"My dearest Fanny," cried Edmund, pressing her arm closer to him, "do not let the idea of her anger distress you. It is anger to be talked of rather than felt. Her heart is made for love and kindness, not for resentment. I wish you could have overheard her tribute of praise; I wish you could have seen her countenance, when she said that you _should_ be Henry's wife. And I observed that she always spoke of you as 'Fanny,' which she was never used to do; and it had a sound of most sisterly cordiality."
"And Mrs. Grant, did she say-did she speak; was she there all the time?"

"My dearest Fanny," cried Edmund, pressing her arm closer, "do not let the idea of her anger distress you. It is anger to be talked of rather than felt. Her heart is made for love and kindness, not for resentment. I wish you could have heard her praise you; I wish you could have seen her face, when she said that you should be Henry's wife."
"And Mrs. Grant, did she speak; was she there all the time?"
