I have quite as great an interest in being careful of his house as you can have; and as to such alterations as I was suggesting just now, such as moving a bookcase, or unlocking a door, or even as using the billiard-room for the space of a week without playing at billiards in it, you might just as well suppose he would object to our sitting more in this room, and less in the breakfast-room, than we did before he went away, or to my sister's pianoforte being moved from one side of the room to the other.

I have quite as great an interest in his house as you; and as to such alterations as moving a bookcase, or unlocking a door, or using the billiard-room for the space of a week, you might as well suppose he would object to my sister's pianoforte being moved from one side of the room to the other.


"The innovation, if not wrong as an innovation, will be wrong as an expense."

"The innovation will be wrong as an expense."


"Yes, the expense of such an undertaking would be prodigious!


Perhaps it might cost a whole twenty pounds.


Something of a theatre we must have undoubtedly, but it will be on the simplest plan: a green curtain and a little carpenter's work, and that's all; and as the carpenter's work may be all done at home by Christopher Jackson himself, it will be too absurd to talk of expense; and as long as Jackson is employed, everything will be right with Sir Thomas.

It will be a green curtain and a little carpenter's work, that's all; and as the carpenter's work may be done by Christopher Jackson, it will be absurd to talk of expense. As long as Jackson is employed, everything will be right with Sir Thomas.


Don't imagine that nobody in this house can see or judge but yourself.


Don't act yourself, if you do not like it, but don't expect to govern everybody else."


"No, as to acting myself," said Edmund, "_that_ I absolutely protest against."

"No, as to acting myself," said Edmund, "that I absolutely protest against."


Tom walked out of the room as he said it, and Edmund was left to sit down and stir the fire in thoughtful vexation.

Tom walked out of the room, and Edmund was left to stir the fire in thoughtful vexation.


Fanny, who had heard it all, and borne Edmund company in every feeling throughout the whole, now ventured to say, in her anxiety to suggest some comfort, "Perhaps they may not be able to find any play to suit them.

Fanny said, anxious to suggest some comfort, "Perhaps they may not find any play to suit them.


Your brother's taste and your sisters' seem very different."


If they persist in the scheme, they will find something.


I shall speak to my sisters and try to dissuade _them_, and that is all I can do."

I shall try to dissuade my sisters, and that is all I can do."


"I should think my aunt Norris would be on your side."


"I dare say she would, but she has no influence with either Tom or my sisters that could be of any use; and if I cannot convince them myself, I shall let things take their course, without attempting it through her.

"I dare say she would, but she has no influence with either Tom or my sisters; and if I cannot convince them myself, I shall let things take their course.


Family squabbling is the greatest evil of all, and we had better do anything than be altogether by the ears."

Family squabbling is the greatest evil of all."


His sisters, to whom he had an opportunity of speaking the next morning, were quite as impatient of his advice, quite as unyielding to his representation, quite as determined in the cause of pleasure, as Tom.

His sisters, to whom he spoke the next morning, were quite as impatient of his advice as Tom.


Their mother had no objection to the plan, and they were not in the least afraid of their father's disapprobation.

Their mother had no objection to the plan, and they were not afraid of their father's disapprobation.


There could be no harm in what had been done in so many respectable families, and by so many women of the first consideration; and it must be scrupulousness run mad that could see anything to censure in a plan like theirs, comprehending only brothers and sisters and intimate friends, and which would never be heard of beyond themselves.

There could be no harm in what had been done in so many respectable families.


Julia _did_ seem inclined to admit that Maria's situation might require particular caution and delicacy-but that could not extend to _her_-she was at liberty; and Maria evidently considered her engagement as only raising her so much more above restraint, and leaving her less occasion than Julia to consult either father or mother.

Julia did admit that Maria's situation might require particular caution-but that could not extend to her-she was at liberty; and Maria evidently considered her engagement as only raising her so much more above restraint.


Edmund had little to hope, but he was still urging the subject when Henry Crawford entered the room, fresh from the Parsonage, calling out, "No want of hands in our theatre, Miss Bertram.

Edmund was still urging them when Henry Crawford entered the room, calling out, "No lack of hands in our theatre, Miss Bertram.


No want of understrappers: my sister desires her love, and hopes to be admitted into the company, and will be happy to take the part of any old duenna or tame confidante, that you may not like to do yourselves."

My sister hopes to be admitted into the company, and will be happy to take the part of any old duenna that you may not like yourselves."


Maria gave Edmund a glance, which meant, "What say you now?


Can we be wrong if Mary Crawford feels the same?"


And Edmund, silenced, was obliged to acknowledge that the charm of acting might well carry fascination to the mind of genius; and with the ingenuity of love, to dwell more on the obliging, accommodating purport of the message than on anything else.

And Edmund, silenced, acknowledged that the charm of acting might well carry fascination to the mind of genius.


Opposition was vain; and as to Mrs. Norris, he was mistaken in supposing she would wish to make any.

As to Mrs. Norris, he was mistaken in supposing she would wish to oppose the scheme.


She started no difficulties that were not talked down in five minutes by her eldest nephew and niece, who were all-powerful with her; and as the whole arrangement was to bring very little expense to anybody, and none at all to herself, as she foresaw in it all the comforts of hurry, bustle, and importance, and derived the immediate advantage of fancying herself obliged to leave her own house, where she had been living a month at her own cost, and take up her abode in theirs, that every hour might be spent in their service, she was, in fact, exceedingly delighted with the project.

She was talked down in five minutes by her eldest nephew and niece, who were all-powerful with her. The arrangement was to bring very little expense to anybody, and none at all to herself. She foresaw in it all the comforts of bustle and importance, and fancied herself obliged to leave her own house, where she had been living at her own cost, and stay in theirs, so that every hour might be spent in their service. She was, in fact, delighted with the project.


A week was gone since Edmund might be supposed in town, and Fanny had heard nothing of him.

A week was gone since Edmund might be supposed to be in London, and Fanny had heard nothing of him.


There were three different conclusions to be drawn from his silence, between which her mind was in fluctuation; each of them at times being held the most probable.


Either his going had been again delayed, or he had yet procured no opportunity of seeing Miss Crawford alone, or he was too happy for letter-writing!

Either his going had been again delayed, or he had as yet found no opportunity of seeing Miss Crawford alone, or he was too happy for letter-writing!


One morning, about this time, Fanny having now been nearly four weeks from Mansfield, a point which she never failed to think over and calculate every day, as she and Susan were preparing to remove, as usual, upstairs, they were stopped by the knock of a visitor, whom they felt they could not avoid, from Rebecca's alertness in going to the door, a duty which always interested her beyond any other.

One morning, Fanny having now been nearly four weeks from Mansfield, a point which she never failed to calculate every day, there was the knock of a visitor.


It was a gentleman's voice; it was a voice that Fanny was just turning pale about, when Mr. Crawford walked into the room.


Good sense, like hers, will always act when really called upon; and she found that she had been able to name him to her mother, and recall her remembrance of the name, as that of "William's friend," though she could not previously have believed herself capable of uttering a syllable at such a moment.

Good sense will always act when really called upon; and she found that she had been able to name him to her mother, as "William's friend," though she could not have believed herself capable of uttering a syllable.


The consciousness of his being known there only as William's friend was some support.


Having introduced him, however, and being all reseated, the terrors that occurred of what this visit might lead to were overpowering, and she fancied herself on the point of fainting away.

Having introduced him, however, her terror of what this visit might lead to became overpowering, and she fancied herself on the point of fainting.


While trying to keep herself alive, their visitor, who had at first approached her with as animated a countenance as ever, was wisely and kindly keeping his eyes away, and giving her time to recover, while he devoted himself entirely to her mother, addressing her, and attending to her with the utmost politeness and propriety, at the same time with a degree of friendliness, of interest at least, which was making his manner perfect.

Their visitor was wisely and kindly keeping his eyes away, giving her time to recover, while he devoted himself entirely to her mother, addressing her with the utmost politeness and propriety.


Mrs. Price's manners were also at their best.


Warmed by the sight of such a friend to her son, and regulated by the wish of appearing to advantage before him, she was overflowing with gratitude-artless, maternal gratitude-which could not be unpleasing.

Warmed by the sight of such a friend to her son, and wishing to appear to advantage, she was overflowing with gratitude.


Mr. Price was out, which she regretted very much.


Fanny was just recovered enough to feel that _she_ could not regret it; for to her many other sources of uneasiness was added the severe one of shame for the home in which he found her.

Fanny did not; for she felt ashamed of her home


She might scold herself for the weakness, but there was no scolding it away.


She was ashamed, and she would have been yet more ashamed of her father than of all the rest.


They talked of William, a subject on which Mrs. Price could never tire; and Mr. Crawford was as warm in his commendation as even her heart could wish.

They talked of William; and Mr. Crawford was as warm in his commendation as even Mrs Price could wish.


She felt that she had never seen so agreeable a man in her life; and was only astonished to find that, so great and so agreeable as he was, he should be come down to Portsmouth neither on a visit to the port-admiral, nor the commissioner, nor yet with the intention of going over to the island, nor of seeing the dockyard.

She felt that she had never seen so agreeable a man; and was only astonished to find that it was no port-admiral,


Nothing of all that she had been used to think of as the proof of importance, or the employment of wealth, had brought him to Portsmouth.

or any object of importance and wealth, that had brought him to Portsmouth.


He had reached it late the night before, was come for a day or two, was staying at the Crown, had accidentally met with a navy officer or two of his acquaintance since his arrival, but had no object of that kind in coming.

He had come for a day or two, was staying at the Crown, had accidentally met with a navy officer or two of his acquaintance, but had no object of that kind in coming.


By the time he had given all this information, it was not unreasonable to suppose that Fanny might be looked at and spoken to; and she was tolerably able to bear his eye, and hear that he had spent half an hour with his sister the evening before his leaving London; that she had sent her best and kindest love, but had had no time for writing; that he thought himself lucky in seeing Mary for even half an hour, having spent scarcely twenty-four hours in London, after his return from Norfolk, before he set off again; that her cousin Edmund was in town, had been in town, he understood, a few days; that he had not seen him himself, but that he was well, had left them all well at Mansfield, and was to dine, as yesterday, with the Frasers.

By the time he had given all this information, Fanny was able to bear his gaze, and hear that he had spent half an hour with his sister the evening before his leaving London; that she had sent her best love, but had had no time for writing; that he thought himself lucky in seeing Mary for even half an hour, having spent scarcely twenty-four hours in London; that her cousin Edmund had been in town, he understood, a few days; that he had not seen him, but that Edmund was well, had left them all well at Mansfield, and was to dine, as yesterday, with Mary and the Frasers.


Fanny listened collectedly, even to the last-mentioned circumstance; nay, it seemed a relief to her worn mind to be at any certainty; and the words, "then by this time it is all settled," passed internally, without more evidence of emotion than a faint blush.

Fanny listened collectedly, even to the last-mentioned circumstance; nay, it seemed a relief; and "then by this time it is all settled," passed internally, without more evidence of emotion than a faint blush.


After talking a little more about Mansfield, a subject in which her interest was most apparent, Crawford began to hint at the expediency of an early walk.

After talking a little more about Mansfield, Crawford began to hint at the convenience of an early walk.


"It was a lovely morning, and at that season of the year a fine morning so often turned off, that it was wisest for everybody not to delay their exercise"; and such hints producing nothing, he soon proceeded to a positive recommendation to Mrs. Price and her daughters to take their walk without loss of time.

"It was a lovely morning, and at that season a fine morning so often changed, that it was wisest for everybody not to delay their exercise". Such hints producing nothing, he proceeded to a positive recommendation to Mrs. Price and her daughters to take their walk.


Mrs. Price, it appeared, scarcely ever stirred out of doors, except of a Sunday; she owned she could seldom, with her large family, find time for a walk.

But Mrs. Price, it appeared, scarcely ever stirred out of doors, except of a Sunday.


"Would she not, then, persuade her daughters to take advantage of such weather, and allow him the pleasure of attending them?"


Mrs. Price was greatly obliged and very complying.


"Her daughters were very much confined; Portsmouth was a sad place; they did not often get out; and she knew they had some errands in the town, which they would be very glad to do."

"She knew they had some errands in the town, which they would be very glad to do."


And the consequence was, that Fanny, strange as it was-strange, awkward, and distressing-found herself and Susan, within ten minutes, walking towards the High Street with Mr. Crawford.

And the consequence was, that Fanny, strange and distressing as it was, found herself and Susan, within ten minutes, walking towards the High Street with Mr. Crawford.


It was soon pain upon pain, confusion upon confusion; for they were hardly in the High Street before they met her father, whose appearance was not the better from its being Saturday.

They were hardly there before they met her father, whose appearance was not the better from its being Saturday.


He stopt; and, ungentlemanlike as he looked, Fanny was obliged to introduce him to Mr. Crawford.

He stopped; and Fanny was obliged to introduce him to Mr. Crawford.


She could not have a doubt of the manner in which Mr. Crawford must be struck.

She could not have a doubt of how Mr. Crawford must be struck.


He must be ashamed and disgusted altogether.


He must soon give her up, and cease to have the smallest inclination for the match; and yet, though she had been so much wanting his affection to be cured, this was a sort of cure that would be almost as bad as the complaint; and I believe there is scarcely a young lady in the United Kingdoms who would not rather put up with the misfortune of being sought by a clever, agreeable man, than have him driven away by the vulgarity of her nearest relations.

He must soon cease to have the smallest inclination for the match; and yet this cure would be almost as bad as the complaint. I believe there is scarcely a young lady living who would not rather put up with the misfortune of being sought by a clever, agreeable man, than have him driven away by the vulgarity of her relations.


Mr. Crawford probably could not regard his future father-in-law with any idea of taking him for a model in dress; but (as Fanny instantly, and to her great relief, discerned) her father was a very different man, a very different Mr. Price in his behaviour to this most highly respected stranger, from what he was in his own family at home.

However, (as Fanny instantly, and to her great relief, discerned) her father was a very different man in his behaviour to this highly respected stranger, from what he was at home.


His manners now, though not polished, were more than passable: they were grateful, animated, manly; his expressions were those of an attached father, and a sensible man; his loud tones did very well in the open air, and there was not a single oath to be heard.

His manners were more than passable: they were grateful, animated, manly; his loud tones did very well in the open air, and there was not a single oath to be heard.


Such was his instinctive compliment to the good manners of Mr. Crawford; and, be the consequence what it might, Fanny's immediate feelings were infinitely soothed.

Such was his instinctive compliment to the good manners of Mr. Crawford; and Fanny's feelings were infinitely soothed.


The conclusion of the two gentlemen's civilities was an offer of Mr. Price's to take Mr. Crawford into the dockyard, which Mr. Crawford, desirous of accepting as a favour what was intended as such, though he had seen the dockyard again and again, and hoping to be so much the longer with Fanny, was very gratefully disposed to avail himself of, if the Miss Prices were not afraid of the fatigue; and as it was somehow or other ascertained, or inferred, or at least acted upon, that they were not at all afraid, to the dockyard they were all to go; and but for Mr. Crawford, Mr. Price would have turned thither directly, without the smallest consideration for his daughters' errands in the High Street.

Mr. Price offered to take Mr. Crawford into the dockyard: Mr. Crawford, though he had seen the dockyard before, was still grateful to accept, hoping to be so much the longer with Fanny. Mr. Price would have turned thither directly, without the smallest consideration for his daughters' errands in the High Street.


He took care, however, that they should be allowed to go to the shops they came out expressly to visit; and it did not delay them long, for Fanny could so little bear to excite impatience, or be waited for, that before the gentlemen, as they stood at the door, could do more than begin upon the last naval regulations, or settle the number of three-deckers now in commission, their companions were ready to proceed.

Mr Crawford took care, however, that they should be allowed to go to the shops they came to visit.


They were then to set forward for the dockyard at once, and the walk would have been conducted-according to Mr. Crawford's opinion-in a singular manner, had Mr. Price been allowed the entire regulation of it, as the two girls, he found, would have been left to follow, and keep up with them or not, as they could, while they walked on together at their own hasty pace.

They then set forward for the dockyard, and the walk would have been conducted in a singular manner, had Mr. Price been allowed the regulation of it, as the two girls would have been left to follow, and keep up with the gentlemen or not, as they could.


He was able to introduce some improvement occasionally, though by no means to the extent he wished; he absolutely would not walk away from them; and at any crossing or any crowd, when Mr. Price was only calling out, "Come, girls; come, Fan; come, Sue, take care of yourselves; keep a sharp lookout!"

Mr Crawford was able to introduce some improvement; he would not walk away from them, and at any crossing, when Mr. Price was calling out, "Come, girls; come, Fan; come, Sue; keep a sharp lookout!"


he would give them his particular attendance.


Once fairly in the dockyard, he began to reckon upon some happy intercourse with Fanny, as they were very soon joined by a brother lounger of Mr. Price's, who was come to take his daily survey of how things went on, and who must prove a far more worthy companion than himself; and after a time the two officers seemed very well satisfied going about together, and discussing matters of equal and never-failing interest, while the young people sat down upon some timbers in the yard, or found a seat on board a vessel in the stocks which they all went to look at.

Once in the dockyard, he hoped for some happy conversation with Fanny, as they were joined by a brother lounger of Mr. Price's, who must prove a more worthy companion than himself; and the two officers seemed very well satisfied going about together, while the young people sat down upon some timbers in the yard.


Fanny was most conveniently in want of rest.


Crawford could not have wished her more fatigued or more ready to sit down; but he could have wished her sister away.

Crawford could not have wished her more ready to sit down; but he could have wished her sister away.


A quick-looking girl of Susan's age was the very worst third in the world: totally different from Lady Bertram, all eyes and ears; and there was no introducing the main point before her.


He must content himself with being only generally agreeable, and letting Susan have her share of entertainment, with the indulgence, now and then, of a look or hint for the better-informed and conscious Fanny.

He must content himself with being generally agreeable, and letting Susan have her share of entertainment, with a hint, now and then, for Fanny.


Norfolk was what he had mostly to talk of: there he had been some time, and everything there was rising in importance from his present schemes.


Such a man could come from no place, no society, without importing something to amuse; his journeys and his acquaintance were all of use, and Susan was entertained in a way quite new to her.

Such a man could come from no place, without importing something to amuse; his journeys and his acquaintances entertained Susan in a way quite new to her.


For Fanny, somewhat more was related than the accidental agreeableness of the parties he had been in.


For her approbation, the particular reason of his going into Norfolk at all, at this unusual time of year, was given.

reason of his going into Norfolk at this unusual time of year.


It had been real business, relative to the renewal of a lease in which the welfare of a large and-he believed-industrious family was at stake.

It related to the renewal of a lease in which the welfare of a large family was at stake.


He had suspected his agent of some underhand dealing; of meaning to bias him against the deserving; and he had determined to go himself, and thoroughly investigate the merits of the case.

He had suspected his agent of some underhand dealing; and he had determined to go himself, and thoroughly investigate the case.


He had gone, had done even more good than he had foreseen, had been useful to more than his first plan had comprehended, and was now able to congratulate himself upon it, and to feel that in performing a duty, he had secured agreeable recollections for his own mind.

He had gone, had done even more good than he had foreseen, and was now able to congratulate himself.


He had introduced himself to some tenants whom he had never seen before; he had begun making acquaintance with cottages whose very existence, though on his own estate, had been hitherto unknown to him.

He had introduced himself to some tenants whom he had never seen before; and he had made acquaintance with cottages whose very existence, though on his own estate, had been unknown to him.


This was aimed, and well aimed, at Fanny.


It was pleasing to hear him speak so properly; here he had been acting as he ought to do.

It was pleasing to hear him speak so properly; here he had been acting as he ought.


To be the friend of the poor and the oppressed!


Nothing could be more grateful to her; and she was on the point of giving him an approving look, when it was all frightened off by his adding a something too pointed of his hoping soon to have an assistant, a friend, a guide in every plan of utility or charity for Everingham: a somebody that would make Everingham and all about it a dearer object than it had ever been yet.

She was on the point of giving him an approving look, when it was frightened off by his adding pointedly that he hoped soon to have a friend and guide in every plan of charity for Everingham.


She turned away, and wished he would not say such things.


She was willing to allow he might have more good qualities than she had been wont to suppose.


She began to feel the possibility of his turning out well at last; but he was and must ever be completely unsuited to her, and ought not to think of her.

She began to feel the possibility of his turning out well at last; but he was and must ever be completely unsuited to her.


He perceived that enough had been said of Everingham, and that it would be as well to talk of something else, and turned to Mansfield.

He perceived that enough had been said of Everingham, and turned to Mansfield.


He could not have chosen better; that was a topic to bring back her attention and her looks almost instantly.

He could not have chosen better; that was a topic to bring back her attention instantly.


It was a real indulgence to her to hear or to speak of Mansfield.


Now so long divided from everybody who knew the place, she felt it quite the voice of a friend when he mentioned it, and led the way to her fond exclamations in praise of its beauties and comforts, and by his honourable tribute to its inhabitants allowed her to gratify her own heart in the warmest eulogium, in speaking of her uncle as all that was clever and good, and her aunt as having the sweetest of all sweet tempers.

She felt it the voice of a friend when he mentioned it, and by his honourable tribute to its inhabitants allowed her to gratify her own heart, in speaking of her uncle as all that was clever and good, and her aunt as having the sweetest of tempers.


He had a great attachment to Mansfield himself; he said so; he looked forward with the hope of spending much, very much, of his time there; always there, or in the neighbourhood.

He had a great attachment to Mansfield himself, he said; he hoped to spend much of his time there, or in the neighbourhood.


He particularly built upon a very happy summer and autumn there this year; he felt that it would be so: he depended upon it; a summer and autumn infinitely superior to the last.

He predicted a very happy summer and autumn there this year; he felt that it would be infinitely superior to the last.


As animated, as diversified, as social, but with circumstances of superiority undescribable.


"Mansfield, Sotherton, Thornton Lacey," he continued; "what a society will be comprised in those houses!


And at Michaelmas, perhaps, a fourth may be added: some small hunting-box in the vicinity of everything so dear; for as to any partnership in Thornton Lacey, as Edmund Bertram once good-humouredly proposed, I hope I foresee two objections: two fair, excellent, irresistible objections to that plan."

And at Michaelmas, perhaps, a fourth may be added: some small hunting-box; for as to any partnership in Thornton Lacey, as Edmund Bertram once good-humouredly proposed, I hope I foresee two objections: two fair, excellent, irresistible objections to that plan."


Fanny was doubly silenced here; though when the moment was passed, could regret that she had not forced herself into the acknowledged comprehension of one half of his meaning, and encouraged him to say something more of his sister and Edmund.

Fanny was doubly silenced here; though she regretted that she had not encouraged him to say more of his sister and Edmund.


It was a subject which she must learn to speak of, and the weakness that shrunk from it would soon be quite unpardonable.

It was a subject which she must learn to speak of.


When Mr. Price and his friend had seen all that they wished, or had time for, the others were ready to return; and in the course of their walk back, Mr. Crawford contrived a minute's privacy for telling Fanny that his only business in Portsmouth was to see her; that he was come down for a couple of days on her account, and hers only, and because he could not endure a longer total separation.

By now, all were ready to return; and during their walk back, Mr. Crawford contrived a minute's privacy for telling Fanny that his only business in Portsmouth was to see her; it was on her account, because he could not endure a longer separation.


She was sorry, really sorry; and yet in spite of this and the two or three other things which she wished he had not said, she thought him altogether improved since she had seen him; he was much more gentle, obliging, and attentive to other people's feelings than he had ever been at Mansfield; she had never seen him so agreeable-so _near_ being agreeable; his behaviour to her father could not offend, and there was something particularly kind and proper in the notice he took of Susan.

She was really sorry; and yet in spite of this, she thought him improved since she had seen him; he was much more gentle, obliging, and attentive to other people's feelings than he had ever been at Mansfield; she had never seen him so near being agreeable.


She wished the next day over, she wished he had come only for one day; but it was not so very bad as she would have expected: the pleasure of talking of Mansfield was so very great!

She wished he had come only for one day; but it was not so very bad: the pleasure of talking of Mansfield was so great!


Before they parted, she had to thank him for another pleasure, and one of no trivial kind.


Her father asked him to do them the honour of taking his mutton with them, and Fanny had time for only one thrill of horror, before he declared himself prevented by a prior engagement.


He was engaged to dinner already both for that day and the next; he had met with some acquaintance at the Crown who would not be denied; he should have the honour, however, of waiting on them again on the morrow, etc., and so they parted-Fanny in a state of actual felicity from escaping so horrible an evil!

He should, however, wait on them again on the morrow, and so they parted-Fanny thankful to escape so horrible an evil!


To have had him join their family dinner-party, and see all their deficiencies, would have been dreadful!


Rebecca's cookery and Rebecca's waiting, and Betsey's eating at table without restraint, and pulling everything about as she chose, were what Fanny herself was not yet enough inured to for her often to make a tolerable meal.

Fanny was not yet inured to Rebecca's cookery and Rebecca's waiting, and Betsey's eating at table without restraint, and pulling everything about as she chose.


_She_ was nice only from natural delicacy, but _he_ had been brought up in a school of luxury and epicurism.


As Fanny could not doubt that her answer was conveying a real disappointment, she was rather in expectation, from her knowledge of Miss Crawford's temper, of being urged again; and though no second letter arrived for the space of a week, she had still the same feeling when it did come.

As Fanny could not doubt that her answer would give Miss Crawford real disappointment, she rather expected to be urged again; and though no second letter arrived for a week, she had still the same feeling when it did come.


On receiving it, she could instantly decide on its containing little writing, and was persuaded of its having the air of a letter of haste and business.

On receiving it, she was instantly persuaded of its having the air of a brief letter of haste and business.


Its object was unquestionable; and two moments were enough to start the probability of its being merely to give her notice that they should be in Portsmouth that very day, and to throw her into all the agitation of doubting what she ought to do in such a case.

In all probability it would be merely to give her notice that they should be in Portsmouth that very day, and to throw her into all the agitation of doubting what she ought to do.


If two moments, however, can surround with difficulties, a third can disperse them; and before she had opened the letter, the possibility of Mr. and Miss Crawford's having applied to her uncle and obtained his permission was giving her ease.


"A most scandalous, ill-natured rumour has just reached me, and I write, dear Fanny, to warn you against giving the least credit to it, should it spread into the country.

"A most scandalous, ill-natured rumour has just reached me, and I write, dear Fanny, to warn you against giving the least credit to it.


Depend upon it, there is some mistake, and that a day or two will clear it up; at any rate, that Henry is blameless, and in spite of a moment's _etourderie_, thinks of nobody but you.

Depend upon it, there is some mistake, and a day or two will clear it up; Henry is blameless, and in spite of a moment's rashness, thinks of nobody but you.


Say not a word of it; hear nothing, surmise nothing, whisper nothing till I write again.


I am sure it will be all hushed up, and nothing proved but Rushworth's folly.


If they are gone, I would lay my life they are only gone to Mansfield Park, and Julia with them.


But why would not you let us come for you?


I wish you may not repent it.-Yours, etc."


As no scandalous, ill-natured rumour had reached her, it was impossible for her to understand much of this strange letter.


She could only perceive that it must relate to Wimpole Street and Mr. Crawford, and only conjecture that something very imprudent had just occurred in that quarter to draw the notice of the world, and to excite her jealousy, in Miss Crawford's apprehension, if she heard it.

She could only perceive that it must relate to Wimpole Street and Mr. Crawford, and only conjecture that something very imprudent had just occurred in that quarter to draw the notice of the world, and to excite her jealousy, in Miss Crawford's apprehension.


Miss Crawford need not be alarmed for her.


She was only sorry for the parties concerned and for Mansfield, if the report should spread so far; but she hoped it might not.

She was only sorry for the parties concerned and for Mansfield, if the report should spread that far; but she hoped it might not.


If the Rushworths were gone themselves to Mansfield, as was to be inferred from what Miss Crawford said, it was not likely that anything unpleasant should have preceded them, or at least should make any impression.

If the Rushworths were gone to Mansfield, as she gathered from Miss Crawford's words, it was not likely that anything unpleasant should have preceded them.


As to Mr. Crawford, she hoped it might give him a knowledge of his own disposition, convince him that he was not capable of being steadily attached to any one woman in the world, and shame him from persisting any longer in addressing herself.


She had begun to think he really loved her, and to fancy his affection for her something more than common; and his sister still said that he cared for nobody else.


Yet there must have been some marked display of attentions to her cousin, there must have been some strong indiscretion, since her correspondent was not of a sort to regard a slight one.

Yet there must have been some marked display of attentions to her cousin, some strong indiscretion, since her correspondent was not of a sort to regard a slight one.


Very uncomfortable she was, and must continue, till she heard from Miss Crawford again.


It was impossible to banish the letter from her thoughts, and she could not relieve herself by speaking of it to any human being.

It was impossible to banish the letter from her thoughts, and she could not speak of it to anyone.


Miss Crawford need not have urged secrecy with so much warmth; she might have trusted to her sense of what was due to her cousin.


The next day came and brought no second letter.


She could still think of little else all the morning; but, when her father came back in the afternoon with the daily newspaper as usual, she was so far from expecting any elucidation through such a channel that the subject was for a moment out of her head.

She could still think of little else all morning; but, when her father came back in the afternoon with the newspaper as usual, she was


The remembrance of her first evening in that room, of her father and his newspaper, came across her.


The sun was yet an hour and half above the horizon.


She felt that she had, indeed, been three months there; and the sun's rays falling strongly into the parlour, instead of cheering, made her still more melancholy, for sunshine appeared to her a totally different thing in a town and in the country.

She felt that she had, indeed, been three months there; and the sun's rays falling strongly into the parlour made her still more melancholy, for sunshine appeared to her a totally different thing in a town from in the country.


Here, its power was only a glare: a stifling, sickly glare, serving but to bring forward stains and dirt that might otherwise have slept.


There was neither health nor gaiety in sunshine in a town.


She sat in a blaze of oppressive heat, in a cloud of moving dust, and her eyes could only wander from the walls, marked by her father's head, to the table cut and notched by her brothers, where stood the tea-board never thoroughly cleaned, the cups and saucers wiped in streaks, the milk a mixture of motes floating in thin blue, and the bread and butter growing every minute more greasy than even Rebecca's hands had first produced it.

She sat in a blaze of oppressive heat, in a cloud of moving dust, and her eyes could only wander from the table cut and notched by her brothers, to the cups and saucers wiped in streaks, the milk a mixture of motes floating in thin blue, and the bread and butter growing every minute more greasy than even Rebecca's hands had first produced it.


Her father read his newspaper, and her mother lamented over the ragged carpet as usual, while the tea was in preparation, and wished Rebecca would mend it; and Fanny was first roused by his calling out to her, after humphing and considering over a particular paragraph: "What's the name of your great cousins in town, Fan?"

Her father read his newspaper, and Fanny was first roused by his calling out to her: "What's the name of your great cousins in town, Fan?"


A moment's recollection enabled her to say, "Rushworth, sir."


"And don't they live in Wimpole Street?"


"Then, there's the devil to pay among them, that's all!


There" (holding out the paper to her); "much good may such fine relations do you.


I don't know what Sir Thomas may think of such matters; he may be too much of the courtier and fine gentleman to like his daughter the less.


if she belonged to _me_, I'd give her the rope's end as long as I could stand over her.

if she belonged to me, I'd give her the rope's end.


A little flogging for man and woman too would be the best way of preventing such things."


Fanny read to herself that "it was with infinite concern the newspaper had to announce to the world a matrimonial _fracas_ in the family of Mr. R. of Wimpole Street; the beautiful Mrs. R., whose name had not long been enrolled in the lists of Hymen, and who had promised to become so brilliant a leader in the fashionable world, having quitted her husband's roof in company with the well-known and captivating Mr. C., the intimate friend and associate of Mr. R., and it was not known even to the editor of the newspaper whither they were gone."

Fanny read to herself that "it was with infinite concern the newspaper had to announce a matrimonial fracas in the family of Mr. R. of Wimpole Street; the beautiful Mrs. R., not long married, who had promised to become so brilliant a leader in the fashionable world, having quitted her husband's roof in company with the well-known and captivating Mr. C., the intimate friend of Mr. R., and it was not known even to the editor of the newspaper whither they were gone."


"It is a mistake, sir," said Fanny instantly; "it must be a mistake, it cannot be true; it must mean some other people."

"It is a mistake, sir," said Fanny instantly; "it cannot be true; it must mean some other people."


She spoke from the instinctive wish of delaying shame; she spoke with a resolution which sprung from despair, for she spoke what she did not, could not believe herself.

She spoke from the instinctive wish of delaying shame; she spoke with a resolution which sprung from despair, for she spoke what she could not believe herself.


It had been the shock of conviction as she read.


The truth rushed on her; and how she could have spoken at all, how she could even have breathed, was afterwards matter of wonder to herself.

The truth rushed on her; and how she could have spoken at all was afterwards a matter of wonder.


Mr. Price cared too little about the report to make her much answer.

Mr. Price cared too little to make much answer.


"It might be all a lie," he acknowledged; "but so many fine ladies were going to the devil nowadays that way, that there was no answering for anybody."

"It might be all a lie, but so many fine ladies were going to the devil nowadays, that there was no answering for anybody."


"Indeed, I hope it is not true," said Mrs. Price plaintively; "it would be so very shocking!


If I have spoken once to Rebecca about that carpet, I am sure I have spoke at least a dozen times; have not I, Betsey?


The horror of a mind like Fanny's, as it received the conviction of such guilt, and began to take in some part of the misery that must ensue, can hardly be described.

The horror of Fanny's mind, as it received the conviction of such guilt, and began to take in the misery that must follow, can hardly be described.


At first, it was a sort of stupefaction; but every moment was quickening her perception of the horrible evil.


She could not doubt, she dared not indulge a hope, of the paragraph being false.

She dared not hope of the paragraph being false.


Miss Crawford's letter, which she had read so often as to make every line her own, was in frightful conformity with it.

Miss Crawford's letter was in frightful agreement with it.


Her eager defence of her brother, her hope of its being _hushed_ _up_, her evident agitation, were all of a piece with something very bad; and if there was a woman of character in existence, who could treat as a trifle this sin of the first magnitude, who would try to gloss it over, and desire to have it unpunished, she could believe Miss Crawford to be the woman!

Her eager defence of her brother, her hope of its being hushed up, her evident agitation, were all of a piece with something very bad; and if there was a woman of character in existence, who could treat as a trifle this sin of the first magnitude, who would try to gloss it over, she could believe Miss Crawford to be the woman!


Now she could see her own mistake as to _who_ were gone, or _said_ to be gone.

Now she could see her own mistake as to who were gone.


It was not Mr. and Mrs. Rushworth; it was Mrs. Rushworth and Mr. Crawford.


Fanny seemed to herself never to have been shocked before.

Fanny felt herself never to have been shocked before.


The evening passed without a pause of misery, the night was totally sleepless.


She passed only from feelings of sickness to shudderings of horror; and from hot fits of fever to cold.

She passed only from feelings of sickness to shudderings of horror.


The event was so shocking, that there were moments even when her heart revolted from it as impossible: when she thought it could not be.

The event was so shocking, that there were moments even when her heart revolted from it as impossible: it could not be.


A woman married only six months ago; a man professing himself devoted, even _engaged_ to another; that other her near relation; the whole family, both families connected as they were by tie upon tie; all friends, all intimate together!

A woman married only six months ago; a man professing himself devoted to another; both families connected as they were by tie upon tie; all friends, all intimate together!


It was too horrible a confusion of guilt, too gross a complication of evil, for human nature, not in a state of utter barbarism, to be capable of!

It was too horrible a confusion of guilt, too gross a complication of evil, for civilized human nature to be capable of!


_His_ unsettled affections, wavering with his vanity, _Maria's_ decided attachment, and no sufficient principle on either side, gave it possibility: Miss Crawford's letter stampt it a fact.

His unsettled affections, Maria's decided attachment, and no sufficient principle on either side, gave it possibility: Miss Crawford's letter stamped it a fact.


Whose peace would it not cut up for ever?


Miss Crawford, herself, Edmund; but it was dangerous, perhaps, to tread such ground.


She confined herself, or tried to confine herself, to the simple, indubitable family misery which must envelop all, if it were indeed a matter of certified guilt and public exposure.

She tried to confine herself to the indubitable family misery which must envelop all.


The mother's sufferings, the father's; there she paused.


Julia's, Tom's, Edmund's; there a yet longer pause.


They were the two on whom it would fall most horribly.


Sir Thomas's parental solicitude and high sense of honour and decorum, Edmund's upright principles, unsuspicious temper, and genuine strength of feeling, made her think it scarcely possible for them to support life and reason under such disgrace; and it appeared to her that, as far as this world alone was concerned, the greatest blessing to every one of kindred with Mrs. Rushworth would be instant annihilation.

Sir Thomas's high sense of honour and decorum, Edmund's upright principles, unsuspicious temper, and genuine strength of feeling, made her think it scarcely possible for them to support life and reason under such disgrace. She felt as if the greatest blessing for everyone related to Mrs. Rushworth would be instant annihilation.


Nothing happened the next day, or the next, to weaken her terrors.


Two posts came in, and brought no refutation, public or private.

Two posts came in, and brought no denial,


There was no second letter to explain away the first from Miss Crawford; there was no intelligence from Mansfield, though it was now full time for her to hear again from her aunt.

no second letter from Miss Crawford to explain away the first; there was no news from Mansfield, though it was now full time for her to hear again from her aunt.


She had, indeed, scarcely the shadow of a hope to soothe her mind, and was reduced to so low and wan and trembling a condition, as no mother, not unkind, except Mrs. Price could have overlooked, when the third day did bring the sickening knock, and a letter was again put into her hands.

She had, indeed, scarcely the shadow of a hope to soothe her mind, and was reduced to so low and trembling a condition, as no mother except Mrs. Price could have overlooked, when the third day did bring the sickening knock, and a letter was put into her hands.


It bore the London postmark, and came from Edmund.


"Dear Fanny,-You know our present wretchedness.


We have been here two days, but there is nothing to be done.

We have been in London two days, but there is nothing to be done.


You may not have heard of the last blow-Julia's elopement; she is gone to Scotland with Yates.


She left London a few hours before we entered it.


At any other time this would have been felt dreadfully.


Now it seems nothing; yet it is an heavy aggravation.


He is still able to think and act; and I write, by his desire, to propose your returning home.


He is anxious to get you there for my mother's sake.


I shall be at Portsmouth the morning after you receive this, and hope to find you ready to set off for Mansfield.


My father wishes you to invite Susan to go with you for a few months.


Settle it as you like; say what is proper; I am sure you will feel such an instance of his kindness at such a moment!

Settle it as you like; I am sure you will feel his kindness at such a moment!


Do justice to his meaning, however I may confuse it.


You may imagine something of my present state.


There is no end of the evil let loose upon us.


You will see me early by the mail.-Yours, etc."


Never had she felt such a one as this letter contained.


She was, she felt she was, in the greatest danger of being exquisitely happy, while so many were miserable.

She felt she was in the greatest danger of being exquisitely happy, while so many were miserable.


The evil which brought such good to her!


She dreaded lest she should learn to be insensible of it.

She dreaded lest she should learn to be careless of it.


To be going so soon, sent for so kindly, sent for as a comfort, and with leave to take Susan, was altogether such a combination of blessings as set her heart in a glow, and for a time seemed to distance every pain, and make her incapable of suitably sharing the distress even of those whose distress she thought of most.

To be going so soon, sent for so kindly, and with permission to take Susan, was altogether such a combination of blessings as set her heart in a glow, and for a time seemed to distance every pain, and make her incapable of sharing the distress even of those she thought of most.


Julia's elopement could affect her comparatively but little; she was amazed and shocked; but it could not occupy her, could not dwell on her mind.

Julia's elopement could affect her but little; she was amazed and shocked; but it could not dwell on her mind.


She was obliged to call herself to think of it, and acknowledge it to be terrible and grievous, or it was escaping her, in the midst of all the agitating pressing joyful cares attending this summons to herself.

She acknowledged it to be grievous, but it almost escaped her, in the midst of all the joyful cares attending this summons.


There is nothing like employment, active indispensable employment, for relieving sorrow.

There is nothing like employment for relieving sorrow.


Employment, even melancholy, may dispel melancholy, and her occupations were hopeful.


She had so much to do, that not even the horrible story of Mrs. Rushworth (now fixed to the last point of certainty), could affect her as it had done before.


Within twenty-four hours she was hoping to be gone; her father and mother must be spoken to, Susan prepared, everything got ready.

Her father and mother must be spoken to, Susan prepared, everything got ready.


Business followed business; the day was hardly long enough.


The happiness she was imparting, too, happiness very little alloyed by the black communication which must briefly precede it-the joyful consent of her father and mother to Susan's going with her-the general satisfaction with which the going of both seemed regarded, and the ecstasy of Susan herself, was all serving to support her spirits.

The happiness she was imparting, too,-the joyful consent of her father and mother to Susan's going with her, and the ecstasy of Susan herself, were all serving to support her spirits.


The affliction of the Bertrams was little felt in the family.


Mrs. Price talked of her poor sister for a few minutes, but how to find anything to hold Susan's clothes, because Rebecca took away all the boxes and spoilt them, was much more in her thoughts: and as for Susan, now unexpectedly gratified in the first wish of her heart, and knowing nothing personally of those who had sinned, or of those who were sorrowing-if she could help rejoicing from beginning to end, it was as much as ought to be expected from human virtue at fourteen.

Mrs. Price talked of her poor sister for a few minutes, but how to find anything to hold Susan's clothes was much more in her thoughts: and as for Susan, now unexpectedly gratified in the first wish of her heart, and knowing nothing personally of those who had sinned, or who were sorrowing-if she could help rejoicing from beginning to end, it was as much as ought to be expected from human virtue at fourteen.


As nothing was really left for the decision of Mrs. Price, or the good offices of Rebecca, everything was rationally and duly accomplished, and the girls were ready for the morrow.

Everything was duly accomplished, and the girls were ready for the morrow.


The advantage of much sleep to prepare them for their journey was impossible.


The cousin who was travelling towards them could hardly have less than visited their agitated spirits-one all happiness, the other all varying and indescribable perturbation.

They slept little: one was all happiness, the other all indescribable perturbation.


By eight in the morning Edmund was in the house.


The girls heard his entrance from above, and Fanny went down.


The idea of immediately seeing him, with the knowledge of what he must be suffering, brought back all her own first feelings.

The idea of seeing him, with the knowledge of what he must be suffering, brought back all her own first feelings.


She was ready to sink as she entered the parlour.


He was alone, and met her instantly; and she found herself pressed to his heart with only these words, just articulate, "My Fanny, my only sister; my only comfort now!"

He was alone; and she found herself pressed to his heart with these words, just articulate, "My Fanny, my only sister; my only comfort now!"


She could say nothing; nor for some minutes could he say more.


He turned away to recover himself, and when he spoke again, though his voice still faltered, his manner shewed the wish of self-command, and the resolution of avoiding any farther allusion.

He turned away to recover himself, and when he spoke again, though his voice still faltered, his manner showed the wish of self-command.


were questions following each other rapidly.


His great object was to be off as soon as possible.


When Mansfield was considered, time was precious; and the state of his own mind made him find relief only in motion.

Time was precious; and the state of his mind made him find relief only in motion.


It was settled that he should order the carriage to the door in half an hour.


Fanny answered for their having breakfasted and being quite ready in half an hour.

Fanny answered for their having breakfasted and being quite ready.


He had already ate, and declined staying for their meal.


He would walk round the ramparts, and join them with the carriage.


He was gone again; glad to get away even from Fanny.


He looked very ill; evidently suffering under violent emotions, which he was determined to suppress.


She knew it must be so, but it was terrible to her.


The carriage came; and he entered the house again at the same moment, just in time to spend a few minutes with the family, and be a witness-but that he saw nothing-of the tranquil manner in which the daughters were parted with, and just in time to prevent their sitting down to the breakfast-table, which, by dint of much unusual activity, was quite and completely ready as the carriage drove from the door.

The carriage came; and he entered the house again, just in time to spend a few minutes with the family, and be a witness-except that he saw nothing-of the tranquil manner in which the daughters were parted with, and just in time to prevent their sitting down to the breakfast-table, which by dint of unusual activity was completely ready as the carriage drove from the door.


Fanny's last meal in her father's house was in character with her first: she was dismissed from it as hospitably as she had been welcomed.


How her heart swelled with joy and gratitude as she passed the barriers of Portsmouth, and how Susan's face wore its broadest smiles, may be easily conceived.

How her heart swelled with joy and gratitude as she left Portsmouth, and how Susan's face wore its broadest smiles, may be easily conceived.


Sitting forwards, however, and screened by her bonnet, those smiles were unseen.


The journey was likely to be a silent one.


Edmund's deep sighs often reached Fanny.


Had he been alone with her, his heart must have opened in spite of every resolution; but Susan's presence drove him quite into himself, and his attempts to talk on indifferent subjects could never be long supported.

Had he been alone with her, his heart must have opened; but Susan's presence drove him quite into himself, and his attempts to talk on indifferent subjects could never be long supported.


Fanny watched him with never-failing solicitude, and sometimes catching his eye, revived an affectionate smile, which comforted her; but the first day's journey passed without her hearing a word from him on the subjects that were weighing him down.


The next morning produced a little more.


Just before their setting out from Oxford, while Susan was stationed at a window, in eager observation of the departure of a large family from the inn, the other two were standing by the fire; and Edmund, particularly struck by the alteration in Fanny's looks, and from his ignorance of the daily evils of her father's house, attributing an undue share of the change, attributing _all_ to the recent event, took her hand, and said in a low, but very expressive tone, "No wonder-you must feel it-you must suffer.

Just before their setting out from Oxford, while Susan was eagerly looking from a window, the other two were standing by the fire; and Edmund, struck by the alteration in Fanny's looks, and ignorant of the daily evils of her father's house, attributed the change in her to the recent event. He took her hand, and said in a low expressive tone, "No wonder-you must suffer.


How a man who had once loved, could desert you!


But _yours_-your regard was new compared with--Fanny, think of _me_!"

But your regard was new compared with--Fanny, think of me!"


The first division of their journey occupied a long day, and brought them, almost knocked up, to Oxford; but the second was over at a much earlier hour.

The second part of their journey was soon over.


They were in the environs of Mansfield long before the usual dinner-time, and as they approached the beloved place, the hearts of both sisters sank a little.

They were close to Mansfield long before the usual dinner-time, and as they approached, the hearts of both sisters sank a little.


Fanny began to dread the meeting with her aunts and Tom, under so dreadful a humiliation; and Susan to feel with some anxiety, that all her best manners, all her lately acquired knowledge of what was practised here, was on the point of being called into action.

Fanny began to dread the meeting with her aunts and Tom; and Susan to feel with some anxiety, that all her best manners were on the point of being called into action.


Visions of good and ill breeding, of old vulgarisms and new gentilities, were before her; and she was meditating much upon silver forks, napkins, and finger-glasses.

Visions of good and ill breeding were before her; and she was meditating much upon silver forks, napkins, and finger-glasses.


Fanny had been everywhere awake to the difference of the country since February; but when they entered the Park her perceptions and her pleasures were of the keenest sort.


It was three months, full three months, since her quitting it, and the change was from winter to summer.

It was full three months since Fanny's quitting Mansfield, and winter had changed to summer.


Her eye fell everywhere on lawns and plantations of the freshest green; and the trees, though not fully clothed, were in that delightful state when farther beauty is known to be at hand, and when, while much is actually given to the sight, more yet remains for the imagination.

Her eye fell everywhere on lawns and plantations of the freshest green; and the trees were in that delightful state when farther beauty is known to be at hand.


Her enjoyment, however, was for herself alone.


She looked at him, but he was leaning back, sunk in a deeper gloom than ever, and with eyes closed, as if the view of cheerfulness oppressed him, and the lovely scenes of home must be shut out.

She looked at him, but he was leaning back, sunk in a deeper gloom than ever, and with eyes closed, as if the lovely scenes of home must be shut out.


It made her melancholy again; and the knowledge of what must be enduring there, invested even the house, modern, airy, and well situated as it was, with a melancholy aspect.

It made her melancholy again; and the knowledge of what the family must be enduring there, invested even the house with a melancholy aspect.


By one of the suffering party within they were expected with such impatience as she had never known before.

By one of the suffering party within, they were expected with such impatience as she had never known before.


Fanny had scarcely passed the solemn-looking servants, when Lady Bertram came from the drawing-room to meet her; came with no indolent step; and falling on her neck, said, "Dear Fanny!

Fanny had scarcely passed the solemn-looking servants, when Lady Bertram came from the drawing-room to meet her; came almost hastily; and falling on her neck, said, "Dear Fanny!


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 intimacy between the two families was now nearly restored to its former state.


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.

found the Grants and their young inmates really worth visiting; and though above scheming for any marriage, he could not avoid perceiving, in a grand and careless way, that Mr. Crawford was distinguishing his niece, and he assented more willingly 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 worth while, "because Sir Thomas seemed so ill inclined, and Lady Bertram was so indolent!"

His readiness, however, in agreeing to dine at the Parsonage, when the general invitation was at last sent out,


proceeded from good-breeding and goodwill 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 any one in the habit of such idle observations _would_ _have_ _thought_ that Mr. Crawford was the admirer of Fanny Price.

proceeded from goodwill alone, and had nothing to do with Mr. Crawford: for it was during that visit that he first began to think 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.

The meeting was a pleasant one, and the dinner was elegant and plentiful, according to the usual style of the Grants, and enjoyed by everyone except Mrs. Norris, who could never behold either the wide table or the number of dishes on it with patience.


In the evening it was found, according to the predetermination of Mrs. Grant and her sister, that after making up the whist-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 whist; 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 whist or not.

In the evening it was found that after making up the whist-table there would remain sufficient people for a round game. Speculation was decided on; and Lady Bertram soon found herself being asked to choose between the games.


Whist and speculation; which will amuse me most?"


Sir Thomas, after a moment's thought, recommended speculation.


He was a whist 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's stepping forward with a 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 Dr. 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.

Here Fanny interposed anxiously; she had never played the game; but upon everybody's assuring her that it was the easiest game on the cards, and Henry Crawford's stepping forward with an earnest request to sit between her ladyship and Miss Price, and teach them both, it was settled. Sir Thomas, Mrs. Norris, and Dr. and Mrs. Grant being seated at the table of prime intellectual state, 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 inspirit 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, must direct her in whatever was to be done with them to the end of it.

It was a fine arrangement for Henry Crawford, who was close to Fanny, and with two persons' cards to manage as well as his own; for though it was impossible for Fanny not to master the rules in three minutes, he had yet to sharpen her avarice and harden her heart, which, especially in any competition with William, was a work of some difficulty. As for Lady Bertram, he was in charge of her fortune through the whole evening.


He was in high spirits, doing everything with happy ease, and preeminent in all the lively turns, quick resources, and playful impudence that could do honour to the game; and the round table was altogether a very comfortable contrast to the steady sobriety and orderly silence of the other.

He was in high spirits, doing everything with happy ease and playful impudence; and the round table was altogether a very comfortable contrast to the 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.

Sir Thomas inquired into the enjoyment of his lady.


"I hope your ladyship is pleased with the game."


I am never to see my cards; and Mr. Crawford does all the rest."


"Bertram," said Crawford, some time afterwards, taking the opportunity of a little languor in the game, "I have never told you what happened to me yesterday in my ride home."

"Bertram," said Crawford, some time afterwards, "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.

They had been hunting together, and were at some distance from Mansfield, when his horse flung a shoe, and Henry Crawford had been obliged to give up and make 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 lost my way after passing that old farmhouse with the yew-trees, because I can never bear to ask; and I found myself in the very place which I was curious 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 forded, 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 was suddenly in a retired little village between gently rising hills; a small stream before me, a church standing to my right-which church was strikingly large and handsome for the place, where there was no gentleman's house to be seen excepting one-to be presumed the Parsonage-within a stone's throw of the church.


I found myself, in short, in Thornton Lacey."


"It sounds like it," said Edmund; "but which way did you turn after passing Sewell's farm?"


"I answer 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 Lacey-for such it certainly was."


But I _told_ a man mending a hedge that it was Thornton Lacey, and he agreed to it."

But I told a man mending a hedge that it was Thornton Lacey, and he agreed."


I had forgotten having ever told you half so much of the place."


Thornton Lacey was the name of his impending living, as Miss Crawford well knew; and her interest in a negotiation for William Price's knave increased.


"Well," continued Edmund, "and how did you like what you saw?"


There will be work for five summers at least before the place is liveable."


The farmyard 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 farmyard must be cleared away entirely, and planted up to shut out the blacksmith's shop.

"The farmyard must be cleared away entirely, and planted up.


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.

The house must be turned to face the east, 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.

And your approach must be 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 south-east.

You must make a new garden at the back of the house; which will give it the best aspect, sloping to the south-east.


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.


The meadows beyond what _will_ _be_ the garden, as well as what now _is_, sweeping round from the lane I stood in to the north-east, 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.

The meadows 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.


"And I have two or three ideas also," said Edmund, "and one of them is, that very little of your plan for Thornton Lacey 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."

I think the house 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 tone 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 knave at an exorbitant rate, exclaimed, "There, I will stake my last like a woman of spirit.

Miss Crawford, a little suspicious and resentful of a certain half-look attending this last expression, made a hasty finish of her dealings with William Price, and exclaimed, "There, I will stake my last like a woman of spirit.


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.

The game was hers, and only did not repay her what she had paid for it.


Another deal proceeded, and Crawford began again about Thornton Lacey.


"My plan may not be the best possible: I had not many minutes to form it in; but you must do a good deal.

"My plan may not be the best possible: 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.


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.

That will be done by the removal of the farmyard; for the house has the look of a something above a mere parsonage.


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."

It is a solid, roomy, mansion-like house, such as one might suppose a respectable old country family had lived in through two centuries at least."


Miss Crawford listened, and Edmund agreed to this.

Miss Crawford listened, and Edmund agreed.


"The air of a gentleman's residence, therefore, you cannot but give it, if you do anything.

"The air of a gentleman's residence, therefore, you cannot help giving it.


(Let me see, Mary; Lady Bertram bids a dozen for that queen; no, no, a dozen is more than it is worth.

(Lady Bertram bids a dozen for that queen; no, no, a dozen is more than it is worth.


By some such improvements as I have suggested (I do not really require you to proceed upon my plan, though, by the bye, I doubt anybody's striking out a better) you may give it a higher character.

By some improvements you may give it a higher character.


From being the mere gentleman's residence, it becomes, by judicious improvement, the residence of a man of education, taste, modern manners, good connexions.

It may become the residence of a man of education, taste, and good connexions.


All this may be stamped on it; and that house receive 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.

All this may be stamped on it; and that house receive such an air as to make its owner be set down as the great landholder of the parish; especially as there is no real squire's house to dispute the point.


_You_ think with me, I hope" (turning with a softened voice to Fanny).

You think with me, I hope," (turning with a softened voice to Fanny).


Fanny gave a quick negative, and tried to hide her interest in the subject by an eager attention to her brother, who was driving as hard a bargain, and imposing on her as much as he could; but Crawford pursued with "No, no, you must not part with the queen.

Fanny gave a quick negative, and tried to hide her interest by attending to her brother, who was driving a hard bargain; 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.

Your brother does not offer half her value.


Your sister does not part with the queen.


The game will be yours," turning to her again; "it will certainly be yours."


"And Fanny had much rather it were William's," said Edmund, smiling at her.

"And Fanny had much rather it were William's," said Edmund, smiling.


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 Lacey without accepting his help.

"Mr. Bertram," said Miss Crawford, "you know Henry to be such a capital improver, that you cannot do anything at Thornton Lacey without his help.


Only think how useful he was at Sotherton!


Only think what grand things were produced there by our all going with him one hot day in August to drive about the grounds, and see his genius take fire.

Only think what grand things were produced there that one hot day in August.


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 Sotherton; but it was a hot day, and we were all walking after each other, and bewildered."

With some consciousness he shook his head at his sister, and laughingly replied, "I cannot say there was much done at Sotherton; 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 of by the day at Sotherton.

He added, in a low voice, directed solely at Fanny, "I should be sorry to have my powers of planning judged of by the day at Sotherton.


Sotherton 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 Dr. and Mrs. Grant's great hands, she called out, in high good-humour, "Sotherton!

Sotherton was a word to catch Mrs. Norris, and she called out, in high good-humour, "Sotherton!


Yes, that is a place, indeed, and we had a charming day there.


William, you are quite out of luck; but the next time you come, I hope dear Mr. and Mrs. Rushworth will be at home, and I am sure I can answer for your being kindly received by both.

William, the next time you come, I hope dear Mr. and Mrs. Rushworth will be at home, and 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.

They are at Brighton now, you know; in one of the best houses there.


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 do not exactly know the distance, but when you get back to Portsmouth, 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 to your cousins."


"I should be very happy, aunt; but Brighton is almost by Beachey 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 on, when she was stopped by Sir Thomas's saying with authority, "I do not advise your 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 connexions of our family as his own."

Mrs. Norris's eager assurance to the contrary was stopped by Sir Thomas's saying with authority, "I do not advise your going to Brighton, William, as I trust you may have more convenient opportunities of meeting. My daughters would be happy to see their cousins anywhere; and you will find Mr. Rushworth well disposed towards you."


"I would rather find him private secretary to the First Lord than anything else," was William's only answer, in an undervoice, not meant to reach far, and the subject dropped.

"I would rather find him private secretary to the First Lord than anything else," was William's only answer, in an undervoice, 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 niece the object of attentions, or rather of professions, of a somewhat pointed character.

As yet Sir Thomas had seen nothing to remark in Mr. Crawford's behaviour; but when the whist-table broke up, he became a looker-on at the other, and found his niece the object of pointed attentions.


Henry Crawford was in the first glow of another scheme about Thornton Lacey; and not being able to catch Edmund's ear, was detailing it to his fair neighbour with a look of considerable earnestness.

Henry Crawford was in the glow of another scheme about Thornton Lacey; and was detailing it to Fanny with a look of 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 homestall 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.

His scheme was to rent the house himself the following winter, that he might have a home of his own in that neighbourhood; not merely for the use of it in the hunting-season, (as he said), for 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 place that he could come to at any time, a home where his holidays might be spent, so that he might continue that friendship with the Mansfield Park family which was increasing in value to him every day.


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.

There was no want of respect in the young man's address; and Fanny's reception of it was 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.

Finding by whom he was observed, Henry Crawford addressed himself on the subject to Sir Thomas.


"I want to be your neighbour, 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 Lacey.

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 Lacey.


Edmund, on this appeal, had first to hear what was going on; but, on understanding the question, was at no loss for an answer.


"Certainly, sir, I have no idea but of residence.

"Certainly, sir, I have no idea but of residence," answered Edmund.


"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 of your improved plan that may occur to you this spring."

Consider the house as half yours every winter, and we will add to the stables on your own improved plan."


"We shall be the losers," continued Sir Thomas.


"His going, 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.

"Edmund's going, though only eight miles, will be an unwelcome contraction of our family circle; but I should have been deeply mortified if my son 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 to the same extent.

A parish has claims which can be known only by a clergyman constantly resident.


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.

Edmund might read prayers and preach, without giving up Mansfield Park: he might ride over every Sunday 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.


He knows that human nature needs more lessons than a weekly sermon can convey; and 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."

He knows that if he does not live among his parishioners, and prove himself their well-wisher and friend, he does very little either for their good or his own.


"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."

Thornton Lacey, therefore, is the only house in the neighbourhood which I should not be happy for Mr. Crawford to occupy."


"Sir Thomas," said Edmund, "undoubtedly understands the duty of a parish priest.


We must hope 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.

Whatever effect Sir Thomas's little harangue might really produce on Mr. Crawford, it raised some awkward sensations in two of his most attentive listeners.


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 fancies she had been previously indulging on the strength of her brother's description, no longer able, in the picture she had been forming of a future Thornton, to shut out the church, sink the clergyman, and see only the respectable, elegant, modernised, and occasional residence 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.

Fanny, having not understood that Thornton was so soon to be his home, was pondering with downcast eyes on what it would be not to see Edmund every day; and Miss Crawford, startled from the agreeable fancies she had been indulging on the strength of her brother's description, was no longer able, in her picture of a future Thornton, to shut out the church, sink the clergyman, and see only the elegant, modernised residence of a man of independent fortune. She considered Sir Thomas as the destroyer of all this.


All the agreeable of _her_ speculation was over for that hour.


It was time to have done with cards, if sermons prevailed; and she was glad to find it necessary to come to a conclusion, and be able to refresh her spirits by a change of place and neighbour.

It was time to have done with cards, if sermons prevailed; and she was glad to refresh her spirits by a change of place and neighbour.


The chief of the party were now collected irregularly round the fire, and waiting the final break-up.

Most of the party were now collected round the fire.


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.

remained together at the deserted card-table, talking comfortably.


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.

Henry Crawford sat silently observing them for a few minutes; himself, in the meanwhile, observed by Sir Thomas.


"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?"


I shall have enough of Portsmouth and of dancing too, when I cannot have you.

I shall have enough of Portsmouth later.


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 has not a commission.

the Portsmouth girls turn up their noses at anybody who has not a commission.


One might as well be nothing as a midshipman.


You remember the Gregorys; they are grown up amazing fine girls, but they will hardly speak to _me_, because Lucy is courted by a lieutenant."

You remember the Gregorys; they are grown up amazing fine girls, but they will hardly speak to me, because Lucy is courted by a lieutenant."


But never mind it, William" (her own cheeks in a glow of indignation as she spoke).

But never mind, William" (her own cheeks in a glow of indignation).


It is no reflection on _you_; it is no more than what the greatest admirals have all experienced, more or less, in their time.

It is no more than the greatest admirals have experienced, 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.

You must think of it as one of the hardships which fall to every sailor, but it will end


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.


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 nearer to them than she had any suspicion of, and each found it necessary to talk of something else.

She was checked by the sight of her uncle much nearer to them than she had supposed, and each began to talk of something else.


"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.

I'd dance with you, for nobody would know who I was, and I should like to be your partner once more.


We used to jump about together many a time, did not we?


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?"

And turning to his uncle, "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.

Some very grave reproof 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.

But, on the contrary, Sir Thomas answered, "I am sorry to say that I


I have never seen Fanny dance since she was a little girl; but I trust we shall both think she acquits herself like a gentlewoman when we do see her, which, perhaps, we may have an opportunity of doing ere long."

have never seen Fanny dance; but I trust she will acquit herself like a gentlewoman when we do see her, which, perhaps, we may have an opportunity of doing before 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.

"I have had the pleasure of seeing your sister dance, Mr. Price," said Henry Crawford, leaning forward, "and will engage to answer your every inquiry on the subject.


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."

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 in 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 that she had been present than remembered anything about her.

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; but, in fact, he could not for the life of him recall what her dancing had been.