@@@@@ Had Fanny been at all addicted to raptures,
@@@@@
Had Fanny been at all addicted to raptures, she must have had a
strong attack of them when she first understood what was intended,
when her uncle first made her the offer of 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 of her
infancy, with William for the protector and companion of her journey,
and the certainty of continuing to see William to the last hour
of his remaining on landHad she ever given way to bursts of delight,
it must have been then, for she was delighted, but her happiness
was of a quiet, deep, heart-swelling sort; and though never a
great talker, she was always more inclined to silence when feeling
most stronglyAt the moment she could only thank and accept
Afterwards, when familiarised with the visions of enjoyment so suddenly
opened, she could speak more largely to William and Edmund
of what she felt; but still there were emotions of tenderness that
could not be clothed in wordsThe remembrance of all her earliest
pleasures, and of what she had suffered in being torn from them,
came over her with renewed strength, and it seemed as if to be at
home again would heal every pain that had since grown out of the
separationTo 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 feel herself the equal of those who
surrounded her; to be at peace from all mention of the Crawfords,
safe from every look which could be fancied a reproach on their
accountThis was a prospect to be dwelt on with a fondness that
could be but half acknowledged
Edmund, too—to be two months from him (and perhaps she
might be allowed to make her absence three) must do her goodAt
a distance, unassailed by his looks or his kindness, and safe from the
perpetual irritation of knowing his heart, and striving to avoid his
322
Mansfield Park
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 wretchednessWhat might have been hard
to bear at Mansfield was to become a slight evil at Portsmouth
The only drawback was the doubt of her aunt Bertram’s being comfortable
without herShe was of use to no one else; but there she
might be missed to a degree that she did not like to think of; and that
part of the arrangement was, indeed, the hardest for Sir Thomas to
accomplish, and what only he could have accomplished at all
But he was master at Mansfield ParkWhen he had really resolved
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 sometimes seeing 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 than that
Sir Thomas thought Fanny ought to go, and therefore that she must
In the calmness of her own dressing-room, in the impartial flow of
her own meditations, unbiassed by his bewildering statements, she
could not acknowledge any necessity for Fanny’s ever going near a
father and mother who had done without her so long, while she was
so useful to herself And as to the not missing her, which under Mrs
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 goodness and selfcommand
as suchNorris wanted to persuade her that
Fanny could be very well spared—she being ready 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 miss her very much
The next step was to communicate with PortsmouthFanny wrote
to offer herself; and her mother’s answer, though short, was so kind—
a few simple lines expressed so natural and motherly a joy in the
prospect of seeing her child again, as to confirm all the daughter’s
views of happiness in being with her—convincing her that she should
now find a warm and affectionate friend in the “mama” who had
323
Jane Austen
certainly shewn no remarkable fondness for her formerly; but this
she could easily suppose to have been her own fault or her own
fancyShe had probably alienated love by the helplessness and fretfulness
of a fearful temper, or been unreasonable in wanting a larger
share than any one among so many could deserveNow, when she
knew better how to be useful, and how to forbear, and when her
mother could be no longer occupied by the incessant 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
ought to be to each o