Fanny suspected what was going on.They sat so much longer than usual in the dining parlour,that she was sure they must be talking of her;and when tea at last brought them away,and she was to be seen by Edmund again,she felt dreadfully guilty.He came to her,sat down by her,took her hand,and pressed it kindly;and at that moment she thought that,but for the occupation and the scene which the tea things afforded,she must have betrayed her emotion in some unpardonable excess.
He was not intending,however,by such action,to be conveying to her that unqualified approbation and encouragement which her hopes drew from it.It was designed only to express his participation in all that interested her,and to tell her that he had been hearing what quickened every feeling of affection.He was,in fact,entirely on his father's side of the question.His surprise was not so great as his father's,at her refusing Crawford,because,so far from supposing her to consider him with anything like a preference,he had always believed it to be rather the reverse,and could imagine her to be taken perfectly unprepared,but Sir Thomas could not regard the connection as more desirable than he did.It had every recommendation to him,and while honouring her for what she had done under the influence of her present indifference,honouring her in rather stronger terms than Sir Thomas could quite echo,he was most earnest in hoping,and sanguine in believing,that it would be a match at last,and that,united by mutual affection,it would appear that their dispositions were as exactly fitted to make them blessed in each other,as he was now beginning seriously to consider them.Crawford had been too precipitate.He had not given her time to attach herself.He had begun at the wrong end.With such powers as his,however,and such a disposition as hers,Edmund trusted that everything would work out a happy conclusion.Meanwhile,he saw enough of Fanny's embarrassment to make him scrupulously guard against exciting it a second time,by any word,or look,or movement.
Crawford called the next day,and on the score of Edmund's return,Sir Thomas felt himself more than licensed to ask him to stay dinner;it was really a necessary compliment.He stayed of course,and Edmund had then ample opportunity for observing how he sped with Fanny,and what degree of immediate encouragement for him might be extracted from her manners;and it was so little,so very very little (every chance,every possibility of it,resting upon her embarrassment only,if there was not hope in her confusion,there was hope in nothing else),that he was almost ready to wonder at his friend's perseverance.-Fanny was worth it all;he had her to be worth every effort of patience,every exertion of mind-but he did not think he could have gone on himself with any woman breathing,without something more to warm his courage than his eyes could discern in hers.He was very willing to hope that Crawford saw clearer;and this was the most comfortable conclusion for his friend that he could come to from all that he observed to pass before,and at,and after dinner.
In the evening a few circumstances occurred which he thought more promising.When he and Crawford walked into the drawing-room,his mother and Fanny were sitting as intently and silently at work as if there were nothing else to care for.Edmund could not help noticing their apparently deep tranquillity.
‘We have not been so silent all the time,’replied his mother.‘Fanny has been reading to me,and only put the book down upon hearing you coming.’-And sure enough there was a book on the table which had the air of being very recently closed,a volume of Shakespeare.-‘She often reads to me out of those books;and she was in the middle of a very fine speech of that man's-What's his name,Fanny?-when we heard your footsteps.’
Crawford took the volume.‘Let me have the pleasure of finishing that speech to your ladyship,’said he.‘I shall find it immediately.’And by carefully giving way to the inclination of the leaves,he did find it,or within a page or two,quite near enough to satisfy Lady Bertram,who assured him,as soon as he mentioned the name of Cardinal Wolsey,that he had got the very speech.-Not a look,or an offer of help had Fanny given;not a syllable for or against.All her attention was for her work.She seemed determined to be interested by nothing else.But taste was too strong in her.She could not abstract her mind five minutes;she was forced to listen;his reading was capital,and her pleasure in good reading extreme.To good reading,however,she had been long used;her uncle read well-her cousins all-Edmund very well;but in Mr Crawford's reading there was a variety of excellence beyond what she had ever met with.The King,the Queen,Buckingham,Wolsey,Cromwell,all were given in turn;for with the happiest knack,the happiest power of jumping and guessing,he could always light,at will,on the best scene,or the best speeches of each;and whether it were dignity or pride,or tenderness or remorse,or whatever were to be expressed,he could do it with equal beauty.-It was truly dramatic.-His acting had first taught Fanny what pleasure a play might give,and his reading brought all his acting before her again;nay,perhaps with greater enjoyment,for it came unexpectedly,and with no such drawback as she had been used to suffer in seeing him on the stage with Miss Bertram.
