Chapter: It was presumed that Mr. Crawford was travelling back, to London, on the
morrow, for nothing more was seen of him at Mr. Price's; and two days
afterwards, it was a fact ascertained to Fanny by the following letter
from his sister, opened and read by her, on another account, with the
most anxious curiosity:--

"I have to inform you, my dearest Fanny, that Henry has been down to
Portsmouth to see you; that he had a delightful walk with you to the
dockyard last Saturday, and one still more to be dwelt on the next day,
on the ramparts; when the balmy air, the sparkling sea, and your sweet
looks and conversation were altogether in the most delicious harmony,
and afforded sensations which are to raise ecstasy even in retrospect.
This, as well as I understand, is to be the substance of my information.
He makes me write, but I do not know what else is to be communicated,
except this said visit to Portsmouth, and these two said walks, and his
introduction to your family, especially to a fair sister of yours, a
fine girl of fifteen, who was of the party on the ramparts, taking her
first lesson, I presume, in love. I have not time for writing much, but
it would be out of place if I had, for this is to be a mere letter of
business, penned for the purpose of conveying necessary information,
which could not be delayed without risk of evil. My dear, dear Fanny,
if I had you here, how I would talk to you! You should listen to me till
you were tired, and advise me till you were still tired more; but it is
impossible to put a hundredth part of my great mind on paper, so I will
abstain altogether, and leave you to guess what you like. I have no news
for you. You have politics, of course; and it would be too bad to plague
you with the names of people and parties that fill up my time. I ought
to have sent you an account of your cousin's first party, but I was
lazy, and now it is too long ago; suffice it, that everything was just
as it ought to be, in a style that any of her connexions must have been
gratified to witness, and that her own dress and manners did her the
greatest credit. My friend, Mrs. Fraser, is mad for such a house, and it
would not make _me_ miserable. I go to Lady Stornaway after Easter;
she seems in high spirits, and very happy. I fancy Lord S. is very
good-humoured and pleasant in his own family, and I do not think him so
very ill-looking as I did--at least, one sees many worse. He will not
do by the side of your cousin Edmund. Of the last-mentioned hero, what
shall I say? If I avoided his name entirely, it would look suspicious.
I will say, then, that we have seen him two or three times, and that
my friends here are very much struck with his gentlemanlike appearance.
Mrs. Fraser (no bad judge) declares she knows but three men in town
who have so good a person, height, and air; and I must confess, when he
dined here the other day, there were none to compare with him, and
we were a party of sixteen. Luckily there is no distinction of dress
nowadays to tell tales, but--but--but Yours affectionately."

"I had almost forgot (it was Edmund's fault: he gets into my head more
than does me good) one very material thing I had to say from Henry and
myself--I mean about our taking you back into Northamptonshire. My dear
little creature, do not stay at Portsmouth to lose your pretty looks.
Those vile sea-breezes are the ruin of beauty and health. My poor aunt
always felt affected if within ten miles of the sea, which the Admiral
of course never believed, but I know it was so. I am at your service
and Henry's, at an hour's notice. I should like the scheme, and we would
make a little circuit, and shew you Everingham in our way, and perhaps
you would not mind passing through London, and seeing the inside of St.
George's, Hanover Square. Only keep your cousin Edmund from me at such
a time: I should not like to be tempted. What a long letter! one word
more. Henry, I find, has some idea of going into Norfolk again upon
some business that _you_ approve; but this cannot possibly be permitted
before the middle of next week; that is, he cannot anyhow be spared till
after the 14th, for _we_ have a party that evening. The value of a man
like Henry, on such an occasion, is what you can have no conception
of; so you must take it upon my word to be inestimable. He will see the
Rushworths, which own I am not sorry for--having a little curiosity, and
so I think has he--though he will not acknowledge it."

This was a letter to be run through eagerly, to be read deliberately,
to supply matter for much reflection, and to leave everything in greater
suspense than ever. The only certainty to be drawn from it was, that
nothing decisive had yet taken place. Edmund had not yet spoken. How
Miss Crawford really felt, how she meant to act, or might act without
or against her meaning; whether his importance to her were quite what
it had been before the last separation; whether, if lessened, it were
likely to lessen more, or to recover itself, were subjects for endless
conjecture, and to be thought of on that day and many days to come,
without producing any conclusion. The idea that returned the oftenest
was that Miss Crawford, after proving herself cooled and staggered by
a return to London habits, would yet prove herself in the end too much
attached to him to give him up. She would try to be more ambitious than
her heart would allow. She would hesitate, she would tease, she would
condition, she would require a great deal, but she would finally accept.

This was Fanny's most frequent expectation. A house in town--that, she
thought, must be impossible. Yet there was no saying what Miss Crawford
might not ask. The prospect for her cousin grew worse and worse. The
woman who could speak of him, and speak only of his appearance! What an
unworthy attachment! To be deriving support from the commendations of
Mrs. Fraser! _She_ who had known him intimately half a year! Fanny was
ashamed of her. Those parts of the letter which related only to Mr.
Crawford and herself, touched her, in comparison, slightly. Whether Mr.
Crawford went into Norfolk before or after the 14th was certainly no
concern of hers, though, everything considered, she thought he _would_
go without delay. That Miss Crawford should endeavour to secure a
meeting between him and Mrs. Rushworth, was all in her worst line of
conduct, and grossly unkind and ill-judged; but she hoped _he_ would
not be actuated by any such degrading curiosity. He acknowledged no such
inducement, and his sister ought to have given him credit for better
feelings than her own.

She was yet more impatient for another letter from town after receiving
this than she had been before; and for a few days was so unsettled by
it altogether, by what had come, and what might come, that her usual
readings and conversation with Susan were much suspended. She could
not command her attention as she wished. If Mr. Crawford remembered her
message to her cousin, she thought it very likely, most likely, that he
would write to her at all events; it would be most consistent with his
usual kindness; and till she got rid of this idea, till it gradually
wore off, by no letters appearing in the course of three or four days
more, she was in a most restless, anxious state.

At length, a something like composure succeeded. Suspense must be
submitted to, and must not be allowed to wear her out, and make her
useless. Time did something, her own exertions something more, and she
resumed her attentions to Susan, and again awakened the same interest in
them.

Susan was growing very fond of her, and though without any of the early
delight in books which had been so strong in Fanny, with a disposition
much less inclined to sedentary pursuits, or to information for
information's sake, she had so strong a desire of not _appearing_
ignorant, as, with a good clear understanding, made her a most
attentive, profitable, thankful pupil. Fanny was her oracle. Fanny's
explanations and remarks were a most important addition to every essay,
or every chapter of history. What Fanny told her of former times dwelt
more on her mind than the pages of Goldsmith; and she paid her sister
the compliment of preferring her style to that of any printed author.
The early habit of reading was wanting.

Their conversations, however, were not always on subjects so high as
history or morals. Others had their hour; and of lesser matters, none
returned so often, or remained so long between them, as Mansfield Park,
a description of the people, the manners, the amusements, the ways
of Mansfield Park. Susan, who had an innate taste for the genteel and
well-appointed, was eager to hear, and Fanny could not but indulge
herself in dwelling on so beloved a theme. She hoped it was not wrong;
though, after a time, Susan's very great admiration of everything
said or done in her uncle's house, and earnest longing to go into
Northamptonshire, seemed almost to blame her for exciting feelings which
could not be gratified.

Poor Susan was very little better fitted for home than her elder sister;
and as Fanny grew thoroughly to understand this, she began to feel that
when her own release from Portsmouth came, her happiness would have a
material drawback in leaving Susan behind. That a girl so capable of
being made everything good should be left in such hands, distressed her
more and more. Were _she_ likely to have a home to invite her to, what
a blessing it would be! And had it been possible for her to return Mr.
Crawford's regard, the probability of his being very far from objecting
to such a measure would have been the greatest increase of all her own
comforts. She thought he was really good-tempered, and could fancy his
entering into a plan of that sort most pleasantly.

 After Henry leaves, Fanny gets another letter from Mary. Mary reports that Henry still loves and misses her. Mary confesses that she's confused about her feelings for Edmund and could really use someone to talk to. Mary's friends all really like Edmund, though. She reiterates that she is happy to come with Henry to get Fanny whenever she wants to head back to Mansfield Park. Mary then tells Fanny that Henry will see the Rushworths at a party next week. Fanny is relieved that Mary and Edmund aren't engaged yet but she thinks it's only a matter of time. Fanny's pretty jealous of their courtship, and thinks that Mary doesn't deserve Edmund since she's so shallow and superficial. She also thinks it's bad that Mary is OK with Henry meeting Maria again. At the same time, Fanny longs for another letter from Mary. Susan and Fanny continue to grow closer and Susan learns a lot from her older sister. Fanny tells Susan all about Mansfield Park and longs to visit and escape Portsmouth.

