“The place, Fanny, is what you will not quit, though you quit the house. Indeed, as you are one of the family, the Curse transforms to a Blessing of sorts, and reaches us all and will keep you bound and localized as surely as anything. You will have as free a command of the park and gardens as ever. You will still witness the daily exotic crates delivery by post at the gates. Even your constant little heart need not take fright at such a nominal change. You will have the same walks to frequent, the same library to choose from, the same crocodile and cat statuary and clay tablets to avoid smashing at every turn, the same people to look at, the same horse to ride.”

“Very true. Yes, dear old grey pony! So much like a tiny camel, says my aunt, your mother, but I never quite saw that—Ah! cousin, when I remember how much I used to dread riding, what terrors it gave me to hear it talked of as likely to do me good, and then think of the kind pains you took to persuade me out of my fears, and convince me that I should like it after a little while, and feel how right you proved to be, I am inclined to hope you may always prophesy as well.”

“Indeed! Did anyone ever mention, you now ride like an Amazon, cousin? Splendid seat! And I am quite convinced that your being with Mrs. Norris will be as good for your mind as riding has been for your health, and as much for your ultimate happiness too.”

So ended their discourse, which might as well have been spared. For Mrs. Norris had not the smallest intention of taking Fanny. It had never occurred to her but as a thing to be carefully avoided. To prevent its being expected, she had fixed on the smallest habitation 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 (not to forget, a place to lock herself up during the full moon, for the thing which shall not be spoken of). The spare rooms at the Parsonage had never been wanted, but the absolute necessity of a spare room for a “friend” was now never forgotten. Not all her precautions, however, could save her from being suspected of something better. Perhaps, her very display of the importance of a spare room might have misled Sir Thomas to suppose it really intended for Fanny. Lady Bertram soon brought the matter to a certainty by carelessly observing to Mrs. Norris—

“I think, sister, we need not keep Miss Lee any longer, when Fanny goes to live with you.”

Mrs. Norris almost started. “Live with me, dear Lady Bertram! what do you mean?”