been designed for him. You have deprived
the best years of his life, of that independence which was no less his due than
his desert. You have done all this! and yet you can treat the mention of his
misfortunes with contempt and ridicule.«
    »And this,« cried Darcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room, »is
your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for
explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy
indeed! But perhaps,« added he, stopping in his walk, and turning towards her,
»these offences might have been overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my
honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious
design. These bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I with greater
policy concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my being
impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination; by reason, by reflection, by
every thing. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor am I ashamed of
the feelings I related. They were natural and just. Could you expect me to
rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? To congratulate myself on the
hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?«
    Elizabeth felt herself growing more angry every moment; yet she tried to the
utmost to speak with composure when she said,
