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"Oh, certainly," said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity;

"we will ask you no questions."

"Thank you," said Lydia; "for if you did, I should certainly tell

you all, and then Wickham would be so angry."

On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was forced to put it out

of her power, by running away.

But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or at

least it was impossible not to try for information. Mr. Darcy had

been at her sister's wedding. It was exactly a scene, and exactly

among people, where he had apparently least to do, and least

temptation to go. Conjectures as to the meaning of it, rapid and

wild, hurried into her brain; but she was satisfied with none.

Those that best pleased her, as placing his conduct in the

noblest light, seemed most improbable. She could not bear such

suspense; and hastily seizing a sheet of paper, wrote a short

letter to her aunt, to request an explanation of what Lydia had

dropped, if it were compatible with the secrecy which had been

intended.