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- Джейн Остен
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- Мэнсфилд Парк
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- Стр. 212/228
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The
family
were
not
consumptive
,
and
she
was
more
inclined
to
hope
than
fear
for
her
cousin
,
except
when
she
thought
of
Miss
Crawford
;
but
Miss
Crawford
gave
her
the
idea
of
being
the
child
of
good
luck
,
and
to
her
selfishness
and
vanity
it
would
be
good
luck
to
have
Edmund
the
only
son
.
Even
in
the
sick
chamber
the
fortunate
Mary
was
not
forgotten
.
Edmund
’
s
letter
had
this
postscript
.
“
On
the
subject
of
my
last
,
I
had
actually
begun
a
letter
when
called
away
by
Tom
’
s
illness
,
but
I
have
now
changed
my
mind
,
and
fear
to
trust
the
influence
of
friends
.
When
Tom
is
better
,
I
shall
go
.
”
Such
was
the
state
of
Mansfield
,
and
so
it
continued
,
with
scarcely
any
change
,
till
Easter
.
A
line
occasionally
added
by
Edmund
to
his
mother
’
s
letter
was
enough
for
Fanny
’
s
information
.
Tom
’
s
amendment
was
alarmingly
slow
.
Easter
came
particularly
late
this
year
,
as
Fanny
had
most
sorrowfully
considered
,
on
first
learning
that
she
had
no
chance
of
leaving
Portsmouth
till
after
it
.
It
came
,
and
she
had
yet
heard
nothing
of
her
return
—
nothing
even
of
the
going
to
London
,
which
was
to
precede
her
return
.
Her
aunt
often
expressed
a
wish
for
her
,
but
there
was
no
notice
,
no
message
from
the
uncle
on
whom
all
depended
.
She
supposed
he
could
not
yet
leave
his
son
,
but
it
was
a
cruel
,
a
terrible
delay
to
her
.
The
end
of
April
was
coming
on
;
it
would
soon
be
almost
three
months
,
instead
of
two
,
that
she
had
been
absent
from
them
all
,
and
that
her
days
had
been
passing
in
a
state
of
penance
,
which
she
loved
them
too
well
to
hope
they
would
thoroughly
understand
;
and
who
could
yet
say
when
there
might
be
leisure
to
think
of
or
fetch
her
?
Her
eagerness
,
her
impatience
,
her
longings
to
be
with
them
,
were
such
as
to
bring
a
line
or
two
of
Cowper
’
s
Tirocinium
for
ever
before
her
.
“
With
what
intense
desire
she
wants
her
home
,
”
was
continually
on
her
tongue
,
as
the
truest
description
of
a
yearning
which
she
could
not
suppose
any
schoolboy
’
s
bosom
to
feel
more
keenly
.
When
she
had
been
coming
to
Portsmouth
,
she
had
loved
to
call
it
her
home
,
had
been
fond
of
saying
that
she
was
going
home
;
the
word
had
been
very
dear
to
her
,
and
so
it
still
was
,
but
it
must
be
applied
to
Mansfield
.
That
was
now
the
home
.
Portsmouth
was
Portsmouth
;
Mansfield
was
home
.
They
had
been
long
so
arranged
in
the
indulgence
of
her
secret
meditations
,
and
nothing
was
more
consolatory
to
her
than
to
find
her
aunt
using
the
same
language
:
“
I
cannot
but
say
I
much
regret
your
being
from
home
at
this
distressing
time
,
so
very
trying
to
my
spirits
.
I
trust
and
hope
,
and
sincerely
wish
you
may
never
be
absent
from
home
so
long
again
,
”
were
most
delightful
sentences
to
her
.
Still
,
however
,
it
was
her
private
regale
.
Delicacy
to
her
parents
made
her
careful
not
to
betray
such
a
preference
of
her
uncle
’
s
house
.
It
was
always
:
“
When
I
go
back
into
Northamptonshire
,
or
when
I
return
to
Mansfield
,
I
shall
do
so
and
so
.
”
For
a
great
while
it
was
so
,
but
at
last
the
longing
grew
stronger
,
it
overthrew
caution
,
and
she
found
herself
talking
of
what
she
should
do
when
she
went
home
before
she
was
aware
.
She
reproached
herself
,
coloured
,
and
looked
fearfully
towards
her
father
and
mother
.
She
need
not
have
been
uneasy
.
There
was
no
sign
of
displeasure
,
or
even
of
hearing
her
.
They
were
perfectly
free
from
any
jealousy
of
Mansfield
.
She
was
as
welcome
to
wish
herself
there
as
to
be
there
.
It
was
sad
to
Fanny
to
lose
all
the
pleasures
of
spring
.
She
had
not
known
before
what
pleasures
she
had
to
lose
in
passing
March
and
April
in
a
town
.
She
had
not
known
before
how
much
the
beginnings
and
progress
of
vegetation
had
delighted
her
.
What
animation
,
both
of
body
and
mind
,
she
had
derived
from
watching
the
advance
of
that
season
which
cannot
,
in
spite
of
its
capriciousness
,
be
unlovely
,
and
seeing
its
increasing
beauties
from
the
earliest
flowers
in
the
warmest
divisions
of
her
aunt
’
s
garden
,
to
the
opening
of
leaves
of
her
uncle
’
s
plantations
,
and
the
glory
of
his
woods
.
To
be
losing
such
pleasures
was
no
trifle
;
to
be
losing
them
,
because
she
was
in
the
midst
of
closeness
and
noise
,
to
have
confinement
,
bad
air
,
bad
smells
,
substituted
for
liberty
,
freshness
,
fragrance
,
and
verdure
,
was
infinitely
worse
:
but
even
these
incitements
to
regret
were
feeble
,
compared
with
what
arose
from
the
conviction
of
being
missed
by
her
best
friends
,
and
the
longing
to
be
useful
to
those
who
were
wanting
her
!
