After repeating this,Edmund was so much affected,that Fanny,watching him with silent,but most tender concern,was almost sorry that the subject had been entered on at all.It was long before he could speak again.At last,‘Now,Fanny,’said he,‘I shall soon have done.I have told you the substance of all that she said.As soon as I could speak,I replied that I had not supposed it possible,coming in such a state of mind into that house,as I had done,that any thing could occur to make me suffer more,but that she had been inflicting deeper wounds in almost every sentence.That,though I had,in the course of our acquaintance,been often sensible of some difference in our opinions,on points too,of some moment,it had not entered my imagination to conceive the difference could be such as she had now proved it.That the manner in which she treated the dreadful crime committed by her brother and my sister (with whom lay the greater seduction I pretended not to say)but the manner in which she spoke of the crime itself,giving it every reproach but the right,considering its ill consequences only as they were to be braved or overborne by a defiance of decency and impudence in wrong;and,last of all,and above all,recommending to us a compliance,a compromise,an acquiescence,in the continuance of the sin,on the chance of a marriage which,thinking as I now thought of her brother,should rather be prevented than sought-all this together most grievously convinced me that I had never understood her before,and that,as far as related to mind,it had been the creature of my own imagination,not Miss Crawford,that I had been too apt to dwell on for many months past.That,perhaps it was best for me;I had less to regret in sacrificing a friendship-feelings-hopes which must,at any rate,have been torn from me now.And yet,that I must and would confess,that,could I have restored her to what she had appeared to me before,I would infinitely prefer any increase of the pain of parting,for the sake of carrying with me the right of tenderness and esteem.This is what I said-the purport of it-but,as you may imagine,not spoken so collectedly or methodically as I have repeated it to you.She was astonished,exceedingly astonished-more than astonished.I saw her change countenance.She turned extremely red.I imagined I saw a mixture of many feelings-a great,though short struggle-half a wish of yielding to truths,half a sense of shame-but habit,habit carried it.She would have laughed if she could.It was a sort of laugh,as she answered,“A pretty good lecture upon my word.Was it part of your last sermon?At this rate,you will soon reform everybody at Mansfield and Thornton Lacey;and when I hear of you next,it may be as a celebrated preacher in some great society of Methodists,or as a missionary into foreign parts.”She tried to speak carelessly;but she was not so careless as she wanted to appear.I only said in reply,that from my heart I wished her well,and earnestly hoped that she might soon learn to think more justly,and not owe the most valuable knowledge we could any of us acquire-the knowledge of ourselves and of our duty,to the lessons of affliction-and immediately left the room.I had gone a few steps,Fanny,when I heard the door open behind me.“Mr Bertram,”said she.I looked back.“Mr Bertram,”said she,with a smile-but it was a smile ill-suited to the conversation that had passed,a saucy playful smile,seeming to invite,in order to subdue me;at least,it appeared so to me.I resisted;it was the impulse of the moment to resist,and still walked on.I have since-sometimes-for a moment-regretted that I did not go back;but I know I was right,and such has been the end of our acquaintance!And what an acquaintance has it been!How have I been deceived!Equally in brother and sister deceived!I thank you for your patience,Fanny.This has been the greatest relief,and now we will have done.’
And such was Fanny's dependence on his words,that for five minutes she thought they had done.Then,however,it all came on again,or something very like it,and nothing less than Lady Bertram's rousing thoroughly up,could really close such a conversation.Till that happened,they continued to talk of Miss Crawford alone,and how she had attached him,and how delightful nature had made her,and how excellent she would have been,had she fallen into good hands earlier.Fanny,now at liberty to speak openly,felt more than justified in adding to his knowledge of her real character,by some hint of what share his brother's state of health might be supposed to have in her wish for a complete reconciliation.This was not an agreeable intimation.Nature resisted it for a while.It would have been a vast deal pleasanter to have had her more disinterested in her attachment;but his vanity was not of a strength to fight long against reason.He submitted to believe,that Tom's illness had influenced her;only reserving for himself this consoling thought,that considering the many counteractions of opposing habits,she had certainly been more attached to him than could have been expected,and for his sake been more near doing right.Fanny thought exactly the same;and they were also quite agreed in their opinion of the lasting effect,the indelible impression,which such a disappointment must make on his mind.Time would undoubtedly abate somewhat of his sufferings,but still it was a sort of thing which he never could get entirely the better of;and as to his ever meeting with any other woman who could-it was too impossible to be named but with indignation.Fanny's friendship was all that he had to cling to.
