A week was gone since Edmund might be supposed in town, and Fanny had
heard nothing of him. There were three different conclusions to be
drawn from his silence, between which her mind was in fluctuation; each
of them at times being held the most probable. Either his going had
been again delayed, or he had yet procured no opportunity of seeing
Miss Crawford alone, or he was too happy for letter-writing!

One morning, about this time, Fanny having now been nearly four weeks
from Mansfield, a point which she never failed to think over and
calculate every day, as she and Susan were preparing to remove, as
usual, upstairs, they were stopped by the knock of a visitor, whom they
felt they could not avoid, from Rebecca's alertness in going to the
door, a duty which always interested her beyond any other.

It was a gentleman's voice; it was a voice that Fanny was just turning
pale about, when Mr. Crawford walked into the room.

Good sense, like hers, will always act when really called upon; and she
found that she had been able to name him to her mother, and recall her
remembrance of the name, as that of "William's friend," though she
could not previously have believed herself capable of uttering a
syllable at such a moment. The consciousness of his being known there
only as William's friend was some support. Having introduced him,
however, and being all reseated, the terrors that occurred of what this
visit might lead to were overpowering, and she fancied herself on the
point of fainting away.