“Will you do me the honor, Miss Price?” he said, treading the edge of charm and yet all serious politeness—exactly as he imagined she would prefer him to be. And Fanny acquiesced, meanwhile noticing with an unexpected glance that Lord Eastwind, dressed in splendid formal darkness, watched her with intense, somehow familiar eyes—oh, that indescribable look of his! it truly made something in her chest constrict. Yes, she recalled, she owed him a single dance. . . .

Her happiness on this occasion was very much divided. To be secure of a partner at first was a most essential good—for the moment of beginning was now growing seriously near; and she so little understood her own claims as to think that if Mr. Crawford had not asked her, she must have been the last to be sought after. She feared she should have received a partner only through a series of inquiry, and bustle, and interference, which would have been terrible. . . .

But at the same time there was a pointedness in his manner of asking her which she did not like. She saw his eye glancing for a moment at her necklace, with a smile—she thought there was a smile—which made her blush and feel wretched. And though there was no second glance to disturb her, though he seemed then to be only quietly agreeable, she could not get the better of her embarrassment. It was heightened by the idea of his noticing it. She had no composure till he turned away to some one else. Then she could allow herself to feel the genuine satisfaction of having a partner, a voluntary partner, secured before the dancing began.

When the company were moving into the ballroom, she found herself for the first time near Miss Crawford, whose eyes and smiles were immediately and more unequivocally directed as her brother’s had been, upon the necklace. Fanny, anxious to get the story over, hastened to explain the second necklace: the real chain.

Miss Crawford listened; and all her intended compliments and insinuations to Fanny were forgotten. She felt only one thing; and, eyes brightening, she exclaimed with eager pleasure, “Did he? Did Edmund? That was like himself. No other man would have thought of it. I honour him beyond expression.” And she looked around as if longing to tell him so.

He was not near; he was attending a party of ladies out of the room. Instead, Mrs. Grant came up to the two girls, and taking an arm of each, they followed with the rest.

Fanny’s heart sunk, but there was no time to consider Miss Crawford’s feelings. They were in the ballroom, the violins were playing, and her mind was in a flutter that forbade its fixing on anything serious. She must watch the general arrangements, and see how everything was done.

Ah, the brilliant candlelight! The splendid golden glow!