Chapters (57)
- REGENCY ERA PRAISE FOR…
- MANSFIELD PARK AND MUMMIES:
- Dedication
- MANSFIELD PARK AND MUMMIES
- Chapter I
- Chapter II
- Chapter III
- Chapter IV
- Chapter V
- Chapter VI
- Chapter VII
- Chapter VIII
- Chapter IX
- Chapter X
- Chapter XI
- Chapter XII
- Chapter XIII
- Chapter XIV
- Chapter XV
- Chapter XVI
- Chapter XVII
- Chapter XVIII
- Chapter XIX
- Chapter XX
- Chapter XXI
- Chapter XXII
- Chapter XXIII
- Chapter XXIV
- Chapter XXV
- Chapter XXVI
- Chapter XXVII
- Chapter XXVIII
- Chapter XXIX
- Chapter XXX
- Chapter XXXI
- Chapter XXXII
- Chapter XXXIII
- Chapter XXXIV
- Chapter XXXV
- Chapter XXXVI
- Chapter XXXVII
- Chapter XXXVIII
- Chapter XXXIX
- Chapter XL
- Chapter XLI
- Chapter XLII
- Chapter XLIII
- Chapter XLIV
- Chapter XLV
- Chapter XLVI
- Chapter XLVII
- Chapter XLVIII
- APPENDIX
- APPENDIX 2
- Author’s After-Note
- About the Harridan
- Scholarly Footnotes
“Indeed,” said the vampire. “That is why love and its more complex pursuit is so much more gratifying. But—no, I do Sir Thomas justice now. He is just what the head of such a family should be. Nay, in sober sadness, I believe I now love you all.”
And having said so, with a degree of tenderness and consciousness which Fanny had never seen in her before, she turned away for a moment, as though to compose herself.
Presently she said, with a playful smile, “I am now recovered. Let us, dear Fanny, sit down and be comfortable. As to scolding you, which I came fully intending to do, I have not the heart for it.”
And then, Miss Crawford smiled a brilliant, genuine, unusual smile and said, “Good, gentle Fanny! when I think of this being the last time of seeing you for I do not know how long, I feel it quite impossible to do anything but love you. Come, let us embrace! I feel very affectionately toward you!”
Fanny was affected despite herself. She had not foreseen anything of this, and her feelings could seldom withstand the melancholy influence of the word “last.” She cried as if she had loved Miss Crawford, knowing full well what she was, and even so she could not help the moisture welling in her eyes.
Another moment and she would have moved forward with open arms, to embrace the dark creature without fear, and merely from a fullness of pity. But suddenly there was a movement in the air, as though a hot wind blew in, out of nowhere, filling the East room with dryness of the desert and a distant ancient perfume of lotus. . . .
Lord Easwind stood before them, in his somber raiment of an elegant gentleman of the ton. He raised his hand in a gesture of caution, and said, “No, Fanny, stop!”
Fanny was frozen in shock.
“No,” he continued, looking at her with absolute earnestness. “You must not trust her now—not now, not ever. Do not embrace her darkness. For she means to deceive.”
“East Wind!” said Fanny, her mind in a whirlwind. “You have come back! Oh, I had been certain you were gone, I was so sure, that you had quit this sphere—”