is it you mean?” “It is a circumstance which Darcy could not wish to be generally known, because if it were to get round to the lady's family, it would be an unpleasant thing.” “You may depend upon my not mentioning it.” “And remember that I have not much reason for supposing it to be Bingley. What he told me was merely this: that he congratulated himself on having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a most imprudent marriage, but without mentioning names or any other particulars, and I only suspected it to be Bingley from believing him the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort, and from knowing them to have been together the whole of last summer.” “Did Mr. Darcy give you reasons for this interference?” “I understood that there were some very strong objections against the lady.” “And what arts did he use to separate them?” “He did not talk to me of his own arts,” said Fitzwilliam, smiling. “He only told me what I have now told you.” Elizabeth made no answer, and walked on, her heart swelling with indignation. After watching her a little, Fitzwilliam asked her why she was so thoughtful. “I am thinking of what you have been telling me,” said she. “Your cousin's conduct does not suit my feelings. Why was he to be the judge?” “You are rather disposed to call his interference officious?” “I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his friend's inclination, or why, upon his own judgement alone, he was to determine and direct in what manner his friend was to be happy. But,” she continued, recollecting herself, “as we know none of the particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed that there was much affection in the case.” “That is not an unnatural surmise,” said Fitzwilliam, “but it is a lessening of the honour of my cousin's triumph very sadly.” This was spoken jestingly; but it appeared to her so just a picture of Mr. Darcy, that she would not trust herself with an answer, and theref