And when Lord Eastwind noted Fanny’s discreet glances in his direction, he always acknowledged her—with a tiny nod or a ghost of a smile.

It was as though he was biding his time.

There was a great deal of needlework to be done, in which Fanny’s help was wanted; and Mrs. Norris claimed it—“Come, Fanny,” she cried, “these are fine times for you, but you must not be always walking from one room to the other, and doing the lookings-on at your ease; I want you here. I have been slaving to contrive Mr. Rushworth’s cloak, and now you may give me your help in putting it together. If nobody did more than you, we should not get on very fast.”

Fanny took the work very quietly, without attempting any defence; but her kinder aunt Bertram observed on her behalf—

“One cannot wonder, sister, that Fanny should be delighted: it is all new to her, you know. You and I used to be very fond of a play ourselves, and so am I still. As soon as I am a little more at leisure, what with the clay tablets and the amulet box of Osiris for the Pharaoh, I mean to look in at their rehearsals too. What is the play about, Fanny? you have never told me. In what bygone era of Egypt does the scenery lie?”

“Oh! sister, pray do not ask her now; for Fanny is not one of those who can talk and work at the same time. It is about Lovers’ Vows. Nothing to do with the Nile or crocodiles, dead or living, I assure you.” And Mrs. Norris glared in the direction of Lord Eastwind who sat on the other side of Lady Bertram, shadowed and silent.

“I believe,” said Fanny to her aunt Bertram, “there will be three acts rehearsed to-morrow evening, and that will give you an opportunity of seeing all the actors at once.”

“You had better stay till the curtain is hung,” interposed Mrs. Norris; “in a day or two—very little sense in a play without a curtain—and one will find it draw up into handsome festoons.”

Lady Bertram seemed quite resigned to waiting, and began to polish the side of a gilded Thoth statuette.

Fanny did not share her aunt’s composure. She thought of the morrow a great deal, for if the three acts were rehearsed, Edmund and Miss Crawford would then be acting together for the first time. The third act would bring a scene between them which interested her most particularly, and which she was longing and dreading to see how they would perform. The subject of it was love—a marriage of love was to be described by the gentleman, and a near declaration of love by the lady. Fanny had read the scene with painful, wondering emotions, and looked forward to their performance in trepidation. She did not believe they had yet rehearsed it, even in private.