No More Learning

Captain Wentworth now hurried off to get everything ready on his part,
and to be soon followed by the two ladies. When the plan was made
known to Mary, however, there was an end of all peace in it. She was
so wretched and so vehement, complained so much of injustice in being
expected to go away instead of Anne; Anne, who was nothing to Louisa,
while she was her sister, and had the best right to stay in Henrietta's
stead! Why was not she to be as useful as Anne? And to go home
without Charles, too, without her husband! No, it was too unkind. And
in short, she said more than her husband could long withstand, and as
none of the others could oppose when he gave way, there was no help for
it; the change of Mary for Anne was inevitable.

Anne had never submitted more reluctantly to the jealous and
ill-judging claims of Mary; but so it must be, and they set off for the
town, Charles taking care of his sister, and Captain Benwick attending
to her. She gave a moment's recollection, as they hurried along, to
the little circumstances which the same spots had witnessed earlier in
the morning. There she had listened to Henrietta's schemes for Dr
Shirley's leaving Uppercross; farther on, she had first seen Mr Elliot;
a moment seemed all that could now be given to any one but Louisa, or
those who were wrapt up in her welfare.

Captain Benwick was most considerately attentive to her; and, united as
they all seemed by the distress of the day, she felt an increasing
degree of good-will towards him, and a pleasure even in thinking that
it might, perhaps, be the occasion of continuing their acquaintance.

Captain Wentworth was on the watch for them, and a chaise and four in
waiting, stationed for their convenience in the lowest part of the
street; but his evident surprise and vexation at the substitution of
one sister for the other, the change in his countenance, the
astonishment, the expressions begun and suppressed, with which Charles
was listened to, made but a mortifying reception of Anne; or must at
least convince her that she was valued only as she could be useful to
Louisa.

She endeavoured to be composed, and to be just. Without emulating the
feelings of an Emma towards her Henry, she would have attended on
Louisa with a zeal above the common claims of regard, for his sake; and
she hoped he would not long be so unjust as to suppose she would shrink
unnecessarily from the office of a friend.

In the meanwhile she was in the carriage. He had handed them both in,
and placed himself between them; and in this manner, under these
circumstances, full of astonishment and emotion to Anne, she quitted
Lyme. How the long stage would pass; how it was to affect their
manners; what was to be their sort of intercourse, she could not
foresee. It was all quite natural, however. He was devoted to
Henrietta; always turning towards her; and when he spoke at all, always
with the view of supporting her hopes and raising her spirits. In
general, his voice and manner were studiously calm. To spare Henrietta
from agitation seemed the governing principle. Once only, when she had
been grieving over the last ill-judged, ill-fated walk to the Cobb,
bitterly lamenting that it ever had been thought of, he burst forth, as
if wholly overcome--

"Don't talk of it, don't talk of it," he cried. "Oh God! that I had
not given way to her at the fatal moment! Had I done as I ought! But
so eager and so resolute! Dear, sweet Louisa! "

Anne wondered whether it ever occurred to him now, to question the
justness of his own previous opinion as to the universal felicity and
advantage of firmness of character; and whether it might not strike him
that, like all other qualities of the mind, it should have its
proportions and limits. She thought it could scarcely escape him to
feel that a persuadable temper might sometimes be as much in favour of
happiness as a very resolute character.

They got on fast. Anne was astonished to recognise the same hills and
the same objects so soon. Their actual speed, heightened by some dread
of the conclusion, made the road appear but half as long as on the day
before. It was growing quite dusk, however, before they were in the
neighbourhood of Uppercross, and there had been total silence among
them for some time, Henrietta leaning back in the corner, with a shawl
over her face, giving the hope of her having cried herself to sleep;
when, as they were going up their last hill, Anne found herself all at
once addressed by Captain Wentworth. In a low, cautious voice, he
said:--

"I have been considering what we had best do. She must not appear at
first. She could not stand it. I have been thinking whether you had
not better remain in the carriage with her, while I go in and break it
to Mr and Mrs Musgrove. Do you think this is a good plan? "

She did: he was satisfied, and said no more. But the remembrance of
the appeal remained a pleasure to her, as a proof of friendship, and of
deference for her judgement, a great pleasure; and when it became a
sort of parting proof, its value did not lessen.

When the distressing communication at Uppercross was over, and he had
seen the father and mother quite as composed as could be hoped, and the
daughter all the better for being with them, he announced his intention
of returning in the same carriage to Lyme; and when the horses were
baited, he was off.

(End of volume one. )



Chapter 13


The remainder of Anne's time at Uppercross, comprehending only two
days, was spent entirely at the Mansion House; and she had the
satisfaction of knowing herself extremely useful there, both as an
immediate companion, and as assisting in all those arrangements for the
future, which, in Mr and Mrs Musgrove's distressed state of spirits,
would have been difficulties.

They had an early account from Lyme the next morning. Louisa was much
the same. No symptoms worse than before had appeared. Charles came a
few hours afterwards, to bring a later and more particular account. He
was tolerably cheerful. A speedy cure must not be hoped, but
everything was going on as well as the nature of the case admitted. In
speaking of the Harvilles, he seemed unable to satisfy his own sense of
their kindness, especially of Mrs Harville's exertions as a nurse.
"She really left nothing for Mary to do. He and Mary had been
persuaded to go early to their inn last night. Mary had been
hysterical again this morning. When he came away, she was going to
walk out with Captain Benwick, which, he hoped, would do her good. He
almost wished she had been prevailed on to come home the day before;
but the truth was, that Mrs Harville left nothing for anybody to do. "

Charles was to return to Lyme the same afternoon, and his father had at
first half a mind to go with him, but the ladies could not consent. It
would be going only to multiply trouble to the others, and increase his
own distress; and a much better scheme followed and was acted upon. A
chaise was sent for from Crewkherne, and Charles conveyed back a far
more useful person in the old nursery-maid of the family, one who
having brought up all the children, and seen the very last, the
lingering and long-petted Master Harry, sent to school after his
brothers, was now living in her deserted nursery to mend stockings and
dress all the blains and bruises she could get near her, and who,
consequently, was only too happy in being allowed to go and help nurse
dear Miss Louisa. Vague wishes of getting Sarah thither, had occurred
before to Mrs Musgrove and Henrietta; but without Anne, it would hardly
have been resolved on, and found practicable so soon.

They were indebted, the next day, to Charles Hayter, for all the minute
knowledge of Louisa, which it was so essential to obtain every
twenty-four hours. He made it his business to go to Lyme, and his
account was still encouraging. The intervals of sense and
consciousness were believed to be stronger. Every report agreed in
Captain Wentworth's appearing fixed in Lyme.

Anne was to leave them on the morrow, an event which they all dreaded.
"What should they do without her? They were wretched comforters for
one another. " And so much was said in this way, that Anne thought she
could not do better than impart among them the general inclination to
which she was privy, and persuaded them all to go to Lyme at once. She
had little difficulty; it was soon determined that they would go; go
to-morrow, fix themselves at the inn, or get into lodgings, as it
suited, and there remain till dear Louisa could be moved. They must be
taking off some trouble from the good people she was with; they might
at least relieve Mrs Harville from the care of her own children; and in
short, they were so happy in the decision, that Anne was delighted with
what she had done, and felt that she could not spend her last morning
at Uppercross better than in assisting their preparations, and sending
them off at an early hour, though her being left to the solitary range
of the house was the consequence.

She was the last, excepting the little boys at the cottage, she was the
very last, the only remaining one of all that had filled and animated
both houses, of all that had given Uppercross its cheerful character.
A few days had made a change indeed!

If Louisa recovered, it would all be well again. More than former
happiness would be restored. There could not be a doubt, to her mind
there was none, of what would follow her recovery. A few months hence,
and the room now so deserted, occupied but by her silent, pensive self,
might be filled again with all that was happy and gay, all that was
glowing and bright in prosperous love, all that was most unlike Anne
Elliot!

An hour's complete leisure for such reflections as these, on a dark
November day, a small thick rain almost blotting out the very few
objects ever to be discerned from the windows, was enough to make the
sound of Lady Russell's carriage exceedingly welcome; and yet, though
desirous to be gone, she could not quit the Mansion House, or look an
adieu to the Cottage, with its black, dripping and comfortless veranda,
or even notice through the misty glasses the last humble tenements of
the village, without a saddened heart. Scenes had passed in Uppercross
which made it precious. It stood the record of many sensations of
pain, once severe, but now softened; and of some instances of relenting
feeling, some breathings of friendship and reconciliation, which could
never be looked for again, and which could never cease to be dear. She
left it all behind her, all but the recollection that such things had
been.

Anne had never entered Kellynch since her quitting Lady Russell's house
in September. It had not been necessary, and the few occasions of its
being possible for her to go to the Hall she had contrived to evade and
escape from. Her first return was to resume her place in the modern
and elegant apartments of the Lodge, and to gladden the eyes of its
mistress.

There was some anxiety mixed with Lady Russell's joy in meeting her.
She knew who had been frequenting Uppercross. But happily, either Anne
was improved in plumpness and looks, or Lady Russell fancied her so;
and Anne, in receiving her compliments on the occasion, had the
amusement of connecting them with the silent admiration of her cousin,
and of hoping that she was to be blessed with a second spring of youth
and beauty.

When they came to converse, she was soon sensible of some mental
change. The subjects of which her heart had been full on leaving
Kellynch, and which she had felt slighted, and been compelled to
smother among the Musgroves, were now become but of secondary interest.
She had lately lost sight even of her father and sister and Bath.
Their concerns had been sunk under those of Uppercross; and when Lady
Russell reverted to their former hopes and fears, and spoke her
satisfaction in the house in Camden Place, which had been taken, and
her regret that Mrs Clay should still be with them, Anne would have
been ashamed to have it known how much more she was thinking of Lyme
and Louisa Musgrove, and all her acquaintance there; how much more
interesting to her was the home and the friendship of the Harvilles and
Captain Benwick, than her own father's house in Camden Place, or her
own sister's intimacy with Mrs Clay. She was actually forced to exert
herself to meet Lady Russell with anything like the appearance of equal
solicitude, on topics which had by nature the first claim on her.

There was a little awkwardness at first in their discourse on another
subject. They must speak of the accident at Lyme. Lady Russell had
not been arrived five minutes the day before, when a full account of
the whole had burst on her; but still it must be talked of, she must
make enquiries, she must regret the imprudence, lament the result, and
Captain Wentworth's name must be mentioned by both. Anne was conscious
of not doing it so well as Lady Russell. She could not speak the name,
and look straight forward to Lady Russell's eye, till she had adopted
the expedient of telling her briefly what she thought of the attachment
between him and Louisa. When this was told, his name distressed her no
longer.

Lady Russell had only to listen composedly, and wish them happy, but
internally her heart revelled in angry pleasure, in pleased contempt,
that the man who at twenty-three had seemed to understand somewhat of
the value of an Anne Elliot, should, eight years afterwards, be charmed
by a Louisa Musgrove.

The first three or four days passed most quietly, with no circumstance
to mark them excepting the receipt of a note or two from Lyme, which
found their way to Anne, she could not tell how, and brought a rather
improving account of Louisa. At the end of that period, Lady Russell's
politeness could repose no longer, and the fainter self-threatenings of
the past became in a decided tone, "I must call on Mrs Croft; I really
must call upon her soon. Anne, have you courage to go with me, and pay
a visit in that house? It will be some trial to us both. "

Anne did not shrink from it; on the contrary, she truly felt as she
said, in observing--

"I think you are very likely to suffer the most of the two; your
feelings are less reconciled to the change than mine. By remaining in
the neighbourhood, I am become inured to it. "

She could have said more on the subject; for she had in fact so high an
opinion of the Crofts, and considered her father so very fortunate in
his tenants, felt the parish to be so sure of a good example, and the
poor of the best attention and relief, that however sorry and ashamed
for the necessity of the removal, she could not but in conscience feel
that they were gone who deserved not to stay, and that Kellynch Hall
had passed into better hands than its owners'. These convictions must
unquestionably have their own pain, and severe was its kind; but they
precluded that pain which Lady Russell would suffer in entering the
house again, and returning through the well-known apartments.

In such moments Anne had no power of saying to herself, "These rooms
ought to belong only to us. Oh, how fallen in their destination! How
unworthily occupied! An ancient family to be so driven away!
Strangers filling their place! " No, except when she thought of her
mother, and remembered where she had been used to sit and preside, she
had no sigh of that description to heave.

Mrs Croft always met her with a kindness which gave her the pleasure of
fancying herself a favourite, and on the present occasion, receiving
her in that house, there was particular attention.

The sad accident at Lyme was soon the prevailing topic, and on
comparing their latest accounts of the invalid, it appeared that each
lady dated her intelligence from the same hour of yestermorn; that
Captain Wentworth had been in Kellynch yesterday (the first time since
the accident), had brought Anne the last note, which she had not been
able to trace the exact steps of; had staid a few hours and then
returned again to Lyme, and without any present intention of quitting
it any more. He had enquired after her, she found, particularly; had
expressed his hope of Miss Elliot's not being the worse for her
exertions, and had spoken of those exertions as great. This was
handsome, and gave her more pleasure than almost anything else could
have done.

As to the sad catastrophe itself, it could be canvassed only in one
style by a couple of steady, sensible women, whose judgements had to
work on ascertained events; and it was perfectly decided that it had
been the consequence of much thoughtlessness and much imprudence; that
its effects were most alarming, and that it was frightful to think, how
long Miss Musgrove's recovery might yet be doubtful, and how liable she
would still remain to suffer from the concussion hereafter! The
Admiral wound it up summarily by exclaiming--

"Ay, a very bad business indeed. A new sort of way this, for a young
fellow to be making love, by breaking his mistress's head, is not it,
Miss Elliot? This is breaking a head and giving a plaster, truly! "

Admiral Croft's manners were not quite of the tone to suit Lady
Russell, but they delighted Anne. His goodness of heart and simplicity
of character were irresistible.

"Now, this must be very bad for you," said he, suddenly rousing from a
little reverie, "to be coming and finding us here. I had not
recollected it before, I declare, but it must be very bad. But now, do
not stand upon ceremony. Get up and go over all the rooms in the house
if you like it. "

"Another time, Sir, I thank you, not now. "

"Well, whenever it suits you. You can slip in from the shrubbery at
any time; and there you will find we keep our umbrellas hanging up by
that door. A good place is not it? But," (checking himself), "you
will not think it a good place, for yours were always kept in the
butler's room. Ay, so it always is, I believe. One man's ways may be
as good as another's, but we all like our own best. And so you must
judge for yourself, whether it would be better for you to go about the
house or not. "

Anne, finding she might decline it, did so, very gratefully.

"We have made very few changes either," continued the Admiral, after
thinking a moment. "Very few. We told you about the laundry-door, at
Uppercross. That has been a very great improvement. The wonder was,
how any family upon earth could bear with the inconvenience of its
opening as it did, so long! You will tell Sir Walter what we have
done, and that Mr Shepherd thinks it the greatest improvement the house
ever had. Indeed, I must do ourselves the justice to say, that the few
alterations we have made have been all very much for the better. My
wife should have the credit of them, however. I have done very little
besides sending away some of the large looking-glasses from my
dressing-room, which was your father's. A very good man, and very much
the gentleman I am sure: but I should think, Miss Elliot," (looking
with serious reflection), "I should think he must be rather a dressy
man for his time of life. Such a number of looking-glasses! oh Lord!
there was no getting away from one's self. So I got Sophy to lend me a
hand, and we soon shifted their quarters; and now I am quite snug, with
my little shaving glass in one corner, and another great thing that I
never go near. "

Anne, amused in spite of herself, was rather distressed for an answer,
and the Admiral, fearing he might not have been civil enough, took up
the subject again, to say--

"The next time you write to your good father, Miss Elliot, pray give
him my compliments and Mrs Croft's, and say that we are settled here
quite to our liking, and have no fault at all to find with the place.
The breakfast-room chimney smokes a little, I grant you, but it is only
when the wind is due north and blows hard, which may not happen three
times a winter. And take it altogether, now that we have been into
most of the houses hereabouts and can judge, there is not one that we
like better than this. Pray say so, with my compliments. He will be
glad to hear it. "

Lady Russell and Mrs Croft were very well pleased with each other: but
the acquaintance which this visit began was fated not to proceed far at
present; for when it was returned, the Crofts announced themselves to
be going away for a few weeks, to visit their connexions in the north
of the county, and probably might not be at home again before Lady
Russell would be removing to Bath.

So ended all danger to Anne of meeting Captain Wentworth at Kellynch
Hall, or of seeing him in company with her friend. Everything was safe
enough, and she smiled over the many anxious feelings she had wasted on
the subject.



Chapter 14


Though Charles and Mary had remained at Lyme much longer after Mr and
Mrs Musgrove's going than Anne conceived they could have been at all
wanted, they were yet the first of the family to be at home again; and
as soon as possible after their return to Uppercross they drove over to
the Lodge. They had left Louisa beginning to sit up; but her head,
though clear, was exceedingly weak, and her nerves susceptible to the
highest extreme of tenderness; and though she might be pronounced to be
altogether doing very well, it was still impossible to say when she
might be able to bear the removal home; and her father and mother, who
must return in time to receive their younger children for the Christmas
holidays, had hardly a hope of being allowed to bring her with them.

They had been all in lodgings together. Mrs Musgrove had got Mrs
Harville's children away as much as she could, every possible supply
from Uppercross had been furnished, to lighten the inconvenience to the
Harvilles, while the Harvilles had been wanting them to come to dinner
every day; and in short, it seemed to have been only a struggle on each
side as to which should be most disinterested and hospitable.

Mary had had her evils; but upon the whole, as was evident by her
staying so long, she had found more to enjoy than to suffer. Charles
Hayter had been at Lyme oftener than suited her; and when they dined
with the Harvilles there had been only a maid-servant to wait, and at
first Mrs Harville had always given Mrs Musgrove precedence; but then,
she had received so very handsome an apology from her on finding out
whose daughter she was, and there had been so much going on every day,
there had been so many walks between their lodgings and the Harvilles,
and she had got books from the library, and changed them so often, that
the balance had certainly been much in favour of Lyme. She had been
taken to Charmouth too, and she had bathed, and she had gone to church,
and there were a great many more people to look at in the church at
Lyme than at Uppercross; and all this, joined to the sense of being so
very useful, had made really an agreeable fortnight.

Anne enquired after Captain Benwick. Mary's face was clouded directly.
Charles laughed.

"Oh! Captain Benwick is very well, I believe, but he is a very odd
young man. I do not know what he would be at. We asked him to come
home with us for a day or two: Charles undertook to give him some
shooting, and he seemed quite delighted, and, for my part, I thought it
was all settled; when behold! on Tuesday night, he made a very awkward
sort of excuse; 'he never shot' and he had 'been quite misunderstood,'
and he had promised this and he had promised that, and the end of it
was, I found, that he did not mean to come. I suppose he was afraid of
finding it dull; but upon my word I should have thought we were lively
enough at the Cottage for such a heart-broken man as Captain Benwick. "

Charles laughed again and said, "Now Mary, you know very well how it
really was. It was all your doing," (turning to Anne. ) "He fancied
that if he went with us, he should find you close by: he fancied
everybody to be living in Uppercross; and when he discovered that Lady
Russell lived three miles off, his heart failed him, and he had not
courage to come. That is the fact, upon my honour. Mary knows it is. "

But Mary did not give into it very graciously, whether from not
considering Captain Benwick entitled by birth and situation to be in
love with an Elliot, or from not wanting to believe Anne a greater
attraction to Uppercross than herself, must be left to be guessed.
Anne's good-will, however, was not to be lessened by what she heard.
She boldly acknowledged herself flattered, and continued her enquiries.

"Oh! he talks of you," cried Charles, "in such terms--" Mary
interrupted him. "I declare, Charles, I never heard him mention Anne
twice all the time I was there. I declare, Anne, he never talks of you
at all. "

"No," admitted Charles, "I do not know that he ever does, in a general
way; but however, it is a very clear thing that he admires you
exceedingly. His head is full of some books that he is reading upon
your recommendation, and he wants to talk to you about them; he has
found out something or other in one of them which he thinks--oh! I
cannot pretend to remember it, but it was something very fine--I
overheard him telling Henrietta all about it; and then 'Miss Elliot'
was spoken of in the highest terms! Now Mary, I declare it was so, I
heard it myself, and you were in the other room. 'Elegance, sweetness,
beauty. ' Oh! there was no end of Miss Elliot's charms. "

"And I am sure," cried Mary, warmly, "it was a very little to his
credit, if he did. Miss Harville only died last June. Such a heart is
very little worth having; is it, Lady Russell? I am sure you will
agree with me. "

"I must see Captain Benwick before I decide," said Lady Russell,
smiling.

"And that you are very likely to do very soon, I can tell you, ma'am,"
said Charles. "Though he had not nerves for coming away with us, and
setting off again afterwards to pay a formal visit here, he will make
his way over to Kellynch one day by himself, you may depend on it. I
told him the distance and the road, and I told him of the church's
being so very well worth seeing; for as he has a taste for those sort
of things, I thought that would be a good excuse, and he listened with
all his understanding and soul; and I am sure from his manner that you
will have him calling here soon. So, I give you notice, Lady Russell.
"

"Any acquaintance of Anne's will always be welcome to me," was Lady
Russell's kind answer.

"Oh! as to being Anne's acquaintance," said Mary, "I think he is rather
my acquaintance, for I have been seeing him every day this last
fortnight. "

"Well, as your joint acquaintance, then, I shall be very happy to see
Captain Benwick. "

"You will not find anything very agreeable in him, I assure you, ma'am.
He is one of the dullest young men that ever lived. He has walked with
me, sometimes, from one end of the sands to the other, without saying a
word. He is not at all a well-bred young man. I am sure you will not
like him. "

"There we differ, Mary," said Anne. "I think Lady Russell would like
him. I think she would be so much pleased with his mind, that she
would very soon see no deficiency in his manner. "

"So do I, Anne," said Charles. "I am sure Lady Russell would like him.
He is just Lady Russell's sort. Give him a book, and he will read all
day long. "

"Yes, that he will! " exclaimed Mary, tauntingly. "He will sit poring
over his book, and not know when a person speaks to him, or when one
drops one's scissors, or anything that happens. Do you think Lady
Russell would like that? "

Lady Russell could not help laughing. "Upon my word," said she, "I
should not have supposed that my opinion of any one could have admitted
of such difference of conjecture, steady and matter of fact as I may
call myself. I have really a curiosity to see the person who can give
occasion to such directly opposite notions. I wish he may be induced
to call here. And when he does, Mary, you may depend upon hearing my
opinion; but I am determined not to judge him beforehand. "

"You will not like him, I will answer for it. "

Lady Russell began talking of something else. Mary spoke with
animation of their meeting with, or rather missing, Mr Elliot so
extraordinarily.

"He is a man," said Lady Russell, "whom I have no wish to see. His
declining to be on cordial terms with the head of his family, has left
a very strong impression in his disfavour with me. "

This decision checked Mary's eagerness, and stopped her short in the
midst of the Elliot countenance.

With regard to Captain Wentworth, though Anne hazarded no enquiries,
there was voluntary communication sufficient. His spirits had been
greatly recovering lately as might be expected. As Louisa improved, he
had improved, and he was now quite a different creature from what he
had been the first week. He had not seen Louisa; and was so extremely
fearful of any ill consequence to her from an interview, that he did
not press for it at all; and, on the contrary, seemed to have a plan of
going away for a week or ten days, till her head was stronger. He had
talked of going down to Plymouth for a week, and wanted to persuade
Captain Benwick to go with him; but, as Charles maintained to the last,
Captain Benwick seemed much more disposed to ride over to Kellynch.

There can be no doubt that Lady Russell and Anne were both occasionally
thinking of Captain Benwick, from this time. Lady Russell could not
hear the door-bell without feeling that it might be his herald; nor
could Anne return from any stroll of solitary indulgence in her
father's grounds, or any visit of charity in the village, without
wondering whether she might see him or hear of him. Captain Benwick
came not, however. He was either less disposed for it than Charles had
imagined, or he was too shy; and after giving him a week's indulgence,
Lady Russell determined him to be unworthy of the interest which he had
been beginning to excite.

The Musgroves came back to receive their happy boys and girls from
school, bringing with them Mrs Harville's little children, to improve
the noise of Uppercross, and lessen that of Lyme. Henrietta remained
with Louisa; but all the rest of the family were again in their usual
quarters.

Lady Russell and Anne paid their compliments to them once, when Anne
could not but feel that Uppercross was already quite alive again.
Though neither Henrietta, nor Louisa, nor Charles Hayter, nor Captain
Wentworth were there, the room presented as strong a contrast as could
be wished to the last state she had seen it in.

Immediately surrounding Mrs Musgrove were the little Harvilles, whom
she was sedulously guarding from the tyranny of the two children from
the Cottage, expressly arrived to amuse them. On one side was a table
occupied by some chattering girls, cutting up silk and gold paper; and
on the other were tressels and trays, bending under the weight of brawn
and cold pies, where riotous boys were holding high revel; the whole
completed by a roaring Christmas fire, which seemed determined to be
heard, in spite of all the noise of the others. Charles and Mary also
came in, of course, during their visit, and Mr Musgrove made a point of
paying his respects to Lady Russell, and sat down close to her for ten
minutes, talking with a very raised voice, but from the clamour of the
children on his knees, generally in vain. It was a fine family-piece.

Anne, judging from her own temperament, would have deemed such a
domestic hurricane a bad restorative of the nerves, which Louisa's
illness must have so greatly shaken. But Mrs Musgrove, who got Anne
near her on purpose to thank her most cordially, again and again, for
all her attentions to them, concluded a short recapitulation of what
she had suffered herself by observing, with a happy glance round the
room, that after all she had gone through, nothing was so likely to do
her good as a little quiet cheerfulness at home.

Louisa was now recovering apace. Her mother could even think of her
being able to join their party at home, before her brothers and sisters
went to school again. The Harvilles had promised to come with her and
stay at Uppercross, whenever she returned. Captain Wentworth was gone,
for the present, to see his brother in Shropshire.

"I hope I shall remember, in future," said Lady Russell, as soon as
they were reseated in the carriage, "not to call at Uppercross in the
Christmas holidays. "

Everybody has their taste in noises as well as in other matters; and
sounds are quite innoxious, or most distressing, by their sort rather
than their quantity. When Lady Russell not long afterwards, was
entering Bath on a wet afternoon, and driving through the long course
of streets from the Old Bridge to Camden Place, amidst the dash of
other carriages, the heavy rumble of carts and drays, the bawling of
newspapermen, muffin-men and milkmen, and the ceaseless clink of
pattens, she made no complaint. No, these were noises which belonged
to the winter pleasures; her spirits rose under their influence; and
like Mrs Musgrove, she was feeling, though not saying, that after being
long in the country, nothing could be so good for her as a little quiet
cheerfulness.

Anne did not share these feelings. She persisted in a very determined,
though very silent disinclination for Bath; caught the first dim view
of the extensive buildings, smoking in rain, without any wish of seeing
them better; felt their progress through the streets to be, however
disagreeable, yet too rapid; for who would be glad to see her when she
arrived? And looked back, with fond regret, to the bustles of
Uppercross and the seclusion of Kellynch.

Elizabeth's last letter had communicated a piece of news of some
interest. Mr Elliot was in Bath. He had called in Camden Place; had
called a second time, a third; had been pointedly attentive. If
Elizabeth and her father did not deceive themselves, had been taking
much pains to seek the acquaintance, and proclaim the value of the
connection, as he had formerly taken pains to shew neglect. This was
very wonderful if it were true; and Lady Russell was in a state of very
agreeable curiosity and perplexity about Mr Elliot, already recanting
the sentiment she had so lately expressed to Mary, of his being "a man
whom she had no wish to see. " She had a great wish to see him. If he
really sought to reconcile himself like a dutiful branch, he must be
forgiven for having dismembered himself from the paternal tree.

Anne was not animated to an equal pitch by the circumstance, but she
felt that she would rather see Mr Elliot again than not, which was more
than she could say for many other persons in Bath.

She was put down in Camden Place; and Lady Russell then drove to her
own lodgings, in Rivers Street.



Chapter 15


Sir Walter had taken a very good house in Camden Place, a lofty
dignified situation, such as becomes a man of consequence; and both he
and Elizabeth were settled there, much to their satisfaction.

Anne entered it with a sinking heart, anticipating an imprisonment of
many months, and anxiously saying to herself, "Oh! when shall I leave
you again? " A degree of unexpected cordiality, however, in the welcome
she received, did her good. Her father and sister were glad to see
her, for the sake of shewing her the house and furniture, and met her
with kindness. Her making a fourth, when they sat down to dinner, was
noticed as an advantage.

Mrs Clay was very pleasant, and very smiling, but her courtesies and
smiles were more a matter of course. Anne had always felt that she
would pretend what was proper on her arrival, but the complaisance of
the others was unlooked for. They were evidently in excellent spirits,
and she was soon to listen to the causes. They had no inclination to
listen to her. After laying out for some compliments of being deeply
regretted in their old neighbourhood, which Anne could not pay, they
had only a few faint enquiries to make, before the talk must be all
their own. Uppercross excited no interest, Kellynch very little: it
was all Bath.

They had the pleasure of assuring her that Bath more than answered
their expectations in every respect. Their house was undoubtedly the
best in Camden Place; their drawing-rooms had many decided advantages
over all the others which they had either seen or heard of, and the
superiority was not less in the style of the fitting-up, or the taste
of the furniture. Their acquaintance was exceedingly sought after.
Everybody was wanting to visit them. They had drawn back from many
introductions, and still were perpetually having cards left by people
of whom they knew nothing.

Here were funds of enjoyment. Could Anne wonder that her father and
sister were happy? She might not wonder, but she must sigh that her
father should feel no degradation in his change, should see nothing to
regret in the duties and dignity of the resident landholder, should
find so much to be vain of in the littlenesses of a town; and she must
sigh, and smile, and wonder too, as Elizabeth threw open the
folding-doors and walked with exultation from one drawing-room to the
other, boasting of their space; at the possibility of that woman, who
had been mistress of Kellynch Hall, finding extent to be proud of
between two walls, perhaps thirty feet asunder.

But this was not all which they had to make them happy. They had Mr
Elliot too. Anne had a great deal to hear of Mr Elliot. He was not
only pardoned, they were delighted with him. He had been in Bath about
a fortnight; (he had passed through Bath in November, in his way to
London, when the intelligence of Sir Walter's being settled there had
of course reached him, though only twenty-four hours in the place, but
he had not been able to avail himself of it;) but he had now been a
fortnight in Bath, and his first object on arriving, had been to leave
his card in Camden Place, following it up by such assiduous endeavours
to meet, and when they did meet, by such great openness of conduct,
such readiness to apologize for the past, such solicitude to be
received as a relation again, that their former good understanding was
completely re-established.

They had not a fault to find in him. He had explained away all the
appearance of neglect on his own side. It had originated in
misapprehension entirely. He had never had an idea of throwing himself
off; he had feared that he was thrown off, but knew not why, and
delicacy had kept him silent. Upon the hint of having spoken
disrespectfully or carelessly of the family and the family honours, he
was quite indignant. He, who had ever boasted of being an Elliot, and
whose feelings, as to connection, were only too strict to suit the
unfeudal tone of the present day. He was astonished, indeed, but his
character and general conduct must refute it. He could refer Sir
Walter to all who knew him; and certainly, the pains he had been taking
on this, the first opportunity of reconciliation, to be restored to the
footing of a relation and heir-presumptive, was a strong proof of his
opinions on the subject.

The circumstances of his marriage, too, were found to admit of much
extenuation. This was an article not to be entered on by himself; but
a very intimate friend of his, a Colonel Wallis, a highly respectable
man, perfectly the gentleman, (and not an ill-looking man, Sir Walter
added), who was living in very good style in Marlborough Buildings, and
had, at his own particular request, been admitted to their acquaintance
through Mr Elliot, had mentioned one or two things relative to the
marriage, which made a material difference in the discredit of it.

Colonel Wallis had known Mr Elliot long, had been well acquainted also
with his wife, had perfectly understood the whole story. She was
certainly not a woman of family, but well educated, accomplished, rich,
and excessively in love with his friend. There had been the charm.
She had sought him. Without that attraction, not all her money would
have tempted Elliot, and Sir Walter was, moreover, assured of her
having been a very fine woman. Here was a great deal to soften the
business. A very fine woman with a large fortune, in love with him!
Sir Walter seemed to admit it as complete apology; and though Elizabeth
could not see the circumstance in quite so favourable a light, she
allowed it be a great extenuation.

Mr Elliot had called repeatedly, had dined with them once, evidently
delighted by the distinction of being asked, for they gave no dinners
in general; delighted, in short, by every proof of cousinly notice, and
placing his whole happiness in being on intimate terms in Camden Place.

Anne listened, but without quite understanding it. Allowances, large
allowances, she knew, must be made for the ideas of those who spoke.
She heard it all under embellishment. All that sounded extravagant or
irrational in the progress of the reconciliation might have no origin
but in the language of the relators. Still, however, she had the
sensation of there being something more than immediately appeared, in
Mr Elliot's wishing, after an interval of so many years, to be well
received by them. In a worldly view, he had nothing to gain by being
on terms with Sir Walter; nothing to risk by a state of variance. In
all probability he was already the richer of the two, and the Kellynch
estate would as surely be his hereafter as the title. A sensible man,
and he had looked like a very sensible man, why should it be an object
to him? She could only offer one solution; it was, perhaps, for
Elizabeth's sake. There might really have been a liking formerly,
though convenience and accident had drawn him a different way; and now
that he could afford to please himself, he might mean to pay his
addresses to her. Elizabeth was certainly very handsome, with
well-bred, elegant manners, and her character might never have been
penetrated by Mr Elliot, knowing her but in public, and when very young
himself. How her temper and understanding might bear the investigation
of his present keener time of life was another concern and rather a
fearful one. Most earnestly did she wish that he might not be too
nice, or too observant if Elizabeth were his object; and that Elizabeth
was disposed to believe herself so, and that her friend Mrs Clay was
encouraging the idea, seemed apparent by a glance or two between them,
while Mr Elliot's frequent visits were talked of.

Anne mentioned the glimpses she had had of him at Lyme, but without
being much attended to. "Oh! yes, perhaps, it had been Mr Elliot.
They did not know. It might be him, perhaps. " They could not listen
to her description of him. They were describing him themselves; Sir
Walter especially. He did justice to his very gentlemanlike
appearance, his air of elegance and fashion, his good shaped face, his
sensible eye; but, at the same time, "must lament his being very much
under-hung, a defect which time seemed to have increased; nor could he
pretend to say that ten years had not altered almost every feature for
the worse. Mr Elliot appeared to think that he (Sir Walter) was
looking exactly as he had done when they last parted;" but Sir Walter
had "not been able to return the compliment entirely, which had
embarrassed him. He did not mean to complain, however. Mr Elliot was
better to look at than most men, and he had no objection to being seen
with him anywhere. "

Mr Elliot, and his friends in Marlborough Buildings, were talked of the
whole evening. "Colonel Wallis had been so impatient to be introduced
to them! and Mr Elliot so anxious that he should! " and there was a Mrs
Wallis, at present known only to them by description, as she was in
daily expectation of her confinement; but Mr Elliot spoke of her as "a
most charming woman, quite worthy of being known in Camden Place," and
as soon as she recovered they were to be acquainted. Sir Walter
thought much of Mrs Wallis; she was said to be an excessively pretty
woman, beautiful. "He longed to see her. He hoped she might make some
amends for the many very plain faces he was continually passing in the
streets. The worst of Bath was the number of its plain women. He did
not mean to say that there were no pretty women, but the number of the
plain was out of all proportion. He had frequently observed, as he
walked, that one handsome face would be followed by thirty, or
five-and-thirty frights; and once, as he had stood in a shop on Bond
Street, he had counted eighty-seven women go by, one after another,
without there being a tolerable face among them. It had been a frosty
morning, to be sure, a sharp frost, which hardly one woman in a
thousand could stand the test of. But still, there certainly were a
dreadful multitude of ugly women in Bath; and as for the men! they
were infinitely worse. Such scarecrows as the streets were full of!
It was evident how little the women were used to the sight of anything
tolerable, by the effect which a man of decent appearance produced. He
had never walked anywhere arm-in-arm with Colonel Wallis (who was a
fine military figure, though sandy-haired) without observing that every
woman's eye was upon him; every woman's eye was sure to be upon Colonel
Wallis. " Modest Sir Walter! 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.