She had burst away from him. And at that moment Sir Thomas was heard speaking to a servant in his way towards the room they were in, asking him to go and please attend to Mrs. Norris who must be so volubly taking her exercise in full view of all.

It was no time for further assurances or entreaty. Fanny rushed out the opposite door from the one her uncle was approaching, and was walking up and down the East room in the utmost confusion of contrary feeling, before Sir Thomas’s politeness or apologies were over, or he had reached the beginning of the joyful intelligence which his visitor came to communicate.

Fanny was feeling, thinking, trembling about everything; agitated, happy, miserable, infinitely obliged, absolutely angry. It was all beyond belief! He was inexcusable, incomprehensible! But such were his habits that he could do nothing without a mixture of evil. In that, he was exactly like his undead sister, but without the excuse of vampirism to justify his empty heart!

He had previously made her the happiest of human beings, and now he had insulted—she knew not what to say, how to class, or how to regard it. She would not have him be serious, and yet what else could it be?

But William was a lieutenant. That was a fact beyond a doubt. She would think of it and forget all the rest. Mr. Crawford would certainly never address her so again—he must have seen how unwelcome it was to her—and in that case, she could gratefully esteem him for his friendship to William!

She would not stir from the East room, until satisfied that Mr. Crawford had left the house. Then, she was eager to go down and be with her uncle, and have all the happiness of his joy as well as her own on behalf of William.

Sir Thomas was as joyful as she could desire, and very kind and communicative. She had so comfortable a talk with him about William as to make her feel as if nothing had occurred to vex her, till she found that Mr. Crawford was to return and dine with them that day. It was most unwelcome and distressing to see him again so soon.

She tried very hard, as the dinner hour approached, to feel and appear as usual. But it was quite impossible for her not to look most shy and uncomfortable when their visitor entered the room.

Mr. Crawford was not only in the room—he was soon close to her. He had a note to deliver from his sister.

Fanny could not look at him. But there was no consciousness of past folly in his voice. She opened her note immediately, glad to have anything to do, and happy, as she read it, to feel that the fidgetings and rather violent wolfish yelps of her aunt Norris, who was also to dine there, screened her a little from view.