<h2><SPAN name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"></SPAN>CHAPTER XII</h2>
<p>Sir Thomas was to return in November, and his eldest son had duties to call him
earlier home. The approach of September brought tidings of Mr. Bertram, first
in a letter to the gamekeeper and then in a letter to Edmund; and by the end of
August he arrived himself, to be gay, agreeable, and gallant again as occasion
served, or Miss Crawford demanded; to tell of races and Weymouth, and parties
and friends, to which she might have listened six weeks before with some
interest, and altogether to give her the fullest conviction, by the power of
actual comparison, of her preferring his younger brother.</p>
<p>It was very vexatious, and she was heartily sorry for it; but so it was; and so
far from now meaning to marry the elder, she did not even want to attract him
beyond what the simplest claims of conscious beauty required: his lengthened
absence from Mansfield, without anything but pleasure in view, and his own will
to consult, made it perfectly clear that he did not care about her; and his
indifference was so much more than equalled by her own, that were he now to
step forth the owner of Mansfield Park, the Sir Thomas complete, which he was
to be in time, she did not believe she could accept him.</p>
<p>The season and duties which brought Mr. Bertram back to Mansfield took Mr.
Crawford into Norfolk. Everingham could not do without him in the beginning of
September. He went for a fortnight—a fortnight of such dullness to the
Miss Bertrams as ought to have put them both on their guard, and made even
Julia admit, in her jealousy of her sister, the absolute necessity of
distrusting his attentions, and wishing him not to return; and a fortnight of
sufficient leisure, in the intervals of shooting and sleeping, to have
convinced the gentleman that he ought to keep longer away, had he been more in
the habit of examining his own motives, and of reflecting to what the
indulgence of his idle vanity was tending; but, thoughtless and selfish from
prosperity and bad example, he would not look beyond the present moment. The
sisters, handsome, clever, and encouraging, were an amusement to his sated
mind; and finding nothing in Norfolk to equal the social pleasures of
Mansfield, he gladly returned to it at the time appointed, and was welcomed
thither quite as gladly by those whom he came to trifle with further.</p>
<p>Maria, with only Mr. Rushworth to attend to her, and doomed to the repeated
details of his day’s sport, good or bad, his boast of his dogs, his
jealousy of his neighbours, his doubts of their qualifications, and his zeal
after poachers, subjects which will not find their way to female feelings
without some talent on one side or some attachment on the other, had missed Mr.
Crawford grievously; and Julia, unengaged and unemployed, felt all the right of
missing him much more. Each sister believed herself the favourite. Julia might
be justified in so doing by the hints of Mrs. Grant, inclined to credit what
she wished, and Maria by the hints of Mr. Crawford himself. Everything returned
into the same channel as before his absence; his manners being to each so
animated and agreeable as to lose no ground with either, and just stopping
short of the consistence, the steadiness, the solicitude, and the warmth which
might excite general notice.</p>
<p>Fanny was the only one of the party who found anything to dislike; but since
the day at Sotherton, she could never see Mr. Crawford with either sister
without observation, and seldom without wonder or censure; and had her
confidence in her own judgment been equal to her exercise of it in every other
respect, had she been sure that she was seeing clearly, and judging candidly,
she would probably have made some important communications to her usual
confidant. As it was, however, she only hazarded a hint, and the hint was lost.
“I am rather surprised,” said she, “that Mr. Crawford should
come back again so soon, after being here so long before, full seven weeks; for
I had understood he was so very fond of change and moving about, that I thought
something would certainly occur, when he was once gone, to take him elsewhere.
He is used to much gayer places than Mansfield.”</p>
<p>“It is to his credit,” was Edmund’s answer; “and I dare
say it gives his sister pleasure. She does not like his unsettled
habits.”</p>
<p>“What a favourite he is with my cousins!”</p>
<p>“Yes, his manners to women are such as must please. Mrs. Grant, I
believe, suspects him of a preference for Julia; I have never seen much symptom
of it, but I wish it may be so. He has no faults but what a serious attachment
would remove.”</p>
<p>“If Miss Bertram were not engaged,” said Fanny cautiously, “I
could sometimes almost think that he admired her more than Julia.”</p>
<p>“Which is, perhaps, more in favour of his liking Julia best, than you,
Fanny, may be aware; for I believe it often happens that a man, before he has
quite made up his own mind, will distinguish the sister or intimate friend of
the woman he is really thinking of more than the woman herself. Crawford has
too much sense to stay here if he found himself in any danger from Maria; and I
am not at all afraid for her, after such a proof as she has given that her
feelings are not strong.”</p>
<p>Fanny supposed she must have been mistaken, and meant to think differently in
future; but with all that submission to Edmund could do, and all the help of
the coinciding looks and hints which she occasionally noticed in some of the
others, and which seemed to say that Julia was Mr. Crawford’s choice, she
knew not always what to think. She was privy, one evening, to the hopes of her
aunt Norris on the subject, as well as to her feelings, and the feelings of
Mrs. Rushworth, on a point of some similarity, and could not help wondering as
she listened; and glad would she have been not to be obliged to listen, for it
was while all the other young people were dancing, and she sitting, most
unwillingly, among the chaperons at the fire, longing for the re-entrance of
her elder cousin, on whom all her own hopes of a partner then depended. It was
Fanny’s first ball, though without the preparation or splendour of many a
young lady’s first ball, being the thought only of the afternoon, built
on the late acquisition of a violin player in the servants’ hall, and the
possibility of raising five couple with the help of Mrs. Grant and a new
intimate friend of Mr. Bertram’s just arrived on a visit. It had,
however, been a very happy one to Fanny through four dances, and she was quite
grieved to be losing even a quarter of an hour. While waiting and wishing,
looking now at the dancers and now at the door, this dialogue between the two
above-mentioned ladies was forced on her—</p>
<p>“I think, ma’am,” said Mrs. Norris, her eyes directed towards
Mr. Rushworth and Maria, who were partners for the second time, “we shall
see some happy faces again now.”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am, indeed,” replied the other, with a stately
simper, “there will be some satisfaction in looking on <i>now</i>, and I
think it was rather a pity they should have been obliged to part. Young folks
in their situation should be excused complying with the common forms. I wonder
my son did not propose it.”</p>
<p>“I dare say he did, ma’am. Mr. Rushworth is never remiss. But dear
Maria has such a strict sense of propriety, so much of that true delicacy which
one seldom meets with nowadays, Mrs. Rushworth—that wish of avoiding
particularity! Dear ma’am, only look at her face at this moment; how
different from what it was the two last dances!”</p>
<p>Miss Bertram did indeed look happy, her eyes were sparkling with pleasure, and
she was speaking with great animation, for Julia and her partner, Mr. Crawford,
were close to her; they were all in a cluster together. How she had looked
before, Fanny could not recollect, for she had been dancing with Edmund
herself, and had not thought about her.</p>
<p>Mrs. Norris continued, “It is quite delightful, ma’am, to see young
people so properly happy, so well suited, and so much the thing! I cannot but
think of dear Sir Thomas’s delight. And what do you say, ma’am, to
the chance of another match? Mr. Rushworth has set a good example, and such
things are very catching.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Rushworth, who saw nothing but her son, was quite at a loss.</p>
<p>“The couple above, ma’am. Do you see no symptoms there?”</p>
<p>“Oh dear! Miss Julia and Mr. Crawford. Yes, indeed, a very pretty match.
What is his property?”</p>
<p>“Four thousand a year.”</p>
<p>“Very well. Those who have not more must be satisfied with what they
have. Four thousand a year is a pretty estate, and he seems a very genteel,
steady young man, so I hope Miss Julia will be very happy.”</p>
<p>“It is not a settled thing, ma’am, yet. We only speak of it among
friends. But I have very little doubt it <i>will</i> be. He is growing
extremely particular in his attentions.”</p>
<p>Fanny could listen no farther. Listening and wondering were all suspended for a
time, for Mr. Bertram was in the room again; and though feeling it would be a
great honour to be asked by him, she thought it must happen. He came towards
their little circle; but instead of asking her to dance, drew a chair near her,
and gave her an account of the present state of a sick horse, and the opinion
of the groom, from whom he had just parted. Fanny found that it was not to be,
and in the modesty of her nature immediately felt that she had been
unreasonable in expecting it. When he had told of his horse, he took a
newspaper from the table, and looking over it, said in a languid way, “If
you want to dance, Fanny, I will stand up with you.” With more than equal
civility the offer was declined; she did not wish to dance. “I am glad of
it,” said he, in a much brisker tone, and throwing down the newspaper
again, “for I am tired to death. I only wonder how the good people can
keep it up so long. They had need be <i>all</i> in love, to find any amusement
in such folly; and so they are, I fancy. If you look at them you may see they
are so many couple of lovers—all but Yates and Mrs. Grant—and,
between ourselves, she, poor woman, must want a lover as much as any one of
them. A desperate dull life hers must be with the doctor,” making a sly
face as he spoke towards the chair of the latter, who proving, however, to be
close at his elbow, made so instantaneous a change of expression and subject
necessary, as Fanny, in spite of everything, could hardly help laughing at.
“A strange business this in America, Dr. Grant! What is your opinion? I
always come to you to know what I am to think of public matters.”</p>
<p>“My dear Tom,” cried his aunt soon afterwards, “as you are
not dancing, I dare say you will have no objection to join us in a rubber;
shall you?” Then leaving her seat, and coming to him to enforce the
proposal, added in a whisper, “We want to make a table for Mrs.
Rushworth, you know. Your mother is quite anxious about it, but cannot very
well spare time to sit down herself, because of her fringe. Now, you and I and
Dr. Grant will just do; and though <i>we</i> play but half-crowns, you know,
you may bet half-guineas with <i>him</i>.”</p>
<p>“I should be most happy,” replied he aloud, and jumping up with
alacrity, “it would give me the greatest pleasure; but that I am this
moment going to dance. Come, Fanny,” taking her hand, “do not be
dawdling any longer, or the dance will be over.”</p>
<p>Fanny was led off very willingly, though it was impossible for her to feel much
gratitude towards her cousin, or distinguish, as he certainly did, between the
selfishness of another person and his own.</p>
<p>“A pretty modest request upon my word,” he indignantly exclaimed as
they walked away. “To want to nail me to a card-table for the next two
hours with herself and Dr. Grant, who are always quarrelling, and that poking
old woman, who knows no more of whist than of algebra. I wish my good aunt
would be a little less busy! And to ask me in such a way too! without ceremony,
before them all, so as to leave me no possibility of refusing. <i>That</i> is
what I dislike most particularly. It raises my spleen more than anything, to
have the pretence of being asked, of being given a choice, and at the same time
addressed in such a way as to oblige one to do the very thing, whatever it be!
If I had not luckily thought of standing up with you I could not have got out
of it. It is a great deal too bad. But when my aunt has got a fancy in her
head, nothing can stop her.”</p>
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