 24 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. Not 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 labour, and I do not like to eat the bread of idleness. No, my plan is to make Fanny Price in love with me. Fanny Price? Nonsense. No, 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 aware of her claims to notice. When we talked of her last night, you none of you seemed sensible of the wonderful improvement that has taken place in her looks within the last six weeks. You see her every day, and therefore do not notice it, but I assure 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 her eyes and mouth I do not despair of there being capable of expression enough when she has anything to express. And then her air, her manner, her tout ensemble, is so indescribably improved, she must have grown two inches at least since October. Foo-foo! 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 on October, believe me. The truth is that she was the only girl and 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 complement to her beauty, or that it proceeds from anything but your own idleness and folly. Her brother gave only a smile to this accusation, and soon afterward said, I do not quite know what to make of Miss Fanny. I do not understand 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. Only want her to look kindly on me, to give me smiles as well as blushes, to keep a chair for me by herself whenever we are, and be all animation when I take it and talk to her. To think as I think, be interested in all my possessions and pleasures, try to keep me longer at Mansfield, and feel when I go away that she shall never be happy again. I want nothing more. Moderation itself, said Mary. I can have no scruples now. Well, you will have opportunities enough of endeavouring to recommend yourself, for we are a great deal together. And, without attempting any farther remonstrance, 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 their 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, attention 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-hole 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 security which love of another and disesteem of him could give to the peace of mind he was attacking, his continued 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 thought 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 affect 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 degree of happiness which must dispose her to be pleased with everybody. William, her brother, though 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 Anchor and 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 joy over this letter, and listening with a glowing grateful countenance to the kind invitation which her uncle was most collectively 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 interest 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 examination of ship news the next morning seemed 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 intention was thankfully acknowledged, quite thankfully and warmly, for she was elevated beyond 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 midshipman. 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 agitation of her first dinner visit when she found herself in an agitation of a higher nature, watching 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 as he entered the house, and the first minutes of exquisite feeling had no interruption and no witnesses, 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 contriving at, as each proved to the other by the sympathetic alacrity with which they both advised Mrs. Norris'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 protégé 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 manners, 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's 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 natural for him to express as to feel. On the morrow they were walking about together with true enjoyment, and every succeeding morrow renewed a tet-a-tet which Sir Thomas could not but observe with complacency, even before Edmund had pointed it out to him. Accepting the moments of peculiar delight which any marked or unlooked-for instance of Edmund's consideration of her in the last few months had elicited, Fanny 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, telling her all his hopes and fears, plans and solicitudes 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 Norris, and with whom, perhaps the dearest indulgence of the whole, all the good and evil 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 fraternal. Children of the same family, the same blood, with the same first associations and habits, have some means of enjoyment in their power which 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 sentiment 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 who had hearts devalue anything good. Henry Crawford was as much struck with it as any. He honoured 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 first heard of such things being down in England, I could not believe it, and when Mrs. Brown and the other women at the commissioners 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 describing 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 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 ardours 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 themselves to Sir Thomas, but the chief object in seeking 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 satisfaction, seeing in them the proof of good principles, 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 Mediterranean again, had been often taken on shore by the favour 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 shipwreck or an engagement, everybody else was attentive, and even Lady Bertram could not hear of such horrors unmoved, or without sometimes lifting 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 warmed, 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 selfish indulgence appear in shameful contrast, and he wished he had been a William Price, distinguishing himself and working his way to fortune and consequence with so much self-respect and happy ardour, 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 Edmund 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 fanny. She feared for William, by no means convinced by all that he could relate of his own horsemanship in 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, without accident or discredit, would 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 tender 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 so long as he remained in Northamptonshire. CHAPTER XXV The intercourse of the two families was, at this period, more nearly restored to what it had been in the autumn than any member of the old intimacy had thought ever likely to be again. The return of Henry Crawford, and the arrival of William Price, had much to do with it, but much was still owing to Sir Thomas's more-than-toleration of the neighbourly attempts at the parsonage. His mind, now disengaged from the cares which had pressed on him at first, was at leisure to find the grants and their young inmates really worth visiting, and though infinitely above scheming or contriving for any the most advantageous matrimonial establishment that could be among the apparent possibilities of any one most dear to him, and disdaining even as a littleness the being quick-sighted on such points, he could not avoid perceiving, in a grand and careless way, that Mr. Crawford was somewhat distinguishing his niece, nor perhaps refrain, though unconsciously, from giving a more willing assent to invitations on that account. His readiness, however, in agreeing to dine at the parsonage, when the general invitation was at last hazarded, after many debates and many doubts as to whether it were worthwhile, because Sir Thomas seemed so ill-inclined, and Lady Bertram was so indolent, proceeded from good-breeding and good-will alone, and had nothing to do with Mr. Crawford, but as being one in an agreeable group, for it was in the course of that very visit that he first began to think that anyone in the habit of such idle observations would have thought that Mr. Crawford was the admirer of fanny price. The meeting was generally felt to be a pleasant one, being composed in a good proportion of those who would talk and those who would listen, and the dinner itself was elegant and plentiful, according to the usual style of the grants, and too much according to the usual habits of all, to raise any emotion, except in Mrs. Norris, who could never behold either the wide table or the number of dishes on it with patience, and who did always contrive to experience some evil from the passing of the servants behind her chair, and to bring away some fresh conviction of its being impossible among so many dishes, but that some must be cold. In the evening it was found, according to the predetermination of Mrs. Grant and her sister, that after making up the wist-table there would remain sufficient for a round game, and everybody being as perfectly complying and without a choice as on such occasions they always are, speculation was decided on almost as soon as wist, and Lady Bertram soon found herself in the critical situation of being applied to for her own choice between the games, and being required either to draw a card for wist or not. She hesitated. Luckily Sir Thomas was at hand. What shall I do, Sir Thomas? Wist and speculation. Which will amuse me most? Sir Thomas, after a moment's thought, recommended speculation. He was a wist-player himself, and perhaps might feel that it would not much amuse him to have her for a partner. Very well. Was her ladyship's contented answer? Then speculation. If you please, Mrs. Grant, I know nothing about it, but Fanny must teach me. Here Fanny interposed, however, with anxious protestations of her own equal ignorance. She had never played the game, nor seen it played in her life, and Lady Bertram felt a moment's indecision again. But upon everybody's assuring her that nothing could be so easy that it was the easiest game on the cards, and Henry Crawford stepping forward with the most earnest request to be allowed to sit between her ladyship and Miss Price, and teach them both, it was so settled. And Sir Thomas, Mrs. Norris, and Doctor and Mrs. Grant being seated at the table of prime intellectual state and dignity, the remaining six, under Miss Crawford's direction, were arranged round the other. It was a fine arrangement for Henry Crawford, who was close to Fanny, and with his hands full of business, having two persons' cards to manage as well as his own, for though it was impossible for Fanny not to feel herself mistress of the rules of the game in three minutes, he had yet to inspire it her play, sharpen her avarice, and harden her heart, which especially in any competition with William was a work of some difficulty. And as for Lady Bertram, he must continue in charge of all her fame and fortune through the whole evening, and if quick enough to keep her from looking at her cards when the deal began, he must direct her in whatever was to be done with them in the end of it. He was in high spirits, doing everything with happy ease and preeminent in all the lively turns, quick responses, and playful imprudence that could do honour to the game, and as the round table was altogether a very comfortable contrast to the steady sobriety and orderly silence of the other. Twice had Sir Thomas inquired into the enjoyment and success of his lady, but in vain. No pause was long enough for the time his measured manner needed, and very little of her state could be known till Mrs. Grant was able, at the end of the first rubber, to go to her and pay her compliments. I hope your ladyship is pleased with the game. Oh dear, yes! Very entertaining indeed. A very odd game. I do not know what it is all about. I'm never to see my cards, and Mr. Crawford does all the rest. Bertram said Crawford some time afterwards, taking the opportunity of a little langer in the game. I have never told you what happened to me yesterday in my ride home. They had been hunting together, and were in the midst of a good run, and at some distance from Mansfield, when his horse being found to have flung a shoe, Henry Crawford had been obliged to give up and make the best of his way back. I told you I lost my way after passing that old farmhouse with the yew trees, because I can never bear to ask. But I have not told you that, with my usual luck, for I never do wrong without gaining by it, I found myself in due time in the very place which I had a curiosity to see. I was suddenly, upon turning the corner of a steepish downy field, in the midst of a retired little village between gently rising hills, a small stream before me to be forwarded, a church standing on a sort of knoll to my right, which church was strikingly large and handsome for the place, and not a gentleman or half a gentleman's house to be seen excepting one, to be presumed the parsonage within a stone's throw of the said knoll and church. I found myself, in short, in Thornton Lacy. Sounds like it, said Edmund. But which way did you turn after passing Sewell's Farm? I answered no such irrelevant and insidious questions. Though were I to answer all that you could put in the course of an hour, you would never be able to prove that it was not Thornton Lacy, for such it certainly was. You inquired, then? No, I never inquired. But I told a man, mending a hedge, that it was Thornton Lacy, and he agreed to it. You have a good memory. I had forgotten having ever told you half so much of the place. Thornton Lacy was the name of his impending living, as Miss Crawford well knew, and her interest in a negotiation for William Price's nave increased. Well, continued Edmund. And how did you like what you saw? Very much indeed. You are a lucky fellow. There will be work for five summers at least before the place is liveable. No, no, not so bad as that. The farm yard must be moved, I grant you. But I am not aware of anything else. The house is by no means bad, and when the yard is removed, there may be a very tolerable approach to it. The farm yard must be cleared away entirely, and planted up to shut out the blacksmith's shop. The house must be turned to front the east instead of the north. The entrance and principal rooms, I mean, must be on that side, where the view is really very pretty. I am sure it may be done, and there must be your approach through what is at present the garden. You must make a new garden at what is now the back of the house, which will be giving it the best aspect in the world sloping to the southeast. The ground seems precisely formed for it. I rode fifty yards up the lane between the church and the house in order to look about me and saw how it might all be. Nothing can be easier. The meadows beyond what will be the garden, as well as what now is, sweeping round from the lane I stood into the northeast, that is, to the principal road through the village. Must be all laid together, of course, very pretty meadows they are, finely sprinkled with timber. They belong to the living, I suppose. If not, you must purchase them. Then the stream, something must be done with the stream, but I could not quite determine what. I had two or three ideas. And I have two or three ideas also, said Edmund, and one of them is that very little of your plan for Thornton Lacy will ever be put in practice. I must be satisfied with rather less ornament and beauty. I think the house and premises may be made comfortable and given the air of a gentleman's residence without any very heavy expense, and that must suffice me, and I hope may suffice all who care about me. Miss Crawford, a little suspicious and resentful of a certain town of voice, and a certain half-look attending the last expression of his hope, made a hasty finish of her dealings with William Price, and securing his nave at an exorbitant rate, exclaimed, There! I will stake my last like a woman of spirit, no cold prudence for me. I am not born to sit still and do nothing. If I lose the game, it shall not be from not striving for it. The game was hers, and only did not pay her for what she had given to secure it. Another deal proceeded, and Crawford began again about Thornton Lacy. My plan may not be the best possible I had not many minutes to form it in. But you must do a good deal, the place deserves it, and you will find yourself not satisfied with much less than it is capable of. Excuse me, your ladyship must not see your cards. There, let them lie just before you. The place deserves it, Bertram. You talk of giving it the air of a gentleman's residence. That will be done by the removal of the farmyard, for, independent of that terrible nuisance, I never saw a house of the kind which had in itself so much the air of a gentleman's residence, so much the look of a something above a mere parsonage house, above the expenditure of a few hundreds a year. It is not a scrambling collection of low single rooms, with as many roofs as windows. It is not cramped into the vulgar compactness of a square farmhouse. It is a solid, roomy, mansion-like looking house, such as one might suppose a respectable old country family had lived in from generation to generation, through two centuries at least, and were now spending from two to three thousand a year in. Miss Crawford listened, and Edmund agreed to this. The air of a gentleman's residence, therefore, you cannot forgive it if you do anything. But it is capable of much more. Let me see, Mary. Lady Bertram bids a dozen for that queen. No, no, a dozen is more than it is worth. Lady Bertram does not bid a dozen. She will have nothing to say to it. Go on, go on. But some improvements, as I have suggested, I do not really require you to proceed upon my plan, though, by the by. I doubt anybody striking out a better. You may give it a higher character. You may raise it into a place. From being the mere gentleman's residence it becomes, by judicious improvement, the residence of a man of education, taste, modern manners, good connections. All this may be stamped on it. And that house receives such an air as to make its owner be set down as the great landholder of the parish by every creature travelling the road, especially as there is no real squire's house to dispute the point, a circumstance between ourselves to enhance the value of such a situation in point of privilege and independence beyond all calculation. You think with me, I hope. Turning with a softened voice to Fanny. Have you ever seen the place? Fanny gave a quick negative and tried to hide her interest in the subject by an eager attention to her brother, who was driving his heart to bark in and imposing on her as much as he could. But Crawford pursued with— No, no, you must not part with the queen. You have bought her too dearly, and your brother does not offer half her value. No, no, sir, hands off, hands off. Your sister does not part with the queen. She is quite determined. The game will be yours. Turning to her again. It will certainly be yours. And Fanny had much rather will Williams. Said Edmund, smiling at her. Poor Fanny not allowed to cheat herself as she wishes. Mr. Bertram, said Miss Crawford a few minutes afterwards, You know, Henry, to be such a capital improver, that you cannot possibly engage in anything of the sort at Thornton Lacy without accepting his help. Only think how useful he was at Southerton. Only think what grand things were produced there by her all going with him one hot day in August to drive about the grounds and see his genius take fire. There we went, and there we came home again, and what was done there is not to be told. Fanny's eyes were turned on Crawford for a moment with an expression more than grave, even reproachful, but on catching his were instantly withdrawn. With something of consciousness he shook his head at his sister and laughingly replied, I cannot say there was much done at Southerton, but it was a hot day, and we were all walking after each other and bewildered. As soon as a general buzz gave him shelter, he added, in a low voice, directed solely at Fanny. I should be sorry to have my powers of planning judged off by the day at Southerton. I see things very differently now. Do not think of me as I appeared then. Southerton was a word to catch Mrs. Norris, and being just then in the happy leisure which followed securing the odd trick by Sir Thomas's capital play and her own against Doctor and Mrs. Grant's great hands, she called out in high good humour. Southerton, yes, that is the place indeed, and we had a charming day there. William, you were quite out of luck, but the next time you come, I hope dear Mr. and Mrs. Rushworth will be at home, and I'm sure I can answer for your being kindly received by both. Your cousins are not of a sort to forget their relations, and Mr. Rushworth is a most amiable man. They are at Brighton now, you know, in one of the best houses there, as Mr. Rushworth's fine fortune gives them a right to be. I do not exactly know the distance, but when you get back to Portsmouth, if it is not very far off, you ought to go over and pay your respects to them, and I could send a little parcel by you that I want to get conveyed to your cousins. I should be very happy, Aunt, but Brighton is almost by beachy head, and if I could get so far I could not expect to be welcome in such a smart place as that. Poor scrubby midshipman as I am. Mrs. Norris was beginning an eager assurance of the affability he might depend upon when she was stopped by Sir Thomas's saying with authority. I do not advise you're going to Brighton, William, as I trust you may soon have more convenient opportunities of meeting. But my daughters would be happy to see their cousins anywhere, and you will find Mr. Rushworth most sincerely disposed to regard all the connections of our family as his own. I would rather find him private secretary to the First Lord than anything else. Was William's only answer in an under-voice, not meant to reach far, and the subject dropped? As yet Sir Thomas had seen nothing to remark in Mr. Crawford's behaviour, but when the whist-table broke up at the end of the second rubber, and leaving Dr. Grant and Mrs. Norris to dispute over their last play, he became a looker on at the other. He found his neat the object of attentions, or rather of professions, of a somewhat pointed character. Henry Crawford was in the first globe another scheme about Thornton Lacy, and not being able to catch Edmund's ear was detailing it to his fair neighbour with a look of considerable earnestness. His scheme was to rent the house himself the following winter, that he might have a home of his own in that neighbourhood, and it was not merely for the use of it in the hunting season, as he was then telling her, though that consideration had certainly some weight, feeling as he did that, in spite of all Dr. Grant's very great kindness, it was impossible for him and his horses to be accommodated where they now were without material inconvenience. But his attachment to that neighbourhood did not depend upon one amusement or one season of the year. He had set his heart upon having a something there that he could come to at any time, a little home-stall at his command where all the holidays of his year might be spent, and he might find himself continuing, improving, and perfecting that friendship and intimacy with the Mansfield Park family which was increasing in value to him every day. Sir Thomas heard, and was not offended. There was no want of respect in the young man's address, and Fanny's reception of it was so proper and modest, so calm and uninviting that he had nothing to censure in her. She said little, assented only here and there, and betrayed no inclination either of appropriating any part of the compliment to herself or of strengthening his views in favour of Northamptonshire. Finding by whom he was observed, Henry Crawford addressed himself on the same subject to Sir Thomas in a more everyday tone, but still with feeling. Sir Thomas, as you have perhaps heard me telling Miss Price, may I hope for your acquiescence and for your not influencing your son against such a tenant? Sir Thomas politely bowing replied, It is the only way, sir, in which I could not wish you established as a permanent neighbour, but I hope and believe that Edmund will occupy his own house at Thornton Lathey. Edmund, am I saying too much? Edmund on this appeal would first to hear what was going on, but on understanding the question was it no loss for an answer? Certainly, sir, I have no idea of residence. But Crawford, though I refuse you as a tenant, come to me as a friend. Consider the house as half your own every winter, and we will add to the stables on your own improved plan, and with all the improvements to your improved plan that may occur to you this spring. We shall be the losers. Continued, Sir Thomas. I think, though only eight miles will be an unwelcome contraction of our family circle, but I should have been deeply mortified if any son of mine could reconcile himself to doing less. It is perfectly natural that you should not have thought much on the subject, Mr. Crawford, but a parish has wants and claims which can be known only by a clergyman constantly resident and which no proxy can be capable of satisfying the same extent. Edmund might, in the common phrase, do the duty of Thornton, that is, he might read prayers and preach without giving up Mansfield Park. He might ride over every Sunday to a house nominally inhabited and go through divine service. He might be the clergyman of Thornton Lacey every seventh day for three or four hours if that would content him. But it will not. He knows that human nature needs more lessons than a weekly sermon can convey, that if he does not live among his parishioners and prove himself by constant attention their well-wisher and friend, he does very little either for their good or his own. Mr. Crawford bowed his acquiescence. I repeat again Added Sir Thomas that Thornton Lacey is the only house in the neighbourhood in which I should not be happy to wait on Mr. Crawford as occupier. Mr. Crawford bowed his thanks. Sir Thomas said Edmund undoubtedly understands the duty of a parish priest. We must hope that his son may prove that he knows it too. Whatever effect Sir Thomas's little harangue might really produce on Mr. Crawford it raised some awkward sensations in two of the others, two of his most attentive listeners Miss Crawford and Fanny one of whom having never before understood that Thornton was so soon and so completely to be his home was pondering with downcast eyes on what it would be not to see Edmund every day and the other startled from the agreeable fancy she'd been previously indulging on the strength of her brother's description no longer able in the picture she'd been forming of a future Thornton to shut out the church, sink the clergymen and see only the respectable, elegant, modernized and occasional residents of a man of independent fortune was considering Sir Thomas with decided ill will as the destroyer of all this and suffering the more from that involuntary forbearance which his character and manner commanded and from not daring to relieve herself by a single attempt at throwing ridicule on his cause. All the agreeable of her speculation was over for that hour. It was time to have done with cards if sermons prevailed necessary to come to a conclusion and be able to refresh her spirits by a change of place and neighbor. The chief of the party were now collected irregularly around the fire and awaiting the final break-up. William and Fanny were the most detached. They remained together at the otherwise deserted card-table, talking very comfortably and not thinking of the rest till some of the rest began to think of them. Henry Crawford's chair was the first to be given a direction towards them and he sat silently observing them for a few minutes, himself in the meanwhile, observed by Sir Thomas, who was standing in chat with Dr. Grant. This is the assembly-night, said William. If I were at Portsmouth I should be at it, perhaps. But you do not wish yourself at Portsmouth, William. No, Fanny, that I do not. I shall have enough of Portsmouth and of dancing, too, when I cannot have you. And I do not know that there would be any good in going to the assembly, for I might not get a partner. The Portsmouth girls turn up their noses at anybody who is not a commission. One might as well be nothing as a midshipman. One is nothing, indeed. You remember the Gregory's? They are grown up amazing fine girls, but they will hardly speak to me because Lucy is courted by a lieutenant. Oh, shame! Shame! But never mind it, William. Her own cheeks and a glow of indignation as she spoke. It is not worth minding. It is no reflection on you. It is no more than what the greatest admirals have all experienced, more or less, in their time. You must think of that. You must try to make up your mind to it as one of the hardships which fall to every sailor's share, like bad weather and hard living, only with this advantage that there will be an end to it, that there will come a time when you will have nothing of that sort to endure. When you are a lieutenant, only think, William, when you are a lieutenant, how little you will care for any nonsense of this kind. I begin to think I shall never be a lieutenant, Fanny. Everybody gets made, but me. Oh, my dear William, do not talk so. Do not be so desponding. My uncle says nothing, but I am sure he will do everything in his power to get you made. He knows as well as you do of what consequence it is. She was checked by the sight of her uncle much near to them than she had any suspicion of, and each found it necessary to talk of something else. Are you fond of dancing, Fanny? Yes, very. Only I am soon tired. I should like to go to a ball with you and see you dance. Have you never any balls at Northampton? I should like to see you dance, and I'd dance with you, if you would, for nobody would know who I was here, and I should like to be your partner once more. We used to jump about together many a time, did not we? When the hand organ was in the street? I am a pretty good dancer in my way, but I dare say you are a better. And turning to his uncle who was now close to them. Is not Fanny a very good dancer, sir? Fanny, in dismay at such an unprecedented question, did not know which way to look or how to be prepared for the answer. Some very grave reproof, or at least the coldest expression of indifference, must be coming to distress her brother and sink her to the ground. But on the contrary, it was no worse than— I am sorry to say that I am unable to answer your question. I have never seen Fanny dance since she was a little girl, but I trust we shall both think she acquits herself like a gentle woman when we do see her, which perhaps we may have an opportunity of doing ere long. I have had the pleasure of seeing your sister dance, Mr. Price. Said Henry Crawford, leaning forward, and will engage to answer every inquiry which you can make on the subject to your entire satisfaction. But I believe— Seeing Fanny looked distressed. It must be at some other time. There is one person in company who does not like to have Miss Price spoken of. True enough, he had once seen Fanny dance, and it was equally true that he would now have answered for her gliding about with quiet, light elegance and an admirable time. But in fact he could not for the life of him recall what her dancing had been, and rather took it for granted than remembered anything about her. He passed however for an admirer of her dancing, and Sir Thomas, by no means displeased, prolonged the conversation on dancing in general, and was so well engaged in describing the balls of Antigua and listening to what his nephew could relate of the different modes of dancing which had fallen within his observation that he had not heard his carriage announced and was first called to the knowledge of it by the bustle of Mrs. Norris. Come, Fanny! Fanny, what are you about? We are going! Do you not see your aunt is going? Quick, quick! I cannot bear to keep good old Wilcox waiting! You should always remember the coachmen and horses. My dear Sir Thomas, we have settled it that the carriage should come back for you and Edmund and William. Sir Thomas could not dissent, as it had been his own arrangement, previously communicated to his wife and sister. But that seemed forgotten by Mrs. Norris, who must fancy that she settle it all herself. Fanny's last feeling in the visit was disappointment, for the shawl which Edmund was quietly taking from the servant to bring and put round her shoulders was seized by Mr. Crawford's quicker hand, and she was obliged to be indebted to his more prominent attention. End of Chapter 25 Chapter 26 of Mansfield Park by Jane Austen This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. William's desire of seeing Fanny dance made more than a momentary impression on his uncle. The hope of an opportunity which Sir Thomas had then given was not given to be thought of no more. He remained steadily inclined to gratify so amiable a feeling, to gratify anybody else who might wish to see Fanny dance and to give pleasure to the young people in general, and having thought the matter over and taken his resolution in quiet independence, the result of it appeared the next morning at breakfast, when after recalling and commending as if you had said, he added, I do not like William that you should leave Northamptonshire without this indulgence. It would give me pleasure to see you both dance. You spoke of the balls at Northampton. Your cousins have occasionally attended them, but they would not altogether suit us now. The fatigue would be too much for your aunt. I believe we must not think of the Northampton ball. A dance at home would be more eligible, and if— Ah, my dear Sir Thomas! Interrupted, Mrs. Norris. I knew what was coming. I knew what you were going to say. If dear Julia were at home, or dearest Mrs. Rushworth at Southerton, to afford a reason and occasion for such a thing, you would be tempted to give the young people a dance at Mansfield. I know you would. If they were at home to grace a ball, a ball you would have this very Christmas. Thank your uncle, William. Thank your uncle. My daughters— Replied, Sir Thomas, gravely interposing. Have their pleasures at Brighton, and I hope are very happy. But the dance which I think of giving at Mansfield will be for their cousins. Could we be all assembled our satisfaction would undoubtedly be more complete, but the absence of some is not to debar the others of amusement. Mrs. Norris had not another word to say. She saw a decision in his looks, and her surprise and vexation required some minute silence to be settled into composure. A ball at such a time? His daughter's absent and herself not consulted? There was comfort, however, soon at hand. She must be the doer of everything. Lady Bertram would, of course, be spared all thought and exertion, and it would all fall upon her. She would have to do the honours of the evening, and this reflection quickly restored so much of her good humour as enabled her to join in with the others before their happiness and thanks were all expressed. Edmund, William and Fanny did, in their different ways, look and speak as much grateful pleasure in the promised ball as Sir Thomas could desire. Edmund's feelings were for the other two. His father had never conferred a favour or shown a kindness more to his satisfaction. Lady Bertram was perfectly quiescent and contented and had no objections to make. Sir Thomas engaged for its giving her very little trouble, and she assured him— She was not at all afraid of the trouble, indeed. She could not imagine there would be any. Mrs. Norris was ready with her suggestions as to the rooms he would think fittest to be used, but found it all pre-arranged. And when she would have conjectured and hinted about the day, it appeared that the day was settled too. Sir Thomas had been amusing himself with shaping a very complete outline of the business, and as soon as she would listen quietly could read his list of the families to be invited, from whom he calculated, with all necessary allowance for the shortness of the notice, to collect young people enough to form twelve or fourteen couple, and could detail the considerations which had induced him to fix on the twenty-second as the most eligible day. William was required to be at Portsmouth on the twenty-fourth. The twenty-second would therefore be the last day of his visit, and where the days were so few, it would be unwise to fix on any earlier. Mrs. Norris was obliged to be satisfied with thinking just the same, and with having been on the point of proposing the twenty-second herself as by far the best day for the purpose. The ball was now a settled thing, and before the evening a proclaimed thing to all whom it concerned. Invitations were sent with dispatch, and many a young lady went to bed that night with her head full of happy cares, as well as fanny. To her the cares were sometimes almost beyond the happiness, for young and inexperienced, with small means of choice and no confidence in her own taste, the— How she should be dressed! was a point of painful solicitude, and the almost solitary ornament in her possession, a very pretty amber cross which William had brought her from Sicily, was the greatest distress of all, for she had nothing but a bit of ribbon to fasten it to, and though she had worn it in that manner once, would it be allowable at such a time in the midst of all the rich ornaments which she supposed all the other young ladies would appear in? And yet not to wear it! William had wanted to buy her a gold chain too, but the purchase had been beyond his means, and therefore not to wear the cross might be mortifying him. These were anxious considerations, enough to sober her spirits even under the prospect of a ball given principally for her gratification. The preparations meanwhile went on, and Lady Bertram continued to sit on her sofa without any inconvenience from them. She had some extra visits from the housekeeper, and her maid was rather hurried in making up a new dress for her. Sir Thomas gave orders, and Mrs. Norris ran about, but all this gave her no trouble, and as she had foreseen— There was, in fact, no trouble in the business. Edmund was at this time particularly full of cares, his mind being deeply occupied in the consideration of two important events now at hand, which were to fix his fate in life, ordination, and matrimony— Events of such a serious character as to make the ball, which would be very quickly followed by one of them, appear of less moment in his eyes than in those of any other person in the house. On the twenty-third he was going to a friend near Peterborough, in the same situation as himself, and they were to receive ordination in the course of the Christmas week. Half his destiny would then be determined, but the other half might not be so very smoothly wooed. His duties would be established, but the wife, who was to share and animate and reward those duties, might yet be unattainable. He knew his own mind, but he was not always perfectly assured of knowing Miss Crawford's. There were points on which they did not quite agree. There were moments in which she did not seem propitious, and though trusting altogether to her affection, so far as to be resolved, almost resolved on bringing it to a decision within a very short time, as soon as the variety of business before him were arranged, and he knew what he had to offer her, he had many anxious feelings, many doubting hours as to the result. His conviction of her regard for him was sometimes very strong. He could look back on a long course of encouragement, and she was as perfect in disinterested attachment as in anything else. But at other times doubt and alarm intermingled with his hopes, and when he thought of her acknowledged disinclination for privacy and retirement, her decided preference of a London life, what could he expect but a determined rejection? Unless it were an acceptance even more to be deprecated, demanding such sacrifices of situation and employment on his side as conscience must forbid. The issue of all depended on one question. Did she love him well enough to forego what it used to be essential points? Did she love him well enough to make them no longer essential? And this question, which he was continually repeating to himself, though oftenest answered with a yes, had sometimes its no. Miss Crawford was soon to leave Mansfield, and on this circumstance the no and the yes had been very recently in alternation. He had seen her eyes sparkle as she spoke of the dear friend's letter which claimed a long visit from her in London and of the kindness of Henry in engaging to remain where he was till January that he might convey her thither. He had heard her speak of the pleasure of such a journey with an animation which had no in every tone. But this had occurred on the first day of its being settled within the first hour of the burst of such enjoyment when nothing but the friend she was to visit was before her. He had since heard her express herself differently with other feelings, more checkered feelings. He had heard her tell Miss's grant that she should leave her with regret, that she began to believe neither the friends nor the pleasure she was going to were worth though she left behind, and that though she felt she must go and knew she should enjoy herself when once away she was already looking forward to being at Mansfield again. Was there not a yes in all this? With such matters to ponder over and arrange and rearrange Edmund could not, on his own account, think very much of the evening which the rest of the family were looking forward to with a more equal degree of strong interest. Independent of his two cousins' enjoyment in it, the evening was to him of no higher value than any other appointed meeting of the two families might be. In every meeting there was a hope of receiving farther confirmation of Miss Crawford's attachment, but the whirl of a ballroom perhaps was not particularly favourable to the excitement or expression of serious feelings. To engage her early for the first two dances was all the command of individual happiness which he felt in his power and the only preparation for the ball which he could enter into, despite of all that was passing around him on the subject from morning till night. Thursday was the day of the ball and on Wednesday morning Fanny still unable to satisfy herself as to what she ought to wear determined to seek the counsel of the more enlightened and apply to Mrs. Grant and her sister whose acknowledged taste would certainly bear her blameless. And as Edmund and William were gone to Northampton and she had reason to think Mr. Crawford likewise out she walked down to the parsonage without much fear of wanting an opportunity for private discussion and the privacy of such a discussion was a most important part of it to Fanny being more than half ashamed of her own solicitude. She met Miss Crawford within a few yards of the parsonage just setting out to call on her and as it seemed to her that her friend though obliged to insist on turning back was unwilling to lose her walk she explained her business at once and observed that if she would be so kind as to give her opinion she all talked over as well without doors as within. Miss Crawford appeared gratified by the application and after a moment's thought urged Fanny's returning with her in a much more cordial manner than before and proposed their going up into her room where they might have a comfortable cause without disturbing Dr. and Mrs. Grant who were together in the drawing-room. It was just the plan to suit Fanny and with a great deal of gratitude on her side for such ready and kind attention they proceeded indoors and upstairs and were soon deep in the interesting subject. Miss Crawford, pleased with the appeal gave her all her best judgment and taste made everything easy by her suggestions and tried to make everything agreeable by her encouragement the dress being settled in all its grander parts but what shall you have by way of necklace? said Miss Crawford. Shall not you wear your brother's cross? and as she spoke she was undoing a small parcel which Fanny had observed in her hand when they met Fanny acknowledged her wishes and doubts on this point she did not know how either to wear the cross or to refrain from wearing it she was answered by having a small trinket box placed before her and being requested to choose from among several gold chains and necklaces such had been the parcel with which Miss Crawford was provided and such the object of her intended visit and in the kindest manner she now urged Fanny's taking one for the cross and to keep for her sake saying everything she could think of to obviate the scruples which were making Fanny start back at first with a look of horror at the proposal you see what a collection I have said she more by half than I ever use or think of I do not offer them as new I offer nothing but an old necklace you must forgive the liberty and oblige me Fanny still resisted and from her heart the gift was too valuable but Miss Crawford persevered and argued the case with so much affectionate earnestness through all the heads of William and the Cross and the ball and herself as to be finally successful Fanny found herself obliged to yield that she might not be accused of pride or indifference or some other littleness and having with modest reluctance giving her consent proceeded to make the selection she looked and looked longing to know which might be least valuable and was determined in her choice at last by Fanny seeing there was one necklace more frequently placed before her eyes than the rest it was of gold, prettily worked and though Fanny would have preferred a longer and a planer chain as more adapted for her purpose she hoped in fixing on this to be choosing what Miss Crawford least wished to keep Miss Crawford smiled her perfect approbation and hastened to complete the gift by putting the necklace round her and making her see how well it looked Fanny had not a word to say against its becomingness and accepting what remained of her scruples was exceedingly pleased with an acquisition so very apropos she would rather perhaps have been obliged to some other person but this was an unworthy feeling Miss Crawford had anticipated her wants with a kindness which proved her a real friend When I wear this necklace I shall always think of you said she and feel how very kind you were you must think of somebody else too when you wear that necklace replied Miss Crawford you must think of Henry for it was his choice in the first place he gave it to me and with the necklace I make over to you all the duty of remembering the original giver it is to be a family remembrancer the sister is not to be in your mind without bringing the brother to Fanny in great astonishment and confusion would have returned the present instantly to take what had been the gift of another person of a brother too impossible it must not be and with an eagerness and embarrassment quite diverting to her companion she laid down the necklace again on its cotton and seemed resolved either to take another or none at all Miss Crawford thought she had never seen a prettier consciousness my dear child said she laughing what are you afraid of do you think Henry will claim the necklace is mine and fancy you did not come honestly by it or are you imagining he would be too much flattered by seeing round your lovely throat an ornament which his money purchased three years ago before he knew there was such a throat in the world or perhaps looking archly you suspect a confederacy between us and that what I am now doing is with his knowledge and his desire with the deepest blushes Fanny protested against such a thought well then replied Miss Crawford more seriously but without at all believing her to convince me that you suspect no trick and are as unsuspicious of compliment as I have always found you take the necklace and say no more about it it's being a gift of my brother's need not make the smallest difference in your accepting it as I assure you it makes none in my willingness to part with it he is always giving me something or other I have such innumerable presence from him that it is quite impossible for me to value offer him to remember half and as for this necklace I do not suppose I have worn it six times it is very pretty but I never think of it and though you would be most heartily welcomed to any other in my trinket box you have happened to fix on the very one which, if I have a choice I would rather part with and see in your possession than any other say no more against it I entreat you such a trifle is not worth half so many words Fanny dared not make any farther opposition and with renewed but less happy thanks except in the necklace again for there was an expression in Miss Crawford's eyes which she could not be satisfied with it was impossible for her to be insensible of Mr. Crawford's change of manners she had long seen it he evidently tried to please her he was gallant, he was attentive he was something like what he had been to her cousins he wanted she suppose to cheat her of her tranquillity as he had cheated them and whether he might not have some concern in this necklace she could not be convinced that he had not for Miss Crawford, complacent as a sister was careless as a woman and a friend reflecting and doubting and feeling that the possession of what she had so much wished for did not bring much satisfaction she now walked home again with a change rather than a diminution of cares since her treading that path before of Mansfield Park by Jane Austen this LibriVox recording is in the public domain on reaching home Fanny went immediately upstairs to deposit this unexpected acquisition this doubtful good of a necklace in some favourite box in the East Room which held all her smaller treasures but on opening the door what was her surprise to find her cousin Edmund there writing at the table such a sight having never occurred before was almost as wonderful as it was welcome Fanny said he directly leaving his seat and his pen and meeting her with something in his hand I beg your pardon for being here I came to look for you and after waiting a little while in hope of your coming in was making use of your ink stand to explain my errand you will find the beginning of a note to yourself but I can now speak my business which is merely to beg your acceptance of this little trifle a chain for Williams Cross you ought to have had it a week ago but there has been a delay for my brothers not being in town by several days so soon as I expected and I've only just now received it at Northampton I hope you will like the chain itself Fanny I endeavour to consult the simplicity of your taste but at any rate I know you will be kind to my intentions and consider it as it really is a token of the love of one of your o' this strength and so saying he was hurrying away before Fanny overpowered by a thousand feelings of pain and pleasure could attempt to speak but quickened by one sovereign wish she then called out oh cousin stop a moment pray stop he turned back I cannot attempt to thank you she continued in a very agitated manner thanks are out of the question I feel much more than I can possibly express your goodness in thinking of me in such a way as beyond if that is all you have to say Fanny smiling and turning away again no no it is not I want to consult you almost unconsciously she had now undone the parcel he had just put into her hand and seeing before her in all the niceness of jewelers packing a plain gold chain perfectly simple and neat she could not help bursting forth again oh this is beautiful indeed this is the very thing precisely what I wished for this is the only ornament I have ever had a desire to possess it will exactly suit my cross they must and shall be worn together it comes to in such an acceptable moment oh cousin you do not know how acceptable it is my dear Fanny you feel these things a great deal too much I am most happy that you like the chain and that it should be here in time for tomorrow but your thanks are far beyond the occasion believe me I have no pleasure in the world superior to that of contributing to yours no I can safely say I have no pleasure so complete so unalloyed it is without a drawback upon such expressions of affection Fanny could have lived an hour without saying another word but Edmund after waiting a moment obliged her to bring down her mind from its heavenly flight by saying but what is it that you wish to consult me about it was about the necklace which she was now most earnestly longing to return and hoped to obtain his approbation of her doing she gave the history of her recent visit and now her raptures might well be over for Edmund was so struck with the circumstance so delighted with what Miss Crawford had done so gratified by such a coincidence of conduct between them that Fanny could not but admit the superior power of one pleasure over his own mind though it might have its drawback it was some time before she could get his attention to her plan or any answer to her demand of his opinion he was in a reverie of fond reflection uttering only now and then a few half sentences of praise but when he did awake and understand he was very decided in opposing what she wished return the necklace no my dear Fanny upon no account it would be mortifying her severely there can hardly be a more unpleasant sensation than having anything returned on our hands which we have given with a reasonable hope of its contributing to the comfort of a friend why should she lose a pleasure which she has shown herself so deserving of if it had been given to me in the first instance said Fanny I should not have thought of returning it but being her brother's present is not it fair to suppose that she would rather not part with it when it is not wanted she must not suppose it not wanted not acceptable at least and it's having been originally her brother's gift makes no difference for as she was not prevented from offering nor you from taking it on that account it ought not to prevent you from keeping it no doubt it is handsomer than mine and fit her for a ballroom no it is not handsomer not at all handsomer in its way and for my purpose not half so fit the chain will agree with William's cross beyond all comparison better than the necklace for one night Fanny for only one night if it be a sacrifice I'm sure you will upon consideration make that sacrifice rather than give pain to one who's been so studious of your comfort Miss Crawford's attentions to you have been not more than you were just the entitled to I'm the last person to think that could be but they have been invariable and to be returning them with what must have something the heir of ingratitude though I know it would never have the meaning is not in your nature I'm sure wear the necklace as you're engaged to do tomorrow evening and let the chain which was not ordered with any reference to the ball be kept for commoner occasions this is my advice I would not have the shadow of a coolness between the two whose intimacy I have been observing with the greatest pleasure and in his characters there is so much general resemblance in true generosity and natural delicacy as to make the few slight differences resulting principally from situation no reasonable hindrance to a perfect friendship I would have not the shadow of a coolness arise he repeated his voice sinking a little between the two dearest objects I have on earth he was gone as he spoke and Fanny remained to tranquilize herself as she could she was one of his two dearest that must support her but the other the first she had never heard him speak so openly before and though it told her no more than what she had long perceived it was a stab for it told of his own convictions and views they were decided he would marry Miss Crawford it was a stab in spite of every long-standing expectation and she was obliged to repeat again and again that she was one of his two dearest before the words gave her any sensation could she believe Miss Crawford to deserve him it would be oh how different it would be how far more tolerable but he was deceived in her he gave her merits which she had not the faults were what they had ever been but he saw them no longer till she had shed many tears over this deception Fanny could not subdue her agitation and the dejection which followed could only be relieved by the influence of fervent prayers for his happiness it was her intention as she felt it to be her duty to try to overcome all that was excessive all that bordered on selfishness in her affection for Edmund to call or to fancy it a loss a disappointment would be a presumption for which she had not word strong enough to satisfy her own humility to think of him as Miss Crawford might be justified in thinking would in her be insanity to her he could be nothing under any circumstances nothing dearer than a friend why did such an idea occur to her even enough to be repropaid and forbidden it ought not to have touched on the confines of her imagination she would endeavour to be rational and to deserve the right of judging of Miss Crawford's character and the privilege of true solicitude for him by a sound intellect and an honest heart she had all the heroism of principle and was determined to do her duty but having also many of the feelings of youth and nature let her not be much wondered at if after making all these good resolutions on the side of self-government she seized the scrap of paper on which Edmund had begun writing to her as a treasure beyond all her hopes and reading with the very tenderest emotion these words my very dear Fanny you must do me the favour to accept locked it up with the chain as the dearest part of the gift it was the only thing approaching to a letter which she had ever received from him she might never receive another it was impossible that she should ever receive another so perfectly gratifying in the occasion and the style two lines more prized had never fallen from the pen of the most distinguished author never more completely blessed the researches of the fondest biographer the enthusiasm of a woman's love is even beyond the biographers to her the handwriting itself independent of anything it may convey is a blessedness never were such characters cut by any other human being as Edmund's commonest handwriting gave this specimen written in haste as it was had not a fault and there was a felicity in the flow of the first four words in the arrangement of my very dear Fanny which she could have looked at forever having regulated her thoughts and comforted her feelings by this happy mixture of reason and weakness she was able in due time to go down and resume her usual employments near her aunt Bertram and pay her the usual observances without any apparent want of spirits Thursday predestined to hope and enjoyment came and opened with more kindness to Fanny than such self-willed unmanageable days often volunteer for soon after breakfast a very friendly note was brought from Mr. Crawford to William stating that as he found himself obliged to go to London on the morrow for a few days he could not help trying to procure a companion and therefore hoped that if William could make up his mind to leave Mansfield half a day earlier than had been proposed he would accept a place in his carriage Mr. Crawford meant to be in town by his uncle's a customary late dinner hour and William was invited to dine with him at the admirals the proposal was a very pleasant one to William himself who enjoyed the idea of travelling post with four horses and such a good humour-degreable friend and in likening it to going up with dispatches was saying at once everything in favour of its happiness and dignity which his imagination could suggest and Fanny, from a different motive, was exceedingly pleased for the original plan was that William should go up by the mail from Northampton the following night which would not have allowed him an hour's rest before he must have got into a Portsmouth coach and though this offer of Mr. Crawford's would rob her of many hours of his company she was too happy in having William spared from the fatigue of such a journey to think of anything else Sir Thomas approved of it for another reason his nephew's introduction to Admiral Crawford might be of service the admiral, he believed, had interest in the whole it was a very joyous note Fanny's spirits lived on it half the morning driving some accession of pleasure from its writer being himself to go away as for the ball so near at hand she had too many agitations and fears to have half the enjoyment and anticipation which she ought to have had or must have been supposed to have by the many young ladies looking forward to the same event in situations more at ease but under circumstances of less novelty, less interest, less peculiar gratification then would be attributed to her Miss Price, known only by name to half the people invited was now to make her first appearance and must be regarded as the queen of the evening who could be happier than Miss Price but Miss Price had not been brought up to the trade of coming out and had she known in what light this ball was in general considered respecting her it would very much have lessened her comfort by increasing the fears she already had of doing wrong and being looked at to dance without much observation or extraordinary fatigue to have strength and partners for about half the evening to dance a little with Edmund and not a great deal with Mr. Crawford to see William enjoy himself and be able to keep away from her Aunt Norris was the height of her ambition and seemed to comprehend her greatest possibility of happiness as these were the best of her hopes they could not always prevail and in the course of a long morning spent principally with her two aunts she was often under the influence of much less sanguine views William determined to make this last day a day of thorough enjoyment was out snip-shooting Edmund she had too much reason to suppose was at the parsonage and left alone to bear the worrying of Mrs. Norris who was cross because the housekeeper would have her own way with the supper and whom she could not avoid though the housekeeper might Fanny was worn down at last to think everything in evil belonging to the ball and when sent off with a parting worry to dress moved as languidly towards her own room and felt as incapable of happiness as if she had been allowed no share in it as she walked slowly upstairs she thought of yesterday it had been about the same hour that she had returned from the parsonage and found Edmund in the East Room suppose I were to find him there again today said she to herself in a fond indulgence of fancy Fanny said a voice at that moment near her starting and looking up she saw across the lobby she had just reached Edmund himself standing at the head of a different staircase he came towards her you look tired and fagged Fanny you've been walking too far no I have not been out at all then you've had fatigues with doors which are worse you had better have gone out Fanny not liking to complain found it easiest to make no answer and though he looked at her with his usual kindness she believed he had soon ceased to think of her countenance he did not appear in spirits something unconnected with her was probably amiss they proceeded upstairs together their rooms being on the same floor above I come from Dr. Grant's said Edmund presently you may guess my errand there Fanny and he looked so conscious that Fanny could think but of one errand which turned her too sick for speech I wished to engage Miss Crawford for the first two dances was the explanation that followed and brought Fanny to life again enabling her as she found she was expected to speak to utter something like an inquiry as to the result yes he answered she's engaged to me but with a smile that did not sit easy she says it is to be the last time that she ever will dance with me she's not serious I think I hope I'm sure she's not serious but I would rather not hear it she never has danced with a clergyman she says and she never will for my own sake I could wish there had been no ball at all I mean not this very week this very day tomorrow I leave home Fanny struggled for speech and said I am very sorry that anything has occurred to distress you this ought to be a day of pleasure my uncle meant it so oh yes yes and it will be a day of pleasure it will all end right I'm only vexed for a moment in fact it is not that I consider the ball as ill-timed what does it signify but Fanny stopping her by taking her hand and speaking low and seriously you know what all this means you see how it is and could tell me perhaps better than I could tell you how and why I am vexed let me talk to you a little you are a kind kind listener I have been pained by her manner this morning and cannot get the better of it I know her disposition to be as sweet and faultless as your own but the influence of her former companions makes her seem gives to her conversation, to her professed opinions sometimes a tinge of wrong she does not think evil but she speaks it speaks it in playfulness I know it to be playful as it grieves me to the soul the effect of education said Fanny gently Edmund could not but agree to it yes that uncle and aunt they have injured the finest mind for sometimes Fanny I own to you it does appear more than manner it appears as if the mind itself was tainted Fanny imagined this to be an appeal to her judgment and therefore after a moment's consideration said if you only want me as a listener cousin I will be as useful as I can but I am not qualified for an advisor do not ask advice of me I am not competent you are right Fanny to protest against such an office but you need not be afraid it is a subject on which I should never ask advice it is the sort of subject on which it had better never be asked and few I imagine do ask it but when they want to be influenced against their conscience I only want to talk to you one thing more excuse the liberty but take care how you talk to me do not tell me anything now which hereafter you may be sorry for the time may come the color rushed into her cheeks as she spoke dearest Fanny cried Edmund pressing her hand to his lips with almost as much warmth as if it had been Miss Crawford's you are all considerate thought but it is unnecessary here that time will never come no such time as you are lewd to will ever come I begin to think it most improbable the chances grow less and less and even if it should there will be nothing to be remembered by either you or me that we need to be afraid of for I can never be ashamed of my own scruples and if they are removed it must be by changes that will only raise her character the more by the recollection of the faults she once had you are the only being upon earth to whom I should say what I have said but you have always known my opinion of her you can bear me witness Fanny that I have never been blinded how many a time have we talked over her little errors you need not fear me I've almost given up every serious idea of her but I must be a blockhead indeed if whatever befell me I could think of your kindness and sympathy without the sincerest gratitude he had said enough to shake the experience of 18 he had said enough to give Fanny some happier feelings than she had lately known and with a brighter look she answered yes cousin I am convinced that you would be incapable of anything else though perhaps some might not I cannot be afraid of hearing anything you wish to say do not check yourself tell me whatever you like they were now on the second floor and the appearance of a housemaid prevented any farther conversation for Fanny's present comfort it was concluded perhaps at the happiest moment had he been able to talk another five minutes there is no saying that he might not have talked away all Miss Crawford's faults and his own despondence but as it was they parted with looks on his side of grateful affection and with some very precious sensations on hers she had felt nothing like it for hours since the first joy for Mr. Crawford's note to William had worn away she had been in a state absolutely the reverse there had been no comfort around no hope within her now everything was smiling her good fortune returned again upon her mind and seemed of greater value than at first the ball too such an evening of pleasure before her it was now a real animation and she began to dress for it with much of the happy flutter which belongs to a ball all went well she did not dislike her own looks and when she came to the necklaces again her good fortune seemed complete for upon trial the one given her by Miss Crawford would by no means go through the ring of the cross she had to oblige Edmund resolved to wear it but it was too large for the purpose his therefore must be worn and having with delightful feelings joined the chain and the cross those memorials of the two most beloved of her heart those dearest tokens so formed for each other by everything real and imaginary and put them round her neck and seen and felt how full of William and Edmund they were she was able without an effort to resolve on wearing Miss Crawford's necklace too she acknowledged it to be right Miss Crawford had a claim and when it was no longer to encroach on to interfere with the stronger claims the truer kindness of another she could do her justice even with pleasure to herself the necklace really looked very well and Fanny left her room at last comfortably satisfied with herself and all about her her aunt Bertram had recollected her on this occasion with an unusual degree of wakefulness it had really occurred to her unprompted that Fanny preparing for a ball might be glad of better health than the upper housemaids and when dressed herself she actually sent her own maid to assist her too late of course to be of any use Mrs. Chapman had just reached the attic floor when Miss Price came out of her room completely dressed and only civilities were necessary but Fanny felt her aunt's attention almost as much as Lady Bertram or Mrs. Chapman could do themselves this LibriVox recording is in the public domain her uncle and both her aunts were in the drawing room when Fanny went down to the former she was an interesting object and he saw with pleasure the general elegance of her appearance and her being in remarkably good looks the neatness and propriety of her dress was all that he would allow himself to commend in her presence but upon her leaving the room again so soon afterwards he spoke of her beauty with very decided praise yes said Lady Bertram she looks very well I sent Chapman to her look well oh yes cried Mrs. Norris she has good reason to look well with all her advantages brought up in this family as she has been with all the benefits of her cousin's manners before her only think my dear Sir Thomas what extraordinary advantages you and I have been the means of giving her the very gown you have been taking notice of is your own generous present to her when dear Mrs. Rushworth married what would she have been if we had not taken her by the hand Sir Thomas said no more but when they sat down to table the eyes of the two young men assured him that the subject might be gently touched again when the ladies withdrew with more success Fanny saw that she was approved and the consciousness of looking well made her look still better from a variety of causes she was happy and she was soon made still happier for in following her aunts out of the room Edmund who was holding open the door said as she passed him you must dance with me Fanny you must keep two dances for me any two that you like except the first she had nothing more to wish for she had hardly ever been in a state so nearly approaching high spirits in her life her cousin's former gaiety on the day of a ball was no longer surprising to her she felt it to be indeed very charming and was actually practising her steps about the drawing room as long as she could be safe from the notice of her aunt Norris who was entirely taken up at first and fresh arranging and injuring the noble fire which the butler had prepared half an hour followed that would have been at least languid under any other circumstances but Fanny's happiness still prevailed it was but to think of her conversation with Edmund and what was the restlessness of Mrs. Norris what were the yawns of Lady Bertram the gentleman joined them and soon after began the sweet expectation of a carriage when a general spirit of ease and enjoyment seemed diffused and they all stood about and talked and laughed and every moment had its pleasure and its hope Fanny felt that there must be a struggle in Edmund's cheerfulness but it was delightful to see the effort so successfully made when the carriages were really heard when the guests began really to assemble her own gaiety of heart was much subdued the sight of so many strangers threw her back into herself and besides the gravity and formality of the first great circle which the manners of neither Sir Thomas nor Lady Bertram were of a kind to do away she found herself occasionally called on to endure something worse she was introduced here and there by her uncle and forced to be spoken to and to curtsy and speak again this was a hard duty and she was never summoned to it without looking at William as he walked about at his ease in the background of the scene and longing to be with him the entrance of the grants and the Crawfords was a favourable epoch the stiffness of the meeting soon gave way before their popular manners and more diffused intimacies little groups were formed and everybody grew comfortable Fanny felt the advantage and drawing back from the toils of civility would have been again most happy could she have kept her eyes from wandering between Edmund and Mary Crawford she looked all loveliness and what might not be the end of it her own musings were brought to an end on perceiving Mr. Crawford before her and her thoughts were put into another channel by his engaging her almost instantly for the first two dances her happiness on this occasion was very much à la mortal finally checkered to be secure of a partner at first was a most essential good for the moment of beginning was now growing seriously near and she so little understood her own claims as to think that if Mr. Crawford had not asked her she must have been the last to be sought after and should have received a partner only through a series of inquiry and counsel and interference which would have been terrible but at the same time there was a pointedness in his manner of asking her which she did not like and she saw his eye glancing for a moment at her necklace with a smile she thought there was a smile which made her blush and feel wretched and though there was no second glance to disturb her though his object seemed then to be only quietly agreeable she could not get the better of her embarrassment heightened as it was by the idea of his perceiving it and had no composure till he turned away to someone else then she could gradually rise up to the genuine satisfaction of having a partner a voluntary partner secured against the dancing began when the company were moving into the ballroom she found herself for the first time near Miss Crawford whose eyes and smiles were immediately and more unequivocally directed as her brothers had been and who was beginning to speak on the subject when Fanny, anxious to get the story over hastened to give the explanation of the second necklace the real chain Miss Crawford listened and all her intended compliments and insinuations to Fanny were forgotten she only felt one thing and her eyes bright as they had been before showed they could yet be brighter she exclaimed with eager pleasure did he? did Edmund? that was like himself no other man would have thought of it I honour him beyond expression and she looked around as if longing to tell him so he was not near he was attending a party of ladies out of the room and Mrs. Grant coming up to the two girls and taking an arm of each they followed with the rest Fanny's heart sunk but there was no leisure for thinking long even of Miss Crawford's feelings they were in the ballroom the violins were playing and her mind was in a flutter that forbade its fixing on anything serious she must watch the general arrangements and see how everything was done in a few minutes Sir Thomas came to her and asked if she were engaged and the yes sir to Mr. Crawford was exactly what he had intended to hear Mr. Crawford was not far off Sir Thomas brought him to her saying something which discovered to Fanny that she was to lead the way and open the ball an idea that had never occurred to her before whenever she had thought of the minutia of the evening it had been as a matter of course that Edmund would begin with Miss Crawford and the impression was so strong that though her uncle spoke the contrary she could not help an exclamation of surprise a hint of her unfitness an entreaty even to be excused to be urging her opinion against Sir Thomas's was a proof of the extremity of the case but such was her horror at the first suggestion that she could actually look him in the face and say that she hoped it might be settled otherwise in vain however Sir Thomas smiled tried to encourage her and looked too serious and said too decidedly it must be so my dear for her to hazard another word and she found herself the next moment conducted by Mr. Crawford to the top of the room and standing there to be joined by the rest of the dancers couple after couple as they were formed she could hardly believe it to be placed above so many elegant young women the distinction was too great it was treating her like her cousins and her thoughts flew to those absent cousins with most unfaigned and truly tender regret that they were not at home to take their own place in the room and have their share of a pleasure which would have been so very delightful to them so often as she had heard them wish for a ball at home as the greatest of all felicities and to have them away when it was given and for her to be opening the ball and with Mr. Crawford too she hoped they would not end to be her that distinction now but when she looked back to the state of things in the autumn to what they had all been to each other when once dancing in that house before the present arrangement was almost more than she could understand herself the ball began it was rather honour than happiness to Fanny for the first dance at least her partner was in excellent spirits and tried to impart them to her but she was a great deal too much frightened to have any enjoyment till she could suppose herself no longer looked at young, pretty and gentle however she had no awkwardnesses that were not as good and there were few persons present that were not disposed to praise her she was attractive she was modest she was Sir Thomas's niece and she was soon said to be admired by Mr. Crawford it was enough to give her general favour Sir Thomas himself was watching her progress down the dance with much complacency he was proud of his niece and without attributing all her personal beauty as Mrs. Norris seemed to do to her transplantation to Mansfield he was pleased with himself for having supplied everything else education and manners she owed to him Miss Crawford saw much of Sir Thomas's thoughts as he stood and having in spite of all his wrongs towards her a general prevailing desire of recommending herself to him took an opportunity of stepping aside to say something agreeable of Fanny her praise was warm and he received it as she could wish joining in it as far as discretion and politeness and slowness of speech would allow and certainly appearing to greater advantage as he did soon afterwards when Mary, perceiving her on the sofa very near turned round before she began to dance to compliment her on Miss Price's looks Yes, she does look very well was Lady Bertram's placid reply Chapman helped her to dress I sent Chapman to her not but that she was really pleased to have Fanny admired but she was so much more struck with her own kindness and sending Chapman to her that she could not get it out of her head Miss Crawford knew Mrs. Norris too well to think of gratifying her by commendation of Fanny to her it was as the occasion offered Ah, mom how much we want dear Mrs. Rushworth and Julia tonight and Mrs. Norris paid her with as many smiles and courteous words as she had time for amid so much occupation as she found for herself in making up card tables giving hints to Sir Thomas and trying to move all the chaperones to a better part of the room Miss Crawford blundered most towards Fanny herself and her intentions to please she meant to be giving her little heart a happy flutter and filling her with sensations of delightful self-consequence and misinterpreting Fanny's blushes still thought she must be doing so when she went to her after the first two dances and said with a significant look Perhaps you can tell me why my brother goes to town to-morrow he says he has business there but will not tell me what time he ever denied me his confidence but this is what we all come to all are supplanted sooner or later now I must apply to you for information pray what is Henry going for Fanny protested her ignorance as steadily as her embarrassment allowed Why then? replied Miss Crawford laughing I must suppose to be purely for the pleasure of conveying your brother and of talking of you by the way Fanny was confused by the confusion of discontent while Miss Crawford wondered she did not smile and thought her over-anxious or thought her odd or thought her anything rather than insensible of pleasure and Henry's attentions Fanny had a good deal of enjoyment in the course of the evening but Henry's attentions had very little to do with it she would much rather not have been asked by him again so very soon and she wished he had not been obliged to suspect that his previous inquiries of Mrs. Norris about the supper-hour would make of securing her at that part of the evening but it was not to be avoided he made her feel that she was the object of all though she could not say that it was unpleasantly done that there was indelicacy or ostentation in his manner and sometimes when he talked of William he was really not unagreeable and showed even a warmth of heart which did him credit but still his attentions made no part of her satisfaction she was happy whenever she looked at William and saw how perfectly he was enjoying himself in every five minutes that she could walk about with him and hear his account of his partners she was happy in knowing herself admired and she was happy in having the two dances with Edmund still to look forward to during the greatest part of the evening her hand being so eagerly sought after that her indefinite engagement with him was in continual perspective she was happy even when they did take place but not for any flow of spirits on his side or any such expressions of tender gallantry as it blessed the morning his mind was fagged and her happiness sprung from being the friend with whom it could find repose I'm worn out with civility said he I've been talking incessantly all night and with nothing to say but with you Fanny there may be peace you will not want to be talked to let us have the luxury of silence Fanny would hardly even speak her agreement a weariness arising probably from the same feelings which he had acknowledged in the morning was peculiarly to be respected and they went down their two dances together with such sober tranquility as might satisfy any looker on that Sir Thomas had been bringing up no wife for his younger son the evening had afforded Edmund little pleasure Miss Crawford had been in gay spirits when they first danced together but it was not her gaiety that could do him good it rather sank than raised his comfort and afterwards for he found himself still impelled to seek her again she had absolutely pained him by her manner of speaking of the profession to which he was now on the point of belonging they had talked and they had been silent he had reasoned, she had ridiculed and they had parted at last with mutual vexation Fanny not able to refrain entirely from observing them had seen enough to be tolerably satisfied it was barbarous to be happy when Edmund was suffering yet some happiness must and would arise from the very conviction that he did suffer when her two dances with him were over her inclination and strength for more were pretty well at an end and Sir Thomas, having seen her walk rather than dance down the shortening set breathless and with her hand at her side gave his orders for her sitting down entirely from that time Mr. Crawford sat down likewise poor Fanny cried William coming for a moment to visit her and working away with his partner's fan as if for life how soon she has knocked up why, the sport has but just begun I hope we shall keep it up these two hours how can you be tired so soon so soon, my good friend said Sir Thomas producing his watch with all necessary caution it is three o'clock and your sister is not used to these sort of hours well then Fanny you shall not get up tomorrow before I go sleep as long as you can and never mind me oh William what did she think of being up before you set off oh yes Sir cried Fanny rising eagerly from her seat to be nearer her uncle I must get up and breakfast with him it will be the last time you know the last morning you had better not he is to have breakfasted and begun by half past nine Mr. Crawford I think you call for him at half past nine Fanny was too urgent however and had too many tears in her eyes for denial and it ended in a gracious well well which was permission yes half past nine said Crawford to William as the latter was leaving them and I should be punctual for there will be no kind sister to get up for me and in a lower tone to Fanny I shall have only a desolate house to hurry from your brother will find my ideas of time and his own very different tomorrow after a short consideration Sir Thomas asked Crawford to join the early breakfast party in that house instead of eating alone he should himself be of it and the readiness with which his invitation was accepted convinced him that the suspicions went he must confess to himself this very ball had in great measure sprung were well founded Mr. Crawford was in love with Fanny he had a pleasing anticipation of what would be his niece meanwhile did not thank him for what he had just done she had hoped to have William all to herself the last morning it would have been an unspeakable indulgence but though her wishes were overthrown there was no spirit of murmuring within her on the contrary she was so totally unused to have her pleasures consulted or to have anything take place at all in the way she could desire that she was more disposed to wonder and rejoice in having carried her point so far than to repine at the counteraction which followed shortly afterwards Sir Thomas was again interfering a little by advising her to go immediately to bed advice was his word but it was the advice of absolute power and she had only to rise and with Mr. Crawford's very cordial adduce passed quietly away stopping at the entrance door like the lady of Branksham Hall one moment and no more to view the happy scene and take a last look at the five or six determined couple who were still hard at work and then creeping slowly up the principal staircase pursued by the ceaseless country dance feverish with hopes and fears soup and negus sore-footed and fatigued restless and agitated yet feeling in spite of everything that a ball was delightful indeed in thus sending her away Sir Thomas perhaps might not be thinking merely of her health it might occur to him that Mr. Crawford had been sitting by her long enough or he might mean to recommend her as a wife by showing her persuadableness End of Chapter 28