She listened, and at length she heard voices and feet approaching; but she had just satisfied herself that it was not those she wanted, when Miss Bertram, Mr. Rushworth, and Mr. Crawford issued from the same path which she had trod herself, and were before her.

“Miss Price all alone” and “My dear Fanny, how comes this?” were the first salutations. She told her story. “Poor dear Fanny,” cried her cousin, “how ill you have been used by them! You had better have staid with us.”

Fanny wanted to say she felt as though she had staid with them indeed, considering how much involvement Mr. Rushworth had shewn with the countryside, but kindly refrained.

Then seating herself with a gentleman on each side, Maria resumed the conversation which had engaged them before, and discussed the possibility of improvements with much animation. Nothing was fixed on; but Henry Crawford was full of ideas and projects, and, generally speaking, whatever he proposed was immediately approved, first by her, and then by Mr. Rushworth, whose principal business seemed to be to hear the others, the sounds of wildlife in the trees all around, and who scarcely risked an original thought of his own.

After some minutes spent in this way, Miss Bertram, observing the iron gate, expressed a wish of passing through it into the park. It was the very thing of all others to be wished, the best, the only way of proceeding with any advantage, in Henry Crawford’s opinion. And he directly saw a knoll not half a mile off, which would give them exactly the requisite command of the house. Go therefore they must to that knoll, and through that gate; but the gate was locked.

Mr. Rushworth growled to himself, wished he had brought the key. He had been very near thinking to bring the key; he was determined he would never come without the key again. But still this did not remove the present evil. They could not get through. And as Miss Bertram’s inclination did not lessen, it ended in Mr. Rushworth’s declaring outright that he would go and fetch the key. He set off accordingly, with a distinctive amount of wheezing and an occasional howl, followed by “Oh, blimey!”

“It is undoubtedly the best thing we can do now, as we are so far from the house already,” said Mr. Crawford, when he was gone. “I dare say, what an unusual gentleman our excellent host is. Rather exuberant, shall we say.”

Fanny coughed.

“Yes, there is nothing else to be done. But now, sincerely, do not you find the place worse than you expected?”

“No, indeed, far otherwise. I find it better, grander, more complete in its style, though that style may not be the best. And to tell you the truth,” speaking rather lower, “I do not think that I shall ever see Sotherton again with so much pleasure as I do now. Another summer will hardly improve it to me.”