e
as you."

Fanny had indeed nothing to convey from aunt Norris, but a message to
say she hoped that her god-daughter was a good girl, and learnt her
book. There had been at one moment a slight murmur in the drawing-room
at Mansfield Park about sending her a prayer-book; but no second sound
had been heard of such a purpose. Mrs. Norris, however, had gone home
and taken down two old prayer-books of her husband with that idea; but,
upon examination, the ardour of generosity went off. One was found
to have too small a print for a child's eyes, and the other to be too
cumbersome for her to carry about.

Fanny, fatigued and fatigued again, was thankful to accept the first
invitation of going to bed; and before Betsey had finished her cry at
being allowed to sit up only one hour extraordinary in honour of sister,
she was off, leaving all below in confusion and noise again; the boys
begging for toasted cheese, her father calling out for his rum and
water, and Rebecca never where she ought to be.

There was nothing to raise her spirits in the confined and scantily
furnished chamber that she was to share with Susan. The smallness of
the rooms above and below, indeed, and the narrowness of the passage and
staircase, struck her beyond her imagination. She soon learned to think
with respect of her own little attic at Mansfield Park, in _that_ house
reckoned too small for anybody's comfort.

CHAPTER XXXIX

Could Sir Thomas have seen all his niece's feelings, when she wrote her
first letter to her aunt, he would not have despaired; for though a good
night's rest, a pleasant morning, the hope of soon seeing William again,
and the comparatively quiet state of the house, from Tom and Charles
being gone to school, Sam on some project of his own, and her father
on his usual lounges, enabled her to express herself cheerfully on the
subject of home, there were still, to her own perfect consciousness,
many drawbacks suppressed. Could he have seen only half that she felt
before the end of a week, he would have thought Mr. Crawford sure of
her, and been delighted with his own sagacity.

Before the week ended, it was all disappointment. In the first place,
William was gone. The Thrush had had her orders, the wind had changed,
and he was sailed within four days from their reaching Portsmouth; and
during those days she had seen him only twice, in a short and
hurried way, when he had come ashore on duty. There had been no free
conversa