Mansfield Park. Джейн Остин

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СКАЧАТЬ indeed look happy, her eyes were sparkling with pleasure, and she was speaking with great animation, for Julia and her partner, Mr Crawford, were close to her; they were all in a cluster together. How she had looked before, Fanny could not recollect, for she had been dancing with Edmund herself, and had not thought about her.

      Mrs Norris continued, ‘It is quite delightful, ma’am, to see young people so properly happy, so well suited, and so much the thing! I cannot but think of dear Sir Thomas’s delight. And what do you say, ma’am, to the chance of another match? Mr Rushworth has set a good example, and such things are very catching.’

      Mrs Rushworth, who saw nothing but her son, was quite at a loss. ‘The couple above, ma’am. Do you see no symptoms there?’

      ‘Oh, dear? Miss Julia and Mr Crawford. Yes, indeed. A very pretty match. What is his property?’

      ‘Four thousand a year.’

      ‘Very well. Those who have not more must be satisfied with what they have. Four thousand a year is a pretty estate, and he seems a very genteel, steady young man, so I hope Miss Julia will be very happy.’

      ‘It is not a settled thing, ma’am, yet. We only speak of it among friends. But I have very little doubt it will be. He is growing extremely particular in his attentions.’

      Fanny could listen no further. Listening and wondering were all suspended for a time, for Mr Bertram was in the room again; and though feeling it would be a great honour to be asked by him, she thought it must happen. He came towards their little circle; but instead of asking her to dance, drew a chair near her, and gave her an account of the present state of a sick horse, and the opinion of the groom, from whom he had just parted. Fanny found that it was not to be, and in the modesty of her nature immediately felt that she had been unreasonable in expecting it. When he had told of his horse, he took a newspaper from the table, and looking over it, said in a languid way, ‘If you want to dance, Fanny, I will stand up with you.’ With more than equal civility the offer was declined; she did not wish to dance. ‘I am glad of it,’ said he in a much brisker tone, and throwing down the newspaper again, ‘for I am tired to death. I only wonder how the good people can keep it up so long. They had need be all in love, to find any amusement in such folly; and so they are, I fancy. If you look at them you may see they are so many couple of lovers—all but Yates and Mrs Grant—and, between ourselves, she, poor woman, must want a lover as much as any one of them. A desperate dull life hers must be with the doctor,’ making a sly face as he spoke towards the chair of the latter, who, proving, however, to be close at his elbow, made so instantaneous a change of expression and subject necessary, as Fanny, in spite of everything, could hardly help laughing at. ‘A strange business this in America, Dr Grant! What is your opinion? I always come to you to know what I am to think of public matters.’

      ‘My dear Tom,’ cried his aunt soon afterwards, ‘as you are not dancing, I dare say you will have no objection to join us in a rubber; shall you?’ Then leaving her seat, and coming to him to enforce the proposal, added in a whisper, ‘We want to make a table for Mrs Rushworth, you know. Your mother is quite anxious about it, but cannot very well spare time to sit down herself, because of her fringe. Now, you, and I, and Dr Grant, will just do; and though we play but half-crowns, you know, you may bet half-guineas with him.’

      ‘I should be most happy,’ replied he aloud, and jumping up with alacrity, ‘it would give me the greatest pleasure; but that at this moment I am going to dance. Come, Fanny,’ taking her hand, ‘do not be dawdling any longer, or the dance will be over.’

      Fanny was led off very willingly, though it was impossible for her to feel much gratitude towards her cousin, or distinguish, as he certainly did, between the selfishness of another person and his own.

      ‘A pretty modest request, upon my word,’ he indignantly exclaimed as they walked away. ‘To want to nail me to a card table for the next two hours with herself and Dr Grant, who are always quarrelling, and that poking old woman, who knows no more of whist than of algebra. I wish my good aunt would be a little less busy! And to ask me in such a way, too! without ceremony, before them all, so as to leave me no possibility of refusing. That is what I dislike most particularly. It raises my spleen more than anything, to have the pretence of being asked, of being given a choice, and at the same time addressed in such a way as to oblige one to do the very thing, whatever it be! If I had not luckily thought of standing up with you I could not have got out of it. It is a great deal too bad. But when my aunt has got a fancy in her head, nothing can stop her.’

       CHAPTER 13

      The Honourable John Yates, this new friend, had not much to recommend him beyond habits of fashion and expense, and being the younger son of a lord with a tolerable independence; and Sir Thomas would probably have thought his introduction at Mansfield by no means desirable. Mr Bertram’s acquaintance with him had begun at Weymouth, where they had spent ten days together in the same society, and the friendship, if friendship it might be called, had been proved and perfected by Mr Yates’s being invited to take Mansfield in his way, whenever he could, and by his promising to come; and he did come, rather earlier than had been expected, in consequence of the sudden breaking-up of a large party assembled for gaiety at the house of another friend, which he had left Weymouth to join. He came on the wings of disappointment, and with his head full of acting, for it had been a theatrical party; and the play in which he had borne a part, was within two days of representation, when the sudden death of one of the nearest connections of the family had destroyed the scheme and dispersed the performers. To be so near happiness, so near fame, so near the long paragraph in praise of the private theatricals at Ecclesford, the seat of the Right Hon. Lord Ravenshaw, in Cornwall, which would of course have immortalised the whole party for at least a twelvemonth! and being so near, to lose it all, was an injury to be keenly felt, and Mr Yates could talk of nothing else. Ecclesford and its theatre, with its arrangements and dresses, rehearsals, and jokes, was his never-failing subject, and to boast of the past his only consolation.

      Happily for him, a love of the theatre is so general, an itch for acting so strong among young people, that he could hardly out-talk the interest of his hearers. From the first casting of the parts, to the epilogue, it was all bewitching, and there were few who did not wish to have been a party concerned, or would have hesitated to try their skill. The play had been Lovers’ Vows, and Mr Yates was to have been Count Cassel. ‘A trifling part,’ said he, ‘and not at all to my taste, and such a one as I certainly would not accept again; but I was determined to make no difficulties. Lord Ravenshaw and the duke had appropriated the only two characters worth playing before I reached Ecclesford; and though Lord Ravenshaw offered to resign his to me, it was impossible to take it, you know. I was sorry for him that he should have so mistaken his powers, for he was no more equal to the Baron—a little man with a weak voice, always hoarse after the first ten minutes. It must have injured the piece materially; but I was resolved to make no difficulties. Sir Henry thought the duke not equal to Frederick, but that was because Sir Henry wanted the part himself; whereas it was certainly in the best hands of the two. I was surprised to see Sir Henry such a stick. Luckily the strength of the piece did not depend upon him. Our Agatha was inimitable, and the duke was thought very great by many. And upon the whole it would have gone off wonderfully.’

      ‘It was a hard case, upon my word;’ and, ‘I do think you were very much to be pitied,’ were the kind responses of listening sympathy.

      ‘It is not worth complaining about; but to be sure the poor old dowager could not have died at a worse time; and it is impossible to help wishing that the news could have been suppressed for just the three days we wanted. It was but three days; and being only a grandmother, and all happening two hundred miles off, I think there would have been no great harm, СКАЧАТЬ