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Authors: Lynn Shepherd
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other day, Sir
Thomas— quite ragged and covered with paint from head to toe! I am sure you would have agreed with me—it is time she was taken in hand. I am at your service, sir, whenever you
command me.’
As a general reflection on Julia, Sir Thomas thought nothing could be more unjust, and seeing that his daughter’s tears were about to shew themselves, he tried to turn the conversation,
tried repeatedly before he could succeed, but the volubility of his principal guest came at last to his aid. Mr Rushworth was a great deal too full of his own cares to think of any thing else, or
notice what had passed, and he resumed the subject of improvements in general, and Sotherton in particular, with unimpaired enthusiasm. After a lengthy description of the work he was intending to
undertake—which was all to be done in the very best taste and without a thought for the expense—he returned once more to Compton, which he now appeared to consider owed
all its picturesque new beauty to his having once had a brief conversation on the subject with its owner, more than a twelvemonth before. Mary hardly dared look at her brother, but when she did
have the courage to glance across at him, she found to her surprise that he was deep in conversation with Miss Price. Judging by that young lady’s expression, Henry was doubtless supplying
all the compliments Mr Rushworth had neglected to provide, but Mary wondered at the wisdom of such a proceeding for either party. Miss Price might make use of her brother’s flattery to
console a wounded vanity, and he might profit from such a capital opportunity to advance his own suit, but in neither case could Mary see much good resulting from it, and a glance at Mr Norris
shewed that he was not entirely free from similar apprehensions. Mary could not but agree, though to think of Edmund as agitated by jealousy , was a bitter blow indeed.
Mr Rushworth concluded his discourse with a second and even more lengthy expatiation on the new prospects that had been opened up by the felling of the avenue, and turned in conclusion to Julia,
seemingly unaware that he was only adding to her distress. ‘But if the youngest Miss Bertram is still unpersuaded, and would prefer some blasted tree-trunks to the openness of a fine view,
perhaps a visit to Compton might convince her?’
‘It is a capital idea, Rushworth,’ said Tom quickly, ‘but unhappily Mr Smith is not among our acquaintance, though perhaps Mr Crawford might be able—’
‘Oh! If that is all the difficulty, then you need say no more,’ replied Mr Rushworth in a grand way. ‘Smith is an intimate friend of mine, and that alone will suffice to gain
admittance. It is, what? Ten or twelve miles from Mansfield? Just the distance for a day’s excursion. We may take a cold collation à la rustique , and wander about the
grounds, and altogether enjoy a complete party of pleasure.’
Miss Bertram clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with anticipated enjoyment; even Miss Price smiled her acquiescence, and Sir Thomas was pleased to give his approbation; but the
person for whose benefit the visit had been proposed, remained wholly unmoved. Julia looked first at Henry and then at her father, and then, rising from her chair, she ran out of the room, dashing
her plate to the floor. There was an awkward pause before Lady Bertram rose, and suggested to the ladies that this would be an appropriate time for them to withdraw. Mary wondered if she might
contrive to see Julia, and console her, but not knowing where she might find the girl’s room, she was obliged to hope a member of the family would shew a similar solicitude; though as far as
she could ascertain, no-one slipped away upstairs, either then, or at any other time that evening.
When the ladies attained the drawing-room the subject turned immediately to their visitor. Mr Rushworth was not handsome; no, was Miss Price’s judgment, he was absolutely
plain—small,
Thomas— quite ragged and covered with paint from head to toe! I am sure you would have agreed with me—it is time she was taken in hand. I am at your service, sir, whenever you
command me.’
As a general reflection on Julia, Sir Thomas thought nothing could be more unjust, and seeing that his daughter’s tears were about to shew themselves, he tried to turn the conversation,
tried repeatedly before he could succeed, but the volubility of his principal guest came at last to his aid. Mr Rushworth was a great deal too full of his own cares to think of any thing else, or
notice what had passed, and he resumed the subject of improvements in general, and Sotherton in particular, with unimpaired enthusiasm. After a lengthy description of the work he was intending to
undertake—which was all to be done in the very best taste and without a thought for the expense—he returned once more to Compton, which he now appeared to consider owed
all its picturesque new beauty to his having once had a brief conversation on the subject with its owner, more than a twelvemonth before. Mary hardly dared look at her brother, but when she did
have the courage to glance across at him, she found to her surprise that he was deep in conversation with Miss Price. Judging by that young lady’s expression, Henry was doubtless supplying
all the compliments Mr Rushworth had neglected to provide, but Mary wondered at the wisdom of such a proceeding for either party. Miss Price might make use of her brother’s flattery to
console a wounded vanity, and he might profit from such a capital opportunity to advance his own suit, but in neither case could Mary see much good resulting from it, and a glance at Mr Norris
shewed that he was not entirely free from similar apprehensions. Mary could not but agree, though to think of Edmund as agitated by jealousy , was a bitter blow indeed.
Mr Rushworth concluded his discourse with a second and even more lengthy expatiation on the new prospects that had been opened up by the felling of the avenue, and turned in conclusion to Julia,
seemingly unaware that he was only adding to her distress. ‘But if the youngest Miss Bertram is still unpersuaded, and would prefer some blasted tree-trunks to the openness of a fine view,
perhaps a visit to Compton might convince her?’
‘It is a capital idea, Rushworth,’ said Tom quickly, ‘but unhappily Mr Smith is not among our acquaintance, though perhaps Mr Crawford might be able—’
‘Oh! If that is all the difficulty, then you need say no more,’ replied Mr Rushworth in a grand way. ‘Smith is an intimate friend of mine, and that alone will suffice to gain
admittance. It is, what? Ten or twelve miles from Mansfield? Just the distance for a day’s excursion. We may take a cold collation à la rustique , and wander about the
grounds, and altogether enjoy a complete party of pleasure.’
Miss Bertram clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with anticipated enjoyment; even Miss Price smiled her acquiescence, and Sir Thomas was pleased to give his approbation; but the
person for whose benefit the visit had been proposed, remained wholly unmoved. Julia looked first at Henry and then at her father, and then, rising from her chair, she ran out of the room, dashing
her plate to the floor. There was an awkward pause before Lady Bertram rose, and suggested to the ladies that this would be an appropriate time for them to withdraw. Mary wondered if she might
contrive to see Julia, and console her, but not knowing where she might find the girl’s room, she was obliged to hope a member of the family would shew a similar solicitude; though as far as
she could ascertain, no-one slipped away upstairs, either then, or at any other time that evening.
When the ladies attained the drawing-room the subject turned immediately to their visitor. Mr Rushworth was not handsome; no, was Miss Price’s judgment, he was absolutely
plain—small,
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