There was no second letter to explain
away the first from Miss Crawford; there was no intelligence
from Mansfield, though it was now full time for her
to hear again from her aunt. This was an evil omen.
She had, indeed, scarcely the shadow of a hope to soothe
her mind, and was reduced to so low and wan and trembling
a condition, as no mother, not unkind, except Mrs. Price
could have overlooked, when the third day did bring the
sickening knock, and a letter was again put into her hands.
It bore the London postmark, and came from Edmund.
"Dear Fanny,--You know our present wretchedness.
May God support you under your share! We have been here
two days, but there is nothing to be done. They cannot
be traced. You may not have heard of the last blow--
Julia's elopement; she is gone to Scotland with Yates.
She left London a few hours before we entered it.
At any other time this would have been felt dreadfully.
Now it seems nothing; yet it is an heavy aggravation.
My father is not overpowered. More cannot be hoped.
He is still able to think and act; and I write,
by his desire, to propose your returning home.
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