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
My Fanny—indeed, at this very time, I have the satisfaction of knowing—must have been happy in spite of everything. She must have been a happy creature in spite of all that she felt for the distress of those around her.
She had sources of delight that must force their way. She was returned to Mansfield Park, she was useful, she was beloved; she was safe from Mr. Crawford. And when Sir Thomas came back she had every proof that could be given (despite his melancholy state of spirits), of his perfect approbation and increased regard.
Happy as all this must make her, she would still have been happy without any of it. For—Edmund was no longer the dupe of Miss Crawford.
It is true that Edmund was very far from happy himself. He was suffering from disappointment and regret, grieving over what was, and wishing for what could never be.
She knew it was so, and was sorry. But it was a sorrow so founded on satisfaction, so much in harmony with every dearest sensation, that few might not have been glad to exchange their greatest gaiety for it.
Poor Sir Thomas, conscious of errors in his own conduct as a parent, was the longest to suffer. He felt that he ought not to have allowed the marriage; that his daughter’s sentiments had been sufficiently known to him to render him culpable in authorising it; that in so doing he had been governed by motives of selfishness and worldly wisdom. These reflections required some time to soften, but time will do almost everything. Though little comfort arose on Mrs. Rushworth’s side for the misery she had occasioned, comfort was to be found in his other children.
Julia’s match became a less desperate business than he first considered it. She was humble, and wishing to be forgiven. And Mr. Yates, desirous of being really received into the family, was disposed to look up to him and be guided. Yates was not very solid; but there was a hope of his becoming less trifling—at least tolerably domestic and quiet. At any rate, there was comfort in finding his estate rather more, and his debts much less, than Sir Thomas had feared, and in being consulted and treated as the friend best worth attending to.