It was a busy morning with him.Conversation with any of them occupied but a small part of it.He had to reinstate himself in all the wonted concerns of his Mansfield life,to see his steward and his bailiff-to examine and compute-and,in the intervals of business,to walk into his stables and his gardens,and nearest plantations;but active and methodical,he had not only done all this before he resumed his seat as master of the house at dinner,he had also set the carpenter to work in pulling down what had been so lately put up in the billiard room,and given the scene painter his dismissal,long enough to justify the pleasing belief of his being then at least as far off as Northampton.The scene painter was gone,having spoilt only the floor of one room,ruined all the coachman's sponges,and made five of the under-servants idle and dissatisfied;and Sir Thomas was in hopes that another day or two would suffice to wipe away every outward memento of what had been,even to the destruction of every unbound copy of Lovers'Vows in the house,for he was burning all that met his eye.
Mr Yates was beginning now to understand Sir Thomas's intentions,though as far as ever from understanding their source.He and his friend had been out with their guns the chief of the morning,and Tom had taken the opportunity of explaining,with proper 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 Crawford was again in the house;he walked up with Dr Grant,who was anxious to pay his respects to Sir Thomas,and at rather an early hour they were ushered into the breakfast room,where were most of the family.Sir Thomas soon appeared,and Maria saw with delight and agitation the introduction of the man she loved to her father.Her sensations were indefinable,and so were they a few minutes afterwards upon hearing Henry Crawford,who had a chair between herself and Tom,ask the latter in an under voice,whether there were any plan for resuming the play after the present happy interruption (with a courteous glance at Sir Thomas),because in that case,he should make a point of returning to Mansfield,at any time required by the party;he was going away immediately,being to meet his uncle at Bath without delay,but if there were any prospect of a renewal of Lovers'Vows,he should hold himself positively engaged,he should break through every other claim,he should absolutely condition with his uncle for attending them whenever he might be wanted.The play should not be lost by his absence.
‘From Bath,Norfolk,London,York-wherever I may be,’said he,‘I will attend you from any place in England,at an hour's notice.’
It was well at that moment that Tom had to speak and not his sister.He could immediately say with easy fluency,‘I am sorry you are going-but as to our play,that is all over-entirely at an end’(looking significantly at his father).The painter was sent off yesterday,and very little will remain of the theatre tomorrow.-I knew how that would be from the first.-It is early for Bath.-You will find nobody there.’
‘It is about my uncle's usual time.’
‘When do you think of going?’
‘I may perhaps get as far as Banbury today.’
‘Whose stables do you use at Bath?’was the next question;and while this branch of the subject was under discussion,Maria,who wanted neither pride nor resolution,was preparing to encounter her share of it with tolerable calmness.
