“Oh!certainly,”said Elizabeth,though burning with curiosity;“we will ask you no questions.”
On such encouragement to ask,Elizabeth was forced to put it out of her power,by running away.
“Not that I shall,though,”she added to herself,as she finished the letter;“and my dear aunt,if you do not tell me in an honourable manner,I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find it out.”
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.
Well,Monday morning came,and I was in such a fuss!I was so afraid,you know,that something would happen to put it off,and then I should have gone quite distracted.And there was my aunt, all the time I was dressing,preaching and talking away just as if she was reading a sermon.However,I did not hear above one word in ten,for I was thinking,you may suppose,of my dear Wickham.I longed to know whether he would be married in his blue coat.”