They judged it best
that Lady Bertram should not be harassed by alarms which,
it was to be hoped, would prove unfounded; but there was
no reason why Fanny should not know the truth. They were
apprehensive for his lungs.
A very few lines from Edmund shewed her the patient
and the sickroom in a juster and stronger light than
all Lady Bertram's sheets of paper could do. There was
hardly any one in the house who might not have described,
from personal observation, better than herself;
not one who was not more useful at times to her son.
She could do nothing but glide in quietly and look at him;
but when able to talk or be talked to, or read to,
Edmund was the companion he preferred. His aunt worried
him by her cares, and Sir Thomas knew not how to bring down
his conversation or his voice to the level of irritation
and feebleness. Edmund was all in all. Fanny would
certainly believe him so at least, and must find that her
estimation of him was higher than ever when he appeared
as the attendant, supporter, cheerer of a suffering brother.
There was not only the debility of recent illness to assist:
there was also, as she now learnt, nerves much affected,
spirits much depressed to calm and raise, and her own
imagination added that there must be a mind to be
properly guided.
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