Fanny was disposed to think the influence of London very much at war with all respectable attachments.She saw the proof of it in Miss Crawford,as well as in her cousins;her attachment to Edmund had been respectable,the most respectable part of her character,her friendship for herself,had at least been blameless.Where was either sentiment now?It was so long since Fanny had had any letter from her,that she had some reason to think lightly of the friendship which had been so dwelt on.-It was weeks since she had heard any thing of Miss Crawford or of her other connections in town,except through Mansfield,and she was beginning to suppose that she might never know whether Mr Crawford had gone into Norfolk again or not,till they met,and might never hear from his sister any more this spring,when the following letter was received to revive old,and create some new sensations.
Forgive me,my dear Fanny,as soon as you can,for my long silence,and behave as if you could forgive me directly.This is my modest request and expectation,for you are so good,that I depend upon being treated better than I deserve-and I write now to beg an immediate answer.I want to know the state of things at Mansfield Park,and you,no doubt,are perfectly able to give it.One should be a brute not to feel for the distress they are in-and from what I hear,poor Mr Bertram has a bad chance of ultimate recovery.I thought little of his illness at first.I looked upon him as the sort of person to be made a fuss with,and to make a fuss himself in any trifling disorder,and was chiefly concerned for those who had to nurse him;but now it is confidently asserted that he is really in a decline,that the symptoms are most alarming,and that part of the family,at least,are aware of it.If it be so,I am sure you must be included in that part,that discerning part,and therefore entreat you to let me know how far I have been rightly informed.I need not say how rejoiced I shall be to hear there has been any mistake,but the report is so prevalent,that I confess I cannot help trembling.To have such a fine young man cut off in the flower of his days,is most melancholy.Poor Sir Thomas will feel it dreadfully.I really am quite agitated on the subject.Fanny,Fanny,I see you smile,and look cunning,but upon my honour,I never bribed a physician in my life.Poor young man!-If he is to die,there will be two poor young men less in the world;and with a fearless face and bold voice would I say to anyone,that wealth and consequence could fall into no hands more deserving of them.It was a foolish precipitation last Christmas,but the evil of a few days may be blotted out in part.Varnish and gilding hide many stains.It will be but the loss of the Esquire after his name.With real affection,Fanny,like mine,more might be overlooked.Write to me by return of post,judge of my anxiety,and do not trifle with it.Tell me the real truth,as you have it from the fountainhead.And now,do not trouble yourself to be ashamed of either my feelings or your own.Believe me,they are not only natural,they are philanthropic and virtuous.I put it to your conscience,whether ‘Sir Edmund’would not do more good with all the Bertram property,than any other possible ‘Sir’.Had the Grants been at home,I would not have troubled you,but you are now the only one I can apply to for the truth,his sisters not being within my reach.Mrs R.has been spending the Easter with the Aylmers at Twickenham (as to be sure you know)and is not yet returned;and Julia is with the cousins,who live near Bedford Square;but I forgot their name and street.Could I immediately apply to either,however,I should still prefer you,because it strikes me,that they have all along been so unwilling to have their own amusements cut up,as to shut their eyes to the truth.I suppose,Mrs R.'s Easter holidays will not last much longer;no doubt they are thorough holidays to her.The Aylmers are pleasant people;and her husband away,she can have nothing but enjoyment.I give her credit for promoting his going dutifully down to Bath,to fetch his mother;but how will she and the dowager agree in one house?Henry is not at hand,so I have nothing to say from him.Do not you think Edmund would have been in town again long ago,but for this illness?
Yours ever,
Mary.
I had actually began folding my letter,when Henry walked in;but he brings no intelligence to prevent my sending it.Mrs R.knows a decline is apprehended;he saw her this morning,she returns to Wimpole Street today,the old lady is come.Now do not make yourself uneasy with any queer fancies,because he has been spending a few days at Richmond.He does it every spring.Be assured,he cares for nobody but you.At this very moment,he is wild to see you,and occupied only in contriving the means for doing so,and for making his pleasure conduce to yours.In proof,he repeats,and more eagerly,what he said at Portsmouth,about our conveying you home,and I join him in it with all my soul.Dear Fanny,write directly,and tell us to come.It will do us all good.He and I can go to the Parsonage,you know,and be no trouble to our friends at Mansfield Park.It would really be gratifying to see them all again,and a little addition of society might be of infinite use to them;and,as to yourself,you must feel yourself to be so wanted there,that you cannot in conscience (conscientious as you are)keep away,when you have the means of returning.I have not time or patience to give half Henry's messages;be satisfied,that the spirit of each and every one is unalterable affection.
