orgot
nothing--down to the marriage of Kitty to a clergyman near Pemberley,
and that of Mary to one of Uncle Philips's clerks.

In this work there seemed to be hardly anything for which she need
apologise. Here everything is complete; the humour, though brilliant, is
yet always subordinate to the progress of the story; the plot is
inevitable, and its turning-point (the first proposal of Darcy) occurs
exactly when it ought; while all fear of a commonplace ending is avoided
by the insertion of the celebrated interview between Lady Catherine and
Elizabeth. It gives us also an excellent example of the way in which
Jane Austen composed her stories. We are always in the confidence of the
heroine, who is hardly off the stage throughout the whole novel; we see
the other characters with her eyes, even when they are persons--like
Jane Bennet--with whom we believe ourselves to be intimately acquainted.
At the same time, such is the subtle irony of the author that we are
quite aware of her intention to make us understand more of the heroine's
state of mind than the heroine herself does, and to distinguish between
her conscious and unconscious thoughts. Elizabeth has to change from
hatred to love--real hatred and real love--in a volume and a half. But
it would wound her self-respect if she acknowledged to herself that the
pace at which she moved was so rapid; and the change is constantly only
half admitted. Even near the end--when she says that, if Darcy is
prevented from seeking her hand by the representations of Lady
Catherine, she shall soon cease to regret him--we know that this is far
from the truth: that her affection is really steadfast, and that she is
only trying to disguise from herself her own anxiety. Other examples
might easily be found.

On April 25, 1813, occurred the death of Eliza, Henry Austen's wife. She
had suffered from a long and painful illness, and the end was 'a release
at last.' These circumstances would diminish the grief felt at her loss;
but the event must have carried their minds back to early days at
Steventon; and Jane was sure to remember with gratitude the affection
and attention which Eliza had bestowed upon her much younger cousin.

Soon afterwards, Henry went down to Chawton; and on May 20 he drove Jane
up to London in his curricle. This was a short visit, and, owing to
Henry's being in deep mourning, no theatres were visited. Jane went,
however, to three picture-galleries--her mind still full