Murder at Mansfield Park

Mr Yates’s voice was so thunderous, his manner so ridiculous, that it was as much as Mary could do to avoid laughing aloud. In consequence, she did the comedy of the scene some credit, and they proceeded with great éclat, especially after the entrance of Henry, whose appearance in a cocked hat he had discovered in the Mansfield schoolroom was such a piece of true comic acting as Mary would not have lost upon any account.

They were obliged to stop half way through the act, where Mr Norris’s character would have entered, and Mary returned to her seat to watch Rushworth and Yates roar through the next scene. Frederick drew his sword upon his unknown father, and the Baron imprisoned his unknown son, both hallooing at one another from a distance of less than a yard. The act closed with the solemn pronouncement from Mr Yates that "Vice is never half so dangerous, as when it assumes the garb of morality", and the fervent applause of the spectators. Both audience and actors then repaired to the dining-parlour, where a collation had been prepared, and the company began upon the cold meat and cake with equal enthusiasm.

Everyone was too much engaged in compliment and criticism to be struck by an unusual noise in the other part of the house, until the door of the room was thrown open, and Maria appearing at it, with a look of meaning at her cousin and Mr Rushworth, announced in trembling tones, "Edmund has come! He is in the hall at this moment!"

Not a word was spoken for half a minute, but there was no time for further consternation, for Edmund was following his cousin almost instantaneously into the dining-room, intent on losing no time in giving them a full report of his uncle’s health, and the particulars of their journey.

"And what of you all?" he asked at the end of it. "How does the play go on?"

"We have chosen Lovers’ Vows," replied Mr Yates, his voice still rather hoarse from his exertions. "And I take Baron Wildenhaim."

"I see," said Edmund, then, "I am afraid I do not know the play," unaware of the relief this declaration afforded to at least one person present.

"You are to be Anhalt, Edmund," said Tom quickly. "We have cast all the other men. Indeed, we were in the midst of a rehearsal when you arrived."

"Pray do not leave off on my account, Tom," said Edmund with a smile. "I will join the audience and spur you on."

"Would it not be better," began Miss Price, with a look at Mr Rushworth, "if Anhalt were to read through his scene with Amelia here, in the dining-parlour? The rest might then take the opportunity to have another rehearsal of the first act."

No-one making any objection, and some amongst them being anxious to be gone, the greater part of the party returned to the theatre. Mr Norris was evidently surprised to see that Miss Price made one of them, while Mary made no movement to leave the room.

"He must have thought they were to act together," thought Mary with a sigh, as she rose and called Julia back again. "Miss Julia! Forgive me, but I am sure Mr Norris would welcome your assistance as prompter. As, indeed, would I."

Edmund took up a copy of the play, and directed by Julia, found the scene in question.

"I am at your service," he said, looking from one to the other, "but clearly I will only be able to read the part."

They began, and Mary had never felt her opening lines so apt as she did now: "I feel very low-spirited — something must be the matter."

Mr Norris stumbled over his first speeches, but it was soon apparent that he had the happiest knack of adapting his posture and voice to whatever was to be expressed, and whether it were dignity or tenderness, he could do it with equal beauty. It was truly dramatic, and caught between their theatrical and their real parts, between their present embarrassment and their past misunderstanding, they both gave such nature and feeling to the parts they were playing that Julia could not always pay attention to the book. In some confusion Mary watched as Edmund finally began upon the long-dreaded words, "When two sympathetic hearts meet in the marriage state, matrimony may be called a happy life." He was in the middle of the speech before he suspected its purport, and his reading gradually slackened, until at last, the eyes which had been fixed so studiously on the book were raised towards Mary. Their eyes instantly met, and the cheeks of each were overspread with the deepest blush.