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。