“I do not think him at all handsome.”

“Handsome! Nobody can call such an undersized man handsome. He is not five foot nine. I should not wonder if he is not more than five foot eight. Indeed, he has nothing on that duck; it outweighs him. I think he is an ill-looking fellow. Why, I could probably rip him to shreds in under a minute—Ahem. In my opinion, these Crawfords are no addition at all. We did very well without them.”

A small sigh escaped Fanny here, and she did not know how to contradict him. Indeed, it might not have been a safe thing to do at all, to contradict him, even if she wanted to—not with the growls that were building in the back of his throat. . . .

“If I had made any difficulty about fetching the key, there might have been some excuse. But I went the very moment she said she wanted it.”

“Nothing could be more obliging than your manner, I am sure, and I dare say you walked as fast as you could. But still it is some distance from this spot to the house, and when people are waiting, they are bad judges of time, and every half minute seems like five.”

He got up and walked to the gate again, and “wished he had had the key about him at the time.” Fanny thought she discerned in his standing there an indication of relenting, which encouraged her to another attempt. She said, “It is a pity you should not join them. They expected to have a better view of the house from that part of the park, and will be thinking how it may be improved; and nothing of that sort, you know, can be settled without you.”

She found herself more successful in sending away than in retaining a companion. Mr. Rushworth was convinced. “Well,” said he, “if you really think I had better go: it would be foolish to bring the key for nothing. And if I encounter that fowl on the way—” And letting himself out, he walked off without further ceremony.

Fanny’s thoughts were now all engrossed by the two who had left her so long ago. Getting quite impatient, she resolved to go in search of them. She followed their steps along the bottom walk, when the voice and the laugh of Miss Crawford once more caught her ear. The sound approached, and a few more windings brought them before her.

They were just returned into the wilderness from the park (to which a sidegate, not fastened, had tempted them), and they had been across a portion of the park into the very avenue which Fanny had been hoping the whole morning to reach at last. Sitting down under one of the trees, it was evident that they had been spending their time pleasantly, unaware of the length of their absence.