After being nursed up at Mansfield, it was too late in the day to be hardened at Portsmouth; and though Sir Thomas, had he known all, might have thought his niece in the most promising way of being starved, both mind and body, into a much juster value for Mr.Crawford's good company and good fortune, he would probably have feared to push his experiment farther, lest she might die under the cure.
Fanny was out of spirits all the rest of the day.

Though tolerably secure of not seeing Mr.Crawford again, she could not help being low.
It was parting with somebody of the nature of a friend; and though, in one light, glad to have him gone, it seemed as if she was now deserted by everybody; it was a sort of renewed separation from Mansfield; and she could not think of his returning to town, and being frequently with Mary and Edmund, without feelings so near akin to envy as made her hate herself for having them.
Her dejection had no abatement from anything passing around her; a friend or two of her father's, as always happened if he was not with them, spent the long, long evening there; and from six o'clock till half-past nine, there was little intermission of noise or grog.

She was very low.

The wonderful improvement which she still fancied in Mr.
Crawford was the nearest to administering comfort of anything within the current of her thoughts.

Not considering in how different a circle she had been just seeing him, nor how much might be owing to contrast, she was quite persuaded of his being astonishingly more gentle and regardful of others than formerly.