"We were born in the same parish, within the same park; the
greatest part of our youth was passed together; inmates of the
same house, sharing the same amusements, objects of the same
parental care. My father began life in the profession which
your uncle, Mr. Phillips, appears to do so much credit to--but
he gave up everything to be of use to the late Mr. Darcy and
devoted all his time to the care of the Pemberley property.
He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most intimate,
confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged himself
to be under the greatest obligations to my father's active
superintendence, and when, immediately before my father's
death, Mr. Darcy gave him a voluntary promise of providing for
me, I am convinced that he felt it to be as much a debt of
gratitude to him, as of his affection to myself."
"How strange!" cried Elizabeth. "How abominable! I wonder
that the very pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to
you! If from no better motive, that he should not have been too
proud to be dishonest--for dishonesty I must call it."
"It is wonderful," replied Wickham, "for almost all his actions
may be traced to pride; and pride had often been his best friend.
It has connected him nearer with virtue than with any other
feeling. But we are none of us consistent, and in his behaviour
to me there were stronger impulses even than pride."
"Can such abominable pride as his have ever done him good?"