Such were Fanny’s persuasions. She suffered very much, and could never speak of Miss Crawford without pain.

Sir Thomas, meanwhile, went on with his own hopes and observations. But another item gave him a sort of hope: William had obtained a ten days’ leave of absence, and was coming to Northamptonshire, the happiest of lieutenants, to share his joy and describe his uniform.

He came; and he would have been delighted to bring his uniform, had not cruel custom prohibited its appearance except on duty. So the uniform remained at Portsmouth, and Edmund conjectured that before Fanny had any chance of seeing it, all its own freshness and all the freshness of its wearer’s feelings must be worn away. So reasoned Edmund, till his father made him the confidant of a scheme which placed Fanny’s chance of seeing the second lieutenant of H.M.S. Thrush in all his glory in another light.

This scheme was that Fanny should accompany her brother back to Portsmouth, and spend a little time with her own family.

It had occurred to Sir Thomas as a right and desirable measure, and he consulted his son. Edmund agreed it was an excellent notion. Furthermore, it was timely, and would be highly agreeable to Fanny. This was enough for Sir Thomas, and he pronounced a decisive “then so it shall be.”

In fact, Sir Thomas had a different primary motive in sending her away—not to see her parents again, and not to make her happy. Rather, Sir Thomas had in mind a life lesson. He certainly wished her to go willingly, but he also wished her to be heartily sick of home before her visit ended. Sir Thomas conceived that a little abstinence from the elegancies and luxuries of Mansfield Park would bring her to better appreciate the value of that home of greater permanence, and equal comfort, of which she had the offer from Crawford.

A residence of eight or nine years in the abode of wealth and plenty had somewhat disordered Fanny’s powers of comparing and judging. Her father’s paltry house would teach her the value of a good income; and Sir Thomas trusted that she would benefit, in her future, for the experiment he had devised.

Fanny was in a quiet rapture when she first understood what was intended: when her uncle made her the offer of visiting the parents, brothers, and sisters, from whom she had been divided almost half her life; of returning for a couple of months to the scenes of her infancy, with William as the protector and companion of her journey.