fending the
taste, or wearing out the feelings of his hearers, is a man whom one
could not, in his public capacity, honour enough. I should like to be
such a man."

Edmund laughed.

"I should indeed. I never listened to a distinguished preacher in my
life without a sort of envy. But then, I must have a London audience.
I could not preach but to the educated; to those who were capable of
estimating my composition. And I do not know that I should be fond of
preaching often; now and then, perhaps once or twice in the spring,
after being anxiously expected for half a dozen Sundays together; but
not for a constancy; it would not do for a constancy."

Here Fanny, who could not but listen, involuntarily shook her head,
and Crawford was instantly by her side again, entreating to know her
meaning; and as Edmund perceived, by his drawing in a chair, and sitting
down close by her, that it was to be a very thorough attack, that looks
and undertones were to be well tried, he sank as quietly as possible
into a corner, turned his back, and took up a newspaper, very sincerely
wishing that dear little Fanny might be persuaded into explaining away
that shake of the head to the satisfaction of her ardent lover; and as
earnestly trying to bury every sound of the business from himself in
murmurs of his own, over the various advertisements of "A most desirable
Estate in South Wales"; "To Parents and Guardians"; and a "Capital
season'd Hunter."

Fanny, meanwhile, vexed with herself for not having been as motionless
as she was speechless, and grieved to the heart to see Edmund's
arrangements, was trying by everything in the power of her modest,
gentle nature, to repulse Mr. Crawford, and avoid both his looks and
inquiries; and he, unrepulsable, was persisting in both.

"What did that shake of the head mean?" said he. "What was it meant to
express? Disapprobation, I fear. But of what? What had I been saying
to displease you? Did you think me speaking improperly, lightly,
irreverently on the subject? Only tell me if I was. Only tell me if
I was wrong. I want to be set right. Nay, nay, I entreat you; for one
moment put down your work. What did that shake of the head mean?"

In vain was her "Pray, sir, don't; pray, Mr. Crawford," repeated twice
over; and in vain did she try to move away. In the same low, eager
voice, and the same close neighbourhood, he went on, reurging the same
questions as before. She grew more agitated and displeased.