“So much the better,” said Mrs. Burney to the girls. “We shall go directly to him, and your sister Esther will be present.”
She made them precede her to the room that was called the library. Dr. Burney and Hetty were laughing together across the table—the sound of their merriment had been heard by the girls before the door was opened. But at the portentous gravity of the entrance of Mrs. Burney her husband became grave.
“You have returned early,” he said, “and—good heavens! you have been weeping—you do not bring bad news—Fanny has not had a relapse?”
“Fanny is quite well; but I bring you bad news,” replied Mrs. Burney. “You will, I am sure, regard it as the worst possible news when I tell you that she, as well as her sisters here, have been guilty of the grossest disobedience—a conspiracy of disobedience, I may call it.”
“I am amazed—and grieved,” said he. “But I can scarcely believe that, brought up as they have been—”
“They do not deny it,” said she. “I only discovered by chance that, in defiance of our rule against novel reading, they have been trafficking with their cousin Edward to procure novels for their secret reading, and the latest they smuggled into the house is that one called ‘Evelina’—I actually found Fanny reading the book to Mr. Crisp, and her sisters admitted—”
“But what did Fanny admit?” he cried.
“She admitted that Edward had procured the book at her request,” replied his wife. “Was not that enough?”
“Not half enough—not a quarter enough, considering that it was Fanny who wrote ‘Evelina’ with her own hand and under our very noses without our suspecting it,” said Dr. Burney quietly.
Mrs. Burney looked at him dumbly for more than a whole minute. There was silence in the room.