Chapter: It was, indeed, a triumphant day to Mr. Bertram and Maria. Such a
victory over Edmund's discretion had been beyond their hopes, and was
most delightful. There was no longer anything to disturb them in their
darling project, and they congratulated each other in private on the
jealous weakness to which they attributed the change, with all the glee
of feelings gratified in every way. Edmund might still look grave, and
say he did not like the scheme in general, and must disapprove the play
in particular; their point was gained: he was to act, and he was driven
to it by the force of selfish inclinations only. Edmund had descended
from that moral elevation which he had maintained before, and they were
both as much the better as the happier for the descent.

They behaved very well, however, to _him_ on the occasion, betraying no
exultation beyond the lines about the corners of the mouth, and seemed
to think it as great an escape to be quit of the intrusion of Charles
Maddox, as if they had been forced into admitting him against their
inclination. "To have it quite in their own family circle was what
they had particularly wished. A stranger among them would have been the
destruction of all their comfort"; and when Edmund, pursuing that idea,
gave a hint of his hope as to the limitation of the audience, they were
ready, in the complaisance of the moment, to promise anything. It was
all good-humour and encouragement. Mrs. Norris offered to contrive his
dress, Mr. Yates assured him that Anhalt's last scene with the Baron
admitted a good deal of action and emphasis, and Mr. Rushworth undertook
to count his speeches.

"Perhaps," said Tom, "Fanny may be more disposed to oblige us now.
Perhaps you may persuade _her_."

"No, she is quite determined. She certainly will not act."

"Oh! very well." And not another word was said; but Fanny felt herself
again in danger, and her indifference to the danger was beginning to
fail her already.

There were not fewer smiles at the Parsonage than at the Park on this
change in Edmund; Miss Crawford looked very lovely in hers, and entered
with such an instantaneous renewal of cheerfulness into the whole
affair as could have but one effect on him. "He was certainly right in
respecting such feelings; he was glad he had determined on it." And the
morning wore away in satisfactions very sweet, if not very sound. One
advantage resulted from it to Fanny: at the earnest request of Miss
Crawford, Mrs. Grant had, with her usual good-humour, agreed to
undertake the part for which Fanny had been wanted; and this was all
that occurred to gladden _her_ heart during the day; and even this, when
imparted by Edmund, brought a pang with it, for it was Miss Crawford to
whom she was obliged--it was Miss Crawford whose kind exertions were to
excite her gratitude, and whose merit in making them was spoken of
with a glow of admiration. She was safe; but peace and safety were
unconnected here. Her mind had been never farther from peace. She could
not feel that she had done wrong herself, but she was disquieted
in every other way. Her heart and her judgment were equally against
Edmund's decision: she could not acquit his unsteadiness, and his
happiness under it made her wretched. She was full of jealousy and
agitation. Miss Crawford came with looks of gaiety which seemed an
insult, with friendly expressions towards herself which she could hardly
answer calmly. Everybody around her was gay and busy, prosperous and
important; each had their object of interest, their part, their dress,
their favourite scene, their friends and confederates: all were finding
employment in consultations and comparisons, or diversion in the playful
conceits they suggested. She alone was sad and insignificant: she had
no share in anything; she might go or stay; she might be in the midst
of their noise, or retreat from it to the solitude of the East room,
without being seen or missed. She could almost think anything would
have been preferable to this. Mrs. Grant was of consequence: _her_
good-nature had honourable mention; her taste and her time were
considered; her presence was wanted; she was sought for, and attended,
and praised; and Fanny was at first in some danger of envying her the
character she had accepted. But reflection brought better feelings, and
shewed her that Mrs. Grant was entitled to respect, which could never
have belonged to _her_; and that, had she received even the greatest,
she could never have been easy in joining a scheme which, considering
only her uncle, she must condemn altogether.

Fanny's heart was not absolutely the only saddened one amongst them,
as she soon began to acknowledge to herself. Julia was a sufferer too,
though not quite so blamelessly.

Henry Crawford had trifled with her feelings; but she had very long
allowed and even sought his attentions, with a jealousy of her sister so
reasonable as ought to have been their cure; and now that the conviction
of his preference for Maria had been forced on her, she submitted to it
without any alarm for Maria's situation, or any endeavour at rational
tranquillity for herself. She either sat in gloomy silence, wrapt in
such gravity as nothing could subdue, no curiosity touch, no wit amuse;
or allowing the attentions of Mr. Yates, was talking with forced gaiety
to him alone, and ridiculing the acting of the others.

For a day or two after the affront was given, Henry Crawford had
endeavoured to do it away by the usual attack of gallantry and
compliment, but he had not cared enough about it to persevere against a
few repulses; and becoming soon too busy with his play to have time for
more than one flirtation, he grew indifferent to the quarrel, or rather
thought it a lucky occurrence, as quietly putting an end to what might
ere long have raised expectations in more than Mrs. Grant. She was not
pleased to see Julia excluded from the play, and sitting by disregarded;
but as it was not a matter which really involved her happiness, as Henry
must be the best judge of his own, and as he did assure her, with a
most persuasive smile, that neither he nor Julia had ever had a serious
thought of each other, she could only renew her former caution as to
the elder sister, entreat him not to risk his tranquillity by too
much admiration there, and then gladly take her share in anything that
brought cheerfulness to the young people in general, and that did so
particularly promote the pleasure of the two so dear to her.

"I rather wonder Julia is not in love with Henry," was her observation
to Mary.

"I dare say she is," replied Mary coldly. "I imagine both sisters are."

"Both! no, no, that must not be. Do not give him a hint of it. Think of
Mr. Rushworth!"

"You had better tell Miss Bertram to think of Mr. Rushworth. It may
do _her_ some good. I often think of Mr. Rushworth's property and
independence, and wish them in other hands; but I never think of him. A
man might represent the county with such an estate; a man might escape a
profession and represent the county."

"I dare say he _will_ be in parliament soon. When Sir Thomas comes, I
dare say he will be in for some borough, but there has been nobody to
put him in the way of doing anything yet."

"Sir Thomas is to achieve many mighty things when he comes home," said
Mary, after a pause. "Do you remember Hawkins Browne's 'Address to
Tobacco,' in imitation of Pope?--

     Blest leaf! whose aromatic gales dispense
     To Templars modesty, to Parsons sense.

I will parody them--

     Blest Knight! whose dictatorial looks dispense
     To Children affluence, to Rushworth sense.

Will not that do, Mrs. Grant? Everything seems to depend upon Sir
Thomas's return."

"You will find his consequence very just and reasonable when you see him
in his family, I assure you. I do not think we do so well without him.
He has a fine dignified manner, which suits the head of such a house,
and keeps everybody in their place. Lady Bertram seems more of a cipher
now than when he is at home; and nobody else can keep Mrs. Norris in
order. But, Mary, do not fancy that Maria Bertram cares for Henry. I
am sure _Julia_ does not, or she would not have flirted as she did last
night with Mr. Yates; and though he and Maria are very good friends, I
think she likes Sotherton too well to be inconstant."

"I would not give much for Mr. Rushworth's chance if Henry stept in
before the articles were signed."

"If you have such a suspicion, something must be done; and as soon as
the play is all over, we will talk to him seriously and make him know
his own mind; and if he means nothing, we will send him off, though he
is Henry, for a time."

Julia _did_ suffer, however, though Mrs. Grant discerned it not, and
though it escaped the notice of many of her own family likewise. She had
loved, she did love still, and she had all the suffering which a warm
temper and a high spirit were likely to endure under the disappointment
of a dear, though irrational hope, with a strong sense of ill-usage.
Her heart was sore and angry, and she was capable only of angry
consolations. The sister with whom she was used to be on easy terms was
now become her greatest enemy: they were alienated from each other;
and Julia was not superior to the hope of some distressing end to the
attentions which were still carrying on there, some punishment to
Maria for conduct so shameful towards herself as well as towards Mr.
Rushworth. With no material fault of temper, or difference of opinion,
to prevent their being very good friends while their interests were
the same, the sisters, under such a trial as this, had not affection or
principle enough to make them merciful or just, to give them honour or
compassion. Maria felt her triumph, and pursued her purpose, careless of
Julia; and Julia could never see Maria distinguished by Henry Crawford
without trusting that it would create jealousy, and bring a public
disturbance at last.

Fanny saw and pitied much of this in Julia; but there was no outward
fellowship between them. Julia made no communication, and Fanny took
no liberties. They were two solitary sufferers, or connected only by
Fanny's consciousness.

The inattention of the two brothers and the aunt to Julia's
discomposure, and their blindness to its true cause, must be imputed to
the fullness of their own minds. They were totally preoccupied. Tom was
engrossed by the concerns of his theatre, and saw nothing that did not
immediately relate to it. Edmund, between his theatrical and his real
part, between Miss Crawford's claims and his own conduct, between love
and consistency, was equally unobservant; and Mrs. Norris was too busy
in contriving and directing the general little matters of the company,
superintending their various dresses with economical expedient, for
which nobody thanked her, and saving, with delighted integrity, half
a crown here and there to the absent Sir Thomas, to have leisure for
watching the behaviour, or guarding the happiness of his daughters.

 It's a glorious day for Tom and Maria: their overly-moral brother has fallen off his pedestal and has agreed to act with them. Edmund is now no better than they are and he's a big hypocrite, to boot. Edmund still insists he's doing the most moral thing he could do given the situation, but everyone ignores him. Edmund defends Fanny's decision to not act and she's soon the only young person in the house not in the play. She's not even offered a job as stage manager or set designer since Tom has hired some guys to build them a stage and to paint some scenery. It's questionable as to where Tom got the money to do this. Sir Thomas's piggy bank has probably been broken into. Fanny is super jealous of Mary and is pretty miserable to be left out even though she's just as terrified of being included and forced to act. Fanny notices that Julia is suffering, too, but decides that Julia's to blame for a lot of her problems while she herself is blameless. Fanny's rather full of herself here. Mrs. Grant has agreed to do the part that Fanny refused and everyone is glad to have her in the Club since she's so fun and nice. Julia spends her days sulking, making fun of everyone else, and chatting with Mr. Yates. Mrs. Grant chats about the situation with Mary. Mary thinks that everyone involved in the love quadrangle are being pretty ridiculous and that everything is probably going to blow up in their faces when Sir Thomas returns. Mrs. Grant says that neither of the Bertram girls really like Henry since Maria is engaged and Julia is now flirting with Yates. Mary is cynical about it all and Mrs. Grant says that they may need to send Henry away if this is going to be a problem. Julia is suffering from a broken heart all this time. She and Maria, once close sisters, have a hugely strained relationship now. Fanny is the only one who notices that Julia is suffering though she does nothing to reach out to her cousin. Both girls suffer in silence.

