“A most absurd and preposterous sentiment,” answered Mrs. Bennet warmly; “how abhorrent from justice, from common sense, and from humanity--but how extremely incongruous with a religion which professes to know no difference of degree, but ranks all mankind on the footing of brethren! Of all kinds of pride, there is none so unchristian as that of station; in reality, there is none so contemptible. Contempt, indeed, may be said to be its own object; for my own part, I know none so despicable as those who despise others.” “I do assure you,” said Amelia, “you speak my own sentiments. I give you my word, I should not be ashamed of being the wife of an honest man in any station.--Nor if I had been much higher than I was, should I have thought myself degraded by calling our honest serjeant my husband.” “Since you have made this declaration,” cries Mrs. Bennet, “I am sure you will not be offended at a secret I am going to mention to you.” “Indeed, my dear,” answered Amelia, smiling, “I wonder rather you have concealed it so long; especially after the many hints I have given you.” “Nay, pardon me, madam,” replied the other; “I do not remember any such hints; and, perhaps, you do not even guess what I am going to say. My secret is this; that no woman ever had so sincere, so passionate a lover, as you have had in the serjeant.” “I a lover in the serjeant!--I!” cries Amelia, a little surprized. “Have patience,” answered the other;--“I say, you, my dear. As much surprized as you appear, I tell you no more than the truth; and yet it is a truth you could hardly expect to hear from me, especially with so much good-humour; since I will honestly confess to you.--But what need have I to confess what I know you guess already?--Tell me now sincerely, don’t you guess?” “I guess, indeed, and hope,” said she, “that he is your husband.” “He is, indeed, my husband,” cries the other; “and I am most happy in your approbation. In honest truth, you ought to approve my choice; since you was every way the occasion of my making it. What you said of him very greatly recommended him to my opinion; but he endeared himself to me most by what he said of you. In short, I have discovered that he hath always loved you with such a faithful, honest, noble, generous passion, that I was consequently convinced his mind must possess all the ingredients of such a passion; and what are these but true honour, goodness, modesty, bravery, tenderness, and, in a word, every human virtue?--Forgive me, my dear; but I was uneasy till I became myself the object of such a passion.” “And do you really think,” said Amelia, smiling, “that I shall forgive you robbing me of such a lover? or, supposing what you banter me with was true, do you really imagine you could change such a passion?”