The table between the windows was covered with work-boxes and netting-boxes which had been given her at different times, principally by Tom; and she grew bewildered as to the amount of the debt which all these kind memories produced. A tap at the door roused her. Her gentle “Come in” was answered by the appearance of one before whom all her doubts were to be laid. Her eyes brightened at the sight of Edmund.

“Can I speak with you, Fanny, for a few minutes?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“I want to consult your opinion.”

“My opinion!” she cried, shrinking from such a compliment, highly as it gratified her.

“Yes, your advice and opinion. I do not know what to do. This acting scheme gets worse and worse, you see. They have chosen almost as bad a play as they could. And now, to complete the business, are going to ask the help of a young man very slightly known to any of us. This is the end of all the privacy and propriety. I know no harm of Charles Maddox; but the excessive intimacy which must spring from his being admitted among us in this manner is highly objectionable. It appears to me an evil of such magnitude as must be prevented. Do not you see it in the same light?”

“Yes; but what can be done? Your brother is so determined.”

“There is but one thing to be done, Fanny. I must take the role of Anhalt myself. Nothing else will quiet Tom.”

Fanny could not answer him. But for some reason, in that moment she was reminded of Lord Eastwind’s cryptic words earlier, and his steady, exotic, unwavering gaze.

“It is not at all what I like,” he continued. “No man can like being driven into the appearance of such inconsistency. After opposing the scheme from the beginning, it is absurd of me. But I can think of no other alternative. Can you, Fanny?”

“No,” said Fanny slowly, “not immediately, but—”

“But what? I see your judgment is not with me. Think it over. Perhaps you are not so much aware as I am of the mischief that must arise from a young man’s being received in this manner: placed suddenly on a footing which must do away all restraints. It is all very bad[14]! Put yourself in Miss Crawford’s place, Fanny. Consider what it would be to act Amelia with a stranger. I heard enough of what she said to you last night to understand her unwillingness. She probably had different expectations of the role. Her feelings ought to be respected. Does it not strike you so, Fanny? You hesitate.”

“I am sorry for Miss Crawford; but I am sorrier to see you drawn into what you are against, what will be disagreeable to my uncle. It will be such a triumph to the others!”