“I do not catch your meaning,” said Sir Thomas, sitting down again. “Out of your power to return his good opinion? What is all this? I know he spoke to you yesterday, and (as far as I understand) received as much encouragement to proceed as a well-judging young woman could permit herself to give. I was very much pleased with what I collected to have been your behaviour on the occasion. It shewed commendable discretion. But now, when he has made his overtures so properly, and honourably—what are your scruples now?”

My heart! thought she, my heart. . . .

“You are mistaken, sir,” cried Fanny, forced by the anxiety of the moment even to tell her uncle that he was wrong; “you are quite mistaken. How could Mr. Crawford say such a thing? I gave him no encouragement yesterday. On the contrary, I told him that I would not listen to him, that it was very unpleasant to me in every respect! I begged him never to talk to me in that manner again. I am sure I would have said still more, if I had been quite certain of him being serious! I thought it might all pass for nothing with him.”

She could say no more; her breath was almost gone.

In her mind’s eye she saw Edmund, and another, ancient, dark, beloved. . . .

“Am I to understand,” said Sir Thomas, after a few moments’ silence, “that you mean to refuse Mr. Crawford?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Refuse him?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Refuse Mr. Crawford! Upon what plea? For what reason?”

“I—I cannot like him, sir, well enough to marry him.”

“This is very strange!” said Sir Thomas, in a voice of calm displeasure. “There is something here which my comprehension does not reach. Here is a young man wishing to pay his addresses to you, with everything to recommend him: situation, fortune, agreeable character. And he is an acquaintance you have now known for some time. His sister, moreover, is your intimate friend, and he has done that for your brother, which should have been sufficient recommendation to you, had there been no other.”

“Yes,” said Fanny, in a faint voice, and looking down with fresh shame. She did feel almost ashamed of herself, after such a picture as her uncle had drawn, for not liking Mr. Crawford.

“You must have been aware,” continued Sir Thomas, “of a particularity in Mr. Crawford’s manners to you. This cannot have taken you by surprise. You must have observed his attentions. And though you always received them very properly, I never perceived them to be unpleasant to you. I am half inclined to think, Fanny, that you do not quite know your own feelings.”

“Oh yes, sir! indeed I do. His attentions were always—what I did not like.”