prompt:
Chapter: 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.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Charles and Mary return to Uppercross as Christmas approaches, leaving Louisa improved in health but still not completely recovered. In Lyme, the elder Musgroves and the Harvilles have been holding an informal competition as to who can be kinder and more generous, and even Mary has been enjoying herself. Anne asks Charles how her old partner-in-poetry Captain Benwick has been doing, and Charles says that he had accepted an invitation to Uppercross, but then for some reason changed his mind . Charles and Mary argue as to whether Benwick is particularly interested in Anne, or just likes her taste in books . Lady Russell reserves judgment in the Benwick matter until actually meeting the man. Mary brings up running into Mr. William Elliot, but Lady Russell, still hung up on the old drama of his rejection of the current Sir, shuts her down. Anne learns that Captain Wentworth has been steering clear of Louisa, afraid that the excitement of seeing him would further damage her bruised brain. Anne and Lady Russell expect Captain Benwick to turn up any day now, but he never does. Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove return to Uppercross, bringing the Harville kids back with them; their own younger children also come home from school for the holidays, so there's a full house at Uppercross. Lady Russell isn't too fond of the current kindergarten atmosphere of Uppercross, but the more motherly Mrs. Musgrove thinks of it as "quiet cheerfulness" . Lady Russell's own idea of quiet cheerfulness, the narrator notes, is the hustle and bustle of the Bath streets: to each her own. Anne, however, is not eager to leave the countryside for a city life in Bath, even though her sister's last letter reported that the interesting Mr. Elliot has been mending bridges with her and Sir Walter. The possibility of meeting up with Mr. Elliot is still the one not-completely-dark spot for her, however, as Anne finally arrives at her family's lodgings in Camden Place.


prompt:
Chapter: 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.

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!

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Anne enters Camden Place feeling like she's going to prison, but her family are highly pleased with themselves and their situation in Bath, which makes them more pleasant to her than usual. Mrs. Clay also puts out the welcome mat, but Anne knows that the woman couldn't care less about her. Sir Walter and Elizabeth hold forth on their popularity and superiority in Bath society, though Anne thinks they feel like big fish only because the pond is so small. They also report on Mr. Elliot and how he switched from He Who Must Not Be Named to That Guy We Talk About Constantly; he's explained away his previous bad behavior as due to misunderstanding, and has been entirely forgiven. Anne tries to pick out the truth from her family's reporting, which she knows is biased, but remains uncertain as to the reasons behind Mr. Elliot's change in behavior. Sir Walter discusses the levels of attractiveness displayed by Mr. Elliot and his acquaintances the Wallises, and allows that they're pretty enough to hang out with him, but holds that most of the Bath population is not up to Sir Walter's standards of prettiness. Sir Walter asks Anne about Mary and how her prettiness is doing, and says that he would send her a new hat and pelisse if he didn't think she would go outside in it and ruin her skin. Mr. Elliot comes for a visit, and Sir Walter introduces him to "his youngest daughter" Anne . Anne recognizes him as the stranger she met in Lyme, and sees that he had no idea who she was. Mr. Elliot is pleased to discover her identity, and behaves so politely that she thinks there is "only one person" she could compare him to - hmm, wonder who that "one person" could be... Mr. Elliot impresses Anne with how sensible he is, though of course the other people in the room set a low standard. They talk of Lyme, and Anne tells him of Louisa's accident; Mr. Elliot reminds Anne of Lady Russell in his genuine concern. The clock strikes eleven, and the party breaks up, with Anne feeling that the evening was much less of a drag than she was expecting.


prompt:
Chapter: 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.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Anne's still concerned that she's going to get Mrs. Clay as a wicked stepmother. Mrs. Clay offers to leave, but both the elder Elliots insist that she stay. It doesn't help Anne's worries that, when her father is trying to give her beauty advice, he holds up Mrs. Clay as an example of what his favorite face cream can do. Anne feels powerless, and thinks that she would feel better about Mrs. Clay becoming Mrs. Walter Elliot if Elizabeth became Mrs. William Elliot. Her own backup plan is to move in with Lady Russell. Lady Russell is rather cranky that Anne is getting ignored while Mrs. Clay gets all the attention; despite her crankiness, though, she still enjoys being a Bath scenester. As Lady Russell gets to know Mr. Elliot, she likes him more and more, and is pleased with his sense of moderation and family pride. Anne, however, thinks that Mr. Elliot has more than family pride on his mind, and suspects him of being after Elizabeth, but Lady Russell doesn't see things that way. In any case, Anne knows that the first Mrs. William Elliot has been in the ground for only seven months, and so he might not be too eager to enlist a second wife, even if the first one was unsatisfactory. Until that becomes clear, Anne simply enjoys their friendship, as Mr. Elliot is by far the person in her limited social circle she most enjoys hanging out with, even though he cares more about rank than she does. This difference becomes especially clear when a cousin to the Elliots, known unfortunately as the Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple, and her daughter arrive in Bath. The Dalrymples are higher up on the social ladder than the Elliots, so Sir Walter is anxious to get some of their reflected glory. The backstory fairy explains the difficulty: Sir Walter was ill when Lady Dalrymple's husband died, and so didn't send a letter of condolence; the Dalrymples struck back by similarly ignoring Lady Elliot's death, and the two families have been giving each other the silent treatment ever since. Knowing this, Sir Walter writes an elaborate letter to smooth things over, which has the desired effect. Soon Sir Walter and Elizabeth are name-dropping their illustrious cousins at any chance they get. Anne feels ashamed that her family has gone to such efforts to get in with people she finds boring and stupid, but Lady Russell and Mr. Elliot hold that rank brings along a whole bunch of other privileges that are worth pursuing. Anne tells Mr. Elliot that her pride makes her want to make friends based on who she is rather than who her family is; Mr. Elliot replies that he, too, is proud, and that having Sir Walter set his eyes on those above him will keep his attention away from those below him - especially, Mr. Elliot hints, Mrs. Clay. Anne can't argue with that, and likes Mr. Elliot all the more for his sharing her dislike of Mrs. Clay.


prompt:
Chapter: 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.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Anne finds out that Mrs. Smith, who had taken Anne under her wing at school when she was lonely and homesick, is staying in Bath. Mrs. Smith has had some bad luck - her husband had been foolish with money before he died, leaving her poor, and an illness has made her disabled. Anne, not telling her snobbish family but with the support of Lady Russell, goes to visit Mrs. Smith at her lodgings in Westgate Buildings. Anne is impressed that, despite all Mrs. Smith's misfortune, she still manages to stay cheerful and upbeat. Mrs. Smith says she has the help of her reliable landlady and her nurse, the landlady's sister, who has helped Mrs. Smith in both giving to the poor and selling to the rich. Nurse Rooke also brings Mrs. Smith all the latest gossip that she hears when her nursing job takes her into rich families. Anne says that the sick chamber must produce lots of good stories of human heroism, and Mrs. Smith replies that the tales are more often of the bad side of human nature than the good. Nurse Rooke's current patient, however, is too boring to furnish even bad gossip - she is Mrs. Wallis, who turned up previously as a friend of the Elliots in Bath. Anne manages to visit Mrs. Smith several times on the DL before her family finds out. Anne's recent activity comes to light when she refuses a last-minute invitation from Lady Dalrymple because she already has a date to go over to Mrs. Smith's. Sir Walter makes fun of Anne for choosing to go see a poor old sick woman rather than the high-class Dalrymples, trying to shame her into doing what he wants, but she doesn't give in. In the process Sir Walter also mocks Mrs. Smith's common name, which makes Mrs. Clay rather uneasy, as Anne notices. Later, Lady Russell tells Anne all about the party she missed, and makes sure to repeat all the good things Mr. Elliot said about Anne. Lady Russell is convinced that Mr. Elliot has a thing for Anne, and highly approves of a marriage that would put Anne in her mother's place as lady of Kellynch Hall. While Anne is entranced by the idea of being Lady Elliot, not for the title but for being able to keep her home, but doesn't entirely trust Mr. Elliot - the surface of his character seems nice enough, but Anne suspects that it might just be an act, as he seems a little too perfect. Lady Russell has no such suspicions, however, and holds firm to her dream of marrying Anne off to Mr. Elliot in a year or so, once he no longer has to wear black for his first wife.


prompt:
Chapter: 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.  It had been in situation.  They had
been thrown together several weeks; they had been living in the same
small family party:  since Henrietta's coming away, they must have been
depending almost entirely on each other, and Louisa, just recovering
from illness, had been in an interesting state, and Captain Benwick was
not inconsolable.  That was a point which Anne had not been able to
avoid suspecting before; and instead of drawing the same conclusion as
Mary, from the present course of events, they served only to confirm
the idea of his having felt some dawning of tenderness toward herself.
She did not mean, however, to derive much more from it to gratify her
vanity, than Mary might have allowed.  She was persuaded that any
tolerably pleasing young woman who had listened and seemed to feel for
him would have received the same compliment.  He had an affectionate
heart.  He must love somebody.

She saw no reason against their being happy.  Louisa had fine naval
fervour to begin with, and they would soon grow more alike.  He would
gain cheerfulness, and she would learn to be an enthusiast for Scott
and Lord Byron; nay, that was probably learnt already; of course they
had fallen in love over poetry.  The idea of Louisa Musgrove turned
into a person of literary taste, and sentimental reflection was
amusing, but she had no doubt of its being so.  The day at Lyme, the
fall from the Cobb, might influence her health, her nerves, her
courage, her character to the end of her life, as thoroughly as it
appeared to have influenced her fate.

The conclusion of the whole was, that if the woman who had been
sensible of Captain Wentworth's merits could be allowed to prefer
another man, there was nothing in the engagement to excite lasting
wonder; and if Captain Wentworth lost no friend by it, certainly
nothing to be regretted.  No, it was not regret which made Anne's heart
beat in spite of herself, and brought the colour into her cheeks when
she thought of Captain Wentworth unshackled and free.  She had some
feelings which she was ashamed to investigate.  They were too much like
joy, senseless joy!

She longed to see the Crofts; but when the meeting took place, it was
evident that no rumour of the news had yet reached them.  The visit of
ceremony was paid and returned; and Louisa Musgrove was mentioned, and
Captain Benwick, too, without even half a smile.

The Crofts had placed themselves in lodgings in Gay Street, perfectly
to Sir Walter's satisfaction.  He was not at all ashamed of the
acquaintance, and did, in fact, think and talk a great deal more about
the Admiral, than the Admiral ever thought or talked about him.

The Crofts knew quite as many people in Bath as they wished for, and
considered their intercourse with the Elliots as a mere matter of form,
and not in the least likely to afford them any pleasure.  They brought
with them their country habit of being almost always together.  He was
ordered to walk to keep off the gout, and Mrs Croft seemed to go shares
with him in everything, and to walk for her life to do him good.  Anne
saw them wherever she went.  Lady Russell took her out in her carriage
almost every morning, and she never failed to think of them, and never
failed to see them.  Knowing their feelings as she did, it was a most
attractive picture of happiness to her.  She always watched them as
long as she could, delighted to fancy she understood what they might be
talking of, as they walked along in happy independence, or equally
delighted to see the Admiral's hearty shake of the hand when he
encountered an old friend, and observe their eagerness of conversation
when occasionally forming into a little knot of the navy, Mrs Croft
looking as intelligent and keen as any of the officers around her.

Anne was too much engaged with Lady Russell to be often walking
herself; but it so happened that one morning, about a week or ten days
after the Croft's arrival, it suited her best to leave her friend, or
her friend's carriage, in the lower part of the town, and return alone
to Camden Place, and in walking up Milsom Street she had the good
fortune to meet with the Admiral.  He was standing by himself at a
printshop window, with his hands behind him, in earnest contemplation
of some print, and she not only might have passed him unseen, but was
obliged to touch as well as address him before she could catch his
notice.  When he did perceive and acknowledge her, however, it was done
with all his usual frankness and good humour.  "Ha! is it you?  Thank
you, thank you.  This is treating me like a friend.  Here I am, you
see, staring at a picture.  I can never get by this shop without
stopping.  But what a thing here is, by way of a boat!  Do look at it.
Did you ever see the like?  What queer fellows your fine painters must
be, to think that anybody would venture their lives in such a shapeless
old cockleshell as that?  And yet here are two gentlemen stuck up in it
mightily at their ease, and looking about them at the rocks and
mountains, as if they were not to be upset the next moment, which they
certainly must be.  I wonder where that boat was built!" (laughing
heartily); "I would not venture over a horsepond in it.  Well,"
(turning away), "now, where are you bound?  Can I go anywhere for you,
or with you?  Can I be of any use?"

"None, I thank you, unless you will give me the pleasure of your
company the little way our road lies together.  I am going home."

"That I will, with all my heart, and farther, too.  Yes, yes we will
have a snug walk together, and I have something to tell you as we go
along.  There, take my arm; that's right; I do not feel comfortable if
I have not a woman there.  Lord! what a boat it is!" taking a last look
at the picture, as they began to be in motion.

"Did you say that you had something to tell me, sir?"

"Yes, I have, presently.  But here comes a friend, Captain Brigden; I
shall only say, 'How d'ye do?' as we pass, however.  I shall not stop.
'How d'ye do?'  Brigden stares to see anybody with me but my wife.
She, poor soul, is tied by the leg.  She has a blister on one of her
heels, as large as a three-shilling piece.  If you look across the
street, you will see Admiral Brand coming down and his brother.  Shabby
fellows, both of them!  I am glad they are not on this side of the way.
Sophy cannot bear them.  They played me a pitiful trick once: got away
with some of my best men.  I will tell you the whole story another
time.  There comes old Sir Archibald Drew and his grandson.  Look, he
sees us; he kisses his hand to you; he takes you for my wife.  Ah! the
peace has come too soon for that younker.  Poor old Sir Archibald!  How
do you like Bath, Miss Elliot?  It suits us very well.  We are always
meeting with some old friend or other; the streets full of them every
morning; sure to have plenty of chat; and then we get away from them
all, and shut ourselves in our lodgings, and draw in our chairs, and
are as snug as if we were at Kellynch, ay, or as we used to be even at
North Yarmouth and Deal.  We do not like our lodgings here the worse, I
can tell you, for putting us in mind of those we first had at North
Yarmouth.  The wind blows through one of the cupboards just in the same
way."

When they were got a little farther, Anne ventured to press again for
what he had to communicate.  She hoped when clear of Milsom Street to
have her curiosity gratified; but she was still obliged to wait, for
the Admiral had made up his mind not to begin till they had gained the
greater space and quiet of Belmont; and as she was not really Mrs
Croft, she must let him have his own way.  As soon as they were fairly
ascending Belmont, he began--

"Well, now you shall hear something that will surprise you.  But first
of all, you must tell me the name of the young lady I am going to talk
about.  That young lady, you know, that we have all been so concerned
for.  The Miss Musgrove, that all this has been happening to.  Her
Christian name:  I always forget her Christian name."

Anne had been ashamed to appear to comprehend so soon as she really
did; but now she could safely suggest the name of "Louisa."

"Ay, ay, Miss Louisa Musgrove, that is the name.  I wish young ladies
had not such a number of fine Christian names.  I should never be out
if they were all Sophys, or something of that sort.  Well, this Miss
Louisa, we all thought, you know, was to marry Frederick.  He was
courting her week after week.  The only wonder was, what they could be
waiting for, till the business at Lyme came; then, indeed, it was clear
enough that they must wait till her brain was set to right.  But even
then there was something odd in their way of going on.  Instead of
staying at Lyme, he went off to Plymouth, and then he went off to see
Edward.  When we came back from Minehead he was gone down to Edward's,
and there he has been ever since.  We have seen nothing of him since
November.  Even Sophy could not understand it.  But now, the matter has
taken the strangest turn of all; for this young lady, the same Miss
Musgrove, instead of being to marry Frederick, is to marry James
Benwick.  You know James Benwick."

"A little.  I am a little acquainted with Captain Benwick."

"Well, she is to marry him.  Nay, most likely they are married already,
for I do not know what they should wait for."

"I thought Captain Benwick a very pleasing young man," said Anne, "and
I understand that he bears an excellent character."

"Oh! yes, yes, there is not a word to be said against James Benwick.
He is only a commander, it is true, made last summer, and these are bad
times for getting on, but he has not another fault that I know of.  An
excellent, good-hearted fellow, I assure you; a very active, zealous
officer too, which is more than you would think for, perhaps, for that
soft sort of manner does not do him justice."

"Indeed you are mistaken there, sir; I should never augur want of
spirit from Captain Benwick's manners.  I thought them particularly
pleasing, and I will answer for it, they would generally please."

"Well, well, ladies are the best judges; but James Benwick is rather
too piano for me; and though very likely it is all our partiality,
Sophy and I cannot help thinking Frederick's manners better than his.
There is something about Frederick more to our taste."

Anne was caught.  She had only meant to oppose the too common idea of
spirit and gentleness being incompatible with each other, not at all to
represent Captain Benwick's manners as the very best that could
possibly be; and, after a little hesitation, she was beginning to say,
"I was not entering into any comparison of the two friends," but the
Admiral interrupted her with--

"And the thing is certainly true.  It is not a mere bit of gossip.  We
have it from Frederick himself.  His sister had a letter from him
yesterday, in which he tells us of it, and he had just had it in a
letter from Harville, written upon the spot, from Uppercross.  I fancy
they are all at Uppercross."

This was an opportunity which Anne could not resist; she said,
therefore, "I hope, Admiral, I hope there is nothing in the style of
Captain Wentworth's letter to make you and Mrs Croft particularly
uneasy.  It did seem, last autumn, as if there were an attachment
between him and Louisa Musgrove; but I hope it may be understood to
have worn out on each side equally, and without violence.  I hope his
letter does not breathe the spirit of an ill-used man."

"Not at all, not at all; there is not an oath or a murmur from
beginning to end."

Anne looked down to hide her smile.

"No, no; Frederick is not a man to whine and complain; he has too much
spirit for that.  If the girl likes another man better, it is very fit
she should have him."

"Certainly.  But what I mean is, that I hope there is nothing in
Captain Wentworth's manner of writing to make you suppose he thinks
himself ill-used by his friend, which might appear, you know, without
its being absolutely said.  I should be very sorry that such a
friendship as has subsisted between him and Captain Benwick should be
destroyed, or even wounded, by a circumstance of this sort."

"Yes, yes, I understand you.  But there is nothing at all of that
nature in the letter.  He does not give the least fling at Benwick;
does not so much as say, 'I wonder at it, I have a reason of my own for
wondering at it.'  No, you would not guess, from his way of writing,
that he had ever thought of this Miss (what's her name?) for himself.
He very handsomely hopes they will be happy together; and there is
nothing very unforgiving in that, I think."

Anne did not receive the perfect conviction which the Admiral meant to
convey, but it would have been useless to press the enquiry farther.
She therefore satisfied herself with common-place remarks or quiet
attention, and the Admiral had it all his own way.

"Poor Frederick!" said he at last.  "Now he must begin all over again
with somebody else.  I think we must get him to Bath.  Sophy must
write, and beg him to come to Bath.  Here are pretty girls enough, I am
sure.  It would be of no use to go to Uppercross again, for that other
Miss Musgrove, I find, is bespoke by her cousin, the young parson.  Do
not you think, Miss Elliot, we had better try to get him to Bath?"

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Remember that other storyline, the one with the Musgroves? Anne does too, and wonders what's going on with that. Fortunately she gets a thick letter from Mary, and, even better, the letter was brought to Bath by the Crofts, whom Anne looks forward to seeing again. Sir Walter makes inane background noise making sure that no one forgets that Admiral Croft is his tenant and that therefore he is, like, totally better than the Admiral, and prettier too, while Anne reads her letter. Mary is cranky about many things: everything is boring, the Musgroves aren't having any parties, the Harville children are still at Uppercross, the weather sucks, all the fun stuff happens when she's not around, when will Mrs. Clay get out of the Elliots' guest bedroom, not that they would ask her to stay with them anyway, why does everyone else get to go to Bath while she has to stay in boring old Uppercross?, there's a sore throat going around which she'll probably get, etc. And that was just the first half of the letter. The second half, however, has the juicy gossip. Louisa has returned to Uppercross, but not alone: Captain Benwick is with her, to ask her father for permission for the couple to get married. Anne is astonished at the news. Her family asks about the letter without really waiting for her answers, and then turn to the matter of more concern to them, whether they should introduce the Crofts to Lady Dalrymple. Anne finally gets away to her own room to think over the letter. She wonders what Captain Wentworth thinks of the situation, and hopes that Louisa's change of heart hasn't destroyed the friendship between him and Benwick. Anne is also curious how lively Louisa and mopey Benwick got involved with each other in the first place, and concludes that the head injury must have awakened Louisa's inner emotional side and a taste for poetry. What really gets Anne's heart rattling, though, is the thought of Captain Wentworth's being available again. Anne meets up with the Crofts, but they seem out of the loop on the latest Louisa/Benwick gossip. The Crofts are in town for the Admiral's health, and are always out walking. For Anne, who often sees them when she is out riding with Lady Russell, they appear as exhibit A of what a happy couple looks like. Once when Anne is walking home she runs into Admiral Croft, who's looking at a picture of a boat in the shop window and criticizing the fact that it resembles a real boat as much as a Photoshopped cover model resembles the real person. The Admiral, unaware that he's been scooped, tells Anne that Louisa and Captain Benwick are engaged. Of more interest to Anne is his information on Captain Wentworth's response to the situation; according to the Admiral, Wentworth is far from heartbroken at the way things played out, and in fact seems like he couldn't care less. The Admiral says that he must get Captain Wentworth to come to Bath and check out the pretty girls there to see if any of them would do as a wife.