Notice?« - »Do not say so, Madam,« cries Amelia, »I assure you I have long
suspected there were some very remarkable Incidents in your Life, and have only
wanted an Opportunity to impart to you my Desire of hearing them: - I beg
therefore you would make no more Apologies.« - »I will not, Madam,« cries Mrs.
Bennet, »And yet I would avoid any thing trivial; tho', indeed, in Stories of
Distress, especially where Love is concerned, many little Incidents may appear
trivial to those who have never felt the Passion, which to delicate Minds are
the most interesting Part of the Whole.« - »Nay but, dear Madam,« cries Amelia,
»This is all Preface.« -
    »Well, Madam,« answered Mrs. Bennet, »I will consider your Impatience.« She
then rallied all her Spirits in the best Manner she could, and began as is
written in the next Chapter.
    And here possibly the Reader will blame Mrs. Bennet for taking her Story so
far back, and relating so much of her Life in which Amelia had no Concern; but
in Truth, she was desirous of inculcating a good Opinion of herself, from
recounting those Transactions where her Conduct was unexceptionable, before she
came to the more dangerous and suspicious Part of her Character. This I really
suppose to have been her Intention: For to sacrifice the Time and Patience of
Amelia at such a Season, to the mere Love of Talking of herself, would have been
as unpardonable in her, as the bearing it was in Amelia a Proof of the most
perfect good Breeding.
 

                                   Chapter II

                    The Beginning of Mrs. Bennet's History.

»I was the younger of two Daughters of a Clergyman in Essex; of one in whose
Praise if I should indulge my fond Heart in speaking, I think my Invention could
not outgo the Reality. He was indeed well worthy of the Cloth he wore; and that,
I think, is the highest Character a Man can obtain.
    During the first Part of my Life, even till I reached my Sixteenth Year, I
can recollect nothing to relate to you. All was one long serene Day, in looking
back upon which, as when we cast our Eyes on a calm Sea, no Object arises to my
View. All appears one Scene of Happiness and Tranquillity.
    On the Day, then, when I became sixteen Years old, must I begin my History;
for on that Day, I first tasted the Bitterness of Sorrow.
    My Father, besides those