No More Learning

He was not allowed to escape, however.
His daughter and Mrs Clay united in hinting that Colonel Wallis's
companion might have as good a figure as Colonel Wallis, and certainly
was not sandy-haired.

"How is Mary looking? " said Sir Walter, in the height of his good
humour. "The last time I saw her she had a red nose, but I hope that
may not happen every day. "

"Oh! no, that must have been quite accidental. In general she has been
in very good health and very good looks since Michaelmas. "

"If I thought it would not tempt her to go out in sharp winds, and grow
coarse, I would send her a new hat and pelisse. "

Anne was considering whether she should venture to suggest that a gown,
or a cap, would not be liable to any such misuse, when a knock at the
door suspended everything. "A knock at the door! and so late! It was
ten o'clock. Could it be Mr Elliot? They knew he was to dine in
Lansdown Crescent. It was possible that he might stop in his way home
to ask them how they did. They could think of no one else. Mrs Clay
decidedly thought it Mr Elliot's knock. " Mrs Clay was right. With all
the state which a butler and foot-boy could give, Mr Elliot was ushered
into the room.

It was the same, the very same man, with no difference but of dress.
Anne drew a little back, while the others received his compliments, and
her sister his apologies for calling at so unusual an hour, but "he
could not be so near without wishing to know that neither she nor her
friend had taken cold the day before," &c. &c; which was all as
politely done, and as politely taken, as possible, but her part must
follow then. Sir Walter talked of his youngest daughter; "Mr Elliot
must give him leave to present him to his youngest daughter" (there was
no occasion for remembering Mary); and Anne, smiling and blushing, very
becomingly shewed to Mr Elliot the pretty features which he had by no
means forgotten, and instantly saw, with amusement at his little start
of surprise, that he had not been at all aware of who she was. He
looked completely astonished, but not more astonished than pleased; his
eyes brightened! and with the most perfect alacrity he welcomed the
relationship, alluded to the past, and entreated to be received as an
acquaintance already. He was quite as good-looking as he had appeared
at Lyme, his countenance improved by speaking, and his manners were so
exactly what they ought to be, so polished, so easy, so particularly
agreeable, that she could compare them in excellence to only one
person's manners. They were not the same, but they were, perhaps,
equally good.

He sat down with them, and improved their conversation very much.
There could be no doubt of his being a sensible man. Ten minutes were
enough to certify that. His tone, his expressions, his choice of
subject, his knowing where to stop; it was all the operation of a
sensible, discerning mind. As soon as he could, he began to talk to
her of Lyme, wanting to compare opinions respecting the place, but
especially wanting to speak of the circumstance of their happening to
be guests in the same inn at the same time; to give his own route,
understand something of hers, and regret that he should have lost such
an opportunity of paying his respects to her. She gave him a short
account of her party and business at Lyme. His regret increased as he
listened. He had spent his whole solitary evening in the room
adjoining theirs; had heard voices, mirth continually; thought they
must be a most delightful set of people, longed to be with them, but
certainly without the smallest suspicion of his possessing the shadow
of a right to introduce himself. If he had but asked who the party
were! The name of Musgrove would have told him enough. "Well, it
would serve to cure him of an absurd practice of never asking a
question at an inn, which he had adopted, when quite a young man, on
the principal of its being very ungenteel to be curious.

"The notions of a young man of one or two and twenty," said he, "as to
what is necessary in manners to make him quite the thing, are more
absurd, I believe, than those of any other set of beings in the world.
The folly of the means they often employ is only to be equalled by the
folly of what they have in view. "

But he must not be addressing his reflections to Anne alone: he knew
it; he was soon diffused again among the others, and it was only at
intervals that he could return to Lyme.

His enquiries, however, produced at length an account of the scene she
had been engaged in there, soon after his leaving the place. Having
alluded to "an accident," he must hear the whole. When he questioned,
Sir Walter and Elizabeth began to question also, but the difference in
their manner of doing it could not be unfelt. She could only compare
Mr Elliot to Lady Russell, in the wish of really comprehending what had
passed, and in the degree of concern for what she must have suffered in
witnessing it.

He staid an hour with them. The elegant little clock on the mantel-piece
had struck "eleven with its silver sounds," and the watchman was
beginning to be heard at a distance telling the same tale, before Mr
Elliot or any of them seemed to feel that he had been there long.

Anne could not have supposed it possible that her first evening in
Camden Place could have passed so well!



Chapter 16


There was one point which Anne, on returning to her family, would have
been more thankful to ascertain even than Mr Elliot's being in love
with Elizabeth, which was, her father's not being in love with Mrs
Clay; and she was very far from easy about it, when she had been at
home a few hours. On going down to breakfast the next morning, she
found there had just been a decent pretence on the lady's side of
meaning to leave them. She could imagine Mrs Clay to have said, that
"now Miss Anne was come, she could not suppose herself at all wanted;"
for Elizabeth was replying in a sort of whisper, "That must not be any
reason, indeed. I assure you I feel it none. She is nothing to me,
compared with you;" and she was in full time to hear her father say,
"My dear madam, this must not be. As yet, you have seen nothing of
Bath. You have been here only to be useful. You must not run away
from us now. You must stay to be acquainted with Mrs Wallis, the
beautiful Mrs Wallis. To your fine mind, I well know the sight of
beauty is a real gratification. "

He spoke and looked so much in earnest, that Anne was not surprised to
see Mrs Clay stealing a glance at Elizabeth and herself. Her
countenance, perhaps, might express some watchfulness; but the praise
of the fine mind did not appear to excite a thought in her sister. The
lady could not but yield to such joint entreaties, and promise to stay.

In the course of the same morning, Anne and her father chancing to be
alone together, he began to compliment her on her improved looks; he
thought her "less thin in her person, in her cheeks; her skin, her
complexion, greatly improved; clearer, fresher. Had she been using any
thing in particular? " "No, nothing. " "Merely Gowland," he supposed.
"No, nothing at all. " "Ha! he was surprised at that;" and added,
"certainly you cannot do better than to continue as you are; you cannot
be better than well; or I should recommend Gowland, the constant use of
Gowland, during the spring months. Mrs Clay has been using it at my
recommendation, and you see what it has done for her. You see how it
has carried away her freckles. "

If Elizabeth could but have heard this! Such personal praise might
have struck her, especially as it did not appear to Anne that the
freckles were at all lessened. But everything must take its chance.
The evil of a marriage would be much diminished, if Elizabeth were also
to marry. As for herself, she might always command a home with Lady
Russell.

Lady Russell's composed mind and polite manners were put to some trial
on this point, in her intercourse in Camden Place. The sight of Mrs
Clay in such favour, and of Anne so overlooked, was a perpetual
provocation to her there; and vexed her as much when she was away, as a
person in Bath who drinks the water, gets all the new publications, and
has a very large acquaintance, has time to be vexed.

As Mr Elliot became known to her, she grew more charitable, or more
indifferent, towards the others. His manners were an immediate
recommendation; and on conversing with him she found the solid so fully
supporting the superficial, that she was at first, as she told Anne,
almost ready to exclaim, "Can this be Mr Elliot? " and could not
seriously picture to herself a more agreeable or estimable man.
Everything united in him; good understanding, correct opinions,
knowledge of the world, and a warm heart. He had strong feelings of
family attachment and family honour, without pride or weakness; he
lived with the liberality of a man of fortune, without display; he
judged for himself in everything essential, without defying public
opinion in any point of worldly decorum. He was steady, observant,
moderate, candid; never run away with by spirits or by selfishness,
which fancied itself strong feeling; and yet, with a sensibility to
what was amiable and lovely, and a value for all the felicities of
domestic life, which characters of fancied enthusiasm and violent
agitation seldom really possess. She was sure that he had not been
happy in marriage. Colonel Wallis said it, and Lady Russell saw it;
but it had been no unhappiness to sour his mind, nor (she began pretty
soon to suspect) to prevent his thinking of a second choice. Her
satisfaction in Mr Elliot outweighed all the plague of Mrs Clay.

It was now some years since Anne had begun to learn that she and her
excellent friend could sometimes think differently; and it did not
surprise her, therefore, that Lady Russell should see nothing
suspicious or inconsistent, nothing to require more motives than
appeared, in Mr Elliot's great desire of a reconciliation. In Lady
Russell's view, it was perfectly natural that Mr Elliot, at a mature
time of life, should feel it a most desirable object, and what would
very generally recommend him among all sensible people, to be on good
terms with the head of his family; the simplest process in the world of
time upon a head naturally clear, and only erring in the heyday of
youth. Anne presumed, however, still to smile about it, and at last to
mention "Elizabeth. " Lady Russell listened, and looked, and made only
this cautious reply:--"Elizabeth! very well; time will explain. "

It was a reference to the future, which Anne, after a little
observation, felt she must submit to. She could determine nothing at
present. In that house Elizabeth must be first; and she was in the
habit of such general observance as "Miss Elliot," that any
particularity of attention seemed almost impossible. Mr Elliot, too,
it must be remembered, had not been a widower seven months. A little
delay on his side might be very excusable. In fact, Anne could never
see the crape round his hat, without fearing that she was the
inexcusable one, in attributing to him such imaginations; for though
his marriage had not been very happy, still it had existed so many
years that she could not comprehend a very rapid recovery from the
awful impression of its being dissolved.

However it might end, he was without any question their pleasantest
acquaintance in Bath: she saw nobody equal to him; and it was a great
indulgence now and then to talk to him about Lyme, which he seemed to
have as lively a wish to see again, and to see more of, as herself.
They went through the particulars of their first meeting a great many
times. He gave her to understand that he had looked at her with some
earnestness. She knew it well; and she remembered another person's
look also.

They did not always think alike. His value for rank and connexion she
perceived was greater than hers. It was not merely complaisance, it
must be a liking to the cause, which made him enter warmly into her
father and sister's solicitudes on a subject which she thought unworthy
to excite them. The Bath paper one morning announced the arrival of
the Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple, and her daughter, the Honourable
Miss Carteret; and all the comfort of No. --, Camden Place, was swept
away for many days; for the Dalrymples (in Anne's opinion, most
unfortunately) were cousins of the Elliots; and the agony was how to
introduce themselves properly.

Anne had never seen her father and sister before in contact with
nobility, and she must acknowledge herself disappointed. She had hoped
better things from their high ideas of their own situation in life, and
was reduced to form a wish which she had never foreseen; a wish that
they had more pride; for "our cousins Lady Dalrymple and Miss
Carteret;" "our cousins, the Dalrymples," sounded in her ears all day
long.

Sir Walter had once been in company with the late viscount, but had
never seen any of the rest of the family; and the difficulties of the
case arose from there having been a suspension of all intercourse by
letters of ceremony, ever since the death of that said late viscount,
when, in consequence of a dangerous illness of Sir Walter's at the same
time, there had been an unlucky omission at Kellynch. No letter of
condolence had been sent to Ireland. The neglect had been visited on
the head of the sinner; for when poor Lady Elliot died herself, no
letter of condolence was received at Kellynch, and, consequently, there
was but too much reason to apprehend that the Dalrymples considered the
relationship as closed. How to have this anxious business set to
rights, and be admitted as cousins again, was the question: and it was
a question which, in a more rational manner, neither Lady Russell nor
Mr Elliot thought unimportant. "Family connexions were always worth
preserving, good company always worth seeking; Lady Dalrymple had taken
a house, for three months, in Laura Place, and would be living in
style. She had been at Bath the year before, and Lady Russell had
heard her spoken of as a charming woman. It was very desirable that
the connexion should be renewed, if it could be done, without any
compromise of propriety on the side of the Elliots. "

Sir Walter, however, would choose his own means, and at last wrote a
very fine letter of ample explanation, regret, and entreaty, to his
right honourable cousin. Neither Lady Russell nor Mr Elliot could
admire the letter; but it did all that was wanted, in bringing three
lines of scrawl from the Dowager Viscountess. "She was very much
honoured, and should be happy in their acquaintance. " The toils of the
business were over, the sweets began. They visited in Laura Place,
they had the cards of Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple, and the Honourable
Miss Carteret, to be arranged wherever they might be most visible: and
"Our cousins in Laura Place,"--"Our cousin, Lady Dalrymple and Miss
Carteret," were talked of to everybody.

Anne was ashamed. Had Lady Dalrymple and her daughter even been very
agreeable, she would still have been ashamed of the agitation they
created, but they were nothing. There was no superiority of manner,
accomplishment, or understanding. Lady Dalrymple had acquired the name
of "a charming woman," because she had a smile and a civil answer for
everybody. Miss Carteret, with still less to say, was so plain and so
awkward, that she would never have been tolerated in Camden Place but
for her birth.

Lady Russell confessed she had expected something better; but yet "it
was an acquaintance worth having;" and when Anne ventured to speak her
opinion of them to Mr Elliot, he agreed to their being nothing in
themselves, but still maintained that, as a family connexion, as good
company, as those who would collect good company around them, they had
their value. Anne smiled and said,

"My idea of good company, Mr Elliot, is the company of clever,
well-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation; that is
what I call good company. "

"You are mistaken," said he gently, "that is not good company; that is
the best. Good company requires only birth, education, and manners,
and with regard to education is not very nice. Birth and good manners
are essential; but a little learning is by no means a dangerous thing
in good company; on the contrary, it will do very well. My cousin Anne
shakes her head. She is not satisfied. She is fastidious. My dear
cousin" (sitting down by her), "you have a better right to be
fastidious than almost any other woman I know; but will it answer?
Will it make you happy? Will it not be wiser to accept the society of
those good ladies in Laura Place, and enjoy all the advantages of the
connexion as far as possible? You may depend upon it, that they will
move in the first set in Bath this winter, and as rank is rank, your
being known to be related to them will have its use in fixing your
family (our family let me say) in that degree of consideration which we
must all wish for. "

"Yes," sighed Anne, "we shall, indeed, be known to be related to them! "
then recollecting herself, and not wishing to be answered, she added,
"I certainly do think there has been by far too much trouble taken to
procure the acquaintance. I suppose" (smiling) "I have more pride than
any of you; but I confess it does vex me, that we should be so
solicitous to have the relationship acknowledged, which we may be very
sure is a matter of perfect indifference to them. "

"Pardon me, dear cousin, you are unjust in your own claims. In London,
perhaps, in your present quiet style of living, it might be as you say:
but in Bath; Sir Walter Elliot and his family will always be worth
knowing: always acceptable as acquaintance. "

"Well," said Anne, "I certainly am proud, too proud to enjoy a welcome
which depends so entirely upon place. "

"I love your indignation," said he; "it is very natural. But here you
are in Bath, and the object is to be established here with all the
credit and dignity which ought to belong to Sir Walter Elliot. You
talk of being proud; I am called proud, I know, and I shall not wish to
believe myself otherwise; for our pride, if investigated, would have
the same object, I have no doubt, though the kind may seem a little
different. In one point, I am sure, my dear cousin," (he continued,
speaking lower, though there was no one else in the room) "in one
point, I am sure, we must feel alike. We must feel that every addition
to your father's society, among his equals or superiors, may be of use
in diverting his thoughts from those who are beneath him. "

He looked, as he spoke, to the seat which Mrs Clay had been lately
occupying: a sufficient explanation of what he particularly meant; and
though Anne could not believe in their having the same sort of pride,
she was pleased with him for not liking Mrs Clay; and her conscience
admitted that his wishing to promote her father's getting great
acquaintance was more than excusable in the view of defeating her.



Chapter 17


While Sir Walter and Elizabeth were assiduously pushing their good
fortune in Laura Place, Anne was renewing an acquaintance of a very
different description.

She had called on her former governess, and had heard from her of there
being an old school-fellow in Bath, who had the two strong claims on
her attention of past kindness and present suffering. Miss Hamilton,
now Mrs Smith, had shewn her kindness in one of those periods of her
life when it had been most valuable. Anne had gone unhappy to school,
grieving for the loss of a mother whom she had dearly loved, feeling
her separation from home, and suffering as a girl of fourteen, of
strong sensibility and not high spirits, must suffer at such a time;
and Miss Hamilton, three years older than herself, but still from the
want of near relations and a settled home, remaining another year at
school, had been useful and good to her in a way which had considerably
lessened her misery, and could never be remembered with indifference.

Miss Hamilton had left school, had married not long afterwards, was
said to have married a man of fortune, and this was all that Anne had
known of her, till now that their governess's account brought her
situation forward in a more decided but very different form.

She was a widow and poor. Her husband had been extravagant; and at his
death, about two years before, had left his affairs dreadfully
involved. She had had difficulties of every sort to contend with, and
in addition to these distresses had been afflicted with a severe
rheumatic fever, which, finally settling in her legs, had made her for
the present a cripple. She had come to Bath on that account, and was
now in lodgings near the hot baths, living in a very humble way, unable
even to afford herself the comfort of a servant, and of course almost
excluded from society.

Their mutual friend answered for the satisfaction which a visit from
Miss Elliot would give Mrs Smith, and Anne therefore lost no time in
going. She mentioned nothing of what she had heard, or what she
intended, at home. It would excite no proper interest there. She only
consulted Lady Russell, who entered thoroughly into her sentiments, and
was most happy to convey her as near to Mrs Smith's lodgings in
Westgate Buildings, as Anne chose to be taken.

The visit was paid, their acquaintance re-established, their interest
in each other more than re-kindled. The first ten minutes had its
awkwardness and its emotion. Twelve years were gone since they had
parted, and each presented a somewhat different person from what the
other had imagined. Twelve years had changed Anne from the blooming,
silent, unformed girl of fifteen, to the elegant little woman of
seven-and-twenty, with every beauty except bloom, and with manners as
consciously right as they were invariably gentle; and twelve years had
transformed the fine-looking, well-grown Miss Hamilton, in all the glow
of health and confidence of superiority, into a poor, infirm, helpless
widow, receiving the visit of her former protegee as a favour; but all
that was uncomfortable in the meeting had soon passed away, and left
only the interesting charm of remembering former partialities and
talking over old times.

Anne found in Mrs Smith the good sense and agreeable manners which she
had almost ventured to depend on, and a disposition to converse and be
cheerful beyond her expectation. Neither the dissipations of the
past--and she had lived very much in the world--nor the restrictions of
the present, neither sickness nor sorrow seemed to have closed her
heart or ruined her spirits.

In the course of a second visit she talked with great openness, and
Anne's astonishment increased. She could scarcely imagine a more
cheerless situation in itself than Mrs Smith's. She had been very fond
of her husband: she had buried him. She had been used to affluence:
it was gone. She had no child to connect her with life and happiness
again, no relations to assist in the arrangement of perplexed affairs,
no health to make all the rest supportable. Her accommodations were
limited to a noisy parlour, and a dark bedroom behind, with no
possibility of moving from one to the other without assistance, which
there was only one servant in the house to afford, and she never
quitted the house but to be conveyed into the warm bath. Yet, in spite
of all this, Anne had reason to believe that she had moments only of
languor and depression, to hours of occupation and enjoyment. How
could it be? She watched, observed, reflected, and finally determined
that this was not a case of fortitude or of resignation only. A
submissive spirit might be patient, a strong understanding would supply
resolution, but here was something more; here was that elasticity of
mind, that disposition to be comforted, that power of turning readily
from evil to good, and of finding employment which carried her out of
herself, which was from nature alone. It was the choicest gift of
Heaven; and Anne viewed her friend as one of those instances in which,
by a merciful appointment, it seems designed to counterbalance almost
every other want.

There had been a time, Mrs Smith told her, when her spirits had nearly
failed. She could not call herself an invalid now, compared with her
state on first reaching Bath. Then she had, indeed, been a pitiable
object; for she had caught cold on the journey, and had hardly taken
possession of her lodgings before she was again confined to her bed and
suffering under severe and constant pain; and all this among strangers,
with the absolute necessity of having a regular nurse, and finances at
that moment particularly unfit to meet any extraordinary expense. She
had weathered it, however, and could truly say that it had done her
good. It had increased her comforts by making her feel herself to be
in good hands. She had seen too much of the world, to expect sudden or
disinterested attachment anywhere, but her illness had proved to her
that her landlady had a character to preserve, and would not use her
ill; and she had been particularly fortunate in her nurse, as a sister
of her landlady, a nurse by profession, and who had always a home in
that house when unemployed, chanced to be at liberty just in time to
attend her. "And she," said Mrs Smith, "besides nursing me most
admirably, has really proved an invaluable acquaintance. As soon as I
could use my hands she taught me to knit, which has been a great
amusement; and she put me in the way of making these little
thread-cases, pin-cushions and card-racks, which you always find me so
busy about, and which supply me with the means of doing a little good
to one or two very poor families in this neighbourhood. She had a
large acquaintance, of course professionally, among those who can
afford to buy, and she disposes of my merchandise. She always takes
the right time for applying. Everybody's heart is open, you know, when
they have recently escaped from severe pain, or are recovering the
blessing of health, and Nurse Rooke thoroughly understands when to
speak. She is a shrewd, intelligent, sensible woman. Hers is a line
for seeing human nature; and she has a fund of good sense and
observation, which, as a companion, make her infinitely superior to
thousands of those who having only received 'the best education in the
world,' know nothing worth attending to. Call it gossip, if you will,
but when Nurse Rooke has half an hour's leisure to bestow on me, she is
sure to have something to relate that is entertaining and profitable:
something that makes one know one's species better. One likes to hear
what is going on, to be au fait as to the newest modes of being
trifling and silly. To me, who live so much alone, her conversation, I
assure you, is a treat. "

Anne, far from wishing to cavil at the pleasure, replied, "I can easily
believe it. Women of that class have great opportunities, and if they
are intelligent may be well worth listening to. Such varieties of
human nature as they are in the habit of witnessing! And it is not
merely in its follies, that they are well read; for they see it
occasionally under every circumstance that can be most interesting or
affecting.
What instances must pass before them of ardent,
disinterested, self-denying attachment, of heroism, fortitude,
patience, resignation: of all the conflicts and all the sacrifices
that ennoble us most. A sick chamber may often furnish the worth of
volumes. "

"Yes," said Mrs Smith more doubtingly, "sometimes it may, though I fear
its lessons are not often in the elevated style you describe. Here and
there, human nature may be great in times of trial; but generally
speaking, it is its weakness and not its strength that appears in a
sick chamber: it is selfishness and impatience rather than generosity
and fortitude, that one hears of. There is so little real friendship
in the world! and unfortunately" (speaking low and tremulously) "there
are so many who forget to think seriously till it is almost too late. "

Anne saw the misery of such feelings. The husband had not been what he
ought, and the wife had been led among that part of mankind which made
her think worse of the world than she hoped it deserved. It was but a
passing emotion however with Mrs Smith; she shook it off, and soon
added in a different tone--

"I do not suppose the situation my friend Mrs Rooke is in at present,
will furnish much either to interest or edify me. She is only nursing
Mrs Wallis of Marlborough Buildings; a mere pretty, silly, expensive,
fashionable woman, I believe; and of course will have nothing to report
but of lace and finery. I mean to make my profit of Mrs Wallis,
however. She has plenty of money, and I intend she shall buy all the
high-priced things I have in hand now. "

Anne had called several times on her friend, before the existence of
such a person was known in Camden Place. At last, it became necessary
to speak of her. Sir Walter, Elizabeth and Mrs Clay, returned one
morning from Laura Place, with a sudden invitation from Lady Dalrymple
for the same evening, and Anne was already engaged, to spend that
evening in Westgate Buildings. She was not sorry for the excuse. They
were only asked, she was sure, because Lady Dalrymple being kept at
home by a bad cold, was glad to make use of the relationship which had
been so pressed on her; and she declined on her own account with great
alacrity--"She was engaged to spend the evening with an old
schoolfellow. " They were not much interested in anything relative to
Anne; but still there were questions enough asked, to make it
understood what this old schoolfellow was; and Elizabeth was
disdainful, and Sir Walter severe.

"Westgate Buildings! " said he, "and who is Miss Anne Elliot to be
visiting in Westgate Buildings? A Mrs Smith. A widow Mrs Smith; and
who was her husband? One of five thousand Mr Smiths whose names are to
be met with everywhere. And what is her attraction? That she is old
and sickly. Upon my word, Miss Anne Elliot, you have the most
extraordinary taste! Everything that revolts other people, low
company, paltry rooms, foul air, disgusting associations are inviting
to you. But surely you may put off this old lady till to-morrow: she
is not so near her end, I presume, but that she may hope to see another
day. What is her age? Forty? "

"No, sir, she is not one-and-thirty; but I do not think I can put off
my engagement, because it is the only evening for some time which will
at once suit her and myself. She goes into the warm bath to-morrow,
and for the rest of the week, you know, we are engaged. "

"But what does Lady Russell think of this acquaintance? " asked
Elizabeth.

"She sees nothing to blame in it," replied Anne; "on the contrary, she
approves it, and has generally taken me when I have called on Mrs
Smith. "

"Westgate Buildings must have been rather surprised by the appearance
of a carriage drawn up near its pavement," observed Sir Walter. "Sir
Henry Russell's widow, indeed, has no honours to distinguish her arms,
but still it is a handsome equipage, and no doubt is well known to
convey a Miss Elliot. A widow Mrs Smith lodging in Westgate Buildings!
A poor widow barely able to live, between thirty and forty; a mere Mrs
Smith, an every-day Mrs Smith, of all people and all names in the
world, to be the chosen friend of Miss Anne Elliot, and to be preferred
by her to her own family connections among the nobility of England and
Ireland! Mrs Smith! Such a name! "

Mrs Clay, who had been present while all this passed, now thought it
advisable to leave the room, and Anne could have said much, and did
long to say a little in defence of her friend's not very dissimilar
claims to theirs, but her sense of personal respect to her father
prevented her. She made no reply. She left it to himself to
recollect, that Mrs Smith was not the only widow in Bath between thirty
and forty, with little to live on, and no surname of dignity.

Anne kept her appointment; the others kept theirs, and of course she
heard the next morning that they had had a delightful evening. She had
been the only one of the set absent, for Sir Walter and Elizabeth had
not only been quite at her ladyship's service themselves, but had
actually been happy to be employed by her in collecting others, and had
been at the trouble of inviting both Lady Russell and Mr Elliot; and Mr
Elliot had made a point of leaving Colonel Wallis early, and Lady
Russell had fresh arranged all her evening engagements in order to wait
on her. Anne had the whole history of all that such an evening could
supply from Lady Russell. To her, its greatest interest must be, in
having been very much talked of between her friend and Mr Elliot; in
having been wished for, regretted, and at the same time honoured for
staying away in such a cause. Her kind, compassionate visits to this
old schoolfellow, sick and reduced, seemed to have quite delighted Mr
Elliot. He thought her a most extraordinary young woman; in her
temper, manners, mind, a model of female excellence. He could meet
even Lady Russell in a discussion of her merits; and Anne could not be
given to understand so much by her friend, could not know herself to be
so highly rated by a sensible man, without many of those agreeable
sensations which her friend meant to create.

Lady Russell was now perfectly decided in her opinion of Mr Elliot.
She was as much convinced of his meaning to gain Anne in time as of his
deserving her, and was beginning to calculate the number of weeks which
would free him from all the remaining restraints of widowhood, and
leave him at liberty to exert his most open powers of pleasing. She
would not speak to Anne with half the certainty she felt on the
subject, she would venture on little more than hints of what might be
hereafter, of a possible attachment on his side, of the desirableness
of the alliance, supposing such attachment to be real and returned.
Anne heard her, and made no violent exclamations; she only smiled,
blushed, and gently shook her head.

"I am no match-maker, as you well know," said Lady Russell, "being much
too well aware of the uncertainty of all human events and calculations.
I only mean that if Mr Elliot should some time hence pay his addresses
to you, and if you should be disposed to accept him, I think there
would be every possibility of your being happy together. A most
suitable connection everybody must consider it, but I think it might be
a very happy one. "

"Mr Elliot is an exceedingly agreeable man, and in many respects I
think highly of him," said Anne; "but we should not suit. "

Lady Russell let this pass, and only said in rejoinder, "I own that to
be able to regard you as the future mistress of Kellynch, the future
Lady Elliot, to look forward and see you occupying your dear mother's
place, succeeding to all her rights, and all her popularity, as well as
to all her virtues, would be the highest possible gratification to me.
You are your mother's self in countenance and disposition; and if I
might be allowed to fancy you such as she was, in situation and name,
and home, presiding and blessing in the same spot, and only superior to
her in being more highly valued! My dearest Anne, it would give me
more delight than is often felt at my time of life! "

Anne was obliged to turn away, to rise, to walk to a distant table,
and, leaning there in pretended employment, try to subdue the feelings
this picture excited. For a few moments her imagination and her heart
were bewitched. The idea of becoming what her mother had been; of
having the precious name of "Lady Elliot" first revived in herself; of
being restored to Kellynch, calling it her home again, her home for
ever, was a charm which she could not immediately resist. Lady Russell
said not another word, willing to leave the matter to its own
operation; and believing that, could Mr Elliot at that moment with
propriety have spoken for himself! --she believed, in short, what Anne
did not believe. The same image of Mr Elliot speaking for himself
brought Anne to composure again. The charm of Kellynch and of "Lady
Elliot" all faded away. She never could accept him. And it was not
only that her feelings were still adverse to any man save one; her
judgement, on a serious consideration of the possibilities of such a
case was against Mr Elliot.

Though they had now been acquainted a month, she could not be satisfied
that she really knew his character. That he was a sensible man, an
agreeable man, that he talked well, professed good opinions, seemed to
judge properly and as a man of principle, this was all clear enough.
He certainly knew what was right, nor could she fix on any one article
of moral duty evidently transgressed; but yet she would have been
afraid to answer for his conduct. She distrusted the past, if not the
present. The names which occasionally dropt of former associates, the
allusions to former practices and pursuits, suggested suspicions not
favourable of what he had been. She saw that there had been bad
habits; that Sunday travelling had been a common thing; that there had
been a period of his life (and probably not a short one) when he had
been, at least, careless in all serious matters; and, though he might
now think very differently, who could answer for the true sentiments of
a clever, cautious man, grown old enough to appreciate a fair
character? How could it ever be ascertained that his mind was truly
cleansed?

Mr Elliot was rational, discreet, polished, but he was not open. There
was never any burst of feeling, any warmth of indignation or delight,
at the evil or good of others. This, to Anne, was a decided
imperfection. Her early impressions were incurable. She prized the
frank, the open-hearted, the eager character beyond all others. Warmth
and enthusiasm did captivate her still. She felt that she could so
much more depend upon the sincerity of those who sometimes looked or
said a careless or a hasty thing, than of those whose presence of mind
never varied, whose tongue never slipped.

Mr Elliot was too generally agreeable. Various as were the tempers in
her father's house, he pleased them all. He endured too well, stood
too well with every body. He had spoken to her with some degree of
openness of Mrs Clay; had appeared completely to see what Mrs Clay was
about, and to hold her in contempt; and yet Mrs Clay found him as
agreeable as any body.

Lady Russell saw either less or more than her young friend, for she saw
nothing to excite distrust. She could not imagine a man more exactly
what he ought to be than Mr Elliot; nor did she ever enjoy a sweeter
feeling than the hope of seeing him receive the hand of her beloved
Anne in Kellynch church, in the course of the following autumn.



Chapter 18


It was the beginning of February; and Anne, having been a month in
Bath, was growing very eager for news from Uppercross and Lyme. She
wanted to hear much more than Mary had communicated. It was three
weeks since she had heard at all. She only knew that Henrietta was at
home again; and that Louisa, though considered to be recovering fast,
was still in Lyme; and she was thinking of them all very intently one
evening, when a thicker letter than usual from Mary was delivered to
her; and, to quicken the pleasure and surprise, with Admiral and Mrs
Croft's compliments.

The Crofts must be in Bath! A circumstance to interest her. They were
people whom her heart turned to very naturally.

"What is this? " cried Sir Walter. "The Crofts have arrived in Bath?
The Crofts who rent Kellynch? What have they brought you? "

"A letter from Uppercross Cottage, Sir. "

"Oh! those letters are convenient passports. They secure an
introduction. I should have visited Admiral Croft, however, at any
rate. I know what is due to my tenant. "

Anne could listen no longer; she could not even have told how the poor
Admiral's complexion escaped; her letter engrossed her. It had been
begun several days back.


"February 1st.

"My dear Anne,--I make no apology for my silence, because I know how
little people think of letters in such a place as Bath. You must be a
great deal too happy to care for Uppercross, which, as you well know,
affords little to write about. We have had a very dull Christmas; Mr
and Mrs Musgrove have not had one dinner party all the holidays. I do
not reckon the Hayters as anybody. The holidays, however, are over at
last: I believe no children ever had such long ones. I am sure I had
not. The house was cleared yesterday, except of the little Harvilles;
but you will be surprised to hear they have never gone home. Mrs
Harville must be an odd mother to part with them so long. I do not
understand it. They are not at all nice children, in my opinion; but
Mrs Musgrove seems to like them quite as well, if not better, than her
grandchildren. What dreadful weather we have had! It may not be felt
in Bath, with your nice pavements; but in the country it is of some
consequence. I have not had a creature call on me since the second
week in January, except Charles Hayter, who had been calling much
oftener than was welcome. Between ourselves, I think it a great pity
Henrietta did not remain at Lyme as long as Louisa; it would have kept
her a little out of his way. The carriage is gone to-day, to bring
Louisa and the Harvilles to-morrow. We are not asked to dine with
them, however, till the day after, Mrs Musgrove is so afraid of her
being fatigued by the journey, which is not very likely, considering
the care that will be taken of her; and it would be much more
convenient to me to dine there to-morrow. I am glad you find Mr Elliot
so agreeable, and wish I could be acquainted with him too; but I have
my usual luck: I am always out of the way when any thing desirable is
going on; always the last of my family to be noticed. What an immense
time Mrs Clay has been staying with Elizabeth! Does she never mean to
go away? But perhaps if she were to leave the room vacant, we might
not be invited. Let me know what you think of this. I do not expect
my children to be asked, you know. I can leave them at the Great House
very well, for a month or six weeks. I have this moment heard that the
Crofts are going to Bath almost immediately; they think the Admiral
gouty. Charles heard it quite by chance; they have not had the
civility to give me any notice, or of offering to take anything. I do
not think they improve at all as neighbours. We see nothing of them,
and this is really an instance of gross inattention. Charles joins me
in love, and everything proper. Yours affectionately,

"Mary M---.

"I am sorry to say that I am very far from well; and Jemima has just
told me that the butcher says there is a bad sore-throat very much
about. I dare say I shall catch it; and my sore-throats, you know, are
always worse than anybody's. "


So ended the first part, which had been afterwards put into an
envelope, containing nearly as much more.


"I kept my letter open, that I might send you word how Louisa bore her
journey, and now I am extremely glad I did, having a great deal to add.
In the first place, I had a note from Mrs Croft yesterday, offering to
convey anything to you; a very kind, friendly note indeed, addressed to
me, just as it ought; I shall therefore be able to make my letter as
long as I like. The Admiral does not seem very ill, and I sincerely
hope Bath will do him all the good he wants. I shall be truly glad to
have them back again. Our neighbourhood cannot spare such a pleasant
family. But now for Louisa. I have something to communicate that will
astonish you not a little. She and the Harvilles came on Tuesday very
safely, and in the evening we went to ask her how she did, when we were
rather surprised not to find Captain Benwick of the party, for he had
been invited as well as the Harvilles; and what do you think was the
reason? Neither more nor less than his being in love with Louisa, and
not choosing to venture to Uppercross till he had had an answer from Mr
Musgrove; for it was all settled between him and her before she came
away, and he had written to her father by Captain Harville. True, upon
my honour! Are not you astonished? I shall be surprised at least if
you ever received a hint of it, for I never did. Mrs Musgrove protests
solemnly that she knew nothing of the matter. We are all very well
pleased, however, for though it is not equal to her marrying Captain
Wentworth, it is infinitely better than Charles Hayter; and Mr Musgrove
has written his consent, and Captain Benwick is expected to-day. Mrs
Harville says her husband feels a good deal on his poor sister's
account; but, however, Louisa is a great favourite with both. Indeed,
Mrs Harville and I quite agree that we love her the better for having
nursed her. Charles wonders what Captain Wentworth will say; but if
you remember, I never thought him attached to Louisa; I never could see
anything of it. And this is the end, you see, of Captain Benwick's
being supposed to be an admirer of yours. How Charles could take such
a thing into his head was always incomprehensible to me. I hope he
will be more agreeable now. Certainly not a great match for Louisa
Musgrove, but a million times better than marrying among the Hayters. "


Mary need not have feared her sister's being in any degree prepared for
the news. She had never in her life been more astonished. Captain
Benwick and Louisa Musgrove! It was almost too wonderful for belief,
and it was with the greatest effort that she could remain in the room,
preserve an air of calmness, and answer the common questions of the
moment. Happily for her, they were not many. Sir Walter wanted to
know whether the Crofts travelled with four horses, and whether they
were likely to be situated in such a part of Bath as it might suit Miss
Elliot and himself to visit in; but had little curiosity beyond.

"How is Mary? " said Elizabeth; and without waiting for an answer, "And
pray what brings the Crofts to Bath? "

"They come on the Admiral's account. He is thought to be gouty. "

"Gout and decrepitude! " said Sir Walter. "Poor old gentleman. "

"Have they any acquaintance here? " asked Elizabeth.

"I do not know; but I can hardly suppose that, at Admiral Croft's time
of life, and in his profession, he should not have many acquaintance in
such a place as this. "

"I suspect," said Sir Walter coolly, "that Admiral Croft will be best
known in Bath as the renter of Kellynch Hall. Elizabeth, may we
venture to present him and his wife in Laura Place? "

"Oh, no! I think not. Situated as we are with Lady Dalrymple, cousins,
we ought to be very careful not to embarrass her with acquaintance she
might not approve. If we were not related, it would not signify; but
as cousins, she would feel scrupulous as to any proposal of ours. We
had better leave the Crofts to find their own level. There are several
odd-looking men walking about here, who, I am told, are sailors. The
Crofts will associate with them. "

This was Sir Walter and Elizabeth's share of interest in the letter;
when Mrs Clay had paid her tribute of more decent attention, in an
enquiry after Mrs Charles Musgrove, and her fine little boys, Anne was
at liberty.

In her own room, she tried to comprehend it. Well might Charles wonder
how Captain Wentworth would feel! Perhaps he had quitted the field,
had given Louisa up, had ceased to love, had found he did not love her.
She could not endure the idea of treachery or levity, or anything akin
to ill usage between him and his friend. She could not endure that
such a friendship as theirs should be severed unfairly.

Captain Benwick and Louisa Musgrove! The high-spirited, joyous-talking
Louisa Musgrove, and the dejected, thinking, feeling, reading, Captain
Benwick, seemed each of them everything that would not suit the other.
Their minds most dissimilar! Where could have been the attraction?
The answer soon presented itself.