During the above speech, Miss Owen had set down her tea cup, and walked toward the parlour window overlooking the street, so that she might have a few moments to regulate her thoughts. Truly, I am happy for Miss Price. But I cannot deceive myself—my happiness for her is not the reason why I am so overjoyed I cannot even keep my seat! But why should I rejoice? I am an utter fool! Nothing has changed, not for me. He is free, he is unattached, but what has that to do with me?
She could not resist turning back to her hostess and asking, “Do you know if Mr. Bertram has heard the news?”
“Oh, I should imagine he has got a letter today as well. I expect Fanny has written to her uncle and to all her cousins—dear Maria and Julia and Edmund’s older brother in America. That is another prediction I made to Sir Thomas, by the by, when Fanny came to live with us—he thought there might be some danger of Tom or Edmund falling in love with her—but, as I declared, that was quite impossible, for if they were raised up together, she would never be more to them than a sister. I was proven correct there as well. All in all,” Mrs. Norris concluded, “and considering, especially, she was such an unpromising child, everything has turned out for the best. Certainly she could not expect to do better, and I feared she would do very much worse.”
Miss Owen excused herself soon thereafter, and decided to return to the great house to pass the night there with Mrs. Bellingham. She had much to think upon. Sometimes she allowed her hopes to escape so that she might examine them, then she beat them back and scolded herself. And, being a tender-hearted woman, she found time to think about what poor Miss Price’s childhood must have been, with such an aunt to guide her!
As she canvassed the news with Mrs. Bellingham, she amused herself with thinking of the contrast between Fanny Price’s character as conceived by Mrs. Norris, and as described by Mrs. Bellingham. The latter evidently considered Fanny Price to be something of a saint on earth.
If Portia Owen could have been privy to Fanny’s thoughts at that time, she might have inclined to Mrs. Bellingham’s view, because Fanny was so happy she was in charity with all the world, including her Aunt Norris! Almost saint-like, indeed! Fanny might even have agreed that her present happiness was thanks to Aunt Norris—first, for bringing her to Mansfield and secondly, for driving her away again, for it was then she met Mr. Gibson.
Fanny, as we have seen, had sent out letters to America, to the Far East, to Portsmouth, London, Bristol and Norfolk, and a harvest of love and good wishes flowed back to her, with congratulations to Mr. Gibson and praise of her. As for her own family, none of her relatives and friends opposed the match or were inclined to decry it in any way. Her mother, her brothers and sisters were of course only too delighted. William and Julia were likewise overjoyed at the news. Susan was perhaps the happiest of them all, for she had always suspected Fanny had refused Mr. Gibson on purpose so that she might marry Jacob Miller.
Her brother John’s brief note enclosed a longer letter from Prudence, expressing her fond hope that they might soon become acquainted. Madame Duchesne wrote that she was happy but not surprised, and Fanny could thank her properly later when they met in London. Captain Duchesne expressed his infinite joy at the prospect of seeing two such excellent persons united in matrimony.
Fanny’s uncle Sir Thomas behaved more handsomely than she could have hoped. This came about because he had been carefully reading Mr. Gibson’s account of the tragedy at St. Peter’s field in the newspapers. The old baronet had justice enough to acknowledge that Mr. Gibson expressed his criticisms of the government sensibly and well. Mr. Gibson’s reproaches went no further than the facts would allow. His conclusions were reasonable and candid. He was not a radical like Mr. Hunt, who was crying up the incident as an intentional slaughter, but even the loss of Sam Price did not persuade Mr. Gibson that the authorities intended to murder anyone. He wrote that the tragedy had come about because of folly rather than malice, and was chiefly owing to the irresolution and over-alarm of the magistrates.
Sir Thomas’s appreciation of Mr. Gibson’s genuine merits overcame all of his prior objections to the match, and he wrote a kind and conciliatory letter to Fanny, which she treasured—and wept over a little.
Sir Thomas would have been affronted had anyone suggested his revised opinion had anything to do with Mr. Gibson’s fame or wealth. His daughter Maria, however, did not trouble herself with such nice distinctions. Mr. Gibson, the eminent novelist, was to be her relation! What were her cousins in Bedford Square now, compared to Mr. Gibson? A complete set of his novels now adorned her chimney-piece, and her acquaintance heard frequently of “their cousin, Mr. Gibson,” thereafter.
Fanny delighted in telling Mr. Gibson about the letters of congratulation she received as they went strolling through the streets of Huntingdon on a fine autumn afternoon. “But I shall be married to you long before Richard even receives my letter in Cathay.”
“For years I had no family at all, and now I have something of a superfluity,” Mr. Gibson answered. “You must allow me some time to become accustomed to so many
