“I am very sorry,” said Fanny wearily, her eyes sweeping the corner of the room for a memory of other eyes, belonging to a far dearer one whom she had refused at a greater price to her soul and heart.

But Mr. Crawford was in love, very much in love. And it was a love which made her affection appear of greater consequence because it was withheld. He was determined to force her to love him.

He would not despair: he would not desist. He had every well-grounded reason for solid attachment. And yet—he knew not that he had a pre-engaged heart to attack. Of that he had no suspicion. Indeed, he was the third in line to it!

He considered her rather as one who had never thought on the subject of love, guarded by a youth of mind as lovely as of person; whose modesty had prevented her from understanding his attentions. She was but overpowered by the suddenness.

Must it not follow of course, that, when he was understood, he should succeed? He believed it fully. Love such as his, in a man like himself, must with perseverance secure a return. He had so much delight in the idea of obliging her to love him in a very short time, that her not loving him now was scarcely regretted.

A little difficulty to be overcome was no evil to Henry Crawford. He rather derived spirits from it. He had been apt to gain hearts too easily. His situation was new and animating.

To Fanny, however, all this was unintelligible. She found that he meant to persevere, and now, frustration was setting in! Fanny almost imagined a tedious mummy into whose mouth she might stuff some large wad to make it go away.

So she told him that she did not love him, could not love him, was sure she never should love him; that such a change was quite impossible; that the subject was most painful to her. She must entreat him never to mention it again, to allow her to leave him at once, and let it be considered as concluded for ever. Their dispositions were so totally dissimilar as to make mutual affection incompatible. They were unfitted for each other by nature, education, and habit.

“Mr. Crawford,” whispered Fanny, in conclusion. “You are being beyond unreasonable. After all I have said, is this, in any way, your sister’s wicked idea, to torment me so?”

“Ah, you know so little of true wickedness, Miss Price,” he continued, in dazzled admiration of her innocence.

But Fanny shattered this illusion entirely. “Miss Crawford is a vampire,” she announced, to remind him of what Mary herself had told him some time ago about Fanny’s remarkable ability. “I know wickedness when I see it. Believe me, sir, I know far more than you can imagine.”