The evening was heavy like the day. "I cannot think what is the matter
with me," said Lady Bertram, when the tea-things were removed. "I feel
quite stupid. It must be sitting up so late last night. Fanny, you
must do something to keep me awake. I cannot work. Fetch the cards; I
feel so very stupid."

The cards were brought, and Fanny played at cribbage with her aunt till
bedtime; and as Sir Thomas was reading to himself, no sounds were heard
in the room for the next two hours beyond the reckonings of the
game--"And that makes thirty-one; four in hand and eight in crib.
You are to deal, ma'am; shall I deal for you?" Fanny thought and
thought again of the difference which twenty-four hours had made in
that room, and all that part of the house. Last night it had been hope
and smiles, bustle and motion, noise and brilliancy, in the
drawing-room, and out of the drawing-room, and everywhere. Now it was
languor, and all but solitude.

A good night's rest improved her spirits. She could think of William
the next day more cheerfully; and as the morning afforded her an
opportunity of talking over Thursday night with Mrs. Grant and Miss
Crawford, in a very handsome style, with all the heightenings of
imagination, and all the laughs of playfulness which are so essential
to the shade of a departed ball, she could afterwards bring her mind
without much effort into its everyday state, and easily conform to the
tranquillity of the present quiet week.