Her brother was not handsome: no, when they first saw him he was absolutely plain, black and plain; but still he was the gentleman, with a pleasing address. The second meeting proved him not so very plain: he was plain, to be sure, but then he had so much countenance, and his teeth were so good, and he was so well made, that one soon forgot he was plain. And after a third interview, after dining in company with him at the Parsonage, he was no longer allowed to be called so by anybody. He was, in fact, the most agreeable young man the sisters had ever known, and they were equally delighted with him.

“What a pretty young man he is,” Lady Bertram was heard to mutter, “almost Egyptian. Indeed, once the Mouth is Opened, he might look very much like—” Her cryptic words were hardly analyzed however by anyone except Edmund and Fanny, who consulted in secrecy in the corridor.

“What does mother mean, I wonder, Fanny,” mused Edmund, leaning on a large sealed wooden crate stacked upon another in the hallway. “If it has something to do with the goings on upstairs, I dread to think what she might have planned. Something ritualistic.”

Fanny was almost afraid to venture this, but, absentmindedly peeling a wooden shaving from the corner of the same crate, she said: “What if, cousin, what if Lady Bertram plans to initiate the gentleman and the lady into whatever plans she has? Plans related to the Cursed situation?”

“Of that I have little doubt, dear Fanny. But my question is, specifically for what?”

“Did you happen to see how odd Miss Crawford looked as she first noticed the condition of the parlor?”

Edmund seemed to change color slightly, and he hurried to say, “Odd? Whatever do you mean? Miss Crawford is admittedly very lovely, I see nothing odd—”

Fanny sighed. Behind her, planted in a round-bottomed Memphis jar stood an anchored fan—palm frond-shaped, lapis and ostrich, and newly arrived from Cairo. If not for its bulky presence, she would have found herself shrinking against the wall in sorrow.

It must be said about Henry Crawford that Miss Bertram’s engagement made him in equity the property of Julia, of which Julia was fully aware. And before he had been at Mansfield a week, she was quite ready to be fallen in love with.

Maria’s notions on the subject were more confused and indistinct. “There could be no harm in her liking an agreeable man—everybody knew her situation—Mr. Crawford must take care of himself.”

Mr. Crawford did not mean to be in any danger. Both Miss Bertrams were worth pleasing, and were ready to be pleased; and he began with no object but of making them like him. He did not want them to die of love. But with sense and temper which ought to have made him judge and feel better, he allowed himself great latitude on such points.