She had no anxious guilt to cloud her pleasure: her own time had been irreproachably spent during his absence. She had raised and unleashed the grand Mummy, done a great deal of carpet-work, made many yards of fringe; and would have answered as freely for the good conduct of all the young people as for her own. It was so agreeable to her to see him again, to hear him talk, to have her ear amused and filled by his narratives, that she began particularly to feel how dreadfully she must have missed him, and how impossible it would have been for her to bear a lengthened absence, even while surrounded by her dear Egypt and its returned Pharaoh.

Mrs. Norris was by no means to be compared in happiness to her sister. Not that she was incommoded by many fears of Sir Thomas’s disapprobation, for her judgment had been so blinded that, except by the instinctive caution with which she had whisked away Mr. Rushworth’s pink satin cloak as her brother-in-law entered, she could hardly be said to shew any sign of alarm. But she was vexed by the manner of his return. Instead of seeing him first, and having to spread the happy news through the house, Sir Thomas had sought no confidant but the butler, and followed him into the drawing-room. Mrs. Norris felt herself defrauded of use—whether his arrival or his death were to be the thing unfolded. Now she was labouring to be important where nothing was wanted but peace and silence. Sir Thomas resolutely declined all dinner: he would rather wait for tea. Still Mrs. Norris managed, in the most interesting moment of his retelling of his travels, to burst through his recital with the proposal of soup.

Sir Thomas could not be provoked. “Still the same anxiety for everybody’s comfort, my dear Mrs. Norris. But indeed I would rather have nothing but tea.”

“Well, then, Lady Bertram, suppose you speak for tea directly; suppose you hurry Baddeley a little; he seems behindhand to-night.” She carried this point with a yelp, and Sir Thomas’s narrative proceeded.

At length there was a pause. His immediate tales were exhausted, and it seemed enough to look joyfully around him at the beloved circle. But the pause was not long. In the elation of her spirits Lady Bertram became talkative, and what were the sensations of her children upon hearing her say, “How do you think the young people have been amusing themselves lately, Sir Thomas? Whilst the Nile flows deep, they have been acting. We have been all alive with acting.”

“Indeed! and what have you been acting?”

“Oh! they’ll tell you all about it.”