Fanny’s best consolation was in being assured that Edmund had wished for her very much—he should certainly have come back for her, had she not been tired already. But this was not quite sufficient to do away with the pain of having been left a whole hour, nor to banish the sort of curiosity she felt to know what they had been conversing about all that time. The result of the whole was to her disappointment and depression, as they prepared to return to the house.

On reaching the bottom of the steps to the terrace, Mrs. Rushworth and Mrs. Norris presented themselves at the top, just ready for the wilderness, at the end of an hour and a half from their leaving the house. Mrs. Norris had been too well employed to move faster. Whatever cross-accidents had occurred to intercept the pleasures of her nieces, she had found a morning of complete enjoyment. For the housekeeper, after discussing pheasants, had taken her to the dairy, told her all about their cows, and given her the receipt for a famous cream cheese. Since Julia left them, she had met the gardener, set him right as to his grandson’s illness, convinced him that it was an ague, and promised him a charm for it. He, in return, had shewn her all his choicest nursery of plants, and actually presented her with a very curious specimen of heath.

On this rencontre they all returned to the house together, there to lounge away the time as they could with sofas, and chit-chat, and Quarterly Reviews, till the return of the others, and the arrival of dinner. It was late before the Miss Bertrams and the two gentlemen came in, and their ramble did not appear to have been more than partially agreeable, or at all productive with regard to the object of the day.

By their own accounts they had been all walking after each other, not unlike the fool denizens of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and the junction which had taken place at last seemed, to Fanny’s observation, to be much too late for re-establishing harmony. She felt, as she looked at Julia and Mr. Rushworth, that hers was not the only dissatisfied bosom amongst them: there was gloom on the face of each. Mr. Crawford and Miss Bertram were much more gay, and she thought that he was taking particular pains, during dinner, to do away any little resentment of the other two, and restore general good-humour.

Dinner was soon followed by tea and coffee—a ten miles’ drive home allowed no waste of hours. And from the time of their sitting down to table, it was a quick succession of busy nothings till the carriage came to the door.

Mrs. Norris, having fidgeted about, obtained a few pheasants’ eggs and a cream cheese from the housekeeper, and made abundance of civil speeches to Mrs. Rushworth, was ready to lead the way.