Chapter XXXIII

by Jane Austen

　　The conference was neither so short nor so conclusiveas the lady had designed. The gentleman was notso easily satisfied. He had all the disposition topersevere that Sir Thomas could wish him. He had vanity,which strongly inclined him in the first place to thinkshe did love him, though she might not know it herself;and which, secondly, when constrained at last to admitthat she did know her own present feelings, convinced himthat he should be able in time to make those feelingswhat he wished.He was in love, very much in love; and it was a love which,operating on an active, sanguine spirit, of more warmththan delicacy, made her affection appear of greaterconsequence because it was withheld, and determined himto have the glory, as well as the felicity, of forcingher to love him.He would not despair: he would not desist. He had everywell-grounded reason for solid attachment; he knew herto have all the worth that could justify the warmesthopes of lasting happiness with her; her conduct at thisvery time, by speaking the disinterestedness and delicacyof her character (qualities which he believed most rareindeed), was of a sort to heighten all his wishes,and confirm all his resolutions. He knew not that he had apre-engaged heart to attack. Of _that_ he had no suspicion.He considered her rather as one who had never thoughton the subject enough to be in danger; who had beenguarded by youth, a youth of mind as lovely as of person;whose modesty had prevented her from understandinghis attentions, and who was still overpowered by thesuddenness of addresses so wholly unexpected, and the noveltyof a situation which her fancy had never taken into account.Must it not follow of course, that, when he was understood,he should succeed? He believed it fully. Love such as his,in a man like himself, must with perseverance secure a return,and at no great distance; and he had so much delight inthe idea of obliging her to love him in a very short time,that her not loving him now was scarcely regretted.A little difficulty to be overcome was no evil toHenry Crawford. He rather derived spirits from it.He had been apt to gain hearts too easily. His situationwas new and animating.To Fanny, however, who had known too much opposition all herlife to find any charm in it, all this was unintelligible.She found that he did mean to persevere; but how he could,after such language from her as she felt herself obligedto use, was not to be understood. She told him that shedid not love him, could not love him, was sure she nevershould love him; that such a change was quite impossible;that the subject was most painful to her; that she mustentreat him never to mention it again, to allow her to leavehim at once, and let it be considered as concluded for ever.And when farther pressed, had added, that in her opiniontheir dispositions were so totally dissimilar as to makemutual affection incompatible; and that they were unfittedfor each other by nature, education, and habit. All thisshe had said, and with the earnestness of sincerity;yet this was not enough, for he immediately denied therebeing anything uncongenial in their characters, or anythingunfriendly in their situations; and positively declared,that he would still love, and still hope!Fanny knew her own meaning, but was no judge of her own manner.Her manner was incurably gentle; and she was not awarehow much it concealed the sternness of her purpose.Her diffidence, gratitude, and softness made every expressionof indifference seem almost an effort of self-denial;seem, at least, to be giving nearly as much pain to herselfas to him. Mr. Crawford was no longer the Mr. Crawford who,as the clandestine, insidious, treacherous admirer ofMaria Bertram, had been her abhorrence, whom she had hatedto see or to speak to, in whom she could believe no goodquality to exist, and whose power, even of being agreeable,she had barely acknowledged. He was now the Mr. Crawfordwho was addressing herself with ardent, disinterested love;whose feelings were apparently become all that washonourable and upright, whose views of happiness were allfixed on a marriage of attachment; who was pouring outhis sense of her merits, describing and describing againhis affection, proving as far as words could prove it,and in the language, tone, and spirit of a man of talent too,that he sought her for her gentleness and her goodness;and to complete the whole, he was now the Mr. Crawfordwho had procured William's promotion!Here was a change, and here were claims which couldnot but operate! She might have disdained him in allthe dignity of angry virtue, in the grounds of Sotherton,or the theatre at Mansfield Park; but he approachedher now with rights that demanded different treatment.She must be courteous, and she must be compassionate.She must have a sensation of being honoured, and whetherthinking of herself or her brother, she must have a strongfeeling of gratitude. The effect of the whole was amanner so pitying and agitated, and words intermingledwith her refusal so expressive of obligation and concern,that to a temper of vanity and hope like Crawford's,the truth, or at least the strength of her indifference,might well be questionable; and he was not so irrationalas Fanny considered him, in the professions of persevering,assiduous, and not desponding attachment which closedthe interview.It was with reluctance that he suffered her to go; but therewas no look of despair in parting to belie his words,or give her hopes of his being less unreasonable than heprofessed himself.Now she was angry. Some resentment did arise at aperseverance so selfish and ungenerous. Here was againa want of delicacy and regard for others which had formerlyso struck and disgusted her. Here was again a somethingof the same Mr. Crawford whom she had so reprobated before.How evidently was there a gross want of feeling and humanitywhere his own pleasure was concerned; and alas! how alwaysknown no principle to supply as a duty what the heartwas deficient in! Had her own affections been as freeas perhaps they ought to have been, he never could have engagedthem.So thought Fanny, in good truth and sober sadness,as she sat musing over that too great indulgence and luxuryof a fire upstairs: wondering at the past and present;wondering at what was yet to come, and in a nervousagitation which made nothing clear to her but the persuasionof her being never under any circumstances able to loveMr. Crawford, and the felicity of having a fire to sitover and think of it.Sir Thomas was obliged, or obliged himself, to wait tillthe morrow for a knowledge of what had passed betweenthe young people. He then saw Mr. Crawford, and receivedhis account. The first feeling was disappointment:he had hoped better things; he had thought that an hour'sentreaty from a young man like Crawford could not have workedso little change on a gentle-tempered girl like Fanny;but there was speedy comfort in the determined viewsand sanguine perseverance of the lover; and when seeingsuch confidence of success in the principal, Sir Thomaswas soon able to depend on it himself.Nothing was omitted, on his side, of civility, compliment,or kindness, that might assist the plan. Mr. Crawford'ssteadiness was honoured, and Fanny was praised, and theconnexion was still the most desirable in the world.At Mansfield Park Mr. Crawford would always be welcome;he had only to consult his own judgment and feelings asto the frequency of his visits, at present or in future.In all his niece's family and friends, there could bebut one opinion, one wish on the subject; the influenceof all who loved her must incline one way.Everything was said that could encourage, every encouragementreceived with grateful joy, and the gentlemen partedthe best of friends.Satisfied that the cause was now on a footing the mostproper and hopeful, Sir Thomas resolved to abstainfrom all farther importunity with his niece, and toshew no open interference. Upon her disposition hebelieved kindness might be the best way of working.Entreaty should be from one quarter only. The forbearanceof her family on a point, respecting which she couldbe in no doubt of their wishes, might be their surestmeans of forwarding it. Accordingly, on this principle,Sir Thomas took the first opportunity of saying to her,with a mild gravity, intended to be overcoming,"Well, Fanny, I have seen Mr. Crawford again, and learnfrom him exactly how matters stand between you. He isa most extraordinary young man, and whatever be the event,you must feel that you have created an attachment of nocommon character; though, young as you are, and littleacquainted with the transient, varying, unsteady natureof love, as it generally exists, you cannot be struckas I am with all that is wonderful in a perseveranceof this sort against discouragement. With him it isentirely a matter of feeling: he claims no merit in it;perhaps is entitled to none. Yet, having chosen so well,his constancy has a respectable stamp. Had his choicebeen less unexceptionable, I should have condemnedhis persevering.""Indeed, sir," said Fanny, "I am very sorry that Mr. Crawfordshould continue to know that it is paying me a verygreat compliment, and I feel most undeservedly honoured;but I am so perfectly convinced, and I have told him so,that it never will be in my power--""My dear," interrupted Sir Thomas, "there is nooccasion for this. Your feelings are as well knownto me as my wishes and regrets must be to you.There is nothing more to be said or done. From thishour the subject is never to be revived between us.You will have nothing to fear, or to be agitated about.You cannot suppose me capable of trying to persuade youto marry against your inclinations. Your happinessand advantage are all that I have in view, and nothing isrequired of you but to bear with Mr. Crawford's endeavoursto convince you that they may not be incompatible with his.He proceeds at his own risk. You are on safe ground.I have engaged for your seeing him whenever he calls,as you might have done had nothing of this sort occurred.You will see him with the rest of us, in the same manner,and, as much as you can, dismissing the recollection ofeverything unpleasant. He leaves Northamptonshire so soon,that even this slight sacrifice cannot be often demanded.The future must be very uncertain. And now, my dear Fanny,this subject is closed between us."The promised departure was all that Fanny could thinkof with much satisfaction. Her uncle's kind expressions,however, and forbearing manner, were sensibly felt;and when she considered how much of the truth was unknownto him, she believed she had no right to wonder at the lineof conduct he pursued. He, who had married a daughterto Mr. Rushworth: romantic delicacy was certainly notto be expected from him. She must do her duty, and trustthat time might make her duty easier than it now was.She could not, though only eighteen, suppose Mr. Crawford'sattachment would hold out for ever; she could notbut imagine that steady, unceasing discouragement fromherself would put an end to it in time. How much timeshe might, in her own fancy, allot for its dominion,is another concern. It would not be fair to inquireinto a young lady's exact estimate of her own perfections.In spite of his intended silence, Sir Thomas found himselfonce more obliged to mention the subject to his niece,to prepare her briefly for its being imparted to her aunts;a measure which he would still have avoided, if possible,but which became necessary from the totally oppositefeelings of Mr. Crawford as to any secrecy of proceeding.He had no idea of concealment. It was all known atthe Parsonage, where he loved to talk over the futurewith both his sisters, and it would be rather gratifyingto him to have enlightened witnesses of the progressof his success. When Sir Thomas understood this, he feltthe necessity of making his own wife and sister-in-lawacquainted with the business without delay; though,on Fanny's account, he almost dreaded the effect of thecommunication to Mrs. Norris as much as Fanny herself.He deprecated her mistaken but well-meaning zeal.Sir Thomas, indeed, was, by this time, not very far fromclassing Mrs. Norris as one of those well-meaning peoplewho are always doing mistaken and very disagreeable things.Mrs. Norris, however, relieved him. He pressedfor the strictest forbearance and silence towardstheir niece; she not only promised, but did observe it.She only looked her increased ill-will. Angry she was:bitterly angry; but she was more angry with Fanny forhaving received such an offer than for refusing it.It was an injury and affront to Julia, who ought to havebeen Mr. Crawford's choice; and, independently of that,she disliked Fanny, because she had neglected her;and she would have grudged such an elevation to one whomshe had been always trying to depress.Sir Thomas gave her more credit for discretion on theoccasion than she deserved; and Fanny could have blessedher for allowing her only to see her displeasure,and not to hear it.Lady Bertram took it differently. She had been a beauty,and a prosperous beauty, all her life; and beautyand wealth were all that excited her respect. To knowFanny to be sought in marriage by a man of fortune,raised her, therefore, very much in her opinion.By convincing her that Fanny _was_ very pretty, which shehad been doubting about before, and that she would beadvantageously married, it made her feel a sort of creditin calling her niece."Well, Fanny," said she, as soon as they were alonetogether afterwards, and she really had known somethinglike impatience to be alone with her, and her countenance,as she spoke, had extraordinary animation; "Well, Fanny,I have had a very agreeable surprise this morning. I mustjust speak of it _once_, I told Sir Thomas I must _once_,and then I shall have done. I give you joy, my dear niece."And looking at her complacently, she added, "Humph, wecertainly are a handsome family!"Fanny coloured, and doubted at first what to say;when, hoping to assail her on her vulnerable side,she presently answered--"My dear aunt, _you_ cannot wish me to do differently fromwhat I have done, I am sure. _You_ cannot wish me to marry;for you would miss me, should not you? Yes, I am sureyou would miss me too much for that.""No, my dear, I should not think of missing you,when such an offer as this comes in your way.I could do very well without you, if you were marriedto a man of such good estate as Mr. Crawford. And youmust be aware, Fanny, that it is every young woman'sduty to accept such a very unexceptionable offer as this."This was almost the only rule of conduct, the only pieceof advice, which Fanny had ever received from her auntin the course of eight years and a half. It silenced her.She felt how unprofitable contention would be.If her aunt's feelings were against her, nothing couldbe hoped from attacking her understanding. Lady Bertramwas quite talkative."I will tell you what, Fanny," said she, "I am sure hefell in love with you at the ball; I am sure the mischiefwas done that evening. You did look remarkably well.Everybody said so. Sir Thomas said so. And you knowyou had Chapman to help you to dress. I am very gladI sent Chapman to you. I shall tell Sir Thomas that Iam sure it was done that evening." And still pursuingthe same cheerful thoughts, she soon afterwards added,"And will tell you what, Fanny, which is more than I didfor Maria: the next time Pug has a litter you shall havea puppy."