those points where he most wants care.{232} From something that he told me

in our journey hither, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted

to him. But I ought to beg his pardon, for I have no right to suppose

that Bingley was the person meant. It was all conjecture.”
“What is it you mean?”
“It is a circumstance which Darcy of course 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 his 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?{233}”
“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 judgment alone, he was to

determine and direct in what manner that friend was to be happy. But,”

she continued, recollecting herself, “as we know none of the