Mansfield Park quotes

She had two sisters to be benefited by her elevation; and such of their acquaintance as thought Miss Ward and Miss Frances quite as handsome as Miss Maria, did not scruple to predict their marrying with almost equal advantage.

But there certainly are not so many men of large fortune in the world as there are pretty women to deserve them.

Miss Ward, at the end of half a dozen years, found herself obliged to be attached to the Rev. Mr. Norris, a friend of her brother-in-law, with scarcely any private fortune, and Miss Frances fared yet worse.

The letter was not unproductive. It reestablished peace and kindness. Sir Thomas sent friendly advice and professions,

Lady Bertram dispatched money and baby-linen, and Mrs. Norris wrote the letters.

Such were its immediate effects, and within a twelvemonth a more important advantage to Mrs. Price resulted from it. Mrs.

She spoke of her farther as somewhat delicate and puny, but was sanguine in the hope of her being materially better for change of air.

Poor woman! she probably thought change of air might agree with many of her children.

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.

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

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

Norris was inclined to allow, to reconcile Fanny to the novelty of Mansfield Park, and the separation from everybody she had been used to. Her feelings were very acute, and too little understood to be 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.

Lady Bertram listened without much interest to this sort of invective.

She could not enter into the wrongs of an economist, but she felt all the injuries of beauty in Mrs. Grant’s being so well settled in life without being handsome, and expressed her astonishment on that point almost as often, though not so diffusely, as Mrs. Norris discussed the other.

These opinions had been hardly canvassed a year before another event arose of such importance in the family, as might fairly claim some place in the thoughts and conversation of the ladies.

but she was not disturbed by any alarm for his safety, or solicitude for his comfort, being one of those persons who think nothing can be dangerous, or difficult, or fatiguing to anybody but themselves.

The Miss Bertrams were much to be pitied on the occasion: not for their sorrow, but for their want of it.

Their father was no object of love to them; he had never seemed the friend of their pleasures, and his absence was unhappily most welcome. They were relieved by it from all restraint;

The Miss Bertrams were now fully established among the belles of the neighbourhood; and as they joined to beauty and brilliant acquirements a manner naturally easy, and carefully formed to general civility and obligingness, they possessed its favour as well as its admiration.

Their vanity was in such good order that they seemed to be quite free from it, and gave themselves no airs

; while the praises attending such behaviour, secured and brought round by their aunt, served to strengthen them in believing they had no faults.

He was a heavy young man, with not more than common sense; but as there was nothing disagreeable in his figure or address, the young lady was well pleased with her conquest.

Being now in her twenty-first year, Maria Bertram was beginning to think matrimony a duty; and as a marriage with Mr. Rushworth would give her the enjoyment of a larger income than her father’s, as well as ensure her the house in town, which was now a prime object, it became, by the same rule of moral obligation, her evident duty to marry Mr. Rushworth if she could.

Mrs. Norris was most zealous in promoting the match, by every suggestion and contrivance likely to enhance its desirableness to either party;

Rushworth a desirable companion. He could allow his sister to be the best judge of her own happiness, but he was not pleased that her happiness should centre in a large income; nor could he refrain from often saying to himself, in Mr. Rushworth’s company—

“If this man had not twelve thousand a year, he would be a very stupid fellow.”

Sir Thomas, however, was truly happy in the prospect of an alliance so unquestionably advantageous, and of which he heard nothing but the perfectly good and agreeable.

“Yes, and I like her the better for it.

An engaged woman is always more agreeable than a disengaged.

She is satisfied with herself. Her cares are over, and she feels that she may exert all her powers of pleasing without suspicion. All is safe with a lady engaged: no harm can be done.”

Mrs. Norris, who had begun to redden, was appeased; and, for a little while, other subjects took place of the improvements of Sotherton.

Dr. Grant and Mrs. Norris were seldom good friends; their acquaintance had begun in dilapidations, and their habits were totally dissimilar.

After a short interruption Mr. Rushworth began again. “Smith’s place is the admiration of all the country; and it was a mere nothing before Repton took it in hand. I think I shall have Repton.”

“I do not wish to influence Mr. Rushworth,” he continued; “but, had I a place to new fashion, I should not put myself into the hands of an improver. I would rather have an inferior degree of beauty, of my own choice, and acquired progressively.

I would rather abide by my own blunders than by his.

”

but I have nothing in the world to say for myself—I knew it was very late, and that I was behaving extremely ill; and therefore, if you please, you must forgive me.

Selfishness must always be forgiven, you know, because there is no hope of a cure.

”

and the having been to Mansfield Common disposed them all for going somewhere else the day after. There were many other views to be shown; and though the weather was hot, there were shady lanes wherever they wanted to go.

A young party is always provided with a shady lane.

Four fine mornings successively were spent in this manner, in showing the Crawfords the country, and doing the honours of its finest spots. Everything answered;

“Fanny will feel quite as grateful as the occasion requires,” was Edmund’s only reply, and the subject dropped.

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;

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.”

Happy Julia! Unhappy Maria!

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.

“

Never is a black word. But yes, in the never of conversation, which means not very often, I do think it.

For what is to be done in the church? Men love to distinguish themselves, and in either of the other lines distinction may be gained, but not in the church. A clergyman is nothing.”

“

The nothing of conversation has its gradations, I hope, as well as the never.

A clergyman cannot be high in state or fashion. He must not head mobs, or set the ton in dress.

“

Oh! do not attack me with your watch. A watch is always too fast or too slow. I cannot be dictated to by a watch.

”

“Do you mean literally or figuratively? Literally, I conclude. Yes, certainly, the sun shines, and the park looks very cheerful. But unluckily that iron gate, that ha-ha, give me a feeling of restraint and hardship.

‘I cannot get out,’ as the starling said.

” As she spoke, and it was with expression, she walked to the gate: he followed her. “Mr. Rushworth is so long fetching this key!”

that favouring something which everybody who shuts their eyes while they look, or their understandings while they reason, feels the comfort of. It would probably be the middle of November at least; the middle of November was three months off. Three months comprised thirteen weeks.

Much might happen in thirteen weeks.

Sir Thomas would have been deeply mortified by a suspicion of half that his daughters felt on the subject of his return, and would hardly have found consolation in a knowledge of the interest it excited in the breast of another young lady.

“It is not worth complaining about; but to be sure the poor old dowager could not have died at a worse time; and it is impossible to help wishing that the news could have been suppressed for just the three days we wanted.

It was but three days; and being only a grandmother, and all happening two hundred miles off, I think there would have been no great harm, and it was suggested, I know; but Lord Ravenshaw, who I suppose is one of the most correct men in England, would not hear of it.

”

As he said this, each looked towards their mother.

Lady Bertram, sunk back in one corner of the sofa, the picture of health, wealth, ease, and tranquillity, was just falling into a gentle doze, while Fanny was getting through the few difficulties of her work for her.

Edmund smiled and shook his head.

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

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

”

Mr. Rushworth followed him to say, “

I come in three times, and have two-and-forty speeches. That’s something, is not it?

But I do not much like the idea of being so fine. I shall hardly know myself in a blue dress and a pink satin cloak.”

… this, when imparted by Edmund, brought a pang with it, for it was Miss Crawford to whom she was obliged—it was Miss Crawford whose kind exertions were to excite her gratitude, and whose merit in making them was spoken of with a glow of admiration.

She was safe; but peace and safety were unconnected here.

Her mind had been never farther from peace. She could not feel that she had done wrong herself, but she was disquieted in every other way. Her heart and her judgment were equally against Edmund’s decision:

She had loved, she did love still, and she had all the suffering which a warm temper and a high spirit were likely to endure under the disappointment of a dear, though irrational hope, with a strong sense of ill-usage.

Her heart was sore and angry, and she was capable only of angry consolations.

The sister with whom she was used to be on easy terms was now become her greatest enemy: they were alienated from each other;

Crawford, that she had soon all the terror of other complaints from him. So far from being all satisfied and all enjoying, she found everybody requiring something they had not, and giving occasion of discontent to the others.

Everybody had a part either too long or too short; nobody would attend as they ought; nobody would remember on which side they were to come in; nobody but the complainer would observe any directions.

Fanny believed herself to derive as much innocent enjoyment from the play as any of them;

… him first, and having to spread the happy news through the house, Sir Thomas, with a very reasonable dependence, perhaps, on the nerves of his wife and children, had sought no confidant but the butler, and had been following him almost instantaneously into the drawing-room.

Mrs. Norris felt herself defrauded of an office on which she had always depended, whether his arrival or his death were to be the thing unfolded

; and was now trying to be in a bustle without having anything to bustle about, and labouring to be important where nothing was wanted but tranquillity and silence.

“If I must say what I think,” continued Mr. Rushworth, “in my opinion it is very disagreeable to be always rehearsing. It is having too much of a good thing. I am not so fond of acting as I was at first.

I think we are a great deal better employed, sitting comfortably here among ourselves, and doing nothing.

”

and his indignation was such, that had it not been for delicacy towards his friend, and his friend’s youngest sister, he believed he should certainly attack the baronet on the absurdity of his proceedings, and argue him into a little more rationality.

He believed this very stoutly while he was in Mansfield Wood, and all the way home; but there was a something in Sir Thomas, when they sat round the same table, which made Mr. Yates think it wiser to let him pursue his own way, and feel the folly of it without opposition.

He had known many disagreeable fathers before, and often been struck with the inconveniences they occasioned, but never, in the whole course of his life, had he seen one of that class so unintelligibly moral, so infamously tyrannical as Sir Thomas.

He was gone—he had touched her hand for the last time, he had made his parting bow, and she might seek directly all that solitude could do for her.

Henry Crawford was gone, gone from the house, and within two hours afterwards from the parish; and so ended all the hopes his selfish vanity had raised in Maria and Julia Bertram.

Julia could rejoice that he was gone. His presence was beginning to be odious to her; and if Maria gained him not, she was now cool enough to dispense with any other revenge. She did not want exposure to be added to desertion.

Mrs. Norris contrived to remove one article from his sight that might have distressed him.

The curtain, over which she had presided with such talent and such success, went off with her to her cottage, where she happened to be particularly in want of green baize.

Grant. Nothing could be objected to when it came under the discussion of the neighbourhood, except that the carriage which conveyed the bride and bridegroom and Julia from the church-door to Sotherton was the same chaise which Mr. Rushworth had used for a twelvemonth before.

In everything else the etiquette of the day might stand the strictest investigation.

It was done, and they were gone. Sir Thomas felt as an anxious father must feel, and was indeed experiencing much of the agitation which his wife had been apprehensive of for herself, but had fortunately escaped. Mrs.

and perhaps, in another three years, we may be forgetting—almost forgetting what it was before. How wonderful, how very wonderful the operations of time, and the changes of the human mind!” And following the latter train of thought, she soon afterwards added: “

If any one faculty of our nature may be called more wonderful than the rest, I do think it is memory.

There seems something more speakingly incomprehensible in the powers, the failures, the inequalities of memory, than in any other of our intelligences. The memory is sometimes so retentive, so serviceable, so obedient; at others, so bewildered and so weak;

“To say the truth,” replied Miss Crawford, “I am something like the famous Doge at the court of Lewis XIV; and may declare that

I see no wonder in this shrubbery equal to seeing myself in it.

If anybody had told me a year ago that this place would be my home, that I should be spending month after month here, as I have done, I certainly should not have believed them. I have now been here nearly five months;

here he is.” It was not Mr. Rushworth, however, but Edmund, who then appeared walking towards them with Mrs. Grant. “My sister and Mr. Bertram. I am so glad your eldest cousin is gone, that he may be Mr. Bertram again.

There is something in the sound of Mr. Edmund Bertram so formal, so pitiful, so younger-brother-like, that I detest it.

”

“How differently we feel!” cried Fanny. “To me, the sound of Mr. Bertram is so cold and nothing-meaning, so entirely without warmth or character! It just stands for a gentleman, and that’s all. But there is nobleness in the name of Edmund.

It is a name of heroism and renown; of kings, princes, and knights; and seems to breathe the spirit of chivalry and warm affections.

”

“I mean to be too rich to lament or to feel anything of the sort.

A large income is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of.

It certainly may secure all the myrtle and turkey part of it.”

Be honest and poor, by all means—but I shall not envy you; I do not much think I shall even respect you.

I have a much greater respect for those that are honest and rich.

”

“But I do look down upon it, if it might have been higher.

I must look down upon anything contented with obscurity when it might rise to distinction.

”

“Walk!” repeated Sir Thomas, in a tone of most unanswerable dignity, and coming farther into the room. “

My niece walk to a dinner engagement at this time of the year! Will twenty minutes after four suit you?

”

“

A woman can never be too fine while she is all in white.

No, I see no finery about you; nothing but what is perfectly proper. Your gown seems very pretty. I like these glossy spots. Has not Miss Crawford a gown something the same?”

His sister tried to laugh off her feelings by saying, “

Nothing amuses me more than the easy manner with which everybody settles the abundance of those who have a great deal less than themselves.

You would look rather blank, Henry, if your menus plaisirs were to be limited to seven hundred a year.”

I never was so long in company with a girl in my life, trying to entertain her, and succeed so ill! Never met with a girl who looked so grave on me! I must try to get the better of this.

Her looks say, ‘I will not like you, I am determined not to like you’; and I say she shall.

”

and it must be by a long and unnatural estrangement, by a divorce which no subsequent connection can justify, if such precious remains of the earliest attachments are ever entirely outlived. Too often, alas! it is so.

Fraternal love, sometimes almost everything, is at others worse than nothing.

But with William and Fanny Price it was still a sentiment in all its prime and freshness, wounded by no opposition of interest, cooled by no separate attachment, and feeling the influence of time and absence only in its increase.

and even Lady Bertram could not hear of such horrors unmoved, or without sometimes lifting her eyes from her work to say, “

Dear me! how disagreeable! I wonder anybody can ever go to sea.

”

“

Oh dear, yes! very entertaining indeed. A very odd game. I do not know what it is all about. I am never to see my cards; and Mr. Crawford does all the rest.

”

“No, Fanny, that I do not. I shall have enough of Portsmouth and of dancing too, when I cannot have you. And I do not know that there would be any good in going to the assembly, for I might not get a partner.

The Portsmouth girls turn up their noses at anybody who has not a commission. One might as well be nothing as a midshipman.

One is nothing, indeed. You remember the Gregorys; they are grown up amazing fine girls, but they will hardly speak to me, because Lucy is courted by a lieutenant.”

it was impossible that she ever should receive another so perfectly gratifying in the occasion and the style. Two lines more prized had never fallen from the pen of the most distinguished author—never more completely blessed the researches of the fondest biographer.

The enthusiasm of a woman’s love is even beyond the biographer’s.

To her, the handwriting itself, independent of anything it may convey, is a blessedness. Never were such characters cut by any other human being as Edmund’s commonest handwriting gave! This specimen, written in haste as it was, had not a fault;

Two lines more prized had never fallen from the pen of the most distinguished author—never more completely blessed the researches of the fondest biographer. The enthusiasm of a woman’s love is even beyond the biographer’s.

To her, the handwriting itself, independent of anything it may convey, is a blessedness.

Never were such characters cut by any other human being as Edmund’s commonest handwriting gave! This specimen, written in haste as it was, had not a fault;

His mind was fagged, and her happiness sprung from being the friend with whom it could find repose. “I am worn out with civility,” said he. “I have been talking incessantly all night, and with nothing to say.

But with you, Fanny, there may be peace.

You will not want to be talked to. Let us have the luxury of silence.” Fanny would hardly even speak her agreement.

They had talked, and they had been silent; he had reasoned, she had ridiculed; and they had parted at last with mutual vexation. Fanny, not able to refrain entirely from observing them, had seen enough to be tolerably satisfied.

It was barbarous to be happy when Edmund was suffering.

Yet some happiness must and would arise from the very conviction that he did suffer.

But it is very foolish to ask questions about any young ladies—about any three sisters just grown up; for one knows, without being told, exactly what they are: all very accomplished and pleasing, and one very pretty.

There is a beauty in every family; it is a regular thing.

Two play on the pianoforte, and one on the harp; and all sing, or would sing if they were taught, or sing all the better for not being taught; or something like it.”

Miss Crawford turned her eye on her, as if wanting to hear or see more, and then laughingly said, “

Oh yes! missed as every noisy evil is missed when it is taken away; that is, there is a great difference felt.

But I am not fishing; don’t compliment me. If I am missed, it will appear. I may be discovered by those who want to see me. I shall not be in any doubtful, or distant, or unapproachable region.”

what will she say now? The delight of all the family, indeed! And she has some true friends in it! How they will rejoice! But tell me all about it! Talk to me forever. When did you begin to think seriously about her?”

Nothing could be more impossible than to answer such a question, though nothing could be more agreeable than to have it asked.

“How the pleasing plague had stolen on him” he could not say;

but she was very glad she had contributed her mite towards it.”

“I am glad you gave him something considerable,” said Lady Bertram, with most unsuspicious calmness, “for I gave him only £10.”

“Indeed!” cried Mrs. Norris, reddening. “Upon my word, he must have gone off with his pockets well lined, and at no expense for his journey to London either!”

they cannot help it; and you know it makes very little difference to Sir Thomas. Fanny, William must not forget my shawl if he goes to the East Indies; and I shall give him a commission for anything else that is worth having.

I wish he may go to the East Indies, that I may have my shawl. I think I will have two shawls, Fanny.

”

and he had so much delight in the idea of obliging her to love him in a very short time, that her not loving him now was scarcely regretted.

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

He rather derived spirits from it. He had been apt to gain hearts too easily. His situation was new and animating.

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

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

Her diffidence, gratitude, and softness made every expression of indifference seem almost an effort of self-denial; seem, at least, to be giving nearly as much pain to herself as to him. Mr. Crawford was no longer the Mr.

Crawford’s attachment would hold out forever; she could not but imagine that steady, unceasing discouragement from herself would put an end to it in time. How much time she might, in her own fancy, allot for its dominion, is another concern.

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

In spite of his intended silence, Sir Thomas found himself once more obliged to mention the subject to his niece, to prepare her briefly for its being imparted to her aunts;

though, on Fanny’s account, he almost dreaded the effect of the communication 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 from classing Mrs. Norris as one of those well-meaning people who are always doing mistaken and very disagreeable things.

Mrs. Norris, however, relieved him. He pressed for the strictest forbearance and silence towards their niece; she not only promised, but did observe it. She only looked her increased ill-will. Angry she was: bitterly angry;

“Well, Fanny, I have had a very agreeable surprise this morning. I must just speak of it once, I told Sir Thomas I must once, and then I shall have done. I give you joy, my dear niece.” And looking at her complacently, she added,

“Humph, we certainly are a handsome family!”

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

And you know you had Chapman to help you to dress. I am very glad I sent Chapman to you. I shall tell Sir Thomas that I am sure it was done that evening.” And still pursuing the same cheerful thoughts, she soon afterwards added,

“And I will tell you what, Fanny, which is more than I did for Maria: the next time Pug has a litter you shall have a puppy.”

“but I do not think I have had a volume of Shakespeare in my hand before since I was fifteen. I once saw Henry the Eighth acted, or I have heard of it from somebody who did, I am not certain which.

But Shakespeare one gets acquainted with without knowing how. It is a part of an Englishman’s constitution.

His thoughts and beauties are so spread abroad that one touches them everywhere; one is intimate with him by instinct. No man of any brain can open at a good part of one of his plays without falling into the flow of his meaning immediately.”

Both gentlemen had a glance at Fanny, to see if a word of accordant praise could be extorted from her; yet both feeling that it could not be.

Her praise had been given in her attention; that must content them.

Lady Bertram’s admiration was expressed, and strongly too. “It was really like being at a play,” said she. “I wish Sir Thomas had been here.”

“Ah! I cannot deny it. He has now and then been a sad flirt, and cared very little for the havoc he might be making in young ladies’ affections.

I have often scolded him for it, but it is his only fault; and there is this to be said, that very few young ladies have any affections worth caring for.

And then, Fanny, the glory of fixing one who has been shot at by so many; of having it in one’s power to pay off the debts of one’s sex! Oh! I am sure it is not in woman’s nature to refuse such a triumph.”

I have often scolded him for it, but it is his only fault; and there is this to be said, that very few young ladies have any affections worth caring for.

And then, Fanny, the glory of fixing one who has been shot at by so many; of having it in one’s power to pay off the debts of one’s sex!

Oh! I am sure it is not in woman’s nature to refuse such a triumph.”

but it was impossible for her to refuse the correspondence; it was impossible for her even not to accede to it more readily than her own judgment authorised. There was no resisting so much apparent affection.

Her disposition was peculiarly calculated to value a fond treatment, and from having hitherto known so little of it, she was the more overcome by Miss Crawford’s.

Besides, there was gratitude towards her, for having made their tête-à-tête so much less painful than her fears had predicted.

… that a little abstinence from the elegancies and luxuries of Mansfield Park would bring her mind into a sober state, and incline her to a juster estimate of the value of 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 wealth and plenty had a little disordered her powers of comparing and judging. Her father’s house would, in all probability, teach her the value of a good income;

That a letter from Edmund should be a subject of terror! She began to feel that she had not yet gone through all the changes of opinion and sentiment which the progress of time and variation of circumstances occasion in this world of changes.

The vicissitudes of the human mind had not yet been exhausted by her.

Poor Fanny! though going as she did willingly and eagerly, the last evening at Mansfield Park must still be wretchedness. Her heart was completely sad at parting. She had tears for every room in the house, much more for every beloved inhabitant.

Her disposition was naturally easy and indolent, like Lady Bertram’s; and a situation of similar affluence and do-nothingness would have been much more suited to her capacity than the exertions and self-denials of the one which her imprudent marriage had placed her in.

She might have made just as good a woman of consequence as Lady Bertram, but Mrs. Norris would have been a more respectable mother of nine children on a small income.

Much of all this Fanny could not but be sensible of.

She ought to do better. A poor honourable is no catch, and I cannot imagine any liking in the case, for take away his rants, and the poor baron has nothing.

What a difference a vowel makes! If his rents were but equal to his rants!

Your cousin Edmund moves slowly; detained, perchance, by parish duties. There may be some old woman at Thornton Lacey to be converted. I am unwilling to fancy myself neglected for a young one. Adieu! my dear sweet Fanny, this is a long letter from London:

she wrote again and again; they were receiving frequent accounts from Edmund, and these accounts were as regularly transmitted to Fanny, in the same diffuse style, and the same medley of trusts, hopes, and fears, all following and producing each other at haphazard.

It was a sort of playing at being frightened.

The sufferings which Lady Bertram did not see had little power over her fancy; and she wrote very comfortably about agitation, and anxiety, and poor invalids, till Tom was actually conveyed to Mansfield, and her own eyes had beheld his altered appearance.

the word had been very dear to her, and so it still was, but it must be applied to Mansfield. That was now the home.

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:

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

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

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

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

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

She sat in a blaze of oppressive heat, in a cloud of moving dust, and her eyes could only wander from the walls, marked by her father’s head, to the table cut and notched by her brothers, where stood the teaboard never thoroughly cleaned, the …

Never had Fanny more wanted a cordial. Never had she felt such a one as this letter contained. Tomorrow! to leave Portsmouth tomorrow!

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

The evil which brought such good to her! She dreaded lest she should learn to be insensible of it.

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

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

Employment, even melancholy, may dispel melancholy, and her occupations were hopeful. She had so much to do, that not even the horrible story of Mrs. Rushworth—now fixed to the last point of certainty could affect her as it had done before.

… that he saw nothing—of the tranquil manner in which the daughters were parted with, and just in time to prevent their sitting down to the breakfast-table, which, by dint of much unusual activity, was quite and completely ready as the carriage drove from the door.

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

How her heart swelled with joy and gratitude as she passed the barriers of Portsmouth, and how Susan’s face wore its broadest smiles, may be easily conceived. Sitting forwards, however, and screened by her bonnet, those smiles were unseen.

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

Dear Fanny! now I shall be comfortable.

”