No More Learning

The intimacy had been formed before
our marriage. I found them most intimate friends; and I, too, became
excessively pleased with Mr Elliot, and entertained the highest opinion
of him. At nineteen, you know, one does not think very seriously; but
Mr Elliot appeared to me quite as good as others, and much more
agreeable than most others, and we were almost always together. We
were principally in town, living in very good style. He was then the
inferior in circumstances; he was then the poor one; he had chambers in
the Temple, and it was as much as he could do to support the appearance
of a gentleman. He had always a home with us whenever he chose it; he
was always welcome; he was like a brother. My poor Charles, who had
the finest, most generous spirit in the world, would have divided his
last farthing with him; and I know that his purse was open to him; I
know that he often assisted him. "

"This must have been about that very period of Mr Elliot's life," said
Anne, "which has always excited my particular curiosity. It must have
been about the same time that he became known to my father and sister.
I never knew him myself; I only heard of him; but there was a something
in his conduct then, with regard to my father and sister, and
afterwards in the circumstances of his marriage, which I never could
quite reconcile with present times. It seemed to announce a different
sort of man. "

"I know it all, I know it all," cried Mrs Smith. "He had been
introduced to Sir Walter and your sister before I was acquainted with
him, but I heard him speak of them for ever. I know he was invited and
encouraged, and I know he did not choose to go. I can satisfy you,
perhaps, on points which you would little expect; and as to his
marriage, I knew all about it at the time. I was privy to all the fors
and againsts; I was the friend to whom he confided his hopes and plans;
and though I did not know his wife previously, her inferior situation
in society, indeed, rendered that impossible, yet I knew her all her
life afterwards, or at least till within the last two years of her
life, and can answer any question you may wish to put. "

"Nay," said Anne, "I have no particular enquiry to make about her. I
have always understood they were not a happy couple. But I should like
to know why, at that time of his life, he should slight my father's
acquaintance as he did. My father was certainly disposed to take very
kind and proper notice of him. Why did Mr Elliot draw back? "

"Mr Elliot," replied Mrs Smith, "at that period of his life, had one
object in view: to make his fortune, and by a rather quicker process
than the law. He was determined to make it by marriage. He was
determined, at least, not to mar it by an imprudent marriage; and I
know it was his belief (whether justly or not, of course I cannot
decide), that your father and sister, in their civilities and
invitations, were designing a match between the heir and the young
lady, and it was impossible that such a match should have answered his
ideas of wealth and independence. That was his motive for drawing
back, I can assure you. He told me the whole story. He had no
concealments with me. It was curious, that having just left you behind
me in Bath, my first and principal acquaintance on marrying should be
your cousin; and that, through him, I should be continually hearing of
your father and sister. He described one Miss Elliot, and I thought
very affectionately of the other. "

"Perhaps," cried Anne, struck by a sudden idea, "you sometimes spoke of
me to Mr Elliot? "

"To be sure I did; very often. I used to boast of my own Anne Elliot,
and vouch for your being a very different creature from--"

She checked herself just in time.

"This accounts for something which Mr Elliot said last night," cried
Anne. "This explains it. I found he had been used to hear of me. I
could not comprehend how. What wild imaginations one forms where dear
self is concerned! How sure to be mistaken! But I beg your pardon; I
have interrupted you. Mr Elliot married then completely for money?
The circumstances, probably, which first opened your eyes to his
character. "

Mrs Smith hesitated a little here. "Oh! those things are too common.
When one lives in the world, a man or woman's marrying for money is too
common to strike one as it ought. I was very young, and associated
only with the young, and we were a thoughtless, gay set, without any
strict rules of conduct. We lived for enjoyment. I think differently
now; time and sickness and sorrow have given me other notions; but at
that period I must own I saw nothing reprehensible in what Mr Elliot
was doing. 'To do the best for himself,' passed as a duty. "

"But was not she a very low woman? "

"Yes; which I objected to, but he would not regard. Money, money, was
all that he wanted. Her father was a grazier, her grandfather had been
a butcher, but that was all nothing. She was a fine woman, had had a
decent education, was brought forward by some cousins, thrown by chance
into Mr Elliot's company, and fell in love with him; and not a
difficulty or a scruple was there on his side, with respect to her
birth. All his caution was spent in being secured of the real amount
of her fortune, before he committed himself. Depend upon it, whatever
esteem Mr Elliot may have for his own situation in life now, as a young
man he had not the smallest value for it. His chance for the Kellynch
estate was something, but all the honour of the family he held as cheap
as dirt. I have often heard him declare, that if baronetcies were
saleable, anybody should have his for fifty pounds, arms and motto,
name and livery included; but I will not pretend to repeat half that I
used to hear him say on that subject. It would not be fair; and yet
you ought to have proof, for what is all this but assertion, and you
shall have proof. "

"Indeed, my dear Mrs Smith, I want none," cried Anne. "You have
asserted nothing contradictory to what Mr Elliot appeared to be some
years ago. This is all in confirmation, rather, of what we used to
hear and believe. I am more curious to know why he should be so
different now. "

"But for my satisfaction, if you will have the goodness to ring for
Mary; stay: I am sure you will have the still greater goodness of
going yourself into my bedroom, and bringing me the small inlaid box
which you will find on the upper shelf of the closet. "

Anne, seeing her friend to be earnestly bent on it, did as she was
desired. The box was brought and placed before her, and Mrs Smith,
sighing over it as she unlocked it, said--

"This is full of papers belonging to him, to my husband; a small
portion only of what I had to look over when I lost him. The letter I
am looking for was one written by Mr Elliot to him before our marriage,
and happened to be saved; why, one can hardly imagine. But he was
careless and immethodical, like other men, about those things; and when
I came to examine his papers, I found it with others still more
trivial, from different people scattered here and there, while many
letters and memorandums of real importance had been destroyed. Here it
is; I would not burn it, because being even then very little satisfied
with Mr Elliot, I was determined to preserve every document of former
intimacy. I have now another motive for being glad that I can produce
it. "

This was the letter, directed to "Charles Smith, Esq. Tunbridge Wells,"
and dated from London, as far back as July, 1803:--

"Dear Smith,--I have received yours. Your kindness almost overpowers
me. I wish nature had made such hearts as yours more common, but I
have lived three-and-twenty years in the world, and have seen none like
it. At present, believe me, I have no need of your services, being in
cash again. Give me joy: I have got rid of Sir Walter and Miss. They
are gone back to Kellynch, and almost made me swear to visit them this
summer; but my first visit to Kellynch will be with a surveyor, to tell
me how to bring it with best advantage to the hammer. The baronet,
nevertheless, is not unlikely to marry again; he is quite fool enough.
If he does, however, they will leave me in peace, which may be a decent
equivalent for the reversion. He is worse than last year.

"I wish I had any name but Elliot. I am sick of it. The name of
Walter I can drop, thank God! and I desire you will never insult me
with my second W. again, meaning, for the rest of my life, to be only
yours truly,--Wm. Elliot. "

Such a letter could not be read without putting Anne in a glow; and Mrs
Smith, observing the high colour in her face, said--

"The language, I know, is highly disrespectful. Though I have forgot
the exact terms, I have a perfect impression of the general meaning.
But it shows you the man. Mark his professions to my poor husband.
Can any thing be stronger? "

Anne could not immediately get over the shock and mortification of
finding such words applied to her father. She was obliged to recollect
that her seeing the letter was a violation of the laws of honour, that
no one ought to be judged or to be known by such testimonies, that no
private correspondence could bear the eye of others, before she could
recover calmness enough to return the letter which she had been
meditating over, and say--

"Thank you. This is full proof undoubtedly; proof of every thing you
were saying. But why be acquainted with us now? "

"I can explain this too," cried Mrs Smith, smiling.

"Can you really? "

"Yes. I have shewn you Mr Elliot as he was a dozen years ago, and I
will shew him as he is now. I cannot produce written proof again, but
I can give as authentic oral testimony as you can desire, of what he is
now wanting, and what he is now doing. He is no hypocrite now. He
truly wants to marry you. His present attentions to your family are
very sincere: quite from the heart. I will give you my authority: his
friend Colonel Wallis. "

"Colonel Wallis! you are acquainted with him? "

"No. It does not come to me in quite so direct a line as that; it
takes a bend or two, but nothing of consequence. The stream is as good
as at first; the little rubbish it collects in the turnings is easily
moved away. Mr Elliot talks unreservedly to Colonel Wallis of his
views on you, which said Colonel Wallis, I imagine to be, in himself, a
sensible, careful, discerning sort of character; but Colonel Wallis has
a very pretty silly wife, to whom he tells things which he had better
not, and he repeats it all to her. She in the overflowing spirits of
her recovery, repeats it all to her nurse; and the nurse knowing my
acquaintance with you, very naturally brings it all to me. On Monday
evening, my good friend Mrs Rooke let me thus much into the secrets of
Marlborough Buildings. When I talked of a whole history, therefore,
you see I was not romancing so much as you supposed. "

"My dear Mrs Smith, your authority is deficient. This will not do. Mr
Elliot's having any views on me will not in the least account for the
efforts he made towards a reconciliation with my father. That was all
prior to my coming to Bath. I found them on the most friendly terms
when I arrived. "

"I know you did; I know it all perfectly, but--"

"Indeed, Mrs Smith, we must not expect to get real information in such
a line. Facts or opinions which are to pass through the hands of so
many, to be misconceived by folly in one, and ignorance in another, can
hardly have much truth left. "

"Only give me a hearing. You will soon be able to judge of the general
credit due, by listening to some particulars which you can yourself
immediately contradict or confirm. Nobody supposes that you were his
first inducement. He had seen you indeed, before he came to Bath, and
admired you, but without knowing it to be you. So says my historian,
at least. Is this true? Did he see you last summer or autumn,
'somewhere down in the west,' to use her own words, without knowing it
to be you? "

"He certainly did. So far it is very true. At Lyme. I happened to be
at Lyme. "

"Well," continued Mrs Smith, triumphantly, "grant my friend the credit
due to the establishment of the first point asserted. He saw you then
at Lyme, and liked you so well as to be exceedingly pleased to meet
with you again in Camden Place, as Miss Anne Elliot, and from that
moment, I have no doubt, had a double motive in his visits there. But
there was another, and an earlier, which I will now explain. If there
is anything in my story which you know to be either false or
improbable, stop me. My account states, that your sister's friend, the
lady now staying with you, whom I have heard you mention, came to Bath
with Miss Elliot and Sir Walter as long ago as September (in short when
they first came themselves), and has been staying there ever since;
that she is a clever, insinuating, handsome woman, poor and plausible,
and altogether such in situation and manner, as to give a general idea,
among Sir Walter's acquaintance, of her meaning to be Lady Elliot, and
as general a surprise that Miss Elliot should be apparently, blind to
the danger. "

Here Mrs Smith paused a moment; but Anne had not a word to say, and she
continued--

"This was the light in which it appeared to those who knew the family,
long before you returned to it; and Colonel Wallis had his eye upon
your father enough to be sensible of it, though he did not then visit
in Camden Place; but his regard for Mr Elliot gave him an interest in
watching all that was going on there, and when Mr Elliot came to Bath
for a day or two, as he happened to do a little before Christmas,
Colonel Wallis made him acquainted with the appearance of things, and
the reports beginning to prevail. Now you are to understand, that time
had worked a very material change in Mr Elliot's opinions as to the
value of a baronetcy. Upon all points of blood and connexion he is a
completely altered man. Having long had as much money as he could
spend, nothing to wish for on the side of avarice or indulgence, he has
been gradually learning to pin his happiness upon the consequence he is
heir to. I thought it coming on before our acquaintance ceased, but it
is now a confirmed feeling. He cannot bear the idea of not being Sir
William. You may guess, therefore, that the news he heard from his
friend could not be very agreeable, and you may guess what it produced;
the resolution of coming back to Bath as soon as possible, and of
fixing himself here for a time, with the view of renewing his former
acquaintance, and recovering such a footing in the family as might give
him the means of ascertaining the degree of his danger, and of
circumventing the lady if he found it material. This was agreed upon
between the two friends as the only thing to be done; and Colonel
Wallis was to assist in every way that he could. He was to be
introduced, and Mrs Wallis was to be introduced, and everybody was to
be introduced. Mr Elliot came back accordingly; and on application was
forgiven, as you know, and re-admitted into the family; and there it
was his constant object, and his only object (till your arrival added
another motive), to watch Sir Walter and Mrs Clay. He omitted no
opportunity of being with them, threw himself in their way, called at
all hours; but I need not be particular on this subject. You can
imagine what an artful man would do; and with this guide, perhaps, may
recollect what you have seen him do. "

"Yes," said Anne, "you tell me nothing which does not accord with what
I have known, or could imagine. There is always something offensive in
the details of cunning. The manoeuvres of selfishness and duplicity
must ever be revolting, but I have heard nothing which really surprises
me. I know those who would be shocked by such a representation of Mr
Elliot, who would have difficulty in believing it; but I have never
been satisfied. I have always wanted some other motive for his conduct
than appeared. I should like to know his present opinion, as to the
probability of the event he has been in dread of; whether he considers
the danger to be lessening or not. "

"Lessening, I understand," replied Mrs Smith. "He thinks Mrs Clay
afraid of him, aware that he sees through her, and not daring to
proceed as she might do in his absence. But since he must be absent
some time or other, I do not perceive how he can ever be secure while
she holds her present influence. Mrs Wallis has an amusing idea, as
nurse tells me, that it is to be put into the marriage articles when
you and Mr Elliot marry, that your father is not to marry Mrs Clay. A
scheme, worthy of Mrs Wallis's understanding, by all accounts; but my
sensible nurse Rooke sees the absurdity of it. 'Why, to be sure,
ma'am,' said she, 'it would not prevent his marrying anybody else. '
And, indeed, to own the truth, I do not think nurse, in her heart, is a
very strenuous opposer of Sir Walter's making a second match. She must
be allowed to be a favourer of matrimony, you know; and (since self
will intrude) who can say that she may not have some flying visions of
attending the next Lady Elliot, through Mrs Wallis's recommendation? "

"I am very glad to know all this," said Anne, after a little
thoughtfulness. "It will be more painful to me in some respects to be
in company with him, but I shall know better what to do. My line of
conduct will be more direct. Mr Elliot is evidently a disingenuous,
artificial, worldly man, who has never had any better principle to
guide him than selfishness. "

But Mr Elliot was not done with. Mrs Smith had been carried away from
her first direction, and Anne had forgotten, in the interest of her own
family concerns, how much had been originally implied against him; but
her attention was now called to the explanation of those first hints,
and she listened to a recital which, if it did not perfectly justify
the unqualified bitterness of Mrs Smith, proved him to have been very
unfeeling in his conduct towards her; very deficient both in justice
and compassion.

She learned that (the intimacy between them continuing unimpaired by Mr
Elliot's marriage) they had been as before always together, and Mr
Elliot had led his friend into expenses much beyond his fortune. Mrs
Smith did not want to take blame to herself, and was most tender of
throwing any on her husband; but Anne could collect that their income
had never been equal to their style of living, and that from the first
there had been a great deal of general and joint extravagance. From
his wife's account of him she could discern Mr Smith to have been a man
of warm feelings, easy temper, careless habits, and not strong
understanding, much more amiable than his friend, and very unlike him,
led by him, and probably despised by him. Mr Elliot, raised by his
marriage to great affluence, and disposed to every gratification of
pleasure and vanity which could be commanded without involving himself,
(for with all his self-indulgence he had become a prudent man), and
beginning to be rich, just as his friend ought to have found himself to
be poor, seemed to have had no concern at all for that friend's
probable finances, but, on the contrary, had been prompting and
encouraging expenses which could end only in ruin; and the Smiths
accordingly had been ruined.

The husband had died just in time to be spared the full knowledge of
it. They had previously known embarrassments enough to try the
friendship of their friends, and to prove that Mr Elliot's had better
not be tried; but it was not till his death that the wretched state of
his affairs was fully known. With a confidence in Mr Elliot's regard,
more creditable to his feelings than his judgement, Mr Smith had
appointed him the executor of his will; but Mr Elliot would not act,
and the difficulties and distress which this refusal had heaped on her,
in addition to the inevitable sufferings of her situation, had been
such as could not be related without anguish of spirit, or listened to
without corresponding indignation.

Anne was shewn some letters of his on the occasion, answers to urgent
applications from Mrs Smith, which all breathed the same stern
resolution of not engaging in a fruitless trouble, and, under a cold
civility, the same hard-hearted indifference to any of the evils it
might bring on her. It was a dreadful picture of ingratitude and
inhumanity; and Anne felt, at some moments, that no flagrant open crime
could have been worse. She had a great deal to listen to; all the
particulars of past sad scenes, all the minutiae of distress upon
distress, which in former conversations had been merely hinted at, were
dwelt on now with a natural indulgence. Anne could perfectly
comprehend the exquisite relief, and was only the more inclined to
wonder at the composure of her friend's usual state of mind.

There was one circumstance in the history of her grievances of
particular irritation. She had good reason to believe that some
property of her husband in the West Indies, which had been for many
years under a sort of sequestration for the payment of its own
incumbrances, might be recoverable by proper measures; and this
property, though not large, would be enough to make her comparatively
rich. But there was nobody to stir in it. Mr Elliot would do nothing,
and she could do nothing herself, equally disabled from personal
exertion by her state of bodily weakness, and from employing others by
her want of money. She had no natural connexions to assist her even
with their counsel, and she could not afford to purchase the assistance
of the law. This was a cruel aggravation of actually straitened means.
To feel that she ought to be in better circumstances, that a little
trouble in the right place might do it, and to fear that delay might be
even weakening her claims, was hard to bear.

It was on this point that she had hoped to engage Anne's good offices
with Mr Elliot. She had previously, in the anticipation of their
marriage, been very apprehensive of losing her friend by it; but on
being assured that he could have made no attempt of that nature, since
he did not even know her to be in Bath, it immediately occurred, that
something might be done in her favour by the influence of the woman he
loved, and she had been hastily preparing to interest Anne's feelings,
as far as the observances due to Mr Elliot's character would allow,
when Anne's refutation of the supposed engagement changed the face of
everything; and while it took from her the new-formed hope of
succeeding in the object of her first anxiety, left her at least the
comfort of telling the whole story her own way.

After listening to this full description of Mr Elliot, Anne could not
but express some surprise at Mrs Smith's having spoken of him so
favourably in the beginning of their conversation. "She had seemed to
recommend and praise him! "

"My dear," was Mrs Smith's reply, "there was nothing else to be done.
I considered your marrying him as certain, though he might not yet have
made the offer, and I could no more speak the truth of him, than if he
had been your husband. My heart bled for you, as I talked of
happiness; and yet he is sensible, he is agreeable, and with such a
woman as you, it was not absolutely hopeless. He was very unkind to
his first wife. They were wretched together. But she was too ignorant
and giddy for respect, and he had never loved her. I was willing to
hope that you must fare better. "

Anne could just acknowledge within herself such a possibility of having
been induced to marry him, as made her shudder at the idea of the
misery which must have followed. It was just possible that she might
have been persuaded by Lady Russell! And under such a supposition,
which would have been most miserable, when time had disclosed all, too
late?
It was very desirable that Lady Russell should be no longer deceived;
and one of the concluding arrangements of this important conference,
which carried them through the greater part of the morning, was, that
Anne had full liberty to communicate to her friend everything relative
to Mrs Smith, in which his conduct was involved.



Chapter 22


Anne went home to think over all that she had heard. In one point, her
feelings were relieved by this knowledge of Mr Elliot. There was no
longer anything of tenderness due to him. He stood as opposed to
Captain Wentworth, in all his own unwelcome obtrusiveness; and the evil
of his attentions last night, the irremediable mischief he might have
done, was considered with sensations unqualified, unperplexed. Pity
for him was all over. But this was the only point of relief. In every
other respect, in looking around her, or penetrating forward, she saw
more to distrust and to apprehend. She was concerned for the
disappointment and pain Lady Russell would be feeling; for the
mortifications which must be hanging over her father and sister, and
had all the distress of foreseeing many evils, without knowing how to
avert any one of them. She was most thankful for her own knowledge of
him. She had never considered herself as entitled to reward for not
slighting an old friend like Mrs Smith, but here was a reward indeed
springing from it! Mrs Smith had been able to tell her what no one
else could have done. Could the knowledge have been extended through
her family? But this was a vain idea. She must talk to Lady Russell,
tell her, consult with her, and having done her best, wait the event
with as much composure as possible; and after all, her greatest want of
composure would be in that quarter of the mind which could not be
opened to Lady Russell; in that flow of anxieties and fears which must
be all to herself.


She found, on reaching home, that she had, as she intended, escaped
seeing Mr Elliot; that he had called and paid them a long morning
visit; but hardly had she congratulated herself, and felt safe, when
she heard that he was coming again in the evening.

"I had not the smallest intention of asking him," said Elizabeth, with
affected carelessness, "but he gave so many hints; so Mrs Clay says, at
least. "

"Indeed, I do say it. I never saw anybody in my life spell harder for
an invitation. Poor man! I was really in pain for him; for your
hard-hearted sister, Miss Anne, seems bent on cruelty. "

"Oh! " cried Elizabeth, "I have been rather too much used to the game to
be soon overcome by a gentleman's hints. However, when I found how
excessively he was regretting that he should miss my father this
morning, I gave way immediately, for I would never really omit an
opportunity of bringing him and Sir Walter together. They appear to so
much advantage in company with each other. Each behaving so
pleasantly. Mr Elliot looking up with so much respect. "

"Quite delightful! " cried Mrs Clay, not daring, however, to turn her
eyes towards Anne. "Exactly like father and son! Dear Miss Elliot,
may I not say father and son? "

"Oh! I lay no embargo on any body's words. If you will have such
ideas! But, upon my word, I am scarcely sensible of his attentions
being beyond those of other men. "

"My dear Miss Elliot! " exclaimed Mrs Clay, lifting her hands and eyes,
and sinking all the rest of her astonishment in a convenient silence.

"Well, my dear Penelope, you need not be so alarmed about him. I did
invite him, you know. I sent him away with smiles. When I found he
was really going to his friends at Thornberry Park for the whole day
to-morrow, I had compassion on him. "

Anne admired the good acting of the friend, in being able to shew such
pleasure as she did, in the expectation and in the actual arrival of
the very person whose presence must really be interfering with her
prime object. It was impossible but that Mrs Clay must hate the sight
of Mr Elliot; and yet she could assume a most obliging, placid look,
and appear quite satisfied with the curtailed license of devoting
herself only half as much to Sir Walter as she would have done
otherwise.

To Anne herself it was most distressing to see Mr Elliot enter the
room; and quite painful to have him approach and speak to her. She had
been used before to feel that he could not be always quite sincere, but
now she saw insincerity in everything. His attentive deference to her
father, contrasted with his former language, was odious; and when she
thought of his cruel conduct towards Mrs Smith, she could hardly bear
the sight of his present smiles and mildness, or the sound of his
artificial good sentiments.

She meant to avoid any such alteration of manners as might provoke a
remonstrance on his side. It was a great object to her to escape all
enquiry or eclat; but it was her intention to be as decidedly cool to
him as might be compatible with their relationship; and to retrace, as
quietly as she could, the few steps of unnecessary intimacy she had
been gradually led along. She was accordingly more guarded, and more
cool, than she had been the night before.

He wanted to animate her curiosity again as to how and where he could
have heard her formerly praised; wanted very much to be gratified by
more solicitation; but the charm was broken: he found that the heat and
animation of a public room was necessary to kindle his modest cousin's
vanity; he found, at least, that it was not to be done now, by any of
those attempts which he could hazard among the too-commanding claims of
the others. He little surmised that it was a subject acting now
exactly against his interest, bringing immediately to her thoughts all
those parts of his conduct which were least excusable.

She had some satisfaction in finding that he was really going out of
Bath the next morning, going early, and that he would be gone the
greater part of two days. He was invited again to Camden Place the
very evening of his return; but from Thursday to Saturday evening his
absence was certain. It was bad enough that a Mrs Clay should be
always before her; but that a deeper hypocrite should be added to their
party, seemed the destruction of everything like peace and comfort. It
was so humiliating to reflect on the constant deception practised on
her father and Elizabeth; to consider the various sources of
mortification preparing for them! Mrs Clay's selfishness was not so
complicate nor so revolting as his; and Anne would have compounded for
the marriage at once, with all its evils, to be clear of Mr Elliot's
subtleties in endeavouring to prevent it.

On Friday morning she meant to go very early to Lady Russell, and
accomplish the necessary communication; and she would have gone
directly after breakfast, but that Mrs Clay was also going out on some
obliging purpose of saving her sister trouble, which determined her to
wait till she might be safe from such a companion. She saw Mrs Clay
fairly off, therefore, before she began to talk of spending the morning
in Rivers Street.

"Very well," said Elizabeth, "I have nothing to send but my love. Oh!
you may as well take back that tiresome book she would lend me, and
pretend I have read it through. I really cannot be plaguing myself for
ever with all the new poems and states of the nation that come out.
Lady Russell quite bores one with her new publications. You need not
tell her so, but I thought her dress hideous the other night. I used
to think she had some taste in dress, but I was ashamed of her at the
concert. Something so formal and _arrangé_ in her air! and she sits so
upright! My best love, of course. "

"And mine," added Sir Walter. "Kindest regards. And you may say, that
I mean to call upon her soon. Make a civil message; but I shall only
leave my card. Morning visits are never fair by women at her time of
life, who make themselves up so little. If she would only wear rouge
she would not be afraid of being seen; but last time I called, I
observed the blinds were let down immediately. "

While her father spoke, there was a knock at the door. Who could it
be? Anne, remembering the preconcerted visits, at all hours, of Mr
Elliot, would have expected him, but for his known engagement seven
miles off. After the usual period of suspense, the usual sounds of
approach were heard, and "Mr and Mrs Charles Musgrove" were ushered
into the room.

Surprise was the strongest emotion raised by their appearance; but Anne
was really glad to see them; and the others were not so sorry but that
they could put on a decent air of welcome; and as soon as it became
clear that these, their nearest relations, were not arrived with any
views of accommodation in that house, Sir Walter and Elizabeth were
able to rise in cordiality, and do the honours of it very well. They
were come to Bath for a few days with Mrs Musgrove, and were at the
White Hart. So much was pretty soon understood; but till Sir Walter
and Elizabeth were walking Mary into the other drawing-room, and
regaling themselves with her admiration, Anne could not draw upon
Charles's brain for a regular history of their coming, or an
explanation of some smiling hints of particular business, which had
been ostentatiously dropped by Mary, as well as of some apparent
confusion as to whom their party consisted of.

She then found that it consisted of Mrs Musgrove, Henrietta, and
Captain Harville, beside their two selves. He gave her a very plain,
intelligible account of the whole; a narration in which she saw a great
deal of most characteristic proceeding. The scheme had received its
first impulse by Captain Harville's wanting to come to Bath on
business. He had begun to talk of it a week ago; and by way of doing
something, as shooting was over, Charles had proposed coming with him,
and Mrs Harville had seemed to like the idea of it very much, as an
advantage to her husband; but Mary could not bear to be left, and had
made herself so unhappy about it, that for a day or two everything
seemed to be in suspense, or at an end. But then, it had been taken up
by his father and mother. His mother had some old friends in Bath whom
she wanted to see; it was thought a good opportunity for Henrietta to
come and buy wedding-clothes for herself and her sister; and, in short,
it ended in being his mother's party, that everything might be
comfortable and easy to Captain Harville; and he and Mary were included
in it by way of general convenience. They had arrived late the night
before. Mrs Harville, her children, and Captain Benwick, remained with
Mr Musgrove and Louisa at Uppercross.

Anne's only surprise was, that affairs should be in forwardness enough
for Henrietta's wedding-clothes to be talked of. She had imagined such
difficulties of fortune to exist there as must prevent the marriage
from being near at hand; but she learned from Charles that, very
recently, (since Mary's last letter to herself), Charles Hayter had
been applied to by a friend to hold a living for a youth who could not
possibly claim it under many years; and that on the strength of his
present income, with almost a certainty of something more permanent
long before the term in question, the two families had consented to the
young people's wishes, and that their marriage was likely to take place
in a few months, quite as soon as Louisa's. "And a very good living it
was," Charles added: "only five-and-twenty miles from Uppercross, and
in a very fine country: fine part of Dorsetshire. In the centre of
some of the best preserves in the kingdom, surrounded by three great
proprietors, each more careful and jealous than the other; and to two
of the three at least, Charles Hayter might get a special
recommendation. Not that he will value it as he ought," he observed,
"Charles is too cool about sporting. That's the worst of him. "

"I am extremely glad, indeed," cried Anne, "particularly glad that this
should happen; and that of two sisters, who both deserve equally well,
and who have always been such good friends, the pleasant prospect of
one should not be dimming those of the other--that they should be so
equal in their prosperity and comfort. I hope your father and mother
are quite happy with regard to both. "

"Oh! yes. My father would be well pleased if the gentlemen were
richer, but he has no other fault to find. Money, you know, coming
down with money--two daughters at once--it cannot be a very agreeable
operation, and it streightens him as to many things. However, I do not
mean to say they have not a right to it. It is very fit they should
have daughters' shares; and I am sure he has always been a very kind,
liberal father to me. Mary does not above half like Henrietta's match.
She never did, you know. But she does not do him justice, nor think
enough about Winthrop. I cannot make her attend to the value of the
property. It is a very fair match, as times go; and I have liked
Charles Hayter all my life, and I shall not leave off now. "

"Such excellent parents as Mr and Mrs Musgrove," exclaimed Anne,
"should be happy in their children's marriages. They do everything to
confer happiness, I am sure. What a blessing to young people to be in
such hands! Your father and mother seem so totally free from all those
ambitious feelings which have led to so much misconduct and misery,
both in young and old. I hope you think Louisa perfectly recovered
now? "

He answered rather hesitatingly, "Yes, I believe I do; very much
recovered; but she is altered; there is no running or jumping about, no
laughing or dancing; it is quite different. If one happens only to
shut the door a little hard, she starts and wriggles like a young
dab-chick in the water; and Benwick sits at her elbow, reading verses,
or whispering to her, all day long. "

Anne could not help laughing. "That cannot be much to your taste, I
know," said she; "but I do believe him to be an excellent young man. "

"To be sure he is. Nobody doubts it; and I hope you do not think I am
so illiberal as to want every man to have the same objects and
pleasures as myself. I have a great value for Benwick; and when one
can but get him to talk, he has plenty to say. His reading has done
him no harm, for he has fought as well as read. He is a brave fellow.
I got more acquainted with him last Monday than ever I did before. We
had a famous set-to at rat-hunting all the morning in my father's great
barns; and he played his part so well that I have liked him the better
ever since. "

Here they were interrupted by the absolute necessity of Charles's
following the others to admire mirrors and china; but Anne had heard
enough to understand the present state of Uppercross, and rejoice in
its happiness; and though she sighed as she rejoiced, her sigh had none
of the ill-will of envy in it. She would certainly have risen to their
blessings if she could, but she did not want to lessen theirs.

The visit passed off altogether in high good humour. Mary was in
excellent spirits, enjoying the gaiety and the change, and so well
satisfied with the journey in her mother-in-law's carriage with four
horses, and with her own complete independence of Camden Place, that
she was exactly in a temper to admire everything as she ought, and
enter most readily into all the superiorities of the house, as they
were detailed to her. She had no demands on her father or sister, and
her consequence was just enough increased by their handsome
drawing-rooms.

Elizabeth was, for a short time, suffering a good deal. She felt that
Mrs Musgrove and all her party ought to be asked to dine with them; but
she could not bear to have the difference of style, the reduction of
servants, which a dinner must betray, witnessed by those who had been
always so inferior to the Elliots of Kellynch. It was a struggle
between propriety and vanity; but vanity got the better, and then
Elizabeth was happy again. These were her internal persuasions: "Old
fashioned notions; country hospitality; we do not profess to give
dinners; few people in Bath do; Lady Alicia never does; did not even
ask her own sister's family, though they were here a month: and I dare
say it would be very inconvenient to Mrs Musgrove; put her quite out of
her way. I am sure she would rather not come; she cannot feel easy
with us. I will ask them all for an evening; that will be much better;
that will be a novelty and a treat. They have not seen two such
drawing rooms before. They will be delighted to come to-morrow
evening. It shall be a regular party, small, but most elegant. " And
this satisfied Elizabeth: and when the invitation was given to the two
present, and promised for the absent, Mary was as completely satisfied.
She was particularly asked to meet Mr Elliot, and be introduced to Lady
Dalrymple and Miss Carteret, who were fortunately already engaged to
come; and she could not have received a more gratifying attention.
Miss Elliot was to have the honour of calling on Mrs Musgrove in the
course of the morning; and Anne walked off with Charles and Mary, to go
and see her and Henrietta directly.

Her plan of sitting with Lady Russell must give way for the present.
They all three called in Rivers Street for a couple of minutes; but
Anne convinced herself that a day's delay of the intended communication
could be of no consequence, and hastened forward to the White Hart, to
see again the friends and companions of the last autumn, with an
eagerness of good-will which many associations contributed to form.

They found Mrs Musgrove and her daughter within, and by themselves, and
Anne had the kindest welcome from each. Henrietta was exactly in that
state of recently-improved views, of fresh-formed happiness, which made
her full of regard and interest for everybody she had ever liked before
at all; and Mrs Musgrove's real affection had been won by her
usefulness when they were in distress. It was a heartiness, and a
warmth, and a sincerity which Anne delighted in the more, from the sad
want of such blessings at home. She was entreated to give them as much
of her time as possible, invited for every day and all day long, or
rather claimed as part of the family; and, in return, she naturally
fell into all her wonted ways of attention and assistance, and on
Charles's leaving them together, was listening to Mrs Musgrove's
history of Louisa, and to Henrietta's of herself, giving opinions on
business, and recommendations to shops; with intervals of every help
which Mary required, from altering her ribbon to settling her accounts;
from finding her keys, and assorting her trinkets, to trying to
convince her that she was not ill-used by anybody; which Mary, well
amused as she generally was, in her station at a window overlooking the
entrance to the Pump Room, could not but have her moments of imagining.

A morning of thorough confusion was to be expected. A large party in
an hotel ensured a quick-changing, unsettled scene. One five minutes
brought a note, the next a parcel; and Anne had not been there half an
hour, when their dining-room, spacious as it was, seemed more than half
filled: a party of steady old friends were seated around Mrs Musgrove,
and Charles came back with Captains Harville and Wentworth. The
appearance of the latter could not be more than the surprise of the
moment. It was impossible for her to have forgotten to feel that this
arrival of their common friends must be soon bringing them together
again. Their last meeting had been most important in opening his
feelings; she had derived from it a delightful conviction; but she
feared from his looks, that the same unfortunate persuasion, which had
hastened him away from the Concert Room, still governed. He did not
seem to want to be near enough for conversation.

She tried to be calm, and leave things to take their course, and tried
to dwell much on this argument of rational dependence:--"Surely, if
there be constant attachment on each side, our hearts must understand
each other ere long. We are not boy and girl, to be captiously
irritable, misled by every moment's inadvertence, and wantonly playing
with our own happiness. " And yet, a few minutes afterwards, she felt
as if their being in company with each other, under their present
circumstances, could only be exposing them to inadvertencies and
misconstructions of the most mischievous kind.

"Anne," cried Mary, still at her window, "there is Mrs Clay, I am sure,
standing under the colonnade, and a gentleman with her. I saw them
turn the corner from Bath Street just now. They seemed deep in talk.
Who is it? Come, and tell me. Good heavens! I recollect. It is Mr
Elliot himself. "

"No," cried Anne, quickly, "it cannot be Mr Elliot, I assure you. He
was to leave Bath at nine this morning, and does not come back till
to-morrow. "

As she spoke, she felt that Captain Wentworth was looking at her, the
consciousness of which vexed and embarrassed her, and made her regret
that she had said so much, simple as it was.

Mary, resenting that she should be supposed not to know her own cousin,
began talking very warmly about the family features, and protesting
still more positively that it was Mr Elliot, calling again upon Anne to
come and look for herself, but Anne did not mean to stir, and tried to
be cool and unconcerned. Her distress returned, however, on perceiving
smiles and intelligent glances pass between two or three of the lady
visitors, as if they believed themselves quite in the secret. It was
evident that the report concerning her had spread, and a short pause
succeeded, which seemed to ensure that it would now spread farther.

"Do come, Anne," cried Mary, "come and look yourself. You will be too
late if you do not make haste. They are parting; they are shaking
hands. He is turning away. Not know Mr Elliot, indeed! You seem to
have forgot all about Lyme. "

To pacify Mary, and perhaps screen her own embarrassment, Anne did move
quietly to the window. She was just in time to ascertain that it
really was Mr Elliot, which she had never believed, before he
disappeared on one side, as Mrs Clay walked quickly off on the other;
and checking the surprise which she could not but feel at such an
appearance of friendly conference between two persons of totally
opposite interest, she calmly said, "Yes, it is Mr Elliot, certainly.
He has changed his hour of going, I suppose, that is all, or I may be
mistaken, I might not attend;" and walked back to her chair,
recomposed, and with the comfortable hope of having acquitted herself
well.

The visitors took their leave; and Charles, having civilly seen them
off, and then made a face at them, and abused them for coming, began
with--

"Well, mother, I have done something for you that you will like. I
have been to the theatre, and secured a box for to-morrow night. A'n't
I a good boy? I know you love a play; and there is room for us all.
It holds nine. I have engaged Captain Wentworth. Anne will not be
sorry to join us, I am sure. We all like a play. Have not I done
well, mother? "

Mrs Musgrove was good humouredly beginning to express her perfect
readiness for the play, if Henrietta and all the others liked it, when
Mary eagerly interrupted her by exclaiming--

"Good heavens, Charles! how can you think of such a thing? Take a box
for to-morrow night! Have you forgot that we are engaged to Camden
Place to-morrow night? and that we were most particularly asked to meet
Lady Dalrymple and her daughter, and Mr Elliot, and all the principal
family connexions, on purpose to be introduced to them? How can you be
so forgetful? "

"Phoo! phoo! " replied Charles, "what's an evening party? Never worth
remembering. Your father might have asked us to dinner, I think, if he
had wanted to see us. You may do as you like, but I shall go to the
play.