ry
pain to any one, and though I may deceive myself, I cannot but think
that for me, for my feelings, she would--Hers are faults of principle,
Fanny; of blunted delicacy and a corrupted, vitiated mind. Perhaps it
is best for me, since it leaves me so little to regret. Not so, however.
Gladly would I submit to all the increased pain of losing her, rather
than have to think of her as I do. I told her so."

"Did you?"

"Yes; when I left her I told her so."

"How long were you together?"

"Five-and-twenty minutes. Well, she went on to say that what remained
now to be done was to bring about a marriage between them. She spoke of
it, Fanny, with a steadier voice than I can." He was obliged to pause
more than once as he continued. "'We must persuade Henry to marry
her,' said she; 'and what with honour, and the certainty of having shut
himself out for ever from Fanny, I do not despair of it. Fanny he must
give up. I do not think that even _he_ could now hope to succeed with
one of her stamp, and therefore I hope we may find no insuperable
difficulty. My influence, which is not small shall all go that way; and
when once married, and properly supported by her own family, people of
respectability as they are, she may recover her footing in society to a
certain degree. In some circles, we know, she would never be admitted,
but with good dinners, and large parties, there will always be those
who will be glad of her acquaintance; and there is, undoubtedly, more
liberality and candour on those points than formerly. What I advise
is, that your father be quiet. Do not let him injure his own cause by
interference. Persuade him to let things take their course. If by any
officious exertions of his, she is induced to leave Henry's protection,
there will be much less chance of his marrying her than if she remain
with him. I know how he is likely to be influenced. Let Sir Thomas trust
to his honour and compassion, and it may all end well; but if he get his
daughter away, it will be destroying the chief hold.'"

After repeating this, Edmund was so much affected that Fanny, watching
him with silent, but most tender concern, was almost sorry that the
subject had been entered on at all. It was long before he could speak
again. At last, "Now, Fanny," said he, "I shall soon have done. I have
told you the substance of all that she said. As soon as I could speak,
I replied that I had not supposed it possible, coming in such a state of
mind into