of past folly in his voice. She opened her
note immediately, glad to have anything to do, and happy, as she read
it, to feel that the fidgetings of her aunt Norris, who was also to dine
there, screened her a little from view.

"My dear Fanny,--for so I may now always call you, to the infinite
relief of a tongue that has been stumbling at _Miss_ _Price_ for at
least the last six weeks--I cannot let my brother go without sending you
a few lines of general congratulation, and giving my most joyful consent
and approval. Go on, my dear Fanny, and without fear; there can be no
difficulties worth naming. I chuse to suppose that the assurance of my
consent will be something; so you may smile upon him with your sweetest
smiles this afternoon, and send him back to me even happier than he
goes.--Yours affectionately, M. C."

These were not expressions to do Fanny any good; for though she read
in too much haste and confusion to form the clearest judgment of Miss
Crawford's meaning, it was evident that she meant to compliment her on
her brother's attachment, and even to _appear_ to believe it serious.
She did not know what to do, or what to think. There was wretchedness in
the idea of its being serious; there was perplexity and agitation every
way. She was distressed whenever Mr. Crawford spoke to her, and he spoke
to her much too often; and she was afraid there was a something in his
voice and manner in addressing her very different from what they were
when he talked to the others. Her comfort in that day's dinner was
quite destroyed: she could hardly eat anything; and when Sir Thomas
good-humouredly observed that joy had taken away her appetite, she
was ready to sink with shame, from the dread of Mr. Crawford's
interpretation; for though nothing could have tempted her to turn
her eyes to the right hand, where he sat, she felt that _his_ were
immediately directed towards her.

She was more silent than ever. She would hardly join even when William
was the subject, for his commission came all from the right hand too,
and there was pain in the connexion.

She thought Lady Bertram sat longer than ever, and began to be in
despair of ever getting away; but at last they were in the drawing-room,
and she was able to think as she would, while her aunts finished the
subject of William's appointment in their own style.

Mrs. Norris seemed as much delighted with the saving it would be to
Sir Thomas as with any part of it. "_Now_ William