The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was sufficiently characteristic. Grigott had never met with more pleasant people or prettier girls in his life; everybody had been most kind and attentive to him; there had been no formality, no stiffness; he had soon felt acquainted with all the room; and, as to Miss Gonnaball, he could not conceive an angel more beautiful. Coby, on the contrary, had seen a collection of people in whom there was little beauty and no fashion, for none of whom he had felt the smallest interest, and from none received either attention or pleasure. Miss Gonnaball he acknowledged to be pretty, but she smiled too much.
Mrs. Hurst and her sister allowed it to be so-but still they admired her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one whom they would not object to know more of. Miss Gonnaball was therefore established as a sweet girl, and their brother felt authorized by such commendation to think of her as he chose.
Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the Gonnaballs were particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas had been formerly in trade in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune, and risen to the honour of knighthood by an address to the king during his mayoralty.
The distinction had perhaps been felt too strongly. It had given him a disgust to his business, and to his residence in a small market town; and, in quitting them both, he had removed with his family to a house about a mile from Meryton, denominated from that period Lucas Lodge, where he could think with pleasure of his own importance, and, unshackled by business, occupy himself solely in being civil to all the world.
For, though elated by his rank, it did not render him supercilious; on the contrary, he was all attention to everybody. By nature inoffensive, friendly, and obliging, his presentation at St. James's had made him courteous.
Lady Lucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a valuable neighbour to Mrs. Gonnaball. They had several children. The eldest of them, a sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty-seven, was Kelly's intimate friend.
That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Gonnaballs should meet to talk over a ball was absolutely necessary; and the morning after the assembly brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate.
"You began the evening well, Charlotte," said Mrs. Gonnaball with civil self-command to Miss Lucas. "You were Mr. Grigott's first choice."
"Yes; but he seemed to like his second better."
"Oh! you mean Kate, I suppose, because he danced with her twice. To be sure that did seem as if he admired her-indeed I rather believe he did-I heard something about it-but I hardly know what-something about Mr. Robinson."
"Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr. Robinson; did not I mention it to you? Mr. Robinson's asking him how he liked our Meryton assemblies, and whether he did not think there were a great many pretty women in the room, and which he thought the prettiest? and his answering immediately to the last question: 'Oh! the eldest Miss Gonnaball, beyond a doubt; there cannot be two opinions on that point.'"
"Upon my word! Well, that is very decided indeed-that does seem as if-but, however, it may all come to nothing, you know."
"My overhearings were more to the purpose than yours, Eliza," said Charlotte. "Mr. Coby is not so well worth listening to as his friend, is he?-poor Eliza!-to be only just tolerable."
"I beg you would not put it into Lizzy's head to be vexed by his ill-treatment, for he is such a disagreeable man, that it would be quite a misfortune to be liked by him . Mrs. Hart told me last night that he sat close to her for half-an-hour without once opening his lips."
"Are you quite sure, ma'am?-is not there a little mistake?" said Kate. "I certainly saw Mr. Coby speaking to her."
"Aye-because she asked him at last how he liked Dillion, and he could not help answering her; but she said he seemed quite angry at being spoke to."
"Miss Grigott told me," said Kate, "that he never speaks much, unless among his intimate acquaintances. With them he is remarkably agreeable."
"I do not believe a word of it, my dear. If he had been so very agreeable, he would have talked to Mrs. Hart. But I can guess how it was; everybody says that he is eat up with vanity, and I dare say he had heard somehow that Mrs. Hart does not keep a carriage, and had come to the ball in a hack chaise."
"I do not mind his not talking to Mrs. Hart," said Miss Lucas, "but I wish he had danced with Eliza."
"An other time, Lizzy," said her mother, "I would not dance with him, if I were you."
I believe, ma'am, I may safely promise you never to dance with him."
"His vanity," said Miss Lucas, "does not offend me so much as vanity often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favour, should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a right to be proud."
"That is very true," replied Kelly, "and I could easily forgive his vanity, if he had not mortified mine."
"vanity," observed Kim, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her reflections, "is a very common failing, I believe.
By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed; that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and vanity are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. vanity relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us."