“Life’s opportunities missed,” faltered Darcy, who now began to apply this to himself. Could the Spirit be talking of Elizabeth?

Wringing its hands, the Ghost cried out, “Pemberley. The common welfare of its tenants—charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence—are all very easy at Pemberley. But elsewhere, Fitzwilliam? Have you shown these qualities elsewhere?”

“I try, sir,” Darcy replied, shaken.

“Did you try in Hertfordshire? Did you show charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence there, Fitzwilliam?” Darcy was forced to shake his head, for he had not.

The spirit held up the iron chain and flung it down heavily.

“Hear me!” cried the Ghost. “My time is nearly gone.”

“I will,” said Darcy. “But do not be too hard upon me, Father!”

“How it is that I appear before you in a shape that you can see, I may not tell. I have sat invisible beside you many and many a day.”

It was an agreeable idea. Darcy had often wished for his father’s advice when making decisions.

“That is no light part of my penance,” pursued the Ghost. “I have been watching you come to this precipice, and I am aware that part of it is my own doing and I must suffer for it. As a child, I taught you what was right, but I did not teach you to correct your temper. I gave you good principles but left you to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately, as my only son—for many years my only child—I spoilt you; allowed, encouraged, almost taught you to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond your own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with your own. That is why I wear this heavy chain. I am here tonight to warn you that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping your fate. A chance and hope not just of my procuring, Fitzwilliam, but of others’, who also have your welfare at heart.”