JANE AUSrEN'S JVORKS 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK 
 Volume I. 
 
JANE AUSTEN'S WORKS. 
 
 Sense and Sensibility ... 2 vols. 
 
 Pride and Prejudice . . . • . 2 vols. 
 
 Mansfield Park 2 vols. 
 
 Emma 2 vols. 
 
 NORTHANGER AbBEY .... I vol. 
 
 Persuasion i vol. 
 
 Lady Susan — The Watsons 
 
 With a Memoir . . . . i vol. 
 Letters i vol. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2014 
 
 https://archive.org/details/nnansfieldpark01aust 
 
THE NOVELS OF JANE AUSTEN 
 
 MANSFIELD 
 PARK 
 
 BY 
 
 JANE AUSTEN 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
 
 1903 
 
Copyright, 189^, 
 By Roberts Brothers. 
 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 
 
MANSFIELD PAEK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BOUT thirty years ago Miss Maria 
 Ward, of Huntingdon, with only seven 
 thousand pounds, had the good luck to 
 captivate Sir Thomas Bertram, of Mans- 
 field Park, in the county of Northampton, and to 
 be thereby raised to the rank of a baronet's lady, 
 with all the comforts and consequences of a hand- 
 some house and large income. All Huntingdon 
 exclaimed on the greatness of the match; and her 
 uncle, the lawyer, himself allowed her to be at 
 least three thousand pounds short of any equitable 
 claim to it. She had two sisters to be benefited 
 by her elevation; and such of their acquaintance 
 as thought Miss Ward and Miss Frances quite as 
 handsome as Miss Maria, did not scruple to pre- 
 dict their marrying with almost equal advantage. 
 But there certainly are not so many men of large 
 fortune in the world as there are pretty women to 
 deserve them. Miss Ward, at the end of half-a- 
 
6 
 
 MANSFIELD PAEK. 
 
 dozen years, found herself obliged to be attached 
 to the Eev. Mr. Norris, a friend of her brother-in- 
 law, with scarcely any private fortune; and Miss 
 Frances fared yet worse. Miss Ward's match, 
 indeed, when it came to the j^oint, was not con- 
 temptible, Sir Thomas being happily able to give 
 his friend an income in the living of Mansfield; 
 and Mr. and Mrs. ISTorris began their career of 
 conjugal felicity with very little less than a thou- 
 sand a year. But Miss Frances married, in the 
 common phrase, to disoblige her family, and by 
 fixing on a Lieutenant of Marines, without educar 
 tion, fortune, or connections, did it very thor- 
 oughly. She could hardly have made a more 
 untoward choice. Sir Thomas Bertram had in- 
 terest which, from principle as well as pride, 
 from a general wish of doing right, and a desire 
 of seeing all that were connected with him in situ- 
 ations of respectability, he would have been glad 
 to exert for the advantage of Lady Bertram's sis- 
 ter: but her husband's profession was such as no 
 interest could reach; and before he had time to 
 devise any other method of assisting them, an 
 absolute breach between the sisters had taken 
 place. It was the natural result of the conduct 
 of each party, and such as a very imprudent mar- 
 riage almost always produces. To save herself 
 from useless remonstrance, Mrs. Price never wrote 
 to her family on the subject till actually married. 
 Lady Bertram, who was a woman of very tranquil 
 feelings, and a temper remarkably easy and indo- 
 lent, would have contented herself with merely 
 giving up her sister, and thinking no more of the 
 
MANSEIELD PABK. 
 
 7 
 
 matter; hut Mrs. i^Torris Lad a spirit of activity, 
 whicli could not be satisfied till slie had written a 
 long and angry letter to Fanny, to point out the 
 folly of her conduct, and threaten her with all its 
 possible ill consequences. Mrs. Price, in her 
 turn, was injured and angry; and an answer, 
 which comprehended each sister in its bitterness, 
 and bestowed such very disrespectful reflections on 
 the pride of Sir Thomas as Mrs. Norris could not 
 possibly keep to herself, put an end to all inter* 
 course between them for a considerable period. 
 
 Their homes w^ere so distant, and the circles in 
 which they moved so distinct, as almost to preclude 
 the means of ever hearing of each other's existence 
 during the eleven following years, or at least to 
 make it very wonderful to Sir Thomas that Mrs. 
 Norris should ever have it in her power to tell 
 them, as she now and then did in an angry voice, 
 that Fanny had got another child. By the end of 
 eleven years, however, Mrs. Price could no longer 
 afford to cherish pride or resentment, or to lose 
 one connection that might possibly assist her. 
 A large and still increasing family, a husband dis- 
 abled for active service, but not the less equal to 
 company and good liquor, and a very small income 
 to supply their wants, made her eager to regain 
 the friends she had so carelessly sacrificed; and 
 she addressed Lady Bertram in a letter w^hich 
 spoke so much contrition and despondence, such a 
 superfluity of children, and such a want of almost 
 everything else, as could not but dispose them all 
 to a reconciliation. She was preparing for her 
 ninth lying-in; and after bewailing the circum- 
 
8 
 
 MANSFIELD PAEK. 
 
 stance, and imploring their countenance as spon- 
 sors to the expected child, she could not conceal 
 how important she felt they might he to the future 
 maintenance of the eight alread}^ in heing. Her 
 eldest was a hoy of ten years old, a fine spirited 
 fellow, who longed to he out in the world; hut 
 what could she do? Was there any chance of his 
 heing hereafter useful to Sir Thomas in the con- 
 cerns of his West Indian property? 'No situation 
 would he heneath him, — or what did Sir Thomas 
 think of Woolwich? or how could a hoy he sent 
 out to the East? 
 
 The letter was not unproductive. It re-estab- 
 lished peace and kindness. Sir Thomas sent 
 friendly advice and professions. Lady Bertram de- 
 spatched money and hahy-linen, and Mrs. Norris 
 wrote the letters. 
 
 Such were its imiT.ediate effects, and within a 
 twelvemonth a more important advantage to Mrs. 
 Price resulted from it. Mrs. Norris was often 
 observing to the others that she could not get her 
 poor sister and her family out of her head, and 
 that, much as they had all done for her, she 
 seemed to be wanting to do more; and at length 
 she could not but own it to be her wish that poor 
 Mrs. Price should be relieved from the charge and 
 expense of one child entirely out of her great 
 number. 
 
 ^^What if they were among them to undertake 
 the care of her eldest daughter, a girl now nine 
 years old, of an age to require more attention than 
 her poor mother could possibly give? The trouble 
 and expense of it to them would be nothing com- 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 9 
 
 pared with the benevolence of the action.'^ Lady 
 Bertram agreed with her instantly. ^^I think we 
 cannot do better/' said shej ^^let us send for the 
 child.'' 
 
 Sir Thomas could not give so instantaneous and 
 unqualified a consent. He debated and hesitated : 
 it was a serious charge ; a girl so brought up 
 must be adequately provided for^ or there would 
 be cruelty instead of kindness in taking her from 
 her family. He thought of his own four chil- 
 dren, — of his two sons, of cousins in love, etc. ; 
 but no sooner had he deliberately begun to state 
 his objections, than Mrs. Korris interrupted him 
 with a reply to them all, whether stated or not. 
 
 ^^My dear Sir Thomas, I perfectly comprehend 
 you, and do justice to the generosity and delicacy 
 of your notions, which indeed are quite of a piece 
 with your general conduct; and I entirely agree 
 with you in the main as to the propriety of doing 
 everything one could by way of providing for a 
 child one had in a manner taken into one's own 
 hands ; and I am sure I should be the last person 
 in the world to withhold my mite upon such an 
 occasion. Having no children of my own, whom 
 should I look to in any little matter I may ever 
 have to bestow, but the children of my sisters? 
 and I am sure Mr. ISTorris is too just — But you 
 know I am a woman of few words and professions. 
 Do not let us be frightened from a good deed by a 
 trifle. Give a girl an education, and introduce 
 her properly into the world, and ten to one but she 
 has the means of settling well, without further ex- 
 pense to anybody. A niece of ours, Sir Thomas, 
 
10 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 I may say, or at least of yours, would not grow up 
 in this neighborhood without many advantages. 
 I don't say she would be so handsome as her 
 cousins. I dare say she would not ; but she would 
 be introduced into the society of this country un- 
 der such very favorable circumstances as in all 
 human probability would get her a creditable estab- 
 lishment. You are thinking of your sons, — but do 
 not you know that of all things upon earth that is 
 the least likely to happen; brought up, as they 
 would be, always together like brothers and sis- 
 ters? It is morally impossible. I never knew an 
 instance of it. It is, in fact, the only sure way of 
 providing against the connection. Suppose her a 
 pretty girl, and seen by Tom or Edmund for the 
 first time seven years hence, and I dare say there 
 would be mischief. The very idea of her having 
 been suffered to grow up at a distance from us all 
 in poverty and neglect, would be enough to make 
 either of the dear, sweet-tempered boys in love 
 with her. But breed her up with them from this 
 time, and suppose her even to have the beauty of 
 an angel, and she will never be more to either 
 than a sister.'' 
 
 ' ' There is a great deal of truth in what you 
 say," replied Sir Thomas, ^^and far be it from me 
 to throw any fanciful impediment in the way of a 
 plan which would be so consistent with the rela- 
 tive situations of each. I only meant to observe 
 that it ought not to be lightly engaged in, and 
 that to make it really serviceable to Mrs. Price, 
 and creditable to ourselves, we must secure to the 
 child; or consider ourselves engaged to secure to 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 11 
 
 her hereafter, as circumstances may arise, the pro- 
 vision of a gentlewoman, if no such establishment 
 should offer as you are so sanguine in expecting.'' 
 ^^I thoroughly understand you,'' cried Mrs. 
 Norris; ^^you are everything that is generous and 
 considerate, and I am sure we shall never disagree 
 on this point. Whatever I can do, .as you well 
 know, I am always ready enough to do for the 
 good of those I love; and though I could never 
 feel for this little girl the hundredth part of tlie 
 regard I bear your own dear children, nor consider 
 her in any respect so much my own, I should 
 hate myself if I were capable of neglecting her. 
 Is not she a sister's child? and could I bear to see 
 her want, while I had a bit of bread to give her? 
 My dear Sir Thomas, with all my faults I have a 
 warm heart, and poor as I am, would rather deny 
 myself the necessaries of life than do an ungen- 
 erous thing. So, if you are not against it, I will 
 write to my poor sister to-morrow, and make the 
 proposal; and as soon as matters are settled, I 
 will engage to get the child to Mansfield; you 
 shall have no trouble about it. My own trouble, 
 you know, I never regard. I will send Kanny to 
 London on purpose, and she ma}^ have a bed at her 
 cousin the saddler's, and the child be appointed to 
 meet her there. They may easily get her from 
 Portsmouth to town by the coach, under the care 
 of any cT^-editable person that may chance to be 
 going. I dare say there is always some reputable 
 tradesman's wife or other going up." 
 
 Except to the attack on Nanny's cousin, Sir 
 Thomas no longer made any objection; and a more 
 
12 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 respectable though less economical rendezvous 
 being accordingly substituted^ everything was con- 
 sidered as settled^ and the pleasures of so benevo- 
 lent a scheme were already enjoyed. The division 
 of gratifying sensations ought not, in strict justice, 
 to have been equal; for Sir Thomas was fully 
 resolved to be the real and consistent patron of 
 the selected child, and Mrs. Norris had not the 
 least intention of being at any expense whatever 
 in her maintenance. As far as walking, talking, 
 and contriving reached, she was thoroughly be- 
 nevolent, and nobody knew better how to dictate 
 liberality to others; but her love of money was 
 equal to her love of directing, and she knew quite 
 as well how to save her own as to spend that of her 
 friends. Having married on a narrower income 
 than she had been used to look forward to, she 
 had, from the first, fancied a very strict line of 
 economy necessary; and what was begun as a 
 matter of prudence soon grew into a matter of 
 choice, as an object of that needful solicitude 
 which there were no children to supply. Had 
 there been a family to provide for, Mrs. ISTorris 
 might never have saved her money; but having 
 no care of that kind, there was nothing to impede 
 her frugality, or lessen the comfort of making a 
 yearly addition to an income which they had never 
 lived up to. Under this infatuating principle, 
 counteracted by no real affection for her sister, it 
 was impossible for her to aim at more than the 
 credit of projecting and arranging so expensive a 
 charity; though perhaps she might so little know 
 herself as to walk home to the Parsonage, after 
 
MANSriELB PARK. 
 
 13 
 
 this conversation, in the happy belief of being 
 the most liberal-minded sister and aunt in the 
 world. 
 
 When the subject was brought forward again, 
 her views were more fully explained; and in 
 reply to Lady Bertram's calm inquiry of * ' Where 
 shall the child come to first, sister, — to you or to 
 us? Sir Thomas heard, with some surprise, 
 that it would be totally out of Mrs. Norris's power 
 to take any share in the personal charge of her. 
 He had been considering her as a particularly 
 welcome addition at the Parsonage, as a desirable 
 companion to an aunt who had no children of her 
 own; but he found himself wholly mistaken. 
 Mrs. !Norris was sorry to say that the little girl's 
 staying with them, at least as things then were, 
 was quite out of the question. Poor Mr. Norris's 
 indifferent state of health made it an impossibil- 
 ity; he could no more bear the noise of a child 
 than he could fly. If, indeed, he should ever get 
 well of his gouty complaints, it would be a differ- 
 ent matter; she should then be glad to take her 
 turn, and think nothing of the inconvenience: 
 but just now poor Mr. Korris took up every mo- 
 ment of her time, and the very mention of such a 
 thing she was sure would distract him. 
 
 Then she had better come to us? ' said Lady 
 Bertram, with the utmost composure. After a 
 short pause Sir Thomas added with dignity: 
 ^^Yes, let her home be in this house. We will 
 endeavor to do our duty by her, and she will at 
 least have the advantage of companions of her own 
 age and of a regular instructress." 
 
14 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 ^^Very true/^ cried Mrs. IsTorris, which are 
 both very important considerations; and it will 
 be just the same to Miss Lee, whether she has 
 three girls to teach, or only two, — there can be 
 no difference. I only wish I could be more use- 
 ful ; but you see I do all in my power. I am not 
 one of those that spare their own trouble; and 
 Nanny shall fetch her, however it may put me to 
 inconvenience to have my chief counsellor away 
 for three days. I suppose, sister, you will put 
 the child in the little white attic, near the old 
 nurseries. It will be much the best place for her, 
 so near Miss Lee, and not far from the girls, and 
 close by the housemaids, who could either of them 
 help to dress her, you know, and take care of her 
 clothes ; for I suppose you would not think it fair 
 to expect Ellis to wait on her as well as the others. 
 Indeed, I do not see that you could possibly place 
 her anywhere else.'' 
 
 Lady Bertram made no opposition. 
 
 ^^I hope she will prove a well-disposea girl,'' 
 continued Mrs. Norris, ^^and be sensible of her 
 uncommon good fortune in having such friends." 
 
 Should her disposition be really bad,'' said 
 Sir Thomas, we must not, for our -own children's 
 sake, continue her in the family; but there is no 
 reason to expect so great an evil. We shall prob- 
 ably see much to wish altered in her, and must 
 prepare ourselves for gross ignorance, some mean- 
 ness of opinions, and very distressing vulgarity of 
 manner; but these are not incurable faults, nor, 
 I trust, can they be dangerous for her associates. 
 Had my daughters been younger than herself, I 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 15 
 
 should have considered the introduction of such a 
 companion as a matter of very serious moment; 
 but as it is, I hope there can be nothing to fear 
 for them, and everything to hope for her, from the 
 association." 
 
 ^^That is exactly what I think, cried Mrs. 
 ^^orris, ^^and what I was saying to my husband 
 this morning. It will be an education for the 
 child, said I, only being with her cousins; if 
 Miss Lee taught her nothing, she would learn to 
 be good and clever from them.'^ 
 
 ^^I hope she will not tease my poor pug,^' said 
 Lady Bertram; ^^I have but just got Julia to 
 leave it alone.'' 
 
 There will be some difficulty in our way, Mrs. 
 Norris,'' observed Sir Thomas, ^^as to the dis- 
 tinction proper to be made between the girls as 
 they grow up: how to preserve in the minds of 
 my daughters the consciousness of what they are, 
 without making them think too lowly of their 
 cousin; and how, without depressing her spirits 
 too far, to make her remember that she is not a 
 Miss Bertram. I should wish to see them very 
 good friends, and would on no account authorize 
 in my girls the smallest degree of arrogance to- 
 wards their relation; but still they cannot be 
 equals. Their rank, fortune, rights, and expecta- 
 tions wdll always be different. It is a point of 
 great delicacy, and you must assist us in our 
 endeavors to choose exactly the right line of 
 conduct." 
 
 Mrs. Norris was quite at his service; and 
 ^hough she perfectly agreed with him as to its 
 
16 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 being a most difficult thing, encouraged him to 
 hope that between them it would be easily 
 managed. 
 
 It will be readily believed that Mrs. Norris did 
 not write to her sister in vain. Mrs. Price seemed 
 rather surprised that a girl should be fixed on, 
 when she had so many fine boys, but accepted the 
 offer most thankfully, assuring them of her daugh- 
 ter's being a very well-disposed, good-humored 
 girl, and trusting they would never have cause to 
 throw her off. She spoke of her further as some- 
 what delicate and puny, but was sanguine in the 
 hope of her being materially better for change of 
 air. Poor woman! she probably thought change 
 of air might agree with many of her children. 
 
CHAPTEE II. 
 
 The little girl performed her long journey in 
 safety; and at ISTorthampton was met by Mrs. 
 Norris, who thus regaled in the credit of being 
 foremost to welcome her, and in the importance of 
 leading her in to the others, and recommending 
 her to their kindness. 
 
 Eanny Price w^as at this time just ten years old; 
 and though there might not be much in her first 
 appearance to captivate, there was, at least, noth- 
 ing to disgust her relations. She was small of her 
 age, with no glow of complexion, nor any other 
 striking beauty; exceedingly timid and shy, and 
 shrinking from notice; but her air, though awk- 
 ward, was not vulgar, her voice was sweet, and 
 when she spoke her countenance was pretty. Sir 
 Thomas and Lady Bertram received her very 
 kindly; and Sir Thomas, seeing how much she 
 needed encouragement, tried to be all that was con- 
 ciliating : but he had to w^ork against a most unto- 
 ward gravity of deportment; and Lady Bertram, 
 without taking half so much trouble, or speaking 
 one word where he spoke ten, by the mere aid of a 
 good-humored smile, became immediately the less 
 awful character of the two. 
 
 The young people were all at home, and sus- 
 tained their share in the introduction very well, 
 
 VOL. I. — 2 
 
18 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK, 
 
 with much good-humor, and no embarrassment, at 
 least on the part of the sons, who at seventeen and 
 sixteen, and tall of their age, had all the grandeur 
 of men in the eyes of their little cousin. The two 
 girls were more at a loss, from being younger and 
 in greater awe of their father, vv^ho addressed them 
 on the occasion with rather an injudicious particu- 
 larity. But they were too much used to company 
 and praise to have anything like natural shyness ; 
 and their confidence increasing from their cousin's 
 total want of it, they were soon able to take a 
 full survey of her face and her frock in easy 
 indifference. 
 
 They were a remarkably fine family; the sons 
 very well looking, the daughters decidedly hand- 
 some, and all of them well grown and forward of 
 their age, which produced as striking a difference 
 between the cousins in person as education had 
 given to their address ; and no one would have sup- 
 posed the girls so nearly of an age as they really 
 were. 
 
 There was, in fact, but two years between the 
 youngest and Fanny. Julia Bertram was only 
 twelve, and Maria but a year older. The little 
 visitor meanwhile was as unhappy as possible. 
 Afraid of everybody, ashamed of herself, and long- 
 ing for the home she had left, she knew not how 
 to look up, and could scarcely speak to be heard 
 or without crying. Mrs. Norris had been talking 
 to her the whole way from ^Northampton of her 
 wonderful good fortune, and the extraordinary de- 
 gree of gratitude and good behavior which it ought 
 to produce, and her consciousness of misery was 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 19 
 
 therefore increased by the idea of its being a 
 wicked thing for her not to be happy. The fatigue, 
 too, of so long a journey became soon no trifling 
 evil. In vain were the well-meant condescensions 
 of Sir Thomas, and all the officious prognostica- 
 tions of Mrs. l^orris that she would be a good girl; 
 in vain did Lady Bertram smile and make her sit 
 on the sofa with herself and pug, and vain was 
 even the sight of a gooseberry tart towards giving 
 her comfort : she could scarcely swallow two mouth- 
 fuls before tears interrupted her; and sleep seeming 
 to be her likeliest friend, she was taken to finish 
 her sorrows in bed. 
 
 " This is not a very promising beginning," said 
 Mrs. Norris, when Fanny had left the room. 
 
 After all that I said to her as we came along, I 
 thought she would have behaved better; I told her 
 how much might depend upon her acquitting her- 
 self well at first. I wish there may not be a little 
 sulkiness of temper, — her poor mother had a good 
 deal; but we must make allowances for such a 
 child; and I do not know that her being sorry to 
 leave her home is really against her, for, with all 
 its faults, it was her home, and she cannot as 
 yet understand how much she has changed for 
 the better; but then there is moderation in all 
 things." 
 
 It required a longer time, however, than Mrs. 
 Norris was inclined to allow, to reconcile Fanny 
 to the novelty of Mansfield Park, and the separa- 
 tion from everybody she had been used to. Her 
 feelings were very acute, and too little understood 
 to be properly attended to. Xobody meant to be 
 
20 
 
 MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 tiiikind; but nobody put tbemselves out of their 
 way to secure her comfort. 
 
 The holiday allowed to the Miss Bertrams the 
 next day, on purpose to afford leisure for getting 
 acquainted with, and entertaining their young 
 cousin, produced little union. They could not but 
 hold her cheap on finding that she had but two 
 sashes, and had never learned French; and when 
 they perceived her to be little struck with the duet 
 they were so good as to play, they could do no 
 more than make her a generous present of some of 
 their least valued toys, and leave her to herself, 
 while they adjourned to whatever might be the 
 favorite holiday sport of the moment, making 
 artificial flowers or wasting gold paper. 
 
 Fanny, whether near or from her cousins, 
 whether in the school-room, the drawing-room, or 
 the shrubbery, was equally forlorn, finding some- 
 thing to fear in every person and place. She was 
 disheartened by Lady Bertram's silence, awed by 
 Sir Thomas's grave looks, and quite overcome by 
 Mrs. Norris's admonitions. Her elder cousins 
 mortified her by reflections on her size, and abashed 
 her by noticing her shyness ; Miss Lee wondered 
 at her ignorance, and the maid-servants sneered at 
 her clothes ; and when to these sorrows was added 
 the idea of the brothers and sisters among whom 
 she had always been important as playfellow, in- 
 structress, and nurse, the despondence that sunk 
 her little heart was severe. 
 
 The grandeur of the house astonished, but could 
 not console her. The rooms were too large for her 
 to move in with ease; whatever she touched she 
 
MANSFIELD PAEK. 
 
 21 
 
 expected to injure, and she crept about in constant 
 terror of something or other, often retreating to- 
 wards her own chamber to cry; and the little girl 
 who was spoken of in the drawing-room when she 
 left it at night, as seeming so desirably sensible of 
 her peculiar good fortune, ended every day's sor- 
 rows by sobbing herself to sleep. A week had 
 passed in this way, and no suspicion of it con- 
 veyed by her quiet, passive manner, when she 
 was found one morning by her cousin Edmund, 
 the youngest of the sons, sitting crying on the 
 attic stairs. 
 
 My dear little cousin," said he, with all the 
 gentleness of an excellent nature, ^^what can be 
 the matter? And sitting down by her, he was 
 at great pains to overcome her shame in being 
 so surprised, and persuade her to speak openly. 
 ^' Was she ill? or was anybody angry with her? or 
 had she quarrelled with Maria and Julia? or was 
 she puzzled about anything in her lesson that he 
 could explain? Did she, in short, want anything 
 he could possibly get her, or do for her? For a 
 long while no answer could be obtained beyond a 
 "^0, no — not at all — -no, thank you; but he 
 still persevered; and no sooner had he begun to 
 revert to her own home, than her increased sobs 
 explained to him where the grievance lay. He 
 tried to console her. 
 
 You are sorry to leave mamma, my dear little 
 Fanny,'' said he, which shows you to be a very 
 good girl; but you must remember that you are 
 with relations and friends, who all love you, and 
 wish to make you happy. Let us walk out in the 
 
22 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 park, and you shall tell me all about your brothers 
 and sisters.^' 
 
 On pursuing the subject, he found that dear as 
 all these brothers and sisters generally were, there 
 was one among them who ran more in her thoughts 
 than the rest. It was William whom she talked of 
 most, and wanted most to see, — William, the eldest, 
 a year older than herself, her constant companion 
 and friend ; her advocate with her mother (of whom 
 he was the darling) in every distress. William 
 did not like she should come away ; he had told her 
 he should miss her very much indeed.'^ ^^But 
 William will write to you, I dare say.'^ ^^Yes, 
 he had promised he would, but he had told her to 
 write first." And when shall you do it? She 
 hung her head, and answered hesitatingly, She 
 did not know; she had not any paper.'' 
 
 ^^If that be all your difficulty, I will furnish 
 you with paper and every other material, and you 
 may write your letter whenever you choose. Would 
 it make you happy to write to William? '' 
 
 '^Yes, very.'' 
 
 ^^Then let it be done now. Come with me into 
 the breakfast-room; we shall find everything there, 
 and be sure of having the room to ourselves." 
 
 ^^But, cousin, — will it go to the post?" 
 Yes, depend upon me it shall; it shall go with 
 the other letters ; and as your uncle will frank it, 
 it will cost William nothing." 
 
 "M-j uncle?" repeated Fanny, with a fright- 
 ened look. 
 
 Yes, when you have written the letter, I will 
 take it to my father to frank." 
 
MANSEIELD PARK. 
 
 23 
 
 Fanny thought it a hold measure, hut offered no 
 further resistance ; and they went together into the 
 breakfast-room, where Edmund prepared her paper, 
 and ruled her lines with all the good-will that her 
 brother could himself have felt, and probably with 
 somewhat more exactness. He continued with her 
 the whole time of her writing, to assist her with 
 his penknife or his orthography, as either were 
 wanted; and added to these attentions, which she 
 felt very much, a kindness to her brother, which 
 delighted her beyond all the rest. He wrote with 
 his own hand his love to his cousin William, and 
 sent him half a guinea under the seal. Fanny's 
 feelings on the occasion were such as she believed 
 herself incapable of expressing; hut her countenance 
 and a few artless words fully conveyed all their 
 gratitude and delight, and her cousin began to find 
 her an interesting object. He talked to her more, 
 and, from all that she said, was convinced of her 
 having an affectionate heart, and a strong desire of 
 doing riglit; and he could perceive her to be fur- 
 ther entitled to attention, by great sensibility of 
 her situation, and great timidity. He had never 
 knowingly given her pain, but he now felt that she 
 required more positive kindness, and with that 
 view endeavored, in the first place, to lessen her 
 fears of them all, and gave her especially a great 
 deal of good advice as to playing with Maria and 
 Julia, and being as merry as possible. 
 
 From this day Fanny grew more comfortable. 
 She felt that she had a friend, and the kindness of 
 her cousin Edmund gave her better spirits with 
 everybody else. The place became less strange. 
 
24 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 and the people less formidable; and if there were 
 some amongst them whom she could not cease to 
 fear, she began at least to know their ways, and to 
 catch the best manner of conforming to them. The 
 little rusticities and awkwardnesses which had at 
 first made grievous inroads on the tranquillity of 
 all, and not least of herself, necessarily wore away, 
 and she was no longer materially afraid to appear 
 before her uncle, nor did her aunt Norris's voice 
 make her start very much. To her cousins she 
 became occasionally an acceptable companion. 
 Though unworthy, from inferiority of age _ and 
 strength, to be their constant associate, their 
 pleasures and schemes were sometimes of a nature 
 to make a third very useful, especially when that 
 third was of an obliging, yielding temper; and 
 they could not but own, when their aunt inquired 
 into her faults, or their brother Edmund urged her 
 claims to their kindness, that Fanny was good- 
 natured enough. 
 
 Edmund was uniformly kind himself; and she 
 had nothing worse to endure on the part of Tom 
 than that sort of merriment which a young man of 
 seventeen will always think fair with a child of 
 ten. He was just entering into life, full of spirits, 
 and wuth all the liberal dispositions of an eldest 
 son, who feels born only for expense and enjoy- 
 ment. His kindness to his little cousin was con- 
 sistent with his situation and rights; he made her 
 some very pretty presents, and laughed at her. 
 
 As her appearance and spirits improved. Sir 
 Thomas and Mrs. Norris thought with greater sat- 
 isfaction of their benevolent plan; and it was 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 25 
 
 pretty soon decided between them that though far 
 from clever, she showed a tractable disposition, and 
 seemed likely to give them little trouble. A mean 
 opinion of her abilities was not confined to them. 
 Fanny could read, work, and write, but she had 
 been taught nothing more; and as her cousins 
 found her ignorant of many things with which 
 they had been long familiar, they thought her pro- 
 digiously stupid, and for the first two or three 
 weeks were continually bringing some fresh report 
 of it into the drawing-room. ^^Dear mamma, only 
 think, my cousin cannot put the map of Europe to- 
 gether — or my cousin cannot tell the principal 
 rivers in Russia — or she never heard of Asia 
 Minor — or she does not know the difference be- 
 tween water-colors^ and crayons ! How strange I 
 Did you ever hear anything so stupid? 
 
 My dear," their considerate aunt would reply, 
 ^^it is very bad; but you must not expect every- 
 body to be as forward and quick at learning as 
 yourself." 
 
 ^^But, aunt, she is really so very ignorant! Do 
 you know, we asked her last night, which way she 
 would go to get to Ireland; and she said, she 
 should cross to the Isle of Wight. She thinks of 
 nothing but the Isle of Wight, and she calls it the 
 Island, as if there were no other island in the 
 world. I am sure I should have been ashamed of 
 myself, if I had not known better long before I 
 was so old as she is. I cannot remember the time 
 when I did not know a great deal that she has not 
 the least notion of yet. How long ago it is, aunt, 
 since we used to repeat the chronological order of 
 
26 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 the kings of England, with the dates of their ac- 
 cession, and most of the principal events of their 
 reigns! " 
 
 ^^Yes, " added the other; and of the Eoman 
 emperors as low as Severus; besides a great deal of 
 the heathen mythology, and all the metals, semi- 
 metals, planets, and distinguished philosophers.'' 
 
 u Ygj-y true, indeed, my dears; but you are 
 blessed with wonderful memories, and your poor 
 cousin has probably none at all. There is a vast 
 deal of difference in memories, as well as in every- 
 thing else, and therefore you must make allowance 
 for your cousin, and pity her de^icienc3^ And re- 
 member that if you are ever so forward and clever 
 yourselves, you should always be modest ; for, much 
 as you know already, there is a great deal more for 
 you to learn. " 
 
 ^^Yes, I know there is, till I am seventeen. 
 But I must tell you another thing of Fanny, so 
 odd and so stupid. Do you know, she says she 
 does not want to learn either music or drawing." 
 
 ^^To be sure, my dear, that is very stupid in- 
 deed, and shows a great want of genius and emu- 
 lation. But, all things considered, I do not know 
 whether it is not as well that it should be so; for, 
 though you know (owing to me) your papa and 
 mamma are so good as to bring her up with you, it 
 is not at all necessary that she should be as accom- 
 plished as you are; on the contrary, it is much 
 more desirable that there should be a difference.'' 
 
 Such were the counsels by which Mrs. Norris 
 assisted to form her nieces' minds; and it is not 
 very wonderful that with all their promising tal- 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 27 
 
 ents and early information, tliey should be entirely 
 deficient in the less common acquirements of self- 
 knowledge, generosity, and humility. In every- 
 thing but disposition they were admirably taught. 
 Sir Thomas did not know what was wanting, be- 
 cause, though a truly anxious father, he was not 
 outwardly affectionate, and the reserve of his man- 
 ner repressed all the flow of their spirits before 
 him. 
 
 To the education of her daughters Lady Ber- 
 tram paid not the smallest attention. She had not 
 time for such cares. She was a woman who spent 
 her days in sitting nicely dressed on a sofa, doing 
 some long piece of needlework, of little use and no 
 beauty, thinking more of her pug than her chil- 
 dren, but very indulgent to the latter, when it did 
 not put herself to inconvenience, guided in every- 
 thing important by Sir Thomas, and in smaller 
 concerns by her sister. Had she possessed greater 
 leisure for the service of her girls, she would prob- 
 ably have supposed it unnecessary, for they were 
 under the care of a governess, with proper masters, 
 and could want nothing more. As for Fanny's 
 being stupid at learning, ^^she could only say it 
 was very unlucky, but some people were stupid, 
 and Fanny must take more pains; she did not 
 know what else was to be done; and, except her 
 being so dull, she must add, she saw no harm in 
 the poor little thing, — and always found her very 
 handy and quick in carrying messages, and fetch- 
 ing what she wanted." 
 
 Fanny, with all her faults of ignorance and ti- 
 midity, was fixed at Mansfield Park, and learning 
 
28 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 to transfer in its favor much of her attachment to 
 her former home, grew up there not unhappily 
 among her cousins. There was no positive ill- 
 nature in Maria or Julia; and though Fanny was 
 often mortified hy their treatment of her, she 
 thought too lowly of her own claims to feel injured 
 by it. 
 
 From about the time of her entering the family, 
 Lady Bertram, in consequence of a little ill-health 
 and a great deal of indolence, gave up the house in 
 town, which she had been used to occupy every 
 spring, and remained wholly in the country^ leav- 
 ing Sir Thomas to attend his dut}^ in Parliament, 
 with whatever increase or diminution of comfort 
 might arise from her absence. In the country, 
 therefore, the Miss Bertrams continued to exercise 
 their memories, practise their duets, and grow tall 
 and womanly ; and their father saw them becoming 
 in person, manner, and accomplishments, every- 
 thing that could satisfy his anxiety. His eldest 
 son was careless and extravagant, and had already 
 given him much uneasiness; but his other children 
 promised him nothing but good. His daughters, 
 he felt, while they retained the name of Bertram, 
 must be giving it new grace, and in quitting it 
 he trusted would extend its respectable alliances; 
 and the character of Edmund, his strong good 
 sense and uprightness of mind, bid most fairly 
 for utility, honor, and happiness to himself and 
 all his connections. He was to be a clergyman. 
 
 Amid the cares and the complacency which his 
 own children suggested, Sir Thomas did not for- 
 get to do what he could for the chi^Iren of Mrs. 
 
MANSEIELD PARK. 
 
 29 
 
 Price: he assisted her liberally in the education 
 and disposal of her sons as they became old enough 
 for a determinate pursuit; and Fanny, though 
 almost totally separated from her family, was 
 sensible of the truest satisfaction in hearing of 
 any kindness towards them, or of anything at all 
 promising in their situation or conduct. Once, 
 and once only in the course of many years,, had 
 she the happiness of being with William. Of 
 the rest she saw nothing : nobody seemed to think 
 of her ever going amongst them again, even for 
 a visit. Nobody at home seemed to want her; but 
 William determining, soon after her removal, to 
 be a sailor, was invited to spend a week with his 
 sister in ISTorthamptonshire, before he went to 
 sea. Their eager affection in meeting, their ex- 
 quisite delight in being together, their hours of 
 happy mirth, and moments of serious conference 
 may be imagined; as well as the sanguine views 
 and spirits of the boy even to the last, and the 
 misery of the girl when he left her. Luckily 
 the visit happened in the Christmas holidays, 
 when she could directly look for comfort to her 
 cousin Edmund; and he told her such charming 
 things of what William was to do and be here- 
 after, in consequence of his profession, as made 
 her gradually admit that the separation might 
 have some use. Edmund^s friendship never failed 
 her : his leaving Eton for Oxford made no change 
 in his kind dispositions, and only afforded more 
 frequent opportunities of proving them. With- 
 out any display of doing more than the rest, or 
 any fear of doing too much, he v/as always true 
 
30 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 to her interests, and considerate of her feelings; 
 trying to make her good qualities understood, 
 and to conquer the diffidence which prevented 
 their being more apparent; giving her advice, 
 consolation, and encouragement. 
 
 Kept back as she was by everybody else, his 
 single support could not bring her forward; but 
 his attention were otherwise of the highest im- 
 portance in assisting the improvement of her 
 mind, and extending its pleasures. He knew 
 her to be clever, to have a quick apprehension 
 as well as good sense, and a fondness for reading 
 which, properly directed, must be an education 
 in itself. Miss Lee taught her French, and 
 heard her read the daily portion of history; but 
 he recommended the books which charmed her 
 leisure hours, he encouraged her taste, and cor- 
 rected her judgment: he made reading useful by 
 talking to her of what she read, and heightened 
 its attraction by judicious praise. In return for 
 such services she loved him better than anybody 
 in the world except William : her heart was di- 
 vided between the two. 
 
CHAPTEE III. 
 
 The first event of any importance in the family 
 was the death of Mr. Norris, which happened 
 when Fanny was about fifteen, and necessarily 
 introduced alterations and novelties. Mrs. Nor- 
 ris, on quitting the Parsonage, removed first to 
 the Park, and afterwards to a small house of Sir 
 Thomas's in the village, and consoled herself for 
 the loss of her husband by considering that she 
 could do very well without him, and for her reduc- 
 tion of income by the evident necessity of stricter 
 economy. 
 
 The living was hereafter for Edmund ; and had 
 his uncle died a few years sooner, it would have 
 been duly given to some friend to hold till he 
 were old enough for orders. But Tom's extrava- 
 gance had, previous to that event, been so great 
 as to render a different disposal of the next pre- 
 sentation necessary, and the younger brother must 
 help to pay for the pleasures of the elder. There 
 was another family living actually held for Ed- 
 mund; but though this circumstance had made 
 the arrangement somewhat easier to Sir Thomas's 
 conscience, he could not but feel it to be an act 
 of injustice, and he earnestly tried to impress his 
 eldest son with the same conviction, in the hope 
 of its producing a better effect than anything he 
 had yet been able to say or do. 
 
32 
 
 MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 ^^I blush for you, Tom/' said he, in his most 
 dignified manner; ^^I blush for the expedient 
 which I am driven on, and I trust I may pity your 
 feelings as a brother on the occasion. You have 
 robbed Edmund for ten, twenty, thirty years, per- 
 haps for life, of more than half the income which 
 ought to be his. It may hereafter be in my power, 
 or in yours (I hope it will), to procure him better 
 preferment; but it must not be forgotten that no 
 bei\efit of that sort would have been beyond his 
 natural claims on us, and that nothing can, in 
 fact, be an equivalent for the certain advantage 
 which he is now obliged to forego through the 
 urgency of your debts.'' 
 
 Tom listened with some shame and some sorrow; 
 but escaping as quickly as possible, could soon 
 with cheerful selfishness reflect, first, that he had 
 not been half so much in debt as some of his 
 friends ; secondly, that his father had made a most 
 tiresome piece of work of it; and, thirdly, that the 
 future incumbent, whoever he might be, would in 
 all probability die verj^ soon. 
 
 On Mr. Norris's death, the presentation became 
 the right of a Dr. Grant, who came consequently to 
 reside at Mansfield; and on proving to be a hearty 
 man of forty-five, seemed likely to disappoint Mr. 
 Bertram's calculations. But ^'No, he was a short- 
 necked, apoplectic sort of fellow, and, plied well 
 with good things, would soon pop off." 
 
 He had a wife about fifteen years his junior, but 
 no children; and they entered the neighborhood 
 with the usual fair report of being very respecta- 
 ble, agreeable people. 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 33 
 
 The time was now come wlien Sir Thomas ex- 
 pected his sister-in-law to claim her share in their 
 niece, the change in Mrs. Norris's situation and 
 the improvement in Fanny's age seeming not 
 merely to do away any former objection to their 
 living together, but even to give it the most de- 
 cided eligibility; and as his own circumstances 
 were rendered less fair than heretofore by some 
 recent losses on his West India estate, in addi- 
 tion to his eldest son's extravagance, it became 
 not undesirable to himself to be relieved from the 
 expense of her support, and the obligation of her 
 future provision. In the fulness of his belief that 
 such a thing must be, he mentioned its probability 
 to his wife; and the first time of the subject's oc- 
 curing to her again happening to be when Fanny 
 was present, she calmly observed to her: ^^So, 
 Fanny, you are going to leave us, and live with 
 my sister. How shall you like it? " 
 
 Fanny was too much surprised to do more than 
 repeat her aunt's words, " Going to leave you? " 
 
 Yes, my dear, why should you be astonished? 
 You have been five years with us, and my sister 
 always meant to take you when Mr. Norris died. 
 But you must come up and tack on my patterns all 
 the same." 
 
 The news was as disagreeable to Fanny as it had 
 been unexpected. She had never received kindness 
 from her aunt Norris, and could not love her. 
 
 ^^I shall be very sorry to go away," said she, 
 with a faltering voice. 
 
 ^^Yes, I dare say you will; that's natural 
 enough. I suppose you have had as little to vex 
 
 VOL. I. — 3 
 
34 
 
 MANSEIELD PARK. 
 
 you since you came into this house as any creature 
 in the world. ^' 
 
 I hope I am not ungrateful, aunt/' said Eanny, 
 modestly. 
 
 ^'InTo, my dear; I hope not. I have always 
 found you a very good girl.'' 
 
 " And am I never to live here again? " 
 
 ' ' Never, my dear ; but you are sure of a com- 
 fortable home. It can make very little difference 
 to you, whether you are in one house or the other." 
 
 Fanny left the room with a very sorrowful heart : 
 she could not feel the difference to be so small, she 
 could not think of living with her aunt with any- 
 thing like satisfaction. As soon as she met with 
 Edmund, she told him her distress. 
 
 Cousin," said she, something is going to 
 happen which I do not like at all ; and though you 
 have often persuaded me into being reconciled to 
 things that I disliked at first, you will not be able 
 to do it now. I am going to live entirely with my 
 aunt Norris." 
 
 ^andeed!" 
 
 ^^Yes, my aunt Bertram has just told me so. 
 It is quite settled. I am to leave Mansfield Park, 
 and go to the White House, I suppose, as soon as 
 she is removed there." 
 
 Well, Fanny, and if the plan w^ere not un- 
 pleasant to you, I should call it an excellent one." 
 Oh, cousin ! " 
 
 ^^It has everything else in its favor. My aunt 
 is acting like a sensible woman in wishing for you. 
 She is choosing a friend and companion exactly 
 where she ought, and I am glad her love of money 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 35 
 
 does not interfere. You will be what you ought 
 to be to her. I hope it does not distress you very 
 much, Fanny. 
 
 Indeed it does; I cannot like it. I love this 
 house and everything in it; I shall love nothing 
 there. You know how uncomfortable I feel with 
 her.'' 
 
 " I can say nothing for her manner to you as a 
 child; but it was the same with us all, or nearly 
 so. She never knew how to be pleasant to chil- 
 dren. But you are now of an age to be treated 
 better; I think she ^5 behaving better already; and 
 when you are her only companion, you must be im- 
 portant to her.'' 
 
 I can never be important to any one." 
 
 ^^What is to prevent you?" 
 
 '^Everything. My situation — my foolishness 
 and awkwardness. ' ' 
 
 '^As to your foolishness and awkwardness, my 
 dear Fanny, believe me, you never have a shadow 
 of either, but in using the words so improperly. 
 There is no reason in the world why you should 
 not be important where you are known. You have 
 good sense and a sweet temper, and I am sure you 
 have a grateful heart, that could never receive 
 kindness without wishing to return it. I do not 
 know any better qualifications for a friend and 
 companion." 
 
 ''You are too kind," said Fanny, coloring at 
 such praise; "how shall I ever thank you as I 
 ought, for thinking so well of me? Oh, cousin, if 
 I am to go away, I shall remember your goodness 
 to the last moment of my life." 
 
36 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 ^^Why, indeed, Fanny, I should hope to "be re- 
 membered at such a distance as the White House. 
 You speak as if you were going two hundred miles 
 off, instead of only across the park; but you will 
 belong to us almost as much as ever. The two 
 families will be meeting every day in the year. 
 The only difference will be that, living with your 
 aunt, you will necessarily be brought forward as 
 you ought to be. Here there are too many whom 
 you can hide behind; but with her you will be 
 forced to speak for yourself.'^ 
 Oh, do not say so." 
 
 ^^I must say it, and say it with pleasure. Mrs. 
 ISTorris is much better fitted than my mother for 
 having the charge of you now. She is of a temper 
 to do a great deal for anybody she really interests 
 herself about, and she will force you to do justice 
 to your natural powers. 
 
 Fanny sighed, and said: ''J. cannot see things 
 as you do; but I ought to believe you to be right 
 rather than myself, and I am very much obliged to 
 you for trying to reconcile me to what must be. If 
 I could suppose my aunt really to care for me, it 
 would be delightful to feel myself of consequence 
 to anybody ! — Here I know I am of none, and 
 yet I love the place so well." 
 
 ^^The place, Fanny, is what you will not quit, 
 though you quit the house. You w^U have as free 
 a command of the park and gardens as ever. Even 
 your constant little heart need not take fright at 
 such a nominal change. You will have the same 
 walks to frequent, the same library to choose from, 
 the same people to look at, the same horse to ride." 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 37 
 
 ^^Very true. Yes, dear old gray pony. Ah, 
 cousin, when I remember how much I used to 
 dread riding, what terrors it gave me to hear it 
 talked of as likely to do me good (oh, how I 
 have trembled at my uncle's opening his lips if 
 horses were talked of) ; and then think of the kind 
 pains you took to reason and persuade me out of my 
 fears, and convince me that I should like it after 
 a little while, and feel how right you proved to 
 be, — I am inclined to hope you may always 
 prophesy as welL" 
 
 ^^And I am quite convinced that your being 
 wdth Mrs. JSTorris will be as good for your mind as 
 riding has been for your health, and as much for 
 your ultimate happiness too.'' 
 
 So ended their discourse, which, for any very 
 appropriate service it could render Fanny, might 
 as well have been spared, for Mrs. ISTorris had not 
 the smallest intention of taking her. It had never 
 occurred to her on the present occasion but as a 
 thing to be carefully avoided. To prevent its 
 being expected, she had fixed on the smallest hab- 
 itation which could rank as genteel among the 
 buildings of Mansfield parish; the White House 
 being only just large enough to receive herself and 
 her servants, and allow a spare room for a friend, 
 of which she made a very particular point. The 
 spare rooms at the Parsonage had never been 
 wanted, but the absolute necessity of a spare room 
 for a friend was now never forgotten. Kot all her 
 precautions, however, could save her from being 
 suspected of something better; or perhaps, her 
 very display of the importance of a spare room 
 
38 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 might "have misled Sir Thomas to suppose it really 
 intended for Fanny. Lady Bertram soon brought 
 the matter to a certainty, by carelessly observing 
 to Mrs. Norris, — 
 
 ^^I think, sister, we need not keep Miss Lee 
 any longer, when Fanny goes to live with you? 
 
 Mrs. IS^orris almost started. ^^Live with me, 
 dear Lady Bertram! what do you mean? 
 
 ^^Is not she to live with you? I thought you 
 had settled it with Sir Thomas? 
 
 '^Me! never. I never spoke a sjdlable about it 
 to Sir Thomas, nor he to me. Fanny live with 
 me ! — the last thing in the world for me to think of, 
 or for anybody to wish that reallj^ knows us both. 
 Good heaven! what could I do with Fanny? Me, 
 a poor, helpless, forlorn widow, unfit for anything, 
 my spirits quite broken down, — what could I do 
 with a girl at her time of life; a girl of fifteen! 
 the very age of all others to need most attention 
 and care, and put the cheerfullest spirits to the 
 test. Sure, Sir Thomas could not seriously expect 
 such a thing! Sir Thomas is too much my friend. 
 Nobody that wishes me well, I am sure, would 
 propose it. How came Sir Thomas to speak to 
 you about it? 
 
 " Indeed, I do not know. I suppose he thought 
 it best.'' 
 
 ^^But what did he say? He could not say he 
 wished me to take Fanny. I am sure in his heart 
 he could not wish me to do it." 
 
 ^^No, he only said he thought it very likely, — 
 and I thought so too. We both thought it would 
 be a comfort to you. But if you do not like it, 
 
MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 39 
 
 there is no more to be said. She is no incum- 
 brance here.'^ 
 
 ^^Dear sister! If you consider my unhappy 
 state, how can she be any comfort to me? Here 
 am I, a poor desolate widow, deprived of the best 
 of husbands, my health gone in attending and 
 nursing him, my spirits still worse, all my peace 
 in this world destroyed, with barely enough to 
 support me in the rank of a gentlewoman, and 
 enable me to live so as not to disgrace the memory 
 of the dear departed, — what possible comfort could 
 I have in taking such a charge upon me as Fanny? 
 If I could wish it for my own sake, I would not do 
 so unjust a thing by the poor girl. She is in good 
 hands, and sure of doing well. I must struggle 
 through my sorrows and difficulties as I can.'' 
 
 ^^Then you will not mind living by yourself 
 quite alone? " 
 
 ^^Dear Lady Bertram! what am I fit for but 
 solitude? ISiow and then I shall hope to have a 
 friend in my little cottage (I shall always have a 
 bed for a friend) ; but the most part of my future 
 days will be spent in utter seclusion. If I can 
 but make both ends micet, that 's all I ask for.'' 
 
 " I hope, sister, things are not so very bad with 
 you neither, — considering Sir Thomas says you 
 will have six hundred a year." 
 
 ^^Lady Bertram, I do not complain. I know I 
 cannot live as I have done, but I must retrench 
 where I can, and learn to be a better manager. 1 
 have been a liberal housekeeper enough, but I 
 shall not be ashamed to practise economj^ now. 
 My situation is as much altered as my income, A 
 
40 
 
 MANSFIELD PAKE. 
 
 great many things were due from poor Mr. Norris 
 as clergyman of tlie parish that cannot be expected 
 from me. It is unknown how much was consumed 
 in our kitchen by odd comers and goers. At the 
 White House matters must be better looked after. 
 I must live within my income, or I shall be mis- 
 erable ; and I own it would give me great satisfac- 
 tion to be able to do rather more, — to lay by a 
 little at the end of the year.'^ 
 
 ^^I dare say you will. You always do, don't 
 you?" 
 
 ^^My object, Lady Bertram, is to be of use to 
 those that come after me. It is for your children's 
 good that I wish to be richer. I have nobody else 
 to care for; but I should be very glad to think I 
 could leave a little trifle among them worth their 
 having. 
 
 You are very good, but do not trouble yourself 
 about them. They are sure of being well pro- 
 vided for. Sir Thomas will take care of that.'' 
 
 Why, you know Sir Thomas's means will be 
 rather straitened, if the Antigua estate is to make 
 such poor returns." 
 
 ^^Oh, that will soon be settled. Sir Thomas 
 has been writing about it, I know." 
 
 ^^Well, Lady Bertram," said Mrs. l^orris, mov- 
 ing to go, ^^I can only say that my sole desire is 
 to be of use to your family; and so if Sir Thomas 
 should ever speak again about my taking Fanny, 
 you will be able to say that my health and spirits 
 put it quite out of the question, — besides that, I 
 really should not have a bed to give her, for I 
 must keep a spare room for a friend." 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 41 
 
 Lady Bertram repeated enough of tliis conver- 
 sation to her hushand to convince him how much 
 he had mistaken his sister-in-hiw's views; and she 
 was from that moment perfectly safe from all ex- 
 pectation, or the slightest allusion to it from him. 
 He could not but wonder at her refusing to do 
 anything for a niece whom she had been so forward 
 to adopt; but as she took early care to make him, 
 as well as Lady Bertram, understand that what- 
 ever she possessed was designed for their family, 
 he soon grew reconciled to a distinction which at 
 the same time that it was advantageous and com- 
 plimentary to them would enable him better to 
 provide for Fanny himself. 
 
 Fanny soon learned how unnecessary had been 
 her fears of a removal; and her spontaneous, un- 
 taught felicity on the discovery conveyed some 
 consolation to Edmund for his disappointment in 
 what he had expected to be so essentially service- 
 able to her. Mrs. ISTorris took possession of the 
 White House, the Grants arrived at the Parsonage ; 
 and these events over, everything at Mansfield 
 went on for some time as usual. 
 
 The Grants, showing a disposition to be friendly 
 and sociable, gave great satisfaction in the main 
 among their new acquaintance. They had their 
 faults, and Mrs. ISTorris soon found them out. The 
 Doctor was very fond of eating, and would have a 
 good dinner every day; and Mrs. Grant, instead 
 of contriving to gratify him at little expense, gave 
 her cook as high wages as they did at Mansfield 
 Park, and was scarcely ever seen in her offices. 
 Mrs. Norris could not speak with any temper of 
 
42 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 siicli grievances, nor of the quantity of butter and 
 eggs that were regularly consumed in the house. 
 ^^I^obody loved plenty and hospitality more than 
 herself, — nobody more hated pitiful doings, — the 
 Parsonage she believed had never been wanting in 
 comforts of any sort, had never borne a bad char- 
 acter in her time ; but this was a way of going on 
 that she could not understand. A fine lady in a 
 country parsonage was quite out of place. Her 
 storeroom she thought might have been good 
 enough for Mrs. Grant to go into. Inquire where 
 she would, she could not find out that Mrs.. Grant 
 had ever had more than five thousand pounds.'^ 
 
 Lady Bertram listened without much interest to 
 this sort of invective. She could not enter into 
 the wrongs of an economist, but she felt all the 
 injuries of beauty in Mrs. Grant's being so well 
 settled in life without being handsome, and ex- 
 pressed her astonishment on that point almost as 
 often, though not so diffusely, as Mrs. Norris 
 discussed the other. 
 
 These opinions had been hardly canvassed a j^ear 
 before another event arose of such importance in 
 the family as might fairly claim some place in the 
 thoughts and conversation of the ladies. Sir 
 Thomas found it expedient to go to Antigua him- 
 self, for the better arrangement of his affairs; and 
 he took his eldest son with him, in the hope of 
 detaching him from some bad connections at home. 
 They left England with the probability of being 
 nearly a twelvemonth absent. 
 
 The necessity of the measure in a pecuniary 
 light, and the hope of its utility to his son recon- 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 43 
 
 ciled Sir Thomas to the effort of quitting the rest 
 of his family, and of leaving his daughters to the 
 direction of others at their present most interest- 
 ing time of life. He could not think Lady Ber- 
 tram quite equal to supply his place with them, or 
 rather to perform what should have been her own; 
 hut in Mrs. Korris's watchful attention and in Ed- 
 mund's judgment he had sufficient confidence to 
 make him go without fears for their conduct. 
 
 Lady Bertram did not at all like to have her 
 husband leave her; but she was not disturbed by 
 any alarm for his safety or solicitude for his com- 
 fort, being one of those persons who think nothing 
 can be dangerous or difficult or fatiguing to any- 
 body but themselves. 
 
 The Miss Bertrams were much to be pitied on 
 the occasion, — not for their sorrow, but for their 
 want of it. Their father was no object of love to 
 them; he had never seemed the friend of their 
 pleasures, and his absence was unhappily most 
 welcome. They were relieved by it from all re- 
 straint; and without aiming at one gratification 
 that would probably have been forbidden by Sir 
 Thomas, they felt themselves immediately at their 
 own disposal, and to have every indulgence wathin 
 their reach. Eanny's relief and her consciousness 
 of it were quite equal to her cousin's; but a more 
 tender nature suggested that her feelings were un- 
 grateful, and she really grieved because she could 
 not grieve. " Sir Thomas, who had done so much 
 for her and her brothers, and who was gone per- 
 haps never to return! that she should see him go 
 without a tear! it was a shameful insensibility.'' 
 
44 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 •He had said to her, moreover, on the very last 
 morning, that he hoped she might see William 
 again in the course of the ensuing winter, and had 
 charged her to write and invite him to Mansfield 
 as soon as the squadron to which he belonged 
 should be known to be in England. ^^This was 
 so thoughtful and kind! and would he only have 
 smiled upon her and called her my dear Fanny,'' 
 while he said it, every former frown or cold ad- 
 dress might have been forgotten. But he had 
 ended his speech in a way to sink her in sad mor- 
 tification, by adding, ^^If William does come to 
 Mansfield, I hope you may be able to convince him 
 that the many years which have passed since you 
 parted have not been spent on your side entirely 
 without improvement, — though I fear he must 
 find his sister at sixteen in some respects too 
 much like his sister at ten.'' She cried bitterly 
 over this reflection when her uncle was gone; and 
 her cousins, on seeing her with red eyeS; set her 
 down as a hypocrite. 
 
CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 Tom Bertram had of late spent so little of his 
 time at home that he could be only nominally 
 missed; and Lady Bertram was soon astonished to 
 find how very well they did even without his 
 father, — how well Edmund could supply his place 
 in carving, talking to the steward, writing to the 
 attorney, settling with the servants, and equally 
 saving her from all possible fatigue or exertion in 
 every particular but that of directing her letters. 
 
 The earliest intelligence of the travellers' safe 
 arrival in Antigua, after a favorable voyage, was 
 received; though not before Mrs. Norris had been 
 indulging in very dreadful fears, and trying to 
 make Edmund participate them whenever she could 
 get him alone ; and as she depended on being the 
 first person made acquainted with any fatal catas- 
 trophe, she had already arranged the manner of 
 breaking it to all the others, when Sir Thomas's 
 assurances of their both being alive and well made 
 it necessary to lay by her agitation and affectionate 
 preparatory speeches for a while. 
 
 The winter came and passed without their being 
 called for; the accounts continued perfectly good; 
 and Mrs. ISTorris, in promoting gayeties for her 
 nieces, assisting their toilettes, displaying their 
 
46 
 
 MANSFIELD PAEK. 
 
 accomplisliments, and looking about for their fu- 
 ture husbands, had so much to do as, in addition 
 to all her own household cares, some interference 
 in those of her sister, and Mrs. Grant's wasteful 
 doings to overlook, left her very little occasion to 
 be occupied even in fears for the absent. 
 
 The Miss Bertrams were now fully established 
 among the belles of the neighborhood; and as they 
 joined to beauty and brilliant acquirements a man- 
 ner naturally easy, and carefully formed to general 
 civility and obligingness, they possessed its favor 
 as well as its admiration. Their vanity was in 
 such good order that they seemed to be quite free 
 from it, and gave themselves no airs; while the 
 praises attending such behavior, secured and 
 brought round by their aunt, served to strengthen 
 them in believing they had no faults. 
 
 Lady Bertram did not go into public wnth her 
 daughters. She was too indolent even to ac- 
 cept a mother's gratification in witnessing their 
 success and enjoyment at the expense of any per- 
 sonal trouble ; and the charge was made over to her 
 sister, who desired nothing better than a post of 
 such honorable representation, and very thor- 
 oughly relished the means it afforded her of mix- 
 ing in society without having horses to hire. 
 
 Fanny had no share in the festivities of the sea- 
 son; but she enjoyed being avowedly useful as her 
 aunt's companion, when they called away the rest 
 of the family; and as Miss Lee had left Mansfield, 
 she naturally became everything to Lady Bertram 
 during the night of a ball or a party. She talked 
 to her, listened to her, read to her; and the tran- 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 47 
 
 quill ity of such evenings^ her perfect security in 
 such a tete-a-tete from any sound of unkinclness, 
 was unspeakably welcome to a mind w^iich had 
 seldom known a pause in its alarms or embarrass- 
 ments. As to her cousins' gayeties, she loved to 
 hear an account of them, especially of the balls 
 and whom Edmund had danced with; but thought 
 too lowly of her own situation to imagine she 
 should ever be admitted to the same, and listened 
 therefore without an idea of any nearer concern in 
 them. Upon the whole, it was a comfortable win- 
 ter to her; for though it brought no William to 
 England, the never-failing hope of his arrival w^as 
 worth much. 
 
 The ensuing sj^ring deprived her of her valued 
 friend the old gray pony, and for some time she 
 was in danger of feeling the loss in her health as 
 well as in her affections; for in spite of the ac- 
 knowledged importance of her riding on horseback, 
 no measures w^ere taken for mounting her again, 
 
 because,'' as it was observed by her aunts, ^^she 
 might ride one of her cousins' horses at any time 
 when they did not want them; " and as the Miss 
 Bertrams regularly wanted their horses every fine 
 day, and had no idea of carrying their obliging 
 manners to the sacrifice of any real pleasure, that 
 time, of course, never came. They took their 
 cheerful rides in the fine mornings of April and 
 May; and Fanny either sat at home the whole 
 day with one aunt, or walked beyond her strength 
 at the instigation of the other, — Lady Bertram 
 holding exercise to be as unnecessary for every- 
 body as it was unpleasant to herself; and Mrs. 
 
48 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 Korris, who was walking all day, thinking every- 
 body ought to walk as much. Edmund was absent 
 at this time, or the evil would have been earlier 
 remedied. When he returned, to understand how 
 Fanny was situated, and perceived its ill effects, 
 there seemed with him but one thing to be done; 
 and that Fanny must have a horse was the 
 resolute declaration with which he opposed what- 
 ever could be urged by the supineness of his 
 mother, or the economy of his aunt, to make it 
 appear unimportant. Mrs. Norris could not help 
 thinking that some steady old thing might be 
 found among the numbers belonging to the Park, 
 that would do vastly well; or that one might be 
 borrowed of the steward; or that perhaps Dr. 
 Grant might now and then lend them the pony 
 he sent to the post. She could not but consider it 
 as absolutely unnecessary and even improper, that 
 Fanny should have a regular lady's horse of her 
 own, in the style of her cousins. She was sure Sir 
 Thomas had never intended it; and she must say 
 that to be making such a purchase in his absence, 
 and adding to the great expenses of his stable at 
 a time when a large part of his income was unset- 
 tled, seemed to her very unjustifiable. Fanny 
 must have a horse," was Edmund's only reply. 
 Mrs. ISTorris could not see it in the same light. 
 Lady Bertram did; she entirely agreed with her 
 son as to the necessity of it, and as to its be- 
 ing considered necessary by his father: she only 
 pleaded against there being any hurry; she only 
 wanted him to wait till Sir Thomas's return, and 
 then Sir Thomas might settle it all himself. He 
 
IVIANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 49 
 
 would be at home in September, and where would 
 be the harm of only waiting till September? 
 
 Though Edmund was much more displeased with 
 his aunt than with his mother, as evincing least 
 regard for her niece, he could not help paying more 
 attention to what she said, and at length deter- 
 mined on a method of proceeding which would ob- 
 viate the risk of his father's thinking he had done 
 too much, and at the same time procure for Fanny 
 the immediate means of exercise, which he could 
 not bear she should be without. He had three 
 horses of his own, but not one that WV)uld carry a 
 woman. Two of them were hunters; the third, a 
 useful road-horse : this third he resolved to ex- 
 change for one that his cousin might ride; he 
 knew where such a one was to be met with ; and 
 having once made up his mind, the whole business 
 was soon completed. The new mare proved a 
 treasure; with a very little trouble, she became 
 exactly calculated for the purpose, and Fanny was 
 then put in almost full possession of her. She had 
 not supposed before, that anything could ever suit 
 her like the old gray pony; but her delight in Ed- 
 mund's mare was far beyond any former pleasure 
 of the sort; and the addition it was ever receiving 
 in the consideration of that kindness from which 
 her pleasure sprung, was beyond all her words to 
 express. She regarded her cousin as an exam- 
 ple of everything good and great, as possessing 
 worth which no one but herself could ever appre- 
 ciate, and as entitled to such gratitude from her 
 as no feelings could be strong enough to pay. 
 Her sentiments towards him were compounded 
 
50 
 
 MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 of all that was respectful, grateful, confiding, 
 and tender. 
 
 As the horse continued in name, as well as 
 fact, the property of Edmund, Mrs. Norris could 
 tolerate its being for Fanny'"s use; and had Lady 
 Bertram ever thought about her own objection 
 again, he might have been excused in her eyes 
 for not waiting till Sir Thomas's return in Sep- 
 tember, — for when September came, Sir Thomas 
 was still abroad, and without any near prospect 
 of finishing his business. Unfavorable circum- 
 stances had*suddenly arisen at a moment when 
 he was beginning to turn all his thoughts towards 
 England; and the very great uncertainty in which 
 everything was then involved determined him 
 on sending home his son, and waiting the final 
 arrangement by himself. Tom arrived safely, 
 bringing an excellent account of his father's 
 health; but to very little purpose, as far as Mrs. 
 Norris was concerned. Sir Thomas's sending 
 away his son seemed to her so like a parent's 
 care, under the influence of a foreboding of evil 
 to himself, that she could not help feeling dread- 
 ful presentiments; and as the long evenings of 
 autumn came on, was so terribly haunted by 
 these ideas, in the sad solitariness of her cottage, 
 as to be obliged to take daily refuge in the dining- 
 room of the Park. The return of winter engage- 
 ments, however, was not without its effect; and 
 in the course of their progress her mind became 
 so pleasantly occupied in superintending the for- 
 tunes of her eldest niece as tolerably to quiet 
 her nerves. ^^If poor Sir Thomas were fated 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 51 
 
 never to return, it would be peculiarly consoling 
 to see their dear Maria well married/' she very 
 often thought; always when they were in the 
 company of men of fortune, and particularly on 
 the introduction of a young man who had recently 
 succeeded to one of the largest estates and finest 
 places in the country. 
 
 Mr. Eush worth was from the first struck with 
 the beauty of Miss Bertram, and, being inclined 
 to marry, soon fancied himself in love. He was 
 a heavy young man, with not more than common 
 sense; but as there was nothing disagreeable in 
 his figure or address, the young lady was well 
 pleased with her conquest. Being now in her 
 twenty-first year, Maria Bertram was beginning 
 to think matrimony a duty; and as a marriage 
 with Mr. Kushworth would give her the enjoy- 
 ment of a larger income than her father's as well 
 as insure her the house in town, which was now 
 a prime object, it became, by the same rule of 
 moral obligation, her evident duty to marry Mr. 
 Eush worth if she could. Mrs. ISTorris was most 
 zealous in promoting the match, by every sugges- 
 tion and contrivance likely to enhance its desir- 
 ableness to either party; and, among other means, 
 by seeking an intimacy with the gentleman's 
 mother, who at present lived with him, and to 
 whom she even forced Lady Bertram to go through 
 ten miles of indifferent road to pay a morning 
 visit. It was not long before a good understand- 
 ing took place between this lady and herself. 
 Mrs. Rushworth acknowledged herself very desi- 
 rous that her son should marry, and declared 
 
62 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 that of all the young ladies she had ever seen, 
 Miss Bertram seemed, by her amiable qualities 
 and accomplishments, the best adapted to make 
 him happy. Mrs. Norris accepted the compli- 
 ment, and admired the nice discernment of charac- 
 ter which could so well distinguish merit. Maria 
 was indeed the pride and delight of them all, — 
 perfectly faultless, an angel, — and of course, so 
 surrounded by admirers, must be difficult in her 
 choice; but yet, as far as Mrs. Norris could 
 allow herself to decide on so short an acquaint- 
 ance, Mr. Rushworth appeared precisely tlie young 
 man to deserve and attach her. 
 
 After dancing with each other at a proper num- 
 ber of balls, the young people justified these opin- 
 ions; and an engagement, with a due reference to 
 the absent Sir Thomas, was entered into, much to 
 the satisfaction of their respective families, and of 
 the general lookers-on of the neighborhood, who 
 had for manj^ weeks past felt the expediency of 
 Mr. Rushworth's marrying Miss Bertram. 
 
 It was some months before Sir Thomas's consent 
 could be received; but in the mean while, as no 
 one felt a doubt of his most cordial pleasure in the 
 connection, the intercourse of the two families was 
 carried on without restraint, and no other attempt 
 made at secrecy than Mrs. Norris's talking of it 
 everywhere as a matter not to be talked of at 
 present. 
 
 Edmund was the only one of the family who 
 could see a fault in the business; but no represen- 
 tation of his aunt's could induce him to find Mr. 
 Bushworth a desirable companion. He could allow 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 53 
 
 his sister to be the best judge of her own happiness, 
 but he was not pleased that her happiness should 
 centre in a large income; nor could he refrain from 
 often saying to himself, in Mr. Rushworth's com- 
 pany, ^^If this man had not twelve thousand a 
 year, he would be a very stupid fellow.'^ 
 
 Sir Thomas, however, was truly happy in the 
 prospect of an alliance so unquestionably advanta- 
 geous, and of which he heard nothing but the per- 
 fectly good and agreeable. It was a connection 
 exactly of the right sort, — in the same county 
 and the same interest, — and his most hearty con- 
 currence was conveyed as soon as possible. He 
 only conditioned that the marriage should not take 
 place before his return, which he was again looking 
 eagerly forward to. He wrote in April, and had 
 strong hopes of settling everything to his entire 
 satisfaction, and leaving Antigua before the end of 
 the summer. 
 
 Such was the state of affairs in the month of 
 July; and Fanny had just reached her eighteenth 
 year, when the society of the village received an 
 addition in the brother and sister of Mrs. Grant, 
 a Mr. and Miss Crawford, the children of her 
 mother by a second marriage. They were young 
 people of fortune. The son had a good estate in 
 Norfolk; the daughter twenty thousand pounds. 
 As children, their sister had always been very fond 
 of them ; but as her own marriage had been soon 
 followed by the death of their common parent, 
 which left them to the care of a brother of their 
 father, of whom Mrs. Grant knew nothing, she 
 had scarcely seen them since. In their nucleus 
 
54 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 house tliey had found a kind home. Admiral and 
 Mrs. Crawford, though agreeing in nothing else, 
 were united in affection for these children, or, at 
 least, were no further adverse in their feelings 
 than that each had their favorite, to whom they 
 showed the greatest fondness of the two. The Ad- 
 miral delighted in the boy, Mrs. Crawford doted 
 on the girl; and it was the lady's death which now 
 obliged her protegee, after some months' further 
 trial at her uncle's house, to find another home. 
 Admiral Crawford was a man of vicious conduct, 
 who chose, instead of retaining his niece, to bring 
 his mistress under his own roof; and to this Mrs. 
 Grant was indebted for her sister's proposal of 
 coming to her, — a measure quite as welcome on one 
 side as it could be expedient on the other; for Mrs. 
 Grant, having by this time run through the usual 
 resources of ladies residing in the country without 
 a family of children, — having more than filled 
 her favorite sitting-room with pretty furniture, 
 and made a choice collection of plants and poultry, 
 — was very much in want of some variety at home. 
 The arrival, therefore, of a sister whom she had 
 always loved, and now hoped to retain with her as 
 long as she remained single, was highly agreeable; 
 and her chief anxiety was lest Mansfield should 
 not satisfy the habits of a young woman who had 
 been mostly used to London. 
 
 Miss Crawford was not entirely free from similar 
 apprehensions, though they arose principally from 
 doubts of her sister's style of living and tone of 
 society ; and it was not till after she had tried in 
 vain to persuade her brother to settle with her at 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 55 
 
 his, own country house, that she could resolve to 
 hazard herself among her other relations. To any- 
 thing like a permanence of abode or limitation of 
 society, Henry Crawford had, unluckily, a great 
 dislike : he could not accommodate his sister in an 
 article of such importance; but he escorted her 
 with the utmost kindness into ISTorthamptonshirej 
 and as readily engaged to fetch her away again, at 
 half an hour's notice, whenever she were w^eary of 
 the place. 
 
 The meeting was very satisfactory on each side. 
 Miss Crawford found a sister without preciseness 
 or rusticity, a sister's husband who looked the 
 gentleman, and a house commodious and well-fitted 
 up; and Mrs. Grant received in those whom she 
 hoped to love better than ever, a young man and 
 woman of very prepossessing appearance. Mary 
 Crawford was remarkably pretty; Henry, though 
 not handsome, had air and countenance; the man- 
 ners of both were lively and pleasant, and Mrs. 
 Grant immediately gave them credit for everything 
 else. She was delighted with each, but Mary was 
 her dearest object; and having never been able to 
 glory in beauty of her own, she thoroughly enjoyed 
 the power of being proud of her sister's. She had 
 not waited her arrival to look out for a suitable 
 match for her ; she had fixed on Tom Bertram : the 
 eldest son of a Baronet was not too good for a girl 
 of twenty thousand pounds, with all the elegance 
 and accomplishments w^hich Mrs. Grant foresaw in 
 her; and being a warm-hearted, unreserved woman, 
 Mary had not been three hours in the house before 
 she told her what she had planned. 
 
56 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 Miss Crawford was glad to find a family of such 
 consequence so very near tliem, and not at all dis- 
 pleased, either at her sister's early care or the 
 choice it had fallen on. Matrimony was her object, 
 provided she could marry well ; and having seen 
 Mr. Bertram in town, she knew that objection 
 could no more be made to his person than to his 
 situation in life. While she treated it as a joke, 
 therefore, she did not forget to think of it seri- 
 ously. The scheme was soon repeated to Henry. 
 
 ^^And now,'^ added Mrs. Grant, ^^I have 
 thought of something to make it quite complete. 
 I should dearly love to settle you both in this 
 country; and therefore, Henry, you shall marry 
 the youngest Miss Bertram, — a nice, handsome, 
 good-humored, accomplished girl, who will make 
 you very happy.'' 
 
 Henry bowed, and thanked her. 
 
 My dear sister," said Mar}^, ^^if you can per- 
 suade him into anything of the sort, it will be a 
 fresh matter of delight to me to find myself allied 
 to anybody so clever, and I shall only regret that 
 you have not half-a-dozen daughters to dispose of. 
 If you can persuade Henry to marry, you must 
 have the address of a Frenchwoman. All that 
 English abilities can do has been tried already. I 
 have three very particular friends who have been 
 all dying for him in their turn; and the pains 
 which they, their mothers (very clever women), as 
 well as my dear aunt and myself, have taken to 
 reason, coax, or trick him into marrying, is in- 
 conceivable! He is the most horrible flirt that 
 can be imagined. If your Miss Bertrams do not 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 57 
 
 like to have their hearts broke^ let them avoid 
 Henry/' 
 
 ^^My dear brother, I will not believe this of 
 you.'' 
 
 '^^Of I am sure you are too good. You will be 
 kinder than Mary. You will allow for the doubts 
 of youth and inexperience. I am of a cautious 
 temper, and unwilling to risk my happiness in a 
 hurry. Nobody can think more highly of the ma- 
 trimonial state than myself. I consider the bless- 
 ing of a wife as most justly described in those 
 discreet lines of the poet, ' Heaven's last, best 
 gift.'" 
 
 There, Mrs. Grant, you see how he dwells on 
 one word, and only look at his smile ! I assure you 
 he is very detestable, — the Admiral's lessons have 
 quite spoiled him." 
 
 ^^I pay very little regard," said Mrs. Grant, 
 ^'to what any young person says on the subject of 
 marriage. If they profess a disinclination for it, 
 I only set it down that they have not yet seen the 
 right person." 
 
 Dr. Grant laughingly congratulated Miss Craw- 
 ford on feeling no disinclination to the state 
 herself. 
 
 ^^Oh, yes, I am not at all ashamed of it. I 
 would have everybody marry if they can do it 
 properly. I do not like to have people throw them- 
 selves away; but everybody should marry as soon 
 as they can do it to advantage." 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 The young people were pleased with each other 
 from the first. On each side there was much to 
 attract, and their acquaintance soon promised as 
 early an intimacy as good manners would warrant. 
 Miss Crawford's beauty did her no disservice with 
 the Miss Bertrams. They were too handsome 
 themselves to dislike any woman for being so too, 
 and were almost as much charmed as their brothers 
 with her lively dark eye, clear brown complexion, 
 and general prettiness. Had she been tall, full 
 formed, and fair, it might have been more of a 
 trial: but as it was, there could be no comparison; 
 and she was most allowably a sweet pretty girl, 
 while they were the finest young women in the 
 country. 
 
 Her brother was not handsome : no, when they 
 first saw him, he was absolutely plain, black and 
 plain; but still he was the gentleman, with a 
 pleasing address. The second meeting proved 
 him not so very plain: he was plain, to be sure; 
 but then he had so much countenance, and his 
 teeth were so good^ and he was so well made, that 
 one soon forgot he was plain; and after a third 
 interview, after dining in company Vvdth him at 
 the Parsonage, he was no longer allowed to be 
 called so by anybody. He was, in fact, the most 
 agreeable young man the sisters had ever known, 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 59 
 
 and they were equally deliglited with him. Miss 
 Bertram's engagement made him in equity the 
 property of Julia, of which Julia was fully aware; 
 and before he had been at Mansfield a week she 
 was quite ready to be fallen in love with. 
 
 Maria's notions on the subject were more con- 
 fused and indistinct. She did not want to see or 
 understand. There could be no harm in her 
 liking an agreeable man, — everybody knew her 
 situation, — Mr. Crawford must take care of him- 
 self. Mr. Crawford did not mean to be in any 
 danger: the Miss Bertrams were worth pleasing, 
 and were ready to be pleased; and he began with 
 no object but of making them like him. He did not 
 want them to die of love; but with sense and 
 temper which ought to have made him judge and 
 feel better, he allowed himself great latitude on 
 such points. 
 
 ^^I like your Miss Bertrams exceedingly, sis- 
 ter,'' said he, as he returned from attending them 
 to their carriage after the said dinner visit; '^thej 
 are very elegant, agreeable girls." 
 
 ^•So they are, indeed, and I am delighted to 
 hear you say it. But you like Julia best." 
 Oh, yes, I like Julia best." 
 
 ^^But do you really? for Miss Bertram is in 
 general thought the handsomest." 
 
 ^^So I should suppose. She has the advantage 
 in every feature, and I prefer her countenance; 
 but I like Julia best. Miss Bertram is certainly 
 the handsomest, and I have found her the most 
 agreeable; but I shall always like Julia best, be* 
 cause you order me." 
 
60 
 
 MANSPIELD PARK. 
 
 I shall not talk to you, Henry, but I know 
 you will like her best at last/' 
 
 ^^Do not I tell you that I like her best at 
 first?" 
 
 ^^And besides, Miss Bertram is engaged. 
 Remember that, my dear brother. Her choice 
 is made.'^ 
 
 ^^Yes, and I like her the better for it. An 
 engaged woman is always more agreeable than a 
 disengaged. She is satisfied with herself. Her 
 cares are over, and she feels that she may exert all 
 her powers of pleasing without suspicion. All is 
 safe with a lady engaged; no harm can be done.'' 
 
 ^^Why, as to that, Mr. Rush worth is a very 
 good sort of young man, and it is a great match 
 for her." 
 
 ^^But Miss Bertram does not care three straws 
 for him; that is your opinion of your intimate 
 friend. I do not subscribe to it. I am sure Miss 
 Bertram is very much attached to Mr. Rushworth. 
 I could see it in her eyes, when he was mentioned. 
 I think too well of Miss Bertram to suppose she 
 would ever give her hand without her heart." 
 
 ^^Mary, how shall we manage him?" 
 
 ^^We must leave him to himself, I believe. 
 Talking does no good. He will be taken in at 
 last." 
 
 '^But I would not have him taken in, I would 
 not have him duped; I would have it all fair and 
 honorable." 
 
 ^^Oh dear, — let him stand his chance and be 
 taken in. It will do just as well. Everybody is 
 taken in at some period or other." 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 61 
 
 '^ITot always in marriage, dear Mary/' 
 ^^In marriage especially. With all due respect 
 to such of the present company as chance to be 
 married, my dear Mrs. Grant, there is not one in 
 a hundred of either sex who is not taken in when 
 they marry. Look where I will, I see that it is 
 so; and I feel that it must be so, whea I consider 
 that it is, of all transactions, the one in which 
 people expect most from others, and are least 
 honest themselves.'^ 
 
 Ah! You have been in a bad school for matri- 
 mony, in Hill Street." 
 
 " My poor aunt had certainly little cause to love 
 the state; but, however, speaking from my own 
 observation, it is a manoeuvring business. I 
 know so many who have married in the full ex- 
 pectation and confidence of some one particular 
 advantage in the connection, or accomplishment or 
 good quality in the person, who have found them- 
 selves entirely deceived, and been obliged to put 
 up with exactly the reverse! What is this but a 
 take in?'' 
 
 ^^My dear child, there must be a little imagina- 
 tion here. I beg your pardon, but I cannot quite 
 believe you. Depend upon it, you see but half. 
 You see the evil, but jou do not 'jee the consola- 
 tion. There will be little rubs and disappoint- 
 ments everywhere, and we are all apt to expect too 
 much; but then, if one scheme of happiness fails, 
 human nature turns to another: if the first calcu- 
 lation is wrong, we make a second better; we find 
 comfort somewhere, — and those evil-minded ob- 
 servers, dearest Mary, who make much of a little, 
 
62 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 are more taken in and deceived than the parties 
 themselves.'^ 
 
 ^'Well done, sister! I honor your esprit du 
 corps. When I am a wife, I mean to be just as 
 stanch myself; and I wish my friends in gen- 
 eral would be so too. It would save me many 
 a heart-ache. 
 
 '^You are as bad as your brother, Mary; but 
 we will cure you both. Mansfield shall cure you 
 both, and without any taking in. Stay with us, 
 and we will cure you.'' 
 
 The CraAvfords, without wanting to be_ cured, 
 were very willing to stay. Mary was satisfied 
 with the Parsonage as a present home, and Henry 
 equally ready to lengthen his visit. He had come, 
 intending to spend only a few days with them; 
 but Mansfield promised well, and there was noth- 
 ing to call him elsewhere. It delighted Mrs. 
 Grant to keep them both with her, and Dr. Grant 
 was exceedingly well contented to have it so: a 
 talking pretty young woman like Miss Crawford is 
 alwaj^s pleasant society to an indolent, stay-at- 
 home man; and Mr. Crawford's being his guest 
 was an excuse for drinking claret every day. 
 
 The Miss Bertrams' admiration of Mr. Craw- 
 ford was more rapturous than anything which Miss 
 Crawford's habits made her likely to feel. She 
 acknowledged, however, that the Mr. Bertrams 
 were very fine young men, that two such young 
 men were not often seen together even in London, 
 and that their manners, particularly those of the 
 eldest, were very good. He had been much in 
 London, and had more liveliness and gallantry 
 
MANSEIELD PARK. 
 
 63 
 
 than Edmund, and must therefore be preferred; 
 and, indeed, his being the eldest was another 
 strong claim. She had felt an early presentiment 
 that she should like the eldest best. She knew it 
 was her way. 
 
 Tom Bertram must have been thought pleasant, 
 indeed, at any rate ; he was the sort of young man 
 to be generally liked, his agreeableness was of the 
 kind to be often er found agreeable than some en- 
 dowments of a Iiigher stamp, for he had easy man- 
 ners, excellent spirits, a large acquaintance, and 
 a great deal to say; and the reversion of Mansfield 
 Park, and a baronetcy, did no harm to all this. 
 Miss Crawford soon felt that he and his situation 
 might do. She looked about her with due consid- 
 eration, and found almost everything in his favor, 
 — a park, a real park live miles round; a spacious 
 modern-built house, so well placed and well 
 screened as to deserve to be in any collection of 
 engravings of gentlemen's seats in the kingdom, 
 and wanting only to be completely new furnished; 
 pleasant sisters, a quiet mother, and an agree- 
 able man himself, — with the advantage of being 
 tied up from much gaming at present, by a promise 
 to his father, and of being Sir Thomas hereafter. 
 It might do very well: she believed she should 
 accept him; and she began accordingly to interest 
 herself a little about the horse which he had to 
 run at the B races. 
 
 These races were to call him away not long after 
 their acquaintance began; and as it appeared that 
 the family did not, from his usual goings on, ex- 
 pect him back again for many weeks; it would 
 
64 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 bring liis passion to an early proof. Much was 
 said on his side to induce her to attend the races, 
 and schemes were made for a large party to them, 
 with all the eagerness of inclination; but it would 
 only do to be talked of. 
 
 And Fanny, — what was she doing and thinking 
 all this while, and what was her opinion of the 
 new-comers? Few young ladies of eighteen could 
 be less called on to speak their opinion than 
 Fanny. In a quiet way, very little attended to, 
 she paid her tribute of admiration to Miss Craw- 
 ford's beauty; but as she still continued to think 
 Mr. Crawford very plain, in spite of her two 
 cousins having repeatedly proved the contrary, 
 she never mentioned him. The notice which she 
 excited herself was to this effect. ^^I begin now 
 to understand you all, except Miss Price, said 
 Miss Crawford, as she was walking with the Mr. 
 Bertrams. ^^Pray, is she out, or is she not? I 
 am puzzled. She dined at the Parsonage with the 
 rest of you, which seemed like being out; and 
 yet she says so little that I can hardl}^ suppose 
 she is.'' 
 
 Edmund, to whom this was chiefly addressed, 
 replied: ^^I believe I know what you mean, but 
 I will not undertake to answer the question. My 
 cousin is grown up. She has the age and sense of 
 a woman, but the outs and not outs are beyond 
 me.'^ 
 
 ^^And yet, in general, nothing can be more 
 easily ascertained. The distinction is so broad. 
 Manners as well as appearance are, generally 
 speaking, so totallj^ different. Till now, I could 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 65 
 
 not have supposed it possible to be mistaken as to 
 a girl's being out or not. A girl not out has 
 always the same sort of dress, — a close bonnet, for 
 instance, — looks very demure, and never says a 
 word. You may smile, but it is so, I assure you; 
 and except that it is sometimes carried a little too 
 far, it is all very proper. Girls should be quiet 
 and modest. The most objectionable part is that 
 the alteration of manners on being introduced into 
 company is frequently too sudden. They some- 
 times pass in such very little time from reserve to 
 quite the opposite, — to confidence ! That is the 
 faulty part of the present system. One does not 
 like to see a girl of eighteen or nineteen so imme- 
 diately up to everything, — and perhaps when one 
 has seen her hardly able to speak the year before. 
 Mr. Bertram, I dare say you have sometimes met 
 with such changes.'' 
 
 ^^I believe I have: but this is hardly fair; I see 
 what you are at. You are quizzing me and Miss 
 Anderson." 
 
 "^0, indeed! Miss Anderson! I do not know 
 who or what you mean. I am quite in the dark. 
 But I will quiz you with a great deal of pleasure, 
 if you will tell me what about.'' 
 
 ' ' Ah ! you carry it off very well, but I cannot 
 be quite so far imposed on. You must have had 
 Miss Anderson in your eye, in describing an al- 
 tered young lady. You paint too accurately for 
 mistake. It was exactly so. The Andersons of 
 Baker Street. We were speaking of them the 
 other day, you know. Edmund, you have heard 
 me mention Charles Anderson. The circumstance 
 
 VOL. I. — 5 
 
66 
 
 MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 was precisely as this lady has represented it. 
 When Anderson first introduced me to his family, 
 ahout two years ago, his sister was not out, and I 
 could not get her to speak to me. I sat there an 
 hour one morning waiting for Anderson, with only 
 her and a little girl or two in the room, the gover- 
 ness being sick or run away, and the mother in 
 and out every moment with letters of business; 
 and I could hardly get a word or a look from 
 the young lady, — nothing like a civil answer, — 
 she screwed up her mouth, and turned from me 
 with such an air! I did not see her again for a 
 twelvemonth. She was then out. I met her at 
 Mrs. Holford's, and did not recollect her. She 
 came up to me, claimed me as an acquaintance, 
 stared me out of countenance, and talked and 
 laughed till I did not know which way to look. I 
 felt that I must be the jest of the room at the 
 time; and Miss Crawford, it is plain, has heard 
 the story. 
 
 And a very pretty story it is, and with more 
 truth in it, I dare say, than does credit to Miss 
 Anderson. It is too common a fault. Mothers 
 certainly have not yet got quite the right way of 
 managing their daughters. I do not know where 
 the error lies. I do not pretend to set people 
 right, but I do see that they are often wrong.'' 
 
 Those who are showing the world what female 
 manners should be,'' said Mr. Bertram, gallantly, 
 ^^are doing a great deal to set them right." 
 
 ^^The error is plain enough," said the less 
 courteous Edmund; ^^such girls are ill brought 
 up. They are given wrong notions from the be- 
 
MANSEIELD PARK. 
 
 67 
 
 ginning. They are always acting npon motives 
 of vanity, and there is no more real modesty in 
 their behavior before they appear in public than 
 afterwards.'' 
 
 ^^I do not know/' replied Miss Crawford, hesi- 
 tatingly. ^^Yes, I cannot agree with you there. 
 It is certainly the modestest part of the business. 
 It is much worse to have girls not out give them- 
 selves the same airs and take the same liberties as 
 if they were, which I have seen done. That is 
 worse than anything, — quite disgusting!'' 
 
 ^^Yes, that is very inconvenient indeed," said 
 Mr. Bertram. ^^It leads one astray; one does 
 not know what to do. The close bonnet and de- 
 mure air you describe so well (and nothing was 
 ever juster) tell one what is expected; but I got 
 into a dreadful scrape last year from the want of 
 them. I went down to Rams gate for a week with 
 a friend last September, just after my return from 
 the West Indies. My friend Sneyd, — you have 
 heard me speak of Sneyd, Edmund, — his father 
 and mother and sisters were there, all new to me. 
 When we reached Albion Place they were out : we 
 went after them, and found them on the pier, — 
 Mrs. and the two Miss Sneyds, with others of their 
 acquaintance. I made my bow in form; and as 
 Mrs. Sneyd was surrounded by men, attached my- 
 self to one of her daughters, walked by her side all 
 the way home, and made myself as agreeable as I 
 could, — the young lady perfectly easy in her 
 manners, and as ready to talk as to listen. I had 
 not a suspicion that I could be doing anything 
 wrong. They looked just the same, — both well 
 
68 
 
 MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 dressed, with veils and parasols like other girls; 
 but I afterwards found that I had been giving all 
 my attention to the youngest, who was not out, 
 and had most excessively offended the eldest. 
 Miss Augusta ought not to have been noticed for 
 the next six months; and Miss Sneyd, I believe, 
 has never forgiven me.'^ 
 
 ^^That was bad indeed. Poor Miss Sneyd! 
 Though I have no younger sister, I feel for her. 
 To be neglected before one's time must be very 
 vexatious; but it was entirely the mother's fault. 
 Miss Augusta should have been with her gover- 
 ness. Such half and half doings never prosper. 
 But now I must be satisfied about Miss Price. 
 Does she go to balls? Does she dine out every- 
 where, as well as at my sister's?'' 
 
 ^^No," replied Edmund, ^^I do not think she 
 has ever been to a ball. My mother seldom goes 
 into company herself, and dines nowhere but with 
 Mrs. Grant; and Fanny stays at home with her." 
 
 ^^Oh, then the point is clear. Miss Price is 
 not out.'^ 
 
CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 Mil. Bertram set off for , and Miss Crawford 
 
 was prepared to find a great chasm in their society, 
 and to miss him decidedly in the meetings which 
 were now becoming almost daily between the fami- 
 lies ; and on their all dining together at the Park 
 soon after his going, she retook her chosen place 
 near the bottom of the table, fully expecting to 
 feel a most melancholy difference in the change of 
 masters. It would be a very flat business, she 
 was sure. In comparison with his brother, Ed- 
 mund would have nothing to say. The soup 
 would be sent round in a most spiritless manner, 
 wine drank without any smiles or agreeable tri- 
 fling, and the venison cut up without supplying 
 one pleasant anecdote of any former haunch, or a 
 single entertaining story about ^^my friend such a 
 one.'^ She must try to find amusement in what 
 was passing at the upper end of the table, and in 
 observing Mr. Rushworth, who was now making 
 his appearance at Mansfield for the first time since 
 the Crawfords' arrival. He had been visiting a 
 friend in a neighboring county, and that friend 
 having recently had his grounds laid out by an 
 improver, Mr. Rushworth was returned with his 
 head full of the subject, and very eager to be im- 
 proving his own place in the same way; and 
 
70 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 though not saying much to the purpose, could talk 
 of nothing else. The subject had been already 
 handled in the drawing-room; it was revived in 
 the dining-parlor. Miss Bertram's attention and 
 opinion was evidently his chief aim; and though 
 her deportment showed rather conscious superior- 
 ity than any solicitude to oblige him, the mention 
 of Sotherton Court, and the ideas attached to it, 
 gave her a feeling of complacency, which prevented 
 her from being very ungracious. 
 
 ^^I wish you could see Compton," said he; it 
 is the most complete thing! I never saw a place 
 so altered in my life. I told Smith I did not 
 know where I was. The approach now is one of 
 the finest things in the country; you see the house 
 in the most surprising manner. I declare, when I 
 got back to Sotherton yesterday, it looked like a 
 prison, — quite a dismal old prison.'' 
 
 ^^Oh, for shame!" cried Mrs. Norris. A 
 prison, indeed! Sotherton Court is the noblest 
 old place in the world." 
 
 ^^It wants improvement, ma'am, beyond any- 
 thing. I never saw a place that wanted so much 
 improvement in my life; and it is so forlorn that 
 I do not know what can be done with it." 
 
 ' ' No wonder that Mr. Eushworth should think 
 so at present," said Mrs. Grant to Mrs. Norris, 
 with a smile; '^but depend upon it, Sotherton 
 will have every improvement in time which his 
 heart can desire." 
 
 " I must try to do something with it," said Mr. 
 Kush worth, ^^but I do not know what. I hope I 
 shall have some good friend to help me." 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 71 
 
 *^Your best friend upon such an occasion/' said 
 Miss Bertram, calmly, ^Svould be Mr. Eepton, I 
 imagine.'' 
 
 ^^Tliat is what I was thinking of. As he has 
 done so well by Smith, I think I had better have 
 him at once. His terms are five guineas a day.'' 
 
 Well, and if they were ten," cried Mrs. ISTorris, 
 ^^I am sure you need not regard it. The expense 
 need not be any impediment. If I were you, I 
 should not think of the expense; I would have 
 everything done in the best style, and made as 
 nice as possible. Such a place as Sotherton Court 
 deserves everything that taste and money can do. 
 You have space to work upon there, and grounds 
 that will well reward you. For my own part, if 
 I had an^^thing within the fiftieth part of the size 
 of Sotherton, I should be always planting and im- 
 proving, for naturally I am excessively fond of it. 
 It w^ould be too ridiculous for me to attempt any- 
 thing where I am now, with my little half acre. 
 It would be quite a burlesque. But if I had more 
 room, I should take a prodigious delight in im- 
 proving and planting. We did a vast deal in that 
 way at the Parsonage : we made it quite a different 
 place from w^hat it was w^hen we first had it. You 
 young ones do not remember much about it, per- 
 haps : but if dear Sir Thomas were here, he could 
 tell you w^hat improvements we made ] and a great 
 deal more would have been done, but for poor Mr. 
 Norris's sad state of health. He could hardly ever 
 get out, poor man, to enjoy anything, and that dis- 
 heartened me from doing several things that Sir 
 Thomas and I used to talk of. If it had not been 
 
72 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 for that, we should have carried on the garden 
 wall, and made the plantation to shut out the 
 churchyard, just as Dr. Grant has done. We were 
 always doing something, as it was. It was only 
 the spring twelvemonth before Mr. Norris's death, 
 that we put in the apricot against the stable wall, 
 which is now grown such a noble tree, and getting 
 to such perfection, sir,'^ addressing herself then to 
 Dr. Grant. 
 
 The tree thrives well beyond a doubt, madam,'' 
 replied Dr. Grant. " The soil is good; and I never 
 pass it without regretting that the fruit should be 
 so little worth the trouble of gathering.'' * 
 
 " Sir, it is a moor park, we bought it as a moor 
 park, and it cost us — that is, it was a present 
 from Sir Thomas ; but I saw the bill, and I know 
 it cost seven shillings, and was charged as a moor 
 park. " 
 
 ^^You were imposed on, ma'am," replied Dr. 
 Grant; ^Hhese potatoes have as much the flavor of 
 a moor-park apricot as the fruit from that tree. It 
 is an insipid fruit at the best; but a good apricot 
 is eatable, which none from my garden are.'^ 
 
 ^^The truth is, ma'am," said Mrs. Grant, pre- 
 tending to whisper across the table to Mrs. Norris, 
 ^^that Dr. Grant hardly knows what the natural 
 taste of our apricot is; he is scarcely ever indulged 
 with one, for it is so valuable a fruit with a little 
 assistance, and ours is such a remarkably large, 
 fair sort, that what with early tarts and preserves 
 my cook contrives to get them all." 
 
 Mrs. Norris, who had begun to redden, was ap- 
 peased; and for a little while other subjects took 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 73 
 
 place of the improvements of Sotliertoii. Dr. Grant 
 and Mrs. Il^orris were seldom good friends; their 
 acquaintance had begun in dilapidations^ and their 
 habits were totally dissimilar. 
 
 After a short interruption Mr. Rushworth began 
 again. " Smith's 2)lace is the admiration of all the 
 country; and it was a mere nothing before Eejjton 
 took it in hand. T think I shall have Eepton.'' 
 
 ^^Mr. Rushworth/' said Lady Bertram, if I 
 were you, I would have a very pretty shrubbery. 
 One likes to get out into a shrubbery in tine 
 weather. " 
 
 Mr. Rushworth was eager to assure her Ladyship 
 of his acquiescence, and tried to make out some- 
 thing complimentary; but between his submission 
 to her taste, and his having always intended the 
 same himself, with the superadded objects of pro- 
 fessing attention to the comfort of ladies in gen- 
 eral, and of insinuating that there was one only 
 whom he was anxious to please, he grew puzzled; 
 and Edmund was glad to put an end to his speech 
 by a proposal of wine. Mr. Rushworth, however, 
 though not usually a great talker, had still more 
 to say on the subject next his heart. Smith has 
 not much above a hundred acres altogether in his 
 grounds, which is little enough, and makes it more 
 surprising that the place can have been so improved. 
 Now, at Sotherton, we have a good seven hundred, 
 without reckoning the water meadows; so that I 
 think, if so much could be done at Compton, we need 
 not despair. There have been two or three fine old 
 trees cut down that grew too near the house, and 
 it opens the prospect amazingly, which makes me 
 
74 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 think that Kepton, or anybody of that sort, would 
 certainly have the avenue at Sotherton down, — the 
 avenue that leads from the west front to the top of 
 the hill, you know/' turning to Miss Bertram par- 
 ticularly, as he spoke. But Miss Bertram thought 
 it most becoming to reply, — 
 
 ^^The avenue! Oh, I do not recollect it. I 
 veally know very little of Sotherton. 
 
 Fanny, who was sitting on the other side of Ed- 
 mund, exactly opposite Miss Crawford, and who 
 had been attentively listening, now looked at him, 
 and said in a low voice, — 
 
 " Out down an avenue ! What a pity ! Does not 
 it make you think of Cowper? ' Ye fallen avenues, 
 once more I mourn your fate unmerited.' '' 
 
 He smiled as he answered, ^^lam afraid the 
 avenue stands a bad chance, Fanny." 
 
 "1 should like to see Sotherton before it is cut 
 down, to see the place as it is now, in its old state; 
 but I do not suppose I shall.'' 
 
 ^^Have you never been there? No, you never 
 can; and unluckily it is out of distance for a ride. 
 I wish we could contrive it." 
 
 ^^Oh, it does not signify. Whenever I do see 
 it, you will tell me how it has been altered." 
 
 ^^I collect," said Miss Crawford, ^^that Sother- 
 ton is an old place, and a place of some grandeur. 
 In any particular style of building? " 
 
 ^^The house was built in Elizabeth's time, and 
 is a large, regular brick building, — heavy, but re- 
 spectable-looking, and has many good rooms. It 
 is ill-placed. It stands in one of the lowest spots 
 of the park; in that respect, unfavorable for im- 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 75 
 
 provement. But the woods are fine, and there is 
 a stream, whicli, I dare say, might be made a good 
 deal of. Mr. Rushworth is quite right, I think, in 
 meaning to give it a modern dress, and I have no 
 doubt that it will be all done extremely well." 
 
 Miss Crawford listened with submission, and 
 said to herself, " He is a well-bred man 5 he makes 
 the best of it." 
 
 I do not wish to influence Mr. Eushworth," 
 he continued; ^^but had I a place to new-fashion, 
 I should not put myself into the hands of an im- 
 prover. I would rather have an inferior degree of 
 beauty, of my own choice, and acquired progres- 
 sively. I would rather abide by my own blunders 
 than by his." 
 
 ^^You would know what you were about, of 
 course, — but that would not suit me. I have no 
 eye or ingenuity for such matters, but as they are 
 before me; and had I a place of my own in the 
 country, I should be most thankful to any Mr. 
 Eepton who would undertake it, and give me as 
 much beauty as he could for my money; and I 
 should never look at it till it was complete." 
 
 ^^It would be delightful to me to see the prog- 
 ress of it all," said Fanny. 
 
 Ay, you have been brought up to it. It was 
 no part of my education; and the only dose I ever 
 had being administered by not the first favorite in 
 the world, has made me consider improvements in 
 hand as the greatest of nuisances. Three years 
 ago the Admiral, my honored uncle, bought a cot- 
 tage at Twickenham for us all to spend our sum- 
 mers in; and my aunt and I went down to it quite 
 
76 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 in raptures : but it being excessively pretty, it was 
 soon found necessary to be improved; and for three 
 months we were all dirt and confusion, without a 
 gravel walk to step on, or a bench fit for use. I 
 would have everything as complete as possible in 
 the country, shrubberies and flower-gardens, and 
 rustic seats innumerable : but it must be all done 
 without my care. Henry is different; he loves to 
 be doing. 
 
 Edmund was sorry to hear Miss Crawford, whom 
 he was much disposed to admire, speak so freely 
 of her uncle. It did not suit his sense of pro- 
 priety, and he was silenced, till induced, by further 
 smiles and liveliness, to put the matter by for the 
 present. 
 
 ^^Mr. Bertram," said she, ^^I have tidings of 
 my harp at last. I am assured that it is safe at 
 Northampton ; and there it has probably been these 
 ten days, in spite of the solemn assurances we have 
 so often received to the contrary." Edmund ex- 
 pressed his pleasure and surprise. The truth is, 
 that our inquiries were too direct, — we sent a ser- 
 vant, we went ourselves; this will not do seventy 
 miles from London, — but this morning we heard 
 of it in the right way. It was seen by some farmer, 
 and he told the miller, and the miller told the 
 butcher, and the butcher's son-in-law left word 
 at the shop." 
 
 ^ ' I am very glad that you have heard of it, by 
 whatever means, and hope there will be no further 
 delay." 
 
 ^^I am to have it to-morrow; but how do you 
 think it is to be conveyed? Not by a wagon or 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 77 
 
 cart, — oh, no, nothing of that kind could be hired 
 in the village. I might as well have asked for 
 porters and a hand-barrow.'^ 
 
 ^ ^ You would find it difficult, I dare say, just 
 nov/, in the middle of a very late hay harvest, to 
 hire a horse and cart? 
 
 ^'1 was astonished to find what a piece of work 
 was made of it! To want a horse and cart in the 
 country seemed impossible, so I told my maid to 
 speak for one directly ; and as I cannot look out of 
 my dressing-closet without seeing one farmyard, 
 nor walk in the shrubbery without passing another, 
 I thought it would be only ask and have, and was 
 rather grieved that I could not give the advantage 
 to all. Guess my surprise, when I found that I 
 had been asking the most unreasonable, most im- 
 possible thing in the world; had offended all the 
 farmers, all the laborers, all the hay in the parish. 
 As for Dr. Grant's bailiff, I believe I had bet- 
 ter keep out of his way; and my brother-in-law 
 himself, who is all kindness in general, looked 
 rather black upon me, when he found what I had 
 been at." 
 
 You could not be expected to have thought on 
 the subject before; but when you do think of it, 
 you must see the importance of getting in the 
 grass. The hire of a cart at any time might not 
 be so easy as you suppose, — our farmers are not in 
 the habit of letting them out; but in harvest 
 it must be quite out of their power to spare a 
 horse." 
 
 ^^I shall understand all your ways in time; but 
 coming down with the true London maxim, that 
 
78 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK 
 
 everything is to be got with money, I was a little 
 embarrassed at first by the sturd}^ independence of 
 your country customs. However, I am to have my 
 harp fetched to-morrow. Henry, who is good- 
 nature itself, has offered to fetch it in his barouche. 
 Will it not be honorably conveyed? 
 
 Edmund spoke of the harp as his favorite instru- 
 ment, and hoped to be soon allowed to hear her. 
 Tanny had never heard the harp at all, and wished 
 for it very much. 
 
 ^^I shall be most happy to play to you both,'^ 
 said Miss Crawford, — at least, as long as jou can 
 like to listen; probably much longer, for I dearly 
 love music myself, and where the natural taste is 
 equal, the player must always be best off, for she 
 is gratified in more ways than one. Now, Mr. 
 Bertram, if you write to your brother, I entreat you 
 to tell him that my harp is come; he heard so 
 much of my misery without it. And you may 
 say, if you please, that I shall prepare my most 
 plaintive airs against his return in compassion to 
 his feelings, as 1 know his horse will lose.^' 
 
 ^'If I write, I will say whatever you wish me; 
 but I do not at present foresee any occasion for 
 writing.'^ 
 
 ^^No, I dare say; nor if he were to be gone a 
 twelvemonth, would you ever write to him nor he 
 to you, if it could be helped. The occasion would 
 never be foreseen. What strange creatures brothers 
 are ! You would not write to each other but upon 
 the most urgent necessity in the world; and when 
 obliged to take up the pen to say that such a horse 
 is ill, or such a relation dead, it is done in the 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 79 
 
 fewest possible words. You have but one style 
 among you. I know it perfectly. Henry, who is 
 in every other respect exactly what a brother 
 should be, who loves me, consults me, confides in 
 me, and will talk to me by the hour together, has 
 never yet turned the page in a letter; and very 
 often it is nothing more than — 
 
 Dear Mary, — I am just arrived. Bath seems full, 
 and everything as usual. 
 
 Yours sincerely. 
 
 That is the true manly style, — - that is a complete 
 brother's letter." 
 
 ^^When they are at a distance from all their 
 family," said Fanny, coloring for William's sake, 
 ^^they can write long letters." 
 
 Miss Price has a brother at sea," said Edmund, 
 whose excellence as a correspondent makes her 
 think you too severe upon us." 
 
 *^At sea, has she? — In the king's service, of 
 course." 
 
 Fanny w^ould rather have had Edmund tell the 
 story; but his determined silence obliged her to 
 relate her brother's situation: her voice was ani- 
 mated in speaking of his profession, and the foreign 
 stations he had been on; but she could not mention 
 the number of years that he had been absent with- 
 out tears in her eyes. Miss Crawford civilly 
 wished him an early promotion. 
 
 Do you know anything of my cousin's captain ? " 
 said Edmund, — Captain Marshall? You have a 
 large acquaintance in the navy, I conclude? '' 
 
 Among admirals, large enough; but," with 
 
80 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 an air of grandeur, ^^we know very little of the 
 inferior ranks. Post-captains may be very good 
 sort of men, but they do not belong to us. Of 
 various admirals I could tell you a great deal, — of 
 them and their flags, and the gradation of their 
 pay, and their bickerings and jealousies. But in 
 general, I can assure you that they are all passed 
 over, and all very ill used. Certainly my home 
 at my uncle's brought me acquainted with a circle 
 of admirals. Of Rears and Vices, I saw enough. 
 !N"ow, do not be suspecting me of a pun, I entreat." 
 
 Edmund again felt grave and only replied, ^^It 
 is a noble profession." 
 
 Yes, the profession is well enough under two 
 circumstances, — if it make the fortune, and there 
 be discretion in spending it; but in short, it is not 
 a favorite profession of mine. It has never worn 
 an amiable form to me." 
 
 Edmund reverted to the harp, and was again 
 very happy in the prospect of hearing her play. 
 
 The subject of improving grounds, meanwhile, 
 was still under consideration among the others; 
 and Mrs. Grant could not help addressing her 
 brother, though it was calling his attention from 
 Miss Julia Bertram. 
 
 ^^My dear Henry, have you nothing to say? 
 You have been an improver yourself; and from 
 what I hear of Everingham, it may vie with any 
 place in England. Its natural beauties I am sure 
 are great. Everingham as it used to be was per- 
 fect in my estimation ; such a happy fall of ground, 
 and such timber! What would not I give to see 
 it again! " 
 
MANSEIELD PARK. 
 
 81 
 
 '^Nothing could be so gratifying to me as to 
 hear your opinion of it/' was his answer; ^^but I 
 fear there would be some disappointment, — you 
 would not find it equal to your present ideas. In 
 extent it is a mere nothing, — you would be sur- 
 prised at its insignificance; and as for improve- 
 ment, there was very little for me to do, — too 
 little, — I should like to have been busy much 
 longer.'^ 
 
 ^^You are fond of the sort of thing?'' said 
 Julia. 
 
 ^^Excessively; but what with the natural ad- 
 vantages of the ground, which pointed out, even to 
 a very young eye, what little remained to be done, 
 and my own consequent resolutions, I had not 
 been of age three months before Everingham was 
 all that it is now. My plan was laid at West- 
 minster, a little altered, perhaps, at Cambridge, 
 and at one-and-twenty executed. I am inclined to 
 envy Mr. Rushworth for having so much happi- 
 ness yet before him. I have been a devourer of 
 my own." 
 
 ' ' Those who see quickly will resolve quickly and 
 act quickly," said Julia. You can never want 
 employment. Instead of envying Mr. Rushworth, 
 you should assist him with your opinion." 
 
 Mrs. Grant, hearing the latter part of this 
 speech, enforced it warmly, persuaded that no 
 judgment could be equal to her brother's; and 
 as Miss Bertram caught at the idea likewise, 
 and gave it her full support, declaring that, in 
 her opinion, it was infinitely better to consult 
 
 VOL. I. — 6 
 
82 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 with friends and disinterested advisers than im« 
 mediately to throw the business into the hands 
 of a professional man, Mr. Rush worth was very 
 ready to request the favor of Mr. Crawford's assist- 
 ance ; and Mr. Crawford, after properly depreciat- 
 ing his own abilities, was quite at his service in 
 any way that could be useful. Mr. Rushworth then 
 began to propose Mr. Crawford's doing him the 
 honor of coming over to Sotherton, and taking 
 a bed there; when Mrs. Norris, as if reading in 
 her two nieces' minds their little approbation of 
 a plan which was to take Mr. Crawford away, 
 interposed with an amendment. 
 
 There can be no doubt of Mr. Crawford^s 
 willingness; but why should not more of us go? 
 Why should not we make a little party? Here 
 are many that would be interested in your im- 
 provements, my dear Mr. Eushworth, and that 
 would like to hear Mr. Crawford's opinion on 
 the spot, and that might be of some small use to 
 you with their opinions; and for my own part 
 I have been long wishing to wait upon your good 
 mother again. Nothing but having no horses of 
 my own could have made me so remiss; but now 
 I could go and sit a few hours with Mrs. Eush- 
 worth while the rest of you walked about and 
 settled things, and then we could all return to 
 a late dinner here, or dine at Sotherton, just as 
 might be most agreeable to your mother, and 
 have a pleasant drive home by moonlight. I 
 dare say Mr. Crawford would take my two nieces 
 and me in his barouche, and Edmund can go 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 83 
 
 on horseback, you know, sister, and Fanny will 
 stay at home with you.'' 
 
 Lady Bertram made no objection; and every 
 one concerned in the going was forward in ex- 
 pressing their ready concurrence, excepting Ed- 
 mund, who heard it all and said nothing. 
 
CHAPTEE YTI. 
 
 ^^Well, Fanny, and how do you like Miss 
 Crawford now?^^ said Edmund the next day, af- 
 ter thinking some time on the subject himself. 
 ^^How did you like her yesterday? 
 
 <^Very well, — very much. I like to hear her 
 talk. She entertains me; and she is so extremely 
 pretty that I have great pleasure in looking at 
 her.^^ 
 
 ^^It is her countenance that is so attractive. 
 She has a wonderful play of feature! But was 
 there nothing in her conversation that struck 
 you, Eanny, as not quite right 
 
 ^^Oh, yes, she ought not to have spoken of her 
 uncle as she did. I was quite astonished. An 
 uncle with whom she has been living so many 
 years, and who, whatever his faults may be, is so 
 very fond of her brother, treating him, they say, 
 quite like a son. I could not have believed it! ^' 
 
 ^^I thought you would be struck. It was very 
 wrong, — very indecorous. 
 
 ^^And very ungrateful, I think. 
 Ungrateful is a strong word. I do not know 
 that her uncle has any claim to her gratitude. 
 His wife certainly had; and it is the warmth of 
 her respect for her aunt's memory which misleads 
 her here. She is awkwardly circumstanced. With 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 85 
 
 such warm feelings and lively spirits it must be 
 difficult to do justice to her affection for Mrs. 
 Crawford, without throwing a shade on the Ad- 
 miral. I do not pretend to know which was most 
 to blame in their disagreements, though the Ad- 
 miral's present conduct might incline one to the 
 side of his wife; but it is natural and amiable 
 that Miss Crawford should acquit her aunt en- 
 tirely. I do not censure her opinions; but there 
 certainly is impropriety in making them public. 
 
 ^^Do not you think,'' said Eanny, after a little 
 consideration, ^Hhat this impropriety is a reflec- 
 tion itself upon Mrs. Crawford, as her niece has 
 been entirely brought up by her? She cannot 
 have given her right notions of what was due to 
 the Admiral." 
 
 " That is a fair remark. Yes, we must suppose 
 the faults of the niece to have been those of the 
 aunt; and it makes one more sensible of the disad- 
 vantages she has been under. But I think her 
 present home must do her good. Mrs. Grant's man- 
 ners are just what they ought to be. She speaks 
 of her brother with a very pleasing affection." 
 
 Yes, except as to his writing her such short 
 letters. She made me almost laugh; but I cannot 
 rate so very highly the love or good-nature of a 
 brother who will not give himself the trouble of 
 writing anything worth reading to his sisters, 
 when they are separated. I am sure William 
 would never have used me so, under any circum- 
 stances. And what right had she to suppose that 
 you would not write long letters when you were 
 absent? " 
 
86 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 The right of a lively mind, Eanny, seizing 
 whatever may contribute to its own amusement or 
 that of others; perfectly allowable, when untinc- 
 tured by ill humor or roughness; and there is not 
 a shadow of either in the countenance or manner of 
 Miss Crawford, — nothing sharp or loud or coarse. 
 She is perfectly feminine, except in the instances 
 we have been speaking of. There she cannot be 
 justified. I am glad you saw it all as I did.'' 
 
 Having formed her mind and gained her affec- 
 tions, he had a good chance of her thinking like 
 him; though at this period and on this subject 
 there began now to be some danger of dissimi- 
 larity, for he was in a line of admiration of Miss 
 Crawford which might lead him where Fanny 
 could not follow. Miss Crawford's attractions did 
 not lessen. The harp arrived, and rather added to 
 her beauty, wit, and good-humor; for she played 
 with the greatest obligingness, with an expression 
 and taste which were peculiarly becoming, and 
 there was something clever to He said at the close 
 of every air. Edmund was at the Parsonage every 
 day, to be indulged with his favorite instrument: 
 one morning secured an invitation for the next; 
 for the lady could not be unwilling to have a lis- 
 tener, and everything was soon in a fair train, 
 
 A young woman, pretty, lively, w^ith a harp as 
 elegant as herself; and both placed near a window 
 cut down to the ground, and opening on a little 
 lawn, surrounded by shrubs in the rich foliage of 
 summer, was enough to catch any man^s heart. 
 The season, the scene, the air, w^ere all favorable 
 to tenderness and sentiment. Mrs. Grant and her 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 87 
 
 tambour frame were not without their use : it was 
 all in harmony; and as everything will turn to ac- 
 count when love is once set going, even the sand- 
 wich tray, and Dr. Grant doing the honors of it 
 were worth looking at. Without studying the 
 business, however, or knowing what he was about, 
 Edmund was beginning, at the end of a week of 
 such intercourse, to be a good deal in love; and to 
 the credit of the lady it may be added, that with- 
 out his being a man of the world or an elder 
 brother, without any of the arts of flattery or the 
 gayeties of small talk, he began to be agreeable to 
 her. She felt it to be so, though she had not fore- 
 seen and could hardly understand it; for he was 
 not pleasant by any common rule, he talked no 
 nonsense, he paid no compliments, his opinions 
 were unbending, his attentions tranquil and sim- 
 ple. There was a charm, perhaps, in his sincerity, 
 his steadiness, his integrity, which Miss Crawford 
 might be equal to feel, though not equal to discuss 
 with herself. She did not think very much about 
 it, however: he pleased her for the present; she 
 liked to have him near her; it was enough. 
 
 Fanny could not wonder that Edmund was at. 
 the Parsonage every morning, — she would gladly 
 have been there too, might she have gone in unin- 
 vited and unnoticed to hear the harp; neither 
 could she wonder that when the evening stroll 
 was over, and the two families parted again, he 
 should think it right to attend Mrs. Grant and 
 her sister to their home, while Mr. Crawford v/as 
 devoted to the ladies of the Park : but she thought 
 it a very bad exchange ; and if Edmund were not 
 
88 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 there to mix the wine and water for her, would 
 rather go without it than not. She was a little 
 surprised that he could spend so many hours with 
 Miss Crawford, and not see more of the sort of 
 fault which he had already observed, and of which 
 she was almost always reminded by a something of 
 the same nature whenever she was in her company ; 
 but so it was. Edmund was fond of speaking to 
 her of Miss Crawford, but he seemed to think it 
 enough that the Admiral had since been spared; 
 and she scrupled to point out her own remarks to 
 him, lest it should appear like ill-nature. The 
 first actual pain which Miss Crawford occasioned 
 her was the consequence of an inclination to learn 
 to ride, which the former caught soon after her 
 being settled at Mansfield, from the example of 
 the young ladies at the Park, and which, when 
 Edmund's acquaintance with her increased, led to 
 his encouraging the wish, and the offer of his own 
 quiet mare for the purpose of her first attempts, as 
 the best fitted for a beginner that either stable 
 could furnish. No pain, no injury, however, was 
 designed by him to his cousin in this offer; she 
 was not to lose a day's exercise by it. The mare 
 was only to be taken down to the Parsonage half 
 an hour before her rides were to begin ; and Fanny, 
 on its being first proposed, so far from feeling 
 slighted, was almost overpowered with gratitude 
 that he should be asking her leave for it. 
 
 Miss Crawford made her first essay with great 
 credit to herself, and no inconvenience to Fanny. 
 Edmund, who had taken down the mare and pre- 
 sided at the whole, returned with it in excellent 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 89 
 
 time, before either Fanny or the steady old coach- 
 man, who always attended her when she rode with- 
 out her cousins, was ready to set forward. The 
 second day's trial was not so guiltless. Miss 
 Crawford's enjoyment of riding was such tliat she 
 did not know how to leave off. Active and fear- 
 less, and, though rather small, strongly made, slie 
 seemed formed for a horsewoman; and to the pure 
 genuine pleasure of the exercise,' something was 
 probably added in Edmund's attendance and in- 
 structions, and something more in the conviction 
 of very much surpassing her sex in general by her 
 early progress, to make her unwilling to dismount. 
 Fanny was ready and waiting, and Mrs. Norris 
 was beginning to scold her for not being gone, and 
 still no horse was announced, no Edmund ap- 
 peared. To avoid her aunt, and look for him, she 
 went out. 
 
 The houses, though scarcely half a mile apart, 
 were not within sight of each other; but by walk- 
 ing fifty yards from the hall door she could look 
 down the park, and command a view of the Par- 
 sonage and all its demesnes, gently rising beyond 
 the village road; and in Dr. Grant's meadow she 
 immediately saw the group, — Edmund and Miss 
 Crawford, both on horseback, riding side by side, 
 Dr. and Mrs. Grant and Mr. Cra,wford, with two 
 or three grooms, standing about and looking on. 
 A happy party it appeared to her, — all interested 
 in one object, — cheerful beyond a doubt, for the 
 sound of merriment ascended even to her. It was 
 a sound which did not make her cheerful; she 
 wondered that Edmund should forget her, and felt 
 
90 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 a pang. She could not turn her eyes from the 
 meadow, she could not help watching all that 
 passed. At first Miss Crawford and her compan- 
 ion made the circuit of the field, which was not 
 small, at a foot's pace ; then, at her apparent sug- 
 gestion, they rose into a canter; and to Fanny's 
 timid nature it was most astonishing to see how 
 well she sat. After a few mimites they stopped 
 entirely. Edmund was close to her, he was speak- 
 ing to her, he was evidently directing her manage- 
 ment of the bridle, he had hold of her hand; she 
 saw it, or the imagination supplied what the eye 
 could not reach. She must not wonder at all this ; 
 what could be more natural than that Edmund 
 should be making himself useful, and proving his 
 good-nature by any one ? She could not but think, 
 indeed, that Mr. Crawford might as well have 
 saved him the trouble; that it would have been 
 particularly proper and becoming in a brother to 
 have done it himself; but Mr. Crawford, with all 
 his boasted good-nature and all his coachmanship, 
 probably knew nothing of the matter, and had no 
 active kindness in comparison of Edmund. She 
 began to think it rather hard upon the mare to 
 have such double duty; if she were forgotten, the 
 poor mare should be remembered. 
 
 Her feelings for one and the other were soon a 
 little tranquillized, by seeing the party in the 
 meadow disperse, and Miss Crawford still on 
 horseback, but attended by Edmund on foot, pass 
 through a gate into the lane, and so into the park, 
 and make towards the spot where she stood. She 
 began then to be afraid of appearing rude and im- 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 91 
 
 patient, and walked to meet them with a great 
 anxiety to avoid the suspicion. 
 
 ^'My dear Miss Price/' said Miss Crawford, as 
 soon as she was at all within hearing, ' ' I am come 
 to make my own apologies for keeping you waiting, 
 — but I have nothing in the world to say for my- 
 self, — I knew it was very late, and that I was 
 behaving extremely ill! and therefore, if you 
 please, you must forgive me. Selfishness must 
 always be forgiven, you know, because there is no 
 hope of a cure.'' 
 
 Fann^^'s answer was extremely civil, and Ed- 
 mund added his conviction that she could be in no 
 hurry. " For there is more than time enough for 
 my cousin to ride twice as far as she ever goes," 
 said he, ^^and you have been promoting her com- 
 fort by preventing her from setting off half an 
 hour sooner: clouds are now coming up, and she 
 will not suffer from the heat as she would have 
 done then. I wish you may not be fatigued by so 
 much exercise. I wish you had saved yourself 
 this walk home." 
 
 "1^0 part of it fatigues me but getting off this 
 horse, I assure you," said she, as she sprang down 
 with his help; ^^I am very strong. Nothing ever 
 fatigues me but doing what I do not like. Miss 
 Price, I give way to you with a very bad grace; 
 but I sincerely hope you will have a pleasant ride, 
 and that I may have nothing but good to hear of 
 this dear, delightful, beautiful animal." 
 
 The old coachman, who had been waiting about 
 with his own horse, now joining them, Panny was 
 lifted on hers, and they set off across another part 
 
92 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 of the park; her feelings of discomfort not light- 
 ened by seeing, as she looked back, that the others 
 were walking down the hill together to the village ; 
 nor did her attendant do her much good b}^ his 
 comments on Miss Crawford's great cleverness as a 
 horsewoman, which he had been watching with an 
 interest almost equal to her own. 
 
 It is a pleasure to see a lady with such a good 
 heart for riding! " said he. ^^I never see one sit 
 a horse better. She did not seem to have a thought 
 of fear. Very different from you, miss, when you 
 first began, six years ago come next Easter. Lord 
 bless me ! how you did tremble when Sir Thomas 
 first had you put on! 
 
 In the drawing-room Miss Crawford was also 
 celebrated. Her merit in being gifted by nature 
 with strength and courage was fully appreciated by 
 the Miss Bertrams; her delight in riding was like 
 their own; her early excellence in it was like their 
 own, and they had great pleasure in praising it. 
 
 '^I was sure she would ride well,'' said Julia; 
 ^^she has the make for it. Her figure is as neat 
 as her brother's." 
 
 ^^Yes," added Maria; ^^and her spirits are as 
 good, and she has the same energy of character. I 
 cannot but think that good horsemanship has a 
 great deal to do with the mind." 
 
 When they parted at night, Edmund asked 
 Fanny whether she meant to ride the next day. 
 
 ' ' No, I do not know, not if you want the mare, ' ' 
 was her answer. ^^I do not want her at all for 
 myself," said he; " but whenever you are next in- 
 clined to stay at home, I think Miss Crawford 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 93 
 
 would be glad to have her for a longer time, — for 
 a whole morning, in short. She has a great desire 
 to get as far as Mansfield Common: Mrs. Grant 
 has been telling her of its fine views, and I have 
 no doubt of her being perfectly equal to it. But 
 any morning will do for this. She would be ex- 
 tremely sorry to interfere with you. It would be 
 very wrong if she did. She rides only for pleasure ; 
 you for health.'' 
 
 ^^I shall not ride to-morrow, certainly," said 
 Fanny ; ^ ^ I have been out very often lately, and 
 would rather stay at home. You know I am strong 
 enough now to walk very well.'' 
 
 Edmund looked pleased, which must be Fanny's 
 comfort, and the ride to Mansfield Common took 
 place the next morning: the party included all 
 the young people but herself, and was much en- 
 joyed at the time, and doubly enjoyed again in the 
 evening discussion. A successful scheme of this 
 sort generally brings on another; and the having 
 been to Mansfield Common disposed them all for 
 going somewhere else the day after. There were 
 many other views to be shown; and though the 
 weather was hot, there were shady lanes wherever 
 they wanted to go. A young party is always pro- 
 vided with a shady lane. Four fine mornings suc- 
 cessively were spent in this manner in showing the 
 Crawfords the country, and doing the honors of its 
 finest spots. Everything answered: it was all 
 gayety and good-humor, the heat only supplying 
 inconvenience enough to be talked of with pleasure, 
 till the fourth day, when the happiness of one 
 of the party was exceedingly clouded. Miss Ber* 
 
94 
 
 MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 tram was the one. Edmund and Julia were invited 
 to dine at the Parsonage, and she was excluded. 
 It was meant and done by Mrs. Grant, with per- 
 fect good-humor, on Mr. Rush worth's account, 
 who was partly expected at the Park that day ; but 
 it was felt as a very grievous injury, and her good 
 manners were severely taxed to conceal her vexa- 
 tion and anger till she reached home. As Mr. 
 Eushworth did not come, the injury v/as increased, 
 and she had not even the relief of showing her 
 power over him; she could only be sullen to her 
 mother, aunt, and cousin, and throw as. great a 
 gloom as possible over their dinner and dessert. 
 
 Between ten and eleven Edmund and Julia 
 walked into the drawing-room, fresh with the even- 
 ing air, glowing and cheerful, the very reverse of 
 what they found in the three ladies sitting there, 
 for Maria would scarcely raise her eyes from her 
 book, and Lady Bertram was half asleep; and even 
 Mrs. Norris, discomposed by her niece's ill-humor, 
 and having asked one or two questions about the 
 dinner, which were not immediately attended to, 
 seemed almost determined to say no more. For a 
 few minutes the brother and sister were too eager 
 in their praise of the night and their remarks on 
 the stars, to think beyond themselves; but when 
 the first pause came, Edmund, looking around, 
 said, ^^But where is Eanny? Is she gone to 
 bed?'' 
 
 ^^No, not that I know of," replied Mrs. Norris; 
 ^^she was here a moment ago." 
 
 Her own gentle voice speaking from the other 
 end of the room, which was a very long one, told 
 
MANSEIELD PARK. 
 
 95 
 
 them that she was on the sofa. Mrs. N"orris began 
 scolding. 
 
 ^^That is a very foolish trick, Fanny^ to be 
 idling away all the evening upon a sofa. Why 
 cannot you come and sit here, and employ yourself 
 as we do? If you have no work of your own, I can 
 supply you from the poor basket. There is all the 
 new calico that was bought last week, not touched 
 yet. I am sure I almost broke my back by cutting 
 it out. You should learn to think of other people ; 
 and take my word for it, it is a shocking trick 
 for a young person to be always lolling upon a 
 sofa.'' 
 
 Before half this was said, Fanny was returned 
 to her seat at the table, and had taken up her work 
 again; and Julia, who was in high good-humxor, 
 from the pleasures of the day, did her the justice of 
 exclaiming, ^^I must say, ma'am, that Fanny is as 
 little upon the sofa as anybody in the house." 
 
 Fanny, " said Edmund,' after looking at her 
 attentively, " I am sure you have the headache! " 
 
 She could not deny it, but said it was not very 
 bad. 
 
 ^^I can hardly believe you," he replied; ^^I 
 know your looks too well. How long have you 
 had it? " 
 
 Since a little before dinner. It is nothing 
 but the heat." 
 
 " Did you go out in the heat? " 
 
 Go out! to be sure she did," said Mrs. Norris; 
 would you have her stay within such a fine day 
 as this? Were not we all out? Even your mother 
 was out to-day for above an hour," 
 
96 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 ^^Yes, indeed, Edmund/' added her Ladyship, 
 who had been thoroughly awakened by Mrs. Nor- 
 ris's sharp reprimand to Fanny; ^^I was out above 
 an hour. I sat three quarters of an hour in the 
 flower-garden, while Fanny cut the roses ; and very 
 pleasant it was, I assure you, but very hot. It was 
 shady enough in the alcove, but I declare I quite 
 dreaded the coming home again.'' 
 
 Fanny has been cutting roses, has she? " • 
 Yes, and I am afraid they will be the last this 
 year. Poor thing! She found it hot enough; but 
 they were so full blown that one could not wait." 
 
 There was no help for it, certainly," rejoined 
 Mrs. Norris, in a rather softened voice; ^^but I 
 question whether her headache might not be caught 
 then, sister. There is nothing so likely to give it 
 as standing and stooping in a hot sun; but I dare 
 say it will be well to-morrow. Suppose you let her 
 have your aromatic vinegar; I always forget to 
 have mine filled." 
 
 " She has got it," said Lady Bertram: ^^she has 
 had it ever since she came back from your house 
 the second time." 
 
 What! " cried Edmund; ^^has she been walk- 
 ing as well as cutting roses, — walking across the 
 hot park to your house, and doing it twice, ma'am? 
 No wonder her head aches." 
 
 Mrs. Norris was talking to Julia, and did not 
 hear. 
 
 ^^I was afraid it would be too much for her," 
 said Lady Bertram; ^^but when the roses were 
 gathered, your aunt wished to have them, and 
 then you know they must be taken home." 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 97 
 
 ^^But were there roses enough to oblige her to 
 go twice? 
 
 ^^1:^0; but they were to be put into the spare 
 room to dry; and, unluckily, Fanny forgot to 
 lock the door of the room and bring away the key, 
 so she was obliged to go again.'' 
 
 Edmund got up and walked about the room, 
 saying, ^^And could nobody be employed on such 
 an errand but Fanny? Upon my word, ma'am, 
 it has been a very ill-managed business." 
 
 ^^I am sure I do not know how it was to have 
 been done better," cried Mrs. Korris, unable to be 
 longer deaf, unless I had gone myself, indeed; 
 but I cannot be in two places at once; and I was 
 talking to Mr. Green at that very time about your 
 mother's dairymaid, by her desire, and had prom- 
 ised John Groom to write to Mrs. Jefferies about 
 his son, and the poor fellow was waiting for me 
 half an hour. I think nobody can justly accuse 
 me of sparing myself upon any occasion, but really 
 I cannot do everything at once. And as for 
 Fanny's just stepping down to my house for me, — it 
 is not much above a quarter of a mile, — I cannot 
 think I was unreasonable to ask it. How often 
 do I pace it three times a day, early and late, ay, 
 and in all weathers too, and say nothing about 
 it?" 
 
 I wish Fanny had half your strength, ma'am." 
 ^^If Fanny would be more regular in her exer- 
 cise, she would not be knocked up so soon. She 
 has not been out on horseback now this long while, 
 and I am persuaded that when she does not ride 
 she ought to walk. If she had been riding before, 
 
 VOL. I. — 7 
 
98 
 
 MANSEIELD PARK. 
 
 I should not have asked it of her. But I thought 
 it would rather do her good after being stooping 
 among the roses; for there is nothing so refresh- 
 ing as a walk after a fatigue of that kind; and 
 though the sun was strong, it was not so very hot. 
 Between ourselves, Edmund/^ nodding signifi- 
 cantly at his mother, ^^it was cutting the roses 
 and dawdling about in the flower-garden that did 
 the mischief.'^ 
 
 ^^I am afraid it was, indeed,'' said the more 
 candid Lady Bertram, who had overheard her; ^^I 
 am very much afraid she caught the .headache 
 there, for the heat was enough to kill anybody. 
 It was as much as I could bear myself. Sitting 
 and calling to Pug, and trying to keep him from 
 the flower-beds, was almost too much for me." 
 
 Edmund said no more to either lady; but going 
 quietly to another table, on which the supper-tray 
 yet remained, brought a glass of Madeira to Fanny, 
 and obliged her to drink the greater part. She 
 wished to be able to decline it; but the tears, 
 which a variety of feelings created, made it easier 
 to swallow than to speak. 
 
 Vexed as Edmund was with his mother and 
 aunt, he was still more angry v/ith himself. His 
 own forgetfulness of her was worse than anything 
 which they had done. Nothing of this would 
 have happened had she been properly considered; 
 but she had been left four days together without 
 any choice of companions or exercise, and without 
 any excuse for avoiding whatever her unreasonable 
 aunts might require. He was ashamed to think 
 that for four days together she had not had the 
 
MANSEIELD PARK. 
 
 99 
 
 power of riding, and very seriously resolved, how- 
 ever unwilling lie must be to check a pleasure of 
 Miss Crawford's, that it should never happen 
 again. 
 
 Fanny went to bed with her heart as full as on 
 the first evening of her arrival at the Park. The 
 state of her spirits had probably had its share in 
 her indisposition; for she had been feeling ne- 
 glected, and been struggling against discontent 
 and envy for some days past. As she leaned on 
 the sofa, to which she had retreated that she might 
 not be seen, the pain of her mind had been much 
 beyond that in her head; and the sudden change 
 which Edmund's kindness had then occasioned 
 made her hardly know how to support herself. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Fanny's rides recommenced the very next day; 
 and as it was a pleasant fresh-feeling morning, 
 less hot than the weather had lately been, Ed- 
 mund trusted that her losses both of health and 
 pleasure would be soon made good. While she 
 was gone, Mr. Eushworth arrived, escorting his 
 mother, who came to be civil, and to show her 
 civility especially in urging the execution of 
 the plan for visiting Sotherton, which had been 
 started a fortnight before, and which, in conse- 
 quence of her subsequent absence from home, had 
 since lain dormant. Mrs. Norris and her nieces 
 were all well pleased with its revival, and an 
 early day was named, and agreed to, provided 
 Mr. Crawford should be disengaged: the young 
 ladies did not forget that stipulation, and though 
 Mrs. Norris would willingly have answered for 
 his being so, they would neither authorize the 
 liberty nor run the risk; and at last, on a hint 
 from Miss Bertram, Mr. Eushworth discovered 
 that the properest thing to be done was for him 
 to walk down to the Parsonage directly, and call 
 on Mr. Crawford, and inquire whether Wednesday 
 would suit him or not. 
 
 Before his return Mrs. Grant and Miss Craw- 
 ford came in. Having been out some time, and 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 101 
 
 taken a different route to the house, they had 
 not met him. Comfortable hopes, however, were 
 given that he would find Mr. Crawford at home. 
 The Sotherton Kscheme was mentioned of course. 
 It was hardly possible, indeed, that anything else 
 should be talked of, for Mrs. ISTorris was in high 
 spirits about it; and Mrs. Rushworth, a well- 
 meaning, civil, prosing, pompous woman, who 
 thought nothing of consequence, but as it related 
 to her own and her son's concerns, had not yet 
 given over pressing Lady Bertram to be of the 
 party. Lady Bertram constantly declined it; but 
 her placid manner of refusal made Mrs. Rush- 
 worth still think she wished to come, till Mrs. 
 Norris's more numerous words and louder tone 
 convinced her of the truth. 
 
 ^^The fatigue would be too much for my sister, 
 a great deal too much, I assure you, my dear Mrs. 
 Kushworth. Ten miles there, and ten back, you 
 know. You must excuse my sister on this occa- 
 sion, and accept of our two dear girls and myself 
 without her. Sotherton is the only place that 
 could give her a wish to go so far, but it cannot 
 be indeed. She will have a companion in Fanny 
 Price, you know, so it will all do very well ; and 
 as for Edmund, as he is not here to speak for 
 himself, I will answer for his being most happy 
 to join the party. He can go on horseback, 
 you know." 
 
 Mrs. Eushworth, being obliged to yield to Lad}^ 
 Bertram's staying at home, could only be sorry. 
 ^^The loss of her Ladyship's company would be 
 a great drawback, and she should have been ex- 
 
102 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 tremely happy to have seen the young lady too, 
 Miss Price, who had never been at Sotherton 
 yet, and it was a pity she should not see the 
 place.'' 
 
 ^^Tou are very kind, you are all kindness, my 
 dear madam, '' cried Mrs. Norris; ^^but as to 
 Fanny, she will have opportunities in plenty of 
 seeing Sotherton. She has time enough before 
 her; and her going now is quite out of the ques- 
 tion. Lady Bertram could not possibly spare 
 her." 
 
 ^^Oh, no, — I cannot do without Fanny. 
 
 Mrs. E/Ushworth proceeded next, under the 
 conviction that everybody must be wanting to 
 see Sotherton, to include Miss Crawford in the 
 invitation; and though Mrs. Grant, who had not 
 been at the trouble of visiting Mrs. Eushworth 
 on her coming into the neighborhood, civilly 
 declined it on her own account, she was glad to 
 secure any pleasure for her sister; and Mary, 
 properly pressed and persuaded, was not long in 
 accepting her share of the civility. Mr. Eush- 
 worth came back from the Parsonage successful; 
 and Edmund made his appearance just in time 
 to learn what had been settled for Wednesday, 
 to attend Mrs. Eushworth to her carriage, and 
 walk half-way down the park with the two other 
 ladies. 
 
 On his return to the breakfast-room, he found 
 Mrs. ISTorris trying to make up her mind as to 
 whether Miss Crawford's being of the party were 
 desirable or not, or whether her brother's ba- 
 rouche would not be full without her. The Miss 
 
MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 103 
 
 Bertrams laughed at the idea, assuring her that 
 the barouche would hold four perfectly well, in- 
 dependent of the box, on which one might go 
 with him. 
 
 " But why is it necessary,'' said Edmund, ^^that 
 Crawford's carriage, or his only, should be em- 
 ployed? Why is no use to be made of my mother's 
 chaise? I coiild not, when the scheme was first 
 mentioned the other day, understand why a visit 
 from the family were not to be made in the car- 
 riage of the family." 
 
 ^^What! " cried Julia; go boxed up three in 
 a postchaise in this weather, when we may have 
 seats in a barouche! No, my dear Edmund, that 
 will not quite do." 
 
 Besides," said Maria, ^^I know that Mr. 
 Crawford depends upon taking us. After what 
 passed at first, he would claim it as a promise." 
 
 ^^And, my dear Edmund," added Mrs. JSTorris, 
 taking out two carriages when one will do, would 
 be trouble for nothing; and between ourselves, 
 coachman is not very fond of the roads between 
 this and Sotherton: he always complains bitterly 
 of the narrow lanes scratching his carriage, and 
 you know one should not like to have dear Sir 
 Thomas, when he comes home, find all the varnish 
 scratched off." 
 
 That would not be a very handsome reason for 
 using Mr. Crawford's," said Maria; ^^but the 
 truth is, that Wilcox is a stupid old fellow, and 
 does not know how to drive. I will answer for it 
 that we shall find no inconvenience from narrow 
 roads on Wednesday." 
 
104 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 There is no hardship, I suppose, nothing 
 unpleasant, ' ' said Edmund, ^^in going on the 
 barouche box.'^ 
 
 ^ ^ Unpleasant ! " cried Maria; ^^oh dear, I be- 
 lieve it v/ould be generally thought the favorite 
 seat. There can be no comparison as to one's 
 view of the country. Probably Miss Crawford 
 will choose the barouche box herself. 
 
 There can be no objection then to Fanny's 
 going with you; there can be no doubt of your 
 having room for her." 
 
 Fanny!'' repeated Mrs. Norris; ^^my dear 
 Edmund, there is no idea of her going with us. 
 She stays with her aunt. I told Mrs. Eush worth 
 so. She is not expected." 
 
 You can have no reason, I imagine, madam," 
 said he, addressing his mother, ^^for wishing 
 Fanny not to be of the party, but as it relates to 
 yourself, to your own comfort. If you could do 
 without her, you would not wish to keep her at 
 home?" 
 
 '^To be sure not, but I cannot do without her." 
 You can, if I stay at home with you, as I mean 
 to do." 
 
 There was a general cry out at this. Yes," 
 he continued, there is no necessity for my going, 
 and I mean to stay at home. Fanny has a great 
 desire to see Sotherton. I know she wishes it 
 very much. She has not often a gratification of 
 the kind, and I am sure, ma'am, you would be 
 glad to give her the pleasure now? ^' 
 
 ^^Oh, yes, very glad, if your aunt sees no 
 objection." 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 105 
 
 Mrs. Norris was very ready with the only objec- 
 tion which could remain, — their having positively 
 assured Mrs. Rushworth that Panny could not go, 
 and the very strange appearance there would con- 
 sequently be in taking her, which seemed to her a 
 difficulty quite impossible to be got over. It must 
 have the strangest appearance! It would be some- 
 thing so very unceremonious, so bordering on dis- 
 respect for Mrs. Rushworth, whose own manners 
 were such a pattern of good-breeding and atten- 
 tion, that she really did not feel equal to it. Mrs. 
 Norris had no affection for Fanny, and no wish of 
 procuring her pleasure at any time; but her opposi- 
 tion to Edmund now arose more from partiality for 
 her own scheme, because it was her own, than from 
 anything else. She felt that she had arranged 
 everything extremely well, and that any alteration 
 must be for the worse. When Edmund, therefore, 
 told her in reply, as he did when she would give 
 him the hearing, that she need not distress herself 
 on Mrs. Rushworth^s account, because he had 
 taken the opportunity as he walked with her 
 through the hall of mentioning Miss Price as 
 one who would probably be of the party, and had 
 directly received a very sufficient invitation for his 
 cousin, Mrs. Norris was too much vexed to submit 
 with a very good grace, and would only say, Very 
 well, very well, just as you choose, settle it your 
 own way, I am sure I do not care about it.'^ 
 
 ^^It seems very odd, said Maria, ^^that you 
 should be staying at home instead of Fanny." 
 
 " I am sure she ought to be very much obliged to 
 you," added Julia, hastily leaving the room as she 
 
106 
 
 MANSFIELD PAEK. 
 
 spoke, from a consciousness that she ought to offer 
 to stay at home herself. 
 
 Fanny will feel quite as grateful as the occa- 
 sion requires/' was Edmund's only reply; and the 
 subject dropped. 
 
 Fanny's gratitude, when she heard the plan, 
 was in fact much greater than her pleasure. She 
 felt Edmund's kindness with all, and more than 
 all, the sensibility which he, unsuspicious of her 
 fond attachment, could be aware of; but that he 
 should forego any enjoyment on her account gave 
 her pain, and her own satisfaction in seeing Sother- 
 ton would be nothing without him. 
 
 The next meeting of the two Mansfield families 
 produced another alteration in the plan, and one 
 that was admitted with general approbation. Mrs. 
 Grant offered herself as companion for the day 
 to Lady Bertram in lieu of her son, and Dr. Grant 
 was to join them at dinner. Lady Bertram was 
 very well pleased to have it so, and the young 
 ladies were in spirits again. Even Edmund was 
 very thankful for an arrangement which restored 
 him to his share of the party; and Mrs. Norris 
 thought it an excellent plan, and had it at her 
 tongue's end, and was on the point of proposing it, 
 when Mrs. Grant spoke. 
 
 Wednesday was fine, and soon after breakfast 
 the barouche arrived, Mr. Crawford driving his 
 sisters; and as everybody w^as ready, there was 
 nothing to be done but for Mrs. Grant to alight 
 and the others to take their places. The place of 
 all places, the envied seat, the post of honor, was 
 unappropriated. To whose happy lot was it to 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 107 
 
 fall? While eacli of the Miss Bertrams was 
 meditating how best, and with most appearance of 
 obliging the others, to secure it, the matter was 
 settled by Mrs. Grant's saying, as she stepped 
 from the carriage, ^^As there are five of you, it 
 will be better that one should sit with Henry; and 
 as you were saying lately that you wished you 
 could drive, Julia, I think this will be a good op- 
 portunity for you to take a lesson." 
 
 Happy Julia! Unhappy Maria! The former 
 was on the barouche box in a moment, the latter 
 took her seat within, in gloom and mortification; 
 and the carriage drove off amid the good wishes of 
 the two remaining ladies, and the barking of pug 
 in his mistress's arms. 
 
 Their road was through a pleasant country; and 
 Fanny, whose rides had never been extensive, was 
 soon beyond her knowledge, and was very happy 
 in observing all that was new, and admiring all 
 that was pretty. She was not often invited to join 
 in the conversation of the others, nor did she desire 
 it. Her own thoughts and reflections were habit- 
 ually her best companions; and in observing the 
 appearance of the country, the bearings of the 
 roads, the difference of soil, the state of the har- 
 vest, the cottages, the cattle, the children, she 
 found entertainment that could only have been 
 heightened by having Edmund to speak to of what 
 she felt. That was the only point of resemblance 
 between her and the lady who sat by her; in every- 
 thing but a value for Edmund, Miss Crawford was 
 very unlike her. She had none of Eanny's deli- 
 cacy of taste, of mind, of feeling; she saw nature. 
 
108 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 inanimate nature, with little observation; her at* 
 tention was all for men and women, her talents for 
 the light and lively. In looking back after Ed- 
 mund, however, when there was any stretch of road 
 behind them, or when he gained on them in as- 
 cending a considerable hill, they were united, and 
 a ' ' There he is ! ' ' broke at the same moment from 
 them both, more than once. 
 
 For the first seven miles Miss Bertram had very 
 little real comfort: her prospect always ended in 
 Mr. Crawford and her sister sitting side by side 
 full of conversation and merriment; and to see 
 only his expressive profile as he turned with a 
 smile to Julia, or to catch the laugh of the other, 
 was a perpetual source of irritation, w^hich her own 
 sense of propriety could but just smooth over. 
 When Julia looked back, it was with a counte- 
 nance of delight; and whenever she spoke to them, 
 it was in the highest spirits: ^^her view of the 
 country was charming, she wished they could all 
 see it," etc., but her only offer of exchange was ad- 
 dressed to Miss Crawford, as they gained the sum- 
 mit of a long hill, and was not more inviting than 
 this: *^Here is a fine burst of country. I wish 
 you had my seat, but I dare say you will not take 
 it, let me press you ever so much; " and Miss 
 Crawford could hardly answer, before they were 
 moving again at a good pace. 
 
 When they came within the influence of Sother- 
 ton associations, it was better for Miss Bertram, 
 who might be said to have two strings to her bow. 
 She had Eushworth-feelings and Crawford-feel- 
 ings, and in the vicinity of Sotherton the former 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 109 
 
 Iiad considerable effect. Mr. Rushworth's conse- 
 quence was hers. She could not tell Miss Craw- 
 ford that those woods belonged to Sotherton/' 
 she could not carelessly observe that ^^she believed 
 it was now all Mr. E-ush worth's property on eac? 
 side of the road," without elation of heart; and i 
 w^as a pleasure to increase with their approach to 
 the capital freehold mansion, and ancient manorial 
 residence of the family, with all its rights of court- 
 leet and court-baron. 
 
 *^Kow we shall have no more rough road, Miss 
 Crawford; our difficulties are over. The rest of 
 the way is such as it ought to be. Mr. Rush- 
 worth has made it since he succeeded to the es- 
 tate. Here begins the village. Those cottages 
 are really a disgrace. The church spire is reck- 
 oned remarkably handsome. I am glad the church 
 is not so close to the Great House as often happens 
 in old places. The annoyance of the bells must 
 be terrible. There is the parsonage, — a tidy-look- 
 ing house, and I understand the clergyman and 
 his wife are very decent people. Those are alms- 
 houses, built by some of the famil}^ To the right 
 is the steward's house; he is a very respectable 
 man. Now we are coming to the lodge gates ; but 
 we have nearly a mile through the park still. It 
 is not ugly, you see, at this end; there is some 
 fine timber, but the situation of the house is 
 dreadful. We go down hill to it for half a mile ; 
 and it is a pity, for it would not be an ill-looking 
 place if it had a better approach.'^ 
 
 Miss Crawford was not slow to admire; she 
 pretty well guessed Miss Bertram's feelings, and 
 
110 
 
 MANSEIELD PARK. 
 
 made it a point of honor to promote her enjoyment 
 to the utmost. Mrs. !N"orris was all delight and 
 volubility; and even Fanny had something to say 
 in admiration, and might be heard with com- 
 placency. Her eye was eagerly taking in every- 
 thing within her reach; and after being at some 
 pains to get a view of the house, and observing 
 that ^^it was a sort of building which she could 
 not look at but with respect,'^ she added, ^^ISTow, 
 where is the avenue? The house fronts the east, I 
 perceive. The avenue, therefore, must be at the 
 back of it. Mr. Eushworth talked of the w^est 
 front. 
 
 Yes, it is exactly behind the house; begins at 
 a little distance, and ascends for half a mile to the 
 extremity of the grounds. You may see some- 
 thing of it here, — something of the more distant 
 trees. It is oak entirely.'^ 
 
 Miss Bertram could now speak with decided in- 
 formation of what she had known nothing about 
 when Mr. Kushworth had asked her opinion; and 
 her spirits were in as happy a flutter as vanity and 
 pride could furnish, when they drove up to the 
 spacious stone steps before the principal entrance. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Mr. Eushworth was at the door to receive his 
 fair lady; and the whole party were welcomed by 
 him with due attention. In the drawing-room 
 they were met with equal cordiality by the 
 mother, and Miss Bertram had all the distinction 
 with each that she could wish. After the business 
 of arriving was over, it was first necessary to eat, 
 and the doors were thrown open to admit them 
 through one or two intermediate rooms into the 
 appointed dining-parlor, where a collation was pre- 
 pared with abundance and elegance. Much was 
 said, and much was ate; and all went well. The 
 particular object of the day was then considered. 
 How would Mr. Crawford like, in what manner 
 would he choose, to take a survey of the grounds? 
 Mr. Rushworth mentioned his curricle. Mr. 
 Crawford suggested the greater desirableness of 
 some carriage which might convey more than two. 
 ^^To be depriving themselves of the advantage of 
 other eyes and other judgments might be an evil 
 even beyond the loss of present pleasure. 
 
 Mrs. Eushworth proposed that the chaise should 
 be taken also; ♦but this was scarcely received as an 
 amendment: the young ladies neither smiled nor 
 spoke. Her next proposition of showing the 
 
112 
 
 MANSFIELD PAUK. 
 
 house to sncli of them as had not been there he- 
 fore was more acceptable; for Miss Bertram was 
 pleased to have its size displayed, and all were 
 glad to be doing something. 
 
 The whole party rose accordingly, and under 
 Mrs. Kushworth's guidance were shown through 
 a number of rooms, all lofty, and many large and 
 amply furnished in the taste of fifty years back, 
 with shining floors, solid mahogany, rich damask, 
 marble, gilding and carving, each handsome in its 
 way. Of pictures there were abundance, and some 
 few good ; but the larger part were family portraits 
 no longer anything to anybody but Mrs". Eush- 
 worth, who had been at great pains to learn all 
 that the housekeeper could teach, and was now 
 almost equally well qualified to show the house. 
 On the present occasion she addressed herself 
 chiefly to Miss Crawford and Fanny, but there 
 was no comparison in the willingness of their 
 attention; for Miss Crawford, who had seen scores 
 of great houses, and cared for none of them, had 
 only the appearance of civilly listening, while 
 Fanny, to whom everything was almost as inter- 
 esting as it was new, attended with unaffected 
 earnestness to all that Mrs. Eushworth could re- 
 late of the family in former times, its rise and 
 grandeur, regal visits and loyal efforts, delighted 
 to connect anything with history already known, 
 or warm her imagination with scenes of the past. 
 
 The situation of the house excluded the possi- 
 bility of much prospect from any of the rooms; 
 and while Fanny and some of the others were 
 attending Mrs. Eushworth, Henry Crawford was 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 113 
 
 looking grave and shaking his head at the windows. 
 Every room on the west front looked across a 
 lawn to the beginning of the avenue immediately 
 beyond tall iron palisades and gates. 
 
 Having visited many more rooms than could be 
 supposed to be of any other use than to contribute 
 to the window tax, and find employment for house- 
 maids, ^^Now/' said Mrs. Eushworth, ^^we are 
 coming to the chapel, which probably we ought to 
 enter from above, and look down upon; but as we 
 are quite among friends, I will take you in this 
 waj^, if you will excuse me." 
 
 They entered. Fanny's imagination had pre- 
 pared her for something grander than a mere 
 spacious, oblong room, fitted up for the purpose 
 of devotion, — with nothing more striking or more 
 solemn than the profusion of mahogany, and the 
 crimson velvet cushions appearing over the ledge 
 of the family gallery above. I am disappointed, " 
 said she, in a low voice to Edmund. ^^This is 
 not my idea of a chapel. There is nothing awful 
 here, nothing melancholy, nothing grand. Here 
 are no aisles, no arches, no inscriptions, no banners. 
 No banners, cousin, to be ^ blown by the night 
 wind of heaven.' ISTo signs that a ^Scottish 
 monarch sleeps below.' " 
 
 ^^You forget, Eanny, how lately all this has 
 been built, and for how confined a purpose, com- 
 pared with the old chapels of castles and monas- 
 teries. It was only for the private use of the 
 family. They have been buried, T suppose, in 
 the parish church. There you must look for the 
 banners and the achievements." 
 
 VOL. I. — 8 
 
114 
 
 MANSEIELD PARK. 
 
 ^^It was foolish of me not to think of all that, 
 but I am disappointed.'^ 
 
 Mrs. Kushworth began her relation. ^^This 
 chapel was fitted up as you see it in James the 
 Second's time. Before that period, as I under- 
 stand, the pews were only wainscot; and there is 
 some reason to think that the linings and cushions 
 of the pulpit and family seat were only purple 
 cloth; but this is not quite certain. It is a hand- 
 some chapel, and was formerly in constant use both 
 morning and evening. Prayers were always read 
 in it by the domestic chaplain, within the memory 
 of many; but the late Mr. Rushworth left it o£f.'^ 
 
 Every generation has its improvements^'^ said 
 Miss Crawford, with a smile to Edmund. 
 
 Mrs. Kushworth was gone to repeat her lesson 
 to Mr. Crawford; and Edmund, Eanny, and Miss 
 Crawford remained in a cluster together. 
 
 ^^It is a pity," cried Eanny, ^^that the custom 
 should have been discontinued. It was a valuable 
 part of former times. There is something in a 
 chapel and chaplain so much in character with 
 a great house, with one's ideas of what such a 
 household should be ! A whole family assembling 
 regularly for the purpose of prayer is fine ! " 
 
 ^^Very fine, indeed!" said Miss Crawford, 
 laughing. ^^It must do the heads of the family a 
 great deal of good to force all the poor housemaids 
 and footmen to leave business and pleasure and 
 say their prayers here twice a day, while they are 
 inventing excuses themselves for staying away.'' 
 
 ^^That is hardly Fanny's idea of a family as- 
 sembling," said Edmund. ^^If the master and 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 115 
 
 mistress do not attend themselves, there must be 
 more harm than good in the custom.'^ 
 
 At any rate, it is safer to leave people to their 
 own devices on such subjects. Everybody likes 
 to go their own way, — to choose their own time 
 and manner of devotion. The obligation of attend- 
 ance, the formality, the restraint, the length of 
 time, — altogether it is a formidable thing, and 
 what nobody likes; and if the good people who 
 used to kneel and gape in that gallery could have 
 foreseen that the time would ever come when men 
 and women might lie another ten minutes in bed, 
 when they woke with a headache, without danger 
 of reprobation because chapel was missed, they 
 would have jumped with joy and envy. Cannot 
 you imagine with what unwilling feelings the 
 former belles of the house of Eushworth did many 
 a time repair to this chapel? The young Mrs. 
 Eleanors and Mrs. Bridgets, — starched up into 
 seeming piety, but with heads full of something 
 very different, — especially if the poor chaplain 
 were not worth looking at, — and in those days I 
 fancy parsons were very inferior even to what they 
 are now.'' 
 
 Eor a few moments she was unanswered. Eanny 
 colored and looked at Edmund, but felt too angry 
 for speech; and he needed a little recollection 
 before he could say, ' ' Your lively mind can hardly 
 be serious even on serious subjects. You have 
 given us an amusing sketch, and human nature 
 cannot say it was not so. We must all feel at 
 times the difficulty of fixing our thoughts as we 
 could wish ; but if you are supposing it a frequent 
 
116 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 thing, that is to say, a weakness grown into a 
 habit from neglect, what could be expected from 
 the private devotions of such persons? Do you 
 think the minds which are suffered, which are 
 indulged in wanderings in a chapel, would be 
 more collected in a closet? 
 
 ^^Yes, very likely. They would have two 
 chances at least in their favor. There would be 
 less to distract the attention from without, and it 
 would not be tried so long.'^ 
 
 ^^The mind which does not struggle against it- 
 self under one circumstance would find objects to 
 distract it in the other, I believe; and the in- 
 fluence of the place and of example may often 
 rouse better feelings than are begun with. The 
 greater length of the service, however, I admit to 
 be sometimes too hard a stretch upon the mind. 
 One wishes it were not so; but I have not yet 
 left Oxford long enough to forget what chapel 
 prayers are." 
 
 While this was passing, the rest of the party 
 being scattered about the chapel, Julia called Mr. 
 Crawford's attention to her sister by saying, ^^Do 
 look at Mr. Eushworth and Maria, standing side 
 by side, exactly as if the ceremony were going to 
 be performed. Have not they completely the air 
 of it?" 
 
 Mr. Crawford smiled his acquiescence, and step- 
 ping forward to Maria, said, in a voice which she 
 only could hear, ^^I do not like to see Miss Ber- 
 tram so near the altar." 
 
 Starting, the lady instinctively moved a step or 
 two 3 but recovering herself in a moment, affected 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 117 
 
 to laugh, and asked him, in a tone not much 
 louder, if he would give her away. 
 
 ^^I am afraid I should do it very awkwardly,'^ 
 was his reply, with a look of meaning. 
 
 Julia, joining them at the moment, carried on 
 the joke. 
 
 ^^Upon my word, it is really a pity that it 
 should not take place directly, if we had but a 
 proper license; for here we are all together, and 
 nothing in the world could be more snug and 
 pleasant.^' And she talked and laughed about it 
 with so little caution as to catch the comprehen- 
 sion of Mr. Kushworth and his mother, and expose 
 her sister to the whispered gallantries of her lover, 
 while Mrs. Rushworth spoke with proper smiles 
 and dignity of its being a most happy event to 
 her whenever it took place. 
 
 ^^If Edmund were but in orders! cried Julia, 
 and running to where he stood with Miss Crawford 
 and Fanny. My dear Edmund, if you were but in 
 orders now, you might perform the ceremony 
 directly. How unlucky that you are not ordained ! 
 Mr. Rushworth and Maria are quite ready." 
 
 Miss Crawford's countenance, as Julia spoke, 
 might have amused a disinterested observer. She 
 looked almost aghast under the new idea she was 
 receiving. Fanny pitied her. 
 
 "^How distressed she will be at what she said 
 just now! passed across her mind. 
 
 Ordained! said Miss Crawford: ^^what, are 
 you to be a clergyman? 
 
 ' ' Yes ; I shall take orders soon after my father's 
 return, — probably at Christmas.'' 
 
118 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 Miss Crawford, rallying her spirits and recover- 
 ing her complexion, replied only, If I had known 
 this before, I would have spoken of the cloth with 
 more respect," and turned the subject. 
 
 The chapel was soon afterwards left to the 
 silence and stillness which reigned in it, with few 
 interruptions, throughout the year. Miss Ber- 
 tram, displeased with her sister, led the way ; and 
 all seemed to feel that they had been there long 
 enough. 
 
 The lower part of the house had been now en- 
 tirely shown; and Mrs. Eushworth, never. weary 
 in the cause, would have proceeded towards the 
 principal staircase, and taken them through all 
 the rooms above, if her son had not interposed 
 with a doubt of there being time enough. ^^For 
 if,'' said he, with the sort of self-evident proposi- 
 tion which many a clearer head does not always 
 avoid, ''we are too long going over the house, we 
 shall not have time for what is to be done out of 
 doors. It is past two, and we are to dine at 
 five.'' 
 
 Mrs. Eushworth submitted; and the question 
 for surveying the grounds, with the who and the 
 how, was likely to be more fully agitated, and 
 Mrs. I^Torris was beginning to arrange by what 
 junction of carriages and horses most could be 
 done, when the young people, meeting with an 
 outward door, temptingly open on a flight of steps 
 w^hich led immediately to turf and shrubs, and all 
 the sweets of pleasure-grounds, as by one impulse, 
 one wish for air and liberty, all walked out. 
 
 Suppose we turn down here for the present,'^ 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 119 
 
 said Mrs. Eushworth, civilly taking the hint and 
 following tliem. ^^Here are the greatest number 
 of our plants, and here are the curious pheasants.^' 
 
 Query," said Mr. Crawford, looking round 
 him, whether we may not find something to 
 employ us here, before we go farther? I see 
 walls of great promise. Mr. E-ushworth, shall we 
 summon a council on this lawn?'^ 
 
 James," said Mrs. Rushworth to her son, ^^I 
 believe the wilderness will be new to all the party. 
 The Miss Bertrams have never seen the wilderness 
 
 yet.'' 
 
 'No objection was made, but for some time there 
 seemed no inclination to move in any plan or to 
 any distai^xe. All were attracted at first by the 
 plants or the pheasants, and all dispersed about 
 in happy independence. Mr. Crawford was the 
 first to move forward, to examine the capabilities 
 of that end of the house. The lawn, bounded on 
 each side by a high wall, contained beyond the 
 first planted area a bowling-green, and beyond the 
 bowling-green a long terrace walk, backed by 
 iron palisades, and commanding a view over them 
 into the tops of the trees of the wilderness imme- 
 diately adjoining. It was a good spot for fault- 
 finding. Mr. Crawford was soon followed by 
 Miss Bertram and Mr. Eushworth; and when 
 after a little time the others began to form into 
 parties, these three were found in busy consulta- 
 tion on the terrace by Edmund, Miss Crawford, 
 and Fanny, who seemed as naturally to unite, and 
 who, after a short participation of their regrets 
 and difficulties, left them and walked on. The 
 
120 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 remaining three — Mrs. Kushworth, Mrs. Norris, 
 and Julia — were still far behind; for Julia, whose 
 happy star no longer prevailed, was obliged to 
 keep by the side of Mrs. E-ushworth, and restrain 
 her impatient feet to that lady's slow pace, while 
 her aunt, having fallen in with the housekeeper, 
 who was come out to feed the pheasants, was lin- 
 gering behind in gossip with her. Poor Julia, 
 the only one out of the nine not tolerably satisfied 
 with their lot, was now in a state of complete 
 penance, and as different from the Julia of the 
 barouche box as could well be imagined. The 
 politeness which she had been brought up to prac- 
 tise as a duty made it impossible for her to escape; 
 while the want of that higher species of self- 
 command, that just consideration of others, that 
 knowledge of her own heart, that principle of 
 right which had not formed any essential part of 
 her education, made her miserable under it. 
 
 ^^This is insufferably hot,'' said Miss Crawford 
 when they had taken one turn on the terrace, and 
 were drawing a second time to the door in the mid- 
 dle which opened to the wilderness. " Shall any 
 of us object to being comfortable? Here is a nice 
 little wood, if one can but get into it. What hap- 
 piness if the door should not be locked! — but of 
 course it is ; for in these great places the gardeners 
 are the only people who can go where they like." 
 
 The door, however, proved not to be locked, and 
 they were all agreed in turning joyfully through 
 it, and leaving the unmitigated glare of day be- 
 hind. A considerable flight of steps landed them 
 in the wilderness, which was a planted wood of 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 121 
 
 about two acres, and though chiefly of larch and 
 laurel, and beech cut down, and though laid out 
 with too much regularity, was darkness and shade, 
 and natural beauty, compared with the bowling- 
 green and the terrace. They all felt the refresh- 
 ment of it, and for some time could only walk and 
 admire. At length, after a short pause. Miss 
 Crawford began with, So you are to be a clergy- 
 man, Mr. Bertram. This is rather a surprise to 
 me.'' 
 
 Why should it surprise you? You must sup- 
 pose me designed for some profession, and might 
 perceive that I am neither a lawyer nor a soldier 
 nor a sailor.'' 
 
 Very true; but, in short, it had not occurred 
 to me. And you know there is generally an uncle 
 or a grandfather to leave a fortune to the second 
 son." 
 
 A very praiseworthy practice," said Edmund, 
 ^^but not quite universal. I am one of the excep- 
 tions, and being one, must do something for 
 myself." 
 
 ^^But why are you to be a clergyman? I 
 thought that was always the lot of the youngest, 
 where there were many to choose before him." 
 
 Do you think the church itself never chosen, 
 then? " 
 
 ^ ' ' Kever ' is a black word. But yes, in the ^ never ' 
 of conversation which means ' not very often, ' I do 
 think it. For what is to be done in the church? 
 Men love to distinguish themselves, and in either 
 of the other lines distinction may be gained, but 
 not in the church. A clergyman is nothing." 
 
122 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 ^^The ^nothing' of conversation has ifcs grada- 
 tions, I hope, as well as the ' never.' A clergyman 
 cannot be high in state or fashion. He must not 
 head mobs, or set the ton in dress. But I cannot 
 call that situation nothing, which has the charge 
 of all that is of the first importance to mankind, 
 individually or collectively considered, temporally 
 and eternally, — which has the guardianship of 
 religion and morals, and consequently of the man- 
 ners which result from their influence. No one 
 here can call the office nothing. If the man who 
 holds it is so, it is by the neglect of his duty, by 
 foregoing its just importance, and stepping out of 
 his place to appear what he ought not to appear.'' 
 
 " You assign greater consequence to the clergy- 
 man than one has been used to hear given, or than 
 I can quite comprehend. One does not see much 
 of this influence and importance in society, and 
 how can it be acquired where they are so seldom 
 seen themselves? How can two sermons a week, 
 even supposing them worth hearing, supposing the 
 preacher to have tlie sense to prefer Blair's to his 
 own, do all that you speak of, — govern the conduct 
 and fashion the manners of a large congregation 
 for the rest of the week? One scarcely sees a 
 clergyman out of his pulpit." 
 
 ^^You are speaking of London, I am speaking 
 of the nation at large." 
 
 ^^The metropolis, I imagine, is a pretty fair 
 sample of the rest." 
 
 ^^Not, I should hope, of the proportion of virtue 
 to vice throughout the kingdom. We do not look 
 in great cities for our best morality. It is not 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 123 
 
 there that respectable people of any denomination 
 can do most good; and it certainly is not there 
 that the influence of the clergy can be most felt. 
 A fine preacher is followed and admired; but it is 
 not in fine preaching only that a good clergyman 
 will be useful in his parish and his neighborhood, 
 where the parish and neigliborhood are of a size 
 capable of knowing his private character, and ob- 
 serving his general conduct, which in London can 
 rarely be the case. The clergy are lost there in 
 the crowds of their parishioners. They are known 
 to the largest part only as preachers. And with 
 regard to their influencing public manners. Miss 
 Crawford must not misunderstand me, or suppose 
 I mean to call them the arbiters of good breeding, 
 the regulators of refinement and courtesy, the 
 masters of the ceremonies of life. The manners 
 I speak of might rather be called conduct, perhaps, 
 the result of good principles ; the effect, in short, 
 of those doctrines which it is their duty to teach 
 and recommend; and it will, I believe, be every- 
 where found that as the clergy are, or are not 
 what they ought to be, so are the rest of the 
 nation.'^ 
 
 ' ' Certainly, ' ' said Fanny, with gentle earnest- 
 ness. 
 
 There, cried Miss Crawford, ^^you have 
 quite convinced Miss Price already.'' 
 
 I wish I could convince Miss Crawford too.'' 
 ^^I do not think you ever will," said she, with 
 an arch smile; 1 am just as much surprised now 
 as I was at first that you should intend to take 
 orders. You really are fit for something better^ 
 
124 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 Come, do change your mind. It is not too Lite. 
 Go into the law." 
 
 " Go into the law! with as much ease as I was 
 told to go into this wilderness." 
 
 "^ow you are going to say something about 
 law being the worse wilderness of the two, but I 
 forestall you; remember I have forestalled you." 
 
 " You need not hurry when the object is only to 
 prevent my sajdng a bon mot, for there is not the 
 least wit in my nature. I am a very matter-of- 
 fact, plain-spoken being, and may blunder on the 
 borders of a repartee for half an hour, together 
 without striking it out." 
 
 A general silence succeeded. Each was thought- 
 ful. Fanny made the first interruption by saying, 
 ' ' I wonder that I should be tired with only walk- 
 ing in this sweet wood; but the next time we come 
 to a seat, if it is not disagreeable to you, I should 
 be glad to sit down for a little while." 
 
 dear Fanny," cried Edmund, immediately 
 drawing her arm within his, how thoughtless I 
 have been! I hope you are not very tired. Per- 
 haps," turning to Miss Crawford, my other 
 companion may do me the honor of taking an 
 arm." 
 
 Thank you, but I am not at all tired." She 
 took it, however, as she spoke; and the gratifica- 
 tion of having her do so, of feeling such a connec- 
 tion for the first time, made him a little forgetful 
 of Fanny. ^^You scarcely touch me," said he. 
 
 You do not make me of any use. What a differ- 
 ence in the weight of a woman's arm from that of 
 a man! At Oxford I have been a good deal used 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 125 
 
 to have a man lean on me for the length of a street, 
 and you are only a fly in the comparison.'^ 
 
 ^ ^ I am really not tired, which I almost wonder 
 at; for we must have walked at least a mile in 
 this wood. Do not you think we have? '' 
 
 ^^ISTot half a mile/' was his sturdy answer; for 
 he was not yet so much in love as to measure dis- 
 tance or reckon time with feminine lawlessness. 
 
 ^' Oh, you do not consider how much we have 
 wound about. We have taken such a very ser- 
 pentine course ; and the wood itself must be half a 
 mile long in a straight line, for we have never 
 seen the end of it yet, since we left the first great 
 path." 
 
 ^^But if you remember, before we left that first 
 great path, we saw directly to the end of it. We 
 looked down the whole vista, and saw it closed by 
 iron gates; and it could not have been more than a 
 furlong in length." 
 
 Oh, I know nothing of your furlongs, but I 
 am sure it is a very long wood, and that we have 
 been winding in and out ever since we came into 
 it; and therefore when I say that we have walked 
 a mile in it, I must speak within compass." 
 
 ^*We have been exactly a quarter of an hour 
 here," said Edmund, taking out his watch. ^' Do 
 you think we are walking four miles an hour? " 
 
 ^^Oh, do not attack me with your watch. A 
 watch is always too fast or too slow. I cannot be 
 dictated to by a watch." 
 
 A few steps farther brought them out at the 
 bottom of the very walk they had been talking of; 
 and standing back, well shaded and sheltered, and 
 
126 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 looking over a ha-ha into the park, was a comfort- 
 able-sized bench, on which they all sat down. 
 
 ^^I am afraid you are very tired, Fanny, said 
 Edmund, observing her; why would not you 
 speak sooner? This will be a bad day's amuse- 
 ment for you, if you are to be knocked up. Every 
 sort of exercise fatigues her so soon. Miss Craw- 
 ford, except riding. 
 
 ^^How abominable in you, then, to let me en- 
 gross her horse as I did all last w^eek! I am 
 ashamed of you and of myself, but it shall never 
 happen again. 
 
 ^^Your attentiveness and consideration make 
 me more sensible of my own neglect. Fanny's 
 interest seems in safer hands with you than 
 with me.'' 
 
 ^^That she should be tired now, however, gives 
 me no surprise; for there is nothing in the course 
 of one's duties so fatiguing as what we have been 
 doing this morning, — seeing a great house, daw- 
 dling from one room to another, straining one's 
 eyes and one's attention, hearing what one does 
 not understand, admiring what one does not care 
 for. It is generally allowed to be the greatest 
 bore in the world; and Miss Price has found it 
 so, though she did not know it." 
 
 I shall soon be rested," said Eanny; to sit 
 in the shade on a fine day, and look upon verdure, 
 is the most perfect refreshment." 
 
 After sitting a little while. Miss Crawford was 
 up again. ^^I must move," said she; ^^resting 
 fatigues me. I have looked across the ha-ha till I 
 am weary. I must go and look through that iron 
 
MANSFIELD PAEK. 
 
 127 
 
 gate at the same view, without being able to see it 
 so well.'' 
 
 Edmund left the seat likewise. ^^Kow, Miss 
 Crawford, if you will look up the walk, you will 
 convince yourself that it cannot be half a mile 
 long, or half half a mile.'' 
 
 It is an immense distance," said she; ^^Isee 
 that with a glance." 
 
 He still reasoned with her, but in vain. She 
 would not calculate, she would not compare. She 
 would only smile and assert. The greatest degree 
 of rational consistency could not have been more 
 engaging, and they talked with mutual satisfac- 
 tion. At last it was agreed that they should en- 
 deavor to determine the dimensions of the wood by 
 walking a little more about it. They would go to 
 one end of it, in the line they were then in (for 
 there was a straight green walk along the bottom 
 by the side of the ha-ha), and perhaps turn a little 
 way in some other direction, if it seemed likely to 
 assist them, and be back in a few minutes. Fanny 
 said she was rested, and would have moved too; 
 but this was not suffered. Edmund urged her re- 
 maining where she was with an earnestness which 
 she could not resist, and she was left on the bench 
 to think with pleasure of her cousin's care, but 
 with great regret that she was not stronger. She 
 watched them till they had turned the corner, and 
 listened till all sound of them had ceased. 
 
CHAPTEE X. 
 
 A QUARTER of an hour, twenty minutes, passed 
 away; and Panny was still thinking of Edmund, 
 Miss Crawford, and herself, without interruption 
 from any one. She began to be surprised at being 
 left so long, and to listen with an anxious desire 
 of hearing their steps and their voices again. She 
 listened, and at length she heard; she heard voices 
 and feet approaching; but she had just satisfied 
 herself that it was not those she wanted, when 
 Miss Bertram, Mr. Eush worth, and Mr. Crawford 
 issued from the same path which she had trod 
 herself, and were before her. 
 
 ^^Miss Price all alone! and ^^My dear Panny, 
 how comes this? were the first salutations. She 
 told her story. ^^Poor, dear Panny, cried her 
 cousin, ^Hiow ill you have been used by them! 
 You had better have stayed with us." 
 
 Then seating herself with a gentleman on each 
 side, she resumed the conversation which had en- 
 gaged them before, and discussed the possibility of 
 improvements with much animation. Nothing 
 was fixed on; but Henry Crawford was full of 
 ideas and projects, and, generally speaking, what- 
 ever he proposed was immediately approved, first 
 by her, and then by Mr. Eushworth, whose prin- 
 cipal business seemed to be to hear the others, and 
 
MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 129 
 
 who scarcely risked an original thought of his own 
 beyond a wish that they had seen his friend 
 Smith's place. 
 
 After some minutes spent in this way, Miss Ber- 
 tram, observing the iron gate, expressed a wish of 
 passing through it into the park, that their views 
 and their plans might be more comprehensive. It 
 was the very thing of all others to be wished, it 
 was the best, it was the only way of proceeding 
 with any advantage, in Henry Crawford's opinion; 
 and he directly saw a knoll not half a mile off, 
 which would give them exactly the requisite com- 
 mand of the house. Go therefore they must to 
 that knoll and through that gate ; but the gate was 
 locked. Mr. Eushworth wished he had brought 
 the key; he had been very near thinking whether 
 he should not bring the key; he was determined 
 he would never come without the key again; but 
 still this did not remove the present evil. They 
 could not get through; and as Miss Bertram's in- 
 clination for so doing did by no means lessen, 
 it ended in Mr. Eushworth's declaring outright 
 that he would go and fetch the key. He set off 
 accordingly. 
 
 ^^It is undoubtedly the best thing we can do 
 now, as we are so far from the house already,'' 
 said Mr. Crawford, when he was gone. 
 
 ^^Yes, there is nothing else to be done. But 
 now, sincerely, do not you find the place altogether 
 worse than you expected? " 
 
 ^^No, indeed, far otherwise. I find it better, 
 grander, more complete in its style, though that 
 style may not be the best. And to tell you the 
 
 VOL. I. — 9 
 
130 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 truth,'' speaking rather lower, ^^I do not think 
 that I shall ever see Sotherton again with so much 
 pleasure as I do now. Another summer will hardly 
 improve it to me." 
 
 After a moment's embarrassment the lady re- 
 plied: You are too much a man of the world not 
 to see with the eyes of the world. If other people 
 think Sotherton improved, I have no doubt that 
 you will." 
 
 ^^I am afraid I am not quite so much the man 
 of the world as might be good for me in some 
 points. My feelings are not quite so evanescent, 
 nor my memory of the past under such easy domin- 
 ion as one finds to be the case with men of the 
 world." 
 
 This was followed by a short silence. Miss Ber- 
 tram began again. ^^You seemed to enjoy your 
 drive here very much this morning. I was glad 
 to see you so well entertained. You and Julia 
 were laughing the whole way." 
 
 ^^Were we? Yes, I believe we were; but I 
 have not the least recollection at what. Oh, I be- 
 lieve I was relating to her some ridiculous stories 
 of an old Irish groom of my uncle's. Your sister 
 loves to laugh." 
 
 You think her more light-hearted than I am.'^ 
 
 ^^More easily amused," he replied; ^^conse- 
 quently, you know," smiling, better company. 
 I could not have hoped to entertain you with Irish 
 anecdotes during a ten miles' drive." 
 
 ISTaturall}^, I believe, I am as lively as Julia, 
 but I have more to think of now." 
 
 You have undoubtedly, — and there are situa- 
 
MANSEIELD PAEK. 
 
 131 
 
 tions in wliich veiy high spirits would denote in- 
 sensibility. Your prospects, however, are too fair 
 to justify want of spirits. You have a very 
 smiling scene before you." 
 
 ^^Do you mean literally or figuratively? Liter- 
 ally, I conclude. Yes, certainly, the sun shines, 
 and the park looks very cheerful. But unluckily 
 that iron gate, that ha-ha, give me a feeling of re- 
 straint and hardship. I cannot get out, as the 
 starling said." As she spoke, and it was with ex- 
 pression, she walked to the gate ; he followed her. 
 " Mr. Eushworth is so long fetching this key! ^' 
 
 " And for the world you would not get out with- 
 out the key and without Mr. Rushworth's authority 
 and protection, or I think ^^ou might with little 
 difficulty pass round the edge of the gate, here, 
 with my assistance; I think it might be done, if 
 you really wished to be more at large, and could 
 allow yourself to think it not prohibited." 
 
 Prohibited! i^onsense! I certainly can get out 
 that way, and I will. Mr. Eushworth will be here 
 in a moment, you know, — we shall not be out of 
 sight." 
 
 Or if we are. Miss Price will be so good as to 
 tell him that he will find us near that knoll, the 
 grove of oak on the knoll." 
 
 Panny, feeling all this to be wrong, could not 
 help making an effort to prevent it. You will 
 hurt yourself. Miss Bertram," she cried, ^^you 
 will certainly hurt yourself against those spikes, — 
 you will tear your gown, you will be in danger 
 of slipping into the ha-ha. You had better not 
 go." 
 
132 
 
 MANSFIELD PAEK. 
 
 Her cousin was safe on the other side while 
 these words were spoken; and smiling with all the 
 good-humor of success, she said, Thank you, my 
 dear Fanny ; but I and my gown are alive and well, 
 and so good-hy." 
 
 Fanny was again left to her solitude, and with 
 no increase of pleasant feelings, for she was sorry 
 for almost all that she had seen and heard, as- 
 tonished at Miss Bertram, and angry with Mr. 
 Crawford. By taking a circuitous and, as it ap- 
 peared to her, very unreasonable direction to the 
 knoll, they were soon beyond her eye; and for 
 some minutes longer she remained without sight 
 or sound of any companion. She seemed to have 
 the little wood all to herself. She could almost 
 have thought that Edmund and Miss Crawford had 
 left it, but that it was impossible for Edmund to 
 forget her so entirely. 
 
 She was again roused from disagreeable mus- 
 ings by sudden footsteps; somebody was coming 
 at a quick pace down the principal walk. She 
 expected Mr. Rushworth; but it was Julia, who, 
 hot and out of breath and with a look of disap- 
 pointment, cried out on seeing her: Heyday! 
 where are the others? I thought Maria and Mr. 
 Crawford were with you.'^ 
 
 Eanny explained. 
 
 ^^A pretty trick, upon my word! I cannot 
 see them anywhere," looking eagerly into the 
 park. ^^But they cannot be very far off, and I 
 think I am equal to as much as Maria, even 
 without help." 
 
 ^^But, Julia, Mr. Eush worth will be here 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 133 
 
 in a moment with the key. Do wait for Mr. 
 Eushworth.^^ 
 
 ^^Not I, indeed. I have had enough of the 
 family for one morning. Why, child, I have 
 but this moment escaped from his horrible mother. 
 Such a penance as I have been enduring, while 
 you were sitting here so composed and so happy! 
 It might have been as well, perhaps, if you had 
 been in my place; but you always contrive to 
 keep out of these scrapes.'' 
 
 This was a most unjust reflection; but Fanny 
 could allow for it, and let it pass : Julia was 
 vexed, and her temper was hasty; but she felt 
 that it would not last, and therefore, taking no 
 notice, only asked her if she had not seen Mr. 
 Eushworth. 
 
 ^^Yes, yes, we saw him. He was posting 
 away as if upon life and death, and could but 
 just spare time to tell us his errand, and where 
 you all were.'^ 
 
 ^^It is a pity that he should have so much 
 trouble for nothing.'^ 
 
 '^That is Miss Maria's concern. I am not 
 obliged to punish myself for her sins. The mother 
 I could not avoid, as long as my tiresome aunt 
 was dancing about with the housekeeper; but the 
 son I can get away from." 
 
 And she immediately scrambled across the fence, 
 and walked away, not attending to Fanny's last 
 question of whether she had seen anything of 
 Miss Crawford and Edmund. The sort of dread 
 in which Fanny now sat of seeing Mr. Rush worth 
 prevented her thinking so much of their contin- 
 
134 
 
 MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 ued absence, however, as she might have done. 
 She felt that he had been very ill used, and was 
 quite unhappy in having to communicate what 
 had passed. He joined her within five minutes 
 after Julia's exit; and though she made the best 
 of the story, he was evidently mortified and dis- 
 pleased in no common degree. At first he scarcely 
 said anything; his looks only expressed his ex- 
 treme surprise and vexation, and he walked to 
 the gate and stood there, without seeming to 
 know what to do. 
 
 ^^They desired me to stay, — my cousin Maria 
 charged me to say that you would find them at 
 that knoll, or thereabouts." 
 
 '^I do not believe I shall go any farther/' 
 said he, sullenly; I see nothing of them. By the 
 time I get to the knoll, the}^ may be gone some- 
 where else. I have had walking enough.'' 
 
 And he sat down with a most gloomy counte- 
 nance by Fanny. 
 
 ^^I am very sorry," said she; ^^it is very un- 
 lucky." And she longed to be able to say some- 
 thing more to the purpose. 
 
 After an interval of silence, ^^I think they 
 might as well have stayed for me," said he. 
 
 ^^Miss Bertram thought you would follow her." 
 
 ^^I should not have had to follow her if she 
 had stayed." 
 
 This could not be denied, and Fanny was si- 
 lenced. After another pause he went on: ^^Pray, 
 Miss Price, are you such a great admirer of 
 this Mr. Crawford as some people are? For my 
 part I can see nothing in him." 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 135 
 
 ^^I do not tliink him at all handsome." 
 
 Handsome! ISTobody can call such an under- 
 sized man handsome. He is not five foot nine. 
 I should not wonder if he was not more than five 
 foot eight. I think he is an ill-looking fellow. 
 In my opinion, these Crawfords are no addition 
 at all. We did very well without them.^' 
 
 A small sigh escaped Fanny here, and she did 
 not know how to contradict him. 
 
 ^^If I had made any difficulty about fetching 
 the key, there might have been some excuse ; but I 
 went the very moment she said she wanted it." 
 
 Nothing could be more obliging than your 
 manner, I am sure, and I dare say you walked as 
 fast as you could; but still it is some distance, 
 you know, from this spot to the house, quite into 
 the house; and when people are waiting they are 
 bad judges of time, and every half-minute seems 
 like five.'^ 
 
 He got up and walked to the gate again, and 
 wished he had had the key about him at the 
 time." Fanny thought she discerned in his 
 standing there an indication of relenting, which 
 encouraged her to another attempt, and she said 
 therefore: It is a pity you should not join them. 
 They expected to have a better view of the house 
 from that part of the park, and will be thinking 
 how it may be improved; and nothing of that sort, 
 you know, can be settled without you." 
 
 She found herself more successful in sending 
 away than in retaining a companion. Mr. Rush- 
 worth was worked on. ^^Well," said he, ^^if 
 you really think I had better go; it would be 
 
136 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 foolish to bring the key for nothing." And let'* 
 ting himself out, he walked off without further 
 ceremony. 
 
 Fanny's thoughts were now all engrossed by the 
 two who had left her so long ago; and getting 
 quite impatient, she resolved to go in search of 
 them. She followed their steps along the bottom 
 walk, and had just turned up into another, when 
 the voice and the laugh of Miss Crawford once 
 more caught her ear; the sound approached, and 
 a few more windings brought them before her. 
 They were just returned into the wilderness from 
 the park, to which a side gate, not fastened, had 
 tempted them very soon after their leaving her, 
 and they had been across a portion of the park into 
 the very avenue which Fanny had been hoping the 
 whole morning to reach at last, and had been 
 sitting down under one of the trees. This was 
 their history. It was evident that they had been 
 spending their time pleasantly, and were not 
 aware of the length of their absence. Fanny's 
 best consolation was in being assured that Edmund 
 had wished for her very much, and that he should 
 certainly have come back for her, had she not been 
 tired already; but this was not quite sufficient to 
 do away the pain of having been left a whole hour, 
 when he had talked of only a few minutes, nor to 
 banish the sort of curiosity she felt, to know what 
 they had been conversing about all that time ; and 
 the result of the whole was to her disappointment 
 and depression, as they prepared, by general agree- 
 ment, to return to the house. 
 
 On reaching the bottom of the steps to the ter- 
 
MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 137 
 
 race, Mrs. Eushworth and Mrs. Norris presented 
 themselves at the top, just ready for the wilder- 
 ness, at the end of an hour and a half from their 
 leaving the house. Mrs. Norris had been too well 
 employed to move faster. Whatever cross acci- 
 dents had occurred to intercept the pleasures of 
 her nieces, she had found a morning of complete 
 enjoyment, — for the housekeeper, after a great 
 many courtesies on the subject of pheasants, had 
 taken her to the dairy, told her all about their 
 cows, and given her the receipt for a famous cream 
 cheese; and since Julia's leaving them, they had 
 been met by the gardener, with whom she had 
 made a most satisfactory acquaintance, for she had 
 set him right as to his grandson's illness, con- 
 vinced him it was an ague, and promised him a 
 charm for it; and he, in return, had showed her 
 all his choicest nursery of plants, and actually 
 presented her with a very curious specimen of 
 heath. 
 
 On this rencontre they all returned to the house 
 together, there to lounge away the time as they 
 could with sofas and chit-chat and Quarterly 
 Reviews, till the return of the others, and the 
 arrival of dinner. It was late before the Miss 
 Bertrams and the two gentlemen came in, and 
 their ramble did not appear to have been more 
 than partially agreeable, or at all productive of 
 anything useful with regard to the object of the 
 day. By their own accounts they had been all 
 walking after each other, and the junction which 
 had taken place at last seemed, to Fanny's obser- 
 vation, to have been as much too late for re* 
 
138 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 establishing harmony as it confessedly had been 
 for determining on any alteration. She felt, as 
 she looked at Julia and Mr. E-ushworth, that hers 
 was not the only dissatisfied bosom amongst them ; 
 there was gloom on the face of each. Mr. Craw- 
 ford and Miss Bertram were much more gay, and 
 she thought that he was taking particular pains, 
 during dinner, to do away any little resentment of 
 the other two, and restore general good-humor. 
 
 Dinner was soon followed by tea and coffee, a 
 ten miles' drive home allowed no waste of hours; 
 and from the time of their sitting down to table, 
 it was a quick succession of bus}^ nothings till the 
 carriage came to the door, and Mrs. Norris, having 
 fidgeted about and obtained a few pheasants' eggs 
 and a cream cheese from the housekeeper, and 
 made abundance of civil speeches to Mrs. Eush- 
 worth, was ready to lead the way. At the same 
 moment Mr. Crawford, approaching Julia, said, 
 ^ ' I hope I am not to lose my companion, unless 
 she is afraid of the evening air in so exposed a 
 seat." The request had not been foreseen, but 
 was very graciously received; and Julia's day was 
 likely to end almost as well as it began. Miss 
 Bertram had made up her mind to something 
 different, and was a little disappointed; but her 
 conviction of being really the one preferred com- 
 forted her under it, and enabled her to receive Mr. 
 Kushworth's parting attentions as she ought. He 
 w^as certainly better pleased to hand her into the 
 barouche than to assist her in ascending the box, 
 — and his complacency seemed confirmed by the 
 arrangement. 
 
MANSEIELD PARK. 
 
 139 
 
 '^Well, Fanny, this has been a fine day for you, 
 upon my word! said Mrs. Norris, as they drove 
 through the park. Nothing but pleasure from 
 beginning to end! I am sure you ought to be 
 very much obliged to your aunt Bertram and me 
 for contriving to let 3^ou go. A pretty good day's 
 amusement you have had! 
 
 Maria was just discontented enough to say 
 directly, ^^I think you have done pretty well your- 
 self, ma'am. Your lap seems full of good things, 
 and here is a basket of something between us, 
 which has been knocking my elbow unmercifully.'' 
 
 ^^My dear, it is only a beautiful little heath, 
 which that nice old gardener would make me take; 
 but if it is in your way, I will have it in my lap 
 directly. There, Fanny, you shall carry that 
 parcel for me, — take great care of it, — do not let 
 it fall; it is a cream cheese, just like the excellent 
 one we had at dinner. Nothing would satisfy that 
 good old Mrs. Whitaker but my taking one of the 
 cheeses. I stood out as long as I could, till the 
 tears almost came into her eyes, and I knew it was 
 just the sort that my sister would be delighted 
 with. That Mrs. Whitaker is a treasure! She 
 was quite shocked when I asked her whether w^ne 
 was allowed at the second table, and she has turned 
 away two housemaids for wearing white gowns. 
 Take care of the cheese, Fanny. Now I can man- 
 age the other parcel and the basket very well." 
 
 ^'What else have you been sponging?" said 
 Maria, half pleased that Sotherton should be so 
 complimented. 
 
 Sponging, my dear! It is nothing but four 
 
140 
 
 MANSFIELD PAEK. 
 
 of those beautiful pheasants' eggs, which Mrs. 
 Whitaker would quite force upon me; she would 
 not take a denial. She said it must be such an 
 amusement to me, as she understood I lived quite 
 alone, to have a few living creatures of that sort; 
 and so, to be sure, it will. I shall get the dairy- 
 maid to set them under the first spare hen, and if 
 they come to good I can have them moved to my 
 own house and borrow a coop; and it will be a 
 great delight to me in my lonely hours to attend 
 to them. And if I have good luck, your mother 
 shall have some.^' 
 
 It was a beautiful evening, mild and still, and 
 the drive was as pleasant as the serenity of nature 
 could make it; but when Mrs. Norris ceased 
 speaking, it was altogether a silent drive to those 
 within. Their spirits were in general exhausted; 
 and to determine whether the day had afforded 
 most pleasure or pain, might occupy the medita- 
 tions of almost all. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 The day at Sotherton, with all its imperfections, 
 afforded the Miss Bertrams much more agreeable 
 feelings than were derived from the letters from 
 Antigua, which soon afterwards reached Mansfield. 
 It was much pleasanter to think of Henry Craw- 
 ford than of their father; and to think of their 
 father in England again within a certain period, 
 which these letters obliged them to do, was a 
 most unwelcome exercise. 
 
 November was the black month fixed for his 
 return. Sir Thomas wrote of it with as much de- 
 cision as experience and anxiety could authorize. 
 His business was so nearly concluded as to justify 
 him in proposing to take his passage in the Sep- 
 tember packet, and he consequently looked for- 
 ward with the hope of being with his beloved 
 family again early in November. 
 
 Maria was more to be pitied than Julia; for to 
 her the father brought a husband, and the return 
 of the friend most solicitous for her happiness 
 would unite her to the lover, on whom she had 
 chosen that happiness should depend. It was a 
 gloomy prospect, and all that she could do was to 
 throw a mist over it, and hope, when the mist 
 cleared away, she should see something else. It 
 would hardly be early in November; there were 
 
142 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 generally delays, a bad passage or somethings — ■ 
 that favoring something which everybody who shuts 
 their eyes while they look, or their understandings 
 while they reason, feels the comfort of. It would 
 probably be the middle of November at least; the 
 middle of November was three months off. Three 
 months comprised thirteen weeks. Much might 
 happen in thirteen weeks. 
 
 Sir Thomas would have been deeply mortified 
 by a suspicion of half that his daughters felt on 
 the subject of his return, and would hardly have 
 found consolation in a know^ledge of the interest it 
 excited in the breast of another young lady. Miss 
 Crawford, on walking up wdth her brother to spend 
 the evening at Mansfield Park, heard the good 
 news; and though seeming to have no concern in 
 the affair beyond politeness, and to have vented all 
 her feelings in a quiet congratulation, heard it 
 with an attention not so easily satisfied. Mrs. 
 Norris gave the particulars of the letters, and 
 the subject was dropped; but after tea, as Miss 
 Crawford w^as standing at an open window with 
 Edmund and Fanny looking out on a tw^ilight 
 scene, while the Miss Bertrams, Mr. Kusliworth, 
 and Henry Crawford were all busy with candles 
 at the pianoforte, she suddenly revived it by turn- 
 ing round towards the group, and saying, ^^How 
 happy Mr. Eush worth looks ! He is thinking of 
 November.'^ 
 
 Edmund looked round at Mr. Eushworth too, 
 but had nothing to say. ^^Your father's return 
 will be a very interesting event.'' 
 
 ^^It will, indeed, after such an absence, — an 
 
MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 143 
 
 absence not only long, but including so many 
 dangers.'' 
 
 ^^It will be the forerunner also of other interest- 
 ing events, — your sister's marriage, and your 
 taking orders." 
 
 ^^Yes.'' 
 
 Don't be affronted,'^ said she, laughing; ^^but 
 it does put me in mind of some of the old heathen 
 heroes, who, after performing great exploits in a 
 foreign land, offered sacrifices to the gods on their 
 safe return." 
 
 There is no sacrifice in the case," replied 
 Edmund, with a serious smile, and glancing at 
 the pianoforte again; ^^it is entirely her own 
 doing." 
 
 ^^Oh, yes, I know it is. I was merely joking. 
 She has done no more than what every young 
 woman would do; and I have no doubt of her be- 
 ing extremely happy. My other sacrifice of course 
 you do not understand." 
 
 ^^My taking orders, I assure you, is quite as 
 voluntary as Maria's marrying." 
 
 ^^It is fortunate that your inclination and your 
 father's convenience should accord so well. There 
 is a very good living kept for you, I understand, 
 hereabouts." 
 
 Which you suppose has biassed me." 
 But that I am sure it has not," cried Fanny. 
 Thank you for your good word, Fanny, but it 
 is more than I would affirm myself. On the con- 
 trary, the knowing that there was such a provision 
 for me probably did bias me. Nor can I think it 
 wrong that it should. There was no natural dis- 
 
144 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 inclination to be overcome, and I see no reason 
 why a man should make a worse clergyman for 
 knowing that he will have a competence early in 
 life. I was in safe hands. I hope I should not 
 have been influenced myself in a wrong way, and 
 I am sure my father was too conscientious to have 
 allowed it. I have no doubt that I was biassed, 
 but I think it was blamelessly.'' 
 
 ^^It is the same sort of thing," said Fanny, 
 after a short pause, ^^as for the son of an admiral 
 to go into the navy, or the son of a general to be 
 in the army, and nobody sees anything wrong in 
 that. Nobody wonders that they should prefer the 
 line where their friends can serve them best, or 
 suspects them to be less in earnest in it than they 
 appear." 
 
 ^^No, my dear Miss Price, and for reasons good. 
 The profession, either navy or army, is its own 
 justification. It has everything in its favor, — 
 heroism, danger, bustle, fashion. Soldiers and sail- 
 ors are always acceptable in society. Nobody can 
 wonder that men are soldiers and sailors." 
 
 ^^But the motives of a man who takes orders 
 with the certainty of preferment may be fairly sus- 
 pected, you think?" said Edmund. ^^Tobe jus- 
 tified in your eyes, he must do it in the most 
 complete uncertainty of any provision.'' 
 
 ^^What! take orders without a living! No; 
 that is madness indeed, absolute madness." 
 
 Shall I ask you how the church is to be filled, 
 if a man is neither to take orders with a living 
 nor without? No, for you certainly would not 
 know what to say. But I must beg some advan- 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 145 
 
 tage to the clergyman from your own argument. 
 As he cannot be influenced by those feelings which 
 you rank highly as temptation and reward to the 
 soldier and sailor in their choice of a profession, as 
 heroism and noise and fashion are all against him, 
 he ought to be less liable to the suspicion of wanting 
 sincerity or good intentions in the choice of his." 
 
 " Oh, no doubt he is very sincere in preferring 
 an income ready made, to the trouble of working 
 for one ; and has the best intentions of doing noth- 
 ing all the rest of his days but eat, drink, and 
 grow fat. It is indolence, Mr. Bertram, indeed, 
 indolence and love of ease, — a want of all laudable 
 ambition, of taste for good company, or of inclina- 
 tion to take the trouble of being agreeable — which 
 make men clergymen. A clergyman has nothing 
 to do but to be slovenly and selfish, — read the 
 newspaper, watch the weather, and quarrel with 
 his wife. His curate does all the work, and the 
 business of his own life is to dine.'' 
 
 There are such clergymen, no doubt; but I 
 think they are not so common as to justify Miss 
 Crawford in esteeming it their general character. 
 I suspect that in this comprehensive and (may I say) 
 commonplace censure you are not judging from 
 yourself, but from prejudiced persons, whose opin- 
 ions you have been in the habit of hearing. It is 
 impossible that your own observation can have 
 given you much knowledge of the clergy. You 
 can have been personally acquainted with very few 
 of a set of men you condemn so conclusively. You 
 are speaking what you have been told at your 
 uncle's table." 
 
 VOL. I. — 10 
 
146 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 ^^I speak what appears to me the general opin- 
 ion; and where an opinion is general, it is usually 
 correct. Though I have not seen much of the 
 domestic lives of clergymen, it is seen by too 
 many to leave any deficiency of information.'' 
 
 Where any one body of educated men, of 
 whatever denomination, are condemned indiscrimi- 
 nately, there must be a deficiency of information, 
 or," smiling, ^^of something else. Your uncle and 
 his brother admirals, perhaps, knew little of clergy- 
 men beyond the chaplains, whom, good or bad, 
 they were always wishing away." 
 
 Poor William! He has met with great kind- 
 ness from the chaplain of the Antwerp," was a 
 tender apostrophe of Fanny's, very much to the 
 purpose of her own feelings, if not of the 
 conversation. 
 
 ^^I have been so little addicted to take my 
 opinions from my uncle," said Miss Crawford, 
 * ' that I can hardly suppose ; and since you push 
 me so hard, I must observe that I am not en- 
 tirely without the means of seeing what clergy- 
 men are, being at this present time the guest of my 
 own brother, Dr. Grant. And though Dr. Grant 
 is most kind and obliging to me, and though he is 
 really a gentleman, and I dare say a good scholar 
 and clever, and often preaches good sermons, and 
 is very respectable, / see him to be an indolent, 
 selfish bon vivaiif, who must have his palate con- 
 sulted in everything, who will not stir a finger 
 for the convenience of any one, and who, more- 
 over, if the cook makes a blunder is out of humor 
 with his excellent wife. To own the truth; Henry 
 
MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 147 
 
 and I were partly driven out this very evening by 
 a disappointment about a green goose, which he 
 could not get the better of. My poor sister was 
 forced to stay and bear it.'' 
 
 ^^I do not wonder at your disapprobation, upon 
 my word. It is a great defect of temper, made 
 worse by a very faulty habit of self-indulgence; 
 and to see your sister suffering from it must be 
 exceedingly painful to such feelings as yours. 
 Fanny, it goes against us. We cannot attempt 
 to defend Dr. Grant.'' 
 
 ^^No," replied Fanny, but we need not give 
 up his profession for all that; because, whatever 
 profession Dr. Grant had chosen, he would have 
 taken a — not a good temper into it ; and as he 
 must either in the navy or army have had a great 
 many more people under his command than he 
 has now, I think more would have been made un- 
 happy by him as a sailor or soldier than as a 
 clergyman. Besides, I cannot but suppose that 
 whatever there may be to wish otherwise in Dr. 
 Grant, would have been in a greater danger of 
 becoming worse in a more active and worldly pro- 
 fession, where he would have had less time and 
 obligation, — where he might have escaped that 
 knowledge of himself, the frequency, at least, of that 
 knowledge which it is impossible he should escape 
 as he is now. A man, a sensible man like Dr. 
 Grant, cannot be in the habit of teaching others 
 their duty every week, cannot go to church twice 
 every Sunday, and preach such verj^ good sermons 
 in so good a manner as he does, without being the 
 better for it himself. It must make him think; 
 
148 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 and I have no doubt that he oftener endeavors to 
 restrain himself than he would if he had been 
 anything but a clergyman/^ 
 
 *^We cannot prove the contrary, to be sure, — 
 but I wish you a better fate, Miss Price, than to 
 be the wife of a man whose amiableness depends 
 upon his own sermons ; for though he may preach 
 himself into a good humor every Sunday, it will 
 be bad enough to have him quarrelling about 
 green geese from Monday morning till Saturday 
 night. 
 
 ^^I think the man who could often quarrel with 
 Fanny," said Edmund, affectionately, ^^must be 
 beyond the reach of any sermons.'^ 
 
 Fanny turned farther into the window; and 
 Miss Crawford had only time to say, in a pleasant 
 manner, ^^I fancy Miss Price has been more used 
 to deserve praise than to hear it; when being 
 earnestly invited by the Miss Bertrams to join in 
 a glee, she tripped off to the instrument, leaving 
 Edmund looking after her in an ecstasy of admira- 
 tion of all her many virtues, from her obliging 
 manners down to her light and graceful tread. 
 
 There goes good humor, I am sure," said he 
 presently; there goes a temper which would 
 never give pain! How well she walks; and how 
 readily she falls in with the inclination of others, 
 joining them the moment she is asked! What a 
 pity,'' he added, after an instant^s reflection, ^^that 
 zhe should have been in such hands! " 
 
 Eanny agreed to it, and had the pleasure of 
 seeing him continue at the window with her, in 
 spite oi the expected glee; and of having his eyes 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 149 
 
 soon turned, like liers, towards the scene without, 
 where all that was solemn and soothing and 
 lovely appeared in the brilliancy of an unclouded 
 night, and the contrast of the deep shade of the 
 woods. Fanny spoke her feelings. Here's 
 harmony!'^ said she; here's repose! Here's 
 what may leave all painting and all music behind, 
 and what poetry only can attempt to describe! 
 Here 's what may tranquillize every care, and lift 
 the heart to rapture! When I look out on such 
 a night as this, I feel as if there could be neither 
 wickedness nor sorrow in the world; and there 
 certainly would be less of both if the sublimity of 
 nature were more attended to, and people were 
 carried more out of themselves by contemplating 
 such a scene. '^ 
 
 ^^I like to hear your enthusiasm, Fanny. It 
 is a lovely night, and they are much to be pitied 
 who have not been taught to feel in some degree 
 as you do, — who have not at least been given a 
 taste for nature in early life. They lose a great 
 deal.'^ 
 
 You taught me to think and feel on the sub- 
 ject, cousin." 
 
 ^^I had a very apt scholar. There's Arcturus, 
 looking very bright." 
 
 ^^Yes, and the Bear. I wish I could see 
 Cassiopeia." 
 
 We must go out on the lawn for that. Should 
 you be afraid? " 
 
 ^^IsTot in the least. It is a great while since we 
 have had any star-gazing." 
 
 ^^Yes, I do not know how it has happened.'' 
 
150 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK 
 
 The glee began. We will stay till this is fin- 
 ished, Fanny, said he, turning his back on the 
 window; and as it advanced, she had the mortifi- 
 cation of seeing him advance too, moving forward 
 by gentle degrees towards the instrument, and 
 when it ceased, he was close by the singers, among 
 the most urgent in requesting to hear the glee 
 again. 
 
 Fanny sighed alone at the window till scolded 
 away by Mrs. Norris's threats of catching cold. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Sir Thomas was to return in November, and his 
 eldest son had duties to call him earlier home. 
 The approach of September brought tidings of 
 Mr. Bertram, first in a letter to the gamekeeper, 
 and then in a letter to Edmund; and by the end 
 of August he arrived himself, to be gay, agree- 
 able, and gallant again as occasion served or Miss 
 Crawford demanded, — to tell of races and Wey- 
 mouth and parties and friends, to which she 
 might have listened six weeks before with some 
 interest, and altogether to give her the fullest 
 conviction, by the power of actual comparison, of 
 her preferring his younger brother. 
 
 It was very vexatious, and she was heartily 
 sorry for it, but so it was; and so far from now 
 meaning to marry the elder, she did not even want 
 to attract him beyond what the simplest claims of 
 conscious beauty required. His lengthened absence 
 from Mansfield, without anything but pleasure in 
 view, and his own will to consult, made it per- 
 fectly clear that he did not care about her; and 
 his indifference was so much more than equalled 
 by her own, that were he now to step forth the 
 owner of Mansfield Park, the Sir Thomas complete, 
 which he was to be in time, she did not believe 
 she could accept him. 
 
152 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 The season and duties which brought Mr. Ber- 
 tram back to Mansfield took Mr. Crawford into 
 Norfolk. Everingham could not do without him 
 in the beginning of September. He went for a 
 fortnight, — a fortnight of such dulness to the 
 Miss Bertrams as ought to have put them both on 
 their guard, and made even Julia admit, in her 
 jealousy of her sister, the absolute necessity of 
 distrusting his attentions, and wishing him not 
 to return; and a fortnight of sufficient leisure, in 
 the intervals of shooting and sleeping, to have 
 convinced the gentleman that he ought to keep 
 longer away, had he been more in the habit of 
 examiaing his own motives, and of reflecting to 
 what the indulgence of his idle vanity was tend- 
 ing; but, thoughtless and selfish from prosperity 
 and bad example, he would not look beymid the 
 present moment. The sisters, handsome, clever, 
 and encouraging, were an amusement to his sated 
 mind; and finding nothing in Norfolk to equal 
 the social pleasures of Mansfield, he gladly re 
 turned to it at the time appointed, and was wel- 
 comed thither quite as gladly by those whom he 
 came to trifle with further. 
 
 Maria, with only Mr. Eush worth to attend to 
 her, and doomed to the repeated details of his 
 day's sport, good or bad, his boast of his dogs, his 
 jealousy of his neighbors, his doubts of their quali- 
 fication, and his zeal after poachers, — subjects 
 which will not find their way to female feelings 
 without some talent on one side or some attach- 
 ment on the other, — had missed Mr. Crawford 
 grievously; and Julia, unengaged and unemployed^ 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 153 
 
 felt all the right of missing him much more. 
 Each sister believed herself the favorite. Julia 
 might be justified in so doing by the hints of 
 Mrs. Grant, inclined to credit what she wished; 
 and Maria by the hints of Mr. Crawford himself. 
 Everything returned into the same channel as 
 before his absence; his manners being to each so 
 animated and agreeable as to lose no ground with 
 either, and just stopping short of the consistence, 
 the steadiness, the solicitude, and the warmth 
 which might excite general notice. 
 
 Eanny was the only one of the party who found 
 anything to dislike; but since the day at Sother- 
 ton, she could never see Mr. Crawford with either 
 sister without observation, and seldom without 
 wonder or censure; and had her confidence in her 
 own judgment been equal to her exercise of it in 
 every other respect, had she been sure that she 
 was seeing clearly and judging candidl}^, she 
 would probably have made some important com- 
 munications to her usual confidant. As it was, 
 however, she only hazarded a hint, and the hint 
 was lost. ^^I am rather surprised," said she, 
 ^^that Mr. Crawford should come back again so 
 soon, after being here so long before, full seven 
 weeks; for I had understood he was so very fond 
 of change and moving about, that I thought some- 
 thing would certainly occur when he was once 
 gone, to take him elsewhere. He is used to much 
 gayer places than Mansfield." 
 
 ^^It is to his credit,'^ was Edmund's answer, 
 *^and I dare say it gives his sister pleasure. She 
 does not like his unsettled habits.'^ 
 
154 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 What a favorite lie is with my cousins! 
 
 Yes, his manners to women are such as must 
 please. Mrs. Grant, I believe, suspects him of a 
 preference for Julia; I have never seen much 
 symptom of it, but I wish it may be so. He has 
 no faults but what a serious attachment would 
 remove.'' 
 
 ^^If Miss Bertram were not engaged," said 
 Fanny, cautiously, " I could sometimes almost 
 think that he admired her more than Julia. 
 
 " Which is, perhaps, more in favor of his liking 
 Julia best, than you, Fanny, may be aware; for I 
 believe it often happens that a man, before he has 
 quite made up his own mind, will distinguish the 
 sister or intimate friend of the woman he is really 
 thinking of, more than the woman herself. Craw- 
 ford has too much sense to stay here if he found 
 himself i'n any danger from Maria; and I am not 
 at all afraid for her, after such a proof as she has 
 given, that her feelings are not strong.'' 
 
 Fanny supposed she must have been mistaken, 
 and meant to think differently in future; but 
 with all that submission to Edmund could do, and 
 all the help of the coinciding looks and hints 
 which she occasionally noticed in some of the 
 others, and which seemed to say that Julia was 
 Mr. Crawford's choice, she knew not always what 
 to think. She was privy, one evening, to the 
 hopes of her aunt Norris on this subject, as well 
 as to her feelings, and the feelings of Mrs. Eush- 
 worth, on a point of some similarity, and could 
 not help wondering as she listened; and glad 
 would she have been not to be obliged to listen, 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 155 
 
 for it was while all the other young people were 
 dancing, and she sitting, most unwillingly, among 
 the chaperons at the fire, longing for the re-en- 
 trance of her elder cousin, on whom all her own 
 hopes of a partner then depended. It was Fanny's 
 first ball, though without the preparation or splen- 
 dor of many a young lady's first ball, being the 
 thought only of the afternoon, built on the late 
 acquisition of a violin-player in the servants' hall, 
 and the possibility of raising five couple with the 
 help of Mrs. Grant and a new intimate friend of Mr. 
 Bertram's just arrived on a visit. It had, how- 
 ever, been a very happy one to Fanny through four 
 dances, and she was quite grieved to be losing even 
 a quarter of an hour. While waiting and wishing, 
 looking now at the dancers and now at the door, 
 this dialogue between the two above-mentioned 
 ladies was forced on her : — 
 
 ^^I think, ma'am," said Mrs. ^^orris, her eyes 
 directed towards Mr. Eushworth and Maria, who 
 were partners for the second time, we shall see 
 some happy faces again now." 
 
 ^^Yes, ma'am, indeed," replied the other, with 
 a stately simper, ^Hhere will be some satisfaction 
 in looking on now, and I think it was rather a pity 
 they should have been obliged to part. Young 
 folks in their situation should be excused comply- 
 ing with the common forms. I wonder my son 
 did not propose it." 
 
 '^I dare say he did, ma'am. Mr. Eushworth is 
 never remiss. But dear Maria has such a strict 
 sense of propriety, so much of that true delicacy 
 which one seldom meets with nowadays, Mrs, 
 
156 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 Eush worth, that wish of avoiding particularity! 
 Dear ma'am, only look at her face at this mo- 
 ment, — how different from what it was the two 
 last dances! 
 
 Miss Bertram did indeed look happy, her eyes 
 were sparkling with pleasure, and she was speak- 
 ing with great animation; for Julia and her part- 
 ner, Mr. Crawford, were close to her: they were 
 all in a cluster together. How she had looked be- 
 fore, Fanny could not recollect; for she had been 
 dancing with Edmund herself, and had not thought 
 about her. 
 
 Mrs. Norris continued: ^^It is quite delightful, 
 ma'am, to see young people so properly happy, so 
 well suited, and so much the thing! I cannot but 
 think of dear Sir Thomas's delight. And what 
 do you say, ma'am, to the chance of another 
 match? Mr. Eush worth has set a good example, 
 and such things are very catching." 
 
 Mrs. Eush worth, who saw nothing but her son, 
 was quite at a loss. ^^The couple above, ma^am. 
 Do you see no symptoms there? " 
 
 ^^Oh dear, — Miss Julia and Mr. Crawford. 
 Yes, indeed, a very pretty match. What is his 
 property? " 
 
 ^' Four thousand a year." 
 Very well. Those who have not more, must 
 be satisfied with w^hat they have. Four thousand 
 a year is a pretty estate, and he seems a very gen- 
 teel, steady young man; so I hope Miss Julia will 
 be very happy." 
 
 ^'It is not a settled thing, ma'am, yet. 
 only speak of it among friends. But I have very 
 
I^IANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 157 
 
 little doubt it will be. He is growing extremely 
 particular in his attentions/^ 
 
 Fanny could listen no further. Listening and 
 wondering were all suspended for a time, for Mr. 
 Bertram was in the room again; and though feel- 
 ing it would be a great honor to be asked by him, 
 she thought it must happen. He came towards 
 their little circle; but instead of asking her to 
 dance, drew a chair near her, and gave her an ac- 
 count of the present state of a sick horse, and the 
 opinion of the groom, from whom he had just 
 parted. Fanny found that it was not to be, and 
 in the modesty of her nature immediately felt that 
 she had been unreasonable in expecting it. When 
 he had told of his horse, he took a newspaper from 
 the table, and looking over it said in a languid 
 v/ay, ' ' If you want to dance, Fanny, I will stand 
 up with you." With more than equal civility the 
 offer was declined; she did not wish to dance. ^^I 
 am glad of it,'' said he, in a much brisker tone, 
 and throwing down the newspaper again, '^for I 
 am tired to death. I only wonder how the good 
 people can keep it up so long. They had need be 
 all in love, to find any amusement in such folly, — 
 and so they are, I fancy. If you look at them you 
 may see they are so many couple of lovers, — all 
 but Yates and Mrs. Grant, — and between our- 
 selves, she, poor woman, must want a lover as 
 much as any one of them. A desperate dull life 
 hers must be with the doctor," making a sly face 
 as he spoke towards the chair of the latter, who 
 proving, however, to be close at his elbow, made 
 60 instantaneous a change of expression and sub- 
 
158 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 ject necessary, as Eanny, in spite of everything, 
 could hardly help laughing at. A strange busi- 
 ness this in America, Dr. Grant ! What is your 
 opinion ? I always come to you to know w^hat I 
 am to think of public matters." 
 
 ^^My dear Tom, cried his aunt, soon after- 
 wards, ^^as you are not dancing, I dare say you 
 will have no objection to join us in a rubber; 
 shall you? then, leaving her seat, and coming 
 to him to enforce the proposal, added in a whisper: 
 
 We want to make a table for Mrs. Eushworth, 
 you know. Your mother is quite anxious about 
 it, but cannot very well spare time to sit down 
 herself, because of her fringe. Now, you and I 
 and Dr. Grant will just do; and though we play 
 but half-crowns, you know you may bet half- 
 guineas with him.'' 
 
 ^^I should be most happy,'' replied he, aloud, 
 and jumping up with alacrity, " it would give me 
 the greatest pleasure, but that I am this moment 
 going to dance. Come, Fanny," taking her hand, 
 ^^0 not be dawdling any longer, or the dance 
 will be over." 
 
 Fanny was led off very willingly, though it was 
 impossible for her to feel much gratitude tow^ards 
 her cousin, or distinguish, as he certainly did, 
 between the selfishness of another person and 
 his own. 
 
 ^^A pretty modest request, upon my word!" he 
 indignantly exclaimed as they walked away. " To 
 want to nail me to a card-table for the next two 
 hours with herself and Dr. Grant, who are always 
 quarrelling, and that poking old woman^ who 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 159 
 
 knows no more of whist than of algebra. I wish 
 mj good aunt would be a little less busy ! And to 
 ask me in such a way too! without ceremony, be- 
 fore them all, so as to leave me no possibility of 
 refusing! That is what I dislike most particu- 
 larly. It raises my spleen more than anything, 
 to have the pretence of being asked, of being given 
 a choice, and at the same time addressed in such a 
 way as to oblige one to do the very thing, — what- 
 ever it be ! If I had not luckily thought of stand- 
 ing up with you, I could not have got out of it. It 
 is a great deal too bad. But when my aunt has 
 got a fancy in her head, nothing can stop her.^' 
 
CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 The Honorable John Yates, this new friend, had 
 not much to recommend him bej^ond habits of 
 fashion and expense, and being the younger son 
 of a lord with a tolerable independence; and Sir 
 Thomas would probably have thought his introduc- 
 tion at Mansfield by no - means desirable. Mr. 
 Bertram's acquaintance with him had begun at 
 Weymouth, where they had spent ten days to- 
 gether in the same society; and the friendship, if 
 friendship it might be called, had been proved and 
 perfected by Mr. Yates's being invited to take 
 Mansfield in his way, whenever he could, and by 
 his promising to come; and he did come rather 
 earlier than had been expected, in consequence of 
 the sudden breaking up of a large party assembled 
 for gayety at the house of another friend, which he 
 had left Weymouth to join. He came on the wings 
 of disappointment, and with his head full of act- 
 ing, for it had been a theatrical party; and the 
 play in which he had borne a part was within two 
 days of representation, when the sudden death of 
 one of the nearest connections of the family had 
 destroyed the scheme and dispersed the performers. 
 To be so near happiness, so near fame, so near the 
 long paragraph in praise of the private theatricals 
 at Ecclesford, tho seat of the Eight Hon. Lord 
 
MANSFIELD PARK, 
 
 161 
 
 Kavenshaw, in Cornwall, wliicli would of course have 
 immortalized the whole party for at least a twelve- 
 month! and being so near, to lose it all, was an 
 injury to be keenly felt, and Mr. Yates could talk 
 of nothing else. Ecclesford and its theatre, with 
 its arrangements and dresses, rehearsals and jokes, 
 was his never-failing subject, and to boast of the 
 past his only consolation. 
 
 Happily for him, a love of the theatre is so gen- 
 eral, an itch for acting so strong among young 
 people, that he could hardly out-talk the interest 
 of his hearers. From the first casting of the parts 
 to the epilogue, it was all bewitching, and there 
 were few who did not wish to have been a party 
 concerned, or would have hesitated to try their 
 skill. The play had been Lovers' Vows," and 
 Mr. Yates was to have been Count Cassel. ^'A 
 trifling part," said he, ^^and not at all to my 
 taste, and such a one as I certainly would not 
 accept again; but I was determined to make no 
 difficulties. Lord Eavenshaw and the duke had 
 appropriated the only two characters worth playing 
 before I reached Ecclesford; and though Lord Ea- 
 venshaw offered to resign his to me, it was impos- 
 sible to take it, you know. I was sorry for him 
 that he should have so mistaken his powers, for he 
 was no more equal to the Baron, — a little man, 
 with a weak voice, always hoarse after the first ten 
 minutes. It must have injured the piece materi- 
 ally; but I was resolved to make no difficulties. 
 Sir Henry thought the duke not equal to Fred- 
 erick, but that was because Sir Henry wanted the 
 part himself; whereas it was certainly in the best 
 
 VOL. I. — 11 
 
162 
 
 MANSFIELD TARK. 
 
 hands of the two. I was surprised to see Sir 
 Henry such a stick. Luckily the strength of the 
 piece did not depend upon him. Our Agatha was 
 inimitable, and the duke was thought very great 
 by many. And upon the whole it would certainly 
 have gone off wonderfully.'^ 
 
 It was a hard case, upon my word/' and, I do 
 think you were very much to be pitied/' w^ere the 
 kind responses of listening sympathy. 
 
 ^^It is not worth complaining about, but to be 
 sure the poor old dowager could not have died at a 
 worse time; and it is impossible to help wishing 
 that the news could have been suppressed for just 
 the three days we wanted. It was but three cla^^s ; 
 and being only a grandmother, and all happening 
 two hundred miles off, I think there would have 
 been no great harm, and it was suggested, I know; 
 but Lord E-avenshaw, who I suppose is one of 
 the most correct men in England, would not hear 
 of it." 
 
 An after-piece instead of a comedy," said Mr. 
 Bertram. " ^Lovers' Vow^s ' were at an end, and 
 Lord and Lady Eavenshaw left to act my Grand- 
 mother by themselves. Well, the jointure may 
 comfort him; and perhaps, between friends, he 
 began to tremble for his credit and his lungs in 
 the Baron, and was not sorry to withdraw; and to 
 make you amends, Yates, I think we must raise a 
 little theatre at Mansfield, and ask you to be our 
 manager. ' ' 
 
 This, though the thought of the moment, did 
 not end with the moment; for the inclination to 
 act was awakened, and in no one more strongly than 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 163 
 
 in him who was now master of the house^ and who, 
 having so much leisure as to make almost any 
 novelty a certain good, had likewise such a degree 
 of lively talents and comic taste as were exactly 
 adapted to the novelty of acting. The thought re- 
 turned again and again. Oh for the Ecclesford 
 theatre and scenery to try something with! Each 
 sister could echo the wish; and Henry Crawford, 
 to whom, in all the riot of his gratifications, it was 
 yet an untasted pleasure, was quite alive at the 
 idea. ^^I really believe,'^ said he, ^^I could be 
 fool enough at this moment to undertake any char- 
 acter that ever was written, from Shylock or 
 Eichard III. down to the singing hero of a farce 
 in his scarlet coat and cocked hat. I feel as if I 
 could be anything or everything, as if I could rant 
 and storm, or sigh, or cut capers in any tragedy 
 or comedy in the English language. Let us be 
 doing something. Be it only half a play, — an 
 act, a scene; what should prevent us? E"ot these 
 countenances,, I am sure, ^' looking towards the 
 Miss Bertrams; ^^and for a theatre, what signifies 
 a theatre? "We shall be only amusing ourselves. 
 Any room in this house might suffice.'^ 
 
 We must have a curtain,^' said Tom Bertram, 
 
 a few yards of green baize for a curtain, and per- 
 haps that may be enough. 
 
 ^^Oh, quite enough,'^ cried Mr. Yates, ^^with 
 only just a side wing or two run up, doors in flat, 
 and three or four scenes to be let down; nothing 
 more would be necessary on such a plan as this. 
 For mere amusement among ourselves^ we should 
 want nothing more.'' 
 
164 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 ^^I believe we must be satisfied with less," said 
 Maria. " There would not be time, and other dif- 
 ficulties would arise. We must rather adopt Mr. 
 Crawford^ s views, and make the performance, not 
 the theatre, our object. Many parts of our best 
 plays are independent of scenery.'^ 
 
 ^^Nay, " said Edmund, who began to listen with 
 alarm. ^^Let us do nothing by halves. If we are 
 to act, let it be in a theatre completely fitted up 
 with pit, box, and gallery, and let us have a play 
 entire from beginning to end; so as it be a German 
 play, no matter what, with a good tricking, shift- 
 ing after-piece, and a figure-dance, and a hornpipe, 
 and a song between the acts. If we do not outdo 
 Ecclesford, we do nothing." 
 
 ^^Now, Edmund, do not be disagreeable," said 
 Julia. Nobody loves a play better than you do, 
 or can have gone much farther to see one." 
 
 ^^True, to see real acting, good hardened real 
 acting; but I would hardly walk from this room to 
 the next to look at the raw efforts of those w^lio 
 have not been bred to the trade, — a set of gentle- 
 men and ladies, who have all the disadvantages of 
 education and decorum to struggle through." 
 
 After a short pause, however, the subject still 
 continued, and was discussed with unabated eager- 
 ness, every one's inclination increasing by the dis- 
 cussion, and a knowledge of the inclination of the 
 rest; and though nothing was settled but that Tom 
 Bertram would prefer a comedy, and his sisters 
 and Henry Crawford a tragedy, and that nothing 
 in the world could be easier than to find a piece 
 which would please them all, the resolution to act 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 165 
 
 something or other seemed so decided as to mal^e 
 Edmund quite uncomfortable. He was determined 
 to prevent it, if possible, though his mother, who 
 equally heard the conversation which passed at 
 table, did not evince the least disapprobation. 
 
 The same evening afforded him an opportunity 
 of trying his strength. Maria, Julia, Henry Craw- 
 ford, and Mr. Yates were in the billiard-room. 
 Tom, returning from them into the drawing-room, 
 where Edmund was standing thoughtfully by the 
 fire, while Lady Bertram was on the sofa at a little 
 distance, and Fanny close beside her arranging her 
 work, thus began as he entered, — 
 
 " Such a horribly vile billiard-table as ours is 
 not to be met with, I believe, above ground! I 
 can stand it no longer, and I think I may say that 
 nothing shall ever tempt me to it again; but one 
 good thing I have just ascertained, — it is the very 
 room for a theatre, precisely the shape and length 
 for it; and the doors at the farther end, communis 
 eating with each other, as they may be made to do 
 in five minutes, by merely moving the bookcase 
 in my father's room, is the very thing we could 
 have desired, if we had set down to wish for it. 
 And my father's room will be an excellent green- 
 room. It seems to join the billiard-room on 
 purpose." 
 
 ^^You are not serious, Tom, in meaning to 
 act? said Edmund, in a low voice, as his brother 
 approached the fire. 
 
 ^^Not serious! Never more so, I assure you. 
 What is there to surprise you in it?'' 
 
 ^^I think it v>^ould be very wrong. In a gen- 
 
166 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 eral liglit, private theatricals are open to some 
 objections; but as we are circumstanced, I must 
 think it would be highly injudicious, and more 
 than injudicious, to attempt anything of the kind. 
 It would show great want of feeling on my father's 
 account, absent as he is, and in some degree of 
 constant danger; and it would be imprudent, I 
 think, with regard to Maria, whose situation is 
 a very delicate one, considering everything, ex- 
 tremely delicate." 
 
 ^*'You take up a thing so seriously! as if we 
 were going to act three times a week till my 
 father's return, and invite all the countr3^ But 
 it is not to be a display of that sort. We mean 
 nothing but a little amusement among ourselves, 
 just to vary the scene, and exercise our powers 
 in something new. We want no audience, no 
 publicity. We may be trusted, I think, in choos- 
 ing some play most perfectly unexceptionable; 
 and I can conceive no greater harm or danger 
 to any of us in conversing in the elegant language 
 of some respectable author than in chattering in 
 words of our own. I have no fears and no scru- 
 ples. And as to my father's being absent, it is 
 so far from an objection that I consider it rather 
 as a motive; for the expectation of his return 
 must be a very anxious period to my mother; and 
 if we can be the means of amusing that anxiety, 
 and keeping up her spirits for the next few weeks, 
 I shall think our time very well spent, and so 
 I am sure will he. It is a very anxious period 
 for her.'^ 
 
 As he said this, each looked towards their 
 
MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 167 
 
 mother. Lady Bertram, sunk back in one corner 
 of tlie sofa, — tlie picture of health, wealth, ease, 
 and tranquillity, — was just falling into a gentle 
 dose; while Fanny was getting through the few 
 difficulties of her work for her. 
 
 Edmund smiled, and shook his head. 
 
 ^^By Jove! this won't do," cried Tom, throw- 
 ing himself into a chair with a hearty laugh. 
 ^^To be sure, my dear mother, your anxiety, — I 
 was unlucky there." 
 
 ^^What is the matter? " asked her Ladyship, 
 in the heavy tone of one half roused : ^ ^ I was 
 not asleep.'' 
 
 ^^Oh dear, no, ma'am, — nobody suspected you. 
 — AYell, Edmund," he continued, returning to 
 the former subject, posture, and voice, as soon as 
 Lady Bertram began to nod again, ^^but this 
 I will maintain, — that we shall be doing no 
 harm." 
 
 ^^I cannot agree with you, — I am convinced 
 that my father would totally disapprove it." 
 
 And I am convinced to the contrary. Nobody 
 is fonder of the exercise of talent in young people, 
 or promotes it more, than my father; and for 
 anything of the acting, spouting, reciting kind, 
 I think he has always a decided taste. I am sure 
 he encouraged it in us as boys. How many a 
 time have we mourned over the dead body of 
 Julius C^esar, and to be'd and not to be'd in this 
 very room for his amusement! And I am sure, 
 my name was Norval every evening of my life 
 through one Christmas holidays." 
 
 ^' It was a very different thing. You must 
 
168 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 see the difference yourself. My father wished 
 us, as schoolboys, to speak well, but he would 
 never wish his grown-up daughters to be acting 
 plays. His sense of decorum is strict,'' 
 
 ^^I know all that,'' said Tom, displeased. ^^I 
 know my father as well as you do; and I '11 take 
 care that his daughters do nothing to distress 
 him. Manage your own concerns, Edmund, and 
 I'll take care of the rest of the family." 
 
 ^^If you are resolved on acting," replied the 
 persevering Edmund, '^1 must hope it will be 
 in a very small and quiet way, and I think a 
 theatre ought not to be attempted. It would be 
 taking liberties with my father's house in his 
 absence which could not be justified." 
 
 ^^Eor everything of that nature I will be an- 
 swerable, " said Tom, in a decided tone. ^*His 
 house shall not be hurt. I have quite as great an in- 
 terest in being careful of his house as you can 
 have; and as to such alterations as I was suggest- 
 ing just now, such as moving a bookcase, or un- 
 locking a door, or even as using the billiard-room 
 for the space of a week without playing at billiards 
 in it, you might just as well suppose he would 
 object to our sitting more in this room and less 
 in the breakfast-room than we did before he went 
 away, or to my sister's pianoforte being moved from 
 one side of the room to the other. Absolute 
 nonsense ! " 
 
 " The innovation, if not wrong as an innovation, 
 will be wrong as an expense." 
 
 Yes, the expense of such an undertaking would 
 be prodigious! Perhaps it might cost a whole 
 
MANSllELD PARK. 
 
 169 
 
 twenty pounds. Something of a theatre we must 
 have undoubtedly, but it will be on the sim]3lest 
 plan, — a green curtain and a little carpenter's work, 
 and that's all; and as the carpenter's work may 
 be all done at home by Christopher Jackson him- 
 self, it will be too absurd to talk of expense; and 
 as long as Jackson is employed, everything will be 
 right with Sir Thomas. Don't imagine that no- 
 body in this house can see or judge but yourself. 
 Don't act yourself, if you do not like it; but don't 
 expect to govern everybody else." 
 
 No, as to acting myself," said Edmund, " that 
 I absolutely protest against." 
 
 Tom walked out of the room as he said it, and 
 Edmund was left to sit down and stir the fire in 
 thoughtful vexation. 
 
 Eanny, w^ho had heard it all, and borne Edmund 
 company in every feeling throughout the whole, 
 now ventured to say, in her anxiety to suggest 
 some comfort : ' * Perhaps they may not be able to 
 find any play to suit them. Your brother's taste 
 and your sisters' seem very different." 
 
 ^^T have no hope there, Eanny. If they persist 
 in the scheme, they will find something. I shall 
 speak to my sisters, and try to dissuade them; and 
 that is all I can do." 
 
 ' ' I should think my aunt ^^orris would be on 
 your side." 
 
 " I dare say she would, but she has no influence 
 with either Tom or my sisters that could be of any 
 use ; and if I cannot convince them myself, I shall 
 let things take their course, without attempting it 
 through her. Eamily squabbling is the greatest 
 
170 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 evil of all, and we had better do anything than be 
 altogether by the ears.'^ 
 
 His sisters, to whom he had an opportunity of 
 speaking the next morning, were quite as impa- 
 tient of his advice, quite as unyielding to his rep- 
 resentation, quite as determined in the cause of 
 pleasure, as Tom. Their mother had no objection 
 to the plan, and they were not in the least afraid 
 of their father's disapprobation. There could be 
 no harm in what had been done in so many respect- 
 able families, and by so many women of the first 
 consideration; and it must be scrupulousness run 
 mad, that could see anything to censure in a plan 
 like theirs, comprehending only brothers and sis- 
 ters, and intimate friends, and which would never 
 be heard of beyond themselves. Julia did seem 
 inclined to admit that Maria's situation might re- 
 quire particular caution and delicacy, but that 
 could not extend to her, — she was at liberty; and 
 Maria evidently considered her engagement as only 
 raising her so much more above restraint, and 
 leaving her less occasion than Julia to consult 
 either father or mother. Edmund had little to 
 hope; but he was still urging the subject, when 
 Henry Crawford entered the room, fresh from the 
 Parsonage, calling out: ^^No want of hands in our 
 theatre, Miss Bertram. No want of under-strap- 
 pers; my sister desires her love, and hopes to be 
 admitted into the company, and will be happy to 
 take the part of any old duenna or tame confidant 
 that you may not like to do yourselves." 
 
 Maria gave Edmund a glance, which meant: 
 <^ What say you now? Can we be wrong if Mary 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 171 
 
 Crawford feels the same? And Edmund, silenced, 
 was obliged to acknowledge that the charm of act- 
 ing might well carry fascination to the mind of 
 genius; and with the ingenuity of love, to dwell 
 more on the obliging, accommodating purport of 
 the message than on anything else. 
 
 The scheme advanced. Opposition was vain; 
 and as to Mrs. Norris, he was mistaken in suppos- 
 ing she would wish to make any. She started no 
 difficulties that were not talked down in five min- 
 utes by her eldest nephew and niece, who were all 
 powerful with her; and as the whole arrangement 
 was to bring very little expense to anybody, and 
 none at all to herself, as she foresaw in it all the 
 comforts of hurry, bustle, and importance, and 
 derived the immediate advantage of fancying her- 
 self obliged to leave her own house, where she had 
 been living a month at her own cost, and take up 
 her abode in theirs, that every hour might be spent 
 in their service, she was, in fact; exceedingly 
 delighted with the project. 
 
CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 Fanny seemed nearer being right than Edmund 
 had supposed. The business of finding a play that 
 would suit everybody proved to be no trifle; and 
 the carpenter had received his orders and taken his 
 measurements, had suggested and removed at least 
 two sets of difficulties, and having made the neces- 
 sity of an enlargement of plan and expense fully 
 evident, was already at work, while a play was 
 still to seek. Other preparations were also in 
 hand. An enormous roll of green baize had ar- 
 rived from Northampton, and been cut out by Mrs. 
 Norris (with a saving, by her good management, 
 of full three quarters of a yard), and was actually 
 forming into a curtain by the housemaids, and still 
 the play was wanting; and as two or three days 
 passed away in this manner, Edmund began almost 
 to hope that none might ever be found. 
 
 There were, in fact, so many things to be at- 
 tended to, so many people to be pleased, so many 
 best characters required, and above all, such a need 
 that the play should be at once both tragedy and 
 comedy, that there did seem as little chance of a 
 decision as anything pursued by youth and zeal 
 could hold out. 
 
 On the tragic side were the Miss Bertrams, 
 Henry Crawford, and Mr. Yates; on the comic, 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 173 
 
 Tom Bertram, not quite alone, because it was evi- 
 dent that Mary Crawford's Avislies, though politely 
 kept back, inclined the same way : but his determi- 
 nateness and his power seemed to make allies 
 unnecessary; and independent of this great, irre- 
 concilable difference, they wanted a piece contain- 
 ing very few characters in the whole, but every 
 character first-rate, and three principal women. 
 All the best plays were run over in vain, ^'either 
 Hamlet, nor Macbeth, nor Othello, nor Douglas, 
 nor the Gamester presented anything that could 
 satisfy even the tragedians; and the Rivals, the 
 School for Scandal, Wheel of Fortune, Heir at 
 Law, and a long et ccetera were successively dis- 
 missed with yet warmer objections. No piece could 
 be proposed that did not supply somebody with 
 a difficulty, and on one side or the other it was a 
 continual repetition of, ^^Oh, no, that will never 
 do. Let us have no ranting tragedies. Too many 
 characters. ISTot a tolerable woman's part in the 
 play. Anything but that, my dear Tom. It would 
 be impossible to fill it up. One could not expect 
 anybody to take such a part. ^sTothing but buf- 
 foonery from beginning to end. That might do, 
 perhaps, but for the low parts. If I must give my 
 opinion, I have always thought it the most insipid 
 play in the English language. I do not wish to 
 make objections, I shall be happy to be of any use, 
 but I think we could not choose worse. 
 
 Fanny looked on and listened, not unamused to 
 observe the selfishness which, more or less dis- 
 guised, seemed to govern them all, and wondering 
 how it would end. For her own gratification she 
 
174 
 
 MANSFIELD PAEK. 
 
 could have wished that something might be acted, 
 for she had never seen even half a play; but 
 everything of higher consequence was against it. 
 
 " This will never do/' said Tom Bertram, at last. 
 
 We are wasting time most abominably. Some- 
 thing must be fixed on. No matter what, so that 
 something is chosen. We must not be so nice. A 
 few characters too many must not frighten us. We 
 must double them. We must descend a little. If 
 a part is insignificant, the greater our credit in 
 making anything of it. From this moment / make 
 no difficulties. I take any part you choose to give 
 me, so as it be comic. Let it but be comic, I 
 condition for nothing more." 
 
 For about the fifth time he then proposed the 
 Heir at Law, doubting only whether to prefer 
 Lord Duberley or Dr. Pangloss for himself, and 
 very earnestly but very unsuccessfully trying to 
 persuade the others that there were some fine tragic 
 parts in the rest of the dramatis personce. 
 
 The pause which followed this fruitless effoi't 
 was ended by the same speaker, who, taking up one 
 of the many volumes of plays that lay on the table, 
 and turning it over, suddenly exclaimed: Lov- 
 ers' Vows! And why should not Lovers' Vows do 
 for us as well as for the Kavenshaws? How came 
 it never to be thought of before? It strikes me 
 as if it would do exactly. What say you all? Here 
 are two capital tragic parts for Yates and Crawford, 
 and here is the rhyming Butler for me, — if nobody 
 else wants it, — a trifling part, but the sort of thing 
 I should not dislike, and, as I said before, I am 
 determined to take anj^hing and do my best. And 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 175 
 
 as for the rest, they may be filled up by anybody. 
 It is only Count Cassel and Anhalt.'' 
 
 The suggestion was generally welcome. Every- 
 body was growing weary of indecision; and the 
 first idea with everybody w^as that nothing had 
 been proposed before so likely to suit them all. 
 Mr. Yates was particularly pleased: he had been 
 sighing and longing to do the Baron at Ecclesford, 
 had grudged every rant of Lord Eavenshaw's, and 
 been forced to re-rant it all in his own room. The 
 storm through Baron Wildenhaim was the height 
 of his theatrical ambition; and with the advantage 
 of knowing half the scenes by heart already, he 
 did now with the greatest alacrity offer his ser- 
 vices for the part. To do him justice, however, he 
 did not resolve to appropriate it; for remember- 
 ing that there was some very good ranting ground 
 in Frederick, he professed an equal willingness 
 for that. Henry Crawford was ready to take 
 either. Whichever Mr. Yates did not choose 
 would perfectly satisfy him, and a short parley of 
 compliment ensued. Miss Bertram, feeling all 
 the interest of an Agatha in the question, took on 
 her to decide it, by observing to Mr. Yates that 
 this was a point in which height and figure ought 
 to be considered, and that his being the tallest 
 seemed to fit him peculiarly for the Baron. She 
 was acknowledged to be quite right; and the two 
 parts being accepted accordingly, she was certain 
 of the proper Frederick. Three of the characters 
 were now cast, besides Mr. Eushworth, who was 
 always answered for by Maria as willing to do 
 anything; when Julia, meaning, like her sister. 
 
176 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 to be Agatlia, began to be scrupulous on Miss 
 Crawford's account. 
 
 ^^This is not behaving well by the absent," 
 said she. Here are not women enough. Amelia 
 and Agatha may do for Maria and me; but there 
 is nothing for your sister, Mr. Crawford.'' 
 
 Mr. Crawford desired that might not be thought 
 of: he was very sure his sister had no wish of act- 
 ing, but as she might be useful, and that she 
 would not allow herself to be considered in the 
 present case. But this was immediately opposed 
 by Tom Bertram, who asserted the part of Amelia 
 to be in every respect the property of Miss Craw- 
 ford, if she would accept it. ^^It falls as natu- 
 rally as necessarily to her,'' said he, ^^as Agatha 
 does to one or other of my sisters. It can be no 
 sacrifice on their side, for it is highly comic," 
 
 A short silence followed. Each sister looked 
 anxious; for each felt the best claim to Agatha, 
 and was hoping to have it pressed on her by the 
 rest. Henry Crawford, w^ho meanwhile had taken 
 up the play, and with seeming carelessness was 
 turning over the first act, soon settled the business. 
 
 " I must entreat Miss Julia Bertram," said he, 
 ^^not to engage in the part of Agatha, or it will be 
 the ruin of all my solemnity. You must not, in- 
 deed you must not," turning to her. ^^I could 
 not stand your countenance dressed up in woe 
 and paleness. The many laughs we have had to- 
 gether would infallibly come across me, and Fred- 
 erick and his knapsack would be obliged to run 
 away." 
 
 Pleasantly, courteously it was spoken; but the 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 177 
 
 manner was lost in tlie matter to Julia's feelings. 
 She saw a glance at Maria, which confirmed the 
 injury to herself: it was a scheme, a trick; she 
 was slighted, Maria was preferred; the smile of tri- 
 umph which Maria was trying to suppress showed 
 how well it was understood; and before Julia 
 could command herself enough to speak, her 
 brother gave his weight against her too, by say- 
 ing: Oh, yes, Maria must be Agatha. Maria 
 will be the best Agatha. Though Julia fancies 
 she prefers tragedy, I would not trust her in it. 
 There is nothing of tragedy about her. She has 
 not the look of it. Her features are not tragic 
 features, and she walks too quick, and speaks too 
 quick, and would not keep her countenance. She 
 had better do the old countrywoman, — the Cot- 
 tager's wife; you had, indeed, Julia. Cottager's 
 wife is a very pretty part, I assure you. The old 
 lady relieves the high-flown benevolence of her 
 husband with a good deal of spirit. You shall be 
 Cottager's wife.'^ 
 
 Cottager's wife! " cried Mr. Yates. ^^What 
 are you talking of? The most trivial, paltry, in- 
 significant part; the merest commonplace, — not a 
 tolerable speech in the whole. Your sister do 
 that! It is an insult to propose it. At Eccles- 
 ford the governess was to have done it. We all 
 agreed that it could not be offered to anybody else. 
 A little more justice, Mr. Manager, if you please. 
 You do not deserve the office, if you cannot appre- 
 ciate the talents of your company a little better." 
 
 " Why, as to that, my good friend, till I and my 
 company have really acted; there must be some 
 
 VOL. I. — 12 
 
178 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 guesswork; but I mean no disparagement to Julia. 
 We cannot liave two Agathas, and we must have 
 one Cottager's wife; and I am sure I set her the 
 example of moderation myself in being satisfied 
 with the old Butler. If the part is trifling, she 
 will have more credit in making something of it ; 
 and if she is so desperately bent against every- 
 thing humorous, let her take Cottager's speeches 
 Instead of Cottager's wife's, and so change the 
 parts all through; he is solemn and pathetic 
 enough, I am sure. It could make no difference 
 in the play; and as for Cottager himself, when he 
 has got his wife's speeches, I would undertake him 
 with all my heart. '^ 
 
 With all your partiality for Cottager's wife,'' 
 said Henry Crawford, it will be impossible to 
 make anything of it fit for your sister, and we 
 must not suffer her good-nature to be imposed on. 
 We must not allow her to accept the part. She 
 must not be left to her own complaisance. Her 
 talents will be wanted in Amelia. Amelia is a 
 character more difficult to be well represented than 
 even Agatha. I consider Amelia as the most diffi- 
 cult character in the whole piece. It requires 
 great powers, great nicety, to give her playfulness 
 and simplicity without extravagance. I have seen 
 good actresses fail in the part. Simplicity, in- 
 deed, is beyond the reach of almost every actress 
 by profession. It requires a delicacy of feeling 
 which they have not. It requires a gentlewoman, 
 — a Julia Bertram. You will undertake it, I 
 hope? " turning to her with a look of anxious en- 
 treaty, which softened her a little; but while she 
 
MANSFIELD PARK 
 
 179 
 
 hesitated what to say, her "brother again inter- 
 posed with Miss Crawford's better claim. 
 
 *^N"o, no, Julia must not be Amelia. It is not 
 at all the part for her. She would not like it. 
 She would not do well. She is too tall and robust. 
 Amelia should be a small, light, girlish, shipping 
 figure. It is fit for Miss Crawford, and Miss 
 Crawford only. She looks the part, and I am per- 
 suaded will do it admirably. '' 
 
 Without attending to this, Henry Crawford con- 
 tinued his supplication. You must oblige us,^' 
 said he; indeed you must. When you have 
 studied the character, I am sure you will feel it 
 suit you. Tragedy may be your choice, but it will 
 certainly appear that comedy chooses you. You 
 will be to visit me in prison with a basket of pro- 
 visions; you will not refuse to visit me in prison? 
 I think I see you coming in with your basket. 
 
 The influence of his voice was felt. Julia wa- 
 vered; but was he only trying to soothe and pacify 
 her, and make her overlook the previous affront? 
 She distrusted him. The slight had been most de- 
 termined. He was, perhaps, but at treacherous 
 play with her. She looked suspiciously at her 
 sister. Maria's countenance was to decide it; if 
 she were vexed and alarmed — but Maria looked 
 all serenity and satisfaction, and Julia well knew 
 that on this ground Maria could not be happy but 
 at her expense. With hasty indignation, there- 
 fore, and a tremulous voice, she said to him: You 
 do not seem afraid of not keeping your counte- 
 nance when I come in with a basket of provisions 
 — though one might have supposed — but it is 
 
180 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 only as Agatlia that I was to be so overpowering! 
 She stopped. Henry Crawford looked rathei 
 foolish, and as if he did not know what to say. 
 Tom Bertram began again, — 
 
 ^^Miss Crawford must be Amelia. She will be 
 an excellent Amelia.'^ 
 
 Do not be afraid of my wanting the character, 
 cried Julia, with angry quickness. ^^I am not to 
 be Agatha, and I am sure I will do nothing else: 
 and as to Amelia, it is of all parts in the world the 
 most disgusting to me. I quite detest her. An 
 odious, little, pert, unnatural, impudent girl. I 
 have always protested against comedy, and this is 
 comedy in its worst form.'^ And so saying she 
 walked hastily out of the room, leaving awkward 
 feelings to more than one, but exciting small com- 
 passion in any except Fanny, who had been a 
 quiet auditor of the whole, and who could not 
 think of her as under the agitations of jealousy 
 without great pity. 
 
 A short silence succeeded her leaving them; but 
 her brother soon returned to business and Lovers' 
 Vows, and was eagerly looking over the play, 
 with Mr. Yates's help, to ascertain what scenery 
 would be necessary, — while Maria and Henry 
 Crawford conversed together in an under voice; 
 and the declaration with which she began of, ^^I 
 am sure I would give up the part to Julia most 
 willingly, but that though I shall probably do it 
 very ill, I feel persuaded she would do it worse,'' 
 was doubtless receiving all the compliments it 
 called for. 
 
 When this had lasted some time, the division 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 181 
 
 of the party was completed hy Tom Bertram and 
 Mr. Yates walking off together to consult further 
 in the room now beginning to be called the 
 Theatre, and Miss Bertram's resolving to go 
 down to the Parsonage herself with the offer of 
 Amelia to Miss Crawford; and Fanny remained 
 alone. 
 
 The first use she made of her solitude was to 
 take up the volume which had been left on the 
 table, and begin to acquaint herself with the play 
 of which she had heard so much. Her curiosity 
 was all awake, and she ran through it with an 
 eagerness which was suspended only by intervals 
 of astonishment that it could be chosen in the 
 present instance, — that it could be proposed and 
 accepted in a private theatre! Agatha and Amelia 
 appeared to her in their different ways so totally 
 improper for home representation — the situation 
 of one, and the language of the other, so unfit to 
 be expressed by any woman of modesty — that she 
 could hardly suppose her cousins could be aware 
 of what they were engaging in, and longed to 
 have them roused as soon as possible by the 
 remonstrance which Edmund would certainly 
 make. 
 
CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 Miss Crawford accepted the part very readily; 
 and soon after Miss Bertram's return from the 
 Parsonage, Mr. Eushworth arrived, and another 
 character was consequently cast. He had the offer 
 of Count Cassel and Anhalt, and at first did not 
 know which to choose, and wanted Miss Bertram 
 to direct him; but upon being made to understand 
 the different style of the characters, and which 
 was which, and recollecting that he had once seen 
 the play in London, and had thought Anhalt a 
 very stupid fellow, he soon decided for the Count. 
 Miss Bertram approved the decision, for the less 
 he had to learn the better; and though she could 
 not sympathize in his wish that the Count and 
 Agatha might be to act together, nor wait very 
 patiently while he was slowly turning over the 
 leaves with the hope of still discovering such a 
 scene, she very kindly took his part in hand, and 
 curtailed every speech that admitted being short- 
 ened; besides pointing out the necessity of his 
 being very much dressed, and choosing his colors. 
 Mr. Rushworth liked the idea of his finery very 
 well, though affecting to despise it; and was too 
 much engaged with what his own appearance 
 would be to think of the others, or draw any of 
 those conclusions or feel any of that displeasure 
 which Maria had been half prepared for. 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 183 
 
 Tlius mucli was settled before Edmund, wlio had 
 been out all tlie morning, knew anything of the 
 matter; but when he entered the drawing-room 
 before dinner, the buzz of discussion was high 
 between Tom, Maria, and Mr. Yates; and Mr. 
 Eushworth stepped forward with great alacrity to 
 tell him the agreeable news. 
 
 We have got a play,'' said he. ^^It is to be 
 Lovers' Voavs; and I am to be Count Cassel, and 
 am to come in first with a blue dress and a pink 
 satin cloak, and afterwards am to have another fine 
 fancy suit by way of a shooting-dress. I do not 
 know how I shall like it." 
 
 Fanny's eyes followed Edmund, and her heart 
 beat for him as she heard this speech, and saw his 
 look, and felt what his sensations must be. 
 
 Lovers' Vows!" in a tone of the greatest 
 amazement, was his only reply to Mr. Eushworth; 
 and he turned towards his brother and sisters as 
 if hardly doubting a contradiction. 
 
 ^^Yes, " cried Mr. Yates. After all our de- 
 batings and difficulties, we find there is nothing 
 that will suit us altogether so well, nothing so 
 unexceptionable, as Lovers' Vows. The wonder 
 is that it should not have been thought of before. 
 My stupidity was abominable, for here we have 
 all the advantage of what I saw at Ecclesford; and 
 it is so useful to have anything of a model! We 
 have cast almost every part." 
 
 ^^But what do you do for women?" said Ed- 
 mund, gravely, and looking at Maria. 
 
 Maria blushed in spite of herself as she an- 
 swered; ^'1 take the part which Lady Ravenshaw 
 
184 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 was to have done; and," with a bolder eye, ^' Miss 
 Crawford is to be Amelia/' 
 
 ^^I should not have thought it the sort of play 
 to be so easily filled up with us," replied Edmund, 
 turning away to the -fire, where sat his mother, 
 aunt, and Fanny, and seating himself with a look 
 of great vexation. 
 
 Mr. Eush worth followed him to say: ^^I come 
 in three times, and have two-and-forty speeches. 
 That 's something, is not it ? But I do not much 
 like the idea of being so fine. I shall hardly 
 know myself in a blue dress and a pink. satin 
 cloak.'' 
 
 Edmund could not answer him. In a few min- 
 utes Mr. Bertram was called out of the room to 
 satisfy some doubts of the carpenter; and being 
 accompanied by Mr. Yates, and followed soon 
 afterwards by Mr. Rush worth, Edmund almost 
 immediately took the opportunity of saying: ^^I 
 cannot before Mr. Yates speak what I feel as to 
 this play, without reflecting on his friends at 
 Ecclesford; but I must now, my dear Maria, tell 
 you that I think it exceedingly unfit for private 
 representation, and that I hope you will give it 
 up. I cannot but suppose you will when you have 
 read it carefully over. Read only the first act 
 aloud to either your mother or aunt, and see how 
 you can approve it. It will not be necessary 
 to send you to your father's judgment, I am 
 convinced." 
 
 We see things very differently," cried Maria. 
 
 I am perfectl}^ acquainted with the play, I assure 
 you; and with a very few omissions, and so forth. 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 185 
 
 which will be made of course, I can see nothing 
 objectionable in it; and I am not the only young 
 woman you find who thinks it very fit for private 
 representation/' 
 
 ^^I am sorry for it/' was his answer; ^^but in 
 this matter it is you who are to lead. You must 
 set the example. If others have blundered, it is 
 your place to put them right, and show them what 
 true delicacy is. In all points of decorum, your 
 conduct must be law to the rest of the party.'' 
 
 This picture of her consequence had some effect, 
 for no one loved better to lead than Maria; and 
 with far more good-humor she answered : ^ ^ I am 
 much obliged to you, Edmund; you mean very 
 well, I am sure: but I still think you see things 
 too strongly; and I really cannot undertake to 
 harangue all the rest upon a subject of this 
 kind. There would be the greatest indecorum, I 
 think." 
 
 ^^Do you imagine that I could have such an 
 idea in my head? No; let your conduct be the 
 only harangue. Say that, on examining the part, 
 you feel yourself unequal to it; that you find it 
 requiring more exertion and confidence than you 
 can be supposed to have. Say this with firmness, 
 and it will be quite enough. All who can distin- 
 guish will understand your motive. The play 
 will be given up, and your delicacy honored as it 
 ought." 
 
 ^^Do not act anything improper, my dear," said 
 Lady Bertram; ^^Sir Thomas would not like it. 
 Fanny, ring the bell; I must have my dinner. 
 To be sure, Julia is dressed by this time." 
 
186 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 ^^I am convinced, madam, said Edmund, pre- 
 venting Fanny, ^Hhat Sir Thomas would not 
 like 
 
 There, my dear, do you hear what Edmund 
 says?'' 
 
 If I were to decline the part," said Maria, 
 with renewed zeal, Julia would certainly take 
 it.'' 
 
 ^^What! " cried Edmund, ^^if she knew your 
 reasons? " 
 
 ^^Oh, she might think the difference between 
 us, — the difference in our situations, — that she 
 need not be so scrupulous as I might feel necessary. 
 I am sure she wwild argue so. No; you must 
 excuse me. I cannot retract my consent; it is too 
 far settled, everybody would be so disappointed, 
 Tom would be quite angry; and if we are so very 
 nice, we shall never act anything." 
 
 ^^I was just going to say the very same thing," 
 said Mrs. Norris. ^^If every play is to be ob- 
 jected to, you will act nothing, and the prepara- 
 tions will be all so much money thrown away, 
 and I am sure that would be a discredit to us all. 
 I do not know the play; but, as Maria says, if 
 there is anything a little too warm (and it is so 
 with most of them), it can be easily left out. We 
 must not be over-precise, Edmund. As Mr. 
 Rushworth is to act too, there can be no harm. 
 I only wish Tom had known his own mind when 
 the carpenters began, for there was the loss of 
 half a day's w^ork about those side-doors. The 
 curtain will be a good job, however. The maids 
 do their work very well, and I think we shall be 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 187 
 
 able to send back some dozens of the rings. 
 There is no occasion to put them so very close to- 
 gether. I am of some use, I hope, in preventing 
 waste and making the most of things. There 
 should always be one steady head to superintend 
 so many young ones. I forgot to tell Tom of 
 something that happened to me this very day. I 
 had been looking about me in the poultry-yard, 
 and was just coming out, when who should I see 
 but Dick Jackson making up to the servants' hall 
 door with two bits of deal board in his hand, 
 bringing them to father, you may be sure; mother 
 had chanced to send him of a message to father, 
 and then father had bid him bring up them two 
 bits of board, for he could not nohow do without 
 them. I knew what all this meant, for the ser- 
 vants' dinner-bell was ringing at the very moment 
 over our heads; and as I hate such encroaching 
 people (the Jacksons are very encroaching, I have 
 always said so, — just the sort of people to get all 
 they can), I said to the boy directly (a great lub- 
 berly fellow of ten years old, you know, who ought 
 to be ashamed of himself), ^ I '11 take the boards 
 to your father, Dick; so get you home again as 
 fast as you can.' The boy looked very silly, and 
 turned away without offering a word, for I believe 
 I might speak pretty sharp; and I dare say it will 
 cure him of coming marauding about the house 
 for one while. I hate such greediness, — so good 
 as your father is to the family, employing the 
 man all the year round! " 
 
 Nobody was at the trouble of an answer. The 
 others soon returned; and Edmund found that to 
 
188 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 have endeavored to set them right must be his 
 only satisfaction. 
 
 Dinner passed heavily. Mrs. Norris related 
 again her triumph over Dick Jackson; but neither 
 play nor preparation was otherwise much talked 
 of, for Edmund's disapprobation was felt even by 
 his brother, though he would not have owned it. 
 Maria, wanting Henry Crawford's animating sup- 
 port, thought the subject better avoided. Mr. 
 Yates, who was trying to make himself agreeable 
 to Julia, found her gloom less impenetrable on 
 any topic than that of his regret at her secession 
 from their company; and Mr. Rush worth, having 
 only his own part and his own dress in his head, had 
 soon talked away all that could be said of either. 
 
 But the concerns of the theatre were suspended 
 only for an hour or two : there was still a great 
 deal to be settled; and the spirits of evening giv- 
 ing fresh courage, Tom, Maria, and Mr. Yates, 
 soon after their being re-assembled in the drav/- 
 ing-room, seated themselves in committee at a sep- 
 arate table, w^ith the play open before them, and 
 were just getting deep in the subject, when a most 
 welcome interruption was given by the entrance 
 of Mr. and Miss Crawford, who, late and dark 
 and dirty as it was, could not help coming, and 
 w^ere received with the most grateful joy. 
 
 ^^Well, how do you goon?'' and ^^What have 
 you settled?" and Oh, we can do nothing with- 
 out you," followed the first salutations; and 
 Henry Crawford was soon seated with the other 
 three at the table, while his sister made her way 
 to Lady Bertram, and with pleasant attention 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 189 
 
 was complimenting her. ^^I must really congratu* 
 late your Ladyship/' said she, ^^on the play be- 
 ing chosen; for though you have borne it with 
 exemplary patience, I am sure you must be sick 
 of all our noise and difficulties. The actors may 
 be glad, but the bystanders must be infinitely 
 more thankful for a decision; and I do sincerely 
 give you joy, madam, as well as Mrs. Norris, and 
 everybody else who is in the same predicament," 
 glancing half fearfully, half slyly, beyond Fanny 
 to Edmund. 
 
 She was very civilly answered by Lady Bertram, 
 but Edmund said nothing. His being only a by- 
 stander was not disclaimed. After continuing in 
 chat with the party round the fire a few minutes, 
 Miss Crawford returned to the party round the 
 table; and standing by them, seemed to interest 
 herself in their arrangements till, as if struck by 
 a sudden recollection, she exclaimed: ^^My good 
 friends, you are most composedly at work upon 
 these cottages and alehouses, inside and out; but 
 pray let me know my fate in the mean while. Who 
 is to be Anhalt? What gentleman among you am 
 I to have the pleasure of making love to? " 
 
 Eor a moment no one spoke ; and then many spoke 
 together to tell the same melancholy truth, — that 
 they had not yet got any Anhalt. ^^Mr. Eush- 
 worth was to be Count Cassel, but no one had yet 
 undertaken Anhalt. 
 
 ^^I had my choice of the parts,'' said Mr. Kush- 
 worth; ^^but I thought I should like the Count 
 best, — though I do not much relish the finery I 
 am to have." 
 
190 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 ^^You cliose very wisely, I am sure/' replied 
 Miss Crawford, with a brightened look 5 ^^Anhalt 
 is a heavy part." 
 
 ^^The Count has two-and-forty speeches,'' re- 
 turned Mr. Eushworth, which is no trifle." 
 
 ^^I am not at all surprised," said Miss Craw- 
 ford, after a short pause, ^^at this want of an An- 
 halt. Amelia deserves no better. Such a forward 
 young lady may well frighten the men." 
 
 ^^I should be but too happy in taking the part, 
 if it were possible," cried Tom; ^^but unluckily 
 the Butler and Anhalt are in together. I will not 
 entirely give it up, however, — I will try what can 
 be done, — I will look it over again." 
 
 Your brother should take the part," said Mr. 
 Yates, in a low voice. ^'Do not you think he 
 would ? " 
 
 shall not ask him," replied Tom, in a cold, 
 determined manner. 
 
 Miss Crawford talked of something else, and 
 soon afterwards rejoined the party at the fire. 
 
 They do not want me at all," said she, seating 
 herself. ^^I only puzzle them, and oblige them to 
 make civil speeches. Mr. Edmund Bertram, as 
 you do not act yourself, you will be a disinterested 
 adviser; and therefore I apply to you. What 
 shall we do for an Anhalt ? Is it practicable for 
 any of the others to double it? What is your 
 advice ? " 
 
 '^My advice," said he, calmly, ^^is that you 
 change the play." 
 
 " I should have no objection," she replied; ^^for 
 though I should not particularly dislike the part of 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 191 
 
 Amelia if well supported, — that is, if everything 
 went well, — I shall be sorry to be an inconven- 
 ience; but as they do not choose to hear your ad- 
 vice at that table/' looking round, ^^it certainly 
 will not be taken." 
 
 Edmund said no more. 
 If any part could tempt you to act, I suppose it 
 would be Anhalt, " observed the lady, archly, after 
 a short pause; for he is a clergyman, you know.'' 
 
 ^^That circumstance would by no means tempt 
 me,'' he replied, ^^for I should be sorry to make 
 the character ridiculous by bad acting. It must 
 be very difficult to keep Anhalt from appearing a 
 formal, solemn lecturer; and the man who chooses 
 the profession itself is perhaps one of the last who 
 would wish to represent it on the stage." 
 
 Miss Crawford was silenced, and with some feel- 
 ings of resentment and mortification, moved her 
 chair considerably nearer the tea-table, and gave 
 all her attention to Mrs. ISTorris, who was presiding 
 there. 
 
 Fanny," cried Tom Bertram, from the other 
 table, where the conference was eagerly carrying 
 on, and the conversation incessant, ' ' we want 
 your services." 
 
 Eanny was up in a moment, expecting some 
 errand; for the habit of employing her in that way 
 was not yet overcome, in spite of all that Edmund 
 could do. 
 
 we do not want to disturb you from your 
 seat. We do not want your present services. We 
 shall only want you in our play. You must be 
 Cottager's wife." 
 
192 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 ^^Me! " cried Fanny, sitting down again with a 
 most frightened look. Indeed you must excuse 
 me. I could not act anything if you were to give 
 me the world. ISTo, indeed, I cannot act.'' 
 
 Indeed, but you must, for we cannot excuse 
 you. It need not frighten you; it a nothing of 
 a part, a mere nothing, not ^bove half-a-dozen 
 speeches altogether, and it will not much signify 
 if nobody hears a word you say; so you may be as 
 creepmouse as you like, but we must have you to 
 look at." 
 
 ' ' If you are afraid of half-a-dozen speeches, ' ' 
 cried Mr. Eushworth, ^^what would you do with 
 such a part as mine ? I have forty-two to learn.'' 
 
 It is not that I am afraid of learning by heart," 
 said Fanny, shocked to find herself at that moment 
 the only speaker in the room, and to feel that al- 
 most every eye was upon her ; ' ' but I really can- 
 not act." 
 
 ^^Yes, yes, you can act well enough for us. 
 Learn your part, and we will teach you all the 
 rest. You have only two scenes, and as I shall be 
 Cottager, I '11 put you in and push you about; and 
 you will do it very well, I '11 answer for it." 
 
 '^^0, indeed, Mr. Bertram, you must excuse 
 me. You cannot have an idea. It wwld be ab- 
 solutely impossible for me. If I were to undertake 
 it, I should only disappoint you." 
 
 ^^Phoo! Phoo! Do not be so shamefaced. 
 You '11 do it very well. Every allov/ance will be 
 made for you. We do not expect perfection. You 
 must get a brown gown and a white apron and a 
 mob cap, and we must make you a few wrinkles, 
 
MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 193 
 
 and a little of the crowsfoot at the corner of your 
 eyes, and you will be a very proper little old 
 woman/ ^ 
 
 You must excuse me, indeed you must excuse 
 me," cried Fanny, growing more and more red 
 from excessive agitation, and looking distressfully 
 at Edmund, who was kindly observing her; but 
 unwilling to exasperate his brother by interference, 
 gave her only an encouraging smile. Her entreaty 
 had no effect on Tom: he only said again what 
 he had said before ; and it was not merely Tom, for 
 the requisition was now backed by Maria and Mr. 
 Crawford and Mr. Yates, with an urgency which 
 differed from his but in being more gentle or more 
 ceremonious, and which altogether was quite over- 
 powering to Fanny; and before she could breathe 
 after it^ Mrs. Norris completed the whole, by thus 
 addressing her in a whisper at once angry and 
 audible: ^^What a piece of work here is about 
 nothing, — I am quite ashamed of you, Fanny, to 
 make such a difficulty of obliging your cousins in 
 a trifle of this sort, — so kind as they are to you ! 
 Take the part with a good grace, and let us hear 
 no more of the matter, I entreat.^' 
 
 " Do not urge her, madam," said Edmund. '^It 
 is not fair to urge her in this manner. You see 
 she does not like to act. Let her choose for her- 
 self as well as the rest of us. Her judgment may 
 be quite as safely trusted. Do not urge her any 
 more.'' 
 
 ^^I am not going to urge her/' replied Mrs. 
 Norris, sharply; ^^but I shall think her a very 
 obstinate, ungrateful girl, if she does not do what 
 
 VOL. I. — 13 
 
194 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 her aunt and cousins wish her, — very ungrateful, 
 indeed, considering who and what she is." 
 
 Edmund was too angry to speak ; hut Miss Craw- 
 ford, looking for a moment with astonished eyes at 
 Mrs. Korris, and then at Fanny, whose tears were 
 heginning to show themselves, immediately said, 
 with some keenness: ^^I do not like my situation; 
 this place is too hot for me,'' and moved away 
 her chair to the opposite side of the table, close to 
 Tanny, saying to her, in a kind, low whisper, as 
 she placed herself, Never mind, my dear Miss 
 Price; this is a cross evening, — everybody is 
 cross and teasing, — but do not let us mind them; '' 
 and with pointed attention continued to talk to her 
 and endeavor to raise her spirits, in spite of being 
 out of spirits herself. By a look at her brother she 
 prevented any further entreaty from the theatrical 
 board, and the re?Jly good feelings by which she 
 was almost purely governed were rapidly restoring 
 her to all the little she had lost in Edmund's 
 favor. 
 
 Fanny did not love Miss Crawford: but she felt 
 very much obliged to her for her present kind- 
 ness; and when from taking notice of her work, 
 and wishing she could work as well, and begging 
 for the pattern, and supposing Fanny was now pre- 
 paring for her appearance, as of course she would 
 come out when her cousin was married, Miss Craw- 
 ford proceeded to inquire if she had heard lately 
 from her brother at sea, and said that she had 
 quite a curiosity to see him, and imagined him a 
 very fine young man, and advised Fanny to get his 
 picture drawn before he went to sea again, she 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 195 
 
 could not help admitting it to be very agreeable 
 flattery, or help listening and answering with 
 more animation than she had intended. 
 
 The consultation upon the play still went on; 
 and Miss Crawford's attention was first called from 
 Fanny by Tom Bertram's telling her, with infinite 
 regret, that he found it absolutely impossible for 
 him to undertake the part of Anhalt in addition to 
 the Butler: he had been most anxiously trying 
 to make it out to be feasible, but it would not 
 do, — he must give it up. ^^But there will not 
 be the smallest difficulty in filling it," he added. 
 ^^We have but to speak the word; we may pick 
 and choose. I could name at this moment at least 
 six young men within six miles of us, who are 
 wild to be admitted into our company, and there 
 are one or two that would not disgrace us, — I 
 should not be afraid to trust either of the Olivers 
 or Charles Maddox. Tom Oliver is a very clever 
 fellow, and Charles Maddox is as gentlemanlike a 
 man as you will see anywhere ; so I will take my 
 horse early to-morrow morning and ride over to 
 Stoke, and settle with one of them." 
 
 While he spoke Maria was looking apprehen- 
 sively round at Edmund, in full expectation 
 that he must oppose such an enlargement of the 
 plan as this, — so contrary to all their first protes- 
 tations ; but Edmund said nothing. After a mo- 
 ment's thought Miss Crawford calmly replied: 
 ^^As far as I am concerned, I can have no objec- 
 tion to anything that you all think eligible. 
 Have I ever seen either of the gentlemen? Yes, 
 Mr. Charles Maddox dined at my sister's one day, 
 
196 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 did not he, Henry? A quiet-looking young i an. 
 I remember him. Let him be applied to, if you 
 please, for it will be less unpleasant to me than 
 to have a perfect stranger.'^ 
 
 Charles Maddox was to be the man. Tom re- 
 peated his resolution of going to him early on 
 the morrow; and though Julia, who had scarcely 
 opened her lips before, observed in a sarcastic 
 manner, and with a glance first at Maria and then 
 at Edmund, that ^Hhe Mansfield theatricals would 
 enliven the whole neighborhood exceedingly,'^ Ed- 
 mund still held his peace, and showed his feelings 
 only by a determined gravity. 
 
 ^^I am not very sanguine as to our play," said 
 Miss Crawford, in an under voice to Fanny, after 
 some consideration; and I can tell Mr. Maddox 
 that I shall shorten some of his speeches, and a 
 great many of my own before we rehearse together. 
 It will be very disagreeable, and by no means what 
 I expected." 
 
CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 It was not in Miss Crawford's power to talk 
 Fanny into any real forgetfulness of what had 
 passed. When the evening was over^ she went to 
 bed full of it, her nerves still agitated by the 
 shock of such an attack from her cousin Tom, so 
 public and so persevered in, and her spirits sink- 
 ing under her aunt's unkind reflection and re- 
 proach. To be called into notice in such a manner, 
 to hear that it was but the prelude to something so 
 infinitely worse, to be told that she must do what 
 was so impossible as to act; and then to have the 
 charge of obstinacy and ingratitude follow it, en- 
 forced with such a hint at the dependence of her 
 situation, had been too distressing at the time to 
 make the remembrance when she was alone much 
 less so, — especially with the superadded dread of 
 what the morrow might produce in continuation of 
 the subject. Miss Crawford had protected her 
 only for the time; and if she were applied to 
 again among themselves with all the authoritative 
 urgency that Tom and Maria were capable of, and 
 Edmund perhaps away, what should she do? She 
 fell asleep before she could answer the question, 
 and found it quite as puzzling when she awoke the 
 next morning. The little white attic, which had 
 continued her sleeping-room ever since her first 
 
198 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 entering the family, proving incompetent to sug- 
 gest any reply, she had recourse, as soon as she 
 was dressed, to another apartment more spacious 
 and more meet for walking about in and think- 
 ing, and of which she had now for some time been 
 almost equally mistress. It had been their school- 
 room; so called till the Miss Bertrams would not 
 allow it to be called so any longer, and inhabited 
 as such to a later period. There Miss Lee had 
 lived, and there they had read and written and 
 talked and laughed, till within the last three years, 
 when she had quitted them. The room had then 
 become useless, and for some time was quite de- 
 serted, except by Panny, when she visited her 
 plants, or wanted one of the books which she was 
 still glad to "keep there from the deficiency of space 
 and accommodation in her little chamber above: 
 but gradually, as her value for the comforts of it 
 increased, she had added to her possessions, and 
 spent more of her time there; and having nothing 
 to oppose her, had so naturally and so artlessly 
 worked herself into it that it was now generall}^ 
 admitted to be hers. The East room, as it had 
 been called ever since Maria Bertram was sixteen, 
 w^as now considered Fanny's almost as decidedly 
 as the white attic; the smallness of the one mak- 
 ing the use of the other so evidently reasonable 
 that the Miss Bertrams, with every superiority in 
 their own apartments which their own sense of 
 superiority could demand, were entirely approving 
 it; and Mrs. Norris, having stipulated for there 
 never being a fire in it on Fanny's account, was 
 tolerably resigned to her having the use of what 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 199 
 
 nobody else wanted, tliough the terms in which 
 she sometimes spoke of the indulgence seemed to 
 imply that it was the best room in the house. 
 
 The aspect was so favorable that even without a 
 fire it was habitable in many an early spring and 
 late autumn morning, to such a willing mind as 
 Fanny's ; and while there was a gleam of sunshine, 
 she hoped not to be driven from it entirely, even 
 when winter came. The comfort of it in her 
 hours of leisure was extreme. She could go there 
 after anything unpleasant below, and find imme- 
 diate consolation in some pursuit, or some train of 
 thought at hand. Her plants, her books, — of 
 which she had been a collector, from the first hour 
 of her commanding a shilling, — her writing-desk, 
 and her works of charity and ingenuity were all 
 within her reach; or if indisposed for employment, 
 if nothing but musing would do, she could scarcely 
 see an object in that room which had not an inter- 
 esting remembrance connected with it. Every- 
 thing was a friend, or bore her thoughts to a 
 friend; and though there had been sometimes 
 much of suffering to her, — though her motives 
 had been often misunderstood, her feelings disre- 
 garded, and her comprehension undervalued, — • 
 though she had known the pains of tyranny, of 
 ridicule, and neglect, — yet almost every recur- 
 rence of either had led to something consolatory: 
 her aunt Bertram had spoken for her, or Miss Lee 
 had been encouraging, or what was yet more fre- 
 quent or more dear, Edmund had been her cham- 
 pion and her friend, — he had supported her cause 
 or explained her meaning, he had told her not to 
 
200 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 cry, or had given her some proof of affection which 
 made her tears delightful, — and the whole was 
 now so blended together, so harmonized by dis- 
 tance, that every former affliction had its charm. 
 The room was most dear to her, and she would 
 not have changed its furniture for the handsomest 
 in the house, though what had been originally 
 plain had suffered all the ill-usage of children; 
 and its greatest elegances and ornaments were a 
 faded footstool of Julia's work, too ill done for the 
 drawing-room ; three transparencies, made in a rage 
 for transparencies, for the three lower panes of 
 one window, where Tintern Abbey held its station 
 between a cave in Italy and a moonlight lake in 
 Cumberland ; a collection of family profiles thought 
 unworthy of being anywhere else, over the mantel- 
 piece; and by their side, and pinned against the 
 wall, a small sketch of a ship sent four years 
 ago from the Mediterranean by William, with 
 '^H. M. S. Antwerp" at the bottom in letters as 
 tall as the mainmast. 
 
 To this nest of comforts Fanny now walked 
 down to try its influence on an agitated, doubting 
 spirit, — to see if by looking at Edmund's profile 
 she could catch any of his counsel, or by giving 
 air to her geraniums she might inhale a breeze of 
 mental strength herself. But she had more than 
 fears of her own perseverance to remove : she had 
 begun to feel undecided as to what she ought to 
 do; and as she walked round the room, her doubts 
 were increasing. Was she right in refusing what 
 was so warmly asked, so strongly vfished for? 
 What might be so essential to a scheme on which 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 201 
 
 some of those to whom she owed the greatest 
 complaisance had set their hearts? Was it not ill- 
 nature, selfishness, and a fear of exposing her- 
 self? And would Edmund's judgment, would his 
 persuasion of Sir Thomas's disapprobation of the 
 whole, be enough to justify her in a determined 
 denial in spite of all the rest? It would be so 
 horrible to her to act, that she was inclined to sus- 
 pect the truth and purity of her own scruples; 
 and as she looked around her, the claims of her 
 cousins to being obliged were strengthened by the 
 sight of present upon present that she had received 
 from them. The table between the windows was 
 covered with work-boxes and netting-boxes which 
 had been given her at different times, principally 
 by Tom ; and she grew bewildered as to the amount 
 of the debt which all these kind remembrances 
 produced. A tap at the door roused her in the 
 midst of this attempt to find her way to her duty, 
 and her gentle ^^Come in" was answered by the 
 appearance of one before whom all her doubts were 
 wont to be laid. Her eyes brightened at the 
 sight of Edmund. 
 
 ^^Can I speak with you, Fanny, for a few min- 
 utes ? " said he. 
 
 ^^Yes, certainly,'^ 
 I want to consult — T want your opinion. 
 
 ''My opinion!'^ she cried, shrinking from such 
 a compliment, highly as it gratified her. 
 
 Yes, your advice and opinion. I do not know 
 what to do. This acting scheme gets worse and 
 worse, you see. They have chosen almost as bad 
 a play as they could; and now, to complete the 
 
202 
 
 MANSFIELD PAEK 
 
 business, are going to ask the help of a young man 
 very' slightly known to any of us. This is the end 
 of all the privacy and propriety which was talked 
 about at first. I know no harm of Charles Mad- 
 dox; but the excessive intimacy which must spring 
 from his being admitted among us in this manner 
 is highly objectionable, — the more than intimacy, 
 the familiarity. I cannot think of it with any 
 patience ; and it does appear to me an evil of such 
 magnitude as must, if possible, be prevented. Do 
 not you see it in the same light? 
 
 Yes; but what can be done? Your brother is 
 so determined." 
 
 " There is but one thing to be done, Fanny. I 
 must take Anhalt myself. I am well aware that 
 nothing else will quiet Tom.'' 
 
 Fanny could not answer him. 
 
 ^^It is not at all what I like," he continued. 
 ^^No man can like being driven into the appear- 
 ance of such inconsistency. After being known 
 to oppose the scheme from the beginning, there is 
 absurdity in the face of my joining them now, 
 when they are exceeding their first plan in every 
 respect; but I can think of no other alternative. 
 Can you, Fanny? '' 
 
 ^^No,'' said Fanny, slowly, ^^not immediately; 
 but — " 
 
 ^^But what? I see your judgment is not with 
 me. Think it a little over. Perhaps you are not 
 so much aware as I am of the mischief that may, 
 of the unpleasantness that must, arise from a 
 young man's being received in this manner, — 
 domesticated among us, authorized to come at all 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 203 
 
 hours, and placed suddenly on a footing which 
 must do away all restraints. To think only of 
 the license which every rehearsal must tend to 
 create. It is all very bad! Put yourself in Miss 
 Crawford's place, Panny. Consider what it would 
 be to act Amelia with a stranger. She has a 
 right to be felt for, because she evidently feels for 
 herself. I heard enough of what she said to you 
 last night, to understand her unwillingness to be 
 acting with a stranger; and as she probably en- 
 gaged in the part with different expectations, 
 perhaps without considering the subject enough to 
 know what w^as likely to be, it would be ungen- 
 erous, it would be really wrong to expose her to 
 it. Her feelings ought to be respected. Does it 
 not strike you so, Panny? You hesitate.'^ 
 
 ^^I am sorry for Miss Crawford; but I am more 
 sorry to see you drawn in to do what you have 
 resolved against, and what you are known to think 
 will be disagreeable to my uncle. It will be such 
 a triumph to the others! " 
 
 ^^They will not have much cause of triumph 
 when they see how infamously I act. But, how- 
 ever, triumph there certainly will be, and I must 
 brave it. But if I can be the means of restraining 
 the publicity of the business, of limiting the ex- 
 hibition, of concentrating our folly, I shall be well 
 repaid. As I am now, I have no influence, I can 
 do nothing; I have offended them, and they will 
 not hear me, but when I have put them in good 
 humor by this concession, I am not without hopes 
 of persuading them to confine the representation 
 within a much smaller circle than they are now in 
 
204 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 the high road for. This will be a material gain. 
 My object is to confine it to Mrs. Eush worth and 
 the Grants. Will not this be worth gaining? 
 Yes, it will be a great point.'' 
 
 ^^But still it has not your approbation. Can 
 you mention any other measure by which I have a 
 chance of doing equal good? '' 
 
 ^^iso, I cannot think of anything else." 
 
 '^Give me your approbation, then, Fanny. I 
 am not comfortable without it.'' 
 
 ^^Oh, cousin." 
 If you are against me, I ought to distrust my- 
 self; and yet — But it is absolutely impossible 
 to let Tom go on in this way, riding about the 
 country in quest of anybody who can be persuaded 
 to act, — no matter whom ; the look of a gentleman 
 is to be enough. I thought you would have en- 
 tered more into Miss Crawford's feelings." 
 
 ''ISo doubt she will be very glad. It must be a 
 great relief to her," said Fanny, trying for greater 
 warmth of manner. 
 
 ^^She never appeared more amiable than in her 
 behavior to you last night. It gave her a very 
 strong claim on my good-will." 
 
 ^^She was very kind, indeed, and I am glad to 
 have her spared — " 
 
 She could not finish the generous effusion. Her 
 conscience stopped her in the middle; but Edmund 
 was satisfied. 
 
 '^I shall walk down immediately after break- 
 fast," said he, '^and am sure of giving pleasure 
 there. And now, dear Fanny, I will not interrapt 
 you any longer. You want to be reading. But I 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 205 
 
 could not be easy till I had spoken to you and 
 come to a decision. Sleeping or waking, my head 
 has been full of this matter all night. It is an 
 evilj — but I am certainly making it less than it 
 might be. If Tom is up, I shall go to him di- 
 rectly and get it over; and when we meet at 
 breakfast we shall be all in high good-humor at 
 the prospect of acting the fool together with such 
 unanimity. You in the mean while will be taking 
 a trip into China, I suppose. How does Lord 
 Macartney go on?'^ opening a volume on the ta- 
 ble, and then taking up some others. And here 
 are Crabbe's Tales and the Idler, at hand to 
 relieve you if you tire of your great book. I ad- 
 mire your little establishment exceedingly; and as 
 soon as I am gone you will empty your head of all 
 this nonsense of acting, and sit comfortably down 
 to your table. But do not stay here to be cold.'^ 
 
 He went; but there was no reading, no China, 
 no composure for Eanny. He had told her the 
 most extraordinary, the most inconceivable, the 
 most unwelcome news; and she could think of 
 nothing else. To be acting! After all his ob- 
 jections, — objections so just and so public! After 
 all that she had heard him say, and seen him look, 
 and known him to be feeling! Could it be pos- 
 sible? Edmund so inconsistent! Was he not 
 deceiving himself? Was he not wrong? Alas! it 
 was all Miss Crawford's doing. She had seen her 
 influence in every speech, and was miserable. 
 The doubts and alarms as to her own conduct, 
 which had previously distressed her, and which 
 had all slept while she listened to him, were 
 
206 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 become of little consequence now. This deeper 
 aiixiety swallowed them up. Things should take 
 their course; she cared not how it ended. Her 
 cousins might attack, but could hardly tease her. 
 She was beyond their reach; and if at last obliged 
 to yield; no matter, — it was all misery now. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 It was, indeed, a triumphant day to Mr. Bertram 
 and Maria. Such a victory over Edmund's dis- 
 cretion had been beyond their hopes, and was 
 most delightful. There was no longer anything 
 to disturb them in their darling project, and they 
 congratulated each other in private on the jealous 
 weakness to which they attributed the change, 
 with all the glee of feelings gratified in everyway. 
 Edmund might still look grave, and say he did not 
 like the scheme in general, and must disapprove the 
 play in particular ; their point was gained : he was 
 to act, and he was driven to it by the force of 
 selfish inclinations only. Edmund had descended 
 from that moral elevation which he had maintained 
 before, and they were both as much the better as 
 the happier for the descent. 
 
 They behaved very well, however, to him on the 
 occasion, betraying no exultation bej^ond the lines 
 about the corners of the mouth, and seemed to 
 think it as great an escape to be quit of the intru- 
 sion of Charles Maddox, as if they had been forced 
 into admitting him against their inclination. 
 
 To have it quite in their own family circle was 
 what they had particularly wished. A stranger 
 among them would have been the destruction of 
 all their comfort and when Edmund; pursuing 
 
208 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 that idea, gave a hint of his hope as to the limita- 
 ti\)n of the audience, they were ready, in the com- 
 plaisance of the moment, to promise anything. It 
 was all good-humor and encouragement. Mrs. 
 Norris offered to contrive his dress, Mr. Yates 
 assured him that Anhalt's last scene with the 
 Baron admitted a good deal of action and empha- 
 sis, and Mr. Eushworth undertook to count his 
 speeches. 
 
 Perhaps," said Tom, Fanny may be more 
 disposed to oblige us now. Perhaps you may per- 
 suade her.'^ 
 
 ^^N"o; she is quite determined. She certainly 
 will not act.'^ 
 
 ^^Oh, very well." And not another word was 
 said; but Fanny felt herself again in danger, and 
 her indifference to the danger was beginning to 
 fail her already. 
 
 There were not fewer smiles at the Parsonage 
 than at the Park on this change in Edmund; Miss 
 Crawford looked very lovely in hers, and entered 
 with such an instantaneous renewal of cheerfulness 
 into the whole affair, as could have but one effect 
 on him. He was certainly right in respecting 
 such feelings ; he was glad he had determined on 
 it." And the morning wore away in satisfactions 
 very sweet, if not very sound. One advantage re- 
 sulted from it to Fanny ; at the earnest request of 
 Miss Crawford, Mrs. Grant had, with her usual 
 good-humor, agreed to undertake the part for 
 which Fanny had been wanted; and this was all 
 that occurred to gladden her heart during the day ; 
 and even this, when imparted by Edmund, brought 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 209 
 
 a pang with it, for it was Miss Crawford to whom 
 she was obliged, it was Miss Crawford whose kind 
 exertions were to excite her gratitude, and whose 
 merit in making them was spoken of with a glow 
 of admiration. She was safe ; but peace and safety 
 were unconnected here. Her mind had been never 
 farther from peace. She could not feel that she 
 had done wrong herself, but she was disquieted in. 
 every other wayc Her heart and her judgment 
 were equally against Edmund's decision : she could 
 not acquit his unsteadiness; and his happiness 
 under it made her wretched. She was full of jeal- 
 ousy and agitation. Miss Crawford came with 
 looks of gayety which seemed an insult, with 
 friendly expressions towards herself which she could 
 hardly answer calmly. Everybody around her was 
 gay and busy, prosperous and important; each had 
 their object of interest, their part, their dress, 
 their favorite scene, their friends and confederates, 
 — all were finding employment in consultations and 
 comparisons, or diversion in the playful conceits 
 they suggested. She alone was sad and insignifi- 
 cant; she had no share in anything; she might go 
 or stay, she might be in the midst of their noise, 
 or retreat from it to the solitude of the East room, 
 without being seen or missed. She could almost 
 think anything would have been preferable to this. 
 Mrs. Grant was of consequence; her good-nature 
 had honorable mention, her taste and her time 
 were considered, her presence was wanted, she 
 was sought for and attended and praised; and 
 Fanny was at first in some danger of envying her 
 the character she had accepted. But reflection 
 
 VOL. I. — 14 
 
210 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 bi:ouglit better feelings, and showed her that Mrs. 
 Grant was entitled to respect which could never 
 have belonged to her; and that had she received 
 even the greatest, she could never have been easy 
 in joining a scheme which, considering only her 
 uncle, she must condemn altogether. 
 
 Fanny's heart was not absolutely the only sad- 
 dened one amongst them, as she soon began to ac- 
 knowledge herself. Julia was a sufferer, too, 
 though not quite so blamelessly. 
 
 Henry Crawford had trifled with her feelings; 
 but she had very long allowed and even sought his 
 attentions, with a jealousy of her sister so reason- 
 able as ought to have been their cure ; and now 
 that the conviction of his preference for Maria had 
 been forced on her, she submitted to it without 
 any alarm for Maria's situation, or any endeavor at 
 rational tranquillity for herself. She either sat in 
 gloomy silence, wrapped in such gravity as nothing 
 could subdue, no curiosity touch, no wit amuse; or 
 allowing the attentions of Mr. Yates, was talking 
 with forced gayety to him alone, and ridiculing the 
 acting of the others. 
 
 For a day or two after the affront was given, 
 Henry Crawford had endeavored to do it away by 
 the usual attack of gallantry and compliment, but 
 he had not cared enough about it to persevere 
 against a few repulses; and becoming soon too 
 busy with his play to have time for more than one 
 flirtation, he grew indifferent to the quarrel, or 
 rather thought it a lucky occurrence, as quietly 
 putting an end to what might erelong have raised 
 expectations in more than Mrs. Grant. She w^as 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 211 
 
 not pleased to see Julia excluded from the play, 
 and sitting by disregarded; but as it was not a 
 matter which really involved her happiness, as 
 Henry must be the best judge of his own, and as 
 he did assure her, with a most persuasive smile, 
 that neither he nor Julia had ever had a serious 
 thought of each other, she could only renew her 
 former caution as to the elder sister, entreat him 
 not to risk his tranquillity by too much admira- 
 tion there, and then gladly take her share in any- 
 thing that brought cheerfulness to the young people 
 in general, and that did so particularly promote 
 the pleasure of the two so dear to her. 
 
 I rather wonder Julia is not in love with 
 Henry,'' was her observation to Mary. 
 
 " I dare say she is,'' replied Mary, coldly. I 
 imagine both sisters are." 
 
 ^^Both! no, no, that must not be. Do not give 
 him a hint of it. Think of Mr. Eushworth." 
 
 You had better tell Miss Bertram to think of 
 Mr. Kushworth. It may do her some good. I 
 often think of Mr. Rushworth's property and 
 independence, and wish them in other hands; 
 but I never think of him. A man might rep- 
 resent the county with such an estate; a man 
 might escape a profession and represent the 
 county." 
 
 ^'I dare say he will be in parliament soon. 
 When Sir Thomas comes, I dare say he will be in 
 for some borough; but there has been nobody to 
 put him in the way of doing anything yet." 
 
 " Sir Thomas is to achieve mighty things when 
 he comes home," said Mary, after a pause. ^^Do 
 
212 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 you remember Hawkins Browne's ' Address to To- 
 bacco/ in imitation of Pope? — 
 
 ' Blest leaf ! whose aromatic gales dispense 
 To Templars modestj, to Parsons sense * ? 
 
 I will parody them : — 
 
 Blest Knight ! whose dictatorial looks dispense 
 To Children affluence, to Rush worth sense. 
 
 Will not that do, Mrs. Grant? Everything seems 
 to depend upon Sir Thomas's return." 
 
 You will find his consequence very just and 
 reasonable when you see him in his family, I as- 
 sure you. I do not think we do so well without 
 him. He has a fine, dignified manner, which suits 
 the head of such a house, and keeps everybody in 
 their place. Lady Bertram seems more of a cipher 
 now than when he is at home ; and nobody else can 
 keep Mrs. ISTorris in order. But, Mary, do not 
 fancy that Maria Bertram cares for Henry. I am 
 sure Julia does not, or she would not have flirted 
 as she did last night with Mr. Yates; and though 
 he and Maria are very good friends, I think she 
 likes Sotherton too well to be inconstant." 
 
 I would not give much for Mr. Eushworth's 
 chance, if Henry stepped in before the articles 
 were signed." 
 
 " If you have such a suspicion, something must 
 be done; and as soon as the play is all over, we 
 will talk to him seriously, and make him know his 
 own mind; and if he means nothing, we will send 
 him off, though he is Henry, for a time." 
 
 Julia did suffer, however, though Mrs. Grant 
 discerned it not, and though it escaped the notice 
 
MANSFIELD PARK 
 
 213 
 
 of many of her own family likewise. She had 
 loved, she did love still, and she had all the suffer- 
 ing which a warm temper and a high spirit were 
 likely to endure under the disappointment of a 
 dear though irrational hope, with a strong sense 
 of ill-usage. Her heart was sore and angry, and 
 she was capable only of angry consolations. The 
 sister with whom she was used to be on easy terms 
 was now become her greatest enemy: they were 
 alienated from each other; and Julia was not su- 
 perior to the hope of some distressing end to the 
 attentions which were still carrying on there, 
 some punishment to Maria for conduct so shame- 
 ful towards herself as well as towards Mr. Eush- 
 worth. With no material fault of temper, or 
 difference of opinion, to prevent their being very 
 good friends while their interests were the same, 
 the sisters, under such a trial as this, had not af- 
 fection or principle enough to make them merciful 
 or just, to give them honor or compassion. Maria 
 felt her triumph, and pursued her purpose careless 
 of Julia; and Julia could never see Maria distin- 
 guished by Henry Crawford without trusting that 
 it would create jealousy, and bring a public dis- 
 turbance at last. 
 
 Fanny saw and pitied much of this in Julia; 
 but there was no outward fellowship between 
 them. Julia made no communication, and Fanny 
 took no liberties. They were two solitary suffer- 
 ers, or connected only by Fanny's consciousness. 
 
 The inattention of the two brothers and the 
 aunt to Julia's discomposure, and their blindness 
 to its true cause, must be imputed to the fulness 
 
214 
 
 MANSEIELD PARK. 
 
 of their own minds. They were totallr preoccu- 
 pied. Tom was engrossed by the concerns of his 
 theatre, and saw nothing that did not immedi- 
 ately relate to it. Edmund, between his theatri- 
 cal and his real part, between Miss Crawford's 
 claims and his own conduct, betw^een love and 
 consistency^, was equally unobservant; and Mrs. 
 Norris was too busy in contriving and directing 
 the general little matters of the company, super- 
 intending their various dresses with economical 
 expedient, for which nobody thanked her, and 
 saving, with delighted integrity, half-a^crown 
 here and there to the absent Sir Thomas, to have 
 leisure for watching the behavior or guarding 
 the happiness of his daughters. 
 
CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 Etorything was now in a regular train, — theatre, 
 actors, actresses, and dresses were all getting 
 forward; but though no other great impediments 
 arose, Eanny found, before many days were past, 
 that it was not all uninterrupted enjoyment to 
 the party themselves, and that she had not to 
 witness the continuance of such unanimity and 
 delight as had been almost too much for her at 
 first. Everybody began to have their vexation. 
 Edmund had many. Entirely against his judg- 
 ment, a scene-painter arrived from town, and was 
 at work, much to the increase of the expenses, 
 and, what was worse, of the edaty of their pro- 
 ceedings ; and his brother, instead of being really 
 guided by him as to the privacy of the represen- 
 tation, was giving an invitation to every family 
 who came in his way. Tom himself began to 
 fret over the scene-painter's slow progress, and to 
 feel the miseries of waiting. He had learned his 
 part, — all his parts, — for he took every trifling 
 one that could be united with the Butler, and be- 
 gan to be impatient to be acting; and every day 
 thus unemployed was tending to increase his 
 sense of the insignificance of all his parts to- 
 gether, and make him more ready to regret that 
 some other play had not been chosen. 
 
216 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 Fanny, being always a very courteous listener, 
 and often the only listener at hand, came in for 
 the complaints and distresses of most of them. 
 She knew that Mr. Yates was in general thought 
 to rant dreadfully; that Mr. Yates was disap- 
 pointed in Henry Crawford; that Tom Bertram 
 spoke so quick he would be unintelligible; that 
 Mrs. Grant spoiled everything by laughing; that 
 Edmund was behindhand with his part, and 
 that it was misery to have anything to do with 
 Mr. Rushworth, who was wanting a prompter 
 through every speech. She knew, also, that poor 
 Mr. E-ushworth could seldom get anybody to re- 
 hearse with him : his complaint came before her 
 as well as the rest; and so decided to her eye was 
 her cousin Maria's avoidance of him^ and so need- 
 lessly often the rehearsal of the first scene between 
 her and Mr. Crawford, that she had soon all the 
 terror of other complaints from him. So far from 
 being all satisfied and all enjojdng, she found 
 everybody requiring something they had not, and 
 giving occasion of discontent to the others. Every- ^ 
 body had a part either too long or too short; no- 
 body w^ould attend as they ought, nobody would 
 remember on which side they were to come in, 
 nobody but the complainer would observe any 
 directions. 
 
 Fanny believed herself to derive as much inno- 
 cent enjoyment from the play as any of them; 
 Henry Crawford acted well, and it was a pleasure 
 to her to creep into the theatre, and attend the 
 rehearsal of the first act, in spite of the feelings 
 it excited in some speeches for Maria. Maria she 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 217 
 
 also thought acted well, — too well ; and after 
 the first rehearsal or two, Fanny began to be their 
 only audience, and sometimes as prompter, some- 
 times as spectator, was often very useful. As far 
 as she could judge, Mr. Crawford was considerably 
 the best actor of all; he had more confidence than 
 Edmund, more judgment than Tom, more talent 
 and taste than Mr. Yates. She did not like him 
 as a man, but she must admit him to be the best 
 actor, and on this point there were not many who 
 differed from her. Mr. Yates, indeed, exclaimed 
 against his tameness and insipidity; and the day 
 came at last, when Mr. Eushworth turned to her 
 with a black look, and said: " Do you think there 
 is anything so very fine in all this? Eor the life 
 and soul of me, I cannot admire him; and be- 
 tween ourselves, to see such an undersized, little, 
 mean-looking man set up for a fine actor, is very 
 ridiculous in my opinion." 
 
 From this moment there was a return of his for- 
 mer jealousy, which Maria, from increasing hopes 
 of Crawford, was at little pains to remove ; and the 
 chances of Mr. Kushworth's ever attaining to the 
 knowledge of his two-and-forty speeches became 
 much less. As to his ever making anything toler- 
 able of them, nobodj^ had the smallest idea of that 
 except his mother, — she, indeed, regretted that 
 his part was not more considerable, and deferred 
 coming over to Mansfield till they were forward 
 enough in their rehearsal to comprehend all his 
 scenes; but the others aspired at nothing beyond 
 his remembering the catchword, and the first line of 
 his speech, and being able to follow the prompter 
 
218 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 ^ through the rest. Panny, in her pity and kind- 
 heartedness, was at great pains to teach him how 
 to learn, giving him all the helps and directions in 
 her power, trying to make an artificial memory for 
 him, and learning every word of his part herself, 
 but without his being much the forwarder. 
 
 Many uncomfortable, anxious, apprehensive feel- 
 ings she certainly had; but with all these, and 
 other claims on her time and attention, she was as 
 far from finding herself without employment or 
 utility amongst them, as without a companion in 
 uneasiness ; quite as far from having no demand on 
 her leisure as on her compassion. The gloom of 
 her first anticipations was proved to have been un- 
 founded. She was occasionally useful to all; she 
 was perhaps as much at peace as any. 
 
 There was a great deal of needlework to be done, 
 moreover, in which her help was wanted; and that 
 Mrs. Norris thought her quite as well off as the 
 rest, was evident by the manner in which she 
 claimed it: ^^Come, Fanny, she cried, ^/ these 
 are fine times for you; but you must not be always 
 walking from one room to the other, and doing the 
 lookings on, at your ease, in this way, — I want 
 you here. I have been slaving myself till I can 
 hardly stand, to contrive Mr. Kushworth's cloak 
 without sending for any more satin; and now I 
 think you may give me your help in putting it 
 together. There are but three seams; you may do 
 them in a trice. It would be lucky for me if I had 
 nothing but the executive part to do. You are 
 best off, I can tell you; but if nobody did more 
 than you, we should not get on very fast." 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 219 
 
 Fanny took tlie work very quietly, without 
 attempting any defence; but her kinder aunt 
 Bertram observed on her behalf, — 
 
 " One cannot wonder, sister, that Fanny should 
 be delighted; it is all new to her, you know: 
 you and I used to be very fond of a play ourselves, 
 and so am I still; and as soon as I am a little 
 more at leisure, I mean to look in at their rehear- 
 sals too. What is the play about, Fanny? You 
 have never told me." 
 
 ^^Oh, sister, pray do not ask her now; for Fanny 
 is not one of those who can talk and work at the 
 same time. It is about Lovers' Vows.'' 
 
 ^^I believe," said Fanny to her aunt Bertram, 
 " there will be three acts rehearsed to-morrow even- 
 ing, and that will give you an opportunity of 
 seeing all the actors at once." 
 
 ' ' You had better stay till the curtain is hung, ' ' 
 interposed Mrs. Norris; ^Hhe curtain will be 
 hung in a day or two, — there is very little sense 
 in a play without a curtain, — and I am much mis- 
 taken if you do not find it draw up into very 
 handsome festoons." 
 
 Lady Bertram seemed quite resigned to waiting. 
 Fanny did not share her aunt's composure; she 
 thought of the morrow a great deal, — for if the 
 three acts were rehearsed, Edmund and Miss Craw- 
 ford would then be acting together for the first 
 time; the third act would bring a scene between 
 them which interested her most particularly, and 
 which she was longing and dreading to see how 
 they would perform. The whole subject of it was 
 love, — a marriage of love was to be described by 
 
220 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 the gentleman, and very little short of a declaration 
 of love be made by the lady. 
 
 She had read and read the scene again with 
 many painful, many wondering emotions, and 
 looked forward to their representation of it as a 
 circumstance almost too interesting. She did not 
 believe they had yet rehearsed it, even in private. 
 
 The morrow came, the plan for the evening con- 
 tinued, and Fanny's consideration of it did not be- 
 come less agitated. She worked very diligently 
 under her aunt's directions, but her diligence and 
 her silence concealed a very absent, anxious mind; 
 and about noon she made her escape with her work 
 to the East room, that she might have no concern 
 in another and, as she deemed it, most unneces- 
 sary rehearsal of the first act, which Henry Craw- 
 ford was just proposing, desirous at once of having 
 her time to herself and of avoiding the sight of 
 Mr. Eushworth. A glimpse, as she passed through 
 the hall, of the two ladies walking up from the 
 Parsonage made no change in her wish of retreat, 
 and she worked and meditated in the East room, 
 undisturbed, for a quarter of an hour, when a gen- 
 tle tap at the door was followed by the entrance 
 of Miss Crawford. 
 
 Am I right? Yes; this is the East room. My 
 dear Miss Price, I beg your pardon, but I have 
 made my way to you on purpose to entreat your 
 help." 
 
 Fanny, quite surprised, endeavored to show her- 
 self mistress of the room by her civilities, and 
 looked at the bright bars of her empty grate with 
 concern. 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 221 
 
 Thank you, — I am quite warm, very warm. 
 Allow me to stay here a little while, and do have 
 the goodness to hear me my third act. I have 
 hrought my book, and if you would but rehearse it 
 with me, I should be so obliged! I came here to- 
 day intending to rehearse it with Edmund — by 
 ourselves — against the evening, but he is not in 
 the way ; and if he were, I do not think I could go 
 through it with him till I have hardened myself a 
 little, for really there is a speech or two — You 
 will be so good, won^t you? 
 
 Fann}^ was most civil in her assurances, though 
 she could not give them in a very steady voice. 
 
 Have you ever happened to look at the part I 
 mean? continued Miss Crawford, opening her 
 book. ^^Here it i-s. I did not think much of it 
 at first ; but, upon my word — There, look at 
 that speech, and that and that ! How am I ever to 
 look him in the face and say such things? Could 
 you do it? But then he is your cousin, which 
 makes all the difference. You must rehearse it 
 with me, that I may fancy you him, and get on by 
 degrees. You have a look of his sometimes.'' 
 
 Have I? I will do my best with the greatest 
 readiness; but I must read the part, for I can say 
 very little of it.'' 
 
 ^^None of it, I suppose. You are to have the 
 book, of course. 'Now for it. We must have two 
 chairs at hand for you to bring forward to the front 
 of the stage. There — very good school-room chairs, 
 not made for a theatre, I dare say; much more 
 fitted for little girls to sit and kick their feet 
 against when they are learning a lesson. What 
 
222 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 would your governess and your uncle say to see 
 tliem used for such a purpose? Could Sir Thomas 
 look in upon us just now, he would bless himself, 
 for we are rehearsing all over the house. Yates is 
 storming away in the dining-room. I heard him 
 as I came upstairs ; and the theatre is engaged of 
 course by those indefatigable rehearsers, Agatha 
 and Frederick. If they are not perfect, I shall be 
 surprised. By the by, I looked in upon them five 
 minutes ago, and it happened to be exactly at one 
 of the times when they were trying not to embrace, 
 and Mr.- Rushworth was with me. I thought he 
 began to look a little queer, so I turned it off as 
 well as I could, by whispering to him, ^ We shall 
 have an excellent Agatha; there is something so 
 maternal in her manner, so completely maternal 
 in her voice and countenance.' Was not that well 
 done of me? He brightened up directly. Now 
 for my soliloquy. 
 
 She began, and Fanny joined in, with all the 
 modest feeling which the idea of representing Ed- 
 mund was so strongly calculated to inspire, but 
 with looks and voice so truly feminine as to be no 
 very good picture of a man. With such an Anhalt, 
 however. Miss Crawford had courage enough; and 
 they had got through half the scene, when a tap 
 at the door brought a pause, and the entrance of 
 Edmund, the next moment, suspended it all. 
 
 Surprise, consciousness, and pleasure appeared in 
 each of the three on this unexpected meeting; and 
 as Edmund was come on the very same business 
 that had brought Miss Crawford, consciousness 
 and pleasure were likely to be more than momen- 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 223 
 
 tary in them. He, too, had his book, and was 
 seeking Fanny, to ask her to rehearse with him, 
 and help him to prepare for the evening, without 
 knowing Miss Crawford to he in the house; and 
 great was the joy and animation of being thus 
 thrown together, of comparing schemes, and sym- 
 pathizing in praise of Fanny's kind offices. 
 
 She could not equal them in their warmth. 
 Her spirits sank under the glow of theirs, and she 
 felt herself becoming too nearly nothing to both, 
 to have any comfort in having been sought by 
 either. They must now rehearse together. Ed- 
 mund proposed, urged, entreated it, till the 
 lady, not very unwilling at first, could refuse no 
 longer, — and Fanny was wanted only to prompt 
 and observe them. She was invested, indeed, 
 with the office of judge and critic, and earnestly 
 desired to exercise it and tell them all their faults ; 
 but from doing so every feeling within her shrank; 
 she could not, would not, dared not attempt it: 
 had she been otlierwise qualified for criticism, her 
 conscience must have restrained her from ventur- 
 ing at disapprobation. She believed herself to 
 feel too much of it in the aggregate for honesty or 
 safety in particulars. To prompt them must be 
 enough for her; and it was sometimes more than 
 enough, for she could not always pay attention to 
 the book. In watching them she forgot herself; 
 and, agitated by the increasing spirit of Edmund's 
 manner, had once closed the page and turned away 
 exactly as he wanted help. It was imputed to 
 very reasonable weariness, and she was thanked 
 and pitied; but she deserved their pity more than 
 
224 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 she hoped they would ever surmise. At last the 
 scene was over, and Fanny forced herself to add 
 her praise to the compliments each was giving the 
 other; and when again alone, and able to recall 
 the whole, she was inclined to believe their per- 
 formance would, indeed, have such nature and 
 feeling in it as must insure their credit, and make 
 it a very suffering exhibition to herself. What- 
 ever might be its effect, however, she must stand 
 the brunt of it again that very day. 
 
 The first regular rehearsal of the three first acts 
 was certainly to take place in the evening: Mrs. 
 Grant and the Crawfords were engaged to return 
 for that purpose as soon as they could after dinner ; 
 and every one concerned was looking forward with 
 eagerness. There seemed a general diffusion of 
 cheerfulness on the occasion: Tom was enjoying 
 such an advance towards the end, Edmund was in 
 spirits from the morning's rehearsal, and little 
 vexations seemed everywhere smoothed away. All 
 were alert and impatient; the ladies moved soon, 
 the gentlemen soon followed them, and, with the 
 exception of Lady Bertram, Mrs. Norris, and 
 Julia, everybody was in the theatre at an early 
 hour, and, having lighted it up as well as its 
 unfinished state admitted, were waiting only the 
 arrival of Mrs. Grant and the Crawfords to begin. 
 
 They did not wait long for the Crawfords, but 
 there was no Mrs. Grant. She could not come. 
 Dr. Grant, professing an indisposition, for which 
 he had little credit with his fair sister-in-law, 
 could not spare his wife. 
 
 ^'Dr. Grant is ill/' said she, with mock solem- 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 225 
 
 nity. He has been ill ever since he did not eat 
 any of the pheasant to-day. He fancied it tough, 
 sent away his plate, and has been suffering ever 
 since." 
 
 Here was disappointment! Mrs. Grant's non- 
 attendance was sad indeed. Her pleasant manners 
 and cheerful conformity made her always valu- 
 able amongst them; but now she was absolutely 
 necessary. They could not act, they could not 
 rehearse with any satisfaction without her. The 
 comfort of the whole evening was destroyed. 
 What was to be done? Tom, as Cottager, was in 
 despair. After a pause of perplexity, some eyes 
 began to be turned towards Fanny, and a voice or 
 two to say, " If Miss Price would be so good as to 
 read the part.'' She was immediately surrounded 
 by supplications, — everybody asked it ; even Ed- 
 mund said, ^^Do, Fanny, if it is not very dis- 
 agreeable to you." 
 
 But Fanny still hung back. She could not 
 endure the idea of it. Why was not Miss Craw- 
 ford to be applied to as well? Or why had not she 
 rather gone to her own room, as she had felt to be 
 safest, instead of attending the rehearsal at all? 
 She had known it would irritate and distress her, 
 — she had known it her duty to keep away. She 
 was properly punished. 
 
 You have only to read the part," said Henry 
 Crawford, with renewed entreaty. 
 
 ^^And I do believe she can say every word of 
 it," added Maria, ^^for she could put Mrs. Grant 
 right the other day in twenty places. Fanny, I 
 am sure you know the part." 
 
 VOL. I. — 15 
 
226 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 Fanny could not say she did not; and as they 
 all persevered, — as Edmund repeated his wish, and 
 with a look of even fond dependence on her good- 
 nature, — she must yield. She would do her best. 
 Everybody wa;S satisfied; and she was left to the 
 tremors of a most palpitating heart, while the 
 others prepared to begin. 
 
 They did begin; and being too much engaged 
 in their own noise to be struck by an unusual 
 noise in the other part of the house, had proceeded 
 some way, when the door of the room was thrown 
 open, and Julia, appearing at it, with a. face all 
 aghast, exclaimed, ^^My father is come! He is 
 in the hall at this moment.'^ 
 
CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 How is the consternation of the party to be de- 
 scribed? To the greater number it was a moment 
 of absolute horror. Sir Thomas in the house! 
 All felt the instantaneous conviction. Not a hope 
 of imposition or mistake was harbored anywhere. 
 Julia's looks were an evidence of the fact that 
 made it indisputable; and after the first starts and 
 exclamations, not a word was spoken for half a 
 minute; each with an altered countenance was 
 looking at some other, and almost each was feeling 
 it a stroke the most unwelcome, most ill-timed, 
 most appalling! Mr. Yates might consider it 
 only as a vexatious interruption for the evening, and 
 Mr. E/Ushworth might imagine it a blessing; but 
 every other heart was sinking under some degree 
 of self-condemnation or undefined alarm, — every 
 other heart was suggesting, ^^What will become 
 of us? What is to be done now?" It was a 
 terrible pause; and terrible to every ear were the 
 corroborating sounds of opening doors and passing 
 footsteps. 
 
 Julia was the first to move and speak again. 
 Jealousy and bitterness had been suspended: self- 
 ishness was lost in the common cause; but at the 
 moment of her appearance, Frederick was listen- 
 ing with looks of devotion to Agatha's narra- 
 
228 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 tive, and pressing her hand to his heart; and as 
 soon as she could notice this, and see that in spite 
 of the shock of her words, he still kept his station 
 and retained her sister's hand, her wounded heart 
 swelled again with injury, and, looking as red as 
 she had been white before, she turned out of the 
 room, saying, I need not be afraid of appearing 
 before him.^' 
 
 Her going roused the rest; and at the same 
 moment the two brothers stepped forward, feeling 
 the necessity of doing something. A very few 
 words between them were sufficient. The case 
 admitted no difference of opinion; they must go 
 to the drawing-room directly. Maria joined them 
 with the same intent, just then the stoutest of the 
 three ; for the very circumstance which had driven 
 Julia away was to her the sweetest support. 
 Henry Crawford's retaining her hand at such a 
 moment, a moment of such peculiar proof and im- 
 portance, was worth ages of doubt and anxiety. 
 She hailed it as an earnest of the most serious 
 determination, and was equal even to encounter 
 her father. They walked off, utterly heedless of 
 Mr. Eushworth's repeated question of, Shall I 
 go too? Had not I better go too? Will not it 
 be right for me to go too? " but they were no 
 sooner through the door than Henry Crawford 
 undertook to answer the anxious inquiry, and, 
 encouraging him by all means to pay his respects 
 to Sir Thomas without delay, sent him after the 
 others with delighted haste. 
 
 Fanny was left with only the Crawfords and Mr. 
 Yates. She had been quite overlooked by her 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 229 
 
 cousins; and as her own opinion of lier claims on 
 Sir Thomas's affection was much too humble to 
 give her any idea of classing herself with his 
 children, she was glad to remain behind and gain 
 a little breathing-time. Her agitation and alarm 
 exceeded all that was endured by the rest, by the 
 right of a disposition which not even innocence 
 could keep from suffering. She was nearly faint- 
 ing; all her former habitual dread of her uncle was 
 returning, and with it compassion for him and for 
 almost every one of the party on the development 
 before him, — with solicitude on Edmund's account 
 indescribable. She had found a seat, where in 
 excessive trembling she was enduring all these 
 fearful thoughts, while the other three, no longer 
 under any restraint, were giving vent to their 
 feelings of vexation, lamenting over such an 
 unlooked-for, premature arrival as a most untoward 
 event, and without mercy wishing poor Sir Thomas 
 had been twice as long on his passage, or were 
 still in Antigua. 
 
 The Crawfords were more warm on the subject 
 than Mr. Yates, from better understanding the 
 family, and judging more clearly of the mischief 
 that must ensue. The ruin of the play was to 
 them a certainty : they felt the total destruction of 
 the scheme to be inevitably at hand; while Mr. 
 Yates considered it only as a temporary interrup- 
 tion, a disaster for the evening, and could even 
 suggest the possibility of the rehearsal being re- 
 newed after tea, when the bustle of receiving Sir 
 Thomas were over, and he might be at leisure to 
 be amused by it. The Crawfords laughed at the 
 
230 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 idea; and having soon agreed on the propriety of 
 their walking quietly home and leaving the family 
 to themselves, proposed Mr. Yates's accompanying 
 them and spending the evening at the Parsonage. 
 But Mr. Yates, having never heen with those who 
 thought much of parental claims or family confi- 
 dence, could not perceive that anything of the 
 kind was necessary ; and therefore, thanking them, 
 said he preferred remaining where he was, that 
 he might pay his respects to the old gentleman 
 handsomely, since he was come; and besides, he 
 did not think it would be fair by the others to 
 have everybody run away. 
 
 Fanny was just beginning to collect herself, and 
 to feel that if she stayed longer behind it might 
 seem disrespectful, when this point was settled, 
 and being commissioned with the brother and 
 sister's apology, saw them preparing to go, as she 
 quitted the room herself to perform the dreadful 
 duty of appearing before her uncle. 
 
 Too soon did she find herself at the drawing- 
 room door; and after pausing a moment for w^hat 
 she knew would not come, for a courage which the 
 outside of no door had ever supplied to her, she 
 turned the lock in desperation, and the lights of 
 the drawing-room and all the collected family were 
 before her. As she entered, her own name caught 
 her ear. 
 
 Sir Thomas was at that moment looking round 
 him and saying, ^^But where is Fanny? Why 
 do not I see my little Fanny?" and on perceiv- 
 ing her, came forward with a kindness which as- 
 tonished and penetrated her, calling her his dear 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 231 
 
 Fanny, kissing her affectionately and observing 
 with decided pleasure how much she was grown! 
 Fanny knew not how to feel, nor where to look. 
 She was quite oppressed. He had never been so 
 kind, so very kind to her in his life. His manner 
 seemed changed; his voice was quick from the 
 agitation of joy, and all that had been awful in 
 his dignity seemed lost in tenderness. He led her 
 nearer the light, and looked at her again, — in- 
 quired particularly after her health, and then, cor- 
 recting himself, observed that he need not inquire, 
 for her appearance spoke sufficiently on that point. 
 A fine blush having succeeded the previous pale- 
 ness of her face, he was justified in his belief of 
 her equal improvement in health and beauty. He 
 inquired next after her family, especially William; 
 and his kindness altogether was such as made her 
 reproach herself for loving him so little, and think- 
 ing his return a misfortune; and when on having 
 courage to lift her eyes to his face, she saw that he 
 was grown thinner, and had the burnt, fagged, 
 worn look of fatigue and a hot climate, every 
 tender feeling was increased, and she was miser- 
 able in considering how much unsuspected vexation 
 was probably ready to burst on him. 
 
 Sir Thomas was indeed the life of the party, 
 who at his suggestion now seated themselves 
 round the fire. He had the best right to be the 
 talker; and the delight of his sensations in being 
 again in his own house, in the centre of his family, 
 after such a separation, made him communicative 
 and chatty in a verj^ unusual degree ; and he was 
 ready to give every information as to his voyage. 
 
232 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 and answer every question of his two sons almost 
 before it was put. His business in Antigua had 
 latterly been prosperously rapid, and he came 
 directly from Liverpool, having had an opportu- 
 nity of making his passage thither in a private 
 vessel, instead of waiting for the packet; and all 
 the little particulars of his proceedings and events, 
 his arrivals and departures, were most promptly 
 delivered, as he sat by Lady Bertram and looked 
 with heartfelt satisfaction on the faces around him, 
 — interrupting himself more than once, however, 
 to remark on his good fortune in finding them all 
 at home, — coming unexpectedly as he did, — all 
 collected together exactly as he could have wished, 
 but dared not depend on. Mr. Kushworth was not 
 forgotten; a most friendly reception and warmth 
 of hand-shaking had already met him, and with 
 pointed attention he was now included in the ob- 
 jects most intimately connected with Mansfield. 
 There was nothing disagreeable in Mr. Rush- 
 worth's appearance, and Sir Thomas was liking 
 him already. 
 
 By not one of the circle was he listened to with 
 such unbroken, unalloyed enjoyment as by his 
 wife, who was really extremely happy to see him, 
 and whose feelings were so warmed by his sudden 
 arrival as to place her nearer agitation than she 
 had been for the last twenty years. She had been 
 almost fluttered for a few minutes, and still re- 
 mained so sensibly animated as to put away her 
 work, move pug from her side, and give all her 
 attention and all the rest of her sofa to her hus- 
 band. She had no anxieties for anybody to cloud 
 
MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 233 
 
 ter pleasure: her own time had been irreproach- 
 ably spent during his absence; she had done a 
 great deal of carpet work, and made many yards of 
 fringe; and she would have answered as freely for 
 the good conduct and useful pursuits of all the 
 young people as for her own. It was so agreeable 
 to her to see him again and hear him talk, to have 
 her ear amused and her whole comprehension 
 filled by his narratives, that she began particu- 
 larly to feel how dreadfully she must have missed 
 him, and how impossible it would have been for 
 her to bear a lengthened absence. 
 
 Mrs. Korris was by no means to be compared in 
 happiness to her sister. Not that she was incom- 
 moded by many fears of Sir Thomases disapproba- 
 tion when the present state of his house should be 
 known, for her judgment had been so blinded that 
 except by the instinctive caution with which she 
 had whisked away Mr. Eushworth's pink satin 
 cloak as her brother-in-law entered, she could 
 hardly be said to show any sign of alarm; but she 
 was vexed by the manner of his return. It had 
 left her nothing to do. Instead of being sent for 
 out of the room, and seeing him first, and having 
 to spread the happy news through the house. Sir 
 Thomas, with a very reasonable dependence, per- 
 haps, on the nerves of his wife ,and children, had 
 sought no confidant but the butler, and had been 
 following him almost instantaneously into the 
 drawing-room. Mrs. ISTorris felt herself defrauded 
 of an ofiice on which she had always depended, 
 whether his arrival or his death were to be the 
 thing unfolded; and was now trying to be in 9 
 
234 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 bustle without having anything to hustle ahout, 
 and lahoring to he important where nothing was 
 wanted hut tranquillity and silence. Would Sir 
 Thomas have consented to eat, she might have 
 gone to the housekeeper with trouhlesome direc- 
 tions, and insulted the footmen with injunctions 
 of despatch; hut Sir Thomas resolutely declined 
 all dinner : he would take nothing, nothing till tea 
 came, — he would rather wait for tea. Still Mrs. 
 Norris was at intervals urging something differ- 
 ent; and in the most interesting moment of his 
 passage to England, when the alarm of a French 
 privateer was at the height, she hurst through his 
 recital with the proposal of soup. ^^Sure, my 
 dear Sir Thomas, a basin of soup would he a much 
 better thing for you than tea. Do have a basin of 
 soup.'^ 
 
 Sir Thomas could not be provoked. Still the 
 same anxiety for everybody's comfort, my dear 
 Mrs. I^orris,'' was his answer. ^^But indeed I 
 would rather have nothing but tea.'' 
 
 ^^Well, then, Lady Bertram, suppose you speak 
 for tea directly; suppose you hurry Baddeley a lit- 
 tle; he seems behindhand to-night." She carried 
 this point, and Sir Thomas's narrative proceeded. 
 
 At length there was a pause. His immediate 
 communications were exhausted, and it seemed 
 enough to be looking joyfully around him, now at 
 one, now at another of the beloved circle. But the 
 pause was not long : in the elation of her spirits. 
 Lady Bertram became talkative ; and what were the 
 sensations of her children upon hearing her say : 
 
 How do you think the young people have been 
 
MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 235 
 
 amusing themselves lately, Sir Thomas? They 
 have been acting. We have been all alive with 
 acting.'' 
 
 Indeed! and what have you been acting? '' 
 Oh, they '11 tell you all about it." 
 ^^The all will be soon told/' cried Tom, hastily 
 and with affected unconcern ; ^ ' but it is not worth 
 while to bore my father with it now. You will 
 hear enough of it to-morrow, sir. We have just 
 been trying, by way of doing something and 
 amusing my mother, just within the last week, to 
 get up a few scenes, — a mere trifle. We have had 
 such incessant rains almost since October began, 
 that we have been nearly confined to the house for 
 days together. I have hardly taken out a gun 
 since the 3d. Tolerable sport the first three 
 days, but there has been no attempting anything 
 since. The first day I went over Mansfield 
 Wood, and Edmund took the copses beyond Easton, 
 and we brought home six brace between us, and 
 might each have killed six times as many; but we 
 respect your pheasants, sir, I assure you, as much 
 as you could desire. I do not think you will find 
 your woods by any means worse stocked than they 
 were. I never saw Mansfield Wood so full of 
 pheasants in my life as this year. I hope you will 
 take a day's sport there yourself, sir, soon." 
 
 Eor the present the danger was over, and Fanny's 
 sick feelings subsided; but when tea was soon 
 afterwards brought in, and Sir Thomas, getting 
 up, said that he found he could not be any longer 
 in the house without just looking into his own dear 
 room, every agitation was returning. He was gone 
 
236 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 before anything had been said to prepare him for 
 the change he must find there; and a pause of 
 alarm followed his disappearance. Edmund was 
 the first to speak. 
 
 Something must be done," said he. 
 
 ^' It is time to think of our visitors," said Maria, 
 still feeling her hand pressed to Henry Crawford's 
 heart, and caring little for anything else. Where 
 did you leave Miss Crawford, Fanny? " 
 
 Fanny told of their departure, and delivered 
 their message. 
 
 ^^Then poor Yates is all alone," cried Tom. ^^I 
 will go and fetch him. He will be no bad assist- 
 ant when it all comes out." 
 
 To the theatre he went, and reached it just in 
 time to witness the first meeting of his father and 
 his friend. Sir Thomas had been a good deal sur- 
 prised to find candles burning in his room; and 
 on casting his eye round it, to see other symptoms 
 of recent habitation, and a general air of confusion 
 in the furniture. The removal of the bookcase 
 from before the billiard-room door struck him es- 
 pecially; but he had scarcely more than time to 
 feel astonished at all this, before there were sounds 
 from the billiard-room to astonish him still further. 
 Some one was talking there in a very loud accent, 
 — he did not know the voice, — more than talking, 
 almost hallooing. He stepped to the door, re- 
 joicing at that moment in having the means of 
 immediate communication, and opening it, found 
 himself on the stage of the theatre, and opposed to 
 a ranting young man, who appeared likely to knock 
 him down backwards. At the very moment of 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 237 
 
 Yates perceiving Sir Thomas, and giving perhaps 
 the very best start he had ever given in the whole 
 course of his rehearsals, Tom Bertram entered at 
 the other end of the room; and never had he found 
 greater difficulty in keeping his countenance. His 
 father's looks of solemnity and amazement on this 
 his first appearance on any stage, and the gradual 
 metamorphosis of the impassioned Baron Wilden- 
 heim into the well-bred and easy Mr. Yates, mak- 
 ing his bow and apology to Sir Thomas Bertram, 
 was such an exhibition, such a piece of true acting 
 as he would not have lost upon any account. It 
 would be the last, — in all probability the last 
 scene on that stage; but he was sure there could 
 not be a finer. The house would close with the 
 greatest eclat. 
 
 There was little time, however, for the indul- 
 gence of any images of merriment. It was neces- 
 sary for him to step forward, too, and assist the 
 introduction; and with many awkward sensations, 
 he did his best. Sir Thomas received Mr. Yates 
 with all the appearance of cordiality which was due 
 to his own character, but was really as far from 
 pleased with the necessity of the acquaintance as 
 with the manner of its commencement. Mr. 
 Yates's family and connections were sufficiently 
 known to him to render his introduction as the 
 
 particular friend," another of the hundred par- 
 ticular friends of his son, exceedingly unwelcome; 
 and it needed all the felicity of being again at 
 home, and all the forbearance it could supply, to 
 save Sir Thomas from anger on finding himself 
 thus bewildered in his own house, making part of a 
 
238 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 ridiculous exhibition in the midst of theatrical non- 
 sense, and forced in so untoward a moment to admit 
 the acquaintance of a young man whom he felt sure 
 of disapproving, and whose easy indifference and 
 volubility in the course of the first five minutes 
 seemed to mark him the more at home of the two. 
 
 Tom understood his father's thoughts, and 
 heartily wishing he might be always as well dis- 
 posed to give them but partial expression, began to 
 see more clearly than he had ever done before, that 
 there might be some ground of offence, — that there 
 might be some reason for the glance his father gave 
 towards the ceiling and stucco of the room; and 
 that when he inquired with mild gravity after the 
 fate of the billiard-table, he was not proceeding be- 
 yond a very allowable curiosity. A few minutes 
 were enough for such unsatisfactory sensations on 
 each side; and Sir Thomas, having exerted him- 
 self so far as to speak a few words of calm appro- 
 bation, in reply to an eager appeal of Mr. Yates, as 
 to the happiness of the arrangement, the three gen- 
 tlemen returned to the drawing-room together. Sir 
 Thomas with an increase of gravity which was not 
 lost on all. 
 
 ^^I come from your theatre," said he, com- 
 posedly, as he sat down; ^^I found myself in it 
 rather unexpectedly. Its vicinity to my own room 
 — but in every respect, indeed, it took me by sur- 
 prise, as I had not the smallest suspicion of your 
 acting having assumed so serious a character. It 
 appears a neat job, however, as far as I could judge 
 by candle-light, and does my friend Christopher 
 Jackson credit.'' And then he would have changed 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 239 
 
 the subject, and sipped his coffee in peace over do- 
 mestic matters of a calmer hue; but Mr. Yates, 
 without discernment to catch Sir Thomas's mean- 
 ing, or diffidence, or delicacy, or discretion enough 
 to allow him to lead the discourse while he min- 
 gled among the others with the least obtrusiveness 
 himself, would keep him on the topic of the theatre, 
 would torment him with questions and remarks 
 relative to it, and finally would make him hear the 
 whole history of his disappointment at Ecclesford. 
 Sir Thomas listened most politely, but found much 
 to offend his ideas of decorum, and confirm his ill 
 opinion of Mr. Yates's habits of thinking, from 
 the beginning to the end of the story; and when it 
 was over, could give him no other assurance of 
 sympathy than what a slight bow conveyed. 
 
 ^^This was, in fact, the origin of our acting," 
 said Tom, after a moment's thought. My friend 
 Yates brought the infection from Ecclesford, and 
 it spread — as those things always spread, you 
 know, sir — the faster, probably, from your having 
 so often encouraged the sort of thing in us for- 
 merly. It was like treading old ground again." 
 
 Mr. Yates took the subject from his friend as 
 soon as possible, and immediately gave Sir 
 Thomas an account of what they had done and 
 were doing; told him of the gradual increase of 
 their views, the happy conclusion of their first dif- 
 ficulties, and present promising state of affairs; 
 relating everything with so blind an interest as 
 made him not only totally unconscious of the 
 uneasy movements of many of his friends as 
 they sat, the change of countenance, the fidget, 
 
240 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 the hem ! of unquietness, but prevented him even 
 from seeing the expression of the face on which his 
 own eyes were fixed, — from seeing Sir Thomas's 
 dark brow contract as he looked with inquiring 
 earnestness at his daughters and Edmund, dwell- 
 ing particularly on the latter, and speaking a 
 language, a remonstrance, a reproof which he felt 
 at his heart. Not less acutely was it felt by 
 Fanny, who had edged back her chair behind her 
 aunt's end of the sofa, and, screened from notice 
 herself, saw all that was passing before her. Such 
 a look of reproach at Edmund from his father she 
 could never have expected to witness; and to feel 
 that it was in any degree deserved was an aggra- 
 vation indeed. Sir Thomas's look implied, ^^On 
 your judgment, Edmund, I depended; what have 
 you been about?'' She knelt in spirit to her 
 uncle, and her bosom swelled to utter, ^^Oh, not 
 to him! Look so to all the others, but not to 
 him!" 
 
 Mr. Yates was still talking. ^^To own the 
 truth. Sir Thomas, we were in the middle of a 
 rehearsal when you arrived this evening. We 
 were going through the three first acts, and not 
 unsuccessfully upon the whole. Our company is 
 now so dispersed, from the Crawfords being gone 
 home, that nothing more can be done to-night; 
 but if you will give us the honor of your company 
 to-morrow evening, I should not be afraid of the 
 result. We bespeak your indulgence, you under- 
 stand, as young performers; we bespeak your 
 indulgence." 
 
 ^*My indulgence shall be given, sir," replied 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 241 
 
 Sir Thomas, gravely, ^^but without any other re- 
 hearsal.^' And with a relenting smile he added, 
 come home to be happy and indulgent.'' 
 Then turning away towards any or all of the rest, 
 he tranquilly said: ^^Mr. and Miss Crawford were 
 mentioned in my last letters from Mansfield. Do 
 you find them agreeable acquaintance?" 
 
 Tom was the only one at all ready with an an- 
 swer; but he, being entirely without particular re- 
 gard for either, without jealousy either in love 
 or acting, could speak very handsomely of both. 
 '^Mr. Crawford was a most pleasant, gentleman- 
 like man; his sister a sweet, pretty, elegant, 
 lively girl." 
 
 Mr. Rushworth could be silent no longer. ^^I 
 do not say he is not gentlemanlike, considering; 
 but you should tell your father he is not above 
 five feet eight, or he will be expecting a well- 
 looking man." 
 
 Sir Thomas did not quite understand this, and 
 looked with some surprise at the speaker. 
 
 ^^If I must say what I think," continued Mr. 
 Rushworth, ^^in my opinion it is very disagree- 
 able to be always rehearsing. It is having too 
 much of a good thing. I am not so fond of act- 
 ing as I was at first. I think we are a great deal 
 better employed, sitting comfortably here among 
 ourselves, and doing nothing." 
 
 Sir Thomas looked again, and then replied with 
 an approving smile : ''1 am happy to find our sen- 
 timents on this subject so much the same. It 
 gives me sincere satisfaction. That I should be 
 cautious and quick-sighted, and feel many scriv 
 
 VOL. I. — 16 
 
242 
 
 MANSFIELD PAEK. 
 
 pies which my children do not feel, is perfectly 
 natural ; and equally so that my value for domes- 
 tic tranquillity, for a home which shuts out noisy 
 pleasures, should much exceed theirs. But at 
 your time of life to feel all this is a most favor- 
 able circumstance for yourself and for everybody 
 connected with you; and I am sensible of the im- 
 portance of having an ally of such weight.'' 
 
 Sir Thomas meant to be giving Mr. Eush- 
 worth's opinion in better words than he could 
 find himself. He was aware that he must not 
 expect a genius in Mr. Eushworth; but as a 
 well-judging, steady young man, with better no- 
 tions than his elocution would do justice to, he 
 intended to value him very highly. It was im- 
 possible for many of the others not to smile. 
 Mr. Eush worth hardly knew what to do with so 
 much meaning; but by looking, as he really felt, 
 most exceedingly pleased with Sir Thomas's good 
 opinion, and saying scarcely anything, he did his 
 best towards preserving that good opinion a little 
 longer. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Edmund's first object the next morning was to see 
 his father alone, and give him a fair statement of 
 the whole acting scheme, defending his own share 
 in it as far only as he could then in a soberer mo- 
 ment feel his motives to deserve, and acknowledg- 
 ing, with perfect ingenuousness, that his concession 
 had been attended with such partial good as to 
 make his judgment in it very doubtful. He was 
 anxious while vindicating himself to say nothing 
 unkind of the others; but there was only one 
 amongst them whose conduct he could mention 
 without some necessity of defence or palliation. 
 ^^We have all been more or less to blame," said 
 he, every one of us excepting Fanny. Eanny is 
 the only one who has judged rightly throughout, 
 who has been consistent. Her feelings have been 
 steadily against it from first to last. She never 
 ceased to think of what was due to you. You will 
 find Eanny everything you could wish.'' 
 
 Sir Thomas saw all the impropriety of such a 
 scheme among such a party and at such a time as 
 strongly as his son had ever supposed he must; he 
 felt it too much, indeed, for many words; and 
 having shaken hands with Edmund, meant to try 
 to lose the disagreeable impression, and forget how 
 much he had been forgotten himself as soon as he 
 
244 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 could, after the house had been cleared of every 
 object enforcing the remembrance, and restored to 
 its proper state. He did not enter into any re- 
 monstrance with his other children: he was more 
 willing to believe they felt their error, than to run 
 the risk of investigation. The reproof of an im- 
 mediate conclusion of everything, the sweep of 
 every preparation would be sufficient. 
 
 There was one person, however, in the house whom 
 he could not leave to learn his sentiments merely 
 through his conduct. He could not help merely 
 giving Mrs. Norris a hint of his having hoped 
 that her advice might have been interposed to 
 prevent what her judgment must certainly have 
 disapproved. The young people had been very 
 inconsiderate in forming the plan; they ought to 
 have been capable of a better decision themselves ; 
 but they were young, and, excepting Edmund, he 
 believed, of unsteady characters ; and with greater 
 surprise, therefore, he must regard her acquies- 
 cence in their wrong measures, her countenance of 
 their unsafe amusements, than that such measures 
 and such amusements should have been suggested. 
 Mrs. Norris was a little confounded, and as nearly 
 being silenced as ever she had been in her life; 
 for she was ashamed to confess having never seen 
 any of the impropriety which was so glaring to 
 Sir Thomas, and would not have admitted that her 
 influence was insufficient, — that she might have 
 talked in vain. Her only resource was to get out 
 of the subject as fast as possible, and turn the 
 current of Sir Thomas's ideas into a happier chan- 
 nel. She had a great deal to insinuate in her own 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 245 
 
 praise as to general attention to tlie interest and 
 comfort of his family, much exertion and many 
 sacrifices to glance at in the form of hurried walks 
 and sudden removals from her own fireside, and 
 many excellent hints of distrust and economy to 
 Lady Bertram and Edmund to detail, whereby 
 a most considerable saving had always arisen, 
 and more than one bad servant been detected. 
 But her chief strength lay in Sotherton. Her 
 greatest support and glory was in having formed 
 the connection with the Kushworths. There she 
 was impregnable. She took to herself all the 
 credit of bringing Mr. Eushworth's admiration of 
 Maria to any effect. ^^If I had not been active,'' 
 said she, ^^and made a point of being introduced 
 to his mother, and then prevailed on my sister to 
 pay the first visit, I am as certain as I sit here 
 that nothing would have come of it, — for Mr, 
 Eushworth is the sort of amiable modest young 
 man who wants a great deal of encouragement, and 
 there were girls enough on the catch for him if we 
 had been idle. But I left no stone unturned. I 
 was ready to move heaven and earth to persuade 
 my sister, and at last I did persuade her. You 
 know the distance to Sotherton; it was in the 
 middle of winter, and the roads almost impassable, 
 but I did persuade her.'' 
 
 ' ' I know how great, how justly great your in- 
 fluence is with Lady Bertram and her children, 
 and am the more concerned that it should not have 
 been — " 
 
 ^^My dear Sir Thomas, if you had seen the state 
 of the roads that day! I thought we should never- 
 
246 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 have got througli tliem, thougli we had the foui? 
 horses of course; and poor old coachman would 
 attend us^ out of his great love and kindness, 
 though he was hardly able to sit the box on 
 account of the rheumatism which I had been doc- 
 toring him for ever since Michaelmas. I cured him 
 at last; but he was very bad all the winter, — and 
 this was such a day, I could not help going to him 
 up in his room before we set off to advise him not 
 to venture: he was putting on his wig; so I said, 
 ' Coachman, you had much better not go, your Lady 
 and I shall be very safe; you know how steady 
 Stephen is, and Charles has been upon the leaders 
 so often now that I am sure there is no fear. ^ But, 
 however, I soon found it would not do: he was 
 bent upon going, and as I hate to be worrying 
 and officious, I said no more ; but my heart quite 
 ached for him at every jolt, and when we got into 
 the rough lanes about Stoke, where what with 
 frost and snow upon beds of stones, it was worse 
 than anything you can imagine, I was quite in an 
 agony about him. And then the poor horses too! 
 To see them straining away! You know how I 
 always feel for the horses. And when we got to 
 the bottom of Sandcroft Hill, what do you think I 
 did? You w^ill laugh at me, — but I got out and 
 walked up. I did, indeed. It might not be saving 
 them much, but it was something, and I could not 
 bear to sit at my ease, and be dragged up at the 
 expense of those noble animals. I caught a dread- 
 ful cold, but that I did not regard. My object 
 was accomplished in the visit." 
 
 ^^I hope we shall always think the acquaintance 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 247 
 
 worth any trouble that might be taken to establish 
 it. There is nothing very striking in Mr. Rush- 
 worth's manners, but I was pleased last night 
 with what appeared to be his opinion on one sub- 
 ject, — his decided preference of a quiet family- 
 party to the bustle and confusion of acting. He 
 seemed to feel exactly as one could wish." 
 
 ^^Yes, indeed, and the more you know of him 
 the better you will like him. He is not a shining 
 character, but he has a thousand good qualities; 
 and is so disposed to look up to you, that I am 
 quite laughed at about it, for everybody considers 
 it as my doing. ^ Upon my word, Mrs. l!^orris,' 
 said Mrs. Grant the other day, ' if Mr. Rushworth 
 were a son of your own, he could not hold Sir 
 Thomas in greater respect.' '' 
 
 Sir Thomas gave up the point, foiled by her 
 evasions, disarmed by her flattery; and was obliged 
 to rest satisfied with the conviction that where 
 the present pleasure of those she loved was at 
 stake her kindness did sometimes overpower her 
 judgment. 
 
 It was a busy morning with him. Conversation 
 with any of them occupied but a small part of it. 
 He had to reinstate himself in all the wonted con- 
 cerns of his Mansfield life, to see his steward and 
 his bailiff, — to examine and compute, — and in 
 the intervals of business, to walk into his stables 
 and his gardens and nearest plantations; but 
 active and methodical, he had not only done all 
 this before he resumed his seat as master of the 
 house at dinner, he had also set the carpenter to 
 ivork in pulling down what had been so lately put 
 
248 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 up in the billiard-room, and given the scene- 
 painter his dismissal long enough to justify the 
 pleasing belief of his being then at least as far off 
 as Northampton. The scene-painter was gone, 
 having spoiled only the floor of one room, ruined 
 all the coachman's sponges, and made five of 
 the vmder-servants idle and dissatisfied; and Sir 
 Thomas was in hopes that another day or two 
 would suffice to wipe away every outward memento 
 of what had been, even to the destruction of every 
 unbound copy of Lovers' Vows in the house, for 
 he was burning all that met his eye. 
 
 Mr. Yates was beginning now to understand Sir 
 Thomas's intentions, though as far as ever from 
 understanding their source. He and his friend 
 had been out with their guns the chief of the 
 morning, and Tom had taken the opportunity of 
 explaining, with proper apologies for his father's 
 particularity, what was to be expected. Mr. 
 Yates felt it as acutely as might be supposed. 
 To be a second time disappointed in the same way 
 was an instance of very severe ill-luck; and his 
 indignation was such that had it not been for 
 delicacy towards his friend and his friend's young- 
 est sister, he believed he should certainly attack 
 the Baronet on the absurdity of his proceedings, and 
 argue him into a little more rationality. He be- 
 lieved this very stoutly while he was in Mansfield 
 Wood, and all the way home; but there was a 
 something in Sir Thomas, when they sat round 
 the same table, which made Mr. Yates think it 
 wiser to let him pursue his own way, and feel the 
 folly of it without opposition. He had known 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 249 
 
 many disagreeable fathers before, and often been 
 struck with the inconveniences they occasioned 5 
 but never in the whole course of his life, had he 
 seen one of that class so unintelligibly moral, so 
 infamously tyrannical as Sir Thomas. He was 
 not a man to be endured but for his children's 
 sake, and he might be thankful to his fair daugh- 
 ter Julia that Mr. Yates did yet mean to stay a 
 few days longer under his roof. 
 
 The evening passed with external smoothness, 
 though almost every mind was ruffled; and the 
 music which Sir Thomas called for from his daugh- 
 ters helped to conceal the want of real harmony. 
 Maria was in a good deal of agitation. It was of 
 the utmost consequence to her that Crawford 
 should now lose no time in declaring himself, and 
 she was disturbed that even a day should be gone 
 by without seeming to advance that point. She 
 had been expecting to see him the whole morning, 
 — and all the evening, too, was still expecting 
 him. Mr. Rushworth had set off early with the 
 great news for Sotherton; and she had fondly 
 hoped for such an immediate eclaircissement as 
 might save him the trouble of ever coming back 
 again. But they had seen no one from the Parson- 
 age, — not a creature, — and had heard no tidings 
 beyond a friendly note of congratulation and in- 
 quiry from Mrs. Grant to Lady Bertram. It was 
 the first day, for many, many weeks, in which the 
 families had been wholly divided. Four-and- 
 twenty hours had never passed before, since 
 August began, without bringing them together 
 in some way or other. It was a sad, anxious day,* 
 
250 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 and the morrow, though differing in the sort of 
 evil, did by no means bring less. A few moments 
 of feverish enjoyment were followed by hours of 
 acute suffering. Henry Crawford was again in 
 the house : he walked up with Dr. Grant, who was 
 anxious to pay his respects to Sir Thomas; and at 
 rather an early hour they were ushered into the 
 breakfast-room, where were most of the family. 
 Sir Thomas soon appeared, and Maria saw with 
 delight and agitation the introduction of the man 
 she loved to her father. Her sensations were in- 
 definable, and so were they a few minutes after- 
 wards upon hearing Henry Crawford, who had a 
 chair between herself and Tom, ask the latter in 
 an under voice, whether there were any plan for 
 resuming the play after the present happy inter- 
 ruption (with a courteous glance at Sir Thomas), 
 because in that case he should make a point of 
 returning to Mansfield at any time required by the 
 party: he was going away immediately, being to 
 meet his uncle at Bath without delay; but if there 
 were any prospect of a renewal of Lovers' Vows, 
 he should hold himself positively engaged, he 
 should break through every other claim, he should 
 absolutely condition with his uncle for attending 
 them whenever he might be wanted. The play 
 should not be lost by his absence. 
 
 ' ' From Bath, Norfolk, London, York, — wher- 
 ever I may be,'' said he, ^^I will attend 3^ou from 
 any place in England, at an hour's notice." 
 
 It was well at that moment that Tom had to 
 speak, and not his sister. He could immediately 
 say, with easy fluency, " I am sorry you are going; 
 
JVIANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 251 
 
 but as to our play, that is all over, entirely at an 
 end/' looking significantly at his father. ^^The 
 painter was sent off yesterday, and very little will 
 remain of the theatre to-morrow. I knew how 
 that would be from the first. It is early for Bath. 
 You will find nobody there.'' 
 
 It is about my uncle's usual time." 
 
 When do you think of going? " 
 
 I may, perhaps, get as far as Banbury to-day." 
 
 Whose stables do you use at Bath? " was the 
 next question; and while this branch of the sub- 
 ject was under discussion, Maria, who wanted 
 neither pride nor resolution, was preparing to en- 
 counter her share of it with tolerable calmness. 
 
 To her he soon turned, repeating much of what 
 he had already said, with only a softened air and 
 stronger expressions of regret. But what availed 
 his expressions or his air? He was going, — and 
 if not voluntarily going, voluntarily intending to 
 stay away; for, excepting what might be due to 
 his uncle, his engagements were all self-imposed. 
 He might talk of necessity, but she knew his inde- 
 pendence. The hand which had so pressed hers to 
 his heart ! — the hand and the heart were alike mo- 
 tionless and passive now! Her spirit supported 
 her, but the agony of her mind was severe. She 
 had not long to endure what arose from listening 
 to language which his actions contradicted, or to 
 bury the tumult of her feelings under the restraint 
 of society ; for general civilities soon called his no- 
 tice from her, and the farewell visit, as it then be- 
 came openly acknowledged, was a very short one. 
 He was gone, — he had touched her hand for tliQ 
 
252 
 
 MANSEIELD PARK. 
 
 last time, he had made his parting bow, and she 
 might seek directly all that solitude could do ior 
 her. Henry Crawford was gone, — gone from the 
 house, and within two hours afterwards from the 
 parish, — and so ended all the hopes his selfish 
 vanity had raised in Maria and Julia Bertram. 
 
 Julia could rejoice that he was gone. His pres- 
 ence was beginning to be odious to her; and if 
 Maria gained him not, she was now cool enough to 
 dispense with any other revenge. She did not 
 want exposure to be added to desertion. Henry 
 Crawford gone, she could even pity her sister. 
 
 With a purer spirit did Fanny rejoice in the in- 
 telligence. She heard it at dinner, and felt it a 
 blessing. By all the others it was mentioned with 
 regret; and his merits honored with due gradation 
 of feeling, from the sincerity of Edmund's too par- 
 tial regard, to the unconcern of liis mother speak- 
 ing entirely by rote. Mrs. Norris began to look 
 about her, and wonder that his falling in love with 
 Julia had come to nothing; and could almost fear 
 that she had been remiss herself in forwarding it; 
 but with so many to care for, how was it possible 
 for even her activity to keep pace with her wishes? 
 
 Another day or two, and Mr. Yates was gone 
 likewise. In his departure Sir Thomas felt the 
 chief interest : wanting to be alone with his family, 
 the presence of a stranger superior to Mr. Yates 
 must have been irksome ; but of him, trifling and 
 confident, idle and expensive, it was every way 
 vexatious. In himself he was wearisome, but as the 
 friend of Tom and the admirer of Julia he became 
 offensive. Sir Thomas had been quite indifferent 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 253 
 
 to Mr. Crawford's going or staying; but his good 
 wishes for Mr. Yates's having a pleasant journey, 
 as he walked with him to the hall door, were given 
 with genuine satisfaction. Mr. Yates had stayed to 
 see the destruction of every theatrical preparation 
 at Mansfield, the removal of everything appertain- 
 ing to the play : he left the house in all the sober- 
 ness of its general character, and Sir Thomas hoped, 
 in seeing him out of it, to be rid of the worst ob- 
 ject connected with the scheme, and the last that 
 must be inevitably reminding him of its existence, 
 Mrs. E'orris contrived to remove one article from 
 his sight that might have distressed him. The 
 curtain over which she had presided with such 
 talent and such success went off with her to her 
 cottage, where she happened to be particularly in 
 want of green baize. 
 
CHAPTEE XXI. 
 
 Sir Thomas's return made a striking change in 
 the ways of the family, independent of Lovers' 
 Vows. Under his government, Mansfield was an 
 altered place. Some members of their society 
 sent away, and the spirits of many others sad- 
 dened, it was all sameness and gloom, compared 
 with the past, — a sombre family-party rarely en- 
 livened. There was little intercourse with the 
 Parsonage. Sir Thomas, drawing back from inti- 
 macies in general, was particularly disinclined at 
 this time for any engagements but in one quarter. 
 The E/Ushworths were the only addition to his own 
 domestic circle which he could solicit. 
 
 Edmund did not wonder that such should be his 
 father's feelings, nor could he regret anything but 
 the exclusion of the Grants. ^^But they," he ob- 
 served to Fanny, ^^have a claim. They seem to 
 belong to us, — they seem to be part of ourselves. 
 I could wish my father were more sensible of their 
 very great attention to my mother and sisters while 
 he was avv^ay. I am afraid they may feel them- 
 selves neglected; but the truth is, that my father 
 hardly knows them. They had not been here a 
 twelvemonth when he left England. If he knew 
 them better, he would value their society as it de- 
 serves, for they are, in fact, exactly the sort of 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 255 
 
 people he would like. We are sometimes a little 
 in want of animation among ourselves : my sisters 
 seem out of spirits, and Tom is certainly not at his 
 ease. Dr. and Mrs. Grant would enliven us, and 
 make our evenings pass away with more enjoyment 
 even to my father.'' 
 
 ^^Do you think so?" said Fanny: ^^in my 
 opinion, my uncle would not like any addition. 
 I think he values the very quietness you speak of, 
 and that the repose of his own family circle is all 
 he wants. And it does not appear to me that we 
 are more serious than we used to be, — I mean 
 before my nncle went abroad. As well as I can 
 recollect, it was always much the same. There 
 was never much laughing in his presence ; or if 
 there is any difference, it is not more, I think, than 
 snch an absence has a tendency to produce at first. 
 There must be a sort of shyness; but I cannot rec- 
 ollect that our evenings formerly were ever merry, 
 except when my uncle was in town. ISTo young 
 people's are, I suppose, when those they look up 
 to are at home." 
 
 ^^I believe you are right, Fanny," was his 
 reply, after a short consideration. " I believe our 
 evenings are rather returned to what they were, 
 than assuming a new character. The novelty was 
 in their being lively. Yet how strong the im- 
 pression that only a few weeks will give! I 
 have been feeling as if we had never lived so 
 before." 
 
 ^^I suppose I am graver than other people," 
 said Fanny. ^^The evenings do not appear long 
 to me. I love to hear my uncle talk of the West 
 
256 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 Indies. I could listen to him for an liour to- 
 gether. It entertains me more than many other 
 things have done, — but then I am unlike other 
 people, I dare say." 
 
 Why should you dare say that? " smiling. ^^Do 
 you want to be told that you are only unlike other 
 people in being more wise and discreet? But 
 when did you or anybody ever get a compliment 
 from me, Fanny? Go to my father if you want 
 to be complimented. He will satisfy you. Ask 
 your uncle what he thinks, and you will hear com- 
 pliments enough; and though they may be chiefly 
 on your person, you must put up with it, and 
 trust to his seeing as much beauty of mind in 
 time.^^ 
 
 Such language was so new to Panny that it 
 quite embarrassed her. 
 
 Your uncle thinks you very pretty, dear Fanny, 
 — and that is the long and the short of the matter. 
 Anybody but myself would have made something 
 more of it, and anybody but you would resent that 
 3^ou had not been thought very pretty before ; but 
 the truth is, that your uncle never did admire 3^ou 
 till now, and now he does. Your complexion 
 is so improved! and you have gained so much 
 countenance! and your figure — nay, Fanny, do 
 not turn away about it, — it is but an uncle. If 
 you cannot bear an uncle's admiration, what is to 
 become of you? You must really begin to harden 
 yourself to the idea of being worth looking at. 
 You must try not to mind growing up into a pretty 
 woman.'' 
 
 Oh, don't talk so, don't talk so! " cried Fanny, 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 257 
 
 distressed by more feelings than lie was aware 
 of; but seeing that she was distressed, he had 
 done with the subject, and only added more 
 seriously, — 
 
 Your uncle is disposed to be pleased with you 
 in every respect ; and I only wish you would talk 
 to him more. You are one of those who are too 
 silent in the evening circle.'^ 
 
 ^^But I do talk to him more than I used. I 
 am sure I do. Did not you hear me ask him about 
 the slave-trade last night?" 
 
 ^^I did, and was in hopes the question would 
 be followed up by others. Tt would have pleased 
 your uncle to be inquired of further.'' 
 
 ^^And I longed to do it, — but there was such 
 a dead silence ! And while my cousins were sit- 
 ting by without speaking a word or seeming at 
 all interested in the subject, I did not like — I 
 thought it would appear as if I wanted to set my- 
 self off at their expense, by showing a curiosity 
 and pleasure in his information which he must 
 wish his own daughters to feel.'' 
 
 ^^Miss Crawford was very right in what she 
 said of you the other day, — that you seemed al- 
 most as fearful of notice and praise as other women 
 were of neglect. We were talking of you at the 
 Parsonage, and those were her words. She has 
 great discernment. I know nobody who distin- 
 guishes characters better. For so young a woman, 
 it is remarkable! She certainly understands you 
 better than you are understood by the greater part 
 of those who have known you so long; and with 
 regard to some others, I can perceive, from occa- 
 
 VOL. I. — 17 
 
258 
 
 MANSEIELD PARK. 
 
 sional lively hints, the unguarded expressions of 
 the moment, that she could define many as accu- 
 rately, did not delicacy forbid it. I wonder what 
 she thinks of my father! She must admire him 
 as a fine-looking man, with most gentlemanlike, 
 dignified, consistent manners; but perhaps, hav- 
 ing seen him so seldom, his reserve may be a little 
 repulsive. Could they be much together, I feel 
 sure of their liking each other. He would enjoy 
 her liveliness, and she has talents to value his 
 powers. I wish they met more frequently! I 
 hope she does not suppose there is any dislike on 
 his side.^' 
 
 ^^She must know herself too secure of the re- 
 gard of all the rest of you,^^ said Fanny, with half 
 a sigh, ^^to have any such apprehension. And 
 Sir Thomas's wishing just at first to be only with 
 his family is so very natural that she can argue 
 nothing from that. After a little while I dare 
 say we shall be meeting again in tin; same sort 
 of way, allowing for the difference of the time of 
 year.'' 
 
 ^^This is the first October that she has passed 
 in the country since her infancy. I do not call 
 Tunbridge or Cheltenham the country; and ISTo- 
 vember is a still more serious month, and I can 
 see that Mrs. Grant is very anxious for her not 
 finding Mansfield dull as winter comes on." 
 
 Fanny could have said a great deal, but it was 
 safer to say nothing, and leave untouched all Miss 
 Crawford's resources, — her accomplishments, her 
 spirits, her importance, her friends, — lest it should 
 betray her into any observations seemingly un- 
 
MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 259 
 
 handsome. Miss Crawford's kind opinion of her- 
 self deserved at least a grateful forbearance, and 
 she began to talk of something else. 
 
 To-morrow, I think, my uncle dines at Sother- 
 ton, and you and Mr. Bertram too. We shall be 
 quite a small party at home. I hope my uncle 
 may continue to like Mr. Rushworth.'' 
 
 That is impossible, Eanny. He must like him 
 less after to-morrow's visit, for we shall be live 
 hours in his company. I should dread the stupid- 
 ity of the day, if there were not a much greater 
 evil to follow, — the impression it must leave on 
 Sir Thomas. He cannot much longer deceive 
 himself. I am sorry for them all, and would give 
 something that Rushworth and Maria had never 
 met.'' 
 
 In this quarter, indeed, disappointment was 
 impending over Sir Thomas. Kot all his good- 
 will for Mr. Rushworth, not all Mr. Rushworth's 
 deference for him, could prevent him from soon 
 discerning some jjart of the truth, — that Mr. 
 Rushworth was an inferior young man, as igno- 
 rant in business as in books, w^th opinions in 
 general unfixed, and without seeming much aware 
 of it himself. 
 
 He had expected a very different son-in-law; 
 and beginning to feel grave on Maria's account, 
 tried to understand her feelings. Little observa- 
 tion there was necessary to tell him that indiffer- 
 ence was the most favorable state they could be in. 
 Her behavior to Mr. Rushworth was careless and 
 cold. She could not, did not like him. Sir 
 Thomas resolved to speak seriously to her. Ad- 
 
260 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 vantageous as would be the alliance, and long 
 standing and public as was the engagement, her 
 happiness must not be sacrificed to it. Mr. Rush- 
 worth had, perhaps, been accepted on too short an 
 acquaintance, and, on knowing him better, she 
 was repenting. 
 
 With solemn kindness Sir Thomas addressed 
 her; told her his fears, inquired into her wishes, 
 entreated her to be open and sincere, and assured 
 her that every inconvenience should be braved, 
 and the connection entirely given up, if she felt 
 herself unhappy in the prospect of it. He would 
 act for her and release her. Maria had a moment's 
 struggle as she listened, and only a moment's: 
 when her father ceased, she was able to give her 
 answer immediately, decidedly, and with no ap- 
 parent agitation. She thanked him for his great 
 attention, his paternal kindness; but he was quite 
 mistaken in supposing she had the smallest desire 
 of breaking through her engagement, or was sen- 
 sible of any change of opinion or inclination since 
 her forming it. She had the highest esteem for 
 Mr. Rushworth's character and disposition, and 
 could not have a doubt of her happiness with 
 him. 
 
 Sir Thomas was satisfied; too glad to be satis- 
 fied, perhaps, to urge the matter quite so far as his 
 judgment might have dictated to others. It was 
 an alliance which he could not have relinquished 
 without pain; and thus he reasoned. Mr. Eush- 
 worth was young enough to improve; Mr. Kush- 
 worth must and would improve in good society; 
 and if Maria could now speak so securely of her 
 
MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 261 
 
 happiness with him, speaking certain!}^ without 
 the prejudice, the blindness of love, she ought to 
 be believed. Her feelings, probably, were not 
 acute; he had never supposed them to be so: but 
 her comforts might not be less on that account; 
 and if she could dispense with seeing her husband 
 a leading, shining character, there would certainly 
 be everything else in her favor. A well-disposed 
 young woman who did not marry for love was in 
 general but the more attached to her own family; 
 and the nearness of Sotherton to Mansfield must 
 naturally hold out the greatest temptation, and 
 would in all probability be a continual supply of 
 the most amiable and innocent enjoyments. Such 
 and such-like were the reasonings of Sir Thomas, — 
 happy to escape the embarrassing evils of a rupture, 
 the wonder, the reflections, the reproach, that must 
 attend it; happy to secure a marriage which would 
 bring him such an addition of respectability and in- 
 fluence, and very happy to think anything of his 
 daughter's disposition that was most favorable for 
 the purpose. 
 
 To her the conference closed as satisfactorily as 
 to him. She was in a state of mind to be glad 
 that she had secured her fate beyond recall, — that 
 she had pledged herself anew to Sotherton, — that 
 she was safe from the possibility of giving Craw- 
 ford the triumph of governing her actions and de- 
 stroying her prospects ; and retired in proud resolve^ 
 determined only to behave more cautiously to Mr. 
 Eushworth in future, that her father might not be 
 again suspecting her. 
 
 Had Sir Thomas applied to his daughter within 
 
262 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 the first three or four days after Henry Crawford's 
 leaving Mansfield^ before her feelings were at all 
 tranquillized, before she had given up every hope 
 of him, or absolutely resolved on enduring his 
 rival, her answer might have been different; but 
 after another three or four days, when there was no 
 return, no letter, no message, — no symptom of a 
 softened heart, — no hope of advantage from sepa- 
 ration, her mind became cool enough to seek all 
 the comfort that pride and self-revenge could give. 
 
 Henry Crawford had destroyed her happiness, 
 but he should not know that he had done it; he 
 should not destroy her credit, her appearance, her 
 prosperity too. He should not have to think of 
 her as pining in the retirement of Mansfield for 
 him, rejecting Sotherton and London, indepen- 
 dence and splendor, for his sake. Independence 
 was more needful than ever; the want of it at 
 Mansfield more sensibly felt. She was less and 
 less able to endure the restraint which her father 
 imposed. The liberty which his absence had given 
 was now become absolutely necessary. She must 
 escape from him and Mansfield as soon as possible, 
 and find consolation in fortune and consequence, 
 bustle and the world, for a wounded spirit. Her 
 mind was quite determined, and varied not. 
 
 To such feelings delay, even the delay of much 
 preparation, would have been an evil, and Mr. 
 E-ushworth could hardly be more impatient for the 
 marriage than ^herself. In all the important prep- 
 arations of the mind she was complete; being pre- 
 pared for matrimony by a hatred of home, restraint, 
 and tranquillity, by the misery of disappointed 
 
MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 263 
 
 affection, and contempt of tlie man slie was to 
 marry. The rest might wait. The preparations 
 of new carriages and furniture might wait for Lon- 
 don and spring, when her own taste could have 
 fairer play. 
 
 The principals being all agreed in this respect, 
 it soon appeared that a very few weeks would be 
 sufficient for such arrangements as must precede 
 the wedding. 
 
 Mrs. Rushworth was quite ready to retire, and 
 make way for the fortunate young woman whom 
 her dear son had selected; and very early in No- 
 vember removed herself, her maid, her footman, 
 and her chariot, with true dowager propriety, to 
 Bath, — there to parade over the wonders of S other- 
 ton in her evening parties, enjoying them as 
 thoroughly, perhaps, in the animation of a card- 
 table as she had ever done on the spot, — and be- 
 fore the middle of the same month the ceremony 
 had taken place which gave Sotherton another 
 mistress. 
 
 It was a very proper wedding. The bride was 
 elegantly dressed; the two bridemaids were duly 
 inferior; her father gave her away; her mother 
 stood with salts in her hand, expecting to be agi- 
 tated; her aunt tried to cvj] and the service 
 was impressively read by Dr. Grant. Nothing 
 could be objected to, when it came under the dis- 
 cussion of the neighborhood, except that the car- 
 riage which conveyed the bride and bridegroom 
 and Julia from the church door to Sotherton was 
 the same chaise which Mr. Rush worth had used 
 for a twelvemonth before. In everything else the 
 
264 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 etiquette of the day might stand the strictest 
 investigation. 
 
 It was done, and they were gone. Sir Thomas 
 felt as an anxious father must feel, and was indeed 
 experiencing much of the agitation which his wife 
 had been apprehensive of for herself, but had fortu- 
 nately escaped. Mrs. Norris, most happy to assist 
 in the duties of the day by spending it at the 
 Park to support her sister^ s spirits, and drinking 
 the health of Mr. and Mrs. Rushworth in a super- 
 numerary glass or two, was all joyous delight; 
 for she had made the match, — she had done every- 
 thing, — and no one would have supposed, from her 
 confident triumph, that she liad ever heard' of con- 
 jugal infelicity in her life, or could have the 
 smallest insight into the disposition of the niece 
 who had been brought up under her eye. 
 
 The plan of the young couple was to proceed, 
 after a few days, to Brighton, and take a house 
 there for some weeks. Every public place was new 
 to Maria, and Brighton is almost as gay in winter 
 as in summer. When the novelty of amusement 
 there was over, it would be time for the wider 
 range of London. 
 
 Julia was to go with them to Brighton. Since 
 rivalry between the sisters had ceased, they had 
 been gradually recovering much of their former 
 good understanding, and were at least sufficiently 
 friends to make each of them exceedingly glad to 
 be with the other at such a time. Some other com- 
 panion than Mr. Eush worth was of the first conse- 
 quence to his lady; and Julia was quite as eager 
 for novelty and pleasure as Maria, though she 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 265 
 
 might not have struggled through fo much to ob- 
 tain them, and could better bear a subordinate 
 situation. 
 
 Their departure made another material change at 
 Mansfield, a chasm which required some time to 
 fill up. The family circle became greatly con- 
 tracted; and though the Miss Bertrams had latterly 
 added little to its gayety, they could not but be 
 missed. Even their mother missed them; and 
 how much more their tender-hearted cousin, who 
 wandered about the house, and thought of them 
 and felt for them with a degree of affectionate 
 regret wdiich they had never done much to 
 deserve ! 
 
CHAPTEE XXII. 
 
 Fanny's consequence increased on the departure of 
 her cousins. Becoming, as she then did, the only 
 young woman in the drawing-room, the only occu- 
 pier of that interesting division of a family in 
 which she had hitherto held so humble a third, it 
 was impossible for her not to be more looked at, 
 more thought of and attended to, than she had ever 
 been before; and Where is Fanny? became 
 no uncommon question, even without her being 
 wanted for any one's convenience. 
 
 Not only at home did her value increase, but at 
 the Parsonage too. In that house, which she had 
 hardly entered twice a year since Mr. Norris's 
 death, she became a welcome, an invited guest; 
 and in the gloom and dirt of a November day, most 
 acceptable to Mary Crawford. Her visits there, 
 beginning by chance, were continued by solicita- 
 tion. Mrs. Grant, really eager to get any change 
 for her sister, could, by the easiest self-deceit, per- 
 suade herself that she was doing the kindest thing 
 by Fanny, and giving her the most important 
 opportunities of improvement in pressing her 
 frequent cafts. 
 
 Fanny, having been sent into the village on 
 some errand by her aunt Norris, was overtaken by 
 a heavy shower close to the Parsonage j and being 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 267 
 
 descried from one of the windows endeavoring to 
 find shelter under the branches and lingering 
 leaves of an oak just beyond their premises, was 
 forced, though not without some modest reluctance 
 on her part, to come in. A civil servant she had 
 withstood; but when Dr. Grant himself went out 
 with an umbrella, there was nothing to be done 
 but to be very much ashamed and to get into the 
 house as fast as possible ; and to poor Miss Craw- 
 ford, who had just been contemplating the dismal 
 rain in a very desponding state of mind, sighing 
 over the ruin of all her plan of exercise for that 
 morning, and of every chance of seeing a single 
 creature beyond themselves for the next twenty- 
 four hours, the sound of a little bustle at the front 
 door, and the sight of Miss Price dripping with 
 wet in the vestibule, was delightful. The value 
 of an event on a wet day in the country was most 
 forcibly brought before her. She was all alive 
 again directly, and among the most active in being 
 useful to Fanny, in detecting her to be wetter than 
 she would at first allow, and providing her with 
 dry clothes; and Fanny, after being obliged to 
 submit to all this attention, and to being assisted 
 and waited on by mistresses and maids, being also 
 obliged, on returning downstairs, to be fixed in 
 their drawing-room for an hour while the rain con- 
 tinued, the blessing of something fresh to see and 
 think of was thus extended to Miss Crawford, and 
 might carry on her spirits to the period of dressing 
 and dinner. 
 
 The two sisters were so kind to her and so 
 pleasant that Fanny might have enjoyed her visit 
 
268 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 could she have believed herself not in the way, 
 and could she have foreseen that the weathei: 
 would certainly clear at the end of the hour, and 
 save her from the shame of having Dr. Grant's 
 carriage and horses out to take her home, with 
 which she was threatened. As to anxiety for any 
 alarn^ that her absence in such weather might 
 occasion at home, she had nothing to suffer on that 
 score; for as her being out was known only to her 
 two aunts, she was perfectly aware that none 
 would be felt, and that in whatever cottage Aunt 
 Norris might choose to establish her during the 
 rain, her being in such cottage would be indubi- 
 table to Aunt Bertram. 
 
 It was beginning to look brighter, when Fanny, 
 observing a harp in the room, asked some ques- 
 tions about it which soon led to an acknowledg- 
 ment of her wishing very much to hear it, and a 
 confession, which could hardly be believed, of her 
 having never yet heard it since its being in Mans- 
 field. To Fanny herself it appeared a very simple 
 and natural circumstance. She had scarcely ever 
 been at the Parsonage since the instrument's 
 arrival, there had been no reason that she should; 
 but Miss Crawford, calling to mind an early ex- 
 pressed wish on the subject, was concerned at her 
 own neglect; and Shall I play to you now?" 
 and What will you have? " were questions imme- 
 diately follc^wing with the readiest good-humor. 
 
 She played accordingly; happy to have a new 
 listener, and a listener who seemed so much 
 obliged, so full of wonder at the performance, and 
 who showed herself not wanting in taste. She 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 269 
 
 played till Panny's eyes, straying to tlie window 
 on the weather's being evidently fair, spoke what 
 she felt must be done. 
 
 Another quarter of an hour/' said Miss Craw- 
 ford, ^^and we shall see how it will be. Do not 
 run away the first moment of its holding up. 
 Those clouds look alarming.'' 
 
 ^^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 some- 
 thing more to you, — a very pretty piece, and 
 your cousin Edmund's prime favorite. You must 
 stay and hear your cousin's favorite." 
 
 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 favorite 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 sin- 
 cerely impatient to go awaj^ at the conclusion of it 
 than she had been before; and on this being evi- 
 dent, 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. 
 
270 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 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 Craw- 
 ford'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 goiug, 
 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, how- 
 ever, and they sauntered about together many a 
 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, remain- 
 ing there perhaps till, in the midst of some tender 
 ejaculation of Fanny's on the sweets of so pro- 
 tracted an autumn, they were forced b}^ the sudden 
 swell of a cold gust shaking down the last few 
 yellow leaves about them, to jump up and walk 
 for warmth. 
 
 ^^This is pretty, very pretty," said Fanny, 
 looking around her as they were thus sitting to- 
 gether one ^ day. Every time I come into this 
 shrubbery I am more struck with its growth and 
 beauty. Three years ago this was nothing but a 
 rough hedgerow along the upper side of the field, 
 
MANSFIELD PAEK. 
 
 271 
 
 never tlioiiglit of as anything, or capable of becom- 
 ing anything; and now it is converted into a walk, 
 and it would be difficult to say whether most valu- 
 able as a convenience or an ornament; and, per- 
 haps, in another three years we may be forgetting, 
 almost forgetting what it was before. How 
 wonderful, how very wonderful the operations of 
 time, and the changes of the human mind! " And 
 following the latter train of thought, she soon 
 afterwards added : ^ ^ If any one faculty of our na- 
 ture may be called more wonderful than the rest, 
 I do think it is memory. There seems something 
 more speakingly incomprehensible in the powers, 
 the failures, the inequalities of memory, than in 
 any other of our intelligences. The memory is 
 sometimes so retentive, so serviceable, so obedient; 
 at others, so bewildered and so weak ; and at others 
 again, so tyrannic, so beyond control ! We are, to 
 be sure, a miracle every way; but our powers of 
 recollecting and of forgetting do seem peculiarly 
 past finding out.'' 
 
 Miss Crawford, untouched and inattentive, had 
 nothing to say; and Fanny, perceiving it, brought 
 back her own mind to what she thought must 
 interest. 
 
 ^^It may seem impertinent in me to praise, but 
 I must admire the taste Mrs. Grant has shown in 
 all this. There is such a quiet simplicit}^ in the 
 plan of the walk, — not too much attempted! " 
 
 ^^Yes, " replied Miss Crawford, carelessly, ^Mt 
 does very well for a place of this sort. One does 
 not think of extent here; and between ourselves, 
 till I came to Mansfield, I had not imagined a 
 
272 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 country parson ever aspired to a shrubbery, or any- 
 thing of the kind.'' 
 
 ^^I am so glad to see the evergreens thrive!" 
 said Fanny, in reply. My uncle's gardener al- 
 ways says the soil here is better than his own, 
 and so it appears from the growth of the laurels 
 and evergreens in general. The evergreen! How 
 beautiful, how welcome, how wonderful the ever- 
 green! When one thinks of it, how astonishing a 
 variety of nature! In some countries we know 
 the tree that sheds its leaf is the variety; but that 
 does not make it less amazing that the same soil 
 and the same sun should nurture plants differing 
 in the first rule and law of their existence.* You 
 will think me rhapsodizing; but when I am out of 
 doors, especially when I am sitting out of doors, I 
 am very apt to get into this sort of wondering 
 strain. One cannot fix one's eyes on the common- 
 est natural production without finding food for a 
 rambling fancy." 
 
 ^^To say the truth," replied Miss Crawford, ^^I 
 am something like the famous Doge at the court of 
 Louis XIV., and may declare that I see no wonder 
 in this shrubbery equal to seeing myself in it. 
 If anybody had told me a year ago that this place 
 would be my home, that I should be spending 
 month after month here, as I have done, I cer- 
 tainly should not have believed them. I have 
 now been here nearly five months ; and moreover, 
 the quietest five months I ever passed." 
 
 ^^Too quiet for you, I believe." 
 
 ^^I should have thought so theoretically m}^- 
 self ; but," and her eyes brightened as she spoke, 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 273 
 
 ^^take it all and all, I never spent so liappy a 
 summer. But then," with a more thoughtful air 
 and lowered voice, there is no saying what it may 
 lead to/' 
 
 Fanny's heart beat quick, and she felt quite 
 unequal to surmising or soliciting anything more. 
 Miss Crawford, however, with renewed animation, 
 soon went on : — 
 
 ^^I am conscious of being far better reconciled 
 to a country residence than I had ever expected 
 to be. I can even suppose it pleasant to spend 
 half the year in the country, under certain circum- 
 stances, — very pleasant. An elegant, moderate- 
 sized house in the centre of family connections; 
 continual engagements among them; commanding 
 the first society in the neighborhood; looked up 
 to, perhaps, as leading it even more than those 
 of larger fortune, and turning from the cheerful 
 round of such' amusements to nothing worse than 
 a tete-a-tete with the person one feels most agree- 
 able in the world. There is nothing frightful 
 in such a picture, is there. Miss Price? One 
 need not envy the new Mrs. Eush worth with such 
 a home as that.'' 
 
 ^^Envy Mrs. Eushworth! " was all that Fanny 
 attempted to say. 
 
 ^^Come, come, it would be very unhandsome in 
 us to be severe on Mrs. Eushworth, for I look for- 
 ward to our owing her a great many gay, brilliant, 
 happy hours. I expect we shall be all very much 
 at Sotherton another year. Such a match as Miss 
 Bertram has made is a public blessing; for the 
 first pleasures of Mr. Eushworth's wife must be 
 
 VOL. I. — 18 
 
274 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 to fill her house, and give the best balls in the 
 country.^' 
 
 Fanny was silent, and Miss Crawford relapsed 
 into thoughtful ness, till suddenly looking up at 
 the end of a few minutes, she exclaimed, ^^Ah! 
 here he is.'^ It was not Mr. Eush worth, however, 
 but Edmund, who then appeared walking towards 
 them with Mrs. Grant. ^^My sister and Mr. 
 Bertram. I am so glad your eldest cousin is gone, 
 that he may be Mr. Bertram again. There is 
 something in the sound of Mr. Edmund Bertram 
 so formal, so pitiful, so younger-brother-like, that 
 I detest it.^' 
 
 ^^How differently we feel! ^' cried Fanny.* '^To 
 me the sound of Mr. Bertram is so cold and 
 nothing-meaning, so entirely without warmth or 
 character! It just stands for a gentleman, and 
 that 's all. But there is nobleness in the name 
 of Edmund. It is a name of heroism and re- 
 nown, — of kings, princes, and knights, — and 
 seems to breathe the spirit of chivalry and warm 
 affections.^' 
 
 ^'1 grant you the name is good in itself, and 
 Lord Edmund or Sir Edmund sounds delightfully; 
 but sink it under the chill, the annihilation of a 
 Mr., and Mr. Edmund is no more than Mr. John 
 or Mr. Thomas. Well, shall we join and disap- 
 point them of half their lecture upon sitting down 
 out of doors at this time of year, by being up be- 
 fore they can begin?'' 
 
 Edmund met them with particular pleasure. It 
 was the first time of his seeing them together 
 since the beginning of that better acquaintanco 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 275 
 
 which he had been hearing of with great satis- 
 faction. A friendship between two so very dear 
 to him was exactly what he could have wished; 
 and to the credit of the lover's understanding be 
 it stated, that he did not by any means consider 
 Fanny as the only or even as the greater gainer 
 by such a friendship. 
 
 ^^Well/^ said Miss Crawford, ^^and do not 
 you scold us for our imprudence? What do you 
 think we have been sitting down for but to be 
 talked to about it, and entreated and supplicated 
 never to do so again?'' 
 
 Perhaps I might have scolded," said Edmund, 
 ^^if either of you had been sitting down alone; 
 but while you do wrong together, I can overlook 
 a great deal.'' 
 
 ^^They cannot have been sitting long," cried 
 Mrs. Grant; ^^for when I went up for my shawl, 
 I saw them from the staircase window, and then 
 they were walking." 
 
 ^^And really," added Edmund, ^^the day is so 
 mild that jouy sitting down for a few minutes 
 can be hardly thought imprudent. Our weather 
 must not always be judged by the calendar. We 
 may sometimes take greater liberties in November 
 than in May." 
 
 '^Upon my word," cried Miss Crawford, ^^you 
 are two of the most disappointing and unfeeling 
 kind friends I ever met with! There is no giving 
 you a moment's uneasiness. You do not know 
 how much we have been suffering, nor what chills 
 we have felt! But I have long thought Mr. Ber- 
 tram one of the worst subjects to work on in any 
 
276 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 little manoeuvre against common sense that a 
 woman could be plagued with. I liad very little 
 hope of him from the first; but you, Mrs. Grant, 
 my sister, my own sister, — I think I had a right 
 to alarm you a little." 
 
 Do not flatter yourself, my dearest Mary. 
 You have not the smallest chance of moving me. 
 I have my alarms, but they are quite in a different 
 quarter; and if I could have altered the weather^, 
 you would have had a good sharp east wind blow- 
 ing on you the whole time, — for here are some of 
 my plants which Eobert will leave out because the 
 nights are so mild, and I know the end of it 
 will be that we shall have a sudden change of 
 weather, a hard frost setting in all at once, taking 
 everybody (at least Robert) by surprise, and I shall 
 lose every one; and what is worse, cook has just 
 been telling me that the turkey, which I particu- 
 larly wished not to be dressed till Sunday, because 
 I know how much more Dr. Grant would enjoy it 
 on Sunday after the fatigues of the day, will not 
 keep beyond to-morrow. These are something like 
 grievances, and make me think the weather most 
 unseasonably close." 
 
 '^The sweets of housekeeping in a country vil- 
 lage! said Miss Crawford, archly. Commend 
 m% to the nurseryman and the poulterer." 
 
 ^^My dear child, commend Dr. Grant to the 
 deanery of Westminster or St. Paul's, and I should 
 be as glad of your nurseryman and poulterer as you 
 could be. But we have no such people in Mans- 
 field. What would you have me do?'' 
 
 Oh, you can do nothing but what you do al- 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 277 
 
 ready, — be plagued very often, and never lose your 
 temper.'' 
 
 Thank you, — but there is no escaping these 
 little vexations, Mary, live where we may; and 
 when you are settled in town and I come to see 
 you, I dare say I shall find you with yours, in 
 spite of the nurseryman and the poulterer, — or 
 perhaps on their very account. Their remoteness 
 and unpunctuality or their exorbitant charges and 
 frauds will be drawing forth bitter lamentations.'' 
 ^^I mean to be too rich to lament or to feel 
 anything of the sort. A large income is the 
 best recipe for happiness I ever heard of. It cer- 
 tainly may secure all the myrtle and turkey part 
 of it." 
 
 ^^You intend to be very rich," said Edmund, 
 with a look which to Fanny's eye had a great deal 
 of serious meaning. 
 
 To be sure. Do not you? Do not we all? " 
 cannot intend anything which it must be so 
 completely beyond my power to command. Miss 
 Crawford may choose her degree of wealth. She 
 has only to fix on her number of thousands a year, 
 and there can be no doubt of their coming. My 
 intentions are only not to be poor." 
 
 ^^By moderation and economy, and bringing 
 down your wants to your income and all that. I 
 understand you, — and a very proper plan it is for 
 a person at your time of life, with such limited 
 means and indifferent connections. What can 
 you want but a decent maintenance? You have 
 not much time before you; and your relations are 
 in no situation to do anything for you, or to mor- 
 
278 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 tify you by the contrast of their own wealth and 
 consequence. Be honest and poor, by all means, — 
 but I shall not envy you; I do not much think 
 I shall even respect you. I have a much greater 
 respect for those that are honest and rich.'^ 
 
 ^^Your degree of respect for honesty, rich or 
 poor, is precisely what I have no manner of con- 
 cern with. I do not mean to be poor. Poverty is 
 exactly what I have determined against. Honesty 
 in the something between, in the middle state of 
 w^orldly circumstances, is all that I am anxious for 
 your not looking down on.'^ 
 
 ''IBiit I do look down upon it, if it might have 
 been higher. I must look down upon anything 
 contented with obscurity when it might rise to 
 distinction. 
 
 ^^But how may it rise? How may my honesty 
 at least rise to any distinction?^^ 
 
 This was not so very easy a question to answer, 
 and occasioned an Oh! of some length from the 
 fair lady before she could add, You ought to be 
 in parliament, or you should have gone into the 
 army ten years ago.'^ 
 
 ^^That is not much to the purpose now; and 
 as to my being in parliament, I believe I must 
 wait till there is an especial assembly for the rep- 
 resentation of younger sons who have little to 
 live on. No, Miss Crawford,^' he added, in a 
 more serious tone, ^' there are distinctions which 
 I should be miserable if I thought myself without 
 any chance — absolutely without chance or possi- 
 bility of obtaining; but they are of a different 
 character. 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 279 
 
 A look of consciousness, as he spoke, and what 
 seemed a consciousness of manner on Miss Craw- 
 ford's side as she made some laughing answer, was 
 sorrowful food for Fanny's observation; and find- 
 ing herself quite unable to attend as she ought to 
 Mrs. Grant, by whose side she was now following 
 the others, she had nearly resolved on going home 
 immediately, and only waited for courage to say 
 so, when the sound of the great clock at Mansfield. 
 Park, striking three, made her feel that she had 
 really been much longer absent than usual, and 
 brought the previous self-inquiry of whether she 
 should take leave or not just then, and how, to a 
 very speedy issue. With undoubting decision she 
 directly began her adieus ; and Edmund began at 
 the same time to recollect that his mother had been 
 inquiring for her, and that he had walked down to 
 the Parsonage on purpose to bring her back. 
 
 Fanny's hurry increased; and without in the 
 least expecting Edmund's attendance, she would 
 have hastened away alone; but the general pace 
 was quickened, and they all accompanied her into 
 the house, through which it was necessary to pass. 
 Dr. Grant was in the vestibule ; and as they stopped 
 to speak to him, she found, from Edmund's man- 
 ner, that he did mean to go with her. He, too, 
 was taking leave. She could not but be thankful. 
 In the moment of parting, Edmund was invited by 
 Dr. Grant to eat his mutton with him the next 
 day; and Fanny had barely time for an unpleasant 
 feeling on the occasion, when Mrs. Grant, with 
 sudden recollection, turned to her, and asked for 
 the pleasure of her company too. This was so new 
 
280 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 an attention, so perfectly new a circu«istance in 
 the events of Fanny's life, that she was all surprise 
 and embarrassment; and while stammering out her 
 great obligation, and her ^^But she did not sup- 
 pose it would be in her power," was looking at 
 Edmund for his opinion and help. But Edmund, 
 delighted with her having such a happiness offered, 
 and ascertaining with half a look and half a sen- 
 tence that she had no objection but on her aunt's 
 account, could not imagine that his mother would 
 make any difficulty of sparing her, and therefore 
 gave J his decided open advice that the invitation 
 should be accepted; and though Fanny would not 
 venture, even on his encouragement, to such a 
 flight of audacious independence, it was soon set- 
 tled that if nothing were heard to the contrary, 
 Mrs. Grant might expect her. 
 
 And you know what your dinner will be," said 
 Mrs. Grant, smiling, — the turkey, and I as- 
 sure you a very fine one; for, my dear," turning 
 to her husband, ^^cook insists upon the turkey's 
 being dressed to-morrow." 
 
 ^^Very well, very well," cried Dr. Grant, ^^all 
 the better; I am glad to hear you have anything 
 so good in the house. But Miss Price and Mr. 
 Edmund Bertram, I dare say, would take their 
 cl^^nce. We none of us want to hear the bill of 
 fare. A friendly meeting, and not a fine dinner, 
 is all we have in view. A turkey or a goose or a 
 leg of mutton, or whatever you and your cook 
 choose to give us." 
 
 The two cousins walked, home together; and ex- 
 cept in the immediate discussion of this engage- 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 281 
 
 ment, which Edmund spoke of with the warmest 
 satisfaction, as so particularly desirable for her in 
 the intimacy which he saw with so much pleasure 
 established, it was a silent walk; for having 
 finished that subject, he grew thoughtful and in- 
 disposed for any other. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 *^BuT why sliould Mrs. Grant ask Fanny? said 
 Lady Bertram. " How came she to think of ask- 
 ing Fanny? Fanny never dines there, you know, 
 in this sort of way. I cannot spare her, and I am 
 sure she does not want to go. Fanny, you do not 
 want to go, do you? 
 
 If you put such a question to her,^^ cried Ed- 
 mund, preventing his cousin's speaking, Fanny 
 will immediately say no; but I am sure, my dear 
 mother, she would like to go; and I can see no 
 reason why she should not.'' 
 
 ^^I cannot imagine why Mrs. Grant should 
 think of asking her. She never did before. She 
 used to ask your sisters now and then, but she 
 never asked Fanny." 
 
 " If you cannot do without me, ma'am — " said 
 Fanny, in a self-denying tone. 
 
 ^^But my mother will have my father with her 
 all the evening." 
 
 To be sure, so I shall." 
 
 Suppose you take my father's opinion, 
 Ilia' am." 
 
 " That 's well thought of. So I will, Edmund. 
 I will ask Sir Thomas as soon as he comes in, 
 whether I can do without her." 
 
 As you please, ma'am, on that head; but I 
 meant my father's opinion as to the propriety of 
 
MANSFIELD PABK. 
 
 283 
 
 the invitation's being accepted or not; and I think 
 he will consider it a right thing by Mrs. Grant, as 
 well as by Fanny, that being the first invitation 
 it should be accepted.'' 
 
 ^^I do not know. We will ask him. But he 
 will be very much surprised that Mrs. Grant 
 should ask Fanny at all.'' 
 
 There was nothing more to be said, or that could 
 be said to any purpose, till Sir Thomas were 
 present; but the subject involving, as it did, her 
 own evening's comfort for the morrow, was so 
 much uppermost in Lady Bertram's mind that 
 half an hour afterwards, on his looking in for a 
 minute in his way from his plantation to his dress- 
 ing-room, she called him back again, when he had 
 almost closed the door, with, Sir Thomas, stop a 
 moment, — I have something to say to you." 
 
 Her tone of calm languor, for she never took the 
 trouble of raising her voice, was always heard and 
 attended to; and Sir Thomas came back. Her 
 story began; and Fanny immediately slipped out 
 of the room, for to hear herself the subject of any 
 discussion with her uncle was more than her nerves 
 could bear. She was anxious, she knew, more 
 anxious, perhaps, than she ought to be, — for what 
 was it, after all, whether she went or stayed? — but 
 if her uncle were to be a great while considering 
 and deciding, and with very grave looks, and 
 those grave looks directed to her, and at last decide 
 against her, she might not be able to appear prop- 
 erly submissive and indifferent. Her cause, mean- 
 while, went on well. It began, on Lady Bertram's 
 part, with, ^ ' I have something to tell you that 
 
284 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 will surprise you. Mrs. Grant has asked Fanny 
 to dinner.'^ 
 
 ^^Well," said Sir Thomas, as if waiting more 
 to accomplish the surprise. 
 
 Edmund wants her to go; but how can I 
 spare her? " 
 
 ^^She will be late/' said Sir Thomas, taking 
 out his watch; ^^but what is your difficulty? 
 
 Edmund found himself obliged to speak, and fill 
 up the blanks in his mother's story. He told the 
 whole; and she had only to add, ^^So strange! for 
 Mrs. Grant never used to ask her.'' 
 
 But is not it very natural," observed Edmund, 
 
 that Mrs. Grant should wish to procure so agree- 
 able a visitor for her sister? " 
 
 '^Nothing can be more natural," said Sir 
 Thomas, after a short deliberation; ^^nor, were 
 there no sister in the case, could anything, in my 
 opinion, be more natural. Mrs. Grant's showing 
 civility to Miss Price, to Lady Bertram's niece, 
 could never want explanation. The only surprise 
 I can feel is, that this should be the first time of 
 its being paid. Fanny was perfectly right in giv- 
 ing only a conditional answer. She appears to 
 feel as she ought. But as I conclude that she 
 must wish to go, since all young people like to be 
 together, I can see no reason why she should be 
 denied the indulgence." 
 
 But can I do without her. Sir Thomas? " 
 Indeed I think you may." 
 
 ^^She always makes tea, you know, when my 
 sister is not here." 
 
 ^^Your sister, perhaps, may be prevailed on to 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 285 
 
 spend the day with us, and I shall certainly be at 
 home/' 
 
 Very well, then; Fanny may go, Edmund.'' 
 The good news soon followed her. Edmund 
 knocked at her door in his way to his own. 
 
 '^Well, Fanny, it is all happily settled, and 
 without the smallest hesitation on your uncle's 
 side. He had but one opinion. You are to go." 
 
 Thank you, I am so glad," was Fanny's in- 
 stinctive reply; though when she had turned from 
 him and shut the door, she could not help feeling, 
 ^^And yet, why should I be glad, for am I not 
 certain of seeing or hearing something there to 
 pain me? " 
 
 In spite of this conviction, however, she was 
 glad. Simple as such an engagement might ap- 
 pear in other eyes, it had novelty and importance 
 in hers, for, excepting the day at Sotherton, she 
 had scarcely ever dined out before; and though 
 now going only half a mile and only to three peo- 
 ple, still it was dining out, and all the little inter- 
 ests of preparation were enjoyments in themselves. 
 She had neither sympathy nor assistance from 
 those who ought to have entered into her feelings 
 and directed her taste; for Lady Bertram never 
 thought of being useful to anybody, and Mrs. ISTor- 
 ris, when she came on the morrow, in consequence 
 of an early call and invitation from Sir Thomas, 
 was in a very ill humor, and seemed intent only on 
 lessening her niece's pleasure, both present and 
 future, as much as possible. 
 
 ^^Upon my word, Fanny, you are in high luck 
 to meet with such attention and indulgence ! You 
 
286 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 ouglit to be very much obliged to Mrs. Grant for 
 thinking of you, and to your aunt for letting you 
 go, and you ought to look upon it as something ex- 
 traordinary; for I hope you are aware that there is 
 no real occasion for your going into company in 
 this sort of way, or ever dining out at all; and it 
 is what you must not depend upon ever being re- 
 peated. ISTor must you be fancying that the invi- 
 tation is meant as any particular compliment to 
 you; the compliment is intended to your uncle 
 and aunt and me. Mrs. Grant thinks it a civility 
 due to us to take a little notice of you, or else it 
 would never have come into her head, and you 
 may be very certain that if your cousin Julia had 
 been at home, you would not have been asked at 
 all.'^ 
 
 Mrs. E"orris had now so ingeniously done away 
 all Mrs. Grant's part of the favor, that Fanny, 
 who found herself expected to speak, could only 
 say that she was very much obliged to her aunt 
 Bertram for sparing her, and that she was endeav- 
 oring to put her aunt's evening work in such a 
 state as to prevent her being missed. 
 
 ' ' Oh, depend upon it, your aunt can do very 
 well without you, or you would not be allowed to 
 go. I shall be here, so you may be quite easy 
 about your aunt. And I hope you will have a very 
 agreeable day, and find it all mighty delightful. 
 But I must observe that five is the very awkward- 
 est of all possible numbers to sit dowm to table; 
 and T cannot but be surprised that such an elegant 
 lady as Mrs. Grant should not contrive better! 
 And round their enormous great wide table, too, 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 287 
 
 whicli fills up the room so dreadfully! Had the 
 Doctor been contented to take my dining-table 
 when I came away, as anybody in their senses 
 would have done, instead of having that absurd 
 new one of his own, which is wider, literally 
 wider than the dinner-table here, — how infinitely 
 better it would have been, and how much more he 
 would have been respected! for people are never 
 respected when they step out of their proper sphere. 
 Eemember that, Fanny. Five, only five to be sit- 
 ting round that table! However, you will have 
 dinner enough on it for ten, I dare say.'^ 
 
 Mrs. Norris fetched breath and went on again. 
 
 ^^The nonsense and folly of people's stepping 
 out of their rank and trying to appear above them- 
 selves, makes me think it right to give you a hint, 
 Fanny, now that you are going into company with- 
 out any of us; and I do beseech and entreat you 
 not to be putting yourself forward, and talking 
 and giving your opinion as if you were one of your 
 cousins, — as if you were dear Mrs. Kushworth or 
 Julia. That will never do, believe me. Eemem- 
 ber, wherever you are, you must be the lowest and 
 last; and though Miss Crawford is in a manner at 
 home at the Parsonage, you are not to be taking 
 place of her. And as to coming away at night, 
 you are to stay just as long as Edmund chooses. 
 Leave him to settle that.'' 
 
 ^^Yes, ma'am, I should not think of anything 
 else.'' 
 
 '^And if it should rain, — which I think ex- 
 ceedingly likely, for I never saw it more threaten- 
 ing for a wet evening in my life, — you must 
 
288 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 manage as well as you can, and not be expecting 
 the carriage to be sent for you. I certainly do not 
 go home to-night, and therefore the carriage will 
 not be out on my account; so you must make up 
 your mind to what may happen, and take your 
 things accordingly.'' 
 
 Her niece thought it perfectly reasonable. She 
 rated her own claims to comfort as low even as 
 Mrs. ISTorris could; and when Sir Thomas soon 
 afterwards, just opening the door, said, Fanny, 
 at what time would you have the carriage come 
 round? she felt a degree of astonishment which 
 made it impossible for her to speak. 
 
 ^^My dear Sir Thomas!" cried Mrs". Norris, 
 red with anger, Fanny can walk." 
 
 ^^Walk!" repeated Sir Thomas, in a tone of 
 most unanswerable dignity, and coming farther 
 into the room. ^^My niece walk to a dinner en- 
 gagement at this time of the year! Will twenty 
 minutes after four suit you?'' 
 
 ^^Yes, sir," was Fanny's humble answer, given 
 with the feelings almost of a criminal towards 
 Mrs. Norris; and not bearing to remain with her 
 in what might seem a state of triumph, she followed 
 her uncle out of the room, having sta3^ed behind 
 him only long enough to hear these words spoken 
 in angry agitation, — 
 
 Quite unnecessary! — a great deal too kind! 
 But Edmund goes; true, it is upon Edmund's 
 account. I observed he was hoarse on Thursday 
 night." 
 
 But this could not impose on Fanny. She felt 
 that the carriage was for herself, and herself alone ; 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 289 
 
 and her uncle's consideration of her, coming im- 
 mediately after such representations from her aunt, 
 cost her some tears of gratitude when she was 
 alone. 
 
 The coachman drove round to a minute ; another 
 minute brought down the gentleman; and as the 
 lady had, with a most scrupulous fear of being 
 late, been many minutes seated in the drawing- 
 room, Sir Thomas saw them off in as good time as 
 his own correctly punctual habits, required. 
 
 ^^Now I must look at you, Fanny,'' said Ed- 
 mund, with the kind smile of an affectionate 
 brother, ^^and tell you how I like you; and as 
 well as I can judge by this light, you look very 
 nicely indeed. What have you got on? " 
 
 ^^The new dress that my uncle was so good as 
 to give me on my cousin's marriage. I hope it is 
 not too fine; but I thought I ought to wear it as 
 soon as I could, and that I might not have such 
 another opportunity all the winter. I hope you 
 do not think me too fine." 
 
 A woman can never be too fine while she is all 
 in white. No, I see no finery about you; nothing 
 but what is perfectly proper. Your gown seems 
 very pretty. I like these glossy spots. Has not 
 Miss Crawford a gown something the same? " 
 
 In approaching the Parsonage they passed close 
 by the stable-yard and coach-house. 
 
 Hey day!" said Edmund, here's company, 
 here's a carriage! who have they got to meet us?'' 
 And letting down the side-glass to distinguish, 
 
 'Tis Crawford's, Crawford's barouche, I protest! 
 There are his own two men pushing it back into 
 
 VOL. I. — 19 
 
290 
 
 MANSFIELD PAEK. 
 
 its old quarters. He is here, of course. This is 
 quite a surprise, Ystnny, I shall be very glad to 
 see him.^' 
 
 There was no occasion, there was no time for 
 Fanny to say how very differently she felt; but 
 the idea of having such another to observe her 
 was a great increase of the trepidation with which 
 she performed the very awful ceremony of walking 
 into the drawing-room. ^ 
 
 In the drawing-room Mr. Crawford certainly 
 was, having been just long enough arrived to be 
 ready for dinner; and the smiles and pleased looks 
 of the three others standing round him showed 
 how welcome was his sudden resolution of coming 
 to them for a few days on leaving Bath. A very 
 cordial meeting passed between him and Edmund; 
 and, with the exception of Fanny, the pleasure 
 was general; and even to her there might be some 
 advantage in his presence, since every addition to 
 the party must rather forward her favorite indul- 
 gence of being suffered to sit silent and unat- 
 tended to. She was soon aware of this herself; 
 for though she must submit, as her own propriety 
 of mind directed, in spite of her aunt Norris's 
 opinion, to being the principal lady in company, 
 and to all the little distinctions consequent thereon, 
 she found, while they were at table, such a happy 
 flow of conversation prevailing in which she was 
 not required to take any part, — there was so much 
 to be said between the brother and sister about 
 Bath, so much between the two young men about 
 hunting, so much of politics between Mr. Crawford 
 and Dr. Grant, and of everything and altogether 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 291 
 
 between Mr. Crawford and Mrs. Grant, as to leave 
 her the fairest prospect of having only to listen in 
 quiet, and of passing a very agreeable day. She 
 could not compliment the newly arrived gentle- 
 man, however, with any appearance of interest in 
 a scheme for extending his stay at Mansfield, and 
 sending for his hunters from Norfolk, which, sug- 
 gested by Dr. Grant, advised by Edmund, and 
 warmly urged Ify the two sisters, was soon in pos- 
 session of his mind, and which he seemed to want 
 to be encouraged even by her to resolve on. Her 
 opinion was sought as to the probable continuance 
 of the open weather ; but her answers were as short 
 and indifferent as civility allowed. She could not 
 wish him to stay, and would much rather not have 
 him speak to her. 
 
 Her two absent cousins, especially Maria, were 
 much in her thoughts on seeing him; but no em- 
 barrassing remembrance affected his spirits. Here 
 he was again on the same ground where all had 
 passed before, and apparently as willing to stay 
 and be happy without the Miss Bertrams as if he 
 had never known Mansfield in any other state. 
 She heard them spoken of by him only in a 
 general way, till they were all re-assembled in 
 the drawing-room, when Edmund being engaged 
 apart in some matter of business with Dr. Grant, 
 which seemed entirely to engross them, and Mrs. 
 Grant occupied at the tea-table, he began talking 
 of them with more particularity to his other sister. 
 With a significant smile, which made Fanny quite 
 hate him, he said, So Eush worth and his fair bride 
 are at Brighton, I understand, — happy man ! ' ^ 
 
292 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 ^^Yes, they have been there — about a fort- 
 night, Miss Price, have they not? And Julia is 
 with them.'' 
 
 And Mr. Yates, I presume, is not far off." 
 
 '^Mr. Yates! Oh, we hear nothing of Mr. 
 Yates. I do not imagine he figures much in the 
 letters to Mansfield Park; do you. Miss Price? 
 I think my friend Julia knows better than to 
 entertain her father with Mr. Yates.'' 
 
 " Poor Push worth and his two -and -forty 
 speeches!" continued Crawford. Nobody can 
 ever forget them. Poor fellow ! 1 see him now, — 
 his toil and his despair. Well, I am much mis- 
 taken if his lovely Maria will ever want him to 
 make two-and-forty speeches to her; " adding, 
 with a momentary seriousness, ^^She is too good 
 for him, — much too good." And then changing 
 his tone again to one of gentle gallantry, and 
 addressing Fanny, he said: " You were Mr. Push- 
 worth's best friend. Your kindness and patience 
 can never be forgotten, your indefatigable patience 
 in trying to make it possible for him to learn his 
 part, — in trying to give him a brain which nature 
 had denied, — to mix up an understanding for him 
 out of the superfluity of your own ! He might not 
 have sense enough himself to estimate your kind- 
 ness, but I may venture to say that it had honor 
 from all the rest of the party." 
 
 Panny colored, and said nothing. 
 
 ^^It is as a dream, a pleasant dream!" he ex- 
 claimed, breaking forth again, after a few minutes' 
 musing. ^^I shall always look back on our theat- 
 ricals with exquisite pleasure. There was such an 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 293 
 
 interest, such an animation, such a spirit diffused. 
 Everybody felt it. We were all alive. There 
 was employment, hope, solicitude, bustle for every 
 hour of the day. Always some little objection, 
 some little doubt, some little anxiety to be got 
 over. I never was happier.^' 
 
 With silent indignation Fanny repeated to her- 
 self : ' ' ISTever happier ! — never happier than when 
 doing what you must know was not justifiable ! — 
 never happier than when behaving so dishonorably 
 and unfeelingly! Oh, what a corrupted mind! 
 
 *^ We were unlucky. Miss Price, he continued 
 in a lower tone, to avoid the possibility of being 
 heard by Edmund, and not at all aware of her feel- 
 ings, ^^we certainly were very unlucky. Another 
 week, only one other week, would have been 
 enough for us. I think if we had had the disposal 
 of events, if Mansfield Park had had the govern- 
 ment of the winds just for a week or two about the 
 equinox, there would have been a difference. Not 
 that we would have endangered his safety by any 
 tremendous weather, but only by a steady con- 
 trary wind, or a calm. I think. Miss Price, we 
 would have indulged ourselves with a week's calm 
 in the Atlantic at that season. 
 
 He seemed determined to be answered; and 
 Eanny, averting her face, said with a firmer tone 
 than usual: ^^As far as I am concerned, sir, I 
 would not have delayed his return for a day. My 
 uncle disapproved it all so entirely when he did 
 arrive, that in my opinion everything had gone 
 quite far enough. 
 
 She had never spoken so much at once to him iu 
 
294 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 her life before, and never so angrily to any one; 
 and when her speech was over, she trembled and 
 blushed at her own daring. He was surprised; but 
 after a few moments' silent consideration of her, 
 replied in a calmer, graver tone, and as if the can- 
 did result of conviction, " I believe you are right. 
 It was more pleasant than prudent. We were 
 getting too noisy.'' And then turning the con- 
 versation, he would have engaged her on some 
 other subject, but her answers w^ere so shy and 
 reluctant that he could not advance in any. 
 
 Miss Crawford, who had been repeatedly eying 
 Dr. Grant and Edmund, now observed, Those 
 gentlemen must have some very interesting point 
 to discuss." 
 
 ^^The most interesting in the world," rejDlied 
 her brother, — ^^how to make money, how to turn 
 a good income into a better. Dr. Grant is giving 
 Bertram instructions about the living he is to step 
 into so soon. I find he takes orders in a few 
 weeks. They were at it in the dining-parlor. 1 
 am glad to hear Bertram will be so well off. He 
 will have a very pretty income to make ducks and 
 drakes with, and earned without much trouble. I 
 apprehend he will not have less than seven hun- 
 dred a year. Seven hundred a year is a fine thing 
 for a younger brother; and as of course he will still 
 live at home, it will be all for his menus plaisirs; 
 and a sermon at Christmas and Easter, I sup230se, 
 will be the sum total of sacrifice." 
 
 His sister tried to laugh off her feelings by say- 
 ing, Nothing amuses me more than the easy 
 manner with which everybody settles the abun- 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 295 
 
 dance of those who have a great deal less than 
 themselves. You would look rather blank, Henry, 
 if your menus plats irs were to be limited to seven 
 hundred a year.'' 
 
 Perhaps I might; but all that you know is en- 
 tirely comparative. Birthright and habit must 
 settle the business. Bertram is certainly well off 
 for a cadet of even a Baronet's family. By the 
 time he is four or five and twenty he will have 
 seven hundred a year, and nothing to do for it." 
 
 Miss Crawford could have said that there would 
 be a something to do and to suffer for it, which she 
 could not think lightly of; but she checked herself 
 and let it pass, and tried to look calm and uncon- 
 cerned when the two gentlemen shortly afterwards 
 joined them. 
 
 Bertram," said Henry Crawford, ^^I shall 
 make a point of coming to Mansfield to hear you 
 preach your first sermon. I shall come on purpose 
 to encourage a young beginner. When is it to be? 
 Miss Price, will not you join me in encouraging 
 your cousin? Will not you engage to attend with 
 your eyes steadily fixed on him the whole time, — 
 as I shall do, — not to lose a word ; or only looking 
 off just to note down any sentence pre-eminently 
 beautiful? We will provide ourselves with tablets 
 and a pencil. When will it be? You must preach 
 at Mansfield, you know, that Sir Thomas and 
 Lady Bertram may hear you." 
 
 I shall keep clear of you, Crawford, as long as 
 I can," said Edmund; ^^for you would be more 
 likely to disconcert me, and I should be more sorry 
 to see you trying at it, than almost any other man.'' 
 
296 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 ^^Will he not feel this?'' thought Fanny. 
 ^^No, he can feel nothing as he ought." 
 
 The party being now all united, and the chief 
 talkers attracting each other, she remained in tran- 
 quillity; and as a whist-table was formed after tea, 
 — formed really for the amusement of Dr. Grant, 
 by his attentive wife, though it was not to be sup- 
 posed so, — and Miss Crawford took her harp, 
 she had nothing to do but to listen; and her tran- 
 quillity remained undisturbed the rest of the 
 evening, except when Mr. Crawford now and then 
 addressed to her a question or observation, which 
 she could not avoid answering. Miss Crawford 
 was too much vexed by what had passed to be in a 
 humor for anything but music. With that, she 
 soothed herself and amused her friend. 
 
 The assurance of Edmund's being so soon to take 
 orders, coming upon her like a blow that had been 
 suspended, and still hoped uncertain and at a dis' 
 tanee, was felt with resentment and mortification. 
 She was very angry with him. She had thought 
 her influence more. She had begun to think of 
 him — she felt that she had — with great regard, 
 with almost decided intentions ; but she would now 
 meet him with his own cool feelings. It was plain 
 that he could have no serious views, no true attach- 
 ment, by fixing himself in a situation which he 
 must know she would never stoop to. She would 
 learn to match him in his indifference. She would 
 henceforth admit his attentions without any idea 
 beyond immediate amusement. If he could so 
 command his affections, hers should do her no 
 harm. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIV. 
 
 Henry Crawford had quite made up his mind 
 by the next morning to give another fortnight to 
 Mansfield; and having sent for his hunters, and 
 written a few lines of explanation to the Admiral, 
 he looked round at his sister as he sealed and threw 
 the letter from him, and seeing the coast clear of 
 the rest of the family, said with a smile: ^^And 
 how do you think I mean to amuse myself, Mary, 
 on the days that I do not hunt? I am grown too 
 old to go out more than three times a week; but I 
 have a plan for the intermediate days, and what do 
 you think it is? 
 
 " To walk and ride with me, to be sure/' 
 ^^ISiot exactly, though I shall be happy to do 
 both; but that would be exercise only to my body, 
 and I must take care of my mind. Besides, that 
 would be all recreation and indulgence, without 
 the wholesome alloy of labor, and I do not like to 
 eat the bread of idleness. iSTo, my plan is to make 
 Fanny Price in love with me.'' 
 
 Fanny Price! ]^onsense! ]LSro, no ; you ought 
 to be satisfied with her two cousins." 
 
 But I cannot be satisfied without Fanny Price, 
 without making a small hole in Fanny Price's 
 heart. You do not seem properly avv^are of her 
 claims to notice. When we talked of her last 
 
298 
 
 MANSEIELD PARK. 
 
 night, 3^ou none of you seemed sensible of the won- 
 derful improvement that has taken place in her 
 looks within the last six weeks. Yon see her 
 every day, and therefore do not notice it; but I as- 
 sure you, she is quite a different creature from 
 what she was in the autumn. She was then merely 
 a quiet, modest, not plain-looking girl ; but she is 
 now absolutely pretty. I used to think she had 
 neither complexion nor countenance; but in that 
 soft skin of hers, so frequently tinged with a blush 
 as it was yesterday, there is decided beauty; and 
 from what I observed of her eyes and mouth, I do 
 not desj^air of their being capable of expression 
 enough when she has anything to express. 'And 
 then — her air, her manner, her tout eiisemhlej is 
 so indescribably improved! She must be grown 
 two inches, at least, since October.'' 
 
 ^^Phoo! phoo! This is only because there were 
 no tall women to compare her with, and because 
 she has got a new gown, and you never saw her so 
 well dressed before. She is just what she was in 
 October, believe me. The truth is, that she was 
 the only girl in company for you to notice, and 
 you must have a somebody. I have always thought 
 her pretty, — not strikingly pretty, — but pretty 
 enough," as people say; a sort of beauty that grows 
 on one. Her eyes should be darker, but she has a 
 sweet smile; but as for this wonderful degree of 
 improvement, I am sure it may all be resolved into 
 a better style of dress and your having nobody else 
 to look at; and therefore, if you do set about a 
 flirtation with her, you never will persuade me 
 that it is in compliment to her beauty, or that it 
 
MANSFIELD PAKK. 
 
 299 
 
 proceeds from anything but your own idleness and 
 folly/' 
 
 Her brother gave only a smile to this accusation, 
 and soon afterwards said : ^ * I do not quite know 
 what to make of Miss Fanny. I do not under- 
 stand her. I could not tell what she would be 
 at yesterday. What is her character? Is she 
 solemn? Is she queer? Is she prudish? Why 
 did she draw back and look so grave at me? I 
 could hardly get her to speak. I never was so long 
 in company with a girl in my life, — trying to 
 entertain her, — and succeed so ill ! Never met 
 with a girl who looked so grave on me! I must 
 try to get the better of this. Her looks say, ' I 
 will not like you, I am determined not to like 
 you;' and I say, she shall.'' 
 
 Foolish fellow! And so this is her attraction, 
 after all ! This it is, — her not caring about you, 
 — which gives her such a soft skin, and makes her 
 so much taller, and produces all these charms and 
 graces ! I do desire that you will not be making 
 her really unhappy; a little love perhaps may 
 animate and do her good, but I will not have you 
 plunge her deep, for she is as good a little creature 
 as ever lived, and has a great deal of feeling." 
 
 ^^It can be but for a fortnight," said Henry; 
 ^^and if a fortnight can kill her, she must have 
 a constitution which nothing could save. No, I 
 will not do her any harm, dear little soul ! I on\j 
 want her to look kindly on me, to give me smiles 
 as well as blushes, to keep a chair for me by her- 
 self wherever we are, and be all animation when 
 I take it and talk to her; to think as I think, be 
 
300 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 interested in all my possessions and pleasures, try 
 to keep me longer at Mansfield, and feel Avlien I 
 go away that she shall be never happy again. I 
 want nothing more.'^ 
 
 Moderation itself! said Mary. I can have 
 no scruples now. Well, you will have opportuni- 
 ties enough of endeavoring to recommend yourself, 
 for we are a great deal together." 
 
 And without attempting any further remon- 
 strance, she left Fanny to her fate, — a fate which, 
 had not Fanny's heart been guarded in a way 
 unsuspected by Miss Crawford, might have been 
 a little harder than she deserved; for although 
 there doubtless are such unconquerable young ladies 
 of eighteen (or one should not read about them) 
 as are never to be persuaded into love against 
 their judgment by all that talent, manner, atten- 
 tion, and flattery can do, I have no inclination to 
 believe Fanny one of them, or to think that with 
 so much tenderness of disposition and so much 
 taste as belonged to her, she could have escaped 
 heart-whole from the courtship (though the courtship 
 only of a fortnight) of such a man as Crawford, 
 in spite of there being some previous ill-opinion 
 of him to be overcome, had not her affection been 
 engaged elsewhere. With all the securit}'^ which 
 love of another and disesteem of him could give 
 to the peace of mind he was attacking, his con- 
 tinued attentions — continued, but not obtrusive, 
 and adapting themselves more and more to the 
 gentleness and delicacy of her character — obliged 
 her very soon to dislike him less than formerly. 
 She had by no means forgotten the past, and she 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 301 
 
 thoiiglit as ill of him as ever; but she felt his 
 powers: he was entertaining; and his manners 
 were so improved^ so polite, so seriously and 
 blamelessly polite, that it was impossible not to 
 be civil to him in return. 
 
 A very few days were enough to effect this; and 
 at the end of those few days circumstances arose 
 which had a tendency rather to forward his views 
 of pleasing her, inasmuch as they gave her a de- 
 gree of happiness which must dispose her to be 
 pleased with everybody. William, her brother, 
 the so long absent and dearly loved brother, was 
 in England again. She had a letter from him 
 herself, a few hurried happy lines, written as the 
 ship came up Channel, and sent into Portsmouth, 
 with the first boat that left the Antwerp, at an- 
 chor, in Spithead; and when Crawford walked up 
 with the newspaper in his hand, which he had 
 hoped would bring the first tidings, he found her 
 trembling with jo}^ over this letter, and listening 
 with a glowing, grateful countenance to the kind 
 invitation w^hich her uncle was most collectedly 
 dictating in reply. 
 
 It was but the day before, that Crawford had 
 made himself thoroughly master of the subject, or 
 had in fact become at all aware of her having such 
 a brother, or his being in such a ship ; but the in- 
 terest then excited had been very properly lively, 
 determining him on his return to town to apply 
 for information as to the probable period of the 
 Antwerp's return from the Mediterranean, etc. ; 
 and the good luck which attended his early exam- 
 ination of ship news, the next morning, seemed 
 
302 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 the reward of his ingenuity in finding out such a 
 method of pleasing her, as well as of his dutiful 
 attention to the Admiral, in having for many 
 years taken in the paper esteemed to have the 
 earliest naval intelligence. He proved, however, 
 to be too late. All those fine first feelings, of 
 which he had hoped to be the exciter, were already 
 given. But his intention, the kindness of his in- 
 tention, w^as thankfully acknowledged, — quite 
 thankfully and warmly, for she was elevated be- 
 yond the common timidity of her mind by the 
 flow of her love for William. 
 
 This dear William would soon be amongst them. 
 There could be no doubt of his obtaining leave of 
 absence immediately, for he was still only a mid- 
 shipman; and as his parents, from living on the 
 spot, must already have seen him and be seeing 
 him perhaps daily, his direct holidays might with 
 justice be instantly given to the sister, who had 
 been his best correspondent through a period of 
 seven years, and the uncle who had done most for 
 his support and advancement; and accordingly the 
 reply to her reply, fixing a very early day for his 
 arrival, came as soon as possible; and scarcely ten 
 days had passed since Fanny had been in the agi- 
 tation of her first dinner visit, when she found 
 herself in an agitation of a higher nature, — watch- 
 ing in the hall, in the lobby, on the stairs, for the 
 first sound of the carriage which was to bring her 
 a brother. 
 
 It came happily while she was thus waiting; 
 and there being neither ceremony nor fearfulness 
 to delay the moment of meeting, she was with him 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 303 
 
 as he entered the house, and the first minutes of 
 exquisite feeling had no interruption and no wit- 
 nesses, unless the servants chiefly intent upon 
 opening the proper doors could be called such. 
 This was exactly what Sir Thomas and Edmund 
 had been separately conniving at, as each proved 
 to the other by the sympathetic alacrity with 
 which they both advised Mrs. N'orris's continuing 
 where she was, instead of rushing out into the 
 hall as soon as the noises of the arrival reached 
 them. 
 
 William and Fanny soon showed themselves; 
 and Sir Thomas had the pleasure of receiving, in 
 his protege, certainly a very different person from 
 the one he had equipped seven years ago, but a 
 young man of an open, pleasant countenance, and 
 frank, unstudied, but feeling and respectful man- 
 ners, and such as confirmed him his friend. 
 
 It was long before Fanny could recover from the 
 agitating happiness of such an hour as was formed 
 by the last thirty minutes of expectation and the 
 first of fruition ; it was some time even before her 
 happiness could be said to make her happy, before 
 the disappointment inseparable from the alteration 
 of person had vanished, and she could see in him 
 the same William as before, and talk to him, as 
 her heart had been yearning to do, through many 
 a past year. That time, however, did gradually 
 come, forwarded by an affection on his side as 
 warm as her own, and much less encumbered by 
 refinement or self-distrust. She was the first 
 object of his love; but it was a love which his 
 stronger spirits and bolder temper made it as 
 
304 
 
 MANSFIELD PAEK. 
 
 natural for him to express as to feel. On the 
 morrow they were walking about together with 
 true enjoyment, and every succeeding morrow re- 
 /newed a tete-a-tete^ which Sir Thomas could not 
 but observe with complacency, even before Ed- 
 mund had pointed it out to him. 
 
 Excepting the moments of peculiar delight, 
 which any marked or unlooked-for instance of 
 Edmund's consideration of her in the last few 
 months had excited, Eanny had never known so 
 much felicity in her life as in this unchecked, 
 equal, fearless intercourse with the brother and 
 friend, who was opening all his heart to her, tell- 
 ing her all his hopes and fears, plans and solici- 
 tudes respecting that long thought of, dearly 
 earned, and justly valued blessing of promotion, — 
 who could give her direct and minute information 
 of the father and mother, brothers and sisters, of 
 whom she very seldom heard, — who was interested 
 in all the comforts and all the little hardships of 
 her home at Mansfield, ready to think of every 
 member of that home as she directed, or differing 
 only by a less scrupulous opinion and more noisy 
 abuse of their aunt IvTorris, — and with whom 
 (perhaps the dearest indulgence of the whole) all 
 the evil and good of their earliest years could be 
 gone over again, and every former united pain 
 and pleasure retraced with the fondest recollection. 
 An advantage this, a strengthener of love, in 
 which even the conjugal tie is beneath the frater- 
 nal. Children of the same family, the same blood, 
 with the same first associations and habits, have 
 some means of enjoyment in their power which 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 305 
 
 no subsequent connections can supply; and it 
 must be by a long and unnatural estrangement, 
 by a divorce which no subsequent connection can 
 justify, if such precious remains of the earliest 
 attachments are ever entirely outlived. Too often, 
 alas! it is so. Fraternal love, sometimes almost 
 everything, is at others worse than nothing. But 
 with William and Fanny Price it was still a sen- 
 timent in all its prime and freshness, wounded by 
 no opposition of interest, cooled by no separate 
 attachment, and feeling the influence of time and 
 absence only in its increase. 
 
 An affection so amiable was advancing each in 
 the opinion of all wdio had hearts to value anything 
 good. Henry Crawford was as much struck with 
 it as any. He honored the warm-hearted blunt 
 fondness of the young sailor, which led him to 
 say, with his hand stretched towards Fanny's 
 head: ^^Do you know, I begin to like that queer 
 fashion already, though when I flrst heard of such 
 things being done in England, I could not believe 
 it, and when Mrs. Brown, and the other women 
 at the Commissioner's at Gibraltar, appeared in 
 the same trim, I thought they were mad; but 
 Fanny can reconcile me to anything; '' — and saw, 
 with lively admiration, the glow of Fanny's 
 cheek, the brightness of her eye, the deep interest, 
 the absorbed attention, while her brother was de- 
 scribing any of the imminent hazards or terrific 
 scenes which such a period at sea must supply. 
 
 It was a picture which Henry Crawford had 
 moral taste enough to value. Fanny's attractions 
 increased, — increased twofold; for the sensibility 
 
 VOL. I. — 20 
 
306 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 which beautified her complexion and illumined her 
 countenance was an attraction in itself. He was 
 no longer in doubt of the capabilities of her heart. 
 She had feeling, genuine feeling. It would be 
 something to be loved by such a girl, to excite the 
 first ardors of her young, unsophisticated mind! 
 She interested him more than he had foreseen. A 
 fortnight was not enough. His stay became 
 indefinite. 
 
 William was often called on by his uncle to be 
 the talker. His recitals were amusing in them- 
 selves to Sir Thomas; but the chief object in seek- 
 ing them was to understand the reciter, to know 
 the young man by his histories; and he listened 
 to his clear, simple, spirited details with full satis- 
 faction, seeing in them the proof of good princi- 
 ples, professional knowledge, energy, courage, and 
 cheerfulness, — everything that could deserve or 
 promise well. Young as he was, William had 
 already seen a great deal. He had been in the 
 Mediterranean, in the West Indies, in the Medi- 
 terranean again ; had been often taken on shore by 
 the favor of his captain, and in the course of seven 
 years had known every variety of danger which 
 sea and war together could offer. With such 
 means in his power he had a right to be listened 
 to; and though Mrs. Norris could fidget about the 
 room, and disturb everybody in quest of two 
 needlefuls of thread or a second-hand shirt button 
 in the midst of her nephew's account of a ship- 
 wreck or an engagement, everybody else was at- 
 tentive; and even Lady Bertram could not hear of 
 such horrors unmoved, or without sometimes lift- 
 
MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 307 
 
 ing her eyes from her work to say, ^^Dear me! 
 how disagreeable ! I wonder anybody can ever go 
 to sea.'' 
 
 To Henry Crawford they gave a different feeling. 
 He longed to have been at sea, and seen and done 
 and suffered as much. His heart was warm, his 
 fancy fired, and he felt the highest respect for a 
 lad who, before he was twenty, had gone through 
 such bodily hardships, and given such proofs of 
 mind. The glory of heroism, of usefulness, of 
 exertion, of endurance, made his own habits of self- 
 ish indulgence appear in shameful contrast; and 
 he wished he had been a William Price, distin- 
 guishing himself and working his way to fortune 
 and consequence with so much self-respect and 
 happy ardor, instead of what he was ! 
 
 The wish was rather eager than lasting. He 
 was roused from the reverie of retrospection and 
 regret produced by it, by some inquiry from Ed- 
 mund as to his plans for the next day's hunting; 
 and he found it was as well to be a man of fortune 
 at once with horses and grooms at his command. 
 In one respect it was better, as it gave him the 
 means of conferring a kindness where he wished to 
 oblige. With spirits, courage, and curiosity up 
 to anything, William expressed an inclination to 
 hunt; and Crawford could mount him without the 
 slightest inconvenience to himself, and with only 
 some scruples to obviate in Sir Thomas, who knew 
 better than his nephew the value of such a loan, 
 and some alarms to reason away in Fanuy. She 
 feared for William, by no means convinced by all 
 that he could relate of his own horsemanship in 
 
308 
 
 MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 various countries, of the scrambling parties in 
 which he had been engaged, the rough horses and 
 mules he had ridden, or his many narrow escapes 
 from dreadful falls, that he was at all equal to the 
 management of a high-fed hunter in an English 
 fox-chase; nor till he returned safe and well, with- 
 out accident or discredit, could she be reconciled 
 to the risk, or feel any of that obligation to Mr. 
 Crawford for lending the horse which he had fully 
 intended it should produce. When it was proved, 
 however, to have done William no harm, she 
 could allow it to be a kindness, and even reward 
 the owner with a smile when the animal was one 
 minute tendered to his use again, and the next, 
 with the greatest cordiality, and in a manner not 
 to be resisted, made over to his use entirely go 
 long as he remained in Northamptonshire. ' 
 
 END OF VOL. I.