comes for you?"

"I do not know. I have heard nothing about it yet from my aunt. Perhaps
I may be to stay longer. It may not be convenient for me to be fetched
exactly at the two months' end."

After a moment's reflection, Mr. Crawford replied, "I know Mansfield, I
know its way, I know its faults towards _you_. I know the danger of
your being so far forgotten, as to have your comforts give way to the
imaginary convenience of any single being in the family. I am aware
that you may be left here week after week, if Sir Thomas cannot settle
everything for coming himself, or sending your aunt's maid for you,
without involving the slightest alteration of the arrangements which he
may have laid down for the next quarter of a year. This will not do. Two
months is an ample allowance; I should think six weeks quite enough.
I am considering your sister's health," said he, addressing himself to
Susan, "which I think the confinement of Portsmouth unfavourable to. She
requires constant air and exercise. When you know her as well as I do,
I am sure you will agree that she does, and that she ought never to
be long banished from the free air and liberty of the country. If,
therefore" (turning again to Fanny), "you find yourself growing unwell,
and any difficulties arise about your returning to Mansfield, without
waiting for the two months to be ended, _that_ must not be regarded
as of any consequence, if you feel yourself at all less strong or
comfortable than usual, and will only let my sister know it, give her
only the slightest hint, she and I will immediately come down, and take
you back to Mansfield. You know the ease and the pleasure with which
this would be done. You know all that would be felt on the occasion."

Fanny thanked him, but tried to laugh it off.

"I am perfectly serious," he replied, "as you perfectly know. And I
hope you will not be cruelly concealing any tendency to indisposition.
Indeed, you shall _not_; it shall not be in your power; for so long only
as you positively say, in every letter to Mary, 'I am well,' and I
know you cannot speak or write a falsehood, so long only shall you be
considered as well."

Fanny thanked him again, but was affected and distressed to a degree
that made it impossible for her to say much, or even to be certain of
what she ought to say. This was towards the close of their walk. He
attended them to the last, and left them only at the door of their own
house, when he knew them to