Mrs. Thornton was silent after this; for her last words bore relation to a subject which mortified her. She had an unconscious contempt for a weak character; and Fanny was weak in the very points in which her mother and brother were strong. Mrs. Thornton was not a woman much given to reasoning; her quick judgment and firm resolution served her in good stead of any long arguments and discussions with herself; she felt instinctively that nothing could strengthen Fanny to endure hardships patiently, or face difficulties bravely; and though she winced as she made this acknowledgment to herself about her daughter, it only gave her a kind of pitying tenderness of manner towards her; much of the same description of demeanour with which mothers are wont to treat their weak and sickly children. A stranger, a careless observer might have considered that Mrs. Thornton's manner to her children betokened far more love to Fanny than to John. But such a one would have been deeply mistaken. The very daringness with which mother and son spoke out unpalatable truths, the one to the other, showed a reliance on the firm centre of each other's souls, which the uneasy tenderness of Mrs. Thornton's manner to her daughter, the shame with which she thought to hide the poverty of her child in all the grand qualities which she herself possessed unconsciously, and which she set so high a value upon in others--this shame, I say, betrayed the want of a secure resting-place for her affection. She never called her son by any name but John; "love," and "dear," and such like terms, were reserved for Fanny. But her heart gave thanks for him day and night; and she walked proudly among women for his sake.

Mrs. Thornton fell silent. She had an unconscious contempt for a weak character; and her daughter Fanny was weak in the very points in which her mother and brother were strong.
Mrs. Thornton was not a woman much given to reasoning; her quick judgment and firm resolution served her instead of any long arguments with herself; she felt instinctively that nothing could strengthen Fanny to endure hardships patiently or bravely. Though she winced as she acknowledged this, it gave her a kind of pitying tenderness towards Fanny, as if she were a sickly child.
A stranger might have considered that Mrs. Thornton showed far more love to Fanny than to John. But this view would be mistaken. The very daringness with which mother and son spoke out unpalatable truths to each other, showed a reliance on the firm centre of each other's souls. Mrs. Thornton's uneasy tenderness to her daughter went side-by-side with shame; she thought to hide her child's poverty in all the grand qualities which she herself possessed, but this shame betrayed the want of a secure resting-place for her affection. She never called her son by any name but John; 'love' and 'dear' were reserved for Fanny. But her heart gave thanks for him day and night; and she was proud of him.
