Nothing happened the next day, or the next, to weaken her terrors. Two posts came in, and brought no refutation, public or private. There was no second letter to explain away the first from Miss Crawford. There was no intelligence from Mansfield, though it was time to hear from her aunt. This was an evil omen.

Fanny had scarcely the shadow of a hope to soothe her mind, and was reduced to such a low state, as no unkind mother, except Mrs. Price, could have overlooked.

The third day did bring the sickening knock, and a letter was put into her hands. It bore the London postmark, and came from Edmund.

“Dear Fanny,—

“You know our present wretchedness. May God support you under your share! We have been here two days, but there is nothing to be done. They cannot be traced.

“You may not have heard of the latest blow—Julia’s elopement. She is gone to Scotland with Yates. She left London a few hours before we entered it. At any other time this would have been felt dreadfully. Now it seems nothing; yet it is an heavy aggravation.

“My father is not overpowered. More cannot be hoped. He is still able to think and act; and I write, by his desire, to propose your returning home. He is anxious to get you there for my mother’s sake.

“I shall be at Portsmouth the morning after you receive this, and hope to find you ready to set off for Mansfield. My father wishes you to invite Susan to go with you for a few months. Settle it as you like; say what is proper; I am sure you will feel such an instance of his kindness at such a moment! Do justice to his meaning, however I may confuse it.

“You may imagine something of my present state. There is no end of the evil let loose upon us. Verily, the Exorcisms have failed. You will see me early by the mail.—Yours, etc.”

Never had Fanny more wanted a cordial (for the last few days she even threw momentary wistful glances at her father’s horrid rum bottle). Never had she received such a one as this letter contained.

To-morrow! to leave Portsmouth to-morrow! She was in the greatest danger of being exquisitely happy, while so many were miserable. The evil which brought such good to her! She dreaded she might become insensible to it.

To be going so soon, sent for so kindly, sent for as a comfort, and with leave to take Susan, was altogether such a combination of blessings as to set her heart aglow. It seemed to distance every pain, and made her incapable of suitably sharing the distress even of those whose distress she thought of most.