Менсфілд Парк

Chapter XLVI

           Shesatinablazeofoppressiveheat,inacloudofmovingdust,andhereyescouldonlywanderfromthewalls,markedbyherfather’shead,tothetablecutandnotchedbyherbrothers,wherestoodthetea-boardneverthoroughlycleaned,thecupsandsaucerswipedinstreaks,themilkamixtureofmotesfloatinginthinblue,andthebreadandbuttergrowingeveryminutemoregreasythanevenRebecca’shandshadfirstproducedit.Herfatherreadhisnewspaper,andhermotherlamentedovertheraggedcarpetasusual,whiletheteawasinpreparation,andwishedRebeccawouldmendit;andFannywasfirstrousedbyhiscallingouttoher,afterhumphingandconsideringoveraparticularparagraph:“What’sthenameofyourgreatcousinsintown,Fan?”

           Amoment’srecollectionenabledhertosay,“Rushworth,sir.”

           “Anddon’ttheyliveinWimpoleStreet?”

           “Yes,sir.”

           “Then,there’sthedeviltopayamongthem,that’sall!There”(holdingoutthepapertoher);“muchgoodmaysuchfinerelationsdoyou.Idon’tknowwhatSirThomasmaythinkofsuchmatters;hemaybetoomuchofthecourtierandfinegentlemantolikehisdaughtertheless.But,byG—!ifshebelongedtome,I’dgivehertherope’sendaslongasIcouldstandoverher.Alittlefloggingformanandwomantoowouldbethebestwayofpreventingsuchthings.”

           Fannyreadtoherselfthat“itwaswithinfiniteconcernthenewspaperhadtoannouncetotheworldamatrimonialfracasinthefamilyofMr.R.ofWimpoleStreet;thebeautifulMrs.R.

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