“I should indeed,” continued Crawford. “I never listened to a distinguished preacher in my life without a sort of envy. But then, I must have a London audience. I could not preach but to the educated; to those capable of estimating my composition. And I do not know that I should be fond of preaching often; now and then, perhaps, but not for a constancy.”

Here Fanny, who could not but listen, involuntarily shook her head. And Crawford was instantly by her side again, entreating to know her meaning. He drew up a chair, sat down close by her. Dear little Fanny might be persuaded into explaining away that shake of the head to the satisfaction of her ardent lover.

Fanny, meanwhile, vexed with herself for displaying a reaction, tried to repulse Mr. Crawford. But he was undaunted.

“What did that shake of the head mean?” said he. “What was it meant to express? Disapprobation, I fear. But of what? What had I been saying to displease you? I want to be set right! What did that shake of the head mean?”

In vain was her “Pray, sir, don’t; pray, Mr. Crawford,” repeated twice over; and in vain did she try to move away. In the same low, eager voice, and the same proximity, he went on. She grew more agitated and displeased.

“How can you, sir? You quite astonish me; I wonder how you can—”

“Do I astonish you?” said he. “Do you wonder? Is there anything in my present entreaty that you do not understand?”

In spite of herself, she could not help half a smile, but she said nothing, thinking, I am afraid I understand too much.

“You shook your head at my acknowledging that I should not like to engage in the duties of a clergyman always for a constancy. Yes, that was the word. Constancy: I am not afraid of the word!”

“Perhaps, sir,” said Fanny, wearied at last into speaking—“perhaps, sir, I thought it was a pity you did not always know yourself as well as you seemed to do at that moment.”

Crawford, delighted to get her to speak at any rate, was determined to keep it up. Poor Fanny, who had hoped to silence him by such extreme reproof, found herself sadly mistaken. He was more intent than ever on gaining an explanation, considering that no such opportunity might occur again before his leaving Mansfield. Lady Bertram’s being just on the other side of the table was a trifle, for she might always be considered as only half-awake, and Edmund’s determined perusal of the paper’s advertisements was opportune.