《曼斯菲尔德庄园-Mansfield Park》中英文对照 完结_派派后花园

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 20楼发表于: 2013-10-28 0

Chapter Nineteen

  How is the consternation of the party to be described? To the greater number it was a moment of absolute horror. Sir Thomas in the house! All felt the instantaneous conviction. Not a hope of imposition or mistake was harboured anywhere. Julia's looks were an evidence of the fact that made it indisputable; and after the first starts and exclamations, not a word was spoken for half a minute: each with an altered countenance was looking at some other, and almost each was feeling it a stroke the most unwelcome, most ill-timed, most appalling! Mr. Yates might consider it only as a vexatious interruption for the evening, and Mr. Rushworth might imagine it a blessing; but every other heart was sinking under some degree of self-condemnation or undefined alarm, every other heart was suggesting, "What will become of us? what is to be done now?" It was a terrible pause; and terrible to every ear were the corroborating sounds of opening doors and passing footsteps.

  Julia was the first to move and speak again. Jealousy and bitterness had been suspended: selfishness was lost in the common cause; but at the moment of her appearance, Frederick was listening with looks of devotion to Agatha's narrative, and pressing her hand to his heart; and as soon as she could notice this, and see that, in spite of the shock of her words, he still kept his station and retained her sister's hand, her wounded heart swelled again with injury, and looking as red as she had been white before, she turned out of the room, saying, "_I_ need not be afraid of appearing before him."

  Her going roused the rest; and at the same moment the two brothers stepped forward, feeling the necessity of doing something. A very few words between them were sufficient. The case admitted no difference of opinion: they must go to the drawing-room directly. Maria joined them with the same intent, just then the stoutest of the three; for the very circumstance which had driven Julia away was to her the sweetest support. Henry Crawford's retaining her hand at such a moment, a moment of such peculiar proof and importance, was worth ages of doubt and anxiety. She hailed it as an earnest of the most serious determination, and was equal even to encounter her father. They walked off, utterly heedless of Mr. Rushworth's repeated question of, "Shall I go too? Had not I better go too? Will not it be right for me to go too?" but they were no sooner through the door than Henry Crawford undertook to answer the anxious inquiry, and, encouraging him by all means to pay his respects to Sir Thomas without delay, sent him after the others with delighted haste.

  Fanny was left with only the Crawfords and Mr. Yates. She had been quite overlooked by her cousins; and as her own opinion of her claims on Sir Thomas's affection was much too humble to give her any idea of classing herself with his children, she was glad to remain behind and gain a little breathing-time. Her agitation and alarm exceeded all that was endured by the rest, by the right of a disposition which not even innocence could keep from suffering. She was nearly fainting: all her former habitual dread of her uncle was returning, and with it compassion for him and for almost every one of the party on the development before him, with solicitude on Edmund's account indescribable. She had found a seat, where in excessive trembling she was enduring all these fearful thoughts, while the other three, no longer under any restraint, were giving vent to their feelings of vexation, lamenting over such an unlooked-for premature arrival as a most untoward event, and without mercy wishing poor Sir Thomas had been twice as long on his passage, or were still in Antigua.

  The Crawfords were more warm on the subject than Mr. Yates, from better understanding the family, and judging more clearly of the mischief that must ensue. The ruin of the play was to them a certainty: they felt the total destruction of the scheme to be inevitably at hand; while Mr. Yates considered it only as a temporary interruption, a disaster for the evening, and could even suggest the possibility of the rehearsal being renewed after tea, when the bustle of receiving Sir Thomas were over, and he might be at leisure to be amused by it. The Crawfords laughed at the idea; and having soon agreed on the propriety of their walking quietly home and leaving the family to themselves, proposed Mr. Yates's accompanying them and spending the evening at the Parsonage. But Mr. Yates, having never been with those who thought much of parental claims, or family confidence, could not perceive that anything of the kind was necessary; and therefore, thanking them, said, "he preferred remaining where he was, that he might pay his respects to the old gentleman handsomely since he _was_ come; and besides, he did not think it would be fair by the others to have everybody run away."

  Fanny was just beginning to collect herself, and to feel that if she staid longer behind it might seem disrespectful, when this point was settled, and being commissioned with the brother and sister's apology, saw them preparing to go as she quitted the room herself to perform the dreadful duty of appearing before her uncle.

  Too soon did she find herself at the drawing-room door; and after pausing a moment for what she knew would not come, for a courage which the outside of no door had ever supplied to her, she turned the lock in desperation, and the lights of the drawing-room, and all the collected family, were before her. As she entered, her own name caught her ear. Sir Thomas was at that moment looking round him, and saying, "But where is Fanny? Why do not I see my little Fanny?"--and on perceiving her, came forward with a kindness which astonished and penetrated her, calling her his dear Fanny, kissing her affectionately, and observing with decided pleasure how much she was grown! Fanny knew not how to feel, nor where to look. She was quite oppressed. He had never been so kind, so _very_ kind to her in his life. His manner seemed changed, his voice was quick from the agitation of joy; and all that had been awful in his dignity seemed lost in tenderness. He led her nearer the light and looked at her again-- inquired particularly after her health, and then, correcting himself, observed that he need not inquire, for her appearance spoke sufficiently on that point. A fine blush having succeeded the previous paleness of her face, he was justified in his belief of her equal improvement in health and beauty. He inquired next after her family, especially William: and his kindness altogether was such as made her reproach herself for loving him so little, and thinking his return a misfortune; and when, on having courage to lift her eyes to his face, she saw that he was grown thinner, and had the burnt, fagged, worn look of fatigue and a hot climate, every tender feeling was increased, and she was miserable in considering how much unsuspected vexation was probably ready to burst on him.

  Sir Thomas was indeed the life of the party, who at his suggestion now seated themselves round the fire. He had the best right to be the talker; and the delight of his sensations in being again in his own house, in the centre of his family, after such a separation, made him communicative and chatty in a very unusual degree; and he was ready to give every information as to his voyage, and answer every question of his two sons almost before it was put. His business in Antigua had latterly been prosperously rapid, and he came directly from Liverpool, having had an opportunity of making his passage thither in a private vessel, instead of waiting for the packet; and all the little particulars of his proceedings and events, his arrivals and departures, were most promptly delivered, as he sat by Lady Bertram and looked with heartfelt satisfaction on the faces around him--interrupting himself more than once, however, to remark on his good fortune in finding them all at home--coming unexpectedly as he did-- all collected together exactly as he could have wished, but dared not depend on. Mr. Rushworth was not forgotten: a most friendly reception and warmth of hand-shaking had already met him, and with pointed attention he was now included in the objects most intimately connected with Mansfield. There was nothing disagreeable in Mr. Rushworth's appearance, and Sir Thomas was liking him already.

  By not one of the circle was he listened to with such unbroken, unalloyed enjoyment as by his wife, who was really extremely happy to see him, and whose feelings were so warmed by his sudden arrival as to place her nearer agitation than she had been for the last twenty years. She had been _almost_ fluttered for a few minutes, and still remained so sensibly animated as to put away her work, move Pug from her side, and give all her attention and all the rest of her sofa to her husband. She had no anxieties for anybody to cloud _her_ pleasure: her own time had been irreproachably spent during his absence: she had done a great deal of carpet-work, and made many yards of fringe; and she would have answered as freely for the good conduct and useful pursuits of all the young people as for her own. It was so agreeable to her to see him again, and hear him talk, to have her ear amused and her whole comprehension filled by his narratives, that she began particularly to feel how dreadfully she must have missed him, and how impossible it would have been for her to bear a lengthened absence.

  Mrs. Norris was by no means to be compared in happiness to her sister. Not that _she_ was incommoded by many fears of Sir Thomas's disapprobation when the present state of his house should be known, for her judgment had been so blinded that, except by the instinctive caution with which she had whisked away Mr. Rushworth's pink satin cloak as her brother-in-law entered, she could hardly be said to shew any sign of alarm; but she was vexed by the _manner_ of his return. It had left her nothing to do. Instead of being sent for out of the room, and seeing 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. Would Sir Thomas have consented to eat, she might have gone to the housekeeper with troublesome directions, and insulted the footmen with injunctions of despatch; but Sir Thomas resolutely declined all dinner: he would take nothing, nothing till tea came--he would rather wait for tea. Still Mrs. Norris was at intervals urging something different; and in the most interesting moment of his passage to England, when the alarm of a French privateer was at the height, she burst through his recital with the proposal of soup. "Sure, my dear Sir Thomas, a basin of soup would be a much better thing for you than tea. Do have a basin of soup."

  Sir Thomas could not be provoked. "Still the same anxiety for everybody's comfort, my dear Mrs. Norris," was his answer. "But indeed I would rather have nothing but tea."

  "Well, then, Lady Bertram, suppose you speak for tea directly; suppose you hurry Baddeley a little; he seems behindhand to-night." She carried this point, and Sir Thomas's narrative proceeded.

  At length there was a pause. His immediate communications were exhausted, and it seemed enough to be looking joyfully around him, now at one, now at another of the beloved circle; but the pause was not long: in the elation of her spirits Lady Bertram became talkative, and what were the sensations of her children upon hearing her say, "How do you think the young people have been amusing themselves lately, Sir Thomas? They have been acting. We have been all alive with acting."

  "Indeed! and what have you been acting?"

  "Oh! they'll tell you all about it."

  "The _all_ will soon be told," cried Tom hastily, and with affected unconcern; "but it is not worth while to bore my father with it now. You will hear enough of it to-morrow, sir. We have just been trying, by way of doing something, and amusing my mother, just within the last week, to get up a few scenes, a mere trifle. We have had such incessant rains almost since October began, that we have been nearly confined to the house for days together. I have hardly taken out a gun since the 3rd. Tolerable sport the first three days, but there has been no attempting anything since. The first day I went over Mansfield Wood, and Edmund took the copses beyond Easton, and we brought home six brace between us, and might each have killed six times as many, but we respect your pheasants, sir, I assure you, as much as you could desire. I do not think you will find your woods by any means worse stocked than they were. _I_ never saw Mansfield Wood so full of pheasants in my life as this year. I hope you will take a day's sport there yourself, sir, soon."

  For the present the danger was over, and Fanny's sick feelings subsided; but when tea was soon afterwards brought in, and Sir Thomas, getting up, said that he found that he could not be any longer in the house without just looking into his own dear room, every agitation was returning. He was gone before anything had been said to prepare him for the change he must find there; and a pause of alarm followed his disappearance. Edmund was the first to speak--

  "Something must be done," said he.

  "It is time to think of our visitors," said Maria, still feeling her hand pressed to Henry Crawford's heart, and caring little for anything else. "Where did you leave Miss Crawford, Fanny?"

  Fanny told of their departure, and delivered their message.

  "Then poor Yates is all alone," cried Tom. "I will go and fetch him. He will be no bad assistant when it all comes out."

  To the theatre he went, and reached it just in time to witness the first meeting of his father and his friend. Sir Thomas had been a good deal surprised to find candles burning in his room; and on casting his eye round it, to see other symptoms of recent habitation and a general air of confusion in the furniture. The removal of the bookcase from before the billiard-room door struck him especially, but he had scarcely more than time to feel astonished at all this, before there were sounds from the billiard-room to astonish him still farther. Some one was talking there in a very loud accent; he did not know the voice--more than talking--almost hallooing. He stepped to the door, rejoicing at that moment in having the means of immediate communication, and, opening it, found himself on the stage of a theatre, and opposed to a ranting young man, who appeared likely to knock him down backwards. At the very moment of Yates perceiving Sir Thomas, and giving perhaps the very best start he had ever given in the whole course of his rehearsals, Tom Bertram entered at the other end of the room; and never had he found greater difficulty in keeping his countenance. His father's looks of solemnity and amazement on this his first appearance on any stage, and the gradual metamorphosis of the impassioned Baron Wildenheim into the well-bred and easy Mr. Yates, making his bow and apology to Sir Thomas Bertram, was such an exhibition, such a piece of true acting, as he would not have lost upon any account. It would be the last-- in all probability--the last scene on that stage; but he was sure there could not be a finer. The house would close with the greatest eclat.

  There was little time, however, for the indulgence of any images of merriment. It was necessary for him to step forward, too, and assist the introduction, and with many awkward sensations he did his best. Sir Thomas received Mr. Yates with all the appearance of cordiality which was due to his own character, but was really as far from pleased with the necessity of the acquaintance as with the manner of its commencement. Mr. Yates's family and connexions were sufficiently known to him to render his introduction as the "particular friend," another of the hundred particular friends of his son, exceedingly unwelcome; and it needed all the felicity of being again at home, and all the forbearance it could supply, to save Sir Thomas from anger on finding himself thus bewildered in his own house, making part of a ridiculous exhibition in the midst of theatrical nonsense, and forced in so untoward a moment to admit the acquaintance of a young man whom he felt sure of disapproving, and whose easy indifference and volubility in the course of the first five minutes seemed to mark him the most at home of the two.

  Tom understood his father's thoughts, and heartily wishing he might be always as well disposed to give them but partial expression, began to see, more clearly than he had ever done before, that there might be some ground of offence, that there might be some reason for the glance his father gave towards the ceiling and stucco of the room; and that when he inquired with mild gravity after the fate of the billiard-table, he was not proceeding beyond a very allowable curiosity. A few minutes were enough for such unsatisfactory sensations on each side; and Sir Thomas having exerted himself so far as to speak a few words of calm approbation in reply to an eager appeal of Mr. Yates, as to the happiness of the arrangement, the three gentlemen returned to the drawing-room together, Sir Thomas with an increase of gravity which was not lost on all.

  "I come from your theatre," said he composedly, as he sat down; "I found myself in it rather unexpectedly. Its vicinity to my own room--but in every respect, indeed, it took me by surprise, as I had not the smallest suspicion of your acting having assumed so serious a character. It appears a neat job, however, as far as I could judge by candlelight, and does my friend Christopher Jackson credit." And then he would have changed the subject, and sipped his coffee in peace over domestic matters of a calmer hue; but Mr. Yates, without discernment to catch Sir Thomas's meaning, or diffidence, or delicacy, or discretion enough to allow him to lead the discourse while he mingled among the others with the least obtrusiveness himself, would keep him on the topic of the theatre, would torment him with questions and remarks relative to it, and finally would make him hear the whole history of his disappointment at Ecclesford. Sir Thomas listened most politely, but found much to offend his ideas of decorum, and confirm his ill-opinion of Mr. Yates's habits of thinking, from the beginning to the end of the story; and when it was over, could give him no other assurance of sympathy than what a slight bow conveyed.

  "This was, in fact, the origin of _our_ acting," said Tom, after a moment's thought. "My friend Yates brought the infection from Ecclesford, and it spread--as those things always spread, you know, sir--the faster, probably, from _your_ having so often encouraged the sort of thing in us formerly. It was like treading old ground again."

  Mr. Yates took the subject from his friend as soon as possible, and immediately gave Sir Thomas an account of what they had done and were doing: told him of the gradual increase of their views, the happy conclusion of their first difficulties, and present promising state of affairs; relating everything with so blind an interest as made him not only totally unconscious of the uneasy movements of many of his friends as they sat, the change of countenance, the fidget, the hem! of unquietness, but prevented him even from seeing the expression of the face on which his own eyes were fixed--from seeing Sir Thomas's dark brow contract as he looked with inquiring earnestness at his daughters and Edmund, dwelling particularly on the latter, and speaking a language, a remonstrance, a reproof, which _he_ felt at his heart. Not less acutely was it felt by Fanny, who had edged back her chair behind her aunt's end of the sofa, and, screened from notice herself, saw all that was passing before her. Such a look of reproach at Edmund from his father she could never have expected to witness; and to feel that it was in any degree deserved was an aggravation indeed. Sir Thomas's look implied, "On your judgment, Edmund, I depended; what have you been about?" She knelt in spirit to her uncle, and her bosom swelled to utter, "Oh, not to _him_! Look so to all the others, but not to _him_!"

  Mr. Yates was still talking. "To own the truth, Sir Thomas, we were in the middle of a rehearsal when you arrived this evening. We were going through the three first acts, and not unsuccessfully upon the whole. Our company is now so dispersed, from the Crawfords being gone home, that nothing more can be done to-night; but if you will give us the honour of your company to-morrow evening, I should not be afraid of the result. We bespeak your indulgence, you understand, as young performers; we bespeak your indulgence."

  "My indulgence shall be given, sir," replied Sir Thomas gravely, "but without any other rehearsal." And with a relenting smile, he added, "I come home to be happy and indulgent." Then turning away towards any or all of the rest, he tranquilly said, "Mr. and Miss Crawford were mentioned in my last letters from Mansfield. Do you find them agreeable acquaintance?"

  Tom was the only one at all ready with an answer, but he being entirely without particular regard for either, without jealousy either in love or acting, could speak very handsomely of both. "Mr. Crawford was a most pleasant, gentleman-like man; his sister a sweet, pretty, elegant, lively girl."

  Mr. Rushworth could be silent no longer. "I do not say he is not gentleman-like, considering; but you should tell your father he is not above five feet eight, or he will be expecting a well-looking man."

  Sir Thomas did not quite understand this, and looked with some surprise at the speaker.

  "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."

  Sir Thomas looked again, and then replied with an approving smile, "I am happy to find our sentiments on this subject so much the same. It gives me sincere satisfaction. That I should be cautious and quick-sighted, and feel many scruples which my children do _not_ feel, is perfectly natural; and equally so that my value for domestic tranquillity, for a home which shuts out noisy pleasures, should much exceed theirs. But at your time of life to feel all this, is a most favourable circumstance for yourself, and for everybody connected with you; and I am sensible of the importance of having an ally of such weight."

  Sir Thomas meant to be giving Mr. Rushworth's opinion in better words than he could find himself. He was aware that he must not expect a genius in Mr. Rushworth; but as a well-judging, steady young man, with better notions than his elocution would do justice to, he intended to value him very highly. It was impossible for many of the others not to smile. Mr. Rushworth hardly knew what to do with so much meaning; but by looking, as he really felt, most exceedingly pleased with Sir Thomas's good opinion, and saying scarcely anything, he did his best towards preserving that good opinion a little longer.

　　该如何描述这伙人惊恐失措的狼狈相呢？对大多数人来说，这是个惊骇万分的时刻。托马斯爵士已回到了家里！大家立即对此深信不疑。谁也不会认为这是讹诈或误传。从朱莉娅的表情可以看出，这是无可辩驳的事实。经过最初的张皇惊叫之后，有半分钟光景大家都一声不响，个个吓得脸蛋变了样，直瞪瞪地盯着别人，几乎人人都觉得这次打击真是太糟糕，太可怕，来得太不是时候！耶茨先生也许认为只不过是晚上的排练给令人恼火地打断了，拉什沃思先生或许认为这是幸事，但是其他人却个个沮丧，都有几分自咎之感，或莫名的惊恐。这些人都在盘算：“我们会落个什么样的下场？现在该怎么办？”一阵可怕的沉默。与此同时，每个人都听到了开门声和脚步声，足以证明大事不好，越发感到心惊胆战。
　　朱莉娅是第一个挪动脚步，第一个开口说话。嫉妒和愤懑之情暂时搁置起来，共患难中又收起了自私之心。但是，就在她来到门口的时候，弗雷德里克正在情意绵绵地倾听阿加莎的道白，把她的手压在他的心口。朱莉娅一见到这个场面，见到尽管她已宣布了这可怕的消息，弗雷德里克仍然保持原来的姿势，抓着她姐姐的手不放，她那颗受到伤害的心又给刺痛了，刚才吓白了的脸又气得通红，她转身走出房去，嘴里说：“我才用不着害怕见他呢。”
　　她这一走，众人如梦方醒。那兄弟俩同时走上前来，觉得不能按兵不动。他们之间只需几句话就足够了。这件事不容再有什么分歧：他们必须马上到客厅里去。玛丽亚抱着同样的想法跟他们一起去，而且此刻三人中数她最有勇气。原来，刚才把朱莉娅气走的那个场面，现在对她倒是最惬意的支持。在这样一个时刻，一个面对特殊考验的重要时刻，亨利·克劳福德依然握着她的手不放，足以打消她长期以来的怀疑和忧虑。她觉得这是忠贞不渝的爱的征兆，不由得心花怒放，连父亲也不怕去见了。他们只顾往外走，拉什沃思先生反复问他们：“我也去吗？我是不是最好也去？我也去是否合适？”他们理也不理。不过，他们刚走出门去，亨利·克劳福德便来回答他急迫的提问，鼓动他一定要赶紧去向托马斯爵士表示敬意，于是他便喜冲冲地紧跟着出了门。
　　这时，剧场上只剩下了范妮，还有克劳福德兄妹和耶茨先生。表哥、表姐全然不管她，她自己也不敢奢望托马斯爵士对她会像对自己的孩子们一样疼爱，因此她也乐于留在后边，定一定心。尽管事情全不怪她，但她生性正直，比其他人还要忐忑不安，提心吊胆。她快要昏过去了。她过去对姨父一贯的畏惧感又复原了；与此同时，让他眼见着这般局面，她又同情他，也同情几乎所有这帮人——而对埃德蒙的忧虑更是无法形容。她找了个座位，心里尽转着这些可怕的念头，浑身直打哆嗦。而那三人此时已无所顾忌，便发起牢骚来，埋怨托马斯爵士这么早就不期而归，真是一件倒霉透顶的事。他们毫不怜悯这可怜的人，恨不得他在路上多花一倍时间，或者还没离开安提瓜。
　　克劳福德兄妹俩比耶茨先生更了解这家人，更清楚爵士这一归来会造成什么危害，因此一谈起这件事来，也就更加激愤。他们知道戏是肯定演不成了，觉得他们的计划马上就会彻底告吹。而耶茨先生却认为这只是暂时中断，只是晚上的一场灾难而已。他甚至觉得等喝完了茶，迎接托马斯爵士的忙乱场面结束后，他可以悠闲自得地观赏时，还可以继续排练。克劳福德兄妹俩听了不禁大笑。两人很快就商定，现在最好悄悄走掉，让这家人自己去折腾。他们还建议耶茨先生随他们一起回家，在牧师住宅消磨一个晚上。可是耶茨先生过去交往的人中，没有一个把听父母的话或家人之间要赤诚当做一回事，因而也就看不出有溜之大吉的必要。于是，他谢了他们，说道：“我还是不走为好，既然老先生回来了，我要大大方方地向他表示敬意。再说，我们都溜走了也是对人家的不尊重。”
　　范妮刚刚镇定了一些，觉得继续待在这里似乎有些失敬。这时，她把这个问题想清楚了。那兄妹俩又托她代为表示歉意，她便在他们准备离去之际走出房去，去履行面见姨父的可怕使命。
　　好像一眨眼工夫，她就来到了客厅门口。她在门外停了停，想给自己鼓鼓勇气，但她知道勇气是来不了的。她硬着头皮开了门，客厅里的灯火以及那一家人，豁然出现在她眼前。她走进屋来，听见有人提到自己的名字。这时，托马斯爵士正在四下环顾，问道：“范妮呢？我怎么没看见我的小范妮？”等一看到她，便朝她走去，那个亲切劲儿，真叫她受宠若惊、刻骨铭心。他管她叫亲爱的范妮，亲切地吻她，喜不自禁地说她长了好高啊！范妮说不清自己心里是什么滋味，眼也不知道往哪里看是好。她真是百感交集。托马斯爵士从没这么亲切过，从没对她这样亲切。他的态度好像变了，由于欣喜激动的缘故，说起话来也不慢声慢气了，过去那可怕的威严似乎不见了，变得慈祥起来了。他把范妮领到灯光跟前，又一次端详她——特意问了问她身体可好，接着又自我纠正说，他实在没有必要问，因为她的外表可以充分说明问题。范妮先前那张苍白的脸上这时泛起了艳丽的红晕，托马斯爵士的看法一点也不错，她不仅增进了健康，而且出落得越来越美了。接着爵士又问起她家人的情况，特别问起威廉的情况。姨父这么和蔼可亲，范妮责备自己以前为什么不爱他，还把他从海外归来视为不幸。她鼓起勇气抬眼望着他的脸，发现他比以前瘦了，由于劳累和热带气候的缘故，人变黑了，也憔悴了。这时，她心里更是怜惜不已，并且想起来真替他难过：还不知道有多少意想不到的恼人的事在等着他。
　　一家人按照托马斯爵士的吩咐围着炉火坐下，托马斯爵士还真成了大家活力的源泉。他最有权利滔滔不绝地说话。久离家园，现在又回到家中，回到妻子儿女中间，心里一兴奋，嘴里也就特别爱说话。他想把自己漂洋过海的一桩桩见闻都讲给大家听，乐于回答两个儿子提出的每个问题，几乎是不等提问就回答。他在安提瓜的事情后来办得顺利快当，他没等着坐班轮，而是趁机搭乘一条私人轮船去了利物浦，然后直接从利物浦回到家。他坐在伯特伦夫人身边，怀着由衷的喜悦，环视着周围的一张张面庞，一股脑儿讲述了他办的大大小小的事情，他来来去去的行踪——不过，在讲述的过程中，他不止一次地夹上两句：尽管他事先没有通知，但回来后看到一家人都在这里，真是感到幸运——他在路上虽然盼望如此，但又不敢抱这样的希望。他也没有忘记拉什沃思先生，先是非常友好地接待他，跟他热情地握手，现在又对他特意关照，把他看做与曼斯菲尔德关系最密切的亲朋之一。拉什沃思先生的外表没有令人生厌的地方，托马斯爵士已经喜欢上他了。
　　这一圈人里，没有一个人像伯特伦夫人那样自始至终带着不折不扣的喜悦，倾听丈夫讲述他的经历。她看到丈夫回来真是高兴至极。丈夫的突然归来使她心花怒放，二十年来都几乎不曾这样激动过。头几分钟，她激动得几乎不知如何是好，随后依然十分兴奋，但能清醒地收起针线活，推开身边的叭儿狗，把沙发上余下的地方全腾给丈夫，并把注意力也全集中到丈夫身上。她没有为任何人担忧的事，不会给她的愉快心情投下阴影。丈夫在海外期间，她自己过着无可指摘的生活，织了不少毛毯，还织了许多花边。她不仅能坦然地为自己的行为担保，而且可以坦然地为所有的年轻人担保，保证他们个个都是行为端正，干的都是有益的事情。她现在又见到丈夫，听他谈笑风生，又悦耳又赏心，感到十分惬意。因此，她开始意识到，假如丈夫推迟归期的话，那朝思暮想的日子该有多么可怕，她怎么能忍受得了。
　　诺里斯太太绝对不如她妹妹来得快乐。她倒并非担心家里弄成这个样子，托马斯爵士知道后会责备。她已经失去了理智，刚才她妹夫进来的时候，她只是出于本能的谨慎，赶紧收起了拉什沃思先生的红缎子斗篷，此外几乎再无其他惊慌的表现。不过，托马斯爵士回来的方式却令她气恼。她被撇在一边，没起任何作用。托马斯爵士没有先请她走出房来，第一个跟他相见，然后由她把这喜讯传遍全家，他大概比较相信妻子儿女的神经受得起这场惊喜，回来后不找亲友却找管家，几乎是跟管家同时进入客厅。诺里斯太太一向相信，托马斯爵士不管回到家来还是死在外边，消息总得由她来公布于众，可她觉得自己给剥夺了这一职权。现在她想张罗一番，但又没有什么事需要她张罗。她想显示一下她的作用，但眼下什么也不需要，只需要安静和沉默。托马斯爵士要是同意吃饭，她就会去找女管家，令人讨厌地吩咐这吩咐那，并给男仆下达任务，责令他们东奔西跑。但是托马斯爵士坚决不吃晚饭，他什么都不要吃，等到喝茶时再说——等到喝茶时吃点茶点。可诺里斯太太还是不时地劝他来点什么，就在他正讲到他回归英国途中最精彩的一段，他们的船得到警报可能遇到一艘法国武装民船的时候，她突然插嘴要他喝汤。“亲爱的托马斯爵士，你喝碗汤肯定要比喝茶好得多。你就喝碗汤吧。”
　　托马斯爵士依然无动于衷。“还是那样关心大家的安适，亲爱的诺里斯太太，”他答道。“我真的只等着喝茶，别的什么都不要。”
　　“那好吧，伯特伦夫人，你这就叫上茶吧，你催一催巴德利，他今天晚上好像拖拖拉拉的。”伯特伦夫人还是照着她的意思办了，托马斯爵士继续讲他的故事。
　　最后，终于停顿了下来。托马斯爵士把一时能想到的话讲完了，便乐滋滋地环顾四周的亲人，时而看看这个，时而瞧瞧那个，似乎够他满足的了。然而沉默的时间不长。伯特伦夫人由于过于兴奋，不由得话就多起来了。她也不顾孩子们听了心里会是什么滋味，便说：“托马斯爵士，你知道这些年轻人近来在搞什么娱乐活动吗？他们在演戏。我们大家都在为演戏的事忙活。”
　　“真的啊！你们在演什么戏呀？”
　　“噢！他们会全都告诉你的。”
　　“很快会全都告诉你的，”汤姆急忙叫道，一边装出一副毫不在乎的样子。“不过，用不着现在就向父亲唠叨这件事。我们明天再向您细说吧，爸爸。我们只是在上个星期由于没事可干，想给母亲逗逗趣，排练了几场，实在算不了什么。从10月以来，几乎一直在下雨，我们差不多给连日闷在家里。从3号到今天，我简直就没动过一支熗。月初那头两天还多少打了些猎物，但随后就什么也搞不成了。头一天我去了曼斯菲尔德树林，埃德蒙去了伊斯顿那边的矮树丛，总共打回了六对野鸡。其实，我们一个人就能打六倍这么多。不过．您放心好了，我们尽量遵照您的心意，爱护您的野鸡。我想，您会发现您林子里的野鸡决不比以往少。我长到这么大，还从没见过曼斯菲尔德树林里的野鸡像今年这样多。我希望您最近能去打一天猎，爸爸。”
　　危险暂时过去了，范妮也稍微放了心。但是，不久茶上来之后，托马斯爵士站起来，说他回来了还得去看看他自己的房间，顿时人人又紧张起来。还没来得及跟他说一声房里有些变化，让他有个思想准备，他已经走了。他出去以后，客厅里的人都吓得闷声不响。埃德蒙第一个开口。
　　“必须想个办法。”他说。
　　“该想想我们的客人，”玛丽亚说。她仍然觉得自己的手被按在亨利·克劳福德的心口，对别的事情都不在乎。“范妮，你把克劳福德小姐留在哪儿了？”
　　范妮说他们走了，并把他们的话转告了一下。
　　“那只剩下可怜的耶茨一个人了，”汤姆嚷道。“我去把他领来。等事情败露以后，他还能帮我们解解围呢。”
　　汤姆向剧场走去，到了那里刚好看到他父亲和他朋友初次见面的情景。托马斯爵士看到自己房里烛光通明，再往四下一看，发现有近来被人占用的迹象，家具呈现一片杂乱无章的景象，不由得大吃一惊。尤其引他注目的，是弹子房门前的书橱给搬走了。他对这一切惊犹未定，又听到弹子房里有动静，使他越发惊异。有人在那里大声说话——他听不出是谁的声音——还不仅是说话——几乎是吆喝。他朝门口走去，当时还觉得挺高兴，反正有门相通。他一开门，发现自己竟然站在剧场的舞台上，迎面站着一个年轻人，在扯着嗓子念台词，那架势好像要把他打翻在地。就在耶茨看清了托马斯爵士，并表现出比哪次排练表演得都出色的猛地一惊时，汤姆· 伯特伦从房间的另一头进来了。有生以来，他从未觉得这样难以做到不动声色。他父亲破例第一遭上戏台，愕然板着一副面孔，惊慨激昂的维尔登海姆男爵渐渐变成了彬彬有礼、笑容可掬的耶茨先生，向托马斯·伯特伦爵士又鞠躬又道歉，那样子活像真的在演戏，他说什么也不愿错过。这将是最后一场——十有八九是这个舞台上的最后一场，不过他相信这是精彩无比的一场，全场会爆发出雷鸣般的掌声。
　　不过，他没有闲暇沉湎于惬意的想象。他必须走上前去，帮助介绍一下。尽管心里狼狈不堪，他还是尽力而为了。托马斯爵士出于他的为人之道，热情洋溢地欢迎耶茨先生，但是非要结识这样一个人，而且以这样的方式来结识，还真让他心里大为不快。其实，爵士倒也很了解耶茨先生的家人及其亲友，因此，当他儿子把耶茨先生介绍成自己“特别要好的朋友”（他上百个“特别要好的朋友”中的又一个）时，他心里反感至极。他在自己家里受到这样的捉弄，在乌七八糟的舞台上上演了这样可笑的一幕，在这样不幸的时刻被迫去认识一个他不喜欢的年轻人，而在最初五分钟里，这家伙却从容不迫满不在乎，说起话来滔滔不绝，似乎比托马斯爵士更像是这家的人，托马斯爵士只是因为刚回到家正在兴头上，对什么事都能多忍耐三分，才没有发作。
　　汤姆明白父亲是怎么想的，真心希望他始终能保持良好的心情，不要彻底发作。他现在比什么时候看得都清楚：父亲确有理由生气——他注视天花板和墙上的泥灰并非没有缘故；他也算是出于好奇，一本正经地询问弹子台到哪里去了。双方都有些不愉快，不过只持续了几分钟。耶茨先生热切地请求他对布置是否合适发表意见，他勉强地说了几句不冷不热表示赞同的话，于是三个人一起回到客厅。这时托马斯爵士更加郁郁不乐，这一点人人都注意到了。
　　“我是从你们的剧场回来的，”他坐下时平静地说道。“我役有料到会闯进剧场。紧挨着我的房间——不过真是完全出乎我的意料，我丝毫没有想到你们演得这么郑重其事。就烛光下见到的情况看来，好像布置得很漂亮，我的朋友克里斯托弗·杰克逊给你们干得不错。”随后，他本想换个话题，平心静气地边喝咖啡边聊些比较平静的家庭事务。但是，耶茨先生没有洞察力，闹不明白托马斯爵士的意思。他身为外人毫无冒昧唐突之感，一点也不畏首畏尾，不懂谦虚谨慎，不会体念别人，非要引着托马斯爵士继续谈演戏的事，拿这方面的问题和言词纠缠他，最后还把他在埃克尔斯福德遇到的扫兴的事原原本本地讲给他听。托马斯爵士客客气气地听着，但觉得耶茨先生很不懂规矩，越听越加深对他的不良印象。听完之后，只是微微鞠了个躬，没做别的表示。
　　“其实，我们的演戏就是由此引起的，”汤姆经过一番思索，说道。“我的朋友耶茨从埃克尔斯福德带来了这传染病，您知道，这类事情总是要到处感染的，因而也就感染了我们——您以前经常鼓励我们开展这种活动，所以对我们的感染就更快，就像轻车走熟路一样。”
　　耶茨先生迫不及待地从他朋友那里抢过这个话题，立即向托马斯爵士述说了他们已经做过和正在进行的事情，对他讲起了他们的计划是怎样逐步扩充的，他们起初遇到的困难是怎样圆满解决的，目前的局面如何一片大好。他讲得兴致勃勃，全然没有意识到在座的许多朋友已经坐立不安，脸上红一阵白一阵，身子动来动去，嘴里不住地咳嗽！可他对这一切全都视而不见，连他目不转睛地望着的那张面孔上的表情都看不清楚——看不见托马斯爵士在紧蹙着眉头以急切的探询的目光瞅着他的两个女儿和埃德蒙，尤其是瞅着埃德蒙，这目光像是会说话似的，形成一种责备，一种训斥，埃德蒙倒能心领神会。范妮也有同样痛切的感受，便把自己的椅子移到了姨妈的沙发后面，避开了人们的注意，但却看见了面前发生的一切。她从没料到会眼见着姨父用这种责备的目光来对待埃德蒙。她觉得根本不应该这样对待他，真为他受到这样的责备而恼火。托马斯爵士的目光是在说：“埃德蒙，我本来指望你是有主见的。你在干什么来着？”范妮的心灵跪倒在姨父面前，气鼓鼓地说道：“噢！别这样对待他。拿这种目光去看其他所有的人，但不要这样看他！”
　　耶茨先生还在滔滔不绝。“托马斯爵士，说实话，今天晚上你到家的时候，我们正在排练。我们先排练前三幕，总的说来，还不算不成功。克劳福德兄妹已经回家去了，我们的班子现在凑不齐了，今天晚上演不成了。不过明天晚上你要是肯赏光的话，我想不会有问题。您知道，我们都是年轻人演戏，请求您的包涵。我们请求您的包涵。”
　　“我会包涵的，先生，”托马斯爵士板着脸答道，“不过，不要再排练了。”接着温和地笑了笑，补充说道：“我回到家来就是想要快活，想要包涵。”随即转过脸去，像是朝着某人又像是朝着众人，平静地说道：“你们从曼斯菲尔德写给我的最后几封信中，都提到了克劳福德先生和克劳福德小姐。你们觉得和他们交往愉快吗？”
　　在场的只有汤姆一个人能爽快地回答这个问题，但他并不特别关注这两个人，无论在情场上还是在演戏上对他们都不嫉妒，因此尽可以宽怀大度地夸赞两人。“克劳福德先生举止非常文雅，很有绅士气派。他妹妹是个温柔漂亮、文雅活泼的姑娘。”
　　拉什沃思先生再也不能沉默了。“总的说来，我倒并不觉得他没有绅士气派。不过，你应该告诉你父亲，他的身高不超过五英尺八英寸，不然的话，你父亲会以为他仪表堂堂呢。”
　　托马斯爵士不大明白这番话的意思，带着几分莫名其妙的神情望着说话人。
　　“如果要我实话实说的话，”拉什沃思先生继续说道，“我觉得总是排练是很讨厌的。好东西吃多了也倒胃口。我不像一开始那样喜欢演戏了。我认为大家舒舒服服地坐在这里，什么事情也不做，要比演戏好得多。”
　　托马斯爵士又看了看他，然后赞许地笑着答道：“我很高兴发现我们在这个问题上的看法大为一致，这使我由衷地感到高兴。我应该谨慎，目光敏锐，考虑到我的孩子考虑不到的许多问题，这是理所当然的。同样理所当然的是，我应该远比他们更重视家庭的安静，重视家中不搞吵吵闹闹的娱乐。不过，你这样的年龄就有这样的想法，这对你个人，对每一个与你有关系的人来说，都是很值得称道的事。能有这样一个志同道合的人，我觉得真是难能可贵。”
　　托马斯爵士本想用更漂亮的字眼赞扬一下拉什沃思先生的见解，只可惜找不到这样的字眼。他知道他不能指望拉什沃思先生是什么天才，但觉得他是个明白是非、踏实稳重的青年，虽然不善言辞，头脑却很清楚，因此他很器重他。在座的许多人听了忍不住想笑。拉什沃思先生面对这种局面简直不知如何是好。不过，托马斯爵士的好评使他喜不自禁，他喜形于色，几乎一言不发，想尽情多玩味一下这番好评。　

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 21楼发表于: 2013-10-28 0

Chapter Twenty

  Edmund's first object the next morning was to see his father alone, and give him a fair statement of the whole acting scheme, defending his own share in it as far only as he could then, in a soberer moment, feel his motives to deserve, and acknowledging, with perfect ingenuousness, that his concession had been attended with such partial good as to make his judgment in it very doubtful. He was anxious, while vindicating himself, to say nothing unkind of the others: but there was only one amongst them whose conduct he could mention without some necessity of defence or palliation. "We have all been more or less to blame," said he, "every one of us, excepting Fanny. Fanny is the only one who has judged rightly throughout; who has been consistent. _Her_ feelings have been steadily against it from first to last. She never ceased to think of what was due to you. You will find Fanny everything you could wish."

  Sir Thomas saw all the impropriety of such a scheme among such a party, and at such a time, as strongly as his son had ever supposed he must; he felt it too much, indeed, for many words; and having shaken hands with Edmund, meant to try to lose the disagreeable impression, and forget how much he had been forgotten himself as soon as he could, after the house had been cleared of every object enforcing the remembrance, and restored to its proper state. He did not enter into any remonstrance with his other children: he was more willing to believe they felt their error than to run the risk of investigation. The reproof of an immediate conclusion of everything, the sweep of every preparation, would be sufficient.

  There was one person, however, in the house, whom he could not leave to learn his sentiments merely through his conduct. He could not help giving Mrs. Norris a hint of his having hoped that her advice might have been interposed to prevent what her judgment must certainly have disapproved. The young people had been very inconsiderate in forming the plan; they ought to have been capable of a better decision themselves; but they were young; and, excepting Edmund, he believed, of unsteady characters; and with greater surprise, therefore, he must regard her acquiescence in their wrong measures, her countenance of their unsafe amusements, than that such measures and such amusements should have been suggested. Mrs. Norris was a little confounded and as nearly being silenced as ever she had been in her life; for she was ashamed to confess having never seen any of the impropriety which was so glaring to Sir Thomas, and would not have admitted that her influence was insufficient-- that she might have talked in vain. Her only resource was to get out of the subject as fast as possible, and turn the current of Sir Thomas's ideas into a happier channel. She had a great deal to insinuate in her own praise as to _general_ attention to the interest and comfort of his family, much exertion and many sacrifices to glance at in the form of hurried walks and sudden removals from her own fireside, and many excellent hints of distrust and economy to Lady Bertram and Edmund to detail, whereby a most considerable saving had always arisen, and more than one bad servant been detected. But her chief strength lay in Sotherton. Her greatest support and glory was in having formed the connexion with the Rushworths. _There_ she was impregnable. She took to herself all the credit of bringing Mr. Rushworth's admiration of Maria to any effect. "If I had not been active," said she, "and made a point of being introduced to his mother, and then prevailed on my sister to pay the first visit, I am as certain as I sit here that nothing would have come of it; for Mr. Rushworth is the sort of amiable modest young man who wants a great deal of encouragement, and there were girls enough on the catch for him if we had been idle. But I left no stone unturned. I was ready to move heaven and earth to persuade my sister, and at last I did persuade her. You know the distance to Sotherton; it was in the middle of winter, and the roads almost impassable, but I did persuade her."

  "I know how great, how justly great, your influence is with Lady Bertram and her children, and am the more concerned that it should not have been."

  "My dear Sir Thomas, if you had seen the state of the roads _that_ day! I thought we should never have got through them, though we had the four horses of course; and poor old coachman would attend us, out of his great love and kindness, though he was hardly able to sit the box on account of the rheumatism which I had been doctoring him for ever since Michaelmas. I cured him at last; but he was very bad all the winter--and this was such a day, I could not help going to him up in his room before we set off to advise him not to venture: he was putting on his wig; so I said, 'Coachman, you had much better not go; your Lady and I shall be very safe; you know how steady Stephen is, and Charles has been upon the leaders so often now, that I am sure there is no fear.' But, however, I soon found it would not do; he was bent upon going, and as I hate to be worrying and officious, I said no more; but my heart quite ached for him at every jolt, and when we got into the rough lanes about Stoke, where, what with frost and snow upon beds of stones, it was worse than anything you can imagine, I was quite in an agony about him. And then the poor horses too! To see them straining away! You know how I always feel for the horses. And when we got to the bottom of Sandcroft Hill, what do you think I did? You will laugh at me; but I got out and walked up. I did indeed. It might not be saving them much, but it was something, and I could not bear to sit at my ease and be dragged up at the expense of those noble animals. I caught a dreadful cold, but _that_ I did not regard. My object was accomplished in the visit."

  "I hope we shall always think the acquaintance worth any trouble that might be taken to establish it. There is nothing very striking in Mr. Rushworth's manners, but I was pleased last night with what appeared to be his opinion on one subject: his decided preference of a quiet family party to the bustle and confusion of acting. He seemed to feel exactly as one could wish."

  "Yes, indeed, and the more you know of him the better you will like him. He is not a shining character, but he has a thousand good qualities; and is so disposed to look up to you, that I am quite laughed at about it, for everybody considers it as my doing. 'Upon my word, Mrs. Norris,' said Mrs. Grant the other day, 'if Mr. Rushworth were a son of your own, he could not hold Sir Thomas in greater respect.'"

  Sir Thomas gave up the point, foiled by her evasions, disarmed by her flattery; and was obliged to rest satisfied with the conviction that where the present pleasure of those she loved was at stake, her kindness did sometimes overpower her judgment.

  It was a busy morning with him. Conversation with any of them occupied but a small part of it. He had to reinstate himself in all the wonted concerns of his Mansfield life: to see his steward and his bailiff; to examine and compute, and, in the intervals of business, to walk into his stables and his gardens, and nearest plantations; but active and methodical, he had not only done all this before he resumed his seat as master of the house at dinner, he had also set the carpenter to work in pulling down what had been so lately put up in the billiard-room, and given the scene-painter his dismissal long enough to justify the pleasing belief of his being then at least as far off as Northampton. The scene-painter was gone, having spoilt only the floor of one room, ruined all the coachman's sponges, and made five of the under-servants idle and dissatisfied; and Sir Thomas was in hopes that another day or two would suffice to wipe away every outward memento of what had been, even to the destruction of every unbound copy of Lovers' Vows in the house, for he was burning all that met his eye

  Mr. Yates was beginning now to understand Sir Thomas's intentions, though as far as ever from understanding their source. He and his friend had been out with their guns the chief of the morning, and Tom had taken the opportunity of explaining, with proper apologies for his father's particularity, what was to be expected. Mr. Yates felt it as acutely as might be supposed. To be a second time disappointed in the same way was an instance of very severe ill-luck; 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 not a man to be endured but for his children's sake, and he might be thankful to his fair daughter Julia that Mr. Yates did yet mean to stay a few days longer under his roof.

  The evening passed with external smoothness, though almost every mind was ruffled; and the music which Sir Thomas called for from his daughters helped to conceal the want of real harmony. Maria was in a good deal of agitation. It was of the utmost consequence to her that Crawford should now lose no time in declaring himself, and she was disturbed that even a day should be gone by without seeming to advance that point. She had been expecting to see him the whole morning, and all the evening, too, was still expecting him. Mr. Rushworth had set off early with the great news for Sotherton; and she had fondly hoped for such an immediate _eclaircissement_ as might save him the trouble of ever coming back again. But they had seen no one from the Parsonage, not a creature, and had heard no tidings beyond a friendly note of congratulation and inquiry from Mrs. Grant to Lady Bertram. It was the first day for many, many weeks, in which the families had been wholly divided. Four-and-twenty hours had never passed before, since August began, without bringing them together in some way or other. It was a sad, anxious day; and the morrow, though differing in the sort of evil, did by no means bring less. A few moments of feverish enjoyment were followed by hours of acute suffering. Henry Crawford was again in the house: he walked up with Dr. Grant, who was anxious to pay his respects to Sir Thomas, and at rather an early hour they were ushered into the breakfast-room, where were most of the family. Sir Thomas soon appeared, and Maria saw with delight and agitation the introduction of the man she loved to her father. Her sensations were indefinable, and so were they a few minutes afterwards upon hearing Henry Crawford, who had a chair between herself and Tom, ask the latter in an undervoice whether there were any plans for resuming the play after the present happy interruption (with a courteous glance at Sir Thomas), because, in that case, he should make a point of returning to Mansfield at any time required by the party: he was going away immediately, being to meet his uncle at Bath without delay; but if there were any prospect of a renewal of Lovers' Vows, he should hold himself positively engaged, he should break through every other claim, he should absolutely condition with his uncle for attending them whenever he might be wanted. The play should not be lost by _his_ absence.

  "From Bath, Norfolk, London, York, wherever I may be," said he; "I will attend you from any place in England, at an hour's notice."

  It was well at that moment that Tom had to speak, and not his sister. He could immediately say with easy fluency, "I am sorry you are going; but as to our play, _that_ is all over--entirely at an end" (looking significantly at his father). "The painter was sent off yesterday, and very little will remain of the theatre to-morrow. I knew how _that_ would be from the first. It is early for Bath. You will find nobody there."

  "It is about my uncle's usual time."

  "When do you think of going?"

  "I may, perhaps, get as far as Banbury to-day."

  "Whose stables do you use at Bath?" was the next question; and while this branch of the subject was under discussion, Maria, who wanted neither pride nor resolution, was preparing to encounter her share of it with tolerable calmness.

  To her he soon turned, repeating much of what he had already said, with only a softened air and stronger expressions of regret. But what availed his expressions or his air? He was going, and, if not voluntarily going, voluntarily intending to stay away; for, excepting what might be due to his uncle, his engagements were all self-imposed. He might talk of necessity, but she knew his independence. The hand which had so pressed hers to his heart! the hand and the heart were alike motionless and passive now! Her spirit supported her, but the agony of her mind was severe. She had not long to endure what arose from listening to language which his actions contradicted, or to bury the tumult of her feelings under the restraint of society; for general civilities soon called his notice from her, and the farewell visit, as it then became openly acknowledged, was a very short one. 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. Henry Crawford gone, she could even pity her sister.

  With a purer spirit did Fanny rejoice in the intelligence. She heard it at dinner, and felt it a blessing. By all the others it was mentioned with regret; and his merits honoured with due gradation of feeling-- from the sincerity of Edmund's too partial regard, to the unconcern of his mother speaking entirely by rote. Mrs. Norris began to look about her, and wonder that his falling in love with Julia had come to nothing; and could almost fear that she had been remiss herself in forwarding it; but with so many to care for, how was it possible for even _her_ activity to keep pace with her wishes?

  Another day or two, and Mr. Yates was gone likewise. In _his_ departure Sir Thomas felt the chief interest: wanting to be alone with his family, the presence of a stranger superior to Mr. Yates must have been irksome; but of him, trifling and confident, idle and expensive, it was every way vexatious. In himself he was wearisome, but as the friend of Tom and the admirer of Julia he became offensive. Sir Thomas had been quite indifferent to Mr. Crawford's going or staying: but his good wishes for Mr. Yates's having a pleasant journey, as he walked with him to the hall-door, were given with genuine satisfaction. Mr. Yates had staid to see the destruction of every theatrical preparation at Mansfield, the removal of everything appertaining to the play: he left the house in all the soberness of its general character; and Sir Thomas hoped, in seeing him out of it, to be rid of the worst object connected with the scheme, and the last that must be inevitably reminding him of its existence.

  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.

　　埃德蒙第二天早晨的第一件事是单独面见父亲，向他诚实地谈谈整个演戏计划，在他头脑冷静的时候，只是从动机的角度出发，为自己在里边所起的作用进行辩护，同时坦率地承认由于他的让步并没有带来什么好的结果，这就使他原来的看法变得十分可疑。他为自己辩护的时候，又不想说别人的坏话。不过，这些人中只有一个人，其所作所为既不需要他辩护，也不需要他掩饰。“我们大家或多或少都有过失，”他说，“我们个个都有，但范妮除外。只有范妮一个人始终没错，一直坚持正确意见。她可是自始至终反对演戏的。她从没忘记应该尊重你。你会发现范妮样样都让你满意。”
　　托马斯爵士认为这样一伙人，在这样一个时候排演这样一出戏，是完全不成体统的事情，他正像他儿子料想的那样反感至极，气得都说不出话来。他和埃德蒙握了握手，心想等房子里能勾起这般记忆的样样物品被清除，原有的秩序得到恢复后，他要尽量抹去这不愉快的印象，尽量忘掉他不在期间他们如何把他置之度外。他没有去责怪他那另外三个孩子：他情愿相信他们认识到了自己的错误，而不想贸然对他们的错误刨根问底。让他们立即终止这一切，把准备演戏用的一切物品统统清理掉，对他们也是足够的惩罚了。
　　然而，这大宅里有一个人，他还不能让她仅仅通过他的行动来领会他的观点。他不能不用言语向诺里斯太太表明，他原指望她能出面阻止她明知不对的事情。那些年轻人制定计划时有欠考虑，他们本应自己做出恰当一点的决定。但是他们都很年轻，而且除了埃德蒙，他觉得都是不稳重的人。因此，他对年轻人要搞这样的活动、这样的娱乐固然感到惊讶，但他对做姨妈的默许他们去做这样的错事，支持他们去搞这种招惹是非的娱乐活动，自然更为惊讶。诺里斯太太有点心慌意乱，给说得几乎哑口无言。托马斯爵士分明觉得不成体统的事，她也不好意思说她看不出有什么不成体统的。她也不愿说她没有那么大的影响——她即使劝阻也没有人听。她唯一的办法是尽快撇开这个话题，把托马斯爵士的思路引向一个比较愉快的渠道。她可以举出大量的事例来表扬自己，例如处处关心他家人的利益和安乐，大冬天不在炉边烤火却天天跑出来为他们家奔忙，费尽了力气吃尽了苦头，向伯特伦夫人和埃德蒙提过许多极好的建议，叫他们提防仆人，注意节约开支，结果他们已经节省了大量的钱，查出了不止一个仆人手脚不干净的问题。不过，她的主要资本还是在索瑟顿。她的最大功劳和荣耀是帮他们跟拉什沃思家攀上了亲。她的这个功劳是抹杀不了的。她把拉什沃思先生看上玛丽亚全都记在她的功劳簿上。“要不是我积极主动，”她说，“非要去结识他母亲，然后又说服妹妹先去拜访人家，我敢百分之百地断定，就决不会有这样的结果。要知道，拉什沃思先生属于那种又和蔼又腼腆的年轻人，需要女方大加鼓励才行。我们要是不采取主动的话，有的是姑娘在打他的主意。不过，我可是不遗余力了。我是竭尽全力劝说妹妹，最后终于把她说服了。你知道去索瑟顿有多远。正是隆冬季节，路几乎都不通，不过我还真把她说服了。”
　　“我知道伯特伦夫人及其子女非常听你的话，也该听你的，因而我更为不安，为什么你的影响没有用到——”
　　“亲爱的托马斯爵士，你要是看到那天路上是什么样子就好啦！我当时心想，尽管我们理所当然地用上四匹马拉车，也无法把我们拉到那里。可怜的老马车夫出于一片忠心和善心，一定要给我们赶车。只不过他有关节炎，从米迦勒节①起我一直在给他治疗，他几乎都不能坐驾驶座。我最后给他治好了，可他整个冬天都犯得厉害 ——那天就是这样的，出发前我身不由己地到他房里去了一趟，劝他不要冒这个风险。他当时正往头上戴假发，于是我就说：‘马车夫，你最好不要去，夫人和我不会出什么问题的。你知道斯蒂芬很稳当，查尔斯近来也常骑领头马，我认为用不着担心。’可是我发现不行，他说什么也要去。我不喜欢瞎操心、多管闲事，便不再说什么了。但是，每次车子一颠，我就为他心痛。当车子走上斯托克附近坎坷不平的小路时，石头路面上又是霜又是雪，你想象不到有多糟糕，我真是心疼他呀。还有那些可怜的马哪！眼看着它们拼命往前拉呀！你知道我一向爱惜马。我们到了桑德克罗夫特山脚下的时候，你猜我怎么着啦？你准会笑话我——我下了车徒步往山上走。我真是走上去的。我这样做也许减轻不了多少负担，但总会减轻一点吧。我不忍心安然自得地坐在车上，让那些骏马吃力地往山上拉。我得了重感冒，可是我才不在乎这呢。我达到了这次走访的目的。”
　　“我希望我们会永远认为这家人值得费这么大力气去结交。拉什沃思先生的仪态没有什么很出众的地方，不过我昨天晚上倒很欣赏他的一个观点——他明确表示宁愿一家人安安静静地聚在一起，而不愿吵吵嚷嚷地演戏。难得他能有这样的看法。”①米迦勒节：9月29日，英国四大结账日之一。
　　“是呀，一点不错，你越了解他，就会越喜欢他。他不是个光芒四射的人物，但却有上千条的优良品质！他好敬仰你，大家为此都笑我，认为是我教他的。‘我敢担保，诺里斯太太，’格兰特太太那天说，‘即使拉什沃思先生是你的儿子，他也不可能比现在更敬仰托马斯爵士。”’
　　托马斯爵士被她的绕来绕去和甜言蜜语弄迷惑了，便放弃了自己的看法，反倒觉得虽说她不该纵容她喜爱的年轻人搞这样的娱乐活动，可那是因为她对孩子太溺爱，有时候不能明辨是非。
　　这天上午他很忙。不管跟谁谈话，都只占去很短一点时间。他要重新开始料理曼斯菲尔德的日常事务，得去见见管家和代理人——查一查，算一算——趁办事的间隙，去看看马厩、花园以及距离最近的种植园。他是个勤快人，办事又得法，还没等到又坐在一家之主的位子上吃晚饭的时候，他不仅办完了所有这一切，还让木匠拆去了弹子房里新近搭起来的舞台，而且解雇了绘景师，早已打发走了，现在想必至少到了北安普敦。绘景师走了，他只糟蹋了一个房间的地板，毁掉了马车夫的所有海绵，带坏了五个干粗活的仆人，一个个变得又懒惰又不满意。托马斯爵士希望再有一两天，就能全部清除演戏留下的一切痕迹，甚至毁掉家中所有尚未装订的《山盟海誓》剧本，他现在是看见一本烧一本。
　　耶茨先生现在开始明白托马斯爵士的用心了，但依然不理解这是出于什么缘故。他和朋友背着熗出去了大半个上午，汤姆利用这个机会对他父亲的为人苛求表示了歉意，并解释了可能会出现什么情况。耶茨先生的愤懑之情是可想而知的。连续两次遇到同样扫兴的事真是太不幸了。他极为恼火，若不是替朋友及其小妹妹着想，他定会攻击男爵做事荒唐，跟他理论一番，让他懂点道理。他在曼斯菲尔德树林里，以及回来的路上，一直坚定不移地抱着这样的想法。但是，等到大家围着同一张桌子吃饭的时候，托马斯爵士身上有一种力量使他觉得还是不问为好，让他自行其是，自识其愚。他认识过许多令人讨厌的做父亲的人，常常为他们对儿女们横遮竖拦而吃惊，但他有生以来，还从没见过哪个人像托马斯爵士这样蛮横无理，这样暴虐无道。要不是看在他儿女们的面上，他这样的人是不能令人容忍的。耶茨先生之所以还愿在他家多住几天，还得感谢他的漂亮女儿朱莉娅。
　　这天晚上，表面上看来过得平平静静，但几乎人人都心烦意乱。托马斯爵士叫两个女儿弹琴，这琴声帮助掩盖了事实上的不和谐。玛丽亚很是焦躁不安。对她来说至关重要的是，克劳福德应该立即向她表露爱慕之情。哪怕是一天白白过去了，事情仍然没有进展，她也感到惶恐。她整个上午都在盼他来——整个晚上仍在盼他。拉什沃思先生带着这里的重大新闻一早就回索瑟顿了。她天真地希望克劳福德先生立即表明心迹，这样一来，拉什沃思先生也用不着再回来了。然而，就是不见牧师住宅有人来——连个人影都见不到，也听不到那里有什么消息，只收到格兰特太太写给伯特伦夫人的一封便笺，是向她表示祝贺和问候的。这是多少个星期以来，两家人第一天彻底没有来往。自8月初起，没有哪一天他们不以某种方式聚集在一起。这是令人忧心如煎的一天。第二天带来的不幸虽然有所不同，但程度上丝毫不亚于第一天：欣喜若狂了一阵之后，紧接着是几个小时的心如刀割。亨利·克劳福德又来到了大宅。他是跟格兰特博士一起来的，格兰特博士一心想来拜望托马斯爵士，早早地就给领进了早餐厅，一家人大多都在那里。转眼间，托马斯爵士出来了，玛丽亚眼见着自己的心上人被介绍给父亲，心里又高兴又激动。她的心情真是无以言表，过了一阵之后仍然如此。当时，亨利·克劳福德坐在她和汤姆之间的一把椅子上，只听他低声问汤姆，在他们的演戏计划被眼下的喜事冲断之后（说到这里颇有礼貌地瞥了托马斯爵士一眼），是否还打算继续排演。如果继续排演，不管什么时候需要他，他都会赶回曼斯菲尔德。他马上要走了，赶紧去巴斯会见他叔父。不过，如果还可能再演《山盟海誓》，他要坚定不移地参加，要摆脱任何别的事情，要跟他叔叔明明白白地谈定，什么时候需要他，他就来参加演出。这戏决不能因为他不在就半途而废。”
　　“从巴斯、诺福克、伦敦、约克——不管我在哪儿，”他说，“我只要接到通知，一个钟头内就会动身，从英国的任何地方赶来参加你们的演出。”
　　好在当时要由汤姆来回话，而不是他妹妹。汤姆当即流利自如地说道：“很遗憾你要走了——至于我们的戏，那已经完了——彻底完了（意味深长地望望他父亲）。绘景师昨天给打发走了，剧场明天差不多就拆光了。我从一开始就知道会是这样的。现在去巴斯还早，去了见不到人。”
　　“我叔叔常在这个时候去。”
　　“你想什么时候走？”
　　“我也许今天能赶到班伯里。”
　　“你在巴斯用谁的马厩？”汤姆接着问道。两人正讨论着这个问题，这时玛丽亚出于自尊，横下心来，准备比较冷静地加入他们的讨论。
　　不久，亨利·克劳福德朝她转过脸来，把刚才对汤姆说过的好多话又重说了一遍，只不过神态比较柔和，脸上挂着更加遗憾的表情而已。但是神态和表情又有什么用呢？反正他要走了——虽然不是自愿要走，却也愿意离开这里。这里面也可能有他叔叔的意思，但他的一切约会应酬都是由他自己做主的。他嘴里尽可以说是迫不得已，但她知道他并不受制于人。把她的手压在他心口的那只手啊！那只手和那颗心现在都变僵硬了，冷冰冰了！她强打精神，但内心却十分痛苦。她一方面要忍受着听他言行不一地表白的痛苦，另一方面又要在礼仪的约束下抑制住自己翻腾着的心潮，好在这都没有持续多久，因为他还要应酬在座的众人，很快便把她撇在了一边。随即，他又公开表明他是来告别的，因而这场告别式的造访很快便结束了。他走了——最后一次触了触她的手，向她行了个临别鞠躬礼，她只能从孤独中寻求安慰。亨利·克劳福德走了——走出了这座大宅，再过两个小时还要离开这个教区。他基于自私的虚荣心在玛丽亚·伯特伦和朱莉娅·伯特伦心里激起的希望，就这样统统化为了泡影。
　　朱莉娅为他的离去而庆幸。她已经开始讨厌见到他了。既然玛丽亚没有得到他，她现在也冷静下来了，不想再去报复玛丽亚。她不想在人家遭到遗弃之后，还要揭人家的伤疤。亨利·克劳福德走了，她甚至可怜起姐姐了。
　　范妮得知这一消息后，以更纯洁的心情感到高兴。她是在吃晚饭时听说的，觉得这是件好事。别人提起这事都感到遗憾，还程度不同地夸赞克劳福德先生的好处，从埃德蒙出于偏爱诚心诚意的称赞，到他妈妈漫不经心的人云亦云。诺里斯太太环顾左右，奇怪克劳福德先生和朱莉娅谈恋爱怎么没谈成。她担心是自己没尽心促成这件事。但是，她有那么多事要操心，即使她再怎么卖劲儿．哪能什么都心想事成呀？
　　又过了一两天，耶茨先生也走了。对于他的辞别，托马斯爵士尤感称心。他就喜欢自己一家人关起门来过日子，即使是一个比耶茨先生强的客人住在家里，也会让他感到厌烦。何况耶茨先生轻薄自负、好逸恶劳、挥霍无度，真是让人厌烦透顶。他本来就是个令人厌倦的人，但是作为汤姆的朋友和朱莉娅的心上人，他更让托马斯爵士反感。克劳福德先生是去是留，托马斯爵士毫不在乎——但是他把耶茨先生送到门口，祝他一路平安的时候，心里着实高兴。耶茨先生亲眼看到了曼斯菲尔德取消了演戏的一切准备工作，清除了演戏用的每一样东西，他走的时候，大宅里已经恢复了清清静静的平常面貌。托马斯爵士把他送出门的时候，希望家里清除了与演戏有关的最恶劣的一个人，也是势必使他联想到在此演过戏的最后一个家伙。
　　诺里斯太太把一样可能会惹他生气的东西搬走了，没让他看见。她把她大显其能张罗做得那么精致的幕布给拿回农舍了，她碰巧特别需要绿色绒布。　

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 22楼发表于: 2013-10-28 0

Chapter Twenty-one

  Sir Thomas's return made a striking change in the ways of the family, independent of Lovers' Vows. Under his government, Mansfield was an altered place. Some members of their society sent away, and the spirits of many others saddened-- it was all sameness and gloom compared with the past-- a sombre family party rarely enlivened. There was little intercourse with the Parsonage. Sir Thomas, drawing back from intimacies in general, was particularly disinclined, at this time, for any engagements but in one quarter. The Rushworths were the only addition to his own domestic circle which he could solicit.

  Edmund did not wonder that such should be his father's feelings, nor could he regret anything but the exclusion of the Grants. "But they," he observed to Fanny, "have a claim. They seem to belong to us; they seem to be part of ourselves. I could wish my father were more sensible of their very great attention to my mother and sisters while he was away. I am afraid they may feel themselves neglected. But the truth is, that my father hardly knows them. They had not been here a twelvemonth when he left England. If he knew them better, he would value their society as it deserves; for they are in fact exactly the sort of people he would like. We are sometimes a little in want of animation among ourselves: my sisters seem out of spirits, and Tom is certainly not at his ease. Dr. and Mrs. Grant would enliven us, and make our evenings pass away with more enjoyment even to my father."

  "Do you think so?" said Fanny: "in my opinion, my uncle would not like _any_ addition. I think he values the very quietness you speak of, and that the repose of his own family circle is all he wants. And it does not appear to me that we are more serious than we used to be--I mean before my uncle went abroad. As well as I can recollect, it was always much the same. There was never much laughing in his presence; or, if there is any difference, it is not more, I think, than such an absence has a tendency to produce at first. There must be a sort of shyness; but I cannot recollect that our evenings formerly were ever merry, except when my uncle was in town. No young people's are, I suppose, when those they look up to are at home".

  "I believe you are right, Fanny," was his reply, after a short consideration. "I believe our evenings are rather returned to what they were, than assuming a new character. The novelty was in their being lively. Yet, how strong the impression that only a few weeks will give! I have been feeling as if we had never lived so before."

  "I suppose I am graver than other people," said Fanny. "The evenings do not appear long to me. I love to hear my uncle talk of the West Indies. I could listen to him for an hour together. It entertains _me_ more than many other things have done; but then I am unlike other people, I dare say."

  "Why should you dare say _that_?" (smiling). "Do you want to be told that you are only unlike other people in being more wise and discreet? But when did you, or anybody, ever get a compliment from me, Fanny? Go to my father if you want to be complimented. He will satisfy you. Ask your uncle what he thinks, and you will hear compliments enough: and though they may be chiefly on your person, you must put up with it, and trust to his seeing as much beauty of mind in time."

  Such language was so new to Fanny that it quite embarrassed her.

  "Your uncle thinks you very pretty, dear Fanny-- and that is the long and the short of the matter. Anybody but myself would have made something more of it, and anybody but you would resent that you had not been thought very pretty before; but the truth is, that your uncle never did admire you till now--and now he does. Your complexion is so improved!--and you have gained so much countenance!--and your figure--nay, Fanny, do not turn away about it--it is but an uncle. If you cannot bear an uncle's admiration, what is to become of you? You must really begin to harden yourself to the idea of being worth looking at. You must try not to mind growing up into a pretty woman."

  "Oh! don't talk so, don't talk so," cried Fanny, distressed by more feelings than he was aware of; but seeing that she was distressed, he had done with the subject, and only added more seriously--

  "Your uncle is disposed to be pleased with you in every respect; and I only wish you would talk to him more. You are one of those who are too silent in the evening circle."

  "But I do talk to him more than I used. I am sure I do. Did not you hear me ask him about the slave-trade last night?"

  "I did--and was in hopes the question would be followed up by others. It would have pleased your uncle to be inquired of farther."

  "And I longed to do it--but there was such a dead silence! And while my cousins were sitting by without speaking a word, or seeming at all interested in the subject, I did not like-- I thought it would appear as if I wanted to set myself off at their expense, by shewing a curiosity and pleasure in his information which he must wish his own daughters to feel."

  "Miss Crawford was very right in what she said of you the other day: that you seemed almost as fearful of notice and praise as other women were of neglect. We were talking of you at the Parsonage, and those were her words. She has great discernment. I know nobody who distinguishes characters better. For so young a woman it is remarkable! She certainly understands _you_ better than you are understood by the greater part of those who have known you so long; and with regard to some others, I can perceive, from occasional lively hints, the unguarded expressions of the moment, that she could define _many_ as accurately, did not delicacy forbid it. I wonder what she thinks of my father! She must admire him as a fine-looking man, with most gentlemanlike, dignified, consistent manners; but perhaps, having seen him so seldom, his reserve may be a little repulsive. Could they be much together, I feel sure of their liking each other. He would enjoy her liveliness and she has talents to value his powers. I wish they met more frequently! I hope she does not suppose there is any dislike on his side."

  "She must know herself too secure of the regard of all the rest of you," said Fanny, with half a sigh, "to have any such apprehension. And Sir Thomas's wishing just at first to be only with his family, is so very natural, that she can argue nothing from that. After a little while, I dare say, we shall be meeting again in the same sort of way, allowing for the difference of the time of year."

  "This is the first October that she has passed in the country since her infancy. I do not call Tunbridge or Cheltenham the country; and November is a still more serious month, and I can see that Mrs. Grant is very anxious for her not finding Mansfield dull as winter comes on."

  Fanny could have said a great deal, but it was safer to say nothing, and leave untouched all Miss Crawford's resources-- her accomplishments, her spirits, her importance, her friends, lest it should betray her into any observations seemingly unhandsome. Miss Crawford's kind opinion of herself deserved at least a grateful forbearance, and she began to talk of something else.

  "To-morrow, I think, my uncle dines at Sotherton, and you and Mr. Bertram too. We shall be quite a small party at home. I hope my uncle may continue to like Mr. Rushworth."

  "That is impossible, Fanny. He must like him less after to-morrow's visit, for we shall be five hours in his company. I should dread the stupidity of the day, if there were not a much greater evil to follow-- the impression it must leave on Sir Thomas. He cannot much longer deceive himself. I am sorry for them all, and would give something that Rushworth and Maria had never met."

  In this quarter, indeed, disappointment was impending over Sir Thomas. Not all his good-will for Mr. Rushworth, not all Mr. Rushworth's deference for him, could prevent him from soon discerning some part of the truth-- that Mr. Rushworth was an inferior young man, as ignorant in business as in books, with opinions in general unfixed, and without seeming much aware of it himself.

  He had expected a very different son-in-law; and beginning to feel grave on Maria's account, tried to understand _her_ feelings. Little observation there was necessary to tell him that indifference was the most favourable state they could be in. Her behaviour to Mr. Rushworth was careless and cold. She could not, did not like him. Sir Thomas resolved to speak seriously to her. Advantageous as would be the alliance, and long standing and public as was the engagement, her happiness must not be sacrificed to it. Mr. Rushworth had, perhaps, been accepted on too short an acquaintance, and, on knowing him better, she was repenting.

  With solemn kindness Sir Thomas addressed her: told her his fears, inquired into her wishes, entreated her to be open and sincere, and assured her that every inconvenience should be braved, and the connexion entirely given up, if she felt herself unhappy in the prospect of it. He would act for her and release her. Maria had a moment's struggle as she listened, and only a moment's: when her father ceased, she was able to give her answer immediately, decidedly, and with no apparent agitation. She thanked him for his great attention, his paternal kindness, but he was quite mistaken in supposing she had the smallest desire of breaking through her engagement, or was sensible of any change of opinion or inclination since her forming it. She had the highest esteem for Mr. Rushworth's character and disposition, and could not have a doubt of her happiness with him.

  Sir Thomas was satisfied; too glad to be satisfied, perhaps, to urge the matter quite so far as his judgment might have dictated to others. It was an alliance which he could not have relinquished without pain; and thus he reasoned. Mr. Rushworth was young enough to improve. Mr. Rushworth must and would improve in good society; and if Maria could now speak so securely of her happiness with him, speaking certainly without the prejudice, the blindness of love, she ought to be believed. Her feelings, probably, were not acute; he had never supposed them to be so; but her comforts might not be less on that account; and if she could dispense with seeing her husband a leading, shining character, there would certainly be everything else in her favour. A well-disposed young woman, who did not marry for love, was in general but the more attached to her own family; and the nearness of Sotherton to Mansfield must naturally hold out the greatest temptation, and would, in all probability, be a continual supply of the most amiable and innocent enjoyments. Such and such-like were the reasonings of Sir Thomas, happy to escape the embarrassing evils of a rupture, the wonder, the reflections, the reproach that must attend it; happy to secure a marriage which would bring him such an addition of respectability and influence, and very happy to think anything of his daughter's disposition that was most favourable for the purpose.

  To her the conference closed as satisfactorily as to him. She was in a state of mind to be glad that she had secured her fate beyond recall: that she had pledged herself anew to Sotherton; that she was safe from the possibility of giving Crawford the triumph of governing her actions, and destroying her prospects; and retired in proud resolve, determined only to behave more cautiously to Mr. Rushworth in future, that her father might not be again suspecting her.

  Had Sir Thomas applied to his daughter within the first three or four days after Henry Crawford's leaving Mansfield, before her feelings were at all tranquillised, before she had given up every hope of him, or absolutely resolved on enduring his rival, her answer might have been different; but after another three or four days, when there was no return, no letter, no message, no symptom of a softened heart, no hope of advantage from separation, her mind became cool enough to seek all the comfort that pride and self revenge could give.

  Henry Crawford had destroyed her happiness, but he should not know that he had done it; he should not destroy her credit, her appearance, her prosperity, too. He should not have to think of her as pining in the retirement of Mansfield for _him_, rejecting Sotherton and London, independence and splendour, for _his_ sake. Independence was more needful than ever; the want of it at Mansfield more sensibly felt. She was less and less able to endure the restraint which her father imposed. The liberty which his absence had given was now become absolutely necessary. She must escape from him and Mansfield as soon as possible, and find consolation in fortune and consequence, bustle and the world, for a wounded spirit. Her mind was quite determined, and varied not.

  To such feelings delay, even the delay of much preparation, would have been an evil, and Mr. Rushworth could hardly be more impatient for the marriage than herself. In all the important preparations of the mind she was complete: being prepared for matrimony by an hatred of home, restraint, and tranquillity; by the misery of disappointed affection, and contempt of the man she was to marry. The rest might wait. The preparations of new carriages and furniture might wait for London and spring, when her own taste could have fairer play.

  The principals being all agreed in this respect, it soon appeared that a very few weeks would be sufficient for such arrangements as must precede the wedding.

  Mrs. Rushworth was quite ready to retire, and make way for the fortunate young woman whom her dear son had selected; and very early in November removed herself, her maid, her footman, and her chariot, with true dowager propriety, to Bath, there to parade over the wonders of Sotherton in her evening parties; enjoying them as thoroughly, perhaps, in the animation of a card-table, as she had ever done on the spot; and before the middle of the same month the ceremony had taken place which gave Sotherton another mistress.

  It was a very proper wedding. The bride was elegantly dressed; the two bridesmaids were duly inferior; her father gave her away; her mother stood with salts in her hand, expecting to be agitated; her aunt tried to cry; and the service was impressively read by Dr. 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. Norris, most happy to assist in the duties of the day, by spending it at the Park to support her sister's spirits, and drinking the health of Mr. and Mrs. Rushworth in a supernumerary glass or two, was all joyous delight; for she had made the match; she had done everything; and no one would have supposed, from her confident triumph, that she had ever heard of conjugal infelicity in her life, or could have the smallest insight into the disposition of the niece who had been brought up under her eye.

  The plan of the young couple was to proceed, after a few days, to Brighton, and take a house there for some weeks. Every public place was new to Maria, and Brighton is almost as gay in winter as in summer. When the novelty of amusement there was over, it would be time for the wider range of London.

  Julia was to go with them to Brighton. Since rivalry between the sisters had ceased, they had been gradually recovering much of their former good understanding; and were at least sufficiently friends to make each of them exceedingly glad to be with the other at such a time. Some other companion than Mr. Rushworth was of the first consequence to his lady; and Julia was quite as eager for novelty and pleasure as Maria, though she might not have struggled through so much to obtain them, and could better bear a subordinate situation.

  Their departure made another material change at Mansfield, a chasm which required some time to fill up. The family circle became greatly contracted; and though the Miss Bertrams had latterly added little to its gaiety, they could not but be missed. Even their mother missed them; and how much more their tenderhearted cousin, who wandered about the house, and thought of them, and felt for them, with a degree of affectionate regret which they had never done much to deserve!

　　托马斯爵士回来不仅使《山盟海誓》停演，而且使家里的风气发生了显著的变化。在他的掌管下，曼斯菲尔德完全变了样。他们这个小团体中，有的人被打发走了，另外有不少人情绪低落，与过去相比，到处千篇一律，一片沉闷。一家人在一起总是板着面孔，很少有喜笑颜开的时候。跟牧师住宅的人已不怎么来往。托马斯爵士一般不愿跟人保持密切关系，眼下尤其不愿跟任何人交往，但有一个例外。他只想让他的家人跟拉什沃思一家人来往。
　　埃德蒙对父亲的这种情绪并不感到奇怪，他也没有什么可遗憾的，只是觉得不该把格兰特一家人排斥在外。他对范妮说：“他们是有权利跟我们来往的。他们好像是我们自己的人——好像是我们的一部分。但愿父亲能意识到他不在家期间他们对母亲和妹妹们如何关怀备至。我担心他们会觉得自己受到了冷落。其实，父亲不怎么了解他们。他们来这儿还不到一年，父亲就离开了英国。他要是对他们多了解一些，就会赞成和他们来往的，因为他们正是他所喜欢的那种人。我们一家人之间有时缺乏点生气，两个妹妹似乎无精打采，汤姆当然也心神不定。格兰特博士和格兰特太太会给我们带来生气，使我们晚上的时光过得更加愉快，甚至让父亲也感到愉快。”
　　“你这样想吗？”范妮说。“依我看，姨父不喜欢任何外人掺和进来。我认为他看重你所说的安静，他只希望他自家的小圈子能过着安安静静的生活。我觉得我们并不比过去还要呆板——我是说比姨父到海外以前。根据我的记忆，一直都是这样的。姨父在家的时候，从来没有人大说大笑过。如果说现在有什么不同的话，我想那只是他长期不在家刚刚回来引起的。肯定有些怯生。不过我记得，以前除非姨父去了伦敦，我们晚上也不是快快乐乐的。我想，只要有大家敬仰的人在家，年轻人晚上没有快快乐乐的。”
　　“我想你说得对，范妮，”埃德蒙想了想后回道。“我想我们晚上又回复到了以前的样子，而不是呈现出新面貌。前一段的新奇就在于晚上比较活跃。然而，仅仅几个星期却给人留下多么深刻的印象啊！我觉得好像我们以前从没这么生活过。”
　　“我想我比别人都古板，”范妮说。“我不觉得晚上的时间难熬。我喜欢听姨父讲西印度群岛的事。我可以一连听他讲上一个小时。这比许多别的事都更让我快乐——不过，我想我跟别人不一样。”
　　“你怎么竟然说这话？（一边笑笑）你是不是想让我告诉你，你跟别人不一样的地方，只在于你比别人更聪明、更稳重呢？不过，范妮，你也好，别人也好，什么时候听到过我的恭维？你要是想听恭维话，那就去找我父亲，他会满足你的。只要问你姨父怎么看你，你就会听到许多恭维话。虽说主要是对你外表的恭维，你还必须听进去，相信他迟早会看出你的内心同样美。”
　　范妮是第一次听到这样的语言，感到十分尴尬。
　　“你姨父觉得你很漂亮，亲爱的范妮——情况就是如此。除了我之外，谁都会为之大惊小怪；除了你之外，谁都会因为以前没人认为自己很漂亮而生气。实际上，你姨父以前从不觉得你好看——现在觉得你好看了。你的脸色比以前好多了！容貌也漂亮多了！还有你的身材——别，范妮，不要不好意思——不过是姨父嘛。连姨父的赞赏都受不了，那你怎么办呀？你还真得学得大方一些，觉得自己值得别人看。不要在意自己长成了一个漂亮的女人。”
　　“噢！不要这么说，不要这么说，”范妮嚷道。埃德蒙体会不到她满腹的苦衷，但是见她不高兴，便打住了这个话题，只是一本正经地加了两句：“你姨父各方面都很喜欢你，但愿你能多和他说说话。我们晚上在一起的时候，有的人说话太少，你是其中的一个。”
　　“可我跟他比以前话多了。我相信比以前多。昨天晚上你没听见我向他打听贩卖奴隶的事吗？”
　　“听见了——我还希望你问了这个问题再接着问些别的问题。要是能进一步问下去，你姨父才会高兴呢。”
　　“我是想问下去的——可大家都默不做声啊！表哥表姐坐在旁边一言不发，好像对这个问题丝毫不感兴趣，我也就不想问了——姨父肯定希望自己的女儿想听他的消息，我要是对他的消息好奇、感兴趣，我就怕别人觉得我想抬高自己，贬低表姐。”
　　“克劳福德小姐那天说到你，她的话说得一点不错——别的女人唯恐受人冷落，而你好像就怕别人注意自己、夸奖自己。我们是在牧师住宅谈到你的，这是她的原话。她很有眼力。我认识的人中，谁也没有她看人看得准。这么年轻就这么有眼力，真了不起呀！比起跟你相识这么久的大多数人来，她当然更了解你啦。至于对另外一些人，从她偶尔一时高兴给我的暗示，或是一时说漏嘴的话中，我发现如果不是有所顾忌的话，她会同样准确地说出许多人的性格特点。我真想知道她是怎么看我父亲的！她肯定会赞赏他，觉得他相貌堂堂，仪态严正，总是文质彬彬，很有绅士风度。不过，由于相见的机会不多，也许对他的矜持寡言有点反感。他们要是能有更多的机会在一起，我相信他们会相互喜欢的。父亲会喜欢她性情活泼——而她有眼力，会敬重父亲的才干。他们要是能经常见面该有多好啊！希望她不要以为父亲不喜欢她。”
　　“她肯定知道你们其他人都很器重她，”范妮有点哀叹地说，“不会有这样的疑虑。托马斯爵士因为刚从海外回来，只想和自家人多聚聚，这是很自然的事，她不会有什么怨言。过一阵之后，我想我们又会像以前那样见面了，只不过那时换了季节。”
　　“她长这么大，这还是她在乡下过的第一个10月。我认为顿桥和切尔滕纳姆还算不上乡下。11月景色就更加萧条了。我看得出，随着冬天的到来，格兰特太太就怕她觉得曼斯菲尔德单调乏味。”
　　范妮本来还有许多话要说，但觉得最好还是什么也不说，不去议论克劳福德小姐的聪明才智、多才多艺、性情活泼、受人器重以及她的朋友们，免得哪句话说得不当显得自己没有气量。再说克劳福德小姐对她看法不错，即使出于感激也应大度一些，于是她谈起了别的事情。
　　“我想明天姨父要到索瑟顿去赴宴，你和伯特伦先生也要去，家里就没有几个人了。希望姨父对拉什沃思先生继续喜欢下去。”
　　“这不可能，范妮。明天见面之后，我父亲就不会那么喜欢他了，因为他要陪我们五个小时。我担心这一天会过得枯燥无聊，更怕出什么大问题——给托马斯爵士留下不好的印象。他不会长久地自我欺骗下去。我为他们感到遗憾，当初拉什沃思和玛丽亚就不该认识。”
　　在这方面，托马斯爵士确实即将感到失望。尽管他想善待拉什沃思先生，而拉什沃思先生又很敬重他，但他还是很快便看出了几分真情——拉什沃思先生是个低能的青年，既没有书本知识，也不会办实事，对什么都没有主见，而他对自己的这些缺点，似乎毫无察觉。
　　托马斯爵士原以为未来的女婿完全是另一个样子。他开始为玛丽亚感到心事沉重，便想了解她是怎么想的。稍做观察之后，他就发现女儿的心完全是冷漠的。她对拉什沃思先生态度冷淡，根本没把他放在心上。她不会喜欢他，事实上也不喜欢他。托马斯爵士决定跟她认真谈一谈。尽管两家联姻对他家会有好处，尽管两人订婚时间不短，而且已是人人皆知，但是不能因此而牺牲女儿的幸福。也许她与拉什沃思先生认识不久就接受了他的求婚，后来对他有了进一步的了解，便后悔了。
　　托马斯爵士和气而又严肃地跟女儿谈了一次，讲了讲他的忧虑，探问了她的心思，恳求她开诚布公，并对她说：如果她觉得这桩婚事不会使她幸福，他会不顾一切困难，彻底解除这门亲事。他要采取行动，帮她解脱出来。玛丽亚一面听，心里斗争了片刻，也仅仅是片刻而已。父亲刚一说完，她便立即做出了明确的回答，丝毫看不出情绪上有什么波动。她感谢父亲莫大的关怀，感谢他的慈爱。不过，父亲完全误会了，其实她丝毫无意要解除婚约，从订婚以来，她的心意丝毫没有改变。她无比敬重拉什沃思先生的人品和性情，毫不怀疑和他在一起会是幸福的。
　　托马斯爵士感到满意了，也许是因为能得到满意的回答而感到太高兴了，对这件事也就不像对别的事情那样，非要逼着按他的意见去办。这是他放弃会为之痛心的一门亲事，他是这样想的。拉什沃思先生还年轻，还会上迸。他跟上流人士在一起，肯定会有长进。既然玛丽亚能一口断定她和他在一起会幸福，而她这样说又不是出于盲目的痴情和偏见，那就应该相信她的话。也许她的感情不很强烈，他从来不认为她的感情会很强烈。但是她的幸福不会因此而减少。如果她不要求丈夫是个出人头地、光芒四射的人，那她肯定会觉得处处满意。一个心地善良的年轻女人，如果不是为了爱情而结婚，往往更依恋自己的家庭。索瑟顿离曼斯菲尔德这么近，自然是对她极大的诱惑，结婚后势必会给她带来最称心、最纯真的快乐。托马斯爵士就是如此这般盘算的——他为避免了女儿婚姻破裂及其必然招致的惊奇、议论和责难等令人尴尬的后果而高兴，为巩固了一桩会大大增加他的体面和势力的亲事而高兴，而一想到女儿性情这么好，能顺利保住这桩婚事，他更是万分欢喜。
　　对这次谈话的结果，女儿像父亲一样满意。玛丽亚感到高兴的是，她牢牢地把握住了自己的命运——她再次下定决心要去索瑟顿——克劳福德不再会因为能支配她的行动，毁掉她的前程而洋洋得意。她踌躇满志地回到自己房里，决定今后对拉什沃思先生要谨慎一些，免得父亲又起疑心。
　　假如托马斯爵士是在亨利·克劳福德刚走的那三四天里跟女儿提出这个问题，趁她的心情还没平静下来，她对克劳福德先生还没完全死心，或者她还没横下心来将就着嫁给他的情敌，她的回答也许会完全不同。但是过了三四天，克劳福德先生一去不回，既不来信，也没消息——没有一点回心转意的迹象——没有因为分离而产生的眷恋——她的心冷了下来，便想从傲慢和自我报复中寻求安慰。
　　亨利·克劳福德破坏了她的幸福，但是还不能让他知道这一点，不能让他再毁了她的名声、她的仪表、她的前程。不能让他以为她待在曼斯菲尔德眼巴巴地盼着他，为了他而放弃了索瑟顿和伦敦，放弃了丰厚的家产和荣耀。她现在尤其需要一份丰厚的家产，如今在曼斯菲尔德越发感到自己没有独立的家产是多么不便。她越来越受不了父亲对她的约束。他去海外期间她所享受的那种自由，现在是她绝对不可或缺的。她必须尽快逃离他，逃离曼斯菲尔德，她要过有钱有势的生活，要交际应酬，要见世面，借以安慰她那受到伤害的心灵。她主意已定，决不改变。
　　既然有这样的想法，事情就不能再拖延了，就连许多准备事项也不能再耽搁了。拉什沃思先生也没像她这样急于结婚。她已经完全做好了思想准备：她厌恶她的家，厌恶在家里受约束，厌恶家里死气沉沉，加上情场失意带来的痛苦，以及对她想嫁的人的蔑视，由于这一切，她准备出嫁。别的事可以往后再说。新马车和家具可以等到春天，她能辨别好坏的时候，到伦敦去置办。
　　这方面的主要问题都定下来了，看来婚前必要的准备工作几个星期内便可完成。
　　拉什沃思太太非常乐意隐退，给她的宝贝儿子挑选的这位幸运的年轻女人腾出位置。11月份刚到，她便带着男仆女仆，坐着四轮轻便马车，完全按照寡妇的规矩，搬到了巴斯——在这里每天晚上向客人夸耀索瑟顿的奇妙景物——借助牌桌的兴致，讲起来就像当初亲临其境一样兴高采烈。还没到11月中，就举行了婚礼，索瑟顿又有了一位主妇。
　　婚礼十分体面。新娘打扮得雍容华贵，两位女傧相恰到好处地有所逊色。她父亲把她交给新郎，母亲拿着嗅盐站在那里，准备激动一番，姨妈想往外挤眼泪，格兰特博士把婚礼主持得颇为感人。左邻右舍的人议论起这次婚礼，都觉得没有什么可挑剔的，只不过把新郎、新娘和朱莉娅从教堂门口拉到索瑟顿的那辆马车，拉什沃思先生早巳用过一年。除此之外，那天的仪式在各方面都经得起最严格的检验。
　　婚礼结束了，新人也走了。托马斯爵士感到了为父者必然会感到的不安，他妻子原来担心自己会激动，不想幸免了，他现在却真的大为激动起来。诺里斯太太欣喜万分地帮助张罗这一天的事，在庄园里安慰妹妹，给拉什沃思夫妇祝酒时额外多喝了一两杯，真是快乐到了极点。婚事是她促成的，一切都是她的功劳。从她那神气十足、洋洋得意的样子中，谁也看不出她这辈子还听说过居然有不幸的婚事，看不出她对在她眼皮下长大的外甥女的脾气有一丝一毫的了解。
　　年轻夫妇计划过几天就去布赖顿，在那里租座房子住上几个星期。哪个公共场所玛丽亚都没去过，布赖顿的冬天几乎像夏天一样欢快。等玩完了所有的新鲜游乐之后，就该去伦敦大开眼界了。
　　朱莉娅打算陪他们俩前往布赖顿。两姊妹已经不再争风吃醋，渐渐恢复了以往的和睦，至少算得上是朋友，在此期间非常愿意彼此做伴。对于玛丽亚来说，除了拉什沃思先生以外，能有另外一个人相伴也是头等重要的事。至于朱莉娅，她像玛丽亚一样渴望新奇和欢乐，不过她不见得会为此而费尽心机，她甘愿处于现在这种从属地位。
　　他们这一走，在曼斯菲尔德又引起了重大的变化，留下的空隙需要一段时间才能弥补。这个家庭小圈子大大缩小了，两位伯特伦小姐虽然近来很少给家里增添欢乐，但她们走后，家里人依然想念她们。连她们的母亲都想她们。她们那心肠柔软的表妹更是想念得厉害，她在房子里转来转去，怀念她们，怜惜她们，情意绵绵地因为见不到她们而伤心，而那姐妹俩却从来没有对她这么好过啊！　

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 23楼发表于: 2013-10-28 0

Chapter Twenty-two

  Fanny's consequence increased on the departure of her cousins. Becoming, as she then did, the only young woman in the drawing-room, the only occupier of that interesting division of a family in which she had hitherto held so humble a third, it was impossible for her not to be more looked at, more thought of and attended to, than she had ever been before; and "Where is Fanny?" became no uncommon question, even without her being wanted for any one's convenience.

  Not only at home did her value increase, but at the Parsonage too. In that house, which she had hardly entered twice a year since Mr. Norris's death, she became a welcome, an invited guest, and in the gloom and dirt of a November day, most acceptable to Mary Crawford. Her visits there, beginning by chance, were continued by solicitation. Mrs. Grant, really eager to get any change for her sister, could, by the easiest self-deceit, persuade herself that she was doing the kindest thing by Fanny, and giving her the most important opportunities of improvement in pressing her frequent calls.

  Fanny, having been sent into the village on some errand by her aunt Norris, was overtaken by a heavy shower close to the Parsonage; and being descried from one of the windows endeavouring to find shelter under the branches and lingering leaves of an oak just beyond their premises, was forced, though not without some modest reluctance on her part, to come in. A civil servant she had withstood; but when Dr. Grant himself went out with an umbrella, there was nothing to be done but to be very much ashamed, and to get into the house as fast as possible; and to poor Miss Crawford, who had just been contemplating the dismal rain in a very desponding state of mind, sighing over the ruin of all her plan of exercise for that morning, and of every chance of seeing a single creature beyond themselves for the next twenty-four hours, the sound of a little bustle at the front door, and the sight of Miss Price dripping with wet in the vestibule, was delightful. The value of an event on a wet day in the country was most forcibly brought before her. She was all alive again directly, and among the most active in being useful to Fanny, in detecting her to be wetter than she would at first allow, and providing her with dry clothes; and Fanny, after being obliged to submit to all this attention, and to being assisted and waited on by mistresses and maids, being also obliged, on returning downstairs, to be fixed in their drawing-room for an hour while the rain continued, the blessing of something fresh to see and think of was thus extended to Miss Crawford, and might carry on her spirits to the period of dressing and dinner.

  The two sisters were so kind to her, and so pleasant, that Fanny might have enjoyed her visit could she have believed herself not in the way, and could she have foreseen that the weather would certainly clear at the end of the hour, and save her from the shame of having Dr. Grant's carriage and horses out to take her home, with which she was threatened. As to anxiety for any alarm that her absence in such weather might occasion at home, she had nothing to suffer on that score; for as her being out was known only to her two aunts, she was perfectly aware that none would be felt, and that in whatever cottage aunt Norris might chuse to establish her during the rain, her being in such cottage would be indubitable to aunt Bertram.

  It was beginning to look brighter, when Fanny, observing a harp in the room, asked some questions about it, which soon led to an acknowledgment of her wishing very much to hear it, and a confession, which could hardly be believed, of her having never yet heard it since its being in Mansfield. To Fanny herself it appeared a very simple and natural circumstance. She had scarcely ever been at the Parsonage since the instrument's arrival, there had been no reason that she should; but Miss Crawford, calling to mind an early expressed wish on the subject, was concerned at her own neglect; and "Shall I play to you now?" and "What will you have?" were questions immediately following with the readiest good-humour.

  She played accordingly; happy to have a new listener, and a listener who seemed so much obliged, so full of wonder at the performance, and who shewed herself not wanting in taste. She played till Fanny's eyes, straying to the window on the weather's being evidently fair, spoke what she felt must be done.

  "Another quarter of an hour," said Miss Crawford, "and we shall see how it will be. Do not run away the first moment of its holding up. Those clouds look alarming."

  "But they are passed over," said Fanny. "I have been watching them. This weather is all from the south."

  "South or north, I know a black cloud when I see it; and you must not set forward while it is so threatening. And besides, I want to play something more to you--a very pretty piece--and your cousin Edmund's prime favourite. You must stay and hear your cousin's favourite."

  Fanny felt that she must; and though she had not waited for that sentence to be thinking of Edmund, such a memento made her particularly awake to his idea, and she fancied him sitting in that room again and again, perhaps in the very spot where she sat now, listening with constant delight to the favourite air, played, as it appeared to her, with superior tone and expression; and though pleased with it herself, and glad to like whatever was liked by him, she was more sincerely impatient to go away at the conclusion of it than she had been before; and on this being evident, she was so kindly asked to call again, to take them in her walk whenever she could, to come and hear more of the harp, that she felt it necessary to be done, if no objection arose at home.

  Such was the origin of the sort of intimacy which took place between them within the first fortnight after the Miss Bertrams' going away--an intimacy resulting principally from Miss Crawford's desire of something new, and which had little reality in Fanny's feelings. Fanny went to her every two or three days: it seemed a kind of fascination: she could not be easy without going, and yet it was without loving her, without ever thinking like her, without any sense of obligation for being sought after now when nobody else was to be had; and deriving no higher pleasure from her conversation than occasional amusement, and _that_ often at the expense of her judgment, when it was raised by pleasantry on people or subjects which she wished to be respected. She went, however, and they sauntered about together many an half-hour in Mrs. Grant's shrubbery, the weather being unusually mild for the time of year, and venturing sometimes even to sit down on one of the benches now comparatively unsheltered, remaining there perhaps till, in the midst of some tender ejaculation of Fanny's on the sweets of so protracted an autumn, they were forced, by the sudden swell of a cold gust shaking down the last few yellow leaves about them, to jump up and walk for warmth.

  "This is pretty, very pretty," said Fanny, looking around her as they were thus sitting together one day; "every time I come into this shrubbery I am more struck with its growth and beauty. Three years ago, this was nothing but a rough hedgerow along the upper side of the field, never thought of as anything, or capable of becoming anything; and now it is converted into a walk, and it would be difficult to say whether most valuable as a convenience or an ornament; 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; and at others again, so tyrannic, so beyond control! We are, to be sure, a miracle every way; but our powers of recollecting and of forgetting do seem peculiarly past finding out."

  Miss Crawford, untouched and inattentive, had nothing to say; and Fanny, perceiving it, brought back her own mind to what she thought must interest.

  "It may seem impertinent in _me_ to praise, but I must admire the taste Mrs. Grant has shewn in all this. There is such a quiet simplicity in the plan of the walk! Not too much attempted!"

  "Yes," replied Miss Crawford carelessly, "it does very well for a place of this sort. One does not think of extent _here_; and between ourselves, till I came to Mansfield, I had not imagined a country parson ever aspired to a shrubbery, or anything of the kind."

  "I am so glad to see the evergreens thrive!" said Fanny, in reply. "My uncle's gardener always says the soil here is better than his own, and so it appears from the growth of the laurels and evergreens in general. The evergreen! How beautiful, how welcome, how wonderful the evergreen! When one thinks of it, how astonishing a variety of nature! In some countries we know the tree that sheds its leaf is the variety, but that does not make it less amazing that the same soil and the same sun should nurture plants differing in the first rule and law of their existence. You will think me rhapsodising; but when I am out of doors, especially when I am sitting out of doors, I am very apt to get into this sort of wondering strain. One cannot fix one's eyes on the commonest natural production without finding food for a rambling fancy."

  "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; and, moreover, the quietest five months I ever passed."

  "_Too_ quiet for you, I believe."

  "I should have thought so _theoretically_ myself, but," and her eyes brightened as she spoke, "take it all and all, I never spent so happy a summer. But then," with a more thoughtful air and lowered voice, "there is no saying what it may lead to."

  Fanny's heart beat quick, and she felt quite unequal to surmising or soliciting anything more. Miss Crawford, however, with renewed animation, soon went on--

  "I am conscious of being far better reconciled to a country residence than I had ever expected to be. I can even suppose it pleasant to spend _half_ the year in the country, under certain circumstances, very pleasant. An elegant, moderate-sized house in the centre of family connexions; continual engagements among them; commanding the first society in the neighbourhood; looked up to, perhaps, as leading it even more than those of larger fortune, and turning from the cheerful round of such amusements to nothing worse than a _tete-a-tete_ with the person one feels most agreeable in the world. There is nothing frightful in such a picture, is there, Miss Price? One need not envy the new Mrs. Rushworth with such a home as _that_." "Envy Mrs. Rushworth!" was all that Fanny attempted to say. "Come, come, it would be very un-handsome in us to be severe on Mrs. Rushworth, for I look forward to our owing her a great many gay, brilliant, happy hours. I expect we shall be all very much at Sotherton another year. Such a match as Miss Bertram has made is a public blessing; for the first pleasures of Mr. Rushworth's wife must be to fill her house, and give the best balls in the country."

  Fanny was silent, and Miss Crawford relapsed into thoughtfulness, till suddenly looking up at the end of a few minutes, she exclaimed, "Ah! 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 grant you the name is good in itself, and _Lord_ Edmund or _Sir_ Edmund sound delightfully; but sink it under the chill, the annihilation of a Mr., and Mr. Edmund is no more than Mr. John or Mr. Thomas. Well, shall we join and disappoint them of half their lecture upon sitting down out of doors at this time of year, by being up before they can begin?"

  Edmund met them with particular pleasure. It was the first time of his seeing them together since the beginning of that better acquaintance which he had been hearing of with great satisfaction. A friendship between two so very dear to him was exactly what he could have wished: and to the credit of the lover's understanding, be it stated, that he did not by any means consider Fanny as the only, or even as the greater gainer by such a friendship.

  "Well," said Miss Crawford, "and do you not scold us for our imprudence? What do you think we have been sitting down for but to be talked to about it, and entreated and supplicated never to do so again?"

  "Perhaps I might have scolded," said Edmund, "if either of you had been sitting down alone; but while you do wrong together, I can overlook a great deal."

  "They cannot have been sitting long," cried Mrs. Grant, "for when I went up for my shawl I saw them from the staircase window, and then they were walking."

  "And really," added Edmund, "the day is so mild, that your sitting down for a few minutes can be hardly thought imprudent. Our weather must not always be judged by the calendar. We may sometimes take greater liberties in November than in May."

  "Upon my word," cried Miss Crawford, "you are two of the most disappointing and unfeeling kind friends I ever met with! There is no giving you a moment's uneasiness. You do not know how much we have been suffering, nor what chills we have felt! But I have long thought Mr. Bertram one of the worst subjects to work on, in any little manoeuvre against common sense, that a woman could be plagued with. I had very little hope of _him_ from the first; but you, Mrs. Grant, my sister, my own sister, I think I had a right to alarm you a little."

  "Do not flatter yourself, my dearest Mary. You have not the smallest chance of moving me. I have my alarms, but they are quite in a different quarter; and if I could have altered the weather, you would have had a good sharp east wind blowing on you the whole time--for here are some of my plants which Robert _will_ leave out because the nights are so mild, and I know the end of it will be, that we shall have a sudden change of weather, a hard frost setting in all at once, taking everybody (at least Robert) by surprise, and I shall lose every one; and what is worse, cook has just been telling me that the turkey, which I particularly wished not to be dressed till Sunday, because I know how much more Dr. Grant would enjoy it on Sunday after the fatigues of the day, will not keep beyond to-morrow. These are something like grievances, and make me think the weather most unseasonably close." "The sweets of housekeeping in a country village!" said Miss Crawford archly. "Commend me to the nurseryman and the poulterer."

  "My dear child, commend Dr. Grant to the deanery of Westminster or St. Paul's, and I should be as glad of your nurseryman and poulterer as you could be. But we have no such people in Mansfield. What would you have me do?"

  "Oh! you can do nothing but what you do already: be plagued very often, and never lose your temper."

  "Thank you; but there is no escaping these little vexations, Mary, live where we may; and when you are settled in town and I come to see you, I dare say I shall find you with yours, in spite of the nurseryman and the poulterer, perhaps on their very account. Their remoteness and unpunctuality, or their exorbitant charges and frauds, will be drawing forth bitter lamentations."

  "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."

  "You intend to be very rich?" said Edmund, with a look which, to Fanny's eye, had a great deal of serious meaning.

  "To be sure. Do not you? Do not we all?"

  "I cannot intend anything which it must be so completely beyond my power to command. Miss Crawford may chuse her degree of wealth. She has only to fix on her number of thousands a year, and there can be no doubt of their coming. My intentions are only not to be poor."

  "By moderation and economy, and bringing down your wants to your income, and all that. I understand you--and a very proper plan it is for a person at your time of life, with such limited means and indifferent connexions. What can _you_ want but a decent maintenance? You have not much time before you; and your relations are in no situation to do anything for you, or to mortify you by the contrast of their own wealth and consequence. 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."

  "Your degree of respect for honesty, rich or poor, is precisely what I have no manner of concern with. I do not mean to be poor. Poverty is exactly what I have determined against. Honesty, in the something between, in the middle state of worldly circumstances, is all that I am anxious for your not looking down on."

  "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."

  "But how may it rise? How may my honesty at least rise to any distinction?"

  This was not so very easy a question to answer, and occasioned an "Oh!" of some length from the fair lady before she could add, "You ought to be in parliament, or you should have gone into the army ten years ago."

  "_That_ is not much to the purpose now; and as to my being in parliament, I believe I must wait till there is an especial assembly for the representation of younger sons who have little to live on. No, Miss Crawford," he added, in a more serious tone, "there _are_ distinctions which I should be miserable if I thought myself without any chance-- absolutely without chance or possibility of obtaining-- but they are of a different character."

  A look of consciousness as he spoke, and what seemed a consciousness of manner on Miss Crawford's side as she made some laughing answer, was sorrowfull food for Fanny's observation; and finding herself quite unable to attend as she ought to Mrs. Grant, by whose side she was now following the others, she had nearly resolved on going home immediately, and only waited for courage to say so, when the sound of the great clock at Mansfield Park, striking three, made her feel that she had really been much longer absent than usual, and brought the previous self-inquiry of whether she should take leave or not just then, and how, to a very speedy issue. With undoubting decision she directly began her adieus; and Edmund began at the same time to recollect that his mother had been inquiring for her, and that he had walked down to the Parsonage on purpose to bring her back.

  Fanny's hurry increased; and without in the least expecting Edmund's attendance, she would have hastened away alone; but the general pace was quickened, and they all accompanied her into the house, through which it was necessary to pass. Dr. Grant was in the vestibule, and as they stopt to speak to him she found, from Edmund's manner, that he _did_ mean to go with her. He too was taking leave. She could not but be thankful. In the moment of parting, Edmund was invited by Dr. Grant to eat his mutton with him the next day; and Fanny had barely time for an unpleasant feeling on the occasion, when Mrs. Grant, with sudden recollection, turned to her and asked for the pleasure of her company too. This was so new an attention, so perfectly new a circumstance in the events of Fanny's life, that she was all surprise and embarrassment; and while stammering out her great obligation, and her "but she did not suppose it would be in her power," was looking at Edmund for his opinion and help. But Edmund, delighted with her having such an happiness offered, and ascertaining with half a look, and half a sentence, that she had no objection but on her aunt's account, could not imagine that his mother would make any difficulty of sparing her, and therefore gave his decided open advice that the invitation should be accepted; and though Fanny would not venture, even on his encouragement, to such a flight of audacious independence, it was soon settled, that if nothing were heard to the contrary, Mrs. Grant might expect her.

  "And you know what your dinner will be," said Mrs. Grant, smiling--"the turkey, and I assure you a very fine one; for, my dear," turning to her husband, "cook insists upon the turkey's being dressed to-morrow."

  "Very well, very well," cried Dr. Grant, "all the better; I am glad to hear you have anything so good in the house. But Miss Price and Mr. Edmund Bertram, I dare say, would take their chance. We none of us want to hear the bill of fare. A friendly meeting, and not a fine dinner, is all we have in view. A turkey, or a goose, or a leg of mutton, or whatever you and your cook chuse to give us."

  The two cousins walked home together; and, except in the immediate discussion of this engagement, which Edmund spoke of with the warmest satisfaction, as so particularly desirable for her in the intimacy which he saw with so much pleasure established, it was a silent walk; for having finished that subject, he grew thoughtful and indisposed for any other.

　　两位表姐走后，范妮的身价提高了。现在，她成了客厅里唯一的年轻女子。在家中这个重要的层次上，她本来一直处于不起眼的老三的位置，如今却舍她没有别人了。因此，别人不可能不比以往更多地注意她，想到她，关照她。于是，“范妮到哪儿去了？”也就成为一个经常听到的问题，即使没什么人要她帮忙的时候也是如此。
　　她的身价不仅在家里提高了，在牧师住宅里也提高了。自从诺里斯先生去世以后，她一年到那里去不了两次，现在却成了一个受欢迎的、请上门的客人，在11月的一个阴雨天，她就受到玛丽·克劳福德的热烈欢迎。她去牧师住宅，起初是由于偶然的机会，后来是由于受到邀请而继续下去的。格兰特太太其实是一心想给妹妹解解闷，却又采取最简捷的自我欺骗的伎俩，认为她敦促范妮常来仍是对她所做的最大好事，给她提供了最重要的上进机会。
　　原来，范妮受诺里斯姨妈差遣，到村子里办件什么事，在牧师住宅附近遇上了一阵大雨。牧师住宅里的人从窗子里看见她在他们院外凋零的栎树下避雨，便邀她进去，她是推却不过勉强从命的。她先是谢绝了一个仆人的好心邀请，可是等格兰特博士亲自拿了把伞走出多来，她又觉得很不好意思，便赶快进去了。可怜的克劳福德小姐正心情沮丧地望着窗外的凄风苦雨，哀叹上午的户外活动计划化做了泡影，二十四小时内除了自家人以外再也见不到另一个人，这时听到了前门口有动静，随即看到普莱斯小姐浑身滴着水走进了门廊，心里不禁十分高兴。她深深地感受到，乡下阴雨天能来个客人实在难得。她顿时又活跃起来，满腔热忱地关心范妮，说她发现范妮的衣服都湿透了，便给她拿出了干衣服。范妮起初不肯承认自己衣服湿，后来只好接受这番关照，任凭太太小姐和女仆们帮助自己更换衣衫。后来又不得不回到楼下，眼见着雨下个不停，不得不在客厅里坐了一个小时。这一新鲜场面真令人赏心悦目，克劳福德小姐的兴致足以维持到更衣吃饭时间。
　　那姐妹俩对她客客气气，和颜悦色。范妮若不是想着自己在打扰别人，若是能预见到一个小时后天会放晴，她用不着难为情地像主人家一再说的那样，让格兰特博士的马车把自己送回家，那她对自己在这里做客会感到称心如意的。至于她在这样的天气给困在外面家里会不会着急，她倒不必为之担心，因为只有两个姨妈知道她出来，她们两人谁也不会替她担心。诺里斯姨妈不管说她会躲在哪座农舍里避雨，伯特伦夫人都会确信无疑。
　　天色不那么阴暗了。这时候，范妮看见屋里有架竖琴，便随口问了几个问题，不久又承认自己很想听一听，并且供认：说起来很难让人相信，这竖琴运到曼斯菲尔德以来，她还从来没有听过。范妮觉得，这是件很简单、很自然的事情。自从竖琴运来后，她就没怎么进过牧师住宅，她也没有理由进去。克劳福德小姐想起了早就表示过愿意弹给她听，现在为自己的疏忽感到过意不去。于是，她和颜悦色地接连问道：“我这就弹给你听好吗？”——“你要听什么？”
　　她照范妮的意思弹了起来。她很高兴又有了一个听她弹琴的人，一个似乎满怀感激之情，对她的技艺赞叹不已，而自己又不乏情趣的听琴人。她一直弹到范妮向窗外望去，眼见得外面显然已经天晴，那神情好像说她该告辞了。
　　“再等一刻钟，”克劳福德小姐说，“看看天气怎么样。不要雨刚停就走。那几块云彩看起来挺吓人的。”
　　“不过，那云彩已经过去了，”范妮说。“我一直在注视它们。这雨完全是从南边来的。”
　　“不管是从南边来还是从北边来，乌云我一看就能认出。天还这么阴沉沉的，你不能走。再说，我想再弹点东西给你听——一支非常好听的曲子——你表哥埃德蒙最喜爱的曲子。你先不要走，听听你表哥最喜欢的曲子。”
　　范妮觉得她是不能马上走。她无须听她这句话，心里就想着埃德蒙，而经她这话一提醒，心里越发浮想联翩。她想象他一次又一次地坐在这间屋子里，也许就坐在她现在坐的这个地方，总是乐滋滋地听着他最喜爱的这支曲子。在范妮的想象中，为他弹起来，曲调格外优美，弹琴人的表情格外丰富。尽管她自己也喜欢这支曲子，而且很高兴跟他有同样的喜好，但是曲子奏完之后，她比刚才还真心实意地急着要走。克劳福德小姐见她执意要走，便亲切地邀请她再来，要她散步有可能的话，来这儿听她弹琴，范妮感到只要家里不反对，倒有必要这么办。
　　这两人在两位伯特伦小姐走后半个月内形成的亲密关系，就是这样开始的。这主要是克劳福德小姐图新鲜的缘故，而范妮也没有什么真情实感。范妮每隔两三天去一次。她好像中了邪似的，不去就心里不踏实。然而她并不喜爱她，也和她想不到一块，请她去她也毫不领情，反正现在没有别人可请。跟她谈话也只是偶尔觉得好玩，并没有太大的乐趣。而就是这点好玩，也往往是拿她所敬重的人、所看重的事打趣，她跟着敷衍几句。不过，她还是去找她，两人趁这季节少有的温和天气，在格兰特太太的灌木林里一起漫步，常常一走就是半个小时。有时甚至不顾天气已凉，坐在已经没有浓荫遮掩的凳子上，久久地待在那儿，到后来范妮兴许会柔声细气地感叹秋天漫漫的情趣，恰在这时，一阵突如其来的冷风吹落了周围枝头的最后几片黄叶，两人忽地站起来，想走走路暖暖身子。
　　“这儿真美——非常美，”有一天她们这样一起坐着的时候，范妮环视着四周说。“我每次走进这片灌木林，就觉得树又长了，林子更美了。三年以前，这儿只不过是地边上的一排不像样的树篱，谁也没把它放在眼里，谁也想不到它会成什么景色，现在却变成了一条散步林荫道，很难说它是可贵在提供了方便，还是可贵在美化了环境。也许再过三年，我们会忘记——差不多忘记它原来是什么样子。时间的作用和思想的变化有多么奇妙，多么奇妙啊！”稍顿了顿，她又顺着后面的思路补充说：“如果人的哪一种天生技能可以说是比别的技能更加奇妙的话，我看就是记忆力。人的记忆力有强有弱，发展不平衡，似乎比人的其他才智更加不可思议。记忆力有的时候又牢固，又管用，还温顺——别的时候又糊涂，又虚弱——还有的时候又很专横，无法驾驭！我们人各方面都堪称奇妙——但记忆力和遗忘力似乎尤为奇妙无比。”
　　克劳福德小姐无动于衷也心不在焉，因而无话可说。范妮看出来了，便把思绪又扯回到她认为有趣的事情上。
　　“也许我来赞赏有些冒昧，不过我真钦佩格兰特太太在这方面表现出的情趣。这散步林荫道设计得多么幽静、多么朴实呀！没有多少人工雕琢的痕迹！”
　　“是的，”克劳福德小姐漫不经心地说，“对这种地方来说，这是很不错的。人们在这儿也不求更多的内容。跟你私下说一句，我没来曼斯菲尔德之前，没想到一个乡下牧师还会想要搞个灌木林之类的名堂。”
　　“我很高兴，这冬青长得这么好啊！”范妮回道。“姨父的园丁总说这儿的土质比他那儿的好，从月桂和常青树的普遍长势来看，好像是这样的。看这常青树啊！多么好看，多么喜人，多么美妙啊！只要想一想，这是大自然多么令人惊奇的变种啊！在我们知道的某些地方，有一种落叶树就属于这一品种，真是令人奇怪，同样的土质、同样的阳光，养育出来的植物居然会有不同的生存规律。你会以为我在发狂。不过我一来到户外，特别是在户外静坐的时候，就会陷入这样的遐想。人即使眼盯着大自然最平常的产物，也会产生漫无边际的幻想。”
　　“说实话，”克劳福德小姐答道，“我有点像路易十四宫廷里的那位有名的总督，可以说从这灌木林里看不出任何奇妙之处，令人惊奇的是我会置身其中。要是一年前谁对我说这地方会成为我的家，说我会像现在这样一个月又一个月地住下去，我说什么也不会相信啊！我在这儿住了快五个月啦！而且是我有生以来过得最清闲的五个月。”
　　“我想对你来说太清闲了。”
　　“从理论上讲我看是的，不过，”克劳福德小姐说着两眼亮闪闪的，“总的说来，我从没度过这么快乐的夏天。不过，”脸上更是一副冥思苦索的祥子，同时压低了声音，“很难说以后会怎么样。”
　　范妮的心跳加快了，她不敢猜测她接着会讲什么，也不敢求她再往下讲。可是克劳福德小姐很快又兴致勃勃地说了下去：
　　“我从没想到我会适应乡下生活，现在感觉适应多了。我甚至觉得哪怕在乡下住上半年也挺有意思，而且在某些情况下还非常惬意。一座雅致的、大小适中的房子，四面八方都有亲戚，彼此常来常往，支配着附近的上流社交圈，甚至比更加富有的人还受人敬仰，这样的游兴过后，至少还能和自己最投机的人促膝谈心。这情景没有什么可怕的吧，普莱斯小姐？有了这样一个家，你就不用羡慕刚过门的拉什沃思太太了吧？”“羡慕拉什沃思太太！”范妮只说了这么一声。“得了，得了，我们这样苛刻地对待拉什沃思太太，未免太不厚道了，我还指望她给我们带来许多快快乐乐的时光呢。我期待来年我们都能到索瑟顿住上很长时间。伯特伦小姐的这门亲事对大家都是个福音，因为拉什沃思先生的妻子的最大乐趣，肯定是宾客满堂，举行乡下最高雅的舞会。”
　　范妮没有做声，克劳福德小姐重又陷入沉思。过了一会，她突然抬起眼来，惊叫道：“啊！他来了。”不过，来的不是拉什沃思先生，而是埃德蒙，只见他和格兰特太太一起朝她们走来。“是我姐姐和伯特伦先生——我很高兴你大表哥走了，埃德蒙又可以做伯特伦先生了①。埃德蒙·伯特伦先生听起来太刻板、太可怜、太像个小儿子的名字，我不喜欢这样叫。”
　　“我们的想法截然不同啊！”范妮嚷道。“我觉得‘伯特伦先生’听起来那么冷漠、那么呆板，一点也不亲切，丝毫没有个性！只表明是个男人，仅此而已。但是埃德蒙这个名字含有高贵的意味。它是英勇和威望的别称——国王、王子和爵士们都用过这个名字。它好像洋溢着骑士的精神和热烈的情感。”
　　“我承认这个名字本身是不错，而埃德蒙勋爵或埃德蒙爵士也确实好听。但是给它降低档次，只以‘先生’相称，那‘埃德蒙先生’比‘约翰先生’或‘托马斯先生’也强不到哪里。好了，他们又要教训我
　　①按英国的习惯，一个家庭的子女中，只有大儿子、大女儿可以用“姓加先生、小姐”来称呼，而二儿子、二女儿以下要正式称呼某某先生、小姐时，还必须在前面另加上教名。们这个季节不该坐在外边了，我们是不是趁他们还没开口，赶紧站起来，叫他们少说几句？”
　　埃德蒙遇到她们非常高兴。他听说她们两人关系更加亲密，心里不禁大为满意，但这还是第一次见到她们两人在一起。他所心爱的两个姑娘能彼此交好，真让他求之不得。权且说难得情人心有灵犀吧，他认为她们两人交好，范妮绝不是唯一的，甚至不是主要的受益者。
　　“喂，”克劳福德小姐说，“你不会责骂我们不谨慎吧？你不会认为我们坐在外边就是等着挨训，等着别人恳求我们以后不要再这样吗？”
　　“如果你们俩哪个独自一人坐在外边，”埃德蒙说，“我也许是会责骂的。不过你们两个一起犯错误，我可以大加宽容了。”
　　“她们坐在外面的时间不会长，”格兰特太太嚷道。“我到楼上拿披巾的时候，从楼梯上的窗户里看见了她们，那时她们还在散步呢。”
　　“其实，”埃德蒙补充说，“天气这么暖和，你们在外边坐几分钟也算不上不谨慎。我们不能总是靠日历来判断天气。有时候，我们在1 1月可能比在5月还随意些。”
　　“真是的，”克劳福德小姐嚷道，“像你们这种令人失望的、对人漠不关心的朋友真是少有啊！你们丝毫都不担心。你们不知道我们身上多么难受，冻成什么样子啦！不过，我早就知道女人要耍点违背常识的小花招，伯特伦先生是一个最不易上当的人。我从一开始对他就不抱什么希望。不过你嘛，格兰特太太，我的姐姐，我的亲姐姐，我想我会让你吓一跳的。”
　　“不要太自鸣得意了，最亲爱的玛丽。你压根儿吓不住我。我有我担心的事，但完全是在别的方面。我要是能改变天气的话，就来一场刺骨的东风始终吹着你们。我有几盆花，因为夜里还不冷，罗伯特非要把花放在外边。我知道结果会怎样：肯定会突然变天，一下子天寒地冻，搞得大家（至少罗伯特）措手不及，我的花会统统冻死。更糟糕的是，厨子刚刚告诉我说火鸡放不过明天了，我原想放到礼拜天再收拾了吃，因为我知道格兰特博士劳累了一天，礼拜天吃起来会格外香。这些事才值得发愁，让我觉得天气闷得反常。”
　　“在乡下料理家务可是其乐无穷啊！”克劳福德小姐调皮地说。“把我介绍给花圃工和家禽贩子吧。”
　　“我的好妹妹，你先介绍格兰特博士去做威斯特敏斯特教长或圣保罗教长，我就把你介绍给花圃工或家禽贩子。不过，曼斯菲尔德没有这号人。你想让我干什么呢？”
　　“噢！你除了已在于的事什么也不要干：只要常常受气，可千万不要发火。”
　　“谢谢你。但是，不论你住在哪里，玛丽，你总是避免不了这些小小的烦恼。等你在伦敦安了家，我去看你的时候，我敢说你也会有你的烦恼，尽管你有花圃工和家禽贩子——也许就是他们给你带来的烦恼。他们住得远，来得不守时，或者要价太高，骗你的钱，这些都会让你大叫其苦。”
　　“我想做到很有钱，既不用叫苦，也不在乎这类事情。大笔的收入是确保幸福的万应灵药。只要有了钱，就一定会有桃金娘和火鸡之类的东西。”
　　“你想做到很有钱，”埃德蒙说。在范妮看来，他的眼神极为严肃认真。
　　“那当然。难道你不想？难道还有谁不想吗？”
　　“我不去想我根本办不到的事。克劳福德小姐可以选择她要富到什么地步。她只要定下一年要几千英镑，无疑都会到来。我的愿望是只要不穷就行。”
　　“采取节制节俭、量人为出之类的措施。我了解你。对于你这样的年纪、收入有限、又没有什么靠山的人来说，这倒是个很恰当的计划。你只不过是想生活上过得去吧？你平常没有多少时间，你的亲戚们既帮不了你什么忙，也不是有钱有势让你自惭形秽。那就老老实实地做穷人吧——不过，我可不羡慕你。我认为我甚至不会敬重你。我对那些又老实又有钱的人，倒是敬重得多。”
　　“你对老实人（不管是有钱的还是没钱的）敬重到什么地步，恰恰是我漠不关心的。我并不想做穷人。我绝对不愿意做穷人。如果介于贫富之间，具有中等的物质条件，我只希望你不要瞧不起这样的老实人。”
　　“如果能向上却不向上，我就是瞧不起。本来可以出入头地，却又甘愿默默无闻，我是一概瞧不起。”
　　“可是怎么向上呢？我这个老实人怎么出入头地呢？”
　　这可是个不大容易回答的问题，那位漂亮的小姐只是长“噢！”了一声，然后又补充了一句：“你应该进国会，或者十年前就该去参军。”
　　“现在说这话已经没用了。至于进国会，我想我得等到有一届特别国会，专让没钱的小儿子们代表参加。不，克劳福德小姐，”埃德蒙以更严肃的口气补充说，“还是有出人头地的门路的，我觉得我并非可怜巴巴的一点机会都没有——丝毫没有成功的机会或可能——不过，那完全是另一种性质。”
　　埃德蒙说话时露出难为情的样子，克劳福德小姐笑哈哈地回答了一句，神情好像也不自然，范妮看到这般情景，觉得心里不是滋味。她眼下走在格兰特太太身边跟在那两人后边，感觉无法再跟着走下去了，几乎打定主意要马上回家，只等鼓起勇气开口。恰在此时，曼斯菲尔德庄园的大钟响了三下，使她意识到她这次在外边待的时间确实比平时长得多，于是她先前自问的是否应该立即告别，以及如何告别，很快有了答案。她毫不迟疑地立即开始告别。这时埃德蒙也想起，母亲一直在找她，他是到牧师住宅来叫她回去的。
　　范妮越发着急了。她丝毫没想到埃德蒙会陪她回去，本打算一个人匆匆走掉。但是大家都加快了脚步，陪她一起走进必须穿过的房子。格兰特博士就在门厅里，几个人停下来和他说话的时候，范妮从埃德蒙的举动中看得出来，他真想和她一起走。他也在向主人家告别。范妮心里油然浮出一股感激之情。告别的时候，格兰特博士邀请埃德蒙第二天过来和他一起吃羊肉。范妮这时心里不是很愉快，可就在这当儿，格兰特太太突然有所醒悟，转过身来邀她也来吃饭。范妮长了这么大，还从未受过这样的厚待，因此惊奇万分，不知所措。她结结巴巴地表示不胜感激，随即说了声她“恐怕做不了主”，便望着埃德蒙求他帮助拿主意。埃德蒙很高兴范妮受到邀请，便看了她一眼，用短短一句话向她表明，只要她姨妈不反对，她没有什么不能来的，而他觉得母亲决不会阻拦她，因此明言直语地建议她接受邀请。虽说范妮即使受到埃德蒙的鼓励之后也不敢贸然做主，但事情很快说定：如果收不到不来的通知，格兰特太太就准备她会来。
　　“你们知道明天会吃到什么，”格兰特太太笑吟吟地说。“火鸡——我保证是一只烧得很不错的火鸡。因为，亲爱的，”说着转向丈夫，“厨子非要明天剖洗那只火鸡。”
　　“很好，很好，”格兰特博士嚷遒，“这就更好。我很高兴家里有这么好的东西。不过我敢说，普莱斯小姐和埃德蒙·伯特伦先生会碰上什么吃什么的。我们谁也不想听菜单。我们只想来一次朋友间的聚会，而不是大摆宴席。火鸡也行，鹅也行，羊腿也行，随便你和厨子决定给我们吃什么。”
　　表兄妹一起走回家去。一出门，两人便谈起了明天的约会。埃德蒙说起来极为高兴，认为范妮和他们亲近真是再好不过了，完全是件大喜事。除此之外，两人一直默默地走着——因为谈完这件事之后，埃德蒙陷入沉思，不想再谈别的事。　

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 24楼发表于: 2013-10-28 0

Chapter Twenty-three

  "But why should Mrs. Grant ask Fanny?" said Lady Bertram. "How came she to think of asking Fanny? Fanny never dines there, you know, in this sort of way. I cannot spare her, and I am sure she does not want to go. Fanny, you do not want to go, do you?"

  "If you put such a question to her," cried Edmund, preventing his cousin's speaking, "Fanny will immediately say No; but I am sure, my dear mother, she would like to go; and I can see no reason why she should not."

  "I cannot imagine why Mrs. Grant should think of asking her? She never did before. She used to ask your sisters now and then, but she never asked Fanny."

  "If you cannot do without me, ma'am--" said Fanny, in a self-denying tone.

  "But my mother will have my father with her all the evening."

  "To be sure, so I shall."

  "Suppose you take my father's opinion, ma'am."

  "That's well thought of. So I will, Edmund. I will ask Sir Thomas, as soon as he comes in, whether I can do without her."

  "As you please, ma'am, on that head; but I meant my father's opinion as to the _propriety_ of the invitation's being accepted or not; and I think he will consider it a right thing by Mrs. Grant, as well as by Fanny, that being the _first_ invitation it should be accepted."

  "I do not know. We will ask him. But he will be very much surprised that Mrs. Grant should ask Fanny at all."

  There was nothing more to be said, or that could be said to any purpose, till Sir Thomas were present; but the subject involving, as it did, her own evening's comfort for the morrow, was so much uppermost in Lady Bertram's mind, that half an hour afterwards, on his looking in for a minute in his way from his plantation to his dressing-room, she called him back again, when he had almost closed the door, with "Sir Thomas, stop a moment--I have something to say to you."

  Her tone of calm languor, for she never took the trouble of raising her voice, was always heard and attended to; and Sir Thomas came back. Her story began; and Fanny immediately slipped out of the room; for to hear herself the subject of any discussion with her uncle was more than her nerves could bear. She was anxious, she knew-- more anxious perhaps than she ought to be--for what was it after all whether she went or staid? but if her uncle were to be a great while considering and deciding, and with very grave looks, and those grave looks directed to her, and at last decide against her, she might not be able to appear properly submissive and indifferent. Her cause, meanwhile, went on well. It began, on Lady Bertram's part, with--"I have something to tell you that will surprise you. Mrs. Grant has asked Fanny to dinner."

  "Well," said Sir Thomas, as if waiting more to accomplish the surprise.

  "Edmund wants her to go. But how can I spare her?"

  "She will be late," said Sir Thomas, taking out his watch; "but what is your difficulty?"

  Edmund found himself obliged to speak and fill up the blanks in his mother's story. He told the whole; and she had only to add, "So strange! for Mrs. Grant never used to ask her."

  "But is it not very natural," observed Edmund, "that Mrs. Grant should wish to procure so agreeable a visitor for her sister?"

  "Nothing can be more natural," said Sir Thomas, after a short deliberation; "nor, were there no sister in the case, could anything, in my opinion, be more natural. Mrs. Grant's shewing civility to Miss Price, to Lady Bertram's niece, could never want explanation. The only surprise I can feel is, that this should be the _first_ time of its being paid. Fanny was perfectly right in giving only a conditional answer. She appears to feel as she ought. But as I conclude that she must wish to go, since all young people like to be together, I can see no reason why she should be denied the indulgence."

  "But can I do without her, Sir Thomas?"

  "Indeed I think you may."

  "She always makes tea, you know, when my sister is not here."

  "Your sister, perhaps, may be prevailed on to spend the day with us, and I shall certainly be at home."

  "Very well, then, Fanny may go, Edmund."

  The good news soon followed her. Edmund knocked at her door in his way to his own.

  "Well, Fanny, it is all happily settled, and without the smallest hesitation on your uncle's side. He had but one opinion. You are to go."

  "Thank you, I am _so_ glad," was Fanny's instinctive reply; though when she had turned from him and shut the door, she could not help feeling, "And yet why should I be glad? for am I not certain of seeing or hearing something there to pain me?"

  In spite of this conviction, however, she was glad. Simple as such an engagement might appear in other eyes, it had novelty and importance in hers, for excepting the day at Sotherton, she had scarcely ever dined out before; and though now going only half a mile, and only to three people, still it was dining out, and all the little interests of preparation were enjoyments in themselves. She had neither sympathy nor assistance from those who ought to have entered into her feelings and directed her taste; for Lady Bertram never thought of being useful to anybody, and Mrs. Norris, when she came on the morrow, in consequence of an early call and invitation from Sir Thomas, was in a very ill humour, and seemed intent only on lessening her niece's pleasure, both present and future, as much as possible.

  "Upon my word, Fanny, you are in high luck to meet with such attention and indulgence! You ought to be very much obliged to Mrs. Grant for thinking of you, and to your aunt for letting you go, and you ought to look upon it as something extraordinary; for I hope you are aware that there is no real occasion for your going into company in this sort of way, or ever dining out at all; and it is what you must not depend upon ever being repeated. Nor must you be fancying that the invitation is meant as any particular compliment to _you_; the compliment is intended to your uncle and aunt and me. Mrs. Grant thinks it a civility due to _us_ to take a little notice of you, or else it would never have come into her head, and you may be very certain that, if your cousin Julia had been at home, you would not have been asked at all."

  Mrs. Norris had now so ingeniously done away all Mrs. Grant's part of the favour, that Fanny, who found herself expected to speak, could only say that she was very much obliged to her aunt Bertram for sparing her, and that she was endeavouring to put her aunt's evening work in such a state as to prevent her being missed.

  "Oh! depend upon it, your aunt can do very well without you, or you would not be allowed to go. _I_ shall be here, so you may be quite easy about your aunt. And I hope you will have a very _agreeable_ day, and find it all mighty _delightful_. But I must observe that five is the very awkwardest of all possible numbers to sit down to table; and I cannot but be surprised that such an _elegant_ lady as Mrs. Grant should not contrive better! And round their enormous great wide table, too, which fills up the room so dreadfully! Had the doctor been contented to take my dining-table when I came away, as anybody in their senses would have done, instead of having that absurd new one of his own, which is wider, literally wider than the dinner-table here, how infinitely better it would have been! and how much more he would have been respected! for people are never respected when they step out of their proper sphere. Remember that, Fanny. Five--only five to be sitting round that table. However, you will have dinner enough on it for ten, I dare say."

  Mrs. Norris fetched breath, and went on again.

  "The nonsense and folly of people's stepping out of their rank and trying to appear above themselves, makes me think it right to give _you_ a hint, Fanny, now that you are going into company without any of us; and I do beseech and entreat you not to be putting yourself forward, and talking and giving your opinion as if you were one of your cousins--as if you were dear Mrs. Rushworth or Julia. _That_ will never do, believe me. Remember, wherever you are, you must be the lowest and last; and though Miss Crawford is in a manner at home at the Parsonage, you are not to be taking place of her. And as to coming away at night, you are to stay just as long as Edmund chuses. Leave him to settle _that_."

  "Yes, ma'am, I should not think of anything else."

  "And if it should rain, which I think exceedingly likely, for I never saw it more threatening for a wet evening in my life, you must manage as well as you can, and not be expecting the carriage to be sent for you. I certainly do not go home to-night, and, therefore, the carriage will not be out on my account; so you must make up your mind to what may happen, and take your things accordingly."

  Her niece thought it perfectly reasonable. She rated her own claims to comfort as low even as Mrs. Norris could; and when Sir Thomas soon afterwards, just opening the door, said, "Fanny, at what time would you have the carriage come round?" she felt a degree of astonishment which made it impossible for her to speak.

  "My dear Sir Thomas!" cried Mrs. Norris, red with anger, "Fanny can walk."

  "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?"

  "Yes, sir," was Fanny's humble answer, given with the feelings almost of a criminal towards Mrs. Norris; and not bearing to remain with her in what might seem a state of triumph, she followed her uncle out of the room, having staid behind him only long enough to hear these words spoken in angry agitation--

  "Quite unnecessary! a great deal too kind! But Edmund goes; true, it is upon Edmund's account. I observed he was hoarse on Thursday night."

  But this could not impose on Fanny. She felt that the carriage was for herself, and herself alone: and her uncle's consideration of her, coming immediately after such representations from her aunt, cost her some tears of gratitude when she was alone.

  The coachman drove round to a minute; another minute brought down the gentleman; and as the lady had, with a most scrupulous fear of being late, been many minutes seated in the drawing-room, Sir Thomas saw them off in as good time as his own correctly punctual habits required.

  "Now I must look at you, Fanny," said Edmund, with the kind smile of an affectionate brother, "and tell you how I like you; and as well as I can judge by this light, you look very nicely indeed. What have you got on?"

  "The new dress that my uncle was so good as to give me on my cousin's marriage. I hope it is not too fine; but I thought I ought to wear it as soon as I could, and that I might not have such another opportunity all the winter. I hope you do not think me too fine."

  "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?"

  In approaching the Parsonage they passed close by the stable-yard and coach-house.

  "Heyday!" said Edmund, "here's company, here's a carriage! who have they got to meet us?" And letting down the side-glass to distinguish, "'Tis Crawford's, Crawford's barouche, I protest! There are his own two men pushing it back into its old quarters. He is here, of course. This is quite a surprise, Fanny. I shall be very glad to see him."

  There was no occasion, there was no time for Fanny to say how very differently she felt; but the idea of having such another to observe her was a great increase of the trepidation with which she performed the very awful ceremony of walking into the drawing-room.

  In the drawing-room Mr. Crawford certainly was, having been just long enough arrived to be ready for dinner; and the smiles and pleased looks of the three others standing round him, shewed how welcome was his sudden resolution of coming to them for a few days on leaving Bath. A very cordial meeting passed between him and Edmund; and with the exception of Fanny, the pleasure was general; and even to _her_ there might be some advantage in his presence, since every addition to the party must rather forward her favourite indulgence of being suffered to sit silent and unattended to. She was soon aware of this herself; for though she must submit, as her own propriety of mind directed, in spite of her aunt Norris's opinion, to being the principal lady in company, and to all the little distinctions consequent thereon, she found, while they were at table, such a happy flow of conversation prevailing, in which she was not required to take any part--there was so much to be said between the brother and sister about Bath, so much between the two young men about hunting, so much of politics between Mr. Crawford and Dr. Grant, and of everything and all together between Mr. Crawford and Mrs. Grant, as to leave her the fairest prospect of having only to listen in quiet, and of passing a very agreeable day. She could not compliment the newly arrived gentleman, however, with any appearance of interest, in a scheme for extending his stay at Mansfield, and sending for his hunters from Norfolk, which, suggested by Dr. Grant, advised by Edmund, and warmly urged by the two sisters, was soon in possession of his mind, and which he seemed to want to be encouraged even by her to resolve on. Her opinion was sought as to the probable continuance of the open weather, but her answers were as short and indifferent as civility allowed. She could not wish him to stay, and would much rather not have him speak to her.

  Her two absent cousins, especially Maria, were much in her thoughts on seeing him; but no embarrassing remembrance affected _his_ spirits. Here he was again on the same ground where all had passed before, and apparently as willing to stay and be happy without the Miss Bertrams, as if he had never known Mansfield in any other state. She heard them spoken of by him only in a general way, till they were all re-assembled in the drawing-room, when Edmund, being engaged apart in some matter of business with Dr. Grant, which seemed entirely to engross them, and Mrs. Grant occupied at the tea-table, he began talking of them with more particularity to his other sister. With a significant smile, which made Fanny quite hate him, he said, "So! Rushworth and his fair bride are at Brighton, I understand; happy man!"

  "Yes, they have been there about a fortnight, Miss Price, have they not? And Julia is with them."

  "And Mr. Yates, I presume, is not far off."

  "Mr. Yates! Oh! we hear nothing of Mr. Yates. I do not imagine he figures much in the letters to Mansfield Park; do you, Miss Price? I think my friend Julia knows better than to entertain her father with Mr. Yates."

  "Poor Rushworth and his two-and-forty speeches!" continued Crawford. "Nobody can ever forget them. Poor fellow! I see him now--his toil and his despair. Well, I am much mistaken if his lovely Maria will ever want him to make two-and-forty speeches to her"; adding, with a momentary seriousness, "She is too good for him-- much too good." And then changing his tone again to one of gentle gallantry, and addressing Fanny, he said, "You were Mr. Rushworth's best friend. Your kindness and patience can never be forgotten, your indefatigable patience in trying to make it possible for him to learn his part-- in trying to give him a brain which nature had denied-- to mix up an understanding for him out of the superfluity of your own! _He_ might not have sense enough himself to estimate your kindness, but I may venture to say that it had honour from all the rest of the party."

  Fanny coloured, and said nothing.

  "It is as a dream, a pleasant dream!" he exclaimed, breaking forth again, after a few minutes' musing. "I shall always look back on our theatricals with exquisite pleasure. There was such an interest, such an animation, such a spirit diffused. Everybody felt it. We were all alive. There was employment, hope, solicitude, bustle, for every hour of the day. Always some little objection, some little doubt, some little anxiety to be got over. I never was happier."

  With silent indignation Fanny repeated to herself, "Never happier!--never happier than when doing what you must know was not justifiable!--never happier than when behaving so dishonourably and unfeelingly! Oh! what a corrupted mind!"

  "We were unlucky, Miss Price," he continued, in a lower tone, to avoid the possibility of being heard by Edmund, and not at all aware of her feelings, "we certainly were very unlucky. Another week, only one other week, would have been enough for us. I think if we had had the disposal of events--if Mansfield Park had had the government of the winds just for a week or two, about the equinox, there would have been a difference. Not that we would have endangered his safety by any tremendous weather-- but only by a steady contrary wind, or a calm. I think, Miss Price, we would have indulged ourselves with a week's calm in the Atlantic at that season."

  He seemed determined to be answered; and Fanny, averting her face, said, with a firmer tone than usual, "As far as _I_ am concerned, sir, I would not have delayed his return for a day. My uncle disapproved it all so entirely when he did arrive, that in my opinion everything had gone quite far enough."

  She had never spoken so much at once to him in her life before, and never so angrily to any one; and when her speech was over, she trembled and blushed at her own daring. He was surprised; but after a few moments' silent consideration of her, replied in a calmer, graver tone, and as if the candid result of conviction, "I believe you are right. It was more pleasant than prudent. We were getting too noisy." And then turning the conversation, he would have engaged her on some other subject, but her answers were so shy and reluctant that he could not advance in any.

  Miss Crawford, who had been repeatedly eyeing Dr. Grant and Edmund, now observed, "Those gentlemen must have some very interesting point to discuss."

  "The most interesting in the world," replied her brother-- "how to make money; how to turn a good income into a better. Dr. Grant is giving Bertram instructions about the living he is to step into so soon. I find he takes orders in a few weeks. They were at it in the dining-parlour. I am glad to hear Bertram will be so well off. He will have a very pretty income to make ducks and drakes with, and earned without much trouble. I apprehend he will not have less than seven hundred a year. Seven hundred a year is a fine thing for a younger brother; and as of course he will still live at home, it will be all for his _menus_ _plaisirs_; and a sermon at Christmas and Easter, I suppose, will be the sum total of sacrifice."

  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."

  "Perhaps I might; but all _that_ you know is entirely comparative. Birthright and habit must settle the business. Bertram is certainly well off for a cadet of even a baronet's family. By the time he is four or five and twenty he will have seven hundred a year, and nothing to do for it."

  Miss Crawford _could_ have said that there would be a something to do and to suffer for it, which she could not think lightly of; but she checked herself and let it pass; and tried to look calm and unconcerned when the two gentlemen shortly afterwards joined them.

  "Bertram," said Henry Crawford, "I shall make a point of coming to Mansfield to hear you preach your first sermon. I shall come on purpose to encourage a young beginner. When is it to be? Miss Price, will not you join me in encouraging your cousin? Will not you engage to attend with your eyes steadily fixed on him the whole time-- as I shall do--not to lose a word; or only looking off just to note down any sentence preeminently beautiful? We will provide ourselves with tablets and a pencil. When will it be? You must preach at Mansfield, you know, that Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram may hear you."

  "I shall keep clear of you, Crawford, as long as I can," said Edmund; "for you would be more likely to disconcert me, and I should be more sorry to see you trying at it than almost any other man."

  "Will he not feel this?" thought Fanny. "No, he can feel nothing as he ought."

  The party being now all united, and the chief talkers attracting each other, she remained in tranquillity; and as a whist-table was formed after tea--formed really for the amusement of Dr. Grant, by his attentive wife, though it was not to be supposed so--and Miss Crawford took her harp, she had nothing to do but to listen; and her tranquillity remained undisturbed the rest of the evening, except when Mr. Crawford now and then addressed to her a question or observation, which she could not avoid answering. Miss Crawford was too much vexed by what had passed to be in a humour for anything but music. With that she soothed herself and amused her friend.

  The assurance of Edmund's being so soon to take orders, coming upon her like a blow that had been suspended, and still hoped uncertain and at a distance, was felt with resentment and mortification. She was very angry with him. She had thought her influence more. She _had_ begun to think of him; she felt that she had, with great regard, with almost decided intentions; but she would now meet him with his own cool feelings. It was plain that he could have no serious views, no true attachment, by fixing himself in a situation which he must know she would never stoop to. She would learn to match him in his indifference. She would henceforth admit his attentions without any idea beyond immediate amusement. If _he_ could so command his affections, _hers_ should do her no harm.

　　“可格兰特太太为什么要请范妮呢？”伯特伦夫人问。“她怎么会想到请范妮呢？你也知道，范妮从来没有这样去那里吃过饭。我不能放她去，我想她肯定也不想去。范妮，你不想去吧？”
　　“你要是这样问她，”埃德蒙不等范妮回答便嚷道，“范妮马上会说不想去。不过，亲爱的妈妈，我敢肯定她想去。我看不出她有什么不想去的。”
　　“我捉摸不透格兰特太太怎么会想起来请她。她以前可从没请过她。她不时地请你两个妹妹，可从没请过范妮。”
　　“你要是离不开我的话，姨妈——”范妮以准备自我放弃的口吻说。
　　“可是，我母亲可以让我父亲陪她一晚上呀。”
　　“我的确可以这样。”
　　“你是否听听父亲的意见，妈妈。”
　　“这倒是个好主意。我就这么办，埃德蒙。等托马斯爵士一进来，我就问他我能不能离开范妮。”
　　“这个问题由你自己决定，妈妈。不过，我的意思是让你问问父亲怎么做妥当：是接受邀请还是不接受。我想他会认为，不管对格兰特太太来说，还是对范妮来说，鉴于这是第一次邀请，按理还是应该接受的。”
　　“我说不上。我们可以问问你父亲。不过，他会感到很奇怪，格兰特太太怎么会请范妮。”
　　在没有见到托马斯爵士之前，再也没有什么话可说了，说也不能解决问题。不过，这件事关系到伯特伦夫人第二天晚上的安乐，因此她心里总也搁不下。半小时后，托马斯爵士从种植园回梳妆室，路过时进来看了看，就在已经走出去要关门的时候，伯特伦夫人又把他叫了回来：“托马斯爵士，你停一停——我有话跟你说。”
　　她说话从来不肯大声，总是平平静静，有气无力，不过托马斯爵士总能听得清楚，从不怠慢。于是他又回来了，夫人便讲起来了。范妮连忙悄悄走出房去，因为姨妈和姨父谈论的事与她有关，她没法硬着头皮听下去。她知道自己很焦急——也许焦急得有点过分——其实她去与不去又有什么关系呢？不过，要是姨父需要琢磨很久，而且板着一副面孔，正色地盯着她，最后再决定不让她去，她就很难显出坦然接受、满不在乎的样子。这时候，有关她的事正在顺利地商谈。伯特伦夫人先开了个头：“我告诉你一件让你惊奇的事儿。格兰特太太请范妮去吃饭！”
　　“哦，”抚马斯爵士说，好像并不觉得有什么值得惊奇的，在等她继续往下说。
　　“埃德蒙想让她去。可我怎么离得开她呀？”
　　“她会回来得晚些，”托马斯爵士一边说，一边取出表来，“可你有什么为难的？”
　　埃德蒙觉得自己不能不开口，不能不把母亲没讲到的地方给补全。他把事情一五一十地说了一遍，伯特伦夫人只补充了一句：“真奇怪呀！格兰特太太从来没有请过她。”
　　“不过，”埃德蒙说，“格兰特太太想给她妹妹请来一位这么招人喜欢的客人，这不是很自然吗？”
　　“真是再自然不过了，”托马斯爵士略加思索后说。“这件事即使不涉及那做妹妹的，我认为也是再自然不过了。格兰特太太对普莱斯小姐，对伯特伦夫人的外甥女施之以礼，这决没有什么需要解释的。我唯一感到惊奇的是，她现在才第一次对她表现出这样的礼貌。范妮当时回答要视情况而定，这是完全正确的。看来她也有人之常情。既然年轻人都喜欢和年轻人在一起，我断定她心里自然也想去，因此我认为没有什么理由不让她去。”
　　“可我离得开她吗，托马斯爵士？”
　　“我认为你当然离得开她。”
　　“你知道，我姐姐不在这儿的时候，茶点总是由她来准备。”
　　“也许可以动员你姐姐在我们家待一天，我也肯定会在家。”
　　“那好，范妮可以去啦，埃德蒙。”
　　这好消息很快就传给了范妮。埃德蒙回房的途中，敲了敲她的门。
　　“好了，范妮，事情圆满解决了，你姨父丝毫没有犹豫。他只有一个念头：你应该去。”
　　“谢谢你，我真高兴，”范妮本能地答道。不过，等她转过身关上了门，她又不禁在想：“可我为什么要高兴呢？难道我在那儿不也分明耳闻目睹了让我痛苦的事儿吗？”
　　然而．尽管这样想，心里还是很高兴。这样的邀请在别人看来也许算不了什么，在她看来却是又新鲜又了不起。除了去索瑟顿那天外，她还从没在别人家吃过饭。这次出去虽然只走半英里路，主人家只有三个人，然而总还算出门赴宴吧，因而动身前种种细小而有趣的准备工作，本身就让人乐滋滋的。那些本该体谅她的心情、指导她如何穿戴打扮的人，却既不体谅她，也不帮助她。伯特伦夫人从来没有想过帮助别人，而诺里斯太太则是第二天一早由托马斯爵士登门请来的，心情很不好，似乎只想尽可能杀杀外甥女的风景，让她眼下和以后不要那么高兴。
　　“说实话，范妮，你受到这样的抬举和恩宠，真是万幸啊！你应该感谢格兰特太太能想到你，感谢二姨妈放你去，还应该把这看做一件非同寻常的事。我希望你心里放明白，其实还真犯不着让你这样去做客，或者让你外出赴宴。你不要以为以后还会有第二回。你也不要想入非非，认为人家请你是为了特别抬举你，人家是冲着你二姨父、二姨妈和我的面子才请你的。格兰特太太是为了讨好我们，才对你稍加另眼相待，不然的话，她怎么也不会想到请你。我向你担保，要是你朱莉娅表姐在家，那就决不会请你。”
　　诺里斯太太的这番巧诈之言，把格兰特太太的那份美意抹杀殆尽，范妮料想自己应该表个态，便只能说她非常感谢伯特伦姨妈放她去，并表示尽力把姨妈晚上要做的活计准备好，免得姨妈因为她不在而感觉不便。
　　“噢！放心吧，你二姨妈完全离得开你，不然就不会让你去。我会在这儿的，因此你丝毫不必为二姨妈担心。我希望你令天过得非常愉快，万分高兴。不过，我要说一句，五个人坐在一起吃饭，这是个再别扭不过的数字了，我真感到奇怪，像格兰特太太这么讲究的人，怎么就不能想得周到一些！而且围着他们那张大宽桌子，把整个屋子给占得满满当当！要是博士能像有头脑的人那样，在我离开时愿意留下我的那张饭桌，而不用他自己那张不伦不类的新饭桌，那不知道要强几百倍！他也会更加令人尊敬得多！他那张饭桌太宽，真比你们这里的这张还要宽。谁要是做事不讲规矩，那就决不会受人尊敬。记住这话，范妮。五个人，那么大的桌子只坐五个人哪！我敢说，十个人吃饭都坐得下。”
　　诺里斯太太喘了口气，又说了下去。
　　“有人不顾自己的身份，想显得自己了不起，实在是愚蠢无聊。因此我要提醒你，范妮：你这回是一个人出去做客，我们都不在场，我恳求你不要冒冒失失，信口开河，随意发表意见，好像你是你的哪位表姐，好像你是亲爱的拉什沃思太太或朱莉娅。相信我的话，这绝对不行。你要记住，不论在什么地方，你都是身份最低、位置最后的。尽管克劳福德小姐在牧师住宅里不算客人，但你也不能坐她该坐的位置。至于夜里什么时候回家，埃德蒙想待多久你就待多久。这事由他来决定。”
　　“好的，姨妈，我不会有别的想法的。”
　　“我想很可能要下雨，因为我从没见过像今晚这么阴沉沉的天气。要是下雨的话，你要尽量克服，不要指望派车去接你。我今天晚上肯定不回去，因此也就不会为我出车。你要有个防备，该带的东西都带上。”
　　外甥女觉得大姨妈的话完全在理。其实，她对自己安适的要求并不高，甚至像诺里斯太太所说的一样低。过了不久，托马斯爵士推开了门，没等进屋就说：“范妮，你想让马车什么时候来送你？”范妮惊奇得说不出话来。
　　“亲爱的托马斯爵士！”诺里斯太太气得满脸通红地大声囔道。“范妮可以走着去。”
　　“走着去！”托马斯爵士以毋庸置疑的庄严口吻重复了一声，随即向前走了几步。“叫我外甥女在这个季节走着去赴宴！四点二十分来送你可以吗？”
　　“可以，姨父，”范妮怯生生地答道，觉得说这话像是对诺里斯太太犯罪似的。她不敢再跟诺里斯太太待在屋里，怕人家觉得她得胜后心里洋洋得意，于是便跟着姨父走出房去，只听得诺里斯太太气冲冲地说了下面的话：
　　“完全没有必要嘛！心肠好得太过分了！不过，埃德蒙也要去。不错，是为了埃德蒙的缘故。星期四晚上我注意到他嗓子有些哑。”
　　不过，范妮并不相信她这话。她觉得马车是为她派的，而且是专为她自己派的。姨父是在听了大姨妈的数落后来关心她的，等她独自一人的时候，想到此情此景，不禁流下了感激的泪水。
　　车夫准时把马车赶来了。随后，埃德蒙也下楼来了。范妮小心翼翼地唯恐迟到，便早早地坐在客厅里等候。托马斯爵士已养成严格守时的习惯，准时地把他们送走了。
　　“范妮，我要看看你，”埃德蒙面带感情真挚的兄长的亲切微笑说，“并且对你说我是多么喜欢你。就凭这车里的光线我也看得出来，你真是很漂亮。你穿的什么衣服？”
　　“是表姐结婚时姨父给我买的那套新衣服。我希望不是太华丽。不过，我觉得我应该抓紧时机穿，就怕整个冬天不会再有这样的机会了。我希望你不觉得我穿得太华丽。”
　　“女人穿着一身白衣服，无论如何也不会太华丽。不，我看你穿得不华丽，而是恰到好处。你的长裙看起来很漂亮。我喜欢上边这些光亮的斑点。克劳福德个姐是不是也有一件跟你这件差不多的长裙？”
　　快到牧师住宅了，马车打马厩和马车房旁边走过。
　　“嘿！”埃德蒙大声叫道，“还请来了别人，来了一辆马车！他们请谁来陪我们呀？”说着放下车窗，想看个仔细。“是克劳福德的马车，克劳福德的四轮马车，我敢断定！他的两个仆人在把马车往过去存车的地方推。他肯定也来了。真是意想不到啊，范妮。我好高兴能见到他。”
　　范妮没有机会，也没有时间说明她的心情和他大不相同。本来，要拘泥礼仪地走进客厅已经够让她感到可怕了，再一想到又多了一个人注视她，她那颗胆怯的心越发为之忐忑不安。
　　克劳福德先生的确就在客厅里，而且到得挺早，已做好吃饭的准备。另外三个人喜笑颜开地立在他周围，表明他们对他离开巴斯之后突然决定来他们这里住几天是多么欢迎。他和埃德蒙彼此亲切地寒暄了一番。除了范妮以外，大家都很高兴。即使对范妮来说，他的到来也有几分好处，因为宴席上每增加一个人，都会进一步促使她不受众人注意，她尽可默默不语地坐着，这正是她求之不得的。她也很快意识到了这一点。尽管诺里斯太太对她有过告诫，但她出于礼仪上的考虑，只得勉强担当起宴席上主要女宾的角色，并且领受由此而来的种种小小的礼遇。不过，在饭桌上坐定之后，她发现大家都在兴高采烈地侃侃而谈，谁也没有要求她参加他们的谈话 ——那兄妹俩有许多关于巴斯的话要说，两个年轻人有许多关于打猎的话要说，克劳福德先生和格兰特博士有许多关于政治的话要说，而克劳福德先生和格兰特太太之间更是天南地北地说个没完，这样一来，她就只需悄悄地坐在那里听别人说话，乐融融地度过这段时光。然而，她对那位新未的先生，却没有表现出丝毫的兴趣。格兰特博士建议克劳福德先生在曼斯菲尔德多住些日子，并派人到诺福克把他的猎马都送过来，埃德蒙也跟着劝说，他的两个姐妹更是起劲地鼓动，他很快就动了心，似乎还希望范妮也来鼓励他，让他好打定主意。他问范妮这暖和的天气大概能持续多久，范妮只是在礼貌允许的范围内，给了他一个简短的、冷漠的回答。她不希望他在这里住下去，也不希望他跟她说话。
　　她看到克劳福德先生，心里总是想着两个出门在外的表姐，特别是玛丽亚。不过，对于克劳福德先生来说，回忆起令人尴尬的往事并不会影响他的情绪。他又回到了曾发生过种种纠葛的这片土地上，看起来，即使没有两位伯特伦小姐，他也照样愿意住在这里，照样快活，好像他从不知道曼斯菲尔德有过那两位小姐似的。没有回到客厅之前，范妮只听见他笼而统之地提到她们俩。回到客厅后，埃德蒙和格兰特博士到一边聚精会神地谈什么正经事去了，格兰特太太在茶桌旁专心致志地品茶。这时，克劳福德先生比较具体地跟他姐姐谈起了那姐妹俩。他意味深长地笑着说：“啊！这么说来，拉什沃思和他的漂亮新娘眼下在布赖顿——好幸福的人儿啊！” 范妮看到他笑的样子就讨厌。
　　“是的，他们是去了那儿——大约有两个星期了吧，普莱斯小姐？朱莉娅和他们在一起。”
　　“我想，耶茨先生也离他们不远。”
　　“耶茨先生！噢！我们一点也没听到耶茨先生的消息。我猜想，写给曼斯菲尔德的信不大讲耶茨先生。你是否也这样想，普莱斯小姐？我想我的朋友朱莉娅心里有数，不会拿耶茨先生去逗她父亲。”
　　“拉什沃思好可怜，要背四十二段台词啊！”克劳福德继续说道。“谁也忘不了他背台词的情景。这家伙真可怜呀！他那拼命的样子，绝望的样子，我现在还历历在目。唉，要是他可爱的玛丽亚什么时候还想让他对她讲那四十二段台词，那才怪呢。”这时正经了片刻，补充说：“玛丽亚太好了，他配不上——实在太好了。”接着，又换成柔声细气献殷勤的腔调，对范妮说道：“你是拉什沃思先生最好的朋友。你的好心和耐心是永远令人难忘的，你不厌其烦地想帮他记住台词——想给他一个他天生没有的头脑——想用你那用不完的智慧使他变得聪明起来！他是没有头脑的，也许看不出你心地有多好，不过我敢说，其他人无不感到敬佩。”
　　范妮脸红了，没有吭声。
　　“真像是一场梦，一场惬意的梦！”克劳福德经过一番思索，又感叹道。“我将永远怀着极度愉快的心情来回忆我们的业余演出。大家都那样兴致盎然，那样朝气蓬勃，那样喜气洋洋！人人都感觉得到。我们每个人都活跃了起来。一天当中，我们时时刻刻都有事情干，都抱着希望，都有所操心，都忙忙碌碌。总要克服一点小小的阻力，解除一点小小的疑虑，打消一点小小的忧虑。我从来没有那样快乐过。”
　　范妮愤愤不语，只是心里说：“从来没有那样愉快过！从来没有像你做你明知不正经的事情那样快乐过！从来没有像你干那卑鄙无耻、无情无义的勾当那样快乐过！唉！内心多么腐朽啊！”
　　“我们不走运，普莱斯小姐，”克劳福德压低了声音继续说道，免得让埃德蒙听见，他完全没有察觉范妮的情绪，“我们的确很不走运。我们再有一个星期，只要再有一个星期，就够了。我想，如果我们能有呼风唤雨的本事——如果曼斯菲尔德庄园能把秋分时节的风雨掌管一两个星期，那情况就不同了。我们并不是要来一场狂风暴雨危及他的安全——而只想来一场持续不停的逆风，或者来个风平浪静。我想，普莱斯小姐，那时候只要大西洋能风平浪静一个星期，我们就可以尽兴演完了。”
　　克劳福德似乎非要对方回答他。范妮转过脸去，以少有的坚定口吻说：“就我而言，先生，我不愿意他晚回来一天。我姨父一回来就坚决反对，在我看来，整个事情已经很过分了。”
　　范妮还从未对克劳福德一次说这么多话，也从未对任何人这么气冲冲地说过话。话说完后，她对自己的胆量感到后怕、脸红。克劳福德也为之吃惊。不过，他默默不语地对她琢磨了一阵，然后用比较平静而严肃的口吻回答道，好像挺坦率、挺信服似的：“我认为你说得对。我们有些只求快乐不顾规矩。我们闹得太厉害了。”接着，他转换了话题，想跟她谈点别的事情，但是范妮回答起来总是那么羞怯，那么勉强，无论什么问题，他都无法跟她谈下去。
　　克劳福德小姐一直在密切地注视着格兰特博士和埃德蒙，这时说道：“那两个人一定是在讨论什么很有意思的事。”
　　“世界上最有意思的事，”她哥哥答道，“如何赚钱——如何使收入好上加好。格兰特博士在教埃德蒙如何去担任他即将担任的牧师职位。我发现，埃德蒙再过几个星期就要当牧师了。他们刚才在餐厅里就在谈论这件事。听说伯特伦要过好日子了，我真为他感到高兴。他会有一笔很可观的收入供他挥霍，而且这笔收入挣得不费多大力气。我估计，他一年的收入不会少于七百英镑。对于一个小儿子来说，一年能有七百英镑就很不错了。再说，他肯定还会在家里吃住，这笔收入只供他个人花销。我想，他只需在圣诞节和复活节各讲一次道。”
　　做妹妹的想一笑置之，说道：“自己比别人阔得多，却轻松地说别人富有，我觉得最可笑不过。亨利，你的个人花销要是给限制在一年七百英镑，你就会茫然不知所措了。”
　　“也许我会的。不过，你说的这情况也是比较而言。事情取决于与生俱来的权利和个人的习惯。对于一个小儿子来说，即使父亲是准男爵，伯特伦有这笔收入当然也算很富裕了。到他二十四五岁的时候，他一年会有七百英镑的收入，而且是毫不费事儿得来的。”
　　克劳福德小姐本来想说，挣这笔钱还是要费点事的，而且还要吃点苦，她认为并不轻松。不过，她又抑制住了自己，没有理他的茬，尽量摆出一副安之若素、漠不关心的面孔。过了不久，那两个人也过来了。
　　“伯特伦，”亨利·克劳福德说，“我一定来曼斯菲尔德听你第一次讲道。我特意来鼓励一个初试锋芒的年轻人。什么时候讲呀？普莱斯小姐，你不想和我一起鼓励你表哥吗？你想不想去听他讲道，始终目不转睛地盯着他，一字不漏地听他讲，只在要记录特别漂亮的语句时才把目光移开？我可是要这样做的。我们要准备好拍纸簿和铅笔。什么时候讲呀？你可知道，你应该在曼斯菲尔德讲，以便托马斯爵士和伯特伦夫人可以听你讲。”
　　“我要尽可能不让你听，克劳福德，”埃德蒙说，“因为你可能比谁都让我心慌，我也就最不愿意你来。”
　　“他想不到这一点吗？”范妮心想。“是的，他想不到他应该想的任何事情。”
　　这时，大伙都聚到了一起，话多的人相互吸引着，范妮依然安安静静地坐着。茶点过后，玩起了惠斯特——尽管没有明说，实际上是体贴人微的格兰特太太为使丈夫开心组织的——克劳福德小姐弹起了竖琴，范妮无事可干，只有听琴。晚上余下的时间里，她的这种平静心态一直没有受到打扰，只不过克劳福德先生会不时地问她一个问题，或者对她谈个什么看法，她免不了要回答两句。克劳福德小姐让刚听说的事搅得心烦意乱，除了弹琴之外，什么事情也没有心思干。她就想通过弹琴，给自己解解愁，给朋友们逗逗趣。
　　听说埃德蒙很快就要当牧师，对她是个沉重的打击。原来这件事一直悬在那里，她还希望是一件悬而未决、为时尚早的事情。今晚一听到这消息，她真是恼羞成怒。她对埃德蒙气愤至极。她过高估计了自己的影响。她本已开始倾心于他——她觉得她已经开始——满怀深情，心意几乎已定。可是现在，她也要像他那样冷漠地来面对他。他非要采取一种他明知对方决不会屈就的姿态，这足以表明他既没有认真的打算，也没有真正的情意。她要学会用同样冷漠的态度还报他。从此以后，他要是再向她献殷勤，她大不过跟他逢场作戏而已。既然他能控制他的感情，她也不能做感情的奴隶。　

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 25楼发表于: 2013-10-28 0

Chapter Twenty-four

  Henry Crawford had quite made up his mind by the next morning to give another fortnight to Mansfield, and having sent for his hunters, and written a few lines of explanation to the Admiral, he looked round at his sister as he sealed and threw the letter from him, and seeing the coast clear of the rest of the family, said, with a smile, "And how do you think I mean to amuse myself, Mary, on the days that I do not hunt? I am grown too old to go out more than three times a week; but I have a plan for the intermediate days, and what do you think it is?"

  "To walk and ride with me, to be sure."

  "Not exactly, though I shall be happy to do both, but _that_ would be exercise only to my body, and I must take care of my mind. Besides, _that_ would be all recreation and indulgence, without the wholesome alloy of labour, and I do not like to eat the bread of idleness. No, my plan is to make Fanny Price in love with me."

  "Fanny Price! Nonsense! No, no. You ought to be satisfied with her two cousins."

  "But I cannot be satisfied without Fanny Price, without making a small hole in Fanny Price's heart. You do not seem properly aware of her claims to notice. When we talked of her last night, you none of you seemed sensible of the wonderful improvement that has taken place in her looks within the last six weeks. You see her every day, and therefore do not notice it; but I assure you she is quite a different creature from what she was in the autumn. She was then merely a quiet, modest, not plain-looking girl, but she is now absolutely pretty. I used to think she had neither complexion nor countenance; but in that soft skin of hers, so frequently tinged with a blush as it was yesterday, there is decided beauty; and from what I observed of her eyes and mouth, I do not despair of their being capable of expression enough when she has anything to express. And then, her air, her manner, her _tout_ _ensemble_, is so indescribably improved! She must be grown two inches, at least, since October."

  "Phoo! phoo! This is only because there were no tall women to compare her with, and because she has got a new gown, and you never saw her so well dressed before. She is just what she was in October, believe me. The truth is, that she was the only girl in company for you to notice, and you must have a somebody. I have always thought her pretty--not strikingly pretty--but 'pretty enough,' as people say; a sort of beauty that grows on one. Her eyes should be darker, but she has a sweet smile; but as for this wonderful degree of improvement, I am sure it may all be resolved into a better style of dress, and your having nobody else to look at; and therefore, if you do set about a flirtation with her, you never will persuade me that it is in compliment to her beauty, or that it proceeds from anything but your own idleness and folly."

  Her brother gave only a smile to this accusation, and soon afterwards said, "I do not quite know what to make of Miss Fanny. I do not understand her. I could not tell what she would be at yesterday. What is her character? Is she solemn? Is she queer? Is she prudish? Why did she draw back and look so grave at me? I could hardly get her to speak. 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."

  "Foolish fellow! And so this is her attraction after all! This it is, her not caring about you, which gives her such a soft skin, and makes her so much taller, and produces all these charms and graces! I do desire that you will not be making her really unhappy; a _little_ love, perhaps, may animate and do her good, but I will not have you plunge her deep, for she is as good a little creature as ever lived, and has a great deal of feeling."

  "It can be but for a fortnight," said Henry; "and if a fortnight can kill her, she must have a constitution which nothing could save. No, I will not do her any harm, dear little soul! only want her to look kindly on me, to give me smiles as well as blushes, to keep a chair for me by herself wherever we are, and be all animation when I take it and talk to her; to think as I think, be interested in all my possessions and pleasures, try to keep me longer at Mansfield, and feel when I go away that she shall be never happy again. I want nothing more."

  "Moderation itself!" said Mary. "I can have no scruples now. Well, you will have opportunities enough of endeavouring to recommend yourself, for we are a great deal together."

  And without attempting any farther remonstrance, she left Fanny to her fate, a fate which, had not Fanny's heart been guarded in a way unsuspected by Miss Crawford, might have been a little harder than she deserved; for although there doubtless are such unconquerable young ladies of eighteen (or one should not read about them) as are never to be persuaded into love against their judgment by all that talent, manner, attention, and flattery can do, I have no inclination to believe Fanny one of them, or to think that with so much tenderness of disposition, and so much taste as belonged to her, she could have escaped heart-whole from the courtship (though the courtship only of a fortnight) of such a man as Crawford, in spite of there being some previous ill opinion of him to be overcome, had not her affection been engaged elsewhere. With all the security which love of another and disesteem of him could give to the peace of mind he was attacking, his continued attentions--continued, but not obtrusive, and adapting themselves more and more to the gentleness and delicacy of her character--obliged her very soon to dislike him less than formerly. She had by no means forgotten the past, and she thought as ill of him as ever; but she felt his powers: he was entertaining; and his manners were so improved, so polite, so seriously and blamelessly polite, that it was impossible not to be civil to him in return.

  A very few days were enough to effect this; and at the end of those few days, circumstances arose which had a tendency rather to forward his views of pleasing her, inasmuch as they gave her a degree of happiness which must dispose her to be pleased with everybody. William, her brother, the so long absent and dearly loved brother, was in England again. She had a letter from him herself, a few hurried happy lines, written as the ship came up Channel, and sent into Portsmouth with the first boat that left the Antwerp at anchor in Spithead; and when Crawford walked up with the newspaper in his hand, which he had hoped would bring the first tidings, he found her trembling with joy over this letter, and listening with a glowing, grateful countenance to the kind invitation which her uncle was most collectedly dictating in reply.

  It was but the day before that Crawford had made himself thoroughly master of the subject, or had in fact become at all aware of her having such a brother, or his being in such a ship, but the interest then excited had been very properly lively, determining him on his return to town to apply for information as to the probable period of the Antwerp's return from the Mediterranean, etc.; and the good luck which attended his early examination of ship news the next morning seemed the reward of his ingenuity in finding out such a method of pleasing her, as well as of his dutiful attention to the Admiral, in having for many years taken in the paper esteemed to have the earliest naval intelligence. He proved, however, to be too late. All those fine first feelings, of which he had hoped to be the exciter, were already given. But his intention, the kindness of his intention, was thankfully acknowledged: quite thankfully and warmly, for she was elevated beyond the common timidity of her mind by the flow of her love for William.

  This dear William would soon be amongst them. There could be no doubt of his obtaining leave of absence immediately, for he was still only a midshipman; and as his parents, from living on the spot, must already have seen him, and be seeing him perhaps daily, his direct holidays might with justice be instantly given to the sister, who had been his best correspondent through a period of seven years, and the uncle who had done most for his support and advancement; and accordingly the reply to her reply, fixing a very early day for his arrival, came as soon as possible; and scarcely ten days had passed since Fanny had been in the agitation of her first dinner-visit, when she found herself in an agitation of a higher nature, watching in the hall, in the lobby, on the stairs, for the first sound of the carriage which was to bring her a brother.

  It came happily while she was thus waiting; and there being neither ceremony nor fearfulness to delay the moment of meeting, she was with him as he entered the house, and the first minutes of exquisite feeling had no interruption and no witnesses, unless the servants chiefly intent upon opening the proper doors could be called such. This was exactly what Sir Thomas and Edmund had been separately conniving at, as each proved to the other by the sympathetic alacrity with which they both advised Mrs. Norris's continuing where she was, instead of rushing out into the hall as soon as the noises of the arrival reached them.

  William and Fanny soon shewed themselves; and Sir Thomas had the pleasure of receiving, in his protege, certainly a very different person from the one he had equipped seven years ago, but a young man of an open, pleasant countenance, and frank, unstudied, but feeling and respectful manners, and such as confirmed him his friend.

  It was long before Fanny could recover from the agitating happiness of such an hour as was formed by the last thirty minutes of expectation, and the first of fruition; it was some time even before her happiness could be said to make her happy, before the disappointment inseparable from the alteration of person had vanished, and she could see in him the same William as before, and talk to him, as her heart had been yearning to do through many a past year. That time, however, did gradually come, forwarded by an affection on his side as warm as her own, and much less encumbered by refinement or self-distrust. She was the first object of his love, but it was a love which his stronger spirits, and bolder temper, made it as natural for him to express as to feel. On the morrow they were walking about together with true enjoyment, and every succeeding morrow renewed a _tete-a-tete_ which Sir Thomas could not but observe with complacency, even before Edmund had pointed it out to him.

  Excepting the moments of peculiar delight, which any marked or unlooked-for instance of Edmund's consideration of her in the last few months had excited, Fanny had never known so much felicity in her life, as in this unchecked, equal, fearless intercourse with the brother and friend who was opening all his heart to her, telling her all his hopes and fears, plans, and solicitudes respecting that long thought of, dearly earned, and justly valued blessing of promotion; who could give her direct and minute information of the father and mother, brothers and sisters, of whom she very seldom heard; who was interested in all the comforts and all the little hardships of her home at Mansfield; ready to think of every member of that home as she directed, or differing only by a less scrupulous opinion, and more noisy abuse of their aunt Norris, and with whom (perhaps the dearest indulgence of the whole) all the evil and good of their earliest years could be gone over again, and every former united pain and pleasure retraced with the fondest recollection. An advantage this, a strengthener of love, in which even the conjugal tie is beneath the fraternal. Children of the same family, the same blood, with the same first associations and habits, have some means of enjoyment in their power, which no subsequent connexions can supply; and it must be by a long and unnatural estrangement, by a divorce which no subsequent connexion 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.

  An affection so amiable was advancing each in the opinion of all who had hearts to value anything good. Henry Crawford was as much struck with it as any. He honoured the warm-hearted, blunt fondness of the young sailor, which led him to say, with his hands stretched towards Fanny's head, "Do you know, I begin to like that queer fashion already, though when I first heard of such things being done in England, I could not believe it; and when Mrs. Brown, and the other women at the Commissioner's at Gibraltar, appeared in the same trim, I thought they were mad; but Fanny can reconcile me to anything"; and saw, with lively admiration, the glow of Fanny's cheek, the brightness of her eye, the deep interest, the absorbed attention, while her brother was describing any of the imminent hazards, or terrific scenes, which such a period at sea must supply.

  It was a picture which Henry Crawford had moral taste enough to value. Fanny's attractions increased--increased twofold; for the sensibility which beautified her complexion and illumined her countenance was an attraction in itself. He was no longer in doubt of the capabilities of her heart. She had feeling, genuine feeling. It would be something to be loved by such a girl, to excite the first ardours of her young unsophisticated mind! She interested him more than he had foreseen. A fortnight was not enough. His stay became indefinite.

  William was often called on by his uncle to be the talker. His recitals were amusing in themselves to Sir Thomas, but the chief object in seeking them was to understand the reciter, to know the young man by his histories; and he listened to his clear, simple, spirited details with full satisfaction, seeing in them the proof of good principles, professional knowledge, energy, courage, and cheerfulness, everything that could deserve or promise well. Young as he was, William had already seen a great deal. He had been in the Mediterranean; in the West Indies; in the Mediterranean again; had been often taken on shore by the favour of his captain, and in the course of seven years had known every variety of danger which sea and war together could offer. With such means in his power he had a right to be listened to; and though Mrs. Norris could fidget about the room, and disturb everybody in quest of two needlefuls of thread or a second-hand shirt button, in the midst of her nephew's account of a shipwreck or an engagement, everybody else was attentive; 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."

  To Henry Crawford they gave a different feeling. He longed to have been at sea, and seen and done and suffered as much. His heart was warmed, his fancy fired, and he felt the highest respect for a lad who, before he was twenty, had gone through such bodily hardships and given such proofs of mind. The glory of heroism, of usefulness, of exertion, of endurance, made his own habits of selfish indulgence appear in shameful contrast; and he wished he had been a William Price, distinguishing himself and working his way to fortune and consequence with so much self-respect and happy ardour, instead of what he was!

  The wish was rather eager than lasting. He was roused from the reverie of retrospection and regret produced by it, by some inquiry from Edmund as to his plans for the next day's hunting; and he found it was as well to be a man of fortune at once with horses and grooms at his command. In one respect it was better, as it gave him the means of conferring a kindness where he wished to oblige. With spirits, courage, and curiosity up to anything, William expressed an inclination to hunt; and Crawford could mount him without the slightest inconvenience to himself, and with only some scruples to obviate in Sir Thomas, who knew better than his nephew the value of such a loan, and some alarms to reason away in Fanny. She feared for William; by no means convinced by all that he could relate of his own horsemanship in various countries, of the scrambling parties in which he had been engaged, the rough horses and mules he had ridden, or his many narrow escapes from dreadful falls, that he was at all equal to the management of a high-fed hunter in an English fox-chase; nor till he returned safe and well, without accident or discredit, could she be reconciled to the risk, or feel any of that obligation to Mr. Crawford for lending the horse which he had fully intended it should produce. When it was proved, however, to have done William no harm, she could allow it to be a kindness, and even reward the owner with a smile when the animal was one minute tendered to his use again; and the next, with the greatest cordiality, and in a manner not to be resisted, made over to his use entirely so long as he remained in Northamptonshire.

　　亨利·克劳福德第二天早晨打定了主意，要在曼斯菲尔德再住两个星期。他吩咐人把他的猎马送来，并给海军将军写了封短信做了一番解释。信封好交出去之后，他便同过头来看了看妹妹，见周围没人，便笑微微地说：“你知道我不打猎的时候准备怎么消遣吗，玛丽？我已经不那么年轻了，一星期最多只能打三次猎。不过，我对中间不打猎的日子有一个计划，你知道我准备怎么安排吗？”
　　“一定是和我一起散步，一起骑马啦。”
　　“不完全是，尽管我很乐意做这两件事。不过，那只是活动身体，我还要注意我的心灵呢。再说，那只不过是沉湎于娱乐消遣，没有一点需要苦苦开动脑筋的有益因素，我可不喜欢过这种无所事事的生活。不，我的计划是让范妮·普莱斯爱上我。”
　　“范妮·普莱斯！胡说！不行，不行。有她两位表姐你该满足了。”
　　“可是没有范妮·普莱斯，不给她心上戳个小洞，我是不会满足的。你似乎没有察觉她有多么可爱。昨天晚上我们谈论她的时候，你们好像谁也没有注意到，在过去六个星期里她的容貌发生了多么奇妙移的变化。你天天见她，因而也就注意不到她在变，不过我可以告诉你，她和秋天时相比真是判若两人。她那时只是一个文静腼腆、不算难看的姑娘，可现在却漂亮极了。我过去觉得她脸色不好看，表情又呆板。不过看看她那柔嫩的皮肤，就像昨天晚上那样，常常泛起一抹红晕，那可真是妩媚极了。再根据我对她的眼睛和嘴的观察，我想在她心有所动的时候，肯定很富于表情。还有——她的神态，她的举止，她的一切全都变了！从 10月以来，她至少长高了两英寸。”
　　“得了！得了！这只是因为没有高个子女人在场和她比，因为她换了件新衣服，你以前从没见她打扮得这么漂亮。你相信我好了，她跟lO月份一模一样。问题在于，当时你身边只有她一个姑娘可以关注，而你总需要有个人和你相好。我一向认为她漂亮——不是十分漂亮——而是人们所说的‘挺漂亮’，是逐渐出落成的一种美。她的眼珠还不够黑，但她笑起来很甜蜜。至于你说的奇妙变化，我想可以归结为衣着得体，你又没有别的人可看。因此，你要是真的想挑逗她，我可决不会相信你是因为她长得美，你只是出于无所事事，百无聊赖而已。”
　　做哥哥的听了这番批评，只是嫣然一笑。过了一会，他说：“我并不十分清楚范妮小姐是怎样一个人。我不了解她，昨天晚上我不知道她是什么意思。她是什么样的性格。她是不是总爱一本正经的？她是不是挺古怪的？她是不是有点假正经？她为什么要畏畏缩缩，板着脸看我？我简直都没法让她开口。我还从没和一个姑娘在一起待这么长时间——想讨她欢心——却碰了一鼻子灰！我从没遇到一个姑娘这样板着脸对待我！我一定要扭转这个局面。她的神情在说：‘我不喜欢你，我决不会喜欢你。’我要说：我非要让她喜欢不可。”
　　“傻瓜！原来这就是她的魅力所在呀！原来是这么回事——是因为她不喜欢你——你才觉得她皮肤柔嫩，觉得她个子大大长高了，那么妩媚，那么迷人！我真希望你不要给她带来不幸。燃起一点点爱情也许能给她带来生气，带来好处，但是我不允许你让她陷得太深。她可是个很好的小姑娘，感情很丰富。”
　　“只不过是两个星期，”亨利说， “如果两个星期能要她的命，那她也太弱不禁风了，即使不去招惹她，也是没救了。不，我是不会害她的，可爱的小精灵！我只是想让她亲切地看待我，对我既能脸红又能微笑，不论在什么地方，都在她身边给我留一把椅子，等我坐下来跟她说话的时候，她要兴致勃勃。她还要和我有同样的想法，对我的财产和娱乐饶有兴趣，尽量让我在曼斯菲尔德多住些日子，等我离开的时候，她会觉得自己永远不会再快活了。我的要求仅此而已。”
　　“要求是不高啊！”玛丽说。“我现在没有顾虑了。好了，你有的是机会讨她的欢心了，因为我们经常在一起。”
　　她没有进一步表示反对，便丢下范妮不管，任她去接受命运的考验——克劳福德小姐没有料到范妮心里早已有所戒备，不然的话，这命运真会让她招架不住。天下肯定有一些不可征服的十八岁姑娘（不然的话，人们从书里也读不到这样的人物），任凭你再怎么费尽心机，再怎么卖弄风采，再怎么献殷勤，再怎么甜言蜜语，都无法使她们违心地陷入情网，不过我并不认为范妮是这样的姑娘。我觉得她性情这么温柔，又这么富有情趣，要不是心里另有他人的话，遇到克劳福德这样的男人追求她，尽管先前对他的印象不好，尽管追求的时间只有两个星期，她恐怕很难芳心不乱。虽说对另一个人的爱和对他的轻蔑能确保她在受到追逐时仍然心境平静，但是经不住克劳福德持续不断地献殷勤——持续不断却又注意分寸，并且越来越投合她那文雅稳重的性情，要不了多久，她就不会像以前那样讨厌他了。她决没有忘记过去，还依然看不起他，但却感受到了他的魅力。他颇为有趣，言谈举止大有改进，变得客客气气，客气得规规矩矩，无可指摘，她对他也不能不以礼相待。
　　只消几天工夫便可达到这一步。这几天刚过，就发生了一件让范妮万分高兴的事，乐得她见谁都喜笑颜开，因此也就有利于克劳福德进一步讨她欢心。她的哥哥，她那个久在海外的亲爱的哥哥威廉，又回到了英国。她收到了他的一封信，那是他们的军舰驶入英吉利海峡时他匆匆写下的报喜的信，只有几行。“安特卫普”号军舰在斯皮特黑德抛锚后，他把信交给从舰上放下的第一艘小艇送到了朴次茅斯。克劳福德手拿着报纸走来，原指望给她带来这最新的消息，不想却看到她一边手拿着信高兴得发抖，一边又容光焕发地怀着感激之情，在听姨父泰然自若地口述回信，向威廉发出热情邀请。
　　克劳福德只是在前一天才了解了这件事的底细，知道她有这样一个哥哥，这个哥哥就在这样一艘军舰上。不过，他当时虽说很感兴趣，也只是适可而止，打算一回伦敦就打听“安特卫普”号可能什么时候从地中海回国。第二天早晨他查阅报纸上的舰艇消息时，恰巧看到了这条消息。真是上天不负有心人，他巧妙地想出了这样一个办法，既赢得了范妮的欢心，又表示了他对海军将军的关切，多年以来，他一直在订阅上边登有海军最新消息的这份报纸。然而，他来迟了。他原想由他来激起范妮那美妙的惊喜之情，不料这种心情早已激发起来了。不过，范妮对他的关心，对他的好意还是表示感激——热情地表示感激，因为她出于对威廉的深情厚爱，已经超脱了平常的羞怯心理。
　　亲爱的威廉很快就要来到他们中间了。毫无疑问他会马上请到假的，因为他还只是个海军候补少尉。父母就住在当地，肯定已经见到了他，也许天天能见到他。按理说，他一请好假就会立即来看妹妹和姨父。在七年的时间里，妹妹给他写的信最多，姨父也在尽最大努力帮助他，为他寻求晋升。因此，范妮给哥哥写的回信很快得到了回信，哥哥确定了日期，要尽快到这里来。从范妮第一次心情激动地在外边做客吃饭那天起，过了还不到十天，她就迎来了一个心情更加激动的时刻——在门厅里，在门廊下，在楼梯上，等候倾听哥哥马车到来的声响。
　　马车在她的企盼中欢快地来到了。既没有什么虚礼，也没有什么可怕的事来耽搁相见的时刻，威廉一走进屋来，范妮便扑到他身边。最初时刻那强烈的感情流露既没有人打断，也没有人看见，如果说有人的话，也只是那些小心翼翼就怕开错门的仆人。这种场面正是托马斯爵士和埃德蒙不谋而合安排好的，他们不约而同地欣然劝说诺里斯太太待在原地，不要一听到马车到达的声音，就往门厅里跑。
　　过了不久，威廉和范妮就来到了大家面前。托马斯爵士高兴地发现，他七年前给装备起来的这位被保护人现在完全变了样子，已经出挑成了一个开朗和悦、诚挚自然、情真意切、彬彬有礼的青年，使他越发认定可以做他的朋友了。
　　范妮在最后三十分钟的期待和最初三十分钟见面时的激动喜悦之情，过了很久才平静下来。甚至过了很久，她的这种喜悦之情才可以说使她真正感到欣喜，她那由于见到的已非原来的威廉而产生的失落感才逐渐消失，她才从他身上见到了原来的威廉，才能像她多年来所企盼的那样与他交谈。不过，由于威廉的感情和她的一样热烈，也由于他不那样讲究文雅和欢乏自信，这样的时刻还是渐渐来到了。她是威廉最爱的人，只不过他现在意气更高昂，性情更刚强，因而爱得坦然，表达得也很自然。第二天他们一起在外边散步的时候，才真正体会到重逢的喜悦，以后两人天天都在一起谈心。托马斯爵士没等埃德蒙告诉他就已看出来了，心里感到颇为得意。
　　除了在过去几个月中，埃德蒙对她的一些明显的、出乎意料的体贴给她带来的特大快乐外，范妮还从未领受过这次与哥哥加朋友的这种无拘无束、平等无忧的交往带来的莫大幸福。威廉向她敞开了心扉，对她讲述了他为那向往已久的提职，如何满怀希望，如何忧心忡忡，如何为之筹划，如何翘首以盼，喜事来之不易，理当倍加珍惜。他对她讲了他亲眼见到的爸爸、妈妈、弟弟、妹妹们的详细情况，而她过去很少听到他们的消息。威廉兴致勃勃地听妹妹讲她在曼斯菲尔德的情况，讲她在这里过的舒适生活，遇到的种种不愉快的小事——他赞成妹妹对这家人每个成员的看法，只是在谈到诺里斯姨妈时，他比妹妹更无所顾忌，责骂起来声色俱厉。两人一起回忆小时候表现得乖不乖（这也许是他们最喜欢谈论的话题），一起缅怀以往共同经历过的痛苦和欢乐。两人越谈越亲密，这种兄妹之情甚至胜过夫妻之爱。来自同一家庭，属于同一血缘，幼年时有着同样的经历、同样的习惯，致使兄弟姐妹在一起感到的那种快乐，在夫妻亲朋关系中很难感受到。只有出现了长期的、异乎寻常的疏远，关系破裂后又未能重修旧好，儿时留下的珍贵情谊才会被彻底忘却。唉，这种事情屡见不鲜呀！骨肉之情有时胜过一切，有时一文不值。但是，对威廉兄妹来说，这种感情依然又热烈又新鲜，没有受到利害冲突的损害，没有因为各有所恋而变得冷漠，长久的分离反而使这感情越来越深。
　　兄妹之间如此相亲相爱，使每一个珍惜美好事物的人都更加敬重他们。亨利·克劳福德也像其他人一样深受感动。他赞赏年轻水手对妹妹的一片深情和毫不掩饰的爱，于是便把手伸向范妮的头，一边说道：“你知道吧，我已经喜欢上了这种奇怪的发型，虽说我最初听说英国有人梳这样的发型时，我简直不敢相信。当布朗太太和别的女人都梳着这种发型来到驻直布罗陀长官家里的时候，我认为她们都疯了。不过，范妮能让我对什么都看得惯。”做哥哥的出海这么多年，自然遇到过不少突如其来的危险和蔚为壮观的景致，范妮一听他描述起这样的事情，就不由得容光焕发，两眼晶亮，兴致勃勃，精神贯注，克劳福德不禁异常羡慕。
　　这是亨利·克劳福德从道德的角度颇为珍惜的一幅情景。范妮的吸引力增加了——增加了两倍——因为多情本身就很富有魅力，使她气色俊秀，容颜焕发。他不再怀疑她会情意绵绵。她有感情，有纯真的感情。能得到这样一位姑娘的爱，能让她那年轻纯朴的心灵产生初恋的激情，这该是多么难能可贵的事情啊！他对她的兴趣超出了他的预想。两个星期还不够。他要不定期地住下去。
　　姨父常常要威廉给大家讲他的见闻。托马斯爵士觉得他讲的事情很有趣，不过他要他讲的主要目的是要了解他，是要通过听经历来了解这个年轻人。他听他简单明了、生气勃勃地叙述他的详细经历，感到十分满意——从这些经历中，可以看出他为人正派，熟谙业务，有活力，有勇气，性情开朗——这一切确保他应该受到重用，也能受到重用。威廉尽管年轻，却已经有了丰富的阅历。他到过地中海，到过西印度群岛，再回到地中海。舰长喜欢他，每到一地，常把他带上岸。七年当中，他经历了大海和战争给他带来的种种危险。他有这么多不平凡的经历，讲起来自然值得一听。就在他叙述海难或海战的时候，尽管诺里斯太太走来走去，一个劲儿地打扰别人，时而向这个要两根线，时而向那个要一粒衬衫扣子，但其他人都在聚精会神地听。连伯特伧夫人听到这些可怕的事也为之震惊，有时停下手里的活计抬眼说道：“天哪！多可怕呀。我不明白怎么会有人去当水手。”
　　亨利·克劳福德听后却不这样想。他巴不得自己也当过水手，有过这么多见识，做过这么多事情，受过这么多苦难。他心潮澎湃，浮想联翩，对这个还不到二十岁就饱尝艰难困苦、充分显示出聪明才智的小伙子感到无比敬佩。在他的英勇无畏、为国效劳、艰苦奋斗、吃苦耐劳光辉精神的比照下，他只顾自己吃喝玩乐简直是卑鄙无耻。他真想做威廉·普莱斯这样一个人，满怀自尊和欢快的热忱，靠自己奋斗来建功立业，而不是现在这样！
　　这种愿望来得迫切，去得也快。埃德蒙问他第二天的打猎怎样安排，把他从回顾往事的梦幻和由此而来的悔恨中惊醒。他觉得做一个有马车马夫的有钱人同样不错。在某种意义上，这还要更好，因为你想施惠于人的时候，倒有条件这样做。威廉对什么事都兴致勃勃，无所畏惧，欲求一试，因此表示也想去打猎。对克劳福德来说，给威廉准备一匹打猎的坐骑可以说是不费吹灰之力，他只需要打消托马斯爵士的顾虑——他比外甥更了解欠别人人情的代价，还需要说服范妮不必担心。范妮对威廉不放心。威廉对她讲了他在多少国家骑过马，参加过哪些爬山活动，骑过多少脾气暴烈的骡子和马，摔过多少次都没摔死，但她依然不相信他能驾驭一匹膘肥体壮的猎马在英国猎狐。而且，不等哥哥平安无事地打猎回来，她会一直认为不该冒这样的险，也不会感激克劳福德借马给哥哥，尽管克劳福德原本就想求得她的感激。不过，事实证明威廉没有出事，她这才感到这是一番好意。马的主人提出让威廉下次再骑，接着又极其热情、不容推辞地把马完全交给了威廉，叫他在北安普敦郡做客期间尽管骑用。这时，范妮甚至向克劳福德报以微笑。

End of Volume One

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一二三四五六七~~~

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Chapter Twenty-five

  The intercourse of the two families was at this period more nearly restored to what it had been in the autumn, than any member of the old intimacy had thought ever likely to be again. The return of Henry Crawford, and the arrival of William Price, had much to do with it, but much was still owing to Sir Thomas's more than toleration of the neighbourly attempts at the Parsonage. His mind, now disengaged from the cares which had pressed on him at first, was at leisure to find the Grants and their young inmates really worth visiting; and though infinitely above scheming or contriving for any the most advantageous matrimonial establishment that could be among the apparent possibilities of any one most dear to him, and disdaining even as a littleness the being quick-sighted on such points, he could not avoid perceiving, in a grand and careless way, that Mr. Crawford was somewhat distinguishing his niece-- nor perhaps refrain (though unconsciously) from giving a more willing assent to invitations on that account.

  His readiness, however, in agreeing to dine at the Parsonage, when the general invitation was at last hazarded, after many debates and many doubts as to whether it were worth while, "because Sir Thomas seemed so ill inclined, and Lady Bertram was so indolent!" proceeded from good-breeding and goodwill alone, and had nothing to do with Mr. Crawford, but as being one in an agreeable group: for it was in the course of that very visit that he first began to think that any one in the habit of such idle observations _would_ _have_ _thought_ that Mr. Crawford was the admirer of Fanny Price.

  The meeting was generally felt to be a pleasant one, being composed in a good proportion of those who would talk and those who would listen; and the dinner itself was elegant and plentiful, according to the usual style of the Grants, and too much according to the usual habits of all to raise any emotion except in Mrs. Norris, who could never behold either the wide table or the number of dishes on it with patience, and who did always contrive to experience some evil from the passing of the servants behind her chair, and to bring away some fresh conviction of its being impossible among so many dishes but that some must be cold.

  In the evening it was found, according to the predetermination of Mrs. Grant and her sister, that after making up the whist-table there would remain sufficient for a round game, and everybody being as perfectly complying and without a choice as on such occasions they always are, speculation was decided on almost as soon as whist; and Lady Bertram soon found herself in the critical situation of being applied to for her own choice between the games, and being required either to draw a card for whist or not. She hesitated. Luckily Sir Thomas was at hand.

  "What shall I do, Sir Thomas? Whist and speculation; which will amuse me most?"

  Sir Thomas, after a moment's thought, recommended speculation. He was a whist player himself, and perhaps might feel that it would not much amuse him to have her for a partner.

  "Very well," was her ladyship's contented answer; "then speculation, if you please, Mrs. Grant. I know nothing about it, but Fanny must teach me."

  Here Fanny interposed, however, with anxious protestations of her own equal ignorance; she had never played the game nor seen it played in her life; and Lady Bertram felt a moment's indecision again; but upon everybody's assuring her that nothing could be so easy, that it was the easiest game on the cards, and Henry Crawford's stepping forward with a most earnest request to be allowed to sit between her ladyship and Miss Price, and teach them both, it was so settled; and Sir Thomas, Mrs. Norris, and Dr. and Mrs. Grant being seated at the table of prime intellectual state and dignity, the remaining six, under Miss Crawford's direction, were arranged round the other. It was a fine arrangement for Henry Crawford, who was close to Fanny, and with his hands full of business, having two persons' cards to manage as well as his own; for though it was impossible for Fanny not to feel herself mistress of the rules of the game in three minutes, he had yet to inspirit her play, sharpen her avarice, and harden her heart, which, especially in any competition with William, was a work of some difficulty; and as for Lady Bertram, he must continue in charge of all her fame and fortune through the whole evening; and if quick enough to keep her from looking at her cards when the deal began, must direct her in whatever was to be done with them to the end of it.

  He was in high spirits, doing everything with happy ease, and preeminent in all the lively turns, quick resources, and playful impudence that could do honour to the game; and the round table was altogether a very comfortable contrast to the steady sobriety and orderly silence of the other.

  Twice had Sir Thomas inquired into the enjoyment and success of his lady, but in vain; no pause was long enough for the time his measured manner needed; and very little of her state could be known till Mrs. Grant was able, at the end of the first rubber, to go to her and pay her compliments.

  "I hope your ladyship is pleased with the game."

  "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."

  "Bertram," said Crawford, some time afterwards, taking the opportunity of a little languor in the game, "I have never told you what happened to me yesterday in my ride home." They had been hunting together, and were in the midst of a good run, and at some distance from Mansfield, when his horse being found to have flung a shoe, Henry Crawford had been obliged to give up, and make the best of his way back. "I told you I lost my way after passing that old farmhouse with the yew-trees, because I can never bear to ask; but I have not told you that, with my usual luck--for I never do wrong without gaining by it--I found myself in due time in the very place which I had a curiosity to see. I was suddenly, upon turning the corner of a steepish downy field, in the midst of a retired little village between gently rising hills; a small stream before me to be forded, a church standing on a sort of knoll to my right-- which church was strikingly large and handsome for the place, and not a gentleman or half a gentleman's house to be seen excepting one--to be presumed the Parsonage-- within a stone's throw of the said knoll and church. I found myself, in short, in Thornton Lacey."

  "It sounds like it," said Edmund; "but which way did you turn after passing Sewell's farm?"

  "I answer no such irrelevant and insidious questions; though were I to answer all that you could put in the course of an hour, you would never be able to prove that it was _not_ Thornton Lacey--for such it certainly was."

  "You inquired, then?"

  "No, I never inquire. But I _told_ a man mending a hedge that it was Thornton Lacey, and he agreed to it."

  "You have a good memory. I had forgotten having ever told you half so much of the place."

  Thornton Lacey was the name of his impending living, as Miss Crawford well knew; and her interest in a negotiation for William Price's knave increased.

  "Well," continued Edmund, "and how did you like what you saw?"

  "Very much indeed. You are a lucky fellow. There will be work for five summers at least before the place is liveable."

  "No, no, not so bad as that. The farmyard must be moved, I grant you; but I am not aware of anything else. The house is by no means bad, and when the yard is removed, there may be a very tolerable approach to it."

  "The farmyard must be cleared away entirely, and planted up to shut out the blacksmith's shop. The house must be turned to front the east instead of the north-- the entrance and principal rooms, I mean, must be on that side, where the view is really very pretty; I am sure it may be done. And _there_ must be your approach, through what is at present the garden. You must make a new garden at what is now the back of the house; which will be giving it the best aspect in the world, sloping to the south-east. The ground seems precisely formed for it. I rode fifty yards up the lane, between the church and the house, in order to look about me; and saw how it might all be. Nothing can be easier. The meadows beyond what _will_ _be_ the garden, as well as what now _is_, sweeping round from the lane I stood in to the north-east, that is, to the principal road through the village, must be all laid together, of course; very pretty meadows they are, finely sprinkled with timber. They belong to the living, I suppose; if not, you must purchase them. Then the stream--something must be done with the stream; but I could not quite determine what. I had two or three ideas."

  "And I have two or three ideas also," said Edmund, "and one of them is, that very little of your plan for Thornton Lacey will ever be put in practice. I must be satisfied with rather less ornament and beauty. I think the house and premises may be made comfortable, and given the air of a gentleman's residence, without any very heavy expense, and that must suffice me; and, I hope, may suffice all who care about me."

  Miss Crawford, a little suspicious and resentful of a certain tone of voice, and a certain half-look attending the last expression of his hope, made a hasty finish of her dealings with William Price; and securing his knave at an exorbitant rate, exclaimed, "There, I will stake my last like a woman of spirit. No cold prudence for me. I am not born to sit still and do nothing. If I lose the game, it shall not be from not striving for it."

  The game was hers, and only did not pay her for what she had given to secure it. Another deal proceeded, and Crawford began again about Thornton Lacey.

  "My plan may not be the best possible: I had not many minutes to form it in; but you must do a good deal. The place deserves it, and you will find yourself not satisfied with much less than it is capable of. (Excuse me, your ladyship must not see your cards. There, let them lie just before you.) The place deserves it, Bertram. You talk of giving it the air of a gentleman's residence. _That_ will be done by the removal of the farmyard; for, independent of that terrible nuisance, I never saw a house of the kind which had in itself so much the air of a gentleman's residence, so much the look of a something above a mere parsonage-house--above the expenditure of a few hundreds a year. It is not a scrambling collection of low single rooms, with as many roofs as windows; it is not cramped into the vulgar compactness of a square farmhouse: it is a solid, roomy, mansion-like looking house, such as one might suppose a respectable old country family had lived in from generation to generation, through two centuries at least, and were now spending from two to three thousand a year in." Miss Crawford listened, and Edmund agreed to this. "The air of a gentleman's residence, therefore, you cannot but give it, if you do anything. But it is capable of much more. (Let me see, Mary; Lady Bertram bids a dozen for that queen; no, no, a dozen is more than it is worth. Lady Bertram does not bid a dozen. She will have nothing to say to it. Go on, go on.) By some such improvements as I have suggested (I do not really require you to proceed upon my plan, though, by the bye, I doubt anybody's striking out a better) you may give it a higher character. You may raise it into a _place_. From being the mere gentleman's residence, it becomes, by judicious improvement, the residence of a man of education, taste, modern manners, good connexions. All this may be stamped on it; and that house receive such an air as to make its owner be set down as the great landholder of the parish by every creature travelling the road; especially as there is no real squire's house to dispute the point--a circumstance, between ourselves, to enhance the value of such a situation in point of privilege and independence beyond all calculation. _You_ think with me, I hope" (turning with a softened voice to Fanny). "Have you ever seen the place?"

  Fanny gave a quick negative, and tried to hide her interest in the subject by an eager attention to her brother, who was driving as hard a bargain, and imposing on her as much as he could; but Crawford pursued with "No, no, you must not part with the queen. You have bought her too dearly, and your brother does not offer half her value. No, no, sir, hands off, hands off. Your sister does not part with the queen. She is quite determined. The game will be yours," turning to her again; "it will certainly be yours."

  "And Fanny had much rather it were William's," said Edmund, smiling at her. "Poor Fanny! not allowed to cheat herself as she wishes!"

  "Mr. Bertram," said Miss Crawford, a few minutes afterwards, "you know Henry to be such a capital improver, that you cannot possibly engage in anything of the sort at Thornton Lacey without accepting his help. Only think how useful he was at Sotherton! Only think what grand things were produced there by our all going with him one hot day in August to drive about the grounds, and see his genius take fire. There we went, and there we came home again; and what was done there is not to be told!"

  Fanny's eyes were turned on Crawford for a moment with an expression more than grave--even reproachful; but on catching his, were instantly withdrawn. With something of consciousness he shook his head at his sister, and laughingly replied, "I cannot say there was much done at Sotherton; but it was a hot day, and we were all walking after each other, and bewildered." As soon as a general buzz gave him shelter, he added, in a low voice, directed solely at Fanny, "I should be sorry to have my powers of _planning_ judged of by the day at Sotherton. I see things very differently now. Do not think of me as I appeared then."

  Sotherton was a word to catch Mrs. Norris, and being just then in the happy leisure which followed securing the odd trick by Sir Thomas's capital play and her own against Dr. and Mrs. Grant's great hands, she called out, in high good-humour, "Sotherton! Yes, that is a place, indeed, and we had a charming day there. William, you are quite out of luck; but the next time you come, I hope dear Mr. and Mrs. Rushworth will be at home, and I am sure I can answer for your being kindly received by both. Your cousins are not of a sort to forget their relations, and Mr. Rushworth is a most amiable man. They are at Brighton now, you know; in one of the best houses there, as Mr. Rushworth's fine fortune gives them a right to be. I do not exactly know the distance, but when you get back to Portsmouth, if it is not very far off, you ought to go over and pay your respects to them; and I could send a little parcel by you that I want to get conveyed to your cousins."

  "I should be very happy, aunt; but Brighton is almost by Beachey Head; and if I could get so far, I could not expect to be welcome in such a smart place as that-- poor scrubby midshipman as I am."

  Mrs. Norris was beginning an eager assurance of the affability he might depend on, when she was stopped by Sir Thomas's saying with authority, "I do not advise your going to Brighton, William, as I trust you may soon have more convenient opportunities of meeting; but my daughters would be happy to see their cousins anywhere; and you will find Mr. Rushworth most sincerely disposed to regard all the connexions of our family as his own."

  "I would rather find him private secretary to the First Lord than anything else," was William's only answer, in an undervoice, not meant to reach far, and the subject dropped.

  As yet Sir Thomas had seen nothing to remark in Mr. Crawford's behaviour; but when the whist-table broke up at the end of the second rubber, and leaving Dr. Grant and Mrs. Norris to dispute over their last play, he became a looker-on at the other, he found his niece the object of attentions, or rather of professions, of a somewhat pointed character.

  Henry Crawford was in the first glow of another scheme about Thornton Lacey; and not being able to catch Edmund's ear, was detailing it to his fair neighbour with a look of considerable earnestness. His scheme was to rent the house himself the following winter, that he might have a home of his own in that neighbourhood; and it was not merely for the use of it in the hunting-season (as he was then telling her), though _that_ consideration had certainly some weight, feeling as he did that, in spite of all Dr. Grant's very great kindness, it was impossible for him and his horses to be accommodated where they now were without material inconvenience; but his attachment to that neighbourhood did not depend upon one amusement or one season of the year: he had set his heart upon having a something there that he could come to at any time, a little homestall at his command, where all the holidays of his year might be spent, and he might find himself continuing, improving, and _perfecting_ that friendship and intimacy with the Mansfield Park family which was increasing in value to him every day. Sir Thomas heard and was not offended. There was no want of respect in the young man's address; and Fanny's reception of it was so proper and modest, so calm and uninviting, that he had nothing to censure in her. She said little, assented only here and there, and betrayed no inclination either of appropriating any part of the compliment to herself, or of strengthening his views in favour of Northamptonshire. Finding by whom he was observed, Henry Crawford addressed himself on the same subject to Sir Thomas, in a more everyday tone, but still with feeling.

  "I want to be your neighbour, Sir Thomas, as you have, perhaps, heard me telling Miss Price. May I hope for your acquiescence, and for your not influencing your son against such a tenant?"

  Sir Thomas, politely bowing, replied, "It is the only way, sir, in which I could _not_ wish you established as a permanent neighbour; but I hope, and believe, that Edmund will occupy his own house at Thornton Lacey. Edmund, am I saying too much?"

  Edmund, on this appeal, had first to hear what was going on; but, on understanding the question, was at no loss for an answer.

  "Certainly, sir, I have no idea but of residence. But, Crawford, though I refuse you as a tenant, come to me as a friend. Consider the house as half your own every winter, and we will add to the stables on your own improved plan, and with all the improvements of your improved plan that may occur to you this spring."

  "We shall be the losers," continued Sir Thomas. "His going, though only eight miles, will be an unwelcome contraction of our family circle; but I should have been deeply mortified if any son of mine could reconcile himself to doing less. It is perfectly natural that you should not have thought much on the subject, Mr. Crawford. But a parish has wants and claims which can be known only by a clergyman constantly resident, and which no proxy can be capable of satisfying to the same extent. Edmund might, in the common phrase, do the duty of Thornton, that is, he might read prayers and preach, without giving up Mansfield Park: he might ride over every Sunday, to a house nominally inhabited, and go through divine service; he might be the clergyman of Thornton Lacey every seventh day, for three or four hours, if that would content him. But it will not. He knows that human nature needs more lessons than a weekly sermon can convey; and that if he does not live among his parishioners, and prove himself, by constant attention, their well-wisher and friend, he does very little either for their good or his own."

  Mr. Crawford bowed his acquiescence.

  "I repeat again," added Sir Thomas, "that Thornton Lacey is the only house in the neighbourhood in which I should _not_ be happy to wait on Mr. Crawford as occupier."

  Mr. Crawford bowed his thanks.

  "Sir Thomas," said Edmund, "undoubtedly understands the duty of a parish priest. We must hope his son may prove that _he_ knows it too."

  Whatever effect Sir Thomas's little harangue might really produce on Mr. Crawford, it raised some awkward sensations in two of the others, two of his most attentive listeners-- Miss Crawford and Fanny. One of whom, having never before understood that Thornton was so soon and so completely to be his home, was pondering with downcast eyes on what it would be _not_ to see Edmund every day; and the other, startled from the agreeable fancies she had been previously indulging on the strength of her brother's description, no longer able, in the picture she had been forming of a future Thornton, to shut out the church, sink the clergyman, and see only the respectable, elegant, modernised, and occasional residence of a man of independent fortune, was considering Sir Thomas, with decided ill-will, as the destroyer of all this, and suffering the more from that involuntary forbearance which his character and manner commanded, and from not daring to relieve herself by a single attempt at throwing ridicule on his cause.

  All the agreeable of _her_ speculation was over for that hour. It was time to have done with cards, if sermons prevailed; and she was glad to find it necessary to come to a conclusion, and be able to refresh her spirits by a change of place and neighbour.

  The chief of the party were now collected irregularly round the fire, and waiting the final break-up. William and Fanny were the most detached. They remained together at the otherwise deserted card-table, talking very comfortably, and not thinking of the rest, till some of the rest began to think of them. Henry Crawford's chair was the first to be given a direction towards them, and he sat silently observing them for a few minutes; himself, in the meanwhile, observed by Sir Thomas, who was standing in chat with Dr. Grant.

  "This is the assembly night," said William. "If I were at Portsmouth I should be at it, perhaps."

  "But you do not wish yourself at Portsmouth, William?"

  "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."

  "Oh! shame, shame! But never mind it, William" (her own cheeks in a glow of indignation as she spoke). "It is not worth minding. It is no reflection on _you_; it is no more than what the greatest admirals have all experienced, more or less, in their time. You must think of that, you must try to make up your mind to it as one of the hardships which fall to every sailor's share, like bad weather and hard living, only with this advantage, that there will be an end to it, that there will come a time when you will have nothing of that sort to endure. When you are a lieutenant! only think, William, when you are a lieutenant, how little you will care for any nonsense of this kind."

  "I begin to think I shall never be a lieutenant, Fanny. Everybody gets made but me."

  "Oh! my dear William, do not talk so; do not be so desponding. My uncle says nothing, but I am sure he will do everything in his power to get you made. He knows, as well as you do, of what consequence it is."

  She was checked by the sight of her uncle much nearer to them than she had any suspicion of, and each found it necessary to talk of something else.

  "Are you fond of dancing, Fanny?"

  "Yes, very; only I am soon tired."

  "I should like to go to a ball with you and see you dance. Have you never any balls at Northampton? I should like to see you dance, and I'd dance with you if you _would_, for nobody would know who I was here, and I should like to be your partner once more. We used to jump about together many a time, did not we? when the hand-organ was in the street? I am a pretty good dancer in my way, but I dare say you are a better." And turning to his uncle, who was now close to them, "Is not Fanny a very good dancer, sir?"

  Fanny, in dismay at such an unprecedented question, did not know which way to look, or how to be prepared for the answer. Some very grave reproof, or at least the coldest expression of indifference, must be coming to distress her brother, and sink her to the ground. But, on the contrary, it was no worse than, "I am sorry to say that I am unable to answer your question. I have never seen Fanny dance since she was a little girl; but I trust we shall both think she acquits herself like a gentlewoman when we do see her, which, perhaps, we may have an opportunity of doing ere long."

  "I have had the pleasure of seeing your sister dance, Mr. Price," said Henry Crawford, leaning forward, "and will engage to answer every inquiry which you can make on the subject, to your entire satisfaction. But I believe" (seeing Fanny looked distressed) "it must be at some other time. There is _one_ person in company who does not like to have Miss Price spoken of."

  True enough, he had once seen Fanny dance; and it was equally true that he would now have answered for her gliding about with quiet, light elegance, and in admirable time; but, in fact, he could not for the life of him recall what her dancing had been, and rather took it for granted that she had been present than remembered anything about her.

  He passed, however, for an admirer of her dancing; and Sir Thomas, by no means displeased, prolonged the conversation on dancing in general, and was so well engaged in describing the balls of Antigua, and listening to what his nephew could relate of the different modes of dancing which had fallen within his observation, that he had not heard his carriage announced, and was first called to the knowledge of it by the bustle of Mrs. Norris.

  "Come, Fanny, Fanny, what are you about? We are going. Do not you see your aunt is going? Quick, quick! I cannot bear to keep good old Wilcox waiting. You should always remember the coachman and horses. My dear Sir Thomas, we have settled it that the carriage should come back for you, and Edmund and William."

  Sir Thomas could not dissent, as it had been his own arrangement, previously communicated to his wife and sister; but _that_ seemed forgotten by Mrs. Norris, who must fancy that she settled it all herself.

  Fanny's last feeling in the visit was disappointment: for the shawl which Edmund was quietly taking from the servant to bring and put round her shoulders was seized by Mr. Crawford's quicker hand, and she was obliged to be indebted to his more prominent attention.

　　这阵子，两家人的交往差不多又像秋季那样频繁，这是这些老相识中谁也不曾料到的事情。亨利·克劳福德的返回和威廉·普莱斯的到来对此起了很大的作用，不过，这跟托马斯爵士对于与牧师府的友好交往采取了宽容有加的态度，也有很大关系。他现在已经解脱了当初的烦恼，心里有了闲情逸致，发现格兰特夫妇和那两个年轻伙伴的确值得交往。他虽说全然没有考虑自己的儿女与这家的少爷小姐结亲，尽管这对他们家极为有利，而且明显地存在这种可能，但谁要是在这件事上过于敏感，他都不以为然。不过，他不用留意就能看出克劳福德先生对他外甥女的态度有些与众不同——也许就是由于这个原因，每逢那边邀请，他无意之中更会欣然同意。
　　牧师府上经过反复讨论，终于决定把这家人都请去吃饭。他们起初犹豫来犹豫去，拿不准这样做好不好，“因为托马斯爵士好像不怎么愿意！伯特伦夫人又懒得出门！”不过托马斯爵士欣然接受了邀请，他这样做完全是出于礼貌和友好，想和大家一起快活快活，而与克劳福德先生毫无关系。正是在这次做客中，他才第一次意识到：任何人只要随意观察，都会认为克劳福德先生看上了范妮·普莱斯。
　　大家聚在一起，爱讲话的人和爱听讲的人比例适中，因而个个都感到挺快活。按照格兰特家平时的待客之道，饭菜既讲究又丰盛，大家都觉得实在太多，无暇他顾，只有诺里斯太太例外。她时而嫌饭桌太宽，时而怨菜做得太多，每逢仆人从她椅子后面经过，她总要挑一点毛病，离席后越发觉得，上了这么多菜，有一些必然是凉的。
　　到了晚上，大家发现，根据格兰特太太和她妹妹的预先安排，组成玩惠斯特的一桌人之后，剩下的人可以玩一种轮回牌戏①（译注：①指由四人或四人以上参加，但互不结为同伴的牌戏。）。在这种情况下，自然是人人都愿意参加，没有选择的余地。于是，几乎是一定下打惠斯特，就决定再摆一桌玩投机②（译注：②一种轮回牌戏，参加者各打各的，相互买牌卖牌，最后拥有点数最多者胜。）。过了不久，伯特伦夫人觉得自己很为难，大家让她来选择，是打惠斯特，还是玩投机。她犹豫不决。幸好托马斯爵士就在身旁。
　　“我玩什么呢，托马斯爵士？惠斯特和投机，哪一种更好玩？”
　　托马斯爵士想了想，建议她玩投机。他自己爱打惠斯特，也许怕跟她做搭档没意思。
　　“好吧，”夫人满意地答道。“那我就玩投机吧，格兰特太太。我一点也不会打，范妮得教我。”
　　范妮一听也急忙说她也丝毫不懂，她长这么大还从没玩过这种牌戏，也从没见别人玩过。伯特伦夫人又犹豫了一番——但人人都跟她说这比什么都容易，是牌戏中最容易打的一种。恰在这时，亨利·克劳福德走上前来，极其恳切地要求坐在夫人和普莱斯小姐中间，同时教她们两人，于是问题解决了。托马斯爵士、诺里斯太太和格兰特博士夫妇几位既老练又尊贵的人围成一桌，余下的六人听从克劳福德小姐的安排，围着另一张桌子坐下。这种安排正合亨利·克劳福德的心意，他挨着范妮，忙得不可开交，既要照看自己的牌，又要关注另两个人的牌——尽管范妮不到三分钟就掌握了牌的打法，但他还得鼓励她要有勇气，要贪得无厌，要心狠手辣，不过这还有一定的难度，特别是与威廉竞争时尤其如此。至于伯特伦夫人，整个晚上他都得对她的胜负输赢负责。从发牌开始，不等她看就替她起到手上，然后从头到尾指导她出每一张牌。
　　他兴致勃勃，如鱼得水，牌翻得潇洒，出得敏捷，风趣赖皮，真是样样出色，给整个牌戏增添不少光彩。这张牌桌又轻松又活跃，与另一张牌桌的秩序井然、沉闷不语形成了鲜明的对照。
　　托马斯爵士两次询问夫人玩得是否开心，输赢如何，但却没有问出个结果。牌隙间的停顿都太短，容不得他从容不迫地打听。直至打完了第一局，格兰特太太跑到夫人跟前恭维她时，大家才知道她的情况。
　　“我想夫人您很喜欢这种牌戏吧。”
　　“噢！是的。确实很有意思。一种很奇怪的玩法。我不懂到底是怎么打的。我根本就看不到我的牌，全是克劳福德先生替我打的。”
　　“伯特伦，”过了一阵，克劳福德趁打牌打得有些倦怠的时候说，“我还没告诉你昨天我骑马回来的路上出了什么事。”原来他们在一起打猎，正在纵马驰骋，到了离曼斯菲尔德很远的一个地方时，发现亨利·克劳福德的马掉了一个马掌，他只得半途而废，抄近路回家。“我对你说过，由于我不爱问路，过了周围种着紫杉树的那座旧农舍就迷了路。可是我没有告诉你，我一向运气不错——出了差错总会有所补偿——我正好走到了原先很想游览的一个地方。我转过一块陡坡地，一下子来到了坐落在平缓山坡上的一个幽静的小村庄，前面是一条必须涉水而过的小溪，右边的山岗上有一座教堂，这座教堂在那里显得又大又漂亮，非常醒目。除了离山岗和教堂一箭之地有一幢上等人家的房子外，周围再也看不到一处甚至半处上等人家的房子，而那座房子想必是牧师住宅。总之一句话，我发现自己来到了桑顿莱西。”
　　“听起来像是那地方，”埃德蒙说。“不过，你过了休厄尔农场之后是往哪条路上拐的？”
　　“我不回答这种毫不相干、耍小心眼的问题。即使你问我一个钟头，我把你的问题都回答完，你也无法证明那不是桑顿莱西——因为那地方肯定是桑顿莱西。”
　　“那你向人打听过了？”
　　“没有，我从不向人打听。不过，我对一个正在修篱笆的人说那是桑顿莱西，他表示同意。”
　　“你的记性真好。我都不记得给你说过这个地方。”
　　桑顿莱西是埃德蒙即将就任的教区，克劳福德小姐对此十分清楚。这时，她对争夺威廉·普莱斯手里的J来了兴趣。
　　“那么，”埃德蒙接着说，“你喜欢那个地方吗？”
　　“的确很喜欢。你这家伙很走运。至少要干五个夏天，那地方才能住人。”
　　“不，不，没有那么糟。跟你说吧，那个农家院肯定要迁移，别的我都不在意。那座房子决不算糟，等把农家院迁走以后，就会修一条像样的路。”
　　“场院必须彻底迁走，还要多种些树把铁匠铺子遮开。房子要由向北改为向东——我的意思是说，房子的正门和主要房间必须处在风景优美的一面，我想这是可以做得到的。你那条路应该修在那里——让它穿过花园现在坐落的地方。在现在的房子背后修一个新花园，向东南方向倾斜——这就构成了世界上最美妙的景观。那地形似乎十分适宜这样安排。我骑马顺着教堂和农舍间的那条小路走了五十码，向四下嘹望一番，看出了怎么改造为好。事情容易极了。现在这座花园以及将来新修花园外边的那些草地，从我站的地方向东北面延伸，也就是通向穿村而过的那条主要道路，当然要统统连成一片。这些草地在树木的点缀下，显得十分漂亮。我想，这些草地属于牧师的产业，不然的话，你应该把它们买下来。还有那条小溪——也要采取点措施，不过我还拿不准怎么办。我有两三个想法。”
　　“我也有两三个想法，”埃德蒙说，“一个想法是，你关于桑顿莱西的计划是不会付诸实施的。我喜欢朴实无华。我想不要花很多的钱，就能把房子庭园搞得舒舒适适的，一看就知道是个上等人住的地方，我觉得这就足够了。我希望所有关心我的人也会感到满足。”
　　埃德蒙最后说到他的希望的时候，他的口气，有意无意的目光，引起了克劳福德小姐的猜疑和气恼，她匆匆结束了和威廉·普莱斯的斗牌，一把抓过他的J，叫道： “瞧吧，我要做个有勇气的人，把最后的老本都拼上。我不会谨小慎微的。我天生就不会坐在那里无所作为。即使输了，也不是因为没有为之一拼。”
　　这一局她赢了，只不过赢来的还抵不上她付出的老本。又打起了另一局，克劳福德又谈起了桑顿菜西。
　　“我的计划也许不是最好的，当时我也没有多少时间去考虑。不过，你还得多下工夫。那地方值得多下工夫，要是不下足工夫，你自己也不会满意的。（对不起，夫人，您不要看您的牌。对，就让它们在您面前扣着。）那地方值得下工夫，伯特伦。你谈到要让它像个上等人家的住宅。要做到这一点，就得去掉那个农家院。抛开那个糟糕透顶的农家院，我还从没见到有哪座房子比它更像一幢上等人家的住宅，不像是一幢不起眼的牧师住宅，家里一年只有几百英镑的收入。这房子不是把一些矮小的单间屋子拼凑在一起，弄得屋顶和窗子一样多——也不是搞得局局促促、土里土气，像座四四方方的农舍——而是一座墙壁坚固、居室宽敞的房子，看上去像座大宅，让人觉得里面住着一户德高望重的古老世家，代代相传，至少有二百年的历史，现在每年的开支有两三千英镑。”对于这番话，克劳福德小姐仔细听着，埃德蒙表示赞同。“因此，你只要下点工夫，就能使它看起来像是上等人的宅第。不过，你还能改造得比上等人的住宅好得多。（让我想一想，玛丽。伯特伦夫人出一打要这张Q。不行，不行，这张Q值不了一打。伯特伦夫人不出一打。她不会出的。过，过。）如果按照我的建议加以改造（我并非真的要求你按照我的计划去做，不过我想未必有人能想出更好的计划），那就会提高这幢房子的档次。你可以把它改造成一幢宅第。如果改造得好，那就不仅仅是一座上等人的住宅，而且是一座有学识、有情趣、举止高雅、结交不凡的人家的住宅。这一切都要在宅第上展示出来。这座房子就是要有这样的气派，每一个路过的人都会认为房主人是本教区的大地主，特别要看到，附近没有真正的地主宅第与它相比，也就不会引起疑义。我跟你私下说一句，这个情况对于保持特权和独立自主大有好处。我希望你同意我的想法——（以柔和的声音转向范妮）——你去过那地方吗？”
　　范妮连忙给了个否定的回答，极力想掩饰她对这个话题的兴趣，急忙把注意力转向她哥哥。她哥哥正在讨价还价，一个劲地劝她达成交易，可克劳福德却紧跟着说：“不行，不行，你不能出Q。你得来的代价太高，你哥哥的出价还不到它价值的一半。不行，不行，先生，不许动——不许动。你妹妹不出Q。她决不会出。这一盘是你的。”说着又转向范妮：“肯定是你赢。”
　　“范妮情愿让威廉赢，”埃德蒙笑着对范妮说。“可怜的范妮！想故意打输都不成啊！”
　　“伯特伦先生，”过了一会，克劳福德小姐说，“你知道，亨利是个了不起的环境改造专家，你要在桑顿莱西进行这样的改造，不请他帮忙是不行的。你只要想一想：他在索瑟顿起了多大的作用啊！只要想一想：我们在8月的一个大热天一起坐车在庭园里转悠，看着他施展才能，在那里取得了多么了不起的成绩。我们跑到那里，又从那里回来，到底干了些什么，简直没法说呀！”
　　范妮瞅了瞅克劳福德，神情比较严厉，甚至有点责怪的意味。但是一触到他的目光，两眼马上就退缩了。克劳福德似乎意识到妹妹话中的意思，便向她摇了摇头，笑呵呵地答道：“我不敢说我在索瑟顿干了多少事情。不过，那天天气太热，我们都是步行着你找我我找你，弄得晕头转向的。”这时，大家唧唧喳喳地议论起来，他在这嘈杂声的掩护下，趁机悄悄对范妮说：“我感到遗憾，大家拿我在索瑟顿那天的表现来判断我的设计才能。我现在的见解与那时大不一样了。不要以我当时的表现来看待我。”
　　索瑟顿这几个字对诺里斯太太最有吸引力。这时，她和托马斯爵士刚刚靠巧计赢了格兰特博士夫妇的一手好牌，情绪正高，一听到这几个字，诺里斯太太兴冲冲地叫道：“索瑟顿！是呀，那真是个好地方，我们在那儿度过好痛快的一天。威廉，你来得真不巧。不过你下次来的时候，但愿亲爱的拉什沃思夫妇不要再外出了，我敢担保他们两人都会盛情接待你。你的表姐们都不是会忘掉亲戚的那种人，而拉什沃思先生又是个顶顶和蔼的人。你知道吧，他们现在在布赖顿——住的是最上等的房子，因为拉什沃思先生有的是钱，完全住得起。我说不出确切的距离，不过你回到朴次茅斯的时候，如果不太远的话，你应该去看看他们。我有一个小包要给你的两个表姐，你顺便给我带去。”
　　“大姨妈，我倒是很愿意去。不过布赖顿几乎紧挨着比奇角，我即使能跑那么远，我这么一个小小的海军候补少尉，到了那样一个时髦的阔地方恐怕是不会受欢迎的。”
　　诺里斯太太急切地刚开口向他保证说，他尽管放心，肯定会受到热情的接待，托马斯爵士便打断了她的话，以权威的口吻说道：“威廉，我倒不劝你去布赖顿。我相信你们不久就会有更方便的见面机会。不过，我的女儿们在任何地方见到她们的表弟、表妹都会很高兴。你还会发现，拉什沃思先生真心诚意地把我们家的亲戚当做他自己的亲戚。”
　　“我倒宁愿他当上海军大臣的私人秘书，”威廉小声说了一句，不想让别人听见，这个话题也就撂下不谈了。
　　到现在为止，托马斯爵士还没看出克劳福德先生的举止中有什么值得注意的地方。但是，等打完第二局惠斯特牌桌已经解散，只剩下格兰特博士和诺里斯太太在为上一盘争论的时候，托马斯爵士在旁边观看另一张牌桌，发现他外甥女成了献殷勤的对象，或者说得确切点，对外甥女说的话带有一定的针对性。
　　亨利·克劳福德又满腔热情地提出了一个改造桑顿莱西的方案，因为没能引起埃德蒙的兴趣，便一本正经地向他漂亮的邻座细说起来。他打算来年冬天由他自己把那房子租下来，这样他就可以在附近有一个自己的家。他租房子并不像他刚才说的那样，仅仅是为了打猎季节用一下，尽管这也是个重要因素，因为他觉得虽说格兰特博士为人极其厚道，但他连人带马住在别人家里总会给人家带来很大不便。他之所以喜欢这一带，并不仅仅是基于一个季节打猎的考虑，他一心想在这里有一个安身之处，想什么时候来就什么时候来，有一个自己的小院，一年的假日都可以在这里度过，跟曼斯菲尔德庄园的一家人继续保持、不断增进他越来越珍惜的情谊，使这情谊日臻完美。托马斯爵士听到了他这话，并不觉得刺耳。这年轻人的话里并没有轻薄之词，范妮的反应适度得体，冷静淡漠，他没有什么好指摘的。范妮话很少，只是偶尔对这句话那句话表示同意，听到恭维丝毫没有流露出感激之情，听他夸奖北安普敦郡也不去随声附和。亨利·克劳福德发现托马斯爵士在注意自己，便转过身跟他扯起了这个话题，语气比较平淡，但言词依然热烈。
　　“我想做您的邻居，托马斯爵士，我刚才告诉了普莱斯小姐，您可能已经听见了。我是否可望得到您的同意，您是否能允许您的儿子不要拒绝我这个房客？”
　　托马斯爵士客气地点了点头，答道：“先生，你要在附近定居，跟我们家长久为邻，这我欢迎，但却不能以做房客的方式。不过我想，而且也相信，埃德蒙要住进他桑顿莱西的那座房子。埃德蒙，我这样说过不过分？”
　　埃德蒙听父亲这样问他，先得听听他们刚才在谈什么，等一打听清楚，就觉得没什么不好回答的。
　　“当然啦，爸爸，我已打定主意住到那儿。不过，克劳福德，虽然我拒不接受你做房客，但是欢迎你以朋友的身份到我那儿去住。每年冬天都把我的房子当做一半属于你，我们将根据你修改后的计划增加马厩，并根据你今年春天可能想出的修正方案，再进行一些改建。”
　　“受损失的是我们，”托马斯爵士接着说。“他要走了，虽然离我们只有八英里，我们还是不愿意家里又少了一个人。不过，我的哪个儿子要是做不到这一点，我会感到莫大的耻辱。当然，克劳福德先生，你在这个问题上不会想这么多。一个牧师如果不经常住在教区，他就不知道教区需要什么，有什么要求，靠代理人是了解不到那么多的。埃德蒙可以像人们常说的那样，既履行他在桑顿莱西的职责，也就是做祈祷、讲道，同时又不放弃曼斯菲尔德庄园。他可以每星期天骑马到他名义上的住宅去一次，领着大家做一次礼拜。他可以每七天去桑顿莱西当上三四个小时的牧师，如果他感到心安理得的话。但他是不会心安理得的。他知道，人性需要的教导不是每星期一次讲道就能解决的。他还知道，如果他不生活在他的教民中间，不通过经常的关心表明他是他们的祝愿者和朋友，那他给他们和他自己都带来不了多少好处。”
　　克劳福德先生点头表示同意。
　　“我再说一遍，”托马斯爵士补充说道，“在那一带，桑顿莱西是我不想让克劳福德先生租用的唯一的一幢房子。”
　　克劳福德先生点头表示谢意。
　　“毫无疑问，”埃德蒙说，“托马斯爵士了解教区牧师的职责。我们应该希望，他的儿子能表明自己也懂得这种职责。”
　　托马斯爵士的简短训导不管能对克劳福德先生起多大作用，却使两个在座的人，两个最专心听他讲话的人——克劳福德小姐和范妮，感到局促不安。其中一个从没想到埃德蒙这么快就要完全以桑顿为家，于是耷拉着眼皮思索不能天天见到他该是个什么滋味。那另一个听了哥哥的描述之后，原来还抱着惬意的幻想，在她对桑顿的未来憧憬中，教堂给排除在外，牧师也被置诸脑后，桑顿成了一位富贵人士的高雅考究、现代化的、偶尔来住几天的宅第。现在，她被托马斯爵士的话从梦幻中惊醒，心中的那幅图画也随之破灭。她认为这一切都是托马斯爵士破坏的，因而对他满怀敌意。他的那个德性和那副面孔令她生畏，她不碍不强忍着，就连想要泄愤对他来个反唇相讥都不敢。这使她越发感到痛苦。
　　眼下她打的如意算盘全都完了。由于不断有人说话，牌也无法再打下去。她很高兴能结束这一局面，趁机换个地方，换个人坐在一起，振作一下精神。
　　多数人都围着火炉散乱地坐着，等待最后散场。威廉和范妮却没有跟着过来，依然坐在散掉了的牌桌边，愉快地聊着天，忘掉了其余的人，直至其余的人想到了他们。亨利·克劳福德第一个把椅子转向他们，默默不语地坐在那里观察了他们好一阵。与此同时，托马斯爵士一边站在那里和格兰特博士闲聊，一边在观察他。
　　“今晚该有舞会，”威廉说。“我要是在朴次茅斯的话，也许会去参加的。”
　　“可你不会希望你现在是在朴次茅斯吧，威廉？”
　　“是的，范妮，我不希望。你不在我身边时，朴次茅斯够我玩的了，舞也够我跳的了。我觉得去参加舞会也没有什么意思，我可能连个舞伴都找不到。朴次茅斯的姑娘只瞧得起当官的。当个海军候补少尉还不如什么都不是，真不如什么都不是。你记得格雷戈里家的姑娘吧，她们已经出落成光彩夺目的漂亮小姐，但是简直都不爱答理我，因为有一位海军上尉在追露西。”
　　“噢！真不像话，真不像话！不过，你不要放在心上，威廉。（说话间她自己的脸气得通红。）不值得放在心上。这完全无损于你。那些最伟大的海军将领们年轻时或多或少都经历过这类事情。你要这样想，你要把它看成每个水手都会遇到的不如意的事情，就像恶劣的天气和艰苦的生活一样，但是这种不如意的事也有它的好处，那就是它总有结束的时候，总有一天你用不着再去忍受这种不如意的事了。等你当上海军上尉再看吧！你想想看，威廉，等你当上了海军上尉，你就不用计较这类无聊的事了。”
　　“范妮，我觉得我永远也当不上海军上尉。人家个个都升官了，就是我没有。”
　　“噢！亲爱的威廉，别这样说，别这样灰心丧气。姨父虽然没有说出来，但我相信他会竭尽全力使你得到提拔。他和你一样清楚这是多么重要的一件事情。”
　　范妮发现姨父距离他们比她原以为的要近得多，便连忙住口。两人只得谈起别的事情。
　　“你喜欢跳舞吗，范妮？”
　　“喜欢，非常喜欢。只是跳一会儿就会累的。”
　　“我倒想和你一起去参加舞会，看看你跳得怎么样。你们北安普敦从不举行舞会吗？我想看你跳舞，你要是愿意，还想陪你一起跳，反正这里没有人认识我，我想再做你的舞伴。我们以前曾多次在一起跳来跳去，对吧？当时街上还响起手摇风琴吧？我跳得相当好，独具一格，不过你比我跳得还要好。”这时，他们的姨父来到他们跟前，他转向姨父说：“范妮跳舞跳得很好吧，姨父？”
　　范妮听到这个突如其来的问题颇为惊愕，她不知道眼睛往哪里看是好，也不知道姨父会说出什么话。姨父肯定会严厉地训斥几句，至少会冷若冰霜地不屑一顾，让哥哥感到难堪，她自己无地自容。然而，与之相反，姨父只不过说：“很抱歉，我无法回答你的问题。范妮从小到现在，我还从没看见她跳过舞。不过我相信，她要是跳起舞来，我们都会觉得她像个大家闺秀，也许我们不久就会有这样的机会。”
　　“普莱斯先生，我有幸见到过你妹妹跳舞，”亨利·克劳福德倾身向前说道，“你有什么问题尽管问我好了，我负责回答，保证让你百分之百满意。不过我想（看到范妮神情尴尬），必须以后找个时候再说。茌场的人里，有一个人不喜欢普莱斯小姐给说来说去。”
　　一点不错，他曾经看到过范妮跳舞。同样一点不错，他现在可以回答说范妮悠然迈着轻盈优美的步履在场子里跳来跳去，实际上根本记不起她跳舞跳得怎么样。可以说，他觉得她理所当然到过舞场，而不是他记起了什么。
　　不过，大家也只是以为他夸范妮舞跳得好而已。托马斯爵士没有因此而感到丝毫不悦，反倒继续谈论跳舞，兴致勃勃地描绘安提瓜的舞会，听外甥讲述他所见过的各种舞蹈，仆人通报马车到了他都没听见，后来看见诺里斯太太张罗起来他才知道。
　　“喂，范妮，你在干什么呀？我们走了。你没看见二姨妈已经起身了吗？快，快。我不忍心让威尔科克斯老汉在外面等着。你得时刻替车夫和马着想。亲爱的托马斯爵士，我们就这么定了，让马车回来接你和埃德蒙、威廉。”
　　托马斯爵士不能不表示同意，因为这原是他安排的，事前就告诉了他妻子和大姨子。不过诺里斯太太似乎忘了这一点，自以为是由她决定的。
　　范妮这次做客临走时感到有些失意：埃德蒙正不声不响地从仆人手里接过披巾，要给她披上，不想克劳福德先生动作更快，一把抢了过去。尽管这是更加露骨的献殷勤，她还不得不表示感激。　

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 27楼发表于: 2013-10-28 0

Chapter Twenty-six

  William's desire of seeing Fanny dance made more than a momentary impression on his uncle. The hope of an opportunity, which Sir Thomas had then given, was not given to be thought of no more. He remained steadily inclined to gratify so amiable a feeling; to gratify anybody else who might wish to see Fanny dance, and to give pleasure to the young people in general; and having thought the matter over, and taken his resolution in quiet independence, the result of it appeared the next morning at breakfast, when, after recalling and commending what his nephew had said, he added, "I do not like, William, that you should leave Northamptonshire without this indulgence. It would give me pleasure to see you both dance. You spoke of the balls at Northampton. Your cousins have occasionally attended them; but they would not altogether suit us now. The fatigue would be too much for your aunt. I believe we must not think of a Northampton ball. A dance at home would be more eligible; and if--"

  "Ah, my dear Sir Thomas!" interrupted Mrs. Norris, "I knew what was coming. I knew what you were going to say. If dear Julia were at home, or dearest Mrs. Rushworth at Sotherton, to afford a reason, an occasion for such a thing, you would be tempted to give the young people a dance at Mansfield. I know you would. If _they_ were at home to grace the ball, a ball you would have this very Christmas. Thank your uncle, William, thank your uncle!"

  "My daughters," replied Sir Thomas, gravely interposing, "have their pleasures at Brighton, and I hope are very happy; but the dance which I think of giving at Mansfield will be for their cousins. Could we be all assembled, our satisfaction would undoubtedly be more complete, but the absence of some is not to debar the others of amusement."

  Mrs. Norris had not another word to say. She saw decision in his looks, and her surprise and vexation required some minutes' silence to be settled into composure. A ball at such a time! His daughters absent and herself not consulted! There was comfort, however, soon at hand. _She_ must be the doer of everything: Lady Bertram would of course be spared all thought and exertion, and it would all fall upon _her_. She should have to do the honours of the evening; and this reflection quickly restored so much of her good-humour as enabled her to join in with the others, before their happiness and thanks were all expressed.

  Edmund, William, and Fanny did, in their different ways, look and speak as much grateful pleasure in the promised ball as Sir Thomas could desire. Edmund's feelings were for the other two. His father had never conferred a favour or shewn a kindness more to his satisfaction.

  Lady Bertram was perfectly quiescent and contented, and had no objections to make. Sir Thomas engaged for its giving her very little trouble; and she assured him "that she was not at all afraid of the trouble; indeed, she could not imagine there would be any."

  Mrs. Norris was ready with her suggestions as to the rooms he would think fittest to be used, but found it all prearranged; and when she would have conjectured and hinted about the day, it appeared that the day was settled too. Sir Thomas had been amusing himself with shaping a very complete outline of the business; and as soon as she would listen quietly, could read his list of the families to be invited, from whom he calculated, with all necessary allowance for the shortness of the notice, to collect young people enough to form twelve or fourteen couple: and could detail the considerations which had induced him to fix on the 22nd as the most eligible day. William was required to be at Portsmouth on the 24th; the 22nd would therefore be the last day of his visit; but where the days were so few it would be unwise to fix on any earlier. Mrs. Norris was obliged to be satisfied with thinking just the same, and with having been on the point of proposing the 22nd herself, as by far the best day for the purpose.

  The ball was now a settled thing, and before the evening a proclaimed thing to all whom it concerned. Invitations were sent with despatch, and many a young lady went to bed that night with her head full of happy cares as well as Fanny. To her the cares were sometimes almost beyond the happiness; for young and inexperienced, with small means of choice and no confidence in her own taste, the "how she should be dressed" was a point of painful solicitude; and the almost solitary ornament in her possession, a very pretty amber cross which William had brought her from Sicily, was the greatest distress of all, for she had nothing but a bit of ribbon to fasten it to; and though she had worn it in that manner once, would it be allowable at such a time in the midst of all the rich ornaments which she supposed all the other young ladies would appear in? And yet not to wear it! William had wanted to buy her a gold chain too, but the purchase had been beyond his means, and therefore not to wear the cross might be mortifying him. These were anxious considerations; enough to sober her spirits even under the prospect of a ball given principally for her gratification.

  The preparations meanwhile went on, and Lady Bertram continued to sit on her sofa without any inconvenience from them. She had some extra visits from the housekeeper, and her maid was rather hurried in making up a new dress for her: Sir Thomas gave orders, and Mrs. Norris ran about; but all this gave _her_ no trouble, and as she had foreseen, "there was, in fact, no trouble in the business."

  Edmund was at this time particularly full of cares: his mind being deeply occupied in the consideration of two important events now at hand, which were to fix his fate in life--ordination and matrimony--events of such a serious character as to make the ball, which would be very quickly followed by one of them, appear of less moment in his eyes than in those of any other person in the house. On the 23rd he was going to a friend near Peterborough, in the same situation as himself, and they were to receive ordination in the course of the Christmas week. Half his destiny would then be determined, but the other half might not be so very smoothly wooed. His duties would be established, but the wife who was to share, and animate, and reward those duties, might yet be unattainable. He knew his own mind, but he was not always perfectly assured of knowing Miss Crawford's. There were points on which they did not quite agree; there were moments in which she did not seem propitious; and though trusting altogether to her affection, so far as to be resolved--almost resolved-- on bringing it to a decision within a very short time, as soon as the variety of business before him were arranged, and he knew what he had to offer her, he had many anxious feelings, many doubting hours as to the result. His conviction of her regard for him was sometimes very strong; he could look back on a long course of encouragement, and she was as perfect in disinterested attachment as in everything else. But at other times doubt and alarm intermingled with his hopes; and when he thought of her acknowledged disinclination for privacy and retirement, her decided preference of a London life, what could he expect but a determined rejection? unless it were an acceptance even more to be deprecated, demanding such sacrifices of situation and employment on his side as conscience must forbid.

  The issue of all depended on one question. Did she love him well enough to forego what had used to be essential points? Did she love him well enough to make them no longer essential? And this question, which he was continually repeating to himself, though oftenest answered with a "Yes," had sometimes its "No."

  Miss Crawford was soon to leave Mansfield, and on this circumstance the "no" and the "yes" had been very recently in alternation. He had seen her eyes sparkle as she spoke of the dear friend's letter, which claimed a long visit from her in London, and of the kindness of Henry, in engaging to remain where he was till January, that he might convey her thither; he had heard her speak of the pleasure of such a journey with an animation which had "no" in every tone. But this had occurred on the first day of its being settled, within the first hour of the burst of such enjoyment, when nothing but the friends she was to visit was before her. He had since heard her express herself differently, with other feelings, more chequered feelings: he had heard her tell Mrs. Grant that she should leave her with regret; that she began to believe neither the friends nor the pleasures she was going to were worth those she left behind; and that though she felt she must go, and knew she should enjoy herself when once away, she was already looking forward to being at Mansfield again. Was there not a "yes" in all this?

  With such matters to ponder over, and arrange, and re-arrange, Edmund could not, on his own account, think very much of the evening which the rest of the family were looking forward to with a more equal degree of strong interest. Independent of his two cousins' enjoyment in it, the evening was to him of no higher value than any other appointed meeting of the two families might be. In every meeting there was a hope of receiving farther confirmation of Miss Crawford's attachment; but the whirl of a ballroom, perhaps, was not particularly favourable to the excitement or expression of serious feelings. To engage her early for the two first dances was all the command of individual happiness which he felt in his power, and the only preparation for the ball which he could enter into, in spite of all that was passing around him on the subject, from morning till night.

  Thursday was the day of the ball; and on Wednesday morning Fanny, still unable to satisfy herself as to what she ought to wear, determined to seek the counsel of the more enlightened, and apply to Mrs. Grant and her sister, whose acknowledged taste would certainly bear her blameless; and as Edmund and William were gone to Northampton, and she had reason to think Mr. Crawford likewise out, she walked down to the Parsonage without much fear of wanting an opportunity for private discussion; and the privacy of such a discussion was a most important part of it to Fanny, being more than half-ashamed of her own solicitude.

  She met Miss Crawford within a few yards of the Parsonage, just setting out to call on her, and as it seemed to her that her friend, though obliged to insist on turning back, was unwilling to lose her walk, she explained her business at once, and observed, that if she would be so kind as to give her opinion, it might be all talked over as well without doors as within. Miss Crawford appeared gratified by the application, and after a moment's thought, urged Fanny's returning with her in a much more cordial manner than before, and proposed their going up into her room, where they might have a comfortable coze, without disturbing Dr. and Mrs. Grant, who were together in the drawing-room. It was just the plan to suit Fanny; and with a great deal of gratitude on her side for such ready and kind attention, they proceeded indoors, and upstairs, and were soon deep in the interesting subject. Miss Crawford, pleased with the appeal, gave her all her best judgment and taste, made everything easy by her suggestions, and tried to make everything agreeable by her encouragement. The dress being settled in all its grander parts-- "But what shall you have by way of necklace?" said Miss Crawford. "Shall not you wear your brother's cross?" And as she spoke she was undoing a small parcel, which Fanny had observed in her hand when they met. Fanny acknowledged her wishes and doubts on this point: she did not know how either to wear the cross, or to refrain from wearing it. She was answered by having a small trinket-box placed before her, and being requested to chuse from among several gold chains and necklaces. Such had been the parcel with which Miss Crawford was provided, and such the object of her intended visit: and in the kindest manner she now urged Fanny's taking one for the cross and to keep for her sake, saying everything she could think of to obviate the scruples which were making Fanny start back at first with a look of horror at the proposal.

  "You see what a collection I have," said she; "more by half than I ever use or think of. I do not offer them as new. I offer nothing but an old necklace. You must forgive the liberty, and oblige me."

  Fanny still resisted, and from her heart. The gift was too valuable. But Miss Crawford persevered, and argued the case with so much affectionate earnestness through all the heads of William and the cross, and the ball, and herself, as to be finally successful. Fanny found herself obliged to yield, that she might not be accused of pride or indifference, or some other littleness; and having with modest reluctance given her consent, proceeded to make the selection. She looked and looked, longing to know which might be least valuable; and was determined in her choice at last, by fancying there was one necklace more frequently placed before her eyes than the rest. It was of gold, prettily worked; and though Fanny would have preferred a longer and a plainer chain as more adapted for her purpose, she hoped, in fixing on this, to be chusing what Miss Crawford least wished to keep. Miss Crawford smiled her perfect approbation; and hastened to complete the gift by putting the necklace round her, and making her see how well it looked. Fanny had not a word to say against its becomingness, and, excepting what remained of her scruples, was exceedingly pleased with an acquisition so very apropos. She would rather, perhaps, have been obliged to some other person. But this was an unworthy feeling. Miss Crawford had anticipated her wants with a kindness which proved her a real friend. "When I wear this necklace I shall always think of you," said she, "and feel how very kind you were."

  "You must think of somebody else too, when you wear that necklace," replied Miss Crawford. "You must think of Henry, for it was his choice in the first place. He gave it to me, and with the necklace I make over to you all the duty of remembering the original giver. It is to be a family remembrancer. The sister is not to be in your mind without bringing the brother too."

  Fanny, in great astonishment and confusion, would have returned the present instantly. To take what had been the gift of another person, of a brother too, impossible! it must not be! and with an eagerness and embarrassment quite diverting to her companion, she laid down the necklace again on its cotton, and seemed resolved either to take another or none at all. Miss Crawford thought she had never seen a prettier consciousness. "My dear child," said she, laughing, "what are you afraid of? Do you think Henry will claim the necklace as mine, and fancy you did not come honestly by it? or are you imagining he would be too much flattered by seeing round your lovely throat an ornament which his money purchased three years ago, before he knew there was such a throat in the world? or perhaps"--looking archly-- "you suspect a confederacy between us, and that what I am now doing is with his knowledge and at his desire?"

  With the deepest blushes Fanny protested against such a thought.

  "Well, then," replied Miss Crawford more seriously, but without at all believing her, "to convince me that you suspect no trick, and are as unsuspicious of compliment as I have always found you, take the necklace and say no more about it. Its being a gift of my brother's need not make the smallest difference in your accepting it, as I assure you it makes none in my willingness to part with it. He is always giving me something or other. I have such innumerable presents from him that it is quite impossible for me to value or for him to remember half. And as for this necklace, I do not suppose I have worn it six times: it is very pretty, but I never think of it; and though you would be most heartily welcome to any other in my trinket-box, you have happened to fix on the very one which, if I have a choice, I would rather part with and see in your possession than any other. Say no more against it, I entreat you. Such a trifle is not worth half so many words."

  Fanny dared not make any farther opposition; and with renewed but less happy thanks accepted the necklace again, for there was an expression in Miss Crawford's eyes which she could not be satisfied with.

  It was impossible for her to be insensible of Mr. Crawford's change of manners. She had long seen it. He evidently tried to please her: he was gallant, he was attentive, he was something like what he had been to her cousins: he wanted, she supposed, to cheat her of her tranquillity as he had cheated them; and whether he might not have some concern in this necklace--she could not be convinced that he had not, for Miss Crawford, complaisant as a sister, was careless as a woman and a friend.

  Reflecting and doubting, and feeling that the possession of what she had so much wished for did not bring much satisfaction, she now walked home again, with a change rather than a diminution of cares since her treading that path before.

　　威廉想看范妮跳舞，姨父把这件事牢记在心。托马斯爵士答应要给他一个机会，并非说过就抛到脑后了。他打定主意要满足威廉对妹妹的这份亲切情意，满足想要看范妮跳舞的其他人的心愿，同时给所有年轻人一次娱乐的机会。他经过仔细考虑，暗自做了决定，第二天早晨吃早饭时，重又提起了外甥说的话，并加以赞赏，接着补充说：“威廉，我要让你在离开北安普敦郡之前参加这样一次活动。我很乐意看着你们俩跳舞。你上次提到北安普敦的舞会。你表哥表姐偶尔去参加过，不过那里的舞会现在并不完全适合我们，太累人了，你姨妈吃不消。依我看，我们不要去考虑北安普敦什么时候举行舞会，在家里开个舞会可能更合适。要是——”
　　“啊！亲爱的托马斯爵士，”诺里斯太太打断了他的话，“我知道下面会怎么样。我知道下面你要说什么。要是亲爱的朱莉娅在家，要是最亲爱的拉什沃思太太在索瑟顿，就为举行这样的活动提供了一个理由，你会想在曼斯菲尔德给年轻人开个舞会。我知道你会这样做的。要是她们俩能在家为舞会增色，你今年圣诞节就可以举行舞会。谢谢你姨父，威廉，谢谢你姨父。”
　　“我的女儿们，”托马斯爵士一本正经地插嘴道，“在布赖顿自有她们的娱乐活动，我想她们玩得非常快乐。我想在曼斯菲尔德举办的舞会是为她们的表弟表妹举办的。如果全家人都在，那肯定会高兴极了。不过，不能因为有的人不在家，就不让其他人组织娱乐活动。”
　　诺里斯太太没再说话。她从脸色上看出，托马斯爵士主意已定。她又惊奇又恼火，过了一会才平静下来。居然在这个时候举办舞会！他的女儿都不在家，事先也不征求她的意见！不过，她马上就感到欣慰了。一切必然由她操办。伯特伦夫人当然不会费心出力，事情会整个落在她身上。舞会将由她主持，一想到这里，她的心情立即大为好转，大家表示高兴和感谢的话还没说完，她便和大家一起有说有笑了。
　　埃德蒙、威廉和范妮听说要开舞会，正如托马斯爵士所希望的那样，在神情和言词中，都以不同的方式表现了自己的欣喜感激之情。埃德蒙是为那兄妹俩感激父亲。父亲以前给人帮忙或做好事，从来没有让他这样高兴过。
　　伯特伦夫人一动不动地坐着，感到十分满意，没有任何意见。托马斯爵士向她保证舞会不会给她增添什么麻烦，她则向丈夫保证说：她压根儿不怕麻烦，其实她也想象不出会有什么麻烦。
　　诺里斯太太欣欣然地正想建议用哪些房间举行舞会．却发现舞场早已安排妥当，她想在日期上发表个意见，看来舞会的日期也已经定好了。托马斯爵士饶有兴味地制订了一个周密的计划，一旦诺里斯太太能静下来听他说话，他便念了念准备邀请的家庭名单，考虑到通知发得比较晚，预计能请到十二或十四对年轻人，接着又陈述了他把日期定在二十二日的理由。威廉二十四日就得赶回朴次茅斯，因而二十二日是他来此探亲的最后一天。再说，鉴于时间已很仓促，又不宜于再往前提，诺里斯太太只得表示这正符合她的想法，她本来也打算建议定在二十二日，认为这一天合适极了。
　　举办舞会的事已完全说定了，黄昏未到，相关的人已个个皆知。请帖迅速发出了，不少年轻小姐像范妮一样，当晚就寝时心里乐滋滋地琢磨来琢磨去。范妮琢磨的事情有时几乎越出了快乐的范畴。她年纪轻，经历少，没有多少选择的余地，加上对自己的眼光又缺乏自信，“我该怎么打扮”也就成了一个伤脑筋的问题。威廉从西西里岛给她带回的一个十分漂亮的琥珀十字架，是她拥有的唯一的装饰品。正是这件装饰品给她带来了最大的苦恼，因为她没有别的东西来系这十字架，只有一条缎带。她以前曾经这样戴过一次，但是这一次其他小姐都会戴着贵重的装饰品，她还能那样戴着出现在她们中间吗？然而要是不戴呀！威廉原来还想给她买一根金项链，但钱不够没有买成。因此，她要是不戴这个十字架，那会伤他的心。这重重顾虑使她焦灼不安。尽管舞会主要是为她举办的，她也打不起精神。
　　舞会的准备工作正在进行，伯特伦夫人依然坐在沙发上，全都不用她操心。女管家多来了几趟，侍女在为她赶制新装。托马斯爵士下命令，诺里斯太太跑腿，这一切没给伯特伦夫人带来丝毫麻烦，像她预料的那样：“其实，这件事没什么麻烦的。”
　　埃德蒙这时候的心事特别多，满脑子都在考虑行将决定他一生命运的两件事——接受圣职和结婚——两件事都很重大，其中一件舞会过后就要来临，因此他不像家里其他人那样看重这场舞会。二十三日他要到彼得伯勒附近去找一个与他境况相同的朋友，准备在圣诞节那个星期一起去接受圣职。到那时，他的命运就决定了一半 ——另外一半却不一定能顺利解决。他的职责将确定下来，但是分担他的职责、给他的职责带来欢乐和奖赏的妻子，却可能还得不到。他清楚自己内心的想法，但是克劳福德小姐是怎么想的，他有时并没有把握。有些问题他们的看法不尽一致，有些时候她似乎不很合意。尽管他完全相信她的情意，决定（几乎决定）一旦眼前的种种事务安排妥当，一旦他知道有什么可以奉献给她，他便尽快做出决断，但他对后果如何常常忧虑重重，放心不下。有时候，他深信她有意于他。他能回想起她长期对他情意绵绵，而且像在其他方面一样，对他的情意完全不是出于金钱的考虑。但有的时候，他的希望当中又掺杂着疑虑和担心。他想起她曾明确表示不愿隐居乡下，而要生活在伦敦——这不是对他的断然拒绝又是什么？除非他做出自我牺牲，放弃他的职位和职业，她也许会接受他，但那越发使不得了，他的良心不允许他这样做。
　　这件事整个取决于一个问题。她是否十分爱他，甘愿放弃那些极为重要的条件——是否十分爱他，已经觉得那些条件不再那么重要了？他经常拿这个问题自问自答，虽然他的回答常常是肯定的，但有时也会是否定的。
　　克劳福德小姐很快就要离开曼斯菲尔德了，因此在最近，那肯定和否定的念头在交替出现。她收到了朋友的来信，请她到伦敦多住些日子，而亨利答应在这里住到元月，以便把她送到伦敦。她一说起朋友的这封信和亨利的这番厚意，两眼不禁闪烁着喜悦的光芒。她谈到伦敦之行的喜悦时，他从她兴奋的语调中听出了否定。不过，这只是在做出决定的第一天发生的，而且是在得到这可喜消息后的一个钟头之内，当时她心中只有她要去看望的朋友。自那以后，他听她说起话来不一样了，感情也有所不同——心里比较矛盾。他听她对格兰特太太说她舍不得离开她，还说她要去见的朋友、要去寻求的快乐，都赶不上她要告别的朋友、要舍弃的乐趣。尽管她非去不可，也知道去了后会过得很快活，但她已在盼望重返曼斯菲尔德。难道这里面没有肯定的成分吗？
　　由于有这样一些问题要考虑，要筹划来筹划去，埃德蒙也就无法像家里其他人那样兴致勃勃地期盼那个夜晚。在他看来，那个夜晚除了能给表弟表妹带来快乐之外，跟两家人的平常聚会比起来，也没有什么大不了的。往常每次聚会的时候，他都渴望克劳福德小姐进…步向他表白真情。但在熙熙攘攘的舞场上，也许不太利于她产生和表白这样的情感。他提前和她约定，要跟她跳头两曲舞，这是这次舞会所能给他个人带来的全部快乐，也是别人从早到晚都在为舞会忙碌的时候，他所做的唯一一点准备工作。
　　舞会在星期四举行。星期三早晨，范妮仍然拿不准她应该穿什么衣服，便决心去征求更有见识的人的意见，于是就去请教格兰特太太和她妹妹。大家公认这两个人富有见识，按照她们的意见去办，肯定万无一失。既然埃德蒙和威廉到北安普敦去了，她有理由猜想克劳福德先生也不会在家，于是便向牧师住宅走去，心想不会找不到机会和那姐妹俩私下商量。对于范妮来说，这次求教要在私下进行是非常重要的，因为她对自己这样操心打扮有点害羞。
　　她在离牧师住宅几米远的地方碰到了克劳福德小姐。克劳福德小姐正要去找她。范妮觉得，她的朋友虽然不得不执意要折回去，但并不乐意失去散步的机会。因此范妮立即道明来意，说对方如果愿意帮忙，给她出出主意，在户外说和在家里说都一样。克劳福德小姐听说向她求教，似乎感到很高兴，稍微想了想，便显出更加亲热的样子，请范妮跟她一起回去，并建议到楼上她的房里，安安静静地聊聊天，而不要打扰了待在客厅里的格兰特夫妇。这正合范妮的心思。她非常感激朋友的一片好意。她们走进房内，上了楼梯，不久就深入地谈起了正题。克劳福德小姐很乐于范妮向她求教，尽力把自己的见识传授给她，替她出主意，使样样事情都变容易了，一边又不断鼓励她，使样样事情都带上了快乐的色彩。服装的大问题已经解决了，“不过你戴什么项链呢？”克劳福德小姐问。“你戴不戴你哥哥送你的十字架？”她一边说一边解开一个小包，她们在门外相遇的时候，范妮就看见她手里拿着这个小包。范妮向她坦言了自己在这个问题上的心愿和疑虑，不知道是戴好还是不戴好。她得到的答复是，一个小小的首饰盒摆在了她面前，请她从儿条金链子和金项链中任选一条。这就是克劳福德小姐拿的那个小包里的东西，她要去看范妮也就是要把这些东西送给她挑选。现在，她极其亲切地恳求范妮挑一条配她的十字架，也好留做纪念，范妮一听吓了一跳，脸上露出惊恐的神色，她再三好言相劝，帮她打消顾虑。
　　“你看我有多少条，”克劳福德小姐说，“我连一半都用不上，平时也想不起来了。我又不是给你新买的，只不过送你一条旧项链。你要原谅我的冒失，给我点面子。”
　　范妮仍然拒不肯收，而且是从心坎里不想收。这礼物太贵重了。然而克劳福德小姐不肯作罢，情真意切地向她说明理由，叫她替威廉和那十字架着想，替舞会着想，也替她自己着想，终于把她说服了。范妮不得不从命，免得落个瞧不起人、不够朋友之类的罪名。她有些勉强地答应了她，开始挑选。她看了又看，想断定哪一条价钱最便宜。其中有一条她觉得她见到的次数多一些，最后便选择了这一条。这是条精致的金项链。虽说她觉得一条比较长的、没有特殊花样的金链子对她更合适，但她还是选择了这一条，认为这是克劳福德小姐最不想保留的。克劳福德小姐笑了笑表示十分赞许，赶忙来了个功戚愿满的举动，把项链戴在她脖子上，让她对着镜子看看多么合适。
　　范妮觉得戴在脖子上是很好看，能得到这样一件合适的装饰，不由得感到很高兴，不过心里的顾虑并未完全消除。她觉得这份人情若是欠了别的什么人，也许会好些。不过她不该这么想。克劳福德小姐待她这么好，事先考虑到了她的需要，证明是她的真正朋友。“我戴着这条项链的时候，时刻都会想着你，”她说，“记着你对我多么好。”
　　“你戴着这条项链的时候，还应该想起另外一个人，”克劳福德小姐回答道。“你应该想起亨利，因为这原是他买的。他给了我，我现在把它转赠给你，由你来记住这原来的赠链人吧。想到妹妹也要想到哥哥。”
　　范妮听了大为骇然，不知所措，想立即归还礼物。接受别人授之于人的礼物——而且是哥哥赠的——决不能这样做！绝对不行！她急急忙忙、慌慌张张地把项链又放回棉花垫上，似乎想要再换一条，或者一条也不要，让朋友觉得很有意思。克劳福德小姐心想，她还从没见过这么多虑的人。“亲爱的姑娘，”她笑着说道，“你怕什么呀？你以为亨利见了会说这条项链是我的，你用不正当的手段弄到手的吗？你以为亨利看到这条项链戴在这么漂亮的脖子上，会感到异常高兴吗？要知道，他还没看到这漂亮的脖子之前，那项链已买了三年了。或许——”露出调皮的神情，“你大概怀疑我们串通一气，他事前已经得知，而且是他授意我这么做的吧？”
　　范妮面红耳赤，连忙分辩说她没有这么想。
　　“那好，”克劳福德小姐认真起来了，但并不相信她的话，回答道，“为了证明你不怀疑我耍弄花招，像往常一样相信我一片好心，你就把项链拿去，什么话都不要再讲。告诉你吧，我不会因为这是我哥哥送给我的，我就不能再送给别人；同样，也不能因为这是我哥哥送给我的，我再送你的时候你就不能接受。他总是送我这个送我那个的。他送我的礼物不计其数．我不可能样样都当宝贝，他自己也大半都忘记了。至于这条项链，我想我戴了不到六次。这条项链是很漂亮，可我从没把它放在心上。虽然首饰盒里的链子和项链你挑哪一条我都欢迎之至，但说实话，你恰好挑了我最舍得送人，也最愿意让你挑去的一条。我求你什么也别说了。这么一件小事，不值得我们费这么多口舌。”
　　范妮不敢再推辞了，只好重新道谢，接受了项链。不过，她不像起初那么高兴了，因为克劳福德小姐眼里有一股神气，使她看了不悦。
　　克劳福德先生的态度变了，她不可能没有察觉。她早就看出来了。他显然想讨她的欢心，对她献殷勤，有点像过去对她的两个表姐那样。她猜想，他是想像耍弄她们那样耍弄她。他未必与这条项链没有关系吧！她不相信与他无关。克劳福德小姐虽然是个关心哥哥的妹妹，但却是个漫不经心的女人，不会体贴朋友。
　　范妮在回家的路上想来想去，满腹疑云，即便得到了自己朝思暮想的东西，心里也不觉得多么高兴。来时的重重忧虑现在并没有减少，只不过换了一种性质而已。　

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 28楼发表于: 2013-10-28 0

Chapter Twenty-seven

  On reaching home Fanny went immediately upstairs to deposit this unexpected acquisition, this doubtful good of a necklace, in some favourite box in the East room, which held all her smaller treasures; but on opening the door, what was her surprise to find her cousin Edmund there writing at the table! Such a sight having never occurred before, was almost as wonderful as it was welcome.

  "Fanny," said he directly, leaving his seat and his pen, and meeting her with something in his hand, "I beg your pardon for being here. I came to look for you, and after waiting a little while in hope of your coming in, was making use of your inkstand to explain my errand. You will find the beginning of a note to yourself; but I can now speak my business, which is merely to beg your acceptance of this little trifle--a chain for William's cross. You ought to have had it a week ago, but there has been a delay from my brother's not being in town by several days so soon as I expected; and I have only just now received it at Northampton. I hope you will like the chain itself, Fanny. I endeavoured to consult the simplicity of your taste; but, at any rate, I know you will be kind to my intentions, and consider it, as it really is, a token of the love of one of your oldest friends."

  And so saying, he was hurrying away, before Fanny, overpowered by a thousand feelings of pain and pleasure, could attempt to speak; but quickened by one sovereign wish, she then called out, "Oh! cousin, stop a moment, pray stop!"

  He turned back.

  "I cannot attempt to thank you," she continued, in a very agitated manner; "thanks are out of the question. I feel much more than I can possibly express. Your goodness in thinking of me in such a way is beyond-- "

  "If that is all you have to say, Fanny" smiling and turning away again.

  "No, no, it is not. I want to consult you."

  Almost unconsciously she had now undone the parcel he had just put into her hand, and seeing before her, in all the niceness of jewellers' packing, a plain gold chain, perfectly simple and neat, she could not help bursting forth again, "Oh, this is beautiful indeed! This is the very thing, precisely what I wished for! This is the only ornament I have ever had a desire to possess. It will exactly suit my cross. They must and shall be worn together. It comes, too, in such an acceptable moment. Oh, cousin, you do not know how acceptable it is."

  "My dear Fanny, you feel these things a great deal too much. I am most happy that you like the chain, and that it should be here in time for to-morrow; but your thanks are far beyond the occasion. Believe me, I have no pleasure in the world superior to that of contributing to yours. No, I can safely say, I have no pleasure so complete, so unalloyed. It is without a drawback."

  Upon such expressions of affection Fanny could have lived an hour without saying another word; but Edmund, after waiting a moment, obliged her to bring down her mind from its heavenly flight by saying, "But what is it that you want to consult me about?"

  It was about the necklace, which she was now most earnestly longing to return, and hoped to obtain his approbation of her doing. She gave the history of her recent visit, and now her raptures might well be over; for Edmund was so struck with the circumstance, so delighted with what Miss Crawford had done, so gratified by such a coincidence of conduct between them, that Fanny could not but admit the superior power of one pleasure over his own mind, though it might have its drawback. It was some time before she could get his attention to her plan, or any answer to her demand of his opinion: he was in a reverie of fond reflection, uttering only now and then a few half-sentences of praise; but when he did awake and understand, he was very decided in opposing what she wished.

  "Return the necklace! No, my dear Fanny, upon no account. It would be mortifying her severely. There can hardly be a more unpleasant sensation than the having anything returned on our hands which we have given with a reasonable hope of its contributing to the comfort of a friend. Why should she lose a pleasure which she has shewn herself so deserving of?"

  "If it had been given to me in the first instance," said Fanny, "I should not have thought of returning it; but being her brother's present, is not it fair to suppose that she would rather not part with it, when it is not wanted?"

  "She must not suppose it not wanted, not acceptable, at least: and its having been originally her brother's gift makes no difference; for as she was not prevented from offering, nor you from taking it on that account, it ought not to prevent you from keeping it. No doubt it is handsomer than mine, and fitter for a ballroom."

  "No, it is not handsomer, not at all handsomer in its way, and, for my purpose, not half so fit. The chain will agree with William's cross beyond all comparison better than the necklace."

  "For one night, Fanny, for only one night, if it _be_ a sacrifice; I am sure you will, upon consideration, make that sacrifice rather than give pain to one who has been so studious of your comfort. Miss Crawford's attentions to you have been--not more than you were justly entitled to-- I am the last person to think that _could_ _be_, but they have been invariable; and to be returning them with what must have something the _air_ of ingratitude, though I know it could never have the _meaning_, is not in your nature, I am sure. Wear the necklace, as you are engaged to do, to-morrow evening, and let the chain, which was not ordered with any reference to the ball, be kept for commoner occasions. This is my advice. I would not have the shadow of a coolness between the two whose intimacy I have been observing with the greatest pleasure, and in whose characters there is so much general resemblance in true generosity and natural delicacy as to make the few slight differences, resulting principally from situation, no reasonable hindrance to a perfect friendship. I would not have the shadow of a coolness arise," he repeated, his voice sinking a little, "between the two dearest objects I have on earth."

  He was gone as he spoke; and Fanny remained to tranquillise herself as she could. She was one of his two dearest-- that must support her. But the other: the first! She had never heard him speak so openly before, and though it told her no more than what she had long perceived, it was a stab, for it told of his own convictions and views. They were decided. He would marry Miss Crawford. It was a stab, in spite of every long-standing expectation; and she was obliged to repeat again and again, that she was one of his two dearest, before the words gave her any sensation. Could she believe Miss Crawford to deserve him, it would be--oh, how different would it be-- how far more tolerable! But he was deceived in her: he gave her merits which she had not; her faults were what they had ever been, but he saw them no longer. Till she had shed many tears over this deception, Fanny could not subdue her agitation; and the dejection which followed could only be relieved by the influence of fervent prayers for his happiness.

  It was her intention, as she felt it to be her duty, to try to overcome all that was excessive, all that bordered on selfishness, in her affection for Edmund. To call or to fancy it a loss, a disappointment, would be a presumption for which she had not words strong enough to satisfy her own humility. To think of him as Miss Crawford might be justified in thinking, would in her be insanity. To her he could be nothing under any circumstances; nothing dearer than a friend. Why did such an idea occur to her even enough to be reprobated and forbidden? It ought not to have touched on the confines of her imagination. She would endeavour to be rational, and to deserve the right of judging of Miss Crawford's character, and the privilege of true solicitude for him by a sound intellect and an honest heart.

  She had all the heroism of principle, and was determined to do her duty; but having also many of the feelings of youth and nature, let her not be much wondered at, if, after making all these good resolutions on the side of self-government, she seized the scrap of paper on which Edmund had begun writing to her, as a treasure beyond all her hopes, and reading with the tenderest emotion these words, "My very dear Fanny, you must do me the favour to accept" locked it up with the chain, as the dearest part of the gift. It was the only thing approaching to a letter which she had ever received from him; she might never receive another; 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; and there was a felicity in the flow of the first four words, in the arrangement of "My very dear Fanny," which she could have looked at for ever.

  Having regulated her thoughts and comforted her feelings by this happy mixture of reason and weakness, she was able in due time to go down and resume her usual employments near her aunt Bertram, and pay her the usual observances without any apparent want of spirits.

  Thursday, predestined to hope and enjoyment, came; and opened with more kindness to Fanny than such self-willed, unmanageable days often volunteer, for soon after breakfast a very friendly note was brought from Mr. Crawford to William, stating that as he found himself obliged to go to London on the morrow for a few days, he could not help trying to procure a companion; and therefore hoped that if William could make up his mind to leave Mansfield half a day earlier than had been proposed, he would accept a place in his carriage. Mr. Crawford meant to be in town by his uncle's accustomary late dinner-hour, and William was invited to dine with him at the Admiral's. The proposal was a very pleasant one to William himself, who enjoyed the idea of travelling post with four horses, and such a good-humoured, agreeable friend; and, in likening it to going up with despatches, was saying at once everything in favour of its happiness and dignity which his imagination could suggest; and Fanny, from a different motive, was exceedingly pleased; for the original plan was that William should go up by the mail from Northampton the following night, which would not have allowed him an hour's rest before he must have got into a Portsmouth coach; and though this offer of Mr. Crawford's would rob her of many hours of his company, she was too happy in having William spared from the fatigue of such a journey, to think of anything else. Sir Thomas approved of it for another reason. His nephew's introduction to Admiral Crawford might be of service. The Admiral, he believed, had interest. Upon the whole, it was a very joyous note. Fanny's spirits lived on it half the morning, deriving some accession of pleasure from its writer being himself to go away.

  As for the ball, so near at hand, she had too many agitations and fears to have half the enjoyment in anticipation which she ought to have had, or must have been supposed to have by the many young ladies looking forward to the same event in situations more at ease, but under circumstances of less novelty, less interest, less peculiar gratification, than would be attributed to her. Miss Price, known only by name to half the people invited, was now to make her first appearance, and must be regarded as the queen of the evening. Who could be happier than Miss Price? But Miss Price had not been brought up to the trade of _coming_ _out_; and had she known in what light this ball was, in general, considered respecting her, it would very much have lessened her comfort by increasing the fears she already had of doing wrong and being looked at. To dance without much observation or any extraordinary fatigue, to have strength and partners for about half the evening, to dance a little with Edmund, and not a great deal with Mr. Crawford, to see William enjoy himself, and be able to keep away from her aunt Norris, was the height of her ambition, and seemed to comprehend her greatest possibility of happiness. As these were the best of her hopes, they could not always prevail; and in the course of a long morning, spent principally with her two aunts, she was often under the influence of much less sanguine views. William, determined to make this last day a day of thorough enjoyment, was out snipe-shooting; Edmund, she had too much reason to suppose, was at the Parsonage; and left alone to bear the worrying of Mrs. Norris, who was cross because the housekeeper would have her own way with the supper, and whom _she_ could not avoid though the housekeeper might, Fanny was worn down at last to think everything an evil belonging to the ball, and when sent off with a parting worry to dress, moved as languidly towards her own room, and felt as incapable of happiness as if she had been allowed no share in it.

  As she walked slowly upstairs she thought of yesterday; it had been about the same hour that she had returned from the Parsonage, and found Edmund in the East room. "Suppose I were to find him there again to-day!" said she to herself, in a fond indulgence of fancy.

  "Fanny," said a voice at that moment near her. Starting and looking up, she saw, across the lobby she had just reached, Edmund himself, standing at the head of a different staircase. He came towards her. "You look tired and fagged, Fanny. You have been walking too far."

  "No, I have not been out at all."

  "Then you have had fatigues within doors, which are worse. You had better have gone out."

  Fanny, not liking to complain, found it easiest to make no answer; and though he looked at her with his usual kindness, she believed he had soon ceased to think of her countenance. He did not appear in spirits: something unconnected with her was probably amiss. They proceeded upstairs together, their rooms being on the same floor above.

  "I come from Dr. Grant's," said Edmund presently. "You may guess my errand there, Fanny." And he looked so conscious, that Fanny could think but of one errand, which turned her too sick for speech. "I wished to engage Miss Crawford for the two first dances," was the explanation that followed, and brought Fanny to life again, enabling her, as she found she was expected to speak, to utter something like an inquiry as to the result.

  "Yes," he answered, "she is engaged to me; but" (with a smile that did not sit easy) "she says it is to be the last time that she ever will dance with me. She is not serious. I think, I hope, I am sure she is not serious; but I would rather not hear it. She never has danced with a clergyman, she says, and she never _will_. For my own sake, I could wish there had been no ball just at--I mean not this very week, this very day; to-morrow I leave home."

  Fanny struggled for speech, and said, "I am very sorry that anything has occurred to distress you. This ought to be a day of pleasure. My uncle meant it so."

  "Oh yes, yes! and it will be a day of pleasure. It will all end right. I am only vexed for a moment. In fact, it is not that I consider the ball as ill-timed; what does it signify? But, Fanny," stopping her, by taking her hand, and speaking low and seriously, "you know what all this means. You see how it is; and could tell me, perhaps better than I could tell you, how and why I am vexed. Let me talk to you a little. You are a kind, kind listener. I have been pained by her manner this morning, and cannot get the better of it. I know her disposition to be as sweet and faultless as your own, but the influence of her former companions makes her seem--gives to her conversation, to her professed opinions, sometimes a tinge of wrong. She does not _think_ evil, but she speaks it, speaks it in playfulness; and though I know it to be playfulness, it grieves me to the soul."

  "The effect of education," said Fanny gently.

  Edmund could not but agree to it. "Yes, that uncle and aunt! They have injured the finest mind; for sometimes, Fanny, I own to you, it does appear more than manner: it appears as if the mind itself was tainted."

  Fanny imagined this to be an appeal to her judgment, and therefore, after a moment's consideration, said, "If you only want me as a listener, cousin, I will be as useful as I can; but I am not qualified for an adviser. Do not ask advice of _me_. I am not competent."

  "You are right, Fanny, to protest against such an office, but you need not be afraid. It is a subject on which I should never ask advice; it is the sort of subject on which it had better never be asked; and few, I imagine, do ask it, but when they want to be influenced against their conscience. I only want to talk to you."

  "One thing more. Excuse the liberty; but take care _how_ you talk to me. Do not tell me anything now, which hereafter you may be sorry for. The time may come--"

  The colour rushed into her cheeks as she spoke.

  "Dearest Fanny!" cried Edmund, pressing her hand to his lips with almost as much warmth as if it had been Miss Crawford's, "you are all considerate thought! But it is unnecessary here. The time will never come. No such time as you allude to will ever come. I begin to think it most improbable: the chances grow less and less; and even if it should, there will be nothing to be remembered by either you or me that we need be afraid of, for I can never be ashamed of my own scruples; and if they are removed, it must be by changes that will only raise her character the more by the recollection of the faults she once had. You are the only being upon earth to whom I should say what I have said; but you have always known my opinion of her; you can bear me witness, Fanny, that I have never been blinded. How many a time have we talked over her little errors! You need not fear me; I have almost given up every serious idea of her; but I must be a blockhead indeed, if, whatever befell me, I could think of your kindness and sympathy without the sincerest gratitude."

  He had said enough to shake the experience of eighteen. He had said enough to give Fanny some happier feelings than she had lately known, and with a brighter look, she answered, "Yes, cousin, I am convinced that _you_ would be incapable of anything else, though perhaps some might not. I cannot be afraid of hearing anything you wish to say. Do not check yourself. Tell me whatever you like."

  They were now on the second floor, and the appearance of a housemaid prevented any farther conversation. For Fanny's present comfort it was concluded, perhaps, at the happiest moment: had he been able to talk another five minutes, there is no saying that he might not have talked away all Miss Crawford's faults and his own despondence. But as it was, they parted with looks on his side of grateful affection, and with some very precious sensations on hers. She had felt nothing like it for hours. Since the first joy from Mr. Crawford's note to William had worn away, she had been in a state absolutely the reverse; there had been no comfort around, no hope within her. Now everything was smiling. William's good fortune returned again upon her mind, and seemed of greater value than at first. The ball, too--such an evening of pleasure before her! It was now a real animation; and she began to dress for it with much of the happy flutter which belongs to a ball. All went well: she did not dislike her own looks; and when she came to the necklaces again, her good fortune seemed complete, for upon trial the one given her by Miss Crawford would by no means go through the ring of the cross. She had, to oblige Edmund, resolved to wear it; but it was too large for the purpose. His, therefore, must be worn; and having, with delightful feelings, joined the chain and the cross--those memorials of the two most beloved of her heart, those dearest tokens so formed for each other by everything real and imaginary--and put them round her neck, and seen and felt how full of William and Edmund they were, she was able, without an effort, to resolve on wearing Miss Crawford's necklace too. She acknowledged it to be right. Miss Crawford had a claim; and when it was no longer to encroach on, to interfere with the stronger claims, the truer kindness of another, she could do her justice even with pleasure to herself. The necklace really looked very well; and Fanny left her room at last, comfortably satisfied with herself and all about her.

  Her aunt Bertram had recollected her on this occasion with an unusual degree of wakefulness. It had really occurred to her, unprompted, that Fanny, preparing for a ball, might be glad of better help than the upper housemaid's, and when dressed herself, she actually sent her own maid to assist her; too late, of course, to be of any use. Mrs. Chapman had just reached the attic floor, when Miss Price came out of her room completely dressed, and only civilities were necessary; but Fanny felt her aunt's attention almost as much as Lady Bertram or Mrs. Chapman could do themselves.

　　范妮一回到家里，便急忙上楼，把她这意外的收获，这令人生疑的项链放进东屋专门保存她心爱的小玩意的盒子里。但是一开门，她大吃一惊，发现埃德蒙表哥坐在桌边写什么！这情景以前从未发生过，她不由得又惊又喜。
　　“范妮，”埃德蒙当即撂下笔离开座位，手里拿着什么迎了上来，一边说道，“请原谅我走进你的房间。我是来找你的，等了一会儿，以为你会回来，正在给你留言说明我的来意。你可以看到字条的开头，不过我可以直接告诉你我的来意。我是来求你接受这份小小的礼物—— 一条系威廉送你的十字架的链子。本来一个星期前就该交给你的，可我哥哥到伦敦比我预料的晚了几天，给耽搁了。我刚从北安普敦取来。我想你会喜欢这条链子的，范妮。我是根据你喜欢朴实来选择的。不管怎么说，我知道你会体谅我的用心的，把这条链子看做一位老朋友的爱的象征。实际上也是这种爱的象征。”
　　说着便匆匆往外走。范妮悲喜交加，百感交集，一时说不出话来。但是，在一种至高愿望的驱使下，她叫了起来：“噢！表哥，等一等，请等一等。”
　　埃德蒙转过身来。
　　“我不知道怎样谢你才好，”范妮非常激动地继续说道。“我说不出有多么感激你，这种感激之情真是无法表达。你这样替我着想，你的好心好意超出了——”
　　“如果你只是要说这些话，范妮——”埃德蒙笑了笑，又转身要走。
　　“不，不，不光是这些话。我想和你商量点事。”
　　这时，范妮几乎是无意识地解开了埃德蒙刚才放到她手里的小包，看到小包包得非常考究，只有珠宝商才能做得到。小包里放着一条没有花饰的金链，又朴素又精美。她一看见，又情不自禁地叫了出来：“噢！真美呀！这正是我求之不得的东西！是我唯一想要的装饰。跟我的十字架正相配。两样东西应该戴在一起，我一定把它们戴在一起。而且来得正是时候。噢！表哥，你不知道我有多么喜欢啊。”
　　“亲爱的范妮，你把这些东西看得太重了。我很高兴你能喜欢这条链子，很高兴明天正好用得上，可你这样谢我就大可不必了。请相信我，我最大的快乐就是给你带来快乐。是的，我绝对可以说，没有任何快乐这样彻底，这样纯真，丝毫没有一点缺欠。”
　　范妮听他如此表白真情，久久说不出话来。等了一会儿，埃德蒙问了一声，才把她那飞往天外的心灵唤了回来：“你想和我商量什么事？”
　　关于那条项链的事。她现在想马上把它退回丢，希望表哥能同意她这样做。她诉说了刚才去牧师住宅的原委，这时她的喜悦可以说是已经过去了，因为埃德蒙听后心弦为之一振，他对克劳福德小姐的行为感到不胜高兴，也为他们两人在行动上不谋而合而喜不自禁，范妮只得承认他心里有一种更大的快乐，尽管这种快乐有其缺憾的一面。埃德蒙许久没去注意表妹在讲什么，也没回答她的问题。他沉浸在充满柔情的幻想之中，只是偶尔说上几声赞扬的话。但等他醒悟过来以后，他坚决反对范妮退回项链。
　　“退回项链！不，亲爱的范妮，说什么也不能退。那会严重伤害她的自尊心。世界上最令人不快的事，就是你好心好意给朋友送了件东西，满以为朋友会很高兴，不想却给退了回来。她的举动本该得到快乐，为什么要扫她的兴呢？”
　　“如果当初就是给我的，”范妮说，“我就不会想要退给她。可这是她哥哥送她的礼物，现在我已经不需要了，让她收回去不是理所当然的事吗？”
　　“她不会想到你已经不需要了，至少不会想到你不想要。这礼物是她哥哥送她的也没关系。她不能因此就不能送给你，你也不能因此就不能接受。这条项链肯定比我送你的那条漂亮，更适合戴到舞场上去。”
　　“不，并不比你送的漂亮，就其本身来说绝不比你送的漂亮，而就用场来说，适合我的程度还不及你送我的这条的一半。你这条链子配威廉的十字架非常合适，那条项链根本无法和它相比。”
　　“戴一个晚上吧，范妮，就戴一个晚上，哪怕这意味着将就——我相信，你经过慎重考虑，是会将就一下的，而不会让一个这样关心你的人伤心。克劳福德小姐对你的关心并没有超过你应得的限度，我也决不认为会有超过的可能，但她的关心是始终如一的。我相信，你的天性不会让你这样去报答她，因为这样做会显得有点忘恩负义，虽说我知道你绝没有那个意思。明天晚上，按照原来的计划，戴上那条项链，至于这条链子，本来就不是为这次舞会订做的，你就把它收起来，留着在一般场合戴。这是我的建议。我不希望你们两人之间出现一点点隔阂。眼看着你们两人关系这么亲密，我感到万分高兴，你们两人的性格又非常相像，都为人忠厚大度，天生对人体察入微，虽然由于处境关系导致了一些细微的差异，但并不妨碍你们做知心朋友。我不希望你们两人之间出现一点点隔阂，”埃德蒙声音稍微低沉地重复了一句，“你们俩可是我在这世界上最亲爱的两个人。”
　　他话音未落便走开了，剩下范妮一个人尽力抑制自己的心情。她是他最亲爱的两个人之一——这当然是对她莫大的安慰。但是那另外一个人！那占第一位的！她以前从来没有听到他这样直言不讳过。尽管他表白的只是她早就察觉了的事实，但这仍然刺痛了她的心，因为这道出了他的心思想法。他的心思想法已经很明确了。他要娶克劳福德小姐。尽管这早已在意料之中，但听到后对她依然是个沉重打击。她茫然地一次又一次重复着她是他最亲爱的两个人之一，却不知道自己究竟在念叨什么。她要是认为克劳福德小姐真的配得上他，那就会——噢！那就会大不相同——她就会感到好受得多！可是他没有看清她，给她加了一些她并不具备的优点，而她的缺点却依然存在，但他已视而不见。她为他看错了人痛哭了一场，心情才平静下来。为了摆脱接踵而来的沮丧，她只好借助于拼命地为他的幸福祈祷。
　　她要尽量克服她对埃德蒙感情中那些过分的、接近自私的成分，她觉得自已也有义务这样做。她如果把这件事称做或看做自己的失落或受挫，那未免有些自作多情，她谦卑的天性不允许她这样做。她要是像克劳福德小姐那样期待于他，那岂不是发疯。她在任何情况下都不能对他抱非分之想——他顶多只能做自己的朋友。她怎么能这样想入非非，然后再自我责备、自我禁止呢？她的头脑中根本就不该冒出这种非分之想。她要力求保持头脑清醒，要能判断克劳福德小姐的为人，并且理智地、真诚地关心埃德蒙。
　　她有坚守节操的英勇气质，决心履行自己的义务，但也有年轻人生性中的诸多情感。因此，说来并不奇怪，在她难能可贵地下定决心自我克制之后，还一把抓起埃德蒙没有写完的那张字条，当做自天而降的珍宝，满怀柔情地读了起来：“我非常亲爱的范妮，你一定要赏光接受——”她把字条和链子一起锁了起来，并把字条看得比链子还要珍贵。这是她收到的他唯一的一件类似信的东西，她可能再也收不到第二件了，而这种从内容到形式都让她无比喜爱的东西，以后绝不可能再收到第二件了。最杰出的作家也从没写出过比这更令她珍惜的一句话——最痴情的传记作家也没找到一句比这让人更珍惜的话。一个女人甚至比传记作家爱得还要热烈。在她看来，且不论内容是什么，单看那笔迹就是一件圣物。埃德蒙的笔迹虽说极为平常，但世界上还没有第二个人能写出这样让她珍惜的字来！这行字尽管是匆匆忙忙写就的，但却写得完美无缺。开头那八个字“我非常亲爱的范妮”，安排得恰到好处，她真是百看不厌。
　　就这样，她将理智和弱点巧妙地掺杂起来，用以清理好自己的思想，安抚了自己的情感，然后按时走下楼，在伯特伦姨妈身旁做起日常的针线活，对她一如既往地恭敬不怠，看不出任何情绪不高的样子。
　　预定要给人带来希望和快乐的星期四来到了。对于范妮来说，这一天比执拗的、难以控制的日子开始得要吉利一些，因为早饭后不久，克劳福德先生给威廉送来一封非常客气的短简，说他第二天早晨要去伦敦几天，想找一个人做伴，如果威廉愿意提前半天动身，可以顺便乘他的马车。克劳福德先生打算在叔父傍晚吃正餐时赶到伦敦，请威廉和他一起在海军将军家里用餐。这个建议很合威廉的心意。一想到要和这样一位性情开朗、讨人喜欢的人，乘着四匹驿马拉的马车一路奔驰，他大为高兴。他觉得这等于坐专用马车回去，想象中真是又快乐又体面，于是便高高兴兴地接受了。范妮出于另一动机，也感到非常高兴。按原来的计划，威廉得在第二天夜里乘邮车从北安普敦动身，连一个小时都休息不上，就得坐进朴次茅斯的公共马车。克劳福德先生的建议虽然使威廉提前离开她许多小时，但却可以使他免除旅途劳顿，她为此感到高兴，也不去想别的了。托马斯爵士由于另外一个原因，也赞成这样做。他外甥将被介绍给克劳福德将军，这对他会有好处。他相信，这位将军很有势力。总的说来，这封信真令人高兴。范妮为这件事快活了半个上午，这其中的部分原因是那个写便笺的人也要走了。
　　至于即将举行的舞会，她由于过分激动，过分忧虑，期盼中的兴致远远没有达到应有的程度，或者说远远没有达到许多姑娘认为应有的程度。这些姑娘像她一样在盼望舞会，她们的处境比她来得轻松，不过在她们看来，这件事对范妮来说更为新鲜，更有兴趣，更值得特别高兴。普莱斯小姐的名字，应邀的人中只有一半人知道，现在她要第一次露面了，势必被宠为当晚的皇后。谁能比普莱斯小姐更快活呢？但是，普莱斯小姐从来没有受过这方面的教育，不知道如何初次进入社交界。她如果知道大家都认为这次舞会是为她而举行的，那她就会更加担心自己举止不当，更加当心受到众人注目，因而也就大大减少了她的快乐。跳舞的时候能不太引人注意，能跳得不太疲惫，能有精力跳它半个晚上，半个晚上次次有舞伴，能和埃德蒙跳上一阵，不要和克劳福德先生跳得太多，能看到威廉跳得开心，能避开诺里斯姨妈，这是她最大的愿望，似乎也是她能得到的最大快乐。既然这是她最大的希望，她也不可能总是抱着不放。在上午这段漫长的时间里，她主要是在两位姨妈身边度过的，常常受到一些不快活念头的影响。这是威廉在这里的最后一天，决计好好玩一玩，便外出打鹬去了。埃德蒙呢，她料想一定在牧师府上。就剩下她一人来忍受诺里斯太太的困扰。由于女管家非要按自己的意见安排晚饭，诺里斯太太在发脾气。女管家可以对她敬而远之，她范妮却避不开她。范妮最后被折磨得一点情绪都没有了，觉得跟舞会有关的样样事情都令人痛苦。最后，被打发去换衣服的时候，她感到十分苦恼，有气无力地向自己的房间走去。她觉得自己快活不起来，好像快活没有她的份似的。
　　她慢吞吞地走上楼，心里想起了昨天的情景。昨天大约就是这个时候，她从牧师府上回来，发现埃德蒙就在东屋。“但愿今天还能在那儿见到他！”她异想天开地自言自语道。
　　“范妮，”这时在离她不远的地方有一个声音说。她吃了一惊，抬头望去，只见在她刚刚到达的门厅的对面，在另一道楼梯的顶端，站着的正是埃德蒙。他向她走来。“你看上去非常疲惫，范妮。你走路走得太多了。”
　　“不，我根本就没出去。”
　　“那你就是在室内累着了，这更糟糕。还不如出去的好。”
　　范妮一向不爱叫苦，觉得最好还是不答话。尽管埃德蒙还像平常一样亲切地打量她，但她认为他已很快不再琢磨她的面容。他看样子情绪也不高，大概是一件与她无关的什么事没有办好。他们的房间在上边的同一层楼上，两人一起走上楼去。
　　“我是从格兰特博士家来的，”埃德蒙没等多久便说。“你会猜到我去那儿做什么，范妮。”他看上去很难为情，范妮觉得他去那里只能是为一件事，因此心里很不是滋味，一时说不出话来。“我想事先约定，和克劳福德小姐跳头两曲舞，”他接着解释说，范妮一听又来了劲儿，她发现埃德蒙在等她说话，便说了一句什么话，像是打听他约请克劳福德小姐跳舞的结果。
　　“是的，”埃德蒙答道，“她答应和我跳。不过（勉强地一笑），她说她这是最后一次和我跳舞。她不是当真说的。我想，我希望，我断定她不是当真说的。不过，我不愿意听到这样的话。她说她以前从没和牧师跳过舞，以后也决不会和牧师跳舞。为我自己着想，我但愿不要举行舞会——我的意思是不要在这个星期，不要在今天举行舞会——我明天就要离开家。”
　　范妮强打精神说道：“你遇到不称心的事情，我感到很遗憾。今天应该是个快乐的日子。这是姨父的意思。”
　　“噢！是的，是的，今天会过得很快活的。最后会一切如意的。我只是一时烦恼。其实，我并不认为舞会安排得不是时候。这到底是什么意思呢？不过，范妮，”他一把拉住她的手，低声严肃地说道：“你知道这一切是什么意思。你看得清楚，能告诉我，我为什么烦恼，也许比我说得更清楚。让我给你稍微讲一讲。你心地善良，能耐心地听。她今天早晨的表现伤了我的心，我怎么也开心不起来。我知道她的性子像你的一样温柔，一样完美，但是由于受到她以往接触的那些人的影响，使她显得有时候有欠妥当，说话也好，发表意见也好，都有欠妥的时候。她心里并没有坏念头，但她嘴上却要说，一开玩笑就说出来。虽然我知道她是说着玩的，但却感到非常伤心。”
　　“是过去所受教育的影响，”范妮柔和地说。
　　埃德蒙不得不表示同意。“是的，有那么一位婶婶，那么一位叔叔！他们伤害了一颗最美好的心灵啊！范妮，实话对你说，有时候还不只是谈吐问题，似乎心灵本身也受到了污染。”
　　范妮猜想这是要她发表意见，于是略加思索后说道：“表哥，如果你只是要我听一听，我会尽量满足你的要求。可是，让我出主意我就不够格了。不要叫我出主意。我胜任不了。”
　　“范妮，你不肯帮这个忙是对的，不过你用不着担心。在这样的问题上，我永远不会征求别人的意见。在这样的问题上，最好也不要去征求别人的意见。我想实际上很少有人征求别人的意见，要征求也只是想接受一些违背自己良心的影响。我只是想跟你谈一谈。”
　　“还有一点。请恕我直言——对我说话要慎重。不要对我说任何你会后悔不该说的话。你早晚会——”
　　范妮说着脸红了起来。
　　“最亲爱的范妮！”埃德蒙大声嚷道，一边把她的手摁在自己的嘴唇上，那个热烈劲儿，几乎像是抓着克劳福德小姐的手。“你处处都在替别人着想！可在这件事上没有必要。那一天永远不会到来。你所说的那一天是不会到来的。我开始感到这是决不可能的。可能性越来越小。即使真有这个可能，不论是你还是我，对我们今天谈的话也没有什么可后悔的，因为我永远不会对自己的顾虑感到羞愧。我只有看到这样的变化，一回想起她过去的缺陷，能越发感受到她人品的可贵，才会打消那些顾虑。世界上只有你一个人会听到我刚才说的这番话。不过你一向知道我对她的看法。你可以为我作证，范妮，我从来没有陷入盲目。我们有多少次在一起谈论她的小毛病啊！你用不着怕我。我几乎已经完全不再认真考虑她了。不管出现什么情况，我一想到你对我的好意和盛情，而能不感到由衷的感激，那我一定是个十足的傻瓜。”
　　他这番话足以震撼一个只有十八年阅历的姑娘，让范妮心里感到了近来不曾有过的快慰，只见她容光焕发地答道：“是的，表哥，我相信你一定会是这样的，尽管有人可能不是这样的。你说什么我都不会怕。你就说下去吧。想说什么就说吧。”
　　他们眼下在三楼，由于来了个女仆，他们没有再谈下去。就范妮此时的快慰而言，这次谈话可以说是在最恰到好处的时刻中止的。如果让埃德蒙再说上五分钟，说不定他会把克劳福德小姐的缺点和他自己的沮丧全都说没了。不过，尽管没有再说下去，两人分手的时候，男的面带感激，含情脉脉，女的眼里也流露出一种弥足珍贵的情感。几个小时以来，她心里就没有这样痛快过。自从克劳福德先生给威廉的信最初带给她的欢欣逐渐消退后，她一直处于完全相反的心态：从周围得不到安慰，自己心里又没有什么希望。现在，一切都喜气洋洋的。威廉的好运又浮现在她的脑海中，似乎比当初更加可喜可贺。还有舞会——一个多么快乐的夜晚在等待着她呀！现在，这舞会真使她感到兴奋啊！她怀着姑娘参加舞会前的那种激动、喜悦之情，开始打扮起来。一切都很如愿——她觉得自己并不难看。当她要戴项链的时候，她的好运似乎达到了顶峰，因为经过试验，克劳福德小姐送她的那条项链怎么也穿不过十字架上的小环。原来，看在埃德蒙的面上，她已决定戴上这条项链，不想它太大了，穿不上去。因此，她必须戴埃德蒙送的那条。她兴高采烈地把链子和十字架——她最亲爱的两个人送她的纪念品，从实物到意义如此相配的两个最珍贵的信物——穿在了一起，戴到了脖子上。她看得出来，也感受得到，这两件礼物充分展示了她与威廉、埃德蒙之间的深情厚意，于是便毫不勉强地决定把克劳福德小姐的项链一起戴上。她认为应该这样做。她不能拂却了克劳福德小姐的情谊。当她这位朋友的情谊不再干扰，不再妨害另一个人更深厚的情谊、更真挚的感情的时候，她倒能公正地看待她，自己也感到快乐。这条项链的确好看。范妮最后走出房时，心里颇为舒畅，对自己满意，也对周围的一切满意。
　　这时，伯特伦姨妈已经异常清醒了，不由得想起了范妮。她也没经人提醒，就想到范妮在为舞会做准备，光靠女仆帮忙恐怕还不够，她穿戴打扮好以后，就吩咐自己的女佣去帮助她，当然为时已晚，也帮不上什么忙。查普曼太太刚来到阁楼上，普莱斯小姐就从房里走出来，已经完全穿戴好了，彼此只需寒暄一番。不过，范妮几乎像伯特伦夫人或查普曼太太本人那样，能感受到姨妈对她的关心。　

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一二三四五六七~~~

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Chapter Twenty-eight

  Her uncle and both her aunts were in the drawing-room when Fanny went down. To the former she was an interesting object, and he saw with pleasure the general elegance of her appearance, and her being in remarkably good looks. The neatness and propriety of her dress was all that he would allow himself to commend in her presence, but upon her leaving the room again soon afterwards, he spoke of her beauty with very decided praise.

  "Yes," said Lady Bertram, "she looks very well. I sent Chapman to her."

  "Look well! Oh, yes!" cried Mrs. Norris, "she has good reason to look well with all her advantages: brought up in this family as she has been, with all the benefit of her cousins' manners before her. Only think, my dear Sir Thomas, what extraordinary advantages you and I have been the means of giving her. The very gown you have been taking notice of is your own generous present to her when dear Mrs. Rushworth married. What would she have been if we had not taken her by the hand?"

  Sir Thomas said no more; but when they sat down to table the eyes of the two young men assured him that the subject might be gently touched again, when the ladies withdrew, with more success. Fanny saw that she was approved; and the consciousness of looking well made her look still better. From a variety of causes she was happy, and she was soon made still happier; for in following her aunts out of the room, Edmund, who was holding open the door, said, as she passed him, "You must dance with me, Fanny; you must keep two dances for me; any two that you like, except the first." She had nothing more to wish for. She had hardly ever been in a state so nearly approaching high spirits in her life. Her cousins' former gaiety on the day of a ball was no longer surprising to her; she felt it to be indeed very charming, and was actually practising her steps about the drawing-room as long as she could be safe from the notice of her aunt Norris, who was entirely taken up at first in fresh arranging and injuring the noble fire which the butler had prepared.

  Half an hour followed that would have been at least languid under any other circumstances, but Fanny's happiness still prevailed. It was but to think of her conversation with Edmund, and what was the restlessness of Mrs. Norris? What were the yawns of Lady Bertram?

  The gentlemen joined them; and soon after began the sweet expectation of a carriage, when a general spirit of ease and enjoyment seemed diffused, and they all stood about and talked and laughed, and every moment had its pleasure and its hope. Fanny felt that there must be a struggle in Edmund's cheerfulness, but it was delightful to see the effort so successfully made.

  When the carriages were really heard, when the guests began really to assemble, her own gaiety of heart was much subdued: the sight of so many strangers threw her back into herself; and besides the gravity and formality of the first great circle, which the manners of neither Sir Thomas nor Lady Bertram were of a kind to do away, she found herself occasionally called on to endure something worse. She was introduced here and there by her uncle, and forced to be spoken to, and to curtsey, and speak again. This was a hard duty, and she was never summoned to it without looking at William, as he walked about at his ease in the background of the scene, and longing to be with him.

  The entrance of the Grants and Crawfords was a favourable epoch. The stiffness of the meeting soon gave way before their popular manners and more diffused intimacies: little groups were formed, and everybody grew comfortable. Fanny felt the advantage; and, drawing back from the toils of civility, would have been again most happy, could she have kept her eyes from wandering between Edmund and Mary Crawford. _She_ looked all loveliness--and what might not be the end of it? Her own musings were brought to an end on perceiving Mr. Crawford before her, and her thoughts were put into another channel by his engaging her almost instantly for the first two dances. Her happiness on this occasion was very much _a_ _la_ _mortal_, finely chequered. To be secure of a partner at first was a most essential good-- for the moment of beginning was now growing seriously near; and she so little understood her own claims as to think that if Mr. Crawford had not asked her, she must have been the last to be sought after, and should have received a partner only through a series of inquiry, and bustle, and interference, which would have been terrible; but at the same time there was a pointedness in his manner of asking her which she did not like, and she saw his eye glancing for a moment at her necklace, with a smile--she thought there was a smile--which made her blush and feel wretched. And though there was no second glance to disturb her, though his object seemed then to be only quietly agreeable, she could not get the better of her embarrassment, heightened as it was by the idea of his perceiving it, and had no composure till he turned away to some one else. Then she could gradually rise up to the genuine satisfaction of having a partner, a voluntary partner, secured against the dancing began.

  When the company were moving into the ballroom, she found herself for the first time near Miss Crawford, whose eyes and smiles were immediately and more unequivocally directed as her brother's had been, and who was beginning to speak on the subject, when Fanny, anxious to get the story over, hastened to give the explanation of the second necklace: the real chain. Miss Crawford listened; and all her intended compliments and insinuations to Fanny were forgotten: she felt only one thing; and her eyes, bright as they had been before, shewing they could yet be brighter, she exclaimed with eager pleasure, "Did he? Did Edmund? That was like himself. No other man would have thought of it. I honour him beyond expression." And she looked around as if longing to tell him so. He was not near, he was attending a party of ladies out of the room; and Mrs. Grant coming up to the two girls, and taking an arm of each, they followed with the rest.

  Fanny's heart sunk, but there was no leisure for thinking long even of Miss Crawford's feelings. They were in the ballroom, the violins were playing, and her mind was in a flutter that forbade its fixing on anything serious. She must watch the general arrangements, and see how everything was done.

  In a few minutes Sir Thomas came to her, and asked if she were engaged; and the "Yes, sir; to Mr. Crawford," was exactly what he had intended to hear. Mr. Crawford was not far off; Sir Thomas brought him to her, saying something which discovered to Fanny, that _she_ was to lead the way and open the ball; an idea that had never occurred to her before. Whenever she had thought of the minutiae of the evening, it had been as a matter of course that Edmund would begin with Miss Crawford; and the impression was so strong, that though _her_ _uncle_ spoke the contrary, she could not help an exclamation of surprise, a hint of her unfitness, an entreaty even to be excused. To be urging her opinion against Sir Thomas's was a proof of the extremity of the case; but such was her horror at the first suggestion, that she could actually look him in the face and say that she hoped it might be settled otherwise; in vain, however: Sir Thomas smiled, tried to encourage her, and then looked too serious, and said too decidedly, "It must be so, my dear," for her to hazard another word; and she found herself the next moment conducted by Mr. Crawford to the top of the room, and standing there to be joined by the rest of the dancers, couple after couple, as they were formed.

  She could hardly believe it. To be placed above so many elegant young women! The distinction was too great. It was treating her like her cousins! And her thoughts flew to those absent cousins with most unfeigned and truly tender regret, that they were not at home to take their own place in the room, and have their share of a pleasure which would have been so very delightful to them. So often as she had heard them wish for a ball at home as the greatest of all felicities! And to have them away when it was given--and for _her_ to be opening the ball-- and with Mr. Crawford too! She hoped they would not envy her that distinction _now_; but when she looked back to the state of things in the autumn, to what they had all been to each other when once dancing in that house before, the present arrangement was almost more than she could understand herself.

  The ball began. It was rather honour than happiness to Fanny, for the first dance at least: her partner was in excellent spirits, and tried to impart them to her; but she was a great deal too much frightened to have any enjoyment till she could suppose herself no longer looked at. Young, pretty, and gentle, however, she had no awkwardnesses that were not as good as graces, and there were few persons present that were not disposed to praise her. She was attractive, she was modest, she was Sir Thomas's niece, and she was soon said to be admired by Mr. Crawford. It was enough to give her general favour. Sir Thomas himself was watching her progress down the dance with much complacency; he was proud of his niece; and without attributing all her personal beauty, as Mrs. Norris seemed to do, to her transplantation to Mansfield, he was pleased with himself for having supplied everything else: education and manners she owed to him.

  Miss Crawford saw much of Sir Thomas's thoughts as he stood, and having, in spite of all his wrongs towards her, a general prevailing desire of recommending herself to him, took an opportunity of stepping aside to say something agreeable of Fanny. Her praise was warm, and he received it as she could wish, joining in it as far as discretion, and politeness, and slowness of speech would allow, and certainly appearing to greater advantage on the subject than his lady did soon afterwards, when Mary, perceiving her on a sofa very near, turned round before she began to dance, to compliment her on Miss Price's looks.

  "Yes, she does look very well," was Lady Bertram's placid reply. "Chapman helped her to dress. I sent Chapman to her." Not but that she was really pleased to have Fanny admired; but she was so much more struck with her own kindness in sending Chapman to her, that she could not get it out of her head.

  Miss Crawford knew Mrs. Norris too well to think of gratifying _her_ by commendation of Fanny; to her, it was as the occasion offered--"Ah! ma'am, how much we want dear Mrs. Rushworth and Julia to-night!" and Mrs. Norris paid her with as many smiles and courteous words as she had time for, amid so much occupation as she found for herself in making up card-tables, giving hints to Sir Thomas, and trying to move all the chaperons to a better part of the room.

  Miss Crawford blundered most towards Fanny herself in her intentions to please. She meant to be giving her little heart a happy flutter, and filling her with sensations of delightful self-consequence; and, misinterpreting Fanny's blushes, still thought she must be doing so when she went to her after the two first dances, and said, with a significant look, "Perhaps _you_ can tell me why my brother goes to town to-morrow? He says he has business there, but will not tell me what. The first time he ever denied me his confidence! But this is what we all come to. All are supplanted sooner or later. Now, I must apply to you for information. Pray, what is Henry going for?"

  Fanny protested her ignorance as steadily as her embarrassment allowed.

  "Well, then," replied Miss Crawford, laughing, "I must suppose it to be purely for the pleasure of conveying your brother, and of talking of you by the way."

  Fanny was confused, but it was the confusion of discontent; while Miss Crawford wondered she did not smile, and thought her over-anxious, or thought her odd, or thought her anything rather than insensible of pleasure in Henry's attentions. Fanny had a good deal of enjoyment in the course of the evening; but Henry's attentions had very little to do with it. She would much rather _not_ have been asked by him again so very soon, and she wished she had not been obliged to suspect that his previous inquiries of Mrs. Norris, about the supper hour, were all for the sake of securing her at that part of the evening. But it was not to be avoided: he made her feel that she was the object of all; though she could not say that it was unpleasantly done, that there was indelicacy or ostentation in his manner; and sometimes, when he talked of William, he was really not unagreeable, and shewed even a warmth of heart which did him credit. But still his attentions made no part of her satisfaction. She was happy whenever she looked at William, and saw how perfectly he was enjoying himself, in every five minutes that she could walk about with him and hear his account of his partners; she was happy in knowing herself admired; and she was happy in having the two dances with Edmund still to look forward to, during the greatest part of the evening, her hand being so eagerly sought after that her indefinite engagement with _him_ was in continual perspective. She was happy even when they did take place; but not from any flow of spirits on his side, or any such expressions of tender gallantry as had blessed the morning. 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. A weariness, arising probably, in great measure, from the same feelings which he had acknowledged in the morning, was peculiarly to be respected, and they went down their two dances together with such sober tranquillity as might satisfy any looker-on that Sir Thomas had been bringing up no wife for his younger son. The evening had afforded Edmund little pleasure. Miss Crawford had been in gay spirits when they first danced together, but it was not her gaiety that could do him good: it rather sank than raised his comfort; and afterwards, for he found himself still impelled to seek her again, she had absolutely pained him by her manner of speaking of the profession to which he was now on the point of belonging. 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.

  When her two dances with him were over, her inclination and strength for more were pretty well at an end; and Sir Thomas, having seen her walk rather than dance down the shortening set, breathless, and with her hand at her side, gave his orders for her sitting down entirely. From that time Mr. Crawford sat down likewise.

  "Poor Fanny!" cried William, coming for a moment to visit her, and working away his partner's fan as if for life, "how soon she is knocked up! Why, the sport is but just begun. I hope we shall keep it up these two hours. How can you be tired so soon?"

  "So soon! my good friend," said Sir Thomas, producing his watch with all necessary caution; "it is three o'clock, and your sister is not used to these sort of hours."

  "Well, then, Fanny, you shall not get up to-morrow before I go. Sleep as long as you can, and never mind me."

  "Oh! William."

  "What! Did she think of being up before you set off?"

  "Oh! yes, sir," cried Fanny, rising eagerly from her seat to be nearer her uncle; "I must get up and breakfast with him. It will be the last time, you know; the last morning."

  "You had better not. He is to have breakfasted and be gone by half-past nine. Mr. Crawford, I think you call for him at half-past nine?"

  Fanny was too urgent, however, and had too many tears in her eyes for denial; and it ended in a gracious "Well, well!" which was permission.

  "Yes, half-past nine," said Crawford to William as the latter was leaving them, "and I shall be punctual, for there will be no kind sister to get up for _me_." And in a lower tone to Fanny, "I shall have only a desolate house to hurry from. Your brother will find my ideas of time and his own very different to-morrow."

  After a short consideration, Sir Thomas asked Crawford to join the early breakfast party in that house instead of eating alone: he should himself be of it; and the readiness with which his invitation was accepted convinced him that the suspicions whence, he must confess to himself, this very ball had in great measure sprung, were well founded. Mr. Crawford was in love with Fanny. He had a pleasing anticipation of what would be. His niece, meanwhile, did not thank him for what he had just done. She had hoped to have William all to herself the last morning. It would have been an unspeakable indulgence. But though her wishes were overthrown, there was no spirit of murmuring within her. On the contrary, she was so totally unused to have her pleasure consulted, or to have anything take place at all in the way she could desire, that she was more disposed to wonder and rejoice in having carried her point so far, than to repine at the counteraction which followed.

  Shortly afterward, Sir Thomas was again interfering a little with her inclination, by advising her to go immediately to bed. "Advise" was his word, but it was the advice of absolute power, and she had only to rise, and, with Mr. Crawford's very cordial adieus, pass quietly away; stopping at the entrance-door, like the Lady of Branxholm Hall, "one moment and no more," to view the happy scene, and take a last look at the five or six determined couple who were still hard at work; and then, creeping slowly up the principal staircase, pursued by the ceaseless country-dance, feverish with hopes and fears, soup and negus, sore-footed and fatigued, restless and agitated, yet feeling, in spite of everything, that a ball was indeed delightful.

  In thus sending her away, Sir Thomas perhaps might not be thinking merely of her health. It might occur to him that Mr. Crawford had been sitting by her long enough, or he might mean to recommend her as a wife by shewing her persuadableness.

　　范妮走下楼时，见姨父和两位姨妈都在客厅里。她成了姨父关注的对象，托马斯爵士见她体态优雅，容貌出众，心里颇为高兴。当着她的面，他只能夸奖她衣着利落得体，但等她过了不久一出去，他便毫不含糊地夸奖她的美貌。
　　“是呀，”伯特伦夫人说，“她是很好看。是我打发查普曼太太去帮她的。”
　　“好看！噢，是的，”诺里斯太太嚷道。“她当然应该好看，瞧她条件有多好：这个家庭把她抚养成人，有两个表姐的言谈举止供她学习。你想一想，亲爱的托马斯爵士，你和我给了她多大的好处。你刚才看到的那件长裙，就是你在亲爱的拉什沃思太太结婚时慷慨送给她的礼物。要不是我们把她要来，她会是个什么样子啊？”
　　托马斯爵士没再吭声。但是，等他们围着桌子坐定后，他从两个年轻人的眼神中看出，一旦女士们离席，他们可以温婉而顺利地再谈这个问题。范妮看得出自己受到众人的赏识，加之意识到自己好看，面容也就越发亮丽。她有多种原因感到高兴，而且马上会变得更加高兴。她跟随两位姨妈走出客厅，埃德蒙给她们打开了门，她从他身边走过时，对她说道：“范妮，你一定要跟我跳舞。你一定要为我保留两曲舞，除了头两曲外，哪两曲都行。”范妮心满意足，别无所求了。她长了这么大，几乎从来没有这样兴高采烈过。两位表姐以往参加舞会时那样欢天喜地，她已不再感到惊奇了。她觉得这的确令人陶醉，便趁诺里斯姨妈在聚精会神调理、压低男管家生起的旺旺的炉火，因而注意不到她的时候，竟然在客厅里练起舞步来。
　　又过了半个小时，在别的情况下，至少会让人感到无精打采，可范妮依然兴致勃勃。她只要回味她和埃德蒙的谈话就行了。诺里斯太太坐立不安算什么呢？伯特伦夫人呵欠连连有什么关系呢？
　　男士们也进来了。过了不久，大家都开始盼望能听到马车声。这时，屋里似乎弥漫着一种悠闲欢快的气氛，众人四处站着，又说又笑，时时刻刻都充溢着快乐和希望。范妮觉得埃德蒙肯定有点强颜欢笑，不过见他掩饰得这么不露痕迹，倒也感到宽慰。
　　等真的听到马车声，客人真的开始聚集的时候，她满心的欢快给压抑下来了。看到这么多陌生人，她又故态复萌了。先到的一大批人个个板着面孔，显得十分拘谨，不管托马斯爵士还是伯特伦夫人，他们的言谈举止都无助于消除这种气氛。除此之外，范妮不时还得容忍更糟糕的事情。姨父把她时而介绍给这个人，时而介绍给那个人，她不得不听人唠叨，给人屈膝行礼，还要跟人说话。这是个苦差事，每次叫她履行这份职责的时候，她总要瞧一瞧在后面悠然漫步的威廉，盼着能和他在一起。
　　格兰特夫妇和克劳福德兄妹的到来是一个重要的转机。他们那讨人喜欢的举止，待众人又那样亲密，很快驱散了场上的拘谨气氛。大家三三两两地组合起来，个个都感到挺自在。范妮深受其惠。她从没完没了的礼仪应酬中解脱出来，若不是因为目光情不自禁地在埃德蒙和玛丽·克劳福德之间流盼，她还真会觉得万分快乐。克劳福德小姐俏丽动人极了——凭此还有什么达不到的目标呢？克劳福德先生的出现打断了她自己的思绪，他当即约她跳头两曲舞，把她的心思引入了另一条轨道。这时候，她的心情可以说是有喜有忧，喜忧参半。一开始就能得到一个舞伴，这可是件大好事——因为舞会眼看就要开始，而她对自己又缺乏信心，觉得若不是克劳福德先生事先约请她，肯定会是姑娘们都被请完了也轮不到她，只有经过一连串的问讯、奔忙和他人干预才能找到个舞伴，那情景实在太可怕了。不过，克劳福德先生约她跳舞时态度有点欠含蓄，这又让她不悦。她看到他两眼含笑 ——她觉得他在笑——瞥了一下她的项链，她不禁脸红起来，感到很狼狈。虽然他没有再瞥第二眼乱她方寸，虽然他当时的用意似乎是不声不响地讨好她，但她始终打消不了局促不安的感觉，而一想到他注意到了自己的不安，心里便越发不安，直到他走开去找别人谈话，她才定下心来。这时她才逐渐感受到，在舞会开始前就得到一个舞伴，一个自愿找上门的舞伴，真令人高兴。
　　众人步入舞厅的时候，她第一次和克劳福德小姐相遇。她像她哥哥一样，一下子毫不含糊地把目光和笑脸投向她的项链，并对之议论了起来。范妮恨不得马上结束这个话题，便急忙说明了第二条项链——实际上足条链子的来历。克劳福德小姐仔细听着，她原先准备好的对范妮加以恭维和影射的话全都忘记了，现在心里只有一个念头。她那原来已经够明亮的眼睛变得更明亮了，便急忙乐滋滋地嚷道：“真的吗？真是埃德蒙送的吗？这像是他做的事。别人想不到这么做。我对他佩服得不得了。”她环顾四周，仿佛想把这话说给埃德蒙听。埃德蒙不在附近，他在舞厅外陪伴一群太太小姐。格兰特太太来到这两个姑娘跟前，一手拉着一个，跟着其他人一块往前走。
　　范妮的心直往下沉，不过她没有闲暇去琢磨克劳福德小姐的心情。她们待在舞厅里，里面拉着手提琴，她的心绪跟着颤动，难以集中在任何严肃的问题上。她必须注意总的安排，留心每件事如何进行。
　　过了一会，托马斯爵士来到她跟前，问她是否已约好舞伴。她回答说：“约好了，姨父，跟克劳福德先生。”这正合托马斯爵士的心愿。克劳福德先生就在不远的地方，托马斯爵士把他领到她面前，交代了两句，范妮听那意思，是让她领舞。这是她从未想过的事情。在此之前，她一想到晚上的具体安排，总觉得理所当然应该由埃德蒙和克劳福德小姐领舞。这是个坚定不移的印象，虽然姨父发话要她领舞，她不禁发出惊叫，表示她不合适，甚至恳求饶了她。居然敢违抗托马斯爵士的意志，足见这事让她有多为难。不过，姨父刚提出来的时候，她感到大为骇然，直瞪瞪地盯着他的面孔，请他另做安排。然而，说也没有用。托马斯爵士笑了笑，力图鼓励她，然后板起脸来，斩钉截铁地说：“必须如此，亲爱的。”范妮没敢再吭声。转眼间，克劳福德先生把她领到舞厅上首，站在那里，等待众人结成舞伴，跟着他们起舞。
　　她简直不敢相信。她居然被安排在这么多漂亮小姐之上！这个荣誉太高了。这是拿她跟她的表姐们一样看待呀！于是，她的思绪飞向了两位身在外地的表姐。她们不在家中，不能占据她们在舞厅中应有的位置，不能共享会使她们十分开心的乐趣，她情真意切地为她们感到遗憾。她以前常听她们说，她们盼望能在家里举办个舞会，这将是最大的快乐！而真到开舞会的时候，她们却离家在外——偏要由她来开舞——而且还是跟克劳福德先生一起开舞！她希望她们不要嫉妒她现在的这份荣誉。不过，回想起秋季的情况，回想起有一次在这座房子里跳舞时她们彼此之间的关系，目前这种安排简直让她无法理解。
　　舞会开始了。对范妮来说，她感到的与其说是快乐，不如说是荣耀，至少跳第一曲舞时如此。她的舞伴兴高采烈，并且尽力感染她，可她过于恐慌，没有心思领受这番快乐，直至她料想不再有人注视她，情况才有所好转。不过，她由于年轻、漂亮、文雅，即使在局促不安的情况下，也显得颇为优雅，在场的人很少有不肯赞赏她的。她妩媚动人、举止端庄，身为托马斯爵士的外甥女，不久又听说还是克劳福德先生爱慕的对象。这一切足以使她赢得众人的欢心。托马斯爵士喜不自禁地望着她翩翩起舞。他为外甥女感到骄傲，虽说他没有像诺里斯太太那样，把她的美貌完全归功于自己把她接到曼斯菲尔德，但却为自己给她提供的一切感到欣慰：他使她受到了教育，养成了娴雅的举止。
　　克劳福德小姐看出了托马斯爵士的心思，尽管他让自己受了不少委屈，但她很想讨他欢喜，便找了个机会走到他跟前，将范妮美言了一番。她热烈地赞扬范妮，托马斯爵士像她希望的那样欣然接受，并在谨慎、礼貌和缓言慢语允许的范围内，跟着一起夸奖。在这个问题上，他当然比他的夫人来得热情。过了不久，玛丽看到伯特伦夫人就坐在附近的沙发上，趁跳舞还没有开始，便走了过去；向她夸奖普莱斯小姐好看，以讨她欢心。
　　“是的，她的确很好看，”伯特伦夫人平静地答道。“查普曼太太帮她打扮的。是我打发查普曼太太去帮她的。”她并非真为范妮受人赞扬而感到高兴，她为自己打发查普曼太太去帮助她而沾沾自喜，总是念念不忘自己的这份恩典。
　　克劳福德小姐非常了解诺里斯太太，因而不敢向她夸奖范妮。她见机行事，对她说：“啊！太太，今天晚上我们多么需要拉什沃思太太和朱莉娅呀！”诺里斯太太尽管给自己揽了好多差事，又是组织打牌，又是一次次提醒托马斯爵士，还要把小姐们的年长女伴领到舞厅合适的角落，但是听了克劳福德小姐的感叹之后，还能忙里偷闲，对她频频微笑，客气话说个没完。
　　克劳福德小姐想讨好范妮，却犯了个最大的错误。头两曲舞过后，她便向她走去，想挑逗一下她那颗小小的心灵，使之泛起一股喜不自禁的高傲之情。她看到范妮脸红了，自以为得计，带着意味深长的神情说道：“也许你可以告诉我我哥哥明天为什么要去伦敦吧。他说他去那里办点事，可是不肯告诉我究竟是什么事。他这是第一次向我保守秘密呀！不过我们人人都有这一天的。每个人迟早都要被人取代的。现在，我要向你打听消息了。请告诉我，亨利是去干什么？”
　　范妮感到十分尴尬，断然声明自己一无所知。
　　“那好吧，”克劳福德小姐大笑着说，“我想一定是为了专程送你哥哥，顺便也谈论谈论你。”
　　范妮变得慌乱起来，这是不满引起的慌乱。这时，克劳福德小姐只是纳闷她为什么面无笑容，以为她过于牵心，以为她性情古怪，以为她有这样那样的问题，唯独没有想到亨利的殷勤备至并没引起她的兴趣。这天晚上范妮感到了无尽的快乐，但这跟亨利的大献殷勤并没有多大关系。他请过她之后马上又请一次，她还真不喜欢他这样做。她也不想非要起这样的疑心：他先前向诺里斯太太打听晚饭的时间，也许是为了在那个时候把她抢到手。可是这又回避不了，他使她觉得她为众人所瞩目。不过，她又不能说这事做得令人不快，他的态度既不粗俗，又不虚夸——有时候，谈起威廉来，还真不令人讨厌，甚至表现出一副热心肠，倒也难能可贵。但是，他的百般殷勤仍然不能给她带来快乐。每逢那五分钟的间歇工夫，她可以和威廉一块漫步，听他谈论他的舞伴，两眼只要望着他，见他那样兴高采烈，她也感到高兴。她知道大家赞赏她，因而也感到高兴。她同样感到高兴的是，她还期待和埃德蒙跳那两曲舞。在舞会的大部分时间里，人人都急欲和她跳舞，埃德蒙和她预约的没定时间的那两曲舞不得不一再推迟。后来轮到他们跳的时候，她还是很高兴，但并不是因为他兴致高的缘故，也不是因为他又流露出早晨对她的温情脉脉。他的精神已经疲惫了，她感到高兴的是，他把她当做朋友，可以在她这里得到安逸。“我已经应酬得疲惫不堪了，”埃德蒙说。“我一个晚上都在不停地说话，而且是没话找话说。可是和你在一起，范妮，我就可以得到安宁。你不会要我跟你说话。让我们享受一下默默无语的乐趣。”范妮连表示同意的话都想免掉不说。埃德蒙的厌倦情绪，在很大程度上，可能是由于早晨他承认的那些想法引起的，需要引起她的特别关注。他们两人跳那两曲舞的时候，显得又持重又平静，旁观者看了，不会认为托马斯爵士收养这个姑娘是要给他二儿子做媳妇。
　　这个晚上没给埃德蒙带来多少快乐。克劳福德小姐和他跳头两曲舞的时候，倒是欢欢喜喜的，但是她的欢喜对他并无补益，不仅没有给他增加喜悦，反而给他增添了苦恼。后来，他又抑制不住去找她的时候，她议论起他即将从事的职业，那言辞和口气让他伤透了心。他们谈论过——也沉默过——一个进行辩解——一个加以嘲讽——最后是不欢而散。范妮难免不对他们有所观察，见到的情景使她颇为满意。眼见埃德蒙痛苦的时候感到高兴，无疑是残忍的。然而，由于明知他吃了苦头，心里难免会有点高兴。
　　她和埃德蒙的两曲舞跳过之后，她既没心思也没气力再跳下去。托马斯爵士看到在那愈来愈短的舞队中，她垂着手，气喘吁吁，不是在跳而是在走，便命令她坐下好好休息。从这时起，克劳福德先生也坐了下来。
　　“可怜的范妮！”威廉本来在跟舞伴没命地跳舞，这时走过来看一看她，嚷道，“她这么快就累垮了！嗨，才刚刚跳上劲来。我希望我们能坚持不懈地跳上两个钟头。你怎么这么快就累了？”
　　“这么快！我的好朋友，”托马斯爵士一边说，一边小心翼翼地掏出表来，“已经三点钟了，你妹妹可不习惯熬到这么晚哪。”
　　“那么，范妮，明天我走之前你不要起床。你尽管睡你的，不要管我。”
　　“噢！威廉。”
　　“什么！她想在你动身前起床吗？”
　　“噢！是的，姨父，”范妮嚷道，急忙起身，朝姨父跟前凑近些。“我要起来跟他一起吃早饭。您知道这是最后一次，最后一个早晨。”
　　“你最好不要起来。他九点半吃过早饭就动身。克劳福德先生，我想你是九点半来叫他吧？”
　　然而范妮非要坚持，满眼都是泪水，没法不答应她，最后姨父客气地说了声“好吧，好吧”，算是允许。
　　“是的，九点半，”威廉就要离开的时候，克劳福德对他说，“我会准时来叫你的，因为我可没有个好妹妹替我起来。”他又压低声音对范妮说：“明天我离家时家里会一片孤寂。你哥哥明天会发现我和他的时间概念完全不同。”
　　托马斯爵士略经思考，提出克劳福德第二天早晨不要一个人吃早饭，过来和他们一起吃，他自己也来作陪。克劳福德爽快地答应了，这就使托马斯爵士意识到，他原来的猜测是有充分依据的。他必须自我供认，他所以要举办这次舞会，在很大程度上是基于这种猜测。克劳福德先生爱上了范妮。托马斯爵士对事情的前景打着如意算盘。然而，外甥女对他刚才的安排并不领情。临到最后一个早晨了，她希望单独和威廉在一起，这个过分的要求又无法说出来。不过，尽管她的意愿被推翻了，她心里并无怨言。与此相反．她早就习以为常了，从来没有人考虑过她的乐趣，也从来没有要让什么事能遂她的愿，因此，听了这扫兴的安排之后，她并没有抱怨，而是觉得自己能坚持到这一步，真令她诧异和高兴。
　　过了不久，托马斯爵士又对她进行了一次小小的干涉，劝她立即去睡觉。虽然用的是一个“劝”字，但却完全是权威性的劝，她只好起身，克劳福德先生非常亲热地跟她道别之后，她悄悄地走了。到了门口又停下来，像兰克斯霍尔姆大宅的女主人①（译注：①引自英国诗人司各特的《最后一位行吟诗人之歌》。）那样，“只求再驻足片刻”，回望那快乐的场面，最后看一眼那五六对还在不辞辛苦决心跳到底的舞伴。然后，她慢吞吞地爬上主楼梯，乡村舞曲不绝于耳，希望和忧虑、汤和酒搅得她心魂摇荡，她脚痛体乏，激动不安，尽管如此，还是觉得舞会的确令人快乐。
　　把范妮打发走之后，托马斯爵士想到的也许还不仅仅是她的健康。他或许会觉得克劳福德先生在她身边已经坐得很久了，或者他可能是想让他看看她的温顺听话，表明她十分适合做他的妻子。　

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 30楼发表于: 2013-10-29 0

Chapter Twenty-nine

  The ball was over, and the breakfast was soon over too; the last kiss was given, and William was gone. Mr. Crawford had, as he foretold, been very punctual, and short and pleasant had been the meal.

  After seeing William to the last moment, Fanny walked back to the breakfast-room with a very saddened heart to grieve over the melancholy change; and there her uncle kindly left her to cry in peace, conceiving, perhaps, that the deserted chair of each young man might exercise her tender enthusiasm, and that the remaining cold pork bones and mustard in William's plate might but divide her feelings with the broken egg-shells in Mr. Crawford's. She sat and cried _con_ _amore_ as her uncle intended, but it was _con_ _amore_ fraternal and no other. William was gone, and she now felt as if she had wasted half his visit in idle cares and selfish solicitudes unconnected with him.

  Fanny's disposition was such that she could never even think of her aunt Norris in the meagreness and cheerlessness of her own small house, without reproaching herself for some little want of attention to her when they had been last together; much less could her feelings acquit her of having done and said and thought everything by William that was due to him for a whole fortnight.

  It was a heavy, melancholy day. Soon after the second breakfast, Edmund bade them good-bye for a week, and mounted his horse for Peterborough, and then all were gone. Nothing remained of last night but remembrances, which she had nobody to share in. She talked to her aunt Bertram-- she must talk to somebody of the ball; but her aunt had seen so little of what had passed, and had so little curiosity, that it was heavy work. Lady Bertram was not certain of anybody's dress or anybody's place at supper but her own. "She could not recollect what it was that she had heard about one of the Miss Maddoxes, or what it was that Lady Prescott had noticed in Fanny: she was not sure whether Colonel Harrison had been talking of Mr. Crawford or of William when he said he was the finest young man in the room-- somebody had whispered something to her; she had forgot to ask Sir Thomas what it could be." And these were her longest speeches and clearest communications: the rest was only a languid "Yes, yes; very well; did you? did he? I did not see _that_; I should not know one from the other." This was very bad. It was only better than Mrs. Norris's sharp answers would have been; but she being gone home with all the supernumerary jellies to nurse a sick maid, there was peace and good-humour in their little party, though it could not boast much beside.

  The evening was heavy like the day. "I cannot think what is the matter with me," said Lady Bertram, when the tea-things were removed. "I feel quite stupid. It must be sitting up so late last night. Fanny, you must do something to keep me awake. I cannot work. Fetch the cards; I feel so very stupid."

  The cards were brought, and Fanny played at cribbage with her aunt till bedtime; and as Sir Thomas was reading to himself, no sounds were heard in the room for the next two hours beyond the reckonings of the game--"And _that_ makes thirty-one; four in hand and eight in crib. You are to deal, ma'am; shall I deal for you?" Fanny thought and thought again of the difference which twenty-four hours had made in that room, and all that part of the house. Last night it had been hope and smiles, bustle and motion, noise and brilliancy, in the drawing-room, and out of the drawing-room, and everywhere. Now it was languor, and all but solitude.

  A good night's rest improved her spirits. She could think of William the next day more cheerfully; and as the morning afforded her an opportunity of talking over Thursday night with Mrs. Grant and Miss Crawford, in a very handsome style, with all the heightenings of imagination, and all the laughs of playfulness which are so essential to the shade of a departed ball, she could afterwards bring her mind without much effort into its everyday state, and easily conform to the tranquillity of the present quiet week.

  They were indeed a smaller party than she had ever known there for a whole day together, and _he_ was gone on whom the comfort and cheerfulness of every family meeting and every meal chiefly depended. But this must be learned to be endured. He would soon be always gone; and she was thankful that she could now sit in the same room with her uncle, hear his voice, receive his questions, and even answer them, without such wretched feelings as she had formerly known.

  "We miss our two young men," was Sir Thomas's observation on both the first and second day, as they formed their very reduced circle after dinner; and in consideration of Fanny's swimming eyes, nothing more was said on the first day than to drink their good health; but on the second it led to something farther. William was kindly commended and his promotion hoped for. "And there is no reason to suppose," added Sir Thomas, "but that his visits to us may now be tolerably frequent. As to Edmund, we must learn to do without him. This will be the last winter of his belonging to us, as he has done."

  "Yes," said Lady Bertram, "but I wish he was not going away. They are all going away, I think. I wish they would stay at home."

  This wish was levelled principally at Julia, who had just applied for permission to go to town with Maria; and as Sir Thomas thought it best for each daughter that the permission should be granted, Lady Bertram, though in her own good-nature she would not have prevented it, was lamenting the change it made in the prospect of Julia's return, which would otherwise have taken place about this time. A great deal of good sense followed on Sir Thomas's side, tending to reconcile his wife to the arrangement. Everything that a considerate parent _ought_ to feel was advanced for her use; and everything that an affectionate mother _must_ feel in promoting her children's enjoyment was attributed to her nature. Lady Bertram agreed to it all with a calm "Yes"; and at the end of a quarter of an hour's silent consideration spontaneously observed, "Sir Thomas, I have been thinking--and I am very glad we took Fanny as we did, for now the others are away we feel the good of it."

  Sir Thomas immediately improved this compliment by adding, "Very true. We shew Fanny what a good girl we think her by praising her to her face, she is now a very valuable companion. If we have been kind to _her_, she is now quite as necessary to _us_."

  "Yes," said Lady Bertram presently; "and it is a comfort to think that we shall always have _her_."

  Sir Thomas paused, half smiled, glanced at his niece, and then gravely replied, "She will never leave us, I hope, till invited to some other home that may reasonably promise her greater happiness than she knows here."

  "And _that_ is not very likely to be, Sir Thomas. Who should invite her? Maria might be very glad to see her at Sotherton now and then, but she would not think of asking her to live there; and I am sure she is better off here; and besides, I cannot do without her."

  The week which passed so quietly and peaceably at the great house in Mansfield had a very different character at the Parsonage. To the young lady, at least, in each family, it brought very different feelings. What was tranquillity and comfort to Fanny was tediousness and vexation to Mary. Something arose from difference of disposition and habit: one so easily satisfied, the other so unused to endure; but still more might be imputed to difference of circumstances. In some points of interest they were exactly opposed to each other. To Fanny's mind, Edmund's absence was really, in its cause and its tendency, a relief. To Mary it was every way painful. She felt the want of his society every day, almost every hour, and was too much in want of it to derive anything but irritation from considering the object for which he went. He could not have devised anything more likely to raise his consequence than this week's absence, occurring as it did at the very time of her brother's going away, of William Price's going too, and completing the sort of general break-up of a party which had been so animated. She felt it keenly. They were now a miserable trio, confined within doors by a series of rain and snow, with nothing to do and no variety to hope for. Angry as she was with Edmund for adhering to his own notions, and acting on them in defiance of her (and she had been so angry that they had hardly parted friends at the ball), she could not help thinking of him continually when absent, dwelling on his merit and affection, and longing again for the almost daily meetings they lately had. His absence was unnecessarily long. He should not have planned such an absence--he should not have left home for a week, when her own departure from Mansfield was so near. Then she began to blame herself. She wished she had not spoken so warmly in their last conversation. She was afraid she had used some strong, some contemptuous expressions in speaking of the clergy, and that should not have been. It was ill-bred; it was wrong. She wished such words unsaid with all her heart.

  Her vexation did not end with the week. All this was bad, but she had still more to feel when Friday came round again and brought no Edmund; when Saturday came and still no Edmund; and when, through the slight communication with the other family which Sunday produced, she learned that he had actually written home to defer his return, having promised to remain some days longer with his friend.

  If she had felt impatience and regret before--if she had been sorry for what she said, and feared its too strong effect on him--she now felt and feared it all tenfold more. She had, moreover, to contend with one disagreeable emotion entirely new to her--jealousy. His friend Mr. Owen had sisters; he might find them attractive. But, at any rate, his staying away at a time when, according to all preceding plans, she was to remove to London, meant something that she could not bear. Had Henry returned, as he talked of doing, at the end of three or four days, she should now have been leaving Mansfield. It became absolutely necessary for her to get to Fanny and try to learn something more. She could not live any longer in such solitary wretchedness; and she made her way to the Park, through difficulties of walking which she had deemed unconquerable a week before, for the chance of hearing a little in addition, for the sake of at least hearing his name.

  The first half-hour was lost, for Fanny and Lady Bertram were together, and unless she had Fanny to herself she could hope for nothing. But at last Lady Bertram left the room, and then almost immediately Miss Crawford thus began, with a voice as well regulated as she could--"And how do _you_ like your cousin Edmund's staying away so long? Being the only young person at home, I consider _you_ as the greatest sufferer. You must miss him. Does his staying longer surprise you?"

  "I do not know," said Fanny hesitatingly. "Yes; I had not particularly expected it."

  "Perhaps he will always stay longer than he talks of. It is the general way all young men do."

  "He did not, the only time he went to see Mr. Owen before."

  "He finds the house more agreeable _now_. He is a very-- a very pleasing young man himself, and I cannot help being rather concerned at not seeing him again before I go to London, as will now undoubtedly be the case. I am looking for Henry every day, and as soon as he comes there will be nothing to detain me at Mansfield. I should like to have seen him once more, I confess. But you must give my compliments to him. Yes; I think it must be compliments. Is not there a something wanted, Miss Price, in our language--a something between compliments and-- and love--to suit the sort of friendly acquaintance we have had together? So many months' acquaintance! But compliments may be sufficient here. Was his letter a long one? Does he give you much account of what he is doing? Is it Christmas gaieties that he is staying for?"

  "I only heard a part of the letter; it was to my uncle; but I believe it was very short; indeed I am sure it was but a few lines. All that I heard was that his friend had pressed him to stay longer, and that he had agreed to do so. A _few_ days longer, or _some_ days longer; I am not quite sure which."

  "Oh! if he wrote to his father; but I thought it might have been to Lady Bertram or you. But if he wrote to his father, no wonder he was concise. Who could write chat to Sir Thomas? If he had written to you, there would have been more particulars. You would have heard of balls and parties. He would have sent you a description of everything and everybody. How many Miss Owens are there?"

  "Three grown up."

  "Are they musical?"

  "I do not at all know. I never heard."

  "That is the first question, you know," said Miss Crawford, trying to appear gay and unconcerned, "which every woman who plays herself is sure to ask about another. 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."

  "I know nothing of the Miss Owens," said Fanny calmly.

  "You know nothing and you care less, as people say. Never did tone express indifference plainer. Indeed, how can one care for those one has never seen? Well, when your cousin comes back, he will find Mansfield very quiet; all the noisy ones gone, your brother and mine and myself I do not like the idea of leaving Mrs. Grant now the time draws near. She does not like my going."

  Fanny felt obliged to speak. "'You cannot doubt your being missed by many," said she. "You will be very much missed."

  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."

  Now Fanny could not bring herself to speak, and Miss Crawford was disappointed; for she had hoped to hear some pleasant assurance of her power from one who she thought must know, and her spirits were clouded again.

  "The Miss Owens," said she, soon afterwards; "suppose you were to have one of the Miss Owens settled at Thornton Lacey; how should you like it? Stranger things have happened. I dare say they are trying for it. And they are quite in the light, for it would be a very pretty establishment for them. I do not at all wonder or blame them. It is everybody's duty to do as well for themselves as they can. Sir Thomas Bertram's son is somebody; and now he is in their own line. Their father is a clergyman, and their brother is a clergyman, and they are all clergymen together. He is their lawful property; he fairly belongs to them. You don't speak, Fanny; Miss Price, you don't speak. But honestly now, do not you rather expect it than otherwise?"

  "No," said Fanny stoutly, "I do not expect it at all."

  "Not at all!" cried Miss Crawford with alacrity. "I wonder at that. But I dare say you know exactly-- I always imagine you are--perhaps you do not think him likely to marry at all--or not at present."

  "No, I do not," said Fanny softly, hoping she did not err either in the belief or the acknowledgment of it.

  Her companion looked at her keenly; and gathering greater spirit from the blush soon produced from such a look, only said, "He is best off as he is," and turned the subject.

　　舞会结束了，早饭也很快吃完了，最后的亲吻给过了，威廉走了。克劳福德先生果然来得很准时，饭吃得又紧凑又惬意。
　　送走了威廉之后，范妮才心情沉重地回到早餐厅，为这令人心酸的变化感到悲伤。姨父出于好意，让她在早餐厅里静静地流泪。他心里也许在想，两个年轻人刚刚坐过的椅子会勾起她的一番柔情，威廉盘子里剩下的冷猪排骨头和芥末，只不过能分散一下克劳福德先生盘子里的蛋壳在她心里引起的伤感罢了。正如姨父所希望的那样，她坐在那里痛哭，但她哭得伤心只是因为走了哥哥，并不是为了别人。威廉走了，她现在觉得，她那些与他无关的无谓的操心和自私的烦恼，使他在这里虚度了一半的时日。
　　范妮天性敦厚，就连每次一想到诺里斯姨妈住在那么局促、那么凄凉的一座小屋里，就要责备自己上次和她在一起时对她那么冷漠，现在再想到两周来对威廉的一言一行、一思一念，更觉得问心有愧。
　　这是一个沉重沮丧的日子。第二次早餐吃过不久，埃德蒙向家人告别，骑马去彼得伯勒，一个星期后才回来。于是，人都走了。昨晚的一切只剩下了记忆，而这些记忆又无人可以分享。范妮总得跟什么人谈谈舞会，她便讲给伯特伦姨妈听，可是姨妈看到的很少，又不怎么感兴趣，和她谈没有什么意思。伯特伦夫人记不清谁穿了什么衣服，谁吃饭时坐在什么位置，她只记得她自己。“我记不得听人讲起了马多克斯家的哪位小姐的什么事，也记不得普雷斯科特夫人是怎么谈论范妮的。我拿不准哈里森上校是说克劳福德先生还是说威廉是舞厅里最漂亮的小伙子。有人悄悄地对我嘀咕了几句，我忘了问问托马斯爵士那话是什么意思。”这是她说得最长、也最清楚的一段话，其余的只是些懒洋洋的话：“是的——是的——挺好——你是这样吗？他是这样吗？——我没看出这一点——我不知道这两者有什么不同。”这实在令人扫兴。只比诺里斯太太的刻薄回答好一些。不过，诺里斯太太已经回家了，还把剩下的果冻都带走了，说是要给一个生病的女仆吃。这样一来，这一小伙人虽说没有别的好夸口的，却也安安静静，和和气气的。
　　这天晚上像白天一样沉闷。“我不知道我是怎么啦！”茶具撤去之后，伯特伦夫人说。“我觉得昏昏沉沉的。一定是昨天夜里睡得太晚了。范妮，你得想个办法别让我睡着了。我做不成活了。把牌拿来，我觉得头昏脑涨。”
　　牌拿来了，范妮陪姨妈玩克里比奇牌戏①（译注：①一种二至四人玩的牌戏，用插在有孔的记分板上的小钉记分。），一直玩到就寝的时候。托马斯爵士在黩默地看书，一连两个小时，除了算分的声音外，再没有别的声响。“这就够三十一点了。一手牌四张，配点牌八张。该你发牌了，姨妈。要我替你发吗？”范妮翻来覆去地想着这间屋子及整幢房子这一带一天来发生的变化。昨天夜里，不管是客厅内，还是客厅外，到处都是希望和笑脸，大家忙忙碌碌，人声鼎沸，灯火辉煌。现在，却死气沉沉，一片寂静。
　　范妮夜里睡好了，人也就来了精神，第二天想起威廉来，心情已不那么低沉。上午她有机会跟格兰特太太和克劳福德小姐兴致勃勃地谈起星期四晚上的那场舞会，一个个驾起想象的翅膀，高兴得纵声大笑，这对舞会过后的感伤是极为重要的。后来，她没怎么费劲就恢复了平时的心情，轻易地适应了这一星期的寂静生活。
　　这一整天，她觉得家里的人从来没有这样少过。每次家里有聚会，每次在一起吃饭，她所以感到欣慰、快乐，主要是因为有一个人在场，而他现在却不在了。不过，她必须学会去习惯这种情况。过不久，他就要经常离家在外了。她感到庆幸的是，她现在能跟姨父坐在同一间屋子里，能听到他的声音，听到他向她提问，即使在回答他的问题时，也不像以前那样忐忑不安了。
　　“见不到两个年轻人，心里挺惦念的，”接连两天，当这大大缩小了的一家人晚饭后坐在一起时，托马斯爵士都这样说。第一天，看到范妮眼泪汪汪，他没再说别的话，只建议为他们的健康干杯。可在第二天，话就扯得远了些。托马斯爵士又称赞起了威廉，盼望他能晋升。“我们有充分的理由相信，”他接着说道，“他今后可以常来看望我们。至于埃德蒙，我们要习惯于他长年不在家。这是他在家里度过的最后一个冬天。”“是的，”伯将伦夫人说，“不过，我希望他不要远走。我看他们都要远走高飞。我希望他们能待在家里。”
　　她这个愿望主要是针对朱莉娅说的。朱莉娅不久前请求和玛丽亚一起去伦敦，托马斯爵士觉得这对两个姑娘都有好处，便同意了。伯特伦夫人天生一副好脾气，自然不会阻拦。但按照说定的日期，朱莉娅这时也该回来了，伯特伦夫人只能埋怨临时有变，使她不能如期归来。托马斯爵士尽量好言相劝，想让妻子对这样的安排想通一些。一个体贴的母亲应该怎样处处为儿女着想，他样样都替她说全了；一个疼爱儿女的母亲必须怎样事事让儿女快乐，他说她天生就有这样的情怀。伯特伦夫人表示赞成这些话，平静地说了一声“是的”。她默默地想了一刻钟后，不由自主地说道：“托马斯爵士，我一直在想——我很高兴我们收养了范妮。如今别人都走了，我们感受到了这一招的好处。”
　　托马斯爵士想把话说得周全一些，立即补充道：“一点不错。我们当面夸奖范妮，让她知道我们把她看做多好的一个姑娘。现在，她是一个非常可贵的伙伴。我们一直对她好，她现在对我们也十分重要。”
　　“是的，”伯特伦夫人紧接着说，“一想到她会永远和我们在一起，真令人感到欣慰。”
　　托马斯爵士稍顿了顿，微微一笑，瞥了一眼外甥女，然后一本正经地答道：“希望她永远不要离开我们，直到有一个比我们更能使她幸福的家把她请去。”
　　“这是不大可能的，托马斯爵士。谁会请她呢？也许玛丽亚乐于偶尔请她去索瑟顿做客，但不会想要请她在那里长住——我敢说，她在这里比去哪里都好——再说我也离不开她。”
　　在曼斯菲尔德的大宅里，这个星期过得平平静静，但在牧师府上，情况却大不相同。至少是两家的两位小姐，心情大不相同。让范妮感到宁静和欣慰的事情，却使玛丽感到厌烦和苦恼。这与性情习惯不同有一定关系——一个容易满足，另一个遇事不能容忍。但更主要的原因是境遇不同。在某些利害问题上，两人恰好完全相反。范妮觉得，埃德蒙离家外出，就其动机和意向而言，的确令人感到欣慰。而玛丽却感到痛苦不堪。她每天、几乎每小时都渴望与他相聚，一想到他这次外出的动机，她只会为之恼火。她哥哥走了，威廉·普莱斯也走了，他再偏要在这个星期外出，使他们这个原本生气勃勃的小圈子彻底瓦解，他这次离去比什么都更能提高他的身价。她心里真不是滋味。现在就剩下他们可怜巴巴的三个人，被连续的雨雪困在家里，无事可做，也没有什么新鲜事可企盼。虽然她恨埃德蒙固执己见，恨他无视她的意愿（她由于愤恨不已，在舞厅里可以说是和他不欢而散），可是等他离家之后，她又禁不住老是想念他，不停地琢磨他的好处和深情，又盼着能像先前那样几乎天天和他相聚。他没有必要出去这么久。她眼看就要离开曼斯菲尔德了，他不该在这个时候外出——不该离家一个星期。接着她又责怪起自己来。在最后那次谈话中，她不该出言那么激烈。在讲到牧师的时候，她恐怕用了一些激烈的——一些轻蔑的言词，这是不应该的。这是没有教养的表现——这是不对的。她对这些话感到由衷的悔恨。
　　一个星期过去了，她的烦恼却没有完结。这一切已够她心烦的了，可现在她还要烦上加烦。星期五又来到了，埃德蒙却没有回来，星期六也到了，埃德蒙依然没有回来，星期天和他家里联系了一下，得知他给家里写信说，他要推迟他的归期，已答应在朋友那里再住几天！
　　如果说她已经感到不耐烦，感到悔恨——如果说她已经为自己说的话感到后悔，担心那些话会给他带来过分强烈的刺激，那她现在的悔恨和担心则增加了十倍。此外，她还得和一种她从来不曾体会过的讨厌心情——嫉妒作斗筝。他的朋友欧文有妹妹，他会觉得她们很迷人。不管怎么说，在她按照原先计划要去伦敦的时候，他却待在外地，这总是有点不像话，让她无法忍受。如果亨利真如他说的那样走后三四天便回来，那她现在就该离开曼斯菲尔德了。她必须去找范妮，向她了解点情况。她不能再这样一个人愁闷下去。她向庄园走去，只想再听到一点消息，至少能听到他的名字。一个星期以前，她会觉得路太难走，决不会跑这一趟的。
　　头半个小时白白地过去了，因为范妮和伯特伦夫人在一起，除非她和范妮单独在一起，否则她什么也休想听到。不过，伯特伦夫人终于出去了——这时，克劳福德小姐迫不及待地开口了，以尽可能得体的口气说道：“你埃德蒙表哥离家这么久，你觉得怎么样？家里只剩下你一个年轻人，我想你是最苦闷的。你一定在想念他。你没料到他会逾期不归吧？”
　　“我说不准，”范妮支支吾吾地说。“是的——我没有料到。”
　　“也许他将来总也不能说什么时候回就什么时候回。年轻男人一般都是这样。”
　　“他以前只去过欧文先生家一次，那一次并没有逾期不归。”
　　“这一次他发现那家人比以前讨人喜欢了。他自己就是一个非常——非常讨人喜欢的年轻人，我不由得在担心，我去伦敦之前再也见不到他了。现在看来肯定会是这样的。我每天都在盼着亨利回来，他一回来，曼斯菲尔德就再也没有什么事情能拦住我不走了。说实话，我想再见他一次。不过，请你代我向他表示敬慕之意。是的——我想应该是敬慕。普莱斯小姐，我们的语言里是否缺少一个适当的字眼，介于敬慕和——和爱慕之间，来表达我们友好相处的那种关系？我们相处了那么久啊！不过，用个敬慕也许就够了。他的信写得长吗？他是否详细告诉了你们他在干什么？他是否要待在那里过圣诞节？”
　　“我只听说了部分内容。信是写给我姨父的。不过，我想写得很短，我敢说只有寥寥几行。我光听说他的朋友非要让他多住几天，他也就答应了。是多住几天还是多住些天，我不是很有把握。”
　　“噢！要是写给他父亲的——我原以为是写给伯特伦夫人或者你的。如果是写给他父亲的，自然话就不多了。谁会给托马斯爵士在信里写那么多闲话呢？他要是给你写信，就会写得很详细。你就会了解到舞会、宴会的情况。他会把每件事、每个人都向你描述一番。欧文家有几位小姐？”
　　“有三位长大成人的。”
　　“她们爱好音乐吗？”
　　“我不知道。从来没有听说过。”
　　“你知道，”克劳福德小姐说，一边装出快活的、若无其事的样子，“每个喜欢乐器的女士打听别的女士时，首先问的就是这个问题。不过，你可不能犯傻去打听年轻小姐——刚长大成人的三个姊妹。你不用打听，就知道她们怎么样——个个都多才多艺，招人喜爱，有一个还很漂亮。每家都有一个美人，这是规律。两个弹钢琴，一个弹竖琴——个个都会唱——要是有人教的话，个个都会唱——要是没人教的话，反倒唱得更好——如此这般吧。”
　　“我一点也不了解欧文家的几位小姐，”范妮平静地说。
　　“常言说，不知少操心。这话说得再好不过了。的确，对于你从没见过的人，你怎么会在意呢？唉，等你表哥回来，他会发现曼斯菲尔德异常安静。爱说爱笑的人，你哥哥、我哥哥和我全走了。眼见行期临近了，我一想到要和格兰特太太分手，心里就不是滋味。她不想让我走。”
　　范妮觉得自己不得不说几句。“你走后肯定会有很多人想你，”她说。“大家会非常想念你。”
　　克劳福德小姐转眼望着她，像是想要多听一听，多看一看，接着笑道：“噢！是的，大家会想念我的，就像令人讨厌的吵闹声一旦消失，也会让人思念一样，因为这让人感到了巨大的反差。不过，我可不是在转弯抹角讨恭维，你也不要恭维我。要是真有人想我，那是看得出来的。谁想见我都能找到我。我不会住在什么神秘莫测或遥不可及的地方。”
　　范妮没有心思说话，克劳福德小姐感到失望。她原以为对方深知她的魅力，会说一些合她心意的奉承话。她的心头又罩上了阴影。
　　“欧文家的几位小姐，”过了不久她又说，“假如她们中的哪一位能在桑顿莱西找到归属，你觉得怎么样？更稀奇的事都发生过。我敢说她们尽力争取。她们完全应该这么做，因为对她们来说，这是一份很不错的家业。我一点也不感到奇怪，也不怪她们。人人都有义务尽量为自己谋利益。托马斯爵士的公子算得上一个人物了，如今他已进入她们家那一行了。她们的父亲是牧师，她们的哥哥是牧师，他们是牧师跟牧师凑到一起了。他成了她们的合法财产，他理所应当是属于她们的。你是不说，范妮——普莱斯小姐——你是明知不说。不过，请你说实话，这难道不是你意料中的事情吗？”
　　“不，”范妮果决地说，“我丝毫没有料到。”
　　“丝毫没料到！”克劳福德小姐急忙嚷道。“我感到奇怪。不过我敢说，你了解得一清二楚——我一直以为你——也许你认为他压根儿不想结婚——或者目前不想结婚。”
　　“是的，我是这样认为的，”范妮婉转地说——既不希望自己判断错误，也拿不准该不该承认自己的看法。
　　她的伙伴目光犀利地盯着她，范妮马上涨红了脸，克劳福德小姐精神为之一振，只说了声“他现在这样对他来说是最好的”，随即转变了话题。　

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 31楼发表于: 2013-10-29 0

Chapter Thirty

  Miss Crawford's uneasiness was much lightened by this conversation, and she walked home again in spirits which might have defied almost another week of the same small party in the same bad weather, had they been put to the proof; but as that very evening brought her brother down from London again in quite, or more than quite, his usual cheerfulness, she had nothing farther to try her own. His still refusing to tell her what he had gone for was but the promotion of gaiety; a day before it might have irritated, but now it was a pleasant joke-- suspected only of concealing something planned as a pleasant surprise to herself. And the next day _did_ bring a surprise to her. Henry had said he should just go and ask the Bertrams how they did, and be back in ten minutes, but he was gone above an hour; and when his sister, who had been waiting for him to walk with her in the garden, met him at last most impatiently in the sweep, and cried out, "My dear Henry, where can you have been all this time?" he had only to say that he had been sitting with Lady Bertram and Fanny.

  "Sitting with them an hour and a half!" exclaimed Mary.

  But this was only the beginning of her surprise.

  "Yes, Mary," said he, drawing her arm within his, and walking along the sweep as if not knowing where he was: "I could not get away sooner; Fanny looked so lovely! I am quite determined, Mary. My mind is entirely made up. Will it astonish you? No: you must be aware that I am quite determined to marry Fanny Price."

  The surprise was now complete; for, in spite of whatever his consciousness might suggest, a suspicion of his having any such views had never entered his sister's imagination; and she looked so truly the astonishment she felt, that he was obliged to repeat what he had said, and more fully and more solemnly. The conviction of his determination once admitted, it was not unwelcome. There was even pleasure with the surprise. Mary was in a state of mind to rejoice in a connexion with the Bertram family, and to be not displeased with her brother's marrying a little beneath him.

  "Yes, Mary," was Henry's concluding assurance. "I am fairly caught. You know with what idle designs I began; but this is the end of them. I have, I flatter myself, made no inconsiderable progress in her affections; but my own are entirely fixed."

  "Lucky, lucky girl!" cried Mary, as soon as she could speak; "what a match for her! My dearest Henry, this must be my _first_ feeling; but my _second_, which you shall have as sincerely, is, that I approve your choice from my soul, and foresee your happiness as heartily as I wish and desire it. You will have a sweet little wife; all gratitude and devotion. Exactly what you deserve. What an amazing match for her! Mrs. Norris often talks of her luck; 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 for ever. 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; and before he had expressed the same sentiment with a little variation of words three times over, his sister eagerly interrupted him with, "Ah, my dear Henry, and this is what took you to London! This was your business! You chose to consult the Admiral before you made up your mind."

  But this he stoutly denied. He knew his uncle too well to consult him on any matrimonial scheme. The Admiral hated marriage, and thought it never pardonable in a young man of independent fortune.

  "When Fanny is known to him," continued Henry, "he will doat on her. She is exactly the woman to do away every prejudice of such a man as the Admiral, for she he would describe, if indeed he has now delicacy of language enough to embody his own ideas. But till it is absolutely settled-- settled beyond all interference, he shall know nothing of the matter. No, Mary, you are quite mistaken. You have not discovered my business yet."

  "Well, well, I am satisfied. I know now to whom it must relate, and am in no hurry for the rest. Fanny Price! wonderful, quite wonderful! That Mansfield should have done so much for--that _you_ should have found your fate in Mansfield! But you are quite right; you could not have chosen better. There is not a better girl in the world, and you do not want for fortune; and as to her connexions, they are more than good. The Bertrams are undoubtedly some of the first people in this country. She is niece to Sir Thomas Bertram; that will be enough for the world. But go on, go on. Tell me more. What are your plans? Does she know her own happiness?"

  "No."

  "What are you waiting for?"

  "For--for very little more than opportunity. Mary, she is not like her cousins; but I think I shall not ask in vain."

  "Oh no! you cannot. Were you even less pleasing-- supposing her not to love you already (of which, however, I can have little doubt)--you would be safe. The gentleness and gratitude of her disposition would secure her all your own immediately. From my soul I do not think she would marry you _without_ love; that is, if there is a girl in the world capable of being uninfluenced by ambition, I can suppose it her; but ask her to love you, and she will never have the heart to refuse."

  As soon as her eagerness could rest in silence, he was as happy to tell as she could be to listen; and a conversation followed almost as deeply interesting to her as to himself, though he had in fact nothing to relate but his own sensations, nothing to dwell on but Fanny's charms. Fanny's beauty of face and figure, Fanny's graces of manner and goodness of heart, were the exhaustless theme. The gentleness, modesty, and sweetness of her character were warmly expatiated on; that sweetness which makes so essential a part of every woman's worth in the judgment of man, that though he sometimes loves where it is not, he can never believe it absent. Her temper he had good reason to depend on and to praise. He had often seen it tried. Was there one of the family, excepting Edmund, who had not in some way or other continually exercised her patience and forbearance? Her affections were evidently strong. To see her with her brother! What could more delightfully prove that the warmth of her heart was equal to its gentleness? What could be more encouraging to a man who had her love in view? Then, her understanding was beyond every suspicion, quick and clear; and her manners were the mirror of her own modest and elegant mind. Nor was this all. Henry Crawford had too much sense not to feel the worth of good principles in a wife, though he was too little accustomed to serious reflection to know them by their proper name; but when he talked of her having such a steadiness and regularity of conduct, such a high notion of honour, and such an observance of decorum as might warrant any man in the fullest dependence on her faith and integrity, he expressed what was inspired by the knowledge of her being well principled and religious.

  "I could so wholly and absolutely confide in her," said he; "and _that_ is what I want."

  Well might his sister, believing as she really did that his opinion of Fanny Price was scarcely beyond her merits, rejoice in her prospects.

  "The more I think of it," she cried, "the more am I convinced that you are doing quite right; and though I should never have selected Fanny Price as the girl most likely to attach you, I am now persuaded she is the very one to make you happy. Your wicked project upon her peace turns out a clever thought indeed. You will both find your good in it."

  "It was bad, very bad in me against such a creature; but I did not know her then; and she shall have no reason to lament the hour that first put it into my head. I will make her very happy, Mary; happier than she has ever yet been herself, or ever seen anybody else. I will not take her from Northamptonshire. I shall let Everingham, and rent a place in this neighbourhood; perhaps Stanwix Lodge. I shall let a seven years' lease of Everingham. I am sure of an excellent tenant at half a word. I could name three people now, who would give me my own terms and thank me."

  "Ha!" cried Mary; "settle in Northamptonshire! That is pleasant! Then we shall be all together."

  When she had spoken it, she recollected herself, and wished it unsaid; but there was no need of confusion; for her brother saw her only as the supposed inmate of Mansfield parsonage, and replied but to invite her in the kindest manner to his own house, and to claim the best right in her.

  "You must give us more than half your time," said he. "I cannot admit Mrs. Grant to have an equal claim with Fanny and myself, for we shall both have a right in you. Fanny will be so truly your sister!"

  Mary had only to be grateful and give general assurances; but she was now very fully purposed to be the guest of neither brother nor sister many months longer.

  "You will divide your year between London and Northamptonshire?"

  "Yes."

  "That's right; and in London, of course, a house of your own: no longer with the Admiral. My dearest Henry, the advantage to you of getting away from the Admiral before your manners are hurt by the contagion of his, before you have contracted any of his foolish opinions, or learned to sit over your dinner as if it were the best blessing of life! _You_ are not sensible of the gain, for your regard for him has blinded you; but, in my estimation, your marrying early may be the saving of you. To have seen you grow like the Admiral in word or deed, look or gesture, would have broken my heart."

  "Well, well, we do not think quite alike here. The Admiral has his faults, but he is a very good man, and has been more than a father to me. Few fathers would have let me have my own way half so much. You must not prejudice Fanny against him. I must have them love one another."

  Mary refrained from saying what she felt, that there could not be two persons in existence whose characters and manners were less accordant: time would discover it to him; but she could not help _this_ reflection on the Admiral. "Henry, I think so highly of Fanny Price, that if I could suppose the next Mrs. Crawford would have half the reason which my poor ill-used aunt had to abhor the very name, I would prevent the marriage, if possible; but I know you: I know that a wife you _loved_ would be the happiest of women, and that even when you ceased to love, she would yet find in you the liberality and good-breeding of a gentleman."

  The impossibility of not doing everything in the world to make Fanny Price happy, or of ceasing to love Fanny Price, was of course the groundwork of his eloquent answer.

  "Had you seen her this morning, Mary," he continued, "attending with such ineffable sweetness and patience to all the demands of her aunt's stupidity, working with her, and for her, her colour beautifully heightened as she leant over the work, then returning to her seat to finish a note which she was previously engaged in writing for that stupid woman's service, and all this with such unpretending gentleness, so much as if it were a matter of course that she was not to have a moment at her own command, her hair arranged as neatly as it always is, and one little curl falling forward as she wrote, which she now and then shook back, and in the midst of all this, still speaking at intervals to _me_, or listening, and as if she liked to listen, to what I said. Had you seen her so, Mary, you would not have implied the possibility of her power over my heart ever ceasing."

  "My dearest Henry," cried Mary, stopping short, and smiling in his face, "how glad I am to see you so much in love! It quite delights me. But what will Mrs. Rushworth and Julia say?"

  "I care neither what they say nor what they feel. They will now see what sort of woman it is that can attach me, that can attach a man of sense. I wish the discovery may do them any good. And they will now see their cousin treated as she ought to be, and I wish they may be heartily ashamed of their own abominable neglect and unkindness. They will be angry," he added, after a moment's silence, and in a cooler tone; "Mrs. Rushworth will be very angry. It will be a bitter pill to her; that is, like other bitter pills, it will have two moments' ill flavour, and then be swallowed and forgotten; for I am not such a coxcomb as to suppose her feelings more lasting than other women's, though _I_ was the object of them. Yes, Mary, my Fanny will feel a difference indeed: a daily, hourly difference, in the behaviour of every being who approaches her; and it will be the completion of my happiness to know that I am the doer of it, that I am the person to give the consequence so justly her due. Now she is dependent, helpless, friendless, neglected, forgotten."

  "Nay, Henry, not by all; not forgotten by all; not friendless or forgotten. Her cousin Edmund never forgets her."

  "Edmund! True, I believe he is, generally speaking, kind to her, and so is Sir Thomas in his way; but it is the way of a rich, superior, long-worded, arbitrary uncle. What can Sir Thomas and Edmund together do, what do they _do_ for her happiness, comfort, honour, and dignity in the world, to what I _shall_ do?"

　　这次谈话大大减轻了克劳福德小姐心头的不安，她又高高兴兴地往家里走去，即便再下一个星期的阴雨，即便仍然只有这么寥寥无几的人为伴，她都会经受得了。不过，就在当天晚上，她哥哥又从伦敦回来了，像平时一样兴高采烈，甚至比平时还要高兴，因此她也就无须再经受进一步的考验了。哥哥仍然不肯把他此行的目的告诉她，这倒让她越发高兴。若是在一天以前，这只会使她生气，可现在却成了有趣的玩笑——她猜想，所以不告诉她，一定是有什么事瞒着她，想给她来个惊喜。第二天还真出了一件出乎她意料的事。亨利原说去向伯特伦一家人问个好，十分钟后就回来——可他去了一个多小时。他妹妹一直在等他陪她在花园里散步，最后等得实在不耐烦，终于在拐弯处遇到了他，便大声嚷道：“亲爱的亨利，你这大半天跑到哪儿去了？”做哥哥的只好说，他是在陪伯特伦夫人和范妮。
　　“陪她们坐了一个半钟头啊！”玛丽嚷道。
　　不过，这还仅仅是她惊奇的开始。
　　“是的，玛丽。”亨利挽住了她的胳膊，顺着拐弯处走着，好像不知身在何处。“我没法早走——范妮那模样有多美呀！我已经打定了主意，玛丽。我已经下定了决心。你会吃惊吗？不会的——你应该意识到，我是打定主意要和范妮·普莱斯结婚的。”
　　这时，做妹妹的已经惊奇到了极点。玛丽虽说了解一点哥哥的心思，但做梦也没想到他会有这样的打算。亨利见妹妹大为惊诧，不得不把刚才讲过的话又讲了一遍，而且一本正经地讲得更加充分。做妹妹的明白了哥哥真的做出了这样的决定后，觉得他这个决定也并非不足取。她在惊奇的同时甚至感到高兴。她为他们家与伯特伦家结成亲戚而满心欢喜，哥哥的这桩婚事虽说有点低就，她也并不在意了。
　　“是的，玛丽，”亨利最后说道，“我完全坠人了情网。你知道，我一开始打的是些无聊的主意——但最后却是这样的结局。我自以为已经使她对我颇有好感，但我对她的感情却是坚定不移的。”
　　“好幸运，好幸运的姑娘啊！”玛丽心情一平静便嚷道。“这对她是多好的一门亲事呀！我最亲爱的亨利，这是我的第一个感觉。可我的第二个感觉是，我要同样真诚地告诉你，我由衷地赞成你的选择，预见你会像我衷心希望的那样幸福。你将有一个娇小可爱的妻子，对你感激不尽，忠心耿耿。你也完全配有这样一个人。这门亲事对她来说是多么意外啊！诺里斯太太常说她运气好，她现在又会怎么说呀？这真是他们全家人的喜事啊！在这一家人中，她倒有几个真正的朋友。他们该多么高兴啊！你给我从头到尾地讲一讲，滔滔不绝地讲下去。你是什么时候开始认真考虑她的？”
　　这种问题虽说最乐意让别人问，但是却又最难以回答。他说不出来“那令人陶醉的烦恼如何偷偷袭上我的心头”①（译注：①引自英国剧作家和桂冠诗人威廉·怀特海德( 1715 -1785)的诗句。）。他用略加改变的措辞反复表达这个意思，没等重复完第三遍，他妹妹便迫不及待地打断了他，说道：“啊！亲爱的亨利，你就是为这去伦敦的呀！这就是你去办的事呀！你是去找海军将军商量，然后再拿定主意的。”
　　亨利对此矢口否认。他很了解叔父，不会拿婚姻问题去征求他的意见。海军将军讨厌结婚，一个有独立财产的年轻人要结婚，他认为永远不能原谅。
　　“他要是认识了范妮，”亨利继续说，“一定会非常喜欢她。她正是一个可以打消海军将军这种人的种种成见的女子，因为她正是他认为世上不会有的那种女子。她是他所描绘的不可能存在的女人——如果他真有美妙的措辞来表达自己的思想的话。不过，没到事情彻底定下来之前——没到木已成舟，无法干涉之前，他是得不到一点风声的。玛丽，你刚才完全猜错了。你还没有猜出我去伦敦办什么事呢！”
　　“好了，好了，我明白了。现在我知道事情与谁有关了，其余的我也不急于想知道。范妮·普莱斯——妙啊——妙极啦！曼斯菲尔德居然为你起了这么大的作用—— 你居然在曼斯菲尔德找到了你命运的寄托！不过，你做得很对，你的选择再好不过了。世上没有比她更好的姑娘，何况你又不需要财产。至于她的亲戚们，他们都是些上好的人。伯特伦家无疑是这个国家的上等人家。她是托马斯爵士的外甥女，仅凭这一点，就会让世人另眼相待。不过，说下去，说下去。再给我多讲一讲。你是怎么计划的？她知不知道自已大喜临门了？”
　　“不知道。”
　　“你还在等什么？”
　　“在等——在等一个稍微稳妥一点的时机。玛丽，她可不像她的两个表姐。我想我提出来可不能碰钉子。”
　　“噢！不会的，你不会碰钉子。即使你不这么可爱——即使她还没有爱上你（可我毫不怀疑她已经爱上了你），你也会万无一失。她性情温柔，知恩图报，你只要一提出，她马上就会属于你。我打心眼里认为，她要是嫁给你是不会不爱你的。这就是说，如果世上还有一位姑娘不为虚荣所动的话，我想这个人就是她。不过，你尽管求她爱你好了，她是决不会狠心拒绝你的。”
　　玛丽那急切的心情一平静下来，亨利就乐滋滋地讲给她听，她也乐滋滋地听他讲。接着，两人便交谈起来，而且几乎同样兴致勃勃。不过，其实亨利除了自己的感情之外，并没有什么可讲的，除了范妮的妩媚之外，并没有什么可谈的。范妮那俏丽的面孔和袅娜的身段，她那文雅的举止和善良的心地，成了谈不完的话题。她那温柔、和悦、贤淑的性情，被热情洋溢地夸来夸去。在男人看来，这种温柔正是每一个女人最可贵的品质所在，虽然他有时爱上的女人并不温柔，但他从不认为对方有这样的缺欠。至于范妮的脾气，他有充足的理由去信赖，去赞扬。他经常看到她的脾气经受考验。这家人当中，除了埃德蒙以外，哪一个不在以这样那样的方式不断地考验她的耐心和包容？显然，她的感情是炽烈的。看她对她哥哥有多好啊！这岂不是最能证明她的心肠不仅是温柔的，而且也十分多情吗？对于一个眼看就要赢得她的爱情的男人来说，这不是莫大的鼓舞吗？此外，她的头脑也毋庸置疑，又聪慧又敏锐。她的言谈举止显示了她的稳重和涵养。还不止这些。事利·克劳福德虽然没有认真思考的习惯，说不出做妻子的应该具有哪些名目的美德，但他又很聪明，懂得妻子身上具有美德的价值。他谈到范妮为人稳重，行为得体，谈到她自尊自重，讲究礼仪，这就可以使人充分相信她会对丈夫忠贞不渝。他所以说这些话，是因为他知道她有高尚的道德准则，有虔诚的宗教信仰。
　　“我可以不折不扣地信任她，”他说。“这正是我所需要的。”
　　他妹妹认为他对范妮·普莱斯的夸奖并不过分，因而对他的前景满怀喜悦。
　　“我越琢磨这件事，”她嚷道，“越觉得你做得完全对。虽然我从来不曾认为范妮·普莱斯可能是最让你着迷的姑娘，但现在我相信她最能让你幸福。你原来搞恶作剧，想搅得她心神不宁，到头来还真成了神机妙算。这对你们两人都大有好处。”
　　“当初我对这样好的人存心不良，真是太拙劣了！不过，那时我还不了解她。我要让她没有理由为我当初心里冒出这个念头感到遗憾。我要使她非常幸福，玛丽，比她以往任何时候都幸福，比她看到过的任何人都幸福。我不把她从北安普敦郡带走，我要把埃弗灵厄姆租出去，在这附近一带租幢房子，也许租下斯坦威克斯宅第。我要把埃弗灵厄姆租出去七年。我只要一开口，准能找到一个非常好的房客。我现在就能说出三个人，既会满足我的条件，又会感谢我。”
　　“哈哈！”玛丽大声嚷道，“在北安普敦定居呀！这太好啦！那我们大家都在一起了。”
　　她话一出口，便省悟过来，后悔不该说这话。不过，她也不必慌张。她哥哥只当是她仍要住在曼斯菲尔德的牧师府上，因此作为回答，只是非常亲热地邀请她到他家做客，并且要她首先满足他的要求。
　　“你必须把你一半以上的时间给我们，”他说。“我不允许格兰特太太跟范妮和我权利均等，我们俩对你都拥有一份权利。范妮将是你真诚的嫂嫂呀！”
　　玛丽只有表示感激，并含糊其词地做了许诺。但她既不打算长期在姐姐家里客居下去，也不愿意在哥哥家里久住。
　　“你打算一年中在伦敦和北安普敦郡轮流住吗？”
　　“是的。”
　　“这就对了。你在伦敦自然要有自己的房子，不再住在将军家里。我最亲爱的亨利，离开将军对你有好处，趁你的教养还没有受到他的熏染伤害，趁他的那些愚蠢的见解还没有传染给你，趁你还没有学会一味地讲吃讲喝，好像吃喝是人生最大的幸福似的！你可不明白离开将军对你的好处，因为你对他的崇拜蒙蔽了你的眼睛。但是，在我看来，你早一点结婚可能会挽救你。眼见着你在言行、神情和姿态上越来越像将军，我会很伤心的。”
　　“好了，好了，我们在这个问题上看法不大一样。将军有他的缺点，但他为人很好，对我胜过生身父亲。就是做父亲的也很少会像他这样，我干什么他都支持。你不能让范妮对他产生偏见。我要让他们彼此相爱。”
　　玛丽觉得，世上没有哪两个人像他们这样，从品格到礼貌教养这么格格不入，但她没有说出口，到时候他会明白的。不过，她却禁不住要对将军讲出这样的想法：“亨利，我觉得范妮·普莱斯这么好的一个人，要是我认为下一个克劳福德太太会受到我那可怜的婶婶所受的一半虐待，会像我那可怜的婶婶那样憎恨这个称呼，但凡有可能，我就会阻止这桩婚事。不过，我了解你。我知道，你爱的妻子会是最幸福的女人，即使你不再爱她了，她也会从你身上看到一位绅士的宽怀大度和良好教养。”
　　亨利口若悬河地做了回答，说的自然是要竭尽全力促使范妮-普莱斯幸福，要永远爱范妮·普莱斯。
　　“玛丽，”亨利接着说，“你要是看到她今天上午如何关照她姨妈，那个温柔、耐心的劲头真是难以形容：满足她姨妈的种种愚蠢要求，跟她一起做活，替她做活，俯身做活时脸上飞起艳丽的红霞，随后又回到座位上，继续替那位蠢女人写信，她做这一切的时候显得十分柔顺，毫不做作，好像都是理所当然的事，她不需要一点时间归自己支配，她的头发总是梳得纹丝不乱，写信的时候一卷秀发耷拉到额前，不时地给甩回去。在这整个过程中，她还时不时地跟我说话，或者听我说话，好像我说什么她都爱听。你要是看到这种种情景，玛丽，你就不会认为有朝一日她对我的魅力会消失。”
　　“我最亲爱的亨利，”玛丽嚷道，又突然打住，笑吟吟地望着他，“看到你这样一片痴情，我有多高兴啊！真让我欣喜万分。可是，拉什沃思太太和朱莉娅会怎么说呢？”
　　“我不管她们怎么说，也不管她们怎么想。她们现在会意识到什么样的女人能讨我喜欢，能讨一个有头脑的人喜欢。我希望这一发现会给她们带来益处。她们现在会意识到她们的表妹受到了应得的待遇，我希望她们会真心诚意地为自己以往可恶的怠慢和冷酷感到羞愧。她们会恼火的，”亨利顿了顿，又以比较冷静的口吻补充说，“拉什沃思太太会大为恼火。这对她来说像是一粒苦药，也就是说，像别的苦药一样，先要苦上一阵，然后咽下去，再忘掉。我不是一个没有头脑的花花公子，尽管我是她钟情的对象，可我并不认为她的感情会比别的女人来得长久。是的，玛丽，我的范妮的确会感受到一种变化，感受到她身边的每个人在态度上，每天每时都在发生变化。一想到这都是我引起的，是我把她的身份抬高到她应得的高度，我真是乐不可支了。而现在，她寄人篱下，孤苦伶仃，没亲没友，受人冷落，被人遗忘。”
　　“不，亨利，不是被所有的人，不是被所有的人遗忘，不是没亲没友，不是被人遗忘。她表哥埃德蒙从来没有忘记她。”
　　“埃德蒙——不错，总的说来，我认为他对她挺好，托马斯爵士对她也不错，不过那是一个有钱有势、唠唠叨叨、独断独行的姨父的关心。托马斯爵士和埃德蒙加在一起能为她做什么？他们为她的幸福、安逸、体面和尊严所做的事，比起我将要为她做的事，又算得了什么？”　

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 32楼发表于: 2013-10-29 0

Chapter Thirty-one

  Henry Crawford was at Mansfield Park again the next morning, and at an earlier hour than common visiting warrants. The two ladies were together in the breakfast-room, and, fortunately for him, Lady Bertram was on the very point of quitting it as he entered. She was almost at the door, and not chusing by any means to take so much trouble in vain, she still went on, after a civil reception, a short sentence about being waited for, and a "Let Sir Thomas know" to the servant.

  Henry, overjoyed to have her go, bowed and watched her off, and without losing another moment, turned instantly to Fanny, and, taking out some letters, said, with a most animated look, "I must acknowledge myself infinitely obliged to any creature who gives me such an opportunity of seeing you alone: I have been wishing it more than you can have any idea. Knowing as I do what your feelings as a sister are, I could hardly have borne that any one in the house should share with you in the first knowledge of the news I now bring. He is made. Your brother is a lieutenant. I have the infinite satisfaction of congratulating you on your brother's promotion. Here are the letters which announce it, this moment come to hand. You will, perhaps, like to see them."

  Fanny could not speak, but he did not want her to speak. To see the expression of her eyes, the change of her complexion, the progress of her feelings, their doubt, confusion, and felicity, was enough. She took the letters as he gave them. The first was from the Admiral to inform his nephew, in a few words, of his having succeeded in the object he had undertaken, the promotion of young Price, and enclosing two more, one from the Secretary of the First Lord to a friend, whom the Admiral had set to work in the business, the other from that friend to himself, by which it appeared that his lordship had the very great happiness of attending to the recommendation of Sir Charles; that Sir Charles was much delighted in having such an opportunity of proving his regard for Admiral Crawford, and that the circumstance of Mr. William Price's commission as Second Lieutenant of H.M. Sloop Thrush being made out was spreading general joy through a wide circle of great people.

  While her hand was trembling under these letters, her eye running from one to the other, and her heart swelling with emotion, Crawford thus continued, with unfeigned eagerness, to express his interest in the event--

  "I will not talk of my own happiness," said he, "great as it is, for I think only of yours. Compared with you, who has a right to be happy? I have almost grudged myself my own prior knowledge of what you ought to have known before all the world. I have not lost a moment, however. The post was late this morning, but there has not been since a moment's delay. How impatient, how anxious, how wild I have been on the subject, I will not attempt to describe; how severely mortified, how cruelly disappointed, in not having it finished while I was in London! I was kept there from day to day in the hope of it, for nothing less dear to me than such an object would have detained me half the time from Mansfield. But though my uncle entered into my wishes with all the warmth I could desire, and exerted himself immediately, there were difficulties from the absence of one friend, and the engagements of another, which at last I could no longer bear to stay the end of, and knowing in what good hands I left the cause, I came away on Monday, trusting that many posts would not pass before I should be followed by such very letters as these. My uncle, who is the very best man in the world, has exerted himself, as I knew he would, after seeing your brother. He was delighted with him. I would not allow myself yesterday to say how delighted, or to repeat half that the Admiral said in his praise. I deferred it all till his praise should be proved the praise of a friend, as this day _does_ prove it. _Now_ I may say that even I could not require William Price to excite a greater interest, or be followed by warmer wishes and higher commendation, than were most voluntarily bestowed by my uncle after the evening they had passed together."

  "Has this been all _your_ doing, then?" cried Fanny. "Good heaven! how very, very kind! Have you really-- was it by _your_ desire? I beg your pardon, but I am bewildered. Did Admiral Crawford apply? How was it? I am stupefied."

  Henry was most happy to make it more intelligible, by beginning at an earlier stage, and explaining very particularly what he had done. His last journey to London had been undertaken with no other view than that of introducing her brother in Hill Street, and prevailing on the Admiral to exert whatever interest he might have for getting him on. This had been his business. He had communicated it to no creature: he had not breathed a syllable of it even to Mary; while uncertain of the issue, he could not have borne any participation of his feelings, but this had been his business; and he spoke with such a glow of what his solicitude had been, and used such strong expressions, was so abounding in the _deepest_ _interest_, in _twofold_ _motives_, in _views_ _and_ _wishes_ _more_ _than_ _could_ _be_ _told_, that Fanny could not have remained insensible of his drift, had she been able to attend; but her heart was so full and her senses still so astonished, that she could listen but imperfectly even to what he told her of William, and saying only when he paused, "How kind! how very kind! Oh, Mr. Crawford, we are infinitely obliged to you! Dearest, dearest William!" She jumped up and moved in haste towards the door, crying out, "I will go to my uncle. My uncle ought to know it as soon as possible." But this could not be suffered. The opportunity was too fair, and his feelings too impatient. He was after her immediately. "She must not go, she must allow him five minutes longer," and he took her hand and led her back to her seat, and was in the middle of his farther explanation, before she had suspected for what she was detained. When she did understand it, however, and found herself expected to believe that she had created sensations which his heart had never known before, and that everything he had done for William was to be placed to the account of his excessive and unequalled attachment to her, she was exceedingly distressed, and for some moments unable to speak. She considered it all as nonsense, as mere trifling and gallantry, which meant only to deceive for the hour; she could not but feel that it was treating her improperly and unworthily, and in such a way as she had not deserved; but it was like himself, and entirely of a piece with what she had seen before; and she would not allow herself to shew half the displeasure she felt, because he had been conferring an obligation, which no want of delicacy on his part could make a trifle to her. While her heart was still bounding with joy and gratitude on William's behalf, she could not be severely resentful of anything that injured only herself; and after having twice drawn back her hand, and twice attempted in vain to turn away from him, she got up, and said only, with much agitation, "Don't, Mr. Crawford, pray don't! I beg you would not. This is a sort of talking which is very unpleasant to me. I must go away. I cannot bear it." But he was still talking on, describing his affection, soliciting a return, and, finally, in words so plain as to bear but one meaning even to her, offering himself, hand, fortune, everything, to her acceptance. It was so; he had said it. Her astonishment and confusion increased; and though still not knowing how to suppose him serious, she could hardly stand. He pressed for an answer.

  "No, no, no!" she cried, hiding her face. "This is all nonsense. Do not distress me. I can hear no more of this. Your kindness to William makes me more obliged to you than words can express; but I do not want, I cannot bear, I must not listen to such--No, no, don't think of me. But you are _not_ thinking of me. I know it is all nothing."

  She had burst away from him, and at that moment Sir Thomas was heard speaking to a servant in his way towards the room they were in. It was no time for farther assurances or entreaty, though to part with her at a moment when her modesty alone seemed, to his sanguine and preassured mind, to stand in the way of the happiness he sought, was a cruel necessity. She rushed out at an opposite door from the one her uncle was approaching, and was walking up and down the East room ill the utmost confusion of contrary feeling, before Sir Thomas's politeness or apologies were over, or he had reached the beginning of the joyful intelligence which his visitor came to communicate.

  She was feeling, thinking, trembling about everything; agitated, happy, miserable, infinitely obliged, absolutely angry. It was all beyond belief! He was inexcusable, incomprehensible! But such were his habits that he could do nothing without a mixture of evil. He had previously made her the happiest of human beings, and now he had insulted--she knew not what to say, how to class, or how to regard it. She would not have him be serious, and yet what could excuse the use of such words and offers, if they meant but to trifle?

  But William was a lieutenant. _That_ was a fact beyond a doubt, and without an alloy. She would think of it for ever and forget all the rest. Mr. Crawford would certainly never address her so again: he must have seen how unwelcome it was to her; and in that case, how gratefully she could esteem him for his friendship to William!

  She would not stir farther from the East room than the head of the great staircase, till she had satisfied herself of Mr. Crawford's having left the house; but when convinced of his being gone, she was eager to go down and be with her uncle, and have all the happiness of his joy as well as her own, and all the benefit of his information or his conjectures as to what would now be William's destination. Sir Thomas was as joyful as she could desire, and very kind and communicative; and she had so comfortable a talk with him about William as to make her feel as if nothing had occurred to vex her, till she found, towards the close, that Mr. Crawford was engaged to return and dine there that very day. This was a most unwelcome hearing, for though he might think nothing of what had passed, it would be quite distressing to her to see him again so soon.

  She tried to get the better of it; tried very hard, as the dinner hour approached, to feel and appear as usual; but it was quite impossible for her not to look most shy and uncomfortable when their visitor entered the room. She could not have supposed it in the power of any concurrence of circumstances to give her so many painful sensations on the first day of hearing of William's promotion.

  Mr. Crawford was not only in the room--he was soon close to her. He had a note to deliver from his sister. Fanny could not look at him, but there was no consciousness of past folly in his voice. She opened her note immediately, glad to have anything to do, and happy, as she read it, to feel that the fidgetings of her aunt Norris, who was also to dine there, screened her a little from view.

"My dear Fanny,
--for so I may now always call you, to the infinite relief of a tongue that has been stumbling at _Miss_ _Price_ for at least the last six weeks-- I cannot let my brother go without sending you a few lines of general congratulation, and giving my most joyful consent and approval. Go on, my dear Fanny, and without fear; there can be no difficulties worth naming. I chuse to suppose that the assurance of my consent will be something; so you may smile upon him with your sweetest smiles this afternoon, and send him back to me even happier than he goes --

Yours affectionately, M. C.

  These were not expressions to do Fanny any good; for though she read in too much haste and confusion to form the clearest judgment of Miss Crawford's meaning, it was evident that she meant to compliment her on her brother's attachment, and even to _appear_ to believe it serious. She did not know what to do, or what to think. There was wretchedness in the idea of its being serious; there was perplexity and agitation every way. She was distressed whenever Mr. Crawford spoke to her, and he spoke to her much too often; and she was afraid there was a something in his voice and manner in addressing her very different from what they were when he talked to the others. Her comfort in that day's dinner was quite destroyed: she could hardly eat anything; and when Sir Thomas good-humouredly observed that joy had taken away her appetite, she was ready to sink with shame, from the dread of Mr. Crawford's interpretation; for though nothing could have tempted her to turn her eyes to the right hand, where he sat, she felt that _his_ were immediately directed towards her.

  She was more silent than ever. She would hardly join even when William was the subject, for his commission came all from the right hand too, and there was pain in the connexion.

  She thought Lady Bertram sat longer than ever, and began to be in despair of ever getting away; but at last they were in the drawing-room, and she was able to think as she would, while her aunts finished the subject of William's appointment in their own style.

  Mrs. Norris seemed as much delighted with the saving it would be to Sir Thomas as with any part of it. "_Now_ William would be able to keep himself, which would make a vast difference to his uncle, for it was unknown how much he had cost his uncle; and, indeed, it would make some difference in _her_ presents too. She was very glad that she had given William what she did at parting, very glad, indeed, that it had been in her power, without material inconvenience, just at that time to give him something rather considerable; that is, for_her_, with _her_ limited means, for now it would all be useful in helping to fit up his cabin. She knew he must be at some expense, that he would have many things to buy, though to be sure his father and mother would be able to put him in the way of getting everything very cheap; 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 1 well lined, and at no expense for his journey to London either!"

  "Sir Thomas told me 10 would be enough."

  Mrs. Norris, being not at all inclined to question its sufficiency, began to take the matter in another point.

  "It is amazing," said she, "how much young people cost their friends, what with bringing them up and putting them out in the world! They little think how much it comes to, or what their parents, or their uncles and aunts, pay for them in the course of the year. Now, here are my sister Price's children; take them all together, I dare say nobody would believe what a sum they cost Sir Thomas every year, to say nothing of what _I_ do for them."

  "Very true, sister, as you say. But, poor things! 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."

  Fanny, meanwhile, speaking only when she could not help it, was very earnestly trying to understand what Mr. and Miss Crawford were at. There was everything in the world _against_ their being serious but his words and manner. Everything natural, probable, reasonable, was against it; all their habits and ways of thinking, and all her own demerits. How could _she_ have excited serious attachment in a man who had seen so many, and been admired by so many, and flirted with so many, infinitely her superiors; who seemed so little open to serious impressions, even where pains had been taken to please him; who thought so slightly, so carelessly, so unfeelingly on all such points; who was everything to everybody, and seemed to find no one essential to him? And farther, how could it be supposed that his sister, with all her high and worldly notions of matrimony, would be forwarding anything of a serious nature in such a quarter? Nothing could be more unnatural in either. Fanny was ashamed of her own doubts. Everything might be possible rather than serious attachment, or serious approbation of it toward her. She had quite convinced herself of this before Sir Thomas and Mr. Crawford joined them. The difficulty was in maintaining the conviction quite so absolutely after Mr. Crawford was in the room; for once or twice a look seemed forced on her which she did not know how to class among the common meaning; in any other man, at least, she would have said that it meant something very earnest, very pointed. But she still tried to believe it no more than what he might often have expressed towards her cousins and fifty other women.

  She thought he was wishing to speak to her unheard by the rest. She fancied he was trying for it the whole evening at intervals, whenever Sir Thomas was out of the room, or at all engaged with Mrs. Norris, and she carefully refused him every opportunity.

  At last--it seemed an at last to Fanny's nervousness, though not remarkably late--he began to talk of going away; but the comfort of the sound was impaired by his turning to her the next moment, and saying, "Have you nothing to send to Mary? No answer to her note? She will be disappointed if she receives nothing from you. Pray write to her, if it be only a line."

  "Oh yes! certainly," cried Fanny, rising in haste, the haste of embarrassment and of wanting to get away-- "I will write directly."

  She went accordingly to the table, where she was in the habit of writing for her aunt, and prepared her materials without knowing what in the world to say. She had read Miss Crawford's note only once, and how to reply to anything so imperfectly understood was most distressing. Quite unpractised in such sort of note-writing, had there been time for scruples and fears as to style she would have felt them in abundance: but something must be instantly written; and with only one decided feeling, that of wishing not to appear to think anything really intended, she wrote thus, in great trembling both of spirits and hand--

  "I am very much obliged to you, my dear Miss Crawford, for your kind congratulations, as far as they relate to my dearest William. The rest of your note I know means nothing; but I am so unequal to anything of the sort, that I hope you will excuse my begging you to take no farther notice. I have seen too much of Mr. Crawford not to understand his manners; if he understood me as well, he would, I dare say, behave differently. I do not know what I write, but it would be a great favour of you never to mention the subject again. With thanks for the honour of your note, I remain, dear Miss Crawford, etc., etc."

  The conclusion was scarcely intelligible from increasing fright, for she found that Mr. Crawford, under pretence of receiving the note, was coming towards her.

  "You cannot think I mean to hurry you," said he, in an undervoice, perceiving the amazing trepidation with which she made up the note, "you cannot think I have any such object. Do not hurry yourself, I entreat."

  "Oh! I thank you; I have quite done, just done; it will be ready in a moment; I am very much obliged to you; if you will be so good as to give _that_ to Miss Crawford."

  The note was held out, and must be taken; and as she instantly and with averted eyes walked towards the fireplace, where sat the others, he had nothing to do but to go in good earnest.

  Fanny thought she had never known a day of greater agitation, both of pain and pleasure; but happily the pleasure was not of a sort to die with the day; for every day would restore the knowledge of William's advancement, whereas the pain, she hoped, would return no more. She had no doubt that her note must appear excessively ill-written, that the language would disgrace a child, for her distress had allowed no arrangement; but at least it would assure them both of her being neither imposed on nor gratified by Mr. Crawford's attentions.

　　第二天上午，亨利·克劳福德又来到了曼斯菲尔德庄园，而且到的比平常访亲拜友的时间要早。两位女士都在早餐厅里。幸运的是，他进来的时候，伯特伦夫人正要出去。她差不多走到门口了，也不想白走这么远再折回去，于是便客气地打了个招呼，说了声有人等她，吩咐仆人“禀报托马斯爵士”，然后继续往外走。
　　亨利见她要走喜不自禁，躬身行了个礼，目送她走去，然后便抓紧时机，立即转身走到范妮跟前，掏出了几封信，眉飞色舞地说：“我必须承认，无论谁给我个机会让我与你单独相见，我都感激不尽：你想不到我是怎样在盼望这样一个机会。我了解你做妹妹的心情，不希望这一家的任何人与你同时得到我现在给你带来的消息。他晋升了。你哥哥当上少尉了。我怀着无比高兴的心情，向你祝贺你哥哥晋升。这是这些信上说的，都是刚刚收到的。你也许想看看吧。”
　　范妮说不出话来，不过他也不需要她说话。看看她的眼神，脸色的变化，心情的演变，由怀疑，到慌张，到欣喜，也就足够了。范妮把信接了过去。第一封是海军将军写给侄子的，只有寥寥数语，告诉侄子说，他把提升小普莱斯的事办成了。里边还附了两封信，一封是海军大臣的秘书写给将军委托的朋友的，另一封是那位朋友写给将军本人的。从信里可以看出，海军大臣非常高兴地批阅了查尔斯爵士的推荐信，查尔斯爵士很高兴有这么个机会向克劳福德将军表示自己的敬意，威廉·普莱斯先生被任命为英国皇家轻巡洋舰“画眉”号的少尉这一消息传出后，不少要人都为之高兴。
　　范妮的手在信纸下边颤抖，眼睛从这封信看到那封，心里激动不已。克劳福德情急心切地继续表白他在这件事情上所起的作用。
　　“我不想谈我自己如何高兴，”他说，“尽管我欣喜万分。我只想到你的幸福。与你相比，谁还配得上幸福呢？这件事本该是让你最先知道的，我并不愿意比你先知道。不过，我是一刻也没耽搁呀。今天早上邮件来迟了，但我收到后一分钟也没耽搁。我在这件事上如何焦急，如何不安，如何发狂，我不打算描述。在伦敦期间还没有办成，我真是羞愧难当，失望至极啊！我一天又一天地待在那里，就是盼望办成这件事，如果不是为了这样一件对我来说至关重要的事情，我决不会离开曼斯菲尔德这么长时间。但是，尽管我叔父满腔热情地答应了我的要求，立即着手操办起来，可是依然有些困难，一个朋友不在家，另一个朋友有事脱不了身，我想等最后也等不下去了，心想事情已经托给可靠的入，便于星期一动身回来了，相信要不了几天就会收到这样的信。我叔叔是世上最好的人，他可是尽心尽力了，我就知道，他见到你哥哥之后是会尽力帮忙的。他喜欢你哥哥。昨天我没有告诉你将军是多么喜欢他，也没有怎么透露将军怎样夸奖他。我要拖一拖再说，等到他的夸奖被证明是来自朋友的夸奖。今天算是得到了证明。现在我可以告诉你，连我都没有料到，他们那天晚上相会之后，我叔父会对威廉·普莱斯那么感兴趣，对他的事情那么热心，又对他那样称赞。这一切完全是我叔父自愿表示出来的。”
　　“那么，这一切都是你努力的结果吧？”范妮嚷道。“天哪！太好了，真是太好啦！你真的——真的是你提出来的吧？请原谅，我给搞糊涂了。是克劳福德将军要求的吗？是怎么办成的？我给搞糊涂了。”
　　亨利兴致勃勃地做了说明，从早一些时候讲起，着重解释了他起的作用。他这次去伦敦没有别的事情，只想把她哥哥引荐到希尔街，劝说将军尽量运用他的关系帮他晋升。这就是他的使命。他对谁都没说起过，甚至对玛丽都只字未提。他当时还不能肯定结果如何，因而不想让别人知道他的心思。不过，这就是他的使命。他大为感慨地讲起他如何关心这件事，用了那么热烈的字眼，尽是什么“最深切的关心”，“双重的动机”，“不便说出的目的和愿望”，范妮要是注意听的话，是不会总也听不出他的意思的。然而，她由于惊喜交集、无暇他顾，就连他讲到威廉的时候，她都听不完全，等他停下来时，她只是说： “多好的心啊！多么好的心啊！噢！克劳福德先生，我们对你感激不尽。最亲爱的，最亲爱的威廉啊！”她霍地站起来，匆匆向门口走去，一边嚷道：“我要去见姨父。应该尽快让姨父知道。”但是，这可不成。这是个千载难逢的良机，亨利心里已经迫不及待了。他立即追了上去。“你不能走，你得再给我五分钟。”说着抓住了她的手，把她领回到座位上，又向她解释了一番．她还没有明白为什么不让她走。然而，等她明白过来，发现对方说什么她已引起了他从来不曾有过的感情，他为威廉所做的一切都是出于对她的无限的、无可比拟的爱，她感到万分痛苦，很久说不出活来。她认为这一切实在荒谬，只不过是骗人的逢场作戏、献殷勤。她感到这是用不正当、不体面的手法对待她，她不应该受到这样的对待。不过，这正符合他的为人，与她所见到的他以往的行径如出一辙。可她还是抑制住自己，尽量不把心里的不快流露出来，因为他毕竟有恩于她，不管他怎样粗俗放浪，她都不能轻慢小看这番恩情。这时，她一颗心还在扑扑直跳，光顾得为威廉高兴，为威廉感到庆幸，而对于仅仅伤害自己的事情，却不会怨恨不已。她两次把手缩回来，两次想摆脱他而没摆脱掉，便站了起来，非常激动地说：“不要这样，克劳福德先生，请你不要这样。我求你不要这样。我不喜欢这样的谈话。我得走了。我受不了。”可是对方还在说，倾诉他的钟情，求她给以回报，最后，话已说得十分露骨，连范妮也听出了个中意思：他把他的人，他的一生，他的财产，他的一切都献给她，要她接受。就是这个意思，他已经说出来了。范妮愈来愈感到惊讶，愈来愈心慌意乱。虽然还拿不准他的话是真是假，她几乎站不住了。对方催她答复。
　　“不，不，不，”范妮捂着脸叫道。“这完全是无稽之谈。不要惹我苦恼了。我不要再听这样的话了。你对威廉的好处使我说不出对你有多感激。但是，我不需要，受不了，也不想听你这些话——不，不，不要动我的心思。不过，你也不在动我的心思。我知道这是没有的事儿。”
　　她已经挣脱了他。这当儿，托马斯爵士正在向他们这间屋子走来，只听他在跟一个仆人说话。这就来不及再诉爱求情了，不过亨利过于乐观自信，觉得她只不过是由于故作娇羞，才没有让他立即得到他所追求的幸福，在这个节骨眼上跟她分手，未免有些太残酷了。她姨父朝这个门走来，她以对面那个门冲出去。托马斯爵士与客人还没寒暄完，或者说客人刚刚开始向他报告他带来的喜讯，她已经在东屋里走来走去了，心里极其矛盾，也极其混乱。
　　她在思索、在捉摸每一桩事，也为每一桩事担忧。她激动，快活，苦闷，感激不尽，恼火至极。这一切简直令人难以置信！克劳福德不可原谅，也不可理解！不过，这是他的一贯行径，做什么事都掺杂点邪念。他先使她成为世上最快活的人，后来又侮辱了她——她不知道怎样说为好——不知道怎样分析、怎样看待这件事。她想把他看做耍儿戏，但若真是耍儿戏，为什么要说这样一些话，做出这样的许愿呢？
　　不过，威廉当上了少尉。这可是毋庸置疑、毫不掺假的事实。她愿永远牢记这一点，忘掉其余的一切。克劳福德先生肯定再也不会向她求爱了，他肯定看出对方是多么不欢迎他这样做。若是如此，就凭他对威廉的帮助，她该如何感激他呀！
　　在没有肯定克劳福德先生已经离开这座房子之前，她的活动范围从不超过从东屋到中间楼梯口。可等她确信他走了之后，她便急忙下楼去找姨父，跟他分享彼此的喜悦之情，听他讲解或猜测威廉现在会去什么地方。托马斯爵士正如她期望的那样不胜高兴，他还非常慈爱，话也很多。她和他谈起了威廉，谈得非常投机，使她忘记了先前令她烦恼的事情。可是，等谈话快结束的时候，她发现克劳福德先生已约定当天还要回到这里吃饭。这可是个令她极其扫兴的消息。虽然他可能不会把已经过去的事放在心上，但是这么快又见到他使她感到十分别扭。
　　她试图让自己平静下来。快到吃晚饭的时候，她尽量使自己心里感觉像平常一样，外表看上去也像平常一样。但是，等客人进屋的时候，她又情不由己地显得极为羞怯，极不自在。她万万没有想到，在听到威廉晋升的第一天，居然会有什么事情搅得她如此痛苦。
　　克劳福德先生不只是进到屋里，而且很快来到了她跟前。他把她妹妹的一封信转交给她。范妮不敢看他，但从他的声音中听不出为上次说的蠢话感到羞愧。她立即把信拆开，很高兴能有点事情做做。还使她感到高兴的是，诺里斯姨妈也来吃饭，她不停地动来动去，范妮读信时觉得受到了一点遮掩。

亲爱的范妮：
　　从现在起我可能要永远这样称呼你，以使我的舌头得到彻底的解放，不要再像过去那样，笨拙地叫了你至少六个星期的普莱斯小姐——我要写上几句话叫我哥哥带给你，向你表示热烈的祝贺，并且万分高兴地表示我的赞成和支持。勇往直前吧，亲爱的范妮，不要畏惧。没有什么了不起的障碍。我自信我表示赞成会起一定作用。因此，今天下午你就拿出你最甜蜜的微笑对他笑脸相迎吧，让他回来的时候比去时更加幸福。
　　

你亲爱的
　　玛·克

　　这些话对范妮没有丝毫的帮助。她匆匆地读着信，心里乱糟糟的，猜不透克劳福德小姐信里的意思，但是看得出来，她是在祝贺她赢得了她哥哥的钟情，甚至看来好像信以为真似的。她不知所措，莫衷一是。一想到这是真的，便为之愁苦不堪，怎么都想不通，心里只觉得忐忑不安。克劳福德先生每次跟她说话，她都感到烦恼，而他又偏偏爱跟她说话。她觉得他跟她说话的时候，从口气到态度都有点特别，与他跟别人说话的时候大不相同。她这天吃饭的胃口给破坏殆尽，几乎什么都吃不下去。托马斯爵士开玩笑说，她是高兴得吃不下饭，她羞得快挺不住了，生怕克劳福德先生对她姨父的话有别的领会。他就坐在她的右手，虽然她一眼也不想看他，但她觉得他的眼睛却一直在盯着她。
　　她比什么时候都沉默寡言，就连谈到威廉的时候，也很少开口，因为他的晋升完全是坐在她右手的这个人周旋的结果，一联想到这一点，她就感到凄楚难言。
　　她觉得伯特伦夫人比哪次坐席都久，担心这次宴席永远散不了。不过，大家终于来到了客厅，两位姨妈以自己的方式谈起威廉的任命，这时范妮才有机会去想自己愿意想的事情。
　　诺里斯太太所以对这件事感到高兴，主要是因为这给托马斯爵士省了钱。“现在威廉可以自己养活自己了，这对他二姨父来说可就非同小可了，因为谁也说不准他二姨父为他破费了多少。说实在的，今后我也可以少送东西了。我很高兴，这次威廉走的时候给他送了点东西。我的确感到很高兴，当时在手头不太拮据的情况下，还能给他送了点像样的东西。对我来说是很像样，因为我家财力有限，现在要是用来布置他的房舱，那东西可就有了用场了。我知道他要花些钱，要买不少东西，虽然他父母会帮他把样样东西都买得很便宜，但我很高兴我也尽了点心。”
　　“我很高兴你给了他点像样的东西，”伯特伦夫人对她的话深信不疑，平平静静地说道。“我只给了他十英镑。”
　　“真的呀！”诺里斯太太脸红起来，嚷道。“我敢说，他走的时候口袋里肯定装满了钱！再说，去伦敦的路上也不要他花钱呀！”
　　“托马斯爵士对我说给他十英镑就够了。”
　　诺里斯太太无意探究十英镑够还是不够，却从另一个角度看待这个问题。
　　“真令人吃惊，”她说，“看看这些年轻人，从把他们抚养成人，到帮他们进入社会，朋友们要为他们花多少钱啊！他们很少去想这些钱加起来会有多少，也很少去想他们的父母、姨父姨妈一年要为他们花多少钱。就拿我普莱斯妹妹家的孩子来说吧，把他们加到一起，我敢说谁也不敢相信每年要花托马斯爵士多少钱，还不算我给他们的补贴。”
　　“你说得一点不错，姐姐。不过，孩子们真可怜呀！他们也是没办法。再说你也知道，这对托马斯爵士来说，也算不了什么。范妮，威廉要是到东印度群岛去的话，叫他别忘了给我带一条披巾。还有什么别的好东西，我也托他给我买。我希望他去东印度群岛，这样我就会有披巾了。我想要两条披巾，范妮。”
　　这当儿，范妮只有迫不得已时才说话。她一心急于弄明白克劳福德兄妹俩打的什么主意。除了那哥哥的话和态度之外，无论从哪方面来看，他们都不会是真心实意的。考虑到他们的习性和思想方法，以及她本人的不利条件，从哪方面来看，这件事都是不合常情的，说不过去，也不大可能。他见过多少女人，受过多少女人的爱慕，跟多少女人调过情，而这些女人都比她强得多。人家费尽心机地想取悦他，都没法打动他。他把这种事情看得这么淡，总是满不在乎，无动于衷。别人都觉得他了不起，他却似乎瞧不起任何人。她怎么会激起这样一个人真心爱她呢？而且，他妹妹在婚姻问题上讲究门第，看重利益，怎么能设想她会认真促成这样一件事呢？他们两个表现得太反常了。范妮越想越感到羞愧。什么事情都有可能，唯独他不可能真心爱她，他妹妹也不可能真心赞成他爱她。托马斯爵士和克劳福德先生没来客厅之前，她对此已经深信不疑了。克劳福德先生进来之后，她又难以对此坚信不移了，因为他有一两次投向她的目光，她无法将之归结为一般的意思。至少，若是别人这样看她，她会说那蕴涵着一种十分恳切、十分明显的情意。但她仍然尽力把这看做他对她的两位表姐和众多别的女人经常施展的手段。
　　她感到他就想背着别人跟她说话。她觉得，整个晚上每逢托马斯爵士出去的时候，或者每逢托马斯爵士跟诺里斯太太谈得起劲的时候，他就在寻找这样的机会，不过她总是谨慎地躲着他，不给他任何机会。
　　最后——似乎范妮的忐忑不安终于结束了，不过结束得不算太晚——他提出要走了。范妮一听这话如释重负，然而霎时间他又转过脸来，对她说道：“你没有什么东西捎给玛丽吗？不给她封回信吗？她要是什么都收不到的话，是会失望的。给她写个回信吧，哪怕只写一行也好。”
　　“噢！是的，当然，”范妮嚷道，一边匆忙站起来，急于摆脱这种窘迫，急于赶紧走开。“我这就去写。”
　　于是她走到她常替姨妈写信的桌边，提笔准备写信，可又压根儿不知道写什么是好！克劳福德小姐的信她只看过一遍，本来就没看明白，要答复实在令人伤脑筋。她从没写过这种信，如果还来得及对信的格调产生疑虑的话，那她真会疑虑重重。但是必须马上写出点东西来。她心里只有一个明确的念头，那就是希望对方读后不会觉得她真的有意。她动笔写了起来，身心都在激烈地颤抖：
　　亲爱的克劳福德小姐，非常感谢你对最亲爱的威廉的事表示衷心的祝贺。信的其余内容，在我看来毫无意义。对于这种事情，我深感不配，希望今后不要再提。我和克劳福德先生相识已久，深知他的为人。他若对我同样了解的话，想必不会有此举动。临笔惶然，不知所云，倘能不再提及此事，定会不胜感激。承蒙来信，谨致谢忱。
　　亲爱的克劳福德小姐，永远是你的……
　　结尾到底写了些什么，她在慌乱中也搞不清楚了，因为她发现，克劳福德先生借口取信向她走来。
　　“不要以为我是来催你的，”他看她惊慌失措地将信折叠装封，压低了声音说。“不要以为我有这个意思。我恳求你不要着急。”
　　“噢！谢谢你，我已经写完了，刚刚写完～—马上就好了——我将非常感激你——如果你能把这封信转交给克劳福德小姐。”
　　信递过来了，只好接下。范妮立即别过脸朝众人围坐的炉边走去，克劳福德先生无事可做，只好一本正经地走掉了。
　　范妮觉得她从来没有这样激动过，既为痛苦而激动，又为快乐而激动。不过，所幸的是，这种快乐不会随着这一天过去而消逝——因为她天天都不会忘怀威廉的晋升，而那痛苦，她希望会一去不复返。她毫不怀疑，她的信肯定写得糟糕透顶，语句还不如一个孩子组织得好，谁叫她心烦意乱的，根本无法斟酌推敲。不过，这封信会让他们两人都明白，克劳福德先生的百般殷勤既骗不了她，也不会让她为之得意。　

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一二三四五六七~~~

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Chapter Thirty-two

  Fanny had by no means forgotten Mr. Crawford when she awoke the next morning; but she remembered the purport of her note, and was not less sanguine as to its effect than she had been the night before. If Mr. Crawford would but go away! That was what she most earnestly desired: go and take his sister with him, as he was to do, and as he returned to Mansfield on purpose to do. And why it was not done already she could not devise, for Miss Crawford certainly wanted no delay. Fanny had hoped, in the course of his yesterday's visit, to hear the day named; but he had only spoken of their journey as what would take place ere long.

  Having so satisfactorily settled the conviction her note would convey, she could not but be astonished to see Mr. Crawford, as she accidentally did, coming up to the house again, and at an hour as early as the day before. His coming might have nothing to do with her, but she must avoid seeing him if possible; and being then on her way upstairs, she resolved there to remain, during the whole of his visit, unless actually sent for; and as Mrs. Norris was still in the house, there seemed little danger of her being wanted.

  She sat some time in a good deal of agitation, listening, trembling, and fearing to be sent for every moment; but as no footsteps approached the East room, she grew gradually composed, could sit down, and be able to employ herself, and able to hope that Mr. Crawford had come and would go without her being obliged to know anything of the matter.

  Nearly half an hour had passed, and she was growing very comfortable, when suddenly the sound of a step in regular approach was heard; a heavy step, an unusual step in that part of the house: it was her uncle's; she knew it as well as his voice; she had trembled at it as often, and began to tremble again, at the idea of his coming up to speak to her, whatever might be the subject. It was indeed Sir Thomas who opened the door and asked if she were there, and if he might come in. The terror of his former occasional visits to that room seemed all renewed, and she felt as if he were going to examine her again in French and English.

  She was all attention, however, in placing a chair for him, and trying to appear honoured; and, in her agitation, had quite overlooked the deficiencies of her apartment, till he, stopping short as he entered, said, with much surprise, "Why have you no fire to-day?"

  There was snow on the ground, and she was sitting in a shawl. She hesitated.

  "I am not cold, sir: I never sit here long at this time of year."

  "But you have a fire in general?"

  "No, sir."

  "How comes this about? Here must be some mistake. I understood that you had the use of this room by way of making you perfectly comfortable. In your bedchamber I know you _cannot_ have a fire. Here is some great misapprehension which must be rectified. It is highly unfit for you to sit, be it only half an hour a day, without a fire. You are not strong. You are chilly. Your aunt cannot be aware of this."

  Fanny would rather have been silent; but being obliged to speak, she could not forbear, in justice to the aunt she loved best, from saying something in which the words "my aunt Norris" were distinguishable.

  "I understand," cried her uncle, recollecting himself, and not wanting to hear more: "I understand. Your aunt Norris has always been an advocate, and very judiciously, for young people's being brought up without unnecessary indulgences; but there should be moderation in everything. She is also very hardy herself, which of course will influence her in her opinion of the wants of others. And on another account, too, I can perfectly comprehend. I know what her sentiments have always been. The principle was good in itself, but it may have been, and I believe _has_ _been_, carried too far in your case. I am aware that there has been sometimes, in some points, a misplaced distinction; but I think too well of you, Fanny, to suppose you will ever harbour resentment on that account. You have an understanding which will prevent you from receiving things only in part, and judging partially by the event. You will take in the whole of the past, you will consider times, persons, and probabilities, and you will feel that _they_ were not least your friends who were educating and preparing you for that mediocrity of condition which _seemed_ to be your lot. Though their caution may prove eventually unnecessary, it was kindly meant; and of this you may be assured, that every advantage of affluence will be doubled by the little privations and restrictions that may have been imposed. I am sure you will not disappoint my opinion of you, by failing at any time to treat your aunt Norris with the respect and attention that are due to her. But enough of this. Sit down, my dear. I must speak to you for a few minutes, but I will not detain you long."

  Fanny obeyed, with eyes cast down and colour rising. After a moment's pause, Sir Thomas, trying to suppress a smile, went on.

  "You are not aware, perhaps, that I have had a visitor this morning. I had not been long in my own room, after breakfast, when Mr. Crawford was shewn in. His errand you may probably conjecture."

  Fanny's colour grew deeper and deeper; and her uncle, perceiving that she was embarrassed to a degree that made either speaking or looking up quite impossible, turned away his own eyes, and without any farther pause proceeded in his account of Mr. Crawford's visit.

  Mr. Crawford's business had been to declare himself the lover of Fanny, make decided proposals for her, and entreat the sanction of the uncle, who seemed to stand in the place of her parents; and he had done it all so well, so openly, so liberally, so properly, that Sir Thomas, feeling, moreover, his own replies, and his own remarks to have been very much to the purpose, was exceedingly happy to give the particulars of their conversation; and little aware of what was passing in his niece's mind, conceived that by such details he must be gratifying her far more than himself. He talked, therefore, for several minutes without Fanny's daring to interrupt him. She had hardly even attained the wish to do it. Her mind was in too much confusion. She had changed her position; and, with her eyes fixed intently on one of the windows, was listening to her uncle in the utmost perturbation and dismay. For a moment he ceased, but she had barely become conscious of it, when, rising from his chair, he said, "And now, Fanny, having performed one part of my commission, and shewn you everything placed on a basis the most assured and satisfactory, I may execute the remainder by prevailing on you to accompany me downstairs, where, though I cannot but presume on having been no unacceptable companion myself, I must submit to your finding one still better worth listening to. Mr. Crawford, as you have perhaps foreseen, is yet in the house. He is in my room, and hoping to see you there."

  There was a look, a start, an exclamation on hearing this, which astonished Sir Thomas; but what was his increase of astonishment on hearing her exclaim--"Oh! no, sir, I cannot, indeed I cannot go down to him. Mr. Crawford ought to know-- he must know that: I told him enough yesterday to convince him; he spoke to me on this subject yesterday, and I told him without disguise that it was very disagreeable to me, and quite out of my power to return his good opinion."

  "I do not catch your meaning," said Sir Thomas, sitting down again. "Out of your power to return his good opinion? What is all this? I know he spoke to you yesterday, and (as far as I understand) received as much encouragement to proceed as a well-judging young woman could permit herself to give. I was very much pleased with what I collected to have been your behaviour on the occasion; it shewed a discretion highly to be commended. But now, when he has made his overtures so properly, and honourably-- what are your scruples _now_?"

  "You are mistaken, sir," cried Fanny, forced by the anxiety of the moment even to tell her uncle that he was wrong; "you are quite mistaken. How could Mr. Crawford say such a thing? I gave him no encouragement yesterday. On the contrary, I told him, I cannot recollect my exact words, but I am sure I told him that I would not listen to him, that it was very unpleasant to me in every respect, and that I begged him never to talk to me in that manner again. I am sure I said as much as that and more; and I should have said still more, if I had been quite certain of his meaning anything seriously; but I did not like to be, I could not bear to be, imputing more than might be intended. I thought it might all pass for nothing with _him_."

  She could say no more; her breath was almost gone.

  "Am I to understand," said Sir Thomas, after a few moments' silence, "that you mean to _refuse_ Mr. Crawford?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Refuse him?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Refuse Mr. Crawford! Upon what plea? For what reason?"

  "I--I cannot like him, sir, well enough to marry him."

  "This is very strange!" said Sir Thomas, in a voice of calm displeasure. "There is something in this which my comprehension does not reach. Here is a young man wishing to pay his addresses to you, with everything to recommend him: not merely situation in life, fortune, and character, but with more than common agreeableness, with address and conversation pleasing to everybody. And he is not an acquaintance of to-day; you have now known him some time. His sister, moreover, is your intimate friend, and he has been doing _that_ for your brother, which I should suppose would have been almost sufficient recommendation to you, had there been no other. It is very uncertain when my interest might have got William on. He has done it already."

  "Yes," said Fanny, in a faint voice, and looking down with fresh shame; and she did feel almost ashamed of herself, after such a picture as her uncle had drawn, for not liking Mr. Crawford.

  "You must have been aware," continued Sir Thomas presently, "you must have been some time aware of a particularity in Mr. Crawford's manners to you. This cannot have taken you by surprise. You must have observed his attentions; and though you always received them very properly (I have no accusation to make on that head), I never perceived them to be unpleasant to you. I am half inclined to think, Fanny, that you do not quite know your own feelings."

  "Oh yes, sir! indeed I do. His attentions were always-- what I did not like."

  Sir Thomas looked at her with deeper surprise. "This is beyond me," said he. "This requires explanation. Young as you are, and having seen scarcely any one, it is hardly possible that your affections--"

  He paused and eyed her fixedly. He saw her lips formed into a _no_, though the sound was inarticulate, but her face was like scarlet. That, however, in so modest a girl, might be very compatible with innocence; and chusing at least to appear satisfied, he quickly added, "No, no, I know _that_ is quite out of the question; quite impossible. Well, there is nothing more to be said."

  And for a few minutes he did say nothing. He was deep in thought. His niece was deep in thought likewise, trying to harden and prepare herself against farther questioning. She would rather die than own the truth; and she hoped, by a little reflection, to fortify herself beyond betraying it.

  "Independently of the interest which Mr. Crawford's _choice_ seemed to justify" said Sir Thomas, beginning again, and very composedly, "his wishing to marry at all so early is recommendatory to me. I am an advocate for early marriages, where there are means in proportion, and would have every young man, with a sufficient income, settle as soon after four-and-twenty as he can. This is so much my opinion, that I am sorry to think how little likely my own eldest son, your cousin, Mr. Bertram, is to marry early; but at present, as far as I can judge, matrimony makes no part of his plans or thoughts. I wish he were more likely to fix." Here was a glance at Fanny. "Edmund, I consider, from his dispositions and habits, as much more likely to marry early than his brother. _He_, indeed, I have lately thought, has seen the woman he could love, which, I am convinced, my eldest son has not. Am I right? Do you agree with me, my dear?"

  "Yes, sir."

  It was gently, but it was calmly said, and Sir Thomas was easy on the score of the cousins. But the removal of his alarm did his niece no service: as her unaccountableness was confirmed his displeasure increased; and getting up and walking about the room with a frown, which Fanny could picture to herself, though she dared not lift up her eyes, he shortly afterwards, and in a voice of authority, said, "Have you any reason, child, to think ill of Mr. Crawford's temper?"

  "No, sir."

  She longed to add, "But of his principles I have"; but her heart sunk under the appalling prospect of discussion, explanation, and probably non-conviction. Her ill opinion of him was founded chiefly on observations, which, for her cousins' sake, she could scarcely dare mention to their father. Maria and Julia, and especially Maria, were so closely implicated in Mr. Crawford's misconduct, that she could not give his character, such as she believed it, without betraying them. She had hoped that, to a man like her uncle, so discerning, so honourable, so good, the simple acknowledgment of settled _dislike_ on her side would have been sufficient. To her infinite grief she found it was not.

  Sir Thomas came towards the table where she sat in trembling wretchedness, and with a good deal of cold sternness, said, "It is of no use, I perceive, to talk to you. We had better put an end to this most mortifying conference. Mr. Crawford must not be kept longer waiting. I will, therefore, only add, as thinking it my duty to mark my opinion of your conduct, that you have disappointed every expectation I had formed, and proved yourself of a character the very reverse of what I had supposed. For I _had_, Fanny, as I think my behaviour must have shewn, formed a very favourable opinion of you from the period of my return to England. I had thought you peculiarly free from wilfulness of temper, self-conceit, and every tendency to that independence of spirit which prevails so much in modern days, even in young women, and which in young women is offensive and disgusting beyond all common offence. But you have now shewn me that you can be wilful and perverse; that you can and will decide for yourself, without any consideration or deference for those who have surely some right to guide you, without even asking their advice. You have shewn yourself very, very different from anything that I had imagined. The advantage or disadvantage of your family, of your parents, your brothers and sisters, never seems to have had a moment's share in your thoughts on this occasion. How _they_ might be benefited, how _they_ must rejoice in such an establishment for you, is nothing to _you_. You think only of yourself, and because you do not feel for Mr. Crawford exactly what a young heated fancy imagines to be necessary for happiness, you resolve to refuse him at once, without wishing even for a little time to consider of it, a little more time for cool consideration, and for really examining your own inclinations; and are, in a wild fit of folly, throwing away from you such an opportunity of being settled in life, eligibly, honourably, nobly settled, as will, probably, never occur to you again. Here is a young man of sense, of character, of temper, of manners, and of fortune, exceedingly attached to you, and seeking your hand in the most handsome and disinterested way; and let me tell you, Fanny, that you may live eighteen years longer in the world without being addressed by a man of half Mr. Crawford's estate, or a tenth part of his merits. Gladly would I have bestowed either of my own daughters on him. Maria is nobly married; but had Mr. Crawford sought Julia's hand, I should have given it to him with superior and more heartfelt satisfaction than I gave Maria's to Mr. Rushworth." After half a moment's pause: "And I should have been very much surprised had either of my daughters, on receiving a proposal of marriage at any time which might carry with it only _half_ the eligibility of _this_, immediately and peremptorily, and without paying my opinion or my regard the compliment of any consultation, put a decided negative on it. I should have been much surprised and much hurt by such a proceeding. I should have thought it a gross violation of duty and respect. _You_ are not to be judged by the same rule. You do not owe me the duty of a child. But, Fanny, if your heart can acquit you of _ingratitude_--"

  He ceased. Fanny was by this time crying so bitterly that, angry as he was, he would not press that article farther. Her heart was almost broke by such a picture of what she appeared to him; by such accusations, so heavy, so multiplied, so rising in dreadful gradation! Self-willed, obstinate, selfish, and ungrateful. He thought her all this. She had deceived his expectations; she had lost his good opinion. What was to become of her?

  "I am very sorry," said she inarticulately, through her tears, "I am very sorry indeed."

  "Sorry! yes, I hope you are sorry; and you will probably have reason to be long sorry for this day's transactions."

  "If it were possible for me to do otherwise" said she, with another strong effort; "but I am so perfectly convinced that I could never make him happy, and that I should be miserable myself."

  Another burst of tears; but in spite of that burst, and in spite of that great black word _miserable_, which served to introduce it, Sir Thomas began to think a little relenting, a little change of inclination, might have something to do with it; and to augur favourably from the personal entreaty of the young man himself. He knew her to be very timid, and exceedingly nervous; and thought it not improbable that her mind might be in such a state as a little time, a little pressing, a little patience, and a little impatience, a judicious mixture of all on the lover's side, might work their usual effect on. If the gentleman would but persevere, if he had but love enough to persevere, Sir Thomas began to have hopes; and these reflections having passed across his mind and cheered it, "Well," said he, in a tone of becoming gravity, but of less anger, "well, child, dry up your tears. There is no use in these tears; they can do no good. You must now come downstairs with me. Mr. Crawford has been kept waiting too long already. You must give him your own answer: we cannot expect him to be satisfied with less; and you only can explain to him the grounds of that misconception of your sentiments, which, unfortunately for himself, he certainly has imbibed. I am totally unequal to it."

  But Fanny shewed such reluctance, such misery, at the idea of going down to him, that Sir Thomas, after a little consideration, judged it better to indulge her. His hopes from both gentleman and lady suffered a small depression in consequence; but when he looked at his niece, and saw the state of feature and complexion which her crying had brought her into, he thought there might be as much lost as gained by an immediate interview. With a few words, therefore, of no particular meaning, he walked off by himself, leaving his poor niece to sit and cry over what had passed, with very wretched feelings

  Her mind was all disorder. The past, present, future, everything was terrible. But her uncle's anger gave her the severest pain of all. Selfish and ungrateful! to have appeared so to him! She was miserable for ever. She had no one to take her part, to counsel, or speak for her. Her only friend was absent. He might have softened his father; but all, perhaps all, would think her selfish and ungrateful. She might have to endure the reproach again and again; she might hear it, or see it, or know it to exist for ever in every connexion about her. She could not but feel some resentment against Mr. Crawford; yet, if he really loved her, and were unhappy too! It was all wretchedness together.

  In about a quarter of an hour her uncle returned; she was almost ready to faint at the sight of him. He spoke calmly, however, without austerity, without reproach, and she revived a little. There was comfort, too, in his words, as well as his manner, for he began with, "Mr. Crawford is gone: he has just left me. I need not repeat what has passed. I do not want to add to anything you may now be feeling, by an account of what he has felt. Suffice it, that he has behaved in the most gentlemanlike and generous manner, and has confirmed me in a most favourable opinion of his understanding, heart, and temper. Upon my representation of what you were suffering, he immediately, and with the greatest delicacy, ceased to urge to see you for the present."

  Here Fanny, who had looked up, looked down again. "Of course," continued her uncle, "it cannot be supposed but that he should request to speak with you alone, be it only for five minutes; a request too natural, a claim too just to be denied. But there is no time fixed; perhaps to-morrow, or whenever your spirits are composed enough. For the present you have only to tranquillise yourself. Check these tears; they do but exhaust you. If, as I am willing to suppose, you wish to shew me any observance, you will not give way to these emotions, but endeavour to reason yourself into a stronger frame of mind. I advise you to go out: the air will do you good; go out for an hour on the gravel; you will have the shrubbery to yourself, and will be the better for air and exercise. And, Fanny" (turning back again for a moment), "I shall make no mention below of what has passed; I shall not even tell your aunt Bertram. There is no occasion for spreading the disappointment; say nothing about it yourself."

  This was an order to be most joyfully obeyed; this was an act of kindness which Fanny felt at her heart. To be spared from her aunt Norris's interminable reproaches! he left her in a glow of gratitude. Anything might be bearable rather than such reproaches. Even to see Mr. Crawford would be less overpowering.

  She walked out directly, as her uncle recommended, and followed his advice throughout, as far as she could; did check her tears; did earnestly try to compose her spirits and strengthen her mind. She wished to prove to him that she did desire his comfort, and sought to regain his favour; and he had given her another strong motive for exertion, in keeping the whole affair from the knowledge of her aunts. Not to excite suspicion by her look or manner was now an object worth attaining; and she felt equal to almost anything that might save her from her aunt Norris.

  She was struck, quite struck, when, on returning from her walk and going into the East room again, the first thing which caught her eye was a fire lighted and burning. A fire! it seemed too much; just at that time to be giving her such an indulgence was exciting even painful gratitude. She wondered that Sir Thomas could have leisure to think of such a trifle again; but she soon found, from the voluntary information of the housemaid, who came in to attend it, that so it was to be every day. Sir Thomas had given orders for it.

  "I must be a brute, indeed, if I can be really ungrateful!" said she, in soliloquy. "Heaven defend me from being ungrateful!"

  She saw nothing more of her uncle, nor of her aunt Norris, till they met at dinner. Her uncle's behaviour to her was then as nearly as possible what it had been before; she was sure he did not mean there should be any change, and that it was only her own conscience that could fancy any; but her aunt was soon quarrelling with her; and when she found how much and how unpleasantly her having only walked out without her aunt's knowledge could be dwelt on, she felt all the reason she had to bless the kindness which saved her from the same spirit of reproach, exerted on a more momentous subject.

  "If I had known you were going out, I should have got you just to go as far as my house with some orders for Nanny," said she, "which I have since, to my very great inconvenience, been obliged to go and carry myself. I could very ill spare the time, and you might have saved me the trouble, if you would only have been so good as to let us know you were going out. It would have made no difference to you, I suppose, whether you had walked in the shrubbery or gone to my house."

  "I recommended the shrubbery to Fanny as the driest place," said Sir Thomas.

  "Oh!" said Mrs. Norris, with a moment's check, "that was very kind of you, Sir Thomas; but you do not know how dry the path is to my house. Fanny would have had quite as good a walk there, I assure you, with the advantage of being of some use, and obliging her aunt: it is all her fault. If she would but have let us know she was going out but there is a something about Fanny, I have often observed it before--she likes to go her own way to work; she does not like to be dictated to; she takes her own independent walk whenever she can; she certainly has a little spirit of secrecy, and independence, and nonsense, about her, which I would advise her to get the better of."

  As a general reflection on Fanny, Sir Thomas thought nothing could be more unjust, though he had been so lately expressing the same sentiments himself, and he tried to turn the conversation: tried repeatedly before he could succeed; for Mrs. Norris had not discernment enough to perceive, either now, or at any other time, to what degree he thought well of his niece, or how very far he was from wishing to have his own children's merits set off by the depreciation of hers. She was talking _at_ Fanny, and resenting this private walk half through the dinner.

  It was over, however, at last; and the evening set in with more composure to Fanny, and more cheerfulness of spirits than she could have hoped for after so stormy a morning; but she trusted, in the first place, that she had done right: that her judgment had not misled her. For the purity of her intentions she could answer; and she was willing to hope, secondly, that her uncle's displeasure was abating, and would abate farther as he considered the matter with more impartiality, and felt, as a good man must feel, how wretched, and how unpardonable, how hopeless, and how wicked it was to marry without affection.

  When the meeting with which she was threatened for the morrow was past, she could not but flatter herself that the subject would be finally concluded, and Mr. Crawford once gone from Mansfield, that everything would soon be as if no such subject had existed. She would not, could not believe, that Mr. Crawford's affection for her could distress him long; his mind was not of that sort. London would soon bring its cure. In London he would soon learn to wonder at his infatuation, and be thankful for the right reason in her which had saved him from its evil consequences.

  While Fanny's mind was engaged in these sort of hopes, her uncle was, soon after tea, called out of the room; an occurrence too common to strike her, and she thought nothing of it till the butler reappeared ten minutes afterwards, and advancing decidedly towards herself, said, "Sir Thomas wishes to speak with you, ma'am, in his own room." Then it occurred to her what might be going on; a suspicion rushed over her mind which drove the colour from her cheeks; but instantly rising, she was preparing to obey, when Mrs. Norris called out, "Stay, stay, Fanny! what are you about? where are you going? don't be in such a hurry. Depend upon it, it is not you who are wanted; depend upon it, it is me" (looking at the butler); "but you are so very eager to put yourself forward. What should Sir Thomas want you for? It is me, Baddeley, you mean; I am coming this moment. You mean me, Baddeley, I am sure; Sir Thomas wants me, not Miss Price."

  But Baddeley was stout. "No, ma'am, it is Miss Price; I am certain of its being Miss Price." And there was a half-smile with the words, which meant, "I do not think you would answer the purpose at all."

  Mrs. Norris, much discontented, was obliged to compose herself to work again; and Fanny, walking off in agitating consciousness, found herself, as she anticipated, in another minute alone with Mr. Crawford.

　　范妮第二天早晨醒来的时候，并没有忘掉克劳福德先生。不过，她也同样记得她那封信的大意，对这封信可能收到的效果，依然像昨天晚上一样乐观。克劳福德先生要是能远走高飞该有多好啊！这是她最巴不得的。带着他妹妹一起走，他原来就是这样安排的，他重返曼斯菲尔德就是为了接他妹妹。她不明白他们为什么到现在还没走成，克劳福德小姐肯定不想在这里多待。克劳福德先生昨天来做客的时候，范妮本来祈望能听到他究竟是哪一天走，但他只是说不久就要起程。
　　就在她满意地料定她的信会产生什么效果之后，她突然看到克劳福德先生又向大宅走来，并且像昨天一样早，不由得大吃一惊。他这次来可能与她无关，但她还是尽可能不见他为好。她当时正在上楼，便决定就待在楼上，等他走了再说，除非有人叫她。由于诺里斯太太还在这里，似乎没有可能会用得着她。
　　她忐忑不安地坐了一阵，一边听，一边颤抖，时刻都在担心有人叫她。不过，由于听不到脚步声向东屋走来，她也渐渐镇定下来，还能坐下做起活来，希望克劳福德先生来也好去也好，用不着她去理会。
　　将近半个小时过去了，她逐渐放下了心。恰在这时，突然听到一阵脚步声——脚步声很重，房内这一带不常听到这种脚步声。这是她姨父的脚步声。她像熟悉他的说话声一样熟悉他的脚步声。以前她往往一听到他的脚步声就发抖，现在一想到他来此肯定是有话对她说，便又开始颤抖起来。不论是要说什么，她都感到害怕。还真是托马斯爵士。他推开了门，问她是否在屋里，他可不可以进来。以前他偶尔来到东屋所引起的那种恐惧似乎又萌生了，范妮觉得他好像又来考她的法语和英语。
　　她恭恭敬敬地给他搬了把椅子，尽量显出受宠若惊的样子。由于心神不定，她没有注意屋内有什么欠缺。托马斯爵士进来之后突然停住脚，吃惊地问道：“你今天为什么没有生火呀？”
　　外边已是满地白雪，范妮披了条披巾坐在那里。她吞吞吐吐地说：
　　“我不冷，姨父——这个季节我从不在这里久坐。”
　　“那你平时生火吗？”
　　“不生，姨父。”
　　“怎么会这样，一定出了什么差错。我还以为你到这间屋里来是为了暖和。我知道，你的卧室里没法生火。这是个很大的错误，必须加以纠正。你这样坐着很不稳妥——也不生火，即使一天坐半个小时都不好。你身体单薄，看你冻的。你姨妈一定不了解。”
　　范妮本想保持沉默，但又不能不吭声，为了对地那位最亲爱的姨妈公允起见，她忍不住说了几句，提到了“诺里斯姨妈”。
　　“我明白了，”姨父知道是怎么回事了，也不想再听下去，便大声说道。“我明白了。你诺里斯姨妈很有见识，一向主张对孩子不能娇惯。不过，什么事情都要适度。她自己也很苦，这当然要影响她对别人的需求的看法。从另一个意义上说，我也能完全理解。我了解她一贯的看法。那原则本身是好的，但是对你可能做得太过分了，我认为的确做得太过分了。我知道，有时候在某些问题上没有一视同仁，这是不应该的。可我对你有很好的看法，范妮，觉得你不会因此而记恨。你是个聪明人，遇事不会只看一方面，只看局部。你会全面地看待过去，你会考虑到不同的时期，不同的人，不同的机遇，你会觉得那些教育你、为你准备了中等生活条件的人们都是你的朋友，因为这样的条件似乎是你命中注定的。尽管他们的谨慎可能最终证明没有必要，但他们的用心是好的。有一点你可以相信：被迫吃点小小的苦头，受点小小的约束，到了富足的时候就能倍感其乐。我想你不会辜负了我对你的器重，任何时候都会以应有的敬重和关心来对待诺里斯姨妈。不过，不说这些了。坐下，亲爱的。我要和你谈一会儿，不会占用你很多时间。”
　　范妮从命了，垂着眼皮，红着脸。托马斯爵士顿了顿，欲笑不笑，说了下去。
　　“你也许还不知道，我今天上午接待了一个客人。早饭后，我回到房里不久，克劳福德先生就给领进来了。你大概能猜到他是来干什么的。”
　　范妮脸上越来越红，姨父见她窘得既说不出话，也不敢抬头，便不再看她，紧接着讲起了克劳福德先生的这次来访。
　　克劳福德先生是来宣布他爱范妮的．并明确提出向她求婚，请求她姨父恩准，因为他老人家似乎在履行父母的职责。他表现得如此有礼，如此坦诚，如此大方，如此得体，而托马斯爵士的答复和意见又那样允当，因而他便欣喜不已地介绍了他们谈话的细枝末节，全然没有察觉外甥女心里怎么想，只以为这些详情细节不仅他乐意说，外甥女更乐意听。因此，他滔滔不绝地说了一番，范妮也不敢打断他，甚至也无意去打断他。她心乱如麻，人已换了个姿势，目不转睛地望着一扇窗户，惶恐不安地听姨父讲着。姨父停顿了一下，但是她还没有察觉，他就站起身来，说道：“范妮，我已经履行了我的部分使命，让你看到事情已经奠定了一个最牢靠、最令人称心如意的基础，我可以履行我余下的使命了，劝说你陪我一起下楼。虽然我自以为你不会讨厌刚才陪我说话，但是到了楼下我会甘拜下风，会有一个说话更为动听的人陪伴你。也许你已经料到，克劳福德先生还没有走。他在我房里，希望在那里见见你。”
　　范妮听到这话时的那副神色，那为之一惊，那一声惊叫，使托马斯爵士大为震惊。不过，更使他震惊的还是她的激烈言词：“噢！不，姨父，不行，我真的不能下楼见他。克劳福德先生应该明白——他肯定明白——我昨天已经跟他说明了，他应该清楚——他昨天就跟我说起了这件事——我毫不掩饰地告诉他我压根儿不同意，无法回报他的好意。”
　　“我不明白你的意思，”托马斯爵士说道，一边又坐下来。“无法回报他的好意！这是怎么回事？我知道他昨天对你讲过，而且据我所知，从你这里得到了一个知道分寸的年轻姑娘所能给的鼓励。从他的话中我了解到你当时的表现，我觉得非常高兴。你显得很谨慎，这很值得称道。可是现在，他已经郑重其事、真心诚意地提了出来——你现在还顾虑什么呢？”
　　“你弄错了，姨父，”范妮嚷道。她一时心急，甚至当面说姨父不对。“你完全弄错了。克劳福德先生怎么能这样说呢？我昨天并没有鼓励他——相反，我对他说 ——我记不得具体说了什么话——不过，我肯定对他说过，我不愿意听他讲，我实在是不愿意听，求他千万别再对我说那样的话。我敢肯定对他说过这些话，而且还不止这些。如果我当时确有把握他是当真的话，还会多说几句，可我不想相信他真有什么意思——我不愿意那样看待他——不愿给他安上更多的意思。我当时就觉得，对他来说，可能说过也就算完了。”
　　她说不下去了，几乎都透不过气了。
　　“这是不是说，”托马斯爵士沉默了一阵，然后问道，“你是要拒绝克劳福德先生？”
　　“是的，姨父。”
　　“拒绝他？”
　　“是的，姨父。”
　　“拒绝克劳福德先生！什么理由？什么原因？”
　　“我——我不喜欢他，姨父，不能嫁给他。”
　　“真奇怪呀！”托马斯爵士以平静而有点不悦的语气说。“这件事有点让我难以理解。向你求婚的是一个各方面都很优秀的年轻人，不仅有地位，有财产，人品好，而且十分和气，说起话来人人喜欢。你和他又不是初次见面，已经认识一段时间了。再说，他妹妹还是你的亲密朋友，他还为你哥哥帮了那样的忙，即使他没有别的好处，单凭这件事就足以打动你的心了。要是靠我的关系，很难说威廉什么时候能晋升。而他已经把这件事办成了。”
　　“是的。”范妮少气无力地说，又难为情地低下了头。经姨父这么一说，她真觉得自己不喜欢克劳福德先生简直是可耻。
　　“你一定察觉到了，”托马斯爵士接着又说，“你一定早就察觉到克劳福德先生对你的态度有所不同。因此，他向你求婚你不该感到意外。你一定注意到他向你献殷勤了，虽然你接受他的献殷勤时表现得很得体（在这方面我没有什么可说的），可载从没看出你为之讨厌过。我倒有点觉得，范妮，你并不完全了解你自己的情感。”
　　“噢！不，姨父，我完全了解。他的献殷勤总是——我总是不喜欢。”
　　托马斯爵士越发惊讶地瞅着她。“我不理解，”他说，“你要解释一下。你这么年轻，几乎没遇到过什么人，你心里不可能已经——”
　　他停了下来，两眼直盯着她。他见她的嘴唇像要说不，但却没有说出声来，只是满脸涨得通红。不过，一个腼腆的姑娘露出这副形态，倒也很可能是纯真无辜的缘故。他至少要显出满意的样子，很快补充了两句：“不，不，我知道这是不可能的——完全不可能。好了，这事不说了。”
　　他沉默了一阵。他在沉思。他的外甥女也在沉思，好鼓起勇气，做好思想准备，以防他进一步盘问。她宁死也不愿吐露真情。她希望经过一番思索，能顶住不要泄露自己的秘密。
　　“除了被克劳福德先生看中可能带来的好处之外，”托马斯爵士又以非常沉静的口吻说道，“他愿意这么早就结婚，这也是我表示赞成的一个原因。我主张结得起婚的人早一点结婚，每个有足够收入的年轻人，都要一过二十四岁就结婚。我是极力这样主张的，一想到我的大儿子，你的表哥伯特伦先生不能早点结婚，我就感到遗憾。目前就我看来，他还不打算结婚，连想都不想。他要是能定下来就好了。”说到这里瞥了范妮一眼。“至于埃德蒙，无论从气质来看，还是从习性来说，都比他哥哥更可能早点结婚。说真的，我近来觉得他遇上了他中意的女人，而我的大儿子，我相信还没有。我说得对吗？休同意我的看法吗，亲爱的？”
　　“同意，姨父。”
　　这话说得很温柔，却又很平静，托马斯爵士不再疑心她会对哪一位表哥有意了。不过，他解除了疑心并没给外甥女带来好处。他认定无法解释她为何拒绝之后，心里越发不高兴。他站了起来，在屋里走来走去，紧锁着眉头，范妮虽然不敢抬头看，但却想象得出。过了一会，他以威严的口吻说：“孩子，你有什么理由认为克劳福德先生脾气不好吗？”
　　“没有，姨父。”
　　范妮很想加一句：“可我有理由认为他品行不端。”但是，一想到说了之后会引起争辩和解释，可能还说服不了姨父，一想到这可怕的前景，她便丧失了勇气。她对克劳福德先生的不良看法主要是凭着自己的观察得来的，看在两位表姐的分上，她不敢把实情告诉她们的父亲。玛丽亚和朱莉娅——尤其是玛丽亚，跟克劳福德先生的不端行为有着密切的牵连，她若是说出她对他的品行的看法，就势必会把她们俩暴露出来。她原以为，对像姨父这样目光敏锐、这样诚实、这样公正的一个人，只要她老实承认她确实不愿意就行了。使她感到极为伤心的是，她发现事实并非如此。
　　她战战兢兢，可怜巴巴地坐在桌边，托马斯爵士向桌子走来，铁板着脸，冷冰冰地说：“我看出来了，跟你说也没用。这场令人难堪的谈话最好到此结束。不能让克劳福德先生再等下去。考虑到我有责任表明我对你的行为的看法，我只想再补充几句：你辜负了我对你所抱的全部希望，你的个性与我原来所想的完全相反。范妮，我想你从我对你的态度上肯定可以看出，我回到英国之后，早已对你产生了非常好的印象。我原以为你一点不任性，一点不自负，一点独立个性都没有，如今还就流行这种独立个性，甚至在年轻女人中也很流行，这格外令人讨厌，令人反感。可是，你今天让我看出来了，你也会任性，也会倔强，你会自行其是，毫不考虑、毫不尊重那些完全有权指导你的人们的意见——甚至都不征求他们的意见。你的行为表明，你和我想象中的你截然不同。在这件事情上，你的家人——你的父母——你的兄弟、妹妹——你好像一时一刻也没把他们的利害放在心上。他们会得到多大好处，他们会为你攀得这门亲事感到多么高兴——这对你都无所谓。你心里只有你自己。你觉得自己对克劳福德先生感受不到年轻人幻想中的美满姻缘应有的激情，便决定立即拒绝他，甚至都不愿用点时间稍加考虑——不愿用点时间冷静地稍微再考虑一下，仔细想想自己是怎样打算的——硬是凭着一阵愚蠢的冲动，抛弃了一个解决婚姻大事的机会。这门亲事这么如意，这么体面，这么高贵，你也许永远也碰不到第二次。这个年轻人有头脑，有人品，脾气好，有教养，又有钱，还特别喜欢你，向你求婚是最慷慨无私不过了。我告诉你吧，范妮，你在这个世上再活十八年，也不会碰到一个能有克劳福德先生一半财产、或能有他十分之一优点的人向你求婚。我真乐意把我两个女儿中的任何一个嫁给他。玛丽亚嫁给了一个高贵人家——不过，假如克劳福德先生向朱莉娅求婚的话，我定会把朱莉娅许给他，比把玛丽亚许给拉什沃思先生还越发感到由衷的高兴。”停顿了片刻之后又说：“要是我的哪个女儿遇到一门婚事有这门婚事一半这么合适，也不征求我的意见，就立即断然拒绝，我会惊讶不已的。这种做法会使我大为惊异，大为伤心。我会觉得这是大逆不道。我不用这个尺度来衡量你。你对我没有做子女的义务。不过，范妮，要是你心里觉得你并没忘恩负义的话——”
　　他停了下来。这时范妮已经哭得很伤心了，托马斯爵士虽然怒气冲冲，但也不便再责怪下去。范妮的心都快碎了，姨父居然把她看成这样一个人，给她加了这么多、这么重的罪名，而且步步升级，真令人震惊！任性，固执，自私，忘恩负义。他认为她样样俱全。她辜负了他的期望，失去了他的好感。她该怎么办呢？
　　“我感到很抱歉，”范妮泪水涟涟、口齿不清地说，“我真的感到很抱歉。”
　　“抱歉！是呀，我希望你知道抱歉。你也许会为今天的行为长期抱歉下去。”
　　“假如我可以不这样做的话，”范妮又强打精神说，“可我深信我决不会使他幸福，我自己也会很痛苦。”
　　又一阵泪水涌了出来。她尽管泪如泉涌，尽管用了耸人听闻的痛苦这个字眼，并由此导致了她的痛哭不止，但托马斯爵士开始在想，她这一次痛哭可能表明她不再那么执拗，可能态度有点改变。他还在想，若是让那位年轻人亲自当面来求婚，效果肯定会好些。他知道范妮非常羞怯，极其紧张，觉得在这种状况下，求婚人若是坚持一段时间，追得紧一些，表现出一点耐心，也显出一点迫不及待，把这些因素调节得当，是会对她产生效果的。只要这位年轻人坚持不懈，只要他真爱范妮，能锲而不舍地坚持下去，托马斯爵士就抱有希望。一想到这里，他心里不禁高兴起来。“好了，”他以适度严肃而不那么气愤的口吻说，“好了，孩子，把眼泪擦干。流泪没有用，也没有好处。现在你跟我一块下楼去。已经让克劳福德先生等了很久了。你得亲自答复他，不然他是不会满意的。你只要对他解释他误以为你有意的原因，肯定是他误会了，这对他很不幸。我是绝对解释不了的。”
　　可范妮一听说要她下楼去见克劳福德先生，就显得很不愿意，也很痛苦。托马斯爵士考虑了一下，觉得最好由着她。这样一来，他对这两个青年男女所抱的希望就不那么高了。但是，当他瞧瞧外甥女，见她都哭得不成样子了，就觉得马上见面有好处也有坏处。因此，他说了几句无关紧要的话之后，便一个人走开了，任外甥女可怜巴巴地坐在那里，为发生的事情哭泣。
　　范妮心里一片混乱。过去、现在、未来，一切都那么可怕。不过，让她感到最痛苦的还是姨父的发脾气。自私自利，忘恩负义啊！她在他眼里成了这样的人！她会永远为此伤心。没有人为她袒护，替她出主意，帮她说话。她仅有的一个朋友还不在家。他也许会劝说父亲消消气，但是所有的人，也许所有的人都会认为她自私自利。她恐怕要反复不断地忍受这样的责备，她听得见，也看得着，知道周围的人会永远这样责备她。她不由得对克劳福德先生感到几分憎恨。不过，如果他真的爱她，而且也感到不幸呢！真是没完没了的不幸啊。
　　大约过了一刻钟，姨父又回来了。范妮一看见他，差一点晕过去。不过，他说起话来心平气和，并不严厉，也没有责备她，她稍微振作了一点。姨父从态度到言语都给了她一丝宽慰，他一开始便说：“克劳福德先生已经走了，刚刚离开。我用不着重复我们刚才都说了些什么。我不想告诉你他是怎么想的，免得进一步影响你的情绪。我只需说一句，他表现得极有绅士风度，极为慷慨大度，越发坚定了我对他的理智、心地和性情的极好印象。我向他讲了你的心情之后，他马上体贴万分地不再坚持要见你了。”．
　　范妮本来已抬起了眼睛，一听这话，又把头垂了下去。“当然，”姨父继续说，“可以料想，他要求和你单独谈一谈，哪怕五分钟也好。这个要求合情合理，无法拒绝。不过，并没有说定时间，也许在明天，或者等你心情平静下来之后。眼下你所要做的，是使自己平静下来。不要再哭了，哭会损害身体的。你要是像我想象的那样，愿意接受我的意见的话，那就不要放纵这种情感，而要尽量理智一些，心里坚强一些。我劝你到外边走走，新鲜空气会对你有好处。到砾石路上走上一个钟头，灌木林里没有别人，新鲜空气和户外活动会使你好起来。范妮，（又转回头说）我到楼下不提刚才发生的事，连你伯特伦姨妈我都不打算告诉。没有必要去宣扬这种令人失望的事情，你自己也别讲。”
　　这条命令真让范妮求之不得，她深深领会这番好意。她可以免受诺里斯姨妈没完没了的责骂啦！她打心里感激姨父。诺里斯姨妈的责骂比什么都让人难以忍受。即使与克劳福德先生见面也没有这么可怕。
　　她听了姨父的话立即走到户外，而且尽量不折不扣地遵照姨父的意见，止住了眼泪，竭力使自己平静下来，坚强起来。她想向他证明，她的确想让他高兴，想重新赢得他的好感。他让她出来活动使她产生了另一个强烈的动机，就是向两位姨妈彻底瞒住这件事。不要让自己的外表和神态引起她们的疑心，这是现在应该争取的目标。只要能免受诺里斯姨妈的责骂，让她干什么都可以。
　　她散步回来，再走进东屋的时候，不禁吃了一惊，而且是大吃一惊。她一进屋，首先映入眼帘的是一炉熊熊烈火。生火啦！这似乎有点过分了。恰在这个时候如此纵容她，使她感激到甚至痛楚的地步。她心里纳闷，托马斯爵士怎么会有闲心想到这样一件小事。但是过了不久，来生火的女仆主动地告知她，今后天天都要如此。托马斯爵士已经吩咐过了。
　　“我要是真的忘恩负义的话，那可真是狼心狗肺呀！”她自言自语地说。“愿上帝保佑我，可别忘恩负义啊！”
　　直到聚在一起吃饭的时候，她才又见到姨父和诺里斯姨妈。姨父尽量像以往一样对待她。她相信姨父肯定不想出现任何变化，只是她的良心觉得有了什么变化。但大姨妈不久便对她嚷了起来。当她听出大姨妈骂只是因为她也不跟她说一声就跑出去散步的时候，她越发觉得她应该感激姨父的一片好心，让她没有因为那个更重大的问题，而遭到同样的责骂。
　　“我要是知道你要出去，就会叫你到我家里替我吩咐南妮几件事，”地说。“结果我只得不辞辛苦地亲自跑一趟。我简直抽不出空来，你要是跟我们说一声你要出去，也就免去了我这番辛苦。我想，是到灌木林散步还是到我家走一趟，对你来说都一样。”
　　“是我建议范妮去灌木林的，那里干燥些，”托马斯爵士说。
　　“噢！”诺里斯太太克制了一下，说道，“你真好，托马斯爵士。可你不知道去我家的那条路有多干。我向你保证，范妮往那里走一趟也挺不错，还能办点事，给姨妈帮帮忙。这都怪她。她要是对我们说一声她要出去——不过范妮就是有点怪，我以前常有觉察，她就喜欢独自行动，不愿听别人的吩咐，只要有可能，就独自去散步。她确实有一点神秘、独立、冒失的味道，我要劝她改一改。”
　　大姨妈对范妮抱有这样的看法，托马斯爵士尽管今天也表示过同样的看法，但却觉得她的这番指责极不公平，便想转变话题，一次次地努力都没成功，因为诺里斯太太反应迟钝，不论现在还是以往任何时候，都看不出他对外甥女多么器重，看不出他多么不想让别人通过贬低外甥女的优点，来突出他自己孩子的优点。她一直在冲着范妮絮叨，对她这次私自出去散步愤然数落了半顿饭工夫。
　　不过，她终于骂完了。随着夜幕的降临，范妮在经历了上午的风暴之后，心情比她料想的要平静一些，愉快一些。不过，首先，她相信自己做得对，她的眼力没有将她引入歧途，她可以担保她的动机是纯洁的。第二，她自以为姨父的不快在逐渐消失，他要是能公正一点考虑这件事，他的不快还会进一步消失，并且觉得没有感情就嫁人该是多么可悲，多么可鄙，多么无望，多么不可原谅。凡是好人都会这样想的。
　　等明天她所担心的会面过去后，她就可以认为这个问题终于了结了，等克劳福德先生离开曼斯菲尔德后，一切就会恢复正常，好像什么也没发生一样。她不愿相信，也无法相信克劳福德先生对她的情意会折磨他多久，他不是那种人。伦敦会很快打消他对她的情意。到了伦敦，他会很快对自己的痴情感到莫名其妙，并且会庆幸她头脑清醒，使他没有陷入不幸。
　　就在范妮沉湎于这类希冀的时候，姨父便在茶后不久被叫了出去。这本是常有的事，并没引起她的注意，她也没把这当成一回事，直至十分钟后，男管家又回来了，并径直朝她走来，说道：“小姐，托马斯爵士想在他屋里和你谈谈。”这时，她心想那里可能有什么事。她满腹狐疑，不禁面色苍白。不过，她还是立即站了起来，准备听从吩咐。恰在这时，诺里斯太太大声嚷道：“别走，别走，范妮！你要干什么呀？你想去哪儿？不要这么急急忙忙的。你放心吧，叫的不是你，肯定是叫我的。（看了看男管家）你也太爱抢风头了。托马斯爵士叫你干什么？巴德利，你是说叫我的吧？我这就去。我敢肯定你说的是我，巴德利。托马斯爵士叫的是我，不是普莱斯小姐。”
　　可是巴德利非常果断。“不，太太，叫的是普莱斯小姐，确实是普莱斯小姐。”随即微微一笑，仿佛在说：“我看你去了根本不顶用。”
　　诺里斯太太讨了个没趣，只好故作镇静，又做起活来。范妮忐忑不安地走了出去，正像她担心的那样，转眼间，她发现自己单独和克劳福德先生在一起了。　

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 34楼发表于: 2013-10-29 0

Chapter Thirty-three

  The conference was neither so short nor so conclusive as the lady had designed. The gentleman was not so easily satisfied. He had all the disposition to persevere that Sir Thomas could wish him. He had vanity, which strongly inclined him in the first place to think she did love him, though she might not know it herself; and which, secondly, when constrained at last to admit that she did know her own present feelings, convinced him that he should be able in time to make those feelings what he wished.

  He was in love, very much in love; and it was a love which, operating on an active, sanguine spirit, of more warmth than delicacy, made her affection appear of greater consequence because it was withheld, and determined him to have the glory, as well as the felicity, of forcing her to love him.

  He would not despair: he would not desist. He had every well-grounded reason for solid attachment; he knew her to have all the worth that could justify the warmest hopes of lasting happiness with her; her conduct at this very time, by speaking the disinterestedness and delicacy of her character (qualities which he believed most rare indeed), was of a sort to heighten all his wishes, and confirm all his resolutions. He knew not that he had a pre-engaged heart to attack. Of _that_ he had no suspicion. He considered her rather as one who had never thought on the subject enough to be in danger; who had been guarded by youth, a youth of mind as lovely as of person; whose modesty had prevented her from understanding his attentions, and who was still overpowered by the suddenness of addresses so wholly unexpected, and the novelty of a situation which her fancy had never taken into account. Must it not follow of course, that, when he was understood, he should succeed? He believed it fully. Love such as his, in a man like himself, must with perseverance secure a return, and at no great distance; 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.

  To Fanny, however, who had known too much opposition all her life to find any charm in it, all this was unintelligible. She found that he did mean to persevere; but how he could, after such language from her as she felt herself obliged to use, was not to be understood. She told him that she did not love him, could not love him, was sure she never should love him; that such a change was quite impossible; that the subject was most painful to her; that she must entreat him never to mention it again, to allow her to leave him at once, and let it be considered as concluded for ever. And when farther pressed, had added, that in her opinion their dispositions were so totally dissimilar as to make mutual affection incompatible; and that they were unfitted for each other by nature, education, and habit. All this she had said, and with the earnestness of sincerity; yet this was not enough, for he immediately denied there being anything uncongenial in their characters, or anything unfriendly in their situations; and positively declared, that he would still love, and still hope!

  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 who, as the clandestine, insidious, treacherous admirer of Maria Bertram, had been her abhorrence, whom she had hated to see or to speak to, in whom she could believe no good quality to exist, and whose power, even of being agreeable, she had barely acknowledged. He was now the Mr. Crawford who was addressing herself with ardent, disinterested love; whose feelings were apparently become all that was honourable and upright, whose views of happiness were all fixed on a marriage of attachment; who was pouring out his sense of her merits, describing and describing again his affection, proving as far as words could prove it, and in the language, tone, and spirit of a man of talent too, that he sought her for her gentleness and her goodness; and to complete the whole, he was now the Mr. Crawford who had procured William's promotion!

  Here was a change, and here were claims which could not but operate! She might have disdained him in all the dignity of angry virtue, in the grounds of Sotherton, or the theatre at Mansfield Park; but he approached her now with rights that demanded different treatment. She must be courteous, and she must be compassionate. She must have a sensation of being honoured, and whether thinking of herself or her brother, she must have a strong feeling of gratitude. The effect of the whole was a manner so pitying and agitated, and words intermingled with her refusal so expressive of obligation and concern, that to a temper of vanity and hope like Crawford's, the truth, or at least the strength of her indifference, might well be questionable; and he was not so irrational as Fanny considered him, in the professions of persevering, assiduous, and not desponding attachment which closed the interview.

  It was with reluctance that he suffered her to go; but there was no look of despair in parting to belie his words, or give her hopes of his being less unreasonable than he professed himself.

  Now she was angry. Some resentment did arise at a perseverance so selfish and ungenerous. Here was again a want of delicacy and regard for others which had formerly so struck and disgusted her. Here was again a something of the same Mr. Crawford whom she had so reprobated before. How evidently was there a gross want of feeling and humanity where his own pleasure was concerned; and alas! how always known no principle to supply as a duty what the heart was deficient in! Had her own affections been as free as perhaps they ought to have been, he never could have engaged them.

  So thought Fanny, in good truth and sober sadness, as she sat musing over that too great indulgence and luxury of a fire upstairs: wondering at the past and present; wondering at what was yet to come, and in a nervous agitation which made nothing clear to her but the persuasion of her being never under any circumstances able to love Mr. Crawford, and the felicity of having a fire to sit over and think of it.

  Sir Thomas was obliged, or obliged himself, to wait till the morrow for a knowledge of what had passed between the young people. He then saw Mr. Crawford, and received his account. The first feeling was disappointment: he had hoped better things; he had thought that an hour's entreaty from a young man like Crawford could not have worked so little change on a gentle-tempered girl like Fanny; but there was speedy comfort in the determined views and sanguine perseverance of the lover; and when seeing such confidence of success in the principal, Sir Thomas was soon able to depend on it himself.

  Nothing was omitted, on his side, of civility, compliment, or kindness, that might assist the plan. Mr. Crawford's steadiness was honoured, and Fanny was praised, and the connexion was still the most desirable in the world. At Mansfield Park Mr. Crawford would always be welcome; he had only to consult his own judgment and feelings as to the frequency of his visits, at present or in future. In all his niece's family and friends, there could be but one opinion, one wish on the subject; the influence of all who loved her must incline one way.

  Everything was said that could encourage, every encouragement received with grateful joy, and the gentlemen parted the best of friends.

  Satisfied that the cause was now on a footing the most proper and hopeful, Sir Thomas resolved to abstain from all farther importunity with his niece, and to shew no open interference. Upon her disposition he believed kindness might be the best way of working. Entreaty should be from one quarter only. The forbearance of her family on a point, respecting which she could be in no doubt of their wishes, might be their surest means of forwarding it. Accordingly, on this principle, Sir Thomas took the first opportunity of saying to her, with a mild gravity, intended to be overcoming, "Well, Fanny, I have seen Mr. Crawford again, and learn from him exactly how matters stand between you. He is a most extraordinary young man, and whatever be the event, you must feel that you have created an attachment of no common character; though, young as you are, and little acquainted with the transient, varying, unsteady nature of love, as it generally exists, you cannot be struck as I am with all that is wonderful in a perseverance of this sort against discouragement. With him it is entirely a matter of feeling: he claims no merit in it; perhaps is entitled to none. Yet, having chosen so well, his constancy has a respectable stamp. Had his choice been less unexceptionable, I should have condemned his persevering."

  "Indeed, sir," said Fanny, "I am very sorry that Mr. Crawford should continue to know that it is paying me a very great compliment, and I feel most undeservedly honoured; but I am so perfectly convinced, and I have told him so, that it never will be in my power--"

  "My dear," interrupted Sir Thomas, "there is no occasion for this. Your feelings are as well known to me as my wishes and regrets must be to you. There is nothing more to be said or done. From this hour the subject is never to be revived between us. You will have nothing to fear, or to be agitated about. You cannot suppose me capable of trying to persuade you to marry against your inclinations. Your happiness and advantage are all that I have in view, and nothing is required of you but to bear with Mr. Crawford's endeavours to convince you that they may not be incompatible with his. He proceeds at his own risk. You are on safe ground. I have engaged for your seeing him whenever he calls, as you might have done had nothing of this sort occurred. You will see him with the rest of us, in the same manner, and, as much as you can, dismissing the recollection of everything unpleasant. He leaves Northamptonshire so soon, that even this slight sacrifice cannot be often demanded. The future must be very uncertain. And now, my dear Fanny, this subject is closed between us."

  The promised departure was all that Fanny could think of with much satisfaction. Her uncle's kind expressions, however, and forbearing manner, were sensibly felt; and when she considered how much of the truth was unknown to him, she believed she had no right to wonder at the line of conduct he pursued. He, who had married a daughter to Mr. Rushworth: romantic delicacy was certainly not to be expected from him. She must do her duty, and trust that time might make her duty easier than it now was.

  She could not, though only eighteen, suppose Mr. Crawford's attachment would hold out for ever; 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; a measure which he would still have avoided, if possible, but which became necessary from the totally opposite feelings of Mr. Crawford as to any secrecy of proceeding. He had no idea of concealment. It was all known at the Parsonage, where he loved to talk over the future with both his sisters, and it would be rather gratifying to him to have enlightened witnesses of the progress of his success. When Sir Thomas understood this, he felt the necessity of making his own wife and sister-in-law acquainted with the business without delay; 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; but she was more angry with Fanny for having received such an offer than for refusing it. It was an injury and affront to Julia, who ought to have been Mr. Crawford's choice; and, independently of that, she disliked Fanny, because she had neglected her; and she would have grudged such an elevation to one whom she had been always trying to depress.

  Sir Thomas gave her more credit for discretion on the occasion than she deserved; and Fanny could have blessed her for allowing her only to see her displeasure, and not to hear it.

  Lady Bertram took it differently. She had been a beauty, and a prosperous beauty, all her life; and beauty and wealth were all that excited her respect. To know Fanny to be sought in marriage by a man of fortune, raised her, therefore, very much in her opinion. By convincing her that Fanny _was_ very pretty, which she had been doubting about before, and that she would be advantageously married, it made her feel a sort of credit in calling her niece.

  "Well, Fanny," said she, as soon as they were alone together afterwards, and she really had known something like impatience to be alone with her, and her countenance, as she spoke, had extraordinary animation; "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--

  "My dear aunt, _you_ cannot wish me to do differently from what I have done, I am sure. _You_ cannot wish me to marry; for you would miss me, should not you? Yes, I am sure you would miss me too much for that."

  "No, my dear, I should not think of missing you, when such an offer as this comes in your way. I could do very well without you, if you were married to a man of such good estate as Mr. Crawford. And you must be aware, Fanny, that it is every young woman's duty to accept such a very unexceptionable offer as this."

  This was almost the only rule of conduct, the only piece of advice, which Fanny had ever received from her aunt in the course of eight years and a half. It silenced her. She felt how unprofitable contention would be. If her aunt's feelings were against her, nothing could be hoped from attacking her understanding. Lady Bertram was quite talkative.

  "I will tell you what, Fanny," said she, "I am sure he fell in love with you at the ball; I am sure the mischief was done that evening. You did look remarkably well. Everybody said so. Sir Thomas said so. 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 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."

　　这场交谈不像范妮计划的那样短，也不像她设想的那样解决问题。克劳福德先生不是那么容易打发得掉的。他正像托马斯爵士希望的那样百折不挠。他盲目自信，起初非要认为她的确爱他，尽管她本人可能没有意识到。后来，他不得不承认她对她目前的感情还真不含糊，于是便自负地认为，他早晚能让她的感情符合他的心愿。
　　他坠人了情网，深深地坠入了情网。这种爱，受一种积极、乐观的精神的驱动，表现得热烈有余，深沉不足。正是由于范妮拒绝了他，他把她的感情看得更加可贵，便决计要迫使她爱上自己，这就既荣耀又幸福。
　　他不肯绝望，不肯罢休。他有充分的理由不屈不挠地去爱她。他知道她人品好，能满足他对持久幸福的强烈愿望。她现在说她不愿意，说明她既不贪心，性情又那么娴淑（这是他认为最难得的品质），更加激发了他的愿望，坚定了他的决心。他不知道他要征服的这颗心早已另有所属。他丝毫没往这方面猜疑。他认为她很少想过这种事情，因而决不会有这样的危险。他觉得她还是个情窦未开的少女，清纯的心灵像妙丽的姿容一样招人喜爱。他还认定她只是因为生性腼腆，才没有领会他的百般殷勤，他的求婚来得太突然，太出乎她的意料，她一时不知所措，根本想象不到事情有多么奇妙。
　　一旦他被理解，他岂不是就会成功吗？他完全相信这一点。像他这样的人，不管爱上谁，只要坚持下去，必然会得到回报，而且为期不会远。一想到不久就会让她爱上他，他不禁满怀喜悦，她眼下不爱他也没有什么值得遗憾的。对于亨利·克劳福德来说，有点小小的困难要克服倒不是什么坏事。他会因此更来劲。他以前赢得别的姑娘的心都太容易了，现在第一次遇到这样的情况，越发激起了他的精神。
　　然而，范妮长了这么大还没遇到过什么顺心事，因而并不觉得这件事有什么令人愉快的地方，只觉得这一切不可思议。她发现他执意要坚持下去。但是，她被迫说出那番话之后，他怎么还那么死乞白赖，真叫她无法理解。她对他说过，她不爱他，不能爱他，肯定永远不会爱他：这是绝对不可能改变的，这件事使她感到极为痛苦，她求他永远不要再提这个问题，让她马上离开他，这件事就算彻底了结了。当对方进一步催逼的时候，她又补充说，她认为他们的性情完全不同，彼此不可能相爱，无论从性格、教养，还是从习惯来看，他们俩都不相配。这些话她都说过了，而且说得情真意切，然而还是无济于事，对方连忙否认两人的性情有什么不合的，两人的境况有什么不配的。他明确地宣布：他仍然要爱，仍然抱有希望！
　　范妮很清楚自己的意思，但是对自己的举止却拿不准。她的举止过于文雅，真是不可救药。她不知道她的文雅举止如何大大掩盖了她的矢志不移。她的羞怯、感恩、温柔使她每次表示回绝的时候，好像是在自我克制，至少让人觉得，她弄得自己几乎像他一样痛苦。克劳福德先生已经不是原来的那位克劳福德先生。原来的那位克劳福德先生是玛丽亚·伯特伦偷偷摸摸的、阴险狡诈的、用情不专的恋人，她厌恶他，不愿见到他，也不愿搭理他，认为他身上没有一点好品质，即使他能讨人喜欢，她也不承认他有任何讨人喜欢之处。他现在成了这样一位克劳福德先生：他怀着炽热无私的爱向她求起婚来；他的感情看来变得真挚赤诚，他的幸福观完全建立在为了爱情而结婚的基础上；他滔滔不绝地述说起他所意识到的她身上的种种优点，一而再、再而三地描述他对她的感情，搜肠刮肚地用言语，用他这么一个才华出众的人的语言、腔调和神情向她证明，他所以追求她是因为她温柔，因为她贤良，而尤为重要的是，他现在是帮助威廉晋升的克劳福德先生呀！
　　这就起了变化啦！这就欠下了人情，势必要影响她如何抉择。她本来可以像在索瑟顿庭园和曼斯菲尔德剧场里那样，以维护贞洁的尊严愤然地蔑视他，可他现在来找她就有权要求她另眼相待。她必须对他谦恭有礼，必须对他怜悯有加。她必须有一种受宠若惊的感觉，无论看在自己的分上还是看在哥哥的分上，她都必须有感恩戴德之心。这样一来，她的表现充满了怜悯和焦虑，她回绝他的话里夹杂着许多感激和关切之词，这对克劳福德这样盲目自信的人来说，她的拒绝的真实性，至少是坚定程度，就颇为值得怀疑。他在谈话结束时，所以会一再宣称要锲而不舍、再接再厉、不屈不挠地追求下去，并不像范妮认为的那样荒诞无稽。
　　克劳福德很不情愿她让她走了，但是临别时，从他的神情上看，他丝毫没有绝望，他说话并非心口不一，她也不要指望他会变得理智一些。
　　范妮现在恼火了。见他如此自私、狭隘地胡搅蛮缠，她不禁有点怨艾。这又是先前令她吃惊、令她厌恶的那种不体谅他人，不尊重他人。这又是先前令她不屑一顾的那个克劳福德先生的德行。只要自己快活，他可以全然没有人情，不讲人道——唉！一个没有情意的人，是不会有什么道义准则的，这岂不是历来如此吗？她的感情若不是另有所属——也许本不该另有所属——他也永远休想得到。
　　范妮坐在楼上，一边琢磨炉火给她带来的过于奢侈的享受，一边想着刚才的事情。她想的都是不折不扣的真情实事，心里觉得十分悲哀。她对过去和现在都感到惊诧，她在猜想下一步又该出什么事。在紧张不安之中，她什么都想不出个究竟，只知道她无论如何都不会爱克劳福德先生，加上有一炉火供她坐在那里取暖，让她左思右想，倒也觉得颇为快乐。
　　托马斯爵士只好或者说甘愿等到第二天，再了解两个年轻人交谈的结果。到了第二天，他见到了克劳福德先生，听了他的述说。他先是感到失望。他本来希望情况会好一些。他原以为，像克劳福德先生这样一个年轻人，对范妮这样一个性情温柔的姑娘恳求一个钟头。是不会徒劳无功的。但是，一看到这位求婚者态度那么坚决，满怀信心地定要坚持下去，他又很快得到了安慰。眼见当事人那副稳操胜券的样子，他也很快放下心来。
　　他从礼貌，到赞扬，到关照，凡是有助于促成这桩好事的，他是样样在所不辞。他赞赏了克劳福德先生的坚定不移，称赞了范妮，认为这两人的结合仍然是世上最美满的事情。曼斯菲尔德庄园随时欢迎克劳福德先生的到来。无论现在还是将来，他想多长时间来一次，完全由他决定，全看他兴之所在。对于他外甥女的家人和朋友来说，大家在这件事上只有一个想法，一个心愿，凡是爱她的人都得朝一个目标努力。
　　凡是能起鼓励作用的话全都说到了，每一句鼓励的话都给喜不自禁、感激不尽地接受了，两位先生分别时成了最好的朋友。
　　眼见着这件事已经有了个极其妥当、极有希望的基础，托马斯爵士感到颇为得意，便决定不再强求外甥女，不再去公开干涉。范妮有那样的性情，他觉得要影响她的最好办法，就是关心她。恳求只能来自一个方面。她很清楚一家人的心愿，一家人若是能宽容一些，就会最有效地促成这件事。因此，基于这个原则，托马斯爵士利用第一次和她说话的机会，为了能够打动她，以温和而严肃的口吻说：“范妮，我又见到了克劳福德先生，从他那里了解到你们之间的确切情况。他是一个很不一般的年轻人，不管这件事情怎么样，你应该意识到他的情意非同寻常。不过，你还年轻，不知道一般人的爱情短暂多变，不大牢靠，因此，对于他碰了钉子还锲而不舍，你就不像我那样觉得令人惊叹。对他来说，这完全是从感情出发，他这样做没有什么好称道的，或许也不值得称道。不过，由于他做出了这么如意的选择，他的坚定不移也就显得非常可贵了。如果他选择的对象不是这么无可指摘，我就会责怪他不该这么锲而不舍。”
　　“说实话，姨父，”范妮说，“我感到很遗憾，克劳福德先生居然还要继续——我知道这是给我很大的面子，我觉得自己完全不配受到这样的抬举。可我深知，也对他说过了，我永远不能——”
　　“亲爱的，”托马斯爵士打断了她的话，“没有必要说这些。我完全了解你的想法，你也必然了解我的愿望和遗憾。没有必要再说什么，再做什么。从此时此刻起，我们再不谈这件事了。你没有什么好担心的，也没有什么好心神不安的。你可不要以为我会劝你违背自己的意愿嫁人。我所考虑的只是你的幸福和利益，我对你没有别的要求，只求你在克劳福德先生来劝你，说你们的幸福和利益并不矛盾的时候，你能容忍他说下去。他这样做有什么后果，那是咎由自取，完全无损于你。我已经答应他，他无论什么时候来，你都见见他，就像以前没发生这件事时那样。你和我们大家一起见他，态度还和过去一样，尽量忘记一切不愉快的事情。他很快就要离开北安普敦郡，就连这点小小的委屈也不会常要你来承受。将来如何很难说。现在嘛，范妮，这件事在我们之间算是了结了。”
　　姨父说克劳福德先生即将离去，这是范妮唯一感到不胜高兴的事。不过，姨父的好言好语和克制包涵，虽然令她为之感动，但她头脑还很清醒。当她考虑有多少真相不为他所明了时，她觉得他会采取现有的方针是明摆着的事情。他把自己的一个女儿嫁给了拉什沃思先生，你就千万别指望他会异想天开地体贴什么儿女之情。她必须尽到自己的本分，希望随着时间的推移，她的尽本分会比现在容易一些。
　　她虽说只有十八岁，却料想克劳福德先生对她的爱不会持久不变。她设想，只要她坚持不懈地让他碰壁，这件事迟早总会结束的。至于她设想要为此花费多少时间，这是值得关心的另一个问题。我们不便去探究一个年轻姑娘如何确切地估价自己的种种丽质。
　　托马斯爵士本想绝口不谈这件事，但不得不又一次向外甥女提了出来，想在告知两位姨妈之前，让她略有个思想准备。但凡有可能，他还不想让她们知道，但是，既然克劳福德先生对保密完全不以为然，他现在必须告诉她们。克劳福德先生根本无意遮掩。这事在牧师府上已是尽人皆知，因为他就喜欢跟姐姐妹妹谈论他的未来，喜欢把他情场得意的消息随时报告两位有见识的见证人。托马斯爵士听说之后，感到必须马上把这件事告诉妻子和大姨子，虽说替范妮着想，他几乎像范妮一样害怕诺里斯太太知道这件事的后果。他不赞成她好心总要做错事的热情。这时，托马斯爵士的确把诺里斯太太划归为心肠好却总是做出错误的、令人讨厌的事情的人。
　　不过，诺里斯太太这次让他放心了。他要求她对外甥女一定要宽容，不要多嘴多舌。她不仅答应了，而且照办了，只是脸上显得越发恶狠狠的。她很气愤，简直有点怒不可遏。不过，她所以生范妮的气，主要是因为克劳福德先生这样一个人居然会向她求婚，而不是因为她拒绝了他的求婚。这是对朱莉娅的伤害和侮辱，按理说克劳福德先生应该追求她才是。此外，她也不喜欢范妮，因为范妮怠慢过她。她不想让一个她一直想压制的人受此抬举。
　　托马斯爵士以为她在这件事上变得谨慎起来了，还赞扬了她。范妮愿意感谢她，只因为她给了她脸色看，而没有责骂她。
　　伯特伦夫人的态度有所不同。她一直是个美人，而且是个有钱的美人。唯有美貌和有钱能激起她的敬重。因此，得知范妮被一个有钱人追求，大大提高了范妮在她心目中的地位。这件事使她意识到范妮是很漂亮（她以前对此一直有所怀疑），还要攀上一门很好的亲事。这时，她觉得能有这样一个外甥女，脸上也平添了几分光彩。
　　“喂，范妮，”一剩下她们两人时她便说，她这次还真有点迫不及待地想单独和她在一起，说话的时候，脸上的表情特有生气：“喂，范妮，今天上午我听说了一件让我大为惊喜的事情。我一定要说上一次。我对托马斯爵士说我一定要说一次，然后就再也不提了。我向你道喜，亲爱的外甥女。”一边洋洋得意地望着范妮，补充道：“哼——我们绝对是个漂亮的家族。”
　　范妮脸红了，起初不知道说什么好。后来想到可以攻击她的弱点，便马上答道：
　　“亲爱的姨妈，我相信，你是不会希望我不要这样做的。你是不会希望我结婚的。不然你会想我的，对吧？是的，你肯定会想我的，不会希望我结婚。”
　　“不，亲爱的，当你遇到这样一门好亲事的时候，我不该考虑想不想你。如果你能嫁给一个像克劳福德先生那样家道富足的人，我没有你完全可以。你要明白，范妮，像这样一个无可挑剔的对象来求婚，哪个年轻女人都应该接受。”
　　在八年半中，这几乎是范妮从二姨妈那里听到的唯一的一条行为准则，唯一的一条建议。她哑口无言了。她深知争论不会有什么好处。如果二姨妈不同意她的意见，她和她辩论也不会有什么结果。这时伯特伦夫人话还真多。
　　“你听我说，范妮，”二姨妈说，“我敢肯定他是在那次舞会上爱上你的，我敢肯定是那天晚上惹下的事。你那天晚上真好看。人人都这么说。托马斯爵士也这么说。你知道，你有查普曼太太帮你打扮。我很高兴我打发她去帮助你。我要告诉托马斯爵士，这件事肯定是那天晚上惹下的。”此后不久，她仍然顺着这愉快的思路，说道：“你听我说，范妮，下次哈巴狗下仔，我送你一条小狗——我连玛丽亚都没有送呢。”　

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 35楼发表于: 2013-10-29 0

Chapter Thirty-four

  Edmund had great things to hear on his return. Many surprises were awaiting him. The first that occurred was not least in interest: the appearance of Henry Crawford and his sister walking together through the village as he rode into it. He had concluded--he had meant them to be far distant. His absence had been extended beyond a fortnight purposely to avoid Miss Crawford. He was returning to Mansfield with spirits ready to feed on melancholy remembrances, and tender associations, when her own fair self was before him, leaning on her brother's arm, and he found himself receiving a welcome, unquestionably friendly, from the woman whom, two moments before, he had been thinking of as seventy miles off, and as farther, much farther, from him in inclination than any distance could express.

  Her reception of him was of a sort which he could not have hoped for, had he expected to see her. Coming as he did from such a purport fulfilled as had taken him away, he would have expected anything rather than a look of satisfaction, and words of simple, pleasant meaning. It was enough to set his heart in a glow, and to bring him home in the properest state for feeling the full value of the other joyful surprises at hand.

  William's promotion, with all its particulars, he was soon master of; and with such a secret provision of comfort within his own breast to help the joy, he found in it a source of most gratifying sensation and unvarying cheerfulness all dinner-time.

  After dinner, when he and his father were alone, he had Fanny's history; and then all the great events of the last fortnight, and the present situation of matters at Mansfield were known to him.

  Fanny suspected what was going on. They sat so much longer than usual in the dining-parlour, that she was sure they must be talking of her; and when tea at last brought them away, and she was to be seen by Edmund again, she felt dreadfully guilty. He came to her, sat down by her, took her hand, and pressed it kindly; and at that moment she thought that, but for the occupation and the scene which the tea-things afforded, she must have betrayed her emotion in some unpardonable excess.

  He was not intending, however, by such action, to be conveying to her that unqualified approbation and encouragement which her hopes drew from it. It was designed only to express his participation in all that interested her, and to tell her that he had been hearing what quickened every feeling of affection. He was, in fact, entirely on his father's side of the question. His surprise was not so great as his father's at her refusing Crawford, because, so far from supposing her to consider him with anything like a preference, he had always believed it to be rather the reverse, and could imagine her to be taken perfectly unprepared, but Sir Thomas could not regard the connexion as more desirable than he did. It had every recommendation to him; and while honouring her for what she had done under the influence of her present indifference, honouring her in rather stronger terms than Sir Thomas could quite echo, he was most earnest in hoping, and sanguine in believing, that it would be a match at last, and that, united by mutual affection, it would appear that their dispositions were as exactly fitted to make them blessed in each other, as he was now beginning seriously to consider them. Crawford had been too precipitate. He had not given her time to attach herself. He had begun at the wrong end. With such powers as his, however, and such a disposition as hers, Edmund trusted that everything would work out a happy conclusion. Meanwhile, he saw enough of Fanny's embarrassment to make him scrupulously guard against exciting it a second time, by any word, or look, or movement.

  Crawford called the next day, and on the score of Edmund's return, Sir Thomas felt himself more than licensed to ask him to stay dinner; it was really a necessary compliment. He staid of course, and Edmund had then ample opportunity for observing how he sped with Fanny, and what degree of immediate encouragement for him might be extracted from her manners; and it was so little, so very, very little-- every chance, every possibility of it, resting upon her embarrassment only; if there was not hope in her confusion, there was hope in nothing else--that he was almost ready to wonder at his friend's perseverance. Fanny was worth it all; he held her to be worth every effort of patience, every exertion of mind, but he did not think he could have gone on himself with any woman breathing, without something more to warm his courage than his eyes could discern in hers. He was very willing to hope that Crawford saw clearer, and this was the most comfortable conclusion for his friend that he could come to from all that he observed to pass before, and at, and after dinner.

  In the evening a few circumstances occurred which he thought more promising. When he and Crawford walked into the drawing-room, his mother and Fanny were sitting as intently and silently at work as if there were nothing else to care for. Edmund could not help noticing their apparently deep tranquillity.

  "We have not been so silent all the time," replied his mother. "Fanny has been reading to me, and only put the book down upon hearing you coming." And sure enough there was a book on the table which had the air of being very recently closed: a volume of Shakespeare. "She often reads to me out of those books; and she was in the middle of a very fine speech of that man's-- what's his name, Fanny?--when we heard your footsteps."

  Crawford took the volume. "Let me have the pleasure of finishing that speech to your ladyship," said he. "I shall find it immediately." And by carefully giving way to the inclination of the leaves, he did find it, or within a page or two, quite near enough to satisfy Lady Bertram, who assured him, as soon as he mentioned the name of Cardinal Wolsey, that he had got the very speech. Not a look or an offer of help had Fanny given; not a syllable for or against. All her attention was for her work. She seemed determined to be interested by nothing else. But taste was too strong in her. She could not abstract her mind five minutes: she was forced to listen; his reading was capital, and her pleasure in good reading extreme. To _good_ reading, however, she had been long used: her uncle read well, her cousins all, Edmund very well, but in Mr. Crawford's reading there was a variety of excellence beyond what she had ever met with. The King, the Queen, Buckingham, Wolsey, Cromwell, all were given in turn; for with the happiest knack, the happiest power of jumping and guessing, he could always alight at will on the best scene, or the best speeches of each; and whether it were dignity, or pride, or tenderness, or remorse, or whatever were to be expressed, he could do it with equal beauty. It was truly dramatic. His acting had first taught Fanny what pleasure a play might give, and his reading brought all his acting before her again; nay, perhaps with greater enjoyment, for it came unexpectedly, and with no such drawback as she had been used to suffer in seeing him on the stage with Miss Bertram.

  Edmund watched the progress of her attention, and was amused and gratified by seeing how she gradually slackened in the needlework, which at the beginning seemed to occupy her totally: how it fell from her hand while she sat motionless over it, and at last, how the eyes which had appeared so studiously to avoid him throughout the day were turned and fixed on Crawford--fixed on him for minutes, fixed on him, in short, till the attraction drew Crawford's upon her, and the book was closed, and the charm was broken. Then she was shrinking again into herself, and blushing and working as hard as ever; but it had been enough to give Edmund encouragement for his friend, and as he cordially thanked him, he hoped to be expressing Fanny's secret feelings too.

  "That play must be a favourite with you," said he; "you read as if you knew it well."

  "It will be a favourite, I believe, from this hour," replied Crawford; "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."

  "No doubt one is familiar with Shakespeare in a degree," said Edmund, "from one's earliest years. His celebrated passages are quoted by everybody; they are in half the books we open, and we all talk Shakespeare, use his similes, and describe with his descriptions; but this is totally distinct from giving his sense as you gave it. To know him in bits and scraps is common enough; to know him pretty thoroughly is, perhaps, not uncommon; but to read him well aloud is no everyday talent."

  "Sir, you do me honour," was Crawford's answer, with a bow of mock gravity.

  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."

  Crawford was excessively pleased. If Lady Bertram, with all her incompetency and languor, could feel this, the inference of what her niece, alive and enlightened as she was, must feel, was elevating.

  "You have a great turn for acting, I am sure, Mr. Crawford," said her ladyship soon afterwards; "and I will tell you what, I think you will have a theatre, some time or other, at your house in Norfolk. I mean when you are settled there. I do indeed. I think you will fit up a theatre at your house in Norfolk."

  "Do you, ma'am?" cried he, with quickness. "No, no, that will never be. Your ladyship is quite mistaken. No theatre at Everingham! Oh no!" And he looked at Fanny with an expressive smile, which evidently meant, "That lady will never allow a theatre at Everingham."

  Edmund saw it all, and saw Fanny so determined _not_ to see it, as to make it clear that the voice was enough to convey the full meaning of the protestation; and such a quick consciousness of compliment, such a ready comprehension of a hint, he thought, was rather favourable than not.

  The subject of reading aloud was farther discussed. The two young men were the only talkers, but they, standing by the fire, talked over the too common neglect of the qualification, the total inattention to it, in the ordinary school-system for boys, the consequently natural, yet in some instances almost unnatural, degree of ignorance and uncouthness of men, of sensible and well-informed men, when suddenly called to the necessity of reading aloud, which had fallen within their notice, giving instances of blunders, and failures with their secondary causes, the want of management of the voice, of proper modulation and emphasis, of foresight and judgment, all proceeding from the first cause: want of early attention and habit; and Fanny was listening again with great entertainment.

  "Even in my profession," said Edmund, with a smile, "how little the art of reading has been studied! how little a clear manner, and good delivery, have been attended to! I speak rather of the past, however, than the present. There is now a spirit of improvement abroad; but among those who were ordained twenty, thirty, forty years ago, the larger number, to judge by their performance, must have thought reading was reading, and preaching was preaching. It is different now. The subject is more justly considered. It is felt that distinctness and energy may have weight in recommending the most solid truths; and besides, there is more general observation and taste, a more critical knowledge diffused than formerly; in every congregation there is a larger proportion who know a little of the matter, and who can judge and criticise."

  Edmund had already gone through the service once since his ordination; and upon this being understood, he had a variety of questions from Crawford as to his feelings and success; questions, which being made, though with the vivacity of friendly interest and quick taste, without any touch of that spirit of banter or air of levity which Edmund knew to be most offensive to Fanny, he had true pleasure in satisfying; and when Crawford proceeded to ask his opinion and give his own as to the properest manner in which particular passages in the service should be delivered, shewing it to be a subject on which he had thought before, and thought with judgment, Edmund was still more and more pleased. This would be the way to Fanny's heart. She was not to be won by all that gallantry and wit and good-nature together could do; or, at least, she would not be won by them nearly so soon, without the assistance of sentiment and feeling, and seriousness on serious subjects

  "Our liturgy," observed Crawford, "has beauties, which not even a careless, slovenly style of reading can destroy; but it has also redundancies and repetitions which require good reading not to be felt. For myself, at least, I must confess being not always so attentive as I ought to be" (here was a glance at Fanny); "that nineteen times out of twenty I am thinking how such a prayer ought to be read, and longing to have it to read myself. Did you speak?" stepping eagerly to Fanny, and addressing her in a softened voice; and upon her saying "No," he added, "Are you sure you did not speak? I saw your lips move. I fancied you might be going to tell me I ought to be more attentive, and not _allow_ my thoughts to wander. Are not you going to tell me so?"

  "No, indeed, you know your duty too well for me to-- even supposing--"

  She stopt, felt herself getting into a puzzle, and could not be prevailed on to add another word, not by dint of several minutes of supplication and waiting. He then returned to his former station, and went on as if there had been no such tender interruption.

  "A sermon, well delivered, is more uncommon even than prayers well read. A sermon, good in itself, is no rare thing. It is more difficult to speak well than to compose well; that is, the rules and trick of composition are oftener an object of study. A thoroughly good sermon, thoroughly well delivered, is a capital gratification. I can never hear such a one without the greatest admiration and respect, and more than half a mind to take orders and preach myself. There is something in the eloquence of the pulpit, when it is really eloquence, which is entitled to the highest praise and honour. The preacher who can touch and affect such an heterogeneous mass of hearers, on subjects limited, and long worn threadbare in all common hands; who can say anything new or striking, anything that rouses the attention without offending the taste, or wearing out the feelings of his hearers, is a man whom one could not, in his public capacity, honour enough. I should like to be such a man."

  Edmund laughed.

  "I should indeed. I never listened to a distinguished preacher in my life without a sort of envy. But then, I must have a London audience. I could not preach but to the educated; to those who were capable of estimating my composition. And I do not know that I should be fond of preaching often; now and then, perhaps once or twice in the spring, after being anxiously expected for half a dozen Sundays together; but not for a constancy; it would not do for a constancy."

  Here Fanny, who could not but listen, involuntarily shook her head, and Crawford was instantly by her side again, entreating to know her meaning; and as Edmund perceived, by his drawing in a chair, and sitting down close by her, that it was to be a very thorough attack, that looks and undertones were to be well tried, he sank as quietly as possible into a corner, turned his back, and took up a newspaper, very sincerely wishing that dear little Fanny might be persuaded into explaining away that shake of the head to the satisfaction of her ardent lover; and as earnestly trying to bury every sound of the business from himself in murmurs of his own, over the various advertisements of "A most desirable Estate in South Wales"; "To Parents and Guardians"; and a "Capital season'd Hunter."

  Fanny, meanwhile, vexed with herself for not having been as motionless as she was speechless, and grieved to the heart to see Edmund's arrangements, was trying by everything in the power of her modest, gentle nature, to repulse Mr. Crawford, and avoid both his looks and inquiries; and he, unrepulsable, was persisting in both.

  "What did that shake of the head mean?" said he. "What was it meant to express? Disapprobation, I fear. But of what? What had I been saying to displease you? Did you think me speaking improperly, lightly, irreverently on the subject? Only tell me if I was. Only tell me if I was wrong. I want to be set right. Nay, nay, I entreat you; for one moment put down your work. What did that shake of the head mean?"

  In vain was her "Pray, sir, don't; pray, Mr. Crawford," repeated twice over; and in vain did she try to move away. In the same low, eager voice, and the same close neighbourhood, he went on, reurging the same questions as before. She grew more agitated and displeased.

  "How can you, sir? You quite astonish me; I wonder how you can--"

  "Do I astonish you?" said he. "Do you wonder? Is there anything in my present entreaty that you do not understand? I will explain to you instantly all that makes me urge you in this manner, all that gives me an interest in what you look and do, and excites my present curiosity. I will not leave you to wonder long."

  In spite of herself, she could not help half a smile, but she said nothing.

  "You shook your head at my acknowledging that I should not like to engage in the duties of a clergyman always for a constancy. Yes, that was the word. Constancy: I am not afraid of the word. I would spell it, read it, write it with anybody. I see nothing alarming in the word. Did you think I ought?"

  "Perhaps, sir," said Fanny, wearied at last into speaking-- "perhaps, sir, I thought it was a pity you did not always know yourself as well as you seemed to do at that moment."

  Crawford, delighted to get her to speak at any rate, was determined to keep it up; and poor Fanny, who had hoped to silence him by such an extremity of reproof, found herself sadly mistaken, and that it was only a change from one object of curiosity and one set of words to another. He had always something to entreat the explanation of. The opportunity was too fair. None such had occurred since his seeing her in her uncle's room, none such might occur again before his leaving Mansfield. Lady Bertram's being just on the other side of the table was a trifle, for she might always be considered as only half-awake, and Edmund's advertisements were still of the first utility.

  "Well," said Crawford, after a course of rapid questions and reluctant answers; "I am happier than I was, because I now understand more clearly your opinion of me. You think me unsteady: easily swayed by the whim of the moment, easily tempted, easily put aside. With such an opinion, no wonder that. But we shall see. It is not by protestations that I shall endeavour to convince you I am wronged; it is not by telling you that my affections are steady. My conduct shall speak for me; absence, distance, time shall speak for me. _They_ shall prove that, as far as you can be deserved by anybody, I do deserve you. You are infinitely my superior in merit; all _that_ I know. You have qualities which I had not before supposed to exist in such a degree in any human creature. You have some touches of the angel in you beyond what-- not merely beyond what one sees, because one never sees anything like it--but beyond what one fancies might be. But still I am not frightened. It is not by equality of merit that you can be won. That is out of the question. It is he who sees and worships your merit the strongest, who loves you most devotedly, that has the best right to a return. There I build my confidence. By that right I do and will deserve you; and when once convinced that my attachment is what I declare it, I know you too well not to entertain the warmest hopes. Yes, dearest, sweetest Fanny. Nay" (seeing her draw back displeased), "forgive me. Perhaps I have as yet no right; but by what other name can I call you? Do you suppose you are ever present to my imagination under any other? No, it is 'Fanny' that I think of all day, and dream of all night. You have given the name such reality of sweetness, that nothing else can now be descriptive of you."

  Fanny could hardly have kept her seat any longer, or have refrained from at least trying to get away in spite of all the too public opposition she foresaw to it, had it not been for the sound of approaching relief, the very sound which she had been long watching for, and long thinking strangely delayed.

  The solemn procession, headed by Baddeley, of tea-board, urn, and cake-bearers, made its appearance, and delivered her from a grievous imprisonment of body and mind. Mr. Crawford was obliged to move. She was at liberty, she was busy, she was protected.

  Edmund was not sorry to be admitted again among the number of those who might speak and hear. But though the conference had seemed full long to him, and though on looking at Fanny he saw rather a flush of vexation, he inclined to hope that so much could not have been said and listened to without some profit to the speaker.

　　埃德蒙一回来就要听到一些重大情况。许多意想不到的事情在等着他。最先发生的并不是最无关紧要的事情：他骑马进村时，看见亨利·克劳福德和他妹妹在一起散步。他原以为他们已经远去了。他所以要两个多星期不回来，为的就是不想见到克劳福德小姐。他在回曼斯菲尔德的路上，已做好准备要生活在心酸的回忆和触景伤情的联想之中，却不料一进村，就见她风姿娟秀地依着哥哥的臂膀出现在他面前。就在刚才，他还以为这个女人远在七十英里之外，而在思想上离他就更远了，现在她却在欢迎他，而且态度无疑非常友好。
　　他即便料到会遇见她，也想不到她会这样欢迎他。他是出去办事的，办完事回来的路上，万万没有料到会遇到如此欢快的笑脸，听到如此简明而动听的语言。这足以使他心花怒放，等回到家里，就能充分领会正等待他的其他惊喜之事的全部价值。
　　他很快就知道了威廉的晋升及其详情细节。他心中暗藏的那份欢乐，使他越发为这件事感到欣喜，因而在吃饭的时候，这件事一直是他得意洋洋、喜幸不已的源泉。
　　吃过饭后，趁旁边没人的时候，父亲把范妮的事情告诉了他。于是，曼斯菲尔德两个星期来的大事和目前的状况，他全都知道了。
　　范妮对他们的举动有所猜疑。他们在饭厅里坐的时间比平时长多了，她料定他们一定在谈论她。到了茶点时间，他们终于起身去喝茶的时候，她一想到即将再次见到埃德蒙，便感到自己犯了大罪似的。埃德蒙来到她跟前，坐在她旁边，抓住她的手，亲切地握着。这时她觉得，要不是大家忙着吃茶点，光顾得关注那些茶具，她肯定会把自己的情感泄露到不可宽恕的地步。
　　不过，埃德蒙这样做并不像她想的那样，在给她无条件的支持和鼓励。他只想表示她感兴趣的事他都关心，还想告诉她，他刚才听到的是催人心动的韵事。其实，在这个问题上，他完全站在父亲一边。范妮拒绝了克劳福德，他并不像父亲那样惊讶。他觉得表妹决不会看得上他，总认为情况恰恰相反，因而可以想象得出，对方提出求婚时，她丝毫没有思想准备。不过，托马斯爵士也不会像他这样认为这桩婚事这么理想。他觉得，这件事从各方面看都很可取。一方面，他赞赏范妮在目前没有情意的情况下的种种表现，甚至比托马斯爵士还要赞赏有加；另一方面，他又热切地希望，并且乐观地相信，他们最后会成为一对佳偶。一旦彼此相爱，那时就可以看出，他们的性情就会正相适宜，给彼此带来幸福。这是他经过认真考虑得出的看法。克劳福德有些过于冒失。他没有给她培养感情的时间。他一开始就失策了。不过，男的条件这么好，女的性情这么温柔，埃德蒙相信，事情肯定会有个圆满的结局。眼下，他见范妮神情窘迫，便小心翼翼，不再用言语、神情或举动刺激她。
　　第二天克劳福德来访。鉴于埃德蒙回来了，托马斯爵士自己做主，留他吃饭。这个面子还真是不能不给的。克劳福德当然留了下来。埃德蒙于是有了充分的机会，观察他和范妮之间的关系如何迅速发展，观察他从范妮那里能当即得到多大的鼓励。他得到的鼓励很少，少得可怜，每一次机会，每个可能的场合，引起的不是她的鼓励，而是给她带来了窘迫不安。如果在她窘迫的时候看不出希望的话，在别的状况下也不会有什么希望。因此，埃德蒙简直不明白，他的朋友为何还要紧迫不舍。范妮倒是值得他这么追求。他认为范妮值得一个人坚持不懈地做出各种努力，值得一个人费尽心机——但是换了他的话，不管是哪一个女人，如果他从其目光中看不出鼓舞勇气的眼神，他是不会死乞白赖地坚持下去的。他真希望克劳福德能看得清楚些，这是他根据他在饭前、饭后以及吃饭当中的观察，替朋友得出的最稳妥的结论。
　　到了晚上，出现了一些情况，他觉得事情又有了点希望。他和克劳福德走进客厅时，他母亲和范妮正聚精会神、不声不响地坐在那里做活计，好像心无旁骛似的。见她们如此沉静，埃德蒙不由得评说了两句。
　　“我们并非一直都这么不声不响，”他母亲答道。“范妮在念书给我听，听见你们来了，才刚把书放下。”桌子上的确有一本书，看样子刚刚合上，是一卷莎士比亚选集。“她常从这些书中挑些内容念给我听。听到你们的脚步声时，她正在念一个人物的一段非常漂亮的台词——那个人物叫什么名字，范妮？”
　　克劳福德拿起了书。“请允许我把这段话给夫人念完，”他说。“我马上就能找到。”他仔细地翻着书，找到了那个地方，或者说离那地方不到一两页，反正是很近，伯特伦夫人满意了。他一提到红衣主教沃尔西①（译注：①莎士比亚历史剧《亨利八世》中的人物。），夫人就说正是这段话。范妮一眼也没看他，也不说要帮他找，也不吭一声对不对。她一心一意只管做她的活，似乎打定主意概不过问别的事。不过，她这方面的兴趣太强烈了，注意力抑制了不到五分钟，便情不自禁地听了起来。克劳福德念得很棒，而她又极其喜欢优美的朗诵。不过，她早就听惯了优美的朗诵。她姨父念得美——表哥表姐全都念得美——埃德蒙念得非常美。但是，克劳福德先生的朗诵有一种她未曾听到过的独到韵味。国王、王后、伯金翰、沃尔西、克伦威尔①，他们的台词他都依次念过了。他有纯熟的技巧，有跳读、猜测的卓越能力，总能随意找到最精彩的场次，找到每个角色最精彩的台词。不管是威严还是骄傲，不管是柔情还是悔恨，不管要表达什么，他都表达得同样完美。这是真正的舞台艺术。他的表演曾第一次使她懂得戏剧能给人多大的享受，现在他的朗诵又使她想起了他以前的表演；不仅如此，也许使她更加愉悦，因为这朗诵完全是突如其来的，也没有她上次看他和伯特伦小姐同台演出时那种酸楚的感觉。
　　埃德蒙在观察范妮注意力的变化，感到又开心又得意。刚开始，她好像一心一意地在做活，后来手里的活渐渐慢下来，从手中脱落，她一动不动地坐在那里。最后，她那双一整天都在故意躲避对方的眼睛转了过来，盯在克劳福德身上，一盯就是好几分钟，直至把克劳福德的目光吸引到她自己身上，那书给合上了，那魔力也被打破了。这时，她又故态复萌，满脸通红，起劲地做起潘来。不过，这足以使埃德蒙替他的朋友产生了希望，他向他表示由衷的感谢时，还希望也能表达出范妮的心意。
　　“这一定是你特别喜爱的一出戏，”他说。“从你的朗诵来看，你好像对剧本很熟悉。”
　　“我相信，从此时此刻起，这将成为我特别喜爱的一出戏，”克劳福德回答说。“不过我想，我从十五岁起，手里还没有拿过一本莎士
　　①皆为《亨利八世》中的人物，国王即亨利八世，王后即亨利八世的妻子，伯金翰即伯金翰公爵，克伦威尔系红衣主教沃尔西的仆人。比亚的剧本。我曾经看过一次《亨利八世》的演出，或者是听到哪个看过演出的人说起过——我已经记不清楚了。不过，人们对莎士比亚也不知道怎么回事就熟悉起来了。这是英国人天生素质的一部分。他的思想，他的美，真是广为流传，处处都可以触摸得到，人们都会本能地熟悉他。一个人但凡有点头脑，只要随便打开他哪个剧本的哪个精彩部分，马上便会坠入他思想的洪流中。”
　　“我相信，人们从幼年时候起就多少知道了莎士比亚，”埃德蒙说。“他那些著名的段落人人都在引用。我们翻阅的书中，一半都有他的引文。我们人人都在谈论莎士比亚，使用他的比喻，使用他的形容语言来形容。但是，这都不像你那样能充分表达他的意义。对他有点零零星星的了解，这是很平常的。要彻底了解他，也许就不寻常了。但是要把他的戏朗诵好，可就不是一般的才华了。”
　　“先生，蒙你夸奖，”克劳福德故作正经地鞠了一躬说。
　　两位先生都瞥了范妮一眼，看她能否也说出一句半句类似的赞扬话。然而，两人都看出这是不可能的。她刚才能注意听也算是赞扬了，他们对此应该知足了。
　　伯特伦夫人表示了她的赞赏，而且措词热烈。“这真像演出一样，”她说。“只可惜托马斯爵士没有听到。”
　　克劳福德喜不自禁。智力平庸、精种萎靡的伯特伦夫人尚且如此欣赏，她那朝气蓬勃、富有见识的外甥女该怎样欣赏，就可想而知了。想到这里，他不禁自鸣得意起来。
　　“我认为你很有表演天赋，克劳福德先生，”过了不久，伯特伦夫人又说。“你听我说，我想你早晚会在你诺福克家里建一个剧场。我的意思是说，等你在那里定居之后。我真是这么想的。我想你会在你诺福克的家里布置一个剧场。”
　　“你真这么想吗，夫人？”克劳福德急忙嚷道。“不，不，决不会的。您老人家完全想错了。埃弗灵厄姆不会有剧场的！噢！不会的。”他带着意味深长的笑容望着范妮，那意思显然是说：“这位女士决不会允许在埃弗灵厄姆搞个剧场。”
　　埃德蒙看出了内中的蹊跷，还看出范妮决计不去理会他的用意，这恰好表明她已完全听明白了对方的意思。他心想，这么快就意识到对她的恭维，这么快就领会了对她的暗示，总比根本没听懂要好。
　　还在进一步讨论朗诵的问题，发言的只是两位年轻人，不过他们俩站在炉火边，谈论学校里普遍忽视对孩子们进行朗诵训练，谈论大人们——头脑聪明、见多识广的大人们在这方面的粗俗无知。这是学校不重视朗诵训练的自然结果，在有些人身上，这种粗俗无知几乎达到不可思议的地步。他们曾经见识过，当突然叫这些人朗诵的时候，他们由于控制不好自己的声音，不懂抑扬顿挫，缺乏预见和判断，念得磕磕巴巴，错误频频。这都属于次因引起的问题，都是由初因导致的，这就是早年不重视，没有养成习惯。范妮又一次听得津津有味。
　　“就是在我这一行里，”埃德蒙含笑说，“朗诵的艺术也很少研究啊！很少有人去注意训练自己念得又清晰又有技巧啊！不过，我说的主要是过去，而不是现在。现在到处都有改进。但是在二十年、三十年、四十年前接受圣职的入们当中，从他们的实际行动来看，多数人肯定认为，朗诵就是朗诵，布道就是布道。现在情况不同了。这个问题受到了应有的重视。现在人们认识到，在传播颠扑不破的真理时，清晰的朗诵和饱满的精神能起到很重要的作用。而且，跟以前相比，现在已有更多的人在这方面有了修养，有了鉴别力，掌握了批评的知识。不管在哪个教堂，台下的听众大多都有一定的见识，他们能辨别，会批评。”
　　埃德蒙接受圣职后，已主持过一次礼拜。克劳福德了解了这一点之后，向他提出了各种各样的问题，问他有什么感受，主持得是否成功。他问这些问题的时候，虽然出于友好关心和快嘴快舌问得随便一些，但却丝毫没有取笑之心，也没有轻薄之意，埃德蒙心里清楚，那会让范妮觉得太唐突。因此，埃德蒙很乐意回答他的问题。克劳福德进一步间到主持礼拜时某些具体段落应该怎样朗诵，并发表了自己的意见。这表明，他过去考虑过这个问题，并且很有见地。埃德蒙越来越高兴了。这才是通向范妮的心灵之路。光靠殷勤、机智、好脾气是赢不来她的心的。光靠这些特点，而没有情操、感情以及对严肃问题的严肃态度，至少不会很快赢得她的心。
　　“我们的礼拜仪式是很讲究的，”克劳福德说，“即使在朗诵这一环上随便一些，马虎一些，也破坏不了。不过有些累赘的、重复的地方，也需要朗诵好，让听众觉不出来。至少，就我来说，我必须承认，我就不是总听得那么专心（讲到这里瞥了范妮一眼），二十次中有十九次我在想这样一段祈祷文应该怎样念，希望自己能拿来念一念。你说什么了吗？”他急忙走向范妮，用轻柔的声音问她。听她说了声“没有”之后，他又问道：“你肯定没说什么吗？我刚才看到你的嘴唇在动。我以为你想告诉我应该专心一些，不要让自己思想开小差。你不打算对我这样说吗？”
　　“的确没有，你很了解你的职责，用不着我—～即使——”
　　她停下来了，觉得自己陷入了困窘，有好一阵工夫，尽管对方在追问、在等待，她却不愿再多说一句话。于是，克劳福德又回到刚才站的地方，继续说了下去，好像不曾有过这么一段温柔的插曲似的。
　　“布道布得好，比把祈祷文念好还难得。布道词本身好，也不算稀奇。写得好没有讲得好困难。就是说，人们对写作技巧和规则有更多的研究。一篇十分好的布道词，讲得又非常好，能给人以莫大的快乐。我每听到一次这样的布道，总感到无比羡慕，无比敬佩，真有点想接受圣职，自己也去布道。教堂讲坛上的口才，如果真的好，那就值得给予最高的赞扬和尊敬。一个传道者，如果能在有限的、普通牧师已经讲过千万遍的主题上，打动并影响形形色色的听众，能讲出一点新鲜的或令人振奋的东西，讲出一点令人关注的内容，而又不让人倒胃口或反感，那他在公众中所起的作用，你怎样敬佩都不过分。我就愿意做这样一个人。”
　　埃德蒙大笑起来。
　　“我真的愿意。我每遇到一个优秀的传教土布道，总是有点羡慕。不过，我得有一帮伦敦的听众。我只给有知识的入布道，讲给能够评价我的布道词的人们听。我不知道我会不会喜欢经常布道。也许，尽管大家盼着我一连五六个星期天都讲，我只是偶尔讲一讲，整个春天讲上一两次。但是不能经常讲，经常讲不行。”
　　范妮不得不听，这时不由自主地摇了摇头。克劳福德又马上来到她身边，求她说出她这是什么意思。他拉了一把椅子紧挨着她坐下。埃德蒙意识到，这可是一场不折不扣的进攻战，眉目传情和弦外之音都要一齐用上。他不声不响地退到一个角落，转过脸去，拿起一张报纸，衷心地希望亲爱的小范妮经过说服，能解释一下她为什么摇头，让她这位狂热的追求者感到心满意足。他同样热切地希望用自己喃喃的读报声，来盖住那两人之间传出的每一个声响。他读着各种各样的广告：“南威尔斯最令人向往的她产”，“致父母与监护人”，“极棒的老练狩猎者”。
　　这当儿，范妮恨自己只能管住自己没做声，却没管住自己不摇头，伤心地看着埃德蒙做出这样的反应。她试图在她那文雅稳重的天性所能允许的范围内，尽力挫败克劳福德先生，既避开他的目光，又不回答他的问题。而他却是挫不败的，既不断地做眉眼，又不停地追问。
　　“你摇头是什么意思？”他问。“你摇头是想表示什么？恐怕是不赞成吧。可不赞成什么呢？我说了什么话惹你不高兴了？你觉得我在这个问题上出言不当吗？轻率无礼吗？真是这样的话，你就告诉我。我有错你就告诉我。我想请你改正我的错误。确切点说，我恳求你。把你手里的活放一放。你摇头究竟是什么意思呀？”
　　范妮忙说：“求求你，先生，不要这样——求求你，克劳福德先生。”连说了两遍都没用。她想走也走不了。克劳福德还用低低的急切的声音，还是那样紧紧地挨着她，继续重复刚才问过的问题。范妮越发忐忑，越发不悦了。
　　“你怎么能，先生？你实在让我吃惊——我奇怪你怎么能——”
　　“我让你吃惊了吗？”克劳福德问。“你觉得奇怪吗？我对你的请求你有什么不理解的吗？我马上向你解释我为什么这样催问你，为什么对你的一笑一颦、一举一动这么感兴趣，为什么我会这么好奇。我不会让你老是觉得奇怪。”
　　范妮忍不住微微一笑，但是没有说话。
　　“你是在听我说我不愿意经常履行牧师职责的时候摇头的。是的，就是这个字眼。经常，我不怕这个字眼。我可以对任何人拼它，念它，写它。我看不出这个字眼有什么可怕的。你觉得我应该认为它有什么可怕的吗？”
　　“也许，先生，”范妮最后厌烦得不得不说话了，“也许，先生，我觉得很遗憾，你对自己并不总是像你那一刻那样了解。”
　　克劳福德总算逗得她开口说话了，心里好生高兴，便决意让她说下去。可怜的范妮，她原以为这样狠狠地责备一番会让他闭口无言，没料到自己却犯了个可悲的错误，对方只是从追问这件事转到追问那件事，由这套话换成那套话。他总会找个问题请求她解释。这个机会太好了。自从他在她姨父房里与她见面以来，他还从没遇到过这么好的机会，在他离开曼斯菲尔德以前，可能再也遇不到这么好的机会。伯特伦夫人就在桌子的那一头，这根本算不了什么，因为你总可以把她看做只是半睡半醒，而埃德蒙读广告依然大有益处。
　　“喔，”经过一阵迅即的提问和勉强的回答之后，克劳福德说道：“我比先前更觉得幸福，因为我现在更清楚了你对我的看法。你觉得我不稳重——容易受一时心血来潮的支配——容易受诱惑——容易放弃。你有这样的看法，难怪——不过，我们走着瞧。我不是光靠嘴巴向你证明你冤屈了我，不是靠向你保证说我的感情是可靠的。我的行为将为我担保 ——别离、距离、时间将为我作证。它们会证明，只要有人有权得到你，我就有权得到你。就人品而言，你比我强得多，这我完全清楚。你有些品质，我以前认为人身上不可能达到这个程度。你像个天使，身上有些东西超出了——不仅超出了人们所能看见的范围，因为人们永远看不到这样的东西——而且超出了人们的想象。不过，我仍不气馁。我不是靠和你一样好来赢得你。这是不可能的。应该是谁最能看出你的美德，谁最崇拜你的人品，谁对你最忠贞不贰，谁才最有权利得到你的爱。我的信心就建立在这个基础上。凭着这点权利，我就可以得到你，也会有资格得到你。我很了解你，你一旦意识到我对你的感情正像我对你表白的这样，我就大有希望了。是的，最亲爱、最甜蜜的范妮—— 不仅如此——（看到她不高兴地住后退）请原谅。也许我现在还没有权利——可我又能怎么称呼你呢？难道你认为你会以别的名字出现在我的心目中吗？不，我白天想的，夜里梦的，全是‘范妮’。这个名字已经成了实实在在的甜蜜的象征，根本找不到别的字眼来形容你。”
　　范妮简直是再也坐不住了，她几乎想冒人人反对的风险溜走了。恰在这时，一阵愈来愈近的脚步声给她解了围。她早就盼着这脚步声了，早就奇怪为什么还不来。
　　由巴德利带领的一伙人庄重地出现了，有端茶盘的，提茶水壶的，拿蛋糕的，把她从痛苦的身心围困中解救了出来。克劳福德先生不得不挪了个位置。范妮自由了，忙碌起来了，也得到了保护。
　　埃德蒙毫不遗憾地回到了可以说话又可以听别人说话的人们中间。他觉得两人谈的时间够长的了，并且看到范妮因为烦恼而涨红了脸。不过他心里在想，既然你说我听了那么长时间，说话的一方决不会没有收获。　

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 36楼发表于: 2013-10-29 0

Chapter Thirty-five

  Edmund had determined that it belonged entirely to Fanny to chuse whether her situation with regard to Crawford should be mentioned between them or not; and that if she did not lead the way, it should never be touched on by him; but after a day or two of mutual reserve, he was induced by his father to change his mind, and try what his influence might do for his friend.

  A day, and a very early day, was actually fixed for the Crawfords' departure; and Sir Thomas thought it might be as well to make one more effort for the young man before he left Mansfield, that all his professions and vows of unshaken attachment might have as much hope to sustain them as possible.

  Sir Thomas was most cordially anxious for the perfection of Mr. Crawford's character in that point. He wished him to be a model of constancy; and fancied the best means of effecting it would be by not trying him too long.

  Edmund was not unwilling to be persuaded to engage in the business; he wanted to know Fanny's feelings. She had been used to consult him in every difficulty, and he loved her too well to bear to be denied her confidence now; he hoped to be of service to her, he thought he must be of service to her; whom else had she to open her heart to? If she did not need counsel, she must need the comfort of communication. Fanny estranged from him, silent and reserved, was an unnatural state of things; a state which he must break through, and which he could easily learn to think she was wanting him to break through.

  "I will speak to her, sir: I will take the first opportunity of speaking to her alone," was the result of such thoughts as these; and upon Sir Thomas's information of her being at that very time walking alone in the shrubbery, he instantly joined her.

  "I am come to walk with you, Fanny," said he. "Shall I?" Drawing her arm within his. "It is a long while since we have had a comfortable walk together."

  She assented to it all rather by look than word. Her spirits were low.

  "But, Fanny," he presently added, "in order to have a comfortable walk, something more is necessary than merely pacing this gravel together. You must talk to me. I know you have something on your mind. I know what you are thinking of. You cannot suppose me uninformed. Am I to hear of it from everybody but Fanny herself?"

  Fanny, at once agitated and dejected, replied, "If you hear of it from everybody, cousin, there can be nothing for me to tell."

  "Not of facts, perhaps; but of feelings, Fanny. No one but you can tell me them. I do not mean to press you, however. If it is not what you wish yourself, I have done. I had thought it might be a relief."

  "I am afraid we think too differently for me to find any relief in talking of what I feel."

  "Do you suppose that we think differently? I have no idea of it. I dare say that, on a comparison of our opinions, they would be found as much alike as they have been used to be: to the point--I consider Crawford's proposals as most advantageous and desirable, if you could return his affection. I consider it as most natural that all your family should wish you could return it; but that, as you cannot, you have done exactly as you ought in refusing him. Can there be any disagreement between us here?"

  "Oh no! But I thought you blamed me. I thought you were against me. This is such a comfort!"

  "This comfort you might have had sooner, Fanny, had you sought it. But how could you possibly suppose me against you? How could you imagine me an advocate for marriage without love? Were I even careless in general on such matters, how could you imagine me so where your happiness was at stake?"

  "My uncle thought me wrong, and I knew he had been talking to you."

  "As far as you have gone, Fanny, I think you perfectly right. I may be sorry, I may be surprised--though hardly _that_, for you had not had time to attach yourself--but I think you perfectly right. Can it admit of a question? It is disgraceful to us if it does. You did not love him; nothing could have justified your accepting him."

  Fanny had not felt so comfortable for days and days.

  "So far your conduct has been faultless, and they were quite mistaken who wished you to do otherwise. But the matter does not end here. Crawford's is no common attachment; he perseveres, with the hope of creating that regard which had not been created before. This, we know, must be a work of time. But" (with an affectionate smile) "let him succeed at last, Fanny, let him succeed at last. You have proved yourself upright and disinterested, prove yourself grateful and tender-hearted; and then you will be the perfect model of a woman which I have always believed you born for."

  "Oh! never, never, never! he never will succeed with me." And she spoke with a warmth which quite astonished Edmund, and which she blushed at the recollection of herself, when she saw his look, and heard him reply, "Never! Fanny!-- so very determined and positive! This is not like yourself, your rational self."

  "I mean," she cried, sorrowfully correcting herself, "that I _think_ I never shall, as far as the future can be answered for; I think I never shall return his regard."

  "I must hope better things. I am aware, more aware than Crawford can be, that the man who means to make you love him (you having due notice of his intentions) must have very uphill work, for there are all your early attachments and habits in battle array; and before he can get your heart for his own use he has to unfasten it from all the holds upon things animate and inanimate, which so many years' growth have confirmed, and which are considerably tightened for the moment by the very idea of separation. I know that the apprehension of being forced to quit Mansfield will for a time be arming you against him. I wish he had not been obliged to tell you what he was trying for. I wish he had known you as well as I do, Fanny. Between us, I think we should have won you. My theoretical and his practical knowledge together could not have failed. He should have worked upon my plans. I must hope, however, that time, proving him (as I firmly believe it will) to deserve you by his steady affection, will give him his reward. I cannot suppose that you have not the _wish_ to love him--the natural wish of gratitude. You must have some feeling of that sort. You must be sorry for your own indifference."

  "We are so totally unlike," said Fanny, avoiding a direct answer, "we are so very, very different in all our inclinations and ways, that I consider it as quite impossible we should ever be tolerably happy together, even if I _could_ like him. There never were two people more dissimilar. We have not one taste in common. We should be miserable.

  "You are mistaken, Fanny. The dissimilarity is not so strong. You are quite enough alike. You _have_ tastes in common. You have moral and literary tastes in common. You have both warm hearts and benevolent feelings; and, Fanny, who that heard him read, and saw you listen to Shakespeare the other night, will think you unfitted as companions? You forget yourself: there is a decided difference in your tempers, I allow. He is lively, you are serious; but so much the better: his spirits will support yours. It is your disposition to be easily dejected and to fancy difficulties greater than they are. His cheerfulness will counteract this. He sees difficulties nowhere: and his pleasantness and gaiety will be a constant support to you. Your being so far unlike, Fanny, does not in the smallest degree make against the probability of your happiness together: do not imagine it. I am myself convinced that it is rather a favourable circumstance. I am perfectly persuaded that the tempers had better be unlike: I mean unlike in the flow of the spirits, in the manners, in the inclination for much or little company, in the propensity to talk or to be silent, to be grave or to be gay. Some opposition here is, I am thoroughly convinced, friendly to matrimonial happiness. I exclude extremes, of course; and a very close resemblance in all those points would be the likeliest way to produce an extreme. A counteraction, gentle and continual, is the best safeguard of manners and conduct."

  Full well could Fanny guess where his thoughts were now: Miss Crawford's power was all returning. He had been speaking of her cheerfully from the hour of his coming home. His avoiding her was quite at an end. He had dined at the Parsonage only the preceding day.

  After leaving him to his happier thoughts for some minutes, Fanny, feeling it due to herself, returned to Mr. Crawford, and said, "It is not merely in _temper_ that I consider him as totally unsuited to myself; though, in _that_ respect, I think the difference between us too great, infinitely too great: his spirits often oppress me; but there is something in him which I object to still more. I must say, cousin, that I cannot approve his character. I have not thought well of him from the time of the play. I then saw him behaving, as it appeared to me, so very improperly and unfeelingly--I may speak of it now because it is all over--so improperly by poor Mr. Rushworth, not seeming to care how he exposed or hurt him, and paying attentions to my cousin Maria, which--in short, at the time of the play, I received an impression which will never be got over."

  "My dear Fanny," replied Edmund, scarcely hearing her to the end, "let us not, any of us, be judged by what we appeared at that period of general folly. The time of the play is a time which I hate to recollect. Maria was wrong, Crawford was wrong, we were all wrong together; but none so wrong as myself. Compared with me, all the rest were blameless. I was playing the fool with my eyes open."

  "As a bystander," said Fanny, "perhaps I saw more than you did; and I do think that Mr. Rushworth was sometimes very jealous."

  "Very possibly. No wonder. Nothing could be more improper than the whole business. I am shocked whenever I think that Maria could be capable of it; but, if she could undertake the part, we must not be surprised at the rest."

  "Before the play, I am much mistaken if _Julia_ did not think he was paying her attentions.

  "Julia! I have heard before from some one of his being in love with Julia; but I could never see anything of it. And, Fanny, though I hope I do justice to my sisters' good qualities, I think it very possible that they might, one or both, be more desirous of being admired by Crawford, and might shew that desire rather more unguardedly than was perfectly prudent. I can remember that they were evidently fond of his society; and with such encouragement, a man like Crawford, lively, and it may be, a little unthinking, might be led on to--there could be nothing very striking, because it is clear that he had no pretensions: his heart was reserved for you. And I must say, that its being for you has raised him inconceivably in my opinion. It does him the highest honour; it shews his proper estimation of the blessing of domestic happiness and pure attachment. It proves him unspoilt by his uncle. It proves him, in short, everything that I had been used to wish to believe him, and feared he was not."

  "I am persuaded that he does not think, as he ought, on serious subjects."

  "Say, rather, that he has not thought at all upon serious subjects, which I believe to be a good deal the case. How could it be otherwise, with such an education and adviser? Under the disadvantages, indeed, which both have had, is it not wonderful that they should be what they are? Crawford's _feelings_, I am ready to acknowledge, have hitherto been too much his guides. Happily, those feelings have generally been good. You will supply the rest; and a most fortunate man he is to attach himself to such a creature-- to a woman who, firm as a rock in her own principles, has a gentleness of character so well adapted to recommend them. He has chosen his partner, indeed, with rare felicity. He will make you happy, Fanny; I know he will make you happy; but you will make him everything."

  "I would not engage in such a charge," cried Fanny, in a shrinking accent; "in such an office of high responsibility!"

  "As usual, believing yourself unequal to anything! fancying everything too much for you! Well, though I may not be able to persuade you into different feelings, you will be persuaded into them, I trust. I confess myself sincerely anxious that you may. I have no common interest in Crawford's well-doing. Next to your happiness, Fanny, his has the first claim on me. You are aware of my having no common interest in Crawford."

  Fanny was too well aware of it to have anything to say; and they walked on together some fifty yards in mutual silence and abstraction. Edmund first began again--

  "I was very much pleased by her manner of speaking of it yesterday, particularly pleased, because I had not depended upon her seeing everything in so just a light. I knew she was very fond of you; but yet I was afraid of her not estimating your worth to her brother quite as it deserved, and of her regretting that he had not rather fixed on some woman of distinction or fortune. I was afraid of the bias of those worldly maxims, which she has been too much used to hear. But it was very different. She spoke of you, Fanny, just as she ought. She desires the connexion as warmly as your uncle or myself. We had a long talk about it. I should not have mentioned the subject, though very anxious to know her sentiments; but I had not been in the room five minutes before she began introducing it with all that openness of heart, and sweet peculiarity of manner, that spirit and ingenuousness which are so much a part of herself. Mrs. Grant laughed at her for her rapidity." "Was Mrs. Grant in the room, then?"

  "Yes, when I reached the house I found the two sisters together by themselves; and when once we had begun, we had not done with you, Fanny, till Crawford and Dr. Grant came in."

  "It is above a week since I saw Miss Crawford."

  "Yes, she laments it; yet owns it may have been best. You will see her, however, before she goes. She is very angry with you, Fanny; you must be prepared for that. She calls herself very angry, but you can imagine her anger. It is the regret and disappointment of a sister, who thinks her brother has a right to everything he may wish for, at the first moment. She is hurt, as you would be for William; but she loves and esteems you with all her heart."

  "I knew she would be very angry with me."

  "My dearest Fanny," cried Edmund, pressing her arm closer to him, "do not let the idea of her anger distress you. It is anger to be talked of rather than felt. Her heart is made for love and kindness, not for resentment. I wish you could have overheard her tribute of praise; I wish you could have seen her countenance, when she said that you _should_ be Henry's wife. And I observed that she always spoke of you as 'Fanny,' which she was never used to do; and it had a sound of most sisterly cordiality."

  "And Mrs. Grant, did she say--did she speak; was she there all the time?"

  "Yes, she was agreeing exactly with her sister. The surprise of your refusal, Fanny, seems to have been unbounded. That you could refuse such a man as Henry Crawford seems more than they can understand. I said what I could for you; but in good truth, as they stated the case--you must prove yourself to be in your senses as soon as you can by a different conduct; nothing else will satisfy them. But this is teasing you. I have done. Do not turn away from me."

  "I _should_ have thought," said Fanny, after a pause of recollection and exertion, "that every woman must have felt the possibility of a man's not being approved, not being loved by some one of her sex at least, let him be ever so generally agreeable. Let him have all the perfections in the world, I think it ought not to be set down as certain that a man must be acceptable to every woman he may happen to like himself. But, even supposing it is so, allowing Mr. Crawford to have all the claims which his sisters think he has, how was I to be prepared to meet him with any feeling answerable to his own? He took me wholly by surprise. I had not an idea that his behaviour to me before had any meaning; and surely I was not to be teaching myself to like him only because he was taking what seemed very idle notice of me. In my situation, it would have been the extreme of vanity to be forming expectations on Mr. Crawford. I am sure his sisters, rating him as they do, must have thought it so, supposing he had meant nothing. How, then, was I to be-- to be in love with him the moment he said he was with me? How was I to have an attachment at his service, as soon as it was asked for? His sisters should consider me as well as him. The higher his deserts, the more improper for me ever to have thought of him. And, and--we think very differently of the nature of women, if they can imagine a woman so very soon capable of returning an affection as this seems to imply."

  "My dear, dear Fanny, now I have the truth. I know this to be the truth; and most worthy of you are such feelings. I had attributed them to you before. I thought I could understand you. You have now given exactly the explanation which I ventured to make for you to your friend and Mrs. Grant, and they were both better satisfied, though your warm-hearted friend was still run away with a little by the enthusiasm of her fondness for Henry. I told them that you were of all human creatures the one over whom habit had most power and novelty least; and that the very circumstance of the novelty of Crawford's addresses was against him. Their being so new and so recent was all in their disfavour; that you could tolerate nothing that you were not used to; and a great deal more to the same purpose, to give them a knowledge of your character. Miss Crawford made us laugh by her plans of encouragement for her brother. She meant to urge him to persevere in the hope of being loved in time, and of having his addresses most kindly received at the end of about ten years' happy marriage."

  Fanny could with difficulty give the smile that was here asked for. Her feelings were all in revolt. She feared she had been doing wrong: saying too much, overacting the caution which she had been fancying necessary; in guarding against one evil, laying herself open to another; and to have Miss Crawford's liveliness repeated to her at such a moment, and on such a subject, was a bitter aggravation.

  Edmund saw weariness and distress in her face, and immediately resolved to forbear all farther discussion; and not even to mention the name of Crawford again, except as it might be connected with what _must_ be agreeable to her. On this principle, he soon afterwards observed-- "They go on Monday. You are sure, therefore, of seeing your friend either to-morrow or Sunday. They really go on Monday; and I was within a trifle of being persuaded to stay at Lessingby till that very day! I had almost promised it. What a difference it might have made! Those five or six days more at Lessingby might have been felt all my life."

  "You were near staying there?"

  "Very. I was most kindly pressed, and had nearly consented. Had I received any letter from Mansfield, to tell me how you were all going on, I believe I should certainly have staid; but I knew nothing that had happened here for a fortnight, and felt that I had been away long enough."

  "You spent your time pleasantly there?" "Yes; that is, it was the fault of my own mind if I did not. They were all very pleasant. I doubt their finding me so. I took uneasiness with me, and there was no getting rid of it till I was in Mansfield again."

  "The Miss Owens--you liked them, did not you?"

  "Yes, very well. Pleasant, good-humoured, unaffected girls. But I am spoilt, Fanny, for common female society. Good-humoured, unaffected girls will not do for a man who has been used to sensible women. They are two distinct orders of being. You and Miss Crawford have made me too nice."

  Still, however, Fanny was oppressed and wearied; he saw it in her looks, it could not be talked away; and attempting it no more, he led her directly, with the kind authority of a privileged guardian, into the house.

　　埃德蒙已经打定主意，提不提范妮与克劳福德之间的事情，完全由范妮决定。范妮要是不主动说，他就绝对不提这件事。但是，双方缄默了一两天之后，在父亲的敦促下，他改变了主意，想利用自己的影响为朋友帮帮忙。
　　克劳福德兄妹动身的日期定下来了，而且就近在眼前。托马斯爵士觉得，在这位年轻人离开曼斯菲尔德之前，不妨再为他做一次努力，这样一来，他赌咒发誓要忠贞不渝，就有希望维持下去。
　　托马斯爵士热切地希望克劳福德先生在这方面的人品能尽善尽美。他希望他能成为对爱情忠贞不渝的典范。他觉得，要促其实现的最好办法，是不要过久地考验他。
　　埃德蒙倒也乐意接受父亲的意见，负责处理这件事。他想知道范妮心里到底是怎么想的。她以往有什么难处，总要找他商量。他那么喜爱她，现在要是不跟他讲心里话，他可受不了。他希望自己能帮帮她的忙，觉得自己一定能帮上她的忙，除他之外，她还能向谁倾诉衷情呢？即使她不需要他出主意，她也肯定需要对他说一说，从中得到宽慰。范妮跟他疏远了，不声不响，不言不语，很不正常。他必须打破这种状态，他心里自然明白，范妮也需要他来打破这种局面。
　　“我跟她谈谈，父亲。我一有机会就跟她单独谈谈。”这是他做了如上考虑的结果。托马斯爵士告诉他说，眼下她正一个人在灌木林里散步，他马上便找她去了。
　　“我是来陪你散步的，范妮，”他说。“可以吗？（挎起了她的胳膊）我们很久没在一起舒心地散散步了。”
　　范妮用神情表示同意，但没有说话。她情绪低落。
　　“不过，范妮，”埃德蒙马上又说，“要想舒心地散散步，光在这砾石路上踱步还不行，还必须做点别的什么事。你得和我谈谈。我知道你有心事。我知道你在想什么。你不要以为没有人告诉我。难道我只能听大家对我讲，唯独不能听范妮本人给我讲讲吗？”
　　范妮既激动又悲伤，回答说：“既然你听大家对你讲了，表哥，那我就没有什么可讲的了。”
　　“不是讲事情的经过，而是讲你的想法，范妮。你的想法只有你能告诉我。不过，我不想强迫你。如果你不想说，我就不再提了。我原以为，你讲出来心里能轻松一些。”
　　“我担心我们的想法完全不同，我就是把心里话说出来，也未必能感到轻松。”
　　“你认为我们的想法不同吗？我可不这样看。我敢说，如果把我们的想法拿来比较一下，我们会发现它们像过去一样是相似的。现在就谈正题——我认为只要你能接受克劳福德的求婚，这门亲事非常有利，也非常难得。我认为全家人都希望你能接受，这是很自然的事情。不过，我同样认为，既然你不能接受，你在拒绝他时所做的一切也完全是理所应该的。我这样看，我们之间会有什么不一致的看法吗？”
　　“噢，没有！我原以为你要责备我。我原以为你在反对我。这对我是莫大的安慰。”
　　“如果你寻求这一安慰的话，你早就得到了。你怎么会设想我在反对你呢？你怎么会认为我也主张没有爱情的婚姻呢？即使我通常不大关心这类事情，但是在你的幸福受到威胁的情况下，你怎么能想得出我会不闻不问呢？”
　　“姨父认为我不对，而且我知道他和你谈过了。”
　　“就你目前的情况而言，范妮，我认为你做得完全对。我可能感到遗憾，我可能感到惊奇——也许连这都不会，因为你还来不及对他产生感情。我觉得你做得完全对。难道这还有什么可争议的吗？争议对我们也没有什么光彩的。你并不爱他——那就没有什么理由非要让你接受他的爱。”
　　范妮多少天来从没这样心情舒畅过。
　　“迄今为止你的行为是无可指摘的，谁想反对你这样做，那就大错特错了。但是事情并没有到此结束。克劳福德的求爱与众不同，他锲而不舍，想树立过去未曾树立的好形象。我们知道，这不是一天两天能办得到的。不过（亲切地一笑），让他最后成功，范妮，让他最后成功。你已经证明你是正直无私的，现在再证明你知恩图报，心肠软。这样你就成了一个完美的妇女典型，我总认为你生来就要成为这种典型。”
　　“噢！绝对不会，绝对不会，绝对不会。他决不会在我这里得逞。”范妮说得非常激动，埃德蒙大吃一惊。她稍加镇静之后验也红了。这时她看到了他的神色，听见他在说：“绝对不会，范妮，话说得这么武断，这么绝！这不像你说的话，不像通情达理的你说的话。”
　　“我的意思是，”范妮伤心地自我纠正，嚷道，“只要我可以为未来担保，我认为我绝对不会——我认为我绝对不会回报他的情意。”
　　“我应该往好处想。我很清楚，比克劳福德还清楚，他想让你爱他（你已经充分看清了他的意图），这谈何容易，你以往的感情、以往的习惯都在严阵以待。他要想赢得你的心，就得把它从牢系着它的有生命、无生命的事物上解脱开来，而这些牵系物经过这么多年已变得非常牢固，眼下一听说要解开它们，反而拴得紧多了。我知道，你担心会被迫离开曼斯菲尔德，在一段时间里，这个顾虑会成为你拒绝他的理由。他要是还没对你说他有什么追求就好了。他要是像我一样了解你就好了，范妮。跟你私下里说一句，我心想我们可能会让你回心转意。我的理论知识和他的实践经验加在一起，不会不起作用。他应该按照我的计划行事。不过我想，他以坚定不移的感情向你表明他值得你爱，长此下去，总会有所收获。我料想，你不会没有爱他的愿望——那种由于感激而产生的自然愿望。你一定会有这种类似的心情。你一定为自己的冷漠态度感到内疚。”
　　“我和他完全不同，”范妮避免直接回答，“我们的爱好，我们的为人都大不相同，我想，即使我能喜欢他，我们在一起也不可能怎么幸福。绝没有哪两个人比我们俩更不相同了。我们的情趣没有一点是一致的。我们在一起会很痛苦的。”
　　“你说错了，范妮。你们的差异并没有那么大。你们十分相像。你们有共同的情趣。你们有共同的道德观念和文学修养。你们都有热烈的感情和仁慈的心肠。我说范妮，那天晚上，谁听了他朗诵莎士比亚的剧本，又看到你在一边听，会认为你们不适合做伴侣呢？你自己忘记了。我承认，你们在性情上有明显的差异。他活泼，你严肃。不过，这反倒更好，他可以提高你的兴致。你的心情容易沮丧，你容易把困难看得过大。他的开朗能对此起到点抵消作用。他从不把困难放在眼里，他的欢快和风趣将是你永远的支柱。范妮，你们两人有巨大差异并不意味你们俩在一起不会幸福。你不要那样想。我倒认为这是个有利因素。我极力主张，两人的性情最好不一样。我的意思是说，兴致高低不一样，风度上不一样，愿跟人多交往还是少交往上不一样，爱说话还是不爱说话上不一样，严肃还是欢快上不一样。我完全相信，在这些方面彼此有些不同，倒有利于婚后的幸福。当然，我不赞成走极端。在这些方面双方过分相像，就极有可能导致极端。彼此不断地来点温和的中和，这是对行为举止的最好保障。”
　　范妮完全能猜到他现在的心思。克劳福德小姐又恢复了她的魅力。从他走进家门的那一刻起，他就在兴致勃勃地谈论她。他对她的回避已告结束。头一天他刚在牧师府上吃过饭。
　　范妮任他沉湎于幸福的遐想，好一阵工夫没说话，后来觉得该把话题引回到克劳福德先生身上，便说道：“我认为他和我完全不合适，还不只是因为性情问题，虽说在这方面，我觉得我们两人的差别太大，大到不能再大的程度。他的精神劲经常让我受不了——不过他还有更让我反感的地方。表哥，跟你说吧，我看不惯他的人品。从演戏的那个时候起，我就一直对他印象不好。那时我就觉得他行为不端，不替别人着想——我现在可以说了，因为事情已经过去了——他太对不起可怜的拉什沃思先生了，似乎毫不留情地出他的丑，伤害他的自尊心，一味地向玛丽亚表姐献殷勤，这使我——总而言之，在演戏的时候给我的印象，我永远也忘不掉。”
　　“亲爱的范妮，”埃德蒙没听她说完就答道，“我们不要用大家都在胡闹的那个时候的表现来判断我们的为人，对谁都不能这样判断。我们演戏的时候，是我很不愿意回顾的一个时期。玛丽亚有错，克劳福德有错，我们大家都有错，但是错误最大的是我。比起我来，别人都不算错。我是睁大了眼睛干蠢事。”
　　“作为一个旁观者，”范妮说，“我也许比你看得更清楚。我觉得拉什沃思先生有时候很妒忌。”
　　“很可能。这也难怪。整个事情太不成体统了。一想到玛丽亚能做出这种事来，我就感到震惊。不过，既然她都担任了那样的角色，其余的也就不足为奇了。”
　　“在演戏之前，如果朱莉娅认为他不在追求她，那就算我大错特错。”
　　“朱莉娅！我曾听谁说过他爱上了朱莉娅，可我一点也看不出来。范妮，虽然我不愿意贬低我两个妹妹的品质，但我认为她们中的一个希望，或者两个都希望受到克劳福德的爱慕，可能是由于不够谨慎的缘故，流露出了这种愿望。我还记得，她们显然都喜欢和他来往。受到这样的鼓励，一个像克劳福德这样活泼的人，就可能有欠考虑，就可能被引上——这也没有什么了不起的，现在看得很清楚，他对她们根本无意，而是把心交给了你。跟你说吧，正因为他把心交给了你，他才大大提高了他在我心目中的地位。这使我对他无比敬重。这表明他非常看重家庭的幸福和纯洁的爱情。这表明他没有被他叔叔教坏。总而言之，这表明他正是我所希望的那种人，全然不是我所担心的那种人。”
　　“我认为，他对严肃的问题缺乏认真的思考。”
　　“不如说，他对严肃的问题就根本没有思考过。我觉得这才是他的真实情况。他受的是那种教育，又有那么个人给他出主意，他怎么能不这样呢？他们两人都受着不良环境的影响，在那种不利的条件下，他们能变成这个样子，有什么可惊奇的呢？我认为，迄今为止，克劳福德一直被他的情感所左右。历幸的是，他的情感总的说来是健康的，余下的要靠你来弥补。他非常幸运，爱上了这样一位姑娘——这位姑娘在行为准则上坚如磐石，性格上又那么温文尔雅，完全可以使他受到熏陶。他在选择对象的问题上真是太有福气了。他会使你幸福，范妮，我知道他会使你幸福。不过，你会使他要怎么好就怎么好。”
　　“我才不愿承担这样的任务呢，”范妮以畏缩的口气嚷道。“我才不愿承担这么大的责任呢！”
　　“你又像平常一样，认为自己什么都不行！认为自己什么都胜任不了！好吧，我改变不了你的看法，但我相信你是会改变的。说实话，我衷心地盼望你能改变。我非常关心克劳福德的幸福。范妮，除了你的幸福之外，我最关心的就是他的幸福。你也知道，我对克劳福德非常关心。”
　　范妮对此十分清楚，无话可说。两人向前走了五十来码，都在默默不语地想着各自的心思。又是埃德蒙先开的口：
　　“玛丽昨天说起这件事时的样子让我非常高兴，让我特别高兴，因为我没想到她对样样事情都看得那么妥当。我早就知道她喜欢你，可我又担心她会认为你配不上她哥哥，担心她会为她哥哥没有挑一个有身份、有财产的女人而遗憾。我担心她听惯了那些世俗的伦理，难免会产生偏见。不过，实际情况并非如此。她说起你的时候，范妮，话说得入情入理。她像你姨父或我一样希望这门亲事能成。我们对这个问题谈了好久。我本来并不想提起这件事，虽说我很想了解一下她的看法。我进屋不到五分钟，她就以她那特有的开朗性格，亲切可爱的神态，以及纯真的感情，向我说起了这件事。格兰特太太还笑她迫不及待呢。”
　　“那格兰特太太也在屋里啦？”
　　“是的，我到她家的时候，看到她们姐妹俩在一起。我们一谈起你来，范妮，就谈个没完，后来克劳福德和格兰特先生就进来了。”
　　“我已经有一个多星期没看到克劳福德小姐了。”
　　“是的，她也为此感到遗憾，可她又说，这样也许更好。不过，她走之前，你会见到她的。她很生你的气，范妮，你要有个精神准备。她自称很生气，不过你可以想象她是怎么生气法。那不过是做妹妹的替哥哥感到遗憾和失望。她认为她哥哥无论想要什么，都有权利马上弄到手。她的自尊心受到了伤害，假若事情发生在威廉身上，你也会这样的。不过，她全心全意地爱你，敬重你。”
　　“我早就知道她会很生我的气。”
　　“我最亲爱的范妮，”埃德蒙紧紧夹住她的胳膊，嚷道，“不要听说她生气就感到伤心。她只是嘴上说说，心里未必真生气。她那颗心生来只会爱别人，善待别人，不会记恨别人。你要是听到她是怎样夸奖你的，在她说到你应该做亨利的妻子的时候，再看到她脸上那副喜滋滋的样子，那就好了。我注意到，她说起你的时候，总是叫你‘范妮’，她以前可从没这样叫过。像是小姑子称呼嫂子，听起来极其亲热。”
　　“格兰特太太说什么——她说话没有——她不是一直在场吗？”
　　“是的，她完全同意她妹妹的意见。你的拒绝，范妮，似乎使她们感到万分惊奇。你居然会拒绝亨利·克劳福德这样一个人，她们似乎无法理解。我尽量替你解释，不过说实话，正像她们说的那样——你必须尽快改变态度，证明你十分理智，不然她们是不会满意的。不过，我这是跟你开玩笑。我说完了，你可不要不理我。”
　　“我倒认为，”范妮镇静了一下，强打精神说，“女人们个个都会觉得存在这种可能：一个男人即使人人都说好，至少会有某个女人不答应他，不爱他。即使他把世界上的可爱之处都集中在他一个人身上，我想他也不应该就此认为，他自己想爱谁谁就一定会答应他。即便如此，就算克劳福德先生真像他的两个姐妹想象的那么好，我怎么可能一下子跟他情愫相通呢？他使我大为骇然。我以前从没想到他对我的行为有什么用意。我当然不能因为他对我似理非理的，就自作多情地去喜欢他。我处于这样的地位，如果还要去打克劳福德先生的主意，那岂不是太没有自知之明了。我敢断定，他若是无意于我的话，他的两个姐妹把他看得那么好，她们肯定会认为我自不量力，没有自知之明。那我怎么能——怎么能他一说爱我，我就立即去爱他呢？我怎么能他一要我爱他，我就马上爱上他呢？他的姐妹为他考虑，也应该替我想一想。他的条件越是好，我就越不应该往他身上想。还有，还有——如果她们认为一个女人会这么快就接受别人的爱——看来她们就是这样认为的，那我和她们对于女性天性的看法就大不相同了。”
　　“我亲爱的，亲爱的范妮，现在我知道真情了。我知道这是真情。你有这样的想法真是极其难得。我以前就是这样看你的。我以为我能了解你。你刚才所做的解释，跟我替你向你的朋友和格兰特太太所做的解释完全一样，她们两人听了都比较想得通，只不过你那位热心的朋友由于喜欢亨利的缘故，还有点难以平静。我对她们说，你是一个最受习惯支配、最不求新奇的人，克劳福德用这么新奇的方式向你求婚，这对他没有好处。那么新奇，那么新鲜，完全于事无补。凡是你不习惯的，你一概受不了。我还做了许多其他的解释，让她们了解你的性格。克劳福德小姐述说了她鼓励哥哥的计划，逗得我们大笑起来。她要鼓励亨利不屈不挠地追求下去，怀着迟早会被接受的希望，希望他在度过大约十年的幸福婚姻生活之后，他的求爱才会被十分乐意地接受。”
　　范妮勉强地敷衍一笑。她心里非常反感。她担心自己做错了事，话说得过多，超过了自己认为必须警惕的范围，为了提防一个麻烦，却招来了另一个麻烦①（译注：① “提防一个麻烦”，系指小心不要泄露她对埃德蒙的感情；“招来另一个麻烦”，系指让埃德蒙觉得她有可能跟克劳福德好。），惹得埃德蒙在这样的时刻，借着这样的话题，硬把克劳福德小姐的玩笑话学给她听，真让她大为恼火。
　　埃德蒙从她脸上看出了倦怠和不快，立即决定不再谈这个问题，甚至不再提起克劳福德这个姓，除非与她肯定爱听的事情有关。本着这个原则，他过了不久说道：“他们星期一走。因此，你不是明天就是星期天定会见到你的朋友。他们真是星期一走啊！我差一点同意在莱辛比待到这一天才回来！我差一点答应了。那样一来问题就大了。要是在莱辛比多待五六天，我一辈子都会感到遗憾。”
　　“你差一点在那儿待下去吗？”
　　“差一点。人家非常热情地挽留我，我差一点就同意了。我要是能收到一封曼斯菲尔德的来信，告诉我你们的情况，我想我肯定会待下去。但是，我不知道两个星期来这里发生了什么，觉得我在外边住的时间够长了。”
　　“你在那里过得愉快吧。”
　　“是的。就是说，如果不愉快的话，那要怪我自己。他们都很讨人喜欢。我怀疑他们是否觉得我也讨人喜欢。我心里不大自在，而且怎么都摆脱不了，回到曼斯菲尔德才好起来。”
　　“欧文家的几位小姐——你喜欢她们吧？”
　　“是的，非常喜欢。可爱、和善、纯真的姑娘。不过，范妮，我已经给宠坏了，和一般的姑娘合不来了。对于一个和聪慧的女士们交往惯了的男人来说，和善、纯真的姑娘是远远不够的。她们属于两个不同的等级。你和克劳福德小姐使我变得过于挑剔了。”
　　然而，范妮依然情绪低沉，精神倦怠。埃德蒙从她的神情中看得出来，劝说是没有用的。他不打算再说了，便以一个监护人的权威，亲切地领着她径直进了大宅。　

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 37楼发表于: 2013-10-29 0

Chapter Thirty-six

  Edmund now believed himself perfectly acquainted with all that Fanny could tell, or could leave to be conjectured of her sentiments, and he was satisfied. It had been, as he before presumed, too hasty a measure on Crawford's side, and time must be given to make the idea first familiar, and then agreeable to her. She must be used to the consideration of his being in love with her, and then a return of affection might not be very distant.

  He gave this opinion as the result of the conversation to his father; and recommended there being nothing more said to her: no farther attempts to influence or persuade; but that everything should be left to Crawford's assiduities, and the natural workings of her own mind.

  Sir Thomas promised that it should be so. Edmund's account of Fanny's disposition he could believe to be just; he supposed she had all those feelings, but he must consider it as very unfortunate that she _had_; for, less willing than his son to trust to the future, he could not help fearing that if such very long allowances of time and habit were necessary for her, she might not have persuaded herself into receiving his addresses properly before the young man's inclination for paying them were over. There was nothing to be done, however, but to submit quietly and hope the best.

  The promised visit from "her friend," as Edmund called Miss Crawford, was a formidable threat to Fanny, and she lived in continual terror of it. As a sister, so partial and so angry, and so little scrupulous of what she said, and in another light so triumphant and secure, she was in every way an object of painful alarm. Her displeasure, her penetration, and her happiness were all fearful to encounter; and the dependence of having others present when they met was Fanny's only support in looking forward to it. She absented herself as little as possible from Lady Bertram, kept away from the East room, and took no solitary walk in the shrubbery, in her caution to avoid any sudden attack.

  She succeeded. She was safe in the breakfast-room, with her aunt, when Miss Crawford did come; and the first misery over, and Miss Crawford looking and speaking with much less particularity of expression than she had anticipated, Fanny began to hope there would be nothing worse to be endured than a half-hour of moderate agitation. But here she hoped too much; Miss Crawford was not the slave of opportunity. She was determined to see Fanny alone, and therefore said to her tolerably soon, in a low voice, "I must speak to you for a few minutes somewhere"; words that Fanny felt all over her, in all her pulses and all her nerves. Denial was impossible. Her habits of ready submission, on the contrary, made her almost instantly rise and lead the way out of the room. She did it with wretched feelings, but it was inevitable.

  They were no sooner in the hall than all restraint of countenance was over on Miss Crawford's side. She immediately shook her head at Fanny with arch, yet affectionate reproach, and taking her hand, seemed hardly able to help beginning directly. She said nothing, however, but, "Sad, sad girl! I do not know when I shall have done scolding you," and had discretion enough to reserve the rest till they might be secure of having four walls to themselves. Fanny naturally turned upstairs, and took her guest to the apartment which was now always fit for comfortable use; opening the door, however, with a most aching heart, and feeling that she had a more distressing scene before her than ever that spot had yet witnessed. But the evil ready to burst on her was at least delayed by the sudden change in Miss Crawford's ideas; by the strong effect on her mind which the finding herself in the East room again produced.

  "Ha!" she cried, with instant animation, "am I here again? The East room! Once only was I in this room before"; and after stopping to look about her, and seemingly to retrace all that had then passed, she added, "Once only before. Do you remember it? I came to rehearse. Your cousin came too; and we had a rehearsal. You were our audience and prompter. A delightful rehearsal. I shall never forget it. Here we were, just in this part of the room: here was your cousin, here was I, here were the chairs. Oh! why will such things ever pass away?"

  Happily for her companion, she wanted no answer. Her mind was entirely self-engrossed. She was in a reverie of sweet remembrances.

  "The scene we were rehearsing was so very remarkable! The subject of it so very--very--what shall I say? He was to be describing and recommending matrimony to me. I think I see him now, trying to be as demure and composed as Anhalt ought, through the two long speeches. 'When two sympathetic hearts meet in the marriage state, matrimony may be called a happy life.' I suppose no time can ever wear out the impression I have of his looks and voice as he said those words. It was curious, very curious, that we should have such a scene to play! If I had the power of recalling any one week of my existence, it should be that week--that acting week. Say what you would, Fanny, it should be _that_; for I never knew such exquisite happiness in any other. His sturdy spirit to bend as it did! Oh! it was sweet beyond expression. But alas, that very evening destroyed it all. That very evening brought your most unwelcome uncle. Poor Sir Thomas, who was glad to see you? Yet, Fanny, do not imagine I would now speak disrespectfully of Sir Thomas, though I certainly did hate him for many a week. No, I do him justice now. He is just what the head of such a family should be. Nay, in sober sadness, I believe I now love you all." And having said so, with a degree of tenderness and consciousness which Fanny had never seen in her before, and now thought only too becoming, she turned away for a moment to recover herself. "I have had a little fit since I came into this room, as you may perceive," said she presently, with a playful smile, "but it is over now; so let us sit down and be comfortable; for as to scolding you, Fanny, which I came fully intending to do, I have not the heart for it when it comes to the point." And embracing her very affectionately, "Good, gentle Fanny! when I think of this being the last time of seeing you for I do not know how long, I feel it quite impossible to do anything but love you."

  Fanny was affected. She had not foreseen anything of this, and her feelings could seldom withstand the melancholy influence of the word "last." She cried as if she had loved Miss Crawford more than she possibly could; and Miss Crawford, yet farther softened by the sight of such emotion, hung about her with fondness, and said, "I hate to leave you. I shall see no one half so amiable where I am going. Who says we shall not be sisters? I know we shall. I feel that we are born to be connected; and those tears convince me that you feel it too, dear Fanny."

  Fanny roused herself, and replying only in part, said, "But you are only going from one set of friends to another. You are going to a very particular friend."

  "Yes, very true. Mrs. Fraser has been my intimate friend for years. But I have not the least inclination to go near her. I can think only of the friends I am leaving: my excellent sister, yourself, and the Bertrams in general. You have all so much more _heart_ among you than one finds in the world at large. You all give me a feeling of being able to trust and confide in you, which in common intercourse one knows nothing of. I wish I had settled with Mrs. Fraser not to go to her till after Easter, a much better time for the visit, but now I cannot put her off. And when I have done with her I must go to her sister, Lady Stornaway, because _she_ was rather my most particular friend of the two, but I have not cared much for _her_ these three years."

  After this speech the two girls sat many minutes silent, each thoughtful: Fanny meditating on the different sorts of friendship in the world, Mary on something of less philosophic tendency. _She_ first spoke again.

  "How perfectly I remember my resolving to look for you upstairs, and setting off to find my way to the East room, without having an idea whereabouts it was! How well I remember what I was thinking of as I came along, and my looking in and seeing you here sitting at this table at work; and then your cousin's astonishment, when he opened the door, at seeing me here! To be sure, your uncle's returning that very evening! There never was anything quite like it."

  Another short fit of abstraction followed, when, shaking it off, she thus attacked her companion.

  "Why, Fanny, you are absolutely in a reverie. Thinking, I hope, of one who is always thinking of you. Oh! that I could transport you for a short time into our circle in town, that you might understand how your power over Henry is thought of there! Oh! the envyings and heartburnings of dozens and dozens; the wonder, the incredulity that will be felt at hearing what you have done! For as to secrecy, Henry is quite the hero of an old romance, and glories in his chains. You should come to London to know how to estimate your conquest. If you were to see how he is courted, and how I am courted for his sake! Now, I am well aware that I shall not be half so welcome to Mrs. Fraser in consequence of his situation with you. When she comes to know the truth she will, very likely, wish me in Northamptonshire again; for there is a daughter of Mr. Fraser, by a first wife, whom she is wild to get married, and wants Henry to take. Oh! she has been trying for him to such a degree. Innocent and quiet as you sit here, you cannot have an idea of the _sensation_ that you will be occasioning, of the curiosity there will be to see you, of the endless questions I shall have to answer! Poor Margaret Fraser will be at me for ever about your eyes and your teeth, and how you do your hair, and who makes your shoes. I wish Margaret were married, for my poor friend's sake, for I look upon the Frasers to be about as unhappy as most other married people. And yet it was a most desirable match for Janet at the time. We were all delighted. She could not do otherwise than accept him, for he was rich, and she had nothing; but he turns out ill-tempered and _exigeant_, and wants a young woman, a beautiful young woman of five-and-twenty, to be as steady as himself. And my friend does not manage him well; she does not seem to know how to make the best of it. There is a spirit of irritation which, to say nothing worse, is certainly very ill-bred. In their house I shall call to mind the conjugal manners of Mansfield Parsonage with respect. Even Dr. Grant does shew a thorough confidence in my sister, and a certain consideration for her judgment, which makes one feel there _is_ attachment; but of that I shall see nothing with the Frasers. I shall be at Mansfield for ever, Fanny. My own sister as a wife, Sir Thomas Bertram as a husband, are my standards of perfection. Poor Janet has been sadly taken in, and yet there was nothing improper on her side: she did not run into the match inconsiderately; there was no want of foresight. She took three days to consider of his proposals, and during those three days asked the advice of everybody connected with her whose opinion was worth having, and especially applied to my late dear aunt, whose knowledge of the world made her judgment very generally and deservedly looked up to by all the young people of her acquaintance, and she was decidedly in favour of Mr. Fraser. This seems as if nothing were a security for matrimonial comfort. I have not so much to say for my friend Flora, who jilted a very nice young man in the Blues for the sake of that horrid Lord Stornaway, who has about as much sense, Fanny, as Mr. Rushworth, but much worse-looking, and with a blackguard character. I _had_ my doubts at the time about her being right, for he has not even the air of a gentleman, and now I am sure she was wrong. By the bye, Flora Ross was dying for Henry the first winter she came out. But were I to attempt to tell you of all the women whom I have known to be in love with him, I should never have done. It is you, only you, insensible Fanny, who can think of him with anything like indifference. But are you so insensible as you profess yourself? No, no, I see you are not."

  There was, indeed, so deep a blush over Fanny's face at that moment as might warrant strong suspicion in a predisposed mind.

  "Excellent creature! I will not tease you. Everything shall take its course. But, dear Fanny, you must allow that you were not so absolutely unprepared to have the question asked as your cousin fancies. It is not possible but that you must have had some thoughts on the subject, some surmises as to what might be. You must have seen that he was trying to please you by every attention in his power. Was not he devoted to you at the ball? And then before the ball, the necklace! Oh! you received it just as it was meant. You were as conscious as heart could desire. I remember it perfectly."

  "Do you mean, then, that your brother knew of the necklace beforehand? Oh! Miss Crawford, _that_ was not fair."

  "Knew of it! It was his own doing entirely, his own thought. I am ashamed to say that it had never entered my head, but I was delighted to act on his proposal for both your sakes."

  "I will not say," replied Fanny, "that I was not half afraid at the time of its being so, for there was something in your look that frightened me, but not at first; I was as unsuspicious of it at first--indeed, indeed I was. It is as true as that I sit here. And had I had an idea of it, nothing should have induced me to accept the necklace. As to your brother's behaviour, certainly I was sensible of a particularity: I had been sensible of it some little time, perhaps two or three weeks; but then I considered it as meaning nothing: I put it down as simply being his way, and was as far from supposing as from wishing him to have any serious thoughts of me. I had not, Miss Crawford, been an inattentive observer of what was passing between him and some part of this family in the summer and autumn. I was quiet, but I was not blind. I could not but see that Mr. Crawford allowed himself in gallantries which did mean nothing."

  "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."

  Fanny shook her head. "I cannot think well of a man who sports with any woman's feelings; and there may often be a great deal more suffered than a stander-by can judge of."

  "I do not defend him. I leave him entirely to your mercy, and when he has got you at Everingham, I do not care how much you lecture him. But this I will say, that his fault, the liking to make girls a little in love with him, is not half so dangerous to a wife's happiness as a tendency to fall in love himself, which he has never been addicted to. And I do seriously and truly believe that he is attached to you in a way that he never was to any woman before; that he loves you with all his heart, and will love you as nearly for ever as possible. If any man ever loved a woman for ever, I think Henry will do as much for you."

  Fanny could not avoid a faint smile, but had nothing to say.

  "I cannot imagine Henry ever to have been happier," continued Mary presently, "than when he had succeeded in getting your brother's commission."

  She had made a sure push at Fanny's feelings here.

  "Oh! yes. How very, very kind of him."

  "I know he must have exerted himself very much, for I know the parties he had to move. The Admiral hates trouble, and scorns asking favours; and there are so many young men's claims to be attended to in the same way, that a friendship and energy, not very determined, is easily put by. What a happy creature William must be! I wish we could see him."

  Poor Fanny's mind was thrown into the most distressing of all its varieties. The recollection of what had been done for William was always the most powerful disturber of every decision against Mr. Crawford; and she sat thinking deeply of it till Mary, who had been first watching her complacently, and then musing on something else, suddenly called her attention by saying: "I should like to sit talking with you here all day, but we must not forget the ladies below, and so good-bye, my dear, my amiable, my excellent Fanny, for though we shall nominally part in the breakfast-parlour, I must take leave of you here. And I do take leave, longing for a happy reunion, and trusting that when we meet again, it will be under circumstances which may open our hearts to each other without any remnant or shadow of reserve."

  A very, very kind embrace, and some agitation of manner, accompanied these words.

  "I shall see your cousin in town soon: he talks of being there tolerably soon; and Sir Thomas, I dare say, in the course of the spring; and your eldest cousin, and the Rushworths, and Julia, I am sure of meeting again and again, and all but you. I have two favours to ask, Fanny: one is your correspondence. You must write to me. And the other, that you will often call on Mrs. Grant, and make her amends for my being gone."

  The first, at least, of these favours Fanny would rather not have been asked; 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 _tete-a-tete_ so much less painful than her fears had predicted.

  It was over, and she had escaped without reproaches and without detection. Her secret was still her own; and while that was the case, she thought she could resign herself to almost everything.

  In the evening there was another parting. Henry Crawford came and sat some time with them; and her spirits not being previously in the strongest state, her heart was softened for a while towards him, because he really seemed to feel. Quite unlike his usual self, he scarcely said anything. He was evidently oppressed, and Fanny must grieve for him, though hoping she might never see him again till he were the husband of some other woman.

  When it came to the moment of parting, he would take her hand, he would not be denied it; he said nothing, however, or nothing that she heard, and when he had left the room, she was better pleased that such a token of friendship had passed.

  On the morrow the Crawfords were gone.

　　埃德蒙现在认为，对于范妮的想法，他或是听她本人讲的，或是凭他自己猜的，已经掌握得一清二楚了，因而感到颇为满意。正像他先前判断的那样，克劳福德这样做有点操之过急，他应该给以充裕的时间，让范妮先熟悉他的想法，再进而觉得可取。必须让她习惯于想到他在爱她，这样一来，要不了多久她就会以情相报了。
　　他把这个意见作为这次谈话的结果告诉了父亲，建议再不要对她说什么了，再不要试图去影响她，劝说她，一切要靠克劳福德的不懈努力，靠她感情的自然发展。
　　托马斯爵士同意这么办。埃德蒙对范妮性情的描述，他可以信以为真，他认为她是会有这些想法的，不过他又觉得她有这样的想法很是不幸。他不像他儿子那样对未来充满信心，因而不能不担心，如果她需要那么长时间来习惯，也许还没等她愿意接受的时候，那年轻人可能已经不愿意再向她求爱了。不过，也没有什么办法，只能不声不响地由着她，并往最好里想。
　　她的“朋友”（埃德蒙把克劳福德小姐称做她的朋友）说是要来拜访，这对范妮来说可是个可怕的威胁，她一直生活在惊恐之中。她这位做妹妹的，那么偏爱哥哥，那么怒气冲冲，说起话来毫不顾忌。从另一角度看，她又那么盛气凌人，那么盲目自信，无论从哪方面来说，都是一个让范妮痛苦生畏的人。她的不悦，她的敏锐，她的快乐，样样都令人可怕。范妮料想起这次会面来，唯一的慰藉是可望届时有别人在场。为了提防她的突然袭击，她尽量不离开伯特伦夫人，不去东屋，不独自到灌木林里散步。
　　她这一招果然有效。克劳福德小姐到来的时候，她安然无恙地和姨妈待在早餐厅里。第一关过去了，克劳福德小姐无论在表情上还是在言语上，都远远没有料想的什么特别之处。范妮心想，只不过有点不安而已，最多再忍受半个小时。但她想得过于乐观了，克劳福德小姐可不是听任机会摆布的人。她是打定主意要和范妮单独谈一谈，因此，过了不久就悄悄对她说：“我要找个地方和你谈几分钟。”这句话让范妮大为震惊，她的每条血管、每根神经都为之震颤。她没法不答应。相反，由于温温顺顺地听人使唤惯了，她立刻站了起来，领着她走出了早餐厅。她这样做心里很不情愿，但又不能不这样做。
　　她们一来到门厅，克劳福德小姐顿时控制不住了。她立即对范妮摇了摇头，眼里露出狡黠而亲切的责怪目光，随即抓住她的手，似乎等不及要马上开口。然而．她只说了一句：“可悲呀，可悲的姑娘！我不知道什么时候才能不骂你。”她还比较谨慎，余下的话要等进到房里没人听见的时候再说。范妮自然转身上楼，把客人领进了如今总是温暖适用的那个房间。然而，她开门的时候，心里痛苦不堪，她觉得自己从没在这屋里遇到过这么令她痛苦的场面。不过，克劳福德小姐突然改变了主意，她发现自己又来到了东屋，这使她心里感慨万端，因此，要降临在范妮身上的灾难至少是推迟了。
　　“哈！”她立即兴奋起来，大声嚷道，“我又来到这里啦？东屋。以前我只进过这间屋子一次呀！”她停下来环顾四周，好像在追忆往事，然后接着说：“只进过一次。你还记得吗？我是来排练的。你表哥也来了。我们一起排练。你是我们的观众兼提词员。一次愉快的排练。我永远忘不了。我们在这儿，就在屋里的这个地方。你表哥在这儿，我在这儿，这儿是椅子。唉！这种事情为什么要一去不复返呢？”
　　算她的同伴幸运，她并不要求回答。她在全神贯注地自我回顾，陶醉于甜蜜的回忆之中。
　　“我们排练的那一场棒极啦！那一场的主题非常——非常——叫我怎么说呢？他要向我描绘结婚生活，并且向我建议结婚。他当时的情景我现在还觉得历历在目，他在背诵那两段长长的台词时，就想做到又庄重又沉静，像是安哈尔特的样子。‘当两颗情愫相通的心结合在一起的时候，婚姻就可以称为幸福生活。’他说这句话时的音容笑貌给我留下的印象，我想不论再过多久，也永远不会磨灭。奇怪，真是奇怪，我们居然会演这么一场戏！我这一生中，如果有哪一星期的经历我还能回忆起来，那就是那个星期，演戏的那个星期。不管你怎么说，范妮，就是那个星期，因为在任何其他星期里，我都不曾这样无比幸福过。那么刚强的人居然给那样折服了！噢！美妙得无以言表。可是，唉！就在那天晚上一切全完了。那天晚上，你那最不受欢迎的姨父回来了。可怜的托马斯酹士，谁愿意见到你呀？不过，范妮，不要认为我现在讲到你姨父时有失敬重，虽说我恨他恨了几个星期。不，我现在要公正地看待他。作为这样一个家庭的家长，他就该是这个样子。再说，在这伤心而冷静的时候，我相信我现在对你们人人都爱。”说完这话之后，她便带着温柔、娇羞的神情转过身去，想镇定一下。范妮以前未见过她有这般神情，现在觉得她格外妩媚了。“你可能看得出来，我一走进这间屋子就有点气冲冲的。”接着她便嬉笑着说： “不过，现在已经过去了。让我们坐下来轻松一下。范妮，我完全是为了骂你而来的，可事到临头又骂不出来了。”说着极其亲热地搂住了范妮，“好范妮，温文尔雅的范妮啊！我一想到这是最后一次和你见面，因为我不知道要走多久——我觉得除了爱你之外，其他的我什么也做不出来了。”
　　范妮被打动了。她根本没有料到这一招，她心里抵御不住“最后一次”这个字眼的悲感力量。她痛哭起来，好像她对克劳福德小姐爱得不得了。克劳福德小姐见此情景，心肠更软了，亲呢地纠缠她，说道：“我真不愿离开你。我要去的地方找不到有你一半可爱的人。谁说我们成不了姑嫂啊？我知道我们准会成为姑嫂。我觉得我们生来就要结为亲戚。你的眼泪使我相信，你也有同感，亲爱的范妮。”
　　范妮警觉起来，只做了部分回答：“不过，你是从一伙朋友这里到另一伙朋友那里去。你是到一个非常要好的朋友那里去的。”
　　“是的，一点不错。弗雷泽太太多年来一直是我的亲密朋友。可我丝毫不想到她那里去。我心里只有我就要离开的朋友们，我极好的姐姐，你，还有伯特伦一家人。你们比世界上任何人都重感情。你们都使我觉得可以信任，可以推心置腹，和别人交往就没有这种感觉。我后悔没和弗雷泽太太约定过了复活节再去看她，复活节以后再去好多了——不过，现在是没法往后拖了。我在她那里住上一段时间以后，还得到她妹妹斯托诺韦夫人那里去，因为她可是两人中跟我更要好的朋友。不过，这三年来我可没怎么把她放在心上。”
　　这番话之后，两位姑娘不言不语地坐了许久，各自想着自己的心事。范妮在琢磨世上不同类型的友谊，玛丽盘算的问题却没有那么深奥。还是她又先说话了。
　　“我多么清楚地记得，我打算上楼来找你。我压根儿不知道东屋在什么地方，硬是摸索着找来啦！我走来的时候心里在想些什么，现在还记得清清楚楚。我往里一看，看见你在这里，坐在这张桌前做活。你表哥一开门看见我在这里，他好惊讶呀！当然，也记得你姨父是那天晚上回来的！我从没见过这样的事情。”
　　接着又出了一阵神。等出完了神，她又向伙伴发起了攻击。
　　“嗨，范妮，你完全心不在焉呀！我看是在想一个总在想你的人吧。噢！我多么想把你带到我们在伦敦的社交圈里待一段时间，好让你知道，你能征服亨利在他们看来是多么了不起呀！噢！会有多少人嫉妒你、嫉恨你啊！人家一听说你有这本事，该会多么惊讶，多么不可思议呀！至于说保密，亨利就像是古老传奇中的主人公，甘愿受到枷锁的束缚。你应该到伦敦去，好知道如何评价你的情场得意。你要是看到有多少人追求他，看到有多少人为了他而来讨好我就好了！我现在心里很清楚，就因为他和你的事情，弗雷泽太太绝不会那么欢迎我了。等她知道了这件事，她很可能希望我再回到北安普敦郡，因为弗雷泽先生有一个女儿，是第一个妻子留下的，她急于把她嫁出去，想让亨利娶了她。噢！她追他追得好紧哪！你天真无邪、安安静静地坐在这里，你不会知道你会引起多大的轰动，你不会知道会有多少人急着看你一眼，你不会知道我得没完没了地回答多少问题！可怜的玛格丽特·弗雷泽会不停地问我你的眼睛怎么样，牙齿怎么样，头梳的什么式样，鞋是哪家做的。为我可怜的朋友着想，我真希望玛格丽特快嫁出去，因力我觉得弗雷泽夫妇像大多数夫妇一样过得不大幸福。不过，当时对珍妮特来说，能嫁给弗雷泽先生还真不错呢。我们全都很高兴。她只能嫁给他，因为他有的是钱，而她却什么都没有。但他后来脾气变坏了，要求苛刻了，想让一个年轻女人，一个二十五岁的漂亮的年轻女人，像他一样情绪上不能有什么波动。我的朋友驾驭不住他，她好像不知道怎么办是好。丈夫动不动就发火，就是不往坏处说，至少是很没有教养。待在他们家里，我会想起曼斯菲尔德牧师府上的夫妇关系，不由得肃然起敬。连格兰特博士都能充分信任我姐姐，还能适当考虑她的意见，让人觉得他们彼此确有感情。但是在弗雷泽夫妇身上，我丝毫看不到这样的迹象。我要永远住在曼斯菲尔德，范妮。按照我的标准，我姐姐是个十全十美的妻子，托马斯·伯特伦爵士是个十全十美的丈夫。可怜的珍妮特不幸上当了，不过她倒没有什么不得当的地方。她并不是不假思索地贸然嫁给了他，她也并不是没有一点远虑。她花了三天时间考虑他的求婚。在这三天中，她征求了每一个与她有来往的、有见识的人的意见，特别是征求了我那亲爱的婶母的意见，因为我婶母见多识广，和她相识的年轻人全都理所当然地尊重她的意见。她明确地偏袒弗雷泽先生。从这件事看来，似乎没什么能保证婚后的幸福！关于我的朋友弗洛拉，我就没有那么多要说的了。为了这位极其讨厌的斯托诺韦勋爵的缘故，她抛弃了皇家禁卫骑兵队里的一位非常可爱的青年。斯托诺韦勋爵和拉什沃思先生的头脑差不多，范妮，但比拉什沃思先生难看得多，而且像个无赖。我当时就怀疑她这一步走得不对，因为他连上等人的派头都没有，现在我敢肯定，她那一步是走错了。顺便告诉你，弗洛拉·罗斯进入社交界的第一个冬天，她想亨利都想疯了。不过，要是让我把我知道的爱他的女人都说出来，我永远也说不完。是你，只有你，麻木不仁的范妮，才会对他无动于衷。不过，你真像你说的那祥无动于衷吗？不，不，我看你不是这样。”
　　这时，范妮真是窘得满脸通红，这对一个早有猜疑的人来说，势必会越发大起疑心。
　　“你真是好极了！我不想强逼你。一切听其自然。不过，亲爱的范妮，你应该承认，你并不像你表哥说的那样对这个问题毫无思想准备。这不可能，你肯定考虑过这个问题，肯定有所猜测。你肯定看得出他在竭尽全力讨好你。他在那次舞会上不是忠心耿耿地跟着你吗？还有，舞会的前一天还送给你那条项链呢！噢！你把它作为他的礼物接受下来了。你心里很明白。我记得清清楚楚。”
　　“你是不是说你哥哥事先知道项链的事情？噢！克劳福德小姐，这可不公平呀。”
　　“事先知道！完全是他安排的，是他自己的主意。说起来真不好意思，我事先想都没想到要这样做。不过，为了他也为了你，我很高兴地按他的主意办了。”
　　“我不想说，”范妮答道，“我当时一点也不担心会是这么回事，因为你的神情有点让我害怕——但并不是一开始——一开始我还一点没往这方面想呢！真的，我真没往这方面想。千真万确。我要是想到了这一点，说什么也不会接受那条项链的。至于你哥哥的行为，我当然意识到有些不正常”。我意识到这一点已经有一段时间了，也许有两三个星期。不过，我当时认为他并非有什么意思，只权当他就是这么个人，既不希望他会认真考虑我，也没想到他会认真考虑我。克劳福德小姐，去年夏天和秋天他和这个家里有的人之间发生的一些事情，我并非没有注意到。我虽然嘴里不说，眼睛却看得清楚。我看到克劳福德先生向女人献殷勤，其实一点诚意也没有。”
　　“啊！这我不否认。他有时候是个没治的调情鬼，毫不顾忌会不会撩乱姑娘们的芳心。我经常为此骂他，不过他也只有这一个弱点。而且有一点需要说明：感情上值得让人珍惜的姑娘并不多。再说，范妮，能捞到一个被这么多姑娘追求的男人，有本事为女人家出口气，这有多么光彩啊！唉，我敢说，拒绝接受这样的荣耀，这不符合女人的天性。”
　　范妮摇了摇头。“我不会看得起一个玩弄女人感情的人。这种人给女人带来的痛苦往往比旁观者想象的要多得多。”
　　“我不替他辩护，任凭你爱怎么发落就怎么发落他吧。等他把你娶到埃弗灵厄姆之后，你怎么训他我都不管。不过，有一点我要说明，他喜欢让姑娘们爱他，这个弱点对于妻子的幸福来说，远没有他自己爱上别人来得危险，而他从来没有爱上哪个姑娘。我真心诚意地相信，他真是喜欢你，以前从没这样喜欢过任何女人。他一心一意地爱你，将会永远地爱你。如果真有哪个男人永远爱着一个女人的话，我想亨利对你是会做到这一步的。”
　　范妮禁不住淡然一笑，但没有什么可说。
　　“我觉得，”玛丽随即又说，“亨利把你哥哥晋升的事办成之后，那个高兴劲儿从来没有过。”
　　她这话自然是想触及范妮的痛处。
　　“噢！是的。我们非常、非常地感激他啊！”
　　“我知道他一定费了很大的劲儿，因为我了解他要活动的那些人。海军将军怕麻烦，不屑于求人。再说有那么多年轻人都要求他帮忙，如果不是铁了心的话，光凭着友情和能力，很容易给撂在一边。威廉该有多高兴啊！我们能见到他就好了。”
　　范妮好可怜，她的心被抛人极度的痛苦之中。一想到克劳福德为威廉办的事，她拒绝他的决心总要受到巨大的干扰。她一直坐在那里沉思默想，玛丽起初洋洋得意地看着她，接着又揣摩起了别的什么事，最后突然把她唤醒了，说道：“我本想和你坐在这里谈上一天，可是我们又不能忘了楼下的太太们，因此，就再见吧，我亲爱的、可爱的、再好不过的范妮。虽然我们名义上要在早餐厅里分手，但我要在这里向你告别。我就向你告别了，希望能幸福地再见。我相信，等我们再见面的时候，情况将会有所改变，我们彼此之间能推心置腹，毫无保留。”
　　这话说完之后，就是一番极其亲热的拥抱，神情显得有些激动。
　　“我不久就能在伦敦见到你表哥。他说他要不了多久就会去那里。我敢说，托马斯爵士春天会去的。你大表哥、拉什沃思夫妇和朱莉娅，我相信会经常见面的，除了你之外，都能见到。范妮，我求你两件事：一是和我通信，你一定要给我写信；另一件是，你常去看看格兰特太太，算是为她弥补一下我走后的损失。”
　　这两个要求，至少是第一个，范妮但愿她不曾提出。但是她又无法拒绝通信，甚至还不能不欣然答应，答应之痛快都超出了她自己的意愿。克劳福德小姐表现得这么亲热，真让她无法抵御。她的天性就特别珍惜别人善待自己，加上一向很少受到这种善待，所以，克劳福德小姐的青睐使她受宠若惊。此外，她还要感激她，因为她们交谈的过程中，她没有像她料想的那样让她痛苦。
　　事情过去了。她算逃脱了，既没有受到责备，也没有泄露天机。她的秘密仍然只有她自己知道。既然如此，她觉得自己什么都可以答应。
　　晚上还有一场道别。亨利·克劳福德来坐了一会。她事先精神不是很好，她的心对他软了些——因为他看上去真是难受。他跟平时大为不同，几乎什么话都没说。他显然感到很沮丧，范妮必然也替他难过，不过却希望在他成为别的女人的丈夫之前，她永远不要再见到他。
　　临别的时候，他要握她的手，并且不许她拒绝。不过，他什么也没说，或者说，他说了她也没听见。他走出房间之后，他们友谊的象征已经结束了，她感到越发高兴。
　　第二天，克劳福德兄妹走了。　

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一二三四五六七~~~

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Chapter Thirty-seven

  Mr. Crawford gone, Sir Thomas's next object was that he should be missed; and he entertained great hope that his niece would find a blank in the loss of those attentions which 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 again into nothing, would awaken very wholesome regrets in her mind. He watched her with this idea; but he could hardly tell with what success. He hardly knew whether there were any difference in her spirits or not. She was always so gentle and retiring that her emotions were beyond his discrimination. He did not understand her: he felt that he did not; and therefore applied to Edmund to tell him how she stood affected on the present occasion, and whether she were more or less happy than she had been.

  Edmund did not discern any symptoms of regret, and thought his father a little unreasonable in supposing the first three 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 Fanny spoke so seldom of _her_, and had so little voluntarily to 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 she could have believed Mary's future fate as unconnected with Mansfield as she was determined the brother's should be, if she could have hoped her return thither to be as distant as she was much inclined to think his, she would have been light of heart indeed; but the more she recollected and observed, the more deeply was she convinced that everything was now in a fairer train for Miss Crawford's marrying Edmund than it had ever been before. On his side the inclination was stronger, on hers less equivocal. His objections, the scruples of his integrity, seemed all done away, nobody could tell how; and the doubts and hesitations of her ambition were equally 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 such love must unite them. He was to go to town as soon as some 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 must be as certain as his offer; and yet there were bad feelings still remaining which made the prospect of it most sorrowful to her, independently, she believed, independently of self.

  In their very last conversation, Miss Crawford, in spite of some amiable sensations, and much personal kindness, had still been Miss Crawford; still shewn a mind led astray and 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 feeling in common between them; and she may be forgiven by older sages for looking on the chance of Miss Crawford's future improvement as nearly desperate, for thinking that if Edmund's influence in this season of love had already done so little in clearing her judgment, and regulating her notions, his worth would be finally wasted on her even in years of matrimony.

  Experience might have hoped more for any young people so circumstanced, and impartiality would not have denied to Miss Crawford's nature that participation of the general nature of women which would lead her to adopt the opinions of the man she loved and respected as her own. But as such were 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 and his own observations, still feeling a right, by all his knowledge of human nature, to expect to see the effect of the loss of power and consequence on his niece's spirits, and the past attentions of the lover producing a craving for their return; and he was soon afterwards able to account for his not yet completely and indubitably seeing all this, by the prospect of another visitor, whose approach he could allow to be quite enough to support the spirits he was watching. William had obtained a ten days' leave of absence, to be given to Northamptonshire, and was coming, the happiest of lieutenants, because the latest made, to shew his happiness and describe his uniform.

  He came; and he would have been delighted to shew his uniform there too, had not cruel custom prohibited its appearance except on duty. So the uniform remained at Portsmouth, and Edmund conjectured that before Fanny had any chance of seeing it, all its own freshness and all the freshness of its wearer's feelings must be worn away. It would be sunk into 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 sees others made commanders before him? So reasoned Edmund, till his father made him the confidant of a scheme which placed Fanny's chance of seeing the second lieutenant of H.M.S. Thrush in all his glory in another light.

  This scheme was that she should accompany her brother back to Portsmouth, and spend a little time with her own family. It had occurred to Sir Thomas, in one of his dignified musings, as a right and desirable measure; but before he absolutely made up his mind, he consulted his son. Edmund considered it every way, and saw nothing but what was right. The thing was good in itself, and could not be done at a better time; and he had no doubt of it being highly agreeable to Fanny. This was enough to determine Sir Thomas; and a decisive "then so it shall be" closed that stage of the business; Sir Thomas retiring from it with some feelings of satisfaction, and views of good over and above what he had communicated to his son; for his prime motive in sending her away had very little to 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 certainly wished her to be heartily sick of home before her visit ended; and 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; and he trusted that she 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 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 land. Had 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 strongly. At 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 words. The 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 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 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 account. This 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 good. At a distance, unassailed by his looks or his kindness, and safe from the perpetual irritation of 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 become a slight evil at Portsmouth.

  The only drawback was the doubt of her aunt Bertram's being comfortable without her. She 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 Park. When 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 self-command as such. But Mrs. Norris 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 Portsmouth. Fanny 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 certainly shewn no remarkable fondness for her formerly; but this she could easily suppose to have been her own fault or her own fancy. She 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 deserve. Now, 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 other.

  William was almost as happy in the plan as his sister. It would be the greatest pleasure to him to have her there to the last moment before he sailed, and perhaps find her there still when he came in from his first cruise. And besides, he wanted her so very much to see the Thrush before she went out of harbour--the Thrush was certainly the finest sloop in the service--and there were several improvements in the dockyard, too, which he quite longed to shew her.

  He did not scruple to add that her being at home for a while would be a great advantage to everybody.

  "I do not know how it is," said he; "but we seem to want some of your nice ways and orderliness at my father's. The house is always in confusion. You will set things going in a better way, I am sure. You will tell my mother how it all ought to be, and you will be so useful to Susan, and you will 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 remained but a very few days more to be spent at Mansfield; and for part of one of those days the young travellers were in a good deal of alarm on the subject of their journey, for when the mode of it came to be talked of, and Mrs. Norris found that all her anxiety to save her brother-in-law's money was vain, and that in spite of her wishes and hints for a less expensive conveyance of Fanny, they were to travel post; when she saw Sir Thomas actually give William notes for the purpose, she was struck with the idea of there being room for a third in the carriage, and suddenly seized with a strong inclination to go with them, to go and see her poor dear sister Price. She proclaimed her thoughts. She must say that she had more than half a mind to go with the young people; it would be such an indulgence to her; she had not seen her poor dear sister Price for more than twenty years; and it would be a help to the young people in their journey to have her older head to manage for them; and she could not help thinking her poor dear sister Price would feel it very 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 would be destroyed at once. With woeful countenances they looked at each other. Their suspense lasted an hour or 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 spared from Mansfield Park at present; that she was a great deal too necessary to Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram for her to be able to answer it to herself to leave them even for a week, and therefore must certainly sacrifice every other pleasure to that of being useful to them.

  It had, in fact, occurred to her, that though taken to Portsmouth for nothing, it would be hardly possible for her to avoid paying her own expenses back again. So her poor dear sister Price was left to all the disappointment 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 make to Mansfield Park as well as his aunt. He had intended, about this time, to be going to London; but he could not leave his father and mother just when everybody else of most importance to their comfort was leaving them; and with an effort, felt but not boasted of, he delayed for a week or two longer a journey which he was looking forward to with the hope of its fixing his happiness for ever.

  He told Fanny of it. She knew so much already, that she must know everything. It made the substance of one other confidential discourse about Miss Crawford; and Fanny was the more affected from feeling it to be the last time in which Miss Crawford's name would ever be mentioned between them with any remains of liberty. Once afterwards she was alluded to by him. Lady Bertram had been telling her niece in the evening to write to her soon and 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 anything worth writing about, anything to say that I think you will like to hear, and that you will not hear so soon from any other quarter." Had she doubted his meaning while she listened, the glow in his face, when she looked up at him, would have been decisive.

  For this letter she must try to arm herself. 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. She clung to her aunt, because she would miss her; she kissed the hand of her uncle 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 it was not till it was over that she knew he was giving her the affectionate farewell of a brother.

  All this passed overnight, for the journey was to begin very early in the morning; and when the small, diminished party met at breakfast, William and Fanny were talked of as already advanced one stage.

　　克劳福德先生走了，托马斯爵士的下一个目标是让范妮思念他。虽然对于克劳福德先生的百般殷勤，外甥女当时觉得，或者认为是她的不幸，但是现在失去了这样的殷勤之后，做姨父的满怀希望地认为，外甥女会为此感到惆怅。她已经尝到了受人抬举的滋味，而且那种抬举又是以最令人惬意的方式表现出来的。因此，托马斯爵士还真是希望，她会由于不再有人抬举，重又落入无足轻重的境地，心里产生一种非常有益的懊悔之情。他抱着这个想法观察她——但却说不上有多大效果。他几乎看不出她的情绪是否有任何变化。她总是那样文雅怯懦，他无法辨别她的心情如何。他无法了解她，感到自己无法了解她。因此，他请求埃德蒙告诉他，这件事情对范妮的影响如何，她比原来快乐还是不快乐。
　　埃德蒙没有看出任何懊悔的迹象。他觉得父亲有点不大切合实际，居然指望在三四天里就能看出她的后悔来。
　　最让埃德蒙感到意外的是，她的朋友和女伴，克劳福德的妹妹，在这里时对她那么好，走后也看不出她有什么懊悔的。他觉得奇怪，范妮很少提到她，也很少主动说起这次别离引起的愁绪。
　　唉！现在造成范妮不幸的主要祸根，正是克劳福德的这位妹妹，她的这位朋友和女伴。要是她能认为玛丽未来的命运像她哥哥的一样跟曼斯菲尔德没有关系的话，要是她能希望她回到曼斯菲尔德跟她哥哥一样遥远的话，她心里真会感到轻松的。但是，她越回顾往事，越注意观察，就越认为事情正朝着克劳福德小姐嫁给埃德蒙的方向发展。他们两人，男方的愿望更强了，女方的态度更明朗了。他的顾虑，他因为为人正直而产生的顾忌，似乎早已荡然无存——谁也说不准是怎么回事；而她那由于野心而引起的疑虑和犹豫，也同样不复存在了——而且同样看不出是什么原因。这只能归因于感情越来越深。他的美好情感和她的不高尚的情感都向爱情屈服了，这样的爱情必然把他们结合在一起。桑顿莱西的事务一处理完——也许要不了两个星期，他就要到伦敦去。他谈到了要去伦敦，他喜欢讲这件事。一旦和玛丽再度重逢，接下来会发生什么事情，范妮可想而知了。他肯定会向她求婚，她也肯定会接受。然而，这里面还是有些不高尚的情感，使她为未来的前景伤透了心。不过，这伤心与她自己无关——她认为与己无关。
　　在她们最后一次谈话中，克劳福德小姐虽然产生过一些亲切的感情，有过一些亲热的举动，但她依然是克劳福德小姐，从她的言行中可以看出，她的思想依然处于迷茫困惑之中，而她自己却浑然不觉。她心里是阴暗的，却自以为光明。她可能爱埃德蒙，但是除了爱之外，她没有别的方面配得上他。范妮认为，他们之间再也没有第二个情愫相通之处。她认为克劳福德小姐将来也不可能改，认为埃德蒙在恋爱中尚且改变不了她的看法，制约不了她的思想，那在婚后的岁月里，他那么好一个人最终报废在她身上了。范妮相信，古时的圣贤会原谅她的这些想法的。
　　经验告诉我们，对于这种境况中的年轻人不能过于悲观，公正而论，克劳福德小姐虽说性情如此，还不能因此认为她就没有女人的那种普遍的天性，有了这样的天性，她也会接受她所喜爱、所敬重的男人的意见，将之视为自己的意见。不过，范妮有她自己的想法，这些想法给她带来了很大的痛苦，她一提到克劳福德小姐就伤心。
　　与此同时，托马斯爵士依然抱着希望，依然在观察，并根据自己对人类天性的理解，依然觉得他会看到由于不再有人迷恋，不再有人青睐，外甥女的心情会受到影响，追求者以前的百般殷勤，使她渴望再遇到这种殷勤。过了不久，他得以把没有完全地、清楚地观察出上述迹象的原因，归之于另一个客人要来。他认为这位客人的即将到来，足以抚慰外甥女的心情。威廉请了十天假到北安普敦郡来，好显示一下他的快乐，描述一下他的制服。他是天下最快乐的海军少尉，因为他是刚刚晋升的。
　　威廉来了。他本来也很想来这里显示一下他的制服，可惜制度严格，除非是值勤，否则不准穿军服。因此，军服给撂在朴次茅斯了。埃德蒙心想，等范妮有机会看到的时候，不管是制服的鲜艳感，还是穿制服人的新鲜感，都早已不复存在了。这套制服会成为不光彩的标记。一个人要是当了少尉，一两年还没升官，眼看着别人一个个提成了校官，在这种情况下，还有什么比少尉的制服更难看、更寒伧呢？埃德蒙是这样考虑的，后来他父亲向他提出了一个方案，让范妮通过另外一种安排，看看皇家海军“画眉”号军舰上的少尉身穿光彩夺目的军装。
　　根据这个方案，范妮要随哥哥回到朴次茅斯，跟父母弟妹共度一段时间。托马斯爵士是在一次郑重思考时想出了这个主意，觉得这是一个恰当而又理想的举措。不过，他在下定决心之前，先征求了儿子的意见。埃德蒙从各方面做了考虑，觉得这样做完全妥当。这件事本身就很得当，选择这个时机也再好不过，他料想范妮一定非常高兴。这足以使托马斯爵士下定了决心，随着一声果断的“那就这么办”，这件事就算暂时告一段落了。托马斯爵士有点洋洋得意地回房去了，心想这样做的好处还远不止是他对儿子说的，因为他要把范妮打发走的主要动机，并不是为了叫她去看父母，更不是为了让她快活快活。他无疑希望她乐意回去，但同样无疑的是，他希望还没等她探亲结束，她就会深深厌恶自己的家。让她脱离一段曼斯菲尔德庄园优越奢侈的生活，会使她头脑清醒一些，能比较正确地估价人家给她提供的那个更加长久、同样舒适的家庭的价值。
　　托马斯爵士认为外甥女现在肯定是头脑出了毛病，这便是他给她制定的治疗方案。在丰裕富贵人家住了八九年，使她失去了比较和鉴别好坏的能力。她父亲住的房子完全可能使她明白有钱是多么重要。他深信，他想出这个试验，会让范妮这辈子变得更聪明，更幸福。
　　如果范妮有狂喜之习惯的话，她一听明白姨父的打算，定会感到欣喜若狂。姨父建议她去看看她离别几乎半生的父母弟妹，一路上有威廉保护和陪伴，回到她幼年生长的环境中，住上一两个月，而且一直可以看到威廉，直到他出海为止。如果她有什么时候能纵情高兴的话，那就应该是这个时候，因为她是很高兴，不过她那是属于一种不声不响的、深沉的、心潮澎湃的高兴。她向来话不多，在感受最强烈的时候，总是默默不语。在这种时候，她只会道谢，表示接受。后来，对这突如其来的想象中的快乐习以为常之后，她才能把自己的感受对威廉和埃德蒙大体说一说。但是，还有一些微妙的感情无法用言语表达——童年的欢乐，被迫离家的痛苦，这种种回忆涌上了她的心头，好像回家一趟能医治好由于分离而引起的种种痛苦似的。回到这样一伙人当中，受到那么多人的爱，大家对她的爱超过了她以往受到的爱，可以无忧无虑、无拘无束地感受人间的爱，觉得自己和周围的人是平等的，不用担心谁会提起克劳福德兄妹俩，不用担心谁会为了他们而向她投来责备的目光！这是她怀着柔情憧憬着的前景，不过这种柔情只能说出一半。
　　还有埃德蒙——离开他两个月（也许她会被允许去三个月），一定会对她有好处。离得远一些，不再感受他的目光或友爱，不再因为了解他的心，又想避而不听他的心事，而觉得烦恼不断，她也许能使自己的心境变得平静一些，可以想到他在伦敦做种种安排，而并不感到自己可怜。她在曼斯菲尔德忍受不了的事，到了朴次茅斯就会变成小事一桩。
　　唯一的问题是，她走后不知是否会给伯特伦姨妈带来不便。她对别人都没有什么用处。但是对于伯特伦姨妈，她不在会造成一定的不便，这是她不忍心去想的。她不在的时候如何安排伯特伦姨妈，这是让托马斯爵士最感棘手的，然而也只有他可以做安排。
　　不过，他毕竟是一家之主。他要是真打定主意要做什么事，总是要坚持到底的。现在，他就这个问题和妻子谈了很久，向她讲解范妮有义务时而去看看自己的家人，终于说服妻子同意放她去。不过，伯特伦夫人与其说是心服，不如说是屈服，因为她觉得，只不过是托马斯爵士认为范妮应该去，所以她就必须去。等她回到寂静的梳妆室，在不受丈夫那似是而非的理由的影响的情况下，不带偏见地好好琢磨一下这个问题。她认为，范妮离开父母这么久了，实在没有必要去看他们，而她自己却那么需要她。至于范妮走后不会带来什么不便，诺里斯太太发表了一通议论，倒是想证明这一点，但伯特伦夫人坚决不同意这种说法。
　　托马斯爵士诉诸她的理智、良心和尊严。他说这叫自我牺牲，要求她行行好，自我克制一下。而诺里斯太太则要让她相信，范妮完全离得开（只要需要，她愿意拿出自己的全部时间来陪她），总而言之，范妮的确不是不可缺少的。
　　“也许是这样的，姐姐，”伯特伦夫人答道。“我想你说得很对，不过我肯定会很想她的。”
　　下一步是和朴次茅斯联系。范妮写信表示要回去看看，母亲的回信虽短，但却非常亲切，短短的几行表达了母亲在即将见到自己久别的孩子时那种自然的、慈母的喜悦，证明女儿的看法不错，与母亲在一起会无比快乐，并且使女儿相信，以前不怎么疼爱她的“妈妈”，现在一定会是一位热烈而亲切的朋友。至于过去的问题，她很容易想到那都怪她自己，或者是自己过于敏感。她也许是由于胆小无助，焦虑不安，而没去博得她的爱，要不就是她不懂道理，在那么多需要母爱的孩子中间，想比别人多得到一点爱。现在，她已经知道了怎样有益于人，怎样克制忍让，她母亲也不再受满屋的孩子没完没了的牵累，既有闲暇又有心情来寻求各种乐趣，在这种情况下，她们母女之间很快就会恢复应有的母女情意。
　　威廉对这个计划几乎像妹妹一样高兴。范妮要在朴次茅斯住到他出海前的最后时刻，也许他初次巡航回来仍能见到她，他将为此而感到无比的快乐！另外，他也很想让她在“画眉”号出港之前看看它（“画眉”号无疑是正在服役的最漂亮的轻巡洋舰）。海军船坞也做了几处修缮，他也很想领她看看。
　　他还毫不犹豫地加了一句：她回家住上一阵对大家都大有好处。
　　“我不知道怎么会这样想，”他说，”不过，家里似乎需要你的一些良好习惯，需要你的有条不紊。家里总是乱七八糟。我相信，你会把样样东西都整理得好一些。你可以告诉妈妈应该怎样做，你可以帮助苏珊，你可以教教贝齐，让弟弟们爱你、关心你。这一切该有多好，多令人高兴啊！”
　　等收到普莱斯太太的回信时，可以在曼斯菲尔德逗留的时间已经没有几天了。其中有一天，两位年轻的旅客为他们旅行的事大吃一惊。原来，在谈论到路上怎么走的时候，诺里斯太太发现自己想给妹夫省钱完全是白操心，尽管她希望并暗示让范妮乘坐便宜些的交通工具，但他们两人却要乘驿车去。她甚至看见托马斯爵士把乘驿车的钱交给了威廉，这时她才意识到车里可以坐下第三个人，便突然心血来潮要和他们一起去，好去看看她那可怜的亲爱的普莱斯妹妹。她表明了自己的想法。她要说她很想和两个年轻人一起去。这对她来说是件难得的开心事，她已经有二十多年没见过她那可怜的亲爱的普莱斯妹妹了。她年纪大有经验，年轻人在路上也好有个照应。有这么好的机会她再不去，她认为她那可怜的亲爱的普莱斯妹妹定会觉得她太不讲情意了。
　　威廉和范妮被她这个念头吓坏了。
　　他们这次愉快旅行的全部乐趣将会一下子破坏殆尽。他们满面愁容，你看看我，我看看你。他们提心吊胆地过了一两个小时。谁也没有表示欢迎，谁也没有表示劝阻，事情由诺里斯太太自己去决定。后来，她又想起曼斯菲尔德庄园目前还离不开她，托马斯爵士和伯特伦夫人都十分需要她，她连一个星期都走不开，因此只能牺牲其他乐趣，一心为他们帮忙。外甥和外甥女一听，真是喜不自胜。
　　其实，她突然想起，尽管到朴次茅斯去不用花钱，但回来的时候却免不了要自出路费。于是，只能任她那位可怜的亲爱的普莱斯妹妹为她错过这次机会而失望吧。说不定要见面还要再等二十年。
　　埃德蒙的计划受到了范妮这次外出去朴次茅斯的影响。他像他姨妈一样得为曼斯菲尔德庄园做点牺牲。他本来打算这个时候去伦敦，但是最能给父母带来安慰的人就要走了，他不能在这个时候也离开他们。他觉得要克制一下，但却没有声张，就把他盼望中的可望确定他终身幸福的伦敦之行，又推迟了一两个星期。
　　他把这件事告诉了范妮。既然那么多事情都让她知道了，索性把什么都告诉她吧。他又向她推心置腹地谈了一次克劳福德小姐的事。范妮心里越发不是滋味，觉得这是他们两人之间最后一次比较随意地提到克劳福德小姐的名字了。后来有一次，他转弯抹角地提到了她。晚上，伯特伦夫人嘱咐外甥女一去就给她来信，而且要常来信，她自己也答应常给外甥女写信。这时，埃德蒙看准一个时机，悄声补充了一句：“范妮，等我有什么事情值得告诉你，有什么事情我觉得你会想要知道，而从别人那里不会很快听到的时候，我会给你写信的。”假若她还听不出他的弦外之音，等她抬起眼来看他的时候，从他那容光焕发的脸上就能看得清清楚楚了。
　　她必须做好思想准备，以承受这样一封信的打击。埃德蒙给她来信，竟然会成为一件可怕的事！她开始感觉到，在这多变的人世间，时间的推移和环境的变迁在人们身上引起的思想感情的变化，她还得继续去感受。她还没有饱尝人心的变化无常。
　　可怜的范妮呀！尽管她心甘情愿、迫不及待地要走，但在曼斯菲尔德庄园的最后一个夜晚，她还是忧心忡忡。她心里充满了离恨别愁。她为大宅里的每一个房间落泪，尤其为住在大宅里的每一个亲爱的人落泪。她紧紧抱住了姨妈，因为她走后会给她带来不便；她泣不成声地吻了吻姨父的手，因为她惹他生过气；至于埃德蒙，最后轮到向他道别时，她既没说话，也没看他，也没想什么。最后，她只知道他以兄长的身份向她满怀深情地道别。
　　这些都是头天晚上的事，两人第二天一早就要起程。当这家子所剩不多的几个人聚到一起吃早饭的时候，他们议论说，威廉和范妮已经走了一站路了。　

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 39楼发表于: 2013-10-30 0

Chapter Thirty-eight

  The novelty of travelling, and the happiness of being with William, soon produced their natural effect on Fanny's spirits, when Mansfield Park was fairly left behind; and by the time their first stage was ended, and they were to quit Sir Thomas's carriage, she was able to take leave of the old coachman, and send back proper messages, with cheerful looks.

  Of pleasant talk between the brother and sister there was no end. Everything supplied an amusement to the high glee of William's mind, and he was full of frolic and joke in the intervals of their higher-toned subjects, all of which ended, if they did not begin, in praise of the Thrush, conjectures how she would be employed, schemes for an action with some superior force, which (supposing the first lieutenant out of the way, and William was not very merciful to the first lieutenant) was to give himself the next step as soon as possible, or speculations upon prize-money, which was to be generously distributed at home, with only the reservation of enough to make the little cottage comfortable, in which he and Fanny were to pass all their middle and later life together.

  Fanny's immediate concerns, as far as they involved Mr. Crawford, made no part of their conversation. William knew what had passed, and from his heart lamented that his sister's feelings should be so cold towards a man whom he must consider as the first of human characters; but he was of an age to be all for love, and therefore unable to blame; and knowing her wish on the subject, he would not distress her by the slightest allusion.

  She had reason to suppose herself not yet forgotten by Mr. Crawford. She had heard repeatedly from his sister within the three weeks which had passed since their leaving Mansfield, and in each letter there had been a few lines from himself, warm and determined like his speeches. It was a correspondence which Fanny found quite as unpleasant as she had feared. Miss Crawford's style of writing, lively and affectionate, was itself an evil, independent of what she was thus forced into reading from the brother's pen, for Edmund would never rest till she had read the chief of the letter to him; and then she had to listen to his admiration of her language, and the warmth of her attachments. There had, in fact, been so much of message, of allusion, of recollection, so much of Mansfield in every letter, that Fanny could not but suppose it meant for him to hear; and to find herself forced into a purpose of that kind, compelled into a correspondence which was bringing her the addresses of the man she did not love, and obliging her to administer to the adverse passion of the man she did, was cruelly mortifying. Here, too, her present removal promised advantage. When no longer under the same roof with Edmund, she trusted that Miss Crawford would have no motive for writing strong enough to overcome the trouble, and that at Portsmouth their correspondence would dwindle into nothing.

  With such thoughts as these, among ten hundred others, Fanny proceeded in her journey safely and cheerfully, and as expeditiously as could rationally be hoped in the dirty month of February. They entered Oxford, but she could take only a hasty glimpse of Edmund's college as they passed along, and made no stop anywhere till they reached Newbury, where a comfortable meal, uniting dinner and supper, wound up the enjoyments and fatigues of the day.

  The next morning saw them off again at an early hour; and with no events, and no delays, they regularly advanced, and were in the environs of Portsmouth while there was yet daylight for Fanny to look around her, and wonder at the new buildings. They passed the drawbridge, and entered the town; and the light was only beginning to fail as, guided by William's powerful voice, they were rattled into a narrow street, leading from the High Street, and drawn up before the door of a small house now inhabited by Mr. Price.

  Fanny was all agitation and flutter; all hope and apprehension. The moment they stopped, a trollopy-looking maidservant, seemingly in waiting for them at the door, stepped forward, and more intent on telling the news than giving them any help, immediately began with, "The Thrush is gone out of harbour, please sir, and one of the officers has been here to-- " She was interrupted by a fine tall boy of eleven years old, who, rushing out of the house, pushed the maid aside, and while William was opening the chaise-door himself, called out, "You are just in time. We have been looking for you this half-hour. The Thrush went out of harbour this morning. I saw her. It was a beautiful sight. And they think she will have her orders in a day or two. And Mr. Campbell was here at four o'clock to ask for you: he has got one of the Thrush's boats, and is going off to her at six, and hoped you would be here in time to go with him."

  A stare or two at Fanny, as William helped her out of the carriage, was all the voluntary notice which this brother bestowed; but he made no objection to her kissing him, though still entirely engaged in detailing farther particulars of the Thrush's going out of harbour, in which he had a strong right of interest, being to commence his career of seamanship in her at this very time.

  Another moment and Fanny was in the narrow entrance-passage of the house, and in her mother's arms, who met her there with looks of true kindness, and with features which Fanny loved the more, because they brought her aunt Bertram's before her, and there were her two sisters: Susan, a well-grown fine girl of fourteen, and Betsey, the youngest of the family, about five--both glad to see her in their way, though with no advantage of manner in receiving her. But manner Fanny did not want. Would they but love her, she should be satisfied.

  She was then taken into a parlour, so small that her first conviction was of its being only a passage-room to something better, and she stood for a moment expecting to be invited on; but when she saw there was no other door, and that there were signs of habitation before her, she called back her thoughts, reproved herself, and grieved lest they should have been suspected. Her mother, however, could not stay long enough to suspect anything. She was gone again to the street-door, to welcome William. "Oh! my dear William, how glad I am to see you. But have you heard about the Thrush? She is gone out of harbour already; three days before we had any thought of it; and I do not know what I am to do about Sam's things, they will never be ready in time; for she may have her orders to-morrow, perhaps. It takes me quite unawares. And now you must be off for Spithead too. Campbell has been here, quite in a worry about you; and now what shall we do? I thought to have had such a comfortable evening with you, and here everything comes upon me at once."

  Her son answered cheerfully, telling her that everything was always for the best; and making light of his own inconvenience in being obliged to hurry away so soon.

  "To be sure, I had much rather she had stayed in harbour, that I might have sat a few hours with you in comfort; but as there is a boat ashore, I had better go off at once, and there is no help for it. Whereabouts does the Thrush lay at Spithead? Near the Canopus? But no matter; here's Fanny in the parlour, and why should we stay in the passage? Come, mother, you have hardly looked at your own dear Fanny yet."

  In they both came, and Mrs. Price having kindly kissed her daughter again, and commented a little on her growth, began with very natural solicitude to feel for their fatigues and wants as travellers. "Poor dears! how tired you must both be! and now, what will you have? I began to think you would never come. Betsey and I have been watching for you this half-hour. And when did you get anything to eat? And what would you like to have now? I could not tell whether you would be for some meat, or only a dish of tea, after your journey, or else I would have got something ready. And now I am afraid Campbell will be here before there is time to dress a steak, and we have no butcher at hand. It is very inconvenient to have no butcher in the street. We were better off in our last house. Perhaps you would like some tea as soon as it can be got."

  They both declared they should prefer it to anything. "Then, Betsey, my dear, run into the kitchen and see if Rebecca has put the water on; and tell her to bring in the tea-things as soon as she can. I wish we could get the bell mended; but Betsey is a very handy little messenger."

  Betsey went with alacrity, proud to shew her abilities before her fine new sister.

  "Dear me!" continued the anxious mother, "what a sad fire we have got, and I dare say you are both starved with cold. Draw your chair nearer, my dear. I cannot think what Rebecca has been about. I am sure I told her to bring some coals half an hour ago. Susan, you should have taken care of the fire."

  "I was upstairs, mama, moving my things," said Susan, in a fearless, self-defending tone, which startled Fanny. "You know you had but just settled that my sister Fanny and I should have the other room; and I could not get Rebecca to give me any help."

  Farther discussion was prevented by various bustles: first, the driver came to be paid; then there was a squabble between Sam and Rebecca about the manner of carrying up his sister's trunk, which he would manage all his own way; and lastly, in walked Mr. Price himself, his own loud voice preceding him, as with something of the oath kind he kicked away his son's port-manteau and his daughter's bandbox in the passage, and called out for a candle; no candle was brought, however, and he walked into the room.

  Fanny with doubting feelings had risen to meet him, but sank down again on finding herself undistinguished in the dusk, and unthought of. With a friendly shake of his son's hand, and an eager voice, he instantly began-- "Ha! welcome back, my boy. Glad to see you. Have you heard the news? The Thrush went out of harbour this morning. Sharp is the word, you see! By G--, you are just in time! The doctor has been here inquiring for you: he has got one of the boats, and is to be off for Spithead by six, so you had better go with him. I have been to Turner's about your mess; it is all in a way to be done. I should not wonder if you had your orders to-morrow: but you cannot sail with this wind, if you are to cruise to the westward; and Captain Walsh thinks you will certainly have a cruise to the westward, with the Elephant. By G--, I wish you may! But old Scholey was saying, just now, that he thought you would be sent first to the Texel. Well, well, we are ready, whatever happens. But by G--, you lost a fine sight by not being here in the morning to see the Thrush go out of harbour! I would not have been out of the way for a thousand pounds. Old Scholey ran in at breakfast-time, to say she had slipped her moorings and was coming out, I jumped up, and made but two steps to the platform. If ever there was a perfect beauty afloat, she is one; and there she lays at Spithead, and anybody in England would take her for an eight-and-twenty. I was upon the platform two hours this afternoon looking at her. She lays close to the Endymion, between her and the Cleopatra, just to the eastward of the sheer hulk."

  "Ha!" cried William, "_that's_ just where I should have put her myself. It's the best berth at Spithead. But here is my sister, sir; here is Fanny," turning and leading her forward; "it is so dark you do not see her."

  With an acknowledgment that he had quite forgot her, Mr. Price now received his daughter; and having given her a cordial hug, and observed that she was grown into a woman, and he supposed would be wanting a husband soon, seemed very much inclined to forget her again. Fanny shrunk back to her seat, with feelings sadly pained by his language and his smell of spirits; and he talked on only to his son, and only of the Thrush, though William, warmly interested as he was in that subject, more than once tried to make his father think of Fanny, and her long absence and long journey.

  After sitting some time longer, a candle was obtained; but as there was still no appearance of tea, nor, from Betsey's reports from the kitchen, much hope of any under a considerable period, William determined to go and change his dress, and make the necessary preparations for his removal on board directly, that he might have his tea in comfort afterwards.

  As he left the room, two rosy-faced boys, ragged and dirty, about eight and nine years old, rushed into it just released from school, and coming eagerly to see their sister, and tell that the Thrush was gone out of harbour; Tom and Charles. Charles had been born since Fanny's going away, but Tom she had often helped to nurse, and now felt a particular pleasure in seeing again. Both were kissed very tenderly, but Tom she wanted to keep by her, to try to trace the features of the baby she had loved, and talked to, of his infant preference of herself. Tom, however, had no mind for such treatment: he came home not to stand and be talked to, but to run about and make a noise; and both boys had soon burst from her, and slammed the parlour-door till her temples ached.

  She had now seen all that were at home; there remained only two brothers between herself and Susan, one of whom was a clerk in a public office in London, and the other midshipman on board an Indiaman. But though she had _seen_ all the members of the family, she had not yet _heard_ all the noise they could make. Another quarter of an hour brought her a great deal more. William was soon calling out from the landing-place of the second story for his mother and for Rebecca. He was in distress for something that he had left there, and did not find again. A key was mislaid, Betsey accused of having got at his new hat, and some slight, but essential alteration of his uniform waistcoat, which he had been promised to have done for him, entirely neglected.

  Mrs. Price, Rebecca, and Betsey all went up to defend themselves, all talking together, but Rebecca loudest, and the job was to be done as well as it could in a great hurry; William trying in vain to send Betsey down again, or keep her from being troublesome where she was; the whole of which, as almost every door in the house was open, could be plainly distinguished in the parlour, except when drowned at intervals by the superior noise of Sam, Tom, and Charles chasing each other up and down stairs, and tumbling about and hallooing.

  Fanny was almost stunned. The smallness of the house and thinness of the walls brought everything so close to her, that, added to the fatigue of her journey, and all her recent agitation, she hardly knew how to bear it. _Within_ the room all was tranquil enough, for Susan having disappeared with the others, there were soon only her father and herself remaining; and he, taking out a newspaper, the accustomary loan of a neighbour, applied himself to studying it, without seeming to recollect her existence. The solitary candle was held between himself and the paper, without any reference to her possible convenience; but she had nothing to do, and was glad to have the light screened from her aching head, as she sat in bewildered, broken, sorrowful contemplation.

  She was at home. But, alas! it was not such a home, she had not such a welcome, as--she checked herself; she was unreasonable. What right had she to be of importance to her family? She could have none, so long lost sight of! William's concerns must be dearest, they always had been, and he had every right. Yet to have so little said or asked about herself, to have scarcely an inquiry made after Mansfield! It did pain her to have Mansfield forgotten; the friends who had done so much--the dear, dear friends! But here, one subject swallowed up all the rest. Perhaps it must be so. The destination of the Thrush must be now preeminently interesting. A day or two might shew the difference. _She_ only was to blame. Yet she thought it would not have been so at Mansfield. No, in her uncle's house there would have been a consideration of times and seasons, a regulation of subject, a propriety, an attention towards everybody which there was not here.

  The only interruption which thoughts like these received for nearly half an hour was from a sudden burst of her father's, not at all calculated to compose them. At a more than ordinary pitch of thumping and hallooing in the passage, he exclaimed, "Devil take those young dogs! How they are singing out! Ay, Sam's voice louder than all the rest! That boy is fit for a boatswain. Holla, you there! Sam, stop your confounded pipe, or I shall be after you."

  This threat was so palpably disregarded, that though within five minutes afterwards the three boys all burst into the room together and sat down, Fanny could not consider it as a proof of anything more than their being for the time thoroughly fagged, which their hot faces and panting breaths seemed to prove, especially as they were still kicking each other's shins, and hallooing out at sudden starts immediately under their father's eye.

  The next opening of the door brought something more welcome: it was for the tea-things, which she had begun almost to despair of seeing that evening. Susan and an attendant girl, whose inferior appearance informed Fanny, to her great surprise, that she had previously seen the upper servant, brought in everything necessary for the meal; Susan looking, as she put the kettle on the fire and glanced at her sister, as if divided between the agreeable triumph of shewing her activity and usefulness, and the dread of being thought to demean herself by such an office. "She had been into the kitchen," she said, "to hurry Sally and help make the toast, and spread the bread and butter, or she did not know when they should have got tea, and she was sure her sister must want something after her journey."

  Fanny was very thankful. She could not but own that she should be very glad of a little tea, and Susan immediately set about making it, as if pleased to have the employment all to herself; and with only a little unnecessary bustle, and some few injudicious attempts at keeping her brothers in better order than she could, acquitted herself very well. Fanny's spirit was as much refreshed as her body; her head and heart were soon the better for such well-timed kindness. Susan had an open, sensible countenance; she was like William, and Fanny hoped to find her like him in disposition and goodwill towards herself.

  In this more placid state of things William reentered, followed not far behind by his mother and Betsey. He, complete in his lieutenant's uniform, looking and moving all the taller, firmer, and more graceful for it, and with the happiest smile over his face, walked up directly to Fanny, who, rising from her seat, looked at him for a moment in speechless admiration, and then threw her arms round his neck to sob out her various emotions of pain and pleasure.

  Anxious not to appear unhappy, she soon recovered herself; and wiping away her tears, was able to notice and admire all the striking parts of his dress; listening with reviving spirits to his cheerful hopes of being on shore some part of every day before they sailed, and even of getting her to Spithead to see the sloop.

  The next bustle brought in Mr. Campbell, the surgeon of the Thrush, a very well-behaved young man, who came to call for his friend, and for whom there was with some contrivance found a chair, and with some hasty washing of the young tea-maker's, a cup and saucer; and after another quarter of an hour of earnest talk between the gentlemen, noise rising upon noise, and bustle upon bustle, men and boys at last all in motion together, the moment came for setting off; everything was ready, William took leave, and all of them were gone; for the three boys, in spite of their mother's entreaty, determined to see their brother and Mr. Campbell to the sally-port; and Mr. Price walked off at the same time to carry back his neighbour's newspaper.

  Something like tranquillity might now be hoped for; and accordingly, when Rebecca had been prevailed on to carry away the tea-things, and Mrs. Price had walked about the room some time looking for a shirt-sleeve, which Betsey at last hunted out from a drawer in the kitchen, the small party of females were pretty well composed, and the mother having lamented again over the impossibility of getting Sam ready in time, was at leisure to think of her eldest daughter and the friends she had come from.

  A few inquiries began: but one of the earliest--"How did sister Bertram manage about her servants? "Was she as much plagued as herself to get tolerable servants?"-- soon led her mind away from Northamptonshire, and fixed it on her own domestic grievances, and the shocking character of all the Portsmouth servants, of whom she believed her own two were the very worst, engrossed her completely. The Bertrams were all forgotten in detailing the faults of Rebecca, against whom Susan had also much to depose, and little Betsey a great deal more, and who did seem so thoroughly without a single recommendation, that Fanny could not help modestly presuming that her mother meant to part with her when her year was up.

  "Her year!" cried Mrs. Price; "I am sure I hope I shall be rid of her before she has staid a year, for that will not be up till November. Servants are come to such a pass, my dear, in Portsmouth, that it is quite a miracle if one keeps them more than half a year. I have no hope of ever being settled; and if I was to part with Rebecca, I should only get something worse. And yet I do not think I am a very difficult mistress to please; and I am sure the place is easy enough, for there is always a girl under her, and I often do half the work myself."

  Fanny was silent; but not from being convinced that there might not be a remedy found for some of these evils. As she now sat looking at Betsey, she could not but think particularly of another sister, a very pretty little girl, whom she had left there not much younger when she went into Northamptonshire, who had died a few years afterwards. There had been something remarkably amiable about her. Fanny in those early days had preferred her to Susan; and when the news of her death had at last reached Mansfield, had for a short time been quite afflicted. The sight of Betsey brought the image of little Mary back again, but she would not have pained her mother by alluding to her for the world. While considering her with these ideas, Betsey, at a small distance, was holding out something to catch her eyes, meaning to screen it at the same time from Susan's.

  "What have you got there, my love?" said Fanny; "come and shew it to me."

  It was a silver knife. Up jumped Susan, claiming it as her own, and trying to get it away; but the child ran to her mother's protection, and Susan could only reproach, which she did very warmly, and evidently hoping to interest Fanny on her side. "It was very hard that she was not to have her _own_ knife; it was her own knife; little sister Mary had left it to her upon her deathbed, and she ought to have had it to keep herself long ago. But mama kept it from her, and was always letting Betsey get hold of it; and the end of it would be that Betsey would spoil it, and get it for her own, though mama had _promised_ her that Betsey should not have it in her own hands."

  Fanny was quite shocked. Every feeling of duty, honour, and tenderness was wounded by her sister's speech and her mother's reply.

  "Now, Susan," cried Mrs. Price, in a complaining voice, "now, how can you be so cross? You are always quarrelling about that knife. I wish you would not be so quarrelsome. Poor little Betsey; how cross Susan is to you! But you should not have taken it out, my dear, when I sent you to the drawer. You know I told you not to touch it, because Susan is so cross about it. I must hide it another time, Betsey. Poor Mary little thought it would be such a bone of contention when she gave it me to keep, only two hours before she died. Poor little soul! she could but just speak to be heard, and she said so prettily, "Let sister Susan have my knife, mama, when I am dead and buried." Poor little dear! she was so fond of it, Fanny, that she would have it lay by her in bed, all through her illness. It was the gift of her good godmother, old Mrs. Admiral Maxwell, only six weeks before she was taken for death. Poor little sweet creature! Well, she was taken away from evil to come. My own Betsey" (fondling her), "_you_ have not the luck of such a good godmother. Aunt Norris lives too far off to think of such little people as you."

  Fanny had indeed nothing to convey from aunt Norris, but a message to say she hoped that her god-daughter was a good girl, and learnt her book. There had been at one moment a slight murmur in the drawing-room at Mansfield Park about sending her a prayer-book; but no second sound had been heard of such a purpose. Mrs. Norris, however, had gone home and taken down two old prayer-books of her husband with that idea; but, upon examination, the ardour of generosity went off. One was found to have too small a print for a child's eyes, and the other to be too cumbersome for her to carry about.

  Fanny, fatigued and fatigued again, was thankful to accept the first invitation of going to bed; and before Betsey had finished her cry at being allowed to sit up only one hour extraordinary in honour of sister, she was off, leaving all below in confusion and noise again; the boys begging for toasted cheese, her father calling out for his rum and water, and Rebecca never where she ought to be.

  There was nothing to raise her spirits in the confined and scantily furnished chamber that she was to share with Susan. The smallness of the rooms above and below, indeed, and the narrowness of the passage and staircase, struck her beyond her imagination. She soon learned to think with respect of her own little attic at Mansfield Park, in that house reckoned too small for anybody's comfort.

　　离开曼斯菲尔德庄园越来越远了，旅行的新奇，和威廉在一起的快乐，自然很快激起了范妮的兴致。当走完了第一站，跳下托马斯爵士的马车，向老车夫告别并托他回去代为问好的时候，她已经喜笑颜开了。
　　兄妹俩一路上谈笑风生。威廉兴高采烈，样样事情都让他开心。他们谈上一阵严肃的话题，他就说上一阵笑话。而他们所谈的严肃话题，不是以夸“画眉”号开始，就是以夸“画眉”号结束。他时而猜测“画眉”号将承担什么任务，时而计划怎样好好地大干一番，以便中尉出了什么事情的时候（威廉对中尉并不是很仁慈），他能尽快再次晋升，时而又琢磨在作战中立功受奖，所得的奖金将慷慨地分赠给父母弟妹们，只留一部分把那座小房子布置得舒舒服服的，他和范妮好在那里度过他们的中年和晚年。
　　与范妮密切相关的事情，凡是涉及到克劳福德先生的，他们在谈话中只字未提。威廉知道发生了什么事情，妹妹对一个他视为世界上最好的人这么冷漠，他从心里感到遗憾。但是，他现在正处于重视感情的年纪，因而不会责备妹妹。他知道妹妹在这个问题上的心思，便丝毫不提此事，免得惹她烦恼。
　　范妮有理由料想克劳福德先生没有忘记她。克劳福德兄妹俩离开曼斯菲尔德后的三个星期里，她不断收到他妹妹的来信，每封信里他都要附上几行，言词热烈，态度坚定，像他过去口头讲的一样。与克劳福德小姐通信，正像她原来担心的那样，给她带来极大的不快。除了不得不看克劳福德先生的附言之外，克劳福德小姐那活泼、热情的行文风格也给她带来痛苦，因为埃德蒙每次都坚持要听她念完信的主要内容，然后当着她的面赞叹克劳福德小姐语言优美，感情真挚。其实，每封信里都有许多消息、暗示和回忆，都大谈特谈曼斯菲尔德，范妮只能觉得这都是有意写给埃德蒙听的。她发觉自己被迫为这样的目的服务，不得不进行一场通信，让她不爱的男人没完没了地纠缠她，逼着她去忍受自己所爱的男人热恋别人，这是对她残酷的侮辱。就从这一点上看，她现在离开还是有好处的。一旦她不再和埃德蒙住在一起的时候，她相信克劳福德小姐就不会有那么大的动力不辞辛苦地给她写信。等她到了朴次茅斯，她们的通信会越来越少，直至停止。
　　范妮就这样思绪纷纭，平安而愉快地乘车行驶着，鉴于2月的道路比较泥泞，马车走得还算相当迅速。马车驶进了牛津，但是她对埃德蒙上过的学院，只在路过的时候匆匆瞥了一眼。他们一路往前赶，到了纽伯里才停下来，将正餐和晚饭并在一起，舒舒服服地吃了一顿，结束了一天愉快和疲劳的旅程。
　　第二天早晨他们又早早地动身了。一路无事，顺利前进，到达朴次茅斯近郊的时候，天还亮着，范妮环顾四周，赞叹那一幢幢的新建筑。他们过了吊桥，进入市区。暮色刚开始降临，在威廉的大声吆喝下，马车隆隆地从大街驶入一条狭窄的街道，在一座小屋的门前停下了。这就是普莱斯先生的住处。
　　范妮激动不已，心在突突直跳——她满怀希望，又满腹疑虑。马车一停下来，一个模样邋遢的女仆走上前来。她好像是等在门口迎候的，而且与其说是来帮忙的，不如说是来报信的，因而立即说道：“‘画眉’号已经出港了，先生，有一个军官来这儿——”她的话被一个漂亮的个子高高的十一岁男孩打断了，只见他从房子里跑出来，把女仆推开，就在威廉打开车门的时候，他嚷嚷道：“你们到得正是时候。我们已经等了你们半个小时了。今天上午‘画眉’号出港了。我看见了，好美呀。他们料想一两天内就会接到命令。坎贝尔先生是四点钟到的，来找你。他要了一艘‘画眉’号上的小艇，六点钟回舰上去，希望你能及时回来跟他一块走。”
　　威廉扶范妮下车的时候，这位小弟弟只看了她一两眼，算是自愿给她的关注。范妮吻他的时候，他并没表示反对，只是还在一心一意地详细述说“画眉”号出港的情景。他对“画眉”号感兴趣是理所当然的，因为他这就要到这艘舰上开始他的海员生涯。
　　又过了一会，范妮已经进入这座房子的狭窄的门廊里，投入了妈妈的怀抱。妈妈以真诚的母爱迎接她，妈妈的容貌让她倍加喜爱，因为看上去使她觉得伯特伦姨妈来到了面前。两个妹妹也来了，苏珊十四岁，已长成一个漂亮的大姑娘，贝齐是最小的孩子，大约五岁——两人都很高兴见到她，只不过还不大懂得迎接客人的礼仪。但是，范妮并不计较礼仪。只要她们爱她，她就心满意足了。
　　接着，她被引进了一间起居室。这间屋子非常小，她起初还以为只是个小过厅，因此便站了一会，等着把她往好一点的房间里领。可是，当她发现这间屋子没有别的门，而且有住人的迹象，她便打消了自己的想法，责怪起自己来，唯恐他们看出她的心迹。不过，她妈妈没有久留，什么也没有察觉。她又跑到街门口去迎接威廉了。“噢！我亲爱的威廉，见到你真高兴。你听说‘画眉’号的事了吗？它已经出港了，比我们料想的早了三天。我不知道萨姆要带的东西该怎么办，怎么也来不及准备了。说不定明天就会奉命出海。我给弄得措手不及。你还得马上去斯皮特黑德呢。坎贝尔来过了，好为你着急。现在我们该怎么办呢？我原想和你快快活活地聚一个晚上，可现在一下子什么事都叫我遇上了。
　　儿子兴高采烈地做了回答，跟她说一切总会有个圆满的结果，至于不得不走得这么急，这点不便没有什么大不了的。
　　“我当然希望它没有离港，那样我就可以和你们欢聚几个小时。不过，既然有一只小艇靠岸，我还是马上走的好，这也是没有办法的事儿。‘画眉’号停在斯皮特黑德什么地方！靠近‘老人星’号吗？不过，没关系——范妮在起居室呢，我们为什么还待在走廊里？来，妈妈，你还没有好好看看你亲爱的范妮呢。”
　　两人都进来了，普莱斯太太又一次慈爱地吻了吻女儿，说了说她个子长高了，随即便自然而然地关心起他们旅途的劳顿和饥饿。
　　“可怜的好孩子！你们两个一定累坏了！现在你们想吃什么吧？刚才我都怕你们来不了啦。贝齐和我都等了你们半个小时了。你们什么时候吃的饭？现在想吃什么？我拿不准你们旅途过后是想吃些肉还是想喝点茶，要不然早就给你们准备好了。我还担心坎贝尔就要到了，想给你们做牛排又来不及，再说这附近又没有卖肉的。街上没有卖肉的可真不方便；我们以前住的那栋房子就方便多了。也许等茶一好你们就想喝点茶吧？”
　　他们两人表示喝茶比什么都好。“那好，贝齐，亲爱的，快到厨房去，看看丽贝卡有没有把水烧上，叫她尽快把茶具拿来。可惜我们的铃还没修好——不过让贝齐传个话还是很方便的。”
　　贝齐欢快地走了，得意地想在这位新来的漂亮的姐姐面前显显本事。
　　“哎呀！”焦灼不安的妈妈接着说，“这炉火一点也不旺，你们俩一定给冻坏了。把椅子挪近一点，亲爱的。丽贝卡这半天不知道干什么去了。半个钟头前我就叫她弄点煤来。苏珊，你该把炉子照料好呀。”
　　“妈妈，我刚才在楼上搬东西，”苏珊以毫不惧怕、替自己辩护的口气说，让范妮吃了一惊。“你刚才决定的，让范妮姐和我住到另一间屋里，丽贝卡又一点忙也不肯帮。”
　　由于一片忙乱，她们俩没有争下去。先是赶车的来领钱，接着是萨姆与丽贝卡为往楼上搬姐姐的箱子争执起来，萨姆非要按他的方式搬，最后是普莱斯先生进来了，他人没到声音先到，而且嗓门很高，有点骂骂咧咧地踢着放在走廊里的儿子的旅行包和女儿的纸箱子，叫嚷着要蜡烛。不过，并没有拿来蜡烛，他还是走进了屋里。
　　范妮怀着犹疑不定的心情站起来去迎接父亲，但觉得在昏暗中父亲并未注意到自己，也没想到自己，便又坐了下来。普莱斯先生亲切地握了握儿子的手，口气热烈地急忙说道：“哈！欢迎你回来了，孩子。见到你很高兴。你听到了消息没有？‘画眉’号今天上午出港了。你看有多紧迫。他妈的，你回来得正是时候。你们的那位军医来找你。他要来了一艘小艇，六点钟离岸去斯皮特黑德，你最好和他一块儿走。我到特纳的铺子里去催你的装备，很快就可以做好。说不定你们明天就会接到命令，木过你们要是往西巡航，遇到这样的风还没法启航。沃尔什舰长认为，你们肯定要和‘大象’号一起去西面巡航。他妈的，我还就希望是这样的。可是肖利老汉刚才说，他认为你们会先被派到‘特克赛尔’号上。反正，不管怎么样，我们已经准备好了。不过，他妈的，你上午不在，没能看上‘画眉’号出港时那个气派劲儿。给我一千英镑我也不愿意失去这个机会。吃早饭的时候，肖利老汉跑进来说，‘画眉’号已经起锚了，就要出港了。我忽地跳起来，两步就跑到平台甲板上。如果说真有哪只船十全十美的话，那就是它了。它就停在斯皮特黑德，不管是哪个英国人，一看就知道，它每小时能航行二十八海里。今天下午我在平台甲板上看了它两个小时。它紧靠‘恩底弥翁’号停着，在‘恩底弥翁’号和‘克娄巴特拉’号之间，就在那大船坞的正东面。”
　　“哈！”威廉嚷道，“要是我，也会把它停在那里的。那是斯皮特黑德最好的锚位。不过，爸爸，我妹妹在这儿，范妮在这儿。”说着转过身，将范妮往前拉了拉。“光线太暗了，你没看见她。”
　　普莱斯先生说他都忘了范妮，然后对她表示欢迎。他热情地拥抱了她，说她已经长成大人了，看来很快就要出嫁了，接着似乎又把她忘掉了。
　　范妮退回到座位上，为父亲的粗鲁语言和满嘴酒味感到痛心。父亲只和儿子说话，只谈“画眉”号。威廉虽然对这个话题很感兴趣，但不止一次地想使父亲想到范妮，想到她多年离家，想到她旅途劳顿。
　　又坐了一会，才弄来了一支蜡烛。但是茶仍然没有端来，而且据贝齐从厨房得来的情况来看，一时半刻还烧不好，于是威廉决定去更换服装，做好说走就走的准备，然后再从从容容地喝茶。
　　他走出屋之后，两个脸蛋红润、衣着褴褛、身上肮脏的八九岁男孩跑了进来。他们两个刚刚放学，急匆匆地跑来看姐姐，报告“画眉”号出港的消息。两人一个叫汤姆，一个叫查东斯，查尔斯是范妮走后才生的，但她过去常帮妈妈照顾汤姆，因此这次再见面感到特别高兴。她非常亲切地吻了两个弟弟，不过总想把汤姆拉到自己身边，试图从他的容貌上追忆自己喜爱过的那个婴儿，跟他说他小时候多么喜欢她自己。然而，汤姆并不想让姐姐这样待他，他回家来不是为了站着不动，听别人对自己说话，而是要到处乱跑，吵吵闹闹。两个孩子很快挣脱了她，出门时砰的一声，震得她额头发痛。
　　现在，在家的人她都见到了，只剩下她和苏珊之间的两个弟弟，一个在伦敦的某个政府机关里当办事员，另一个在一艘来往于英国和印度之间的大商船上做见习船员。不过，她虽说见到了家里所有的人，但是还没有听到他们能喧闹到何种地步。又过了一刻钟，家里越发热闹起来了。威廉在二楼楼梯口大声呼喊他妈妈和丽贝卡。原来，他放在那里的什么东西找不到了，便着急起来。一把钥匙找不到了，贝齐动了他的新帽子，他的制服背心不合身，答应过要给他改的，完全给忘掉了。
　　普莱斯太太、丽贝卡和贝齐都跑到楼上为自己辩护，几个人一齐唧唧喳喳，就数丽贝卡叫得最响，都说这活要赶紧做出来，还要尽量做好。威廉想把贝齐赶到楼下，让她不要妨碍别人，但是徒劳无益。由于房里的每道门都敞开着，楼上的喧闹声在起居室里听得清清楚楚，只是不时地要被萨姆、汤姆和查尔斯的吵闹声盖过，他们楼上楼下地追逐着，跌跌撞撞，大喊大叫。
　　范妮给吵得头昏脑涨。由于房子小、墙壁薄，这一切都好像发生在身边，再加上旅途的劳顿，以及近来的种种烦恼，她简直不知道如何承受这一切。屋内倒是一片寂静，因为苏珊很快也跟他们去了，只剩下了父亲和她，父亲掏出了一张报纸——这报纸经常是从邻居家借来的，看了起来，似乎忘记了她还在屋里。他把那唯一的一支蜡烛擎在他和报纸之间，毫不顾及她是否需要光亮。不过，她也没有什么事要做，倒乐意他把烛光遮住，照不着她那疼痛的头。她茫然地坐在那里，陷入了断断续续的、黯然神伤的沉思之中。
　　她回到家了。可是，唉！这样一个家，她受到这样的接待，真让她——她不让自己再想下去。她这样想不合情理。她有什么权利要家里人对她另眼相看？她这么长久不见踪影，根本没有这个权利！家里人最关心的应该是威廉——一向都是如此——他完全有这个权利。然而，对她却没有什么好谈的，丝毫没人过问——也没有人问及曼斯菲尔德！他们忘记了曼斯菲尔德，忘记了给他们那么多帮助的朋友们——那些极其亲爱的朋友们，真让她痛心啊！但是现在，有一个话题盖过了其他所有话题。也许应该如此。“画眉”号的动向现在所引起的关注势必压倒一切。一两天后情况就会有所不同。事情只能怪她。然而她又觉得，若在曼斯菲尔德，情况就不会这样。不会的，在她姨父家里，就会审时度势，凡事都有定规，讲究分寸，关心每一个人，可这里却不是这样。
　　她就这样左思右想了将近半个小时之久，才让父亲突然给打断了，不过父亲倒不是为了安慰她。走廊里的脚步声和喊叫声实在太吵了，他便大声嚷道：“你们这些该死的小狗杂种！你们要闹翻天啊！嗨，萨姆的声音比谁的都大！这小子适合当水手长。喂——你听着——萨姆——别扯着你的尖嗓子乱叫了，不然看我不揍你。”
　　显然，这番威胁被置若罔闻。虽然五分钟内三个孩子都跑进房里坐了下来，但是范妮认为这并不能说明任何问题，只不过是因为他们一时累了，这从他们个个满头大汗、气喘吁吁就能看得出来——而且他们还在父亲的眼皮底下，你踢我的腿，我踩你的脚，并且又马上突然吆喝起来。
　　门又一次打开的时候，送来了较为受人欢迎的东西：茶具。她几乎开始绝望了，觉得那天晚上不会送茶具来了。苏珊和一个侍女送来了吃茶点需要的东西。范妮从这个侍女的外表可以看出，她先前见到的那位女仆原来是个管家。苏珊把茶壶放在炉火上，看了姐姐一眼，那神情似乎有两重意思：一是因为显示了自己的勤快能干而洋洋得意；二是担心干了这样的活在姐姐眼里降低了自己的身份。“我到厨房去催萨莉，”她说，“帮她烤面包片，涂黄油——不然的话，我真不知道什么时候才能吃上茶点——我敢断定，姐姐经过一路的奔波一定想吃点东西。”
　　范妮非常感激。她不得不承认自己很想喝点茶，苏珊立即动手沏茶，似乎很乐意独自来做这件事。她有点故作忙碌，不分青红皂白地说上弟弟们几句，尽量帮助维持秩序，让人觉得她表现出色。范妮从身体到精神都得到了恢复。由于受到这般及时的关照，她的头不那么痛了，心里也好受些了。苏珊面容坦率，通情达理。她长得像威廉。范妮希望她性情上也像威廉，并且像威廉一样对她好。
　　在这比较平静的气氛中，威廉又进来了，后面跟着妈妈和贝齐。他整整齐齐地穿上了他的少尉军服，看上去、走起路来都显得更魁梧，更笔挺，更风度翩翩。他满面春风地径直走向范妮。范妮站了起来，怀着赞赏的目光，默默地看了看他，然后张开双臂搂住他的脖子，悲喜交集地哭了起来。
　　她不愿意让人觉得自己有什么不高兴的，很快便镇静下来。她擦干了眼泪，威廉那身服装每一处光彩夺目的地方，她都看得出来，也能加以赞赏。她还精神振奋地听他兴高采烈地说起：在起航之前，他可望每天抽出一定时间上岸来，甚至把她带到斯皮特黑德去看看这艘轻巡洋舰。
　　门再次打开的时候，“画眉”号的医生坎贝尔先生进来了。他是个品行端正的年轻人，是专门来叫他的朋友的。由于座位拥挤，好不容易才给他摆了张椅子，年轻的沏茶姑娘赶忙给他洗了一只杯子和一只茶碟。两位青年情真意切地谈了一刻钟，这时家里闹上加闹，乱上加乱，大人小孩一齐动了起来，两人动身的时刻到了。一切准备就绪，威廉告辞了，男人们全走了——三个男孩不听妈妈劝告，非要把哥哥和坎贝尔先生送到军舰的出入口，普莱斯先生这时要去给邻居还报纸。
　　现在可以指望清静一点了。因此，丽贝卡遵命撤去茶具，普莱斯太太到处找一只衬衫袖子，忙活了半天，最后由贝齐从厨房的一个抽屉里给找了出来。接着，这伙女人就变得相当安静了。妈妈又为无法给萨姆赶做出行装叹惜了一阵之后，才有闲暇想起她的大女儿及其曼斯菲尔德的朋友们。
　　她向范妮问起了几个问题，最先问到的是：“我伯特伦姐姐是怎样管教仆人们的？她是不是像我一样苦于找不到像点样的仆人？”一提到仆人，她的思绪便离开了北安普敦郡，一心想着自己家里的苦楚，朴次茅斯的仆人们全都品质恶劣，她觉得自己的两个仆人尤为糟糕。她只顾数落丽贝卡的缺点，完全忘了伯特伦一家人。苏珊也列举了丽贝卡的大量不是，小贝齐举的例子更多，她们把丽贝卡说得一无是处，范妮猜想，她妈妈是想在丽贝卡干满一年后辞掉她。
　　“干满一年！”普莱斯太太嚷道。“我真想不等她干满一年就辞掉她，因为她要到11月才干满一年。亲爱的，朴次茅斯的仆人可真不好办，要是谁用仆人能用过半年，那就算出了奇迹。我不敢指望能找到合适的人，我要是辞掉丽贝卡，再找一个只可能更糟。不过，我想我不是个很难伺候的主人——再说她在这里也真够轻松的，因为总是有个丫头听她使唤，何况我自己常常把活干掉一半。”
　　范妮默默不语，这倒不是因为她认为这种弊端已经没有办法补救了。这时她坐在那里望着贝齐，情不自禁地想起了另一个妹姝。那个小妹妹长得很漂亮，当年她离家去北安普敦郡的时候，她比现在的贝齐小不了多少，她走了几年后她就死掉了。她特别招人喜爱。那时候，她喜爱她胜过喜爱苏珊。她死去的消息最后传到曼斯菲尔德的时候，她一度非常悲伤。看到贝齐不由得又想起了小玛丽，但她说什么也不愿提起她，免得惹妈妈伤心。就在她抱着这样的想法打量贝齐的当儿，贝齐在离她不远的地方拿着一个什么东西让她看，同时又挡着不让苏珊看见。
　　“你手里拿的什么，亲爱的？”范妮说。“来给我看看。”
　　原来是把银刀。苏珊忽地跳起来，扬言是她的，想要夺过去。贝齐跑到妈妈跟前寻求保护，苏珊在一旁责备她，言词还很激烈，显然是想博得范妮的同情。“这是我的刀子，不给我太不像话。是小玛丽姐姐临死的时候留给我的，早就应该归我所有了。可是妈妈不肯给我，总是让贝齐拿着玩。到头来，就让贝齐抢去了，变成她自己的，尽管妈妈曾向我保证不会交给贝齐。”
　　范妮感到大为震惊。妹妹的这番话和妈妈的回答，完全违背了她心目中对母女之间应有的情义、敬重和相亲相爱的概念。
　　“我说，苏珊哪，”普莱斯太太以抱怨的口吻嚷道，“你怎么脾气这么坏呀？你总是为这把刀争吵。你别这么吵来吵去就好了。可怜的小贝齐，苏珊对你多凶啊！不过，亲爱的，我叫你到抽屉里去取东西，你不该把刀拿出来。你要知道，我对你说过，叫你不要碰它，因为苏珊一见你拿就要冒火。贝齐，下一次我要把它藏起来。可怜的玛丽临死前两个钟头把它交给我保存，她万万没想到你们像狗抢骨头一样抢这把刀。可怜的小家伙！我只是勉勉强强能听见她说的话，那话真让人感动：‘妈妈，等我死了埋掉以后，把我的刀送给苏珊妹妹。’可怜的小宝贝啊！她好喜欢这把刀，范妮，她卧床不起的时候，一直把它放在身边。这是她的好教毋马克斯韦尔将军的太太送给她的，那时她离死只有六个礼拜了。可怜的小亲亲啊！也好，她死了，免得受我们遭的罪。我的贝齐（抚摸着她），你可没有她的好运气，没有这么个好教母。诺里斯姨妈离我们太远了，不会想到你这样的小人儿。”
　　范妮确实没有从诺里斯姨妈那里捎来任何礼物，只带来了她的口信，希望她的教女做个好孩子，好好念书。有一次，她曾在曼斯菲尔德庄园的客厅里听到窃窃私语，说是要送贝齐一本祈祷书，但是以后再也没听到说起这件事。不过，诺里斯太太还是抱着这个念头回到家里，取下了她丈夫用过的两本祈祷书，可是拿到手里一琢磨，那股慷慨的劲头也就烟消云散了。她觉得一本书的字太小，不利于孩子的眼睛，另一本太笨重，不便于孩子带来带去。
　　范妮又累得不行了，一听说请她就寝去，她便不胜感激地接受了。看在姐姐回来的分上，贝齐获许比平时晚睡一个小时，一个小时到了仍然不肯去睡，还要哭哭闹闹，没等她哭闹完，范妮就起身上楼了，只听楼下又吵吵闹闹，一片混乱：男孩子们要面包加奶酪，父亲吆喝着要加水朗姆酒，而丽贝卡总是不能让大家满意。
　　她要和苏珊共住的这间卧室又狭小，又没有什么装饰，根本提不起她的兴致。楼上楼下房间这么小，走廊楼梯这么窄，都超出了她的想象。她在曼斯菲尔德庄园住的那间阁楼，本是人人嫌小不愿住的地方，现在想起来倒觉得蛮阔气了。　

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