It was, indeed, a triumphant day to Mr. Bertram and Maria. Such a
victory over Edmund's discretion had been beyond their hopes, and was
most delightful. There was no longer anything to disturb them in their
darling project, and they congratulated each other in private on the
jealous weakness to which they attributed the change, with all the glee
of feelings gratified in every way. Edmund might still look grave, and
say he did not like the scheme in general, and must disapprove the play
in particular; their point was gained: he was to act, and he was
driven to it by the force of selfish inclinations only. Edmund had
descended from that moral elevation which he had maintained before, and
they were both as much the better as the happier for the descent.

They behaved very well, however, to him on the occasion, betraying no
exultation beyond the lines about the corners of the mouth, and seemed
to think it as great an escape to be quit of the intrusion of Charles
Maddox, as if they had been forced into admitting him against their
inclination. "To have it quite in their own family circle was what
they had particularly wished. A stranger among them would have been
the destruction of all their comfort"; and when Edmund, pursuing that
idea, gave a hint of his hope as to the limitation of the audience,
they were ready, in the complaisance of the moment, to promise
anything. It was all good-humour and encouragement. Mrs. Norris
offered to contrive his dress, Mr. Yates assured him that Anhalt's last
scene with the Baron admitted a good deal of action and emphasis, and
Mr. Rushworth undertook to count his speeches.