She had now seen all that were at home; there remained only two brothers between herself and Susan, one of whom was a clerk in a public office in London, and the other midshipman on board an Indiaman.

She had now seen all that were at home; there remained only two brothers between herself and Susan, one of whom was a clerk in London, and the other a midshipman on board an Indiaman.


But though she had _seen_ all the members of the family, she had not yet _heard_ all the noise they could make.

But though she had seen all the members of the family, she had not yet heard all the noise they could make.


Another quarter of an hour brought her a great deal more.


William was soon calling out from the landing-place of the second story for his mother and for Rebecca.

William was soon calling out from the landing for his mother and Rebecca.


He was in distress for something that he had left there, and did not find again.


A key was mislaid, Betsey accused of having got at his new hat, and some slight, but essential alteration of his uniform waistcoat, which he had been promised to have done for him, entirely neglected.

A key was mislaid, Betsey was accused of having got at his new hat, and some slight, but essential alteration of his uniform waistcoat, which he had been promised to have done for him, had been entirely neglected.


Mrs. Price, Rebecca, and Betsey all went up to defend themselves, all talking together, but Rebecca loudest, and the job was to be done as well as it could in a great hurry; William trying in vain to send Betsey down again, or keep her from being troublesome where she was; the whole of which, as almost every door in the house was open, could be plainly distinguished in the parlour, except when drowned at intervals by the superior noise of Sam, Tom, and Charles chasing each other up and down stairs, and tumbling about and hallooing.

Mrs. Price, Rebecca, and Betsey all went up to defend themselves, all talking together, but Rebecca loudest; William trying in vain to send Betsey down again; the whole of which, as almost every door in the house was open, could be plainly distinguished in the parlour, except when drowned by the superior noise of Sam, Tom, and Charles chasing each other up and down stairs, and tumbling about and hallooing.


The smallness of the house and thinness of the walls brought everything so close to her, that, added to the fatigue of her journey, and all her recent agitation, she hardly knew how to bear it.

The smallness of the house and thinness of the walls brought everything so close to her, that, added to the fatigue of her journey, she hardly knew how to bear it.


_Within_ the room all was tranquil enough, for Susan having disappeared with the others, there were soon only her father and herself remaining; and he, taking out a newspaper, the accustomary loan of a neighbour, applied himself to studying it, without seeming to recollect her existence.

Within the room all was tranquil enough, for there were only her father and herself remaining; and he, taking out a newspaper, applied himself to studying it, without seeming to recollect her existence.


The solitary candle was held between himself and the paper, without any reference to her possible convenience; but she had nothing to do, and was glad to have the light screened from her aching head, as she sat in bewildered, broken, sorrowful contemplation.

The solitary candle was held between himself and the paper; but she was glad to have the light screened from her aching head, as she sat in bewildered, broken contemplation.


it was not such a home, she had not such a welcome, as-she checked herself; she was unreasonable.


What right had she to be of importance to her family?


She could have none, so long lost sight of!


William's concerns must be dearest, they always had been, and he had every right.

William's concerns must be dearest, and he had every right.


Yet to have so little said or asked about herself, to have scarcely an inquiry made after Mansfield!

Yet to have so little asked about herself, to have scarcely an inquiry made after Mansfield!


It did pain her to have Mansfield forgotten; the friends who had done so much-the dear, dear friends!


But here, one subject swallowed up all the rest.


The destination of the Thrush must be now preeminently interesting.

The destination of the Thrush must be now pre-eminently interesting.


Yet she thought it would not have been so at Mansfield.


No, in her uncle's house there would have been a consideration of times and seasons, a regulation of subject, a propriety, an attention towards everybody which there was not here.

No, in her uncle's house there would have been a propriety, an attention towards everybody which there was not here.


The only interruption which thoughts like these received for nearly half an hour was from a sudden burst of her father's, not at all calculated to compose them.

The only interruption which her thoughts received for half an hour was from a sudden burst of her father's.


At a more than ordinary pitch of thumping and hallooing in the passage, he exclaimed, "Devil take those young dogs!


Ay, Sam's voice louder than all the rest!


Sam, stop your confounded pipe, or I shall be after you."


This threat was so palpably disregarded, that though within five minutes afterwards the three boys all burst into the room together and sat down, Fanny could not consider it as a proof of anything more than their being for the time thoroughly fagged, which their hot faces and panting breaths seemed to prove, especially as they were still kicking each other's shins, and hallooing out at sudden starts immediately under their father's eye.

This threat was so palpably disregarded, that though five minutes afterwards the three boys all burst into the room together and sat down, Fanny could not consider it as a proof of anything more than their being for the time thoroughly fagged, which their panting breaths seemed to prove, especially as they were still kicking each other's shins, and hallooing out at sudden starts immediately under their father's eye.


The next opening of the door brought something more welcome: it was for the tea-things, which she had begun almost to despair of seeing that evening.

The next opening of the door brought something more welcome: the tea-things, which she had begun almost to despair of seeing that evening.


Susan and an attendant girl, whose inferior appearance informed Fanny, to her great surprise, that she had previously seen the upper servant, brought in everything necessary for the meal; Susan looking, as she put the kettle on the fire and glanced at her sister, as if divided between the agreeable triumph of shewing her activity and usefulness, and the dread of being thought to demean herself by such an office.

Susan and an attendant girl, whose inferior appearance informed Fanny, to her great surprise, that she had previously seen the upper servant, brought in everything necessary for the meal.
Susan, putting the kettle on the fire and glancing at her sister, looked as if divided between the triumph of showing her usefulness, and the dread of being thought to demean herself by such a task.


"She had been into the kitchen," she said, "to hurry Sally and help make the toast, and spread the bread and butter, or she did not know when they should have got tea, and she was sure her sister must want something after her journey."


She could not but own that she should be very glad of a little tea, and Susan immediately set about making it, as if pleased to have the employment all to herself; and with only a little unnecessary bustle, and some few injudicious attempts at keeping her brothers in better order than she could, acquitted herself very well.

Susan immediately set about making the tea; and with only a little unnecessary bustle, and some injudicious attempts at keeping her brothers in order, acquitted herself very well.


Fanny's spirit was as much refreshed as her body; her head and heart were soon the better for such well-timed kindness.


Susan had an open, sensible countenance; she was like William, and Fanny hoped to find her like him in disposition and goodwill towards herself.

Susan had an open, sensible countenance; she was like William, and Fanny hoped to find her like him in disposition and goodwill.


In this more placid state of things William reentered, followed not far behind by his mother and Betsey.

William re-entered, followed by his mother and Betsey.


He, complete in his lieutenant's uniform, looking and moving all the taller, firmer, and more graceful for it, and with the happiest smile over his face, walked up directly to Fanny, who, rising from her seat, looked at him for a moment in speechless admiration, and then threw her arms round his neck to sob out her various emotions of pain and pleasure.

He, complete in his lieutenant's uniform, looking all the taller, firmer, and more graceful for it, and with the happiest smile over his face, walked up directly to Fanny, who, rising from her seat in speechless admiration, threw her arms round his neck to sob out her pleasure.


Anxious not to appear unhappy, she soon recovered herself; and wiping away her tears, was able to notice and admire all the striking parts of his dress; listening with reviving spirits to his cheerful hopes of being on shore some part of every day before they sailed, and even of getting her to Spithead to see the sloop.

Anxious not to appear unhappy, she soon recovered, and was able to admire his dress; listening with reviving spirits to his cheerful hopes of being on shore some part of every day before they sailed, and even of getting her to Spithead to see the ship.


The next bustle brought in Mr. Campbell, the surgeon of the Thrush, a very well-behaved young man, who came to call for his friend, and for whom there was with some contrivance found a chair, and with some hasty washing of the young tea-maker's, a cup and saucer; and after another quarter of an hour of earnest talk between the gentlemen, noise rising upon noise, and bustle upon bustle, men and boys at last all in motion together, the moment came for setting off; everything was ready, William took leave, and all of them were gone; for the three boys, in spite of their mother's entreaty, determined to see their brother and Mr. Campbell to the sally-port; and Mr. Price walked off at the same time to carry back his neighbour's newspaper.

The next bustle brought in Mr. Campbell, the surgeon of the Thrush, a very well-behaved young man, who came to call for his friend, and for whom there was with some contrivance found a chair, and with some hasty washing of the young tea-maker's, a cup and saucer; and after earnest talk between the gentlemen, noise rising upon noise, and bustle upon bustle, the moment came for setting off; everything was ready, William took leave, and all of them were gone; for the three boys were determined to see their brother and Mr. Campbell to the sally-port; and Mr. Price walked off at the same time.


Something like tranquillity might now be hoped for; and accordingly, when Rebecca had been prevailed on to carry away the tea-things, and Mrs. Price had walked about the room some time looking for a shirt-sleeve, which Betsey at last hunted out from a drawer in the kitchen, the small party of females were pretty well composed, and the mother having lamented again over the impossibility of getting Sam ready in time, was at leisure to think of her eldest daughter and the friends she had come from.

Something like tranquillity might now be hoped for. Accordingly, when Rebecca had been prevailed on to carry away the tea-things, the small party of females was pretty well composed, and the mother was at leisure to think of her eldest daughter and the friends she had come from.


A few inquiries began: but one of the earliest-"How did sister Bertram manage about her servants?"


"Was she as much plagued as herself to get tolerable servants?


"-soon led her mind away from Northamptonshire, and fixed it on her own domestic grievances, and the shocking character of all the Portsmouth servants, of whom she believed her own two were the very worst, engrossed her completely.

"-soon led her mind away from Northamptonshire, and fixed it on her own domestic grievances; and the shocking character of all the Portsmouth servants, of whom she believed her own two were the very worst, engrossed her completely.


The Bertrams were all forgotten in detailing the faults of Rebecca, against whom Susan had also much to depose, and little Betsey a great deal more, and who did seem so thoroughly without a single recommendation, that Fanny could not help modestly presuming that her mother meant to part with her when her year was up.


cried Mrs. Price; "I am sure I hope I shall be rid of her before she has staid a year, for that will not be up till November.


Servants are come to such a pass, my dear, in Portsmouth, that it is quite a miracle if one keeps them more than half a year.


I have no hope of ever being settled; and if I was to part with Rebecca, I should only get something worse.


And yet I do not think I am a very difficult mistress to please; and I am sure the place is easy enough, for there is always a girl under her, and I often do half the work myself."


Fanny was silent; but not from being convinced that there might not be a remedy found for some of these evils.


As she now sat looking at Betsey, she could not but think particularly of another sister, a very pretty little girl, whom she had left there not much younger when she went into Northamptonshire, who had died a few years afterwards.

As she sat looking at Betsey, she could not help thinking of another sister, a very pretty little girl, whom she had left when she went into Northamptonshire, and who had died a few years afterwards.


There had been something remarkably amiable about her.


Fanny in those early days had preferred her to Susan; and when the news of her death had at last reached Mansfield, had for a short time been quite afflicted.

Fanny in those days had preferred her to Susan; and when the news of her death had reached Mansfield, had been quite afflicted.


The sight of Betsey brought the image of little Mary back again, but she would not have pained her mother by alluding to her for the world.


While considering her with these ideas, Betsey, at a small distance, was holding out something to catch her eyes, meaning to screen it at the same time from Susan's.

Meanwhile Betsey was holding out something to catch her eyes, meaning to screen it at the same time from Susan's.


Up jumped Susan, claiming it as her own, and trying to get it away; but the child ran to her mother's protection, and Susan could only reproach, which she did very warmly, and evidently hoping to interest Fanny on her side.

Up jumped Susan, claiming it as her own, and trying to get it away; but the child ran to her mother's protection, and Susan could only reproach.


"It was very hard that she was not to have her _own_ knife; it was her own knife; little sister Mary had left it to her upon her deathbed, and she ought to have had it to keep herself long ago.

"It was very hard that she was not to have her own knife; little sister Mary had left it to her upon her deathbed, and she ought to have had it to keep.


But mama kept it from her, and was always letting Betsey get hold of it; and the end of it would be that Betsey would spoil it, and get it for her own, though mama had _promised_ her that Betsey should not have it in her own hands."

But mama kept it from her, and was always letting Betsey get hold of it; and the end of it would be that Betsey would spoil it, and get it for her own."


Every feeling of duty, honour, and tenderness was wounded by her sister's speech and her mother's reply.


"Now, Susan," cried Mrs. Price, in a complaining voice, "now, how can you be so cross?

"Now, Susan," cried Mrs. Price, in a complaining voice, "how can you be so cross?


You are always quarrelling about that knife.


Poor little Betsey; how cross Susan is to you!


But you should not have taken it out, my dear, when I sent you to the drawer.

But you should not have taken it out of the drawer, my dear.


You know I told you not to touch it, because Susan is so cross about it.


Poor Mary little thought it would be such a bone of contention when she gave it me to keep, only two hours before she died.

Poor Mary little thought it would be such a bone of contention when she gave it me to keep.


she could but just speak to be heard, and she said so prettily, 'Let sister Susan have my knife, mama, when I am dead and buried.'

She said, 'Let sister Susan have my knife, mama, when I am dead.'


she was so fond of it, Fanny, that she would have it lay by her in bed, all through her illness.

She was so fond of it, Fanny, that she would have it lay by her in bed, all through her illness.


It was the gift of her good godmother, old Mrs. Admiral Maxwell, only six weeks before she was taken for death.


Well, she was taken away from evil to come.


My own Betsey" (fondling her), "_you_ have not the luck of such a good godmother.

My own Betsey, you have not the luck of such a good godmother.


Aunt Norris lives too far off to think of such little people as you."


Fanny had indeed nothing to convey from aunt Norris, but a message to say she hoped that her god-daughter was a good girl, and learnt her book.

Indeed, Fanny had nothing to convey from aunt Norris, but a message to say she hoped that her god-daughter was a good girl, and learnt her book.


There had been at one moment a slight murmur in the drawing-room at Mansfield Park about sending her a prayer-book; but no second sound had been heard of such a purpose.

Mrs. Norris had thought of sending her a prayer-book; had


Mrs. Norris, however, had gone home and taken down two old prayer-books of her husband with that idea; but, upon examination, the ardour of generosity went off.


One was found to have too small a print for a child's eyes, and the other to be too cumbersome for her to carry about.

One was found to have too small a print for a child's eyes, and the other to be too cumbersome.


Fanny, fatigued and fatigued again, was thankful to accept the first invitation of going to bed; and before Betsey had finished her cry at being allowed to sit up only one hour extraordinary in honour of sister, she was off, leaving all below in confusion and noise again; the boys begging for toasted cheese, her father calling out for his rum and water, and Rebecca never where she ought to be.

Fanny, fatigued, was thankful to accept the first invitation of going to bed, leaving all below in confusion and noise again; the boys begging for toasted cheese, her father calling out for his rum and water, and Rebecca never where she ought to be.


There was nothing to raise her spirits in the confined and scantily furnished chamber that she was to share with Susan.


The smallness of the rooms above and below, indeed, and the narrowness of the passage and staircase, struck her beyond her imagination.

The smallness of the rooms, and the narrowness of the passage and staircase, struck her.


She soon learned to think with respect of her own little attic at Mansfield Park, in _that_ house reckoned too small for anybody's comfort.

She thought with respect of her own little attic at Mansfield Park, which in that house was reckoned too small for anybody's comfort.


Sir Thomas was to return in November, and his eldest son had duties to call him earlier home.


The approach of September brought tidings of Mr. Bertram, first in a letter to the gamekeeper and then in a letter to Edmund; and by the end of August he arrived himself, to be gay, agreeable, and gallant again as occasion served, or Miss Crawford demanded; to tell of races and Weymouth, and parties and friends, to which she might have listened six weeks before with some interest, and altogether to give her the fullest conviction, by the power of actual comparison, of her preferring his younger brother.

At the end of August Mr Tom Bertram arrived, to be gay, agreeable, and gallant as Miss Crawford demanded; to tell of races and parties and friends, to which she might have listened six weeks before with some interest, and altogether to convince her that she preferred his younger brother.


It was very vexatious, and she was heartily sorry for it; but so it was; and so far from now meaning to marry the elder, she did not even want to attract him beyond what the simplest claims of conscious beauty required: his lengthened absence from Mansfield, without anything but pleasure in view, and his own will to consult, made it perfectly clear that he did not care about her; and his indifference was so much more than equalled by her own, that were he now to step forth the owner of Mansfield Park, the Sir Thomas complete, which he was to be in time, she did not believe she could accept him.

It was very vexatious, and she was heartily sorry for it; but so it was; and far from now meaning to marry the elder, she did not even want to attract him beyond what the simplest claims of conscious beauty required. His long absence from Mansfield made it clear that he did not care about her; and were he now the owner of Mansfield Park, she did not believe she could accept him.


The season and duties which brought Mr. Bertram back to Mansfield took Mr. Crawford into Norfolk.

The season which brought Mr. Bertram back to Mansfield took Mr. Crawford into Norfolk.


Everingham could not do without him in the beginning of September.


He went for a fortnight-a fortnight of such dullness to the Miss Bertrams as ought to have put them both on their guard, and made even Julia admit, in her jealousy of her sister, the absolute necessity of distrusting his attentions, and wishing him not to return; and a fortnight of sufficient leisure, in the intervals of shooting and sleeping, to have convinced the gentleman that he ought to keep longer away, had he been more in the habit of examining his own motives, and of reflecting to what the indulgence of his idle vanity was tending; but, thoughtless and selfish from prosperity and bad example, he would not look beyond the present moment.

He went for a fortnight-a fortnight of such dullness to the Miss Bertrams as ought to have put them on their guard, and made even Julia see the need to distrust his attentions; and a fortnight of sufficient leisure, between shooting and sleeping, to have convinced the gentleman that he ought to keep longer away; but, thoughtless and selfish from prosperity and bad example, he would not look beyond the present.


The sisters, handsome, clever, and encouraging, were an amusement to his sated mind; and finding nothing in Norfolk to equal the social pleasures of Mansfield, he gladly returned to it at the time appointed, and was welcomed thither quite as gladly by those whom he came to trifle with further.

The sisters, handsome, clever, and encouraging, were an amusement to his sated mind; and he gladly returned to Mansfield, to be welcomed quite as gladly by those whom he came to trifle with.


Maria, with only Mr. Rushworth to attend to her, and doomed to the repeated details of his day's sport, good or bad, his boast of his dogs, his jealousy of his neighbours, his doubts of their qualifications, and his zeal after poachers, subjects which will not find their way to female feelings without some talent on one side or some attachment on the other, had missed Mr. Crawford grievously; and Julia, unengaged and unemployed, felt all the right of missing him much more.

Maria, with only Mr. Rushworth to attend to her, and doomed to hear repeated details of his day's sport, his dogs, his neighbours' jealousy, and his zeal after poachers, had missed Mr. Crawford grievously; and Julia felt all the right of missing him much more.


Each sister believed herself the favourite.


Julia might be justified in so doing by the hints of Mrs. Grant, inclined to credit what she wished, and Maria by the hints of Mr. Crawford himself.

Julia might be justified in so doing by the hints of Mrs. Grant, and Maria by the hints of Mr. Crawford himself.


Everything returned into the same channel as before his absence; his manners being to each so animated and agreeable as to lose no ground with either, and just stopping short of the consistence, the steadiness, the solicitude, and the warmth which might excite general notice.

Everything returned into the same channel as before his absence. His manners to each were so agreeable as to lose no ground with either, and just stopped short of the warmth which might excite general notice.


Fanny was the only one of the party who found anything to dislike; but since the day at Sotherton, she could never see Mr. Crawford with either sister without observation, and seldom without wonder or censure; and had her confidence in her own judgment been equal to her exercise of it in every other respect, had she been sure that she was seeing clearly, and judging candidly, she would probably have made some important communications to her usual confidant.

Only Fanny found anything to dislike; but since the day at Sotherton, she could never see Mr. Crawford with either sister without wonder or censure. Had her confidence in her own judgment been greater, she would probably have spoken of it to Edmund.


As it was, however, she only hazarded a hint, and the hint was lost.

As it was, she only hazarded a hint, and the hint was lost.


"I am rather surprised," said she, "that Mr. Crawford should come back again so soon, after being here so long before, full seven weeks; for I had understood he was so very fond of change and moving about, that I thought something would certainly occur, when he was once gone, to take him elsewhere.

"I am surprised," said she, "that Mr. Crawford should come back again so soon; for I had understood he was so very fond of change that he would go elsewhere.


He is used to much gayer places than Mansfield."


"It is to his credit," was Edmund's answer; "and I dare say it gives his sister pleasure.

"It is to his credit," was Edmund's answer; "His sister


She does not like his unsettled habits."


"What a favourite he is with my cousins!"


"Yes, his manners to women are such as must please.


Mrs. Grant, I believe, suspects him of a preference for Julia; I have never seen much symptom of it, but I wish it may be so.

Mrs. Grant, I believe, suspects him of a preference for Julia; I wish it may be so."


He has no faults but what a serious attachment would remove."


"If Miss Bertram were not engaged," said Fanny cautiously, "I could sometimes almost think that he admired her more than Julia."


"Which is, perhaps, more in favour of his liking Julia best, than you, Fanny, may be aware; for I believe it often happens that a man, before he has quite made up his own mind, will distinguish the sister or intimate friend of the woman he is really thinking of more than the woman herself.

"Which is, perhaps, in favour of his liking Julia best; for I believe it often happens that a man, before he has quite made up his own mind, will distinguish the sister or friend of the woman he is thinking of more than the woman herself.


Crawford has too much sense to stay here if he found himself in any danger from Maria; and I am not at all afraid for her, after such a proof as she has given that her feelings are not strong."

Crawford has too much sense to stay here if he found himself in any danger from Maria; and she has given proof by her engagement that her feelings are not strong."


Fanny supposed she must have been mistaken, and meant to think differently in future; but with all that submission to Edmund could do, and all the help of the coinciding looks and hints which she occasionally noticed in some of the others, and which seemed to say that Julia was Mr. Crawford's choice, she knew not always what to think.

Fanny supposed she must have been mistaken; but she knew not always what to think.


She was privy, one evening, to the hopes of her aunt Norris on the subject, as well as to her feelings, and the feelings of Mrs. Rushworth, on a point of some similarity, and could not help wondering as she listened; and glad would she have been not to be obliged to listen, for it was while all the other young people were dancing, and she sitting, most unwillingly, among the chaperons at the fire, longing for the re-entrance of her elder cousin, on whom all her own hopes of a partner then depended.

Hearing the hopes of her aunt Norris on the subject, she could not help wondering. It was while all the other young people were dancing, and she was sitting unwillingly among the chaperons, longing for the re-entrance of her elder cousin, on whom all her own hopes of a partner depended.


It was Fanny's first ball, though without the preparation or splendour of many a young lady's first ball, being the thought only of the afternoon, built on the late acquisition of a violin player in the servants' hall, and the possibility of raising five couple with the help of Mrs. Grant and a new intimate friend of Mr. Bertram's just arrived on a visit.

It was Fanny's first ball, though without the preparation or splendour of many a young lady's first ball. It had been thought of only that afternoon, on the strength of a violin player in the servants' hall; and five couples were found with the help of a new intimate friend of Mr. Bertram's just arrived on a visit.


It had, however, been a very happy one to Fanny through four dances, and she was quite grieved to be losing even a quarter of an hour.

Fanny, however, had been very happy through four dances, and was grieved to be losing even a quarter of an hour.


While waiting and wishing, looking now at the dancers and now at the door, this dialogue between the two above-mentioned ladies was forced on her-

While waiting and wishing, she heard this dialogue between Mrs Norris and Mrs Rushworth-


"I think, ma'am," said Mrs. Norris, her eyes directed towards Mr. Rushworth and Maria, who were partners for the second time, "we shall see some happy faces again now."

"I think, ma'am," said Mrs. Norris, watching Mr. Rushworth and Maria, "we shall see some happy faces again now."


"Yes, ma'am, indeed," replied the other, with a stately simper, "there will be some satisfaction in looking on _now_, and I think it was rather a pity they should have been obliged to part.

"Yes, indeed," replied the other, with a stately simper, "I think it was a pity they should have had to part.


Young folks in their situation should be excused complying with the common forms.

Young folks in their situation should be excused complying with custom."


But dear Maria has such a strict sense of propriety, so much of that true delicacy which one seldom meets with nowadays, Mrs. Rushworth-that wish of avoiding particularity!

"Dear Maria has such a strict sense of propriety, so much of that true delicacy which one seldom meets with nowadays, Mrs. Rushworth.


Dear ma'am, only look at her face at this moment; how different from what it was the two last dances!"

Only look at her face; how different from what it was the two last dances!"


Miss Bertram did indeed look happy, her eyes were sparkling with pleasure, and she was speaking with great animation, for Julia and her partner, Mr. Crawford, were close to her; they were all in a cluster together.

Miss Bertram did indeed look happy; her eyes were sparkling with pleasure, for Julia and her partner, Mr. Crawford, were close to her.


How she had looked before, Fanny could not recollect, for she had been dancing with Edmund herself, and had not thought about her.

How she had looked before, Fanny could not recollect, for she had been dancing with Edmund.


Mrs. Norris continued, "It is quite delightful, ma'am, to see young people so properly happy, so well suited, and so much the thing!

Mrs. Norris continued, "It is quite delightful, ma'am, to see young people so well suited!


I cannot but think of dear Sir Thomas's delight.


And what do you say, ma'am, to the chance of another match?


Mr. Rushworth has set a good example, and such things are very catching."


Mrs. Rushworth, who saw nothing but her son, was quite at a loss.

Mrs. Rushworth, who saw nothing but her son, was at a loss.


Those who have not more must be satisfied with what they have.


Four thousand a year is a pretty estate, and he seems a very genteel, steady young man, so I hope Miss Julia will be very happy."

He seems a genteel, steady young man, so I hope Miss Julia will be very happy."


But I have very little doubt it _will_ be.

But I have very little doubt it will be.


He is growing extremely particular in his attentions."


Listening and wondering were all suspended for a time, for Mr. Bertram was in the room again; and though feeling it would be a great honour to be asked by him, she thought it must happen.

Mr. Bertram was in the room; and though feeling it would be a great honour to be asked to dance by him, she thought it must happen.


He came towards their little circle; but instead of asking her to dance, drew a chair near her, and gave her an account of the present state of a sick horse, and the opinion of the groom, from whom he had just parted.

He came towards their little circle; but instead of asking her to dance, drew up a chair, and gave her an account of the present state of a sick horse.


Fanny found that it was not to be, and in the modesty of her nature immediately felt that she had been unreasonable in expecting it.

Fanny found that it was not to be, and immediately felt that she had been unreasonable in expecting it.


When he had told of his horse, he took a newspaper from the table, and looking over it, said in a languid way, "If you want to dance, Fanny, I will stand up with you."

Next, he took a newspaper from the table, and said in a languid way, "If you want to dance, Fanny, I will stand up with you."


With more than equal civility the offer was declined; she did not wish to dance.

With equal civility the offer was declined; she did not wish to dance.


"I am glad of it," said he, in a much brisker tone, and throwing down the newspaper again, "for I am tired to death.

"I am glad," said he, more briskly, "for I am tired to death.


I only wonder how the good people can keep it up so long.

I only wonder how people can keep it up so long.


They had need be _all_ in love, to find any amusement in such folly; and so they are, I fancy.

They must be all in love, to find any amusement in such folly."


If you look at them you may see they are so many couple of lovers-all but Yates and Mrs. Grant-and, between ourselves, she, poor woman, must want a lover as much as any one of them.


A desperate dull life hers must be with the doctor," making a sly face as he spoke towards the chair of the latter, who proving, however, to be close at his elbow, made so instantaneous a change of expression and subject necessary, as Fanny, in spite of everything, could hardly help laughing at.


"A strange business this in America, Dr. Grant!


I always come to you to know what I am to think of public matters."


"My dear Tom," cried his aunt soon afterwards, "as you are not dancing, I dare say you will have no objection to join us in a rubber; shall you?"

"My dear Tom," cried his aunt, "as you are not dancing, you will have no objection to join us at cards; shall you?"


Then leaving her seat, and coming to him to enforce the proposal, added in a whisper, "We want to make a table for Mrs. Rushworth, you know.

She added in a whisper, "We want to make a table for Mrs. Rushworth, you know.


Your mother is quite anxious about it, but cannot very well spare time to sit down herself, because of her fringe.


Now, you and I and Dr. Grant will just do; and though _we_ play but half-crowns, you know, you may bet half-guineas with _him_."

You and I and Dr. Grant; and you know, you may bet half-guineas with him."


"I should be most happy," replied he aloud, and jumping up with alacrity, "it would give me the greatest pleasure; but that I am this moment going to dance.

"I should be most happy," replied he, jumping up with alacrity, "but I am this moment going to dance.


Come, Fanny," taking her hand, "do not be dawdling any longer, or the dance will be over."


Fanny was led off very willingly, though it was impossible for her to feel much gratitude towards her cousin, or distinguish, as he certainly did, between the selfishness of another person and his own.

Fanny was led off very willingly, though it was impossible for her to feel much gratitude towards her cousin.


"A pretty modest request upon my word," he indignantly exclaimed as they walked away.

"Upon my word," he exclaimed as they walked away.


"To want to nail me to a card-table for the next two hours with herself and Dr. Grant, who are always quarrelling, and that poking old woman, who knows no more of whist than of algebra.

"To want to nail me to a card-table for the next two hours with that poking old woman.


I wish my good aunt would be a little less busy!


without ceremony, before them all, so as to leave me no possibility of refusing.

so as to leave me no possibility of refusing!


_That_ is what I dislike most particularly.


It raises my spleen more than anything, to have the pretence of being asked, of being given a choice, and at the same time addressed in such a way as to oblige one to do the very thing, whatever it be!

I hate the pretence of being given a choice, and at the same time obliged to do the very thing!


If I had not luckily thought of standing up with you I could not have got out of it.


But when my aunt has got a fancy in her head, nothing can stop her."


The conference was neither so short nor so conclusive as the lady had designed.


The gentleman was not so easily satisfied.


He had all the disposition to persevere that Sir Thomas could wish him.


He had vanity, which strongly inclined him in the first place to think she did love him, though she might not know it herself; and which, secondly, when constrained at last to admit that she did know her own present feelings, convinced him that he should be able in time to make those feelings what he wished.

He had vanity, which strongly inclined him to think she did love him, though she might not know it herself; and which, secondly, when forced at last to admit that she did know her own present feelings, convinced him that he should be able in time to make those feelings what he wished.


He was in love, very much in love; and it was a love which, operating on an active, sanguine spirit, of more warmth than delicacy, made her affection appear of greater consequence because it was withheld, and determined him to have the glory, as well as the felicity, of forcing her to love him.

He was very much in love; and it was a love which made her affection appear of greater consequence because it was withheld, and determined him to have the glory, as well as the felicity, of forcing her to love him.


He would not despair: he would not desist.


He had every well-grounded reason for solid attachment; he knew her to have all the worth that could justify the warmest hopes of lasting happiness with her; her conduct at this very time, by speaking the disinterestedness and delicacy of her character (qualities which he believed most rare indeed), was of a sort to heighten all his wishes, and confirm all his resolutions.

He knew her to have all the worth that could justify the warmest hopes of lasting happiness; her conduct at this time, by showing the delicacy of her character, heightened all his wishes, and confirmed his resolutions.


He knew not that he had a pre-engaged heart to attack.


He considered her rather as one who had never thought on the subject enough to be in danger; who had been guarded by youth, a youth of mind as lovely as of person; whose modesty had prevented her from understanding his attentions, and who was still overpowered by the suddenness of addresses so wholly unexpected, and the novelty of a situation which her fancy had never taken into account.

He considered her rather as one who had never thought on the subject; who had been guarded by youth; whose modesty had prevented her from understanding his attentions, and who was overpowered by the suddenness of a situation which she had never imagined.


Must it not follow of course, that, when he was understood, he should succeed?

Must it not follow that, of course, he should succeed?


Love such as his, in a man like himself, must with perseverance secure a return, and at no great distance; and he had so much delight in the idea of obliging her to love him in a very short time, that her not loving him now was scarcely regretted.

Love such as his, in a man like himself, must be returned; and he had so much delight in the idea of obliging her to love him in a very short time, that her not loving him now was scarcely regretted.


A little difficulty to be overcome was no evil to Henry Crawford.


He had been apt to gain hearts too easily.


To Fanny, however, who had known too much opposition all her life to find any charm in it, all this was unintelligible.


She found that he did mean to persevere; but how he could, after such language from her as she felt herself obliged to use, was not to be understood.

She found that he did mean to persevere; but how he could was beyond her understanding.


She told him that she did not love him, could not love him, was sure she never should love him; that such a change was quite impossible; that the subject was most painful to her; that she must entreat him never to mention it again, to allow her to leave him at once, and let it be considered as concluded for ever.

She told him that she did not love him, could not love him, was sure she never should love him; that a change was quite impossible; that the subject was most painful to her; that she must entreat him never to mention it again.


And when farther pressed, had added, that in her opinion their dispositions were so totally dissimilar as to make mutual affection incompatible; and that they were unfitted for each other by nature, education, and habit.

She added that in her opinion they were totally unfitted for each other by nature, education, and habit.


All this she had said, and with the earnestness of sincerity; yet this was not enough, for he immediately denied there being anything uncongenial in their characters, or anything unfriendly in their situations; and positively declared, that he would still love, and still hope!

All this she had said; yet this was not enough, for he immediately denied there being anything uncongenial in their characters, and positively declared, that he would still love, and hope!


Fanny knew her own meaning, but was no judge of her own manner.


Her manner was incurably gentle; and she was not aware how much it concealed the sternness of her purpose.


Her diffidence, gratitude, and softness made every expression of indifference seem almost an effort of self-denial; seem, at least, to be giving nearly as much pain to herself as to him.

Her diffidence and softness made every expression of indifference seem to be giving nearly as much pain to herself as to him.


Mr. Crawford was no longer the Mr. Crawford who, as the clandestine, insidious, treacherous admirer of Maria Bertram, had been her abhorrence, whom she had hated to see or to speak to, in whom she could believe no good quality to exist, and whose power, even of being agreeable, she had barely acknowledged.

Mr. Crawford was no longer the Mr. Crawford who, as the clandestine, insidious, treacherous admirer of Maria Bertram, had been her abhorrence.


He was now the Mr. Crawford who was addressing herself with ardent, disinterested love; whose feelings were apparently become all that was honourable and upright, whose views of happiness were all fixed on a marriage of attachment; who was pouring out his sense of her merits, describing and describing again his affection, proving as far as words could prove it, and in the language, tone, and spirit of a man of talent too, that he sought her for her gentleness and her goodness; and to complete the whole, he was now the Mr. Crawford who had procured William's promotion!

He was now the Mr. Crawford who was addressing herself with ardent, disinterested love; whose feelings were apparently honourable and upright; who was describing and describing again his affection, proving that he sought her for her gentleness and her goodness; and to complete the whole, he was now the Mr. Crawford who had procured William's promotion!


Here was a change, and here were claims which could not but operate!


She might have disdained him in all the dignity of angry virtue, in the grounds of Sotherton, or the theatre at Mansfield Park; but he approached her now with rights that demanded different treatment.

She might have disdained him in the grounds of Sotherton, or the theatre at Mansfield Park; but now


She must be courteous, and she must be compassionate.

she must be courteous and compassionate.


She must have a sensation of being honoured, and whether thinking of herself or her brother, she must have a strong feeling of gratitude.


The effect of the whole was a manner so pitying and agitated, and words intermingled with her refusal so expressive of obligation and concern, that to a temper of vanity and hope like Crawford's, the truth, or at least the strength of her indifference, might well be questionable; and he was not so irrational as Fanny considered him, in the professions of persevering, assiduous, and not desponding attachment which closed the interview.

Her refusal was so expressive of obligation and concern, that Crawford might well question its truth; and he was not so irrational as Fanny considered him, in his professions of persevering attachment which closed the interview.


It was with reluctance that he suffered her to go; but there was no look of despair in parting to belie his words, or give her hopes of his being less unreasonable than he professed himself.


Some resentment did arise at a perseverance so selfish and ungenerous.


Here was again a want of delicacy and regard for others which had formerly so struck and disgusted her.

Here was again the want of delicacy and regard for others which had formerly so struck her


Here was again a something of the same Mr. Crawford whom she had so reprobated before.


How evidently was there a gross want of feeling and humanity where his own pleasure was concerned-And, alas!

; a gross want of feeling and humanity where his own pleasure was concerned.


how always known no principle to supply as a duty what the heart was deficient in.


Had her own affections been as free-as perhaps they ought to have been-he never could have engaged them.

Had her own affections been free, he never could have engaged them.


So thought Fanny, in good truth and sober sadness, as she sat musing over that too great indulgence and luxury of a fire upstairs: wondering at the past and present; wondering at what was yet to come, and in a nervous agitation which made nothing clear to her but the persuasion of her being never under any circumstances able to love Mr. Crawford, and the felicity of having a fire to sit over and think of it.

So thought Fanny, in sober sadness, as she sat musing over her luxury of a fire upstairs: wondering at what was yet to come, and with nothing clear but the certainty of her being never able to love Mr. Crawford.


Sir Thomas was obliged, or obliged himself, to wait till the morrow for a knowledge of what had passed between the young people.


He then saw Mr. Crawford, and received his account.

received Mr. Crawford's account of what had passed.


The first feeling was disappointment: he had hoped better things; he had thought that an hour's entreaty from a young man like Crawford could not have worked so little change on a gentle-tempered girl like Fanny; but there was speedy comfort in the determined views and sanguine perseverance of the lover; and when seeing such confidence of success in the principal, Sir Thomas was soon able to depend on it himself.

His first feeling was disappointment: he had thought that an hour's entreaty from Crawford could not have worked so little change on a gentle girl like Fanny; but there was comfort in the sanguine perseverance of the lover.


Nothing was omitted, on his side, of civility, compliment, or kindness, that might assist the plan.

Sir Thomas omitted no civility or kindness that might assist the plan.


Mr. Crawford's steadiness was honoured, and Fanny was praised, and the connexion was still the most desirable in the world.


At Mansfield Park Mr. Crawford would always be welcome; he had only to consult his own judgment and feelings as to the frequency of his visits, at present or in future.

At Mansfield Park Mr. Crawford would always be welcome.


In all his niece's family and friends, there could be but one opinion, one wish on the subject; the influence of all who loved her must incline one way.


Everything was said that could encourage, every encouragement received with grateful joy, and the gentlemen parted the best of friends.

Everything was said that could encourage, and the gentlemen parted the best of friends.


Satisfied that the cause was now on a footing the most proper and hopeful, Sir Thomas resolved to abstain from all farther importunity with his niece, and to shew no open interference.

Satisfied that the cause was now on a hopeful footing, Sir Thomas resolved not to press his niece farther.


Upon her disposition he believed kindness might be the best way of working.

He believed kindness might be the best way of working.


Entreaty should be from one quarter only.


The forbearance of her family on a point, respecting which she could be in no doubt of their wishes, might be their surest means of forwarding it.

The forbearance of her family on the point might be their surest means of forwarding it.


Accordingly, on this principle, Sir Thomas took the first opportunity of saying to her, with a mild gravity, intended to be overcoming, "Well, Fanny, I have seen Mr. Crawford again, and learn from him exactly how matters stand between you.

Accordingly, he took the first opportunity of saying to her, with gravity, "Well, Fanny, I have seen Mr. Crawford again, and learnt from him exactly how matters stand.


He is a most extraordinary young man, and whatever be the event, you must feel that you have created an attachment of no common character; though, young as you are, and little acquainted with the transient, varying, unsteady nature of love, as it generally exists, you cannot be struck as I am with all that is wonderful in a perseverance of this sort against discouragement.

He is a most extraordinary young man, and whatever happens, you must feel that you have created an attachment of no common character; though, young as you are, and little acquainted with the unsteady nature of love, as it generally exists, you cannot be struck as I am by a perseverance of this sort."


With him it is entirely a matter of feeling: he claims no merit in it; perhaps is entitled to none.


Yet, having chosen so well, his constancy has a respectable stamp.


Had his choice been less unexceptionable, I should have condemned his persevering."


"Indeed, sir," said Fanny, "I am very sorry that Mr. Crawford should continue to-I know that it is paying me a very great compliment, and I feel most undeservedly honoured; but I am so perfectly convinced, and I have told him so, that it never will be in my power-"

"Indeed, sir," said Fanny, "I feel most undeservedly honoured; but I am so perfectly convinced, and I have told him so, that it never will be in my power-"


"My dear," interrupted Sir Thomas, "there is no occasion for this.

"My dear," interrupted Sir Thomas, "there is no need for this.


Your feelings are as well known to me as my wishes and regrets must be to you.

Your feelings are as well known to me as my wishes must be to you.


There is nothing more to be said or done.


From this hour the subject is never to be revived between us.


You will have nothing to fear, or to be agitated about.


You cannot suppose me capable of trying to persuade you to marry against your inclinations.

: you cannot suppose me capable of trying to persuade you to marry against your will.


Your happiness and advantage are all that I have in view, and nothing is required of you but to bear with Mr. Crawford's endeavours to convince you that they may not be incompatible with his.

Your happiness and advantage are all that I have in view, and nothing is required of you but to bear with Mr. Crawford's endeavours to convince you.


I have engaged for your seeing him whenever he calls, as you might have done had nothing of this sort occurred.

I have engaged for your seeing him whenever he calls, as you might have done had nothing occurred.


You will see him with the rest of us, in the same manner, and, as much as you can, dismissing the recollection of everything unpleasant.

You will see him with the rest of us, in the same manner.


He leaves Northamptonshire so soon, that even this slight sacrifice cannot be often demanded.


And now, my dear Fanny, this subject is closed between us."


The promised departure was all that Fanny could think of with much satisfaction.


Her uncle's kind expressions, however, and forbearing manner, were sensibly felt; and when she considered how much of the truth was unknown to him, she believed she had no right to wonder at the line of conduct he pursued.


He, who had married a daughter to Mr. Rushworth: romantic delicacy was certainly not to be expected from him.


She must do her duty, and trust that time might make her duty easier than it now was.

She must do her duty, and trust that time might make her duty easier.


She could not, though only eighteen, suppose Mr. Crawford's attachment would hold out for ever; she could not but imagine that steady, unceasing discouragement from herself would put an end to it in time.

She could not, though only eighteen, suppose Mr. Crawford's attachment would hold out for ever.


How much time she might, in her own fancy, allot for its dominion, is another concern.


It would not be fair to inquire into a young lady's exact estimate of her own perfections.


In spite of his intended silence, Sir Thomas found himself once more obliged to mention the subject to his niece, to prepare her briefly for its being imparted to her aunts; a measure which he would still have avoided, if possible, but which became necessary from the totally opposite feelings of Mr. Crawford as to any secrecy of proceeding.

In spite of his intended silence, Sir Thomas found himself once more obliged to mention the subject to his niece, to prepare her for its being imparted to her aunts; a measure which he would have avoided, if possible, but which became necessary from Mr. Crawford's opposition to any secrecy.


It was all known at the Parsonage, where he loved to talk over the future with both his sisters, and it would be rather gratifying to him to have enlightened witnesses of the progress of his success.

It was all known at the Parsonage, where he loved to talk over the future with his sisters: it would gratify him to have enlightened witnesses of the progress of his success.


When Sir Thomas understood this, he felt the necessity of making his own wife and sister-in-law acquainted with the business without delay; though, on Fanny's account, he almost dreaded the effect of the communication to Mrs. Norris as much as Fanny herself.

When Sir Thomas understood this, he felt he must tell his own wife and sister-in-law about the business without delay; though, on Fanny's account, he dreaded the effect of the communication to Mrs. Norris almost as much as Fanny herself.


He deprecated her mistaken but well-meaning zeal.


Sir Thomas, indeed, was, by this time, not very far from classing Mrs. Norris as one of those well-meaning people who are always doing mistaken and very disagreeable things.


He pressed for the strictest forbearance and silence towards their niece; she not only promised, but did observe it.

He pressed for the strictest forbearance and silence towards their niece; she did observe it.


Angry she was: bitterly angry; but she was more angry with Fanny for having received such an offer than for refusing it.


It was an injury and affront to Julia, who ought to have been Mr. Crawford's choice; and, independently of that, she disliked Fanny, because she had neglected her; and she would have grudged such an elevation to one whom she had been always trying to depress.

It was an affront to Julia, who ought to have been Mr. Crawford's choice; and, independently of that, she disliked Fanny, because she had neglected her; and she would have grudged such an elevation to one whom she had been always trying to depress.


Sir Thomas gave her more credit for discretion on the occasion than she deserved; and Fanny could have blessed her for allowing her only to see her displeasure, and not to hear it.


She had been a beauty, and a prosperous beauty, all her life; and beauty and wealth were all that excited her respect.

She had been a prosperous beauty all her life; and beauty and wealth were all that excited her respect.


To know Fanny to be sought in marriage by a man of fortune, raised her, therefore, very much in her opinion.

To know Fanny was sought in marriage by a man of fortune, raised her, therefore, very much in her opinion.


By convincing her that Fanny _was_ very pretty, which she had been doubting about before, and that she would be advantageously married, it made her feel a sort of credit in calling her niece.

By convincing her that Fanny was very pretty, which she had doubted before, and that she would be advantageously married, it made her feel a sort of credit in having her for a niece.


"Well, Fanny," said she, as soon as they were alone together afterwards, and she really had known something like impatience to be alone with her, and her countenance, as she spoke, had extraordinary animation; "Well, Fanny, I have had a very agreeable surprise this morning.

"Well, Fanny," said she, with extraordinary animation, when they were alone together; "Well, Fanny, I have had a very agreeable surprise this morning.


I must just speak of it _once_, I told Sir Thomas I must _once_, and then I shall have done.

I must just speak of it once, and then I shall have done.


And looking at her complacently, she added, "Humph, we certainly are a handsome family!"


Fanny coloured, and doubted at first what to say; when, hoping to assail her on her vulnerable side, she presently answered-


"My dear aunt, _you_ cannot wish me to do differently from what I have done, I am sure.


_You_ cannot wish me to marry; for you would miss me, should not you?

cannot wish me to marry, I am sure; for you would miss me, should not you?"


Yes, I am sure you would miss me too much for that."


"No, my dear, I should not think of missing you, when such an offer as this comes in your way.


I could do very well without you, if you were married to a man of such good estate as Mr. Crawford.


And you must be aware, Fanny, that it is every young woman's duty to accept such a very unexceptionable offer as this."

You must be aware, Fanny, that it is every young woman's duty to accept such a very unexceptionable offer as this."


This was almost the only rule of conduct, the only piece of advice, which Fanny had ever received from her aunt in the course of eight years and a half.

This was almost the only piece of advice which Fanny had ever received from her aunt.


She felt how unprofitable contention would be.


If her aunt's feelings were against her, nothing could be hoped from attacking her understanding.


However, Lady Bertram was quite talkative.


"I will tell you what, Fanny," said she, "I am sure he fell in love with you at the ball; I am sure the mischief was done that evening.

"I will tell you what, Fanny," said she, "I am sure he fell in love with you at the ball.


And you know you had Chapman to help you to dress.


I shall tell Sir Thomas that I am sure it was done that evening."


And still pursuing the same cheerful thoughts, she soon afterwards added, "And I will tell you what, Fanny, which is more than I did for Maria: the next time Pug has a litter you shall have a puppy."

And still pursuing her cheerful thoughts, she added, "And I will tell you what, Fanny: the next time Pug has a litter, you shall have a puppy."


Mr. Rushworth was at the door to receive his fair lady; and the whole party were welcomed by him with due attention.

Mr. Rushworth was at the door to welcome the party with due attention.


In the drawing-room they were met with equal cordiality by the mother, and Miss Bertram had all the distinction with each that she could wish.

In the drawing-room they were met with equal cordiality by the mother, and Miss Bertram had all the distinction that she could wish.


After the business of arriving was over, it was first necessary to eat, and the doors were thrown open to admit them through one or two intermediate rooms into the appointed dining-parlour, where a collation was prepared with abundance and elegance.

The doors were thrown open to admit them into the dining-parlour, where a luncheon was prepared with abundance and elegance.


Much was said, and much was ate, and all went well.

Much was said, and ate, and all went well.


The particular object of the day was then considered.


How would Mr. Crawford like, in what manner would he chuse, to take a survey of the grounds?


Mr. Crawford suggested the greater desirableness of some carriage which might convey more than two.


"To be depriving themselves of the advantage of other eyes and other judgments, might be an evil even beyond the loss of present pleasure."


Mrs. Rushworth proposed that the chaise should be taken also; but this was scarcely received as an amendment: the young ladies neither smiled nor spoke.


Her next proposition, of shewing the house to such of them as had not been there before, was more acceptable, for Miss Bertram was pleased to have its size displayed, and all were glad to be doing something.


The whole party rose accordingly, and under Mrs. Rushworth's guidance were shewn through a number of rooms, all lofty, and many large, and amply furnished in the taste of fifty years back, with shining floors, solid mahogany, rich damask, marble, gilding, and carving, each handsome in its way.

They rose accordingly, and under Mrs. Rushworth's guidance were shown through a number of rooms, all lofty, large, and amply furnished in the taste of fifty years back, with shining floors, solid mahogany, rich damask, marble, gilding, and carving, each handsome in its way.


Of pictures there were abundance, and some few good, but the larger part were family portraits, no longer anything to anybody but Mrs. Rushworth, who had been at great pains to learn all that the housekeeper could teach, and was now almost equally well qualified to shew the house.

There were many pictures, some good, but most were family portraits, no longer anything to anybody but Mrs. Rushworth.


On the present occasion she addressed herself chiefly to Miss Crawford and Fanny, but there was no comparison in the willingness of their attention; for Miss Crawford, who had seen scores of great houses, and cared for none of them, had only the appearance of civilly listening, while Fanny, to whom everything was almost as interesting as it was new, attended with unaffected earnestness to all that Mrs. Rushworth could relate of the family in former times, its rise and grandeur, regal visits and loyal efforts, delighted to connect anything with history already known, or warm her imagination with scenes of the past.

She addressed herself chiefly to Miss Crawford and Fanny. Miss Crawford, who had seen scores of great houses, and cared for none of them, had only the appearance of civilly listening, while Fanny, to whom everything was new, attended earnestly to all that Mrs. Rushworth could relate of the family in former times, delighted to connect anything with the history that she knew, or to warm her imagination with scenes of the past.


The situation of the house excluded the possibility of much prospect from any of the rooms; and while Fanny and some of the others were attending Mrs. Rushworth, Henry Crawford was looking grave and shaking his head at the windows.

There was not much prospect from any of the rooms; and Henry Crawford looked grave, shaking his head at the windows.


Every room on the west front looked across a lawn to the beginning of the avenue immediately beyond tall iron palisades and gates.

Every room on the west front looked across a lawn to the beginning of the avenue beyond tall iron palisades.


Having visited many more rooms than could be supposed to be of any other use than to contribute to the window-tax, and find employment for housemaids, "Now," said Mrs. Rushworth, "we are coming to the chapel, which properly we ought to enter from above, and look down upon; but as we are quite among friends, I will take you in this way, if you will excuse me."

"Now," said Mrs. Rushworth, "we are coming to the chapel."


Fanny's imagination had prepared her for something grander than a mere spacious, oblong room, fitted up for the purpose of devotion: with nothing more striking or more solemn than the profusion of mahogany, and the crimson velvet cushions appearing over the ledge of the family gallery above.

Fanny expected something grander than a spacious, oblong room, fitted up for the purpose of devotion: with nothing more striking or solemn than the profusion of mahogany, and crimson velvet cushions.


"I am disappointed," said she, in a low voice, to Edmund.

"I am disappointed," said she quietly to Edmund.


There is nothing awful here, nothing melancholy, nothing grand.

There is nothing melancholy, nothing grand.


Here are no aisles, no arches, no inscriptions, no banners.

Here are no aisles, no arches, no inscriptions.


No banners, cousin, to be 'blown by the night wind of heaven.'

No banners to be 'blown by the night wind of heaven.'"


No signs that a 'Scottish monarch sleeps below.'"


"You forget, Fanny, how lately all this has been built, and for how confined a purpose, compared with the old chapels of castles and monasteries.


It was only for the private use of the family.


They have been buried, I suppose, in the parish church.


_There_ you must look for the banners and the achievements."


"It was foolish of me not to think of all that; but I am disappointed."


, "This chapel was fitted up as you see it, in James the Second's time.


Before that period, as I understand, the pews were only wainscot; and there is some reason to think that the linings and cushions of the pulpit and family seat were only purple cloth; but this is not quite certain.

Before then, the pews were only wainscot; and the cushions only purple cloth.


It is a handsome chapel, and was formerly in constant use both morning and evening.

It is a handsome chapel, and was formerly in constant use.


Prayers were always read in it by the domestic chaplain, within the memory of many; but the late Mr. Rushworth left it off."

Prayers were read in it by the domestic chaplain, within the memory of many; but the late Mr. Rushworth left it off."


"Every generation has its improvements," said Miss Crawford, with a smile, to Edmund.


Mrs. Rushworth was gone to repeat her lesson to Mr. Crawford; and Edmund, Fanny, and Miss Crawford remained in a cluster together.


"It is a pity," cried Fanny, "that the custom should have been discontinued.


There is something in a chapel and chaplain so much in character with a great house, with one's ideas of what such a household should be!

It is so much in character with a great house!


A whole family assembling regularly for the purpose of prayer is fine!"


"Very fine indeed," said Miss Crawford, laughing.


"It must do the heads of the family a great deal of good to force all the poor housemaids and footmen to leave business and pleasure, and say their prayers here twice a day, while they are inventing excuses themselves for staying away."

"It must do the heads of the family good to force all the poor housemaids to say their prayers here twice a day, while they are inventing excuses themselves for staying away."


"_That_ is hardly Fanny's idea of a family assembling," said Edmund.

"That is hardly Fanny's idea of a family assembling," said Edmund.


"If the master and mistress do _not_ attend themselves, there must be more harm than good in the custom."


"At any rate, it is safer to leave people to their own devices on such subjects.

"It is safer to leave people to their own devices on such subjects.


Everybody likes to go their own way-to chuse their own time and manner of devotion.

Everybody likes to choose their own time and manner of devotion.


The obligation of attendance, the formality, the restraint, the length of time-altogether it is a formidable thing, and what nobody likes; and if the good people who used to kneel and gape in that gallery could have foreseen that the time would ever come when men and women might lie another ten minutes in bed, when they woke with a headache, without danger of reprobation, because chapel was missed, they would have jumped with joy and envy.

The obligation of attendance is a formidable thing.


Cannot you imagine with what unwilling feelings the former belles of the house of Rushworth did many a time repair to this chapel?

Cannot you imagine with what unwilling feelings the former belles of the house came to this chapel?


The young Mrs. Eleanors and Mrs. Bridgets-starched up into seeming piety, but with heads full of something very different-especially if the poor chaplain were not worth looking at-and, in those days, I fancy parsons were very inferior even to what they are now."

Starched up into seeming piety, but with heads full of something very different-especially if the poor chaplain were not worth looking at-and, in those days, I fancy parsons were inferior even to what they are now."


Fanny coloured and looked at Edmund, but felt too angry for speech; and he needed a little recollection before he could say, "Your lively mind can hardly be serious even on serious subjects.


You have given us an amusing sketch, and human nature cannot say it was not so.


We must all feel _at_ _times_ the difficulty of fixing our thoughts as we could wish; but if you are supposing it a frequent thing, that is to say, a weakness grown into a habit from neglect, what could be expected from the _private_ devotions of such persons?

We must all feel at times the difficulty of fixing our thoughts as we could wish; but


Do you think the minds which are suffered, which are indulged in wanderings in a chapel, would be more collected in a closet?"

do you think the minds which are indulged in wanderings in a chapel, would be more collected in a closet?"


They would have two chances at least in their favour.


There would be less to distract the attention from without, and it would not be tried so long."

There would be less to distract the attention, and it would not be taxed so long."


"The mind which does not struggle against itself under _one_ circumstance, would find objects to distract it in the _other_, I believe; and the influence of the place and of example may often rouse better feelings than are begun with.

"The mind would always find objects to distract it; and the influence of the place may often rouse better feelings than are begun with.


The greater length of the service, however, I admit to be sometimes too hard a stretch upon the mind.

The length of the service I admit to be sometimes too hard upon the mind.


One wishes it were not so; but I have not yet left Oxford long enough to forget what chapel prayers are."


While this was passing, the rest of the party being scattered about the chapel, Julia called Mr. Crawford's attention to her sister, by saying, "Do look at Mr. Rushworth and Maria, standing side by side, exactly as if the ceremony were going to be performed.

Meanwhile, Julia called Mr. Crawford's attention to her sister, saying, "Do look at Mr. Rushworth and Maria, standing side by side, exactly as if the wedding ceremony were going to be performed."


Have not they completely the air of it?"


Mr. Crawford smiled his acquiescence, and stepping forward to Maria, said, in a voice which she only could hear, "I do not like to see Miss Bertram so near the altar."

Mr. Crawford smiled, and stepping forward to Maria, said, in a voice which she only could hear, "I do not like to see Miss Bertram so near the altar."


Starting, the lady instinctively moved a step or two, but recovering herself in a moment, affected to laugh, and asked him, in a tone not much louder, "If he would give her away?"

Starting, the lady instinctively moved a step or two, but recovering, affected to laugh, and asked him, in a tone not much louder, "If he would give her away?"


"I am afraid I should do it very awkwardly," was his reply, with a look of meaning.


Julia, joining them at the moment, carried on the joke.

Julia, joining them, carried on the joke.


"Upon my word, it is really a pity that it should not take place directly, if we had but a proper licence, for here we are altogether, and nothing in the world could be more snug and pleasant."

"It is really a pity that it should not take place directly, if we had a licence, for nothing in the world could be more pleasant."


And she talked and laughed about it with so little caution as to catch the comprehension of Mr. Rushworth and his mother, and expose her sister to the whispered gallantries of her lover, while Mrs. Rushworth spoke with proper smiles and dignity of its being a most happy event to her whenever it took place.

And she talked about it with so little caution as to catch the comprehension of Mr. Rushworth, who whispered gallantries to Maria.


cried Julia, and running to where he stood with Miss Crawford and Fanny: "My dear Edmund, if you were but in orders now, you might perform the ceremony directly.

cried Julia: "My dear Edmund, if you were in orders now, you might perform the ceremony directly.


How unlucky that you are not ordained; Mr. Rushworth and Maria are quite ready."


Miss Crawford's countenance, as Julia spoke, might have amused a disinterested observer.


She looked almost aghast under the new idea she was receiving.

looked almost aghast under this new idea.


"How distressed she will be at what she said just now," passed across her mind.


said Miss Crawford; "what, are you to be a clergyman?"

said Miss Crawford; "are you to be a clergyman?"


"Yes; I shall take orders soon after my father's return-probably at Christmas."

"Yes; I shall take orders after my father's return-probably at Christmas."


Miss Crawford, rallying her spirits, and recovering her complexion, replied only, "If I had known this before, I would have spoken of the cloth with more respect," and turned the subject.

Miss Crawford, rallying her spirits, replied only, "If I had known this before, I would have spoken of the cloth with more respect," and turned the subject.


The chapel was soon afterwards left to the silence and stillness which reigned in it, with few interruptions, throughout the year.

The chapel was soon afterwards left to the silence which reigned in it throughout the year.


Miss Bertram, displeased with her sister, led the way, and all seemed to feel that they had been there long enough.

All seemed to feel that they had been there long enough.


The lower part of the house had been now entirely shewn, and Mrs. Rushworth, never weary in the cause, would have proceeded towards the principal staircase, and taken them through all the rooms above, if her son had not interposed with a doubt of there being time enough.

The lower part of the house had now been shown, and Mrs. Rushworth would have proceeded towards the staircase if her son had not interposed.


"For if," said he, with the sort of self-evident proposition which many a clearer head does not always avoid, "we are _too_ long going over the house, we shall not have time for what is to be done out of doors.

"We shall not have time to survey the grounds," said he.


"It is past two, and we are to dine at five."


Mrs. Rushworth submitted; and the question of surveying the grounds, with the who and the how, was likely to be more fully agitated, and Mrs. Norris was beginning to arrange by what junction of carriages and horses most could be done, when the young people, meeting with an outward door, temptingly open on a flight of steps which led immediately to turf and shrubs, and all the sweets of pleasure-grounds, as by one impulse, one wish for air and liberty, all walked out.

Mrs. Rushworth submitted; and Mrs. Norris was beginning to arrange by what combination of carriages and horses most could be done, when the young people, meeting with an outward door that opened temptingly on a flight of steps, as by one impulse, all walked out.


"Suppose we turn down here for the present," said Mrs. Rushworth, civilly taking the hint and following them.


"Here are the greatest number of our plants, and here are the curious pheasants."

"Here are the greatest number of our plants, and our pheasants."


"Query," said Mr. Crawford, looking round him, "whether we may not find something to employ us here before we go farther?

"I see walls of great promise," said Mr Crawford, looking round


Mr. Rushworth, shall we summon a council on this lawn?"


"James," said Mrs. Rushworth to her son, "I believe the wilderness will be new to all the party.


The Miss Bertrams have never seen the wilderness yet."


No objection was made, but for some time there seemed no inclination to move in any plan, or to any distance.


All were attracted at first by the plants or the pheasants, and all dispersed about in happy independence.


Mr. Crawford was the first to move forward to examine the capabilities of that end of the house.

He moved forward to examine the end of the house.


The lawn, bounded on each side by a high wall, contained beyond the first planted area a bowling-green, and beyond the bowling-green a long terrace walk, backed by iron palisades, and commanding a view over them into the tops of the trees of the wilderness immediately adjoining.

The lawn, bounded by a high wall, contained a bowling-green, and beyond the bowling-green a long terrace walk, backed by iron palisades, with a view over them into the tree-tops of a wilderness.


Mr. Crawford was soon followed by Miss Bertram and Mr. Rushworth; and when, after a little time, the others began to form into parties, these three were found in busy consultation on the terrace by Edmund, Miss Crawford, and Fanny, who seemed as naturally to unite, and who, after a short participation of their regrets and difficulties, left them and walked on.

Mr. Crawford was followed by Miss Bertram and Mr. Rushworth; and these three were found in busy consultation on the terrace by Edmund, Miss Crawford, and Fanny, who seemed as naturally to unite, and who, after a few words, left them and walked on.


The remaining three, Mrs. Rushworth, Mrs. Norris, and Julia, were still far behind; for Julia, whose happy star no longer prevailed, was obliged to keep by the side of Mrs. Rushworth, and restrain her impatient feet to that lady's slow pace, while her aunt, having fallen in with the housekeeper, who was come out to feed the pheasants, was lingering behind in gossip with her.

The remaining three, Mrs. Rushworth, Mrs. Norris, and Julia, were still far behind; for Julia, whose happy star no longer prevailed, was obliged to stay with Mrs. Rushworth, and restrain her impatient feet to that lady's slow pace, while her aunt was lingering behind in gossip with the housekeeper.


Poor Julia, the only one out of the nine not tolerably satisfied with their lot, was now in a state of complete penance, and as different from the Julia of the barouche-box as could well be imagined.

Poor Julia was now as different from the Julia of the barouche-box as could be imagined.


The politeness which she had been brought up to practise as a duty made it impossible for her to escape; while the want of that higher species of self-command, that just consideration of others, that knowledge of her own heart, that principle of right, which had not formed any essential part of her education, made her miserable under it.

Politeness made it impossible for her to escape; while the want of that self-command, that consideration of others, that principle of right, which had not formed any essential part of her education, made her miserable.


"This is insufferably hot," said Miss Crawford, when they had taken one turn on the terrace, and were drawing a second time to the door in the middle which opened to the wilderness.

"This is insufferably hot," said Miss Crawford, when her group of three had taken a turn on the terrace, and were near the door to the wilderness.


"Shall any of us object to being comfortable?


Here is a nice little wood, if one can but get into it.


What happiness if the door should not be locked!


but of course it is; for in these great places the gardeners are the only people who can go where they like."


The door, however, proved not to be locked, and they were all agreed in turning joyfully through it, and leaving the unmitigated glare of day behind.

The door, however, proved not to be locked, and they turned joyfully through it, leaving the glare of day behind.


A considerable flight of steps landed them in the wilderness, which was a planted wood of about two acres, and though chiefly of larch and laurel, and beech cut down, and though laid out with too much regularity, was darkness and shade, and natural beauty, compared with the bowling-green and the terrace.

A flight of steps landed them in the wilderness, which was a planted wood of about two acres. Though it was chiefly of larch and laurel, laid out with too much regularity, it was shade and natural beauty compared with the terrace.


They all felt the refreshment of it, and for some time could only walk and admire.


At length, after a short pause, Miss Crawford began with, "So you are to be a clergyman, Mr. Bertram.

At length, Miss Crawford began, "So you are to be a clergyman, Mr. Bertram.


You must suppose me designed for some profession, and might perceive that I am neither a lawyer, nor a soldier, nor a sailor."

You must suppose me designed for some profession."


"Very true; but, in short, it had not occurred to me.


And you know there is generally an uncle or a grandfather to leave a fortune to the second son."

"There is generally an uncle or a grandfather to leave a fortune to the second son."


"A very praiseworthy practice," said Edmund, "but not quite universal.


I am one of the exceptions, and _being_ one, must do something for myself."

Being one of the exceptions, I must do something for myself."


I thought _that_ was always the lot of the youngest, where there were many to chuse before him."

I thought that was always the lot of the youngest, where many chose before him."


"Do you think the church itself never chosen, then?"


But yes, in the _never_ of conversation, which means _not_ _very_ _often_, I do think it.

But yes, in the never of conversation, which means not very often, I do think it.


Men love to distinguish themselves, and in either of the other lines distinction may be gained, but not in the church.

Men love to distinguish themselves, and in other lines distinction may be gained, but not in the church.


"The _nothing_ of conversation has its gradations, I hope, as well as the _never_.

"The nothing of conversation has its gradations too, I hope.


A clergyman cannot be high in state or fashion.


He must not head mobs, or set the ton in dress.


But I cannot call that situation nothing which has the charge of all that is of the first importance to mankind, individually or collectively considered, temporally and eternally, which has the guardianship of religion and morals, and consequently of the manners which result from their influence.

But I cannot call it nothing to have the charge of all that is of the first importance to mankind, the guardianship of religion and of morals.


No one here can call the _office_ nothing.


If the man who holds it is so, it is by the neglect of his duty, by foregoing its just importance, and stepping out of his place to appear what he ought not to appear."


"_You_ assign greater consequence to the clergyman than one has been used to hear given, or than I can quite comprehend.

"You give greater consequence to the clergyman than I can comprehend.


One does not see much of this influence and importance in society, and how can it be acquired where they are so seldom seen themselves?

One does not see much of this importance in society.


How can two sermons a week, even supposing them worth hearing, supposing the preacher to have the sense to prefer Blair's to his own, do all that you speak of?


govern the conduct and fashion the manners of a large congregation for the rest of the week?

govern the conduct of a large congregation for the rest of the week?


One scarcely sees a clergyman out of his pulpit."


"_You_ are speaking of London, _I_ am speaking of the nation at large."

"You are speaking of London, I am speaking of the nation at large."


"The metropolis, I imagine, is a pretty fair sample of the rest."


"Not, I should hope, of the proportion of virtue to vice throughout the kingdom.


"We do not look in great cities for our best morality.


It is not there that respectable people of any denomination can do most good; and it certainly is not there that the influence of the clergy can be most felt.

It is not there that the influence of the clergy can be most felt.


A fine preacher is followed and admired; but it is not in fine preaching only that a good clergyman will be useful in his parish and his neighbourhood, where the parish and neighbourhood are of a size capable of knowing his private character, and observing his general conduct, which in London can rarely be the case.

A fine preacher is admired; but it is not in fine preaching only that a good clergyman will be useful, where the parish and neighbourhood know his character, and can observe his conduct, which in London can rarely be the case.


The clergy are lost there in the crowds of their parishioners.


They are known to the largest part only as preachers.


And with regard to their influencing public manners, Miss Crawford must not misunderstand me, or suppose I mean to call them the arbiters of good-breeding, the regulators of refinement and courtesy, the masters of the ceremonies of life.


The _manners_ I speak of might rather be called _conduct_, perhaps, the result of good principles; the effect, in short, of those doctrines which it is their duty to teach and recommend; and it will, I believe, be everywhere found, that as the clergy are, or are not what they ought to be, so are the rest of the nation."

It will, I believe, be everywhere found, that as the clergy are, or are not what they ought to be, so are the rest of the nation."


"Certainly," said Fanny, with gentle earnestness.


"There," cried Miss Crawford, "you have quite convinced Miss Price already."

"There," cried Miss Crawford, "you have convinced Miss Price already."


"I wish I could convince Miss Crawford too."


"I do not think you ever will," said she, with an arch smile; "I am just as much surprised now as I was at first that you should intend to take orders.

"I do not think you ever will," said she, with an arch smile; "I am still surprised now that you should intend to take orders.


You really are fit for something better.


With as much ease as I was told to go into this wilderness."


"Now you are going to say something about law being the worst wilderness of the two, but I forestall you; remember, I have forestalled you."

"Now you are going to say something about law being the worse wilderness of the two, but I forestall you."


"You need not hurry when the object is only to prevent my saying a _bon_ _mot_, for there is not the least wit in my nature.

"You need not, for there is not the least wit in my nature.


I am a very matter-of-fact, plain-spoken being, and may blunder on the borders of a repartee for half an hour together without striking it out."

I am a very matter-of-fact, plain-spoken being, and may blunder on the borders of a repartee for half an hour together without getting it out."


Fanny made the first interruption by saying, "I wonder that I should be tired with only walking in this sweet wood; but the next time we come to a seat, if it is not disagreeable to you, I should be glad to sit down for a little while."

Fanny made the first interruption by saying, "I wonder that I should be tired with only walking in this sweet wood; but the next time we come to a seat, I should be glad to sit down for a little while."


"My dear Fanny," cried Edmund, immediately drawing her arm within his, "how thoughtless I have been!


Perhaps," turning to Miss Crawford, "my other companion may do me the honour of taking an arm."


She took it, however, as she spoke, and the gratification of having her do so, of feeling such a connexion for the first time, made him a little forgetful of Fanny.

She took it, however, and the gratification of feeling such a connexion for the first time made him a little forgetful of Fanny.


"What a difference in the weight of a woman's arm from that of a man!


At Oxford I have been a good deal used to have a man lean on me for the length of a street, and you are only a fly in the comparison."

At Oxford I have been used to have a man lean on me for the length of a street, and you are only a fly in comparison."


"I am really not tired, which I almost wonder at; for we must have walked at least a mile in this wood.


"Not half a mile," was his sturdy answer; for he was not yet so much in love as to measure distance, or reckon time, with feminine lawlessness.


you do not consider how much we have wound about.


We have taken such a very serpentine course, and the wood itself must be half a mile long in a straight line, for we have never seen the end of it yet since we left the first great path."

And we have not seen the end of the wood since we left the first path."


"But if you remember, before we left that first great path, we saw directly to the end of it.

"But if you remember, before we left that first path, we saw directly to the end of it.


We looked down the whole vista, and saw it closed by iron gates, and it could not have been more than a furlong in length."


I know nothing of your furlongs, but I am sure it is a very long wood, and that we have been winding in and out ever since we came into it; and therefore, when I say that we have walked a mile in it, I must speak within compass."

I know nothing of your furlongs, but I am sure it is a very long wood, and that we have been winding in and out ever since we came into it; and therefore I say that we have walked a mile."


"We have been exactly a quarter of an hour here," said Edmund, taking out his watch.


"Do you think we are walking four miles an hour?"


A watch is always too fast or too slow."


A few steps farther brought them out at the bottom of the very walk they had been talking of; and standing back, well shaded and sheltered, and looking over a ha-ha into the park, was a comfortable-sized bench, on which they all sat down.

A few steps brought them out at the bottom of the very walk they had been talking of; and well shaded and looking over a deep ditch, a ha-ha, into the park, was a bench, on which they all sat down.


"I am afraid you are very tired, Fanny," said Edmund, observing her; "why would not you speak sooner?

"I am afraid you are very tired, Fanny," said Edmund; "why would not you speak sooner?


This will be a bad day's amusement for you if you are to be knocked up.


Every sort of exercise fatigues her so soon, Miss Crawford, except riding."


"How abominable in you, then, to let me engross her horse as I did all last week!


I am ashamed of you and of myself, but it shall never happen again."


"_Your_ attentiveness and consideration makes me more sensible of my own neglect.

"Your consideration makes me more aware of my own neglect.


Fanny's interest seems in safer hands with you than with me."

Fanny's well-being seems in safer hands with you than with me."


"That she should be tired now, however, gives me no surprise; for there is nothing in the course of one's duties so fatiguing as what we have been doing this morning: seeing a great house, dawdling from one room to another, straining one's eyes and one's attention, hearing what one does not understand, admiring what one does not care for.

"I am not surprised that she is tired now; for there is nothing so fatiguing as seeing a great house, dawdling from one room to another, straining one's eyes and one's attention, hearing what one does not understand, admiring what one does not care for.


It is generally allowed to be the greatest bore in the world, and Miss Price has found it so, though she did not know it."

It is the greatest bore in the world, and Miss Price has found it so, though she did not know it."


"I shall soon be rested," said Fanny; "to sit in the shade on a fine day, and look upon verdure, is the most perfect refreshment."

"I shall soon be rested," said Fanny; "to sit in the shade, and look upon verdure, is the most perfect refreshment."


After sitting a little while Miss Crawford was up again.


"I must move," said she; "resting fatigues me.


I have looked across the ha-ha till I am weary.


I must go and look through that iron gate at the same view, without being able to see it so well."


"Now, Miss Crawford, if you will look up the walk, you will convince yourself that it cannot be half a mile long, or half half a mile."

"Now, Miss Crawford, if you look up the walk, you will see that it cannot be half a mile long."


"It is an immense distance," said she; "I see _that_ with a glance."

"It is an immense distance; I see that with a glance."


He still reasoned with her, but in vain.


She would not calculate, she would not compare.


The greatest degree of rational consistency could not have been more engaging, and they talked with mutual satisfaction.


At last it was agreed that they should endeavour to determine the dimensions of the wood by walking a little more about it.

At last they agreed to determine the dimensions of the wood by walking a little more about it.


They would go to one end of it, in the line they were then in-for there was a straight green walk along the bottom by the side of the ha-ha-and perhaps turn a little way in some other direction, if it seemed likely to assist them, and be back in a few minutes.

They would go to one end of it, and turn a little way in some other direction, and be back in a few minutes.


Fanny said she was rested, and would have moved too, but this was not suffered.

Fanny said she was rested, and would have moved too, but this was not allowed.


Edmund urged her remaining where she was with an earnestness which she could not resist, and she was left on the bench to think with pleasure of her cousin's care, but with great regret that she was not stronger.

Edmund urged her to remain where she was. She was left on the bench to think with pleasure of her cousin's care, but with regret that she was not stronger.


She watched them till they had turned the corner, and listened till all sound of them had ceased.


Edmund had determined that it belonged entirely to Fanny to chuse whether her situation with regard to Crawford should be mentioned between them or not; and that if she did not lead the way, it should never be touched on by him; but after a day or two of mutual reserve, he was induced by his father to change his mind, and try what his influence might do for his friend.

Edmund had determined that if Fanny did not choose to speak of it, her situation should never be touched on by him; but after a day or two his father induced him to change his mind, and try what his influence might do for his friend.


A day, and a very early day, was actually fixed for the Crawfords' departure; and Sir Thomas thought it might be as well to make one more effort for the young man before he left Mansfield, that all his professions and vows of unshaken attachment might have as much hope to sustain them as possible.

An early day was fixed for the Crawfords' departure; and Sir Thomas thought it might be as well to make one more effort for the young man before he left Mansfield, so that his vows of unshaken attachment might have as much hope to sustain them as possible.


Sir Thomas was most cordially anxious for the perfection of Mr. Crawford's character in that point.

Sir Thomas was most anxious for the perfection of Mr. Crawford's character in that point.


He wished him to be a model of constancy; and fancied the best means of effecting it would be by not trying him too long.

He wished him to be a model of constancy; and fancied the best means of ensuring it would be by not testing him too long.


Edmund was not unwilling to be persuaded to engage in the business; he wanted to know Fanny's feelings.

Edmund was willingly persuaded to talk to Fanny; he wanted to know her feelings.


She had been used to consult him in every difficulty, and he loved her too well to bear to be denied her confidence now; he hoped to be of service to her, he thought he must be of service to her; whom else had she to open her heart to?

She used to consult him in every difficulty, and he loved her too well to bear to be denied her confidence now. Whom else had she to open her heart to?


If she did not need counsel, she must need the comfort of communication.


Fanny estranged from him, silent and reserved, was an unnatural state of things; a state which he must break through, and which he could easily learn to think she was wanting him to break through.

Fanny estranged from him, silent and reserved, was an unnatural state of things; a state which he must break through.


"I will speak to her, sir: I will take the first opportunity of speaking to her alone," was the result of such thoughts as these; and upon Sir Thomas's information of her being at that very time walking alone in the shrubbery, he instantly joined her.

When she was walking alone in the shrubbery, therefore, he joined her.


"I am come to walk with you, Fanny," said he.


"It is a long while since we have had a comfortable walk together."


She assented to it all rather by look than word.


"But, Fanny," he presently added, "in order to have a comfortable walk, something more is necessary than merely pacing this gravel together.

"But, Fanny," he added, "in order to have a comfortable walk,


Am I to hear of it from everybody but Fanny herself?"


Fanny, at once agitated and dejected, replied, "If you hear of it from everybody, cousin, there can be nothing for me to tell."


"Not of facts, perhaps; but of feelings, Fanny.


If it is not what you wish yourself, I have done.