cent enjoyment from the
play as any of them; Henry Crawford acted well, and it was a pleasure to
_her_ to creep into the theatre, and attend the rehearsal of the first
act, in spite of the feelings it excited in some speeches for Maria.
Maria, she also thought, acted well, too well; and after the first
rehearsal or two, Fanny began to be their only audience; and sometimes
as prompter, sometimes as spectator, was often very useful. As far as
she could judge, Mr. Crawford was considerably the best actor of all: he
had more confidence than Edmund, more judgment than Tom, more talent and
taste than Mr. Yates. She did not like him as a man, but she must admit
him to be the best actor, and on this point there were not many who
differed from her. Mr. Yates, indeed, exclaimed against his tameness and
insipidity; and the day came at last, when Mr. Rushworth turned to her
with a black look, and said, "Do you think there is anything so very
fine in all this? For the life and soul of me, I cannot admire him; and,
between ourselves, to see such an undersized, little, mean-looking man,
set up for a fine actor, is very ridiculous in my opinion."

From this moment there was a return of his former jealousy, which Maria,
from increasing hopes of Crawford, was at little pains to remove; and
the chances of Mr. Rushworth's ever attaining to the knowledge of his
two-and-forty speeches became much less. As to his ever making anything
_tolerable_ of them, nobody had the smallest idea of that except
his mother; _she_, indeed, regretted that his part was not more
considerable, and deferred coming over to Mansfield till they were
forward enough in their rehearsal to comprehend all his scenes; but the
others aspired at nothing beyond his remembering the catchword, and the
first line of his speech, and being able to follow the prompter through
the rest. Fanny, in her pity and kindheartedness, was at great pains to
teach him how to learn, giving him all the helps and directions in her
power, trying to make an artificial memory for him, and learning every
word of his part herself, but without his being much the forwarder.

Many uncomfortable, anxious, apprehensive feelings she certainly had;
but with all these, and other claims on her time and attention, she was
as far from finding herself without employment or utility amongst them,
as without a companion in uneasiness; quite as far from having no
demand on her leisure as on her compassion. The gloom