“That is Miss Maria’s concern. I am not obliged to punish myself for her sins. The mother I could not avoid, as long as my beastly tiresome aunt was dancing about with the housekeeper, but the son I can get away from—fortune has it, I am not a squirrel.”

And Julia immediately scrambled across the fence (rather making Fanny wonder about the squirrel part), and walked away, not attending to Fanny’s last question of whether she had seen anything of Miss Crawford and Edmund.

The sort of dread in which Fanny now sat of seeing Mr. Rushworth prevented her thinking so much of their continued absence. She felt that he had been very ill-used, and was quite unhappy in having to communicate what had passed. He joined her within five minutes after Julia’s exit. And though she made the best of the story, he was evidently mortified and displeased. At first he scarcely said anything. Only his looks expressed his extreme surprise and vexation, and he walked to the gate and stood there, without seeming to know what to do.

“They desired me to stay—my cousin Maria charged me to say that you would find them at that knoll, or thereabouts.”

“I do not believe I shall go any farther,” said he sullenly; “I see nothing of them. By the time I get to the knoll they may be gone somewhere else. I have had walking enough. And for a moment or two I thought I had finally caught sight of that infernal duck. But no, it was nothing of the kind.”

And he sat down with a most gloomy countenance by Fanny.

“I am very sorry,” said she; “it is very unlucky. As for that fowl, I dare say you ought to be careful, for the duck—if it is indeed the same exact creature from Brighton as had menaced Lady Bertram—that one was rather elusive and unpredictable, as you could imagine from seeing it earlier today. I recommend you be on your guard, sir.” And she longed to be able to say something more to the purpose, but there was genuinely nothing to add on either subject.

“Oh, with that accursed fowl, never you fear on my behalf, Miss Price,” said Mr. Rushworth with a scowl of vengeance, “I can handle it. I dare say, it will be destroyed by tomorrow, I can promise you that. And it will not be pretty.”

Fanny really had even less to add to that.

After an interval of silence, “I think they might as well have staid for me,” said he.

“Miss Bertram thought you would follow her.”

“I should not have had to follow her if she had staid.”

This could not be denied, and Fanny was silenced. After another pause, he went on—“Pray, Miss Price, are you such a great admirer of this Mr. Crawford as some people are? For my part, I can see nothing in him.”