“Edmund! True, I believe he is, generally speaking, kind to her, and so is Sir Thomas in his way; but it is the way of a rich, superior uncle. What can Sir Thomas and Edmund together do for her happiness, comfort, honour, and dignity in the world, to what I shall do?”

Chapter XXXI

Henry Crawford was at Mansfield Park again the next morning, and at an earlier hour than common visiting warrants. The two ladies were together in the breakfast-room. Fortunately for him, Lady Bertram was on the very point of leaving, and directed a servant to “Let Sir Thomas know.”

After her exit, Henry turned instantly to Fanny, and, taking out some letters, said, with a most animated look, “I am gratified by an opportunity of seeing you alone, wishing it more than you can have any idea. Knowing as I do what your feelings as a sister are, what joyous news I now bring! He is made. Your brother is a lieutenant. I have the infinite satisfaction of congratulating you on your brother’s promotion. Here are the letters which announce it. You will, perhaps, like to see them.”

Fanny could not speak, but he did not want her to speak.

Outside the window, in the shrubbery, came the thrashing sounds of what could only possibly be Mrs. Norris, in pursuit of some field creature, as had become her morning habit, as of late—but Fanny could not think of that, not now—

To see the expression of Fanny’s eyes, the change of her complexion, the progress of her feelings, their doubt, confusion, and felicity, was enough.

She took the letters as he gave them. The first was from the Admiral to inform his nephew of his having succeeded in the object he had undertaken, the promotion of young Price. And enclosing two more, one from the Secretary of the First Lord to a friend, whom the Admiral had set to work in the business, the other from that friend to himself, of the circumstance of Mr. William Price’s commission as Second Lieutenant of H.M. Sloop Thrush.

While her hand was trembling under these letters, her eye running from one to the other, and her heart swelling with emotion, Crawford continued, with unfeigned eagerness—

“I will not talk of my own happiness,” said he, “great as it is, for I think only of yours. Compared with you, who has a right to be happy? I have almost grudged myself my own prior knowledge of what you ought to have known before all the world. I have not lost a moment, however.” And then Mr. Crawford went on at great passionate length to describe how he had involved himself and his uncle on William’s behalf.

“My uncle, who is the very best man in the world, has exerted himself, as I knew he would, after seeing your brother. He was delighted with him. No warmer wishes and higher commendation possible, than those bestowed by my uncle after the evening they had passed together.”