"Chapter 1\n\n\nSir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who,\nfor his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there\nhe found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed\none; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by\ncontemplating the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any\nunwelcome sensations, arising from domestic affairs changed naturally\ninto pity and contempt as he turned over the almost endless creations\nof the last century; and there, if every other leaf were powerless, he\ncould read his own history with an interest which never failed.  This\nwas the page at which the favourite volume always opened:\n\n           \"ELLIOT OF KELLYNCH HALL.\n\n\"Walter Elliot, born March 1, 1760, married, July 15, 1784, Elizabeth,\ndaughter of James Stevenson, Esq. of South Park, in the county of\nGloucester, by which lady (who died 1800) he has issue Elizabeth, born\nJune 1, 1785; Anne, born August 9, 1787; a still-born son, November 5,\n1789; Mary, born November 20, 1791.\"\n\nPrecisely such had the paragraph originally stood from the printer's\nhands; but Sir Walter had improved it by adding, for the information of\nhimself and his family, these words, after the date of Mary's birth--\n\"Married, December 16, 1810, Charles, son and heir of Charles Musgrove,\nEsq. of Uppercross, in the county of Somerset,\" and by inserting most\naccurately the day of the month on which he had lost his wife.\n\nThen followed the history and rise of the ancient and respectable\nfamily, in the usual terms; how it had been first settled in Cheshire;\nhow mentioned in Dugdale, serving the office of high sheriff,\nrepresenting a borough in three successive parliaments, exertions of\nloyalty, and dignity of baronet, in the first year of Charles II, with\nall the Marys and Elizabeths they had married; forming altogether two\nhandsome duodecimo pages, and concluding with the arms and\nmotto:--\"Principal seat, Kellynch Hall, in the county of Somerset,\" and\nSir Walter's handwriting again in this finale:--\n\n\"Heir presumptive, William Walter Elliot, Esq., great grandson of the\nsecond Sir Walter.\"\n\nVanity was the beginning and the end of Sir Walter Elliot's character;\nvanity of person and of situation.  He had been remarkably handsome in\nhis youth; and, at fifty-four, was still a very fine man.  Few women\ncould think more of their personal appearance than he did, nor could\nthe valet of any new made lord be more delighted with the place he held\nin society.  He considered the blessing of beauty as inferior only to\nthe blessing of a baronetcy; and the Sir Walter Elliot, who united\nthese gifts, was the constant object of his warmest respect and\ndevotion.\n\nHis good looks and his rank had one fair claim on his attachment; since\nto them he must have owed a wife of very superior character to any\nthing deserved by his own.  Lady Elliot had been an excellent woman,\nsensible and amiable; whose judgement and conduct, if they might be\npardoned the youthful infatuation which made her Lady Elliot, had never\nrequired indulgence afterwards.--She had humoured, or softened, or\nconcealed his failings, and promoted his real respectability for\nseventeen years; and though not the very happiest being in the world\nherself, had found enough in her duties, her friends, and her children,\nto attach her to life, and make it no matter of indifference to her\nwhen she was called on to quit them.--Three girls, the two eldest\nsixteen and fourteen, was an awful legacy for a mother to bequeath, an\nawful charge rather, to confide to the authority and guidance of a\nconceited, silly father.  She had, however, one very intimate friend, a\nsensible, deserving woman, who had been brought, by strong attachment\nto herself, to settle close by her, in the village of Kellynch; and on\nher kindness and advice, Lady Elliot mainly relied for the best help\nand maintenance of the good principles and instruction which she had\nbeen anxiously giving her daughters.\n\nThis friend, and Sir Walter, did not marry, whatever might have been\nanticipated on that head by their acquaintance.  Thirteen years had\npassed away since Lady Elliot's death, and they were still near\nneighbours and intimate friends, and one remained a widower, the other\na widow.\n\nThat Lady Russell, of steady age and character, and extremely well\nprovided for, should have no thought of a second marriage, needs no\napology to the public, which is rather apt to be unreasonably\ndiscontented when a woman does marry again, than when she does not; but\nSir Walter's continuing in singleness requires explanation.  Be it\nknown then, that Sir Walter, like a good father, (having met with one\nor two private disappointments in very unreasonable applications),\nprided himself on remaining single for his dear daughters' sake.  For\none daughter, his eldest, he would really have given up any thing,\nwhich he had not been very much tempted to do.  Elizabeth had\nsucceeded, at sixteen, to all that was possible, of her mother's rights\nand consequence; and being very handsome, and very like himself, her\ninfluence had always been great, and they had gone on together most\nhappily.  His two other children were of very inferior value.  Mary had\nacquired a little artificial importance, by becoming Mrs Charles\nMusgrove; but Anne, with an elegance of mind and sweetness of\ncharacter, which must have placed her high with any people of real\nunderstanding, was nobody with either father or sister; her word had no\nweight, her convenience was always to give way--she was only Anne.\n\nTo Lady Russell, indeed, she was a most dear and highly valued\ngod-daughter, favourite, and friend.  Lady Russell loved them all; but\nit was only in Anne that she could fancy the mother to revive again.\n\nA few years before, Anne Elliot had been a very pretty girl, but her\nbloom had vanished early; and as even in its height, her father had\nfound little to admire in her, (so totally different were her delicate\nfeatures and mild dark eyes from his own), there could be nothing in\nthem, now that she was faded and thin, to excite his esteem. He had\nnever indulged much hope, he had now none, of ever reading her name in\nany other page of his favourite work.  All equality of alliance must\nrest with Elizabeth, for Mary had merely connected herself with an old\ncountry family of respectability and large fortune, and had therefore\ngiven all the honour and received none: Elizabeth would, one day or\nother, marry suitably.\n\nIt sometimes happens that a woman is handsomer at twenty-nine than she\nwas ten years before; and, generally speaking, if there has been\nneither ill health nor anxiety, it is a time of life at which scarcely\nany charm is lost.  It was so with Elizabeth, still the same handsome\nMiss Elliot that she had begun to be thirteen years ago, and Sir Walter\nmight be excused, therefore, in forgetting her age, or, at least, be\ndeemed only half a fool, for thinking himself and Elizabeth as blooming\nas ever, amidst the wreck of the good looks of everybody else; for he\ncould plainly see how old all the rest of his family and acquaintance\nwere growing.  Anne haggard, Mary coarse, every face in the\nneighbourhood worsting, and the rapid increase of the crow's foot about\nLady Russell's temples had long been a distress to him.\n\nElizabeth did not quite equal her father in personal contentment.\nThirteen years had seen her mistress of Kellynch Hall, presiding and\ndirecting with a self-possession and decision which could never have\ngiven the idea of her being younger than she was.  For thirteen years\nhad she been doing the honours, and laying down the domestic law at\nhome, and leading the way to the chaise and four, and walking\nimmediately after Lady Russell out of all the drawing-rooms and\ndining-rooms in the country.  Thirteen winters' revolving frosts had\nseen her opening every ball of credit which a scanty neighbourhood\nafforded, and thirteen springs shewn their blossoms, as she travelled\nup to London with her father, for a few weeks' annual enjoyment of the\ngreat world.  She had the remembrance of all this, she had the\nconsciousness of being nine-and-twenty to give her some regrets and\nsome apprehensions; she was fully satisfied of being still quite as\nhandsome as ever, but she felt her approach to the years of danger, and\nwould have rejoiced to be certain of being properly solicited by\nbaronet-blood within the next twelvemonth or two.  Then might she again\ntake up the book of books with as much enjoyment as in her early youth,\nbut now she liked it not.  Always to be presented with the date of her\nown birth and see no marriage follow but that of a youngest sister,\nmade the book an evil; and more than once, when her father had left it\nopen on the table near her, had she closed it, with averted eyes, and\npushed it away.\n\nShe had had a disappointment, moreover, which that book, and especially\nthe history of her own family, must ever present the remembrance of.\nThe heir presumptive, the very William Walter Elliot, Esq., whose\nrights had been so generously supported by her father, had disappointed\nher.\n\nShe had, while a very young girl, as soon as she had known him to be,\nin the event of her having no brother, the future baronet, meant to\nmarry him, and her father had always meant that she should.  He had not\nbeen known to them as a boy; but soon after Lady Elliot's death, Sir\nWalter had sought the acquaintance, and though his overtures had not\nbeen met with any warmth, he had persevered in seeking it, making\nallowance for the modest drawing-back of youth; and, in one of their\nspring excursions to London, when Elizabeth was in her first bloom, Mr\nElliot had been forced into the introduction.\n\nHe was at that time a very young man, just engaged in the study of the\nlaw; and Elizabeth found him extremely agreeable, and every plan in his\nfavour was confirmed.  He was invited to Kellynch Hall; he was talked\nof and expected all the rest of the year; but he never came.  The\nfollowing spring he was seen again in town, found equally agreeable,\nagain encouraged, invited, and expected, and again he did not come; and\nthe next tidings were that he was married.  Instead of pushing his\nfortune in the line marked out for the heir of the house of Elliot, he\nhad purchased independence by uniting himself to a rich woman of\ninferior birth.\n\nSir Walter had resented it.  As the head of the house, he felt that he\nought to have been consulted, especially after taking the young man so\npublicly by the hand; \"For they must have been seen together,\" he\nobserved, \"once at Tattersall's, and twice in the lobby of the House of\nCommons.\"  His disapprobation was expressed, but apparently very little\nregarded.  Mr Elliot had attempted no apology, and shewn himself as\nunsolicitous of being longer noticed by the family, as Sir Walter\nconsidered him unworthy of it:  all acquaintance between them had\nceased.\n\nThis very awkward history of Mr Elliot was still, after an interval of\nseveral years, felt with anger by Elizabeth, who had liked the man for\nhimself, and still more for being her father's heir, and whose strong\nfamily pride could see only in him a proper match for Sir Walter\nElliot's eldest daughter.  There was not a baronet from A to Z whom her\nfeelings could have so willingly acknowledged as an equal.  Yet so\nmiserably had he conducted himself, that though she was at this present\ntime (the summer of 1814) wearing black ribbons for his wife, she could\nnot admit him to be worth thinking of again.  The disgrace of his first\nmarriage might, perhaps, as there was no reason to suppose it\nperpetuated by offspring, have been got over, had he not done worse;\nbut he had, as by the accustomary intervention of kind friends, they\nhad been informed, spoken most disrespectfully of them all, most\nslightingly and contemptuously of the very blood he belonged to, and\nthe honours which were hereafter to be his own.  This could not be\npardoned.\n\nSuch were Elizabeth Elliot's sentiments and sensations; such the cares\nto alloy, the agitations to vary, the sameness and the elegance, the\nprosperity and the nothingness of her scene of life; such the feelings\nto give interest to a long, uneventful residence in one country circle,\nto fill the vacancies which there were no habits of utility abroad, no\ntalents or accomplishments for home, to occupy.\n\nBut now, another occupation and solicitude of mind was beginning to be\nadded to these.  Her father was growing distressed for money.  She\nknew, that when he now took up the Baronetage, it was to drive the\nheavy bills of his tradespeople, and the unwelcome hints of Mr\nShepherd, his agent, from his thoughts.  The Kellynch property was\ngood, but not equal to Sir Walter's apprehension of the state required\nin its possessor.  While Lady Elliot lived, there had been method,\nmoderation, and economy, which had just kept him within his income; but\nwith her had died all such right-mindedness, and from that period he\nhad been constantly exceeding it.  It had not been possible for him to\nspend less; he had done nothing but what Sir Walter Elliot was\nimperiously called on to do; but blameless as he was, he was not only\ngrowing dreadfully in debt, but was hearing of it so often, that it\nbecame vain to attempt concealing it longer, even partially, from his\ndaughter.  He had given her some hints of it the last spring in town;\nhe had gone so far even as to say, \"Can we retrench?  Does it occur to\nyou that there is any one article in which we can retrench?\" and\nElizabeth, to do her justice, had, in the first ardour of female alarm,\nset seriously to think what could be done, and had finally proposed\nthese two branches of economy, to cut off some unnecessary charities,\nand to refrain from new furnishing the drawing-room; to which\nexpedients she afterwards added the happy thought of their taking no\npresent down to Anne, as had been the usual yearly custom.  But these\nmeasures, however good in themselves, were insufficient for the real\nextent of the evil, the whole of which Sir Walter found himself obliged\nto confess to her soon afterwards.  Elizabeth had nothing to propose of\ndeeper efficacy.  She felt herself ill-used and unfortunate, as did her\nfather; and they were neither of them able to devise any means of\nlessening their expenses without compromising their dignity, or\nrelinquishing their comforts in a way not to be borne.\n\nThere was only a small part of his estate that Sir Walter could dispose\nof; but had every acre been alienable, it would have made no\ndifference.  He had condescended to mortgage as far as he had the\npower, but he would never condescend to sell.  No; he would never\ndisgrace his name so far.  The Kellynch estate should be transmitted\nwhole and entire, as he had received it.\n\nTheir two confidential friends, Mr Shepherd, who lived in the\nneighbouring market town, and Lady Russell, were called to advise them;\nand both father and daughter seemed to expect that something should be\nstruck out by one or the other to remove their embarrassments and\nreduce their expenditure, without involving the loss of any indulgence\nof taste or pride.\n\n\n\nChapter 2\n\n\nMr Shepherd, a civil, cautious lawyer, who, whatever might be his hold\nor his views on Sir Walter, would rather have the disagreeable prompted\nby anybody else, excused himself from offering the slightest hint, and\nonly begged leave to recommend an implicit reference to the excellent\njudgement of Lady Russell, from whose known good sense he fully\nexpected to have just such resolute measures advised as he meant to see\nfinally adopted.\n\nLady Russell was most anxiously zealous on the subject, and gave it\nmuch serious consideration.  She was a woman rather of sound than of\nquick abilities, whose difficulties in coming to any decision in this\ninstance were great, from the opposition of two leading principles.\nShe was of strict integrity herself, with a delicate sense of honour;\nbut she was as desirous of saving Sir Walter's feelings, as solicitous\nfor the credit of the family, as aristocratic in her ideas of what was\ndue to them, as anybody of sense and honesty could well be.  She was a\nbenevolent, charitable, good woman, and capable of strong attachments,\nmost correct in her conduct, strict in her notions of decorum, and with\nmanners that were held a standard of good-breeding.  She had a\ncultivated mind, and was, generally speaking, rational and consistent;\nbut she had prejudices on the side of ancestry; she had a value for\nrank and consequence, which blinded her a little to the faults of those\nwho possessed them.  Herself the widow of only a knight, she gave the\ndignity of a baronet all its due; and Sir Walter, independent of his\nclaims as an old acquaintance, an attentive neighbour, an obliging\nlandlord, the husband of her very dear friend, the father of Anne and\nher sisters, was, as being Sir Walter, in her apprehension, entitled to\na great deal of compassion and consideration under his present\ndifficulties.\n\nThey must retrench; that did not admit of a doubt.  But she was very\nanxious to have it done with the least possible pain to him and\nElizabeth. She drew up plans of economy, she made exact calculations,\nand she did what nobody else thought of doing:  she consulted Anne, who\nnever seemed considered by the others as having any interest in the\nquestion. She consulted, and in a degree was influenced by her in\nmarking out the scheme of retrenchment which was at last submitted to\nSir Walter. Every emendation of Anne's had been on the side of honesty\nagainst importance.  She wanted more vigorous measures, a more complete\nreformation, a quicker release from debt, a much higher tone of\nindifference for everything but justice and equity.\n\n\"If we can persuade your father to all this,\" said Lady Russell,\nlooking over her paper, \"much may be done.  If he will adopt these\nregulations, in seven years he will be clear; and I hope we may be able\nto convince him and Elizabeth, that Kellynch Hall has a respectability\nin itself which cannot be affected by these reductions; and that the\ntrue dignity of Sir Walter Elliot will be very far from lessened in the\neyes of sensible people, by acting like a man of principle.  What will\nhe be doing, in fact, but what very many of our first families have\ndone, or ought to do?  There will be nothing singular in his case; and\nit is singularity which often makes the worst part of our suffering, as\nit always does of our conduct.  I have great hope of prevailing.  We\nmust be serious and decided; for after all, the person who has\ncontracted debts must pay them; and though a great deal is due to the\nfeelings of the gentleman, and the head of a house, like your father,\nthere is still more due to the character of an honest man.\"\n\nThis was the principle on which Anne wanted her father to be\nproceeding, his friends to be urging him.  She considered it as an act\nof indispensable duty to clear away the claims of creditors with all\nthe expedition which the most comprehensive retrenchments could secure,\nand saw no dignity in anything short of it.  She wanted it to be\nprescribed, and felt as a duty.  She rated Lady Russell's influence\nhighly; and as to the severe degree of self-denial which her own\nconscience prompted, she believed there might be little more difficulty\nin persuading them to a complete, than to half a reformation.  Her\nknowledge of her father and Elizabeth inclined her to think that the\nsacrifice of one pair of horses would be hardly less painful than of\nboth, and so on, through the whole list of Lady Russell's too gentle\nreductions.\n\nHow Anne's more rigid requisitions might have been taken is of little\nconsequence.  Lady Russell's had no success at all: could not be put up\nwith, were not to be borne. \"What! every comfort of life knocked off!\nJourneys, London, servants, horses, table--contractions and\nrestrictions every where!  To live no longer with the decencies even of\na private gentleman!  No, he would sooner quit Kellynch Hall at once,\nthan remain in it on such disgraceful terms.\"\n\n\"Quit Kellynch Hall.\"  The hint was immediately taken up by Mr\nShepherd, whose interest was involved in the reality of Sir Walter's\nretrenching, and who was perfectly persuaded that nothing would be done\nwithout a change of abode.  \"Since the idea had been started in the\nvery quarter which ought to dictate, he had no scruple,\" he said, \"in\nconfessing his judgement to be entirely on that side.  It did not\nappear to him that Sir Walter could materially alter his style of\nliving in a house which had such a character of hospitality and ancient\ndignity to support.  In any other place Sir Walter might judge for\nhimself; and would be looked up to, as regulating the modes of life in\nwhatever way he might choose to model his household.\"\n\nSir Walter would quit Kellynch Hall; and after a very few days more of\ndoubt and indecision, the great question of whither he should go was\nsettled, and the first outline of this important change made out.\n\nThere had been three alternatives, London, Bath, or another house in\nthe country.  All Anne's wishes had been for the latter.  A small house\nin their own neighbourhood, where they might still have Lady Russell's\nsociety, still be near Mary, and still have the pleasure of sometimes\nseeing the lawns and groves of Kellynch, was the object of her\nambition.  But the usual fate of Anne attended her, in having something\nvery opposite from her inclination fixed on.  She disliked Bath, and\ndid not think it agreed with her; and Bath was to be her home.\n\nSir Walter had at first thought more of London; but Mr Shepherd felt\nthat he could not be trusted in London, and had been skilful enough to\ndissuade him from it, and make Bath preferred.  It was a much safer\nplace for a gentleman in his predicament:  he might there be important\nat comparatively little expense.  Two material advantages of Bath over\nLondon had of course been given all their weight:  its more convenient\ndistance from Kellynch, only fifty miles, and Lady Russell's spending\nsome part of every winter there; and to the very great satisfaction of\nLady Russell, whose first views on the projected change had been for\nBath, Sir Walter and Elizabeth were induced to believe that they should\nlose neither consequence nor enjoyment by settling there.\n\nLady Russell felt obliged to oppose her dear Anne's known wishes.  It\nwould be too much to expect Sir Walter to descend into a small house in\nhis own neighbourhood.  Anne herself would have found the\nmortifications of it more than she foresaw, and to Sir Walter's\nfeelings they must have been dreadful.  And with regard to Anne's\ndislike of Bath, she considered it as a prejudice and mistake arising,\nfirst, from the circumstance of her having been three years at school\nthere, after her mother's death; and secondly, from her happening to be\nnot in perfectly good spirits the only winter which she had afterwards\nspent there with herself.\n\nLady Russell was fond of Bath, in short, and disposed to think it must\nsuit them all; and as to her young friend's health, by passing all the\nwarm months with her at Kellynch Lodge, every danger would be avoided;\nand it was in fact, a change which must do both health and spirits\ngood.  Anne had been too little from home, too little seen. Her spirits\nwere not high.  A larger society would improve them.  She wanted her to\nbe more known.\n\nThe undesirableness of any other house in the same neighbourhood for\nSir Walter was certainly much strengthened by one part, and a very\nmaterial part of the scheme, which had been happily engrafted on the\nbeginning.  He was not only to quit his home, but to see it in the\nhands of others; a trial of fortitude, which stronger heads than Sir\nWalter's have found too much.  Kellynch Hall was to be let.  This,\nhowever, was a profound secret, not to be breathed beyond their own\ncircle.\n\nSir Walter could not have borne the degradation of being known to\ndesign letting his house.  Mr Shepherd had once mentioned the word\n\"advertise,\" but never dared approach it again.  Sir Walter spurned the\nidea of its being offered in any manner; forbad the slightest hint\nbeing dropped of his having such an intention; and it was only on the\nsupposition of his being spontaneously solicited by some most\nunexceptionable applicant, on his own terms, and as a great favour,\nthat he would let it at all.\n\nHow quick come the reasons for approving what we like!  Lady Russell\nhad another excellent one at hand, for being extremely glad that Sir\nWalter and his family were to remove from the country.  Elizabeth had\nbeen lately forming an intimacy, which she wished to see interrupted.\nIt was with the daughter of Mr Shepherd, who had returned, after an\nunprosperous marriage, to her father's house, with the additional\nburden of two children.  She was a clever young woman, who understood\nthe art of pleasing--the art of pleasing, at least, at Kellynch Hall;\nand who had made herself so acceptable to Miss Elliot, as to have been\nalready staying there more than once, in spite of all that Lady\nRussell, who thought it a friendship quite out of place, could hint of\ncaution and reserve.\n\nLady Russell, indeed, had scarcely any influence with Elizabeth, and\nseemed to love her, rather because she would love her, than because\nElizabeth deserved it.  She had never received from her more than\noutward attention, nothing beyond the observances of complaisance; had\nnever succeeded in any point which she wanted to carry, against\nprevious inclination.  She had been repeatedly very earnest in trying\nto get Anne included in the visit to London, sensibly open to all the\ninjustice and all the discredit of the selfish arrangements which shut\nher out, and on many lesser occasions had endeavoured to give Elizabeth\nthe advantage of her own better judgement and experience; but always in\nvain:  Elizabeth would go her own way; and never had she pursued it in\nmore decided opposition to Lady Russell than in this selection of Mrs\nClay; turning from the society of so deserving a sister, to bestow her\naffection and confidence on one who ought to have been nothing to her\nbut the object of distant civility.\n\nFrom situation, Mrs Clay was, in Lady Russell's estimate, a very\nunequal, and in her character she believed a very dangerous companion;\nand a removal that would leave Mrs Clay behind, and bring a choice of\nmore suitable intimates within Miss Elliot's reach, was therefore an\nobject of first-rate importance.\n\n\n\nChapter 3\n\n\n\"I must take leave to observe, Sir Walter,\" said Mr Shepherd one\nmorning at Kellynch Hall, as he laid down the newspaper, \"that the\npresent juncture is much in our favour.  This peace will be turning all\nour rich naval officers ashore.  They will be all wanting a home.\nCould not be a better time, Sir Walter, for having a choice of tenants,\nvery responsible tenants.  Many a noble fortune has been made during\nthe war.  If a rich admiral were to come in our way, Sir Walter--\"\n\n\"He would be a very lucky man, Shepherd,\" replied Sir Walter; \"that's\nall I have to remark.  A prize indeed would Kellynch Hall be to him;\nrather the greatest prize of all, let him have taken ever so many\nbefore; hey, Shepherd?\"\n\nMr Shepherd laughed, as he knew he must, at this wit, and then added--\n\n\"I presume to observe, Sir Walter, that, in the way of business,\ngentlemen of the navy are well to deal with.  I have had a little\nknowledge of their methods of doing business; and I am free to confess\nthat they have very liberal notions, and are as likely to make\ndesirable tenants as any set of people one should meet with.\nTherefore, Sir Walter, what I would take leave to suggest is, that if\nin consequence of any rumours getting abroad of your intention; which\nmust be contemplated as a possible thing, because we know how difficult\nit is to keep the actions and designs of one part of the world from the\nnotice and curiosity of the other; consequence has its tax; I, John\nShepherd, might conceal any family-matters that I chose, for nobody\nwould think it worth their while to observe me; but Sir Walter Elliot\nhas eyes upon him which it may be very difficult to elude; and\ntherefore, thus much I venture upon, that it will not greatly surprise\nme if, with all our caution, some rumour of the truth should get\nabroad; in the supposition of which, as I was going to observe, since\napplications will unquestionably follow, I should think any from our\nwealthy naval commanders particularly worth attending to; and beg leave\nto add, that two hours will bring me over at any time, to save you the\ntrouble of replying.\"\n\nSir Walter only nodded.  But soon afterwards, rising and pacing the\nroom, he observed sarcastically--\n\n\"There are few among the gentlemen of the navy, I imagine, who would\nnot be surprised to find themselves in a house of this description.\"\n\n\"They would look around them, no doubt, and bless their good fortune,\"\nsaid Mrs Clay, for Mrs Clay was present:  her father had driven her\nover, nothing being of so much use to Mrs Clay's health as a drive to\nKellynch: \"but I quite agree with my father in thinking a sailor might\nbe a very desirable tenant.  I have known a good deal of the\nprofession; and besides their liberality, they are so neat and careful\nin all their ways!  These valuable pictures of yours, Sir Walter, if\nyou chose to leave them, would be perfectly safe.  Everything in and\nabout the house would be taken such excellent care of!  The gardens and\nshrubberies would be kept in almost as high order as they are now.  You\nneed not be afraid, Miss Elliot, of your own sweet flower gardens being\nneglected.\"\n\n\"As to all that,\" rejoined Sir Walter coolly, \"supposing I were induced\nto let my house, I have by no means made up my mind as to the\nprivileges to be annexed to it.  I am not particularly disposed to\nfavour a tenant.  The park would be open to him of course, and few navy\nofficers, or men of any other description, can have had such a range;\nbut what restrictions I might impose on the use of the\npleasure-grounds, is another thing.  I am not fond of the idea of my\nshrubberies being always approachable; and I should recommend Miss\nElliot to be on her guard with respect to her flower garden.  I am very\nlittle disposed to grant a tenant of Kellynch Hall any extraordinary\nfavour, I assure you, be he sailor or soldier.\"\n\nAfter a short pause, Mr Shepherd presumed to say--\n\n\"In all these cases, there are established usages which make everything\nplain and easy between landlord and tenant.  Your interest, Sir Walter,\nis in pretty safe hands.  Depend upon me for taking care that no tenant\nhas more than his just rights.  I venture to hint, that Sir Walter\nElliot cannot be half so jealous for his own, as John Shepherd will be\nfor him.\"\n\nHere Anne spoke--\n\n\"The navy, I think, who have done so much for us, have at least an\nequal claim with any other set of men, for all the comforts and all the\nprivileges which any home can give.  Sailors work hard enough for their\ncomforts, we must all allow.\"\n\n\"Very true, very true.  What Miss Anne says, is very true,\" was Mr\nShepherd's rejoinder, and \"Oh! certainly,\" was his daughter's; but Sir\nWalter's remark was, soon afterwards--\n\n\"The profession has its utility, but I should be sorry to see any\nfriend of mine belonging to it.\"\n\n\"Indeed!\" was the reply, and with a look of surprise.\n\n\"Yes; it is in two points offensive to me; I have two strong grounds of\nobjection to it.  First, as being the means of bringing persons of\nobscure birth into undue distinction, and raising men to honours which\ntheir fathers and grandfathers never dreamt of; and secondly, as it\ncuts up a man's youth and vigour most horribly; a sailor grows old\nsooner than any other man.  I have observed it all my life.  A man is\nin greater danger in the navy of being insulted by the rise of one\nwhose father, his father might have disdained to speak to, and of\nbecoming prematurely an object of disgust himself, than in any other\nline.  One day last spring, in town, I was in company with two men,\nstriking instances of what I am talking of; Lord St Ives, whose father\nwe all know to have been a country curate, without bread to eat; I was\nto give place to Lord St Ives, and a certain Admiral Baldwin, the most\ndeplorable-looking personage you can imagine; his face the colour of\nmahogany, rough and rugged to the last degree; all lines and wrinkles,\nnine grey hairs of a side, and nothing but a dab of powder at top.  'In\nthe name of heaven, who is that old fellow?' said I to a friend of mine\nwho was standing near, (Sir Basil Morley).  'Old fellow!' cried Sir\nBasil, 'it is Admiral Baldwin.  What do you take his age to be?'\n'Sixty,' said I, 'or perhaps sixty-two.' 'Forty,' replied Sir Basil,\n'forty, and no more.'  Picture to yourselves my amazement; I shall not\neasily forget Admiral Baldwin.  I never saw quite so wretched an\nexample of what a sea-faring life can do; but to a degree, I know it is\nthe same with them all:  they are all knocked about, and exposed to\nevery climate, and every weather, till they are not fit to be seen.  It\nis a pity they are not knocked on the head at once, before they reach\nAdmiral Baldwin's age.\"\n\n\"Nay, Sir Walter,\" cried Mrs Clay, \"this is being severe indeed.  Have\na little mercy on the poor men.  We are not all born to be handsome.\nThe sea is no beautifier, certainly; sailors do grow old betimes; I\nhave observed it; they soon lose the look of youth.  But then, is not\nit the same with many other professions, perhaps most other?  Soldiers,\nin active service, are not at all better off:  and even in the quieter\nprofessions, there is a toil and a labour of the mind, if not of the\nbody, which seldom leaves a man's looks to the natural effect of time.\nThe lawyer plods, quite care-worn; the physician is up at all hours,\nand travelling in all weather; and even the clergyman--\" she stopt a\nmoment to consider what might do for the clergyman;--\"and even the\nclergyman, you know is obliged to go into infected rooms, and expose\nhis health and looks to all the injury of a poisonous atmosphere.  In\nfact, as I have long been convinced, though every profession is\nnecessary and honourable in its turn, it is only the lot of those who\nare not obliged to follow any, who can live in a regular way, in the\ncountry, choosing their own hours, following their own pursuits, and\nliving on their own property, without the torment of trying for more;\nit is only their lot, I say, to hold the blessings of health and a good\nappearance to the utmost: I know no other set of men but what lose\nsomething of their personableness when they cease to be quite young.\"\n\nIt seemed as if Mr Shepherd, in this anxiety to bespeak Sir Walter's\ngood will towards a naval officer as tenant, had been gifted with\nforesight; for the very first application for the house was from an\nAdmiral Croft, with whom he shortly afterwards fell into company in\nattending the quarter sessions at Taunton; and indeed, he had received\na hint of the Admiral from a London correspondent.  By the report which\nhe hastened over to Kellynch to make, Admiral Croft was a native of\nSomersetshire, who having acquired a very handsome fortune, was wishing\nto settle in his own country, and had come down to Taunton in order to\nlook at some advertised places in that immediate neighbourhood, which,\nhowever, had not suited him; that accidentally hearing--(it was just as\nhe had foretold, Mr Shepherd observed, Sir Walter's concerns could not\nbe kept a secret,)--accidentally hearing of the possibility of\nKellynch Hall being to let, and understanding his (Mr Shepherd's)\nconnection with the owner, he had introduced himself to him in order to\nmake particular inquiries, and had, in the course of a pretty long\nconference, expressed as strong an inclination for the place as a man\nwho knew it only by description could feel; and given Mr Shepherd, in\nhis explicit account of himself, every proof of his being a most\nresponsible, eligible tenant.\n\n\"And who is Admiral Croft?\" was Sir Walter's cold suspicious inquiry.\n\nMr Shepherd answered for his being of a gentleman's family, and\nmentioned a place; and Anne, after the little pause which followed,\nadded--\n\n\"He is a rear admiral of the white.  He was in the Trafalgar action,\nand has been in the East Indies since; he was stationed there, I\nbelieve, several years.\"\n\n\"Then I take it for granted,\" observed Sir Walter, \"that his face is\nabout as orange as the cuffs and capes of my livery.\"\n\nMr Shepherd hastened to assure him, that Admiral Croft was a very hale,\nhearty, well-looking man, a little weather-beaten, to be sure, but not\nmuch, and quite the gentleman in all his notions and behaviour; not\nlikely to make the smallest difficulty about terms, only wanted a\ncomfortable home, and to get into it as soon as possible; knew he must\npay for his convenience; knew what rent a ready-furnished house of that\nconsequence might fetch; should not have been surprised if Sir Walter\nhad asked more; had inquired about the manor; would be glad of the\ndeputation, certainly, but made no great point of it; said he sometimes\ntook out a gun, but never killed; quite the gentleman.\n\nMr Shepherd was eloquent on the subject; pointing out all the\ncircumstances of the Admiral's family, which made him peculiarly\ndesirable as a tenant.  He was a married man, and without children; the\nvery state to be wished for.  A house was never taken good care of, Mr\nShepherd observed, without a lady: he did not know, whether furniture\nmight not be in danger of suffering as much where there was no lady, as\nwhere there were many children.  A lady, without a family, was the very\nbest preserver of furniture in the world.  He had seen Mrs Croft, too;\nshe was at Taunton with the admiral, and had been present almost all\nthe time they were talking the matter over.\n\n\"And a very well-spoken, genteel, shrewd lady, she seemed to be,\"\ncontinued he; \"asked more questions about the house, and terms, and\ntaxes, than the Admiral himself, and seemed more conversant with\nbusiness; and moreover, Sir Walter, I found she was not quite\nunconnected in this country, any more than her husband; that is to say,\nshe is sister to a gentleman who did live amongst us once; she told me\nso herself: sister to the gentleman who lived a few years back at\nMonkford. Bless me! what was his name? At this moment I cannot\nrecollect his name, though I have heard it so lately. Penelope, my\ndear, can you help me to the name of the gentleman who lived at\nMonkford: Mrs Croft's brother?\"\n\nBut Mrs Clay was talking so eagerly with Miss Elliot, that she did not\nhear the appeal.\n\n\"I have no conception whom you can mean, Shepherd; I remember no\ngentleman resident at Monkford since the time of old Governor Trent.\"\n\n\"Bless me! how very odd!  I shall forget my own name soon, I suppose.\nA name that I am so very well acquainted with; knew the gentleman so\nwell by sight; seen him a hundred times; came to consult me once, I\nremember, about a trespass of one of his neighbours; farmer's man\nbreaking into his orchard; wall torn down; apples stolen; caught in the\nfact; and afterwards, contrary to my judgement, submitted to an\namicable compromise.  Very odd indeed!\"\n\nAfter waiting another moment--\n\n\"You mean Mr Wentworth, I suppose?\" said Anne.\n\nMr Shepherd was all gratitude.\n\n\"Wentworth was the very name!  Mr Wentworth was the very man.  He had\nthe curacy of Monkford, you know, Sir Walter, some time back, for two\nor three years.  Came there about the year ---5, I take it.  You\nremember him, I am sure.\"\n\n\"Wentworth?  Oh! ay,--Mr Wentworth, the curate of Monkford.  You misled\nme by the term gentleman.  I thought you were speaking of some man of\nproperty:  Mr Wentworth was nobody, I remember; quite unconnected;\nnothing to do with the Strafford family.  One wonders how the names of\nmany of our nobility become so common.\"\n\nAs Mr Shepherd perceived that this connexion of the Crofts did them no\nservice with Sir Walter, he mentioned it no more; returning, with all\nhis zeal, to dwell on the circumstances more indisputably in their\nfavour; their age, and number, and fortune; the high idea they had\nformed of Kellynch Hall, and extreme solicitude for the advantage of\nrenting it; making it appear as if they ranked nothing beyond the\nhappiness of being the tenants of Sir Walter Elliot: an extraordinary\ntaste, certainly, could they have been supposed in the secret of Sir\nWalter's estimate of the dues of a tenant.\n\nIt succeeded, however; and though Sir Walter must ever look with an\nevil eye on anyone intending to inhabit that house, and think them\ninfinitely too well off in being permitted to rent it on the highest\nterms, he was talked into allowing Mr Shepherd to proceed in the\ntreaty, and authorising him to wait on Admiral Croft, who still\nremained at Taunton, and fix a day for the house being seen.\n\nSir Walter was not very wise; but still he had experience enough of the\nworld to feel, that a more unobjectionable tenant, in all essentials,\nthan Admiral Croft bid fair to be, could hardly offer.  So far went his\nunderstanding; and his vanity supplied a little additional soothing, in\nthe Admiral's situation in life, which was just high enough, and not\ntoo high.  \"I have let my house to Admiral Croft,\" would sound\nextremely well; very much better than to any mere Mr--; a Mr (save,\nperhaps, some half dozen in the nation,) always needs a note of\nexplanation.  An admiral speaks his own consequence, and, at the same\ntime, can never make a baronet look small.  In all their dealings and\nintercourse, Sir Walter Elliot must ever have the precedence.\n\nNothing could be done without a reference to Elizabeth: but her\ninclination was growing so strong for a removal, that she was happy to\nhave it fixed and expedited by a tenant at hand; and not a word to\nsuspend decision was uttered by her.\n\nMr Shepherd was completely empowered to act; and no sooner had such an\nend been reached, than Anne, who had been a most attentive listener to\nthe whole, left the room, to seek the comfort of cool air for her\nflushed cheeks; and as she walked along a favourite grove, said, with a\ngentle sigh, \"A few months more, and he, perhaps, may be walking here.\"\n\n\n\nChapter 4\n\n\nHe was not Mr Wentworth, the former curate of Monkford, however\nsuspicious appearances may be, but a Captain Frederick Wentworth, his\nbrother, who being made commander in consequence of the action off St\nDomingo, and not immediately employed, had come into Somersetshire, in\nthe summer of 1806; and having no parent living, found a home for half\na year at Monkford.  He was, at that time, a remarkably fine young man,\nwith a great deal of intelligence, spirit, and brilliancy; and Anne an\nextremely pretty girl, with gentleness, modesty, taste, and feeling.\nHalf the sum of attraction, on either side, might have been enough, for\nhe had nothing to do, and she had hardly anybody to love; but the\nencounter of such lavish recommendations could not fail.  They were\ngradually acquainted, and when acquainted, rapidly and deeply in love.\nIt would be difficult to say which had seen highest perfection in the\nother, or which had been the happiest: she, in receiving his\ndeclarations and proposals, or he in having them accepted.\n\nA short period of exquisite felicity followed, and but a short one.\nTroubles soon arose.  Sir Walter, on being applied to, without actually\nwithholding his consent, or saying it should never be, gave it all the\nnegative of great astonishment, great coldness, great silence, and a\nprofessed resolution of doing nothing for his daughter.  He thought it\na very degrading alliance; and Lady Russell, though with more tempered\nand pardonable pride, received it as a most unfortunate one.\n\nAnne Elliot, with all her claims of birth, beauty, and mind, to throw\nherself away at nineteen; involve herself at nineteen in an engagement\nwith a young man, who had nothing but himself to recommend him, and no\nhopes of attaining affluence, but in the chances of a most uncertain\nprofession, and no connexions to secure even his farther rise in the\nprofession, would be, indeed, a throwing away, which she grieved to\nthink of!  Anne Elliot, so young; known to so few, to be snatched off\nby a stranger without alliance or fortune; or rather sunk by him into a\nstate of most wearing, anxious, youth-killing dependence!  It must not\nbe, if by any fair interference of friendship, any representations from\none who had almost a mother's love, and mother's rights, it would be\nprevented.\n\nCaptain Wentworth had no fortune.  He had been lucky in his profession;\nbut spending freely, what had come freely, had realized nothing.  But\nhe was confident that he should soon be rich: full of life and ardour,\nhe knew that he should soon have a ship, and soon be on a station that\nwould lead to everything he wanted.  He had always been lucky; he knew\nhe should be so still.  Such confidence, powerful in its own warmth,\nand bewitching in the wit which often expressed it, must have been\nenough for Anne; but Lady Russell saw it very differently.  His\nsanguine temper, and fearlessness of mind, operated very differently on\nher.  She saw in it but an aggravation of the evil.  It only added a\ndangerous character to himself.  He was brilliant, he was headstrong.\nLady Russell had little taste for wit, and of anything approaching to\nimprudence a horror.  She deprecated the connexion in every light.\n\nSuch opposition, as these feelings produced, was more than Anne could\ncombat.  Young and gentle as she was, it might yet have been possible\nto withstand her father's ill-will, though unsoftened by one kind word\nor look on the part of her sister; but Lady Russell, whom she had\nalways loved and relied on, could not, with such steadiness of opinion,\nand such tenderness of manner, be continually advising her in vain.\nShe was persuaded to believe the engagement a wrong thing:  indiscreet,\nimproper, hardly capable of success, and not deserving it.  But it was\nnot a merely selfish caution, under which she acted, in putting an end\nto it.  Had she not imagined herself consulting his good, even more\nthan her own, she could hardly have given him up.  The belief of being\nprudent, and self-denying, principally for his advantage, was her chief\nconsolation, under the misery of a parting, a final parting; and every\nconsolation was required, for she had to encounter all the additional\npain of opinions, on his side, totally unconvinced and unbending, and\nof his feeling himself ill used by so forced a relinquishment.  He had\nleft the country in consequence.\n\nA few months had seen the beginning and the end of their acquaintance;\nbut not with a few months ended Anne's share of suffering from it.  Her\nattachment and regrets had, for a long time, clouded every enjoyment of\nyouth, and an early loss of bloom and spirits had been their lasting\neffect.\n\nMore than seven years were gone since this little history of sorrowful\ninterest had reached its close; and time had softened down much,\nperhaps nearly all of peculiar attachment to him, but she had been too\ndependent on time alone; no aid had been given in change of place\n(except in one visit to Bath soon after the rupture), or in any novelty\nor enlargement of society.  No one had ever come within the Kellynch\ncircle, who could bear a comparison with Frederick Wentworth, as he\nstood in her memory.  No second attachment, the only thoroughly\nnatural, happy, and sufficient cure, at her time of life, had been\npossible to the nice tone of her mind, the fastidiousness of her taste,\nin the small limits of the society around them.  She had been\nsolicited, when about two-and-twenty, to change her name, by the young\nman, who not long afterwards found a more willing mind in her younger\nsister; and Lady Russell had lamented her refusal; for Charles Musgrove\nwas the eldest son of a man, whose landed property and general\nimportance were second in that country, only to Sir Walter's, and of\ngood character and appearance; and however Lady Russell might have\nasked yet for something more, while Anne was nineteen, she would have\nrejoiced to see her at twenty-two so respectably removed from the\npartialities and injustice of her father's house, and settled so\npermanently near herself.  But in this case, Anne had left nothing for\nadvice to do; and though Lady Russell, as satisfied as ever with her\nown discretion, never wished the past undone, she began now to have the\nanxiety which borders on hopelessness for Anne's being tempted, by some\nman of talents and independence, to enter a state for which she held\nher to be peculiarly fitted by her warm affections and domestic habits.\n\nThey knew not each other's opinion, either its constancy or its change,\non the one leading point of Anne's conduct, for the subject was never\nalluded to; but Anne, at seven-and-twenty, thought very differently\nfrom what she had been made to think at nineteen.  She did not blame\nLady Russell, she did not blame herself for having been guided by her;\nbut she felt that were any young person, in similar circumstances, to\napply to her for counsel, they would never receive any of such certain\nimmediate wretchedness, such uncertain future good.  She was persuaded\nthat under every disadvantage of disapprobation at home, and every\nanxiety attending his profession, all their probable fears, delays, and\ndisappointments, she should yet have been a happier woman in\nmaintaining the engagement, than she had been in the sacrifice of it;\nand this, she fully believed, had the usual share, had even more than\nthe usual share of all such solicitudes and suspense been theirs,\nwithout reference to the actual results of their case, which, as it\nhappened, would have bestowed earlier prosperity than could be\nreasonably calculated on.  All his sanguine expectations, all his\nconfidence had been justified.  His genius and ardour had seemed to\nforesee and to command his prosperous path.  He had, very soon after\ntheir engagement ceased, got employ: and all that he had told her would\nfollow, had taken place.  He had distinguished himself, and early\ngained the other step in rank, and must now, by successive captures,\nhave made a handsome fortune.  She had only navy lists and newspapers\nfor her authority, but she could not doubt his being rich; and, in\nfavour of his constancy, she had no reason to believe him married.\n\nHow eloquent could Anne Elliot have been! how eloquent, at least, were\nher wishes on the side of early warm attachment, and a cheerful\nconfidence in futurity, against that over-anxious caution which seems\nto insult exertion and distrust Providence!  She had been forced into\nprudence in her youth, she learned romance as she grew older: the\nnatural sequel of an unnatural beginning.\n\nWith all these circumstances, recollections and feelings, she could not\nhear that Captain Wentworth's sister was likely to live at Kellynch\nwithout a revival of former pain; and many a stroll, and many a sigh,\nwere necessary to dispel the agitation of the idea.  She often told\nherself it was folly, before she could harden her nerves sufficiently\nto feel the continual discussion of the Crofts and their business no\nevil.  She was assisted, however, by that perfect indifference and\napparent unconsciousness, among the only three of her own friends in\nthe secret of the past, which seemed almost to deny any recollection of\nit.  She could do justice to the superiority of Lady Russell's motives\nin this, over those of her father and Elizabeth; she could honour all\nthe better feelings of her calmness; but the general air of oblivion\namong them was highly important from whatever it sprung; and in the\nevent of Admiral Croft's really taking Kellynch Hall, she rejoiced anew\nover the conviction which had always been most grateful to her, of the\npast being known to those three only among her connexions, by whom no\nsyllable, she believed, would ever be whispered, and in the trust that\namong his, the brother only with whom he had been residing, had\nreceived any information of their short-lived engagement.  That brother\nhad been long removed from the country and being a sensible man, and,\nmoreover, a single man at the time, she had a fond dependence on no\nhuman creature's having heard of it from him.\n\nThe sister, Mrs Croft, had then been out of England, accompanying her\nhusband on a foreign station, and her own sister, Mary, had been at\nschool while it all occurred; and never admitted by the pride of some,\nand the delicacy of others, to the smallest knowledge of it afterwards.\n\nWith these supports, she hoped that the acquaintance between herself\nand the Crofts, which, with Lady Russell, still resident in Kellynch,\nand Mary fixed only three miles off, must be anticipated, need not\ninvolve any particular awkwardness.\n\n\n\nChapter 5\n\n\nOn the morning appointed for Admiral and Mrs Croft's seeing Kellynch\nHall, Anne found it most natural to take her almost daily walk to Lady\nRussell's, and keep out of the way till all was over; when she found it\nmost natural to be sorry that she had missed the opportunity of seeing\nthem.\n\nThis meeting of the two parties proved highly satisfactory, and decided\nthe whole business at once.  Each lady was previously well disposed for\nan agreement, and saw nothing, therefore, but good manners in the\nother; and with regard to the gentlemen, there was such an hearty good\nhumour, such an open, trusting liberality on the Admiral's side, as\ncould not but influence Sir Walter, who had besides been flattered into\nhis very best and most polished behaviour by Mr Shepherd's assurances\nof his being known, by report, to the Admiral, as a model of good\nbreeding.\n\nThe house and grounds, and furniture, were approved, the Crofts were\napproved, terms, time, every thing, and every body, was right; and Mr\nShepherd's clerks were set to work, without there having been a single\npreliminary difference to modify of all that \"This indenture sheweth.\"\n\nSir Walter, without hesitation, declared the Admiral to be the\nbest-looking sailor he had ever met with, and went so far as to say,\nthat if his own man might have had the arranging of his hair, he should\nnot be ashamed of being seen with him any where; and the Admiral, with\nsympathetic cordiality, observed to his wife as they drove back through\nthe park, \"I thought we should soon come to a deal, my dear, in spite\nof what they told us at Taunton.  The Baronet will never set the Thames\non fire, but there seems to be no harm in him.\"--reciprocal\ncompliments, which would have been esteemed about equal.\n\nThe Crofts were to have possession at Michaelmas; and as Sir Walter\nproposed removing to Bath in the course of the preceding month, there\nwas no time to be lost in making every dependent arrangement.\n\nLady Russell, convinced that Anne would not be allowed to be of any\nuse, or any importance, in the choice of the house which they were\ngoing to secure, was very unwilling to have her hurried away so soon,\nand wanted to make it possible for her to stay behind till she might\nconvey her to Bath herself after Christmas; but having engagements of\nher own which must take her from Kellynch for several weeks, she was\nunable to give the full invitation she wished, and Anne though dreading\nthe possible heats of September in all the white glare of Bath, and\ngrieving to forego all the influence so sweet and so sad of the\nautumnal months in the country, did not think that, everything\nconsidered, she wished to remain.  It would be most right, and most\nwise, and, therefore must involve least suffering to go with the others.\n\nSomething occurred, however, to give her a different duty.  Mary, often\na little unwell, and always thinking a great deal of her own\ncomplaints, and always in the habit of claiming Anne when anything was\nthe matter, was indisposed; and foreseeing that she should not have a\nday's health all the autumn, entreated, or rather required her, for it\nwas hardly entreaty, to come to Uppercross Cottage, and bear her\ncompany as long as she should want her, instead of going to Bath.\n\n\"I cannot possibly do without Anne,\" was Mary's reasoning; and\nElizabeth's reply was, \"Then I am sure Anne had better stay, for nobody\nwill want her in Bath.\"\n\nTo be claimed as a good, though in an improper style, is at least\nbetter than being rejected as no good at all; and Anne, glad to be\nthought of some use, glad to have anything marked out as a duty, and\ncertainly not sorry to have the scene of it in the country, and her own\ndear country, readily agreed to stay.\n\nThis invitation of Mary's removed all Lady Russell's difficulties, and\nit was consequently soon settled that Anne should not go to Bath till\nLady Russell took her, and that all the intervening time should be\ndivided between Uppercross Cottage and Kellynch Lodge.\n\nSo far all was perfectly right; but Lady Russell was almost startled by\nthe wrong of one part of the Kellynch Hall plan, when it burst on her,\nwhich was, Mrs Clay's being engaged to go to Bath with Sir Walter and\nElizabeth, as a most important and valuable assistant to the latter in\nall the business before her.  Lady Russell was extremely sorry that\nsuch a measure should have been resorted to at all, wondered, grieved,\nand feared; and the affront it contained to Anne, in Mrs Clay's being\nof so much use, while Anne could be of none, was a very sore\naggravation.\n\nAnne herself was become hardened to such affronts; but she felt the\nimprudence of the arrangement quite as keenly as Lady Russell.  With a\ngreat deal of quiet observation, and a knowledge, which she often\nwished less, of her father's character, she was sensible that results\nthe most serious to his family from the intimacy were more than\npossible.  She did not imagine that her father had at present an idea\nof the kind.  Mrs Clay had freckles, and a projecting tooth, and a\nclumsy wrist, which he was continually making severe remarks upon, in\nher absence; but she was young, and certainly altogether well-looking,\nand possessed, in an acute mind and assiduous pleasing manners,\ninfinitely more dangerous attractions than any merely personal might\nhave been.  Anne was so impressed by the degree of their danger, that\nshe could not excuse herself from trying to make it perceptible to her\nsister.  She had little hope of success; but Elizabeth, who in the\nevent of such a reverse would be so much more to be pitied than\nherself, should never, she thought, have reason to reproach her for\ngiving no warning.\n\nShe spoke, and seemed only to offend.  Elizabeth could not conceive how\nsuch an absurd suspicion should occur to her, and indignantly answered\nfor each party's perfectly knowing their situation.\n\n\"Mrs Clay,\" said she, warmly, \"never forgets who she is; and as I am\nrather better acquainted with her sentiments than you can be, I can\nassure you, that upon the subject of marriage they are particularly\nnice, and that she reprobates all inequality of condition and rank more\nstrongly than most people.  And as to my father, I really should not\nhave thought that he, who has kept himself single so long for our\nsakes, need be suspected now.  If Mrs Clay were a very beautiful woman,\nI grant you, it might be wrong to have her so much with me; not that\nanything in the world, I am sure, would induce my father to make a\ndegrading match, but he might be rendered unhappy.  But poor Mrs Clay\nwho, with all her merits, can never have been reckoned tolerably\npretty, I really think poor Mrs Clay may be staying here in perfect\nsafety.  One would imagine you had never heard my father speak of her\npersonal misfortunes, though I know you must fifty times.  That tooth\nof her's and those freckles.  Freckles do not disgust me so very much\nas they do him.  I have known a face not materially disfigured by a\nfew, but he abominates them.  You must have heard him notice Mrs Clay's\nfreckles.\"\n\n\"There is hardly any personal defect,\" replied Anne, \"which an\nagreeable manner might not gradually reconcile one to.\"\n\n\"I think very differently,\" answered Elizabeth, shortly; \"an agreeable\nmanner may set off handsome features, but can never alter plain ones.\nHowever, at any rate, as I have a great deal more at stake on this\npoint than anybody else can have, I think it rather unnecessary in you\nto be advising me.\"\n\nAnne had done; glad that it was over, and not absolutely hopeless of\ndoing good.  Elizabeth, though resenting the suspicion, might yet be\nmade observant by it.\n\nThe last office of the four carriage-horses was to draw Sir Walter,\nMiss Elliot, and Mrs Clay to Bath. The party drove off in very good\nspirits; Sir Walter prepared with condescending bows for all the\nafflicted tenantry and cottagers who might have had a hint to show\nthemselves, and Anne walked up at the same time, in a sort of desolate\ntranquillity, to the Lodge, where she was to spend the first week.\n\nHer friend was not in better spirits than herself. Lady Russell felt\nthis break-up of the family exceedingly.  Their respectability was as\ndear to her as her own, and a daily intercourse had become precious by\nhabit.  It was painful to look upon their deserted grounds, and still\nworse to anticipate the new hands they were to fall into; and to escape\nthe solitariness and the melancholy of so altered a village, and be out\nof the way when Admiral and Mrs Croft first arrived, she had determined\nto make her own absence from home begin when she must give up Anne.\nAccordingly their removal was made together, and Anne was set down at\nUppercross Cottage, in the first stage of Lady Russell's journey.\n\nUppercross was a moderate-sized village, which a few years back had\nbeen completely in the old English style, containing only two houses\nsuperior in appearance to those of the yeomen and labourers; the\nmansion of the squire, with its high walls, great gates, and old trees,\nsubstantial and unmodernized, and the compact, tight parsonage,\nenclosed in its own neat garden, with a vine and a pear-tree trained\nround its casements; but upon the marriage of the young 'squire, it had\nreceived the improvement of a farm-house elevated into a cottage, for\nhis residence, and Uppercross Cottage, with its veranda, French\nwindows, and other prettiness, was quite as likely to catch the\ntraveller's eye as the more consistent and considerable aspect and\npremises of the Great House, about a quarter of a mile farther on.\n\nHere Anne had often been staying. She knew the ways of Uppercross as\nwell as those of Kellynch. The two families were so continually\nmeeting, so much in the habit of running in and out of each other's\nhouse at all hours, that it was rather a surprise to her to find Mary\nalone; but being alone, her being unwell and out of spirits was almost\na matter of course. Though better endowed than the elder sister, Mary\nhad not Anne's understanding nor temper. While well, and happy, and\nproperly attended to, she had great good humour and excellent spirits;\nbut any indisposition sunk her completely. She had no resources for\nsolitude; and inheriting a considerable share of the Elliot\nself-importance, was very prone to add to every other distress that of\nfancying herself neglected and ill-used. In person, she was inferior to\nboth sisters, and had, even in her bloom, only reached the dignity of\nbeing \"a fine girl.\" She was now lying on the faded sofa of the pretty\nlittle drawing-room, the once elegant furniture of which had been\ngradually growing shabby, under the influence of four summers and two\nchildren; and, on Anne's appearing, greeted her with--\n\n\"So, you are come at last!  I began to think I should never see you.  I\nam so ill I can hardly speak.  I have not seen a creature the whole\nmorning!\"\n\n\"I am sorry to find you unwell,\" replied Anne.  \"You sent me such a\ngood account of yourself on Thursday!\"\n\n\"Yes, I made the best of it; I always do:  but I was very far from well\nat the time; and I do not think I ever was so ill in my life as I have\nbeen all this morning:  very unfit to be left alone, I am sure.\nSuppose I were to be seized of a sudden in some dreadful way, and not\nable to ring the bell!  So, Lady Russell would not get out.  I do not\nthink she has been in this house three times this summer.\"\n\nAnne said what was proper, and enquired after her husband.  \"Oh!\nCharles is out shooting.  I have not seen him since seven o'clock.  He\nwould go, though I told him how ill I was.  He said he should not stay\nout long; but he has never come back, and now it is almost one.  I\nassure you, I have not seen a soul this whole long morning.\"\n\n\"You have had your little boys with you?\"\n\n\"Yes, as long as I could bear their noise; but they are so unmanageable\nthat they do me more harm than good.  Little Charles does not mind a\nword I say, and Walter is growing quite as bad.\"\n\n\"Well, you will soon be better now,\" replied Anne, cheerfully.  \"You\nknow I always cure you when I come.  How are your neighbours at the\nGreat House?\"\n\n\"I can give you no account of them.  I have not seen one of them\nto-day, except Mr Musgrove, who just stopped and spoke through the\nwindow, but without getting off his horse; and though I told him how\nill I was, not one of them have been near me.  It did not happen to\nsuit the Miss Musgroves, I suppose, and they never put themselves out\nof their way.\"\n\n\"You will see them yet, perhaps, before the morning is gone.  It is\nearly.\"\n\n\"I never want them, I assure you.  They talk and laugh a great deal too\nmuch for me.  Oh! Anne, I am so very unwell!  It was quite unkind of\nyou not to come on Thursday.\"\n\n\"My dear Mary, recollect what a comfortable account you sent me of\nyourself!  You wrote in the cheerfullest manner, and said you were\nperfectly well, and in no hurry for me; and that being the case, you\nmust be aware that my wish would be to remain with Lady Russell to the\nlast: and besides what I felt on her account, I have really been so\nbusy, have had so much to do, that I could not very conveniently have\nleft Kellynch sooner.\"\n\n\"Dear me! what can you possibly have to do?\"\n\n\"A great many things, I assure you.  More than I can recollect in a\nmoment; but I can tell you some.  I have been making a duplicate of the\ncatalogue of my father's books and pictures.  I have been several times\nin the garden with Mackenzie, trying to understand, and make him\nunderstand, which of Elizabeth's plants are for Lady Russell.  I have\nhad all my own little concerns to arrange, books and music to divide,\nand all my trunks to repack, from not having understood in time what\nwas intended as to the waggons: and one thing I have had to do, Mary,\nof a more trying nature: going to almost every house in the parish, as\na sort of take-leave.  I was told that they wished it.  But all these\nthings took up a great deal of time.\"\n\n\"Oh! well!\" and after a moment's pause, \"but you have never asked me\none word about our dinner at the Pooles yesterday.\"\n\n\"Did you go then?  I have made no enquiries, because I concluded you\nmust have been obliged to give up the party.\"\n\n\"Oh yes! I went.  I was very well yesterday; nothing at all the matter\nwith me till this morning.  It would have been strange if I had not\ngone.\"\n\n\"I am very glad you were well enough, and I hope you had a pleasant\nparty.\"\n\n\"Nothing remarkable.  One always knows beforehand what the dinner will\nbe, and who will be there; and it is so very uncomfortable not having a\ncarriage of one's own.  Mr and Mrs Musgrove took me, and we were so\ncrowded!  They are both so very large, and take up so much room; and Mr\nMusgrove always sits forward.  So, there was I, crowded into the back\nseat with Henrietta and Louisa; and I think it very likely that my\nillness to-day may be owing to it.\"\n\nA little further perseverance in patience and forced cheerfulness on\nAnne's side produced nearly a cure on Mary's.  She could soon sit\nupright on the sofa, and began to hope she might be able to leave it by\ndinner-time.  Then, forgetting to think of it, she was at the other end\nof the room, beautifying a nosegay; then, she ate her cold meat; and\nthen she was well enough to propose a little walk.\n\n\"Where shall we go?\" said she, when they were ready.  \"I suppose you\nwill not like to call at the Great House before they have been to see\nyou?\"\n\n\"I have not the smallest objection on that account,\" replied Anne.  \"I\nshould never think of standing on such ceremony with people I know so\nwell as Mrs and the Miss Musgroves.\"\n\n\"Oh! but they ought to call upon you as soon as possible.  They ought\nto feel what is due to you as my sister.  However, we may as well go\nand sit with them a little  while, and when we have that over, we can\nenjoy our walk.\"\n\nAnne had always thought such a style of intercourse highly imprudent;\nbut she had ceased to endeavour to check it, from believing that,\nthough there were on each side continual subjects of offence, neither\nfamily could now do without it.  To the Great House accordingly they\nwent, to sit the full half hour in the old-fashioned square parlour,\nwith a small carpet and shining floor, to which the present daughters\nof the house were gradually giving the proper air of confusion by a\ngrand piano-forte and a harp, flower-stands and little tables placed in\nevery direction.  Oh! could the originals of the portraits against the\nwainscot, could the gentlemen in brown velvet and the ladies in blue\nsatin have seen what was going on, have been conscious of such an\noverthrow of all order and neatness!  The portraits themselves seemed\nto be staring in astonishment.\n\nThe Musgroves, like their houses, were in a state of alteration,\nperhaps of improvement.  The father and mother were in the old English\nstyle, and the young people in the new.  Mr and Mrs Musgrove were a\nvery good sort of people; friendly and hospitable, not much educated,\nand not at all elegant.  Their children had more modern minds and\nmanners.  There was a numerous family; but the only two grown up,\nexcepting Charles, were Henrietta and Louisa, young ladies of nineteen\nand twenty, who had brought from school at Exeter all the usual stock\nof accomplishments, and were now like thousands of other young ladies,\nliving to be fashionable, happy, and merry.  Their dress had every\nadvantage, their faces were rather pretty, their spirits extremely\ngood, their manner unembarrassed and pleasant; they were of consequence\nat home, and favourites abroad.  Anne always contemplated them as some\nof the happiest creatures of her acquaintance; but still, saved as we\nall are, by some comfortable feeling of superiority from wishing for\nthe possibility of exchange, she would not have given up her own more\nelegant and cultivated mind for all their enjoyments; and envied them\nnothing but that seemingly perfect good understanding and agreement\ntogether, that good-humoured mutual affection, of which she had known\nso little herself with either of her sisters.\n\nThey were received with great cordiality.  Nothing seemed amiss on the\nside of the Great House family, which was generally, as Anne very well\nknew, the least to blame.  The half hour was chatted away pleasantly\nenough; and she was not at all surprised, at the end of it, to have\ntheir walking party joined by both the Miss Musgroves, at Mary's\nparticular invitation.\n\n\n\nChapter 6\n\n\nAnne had not wanted this visit to Uppercross, to learn that a removal\nfrom one set of people to another, though at a distance of only three\nmiles, will often include a total change of conversation, opinion, and\nidea.  She had never been staying there before, without being struck by\nit, or without wishing that other Elliots could have her advantage in\nseeing how unknown, or unconsidered there, were the affairs which at\nKellynch Hall were treated as of such general publicity and pervading\ninterest; yet, with all this experience, she believed she must now\nsubmit to feel that another lesson, in the art of knowing our own\nnothingness beyond our own circle, was become necessary for her; for\ncertainly, coming as she did, with a heart full of the subject which\nhad been completely occupying both houses in Kellynch for many weeks,\nshe had expected rather more curiosity and sympathy than she found in\nthe separate but very similar remark of Mr and Mrs Musgrove: \"So, Miss\nAnne, Sir Walter and your sister are gone; and what part of Bath do you\nthink they will settle in?\" and this, without much waiting for an\nanswer; or in the young ladies' addition of, \"I hope we shall be in\nBath in the winter; but remember, papa, if we do go, we must be in a\ngood situation:  none of your Queen Squares for us!\" or in the anxious\nsupplement from Mary, of--\"Upon my word, I shall be pretty well off,\nwhen you are all gone away to be happy at Bath!\"\n\nShe could only resolve to avoid such self-delusion in future, and think\nwith heightened gratitude of the extraordinary blessing of having one\nsuch truly sympathising friend as Lady Russell.\n\nThe Mr Musgroves had their own game to guard, and to destroy, their own\nhorses, dogs, and newspapers to engage them, and the females were fully\noccupied in all the other common subjects of housekeeping, neighbours,\ndress, dancing, and music.  She acknowledged it to be very fitting,\nthat every little social commonwealth should dictate its own matters of\ndiscourse; and hoped, ere long, to become a not unworthy member of the\none she was now transplanted into.  With the prospect of spending at\nleast two months at Uppercross, it was highly incumbent on her to\nclothe her imagination, her memory, and all her ideas in as much of\nUppercross as possible.\n\nShe had no dread of these two months.  Mary was not so repulsive and\nunsisterly as Elizabeth, nor so inaccessible to all influence of hers;\nneither was there anything among the other component parts of the\ncottage inimical to comfort.  She was always on friendly terms with her\nbrother-in-law; and in the children, who loved her nearly as well, and\nrespected her a great deal more than their mother, she had an object of\ninterest, amusement, and wholesome exertion.\n\nCharles Musgrove was civil and agreeable; in sense and temper he was\nundoubtedly superior to his wife, but not of powers, or conversation,\nor grace, to make the past, as they were connected together, at all a\ndangerous contemplation; though, at the same time, Anne could believe,\nwith Lady Russell, that a more equal match might have greatly improved\nhim; and that a woman of real understanding might have given more\nconsequence to his character, and more usefulness, rationality, and\nelegance to his habits and pursuits.  As it was, he did nothing with\nmuch zeal, but sport; and his time was otherwise trifled away, without\nbenefit from books or anything else.  He had very good spirits, which\nnever seemed much affected by his wife's occasional lowness, bore with\nher unreasonableness sometimes to Anne's admiration, and upon the\nwhole, though there was very often a little disagreement (in which she\nhad sometimes more share than she wished, being appealed to by both\nparties), they might pass for a happy couple.  They were always\nperfectly agreed in the want of more money, and a strong inclination\nfor a handsome present from his father; but here, as on most topics, he\nhad the superiority, for while Mary thought it a great shame that such\na present was not made, he always contended for his father's having\nmany other uses for his money, and a right to spend it as he liked.\n\nAs to the management of their children, his theory was much better than\nhis wife's, and his practice not so bad.  \"I could manage them very\nwell, if it were not for Mary's interference,\" was what Anne often\nheard him say, and had a good deal of faith in; but when listening in\nturn to Mary's reproach of \"Charles spoils the children so that I\ncannot get them into any order,\" she never had the smallest temptation\nto say, \"Very true.\"\n\nOne of the least agreeable circumstances of her residence there was her\nbeing treated with too much confidence by all parties, and being too\nmuch in the secret of the complaints of each house.  Known to have some\ninfluence with her sister, she was continually requested, or at least\nreceiving hints to exert it, beyond what was practicable.  \"I wish you\ncould persuade Mary not to be always fancying herself ill,\" was\nCharles's language; and, in an unhappy mood, thus spoke Mary: \"I do\nbelieve if Charles were to see me dying, he would not think there was\nanything the matter with me.  I am sure, Anne, if you would, you might\npersuade him that I really am very ill--a great deal worse than I ever\nown.\"\n\nMary's declaration was, \"I hate sending the children to the Great\nHouse, though their grandmamma is always wanting to see them, for she\nhumours and indulges them to such a degree, and gives them so much\ntrash and sweet things, that they are sure to come back sick and cross\nfor the rest of the day.\"  And Mrs Musgrove took the first opportunity\nof being alone with Anne, to say, \"Oh! Miss Anne, I cannot help wishing\nMrs Charles had a little of your method with those children.  They are\nquite different creatures with you!  But to be sure, in general they\nare so spoilt!  It is a pity you cannot put your sister in the way of\nmanaging them.  They are as fine healthy children as ever were seen,\npoor little dears! without partiality; but Mrs Charles knows no more\nhow they should be treated--!  Bless me! how troublesome they are\nsometimes.  I assure you, Miss Anne, it prevents my wishing to see them\nat our house so often as I otherwise should.  I believe Mrs Charles is\nnot quite pleased with my not inviting them oftener; but you know it is\nvery bad to have children with one that one is obligated to be checking\nevery moment; \"don't do this,\" and \"don't do that;\" or that one can\nonly keep in tolerable order by more cake than is good for them.\"\n\nShe had this communication, moreover, from Mary.  \"Mrs Musgrove thinks\nall her servants so steady, that it would be high treason to call it in\nquestion; but I am sure, without exaggeration, that her upper\nhouse-maid and laundry-maid, instead of being in their business, are\ngadding about the village, all day long.  I meet them wherever I go;\nand I declare, I never go twice into my nursery without seeing\nsomething of them.  If Jemima were not the trustiest, steadiest\ncreature in the world, it would be enough to spoil her; for she tells\nme, they are always tempting her to take a walk with them.\" And on Mrs\nMusgrove's side, it was, \"I make a rule of never interfering in any of\nmy daughter-in-law's concerns, for I know it would not do; but I shall\ntell you, Miss Anne, because you may be able to set things to rights,\nthat I have no very good opinion of Mrs Charles's nursery-maid: I hear\nstrange stories of her; she is always upon the gad; and from my own\nknowledge, I can declare, she is such a fine-dressing lady, that she is\nenough to ruin any servants she comes near.  Mrs Charles quite swears\nby her, I know; but I just give you this hint, that you may be upon the\nwatch; because, if you see anything amiss, you need not be afraid of\nmentioning it.\"\n\nAgain, it was Mary's complaint, that Mrs Musgrove was very apt not to\ngive her the precedence that was her due, when they dined at the Great\nHouse with other families; and she did not see any reason why she was\nto be considered so much at home as to lose her place.  And one day\nwhen Anne was walking with only the Musgroves, one of them after\ntalking of rank, people of rank, and jealousy of rank, said, \"I have no\nscruple of observing to you, how nonsensical some persons are about\ntheir place, because all the world knows how easy and indifferent you\nare about it; but I wish anybody could give Mary a hint that it would\nbe a great deal better if she were not so very tenacious, especially if\nshe would not be always putting herself forward to take place of mamma.\nNobody doubts her right to have precedence of mamma, but it would be\nmore becoming in her not to be always insisting on it.  It is not that\nmamma cares about it the least in the world, but I know it is taken\nnotice of by many persons.\"\n\nHow was Anne to set all these matters to rights?  She could do little\nmore than listen patiently, soften every grievance, and excuse each to\nthe other; give them all hints of the forbearance necessary between\nsuch near neighbours, and make those hints broadest which were meant\nfor her sister's benefit.\n\nIn all other respects, her visit began and proceeded very well.  Her\nown spirits improved by change of place and subject, by being removed\nthree miles from Kellynch; Mary's ailments lessened by having a\nconstant companion, and their daily intercourse with the other family,\nsince there was neither superior affection, confidence, nor employment\nin the cottage, to be interrupted by it, was rather an advantage.  It\nwas certainly carried nearly as far as possible, for they met every\nmorning, and hardly ever spent an evening asunder; but she believed\nthey should not have done so well without the sight of Mr and Mrs\nMusgrove's respectable forms in the usual places, or without the\ntalking, laughing, and singing of their daughters.\n\nShe played a great deal better than either of the Miss Musgroves, but\nhaving no voice, no knowledge of the harp, and no fond parents, to sit\nby and fancy themselves delighted, her performance was little thought\nof, only out of civility, or to refresh the others, as she was well\naware.  She knew that when she played she was giving pleasure only to\nherself; but this was no new sensation.  Excepting one short period of\nher life, she had never, since the age of fourteen, never since the\nloss of her dear mother, known the happiness of being listened to, or\nencouraged by any just appreciation or real taste.  In music she had\nbeen always used to feel alone in the world; and Mr and Mrs Musgrove's\nfond partiality for their own daughters' performance, and total\nindifference to any other person's, gave her much more pleasure for\ntheir sakes, than mortification for her own.\n\nThe party at the Great House was sometimes increased by other company.\nThe neighbourhood was not large, but the Musgroves were visited by\neverybody, and had more dinner-parties, and more callers, more visitors\nby invitation and by chance, than any other family.  They were more\ncompletely popular.\n\nThe girls were wild for dancing; and the evenings ended, occasionally,\nin an unpremeditated little ball.  There was a family of cousins within\na walk of Uppercross, in less affluent circumstances, who depended on\nthe Musgroves for all their pleasures:  they would come at any time,\nand help play at anything, or dance anywhere; and Anne, very much\npreferring the office of musician to a more active post, played country\ndances to them by the hour together; a kindness which always\nrecommended her musical powers to the notice of Mr and Mrs Musgrove\nmore than anything else, and often drew this compliment;--\"Well done,\nMiss Anne! very well done indeed!  Lord bless me!  how those little\nfingers of yours fly about!\"\n\nSo passed the first three weeks.  Michaelmas came; and now Anne's heart\nmust be in Kellynch again.  A beloved home made over to others; all the\nprecious rooms and furniture, groves, and prospects, beginning to own\nother eyes and other limbs!  She could not think of much else on the\n29th of September; and she had this sympathetic touch in the evening\nfrom Mary, who, on having occasion to note down the day of the month,\nexclaimed, \"Dear me, is not this the day the Crofts were to come to\nKellynch?  I am glad I did not think of it before.  How low it makes\nme!\"\n\nThe Crofts took possession with true naval alertness, and were to be\nvisited.  Mary deplored the necessity for herself.  \"Nobody knew how\nmuch she should suffer.  She should put it off as long as she could;\"\nbut was not easy till she had talked Charles into driving her over on\nan early day, and was in a very animated, comfortable state of\nimaginary agitation, when she came back.  Anne had very sincerely\nrejoiced in there being no means of her going.  She wished, however to\nsee the Crofts, and was glad to be within when the visit was returned.\nThey came:  the master of the house was not at home, but the two\nsisters were together; and as it chanced that Mrs Croft fell to the\nshare of Anne, while the Admiral sat by Mary, and made himself very\nagreeable by his good-humoured notice of her little boys, she was well\nable to watch for a likeness, and if it failed her in the features, to\ncatch it in the voice, or in the turn of sentiment and expression.\n\nMrs Croft, though neither tall nor fat, had a squareness, uprightness,\nand vigour of form, which gave importance to her person.  She had\nbright dark eyes, good teeth, and altogether an agreeable face; though\nher reddened and weather-beaten complexion, the consequence of her\nhaving been almost as much at sea as her husband, made her seem to have\nlived some years longer in the world than her real eight-and-thirty.\nHer manners were open, easy, and decided, like one who had no distrust\nof herself, and no doubts of what to do; without any approach to\ncoarseness, however, or any want of good humour.  Anne gave her credit,\nindeed, for feelings of great consideration towards herself, in all\nthat related to Kellynch, and it pleased her: especially, as she had\nsatisfied herself in the very first half minute, in the instant even of\nintroduction, that there was not the smallest symptom of any knowledge\nor suspicion on Mrs Croft's side, to give a bias of any sort.  She was\nquite easy on that head, and consequently full of strength and courage,\ntill for a moment electrified by Mrs Croft's suddenly saying,--\n\n\"It was you, and not your sister, I find, that my brother had the\npleasure of being acquainted with, when he was in this country.\"\n\nAnne hoped she had outlived the age of blushing; but the age of emotion\nshe certainly had not.\n\n\"Perhaps you may not have heard that he is married?\" added Mrs Croft.\n\nShe could now answer as she ought; and was happy to feel, when Mrs\nCroft's next words explained it to be Mr Wentworth of whom she spoke,\nthat she had said nothing which might not do for either brother. She\nimmediately felt how reasonable it was, that Mrs Croft should be\nthinking and speaking of Edward, and not of Frederick; and with shame\nat her own forgetfulness applied herself to the knowledge of their\nformer neighbour's present state with proper interest.\n\nThe rest was all tranquillity; till, just as they were moving, she\nheard the Admiral say to Mary--\n\n\"We are expecting a brother of Mrs Croft's here soon; I dare say you\nknow him by name.\"\n\nHe was cut short by the eager attacks of the little boys, clinging to\nhim like an old friend, and declaring he should not go; and being too\nmuch engrossed by proposals of carrying them away in his coat pockets,\n&c., to have another moment for finishing or recollecting what he had\nbegun, Anne was left to persuade herself, as well as she could, that\nthe same brother must still be in question.  She could not, however,\nreach such a degree of certainty, as not to be anxious to hear whether\nanything had been said on the subject at the other house, where the\nCrofts had previously been calling.\n\nThe folks of the Great House were to spend the evening of this day at\nthe Cottage; and it being now too late in the year for such visits to\nbe made on foot, the coach was beginning to be listened for, when the\nyoungest Miss Musgrove walked in.  That she was coming to apologize,\nand that they should have to spend the evening by themselves, was the\nfirst black idea; and Mary was quite ready to be affronted, when Louisa\nmade all right by saying, that she only came on foot, to leave more\nroom for the harp, which was bringing in the carriage.\n\n\"And I will tell you our reason,\" she added, \"and all about it.  I am\ncome on to give you notice, that papa and mamma are out of spirits this\nevening, especially mamma; she is thinking so much of poor Richard!\nAnd we agreed it would be best to have the harp, for it seems to amuse\nher more than the piano-forte.  I will tell you why she is out of\nspirits.  When the Crofts called this morning, (they called here\nafterwards, did not they?), they happened to say, that her brother,\nCaptain Wentworth, is just returned to England, or paid off, or\nsomething, and is coming to see them almost directly; and most\nunluckily it came into mamma's head, when they were gone, that\nWentworth, or something very like it, was the name of poor Richard's\ncaptain at one time; I do not know when or where, but a great while\nbefore he died, poor fellow!  And upon looking over his letters and\nthings, she found it was so, and is perfectly sure that this must be\nthe very man, and her head is quite full of it, and of poor Richard!\nSo we must be as merry as we can, that she may not be dwelling upon\nsuch gloomy things.\"\n\nThe real circumstances of this pathetic piece of family history were,\nthat the Musgroves had had the ill fortune of a very troublesome,\nhopeless son; and the good fortune to lose him before he reached his\ntwentieth year; that he had been sent to sea because he was stupid and\nunmanageable on shore; that he had been very little cared for at any\ntime by his family, though quite as much as he deserved; seldom heard\nof, and scarcely at all regretted, when the intelligence of his death\nabroad had worked its way to Uppercross, two years before.\n\nHe had, in fact, though his sisters were now doing all they could for\nhim, by calling him \"poor Richard,\" been nothing better than a\nthick-headed, unfeeling, unprofitable Dick Musgrove, who had never done\nanything to entitle himself to more than the abbreviation of his name,\nliving or dead.\n\nHe had been several years at sea, and had, in the course of those\nremovals to which all midshipmen are liable, and especially such\nmidshipmen as every captain wishes to get rid of, been six months on\nboard Captain Frederick Wentworth's frigate, the Laconia; and from the\nLaconia he had, under the influence of his captain, written the only\ntwo letters which his father and mother had ever received from him\nduring the whole of his absence; that is to say, the only two\ndisinterested letters; all the rest had been mere applications for\nmoney.\n\nIn each letter he had spoken well of his captain; but yet, so little\nwere they in the habit of attending to such matters, so unobservant and\nincurious were they as to the names of men or ships, that it had made\nscarcely any impression at the time; and that Mrs Musgrove should have\nbeen suddenly struck, this very day, with a recollection of the name of\nWentworth, as connected with her son, seemed one of those extraordinary\nbursts of mind which do sometimes occur.\n\nShe had gone to her letters, and found it all as she supposed; and the\nre-perusal of these letters, after so long an interval, her poor son\ngone for ever, and all the strength of his faults forgotten, had\naffected her spirits exceedingly, and thrown her into greater grief for\nhim than she had known on first hearing of his death.  Mr Musgrove was,\nin a lesser degree, affected likewise; and when they reached the\ncottage, they were evidently in want, first, of being listened to anew\non this subject, and afterwards, of all the relief which cheerful\ncompanions could give them.\n\nTo hear them talking so much of Captain Wentworth, repeating his name\nso often, puzzling over past years, and at last ascertaining that it\nmight, that it probably would, turn out to be the very same Captain\nWentworth whom they recollected meeting, once or twice, after their\ncoming back from Clifton--a very fine young man--but they could not say\nwhether it was seven or eight years ago, was a new sort of trial to\nAnne's nerves.  She found, however, that it was one to which she must\ninure herself.  Since he actually was expected in the country, she must\nteach herself to be insensible on such points.  And not only did it\nappear that he was expected, and speedily, but the Musgroves, in their\nwarm gratitude for the kindness he had shewn poor Dick, and very high\nrespect for his character, stamped as it was by poor Dick's having been\nsix months under his care, and mentioning him in strong, though not\nperfectly well-spelt praise, as \"a fine dashing felow, only two\nperticular about the schoolmaster,\" were bent on introducing\nthemselves, and seeking his acquaintance, as soon as they could hear of\nhis arrival.\n\nThe resolution of doing so helped to form the comfort of their evening.\n\n\n\nChapter 7\n\n\nA very few days more, and Captain Wentworth was known to be at\nKellynch, and Mr Musgrove had called on him, and come back warm in his\npraise, and he was engaged with the Crofts to dine at Uppercross, by\nthe end of another week.  It had been a great disappointment to Mr\nMusgrove to find that no earlier day could be fixed, so impatient was\nhe to shew his gratitude, by seeing Captain Wentworth under his own\nroof, and welcoming him to all that was strongest and best in his\ncellars.  But a week must pass; only a week, in Anne's reckoning, and\nthen, she supposed, they must meet; and soon she began to wish that she\ncould feel secure even for a week.\n\nCaptain Wentworth made a very early return to Mr Musgrove's civility,\nand she was all but calling there in the same half hour.  She and Mary\nwere actually setting forward for the Great House, where, as she\nafterwards learnt, they must inevitably have found him, when they were\nstopped by the eldest boy's being at that moment brought home in\nconsequence of a bad fall.  The child's situation put the visit\nentirely aside; but she could not hear of her escape with indifference,\neven in the midst of the serious anxiety which they afterwards felt on\nhis account.\n\nHis collar-bone was found to be dislocated, and such injury received in\nthe back, as roused the most alarming ideas.  It was an afternoon of\ndistress, and Anne had every thing to do at once; the apothecary to\nsend for, the father to have pursued and informed, the mother to\nsupport and keep from hysterics, the servants to control, the youngest\nchild to banish, and the poor suffering one to attend and soothe;\nbesides sending, as soon as she recollected it, proper notice to the\nother house, which brought her an accession rather of frightened,\nenquiring companions, than of very useful assistants.\n\nHer brother's return was the first comfort; he could take best care of\nhis wife; and the second blessing was the arrival of the apothecary.\nTill he came and had examined the child, their apprehensions were the\nworse for being vague; they suspected great injury, but knew not where;\nbut now the collar-bone was soon replaced, and though Mr Robinson felt\nand felt, and rubbed, and looked grave, and spoke low words both to the\nfather and the aunt, still they were all to hope the best, and to be\nable to part and eat their dinner in tolerable ease of mind; and then\nit was, just before they parted, that the two young aunts were able so\nfar to digress from their nephew's state, as to give the information of\nCaptain Wentworth's visit; staying five minutes behind their father and\nmother, to endeavour to express how perfectly delighted they were with\nhim, how much handsomer, how infinitely more agreeable they thought him\nthan any individual among their male acquaintance, who had been at all\na favourite before.  How glad they had been to hear papa invite him to\nstay dinner, how sorry when he said it was quite out of his power, and\nhow glad again when he had promised in reply to papa and mamma's\nfarther pressing invitations to come and dine with them on the\nmorrow--actually on the morrow; and he had promised it in so pleasant a\nmanner, as if he felt all the motive of their attention just as he\nought.  And in short, he had looked and said everything with such\nexquisite grace, that they could assure them all, their heads were both\nturned by him; and off they ran, quite as full of glee as of love, and\napparently more full of Captain Wentworth than of little Charles.\n\nThe same story and the same raptures were repeated, when the two girls\ncame with their father, through the gloom of the evening, to make\nenquiries; and Mr Musgrove, no longer under the first uneasiness about\nhis heir, could add his confirmation and praise, and hope there would\nbe now no occasion for putting Captain Wentworth off, and only be sorry\nto think that the cottage party, probably, would not like to leave the\nlittle boy, to give him the meeting.  \"Oh no; as to leaving the little\nboy,\" both father and mother were in much too strong and recent alarm\nto bear the thought; and Anne, in the joy of the escape, could not help\nadding her warm protestations to theirs.\n\nCharles Musgrove, indeed, afterwards, shewed more of inclination; \"the\nchild was going on so well, and he wished so much to be introduced to\nCaptain Wentworth, that, perhaps, he might join them in the evening; he\nwould not dine from home, but he might walk in for half an hour.\" But\nin this he was eagerly opposed by his wife, with \"Oh! no, indeed,\nCharles, I cannot bear to have you go away.  Only think if anything\nshould happen?\"\n\nThe child had a good night, and was going on well the next day.  It\nmust be a work of time to ascertain that no injury had been done to the\nspine; but Mr Robinson found nothing to increase alarm, and Charles\nMusgrove began, consequently, to feel no necessity for longer\nconfinement.  The child was to be kept in bed and amused as quietly as\npossible; but what was there for a father to do?  This was quite a\nfemale case, and it would be highly absurd in him, who could be of no\nuse at home, to shut himself up.  His father very much wished him to\nmeet Captain Wentworth, and there being no sufficient reason against\nit, he ought to go; and it ended in his making a bold, public\ndeclaration, when he came in from shooting, of his meaning to dress\ndirectly, and dine at the other house.\n\n\"Nothing can be going on better than the child,\" said he; \"so I told my\nfather, just now, that I would come, and he thought me quite right.\nYour sister being with you, my love, I have no scruple at all.  You\nwould not like to leave him yourself, but you see I can be of no use.\nAnne will send for me if anything is the matter.\"\n\nHusbands and wives generally understand when opposition will be vain.\nMary knew, from Charles's manner of speaking, that he was quite\ndetermined on going, and that it would be of no use to teaze him.  She\nsaid nothing, therefore, till he was out of the room, but as soon as\nthere was only Anne to hear--\n\n\"So you and I are to be left to shift by ourselves, with this poor sick\nchild; and not a creature coming near us all the evening!  I knew how\nit would be.  This is always my luck.  If there is anything\ndisagreeable going on men are always sure to get out of it, and Charles\nis as bad as any of them.  Very unfeeling!  I must say it is very\nunfeeling of him to be running away from his poor little boy.  Talks of\nhis being going on so well!  How does he know that he is going on well,\nor that there may not be a sudden change half an hour hence?  I did not\nthink Charles would have been so unfeeling.  So here he is to go away\nand enjoy himself, and because I am the poor mother, I am not to be\nallowed to stir; and yet, I am sure, I am more unfit than anybody else\nto be about the child.  My being the mother is the very reason why my\nfeelings should not be tried.  I am not at all equal to it.  You saw\nhow hysterical I was yesterday.\"\n\n\"But that was only the effect of the suddenness of your alarm--of the\nshock.  You will not be hysterical again.  I dare say we shall have\nnothing to distress us.  I perfectly understand Mr Robinson's\ndirections, and have no fears; and indeed, Mary, I cannot wonder at\nyour husband.  Nursing does not belong to a man; it is not his\nprovince.  A sick child is always the mother's property:  her own\nfeelings generally make it so.\"\n\n\"I hope I am as fond of my child as any mother, but I do not know that\nI am of any more use in the sick-room than Charles, for I cannot be\nalways scolding and teazing the poor child when it is ill; and you saw,\nthis morning, that if I told him to keep quiet, he was sure to begin\nkicking about.  I have not nerves for the sort of thing.\"\n\n\"But, could you be comfortable yourself, to be spending the whole\nevening away from the poor boy?\"\n\n\"Yes; you see his papa can, and why should not I?  Jemima is so\ncareful; and she could send us word every hour how he was.  I really\nthink Charles might as well have told his father we would all come.  I\nam not more alarmed about little Charles now than he is.  I was\ndreadfully alarmed yesterday, but the case is very different to-day.\"\n\n\"Well, if you do not think it too late to give notice for yourself,\nsuppose you were to go, as well as your husband.  Leave little Charles\nto my care.  Mr and Mrs Musgrove cannot think it wrong while I remain\nwith him.\"\n\n\"Are you serious?\" cried Mary, her eyes brightening.  \"Dear me!  that's\na very good thought, very good, indeed.  To be sure, I may just as well\ngo as not, for I am of no use at home--am I?  and it only harasses me.\nYou, who have not a mother's feelings, are a great deal the properest\nperson.  You can make little Charles do anything; he always minds you\nat a word.  It will be a great deal better than leaving him only with\nJemima.  Oh! I shall certainly go; I am sure I ought if I can, quite as\nmuch as Charles, for they want me excessively to be acquainted with\nCaptain Wentworth, and I know you do not mind being left alone.  An\nexcellent thought of yours, indeed, Anne.  I will go and tell Charles,\nand get ready directly.  You can send for us, you know, at a moment's\nnotice, if anything is the matter; but I dare say there will be nothing\nto alarm you.  I should not go, you may be sure, if I did not feel\nquite at ease about my dear child.\"\n\nThe next moment she was tapping at her husband's dressing-room door,\nand as Anne followed her up stairs, she was in time for the whole\nconversation, which began with Mary's saying, in a tone of great\nexultation--\n\n\"I mean to go with you, Charles, for I am of no more use at home than\nyou are.  If I were to shut myself up for ever with the child, I should\nnot be able to persuade him to do anything he did not like.  Anne will\nstay; Anne undertakes to stay at home and take care of him.  It is\nAnne's own proposal, and so I shall go with you, which will be a great\ndeal better, for I have not dined at the other house since Tuesday.\"\n\n\"This is very kind of Anne,\" was her husband's answer, \"and I should be\nvery glad to have you go; but it seems rather hard that she should be\nleft at home by herself, to nurse our sick child.\"\n\nAnne was now at hand to take up her own cause, and the sincerity of her\nmanner being soon sufficient to convince him, where conviction was at\nleast very agreeable, he had no farther scruples as to her being left\nto dine alone, though he still wanted her to join them in the evening,\nwhen the child might be at rest for the night, and kindly urged her to\nlet him come and fetch her, but she was quite unpersuadable; and this\nbeing the case, she had ere long the pleasure of seeing them set off\ntogether in high spirits.  They were gone, she hoped, to be happy,\nhowever oddly constructed such happiness might seem; as for herself,\nshe was left with as many sensations of comfort, as were, perhaps, ever\nlikely to be hers.  She knew herself to be of the first utility to the\nchild; and what was it to her if Frederick Wentworth were only half a\nmile distant, making himself agreeable to others?\n\nShe would have liked to know how he felt as to a meeting.  Perhaps\nindifferent, if indifference could exist under such circumstances.  He\nmust be either indifferent or unwilling.  Had he wished ever to see her\nagain, he need not have waited till this time; he would have done what\nshe could not but believe that in his place she should have done long\nago, when events had been early giving him the independence which alone\nhad been wanting.\n\nHer brother and sister came back delighted with their new acquaintance,\nand their visit in general.  There had been music, singing, talking,\nlaughing, all that was most agreeable; charming manners in Captain\nWentworth, no shyness or reserve; they seemed all to know each other\nperfectly, and he was coming the very next morning to shoot with\nCharles.  He was to come to breakfast, but not at the Cottage, though\nthat had been proposed at first; but then he had been pressed to come\nto the Great House instead, and he seemed afraid of being in Mrs\nCharles Musgrove's way, on account of the child, and therefore,\nsomehow, they hardly knew how, it ended in Charles's being to meet him\nto breakfast at his father's.\n\nAnne understood it.  He wished to avoid seeing her.  He had inquired\nafter her, she found, slightly, as might suit a former slight\nacquaintance, seeming to acknowledge such as she had acknowledged,\nactuated, perhaps, by the same view of escaping introduction when they\nwere to meet.\n\nThe morning hours of the Cottage were always later than those of the\nother house, and on the morrow the difference was so great that Mary\nand Anne were not more than beginning breakfast when Charles came in to\nsay that they were just setting off, that he was come for his dogs,\nthat his sisters were following with Captain Wentworth; his sisters\nmeaning to visit Mary and the child, and Captain Wentworth proposing\nalso to wait on her for a few minutes if not inconvenient; and though\nCharles had answered for the child's being in no such state as could\nmake it inconvenient, Captain Wentworth would not be satisfied without\nhis running on to give notice.\n\nMary, very much gratified by this attention, was delighted to receive\nhim, while a thousand feelings rushed on Anne, of which this was the\nmost consoling, that it would soon be over.  And it was soon over.  In\ntwo minutes after Charles's preparation, the others appeared; they were\nin the drawing-room.  Her eye half met Captain Wentworth's, a bow, a\ncurtsey passed; she heard his voice; he talked to Mary, said all that\nwas right, said something to the Miss Musgroves, enough to mark an easy\nfooting; the room seemed full, full of persons and voices, but a few\nminutes ended it.  Charles shewed himself at the window, all was ready,\ntheir visitor had bowed and was gone, the Miss Musgroves were gone too,\nsuddenly resolving to walk to the end of the village with the\nsportsmen:  the room was cleared, and Anne might finish her breakfast\nas she could.\n\n\"It is over! it is over!\" she repeated to herself again and again, in\nnervous gratitude.  \"The worst is over!\"\n\nMary talked, but she could not attend.  She had seen him.  They had\nmet.  They had been once more in the same room.\n\nSoon, however, she began to reason with herself, and try to be feeling\nless.  Eight years, almost eight years had passed, since all had been\ngiven up.  How absurd to be resuming the agitation which such an\ninterval had banished into distance and indistinctness!  What might not\neight years do?  Events of every description, changes, alienations,\nremovals--all, all must be comprised in it, and oblivion of the past--\nhow natural, how certain too!  It included nearly a third part of her\nown life.\n\nAlas! with all her reasoning, she found, that to retentive feelings\neight years may be little more than nothing.\n\nNow, how were his sentiments to be read?  Was this like wishing to\navoid her?  And the next moment she was hating herself for the folly\nwhich asked the question.\n\nOn one other question which perhaps her utmost wisdom might not have\nprevented, she was soon spared all suspense; for, after the Miss\nMusgroves had returned and finished their visit at the Cottage she had\nthis spontaneous information from Mary:--\n\n\"Captain Wentworth is not very gallant by you, Anne, though he was so\nattentive to me.  Henrietta asked him what he thought of you, when they\nwent away, and he said, 'You were so altered he should not have known\nyou again.'\"\n\nMary had no feelings to make her respect her sister's in a common way,\nbut she was perfectly unsuspicious of being inflicting any peculiar\nwound.\n\n\"Altered beyond his knowledge.\"  Anne fully submitted, in silent, deep\nmortification.  Doubtless it was so, and she could take no revenge, for\nhe was not altered, or not for the worse.  She had already acknowledged\nit to herself, and she could not think differently, let him think of\nher as he would.  No:  the years which had destroyed her youth and\nbloom had only given him a more glowing, manly, open look, in no\nrespect lessening his personal advantages.  She had seen the same\nFrederick Wentworth.\n\n\"So altered that he should not have known her again!\"  These were words\nwhich could not but dwell with her.  Yet she soon began to rejoice that\nshe had heard them.  They were of sobering tendency; they allayed\nagitation; they composed, and consequently must make her happier.\n\nFrederick Wentworth had used such words, or something like them, but\nwithout an idea that they would be carried round to her.  He had\nthought her wretchedly altered, and in the first moment of appeal, had\nspoken as he felt.  He had not forgiven Anne Elliot.  She had used him\nill, deserted and disappointed him; and worse, she had shewn a\nfeebleness of character in doing so, which his own decided, confident\ntemper could not endure.  She had given him up to oblige others.  It\nhad been the effect of over-persuasion.  It had been weakness and\ntimidity.\n\nHe had been most warmly attached to her, and had never seen a woman\nsince whom he thought her equal; but, except from some natural\nsensation of curiosity, he had no desire of meeting her again.  Her\npower with him was gone for ever.\n\nIt was now his object to marry.  He was rich, and being turned on\nshore, fully intended to settle as soon as he could be properly\ntempted; actually looking round, ready to fall in love with all the\nspeed which a clear head and a quick taste could allow.  He had a heart\nfor either of the Miss Musgroves, if they could catch it; a heart, in\nshort, for any pleasing young woman who came in his way, excepting Anne\nElliot.  This was his only secret exception, when he said to his\nsister, in answer to her suppositions:--\n\n\"Yes, here I am, Sophia, quite ready to make a foolish match.  Anybody\nbetween fifteen and thirty may have me for asking.  A little beauty,\nand a few smiles, and a few compliments to the navy, and I am a lost\nman.  Should not this be enough for a sailor, who has had no society\namong women to make him nice?\"\n\nHe said it, she knew, to be contradicted.  His bright proud eye spoke\nthe conviction that he was nice; and Anne Elliot was not out of his\nthoughts, when he more seriously described the woman he should wish to\nmeet with.  \"A strong mind, with sweetness of manner,\" made the first\nand the last of the description.\n\n\"That is the woman I want,\" said he.  \"Something a little inferior I\nshall of course put up with, but it must not be much.  If I am a fool,\nI shall be a fool indeed, for I have thought on the subject more than\nmost men.\"\n\n\n\nChapter 8\n\n\nFrom this time Captain Wentworth and Anne Elliot were repeatedly in the\nsame circle.  They were soon dining in company together at Mr\nMusgrove's, for the little boy's state could no longer supply his aunt\nwith a pretence for absenting herself; and this was but the beginning\nof other dinings and other meetings.\n\nWhether former feelings were to be renewed must be brought to the\nproof; former times must undoubtedly be brought to the recollection of\neach; they could not but be reverted to; the year of their engagement\ncould not but be named by him, in the little narratives or descriptions\nwhich conversation called forth.  His profession qualified him, his\ndisposition lead him, to talk; and \"That was in the year six;\" \"That\nhappened before I went to sea in the year six,\" occurred in the course\nof the first evening they spent together: and though his voice did not\nfalter, and though she had no reason to suppose his eye wandering\ntowards her while he spoke, Anne felt the utter impossibility, from her\nknowledge of his mind, that he could be unvisited by remembrance any\nmore than herself.  There must be the same immediate association of\nthought, though she was very far from conceiving it to be of equal pain.\n\nThey had no conversation together, no intercourse but what the\ncommonest civility required.  Once so much to each other!  Now nothing!\nThere had been a time, when of all the large party now filling the\ndrawing-room at Uppercross, they would have found it most difficult to\ncease to speak to one another.  With the exception, perhaps, of Admiral\nand Mrs Croft, who seemed particularly attached and happy, (Anne could\nallow no other exceptions even among the married couples), there could\nhave been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so\nin unison, no countenances so beloved.  Now they were as strangers;\nnay, worse than strangers, for they could never become acquainted.  It\nwas a perpetual estrangement.\n\nWhen he talked, she heard the same voice, and discerned the same mind.\nThere was a very general ignorance of all naval matters throughout the\nparty; and he was very much questioned, and especially by the two Miss\nMusgroves, who seemed hardly to have any eyes but for him, as to the\nmanner of living on board, daily regulations, food, hours, &c., and\ntheir surprise at his accounts, at learning the degree of accommodation\nand arrangement which was practicable, drew from him some pleasant\nridicule, which reminded Anne of the early days when she too had been\nignorant, and she too had been accused of supposing sailors to be\nliving on board without anything to eat, or any cook to dress it if\nthere were, or any servant to wait, or any knife and fork to use.\n\nFrom thus listening and thinking, she was roused by a whisper of Mrs\nMusgrove's who, overcome by fond regrets, could not help saying--\n\n\"Ah! Miss Anne, if it had pleased Heaven to spare my poor son, I dare\nsay he would have been just such another by this time.\"\n\nAnne suppressed a smile, and listened kindly, while Mrs Musgrove\nrelieved her heart a little more; and for a few minutes, therefore,\ncould not keep pace with the conversation of the others.\n\nWhen she could let her attention take its natural course again, she\nfound the Miss Musgroves just fetching the Navy List (their own navy\nlist, the first that had ever been at Uppercross), and sitting down\ntogether to pore over it, with the professed view of finding out the\nships that Captain Wentworth had commanded.\n\n\"Your first was the Asp, I remember; we will look for the Asp.\"\n\n\"You will not find her there.  Quite worn out and broken up.  I was the\nlast man who commanded her.  Hardly fit for service then.  Reported fit\nfor home service for a year or two, and so I was sent off to the West\nIndies.\"\n\nThe girls looked all amazement.\n\n\"The Admiralty,\" he continued, \"entertain themselves now and then, with\nsending a few hundred men to sea, in a ship not fit to be employed.\nBut they have a great many to provide for; and among the thousands that\nmay just as well go to the bottom as not, it is impossible for them to\ndistinguish the very set who may be least missed.\"\n\n\"Phoo! phoo!\" cried the Admiral, \"what stuff these young fellows talk!\nNever was a better sloop than the Asp in her day.  For an old built\nsloop, you would not see her equal.  Lucky fellow to get her!  He knows\nthere must have been twenty better men than himself applying for her at\nthe same time.  Lucky fellow to get anything so soon, with no more\ninterest than his.\"\n\n\"I felt my luck, Admiral, I assure you;\" replied Captain Wentworth,\nseriously.  \"I was as well satisfied with my appointment as you can\ndesire.  It was a great object with me at that time to be at sea; a\nvery great object, I wanted to be doing something.\"\n\n\"To be sure you did.  What should a young fellow like you do ashore for\nhalf a year together?  If a man had not a wife, he soon wants to be\nafloat again.\"\n\n\"But, Captain Wentworth,\" cried Louisa, \"how vexed you must have been\nwhen you came to the Asp, to see what an old thing they had given you.\"\n\n\"I knew pretty well what she was before that day;\" said he, smiling.\n\"I had no more discoveries to make than you would have as to the\nfashion and strength of any old pelisse, which you had seen lent about\namong half your acquaintance ever since you could remember, and which\nat last, on some very wet day, is lent to yourself.  Ah! she was a dear\nold Asp to me.  She did all that I wanted.  I knew she would.  I knew\nthat we should either go to the bottom together, or that she would be\nthe making of me; and I never had two days of foul weather all the time\nI was at sea in her; and after taking privateers enough to be very\nentertaining, I had the good luck in my passage home the next autumn,\nto fall in with the very French frigate I wanted.  I brought her into\nPlymouth; and here another instance of luck.  We had not been six hours\nin the Sound, when a gale came on, which lasted four days and nights,\nand which would have done for poor old Asp in half the time; our touch\nwith the Great Nation not having much improved our condition.\nFour-and-twenty hours later, and I should only have been a gallant\nCaptain Wentworth, in a small paragraph at one corner of the\nnewspapers; and being lost in only a sloop, nobody would have thought\nabout me.\" Anne's shudderings were to herself alone; but the Miss\nMusgroves could be as open as they were sincere, in their exclamations\nof pity and horror.\n\n\"And so then, I suppose,\" said Mrs Musgrove, in a low voice, as if\nthinking aloud, \"so then he went away to the Laconia, and there he met\nwith our poor boy. Charles, my dear,\" (beckoning him to her), \"do ask\nCaptain Wentworth where it was he first met with your poor brother.  I\nalways forgot.\"\n\n\"It was at Gibraltar, mother, I know.  Dick had been left ill at\nGibraltar, with a recommendation from his former captain to Captain\nWentworth.\"\n\n\"Oh! but, Charles, tell Captain Wentworth, he need not be afraid of\nmentioning poor Dick before me, for it would be rather a pleasure to\nhear him talked of by such a good friend.\"\n\nCharles, being somewhat more mindful of the probabilities of the case,\nonly nodded in reply, and walked away.\n\nThe girls were now hunting for the Laconia; and Captain Wentworth could\nnot deny himself the pleasure of taking the precious volume into his\nown hands to save them the trouble, and once more read aloud the little\nstatement of her name and rate, and present non-commissioned class,\nobserving over it that she too had been one of the best friends man\never had.\n\n\"Ah! those were pleasant days when I had the Laconia!  How fast I made\nmoney in her.  A friend of mine and I had such a lovely cruise together\noff the Western Islands.  Poor Harville, sister!  You know how much he\nwanted money:  worse than myself.  He had a wife.  Excellent fellow.  I\nshall never forget his happiness.  He felt it all, so much for her\nsake.  I wished for him again the next summer, when I had still the\nsame luck in the Mediterranean.\"\n\n\"And I am sure, Sir,\" said Mrs Musgrove, \"it was a lucky day for us,\nwhen you were put captain into that ship.  We shall never forget what\nyou did.\"\n\nHer feelings made her speak low; and Captain Wentworth, hearing only in\npart, and probably not having Dick Musgrove at all near his thoughts,\nlooked rather in suspense, and as if waiting for more.\n\n\"My brother,\" whispered one of the girls; \"mamma is thinking of poor\nRichard.\"\n\n\"Poor dear fellow!\" continued Mrs Musgrove; \"he was grown so steady,\nand such an excellent correspondent, while he was under your care!  Ah!\nit would have been a happy thing, if he had never left you.  I assure\nyou, Captain Wentworth, we are very sorry he ever left you.\"\n\nThere was a momentary expression in Captain Wentworth's face at this\nspeech, a certain glance of his bright eye, and curl of his handsome\nmouth, which convinced Anne, that instead of sharing in Mrs Musgrove's\nkind wishes, as to her son, he had probably been at some pains to get\nrid of him; but it was too transient an indulgence of self-amusement to\nbe detected by any who understood him less than herself; in another\nmoment he was perfectly collected and serious, and almost instantly\nafterwards coming up to the sofa, on which she and Mrs Musgrove were\nsitting, took a place by the latter, and entered into conversation with\nher, in a low voice, about her son, doing it with so much sympathy and\nnatural grace, as shewed the kindest consideration for all that was\nreal and unabsurd in the parent's feelings.\n\nThey were actually on the same sofa, for Mrs Musgrove had most readily\nmade room for him; they were divided only by Mrs Musgrove.  It was no\ninsignificant barrier, indeed.  Mrs Musgrove was of a comfortable,\nsubstantial size, infinitely more fitted by nature to express good\ncheer and good humour, than tenderness and sentiment; and while the\nagitations of Anne's slender form, and pensive face, may be considered\nas very completely screened, Captain Wentworth should be allowed some\ncredit for the self-command with which he attended to her large fat\nsighings over the destiny of a son, whom alive nobody had cared for.\n\nPersonal size and mental sorrow have certainly no necessary\nproportions.  A large bulky figure has as good a right to be in deep\naffliction, as the most graceful set of limbs in the world.  But, fair\nor not fair, there are unbecoming conjunctions, which reason will\npatronize in vain--which taste cannot tolerate--which ridicule will\nseize.\n\nThe Admiral, after taking two or three refreshing turns about the room\nwith his hands behind him, being called to order by his wife, now came\nup to Captain Wentworth, and without any observation of what he might\nbe interrupting, thinking only of his own thoughts, began with--\n\n\"If you had been a week later at Lisbon, last spring, Frederick, you\nwould have been asked to give a passage to Lady Mary Grierson and her\ndaughters.\"\n\n\"Should I?  I am glad I was not a week later then.\"\n\nThe Admiral abused him for his want of gallantry.  He defended himself;\nthough professing that he would never willingly admit any ladies on\nboard a ship of his, excepting for a ball, or a visit, which a few\nhours might comprehend.\n\n\"But, if I know myself,\" said he, \"this is from no want of gallantry\ntowards them.  It is rather from feeling how impossible it is, with all\none's efforts, and all one's sacrifices, to make the accommodations on\nboard such as women ought to have.  There can be no want of gallantry,\nAdmiral, in rating the claims of women to every personal comfort high,\nand this is what I do.  I hate to hear of women on board, or to see\nthem on board; and no ship under my command shall ever convey a family\nof ladies anywhere, if I can help it.\"\n\nThis brought his sister upon him.\n\n\"Oh! Frederick!  But I cannot believe it of you.--All idle\nrefinement!--Women may be as comfortable on board, as in the best house\nin England.  I believe I have lived as much on board as most women, and\nI know nothing superior to the accommodations of a man-of-war.  I\ndeclare I have not a comfort or an indulgence about me, even at\nKellynch Hall,\" (with a kind bow to Anne), \"beyond what I always had in\nmost of the ships I have lived in; and they have been five altogether.\"\n\n\"Nothing to the purpose,\" replied her brother.  \"You were living with\nyour husband, and were the only woman on board.\"\n\n\"But you, yourself, brought Mrs Harville, her sister, her cousin, and\nthree children, round from Portsmouth to Plymouth.  Where was this\nsuperfine, extraordinary sort of gallantry of yours then?\"\n\n\"All merged in my friendship, Sophia.  I would assist any brother\nofficer's wife that I could, and I would bring anything of Harville's\nfrom the world's end, if he wanted it.  But do not imagine that I did\nnot feel it an evil in itself.\"\n\n\"Depend upon it, they were all perfectly comfortable.\"\n\n\"I might not like them the better for that perhaps.  Such a number of\nwomen and children have no right to be comfortable on board.\"\n\n\"My dear Frederick, you are talking quite idly.  Pray, what would\nbecome of us poor sailors' wives, who often want to be conveyed to one\nport or another, after our husbands, if everybody had your feelings?\"\n\n\"My feelings, you see, did not prevent my taking Mrs Harville and all\nher family to Plymouth.\"\n\n\"But I hate to hear you talking so like a fine gentleman, and as if\nwomen were all fine ladies, instead of rational creatures.  We none of\nus expect to be in smooth water all our days.\"\n\n\"Ah! my dear,\" said the Admiral, \"when he had got a wife, he will sing\na different tune.  When he is married, if we have the good luck to live\nto another war, we shall see him do as you and I, and a great many\nothers, have done.  We shall have him very thankful to anybody that\nwill bring him his wife.\"\n\n\"Ay, that we shall.\"\n\n\"Now I have done,\" cried Captain Wentworth.  \"When once married people\nbegin to attack me with,--'Oh! you will think very differently, when\nyou are married.'  I can only say, 'No, I shall not;' and then they say\nagain, 'Yes, you will,' and there is an end of it.\"\n\nHe got up and moved away.\n\n\"What a great traveller you must have been, ma'am!\" said Mrs Musgrove\nto Mrs Croft.\n\n\"Pretty well, ma'am in the fifteen years of my marriage; though many\nwomen have done more.  I have crossed the Atlantic four times, and have\nbeen once to the East Indies, and back again, and only once; besides\nbeing in different places about home: Cork, and Lisbon, and Gibraltar.\nBut I never went beyond the Streights, and never was in the West\nIndies.  We do not call Bermuda or Bahama, you know, the West Indies.\"\n\nMrs Musgrove had not a word to say in dissent; she could not accuse\nherself of having ever called them anything in the whole course of her\nlife.\n\n\"And I do assure you, ma'am,\" pursued Mrs Croft, \"that nothing can\nexceed the accommodations of a man-of-war; I speak, you know, of the\nhigher rates.  When you come to a frigate, of course, you are more\nconfined; though any reasonable woman may be perfectly happy in one of\nthem; and I can safely say, that the happiest part of my life has been\nspent on board a ship.  While we were together, you know, there was\nnothing to be feared.  Thank God!  I have always been blessed with\nexcellent health, and no climate disagrees with me.  A little\ndisordered always the first twenty-four hours of going to sea, but\nnever knew what sickness was afterwards.  The only time I ever really\nsuffered in body or mind, the only time that I ever fancied myself\nunwell, or had any ideas of danger, was the winter that I passed by\nmyself at Deal, when the Admiral (Captain Croft then) was in the North\nSeas.  I lived in perpetual fright at that time, and had all manner of\nimaginary complaints from not knowing what to do with myself, or when I\nshould hear from him next; but as long as we could be together, nothing\never ailed me, and I never met with the smallest inconvenience.\"\n\n\"Aye, to be sure.  Yes, indeed, oh yes!  I am quite of your opinion,\nMrs Croft,\" was Mrs Musgrove's hearty answer.  \"There is nothing so bad\nas a separation.  I am quite of your opinion.  I know what it is, for\nMr Musgrove always attends the assizes, and I am so glad when they are\nover, and he is safe back again.\"\n\nThe evening ended with dancing.  On its being proposed, Anne offered\nher services, as usual; and though her eyes would sometimes fill with\ntears as she sat at the instrument, she was extremely glad to be\nemployed, and desired nothing in return but to be unobserved.\n\nIt was a merry, joyous party, and no one seemed in higher spirits than\nCaptain Wentworth.  She felt that he had every thing to elevate him\nwhich general attention and deference, and especially the attention of\nall the young women, could do.  The Miss Hayters, the females of the\nfamily of cousins already mentioned, were apparently admitted to the\nhonour of being in love with him; and as for Henrietta and Louisa, they\nboth seemed so entirely occupied by him, that nothing but the continued\nappearance of the most perfect good-will between themselves could have\nmade it credible that they were not decided rivals.  If he were a\nlittle spoilt by such universal, such eager admiration, who could\nwonder?\n\nThese were some of the thoughts which occupied Anne, while her fingers\nwere mechanically at work, proceeding for half an hour together,\nequally without error, and without consciousness.  Once she felt that\nhe was looking at herself,  observing her altered features, perhaps,\ntrying to trace in them the ruins of the face which had once charmed\nhim; and once she knew that he must have spoken of her; she was hardly\naware of it, till she heard the answer; but then she was sure of his\nhaving asked his partner whether Miss Elliot never danced?  The answer\nwas, \"Oh, no; never; she has quite given up dancing.  She had rather\nplay.  She is never tired of playing.\"  Once, too, he spoke to her.\nShe had left the instrument on the dancing being over, and he had sat\ndown to try to make out an air which he wished to give the Miss\nMusgroves an idea of.  Unintentionally she returned to that part of the\nroom; he saw her, and, instantly rising, said, with studied politeness--\n\n\"I beg your pardon, madam, this is your seat;\" and though she\nimmediately drew back with a decided negative, he was not to be induced\nto sit down again.\n\nAnne did not wish for more of such looks and speeches.  His cold\npoliteness, his ceremonious grace, were worse than anything.\n\n\n\nChapter 9\n\n\nCaptain Wentworth was come to Kellynch as to a home, to stay as long as\nhe liked, being as thoroughly the object of the Admiral's fraternal\nkindness as of his wife's.  He had intended, on first arriving, to\nproceed very soon into Shropshire, and visit the brother settled in\nthat country, but the attractions of Uppercross induced him to put this\noff.  There was so much of friendliness, and of flattery, and of\neverything most bewitching in his reception there; the old were so\nhospitable, the young so agreeable, that he could not but resolve to\nremain where he was, and take all the charms and perfections of\nEdward's wife upon credit a little longer.\n\nIt was soon Uppercross with him almost every day.  The Musgroves could\nhardly be more ready to invite than he to come, particularly in the\nmorning, when he had no companion at home, for the Admiral and Mrs\nCroft were generally out of doors together, interesting themselves in\ntheir new possessions, their grass, and their sheep, and dawdling about\nin a way not endurable to a third person, or driving out in a gig,\nlately added to their establishment.\n\nHitherto there had been but one opinion of Captain Wentworth among the\nMusgroves and their dependencies.  It was unvarying, warm admiration\neverywhere; but this intimate footing was not more than established,\nwhen a certain Charles Hayter returned among them, to be a good deal\ndisturbed by it, and to think Captain Wentworth very much in the way.\n\nCharles Hayter was the eldest of all the cousins, and a very amiable,\npleasing young man, between whom and Henrietta there had been a\nconsiderable appearance of attachment previous to Captain Wentworth's\nintroduction.  He was in orders; and having a curacy in the\nneighbourhood, where residence was not required, lived at his father's\nhouse, only two miles from Uppercross.  A short absence from home had\nleft his fair one unguarded by his attentions at this critical period,\nand when he came back he had the pain of finding very altered manners,\nand of seeing Captain Wentworth.\n\nMrs Musgrove and Mrs Hayter were sisters.  They had each had money, but\ntheir marriages had made a material difference in their degree of\nconsequence.  Mr Hayter had some property of his own, but it was\ninsignificant compared with Mr Musgrove's; and while the Musgroves were\nin the first class of society in the country, the young Hayters would,\nfrom their parents' inferior, retired, and unpolished way of living,\nand their own defective education, have been hardly in any class at\nall, but for their connexion with Uppercross, this eldest son of course\nexcepted, who had chosen to be a scholar and a gentleman, and who was\nvery superior in cultivation and manners to all the rest.\n\nThe two families had always been on excellent terms, there being no\npride on one side, and no envy on the other, and only such a\nconsciousness of superiority in the Miss Musgroves, as made them\npleased to improve their cousins.  Charles's attentions to Henrietta\nhad been observed by her father and mother without any disapprobation.\n\"It would not be a great match for her; but if Henrietta liked him,\"--\nand Henrietta did seem to like him.\n\nHenrietta fully thought so herself, before Captain Wentworth came; but\nfrom that time Cousin Charles had been very much forgotten.\n\nWhich of the two sisters was preferred by Captain Wentworth was as yet\nquite doubtful, as far as Anne's observation reached.  Henrietta was\nperhaps the prettiest, Louisa had the higher spirits; and she knew not\nnow, whether the more gentle or the more lively character were most\nlikely to attract him.\n\nMr and Mrs Musgrove, either from seeing little, or from an entire\nconfidence in the discretion of both their daughters, and of all the\nyoung men who came near them, seemed to leave everything to take its\nchance.  There was not the smallest appearance of solicitude or remark\nabout them in the Mansion-house; but it was different at the Cottage:\nthe young couple there were more disposed to speculate and wonder; and\nCaptain Wentworth had not been above four or five times in the Miss\nMusgroves' company, and Charles Hayter had but just reappeared, when\nAnne had to listen to the opinions of her brother and sister, as to\nwhich was the one liked best.  Charles gave it for Louisa, Mary for\nHenrietta, but quite agreeing that to have him marry either could be\nextremely delightful.\n\nCharles \"had never seen a pleasanter man in his life; and from what he\nhad once heard Captain Wentworth himself say, was very sure that he had\nnot made less than twenty thousand pounds by the war.  Here was a\nfortune at once; besides which, there would be the chance of what might\nbe done in any future war; and he was sure Captain Wentworth was as\nlikely a man to distinguish himself as any officer in the navy.  Oh! it\nwould be a capital match for either of his sisters.\"\n\n\"Upon my word it would,\" replied Mary.  \"Dear me!  If he should rise to\nany very great honours!  If he should ever be made a baronet!  'Lady\nWentworth' sounds very well.  That would be a noble thing, indeed, for\nHenrietta!  She would take place of me then, and Henrietta would not\ndislike that.  Sir Frederick and Lady Wentworth!  It would be but a new\ncreation, however, and I never think much of your new creations.\"\n\nIt suited Mary best to think Henrietta the one preferred on the very\naccount of Charles Hayter, whose pretensions she wished to see put an\nend to.  She looked down very decidedly upon the Hayters, and thought\nit would be quite a misfortune to have the existing connection between\nthe families renewed--very sad for herself and her children.\n\n\"You know,\" said she, \"I cannot think him at all a fit match for\nHenrietta; and considering the alliances which the Musgroves have made,\nshe has no right to throw herself away.  I do not think any young woman\nhas a right to make a choice that may be disagreeable and inconvenient\nto the principal part of her family, and be giving bad connections to\nthose who have not been used to them.  And, pray, who is Charles\nHayter?  Nothing but a country curate.  A most improper match for Miss\nMusgrove of Uppercross.\"\n\nHer husband, however, would not agree with her here; for besides having\na regard for his cousin, Charles Hayter was an eldest son, and he saw\nthings as an eldest son himself.\n\n\"Now you are talking nonsense, Mary,\" was therefore his answer.  \"It\nwould not be a great match for Henrietta, but Charles has a very fair\nchance, through the Spicers, of getting something from the Bishop in\nthe course of a year or two; and you will please to remember, that he\nis the eldest son; whenever my uncle dies, he steps into very pretty\nproperty.  The estate at Winthrop is not less than two hundred and\nfifty acres, besides the farm near Taunton, which is some of the best\nland in the country.  I grant you, that any of them but Charles would\nbe a very shocking match for Henrietta, and indeed it could not be; he\nis the only one that could be possible; but he is a very good-natured,\ngood sort of a fellow; and whenever Winthrop comes into his hands, he\nwill make a different sort of place of it, and live in a very different\nsort of way; and with that property, he will never be a contemptible\nman--good, freehold property.  No, no; Henrietta might do worse than\nmarry Charles Hayter; and if she has him, and Louisa can get Captain\nWentworth, I shall be very well satisfied.\"\n\n\"Charles may say what he pleases,\" cried Mary to Anne, as soon as he\nwas out of the room, \"but it would be shocking to have Henrietta marry\nCharles Hayter; a very bad thing for her, and still worse for me; and\ntherefore it is very much to be wished that Captain Wentworth may soon\nput him quite out of her head, and I have very little doubt that he\nhas.  She took hardly any notice of Charles Hayter yesterday.  I wish\nyou had been there to see her behaviour.  And as to Captain Wentworth's\nliking Louisa as well as Henrietta, it is nonsense to say so; for he\ncertainly does like Henrietta a great deal the best.  But Charles is so\npositive!  I wish you had been with us yesterday, for then you might\nhave decided between us; and I am sure you would have thought as I did,\nunless you had been determined to give it against me.\"\n\nA dinner at Mr Musgrove's had been the occasion when all these things\nshould have been seen by Anne; but she had staid at home, under the\nmixed plea of a headache of her own, and some return of indisposition\nin little Charles.  She had thought only of avoiding Captain Wentworth;\nbut an escape from being appealed to as umpire was now added to the\nadvantages of a quiet evening.\n\nAs to Captain Wentworth's views, she deemed it of more consequence that\nhe should know his own mind early enough not to be endangering the\nhappiness of either sister, or impeaching his own honour, than that he\nshould prefer Henrietta to Louisa, or Louisa to Henrietta.  Either of\nthem would, in all probability, make him an affectionate, good-humoured\nwife.  With regard to Charles Hayter, she had delicacy which must be\npained by any lightness of conduct in a well-meaning young woman, and a\nheart to sympathize in any of the sufferings it occasioned; but if\nHenrietta found herself mistaken in the nature of her feelings, the\nalteration could not be understood too soon.\n\nCharles Hayter had met with much to disquiet and mortify him in his\ncousin's behaviour.  She had too old a regard for him to be so wholly\nestranged as might in two meetings extinguish every past hope, and\nleave him nothing to do but to keep away from Uppercross:  but there\nwas such a change as became very alarming, when such a man as Captain\nWentworth was to be regarded as the probable cause.  He had been absent\nonly two Sundays, and when they parted, had left her interested, even\nto the height of his wishes, in his prospect of soon quitting his\npresent curacy, and obtaining that of Uppercross instead.  It had then\nseemed the object nearest her heart, that Dr Shirley, the rector, who\nfor more than forty years had been zealously discharging all the duties\nof his office, but was now growing too infirm for many of them, should\nbe quite fixed on engaging a curate; should make his curacy quite as\ngood as he could afford, and should give Charles Hayter the promise of\nit.  The advantage of his having to come only to Uppercross, instead of\ngoing six miles another way; of his having, in every respect, a better\ncuracy; of his belonging to their dear Dr Shirley, and of dear, good Dr\nShirley's being relieved from the duty which he could no longer get\nthrough without most injurious fatigue, had been a great deal, even to\nLouisa, but had been almost everything to Henrietta.  When he came\nback, alas!  the zeal of the business was gone by.  Louisa could not\nlisten at all to his account of a conversation which he had just held\nwith Dr Shirley: she was at a window, looking out for Captain\nWentworth; and even Henrietta had at best only a divided attention to\ngive, and seemed to have forgotten all the former doubt and solicitude\nof the negotiation.\n\n\"Well, I am very glad indeed:  but I always thought you would have it;\nI always thought you sure.  It did not appear to me that--in short, you\nknow, Dr Shirley must have a curate, and you had secured his promise.\nIs he coming, Louisa?\"\n\nOne morning, very soon after the dinner at the Musgroves, at which Anne\nhad not been present, Captain Wentworth walked into the drawing-room at\nthe Cottage, where were only herself and the little invalid Charles,\nwho was lying on the sofa.\n\nThe surprise of finding himself almost alone with Anne Elliot, deprived\nhis manners of their usual composure:  he started, and could only say,\n\"I thought the Miss Musgroves had been here: Mrs Musgrove told me I\nshould find them here,\" before he walked to the window to recollect\nhimself, and feel how he ought to behave.\n\n\"They are up stairs with my sister:  they will be down in a few\nmoments, I dare say,\" had been Anne's reply, in all the confusion that\nwas natural; and if the child had not called her to come and do\nsomething for him, she would have been out of the room the next moment,\nand released Captain Wentworth as well as herself.\n\nHe continued at the window; and after calmly and politely saying, \"I\nhope the little boy is better,\" was silent.\n\nShe was obliged to kneel down by the sofa, and remain there to satisfy\nher patient; and thus they continued a few minutes, when, to her very\ngreat satisfaction, she heard some other person crossing the little\nvestibule.  She hoped, on turning her head, to see the master of the\nhouse; but it proved to be one much less calculated for making matters\neasy--Charles Hayter, probably not at all better pleased by the sight\nof Captain Wentworth than Captain Wentworth had been by the sight of\nAnne.\n\nShe only attempted to say, \"How do you do?  Will you not sit down?  The\nothers will be here presently.\"\n\nCaptain Wentworth, however, came from his window, apparently not\nill-disposed for conversation; but Charles Hayter soon put an end to\nhis attempts by seating himself near the table, and taking up the\nnewspaper; and Captain Wentworth returned to his window.\n\nAnother minute brought another addition.  The younger boy, a remarkable\nstout, forward child, of two years old, having got the door opened for\nhim by some one without, made his determined appearance among them, and\nwent straight to the sofa to see what was going on, and put in his\nclaim to anything good that might be giving away.\n\nThere being nothing to eat, he could only have some play; and as his\naunt would not let him tease his sick brother, he began to fasten\nhimself upon her, as she knelt, in such a way that, busy as she was\nabout Charles, she could not shake him off.  She spoke to him, ordered,\nentreated, and insisted in vain.  Once she did contrive to push him\naway, but the boy had the greater pleasure in getting upon her back\nagain directly.\n\n\"Walter,\" said she, \"get down this moment.  You are extremely\ntroublesome.  I am very angry with you.\"\n\n\"Walter,\" cried Charles Hayter, \"why do you not do as you are bid?  Do\nnot you hear your aunt speak?  Come to me, Walter, come to cousin\nCharles.\"\n\nBut not a bit did Walter stir.\n\nIn another moment, however, she found herself in the state of being\nreleased from him; some one was taking him from her, though he had bent\ndown her head so much, that his little sturdy hands were unfastened\nfrom around her neck, and he was resolutely borne away, before she knew\nthat Captain Wentworth had done it.\n\nHer sensations on the discovery made her perfectly speechless.  She\ncould not even thank him.  She could only hang over little Charles,\nwith most disordered feelings.  His kindness in stepping forward to her\nrelief, the manner, the silence in which it had passed, the little\nparticulars of the circumstance, with the conviction soon forced on her\nby the noise he was studiously making with the child, that he meant to\navoid hearing her thanks, and rather sought to testify that her\nconversation was the last of his wants, produced such a confusion of\nvarying, but very painful agitation, as she could not recover from,\ntill enabled by the entrance of Mary and the Miss Musgroves to make\nover her little patient to their cares, and leave the room.  She could\nnot stay.  It might have been an opportunity of watching the loves and\njealousies of the four--they were now altogether; but she could stay\nfor none of it.  It was evident that Charles Hayter was not well\ninclined towards Captain Wentworth.  She had a strong impression of his\nhaving said, in a vext tone of voice, after Captain Wentworth's\ninterference, \"You ought to have minded me, Walter; I told you not to\nteaze your aunt;\" and could comprehend his regretting that Captain\nWentworth should do what he ought to have done himself.  But neither\nCharles Hayter's feelings, nor anybody's feelings, could interest her,\ntill she had a little better arranged her own.  She was ashamed of\nherself, quite ashamed of being so nervous, so overcome by such a\ntrifle; but so it was, and it required a long application of solitude\nand reflection to recover her.\n\n\n\nChapter 10\n\n\nOther opportunities of making her observations could not fail to occur.\nAnne had soon been in company with all the four together often enough\nto have an opinion, though too wise to acknowledge as much at home,\nwhere she knew it would have satisfied neither husband nor wife; for\nwhile she considered Louisa to be rather the favourite, she could not\nbut think, as far as she might dare to judge from memory and\nexperience, that Captain Wentworth was not in love with either.  They\nwere more in love with him; yet there it was not love.  It was a little\nfever of admiration; but it might, probably must, end in love with\nsome.  Charles Hayter seemed aware of being slighted, and yet Henrietta\nhad sometimes the air of being divided between them.  Anne longed for\nthe power of representing to them all what they were about, and of\npointing out some of the evils they were exposing themselves to.  She\ndid not attribute guile to any.  It was the highest satisfaction to her\nto believe Captain Wentworth not in the least aware of the pain he was\noccasioning.  There was no triumph, no pitiful triumph in his manner.\nHe had, probably, never heard, and never thought of any claims of\nCharles Hayter.  He was only wrong in accepting the attentions (for\naccepting must be the word) of two young women at once.\n\nAfter a short struggle, however, Charles Hayter seemed to quit the\nfield.  Three days had passed without his coming once to Uppercross; a\nmost decided change.  He had even refused one regular invitation to\ndinner; and having been found on the occasion by Mr Musgrove with some\nlarge books before him, Mr and Mrs Musgrove were sure all could not be\nright, and talked, with grave faces, of his studying himself to death.\nIt was Mary's hope and belief that he had received a positive dismissal\nfrom Henrietta, and her husband lived under the constant dependence of\nseeing him to-morrow.  Anne could only feel that Charles Hayter was\nwise.\n\nOne morning, about this time Charles Musgrove and Captain Wentworth\nbeing gone a-shooting together, as the sisters in the Cottage were\nsitting quietly at work, they were visited at the window by the sisters\nfrom the Mansion-house.\n\nIt was a very fine November day, and the Miss Musgroves came through\nthe little grounds, and stopped for no other purpose than to say, that\nthey were going to take a long walk, and therefore concluded Mary could\nnot like to go with them; and when Mary immediately replied, with some\njealousy at not being supposed a good walker, \"Oh, yes, I should like\nto join you very much, I am very fond of a long walk;\" Anne felt\npersuaded, by the looks of the two girls, that it was precisely what\nthey did not wish, and admired again the sort of necessity which the\nfamily habits seemed to produce, of everything being to be\ncommunicated, and everything being to be done together, however\nundesired and inconvenient.  She tried to dissuade Mary from going, but\nin vain; and that being the case, thought it best to accept the Miss\nMusgroves' much more cordial invitation to herself to go likewise, as\nshe might be useful in turning back with her sister, and lessening the\ninterference in any plan of their own.\n\n\"I cannot imagine why they should suppose I should not like a long\nwalk,\" said Mary, as she went up stairs.  \"Everybody is always\nsupposing that I am not a good walker; and yet they would not have been\npleased, if we had refused to join them.  When people come in this\nmanner on purpose to ask us, how can one say no?\"\n\nJust as they were setting off, the gentlemen returned.  They had taken\nout a young dog, who had spoilt their sport, and sent them back early.\nTheir time and strength, and spirits, were, therefore, exactly ready\nfor this walk, and they entered into it with pleasure.  Could Anne have\nforeseen such a junction, she would have staid at home; but, from some\nfeelings of interest and curiosity, she fancied now that it was too\nlate to retract, and the whole six set forward together in the\ndirection chosen by the Miss Musgroves, who evidently considered the\nwalk as under their guidance.\n\nAnne's object was, not to be in the way of anybody; and where the\nnarrow paths across the fields made many separations necessary, to keep\nwith her brother and sister.  Her pleasure in the walk must arise from\nthe exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year\nupon the tawny leaves, and withered hedges, and from repeating to\nherself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of\nautumn, that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind\nof taste and tenderness, that season which had drawn from every poet,\nworthy of being read, some attempt at description, or some lines of\nfeeling.  She occupied her mind as much as possible in such like\nmusings and quotations; but it was not possible, that when within reach\nof Captain Wentworth's conversation with either of the Miss Musgroves,\nshe should not try to hear it; yet she caught little very remarkable.\nIt was mere lively chat, such as any young persons, on an intimate\nfooting, might fall into.  He was more engaged with Louisa than with\nHenrietta.  Louisa certainly put more forward for his notice than her\nsister.  This distinction appeared to increase, and there was one\nspeech of Louisa's which struck her.  After one of the many praises of\nthe day, which were continually bursting forth, Captain Wentworth\nadded:--\n\n\"What glorious weather for the Admiral and my sister!  They meant to\ntake a long drive this morning; perhaps we may hail them from some of\nthese hills.  They talked of coming into this side of the country.  I\nwonder whereabouts they will upset to-day.  Oh! it does happen very\noften, I assure you; but my sister makes nothing of it; she would as\nlieve be tossed out as not.\"\n\n\"Ah! You make the most of it, I know,\" cried Louisa, \"but if it were\nreally so, I should do just the same in her place.  If I loved a man,\nas she loves the Admiral, I would always be with him, nothing should\never separate us, and I would rather be overturned by him, than driven\nsafely by anybody else.\"\n\nIt was spoken with enthusiasm.\n\n\"Had you?\" cried he, catching the same tone; \"I honour you!\" And there\nwas silence between them for a little while.\n\nAnne could not immediately fall into a quotation again.  The sweet\nscenes of autumn were for a while put by, unless some tender sonnet,\nfraught with the apt analogy of the declining year, with declining\nhappiness, and the images of youth and hope, and spring, all gone\ntogether, blessed her memory.  She roused herself to say, as they\nstruck by order into another path, \"Is not this one of the ways to\nWinthrop?\" But nobody heard, or, at least, nobody answered her.\n\nWinthrop, however, or its environs--for young men are, sometimes to be\nmet with, strolling about near home--was their destination; and after\nanother half mile of gradual ascent through large enclosures, where the\nploughs at work, and the fresh made path spoke the farmer counteracting\nthe sweets of poetical despondence, and meaning to have spring again,\nthey gained the summit of the most considerable hill, which parted\nUppercross and Winthrop, and soon commanded a full view of the latter,\nat the foot of the hill on the other side.\n\nWinthrop, without beauty and without dignity, was stretched before them;\nan indifferent house, standing low, and hemmed in by the barns and\nbuildings of a farm-yard.\n\nMary exclaimed, \"Bless me! here is Winthrop.  I declare I had no idea!\nWell now, I think we had better turn back; I am excessively tired.\"\n\nHenrietta, conscious and ashamed, and seeing no cousin Charles walking\nalong any path, or leaning against any gate, was ready to do as Mary\nwished; but \"No!\" said Charles Musgrove, and \"No, no!\" cried Louisa\nmore eagerly, and taking her sister aside, seemed to be arguing the\nmatter warmly.\n\nCharles, in the meanwhile, was very decidedly declaring his resolution\nof calling on his aunt, now that he was so near; and very evidently,\nthough more fearfully, trying to induce his wife to go too.  But this\nwas one of the points on which the lady shewed her strength; and when\nhe recommended the advantage of resting herself a quarter of an hour at\nWinthrop, as she felt so tired, she resolutely answered, \"Oh! no,\nindeed! walking up that hill again would do her more harm than any\nsitting down could do her good;\" and, in short, her look and manner\ndeclared, that go she would not.\n\nAfter a little succession of these sort of debates and consultations,\nit was settled between Charles and his two sisters, that he and\nHenrietta should just run down for a few minutes, to see their aunt and\ncousins, while the rest of the party waited for them at the top of the\nhill.  Louisa seemed the principal arranger of the plan; and, as she\nwent a little way with them, down the hill, still talking to Henrietta,\nMary took the opportunity of looking scornfully around her, and saying\nto Captain Wentworth--\n\n\"It is very unpleasant, having such connexions!  But, I assure you, I\nhave never been in the house above twice in my life.\"\n\nShe received no other answer, than an artificial, assenting smile,\nfollowed by a contemptuous glance, as he turned away, which Anne\nperfectly knew the meaning of.\n\nThe brow of the hill, where they remained, was a cheerful spot: Louisa\nreturned; and Mary, finding a comfortable seat for herself on the step\nof a stile, was very well satisfied so long as the others all stood\nabout her; but when Louisa drew Captain Wentworth away, to try for a\ngleaning of nuts in an adjoining hedge-row, and they were gone by\ndegrees quite out of sight and sound, Mary was happy no longer; she\nquarrelled with her own seat, was sure Louisa had got a much better\nsomewhere, and nothing could prevent her from going to look for a\nbetter also.  She turned through the same gate, but could not see them.\nAnne found a nice seat for her, on a dry sunny bank, under the\nhedge-row, in which she had no doubt of their still being, in some spot\nor other.  Mary sat down for a moment, but it would not do; she was\nsure Louisa had found a better seat somewhere else, and she would go on\ntill she overtook her.\n\nAnne, really tired herself, was glad to sit down; and she very soon\nheard Captain Wentworth and Louisa in the hedge-row, behind her, as if\nmaking their way back along the rough, wild sort of channel, down the\ncentre.  They were speaking as they drew near.  Louisa's voice was the\nfirst distinguished.  She seemed to be in the middle of some eager\nspeech.  What Anne first heard was--\n\n\"And so, I made her go.  I could not bear that she should be frightened\nfrom the visit by such nonsense.  What! would I be turned back from\ndoing a thing that I had determined to do, and that I knew to be right,\nby the airs and interference of such a person, or of any person I may\nsay?  No, I have no idea of being so easily persuaded.  When I have\nmade up my mind, I have made it; and Henrietta seemed entirely to have\nmade up hers to call at Winthrop to-day; and yet, she was as near\ngiving it up, out of nonsensical complaisance!\"\n\n\"She would have turned back then, but for you?\"\n\n\"She would indeed.  I am almost ashamed to say it.\"\n\n\"Happy for her, to have such a mind as yours at hand!  After the hints\nyou gave just now, which did but confirm my own observations, the last\ntime I was in company with him,  I need not affect to have no\ncomprehension of what is going on.  I see that more than a mere dutiful\nmorning visit to your aunt was in question; and woe betide him, and her\ntoo, when it comes to things of consequence, when they are placed in\ncircumstances requiring fortitude and strength of mind, if she have not\nresolution enough to resist idle interference in such a trifle as this.\nYour sister is an amiable creature; but yours is the character of\ndecision and firmness, I see.  If you value her conduct or happiness,\ninfuse as much of your own spirit into her as you can.  But this, no\ndoubt, you have been always doing.  It is the worst evil of too\nyielding and indecisive a character, that no influence over it can be\ndepended on.  You are never sure of a good impression being durable;\neverybody may sway it.  Let those who would be happy be firm.  Here is\na nut,\" said he, catching one down from an upper bough, \"to exemplify:\na beautiful glossy nut, which, blessed with original strength, has\noutlived all the storms of autumn.  Not a puncture, not a weak spot\nanywhere.  This nut,\" he continued, with playful solemnity, \"while so\nmany of his brethren have fallen and been trodden under foot, is still\nin possession of all the happiness that a hazel nut can be supposed\ncapable of.\"  Then returning to his former earnest tone--\"My first\nwish for all whom I am interested in, is that they should be firm.  If\nLouisa Musgrove would be beautiful and happy in her November of life,\nshe will cherish all her present powers of mind.\"\n\nHe had done, and was unanswered.  It would have surprised Anne if\nLouisa could have readily answered such a speech:  words of such\ninterest, spoken with such serious warmth!  She could imagine what\nLouisa was feeling.  For herself, she feared to move, lest she should\nbe seen.  While she remained, a bush of low rambling holly protected\nher, and they were moving on.  Before they were beyond her hearing,\nhowever, Louisa spoke again.\n\n\"Mary is good-natured enough in many respects,\" said she; \"but she does\nsometimes provoke me excessively, by her nonsense and pride--the Elliot\npride.  She has a great deal too much of the Elliot pride.  We do so\nwish that Charles had married Anne instead.  I suppose you know he\nwanted to marry Anne?\"\n\nAfter a moment's pause, Captain Wentworth said--\n\n\"Do you mean that she refused him?\"\n\n\"Oh! yes; certainly.\"\n\n\"When did that happen?\"\n\n\"I do not exactly know, for Henrietta and I were at school at the time;\nbut I believe about a year before he married Mary.  I wish she had\naccepted him.  We should all have liked her a great deal better; and\npapa and mamma always think it was her great friend Lady Russell's\ndoing, that she did not.  They think Charles might not be learned and\nbookish enough to please Lady Russell, and that therefore, she\npersuaded Anne to refuse him.\"\n\nThe sounds were retreating, and Anne distinguished no more.  Her own\nemotions still kept her fixed.  She had much to recover from, before\nshe could move.  The listener's proverbial fate was not absolutely\nhers; she had heard no evil of herself, but she had heard a great deal\nof very painful import.  She saw how her own character was considered\nby Captain Wentworth, and there had been just that degree of feeling\nand curiosity about her in his manner which must give her extreme\nagitation.\n\nAs soon as she could, she went after Mary, and having found, and walked\nback with her to their former station, by the stile, felt some comfort\nin their whole party being immediately afterwards collected, and once\nmore in motion together.  Her spirits wanted the solitude and silence\nwhich only numbers could give.\n\nCharles and Henrietta returned, bringing, as may be conjectured,\nCharles Hayter with them.  The minutiae of the business Anne could not\nattempt to understand; even Captain Wentworth did not seem admitted to\nperfect confidence here; but that there had been a withdrawing on the\ngentleman's side, and a relenting on the lady's, and that they were now\nvery glad to be together again, did not admit a doubt.  Henrietta\nlooked a little ashamed, but very well pleased;--Charles Hayter\nexceedingly happy:  and they were devoted to each other almost from the\nfirst instant of their all setting forward for Uppercross.\n\nEverything now marked out Louisa for Captain Wentworth; nothing could\nbe plainer; and where many divisions were necessary, or even where they\nwere not, they walked side by side nearly as much as the other two.  In\na long strip of meadow land, where there was ample space for all, they\nwere thus divided, forming three distinct parties; and to that party of\nthe three which boasted least animation, and least complaisance, Anne\nnecessarily belonged.  She joined Charles and Mary, and was tired\nenough to be very glad of Charles's other arm; but Charles, though in\nvery good humour with her, was out of temper with his wife.  Mary had\nshewn herself disobliging to him, and was now to reap the consequence,\nwhich consequence was his dropping her arm almost every moment to cut\noff the heads of some nettles in the hedge with his switch; and when\nMary began to complain of it, and lament her being ill-used, according\nto custom, in being on the hedge side, while Anne was never incommoded\non the other, he dropped the arms of both to hunt after a weasel which\nhe had a momentary glance of, and they could hardly get him along at\nall.\n\nThis long meadow bordered a lane, which their footpath, at the end of\nit was to cross, and when the party had all reached the gate of exit,\nthe carriage advancing in the same direction, which had been some time\nheard, was just coming up, and proved to be Admiral Croft's gig.  He\nand his wife had taken their intended drive, and were returning home.\nUpon hearing how long a walk the young people had engaged in, they\nkindly offered a seat to any lady who might be particularly tired; it\nwould save her a full mile, and they were going through Uppercross.\nThe invitation was general, and generally declined.  The Miss Musgroves\nwere not at all tired, and Mary was either offended, by not being asked\nbefore any of the others, or what Louisa called the Elliot pride could\nnot endure to make a third in a one horse chaise.\n\nThe walking party had crossed the lane, and were surmounting an\nopposite stile, and the Admiral was putting his horse in motion again,\nwhen Captain Wentworth cleared the hedge in a moment to say something\nto his sister.  The something might be guessed by its effects.\n\n\"Miss Elliot, I am sure you are tired,\" cried Mrs Croft.  \"Do let us\nhave the pleasure of taking you home.  Here is excellent room for\nthree, I assure you.  If we were all like you, I believe we might sit\nfour.  You must, indeed, you must.\"\n\nAnne was still in the lane; and though instinctively beginning to\ndecline, she was not allowed to proceed.  The Admiral's kind urgency\ncame in support of his wife's; they would not be refused; they\ncompressed themselves into the smallest possible space to leave her a\ncorner, and Captain Wentworth, without saying a word, turned to her,\nand quietly obliged her to be assisted into the carriage.\n\nYes; he had done it.  She was in the carriage, and felt that he had\nplaced her there, that his will and his hands had done it, that she\nowed it to his perception of her fatigue, and his resolution to give\nher rest.  She was very much affected by the view of his disposition\ntowards her, which all these things made apparent.  This little\ncircumstance seemed the completion of all that had gone before.  She\nunderstood him.  He could not forgive her, but he could not be\nunfeeling.  Though condemning her for the past, and considering it with\nhigh and unjust resentment, though perfectly careless of her, and\nthough becoming attached to another, still he could not see her suffer,\nwithout the desire of giving her relief.  It was a remainder of former\nsentiment; it was an impulse of pure, though unacknowledged friendship;\nit was a proof of his own warm and amiable heart, which she could not\ncontemplate without emotions so compounded of pleasure and pain, that\nshe knew not which prevailed.\n\nHer answers to the kindness and the remarks of her companions were at\nfirst unconsciously given.  They had travelled half their way along the\nrough lane, before she was quite awake to what they said.  She then\nfound them talking of \"Frederick.\"\n\n\"He certainly means to have one or other of those two girls, Sophy,\"\nsaid the Admiral; \"but there is no saying which.  He has been running\nafter them, too, long enough, one would think, to make up his mind.\nAy, this comes of the peace.  If it were war now, he would have settled\nit long ago.  We sailors, Miss Elliot, cannot afford to make long\ncourtships in time of war.  How many days was it, my dear, between the\nfirst time of my seeing you and our sitting down together in our\nlodgings at North Yarmouth?\"\n\n\"We had better not talk about it, my dear,\" replied Mrs Croft,\npleasantly; \"for if Miss Elliot were to hear how soon we came to an\nunderstanding, she would never be persuaded that we could be happy\ntogether.  I had known you by character, however, long before.\"\n\n\"Well, and I had heard of you as a very pretty girl, and what were we\nto wait for besides?  I do not like having such things so long in hand.\nI wish Frederick would spread a little more canvass, and bring us home\none of these young ladies to Kellynch.  Then there would always be\ncompany for them.  And very nice young ladies they both are; I hardly\nknow one from the other.\"\n\n\"Very good humoured, unaffected girls, indeed,\" said Mrs Croft, in a\ntone of calmer praise, such as made Anne suspect that her keener powers\nmight not consider either of them as quite worthy of her brother; \"and\na very respectable family.  One could not be connected with better\npeople.  My dear Admiral, that post!  we shall certainly take that\npost.\"\n\nBut by coolly giving the reins a better direction herself they happily\npassed the danger; and by once afterwards judiciously putting out her\nhand they neither fell into a rut, nor ran foul of a dung-cart; and\nAnne, with some amusement at their style of driving, which she imagined\nno bad representation of the general guidance of their affairs, found\nherself safely deposited by them at the Cottage.\n\n\n\nChapter 11\n\n\nThe time now approached for Lady Russell's return:  the day was even\nfixed; and Anne, being engaged to join her as soon as she was\nresettled, was looking forward to an early removal to Kellynch, and\nbeginning to think how her own comfort was likely to be affected by it.\n\nIt would place her in the same village with Captain Wentworth, within\nhalf a mile of him; they would have to frequent the same church, and\nthere must be intercourse between the two families.  This was against\nher; but on the other hand, he spent so much of his time at Uppercross,\nthat in removing thence she might be considered rather as leaving him\nbehind, than as going towards him; and, upon the whole, she believed\nshe must, on this interesting question, be the gainer, almost as\ncertainly as in her change of domestic society, in leaving poor Mary\nfor Lady Russell.\n\nShe wished it might be possible for her to avoid ever seeing Captain\nWentworth at the Hall:  those rooms had witnessed former meetings which\nwould be brought too painfully before her; but she was yet more anxious\nfor the possibility of Lady Russell and Captain Wentworth never meeting\nanywhere.  They did not like each other, and no renewal of acquaintance\nnow could do any good; and were Lady Russell to see them together, she\nmight think that he had too much self-possession, and she too little.\n\nThese points formed her chief solicitude in anticipating her removal\nfrom Uppercross, where she felt she had been stationed quite long\nenough.  Her usefulness to little Charles would always give some\nsweetness to the memory of her two months' visit there, but he was\ngaining strength apace, and she had nothing else to stay for.\n\nThe conclusion of her visit, however, was diversified in a way which\nshe had not at all imagined.  Captain Wentworth, after being unseen and\nunheard of at Uppercross for two whole days, appeared again among them\nto justify himself by a relation of what had kept him away.\n\nA letter from his friend, Captain Harville, having found him out at\nlast, had brought intelligence of Captain Harville's being settled with\nhis family at Lyme for the winter; of their being therefore, quite\nunknowingly, within twenty miles of each other.  Captain Harville had\nnever been in good health since a severe wound which he received two\nyears before, and Captain Wentworth's anxiety to see him had determined\nhim to go immediately to Lyme.  He had been there for four-and-twenty\nhours.  His acquittal was complete, his friendship warmly honoured, a\nlively interest excited for his friend, and his description of the fine\ncountry about Lyme so feelingly attended to by the party, that an\nearnest desire to see Lyme themselves, and a project for going thither\nwas the consequence.\n\nThe young people were all wild to see Lyme.  Captain Wentworth talked\nof going there again himself, it was only seventeen miles from\nUppercross; though November, the weather was by no means bad; and, in\nshort, Louisa, who was the most eager of the eager, having formed the\nresolution to go, and besides the pleasure of doing as she liked, being\nnow armed with the idea of merit in maintaining her own way, bore down\nall the wishes of her father and mother for putting it off till summer;\nand to Lyme they were to go--Charles, Mary, Anne, Henrietta, Louisa,\nand Captain Wentworth.\n\nThe first heedless scheme had been to go in the morning and return at\nnight; but to this Mr Musgrove, for the sake of his horses, would not\nconsent; and when it came to be rationally considered, a day in the\nmiddle of November would not leave much time for seeing a new place,\nafter deducting seven hours, as the nature of the country required, for\ngoing and returning.  They were, consequently, to stay the night there,\nand not to be expected back till the next day's dinner.  This was felt\nto be a considerable amendment; and though they all met at the Great\nHouse at rather an early breakfast hour, and set off very punctually,\nit was so much past noon before the two carriages, Mr Musgrove's coach\ncontaining the four ladies, and Charles's curricle, in which he drove\nCaptain Wentworth, were descending the long hill into Lyme, and\nentering upon the still steeper street of the town itself, that it was\nvery evident they would not have more than time for looking about them,\nbefore the light and warmth of the day were gone.\n\nAfter securing accommodations, and ordering a dinner at one of the\ninns, the next thing to be done was unquestionably to walk directly\ndown to the sea.  They were come too late in the year for any amusement\nor variety which Lyme, as a public place, might offer.  The rooms were\nshut up, the lodgers almost all gone, scarcely any family but of the\nresidents left; and, as there is nothing to admire in the buildings\nthemselves, the remarkable situation of the town, the principal street\nalmost hurrying into the water, the walk to the Cobb, skirting round\nthe pleasant little bay, which, in the season, is animated with bathing\nmachines and company; the Cobb itself, its old wonders and new\nimprovements, with the very beautiful line of cliffs stretching out to\nthe east of the town, are what the stranger's eye will seek; and a very\nstrange stranger it must be, who does not see charms in the immediate\nenvirons of Lyme, to make him wish to know it better.  The scenes in\nits neighbourhood, Charmouth, with its high grounds and extensive\nsweeps of country, and still more, its sweet, retired bay, backed by\ndark cliffs, where fragments of low rock among the sands, make it the\nhappiest spot for watching the flow of the tide, for sitting in\nunwearied contemplation; the woody varieties of the cheerful village of\nUp Lyme; and, above all, Pinny, with its green chasms between romantic\nrocks, where the scattered forest trees and orchards of luxuriant\ngrowth, declare that many a generation must have passed away since the\nfirst partial falling of the cliff prepared the ground for such a\nstate, where a scene so wonderful and so lovely is exhibited, as may\nmore than equal any of the resembling scenes of the far-famed Isle of\nWight:  these places must be visited, and visited again, to make the\nworth of Lyme understood.\n\nThe party from Uppercross passing down by the now deserted and\nmelancholy looking rooms, and still descending, soon found themselves\non the sea-shore; and lingering only, as all must linger and gaze on a\nfirst return to the sea, who ever deserved to look on it at all,\nproceeded towards the Cobb, equally their object in itself and on\nCaptain Wentworth's account:  for in a small house, near the foot of an\nold pier of unknown date, were the Harvilles settled.  Captain\nWentworth turned in to call on his friend; the others walked on, and he\nwas to join them on the Cobb.\n\nThey were by no means tired of wondering and admiring; and not even\nLouisa seemed to feel that they had parted with Captain Wentworth long,\nwhen they saw him coming after them, with three companions, all well\nknown already, by description, to be Captain and Mrs Harville, and a\nCaptain Benwick, who was staying with them.\n\nCaptain Benwick had some time ago been first lieutenant of the Laconia;\nand the account which Captain Wentworth had given of him, on his return\nfrom Lyme before, his warm praise of him as an excellent young man and\nan officer, whom he had always valued highly, which must have stamped\nhim well in the esteem of every listener, had been followed by a little\nhistory of his private life, which rendered him perfectly interesting\nin the eyes of all the ladies.  He had been engaged to Captain\nHarville's sister, and was now mourning her loss.  They had been a year\nor two waiting for fortune and promotion.  Fortune came, his\nprize-money as lieutenant being great; promotion, too, came at last;\nbut Fanny Harville did not live to know it.  She had died the preceding\nsummer while he was at sea.  Captain Wentworth believed it impossible\nfor man to be more attached to woman than poor Benwick had been to\nFanny Harville, or to be more deeply afflicted under the dreadful\nchange.  He considered his disposition as of the sort which must suffer\nheavily, uniting very strong feelings with quiet, serious, and retiring\nmanners, and a decided taste for reading, and sedentary pursuits.  To\nfinish the interest of the story, the friendship between him and the\nHarvilles seemed, if possible, augmented by the event which closed all\ntheir views of alliance, and Captain Benwick was now living with them\nentirely.  Captain Harville had taken his present house for half a\nyear; his taste, and his health, and his fortune, all directing him to\na residence inexpensive, and by the sea; and the grandeur of the\ncountry, and the retirement of Lyme in the winter, appeared exactly\nadapted to Captain Benwick's state of mind.  The sympathy and good-will\nexcited towards Captain Benwick was very great.\n\n\"And yet,\" said Anne to herself, as they now moved forward to meet the\nparty, \"he has not, perhaps, a more sorrowing heart than I have.  I\ncannot believe his prospects so blighted for ever.  He is younger than\nI am; younger in feeling, if not in fact; younger as a man.  He will\nrally again, and be happy with another.\"\n\nThey all met, and were introduced.  Captain Harville was a tall, dark\nman, with a sensible, benevolent countenance; a little lame; and from\nstrong features and want of health, looking much older than Captain\nWentworth.  Captain Benwick looked, and was, the youngest of the three,\nand, compared with either of them, a little man.  He had a pleasing\nface and a melancholy air, just as he ought to have, and drew back from\nconversation.\n\nCaptain Harville, though not equalling Captain Wentworth in manners,\nwas a perfect gentleman, unaffected, warm, and obliging.  Mrs Harville,\na degree less polished than her husband, seemed, however, to have the\nsame good feelings; and nothing could be more pleasant than their\ndesire of considering the whole party as friends of their own, because\nthe friends of Captain Wentworth, or more kindly hospitable than their\nentreaties for their all promising to dine with them.  The dinner,\nalready ordered at the inn, was at last, though unwillingly, accepted\nas a excuse; but they seemed almost hurt that Captain Wentworth should\nhave brought any such party to Lyme, without considering it as a thing\nof course that they should dine with them.\n\nThere was so much attachment to Captain Wentworth in all this, and such\na bewitching charm in a degree of hospitality so uncommon, so unlike\nthe usual style of give-and-take invitations, and dinners of formality\nand display, that Anne felt her spirits not likely to be benefited by\nan increasing acquaintance among his brother-officers.  \"These would\nhave been all my friends,\" was her thought; and she had to struggle\nagainst a great tendency to lowness.\n\nOn quitting the Cobb, they all went in-doors with their new friends,\nand found rooms so small as none but those who invite from the heart\ncould think capable of accommodating so many.  Anne had a moment's\nastonishment on the subject herself; but it was soon lost in the\npleasanter feelings which sprang from the sight of all the ingenious\ncontrivances and nice arrangements of Captain Harville, to turn the\nactual space to the best account, to supply the deficiencies of\nlodging-house furniture, and defend the windows and doors against the\nwinter storms to be expected.  The varieties in the fitting-up of the\nrooms, where the common necessaries provided by the owner, in the\ncommon indifferent plight, were contrasted with some few articles of a\nrare species of wood, excellently worked up, and with something curious\nand valuable from all the distant countries Captain Harville had\nvisited, were more than amusing to Anne; connected as it all was with\nhis profession, the fruit of its labours, the effect of its influence\non his habits, the picture of repose and domestic happiness it\npresented, made it to her a something more, or less, than gratification.\n\nCaptain Harville was no reader; but he had contrived excellent\naccommodations, and fashioned very pretty shelves, for a tolerable\ncollection of well-bound volumes, the property of Captain Benwick.  His\nlameness prevented him from taking much exercise; but a mind of\nusefulness and ingenuity seemed to furnish him with constant employment\nwithin.  He drew, he varnished, he carpentered, he glued; he made toys\nfor the children; he fashioned new netting-needles and pins with\nimprovements; and if everything else was done, sat down to his large\nfishing-net at one corner of the room.\n\nAnne thought she left great happiness behind her when they quitted the\nhouse; and Louisa, by whom she found herself walking, burst forth into\nraptures of admiration and delight on the character of the navy; their\nfriendliness, their brotherliness, their openness, their uprightness;\nprotesting that she was convinced of sailors having more worth and\nwarmth than any other set of men in England; that they only knew how to\nlive, and they only deserved to be respected and loved.\n\nThey went back to dress and dine; and so well had the scheme answered\nalready, that nothing was found amiss; though its being \"so entirely\nout of season,\" and the \"no thoroughfare of Lyme,\" and the \"no\nexpectation of company,\" had brought many apologies from the heads of\nthe inn.\n\nAnne found herself by this time growing so much more hardened to being\nin Captain Wentworth's company than she had at first imagined could\never be, that the sitting down to the same table with him now, and the\ninterchange of the common civilities attending on it (they never got\nbeyond), was become a mere nothing.\n\nThe nights were too dark for the ladies to meet again till the morrow,\nbut Captain Harville had promised them a visit in the evening; and he\ncame, bringing his friend also, which was more than had been expected,\nit having been agreed that Captain Benwick had all the appearance of\nbeing oppressed by the presence of so many strangers.  He ventured\namong them again, however, though his spirits certainly did not seem\nfit for the mirth of the party in general.\n\nWhile Captains Wentworth and Harville led the talk on one side of the\nroom, and by recurring to former days, supplied anecdotes in abundance\nto occupy and entertain the others, it fell to Anne's lot to be placed\nrather apart with Captain Benwick; and a very good impulse of her\nnature obliged her to begin an acquaintance with him.  He was shy, and\ndisposed to abstraction; but the engaging mildness of her countenance,\nand gentleness of her manners, soon had their effect; and Anne was well\nrepaid the first trouble of exertion.  He was evidently a young man of\nconsiderable taste in reading, though principally in poetry; and\nbesides the persuasion of having given him at least an evening's\nindulgence in the discussion of subjects, which his usual companions\nhad probably no concern in, she had the hope of being of real use to\nhim in some suggestions as to the duty and benefit of struggling\nagainst affliction, which had naturally grown out of their\nconversation.  For, though shy, he did not seem reserved; it had rather\nthe appearance of feelings glad to burst their usual restraints; and\nhaving talked of poetry, the richness of the present age, and gone\nthrough a brief comparison of opinion as to the first-rate poets,\ntrying to ascertain whether Marmion or The Lady of the Lake were to be\npreferred, and how ranked the Giaour and The Bride of Abydos; and\nmoreover, how the Giaour was to be pronounced, he showed himself so\nintimately acquainted with all the tenderest songs of the one poet, and\nall the impassioned descriptions of hopeless agony of the other; he\nrepeated, with such tremulous feeling, the various lines which imaged a\nbroken heart, or a mind destroyed by wretchedness, and looked so\nentirely as if he meant to be understood, that she ventured to hope he\ndid not always read only poetry, and to say, that she thought it was\nthe misfortune of poetry to be seldom safely enjoyed by those who\nenjoyed it completely; and that the strong feelings which alone could\nestimate it truly were the very feelings which ought to taste it but\nsparingly.\n\nHis looks shewing him not pained, but pleased with this allusion to his\nsituation, she was emboldened to go on; and feeling in herself the\nright of seniority of mind, she ventured to recommend a larger\nallowance of prose in his daily study; and on being requested to\nparticularize, mentioned such works of our best moralists, such\ncollections of the finest letters, such memoirs of characters of worth\nand suffering, as occurred to her at the moment as calculated to rouse\nand fortify the mind by the highest precepts, and the strongest\nexamples of moral and religious endurances.\n\nCaptain Benwick listened attentively, and seemed grateful for the\ninterest implied; and though with a shake of the head, and sighs which\ndeclared his little faith in the efficacy of any books on grief like\nhis, noted down the names of those she recommended, and promised to\nprocure and read them.\n\nWhen the evening was over, Anne could not but be amused at the idea of\nher coming to Lyme to preach patience and resignation to a young man\nwhom she had never seen before; nor could she help fearing, on more\nserious reflection, that, like many other great moralists and\npreachers, she had been eloquent on a point in which her own conduct\nwould ill bear examination.\n\n\n\nChapter 12\n\n\nAnne and Henrietta, finding themselves the earliest of the party the\nnext morning, agreed to stroll down to the sea before breakfast.  They\nwent to the sands, to watch the flowing of the tide, which a fine\nsouth-easterly breeze was bringing in with all the grandeur which so\nflat a shore admitted.  They praised the morning; gloried in the sea;\nsympathized in the delight of the fresh-feeling breeze--and were\nsilent; till Henrietta suddenly began again with--\n\n\"Oh! yes,--I am quite convinced that, with very few exceptions, the\nsea-air always does good.  There can be no doubt of its having been of\nthe greatest service to Dr Shirley, after his illness, last spring\ntwelve-month.  He declares himself, that coming to Lyme for a month,\ndid him more good than all the medicine he took; and, that being by the\nsea, always makes him feel young again.  Now, I cannot help thinking it\na pity that he does not live entirely by the sea.  I do think he had\nbetter leave Uppercross entirely, and fix at Lyme.  Do not you, Anne?\nDo not you agree with me, that it is the best thing he could do, both\nfor himself and Mrs Shirley?  She has cousins here, you know, and many\nacquaintance, which would make it cheerful for her, and I am sure she\nwould be glad to get to a place where she could have medical attendance\nat hand, in case of his having another seizure.  Indeed I think it\nquite melancholy to have such excellent people as Dr and Mrs Shirley,\nwho have been doing good all their lives, wearing out their last days\nin a place like Uppercross, where, excepting our family, they seem shut\nout from all the world.  I wish his friends would propose it to him.  I\nreally think they ought.  And, as to procuring a dispensation, there\ncould be no difficulty at his time of life, and with his character.  My\nonly doubt is, whether anything could persuade him to leave his parish.\nHe is so very strict and scrupulous in his notions; over-scrupulous I\nmust say.  Do not you think, Anne, it is being over-scrupulous?  Do not\nyou think it is quite a mistaken point of conscience, when a clergyman\nsacrifices his health for the sake of duties, which may be just as well\nperformed by another person?  And at Lyme too, only seventeen miles\noff, he would be near enough to hear, if people thought there was\nanything to complain of.\"\n\nAnne smiled more than once to herself during this speech, and entered\ninto the subject, as ready to do good by entering into the feelings of\na young lady as of a young man, though here it was good of a lower\nstandard, for what could be offered but general acquiescence?  She said\nall that was reasonable and proper on the business; felt the claims of\nDr Shirley to repose as she ought; saw how very desirable it was that\nhe should have some active, respectable young man, as a resident\ncurate, and was even courteous enough to hint at the advantage of such\nresident curate's being married.\n\n\"I wish,\" said Henrietta, very well pleased with her companion, \"I wish\nLady Russell lived at Uppercross, and were intimate with Dr Shirley.  I\nhave always heard of Lady Russell as a woman of the greatest influence\nwith everybody!  I always look upon her as able to persuade a person to\nanything!  I am afraid of her, as I have told you before, quite afraid\nof her, because she is so very clever; but I respect her amazingly, and\nwish we had such a neighbour at Uppercross.\"\n\nAnne was amused by Henrietta's manner of being grateful, and amused\nalso that the course of events and the new interests of Henrietta's\nviews should have placed her friend at all in favour with any of the\nMusgrove family; she had only time, however, for a general answer, and\na wish that such another woman were at Uppercross, before all subjects\nsuddenly ceased, on seeing Louisa and Captain Wentworth coming towards\nthem.  They came also for a stroll till breakfast was likely to be\nready; but Louisa recollecting, immediately afterwards that she had\nsomething to procure at a shop, invited them all to go back with her\ninto the town.  They were all at her disposal.\n\nWhen they came to the steps, leading upwards from the beach, a\ngentleman, at the same moment preparing to come down, politely drew\nback, and stopped to give them way.  They ascended and passed him; and\nas they passed, Anne's face caught his eye, and he looked at her with a\ndegree of earnest admiration, which she could not be insensible of.\nShe was looking remarkably well; her very regular, very pretty\nfeatures, having the bloom and freshness of youth restored by the fine\nwind which had been blowing on her complexion, and by the animation of\neye which it had also produced.  It was evident that the gentleman,\n(completely a gentleman in manner) admired her exceedingly.  Captain\nWentworth looked round at her instantly in a way which shewed his\nnoticing of it.  He gave her a momentary glance, a glance of\nbrightness, which seemed to say, \"That man is struck with you, and even\nI, at this moment, see something like Anne Elliot again.\"\n\nAfter attending Louisa through her business, and loitering about a\nlittle longer, they returned to the inn; and Anne, in passing\nafterwards quickly from her own chamber to their dining-room, had\nnearly run against the very same gentleman, as he came out of an\nadjoining apartment.  She had before conjectured him to be a stranger\nlike themselves, and determined that a well-looking groom, who was\nstrolling about near the two inns as they came back, should be his\nservant.  Both master and man being in mourning assisted the idea.  It\nwas now proved that he belonged to the same inn as themselves; and this\nsecond meeting, short as it was, also proved again by the gentleman's\nlooks, that he thought hers very lovely, and by the readiness and\npropriety of his apologies, that he was a man of exceedingly good\nmanners.  He seemed about thirty, and though not handsome, had an\nagreeable person.  Anne felt that she should like to know who he was.\n\nThey had nearly done breakfast, when the sound of a carriage, (almost\nthe first they had heard since entering Lyme) drew half the party to\nthe window.  It was a gentleman's carriage, a curricle, but only coming\nround from the stable-yard to the front door; somebody must be going\naway.  It was driven by a servant in mourning.\n\nThe word curricle made Charles Musgrove jump up that he might compare\nit with his own; the servant in mourning roused Anne's curiosity, and\nthe whole six were collected to look, by the time the owner of the\ncurricle was to be seen issuing from the door amidst the bows and\ncivilities of the household, and taking his seat, to drive off.\n\n\"Ah!\" cried Captain Wentworth, instantly, and with half a glance at\nAnne, \"it is the very man we passed.\"\n\nThe Miss Musgroves agreed to it; and having all kindly watched him as\nfar up the hill as they could, they returned to the breakfast table.\nThe waiter came into the room soon afterwards.\n\n\"Pray,\" said Captain Wentworth, immediately, \"can you tell us the name\nof the gentleman who is just gone away?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, a Mr Elliot, a gentleman of large fortune, came in last\nnight from Sidmouth.  Dare say you heard the carriage, sir, while you\nwere at dinner; and going on now for Crewkherne, in his way to Bath and\nLondon.\"\n\n\"Elliot!\"  Many had looked on each other, and many had repeated the\nname, before all this had been got through, even by the smart rapidity\nof a waiter.\n\n\"Bless me!\" cried Mary; \"it must be our cousin; it must be our Mr\nElliot, it must, indeed!  Charles, Anne, must not it?  In mourning, you\nsee, just as our Mr Elliot must be.  How very extraordinary!  In the\nvery same inn with us!  Anne, must not it be our Mr Elliot?  my\nfather's next heir?  Pray sir,\" turning to the waiter, \"did not you\nhear, did not his servant say whether he belonged to the Kellynch\nfamily?\"\n\n\"No, ma'am, he did not mention no particular family; but he said his\nmaster was a very rich gentleman, and would be a baronight some day.\"\n\n\"There! you see!\" cried Mary in an ecstasy, \"just as I said!  Heir to\nSir Walter Elliot!  I was sure that would come out, if it was so.\nDepend upon it, that is a circumstance which his servants take care to\npublish, wherever he goes.  But, Anne, only conceive how extraordinary!\nI wish I had looked at him more.  I wish we had been aware in time, who\nit was, that he might have been introduced to us.  What a pity that we\nshould not have been introduced to each other!  Do you think he had the\nElliot countenance?  I hardly looked at him, I was looking at the\nhorses; but I think he had something of the Elliot countenance, I\nwonder the arms did not strike me!  Oh! the great-coat was hanging over\nthe panel, and hid the arms, so it did; otherwise, I am sure, I should\nhave observed them, and the livery too; if the servant had not been in\nmourning, one should have known him by the livery.\"\n\n\"Putting all these very extraordinary circumstances together,\" said\nCaptain Wentworth, \"we must consider it to be the arrangement of\nProvidence, that you should not be introduced to your cousin.\"\n\nWhen she could command Mary's attention, Anne quietly tried to convince\nher that their father and Mr Elliot had not, for many years, been on\nsuch terms as to make the power of attempting an introduction at all\ndesirable.\n\nAt the same time, however, it was a secret gratification to herself to\nhave seen her cousin, and to know that the future owner of Kellynch was\nundoubtedly a gentleman, and had an air of good sense.  She would not,\nupon any account, mention her having met with him the second time;\nluckily Mary did not much attend to their having passed close by him in\ntheir earlier walk, but she would have felt quite ill-used by Anne's\nhaving actually run against him in the passage, and received his very\npolite excuses, while she had never been near him at all; no, that\ncousinly little interview must remain a perfect secret.\n\n\"Of course,\" said Mary, \"you will mention our seeing Mr Elliot, the\nnext time you write to Bath.  I think my father certainly ought to hear\nof it; do mention all about him.\"\n\nAnne avoided a direct reply, but it was just the circumstance which she\nconsidered as not merely unnecessary to be communicated, but as what\nought to be suppressed.  The offence which had been given her father,\nmany years back, she knew; Elizabeth's particular share in it she\nsuspected; and that Mr Elliot's idea always produced irritation in both\nwas beyond a doubt.  Mary never wrote to Bath herself; all the toil of\nkeeping up a slow and unsatisfactory correspondence with Elizabeth fell\non Anne.\n\nBreakfast had not been long over, when they were joined by Captain and\nMrs Harville and Captain Benwick; with whom they had appointed to take\ntheir last walk about Lyme.  They ought to be setting off for\nUppercross by one, and in the meanwhile were to be all together, and\nout of doors as long as they could.\n\nAnne found Captain Benwick getting near her, as soon as they were all\nfairly in the street.  Their conversation the preceding evening did not\ndisincline him to seek her again; and they walked together some time,\ntalking as before of Mr Scott and Lord Byron, and still as unable as\nbefore, and as unable as any other two readers, to think exactly alike\nof the merits of either, till something occasioned an almost general\nchange amongst their party, and instead of Captain Benwick, she had\nCaptain Harville by her side.\n\n\"Miss Elliot,\" said he, speaking rather low, \"you have done a good deed\nin making that poor fellow talk so much.  I wish he could have such\ncompany oftener.  It is bad for him, I know, to be shut up as he is;\nbut what can we do?  We cannot part.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Anne, \"that I can easily believe to be impossible; but in\ntime, perhaps--we know what time does in every case of affliction, and\nyou must remember, Captain Harville, that your friend may yet be called\na young mourner--only last summer, I understand.\"\n\n\"Ay, true enough,\" (with a deep sigh) \"only June.\"\n\n\"And not known to him, perhaps, so soon.\"\n\n\"Not till the first week of August, when he came home from the Cape,\njust made into the Grappler.  I was at Plymouth dreading to hear of\nhim; he sent in letters, but the Grappler was under orders for\nPortsmouth.  There the news must follow him, but who was to tell it?\nnot I.  I would as soon have been run up to the yard-arm.  Nobody could\ndo it, but that good fellow\" (pointing to Captain Wentworth.)  \"The\nLaconia had come into Plymouth the week before; no danger of her being\nsent to sea again.  He stood his chance for the rest; wrote up for\nleave of absence, but without waiting the return, travelled night and\nday till he got to Portsmouth, rowed off to the Grappler that instant,\nand never left the poor fellow for a week.  That's what he did, and\nnobody else could have saved poor James.  You may think, Miss Elliot,\nwhether he is dear to us!\"\n\nAnne did think on the question with perfect decision, and said as much\nin reply as her own feeling could accomplish, or as his seemed able to\nbear, for he was too much affected to renew the subject, and when he\nspoke again, it was of something totally different.\n\nMrs Harville's giving it as her opinion that her husband would have\nquite walking enough by the time he reached home, determined the\ndirection of all the party in what was to be their last walk; they\nwould accompany them to their door, and then return and set off\nthemselves.  By all their calculations there was just time for this;\nbut as they drew near the Cobb, there was such a general wish to walk\nalong it once more, all were so inclined, and Louisa soon grew so\ndetermined, that the difference of a quarter of an hour, it was found,\nwould be no difference at all; so with all the kind leave-taking, and\nall the kind interchange of invitations and promises which may be\nimagined, they parted from Captain and Mrs Harville at their own door,\nand still accompanied by Captain Benwick, who seemed to cling to them\nto the last, proceeded to make the proper adieus to the Cobb.\n\nAnne found Captain Benwick again drawing near her.  Lord Byron's \"dark\nblue seas\" could not fail of being brought forward by their present\nview, and she gladly gave him all her attention as long as attention\nwas possible.  It was soon drawn, perforce another way.\n\nThere was too much wind to make the high part of the new Cobb pleasant\nfor the ladies, and they agreed to get down the steps to the lower, and\nall were contented to pass quietly and carefully down the steep flight,\nexcepting Louisa; she must be jumped down them by Captain Wentworth.\nIn all their walks, he had had to jump her from the stiles; the\nsensation was delightful to her.  The hardness of the pavement for her\nfeet, made him less willing upon the present occasion; he did it,\nhowever.  She was safely down, and instantly, to show her enjoyment,\nran up the steps to be jumped down again.  He advised her against it,\nthought the jar too great; but no, he reasoned and talked in vain, she\nsmiled and said, \"I am determined I will:\" he put out his hands; she\nwas too precipitate by half a second, she fell on the pavement on the\nLower Cobb, and was taken up lifeless!  There was no wound, no blood,\nno visible bruise; but her eyes were closed, she breathed not, her face\nwas like death.  The horror of the moment to all who stood around!\n\nCaptain Wentworth, who had caught her up, knelt with her in his arms,\nlooking on her with a face as pallid as her own, in an agony of\nsilence.  \"She is dead! she is dead!\" screamed Mary, catching hold of\nher husband, and contributing with his own horror to make him\nimmoveable; and in another moment, Henrietta, sinking under the\nconviction, lost her senses too, and would have fallen on the steps,\nbut for Captain Benwick and Anne, who caught and supported her between\nthem.\n\n\"Is there no one to help me?\" were the first words which burst from\nCaptain Wentworth, in a tone of despair, and as if all his own strength\nwere gone.\n\n\"Go to him, go to him,\" cried Anne, \"for heaven's sake go to him.  I\ncan support her myself.  Leave me, and go to him.  Rub her hands, rub\nher temples; here are salts; take them, take them.\"\n\nCaptain Benwick obeyed, and Charles at the same moment, disengaging\nhimself from his wife, they were both with him; and Louisa was raised\nup and supported more firmly between them, and everything was done that\nAnne had prompted, but in vain; while Captain Wentworth, staggering\nagainst the wall for his support, exclaimed in the bitterest agony--\n\n\"Oh God! her father and mother!\"\n\n\"A surgeon!\" said Anne.\n\nHe caught the word; it seemed to rouse him at once, and saying only--\n\"True, true, a surgeon this instant,\" was darting away, when Anne\neagerly suggested--\n\n\"Captain Benwick, would not it be better for Captain Benwick?  He knows\nwhere a surgeon is to be found.\"\n\nEvery one capable of thinking felt the advantage of the idea, and in a\nmoment (it was all done in rapid moments) Captain Benwick had resigned\nthe poor corpse-like  figure entirely to the brother's care, and was\noff for the town with the utmost rapidity.\n\nAs to the wretched party left behind, it could scarcely be said which\nof the three, who were completely rational, was suffering most: Captain\nWentworth, Anne, or Charles, who, really a very affectionate brother,\nhung over Louisa with sobs of grief, and could only turn his eyes from\none sister, to see the other in a state as insensible, or to witness\nthe hysterical agitations of his wife, calling on him for help which he\ncould not give.\n\nAnne, attending with all the strength and zeal, and thought, which\ninstinct supplied, to Henrietta, still tried, at intervals, to suggest\ncomfort to the others, tried to quiet Mary, to animate Charles, to\nassuage the feelings of Captain Wentworth.  Both seemed to look to her\nfor directions.\n\n\"Anne, Anne,\" cried Charles, \"What is to be done next?  What, in\nheaven's name, is to be done next?\"\n\nCaptain Wentworth's eyes were also turned towards her.\n\n\"Had not she better be carried to the inn?  Yes, I am sure: carry her\ngently to the inn.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, to the inn,\" repeated Captain Wentworth, comparatively\ncollected, and eager to be doing something.  \"I will carry her myself.\nMusgrove, take care of the others.\"\n\nBy this time the report of the accident had spread among the workmen\nand boatmen about the Cobb, and many were collected near them, to be\nuseful if wanted, at any rate, to enjoy the sight of a dead young lady,\nnay, two dead young ladies, for it proved twice as fine as the first\nreport.  To some of the best-looking of these good people Henrietta was\nconsigned, for, though partially revived, she was quite helpless; and\nin this manner, Anne walking by her side, and Charles attending to his\nwife, they set forward, treading back with feelings unutterable, the\nground, which so lately, so very lately, and so light of heart, they\nhad passed along.\n\nThey were not off the Cobb, before the Harvilles met them.  Captain\nBenwick had been seen flying by their house, with a countenance which\nshowed something to be wrong; and they had set off immediately,\ninformed and directed as they passed, towards the spot.  Shocked as\nCaptain Harville was, he brought senses and nerves that could be\ninstantly useful; and a look between him and his wife decided what was\nto be done.  She must be taken to their house; all must go to their\nhouse; and await the surgeon's arrival there.  They would not listen to\nscruples:  he was obeyed; they were all beneath his roof; and while\nLouisa, under Mrs Harville's direction, was conveyed up stairs, and\ngiven possession of her own bed, assistance, cordials, restoratives\nwere supplied by her husband to all who needed them.\n\nLouisa had once opened her eyes, but soon closed them again, without\napparent consciousness.  This had been a proof of life, however, of\nservice to her sister; and Henrietta, though perfectly incapable of\nbeing in the same room with Louisa, was kept, by the agitation of hope\nand fear, from a return of her own insensibility.  Mary, too, was\ngrowing calmer.\n\nThe surgeon was with them almost before it had seemed possible.  They\nwere sick with horror, while he examined; but he was not hopeless.  The\nhead had received a severe contusion, but he had seen greater injuries\nrecovered from:  he was by no means hopeless; he spoke cheerfully.\n\nThat he did not regard it as a desperate case, that he did not say a\nfew hours must end it, was at first felt, beyond the hope of most; and\nthe ecstasy of such a reprieve, the rejoicing, deep and silent, after a\nfew fervent ejaculations of gratitude to Heaven had been offered, may\nbe conceived.\n\nThe tone, the look, with which \"Thank God!\" was uttered by Captain\nWentworth, Anne was sure could never be forgotten by her; nor the sight\nof him afterwards, as he sat near a table, leaning over it with folded\narms and face concealed, as if overpowered by the various feelings of\nhis soul, and trying by prayer and reflection to calm them.\n\nLouisa's limbs had escaped.  There was no injury but to the head.\n\nIt now became necessary for the party to consider what was best to be\ndone, as to their general situation.  They were now able to speak to\neach other and consult.  That Louisa must remain where she was, however\ndistressing to her friends to be involving the Harvilles in such\ntrouble, did not admit a doubt.  Her removal was impossible.  The\nHarvilles silenced all scruples; and, as much as they could, all\ngratitude.  They had looked forward and arranged everything before the\nothers began to reflect.  Captain Benwick must give up his room to\nthem, and get another bed elsewhere; and the whole was settled.  They\nwere only concerned that the house could accommodate no more; and yet\nperhaps, by \"putting the children away in the maid's room, or swinging\na cot somewhere,\" they could hardly bear to think of not finding room\nfor two or three besides, supposing they might wish to stay; though,\nwith regard to any attendance on Miss Musgrove, there need not be the\nleast uneasiness in leaving her to Mrs Harville's care entirely.  Mrs\nHarville was a very experienced nurse, and her nursery-maid, who had\nlived with her long, and gone about with her everywhere, was just such\nanother.  Between these two, she could want no possible attendance by\nday or night.  And all this was said with a truth and sincerity of\nfeeling irresistible.\n\nCharles, Henrietta, and Captain Wentworth were the three in\nconsultation, and for a little while it was only an interchange of\nperplexity and terror.  \"Uppercross, the necessity of some one's going\nto Uppercross; the news to be conveyed; how it could be broken to Mr\nand Mrs Musgrove; the lateness of the morning; an hour already gone\nsince they ought to have been off; the impossibility of being in\ntolerable time.\" At first, they were capable of nothing more to the\npurpose than such exclamations; but, after a while, Captain Wentworth,\nexerting himself, said--\n\n\"We must be decided, and without the loss of another minute.  Every\nminute is valuable.  Some one must resolve on being off for Uppercross\ninstantly.  Musgrove, either you or I must go.\"\n\nCharles agreed, but declared his resolution of not going away.  He\nwould be as little incumbrance as possible to Captain and Mrs Harville;\nbut as to leaving his sister in such a state, he neither ought, nor\nwould.  So far it was decided; and Henrietta at first declared the\nsame.  She, however, was soon persuaded to think differently.  The\nusefulness of her staying!  She who had not been able to remain in\nLouisa's room, or to look at her, without sufferings which made her\nworse than helpless!  She was forced to acknowledge that she could do\nno good, yet was still unwilling to be away, till, touched by the\nthought of her father and mother, she gave it up; she consented, she\nwas anxious to be at home.\n\nThe plan had reached this point, when Anne, coming quietly down from\nLouisa's room, could not but hear what followed, for the parlour door\nwas open.\n\n\"Then it is settled, Musgrove,\" cried Captain Wentworth, \"that you\nstay, and that I take care of your sister home.  But as to the rest, as\nto the others, if one stays to assist Mrs Harville, I think it need be\nonly one.  Mrs Charles Musgrove will, of course, wish to get back to\nher children; but if Anne will stay, no one so proper, so capable as\nAnne.\"\n\nShe paused a moment to recover from the emotion of hearing herself so\nspoken of.  The other two warmly agreed with what he said, and she then\nappeared.\n\n\"You will stay, I am sure; you will stay and nurse her;\" cried he,\nturning to her and speaking with a glow, and yet a gentleness, which\nseemed almost restoring the past.  She coloured deeply, and he\nrecollected himself and moved away.  She expressed herself most\nwilling, ready, happy to remain.  \"It was what she had been thinking\nof, and wishing to be allowed to do.  A bed on the floor in Louisa's\nroom would be sufficient for her, if Mrs Harville would but think so.\"\n\nOne thing more, and all seemed arranged.  Though it was rather\ndesirable that Mr and Mrs Musgrove should be previously alarmed by some\nshare of delay; yet the time required by the Uppercross horses to take\nthem back, would be a dreadful extension of suspense; and Captain\nWentworth proposed, and Charles Musgrove agreed, that it would be much\nbetter for him to take a chaise from the inn, and leave Mr Musgrove's\ncarriage and horses to be sent home the next morning early, when there\nwould be the farther advantage of sending an account of Louisa's night.\n\nCaptain Wentworth now hurried off to get everything ready on his part,\nand to be soon followed by the two ladies.  When the plan was made\nknown to Mary, however, there was an end of all peace in it.  She was\nso wretched and so vehement, complained so much of injustice in being\nexpected to go away instead of Anne; Anne, who was nothing to Louisa,\nwhile she was her sister, and had the best right to stay in Henrietta's\nstead!  Why was not she to be as useful as Anne?  And to go home\nwithout Charles, too, without her husband!  No, it was too unkind.  And\nin short, she said more than her husband could long withstand, and as\nnone of the others could oppose when he gave way, there was no help for\nit; the change of Mary for Anne was inevitable.\n\nAnne had never submitted more reluctantly to the jealous and\nill-judging claims of Mary; but so it must be, and they set off for the\ntown, Charles taking care of his sister, and Captain Benwick attending\nto her.  She gave a moment's recollection, as they hurried along, to\nthe little circumstances which the same spots had witnessed earlier in\nthe morning.  There she had listened to Henrietta's schemes for Dr\nShirley's leaving Uppercross; farther on, she had first seen Mr Elliot;\na moment seemed all that could now be given to any one but Louisa, or\nthose who were wrapt up in her welfare.\n\nCaptain Benwick was most considerately attentive to her; and, united as\nthey all seemed by the distress of the day, she felt an increasing\ndegree of good-will towards him, and a pleasure even in thinking that\nit might, perhaps, be the occasion of continuing their acquaintance.\n\nCaptain Wentworth was on the watch for them, and a chaise and four in\nwaiting, stationed for their convenience in the lowest part of the\nstreet; but his evident surprise and vexation at the substitution of\none sister for the other, the change in his countenance, the\nastonishment, the expressions begun and suppressed, with which Charles\nwas listened to, made but a mortifying reception of Anne; or must at\nleast convince her that she was valued only as she could be useful to\nLouisa.\n\nShe endeavoured to be composed, and to be just.  Without emulating the\nfeelings of an Emma towards her Henry, she would have attended on\nLouisa with a zeal above the common claims of regard, for his sake; and\nshe hoped he would not long be so unjust as to suppose she would shrink\nunnecessarily from the office of a friend.\n\nIn the meanwhile she was in the carriage.  He had handed them both in,\nand placed himself between them; and in this manner, under these\ncircumstances, full of astonishment and emotion to Anne, she quitted\nLyme.  How the long stage would pass; how it was to affect their\nmanners; what was to be their sort of intercourse, she could not\nforesee.  It was all quite natural, however.  He was devoted to\nHenrietta; always turning towards her; and when he spoke at all, always\nwith the view of supporting her hopes and raising her spirits.  In\ngeneral, his voice and manner were studiously calm.  To spare Henrietta\nfrom agitation seemed the governing principle.  Once only, when she had\nbeen grieving over the last ill-judged, ill-fated walk to the Cobb,\nbitterly lamenting that it ever had been thought of, he burst forth, as\nif wholly overcome--\n\n\"Don't talk of it, don't talk of it,\" he cried.  \"Oh God! that I had\nnot given way to her at the fatal moment!  Had I done as I ought!  But\nso eager and so resolute! Dear, sweet Louisa!\"\n\nAnne wondered whether it ever occurred to him now, to question the\njustness of his own previous opinion as to the universal felicity and\nadvantage of firmness of character; and whether it might not strike him\nthat, like all other qualities of the mind, it should have its\nproportions and limits.  She thought it could scarcely escape him to\nfeel that a persuadable temper might sometimes be as much in favour of\nhappiness as a very resolute character.\n\nThey got on fast.  Anne was astonished to recognise the same hills and\nthe same objects so soon.  Their actual speed, heightened by some dread\nof the conclusion, made the road appear but half as long as on the day\nbefore.  It was growing quite dusk, however, before they were in the\nneighbourhood of Uppercross, and there had been total silence among\nthem for some time, Henrietta leaning back in the corner, with a shawl\nover her face, giving the hope of her having cried herself to sleep;\nwhen, as they were going up their last hill, Anne found herself all at\nonce addressed by Captain Wentworth.  In a low, cautious voice, he\nsaid:--\n\n\"I have been considering what we had best do.  She must not appear at\nfirst.  She could not stand it.  I have been thinking whether you had\nnot better remain in the carriage with her, while I go in and break it\nto Mr and Mrs Musgrove.  Do you think this is a good plan?\"\n\nShe did:  he was satisfied, and said no more.  But the remembrance of\nthe appeal remained a pleasure to her, as a proof of friendship, and of\ndeference for her judgement, a great pleasure; and when it became a\nsort of parting proof, its value did not lessen.\n\nWhen the distressing communication at Uppercross was over, and he had\nseen the father and mother quite as composed as could be hoped, and the\ndaughter all the better for being with them, he announced his intention\nof returning in the same carriage to Lyme; and when the horses were\nbaited, he was off.\n\n(End of volume one.)\n\n\n\nChapter 13\n\n\nThe remainder of Anne's time at Uppercross, comprehending only two\ndays, was spent entirely at the Mansion House; and she had the\nsatisfaction of knowing herself extremely useful there, both as an\nimmediate companion, and as assisting in all those arrangements for the\nfuture, which, in Mr and Mrs Musgrove's distressed state of spirits,\nwould have been difficulties.\n\nThey had an early account from Lyme the next morning.  Louisa was much\nthe same.  No symptoms worse than before had appeared.  Charles came a\nfew hours afterwards, to bring a later and more particular account.  He\nwas tolerably cheerful.  A speedy cure must not be hoped, but\neverything was going on as well as the nature of the case admitted.  In\nspeaking of the Harvilles, he seemed unable to satisfy his own sense of\ntheir kindness, especially of Mrs Harville's exertions as a nurse.\n\"She really left nothing for Mary to do.  He and Mary had been\npersuaded to go early to their inn last night.  Mary had been\nhysterical again this morning.  When he came away, she was going to\nwalk out with Captain Benwick, which, he hoped, would do her good.  He\nalmost wished she had been prevailed on to come home the day before;\nbut the truth was, that Mrs Harville left nothing for anybody to do.\"\n\nCharles was to return to Lyme the same afternoon, and his father had at\nfirst half a mind to go with him, but the ladies could not consent.  It\nwould be going only to multiply trouble to the others, and increase his\nown distress; and a much better scheme followed and was acted upon.  A\nchaise was sent for from Crewkherne, and Charles conveyed back a far\nmore useful person in the old nursery-maid of the family, one who\nhaving brought up all the children, and seen the very last, the\nlingering and long-petted Master Harry, sent to school after his\nbrothers, was now living in her deserted nursery to mend stockings and\ndress all the blains and bruises she could get near her, and who,\nconsequently, was only too happy in being allowed to go and help nurse\ndear Miss Louisa.  Vague wishes of getting Sarah thither, had occurred\nbefore to Mrs Musgrove and Henrietta; but without Anne, it would hardly\nhave been resolved on, and found practicable so soon.\n\nThey were indebted, the next day, to Charles Hayter, for all the minute\nknowledge of Louisa, which it was so essential to obtain every\ntwenty-four hours.  He made it his business to go to Lyme, and his\naccount was still encouraging.  The intervals of sense and\nconsciousness were believed to be stronger.  Every report agreed in\nCaptain Wentworth's appearing fixed in Lyme.\n\nAnne was to leave them on the morrow, an event which they all dreaded.\n\"What should they do without her?  They were wretched comforters for\none another.\"  And so much was said in this way, that Anne thought she\ncould not do better than impart among them the general inclination to\nwhich she was privy, and persuaded them all to go to Lyme at once.  She\nhad little difficulty; it was soon determined that they would go; go\nto-morrow, fix themselves at the inn, or get into lodgings, as it\nsuited, and there remain till dear Louisa could be moved.  They must be\ntaking off some trouble from the good people she was with; they might\nat least relieve Mrs Harville from the care of her own children; and in\nshort, they were so happy in the decision, that Anne was delighted with\nwhat she had done, and felt that she could not spend her last morning\nat Uppercross better than in assisting their preparations, and sending\nthem off at an early hour, though her being left to the solitary range\nof the house was the consequence.\n\nShe was the last, excepting the little boys at the cottage, she was the\nvery last, the only remaining one of all that had filled and animated\nboth houses, of all that had given Uppercross its cheerful character.\nA few days had made a change indeed!\n\nIf Louisa recovered, it would all be well again.  More than former\nhappiness would be restored.  There could not be a doubt, to her mind\nthere was none, of what would follow her recovery.  A few months hence,\nand the room now so deserted, occupied but by her silent, pensive self,\nmight be filled again with all that was happy and gay, all that was\nglowing and bright in prosperous love, all that was most unlike Anne\nElliot!\n\nAn hour's complete leisure for such reflections as these, on a dark\nNovember day, a small thick rain almost blotting out the very few\nobjects ever to be discerned from the windows, was enough to make the\nsound of Lady Russell's carriage exceedingly welcome; and yet, though\ndesirous to be gone, she could not quit the Mansion House, or look an\nadieu to the Cottage, with its black, dripping and comfortless veranda,\nor even notice through the misty glasses the last humble tenements of\nthe village, without a saddened heart.  Scenes had passed in Uppercross\nwhich made it precious.  It stood the record of many sensations of\npain, once severe, but now softened; and of some instances of relenting\nfeeling, some breathings of friendship and reconciliation, which could\nnever be looked for again, and which could never cease to be dear.  She\nleft it all behind her, all but the recollection that such things had\nbeen.\n\nAnne had never entered Kellynch since her quitting Lady Russell's house\nin September.  It had not been necessary, and the few occasions of its\nbeing possible for her to go to the Hall she had contrived to evade and\nescape from.  Her first return was to resume her place in the modern\nand elegant apartments of the Lodge, and to gladden the eyes of its\nmistress.\n\nThere was some anxiety mixed with Lady Russell's joy in meeting her.\nShe knew who had been frequenting Uppercross.  But happily, either Anne\nwas improved in plumpness and looks, or Lady Russell fancied her so;\nand Anne, in receiving her compliments on the occasion, had the\namusement of connecting them with the silent admiration of her cousin,\nand of hoping that she was to be blessed with a second spring of youth\nand beauty.\n\nWhen they came to converse, she was soon sensible of some mental\nchange.  The subjects of which her heart had been full on leaving\nKellynch, and which she had felt slighted, and been compelled to\nsmother among the Musgroves, were now become but of secondary interest.\nShe had lately lost sight even of her father and sister and Bath.\nTheir concerns had been sunk under those of Uppercross; and when Lady\nRussell reverted to their former hopes and fears, and spoke her\nsatisfaction in the house in Camden Place, which had been taken, and\nher regret that Mrs Clay should still be with them, Anne would have\nbeen ashamed to have it known how much more she was thinking of Lyme\nand Louisa Musgrove, and all her acquaintance there; how much more\ninteresting to her was the home and the friendship of the Harvilles and\nCaptain Benwick, than her own father's house in Camden Place, or her\nown sister's intimacy with Mrs Clay.  She was actually forced to exert\nherself to meet Lady Russell with anything like the appearance of equal\nsolicitude, on topics which had by nature the first claim on her.\n\nThere was a little awkwardness at first in their discourse on another\nsubject.  They must speak of the accident at Lyme.  Lady Russell had\nnot been arrived five minutes the day before, when a full account of\nthe whole had burst on her; but still it must be talked of, she must\nmake enquiries, she must regret the imprudence, lament the result, and\nCaptain Wentworth's name must be mentioned by both.  Anne was conscious\nof not doing it so well as Lady Russell.  She could not speak the name,\nand look straight forward to Lady Russell's eye, till she had adopted\nthe expedient of telling her briefly what she thought of the attachment\nbetween him and Louisa.  When this was told, his name distressed her no\nlonger.\n\nLady Russell had only to listen composedly, and wish them happy, but\ninternally her heart revelled in angry pleasure, in pleased contempt,\nthat the man who at twenty-three had seemed to understand somewhat of\nthe value of an Anne Elliot, should, eight years afterwards, be charmed\nby a Louisa Musgrove.\n\nThe first three or four days passed most quietly, with no circumstance\nto mark them excepting the receipt of a note or two from Lyme, which\nfound their way to Anne, she could not tell how, and brought a rather\nimproving account of Louisa.  At the end of that period, Lady Russell's\npoliteness could repose no longer, and the fainter self-threatenings of\nthe past became in a decided tone, \"I must call on Mrs Croft; I really\nmust call upon her soon.  Anne, have you courage to go with me, and pay\na visit in that house?  It will be some trial to us both.\"\n\nAnne did not shrink from it; on the contrary, she truly felt as she\nsaid, in observing--\n\n\"I think you are very likely to suffer the most of the two; your\nfeelings are less reconciled to the change than mine.  By remaining in\nthe neighbourhood, I am become inured to it.\"\n\nShe could have said more on the subject; for she had in fact so high an\nopinion of the Crofts, and considered her father so very fortunate in\nhis tenants, felt the parish to be so sure of a good example, and the\npoor of the best attention and relief, that however sorry and ashamed\nfor the necessity of the removal, she could not but in conscience feel\nthat they were gone who deserved not to stay, and that Kellynch Hall\nhad passed into better hands than its owners'.  These convictions must\nunquestionably have their own pain, and severe was its kind; but they\nprecluded that pain which Lady Russell would suffer in entering the\nhouse again, and returning through the well-known apartments.\n\nIn such moments Anne had no power of saying to herself, \"These rooms\nought to belong only to us.  Oh, how fallen in their destination!  How\nunworthily occupied!  An ancient family to be so driven away!\nStrangers filling their place!\" No, except when she thought of her\nmother, and remembered where she had been used to sit and preside, she\nhad no sigh of that description to heave.\n\nMrs Croft always met her with a kindness which gave her the pleasure of\nfancying herself a favourite, and on the present occasion, receiving\nher in that house, there was particular attention.\n\nThe sad accident at Lyme was soon the prevailing topic, and on\ncomparing their latest accounts of the invalid, it appeared that each\nlady dated her intelligence from the same hour of yestermorn; that\nCaptain Wentworth had been in Kellynch yesterday (the first time since\nthe accident), had brought Anne the last note, which she had not been\nable to trace the exact steps of; had staid a few hours and then\nreturned again to Lyme, and without any present intention of quitting\nit any more.  He had enquired after her, she found, particularly; had\nexpressed his hope of Miss Elliot's not being the worse for her\nexertions, and had spoken of those exertions as great.  This was\nhandsome, and gave her more pleasure than almost anything else could\nhave done.\n\nAs to the sad catastrophe itself, it could be canvassed only in one\nstyle by a couple of steady, sensible women, whose judgements had to\nwork on ascertained events; and it was perfectly decided that it had\nbeen the consequence of much thoughtlessness and much imprudence; that\nits effects were most alarming, and that it was frightful to think, how\nlong Miss Musgrove's recovery might yet be doubtful, and how liable she\nwould still remain to suffer from the concussion hereafter!  The\nAdmiral wound it up summarily by exclaiming--\n\n\"Ay, a very bad business indeed.  A new sort of way this, for a young\nfellow to be making love, by breaking his mistress's head, is not it,\nMiss Elliot?  This is breaking a head and giving a plaster, truly!\"\n\nAdmiral Croft's manners were not quite of the tone to suit Lady\nRussell, but they delighted Anne.  His goodness of heart and simplicity\nof character were irresistible.\n\n\"Now, this must be very bad for you,\" said he, suddenly rousing from a\nlittle reverie, \"to be coming and finding us here.  I had not\nrecollected it before, I declare, but it must be very bad.  But now, do\nnot stand upon ceremony.  Get up and go over all the rooms in the house\nif you like it.\"\n\n\"Another time, Sir, I thank you, not now.\"\n\n\"Well, whenever it suits you.  You can slip in from the shrubbery at\nany time; and there you will find we keep our umbrellas hanging up by\nthat door.  A good place is not it?  But,\" (checking himself), \"you\nwill not think it a good place, for yours were always kept in the\nbutler's room.  Ay, so it always is, I believe.  One man's ways may be\nas good as another's, but we all like our own best.  And so you must\njudge for yourself, whether it would be better for you to go about the\nhouse or not.\"\n\nAnne, finding she might decline it, did so, very gratefully.\n\n\"We have made very few changes either,\" continued the Admiral, after\nthinking a moment.  \"Very few.  We told you about the laundry-door, at\nUppercross.  That has been a very great improvement.  The wonder was,\nhow any family upon earth could bear with the inconvenience of its\nopening as it did, so long!  You will tell Sir Walter what we have\ndone, and that Mr Shepherd thinks it the greatest improvement the house\never had.  Indeed, I must do ourselves the justice to say, that the few\nalterations we have made have been all very much for the better.  My\nwife should have the credit of them, however.  I have done very little\nbesides sending away some of the large looking-glasses from my\ndressing-room, which was your father's.  A very good man, and very much\nthe gentleman I am sure: but I should think, Miss Elliot,\" (looking\nwith serious reflection), \"I should think he must be rather a dressy\nman for his time of life.  Such a number of looking-glasses! oh Lord!\nthere was no getting away from one's self.  So I got Sophy to lend me a\nhand, and we soon shifted their quarters; and now I am quite snug, with\nmy little shaving glass in one corner, and another great thing that I\nnever go near.\"\n\nAnne, amused in spite of herself, was rather distressed for an answer,\nand the Admiral, fearing he might not have been civil enough, took up\nthe subject again, to say--\n\n\"The next time you write to your good father, Miss Elliot, pray give\nhim my compliments and Mrs Croft's, and say that we are settled here\nquite to our liking, and have no fault at all to find with the place.\nThe breakfast-room chimney smokes a little, I grant you, but it is only\nwhen the wind is due north and blows hard, which may not happen three\ntimes a winter.  And take it altogether, now that we have been into\nmost of the houses hereabouts and can judge, there is not one that we\nlike better than this.  Pray say so, with my compliments.  He will be\nglad to hear it.\"\n\nLady Russell and Mrs Croft were very well pleased with each other: but\nthe acquaintance which this visit began was fated not to proceed far at\npresent; for when it was returned, the Crofts announced themselves to\nbe going away for a few weeks, to visit their connexions in the north\nof the county, and probably might not be at home again before Lady\nRussell would be removing to Bath.\n\nSo ended all danger to Anne of meeting Captain Wentworth at Kellynch\nHall, or of seeing him in company with her friend.  Everything was safe\nenough, and she smiled over the many anxious feelings she had wasted on\nthe subject.\n\n\n\nChapter 14\n\n\nThough Charles and Mary had remained at Lyme much longer after Mr and\nMrs Musgrove's going than Anne conceived they could have been at all\nwanted, they were yet the first of the family to be at home again; and\nas soon as possible after their return to Uppercross they drove over to\nthe Lodge.  They had left Louisa beginning to sit up; but her head,\nthough clear, was exceedingly weak, and her nerves susceptible to the\nhighest extreme of tenderness; and though she might be pronounced to be\naltogether doing very well, it was still impossible to say when she\nmight be able to bear the removal home; and her father and mother, who\nmust return in time to receive their younger children for the Christmas\nholidays, had hardly a hope of being allowed to bring her with them.\n\nThey had been all in lodgings together.  Mrs Musgrove had got Mrs\nHarville's children away as much as she could, every possible supply\nfrom Uppercross had been furnished, to lighten the inconvenience to the\nHarvilles, while the Harvilles had been wanting them to come to dinner\nevery day; and in short, it seemed to have been only a struggle on each\nside as to which should be most disinterested and hospitable.\n\nMary had had her evils; but upon the whole, as was evident by her\nstaying so long, she had found more to enjoy than to suffer.  Charles\nHayter had been at Lyme oftener than suited her; and when they dined\nwith the Harvilles there had been only a maid-servant to wait, and at\nfirst Mrs Harville had always given Mrs Musgrove precedence; but then,\nshe had received so very handsome an apology from her on finding out\nwhose daughter she was, and there had been so much going on every day,\nthere had been so many walks between their lodgings and the Harvilles,\nand she had got books from the library, and changed them so often, that\nthe balance had certainly been much in favour of Lyme.  She had been\ntaken to Charmouth too, and she had bathed, and she had gone to church,\nand there were a great many more people to look at in the church at\nLyme than at Uppercross; and all this, joined to the sense of being so\nvery useful, had made really an agreeable fortnight.\n\nAnne enquired after Captain Benwick. Mary's face was clouded directly.\nCharles laughed.\n\n\"Oh! Captain Benwick is very well, I believe, but he is a very odd\nyoung man.  I do not know what he would be at.  We asked him to come\nhome with us for a day or two:  Charles undertook to give him some\nshooting, and he seemed quite delighted, and, for my part, I thought it\nwas all settled; when behold! on Tuesday night, he made a very awkward\nsort of excuse; 'he never shot' and he had 'been quite misunderstood,'\nand he had promised this and he had promised that, and the end of it\nwas, I found, that he did not mean to come.  I suppose he was afraid of\nfinding it dull; but upon my word I should have thought we were lively\nenough at the Cottage for such a heart-broken man as Captain Benwick.\"\n\nCharles laughed again and said, \"Now Mary, you know very well how it\nreally was.  It was all your doing,\" (turning to Anne.) \"He fancied\nthat if he went with us, he should find you close by: he fancied\neverybody to be living in Uppercross; and when he discovered that Lady\nRussell lived three miles off, his heart failed him, and he had not\ncourage to come.  That is the fact, upon my honour. Mary knows it is.\"\n\nBut Mary did not give into it very graciously, whether from not\nconsidering Captain Benwick entitled by birth and situation to be in\nlove with an Elliot, or from not wanting to believe Anne a greater\nattraction to Uppercross than herself, must be left to be guessed.\nAnne's good-will, however, was not to be lessened by what she heard.\nShe boldly acknowledged herself flattered, and continued her enquiries.\n\n\"Oh! he talks of you,\" cried Charles, \"in such terms--\" Mary\ninterrupted him. \"I declare, Charles, I never heard him mention Anne\ntwice all the time I was there.  I declare, Anne, he never talks of you\nat all.\"\n\n\"No,\" admitted Charles, \"I do not know that he ever does, in a general\nway; but however, it is a very clear thing that he admires you\nexceedingly.  His head is full of some books that he is reading upon\nyour recommendation, and he wants to talk to you about them; he has\nfound out something or other in one of them which he thinks--oh! I\ncannot pretend to remember it, but it was something very fine--I\noverheard him telling Henrietta all about it; and then 'Miss Elliot'\nwas spoken of in the highest terms!  Now Mary, I declare it was so, I\nheard it myself, and you were in the other room.  'Elegance, sweetness,\nbeauty.' Oh! there was no end of Miss Elliot's charms.\"\n\n\"And I am sure,\" cried Mary, warmly, \"it was a very little to his\ncredit, if he did.  Miss Harville only died last June.  Such a heart is\nvery little worth having; is it, Lady Russell?  I am sure you will\nagree with me.\"\n\n\"I must see Captain Benwick before I decide,\" said Lady Russell,\nsmiling.\n\n\"And that you are very likely to do very soon, I can tell you, ma'am,\"\nsaid Charles.  \"Though he had not nerves for coming away with us, and\nsetting off again afterwards to pay a formal visit here, he will make\nhis way over to Kellynch one day by himself, you may depend on it.  I\ntold him the distance and the road, and I told him of the church's\nbeing so very well worth seeing; for as he has a taste for those sort\nof things, I thought that would be a good excuse, and he listened with\nall his understanding and soul; and I am sure from his manner that you\nwill have him calling here soon.  So, I give you notice, Lady Russell.\"\n\n\"Any acquaintance of Anne's will always be welcome to me,\" was Lady\nRussell's kind answer.\n\n\"Oh! as to being Anne's acquaintance,\" said Mary, \"I think he is rather\nmy acquaintance, for I have been seeing him every day this last\nfortnight.\"\n\n\"Well, as your joint acquaintance, then, I shall be very happy to see\nCaptain Benwick.\"\n\n\"You will not find anything very agreeable in him, I assure you, ma'am.\nHe is one of the dullest young men that ever lived.  He has walked with\nme, sometimes, from one end of the sands to the other, without saying a\nword.  He is not at all a well-bred young man.  I am sure you will not\nlike him.\"\n\n\"There we differ, Mary,\" said Anne.  \"I think Lady Russell would like\nhim.  I think she would be so much pleased with his mind, that she\nwould very soon see no deficiency in his manner.\"\n\n\"So do I, Anne,\" said Charles.  \"I am sure Lady Russell would like him.\nHe is just Lady Russell's sort.  Give him a book, and he will read all\nday long.\"\n\n\"Yes, that he will!\" exclaimed Mary, tauntingly.  \"He will sit poring\nover his book, and not know when a person speaks to him, or when one\ndrops one's scissors, or anything that happens.  Do you think Lady\nRussell would like that?\"\n\nLady Russell could not help laughing.  \"Upon my word,\" said she, \"I\nshould not have supposed that my opinion of any one could have admitted\nof such difference of conjecture, steady and matter of fact as I may\ncall myself.  I have really a curiosity to see the person who can give\noccasion to such directly opposite notions.  I wish he may be induced\nto call here.  And when he does, Mary, you may depend upon hearing my\nopinion; but I am determined not to judge him beforehand.\"\n\n\"You will not like him, I will answer for it.\"\n\nLady Russell began talking of something else.  Mary spoke with\nanimation of their meeting with, or rather missing, Mr Elliot so\nextraordinarily.\n\n\"He is a man,\" said Lady Russell, \"whom I have no wish to see.  His\ndeclining to be on cordial terms with the head of his family, has left\na very strong impression in his disfavour with me.\"\n\nThis decision checked Mary's eagerness, and stopped her short in the\nmidst of the Elliot countenance.\n\nWith regard to Captain Wentworth, though Anne hazarded no enquiries,\nthere was voluntary communication sufficient.  His spirits had been\ngreatly recovering lately as might be expected.  As Louisa improved, he\nhad improved, and he was now quite a different creature from what he\nhad been the first week.  He had not seen Louisa; and was so extremely\nfearful of any ill consequence to her from an interview, that he did\nnot press for it at all; and, on the contrary, seemed to have a plan of\ngoing away for a week or ten days, till her head was stronger.  He had\ntalked of going down to Plymouth for a week, and wanted to persuade\nCaptain Benwick to go with him; but, as Charles maintained to the last,\nCaptain Benwick seemed much more disposed to ride over to Kellynch.\n\nThere can be no doubt that Lady Russell and Anne were both occasionally\nthinking of Captain Benwick, from this time.  Lady Russell could not\nhear the door-bell without feeling that it might be his herald; nor\ncould Anne return from any stroll of solitary indulgence in her\nfather's grounds, or any visit of charity in the village, without\nwondering whether she might see him or hear of him.  Captain Benwick\ncame not, however.  He was either less disposed for it than Charles had\nimagined, or he was too shy; and after giving him a week's indulgence,\nLady Russell determined him to be unworthy of the interest which he had\nbeen beginning to excite.\n\nThe Musgroves came back to receive their happy boys and girls from\nschool, bringing with them Mrs Harville's little children, to improve\nthe noise of Uppercross, and lessen that of Lyme.  Henrietta remained\nwith Louisa; but all the rest of the family were again in their usual\nquarters.\n\nLady Russell and Anne paid their compliments to them once, when Anne\ncould not but feel that Uppercross was already quite alive again.\nThough neither Henrietta, nor Louisa, nor Charles Hayter, nor Captain\nWentworth were there, the room presented as strong a contrast as could\nbe wished to the last state she had seen it in.\n\nImmediately surrounding Mrs Musgrove were the little Harvilles, whom\nshe was sedulously guarding from the tyranny of the two children from\nthe Cottage, expressly arrived to amuse them.  On one side was a table\noccupied by some chattering girls, cutting up silk and gold paper; and\non the other were tressels and trays, bending under the weight of brawn\nand cold pies, where riotous boys were holding high revel; the whole\ncompleted by a roaring Christmas fire, which seemed determined to be\nheard, in spite of all the noise of the others.  Charles and Mary also\ncame in, of course, during their visit, and Mr Musgrove made a point of\npaying his respects to Lady Russell, and sat down close to her for ten\nminutes, talking with a very raised voice, but from the clamour of the\nchildren on his knees, generally in vain.  It was a fine family-piece.\n\nAnne, judging from her own temperament, would have deemed such a\ndomestic hurricane a bad restorative of the nerves, which Louisa's\nillness must have so greatly shaken.  But Mrs Musgrove, who got Anne\nnear her on purpose to thank her most cordially, again and again, for\nall her attentions to them, concluded a short recapitulation of what\nshe had suffered herself by observing, with a happy glance round the\nroom, that after all she had gone through, nothing was so likely to do\nher good as a little quiet cheerfulness at home.\n\nLouisa was now recovering apace.  Her mother could even think of her\nbeing able to join their party at home, before her brothers and sisters\nwent to school again.  The Harvilles had promised to come with her and\nstay at Uppercross, whenever she returned.  Captain Wentworth was gone,\nfor the present, to see his brother in Shropshire.\n\n\"I hope I shall remember, in future,\" said Lady Russell, as soon as\nthey were reseated in the carriage, \"not to call at Uppercross in the\nChristmas holidays.\"\n\nEverybody has their taste in noises as well as in other matters; and\nsounds are quite innoxious, or most distressing, by their sort rather\nthan their quantity.  When Lady Russell not long afterwards, was\nentering Bath on a wet afternoon, and driving through the long course\nof streets from the Old Bridge to Camden Place, amidst the dash of\nother carriages, the heavy rumble of carts and drays, the bawling of\nnewspapermen, muffin-men and milkmen, and the ceaseless clink of\npattens, she made no complaint.  No, these were noises which belonged\nto the winter pleasures; her spirits rose under their influence; and\nlike Mrs Musgrove, she was feeling, though not saying, that after being\nlong in the country, nothing could be so good for her as a little quiet\ncheerfulness.\n\nAnne did not share these feelings.  She persisted in a very determined,\nthough very silent disinclination for Bath; caught the first dim view\nof the extensive buildings, smoking in rain, without any wish of seeing\nthem better; felt their progress through the streets to be, however\ndisagreeable, yet too rapid; for who would be glad to see her when she\narrived?  And looked back, with fond regret, to the bustles of\nUppercross and the seclusion of Kellynch.\n\nElizabeth's last letter had communicated a piece of news of some\ninterest.  Mr Elliot was in Bath.  He had called in Camden Place; had\ncalled a second time, a third; had been pointedly attentive.  If\nElizabeth and her father did not deceive themselves, had been taking\nmuch pains to seek the acquaintance, and proclaim the value of the\nconnection, as he had formerly taken pains to shew neglect.  This was\nvery wonderful if it were true; and Lady Russell was in a state of very\nagreeable curiosity and perplexity about Mr Elliot, already recanting\nthe sentiment she had so lately expressed to Mary, of his being \"a man\nwhom she had no wish to see.\"  She had a great wish to see him.  If he\nreally sought to reconcile himself like a dutiful branch, he must be\nforgiven for having dismembered himself from the paternal tree.\n\nAnne was not animated to an equal pitch by the circumstance, but she\nfelt that she would rather see Mr Elliot again than not, which was more\nthan she could say for many other persons in Bath.\n\nShe was put down in Camden Place; and Lady Russell then drove to her\nown lodgings, in Rivers Street.\n\n\n\nChapter 15\n\n\nSir Walter had taken a very good house in Camden Place, a lofty\ndignified situation, such as becomes a man of consequence; and both he\nand Elizabeth were settled there, much to their satisfaction.\n\nAnne entered it with a sinking heart, anticipating an imprisonment of\nmany months, and anxiously saying to herself, \"Oh! when shall I leave\nyou again?\"  A degree of unexpected cordiality, however, in the welcome\nshe received, did her good.  Her father and sister were glad to see\nher, for the sake of shewing her the house and furniture, and met her\nwith kindness.  Her making a fourth, when they sat down to dinner, was\nnoticed as an advantage.\n\nMrs Clay was very pleasant, and very smiling, but her courtesies and\nsmiles were more a matter of course.  Anne had always felt that she\nwould pretend what was proper on her arrival, but the complaisance of\nthe others was unlooked for.  They were evidently in excellent spirits,\nand she was soon to listen to the causes.  They had no inclination to\nlisten to her.  After laying out for some compliments of being deeply\nregretted in their old neighbourhood, which Anne could not pay, they\nhad only a few faint enquiries to make, before the talk must be all\ntheir own.  Uppercross excited no interest, Kellynch very little: it\nwas all Bath.\n\nThey had the pleasure of assuring her that Bath more than answered\ntheir expectations in every respect.  Their house was undoubtedly the\nbest in Camden Place; their drawing-rooms had many decided advantages\nover all the others which they had either seen or heard of, and the\nsuperiority was not less in the style of the fitting-up, or the taste\nof the furniture.  Their acquaintance was exceedingly sought after.\nEverybody was wanting to visit them.  They had drawn back from many\nintroductions, and still were perpetually having cards left by people\nof whom they knew nothing.\n\nHere were funds of enjoyment.  Could Anne wonder that her father and\nsister were happy?  She might not wonder, but she must sigh that her\nfather should feel no degradation in his change, should see nothing to\nregret in the duties and dignity of the resident landholder, should\nfind so much to be vain of in the littlenesses of a town; and she must\nsigh, and smile, and wonder too, as Elizabeth threw open the\nfolding-doors and walked with exultation from one drawing-room to the\nother, boasting of their space; at the possibility of that woman, who\nhad been mistress of Kellynch Hall, finding extent to be proud of\nbetween two walls, perhaps thirty feet asunder.\n\nBut this was not all which they had to make them happy.  They had Mr\nElliot too.  Anne had a great deal to hear of Mr Elliot.  He was not\nonly pardoned, they were delighted with him.  He had been in Bath about\na fortnight; (he had passed through Bath in November, in his way to\nLondon, when the intelligence of Sir Walter's being settled there had\nof course reached him, though only twenty-four hours in the place, but\nhe had not been able to avail himself of it;) but he had now been a\nfortnight in Bath, and his first object on arriving, had been to leave\nhis card in Camden Place, following it up by such assiduous endeavours\nto meet, and when they did meet, by such great openness of conduct,\nsuch readiness to apologize for the past, such solicitude to be\nreceived as a relation again, that their former good understanding was\ncompletely re-established.\n\nThey had not a fault to find in him.  He had explained away all the\nappearance of neglect on his own side.  It had originated in\nmisapprehension entirely.  He had never had an idea of throwing himself\noff; he had feared that he was thrown off, but knew not why, and\ndelicacy had kept him silent.  Upon the hint of having spoken\ndisrespectfully or carelessly of the family and the family honours, he\nwas quite indignant.  He, who had ever boasted of being an Elliot, and\nwhose feelings, as to connection, were only too strict to suit the\nunfeudal tone of the present day.  He was astonished, indeed, but his\ncharacter and general conduct must refute it.  He could refer Sir\nWalter to all who knew him; and certainly, the pains he had been taking\non this, the first opportunity of reconciliation, to be restored to the\nfooting of a relation and heir-presumptive, was a strong proof of his\nopinions on the subject.\n\nThe circumstances of his marriage, too, were found to admit of much\nextenuation.  This was an article not to be entered on by himself; but\na very intimate friend of his, a Colonel Wallis, a highly respectable\nman, perfectly the gentleman, (and not an ill-looking man, Sir Walter\nadded), who was living in very good style in Marlborough Buildings, and\nhad, at his own particular request, been admitted to their acquaintance\nthrough Mr Elliot, had mentioned one or two things relative to the\nmarriage, which made a material difference in the discredit of it.\n\nColonel Wallis had known Mr Elliot long, had been well acquainted also\nwith his wife, had perfectly understood the whole story.  She was\ncertainly not a woman of family, but well educated, accomplished, rich,\nand excessively in love with his friend.  There had been the charm.\nShe had sought him.  Without that attraction, not all her money would\nhave tempted Elliot, and Sir Walter was, moreover, assured of her\nhaving been a very fine woman.  Here was a great deal to soften the\nbusiness.  A very fine woman with a large fortune, in love with him!\nSir Walter seemed to admit it as complete apology; and though Elizabeth\ncould not see the circumstance in quite so favourable a light, she\nallowed it be a great extenuation.\n\nMr Elliot had called repeatedly, had dined with them once, evidently\ndelighted by the distinction of being asked, for they gave no dinners\nin general; delighted, in short, by every proof of cousinly notice, and\nplacing his whole happiness in being on intimate terms in Camden Place.\n\nAnne listened, but without quite understanding it.  Allowances, large\nallowances, she knew, must be made for the ideas of those who spoke.\nShe heard it all under embellishment.  All that sounded extravagant or\nirrational in the progress of the reconciliation might have no origin\nbut in the language of the relators.  Still, however, she had the\nsensation of there being something more than immediately appeared, in\nMr Elliot's wishing, after an interval of so many years, to be well\nreceived by them.  In a worldly view, he had nothing to gain by being\non terms with Sir Walter; nothing to risk by a state of variance.  In\nall probability he was already the richer of the two, and the Kellynch\nestate would as surely be his hereafter as the title.  A sensible man,\nand he had looked like a very sensible man, why should it be an object\nto him?  She could only offer one solution; it was, perhaps, for\nElizabeth's sake.  There might really have been a liking formerly,\nthough convenience and accident had drawn him a different way; and now\nthat he could afford to please himself, he might mean to pay his\naddresses to her.  Elizabeth was certainly very handsome, with\nwell-bred, elegant manners, and her character might never have been\npenetrated by Mr Elliot, knowing her but in public, and when very young\nhimself.  How her temper and understanding might bear the investigation\nof his present keener time of life was another concern and rather a\nfearful one.  Most earnestly did she wish that he might not be too\nnice, or too observant if Elizabeth were his object; and that Elizabeth\nwas disposed to believe herself so, and that her friend Mrs Clay was\nencouraging the idea, seemed apparent by a glance or two between them,\nwhile Mr Elliot's frequent visits were talked of.\n\nAnne mentioned the glimpses she had had of him at Lyme, but without\nbeing much attended to.  \"Oh! yes, perhaps, it had been Mr Elliot.\nThey did not know.  It might be him, perhaps.\"  They could not listen\nto her description of him.  They were describing him themselves; Sir\nWalter especially.  He did justice to his very gentlemanlike\nappearance, his air of elegance and fashion, his good shaped face, his\nsensible eye; but, at the same time, \"must lament his being very much\nunder-hung, a defect which time seemed to have increased; nor could he\npretend to say that ten years had not altered almost every feature for\nthe worse.  Mr Elliot appeared to think that he (Sir Walter) was\nlooking exactly as he had done when they last parted;\" but Sir Walter\nhad \"not been able to return the compliment entirely, which had\nembarrassed him.  He did not mean to complain, however.  Mr Elliot was\nbetter to look at than most men, and he had no objection to being seen\nwith him anywhere.\"\n\nMr Elliot, and his friends in Marlborough Buildings, were talked of the\nwhole evening.  \"Colonel Wallis had been so impatient to be introduced\nto them! and Mr Elliot so anxious that he should!\" and there was a Mrs\nWallis, at present known only to them by description, as she was in\ndaily expectation of her confinement; but Mr Elliot spoke of her as \"a\nmost charming woman, quite worthy of being known in Camden Place,\" and\nas soon as she recovered they were to be acquainted.  Sir Walter\nthought much of Mrs Wallis; she was said to be an excessively pretty\nwoman, beautiful.  \"He longed to see her.  He hoped she might make some\namends for the many very plain faces he was continually passing in the\nstreets.  The worst of Bath was the number of its plain women.  He did\nnot mean to say that there were no pretty women, but the number of the\nplain was out of all proportion.  He had frequently observed, as he\nwalked, that one handsome face would be followed by thirty, or\nfive-and-thirty frights; and once, as he had stood in a shop on Bond\nStreet, he had counted eighty-seven women go by, one after another,\nwithout there being a tolerable face among them.  It had been a frosty\nmorning, to be sure, a sharp frost, which hardly one woman in a\nthousand could stand the test of.  But still, there certainly were a\ndreadful multitude of ugly women in Bath; and as for the men!  they\nwere infinitely worse.  Such scarecrows as the streets were full of!\nIt was evident how little the women were used to the sight of anything\ntolerable, by the effect which a man of decent appearance produced.  He\nhad never walked anywhere arm-in-arm with Colonel Wallis (who was a\nfine military figure, though sandy-haired) without observing that every\nwoman's eye was upon him; every woman's eye was sure to be upon Colonel\nWallis.\"  Modest Sir Walter!  He was not allowed to escape, however.\nHis daughter and Mrs Clay united in hinting that Colonel Wallis's\ncompanion might have as good a figure as Colonel Wallis, and certainly\nwas not sandy-haired.\n\n\"How is Mary looking?\" said Sir Walter, in the height of his good\nhumour.  \"The last time I saw her she had a red nose, but I hope that\nmay not happen every day.\"\n\n\"Oh! no, that must have been quite accidental.  In general she has been\nin very good health and very good looks since Michaelmas.\"\n\n\"If I thought it would not tempt her to go out in sharp winds, and grow\ncoarse, I would send her a new hat and pelisse.\"\n\nAnne was considering whether she should venture to suggest that a gown,\nor a cap, would not be liable to any such misuse, when a knock at the\ndoor suspended everything.  \"A knock at the door! and so late!  It was\nten o'clock.  Could it be Mr Elliot?  They knew he was to dine in\nLansdown Crescent.  It was possible that he might stop in his way home\nto ask them how they did.  They could think of no one else.  Mrs Clay\ndecidedly thought it Mr Elliot's knock.\"  Mrs Clay was right.  With all\nthe state which a butler and foot-boy could give, Mr Elliot was ushered\ninto the room.\n\nIt was the same, the very same man, with no difference but of dress.\nAnne drew a little back, while the others received his compliments, and\nher sister his apologies for calling at so unusual an hour, but \"he\ncould not be so near without wishing to know that neither she nor her\nfriend had taken cold the day before,\" &c. &c; which was all as\npolitely done, and as politely taken, as possible, but her part must\nfollow then.  Sir Walter talked of his youngest daughter; \"Mr Elliot\nmust give him leave to present him to his youngest daughter\" (there was\nno occasion for remembering Mary); and Anne, smiling and blushing, very\nbecomingly shewed to Mr Elliot the pretty features which he had by no\nmeans forgotten, and instantly saw, with amusement at his little start\nof surprise, that he had not been at all aware of who she was.  He\nlooked completely astonished, but not more astonished than pleased; his\neyes brightened! and with the most perfect alacrity he welcomed the\nrelationship, alluded to the past, and entreated to be received as an\nacquaintance already.  He was quite as good-looking as he had appeared\nat Lyme, his countenance improved by speaking, and his manners were so\nexactly what they ought to be, so polished, so easy, so particularly\nagreeable, that she could compare them in excellence to only one\nperson's manners.  They were not the same, but they were, perhaps,\nequally good.\n\nHe sat down with them, and improved their conversation very much.\nThere could be no doubt of his being a sensible man.  Ten minutes were\nenough to certify that.  His tone, his expressions, his choice of\nsubject, his knowing where to stop; it was all the operation of a\nsensible, discerning mind.  As soon as he could, he began to talk to\nher of Lyme, wanting to compare opinions respecting the place, but\nespecially wanting to speak of the circumstance of their happening to\nbe guests in the same inn at the same time; to give his own route,\nunderstand something of hers, and regret that he should have lost such\nan opportunity of paying his respects to her.  She gave him a short\naccount of her party and business at Lyme.  His regret increased as he\nlistened.  He had spent his whole solitary evening in the room\nadjoining theirs; had heard voices, mirth continually; thought they\nmust be a most delightful set of people, longed to be with them, but\ncertainly without the smallest suspicion of his possessing the shadow\nof a right to introduce himself.  If he had but asked who the party\nwere!  The name of Musgrove would have told him enough.  \"Well, it\nwould serve to cure him of an absurd practice of never asking a\nquestion at an inn, which he had adopted, when quite a young man, on\nthe principal of its being very ungenteel to be curious.\n\n\"The notions of a young man of one or two and twenty,\" said he, \"as to\nwhat is necessary in manners to make him quite the thing, are more\nabsurd, I believe, than those of any other set of beings in the world.\nThe folly of the means they often employ is only to be equalled by the\nfolly of what they have in view.\"\n\nBut he must not be addressing his reflections to Anne alone: he knew\nit; he was soon diffused again among the others, and it was only at\nintervals that he could return to Lyme.\n\nHis enquiries, however, produced at length an account of the scene she\nhad been engaged in there, soon after his leaving the place.  Having\nalluded to \"an accident,\"  he must hear the whole.  When he questioned,\nSir Walter and Elizabeth began to question also, but the difference in\ntheir manner of doing it could not be unfelt.  She could only compare\nMr Elliot to Lady Russell, in the wish of really comprehending what had\npassed, and in the degree of concern for what she must have suffered in\nwitnessing it.\n\nHe staid an hour with them.  The elegant little clock on the mantel-piece\nhad struck \"eleven with its silver sounds,\" and the watchman was\nbeginning to be heard at a distance telling the same tale, before Mr\nElliot or any of them seemed to feel that he had been there long.\n\nAnne could not have supposed it possible that her first evening in\nCamden Place could have passed so well!\n\n\n\nChapter 16\n\n\nThere was one point which Anne, on returning to her family, would have\nbeen more thankful to ascertain even than Mr Elliot's being in love\nwith Elizabeth, which was, her father's not being in love with Mrs\nClay; and she was very far from easy about it, when she had been at\nhome a few hours.  On going down to breakfast the next morning, she\nfound there had just been a decent pretence on the lady's side of\nmeaning to leave them.  She could imagine Mrs Clay to have said, that\n\"now Miss Anne was come, she could not suppose herself at all wanted;\"\nfor Elizabeth was replying in a sort of whisper, \"That must not be any\nreason, indeed.  I assure you I feel it none.  She is nothing to me,\ncompared with you;\"  and she was in full time to hear her father say,\n\"My dear madam, this must not be.  As yet, you have seen nothing of\nBath.  You have been here only to be useful.  You must not run away\nfrom us now.  You must stay to be acquainted with Mrs Wallis, the\nbeautiful Mrs Wallis.  To your fine mind, I well know the sight of\nbeauty is a real gratification.\"\n\nHe spoke and looked so much in earnest, that Anne was not surprised to\nsee Mrs Clay stealing a glance at Elizabeth and herself.  Her\ncountenance, perhaps, might express some watchfulness; but the praise\nof the fine mind did not appear to excite a thought in her sister.  The\nlady could not but yield to such joint entreaties, and promise to stay.\n\nIn the course of the same morning, Anne and her father chancing to be\nalone together, he began to compliment her on her improved looks; he\nthought her \"less thin in her person, in her cheeks; her skin, her\ncomplexion, greatly improved; clearer, fresher.  Had she been using any\nthing in particular?\"  \"No, nothing.\"  \"Merely Gowland,\" he supposed.\n\"No, nothing at all.\"  \"Ha! he was surprised at that;\" and added,\n\"certainly you cannot do better than to continue as you are; you cannot\nbe better than well; or I should recommend Gowland, the constant use of\nGowland, during the spring months.  Mrs Clay has been using it at my\nrecommendation, and you see what it has done for her.  You see how it\nhas carried away her freckles.\"\n\nIf Elizabeth could but have heard this!  Such personal praise might\nhave struck her, especially as it did not appear to Anne that the\nfreckles were at all lessened.  But everything must take its chance.\nThe evil of a marriage would be much diminished, if Elizabeth were also\nto marry.  As for herself, she might always command a home with Lady\nRussell.\n\nLady Russell's composed mind and polite manners were put to some trial\non this point, in her intercourse in Camden Place.  The sight of Mrs\nClay in such favour, and of Anne so overlooked, was a perpetual\nprovocation to her there; and vexed her as much when she was away, as a\nperson in Bath who drinks the water, gets all the new publications, and\nhas a very large acquaintance, has time to be vexed.\n\nAs Mr Elliot became known to her, she grew more charitable, or more\nindifferent, towards the others.  His manners were an immediate\nrecommendation; and on conversing with him she found the solid so fully\nsupporting the superficial, that she was at first, as she told Anne,\nalmost ready to exclaim, \"Can this be Mr Elliot?\" and could not\nseriously picture to herself a more agreeable or estimable man.\nEverything united in him; good understanding, correct opinions,\nknowledge of the world, and a warm heart.  He had strong feelings of\nfamily attachment and family honour, without pride or weakness; he\nlived with the liberality of a man of fortune, without display; he\njudged for himself in everything essential, without defying public\nopinion in any point of worldly decorum.  He was steady, observant,\nmoderate, candid; never run away with by spirits or by selfishness,\nwhich fancied itself strong feeling; and yet, with a sensibility to\nwhat was amiable and lovely, and a value for all the felicities of\ndomestic life, which characters of fancied enthusiasm and violent\nagitation seldom really possess.  She was sure that he had not been\nhappy in marriage.  Colonel Wallis said it, and Lady Russell saw it;\nbut it had been no unhappiness to sour his mind, nor (she began pretty\nsoon to suspect) to prevent his thinking of a second choice.  Her\nsatisfaction in Mr Elliot outweighed all the plague of Mrs Clay.\n\nIt was now some years since Anne had begun to learn that she and her\nexcellent friend could sometimes think differently; and it did not\nsurprise her, therefore, that Lady Russell should see nothing\nsuspicious or inconsistent, nothing to require more motives than\nappeared, in Mr Elliot's great desire of a reconciliation.  In Lady\nRussell's view, it was perfectly natural that Mr Elliot, at a mature\ntime of life, should feel it a most desirable object, and what would\nvery generally recommend him among all sensible people, to be on good\nterms with the head of his family; the simplest process in the world of\ntime upon a head naturally clear, and only erring in the heyday of\nyouth.  Anne presumed, however, still to smile about it, and at last to\nmention \"Elizabeth.\"  Lady Russell listened, and looked, and made only\nthis cautious reply:--\"Elizabeth! very well; time will explain.\"\n\nIt was a reference to the future, which Anne, after a little\nobservation, felt she must submit to.  She could determine nothing at\npresent.  In that house Elizabeth must be first; and she was in the\nhabit of such general observance as \"Miss Elliot,\" that any\nparticularity of attention seemed almost impossible.  Mr Elliot, too,\nit must be remembered, had not been a widower seven months.  A little\ndelay on his side might be very excusable.  In fact, Anne could never\nsee the crape round his hat, without fearing that she was the\ninexcusable one, in attributing to him such imaginations; for though\nhis marriage had not been very happy, still it had existed so many\nyears that she could not comprehend a very rapid recovery from the\nawful impression of its being dissolved.\n\nHowever it might end, he was without any question their pleasantest\nacquaintance in Bath:  she saw nobody equal to him; and it was a great\nindulgence now and then to talk to him about Lyme, which he seemed to\nhave as lively a wish to see again, and to see more of, as herself.\nThey went through the particulars of their first meeting a great many\ntimes.  He gave her to understand that he had looked at her with some\nearnestness.  She knew it well; and she remembered another person's\nlook also.\n\nThey did not always think alike.  His value for rank and connexion she\nperceived was greater than hers.  It was not merely complaisance, it\nmust be a liking to the cause, which made him enter warmly into her\nfather and sister's solicitudes on a subject which she thought unworthy\nto excite them.  The Bath paper one morning announced the arrival of\nthe Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple, and her daughter, the Honourable\nMiss Carteret; and all the comfort of No. --, Camden Place, was swept\naway for many days; for the Dalrymples (in Anne's opinion, most\nunfortunately) were cousins of the Elliots; and the agony was how to\nintroduce themselves properly.\n\nAnne had never seen her father and sister before in contact with\nnobility, and she must acknowledge herself disappointed.  She had hoped\nbetter things from their high ideas of their own situation in life, and\nwas reduced to form a wish which she had never foreseen; a wish that\nthey had more pride; for \"our cousins Lady Dalrymple and Miss\nCarteret;\" \"our cousins, the Dalrymples,\" sounded in her ears all day\nlong.\n\nSir Walter had once been in company with the late viscount, but had\nnever seen any of the rest of the family; and the difficulties of the\ncase arose from there having been a suspension of all intercourse by\nletters of ceremony, ever since the death of that said late viscount,\nwhen, in consequence of a dangerous illness of Sir Walter's at the same\ntime, there had been an unlucky omission at Kellynch.  No letter of\ncondolence had been sent to Ireland.  The neglect had been visited on\nthe head of the sinner; for when poor Lady Elliot died herself, no\nletter of condolence was received at Kellynch, and, consequently, there\nwas but too much reason to apprehend that the Dalrymples considered the\nrelationship as closed.  How to have this anxious business set to\nrights, and be admitted as cousins again, was the question:  and it was\na question which, in a more rational manner, neither Lady Russell nor\nMr Elliot thought unimportant.  \"Family connexions were always worth\npreserving, good company always worth seeking; Lady Dalrymple had taken\na house, for three months, in Laura Place, and would be living in\nstyle.  She had been at Bath the year before, and Lady Russell had\nheard her spoken of as a charming woman.  It was very desirable that\nthe connexion should be renewed, if it could be done, without any\ncompromise of propriety on the side of the Elliots.\"\n\nSir Walter, however, would choose his own means, and at last wrote a\nvery fine letter of ample explanation, regret, and entreaty, to his\nright honourable cousin.  Neither Lady Russell nor Mr Elliot could\nadmire the letter; but it did all that was wanted, in bringing three\nlines of scrawl from the Dowager Viscountess.  \"She was very much\nhonoured, and should be happy in their acquaintance.\" The toils of the\nbusiness were over, the sweets began.  They visited in Laura Place,\nthey had the cards of Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple, and the Honourable\nMiss Carteret, to be arranged wherever they might be most visible:  and\n\"Our cousins in Laura Place,\"--\"Our cousin, Lady Dalrymple and Miss\nCarteret,\" were talked of to everybody.\n\nAnne was ashamed.  Had Lady Dalrymple and her daughter even been very\nagreeable, she would still have been ashamed of the agitation they\ncreated, but they were nothing.  There was no superiority of manner,\naccomplishment, or understanding.  Lady Dalrymple had acquired the name\nof \"a charming woman,\" because she had a smile and a civil answer for\neverybody.  Miss Carteret, with still less to say, was so plain and so\nawkward, that she would never have been tolerated in Camden Place but\nfor her birth.\n\nLady Russell confessed she had expected something better; but yet \"it\nwas an acquaintance worth having;\" and when Anne ventured to speak her\nopinion of them to Mr Elliot, he agreed to their being nothing in\nthemselves, but still maintained that, as a family connexion, as good\ncompany, as those who would collect good company around them, they had\ntheir value.  Anne smiled and said,\n\n\"My idea of good company, Mr Elliot, is the company of clever,\nwell-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation; that is\nwhat I call good company.\"\n\n\"You are mistaken,\" said he gently, \"that is not good company; that is\nthe best.  Good company requires only birth, education, and manners,\nand with regard to education is not very nice.  Birth and good manners\nare essential; but a little learning is by no means a dangerous thing\nin good company; on the contrary, it will do very well.  My cousin Anne\nshakes her head.  She is not satisfied.  She is fastidious.  My dear\ncousin\" (sitting down by her), \"you have a better right to be\nfastidious than almost any other woman I know; but will it answer?\nWill it make you happy?  Will it not be wiser to accept the society of\nthose good ladies in Laura Place, and enjoy all the advantages of the\nconnexion as far as possible?  You may depend upon it, that they will\nmove in the first set in Bath this winter, and as rank is rank, your\nbeing known to be related to them will have its use in fixing your\nfamily (our family let me say) in that degree of consideration which we\nmust all wish for.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" sighed Anne, \"we shall, indeed, be known to be related to them!\"\nthen recollecting herself, and not wishing to be answered, she added,\n\"I certainly do think there has been by far too much trouble taken to\nprocure the acquaintance.  I suppose\" (smiling) \"I have more pride than\nany of you; but I confess it does vex me, that we should be so\nsolicitous to have the relationship acknowledged, which we may be very\nsure is a matter of perfect indifference to them.\"\n\n\"Pardon me, dear cousin, you are unjust in your own claims.  In London,\nperhaps, in your present quiet style of living, it might be as you say:\nbut in Bath; Sir Walter Elliot and his family will always be worth\nknowing:  always acceptable as acquaintance.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Anne, \"I certainly am proud, too proud to enjoy a welcome\nwhich depends so entirely upon place.\"\n\n\"I love your indignation,\" said he; \"it is very natural.  But here you\nare in Bath, and the object is to be established here with all the\ncredit and dignity which ought to belong to Sir Walter Elliot.  You\ntalk of being proud; I am called proud, I know, and I shall not wish to\nbelieve myself otherwise; for our pride, if investigated, would have\nthe same object, I have no doubt, though the kind may seem a little\ndifferent.  In one point, I am sure, my dear cousin,\" (he continued,\nspeaking lower, though there was no one else in the room) \"in one\npoint, I am sure, we must feel alike.  We must feel that every addition\nto your father's society, among his equals or superiors, may be of use\nin diverting his thoughts from those who are beneath him.\"\n\nHe looked, as he spoke, to the seat which Mrs Clay had been lately\noccupying:  a sufficient explanation of what he particularly meant; and\nthough Anne could not believe in their having the same sort of pride,\nshe was pleased with him for not liking Mrs Clay; and her conscience\nadmitted that his wishing to promote her father's getting great\nacquaintance was more than excusable in the view of defeating her.\n\n\n\nChapter 17\n\n\nWhile Sir Walter and Elizabeth were assiduously pushing their good\nfortune in Laura Place, Anne was renewing an acquaintance of a very\ndifferent description.\n\nShe had called on her former governess, and had heard from her of there\nbeing an old school-fellow in Bath, who had the two strong claims on\nher attention of past kindness and present suffering.  Miss Hamilton,\nnow Mrs Smith, had shewn her kindness in one of those periods of her\nlife when it had been most valuable.  Anne had gone unhappy to school,\ngrieving for the loss of a mother whom she had dearly loved, feeling\nher separation from home, and suffering as a girl of fourteen, of\nstrong sensibility and not high spirits, must suffer at such a time;\nand Miss Hamilton, three years older than herself, but still from the\nwant of near relations and a settled home, remaining another year at\nschool, had been useful and good to her in a way which had considerably\nlessened her misery, and could never be remembered with indifference.\n\nMiss Hamilton had left school, had married not long afterwards, was\nsaid to have married a man of fortune, and this was all that Anne had\nknown of her, till now that their governess's account brought her\nsituation forward in a more decided but very different form.\n\nShe was a widow and poor.  Her husband had been extravagant; and at his\ndeath, about two years before, had left his affairs dreadfully\ninvolved.  She had had difficulties of every sort to contend with, and\nin addition to these distresses had been afflicted with a severe\nrheumatic fever, which, finally settling in her legs, had made her for\nthe present a cripple.  She had come to Bath on that account, and was\nnow in lodgings near the hot baths, living in a very humble way, unable\neven to afford herself the comfort of a servant, and of course almost\nexcluded from society.\n\nTheir mutual friend answered for the satisfaction which a visit from\nMiss Elliot would give Mrs Smith, and Anne therefore lost no time in\ngoing.  She mentioned nothing of what she had heard, or what she\nintended, at home.  It would excite no proper interest there.  She only\nconsulted Lady Russell, who entered thoroughly into her sentiments, and\nwas most happy to convey her as near to Mrs Smith's lodgings in\nWestgate Buildings, as Anne chose to be taken.\n\nThe visit was paid, their acquaintance re-established, their interest\nin each other more than re-kindled.  The first ten minutes had its\nawkwardness and its emotion.  Twelve years were gone since they had\nparted, and each presented a somewhat different person from what the\nother had imagined.  Twelve years had changed Anne from the blooming,\nsilent, unformed girl of fifteen, to the elegant little woman of\nseven-and-twenty, with every beauty except bloom, and with manners as\nconsciously right as they were invariably gentle; and twelve years had\ntransformed the fine-looking, well-grown Miss Hamilton, in all the glow\nof health and confidence of superiority, into a poor, infirm, helpless\nwidow, receiving the visit of her former protegee as a favour; but all\nthat was uncomfortable in the meeting had soon passed away, and left\nonly the interesting charm of remembering former partialities and\ntalking over old times.\n\nAnne found in Mrs Smith the good sense and agreeable manners which she\nhad almost ventured to depend on, and a disposition to converse and be\ncheerful beyond her expectation.  Neither the dissipations of the\npast--and she had lived very much in the world--nor the restrictions of\nthe present, neither sickness nor sorrow seemed to have closed her\nheart or ruined her spirits.\n\nIn the course of a second visit she talked with great openness, and\nAnne's astonishment increased.  She could scarcely imagine a more\ncheerless situation in itself than Mrs Smith's.  She had been very fond\nof her husband:  she had buried him.  She had been used to affluence:\nit was gone.  She had no child to connect her with life and happiness\nagain, no relations to assist in the arrangement of perplexed affairs,\nno health to make all the rest supportable.  Her accommodations were\nlimited to a noisy parlour, and a dark bedroom behind, with no\npossibility of moving from one to the other without assistance, which\nthere was only one servant in the house to afford, and she never\nquitted the house but to be conveyed into the warm bath.  Yet, in spite\nof all this, Anne had reason to believe that she had moments only of\nlanguor and depression, to hours of occupation and enjoyment.  How\ncould it be?  She watched, observed, reflected, and finally determined\nthat this was not a case of fortitude or of resignation only.  A\nsubmissive spirit might be patient, a strong understanding would supply\nresolution, but here was something more; here was that elasticity of\nmind, that disposition to be comforted, that power of turning readily\nfrom evil to good, and of finding employment which carried her out of\nherself, which was from nature alone.  It was the choicest gift of\nHeaven; and Anne viewed her friend as one of those instances in which,\nby a merciful appointment, it seems designed to counterbalance almost\nevery other want.\n\nThere had been a time, Mrs Smith told her, when her spirits had nearly\nfailed.  She could not call herself an invalid now, compared with her\nstate on first reaching Bath.  Then she had, indeed, been a pitiable\nobject; for she had caught cold on the journey, and had hardly taken\npossession of her lodgings before she was again confined to her bed and\nsuffering under severe and constant pain; and all this among strangers,\nwith the absolute necessity of having a regular nurse, and finances at\nthat moment particularly unfit to meet any extraordinary expense.  She\nhad weathered it, however, and could truly say that it had done her\ngood.  It had increased her comforts by making her feel herself to be\nin good hands.  She had seen too much of the world, to expect sudden or\ndisinterested attachment anywhere, but her illness had proved to her\nthat her landlady had a character to preserve, and would not use her\nill; and she had been particularly fortunate in her nurse, as a sister\nof her landlady, a nurse by profession, and who had always a home in\nthat house when unemployed, chanced to be at liberty just in time to\nattend her.  \"And she,\" said Mrs Smith, \"besides nursing me most\nadmirably, has really proved an invaluable acquaintance.  As soon as I\ncould use my hands she taught me to knit, which has been a great\namusement; and she put me in the way of making these little\nthread-cases, pin-cushions and card-racks, which you always find me so\nbusy about, and which supply me with the means of doing a little good\nto one or two very poor families in this neighbourhood.  She had a\nlarge acquaintance, of course professionally, among those who can\nafford to buy, and she disposes of my merchandise.  She always takes\nthe right time for applying.  Everybody's heart is open, you know, when\nthey have recently escaped from severe pain, or are recovering the\nblessing of health, and Nurse Rooke thoroughly understands when to\nspeak.  She is a shrewd, intelligent, sensible woman.  Hers is a line\nfor seeing human nature; and she has a fund of good sense and\nobservation, which, as a companion, make her infinitely superior to\nthousands of those who having only received 'the best education in the\nworld,' know nothing worth attending to.  Call it gossip, if you will,\nbut when Nurse Rooke has half an hour's leisure to bestow on me, she is\nsure to have something to relate that is entertaining and profitable:\nsomething that makes one know one's species better.  One likes to hear\nwhat is going on, to be au fait as to the newest modes of being\ntrifling and silly.  To me, who live so much alone, her conversation, I\nassure you, is a treat.\"\n\nAnne, far from wishing to cavil at the pleasure, replied, \"I can easily\nbelieve it.  Women of that class have great opportunities, and if they\nare intelligent may be well worth listening to.  Such varieties of\nhuman nature as they are in the habit of witnessing!  And it is not\nmerely in its follies, that they are well read; for they see it\noccasionally under every circumstance that can be most interesting or\naffecting.  What instances must pass before them of ardent,\ndisinterested, self-denying attachment, of heroism, fortitude,\npatience, resignation:  of all the conflicts and all the sacrifices\nthat ennoble us most.  A sick chamber may often furnish the worth of\nvolumes.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Mrs Smith more doubtingly, \"sometimes it may, though I fear\nits lessons are not often in the elevated style you describe.  Here and\nthere, human nature may be great in times of trial; but generally\nspeaking, it is its weakness and not its strength that appears in a\nsick chamber:  it is selfishness and impatience rather than generosity\nand fortitude, that one hears of.  There is so little real friendship\nin the world! and unfortunately\" (speaking low and tremulously) \"there\nare so many who forget to think seriously till it is almost too late.\"\n\nAnne saw the misery of such feelings.  The husband had not been what he\nought, and the wife had been led among that part of mankind which made\nher think worse of the world than she hoped it deserved.  It was but a\npassing emotion however with Mrs Smith; she shook it off, and soon\nadded in a different tone--\n\n\"I do not suppose the situation my friend Mrs Rooke is in at present,\nwill furnish much either to interest or edify me.  She is only nursing\nMrs Wallis of Marlborough Buildings; a mere pretty, silly, expensive,\nfashionable woman, I believe; and of course will have nothing to report\nbut of lace and finery.  I mean to make my profit of Mrs Wallis,\nhowever.  She has plenty of money, and I intend she shall buy all the\nhigh-priced things I have in hand now.\"\n\nAnne had called several times on her friend, before the existence of\nsuch a person was known in Camden Place.  At last, it became necessary\nto speak of her. Sir Walter, Elizabeth and Mrs Clay, returned one\nmorning from Laura Place, with a sudden invitation from Lady Dalrymple\nfor the same evening, and Anne was already engaged, to spend that\nevening in Westgate Buildings.  She was not sorry for the excuse.  They\nwere only asked, she was sure, because Lady Dalrymple being kept at\nhome by a bad cold, was glad to make use of the relationship which had\nbeen so pressed on her; and she declined on her own account with great\nalacrity--\"She was engaged to spend the evening with an old\nschoolfellow.\"  They were not much interested in anything relative to\nAnne; but still there were questions enough asked, to make it\nunderstood what this old schoolfellow was; and Elizabeth was\ndisdainful, and Sir Walter severe.\n\n\"Westgate Buildings!\" said he, \"and who is Miss Anne Elliot to be\nvisiting in Westgate Buildings?  A Mrs Smith.  A widow Mrs Smith; and\nwho was her husband?  One of five thousand Mr Smiths whose names are to\nbe met with everywhere.  And what is her attraction?  That she is old\nand sickly.  Upon my word, Miss Anne Elliot, you have the most\nextraordinary taste!  Everything that revolts other people, low\ncompany, paltry rooms, foul air, disgusting associations are inviting\nto you.  But surely you may put off this old lady till to-morrow:  she\nis not so near her end, I presume, but that she may hope to see another\nday.  What is her age?  Forty?\"\n\n\"No, sir, she is not one-and-thirty; but I do not think I can put off\nmy engagement, because it is the only evening for some time which will\nat once suit her and myself.  She goes into the warm bath to-morrow,\nand for the rest of the week, you know, we are engaged.\"\n\n\"But what does Lady Russell think of this acquaintance?\" asked\nElizabeth.\n\n\"She sees nothing to blame in it,\" replied Anne; \"on the contrary, she\napproves it, and has generally taken me when I have called on Mrs\nSmith.\"\n\n\"Westgate Buildings must have been rather surprised by the appearance\nof a carriage drawn up near its pavement,\" observed Sir Walter.  \"Sir\nHenry Russell's widow, indeed, has no honours to distinguish her arms,\nbut still it is a handsome equipage, and no doubt is well known to\nconvey a Miss Elliot.  A widow Mrs Smith lodging in Westgate Buildings!\nA poor widow barely able to live, between thirty and forty; a mere Mrs\nSmith, an every-day Mrs Smith, of all people and all names in the\nworld, to be the chosen friend of Miss Anne Elliot, and to be preferred\nby her to her own family connections among the nobility of England and\nIreland!  Mrs Smith!  Such a name!\"\n\nMrs Clay, who had been present while all this passed, now thought it\nadvisable to leave the room, and Anne could have said much, and did\nlong to say a little in defence of her friend's not very dissimilar\nclaims to theirs, but her sense of personal respect to her father\nprevented her.  She made no reply.  She left it to himself to\nrecollect, that Mrs Smith was not the only widow in Bath between thirty\nand forty, with little to live on, and no surname of dignity.\n\nAnne kept her appointment; the others kept theirs, and of course she\nheard the next morning that they had had a delightful evening.  She had\nbeen the only one of the set absent, for Sir Walter and Elizabeth had\nnot only been quite at her ladyship's service themselves, but had\nactually been happy to be employed by her in collecting others, and had\nbeen at the trouble of inviting both Lady Russell and Mr Elliot; and Mr\nElliot had made a point of leaving Colonel Wallis early, and Lady\nRussell had fresh arranged all her evening engagements in order to wait\non her.  Anne had the whole history of all that such an evening could\nsupply from Lady Russell.  To her, its greatest interest must be, in\nhaving been very much talked of between her friend and Mr Elliot; in\nhaving been wished for, regretted, and at the same time honoured for\nstaying away in such a cause.  Her kind, compassionate visits to this\nold schoolfellow, sick and reduced, seemed to have quite delighted Mr\nElliot.  He thought her a most extraordinary young woman; in her\ntemper, manners, mind, a model of female excellence.  He could meet\neven Lady Russell in a discussion of her merits; and Anne could not be\ngiven to understand so much by her friend, could not know herself to be\nso highly rated by a sensible man, without many of those agreeable\nsensations which her friend meant to create.\n\nLady Russell was now perfectly decided in her opinion of Mr Elliot.\nShe was as much convinced of his meaning to gain Anne in time as of his\ndeserving her, and was beginning to calculate the number of weeks which\nwould free him from all the remaining restraints of widowhood, and\nleave him at liberty to exert his most open powers of pleasing.  She\nwould not speak to Anne with half the certainty she felt on the\nsubject, she would venture on little more than hints of what might be\nhereafter, of a possible attachment on his side, of the desirableness\nof the alliance, supposing such attachment to be real and returned.\nAnne heard her, and made no violent exclamations; she only smiled,\nblushed, and gently shook her head.\n\n\"I am no match-maker, as you well know,\" said Lady Russell, \"being much\ntoo well aware of the uncertainty of all human events and calculations.\nI only mean that if Mr Elliot should some time hence pay his addresses\nto you, and if you should be disposed to accept him, I think there\nwould be every possibility of your being happy together.  A most\nsuitable connection everybody must consider it, but I think it might be\na very happy one.\"\n\n\"Mr Elliot is an exceedingly agreeable man, and in many respects I\nthink highly of him,\" said Anne; \"but we should not suit.\"\n\nLady Russell let this pass, and only said in rejoinder, \"I own that to\nbe able to regard you as the future mistress of Kellynch, the future\nLady Elliot, to look forward and see you occupying your dear mother's\nplace, succeeding to all her rights, and all her popularity, as well as\nto all her virtues, would be the highest possible gratification to me.\nYou are your mother's self in countenance and disposition; and if I\nmight be allowed to fancy you such as she was, in situation and name,\nand home, presiding and blessing in the same spot, and only superior to\nher in being more highly valued!  My dearest Anne, it would give me\nmore delight than is often felt at my time of life!\"\n\nAnne was obliged to turn away, to rise, to walk to a distant table,\nand, leaning there in pretended employment, try to subdue the feelings\nthis picture excited.  For a few moments her imagination and her heart\nwere bewitched.  The idea of becoming what her mother had been; of\nhaving the precious name of \"Lady Elliot\" first revived in herself; of\nbeing restored to Kellynch, calling it her home again, her home for\never, was a charm which she could not immediately resist.  Lady Russell\nsaid not another word, willing to leave the matter to its own\noperation; and believing that, could Mr Elliot at that moment with\npropriety have spoken for himself!--she believed, in short, what Anne\ndid not believe.  The same image of Mr Elliot speaking for himself\nbrought Anne to composure again.  The charm of Kellynch and of \"Lady\nElliot\" all faded away.  She never could accept him.  And it was not\nonly that her feelings were still adverse to any man save one; her\njudgement, on a serious consideration of the possibilities of such a\ncase was against Mr Elliot.\n\nThough they had now been acquainted a month, she could not be satisfied\nthat she really knew his character.  That he was a sensible man, an\nagreeable man, that he talked well, professed good opinions, seemed to\njudge properly and as a man of principle, this was all clear enough.\nHe certainly knew what was right, nor could she fix on any one article\nof moral duty evidently transgressed; but yet she would have been\nafraid to answer for his conduct.  She distrusted the past, if not the\npresent.  The names which occasionally dropt of former associates, the\nallusions to former practices and pursuits, suggested suspicions not\nfavourable of what he had been.  She saw that there had been bad\nhabits; that Sunday travelling had been a common thing; that there had\nbeen a period of his life (and probably not a short one) when he had\nbeen, at least, careless in all serious matters; and, though he might\nnow think very differently, who could answer for the true sentiments of\na clever, cautious man, grown old enough to appreciate a fair\ncharacter?  How could it ever be ascertained that his mind was truly\ncleansed?\n\nMr Elliot was rational, discreet, polished, but he was not open.  There\nwas never any burst of feeling, any warmth of indignation or delight,\nat the evil or good of others.  This, to Anne, was a decided\nimperfection.  Her early impressions were incurable.  She prized the\nfrank, the open-hearted, the eager character beyond all others.  Warmth\nand enthusiasm did captivate her still.  She felt that she could so\nmuch more depend upon the sincerity of those who sometimes looked or\nsaid a careless or a hasty thing, than of those whose presence of mind\nnever varied, whose tongue never slipped.\n\nMr Elliot was too generally agreeable.  Various as were the tempers in\nher father's house, he pleased them all.  He endured too well, stood\ntoo well with every body.  He had spoken to her with some degree of\nopenness of Mrs Clay; had appeared completely to see what Mrs Clay was\nabout, and to hold her in contempt; and yet Mrs Clay found him as\nagreeable as any body.\n\nLady Russell saw either less or more than her young friend, for she saw\nnothing to excite distrust.  She could not imagine a man more exactly\nwhat he ought to be than Mr Elliot; nor did she ever enjoy a sweeter\nfeeling than the hope of seeing him receive the hand of her beloved\nAnne in Kellynch church, in the course of the following autumn.\n\n\n\nChapter 18\n\n\nIt was the beginning of February; and Anne, having been a month in\nBath, was growing very eager for news from Uppercross and Lyme.  She\nwanted to hear much more than Mary had communicated.  It was three\nweeks since she had heard at all.  She only knew that Henrietta was at\nhome again; and that Louisa, though considered to be recovering fast,\nwas still in Lyme; and she was thinking of them all very intently one\nevening, when a thicker letter than usual from Mary was delivered to\nher; and, to quicken the pleasure and surprise, with Admiral and Mrs\nCroft's compliments.\n\nThe Crofts must be in Bath!  A circumstance to interest her.  They were\npeople whom her heart turned to very naturally.\n\n\"What is this?\" cried Sir Walter.  \"The Crofts have arrived in Bath?\nThe Crofts who rent Kellynch?  What have they brought you?\"\n\n\"A letter from Uppercross Cottage, Sir.\"\n\n\"Oh! those letters are convenient passports.  They secure an\nintroduction.  I should have visited Admiral Croft, however, at any\nrate.  I know what is due to my tenant.\"\n\nAnne could listen no longer; she could not even have told how the poor\nAdmiral's complexion escaped; her letter engrossed her.  It had been\nbegun several days back.\n\n\n\"February 1st.\n\n\"My dear Anne,--I make no apology for my silence, because I know how\nlittle people think of letters in such a place as Bath.  You must be a\ngreat deal too happy to care for Uppercross, which, as you well know,\naffords little to write about.  We have had a very dull Christmas; Mr\nand Mrs Musgrove have not had one dinner party all the holidays.  I do\nnot reckon the Hayters as anybody.  The holidays, however, are over at\nlast:  I believe no children ever had such long ones.  I am sure I had\nnot.  The house was cleared yesterday, except of the little Harvilles;\nbut you will be surprised to hear they have never gone home.  Mrs\nHarville must be an odd mother to part with them so long.  I do not\nunderstand it.  They are not at all nice children, in my opinion; but\nMrs Musgrove seems to like them quite as well, if not better, than her\ngrandchildren.  What dreadful weather we have had!  It may not be felt\nin Bath, with your nice pavements; but in the country it is of some\nconsequence.  I have not had a creature call on me since the second\nweek in January, except Charles Hayter, who had been calling much\noftener than was welcome.  Between ourselves, I think it a great pity\nHenrietta did not remain at Lyme as long as Louisa; it would have kept\nher a little out of his way.  The carriage is gone to-day, to bring\nLouisa and the Harvilles to-morrow.  We are not asked to dine with\nthem, however, till the day after, Mrs Musgrove is so afraid of her\nbeing fatigued by the journey, which is not very likely, considering\nthe care that will be taken of her; and it would be much more\nconvenient to me to dine there to-morrow.  I am glad you find Mr Elliot\nso agreeable, and wish I could be acquainted with him too; but I have\nmy usual luck:  I am always out of the way when any thing desirable is\ngoing on; always the last of my family to be noticed.  What an immense\ntime Mrs Clay has been staying with Elizabeth!  Does she never mean to\ngo away?  But perhaps if she were to leave the room vacant, we might\nnot be invited.  Let me know what you think of this.  I do not expect\nmy children to be asked, you know.  I can leave them at the Great House\nvery well, for a month or six weeks.  I have this moment heard that the\nCrofts are going to Bath almost immediately; they think the Admiral\ngouty.  Charles heard it quite by chance; they have not had the\ncivility to give me any notice, or of offering to take anything.  I do\nnot think they improve at all as neighbours.  We see nothing of them,\nand this is really an instance of gross inattention.  Charles joins me\nin love, and everything proper.  Yours affectionately,\n\n\"Mary M---.\n\n\"I am sorry to say that I am very far from well; and Jemima has just\ntold me that the butcher says there is a bad sore-throat very much\nabout.  I dare say I shall catch it; and my sore-throats, you know, are\nalways worse than anybody's.\"\n\n\nSo ended the first part, which had been afterwards put into an\nenvelope, containing nearly as much more.\n\n\n\"I kept my letter open, that I might send you word how Louisa bore her\njourney, and now I am extremely glad I did, having a great deal to add.\nIn the first place, I had a note from Mrs Croft yesterday, offering to\nconvey anything to you; a very kind, friendly note indeed, addressed to\nme, just as it ought; I shall therefore be able to make my letter as\nlong as I like.  The Admiral does not seem very ill, and I sincerely\nhope Bath will do him all the good he wants.  I shall be truly glad to\nhave them back again.  Our neighbourhood cannot spare such a pleasant\nfamily.  But now for Louisa.  I have something to communicate that will\nastonish you not a little.  She and the Harvilles came on Tuesday very\nsafely, and in the evening we went to ask her how she did, when we were\nrather surprised not to find Captain Benwick of the party, for he had\nbeen invited as well as the Harvilles; and what do you think was the\nreason?  Neither more nor less than his being in love with Louisa, and\nnot choosing to venture to Uppercross till he had had an answer from Mr\nMusgrove; for it was all settled between him and her before she came\naway, and he had written to her father by Captain Harville.  True, upon\nmy honour!  Are not you astonished?  I shall be surprised at least if\nyou ever received a hint of it, for I never did.  Mrs Musgrove protests\nsolemnly that she knew nothing of the matter.  We are all very well\npleased, however, for though it is not equal to her marrying Captain\nWentworth, it is infinitely better than Charles Hayter; and Mr Musgrove\nhas written his consent, and Captain Benwick is expected to-day.  Mrs\nHarville says her husband feels a good deal on his poor sister's\naccount; but, however, Louisa is a great favourite with both.  Indeed,\nMrs Harville and I quite agree that we love her the better for having\nnursed her.  Charles wonders what Captain Wentworth will say; but if\nyou remember, I never thought him attached to Louisa; I never could see\nanything of it.  And this is the end, you see, of Captain Benwick's\nbeing supposed to be an admirer of yours.  How Charles could take such\na thing into his head was always incomprehensible to me.  I hope he\nwill be more agreeable now.  Certainly not a great match for Louisa\nMusgrove, but a million times better than marrying among the Hayters.\"\n\n\nMary need not have feared her sister's being in any degree prepared for\nthe news.  She had never in her life been more astonished.  Captain\nBenwick and Louisa Musgrove!  It was almost too wonderful for belief,\nand it was with the greatest effort that she could remain in the room,\npreserve an air of calmness, and answer the common questions of the\nmoment.  Happily for her, they were not many.  Sir Walter wanted to\nknow whether the Crofts travelled with four horses, and whether they\nwere likely to be situated in such a part of Bath as it might suit Miss\nElliot and himself to visit in; but had little curiosity beyond.\n\n\"How is Mary?\" said Elizabeth; and without waiting for an answer, \"And\npray what brings the Crofts to Bath?\"\n\n\"They come on the Admiral's account.  He is thought to be gouty.\"\n\n\"Gout and decrepitude!\" said Sir Walter.  \"Poor old gentleman.\"\n\n\"Have they any acquaintance here?\" asked Elizabeth.\n\n\"I do not know; but I can hardly suppose that, at Admiral Croft's time\nof life, and in his profession, he should not have many acquaintance in\nsuch a place as this.\"\n\n\"I suspect,\" said Sir Walter coolly, \"that Admiral Croft will be best\nknown in Bath as the renter of Kellynch Hall.  Elizabeth, may we\nventure to present him and his wife in Laura Place?\"\n\n\"Oh, no! I think not.  Situated as we are with Lady Dalrymple, cousins,\nwe ought to be very careful not to embarrass her with acquaintance she\nmight not approve.  If we were not related, it would not signify; but\nas cousins, she would feel scrupulous as to any proposal of ours.  We\nhad better leave the Crofts to find their own level.  There are several\nodd-looking men walking about here, who, I am told, are sailors.  The\nCrofts will associate with them.\"\n\nThis was Sir Walter and Elizabeth's share of interest in the letter;\nwhen Mrs Clay had paid her tribute of more decent attention, in an\nenquiry after Mrs Charles Musgrove, and her fine little boys, Anne was\nat liberty.\n\nIn her own room, she tried to comprehend it.  Well might Charles wonder\nhow Captain Wentworth would feel!  Perhaps he had quitted the field,\nhad given Louisa up, had ceased to love, had found he did not love her.\nShe could not endure the idea of treachery or levity, or anything akin\nto ill usage between him and his friend.  She could not endure that\nsuch a friendship as theirs should be severed unfairly.\n\nCaptain Benwick and Louisa Musgrove!  The high-spirited, joyous-talking\nLouisa Musgrove, and the dejected, thinking, feeling, reading, Captain\nBenwick, seemed each of them everything that would not suit the other.\nTheir minds most dissimilar!  Where could have been the attraction?\nThe answer soon presented itself.  It had been in situation.  They had\nbeen thrown together several weeks; they had been living in the same\nsmall family party:  since Henrietta's coming away, they must have been\ndepending almost entirely on each other, and Louisa, just recovering\nfrom illness, had been in an interesting state, and Captain Benwick was\nnot inconsolable.  That was a point which Anne had not been able to\navoid suspecting before; and instead of drawing the same conclusion as\nMary, from the present course of events, they served only to confirm\nthe idea of his having felt some dawning of tenderness toward herself.\nShe did not mean, however, to derive much more from it to gratify her\nvanity, than Mary might have allowed.  She was persuaded that any\ntolerably pleasing young woman who had listened and seemed to feel for\nhim would have received the same compliment.  He had an affectionate\nheart.  He must love somebody.\n\nShe saw no reason against their being happy.  Louisa had fine naval\nfervour to begin with, and they would soon grow more alike.  He would\ngain cheerfulness, and she would learn to be an enthusiast for Scott\nand Lord Byron; nay, that was probably learnt already; of course they\nhad fallen in love over poetry.  The idea of Louisa Musgrove turned\ninto a person of literary taste, and sentimental reflection was\namusing, but she had no doubt of its being so.  The day at Lyme, the\nfall from the Cobb, might influence her health, her nerves, her\ncourage, her character to the end of her life, as thoroughly as it\nappeared to have influenced her fate.\n\nThe conclusion of the whole was, that if the woman who had been\nsensible of Captain Wentworth's merits could be allowed to prefer\nanother man, there was nothing in the engagement to excite lasting\nwonder; and if Captain Wentworth lost no friend by it, certainly\nnothing to be regretted.  No, it was not regret which made Anne's heart\nbeat in spite of herself, and brought the colour into her cheeks when\nshe thought of Captain Wentworth unshackled and free.  She had some\nfeelings which she was ashamed to investigate.  They were too much like\njoy, senseless joy!\n\nShe longed to see the Crofts; but when the meeting took place, it was\nevident that no rumour of the news had yet reached them.  The visit of\nceremony was paid and returned; and Louisa Musgrove was mentioned, and\nCaptain Benwick, too, without even half a smile.\n\nThe Crofts had placed themselves in lodgings in Gay Street, perfectly\nto Sir Walter's satisfaction.  He was not at all ashamed of the\nacquaintance, and did, in fact, think and talk a great deal more about\nthe Admiral, than the Admiral ever thought or talked about him.\n\nThe Crofts knew quite as many people in Bath as they wished for, and\nconsidered their intercourse with the Elliots as a mere matter of form,\nand not in the least likely to afford them any pleasure.  They brought\nwith them their country habit of being almost always together.  He was\nordered to walk to keep off the gout, and Mrs Croft seemed to go shares\nwith him in everything, and to walk for her life to do him good.  Anne\nsaw them wherever she went.  Lady Russell took her out in her carriage\nalmost every morning, and she never failed to think of them, and never\nfailed to see them.  Knowing their feelings as she did, it was a most\nattractive picture of happiness to her.  She always watched them as\nlong as she could, delighted to fancy she understood what they might be\ntalking of, as they walked along in happy independence, or equally\ndelighted to see the Admiral's hearty shake of the hand when he\nencountered an old friend, and observe their eagerness of conversation\nwhen occasionally forming into a little knot of the navy, Mrs Croft\nlooking as intelligent and keen as any of the officers around her.\n\nAnne was too much engaged with Lady Russell to be often walking\nherself; but it so happened that one morning, about a week or ten days\nafter the Croft's arrival, it suited her best to leave her friend, or\nher friend's carriage, in the lower part of the town, and return alone\nto Camden Place, and in walking up Milsom Street she had the good\nfortune to meet with the Admiral.  He was standing by himself at a\nprintshop window, with his hands behind him, in earnest contemplation\nof some print, and she not only might have passed him unseen, but was\nobliged to touch as well as address him before she could catch his\nnotice.  When he did perceive and acknowledge her, however, it was done\nwith all his usual frankness and good humour.  \"Ha! is it you?  Thank\nyou, thank you.  This is treating me like a friend.  Here I am, you\nsee, staring at a picture.  I can never get by this shop without\nstopping.  But what a thing here is, by way of a boat!  Do look at it.\nDid you ever see the like?  What queer fellows your fine painters must\nbe, to think that anybody would venture their lives in such a shapeless\nold cockleshell as that?  And yet here are two gentlemen stuck up in it\nmightily at their ease, and looking about them at the rocks and\nmountains, as if they were not to be upset the next moment, which they\ncertainly must be.  I wonder where that boat was built!\" (laughing\nheartily); \"I would not venture over a horsepond in it.  Well,\"\n(turning away), \"now, where are you bound?  Can I go anywhere for you,\nor with you?  Can I be of any use?\"\n\n\"None, I thank you, unless you will give me the pleasure of your\ncompany the little way our road lies together.  I am going home.\"\n\n\n\"That I will, with all my heart, and farther, too.  Yes, yes we will\nhave a snug walk together, and I have something to tell you as we go\nalong.  There, take my arm; that's right; I do not feel comfortable if\nI have not a woman there.  Lord! what a boat it is!\" taking a last look\nat the picture, as they began to be in motion.\n\n\"Did you say that you had something to tell me, sir?\"\n\n\"Yes, I have, presently.  But here comes a friend, Captain Brigden; I\nshall only say, 'How d'ye do?' as we pass, however.  I shall not stop.\n'How d'ye do?'  Brigden stares to see anybody with me but my wife.\nShe, poor soul, is tied by the leg.  She has a blister on one of her\nheels, as large as a three-shilling piece.  If you look across the\nstreet, you will see Admiral Brand coming down and his brother.  Shabby\nfellows, both of them!  I am glad they are not on this side of the way.\nSophy cannot bear them.  They played me a pitiful trick once: got away\nwith some of my best men.  I will tell you the whole story another\ntime.  There comes old Sir Archibald Drew and his grandson.  Look, he\nsees us; he kisses his hand to you; he takes you for my wife.  Ah! the\npeace has come too soon for that younker.  Poor old Sir Archibald!  How\ndo you like Bath, Miss Elliot?  It suits us very well.  We are always\nmeeting with some old friend or other; the streets full of them every\nmorning; sure to have plenty of chat; and then we get away from them\nall, and shut ourselves in our lodgings, and draw in our chairs, and\nare as snug as if we were at Kellynch, ay, or as we used to be even at\nNorth Yarmouth and Deal.  We do not like our lodgings here the worse, I\ncan tell you, for putting us in mind of those we first had at North\nYarmouth.  The wind blows through one of the cupboards just in the same\nway.\"\n\nWhen they were got a little farther, Anne ventured to press again for\nwhat he had to communicate.  She hoped when clear of Milsom Street to\nhave her curiosity gratified; but she was still obliged to wait, for\nthe Admiral had made up his mind not to begin till they had gained the\ngreater space and quiet of Belmont; and as she was not really Mrs\nCroft, she must let him have his own way.  As soon as they were fairly\nascending Belmont, he began--\n\n\"Well, now you shall hear something that will surprise you.  But first\nof all, you must tell me the name of the young lady I am going to talk\nabout.  That young lady, you know, that we have all been so concerned\nfor.  The Miss Musgrove, that all this has been happening to.  Her\nChristian name:  I always forget her Christian name.\"\n\nAnne had been ashamed to appear to comprehend so soon as she really\ndid; but now she could safely suggest the name of \"Louisa.\"\n\n\"Ay, ay, Miss Louisa Musgrove, that is the name.  I wish young ladies\nhad not such a number of fine Christian names.  I should never be out\nif they were all Sophys, or something of that sort.  Well, this Miss\nLouisa, we all thought, you know, was to marry Frederick.  He was\ncourting her week after week.  The only wonder was, what they could be\nwaiting for, till the business at Lyme came; then, indeed, it was clear\nenough that they must wait till her brain was set to right.  But even\nthen there was something odd in their way of going on.  Instead of\nstaying at Lyme, he went off to Plymouth, and then he went off to see\nEdward.  When we came back from Minehead he was gone down to Edward's,\nand there he has been ever since.  We have seen nothing of him since\nNovember.  Even Sophy could not understand it.  But now, the matter has\ntaken the strangest turn of all; for this young lady, the same Miss\nMusgrove, instead of being to marry Frederick, is to marry James\nBenwick.  You know James Benwick.\"\n\n\"A little.  I am a little acquainted with Captain Benwick.\"\n\n\"Well, she is to marry him.  Nay, most likely they are married already,\nfor I do not know what they should wait for.\"\n\n\"I thought Captain Benwick a very pleasing young man,\" said Anne, \"and\nI understand that he bears an excellent character.\"\n\n\"Oh! yes, yes, there is not a word to be said against James Benwick.\nHe is only a commander, it is true, made last summer, and these are bad\ntimes for getting on, but he has not another fault that I know of.  An\nexcellent, good-hearted fellow, I assure you; a very active, zealous\nofficer too, which is more than you would think for, perhaps, for that\nsoft sort of manner does not do him justice.\"\n\n\"Indeed you are mistaken there, sir; I should never augur want of\nspirit from Captain Benwick's manners.  I thought them particularly\npleasing, and I will answer for it, they would generally please.\"\n\n\"Well, well, ladies are the best judges; but James Benwick is rather\ntoo piano for me; and though very likely it is all our partiality,\nSophy and I cannot help thinking Frederick's manners better than his.\nThere is something about Frederick more to our taste.\"\n\nAnne was caught.  She had only meant to oppose the too common idea of\nspirit and gentleness being incompatible with each other, not at all to\nrepresent Captain Benwick's manners as the very best that could\npossibly be; and, after a little hesitation, she was beginning to say,\n\"I was not entering into any comparison of the two friends,\" but the\nAdmiral interrupted her with--\n\n\"And the thing is certainly true.  It is not a mere bit of gossip.  We\nhave it from Frederick himself.  His sister had a letter from him\nyesterday, in which he tells us of it, and he had just had it in a\nletter from Harville, written upon the spot, from Uppercross.  I fancy\nthey are all at Uppercross.\"\n\nThis was an opportunity which Anne could not resist; she said,\ntherefore, \"I hope, Admiral, I hope there is nothing in the style of\nCaptain Wentworth's letter to make you and Mrs Croft particularly\nuneasy.  It did seem, last autumn, as if there were an attachment\nbetween him and Louisa Musgrove; but I hope it may be understood to\nhave worn out on each side equally, and without violence.  I hope his\nletter does not breathe the spirit of an ill-used man.\"\n\n\"Not at all, not at all; there is not an oath or a murmur from\nbeginning to end.\"\n\nAnne looked down to hide her smile.\n\n\"No, no; Frederick is not a man to whine and complain; he has too much\nspirit for that.  If the girl likes another man better, it is very fit\nshe should have him.\"\n\n\"Certainly.  But what I mean is, that I hope there is nothing in\nCaptain Wentworth's manner of writing to make you suppose he thinks\nhimself ill-used by his friend, which might appear, you know, without\nits being absolutely said.  I should be very sorry that such a\nfriendship as has subsisted between him and Captain Benwick should be\ndestroyed, or even wounded, by a circumstance of this sort.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, I understand you.  But there is nothing at all of that\nnature in the letter.  He does not give the least fling at Benwick;\ndoes not so much as say, 'I wonder at it, I have a reason of my own for\nwondering at it.'  No, you would not guess, from his way of writing,\nthat he had ever thought of this Miss (what's her name?) for himself.\nHe very handsomely hopes they will be happy together; and there is\nnothing very unforgiving in that, I think.\"\n\nAnne did not receive the perfect conviction which the Admiral meant to\nconvey, but it would have been useless to press the enquiry farther.\nShe therefore satisfied herself with common-place remarks or quiet\nattention, and the Admiral had it all his own way.\n\n\"Poor Frederick!\" said he at last.  \"Now he must begin all over again\nwith somebody else.  I think we must get him to Bath.  Sophy must\nwrite, and beg him to come to Bath.  Here are pretty girls enough, I am\nsure.  It would be of no use to go to Uppercross again, for that other\nMiss Musgrove, I find, is bespoke by her cousin, the young parson.  Do\nnot you think, Miss Elliot, we had better try to get him to Bath?\"\n\n\n\nChapter 19\n\n\nWhile Admiral Croft was taking this walk with Anne, and expressing his\nwish of getting Captain Wentworth to Bath, Captain Wentworth was\nalready on his way thither.  Before Mrs Croft had written, he was\narrived, and the very next time Anne walked out, she saw him.\n\nMr Elliot was attending his two cousins and Mrs Clay.  They were in\nMilsom Street.  It began to rain, not much, but enough to make shelter\ndesirable for women, and quite enough to make it very desirable for\nMiss Elliot to have the advantage of being conveyed home in Lady\nDalrymple's carriage, which was seen waiting at a little distance; she,\nAnne, and Mrs Clay, therefore, turned into Molland's, while Mr Elliot\nstepped to Lady Dalrymple, to request her assistance.  He soon joined\nthem again, successful, of course; Lady Dalrymple would be most happy\nto take them home, and would call for them in a few minutes.\n\nHer ladyship's carriage was a barouche, and did not hold more than four\nwith any comfort.  Miss Carteret was with her mother; consequently it\nwas not reasonable to expect accommodation for all the three Camden\nPlace ladies.  There could be no doubt as to Miss Elliot.  Whoever\nsuffered inconvenience, she must suffer none, but it occupied a little\ntime to settle the point of civility between the other two.  The rain\nwas a mere trifle, and Anne was most sincere in preferring a walk with\nMr Elliot.  But the rain was also a mere trifle to Mrs Clay; she would\nhardly allow it even to drop at all, and her boots were so thick! much\nthicker than Miss Anne's; and, in short, her civility rendered her\nquite as anxious to be left to walk with Mr Elliot as Anne could be,\nand it was discussed between them with a generosity so polite and so\ndetermined, that the others were obliged to settle it for them; Miss\nElliot maintaining that Mrs Clay had a little cold already, and Mr\nElliot deciding on appeal, that his cousin Anne's boots were rather the\nthickest.\n\nIt was fixed accordingly, that Mrs Clay should be of the party in the\ncarriage; and they had just reached this point, when Anne, as she sat\nnear the window, descried, most decidedly and distinctly, Captain\nWentworth walking down the street.\n\nHer start was perceptible only to herself; but she instantly felt that\nshe was the greatest simpleton in the world, the most unaccountable and\nabsurd!  For a few minutes she saw nothing before her; it was all\nconfusion.  She was lost, and when she had scolded back her senses, she\nfound the others still waiting for the carriage, and Mr Elliot (always\nobliging) just setting off for Union Street on a commission of Mrs\nClay's.\n\nShe now felt a great inclination to go to the outer door; she wanted to\nsee if it rained.  Why was she to suspect herself of another motive?\nCaptain Wentworth must be out of sight.  She left her seat, she would\ngo; one half of her should not be always so much wiser than the other\nhalf, or always suspecting the other of being worse than it was.  She\nwould see if it rained.  She was sent back, however, in a moment by the\nentrance of Captain Wentworth himself, among a party of gentlemen and\nladies, evidently his acquaintance, and whom he must have joined a\nlittle below Milsom Street.  He was more obviously struck and confused\nby the sight of her than she had ever observed before; he looked quite\nred.  For the first time, since their renewed acquaintance, she felt\nthat she was betraying the least sensibility of the two.  She had the\nadvantage of him in the preparation of the last few moments.  All the\noverpowering, blinding, bewildering, first effects of strong surprise\nwere over with her.  Still, however, she had enough to feel!  It was\nagitation, pain, pleasure, a something between delight and misery.\n\nHe spoke to her, and then turned away.  The character of his manner was\nembarrassment.  She could not have called it either cold or friendly,\nor anything so certainly as embarrassed.\n\nAfter a short interval, however, he came towards her, and spoke again.\nMutual enquiries on common subjects passed:  neither of them, probably,\nmuch the wiser for what they heard, and Anne continuing fully sensible\nof his being less at ease than formerly.  They had by dint of being so\nvery much together, got to speak to each other with a considerable\nportion of apparent indifference and calmness; but he could not do it\nnow.  Time had changed him, or Louisa had changed him.  There was\nconsciousness of some sort or other.  He looked very well, not as if he\nhad been suffering in health or spirits, and he talked of Uppercross,\nof the Musgroves, nay, even of Louisa, and had even a momentary look of\nhis own arch significance as he named her; but yet it was Captain\nWentworth not comfortable, not easy, not able to feign that he was.\n\nIt did not surprise, but it grieved Anne to observe that Elizabeth\nwould not know him.  She saw that he saw Elizabeth, that Elizabeth saw\nhim, that there was complete internal recognition on each side; she was\nconvinced that he was ready to be acknowledged as an acquaintance,\nexpecting it, and she had the pain of seeing her sister turn away with\nunalterable coldness.\n\nLady Dalrymple's carriage, for which Miss Elliot was growing very\nimpatient, now drew up; the servant came in to announce it.  It was\nbeginning to rain again, and altogether there was a delay, and a\nbustle, and a talking, which must make all the little crowd in the shop\nunderstand that Lady Dalrymple was calling to convey Miss Elliot.  At\nlast Miss Elliot and her friend, unattended but by the servant, (for\nthere was no cousin returned), were walking off; and Captain Wentworth,\nwatching them, turned again to Anne, and by manner, rather than words,\nwas offering his services to her.\n\n\"I am much obliged to you,\" was her answer, \"but I am not going with\nthem.  The carriage would not accommodate so many.  I walk:  I prefer\nwalking.\"\n\n\"But it rains.\"\n\n\"Oh! very little,  Nothing that I regard.\"\n\nAfter a moment's pause he said:  \"Though I came only yesterday, I have\nequipped myself properly for Bath already, you see,\" (pointing to a new\numbrella); \"I wish you would make use of it, if you are determined to\nwalk; though I think it would be more prudent to let me get you a\nchair.\"\n\nShe was very much obliged to him, but declined it all, repeating her\nconviction, that the rain would come to nothing at present, and adding,\n\"I am only waiting for Mr Elliot.  He will be here in a moment, I am\nsure.\"\n\nShe had hardly spoken the words when Mr Elliot walked in.  Captain\nWentworth recollected him perfectly.  There was no difference between\nhim and the man who had stood on the steps at Lyme, admiring Anne as\nshe passed, except in the air and look and manner of the privileged\nrelation and friend.  He came in with eagerness, appeared to see and\nthink only of her, apologised for his stay, was grieved to have kept\nher waiting, and anxious to get her away without further loss of time\nand before the rain increased; and in another moment they walked off\ntogether, her arm under his, a gentle and embarrassed glance, and a\n\"Good morning to you!\" being all that she had time for, as she passed\naway.\n\nAs soon as they were out of sight, the ladies of Captain Wentworth's\nparty began talking of them.\n\n\"Mr Elliot does not dislike his cousin, I fancy?\"\n\n\"Oh! no, that is clear enough.  One can guess what will happen there.\nHe is always with them; half lives in the family, I believe.  What a\nvery good-looking man!\"\n\n\"Yes, and Miss Atkinson, who dined with him once at the Wallises, says\nhe is the most agreeable man she ever was in company with.\"\n\n\"She is pretty, I think; Anne Elliot; very pretty, when one comes to\nlook at her.  It is not the fashion to say so, but I confess I admire\nher more than her sister.\"\n\n\"Oh! so do I.\"\n\n\"And so do I.  No comparison.  But the men are all wild after Miss\nElliot.  Anne is too delicate for them.\"\n\nAnne would have been particularly obliged to her cousin, if he would\nhave walked by her side all the way to Camden Place, without saying a\nword.  She had never found it so difficult to listen to him, though\nnothing could exceed his solicitude and care, and though his subjects\nwere principally such as were wont to be always interesting: praise,\nwarm, just, and discriminating, of Lady Russell, and insinuations\nhighly rational against Mrs Clay.  But just now she could think only of\nCaptain Wentworth.  She could not understand his present feelings,\nwhether he were really suffering much from disappointment or not; and\ntill that point were settled, she could not be quite herself.\n\nShe hoped to be wise and reasonable in time; but alas! alas!  she must\nconfess to herself that she was not wise yet.\n\nAnother circumstance very essential for her to know, was how long he\nmeant to be in Bath; he had not mentioned it, or she could not\nrecollect it.  He might be only passing through.  But it was more\nprobable that he should be come to stay.  In that case, so liable as\nevery body was to meet every body in Bath, Lady Russell would in all\nlikelihood see him somewhere.  Would she recollect him?  How would it\nall be?\n\nShe had already been obliged to tell Lady Russell that Louisa Musgrove\nwas to marry Captain Benwick.  It had cost her something to encounter\nLady Russell's surprise; and now, if she were by any chance to be\nthrown into company with Captain Wentworth, her imperfect knowledge of\nthe matter might add another shade of prejudice against him.\n\nThe following morning Anne was out with her friend, and for the first\nhour, in an incessant and fearful sort of watch for him in vain; but at\nlast, in returning down Pulteney Street, she distinguished him on the\nright hand pavement at such a distance as to have him in view the\ngreater part of the street.  There were many other men about him, many\ngroups walking the same way, but there was no mistaking him.  She\nlooked instinctively at Lady Russell; but not from any mad idea of her\nrecognising him so soon as she did herself.  No, it was not to be\nsupposed that Lady Russell would perceive him till they were nearly\nopposite.  She looked at her however, from time to time, anxiously; and\nwhen the moment approached which must point him out, though not daring\nto look again (for her own countenance she knew was unfit to be seen),\nshe was yet perfectly conscious of Lady Russell's eyes being turned\nexactly in the direction for him--of her being, in short, intently\nobserving him.  She could thoroughly comprehend the sort of fascination\nhe must possess over Lady Russell's mind, the difficulty it must be for\nher to withdraw her eyes, the astonishment she must be feeling that\neight or nine years should have passed over him, and in foreign climes\nand in active service too, without robbing him of one personal grace!\n\nAt last, Lady Russell drew back her head.  \"Now, how would she speak of\nhim?\"\n\n\"You will wonder,\" said she, \"what has been fixing my eye so long; but\nI was looking after some window-curtains, which Lady Alicia and Mrs\nFrankland were telling me of last night.  They described the\ndrawing-room window-curtains of one of the houses on this side of the\nway, and this part of the street, as being the handsomest and best hung\nof any in Bath, but could not recollect the exact number, and I have\nbeen trying to find out which it could be; but I confess I can see no\ncurtains hereabouts that answer their description.\"\n\nAnne sighed and blushed and smiled, in pity and disdain, either at her\nfriend or herself.  The part which provoked her most, was that in all\nthis waste of foresight and caution, she should have lost the right\nmoment for seeing whether he saw them.\n\nA day or two passed without producing anything.  The theatre or the\nrooms, where he was most likely to be, were not fashionable enough for\nthe Elliots, whose evening amusements were solely in the elegant\nstupidity of private parties, in which they were getting more and more\nengaged; and Anne, wearied of such a state of stagnation, sick of\nknowing nothing, and fancying herself stronger because her strength was\nnot tried, was quite impatient for the concert evening.  It was a\nconcert for the benefit of a person patronised by Lady Dalrymple.  Of\ncourse they must attend.  It was really expected to be a good one, and\nCaptain Wentworth was very fond of music.  If she could only have a few\nminutes conversation with him again, she fancied she should be\nsatisfied; and as to the power of addressing him, she felt all over\ncourage if the opportunity occurred.  Elizabeth had turned from him,\nLady Russell overlooked him; her nerves were strengthened by these\ncircumstances; she felt that she owed him attention.\n\nShe had once partly promised Mrs Smith to spend the evening with her;\nbut in a short hurried call she excused herself and put it off, with\nthe more decided promise of a longer visit on the morrow.  Mrs Smith\ngave a most good-humoured acquiescence.\n\n\"By all means,\" said she; \"only tell me all about it, when you do come.\nWho is your party?\"\n\nAnne named them all.  Mrs Smith made no reply; but when she was leaving\nher said, and with an expression half serious, half arch, \"Well, I\nheartily wish your concert may answer; and do not fail me to-morrow if\nyou can come; for I begin to have a foreboding that I may not have many\nmore visits from you.\"\n\nAnne was startled and confused; but after standing in a moment's\nsuspense, was obliged, and not sorry to be obliged, to hurry away.\n\n\n\nChapter 20\n\n\nSir Walter, his two daughters, and Mrs Clay, were the earliest of all\ntheir party at the rooms in the evening; and as Lady Dalrymple must be\nwaited for, they took their station by one of the fires in the Octagon\nRoom.  But hardly were they so settled, when the door opened again, and\nCaptain Wentworth walked in alone.  Anne was the nearest to him, and\nmaking yet a little advance, she instantly spoke.  He was preparing\nonly to bow and pass on, but her gentle \"How do you do?\" brought him\nout of the straight line to stand near her, and make enquiries in\nreturn, in spite of the formidable father and sister in the back\nground.  Their being in the back ground was a support to Anne; she knew\nnothing of their looks, and felt equal to everything which she believed\nright to be done.\n\nWhile they were speaking, a whispering between her father and Elizabeth\ncaught her ear.  She could not distinguish, but she must guess the\nsubject; and on Captain Wentworth's making a distant bow, she\ncomprehended that her father had judged so well as to give him that\nsimple acknowledgement of acquaintance, and she was just in time by a\nside glance to see a slight curtsey from Elizabeth herself.  This,\nthough late, and reluctant, and ungracious, was yet better than\nnothing, and her spirits improved.\n\nAfter talking, however, of the weather, and Bath, and the concert,\ntheir conversation began to flag, and so little was said at last, that\nshe was expecting him to go every moment, but he did not; he seemed in\nno hurry to leave her; and presently with renewed spirit, with a little\nsmile, a little glow, he said--\n\n\"I have hardly seen you since our day at Lyme.  I am afraid you must\nhave suffered from the shock, and the more from its not overpowering\nyou at the time.\"\n\nShe assured him that she had not.\n\n\"It was a frightful hour,\" said he, \"a frightful day!\" and he passed\nhis hand across his eyes, as if the remembrance were still too painful,\nbut in a moment, half smiling again, added, \"The day has produced some\neffects however; has had some consequences which must be considered as\nthe very reverse of frightful.  When you had the presence of mind to\nsuggest that Benwick would be the properest person to fetch a surgeon,\nyou could have little idea of his being eventually one of those most\nconcerned in her recovery.\"\n\n\"Certainly I could have none.  But it appears--I should hope it would\nbe a very happy match.  There are on both sides good principles and\ngood temper.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said he, looking not exactly forward; \"but there, I think, ends\nthe resemblance.  With all my soul I wish them happy, and rejoice over\nevery circumstance in favour of it.  They have no difficulties to\ncontend with at home, no opposition, no caprice, no delays.  The\nMusgroves are behaving like themselves, most honourably and kindly,\nonly anxious with true parental hearts to promote their daughter's\ncomfort.  All this is much, very much in favour of their happiness;\nmore than perhaps--\"\n\nHe stopped.  A sudden recollection seemed to occur, and to give him\nsome taste of that emotion which was reddening Anne's cheeks and fixing\nher eyes on the ground.  After clearing his throat, however, he\nproceeded thus--\n\n\"I confess that I do think there is a disparity, too great a disparity,\nand in a point no less essential than mind.  I regard Louisa Musgrove\nas a very amiable, sweet-tempered girl, and not deficient in\nunderstanding, but Benwick is something more.  He is a clever man, a\nreading man; and I confess, that I do consider his attaching himself to\nher with some surprise.  Had it been the effect of gratitude, had he\nlearnt to love her, because he believed her to be preferring him, it\nwould have been another thing.  But I have no reason to suppose it so.\nIt seems, on the contrary, to have been a perfectly spontaneous,\nuntaught feeling on his side, and this surprises me.  A man like him,\nin his situation! with a heart pierced, wounded, almost broken!  Fanny\nHarville was a very superior creature, and his attachment to her was\nindeed attachment.  A man does not recover from such a devotion of the\nheart to such a woman.  He ought not; he does not.\"\n\nEither from the consciousness, however, that his friend had recovered,\nor from other consciousness, he went no farther; and Anne who, in spite\nof the agitated voice in which the latter part had been uttered, and in\nspite of all the various noises of the room, the almost ceaseless slam\nof the door, and ceaseless buzz of persons walking through, had\ndistinguished every word, was struck, gratified, confused, and\nbeginning to breathe very quick, and feel an hundred things in a\nmoment.  It was impossible for her to enter on such a subject; and yet,\nafter a pause, feeling the necessity of speaking, and having not the\nsmallest wish for a total change, she only deviated so far as to say--\n\n\"You were a good while at Lyme, I think?\"\n\n\"About a fortnight.  I could not leave it till Louisa's doing well was\nquite ascertained.  I had been too deeply concerned in the mischief to\nbe soon at peace.  It had been my doing, solely mine.  She would not\nhave been obstinate if I had not been weak.  The country round Lyme is\nvery fine.  I walked and rode a great deal; and the more I saw, the\nmore I found to admire.\"\n\n\"I should very much like to see Lyme again,\" said Anne.\n\n\"Indeed!  I should not have supposed that you could have found anything\nin Lyme to inspire such a feeling.  The horror and distress you were\ninvolved in, the stretch of mind, the wear of spirits!  I should have\nthought your last impressions of Lyme must have been strong disgust.\"\n\n\"The last hours were certainly very painful,\" replied Anne; \"but when\npain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure.  One does\nnot love a place the less for having suffered in it, unless it has been\nall suffering, nothing but suffering, which was by no means the case at\nLyme.  We were only in anxiety and distress during the last two hours,\nand previously there had been a great deal of enjoyment.  So much\nnovelty and beauty! I have travelled so little, that every fresh place\nwould be interesting to me; but there is real beauty at Lyme; and in\nshort\" (with a faint blush at some recollections), \"altogether my\nimpressions of the place are very agreeable.\"\n\nAs she ceased, the entrance door opened again, and the very party\nappeared for whom they were waiting.  \"Lady Dalrymple, Lady Dalrymple,\"\nwas the rejoicing sound; and with all the eagerness compatible with\nanxious elegance, Sir Walter and his two ladies stepped forward to meet\nher.  Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret, escorted by Mr Elliot and\nColonel Wallis, who had happened to arrive nearly at the same instant,\nadvanced into the room.  The others joined them, and it was a group in\nwhich Anne found herself also necessarily included.  She was divided\nfrom Captain Wentworth.  Their interesting, almost too interesting\nconversation must be broken up for a time, but slight was the penance\ncompared with the happiness which brought it on!  She had learnt, in\nthe last ten minutes, more of his feelings towards Louisa, more of all\nhis feelings than she dared to think of; and she gave herself up to the\ndemands of the party, to the needful civilities of the moment, with\nexquisite, though agitated sensations.  She was in good humour with\nall.  She had received ideas which disposed her to be courteous and\nkind to all, and to pity every one, as being less happy than herself.\n\nThe delightful emotions were a little subdued, when on stepping back\nfrom the group, to be joined again by Captain Wentworth, she saw that\nhe was gone.  She was just in time to see him turn into the Concert\nRoom.  He was gone; he had disappeared, she felt a moment's regret.\nBut \"they should meet again.  He would look for her, he would find her\nout before the evening were over, and at present, perhaps, it was as\nwell to be asunder.  She was in need of a little interval for\nrecollection.\"\n\nUpon Lady Russell's appearance soon afterwards, the whole party was\ncollected, and all that remained was to marshal themselves, and proceed\ninto the Concert Room; and be of all the consequence in their power,\ndraw as many eyes, excite as many whispers, and disturb as many people\nas they could.\n\nVery, very happy were both Elizabeth and Anne Elliot as they walked in.\nElizabeth arm in arm with Miss Carteret, and looking on the broad back\nof the dowager Viscountess Dalrymple before her, had nothing to wish\nfor which did not seem within her reach; and Anne--but it would be an\ninsult to the nature of Anne's felicity, to draw any comparison between\nit and her sister's; the origin of one all selfish vanity, of the other\nall generous attachment.\n\nAnne saw nothing, thought nothing of the brilliancy of the room.  Her\nhappiness was from within.  Her eyes were bright and her cheeks glowed;\nbut she knew nothing about it.  She was thinking only of the last half\nhour, and as they passed to their seats, her mind took a hasty range\nover it.  His choice of subjects, his expressions, and still more his\nmanner and look, had been such as she could see in only one light.  His\nopinion of Louisa Musgrove's inferiority, an opinion which he had\nseemed solicitous to give, his wonder at Captain Benwick, his feelings\nas to a first, strong attachment; sentences begun which he could not\nfinish, his half averted eyes and more than half expressive glance,\nall, all declared that he had a heart returning to her at least; that\nanger, resentment, avoidance, were no more; and that they were\nsucceeded, not merely by friendship and regard, but by the tenderness\nof the past.  Yes, some share of the tenderness of the past.  She could\nnot contemplate the change as implying less.  He must love her.\n\nThese were thoughts, with their attendant visions, which occupied and\nflurried her too much to leave her any power of observation; and she\npassed along the room without having a glimpse of him, without even\ntrying to discern him.  When their places were determined on, and they\nwere all properly arranged, she looked round to see if he should happen\nto be in the same part of the room, but he was not; her eye could not\nreach him; and the concert being just opening, she must consent for a\ntime to be happy in a humbler way.\n\nThe party was divided and disposed of on two contiguous benches: Anne\nwas among those on the foremost, and Mr Elliot had manoeuvred so well,\nwith the assistance of his friend Colonel Wallis, as to have a seat by\nher.  Miss Elliot, surrounded by her cousins, and the principal object\nof Colonel Wallis's gallantry, was quite contented.\n\nAnne's mind was in a most favourable state for the entertainment of the\nevening; it was just occupation enough:  she had feelings for the\ntender, spirits for the gay, attention for the scientific, and patience\nfor the wearisome; and had never liked a concert better, at least\nduring the first act.  Towards the close of it, in the interval\nsucceeding an Italian song, she explained the words of the song to Mr\nElliot.  They had a concert bill between them.\n\n\"This,\" said she, \"is nearly the sense, or rather the meaning of the\nwords, for certainly the sense of an Italian love-song must not be\ntalked of, but it is as nearly the meaning as I can give; for I do not\npretend to understand the language.  I am a very poor Italian scholar.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, I see you are.  I see you know nothing of the matter.  You\nhave only knowledge enough of the language to translate at sight these\ninverted, transposed, curtailed Italian lines, into clear,\ncomprehensible, elegant English.  You need not say anything more of\nyour ignorance.  Here is complete proof.\"\n\n\"I will not oppose such kind politeness; but I should be sorry to be\nexamined by a real proficient.\"\n\n\"I have not had the pleasure of visiting in Camden Place so long,\"\nreplied he, \"without knowing something of Miss Anne Elliot; and I do\nregard her as one who is too modest for the world in general to be\naware of half her accomplishments, and too highly accomplished for\nmodesty to be natural in any other woman.\"\n\n\"For shame! for shame! this is too much flattery.  I forget what we are\nto have next,\" turning to the bill.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" said Mr Elliot, speaking low, \"I have had a longer\nacquaintance with your character than you are aware of.\"\n\n\"Indeed!  How so?  You can have been acquainted with it only since I\ncame to Bath, excepting as you might hear me previously spoken of in my\nown family.\"\n\n\"I knew you by report long before you came to Bath.  I had heard you\ndescribed by those who knew you intimately.  I have been acquainted\nwith you by character many years.  Your person, your disposition,\naccomplishments, manner; they were all present to me.\"\n\nMr Elliot was not disappointed in the interest he hoped to raise.  No\none can withstand the charm of such a mystery.  To have been described\nlong ago to a recent acquaintance, by nameless people, is irresistible;\nand Anne was all curiosity.  She wondered, and questioned him eagerly;\nbut in vain.  He delighted in being asked, but he would not tell.\n\n\"No, no, some time or other, perhaps, but not now.  He would mention no\nnames now; but such, he could assure her, had been the fact.  He had\nmany years ago received such a description of Miss Anne Elliot as had\ninspired him with the highest idea of her merit, and excited the\nwarmest curiosity to know her.\"\n\nAnne could think of no one so likely to have spoken with partiality of\nher many years ago as the Mr Wentworth of Monkford, Captain Wentworth's\nbrother.  He might have been in Mr Elliot's company, but she had not\ncourage to ask the question.\n\n\"The name of Anne Elliot,\" said he, \"has long had an interesting sound\nto me.  Very long has it possessed a charm over my fancy; and, if I\ndared, I would breathe my wishes that the name might never change.\"\n\nSuch, she believed, were his words; but scarcely had she received their\nsound, than her attention was caught by other sounds immediately behind\nher, which rendered every thing else trivial.  Her father and Lady\nDalrymple were speaking.\n\n\"A well-looking man,\" said Sir Walter, \"a very well-looking man.\"\n\n\"A very fine young man indeed!\" said Lady Dalrymple.  \"More air than\none often sees in Bath.  Irish, I dare say.\"\n\n\"No, I just know his name.  A bowing acquaintance.  Wentworth; Captain\nWentworth of the navy.  His sister married my tenant in Somersetshire,\nthe Croft, who rents Kellynch.\"\n\nBefore Sir Walter had reached this point, Anne's eyes had caught the\nright direction, and distinguished Captain Wentworth standing among a\ncluster of men at a little distance.  As her eyes fell on him, his\nseemed to be withdrawn from her.  It had that appearance.  It seemed as\nif she had been one moment too late; and as long as she dared observe,\nhe did not look again:  but the performance was recommencing, and she\nwas forced to seem to restore her attention to the orchestra and look\nstraight forward.\n\nWhen she could give another glance, he had moved away.  He could not\nhave come nearer to her if he would; she was so surrounded and shut in:\nbut she would rather have caught his eye.\n\nMr Elliot's speech, too, distressed her.  She had no longer any\ninclination to talk to him.  She wished him not so near her.\n\nThe first act was over.  Now she hoped for some beneficial change; and,\nafter a period of nothing-saying amongst the party, some of them did\ndecide on going in quest of tea.  Anne was one of the few who did not\nchoose to move.  She remained in her seat, and so did Lady Russell; but\nshe had the pleasure of getting rid of Mr Elliot; and she did not mean,\nwhatever she might feel on Lady Russell's account, to shrink from\nconversation with Captain Wentworth, if he gave her the opportunity.\nShe was persuaded by Lady Russell's countenance that she had seen him.\n\nHe did not come however.  Anne sometimes fancied she discerned him at a\ndistance, but he never came.  The anxious interval wore away\nunproductively.  The others returned, the room filled again, benches\nwere reclaimed and repossessed, and another hour of pleasure or of\npenance was to be sat out, another hour of music was to give delight or\nthe gapes, as real or affected taste for it prevailed.  To Anne, it\nchiefly wore the prospect of an hour of agitation.  She could not quit\nthat room in peace without seeing Captain Wentworth once more, without\nthe interchange of one friendly look.\n\nIn re-settling themselves there were now many changes, the result of\nwhich was favourable for her.  Colonel Wallis declined sitting down\nagain, and Mr Elliot was invited by Elizabeth and Miss Carteret, in a\nmanner not to be refused, to sit between them; and by some other\nremovals, and a little scheming of her own,  Anne was enabled to place\nherself much nearer the end of the bench than she had been before, much\nmore within reach of a passer-by.  She could not do so, without\ncomparing herself with Miss Larolles, the inimitable Miss Larolles; but\nstill she did it, and not with much happier effect; though by what\nseemed prosperity in the shape of an early abdication in her next\nneighbours, she found herself at the very end of the bench before the\nconcert closed.\n\nSuch was her situation, with a vacant space at hand, when Captain\nWentworth was again in sight.  She saw him not far off.  He saw her\ntoo; yet he looked grave, and seemed irresolute, and only by very slow\ndegrees came at last near enough to speak to her.  She felt that\nsomething must be the matter.  The change was indubitable.  The\ndifference between his present air and what it had been in the Octagon\nRoom was strikingly great.  Why was it?  She thought of her father, of\nLady Russell.  Could there have been any unpleasant glances?  He began\nby speaking of the concert gravely, more like the Captain Wentworth of\nUppercross; owned himself disappointed, had expected singing; and in\nshort, must confess that he should not be sorry when it was over.  Anne\nreplied, and spoke in defence of the performance so well, and yet in\nallowance for his feelings so pleasantly, that his countenance\nimproved, and he replied again with almost a smile.  They talked for a\nfew minutes more; the improvement held; he even looked down towards the\nbench, as if he saw a place on it well worth occupying; when at that\nmoment a touch on her shoulder obliged Anne to turn round.  It came\nfrom Mr Elliot.  He begged her pardon, but she must be applied to, to\nexplain Italian again.  Miss Carteret was very anxious to have a\ngeneral idea of what was next to be sung.  Anne could not refuse; but\nnever had she sacrificed to politeness with a more suffering spirit.\n\nA few minutes, though as few as possible, were inevitably consumed; and\nwhen her own mistress again, when able to turn and look as she had done\nbefore, she found herself accosted by Captain Wentworth, in a reserved\nyet hurried sort of farewell.  \"He must wish her good night; he was\ngoing; he should get home as fast as he could.\"\n\n\"Is not this song worth staying for?\" said Anne, suddenly struck by an\nidea which made her yet more anxious to be encouraging.\n\n\"No!\" he replied impressively, \"there is nothing worth my staying for;\"\nand he was gone directly.\n\nJealousy of Mr Elliot!  It was the only intelligible motive.  Captain\nWentworth jealous of her affection!  Could she have believed it a week\nago; three hours ago!  For a moment the gratification was exquisite.\nBut, alas! there were very different thoughts to succeed.  How was such\njealousy to be quieted?  How was the truth to reach him?  How, in all\nthe peculiar disadvantages of their respective situations, would he\never learn of her real sentiments?  It was misery to think of Mr\nElliot's attentions.  Their evil was incalculable.\n\n\n\nChapter 21\n\n\nAnne recollected with pleasure the next morning her promise of going to\nMrs Smith, meaning that it should engage her from home at the time when\nMr Elliot would be most likely to call; for to avoid Mr Elliot was\nalmost a first object.\n\nShe felt a great deal of good-will towards him.  In spite of the\nmischief of his attentions, she owed him gratitude and regard, perhaps\ncompassion.  She could not help thinking much of the extraordinary\ncircumstances attending their acquaintance, of the right which he\nseemed to have to interest her, by everything in situation, by his own\nsentiments, by his early prepossession.  It was altogether very\nextraordinary; flattering, but painful.  There was much to regret.  How\nshe might have felt had there been no Captain Wentworth in the case,\nwas not worth enquiry; for there was a Captain Wentworth; and be the\nconclusion of the present suspense good or bad, her affection would be\nhis for ever.  Their union, she believed, could not divide her more\nfrom other men, than their final separation.\n\nPrettier musings of high-wrought love and eternal constancy, could\nnever have passed along the streets of Bath, than Anne was sporting\nwith from Camden Place to Westgate Buildings.  It was almost enough to\nspread purification and perfume all the way.\n\nShe was sure of a pleasant reception; and her friend seemed this\nmorning particularly obliged to her for coming, seemed hardly to have\nexpected her, though it had been an appointment.\n\nAn account of the concert was immediately claimed; and Anne's\nrecollections of the concert were quite happy enough to animate her\nfeatures and make her rejoice to talk of it.  All that she could tell\nshe told most gladly, but the all was little for one who had been\nthere, and unsatisfactory for such an enquirer as Mrs Smith, who had\nalready heard, through the short cut of a laundress and a waiter,\nrather more of the general success and produce of the evening than Anne\ncould relate, and who now asked in vain for several particulars of the\ncompany.  Everybody of any consequence or notoriety in Bath was well\nknow by name to Mrs Smith.\n\n\"The little Durands were there, I conclude,\" said she, \"with their\nmouths open to catch the music, like unfledged sparrows ready to be\nfed.  They never miss a concert.\"\n\n\"Yes; I did not see them myself, but I heard Mr Elliot say they were in\nthe room.\"\n\n\"The Ibbotsons, were they there? and the two new beauties, with the\ntall Irish officer, who is talked of for one of them.\"\n\n\"I do not know.  I do not think they were.\"\n\n\"Old Lady Mary Maclean?  I need not ask after her.  She never misses, I\nknow; and you must have seen her.  She must have been in your own\ncircle; for as you went with Lady Dalrymple, you were in the seats of\ngrandeur, round the orchestra, of course.\"\n\n\"No, that was what I dreaded.  It would have been very unpleasant to me\nin every respect.  But happily Lady Dalrymple always chooses to be\nfarther off; and we were exceedingly well placed, that is, for hearing;\nI must not say for seeing, because I appear to have seen very little.\"\n\n\"Oh! you saw enough for your own amusement.  I can understand.  There\nis a sort of domestic enjoyment to be known even in a crowd, and this\nyou had.  You were a large party in yourselves, and you wanted nothing\nbeyond.\"\n\n\"But I ought to have looked about me more,\" said Anne, conscious while\nshe spoke that there had in fact been no want of looking about, that\nthe object only had been deficient.\n\n\"No, no; you were better employed.  You need not tell me that you had a\npleasant evening.  I see it in your eye.  I perfectly see how the hours\npassed:  that you had always something agreeable to listen to.  In the\nintervals of the concert it was conversation.\"\n\nAnne half smiled and said, \"Do you see that in my eye?\"\n\n\"Yes, I do.  Your countenance perfectly informs me that you were in\ncompany last night with the person whom you think the most agreeable in\nthe world, the person who interests you at this present time more than\nall the rest of the world put together.\"\n\nA blush overspread Anne's cheeks.  She could say nothing.\n\n\"And such being the case,\" continued Mrs Smith, after a short pause, \"I\nhope you believe that I do know how to value your kindness in coming to\nme this morning.  It is really very good of you to come and sit with\nme, when you must have so many pleasanter demands upon your time.\"\n\nAnne heard nothing of this.  She was still in the astonishment and\nconfusion excited by her friend's penetration, unable to imagine how\nany report of Captain Wentworth could have reached her.  After another\nshort silence--\n\n\"Pray,\" said Mrs Smith, \"is Mr Elliot aware of your acquaintance with\nme?  Does he know that I am in Bath?\"\n\n\"Mr Elliot!\" repeated Anne, looking up surprised.  A moment's\nreflection shewed her the mistake she had been under.  She caught it\ninstantaneously; and recovering her courage with the feeling of safety,\nsoon added, more composedly, \"Are you acquainted with Mr Elliot?\"\n\n\"I have been a good deal acquainted with him,\" replied Mrs Smith,\ngravely, \"but it seems worn out now.  It is a great while since we met.\"\n\n\"I was not at all aware of this.  You never mentioned it before.  Had I\nknown it, I would have had the pleasure of talking to him about you.\"\n\n\"To confess the truth,\" said Mrs Smith, assuming her usual air of\ncheerfulness, \"that is exactly the pleasure I want you to have.  I want\nyou to talk about me to Mr Elliot.  I want your interest with him.  He\ncan be of essential service to me; and if you would have the goodness,\nmy dear Miss Elliot, to make it an object to yourself, of course it is\ndone.\"\n\n\"I should be extremely happy; I hope you cannot doubt my willingness to\nbe of even the slightest use to you,\" replied Anne; \"but I suspect that\nyou are considering me as having a higher claim on Mr Elliot, a greater\nright to influence him, than is really the case.  I am sure you have,\nsomehow or other, imbibed such a notion.  You must consider me only as\nMr Elliot's relation.  If in that light there is anything which you\nsuppose his cousin might fairly ask of him, I beg you would not\nhesitate to employ me.\"\n\nMrs Smith gave her a penetrating glance, and then, smiling, said--\n\n\"I have been a little premature, I perceive; I beg your pardon.  I\nought to have waited for official information.  But now, my dear Miss\nElliot, as an old friend, do give me a hint as to when I may speak.\nNext week?  To be sure by next week I may be allowed to think it all\nsettled, and build my own selfish schemes on Mr Elliot's good fortune.\"\n\n\"No,\" replied Anne, \"nor next week, nor next, nor next.  I assure you\nthat nothing of the sort you are thinking of will be settled any week.\nI am not going to marry Mr Elliot.  I should like to know why you\nimagine I am?\"\n\nMrs Smith looked at her again, looked earnestly, smiled, shook her\nhead, and exclaimed--\n\n\"Now, how I do wish I understood you!  How I do wish I knew what you\nwere at!  I have a great idea that you do not design to be cruel, when\nthe right moment occurs.  Till it does come, you know, we women never\nmean to have anybody.  It is a thing of course among us, that every man\nis refused, till he offers.  But why should you be cruel?  Let me plead\nfor my--present friend I cannot call him, but for my former friend.\nWhere can you look for a more suitable match?  Where could you expect a\nmore gentlemanlike, agreeable man?  Let me recommend Mr Elliot.  I am\nsure you hear nothing but good of him from Colonel Wallis; and who can\nknow him better than Colonel Wallis?\"\n\n\"My dear Mrs Smith, Mr Elliot's wife has not been dead much above half\na year.  He ought not to be supposed to be paying his addresses to any\none.\"\n\n\"Oh! if these are your only objections,\" cried Mrs Smith, archly, \"Mr\nElliot is safe, and I shall give myself no more trouble about him.  Do\nnot forget me when you are married, that's all.  Let him know me to be\na friend of yours, and then he will think little of the trouble\nrequired, which it is very natural for him now, with so many affairs\nand engagements of his own, to avoid and get rid of as he can; very\nnatural, perhaps.  Ninety-nine out of a hundred would do the same.  Of\ncourse, he cannot be aware of the importance to me.  Well, my dear Miss\nElliot, I hope and trust you will be very happy.  Mr Elliot has sense\nto understand the value of such a woman.  Your peace will not be\nshipwrecked as mine has been.  You are safe in all worldly matters, and\nsafe in his character.  He will not be led astray; he will not be\nmisled by others to his ruin.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Anne, \"I can readily believe all that of my cousin.  He\nseems to have a calm decided temper, not at all open to dangerous\nimpressions.  I consider him with great respect.  I have no reason,\nfrom any thing that has fallen within my observation, to do otherwise.\nBut I have not known him long; and he is not a man, I think, to be\nknown intimately soon.  Will not this manner of speaking of him, Mrs\nSmith, convince you that he is nothing to me?  Surely this must be calm\nenough.  And, upon my word, he is nothing to me.  Should he ever\npropose to me (which I have very little reason to imagine he has any\nthought of doing), I shall not accept him.  I assure you I shall not.\nI assure you, Mr Elliot had not the share which you have been\nsupposing, in whatever pleasure the concert of last night might afford:\nnot Mr Elliot; it is not Mr Elliot that--\"\n\nShe stopped, regretting with a deep blush that she had implied so much;\nbut less would hardly have been sufficient.  Mrs Smith would hardly\nhave believed so soon in Mr Elliot's failure, but from the perception\nof there being a somebody else.  As it was, she instantly submitted,\nand with all the semblance of seeing nothing beyond; and Anne, eager to\nescape farther notice, was impatient to know why Mrs Smith should have\nfancied she was to marry Mr Elliot; where she could have received the\nidea, or from whom she could have heard it.\n\n\"Do tell me how it first came into your head.\"\n\n\"It first came into my head,\" replied Mrs Smith, \"upon finding how much\nyou were together, and feeling it to be the most probable thing in the\nworld to be wished for by everybody belonging to either of you; and you\nmay depend upon it that all your acquaintance have disposed of you in\nthe same way.  But I never heard it spoken of till two days ago.\"\n\n\"And has it indeed been spoken of?\"\n\n\"Did you observe the woman who opened the door to you when you called\nyesterday?\"\n\n\"No.  Was not it Mrs Speed, as usual, or the maid?  I observed no one\nin particular.\"\n\n\"It was my friend Mrs Rooke; Nurse Rooke; who, by-the-bye, had a great\ncuriosity to see you, and was delighted to be in the way to let you in.\nShe came away from Marlborough Buildings only on Sunday; and she it was\nwho told me you were to marry Mr Elliot.  She had had it from Mrs\nWallis herself, which did not seem bad authority.  She sat an hour with\nme on Monday evening, and gave me the whole history.\" \"The whole\nhistory,\" repeated Anne, laughing.  \"She could not make a very long\nhistory, I think, of one such little article of unfounded news.\"\n\nMrs Smith said nothing.\n\n\"But,\" continued Anne, presently, \"though there is no truth in my\nhaving this claim on Mr Elliot, I should be extremely happy to be of\nuse to you in any way that I could.  Shall I mention to him your being\nin Bath?  Shall I take any message?\"\n\n\"No, I thank you:  no, certainly not.  In the warmth of the moment, and\nunder a mistaken impression, I might, perhaps, have endeavoured to\ninterest you in some circumstances; but not now.  No, I thank you, I\nhave nothing to trouble you with.\"\n\n\"I think you spoke of having known Mr Elliot many years?\"\n\n\"I did.\"\n\n\"Not before he was married, I suppose?\"\n\n\"Yes; he was not married when I knew him first.\"\n\n\"And--were you much acquainted?\"\n\n\"Intimately.\"\n\n\"Indeed!  Then do tell me what he was at that time of life.  I have a\ngreat curiosity to know what Mr Elliot was as a very young man.  Was he\nat all such as he appears now?\"\n\n\"I have not seen Mr Elliot these three years,\" was Mrs Smith's answer,\ngiven so gravely that it was impossible to pursue the subject farther;\nand Anne felt that she had gained nothing but an increase of curiosity.\nThey were both silent:  Mrs Smith very thoughtful.  At last--\n\n\"I beg your pardon, my dear Miss Elliot,\" she cried, in her natural\ntone of cordiality, \"I beg your pardon for the short answers I have\nbeen giving you, but I have been uncertain what I ought to do.  I have\nbeen doubting and considering as to what I ought to tell you.  There\nwere many things to be taken into the account.  One hates to be\nofficious, to be giving bad impressions, making mischief.  Even the\nsmooth surface of family-union seems worth preserving, though there may\nbe nothing durable beneath.  However, I have determined; I think I am\nright; I think you ought to be made acquainted with Mr Elliot's real\ncharacter.  Though I fully believe that, at present, you have not the\nsmallest intention of accepting him, there is no saying what may\nhappen.  You might, some time or other, be differently affected towards\nhim.  Hear the truth, therefore, now, while you are unprejudiced.  Mr\nElliot is a man without heart or conscience; a designing, wary,\ncold-blooded being, who thinks only of himself; whom for his own\ninterest or ease, would be guilty of any cruelty, or any treachery,\nthat could be perpetrated without risk of his general character.  He\nhas no feeling for others.  Those whom he has been the chief cause of\nleading into ruin, he can neglect and desert without the smallest\ncompunction.  He is totally beyond the reach of any sentiment of\njustice or compassion.  Oh! he is black at heart, hollow and black!\"\n\nAnne's astonished air, and exclamation of wonder, made her pause, and\nin a calmer manner, she added,\n\n\"My expressions startle you.  You must allow for an injured, angry\nwoman.  But I will try to command myself.  I will not abuse him.  I\nwill only tell you what I have found him.  Facts shall speak.  He was\nthe intimate friend of my dear husband, who trusted and loved him, and\nthought him as good as himself.  The intimacy had been formed before\nour marriage.  I found them most intimate friends; and I, too, became\nexcessively pleased with Mr Elliot, and entertained the highest opinion\nof him.  At nineteen, you know, one does not think very seriously; but\nMr Elliot appeared to me quite as good as others, and much more\nagreeable than most others, and we were almost always together.  We\nwere principally in town, living in very good style.  He was then the\ninferior in circumstances; he was then the poor one; he had chambers in\nthe Temple, and it was as much as he could do to support the appearance\nof a gentleman.  He had always a home with us whenever he chose it; he\nwas always welcome; he was like a brother.  My poor Charles, who had\nthe finest, most generous spirit in the world, would have divided his\nlast farthing with him; and I know that his purse was open to him; I\nknow that he often assisted him.\"\n\n\"This must have been about that very period of Mr Elliot's life,\" said\nAnne, \"which has always excited my particular curiosity.  It must have\nbeen about the same time that he became known to my father and sister.\nI never knew him myself; I only heard of him; but there was a something\nin his conduct then, with regard to my father and sister, and\nafterwards in the circumstances of his marriage, which I never could\nquite reconcile with present times.  It seemed to announce a different\nsort of man.\"\n\n\"I know it all, I know it all,\" cried Mrs Smith.  \"He had been\nintroduced to Sir Walter and your sister before I was acquainted with\nhim, but I heard him speak of them for ever.  I know he was invited and\nencouraged, and I know he did not choose to go.  I can satisfy you,\nperhaps, on points which you would little expect; and as to his\nmarriage, I knew all about it at the time.  I was privy to all the fors\nand againsts; I was the friend to whom he confided his hopes and plans;\nand though I did not know his wife previously, her inferior situation\nin society, indeed, rendered that impossible, yet I knew her all her\nlife afterwards, or at least till within the last two years of her\nlife, and can answer any question you may wish to put.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Anne, \"I have no particular enquiry to make about her.  I\nhave always understood they were not a happy couple.  But I should like\nto know why, at that time of his life, he should slight my father's\nacquaintance as he did.  My father was certainly disposed to take very\nkind and proper notice of him.  Why did Mr Elliot draw back?\"\n\n\"Mr Elliot,\" replied Mrs Smith, \"at that period of his life, had one\nobject in view:  to make his fortune, and by a rather quicker process\nthan the law.  He was determined to make it by marriage.  He was\ndetermined, at least, not to mar it by an imprudent marriage; and I\nknow it was his belief (whether justly or not, of course I cannot\ndecide), that your father and sister, in their civilities and\ninvitations, were designing a match between the heir and the young\nlady, and it was impossible that such a match should have answered his\nideas of wealth and independence.  That was his motive for drawing\nback, I can assure you.  He told me the whole story.  He had no\nconcealments with me.  It was curious, that having just left you behind\nme in Bath, my first and principal acquaintance on marrying should be\nyour cousin; and that, through him, I should be continually hearing of\nyour father and sister.  He described one Miss Elliot, and I thought\nvery affectionately of the other.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" cried Anne, struck by a sudden idea, \"you sometimes spoke of\nme to Mr Elliot?\"\n\n\"To be sure I did; very often.  I used to boast of my own Anne Elliot,\nand vouch for your being a very different creature from--\"\n\nShe checked herself just in time.\n\n\"This accounts for something which Mr Elliot said last night,\" cried\nAnne.  \"This explains it.  I found he had been used to hear of me.  I\ncould not comprehend how.  What wild imaginations one forms where dear\nself is concerned!  How sure to be mistaken!  But I beg your pardon; I\nhave interrupted you.  Mr Elliot married then completely for money?\nThe circumstances, probably, which first opened your eyes to his\ncharacter.\"\n\nMrs Smith hesitated a little here.  \"Oh! those things are too common.\nWhen one lives in the world, a man or woman's marrying for money is too\ncommon to strike one as it ought.  I was very young, and associated\nonly with the young, and we were a thoughtless, gay set, without any\nstrict rules of conduct.  We lived for enjoyment.  I think differently\nnow; time and sickness and sorrow have given me other notions; but at\nthat period I must own I saw nothing reprehensible in what Mr Elliot\nwas doing.  'To do the best for himself,' passed as a duty.\"\n\n\"But was not she a very low woman?\"\n\n\"Yes; which I objected to, but he would not regard.  Money, money, was\nall that he wanted.  Her father was a grazier, her grandfather had been\na butcher, but that was all nothing.  She was a fine woman, had had a\ndecent education, was brought forward by some cousins, thrown by chance\ninto Mr Elliot's company, and fell in love with him; and not a\ndifficulty or a scruple was there on his side, with respect to her\nbirth.  All his caution was spent in being secured of the real amount\nof her fortune, before he committed himself.  Depend upon it, whatever\nesteem Mr Elliot may have for his own situation in life now, as a young\nman he had not the smallest value for it.  His chance for the Kellynch\nestate was something, but all the honour of the family he held as cheap\nas dirt.  I have often heard him declare, that if baronetcies were\nsaleable, anybody should have his for fifty pounds, arms and motto,\nname and livery included; but I will not pretend to repeat half that I\nused to hear him say on that subject.  It would not be fair; and yet\nyou ought to have proof, for what is all this but assertion, and you\nshall have proof.\"\n\n\"Indeed, my dear Mrs Smith, I want none,\" cried Anne.  \"You have\nasserted nothing contradictory to what Mr Elliot appeared to be some\nyears ago.  This is all in confirmation, rather, of what we used to\nhear and believe.  I am more curious to know why he should be so\ndifferent now.\"\n\n\"But for my satisfaction, if you will have the goodness to ring for\nMary; stay:  I am sure you will have the still greater goodness of\ngoing yourself into my bedroom, and bringing me the small inlaid box\nwhich you will find on the upper shelf of the closet.\"\n\nAnne, seeing her friend to be earnestly bent on it, did as she was\ndesired.  The box was brought and placed before her, and Mrs Smith,\nsighing over it as she unlocked it, said--\n\n\"This is full of papers belonging to him, to my husband; a small\nportion only of what I had to look over when I lost him.  The letter I\nam looking for was one written by Mr Elliot to him before our marriage,\nand happened to be saved; why, one can hardly imagine.  But he was\ncareless and immethodical, like other men, about those things; and when\nI came to examine his papers, I found it with others still more\ntrivial, from different people scattered here and there, while many\nletters and memorandums of real importance had been destroyed.  Here it\nis; I would not burn it, because being even then very little satisfied\nwith Mr Elliot, I was determined to preserve every document of former\nintimacy.  I have now another motive for being glad that I can produce\nit.\"\n\nThis was the letter, directed to \"Charles Smith, Esq. Tunbridge Wells,\"\nand dated from London, as far back as July, 1803:--\n\n\"Dear Smith,--I have received yours.  Your kindness almost overpowers\nme.  I wish nature had made such hearts as yours more common, but I\nhave lived three-and-twenty years in the world, and have seen none like\nit.  At present, believe me, I have no need of your services, being in\ncash again.  Give me joy:  I have got rid of Sir Walter and Miss.  They\nare gone back to Kellynch, and almost made me swear to visit them this\nsummer; but my first visit to Kellynch will be with a surveyor, to tell\nme how to bring it with best advantage to the hammer.  The baronet,\nnevertheless, is not unlikely to marry again; he is quite fool enough.\nIf he does, however, they will leave me in peace, which may be a decent\nequivalent  for the reversion.  He is worse than last year.\n\n\"I wish I had any name but Elliot.  I am sick of it.  The name of\nWalter I can drop, thank God! and I desire you will never insult me\nwith my second W. again, meaning, for the rest of my life, to be only\nyours truly,--Wm. Elliot.\"\n\nSuch a letter could not be read without putting Anne in a glow; and Mrs\nSmith, observing the high colour in her face, said--\n\n\"The language, I know, is highly disrespectful.  Though I have forgot\nthe exact terms, I have a perfect impression of the general meaning.\nBut it shows you the man.  Mark his professions to my poor husband.\nCan any thing be stronger?\"\n\nAnne could not immediately get over the shock and mortification of\nfinding such words applied to her father.  She was obliged to recollect\nthat her seeing the letter was a violation of the laws of honour, that\nno one ought to be judged or to be known by such testimonies, that no\nprivate correspondence could bear the eye of others, before she could\nrecover calmness enough to return the letter which she had been\nmeditating over, and say--\n\n\"Thank you.  This is full proof undoubtedly; proof of every thing you\nwere saying.  But why be acquainted with us now?\"\n\n\"I can explain this too,\" cried Mrs Smith, smiling.\n\n\"Can you really?\"\n\n\"Yes.  I have shewn you Mr Elliot as he was a dozen years ago, and I\nwill shew him as he is now.  I cannot produce written proof again, but\nI can give as authentic oral testimony as you can desire, of what he is\nnow wanting, and what he is now doing.  He is no hypocrite now.  He\ntruly wants to marry you.  His present attentions to your family are\nvery sincere:  quite from the heart.  I will give you my authority: his\nfriend Colonel Wallis.\"\n\n\"Colonel Wallis! you are acquainted with him?\"\n\n\"No.  It does not come to me in quite so direct a line as that; it\ntakes a bend or two, but nothing of consequence.  The stream is as good\nas at first; the little rubbish it collects in the turnings is easily\nmoved away.  Mr Elliot talks unreservedly to Colonel Wallis of his\nviews on you, which said Colonel Wallis, I imagine to be, in himself, a\nsensible, careful, discerning sort of character; but Colonel Wallis has\na very pretty silly wife, to whom he tells things which he had better\nnot, and he repeats it all to her.  She in the overflowing spirits of\nher recovery, repeats it all to her nurse; and the nurse  knowing my\nacquaintance with you, very naturally brings it all to me.  On Monday\nevening, my good friend Mrs Rooke let me thus much into the secrets of\nMarlborough Buildings.  When I talked of a whole history, therefore,\nyou see I was not romancing so much as you supposed.\"\n\n\"My dear Mrs Smith, your authority is deficient.  This will not do.  Mr\nElliot's having any views on me will not in the least account for the\nefforts he made towards a reconciliation with my father.  That was all\nprior to my coming to Bath.  I found them on the most friendly terms\nwhen I arrived.\"\n\n\"I know you did; I know it all perfectly, but--\"\n\n\"Indeed, Mrs Smith, we must not expect to get real information in such\na line.  Facts or opinions which are to pass through the hands of so\nmany, to be misconceived by folly in one, and ignorance in another, can\nhardly have much truth left.\"\n\n\"Only give me a hearing.  You will soon be able to judge of the general\ncredit due, by listening to some particulars which you can yourself\nimmediately contradict or confirm.  Nobody supposes that you were his\nfirst inducement.  He had seen you indeed, before he came to Bath, and\nadmired you, but without knowing it to be you.  So says my historian,\nat least.  Is this true?  Did he see you last summer or autumn,\n'somewhere down in the west,' to use her own words, without knowing it\nto be you?\"\n\n\"He certainly did.  So far it is very true.  At Lyme.  I happened to be\nat Lyme.\"\n\n\"Well,\" continued Mrs Smith, triumphantly, \"grant my friend the credit\ndue to the establishment of the first point asserted.  He saw you then\nat Lyme, and liked you so well as to be exceedingly pleased to meet\nwith you again in Camden Place, as Miss Anne Elliot, and from that\nmoment, I have no doubt, had a double motive in his visits there.  But\nthere was another, and an earlier, which I will now explain.  If there\nis anything in my story which you know to be either false or\nimprobable, stop me.  My account states, that your sister's friend, the\nlady now staying with you, whom I have heard you mention, came to Bath\nwith Miss Elliot and Sir Walter as long ago as September (in short when\nthey first came themselves), and has been staying there ever since;\nthat she is a clever, insinuating, handsome woman, poor and plausible,\nand altogether such in situation and manner, as to give a general idea,\namong Sir Walter's acquaintance, of her meaning to be Lady Elliot, and\nas general a surprise that Miss Elliot should be apparently, blind to\nthe danger.\"\n\nHere Mrs Smith paused a moment; but Anne had not a word to say, and she\ncontinued--\n\n\"This was the light in which it appeared to those who knew the family,\nlong before you returned to it; and Colonel Wallis had his eye upon\nyour father enough to be sensible of it, though he did not then visit\nin Camden Place; but his regard for Mr Elliot gave him an interest in\nwatching all that was going on there, and when Mr Elliot came to Bath\nfor a day or two, as he happened to do a little before Christmas,\nColonel Wallis made him acquainted with the appearance of things, and\nthe reports beginning to prevail.  Now you are to understand, that time\nhad worked a very material change in Mr Elliot's opinions as to the\nvalue of a baronetcy.  Upon all points of blood and connexion he is a\ncompletely altered man.  Having long had as much money as he could\nspend, nothing to wish for on the side of avarice or indulgence, he has\nbeen gradually learning to pin his happiness upon the consequence he is\nheir to.  I thought it coming on before our acquaintance ceased, but it\nis now a confirmed feeling.  He cannot bear the idea of not being Sir\nWilliam.  You may guess, therefore, that the news he heard from his\nfriend could not be very agreeable, and you may guess what it produced;\nthe resolution of coming back to Bath as soon as possible, and of\nfixing himself here for a time, with the view of renewing his former\nacquaintance, and recovering such a footing in the family as might give\nhim the means of ascertaining the degree of his danger, and of\ncircumventing the lady if he found it material.  This was agreed upon\nbetween the two friends as the only thing to be done; and Colonel\nWallis was to assist in every way that he could.  He was to be\nintroduced, and Mrs Wallis was to be introduced, and everybody was to\nbe introduced.  Mr Elliot came back accordingly; and on application was\nforgiven, as you know, and re-admitted into the family; and there it\nwas his constant object, and his only object (till your arrival added\nanother motive), to watch Sir Walter and Mrs Clay.  He omitted no\nopportunity of being with them, threw himself in their way, called at\nall hours; but I need not be particular on this subject.  You can\nimagine what an artful man would do; and with this guide, perhaps, may\nrecollect what you have seen him do.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Anne, \"you tell me nothing which does not accord with what\nI have known, or could imagine.  There is always something offensive in\nthe details of cunning.  The manoeuvres of selfishness and duplicity\nmust ever be revolting, but I have heard nothing which really surprises\nme.  I know those who would be shocked by such a representation of Mr\nElliot, who would have difficulty in believing it; but I have never\nbeen satisfied.  I have always wanted some other motive for his conduct\nthan appeared.  I should like to know his present opinion, as to the\nprobability of the event he has been in dread of; whether he considers\nthe danger to be lessening or not.\"\n\n\"Lessening, I understand,\" replied Mrs Smith.  \"He thinks Mrs Clay\nafraid of him, aware that he sees through her, and not daring to\nproceed as she might do in his absence.  But since he must be absent\nsome time or other, I do not perceive how he can ever be secure while\nshe holds her present influence.  Mrs Wallis has an amusing idea, as\nnurse tells me, that it is to be put into the marriage articles when\nyou and Mr Elliot marry, that your father is not to marry Mrs Clay.  A\nscheme, worthy of Mrs Wallis's understanding, by all accounts; but my\nsensible nurse Rooke sees the absurdity of it.  'Why, to be sure,\nma'am,' said she, 'it would not prevent his marrying anybody else.'\nAnd, indeed, to own the truth, I do not think nurse, in her heart, is a\nvery strenuous opposer of Sir Walter's making a second match.  She must\nbe allowed to be a favourer of matrimony, you know; and (since self\nwill intrude) who can say that she may not have some flying visions of\nattending the next Lady Elliot, through Mrs Wallis's recommendation?\"\n\n\"I am very glad to know all this,\" said Anne, after a little\nthoughtfulness.  \"It will be more painful to me in some respects to be\nin company with him, but I shall know better what to do.  My line of\nconduct will be more direct.  Mr Elliot is evidently a disingenuous,\nartificial, worldly man, who has never had any better principle to\nguide him than selfishness.\"\n\nBut Mr Elliot was not done with.  Mrs Smith had been carried away from\nher first direction, and Anne had forgotten, in the interest of her own\nfamily concerns, how much had been originally implied against him; but\nher attention was now called to the explanation of those first hints,\nand she listened to a recital which, if it did not perfectly justify\nthe unqualified bitterness of Mrs Smith, proved him to have been very\nunfeeling in his conduct towards her; very deficient both in justice\nand compassion.\n\nShe learned that (the intimacy between them continuing unimpaired by Mr\nElliot's marriage) they had been as before always together, and Mr\nElliot had led his friend into expenses much beyond his fortune.  Mrs\nSmith did not want to take blame to herself, and was most tender of\nthrowing any on her husband; but Anne could collect that their income\nhad never been equal to their style of living, and that from the first\nthere had been a great deal of general and joint extravagance.  From\nhis wife's account of him she could discern Mr Smith to have been a man\nof warm feelings, easy temper, careless habits, and not strong\nunderstanding, much more amiable than his friend, and very unlike him,\nled by him, and probably despised by him.  Mr Elliot, raised by his\nmarriage to great affluence, and disposed to every gratification of\npleasure and vanity which could be commanded without involving himself,\n(for with all his self-indulgence he had become a prudent man), and\nbeginning to be rich, just as his friend ought to have found himself to\nbe poor, seemed to have had no concern at all for that friend's\nprobable finances, but, on the contrary, had been prompting and\nencouraging expenses which could end only in ruin; and the Smiths\naccordingly had been ruined.\n\nThe husband had died just in time to be spared the full knowledge of\nit.  They had previously known embarrassments enough to try the\nfriendship of their friends, and to prove that Mr Elliot's had better\nnot be tried; but it was not till his death that the wretched state of\nhis affairs was fully known.  With a confidence in Mr Elliot's regard,\nmore creditable to his feelings than his judgement, Mr Smith had\nappointed him the executor of his will; but Mr Elliot would not act,\nand the difficulties and distress which this refusal had heaped on her,\nin addition to the inevitable sufferings of her situation, had been\nsuch as could not be related without anguish of spirit, or listened to\nwithout corresponding indignation.\n\nAnne was shewn some letters of his on the occasion, answers to urgent\napplications from Mrs Smith, which all breathed the same stern\nresolution of not engaging in a fruitless trouble, and, under a cold\ncivility, the same hard-hearted indifference to any of the evils it\nmight bring on her.  It was a dreadful picture of ingratitude and\ninhumanity; and Anne felt, at some moments, that no flagrant open crime\ncould have been worse.  She had a great deal to listen to; all the\nparticulars of past sad scenes, all the minutiae of distress upon\ndistress, which in former conversations had been merely hinted at, were\ndwelt on now with a natural indulgence.  Anne could perfectly\ncomprehend the exquisite relief, and was only the more inclined to\nwonder at the composure of her friend's usual state of mind.\n\nThere was one circumstance in the history of her grievances of\nparticular irritation.  She had good reason to believe that some\nproperty of her husband in the West Indies, which had been for many\nyears under a sort of sequestration for the payment of its own\nincumbrances, might be recoverable by proper measures; and this\nproperty, though not large, would be enough to make her comparatively\nrich.  But there was nobody to stir in it.  Mr Elliot would do nothing,\nand she could do nothing herself, equally disabled from personal\nexertion by her state of bodily weakness, and from employing others by\nher want of money.  She had no natural connexions to assist her even\nwith their counsel, and she could not afford to purchase the assistance\nof the law.  This was a cruel aggravation of actually straitened means.\nTo feel that she ought to be in better circumstances, that a little\ntrouble in the right place might do it, and to fear that delay might be\neven weakening her claims, was hard to bear.\n\nIt was on this point that she had hoped to engage Anne's good offices\nwith Mr Elliot.  She had previously, in the anticipation of their\nmarriage, been very apprehensive of losing her friend by it; but on\nbeing assured that he could have made no attempt of that nature, since\nhe did not even know her to be in Bath, it immediately occurred, that\nsomething might be done in her favour by the influence of the woman he\nloved, and she had been hastily preparing to interest Anne's feelings,\nas far as the observances due to Mr Elliot's character would allow,\nwhen Anne's refutation of the supposed engagement changed the face of\neverything; and while it took from her the new-formed hope of\nsucceeding in the object of her first anxiety, left her at least the\ncomfort of telling the whole story her own way.\n\nAfter listening to this full description of Mr Elliot, Anne could not\nbut express some surprise at Mrs Smith's having spoken of him so\nfavourably in the beginning of their conversation.  \"She had seemed to\nrecommend and praise him!\"\n\n\"My dear,\" was Mrs Smith's reply, \"there was nothing else to be done.\nI considered your marrying him as certain, though he might not yet have\nmade the offer, and I could no more speak the truth of him, than if he\nhad been your husband.  My heart bled for you, as I talked of\nhappiness; and yet he is sensible, he is agreeable, and with such a\nwoman as you, it was not absolutely hopeless.  He was very unkind to\nhis first wife.  They were wretched together.  But she was too ignorant\nand giddy for respect, and he had never loved her.  I was willing to\nhope that you must fare better.\"\n\nAnne could just acknowledge within herself such a possibility of having\nbeen induced to marry him, as made her shudder at the idea of the\nmisery which must have followed.  It was just possible that she might\nhave been persuaded by Lady Russell!  And under such a supposition,\nwhich would have been most miserable, when time had disclosed all, too\nlate?\n\nIt was very desirable that Lady Russell should be no longer deceived;\nand one of the concluding arrangements of this important conference,\nwhich carried them through the greater part of the morning, was, that\nAnne had full liberty to communicate to her friend everything relative\nto Mrs Smith, in which his conduct was involved.\n\n\n\nChapter 22\n\n\nAnne went home to think over all that she had heard.  In one point, her\nfeelings were relieved by this knowledge of Mr Elliot.  There was no\nlonger anything of tenderness due to him.  He stood as opposed to\nCaptain Wentworth, in all his own unwelcome obtrusiveness; and the evil\nof his attentions last night, the irremediable mischief he might have\ndone, was considered with sensations unqualified, unperplexed.  Pity\nfor him was all over.  But this was the only point of relief.  In every\nother respect, in looking around her, or penetrating forward, she saw\nmore to distrust and to apprehend.  She was concerned for the\ndisappointment and pain Lady Russell would be feeling; for the\nmortifications which must be hanging over her father and sister, and\nhad all the distress of foreseeing many evils, without knowing how to\navert any one of them.  She was most thankful for her own knowledge of\nhim.  She had never considered herself as entitled to reward for not\nslighting an old friend like Mrs Smith, but here was a reward indeed\nspringing from it!  Mrs Smith had been able to tell her what no one\nelse could have done.  Could the knowledge have been extended through\nher family?  But this was a vain idea.  She must talk to Lady Russell,\ntell her, consult with her, and having done her best, wait the event\nwith as much composure as possible; and after all, her greatest want of\ncomposure would be in that quarter of the mind which could not be\nopened to Lady Russell; in that flow of anxieties and fears which must\nbe all to herself.\n\n\nShe found, on reaching home, that she had, as she intended, escaped\nseeing Mr Elliot; that he had called and paid them a long morning\nvisit; but hardly had she congratulated herself, and felt safe, when\nshe heard that he was coming again in the evening.\n\n\"I had not the smallest intention of asking him,\" said Elizabeth, with\naffected carelessness, \"but he gave so many hints; so Mrs Clay says, at\nleast.\"\n\n\"Indeed, I do say it.  I never saw anybody in my life spell harder for\nan invitation.  Poor man!  I was really in pain for him; for your\nhard-hearted sister, Miss Anne, seems bent on cruelty.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" cried Elizabeth, \"I have been rather too much used to the game to\nbe soon overcome by a gentleman's hints.  However, when I found how\nexcessively he was regretting that he should miss my father this\nmorning, I gave way immediately, for I would never really omit an\nopportunity of bringing him and Sir Walter together.  They appear to so\nmuch advantage in company with each other.  Each behaving so\npleasantly.  Mr Elliot looking up with so much respect.\"\n\n\"Quite delightful!\" cried Mrs Clay, not daring, however, to turn her\neyes towards Anne.  \"Exactly like father and son!  Dear Miss Elliot,\nmay I not say father and son?\"\n\n\"Oh! I lay no embargo on any body's words.  If you will have such\nideas!  But, upon my word, I am scarcely sensible of his attentions\nbeing beyond those of other men.\"\n\n\"My dear Miss Elliot!\" exclaimed Mrs Clay, lifting her hands and eyes,\nand sinking all the rest of her astonishment in a convenient silence.\n\n\"Well, my dear Penelope, you need not be so alarmed about him.  I did\ninvite him, you know.  I sent him away with smiles.  When I found he\nwas really going to his friends at Thornberry Park for the whole day\nto-morrow, I had compassion on him.\"\n\nAnne admired the good acting of the friend, in being able to shew such\npleasure as she did, in the expectation and in the actual arrival of\nthe very person whose presence must really be interfering with her\nprime object.  It was impossible but that Mrs Clay must hate the sight\nof Mr Elliot; and yet she could assume a most obliging, placid look,\nand appear quite satisfied with the curtailed license of devoting\nherself only half as much to Sir Walter as she would have done\notherwise.\n\nTo Anne herself it was most distressing to see Mr Elliot enter the\nroom; and quite painful to have him approach and speak to her.  She had\nbeen used before to feel that he could not be always quite sincere, but\nnow she saw insincerity in everything.  His attentive deference to her\nfather, contrasted with his former language, was odious; and when she\nthought of his cruel conduct towards Mrs Smith, she could hardly bear\nthe sight of his present smiles and mildness, or the sound of his\nartificial good sentiments.\n\nShe meant to avoid any such alteration of manners as might provoke a\nremonstrance on his side.  It was a great object to her to escape all\nenquiry or eclat; but it was her intention to be as decidedly cool to\nhim as might be compatible with their relationship; and to retrace, as\nquietly as she could, the few steps of unnecessary intimacy she had\nbeen gradually led along.  She was accordingly more guarded, and more\ncool, than she had been the night before.\n\nHe wanted to animate her curiosity again as to how and where he could\nhave heard her formerly praised; wanted very much to be gratified by\nmore solicitation; but the charm was broken: he found that the heat and\nanimation of a public room was necessary to kindle his modest cousin's\nvanity; he found, at least, that it was not to be done now, by any of\nthose attempts which he could hazard among the too-commanding claims of\nthe others.  He little surmised that it was a subject acting now\nexactly against his interest, bringing immediately to her thoughts all\nthose parts of his conduct which were least excusable.\n\nShe had some satisfaction in finding that he was really going out of\nBath the next morning, going early, and that he would be gone the\ngreater part of two days.  He was invited again to Camden Place the\nvery evening of his return; but from Thursday to Saturday evening his\nabsence was certain.  It was bad enough that a Mrs Clay should be\nalways before her; but that a deeper hypocrite should be added to their\nparty, seemed the destruction of everything like peace and comfort.  It\nwas so humiliating to reflect on the constant deception practised on\nher father and Elizabeth; to consider the various sources of\nmortification preparing for them!  Mrs Clay's selfishness was not so\ncomplicate nor so revolting as his; and Anne would have compounded for\nthe marriage at once, with all its evils, to be clear of Mr Elliot's\nsubtleties in endeavouring to prevent it.\n\nOn Friday morning she meant to go very early to Lady Russell, and\naccomplish the necessary communication; and she would have gone\ndirectly after breakfast, but that Mrs Clay was also going out on some\nobliging purpose of saving her sister trouble, which determined her to\nwait till she might be safe from such a companion.  She saw Mrs Clay\nfairly off, therefore, before she began to talk of spending the morning\nin Rivers Street.\n\n\"Very well,\" said Elizabeth, \"I have nothing to send but my love.  Oh!\nyou may as well take back that tiresome book she would lend me, and\npretend I have read it through.  I really cannot be plaguing myself for\never with all the new poems and states of the nation that come out.\nLady Russell quite bores one with her new publications.  You need not\ntell her so, but I thought her dress hideous the other night.  I used\nto think she had some taste in dress, but I was ashamed of her at the\nconcert.  Something so formal and _arrangé_ in her air!  and she sits so\nupright!  My best love, of course.\"\n\n\"And mine,\" added Sir Walter.  \"Kindest regards.  And you may say, that\nI mean to call upon her soon.  Make a civil message; but I shall only\nleave my card.  Morning visits are never fair by women at her time of\nlife, who make themselves up so little.  If she would only wear rouge\nshe would not be afraid of being seen; but last time I called, I\nobserved the blinds were let down immediately.\"\n\nWhile her father spoke, there was a knock at the door.  Who could it\nbe?  Anne, remembering the preconcerted visits, at all hours, of Mr\nElliot, would have expected him, but for his known engagement seven\nmiles off.  After the usual period of suspense, the usual sounds of\napproach were heard, and \"Mr and Mrs Charles Musgrove\" were ushered\ninto the room.\n\nSurprise was the strongest emotion raised by their appearance; but Anne\nwas really glad to see them; and the others were not so sorry but that\nthey could put on a decent air of welcome; and as soon as it became\nclear that these, their nearest relations, were not arrived with any\nviews of accommodation in that house, Sir Walter and Elizabeth were\nable to rise in cordiality, and do the honours of it very well.  They\nwere come to Bath for a few days with Mrs Musgrove, and were at the\nWhite Hart.  So much was pretty soon understood; but till Sir Walter\nand Elizabeth were walking Mary into the other drawing-room, and\nregaling themselves with her admiration, Anne could not draw upon\nCharles's brain for a regular history of their coming, or an\nexplanation of some smiling hints of particular business, which had\nbeen ostentatiously dropped by Mary, as well as of some apparent\nconfusion as to whom their party consisted of.\n\nShe then found that it consisted of Mrs Musgrove, Henrietta, and\nCaptain Harville, beside their two selves.  He gave her a very plain,\nintelligible account of the whole; a narration in which she saw a great\ndeal of most characteristic proceeding.  The scheme had received its\nfirst impulse by Captain Harville's wanting to come to Bath on\nbusiness.  He had begun to talk of it a week ago; and by way of doing\nsomething, as shooting was over, Charles had proposed coming with him,\nand Mrs Harville had seemed to like the idea of it very much, as an\nadvantage to her husband; but Mary could not bear to be left, and had\nmade herself so unhappy about it, that for a day or two everything\nseemed to be in suspense, or at an end.  But then, it had been taken up\nby his father and mother.  His mother had some old friends in Bath whom\nshe wanted to see; it was thought a good opportunity for Henrietta to\ncome and buy wedding-clothes for herself and her sister; and, in short,\nit ended in being his mother's party, that everything might be\ncomfortable and easy to Captain Harville; and he and Mary were included\nin it by way of general convenience.  They had arrived late the night\nbefore.  Mrs Harville, her children, and Captain Benwick, remained with\nMr Musgrove and Louisa at Uppercross.\n\nAnne's only surprise was, that affairs should be in forwardness enough\nfor Henrietta's wedding-clothes to be talked of.  She had imagined such\ndifficulties of fortune to exist there as must prevent the marriage\nfrom being near at hand; but she learned from Charles that, very\nrecently, (since Mary's last letter to herself), Charles Hayter had\nbeen applied to by a friend to hold a living for a youth who could not\npossibly claim it under many years; and that on the strength of his\npresent income, with almost a certainty of something more permanent\nlong before the term in question, the two families had consented to the\nyoung people's wishes, and that their marriage was likely to take place\nin a few months, quite as soon as Louisa's.  \"And a very good living it\nwas,\" Charles added:  \"only five-and-twenty miles from Uppercross, and\nin a very fine country: fine part of Dorsetshire.  In the centre of\nsome of the best preserves in the kingdom, surrounded by three great\nproprietors, each more careful and jealous than the other; and to two\nof the three at least, Charles Hayter might get a special\nrecommendation.  Not that he will value it as he ought,\" he observed,\n\"Charles is too cool about sporting. That's the worst of him.\"\n\n\"I am extremely glad, indeed,\" cried Anne, \"particularly glad that this\nshould happen; and that of two sisters, who both deserve equally well,\nand who have always been such good friends, the pleasant prospect of\none should not be dimming those of the other--that they should be so\nequal in their prosperity and comfort.  I hope your father and mother\nare quite happy with regard to both.\"\n\n\"Oh! yes.  My father would be well pleased if the gentlemen were\nricher, but he has no other fault to find.  Money, you know, coming\ndown with money--two daughters at once--it cannot be a very agreeable\noperation, and it streightens him as to many things.  However, I do not\nmean to say they have not a right to it.  It is very fit they should\nhave daughters' shares; and I am sure he has always been a very kind,\nliberal father to me.  Mary does not above half like Henrietta's match.\nShe never did, you know.  But she does not do him justice, nor think\nenough about Winthrop.  I cannot make her attend to the value of the\nproperty.  It is a very fair match, as times go; and I have liked\nCharles Hayter all my life, and I shall not leave off now.\"\n\n\"Such excellent parents as Mr and Mrs Musgrove,\" exclaimed Anne,\n\"should be happy in their children's marriages.  They do everything to\nconfer happiness, I am sure.  What a blessing to young people to be in\nsuch hands!  Your father and mother seem so totally free from all those\nambitious feelings which have led to so much misconduct and misery,\nboth in young and old.  I hope you think Louisa perfectly recovered\nnow?\"\n\nHe answered rather hesitatingly, \"Yes, I believe I do; very much\nrecovered; but she is altered; there is no running or jumping about, no\nlaughing or dancing; it is quite different.  If one happens only to\nshut the door a little hard, she starts and wriggles like a young\ndab-chick in the water; and Benwick sits at her elbow, reading verses,\nor whispering to her, all day long.\"\n\nAnne could not help laughing.  \"That cannot be much to your taste, I\nknow,\" said she; \"but I do believe him to be an excellent young man.\"\n\n\"To be sure he is.  Nobody doubts it; and I hope you do not think I am\nso illiberal as to want every man to have the same objects and\npleasures as myself.  I have a great value for Benwick; and when one\ncan but get him to talk, he has plenty to say.  His reading has done\nhim no harm, for he has fought as well as read.  He is a brave fellow.\nI got more acquainted with him last Monday than ever I did before.  We\nhad a famous set-to at rat-hunting all the morning in my father's great\nbarns; and he played his part so well that I have liked him the better\never since.\"\n\nHere they were interrupted by the absolute necessity of Charles's\nfollowing the others to admire mirrors and china; but Anne had heard\nenough to understand the present state of Uppercross, and rejoice in\nits happiness; and though she sighed as she rejoiced, her sigh had none\nof the ill-will of envy in it.  She would certainly have risen to their\nblessings if she could, but she did not want to lessen theirs.\n\nThe visit passed off altogether in high good humour.  Mary was in\nexcellent spirits, enjoying the gaiety and the change, and so well\nsatisfied with the journey in her mother-in-law's carriage with four\nhorses, and with her own complete independence of Camden Place, that\nshe was exactly in a temper to admire everything as she ought, and\nenter most readily into all the superiorities of the house, as they\nwere detailed to her.  She had no demands on her father or sister, and\nher consequence was just enough increased by their handsome\ndrawing-rooms.\n\nElizabeth was, for a short time, suffering a good deal.  She felt that\nMrs Musgrove and all her party ought to be asked to dine with them; but\nshe could not bear to have the difference of style, the reduction of\nservants, which a dinner must betray, witnessed by those who had been\nalways so inferior to the Elliots of Kellynch.  It was a struggle\nbetween propriety and vanity; but vanity got the better, and then\nElizabeth was happy again.  These were her internal persuasions: \"Old\nfashioned notions; country hospitality; we do not profess to give\ndinners; few people in Bath do; Lady Alicia never does; did not even\nask her own sister's family, though they were here a month: and I dare\nsay it would be very inconvenient to Mrs Musgrove; put her quite out of\nher way.  I am sure she would rather not come; she cannot feel easy\nwith us.  I will ask them all for an evening; that will be much better;\nthat will be a novelty and a treat.  They have not seen two such\ndrawing rooms before.  They will be delighted to come to-morrow\nevening.  It shall be a regular party, small, but most elegant.\"  And\nthis satisfied Elizabeth:  and when the invitation was given to the two\npresent, and promised for the absent, Mary was as completely satisfied.\nShe was particularly asked to meet Mr Elliot, and be introduced to Lady\nDalrymple and Miss Carteret, who were fortunately already engaged to\ncome; and she could not have received a more gratifying attention.\nMiss Elliot was to have the honour of calling on Mrs Musgrove in the\ncourse of the morning; and Anne walked off with Charles and Mary, to go\nand see her and Henrietta directly.\n\nHer plan of sitting with Lady Russell must give way for the present.\nThey all three called in Rivers Street for a couple of minutes; but\nAnne convinced herself that a day's delay of the intended communication\ncould be of no consequence, and hastened forward to the White Hart, to\nsee again the friends and companions of the last autumn, with an\neagerness of good-will which many associations contributed to form.\n\nThey found Mrs Musgrove and her daughter within, and by themselves, and\nAnne had the kindest welcome from each.  Henrietta was exactly in that\nstate of recently-improved views, of fresh-formed happiness, which made\nher full of regard and interest for everybody she had ever liked before\nat all; and Mrs Musgrove's real affection had been won by her\nusefulness when they were in distress.  It was a heartiness, and a\nwarmth, and a sincerity which Anne delighted in the more, from the sad\nwant of such blessings at home.  She was entreated to give them as much\nof her time as possible, invited for every day and all day long, or\nrather claimed as part of the family; and, in return, she naturally\nfell into all her wonted ways of attention and assistance, and on\nCharles's leaving them together, was listening to Mrs Musgrove's\nhistory of Louisa, and to Henrietta's of herself, giving opinions on\nbusiness, and recommendations to shops; with intervals of every help\nwhich Mary required, from altering her ribbon to settling her accounts;\nfrom finding her keys, and assorting her trinkets, to trying to\nconvince her that she was not ill-used by anybody; which Mary, well\namused as she generally was, in her station at a window overlooking the\nentrance to the Pump Room, could not but have her moments of imagining.\n\nA morning of thorough confusion was to be expected.  A large party in\nan hotel ensured a quick-changing, unsettled scene.  One five minutes\nbrought a note, the next a parcel; and Anne had not been there half an\nhour, when their dining-room, spacious as it was, seemed more than half\nfilled:  a party of steady old friends were seated around Mrs Musgrove,\nand Charles came back with Captains Harville and Wentworth.  The\nappearance of the latter could not be more than the surprise of the\nmoment.  It was impossible for her to have forgotten to feel that this\narrival of their common friends must be soon bringing them together\nagain.  Their last meeting had been most important in opening his\nfeelings; she had derived from it a delightful conviction; but she\nfeared from his looks, that the same unfortunate persuasion, which had\nhastened him away from the Concert Room, still governed.  He did not\nseem to want to be near enough for conversation.\n\nShe tried to be calm, and leave things to take their course, and tried\nto dwell much on this argument of rational dependence:--\"Surely, if\nthere be constant attachment on each side, our hearts must understand\neach other ere long.  We are not boy and girl, to be captiously\nirritable, misled by every moment's inadvertence, and wantonly playing\nwith our own happiness.\"  And yet, a few minutes afterwards, she felt\nas if their being in company with each other, under their present\ncircumstances, could only be exposing them to inadvertencies and\nmisconstructions of the most mischievous kind.\n\n\"Anne,\" cried Mary, still at her window, \"there is Mrs Clay, I am sure,\nstanding under the colonnade, and a gentleman with her.  I saw them\nturn the corner from Bath Street just now.  They seemed deep in talk.\nWho is it?  Come, and tell me.  Good heavens! I recollect.  It is Mr\nElliot himself.\"\n\n\"No,\" cried Anne, quickly, \"it cannot be Mr Elliot, I assure you.  He\nwas to leave Bath at nine this morning, and does not come back till\nto-morrow.\"\n\nAs she spoke, she felt that Captain Wentworth was looking at her, the\nconsciousness of which vexed and embarrassed her, and made her regret\nthat she had said so much, simple as it was.\n\nMary, resenting that she should be supposed not to know her own cousin,\nbegan talking very warmly about the family features, and protesting\nstill more positively that it was Mr Elliot, calling again upon Anne to\ncome and look for herself, but Anne did not mean to stir, and tried to\nbe cool and unconcerned.  Her distress returned, however, on perceiving\nsmiles and intelligent glances pass between two or three of the lady\nvisitors, as if they believed themselves quite in the secret.  It was\nevident that the report concerning her had spread, and a short pause\nsucceeded, which seemed to ensure that it would now spread farther.\n\n\"Do come, Anne,\" cried Mary, \"come and look yourself.  You will be too\nlate if you do not make haste.  They are parting; they are shaking\nhands.  He is turning away.  Not know Mr Elliot, indeed!  You seem to\nhave forgot all about Lyme.\"\n\nTo pacify Mary, and perhaps screen her own embarrassment, Anne did move\nquietly to the window.  She was just in time to ascertain that it\nreally was Mr Elliot, which she had never believed, before he\ndisappeared on one side, as Mrs Clay walked quickly off on the other;\nand checking the surprise which she could not but feel at such an\nappearance of friendly conference between two persons of totally\nopposite interest, she calmly said, \"Yes, it is Mr Elliot, certainly.\nHe has changed his hour of going, I suppose, that is all, or I may be\nmistaken, I might not attend;\" and walked back to her chair,\nrecomposed, and with the comfortable hope of having acquitted herself\nwell.\n\nThe visitors took their leave; and Charles, having civilly seen them\noff, and then made a face at them, and abused them for coming, began\nwith--\n\n\"Well, mother, I have done something for you that you will like.  I\nhave been to the theatre, and secured a box for to-morrow night.  A'n't\nI a good boy?  I know you love a play; and there is room for us all.\nIt holds nine.  I have engaged Captain Wentworth.  Anne will not be\nsorry to join us, I am sure.  We all like a play.  Have not I done\nwell, mother?\"\n\nMrs Musgrove was good humouredly beginning to express her perfect\nreadiness for the play, if Henrietta and all the others liked it, when\nMary eagerly interrupted her by exclaiming--\n\n\"Good heavens, Charles! how can you think of such a thing?  Take a box\nfor to-morrow night!  Have you forgot that we are engaged to Camden\nPlace to-morrow night? and that we were most particularly asked to meet\nLady Dalrymple and her daughter, and Mr Elliot, and all the principal\nfamily connexions, on purpose to be introduced to them?  How can you be\nso forgetful?\"\n\n\"Phoo! phoo!\" replied Charles, \"what's an evening party?  Never worth\nremembering.  Your father might have asked us to dinner, I think, if he\nhad wanted to see us.  You may do as you like, but I shall go to the\nplay.\"\n\n\"Oh! Charles, I declare it will be too abominable if you do, when you\npromised to go.\"\n\n\"No, I did not promise.  I only smirked and bowed, and said the word\n'happy.'  There was no promise.\"\n\n\"But you must go, Charles.  It would be unpardonable to fail.  We were\nasked on purpose to be introduced.  There was always such a great\nconnexion between the Dalrymples and ourselves.  Nothing ever happened\non either side that was not announced immediately.  We are quite near\nrelations, you know; and Mr Elliot too, whom you ought so particularly\nto be acquainted with!  Every attention is due to Mr Elliot.  Consider,\nmy father's heir:  the future representative of the family.\"\n\n\"Don't talk to me about heirs and representatives,\" cried Charles.  \"I\nam not one of those who neglect the reigning power to bow to the rising\nsun.  If I would not go for the sake of your father, I should think it\nscandalous to go for the sake of his heir.  What is Mr Elliot to me?\"\nThe careless expression was life to Anne, who saw that Captain\nWentworth was all attention, looking and listening with his whole soul;\nand that the last words brought his enquiring eyes from Charles to\nherself.\n\nCharles and Mary still talked on in the same style; he, half serious\nand half jesting, maintaining the scheme for the play, and she,\ninvariably serious, most warmly opposing it, and not omitting to make\nit known that, however determined to go to Camden Place herself, she\nshould not think herself very well used, if they went to the play\nwithout her.  Mrs Musgrove interposed.\n\n\"We had better put it off.  Charles, you had much better go back and\nchange the box for Tuesday.  It would be a pity to be divided, and we\nshould be losing Miss Anne, too, if there is a party at her father's;\nand I am sure neither Henrietta nor I should care at all for the play,\nif Miss Anne could not be with us.\"\n\nAnne felt truly obliged to her for such kindness; and quite as much so\nfor the opportunity it gave her of decidedly saying--\n\n\"If it depended only on my inclination, ma'am, the party at home\n(excepting on Mary's account) would not be the smallest impediment.  I\nhave no pleasure in the sort of meeting, and should be too happy to\nchange it for a play, and with you.  But, it had better not be\nattempted, perhaps.\"  She had spoken it; but she trembled when it was\ndone, conscious that her words were listened to, and daring not even to\ntry to observe their effect.\n\nIt was soon generally agreed that Tuesday should be the day; Charles\nonly reserving the advantage of still teasing his wife, by persisting\nthat he would go to the play to-morrow if nobody else would.\n\nCaptain Wentworth left his seat, and walked to the fire-place; probably\nfor the sake of walking away from it soon afterwards, and taking a\nstation, with less bare-faced design, by Anne.\n\n\"You have not been long enough in Bath,\" said he, \"to enjoy the evening\nparties of the place.\"\n\n\"Oh! no.  The usual character of them has nothing for me.  I am no\ncard-player.\"\n\n\"You were not formerly, I know.  You did not use to like cards; but\ntime makes many changes.\"\n\n\"I am not yet so much changed,\" cried Anne, and stopped, fearing she\nhardly knew what misconstruction.  After waiting a few moments he said,\nand as if it were the result of immediate feeling, \"It is a period,\nindeed!  Eight years and a half is a period.\"\n\nWhether he would have proceeded farther was left to Anne's imagination\nto ponder over in a calmer hour; for while still hearing the sounds he\nhad uttered, she was startled to other subjects by Henrietta, eager to\nmake use of the present leisure for getting out, and calling on her\ncompanions to lose no time, lest somebody else should come in.\n\nThey were obliged to move.  Anne talked of being perfectly ready, and\ntried to look it; but she felt that could Henrietta have known the\nregret and reluctance of her heart in quitting that chair, in preparing\nto quit the room, she would have found, in all her own sensations for\nher cousin, in the very security of his affection, wherewith to pity\nher.\n\nTheir preparations, however, were stopped short.  Alarming sounds were\nheard; other visitors approached, and the door was thrown open for Sir\nWalter and Miss Elliot, whose entrance seemed to give a general chill.\nAnne felt an instant oppression, and wherever she looked saw symptoms\nof the same.  The comfort, the freedom, the gaiety of the room was\nover, hushed into cold composure, determined silence, or insipid talk,\nto meet the heartless elegance of her father and sister.  How\nmortifying to feel that it was so!\n\nHer jealous eye was satisfied in one particular.  Captain Wentworth was\nacknowledged again by each, by Elizabeth more graciously than before.\nShe even addressed him once, and looked at him more than once.\nElizabeth was, in fact, revolving a great measure.  The sequel\nexplained it.  After the waste of a few minutes in saying the proper\nnothings, she began to give the invitation which was to comprise all\nthe remaining dues of the Musgroves.  \"To-morrow evening, to meet a few\nfriends:  no formal party.\" It was all said very gracefully, and the\ncards with which she had provided herself, the \"Miss Elliot at home,\"\nwere laid on the table, with a courteous, comprehensive smile to all,\nand one smile and one card more decidedly for Captain Wentworth.  The\ntruth was, that Elizabeth had been long enough in Bath to understand\nthe importance of a man of such an air and appearance as his.  The past\nwas nothing.  The present was that Captain Wentworth would move about\nwell in her drawing-room.  The card was pointedly given, and Sir Walter\nand Elizabeth arose and disappeared.\n\nThe interruption had been short, though severe, and ease and animation\nreturned to most of those they left as the door shut them out, but not\nto Anne.  She could think only of the invitation she had with such\nastonishment witnessed, and of the manner in which it had been\nreceived; a manner of doubtful meaning, of surprise rather than\ngratification, of polite acknowledgement rather than acceptance.  She\nknew him; she saw disdain in his eye, and could not venture to believe\nthat he had determined to accept such an offering, as an atonement for\nall the insolence of the past.  Her spirits sank.  He held the card in\nhis hand after they were gone, as if deeply considering it.\n\n\"Only think of Elizabeth's including everybody!\" whispered Mary very\naudibly.  \"I do not wonder Captain Wentworth is delighted!  You see he\ncannot put the card out of his hand.\"\n\nAnne caught his eye, saw his cheeks glow, and his mouth form itself\ninto a momentary expression of contempt, and turned away, that she\nmight neither see nor hear more to vex her.\n\nThe party separated.  The gentlemen had their own pursuits, the ladies\nproceeded on their own business, and they met no more while Anne\nbelonged to them.  She was earnestly begged to return and dine, and\ngive them all the rest of the day, but her spirits had been so long\nexerted that at present she felt unequal to more, and fit only for\nhome, where she might be sure of being as silent as she chose.\n\nPromising to be with them the whole of the following morning,\ntherefore, she closed the fatigues of the present by a toilsome walk to\nCamden Place, there to spend the evening chiefly in listening to the\nbusy arrangements of Elizabeth and Mrs Clay for the morrow's party, the\nfrequent enumeration of the persons invited, and the continually\nimproving detail of all the embellishments which were to make it the\nmost completely elegant of its kind in Bath, while harassing herself\nwith the never-ending question, of whether Captain Wentworth would come\nor not?  They were reckoning him as certain, but with her it was a\ngnawing solicitude never appeased for five minutes together.  She\ngenerally thought he would come, because she generally thought he\nought; but it was a case which she could not so shape into any positive\nact of duty or discretion, as inevitably to defy the suggestions of\nvery opposite feelings.\n\nShe only roused herself from the broodings of this restless agitation,\nto let Mrs Clay know that she had been seen with Mr Elliot three hours\nafter his being supposed to be out of Bath, for having watched in vain\nfor some intimation of the interview from the lady herself, she\ndetermined to mention it, and it seemed to her there was guilt in Mrs\nClay's face as she listened.  It was transient: cleared away in an\ninstant; but Anne could imagine she read there the consciousness of\nhaving, by some complication of mutual trick, or some overbearing\nauthority of his, been obliged to attend (perhaps for half an hour) to\nhis lectures and restrictions on her designs on Sir Walter.  She\nexclaimed, however, with a very tolerable imitation of nature:--\n\n\"Oh! dear! very true.  Only think, Miss Elliot, to my great surprise I\nmet with Mr Elliot in Bath Street.  I was never more astonished.  He\nturned back and walked with me to the Pump Yard.  He had been prevented\nsetting off for Thornberry, but I really forget by what; for I was in a\nhurry, and could not much attend, and I can only answer for his being\ndetermined not to be delayed in his return.  He wanted to know how\nearly he might be admitted to-morrow.  He was full of 'to-morrow,' and\nit is very evident that I have been full of it too, ever since I\nentered the house, and learnt the extension of your plan and all that\nhad happened, or my seeing him could never have gone so entirely out of\nmy head.\"\n\n\n\nChapter 23\n\n\nOne day only had passed since Anne's conversation with Mrs Smith; but a\nkeener interest had succeeded, and she was now so little touched by Mr\nElliot's conduct, except by its effects in one quarter, that it became\na matter of course the next morning, still to defer her explanatory\nvisit in Rivers Street.  She had promised to be with the Musgroves from\nbreakfast to dinner.  Her faith was plighted, and Mr Elliot's\ncharacter, like the Sultaness Scheherazade's head, must live another\nday.\n\nShe could not keep her appointment punctually, however; the weather was\nunfavourable, and she had grieved over the rain on her friends'\naccount, and felt it very much on her own, before she was able to\nattempt the walk.  When she reached the White Hart, and made her way to\nthe proper apartment, she found herself neither arriving quite in time,\nnor the first to arrive.  The party before her were, Mrs Musgrove,\ntalking to Mrs Croft, and Captain Harville to Captain Wentworth; and\nshe immediately heard that Mary and Henrietta, too impatient to wait,\nhad gone out the moment it had cleared, but would be back again soon,\nand that the strictest injunctions had been left with Mrs Musgrove to\nkeep her there till they returned.  She had only to submit, sit down,\nbe outwardly composed, and feel herself plunged at once in all the\nagitations which she had merely laid her account of tasting a little\nbefore the morning closed.  There was no delay, no waste of time.  She\nwas deep in the happiness of such misery, or the misery of such\nhappiness, instantly.  Two minutes after her entering the room, Captain\nWentworth said--\n\n\"We will write the letter we were talking of, Harville, now, if you\nwill give me materials.\"\n\nMaterials were at hand, on a separate table; he went to it, and nearly\nturning his back to them all, was engrossed by writing.\n\nMrs Musgrove was giving Mrs Croft the history of her eldest daughter's\nengagement, and just in that inconvenient tone of voice which was\nperfectly audible while it pretended to be a whisper.  Anne felt that\nshe did not belong to the conversation, and yet, as Captain Harville\nseemed thoughtful and not disposed to talk, she could not avoid hearing\nmany undesirable particulars; such as, \"how Mr Musgrove and my brother\nHayter had met again and again to talk it over; what my brother Hayter\nhad said one day, and what Mr Musgrove had proposed the next, and what\nhad occurred to my sister Hayter, and what the young people had wished,\nand what I said at first I never could consent to, but was afterwards\npersuaded to think might do very well,\" and a great deal in the same\nstyle of open-hearted communication:  minutiae which, even with every\nadvantage of taste and delicacy, which good Mrs Musgrove could not\ngive, could be properly interesting only to the principals.  Mrs Croft\nwas attending with great good-humour, and whenever she spoke at all, it\nwas very sensibly.  Anne hoped the gentlemen might each be too much\nself-occupied to hear.\n\n\"And so, ma'am, all these thing considered,\" said Mrs Musgrove, in her\npowerful whisper, \"though we could have wished it different, yet,\naltogether, we did not think it fair to stand out any longer, for\nCharles Hayter was quite wild about it, and Henrietta was pretty near\nas bad; and so we thought they had better marry at once, and make the\nbest of it, as many others have done before them.  At any rate, said I,\nit will be better than a long engagement.\"\n\n\"That is precisely what I was going to observe,\" cried Mrs Croft.  \"I\nwould rather have young people settle on a small income at once, and\nhave to struggle with a few difficulties together, than be involved in\na long engagement.  I always think that no mutual--\"\n\n\"Oh! dear Mrs Croft,\" cried Mrs Musgrove, unable to let her finish her\nspeech, \"there is nothing I so abominate for young people as a long\nengagement.  It is what I always protested against for my children.  It\nis all very well, I used to say, for young people to be engaged, if\nthere is a certainty of their being able to marry in six months, or\neven in twelve; but a long engagement--\"\n\n\"Yes, dear ma'am,\" said Mrs Croft, \"or an uncertain engagement, an\nengagement which may be long.  To begin without knowing that at such a\ntime there will be the means of marrying, I hold to be very unsafe and\nunwise, and what I think all parents should prevent as far as they can.\"\n\nAnne found an unexpected interest here.  She felt its application to\nherself, felt it in a nervous thrill all over her; and at the same\nmoment that her eyes instinctively glanced towards the distant table,\nCaptain Wentworth's pen ceased to move, his head was raised, pausing,\nlistening, and he turned round the next instant to give a look, one\nquick, conscious look at her.\n\nThe two ladies continued to talk, to re-urge the same admitted truths,\nand enforce them with such examples of the ill effect of a contrary\npractice as had fallen within their observation, but Anne heard nothing\ndistinctly; it was only a buzz of words in her ear, her mind was in\nconfusion.\n\nCaptain Harville, who had in truth been hearing none of it, now left\nhis seat, and moved to a window, and Anne seeming to watch him, though\nit was from thorough absence of mind, became gradually sensible that he\nwas inviting her to join him where he stood.  He looked at her with a\nsmile, and a little motion of the head, which expressed, \"Come to me, I\nhave something to say;\" and the unaffected, easy kindness of manner\nwhich denoted the feelings of an older acquaintance than he really was,\nstrongly enforced the invitation.  She roused herself and went to him.\nThe window at which he stood was at the other end of the room from\nwhere the two ladies were sitting, and though nearer to Captain\nWentworth's table, not very near.  As she joined him, Captain\nHarville's countenance re-assumed the serious, thoughtful expression\nwhich seemed its natural character.\n\n\"Look here,\" said he, unfolding a parcel in his hand, and displaying a\nsmall miniature painting, \"do you know who that is?\"\n\n\"Certainly:  Captain Benwick.\"\n\n\"Yes, and you may guess who it is for.  But,\" (in a deep tone,) \"it was\nnot done for her.  Miss Elliot, do you remember our walking together at\nLyme, and grieving for him?  I little thought then--but no matter.\nThis was drawn at the Cape.  He met with a clever young German artist\nat the Cape, and in compliance with a promise to my poor sister, sat to\nhim, and was bringing it home for her; and I have now the charge of\ngetting it properly set for another!  It was a commission to me!  But\nwho else was there to employ?  I hope I can allow for him.  I am not\nsorry, indeed, to make it over to another.  He undertakes it;\" (looking\ntowards Captain Wentworth,) \"he is writing about it now.\"  And with a\nquivering lip he wound up the whole by adding, \"Poor Fanny! she would\nnot have forgotten him so soon!\"\n\n\"No,\" replied Anne, in a low, feeling voice. \"That I can easily\nbelieve.\"\n\n\"It was not in her nature.  She doted on him.\"\n\n\"It would not be the nature of any woman who truly loved.\"\n\nCaptain Harville smiled, as much as to say, \"Do you claim that for your\nsex?\" and she answered the question, smiling also, \"Yes.  We certainly\ndo not forget you as soon as you forget us.  It is, perhaps, our fate\nrather than our merit.  We cannot help ourselves.  We live at home,\nquiet, confined, and our feelings prey upon us.  You are forced on\nexertion.  You have always a profession, pursuits, business of some\nsort or other, to take you back into the world immediately, and\ncontinual occupation and change soon weaken impressions.\"\n\n\"Granting your assertion that the world does all this so soon for men\n(which, however, I do not think I shall grant), it does not apply to\nBenwick.  He has not been forced upon any exertion.  The peace turned\nhim on shore at the very moment, and he has been living with us, in our\nlittle family circle, ever since.\"\n\n\"True,\" said Anne, \"very true; I did not recollect; but what shall we\nsay now, Captain Harville?  If the change be not from outward\ncircumstances, it must be from within; it must be nature, man's nature,\nwhich has done the business for Captain Benwick.\"\n\n\"No, no, it is not man's nature.  I will not allow it to be more man's\nnature than woman's to be inconstant and forget those they do love, or\nhave loved.  I believe the reverse.  I believe in a true analogy\nbetween our bodily frames and our mental; and that as our bodies are\nthe strongest, so are our feelings; capable of bearing most rough\nusage, and riding out the heaviest weather.\"\n\n\"Your feelings may be the strongest,\" replied Anne, \"but the same\nspirit of analogy will authorise me to assert that ours are the most\ntender.  Man is more robust than woman, but he is not longer lived;\nwhich exactly explains my view of the nature of their attachments.\nNay, it would be too hard upon you, if it were otherwise.  You have\ndifficulties, and privations, and dangers enough to struggle with.  You\nare always labouring and toiling, exposed to every risk and hardship.\nYour home, country, friends, all quitted.  Neither time, nor health,\nnor life, to be called your own.  It would be hard, indeed\" (with a\nfaltering voice), \"if woman's feelings were to be added to all this.\"\n\n\"We shall never agree upon this question,\" Captain Harville was\nbeginning to say, when a slight noise called their attention to Captain\nWentworth's hitherto perfectly quiet division of the room.  It was\nnothing more than that his pen had fallen down; but Anne was startled\nat finding him nearer than she had supposed, and half inclined to\nsuspect that the pen had only fallen because he had been occupied by\nthem, striving to catch sounds, which yet she did not think he could\nhave caught.\n\n\"Have you finished your letter?\" said Captain Harville.\n\n\"Not quite, a few lines more.  I shall have done in five minutes.\"\n\n\"There is no hurry on my side.  I am only ready whenever you are.  I am\nin very good anchorage here,\" (smiling at Anne,) \"well supplied, and\nwant for nothing.  No hurry for a signal at all.  Well, Miss Elliot,\"\n(lowering his voice,) \"as I was saying we shall never agree, I suppose,\nupon this point.  No man and woman, would, probably.  But let me\nobserve that all histories are against you--all stories, prose and\nverse.  If I had such a memory as Benwick, I could bring you fifty\nquotations in a moment on my side the argument, and I do not think I\never opened a book in my life which had not something to say upon\nwoman's inconstancy.  Songs and proverbs, all talk of woman's\nfickleness.  But perhaps you will say, these were all written by men.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I shall.  Yes, yes, if you please, no reference to examples in\nbooks.  Men have had every advantage of us in telling their own story.\nEducation has been theirs in so much higher a degree; the pen has been\nin their hands.  I will not allow books to prove anything.\"\n\n\"But how shall we prove anything?\"\n\n\"We never shall.  We never can expect to prove any thing upon such a\npoint.  It is a difference of opinion which does not admit of proof.\nWe each begin, probably, with a little bias towards our own sex; and\nupon that bias build every circumstance in favour of it which has\noccurred within our own circle; many of which circumstances (perhaps\nthose very cases which strike us the most) may be precisely such as\ncannot be brought forward without betraying a confidence, or in some\nrespect saying what should not be said.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" cried Captain Harville, in a tone of strong feeling, \"if I could\nbut make you comprehend what a man suffers when he takes a last look at\nhis wife and children, and watches the boat that he has sent them off\nin, as long as it is in sight, and then turns away and says, 'God knows\nwhether we ever meet again!' And then, if I could convey to you the\nglow of his soul when he does see them again; when, coming back after a\ntwelvemonth's absence, perhaps, and obliged to put into another port,\nhe calculates how soon it be possible to get them there, pretending to\ndeceive himself, and saying, 'They cannot be here till such a day,' but\nall the while hoping for them twelve hours sooner, and seeing them\narrive at last, as if Heaven had given them wings, by many hours sooner\nstill!  If I could explain to you all this, and all that a man can bear\nand do, and glories to do, for the sake of these treasures of his\nexistence!  I speak, you know, only of such men as have hearts!\"\npressing his own with emotion.\n\n\"Oh!\" cried Anne eagerly, \"I hope I do justice to all that is felt by\nyou, and by those who resemble you.  God forbid that I should\nundervalue the warm and faithful feelings of any of my\nfellow-creatures!  I should deserve utter contempt if I dared to\nsuppose that true attachment and constancy were known only by woman.\nNo, I believe you capable of everything great and good in your married\nlives.  I believe you equal to every important exertion, and to every\ndomestic forbearance, so long as--if I may be allowed the\nexpression--so long as you have an object.  I meanwhile the woman you\nlove lives, and lives for you.  All the privilege I claim for my own\nsex (it is not a very enviable one; you need not covet it), is that of\nloving longest, when existence or when hope is gone.\"\n\nShe could not immediately have uttered another sentence; her heart was\ntoo full, her breath too much oppressed.\n\n\"You are a good soul,\" cried Captain Harville, putting his hand on her\narm, quite affectionately.  \"There is no quarrelling with you.  And\nwhen I think of Benwick, my tongue is tied.\"\n\nTheir attention was called towards the others.  Mrs Croft was taking\nleave.\n\n\"Here, Frederick, you and I part company, I believe,\" said she.  \"I am\ngoing home, and you have an engagement with your friend.  To-night we\nmay have the pleasure of all meeting again at your party,\" (turning to\nAnne.)  \"We had your sister's card yesterday, and I understood\nFrederick had a card too, though I did not see it; and you are\ndisengaged, Frederick, are you not, as well as ourselves?\"\n\nCaptain Wentworth was folding up a letter in great haste, and either\ncould not or would not answer fully.\n\n\"Yes,\" said he, \"very true; here we separate, but Harville and I shall\nsoon be after you; that is, Harville, if you are ready, I am in half a\nminute.  I know you will not be sorry to be off.  I shall be at your\nservice in half a minute.\"\n\nMrs Croft left them, and Captain Wentworth, having sealed his letter\nwith great rapidity, was indeed ready, and had even a hurried, agitated\nair, which shewed impatience to be gone.  Anne knew not how to\nunderstand it.  She had the kindest \"Good morning, God bless you!\" from\nCaptain Harville, but from him not a word, nor a look!  He had passed\nout of the room without a look!\n\nShe had only time, however, to move closer to the table where he had\nbeen writing, when footsteps were heard returning; the door opened, it\nwas himself.  He begged their pardon, but he had forgotten his gloves,\nand instantly crossing the room to the writing table, he drew out a\nletter from under the scattered paper, placed it before Anne with eyes\nof glowing entreaty fixed on her for a time, and hastily collecting his\ngloves, was again out of the room, almost before Mrs Musgrove was aware\nof his being in it: the work of an instant!\n\nThe revolution which one instant had made in Anne, was almost beyond\nexpression.  The letter, with a direction hardly legible, to \"Miss A.\nE.--,\" was evidently the one which he had been folding so hastily.\nWhile supposed to be writing only to Captain Benwick, he had been also\naddressing her!  On the contents of that letter depended all which this\nworld could do for her.  Anything was possible, anything might be\ndefied rather than suspense.  Mrs Musgrove had little arrangements of\nher own at her own table; to their protection she must trust, and\nsinking into the chair which he had occupied, succeeding to the very\nspot where he had leaned and written, her eyes devoured the following\nwords:\n\n\n\"I can listen no longer in silence.  I must speak to you by such means\nas are within my reach.  You pierce my soul.  I am half agony, half\nhope.  Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are\ngone for ever.  I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your\nown than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago.  Dare\nnot say that man forgets sooner than  woman, that his love has an\nearlier death.  I have loved none but you.  Unjust I may have been,\nweak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant.  You alone have\nbrought me to Bath.  For you alone, I think and plan.  Have you not\nseen this?  Can you fail to have understood my wishes?  I had not\nwaited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think\nyou must have penetrated mine.  I can hardly write.  I am every instant\nhearing something which overpowers me.  You sink your voice, but I can\ndistinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others.\nToo good, too excellent creature!  You do us justice, indeed.  You do\nbelieve that there is true attachment and constancy among men.  Believe\nit to be most fervent, most undeviating, in F. W.\n\n\"I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow\nyour party, as soon as possible.  A word, a look, will be enough to\ndecide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never.\"\n\n\nSuch a letter was not to be soon recovered from.  Half an hour's\nsolitude and reflection might have tranquillized her; but the ten\nminutes only which now passed before she was interrupted, with all the\nrestraints of her situation, could do nothing towards tranquillity.\nEvery moment rather brought fresh agitation.  It was overpowering\nhappiness.  And before she was beyond the first stage of full\nsensation, Charles, Mary, and Henrietta all came in.\n\nThe absolute necessity of seeming like herself produced then an\nimmediate struggle; but after a while she could do no more.  She began\nnot to understand a word they said, and was obliged to plead\nindisposition and excuse herself.  They could then see that she looked\nvery ill, were shocked and concerned, and would not stir without her\nfor the world.  This was dreadful.  Would they only have gone away, and\nleft her in the quiet possession of that room it would have been her\ncure; but to have them all standing or waiting around her was\ndistracting, and in desperation, she said she would go home.\n\n\"By all means, my dear,\" cried Mrs Musgrove, \"go home directly, and\ntake care of yourself, that you may be fit for the evening.  I wish\nSarah was here to doctor you, but I am no doctor myself.  Charles, ring\nand order a chair.  She must not walk.\"\n\nBut the chair would never do.  Worse than all!  To lose the possibility\nof speaking two words to Captain Wentworth in the course of her quiet,\nsolitary progress up the town (and she felt almost certain of meeting\nhim) could not be borne.  The chair was earnestly protested against,\nand Mrs Musgrove, who thought only of one sort of illness, having\nassured herself with some anxiety, that there had been no fall in the\ncase; that Anne had not at any time lately slipped down, and got a blow\non her head; that she was perfectly convinced of having had no fall;\ncould part with her cheerfully, and depend on finding her better at\nnight.\n\nAnxious to omit no possible precaution, Anne struggled, and said--\n\n\"I am afraid, ma'am, that it is not perfectly understood.  Pray be so\ngood as to mention to the other gentlemen that we hope to see your\nwhole party this evening.  I am afraid there had been some mistake; and\nI wish you particularly to assure Captain Harville and Captain\nWentworth, that we hope to see them both.\"\n\n\"Oh! my dear, it is quite understood, I give you my word.  Captain\nHarville has no thought but of going.\"\n\n\"Do you think so?  But I am afraid; and I should be so very sorry.\nWill you promise me to mention it, when you see them again?  You will\nsee them both this morning, I dare say.  Do promise me.\"\n\n\"To be sure I will, if you wish it.  Charles, if you see Captain\nHarville anywhere, remember to give Miss Anne's message.  But indeed,\nmy dear, you need not be uneasy.  Captain Harville holds himself quite\nengaged, I'll answer for it; and Captain Wentworth the same, I dare\nsay.\"\n\nAnne could do no more; but her heart prophesied some mischance to damp\nthe perfection of her felicity.  It could not be very lasting, however.\nEven if he did not come to Camden Place himself, it would be in her\npower to send an intelligible sentence by Captain Harville.  Another\nmomentary vexation occurred.  Charles, in his real concern and good\nnature, would go home with her; there was no preventing him.  This was\nalmost cruel.  But she could not be long ungrateful; he was sacrificing\nan engagement at a gunsmith's, to be of use to her; and she set off\nwith him, with no feeling but gratitude apparent.\n\nThey were on Union Street, when a quicker step behind, a something of\nfamiliar sound, gave her two moments' preparation for the sight of\nCaptain Wentworth.  He joined them; but, as if irresolute whether to\njoin or to pass on, said nothing, only looked.  Anne could command\nherself enough to receive that look, and not repulsively.  The cheeks\nwhich had been pale now glowed, and the movements which had hesitated\nwere decided.  He walked by her side.  Presently, struck by a sudden\nthought, Charles said--\n\n\"Captain Wentworth, which way are you going?  Only to Gay Street, or\nfarther up the town?\"\n\n\"I hardly know,\" replied Captain Wentworth, surprised.\n\n\"Are you going as high as Belmont?  Are you going near Camden Place?\nBecause, if you are, I shall have no scruple in asking you to take my\nplace, and give Anne your arm to her father's door.  She is rather done\nfor this morning, and must not go so far without help, and I ought to\nbe at that fellow's in the Market Place.  He promised me the sight of a\ncapital gun he is just going to send off; said he would keep it\nunpacked to the last possible moment, that I might see it; and if I do\nnot turn back now, I have no chance.  By his description, a good deal\nlike the second size double-barrel of mine, which you shot with one day\nround Winthrop.\"\n\nThere could not be an objection.  There could be only the most proper\nalacrity, a most obliging compliance for public view; and smiles reined\nin and spirits dancing in private rapture.  In half a minute Charles\nwas at the bottom of Union Street again, and the other two proceeding\ntogether:  and soon words enough had passed between them to decide\ntheir direction towards the comparatively quiet and retired gravel\nwalk, where the power of conversation would make the present hour a\nblessing indeed, and prepare it for all the immortality which the\nhappiest recollections of their own future lives could bestow.  There\nthey exchanged again those feelings and those promises which had once\nbefore seemed to secure everything, but which had been followed by so\nmany, many years of division and estrangement.  There they returned\nagain into the past, more exquisitely happy, perhaps, in their\nre-union, than when it had been first projected; more tender, more\ntried, more fixed in a knowledge of each other's character, truth, and\nattachment; more equal to act, more justified in acting.  And there, as\nthey slowly paced the gradual ascent, heedless of every group around\nthem, seeing neither sauntering politicians, bustling housekeepers,\nflirting girls, nor nursery-maids and children, they could indulge in\nthose retrospections and acknowledgements, and especially in those\nexplanations of what had directly preceded the present moment, which\nwere so poignant and so ceaseless in interest.  All the little\nvariations of the last week were gone through; and of yesterday and\ntoday there could scarcely be an end.\n\nShe had not mistaken him.  Jealousy of Mr Elliot had been the retarding\nweight, the doubt, the torment.  That had begun to operate in the very\nhour of first meeting her in Bath; that had returned, after a short\nsuspension, to ruin the concert; and that had influenced him in\neverything he had said and done, or omitted to say and do, in the last\nfour-and-twenty hours.  It had been gradually yielding to the better\nhopes which her looks, or words, or actions occasionally encouraged; it\nhad been vanquished at last by those sentiments and those tones which\nhad reached him while she talked with Captain Harville; and under the\nirresistible governance of which he had seized a sheet of paper, and\npoured out his feelings.\n\nOf what he had then written, nothing was to be retracted or qualified.\nHe persisted in having loved none but her.  She had never been\nsupplanted.  He never even believed himself to see her equal.  Thus\nmuch indeed he was obliged to acknowledge:  that he had been constant\nunconsciously, nay unintentionally; that he had meant to forget her,\nand believed it to be done.  He had imagined himself indifferent, when\nhe had only been angry; and he had been unjust to her merits, because\nhe had been a sufferer from them.  Her character was now fixed on his\nmind as perfection itself, maintaining the loveliest medium of\nfortitude and gentleness; but he was obliged to acknowledge that only\nat Uppercross had he learnt to do her justice, and only at Lyme had he\nbegun to understand himself.  At Lyme, he had received lessons of more\nthan one sort.  The passing admiration of Mr Elliot had at least roused\nhim, and the scenes on the Cobb and at Captain Harville's had fixed her\nsuperiority.\n\nIn his preceding attempts to attach himself to Louisa Musgrove (the\nattempts of angry pride), he protested that he had for ever felt it to\nbe impossible; that he had not cared, could not care, for Louisa;\nthough till that day, till the leisure for reflection which followed\nit, he had not understood the perfect excellence of the mind with which\nLouisa's could so ill bear a comparison, or the perfect unrivalled hold\nit possessed over his own.  There, he had learnt to distinguish between\nthe steadiness of principle and the obstinacy of self-will, between the\ndarings of heedlessness and the resolution of a collected mind.  There\nhe had seen everything to exalt in his estimation the woman he had\nlost; and there begun to deplore the pride, the folly, the madness of\nresentment, which had kept him from trying to regain her when thrown in\nhis way.\n\nFrom that period his penance had become severe.  He had no sooner been\nfree from the horror and remorse attending the first few days of\nLouisa's accident, no sooner begun to feel himself alive again, than he\nhad begun to feel himself, though alive, not at liberty.\n\n\"I found,\" said he, \"that I was considered by Harville an engaged man!\nThat neither Harville nor his wife entertained a doubt of our mutual\nattachment.  I was startled and shocked.  To a degree, I could\ncontradict this instantly; but, when I began to reflect that others\nmight have felt the same--her own family, nay, perhaps herself--I was\nno longer at my own disposal.  I was hers in honour if she wished it.\nI had been unguarded.  I had not thought seriously on this subject\nbefore.  I had not considered that my excessive intimacy must have its\ndanger of ill consequence in many ways; and that I had no right to be\ntrying whether I could attach myself to either of the girls, at the\nrisk of raising even an unpleasant report, were there no other ill\neffects.  I had been grossly wrong, and must abide the consequences.\"\n\nHe found too late, in short, that he had entangled himself; and that\nprecisely as he became fully satisfied of his not caring for Louisa at\nall, he must regard himself as bound to her, if her sentiments for him\nwere what the Harvilles supposed.  It determined him to leave Lyme, and\nawait her complete recovery elsewhere.  He would gladly weaken, by any\nfair means, whatever feelings or speculations concerning him might\nexist; and he went, therefore, to his brother's, meaning after a while\nto return to Kellynch, and act as circumstances might require.\n\n\"I was six weeks with Edward,\" said he, \"and saw him happy.  I could\nhave no other pleasure.  I deserved none.  He enquired after you very\nparticularly; asked even if you were personally altered, little\nsuspecting that to my eye you could never alter.\"\n\nAnne smiled, and let it pass.  It was too pleasing a blunder for a\nreproach.  It is something for a woman to be assured, in her\neight-and-twentieth year, that she has not lost one charm of earlier\nyouth; but the value of such homage was inexpressibly increased to\nAnne, by comparing it with former words, and feeling it to be the\nresult, not the cause of a revival of his warm attachment.\n\nHe had remained in Shropshire, lamenting the blindness of his own\npride, and the blunders of his own calculations, till at once released\nfrom Louisa by the astonishing and felicitous intelligence of her\nengagement with Benwick.\n\n\"Here,\" said he, \"ended the worst of my state; for now I could at least\nput myself in the way of happiness; I could exert myself; I could do\nsomething.  But to be waiting so long in inaction, and waiting only for\nevil, had been dreadful.  Within the first five minutes I said, 'I will\nbe at Bath on Wednesday,' and I was.  Was it unpardonable to think it\nworth my while to come? and to arrive with some degree of hope?  You\nwere single.  It was possible that you might retain the feelings of the\npast, as I did; and one encouragement happened to be mine.  I could\nnever doubt that you would be loved and sought by others, but I knew to\na certainty that you had refused one man, at least, of better\npretensions than myself; and I could not help often saying, 'Was this\nfor me?'\"\n\nTheir first meeting in Milsom Street afforded much to be said, but the\nconcert still more.  That evening seemed to be made up of exquisite\nmoments.  The moment of her stepping forward in the Octagon Room to\nspeak to him:  the moment of Mr Elliot's appearing and tearing her\naway, and one or two subsequent moments, marked by returning hope or\nincreasing despondency, were dwelt on with energy.\n\n\"To see you,\" cried he, \"in the midst of those who could not be my\nwell-wishers; to see your cousin close by you, conversing and smiling,\nand feel all the horrible eligibilities and proprieties of the match!\nTo consider it as the certain wish of every being who could hope to\ninfluence you!  Even if your own feelings were reluctant or\nindifferent, to consider what powerful supports would be his!  Was it\nnot enough to make the fool of me which I appeared?  How could I look\non without agony?  Was not the very sight of the friend who sat behind\nyou, was not the recollection of what had been, the knowledge of her\ninfluence, the indelible, immoveable impression of what persuasion had\nonce done--was it not all against me?\"\n\n\"You should have distinguished,\" replied Anne.  \"You should not have\nsuspected me now; the case is so different, and my age is so different.\nIf I was wrong in yielding to persuasion once, remember that it was to\npersuasion exerted on the side of safety, not of risk.  When I yielded,\nI thought it was to duty, but no duty could be called in aid here.  In\nmarrying a man indifferent to me, all risk would have been incurred,\nand all duty violated.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I ought to have reasoned thus,\" he replied, \"but I could not.\nI could not derive benefit from the late knowledge I had acquired of\nyour character.  I could not bring it into play; it was overwhelmed,\nburied, lost in those earlier feelings which I had been smarting under\nyear after year.  I could think of you only as one who had yielded, who\nhad given me up, who had been influenced by any one rather than by me.\nI saw you with the very person who had guided you in that year of\nmisery.  I had no reason to believe her of less authority now.  The\nforce of habit was to be added.\"\n\n\"I should have thought,\" said Anne, \"that my manner to yourself might\nhave spared you much or all of this.\"\n\n\"No, no! your manner might be only the ease which your engagement to\nanother man would give.  I left you in this belief; and yet, I was\ndetermined to see you again.  My spirits rallied with the morning, and\nI felt that I had still a motive for remaining here.\"\n\nAt last Anne was at home again, and happier than any one in that house\ncould have conceived.  All the surprise and suspense, and every other\npainful part of the morning dissipated by this conversation, she\nre-entered the house so happy as to be obliged to find an alloy in some\nmomentary apprehensions of its being impossible to last.  An interval\nof meditation, serious and grateful, was the best corrective of\neverything dangerous in such high-wrought felicity; and she went to her\nroom, and grew steadfast and fearless in the thankfulness of her\nenjoyment.\n\nThe evening came, the drawing-rooms were lighted up, the company\nassembled.  It was but a card party, it was but a mixture of those who\nhad never met before, and those who met too often; a commonplace\nbusiness, too numerous for intimacy, too small for variety; but Anne\nhad never found an evening shorter.  Glowing and lovely in sensibility\nand happiness, and more generally admired than she thought about or\ncared for, she had cheerful or forbearing feelings for every creature\naround her.  Mr Elliot was there; she avoided, but she could pity him.\nThe Wallises, she had amusement in understanding them.  Lady Dalrymple\nand Miss Carteret--they would soon be innoxious cousins to her.  She\ncared not for Mrs Clay, and had nothing to blush for in the public\nmanners of her father and sister.  With the Musgroves, there was the\nhappy chat of perfect ease; with Captain Harville, the kind-hearted\nintercourse of brother and sister; with Lady Russell, attempts at\nconversation, which a delicious consciousness cut short; with Admiral\nand Mrs Croft, everything of peculiar cordiality and fervent interest,\nwhich the same consciousness sought to conceal; and with Captain\nWentworth, some moments of communications continually occurring, and\nalways the hope of more, and always the knowledge of his being there.\n\nIt was in one of these short meetings, each apparently occupied in\nadmiring a fine display of greenhouse plants, that she said--\n\n\"I have been thinking over the past, and trying impartially to judge of\nthe right and wrong, I mean with regard to myself; and I must believe\nthat I was right, much as I suffered from it, that I was perfectly\nright in being guided by the friend whom you will love better than you\ndo now.  To me, she was in the place of a parent.  Do not mistake me,\nhowever.  I am not saying that she did not err in her advice.  It was,\nperhaps, one of those cases in which advice is good or bad only as the\nevent decides; and for myself, I certainly never should, in any\ncircumstance of tolerable similarity, give such advice.  But I mean,\nthat I was right in submitting to her, and that if I had done\notherwise, I should have suffered more in continuing the engagement\nthan I did even in giving it up, because I should have suffered in my\nconscience.  I have now, as far as such a sentiment is allowable in\nhuman nature, nothing to reproach myself with; and if I mistake not, a\nstrong sense of duty is no bad part of a woman's portion.\"\n\nHe looked at her, looked at Lady Russell, and looking again at her,\nreplied, as if in cool deliberation--\n\n\"Not yet.  But there are hopes of her being forgiven in time.  I trust\nto being in charity with her soon.  But I too have been thinking over\nthe past, and a  question has suggested itself, whether there may not\nhave been one person more my enemy even than that lady?  My own self.\nTell me if, when I returned to England in the year eight, with a few\nthousand pounds, and was posted into the Laconia, if I had then written\nto you, would you have answered my letter?  Would you, in short, have\nrenewed the engagement then?\"\n\n\"Would I!\" was all her answer; but the accent was decisive enough.\n\n\"Good God!\" he cried, \"you would!  It is not that I did not think of\nit, or desire it, as what could alone crown all my other success; but I\nwas proud, too proud to ask again.  I did not understand you.  I shut\nmy eyes, and would not understand you, or do you justice.  This is a\nrecollection which ought to make me forgive every one sooner than\nmyself.  Six years of separation and suffering might have been spared.\nIt is a sort of pain, too, which is new to me.  I have been used to the\ngratification of believing myself to earn every blessing that I\nenjoyed.  I have valued myself on honourable toils and just rewards.\nLike other great men under reverses,\" he added, with a smile. \"I must\nendeavour to subdue my mind to my fortune.  I must learn to brook being\nhappier than I deserve.\"\n\n\n\nChapter 24\n\n\nWho can be in doubt of what followed?  When any two young people take\nit into their heads to marry, they are pretty sure by perseverance to\ncarry their point, be they ever so poor, or ever so imprudent, or ever\nso little likely to be necessary to each other's ultimate comfort.\nThis may be bad morality to conclude with, but I believe it to be\ntruth; and if such parties succeed, how should a Captain Wentworth and\nan Anne Elliot, with the advantage of maturity of mind, consciousness\nof right, and one independent fortune between them, fail of bearing\ndown every opposition?  They might in fact, have borne down a great\ndeal more than they met with, for there was little to distress them\nbeyond the want of graciousness and warmth.  Sir Walter made no\nobjection, and Elizabeth did nothing worse than look cold and\nunconcerned.  Captain Wentworth, with five-and-twenty thousand pounds,\nand as high in his profession as merit and activity could place him,\nwas no longer nobody.  He was now esteemed quite worthy to address the\ndaughter of a foolish, spendthrift baronet, who had not had principle\nor sense enough to maintain himself in the situation in which\nProvidence had placed him, and who could give his daughter at present\nbut a small part of the share of ten thousand pounds which must be hers\nhereafter.\n\nSir Walter, indeed, though he had no affection for Anne, and no vanity\nflattered, to make him really happy on the occasion, was very far from\nthinking it a bad match for her.  On the contrary, when he saw more of\nCaptain Wentworth, saw him repeatedly by daylight, and eyed him well,\nhe was very much struck by his personal claims, and felt that his\nsuperiority of appearance might be not unfairly balanced against her\nsuperiority of rank; and all this, assisted by his well-sounding name,\nenabled Sir Walter at last to prepare his pen, with a very good grace,\nfor the insertion of the marriage in the volume of honour.\n\nThe only one among them, whose opposition of feeling could excite any\nserious anxiety was Lady Russell.  Anne knew that Lady Russell must be\nsuffering some pain in understanding and relinquishing Mr Elliot, and\nbe making some struggles to become truly acquainted with, and do\njustice to Captain Wentworth.  This however was what Lady Russell had\nnow to do.  She must learn to feel that she had been mistaken with\nregard to both; that she had been unfairly influenced by appearances in\neach; that because Captain Wentworth's manners had not suited her own\nideas, she had been too quick in suspecting them to indicate a\ncharacter of dangerous impetuosity; and that because Mr Elliot's\nmanners had precisely pleased her in their propriety and correctness,\ntheir general politeness and suavity, she had been too quick in\nreceiving them as the certain result of the most correct opinions and\nwell-regulated mind.  There was nothing less for Lady Russell to do,\nthan to admit that she had been pretty completely wrong, and to take up\na new set of opinions and of hopes.\n\nThere is a quickness of perception in some, a nicety in the discernment\nof character, a natural penetration, in short, which no experience in\nothers can equal, and Lady Russell had been less gifted in this part of\nunderstanding than her young friend.  But she was a very good woman,\nand if her second object was to be sensible and well-judging, her first\nwas to see Anne happy.  She loved Anne better than she loved her own\nabilities; and when the awkwardness of the beginning was over, found\nlittle hardship in attaching herself as a mother to the man who was\nsecuring the happiness of her other child.\n\nOf all the family, Mary was probably the one most immediately gratified\nby the circumstance.  It was creditable to have a sister married, and\nshe might flatter herself with having been greatly instrumental to the\nconnexion, by keeping Anne with her in the autumn; and as her own\nsister must be better than her husband's sisters, it was very agreeable\nthat Captain Wentworth should be a richer man than either Captain\nBenwick or Charles Hayter.  She had something to suffer, perhaps, when\nthey came into contact again, in seeing Anne restored to the rights of\nseniority, and the mistress of a very pretty landaulette; but she had a\nfuture to look forward to, of powerful consolation.  Anne had no\nUppercross Hall before her, no landed estate, no headship of a family;\nand if they could but keep Captain Wentworth from being made a baronet,\nshe would not change situations with Anne.\n\nIt would be well for the eldest sister if she were equally satisfied\nwith her situation, for a change is not very probable there.  She had\nsoon the mortification of seeing Mr Elliot withdraw, and no one of\nproper condition has since presented himself to raise even the\nunfounded hopes which sunk with him.\n\nThe news of his cousin Anne's engagement burst on Mr Elliot most\nunexpectedly.  It deranged his best plan of domestic happiness, his\nbest hope of keeping Sir Walter single by the watchfulness which a\nson-in-law's rights would have given.  But, though discomfited and\ndisappointed, he could still do something for his own interest and his\nown enjoyment.  He soon quitted Bath; and on Mrs Clay's quitting it\nsoon afterwards, and being next heard of as established under his\nprotection in London, it was evident how double a game he had been\nplaying, and how determined he was to save himself from being cut out\nby one artful woman, at least.\n\nMrs Clay's affections had overpowered her interest, and she had\nsacrificed, for the young man's sake, the possibility of scheming\nlonger for Sir Walter.  She has abilities, however, as well as\naffections; and it is now a doubtful point whether his cunning, or\nhers, may finally carry the day; whether, after preventing her from\nbeing the wife of Sir Walter, he may not be wheedled and caressed at\nlast into making her the wife of Sir William.\n\nIt cannot be doubted that Sir Walter and Elizabeth were shocked and\nmortified by the loss of their companion, and the discovery of their\ndeception in her.  They had their great cousins, to be sure, to resort\nto for comfort; but they must long feel that to flatter and follow\nothers, without being flattered and followed in turn, is but a state of\nhalf enjoyment.\n\nAnne, satisfied at a very early period of Lady Russell's meaning to\nlove Captain Wentworth as she ought, had no other alloy to the\nhappiness of her prospects than what arose from the consciousness of\nhaving no relations to bestow on him which a man of sense could value.\nThere she felt her own inferiority very keenly.  The disproportion in\ntheir fortune was nothing; it did not give her a moment's regret; but\nto have no family to receive and estimate him properly, nothing of\nrespectability, of harmony, of good will to offer in return for all the\nworth and all the prompt welcome which met her in his brothers and\nsisters, was a source of as lively pain as her mind could well be\nsensible of under circumstances of otherwise strong felicity.  She had\nbut two friends in the world to add to his list, Lady Russell and Mrs\nSmith.  To those, however, he was very well disposed to attach himself.\nLady Russell, in spite of all her former transgressions, he could now\nvalue from his heart.  While he was not obliged to say that he believed\nher to have been right in originally dividing them, he was ready to say\nalmost everything else in her favour, and as for Mrs Smith, she had\nclaims of various kinds to recommend her quickly and permanently.\n\nHer recent good offices by Anne had been enough in themselves, and\ntheir marriage, instead of depriving her of one friend, secured her\ntwo.  She was their earliest visitor in their settled life; and Captain\nWentworth, by putting her in the way of recovering her husband's\nproperty in the West Indies, by writing for her, acting for her, and\nseeing her through all the petty difficulties of the case with the\nactivity and exertion of a fearless man and a determined friend, fully\nrequited the services which she had rendered, or ever meant to render,\nto his wife.\n\nMrs Smith's enjoyments were not spoiled by this improvement of income,\nwith some improvement of health, and the acquisition of such friends to\nbe often with, for her cheerfulness and mental alacrity did not fail\nher; and while these prime supplies of good remained, she might have\nbid defiance even to greater accessions of worldly prosperity.  She\nmight have been absolutely rich and perfectly healthy, and yet be\nhappy.  Her spring of felicity was in the glow of her spirits, as her\nfriend Anne's was in the warmth of her heart.  Anne was tenderness\nitself, and she had the full worth of it in Captain Wentworth's\naffection.  His profession was all that could ever make her friends\nwish that tenderness less, the dread of a future war all that could dim\nher sunshine.  She gloried in being a sailor's wife, but she must pay\nthe tax of quick alarm for belonging to that profession which is, if\npossible, more distinguished in its domestic virtues than in its\nnational importance.\n\n\n\nFinis"