It was long before Fanny could recover from the agitating happiness of such an hour. It was some time before she could see in him the same William as before, and talk to him, as her heart had been yearning to do through many a past year. That time, however, did gradually come, with affection on his side as warm as her own, and much less encumbered by refinement or self-distrust. She was the first object of his love, but it was a love which his stronger spirits, and bolder temper, made it as natural for him to express as to feel. On the morrow they were walking about together with true enjoyment, and every succeeding morrow renewed a tête-à-tête.

Except for the moments of peculiar delight Edmund’s kind consideration of her in the last few months had excited, Fanny had never known so much felicity in her life, as in this communion with the brother and friend who was opening all his heart to her, and telling her all his hopes, fears, and plans—the blessing of a promotion, news of their father, mother, brothers, and sisters, of whom she seldom heard. William was genuinely interested in her life at Mansfield; ready to think of every member of that home as she directed, or differing only by a less scrupulous opinion, and more noisy abuse of their aunt Norris.

With William and Fanny Price, fraternal love was thus still a sentiment in all its prime and freshness.

Their amiable affection advanced each in the opinion of all. Henry Crawford was as much struck with it as any. He honoured the warm-hearted, blunt fondness of the young sailor; and saw, with lively admiration, the glow of Fanny’s cheek, the brightness of her eye, the deep interest, the absorbed attention, while her brother was describing the hazards, or terrific scenes, which a period at sea must supply.

It was a picture which Henry Crawford had moral taste enough to value. Fanny’s attractions increased—increased twofold; for the sensibility which beautified her complexion and illumined her countenance was an attraction in itself. He was no longer in doubt of the capabilities of her heart. She had feeling, genuine feeling. It would be something to be loved by such a girl, to excite the first ardours of her young unsophisticated mind! She interested him more than he had foreseen. A fortnight was not enough. His stay became indefinite.

Mary Crawford knowingly smiled.

William was often called on by his uncle to be the talker. His stories were amusing in themselves to Sir Thomas, but the chief object in seeking them was to understand the young man by his histories. And he listened to his clear, simple, spirited details with full satisfaction, seeing in them the proof of all things good.