Sir Thomas heard and was not offended. There was no want of respect in the young man’s address; and Fanny’s reception of it was so proper and modest, so calm and uninviting, that he had nothing to censure in her. She said little, assented only here and there, and betrayed no inclination either of recognizing any part of the compliment to herself, or of encouraging him. Henry Crawford then addressed himself on the same subject to Sir Thomas, in a more everyday tone, but still with feeling.

“I want to be your neighbour, Sir Thomas, as you have, perhaps, heard me telling Miss Price. May I hope for your acquiescence, and for your not influencing your son against such a tenant?”

Sir Thomas, politely bowing, replied, “It is the only way, sir, in which I could not wish you established as a permanent neighbour. I hope, and believe, that Edmund will occupy his own house at Thornton Lacey—Edmund?”

“Certainly, sir,” said Edmund, “I intend it. But, Crawford, though I refuse you as a tenant, come to me as a friend. Consider the house as half your own every winter.”

“We shall be the losers,” continued Sir Thomas at length, and then added, “His going, though only eight miles, will be an unwelcome contraction of our family circle. But it is the natural consequence of his intentions, the duty of a parish priest.”

Mr. Crawford bowed his acquiescence.

“I repeat again,” added Sir Thomas, “that Thornton Lacey is the only house in the neighbourhood in which I should not be happy to wait on Mr. Crawford as occupier.”

Mr. Crawford bowed his thanks.

Whatever effect Sir Thomas’s little harangue might really produce on Mr. Crawford, it raised some awkward sensations in two of his most attentive listeners—Miss Crawford and Fanny. The former was pondering with downcast eyes on what it would be not to see Edmund every day. And the latter imagined with dread the future Thornton as a sadly elegant, modernised, and occasional residence of a man of independent fortune.

It was time to have done with cards. The chief of the party were now collected irregularly round the fire, and waiting the final break-up. William and Fanny were the most detached. They remained together at the deserted card-table, talking very comfortably, and not thinking of the rest. Henry Crawford’s chair was the first to be given a direction towards them, and he sat silently observing them for a few minutes; noting the odious vicinity of Lord Eastwind. Sir Thomas meanwhile, conversing with Dr. Grant, observed Crawford.

“This is the assembly night,” said William. “If I were at Portsmouth I should be at it, perhaps.”

“But you do not wish yourself at Portsmouth, William?”