Surprised to find herself so very serious when others were so much amused, in doubt and trembling she looked into her own heart, and she found it to be nearly engrossed by one overwhelming passion. She had always intended to keep herself “fancy free” till she could devote her whole soul, her pure unhacknied affections, to one only object for ever. From the easy footing of society in a country-house, her intercourse with Lord Delaford had been free and unconstrained; his attentions, although constant, were not marked, and nothing had occurred to call her mind to the effect they were gradually, but surely, producing. It was not till the fear came over her that he did not care for her, that she discovered she had ever believed in his preference; it was not till she felt how inexpressibly painful was that fear, that she discovered her affections were fixed on one only object for ever. She was suddenly aroused from her fancied security, and found within the heart which she had imagined fresh and uncontaminated, love,—unrequited love, and jealousy,—jealousy of her dearest friend. She thought herself degraded. She was miserable. But she did not allow her mortification to swallow up all other feelings. Maidenly pride remained, and she determined he should never perceive the power she had allowed him to acquire over her. Lord Delaford, on his part, reflected upon the increased attractions of Isabella, and upon the want of vivacity of Fanny. Though no coxcomb, he thought it possible Fanny might entertain for him feelings which, his conscience told him, would have been wounded by the unusual degree in which he had been occupied with Isabella. His goodnatured heart smote him at the idea of giving pain to so gentle and lovely a being, and he joined the breakfast party the next morning full of kindness and interest for Fanny, flattered by the interpretation he had himself given to her coldness, and well prepared to return any indications of preference which he might perceive in her manner towards him. Fanny had schooled her heart, and the more she was really agitated, the more was she resolved to wear a calm exterior; the more she knew there was a sentiment within her bosom which could not be confessed, the more was she resolved no human eye should discover it. She was aware that sudden coolness might be construed into pique, and she determined to be merely careless and indifferent. She did not remember that she might, by this means, lose what most she wished to gain. She did not calculate. The abstract idea that any woman should love any man better than he loved her—that any woman should be won unwooed, roused her pride for the sex in general; and that she herself should be one of these poor, weak, infatuated creatures, gave her a sense of humiliation against which her very soul rebelled.