After a moment’s reflection, Mr. Crawford replied, “I know Mansfield, I know its way. I know its faults towards you. I know the danger of your being so far forgotten, as to have your comforts give way to the imaginary convenience of any single being in the family. I am aware that you may be left here week after week, if Sir Thomas cannot settle everything for coming himself, or sending your aunt’s maid for you, without involving the slightest alteration of the arrangements which he may have laid down for the next quarter of a year. This will not do. Two months is an ample allowance; I should think six weeks quite enough. I am considering your sister’s health,” said he, addressing himself to Susan, “which I think the confinement of Portsmouth unfavourable to. She requires constant air and exercise. When you know her as well as I do, I am sure you will agree that she ought never to be long banished from the free air and liberty of the country. If, therefore” (turning again to Fanny), “you find yourself growing unwell, and any difficulties arise about your returning to Mansfield—natural or otherwise—without waiting for the two months to be ended, that must not be regarded of consequence. If you feel yourself at all less strong or comfortable than usual, simply let my sister know! Give her only the slightest hint, she and I will immediately come down, and take you back to Mansfield. You know the ease and the pleasure and feeling with which this would be done.”

Fanny thanked him, but tried to laugh it off by saying that she was perfectly capable of taking military action against mummified Egyptians on her own, if things came to such.

“That you are indeed, bravest Fanny. And yet, I am perfectly serious,” he replied, “as you perfectly know. And I hope you will not be cruelly concealing any tendency to indisposition. Indeed, you shall not. It shall not be in your power—for so long only as you positively say, in every letter to Mary, ‘I am well,’ and I know you cannot speak or write a falsehood—so long only shall you be considered as well.”

Fanny thanked him again, but was affected and distressed to a degree that made it impossible for her to say much, or even to be certain of what she ought to say. This was towards the close of their walk. He attended them to the last, and left them only at the door of their own house, when he knew them to be going to dinner, and therefore pretended to be waited for elsewhere.