Mansfield Park. Джейн Остин

never yet turned the page in a letter; and very often it is nothing more than—“Dear Mary, I am just arrived. Bath seems full, and everything as usual. Yours sincerely.” That is the true manly style; that is a complete brother’s letter.’

      ‘When they are at a distance from all their family,’ said Fanny, colouring for William’s sake, ‘they can write long letters.’

      ‘Miss Price has a brother at sea,’ said Edmund, ‘whose excellence as a correspondent makes her think you too severe upon us.’

      ‘At sea, has she? In the King’s service, of course?’

      Fanny would rather have had Edmund tell the story, but his determined silence obliged her to relate her brother’s situation; her voice was animated in speaking of his profession, and the foreign stations he had been on; but she could not mention the number of years that he had been absent without tears in her eyes. Miss Crawford civilly wished him an early promotion.

      ‘Do you know anything of my cousin’s captain?’ said Edmund; ‘Captain Marshall? You have a large acquaintance in the navy, I conclude?’

      ‘Among admirals, large enough; but,’ with an air of grandeur, ‘we know very little of the inferior ranks. Post-captains may be very good sort of men, but they do not belong to us. Of various admirals I could tell you a great deal; of them and their flags, and the gradation of their pay, and their bickerings and jealousies. But, in general, I can assure you that they are all passed over, and all very ill used. Certainly, my home at my uncle’s brought me acquainted with a circle of admirals. Of Rears and Vices, I saw enough. Now do not be suspecting me of a pun, I entreat.’

      Edmund again felt grave, and only replied, ‘It is a noble profession.’

      ‘Yes, the profession is well enough under two circumstances; if it make the fortune, and there be discretion in spending it; but, in short, it is not a favourite profession of mine. It has never worn an amiable form to me.’

      Edmund reverted to the harp, and was again very happy in the prospect of hearing her play.

      The subject of improving grounds, meanwhile, was still under consideration among the others; and Mrs Grant could not help addressing her brother, though it was calling his attention from Miss Julia Bertram. ‘My dear Henry, have you nothing to say? You have been an improver yourself, and from what I hear of Everingham, it may vie with any place in England. Its natural beauties, I am sure, are great. Everingham, as it used to be, was perfect in my estimation; such a happy fall of ground, and such timber! What would I not give to see it again.’

      ‘Nothing could be so gratifying to me as to hear your opinion of it,’ was his answer; ‘but I fear there would be some disappointment: you would not find it equal to your present ideas. In extent, it is a mere nothing; you would be surprised at its insignificance; and, as for improvement, there was very little for me to do—too little; I should like to have been busy much longer.’

      ‘You are fond of the sort of thing?’ said Julia.

      ‘Excessively; but what with the natural advantages of the ground, which pointed out, even to a very young eye, what little remained to be done, and my own consequent resolutions, I had not been of age three months before Everingham was all that it is now. My plan was laid at Westminster, a little altered, perhaps, at Cambridge, and at one-and-twenty executed. I am inclined to envy Mr Rushworth for having so much happiness yet before him. I have been a devourer of my own.’

      ‘Those who see quickly, will resolve quickly, and act quickly,’ said Julia. ‘You can never want employment. Instead of envying Mr Rushworth, you should assist him with your opinion.’

      Mrs Grant, hearing the latter part of this speech, enforced it warmly; persuaded that no judgment could be equal to her brother’s; and as Miss Bertram caught at the idea likewise, and gave it her full support, declaring that, in her opinion, it was infinitely better to consult with friends and disinterested advisers, than immediately to throw the business into the hands of a professional man, Mr Rushworth was very ready to request the favour of Mr Crawford’s assistance; and Mr Crawford, after properly depreciating his own abilities, was quite at his service in any way that could be useful. Mr Rushworth then began to propose Mr Crawford’s doing him the honour of coming over to Sotherton, and taking a bed there; when Mrs Norris, as if reading in her two nieces’ minds their little approbation of a plan which was to take Mr Crawford away, interposed with an amendment.

      ‘There can be no doubt of Mr Crawford’s willingness; but why should not more of us go? Why should not we make a little party? Here are many that would be interested in your improvements, my dear Mr Rushworth, and that would like to hear Mr Crawford’s opinion on the spot, and that might be of some small use to you with their opinions; and for my own part, I have been long wishing to wait upon your good mother again; nothing but having no horses of my own would have made me so remiss; but now I could go and sit a few hours with Mrs Rushworth, while the rest of you walked about and settled things, and then we would all return to a late dinner here, or dine at Sotherton, just as might be most agreeable to your mother, and have a pleasant drive home by moonlight. I dare say Mr Crawford would take my two nieces and me in his barouche, and Edmund can go on horseback, you know, sister, and Fanny will stay at home with you.’

      Lady Bertram made no objection; and every one concerned in the going was forward in expressing their ready concurrence, excepting Edmund, who heard it all and said nothing.

       CHAPTER 7

      ‘Well, Fanny, and how do you like Miss Crawford now?’ said Edmund the next day, after thinking some time on the subject himself. ‘How did you like her yesterday?’

      ‘Very well—very much. I like to hear her talk. She entertains me; and she is so extremely pretty, that I have great pleasure in looking at her.’

      ‘Is it her countenance that is so attractive? She has a wonderful play of feature! But was there nothing in her conversation that struck you, Fanny, as not quite right?’

      ‘Oh, yes! she ought not to have spoken of her uncle as she did. I was quite astonished. An uncle with whom she has been living so many years, and who, whatever his faults may be, is so very fond of her brother, treating him, they say, quite like a son. I could not have believed it!’

      ‘I thought you would be struck. It was very wrong; very indecorous.’

      ‘And very ungrateful, I think.’

      ‘Ungrateful is a strong word. I do not know that her uncle has any claim to her gratitude; his wife certainly had; and it is the warmth of her respect for her aunt’s memory which misleads her here. She is awkwardly circumstanced. With such warm feelings and lively spirits it must be difficult to do justice to her affection for Mrs Crawford, without throwing a shade on the Admiral. I do not pretend to know which was most to blame in their disagreements, though the Admiral’s present conduct might incline one to the side of his wife; but it is natural and amiable that Miss Crawford should acquit her aunt entirely. I do not censure her opinions: but there certainly is impropriety in making them public.’

      ‘Do not you think,’ said Fanny, after a little consideration, ‘that this impropriety is a reflection itself upon Mrs Crawford, as her niece has been entirely brought up by her? She cannot have given her right notions of what was due to the Admiral.’

      ‘That is a fair remark. Yes, we must suppose the faults of the niece to have been those of the aunt; and it makes one more sensible of the disadvantages she has been under. But I think her present home must do her good. Mrs Grant’s manners are just what they ought to be. She speaks of her brother with a very pleasing affection.’

      ‘Yes, except as to his writing her such short letters. She made me almost laugh; but I cannot rate so very highly the love or good nature of a brother, who will not give himself the trouble of writing anything worth reading to his sisters, when they are separated. I am sure William