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"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 everything. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor

am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and

just.