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 dear Sir Thomas, I perfectly comprehend you, and do justice to the generosity and delicacy of your notions. I entirely agree with you as to the propriety of fully providing for a child one had taken into one’s own hands. Having no children of my own, I look to the children of my sisters! Do not let us be frightened from a good deed by a trifle. Give a girl an education, by all means, then send her off to harvest Egypt if it pleases—” (with a look at her sister) “You are thinking of your sons forming a possible tendre for a female cousin—but that is the least likely to happen. They would be brought up like brothers and sisters. It is, in fact, the only sure way of preventing the connexion. Suppose her a pretty girl, and seen by Tom or Edmund for the first time seven years hence—I dare say there would be mischief. The very idea of her having been suffered to grow up at a distance from us all in poverty and neglect, would be enough to make either of the dear, sweet-tempered boys in love with her. But breed her up with them from this time, and suppose her even to have the beauty of an angel, she will never be more to either than a sister.”
“There is a great deal of truth in what you say,” replied Sir Thomas, “I only meant to observe that it ought not to be lightly engaged in. To make it really serviceable to Mrs. Price, and creditable to ourselves, we must secure to the child the provision of a gentlewoman.”
“I thoroughly understand you,” cried Mrs. Norris, “you are everything that is generous and considerate. So, if you are not against it, I will write to my poor sister tomorrow, and make the proposal. And, as soon as matters are settled, I will engage to get the child to Mansfield, with no trouble to you. I will send Nanny to London on purpose, and the child be appointed to meet her there. They may easily get her from Portsmouth to town by the coach, under the care of any creditable person.”
Sir Thomas no longer made any objection, and a more respectable, though less economical rendezvous being substituted, everything was considered as settled. But while Sir Thomas was fully resolved to be the patron of the selected child, Mrs. Norris herself had no intention of being at any expense whatever in her maintenance. As far as talk, she was thoroughly benevolent; verily, nobody knew better how to dictate liberality to others. But her love of money was equal to her love of directing—she saved her own and spent that of her friends.