“I shall keep clear of you, Crawford, as long as I can,” said Edmund; “for you would be more likely to disconcert me, and I should be more sorry to see you trying at it than almost any other man.”

“Will he not feel this?” thought Fanny. “No, he can feel nothing as he ought.” He is a heartless creature, possibly exactly like his sister.

The party being now all united, and the chief talkers attracting each other, she remained silent. A whist-table was formed after tea, for the amusement of Dr. Grant. Miss Crawford took her harp. Fanny had nothing to do but to listen undisturbed the rest of the evening, except when Mr. Crawford now and then addressed to her a question or observation, which she could not avoid answering. Miss Crawford was too much vexed by what had passed to be in a humour for anything but music.

The assurance of Edmund’s being so soon to take holy orders, coming upon her like a blow that had been suspended, and still hoped uncertain and at a distance, was felt with resentment and mortification, and unholy fear. She was very angry with him. She had thought her dark seductive influence greater, her mesmerizing metaphysical charms of voice and eye having their sublime effects upon him.

Indeed, the vampire had begun to think of him; felt that she had, with great regard—as much as her kind could feel—with almost decided intentions. But she would now meet him with his own cool feelings. It was plain that he could have no serious views, no true attachment, by fixing himself in a situation which he must know she would never stoop to, nor enter due to her cursed state. She would learn to match him in his indifference. She would henceforth admit his attentions without any idea beyond immediate amusement. If he could so command his affections despite the mesmerizing dark power at her command, hers should do her no harm.

The only other alternative was to turn him into one such as herself.

Chapter XXIV

Henry Crawford had quite made up his mind by the next morning to give another fortnight to Mansfield. Having sent for his hunters, and written a few lines of explanation to the Admiral, he looked round at his sister as he sealed and threw the letter from him, and seeing the coast clear of the rest of the family, said, with a smile, “And how do you think I mean to amuse myself, Mary, on the days that I do not hunt? I am grown too old to go out more than three times a week; but I have a plan for the intermediate days, and what do you think it is?”

“To walk and ride with me, to be sure.”