He had a note to deliver from his sister.

Fanny could not look at him, but there was no consciousness of past folly in his voice.

She opened her note immediately, glad to have anything to do, and happy, as she read it, to feel that the fidgetings of her aunt Norris, who was also to dine there, screened her a little from view.
"My dear Fanny,--for so I may now always call you, to the infinite relief of a tongue that has been stumbling at _Miss_ _Price_ for at least the last six weeks--I cannot let my brother go without sending you a few lines of general congratulation, and giving my most joyful consent and approval.

Go on, my dear Fanny, and without fear; there can be no difficulties worth naming.

I chuse to suppose that the assurance of my consent will be something; so you may smile upon him with your sweetest smiles this afternoon, and send him back to me even happier than he goes .-- Yours affectionately, M.C." These were not expressions to do Fanny any good; for though she read in too much haste and confusion to form the clearest judgment of Miss Crawford's meaning, it was evident that she meant to compliment her on her brother's attachment, and even to _appear_ to believe it serious.
She did not know what to do, or what to think.