ar. She was anxious, she knew--more anxious perhaps than
she ought to be--for what was it after all whether she went or staid?
but if her uncle were to be a great while considering and deciding, and
with very grave looks, and those grave looks directed to her, and
at last decide against her, she might not be able to appear properly
submissive and indifferent. Her cause, meanwhile, went on well. It
began, on Lady Bertram's part, with--"I have something to tell you that
will surprise you. Mrs. Grant has asked Fanny to dinner."

"Well," said Sir Thomas, as if waiting more to accomplish the surprise.

"Edmund wants her to go. But how can I spare her?"

"She will be late," said Sir Thomas, taking out his watch; "but what is
your difficulty?"

Edmund found himself obliged to speak and fill up the blanks in his
mother's story. He told the whole; and she had only to add, "So strange!
for Mrs. Grant never used to ask her."

"But is it not very natural," observed Edmund, "that Mrs. Grant should
wish to procure so agreeable a visitor for her sister?"

"Nothing can be more natural," said Sir Thomas, after a short
deliberation; "nor, were there no sister in the case, could anything,
in my opinion, be more natural. Mrs. Grant's shewing civility to Miss
Price, to Lady Bertram's niece, could never want explanation. The only
surprise I can feel is, that this should be the _first_ time of its
being paid. Fanny was perfectly right in giving only a conditional
answer. She appears to feel as she ought. But as I conclude that she
must wish to go, since all young people like to be together, I can see
no reason why she should be denied the indulgence."

"But can I do without her, Sir Thomas?"

"Indeed I think you may."

"She always makes tea, you know, when my sister is not here."

"Your sister, perhaps, may be prevailed on to spend the day with us, and
I shall certainly be at home."

"Very well, then, Fanny may go, Edmund."

The good news soon followed her. Edmund knocked at her door in his way
to his own.

"Well, Fanny, it is all happily settled, and without the smallest
hesitation on your uncle's side. He had but one opinion. You are to go."

"Thank you, I am _so_ glad," was Fanny's instinctive reply; though when
she had turned from him and shut the door, she could not help feeling,
"And yet why should I be glad? for am I not certain of seeing or hearing
something there to pain me?"

In spite of this conviction, however, s