Chapter XXXVII

by Jane Austen

　　Mr. Crawford gone, Sir Thomas's next object was that heshould be missed; and he entertained great hope that hisniece would find a blank in the loss of those attentionswhich at the time she had felt, or fancied, an evil.She had tasted of consequence in its most flattering form;and he did hope that the loss of it, the sinking againinto nothing, would awaken very wholesome regretsin her mind. He watched her with this idea; but hecould hardly tell with what success. He hardly knewwhether there were any difference in her spirits or not.She was always so gentle and retiring that her emotionswere beyond his discrimination. He did not understand her:he felt that he did not; and therefore applied to Edmundto tell him how she stood affected on the present occasion,and whether she were more or less happy than shehad been.Edmund did not discern any symptoms of regret, and thoughthis father a little unreasonable in supposing the firstthree or four days could produce any.What chiefly surprised Edmund was, that Crawford's sister,the friend and companion who had been so much to her,should not be more visibly regretted. He wondered that Fannyspoke so seldom of _her_, and had so little voluntarilyto say of her concern at this separation.Alas! it was this sister, this friend and companion,who was now the chief bane of Fanny's comfort. If shecould have believed Mary's future fate as unconnectedwith Mansfield as she was determined the brother'sshould be, if she could have hoped her return thitherto be as distant as she was much inclined to think his,she would have been light of heart indeed; but the moreshe recollected and observed, the more deeply was sheconvinced that everything was now in a fairer trainfor Miss Crawford's marrying Edmund than it had everbeen before. On his side the inclination was stronger,on hers less equivocal. His objections, the scruples ofhis integrity, seemed all done away, nobody could tell how;and the doubts and hesitations of her ambition wereequally got over--and equally without apparent reason.It could only be imputed to increasing attachment.His good and her bad feelings yielded to love, and suchlove must unite them. He was to go to town as soon assome business relative to Thornton Lacey were completed--perhaps within a fortnight; he talked of going,he loved to talk of it; and when once with her again,Fanny could not doubt the rest. Her acceptance mustbe as certain as his offer; and yet there were badfeelings still remaining which made the prospect of itmost sorrowful to her, independently, she believed,independently of self.In their very last conversation, Miss Crawford, in spiteof some amiable sensations, and much personal kindness,had still been Miss Crawford; still shewn a mind led astrayand bewildered, and without any suspicion of being so;darkened, yet fancying itself light. She might love,but she did not deserve Edmund by any other sentiment.Fanny believed there was scarcely a second feelingin common between them; and she may be forgiven by oldersages for looking on the chance of Miss Crawford's futureimprovement as nearly desperate, for thinking that if Edmund'sinfluence in this season of love had already done so littlein clearing her judgment, and regulating her notions,his worth would be finally wasted on her even in yearsof matrimony.Experience might have hoped more for any young peopleso circumstanced, and impartiality would not have deniedto Miss Crawford's nature that participation of the generalnature of women which would lead her to adopt the opinionsof the man she loved and respected as her own. But as suchwere Fanny's persuasions, she suffered very much from them,and could never speak of Miss Crawford without pain.Sir Thomas, meanwhile, went on with his own hopes andhis own observations, still feeling a right, by all hisknowledge of human nature, to expect to see the effectof the loss of power and consequence on his niece's spirits,and the past attentions of the lover producing a cravingfor their return; and he was soon afterwards able to accountfor his not yet completely and indubitably seeing all this,by the prospect of another visitor, whose approach hecould allow to be quite enough to support the spiritshe was watching. William had obtained a ten days'leave of absence, to be given to Northamptonshire,and was coming, the happiest of lieutenants, because thelatest made, to shew his happiness and describe his uniform.He came; and he would have been delighted to shew his uniformthere too, had not cruel custom prohibited its appearanceexcept on duty. So the uniform remained at Portsmouth,and Edmund conjectured that before Fanny had any chanceof seeing it, all its own freshness and all the freshnessof its wearer's feelings must be worn away. It would be sunkinto a badge of disgrace; for what can be more unbecoming,or more worthless, than the uniform of a lieutenant,who has been a lieutenant a year or two, and seesothers made commanders before him? So reasoned Edmund,till his father made him the confidant of a scheme whichplaced Fanny's chance of seeing the second lieutenantof H.M.S. Thrush in all his glory in another light.This scheme was that she should accompany her brotherback to Portsmouth, and spend a little time with herown family. It had occurred to Sir Thomas, in one of hisdignified musings, as a right and desirable measure;but before he absolutely made up his mind, he consultedhis son. Edmund considered it every way, and saw nothingbut what was right. The thing was good in itself,and could not be done at a better time; and he had no doubtof it being highly agreeable to Fanny. This was enoughto determine Sir Thomas; and a decisive "then so it shall be"closed that stage of the business; Sir Thomas retiringfrom it with some feelings of satisfaction, and viewsof good over and above what he had communicated to his son;for his prime motive in sending her away had very littleto do with the propriety of her seeing her parents again,and nothing at all with any idea of making her happy.He certainly wished her to go willingly, but he as certainlywished her to be heartily sick of home before her visit ended;and that a little abstinence from the elegancies and luxuriesof Mansfield Park would bring her mind into a sober state,and incline her to a juster estimate of the valueof that home of greater permanence, and equal comfort,of which she had the offer.It was a medicinal project upon his niece's understanding,which he must consider as at present diseased.A residence of eight or nine years in the abode of wealthand plenty had a little disordered her powers of comparingand judging. Her father's house would, in all probability,teach her the value of a good income; and he trusted thatshe would be the wiser and happier woman, all her life,for the experiment he had devised.Had Fanny been at all addicted to raptures, she must havehad a strong attack of them when she first understoodwhat was intended, when her uncle first made her the offerof visiting the parents, and brothers, and sisters,from whom she had been divided almost half her life;of returning for a couple of months to the scenes ofher infancy, with William for the protector and companionof her journey, and the certainty of continuing to seeWilliam to the last hour of his remaining on land.Had she ever given way to bursts of delight, it must havebeen then, for she was delighted, but her happiness wasof a quiet, deep, heart-swelling sort; and though nevera great talker, she was always more inclined to silencewhen feeling most strongly. At the moment she couldonly thank and accept. Afterwards, when familiarisedwith the visions of enjoyment so suddenly opened, she couldspeak more largely to William and Edmund of what she felt;but still there were emotions of tenderness that couldnot be clothed in words. The remembrance of all herearliest pleasures, and of what she had suffered in beingtorn from them, came over her with renewed strength,and it seemed as if to be at home again would healevery pain that had since grown out of the separation.To be in the centre of such a circle, loved by so many,and more loved by all than she had ever been before;to feel affection without fear or restraint; to feelherself the equal of those who surrounded her; to be atpeace from all mention of the Crawfords, safe from everylook which could be fancied a reproach on their account.This was a prospect to be dwelt on with a fondness that couldbe but half acknowledged.Edmund, too--to be two months from _him_ (and perhapsshe might be allowed to make her absence three)must do her good. At a distance, unassailed by his looksor his kindness, and safe from the perpetual irritationof knowing his heart, and striving to avoid his confidence,she should be able to reason herself into a properer state;she should be able to think of him as in London,and arranging everything there, without wretchedness.What might have been hard to bear at Mansfield was to becomea slight evil at Portsmouth.The only drawback was the doubt of her aunt Bertram's beingcomfortable without her. She was of use to no one else;but _there_ she might be missed to a degree that she didnot like to think of; and that part of the arrangementwas, indeed, the hardest for Sir Thomas to accomplish,and what only _he_ could have accomplished at all.But he was master at Mansfield Park. When he had reallyresolved on any measure, he could always carry it through;and now by dint of long talking on the subject,explaining and dwelling on the duty of Fanny's sometimesseeing her family, he did induce his wife to let her go;obtaining it rather from submission, however, than conviction,for Lady Bertram was convinced of very little more thanthat Sir Thomas thought Fanny ought to go, and thereforethat she must. In the calmness of her own dressing-room,in the impartial flow of her own meditations, unbiassed byhis bewildering statements, she could not acknowledge anynecessity for Fanny's ever going near a father and motherwho had done without her so long, while she was so usefulto herself And as to the not missing her, which underMrs. Norris's discussion was the point attempted to be proved,she set herself very steadily against admitting any such thing.Sir Thomas had appealed to her reason, conscience, and dignity.He called it a sacrifice, and demanded it of her goodnessand self-command as such. But Mrs. Norris wanted to persuadeher that Fanny could be very well spared--_she_ beingready to give up all her own time to her as requested--and, in short, could not really be wanted or missed."That may be, sister," was all Lady Bertram's reply."I dare say you are very right; but I am sure I shall missher very much."The next step was to communicate with Portsmouth. Fanny wroteto offer herself; and her mother's answer, though short,was so kind--a few simple lines expressed so natural andmotherly a joy in the prospect of seeing her child again,as to confirm all the daughter's views of happiness inbeing with her--convincing her that she should now finda warm and affectionate friend in the "mama" who hadcertainly shewn no remarkable fondness for her formerly;but this she could easily suppose to have been her ownfault or her own fancy. She had probably alienated loveby the helplessness and fretfulness of a fearful temper,or been unreasonable in wanting a larger share thanany one among so many could deserve. Now, when sheknew better how to be useful, and how to forbear,and when her mother could be no longer occupied by theincessant demands of a house full of little children,there would be leisure and inclination for every comfort,and they should soon be what mother and daughter oughtto be to each other.William was almost as happy in the plan as his sister.It would be the greatest pleasure to him to have her thereto the last moment before he sailed, and perhaps findher there still when he came in from his first cruise.And besides, he wanted her so very much to see the Thrushbefore she went out of harbour--the Thrush was certainlythe finest sloop in the service--and there were severalimprovements in the dockyard, too, which he quite longed toshew her.He did not scruple to add that her being at homefor a while would be a great advantage to everybody."I do not know how it is," said he; "but we seem to wantsome of your nice ways and orderliness at my father's. Thehouse is always in confusion. You will set things goingin a better way, I am sure. You will tell my mother how itall ought to be, and you will be so useful to Susan, and youwill teach Betsey, and make the boys love and mind you.How right and comfortable it will all be!"By the time Mrs. Price's answer arrived, there remainedbut a very few days more to be spent at Mansfield;and for part of one of those days the young travellerswere in a good deal of alarm on the subject of theirjourney, for when the mode of it came to be talked of,and Mrs. Norris found that all her anxiety to save herbrother-in-law's money was vain, and that in spite of herwishes and hints for a less expensive conveyance of Fanny,they were to travel post; when she saw Sir Thomas actuallygive William notes for the purpose, she was struck withthe idea of there being room for a third in the carriage,and suddenly seized with a strong inclination to gowith them, to go and see her poor dear sister Price.She proclaimed her thoughts. She must say that shehad more than half a mind to go with the young people;it would be such an indulgence to her; she had not seenher poor dear sister Price for more than twenty years;and it would be a help to the young people in their journeyto have her older head to manage for them; and she couldnot help thinking her poor dear sister Price would feel itvery unkind of her not to come by such an opportunity.William and Fanny were horror-struck at the idea.All the comfort of their comfortable journey wouldbe destroyed at once. With woeful countenances theylooked at each other. Their suspense lasted an houror two. No one interfered to encourage or dissuade.Mrs. Norris was left to settle the matter by herself;and it ended, to the infinite joy of her nephew and niece,in the recollection that she could not possibly be sparedfrom Mansfield Park at present; that she was a great dealtoo necessary to Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram for her to beable to answer it to herself to leave them even for a week,and therefore must certainly sacrifice every other pleasureto that of being useful to them.It had, in fact, occurred to her, that though takento Portsmouth for nothing, it would be hardly possiblefor her to avoid paying her own expenses back again.So her poor dear sister Price was left to all thedisappointment of her missing such an opportunity,and another twenty years' absence, perhaps, begun.Edmund's plans were affected by this Portsmouth journey,this absence of Fanny's. He too had a sacrifice to maketo Mansfield Park as well as his aunt. He had intended,about this time, to be going to London; but he couldnot leave his father and mother just when everybody elseof most importance to their comfort was leaving them;and with an effort, felt but not boasted of, he delayedfor a week or two longer a journey which he was lookingforward to with the hope of its fixing his happinessfor ever.He told Fanny of it. She knew so much already,that she must know everything. It made the substanceof one other confidential discourse about Miss Crawford;and Fanny was the more affected from feeling it to bethe last time in which Miss Crawford's name would everbe mentioned between them with any remains of liberty.Once afterwards she was alluded to by him. Lady Bertram hadbeen telling her niece in the evening to write to her soonand often, and promising to be a good correspondent herself;and Edmund, at a convenient moment, then added in a whisper,"And _I_ shall write to you, Fanny, when I have anythingworth writing about, anything to say that I think youwill like to hear, and that you will not hear so soonfrom any other quarter." Had she doubted his meaningwhile she listened, the glow in his face, when she lookedup at him, would have been decisive.For this letter she must try to arm herself. That aletter from Edmund should be a subject of terror!She began to feel that she had not yet gone through allthe changes of opinion and sentiment which the progressof time and variation of circumstances occasion in thisworld of changes. The vicissitudes of the human mindhad not yet been exhausted by her.Poor Fanny! though going as she did willingly and eagerly,the last evening at Mansfield Park must stillbe wretchedness. Her heart was completely sad at parting.She had tears for every room in the house, much morefor every beloved inhabitant. She clung to her aunt,because she would miss her; she kissed the hand of heruncle with struggling sobs, because she had displeased him;and as for Edmund, she could neither speak, nor look,nor think, when the last moment came with _him_; and itwas not till it was over that she knew he was givingher the affectionate farewell of a brother.All this passed overnight, for the journey was tobegin very early in the morning; and when the small,diminished party met at breakfast, William and Fannywere talked of as already advanced one stage.