ready to make a conquest of Henry Crawford, matters seem likely to go on very comfortably. Unluckily everything does not quite fit in as it should. Maria Bertram, the eldest daughter, is already engaged to Mr. Rushworth, wealthy, well-born, and very dull, for whom she does not care in the least; and, as she is the handsomer of the two sisters, it amuses Henry Crawford to carry on a flirtation with both, so that neither can say which is preferred; and Mr. Rushworth is kept in a continual state of irritation, while nothing is said or done that could give tangible grounds for jealousy.
Meanwhile Tom Bertram, who is a mere man of pleasure, does not seem specially bewitched by Mary Crawford, and she, on her side, is unaccountably attracted by Edmund Bertram. She has done her best to get rid of whatever heart she had to start with, but she has not wholly succeeded, and now, in spite of his being a younger son, and destined for Holy Orders, and of his not being nearly so polished or complimentary as the men she is accustomed to, his straightforwardness, high principle, and simple admiration for her, fascinate the hardened coquette, and she is on the verge of caring for him as much as she is capable of caring for anyone. The attraction is quite as great on Edmund's side, and this is less wonderful, as Mary Crawford is beautiful, clever, and amusing; his taste cannot always approve of her, but he sets down much that pains him to the account of the society in which she has lived, and the sincere affection between her and her brother makes him believe her capable of real feeling. He makes Fanny his confidante in this—as in everything else—and talks to her constantly about the Crawfords; while
