apologies for his father's
particularity, what was to be expected. Mr. Yates felt it as acutely as
might be supposed. To be a second time disappointed in the same way was
an instance of very severe ill-luck; and his indignation was such,
that had it not been for delicacy towards his friend, and his friend's
youngest sister, he believed he should certainly attack the baronet
on the absurdity of his proceedings, and argue him into a little more
rationality. He believed this very stoutly while he was in Mansfield
Wood, and all the way home; but there was a something in Sir Thomas,
when they sat round the same table, which made Mr. Yates think it
wiser to let him pursue his own way, and feel the folly of it without
opposition. He had known many disagreeable fathers before, and often
been struck with the inconveniences they occasioned, but never, in
the whole course of his life, had he seen one of that class so
unintelligibly moral, so infamously tyrannical as Sir Thomas. He was
not a man to be endured but for his children's sake, and he might be
thankful to his fair daughter Julia that Mr. Yates did yet mean to stay
a few days longer under his roof.

The evening passed with external smoothness, though almost every
mind was ruffled; and the music which Sir Thomas called for from his
daughters helped to conceal the want of real harmony. Maria was in a
good deal of agitation. It was of the utmost consequence to her that
Crawford should now lose no time in declaring himself, and she was
disturbed that even a day should be gone by without seeming to advance
that point. She had been expecting to see him the whole morning, and
all the evening, too, was still expecting him. Mr. Rushworth had set off
early with the great news for Sotherton; and she had fondly hoped for
such an immediate _eclaircissement_ as might save him the trouble of
ever coming back again. But they had seen no one from the Parsonage,
not a creature, and had heard no tidings beyond a friendly note of
congratulation and inquiry from Mrs. Grant to Lady Bertram. It was the
first day for many, many weeks, in which the families had been wholly
divided. Four-and-twenty hours had never passed before, since August
began, without bringing them together in some way or other. It was a
sad, anxious day; and the morrow, though differing in the sort of evil,
did by no means bring less. A few moments of feverish enjoyment were
followed by hours of acute suffering. Henry Crawfo