Now, however, that she found herself alone with him, she made up her mind to tell him all about it. She would choose her own time for doing this; but it would certainly be done before she returned to St. Martin’s Street.
But on the second day after her arrival at Chessington a parcel came for her, addressed by Susy. On opening it, she found it to contain two volumes of “Evelina.” The letter that was enclosed told her that Cousin Edward had called at the Orange Coffee House and found that a set had been left there at the instance of Mr. Lowndes, addressed to Mr. Grafton. Of these, Lottie had read the first two, which were now sent on to the author, but the third she had not finished, and hoped that Fanny would not mind her detaining it for a few days longer.
This was really the first glimpse that the author had of her book in its binding. She had, in the name of Mr. Grafton, requested Mr. Lowndes to send a set of the volumes to the Orange Coffee House. But that was nearly three months ago, and until now Mr. Lowndes appeared not to have thought it worth his while to comply with the request. Now, however, it seemed to have occurred to him that the author of a book that everyone was talking about might be worth conciliating, and so he had directed a set of volumes to the Coffee House.
At once Fanny made up her mind that she would pave the way, so to speak, for a full confession to Mr. Crisp.
“Susy has sent me on two volumes of a new novel, lest I should feel dull,” she said. “As if I am not much more likely to feel dull in the company of a new novel than of my old Daddy!”
“I thought that your stepmother prohibited the reading of novels, new or old, in your house,” said he.
“Perhaps mamma did not know anything about this particular one,” replied Fanny; “besides, it is to be read in your house, not ours.”
“So that the responsibility will be mine?” said he. “Mrs. Burney is only answerable to heaven for keeping your mind free from the baleful influence of novels, but I am in a worse case, for I am answerable to Mrs. Burney. And what is the name of the precious production?”
“Let me see,” said Fanny, artfully referring to the title page. “Oh, yes: ‘Evelina; or, a Young Lady’s Entrance into the World.’ Do you call that an alluring title?”
“Too sentimental by half,” he replied. “But I have heard of the thing, and one of the reviews dealt with it some weeks ago.”