CHAPTER XXI 

Sir Thomas's return made a striking change in the ways of the family, independent of Lovers' Vows. Under his government, Mansfield was an altered place. Some members of their society sent away, and the spirits of many others saddened-- it was all sameness and gloom compared with the past-- a sombre family party rarely enlivened. There was little intercourse with the Parsonage. Sir Thomas, drawing back from intimacies in general, was particularly disinclined, at this time, for any engagements but in one quarter. The Rushworths were the only addition to his own domestic circle which he could solicit. 

Edmund did not wonder that such should be his father's feelings, nor could he regret anything but the exclusion of the Grants. "But they," he observed to Fanny, "have a claim. They seem to belong to us; they seem to be part of ourselves. I could wish my father were more sensible of their very great attention to my mother and sisters while he was away. I am afraid they may feel themselves neglected. But the truth is, that my father hardly knows them. They had not been here a twelvemonth when he left England. If he knew them better, he would value their society as it deserves; for they are in fact exactly the sort of people he would like. We are sometimes a little in want of animation among ourselves: my sisters seem out of spirits, and Tom is certainly not at his ease. Dr. and Mrs. Grant would enliven us, and make our evenings pass away with more enjoyment even to my father." 

"Do you think so?" said Fanny: "in my opinion, my uncle would not like _any_ addition. I think he values the very quietness you speak of, and that the repose of his own family circle is all he wants. And it does not appear to me that we are more serious than we used to be--I mean before my uncle went abroad. As well as I can recollect, it was always much the same. There was never much laughing in his presence; or, if there is any difference, it is not more, I think, than such an absence has a tendency to produce at first. There must be a sort of shyness; but I cannot recollect that our evenings formerly were ever merry, except when my uncle was in town. No young people's are, I suppose, when those they look up to are at home". 

"I believe you are right, Fanny," was his reply, after a short consideration. "I believe our evenings are rather returned to what they were, than assuming a new character. The novelty was in their being lively. Yet, how strong the impression that only a few weeks will give! I have been feeling as if we had never lived so before." 

"I suppose I am graver than other people," said Fanny. "The evenings do not appear long to me. I love to hear my uncle talk of the West Indies. I could listen to him for an hour together. It entertains _me_ more than many other things have done; but then I am unlike other people, I dare say." 

"Why should you dare say _that_?" (smiling). "Do you want to be told that you are only unlike other people in being more wise and discreet? But when did you, or anybody, ever get a compliment from me, Fanny? Go to my father if you want to be complimented. He will satisfy you. Ask your uncle what he thinks, and you will hear compliments enough: and though they may be chiefly on your person, you must put up with it, and trust to his seeing as much beauty of mind in time." 

Such language was so new to Fanny that it quite embarrassed her. 

"Your uncle thinks you very pretty, dear Fanny-- and that is the long and the short of the matter. Anybody but myself would have made something more of it, and anybody but you would resent that you had not been thought very pretty before; but the truth is, that your uncle never did admire you till now--and now he does. Your complexion is so improved!--and you have gained so much countenance!--and your figure--nay, Fanny, do not turn away about it--it is but an uncle. If you cannot bear an uncle's admiration, what is to become of you? You must really begin to harden yourself to the idea of being worth looking at. You must try not to mind growing up into a pretty woman." 

"Oh! don't talk so, don't talk so," cried Fanny, distressed by more feelings than he was aware of; but seeing that she was distressed, he had done with the subject, and only added more seriously-- 

"Your uncle is disposed to be pleased with you in every respect; and I only wish you would talk to him more. You are one of those who are too silent in the evening circle." 

"But I do talk to him more than I used. I am sure I do. Did not you hear me ask him about the slave-trade last night?" 

"I did--and was in hopes the question would be followed up by others. It would have pleased your uncle to be inquired of farther." 

"And I longed to do it--but there was such a dead silence! And while my cousins were sitting by without speaking a word, or seeming at all interested in the subject, I did not like-- I thought it would appear as if I wanted to set myself off at their expense, by shewing a curiosity and pleasure in his information which he must wish his own daughters to feel." 

"Miss Crawford was very right in what she said of you the other day: that you seemed almost as fearful of notice and praise as other women were of neglect. We were talking of you at the Parsonage, and those were her words. She has great discernment. I know nobody who distinguishes characters better. For so young a woman it is remarkable! She certainly understands _you_ better than you are understood by the greater part of those who have known you so long; and with regard to some others, I can perceive, from occasional lively hints, the unguarded expressions of the moment, that she could define _many_ as accurately, did not delicacy forbid it. I wonder what she thinks of my father! She must admire him as a fine-looking man, with most gentlemanlike, dignified, consistent manners; but perhaps, having seen him so seldom, his reserve may be a little repulsive. Could they be much together, I feel sure of their liking each other. He would enjoy her liveliness and she has talents to value his powers. I wish they met more frequently! I hope she does not suppose there is any dislike on his side." 

"She must know herself too secure of the regard of all the rest of you," said Fanny, with half a sigh, "to have any such apprehension. And Sir Thomas's wishing just at first to be only with his family, is so very natural, that she can argue nothing from that. After a little while, I dare say, we shall be meeting again in the same sort of way, allowing for the difference of the time of year." 

"This is the first October that she has passed in the country since her infancy. I do not call Tunbridge or Cheltenham the country; and November is a still more serious month, and I can see that Mrs. Grant is very anxious for her not finding Mansfield dull as winter comes on." 

Fanny could have said a great deal, but it was safer to say nothing, and leave untouched all Miss Crawford's resources-- her accomplishments, her spirits, her importance, her friends, lest it should betray her into any observations seemingly unhandsome. Miss Crawford's kind opinion of herself deserved at least a grateful forbearance, and she began to talk of something else. 

"To-morrow, I think, my uncle dines at Sotherton, and you and Mr. Bertram too. We shall be quite a small party at home. I hope my uncle may continue to like Mr. Rushworth." 

"That is impossible, Fanny. He must like him less after to-morrow's visit, for we shall be five hours in his company. I should dread the stupidity of the day, if there were not a much greater evil to follow-- the impression it must leave on Sir Thomas. He cannot much longer deceive himself. I am sorry for them all, and would give something that Rushworth and Maria had never met." 

In this quarter, indeed, disappointment was impending over Sir Thomas. Not all his good-will for Mr. Rushworth, not all Mr. Rushworth's deference for him, could prevent him from soon discerning some part of the truth-- that Mr. Rushworth was an inferior young man, as ignorant in business as in books, with opinions in general unfixed, and without seeming much aware of it himself. 

He had expected a very different son-in-law; and beginning to feel grave on Maria's account, tried to understand _her_ feelings. Little observation there was necessary to tell him that indifference was the most favourable state they could be in. Her behaviour to Mr. Rushworth was careless and cold. She could not, did not like him. Sir Thomas resolved to speak seriously to her. Advantageous as would be the alliance, and long standing and public as was the engagement, her happiness must not be sacrificed to it. Mr. Rushworth had, perhaps, been accepted on too short an acquaintance, and, on knowing him better, she was repenting. 

With solemn kindness Sir Thomas addressed her: told her his fears, inquired into her wishes, entreated her to be open and sincere, and assured her that every inconvenience should be braved, and the connexion entirely given up, if she felt herself unhappy in the prospect of it. He would act for her and release her. Maria had a moment's struggle as she listened, and only a moment's: when her father ceased, she was able to give her answer immediately, decidedly, and with no apparent agitation. She thanked him for his great attention, his paternal kindness, but he was quite mistaken in supposing she had the smallest desire of breaking through her engagement, or was sensible of any change of opinion or inclination since her forming it. She had the highest esteem for Mr. Rushworth's character and disposition, and could not have a doubt of her happiness with him. 

Sir Thomas was satisfied; too glad to be satisfied, perhaps, to urge the matter quite so far as his judgment might have dictated to others. It was an alliance which he could not have relinquished without pain; and thus he reasoned. Mr. Rushworth was young enough to improve. Mr. Rushworth must and would improve in good society; and if Maria could now speak so securely of her happiness with him, speaking certainly without the prejudice, the blindness of love, she ought to be believed. Her feelings, probably, were not acute; he had never supposed them to be so; but her comforts might not be less on that account; and if she could dispense with seeing her husband a leading, shining character, there would certainly be everything else in her favour. A well-disposed young woman, who did not marry for love, was in general but the more attached to her own family; and the nearness of Sotherton to Mansfield must naturally hold out the greatest temptation, and would, in all probability, be a continual supply of the most amiable and innocent enjoyments. Such and such-like were the reasonings of Sir Thomas, happy to escape the embarrassing evils of a rupture, the wonder, the reflections, the reproach that must attend it; happy to secure a marriage which would bring him such an addition of respectability and influence, and very happy to think anything of his daughter's disposition that was most favourable for the purpose. 

To her the conference closed as satisfactorily as to him. She was in a state of mind to be glad that she had secured her fate beyond recall: that she had pledged herself anew to Sotherton; that she was safe from the possibility of giving Crawford the triumph of governing her actions, and destroying her prospects; and retired in proud resolve, determined only to behave more cautiously to Mr. Rushworth in future, that her father might not be again suspecting her. 

Had Sir Thomas applied to his daughter within the first three or four days after Henry Crawford's leaving Mansfield, before her feelings were at all tranquillised, before she had given up every hope of him, or absolutely resolved on enduring his rival, her answer might have been different; but after another three or four days, when there was no return, no letter, no message, no symptom of a softened heart, no hope of advantage from separation, her mind became cool enough to seek all the comfort that pride and self revenge could give. 

Henry Crawford had destroyed her happiness, but he should not know that he had done it; he should not destroy her credit, her appearance, her prosperity, too. He should not have to think of her as pining in the retirement of Mansfield for _him_, rejecting Sotherton and London, independence and splendour, for _his_ sake. Independence was more needful than ever; the want of it at Mansfield more sensibly felt. She was less and less able to endure the restraint which her father imposed. The liberty which his absence had given was now become absolutely necessary. She must escape from him and Mansfield as soon as possible, and find consolation in fortune and consequence, bustle and the world, for a wounded spirit. Her mind was quite determined, and varied not. 

To such feelings delay, even the delay of much preparation, would have been an evil, and Mr. Rushworth could hardly be more impatient for the marriage than herself. In all the important preparations of the mind she was complete: being prepared for matrimony by an hatred of home, restraint, and tranquillity; by the misery of disappointed affection, and contempt of the man she was to marry. The rest might wait. The preparations of new carriages and furniture might wait for London and spring, when her own taste could have fairer play. 

The principals being all agreed in this respect, it soon appeared that a very few weeks would be sufficient for such arrangements as must precede the wedding. 

Mrs. Rushworth was quite ready to retire, and make way for the fortunate young woman whom her dear son had selected; and very early in November removed herself, her maid, her footman, and her chariot, with true dowager propriety, to Bath, there to parade over the wonders of Sotherton in her evening parties; enjoying them as thoroughly, perhaps, in the animation of a card-table, as she had ever done on the spot; and before the middle of the same month the ceremony had taken place which gave Sotherton another mistress. 

It was a very proper wedding. The bride was elegantly dressed; the two bridesmaids were duly inferior; her father gave her away; her mother stood with salts in her hand, expecting to be agitated; her aunt tried to cry; and the service was impressively read by Dr. Grant. Nothing could be objected to when it came under the discussion of the neighbourhood, except that the carriage which conveyed the bride and bridegroom and Julia from the church-door to Sotherton was the same chaise which Mr. Rushworth had used for a twelvemonth before. In everything else the etiquette of the day might stand the strictest investigation. 

It was done, and they were gone. Sir Thomas felt as an anxious father must feel, and was indeed experiencing much of the agitation which his wife had been apprehensive of for herself, but had fortunately escaped. Mrs. Norris, most happy to assist in the duties of the day, by spending it at the Park to support her sister's spirits, and drinking the health of Mr. and Mrs. Rushworth in a supernumerary glass or two, was all joyous delight; for she had made the match; she had done everything; and no one would have supposed, from her confident triumph, that she had ever heard of conjugal infelicity in her life, or could have the smallest insight into the disposition of the niece who had been brought up under her eye. 

The plan of the young couple was to proceed, after a few days, to Brighton, and take a house there for some weeks. Every public place was new to Maria, and Brighton is almost as gay in winter as in summer. When the novelty of amusement there was over, it would be time for the wider range of London. 

Julia was to go with them to Brighton. Since rivalry between the sisters had ceased, they had been gradually recovering much of their former good understanding; and were at least sufficiently friends to make each of them exceedingly glad to be with the other at such a time. Some other companion than Mr. Rushworth was of the first consequence to his lady; and Julia was quite as eager for novelty and pleasure as Maria, though she might not have struggled through so much to obtain them, and could better bear a subordinate situation. 

Their departure made another material change at Mansfield, a chasm which required some time to fill up. The family circle became greatly contracted; and though the Miss Bertrams had latterly added little to its gaiety, they could not but be missed. Even their mother missed them; and how much more their tenderhearted cousin, who wandered about the house, and thought of them, and felt for them, with a degree of affectionate regret which they had never done much to deserve!

第二卷 第三章

托马斯爵士回来不仅使《山盟海誓》停演，而且使家里的风气发生了显著的变化。在他的掌管下，曼斯菲尔德完全变了样。他们这个小团体中，有的人被打发走了，另外有不少人情绪低落，与过去相比，到处千篇一律，一片沉闷。一家人在一起总是板着面孔，很少有喜笑颜开的时候。跟牧师住宅的人已不怎么来往。托马斯爵士一般不愿跟人保持密切关系，眼下尤其不愿跟任何人交往，但有一个例外。他只想让他的家人跟拉什沃思一家人来往。

埃德蒙对父亲的这种情绪并不感到奇怪，他也没有什么可遗憾的，只是觉得不该把格兰特一家人排斥在外。他对范妮说：“他们是有权利跟我们来往的。他们好像是我们自己的人——好像是我们的一部分。但愿父亲能意识到他不在家期间他们对母亲和妹妹们如何关怀备至。我担心他们会觉得自己受到了冷落。其实，父亲不怎么了解他们。他们来这儿还不到一年，父亲就离开了英国。他要是对他们多了解一些，就会赞成和他们来往的，因为他们正是他所喜欢的那种人。我们一家人之间有时缺乏点生气，两个妹妹似乎无精打采，汤姆当然也心神不定。格兰特博士和格兰特太太会给我们带来生气，使我们晚上的时光过得更加愉快，甚至让父亲也感到愉快。”

“你这样想吗？”范妮说。“依我看，姨父不喜欢任何外人掺和进来。我认为他看重你所说的安静，他只希望他自家的小圈子能过着安安静静的生活。我觉得我们并不比过去还要呆板——我是说比姨父到海外以前。根据我的记忆，一直都是这样的。姨父在家的时候，从来没有人大说大笑过。如果说现在有什么不同的话，我想那只是他长期不在家刚刚回来引起的。肯定有些怯生。不过我记得，以前除非姨父去了伦敦，我们晚上也不是快快乐乐的。我想，只要有大家敬仰的人在家，年轻人晚上没有快快乐乐的。”

“我想你说得对，范妮，”埃德蒙想了想后回道。“我想我们晚上又回复到了以前的样子，而不是呈现出新面貌。前一段的新奇就在于晚上比较活跃。然而，仅仅几个星期却给人留下多么深刻的印象啊！我觉得好像我们以前从没这么生活过。”

“我想我比别人都古板，”范妮说。“我不觉得晚上的时间难熬。我喜欢听姨父讲西印度群岛的事。我可以一连听他讲上一个小时。这比许多别的事都更让我快乐——不过，我想我跟别人不一样。”

“你怎么竟然说这话？（一边笑笑）你是不是想让我告诉你，你跟别人不一样的地方，只在于你比别人更聪明、更稳重呢？不过，范妮，你也好，别人也好，什么时候听到过我的恭维？你要是想听恭维话，那就去找我父亲，他会满足你的。只要问你姨父怎么看你，你就会听到许多恭维话。虽说主要是对你外表的恭维，你还必须听进去，相信他迟早会看出你的内心同样美。”

范妮是第一次听到这样的语言，感到十分尴尬。

“你姨父觉得你很漂亮，亲爱的范妮——情况就是如此。除了我之外，谁都会为之大惊小怪；除了你之外，谁都会因为以前没人认为自己很漂亮而生气。实际上，你姨父以前从不觉得你好看——现在觉得你好看了。你的脸色比以前好多了！容貌也漂亮多了！还有你的身材——别，范妮，不要不好意思——不过是姨父嘛。连姨父的赞赏都受不了，那你怎么办呀？你还真得学得大方一些，觉得自己值得别人看。不要在意自己长成了一个漂亮的女人。”

“噢！不要这么说，不要这么说，”范妮嚷道。埃德蒙体会不到她满腹的苦衷，但是见她不高兴，便打住了这个话题，只是一本正经地加了两句：“你姨父各方面都很喜欢你，但愿你能多和他说说话。我们晚上在一起的时候，有的人说话太少，你是其中的一个。”

“可我跟他比以前话多了。我相信比以前多。昨天晚上你没听见我向他打听贩卖奴隶的事吗？”

“听见了——我还希望你问了这个问题再接着问些别的问题。要是能进一步问下去，你姨父才会高兴呢。”

“我是想问下去的——可大家都默不做声啊！表哥表姐坐在旁边一言不发，好像对这个问题丝毫不感兴趣，我也就不想问了——姨父肯定希望自己的女儿想听他的消息，我要是对他的消息好奇、感兴趣，我就怕别人觉得我想抬高自己，贬低表姐。”

“克劳福德小姐那天说到你，她的话说得一点不错——别的女人唯恐受人冷落，而你好像就怕别人注意自己、夸奖自己。我们是在牧师住宅谈到你的，这是她的原话。她很有眼力。我认识的人中，谁也没有她看人看得准。这么年轻就这么有眼力，真了不起呀！比起跟你相识这么久的大多数人来，她当然更了解你啦。至于对另外一些人，从她偶尔一时高兴给我的暗示，或是一时说漏嘴的话中，我发现如果不是有所顾忌的话，她会同样准确地说出许多人的性格特点。我真想知道她是怎么看我父亲的！她肯定会赞赏他，觉得他相貌堂堂，仪态严正，总是文质彬彬，很有绅士风度。不过，由于相见的机会不多，也许对他的矜持寡言有点反感。他们要是能有更多的机会在一起，我相信他们会相互喜欢的。父亲会喜欢她性情活泼——而她有眼力，会敬重父亲的才干。他们要是能经常见面该有多好啊！希望她不要以为父亲不喜欢她。”

“她肯定知道你们其他人都很器重她，”范妮有点哀叹地说，“不会有这样的疑虑。托马斯爵士因为刚从海外回来，只想和自家人多聚聚，这是很自然的事，她不会有什么怨言。过一阵之后，我想我们又会像以前那样见面了，只不过那时换了季节。”

“她长这么大，这还是她在乡下过的第一个10月。我认为顿桥和切尔滕纳姆还算不上乡下。11月景色就更加萧条了。我看得出，随着冬天的到来，格兰特太太就怕她觉得曼斯菲尔德单调乏味。”

范妮本来还有许多话要说，但觉得最好还是什么也不说，不去议论克劳福德小姐的聪明才智、多才多艺、性情活泼、受人器重以及她的朋友们，免得哪句话说得不当显得自己没有气量。再说克劳福德小姐对她看法不错，即使出于感激也应大度一些，于是她谈起了别的事情。

“我想明天姨父要到索瑟顿去赴宴，你和伯特伦先生也要去，家里就没有几个人了。希望姨父对拉什沃思先生继续喜欢下去。”

“这不可能，范妮。明天见面之后，我父亲就不会那么喜欢他了，因为他要陪我们五个小时。我担心这一天会过得枯燥无聊，更怕出什么大问题——给托马斯爵士留下不好的印象。他不会长久地自我欺骗下去。我为他们感到遗憾，当初拉什沃思和玛丽亚就不该认识。”

在这方面，托马斯爵士确实即将感到失望。尽管他想善待拉什沃思先生，而拉什沃思先生又很敬重他，但他还是很快便看出了几分真情——拉什沃思先生是个低能的青年，既没有书本知识，也不会办实事，对什么都没有主见，而他对自己的这些缺点，似乎毫无察觉。

托马斯爵士原以为未来的女婿完全是另一个样子。他开始为玛丽亚感到心事沉重，便想了解她是怎么想的。稍做观察之后，他就发现女儿的心完全是冷漠的。她对拉什沃思先生态度冷淡，根本没把他放在心上。她不会喜欢他，事实上也不喜欢他。托马斯爵士决定跟她认真谈一谈。尽管两家联姻对他家会有好处，尽管两人订婚时间不短，而且已是人人皆知，但是不能因此而牺牲女儿的幸福。也许她与拉什沃思先生认识不久就接受了他的求婚，后来对他有了进一步的了解，便后悔了。

托马斯爵士和气而又严肃地跟女儿谈了一次，讲了讲他的忧虑，探问了她的心思，恳求她开诚布公，并对她说：如果她觉得这桩婚事不会使她幸福，他会不顾一切困难，彻底解除这门亲事。他要采取行动，帮她解脱出来。玛丽亚一面听，心里斗争了片刻，也仅仅是片刻而已。父亲刚一说完，她便立即做出了明确的回答，丝毫看不出情绪上有什么波动。她感谢父亲莫大的关怀，感谢他的慈爱。不过，父亲完全误会了，其实她丝毫无意要解除婚约，从订婚以来，她的心意丝毫没有改变。她无比敬重拉什沃思先生的人品和性情，毫不怀疑和他在一起会是幸福的。

托马斯爵士感到满意了，也许是因为能得到满意的回答而感到太高兴了，对这件事也就不像对别的事情那样，非要逼着按他的意见去办。这是他放弃会为之痛心的一门亲事，他是这样想的。拉什沃思先生还年轻，还会上迸。他跟上流人士在一起，肯定会有长进。既然玛丽亚能一口断定她和他在一起会幸福，而她这样说又不是出于盲目的痴情和偏见，那就应该相信她的话。也许她的感情不很强烈，他从来不认为她的感情会很强烈。但是她的幸福不会因此而减少。如果她不要求丈夫是个出人头地、光芒四射的人，那她肯定会觉得处处满意。一个心地善良的年轻女人，如果不是为了爱情而结婚，往往更依恋自己的家庭。索瑟顿离曼斯菲尔德这么近，自然是对她极大的诱惑，结婚后势必会给她带来最称心、最纯真的快乐。托马斯爵士就是如此这般盘算的——他为避免了女儿婚姻破裂及其必然招致的惊奇、议论和责难等令人尴尬的后果而高兴，为巩固了一桩会大大增加他的体面和势力的亲事而高兴，而一想到女儿性情这么好，能顺利保住这桩婚事，他更是万分欢喜。

对这次谈话的结果，女儿像父亲一样满意。玛丽亚感到高兴的是，她牢牢地把握住了自己的命运——她再次下定决心要去索瑟顿——克劳福德不再会因为能支配她的行动，毁掉她的前程而洋洋得意。她踌躇满志地回到自己房里，决定今后对拉什沃思先生要谨慎一些，免得父亲又起疑心。

假如托马斯爵士是在亨利·克劳福德刚走的那三四天里跟女儿提出这个问题，趁她的心情还没平静下来，她对克劳福德先生还没完全死心，或者她还没横下心来将就着嫁给他的情敌，她的回答也许会完全不同。但是过了三四天，克劳福德先生一去不回，既不来信，也没消息——没有一点回心转意的迹象——没有因为分离而产生的眷恋——她的心冷了下来，便想从傲慢和自我报复中寻求安慰。

亨利·克劳福德破坏了她的幸福，但是还不能让他知道这一点，不能让他再毁了她的名声、她的仪表、她的前程。不能让他以为她待在曼斯菲尔德眼巴巴地盼着他，为了他而放弃了索瑟顿和伦敦，放弃了丰厚的家产和荣耀。她现在尤其需要一份丰厚的家产，如今在曼斯菲尔德越发感到自己没有独立的家产是多么不便。她越来越受不了父亲对她的约束。他去海外期间她所享受的那种自由，现在是她绝对不可或缺的。她必须尽快逃离他，逃离曼斯菲尔德，她要过有钱有势的生活，要交际应酬，要见世面，借以安慰她那受到伤害的心灵。她主意已定，决不改变。

既然有这样的想法，事情就不能再拖延了，就连许多准备事项也不能再耽搁了。拉什沃思先生也没像她这样急于结婚。她已经完全做好了思想准备：她厌恶她的家，厌恶在家里受约束，厌恶家里死气沉沉，加上情场失意带来的痛苦，以及对她想嫁的人的蔑视，由于这一切，她准备出嫁。别的事可以往后再说。新马车和家具可以等到春天，她能辨别好坏的时候，到伦敦去置办。

这方面的主要问题都定下来了，看来婚前必要的准备工作几个星期内便可完成。

拉什沃思太太非常乐意隐退，给她的宝贝儿子挑选的这位幸运的年轻女人腾出位置。11月份刚到，她便带着男仆女仆，坐着四轮轻便马车，完全按照寡妇的规矩，搬到了巴斯——在这里每天晚上向客人夸耀索瑟顿的奇妙景物——借助牌桌的兴致，讲起来就像当初亲临其境一样兴高采烈。还没到11月中，就举行了婚礼，索瑟顿又有了一位主妇。

婚礼十分体面。新娘打扮得雍容华贵，两位女傧相恰到好处地有所逊色。她父亲把她交给新郎，母亲拿着嗅盐站在那里，准备激动一番，姨妈想往外挤眼泪，格兰特博士把婚礼主持得颇为感人。左邻右舍的人议论起这次婚礼，都觉得没有什么可挑剔的，只不过把新郎、新娘和朱莉娅从教堂门口拉到索瑟顿的那辆马车，拉什沃思先生早巳用过一年。除此之外，那天的仪式在各方面都经得起最严格的检验。

婚礼结束了，新人也走了。托马斯爵士感到了为父者必然会感到的不安，他妻子原来担心自己会激动，不想幸免了，他现在却真的大为激动起来。诺里斯太太欣喜万分地帮助张罗这一天的事，在庄园里安慰妹妹，给拉什沃思夫妇祝酒时额外多喝了一两杯，真是快乐到了极点。婚事是她促成的，一切都是她的功劳。从她那神气十足、洋洋得意的样子中，谁也看不出她这辈子还听说过居然有不幸的婚事，看不出她对在她眼皮下长大的外甥女的脾气有一丝一毫的了解。

年轻夫妇计划过几天就去布赖顿，在那里租座房子住上几个星期。哪个公共场所玛丽亚都没去过，布赖顿的冬天几乎像夏天一样欢快。等玩完了所有的新鲜游乐之后，就该去伦敦大开眼界了。

朱莉娅打算陪他们俩前往布赖顿。两姊妹已经不再争风吃醋，渐渐恢复了以往的和睦，至少算得上是朋友，在此期间非常愿意彼此做伴。对于玛丽亚来说，除了拉什沃思先生以外，能有另外一个人相伴也是头等重要的事。至于朱莉娅，她像玛丽亚一样渴望新奇和欢乐，不过她不见得会为此而费尽心机，她甘愿处于现在这种从属地位。

他们这一走，在曼斯菲尔德又引起了重大的变化，留下的空隙需要一段时间才能弥补。这个家庭小圈子大大缩小了，两位伯特伦小姐虽然近来很少给家里增添欢乐，但她们走后，家里人依然想念她们。连她们的母亲都想她们。她们那心肠柔软的表妹更是想念得厉害，她在房子里转来转去，怀念她们，怜惜她们，情意绵绵地因为见不到她们而伤心，而那姐妹俩却从来没有对她这么好过啊！