Mansfield Park by Jane Austen

And so saying, he was hurrying away, before Fanny, overpowered by a thousand feelings of pain and pleasure, could attempt to speak; but quickened by one sovereign wish she then called out, “Oh! cousin, stop a moment, pray stop.”

He turned back.

“I cannot attempt to thank you,” she continued in a very agitated manner, “thanks are out of the question. I feel much more than I can possibly express. Your goodness in thinking of me in such a way is beyond”—

“If this is all you have to say, Fanny,” smiling and turning away again—

“No, no, it is not. I want to consult you.”

Almost unconsciously she had now undone the parcel he had just put into her hand, and seeing before her, in all the niceness of jeweler’s packing, a plain gold chain perfectly simple and neat, she could not help bursting forth again. “Oh! this is beautiful indeed! this is the very thing, precisely what I wished for! this is the only ornament I have ever had a desire to possess. It will exactly suit my cross. They must and shall be worn together. It comes too in such an acceptable moment. Oh! cousin, you do not know how acceptable it is.”

“My dear Fanny, you feel these things a great deal too much. I am most happy that you like the chain, and that it should be here in time for tomorrow: but your thanks are far beyond the occasion. Believe me, I have no pleasure in the world superior to that of contributing to yours. No, I can safely say, I have no pleasure so complete, so unalloyed. It is without a drawback.”

Upon such expressions of affection, Fanny could have lived an hour without saying another word; but Edmund, after waiting a moment, obliged her to bring down her mind from its heavenly flight by saying, “But what is it that you want to consult me about?”

It was about the necklace, which she was now most earnestly longing to return, and hoped to obtain his approbation of her doing. She gave the history of her recent visit, and now her raptures might well be over, for Edmund was so struck with the circumstance, so delighted with what Miss Crawford had done, so gratified by such a coincidence of conduct between them, that Fanny could not but admit the superior power of one pleasure over his own mind, though it might have its drawback. It was some time before she could get his attention to her plan, or any answer to her demand of his opinion; he was in a reverie of fond reflection, uttering only now and then a few half sentences of praise; but when he did awake and understand, he was very decided in opposing what she wished.

“Return the necklace! No, my dear Fanny, upon no account. It would be mortifying her severely. There can hardly be a more unpleasant sensation than the having anything returned on our hands, which we have given with a reasonable hope of its contributing to the comfort of a friend. Why should she lose a pleasure which she has shown herself so deserving of?”

“If it had been given to me in the first instance,” said Fanny, “I should not have thought of returning it; but being her brother’s present, is not it fair to suppose that she would rather not part with it, when it is not wanted?”

“She must not suppose it not wanted, not acceptable at least; and its having been originally her brother’s gift makes no difference, for as she was not prevented from offering, nor you from taking it on that account, it ought not to affect your keeping it. No doubt it is handsomer than mine, and fitter for a ball-room.”

“No, it is not handsomer, not at all handsomer in its way, and for my purpose not half so fit. The chain will agree with William’s cross beyond all comparison better than the necklace.”

“For one night, Fanny, for only one night, if it be a sacrifice—I am sure you will, upon consideration, make that sacrifice rather than give pain to one who has been so studious of your comfort. Miss Crawford’s attentions to you have been—not more than you were justly entitled to—I am the last person to think that could be—but they have been invariable; and to be returning them with what must have something the air of ingratitude, though I know it could never have the meaning, is not in your nature I am sure. Wear the necklace, as you are engaged to do tomorrow evening, and let the chain, which was not ordered with any reference to the ball, be kept for commoner occasions. This is my advice. I would not have the shadow of a coolness between the two whose intimacy I have been observing with the greatest pleasure, and in whose characters there is so much general resemblance in true generosity and natural delicacy as to make the few slight differences, resulting principally from situation, no reasonable hindrance to a perfect friendship. I would not have the shadow of a coolness arise,” he repeated, his voice sinking a little, “between the two dearest objects I have on earth.”

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