een so
many, and been admired by so many, and flirted with so many, infinitely
her superiors; who seemed so little open to serious impressions, even
where pains had been taken to please him; who thought so slightly, so
carelessly, so unfeelingly on all such points; who was everything to
everybody, and seemed to find no one essential to him? And farther,
how could it be supposed that his sister, with all her high and worldly
notions of matrimony, would be forwarding anything of a serious nature
in such a quarter? Nothing could be more unnatural in either. Fanny
was ashamed of her own doubts. Everything might be possible rather than
serious attachment, or serious approbation of it toward her. She had
quite convinced herself of this before Sir Thomas and Mr. Crawford
joined them. The difficulty was in maintaining the conviction quite so
absolutely after Mr. Crawford was in the room; for once or twice a
look seemed forced on her which she did not know how to class among the
common meaning; in any other man, at least, she would have said that
it meant something very earnest, very pointed. But she still tried to
believe it no more than what he might often have expressed towards her
cousins and fifty other women.

She thought he was wishing to speak to her unheard by the rest. She
fancied he was trying for it the whole evening at intervals, whenever
Sir Thomas was out of the room, or at all engaged with Mrs. Norris, and
she carefully refused him every opportunity.

At last--it seemed an at last to Fanny's nervousness, though not
remarkably late--he began to talk of going away; but the comfort of the
sound was impaired by his turning to her the next moment, and saying,
"Have you nothing to send to Mary? No answer to her note? She will be
disappointed if she receives nothing from you. Pray write to her, if it
be only a line."

"Oh yes! certainly," cried Fanny, rising in haste, the haste of
embarrassment and of wanting to get away--"I will write directly."

She went accordingly to the table, where she was in the habit of writing
for her aunt, and prepared her materials without knowing what in the
world to say. She had read Miss Crawford's note only once, and how to
reply to anything so imperfectly understood was most distressing.
Quite unpractised in such sort of note-writing, had there been time for
scruples and fears as to style she would have felt them in abundance:
but something must be instantly written; and with only on