Mansfield Park

d novelties. Mrs. Norris, on quitting the Parsonage, removed first to the Park, and afterwards to a small house of Sir Thomas's in the village, and consoled hersel

different disposal of the next presentation necessary, and the younger brother must help to pay for the pleasures of the elder. There was another family living actually held for Edmund; but though this circumstance had made the arrangement somewhat ea

y, thirty years, perhaps for life, of more than half the income which ought to be his. It may hereafter be in my power, or in yours (I hope it will), to procure him better preferment; but it must not be forgotten tha

t, firstly, that he had not been half so much in debt as some of his friends; secondly, that his father had made a most tireso

ield; and on proving to be a hearty man of forty-five, seemed likely to disappoint Mr. Bertram's calculations. B

ldren; and they entered the neighbourhood with the usual

and as his own circumstances were rendered less fair than heretofore, by some recent losses on his West India estate, in addition to his eldest son's extravagance, it became not undesirable to himself to be relieved from the expense of her support, and the obligation of her future provision. In the fu

o do more than repeat her aunt

ars with us, and my sister always meant to take you when Mr. Norri

been unexpected. She had never received kindne

to go away," said she,

suppose you have had as little to vex you since yo

ngrateful, aunt,"

ot. I have always foun

ver to live

ble home. It can make very little difference to

rence to be so small, she could not think of living with her aunt with anythi

gh you have often persuaded me into being reconciled to things that I disliked at firs

dee

settled. I am to leave Mansfield Park, and go to the Wh

ere not unpleasant to you, I sh

cou

is choosing a friend and companion exactly where she ought, and I am glad her love of money does not

use and everything in it: I shall love nothing th

She never knew how to be pleasant to children. But you are now of an age to be treated better; I thi

be importan

to prev

uation, my foolishn

is no reason in the world why you should not be important where you are known. You have good sense, and a sweet temper, and I am sure you have a

er thank you as I ought, for thinking so well of me. Oh! cousin, if I am

he park; but you will belong to us almost as much as ever. The two families will be meeting every day in the year. The only difference will be that, living with your au

do not

for having the charge of you now. She is of a temper to do a great deal for anybody she r

very much obliged to you for trying to reconcile me to what must be. If I could suppose my aunt really to care for me, it

rk and gardens as ever. Even your constant little heart need not take fright at such a nominal change. You will ha

good (oh! how I have trembled at my uncle's opening his lips if horses were talked of), and then think of the kind pains you took to reason and persuade me out of

is will be as good for your mind as riding has been for

ation which could rank as genteel among the buildings of Mansfield parish, the White House being only just large enough to receive herself and her servants, and allow a spare room for a friend, of which she made a very particular point. The spare rooms at the Parsonage had never been wanted, but the absolute necessity of a spare room for a fr

keep Miss Lee any longer, when

. "Live with me, dear Lady

you? I thought you had se

nny? Me! a poor, helpless, forlorn widow, unfit for anything, my spirits quite broke down; what could I do with a girl at her time of life? A girl of fifteen! the very age of all others to need most attention and care, and put th

know. I suppose he

e wished me to take Fanny. I am sure in

. We both thought it would be a comfort to you. But if you do not

my peace in this world destroyed, with hardly enough to support me in the rank of a gentlewoman, and enable me to live so as not to disgrace the memory of the dear departed-what possible comfort could I have in taking suc

mind living by yo

My situation is as much altered as my income. A great many things were due from poor Mr. Norris, as clergyman of the parish, that cannot be expected from me. It is unknown how much was consumed in our kitchen by odd comers and goers

will. You always

children's good that I wish to be richer. I have nobody else to care for, but I shou

lf about them. They are sure of being well pr

ll be rather straitened if the Antigu

tled. Sir Thomas has been

so, if Sir Thomas should ever speak again about my taking Fanny, you will be able to say that my health and spirits put it q

llusion to it from him. He could not but wonder at her refusing to do anything for a niece whom she had been so forward to adopt; but, as she took early care to make him, as well as Lady Bertram, understand that whate

consolation to Edmund for his disappointment in what he had expected to be so essentially serviceable to her. Mrs. Norris took possessio

y did at Mansfield Park, and was scarcely ever seen in her offices. Mrs. Norris could not speak with any temper of such grievances, nor of the quantity of butter and eggs that were regularly consumed in the house. "Nobody loved plenty and hospitality more than herself; nobody more hated pitiful doings; the Parsonage, she believed, had never been wanting in comforts of

mist, but she felt all the injuries of beauty in Mrs. Grant's being so well settled in life without being handsome, an

ts and conversation of the ladies. Sir Thomas found it expedient to go to Antigua himself, for the better arrangement of his affairs, and he took his eldes

is daughters to the direction of others at their present most interesting time of life. He could not think Lady Bertram quite equal to supply his place with them, or rather, to pe

d by any alarm for his safety, or solicitude for his comfort, being one of those persons

elings were ungrateful, and she really grieved because she could not grieve. "Sir Thomas, who had done so much for her and her brothers, and who was gone perhaps never to return! that she should see him go without a tear! it was a shameful insensibility." He had said to her, moreover, on the very last morning, that he hoped she might see William again in the course of the ensuing winter, and had charged her to write and invite him to Mansfield as soon as the squadron to which he belonged should be known to be in England. "This was so thoughtful and kind!" and would he only have smiled upon her, and called he