"But they are passed over," said Fanny. "I have been watching them. This weather is all from the south."
"South or north, I know a black cloud when I see it; and you must not set forward while it is so threatening. And besides, I want to play something more to you-a very pretty piece-and your cousin Edmund's prime favourite. You must stay and hear your cousin's favourite."
Fanny felt that she must; and though she had not waited for that sentence to be thinking of Edmund, such a memento made her particularly awake to his idea, and she fancied him sitting in that room again and again, perhaps in the very spot where she sat now, listening with constant delight to the favourite air, played, as it appeared to her, with superior tone and expression; and though pleased with it herself, and glad to like whatever was liked by him, she was more sincerely impatient to go away at the conclusion of it than she had been before; and on this being evident, she was so kindly asked to call again, to take them in her walk whenever she could, to come and hear more of the harp, that she felt it necessary to be done, if no objection arose at home.
Such was the origin of the sort of intimacy which took place between them within the first fortnight after the Miss Bertrams' going away-an intimacy resulting principally from Miss Crawford's desire of something new, and which had little reality in Fanny's feelings. Fanny went to her every two or three days: it seemed a kind of fascination: she could not be easy without going, and yet it was without loving her, without ever thinking like her, without any sense of obligation for being sought after now when nobody else was to be had; and deriving no higher pleasure from her conversation than occasional amusement, and _that_ often at the expense of her judgment, when it was raised by pleasantry on people or subjects which she wished to be respected. She went, however, and they sauntered about together many an half-hour in Mrs. Grant's shrubbery, the weather being unusually mild for the time of year, and venturing sometimes even to sit down on one of the benches now comparatively unsheltered, remaining there perhaps till, in the midst of some tender ejaculation of Fanny's on the sweets of so protracted an autumn, they were forced, by the sudden swell of a cold gust shaking down the last few yellow leaves about them, to jump up and walk for warmth.

"But they are passed over," said Fanny. "This weather is all from the south."
"I know a black cloud when I see it; and you must not set forward while it is so threatening. And besides, I want to play you a very pretty piece-your cousin Edmund's favourite."
Fanny felt that she must hear it; she fancied him sitting in that room, perhaps in the very spot where she sat now, listening with delight to the favourite air, played with superior tone and expression. Though glad to like whatever was liked by him, at the end she was more sincerely impatient to go away. She was so kindly asked to call again, and hear more of the harp, that she felt it must be done.
Such was the origin of the intimacy between them-an intimacy resulting chiefly from Miss Crawford's desire of something new, and which had little reality in Fanny's feelings. Fanny went to her every two or three days: she could not be easy without going, and yet it was without loving her, or thinking like her; and deriving no higher pleasure from her conversation than occasional amusement, and that often at the expense of her judgment.
She went, however, and they sauntered about together in Mrs. Grant's shrubbery, venturing sometimes to sit down on one of the benches, and remaining there, perhaps, till in the midst of some tender remark of Fanny's on the sweets of autumn, they were forced to jump up and walk for warmth.
