“I do not think that it is quite wise to encourage a girl to neglect her useful household duties in order to compile some rubbish that no one would read,” said Mrs. Burney.
“Of course you will understand that you are not to neglect your household duties, Fanny,” said her father.
“If she performs her household duties and sticks to her needlework, she will have no time left for scribbling rubbish,” cried Mrs. Burney, hastily. “She made a bonfire of all that childish nonsense long ago, and I hope that she will never be so foolish as to waste good paper and pens and, most precious of all, good time, over such exercises. That is all we have to say just now, I think—is it not, Doctor? I shall reply to Mr. Barlowe’s letter—a most creditable letter—straightforward—honourable! I am only sorry that I cannot make the reply to it that it deserves.”
She had opened the door and called for William, their manservant, to remove the breakfast things. Fanny lingered for a few minutes after she had risen from her chair. She had assumed from the moment she had begun to speak of writing, that her opportunity had come; if her stepmother had not interposed so hastily and so emphatically, she would have made her confession as to “Evelina,” let the consequences be what they might; but now that the servant had come with his tray and her stepmother jingled her key-basket, she perceived that her chance was gone. She had a sense of sneaking out of the room.
As she went slowly up the stairs she could hear the voice of her stepmother remonstrating with her father for having said something that she, Fanny, might regard as encouragement to waste her precious time in the pursuit of such folly as writing a book.
She heard her father’s little laugh as he explained (she was sure) that of course he had not been speaking seriously; but that he had not the heart to be severe upon her and her harmless scribbling.
The author of “Evelina” went very slowly upstairs, and when she reached the work-room landing she found Susy and Lottie waiting for her, glowing with excitement. Susy was waving over her head what seemed to be a bulky pamphlet. Coming closer, Fanny saw that it was the chief of the literary reviews, which had apparently just arrived at the house.
“A splendid column about ‘Evelina,’” she whispered. “Not so good as it should be, but still splendid. Here it is. But why are you so glum? Surely they did not scold you now that the book is so great a success.”