Without knowing what he was about, Edmund was beginning, at the end of a week of such intercourse[7], to be a good deal in love. And to the credit of the lady it may be added that, without his being a man of the world or an elder brother, without any of the arts of flattery or the gaieties of small talk, he began to be agreeable to her. She felt it to be so, though she had not foreseen, and could hardly understand it. He was not pleasant by any common rule: he talked no nonsense. He paid no compliments, his opinions were unbending, his attentions tranquil and simple. There was a charm, perhaps, in his sincerity, his steadiness, his integrity, which Miss Crawford might be equal to feel, though not equal to discuss with herself. She did not think very much about it, however: he pleased her for the present; she liked to have him near her; it was enough.

Enough, for the moment. . . .

Fanny could not wonder that Edmund was at the Parsonage every morning. She would gladly have been there too, to hear the harp. Neither could she wonder that, when the evening stroll was over, and the two families parted again, he should attend Mrs. Grant and her sister to their home, while Mr. Crawford was devoted to the ladies of the Park. But she thought it a very bad exchange. If Edmund were not there to mix the wine and water for her, she would rather go without it.

She was a little surprised that he could spend so many hours with Miss Crawford, and not see more of the sort of fault which he had already observed, and of which she was reminded by a something of a dark nature whenever she was in her company. But so it was. Edmund was fond of speaking to her of Miss Crawford (apparently the Admiral had not been mentioned again). Fanny scrupled to point out her own remarks to him, lest it should appear like ill-nature.

The first actual pain which Miss Crawford occasioned her was the consequence of an inclination to learn to ride, which the former caught, soon after her being settled at Mansfield, from the example of the young ladies at the Park. As Edmund’s acquaintance with her increased, it led to his offer of his own quiet mare for the purpose of her first attempts. No hurt was intended by him to his cousin—she was not to lose a day’s exercise by it. The mare was only to be taken down to the Parsonage half an hour before her ride were to begin. Fanny, on its being first proposed, so far from feeling slighted, was almost over-powered with gratitude that he should be asking her leave for it.