a something about Fanny, I have often observed it before--she likes to
go her own way to work; she does not like to be dictated to; she takes
her own independent walk whenever she can; she certainly has a little
spirit of secrecy, and independence, and nonsense, about her, which I
would advise her to get the better of."

As a general reflection on Fanny, Sir Thomas thought nothing could be
more unjust, though he had been so lately expressing the same sentiments
himself, and he tried to turn the conversation: tried repeatedly
before he could succeed; for Mrs. Norris had not discernment enough to
perceive, either now, or at any other time, to what degree he thought
well of his niece, or how very far he was from wishing to have his own
children's merits set off by the depreciation of hers. She was talking
_at_ Fanny, and resenting this private walk half through the dinner.

It was over, however, at last; and the evening set in with more
composure to Fanny, and more cheerfulness of spirits than she could
have hoped for after so stormy a morning; but she trusted, in the first
place, that she had done right: that her judgment had not misled her.
For the purity of her intentions she could answer; and she was willing
to hope, secondly, that her uncle's displeasure was abating, and would
abate farther as he considered the matter with more impartiality, and
felt, as a good man must feel, how wretched, and how unpardonable, how
hopeless, and how wicked it was to marry without affection.

When the meeting with which she was threatened for the morrow was past,
she could not but flatter herself that the subject would be finally
concluded, and Mr. Crawford once gone from Mansfield, that everything
would soon be as if no such subject had existed. She would not, could
not believe, that Mr. Crawford's affection for her could distress him
long; his mind was not of that sort. London would soon bring its cure.
In London he would soon learn to wonder at his infatuation, and be
thankful for the right reason in her which had saved him from its evil
consequences.

While Fanny's mind was engaged in these sort of hopes, her uncle was,
soon after tea, called out of the room; an occurrence too common to
strike her, and she thought nothing of it till the butler reappeared ten
minutes afterwards, and advancing decidedly towards herself, said,
"Sir Thomas wishes to speak with you, ma'am, in his own room." Then it
occurred to her what might be going