“Upon my word, Fanny,” said Mrs. Norris, “you are in high luck to meet with such attention and indulgence.  You ought to be very much obliged to Mrs. Grant for thinking of you, and to your aunt for letting you go, and you ought to look upon it as something extraordinary; for I hope you are aware that there is no real occasion for your going into company in this sort of way, or ever dining out at all; and it is what you must not depend upon ever being repeated.  Nor must you be fancying that the invitation is meant as a compliment to you; the compliment is intended to your uncle and aunt and me.  Mrs. Grant thinks it a civility due to us to take a little notice of you, or else it would never have come into her head, and you may be certain that if your cousin Julia had been at home you would not have been asked.”

Mrs. Norris fetched breath, and went on.

“I think it right to give you a hint, Fanny, now that you are going into company without any of us; and I do beseech and entreat you not to be putting yourself forward, and talking and giving your opinion as if you were one of your cousins—­as if you were dear Mrs. Rushworth or Julia.  That will never do, believe me.  Remember, wherever you are, you must be the lowest and last; and though Miss Crawford is in a manner at home at the Parsonage, you are not to be taking place of her.  And as to coming away at night, you are to stay just as long as Edmund chooses.”

“Yes, ma’am.  I should not think of anything else.”

“And if it should rain—­which I think likely, for I never saw it more threatening for a wet evening in my life—­you must manage as well as you can, and not be expecting the carriage to be sent for you.”

“Walk!” said Sir Thomas, in a tone of unanswerable dignity, and, coming further into the room:  “My niece walk to an engagement at this time of the year!  Fanny, will twenty minutes after four suit you?”

A few weeks later Fanny was made happy by a visit from her brother William, now, through Sir Thomas’s influence, a midshipman; and soon the former intercourse between the families at the Park and at the Parsonage was revived, Sir Thomas perceiving, in a careless way, that Mr. Crawford, who was back again at Mansfield, was somewhat distinguishing his niece.

Harry, indeed, was beginning to be rather piqued by Fanny’s indifference.

“I do not quite know what to make of Miss Fanny,” he said to his sister.  “Is she solemn?  Is she queer?  Is she prudish?  I can hardly get her to speak.  I never was so long in company with a girl in my life, trying to entertain her, and succeeded so ill!  Never met with a girl who looked so grave on me.”

“Foolish fellow!” said Mary.  “And so this is her attraction after all!  This it is—­her not caring for you—­which gives her such a soft skin and makes her so much taller, and produces all these charms and graces!  I do desire that you will not be making her really unhappy.  A little love, perhaps, may animate and do her good; but I will not have you plunge her deep, for she is as good a little creature as ever lived, and has a great deal of feeling.”