Mansfield Park. Джейн Остин

her work, thus began as he entered—‘Such a horribly vile billiard-table as ours is not to be met with, I believe, above ground. I can stand it no longer, and I think, I may say, that nothing shall ever tempt me to it again; but one good thing I have just ascertained: it is the very room for a theatre, precisely the shape and length for it; and the doors at the farther end, communicating with each other, as they may be made to do in five minutes, by merely moving the bookcase in my father’s room, is the very thing we could have desired, if we had set down to wish for it; and my father’s room will be an excellent green room. It seems to join the billiard-room on purpose.’

      ‘You are not serious, Tom, in meaning to act?’ said Edmund, in a low voice, as his brother approached the fire.

      ‘Not serious! never more so, I assure you. What is there to surprise you in it?’

      ‘I think it would be very wrong. In a general light, private theatricals are open to some objections, but as we are circumstanced, I must think it would be highly injudicious, and more than injudicious, to attempt anything of the kind. It would show great want of feeling on my father’s account, absent as he is, and in some degree of constant danger; and it would be imprudent, I think, with regard to Maria, whose situation is a very delicate one, considering everything, extremely delicate.’

      ‘You take up a thing so seriously! as if we were going to act three times a week till my father’s return, and invite all the country. But it is not to be a display of that sort. We mean nothing but a little amusement among ourselves, just to vary the scene, and exercise our powers in something new. We want no audience, no publicity. We may be trusted, I think, in choosing some play most perfectly unexceptionable; and I can conceive no greater harm or danger to any of us in conversing in the elegant written language of some respectable author than in chattering in words of our own. I have no fears, and no scruples. And as to my father’s being absent, it is so far from an objection, that I consider it rather as a motive; for the expectation of his return must be a very anxious period to my mother; and if we can be the means of amusing that anxiety, and keeping up her spirits for the next few weeks, I shall think our time very well spent, and so, I am sure, will he. It is a very anxious period for her.’

      As he said this, each looked towards their mother. Lady Bertram, sunk back in one corner of the sofa, the picture of health, wealth, ease, and tranquillity, was just falling into a gentle doze, while Fanny was getting through the few difficulties of her work for her.

      Edmund smiled and shook his head.

      ‘By Jove! this won’t do,’ cried Tom, throwing himself into a chair with a hearty laugh. ‘To be sure, my dear mother, your anxiety—I was unlucky there.’

      ‘What is the matter?’ asked her ladyship, in the heavy tone of one half roused, ‘I was not asleep.’

      ‘Oh dear no, ma’am, nobody suspected you! Well, Edmund,’ he continued, returning to the former subject, posture, and voice, as soon as Lady Bertram began to nod again, ‘but this I will maintain, that we shall be doing no harm.’

      ‘I cannot agree with you; I am convinced that my father would totally disapprove it.’