Austen Said:

"Yes,"

"No."

her eyes sparkle as

the dear friend's letter, which claimed a long visit from her in London,

the kindness of Henry, in engaging to remain where he was till January, that he might convey her thither;

But this had occurred on the first day of its being settled, within the first hour of the burst of such enjoyment, when nothing but the friends she was to visit was before her.

He had since heard her express herself differently, with other feelings, more chequered feelings:

she should leave her with regret;

she began to believe neither the friends nor the pleasures she was going to were worth those she left behind;

though she felt she must go, and knew she should enjoy herself when once away, she was already looking forward to being at Mansfield again.

Was there not a "yes" in all this?

if she would be so kind as to give her opinion, it might be all talked over as well without doors as within.

Fanny's returning with her in a much more cordial manner than before,

their going up into her room, where they might have a comfortable coze, without disturbing Dr. and Mrs. Grant, who were together in the drawing-room.

"But what shall you have by way of necklace?"

"Shall not you wear your brother's cross?"

she did not know how either to wear the cross, or to refrain from wearing it.

to chuse from among several gold chains and necklaces.

Fanny's taking one for the cross and to keep for her sake,

"You see what a collection I have,"

"more by half than I ever use or think of. I do not offer them as new. I offer nothing but an old necklace. You must forgive the liberty, and oblige me."

The gift was too valuable.

she might not be accused of pride or indifference, or some other littleness;

to know which might be least valuable;

But this was an unworthy feeling.

Miss Crawford had anticipated her wants with a kindness which proved her a real friend.

"When I wear this necklace I shall always think of you,"

"and feel how very kind you were."

"You must think of somebody else too, when you wear that necklace,"

"You must think of Henry, for it was his choice in the first place. He gave it to me, and with the necklace I make over to you all the duty of remembering the original giver. It is to be a family remembrancer. The sister is not to be in your mind without bringing the brother too."

To take what had been the gift of another person, of a brother too, impossible! it must not be!

"My dear child,"

"what are you afraid of? Do you think Henry will claim the necklace as mine, and fancy you did not come honestly by it? or are you imagining he would be too much flattered by seeing round your lovely throat an ornament which his money purchased three years ago, before he knew there was such a throat in the world? or perhaps"—

"you suspect a confederacy between us, and that what I am now doing is with his knowledge and at his desire?"

"Well, then,"

"to convince me that you suspect no trick, and are as unsuspicious of compliment as I have always found you, take the necklace and say no more about it. Its being a gift of my brother's need not make the smallest difference in your accepting it, as I assure you it makes none in my willingness to part with it. He is always giving me something or other. I have such innumerable presents from him that it is quite impossible for me to value or for him to remember half. And as for this necklace, I do not suppose I have worn it six times: it is very pretty, but I never think of it; and though you would be most heartily welcome to any other in my trinket-box, you have happened to fix on the very one which, if I have a choice, I would rather part with and see in your possession than any other. Say no more against it, I entreat you. Such a trifle is not worth half so many words."

He evidently tried to please her: he was gallant, he was attentive, he was something like what he had been to her cousins: he wanted, she supposed, to cheat her of her tranquillity as he had cheated them; and whether he might not have some concern in this necklace— she could not be convinced that he had not,

for Miss Crawford, complaisant as a sister, was careless as a woman and a friend.

"Fanny,"

"I beg your pardon for being here. I came to look for you, and after waiting a little while in hope of your coming in, was making use of your inkstand to explain my errand. You will find the beginning of a note to yourself; but I can now speak my business, which is merely to beg your acceptance of this little trifle— a chain for William's cross. You ought to have had it a week ago, but there has been a delay from my brother's not being in town by several days so soon as I expected; and I have only just now received it at Northampton. I hope you will like the chain itself, Fanny. I endeavoured to consult the simplicity of your taste; but, at any rate, I know you will be kind to my intentions, and consider it, as it really is, a token of the love of one of your oldest friends."

"Oh! cousin, stop a moment, pray stop!"

"I cannot attempt to thank you,"

"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 that is all you have to say, Fanny"

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

"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 to-morrow; 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."

"But what is it that you want to consult me about?"

Fanny could not but admit the superior power of one pleasure over his own mind, though it might have its drawback.

"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 shewn herself so deserving of?"