Fanny Price was at this time just ten years old, and though there might not be much in her first appearance to captivate, there was, at least, nothing to disgust her relations.

Fanny Price was just ten years old, and though there might not be much in her appearance to captivate, there was, at least, nothing to disgust her relations.


She was small of her age, with no glow of complexion, nor any other striking beauty; exceedingly timid and shy, and shrinking from notice; but her air, though awkward, was not vulgar, her voice was sweet, and when she spoke her countenance was pretty.

She was small for her age, with no glow of complexion, nor any other striking beauty; exceedingly timid and shy, and shrinking from notice; but her air, though awkward, was not vulgar, her voice was sweet, and when she spoke her countenance was pretty.


Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram received her very kindly; and Sir Thomas, seeing how much she needed encouragement, tried to be all that was conciliating: but he had to work against a most untoward gravity of deportment; and Lady Bertram, without taking half so much trouble, or speaking one word where he spoke ten, by the mere aid of a good-humoured smile, became immediately the less awful character of the two.

Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram received her very kindly; and Sir Thomas tried to be conciliating: but he had to work against his gravity of deportment; and Lady Bertram, without taking half so much trouble, by the mere aid of a good-humoured smile, became immediately the less awful character of the two.


The young people were all at home, and sustained their share in the introduction very well, with much good humour, and no embarrassment, at least on the part of the sons, who, at seventeen and sixteen, and tall of their age, had all the grandeur of men in the eyes of their little cousin.

The young people were all at home, and received Fanny with much good humour, at least on the part of the sons, who, at seventeen and sixteen, had all the grandeur of men in the eyes of their little cousin.


The two girls were more at a loss from being younger and in greater awe of their father, who addressed them on the occasion with rather an injudicious particularity.

The two girls were more at a loss from being younger and in greater awe of their father.


But they were too much used to company and praise to have anything like natural shyness; and their confidence increasing from their cousin's total want of it, they were soon able to take a full survey of her face and her frock in easy indifference.

But, their confidence increasing from their cousin's want of it, they were soon able to take a survey of her face and her frock in easy indifference.


They were a remarkably fine family, the sons very well-looking, the daughters decidedly handsome, and all of them well-grown and forward of their age, which produced as striking a difference between the cousins in person, as education had given to their address; and no one would have supposed the girls so nearly of an age as they really were.

They were a remarkably fine family, the sons well-looking, the daughters handsome, and all of them well-grown for their age, which produced a striking difference between the cousins; no one would have supposed the girls so close in age as they really were.


There were in fact but two years between the youngest and Fanny.


Julia Bertram was only twelve, and Maria but a year older.

Julia Bertram was twelve, and Maria a year older.


The little visitor meanwhile was as unhappy as possible.


Afraid of everybody, ashamed of herself, and longing for the home she had left, she knew not how to look up, and could scarcely speak to be heard, or without crying.


Mrs. Norris had been talking to her the whole way from Northampton of her wonderful good fortune, and the extraordinary degree of gratitude and good behaviour which it ought to produce, and her consciousness of misery was therefore increased by the idea of its being a wicked thing for her not to be happy.

Mrs. Norris had been talking to her the whole way from Northampton of her wonderful good fortune, and the extraordinary degree of gratitude which it ought to produce, and her misery was therefore increased by the idea of its being a wicked thing for her not to be happy.


The fatigue, too, of so long a journey, became soon no trifling evil.

The fatigue, too, of so long a journey, was not trifling.


In vain were the well-meant condescensions of Sir Thomas, and all the officious prognostications of Mrs. Norris that she would be a good girl; in vain did Lady Bertram smile and make her sit on the sofa with herself and pug, and vain was even the sight of a gooseberry tart towards giving her comfort; she could scarcely swallow two mouthfuls before tears interrupted her, and sleep seeming to be her likeliest friend, she was taken to finish her sorrows in bed.

She could scarcely swallow two mouthfuls of gooseberry tart before tears interrupted her, and she was taken to finish her sorrows in bed.


"This is not a very promising beginning," said Mrs. Norris, when Fanny had left the room.


"After all that I said to her as we came along, I thought she would have behaved better; I told her how much might depend upon her acquitting herself well at first.

"After all that I said to her as we came along, I thought she would have behaved better.


I wish there may not be a little sulkiness of temper-her poor mother had a good deal; but we must make allowances for such a child-and I do not know that her being sorry to leave her home is really against her, for, with all its faults, it _was_ her home, and she cannot as yet understand how much she has changed for the better; but then there is moderation in all things."

I hope there may not be a little sulkiness of temper-her poor mother had a good deal; but we must make allowances for such a child-and I do not know that her being sorry to leave her home is really against her, for, with all its faults, it was her home."


It required a longer time, however, than Mrs. Norris was inclined to allow, to reconcile Fanny to the novelty of Mansfield Park, and the separation from everybody she had been used to.

It required a long time, however, to reconcile Fanny to the novelty of Mansfield Park.


Her feelings were very acute, and too little understood to be properly attended to.

Her feelings were very acute, and not properly attended to.


Nobody meant to be unkind, but nobody put themselves out of their way to secure her comfort.


The holiday allowed to the Miss Bertrams the next day, on purpose to afford leisure for getting acquainted with, and entertaining their young cousin, produced little union.

The Miss Bertrams were allowed a holiday the next day, to give them leisure for getting acquainted with their young cousin.


They could not but hold her cheap on finding that she had but two sashes, and had never learned French; and when they perceived her to be little struck with the duet they were so good as to play, they could do no more than make her a generous present of some of their least valued toys, and leave her to herself, while they adjourned to whatever might be the favourite holiday sport of the moment, making artificial flowers or wasting gold paper.

However, having found that she had but two sashes, and had never learned French, they made her a generous present of some of their least valued toys, and left her to herself.


Fanny, whether near or from her cousins, whether in the schoolroom, the drawing-room, or the shrubbery, was equally forlorn, finding something to fear in every person and place.

Fanny, whether in the schoolroom, the drawing-room, or the shrubbery, was equally forlorn, finding something to fear in every person and place.


She was disheartened by Lady Bertram's silence, awed by Sir Thomas's grave looks, and quite overcome by Mrs. Norris's admonitions.

She was disheartened by Lady Bertram's silence, awed by Sir Thomas's grave looks, and quite overcome by Mrs. Norris's scoldings.


Her elder cousins mortified her by reflections on her size, and abashed her by noticing her shyness: Miss Lee wondered at her ignorance, and the maid-servants sneered at her clothes; and when to these sorrows was added the idea of the brothers and sisters among whom she had always been important as playfellow, instructress, and nurse, the despondence that sunk her little heart was severe.

Her elder cousins abashed her by noticing her shyness: Miss Lee wondered at her ignorance, and the maid-servants sneered at her clothes. When to these sorrows was added the memory of the brothers and sisters among whom she had been important as playfellow, instructress, and nurse, the despondence that sunk her little heart was severe.


The grandeur of the house astonished, but could not console her.


The rooms were too large for her to move in with ease: whatever she touched she expected to injure, and she crept about in constant terror of something or other; often retreating towards her own chamber to cry; and the little girl who was spoken of in the drawing-room when she left it at night as seeming so desirably sensible of her peculiar good fortune, ended every day's sorrows by sobbing herself to sleep.

The rooms were too large: whatever she touched she expected to injure, and she crept about in constant terror, often retreating to her own chamber to cry; and ended every day's sorrows by sobbing herself to sleep.


A week had passed in this way, and no suspicion of it conveyed by her quiet passive manner, when she was found one morning by her cousin Edmund, the youngest of the sons, sitting crying on the attic stairs.

A week had passed in this way, with no suspicion of it conveyed by her quiet passive manner, when she was found one morning by her cousin Edmund, the youngest of the sons, sitting crying on the attic stairs.


"My dear little cousin," said he, with all the gentleness of an excellent nature, "what can be the matter?"


And sitting down by her, he was at great pains to overcome her shame in being so surprised, and persuade her to speak openly.

And sitting down by her, he was at great pains to persuade her to speak openly.


or had she quarrelled with Maria and Julia?


or was she puzzled about anything in her lesson that he could explain?


Did she, in short, want anything he could possibly get her, or do for her?


For a long while no answer could be obtained beyond a "no, no-not at all-no, thank you"; but he still persevered; and no sooner had he begun to revert to her own home, than her increased sobs explained to him where the grievance lay.

For a long while no answer could be obtained beyond a "no, no-not at all"; but he persevered; and no sooner had he mentioned her own home, than her sobs explained where the grievance lay.


"You are sorry to leave Mama, my dear little Fanny," said he, "which shows you to be a very good girl; but you must remember that you are with relations and friends, who all love you, and wish to make you happy.


Let us walk out in the park, and you shall tell me all about your brothers and sisters."

Let us walk out in the park, and you shall tell me about your brothers and sisters."


On pursuing the subject, he found that, dear as all these brothers and sisters generally were, there was one among them who ran more in her thoughts than the rest.

On doing this, he found that there was one among them who ran more in her thoughts than the rest.


It was William whom she talked of most, and wanted most to see.


William, the eldest, a year older than herself, her constant companion and friend; her advocate with her mother (of whom he was the darling) in every distress.

William, the eldest, a year older than herself, her constant friend.


"William did not like she should come away; he had told her he should miss her very much indeed."

"William did not like she should come away; he had told her he should miss her very much."


"But William will write to you, I dare say."


"Yes, he had promised he would, but he had told _her_ to write first."

"Yes, but he had told her to write first."


She hung her head and answered hesitatingly, "she did not know; she had not any paper."

She hung her head and answered hesitatingly, "she had not any paper."


"If that be all your difficulty, I will furnish you with paper and every other material, and you may write your letter whenever you choose.

"If that be all your difficulty, I will furnish you with paper, and you may write your letter whenever you choose.


Would it make you happy to write to William?"


Come with me into the breakfast-room, we shall find everything there, and be sure of having the room to ourselves."

Come with me into the breakfast-room, we shall find everything there."


"Yes, depend upon me it shall: it shall go with the other letters; and, as your uncle will frank it, it will cost William nothing."

"Yes, it shall go with the other letters; and, as your uncle will frank it, it will cost William nothing."


"Yes, when you have written the letter, I will take it to my father to frank."

"Yes, I will take it to my father to frank."


Fanny thought it a bold measure, but offered no further resistance; and they went together into the breakfast-room, where Edmund prepared her paper, and ruled her lines with all the goodwill that her brother could himself have felt, and probably with somewhat more exactness.

Fanny offered no further resistance; and they went together into the breakfast-room, where Edmund prepared her paper, and ruled her lines with all the goodwill that her brother could have felt, and probably with more exactness.


He continued with her the whole time of her writing, to assist her with his penknife or his orthography, as either were wanted; and added to these attentions, which she felt very much, a kindness to her brother which delighted her beyond all the rest.

He stayed to assist her; and showed a kindness to her brother which delighted her.


He wrote with his own hand his love to his cousin William, and sent him half a guinea under the seal.

He wrote with his own hand his love to cousin William, and sent him half a guinea under the seal.


Fanny's feelings on the occasion were such as she believed herself incapable of expressing; but her countenance and a few artless words fully conveyed all their gratitude and delight, and her cousin began to find her an interesting object.

Fanny's countenance and artless words fully conveyed all her gratitude, and her cousin began to find her an interesting object.


He talked to her more, and, from all that she said, was convinced of her having an affectionate heart, and a strong desire of doing right; and he could perceive her to be farther entitled to attention by great sensibility of her situation, and great timidity.

He talked to her more, and was convinced of her having an affectionate heart, and a desire of doing right; and perceiving her great timidity, he


He had never knowingly given her pain, but he now felt that she required more positive kindness; and with that view endeavoured, in the first place, to lessen her fears of them all, and gave her especially a great deal of good advice as to playing with Maria and Julia, and being as merry as possible.

gave her much good advice as to playing with Maria and Julia, and being as merry as possible.


From this day Fanny grew more comfortable.


She felt that she had a friend, and the kindness of her cousin Edmund gave her better spirits with everybody else.


The place became less strange, and the people less formidable; and if there were some amongst them whom she could not cease to fear, she began at least to know their ways, and to catch the best manner of conforming to them.

The place became less strange, and the people less formidable.


The little rusticities and awkwardnesses which had at first made grievous inroads on the tranquillity of all, and not least of herself, necessarily wore away, and she was no longer materially afraid to appear before her uncle, nor did her aunt Norris's voice make her start very much.

She was no longer afraid to appear before her uncle, nor did her aunt Norris's voice startle her so much.


To her cousins she became occasionally an acceptable companion.


Though unworthy, from inferiority of age and strength, to be their constant associate, their pleasures and schemes were sometimes of a nature to make a third very useful, especially when that third was of an obliging, yielding temper; and they could not but own, when their aunt inquired into her faults, or their brother Edmund urged her claims to their kindness, that "Fanny was good-natured enough."

Their pleasures were sometimes of a nature to make a third very useful, especially when that third was of an obliging temper; and they owned that "Fanny was good-natured enough."


Edmund was uniformly kind himself; and she had nothing worse to endure on the part of Tom than that sort of merriment which a young man of seventeen will always think fair with a child of ten.

Edmund was uniformly kind; and she had nothing worse to endure on the part of Tom than that sort of merriment which a young man of seventeen will always think fair with a child of ten.


He was just entering into life, full of spirits, and with all the liberal dispositions of an eldest son, who feels born only for expense and enjoyment.

He was just entering into life, full of spirits, and with all the liberality of an eldest son, who feels born only for expense and enjoyment.


His kindness to his little cousin was consistent with his situation and rights: he made her some very pretty presents, and laughed at her.

His kindness to his little cousin was consistent with his situation: he made her some very pretty presents, and laughed at her.


As her appearance and spirits improved, Sir Thomas and Mrs. Norris thought with greater satisfaction of their benevolent plan; and it was pretty soon decided between them that, though far from clever, she showed a tractable disposition, and seemed likely to give them little trouble.

As her appearance and spirits improved, Sir Thomas and Mrs. Norris thought with greater satisfaction of their benevolent plan; and it was soon decided that, though far from clever, she was tractable, and seemed likely to give them little trouble.


A mean opinion of her abilities was not confined to _them_.

A poor opinion of Fanny's abilities was not confined to them.


Fanny could read, work, and write, but she had been taught nothing more; and as her cousins found her ignorant of many things with which they had been long familiar, they thought her prodigiously stupid, and for the first two or three weeks were continually bringing some fresh report of it into the drawing-room.

As her cousins found her ignorant of many things with which they had been long familiar, they thought her prodigiously stupid, and for the first two or three weeks were continually bringing some fresh report of it.


"Dear mama, only think, my cousin cannot put the map of Europe together-or my cousin cannot tell the principal rivers in Russia-or, she never heard of Asia Minor-or she does not know the difference between water-colours and crayons!-How strange!-Did you ever hear anything so stupid?"

"Dear mama, only think, my cousin cannot put the map of Europe together-or tell the principal rivers in Russia-she does not know the difference between water-colours and crayons!-Did you ever hear anything so stupid?"


"My dear," their considerate aunt would reply, "it is very bad, but you must not expect everybody to be as forward and quick at learning as yourself."

"My dear," their considerate aunt Norris would reply, "it is very bad, but you must not expect everybody to be as quick at learning as yourself."


"But, aunt, she is really so very ignorant!-Do you know, we asked her last night which way she would go to get to Ireland; and she said, she should cross to the Isle of Wight.


She thinks of nothing but the Isle of Wight, and she calls it _the_ _Island_, as if there were no other island in the world.

She calls it the Island, as if there were no other island in the world.


I am sure I should have been ashamed of myself, if I had not known better long before I was so old as she is.


I cannot remember the time when I did not know a great deal that she has not the least notion of yet.

I cannot remember the time when I did not know much more than her.


How long ago it is, aunt, since we used to repeat the chronological order of the kings of England, with the dates of their accession, and most of the principal events of their reigns!"

How long ago it is, aunt, since we used to repeat the order of the kings of England, with their dates!"


"Yes," added the other; "and of the Roman emperors as low as Severus; besides a great deal of the heathen mythology, and all the metals, semi-metals, planets, and distinguished philosophers."

"Yes," added the other; "and the Roman emperors, and all the metals, semi-metals, planets, and distinguished philosophers."


"Very true indeed, my dears, but you are blessed with wonderful memories, and your poor cousin has probably none at all.


There is a vast deal of difference in memories, as well as in everything else, and therefore you must make allowance for your cousin, and pity her deficiency.


And remember that, if you are ever so forward and clever yourselves, you should always be modest; for, much as you know already, there is a great deal more for you to learn."

And remember that you should always be modest; for there is a great deal more for you to learn."


"Yes, I know there is, till I am seventeen.


But I must tell you another thing of Fanny, so odd and so stupid.

But I must tell you another thing of Fanny, so stupid.


Do you know, she says she does not want to learn either music or drawing."

Do you know, she does not want to learn either music or drawing."


"To be sure, my dear, that is very stupid indeed, and shows a great want of genius and emulation.

"To be sure, my dear, that is very stupid indeed.


But, all things considered, I do not know whether it is not as well that it should be so, for, though you know (owing to me) your papa and mama are so good as to bring her up with you, it is not at all necessary that she should be as accomplished as you are;-on the contrary, it is much more desirable that there should be a difference."

But, all things considered, it is well that it should be so, for it is not necessary that she should be as accomplished as you are; it is much more desirable that there should be a difference."


Such were the counsels by which Mrs. Norris assisted to form her nieces' minds; and it is not very wonderful that, with all their promising talents and early information, they should be entirely deficient in the less common acquirements of self-knowledge, generosity and humility.

Such were the counsels by which Mrs. Norris formed her nieces' minds; and it is no wonder that, with all their promising talents, they should be entirely deficient in self-knowledge, generosity and humility.


In everything but disposition they were admirably taught.


Sir Thomas did not know what was wanting, because, though a truly anxious father, he was not outwardly affectionate, and the reserve of his manner repressed all the flow of their spirits before him.

Sir Thomas did not know what was wanting because, though a truly anxious father, the reserve of his manner repressed all the flow of their spirits before him.


To the education of her daughters Lady Bertram paid not the smallest attention.


She was a woman who spent her days in sitting, nicely dressed, on a sofa, doing some long piece of needlework, of little use and no beauty, thinking more of her pug than her children, but very indulgent to the latter when it did not put herself to inconvenience, guided in everything important by Sir Thomas, and in smaller concerns by her sister.

She was a woman who spent her days in sitting, nicely dressed, on a sofa, doing some long piece of needlework, of little use and no beauty, thinking more of her pug dog than her children, but indulgent to them when it did not cause her inconvenience, guided in everything important by Sir Thomas, and in smaller concerns by her sister.


Had she possessed greater leisure for the service of her girls, she would probably have supposed it unnecessary, for they were under the care of a governess, with proper masters, and could want nothing more.

Her girls were under the care of a governess, and could need nothing more.


As for Fanny's being stupid at learning, "she could only say it was very unlucky, but some people _were_ stupid, and Fanny must take more pains: she did not know what else was to be done; and, except her being so dull, she must add she saw no harm in the poor little thing, and always found her very handy and quick in carrying messages, and fetching what she wanted."

As for Fanny's being stupid at learning, "it was very unlucky, but some people were stupid, and she saw no harm in the poor little thing, and found her very handy in carrying messages, and fetching things."


Fanny, with all her faults of ignorance and timidity, was fixed at Mansfield Park, and learning to transfer in its favour much of her attachment to her former home, grew up there not unhappily among her cousins.

Fanny, with all her faults of ignorance and timidity, was fixed at Mansfield Park, and grew up there not unhappily among her cousins.


There was no positive ill-nature in Maria or Julia; and though Fanny was often mortified by their treatment of her, she thought too lowly of her own claims to feel injured by it.


From about the time of her entering the family, Lady Bertram, in consequence of a little ill-health, and a great deal of indolence, gave up the house in town, which she had been used to occupy every spring, and remained wholly in the country, leaving Sir Thomas to attend his duty in Parliament, with whatever increase or diminution of comfort might arise from her absence.

From about the time of her entering the family, Lady Bertram gave up the house in London, and remained wholly in the country, leaving Sir Thomas to attend his duty in Parliament without her.


In the country, therefore, the Miss Bertrams continued to exercise their memories, practise their duets, and grow tall and womanly: and their father saw them becoming in person, manner, and accomplishments, everything that could satisfy his anxiety.

In the country, therefore, the Miss Bertrams continued to grow tall and womanly; and their father saw them becoming in person, manner, and accomplishments, everything that he could wish.


His eldest son was careless and extravagant, and had already given him much uneasiness; but his other children promised him nothing but good.

His eldest son was careless and extravagant, and had already given him much uneasiness; but his other children promised nothing but good.


His daughters, he felt, while they retained the name of Bertram, must be giving it new grace, and in quitting it, he trusted, would extend its respectable alliances; and the character of Edmund, his strong good sense and uprightness of mind, bid most fairly for utility, honour, and happiness to himself and all his connexions.

His daughters, he trusted, would make respectable alliances; and the character of Edmund, his strong good sense and uprightness of mind, bid most fairly for utility, honour, and happiness.


Amid the cares and the complacency which his own children suggested, Sir Thomas did not forget to do what he could for the children of Mrs. Price: he assisted her liberally in the education and disposal of her sons as they became old enough for a determinate pursuit; and Fanny, though almost totally separated from her family, was sensible of the truest satisfaction in hearing of any kindness towards them, or of anything at all promising in their situation or conduct.

Sir Thomas did what he could for the children of Mrs. Price. He assisted her liberally in the education and careers of her sons; and Fanny had true satisfaction in hearing of any kindness towards them.


Once, and once only, in the course of many years, had she the happiness of being with William.

Only once, in those years, had she the happiness of being with William.


Of the rest she saw nothing: nobody seemed to think of her ever going amongst them again, even for a visit, nobody at home seemed to want her; but William determining, soon after her removal, to be a sailor, was invited to spend a week with his sister in Northamptonshire before he went to sea.

Of the rest she saw nothing: nobody seemed to think of her visiting them; but William, determining to be a sailor, was invited to spend a week with his sister before he went to sea.


Their eager affection in meeting, their exquisite delight in being together, their hours of happy mirth, and moments of serious conference, may be imagined; as well as the sanguine views and spirits of the boy even to the last, and the misery of the girl when he left her.

Their eager affection in meeting, their delight in being together, their hours of mirth, and moments of serious conference, may be imagined; as well as her misery when he left her.


Luckily the visit happened in the Christmas holidays, when she could directly look for comfort to her cousin Edmund; and he told her such charming things of what William was to do, and be hereafter, in consequence of his profession, as made her gradually admit that the separation might have some use.

Luckily the visit happened in the Christmas holidays, when she could look for comfort to her cousin Edmund.


Edmund's friendship never failed her: his leaving Eton for Oxford made no change in his kind dispositions, and only afforded more frequent opportunities of proving them.

Edmund's friendship never failed her: his leaving Eton for Oxford made no change in his kindness.


Without any display of doing more than the rest, or any fear of doing too much, he was always true to her interests, and considerate of her feelings, trying to make her good qualities understood, and to conquer the diffidence which prevented their being more apparent; giving her advice, consolation, and encouragement.

He was always considerate of her feelings, trying to make her good qualities understood, and giving her advice, consolation, and encouragement.


Kept back as she was by everybody else, his single support could not bring her forward; but his attentions were otherwise of the highest importance in assisting the improvement of her mind, and extending its pleasures.

Kept back as she was by everybody else, his support alone could not bring her forward; but his attentions were otherwise of the highest importance in improving her mind.


He knew her to be clever, to have a quick apprehension as well as good sense, and a fondness for reading, which, properly directed, must be an education in itself.

He knew her to be clever, and to have a fondness for reading.


Miss Lee taught her French, and heard her read the daily portion of history; but he recommended the books which charmed her leisure hours, he encouraged her taste, and corrected her judgment: he made reading useful by talking to her of what she read, and heightened its attraction by judicious praise.

Miss Lee taught her French, and heard her read the daily portion of history; but he recommended the books which charmed her leisure hours, he encouraged her taste, and corrected her judgment.


In return for such services she loved him better than anybody in the world except William: her heart was divided between the two.


At about the week's end from his return to Mansfield, Tom's immediate danger was over, and he was so far pronounced safe as to make his mother perfectly easy; for being now used to the sight of him in his suffering, helpless state, and hearing only the best, and never thinking beyond what she heard, with no disposition for alarm and no aptitude at a hint, Lady Bertram was the happiest subject in the world for a little medical imposition.

About a week after his return to Mansfield, Tom's immediate danger was over, and he was so far pronounced safe as to make his mother perfectly easy; for Lady Bertram was the happiest subject in the world for a little medical deceit.


The fever was subdued; the fever had been his complaint; of course he would soon be well again.

The fever was subdued; of course he would soon be well again.


Lady Bertram could think nothing less, and Fanny shared her aunt's security, till she received a few lines from Edmund, written purposely to give her a clearer idea of his brother's situation, and acquaint her with the apprehensions which he and his father had imbibed from the physician with respect to some strong hectic symptoms, which seemed to seize the frame on the departure of the fever.

Lady Bertram could think nothing less, and Fanny shared her aunt's security, till she received a few lines from Edmund, written to give her a clearer idea of his brother's situation, and acquaint her with the worries which he and his father had imbibed from the physician.


They judged it best that Lady Bertram should not be harassed by alarms which, it was to be hoped, would prove unfounded; but there was no reason why Fanny should not know the truth.


A very few lines from Edmund shewed her the patient and the sickroom in a juster and stronger light than all Lady Bertram's sheets of paper could do.

A very few lines from Edmund showed her the patient in a clearer light than all Lady Bertram's sheets of paper could do.


There was hardly any one in the house who might not have described, from personal observation, better than herself; not one who was not more useful at times to her son.


She could do nothing but glide in quietly and look at him; but when able to talk or be talked to, or read to, Edmund was the companion he preferred.


His aunt worried him by her cares, and Sir Thomas knew not how to bring down his conversation or his voice to the level of irritation and feebleness.

His aunt worried him by her cares, and Sir Thomas knew not how to bring down his conversation to the level of irritation and feebleness.


Fanny would certainly believe him so at least, and must find that her estimation of him was higher than ever when he appeared as the attendant, supporter, cheerer of a suffering brother.

Fanny certainly believed him so, and must find that she esteemed him more highly than ever when he appeared as the cheerer of a suffering brother.


There was not only the debility of recent illness to assist: there was also, as she now learnt, nerves much affected, spirits much depressed to calm and raise, and her own imagination added that there must be a mind to be properly guided.

As she now learnt, Tom's nerves were also much affected; there were spirits much depressed to calm and raise, and her own imagination added that there must be a mind to be properly guided.


The family were not consumptive, and she was more inclined to hope than fear for her cousin, except when she thought of Miss Crawford; but Miss Crawford gave her the idea of being the child of good luck, and to her selfishness and vanity it would be good luck to have Edmund the only son.

The family were not consumptive, and she was inclined to hope, except when she thought of Miss Crawford; but Miss Crawford seemed to be the child of good luck, and to her selfishness and vanity it would be good luck to have Edmund the only son.


Even in the sick chamber the fortunate Mary was not forgotten.

Even in the sick chamber Mary was not forgotten.


"On the subject of my last, I had actually begun a letter when called away by Tom's illness, but I have now changed my mind, and fear to trust the influence of friends.

"I had actually begun a letter to Miss Crawford when called away by Tom's illness, but I have now changed my mind, and fear the influence of her friends.


Such was the state of Mansfield, and so it continued, with scarcely any change, till Easter.

Such was the state of Mansfield, with scarcely any change, till Easter.


A line occasionally added by Edmund to his mother's letter was enough for Fanny's information.


Easter came particularly late this year, as Fanny had most sorrowfully considered, on first learning that she had no chance of leaving Portsmouth till after it.

Easter came late this year, as Fanny had most sorrowfully considered, on learning that she had no chance of leaving Portsmouth till after it.


It came, and she had yet heard nothing of her return-nothing even of the going to London, which was to precede her return.

It came, and she had still heard nothing of her return.


Her aunt often expressed a wish for her, but there was no notice, no message from the uncle on whom all depended.

Her aunt often expressed a wish for her, but there was no message from the uncle on whom all depended.


She supposed he could not yet leave his son, but it was a cruel, a terrible delay to her.

She supposed he could not yet leave his son, but it was a cruel delay.


The end of April was coming on; it would soon be almost three months, instead of two, that she had been absent from them all, and that her days had been passing in a state of penance, which she loved them too well to hope they would thoroughly understand; and who could yet say when there might be leisure to think of or fetch her?

The end of April was coming; it would soon be almost three months that she had been absent from them all; and who could say when there might be leisure to think of or to fetch her?


Her eagerness, her impatience, her longings to be with them, were such as to bring a line or two of Cowper's Tirocinium for ever before her.


"With what intense desire she wants her home," was continually on her tongue, as the truest description of a yearning which she could not suppose any schoolboy's bosom to feel more keenly.


When she had been coming to Portsmouth, she had loved to call it her home, had been fond of saying that she was going home; the word had been very dear to her, and so it still was, but it must be applied to Mansfield.

Before she came to Portsmouth, she had loved to call it her home; the word was still dear to her, but it must be applied to Mansfield.


Portsmouth was Portsmouth; Mansfield was home.


They had been long so arranged in the indulgence of her secret meditations, and nothing was more consolatory to her than to find her aunt using the same language: "I cannot but say I much regret your being from home at this distressing time, so very trying to my spirits.

Nothing was more consoling than to find her aunt using the same language: "I very much regret your being from home at this distressing time.


I trust and hope, and sincerely wish you may never be absent from home so long again," were most delightful sentences to her.

I sincerely wish you may never be absent from home so long again," were most delightful sentences to her.


Still, however, it was her private regale.


Delicacy to her parents made her careful not to betray such a preference of her uncle's house.

delicacy to her parents made Fanny careful not to betray such a preference of her uncle's house.


It was always: "When I go back into Northamptonshire, or when I return to Mansfield, I shall do so and so."

It was always: "When I return to Mansfield."


For a great while it was so, but at last the longing grew stronger, it overthrew caution, and she found herself talking of what she should do when she went home before she was aware.

But at last the longing grew stronger, it overthrew caution, and she found herself talking of what she should do when she went home.


She reproached herself, coloured, and looked fearfully towards her father and mother.

She coloured, and looked fearfully towards her father and mother.


There was no sign of displeasure, or even of hearing her.


They were perfectly free from any jealousy of Mansfield.


She was as welcome to wish herself there as to be there.


It was sad to Fanny to lose all the pleasures of spring.

Fanny was sad to lose the pleasures of spring


She had not known before what pleasures she _had_ to lose in passing March and April in a town.


She had not known before how much the beginnings and progress of vegetation had delighted her.


What animation, both of body and mind, she had derived from watching the advance of that season which cannot, in spite of its capriciousness, be unlovely, and seeing its increasing beauties from the earliest flowers in the warmest divisions of her aunt's garden, to the opening of leaves of her uncle's plantations, and the glory of his woods.

: what enjoyment she had derived from watching the increasing beauties of that season, from the earliest flowers in her aunt's garden, to the opening of leaves in her uncle's plantations, and the glory of his woods.


To be losing such pleasures was no trifle; to be losing them, because she was in the midst of closeness and noise, to have confinement, bad air, bad smells, substituted for liberty, freshness, fragrance, and verdure, was infinitely worse: but even these incitements to regret were feeble, compared with what arose from the conviction of being missed by her best friends, and the longing to be useful to those who were wanting her!

To lose such pleasures was no trifle; to have confinement, bad air, bad smells, substituted for liberty, freshness, and verdure, was infinitely worse: but worst of all was the conviction of being missed by her best friends, and the longing to be useful to those who needed her!


Could she have been at home, she might have been of service to every creature in the house.

At home, she might have been of use to every creature in the house.


She felt that she must have been of use to all.


To all she must have saved some trouble of head or hand; and were it only in supporting the spirits of her aunt Bertram, keeping her from the evil of solitude, or the still greater evil of a restless, officious companion, too apt to be heightening danger in order to enhance her own importance, her being there would have been a general good.

To all she must have saved some trouble; and were it only in supporting the spirits of her aunt Bertram, keeping her from the evil of solitude, or the greater evil of a restless, officious sister, too apt to heighten danger in order to enhance her own importance, Fanny's being there would have been a general good.


She loved to fancy how she could have read to her aunt, how she could have talked to her, and tried at once to make her feel the blessing of what was, and prepare her mind for what might be; and how many walks up and down stairs she might have saved her, and how many messages she might have carried.

She loved to fancy how she could have read to her aunt, and talked to her, and tried to make her feel the blessing of what was, and prepare her mind for what might be; and how many walks up and down stairs she might have saved her, and how many messages she might have carried.


It astonished her that Tom's sisters could be satisfied with remaining in London at such a time, through an illness which had now, under different degrees of danger, lasted several weeks.

It astonished her that Tom's sisters could be satisfied with remaining in London, through an illness which had now lasted several weeks.


_They_ might return to Mansfield when they chose; travelling could be no difficulty to _them_, and she could not comprehend how both could still keep away.

They might return to Mansfield when they chose; travelling could be no difficulty to them.


If Mrs. Rushworth could imagine any interfering obligations, Julia was certainly able to quit London whenever she chose.

Even if Mrs. Rushworth could imagine any interfering obligations, Julia was certainly able to quit London whenever she chose.


It appeared from one of her aunt's letters that Julia had offered to return if wanted, but this was all.


It was evident that she would rather remain where she was.


Fanny was disposed to think the influence of London very much at war with all respectable attachments.

Fanny thought the influence of London was at war with all respectable attachments.


She saw the proof of it in Miss Crawford, as well as in her cousins; _her_ attachment to Edmund had been respectable, the most respectable part of her character; her friendship for herself had at least been blameless.

As well as her cousins, she saw proof of it in Miss Crawford.


It was so long since Fanny had had any letter from her, that she had some reason to think lightly of the friendship which had been so dwelt on.

It was so long since Fanny had had any letter from her, that she had reason to think lightly of the friendship which had been so dwelt on.


It was weeks since she had heard anything of Miss Crawford or of her other connexions in town, except through Mansfield, and she was beginning to suppose that she might never know whether Mr. Crawford had gone into Norfolk again or not till they met, and might never hear from his sister any more this spring, when the following letter was received to revive old and create some new sensations-

It was weeks since she had heard anything of Miss Crawford or of her other connexions in town, except through Mansfield, and she was beginning to suppose that she might never hear from her any more this spring, when the following letter was received to revive old and create some new sensations-


"Forgive me, my dear Fanny, as soon as you can, for my long silence, and behave as if you could forgive me directly.

"Forgive me, my dear Fanny, as soon as you can, for my long silence.


This is my modest request and expectation, for you are so good, that I depend upon being treated better than I deserve, and I write now to beg an immediate answer.

You are so good, that I depend upon being treated better than I deserve, and I write now to beg an immediate answer.


I want to know the state of things at Mansfield Park, and you, no doubt, are perfectly able to give it.

I want to know the state of things at Mansfield Park.


One should be a brute not to feel for the distress they are in; and from what I hear, poor Mr. Bertram has a bad chance of ultimate recovery.

One should be a brute not to feel for their distress; and from what I hear, poor Mr. Bertram has a bad chance of recovery.


I thought little of his illness at first.


I looked upon him as the sort of person to be made a fuss with, and to make a fuss himself in any trifling disorder, and was chiefly concerned for those who had to nurse him; but now it is confidently asserted that he is really in a decline, that the symptoms are most alarming, and that part of the family, at least, are aware of it.

I looked upon him as the sort of person to make a fuss in any trifling disorder, and was chiefly concerned for those who had to nurse him; but now it seems that he is really in a decline, that the symptoms are most alarming, and that part of the family, at least, are aware of it.


If it be so, I am sure you must be included in that part, that discerning part, and therefore entreat you to let me know how far I have been rightly informed.

I am sure you must be included in that part, and therefore entreat you to let me know how far I have been rightly informed.


I need not say how rejoiced I shall be to hear there has been any mistake, but the report is so prevalent that I confess I cannot help trembling.

I shall be rejoiced to hear there has been any mistake, but the report is so prevalent that I confess I cannot help trembling.


To have such a fine young man cut off in the flower of his days is most melancholy.


Poor Sir Thomas will feel it dreadfully.


I really am quite agitated on the subject.


Fanny, Fanny, I see you smile and look cunning, but, upon my honour, I never bribed a physician in my life.


If he is to die, there will be _two_ poor young men less in the world; and with a fearless face and bold voice would I say to any one, that wealth and consequence could fall into no hands more deserving of them.

If he is to die, there will be two poor young men less in the world; and with a bold voice I would say that wealth and consequence could fall into no hands more deserving of them.


It was a foolish precipitation last Christmas, but the evil of a few days may be blotted out in part.

It was a foolish haste last Christmas, but the evil of a few days may be blotted out in part.


It will be but the loss of the Esquire after his name.


With real affection, Fanny, like mine, more might be overlooked.

With real affection, Fanny, more might be overlooked.


Write to me by return of post, judge of my anxiety, and do not trifle with it.


Tell me the real truth, as you have it from the fountainhead.


And now, do not trouble yourself to be ashamed of either my feelings or your own.

And do not be ashamed of either my feelings or your own.


Believe me, they are not only natural, they are philanthropic and virtuous.


I put it to your conscience, whether 'Sir Edmund' would not do more good with all the Bertram property than any other possible 'Sir.'


Had the Grants been at home I would not have troubled you, but you are now the only one I can apply to for the truth, his sisters not being within my reach.

You are now the only one I can apply to for the truth, his sisters not being within my reach.


Mrs. R. has been spending the Easter with the Aylmers at Twickenham (as to be sure you know), and is not yet returned; and Julia is with the cousins who live near Bedford Square, but I forget their name and street.

Mrs. R. has been spending the Easter with the Aylmers at Twickenham, and is not yet returned; and Julia is with the cousins who live near Bedford Square.


Could I immediately apply to either, however, I should still prefer you, because it strikes me that they have all along been so unwilling to have their own amusements cut up, as to shut their eyes to the truth.

Could I apply to either, however, I should still prefer you, because they have been so unwilling to have their amusements cut up, as to shut their eyes to the truth.


I suppose Mrs. R.'s Easter holidays will not last much longer; no doubt they are thorough holidays to her.


The Aylmers are pleasant people; and her husband away, she can have nothing but enjoyment.

with her husband away, she can have nothing but enjoyment.


I give her credit for promoting his going dutifully down to Bath, to fetch his mother; but how will she and the dowager agree in one house?

I give her credit for encouraging him to go dutifully down to Bath, to fetch his mother; but how will she and the dowager agree in one house?


Henry is not at hand, so I have nothing to say from him.


Do not you think Edmund would have been in town again long ago, but for this illness?-Yours ever, Mary."


"I had actually begun folding my letter when Henry walked in, but he brings no intelligence to prevent my sending it.

"I had actually begun folding my letter when Henry walked in, but he brings no news to prevent my sending it.


Mrs. R. knows a decline is apprehended; he saw her this morning: she returns to Wimpole Street to-day; the old lady is come.

Mrs. R. knows a decline is feared; he saw her this morning: she returns to Wimpole Street to-day; the old lady, Mr. Rushworth's mother, is come.


Now do not make yourself uneasy with any queer fancies because he has been spending a few days at Richmond.

Now do not make yourself uneasy with any queer fancies because Henry has been spending a few days near Twickenham.


At this very moment he is wild to see you, and occupied only in contriving the means for doing so, and for making his pleasure conduce to yours.

At this very moment he is wild to see you, and occupied only in contriving the means for doing so.


In proof, he repeats, and more eagerly, what he said at Portsmouth about our conveying you home, and I join him in it with all my soul.

He repeats, more eagerly, what he said at Portsmouth about our conveying you home, and I join him in it with all my soul.


Dear Fanny, write directly, and tell us to come.


He and I can go to the Parsonage, you know, and be no trouble to our friends at Mansfield Park.


It would really be gratifying to see them all again, and a little addition of society might be of infinite use to them; and as to yourself, you must feel yourself to be so wanted there, that you cannot in conscience-conscientious as you are-keep away, when you have the means of returning.

It would really be gratifying to see them all again, and a little addition of society might benefit them; and as to yourself, you must feel yourself so wanted there, that you cannot in conscience keep away, when you have the means of returning.


I have not time or patience to give half Henry's messages; be satisfied that the spirit of each and every one is unalterable affection."

I have not time to give half Henry's messages; be satisfied that the spirit of each one is unalterable affection."


Fanny's disgust at the greater part of this letter, with her extreme reluctance to bring the writer of it and her cousin Edmund together, would have made her (as she felt) incapable of judging impartially whether the concluding offer might be accepted or not.

Fanny's disgust at the greater part of this letter, with her extreme reluctance to bring the writer of it and her cousin Edmund together, would have made her incapable of judging impartially whether the concluding offer should be accepted or not.


To herself, individually, it was most tempting.


To be finding herself, perhaps within three days, transported to Mansfield, was an image of the greatest felicity, but it would have been a material drawback to be owing such felicity to persons in whose feelings and conduct, at the present moment, she saw so much to condemn: the sister's feelings, the brother's conduct, _her_ cold-hearted ambition, _his_ thoughtless vanity.

To find herself transported to Mansfield was an image of the greatest happiness, but it would be a drawback to owe such felicity to persons in whose feelings and conduct she saw so much to condemn: the sister's feelings, the brother's conduct, her cold-hearted ambition, his thoughtless vanity.


To have him still the acquaintance, the flirt perhaps, of Mrs. Rushworth!


Happily, however, she was not left to weigh and decide between opposite inclinations and doubtful notions of right; there was no occasion to determine whether she ought to keep Edmund and Mary asunder or not.

Happily, however, she was not left to weigh between doubtful notions of right.


She had a rule to apply to, which settled everything.


Her awe of her uncle, and her dread of taking a liberty with him, made it instantly plain to her what she had to do.

Her awe of her uncle, and her dread of taking a liberty with him, made it plain to her what she had to do.


She must absolutely decline the proposal.


If he wanted, he would send for her; and even to offer an early return was a presumption which hardly anything would have seemed to justify.

If he wanted, he would send for her; and to offer an early return was a presumption.


She thanked Miss Crawford, but gave a decided negative.

She thanked Miss Crawford, but gave a decided no.


"Her uncle, she understood, meant to fetch her; and as her cousin's illness had continued so many weeks without her being thought at all necessary, she must suppose her return would be unwelcome at present, and that she should be felt an encumbrance."

"Her uncle, she understood, meant to fetch her; and as her cousin's illness had continued so many weeks without her being thought necessary, she must suppose her return would be unwelcome at present, and that she should be felt an encumbrance."


Her representation of her cousin's state at this time was exactly according to her own belief of it, and such as she supposed would convey to the sanguine mind of her correspondent the hope of everything she was wishing for.

Her representation of her cousin's state was according to her own belief of it, and such as she supposed would give Miss Crawford the hope of everything she was wishing for.


Edmund would be forgiven for being a clergyman, it seemed, under certain conditions of wealth; and this, she suspected, was all the conquest of prejudice which he was so ready to congratulate himself upon.


She had only learnt to think nothing of consequence but money.


Fanny's rides recommenced the very next day; and as it was a pleasant fresh-feeling morning, less hot than the weather had lately been, Edmund trusted that her losses, both of health and pleasure, would be soon made good.

Fanny's rides recommenced the very next day; and as it was cooler, Edmund trusted that her loss of health would be soon made good.


While she was gone Mr. Rushworth arrived, escorting his mother, who came to be civil and to shew her civility especially, in urging the execution of the plan for visiting Sotherton, which had been started a fortnight before, and which, in consequence of her subsequent absence from home, had since lain dormant.

While she was gone Mr. Rushworth arrived, escorting his mother, who came to urge them to visit Sotherton, as planned.


Mrs. Norris and her nieces were all well pleased with its revival, and an early day was named and agreed to, provided Mr. Crawford should be disengaged: the young ladies did not forget that stipulation, and though Mrs. Norris would willingly have answered for his being so, they would neither authorise the liberty nor run the risk; and at last, on a hint from Miss Bertram, Mr. Rushworth discovered that the properest thing to be done was for him to walk down to the Parsonage directly, and call on Mr. Crawford, and inquire whether Wednesday would suit him or not.

Mrs. Norris and her nieces were well pleased, and an early day was agreed, provided Mr. Crawford should be free: and on a hint from Miss Bertram, Mr. Rushworth decided to walk down to the Parsonage directly, and call on Mr. Crawford, and inquire whether Wednesday would suit him.


Before his return Mrs. Grant and Miss Crawford came in.


Having been out some time, and taken a different route to the house, they had not met him.

Having taken a different route to the house, they had not met him


Comfortable hopes, however, were given that he would find Mr. Crawford at home.

; but they hoped that he would find Mr. Crawford at home.


The Sotherton scheme was mentioned of course.


It was hardly possible, indeed, that anything else should be talked of, for Mrs. Norris was in high spirits about it; and Mrs. Rushworth, a well-meaning, civil, prosing, pompous woman, who thought nothing of consequence, but as it related to her own and her son's concerns, had not yet given over pressing Lady Bertram to be of the party.

Mrs. Norris was in high spirits about it; and Mrs. Rushworth, a well-meaning, civil, prosing, pompous woman, was still pressing Lady Bertram to join the group.


Lady Bertram constantly declined it; but her placid manner of refusal made Mrs. Rushworth still think she wished to come, till Mrs. Norris's more numerous words and louder tone convinced her of the truth.

Lady Bertram constantly declined; but her placid manner of refusal made Mrs. Rushworth still think she wished to come, till Mrs. Norris convinced her of the truth.


"The fatigue would be too much for my sister, a great deal too much, I assure you, my dear Mrs. Rushworth.

"The fatigue would be too much for my sister, my dear Mrs. Rushworth.


Ten miles there, and ten back, you know.


You must excuse my sister on this occasion, and accept of our two dear girls and myself without her.

You must accept our two dear girls and myself without her.


Sotherton is the only place that could give her a _wish_ to go so far, but it cannot be, indeed.


She will have a companion in Fanny Price, you know, so it will all do very well; and as for Edmund, as he is not here to speak for himself, I will answer for his being most happy to join the party.

She will have a companion in Fanny Price; and as for Edmund, I will answer for his being most happy to join the party.


Mrs. Rushworth being obliged to yield to Lady Bertram's staying at home, could only be sorry.


"The loss of her ladyship's company would be a great drawback, and she should have been extremely happy to have seen the young lady too, Miss Price, who had never been at Sotherton yet, and it was a pity she should not see the place."

"She should have been extremely happy to have seen her Ladyship, and Miss Price, who had never been at Sotherton yet."


"You are very kind, you are all kindness, my dear madam," cried Mrs. Norris; "but as to Fanny, she will have opportunities in plenty of seeing Sotherton.

"You are all kindness, my dear madam," cried Mrs. Norris; "but Fanny will have opportunities in plenty of seeing Sotherton.


She has time enough before her; and her going now is quite out of the question.


Lady Bertram could not possibly spare her."


Mrs. Rushworth proceeded next, under the conviction that everybody must be wanting to see Sotherton, to include Miss Crawford in the invitation; and though Mrs. Grant, who had not been at the trouble of visiting Mrs. Rushworth, on her coming into the neighbourhood, civilly declined it on her own account, she was glad to secure any pleasure for her sister; and Mary, properly pressed and persuaded, was not long in accepting her share of the civility.

Mrs. Rushworth proceeded next to invite Miss Crawford; and Mary was swift to accept.


Mr. Rushworth came back from the Parsonage successful; and Edmund made his appearance just in time to learn what had been settled for Wednesday, to attend Mrs. Rushworth to her carriage, and walk half-way down the park with the two other ladies.


On his return to the breakfast-room, he found Mrs. Norris trying to make up her mind as to whether Miss Crawford's being of the party were desirable or not, or whether her brother's barouche would not be full without her.

On his return to the breakfast-room, he found Mrs. Norris trying to decide whether Miss Crawford's being of the party were desirable, or whether her brother's barouche would not be full without her.


The Miss Bertrams laughed at the idea, assuring her that the barouche would hold four perfectly well, independent of the box, on which _one_ might go with him.

The Miss Bertrams laughed, assuring her that the barouche would hold four perfectly well, independent of the box, on which one might go with him.


"But why is it necessary," said Edmund, "that Crawford's carriage, or his _only_, should be employed?

"But why should only Crawford's carriage be employed?" said Edmund.


"Why is no use to be made of my mother's chaise?"


I could not, when the scheme was first mentioned the other day, understand why a visit from the family were not to be made in the carriage of the family."


cried Julia: "go boxed up three in a postchaise in this weather, when we may have seats in a barouche!

cried Julia: "go boxed up in a postchaise in this weather, when we may have seats in a barouche!"


No, my dear Edmund, that will not quite do."


"Besides," said Maria, "I know that Mr. Crawford depends upon taking us."


After what passed at first, he would claim it as a promise."


"And, my dear Edmund," added Mrs. Norris, "taking out _two_ carriages when _one_ will do, would be trouble for nothing; and, between ourselves, coachman is not very fond of the roads between this and Sotherton: he always complains bitterly of the narrow lanes scratching his carriage, and you know one should not like to have dear Sir Thomas, when he comes home, find all the varnish scratched off."

"And, my dear Edmund," added Mrs. Norris, "to take two carriages when one will do, would be trouble for nothing; and coachman always complains of the narrow lanes to Sotherton scratching his carriage, and one should not like to have dear Sir Thomas, when he comes home, find all the varnish scratched off."


"That would not be a very handsome reason for using Mr. Crawford's," said Maria; "but the truth is, that Wilcox is a stupid old fellow, and does not know how to drive.


I will answer for it that we shall find no inconvenience from narrow roads on Wednesday."


"There is no hardship, I suppose, nothing unpleasant," said Edmund, "in going on the barouche box."

"There will be nothing unpleasant, I suppose," said Edmund, "in going on the barouche box."


I believe it would be generally thought the favourite seat.

It would be generally thought the favourite seat


There can be no comparison as to one's view of the country.


Probably Miss Crawford will choose the barouche-box herself."


"There can be no objection, then, to Fanny's going with you; there can be no doubt of your having room for her."

"There can be no objection, then, to Fanny's going with you; there can be no doubt of your having room."


repeated Mrs. Norris; "my dear Edmund, there is no idea of her going with us.


"You can have no reason, I imagine, madam," said he, addressing his mother, "for wishing Fanny _not_ to be of the party, but as it relates to yourself, to your own comfort.


If you could do without her, you would not wish to keep her at home?"

"If you could do without her, madam," said he, addressing his mother, "you would not wish to keep her at home?"


"To be sure not, but I _cannot_ do without her."

"To be sure not, but I cannot do without her."


"You can, if I stay at home with you, as I mean to do."


"Yes," he continued, "there is no necessity for my going, and I mean to stay at home.

"Yes," he continued, "there is no necessity for my going.


Fanny has a great desire to see Sotherton.


She has not often a gratification of the kind, and I am sure, ma'am, you would be glad to give her the pleasure now?"


very glad, if your aunt sees no objection."


Mrs. Norris was very ready with the only objection which could remain-their having positively assured Mrs. Rushworth that Fanny could not go, and the very strange appearance there would consequently be in taking her, which seemed to her a difficulty quite impossible to be got over.

Mrs. Norris was very ready with her objection-their having positively assured Mrs. Rushworth that Fanny could not go, and the very strange appearance there would be in taking her, which seemed to her a difficulty quite impossible to be got over.


It would be something so very unceremonious, so bordering on disrespect for Mrs. Rushworth, whose own manners were such a pattern of good-breeding and attention, that she really did not feel equal to it.

It would show such disrespect for Mrs. Rushworth, that she really did not feel equal to it.


Mrs. Norris had no affection for Fanny, and no wish of procuring her pleasure at any time; but her opposition to Edmund _now_, arose more from partiality for her own scheme, because it _was_ her own, than from anything else.

Her opposition to Edmund arose more from partiality for her own scheme, because it was her own, than from anything else.


She felt that she had arranged everything extremely well, and that any alteration must be for the worse.


When Edmund, therefore, told her in reply, as he did when she would give him the hearing, that she need not distress herself on Mrs. Rushworth's account, because he had taken the opportunity, as he walked with her through the hall, of mentioning Miss Price as one who would probably be of the party, and had directly received a very sufficient invitation for his cousin, Mrs. Norris was too much vexed to submit with a very good grace, and would only say, "Very well, very well, just as you chuse, settle it your own way, I am sure I do not care about it."

When Edmund, therefore, told her that he had mentioned Miss Price to Mrs Rushworth, and had received an invitation for her, Mrs. Norris was too much vexed to submit with grace, and would only say, "Very well, settle it your own way."


"It seems very odd," said Maria, "that you should be staying at home instead of Fanny."


"I am sure she ought to be very much obliged to you," added Julia, hastily leaving the room as she spoke, from a consciousness that she ought to offer to stay at home herself.

"I am sure she ought to be very much obliged to you," added Julia, conscious that she ought to offer to stay at home herself.


"Fanny will feel quite as grateful as the occasion requires," was Edmund's only reply, and the subject dropt.

"Fanny will feel quite as grateful as the occasion requires," was Edmund's only reply.


Fanny's gratitude, when she heard the plan, was, in fact, much greater than her pleasure.


She felt Edmund's kindness with all, and more than all, the sensibility which he, unsuspicious of her fond attachment, could be aware of; but that he should forego any enjoyment on her account gave her pain, and her own satisfaction in seeing Sotherton would be nothing without him.

She felt Edmund's kindness more than he, unsuspicious of her fond attachment, could be aware of; but that he should forego any enjoyment gave her pain, and her own satisfaction in seeing Sotherton would be nothing without him.


The next meeting of the two Mansfield families produced another alteration in the plan, and one that was admitted with general approbation.

The next meeting of the Mansfield families produced another alteration in the plan.


Mrs. Grant offered herself as companion for the day to Lady Bertram in lieu of her son, and Dr. Grant was to join them at dinner.

Mrs. Grant offered herself as companion for the day to Lady Bertram.


Lady Bertram was very well pleased to have it so, and the young ladies were in spirits again.


Even Edmund was very thankful for an arrangement which restored him to his share of the party; and Mrs. Norris thought it an excellent plan, and had it at her tongue's end, and was on the point of proposing it, when Mrs. Grant spoke.

even Edmund was thankful for an arrangement which restored him to the party; while Mrs. Norris thought it an excellent plan, and had been on the point of proposing it herself.


Wednesday was fine, and soon after breakfast the barouche arrived, Mr. Crawford driving his sisters; and as everybody was ready, there was nothing to be done but for Mrs. Grant to alight and the others to take their places.

Wednesday was fine, and soon after breakfast the barouche arrived, Mr. Crawford driving his sisters. When Mrs Grant alighted, everybody was ready to take their places.


The place of all places, the envied seat, the post of honour, was unappropriated.

The place of all places, the envied seat, was vacant.


While each of the Miss Bertrams were meditating how best, and with the most appearance of obliging the others, to secure it, the matter was settled by Mrs. Grant's saying, as she stepped from the carriage, "As there are five of you, it will be better that one should sit with Henry; and as you were saying lately that you wished you could drive, Julia, I think this will be a good opportunity for you to take a lesson."

While each of the Miss Bertrams were meditating how to secure it, the matter was settled by Mrs. Grant's saying, "One of you should sit with Henry; and as you were saying lately that you wished you could drive, Julia, this will be a good opportunity for you to take a lesson."


The former was on the barouche-box in a moment, the latter took her seat within, in gloom and mortification; and the carriage drove off amid the good wishes of the two remaining ladies, and the barking of Pug in his mistress's arms.

The former was on the barouche-box in a moment, the latter took her seat within, in gloom and mortification; and the carriage drove off.


Their road was through a pleasant country; and Fanny, whose rides had never been extensive, was soon beyond her knowledge, and was very happy in observing all that was new, and admiring all that was pretty.

Their road was through a pleasant country; and Fanny, whose rides had never been extensive, was very happy in observing all that was new and pretty.


She was not often invited to join in the conversation of the others, nor did she desire it.

She was not often invited to join in the conversation, nor did she desire it.


Her own thoughts and reflections were habitually her best companions; and, in observing the appearance of the country, the bearings of the roads, the difference of soil, the state of the harvest, the cottages, the cattle, the children, she found entertainment that could only have been heightened by having Edmund to speak to of what she felt.

Her own thoughts were habitually her best companions; and, in observing the appearance of the country, the state of the harvest, the cottages, the cattle and the children, she found entertainment that could only have been heightened by having Edmund to discuss it with.


That was the only point of resemblance between her and the lady who sat by her: in everything but a value for Edmund, Miss Crawford was very unlike her.


She had none of Fanny's delicacy of taste, of mind, of feeling; she saw Nature, inanimate Nature, with little observation; her attention was all for men and women, her talents for the light and lively.

She had none of Fanny's delicacy of feeling; she saw Nature with little observation; her attention was all for men and women, her talents for the light and lively.


In looking back after Edmund, however, when there was any stretch of road behind them, or when he gained on them in ascending a considerable hill, they were united, and a "there he is" broke at the same moment from them both, more than once.

In looking back after Edmund, however, when there was any stretch of road behind them, they were united, and a "there he is" broke at the same moment from them both.


For the first seven miles Miss Bertram had very little real comfort: her prospect always ended in Mr. Crawford and her sister sitting side by side, full of conversation and merriment; and to see only his expressive profile as he turned with a smile to Julia, or to catch the laugh of the other, was a perpetual source of irritation, which her own sense of propriety could but just smooth over.

For the first seven miles Miss Bertram had very little comfort: her prospect always ended in Mr. Crawford and her sister sitting side by side, full of conversation and merriment; a perpetual source of irritation, which her sense of propriety could only just smooth over.


When Julia looked back, it was with a countenance of delight, and whenever she spoke to them, it was in the highest spirits: "her view of the country was charming, she wished they could all see it," etc.; but her only offer of exchange was addressed to Miss Crawford, as they gained the summit of a long hill, and was not more inviting than this: "Here is a fine burst of country.

Julia looked back, smiling, and spoke in the highest spirits: "her view of the country was charming, she wished they could all see it," etc.; but her only offer of exchange was addressed to Miss Crawford: "I wish you had my seat, but I dare say you will not take it, let me press you ever so much."


I wish you had my seat, but I dare say you will not take it, let me press you ever so much;" and Miss Crawford could hardly answer before they were moving again at a good pace.

Miss Crawford could hardly answer before they were moving again.


When they came within the influence of Sotherton associations, it was better for Miss Bertram, who might be said to have two strings to her bow.

When they came nearer to Sotherton, it was better for Miss Bertram, who might be said to have two strings to her bow.


She had Rushworth feelings, and Crawford feelings, and in the vicinity of Sotherton the former had considerable effect.


She could not tell Miss Crawford that "those woods belonged to Sotherton," she could not carelessly observe that "she believed that it was now all Mr. Rushworth's property on each side of the road," without elation of heart; and it was a pleasure to increase with their approach to the capital freehold mansion, and ancient manorial residence of the family, with all its rights of court-leet and court-baron.

She could not tell Miss Crawford that "those woods belonged to Sotherton," she could not carelessly observe that "she believed that it was now all Mr. Rushworth's property on each side of the road," without elation of heart; and it was a pleasure to increase with their approach to the mansion.


"Now we shall have no more rough road, Miss Crawford; our difficulties are over.


The rest of the way is such as it ought to be.

the rest of the way is as it ought to be.


Mr. Rushworth has made it since he succeeded to the estate.

Mr. Rushworth has improved it since he succeeded to the estate.


The church spire is reckoned remarkably handsome.


I am glad the church is not so close to the great house as often happens in old places.


The annoyance of the bells must be terrible.


There is the parsonage: a tidy-looking house, and I understand the clergyman and his wife are very decent people.


Those are almshouses, built by some of the family.


To the right is the steward's house; he is a very respectable man.


Now we are coming to the lodge-gates; but we have nearly a mile through the park still.


It is not ugly, you see, at this end; there is some fine timber, but the situation of the house is dreadful.

There is some fine timber, but the situation of the house is dreadful.


We go down hill to it for half a mile, and it is a pity, for it would not be an ill-looking place if it had a better approach."

We go down hill to it for half a mile; it would not be an ill-looking place if it had a better approach."


Miss Crawford was not slow to admire; she pretty well guessed Miss Bertram's feelings, and made it a point of honour to promote her enjoyment to the utmost.

Miss Crawford was not slow to admire; she guessed Miss Bertram's feelings, and made it a point of honour to promote her enjoyment to the utmost.


Mrs. Norris was all delight and volubility; and even Fanny had something to say in admiration, and might be heard with complacency.

Mrs. Norris was all delight; and even Fanny had something to say in admiration.


Her eye was eagerly taking in everything within her reach; and after being at some pains to get a view of the house, and observing that "it was a sort of building which she could not look at but with respect," she added, "Now, where is the avenue?

Her eye was eagerly taking in everything; and she asked, "Where is the avenue?


The avenue, therefore, must be at the back of it.


Mr. Rushworth talked of the west front."


"Yes, it is exactly behind the house; begins at a little distance, and ascends for half a mile to the extremity of the grounds.

"Yes, it is behind the house, and ascends for half a mile.


You may see something of it here-something of the more distant trees.


Miss Bertram could now speak with decided information of what she had known nothing about when Mr. Rushworth had asked her opinion; and her spirits were in as happy a flutter as vanity and pride could furnish, when they drove up to the spacious stone steps before the principal entrance.

Miss Bertram could now speak with decided information of what she had known nothing about when Mr. Rushworth had asked her opinion; and her spirits were in as happy a flutter as pride could furnish, when they drove up to the spacious stone steps before the principal entrance.


The novelty of travelling, and the happiness of being with William, soon produced their natural effect on Fanny's spirits, when Mansfield Park was fairly left behind; and by the time their first stage was ended, and they were to quit Sir Thomas's carriage, she was able to take leave of the old coachman, and send back proper messages, with cheerful looks.

The novelty of travelling, and the happiness of being with William, soon raised Fanny's spirits; and by the time their first stage was ended, and they quit Sir Thomas's carriage, she was able to take leave of the old coachman, and send back proper messages, with cheerful looks.


Of pleasant talk between the brother and sister there was no end.


Everything supplied an amusement to the high glee of William's mind, and he was full of frolic and joke in the intervals of their higher-toned subjects, all of which ended, if they did not begin, in praise of the Thrush, conjectures how she would be employed, schemes for an action with some superior force, which (supposing the first lieutenant out of the way, and William was not very merciful to the first lieutenant) was to give himself the next step as soon as possible, or speculations upon prize-money, which was to be generously distributed at home, with only the reservation of enough to make the little cottage comfortable, in which he and Fanny were to pass all their middle and later life together.

Everything supplied amusement to the high glee of William's mind, and he was full of frolic and joke. All his talk ended in praise of the Thrush, schemes for battle, or speculations upon prize-money, which was to be generously distributed at home, keeping back only enough to make the little cottage comfortable, in which he and Fanny were to pass their later life together.


Fanny's immediate concerns, as far as they involved Mr. Crawford, made no part of their conversation.

Fanny's immediate concerns involving Mr. Crawford made no part of their conversation.


William knew what had passed, and from his heart lamented that his sister's feelings should be so cold towards a man whom he must consider as the first of human characters; but he was of an age to be all for love, and therefore unable to blame; and knowing her wish on the subject, he would not distress her by the slightest allusion.

William knew what had passed, and lamented that his sister's feelings should be so cold towards a man whom he must consider as the first of human characters; but knowing her wish on the subject, he would not distress her by the slightest allusion to it.


She had reason to suppose herself not yet forgotten by Mr. Crawford.

She knew herself to be not yet forgotten by Mr. Crawford.


She had heard repeatedly from his sister within the three weeks which had passed since their leaving Mansfield, and in each letter there had been a few lines from himself, warm and determined like his speeches.

She had heard repeatedly from his sister since their leaving Mansfield, and in each letter there had been a few lines from himself, warm and determined like his speeches.


It was a correspondence which Fanny found quite as unpleasant as she had feared.


Miss Crawford's style of writing, lively and affectionate, was itself an evil, independent of what she was thus forced into reading from the brother's pen, for Edmund would never rest till she had read the chief of the letter to him; and then she had to listen to his admiration of her language, and the warmth of her attachments.

Miss Crawford's lively style of writing was itself an evil, for Edmund would never rest till she had read the letter to him; and then she had to listen to his admiration of her language and her warm attachments.


There had, in fact, been so much of message, of allusion, of recollection, so much of Mansfield in every letter, that Fanny could not but suppose it meant for him to hear; and to find herself forced into a purpose of that kind, compelled into a correspondence which was bringing her the addresses of the man she did not love, and obliging her to administer to the adverse passion of the man she did, was cruelly mortifying.

There was, in fact, so much of message and allusion in every letter, that Fanny could only suppose it was meant for him to hear; and to find herself compelled into a correspondence which was bringing her the addresses of the man she did not love, and obliging her to administer to the passion of the man she did, was cruelly mortifying.


Here, too, her present removal promised advantage.


When no longer under the same roof with Edmund, she trusted that Miss Crawford would have no motive for writing strong enough to overcome the trouble, and that at Portsmouth their correspondence would dwindle into nothing.

Once she was no longer under the same roof as Edmund, she trusted that Miss Crawford would have less motive for writing, and that at Portsmouth their correspondence would dwindle into nothing.


With such thoughts as these, among ten hundred others, Fanny proceeded in her journey safely and cheerfully, and as expeditiously as could rationally be hoped in the dirty month of February.

With such thoughts as these, Fanny proceeded in her journey cheerfully.


They entered Oxford, but she could take only a hasty glimpse of Edmund's college as they passed along, and made no stop anywhere till they reached Newbury, where a comfortable meal, uniting dinner and supper, wound up the enjoyments and fatigues of the day.

They made no stop till they reached Newbury, where a comfortable meal wound up the enjoyments and fatigues of the day.


The next morning saw them off again at an early hour; and with no events, and no delays, they regularly advanced, and were in the environs of Portsmouth while there was yet daylight for Fanny to look around her, and wonder at the new buildings.

The next morning saw them off again at an early hour; and they neared Portsmouth while there was yet daylight for Fanny to look around her, and wonder at the new buildings.


They passed the drawbridge, and entered the town; and the light was only beginning to fail as, guided by William's powerful voice, they were rattled into a narrow street, leading from the High Street, and drawn up before the door of a small house now inhabited by Mr. Price.

They passed the drawbridge, and entered the town; and as the light was beginning to fail, they were rattled into a narrow street, and drawn up before the door of a small house now inhabited by Mr. Price.


Fanny was all agitation and flutter; all hope and apprehension.

Fanny was all fluttering hope and apprehension.


The moment they stopped, a trollopy-looking maidservant, seemingly in waiting for them at the door, stepped forward, and more intent on telling the news than giving them any help, immediately began with, "The Thrush is gone out of harbour, please sir, and one of the officers has been here to-" She was interrupted by a fine tall boy of eleven years old, who, rushing out of the house, pushed the maid aside, and while William was opening the chaise-door himself, called out, "You are just in time.

A trollopy-looking maidservant stepped forward, and more intent on telling the news than giving them any help, immediately began with, "The Thrush is gone out of harbour, please sir, and one of the officers has been here to-"
She was interrupted by a fine tall boy of eleven years old, who, rushing out of the house, pushed the maid aside, and called out, "You are just in time, William.


We have been looking for you this half-hour.


The Thrush went out of harbour this morning.


And they think she will have her orders in a day or two.

They think she will have her orders in a day or two.


And Mr. Campbell was here at four o'clock to ask for you: he has got one of the Thrush's boats, and is going off to her at six, and hoped you would be here in time to go with him."

And Mr. Campbell was here at four o'clock to ask for you: he is going to her at six, and hoped you would be here in time to go with him."


A stare or two at Fanny, as William helped her out of the carriage, was all the voluntary notice which this brother bestowed; but he made no objection to her kissing him, though still entirely engaged in detailing farther particulars of the Thrush's going out of harbour, in which he had a strong right of interest, being to commence his career of seamanship in her at this very time.

A stare at Fanny, as William helped her out of the carriage, was all the notice which this brother gave her; but he made no objection to her kissing him, though still entirely engaged in detailing farther particulars of the Thrush's going out of harbour, in which he had a strong interest, being about to commence his career of seamanship in her at this very time.


Another moment and Fanny was in the narrow entrance-passage of the house, and in her mother's arms, who met her there with looks of true kindness, and with features which Fanny loved the more, because they brought her aunt Bertram's before her, and there were her two sisters: Susan, a well-grown fine girl of fourteen, and Betsey, the youngest of the family, about five-both glad to see her in their way, though with no advantage of manner in receiving her.

Another moment and Fanny was in the narrow entrance-passage of the house, and in the arms of her mother, who met her with looks of true kindness, and with features which Fanny loved the more, because they were like her aunt Bertram's. There also were her two sisters: Susan, a well-grown fine girl of fourteen, and Betsey, the youngest of the family, about five-both glad to see her in their way, though without any polish to their manners in receiving her.


Would they but love her, she should be satisfied.


She was then taken into a parlour, so small that her first conviction was of its being only a passage-room to something better, and she stood for a moment expecting to be invited on; but when she saw there was no other door, and that there were signs of habitation before her, she called back her thoughts, reproved herself, and grieved lest they should have been suspected.

She was taken into a parlour, so small that she thought at first it was only a passage, and stood for a moment expecting to be invited on; but when she saw there was no other door, and that there were signs of habitation before her, she reproved herself, and grieved lest her thoughts should have been suspected.


Her mother, however, could not stay long enough to suspect anything.


She was gone again to the street-door, to welcome William.


my dear William, how glad I am to see you.


She is gone out of harbour already; three days before we had any thought of it; and I do not know what I am to do about Sam's things, they will never be ready in time; for she may have her orders to-morrow, perhaps.

She is gone out of harbour already; and I do not know what I am to do about Sam's things, they will never be ready in time.


And now you must be off for Spithead too.


Campbell has been here, quite in a worry about you; and now what shall we do?

Campbell has been here, and now what shall we do?


I thought to have had such a comfortable evening with you, and here everything comes upon me at once."


Her son answered cheerfully, telling her that everything was always for the best; and making light of his own inconvenience in being obliged to hurry away so soon.

Her son answered cheerfully, making light of his own inconvenience in being obliged to hurry away so soon.


"To be sure, I had much rather she had stayed in harbour, that I might have sat a few hours with you in comfort; but as there is a boat ashore, I had better go off at once, and there is no help for it.

"To be sure, I had much rather she had stayed in harbour, that I might have sat a few hours with you in comfort; but as there is a boat ashore, I had better go off.


Whereabouts does the Thrush lay at Spithead?


But no matter; here's Fanny in the parlour, and why should we stay in the passage?


Come, mother, you have hardly looked at your own dear Fanny yet."


In they both came, and Mrs. Price having kindly kissed her daughter again, and commented a little on her growth, began with very natural solicitude to feel for their fatigues and wants as travellers.

Mrs. Price, having kindly kissed her daughter again, and commented on her growth, said with solicitude


Betsey and I have been watching for you this half-hour.


I could not tell whether you would be for some meat, or only a dish of tea, after your journey, or else I would have got something ready.

I did not know what you would like, or else I would have got something ready.


And now I am afraid Campbell will be here before there is time to dress a steak, and we have no butcher at hand.


It is very inconvenient to have no butcher in the street.


Perhaps you would like some tea as soon as it can be got."


They both declared they should prefer it to anything.


"Then, Betsey, my dear, run into the kitchen and see if Rebecca has put the water on; and tell her to bring in the tea-things as soon as she can.

"Then, Betsey, my dear, run into the kitchen and see if Rebecca has put the water on; and tell her to bring in the tea-things.


I wish we could get the bell mended; but Betsey is a very handy little messenger."


Betsey went with alacrity, proud to shew her abilities before her fine new sister.

Betsey went with alacrity, proud to show her abilities before her fine new sister.


continued the anxious mother, "what a sad fire we have got, and I dare say you are both starved with cold.

continued the anxious mother, "what a sad fire we have got, and I dare say you are both cold.


I cannot think what Rebecca has been about.


I am sure I told her to bring some coals half an hour ago.


Susan, you should have taken care of the fire."


"I was upstairs, mama, moving my things," said Susan, in a fearless, self-defending tone, which startled Fanny.


"You know you had but just settled that my sister Fanny and I should have the other room; and I could not get Rebecca to give me any help."

"You know you had settled that Fanny and I should have the other room; and I could not get Rebecca to give me any help."


Farther discussion was prevented by various bustles: first, the driver came to be paid; then there was a squabble between Sam and Rebecca about the manner of carrying up his sister's trunk, which he would manage all his own way; and lastly, in walked Mr. Price himself, his own loud voice preceding him, as with something of the oath kind he kicked away his son's portmanteau and his daughter's bandbox in the passage, and called out for a candle; no candle was brought, however, and he walked into the room.

Farther discussion was prevented by various bustles: first, the driver came to be paid; then there was a squabble between Sam and Rebecca about the manner of carrying up his sister's trunk, which he would manage all his own way; and lastly, in walked Mr. Price himself, his own loud voice preceding him, as with something of the oath kind he kicked away his son's bag and his daughter's hatbox in the passage, called out for a candle, and walked into the room.


Fanny with doubting feelings had risen to meet him, but sank down again on finding herself undistinguished in the dusk, and unthought of.

Fanny had risen to meet him, but sank down again on finding herself undistinguished in the dusk, and unthought of.


With a friendly shake of his son's hand, and an eager voice, he instantly began-"Ha!

With a friendly shake of his son's hand, he instantly began-
"Ha!


The Thrush went out of harbour this morning.


The doctor has been here inquiring for you: he has got one of the boats, and is to be off for Spithead by six, so you had better go with him.


I have been to Turner's about your mess; it is all in a way to be done.


I should not wonder if you had your orders to-morrow: but you cannot sail with this wind, if you are to cruise to the westward; and Captain Walsh thinks you will certainly have a cruise to the westward, with the Elephant.


But old Scholey was saying, just now, that he thought you would be sent first to the Texel.


Well, well, we are ready, whatever happens.


But by G-, you lost a fine sight by not being here in the morning to see the Thrush go out of harbour!


I would not have been out of the way for a thousand pounds.


Old Scholey ran in at breakfast-time, to say she had slipped her moorings and was coming out, I jumped up, and made but two steps to the platform.


If ever there was a perfect beauty afloat, she is one; and there she lays at Spithead, and anybody in England would take her for an eight-and-twenty.


I was upon the platform two hours this afternoon looking at her.


She lays close to the Endymion, between her and the Cleopatra, just to the eastward of the sheer hulk."

She lays close to the Endymion, between her and the Cleopatra."


cried William, "_that's_ just where I should have put her myself.

cried William, "that's just where I should have put her myself.


But here is my sister, sir; here is Fanny," turning and leading her forward; "it is so dark you do not see her."

But here is Fanny, sir; it is so dark you do not see her."


With an acknowledgment that he had quite forgot her, Mr. Price now received his daughter; and having given her a cordial hug, and observed that she was grown into a woman, and he supposed would be wanting a husband soon, seemed very much inclined to forget her again.

With an acknowledgment that he had quite forgot her, Mr. Price now received his daughter; and having given her a cordial hug, and observed that she was grown into a woman, seemed inclined to forget her again.


Fanny shrunk back to her seat, with feelings sadly pained by his language and his smell of spirits; and he talked on only to his son, and only of the Thrush, though William, warmly interested as he was in that subject, more than once tried to make his father think of Fanny, and her long absence and long journey.

Fanny shrunk back to her seat, sadly pained by his language and his smell of spirits; and he talked on only to his son, and only of the Thrush, though William, warmly interested as he was in that subject, more than once tried to make his father think of Fanny, and her long absence and long journey.


After sitting some time longer, a candle was obtained; but as there was still no appearance of tea, nor, from Betsey's reports from the kitchen, much hope of any under a considerable period, William determined to go and change his dress, and make the necessary preparations for his removal on board directly, that he might have his tea in comfort afterwards.

After some time, a candle was obtained; but as there was still no appearance of tea, William decided to go and change his dress, and prepare for his removal on board, so that he might have his tea in comfort afterwards.


As he left the room, two rosy-faced boys, ragged and dirty, about eight and nine years old, rushed into it just released from school, and coming eagerly to see their sister, and tell that the Thrush was gone out of harbour; Tom and Charles.

As he left the room, two rosy-faced boys, ragged and dirty, about eight and nine years old, rushed into it, just released from school, and coming eagerly to see their sister and tell that the Thrush was gone out of harbour; Tom and Charles.


Charles had been born since Fanny's going away, but Tom she had often helped to nurse, and now felt a particular pleasure in seeing again.


Both were kissed very tenderly, but Tom she wanted to keep by her, to try to trace the features of the baby she had loved, and talked to, of his infant preference of herself.

Both were kissed very tenderly, but Tom she wanted to keep by her, to try to trace the features of the baby she had loved.


Tom, however, had no mind for such treatment: he came home not to stand and be talked to, but to run about and make a noise; and both boys had soon burst from her, and slammed the parlour-door till her temples ached.